Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dr. W. D. Gaster was God’s favorite. The title sounded glamorous, but it's really not that special. The concept of “God” is a tricky one, most of everyone in the Underground including Gaster were atheistic, but this entity that called itself “SOUL” had godlike power over his world, so therefore they are God.

SOUL, despite technically being God, doesn't act like it. They fawn over Gaster, and always seem shocked to some degree when they see him, for reasons he doesn't understand. He remembers the first time he met SOUL, it started as something that appeared in his computer claiming that his world was a game and that they were the player. A lot of hacking on their end later, they can physically appear in his lab now, they even have a body!
Today SOUL has graced him with his presence again, they’re perched on his desk like a bird, running their fingers through their hair. Their appearance never stayed the same, but the one thing that always stayed consistent was how utterly impossible they looked. Gaster could barely comprehend what he was looking at, quite frankly it gave him a headache. They were the first thing he noticed when he entered his lab, they glowed disproportionately brightly compared to how dim he keeps his lab normally, he couldn't help but look away.

When they speak, their voice seems to reverberate all over the room, so loudly that he was almost afraid 1-S and 2-P could hear it from their cell. “Doctor! I've been waiting for you." They piped up, hopping off his desk and stepping uncomfortably close to him. When he first met them, he’d been excited at the possibilities with a specimen like them, and they seemed perfectly fine to be tested on, but now that he knows better, they're just kind of annoying–that's it.

He remembers that he needs to respond to what they said and replies, “Hello, SOUL." They put their hands on their knees(?) to get on eye-level with him, he can't see their face too well but judging by the gleam of their teeth he can tell they're smiling. A gesture that– if anyone else had done it– would seem mocking. “How was work, doc?" They said in a tone that he thinks is supposed to be friendly. Their voice doesn't translate that well into his world. “Fine." he says as dismissively as he can, but he can feel a migraine coming on, which kind of makes it hard to focus on being an asshole.

SOUL doesn't take the hint. They follow him as he advances into the room and takes a seat at his desk. They get back on his desk, carelessly kneeling on a stack of papers. Gaster sighs, “Can you not?” he tells them, gesturing to the stack of papers. “Ah, sorry, sorry.” They get down again, instead choosing to lean on his chair, shamelessly looking over his shoulder at everything he writes and types.

When their forearm accidentally brushes against the back of his skull, he jolts. “Fffucker-!” Their touch feels electric, and leaves a weird tingling after the initial shock dies down. “You good?" they ask, leaning forward and practically looming over him. He just looks at them. Hesitantly, he turns around to face them and reaches out, resting his hand on their shoulder, he swears to himself that it's just out of curiosity. They were warm, and the shock was less intense from the first time, he could only feel a small buzzing after the fact. It feels like touching a live wire. “Watcha doin?" They tilt their head at him, a gesture that Gaster just barely catches. “... You feel strange." is that answer he comes up with after around 20 seconds of pondering.

“Strange in what way?”

“The interesting way.”

“What kind of interesting?"

“Quiet, I’m trying to think.”

“Sorry.”

Gaster’s hand slowly falls back to the armrest on the chair. SOUL is the one to move next, though, they grab his wrist, and he can feel the buzzing through the sleeve of his labcoat. “Is it interesting in the way of… you wanna test it?” they say, tilting their head. He can't tell if they're making an innuendo or not. With SOUL holding him by the wrist and leaning over him, he almost felt trapped. Did he want to test it? He must've started breathing too hard or glowing, or else just showing some sign of discomfort because SOUL retracted their arm and said “Whoops, sorry. Just go back to working…”

“Hold on.” Gaster gets up from his chair, circling around and standing in front of SOUL. The prospect of “testing physical touch with SOUL” brought a few intrusive thoughts to mind that he has trouble shooing away, and he prays to whatever other deity besides SOUL that he isn't visibly blushing.

He rests his hand on where he thinks its chest is, but his fingers brush their eyelid(?). Maybe they just have an eye on their chest? It's hard to tell when Gaster always needs to squint around them. The buzzing that's coming from them feels like it's transferred to him, and is now humming through his whole body, deep in his bones, reaching marrow. If he had flesh, the feeling would be coursing through his veins. He feels it in his eyesockets, which glow unintentionally, he feels it in his soul, which makes him gasp. His hands clench into fists reflexively, and he unclenches when he realizes he’s practically groping SOUL. “Is this, like..? Are you seducing me?” they say, definitely as a joke– Gaster chooses to ignore the barely noticeable twinge of hope in their voice.

“Don't be vulgar.” he says, he means it in a reprimanding way but it comes out more like a whine. “Ho-ly shit, you totally are!" they say, pointing like they're a teenage boy that just caught him on his phone during school hours. He doesn't know how to salvage this interaction.

At a loss for words, the silence goes on for so long that SOUL fills it. “Oh, am I making this awkward? Sorry. So uh, did you want to, or like..?” they say, shifting their posture to appear more approachable. He can't tell if they're nervous or not.

He remembers that they just asked a question that he’ll need to answer, and he lets his hand fall to his side. He considers this, on one hand, he kind of wants to know what would happen if one were to fuck God, it's the scientist in him (and definitely nothing else, especially nothing to do with emotions). On the other hand this is clearly a terrible idea that will most definitely haunt him forever should he decide to go through with it, but the way his hand is tingling after touching them is clouding his mind. He glares at SOUL, but doesn't break their gaze as he shrugs off his lab coat and leaves it on his filing cabinet. SOUL gets the hint.

They grab him by his shoulders and push him back onto his chair, pressing his spine into the back of his chair. “How does this work for skeletons again?” they say, wasting no time helping him get his shirt off. “Uh, my… soul–” he gestures to his chest. SOUL has him cornered, their wings fold over the armrests, they kneel over him, leaving him entirely trapped under them. At least the position offers some privacy.

Their hands roam his ribcage– he just now notices that they have claws. They run their fingers down his sternum, he shivers at the thrumming feeling that’s left in their touch’s wake. “Fuckin- easy, Easy!-” he puts his hand over theirs, did they leave scratch marks? “Sorry, doc.” They say, “...Hurry up.” He replies.

He’s not sure where to put his hands, so he rests them on SOUL’s biceps. The buzzing calms him. SOUL nods and reaches inside his ribcage, feeling around sending waves of that humming feeling through his whole body. God, it feels so good. He squirms, trying to get more, he needs more. Mercifully, SOUL gets a hold of his soul (haha), they hold it in their hand, and it feels electric. Sparks of pleasure jolt through his whole body, all he can think of is more, he needs more, it’s just not enough. They get both of their hands on his soul, they hold on so tight that a whimper escapes from his gritted teeth and they press their thumbs into it, stroking roughly, he whines pitifully.

His soul is pliable in their hands. He’s digging his fingers into their arms, distantly he wonders whether or not they can feel it, since this is a videogame to them. He forgets about this quickly when SOUL starts digging their claws into his soul. It feels like a taser to his being, and it hurts so good. He grasps at anything he can to keep himself grounded. He feels feathers in his grip, he must’ve grabbed one of their wings. They run their hands down his soul again, god, he must be soaked. Between SOUL’s obnoxious brightness and the sheer overstimulation of how roughly they were treating him, he couldn't see shit– were his glasses even on his face right now?

Every time he finds himself thinking about something, SOUL drags him back to this little world beneath them where it's only him and that burning electric pleasure SOUL is making him feel. Their hands are all over, it's too much, and not enough. They lean forward, they crash their face into his, the closest thing to a kiss they’ll probably get given he has no lips. It's good enough for him, though. They scrape their teeth against his insistently, they bite at anything they can, they're just as hungry for more as he is. They squeeze his soul in their hands again, and this time his moans are drowned out with SOUL’s “kiss”. They lean forward and bite down on his clavicle, canines dig into bone so forcefully he’s worried that they’ll crack for a second, but this thought is drowned out with more of SOUL’s rough handling.

They pull a hand away from his soul, coaxing a frustrated whine out of him, they grab his shoulder and shove him hard to the back of the seat– he didn't even realize he was leaning forward. He’s acutely aware of how wet SOUL’s hand was and why. “Hggh… What are you-?!” Gaster sputters out before SOUL goes down and drags their tongue across his soul, he lets out a shaky moan– he didn't notice it before, but they have a forked tongue. Every time their teeth brush against it, he shivers and whines. They reach in again, closing their fingers around it, holding it flush against their lips(?). They're tugging it out of his ribcage, they scrape their incisors against it, opening him up further and licking the interior, and the electric feeling dominates all common sense. He grasps at their head, closing his fingers around their hair like it's a lifeline– and to him, it was.

They don’t let up, they suck and lick and bite and gnaw until it all reaches a boiling point, and it’s all-consuming. All he can feel is that electric shock taking over everything like a power surge, bringing all of Gaster’s feelings, his pleasure, his shame, all gathering to the front and spilling out through his soul like a dam breaking, sizzling under SOUL’s touch. They continue rubbing their hands over his soul– were they trying to scrape off the fluids? They lean forward and rest their head against his, slightly nibbling on his mandible.

After a moment, they back off from Gaster's trembling form, their hands lingering on his body, fingers slipping between his radius and ulna. “How was that, Doc? Any notes?” They tell him, horrifically unbothered by the disgusting things that have just transpired on his office chair. When he’s too tired to respond, SOUL gets off him, they extend a hand to help him up, and he wants to deny it, except he’s too fucked up to move, so he just makes an annoyed sound as he shakily takes SOUL’s hand. “C’mon, Doctor, I’ll walk you to the shower.” they tell him, and their voice is as loud and migraine-inducing as it always has been, and Gaster is almost thankful that it's loud enough to cut through the fog of thoughts– not like he’d ever tell them that.

Chapter Text

Gaster wasn't quite sure where he was, it didn't really matter, though. Wherever he was, it was dark, or maybe he was just tuning out the light. It was quiet and empty, or maybe he just didn't register the sounds or people that might be surrounding him. All he knew was the horrible thing that he just did.
He can still feel the drill in his hand, a sensation he can't escape no matter how many cigarettes he smokes. He replayed the scene in his head, the tears, the screams, the begging– a part of him wonders how the two of them are doing. Can they process what just happened to them? He sure can't. He was so sure he’d be willing to see this whole project through, that he could tough it out for the sake of monsterkind, so why is he doubting himself now? He shouldn't be feeling anything, he tells himself he doesn't feel anything, but the statement is hollow, even if he only says it in his head. His hands start to tremble, and he curses himself. He must be willing to see this project through to the end. He will see this project through. He just has to.

Gaster grabs another cigarette from his pack, and he lights it. As soon as he brings it to his teeth, a bright light glares from behind him. He flinches, and whips around. He thought he should be able to immediately recognize SOUL’s obnoxious presence by now, and he’s disappointed to admit that when he sees their signature red, he thinks he's under an attack of some sort. When he realizes, he looks away, recalling what happened the last time SOUL had paid him a visit. He didn't plan for how SOUL could come into the mix, who could predict something like them anyways? He recalls asking SOUL if they can do something about the barrier, but they told him, “I don't think I can change the course of action this world will take. Not for a while, at least.” When he asked what they meant by that, they told him “You won't be here when I get control of this world’s timeline.” He chose not to press further. He wonders if they know what he just did, or what he plans to do. Their knowledge on the present and future events were oddly hit-or-miss at times.

“Yo, doc! I've been… kinda scared to show up again after last time,” they admit, “This isn't gonna turn into one of those, uh, situationships, is it?” they ask him, sitting beside him casually. Gaster drops his cigarette, he wasn't used to how loud their voice was, since they had been AWOL for quite some time after the incident. “Situationship?- Ugh, I don't have time for your antics right now, I'm trying to think,” he waves them off, leaning down to pick up his cigarette. “Did something happen while I was gone?” they ask him, oblivious. “I-... don't you-? It's just… ugh…” he sputters for a moment, then turns to them with a weary look. “How much do you know?..”

“About what?” they ask him, he can't tell if they're acting serious or not. He can't read them no matter how much he tries. He looks at his hole-punched hands, all he can feel is frustration, but he's not sure who he's angry at. “About… This world. About me, and… about my work. About everyone. How much do you know?” He questions, and despite SOUL having way more pairs of eyes than necessary, he can't bring himself to meet any of their gazes. They glance down at the holes in his hands, and they bring themselves talk at a normal speaking volume.

“I know what happened to your hands. I know why you did it, and I know what you made out of them. I know the kinds of things you plan on doing to those kids, and I know how many of those plans you'll actually go through with. I know what they're going to become when they grow up, and I know what will happen to you at the end of this experiment to help them become that.” they tell him, “What happened, Doctor?” they ask him.

Gaster doesn't say anything. He looks down, crushing the cigarette in between his fingers subconsciously. This whole time, they knew. This whole time they knew what a terrible person he was, they knew of the countless unforgivable things he would do, they knew and they didn't care, they turned a blind eye, they didn't even mention it– they pinned him to his office chair and fucked him while knowing full well that, at some point, he would restrain two living, breathing things to an operating table and drill metal plates into their hands while they writhed and screamed and– oh god, were they watching him the whole time? He was going to be sick. He had hoped that SOUL’s presence would somehow distract him from the disgusting reality of what he'd done, but now all he wants is for them to go away, for them to wipe themselves from his memory and never appear again.

“Doctor?” they snap their fingers, and he's taken back down to Earth. “What did you… do? To them?” they ask him hesitantly, and the air suddenly seems heavier. “I-...” He starts, but doesn't finish. He buries his head in his hands, but the holes in his palms make it hard to cover his face. “The… plates. I…” He tries again, he knows that SOUL already knows exactly what happened based on that, but he feels compelled to tell them the whole story, even if they already know. “I took Subject 2 first. I strapped him to the table, and I…” he shudders, “While I was getting ready to start the procedure, he… he told me…” he tries reaching for his cigarette, but SOUL grabs his wrist. That thrumming sensation is mind numbing in a way that he can't tell if he likes or not. “He told me that he was scared. And I… I told him…” when he finds that he can't say it, not in front of SOUL, they finish for him. “‘Good, you should be scared of me.’” They concede. The words don't feel right when they're said in SOUL’s voice. Gaster’s breath hitches, he stares at them despite the spots in his vision that appear when he looks for too long, and neither of them say anything for the longest time.

Gaster, holding back tears, speaks first. “I don't get it. I just don't get it. Why are you being so nice to me?” he asks, and he doesn't get an answer. He already knows. SOUL isn't from this world, SOUL is “god” to him, but to them, nothing was real. They don't care about what he's doing, because to them it's just text and images on a screen. They don't care about the sex they had because to them it was just inputs and clicks on a keyboard. He was stupid to think of them as any better than a human, he hated how betrayed he felt. He had convinced himself that he didn't care about SOUL, that they were a nuisance to him, but…

A tear or two dares to fall from his eyesockets, he lays his head down and refuses to grace SOUL with any more of his words. He hates himself for acting so childish, he hates SOUL for playing with his feelings, he hates everything and everything hates him back. SOUL watches him cry for a long while. They act concerned, but he knows that under all of that is sick, twisted satisfaction. He can just tell that they're absolutely relishing this, the ability to break him, to make him cry and come, all in the same timeline. The ability to take him apart and put him back together. He knows he deserves it considering everything he's going to do, and that makes him cry harder. A clawed hand rests on the back of his skull, a cruel mockery of a kind gesture. They tell him, “I'm sorry about your family.” in a voice riddled with fake sympathy, and then they dissapear as if they weren't even there. The fact that their absence makes Gaster feel so lonely is possibly the cruelest thing that SOUL could've done to him.

Later, when he checks the footage of the subjects’ reaction, Subject 1 asks himself, “Oh god, what is he going to do to us?” Gaster lights yet another cigarette, as he asks himself the same question. Oh SOUL, what is he going to do to them?