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Cozying up by a fire while you watch snow fall out the window sounds relaxing and idyllic. Unfortunately for you, the one who was cozying up to you was your mentally unstable, skeletal kidnapper. It was… less than ideal.

You'd done your best to pointedly snuggle Papyrus instead of Sans but he'd retaliated by pulling you by the waist until your body was flush with his before flopping on his side. Now you're being spooned by your kidnapper. Wonderful. Struggling and squirming only resulted in a more firm grip around your middle and a bony leg to be twined with yours. Eventually you ragdolled and submitted to your fate. At least you were warm now!

But still, sleeping on a mat on the dusty, wooden floor was not doing you any favors. You could already feel the ache of laying on an unforgiving surface building in your body. Deciding to push your luck, you speak up, "Hey so… it's really uncomfortable on the floor. Is there like a blanket or something I can use as extra padding?"

In lieu of answering you, Sans simply rolls the two of you over until you're perched on his illogically soft belly. You still don't understand how a skeleton is so nice to lay on. Must be magic. Grumbling but resigned to your fate, you make yourself as comfortable as possible on your new skeleton-mattress. As you nuzzle sleepily into his chest, you notice a soft rumbling emitting from the skeleton. You press your ear to his ribcage, trying to place the sound. No way… you don't want to believe it but it's undeniable that the vibrations you're hearing sound uncannily like a cat's purr dropped down a few octaves. Fuck. That's actually kind of endearing… and really weird too. Who knew skeletons could purr?

In your warm, comfortable, half-asleep state you find the words slipping out before you can stop them, "Are you fucking purring?"

Like an engine's sputtering, the purring pauses before coming back stronger than before. Okay then. Guess that's as much of an answer as you'll get for now. The sound, although a bit strange, is very relaxing. So relaxing, in fact, it's not long before you find yourself slipping into a deep slumber…

💀💀💀

Yessss…

You felt so nice, curled up on top of him, snuggling into his chest. He couldn't stop the purr that rumbled from deep in his bones. Once your breathing had evened out into the soft rhythm of sleep he indulged himself further by gently running his phalanges through your hair and down your back. There was nothing more soothing than petting your soft skin. His little human. Back in his arms, safe.

💀💀💀

You awoke the next morning to pale light hitting your face. You squinted at an impossibly tall figure silhouetted by the light, trying to place them. As your eyes adjusted, so too did your mind. It was Papyrus. Your kidnapper's brother. He'd apparently thrown the ratty, old curtains open to let in the morning sun. You were plenty comfortable though, and buried your head back into your pillow. Your… warm, moving pillow.

With a flash you remembered your sleeping arrangements and quickly scrambled to get out of the skeleton's hold. In a repeat of yesterday's struggle, you were utterly unable to break the death grip Sans had around your waist. It wasn't hurting you in any way, but it was certainly preventing you from moving.

Not wanting to suffer through the same humiliation as before, you decide that annoying your captor into letting you go is the route to take. You start poking his boney cheeks (cheekbones?) relentlessly. In his sleep he grumbles and turns his head, trying to avoid your onslaught. You persist with your attack, increasing the pokes per second. One skeletal arm releases you and reaches up to sleepily fend off your fingers and you take the opportunity to make a bid for freedom. With a quick rolling maneuver, you manage to slip from underneath the arm still holding you and make a mad four-legged dash to get out of sleepy skeleton arm's reach. Success!

Before you can celebrate too much, a heart wrenching cry emerges from the still-sleeping monster. In his slumbering state, he's reaching out, searching for something (presumably you) desperately. He's whimpering in such a pathetic way that you can't help but feel a little guilty for (possibly) being the cause of his upset. Luckily, his brother had finally noticed his plight and rushed over to comfort him. Papyrus bodily picks up the bulky skeleton and cradles him like a child, cooing soothing words at him in an attempt to calm his nightmare.

As you watch the taller brother attempt to comfort Sans, a thought occurs to you. Neither of them are paying you any mind. You cast your eyes about the room, a plan rapidly forming. There! The keys to the car that brought you here are sitting on a rickety side table. As quietly as you can, you edge around the two skeletons, making your way to the door, which is blessedly easy to unlock. You quickly but gently slip through and shut the door before practically falling over yourself to get to the car. You wrench the damaged driver-side door open and throw yourself into the seat, not bothering with the belt, you punch the key into the ignition and turn it. You wince as the engine sputters, struggling to start in the cold.

This is how you die, like some cliche horror movie victim. You frantically try again, cursing when you fail. Again and again and again until finally, blessedly, the sound of the engine starting reaches your ears. You slam into drive, and peel out of there, a wave of snow showering the windshield as your tires kick it up.

You switch on the wipers to clear your view, only to scream at the sight ahead of you. Sans is standing in your way, power emanating from him in dark waves. His skull is tilted slightly down and his eye socket is devoid of its usual red light. The darkness of his empty sockets seem to suck the light out of the sunny morning and bore into your soul. In a split-second decision, you decide not to stop. You would charge him until he had to move away. There's no way he'd win in a game of chicken with a car. Determination flowing through you, you floor it, speeding towards the motionless skeleton. As you fly every closer, you start to realize he's not backing down but you're too late to stop now, you're going to hit him! You slam on your brakes just as the hood of the car connects with Sans, who you just noticed has reached his arms out as though to catch the car. You're jarred violently in your seat as the vehicle comes to an abrupt stop. No way…

As impossible as it seems, Sans has indeed stopped the car with nothing but his hands. There are two massive dents where his palms connected with the metal of the hood. You stare in horror as he slowly, deliberately releases his grip on the car. The entire time his empty gaze has not left you. You feel it crawling down your spine like a million tiny spiders. He rounds the car slowly, deliberately, until he stands before you at the useless driver's side door. Your chest is heavy with unfathomable dread and you can feel yourself shaking with a mix of adrenaline and terror. What was he going to do to you now?