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DISCLAIMER: Oh my God. I started out writing what I thought would be an Angsty Sans/Frisk piece and out came... This thing. I do not condone sex with underage minors. I do not condone what Sans is doing. This Sans is really off-canon, this Sans Has Issues, and it all just kind of spiraled out of control from there and oh God please whomever reads this please keep in mind that this is a FICTIONAL story with FICTIONAL characters and it should not in any way be imitated in real life. I know that the Frisk in my story is in her teens when... when it happens... but I feel like I have just written this fandom's version of Lolita. ;___; I AM SO SORRY Please just don't read, the plot bunny just had to get out. GAH.

So here it is, to be barfed up into the world, here's this horrible piece of filth. (I'm sorry too, Radiohead, your song came on the radio as I was writing I AM SORRY. D:)


You float like a feather

In a beautiful world

And I wish I was special

You're so fuckin' special


But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo

What the hell am I doing here?

I don't belong here




The first time Sans met the human, he had seen nothing remarkable.


Sure, having a human finally fall to the Underground was going to be hilarious. Just wait until Pap saw her! He was going to have a heart attack and he didn’t even have a heart. The human herself, though, had been nothing to fuss about. She was so quiet and weak, and although she laughed at his jokes she did not seem to display any humor of her own. In fact, she barely spoke. Despite the newness, she was a bit boring.


She was completely unremarkable, this child, just like everything else in his life, and he would have forgetten about her soon enough if the world ever RESET again. At least, the kid had seemed unremarkable in the short time that he’d known her. Sans had felt a twinge of sadness—he was heartless, but not heartless!—when the human child hadn't known any better than to run from Doggo, the half-blind sentry dog, and died for her mistake. It had been a real bummer, he had felt guilty then. Not able to fulfill his promise to the Lady Behind the Door was clearly going to bug him for a while, but how was he supposed to know that the girl would try to run from a dog who specifically shouted he could only see moving things? The fight had been over before he'd even had a chance to react.

Oh well, at least there had been some degree of excitement. It was a real bummer Pap had never gotten to see the kid, but now Sans would get to tell him all about it and at least that was something new.




The second time he met the human, Sans started to pay attention.


He remembered this kid, somehow, as if they'd met in a dream within a dream or perhaps in a different lifetime. The kid seemed to share his sentiment; she had looked at him rather strangely after she took his hand and heard the whoopee cushion.

It was… Intriguing, to say the least.

"heh... that one never gets old..." he laughed with her and smiled, but this time the smile was forced. He recognized that scratched record feeling— He had said these words before.


This time, before the kid met the dog, he made sure to explain to her what to do if she ever got hit with blue attacks.


The girl caught on quickly and proved to be quite smart, honestly, despite that initial hiccup with the monster-dog. Papyrus' puzzles were not too difficult, by any means, but the speed at which the kid solved them—the ones that worked, anyway—was, while not super-impressive, at least not something to scoff at.


When she kept laughing at his jokes, he found that he could rather grow to like this kid, if he gave her a chance.


Then she died when she refused to fight a monster of no importance, leaving Sans kind of feeling like he’d suffered a bit of a loss.




The third time he met the kid, he was ready.


He was no stranger to the feeling of the world being RESET. He had felt this, grown to identify the feeling and expect it, long ago when he worked with the last Royal Scientist. The RESETs had nearly caused him to grow insane before he began disassociating. But for some whatever reason—perhaps because he had grown familiar with it, though he would never be sure—he alone held the vague memories of previous lifetimes firmly on his mind. The entire rest of the world seemed to forget just as soon as the world RESET.


Then everyone went about their days like machines, repeating the same actions and the same words over and over again. Sans alone knew what had happened before. Even Papyrus had grown too predictable to Sans' liking, after a while. It had left Sans feeling so alone until finally, in the end, he quit bothering and decided that he couldn’t care any less.


Then the RESETS suddenly stopped and Sans thanked the Heavens, not that he had ever seen the Heavens, but then the world suddenly began RESETting again and it left him feeling hopeless and frankly rather angry once more.


And then he found the anomaly in this kid that he had never seen before, until the first time, what felt like a few timelines ago. This kid, it seemed, could vaguely remember past timelines. This kid, it seemed, though new to the Underground, could vaguely remember him.


He brought his lab notebook to their meeting this time, carefully kept in one of the pockets of his oversized hoodie. He never parted with it again.


"Human," he said again, his voice purposefully serious to increase the comedic effect of the whoopee cushion. "Don't you know how to greet a new pal? Turn around and shake my hand," he said to the kid, and the kid did shake his hand, this time faster than it seemed natural.


The human still looked afraid of him before the whoopee cushion, but the sound and feel of it seemed to set forth a weird look of recognition. She definitely remembered Sans, even if she didn't know she did.


And Sans? Sans would always remember the kid now. The kid’s description would remain engraved into Sans' lab notebook, no detail amiss, from her oversized sweater down to the color and style of her slightly worn-out shoes.


Sans didn’t often need his lab notebook. He often was able to on his own remember most of the other timelines, he so often remembered most of them, but if there was anything he found caught his interest within this hell-between-RESETs, he made sure that, with his lab notebook, he would not ever forget.


 He gave the kid his now-usual dialogue, even though the fact that this kid was human did not seem so hilarious to him anymore. But if repetition was what it took, he would repeat himself a hundred timelines until he was finally wedged into this kid's memory. Sans felt an unwanted twinge of hope as he considered the idea of somebody new truly remembering him.


Perhaps he and this kid could become friends.


But then the kid was taken from him once again, she died when she faced the married dogs, again and again, until Sans finally figured out that this kid was the reason behind the sudden reappearance of the RESETS and he found that he liked this kid considerably less, was about ready to hate this kid for her role in bringing back those damn RESETs, only that feeling didn't last because suddenly she grabbed his hand before he was even done fully extending it towards her, and he knew she was so close to being aware that she remembered him, and suddenly he felt weak.


Sans was weak, so very weak, and when he had a moment of weakness, other people usually suffered for it, and he hated to do it, but he was selfish.


"you know, ah, if you ever meet a couple of dogs..." he said to the kid after she successfully completed one of Pap's puzzles. "if you ever meet a couple of dogs, they're kind of dangerous, but if you killed the female, afterwards, the male won't put up much of a fight."


And he felt guilty, guilty even as he said it, and a wave of relief washed over him when the kid didn't fight the dogs, but rather figured out that if she rolled around in the dirt, she could trick them into thinking that she wasn’t human, and then she could Spare them.


Sans was a weak, hateful, pathetic little skeleton, but this kid was proving to be stronger than he could ever believe. When Sans had just about given up, the human was still filled with love and determination.




The kid died a couple more times, and each time it felt increasingly hard for Sans to watch.


He was not keeping his promise, but how could he? He was morbidly fascinated by the kid's actions. Each time the kid faced a monster, her actions would be different. Each time she tried to make it to Snowdin, she would bring with her something new.


There were times when the kid never made it out of the Ruins until weeks later, if at all, and those timelines were almost unbearable. Sans almost drowned in the monotony.


Then came a timeline, though, when the kid did make it out of the Ruins in record time, and she had looked so sure of herself, Sans had almost wept with joy. He was so sure that she remembered everything, finally, and so great was his joy that he failed to see the thick layer of dust on her clothes and on her hair, neglected to notice the sharp knife held firmly in her hand. And by the time Papyrus was dead, no more than dust on the kid’s sneakers, Sans had felt so betrayed. And then the murders just kept coming, and they were new but Sans wanted no part of this, and they made it further in time than they ever had but Sans - wanted - no - part - of - this.


And so he waited for the human at the Judgment Hall, heartless chest full of hate and rage, magic seething, and when she finally came he tortured her and killed her again and again and again, and he found that each kill was miraculously more enjoyable than the last, and he hated her, but he was fascinated—


The next time he met her, the next three or four or maybe the next dozens of times, Sans killed the kid on sight.


He killed her so often that she grew to instinctively recoil at the sight of him, and when he got tired of killing her, he killed her some more.




And  a g a i n.


A n d  a g a i n.


Until one time he was about to, and he noticed how relatively tidy she looked, how clean she had always looked, without a speck of dust. And he tried hard, so hard for her, to swallow so much of his hate and anger—he was always so weak to hate, so weak to anger—and extended his hand and the kid recoiled, but she still took it, still meekly laughed at the whoopee cushion and it felt like forgiveness and Sans hated himself.


Hated himself so, so much.


And he wondered how many times he had missed out on her laughter because he had clung so firmly onto his hate. This human child was different from the one that had killed Papyrus so many timelines ago, she was always just a little bit different than the last time they met, and he hated himself now for not remembering that.


That night, when the kid finally made it to Snowdin, Sans ripped up all the pages in his notebook that reminded him of the many ways he had killed the kid.


But he did not forget.




"say, kid. don't you have a name?" Sans asked her during a timeline when they met at the Librarby, suddenly realizing that, while he always called her "kid", or "kiddo", or "pal", he had never actually bothered to ask for her name and the kid had never told him. He felt so badly about it now, the kid had grown close enough to him and Papyrus to occasionally crash on their couch instead of at the inn, yet because she was human, and because she was an anomaly, he had been so distracted by her uniqueness he had never bothered to get more information directly out of her.


The kid always RESET at Snowdin now. She seemed to have SAVED in his and Papyrus' shed, actually, which Sans personally found very amusing. He would have to ask her how she managed to SAVE, eventually, when they went further into their friendship and gained more trust, but somehow he doubted the kid even knew.


The kid had finally warmed up to him, in this timeline, months ago, and she considered him a trusted friend. Sans in turn had warmed up to her many timelines ago, not that she would ever know. Not that she ever remembered.


"It's Frisk," she said simply in a quiet voice slightly hoarse from disuse, and Sans was surprised to find that the voice did not quite sound like a child's anymore, although it was not very adult-like either. The kid was an adolescent, then. He shouldn't have been so surprised. Nearly a year had passed since she'd first reached Snowdin and the RESETs had happened less frequently then, each of them forcing him to relive at most a couple of days at a time, which Sans still would have found dreadful had it not been for the break in monotony that the kid—that Frisk—provided.


So the kid was an adolescent now, not a child, but still like a child to him who was so much older, not even counting the years of remembered timeliness. She was a child to him, was still a child, but something in her sweet, almost mature voice made him pause slightly as he finally looked at her, made Sans' gaze drop to the plumpness of her mouth, made him notice a certain curvature hiding beneath the kid's oversized sweater and suddenly Sans felt disgusted with himself because he was sick, sick, and he was disgusting, and he was weak,


He was oh, so weak,


So worthless,


And at the library he invited her to spend the night over at his house again, under the pretense of watching a new anime up in his room, and Frisk innocently took him up on his offer but he could see, see he faint blush on her cheeks, see the signs of the beginning of an innocent, childhood crush…


A crush that he w o u l d  h a v e   t a k e n  a d v a n t a g e  o f


And that night, when the world RESET because Frisk had run into Undyne again,when the timeline went back to the day before their conversation at the Librarby, Sans thanked the Heavens that he had never even seen for saving him from himself.


Sans was a weak, desperate, lonely and despicable skeleton.





Still, he called Frisk by her name now sometimes, and Frisk could not for the life of her recall when she had ever told him her name.




A few times, when the world RESET, Frisk would suddenly up and leave Snowdin as if driven with a strong purpose that was wedged deep within herself. Sans had learned to hate those times. They were the times Papyrus could no longer avoid fighting the human and they were the times that the human killed Papyrus and won. Sans would always kill her then, sometimes with hate, sometimes with dread, and sometimes he would kill her even before she managed to hurt Papyrus, but he didn't worry too much about it because then, finally, when the world RESET, Frisk would go back to being her usual self. And it was almost as if she had been possessed before in the other timeline, Frisk was so different from the violent human when she was herself.


And Sans thought it was no big deal if he sometimes killed her, that it would be no big deal if he gave in to his sick, sadistic pleasure as he did so by prolonging the torture and the taunting of this not-quite-herself Frisk, because there was no way she would remember, right? He could kill the Frisk that had once murdered almost all of monsterkind one night, and then that same night, after the world RESET, he would have the real Frisk, his Frisk, cuddling with him on his couch as he held her with his bony arms that still did not feel quite clean of her blood, held her even as his hate and anger still burned hot in his chest, taking a sick, possessive sort of satisfaction in knowing that no matter what she did, no matter what he did, Frisk would be by his side again if he just patiently waited for the world to RESET.


He didn't really consider the possibility that the kid might have nightmares, even as his nights were plagued by nightmares of his own. It wasn't until Frisk fell asleep on the couch, cuddling next to him, Papyrus long gone to bed and a bad rerun of Mettatton's cooking channel playing on tv, that Sans finally realized how his actions affected Frisk's subconscious.


He had just been laying on the couch, enjoying Frisk's radiant warmth that reached him to the bone even through their various layers of clothing, Frisk's breathing a steady rhythm, Sans' eyes finally about to close and give in to sleep when a small sob came from Frisk's mouth and she began to whimper, eyes fluttering rapidly underneath closed eyelids, and suddenly Sans was entirely too awake, and he was about to wake her up, but then she cried out.


She cried out his name.


"Sans..." Her voice, muffled by sleep, sounded almost like a moan, and Sans' breath caught in his throat, and he felt disgustingly weak as she clung to him.


Sans was weak and he was disgusted with himself as he lay motionless, paralyzed as Frisk thrashed against him in a way that felt so wrong, but oh so pleasurable because, if he grinded his hips against her so slightly as she writhed against him, blue magic concentrated rather lewdly on his pelvis by his own sinful arousal, he could feel the plump softness of her body grinding against his cock.


And the room glowed blue, and he was weak, so weak, so disgusting and unworthy and then another cry of pain escaped Frisk's lips and he forced himself to stop.


He roused her awake.




And when she opened her eyes, the entire room was glowing blue and he was not fully aware of the blue magic glowing in his eye or the tightness that was still in his pants that she thankfully never noticed, because she took only one look at his face and screamed.


She screamed so loudly that it woke up Papyrus.


She screamed so loudly that it drowned him in guilt as Papyrus ran down the stairs, shrieking, a bone in his hand to ward off any potential attacker.


She screamed so loudly and she pushed herself away from him and fell off the couch and he hated himself, he absolutely loathed himself because he knew what her nightmare had been about, he could practically see it in her fear.


Frisk had remembered his magic, her mind replaying for her in her subconscious the countless ways he had caused her to die.


The sudden awareness made him feel sick and guilty and it only helped to escalate his blue magic until he barely felt in control, could barely even repress it for Frisk's sake,


And so, like a coward, he ran.


He disappeared in a flash of bright blue light as Papyrus reached for the human, looking around frantically for the enemy. Sans' magic left the room with him. Frisk ran after him soon after.




He had felt small, so infinitesimally small, when Frisk found him by the waterfall.


She was sweaty and red, gasping for air, a huge coat—probably Papyrus' coat—put on rather haphazardly and unbuttoned over the sweats she had borrowed from Sans to use as pajamas,  her short hair a complete mess. She had obviously run after him as soon as he disappeared, had probably searched all through Snowdin before finally reaching the waterfall. There was fear in her eyes and he could tell by his goddamn uncanny ability to tune in with her emotions that some of part of her was still afraid of him, but that overwhelmingly she was afraid for him and that—


That would have melted his nonexistant heart, if he wasn’t feeling so much self-loathing.


He did not deserve someone like Frisk, would not deserve her in a million lifetimes.


And he felt so ashamed, so hopeless, so filthy, for loving her and desiring her like he did.


"Sans…," she said hesitantly in her wonderfully quiet voice, the voice she barely had to use because her actions so often spoke so much louder than her words.


And she was so wonderful and so full of love and MERCY the likes of which Sans had never seen. She had more caring in her pinky finger than Sans had felt in an entire lifetime and it hurt, it really hurt to feel how she focused that love and caring on him, he who was so undeserving, he who had not only killed her hundreds of times, but also let her sleep through her vivid recollections of his torture as she writhed against him and unknowingly grinded against his cock, a grinding that he had so throroughly enjoyed, despite her whimpers...


He had been so turned on.


It had taken Sans all of the self-control he had not to keep going, to wake her up instead of escalating further. And he sickened himself because he was really weak, he was disgusting, he was a creep...


And sometimes he felt that he truly loved her but then he really, really wished he had just kept going


"hey, kid." He grinned at her with some effort, that fake grin he used when he would much rather pretend everything was okay, but Frisk had grown to recognize almost all of his expressions, because of course she had, that kid had been crushing on him madly for months now, following him around town like a lost puppy, and she cared about Sans so, so much.


She ran to him and hugged him and he wished it hadn't caught him as off guard as it had.


"I'm sorry, Sans," she cried into his chest, hands desperately tugging at his hoodie as she held on to him, causing Sans to feel like complete and utter shit. "I am so, so sorry, I didn't mean to be scared of you, I am so sorry, Sans. I had a nightmare and..."—she started sobbing even harder—"I am just SO sorry, sorry for everything, I am the worst friend..."


"hey now, kiddo, no need to be so ruff on yourself, we both know you don't have a mean bone in your body," Sans joked, a skeletal hand patting her head, but the jokes felt hollow.


Frisk snorted, halting her sobs, and lightly punched him on the arm as she wiped her tears with her other hand. "Stop," she smiled up at him, and Sans was absolutely sure his heart would have melted, had he had one.


This kid... she was something. She was really, truly something, to him.


He took her hands in his, and began to gently knead them thoughtfully. She was so warm, and he loved the way his touch made her flush. If only she had been older, he might have been sure it was love.


But she was a child, just a teenager, a child to him, and Sans just knew in the back of his mind that even by this gentle touch he was taking advantage of her. Frisk was so innocent, so completely unaware of his malice and sin that he sometimes worried he might tarnish her just by thought. His thoughts towards her could sometimes get so sick, could get so putrid and sinful that he felt like they might really be bile slushing on his head, and yet Frisk would still look on to him with her sweet, adoring smile and rosy cheeks, completely unaware of the things that he sometimes wanted to do to her, the things that he did sometimes get close to doing to her, and he felt sick. He was sick. He did not deserve someone like Frisk.


Sans pushed his guilt away and focused instead on the warm softness of her skin. Tried not to focus on the anxious pounding on his chest. Tried hard to think, even as he marveled on the texture of Frisk’s skin. His voice was light and cheerful as he forced himself not to swallow bile.

"so, kiddo, you can tell your buddy sans... you had a nightmare, yeah?"


Frisk nodded rather shyly, cheeks adorably scarlet and doe eyes looking wide up at him as if Sans was the moon. Sans couldn't stand to look at her, she was so wonderful, and so instead he focused his gaze on their hands twined together and he kneaded Frisk’s hands and caressed them and his grin never faltered even when his voice grew strained. "you know… you can tell me, frisk, you can be tendon-ly honest, what the nightmare was about, yeah, kid?"


Fast as lightning, Frisk withdrew her hands and looked away. Sans tried hard not to think of just how much the rejection hurt.


Sans' eye sockets went black. He adjusted his body so he was sitting directly next to her, but he didn't touch her again.


"Frisk..." Sans said, voice slightly hoarse and finally serious. "You can really tell me, kid. In your nightmare, you hurt people, yeah? Do I also... Hurt you?"

Frisk took an audibly sharp intake of breath. Sans’ nerves were a wreck—so the answer was yes—and suddenly he felt the very selfish desire for the world to RESET, to go back to watching bad reruns on tv while cuddling on the couch alone with Frisk, to hear her moaning his name again, but this time out of pleasure, because if the world was going to RESET again anyway why bother with things like respect and morality, right?

But he had to be a decent guy, had to at least try, for Frisk.

“i… i have the same nightmares too sometimes, patella the truth,” he half-chuckled, trying so hard to sound like a harmless bag of silly bones instead of the bag of guilty nerves he felt like he was. “tibia honest, i’m not that surprised you get them too, kid. you remember the first time we met, right?”

Frisk nodded again, and to her surprise Sans actually laughed out loud. “tell me, kid: have ya ever met a human who was so eager to shake a strange skeleton’s hand? we had met before, kiddo, countless times.”

Sans’ laughter increased when he saw Frisk’s disbelieving stare, and he couldn’t contain it, he was so happy, he had waited so long to tell her how they had truly met. They could be equals in knowledge, finally, at least until the world RESET.

Eventually, his laughter died, and Frisk just looked annoyed. Of course she did not believe him, he would have to explain the science behind it first and he had the feeling that Frisk hadn’t even had the chance to learn Newtonian physics yet, much less be able to catch up to him if he attempted to explain the LOADS, SAVES and RESETS with four-dimensional vector calculus. The kid would have to trust him, for now, at least until he got the chance to take her to his lab and properly teach—

His mind became very dirty and he stopped that train of thought. The white of his eye sockets disappeared and he looked on away from Frisk with hollow eye sockets, dead serious for once. “patella the truth, kid… we’ve ‘met’ each other countless times, and some of those times, kid, you weren’t always the friendliest.”