Love is ___.

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Love is ___. (Valentine's Special)


Alphys:

Love is holding her hand when her body begins trembling with anxiety. And you hold her hand despite the wrinkles of her mitt being covered in a layer of sweat. Her eyes flicker from you to the subject that is making her nervous. She focuses so much on the warmth, the stickiness between your palms that she forgets why she's shaking. All of the sudden, her shoulders broaden, brows coming together as she concentrates on her words. She is no longer fumbling her tongue, her fingers stop fidgeting. She ceases glancing over at you for confidence. She found her zen, and you smile down at her.

Asgore:

Love is how you handled his favorite flowers with deliberate, gentle movements. He recognizes that you caress his face in almost the same manner; tenderly, and with a grace unmatched by any human or monster he has ever met. Everything you do is handled in such a way that it always seems like you are trying your best not to harm anything. Most days he believes that you are benevolent god, but one that is denying it is a god at all. You would laugh at him if he told you that, call him silly for such thoughts. But you're too beautiful, he knows, to just be human.

Asriel:

Love is how you climbed a hill every day just to see him. You never once complained about having to stress your knees to reach him, or the beads of sweat that trailed down the back of your neck when you finally met him. While he only rested at the top, you spent each morning and night scaling the slope. And it was all just to see him. He never understood you, but it was flattering. And he would hold you despite your soiled clothes and your hair becoming unkempt from the wind. You were perfect because you fought ridges to be with him. In return, he could only hope he would defeat mountains to be with you.

Bleu:

Love is how you only smiled at him, even when many different people gathered at his cart. You treated customers kindly, giving them the proper respect, a welcoming gaze. But when your eyes met his, your lips stretched and pupils widened in such a way that it gave him a rush. When you looked at him, grinned up at him, it was like the rest of the world disintegrated. All he knew in those moments was your face, your blushing cheeks, your sparkling irises. And though it might be selfish, he knew it all was only meant for him.

BP:

Love is the late nights spent cuddling on a balcony. He would flick ash off his cigarette, and despite you lightly scolding him about his bad habit during the day, you would let it go once night felt. You would watch the small clouds of smoke drift off into the skyscrapers, all while keeping your arms wrapped around his waist. The lights of other buildings kept your face dimly lit, and he could see the wonder, the amazement in your expression. Even when you were often met with this exact scene of the city, you treated it like it was a new experience every time. And it was all because his warmth surrounded you and gave you life. Nothing wonderful could ever die in his presence.

Chara:

Love is holding them despite their anger. And they had so many fits of it - shaking, hate-filled fits. Their fists would clench, shoulders set high. Their face was stoic, but you could feel the hot air that radiated off of them. And you would grasp their clothes despite the warmth. You were not scared of them hurting you. You knew in your heart, they would never be capable of doing as such - not now. Your arms wouldn't loosen from their back until they melted, silently sobbing in your shoulder. They became a puddle in your embrace, and you would shush them, telling them it would be okay. It would be okay.

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