(AU Sans x Reader) Unknown Bond Mixed With Puns *Being rewritten/edited*

A House Full Of Memes

Y/n woke up from her bed and sat up, still in a daze. Her mind was sleepy. She glanced around the room before rubbing her eyes through the blindfold and fixed her messy H/C hair: the blue and red strand now dull in the dark room, the curtains shielding her from the slowly brightening sunlight outside.

When did I get in bed? Wasn't I watching a movie with the others? Oh. . .

How nice of them. She thought, placing her feet on the ground while blinking hazily around the room. Her vision was blurry.

She changed out of her clothes from the day before and put on new ones; reminding herself that she needed to program the house later.

She let out a yawn as she slipped out of her room, wandering down the hallway and heard. . .

She heard the echo of clattering pans from downstairs, which she can only guess the source would be in the kitchen? and smelled. . .what seemed to be. . . smoke?

Fuck. She thought, walking slightly faster down the hallway, not noticing the new name labeled above a doors, and headed silently down the stairs, seeing Exco waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her: glaring into the kitchen.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

As she got closer to the kitchen, she heard yelling from a very loud voice, along with a someone who seemed to be using slang from the. . . '90s?

She looked at the ceiling where small wisps of smoke were piling up into clouds. She questioned how it didn't set off the fire alarm.

Do not burn down my kitchen.

My RedBull is in there.

"I'm just saying that I don't think smoke should be coming from the pan, my radical dude." A voice spoke.

"Well, you're not the chef, Fresh!" A voice that sounded like Ink yelled, Y/n hoped it wasn't Ink.
Y/n made her way down the stairs and stood by the kitchen doorway: not believing what she saw.

How the hell did I miss what appears to be a walking meme and Ink apparently attempting to burn my house down. She deadpanned as she watched Ink and the new skeleton while leaning against the doorway.

"So. . . is smoke for breakfast?" She yawned, watching the meme and Ink jump before turning to face her: Ink knew he was in trouble.

"Yo! That was so unrad! Sneaking up on us like that my dudette!" The meme spoke.

"U-um." Ink stuttered. "Good morning?"

"Not a good morning, Ink. Smoke isn't a good flavor," She stated, Ink smiling nervously as he debated on if he should run. "Now. . . who the heck are ya." She said, not bothering to question why she got censored and ignored the glare from the meme.

"Oh! That's-" Ink got cut off as Y/n rose an eyebrow.

"I asked the new skeleton," Ink flinched.

"Not you, Ink." Ink frowned: a pinprick turning into a teardrop before he turned back to the burnt bacon: now silent as he wondered what he did wrong.

We were having such a wonderful time yesterday. He thought. So what did I do wrong?

"They call me Fresh my dudette!" Fresh smiled and pointed finger guns at her before he frowned, tilting his glasses down with a finger.

He noticed her unusual appearance but, he decided not to comment or question it.

"But, don't be so not radical to my bro, Ink." He smiled again, placing his glasses back to their original place.