Sans Aus x Reader Oneshots (Infrequent Updates)

ᵂᵉ'ˡˡ ᵐᵉᵉᵗ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ ⁻ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ

ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐʸ ⁱᵐᵃᵍᵉ

. . .

The sun illuminates my page even in its waning light. The library is going to close in a little while, but I don't mind. I'll be right back here tomorrow anyway. The smell of old and new books flood my senses. The whisper of an elderly lady muttering to herself about what book she should pick for her grandson. I flip to the next page of my own book.

"Ah. Pride and Prejudice. A wonderful piece of literature, indeed." The voice is unexpected, but I've learned to expect the unexpected. I don't falter. "It is a great book. I presume that you have read it?" I respond to the voice without prying my eyes from the page. The voice doesn't answer for a little while, and I assume that the person has left. However, I know that it is not so when I hear someone sit in the chair next to mine. I smile ever so slightly. 

"'It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.'" 

Just as I am about to turn to the next page, I pause. My eyes flicker up to get a peak at this stranger, but with only a brief moment's glance, I can only notice the outstanding yellow of the sweater he is wearing. I regain my composure and recite back a more ambiguous reference to the novel. "You're remembrance is commendable, but not handsome enough to tempt me."

I receive a chuckle out of the stranger. It's a light and carefree sound. I can't help myself from smiling at it. "You're conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow." He returns my challenge, and the manner by which he went about it brings color to my cheeks.

My hand finds the bookmark and places it to save my page before closing the book. For the first time, I look up and get a perfect view of my companion. He, as I have just discovered, is not human. Quite the opposite in fact. He's a skeleton who had previously been housed underground. My lips part slightly in surprise, but I close them quickly so that I don't appear rude. He shares a friendly smile with me. "You may act surprised if you wish. It's not everyday that you meet a skeleton."

I avert my eyes as I recall what happened to the monsters all those years ago. He seems to notice my distress and addresses it. "Hey, hey. No need to feel sad. The past is in the past." I look up at him, and he continues. "You, and all of the other humans here right now, are not the ones responsible for what happened." His words provide some comfort to me. "Anyway," I offer as a change of subject. "You seem quite familiar with this piece of literature. What other classics have you read?" I lift the book out of my lap in reference.

He shakes his head at me with a bashful look on his face. "I'm not incredibly well versed in human literature just yet." It's now his turn to avert his . . . eyelights, I suppose. He continues. "The only reason that I can recite from that particular piece is because it's my brother's favorite." I nod in acknowledgement, considering his words carefully. I relax my posture slightly and speculate. "You must care about him a lot. I barely talk with my brother, let alone know his favorite book from cover to cover." He goes silent for a little bit, and I worry that I have said something wrong. However, he quickly shakes himself out of the state that he seems to be in.

"My brother and I haven't spoken properly in years. That was his favorite book from when we were kids. I doubt that it's his favorite anymore. . ." I open my mouth to respond, but my better judgement decides to leave the subject be. Instead, I offer a kind smile. This appears to be the correct move for he smiles right back at me. 

We talk for hours after that. We avoid uncomfortable topics and just chat the remains of the day away. I finally found out that his name is Dream, and he shares so many other interesting things about himself. I learn that one of his favorite books is Murder on the Orient Express. I honestly took him for a hopeless romantic, but he says that he enjoys books that make him think are more his style. He likes piecing together information to figure out "who done it". I also found out that he loves the ocean. When he first saw it, he was left in awe at its vastness and mystery. He asked me questions about myself as well. His questions were very basic, and I found it both odd and adorable.

"If you could only choose one, what drink would you choose?" I laugh a bit at the simplicity of it and answer honestly. He isn't surprised when I give him my choice of drink. He smiles as if he expected it. The next question he asked made me think a bit more about my answer. He leans back slightly in his seat as if he himself is contemplating the question. "Do you judge a book by its cover?"

I'm taken aback by it. I wasn't expecting a question like that after something so simple. I take a few seconds in my head before replying. "That's a difficult question. Are we talking about a literal book or a metaphorical book?" I raise an eyebrow, and my smile shifts into a smirk. Respond to a question with your own question. He quickly gives me a response, however, putting the weight back on me. "A metaphorical book."

I fold my hands in my lap and adjust the position that I've been sitting in for hours. I spend some time in my own head, completely aware of the fact that the library will be closing in fifteen minutes. "How about this, Dream." He hums in response, showing his attentiveness. I continue.

"I don't 'judge' people, or books if we are speaking metaphorically, by their covers. Rather, I may use ones' appearance to make guesses as to what they may be like. I would still make an effort to get to know them first, depending on the situation. Some people look crappy, excuse my language, but they are genuinely sweet people. Other people look as sweet as pie and have the personality of burnt trash. The last situation would be that people may be as terrible as they look or as sweet as they look. Personality is key, but appearance is a factor."

I take a deep breath as I finish my well thought out response. Dream claps his hands together in approval, clearly satisfied with my response. I nod in his direction while I catch my breath. At this moment, he decides to stand up. I follow suite and pick up my book which I had long since placed on the side table. "That was a lovely response, Y/n. Quite lovely indeed." He says sincerely.

We make our way to the exit of the library in a comfortable silence. I check out Pride and Prejudice at the front desk, and Dream escorts me out of the building. We stop right out side the entrance, unsure of what to do. I fidget with the book. "I should. . ." He nods, shuffling his feet. "Me as well. . ." Neither of us moves.

After a few seconds of this stalemate, he takes a step away from me. "I. . . should get going. My friends are probably freaking out," He elaborates when I give him a quizzical look. "I was supposed to meet with them two hours ago." I let out a short laugh. 

I make a step away from him as well, pointing behind me. "My friends are going out for dinner, and they invited me to go with them." Dream nods at me in understanding. I turn away from him and begin to walk away. As I walk, I can hear his footsteps behind me. They start to fade into the distance, and I whirl around. 

I jog a bit to get in ear shot of him and shout. "Will I see you again?" My voice sounds more desperate than I wanted it to. Dream turns around with a sweet smile. He raises a hand up and calls back to me.

"Definitely!"

. . .

I'm glad to be writing again. It was hard to get back into it, honestly. I hope this is as good as my other stories were. 

Have a nice day/night!

ᶜʰᵃʳˡᵒᵗᵗᵉ