I hope you don’t mind the change in format, but I thought some visual representations might help since I am terrible at writing kiss scenes lol ^^;
“N-no! I never thought I’d say this but- but y-you’re wrong. I’m not good enough. I’ll never be good enough. F-for anyone!” He sniffles, shoulders heaving with his ragged breaths as he turns away. The effort is wasted. You’ve already spotted the tears.
All it took was one harsh look from a stranger as you two held hands at the park, a sneer from a passerby when you dared to hug your boyfriend in public. No matter what you tell him, Gaster always falls back into this pattern of hating himself and doubting his incredible worth to the world.
Doubting his worth to you. All because he’s ‘creepy’, and ‘ugly’, and ‘broken’, and ‘useless’-
And if you thought your heart couldn’t break a smidgen more, he finishes in a voice that’s drenched in self-loathing, “You deserve better.”
Before he can say another word you’ve grasped his arms, turned him around, pulled him within reach, and showed him just how priceless he truly is.
You’d never thought the first time would be in public. The very smallest of his affections are shown behind closed doors, safely hidden in the privacy of your shared home. And even then, they’re not easily given! It could take hours of tense, deliberate prodding before he opens up enough to gift you with, say…a gentle hand squeeze. A light peck on the cheek. The only times you get something as grand as a hug are when he’s at the end of his rope, after a trying week of work or a sleepless night.
So when he puts his arm around your shoulders while walking down the street, you’re reasonably surprised. You’re baffled when he turns to you under the yellowed light of a crooked streetlamp and looks you straight in the eyes.
His mouth opens, closes, opens again, and finally presses into a tight, anxious line. You give him a little help by asking if anything’s wrong.
“Not…necessarily. You see, I-” Long, heavy silence. You wait it out.
He smiles at the sidewalk as he gathers his thoughts, grateful for your patience. He then dismisses whatever speech his brain had prepared and lets his actions speak instead.
Like a true romantic, he begins with candles, flowers, and a saccharine sweet declaration of his love through poetry. It’s quite good, actually. He has such a way with words…
But when it comes to the actual dating part of this perfect evening, he becomes distant. Quiet. Really, really awkward. He stands before you in total silence, toying with his sleeve and clearly fighting the urge to run and disappear into the darkness. It’s been a long time since he last became enamored with a human. Two and a half centuries, to be precise. He seems to have forgotten how this whole ‘relationship’ thing works.
“…was the ballad to your liking?”
You assure him it was incredibly sweet and romantic, if a little flustering.
He chuckles at that, your tiny confession having drawn him from his shell. “Forgive me, lovely, but I do love to see that marvelous blush adorn your cheeks…ah.” One long-fingered, elegant hand escapes the shadows of his cloak and guides your head towards his. “That’s the one…”
Oh. Great. You’ve been dragged into attending yet another ‘Royal Ball’. Asgore, while he still fulfills his main duties as King, doesn’t bother to host these high class events anymore. There’s no point. The caste system itself has begun to dissolve as monsters of all backgrounds integrate with human society. Gaster, however, just can’t seem to let go of the past. He loves his wealth and power far too much to become a ‘normal’ citizen.
To be fair, there’s no harm in hosting a party now and again. But as his partner, you’d have to dig deep for an excuse not to show up. It is such a pain in the ass to put on bright smiles and fake believable laughs while dealing with the snobby, rich jerks who somehow get through the doors.
Especially the ones who think you’re available. Normally, they’ll back off after the first mention of being ‘taken’. This guy, unfortunately, is not getting the hint.
Right as you’re about to smack that shit-eating grin off this creeper’s face, Gaster intervenes and puts an end to the encounter right then and there.
Poke. Poke poke. Poke.
It appears that your fish is bored, if his assault on your leg is anything to go by. He’s been relentlessly prodding at your mysteriously scaleless skin in something akin to reverence.
You are smooth.
You congratulate him for the astute observation. The sarcasm does not go unnoticed.
Scowling, the voice he projects in your head loses some of its awe. How do you even swim with these things?
You offer to show him. A dip would be nice; this heat is getting to be unbearable. He leads you further in, past froth and waves to the still, open water. His head slips below the surface and, when you hesitate, the tip of his tail peeks back up and waggles invitingly. You finally let yourself sink to end up face to scarred face with the mer-monster.
He smiles with his many rows of teeth. You smile back. Something unfamiliar and warm pools in his chest, and it’s this something that tells him to place his lips against yours. He isn’t sure why, or exactly what he’s doing, but it sure does feel right.