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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.”

Chapter Text

"I've killed Papyrus?" Frisk said, voice strained. "The nightmares are real? But how..."


"everything you dream about has happened in another timeline," Sans said, voice as soothing and as light as he could make it, though he was finally getting excited at the prospect of finally sharing his knowledge with Frisk. "all in other timelines, kid. then the world RESETs and everything's fine."


She looked up at him, horrified, and he could tell she was probably recalling the horrible things she had done as the not-Frisk. He let his hands fall on her shoulders. "everyone's fine, kid, and they don't really remember anything that happened—trust me, i’d know—so tibia honest, there's no need to get yourself worked up about it. you are innocent down to the last bone."


"But—" Frisk began to argue.


Sans shook his head and his grin widened, but his eye sockets went black. "trust me, kid, if you were a murderer in this timeline i would've killed ya before you even had a chance to act."


Frisk's eyes widened and she shuddered slightly, but she didn't pull away. Sans could tell she was giving honest consideration to the possibility of the RESETs. By the look on her face, it seemed that a lot of things were finally starting to make sense. And Sans was happy, so happy. He had been incredibly anxious before, dreading the moment the kid found out about the RESETS, the timelines, his torture and her deaths, 


but now Frisk was finally getting to hear everything and she was receptive and oh God, she was so forgiving and MERCYful and good, oh so good, and now she was looking at him not with fear but with awe and a sort of acceptance and Sans couldn't help but feel over the moon.


He was no longer alone, not in this timeline, finally, thanks to Frisk. And the weight of the world and of time and of loneliness that had grown so uncomfortable had begun to peel off of his bony shoulders, and suddenly Sans felt a thousand pounds lighter.


She asked to know more, and it was still not entirely comfortable, talking to Frisk about what happened when she was the not-quite-Frisk. He had been afraid that she would start to hate him. But he found that divulging his sins was doable, and God, when he finally told her Frisk was so good, she had been so full of MERCY. The kid was indeed too wonderful, too amazing, for words. He could not even begin to deserve her.


"every time you die, you RESET," he told her, arms firmly wrapped around her as they watched the water fall in its steady rythm, and she had climbed onto his lap all on her own and had tucked her head underneath his and was clinging onto the front of his hoodie in a way that felt so innocently sweet, but at the same time so deliciously sexual, and Sans tried hard to control his arousal and self-hate.


"you RESET somehow and the world goes back to normal, but kid, 


Sometimes you come back and it's like the lights are on b u t  n o b o d y ' s  ho m e.


and i've finally started to be able to tell the difference. your movements become slightly jerky and you walk with such intent and purpose that it just sends chills down my bones. but kid, i myself am not the most forgiving skeleton..."


Sans felt her delicate hands tightening their grip on his hoodie and found that he was holding Frisk just a little bit tighter as well.


"and kid... i hope you understand... i'm already so sick with rage. you have no idea what it's like to relive the RESETs over and over and being the only one to remember it all. sometimes it feels like the universe is just playing me a sick joke. you and Pap are the only two i care about at this point. and kid, i love ya"—he said the words lightly but he did, he really, truly did to an extent that she would never know—"but when i find out Pap is dead or that we're in a timeline where he's going to be dead and you are the murderer i just... snap...


and I'm sorry, kid. I'm really sorry. i know i'm not the nicest monster this side of underground," he was aware he was rambling now, anxieties and fears spewing out of his throat, but he just couldn’t stop. "i really didn't think it would affect you, after the world RESET. if i had known you would have nightmares perhaps i would have been able to stop. but i was so angry, kid. and self-control is sometimes so hard. i know it's not for you but for me it's just so hard."


He was about to keep going, finding a sort of sick satisfaction by spewing this tirade of self-hate when wonderfully soft, warm, delicate fingers reached his face. And he looked up and Frisk was looking at him, really looking at him with such kindness and such concern, and her gaze made him feel so small.


"Sans... no... Don't worry, it will be alright," Frisk soothed him in her wonderful, beautifully gentle voice. "I don't... fully understand this, but we can get past this, Sans."


And he had felt such relief, had felt so loved at that moment, that he suddenly gave in and he kissed her, blue sparks of soft magic caressing her soft lips, shooting waves of pleasure down his spine. And when she shyly kissed back, hope blooming in her chest at the idea of having her crush reciprocated, he told himself that she wanted this and he couldn't help but give in.


And suddenly he vanished them and transported them to his room—had made them take a "shortcut”—and he was sprawled on top of her on his bed. And he was so frantic, mad with love and with lust, that he prodded her mouth open with a blue tongue that was full of magic without giving it a second thought, and he thrust his pelvis harshly against her as he groaned with pleasure into her mouth, and she grew quiet, oh so quiet, but he knew she'd had a crush on him for the longest time, so he told himself


She must want this.


And then he hastily undid the zipper of her jeans and pulled down the hem of his shorts before he couldn't even bother with that and then her pants disappeared along with her underwear. The room was blue with his magic as he finally, finally, was able to explore her body, hands under her shirt, exploring her chest, and she had grown so still at the feel of the blue member he had conjured against her entrance, and something felt wrong, but Sans was so weak and oh so very tempted, that he was willing to ignore it, willing to just keep going.


He took her small hand in his and guided it to his cock, morbidly turned on by the idea of having her guide him into her. And she didn't fight back, she didn't even move, and so he pressed his cock against her entrance and pushed.


Frisk gasped. Her hands shot up towards his hoodie and pushed against his ribcage. "Sans—wait—" She sounded so shy and so small.


And he pressed his teeth against her neck and bit, hard, even as he regretted it, regretted everything that he had done in this timeline, regretted taking advantage of Frisk—


And he just wanted to RESET, RESET, R E S E T


She screamed.


But he was desperate and he was a coward and he was weak


He pushed one more time and the tip of his cock met a slight resistance.


He should stop now, should really stop, what he was doing was wrong and sick—


But it felt so good, too good to stop, she felt so tight and warm and incredibly pleasurable against his magic, if a little bizarre, he had never done this with a human before, but he found that he was already addicted to the feeling of her cunt wrapping his cock and he wanted more, wanted to be completely inside of her if only just once


And he plunged himself inside her rather hard, the barrier inside her broke, he was up to the hilt now and she cried out in pain louder than before and he—


Shit!, Shit!, he instantly regretted this, he shouldn't have done anything, he shouldn’t have brought her here, Sans had really messed this up. He had in a single moment destroyed all of Frisk's trust and he was a monster, a freak, and he really wanted to keep going, he really really wanted to but Frisk started crying and he just could not, this timeline just needed to RESET, this shit he had done needed to have never happened


And then in his cowardice he killed her in a wave of blue magic


And the timeline RESET


And he hated himself more than he ever thought possible.




When Frisk RESET, that same day's morning, she did not remember. And that night, after cuddling again with Frisk on the couch, when Frisk cried out from the same nightmare, Sans did not wake her up.


Instead he let her thrash and squirm against him as her soft screams and moans engulfed his senses, and after he was done thrusting against her sleeping body he took pity on her and shook her awake. Then Frisk woke up screaming, unaware that Sans' cum was still wet on her borrowed sweatpants. Sans held her with slightly uneven breathing, still feeling the last waves of pleasure as he came off his orgasm  and feeling guiltier and more worthless than before he came. But at least, he told himself, at least this had not been the worst thing he had ever done to Frisk.




The next day, when for Frisk's sake he suggested that she stay at the Inn for the night instead of at his and Pap's house after she had been sleeping over for weeks, he tried hard to ignore the look of disappointment on her face and felt despicable.


She stayed at the Inn for several weeks. Sans avoided her whenever possible. But at night, she still had nightmares, and Sans knew that she had them because it was he whom she texted late into the night.




Then, one day, he ran into her as he was returning from his shift at the hot dog stand. She was so happy to see him, as always, running to him and greeting him with a hug—"Sans!" she'd called out happily in that voice that left him weak at the knees—and he would have been so happy to see her too had he not noticed her backpack.


"where ya going, kid?" Sans asked Frisk when she finally pulled away, beaming.


"Monsterkid and I are going on a hike to Hotland! We're leaving today. I am so stoked!" And her voice was so cheerful but Sans was just not.


"what are ya, crazy, kid? Undyne would have your soul if you wander out of Snowdin too far," Sans balked, voice rough with rage and concern and fear.


Frisk shook her head, still very clearly excited. "MK said he'd protect me if anything were to happen. It’ll be fine! We even packed extra supplies."


Sans almost laughed at the idea of Monsterkid, that weak and clumsy damn chid even attempting to protect his kid. But he was suddenly feeling so bitter.


So possessive.


So jealous.


So afraid.


That the words came out before he had even consciously thought of them, and perhaps he had come across in a way that was rougher than he had intended. "no way, kid. you're not going."


"Not going? What do you mean, I'm not going," Frisk said, and to Sans' surprise she sounded actually angry, angry for the first time he had seen in his life. He was stunned.


"h-hey now, kid," he started, hands moving towards her arms but she pushed him away. He was speechless. He had never before borne the brunt of her teenage rebellion, had never even know she was capable of it.


"I'm not a kid! Don't touch me!" she yelled, the sheer anger in her voice making him cringe. "You can't tell me what to do, Sans! You're not my dad!"


And he was at a loss. 


He was not her... dad?


A quiet sort of outrage boiled inside his bones.


He had never been aware of the paternal aspect of their relationship before. But now he thought rather bitterly, for all her pretense of maturity she was acting like such a petulant child. And he wanted nothing more than to growl in her ear that she was indeed not his child, show her exactly what he thought about her when he looked at that body of hers that was definitely not a child's, but he abruptly felt so guilty because, in a way, she was like his child. He had cared after her as he saw her grow up—


And he felt disgusted with himself, felt so guilty, and he was so paralyzed by the sudden mix of lust and guilt and conflicted emotions that when she ran away, he didn't run after her.


He didn't need to run after her to know where she'd gone anyway.





Still, when he let his body be led by its familiar pull towards Frisk, let himself give in to whatever sick connection it was that linked her to him, he thought that he shouldn't have been surprised that he found her hiding in the cave behind the waterfall. 


A small laugh came out of him. Of course the kid would be at her favorite hiding spot and expect him not to look for her there. It was almost cute, her naïveté could be adorable..


It was actually very cute.


"Go away," she groaned when he suddenly made himself appear next to her. She had grown unfazed by his sudden appearances and disappearances, completely unaware of the full amount of magical power they took. That Sans could appear and disappear by sheer force of will was no small feat, he was the only monster that he knew of that could do such a thing in the entire Underground, but it was just a mundane fact of life to her now and the fact that Frisk could so completely disregard his power could sometimes be quite hysterical. Sans couldn't help himself and snorted. The kid was truly just a naive, petulant child.


He wished that her childishness would have been enough for him to stop loving her as much and as deeply as he did.


He wished that the depth of the love he felt for her would at least give him the strength to resist his own selfishness.


He wished and he wished, but Sans didn't often get what he wanted, and he certainly never got the things that he needed.


"frisk... buddy... kid... i may not be your father, but that doesn't mean i can just let you do whatever tickles your funny bone. undyne would hunt you down if you ever left snowdin. you know what she wants from you, kid. monsterkid or not, you wouldn't stand a chance." And he couldn't help it, his eyes went dark, and when his voice became uncharacteristically cruel and he reached towards her and caressed her arm he could feel the goosepumps rising on her lovely skin.  "You'd never even make it out of waterfall."


He heard her sharp intake of breath, and Sans knew that he had successfully scared the kid into not leaving Snowdin, at least for a while. Maybe, when the time came, when she finally decided to meet Asgore again, this time as Frisk instead of the vile and violent not-so-Frisk, she and he might leave together. 


There was a pause during which he reveled in their silence and the warm soft feel of her skin. Then Frisk spoke with her wonderfully soft voice, tinged with a layer of embarrassment and a delicious blush on her cheeks that was definitely there due to his touch, and said "I'm sorry for yelling at you."


Sans smiled and pulled her close to him. "there's my Frisk," he said warmly, and his voice sounded forgiving and his embrace seemed to mean forgiveness. And only Sans was aware that deep down in his sick mind this embrace was meant for something more than that, and when he looked down and saw Frisk blush, her body trembling slightly with nervousness as she let her head fall against his chest, her innocent feelings for him more visible now and stronger than ever, he knew he had succeeded, that Frisk was now well aware of what exactly she felt towards him, and Sans had to muster all of the self-control it took not to growl at her


Don't ever call me your dad again.




That evening, when she called him on his phone and mumbled something about not wanting to sleep alone at the Inn due to nightmares, Sans hated himself for giving in and offering that she could sleep with him in his room instead.


He told himself that it would be no big deal, they already cuddled on the couch when she stayed over more often than not anyway. But then Papyrus had given him a strange look, and he knew that he had crossed a line, but when Pap didn't say anything Sans pretended not to have noticed.


They had a bit of a party that night. Pap cooked pasta. And Frisk was so happy, so overjoyed to be with Sans and his brother that her smiles became contagious. Sans told more jokes than he’d had in weeks. He and Frisk started a pretend-fight against Pap with what Sans dubbed to be his Impasta Blaster (in reality a can of Chef Boyardee that Sans kept for the sole purpose of annoying Pap). Frisk laughed with glee when Pap grew so annoyed he responded to the pretend fight and threw a sofa pillow at Sans. And then Frisk switched sides, declared herself to be a spy for Pap, stole the jar of pasta sauce Sans had been keeping hostage, and made Papyrus cackle so loudly with glee thinking that his side had won, but Pap was not victorious for long. For at the last minute Sans bribed Frisk back with the promise of a dessert that did not include Pap’s trademark (and utterly inedible) Macaroni-n-Sprinkes. Then Frisk became a double agent, Pap threw her another sofa pillow for her betrayal, Frisk and Sans recaptured the jar of spaghetti sauce and emerged victorious.

By the end of the night, Frisk and Pap had laughed so much that they were complaining that their sides hurt, Paps claimed that his “Friendship Level” with Frisk had reached the triple digits, Frisk was beaming and declaring them both to be too humerus, and Sans was happy,

Happier than he had ever been.

Chapter Text

The next day, he woke up next to Frisk and Sans was so content.


And sure, he was also aroused. Frisk had positioned herself rather snugly against his body, with one hand over him and her face pressed against his chest, and as he held her close to him he briefly contemplated the idea of waking her up with a flutter of soft kisses against her skin and perhaps telling her how he really felt and—


And there was no need, really, for Sans to expand on this. Waking up next to Frisk was just perfect all on its own. He felt he wanted more, but he didn't need more, and for now he was just so content. So at peace.


He loved her.


And he hated that the alarm had gone off and he had to leave for work.


"frisk..." he murmured softly against her forehead, and he couldn't help it, he was still so groggy with sleep, he planted a soft kiss on top of her head. "kiddo, it's time for me to get up."


Frisk made an unintelligible sound and shifted her body even closer to him.


Sans chuckled against her forehead. "you're scooting the wrong way, kid. c'mon. i have to go to work."


Her voice was still muffled by sleep and she groaned but he was able to make out the words "Noo... stay... be a lazy bones."


Sans chuckled a bit harder at that. "c'mon, kid, let me go. you know how mad paps gets if i'm running too late to eat his breakfast pasta. you can sleep in"—he gave her another kiss on her forehead—"i'll take you out to brunch during one of my breaks, yeah?"


She smiled at him sleepily and pulled away then, letting him go. Sans immediately missed the contact, but his grin widened. "then it's a brunch date."


Her eyes snapped up to him at blushed, eyes now wide awake with excitement and hope. And Sans really wanted to hold her and kiss her, tell her that it could be a real date, if she wanted, but instead he winked at Frisk rather mischievously and disappeared.


And he could hear her loud groan of exasperation all the way from the kitchen. Frisk hated when he vanished like that.


Sans smiled.




That day, while doing patrols near his sentry station, Sans visited the Lady Behind the Door.


He had come to learn her name was Toriel, a very friendly-sounding woman who lived inside the Ruins and knew Frisk. Sans was aware that she and Frisk spoke on the phone sometimes, that they had a sort of mother-daughter relationship even if Toriel had never come out into Snowdin to visit Frisk. And sometimes she and he made chit chat, and he told her all about Frisk's day, how the kid was doing, if she had accomplished anything worth noting...


And usually the words he and Toriel exchanged were just jokes and then chit chat, but today he had a set topic of conversation in mind and walked purposefully up to the door. He knocked loudly once, knocked loudly twice, then waited.


"Who's there?" came the voice from behind the door that he'd grown to recognize as Toriel's.


Sans almost snickered. "theodore."


"Theodore who?"


"theodore wasn't open, so i knocked!" Sans heard loud laughter from behind the door and affection rushed into his chest cavity. Toriel always found his bad jokes hysterical.


When the laughter died and Toriel was able to breathe, she greeted him. "Hi, Sans."


"hey, toriel," Sans smiled. "having yet another a-door-able day?"


A snort from behind the door. "More or less, Sans. How is Frisk?"


"you know that kid, growing more determined each day," Sans said with a fond smile. "she has been, ah, getting kind of feisty though. is that normal for a human kid?"


There was a pause. "I suppose so, given her age, but Frisk was usually such a sweet child. She's not giving you too much trouble, is she?"


"no, ah, not at all..." and there was a silence. When Sans continued, his voice was a little more serious. "it's just that she wanted to leave snowdin yesterday. had planned a hike with this other kid without even telling me."


"A child her age?" Toriel's voice sounded intrigued and a little excited. "She has a friend?"


Sans felt more than a little offended. "well, i'm pretty sure the kid has at least a couple of friends, tibia honest, if you count me and pap."


Toriel laughed. "No! I meant—hah—I meant a special friend."


Sans' throat went dry.


"Often, when girls get to Frisk's age, they start noticing boys. That's what I meant." Sans wanted nothing more than to finish this conversation, he was already done, but Toriel couldn't exactly read his face from behind the door and so she just kept talking. "Sometimes I wonder how that poor dear is going to do in life, without a human mother to guide her at such a delicate age... The teenage years are crucial in a young lady's development…


"Sans, you will protect her and guide her, will you not?"


Sans felt his sins crawling on his back.


"i—yeah... yeah, sure, toriel, that's what i've been doing..."


"Thank you," Toriel whispered with so much trust and relief, it made him feel dirty. "I'll make sure to call her tonight and ask about this other child."


And he was getting ready to leave when Toriel added to her request. "You should probably have a talk with her about this friend too, Sans. From the way she talks about you, it seems like you're the closest thing she has right now to a father."


Sans felt like a rusty dagger had somehow lodged itself into his chest and he couldn't quite pull it out.


"Frisk worships you," Toriel said affectionately.


And he was done listening. He was so done. And so he packed up all his self-hate and his pain and he left.




When late morning came and Sans met Frisk at Grillby's, he was not quite himself.


"Sans!!" Frisk grinned when she saw him enter the restaurant, waving at him rather excitedly from their usual seats. Sans forced a grin and joined her, but his eyes felt dim.


"hey, kiddo," he greeted her. "have you ordered yet?" 


Frisk shook her head as he sat. Sans didn't have to ask Frisk what she wanted at this point. Brunch was always the same. He looked over at the flame monster who was watching them rather intently—though that was probably Sans' imagination—and put up two bony fingers. "grillby, two stacks of pancakes please."


"Extra syrup on yours?" Frisk asked, smiling wide at him, and her voice was slightly teasing. Sans liked it when she spoke. 


The skeleton laughed a little at her dig. She had come to learn that he liked to drown his food in condiments, a fact Frisk found to be rather hilarious. Sans raised a brow bone at the kid and smiled teasingly. "I'll make sure to leave some syrup for you to be able to draw all over your pancakes, kid."


Frisk blushed a furious shade of pink. Being a teenager, she probably thought it was immature of her to still draw faces on her pancakes. Sans just thought it was adorable. He was about to say something when their order came.


"Double order of pancakes for Sans and for the child," Grillby said, the flame monster's voice rather rigid and stern with a tinge of disapproval, and it sent chills down Sans' spine.


Grillby knew. He knew, or at least suspected. Had probably noticed the way Sans had started to look at Frisk.


Sans removed the hand that had been positioned a little too close to Frisk's and kept both hands to himself from then on out, eyes firmly on his food. He was starting to feel even worse.


Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Frisk put a decent amount of syrup on her pancakes. She did not draw anything. Sans shouldn't have teased her. He felt bad for having killed yet another part of her innocence.


Briefly, he remembered the feel of her body wrapped around his cock during the last timeline. She had felt so tight. And it took what felt like all of his effort to control his magic and forget how extremely pleasurable it had felt to be completely inside Frisk.


A virgin. Frisk had been a virgin when he took her. She still was one, during this timeline, wasn't she?


Unless during this timeline that little friends of hers, Monsterkid, had gotten into her pants before Sans did. No. Scratch that, not before he did, no no no, he was not to pursue the kid, he had promised Toriel—he was so much older than her and she was so naïve


And it was ridiculous, really, to be feeling jealous and competitive towards Monsterkid, of all monsters in the Underground. Sweet ASGORE, how had he reached such a low point in his life? He should just go back to dating—dating other adults—


Did he still have Toriel's number? It might be tough luring her out from behind the door, but maybe if he could, he might date her...


Sans shoved another spoonful of syrup-covered pancake into his mouth. Somehow the food still tasted bitter.


He started just drinking the syrup straight from the bottle, hating the world and its sick sense of humor, hating… fuckinggoddamn Monsterkid, hating himself.


He felt a sick sort of satisfaction knowing that, RESET or not, her remembering it or not, he had still been Frisk's first.


Maybe in her dreams she remembered it. The possibility both excited and terrified him.


"…Sans?" Frisk's voice snapped him out of his reverie. He hadn't realized she had been talking. Sans hand shot to the back of his neck.


"uh... sorry, kid"—he grinned apologetically—"you were saying?"


"I said Papyrus and I are going fishing tomorrow after he gets off work. Do you want to come with us?"


Sans forced out a chuckle. "kid... you do know that with that loud voice of his pap scares the fish away, right?"


Frisk smiled her sweet smile, making him stare. God, how he loved her smile. He wondered how that little mouth of hers would feel around his cock.


NO, Sans. S T O P.


The grin died from his face as he took a strong breath and shifted his gaze to firmly focus on his plate.




"i think i have better things to do tomorrow than watch you and pap scaring fish away," Sans said, voice rather harsh, but he could not help himself.


Frisk's own voice took a worrying tone. "…Sans? Are you okay?"


He was feeling rather nasty and it wasn't Frisk's fault, it really wasn't, but he really didn't want to deal with his own shit right now and—


His voice was cold. "look, kid. let's just eat."


He could feel Frisk's hurt cling to the air as they finished their meal in silence. Sans was quietly fuming. He just hated and hated. Hated the world. Hated himself.


He loved Frisk but he also wished that he hated her, too.


It wasn't until they exited Grillby's that Sans finally noticed how much he had hurt Frisk. Her eyes were slightly wet and puffy as she stared at the ground, mouth curved slightly downward. She was holding back tears, Sans felt stupid for not noticing earlier. Shit.


Sans felt awful. He felt like scum. And he still wasn't feeling like acting like his usually cheerful self, which was an act that got often quite draining, but he couldn't just go and leave Frisk crying alone.


He took a deep breath and held her back by her arm when he noticed she was starting to walk away from him, probably to go hide behind the waterfall.


"look... frisk," he said, and Frisk stood so still that he could tell she was having a hard time listening. "listen. i'm sorry."


Frisk just nodded. 


Sans took another deep breath, hating himself. "i'm not mad at you, kid. i'm sorry i got like that with you. i've just had a really rough day, alright? i'll talk to you about it tonight," he promised though he had no idea what he was going to actually talk to her about. How he lusted after her to the point where he was jealous of fucking Monsterkid? Not-bloody-likely.


"Can I stay over at your place?" Frisk asked, voice small, and he really wondered, nightmares or not, why on Earth she preferred sleeping on his couch or in his cramped bed when at this point the innkeeper was letting her stay at her best rooms for free. Whatever the reason was, he would not complain.


"of course, kid," Sans said, voice soothing, and his arms pulled her into a hug as if by their own accord. "of course. you're practically family now, you know how pap loves you."


Frisk clung tightly to the front of his coat and he could hear how her breathing began to get uneven. She was about to cry unless he said something, she really was, so Sans opened his mouth—


"Sans... You don't really like me much, do you?" Frisk said quietly, her small voice silencing his own.


The skeleton froze. What the fuck…? Where had she gotten this idea from?


"kid… what are you talking about? i've never been this openly affectionate in my life." His tone was disbelieving and conveyed the implicit question of What more reassurance do you need?


Frisk's voice got very quiet, so quiet, her words muffled by her pressing her face firmly against the front of his coat, but when he strained his eardrums Sans made out the words "I know you act like you like me but don't. You yell in your sleep. And I... have nightmares too..."


And it suddenly felt like the world came crashing down on his shoulders as Sans gestured his hand slightly at the world with his magic and… made sure…


t h a t


t  i  m  e


s   t   o   p   p   e   d   .

Chapter Text

Sans looked around with mild interest. Everything around Frisk and him had stopped. The trick never got old.

As far as neat little magic tricks went, Sans thought that this was by far one of his best. It wasn’t even really that difficult to pull off. Understand the nature of time as a dimension and alter said dimension through magic. Easy-peasy. He did the same on a tridimensional plane on a regular basis. Why would manipulating another dimension be different?

Yet there was something indescribably eerie about sending his magic through a plane that he couldn’t see or feel. He couldn’t quite put the strange feeling into words. It was similar to a wave of cold slime crawling along his back, like he was doing something unnatural by sending his magic to a plane he couldn’t touch or fully understand.

A long time ago, Sans had thought manipulating time would be akin to drawing a tridimensional plane on a two-dimensional sheet of paper. Sure, you could fit the z-plane in there, wedged rather awkwardly between x and y, and his mind had initially had such a hard time wrapping his head around it, but eventually his mind adjusted.

The same thing never happened when it came to altering time.

He had been able to manipulate time with magic for years and he still had a hard time wrapping his head around it. It was not his favorite trick to do, but it was certainly very useful.

They couldn’t be overheard this way.

 “kid,” Sans began, but to his frustration Frisk was having a hard time focusing on him. She was too busy noticing how the world around them had become uncannily still.

“What did you do to them?” she asked him, her voice conveying a mixture of fear and awe.

He felt a sudden, sharp burst of pride at that moment. It was a victory, of sorts, to awe Frisk. He had impressed the anomaly

It had been such a long time since he’d thought of Frisk that way.

“i haven’t done anything to them,” Sans replied with a shit-eating grin. “just manipulated time with my magic. neat trick, huh? wanna see another one?”

He hadn’t meant himself to sound as malicious as he had, mind momentarily having snapped back to the timelines where he got to show off what exactly he could do to not-Frisk. The kid seemed to have the same recollection. She took a step back and shuddered—

wait, hold on—” Sans said quickly, hand moving to grab her but she shifted away. Shit. He grabbed her with his magic, enveloping her in blue and causing her to shriek out an ear-piercing scream—“frisk, calm down, i’m not gonna hurt ya, kid—”

“Let go—Sans, please let go, please, please—please don’t…, SHUT UP!—”

Frisk all but growled the last words, closing her eyes shut as she did so, hands desperately covering her ears. Sans just stood there numb with shock. He had never heard Frisk’s voice get so rough.

She whimpered for a while before fully formed sobs left her mouth and the nature of her pleading changed.

Sans! Please kill me, Sans! You need to hurry, make it stop, she won’t stop, she won’t shut up, Sans, please—”

How could he have forgotten, all those timelines ago, how thoroughly capable the kid was of catching him off guard? Sans was speechless, he was frozen on the spot. He hadn’t expected Frisk to start pleading for death, and now he didn’t know what to do—

Please make it stop, Sans, please, please, just make it end—

And Sans was a sadist, he knew he was, he thoroughly enjoyed inflicting pain, he’d come to find that out while hurting Frisk on so many timelines, and here was the kid completely under his control suddenly begging him, begging him for death, and she was sobbing and the tears looked rather lovely going down her pretty face, and he knew that if he complied she would not remember

Sans, please—please—

And his mind suddenly went to a very dark place because she was giving permission,

So could he get creative?

He was vaguely aware of his hand moving as of its own accord, drawing Frisk up, up— It was so easy—

She let out a loud sob but at this point Sans was barely listening.

She was giving permission,

So could he prolong this?

He was transfixed, only vaguely aware of the hardness that was forming under his shorts at the idea of seeing Frisk once again go up and down, up and down—her innocence this time might make it so much sweeter

Shut up, shut up—Sans!!” Frisk cried out his name more desperately than ever.

Frisk cried out his name.


This was Frisk, Sans told himself. Frisk. Frisk, Frisk, Frisk…

Something inside of him snapped.

And then Sans let her go before he gave in to her begging, the echo of her crying leaving him rather hollow.

Rather hollowhah—he’d have to write that pun down somewhere.

As far as humor went, his was getting pretty fucked up.

“who is talking to ya, kid?” Sans said over Frisk’s cries and hiccups. She had not moved an inch from where he had dropped her, sitting there on the ground just a few feet in front of him. It vaguely reminded him of the time she’d gone behind his back to climb a tree and then fell; San’s had been so mad, he’d told her it was dangerous…

Frisk quickly shook her head, it was clear she didn’t want to talk about it. She probably feared Sans would think she was insane. And to tell the truth she was sounding pretty crazy, but Sans had seen the way Frisk acted when she was not-so-Frisk.

“hey, c’mon now, you can tell me,” Sans said, voice soothing, and when he went to her and kneeled down to her level he put a hand on her shoulder and she flinched but didn’t run away. Her sobs intensified and she hid her face behind her knees. “frisk… buddy… kid… it’ll be alright, just tell me, something’s talking to ya right? just tell me who.”

“‘The demon that comes when people call its name’,” Frisk’s voice was barely above a whisper, she sounded so scared. Sans was starting to feel pretty freaked out himself.

“She tells me things, in my nightmares, tells me to do things,” Frisk’s sobs intensified again before she managed to let out a frantic “I’m sorry! I’m really sorry, Sans!”

If Sans had a heart, it would have been out of his chest by now. His hands shook. “kid… you remember?”

Frisk’s eyes opened so wide. “They’re not… real, though… the nightmares… right? I thought it just meant that I wanted to—”

“no, kid,” Sans reassured her, hands now deep in his coat pockets. “you wouldn’t hurt a soul. the nightmares… they happened before, a long time ago, but that wasn’t… you.”

Frisk’s gaze shifted sideways and Sans was eerily aware that she was listening to a voice that he couldn’t hear.

“h-hey… hey now. listen to me, kid,” Sans urged her, snapping bone fingers in front of her face. “don’t listen to whatever it is you’re hearing. tell me about the nightmares. and don’t beat yourself up over it.

“I… I kill everyone,” Frisk whispered. She looked completely ashamed of herself. “I can’t help myself from doing it. I try so hard but it’s like my body won’t listen to me. Sometimes I’ll even laugh, I—I think I enjoy it... and… you’re in them, sometimes…”

Sans swallowed, hard, as Frisk covered her face with her hands. She shuddered.

“You’re not… you, though. You’re really mean. That’s the part that I hate dreaming the most. That and… killing Pap…”


“…and I swear I don’t want to! Sans, I beg her to stop each time, I tell her I’d do anything. Please, I’m not really a—”

“kid, that’s enough—”

“—a Brother Killer—”

“Shut up.”

He hadn’t meant to snarl at her, he really hadn’t, but to hear his own hateful words coming out of her was—

It had been something he hadn’t been prepared for.

Frisk’s face was still hidden behind her hands. She was shuddering, wasn’t looking at him,

He took a very deep breath.

“listen, kid. i feel like this is going to be a lot to take in. let’s just talk about it at my place tonight, yeah?”

Frisk’s face shot up to him at that and she was looking at him, disbelief clearly visible on her tear-stained face. “You want me to sleep over? But—”

“you’re always welcome, kid.”

“But I thought—”

“no buts. you can always not show up if you feel like you’d rather sleep at the inn tonight. now c’mon, give your friend a hug”—he easily picked her up causing a small squeal to reach her lips, and pressed her face against the front of his coat as he whispered—“now let’s get everybody else’s party started again. time-stopping gives me the creeps.”

The Lesser Dog resumed barking.




It was proving to be incredibly difficult to lure Papyrus out of the house. Sans had tried everything from suggesting he go see Undyne for “official guard business” to trying to piss him off enough to stay at the Inn by insulting his spaghetti. Nothing had worked. Finally, he’d enlisted the help of Alphys via text. Pap was having none of it though.

“pap, poor alphys is bone tired, she needs those bedtime stories right away. you know how you feel when you don’t have a bedtime story, right?”


“have some empathy, bro. i’ll read you two stories tomorrow night, i promise.”


Sans shrugged and winked at him. “i’m a lazy bones, what can i say? if i went to help alphys, i wouldn’t be doing my favorite thing, which is nothing.”


Sans’ grin widened. “wow, bro. you’re sure gonna show me.”

“JUST SIT HERE AND WATCH! I’LL BE BACK BY TOMORROW MORNING!” Papyrus yelled energetically, grabbed the books and stormed out.

Sans let out a slow chuckle. “alphys… i owe you one.” Then he took out his cellphone and began to text Frisk.

hey, kid. coast is clear. u can come over. – Sans

A few minutes passed and he decided to start dinner while he waited for Frisk to arrive. He wondered what kind of food Frisk might like. With Papyrus gone, he felt like cooking something elaborate. He never got to cook anymore since Pap decided he made fantastic pasta.

Half an hour went by and he’d decided to make his signature cheesy mashed potatoes with water sausage. Did they have enough shredded cheese? He’d have to check…

Come to think of it, the kid was taking awfully long. He sent another text.

kid. c’mon, i’m making us dinner – Sans

He looked in the fridge and found they still had a lot of shredded cheese plus an unopened can of water sausage. The salt container was unopened as well. What on Earth was Pap putting on his spaghetti dishes? Was it just boiled pasta?

As he prepped the food, he began to get antsy.

sweet asgore, frisk. just let me know if u decided to stay at the inn – Sans

Fifteen minutes (he checked) and no reply. Now he was starting to worry.

frisk? – Sans

you alright, kiddo? – Sans

Finally, when he was about to turn off the stove and go hunting for Frisk, his phone beeped.

Frisk - I’m scared.

scared of what, bud? – Sans

kid? - Sans

kid, if u don't answer me within the next 5 min i'm coming over - Sans

i'm not mad kid, not going to hurt you but i'll be coming for you frisk – Sans

Exactly five minutes. No reply.

can't say i didn't warn you – Sans


He found her hiding once again inside the cave behind the waterfall.


"How do you always know where I am?" Frisk greeted him rather miserably, phone still in her hand from reading his last text. She was not surprised by his sudden appearance, not even really surprised that he hadn't seemed to look for her at the Inn first.

Sans forced out a laugh. He always knew, didn't he.

"we're connected," he answered simply, honestly.

Even with only the faint light trickling from the outside of the cave he was able to see her blush.

"Sans..."—she sighed—"let's just get straight to the point."

He froze because she was using his words. His words from before, at the Judgment Hall. Did she remember him saying that? Or was this—



She buried her face behind her knees and curled up in a ball. Frisk looked absolutely miserable. There was no knife in sight.

"I love you," Frisk said. Her words. Perhaps a little strained, but her words.

And Sans knew what she meant, had already known for the longest time, the kid had been crushing on him for almost a year by now and he—the adult thing to do—would be to just play it off as a joke so she could finally get over her silly crush on Sans—

He should have felt overjoyed but instead her declaration felt bitter.

"aw, kid, i love ya too," Sans managed to choke out, voice casual and dismissive, and he hated how the words came out sounding so full of that damn paternal affection Tori had been talking about. Sans was… at most a friend to Frisk…

He wasn't so messed up that he would want to fuck his own damn child, Toriel.

Frisk sat up, sighing rather loudly as her eyes shifted to the cave’s ceiling. She quickly ran a hand through her hair with frustration before pressing both hands against her face. Sans couldn't help but feel for her, she was trying so hard.

"No, I— You don't understand. I'm... I'm in love with you. I’ve been for some time. And I know that it's stupid and you don't have to say... don't have to say anything, I totally understand that you can't feel that way and am okay being just friends, but I think... I think she knows, the, uh... the soul inside my head."

Sans raised a brow bone at her but Frisk just went on. "I think she's trying to poison me against you. I don't know why she wants you dead so badly but I think—Sans, when I have nightmares about you they get so bad, and I think it's her, because... You've never... You wouldn't... right...?"

Ah, Sans realized bitterly. She really was scared, then. Scared of the truth.

"i wouldn't what, kid?" His voice felt empty.

"Sometimes, in my nightmares… you kill me. And I understand those, because after what I did to everyone, it's what I deserve, right?”—she stifled out a bitter laugh—“But…"

Sans took a deep breath.

"But... Sometimes... When you kill me, you take your time and..."

Sans closed his eye sockets.

"...and then, sometimes, you just... there is one nightmare that is... different..., I don't...

I don't... want to talk about it."

"kid... i don't know what exactly your nightmares are but you gotta face the fact that at least some of them happened. it didn't happen in our timeline, kid, obviously everyone is still alive, but it still... happened."

She seemed to have given his words outside of Grillby’s some thought because she didn’t question him.

"Did you remember me? In those other timelines?" Frisk asked. There was a sort of hurt in her small voice that quite stung.

Sans took a deep breath and looked straight ahead. He was still sitting beside Frisk but he began doubting that he was worthy of their proximity.

He let his body lean against the sharp rock of the cave wall.

He was tired. So tired.

"yeah,” he admitted bitterly.

And he wanted to just die.

"I don't think I remembered you," Frisk told him. "Sometimes I think I got the feeling that I had known you before, but couldn't quite tell from where."

"it gets easier to remember after you know what to look for," Sans explained. "maybe you don't remember everything, but you remember enough. i can teach you how. then, for everything i can't remember i carry a lab notebook."

Frisk's head shot up to look at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Sans gave out an honest laugh. "tell you that we exist right now in one of probably infinite timelines? kid. would you have even believed me?"

Frisk looked away. "Well I... guess not..."

And she looked so sad, so tired like he was.

"Frisk," Sans said, and his voice was unusually serious. "I do love you, kid. I mean it. I know you probably doubt that, I have no idea what I say in my sleep but thinking back to other timelines I guess my words must be quite harsh. I don't resent you for any of it, though. You are about as important to me as Papyrus is. Never doubt that."

Frisk let out a deep sigh, sinking against the wall next to him and staring at the same piece of rock before him that Sans had been looking at. Their relationship was so messed up. They had hurt each other so many times and yet Frisk—

She was in love with him. She'd said so herself. And Sans felt dirty for feeling tempted but he really wanted to confess too.

He didn't. Toriel had once mentioned to him how fickle teenagers were. Maybe tonight she thought that she loved him and then the next night she'd decide that she wanted to marry Mettaton, or travel the world—

Or date... fuckingMonsterkid...

And then Sans would be left with his feelings shattered out of his chest, with nothing to hold on to but his own bitterness and probably guilt that he had fucked a kid up, because there was no way he would be able to not sleep with her, if she seemed receptive...


Fuck, he already knew that there was no way he was be able to not stick his dick into her as long as she didn't outright refuse.

And it was so messed up, so goddamn fucked up, that he felt himself so strongly attached to this kid. It was as if an invisible string connected her to him by the chest and he couldn’t quite cut the cord. And it was sick, it was revolting, that when whatever entity lay dormant inside her became psychotic he seemed to be the only one who could kill her off. It was sick that he still felt her blood in her hands.

It was even more fucked up that he'd often enjoyed it.

And he often felt like they were meant to be enemies or they were meant to be lovers. There was no ‘friends’. There was no—goddamn—‘fatherly relationship’— Toriel!

A small hand reached for his bony one and he couldn't help but to hold it firmly, thumb grazing the soft skin. He felt defeated. It was like their timelines had been corrupted from the start.

"forgive me?" Sans muttered shyly. It was the closest he could get to admitting everything he’d done to her. He felt afraid and so small.

Frisk's hand squeezed his. She nodded, but didn’t verbally reply.

They sat together in silence for the longest time. Whatever Frisk had on her mind, she never quite shared it. And Sans just felt absolutely miserable.

Chapter Text

It was after midnight when Sans finally decided that they had been outside long enough.

Frisk wasn't talking much. That fact... unnerved him. She wasn't looking at him, either. She seemed completely lost in her world. Sans squeezed her hand a little tighter.

"kid... let's just go home"

And he transported them into his living room before Frisk had a chance to refuse.

Sans immediately felt a thousand times better. The couch was much more comfortable than sitting on rock inside that damp cave and the house was so much warmer.

"Thank you," Frisk whispered. It was the first thing she'd said in hours and he... didn't like the sound of it. It sounded so dejected, like even saying the words had hurt.

Sans was going to have none of this.

"so," the skeleton said, voice taking a happy, teasing tone. He made sure that, when Frisk looked up at him, she saw his best shit-eating grin. "you looove me, huh?"

Frisk's eyes went wide and her face went scarlet. All trace of melancholy was gone. "Don't you dare bring that up!"

"why not, kiddo? i mean, patella the truth, i'm flattered. i thought—"

"Sans, don't!"

"—beauty was—"


"—only skin deep."—Frisk groaned—"you must like me a skele-ton."

"No. I take that back. I hate you," Frisk said, hiding her face with her hands. Sans laughed.

"aw, c'mon, kid. no need to get so frisky."

"Oh, God. Die."

Sans' grin widened. He then poked her ribcage with a single digit.

Frisk gasped before she started laughing. "Sans! No—! Don't—!"

"don't what, kid? what do you want me to not do?" Sans asked, laughing a little himself as he started using both hands to tickle Frisk.


"yeah, stop? stop what kiddo?" Sans laughed. The kid was so ticklish, it was through sheer force of will that he didn’t do this every day.

Frisk threw herself off the couch in desperation but Sans followed, pinning her to the ground before she had a chance to escape. Cheeks slightly pink, she looked about to say something before he silenced her by renewing his tickling attack. She was squirming under him, gasping for breath in between laughs—


Another fit of laughter and she squirmed. Sans tried hard not to be aware of how good she felt wriggling under him.

"sorry, what did you say? i didn't quite catch that."

"STOP!" She managed to shout, and she pushed him off her. "Dork!"

Sans grinned at her. "made you laugh, didn't i?"

"Jerk." She smiled. Sans chuckled a bit at her accusation. "So what happens now?"

And Sans knew what she meant, but he was starving. "dinner? i made us a non-pasta dish before i went looking for you. we can just reheat it."

Frisk's eyes widened and he could tell she’d just realized she was hungry too. "You can cook?"

Sans got up and gave her a hand. "well sure, kid. i'm offended. who do you think did all the cooking when pap was a baby bones?"

"You never—Have you always—?"

"we were orphaned after papyrus was born, if that's what you're asking," Sans told her, and he couldn't help but show off; he set the table with his magic as he pushed the time buttons of the microwave.

Frisk stared with wonder at the dishes flying towards the table. "I'm sorry to hear that," she told him. Sans smiled. Frisk had always been rather polite for a kid.

"nah, kid, don't worry about it. that was a very long time ago."

The microwave beeped and Sans saw Frisk wordlessly taking out a bottle of ketchup from the fridge. He almost laughed. She knew his food tastes by now almost like the palm of her hand.

"thanks, kid," Sans said, and he registered the surprise on her face when he put the mashed potatoes and water sausage on her plate. Frisk had obviously not expected decent food out of him. Sans winked at her. "now, i know this is no pap's spaghetti, but frankly i prefer it when my food is edible."

"It smells delicious," Frisk said with disbelief. Sans grinned at her.

"it is delicious," he boasted, and then he drowned his water sausage with ketchup. "so now that you know i’m an orphan… how about yourself?"

Frisk looked at him with a mouth full of mashed potatoes. And Sans almost laughed, because normally Frisk was such a well-mannered child, but he had caught her so completely off guard that Frisk just looked at him, her face stuffed with mashed potatoes, and choked out a "Whut?"

His grin reached his eyes. "your parents, kiddo. you got anybody waiting for you at the surface?"

Frisk swallowed. "No, I— I'm alone too."

"geez, kid. you aren't alone. you have me and papyrus."

Frisk smiled and took another bite of mashed potatoes. "You know, this is pretty good."

"secret recipe," Sans winked. "so do you have any plans of ever getting back to the surface or what?"

"None," Frisk said, shaking her head. "I'm happy here. I would like to explore outside of Snowdin though."

A rush of jealousy flowed through him. Sans remembered the time he caught Frisk about to leave for the Hotlands with Monsterkid. He quickly suppressed the angry feeling. "you know, i get out of snowdin pretty regularly. i could just take you with me, if you want."

Frisk's eyes went wide. "R-Really? But what about Undyne?"

Sans let out a genuine laugh. His right eye flashed with a hint if blue. "kid, you've seen what i can do when i fight. do you really think undyne would be much of a problem if you’re with me?"

Frisk froze, her gaze dropped firmly to her plate. "Um—"

"hey, kid. relax. it was a joke. sorry i'm so bone headed."

The kid let out a shy laugh. “You’re such a dork.”

“whoa, now, buddy,” Sans winked. “flattery will get you nowhere with this skeleton.”

Frisk rolled her eyes and took a forkful of water sausage. Sans was so glad to see her acting like her normal self.

But then dinner ended and they went back to the couch to watch tv as usual, and he couldn’t help but notice how Frisk sat just a little more distant from him. They watched a full rerun of Mettaton’s cooking show before he noticed Frisk was falling asleep.

“kid, it’s getting pretty late. do you want to just crash on the couch?” And the real question, of course, was Can we just go back to sleeping in my room? But of course he couldn’t ask that.

Frisk hesitated, and maybe Sans took advantage of that. “or if you feel up to sleeping on a bed you can have pap’s since he’s gone. or you can still sleep with me. i don’t mind. that way i can wake you up if you have nightmares.”

When Frisk hesitated again, Sans made the decision for her. He placed a boney arm around her shoulders and winked. “c’mon, kid. you’re sleeping with me. i know a shortcut.”

When they vanished and appeared on his bed she blushed, but didn’t say anything. When she didn’t immediately curl up against him, he didn’t push it. He event tried hard not to take offense.

He was bone tired and she probably was too.

“oh, one more thing,” Sans said, suddenly remembering the conversation he’d had with Toriel that morning. He focused his attention on her and inspected her, and he really hoped she couldn’t sense his jealousy. “your goat-mom seems to think you might be having a bit of a crush on monsterkid…”—he raised an inquisitorial brow bone at her—“is that something you and me will need to talk about?”

What?” Frisk exclaimed, and her disbelief and embarrassment were evident. To his sick satisfaction, she clung to him then and hid her face against his hoodie. “No!! We’re just friends—jeez! That’s so embarrassing.”

Sans chuckled before teasing her. “good… wouldn’t want to make me jealous…”

Frisk groaned. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you.”

Sans winked. “i just don’t think i’d have the guts to fight over you…”

“Maybe you would if your heart was in it,” Frisk snapped back.

An unexpected joke. Sans became awfully quiet.

And then he just— started laughing so hard. The comeback had been so perfectly, annoyingly bad. She was perfect

“ah, kid, i love you,” Sans said between fits of laughter and when she gave him a shy smile, he hugged her. “i love you, i love you...” And she looked so radiant, so pleased

Sans really did love her.

He kept holding her even after his laughter died, and was relieved to find she didn’t mind. And Sans felt so happy, so unbelievably happy again, thanks to Frisk.

She loved him.

Chapter Text

He had several nightmares in consecutive order.


The first one he was aware of, he was on his bed on top of Frisk. And he was not proud of himself, in the dream, but she was naked, and so was he. He was vaguely aware of being inside her and thrusting, but he felt as though he was being manipulated by strings—he couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t control his movements. He felt trapped.


Frisk moaned and urged him on and the sound was so sexual that he was sure it wasn’t Frisk.


They were covered in dust.


The dream transformed and he was suddenly feeling angry, so angry, waiting for Frisk at the Judgment Hall. This was a dream he’d had before, had lived before. And he was aware of what might happen next, but Sans still dreaded it.


Would he be killing the not-Frisk or the real Frisk this time?


The kid approached him with a look of wide-eyed confusion on her face. She seemed scared and lost. So it was the real Frisk, then, this time. But Sans— Sans didn’t care.


His brother was still dead. There was a layer of dust still on her hands.


“Let’s just get to the point,” Sans heard himself say, ignoring the look of fear on the human’s face as he summoned four Gaster Blasters, and he was grateful that he would not get to see how he’d killed Frisk this time because the nightmare changed.


He was alone, completely alone. The experiment had been a failure and the timeline lay broken around him. Where was Gaster? Who was Gaster?


Who was he?


He witnessed as the entire world RESET. Had it just been a dream?


Then he was suddenly by the door that led into the Ruins. As soon as Frisk came out, she stabbed him with a toy knife—


Sans jumped awake to the sound of loud screaming that was not his own.


“What’s wrong?” Frisk asked, startled, and began to sit up before she was held back into place by a wave of blue magic. His magic. The human’s soul turned blue. “Sans!?


don’t you dare move,” Sans told her roughly. He felt an awful sort of dread inside his chest. He had to check on Papyrus.  Had the kid done something as he slept? He would kill her if she’d—


There was another loud scream coming from the living room and it was definitely Papyrus. Frantic, Sans teleported—


“pap?? what is going on?” And he was completely expecting to find a toy knife wedged in his brother’s chest, to arrive too late only to see Papyrus turn into dust again and he would kill Friskwould kill her for good this time, he couldn’t deal anymore with the fucking timelines and—


Papyrus screamed at him.




Sans stared blankly at his brother. It looked like he and Frisk had forgotten to clean up after themselves last night. There was still evidence of their non-pasta dinner in the sink.


“uh… my bad, bro…” Sans mumbled in disbelief, figurative heart still racing a thousand beats a minute. He thought it would hardly be appropriate to ask his younger brother is he was kidding me with this shit, papyrus? But seriously, what on Earth was wrong with Pap? It was still mostly dark outside. What was his brother even doing back home this early?




The human. Sans felt immediately guilty. He had left Frisk bound to his bed by magic. Shit.


Shit, Frisk.


“sorry, pap. won’t happen again,” he said, and ran.




But Sans was already running up the stairs. “uh— sorry, pap— I left my tornado running— ”




And Sans had stopped listening. Thank Asgore Pap had decided not to follow him. Shit, he’d acted like Frisk had— She would never forgive him. She was so full of MERCY but she would never forgive him


And then he reached his door and he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a voice that was decidedly not Frisk’s speaking from inside his room.


“—can’t believe you let yourself get caught again by the garbage brother,” the voice was saying. It sounded so sickeningly sweet and fake, and it sent chills down San’s spine. “Don’t you remember what I said? Smiley trash bag is going to kill youDon’t let him find anything more about you. Unless… heh… you want to have a bad time.”


Sans felt frozen to his spot. Whatever this voice was, it sounded so strangely familiar, and knew him. An unexplained hate ran through him, and Frisk must have whispered something he didn’t quite catch because the voice just started laughing a very cruel laugh.

“You trust him? Are you that much of an idiot? You can’t tell me you’ve really forgotten everything he’s done to you. Or are you really still trying to convince yourself you don’t know what an asshole he really is?


“Word of advice, kid. Don’t trust the garbage brother. If he finds out what you can do, he’s going to kill you over and over until you stop coming back. I can’t believe this is a REAL thing I have to remind you. He has already murdered you so many times.”


Frisk’s voice sounded strained. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please, Flowey— Just go away—”


Then Frisk’s voice broke out into a sob and Sans just about lost it.


Frisk,” he half-yelled, slamming the door open—


And he found Frisk alone still bound to the bed by his magic.


"oh, shit, kiddo, I'm sorry—" he snapped his fingers and his magic released Frisk. "i don't know what came over me. I am so sorry—"


"Is Papyrus alright?" Frisk asked pretty much immediately. She wasn’t quite looking at him.


"uh... yeah, he— heh, he was just pretty mad when he found out that we didn't eat his pasta last night."


Frisk let out a long breath Sans didn't know she had been holding. Then another one. And another one. She was hyperventilating. Shit.


He felt incredibly guilty. "kid, i—"


"I just… need a moment," Frisk said, hiding herself under his bedcovers. He could hear the lie thick in her voice. The covers shook. Shit.


Sans felt empty and worthless. He shouldn't have suspected her so readily, shouldn't have used his magic on Frisk. And he hated himself because there was a part of him—deep, very deep within himself—that secretly enjoyed the effect his still magic had on her.


Sans hadn't lied to Frisk, all those timelines ago. He was not the most forgiving skeleton, and the impact of Papyrus’ death was still feeling so fresh in his mind due to the nightmares.


Sans was a revolting skeleton and an even more awful friend.


He sat down next to her on the bed.


"kid... listen. i'm sorry i'm such a numbskull," he told her. "i wish i could say it won't happen again but i... i was having a real bad nightmare and then suddenly i heard pap screaming, you know? sometimes it's hard... to tell the timelines apart. i shouldn't have done that to you. i just didn’t know.”


There was a pregnant silence before Frisk spoke out. "Twice in two days. I hate it when you use magic on me."


He froze. 


"uh. sorry, kid..." 


She waved him off from under the bed sheets. "No... It's fine. I'm sorry. I'm just so ready to be done with today."


Sans chuckled. “me too, kid.” He checked the clock before cuddling up against the mess of blankets that was currently Frisk. He still had an hour before it was time to get up to go to work, and cuddling with Frisk was beginning to sound incredibly appealing. He kissed the top of her head through the sheets and felt a smug satisfaction when he felt Frisk freeze from underneath the covers. "you are such a nice human, frisk," he told her, before purring. "you know... i can make my magic feel good for you, too, if you want it to."


She didn't seem to dare move and suddenly Sans was aware of how boldly inappropriate he was being. "just kidding, kid. i was joking. no magic. promise."


Frisk let out a groan that sounded strained somehow.  "You're such a jerk, Sans."


"i'm sorry," he apologized and he nuzzled next to her. "i know i can be very boneheaded sometimes. i forget how easy it is to get under your skin."


Her head peeked out from under the covers. "Just shut up, Jokester Bones. Time for sleep."


Sans' grin expanded slightly. He began playing affectionately with her messy hair before his voice got serious. "i wish i could, kiddo. but we gotta talk."


He felt the light leave his eyes as he became uncharacteristically serious. Sans could practically feel the shiver his look sent down Frisk's spine before she tensed up.


"who was that who you were talking to in my room earlier, kid?"


He heard an audible intake of breath. Frisk was hiding something. Sans just knew it. His grip slightly tightened on her hair.


"It's— ah— you heard that," Frisk whispered and blushed. Whether she was nervous or ashamed Sans didn't know. "This is going to sound like such a blatant lie, but that was Flowey. Flowey the flower."


Sans' nonexistent lips twitched. "you're kidding me, right?"


An imperceptible shake of the head and Sans quickly loosened his grip on her hair. "sorry," he muttered.


"Flowey was the first monster I met when I fell down here," Frisk elaborated before Sans had a chance to ask. It felt reassuring, how quickly she was giving him this information. "It... He's... Not very nice. And he seems to remember me from before."


That really caught Sans' attention. "you sure of that, kid?"


Frisk nodded. "His very first words to me were ‘You again?’ I never quite understood it then but at the same time he just looked so familiar. I was instantly terrified of him."


Sans caught a flash of blue in his vision and he knew he had to be careful. His magic always tended to act up in tune to his emotions, and he was feeling pretty fucking anxious right now. "so he knows about the resets. why didn't you tell me, kid?"


"Flowey seems to know things about me that I'm not exactly comfortable sharing," Frisk explained, averting her gaze. Her blush deepened. "He's always reminding me of which monsters I've killed. At first I thought he just knew about the nightmares, but I..." her voice trailed off before she continued, sounding now slightly broken. "I can't believe I let myself kill everyone."


"i let you do it. we’re both guilty," Sans said bitterly. Then he added "kid... you're being honest with me, right? you really don't know how you cause the RESETs?"


Frisk shook her head.


"and you can't... you really can't remember anything that's happened before, unless you're dreaming it?"


The kid shook her head again. "I am not like you and Flowey."


Sans let out a low exhalation. "frisk... you trust me, right, kid?"


She paused for a long moment before answering so softly and hesitantly that even in the quiet of his room he had to strain his ear drums to hear it. "Most of the time."


He didn't know why that hurt him as much as it did when he knew perfectly well how capable he was of hurting her. She seemed to pick up on that sentiment.


"It's just... When you use your magic on me I just... I don't remember what happened in the past, but I remember, if that makes sense."


For whatever reason, that made him really upset. And he couldn't help himself, he had always been just a little bit impulsive when his emotions got the best of him and he felt so frustrated by her fear. And so he defiantly took a single digit and trailed it across Frisk's cheek, leaving a soft blue trail of his magic against her skin.


Frisk gasped, and Sans knew it was not with pain or terror because he'd made sure his magic felt light and pleasurable.


"What are you—"


"i wasn't entirely joking when i said i could make my magic feel good for you," Sans said, trailing another soft line of blue against her chin before he slowly moved across her jawline. And he knew that he was crossing a line but it was early morning and he just couldn’t bring himself to care. "i know you said you don’t like it… but you really have nothing to fear, kid. my magic can heal you. it can help you and protect you. i can't deny it isn't flattering that you remember me enough to be afraid"—his eye flashed a menacing blue and Frisk shivered either from fear or pleasure or both as his finger moved down her neck and traced her collarbone—"but i'd much rather know you're not going to have a panic attack at the slightest hint of blue because, kid, you are eventually going to see a lot of magic from me"


"Sans," Frisk said, she pleaded, and he was intensely aware of how she subconsciously leaned into his touch, how her hips shifted ever so slightly toward him with a need she was entirely too innocent to recognize, but was still alluringly inviting.


His smile widened into a smug grin as his fingers trailed a fine line of blue down the side of her clothed torso before he ran lazy doodles on the skin just underneath the bottom of her shirt. Frisk blushed a lovely shade of scarlet and her lips parted slightly as she looked at him completely mesmerized. His voice became huskier than the censor in the back of his mind considered appropriate, sounding alarm bells that he thoroughly chose to ignore. "do you want me to keep going?"


Her eyes went wide and her face flushed, and she was about to answer him when her phone started ringing.


Sans grabbed her phone before Frisk got the chance to, feeling incredibly irritated as his magic left Frisk. Who could it be at this ungodly hour?


He checked caller ID amidst Frisk's protests and demands that he give her phone back.


It was the fucking Monsterbrat.


"kid, if you answer this phone call i swear you're sleeping at the inn tonight," he all but groaned at her, now uncomfortably aware of the concentration of magic that had been slowly building around his pelvis.


The humans aboveground had called this cockblocking, he was pretty sure.


 She stole the phone from him and checked the screen as it rang. "It's just Monsterkid," she said innocently. God. She had no clue.


"calling in the middle of the night," Sans snapped, covering his eyesockets with a single hand as he grit his teeth.


Frisk laughed at that. "It's past eight in the morning, lazy bones."


"c'mon, kid," Sans begged. "just let it go to voicemail. we were in the middle of this," he quickly shoved a hand under her shirt and dragged it up against her back, leaving behind a trace of pleasurable magic that made Frisk suppress a sharp moan. "don't you want me to keep going?"


"Um—" Frisk hesitated, her lovely blush reappearing on her cheeks, and when the phone stopped ringing on its own Sans felt oddly victorious.


"good girl," he hissed triumphantly in a husky tone and pulled her so much closer to him. His mouth went to her neck and he sent a flutter of blue magic against her neckline and down her spine before he spoke again against her soft skin. "you get a reward."


"Ah—Sans," Frisk moaned, and he couldn't see her with his face pressed against her neck but she sounded thoroughly embarrassed and very aroused. He had her. This was it.


"do you want me to keep going, kid?" 


Frisk froze, and the lack of resistance would have been enough, but Sans knew that she was enjoying this and she was acting hesitant but mostly receptive and he was in a mood to hear her beg.


He pressed a hand against her navel and bit her earlobe.


"do you?"


"Um— Sans— I—"


It took all of Sans' willpower to not send a wave of Gaster Blaster to Frisk's phone when it rang again. If that was Monsterkid again, he was going to murder him.


Frisk checked the caller ID. It was Monsterkid. "Um—this might be important," she said, ignoring Sans’ protests of “are you kidding me?” and answered - the fucking - phone.


Sans took his hands off of her in frustration and pushed himself away from the kid.


"Hi, MK. You're up early." He could practically hear Frisk's sweet smile in her voice; it made him sick with jealousy. It didn't make him as sick as hearing the sound of Monsterkid's irritating voice over the phone, though.


"Wow, the capital? No way!" Frisk sounded excited. Sans couldn't understand what she was so excited about. Monsterkid's annoying voice sounded like an awfully inbred bird making dying noises over the phone. He sounded like a child going through puberty.


He probably was, indeed, just a child going through fucking puberty.


"I wish I could go but I promised Papyrus I'd go fishing with him today," Frisk said, and Sans immediately felt a rush of affection for his amazing brother. "Yeah, maybe some other time. Hah, yeah, you know how it is."


Then she laughed so readily and joyfully that Sans found himself wondering if it would mess up the timeline if Monsterkid met his Gaster Blasters. "You'll only be gone for three days! We'll see each other soon." Frisk smiled. "I'll miss you too. Yeah, we should meet up before you leave. Breakfast at Grillby's?"


Sans was murderous. 


"See you then, MK," Frisk said and then she finally hung up. 


Sans tried really hard to keep the jealousy out of his voice. He was not entirely sure he was being successful. "that boy likes you, frisk."


Frisk blushed. "No way, it's not like that!"


He raised a brow bone at her and gave what he hope was a teasing grin. But he felt the lights in his eye sockets go dim, and he was still mostly aroused himself from touching her and, frankly, he was just infuriated, why was he trying to play this stupid thing off as a joke? "he calls you first thing in the morning? how long has this been going on?"


"MK is a morning person," Frisk said, avoiding his question. "And we're just friends! He told me he already likes someone."


Sans almost laughed. "no way, kid. who?"


"He won't say," Frisk told him and this time, Sans laughed for real because this was clearly some middle school anime bullshit and he was so angry at the world. 


"he tells you that he likes someone but he won't say who? it's you, kid. how naive can you be?"


Frisk's blush intensified. She glared at him. "I am not naive. You have no clue. You've never even hung out with Monsterkid."


Sans laughed even harder. "i hardly think i'm at fault if i never want to ‘pal around’ with a kid who's decades my junior."


"You 'pal around' with me, don't you?" she snapped at him.


Sans didn't know how exactly to respond to that. 


"You know, sometimes you can be a real jerk," she told him, making Sans grit his teeth. This was Teenage Rebel Frisk again and he was getting really tired of her shit. "You don't know everything. And you need to stop treating me like I'm some little kid!"


"maybe if you stopped acting like a child, i would stop treating you like one," Sans snapped back, causing Frisk to roll her eyes at him and get off the bed. 


"Whatever!" Frisk blew him off with a snotty attitude as she put on her slippers.


Sans snorted. "yeah, that’s real mature, kid."


She gave him a snotty look and walked out the door. Sans could hear Papyrus’ yells greeting the kid from the kitchen.


And now Sans was pissed off. He didn't know if he wanted to strangle Monsterkid first or go straight to Toriel to tell on her teenage brat.


He took a deep breath when his alarm clock finally went off.  What a garbage start to a garbage day.




When he finally made it to work at the sentry station, his moved had not improved. It was 9:05. Frisk was probably out having breakfast with Monsterkid. She was probably out having breakfast with Monsterkid right now and Sans was stuck at his shitty job as a sentry where nothing interesting ever happened, save for the times they met.


He had gone up to Toriel's door so many times, but he kept hesitating when it was time to decide on a knock-knock joke. "Knock, knock - Wise - Wise your adoptive daughter such a complete bitch, Toriel?" hardly seemed like the appropriate joke to start a conversation with, but it was the only joke Sans felt like making right about now.


He had gone up to the door for what was probably the fifth time and was about to finally knock and whine to Toriel when suddenly a line of thought made him stop.


He was about to ask Frisk’s goat-mom for advice on how to handle Frisk again. Wasn’t this a little bit much like co-parenting?


He decided not to knock.


It was 9:25 now. He had been working for about 20 minutes. Pap's breakfast spaghetti had been predictably terrible. So what if Frisk was there; surely he could take a break and go have a real breakfast at Grillby's, right?


He suddenly felt like a huge bottle of syrup and maybe a stack of pancakes could solve all his problems. And if he saw Frisk with Monsterkid there, fine. He wasn’t going to make a scene. He didn’t even have to make his presence obvious. He could just… safely chaperone… from a distance. Make sure that the kids were okay. Mostly make sure fucking Monsterkid didn’t lay a hand on Frisk.


Sure, he could go to Grillby’s, even if Frisk was mad with him and was currently having a bit of a breakfast date. They didn’t own the restaurant. Sans had been the one who’d introduced Frisk to fucking Grillby’s, after all.


He left a note crumpled up into a ball at his sentry station—“out patROLLING”—and took a shortcut.

Chapter Text

 Grillby's was, by far, Sans' favorite restaurant.

It wasn't just because it was the closest restaurant to his house. Sans could quickly and easily go eat anywhere, anytime. He could just as easily go to Grillby’s as he could go to the fancy MTT Resort restaurant where he sometimes performed, or to the cozy and relatively unknown café inside the Temmie Village. There was just something about Grillby's that made him feel welcome and at ease. Perhaps it was the people who frequented Grillby's, because everyone knew him by now and greeted him warmly, or maybe because Grillby himself had become a close and respected friend who always has a bottle of ketchup ready for him. Or maybe it was just the food. All the delicious, delicious food.

Grillby's had the most delicious pancakes and the house syrup was to die for.

Yet when Sans entered the restaurant today and quickly spotted Frisk and the Monsterbrat, he wasn’t so sure he would be having a nice time. Frisk looked so happy with Monsterkid, chatting enthusiastically with him about what was probably some childish bullshit. Maybe some new toy or game or whatever. What did kids like nowadays, anyway? Whatever it was, it was probably not something Frisk could really care about.

That wasn't entirely true though, was it. She had absolutely beamed when Papyrus had come back home with that doll he'd found while out patrolling a few months back, hadn't she?

Sans rather disliked where his train of thought was going—that had been almost an entire year ago, anyway—and so he focused his attention on finding the unoccupied table furthest from Frisk's. It wasn't that he cared if they saw him, but he was really not in the mood to have Frisk thinking he was spying on them or anything.

He sat down at a corner table and then proceeded to almost jump up and shoot a Gaster Blaster when a stern voice greeted him from behind, scaring the bejesus out of him.

"Sans," Grillby said sternly. He looked entirely judgmental. "Don't you think this is getting a bit much?"

Sans was in no mood. He was so pissed about this entire situation. "it's called chaperoning, b."

The fire monster raised a fiery eyebrow at him. "You should really stop this nonsense. You are beginning to look like either a jealous lover or a helicopter parent, and frankly I'm not sure which one is worse."

Sans visibly sulked and quickly muttered under his breath, eyes shooting daggers at Monsterkid from across the restaurant. "what in the fuck is even a helicopter, we live underground for fucks sake."

Grillby's eyebrow raised further up and he withdrew the syrup. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

erm,” Sans looked up sheepishly at the bartender and forced a huge grin. "i said—thanks for the pancakes, b. you’re great.”

"I thought that's what I heard," Grillby said, setting down his tray of pancakes and syrup for Sans, and then he moved along to help the other customers.


Sans ate his breakfast very slowly. After all, he wasn't in a hurry. It was just a coincidence that Frisk and her friend didn't seem to be either. Monsterkid was taking it real slow with those waffles. So what if he didn't have any hands and had to do everything with his tail. He was probably just trying to prolong the time he spent in Frisk's company.

That little fucker.

The Monsterbrat said something to Frisk. Sans ate another spoonful of syrup with pancake as Frisk laughed so hard the sound reached his eardrums.

She hadn't laughed that hard with Sans in a long time.

Then Frisk pointed to herself and said something, and Monsterkid just looked at her with fucking adoration in his eyes, fucking pissing Sans off.

The brat was dead. He was so dead.

Finally, after what felt like ages, the little shit that was Monsterkid finished his food, somehow managing to not choke himself in the process. Sans bitterly guessed that must have been a huge accomplishment for a brat who probably still had his food chewed for him at home.

He briefly wondered how old Frisk was and tried to reassure himself that she was probably, at least, a lot older than Monsterkid. He didn't think hard about the numbers.

He was about to down the last of his syrup in one gulp and officially end the longest and worst meal he’d ever had when suddenly he saw Monsterkid say something nervously  and a deep blush forming on Frisk's face.

Sans' breath caught in his throat. Monsterkid must be confessing his feelings for Frisk.

He felt a powerful surge of jealousy and hatred and he very nearly summoned his bones, his Gaster Blasters, the works, his best attack, and forced the timeline to end right then and there before he let fucking Monsterkid have Frisk but then Frisk shook her head, eyes wide with a sort of shy surprise, and she was saying something rather fast and visibly uncomfortable.

Sans laughed so loudly, people around him started to stare. He didn’t have to eavesdrop to know that the Monsterbrat had been rejected.

Sans left a big tip for Grillby and "took a shortcut", taking the last of his syrup with him. His break was officially over.

After Grillby's, Sans went to the door and spent a good half hour just exchanging bad knock knock jokes with Toriel. They talked about Frisk, too, but the conversation was starting to steer into parenting advice and so he barely listened. Then he spent the rest of the morning and the better part of his afternoon prank calling Monsterkid, leaving thinly-veiled and childish insults on his voicemail when the brat stopped answering the phone.

It wasn’t the best of his work days but it was certainly not the worst.

Sans teleported himself to the lake the second he finished his shift at the hot dog stand. He was not surprised to hear Papyrus yelling when he arrived, but that did not make the situation any less amusing.


Even from a distance, Sans could see Frisk's shy yet frantic gestures as she tried to pacify his brother, who thoroughly ignored her.


Sans chuckled. He'd warned the kid, hadn't he?

"Papyrus, please, you have to be quiet if we want to catch fish," Sans heard Frisk say as he approached them. Sans chuckled. Frisk herself was half-laughing as well.

Pap saw Sans first. "BROTHER!! YOU MADE IT!!!"

Sans grinned and waved lazily as Frisk turned around, lightning fast, a deep blush forming on her cheeks when her gaze met his.

"hi, pap, frisk," Sans said, giving Frisk a particularly cocky grin. "i'd say it's nice to see you two, but i see you're already fishing for compliments."

Papyrus groaned and Frisk averted her gaze nervously. Sans chuckled and ruffled her hair playfully once he got close enough to them. "how was breakfast, kiddo?"


Sans snorted. "yeah, i guess so, pap. sorry, frisk. i didn't mean to make you feel so blue last night," he winked at her, fully aware that he was half-flirting, and he trailed a single finger down his own jawline. Frisk blushed so deeply that even Papyrus noticed.


A sharp twist of jealousy and Sans raised an eyebrow at her. "phone?"

"I was talking to mom," Frisk muttered begrudgingly, face still red and refusing to look at him. "About my friend"—her eyes narrowed and she briefly glared at Sans—" tattletale."

"oh," Sans said with mock guiltlessness, a huge shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "so did she approve of the wedding or are you going to have to elope?"

"It's none of your business!" Frisk exclaimed, blushing furiously and once again averting her gaze.

Papyrus was intrigued. "WILL YOU BE GETTING MARRIED, HUMAN?"

"No! Sans is just making things up because he's jealous!" Frisk snapped.

"JEALOUS?" Pap repeated, but Sans just scoffed.

"i am hardly jealous of you having a little friend, kid."

"What-ever!" she snapped at him, "Just stop telling mom about every little thing I do!"

"oy, kid, watch the attitude," Sans scolded her. "you know, you've been really pushing it with me today."

"Ground me, then," Frisk said sarcastically as she rolled her eyes. Papyrus' eye sockets widened.


And sans was so done bickering with Frisk. He pointedly focused exclusively on Papyrus. "you're right, pap. there's no point in arguing with children. so did you remember to put in real bait this time or are you using your pasta again?"

"MY GREAT PASTA IS BETTER THAN REAL BAIT, SANS!" Papyrus exclaimed, looking relieved once the tension eased even though Sans was now pointedly ignoring the human, who herself was quietly glaring at the lake from the place she had sat down a few feet away.

Sans forced out a chuckle and he pointed at a distance from them by the trees. "uh... then i hope you don't mind if i read over there while you fish. this might take you a while."


"yup," Sans said smugly, pulling out a big joke book from behind his back with magic. "i always carry one."


Sans laughed a real laugh this time. "i dunno, pap."

Then he sat down and began rereading a particularly interesting chapter about timespace from his favorite Quantum Mechanics textbook. Maybe he could keep working on his time machine later. He had given up on it ages ago, but it was sure sounding more appealing than dealing with Frisk right now.

He fell asleep reading and dreamt of Frisk.




Sans sat up, wide awake now thanks to the sound of Pap's screeching. He looked around wildly. "where's the kid?"


Sans barely listened as he hid his disappointment. So the kid wanted it like that, huh?

"you go ahead, pap. i'll get back home soon. thanks for waking me up."


Sans chuckled at that. It looked like he was doomed to yet another barely edible pasta dinner courtesy of Papyrus. He would have complained to Undyne by now about her crappy cooking lessons, but he had stopped caring so long ago.

Every talk he had with Undyne about her subpar cooking lessons would just end up being erased when the world eventually RESET. So why bother? There was no reason to care.

But now he was stuck with the prospect of having dinner without the kid for the first time in months, and he found the idea almost intolerable.

He had the depressing realization that he not only wanted the kid but also needed her. He had allowed whatever was left of his sanity to completely rely on this kid. Sans had grown to depend on her ever-changing presence to keep his RESETs, he so often worried about them— but at least with Frisk, the timelines would always be just a little bit different. As long as he had Frisk, there remained a possibility of change.

The strong pull he felt towards the kid told him that she was not at the Inn but hiding inside the cave behind the waterfall. He almost snorted. Absolutely no surprises there. And he wanted to go to her, to give into his pull, but he really thought it best to just give her space.

They were both still so pissed about the whole Monsterkid thing.

Taking one deep breath and hating his neediness, he took out his cell phone and texted the kid.

hey - Sans

i'll miss you tonight – Sans

And there was no reply, of course, but Sans didn't know what else to do. Toriel had given him all sorts of conflicting advice. She'd said that Frisk would probably need to be given plenty of space as she grew up, but also consistency and defined boundaries. She had discussed in length with him the benefits of—ugh, he really hadn't wanted to hear it—“authoritative parenting” over permissiveness, of positive reinforcement over physical punishment, of fostering independence with natural consequences over whatever the heck else it was she was talking about. And Sans had told her, more than once, "i'm not her dad, toriel", but Toriel was having none of it, would agree with him that he was not but then go on and on about how Frisk needed a parental figure in her life outside the ruins, how Frisk wouldn't be able to survive on her own without an adult with her to guide her, and in the end Sans had gotten pretty pissed—"why don't you just leave the ruins and do it yourself"—and he had felt pretty low and pretty guilty, because of course Toriel felt the responsibility to stay to help any other fallen children, and here he was fully capable of being the adult figure that Frisk supposedly needed but instead he insisted on acting like he was just Frisk's goofy friend simply because of how badly he wanted to fuck her.

And now he didn't know what to do, he had no clue, and it was getting pretty late and Frisk was still hiding by the waterfall. Would she catch a cold? What if a monster got to her? Undyne sometimes patrolled close to Snowdin at night; what if she got to her? And a part of him just wanted to go to the cave and hold Frisk and kiss her and love her, and the other part was horrified, because she had just spent an entire day displaying just how thoroughly immature and childish she still was, she had gotten on his every nerve, and he had been so close to just—

Spanking her

And then fucking her right then and there—

And he still felt the strong pull in his chest that told him to go to the waterfall just to be physically close to the goddamn kid.

He would never understand how or why it was that his magic had grown to be so attuned to her.

It seemed like the universe was still bent on playing him this one big, cruel joke.

And he couldn’t go back home while Frisk was still alone inside that stupid cave behind the waterfall, but he couldn’t exactly go there and force her out either, and so he stayed sitting by the lake for the longest time, just focusing on his weird connection to her and making sure she was okay.

He worried sick about her.

It got so late.

Papyrus called him five times, and each time he lied and said he would be right over, until in the end Pap called and told him that he was going to sleep without a bedtime story, and Sans felt guilt.

Then finally, when it was almost midnight, he felt—somehow—that Frisk had finally begun heading back into town.

And he couldn’t help himself. She was out in the open now and he was so worried, he took a shortcut to just out of sight from her and followed her.

He almost had a heart attack when a huge boulder almost made Frisk fall along the waterfall.

He felt something soar affectionately in his chest when Frisk took a moment to observe his sentry station.

And mostly he worried, he really worried, because it was almost pitch black outside and it had gotten so cold and sometimes he saw Frisk shiver but if she knew he was there, she might never forgive him. She was already so angry at him for some unknown reason and tibia honest, despite his worrying, so was he.

He felt a gigantic relief when Frisk finally entered the Inn and he teleported to his bed pretty much immediately. The emotional rollercoaster that Frisk had put him through today had left him so bone tired.

He was about to fall asleep when his phone beeped, and something in his chest momentarily perked up when he saw that it was Frisk.

Frisk – I miss you too

Frisk – Sorry about today

And he smiled because he loved this kid, he really did, and he wanted to stay mad but he forgave her pretty much instantly. And it was scary and it was wonderful the effect she could have on him when he had previously been so indifferent, he was completely under her control and there was nothing he could do. He was deeply, madly and irrevocably in love and he would wait for her a hundred years if it meant he got to have her in the end.

It was after midnight now but he still texted her.

wanna go to hotland tomorrow? – Sans

He knew she would be enthusiastic but still smiled when she quickly responded.

Frisk – YES!!! :D

Frisk – Omg. I love you.

Sans felt so much warm affection for her that his room went blue.

I love you too, Frisk. - Sans

Chapter Text

He dreamt of a timeline he rarely dreamt about. The timeline when he'd first met Frisk.

The kid looked so young. He'd forgotten how young she had been. She couldn't have been older than ten or eleven and Sans, while not the tallest monster, still towered over her.

She looked so weak. Completely unremarkable. He had been so unimpressed by her.

The dream changed and he was dreaming about that timeline again— the one where he'd given in and taken Frisk. The kid lay motionless on his bed and she looked so much more appealing, but not, Sans realized now, significantly older than when they had first met. It had been a year or two at mostperhaps three but he knew very well that last possibility wasn’t quite likely. And Sans was painfully aware now that he was about to defile a child, but he couldn't exactly change that particular timeline anyway and so he still forced himself inside of her and she still had felt so incredible.

He still really regretted that he hadn't kept going.

And then he killed her again in a wave of blue magic and the dream changed again, and this one was much more interesting.

He was dreaming of a timeline that had happened years ago, back when he was casually dating the innkeeper. It had been nothing serious—Sandy's husband had just left her and Sans had plenty of commitment issues thank-you-very-much-RESETs—and of course by "nothing serious" it meant basically just sex, which Sans had never minded. And he hadn't thought of Frisk then, hadn’t even known her back then, but of course in in the dream he did. Sans wished that Sandy was Frisk. He was pounding into her from behind, rough, just like he liked it, pulling Sandy's head back by her long bunny ears. And he had always sort of favored bunny monsters when it came to sex but this time he really wished that instead he were pulling on a fistful of short brown hair.

The dream changed again and it was a recollection of his current timeline this time. Frisk was panting softly, her face a lovely flush of pink, lips slightly parted as he let his magic send waves of pleasure down her spine. He was hearing her moan again.

"Ah— Sans—"

And he had been so close, had been so close to having her that time, perhaps in the dream he could keep going— Pin her to the bed and take her rough and hardPound the memory into her— She was probably so eager for him—

He really wanted to hear her scream his name. 

He was vaguely aware of his magic starting to act up as he slept. 

And then he suddenly felt a small corporeal body jump over him energetically and a pair of delicate hands wrap around him in a hug before Frisk’s voice yelled cheerfully above him.

"Wake up, sleepyhead!"

Sans was abruptly wide awake. His eye sockets shot wide open to find Frisk smiling on top of him and she had so startled him that he screamed.

A wave of anxious blue magic filled the room.

Breakfast that morning was a very awkward affair.

Frisk had quieted down significantly and was nervously playing with her breakfast spaghetti. Sans couldn't blame her, he was still pretty rattled himself. Meanwhile, Papyrus was just glaring at Sans. The taller skeleton wasn't quite sure what had happened between Sans and Frisk earlier, but he had heard Sans' shout and he had seen the flash of blue light coming out of Sans' bedroom before Frisk gave out a scream of her own and Papyrus was positively sure that whatever had happened was Sans’ fault, as if he'd lost control of his magic on purpose to scare the bejesus out of Frisk.

Sans hadn't. Not really. Frisk had startled the magic out of him.


"or you could have some of mine," Sans said casually with a smile and a wink, holding up the syrup bottle he had been drinking from.

Papyrus' eye sockets narrowed with frustration. "SANS, THAT IS DISGUSTING."

Sans just shrugged and took another swig of syrup.

"Um, no thanks, on the syrup... Thanks," Frisk said in her soft voice, nervously playing with her white t-shirt. Sans had never seen her wear it before. It fit… a bit more snugly than her baggy sweaters and the clothes she usually borrowed from him. He found that he could barely keep his eye sockets off of her. "Um… Sans? When are we leaving?"

Sans chuckled. "you sure are in a hurry today, kid."

"HUH?? WHERE ARE YOU TWO GOING?" Papyrus asked.

"hotland," Sans answered simply, his grin widening.


"i figured undyne’s lessons would be your top priority, bro," Sans said, winking at Frisk. He loved the shade of pink that tinted her cheeks.


"i know a shortcut," Sans said with a smug grin, not taking his eye sockets off Frisk, who was now shifting uncomfortably and rather adorably in her seat.

Sans' shit eating grin widened when he sent a soft flutter of blue magic up her arm while Papyrus wasn’t looking. She audibly gasped, blushing furiously.

He was so happy to have her with him again.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT, HUMAN?” Papyrus asked. Frisk, red as a tomato, quickly nodded and focused on her plate. Most of her breakfast was already gone. Sans felt pity that she had to eat it; Papyrus was still not the best cook. “I AM GLAD YOU ARE. AS I WAS SAYING… SANS! YOU AND YOUR SHORTCUTS! MAYBE SOMEDAY, YOU WILL KNOW THE TRUE VALUE OF A WALK!"

"i like walks. they’re better than running."


"because the fridge is already running, so what's the point of me running too?" He noticed with some satisfaction that Frisk chuckled at that.


Sans just shrugged.




His grin never left Sans. "to answer your question, kid: my shift over there starts at 11. how about we leave then?"

Frisk looked at him with disbelief. "You have a third job?"

"i have several jobs. how do you think i pay rent?"

"But... You're so lazy at all of them," Frisk protested. "Who keeps hiring you?"

Sans responded with a sincere laugh and took another swig of syrup straight from the bottle. He had already thrown away Pap's dreadful spaghetti at the first opportunity.


"so how is undyne doing, bro? i haven't seen her since the monday check-in," Sans asked Papyrus. "is she still losing her mind waiting for humans?"


"sure, let's ask the kid," Sans said with good humor. "hey, human kid, how do you feel about trying to become friends with a murderous fish?"

"Um— I'd rather not..."

Sans winked at her. "there you go, pap. no telling undyne about the human, per her request." Then he added, as an afterthought, "you know, kid, i'm actually surprised we've been able to hide you for this long. haven't we known you for over a year?"

"Um— It was November of 201X when I left the ruins, I think, so almost two years actually."

"whoa. time flies, huh?"

Frisk shrugged and kept playing with the little bit of spaghetti that was left on her plate.

"you know, we haven't thrown you a single birthday party. isn't that something you humans celebrate?"


Frisk laughed nervously. Despite Pap’s noisy flailing, Sans’ eye sockets were keenly trained on her. "I, um— I actually prefer not to celebrate any of my birthdays down here. Bad experience. The first one, I was still with Toriel and she made me a 'traditional snail cake'"—she gagged—"So it's coming up, but I'd rather not."

And Sans couldn't help himself and his morbid curiosity. He didn't want to know, he didn’t want to ask, and yet he did. "how old are you turning this year, kid?"

Frisk hesitated. He caught a certain pride in her voice when she answered. "Um… Fourteen. Next month, on the 3rd."

Sans froze. He felt his sins crawling on his back.

And he was suddenly so glad that Papyrus was there because his loud voice pretty much took all attention away from him.


"Okay, let's go," Frisk said suddenly, getting up and slinging her backpack over her shoulder before walking over to Sans. Sans, who at that moment felt incapable of doing anything other than sit there and stare at her. Horrified. "Let's go before he decides not to wait and feeds me snail cake."

Sans' mind was too numb. "...what?"

"Sans!" she grabbed his hand and tried to pull him up. The simple touch sent shivers down his spine and he felt guiltguilt

"Come on! I really want to see Hotland! I can't wait as long as you can. Please?"

And Papyrus was yelling something but Sans wasn't listening. His eye sockets were trained on Frisk and he was hyperaware of her soft hand touching his, the lovely way she was pouting, the plumpness of her lips, and he was feeling so much guilt and so much desire and he was feeling so weak

She wasn’t even fourteen.

And he was transfixed and he was guilty and he wanted her

He was vaguely aware that he was whispering. "kid... whatever you want."

And he took her hand and took them through a shortcut without even saying goodbye to Papyrus.

Hotland greeted them, unsurprisingly, with a wave of heat.

Frisk’s soft hand lingered in his for a brief moment as she took in their surroundings. "Oh my gosh. Hotland!!! But I didn't mean for you to just have us disappear! We didn't even say goodbye to—" Something clearly distracted her and the kid suddenly beamed from ear to ear. She was the happiest he’d even seen her. "Whoa! It's so hot in here!"

"it's always hot in hotland," Sans teased her, stating the obvious. Frisk looked amazed. To Sans, she looked amazing.

He had so much guilt.

"I haven't felt actual heat in so long," she sighed happily. "Snowdin is always so cold. I thought all of Underground would be like that."

"heh— no, kid. the weather changes down here depending on where you go. i've been told that waterfall has the nicest weather, but tibia honest, weather isn't something i notice a skele-ton," he winked.

Frisk rolled her eyes at his bad puns. "Well it feels like an oven to me in here," she told him enthusiastically. "I should have worn shorts."

Sans tried hard not to focus on how appealing the idea of Frisk in shorts sounded to him. His eye sockets wandered down to her legs.

She was so... tempting.

He really shouldn't have brought her here where she would be alone with him.

Her hands reached his and she pulled rather enthusiastically, eyes wide with wonder. She was looking at him again in that wonderful way of hers, that made him feel like she thought he was the moon and stars. "Aren't you going to show me around? Where does that elevator lead?"

Sans let his fingers intertwine with hers. "if you take that elevator, it will take you through hotland and into the core that powers the underground”—he paused and winked at her—“pretty boring stuff, huh?"

"No way! I wanna see!" Frisk said enthusiastically. "Please?"

"you'll run into guards if you wander too far from here, sweetheart," Sans told her, pulling Frisk closer to him and feeling his chest soar as a pink flush painted her cheeks. "i'm afraid you're stuck selling hot dogs with me unless you want to try out some puzzles. there isn't really much else for you to safely do here."

"We could have a picnic," Frisk suggested, making Sans laugh. 

"ha, i don't think a morning picnic eating hot dogs would be—"

"No!" Frisk laughed. "I brought us breakfast, silly. You really don't think you're the only one throwing away Papyrus’ breakfast spaghetti, do you?" Sans looked at Frisk with disbelief. Then he felt himself fall in love with the kid all over again when she winked at him and whispered, "I hide my pasta in a plastic bag inside my backpack."

"wow, kid. i cannoli believe you could pull that pasta my brother," he said, truly impressed. He’d never even noticed her doing that.

Frisk groaned at his bad puns but was still grinning at him. "You are the worst. Where should we eat?"


Sans gave it some thought before his own grin widened and he pulled her into a quick embrace. "i think i know just the place." And then he transported them into a scenic spot from which they could see the Core and the lava underneath.

Frisk gasped when she saw it. "What is that?"

"the core. weren't we just talking about it?" he teased her.

Frisk stuck her tongue out at him. The sliver of pink made Sans weak at the knees.

Weak, weak, weak...

"We should go there. Not today. But eventually," she told him as she took a blanket out of her backpack, two cinnamon bunnies and a bottle of syrup for him and a bottle of water for her. Sans was impressed, she had really thought this through. "I also brought you ketchup. I wasn't sure what you'd prefer."

She was amazing.

"kid, you’re perfect," Sans said in a playful tone. And his voice was light, but he meant it.

He loved the shy smile that graced her lips.

He lewdly wondered how widely those lips might stretch, if she might be able to accommodate his usual girth or if he'd have to, uh, adjust himself in order to successfully shove his dick down her throat.

The sudden thought both pleased and horrified him. Sans forced himself to look at the core and away from Frisk. The dreams from this morning had left him still feeling so, ah, tense.

This kid really shouldn’t be alone with him.


He tried hard to remember what they had been talking about. "anything specific you wanna see at the core?"

Frisk looked... determined. "King Asgore's castle is beyond the core, right?"

Sans nodded, but the lights in his eye sockets went slightly dim. He did not like where this seemed to be going.

"I have the seventh soul," Frisk said casually. Sans' eye sockets widened and were once again absolutely glued to her. "Don't give me that surprised look. I know you know. Flowey… the flower… told me.”


Sans refused to acknowledge or deny that fact. Of course he knew. The kid kept talking.


“Well, anyway… Sometimes at night I try to sleep and it's like there's this voice inside me telling me that I should go meet the king. That it will be alright. It's not... the bad voice. I’m not sure it’s my own voice, either. And I know you don't want me to...

"But if I can, I'd really like to help set all of you free."


He cut her line of thought then and there. "kid. i know i've told you asgore's a great guy, but... he'll kill you. that's how the entire process works. six humans are already dead. you are supposed to be the seventh. do you understand that?"


And suddenly Frisk looked… very serious. She wasn’t smiling at all anymore. And Sans really hated the way she looked at him, the knowing look. "I am aware. Flowey told me. He also told me that... you helped."


His breath caught in his throat and he was not sure if he would ever be able to breathe again. Every bone in his body felt like lead.


"Do you? I don't care about the king doing it, if it has to be done. But... 


"I am afraid... if it will be you."


"d'you even have any idea of what you are saying, kid?" Sans asked. His voice came out rough, and he hadn’t meant to sound as threatening as he had, but he felt so angry suddenly and so afraid.


Frisk wrapped her arms across herself and shivered slightly. Sans knew it wasn’t from the cold.


The kid took a deep breath. “We meet at the Judgment Hall. Over and over, in my nightmares. That’s not the only place we meet or the only things we do, but that room is the most prominent. And I know now, that they aren’t my memories… But I’ve still often wondered why I so often met you there. Why you were waiting. Then Flowey told me you were the executioner, and I—”


He found that he was unable to look at her as she kept going.


“I’m sorry. I feel like I should just ask you. Flowey has said a lot of awful things. I just… I don’t care what you’ve done. I… really like you. I know that sounds stupid and it probably is, but I can’t stop myself. It’s how I feel.

“And I guess I’m just saying that if you’re the one who’s going to take my soul in the end, you should really tell me. Because it would suck for us to end like that, again, if there is something I can do this time to prevent it. That, plus I really hate having to learn all of this from Flowey.”

Sans didn’t know what to say about that. He had no clue who this goddamn Flowey was, or how the flower knew so much about him. No one else, not even Papyrus, knew the role he had played for the King after he’d refused to be the next Royal Scientist.


His hands felt filthy with blood that had disappeared many timelines ago. He hadn’t been joking when he’d once told Frisk that King Asgore was a real pushover. He hadn’t been able to slay any more humans past the second child. That Sans could do it, and continue with his own research on human Determination on his own as he did so was—


Rather fortunate, he’d told himself. Told himself so many, many times.


He felt coated in a thick layer of blood and he felt briefly and irrationally afraid that Frisk could see it.


“i quit that part of the job a long time ago,” Sans heard himself tell the kid, and he was so glad he had met Toriel through the door, because if it weren’t for his promise to her he wouldn’t have quit until Frisk’s soul was in his hands, she was the very last soul they needed. “what i did to you, in those timelines… that was due to, uh, personal initiative. not at all work-related.”


He was excruciatingly aware of how Frisk was studying him, her posture rigid, body language sending all sorts of mixed signals into his brain. Her eyes never left him and she seemed stiff, and afraid, and determined and bold


But not even slightly judgmental...


“I’d like to hear you share more about that,” she told him. There was a certain quality to her voice that made her sound entirely soothing.


Sans just looked at her. Couldn’t get a single word out.

“I’d like to hear you share more about you, specifically,” Frisk elaborated. “Things about you from you and not from a flower. I’ve been starting to realize that I hardly know anything about you.”


She had, once again, left him completely dumbstruck. Who was this child?


“is… is this why you wanted us to leave so early, kid? so we’d have time to talk?”


Frisk gave him a shy smile. “Mostly I was just really impatient to see Hotland.”


Sans let out a small snort. She was so easy to be around, so calming and reassuring when she smiled at him like that. “you overly excitable child,” he muttered. “fine. i’ll tell you my story if afterwards you pinky-swear to tell me yours.”


Her eyes went wide as she enthusiastically nodded, shifting her position as she got more comfortable. Sans was keenly aware of how much she looked like a child ready for story time and he, for one, was feeling very unsure of what he should say.


He made a mental note to write on his lab notebook later about this damn gossiping flower. How much did it know?


How much had it shared?


He had the distinctly unnerving feeling that he was getting reacquainted with an old enemy. For the first time in a long time, Sans wondered if there were still any timelines that he did not remember.


“alright, kiddo, listen up,” Sans said, mustering what little courage he felt that he had. “this all happened a very long time ago, so hopefully you won’t hate me too much.”


He was keenly aware of the fact that he had Frisk’s complete attention. And despite his sins crawling on his back, he found that she was still looking at him as though he was the moon, and Sans—


He let his gaze drop temporarily to her inviting lips, and swallowed—


Sans felt sure that he would end up doing yet another thing that he could never forgive himself for.

Chapter Text

His pasts weren't anything he liked to think about.

They were all erased, anyway, with each and every RESET


and over

and  o v e r  again.

There was no reason for Sans to feel guilt over them. There was no reason for Sans to feel anything. Nothing mattered, in the end, and at first… that thought had nearly driven Sans mad… but now

Now, Sans welcomed it. Really.

He didn’t care if the world RESET.

That being said—guilt or not, RESETs or not—Sans really didn't appreciate being forced to tell the kid about all of his shit.


So he was brief. He edited. And he hated that goddamn flower as he quietly seethed.

There were some things the kid just didn’t have to know.


"my name is sans," he stated with a dumb grin, starting with the most obvious and basic fact in an effort to ease the tension. "sans the skeleton.


"i used to be a physicist, a long time ago," he told the kid, and he could tell by the look of surprise on Frisk's face that at least that much, she hadn't known. 


And Sans almost laughed, because the flower had gotten out of its way to tell Frisk Sans was a murderer, yet the thing had simultaneously been kind enough to neglect mentioning that Sans was also a nerd.

How “nice” of it.

He noticed with some surprise that Frisk looked... impressed by that bit of information, though.

Sans found that he liked that look on her face.

"i was a good one, too," Sans bragged.  Suddenly, he felt like bragging. And he could tell that he was being irrational, but Frisk was so rarely impressed by him anymore even though she really, really should be. "i was actually asked to be the next royal scientist, but the circumstances had been... less than desirable"—he remembered Gaster and their experiments on that stupid machine, Gaster's disappearance from time and space and every timeline, the things he’d seen, things the kid didn't have to know, so he neglected mentioning and continued—"so instead, i quit.


"i quit for many reasons. i won’t go over those reasons now.

“but, by the time i quit, things had pretty much fallen into chaos, back then—the royal children had both died—and gaster and i...


"the then royal scientist and i...


"we had started to notice all these little hiccups in the timespace continuum. timelines jumping. we’d thought we could use the jumps to our advantage. breaking the barrier without human souls had always been our main goal, back then. but it, uh, didn't work." Sans sighed. The kid didn't have to know the full details. He took a swig of syrup, but it tasted bitter. Everything tasted so bitter lately.

He looked at her. Thirteen.

Why was he even bothering to wait. What difference would fourteen or fifteen or even sixteen make, if he ever managed to wait that long. He could wait ten years to take this kid and she'd still be only...



Still a kid. Still a child. A child who was older and more capable of knowing what she was getting into, but still.

Just a naïve little child like she currently was.


And in the end, everything was going to RESET.


So why was he even bothering to try and do the decent thing.


"so i quit, but it was too late. the research we had discovered was already stuck in my skull. i am a curious skeleton, so after a while i started to continue the research on my own. that's when i started to become aware of the RESETs. i found them all over our data. and after a while, i didn't need the data. i could feel it. and then, i started actually remembering previous timelines.”

Suddenly he felt like throwing up at a rather nasty recollection. He suppressed it and kept going. None of it mattered.

"you can't even begin to understand how this all feels. being consciously aware of the's… maddening. i almost went mad after finding out. perhaps i did," he added bitterly.


He finished the bottle of syrup. It still tasted bitter, but it was better than nothing. Sans smiled when Frisk dug into her backpack as soon as he was done, passed him a second bottle. The kid was really something else.

He wanted her so, so badly.

Sans let his fingers touch hers for just a short second as he took the syrup bottle from her extended hand.

"thanks, kid. you really are the best." 

Another shy smile gracing her lips. Another lewd thought of feeling those same lips around his cock, of wanting to see Frisk on her knees, sucking him.


Another wave of self-disgust and guilt.

He shook the thought away.

"so anyway, as i had said earlier the royal children were dead. now, this might come as a surprise to you, but one of them was actually human. the king and queen adopted the very first human child that fell down here, isn't that hilarious? that was part of the reason why it was so important for us to figure out another way to break the barrier without using human souls. welp, after the two royal children died there was no need for that anymore. the king vowed to free us by taking the seven human souls we needed, no more mercy for the next fallen humans. he took two human souls and i'm still surprised by how quickly those kids fell down. is mt ebbott a popular hiking place now or something? you'll have to tell me all about it sometime," Sans joked, but Frisk wasn't smiling anymore.

He looked down at the syrup bottle, focusing his eye sockets away from her.


"so king asgore only took two of the souls. i took the other four. i didn’t have to, but he... the king... i wasn't joking before when i said he was a big fuzzy pushover. he wasn't taking the role of being a murderer very well. the queen had left him, too, and he was so depressed. i... i felt pretty bad for him. and i...


"i have to admit, kid, the world by then was just RESETting left and right. i could feel it constantly. it made me feel like nothing i did truly mattered, and i had so much rage in me because of it. and i... i wasn't exactly opposed to the idea of taking it out on some kids."


Frisk shivered, and it certainly wasn’t because of the cold. Sans already regretted telling her as much as he had.


He took a deep breath and continued.


"so i took four," he repeated, and he left out the feel of their blood on his hands, the way he still remembered the sickeningly loud CRUNCH of their bodies as he slammed them against the wall, against the ceiling, against the ground

He left out how much he’d thrown up immediately after he took the first soul and had cried, cried for days, hadn't even been able to look at Papyrus in the eye sockets afterwards, Papyrus who suspected nothing. He left out the despair he'd felt when, days later, the world RESET


—his first conscious memory of a previous timeline had happened when he looked at that damn first child for the second time and remembered how he’d already killed them before


—and he had to kill the same human child all over and over again, dozens of times, sometimes the world RESETting just for that single slaughter as if whatever was causing the RESETs was taunting him


He left out how each consecutive kill had become easier, how he had begun to just give in and enjoy it in the end, how he had intentionally prolonged the last death of the fourth human child,


how each of the attacks he'd used on Frisk and the not-so-Frisk at the Judgment Hall he'd invented and expanded upon in that same golden hall so many timelines ago.

Sans left out many things.


It was bad enough that she knew that he had taken four souls


Frisk didn't have to know he had grown to enjoy it. She didn’t have to know how often he wondered what was wrong with him. She didn’t have to know how uncertain he’d grown of himself, over time.  How he’d grown unsure of whether the constant RESETs were the cause his detachment and his sadistic cruelty, or had he had this darkness deep within himself this entire time?

They had fallen into a tense silence that Sans broke.

"i suppose you were meant to be my fifth and last," Sans told Frisk, and he took in the softness of her skin, the alluring brightness of her eyes, the lovely way her hair framed her face and everything that made her look so beautiful. He felt his warm affection for her seep into his every bone. "i"m, uh, glad you aren't."


She spoke so quietly he almost missed it. "It must have been awful," and that wonderful voice that left him weak.

She—this kid—still had more MERCY in her pinky finger than Sans could ever believe.

“I wish there was something I could do,” she added, and she sounded so sad for him and so hopeless that he just—

“’s not your problem, kid,” he told her, and he actually had to suppress a bitter laugh, because this kid was so naïve

So innocent. So kind.

And he bitterly felt like there was nothing he could do to ever deserve her.

Sans had so much blood and so much figurative slime on him and she was so pure that he might ruin her by touch, figuratively and

l i t e r a l l y .


And he so badly wanted to.


He had been so close to before, in this timeline.


Had already done so before, in that other timeline.

And all it would take was a few more hours alone with her in his room, just a little more boldness from him while he had her on his bed. A little bit more blue magic, more soft blue lines caressing her bare skin. She had been so aroused for him before, on his bed that one morning. Had been so ready and eager for him even if she didn’t know it, and all he’d really have had to do was to just—

Take the lead—

Move his magic lower and lower and pleasure her and tease her until she just couldn’t say no—

And if her goddamn phone hadn’t rung, he could have had her. If it hadn’t been for goddamn Monsterkid, he could have fucked her. But now here they were again—and they were alone once more

And all Sans had to do was just—

“It is my problem. You’re my best friend.” The kid’s voice snapped some sense into him.


This child should really not be alone with him.


Sans took a slow steadying breath and checked the clock on his phone. It was almost a quarter until eleven.

"you wanna go on a bit of a walk, kid?"

Despite the kid’s previous enthusiasm to the idea of exploring Hotland, she seemed unconvinced by his offer.


Sans forced out a grin. "you’re gonna make me late if we don’t get a move on. here, let me help you pack up." And he snapped his fingers so with a flash of blue magic everything was packed.

Frisk jumped up from the shock and yelped before pouting slightly. “You need to warn me before you do that!”

Sans chuckled and winked at her. "you have no idea how impressive that actually is," he said cockily, a smug grin firmly in place.


"Show off," she said accusingly, sticking her tongue out at him for the second time that morning. Sans’ breath caught in his throat. 


He wanted so badly to taste that lovely pink tongue with his own.


"um," he said dumbly as she stood up and stretched before slinging her backpack across her shoulder.


She raised an eyebrow at him and smirked. "What? Did you forget how to walk to the elevator?"


Sans snorted. "you underestimate me, kid. allow me to escort you." And then he shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets—he wouldn't touch her, he couldn’t touch her—and he extended his arm jokingly in a gentlemanly fashion.


Sweet Asgore, she took it—a cute blush painting her cheeks as she did so.


Her soft arm felt so lovely wrapped around his, even through the thick layer of his coat.


He was guiltily aware of how oblivious the kid was to what her touch did to him.


"this way, kiddo," he told her as he winked and nodded his head towards the path he knew led to the elevator.


She never let go of his arm. She never stopped staring with wonder at the Core and the lava.


He briefly and selfishly wondered what she would be willing to do for him in order for Sans to take her there.


He was such a revolting monster.


"This is so awesome," Frisk spoke after a few minutes, pulling Sans away from the bile that was his thoughts. "Thank you for bringing me here."


"'snow problem, kid," he told her.


The kid laughed. "This is hardly the weather for that sort of pun."


He squeezed the arm around hers a little tighter. "tibia honest, i wasn’t sure weather the temperature was right for a snow joke either."


"Sans!" Frisk laughed again. "Stop! You're such a goofball."


"i thought i was a skeleton," he winked at her. 


They reached the elevator and she gasped with excitement, causing Sans' grin to widen. The kid was so easy to please. 


She started pulling at his arm. "Let's go in! What floor are we taking? Oh my gosh, oh my gosh— I haven't used an elevator in years!"


"slow down, kiddo," Sans snorted. "d'you want to press the up button?"


Frisk let go of his arm and practically ran towards the elevator to push the button, causing Sans to laugh again.


He was definitely bringing her here again.


He was definitely going to reward her enthusiasm tonight.


He couldn't wait to hear her moaning his name again and touch her skin with his hands and his magic.


The elevator doors opened.


"second floor, please," Sans instructed, chuckling inwardly as the kid again scrambled to push the button.


"you are surprisingly eager today," Sans teased, and he hated the way he couldn't control he lascivious tint in his voice, but Frisk seemed oblivious.


She was so innocent.


Sans felt the destructive want to take that innocence away from her, to have her pinned under him, screaming his name as he took her—


He could have her begging for his cock if he only got a bit bolder—


The elevator whirred to life.


He so badly wanted to just fuck this kid.


Sans moved just a little further away from Frisk.


She really shouldn't be there alone with him.


"Wow," Frisk said, completely oblivious, smiling wide from ear to ear when the elevator stopped. "That was much more fun than I remembered."


The doors opened.


There was still no other monsters in sight.


Sans kept his hands deep inside his pockets as he grinned at her and winked. "did it lift your spirits?"


Frisk rolled her eyes. She was visibly trying not to smile. "Just take me to your hot dog stand, Comic Sans." 


He laughed at that. "my stand is right around the corner here. looks like we're just in time, too," he said, not even bothering to check the time.


Frisk did check the time. "It's five past eleven."


"like i said. right on time," Sans winked.


They made it to his stand and Sans heard with some satisfaction how Frisk started laughing next to him when she saw the snow on the roof.


"How did you do that?" she asked, incredulous. Sans gave her a smug grin.


"i have no idea what you're talking about," he winked.


He loved her laugh.


There weren't many customers around yet, but there were enough. He and the kid weren't completely alone anymore, and Sans let out a sigh of relief.


The kid was safe. Safe from him. Safe for now.


He still felt like he badly needed to be kept away from her.


"hey, kid. things don't get real busy until noon. you wanna keep going and explore a bit?"


Frisk looked at him, wide eyed and curious. "I thought you told me it wasn't safe?"


"it isn't, if you stray too far. but no one is actively looking for you and the two guards i mentioned don't really wander too far away from the core unless they need to. i think you'd be safe until a little bit after the first puzzle. how about you try that one for a while and then come back here?"


"Okay!" Frisk gave him an excited grin. Sans almost laughed. The kid really did like puzzles, like Papyrus had claimed.


"now, no cheating, kid," he told her in a joking manner. "don't call my brother for help at the first sign of trouble."


The kid rolled her eyes but grinned. "I won't.”


He quickly added a, "but, kiddo—you should contact me, at the first sign of trouble, y’ know?”


She gave him another warm smile as she waved goodbye at him. "Will do, Comic Sans." 


And just like that, she was gone. And just like that, it was like a pile of lead had been shoved down his throat and settled deep inside his chest.


Sans was so anxious, he so often worried—for her.


He wondered if this was Toriel's influence rubbing off on him.


He sold his first hot dog and joked around with the customer but it was like he was on autopilot. His mind and his magic were focused on Frisk.


He knew when she made it to the puzzle even before his phone beeped.


He checked it and laughed. Frisk had sent him a picture of herself, standing next to the puzzle with a goofy smile. The caption read "What a puzzling turn of events!" but the subtext clearly read


I'm safe and I'm here.


And Sans was so thankful that she’d thought of him.


He saved the picture. 


Work went by really slowly that day.

Chapter Text

They texted back and forth throughout his entire shift. He found that her texts were the only thing that soothed his anxiety, though he wouldn’t be so anxious if she weren’t out of sight.

It was mostly inane banter between them. Every so often, she would send a picture of herself doing something silly. (He’d save those pictures.)

Less often, she would text him something that would have made his heart skip a beat, had he had one.


(Frisk – This would be more fun if you were here.)


And he would mostly reply with bad jokes and silly puns, but every so often he’d cave in, too, and write something like—

i miss having you with me kiddo – Sans

And he knew he was being mostly appropriate, but he also knew that something about those texts was just a little bit wrong.

Just a little bit wrong but enough that he was sure he was making her heart flutter.


And Sans knew what he was doing. He knew how much she liked him.


He didn’t stop writing the texts, every so often, ever so carefully crafted.


And he hated himself, but he didn’t stop.


He wanted her willing and eager and in his bed tonight.




Then he noticed, about half an hour before his three-hour shift ended, that the kid had completed the puzzle and carried on. And he got so anxious and pissed. He had no clue if she’d be safe beyond that puzzle.


And shit, he'd told her to come back afterwards.


He'd told her.


Frisk knew about the guards patrolling the area and he couldn't fucking believe this kid. This was Frisk climbing that tree behind his back and subsequently breaking her neck all over again. This kid must really have a death wish, must really want Sans to be constantly on edge.


He lasted twenty minutes of feeling her presence move further and further away from him. Finally it was ten minutes until his shift was over and that was close enough. Not a lot of customers came at this time of day anyway.


He took a “shortcut” and went straight to her.


And he was seething, he was so livid, when he found the kid by the computerized safe that Sans himself had set up there as a prank long ago.


He was about to angrily say something when his focus shifted from her body to her face and he noticed the strange expression she was wearing.


The kid looked... determined.

Something about whatever it was she was doing felt off.


"did i forget to mention there are guards out here hunting for humans?" Sans asked casually, effectively startling the kid. He had been standing just a foot away from her.


"Sans!! Uh— I— Sorry!" she mumbled nervously, her gaze dropping to the ground as she wrapped her hands around her chest.


Sans took a deep breath. He couldn't blame the kid for being curious, no matter how much easier it would be to just be mad at her.

After all, he was starting to grow curious too.


He waved off her apology. "just try to listen to me better next time, kid. so… what exactly were you doing here?"


She looked confused for a moment before answering, half-laughing. "Um— I'm, uh, not sure? I saw the mouse and I..." An odd expression. Her laughter disappeared. Sans noticed it, engraved it into his mind.


He'd have to write about this in his lab notebook, as soon as he was away from the kid.


The word A n o m a L y  buzzed briefly in his skull.


“I don’t know,” Frisk repeated, voice softer this time, all trace of her silly laughter gone.


Sans didn’t push it. "you ready to go home, kid?"


The kid looked reluctant. She obviously didn’t want to leave. "Can I come back here again with you sometime?"

Sans hesitated. He shouldn’t ever be alone with this kid.

But nothing had happened this time, r i g h t ?

“whatever you want, kiddo,” he told her as he took her hand and pulled her towards him, wrapping his other arm around her waist.


They took a “shortcut”.




Papyrus had already returned from Undyne’s house by the time they came back and had started making even more pasta. Sans had never been more irked to see his brother, having transported himself and Frisk straight to the couch, the kid conveniently on his lap, one of his hands on her thigh and the other one pulling her close to him by her navel.

As soon as Papyrus entered the room, the kid jumped off of him.




“we just ran really fast, pap,” Sans said, winking at Frisk. She looked thoroughly embarrassed. Sans’ grin widened.


“Um— Sorry we left without saying goodbye, Papyrus,” Frisk mumbled shyly.

“NO REASON TO APOLOGIZE. I ASSUMED YOU DIDN’T WANT TO DISTRACT ME FROM MY IMPORTANT MEETING WITH UNDYNE,” Papyrus said so cheerfully that Sans felt a twinge of guilt. His brother was a much better and more forgiving person than he was.




Sans chuckled as the kid's eyes widened, her face lighting up with excitement. "Oh my gosh! It was awesome! I did a new puzzle. Wanna see the pictures?"




And just like that, he lost both of them to their nerdy enthusiasm, but that was just as well.


Sans had  i m p o r t a n t   t h i n g s   t o   d o.


"you two ketchup. speaking of ketchup, i'm going to grillby's," he said and walked into a “shortcut” through the front door.


In a flash, he went to Hotland again.


Specifically, he went to the place he and Frisk had just left. The place with the mouse and the computerized safe where he kid had looked so... Determined.


There appeared to be nothing unusual about this place but he still sketched it into his lab notebook. He sketched it down to the last detail, then painstakingly described the way the kid had looked, the things she'd said, how he had felt.


He felt somewhat guilty that he was still studying the Anomaly behind her back.


Sans could, he supposed, just ask her. But what if she lied? 


Sans was, by nature, distrusting. He was secretive.


After what happened to Gaster, he didn't really want to work with others again.


There was nobody around. Sans allowed himself to get lost in thought and carefully consider the possibilities. What could the kid have been doing here that required so much determination?


Was she aware of it and consciously doing it, whatever it was, or—?


A voice interrupted his thoughts, causing Sans to jump up, startled, before his eye flashed a bright blue. "If you killed her off again, you could see where she RESETs."


The unexpected voice was coming from everywhere and nowhere. It sounded cruel yet artificially friendly, and it sent shivers of an old hate down San’s spine. He looked around but saw nobody. That voice—


That was the same voice he had heard talking to Frisk.


"Ha. You think I'd be stupid enough to let you see me? I don't, as a general rule, approach mass murderers. I'm making an exception for you, trashbag, so listen up.”

Sans clenched his fists and looked around. There were no signs of life that he could see.


The voice continued. "You were wondering if she was SAVING here, weren't you? I've seen that expression on your stupid face before. You were going to kill her again anyway, you coward, so you might as well remember now to make note of where she RESETs."


"and why should i listen to you?" Sans snarled, pissed. Flares of his barely repressed blue magic crackled around him. He didn't like this voice—this goddamn flower—whatever it was. Once again he felt like there were holes in his memory, like there were timelines he had forgotten even as his hate for Flowey remained. 

He felt like the flower remembered him.


Flowey laughed. "Why should you? Ha!! You're going to! You can't help it, can you? You've always been such selfish trash. You'll stop at nothing to figure out a way to stop the RESETs, won't you? And tell me...


"Isn't it weird how the timelines now only RESET when she dies?"—the voice laughed—"It's almost as if the RESETs are all her fault!"


Sans froze. He would be lying if he claimed that it was a possibility he hadn’t considered.

"what are you getting out of all of this?"


The voice laughed again. "I just want to make the GAME more interesting!


"Besides, I've seen the dumb way she looks at you. The adoration in that idiot's eyes. I'd like to see how far you can go before she hates you. Don't you?"


Sans’ breath caught in his throat. He felt his sins crawling on his back.


"You're going to do it anyway, you sick pile of trash. Do me a favor and don't blame me when you do."


He heard the loud clang of armored footsteps in the distance and knew at once that the flower had gone. Two royal guards approached him. 


"Dude, like... is that Sans?"


"It totally is, dude! Yo! Sans!"


Sans fixed a grin on his face and he waved even as his mind was racing a hundred thoughts a minute. Frisk had been here. Frisk had SAVED? Only one way to find out— But that's exactly what the flower wanted—


"hey guys,” he heard himself say. He hoped is voice didn’t really sound as artificially cheerful as it felt to him. “found any humans lately?"


If the human could force the RESETs and SAVE points, and he had access to the human— perhaps he could force a stop to the RESETs.


"No, dude, like... There's none here," he heard the first guard say.


"Can you talk Undyne into giving us a break like you did last time?" said the second one.


Sans forced out a laugh even as he wished the guards just left him alone. "i think that kind of influence only works once on her."


He remembered his promise to Toriel. Sans had promised to protect the human. He'd already broken that promise more than once though, hadn't he?


"Aw man."




"believe me, i feel ya," Sans said with his fake grin. "welp, i better get back to snowdin before papyrus burns down the town with one of his puzzles, you know?"


The guards laughed. "Yeah, man. Totally."


"See ya later, dude."


Sans slowly walked away. 


Sans waited until he was out of sight so he could take a “shortcut”. His mind felt numb.


Sans waited a long time even after everyone else left.




He was a mess by the time he finally managed to make himself teleport back to Snowdin. The snow felt cool against his bones and his breath came out in small puffs of smoke.


He was a skeleton. The cold or the heat didn't bother him; that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the brisk cool air against his bones.


He didn't feel like going back home and he didn't feel like going to Grillby's. Frisk was still home, probably with Papyrus, and Sans didn't think that he could deal with either of them right now. So instead he walked away from Snowdin and into the forest that he often patrolled as a sentry.


The forest where he’d met Frisk.


According to the flower, the kid had SAVED. And it seemed like, by the looks of it, she could do it—at least sort of—intentionally. But Sans didn't know and Sans wasn't sure.


The flower could have lied. That seemed very likely. Yet the sheer Determination on the kid’s face…


There was only one way to find out.


Sans felt yet again that twisted feeling that she was meant to be killed by his hand more than any other's. It made him feel sick.


It made him feel guilty.


It made him feel angry.


Her blood still felt fresh on his hands from all those other timelines.


And he still, repulsively, just wanted to fuck her—even as he contemplated the pros and cons of her death.


He was sure that if he did end up killing her, he'd be unable to do so without taking full advantage of the opportunity. He’d end up stuffing his cock into her again. There was no way he could resist doing it.


He couldn't deny that the idea strongly appealed to him. The realization left him feeling dirty.


He moved on. He detached himself. If the timeline was about to end by his hand, it wouldn’t matter what he did before it ended. He was the only one who would remember, anyway.


That wasn’t true, though. The kid could subconsciously remember timelines; they showed up in her dreams and she knew this, knew this now because of him. She would remember.


But he could make her believe it was a legitimate nightmare.


She hadn’t once mentioned the time he’d forced his dick into her.


And she so worshipped him, so trusted him—


He remembered the way her eyes looked at him as if he were the moon.


And Sans so, so badly wanted to take advantage of that.


He wanted to feel the kid under him, hands firmly pinned above her head. He wanted to hear her screams of pain or pleasure as he thrust into her. And he so badly wanted to feel her cunt around his cock again— she had been so warm and tight and had felt absolutely incredible


He remembered how addicting it felt to be inside of her. How intensely he still regretted that he hadn’t just kept going. And wouldn’t it be sweet, wouldn’t it be fantastic, if he went long enough that he could finish inside her in this timeline—


That is, if he murdered her.


He still hadn’t decided if he was going to kill the kid.


He still hadn't gotten her to tell him how or why she even fell from the surface. He still hadn’t given her the chance to tell the truth or lie.


So he could mistrust her and fuck her yes or yes and then kill her and gain more information about the RESETs. Or he could trust her and only maybe fuck her like he had been hoping to do and possibly still screw her up, and possibly learn nothing about the RESETs.


The fact that Sans had a clear winning scenario didn’t leave him feeling any less angry or bitter. He felt like his hand was forced because of course he would fucking do what he had to, of course he would choose the fucking option that most benefited him. He was selfish, weak and horrible, and why wouldn’t he be?


If this timeline was about to be over, nothing mattered. Nothing he ever fucking did mattered. Everything was going to be RESET and so what if he fucked the kid this fucking once before he killed her, so what if he enjoyed himself before she died.


And it wasn’t as if Sans was previously any less of a literal and figurative monster. He had already fucking killed four other children many many times, had tortured them, had tortured Frisk and the not-so-Frisk and he felt completely unremorseful.


No remorse that he’d taken those four souls. No remorse that he had killed the not-Frisk. No remorse that he’d—


He did hate himself for killing Frisk.


—But it didn’t matter, did n ’t m a tt er


He'd already murdered Frisk more times than he could count. It would be ridiculous for him not to do it again just this once and take full advantage. Fuck whatever the flower got out of it. He would do whatever it took to get rid of the RESETs.


Frisk couldn't possibly understand how this all felt. Even if she vaguely remembered the timelines. Perhaps the next timeline would be the one where she'd finally remember everything, and she'd understand why Sans was so messed up, because he was so fucking messed up.


He so badly wanted to end the time loops once and for all and he so badly wanted to fucking


Pin Frisk to the ground—


Force his cock into her—


Pound the goddamn memories into that fucking kid who had so often looked like she remembered him from before, like she was the only one who could possibly understand him, yet clearly did not.


And if he couldn’t deserve the kid, he would have her this once.

It was getting darker out now. His mind was made up.


His phone trembled slightly on his hand.


Had the entire forest always been this blue or was that his magic?


He didn’t even know anymore. He didn’t care.


He was alone but he wouldn’t be for long.


She picked up on the fourth ring. There was laughter still on her voice as she answered.


Her wonderful fucking voice.


“Hi, Sans! We’ve been waiting for you! Papyrus made—ha ha ha!—he made the best ravioli without any filling or anything. It’s—hah!—it’s really good—”




More laughter from Frisk. It felt like a knife stabbing through his chest.


He ignored it. He ignored it. It didn’t matter, didn’t matter


He was going to be selfish just this fucking once because he wanted to be, and so what?


He didn’t love her deeply enough to be selfless, and so fucking what?


It all got erased. Just blips in the timespace. No one would remember, but him, and he didn’t care. “hey, kiddo, that sounds great,” he said over the phone, and he was surprised by how friendly and smooth and normal his voice sounded, even as the phone shook, even as the forest stayed blue. “i don’t think i’m gonna be there to eat it while it’s still warm, could you ask pap to leave some for me in the fridge? something, uh, came up.”


“Oh no! What’s up?” she asked him with a hint of worry. “Are you alright? Anything I can do to help?”


He had to try hard to control his laughter. She was so good, so innocent


Too wonderful, too perfect, for him—


He wanted to see how far he cou l d  g o  b e f  o  r  e   s h e   h   a   t   e   d   h i m .


“everything’s fine, kiddo. but d’you think we can meet at your hiding place, after pap falls asleep?”


“You mean behind the waterfall?” she whispered, and he could tell by the sound or perhaps by his twisted fucking connection to her that she was walking away from Papyrus and someplace more private. “You mean you won’t be back to read Papyrus his bedtime story?”


“it’ll be fine,” he soothed her. “i’ll read him one next time, heh.”


There was a pause on her end and he irrationally thought that he had screwed things up with his little joke. When she did speak, her voice was quiet. There was a hint of concern in it that Sans chose to ignore. “Are you sure you’re alright?”


“yeah—hah—i just miss you, is all,” he said, stifling another laugh. “sorry. d’you think you can come quick? pap’s bedtime is usually in like half an hour. if you could maybe hurry after he’s asleep—i just really wanna talk to you.”


“Sure,” she said, voice soothing. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”


“thanks, kid. i’ll be waiting for you,” he said, and then—because he felt like it, because he felt it, because it didn’t matter, anyway, once the timeline got erased—he added, “i love you.”


He heard her breath catch in her throat as he hung up.


And then he transported himself to the cave behind the waterfall and waited.

Chapter Text

His own voice rang in his ears as he waited for her.

i love you

i love you

How pathetic. How untrue. He didn't love her.

Not enough.

Sans briefly wondered if he had lost the ability to love anyone enough to be selfless.

He wondered if maybe he'd always lacked that ability all along.

Sans took a deep breath and tried to focus, his hand idly playing with a flame of blue magic as he waited. There were so many things he ought to ask the kid, before he took her. Why had she climbed Mt Ebott? Once she fell down, did she notice anything strange that would give a reason as to the RESETs? He wanted more details about her influence on the RESETs, about the SAVE points and about that fucking flower. Above all, he wanted to thoroughly learn about anything that could explain why and what it was that made her the Anomaly.

Maybe she would even tell the truth, if Sans asked. She was, after all, so good, so kind. She wouldn't lie, not to him—not about this—would she?

A sick and nauseating panic in his chest told him that he still had time to change his mind but he thoroughly snuffed it. There would always be time, in plenty of other timelines, to do the right thing. Right now, he needed this.

Right now, he wanted this.

And there would be no interruptions this time. No phone calls from fucking Monsterkid or a sudden appearance from his brother. No more—fucking cockblocking Monsterkid

He had completely forgotten about that brat. Sans checked the time on his phone. He'd just now remembered fucking Monsterkid and he wondered if he had enough time to pay him a visit before the kid got here?

He was probably still at the Core, though. Was he going to stay there for three days? Sans really didn't feel like hunting down the brat, no matter how territorial he still felt. Thoroughly fucking the girl he had tried to steal away from him would probably be satisfaction enough.

There would always be other timelines for him to take care of Monsterkid.

But in this one, he was going to fuck the living daylights out of Frisk.

Sans checked the time again. Five minutes until eight. If Frisk was kind enough, which she was, she would probably begin to read Papyrus a bedtime story soon. And it took Pap a little over ten minutes to fall asleep.

Then she'd have to walk all the way over to here and so he had—

Roughly half an hour, give or take. He still had time. He could reconsider, do the right thing,

Or he could justify himself, talk himself further into it, tell himself he was worthless anyway and what he did wouldn't matter when the timeline RESET and so why not enjoy it? Why not give in? Why not just finally take the kid who probably so badly wanted it?

She had been so aroused by his magic before in this timeline.

She had kissed him back, in that other timeline.

And she told him she loved him and she was just a kid, of course she didn't know what she was talking about. But kids turned into adults eventually and he was an adult, and if she loved him—

And he needed this

Why not just take her innocence now and force the adulthood into her?

She would want this, if she knew what was good for her.

She would beg him for it, and she had no choice. He was going to have her either way.

He was going to have her screaming and begging for more whether she wanted to or not.

But about those questions he wanted to ask the Anomaly—

There was so much about the kid's life that Sans didn't know and probably needed to learn about before the kid died. Whether the kid had always been capable of RESETs, even above ground, was one fact he was particularly dying to find out.

He would be so fucking pissed if that were the case.

And he tried to do the math and was almost sure that the RESETs had been occurring for longer than 13 years, but he couldn't quite make it out for certain. All his pasts so often ended up blurring together into an unnaturally long linear line. Monster brains weren't meant to think of timespace as a multidimensional thing. It was yet another reason why Sans hated thinking about his pasts, all those different timelines. His mind could never quite completely grasp it.


And his hands still felt dirty with human blood and the screams still rang in his ears if he let them.

Sans felt the kid leave his house and he felt sickened with himself.

He really was trash, was worse than trash, for luring her to her death like this.

Guilt pooled deep within his bones as he realized that the kid was moving fast enough toward him that she was probably running. He forced the guilt away. It wouldn't matter, it couldn't matter, once the timeline RESET.

She was there within minutes. Sans heard the rustle of the opening pink umbrella she kept hidden by the waterfall and saw her silhouette before he saw her come in. And Sans had thought that he was ready, had thought he had detached himself enough from the sick affection he felt for the Anomaly and the need to protect her even as he wanted her destroyed and impaled on his cock. He'd thought he was ready to manipulate her and to use her and then

And then she came in, breaths ragged and her face red from the cold and her urgency to get there. Her eyes were wide with concern and with worry and fear as she looked at him and took a moment to catch her breath, holding her umbrella against her neck because her hands were too full because she was carrying

Not one nor two but three full bottles of ketchup for him.

And all the questions he had for her died in his throat.

All the self-disgust and the guilt and the self-hate he had blocked came rushing back.

And he didn't know what he was doing as his resolve fought against his self-hate and his doubt but he had lost his self-control so he went up to her and kissed her.

He didn't care in the slightest when he heard the ketchup bottles and the umbrella fall to the ground. And then she kissed him back, her small hands pulling him towards her by the front if his coat, her soft lips feeling deliriously satisfying against the soft flutters of his blue magic that he buzzed against her mouth.

"i love you," he whispered against her lips in between kisses, and he was only vaguely aware of how he was slowly guiding her backwards until her back was against the wall, was barely conscious of the fact that his hands were now gripping her wrists and pinning them against the hard rock behind her.

He found that her hands were trembling.

Her entire body was trembling slightly even as he kissed her, even as she kissed him back. And he had a nasty realization and wondered if the flower had gone to her to tell on him after it had riled him up?

Would the kid really come running to him even if she knew what might happen to her in the end?

He quelled the questions that buzzed in his brain because

He couldn't hold back anymore. This was his only chance.

No one else was nearby but them.

"god, kid. i’m sorry," he heard himself say and Frisk froze. His mouth travelled from her lips to her cheek and then her neck and he conjured up a blue tongue there so he could lick her smooth skin and then she shivered. "i am so, so sorry. i promise you'll enjoy this, ok?"

Her voice came out pleading and he didn't like it. "Sans— you don't have to— ah—" He silenced her with a wave of blue magic as he let go if her wrists and shoved his hand under her shirt and up her back and willed his magic to feel so pleasurable to her that she couldn't help but let out a loud moan. The sound came out frantic.

She had probably never felt quite this way before.

"i want to show you how good i can make you feel," he whispered against her neck, his voice getting dark and husky as he sent another wave of pleasure down her spine. She was holding on to him now, her body effectively pinned by his own against the rough cave wall. It wouldn't be long now before he was pinning her to the ground instead.

"you'll like this. i promise," he told her as he licked the side of her neck, forcing Frisk to gasp.

"Sans— wait—" she pleaded, but the words only steadied his resolve.

"i'm tired of waiting," he told her with frustration as his hands explored the skin of her torso and he started riding her sweater up as well as her shirt underneath. He found that he loved the smooth feel of her skin, so unlike anything he was used to. His mouth travelled up her neck and he gently bit her earlobe before whispering, "you have no idea how long i've wanted to do this to you. it's felt like years."

She let out another embarrassed moan as he sent a wave of magic up her torso. Sans grinned wildly. Every sound that left her lips felt like a victory. “i swear this doesn’t mean that i don’t love you, kiddo,” he told her as he started pulling up her shirt and her sweater before giving up and just having the layers of clothing disappear. Frisk’s hands left his coat then and when he saw she was about to cover herself he pinned her hands against the wall again. “i do love you. i really do. I just—

god i am so selfish. you have no idea, kid. i’m sorry,” he repeated, and he didn’t sound sorry at all. He couldn’t afford to feel sorry then, not with his body firmly pressed against Frisk’s and the feel of her breasts against his ribs through the thick layer of his coat. She had gotten taller since he’d first met her, but he still had a few inches on her height.

He and Toriel had often worried together about the possibility that she wasn’t growing very well due to the lack of sun, but her breasts sure looked like she was growing nicely enough.

He moved her arms above her head and pinned them there with one hand so that he could gently knead one of her breasts with the other. Her face was a deep shade of scarlet now, her expression one of deep mortification and


He had her.

He chuckled darkly against her ear when he noticed she wasn’t struggling anymore and licked her earlobe as he shoved a hand that was glowing with magic down the side of her pants. She moaned when the magic reached her hips. “d’you remember the first time we fucked, kid?”

An anxious gasp and she was struggling again. He pressed his body even more firmly against hers and let himself enjoy the sensation, bucking his hips against her slightly. No blue cock yet.

“Um— No— I don’t— Sans, please, please—”

He laughed at that. “you can’t honestly want me to stop. isn’t this what you’ve been wanting? you must at least dream of it. i know i do.”

He moved the hand he’d shoved down her pants to the front and almost let out a breath of relief when his fingers found what must be her clit. He hadn’t been entirely sure that humans had those. But this, he knew how to handle.

Frisk gasped again and he could barely distinguish her soft moans and whispers from her sobbing. Why was she making such a big deal about this? It was all going to be RESET anyway.

“just give up and enjoy it,” he told her and he let go of her wrists so he could unbutton the front of her pants. She made a weak attempt to push him away. The attempt was so pathetic that Sans chuckled again. “c’mon, kid. you know you want this. let me do this for you. i’ve been dying to hear you scream my name.”

“I can’t— this feels wrong,” she muttered shyly, hands again gripping the front of his coat as she pressed her naked torso and her face against the front of his coat. He shoved his hand down her panties and she gasped at the sudden direct contact when he leaned down to bite her earlobe again and began rubbing lazy circles against her clit. Her hips moved ever so slightly into his hand and he suddenly felt the need to—

Pin her to the ground.

Tear off her pants.

Finally shove his cock into her.

He stopped moving until the feeling passed and instead he focused on talking to her as he idly played with her clit.

“you’re such an innocent child,” he told her, voice slightly condescending even as it was still hoarse with lust. “i love you. there’s nothing to be ashamed of. i just want to show you how much i care, frisk. just let me do this, i know you’ll love it.” He shoved a single finger into her and she groaned. He felt a sick satisfaction at how slick and tight she felt around his finger. “you’re already so wet for me. that’s a good thing,” he said, and he pressed another kiss against her neck before continuing.

“it means you want it,” he murmured into her ear as he slowly pumped his finger into her and kept stroking her clit with his thumb. He knew the moment she finally gave in when her body relaxed and her breathing got heavy.

She was his to do as he pleased and he felt victorious and afraid.

There was so much wrong with what he was doing.

He still wasn’t entirely sure she didn’t know that he would kill her in the end.

He refused to even consider that and instead enjoyed the sensation of his finger pumping inside of her, the lovely way her moans and whimpers stroked his ego, the feel of her soft warm body pressed against his.

He could really screw this up, now, he thought irrationally.

Then he let out a cynical laugh as he realized how ridiculous that particular worry had been. He had already screwed this up by shoving his finger up the kid’s cunt.

“Sans?” her voice was shy and so small.

He kissed the side of her neck. “i love you,” he whispered. “on the floor now, i think.”

In a flash he was on top of her, kid on her back and lying on the cold hard floor. She let out a sharp cry and winced, and Sans momentarily regretted not taking her to his bed instead.

Like he’d done the last time.

Sans didn’t want to risk a repeat of the last time, though. He wanted this to last. He wanted Frisk to enjoy it.

There was a flash of blue as the magic in his eye came to life and suddenly Frisk shrieked when she felt a foreign shape pushing against her.

And it was almost like she had remembered because she was suddenly frantically trying to move her hips away from his cock and then he felt the strong urge to just slam it into her, pin her to the floor by the neck, make her beg for air as hard as she pleaded for his cock—

Sans’ breath caught in his throat and he quickly enveloped her in a wave of blue magic, forcing the kid still by a sudden increase in gravity. “don’t,” he growled harshly, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to summon his self-control. “don’t fight it. i— i like that a bit too much,” he warned her and it was like she understood the consequences he was implying because suddenly she went deathly still.

He rewarded her with a soft kiss on her neck. “the first time we did this, it hurt,” he admitted, and he neglected to mention how he’d forced himself into her, how impatient he’d been. “i— your body’s probably remembering that. we’re going to go slower this time. if it hurts too much, you can tell me and i’ll stop. i can go back to using my hand on you. i— i don’t mind. but don’t struggle. i won’t be able to stop if you do. i usually like… being rough. do you understand that, kid?”

She nodded once but remained silent and whether it was due to shyness or fear Sans didn’t know and couldn’t bring himself to care. Her hands shot up to grab the front of his coat again as soon as his magic let go of her. He tried hard not to feel guilt at how desperately he clung to him even as he started pushing into her.

He felt the familiar barrier and maybe he pushed too hard because Frisk let out a sharp cry and he pulled back pretty much immediately. “sorry,” he muttered, showering Frisk’s neck in a flutter of small kisses. “are you alright?”

Frisk nodded again, face pressed to his chest and Sans—

Sans felt amazing. He couldn’t deny it. Something about feeling Frisk’s warmth once again around the tip of his cock just made him feel all sorts of incredible. And he wanted to go deeper this time, he wanted to thoroughly enjoy it, but he remembered that first time when Frisk had cried and he had stopped and he—

“kid— do you want this? we don’t have to keep going.”

There was a long quiet pause during which he regretted saying anything. Even if Frisk said no, he wasn’t sure that he could stop. He should have just taken her like he’d originally wanted, hard and fast and without mercy, and they would have been done by now, and she would be dead, and he wouldn’t be having all these second thoughts that were making him feel like such trash.

When the kid finally answered, her voice was deathly soft. ”It’s not like it will really matter for long, will it?”

His bones froze as he remained motionless on top of her and he suddenly felt like throwing up.

She knew.

She knew that he was going to kill her.

She knew that he was planning to RESET the timeline.

He almost rolled off of her and showered her with sorrys but some sick part of him kept him in place.

He was brutally honest with her, for once in his life. “no, i— i guess it won’t.”

There was another moment of silence in which he tried to control his anxiety and his increasingly erratic breathing and he could swear that the front of his coat was getting damp at the spot where Frisk was hiding her face.

And he was still aroused and he felt worthless and sick. And he didn’t know how the disgusting words even came out of his mouth, but they did. “if you don’t mind, i— i’d like to keep going. i still want this. i still..”

‘I love you’ felt cheap coming out of him and so he didn’t dare say it.

Frisk did, hands still firmly gripping his coat toward her, and he still didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry or to just throw up at how cruel and messed up the entire situation was. “I still love you, too,” she told him. Her voice sounded strained.

She gave a sharp cry as Sans quickly and forcefully slammed his length into her.

“i’m sorry,” he said between thrusts, alternating between hard and fast and soft and slow as he tried to make up his mind as to whether it would be best for him to hurry it up or help her enjoy it. He heard the occasional moan escape Frisk’s lips, and in the end he was going rather hard as he simultaneously stroked her clit, and he could tell she was enjoying it but it no longer felt like a victory. “i’m sorry,” he repeated a few more times as Frisk clung to him, and she was pinned under him and he felt so guilty but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. She felt like a vice around him and it felt amazing and unbelievably good to have her wrapped around his cock once more, he couldn’t have enough of her, even though he badly wished he could stop. “i love you, i really do love you, kid. i just—fuckFrisk!”

He started pumping faster into her as she came, screaming, her walls convulsing around his cock, and he couldn’t help but give into the sensation even as he bitterly noticed how similar the pleasure he felt was to literally any other time he’d had sex, he could have had anyone else and gotten off the same way

And instead he chose to ruin her.

He came inside of her with a wave of guilt and self-disgust and he hoped the timelines kept RESETting forever, he hoped he lived through enough loops that he would forget this one disgusting choice, he wished that the kid hated him, that she left him for good

That she refused to ever see him again because Sans was truly the worst

When he rolled off of her, the front of his coat was damp. Frisk’s eyes were puffy, slightly glassy and red. Her breath was as uneven as his and her cheeks were flushed, and he had done this enough times that he knew that he had satisfied her but at the same time she looked—



And just so, so defeated and he felt like the scum of the Earth.

He looked at her for a long moment before he found the courage to gently stroke her cheek with a guilty hand.

“i really do love you, you know,” he whispered. He was so afraid.

Her gaze was fixed to the rocky ceiling of the cave but she whispered, “Me too.”

Sans breathed out a sigh of relief. “i wish our circumstances were different.”

Frisk barely nodded. “Me too.”

“i’ll see you in the next timeline, kiddo,” he said and he gave her one last chaste kiss on her lovely pink lips. Frisk shut her eyes.

She braced herself.

“i love you,” he breathed out, and he forced himself not to avert his gaze or close his eyes because he couldn’t afford to miss the target.

A sharp bone pierced clean through the kid’s heart.

And Sans was suddenly standing in Hotland and he was seething, he was so livid, when he found the kid by the computerized safe that he himself had set up as a prank long ago.

Chapter Text

Sans was livid, he was so pissed. He’d told the kid to come back to him after she got done with the puzzle, he’d told her there were guards nearby looking for humans and—

And then something unexpected yet familiar happened.

It was painfully uncomfortable to have memories from a separate timeline force themselves into his consciousness after every RESET. Sans gritted his teeth and waited, still feeling anger, still feeling worry, still feeling the lust and the possessiveness over Frisk he'd felt that afternoon at Hotland. His own mind felt as if it was being sawed in two so that a different mind could fit.


New memories entered his skull in a way that felt excruciating and unnatural. New feelings of  guilt, so much guilt, sadness, hopelessness and self-disgustHe hated himself. His chest hurt with an array of guilty emotions. He loved FriskHe'd killed Frisk.

He’d snapped and he’d fucked Frisk and he wasn’t entirely sure she had wanted it and now there was nothing that he could do.


A major headache that couldn't pass quickly enough. The average brain was definitely not meant to think of time as anything but linear. That Sans was currently being forced, once again, to be consciously aware of the blips in the timespace—


It was going to drive him to the point of insanity one of these days if it hadn't already.


Sans blinked once, blinked twice, and adjusted himself to the new memories. The kid was still there, still looking Determined, but now she was hurriedly digging her hands into her pockets and Sans paid no mind to it, he loved her so much for it. Every timeline with her was just a little bit different. This kid was the only thing in this miserable world that was capable of constant change.


He remembered how they'd kissed and how he'd told her he loved her and how even in the end she’d said she still loved him as well. He felt empty and hollow at the loss of that other timeline. She wouldn't remember any of it, now, and it was like they had never said anything at all.


In the end, none of it had mattered. Not one bit of it had really fucking mattered.


"Frisk?" he said gently, fully aware that these hadn't been the words that were supposed to come out of his mouth. But he had just killed her, he wondered if she felt it, and he worried she might still feel hurt.


The kid didn't turn around but she trembled slightly and for a moment, Sans thought she remembered the past timeline.


And he was weak as he closed the distance between them and kissed her again. He was weaker still when she didn't fight him and his eye flashed blue and he shoved his blue tongue down her throatforcing his hand under her pants so he could feel her again. Her fingers started roaming the sides of his coat as he shoved his finger inside her again and brushed his thumb against her clit, just like she had seemed to like it—


And he was weak, and he was still horny from earlier in this current timeline, and he was horrible, he was the worst, he was complete poison and trash and he was about to start again with the i love yous, and i'm sorrys, and just let me...


And then the kid stopped moving her hands around his pockets and bit his tonguehard, and he was so surprised by her unexpected aggression that he gasped and pushed her away—


Her eyes were murderousThis was not Frisk.


Sans felt immediately sick.


And then he killed her with a round of sharp bones and hoped that the next timeline could erase the memory of that dirty brother killer’s taste in his mouth.




He was in Hotland again, again pissedagain angry, and the memories came crashing back. He gritted his teeth. It was no less painful and no less uncomfortable than the first thousands of times.


This time, the kid darted away from him pretty much immediately. Sans followed, running after her, and he was desperately trying to figure out whether this was Frisk running away because she was afraid of him, or if this was the not-Frisk running because she wanted something worse.


A sharp rock on the ground. The kid found it and took it.




He killed her again.

The timeline RESET.




The memories came rushing back now with a wave of pain so bad it induced nausea. 


Sans threw up. The kid laughed.




She died again.




He had her pinned to the ground, now. Hands forced behind her back as Sans pushed the kid's face into the hot ground. Something about this felt very satisfying in a way that would have been sexual if this were the real Frisk pinned under him, taking his cock.


He irrationally wished that this was Frisk.


"will you stop coming back?" he told the not-Frisk.


The kid blew him a childish raspberry that sounded eerily disturbing coming from a murderer like her.


He grimaced with disgust. "stop that."


"What? Am I being too immature, Sans?”—she laughed, and her voice was raspy, so unlike Frisk’s—“What, do you want to fuck metoo?"


He killed her with a wave of Gaster Blasters.




He was getting tired, bone tired, of the constant waves of memories rushing into him and of the constant RESETs.


Sans selfishly wondered if it wouldn't be better to just let the not-Frisk do what she wanted so he could rest as he waited for her at the Judgment Hall.


He was so lazy, after all, and in the end it wouldn't matter, so—


He remembered Papyrus, how his dust had spread on the ground.


There was no way that he would let this fucking kid touch his brother.


He killed her again as soon as she lunged at him.




Then he just started killing her on sight, like he'd done all those timelines ago. It had been such a long time since he'd felt the RESETs happening back-to-back. He threw up more than once. He lost track of time and of the timelines.


He must have killed her at least fifty times.


Fifty-one might be the charm. But, to be safe, he made that fifty-two.




Her hands shot up and she wrapped her arms around herself as Sans still felt angrystill felt pissed, mad that she had walked past the puzzle instead of going back to him and the feelings seemed ridiculous, now, to him. It felt like she had disobeyed him lifetimes ago. He didn’t feel like that same Sans.


He was about to kill her again by sheer reflex when the kid slowly turned around and looked at him, eyes wide, no judgment or hatred in them but just—


Curiosity. And a hint of disappointment.


"Did you just... kill me a bunch of times?"


Sans let out a breath of relief.




He practically ran to her and hugged her and she froze.


"bad runs," he told her with a soothing voice as he let his fingers move through her hair and he kissed her nose and her forehead. "a lot of them. sorry."


Her body tensed. "Did I kill anyone?"


"no," he said and he kissed her forehead again, kissed the top of her head, moved his fingers from her hair to stroke her cheek and the back of her earlobe. "not once. i took care of it."


She let out a sigh of relief before she clung to him. "I'm sorry you had to do that."


Sans forced out a weak snort. "you always think the best of me." you should really stop.


She stood up on her toes and pressed a sweet and grateful kiss on his cheekbone and Sans thought that he would slam her to the ground and fuck her all over again.


"I couldn't live with myself if I hurt anyone else. I thought— I thought I was doing a good job ignoring... them. I’m sorry. I can't believe I let them take over again. When did I die?"


Sans felt guilty and nauseous and he didn't say anything. The expression on the kid's face changed but he couldn't quite make it out.


She wasn't looking at him anymore. Wasn't looking at anything in particular.


He had to bring her back from whatever she was hearing or thinking. "kid, you SAVEd here before you— before the timeline RESET. did you do it on purpose? do you know what it means to SAVE?"


Frisk shook her head no, and she looked at him again with curiosity in her eyes.


Her eyes were so beautiful.

“okay, kid, then I need you to listen to me,” he said and he moved his hands to her cheeks, leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers. “just focus and listen to me, okay?”


She blushed a lovely pink. Her eyes were wide and her lips slightly parted in such an alluring way but he focused on distracting her.


"i don’t fully understand SAVEs myself, but the phenomena seems to act like a ‘bookmark’ wedged into the timespace, if that makes sense” Sans told her, and it was so hard to explain, without the proper math background, the data, the graphs. “at first i thought they happened entirely randomly, a way for the universe to not just completely RESET to the beginning, you know? but then i noticed the patterns when you arrived and you— it just seemed like you were having something to do with it. i’d often wondered if that was the case. you didn’t do it on purpose?”

 “Um— No, I— I don’t think so. I’m not even sure what a timespace is,” she muttered, and Sans couldn’t help it—


He let go of her and laughed. “sorry, that was rude of me. that’s what gaster and i preferred to call it. spacetime?”

She looked at him blankly and Sans just laughed harder.

ohman. you just have no clue, do you?”

Frisk blushed furiously and pushed herself away from him. “Well, I’m so sorry I’m so dumb and not smart like you!” she said angrily.


It took Sans a considerable effort to stop laughing. “no, sorry, don’t be like that, kid. you’re very clever. sometimes i just forget how young you are,” he said, and his laughter died completely as he found himself unable to once again appreciate the curves of her body and he felt again tempted, so tempted, and he remembered what he had done.


“I’m not a child,” she said childishly, and he could tell that she was getting into one of those moods again. Sans groaned. His brain still hurt from the RESETs, and he didn’t have the strength to deal with this shit.

“i never said that,” he told her, a hand rubbing is temple as he tried to sound apologetic through gritted teeth. “i’m sorry. let's just say i forget we don't have the same scientific background. anyway, about the SAVEs— you’re not consciously doing them?”

“I don’t think so,” the kid muttered. He pulled her close to him again and soothed her, pressing another kiss on the top of her head.

“sucks. that makes my job a bit harder. you wanna get outta here? we can talk somewhere else,” he said. "grillby's? the forest?"—he was specifically avoiding having to go home and look at Papyrus—"we can even talk in your hiding spot," he said without thinking, and it was like a million different things came crashing into the kid at once, because suddenly she froze and then she pushed him away and she was looking at him like he was possessed and there was panic in her face.


“Um— Sorry,” she said, movements slightly jerky, and Sans knew exactly what she was going through because he had been through the same long ago when he’d first started feeling the RESETs. Leftover anxiety and fear from the previous timeline when they’d met at the cave. Without the memories to go with it, the body was having a hard time regulating the strong emotions.


Sans backed off. He felt so completely worthless. This kid could really grow to hate him; he wouldn’t blame her if she did.


“you don’t seem okay. i can take you back home,” he offered gently. “papyrus is there. i could give you some space so you—”

She grabbed his hand with hers and tugged it towards her. “You. I want you. I’m sorry, I don’t— I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry. I’m not mad. It was nothing you did. I’m sorry.”


And then she wrapped her arms around him and started sobbing into his coat and Sans felt like complete and utter trash as he held her to him and he felt—


He didn’t know what he felt.


Self-hatred. Lust. Shame.


“shh, kid,” he soothed her, once again kissing the top of her head. “i understand. RESETs are iffy and the leftover emotions are never fun. i’ve been there.”


“H-how can you stand it?” she hiccupped. “I feel—I feel awful. I don’t want this.”


“it will pass, kiddo, shh,” he kissed her forehead and cupped her cheek, brushing some of her tears away. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry you’re going through this. focus on breathing, sweetheart, i’ve got you.”


He held her as her breathing became frantic and she cried, trembling, anxious screams and fear pouring out of her. He ran his fingers gently through her hair, kissed the top of her head, her forehead, stroked her arms with a flutter of blue magic and felt completely unworthy of touching her.


Sans was just a broken shell of a monster who had gone through too many conscious RESETs, had seen too much, killed too much, had suffered and caused others to suffer way – too – much. And Frisk was so good


So kind


So loving




And he wasn’t worthy of loving her as imperfectly as he did, as badly as he did, but Sans had been so selfish


He was such a fucking selfish asshole


And all he wanted to do was be with her, and touch her, and hold her, and kiss her, even as she stood broken before him,


Broken because of him and she would never know it.


He was such a coward.


And he was so disgusting and needy and weak.


He loved her with all the broken pieces of himself that he still carried.


And then her breathing finally got steady. She wiped her tears with the sleeves of her sweater and looked up to him with her puffy eyes red from crying yet she still looked so astonishingly beautiful to him. And all he wanted to say was do you remember when I told you I love you?


Another dead timeline. Another remnant of a past that he shared with her but only he recollected.


Another bit of fuel to her nightmares.


Nightmares of him.


This was the second fucking time he had raped her because of his twisted love for her.


Because he wanted her.


And he so badly wished that he could make himself stop.


Sometimes he wished he’d never met her, had never met Toriel, had killed the kiddo on sight.


It would have been more Mercy than this.


“Thank you,” he heard her say once her heartbeat steadied, and it was like a kick to the gut for him, not that he had guts, but still.


Sans hated himself.


"let me do something for you," he softly told her. "anything. whatever you want."


He saw her shy smile and was so grateful that she was no longer the defeated girl he had fucked.


"You mean, like a birthday present?" she asked him and he snorted. Of course for her birthday. Next month, on the third.


"yeah," he grinned at her. He didn't feel like grinning but for her, he would.


"Don't let Papyrus feed me snail cake. That thing is disgusting," she said, half-laughing, and he could see the life slowly come back to her eyes and he was thankful, so thankful, for Frisk


Sans laughed. "consider it done. i'll eat it myself i have to."


Frisk laughed with him. "I'll have the condiments ready."


"mustard you think of everything?"


"Ha! That was so lame, you dork," she laughed. Then slowly, she went serious. "You know, there is one more thing. I'd choose it over the lack of snail cake, actually."


He didn't like where this was going but he smiled. "yeah kid?"


"I think I need to keep going. To meet Asgore. I can feel it. But I have to leave Snowdin for that, and I was hoping things could stay the same between us, that we could still be friends and hang out together, if— when I left."


His grin faded. “kid… there’s no way i’m going to let you meet asgore. you’re going to get yourself killed.”


“Maybe we can find another way,” Frisk told him, eyes determined, and he hated the dumb childish idealism in her voice. “But I’m the last soul—you’re all so close to be free—I just want—”


“any other human could take your place,” he said coldly. “let them. you should stay.”


Sans,” she said in a reproachful tone. “You know I can’t do that.”


i can,” he told her, and he let his hands fall to her hips, pulling her closer to him, reveling on how soft her body felt against his. “i swear if you leave i’m going to follow you and kill off any monster that tries to touch you. i’ll kill asgore if i have to. don’t go, kid. please?”

She pulled herself away from him and looked at him dead in the eye sockets, brow furrowed. “Don’t tell me that. You’re better than that.”

Sans snorted. This was hilarious. He pulled her back towards him, arms firmly wrapped against the back of her waist. “i’m better than that? i thought this was the timeline where i’d told you about all those kids i murdered,” he half-joked. His voice came out bitter.


The kid went quiet, and Sans laughed again. This was— really funny. She clearly had no response to that.


“look, i get that you have this silly crush on me,” he said, and he was really wanting to laugh now, this entire situation was just incredibly hilarious. “that you think you love me, or whatever, so you’ve had me idealized in your little childish head. but, kid— i’m not like that. i’ll never be good, i’m manipulative. i’m selfish… i’m…”

She tried to pull herself away from him again but he held her there.


“i’m… i’m wrong a little too often. i take… a little too much pleasure in other people’s pain, when inflict it…”


 “Let go of me,” she said firmly. He ignored her.

“and kid, it wouldn’t really hurt you if you took a cue from me and started being at least a little bit selfish too. but until you do, i can be selfish enough for the both of us.”

She tried to push herself away from him and he let go of her, feeling a juvenile sort of satisfaction as she fell to the ground from her effort. The satisfaction was short-lived and he immediately felt guilty. He sighed and offered his hand.


She took it. He helped her up. This had been a really stupid fight.


don’t go to asgore, kid,” he said, and he wished it sounded like a command but instead it sounded like he was pleading. “don’t make me kill him. i will, if he fights you. you and pap… you mean the world to me now, you’re more important than us getting out. please understand that.”


Her voice was small. There was a hint of frustration in it that he didn’t quite understand. ”Sometimes, I don’t think it’s up to me.”


make it up to you. i’ll do genocide,” he warned her. Begged her. He felt trapped. “i don’t want to. i really don’t. but i’ll do it, if i have to.”


He pulled her to him again and sent a desperate wave of tingling magic with his hand up her back and when she gasped and blushed profusely he felt a sick disappointment in himself as he realized what he had resorted to doing to her, again. “please just be selfish. stay with us.”


He didn’t want her to leave. She would get killed more times than he had killed her.


She looked so hesitant. “Sans— I—”


Another pulse of magic up and down her back and suddenly he was aware that they were still in Hotland. His eye sockets were on her and he desperately hoped she couldn’t see how hungry he felt, how bold he was being— Again


He certainly saw an invitation in the way she looked at him.


“let’s not fight, kiddo. i’m bone tired,” he told her, eye sockets fixed on her face, taking in her every expression. “wanna go to bed?”


There was a hint of fear in her voice as she laughed off his question. “it’s like two in the afternoon.”

“there are other things we can do if you don’t want to sleep,” he told her, and he leaned down and pressed his mouth to her neck. He felt her breath catch in her throat. Sans tried wildly to remember which timeline he was in. “remember what we had been doing when your little friend rang the phone? we could do that again. would you like that?”


Um—” She hesitated, but she didn’t say no.


He pressed a small kiss against her neck and she groaned slightly. Sans’ grin widened. She wanted it. “off to bed now, i think.”


He had them take a shortcut.

Chapter Text

She fell on the bed with a squeak and suddenly Sans was on top of her.


He was desperate, he needed to do this, he needed to convince the kid to stay, but at the same time he was


So  w a n t i n g  this.


He'd missed her so, so much throughout the RESETs.


A flash of blue as he shoved his hand under her shirt and bit her earlobe. "you want to do this, right?" he asked her, voice growing husky with need


A small moan escaped her lips as he gently licked the soft skin of her earlobe and he took that as enough of a yes. He rewarded her with another flash of blue and his hand on her navel. She needed to associate him with good things, and only good thingsplease, please


Don't leaveDon't go.


Stay here.


Sans tried hard to remember what their past in this particular timeline was like. His mind was still a mess of timelines. It had been such a long time since the RESETs happened back-to-back like they had. "we've done this before?"


Her voice was coming out soft and silky and he loved it. "Um— yes? Yesterday. You don't remember?"


He let out a soft laugh against her ear. "it feels like forever ago to me."


Another small bite to her earlobe and then a kiss planted against the skin just below it. They hadn't gone too far in this timeline. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe if they became an item, like she so wanted


Maybe if he fucked her so hard and so thoroughly enough like he wanted


Maybe she would forget this silly idea of trying to free the monster race and he wouldn't have to kill Undyne, wouldn't have to kill Asgore, wouldn't have to kill anything that stood in her fucking way because she was hisshe was only his


And he really didn't want the dust to mix in with the blood that he'd never felt completely cleansed out of but for herhe would.


He would do anything if it meant he got to keep her in the end.


He moved on to kiss her neck, hands moving up her waist under her shirt and softly massaging his magic into her skin. "i missed this. have i kissed you?"


He could practically hear the frantic blush in her voice when she let out an indignant "No!"


Sans laughed. He couldn’t help it. She was acting pretty high and mighty for a kid who was letting him do whatever he wanted to her. "wanna try it?" His voice was husky and he stuck out his blue tongue in a cheeky manner, moving his mouth only inches away from her own. "curious?"


"No, thank you," she glared at him. Then her voice faltered with uncertainty, "We've really never kissed... Have we?"


A flash of guilt. He lied to her. "of course not, kiddo."


His hand went up up under her shirt until he felt the band of her bra with the tip of his fingers. How frustrating. That bit of fabric should come off.


He had to will himself to not disappear it.


"i wouldn't exactly be opposed to the idea, though, you know. of kissing you. just this once, if you're curious."


She went quiet, so quiet, and he decided to push. "have you ever kissed anyone before? wanna try?"


"Um— I'd rather not," she said. She sounded unsure. He pushed some more.


"i won't tell anyone," he told her. And then her eyes drifted to his mouth and she bit her lower lip just so, in a way that was so alluring and inviting and just so, so tempting. And couldn’t resist her and gave her a quick peck on the lips with his magic in a way that seemed entirely innocent, was probably in itself entirely innocent


He could escalate it later. He was definitely  p l a n n i n g  to.


Frisk blushed a furious red and Sans felt the sick need to see if that blush extended to her entire naked body. 


"just like that. no big deal. of course, it might feel different if you ever kiss someone with actual lips," he winked. 


"I can't believe you just did that," Frisk said and she sounded mortified and excited and happy


And Sans was feeling so possessive of this kid. 


Her first kiss was hisAgain. Just for himno one else. He felt victorious.


Sans would make sure this timeline would SAVE even if it killed her.


"i can do many things," he grinned at her. He hated how predatory the way he was looking at her felt to him and hated even more how innocently oblivious she was to what he was doing. If she knew, if she had more experience— Perhaps this wouldn't feel so wrong. "better learn them from me, right? i can teach you." His eyes wandered back to her mouth and it looked so alluring, so tempting


"have you ever had another person's tongue in your mouth, kiddo?"


She scrunched up her nose in disgust. "Ew, gross! Of course not! That sounds so disgusting."


Sans laughed. "you're so inexperienced. it actually feels pretty good." He stuck his tongue out her again in a seemingly cheeky manner but this time he hoped it sparked her interest. "i can show you. wanna try?"


Her eyebrows furrowed. "I'd really rather not."


"what would you rather do?" he asked her suddenly.


"Um— what?"


"what would you want me to do? i can show you—give you—teach you—anything," he whispered in her ear, one hand up her back, placing the other one up against her navel and conveniently   riding her shirt up. When she froze and didn't push him away he kept going, soft kisses on her neck, hands full of blue magic travelling up and down the kid's torso. "anything you want, kiddo. just ask for it. go on. be selfish."


She gently pushed him way and her eyes met his and suddenly he wanted to pin her down again and force her to take him.


He instead forced himself to look at her and he could swear he hadn't meant to tighten his grip on her as he had.


"I don't want anything," she told him stubbornly, but she was a liar, Sans knew that she was,


He called her out on it.


"everybody wants something, kid. just ask me, i will give it to you," name your price.


And suddenly the kid looked determined and she must have felt braver than she looked. She looked at him straight in the eye and her cheeks were red and her voice was soft but it never wavered when her eyes glowed bright with Determination and she said "You. I want you."


And Sans felt triumph and guilt and so much lust and self-hate mixed in with the frantic and desperate broken love that he felt for her.


"Just you," she mumbled again and she looked away, now sounding far shier and more uncertain than before.


Sans gave out a chuckle before he said in a voice that was lighter and more teasing than he felt like being, "you already have me, kiddo. right here in snowdin."


Her face fell and she sounded disbelieving and frustrated. "Are you really doing all of this just to get me to stay in Snowdin?" 


Sans wouldn't have loved the kid so much if she weren't so clever.


Another wave of pleasurable magic down her back but this time, the kid tried to move away from it. Sans was beginning to feel like he was losing her again and he hated the fights and her rejection. "you can't really blame me for wanting you to stay here, kiddo. asgore will kill you. if you even make it to asgore."


"Does it really matter if I die? Doesn't the timeline just Reset?” She sounded so angry and then became thoroughly embarrassed when he got angry too and he shoved his hands down the sides of her hips and he forced her with his magic to feel so aroused and turned on for him that another moan escaped her lips before she bit her lower lip. Her cheeks flushed red and she averted her gaze as she stubbornly pretended not to have felt anything, but Sans knew—her breathing was getting heavier, her hips had shifted ever so slightly towards him— “Besides, what do you care? You've probably killed me more times than I can count."


His grip tightened around her hips in a possessive way and he was so angry. "good point, and yet here you are again messing around in the bed of your killer, kid. i guess that really should call your judgment into question since you're clearly so obsessed with me," Sans said, tone nasty and demeaning as he snapped at her. 


Her cheeks were still red and she looked furious and tried to push him off of her. “I’m not obsessed with you!


He laughed. “puh-lease, kiddo. like i haven’t noticed you how try to spend every waking moment of your day with me. not to mention at night, you sleep on my bed."


"You're such a hypocrite! If you had such a problem with it, you wouldn't keep inviting me to spend time with you and maybe I'd finally be over you already!"


He hated how true her words sounded. "god you are such a little brat."


"I'm not a brat, I am not a kid! I'm almost fourteen!"


The ridiculous statement almost made his laugh seem sincere instead of sounding as mocking and bitter as it came out. "you’re nothing but a child."


“I am notstop always acting like I’m some little kid!” She was absolutely glaring at him and tried to push him off of her againhard, and this time she almost succeeded until he pinned both of her wrists to the bed with each hand, he was so fucking angry with her.


"fine,” he told her, and he tried hard to control his breathing, and his fury, and the ever-present sick temptation to taste the kid’s mouth with his own. His face was inches away from hers, and he could tell her breathing was heavy too. “fine, you’re not a kid? let's have sex, then, since you so badly want to be treated like an adult."


Her face paled and her voice stuttered. "Wh-what?"


"let's have sex, kiddo. prove me you're not a child."


And Sans was sure he'd won, was sure he'd shut her up for at least a while, and the kid looked so scared and so intimidated but also angry and so she said, to his surprise, her words coming out like she was accepting a dare out of spite, "Fine!"


There must have been a visible change in the way he looked at her then because suddenly there was fear hidden somewhere in her furious glare and her resolve was beginning to crumble.


She was bluffing. She had to be.


But she had given permission. And he was so angry with her, so temptedso resentful.


So fucking horny from having her alone and on his bed and pinned under him.


This hadn't been the way he envisioned her giving herself to him but he knew that he still wanted to accept the offer and he was so mad.


Mad at himself for being weak. Mad at her for being juvenile.


Mad at the world and at himself for expecting and wanting anything more mature and less petty and juvenile from a fucking little kid.


And he was angry and he was tempted to just take her at her word. To pretend she wasn't a child and a virgin, again, in this fucking timeline and just take her rough and hard and use her and ruin her and come inside of her just so many times until she was limp and tired of crying and begging him to stop and just took it however he felt like giving it to her and without complaint.


He wanted to know what it was like to fuck the Determination out of her.


And he knew it wasn't ideal but his hands still strengthened their grip on her wrists and when she flinched he thought if the kid was such a slut that she would give herself to him after having so clearly angered him then perhaps she deserved to feel what it was like when he was feeling like being rough.


He moved her hands above her head and firmly pinned them with one hand so that with the other he could unzip her pants. Her face paled and he reveled in the fear in her eyes.


"so you want me to fuck you, then, you little slutdo you know what you're asking?" he said, and his voice was rough and husky and dark against her ear as he moved his hand down her pants and started playing with the hem of her underwear. She was frozen into place,


But her breathing was heavy with a want that he didn’t know she could possess.


And maybe she wanted it and maybe she didn't. In any case, she wouldn't want it for long.


Not when he was in one of those moods.


He was angry at her and at himself when he briefly brushed his fingers against her clit through the fabric of her underwear. The kid whimpered with fear and with lust.


There was no way he could go through with this without ending up with yet another broken timeline. Another RESET.


He bit the soft flesh of her neck with a force that was far gentler than he felt like applying but the kid flinched anyway.


And there was no way he could go through with this. The kid didn't deserve to bear the brunt of his cruelty. 


He moved his mouth to her ear and gently bit her earlobe again before his fingers briefly  brushed against her clit one last time through the fabric of her damp underwear and then he whispered, "i don't fuck little girls." 


And his tone sounded nasty and mean but what he was saying was such a boldfaced lie that for a moment he was afraid she'd call him out on it.


He felt an immense gust of relief when she never did.


And then he moved himself off of her and sat at the edge of the bed. He turned to look at her and she looked so completely rejected and ashamed and he felt like such a worthless, disgusting asshole but he told himself it was for the best.


They both should really get over each other.


Still he felt like the scum of the Earth when the kid started crying and she clung again to the front of his coat and pressed her head against his chest, her pants still unbuttoned, her shirt looking a jumbled mess like someone had—


like a grown-fucking-man had been trying to take it off.


He felt so incredibly sick and ashamed of himself.


"You're such a jerk! I hate you," she scolded him, and when he felt her hands loosen their hold on his coat he thought she would run away but instead she wrapped her arms around him and started sobbing against his chest. "I hate you. I hate that I love you. That was so mean—"


And at least that would make it two of them that hated his guts.


He didn't dare touch her and he guessed that made him more of an asshole than he already was.


"i'm sorry, kiddo," he said and he really meant it, he felt so guilty. "i know i'm a jerk."


A single boney hand on the top of her head. Her hair felt so soft as he stroked it. "i’m so sorry, kid. i won’t—i don’t know what came over me. i’m sorry i touched you like that. that was way outta line.”


She hugged him even tighter and cried even harder against him. “You jerk… Asshole.” The cuss sounded gross coming out of her lips.


A tentative arm wrapped around her as the other one started playing with her hair in that way that she found so calming. “i won’t do it again. please… i’m so sorry.”


And when she didn’t leave it steadied his resolve and he gave her a shy kiss on the top of her head.


“this shouldn’t have happened. what i just did… there are ways we can prevent it, you know?”


She shook her head frantically from side to side and he almost wanted to shake some sense into her.


yes, you know. you’re very clever. this thing, between us… this— ‘friendship’. it would never work. you know that, right? it would be best if we were kept apart. we shouldn’t ever be alone together. you understand that, right?”


Her voice finally came out, small and frantic. “Please don’t leave me, Sans, please, please—”


He ran his fingers through her soft hair. “kiddo, you are so good. and i— we are complete opposites in the morality scale. you should know— i’m not a good person. and i’m telling you this just once, because it’s really hard for me to warn you off, but i feel like i should and i— do you know how many times i’ve been close to hurting you? how many times i have wanted to? and i am not just talking about the times you don’t come back as yourself after a RESET. this is ongoing. i’ve wanted to—do bad things to you—a lot of times.”


“You haven’t hurt me once,” she told him, reassuring, and he kept stroking her hair and her back and he chuckled.


“i haven't hurt you once that you remember.


“the timelines usually end when i screw up.


“you know how i can make the timelines end, right kiddo?”


And she sat ever so still and her hands shook slightly but she didn’t pull away.


Sans felt like a huge weight had been taken off his shoulders and had been instead transported directly into his chest.


“so now you know. what you do now is up to you. you can’t leave snowdin—i will follow you if you do—but if you never want to see me again—”


She cut him off and her voice was stern but it had that ridiculous quality that was so full of Mercy that she used when other monsters were trying to give her a hard time. “Have you ever watched MewMew: Kissy-Cutie 2? I’ve heard it’s awful. We should watch it to make sure, just for the laughs.”


He blinked twice. “kid?”


“I don’t think I’d have as much fun watching it with Papyrus as I do with you. You and I—when we watch bad tv together, you always come up with the funniest commentary, it makes me love watching bad tv with you. Papyrus just likes everything. Remember that time we made fun of him for an entire week because he thought Mettaton’s one-robot soap opera was going to be a hit? He would probably just love MewMew: Kissy-Cutie 2. Then where would I get my nightly dose of snark?”


“buddy, if you’re just trying to change the subject—”


“You are so funny. And smart. And so considerate and caring and good. You are so good to everyone. I wish you had told me all of this earlier so that I would know how unaware you are of how actually good you are. I have never felt unsafe around you, at least not in this timeline. Isn’t that enough?”


He did shake her slightly this time. “this thing you’re doing has gotten you killed before. refusing to see anything but the best in everyone. kid, i admire that, but—you have no idea how stressful it is to watch, you’ve died doing this so many times—with the married dogs, with snowdrake, with me—”


“And aren’t I still alive?” she asked him and he didn’t quite know how to answer to that.

frisk, kiddo, you— you really have a death wish, don’t you— you’re really rattling my bones here, sometimes i think i have to worry sick about you for the both of us—”


That got a huge smile out of her and she gave him a quick kiss on the chin before enthusiastically saying, “Hi, Sans! I missed you! It’s snow nice to see your puntastically caring self is back.”


He stared at her. There were no words.


She tried to pull away from her embrace and this time when he held her in place there was no malice.


No shame.


Just awe.


“you and i should have a very long talk one of these days, kiddo,” he told her, and then he gently pushed her hair out of her face and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and he let her go.


He felt suddenly so hollow being without her.


And then she gave him a warm smile and she held out her hand.


And he knew that he didn't deserve her but he still took her hand and for the moment allowed himself to just be content.


Some indefinable quality had changed between them and he knew he and Frisk were somehow closer to each other than they were before, however that was, whatever their relationship was.

For some reason they loved each other more than he thought could be possible—him with his broken soul, her with her pure one—each in their own special way


She pulled him towards the door and jokingly told him “How much are you willing to bet Papyrus is making spaghetti right now?”


And Sans remembered. Pap was making ravioli. He smiled and the words came out without malice but he still felt something tight form in his chest. “i bet you all your secrets that he isn’t.”


Frisk laughed. “Ha! Game on. But if I win, you have to watch MewMew: Kissy-Cutie 2 with me and there will be no third person allowed. You always hold back the snark when Papyrus is liking the show.”


His smile widened. That sounded good too.


“i guess we’ll see, kiddo,” he said and he held her hand tightly and stole a kiss from her cheek and he loved the way the simple affection made her blush. “but if i were you, i’d start trying hard to remember my life story.”


She stuck her tongue out at him in a playful way and he grinned mischievously before sticking out his. And he still wanted to taste that pink tongue with his own; he still badly wanted her— He still felt the shame and the guilt and the lust— He couldn’t believe he had crossed such a big line with her without discontinuing the timeline


But there was something else now between them that he couldn’t quite make out, something stronger and heavier that was between them and not just within him.


He found that he liked whatever it was they now shared even more than he liked the feeling of his cock being forced into her.


Sans could get used to this change.

Chapter Text

She was with him, and he was with her, but seeing Papyrus again was still painful and excruciatingly predictable.


Sans couldn’t help but hate being near Pap so soon after the RESET, and the kid noticed—Sans flinched when he saw his brother and Papyrus said—




Sans didn't even bother to joke this time. Papyrus was acting just the same as the last timeline and Sans hated it, hated the way even his brother became predictable, his words causing him to get that same scratched record feeling that Sans loathed so much. It was so depressing. And of course the kid would apologize for not saying goodbye earlier, because she was so sweet


"Um— We just ran really fast?"—that was new—"Sorry we left without saying goodbye, Papyrus."


And of course Pap would answer with the same—


“NO REASON TO APOLOGIZE. I ASSUMED YOU DIDN’T WANT TO DISTRACT ME FROM MY IMPORTANT MEETING WITH UNDYNE." Sans almost gaggedOld, old... He wanted to die, he wanted all timelines to really just end already, everything anyone did now would be exactly the same, even Papyrus


Exactly the same and always repeating over and  o v e r  and nobody knew it but him.




"It was great!" the kid said, and suddenly Sans felt her soft hand on his arm. His eyes met hers and she was noticing him, her brows slightly furrowed with concern as if asking him: Are you okay? Then she turned to Papyrus and said "I took some pictures. There was a puzzle there!  Do you want to look at them, later?"


His attention perked up.




"Sans and I wanted to go out into the cold again,” the kid liedlied for him? “It was ridiculously hot in Hotland. Do you mind if we try your pasta later? We won't be out for long."


That interaction was different. And now Papyrus was different, too.




That interaction was new new new!


Sans suddenly felt the kid’s hand grab his own and she started pulling at it. "Thanks, Papyrus! Come on, Sans, let's go see the lake!"


She dragged him out, but he was giving no resistance. What was she planning? Sometimes, the ideas that formed on the kid’s head were so bewildering


They walked in silence for a while and Sans refused to let go of the kid's hand as they headed to the body of water that Frisk liked to think of as a lake but that Sans knew very well was just a particularly thick patch of river.


They didn’t have to walk for long. Snowdin was a small town.


Once they made it there, she had them sit down under the trees nearest to the water. The kid then moved to let go of his hand and he held on even tighter.


He felt a possessive sort of satisfaction when she blushed and didn’t try to move her hand again.


“So what’s up?” she asked him, voice light. “You didn’t look too happy to see Papyrus there. It was… bizarrely unlike you. Did something happen between you two?”


Sans shook his head. “it was nothing, kiddo. just been a while since i’d had to see papyrus after a RESET.”


She made him feel like he had her full attention. “Care to elaborate?”


 He gave a small laugh even though he wasn’t finding anything particularly funny. “it was… as depressing as always, i guess. you have no idea what it is like. seeing people you care about just forget. they become so repetitive and predictable”—Sans snorted—“but I guess this time it was my own fault.”


Sans caught the way her hand clenched slightly around his own. If the kid had caught the meaning behind what he had said, she didn’t mention it.

“everyone just seems to forget and then the world just repeats. everyone but you, kiddo.”


“I forget too,” she told him, but Sans shook his head.

“you remember. you just don’t know you do. but you’re so close to being aware of it, kiddo. that little panic attack you had in hotland—”


The kid tensed up, and she clearly didn’t want to remember it, but Sans continued—


“you were remembering something, then. not consciously but the feelings were still there. i went through the same thing before i started holding on to conscious memories. it’s—i’m sorry, i know it was awful for you but it was exciting for me to see. you were remembering something i did—that i’m sorry that i did—but your mind can’t quite make out what the memory was so your body had trouble processing the sudden emotion.”


“Well, it really sucked,” she told him, and now her voice had a reproachful hint to it.


“i know. i’m sorry. it will get worse,” he told her, and suddenly he wasn’t aware that he was doing it but he held her hand with both of his own and started running his fingers through the soft skin. He found the movement very calming for him, and pleasant. “but then we’ll both remember. we’ll have each other.”


The kid bumped her shoulder against his. “We already have each other, you dolt. You’re not alone.”


Sans laughed. “buddies forever?”


“Of course! Best friends forever.” A pause from her, and then—“But Sans—what did you do?”


And he was a coward and he was weak and he didn’t know how honest he could be. He thought for a long moment, and Frisk was so patient, and then he finally mustered up just a little bit of courage and admitted,  “i RESET the timeline today.”


And he left out the way he had kissed her and how badly he’d wanted her and how he’d told her he loved her before apologizing and taking her in the end.


How much he’d made her like it.


How good it had felt to feel her coming around his cock.


How badly and guilty he had felt afterwards and how empty she had looked after he was done pumping into her, how unresponsive she’d become. He’d broken her, in that timeline. He didn’t want to do it again.


But at the same time he really, r e a l l y did.


She didn’t say anything and it felt like she was ignoring his confession. She probably was. The kid seemed as desperate to cling onto him as he was to her,


And how fucked up and sick that was, that she would willingly keep herself at his mercy like this.


He gently massaged some of his magic into her hand in a way that felt forcefully intimate and frantic and desperate. Maybe the kid felt like she needed him, but he needed her, too.


“do you want to just go back?” he offered, and her smile was short and forced but she still sweetly kissed his cheek and said, “When you’re ready.”


They weren’t ready for a while.



Papyrus greeted them as soon as they got back with a batch of pasta squares that somehow looked overcooked and undercooked at the same time. The tall skeleton was beaming proudly at them, so Sans grinned—


"nice! thanks, pap, it looks great."


And from behind him, Sans could feel the kid moving to inspect the pot of pasta and then he heard her stifle a joyful snort.


"Oh my god, Papyrus. Hahaha niiice! Th-thanks!"




"I'll s-set the table," the kid offered, and while Sans kept kindly congratulating Papyrus on his nonexistent cooking skills he caught Frisk giggling into the silverware drawer. He guessed Papyrus hadn't done a very good job with the ravioli dish. To be honest, it looked pretty unappetizing.


Sans and Frisk were both probably still going to eat every last bit of it and compliment the chef afterwards.


The kid seemed to love Papyrus almost as much as Sans did. He loved her for that, and for many other things.

It wasn’t often that Sans encountered a person who admitted that his brother was cool.

The three of them sat at the table and, just as predicted, he and Frisk ate the ravioli up. Every so often, Frisk would stifle another giggle or wipe the beginnings of a happy tear from her eye. Clearly, she was finding this entire thing to be hilarious.

And Sans loved watching her.

“this is great, pap,” Sans grinned, and something about the way he said it caught Frisk’s attention.

She knew his moods, she knew his quirks. The kid caught on even before Papyrus did that a bad joke was coming soon.

“WHY, THANK YOU, SANS,” Papyrus said, oblivious to Sans’ humerous intentions. “I AM GLAD YOU LIKE THE RAVIOLI.”

“i do, bro. in fact, i think you may have outdone yourself, which is surprising, because—”


“—i thought that was—”


“—im-pasta-ble,” he finished with a wink and a grin, causing Papyrus to give out an exasperated screech and Frisk to laugh so hard into her bowl of pasta that she started choking.

Hahahaha”—cough—“I’m fine, I’m fine—” she said between laughs and gasps for air. Papyrus looked furious.


“heh, sorry kiddo,” Sans grinned. “i cannoli believe you found that so funny.”

Frisk laughed again and Papyrus glared at him as he suppressed his own laughter. “SANS! STOP!”

“okay, bro,” Sans said.


“no need to be upsetti,” Sans said.


It took the three of them a very long time to finish the meal.

After dinner, Frisk would usually help Papyrus with the dishes while Sans pretended to nap on the couch because he was, as Papyrus often stated, a lazy bones.

Frisk never minded, and in return Sans would often sneak food from Grillby’s into the house for the kid to eat when Papyrus wasn’t around to ask her why she wasn’t eating his pasta.

As always, the kid took a long time cleaning the dishes with Pap. They often joked around while they did so, talking about puzzles or about some tv show or another. The two really seemed to enjoy each other’s company, for which Sans was grateful. Papyrus had so badly wanted a friend before the human came along.

She completed them. The kid was like family now.

Sans often wondered if Papyrus would be happy or perturbed if he ever married Frisk.

And maybe marriage was too strong a thing to consider. The kid was, well—a kid—and she was the anomaly and the cause for the RESETs. Her presence still spiked his scientific curiosity even through all the obsessive love and the lust that he felt for her. And she was just so young and so innocent and he was—

Just so, so undeserving of her.

He had hurt her so many times in so many timelines.

But in these alternative scenarios that he dreamt up in his head, whenever Papyrus found out of this thing he and the kid shared it was because the two of them were getting married, and Sans had to admit that as far daydreams went this one was nice enough.

It would be disturbing to daydream instead of a scenario in which he just up and told Pap that he was fucking Frisk, was raping Frisk.

He always, always made sure to lock the door whenever the kid was in his room alone with him.

And if Papyrus knew something was going on or if he even suspected—Sans really, really didn’t want to know.

He would die or discontinue the timeline if Pap ever found out.

Probably the latter. He was such a coward. And he couldn’t live with himself if he ever even remotely considered leaving Papyrus all alone.

Papyrus and Frisk were all that he lived for now. Which was ironic, seeing as how the kid had caused Papyrus’ death so many times—

And how he had killed and tortured and inflicted so much pain on the kid just so many times

But he cared about them both so, so much. He would do anything for the both of them and needed them so, so much. He would protect the both of them from anything—

Except from himself.

Except from the darkness that existed deep within himself.

Levels of violence just weren’t a thing that could be gotten rid of. And hadn’t Sans known that, going in?

Hadn’t he?

Sometimes he felt like he’d had LOVE from the start. Even before going to Asgore. Even before killing the first human.

The kid suddenly jumped on top of him and brought him out of his reverie.

“Sans!” she exclaimed in her wonderful voice, pulling him out of the spiral of self-hate he had been dragging himself into. She was so happy as she hugged him and said, “MewMew: Kissy-Cutie 2?”

Sans grinned at her. “pap didn’t make spaghetti, you cheater. where is my free bedtime story?”

Papyrus seemed to hear the last words all the way from the kitchen. “SANS, IT’S TOO EARLY FOR MY BEDTIME STORY. THE HUMAN SAID WE WERE WATCHING ANIME TONIGHT.”

Sans laughed at that. “why, you little cheat,” he mock-scolded the kid. She was grinning at him in a mischievous way that was just so adorable. Then he whispered in her ear without really thinking it, and he was vaguely aware that his voice had gotten husky, “you owe me more than just a bedtime story tonight.”

And then her breath caught on her throat and she blushed a deep red and he found he still wanted her.

He felt so guilty yet eager to sin.

Tonight might be a good night for the kid to try a sleepover with Papyrus.

But he was not going to be the one to suggest that.

“I HAVE HEARD GOOD THINGS ABOUT MEWMEW: KISSY-CUTIE 2,” Papyrus said, bringing a huge bag of burnt popcorn with him. Sans heard Frisk softly point out that Pap could have just asked her to make the popcorn instead.

As Papyrus approached, Sans sat down on a corner of their jingly couch and quickly grabbed the kid and pulled her onto his lap. Papyrus had this annoying tendency to sit right in between them, blocking him access to the kid.

Papyrus, oblivious, still sat right in the middle of the couch, but now with less room the kid was squished against Sans and Sans found that

he really rather liked it when the kid’s body was pressed against his own.


Sans laughed, placing his arms casually but firmly around the kid’s midsection. Man, his brother really liked everything. He was so cool.

He knew Frisk didn’t like it when he held back on the snarky comments but Sans thought he might find MewMew: Kissy-Cutie 2 to be a good anime after all, if Papyrus liked it.

The anime turned out to be a terrible thing to watch. Jesus Christ, Alphys—how could you like this shit? But at least Sans had the kid sitting snugly on his lap and every so often, Papyrus would get up to make more popcorn—

And then Sans would stroke the kid’s thighs and tease her with magic and he never let on that he was doing it deliberately but he was intensely aware of how the kid would squirm against him in a way that felt so good, perhaps too good.

And Frisk grew quieter and quieter. And Sans wasn’t really paying attention to the anime anymore, in the end.

He should have really thought to bring a blanket downstairs to make his touching of Frisk an ongoing thing but at least Papyrus finished the batches of burnt popcorn pretty quick and was constantly pausing the show to go get more.

By 8 PM he was incredibly horny. He probably needed fresh air. Instead, Papyrus wanted a bedtime story.

He should have really thought this through.

Papyrus was awake enough to be read two separate comics and reading each of them was increasingly painful in a very real way.

Then Papyrus finally fell asleep and when he did Sans almost literally ran down the stairs. He was so ready to just grab the kid and drag her into his bed and see just how far he could take things with her, he wanted to go and keep going and was ready to not stop unless she absolutely begged him to

He was so horny for her. And after all his work the kid was probably so wet and eager for him.

This was love, right?

Then he made it to the couch, and saw that the kid was asleep.

Well, shit.

She was probably still all tired out from Hotland. (They’d been to Hotland that day, right? It was still Saturday?) It had been a big day of many, many timelines, after all.

He took a shortcut upstairs to grab a blanket for her and let her sleep.

Sans guessed that tomorrow would be another day for him and Frisk. She looked so sweet when she rested.

He kissed her forehead even though he wanted to do much, much more.

She still owed her that conversation about how she had gotten down here and he was kind of selfishly hoping that she would also feel like she owed him sex.

Not that the kid was experienced enough to know that’s what he wanted from her. But he was hoping even a kid like her might guess that there was only enough petting a man could do before he wanted a return in his investment.

It was a far-fetched wish but there it was. Not that he expected Frisk to oblige. Not that he was even sure that she should oblige.

He was still incredulous and frankly sort of antsy that he hadn’t chosen to discontinue the timeline when he had crossed so many lines. Killing Frisk again would be a Mercy if he was screwing the kid up with his lust. Screwing her before he killed her would be an added bonus.

And he hadn’t really done all he wanted to do to her, before.

He hadn’t been near selfish enough to completely enjoy it.

And he was just thinking nonsense, honestly, because he was so incredibly horny.

He really should stop thinking of the ways he could hurt Frisk and instead focus on solutions to his current problem—like brushing up on his calculus or maybe solving a few energy problems, he had always liked those.

He hadn’t really dared touch himself again in this godforsaken house since Papyrus nearly walked in on him that one time. He’d been unable to do that without obsessing over whether Papyrus was around the corner or not ever since, and he really didn’t feel like jacking it while he focused his thoughts on his brother, God no.

Jacking off was a complete no. Thanks, Papyrus. Sleepover at Undyne’s soon.

So was he going to try to integrate some vector functions or did he still have Sandy’s phone number or—?

Come to think about it, it really had been a long day. Maybe he could take a few books to bed and decide there.

He dropped himself on his bed and it was pretty comfortable if not a bit too big and empty without Frisk.

Maybe he should go back and move the kid into bed with him but what if she woke up or he ended up going just a little too far with her.

And what about that math he had been considering doing? Not to mention—did he have Sandy’s phone number? Would it be cheating on Frisk if he went and got off with someone else? Why was he asking himself that? What was he to Frisk?

Maybe he should just go back downstairs and wake the kid up and they could talk.

 He fell asleep trying to decide with his hand down his pants.

Chapter Text

He shouldn't have been as surprised as he was, waking up to find Frisk had crawled into his bed in the middle of the night.


No matter how much she had denied it, this kid was more than a little obsessed with him.


It was unhealthy.


Had it not been for the fact that it was still ungodly early in the morning, Sans might have had the presence of mind to register how bizarrely ironic it was to worry about the kid’s state of mind as he nuzzled closer to what was still technically a child.


He had fallen asleep with his hand down his pants. Had the kid noticed?


Maybe she'd want to, uh, help him out.


That thought was as sick as it was ridiculous. He shouldn’t be thinking this way.


He mustered the courage to check the clock. 


7:03 AM.


He wouldn't have to get up for another three hours, at least.


He sleepily grabbed at the kid's chest and fell asleep again before his mind would wake up enough to worry about the consequences.




Sans was woken up almost an hour later when a soft hand smacked his face.


"ow kid what the hell—!?" he said, jumping up.


Frisk was looking determinedly at him. "I've been trying to wake you up for the past ten minutes."


What? Was he late? Sans checked the time.


It was seven fifty-frigging-two AM and this was not amusing.


"kid, i don't know how helpful you think you are being but it is still insanely early for me and i—"


"It's still night-time," she told him, and for a moment all Sans could think was


What the fuck was she talking about?


"I owe you one, right? A bedtime story," the kid explained, and Sans' eye sockets widened in realization. Oh.




He couldn't help himself. He was still half-asleep and a bizarre hope bloomed in his chest when he asked "just a bedtime story?"


The hope died pretty fast. "Yes, just a bedtime story, you perv."


Sans groaned and smashed his face into the pillow. It was still too early, too early for this—he was so tired


A huff from the kid and he knew she was getting impatient. "Well do you want the bedtime story or not?"


"i am in bed," he said, and he put his hand around the kid's waist and pulled her closer to him. "i am awake," he said and he reveled on the way the kid looked mildly uncomfortable but didn't push him away. "lay it on me, kid."


The kid took a deep breath as if she was mustering up all her courage before she said in one breath, "I climbed Mount Ebott because I wanted to disappear."


That woke Sans up completely. His eye sockets shot up to inspect the kid as if she had suddenly said that she had broken into pieces. Was she okay—!? 


"Now, this was a long time ago," she reassured him, and it was bizarre to think that she was trying to reassure him, when he was pretty sure at this point it was supposed to be the other way around. "I was ten. I— I don't remember much anymore. I was ten. But I remember that I felt pretty lonely a lot. I was a loner in school. I didn't have any friends. And at home, my mom— Well, she didn't pay too much attention to me. She was always busy at work. She had a job that was pretty demanding. I didn't understand quite what it was that she did but it was something to do with marketing and she went to a lot of conferences. And my dad— Well, he wasn't around much."


Sans stayed quiet and tried hard not to notice how much like Daddy Issues that last bit of information sounded like.


"Anyway, I remember my dad was going to go camping to Mt Ebott with his family and my mom fought with him for days until he agreed to also take me. I remember mom needed a break; they always fought over her being the only one who took care of me.” The kid looked so dejected at that and Sans— maybe he shouldn’t have, but he planted a soft kiss on her neck and traced a soft line of magic up the kid’s back.

She rewarded him with a brief smile before continuing. “It was so awkward camping with them. Nobody ever climbs Mt Ebott, but at the base of the mountain there is a beautiful camping spot with many trails and a huge lake that goes on for miles, you would love it if you saw it. The place itself was absolutely gorgeous. But I hated being there. I don't get along well with dad's kids and his wife never liked that I was shy and odd and didn’t talk much. I think she thought I was too weird to be around her kids. Well... I guess I sort of was."

“you’re perfect,” Sans muttered, brushing his fingers against her soft hair. He was still tired but he was pressing her close to him and he was feeling like—


Getting to the surface.


And tracking these humans down.


Frisk was oblivious to his thoughts and continued, her hands now nervously playing with the fabric of Sans’ shirt. 

"So I was ten. This happened a long time ago, alright? I was ten and I was lonely and I was stuck with my dad and his perfect family for eight days and I guess I just felt like they didn't want me there, you know? The only reason I was there at all was because my mom guilt-tripped my dad into taking me. I wasn’t really spending time with anyone while I was there. I mostly kept to myself. And after a few days I started feeling like if I disappeared, no one would miss me. And then I got the sudden urge to climb Mt Ebott."

He kissed the skin under her ear and kissed her cheek and kissed her forehead and kissed the top of her head.


"And I guess looking back now maybe I climbed up there because I was supposed to. Like I was meant to fall down here for some reason, I don't know. I fell down, and now I don't know how many times I did fall down. It was probably a lot, right? You probably know a lot more about this than me.


“Anyway, that’s how I fell Underground—”


“why have you never told me any of this?” he asked her.

She gave a half-shrug. “This was years ago. I was ten. And I— I guess I don’t like talking about it.”


“kid, you deliberately fell down here. these are things that—”


Why had the other children fallen down?


“—that you should have told me about—”


Were they like Frisk? Had they just been lonely, like Frisk?


(Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter—It was already done done done and all their blood was on his hands and there was no reason why it should matter—)

“—i’m your friend, kiddo.”


And that was a lie, a huge fucking lieHe was not friends with this kid. He wanted to fuck her and use her and bind her to him


Whatever they had, it wasn’t a friendship. It maybe had never been. And he felt a twinge of pain for her in his chest because, if it weren’t for Papyrus—


If it weren’t for his brother, this kid would be friendless still.


And for some reason the kid was enamored with him.


He couldn’t even begin to deserve her.


And so he didn’t try. And that was maybe the problem.


In the end, it didn’t matter if he deserved her or not, because she had still willingly climbed into his bed. She was still reassured by his touch. He had crossed so many boundaries with her and had outright told her that he’d murdered her and she was still willing to be alone with him in his house, his room—


And that—that couldn’t be healthy. This kid wasn’t right. She was perfect, but she wasn’t—the way she perceived the world wasn’t quite—right.


He felt the sudden and irrational need to go to Toriel and ask for help because he was clueless as to what to do to make this kid snap out of whatever self-destructive mindset she was still clearly in.


Ten year-olds shouldn’t be climbing doom mountains for fuck’s sake. All the Souls he had collected had at least tried to run away or tried to fight back—


They hadn’t just—clung to him, as he killed them, like Frisk


She snapped him out of it. “I shouldn’t have told you this. You don’t look very happy.”

“i don’t know what to tell you, kid. tibia honest, i was expecting a nicer story. maybe a story that would explain why the RESETs are so connected to you. i wasn’t expecting you to be just—”


Just some lonely kid.


Just some lonely kid that he had taken advantage of, more than once. That he had forced his cock into, more than once.


He felt so disgusting and guilty and ashamed.


And his eyes still travelled more often than not down to her mouth, her chest—


He so badly wanted toshouldn’t wantshouldn’t have— this kid.

frisk—kiddo—you know i love you, right? i would do anything for you.”


And at that point laughter was the last thing he expected from the kid but then she laughed. “Hah—Sorry, I love you too, I’m just remembering—


“Have you ever noticed how none of the monsters down here scare me? I can usually tell that none of you mean me any harm.


“But well, before I left the Ruins, even after I met Flowey, I was terrified of you.”


He couldn’t answer to that and when he didn’t, she smiled knowingly at him in a way that unnerved him. “You don’t look surprised.”

He felt like he should apologize. “frisk, i—”

She cut him off. “You don’t owe me an explanation. Even inside the Ruins, I had nightmares of killing everyone. I understand it, now. But before, I was just terrified. I thought—I felt like I had to leave but I still stayed with Toriel for over a year, didn’t I? Did you notice that? Did it always take me that long to get out?”

Sans didn’t know what to say. “i think time kind of lost its meaning for me after the first hundred RESETs, kiddo.”


“I was afraid that you would kill me on sight,” she said, and it sounded like a very private confession. “You probably did, didn’t you?”


She squeezed one of his hands with both of hers. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. But Sans, when I finally gave in and left the Ruins and I met you, I was so scared. I wasn’t afraid when meeting anyone else but meeting you I was so scared. And then you did that thing with the whoopee cushion”—she laughed—“and you turned out to be such a nice and funny dork! I loved getting to know you. I love you. You turned out to be more than I could ever hope for.


"You are the greatest friend I've ever had.


"Even though—we're not really friends—are we? It hasn't felt that way in a while."

He looked reproachfully at her. “we are friends, kiddo.”


She stuck her tongue out at him. “Fine. We are friends. But we’re not friends like I’m friends with Papyrus or MonsterKid. Does that make sense?”


Sans resisted the urge to roll his eyes and groaned. Ugh fucking MonsterKid. “can’t you just not talk to me about that little friend of yours at eight in the freaking morning?”


She poked one of his ribs. “What do you so have against MK? I think you would like him—”




“—if you just gave him a chance.”



“You two and Papyrus are like the only three people I’m really friends with, you’re bound to hang out eventually. Papyrus was talking about inviting him to my ‘surprise’”—he almost forgave her when she actually shifted her body so that her hands could make air quotation marks—“birthday party.”


He felt so much disdain for that MonsterBrat and he didn’t know how to control it.

i don’t hang out with children,” he growled, and Frisk scoffed at that.


“He’s one year older than me!


Sans sat up. It wasn’t even nine in the morning, it was far too early for this shit.


He had the kid in his bed and at his mercy and she wouldn’t stop talking about this fucking other kid.

And he was really starting to feel like just shutting her up with his dick.


“kid, if you start this with me right now this is not going to end well for you.”


Frisk rolled her eyes. “I am not ‘starting’ anything—”


“you are starting this. you do not just crawl into a man’s bed and start talking to him about this other boy you like—”


Her face went as red as ketchup and Sans really - didn’t - like that. “I do not like him. Is that what Mom told you!? We’re just friends—”

“i do not want him and you to be ‘friends’,” he told her and she scoffed. “he clearly has other intentions for you. if you think you can be ‘just friends’ with this fucking kid, you are more naïve than i thought you were.”


“He said we could be just friends, and I believe him,” she argued. “I’m not about to lose a friend just because you’re jealous—”


listen, little girl, that’s enough. get off my bed and back downstairs before you piss me off into doing something we’ll both regret.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she told him, eyes glaring at him stubbornly as her cheeks flushed. “I’m sick and tired of arguing about MonsterKid, this is ridiculous—”

And then her soul went blue and he threw her off the fucking bed


She landed right by his bedroom door and she looked furious and she looked—




And he wanted to just slam her into the ground with his magic and fuck the shit out of her.


get out,” he told her brusquely and his eye glowed blue.


She refused to move but her hands were shaking. “You are such a jealous asshole.”


Language,” he hissed at her, and he knew that he was being a hypocrite but she was thirteen and he was not going to be raising a potty mouth


Not that he was raising Frisk—!! God-fucking-DAMMIT, Toriel!

And then she crossed her hands over her chest stubbornly and shifted her hips and glared at him, and it was like something suddenly snapped into place in his head and he knew what was going on.


He knew exactly what she was doing.


And he wasn’t about to fall for it, but shit




“you want me to fuck you, don’t you,” he told her, and it was very likely that she didn’t know that’s what she wanted, but all signs pointed that she did. He was as enthralled by the sudden opportunity as he was horrified; this wasn’t supposed to happen


She was pissing him off like she had yesterday and she was taunting and she was vulnerable and he had been so close to fucking her yesterday, she had been so, so turned on for him yesterday—


He had inadvertently so rewarded her shitty behavior yesterday—


And it was wrong. Whatever he was doing to her was clearly messing with this kid.


She wasn’t supposed to invite him like this.


And as soon as he said it, her face went red and she looked mortified and it was very likely, knowing Frisk, that she was temporarily unable to speak.


Probably wouldn’t even be able to scream and he sort of wanted to find out


And she still wasn’t leaving and she was like a deer caught in the headlights and it would be easy—so easy—to just pull her back to him with his magic.


It would be so easy to just give in and fuck her, he had been so wanting to, and if she also wanted it—


She wasn’t even fourteen.


“kiddo, you need to leave. you have no idea what you are asking for," he told her, and his voice was stern but he was frantic and he was excited and he was scared and horny and—


And she wasn't going to leave. She was clearly frozen into place, like he was. And she was probably going through the same mixed feelings as he was, wasn't she, the same temptation, the same anxiety... The same horror and fear and excitement because they both wanted to do it, so who was going to stop them then?


"shit, kid—i don't want—i shouldn't—"and then he screamed at the top of his lungs like he was desperate for someone to save them—"PAPYRUS!!!!!"


And in less than ten seconds, his brother barged in, spatula in hand and screaming heroic nonsense at an unknown nonexistent aggressor, and the kid's eyes were as wide as saucers as she threw herself at Papyrus, her face was deathly pale and she was shaking and sobbing with fear or adrenaline—


She looked like she was as horrified by her own lust as Sans was.



They didn't see much of each other again for a long time.

Chapter Text

Sans cussed for the third time that hour working by hand on that fucking graph.


He hated working on paper. Sans really wished he hadn't given his computer to Pap during the last "nothing matters, fuck science!" phase he went through. Sure, Papyrus loved his new computer, but without that machine Sans was—


Well, he was pretty much fucking useless as a scientist. Especially when he'd also sacrificed his only working calculator to a prank on Grillby.

It had been so worth it, though, to see Grillby trying to understand how a basket of fries and two bottles of ketchup ended up costing 1,000,000 G according to his calculator. So worth it and so funny, at the time.


It was looking significantly less funny now.


And now here was Sans, and Sans needed—


He so badly fucking needed to figure out if there was a mathematical way to predict the next RESET. He couldn't rest until he knew if it was possible. He'd woken up that morning with the sudden urge to find out if there was a hidden equation somewhere in the data that he could use and—


And fuck, so far he wasn't finding one. And fuck, he missed Frisk.


It was sick and bizarre how he had resorted to keeping his mind off of the kid by instead studying her. Sicker and more bizarre still that he would do so after he'd spent the night fantasizing about having his dick inside the fucking kid.


He was obsessed with the Anomaly—with Frisk. Clearly. But he couldn't find a way to make himself stop.


And he knew he was grasping at straws here. Living beings were hardly predictable as far as predictable things went. But still, if there was a chance at a way to mathematically predict RESETS— And he was doing a pretty shoddy job, really, as far as being specific went—


But fuck it.


Oh, she'd lasted six days until the next RESET back in May? Close enough to ten. Fuck it, he did not have a calculator, and he was a physicist for fuck's sake, not a mathematician. Rough estimates would do if it meant it simplified the arithmetic.


But anyway, precise or not, the graph was turning out to look pretty fucking unusable and also a pain in the ass.


And the data in the graph did not turn out to be linear but maybe—


Maybe, if he squinted


Fuck. It was not ever going to be goddamn exponential either.


Sans resisted the urge to tear his graph into pieces because fuck it, he'd gotten this far. Might as well finish the stupid thing and hang it on the wall for future reference.


Not that hanging it on the wall would matter, once the timeline fucking RESET. It was bound to happen. He was not constantly there with the kid anymore to keep her from whatever fuckery fourteen year-old humans got into when there weren't any grown-ass skeletons around to supervise.


And she was fourteen years old now. He still couldn't believe he had gone through with missing the kid's birthday party, twice, in two separate fucking timelines. He still felt a pang of guilt when he remembered the pictures Papyrus had shown him afterwards and he saw the kid standing next to the snail cake.


The snail cake he had promised to save the kid from, God knew how many timelines ago. But what could he do?


He had so badly wanted to fuck her that day. You know, as her birthday present— to him


And the kid had looked so tired in those pictures, the first time. So tired and just smiling with a smile that never quite reached her eyes; he wondered if anyone else had noticed. And the second time around—after that first fucking RESET—she had looked more tired still.


Sans assumed she wasn't sleeping well due to her nightmares. And at first, Sans had felt sympathetic—but then the world RESET again a few weeks after that


And now, he was feeling slightly less sympathetic. Now, he just wanted to find a way to stop, or delay, or even at the very least reliably predict the RESETs.


And lately he had been fighting the urge to just kill her himself and get it over with. He was so fucking tired of always being on edge, constantly waiting for and never knowing when there would be another RESET. And wouldn't it be nice, wouldn't it be a sweet bonus, if he forced himself into her one more time before that happened? Wouldn’t it be justified if he fucked her again before he killed her and relieved some of the goddamn stress he felt, every fucking day now, because the kid seemed incapable of keeping herself the fuck alive?


He still hadn't found out what it was like to have his come forced down her throat.


Not that he hadn't i m a g i n e d it. Multiple times.


But no. No, he couldn't do that to Frisk—not again—and still the graph wasn't fucking predictable, what a fucking waste of a free afternoon. 


The RESETs just happened left and right with little reason other than the fact that the kid had died.


Could there at least be a way to force her to SAVE more often? She was making him relive almost entire weeks at a time. It was exhausting.


He could probably kill her enough times to find out if he could make the kid accelerate the frequency of the SAVEs. He could also probably take advantage of the circumstances each time. And he so wanted to find out: How many times until killing her got boring? How many times until the sex got boring?


It would be a kindness, really, to just fuck her and kill her over and over until he got done with whatever this obsession and lust for her was. Maybe if he stopped being so tempted by her, he could make sure to never steal her innocence again.


But then a chill went down his spine whenever he considered the possibility of the kid remembering, in the next timeline, whatever he gave in and did to her. And he wanted to do so much to her—


She'd never forgive him.


They'd be forced to stop being— whatever they were— because she would never forgive him. She would no longer want to be— be what? friends?


He was not this kid's fucking friend. He wanted—he neededso much more from her.


And so did she, if their last altercation was proof of anything.


Sans still didn't know what might have happened if Papyrus hadn't been home to intervene. If Pap hadn't barged in like that, if he hadn't yelled at Sans to cease whatever prank he suspected Sans was pulling on the kid and hadn't dragged the crying child away from Sans' bedroom and spent the rest of the morning with the kid—


He had been so close to giving in that day. He had been so tempted.


He had tried so hard to resist the urge to slam into her again and leave her a broken shell just like he had the last timeline he had killed her.


And if Papyrus hadn't been around, would he have done it? The kid had been—receptive. But he could hardly fault her for being curious.


Sans was far from a biologist. The squishy sciences had never really interested him as much as math and physics did. But he had gathered enough from human anime, and from his conversations with Toriel, to know that the Frisk he was currently dealing with was probably a mess of hormones


And he had been so fucking irritated when those hormones manifested themselves in the form of irritable moodiness but he had never expected


Not even in his wildest dreams had he ever thought her teenage hormones meant she might grow to want him, too, the same way that he wanted her.


Or maybe not the same way, not exactly. The kid had turned fourteen recently but she was still fourteen, for fucks sakes. She didn't know


She really didn't know what she had been asking for, that time she roused him and teased him and refused to leave his room. And Sans was dying to teach her, show her just what it was she’d been asking for, just what exactly it was that she wanted from Sans.


And he had been needlessly rough before, had been impatient, he had been so eager to enter her in those timelines he'd had her by force but he was sure that,


If she wanted it,


If she was going to remember it,


He could be good, he could be patient, he could be gentle


He could be so good to her and she would love it. She would love fucking him. She would love him.


He so desperately wanted her to love him, really love him, not a crush, not some childish infatuation,


Not some innocent puppy love he could take as much advantage of as he already had.


But she was a kid and it was so unfair of him, wasn't it, to want something from her that she couldn't give, something that not even he could give because he loved her, yes, but he was


a sadistic, jealous and controlling asshole and she was barely into her teens, she was essentially a child


And he loved her but did he, really? Did he love her for her or loved the fact that she sometimes seemed to remember him?


Did he love her because he was lonely, because he felt so alone in this mess of timelines, or did he really love the way she spoke—


Her quiet voice


The way she smiled when she saw him and looked at him like he was the most amazing man in the world to her, like he was the moon and—


God, how long it had taken for her to open up to him, and how worth it the wait had been. Her pretty laugh and her silly jokes and the way she loved and accepted him and how she truly cared about Sans and Papyrus, and just—


She was just—


She was so good, so kind—she was too good, too kind, too perfect—for him.


He could be the world's last living being and she would still not be meant for him.


And she was such a gentle and merciful soul, and he was— he often tried hard not to think what he was. He was covered in blood and in sin and in the rancid bile that were his thoughts toward her and in the loneliness of the fucking timelines and the desperation of the RESETs and he was just—


Just a worthless, lonely, desperate and pathetic excuse of a man and she—


She was just too good for him. He was just not meant for her.


This was all just too depressing.


He loved her and he tried so hard, for her sake, not to love her.


He focused instead on studying again the data he'd gathered about the SAVEs. It was so tedious and distracting and he needed tedious, he needed distracting.


He didn't find anything useful and all his thoughts kept wondering back to her.




One day he woke up to a blinding pain and his skull being ripped in half. He didn’t know what day it was.


His skull was splitting open or at least, that's what it felt like. A rush of memories was forced into him and he knew at once that he had gone through another RESET. Useless memories from a dead timeline were cramming into his very being and it just felt like he didn't have enough space in his head for them, like there couldn't be any room in his skull for them


And so the space was carved into his mind with a sharp stabbing sensation and there was little he could do to reassure himself that at least the carving sensation he felt wasn't real.


He was in so much pain he felt nauseous.


And he could barely thinkhow could he!? But through all the pain there was the worry because the kid had clearly died again, shit, shit— And was she okay now and why the fuck had she died again—


Frisk! That little fucker—!


Couldn't she just stay alive for more than five fucking seconds!?


He felt the guilt as soon as his mind snapped at her, and then he felt worse.


His cellphone light was flashing. The kid had texted him.



He vaguely recalled her having had done so in the last timeline too. Was today his last… Wednesday?

Ugh, he’d fucking hated Wednesday.


This had been the fifth time in— he couldn't exactly count them in weeks. This had been the fifth RESET, the kid’s fifth death, since he and the kid had almost fucked. And she hadn’t left Snowdin—Sans had made sure of that—the kid hadn’t left this town, where no one would harm her and everyone knew her. So Sans was beginning to suspect that even this kid couldn't be this fucking clumsy. Even this kid couldn't be so very unlucky that she would die, five times in a month, in some freak accidents.


And it was starting to look like the RESETs were fucking intentional.


She was probably killing herself and Sans was furious.


He would have to have a word with this fucking kid.




He was still furious when he went to her and yet seeing her again, sleeping soundly under the trees by the lake, felt like running into a part of him that he didn't know he'd been missing— the best part.


And of course it wasn't like he hadn't seen her around after they'd nearly fucked. It seemed to him like they had both been actively avoiding each other, but Snowdin wasn't that big of a town, their paths were bound to sometimes cross.


It's just that every time he had seen her around, in those very rare and stressful times he couldn't avoid being within a few feet of her, Sans had always pretended not to see her and, after a while, she'd stopped trying to get his attention.


They hadn't talked since Papyrus dragged her out of his room and Sans had decided to head to Grillby's for an early breakfast. He hadn't called her, hadn't texted her, hadn't tried to contact her in any way or invited her to spend time with him—


And still, occasionally, she gave in and texted him, like she had that morning. And it was mostly just inane messages, just meaningless texts that wouldn’t even warrant a reply weren’t for the fact that they were from her. And it was still painful to force himself not to text her back, yet he never did reply to her.


He hadn’t so much as acknowledged her presence in weeks and it had been so difficult.


He still had an unheard voicemail from her, saved on his cellphone, from that time she had tried calling him in the middle of the night. He'd never answered her. He’d never opened the message. Yet he hadn’t deleted it either.


But now, seeing her was different, different than running into her because he needed to talk to this kid now and she—


God, seeing her just took his breath away.


He tied his overwhelming love for her into a little knot deep within his chest. He couldn't feel—couldn't love—shouldn't so badly want—this kid.


He took a deep breath and thanked his lucky stars that the children who had been previously swimming in the water were finally leaving, but at the same time he felt frantic.


He was all alone with her now.


They would be able to talk now without being overheard, but—


But now, should he choose to do anything, there was nobody around to stop him anymore, was there? 


He took a deep breath.


His voice came out deep and cold and he tried hard to focus on how necessary that was. "kid, i've got a bone to pick with you."


He hated himself when her eyes sprung to life immediately and she looked at him adoringly and quickly got up and ran to him and exclaimed "Sans!!"


And he had to force himself to push her off with an effortless wave of blue magic before she got close enough to hug him.


"don't touch me. this is not a friendly visit, kid," he told her and her face fell.


He felt like such a fucking worthless piece of shit and his resolve started to waver.


Better make this quick.


"the world RESET today," he told her, and he tried hard not to feel for her as she looked at him with a face that said her heart was breaking. "we went back a whole week. i'd sure like to know why, since it's the fifth time this month."


The kid looked slightly panicky as she suddenly shrugged her shoulders, her eyes focusing on the ground in front of him and her arms wrapping nervously around her chest., And he felt guilty that he was doing this to her but at the same time was resenting being given the silent treatment and—


And great, so she was going back to not talking to him just because he was no longer acting like her friend? Great. That was just as well.


He wouldn't have to listen to her fucking appealing voice this way.


 "you don't remember why it happened," he guessed, and when the kid nodded Sans took a frustrated hand to his temple. "of course you don't. you're still not remembering the RESETs?"


Frisk shook her head. It was like talking to an eleven year-old Frisk fresh out of the Ruins again.


He was angry and worried and—


"wanna know what i think, kiddo? i think you've been purposefully killing yourself. how likely do you think that might be?"


She looked up to him at that and her eyes were wide as saucers. Did she look surprised because she truly was surprised or—?


Suddenly he couldn't take the silence and her shyness anymore.


"for heaven's sake, kiddo. i know you can speak. talk to me."


The kid frantically shook her head and averted her gaze and Sans—


Sans felt a frantic and desperate need to hold her close and tie her back to him.


Frisk was— she wasn’t comfortable with him— but she was his kid


A desperately hidden, shameful part of him really thought of her as his kid no matter how much he fought Toriel on it. No matter how much he fought himself because he still wanted his dick inside of her, didn't he? How sick and disgusting was that?


How sick and disgusting was he that he could love this kid as if she were his own and still he—


He still let his eyes wander down to her chest.


She had grown a bit taller since the last time he'd really looked at her, even with the lack of sun. Toriel would be so relieved to learn that the kid was growing. And a certain relief washed over him and a sort of pride welled on his chest, too, but then he looked at the way the kid's chest had filled out slightly, how her baggy sweater couldn't fully conceal her shape anymore and he—


It had been a while, hadn't it, since he'd fucked her last and felt up her chest.


He felt the sick want to see just how much she had grown and it was exciting, somehow, to know if he had her now she would be slightly different from before, more mature, more developed. And maybe he was just feeling a morbid curiosity, but he—


He couldn't believe he was thinking this rancid shit, as the kid stood heartbroken and tired-looking in front of him.


She did something with her hands and although Frisk had once tried to teach him sign language, that had been so long ago that he could only make out the word "sorry".


He took a deep, steadying breath. "kid— just talk. we have spoken so many times before."


And then her voice finally came out, and she sounded so quiet and hesitant and so obviously uncomfortable talking to him that he almost went to her and shook her and hugged her and—


"I don't think… I've died on purpose. I mean... Maybe. Sorry, if I did. I've just been so tired."


And he wanted to be angry because that was as good a confession as any


"kid, if you're having nightmares—"


And then she looked at in in a way that bizarrely resembled that time she was twelve and he'd asked her if she was still into Magic Girl Z despite the fact that apparently she hadn’t watched that anime in months ("Oh my god, Sans, no way! Magic Girl Z is for little kids!").


"What? No, I— The nightmares are... I'm used to those. It's Flowey."


It was like a thousand sharp knives had suddenly sliced through him. Flowey? The flower?


He had forgotten all about that fucking psychotic flower.


And he couldn't think straight for a moment. "kid— why didn't you—" and then he stopped himself.


He hadn't exactly made himself available for her to tell him about the flower, had he?


He felt like— Like he'd really betrayed her. Somehow.


And he couldn't let himself just go to her.


"can't you make it stop?" he asked her.


And then suddenly she bit her lower lip and her cheeks went scarlet and she looked just so incredibly guilty, and she whispered "I've tried."


Sans wrecked his mind trying to figure out exactly what was going on that she looked like that, like she had—


Like she had done something, and fuck— Had she killed anyone, the fucking kid, because he'd—


She seemed to read his mind because she suddenly blurted out "I haven't— I don't listen to Flowey. I won't do what he wants. It will be fine. I'll be fine. I'm just tired."


And he was so, so suspicious of her but he dropped it, for now.


He knew how to RESET the timeline if she fucked up anyhow.


And he just wanted to leave suddenly before he did something, before they did something, because he so badly missed her and he—


She caught him looking for an exit and read his mind accurately enough that she knew that he wanted to get away from her.


"Um. Wow. Do you really hate me that much?"


A pang of guilt and he whispered. "i don't hate you, kid."


"Really? Because you hadn't even spoken two words to me since you"—she blushed a deep shade of red—“Um. Since we last spoke like two months ago. And now you’re suddenly here talking to me and all you care about is that I don’t RESET?"


“it’s not just that—”

Her voice broke. “Yeah, I guess you’re also worried that I might hug you. I’ve missed you, you asshole. I—


God, you’re such a jerk—

He took a shortcut out of there like a coward before her crying got seared into his brain.

And he knew that he’d fucked up, he knew that he’d just left Frisk to another potential RESET, but he didn’t know how to fix it.

Chapter Text

It had been a very long time since Sans had shed tears but this time, for her, he did.

Crying tears was never a good sign for a skeleton. Bones didn't have tear ducts. Tears usually meant an emotional manifestation of haywire magic, magic that could barely be controlled and kept in the body, and this time, after having teleported back to his workshop, Sans' magic was really out of control.

The entire fucking workshop went blue and he didn’t know how to stop it.

He was a mess. The kid probably hated him. Sans had never before felt so low and so cowardly, running away from her in this way.

And how could he have ever fucking thought that disappearing from the kid’s life was a good idea when she had implicitly told him that she had climbed up a mountain to die when she was lonely and ten.

Sans felt like a complete and utter failure as a friend, as a guardian—

As— whatever on Earth he was to Frisk

And when he let himself fall to the floor and he sobbed, at first, he was sobbing for Frisk. He cried for the lonely girl he had left. But then, as things usually went when his emotions spiraled too deep and out of control, when he indulged too much in his self-pity, he started sobbing for other things as well, for other timelines—

For Gaster, who was gone and was no longer remembered by anyone but him.

For whom he assumed had been his friends and coworkers, the people in his pictures who had vanished too and whom he couldn't for the life of him now remember, despite his desperate attempts not to forget.

For himself, because he really should have been absorbed by the timespace too—but instead he had been left behind and was so lonely instead, trapped in this horrible world of conscious RESETs—

And he cried for the four fucking children who had died by his hand over and over and whose deaths he hadn't dared pity or regret—And for whomever fucking else he had killed and no longer remembered, because his LOVE was too high for just four lives, it was simply too high for just four but he—couldn’t—remember

And god, what a fucking miserable existence. He hoped to god that Frisk never did remember anything, because she would only suffer, too, and she didn’t deserve this. He had been so selfish to want her to descend with him into this pitiful hell of RESETs in the hopeful desperation of no longer being alone, of having anyone suffering with him in the same way as he did—

And of course it didn't matter because, if she hadn't hated him before, she certainly did now.

Nothing mattered, in the end. No matter how hard he tried, not even without a fucking RESET to erase it all, nothing—mattered

And so he didn't—fucking—try.

The broken machine he had stored here whirred to life with his magic but Sans paid no mind to it, it didn’t work anyway.

Nothing Sans ever did seemed to work. Nothing Sans ever did was a success.

He thought with bitterness that he should have at least told Frisk how he felt about her, before she hated him.

His love was dirty and gross and worthless and pitiful but it was still a sort of love, and he felt it for her.

He felt so bad for everything he'd done to her and still he felt like he couldn't win.

There was no right thing to do in this scenario. Either he continued to avoid her and abandon a lonely child to the mercy of a sick, psychotic flower or he could crawl back to her and go back to having the kid under his fucked up version of mercy—if she still even wanted him.

And frankly, he didn't know which one was worse for Frisk. On one hand, she had died five times in the mere months he’d stayed away from her. On the other hand—he had tortured and murdered her hundreds of times more than that and had even raped the kid twice.

And he knew he had been fantasizing about doing that again. He knew he was going to, eventually— if he only found an excuse.

An excuse like the fact that there was still so much he didn't know about the SAVEs and the RESETs. So many things he could research and experiment, and most of the research he had tentatively considered involved killing Frisk.

And how sick was he, that killing Frisk was now essentially intertwined with raping Frisk. There was no way he would miss an opportunity of doing that again, if an opportunity was presented to him. She had felt so good, so unbelievably good, when he was inside of her, and he knew he’d felt so low and guilty afterwards but still he really, really wanted to feel her wrapped tightly around his cock again.

And so remaining alone and at the hands of that fucking flower was the best option for Frisk. Clearly.

And what did it say about him that even he, through all his lust and his obsession, agreed with that?

But still, when Frisk had seen him— There was still love for him in her, Sans knew it, and he was so afraid to snuff it out. So reluctant. He was so selfish.

He should have just told her how he felt, even if she was never going to want to see him again.

He should have just told her how he felt about her because he had nothing to losebut she did.

She did have the world to lose and so he should not, ever, be alone with that kid again.

And so his workshop stayed blue and he hid from the world and he hated himself.

Then night came, and he knew he couldn't go through with it.

He couldn't just let Frisk stay alone with that fucking flower.

And so he focused his magic and he found her just outside of Grillby's. He left the workshop he had been miserable in.

He found her and she had just been standing there when he approached.

She looked like she had been waiting for someone.

"frisk," he called her, and he couldn't help but notice how her eyes went as wide as saucers and came to life when she saw him. She blushed.

He so loved it when she blushed.

"Sans? What are you—"

He cut her off. "like i could ever really let you spend the night alone with that psycho flower. kid, do you want to stay at my place?"

The kid hesitated. Her blush deepened. "Um."

"we can both crash on the couch. look, i'm sorry. i'm sorry i disappeared like that. kiddo, i—"

"Sans," she looked mortified. "Sans, I'd love to, but I— I'm waiting for a friend right now."

And he was startled for the longest moment before bitterness and jealousy spewed out of him at once and he knew, he knew why she had looked so fucking guilty before by the fucking lake.

"Monsterkid," he said, lights leaving his eye sockets, and his tone carried so much accusation that she shifted uncomfortably where she stood.

And Sans hadn't expectedfor Frisk to be such a fucking whore.

He almost told her so.

"It's not what you think," she quickly told him, and now Sans was pretty fucking sure it was exactly what he thinks. "We just— I fell asleep watching a movie with him the other day, and Flowey didn't come, and I thought—"

"you thought you could use him like you used me, right, now that you can’t crawl into my bed?"

Her cheeks flushed scarlet. "No! It isn't like that."

"no, i get it," he said, and it was pretty fucking funny how in control he was of his magic as he made the world around them suddenly stop. Time-stopping was such a neat and convenient trick. "and here i was still feeling guilty that we'd almost fucked whatever timelines ago that was. but really, i should have just done it, because you'd fuck anyone, won't you?"

She gave a loud shriek as he suddenly appeared right in front of her and took his hands to her shoulders and pushed. Suddenly, they weren't in front of Grillby's anymore— they were in her hiding spot and the kid fell to the ground. Sans hoped that it hurt, Sans hoped that it really fucking hurt, because he would make her remember—

He would make her remember everything he’d done to her here even if he had to pound the memories into her.

And maybe he was digging his grave but at that moment, he didn't care. He got on top of her and held her down by the neck, just like he'd always wanted

He was going to be rough and cruel and bad just like he'd always wanted

And of course the kid grabbed at his hand currently holding her down by the throat, and it was hilarious, because she was so weak, she had always been so fucking unimpressive and there was no way that she could stop him from literally fucking her to death.

Sans couldn’t help it then. He laughed as he squeezed her throat, it was so funny how easy it all could be. "you know, if you struggle, that's all the more fun for me."

And then she stopped moving pretty much immediately and Sans couldn’t help but laugh harder. This was— really fucking funny. Another fucking death at his hands and this time hell if he wasn’t g o i n g  t o  e n j o y  i t. He was so angry, so jealous— He was so sick of always being the fucking murderer but he was going to teach this little kid just what exactly it was that LOVE could do

He let go of her neck and pinned her hands down to the sides of her head with both of his. "you’re going to die. so, confession time: how many times have you done this with your little friend, kiddo?"

"What—!? Sans— I haven’t— Please, please just let me go— You don’t have to do this, just please, please—"

And then she started crying, and it was clear he’d gone too far over nothing, and what was he doing?

Was he really going to do this shit, again, to a fucking kid? Did he really have a right to get this angry and jealous over a fucking kid?

He loosened his grip on her hands and her cries slowed down somewhat but he didn't let go.

"why even meet with him?" he asked her, and he sounded so frustrated even to his own ear drums. "you know how i feel about you with him. kid, no matter when i found out— this was bound to happen, so why—"

"You weren't around," Frisk said, and through the tears she sounded angry and accusing and— "And Papyrus lives with you, I couldn’t stay with him. MK— He's the only friend I have left, and he offered, and FloweyI just needed one night away from Flowey, okay!? "

And she looked so angry, so defensive and pathetic and pissed, that Sans almost lost his nerve and rolled off of her but instead his grip on her tightened again and he cussed—


And then he kissed her.

Her lips tasted salty from her tears but they felt so soft against his magic that he would have forgiven her even if she hadn't managed to push her knee against him. Would have forgiven her even if he hadn't let go of her when she kneed him only for her to use her freed hands to pull him back by the front of his coat and kissed him.

And he couldn’t believe it. She felt so good.

"You are such a jealous asshole," she told him and again with the language, who had even taught her such a word? He rarely cursed in front of her and Papyrus— “You’re a real monster, do you know that? I wish I could hate you, you jerk, but you—”

He shut her up with his tongue down her throat. And god, this time she actually responded, each time was just a little bit different with her and she—her mouth tasted amazing and she wrapped her hands around his neck, pulling him to her and

This felt completely unbelievable.

He felt his hands wander down to her hips, leaving thick trails of magic down every bit of skin he could touch. He was so wanting her. And then she started squirming under him, and her breathing got heavy—and when he pulled his tongue away from her she moaned his name against his mouthhe wanted to see how hard she might want it—and she owed him, didn’t she, for what she’d tried to do with her little friend—

He had to teach her a lesson

This had to hurt her, and he might eventually allow her to enjoy it but at first this had to hurt

This had to stop.

He pulled himself away from her and had to actually hold her back by the wrists when she attempted to pull him back to her again. "stop, stop— i don't want to— mess things up— i'm happy, kid, i'm really happy with this but i'm still angry and—"

And he really didn't want to discontinue another timeline but he wanted to punish her and fuck her brains out and he—

And he was weak. He tried looking for an excuse. "what do you want out of this? how far do you want to go?"

She looked at him with such confusion that he knew at once he shouldn't have asked a question like that to a fucking teenager.

"Like, if I want to— date? I don't know. I never really thought we would get this far," she admitted, and of course she fucking hadn't.

He pressed his forehead against hers and let out a small groan, he felt so frustrated. "no, little girl. i'm asking you if you want to fuck."

She flushed a deep scarlet and her eyes went wide. "Oh. Um—"

And the answer was no, it was clearly no, and he couldn’t believe he would have to actually help her spell it out.

He felt like he was cockblocking himself.

"this is the part where you say no," he told her, and it  r e a l l y  took a lot of effort to have told her. "because kid, i'm really close— and you don't want to, trust me, not like thisnot like i want to right now and certainly not in here."

And it was like the kid suddenly realized that she was being pinned against cold, damp rock. She took in her surroundings and the want she had previously shown for him visibly diminished somewhat, but she didn’t tell him not to—not right away—

He was getting frantic. "for the love of asgore-fucking-dreemur, little girl, tell me to stop or you’re getting a dick inside of you right-fucking-now."

And perhaps it was the combined effect of his swearing and his angry desperation but finally she tensed up and shrieked "Okay!!! Stop!!" And that was the last push he needed to finally roll off of her.

He took several deep, steadying breaths. He was so horny and so angry but he needed this kid to remember this, he needed her to—

He wanted her to remember she'd kissed him back this time, twice. That she’d pulled him to her.

That he'd been good.

That he hadn'tforced her, like last time.

Even though he was still pretty fucking pissed about her goddamn little friend.

"so you're staying the night at my place, right?" he asked her, and he couldn't contain the hint of possessive jealousy. "not in my bed. but we can crash on the couch."

She sat up at that. "Shit! I forgot about Monsterkid!"

"kid, please don't swear," Sans told her through gritted teeth, taking a hand to cover his eye sockets in an effort to not obsess over how appealing she still looked. And he was a hypocrite, but— "your mother would never forgive me if i raised you into a potty mouth."

There was a silent pause and then when he checked on her she was staring at him, eyes wide with horror and disgust. Sans groaned and took both of his hands to cover his face. "yeah, that sounded fucking wrong to me, too. shit. just don't cuss, kiddo. you’re fourteen."

"I think— I think you should probably stop talking now,” Frisk told him, and if she sounded uncomfortable, so-did-fucking-he. “Can you just take me back to Grillby's? I need to talk to MK. I'm not sleeping over at his place, but he's probably so worried—"

Sans laughed. "kid, i stopped time ages ago. nobody's waiting for you."

"Um— What!?"

"i didn't want us to be overheard, i was going to— just, ah— never mind, i can take you back," he said, and he offered her a hand and, out of habit, winked. "i know a shortcut."

She took her hand and Sans squeezed it. Her hand was so soft, he felt possessive of it and of her, and so he said, while at the cave, “oh, and kid—"

—and suddenly, they were standing in front of Grillby's, and it was night and there weren't many monsters out but Sans noticed the wonder in the kid's face when she finally noticed that the entire world had been frozen in time by his magic, he had impressed her. He pulled her into a hug and kissed her soft lips one last time before the world moved again and he continued. "and kid, say goodbye to monsterkid tonight, because you aren't seeing him anymore."

She got upset with him at that and tried to push him away as she indignantly said "He's my friend!"

"maybe," Sans admitted, voice casual and light, and he held her in place. He leaned down to kiss her neck and after doing so moved his grinning mouth to her ear. "B u t  y o u ' r e  m i n e ."

And then suddenly he was standing feet away from her again and the world had started moving. He loved the pretty blush that colored her face. And maybe he was being irrational and maybe he was being possessive—but he didn’t care. He grinned at her and would have waved had his hands not been deep inside his pockets. "see you soon, kiddo. i’ll go tell pap to expect a visitor."

And he left her to say goodbye to her fucking friend and he wondered what terrible anime they could watch together. Not in his room, but on the couch.

On the couch, out in the living room, they should be fine. And it wasn’t like now he couldn’t touch her,

Or k i s s her.

And Sans was pleased—he was very pleased—by this development.

He couldn't wait.

Chapter Text

He settled on watching Nectarine Girl with Frisk and Papyrus after a very long and annoying text chat with Alphys. That choice proved to be a huge mistake.

The kid turned out to love this… insufferable anime.

She couldn’t be pulled away from it.

And of course Papyrus loved it too. Sans was in hell. This was complete hell.

It was the worst animation and the worst voice acting and the silliest plot Sans had ever seen, and he had seen some terrible animes.

And yet, despite the terrible anime, Sans felt pretty content. Papyrus hadn't given Sans much grief for only just now inviting the kid over after spendingweeks apart ("I AM GLAD YOU TWO FINALLY SETTLED YOUR DIFFERENCES, BROTHER! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, KNEW YOU TWO COULD BECOME CLOSE FRIENDS AGAIN!!"). And Frisk— he hadn't had to actually go and drag the kid here, like Sans had been prepared to do. The kid had gone up to his house all on her own and she had looked so miserable when he answered the door that Sans knew at once she'd said goodbye to her stupid little friend, finally— she was his.

And now the kid was sitting on his lap. His arm held her to him by the waist.


And things could be better. Papyrus could be gone and he could be inside of Frisk. But this was pretty good, too. This was just fine.

This was all he should have, really. Just a nice time with Frisk and Papyrus. No time alone with Frisk. No sex. Not even the remote chance of screwing things up (heh) with sex.

No irrational jealousy over fucking Monsterkid because that stupid armless brat was out of the picture, finally.

“alright, papyrus, it’s your bedtime,” Sans said after the fifth terrible episode of Nectarine Girl ended. Holy crap, what complete garbage that anime was. He was so done.

Papyrus and Frisk both protested pretty much immediately. 

“What!? Noooo!”


“Come on, Sans! Just the last one?”

“I’M NOT EVEN TIRED!” followed by a poorly-timed yawn.

Sans couldn’t help but chuckle at them both. Junkies. “it’s wednesday, pap, that means work tomorrow. you have be up bright an early. unless you’d rather sleep in and not cook breakfast…”

Frisk’s eyes lit up at that, but her hope was short-lived. Papyrus pretty much immediately rejected the idea. “BUT I MUST COOK BREAKFAST TOMORROW! THIS IS THE FIRST TIME THAT THE HUMAN HAS SLEPT OVER IN WEEKS! SHE MUST BE CRAVING MY BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI! NYEH HEH HEH!”

Sans had to stifle a sincere laugh when he saw Frisk’s face falling at that.

Then Papyrus ran to the bathroom to brush his teeth and as soon as the bathroom door closed—





He threw her off his lap and pinned her to the couch, pressing himself firmly against her. His mouth was instantly on hers— harsh and desperate flutters of his magic pressed against her lips. And he had been so waiting for this, he had been so wanting this moment— and then, after a short pause, Frisk responded

Her lips moved against his magic and Sans was in heaven.

He felt a need to touch every single inch of her skin and so he moved his hands under her shirt and rubbed his magic into her skin and there was no resistance from her, no grief—

Only the smallest, tiniest hint of guilt

And this wasn’t sex. And she loved him. And Papyrus was bound to come out of the bathroom soon and stop them from getting too far and he—

He grinded his pelvis against her hips.

He shoved his tongue down the kid’s throat.

And she was so eager to respond to him, she was probably so wet and ready for him. He wanted to keep going, he wanted to force his cock inside of her and wouldn’t it be nice, wouldn’t it be perfect, if this time he didn’t have to force anything at all?

The bathroom door opened and Sans suddenly teleported himself upstairs.

“you ready, pap?” he winked, grinning wide as he tried hard to control his breathing.

And perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea, to have the kid crash on the couch.

He caught her watching the next episode of Nectarine Girl by herself when he finally came downstairs. She looked very tired, but completely engrossed by whatever stupid thing the nectarine girl was saying.

“no way, kid,” he told her, taking away the remote and stopping the anime despite Frisk’s loud complaints. “my brother would kill me if he found out i let you keep watching this show without him.”

She begged him. “But it’s so good! Just let me finish this one, Sans? Pleeease?”

The lights left his eye sockets and she froze. “not a chance in hell, kid.”

And then he winked. He grinned. “that anime is pretty terrible.”

Frisk threw the sofa pillow at him. “Jesus Christ, that scared the bejesus out of me. You are such a prat, Sans.”

He sat next to her with the remote and kissed her forehead before he started flipping through the tv channels. “this ‘prat’ loves you.”

He didn’t have to look at her to know that she was blushing. He didn’t have to look at her to feel her arms around his torso and her face burying into his coat. 

He wrapped his free arm around her.

This felt good. This felt unbelievably good.

Just being with Frisk felt amazing.

“you know, i don’t think we’ve ever done this,” he told her.

She removed her face from his coat. “Hm?”

this. just being with you, after i kiss you. it’s—nice.”

“You haven’t kissed me before,” she told him, and then she groaned and took the remote away from him when he left the tv on for too long on a cheesy comedy show Sans sometimes watched, but Frisk absolutely hated.

Sans laughed at that. “comedy hater. and actually, i’ve kissed you twice before.”

Her hand stopped for the slightest second before she resumed flipping through the channels on tv. “You never told me that. What happened?”

He paused. “do you want me to be honest?”

She couldn’t find anything that she would rather watch, so she changed the tv back to the cheesy comedy show. Sans appreciated it. He appreciated it even more when she was honest and said, voice strained and exceptionally quiet—“No”.

He knew at once she had had nightmares about him raping her.

So he lied to her, and perhaps it was because she had requested him to. “just more RESETs,” he told her, and it was surprising how light and calm he was, all things considered. But he had always suspected she might dream about it, hadn’t he?

Why wasn’t she more afraid? 

“then you forgot and i just—i wasn’t exactly bold enough to do it again.”

“That sucks,” she told him, and she didn’t question him, didn’t even look at him. And then she lifted her head from his coat and just sat next to Sans. She gave him back the remote. “And so does this show. I’d rather watch Nectarine Girl.”

He loved the desperate way she needed him even if he sometimes worried it surpassed the way he needed her.

“forgive me for not enjoying all the teenage drama that you and pap seem to crave,” Sans teased. “this is the last time, by the way, that i take anime recommendations from alphys.”

“Your friend recommended this? It’s a pretty good show. You know, sometimes, I think I’d like this Alphys monster. Papyrus does seem to like her,” Frisk told him, and when he moved to study her face he caught the rolling her eyes when the Temmie on tv told the Aaron that time was nigh. In Frisk’s defense, the show was pretty terrible; in Sans’ defense, it was so bad that it was terribly good.

“papyrus also worships undyne, and she patrols half the underground with a thirst for human souls,” Sans told the kid. She snorted.


It wasn’t long before Sans started playing with the kid’s hair and she closed her eyes.

She really was tired. Poor kid.

She fell asleep before the comedy show ended. It wasn’t even 9 PM. 

Her head was on his lap and Sans felt— tempted.

But he didn’t do anything.

Sans had never dated someone seriously and he certainly had never woken up with an awful pain on his neck after falling asleep sitting up with his girlfriend’s head still on his lap.

Not that Frisk was his girlfriend! He hadn’t exactly asked her. Not that he should ever ask.

And what was he even doing, thinking of the kid this way. He was sick. They couldn’t possibly ever be—

Although last night they had certainly acted like—

This wasn’t rightWhat was he doing? He felt the sudden urge to discontinue the timeline.

He got those urges a lot lately. It was a pretty addicting feeling, to have at least some degree of control over the RESETs. Not that he ever would— not that he ever seriously considered actually doing itwithout a good enough reason.

Sans felt like a terrible boyfriend for thinking of using the Anomaly in this way and felt like an even more terrible person for considering himself this kid’s boyfriend.

He didn’t register the loud noises coming from the kitchen at first. He had irrationally assumed those sounds, too, were coming from his crowded head. But then Papyrus greeted him,


And Sans knew that he and Frisk were no longer alone, and he regretted that he hadn't simply just pretended to still be sleeping.

"uh... morning, bro."


"i would, pap, but the human is borrowing my lap at the moment," he grinned.


Sans gave an apologetic grin. "i'll try to remember that next time, cushion case it happens again."


"but you're still smiling, pap."


There were a few more minutes of loud racket as Papyrus kept noisily preparing his infamous breakfast pasta and Sans stroked the kid's hair. She looked so peaceful, he would hate having to wake her up. Maybe he could skip work today. Undyne would kill him if she found out, but Asgore did owe him quite a few bloodied bones... And he didn’t especially like pulling the "I murdered four human children for you so cut me some slack as I slack off as a Sentry for your Royal Guard, King Asgore" card, but Frisk had looked so bone tired yesterday... He really wanted to just let her sleep.

He loved this kid so much.

And so he didn't go to work that day, despite Papyrus' protests. He remained sitting there and he watched tv and he stroked the kid's hair instead and it was nice, it was all so nice.

It reminded Sans of when Frisk was a child and she still looked like a child and he cared about her, truly cared, and his care was untainted by his lust and his want.

But he had so much lust in him for her now. So much want.

He so often wished that he didn't.

And so he sat on the couch and he let her sleep on his lap until he got so hungry that he actually had to bring Pap's awful breakfast spaghetti to him with blue magic and ugh, it was completely inedible, this kid owed him so much. This kid was going to have to let him cook a real breakfast for her when she woke up.

And then finally the kid woke up sometime around noon while Sans was suffering through Mettatton's daily talk show because there was not much else to watch so early in the day.

He knew she was awake as soon as she stirred. "morning, sweetheart."

"Sans?”—the kid frowned—“Why are you—? Where's Papyrus? What time is it?"

"few minutes after noon," he told her, and he brushed a few loose tendrils of hair out of her face. He loved stroking her hair. "sleep well?"

She sat up. "Sans! But— It’s Thursday! You're missing work. Why are you here?"

He grinned and shrugged. "you were sleeping on me"

"Oh my god, I’m sorry! But Sans, I'm not sick," she told him, and Sans smiled—he did always take the day off when either Frisk or Papyrus got sick because someone had to take care of them—"I can't believe I made you skip work."

"sleep is important," he reassured her, and his voice was light, but he was working rather hard to resist pulling her back to him. "d'you want breakfast?"

"Um, sure," she said. "Give me like ten minutes and we can go to Grillby's?

Sans laughed. "i'll give you ten minutes, but i am making you breakfast."

The kid's eyes widened at that. "You're cooking again? This is the second time since I've met you," she said, and after some consideration, added, "Should I worry you might overexert yourself?"

He grinned and kissed her cheek and that shut her up when her face flushed pink. "i can do a skele-ton of things. i just choose not to."

And then he teleported to the kitchen and threw away the leftover spaghetti and, after a minute of silence from the living room, Frisk's voice came up from upstairs.

"So I have clean pants but can I borrow a shirt? All of mine need to go in the laundry."

And Sans almost suggested that she just stay topless. But instead he said, "sure".

She lasted almost exactly ten minutes getting ready and dressed. Sans was in the process of making the world's most impromptu pancakes with the flour leftover from Pap's failed attempt at water sausage 'meat'balls.

"Whoa, it smells good," she said as she walked into the kitchen. Sans gave her a shit-eating grin; the kid sounded impressed. "Can I help?"

Sans snorted. "sure, set the table," he said, and then he waved his hand towards the kitchen and made sure his blue magic set the table for them. "whoops. i guess i don't need any help, then."

She raised an eyebrow and said, "Show off," but she was clearly suppressing a smile. Sans laughed before winking at her.

"you can just think of what it is you want to do today, kiddo. i have the entire day for you. we could go to hotland, or to the lake. or we could stay in here, watch more of that anime you like—or we could—go upstairs—"

He felt guilty for even suggesting it. He had told himself he wouldn’t.

She didn't quite catch his guilt.

He served her four pancakes even though at Grillby's the most she ever ate was three. The kid looked through the fridge.

"So I know I haven't really had breakfast here in months but did you throw away my bottle of syrup?"

Sans felt his face turn blue before he could regain control his magic. "i, uh, drank it."

Frisk snorted. "Figures. Can I have some of yours?"

"'course, kid."

"Thanks," she said and she gave him a bottle of syrup before sitting down with him at the table. "You know, this looks unbelievable coming from you. Thank you. I should cook for you sometime."

Sans snorted in disbelief. "you were ten when you fell down here and i know for a fact that t never let you do anything more elaborate in the kitchen than helping her bake pie. what would you cook, kiddo? cereal?"

The kid rolled her eyes. "I made breakfast and dinner for mom and me all the time at the Surface. And my own lunch. I can survive on my own."

"ah, kid. that just sounds like such a depressing thing for a kid to have to do. never feed me, ok?" Sans told her, and then he thought up a particularly lewd joke and grinned. "unless you're feeding me your—" He froze when he caught himself, horrified.

"—your… cat." Shitshitshitshit that wasn't even marginally different or even remotely better than the word pussy.

She frowned at him. "Feed you my cat? Are you okay?"

Sans gulped down his syrup. "i'm fine. but i should probably never fall asleep watching bad tv again."

"Sorry about that," Frisk said and she gave him a shy smile. As predicted, she didn't quite finish her four pancakes. Sans stole the last one from her plate.

"So is this it?" Frisk randomly asked him, and Sans couldn't help but feel offended.

"kid, i just made you pancakes from scratch, if you wanted something else—"

"Oh god, no!" She laughed, blushing. "No, breakfast was perfect! Thank you! I just mean—we kissed yesterday and—you know I like you"—she blushed a pretty red that was almost the color of her soul—"And now things don't really seem to have changed. Are we just going back to normal?"

Sans was paying attention. "do you want to? just go back to normal, i mean."

She looked unsure. “I, um, I don’t know. I’ve never really done this before. Kissed someone, I mean.”

“i have,” he told her, and he was a grown man and had spent most of his life not knowing her, he really shouldn’t be feeling this guilty that he told her. “but it’s never been—it doesn’t have to be—serious, y’know. it doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

She remained quiet for a long time and then said “Oh.”

Sans started to get anxious. This wasn’t going very well. “i mean, tibia honest, i’m still kinda waiting for you to RESET and forget about this. i don’t, um—i don’t usually do relationships.”


“i mean—with the RESETs and all,” he explained. He felt like he was digging his own grave with her and he just kept digging trying to climb out. “it’s never been worth it. but, y’know, if you want a fling—for however long this lasts—i wouldn’t be opposed—”

“Um— No. That’s fine. I think I completely misunderstood you yesterday.”

There was a long, awkward silence during which Sans debated whether it would be beneficial to reassure the kid that he did love her, even if the new possibility of starting a relationship with her terrified him. He didn’t want to grow closer to her just to have it erased by another RESET.

And then she groaned.

She buried her face in her hands. “God, I can’t believe I gave up a friend for this.”

And she was talking about goddamn Monsterkid, clearly.

Sans had messed up. Again. Without even sleeping with the kid.

“uh, d’you want to just— we can just keep watching tv.”

She suddenly stood up and glared at him. “No, Sans, I don’t want to ‘just keep watching tv’, you are such a fucking asshole.”

mind the fucking language, kid,” he told her angrily, getting  up from his chair as the kid stormed out of the kitchen and went to grab her backpack. “where do you think you’re going?”

Out. And away from you,” the kid said, and she sounded angry, too. “I have to check on Flowey.”


Flowey!” she yelled at him. “He doesn’t let me sleep at night, but if I don’t check on him during the day, he—”

“kid, what the fuck. you’re going out to check on that psycho flower? are you trying to make the world RESET? you’re staying here and you’re going to stop being such a little brat so that we can sort this out—”

“Oh, I’m not done with you,” she scoffed, slinging her backpack across her shoulder. “I am definitely coming back and telling you exactly how you can ‘sort this out’. But unlike you, Flowey doesn’t threaten to kill me, so right now I really need some stupid space so I can check on fucking Flowey.”

And then she walked out the door and yelled at him one last “Asshole!” before she slammed the door and left him steaming in his own disbelief and his rage.

This kid definitely owed him more than one explanation and a sincere apology for her goddamn disrespect.

She certainly knew more than she let on about the fucking RESETs.

And if she thought she could lie to his face about the RESETs and then cuss at him and get away with it, the kid was severely mistaken.

She was in for a bad time when she chose to come back.

Chapter Text

She didn't come back until late at night. Even Papyrus got home before she did, and he'd gone to Undyne's house after work.


And Sans was an anxious fucking mess, expecting a RESET at any given moment. He ate too much. He got explosively angry over the stupidest shit. He spent a lot of time in his room and on his bed and away from Papyrus.


But the RESET never came.


And then she finally, finally knocked on his door about half an hour after Pap had gone to sleep. Sans was relieved and he was furious. And when he opened the door, she still looked like such a bitchy brat—she looked like she was still so angry at him—that he pulled her into the house and kissed her before the kid could open her fucking mouth to fight him.


He instead opened her mouth for her with his tongue.


"you are such a fucking disrespectful child," he hissed against her mouth when she angrily tried to push him away. "haven't i taught you some goddamn manners, kid?"


And he had—he really had—on those very rare occasions she had been impatient with Papyrus or he'd caught her being rude when she was younger. He wished he didn't remember some of those moments so clearly now while the kid's taste was still in his mouth.


Her lips tasted like guilt, but Sans didn't care.


He was so horny and so mad


So desperate.


And so he moved his hands down to her hips and pulled her to him. He kissed her again, harsh and anxious magic forcing itself against her mouth, his tongue every so often licking her lips as he began trailing his magic down every inch of skin he could touch. He wanted her to want him.


He wanted her to keep crawling back to him no matter what, no matter how many times he screwed up, no matter how many RESETs. She was his endgame; not going back, not reaching the surface, not his research of the RESETs, nothing else


All he ever wanted and all he could hope for was her.


And then she let out a little whimper that sounded a lot like a suppressed moan and she stopped trying to pull away, and he knew he had won.


This fucking kid couldn't ever not want him for long.


And perhaps that was because she needed him even more than he needed her. Perhaps it was because she was lonely; just a sad little girl who was alone in the world. And it certainly was wrong that he took advantage of that


But Sans was alone too and there was no one who could want him like her.


And so he teleported them to his room and then he pushed her to the bed and then he was on top of her.


He warned her once. "if you scream, i'll make damn sure nobody can hear. so be a good girl and stay quiet, okay?"


She pushed her hands against his chest. "This doesn't solve anything," she spat at him. 


"maybe not," he conceded, and he pressed a kiss on her neck. "but you know you want this."


And then he grinded his pelvis against her hips and shoved a hand under her shirt and kissed her again, kissed her so hard


Her body responded. She did want him.


She moved her face away.


"Let go of me," she told him angrily, but her breathing was heavy and he could see how deeply her face had flushed. Did she want this the hard way?


He could give her that.


Or maybe he could give her the complete opposite and see how the Anomaly fucking liked it when things didn't go her way.


He went softer. Slower. It was almost—painfully gentle—the way he kissed her throat and massaged his magic into her hips, her waist, her chest, her breasts. "you want me to fuck you, kid, just admit it. it would be so much easier for you if you did."


She pushed harder against him but he didn’t budge. When it came to strength, she had always been so fucking unimpressive. "I don't want—a stupid fling."


"well get used to it, kid, because this"—he shoved his magic up her shirt and she gasped—"doesn't mean anything"—he licked the soft skin of her neck and her body leaned closer to him—“and i bet you're still so fucking wet for me.


"how about i find out?"


And then he shoved a blue hand down the kid's pants and he would have been successful at finding out just how badly the kid wanted him if she hadn't fought him so hard.


"Don't!" she yelled at him, and she almost pushed him off of her this time, and she wouldn’t stay still


She did want it rough.


He slammed her hands against his bed by the wrists. He was so pissed by her rejection that he yelled at her, "you really ought to stop being such a fucking bitch!"


And then she started crying. She looked and sounded absolutely miserable under him.


There was no way Papyrus hadn't heard that.


Shit, shit—


And so he flicked his wrist and his magic went up into the fourth dimension and time stopped; they were completely alone.


Now nothing she did could make him stop, and the opportunity both excited and terrified him.


He wanted—


"kid—shit. i love you," he said, and he meant it, he really meant it, and he kissed her neck but he tightened his grip on her wrists and she probably knew that this same scenario had happened before, Sans was sure the kid had nightmares about it, she must know what happened next. "i do love you, i want you, i just can'tshiti just keep getting this all wrong."


He tugged at the waist of the sweatpants she was wearing until he decided he was too lazy to bother and had her entire outfit disappear and then when she found herself suddenly naked she started struggling under him, trying to get away—“Sans, pleaseplease just stop—just let me go—"


"shhh, kid—don't start making this into a big deal. i just want sex, it doesn't mean—i love you, but this doesn't mean—i don't want this to be such a huge thing between us—"


And he just wanted to get his dick wet. He didn't understand why she had to make such a big deal about it. And it wasn't like she was truly a virgin, not anymore, he'd already had her twice, why would a third time matter so much to her—she was the only one who seemed to mind this so much—


Didn't she remember how much she had liked it, the last time?


Was he really that alone? Was he really the only one who would ever truly remember?


He moved his hand down to her exposed entrance and started playing with her clit, and initially she tried to fight him, but then he saw the way she bit her lip, how her hips stilled for him and let him do what he wanted. She did want it, wanted it as badly as he did, but she was so determined


So damn fucking determined to make this simple fuck into more than it was.


"come on, kiddo. just give in. you're just going to RESET in the end anyway. be a good girli love yoube a good girl, just let me—" just let me—


Just let me what?


Show you?


Like this?



And he knew he was digging his own grave but it just didn't seem like he could be able to stop.

She started crying so loudly, just bawling—and she wouldn’t stay still

He used his bad magic on her, the kind she didn’t like.


It held her down by a powerful gravity.

And then he kissed her on the lips again, this time soft and gentle as he once again moved his hand down to her clit and this time, this time she couldn't fight back—this time she even sort of kissed him back, but then she sobbed once more into his mouth and said "please stop, please just stop—this isn't—i don't want to do this, not like this—just please—"


And she was such a fucking liar, but so was he.


And he reminded her that "you liked this well enough the last time."


And then she tensed up against him and he became frustrated and Sans was the worst, Sans truly was scum, but he didn't know what else to do and so he said, "come on, kid,


"is this how you want to repay the only person who's ever cared about you?"


A low blow, a very fucking low blow and even he knew it, even he was disgusted and sick with himself—


And he felt guilty but she shouldn't have shared that about herself if she didn't want him to use it—

He cut her just a bit more.


"who else is going to want you but me?"


And then she froze and then her crying got quieter and then she gave up.


He saw the exact moment the Determination left her eyes.


And he felt nauseous, he felt sick with himself, this had to be an even worse way to get LV—


And this wasn't love, this thing he felt for her. It couldn't possibly be—he couldn't possibly be capable of feeling this bad and yet this damn triumphant if it was—


Her body relaxed and he felt so eager and guilty and—


And it was so fucking hard to feel guilt anymore but with her, he always did. Was that why he wanted her? Because she made him feel guilt and shame and regret, like he probably once before did?


Was she supposed to be his redemption, somehow?


If she was, he was really screwing this up. If she was, ...


But he was being ridiculous. This timeline was done, he'd ruined this too much, but there would be other times, other timelines, to make things right with Frisk, because he did want—


He so badly wanted


She wouldn't stop crying. But it would be useless to stop now.


"shh, kid. let’s not fight.


“i just want— a fucking happy ending with you."


And then he snorted at his own accidental pun and shoved a finger into the kid and then his thumb resumed stroking her clit. 


He nibbled her earlobe and traced the skin of her ear with his tongue as he slowly pumped his finger into her and he whispered "you liked it when i stroked you like this the last time. do you remember?”

And she shook her head frantically but that was a lie, she had to have at least dreamt it, she just didn’t want to—


"do you remember how we kissed in your hiding spot? i told you i loved you. that hasn't changed. and you kissed me back, just like in this timeline—” He went a little faster, she felt so tight around his finger, and he loved the way she bit her lip.


"i do love you, frisk. you are so sweet. so good. i just— i'm not


"and shit, kiddo. that isn't your fault at all but damn if you don't ever run. you must really have a thing for me—”

And his cock was fully formed now. It had been for a while. And so he pulled at the waistband of his pants, and he positioned himself—

And her tears got out much thicker but she was still crying so quietly.

So cooperatively.


"i'm—i'm sorry. i do love you, i do—”

And this was all he ever wanted. To just have the kid comply.


"i love you. shit. i wish i didn’t love you like this.”


He started pushing himself into her and this time he was going slow, this time it wasn't going to hurt, this time she would love every minute of it


"maybe it would be best for you if this time around you remembered this. but kid, i am such a selfish coward." She tensed up around him as soon as she caught on to what he was implying and her fear made it harder to push into her but her fear felt incredible.


And still she wasn't going to fight him.


And still she clung to him.


And it couldn't be completely Sans' fault—that the kid was so broken this way—


But he sure hadn't fucking helped.


And he would have helped the kid, wouldn't he have, when she was younger. He would have gone above and beyond to help her when she was just a kid and she still looked like a kid and he hadn't been so obsessed with getting a decent fuck out of her.

He wished Frisk had come to him with her needy loneliness and her low self-esteem when she was eleven and looked eleven, instead of now when she was still a kid and still was lonely but she looked

So goddamn fuckable.


He pushed a little harder into her. She felt like guilt and like sin and like want. And wasn't this what Sans was used to? Wasn't this all he could have? There were no happy endings for figurative and literal monsters like him.


There was no happiness in the end waiting for him. But if he had Frisk


If he at least had Frisk


The barrier inside her broke, again, and he lost control. He pushed too hard. He buried himself all the way in.


She gave a loud sob and squirmed the same moment he groaned against her ear.


He had to fight hard to still himself. "shit!sorry. sorry. you feel too good."


He pressed a small kiss on her tear-stained cheek and another one on her forehead and on her lips. "sorry, kiddo. i'll be good. i didn't want this—to hurt. sorry."


He went slow then, agonizingly so. And she still felt so incredible—he wanted this to last. And then her hands held on to the front of his coat and she buried her face against his chest—


She looked so needy and desperate and so alone.


"i love you," he told her, and he did, he really did, "can you believe that? i just wish—this didn't feel so wrong.


"or maybe that's precisely what i like about this. i don't know.” And he was still going slow but every so often his pace would pick up, he had to force himself to slow down.


"what do you like? maybe, if you told me—i want to have you, kid, i really do—if you told me what you wanted from me, i could give it to you."


Frisk sniffled. "I told you so many times." Her voice was small and she sounded so defeated. "I wanted you. I just wanted—just you."


He pressed his forehead against hers and tried hard not to think of how good it felt to pump in and out of her. "not anymore?"


She laughed, and the laugh sounded weak and bitter but it still felt good when she constricted around him. "I don't really think you are who I thought you were anymore."


He kissed her and she didn't fight, but she didn't exactly kiss him back either.

“but you need me, don’t you? you’re not exactly going to walk away.”

She didn’t say anything to that. And now it was his turn to laugh.


"shhh, baby, you don't need to be like that. let's not end the timeline this way. i can be what you want," he told her, and he started going a bit faster then, rubbing his magic over her in thick blue lines. Her face went red. Her breath caught in her throat. And maybe she was dying after this, but that didn't have to—hahaha!!—‘kill’ the mood.


What was wrong with him?


When she remained quiet, Sans abruptly pushed in rather hard and that got a reaction out of her. She gave out a little scream of pain and a—


Was that a moan?




She was—she liked— "do you want me to go harder?” he asked her with disbelief. “is that what you like?"


Her face went red and He pulled her wrists over her head and kept going, faster this time, harder, but not so much that he could get close to the edge. "or do you just like it when i force you to fuck me? do you like knowing that you have no choice?”

She started trying to get away from him again and godshe felt so good wriggling around his cock like that—he was completely overpowering her and—


And she’d come so hard around him the last time—

He pulled out of her just to flip her over and then he was inside of her again, he pushed her head down against the mattress and forced himself in, hard,






And then a hand grabbed a fistful of short hair and pulled. His other hand found her clit again and he was being rather rough with it, was rubbing rather fast—


And after a while she fucking came around his cock.


And she stifled her screams and she sobbed hard against the bed but he still felt the kid contract so pleasurably around him


He stopped rubbing her and he grabbed her hips and he pulled her entire body to him as he slammed against her and she tried frantically to pull herself off, this probably hurt


He didn’t care.


And then he came inside of her and—


Less guilt, now. This time.

His breathing was erratic. But he felt—good. And he knew he shouldn’t be feeling this good.

But she had liked it.

And she was as good as dead anyway.

He rested his head against the back of her neck. “that was amazing. did you like it?”

She didn’t say anything and—shit.


Mute Frisk.

He rolled himself off of her.

“i don’t even know why i am asking you,” he told her. “i know you did.

“do you want to go at it again?”

She tensed. And at first, she didn’t say anything, but in the end she let out, “Does it even matter what I want?”

He laughed so hard at that. He kissed her.

It didn’t matter at all.

He had her two more times and then he killed her.

Chapter Text

Sans woke up in an open space that was blinding white and he felt no pain, he regained no memories, and he knew at once that the world hadn't RESET.


He couldn't feel his body. He felt incorporeal. And so he looked down and saw—himself. But his body was broken. He was so fragmented. He looked almost transparent, barely even visible, like he—

Like he wasn’t supposed to be here.


Two figures were a distance in front of him. They didn't seem to see him, or at least they paid him no mind. And one of them was standing, a redheaded human who looked strangely familiar and somehow genderless...


And then the other one, crouching on the floor with her hands hiding her face and her head down to her knees, was—






Sans tried to go to her but he couldn't move.


The redhead spoke. "Well! Can't say we're not surprised by that, can we?" They sounded particularly cheerful in such a taunting way. And maybe it was hypocritical of him, but Sans felt a strong protective need to get Frisk out of there and—

And the redhead spoke again. "God, we must have dreamt of him raping us so many times. Why didn't you listen?"


And Sans was frozen in more ways than one. He didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to listen, he wanted to flee and be out of here and he wanted to take Frisk with him, he wanted to take his kid away from whatever that thing was—


His kid shook her head and the redhead giggled.


"He really is a monster," they mused, and then they casually got a knife out of their pocket, an eerie smile on their face, and Sans knew then that this was—


This must be— the bad voice.


Where was Sans?


"Welp! I'm guessing you don't want to go back there again after that? Mind if I give it a try this time?"


Sans saw the way Frisk shook her head frantically. The redhead pretended not to see her, and they must have been about to do something that Sans couldn't quite catch, because then the kid suddenly groaned out a weak, "Don't!"


The redhead—the bad voice—giggled again. "Really? Again fighting this? Come on, Frisk. I couldn't possibly be any worse than he is!"


And then Frisk—didn't—fight


She started crying.


And then he was suddenly in the middle of reading a story to Papyrus, and he felt like the world was about to end.




The pain was unbearable. He hadn't ever felt this bad before, not once, not after any other RESET. It was like his memories were being carved into his skull through flame and piercing knives at the same time his soul was forcefully shoved into his body. Every inch of bone felt like it was on fire

Sans felt like he was dying


He screamed so loud that it frightened Papyrus and then Sans threw up, he threw up so much magic, the blue was coming out of him in waves and it oozed out of his ears, his eyes, his mouth, he could barely breathe, this was surely Hell

He was dying, he wasn’t supposed to—his body wasn’t meant to feel this way—monster souls were too weak to be detached from their bodies and yet his soul felt like it had been somehow torn out previously and was now being forced back in


Papyrus screamed even louder than Sans did. He looked so concerned. "S-SANS!! WHAT IS HAPPENING? BROTHER, ARE YOU ALRIGHT!??"


And Sans could only scream and so Sans just kept screaming. His magic flooded the room, his magic probably flooded the entire house, and he screamed and he cried and he—


He was not meant to experience a RESET like this.


It was too much, it was all too much


"BROTHER!!! TALK TO ME!!!!" He felt Papyrus' hands on his shoulders and it felt like a piercing burn.


And Sans needed to make this stophe needed to


The dirty brother killer was in the house.


"stay right here, papyrus," he warned him through a forced growl, and then he slammed Pap to the floor and held him there with whatever magic he was able to control, and perhaps his magic was too harsh, but he could barely control it, and he needed—


He needed Pap safe.


It was not-Frisk this time and he knew it—The timeline had to RESET.


"SANS!!" Papyrus screamed as Sans ran out of the room but he didn't look back, Papyrus was safe, Papyrus would remain safe as long as he took care of the not-Frisk, the bad voice, before they got to Pap.


He ran down the stairs and his bones still felt like they were on fire.


The kid was still on the couch. The little fucker was pretending that she slept.


He turned her soul blue and threw her off his couch and slammed her hard against the wall.


And then she gave a little shriek of pain but she was smiling, the fucking psycho. “Aw, Sansy! How did you know?”


“you reek of dirty brother killer,” he snarled at her. And then the not-Frisk laughed.

He pierced her with a cluster of sharp bones and it was probably cruel of him to avoid the vital organs, it was probably cruel to let the fucker just bleed to death.


And Sans as in no mood to have fun while he killed the not-Frisk but he could sure use some time to rest as he waited for the world to RESET.


He was in for a lot of pain once the not-Frisk died.


And in the back of his mind, he felt so incredibly guilty when he noticed that Frisk had SAVEd in his house after he'd kissed her.


“H-Hey, Sansy,” the not-Frisk said, and he hated that fucking nickname out of her mouth,

(He wondered how he’d feel about it if it were Frisk calling him that way),

“W-what do… y-you and I have… in c-common?” she asked him, and she was dying, she was so close to death, and he knew that she was trying to taunt him and he was in no mood to humor this bitch. He closed his eye sockets.

“I-I’m—hahah!I’m a… d-dirty b-brother killer… but y-you—”


She laughed so feebly and he knew that the RESET was coming soon. Sans tried hard to brace himself. His pain had receded, but it was about to start again.

Y-you… are a d-dirtych-child rapist! H-haha hah!


And then he lost his patience and he twisted his summoned bones and he made sure that one pierced her right through the throat.




The bright place again. The kid crying. Sans is still unable to move. The dirty brother killer again offers to take over.

“Chara, don’t—” Frisk pleads, but she doesn’t fight. She sounds so pathetic. So undetermined.

Sans feels guilt. Sans tries so hard to reach the kid.

The world RESET. And now the bad voice has a name.

The world started again, and Sans was less than optimistic.

“SANS!?” Sans slammed Papyrus against his bed and there had to be a better way than this, he hated using his magic on Papyrus—


The pain started again. He was on fire. And it hurt—it fucking hurt

He didn’t know how he managed it but suddenly he was running down the stairs and his bones were on fire and his mind was a rush of burning memories and Papyrus was screaming, he was yelling Sans’ name, Papyrus was worried


There had to be a better way, there had to be a way so that Papyrus would not have to worry


The dirty brother killer had made their way to the kitchen.


 “Oops! Caught me!” she said cheerfully, raising a pair of empty hands, palms towards him as if showing him she was surrendering, as if any of this was just a fucking game.

He angrily killed her off before he knew what he was doing.




Bright place, crying Frisk, taunting Chara, dozens of times.


Perhaps hundreds of times, or even thousands of times. Sans had lost count. It was so hard to count, when he was almost constantly in blinding pain.

Sans figured out a way to focus his magic enough to freeze Papyrus in time before the pain got too unbearable to control his magic. It was tricky magic and weird and uncomfortable, but at least Papyrus wouldn’t have to worry this way.


And perhaps Sans had to suffer through each RESET but at leastat least Pap didn’t have to.


He was as innocent as Frisk was. And Sans so wished—that he could protect both.


He was still unable, so absolutely unable, to move and go to Frisk while in the bright place. He still didn’t know what that place was. He’d saved the question for a Frisk RESET. Right now, his mind was preoccupied with the searing pain,


Killing off the not-Frisk—Chara—


And helping Frisk, the crying Frisk, the helpless Frisk, his kid


Dozens of more RESETs. Hundreds more. Perhaps a thousand or a million more. It was all the same to Sans.


And each time he killed Chara until one day he gave up and he didn’t.


He was so tired.


He became selfish.


And then she lunged at him with a sharp knife and he saw it coming but he let himself die. It turned out to be less painful than the RESETs. And then the following RESET came without a visit to the bright place and without as much burning pain and Sans knew—Sans knew then that his soul had indeed been getting torn out and sent to the bright place with each RESET, but then he had died before Frisk’s body did—


And his death had been… so… relieving.


And he was selfish and he felt bad for Pap but then he let himself die just a couple of times more and then Frisk came back.


It was a Frisk timeline again.


And he couldn't believe it, at first—


He’d gone down the stairs after freezing Papyrus and he had seen the kid’s body just watching tv on the couch. And he couldn’t believe it, but—




And then she looked at him with so much MERCY and so much purity and not an ounce of hate, not the slightest hint of LV, and he knew it was her and he ran to her.


He’d missed her so, so much.


He kissed her. And at first, she just lay there and let him force his mouth, his magic, his tongue—


Her body was completely rigid and then she trembled slightly


But then he moved from her lips and kissed her cheek, her neck—


"i love you, i missed you—"


And then her hands moved to the front of his coat before she wrapped her arms around him and she hugged him so tight—“I—I missed you, too.”


And he was so glad, he was so relieved. Her love felt like forgiveness and he—


He wanted to show her—


And perhaps he still wasn’t thinking right. His mind was still absorbing the past RESETs. But he knew that—he’d had her—


And he wanted to have her again.


He moved them to his bedroom. He had told himself he wouldn't but he did, he missed her, he loved her, and his restraint had died so many timelines ago


And he needed her and he needed this, he really did


He forced her pants off. He pulled down his own.


And she froze and then—


"Please don't," she begged him. Her voice was so hushed, so quiet, just so, so small that he pretended not to hear it.


And he felt guilt and he felt shame but he’d missed her he’d missed her and he needed her and needed this and they had already done this, so many times


What more could one more time hurt?


And she was his.


She belonged to him.


He pushed himself inside of her and again that annoying barrier; he was getting so tired of trying to be gentle—


And then she tried to move her hips away and he firmly held her in place and then he forced himself in all at once.


She gave such a quiet little cry and he knew it had hurt.


He was so sorry. He'd make up for this eventually.


But right now he needed this and needed her and he went rather slow, at first, as she adjusted. 


He begged her. "please don't hate me. please, please..."


And he hadn't really helped her get ready for him. And it would be delusional to pretend she was enjoying this. And so he picked up the pace


better make this quick,


better get this over with,


And then he was going rather hard and he was going rather fast and he was slamming himself into her and she was good, she was so good, no loud screams out of her and she was limp as he pounded into her and she was such a good girl,


She was being such a good girl just letting him fuck her, just letting him do what he wanted with her,


And so he went a bit bolder and he asked her, very nicely, even as his voice was full of need, "can you spread your legs a little wider for me, please? i want to know what it feels like when you just completely give up and take me"


And she was crying quietly and she was still and then he started forcing himself even deeper, even harder, and he didn’t really do it consciously but maybe he was purposefully hurting her with his dick until she did,


She did spread her legs wider for him. She did and now he—could go deeper


And yes, this was what he wanted to see he could make her do—


And then he came in her and it was over and then he felt guilt.


He felt guilt and shame and disgust. And only Frisk could make him feel this way. Only Frisk could make him remember what it felt like—


What it was like to—to want to be a good person?


Hurting her could feel so cathartic. But hurting her needed to stop.


And then suddenly he was horrified.


And this was not supposed to be the way his first time was with Frisk. The first time that she remembered. He had screwed up, he had been selfish. He had screwed up again because he’d needed this and needed her and he had missed her—He’d been so selfish


And he resigned himself because it was back to the bright space again. Back to the searing pain. Back to another RESET.


And he was still on top of her and then his eyes met hers. She looked so sad and just so, so defeated and then she said, "Please… at least… don't kill me."


And how did she know?


“It hurts to die.”


He still did.




And again they were in the white space and again Frisk and Chara were there.


"Wow!" Chara said, and they sounded as nasty and taunting as always but there was still a hint of disbelief in their voice. "You go back to him after how many Resets and then he pulls this stint on you again!? He must really hate you! Just what exactly do you even see in this guy?"


The kid muttered something so softly that Sans couldn't hear, but apparently Chara did, because they giggled and said, "And you believe that? Really believe that? Are you really that dumb or do you just hate yourself?"


Frisk shook her head and again Sans wanted to go to her, again he felt the protective need to get her out of there. He mustered up all of his magic and all of his power and managed to take a single step this time and—!


And Chara noticed. They looked right at him, eyes wide with disbelief. "Oh, shit."


"Frisk—" they said, and they looked startled beyond belief, like it was simply impossible that Sans could be there. "Frisk, what did you do? This is not the place to bring your obsessive rapist into."


Sans’ kid looked up to Chara and seemed to be still unaware of him when she said, "What do you mean?"


And then suddenly there was a strong sense of urgency in the brother killer’s voice. They looked startled and afraid. "You know what, just Reset. Just Reset and get him out of here."


And then Chara pushed Frisk and Sans almost lunged at them and then he was—




Again reading Papyrus his bedtime story and again the pain, again the burning of bones as his soul was unnaturally forced back into his body, and he mustered up what little control he still had and he wasn't about to worry his brother, he froze him in time—He froze all of time


And then he gave out a long, ear piercing scream and he threw up so much magic, he almost choked in it, and his bones were on fire and the memories came crashing back


He didn't even know who he was anymore.


And he felt—so much stronger—after each RESET. And it was—so much more painful—after each and every RESET. And he didn't know why; were the effects cumulative? It was an interesting hypothesis worthy of study for another time because right now, he needed to calm himself.


Right now, he needed muster enough composure to finish Pap's bedtime story.


Right now, Frisk was waiting for him downstairs, and he would make things right, he would be good,


He had to. He loved her. He was so in love with that kid and she was—


She was—


She was good. She was kind. She was so funny and bright and full of MERCY and she was—


Was just so, so much more than he was.


She was more than he could ever hope for, or ever grow to deserve.


He felt a certain lonely bitterness deep in his chest.


He had taken her and killed her so many times and there was no way, in the end, that he was meant for her, no matter how much he wanted her, there was just no way.


He was too wrong. Too full of LV. Too sadistic, too detached, too desperate and alone and afraid and he'd lived a lonely existence without consequences for far too long,


He had been used to not seeing people as people for far too long,


And he was—in the end—just going to make her suffer with him. Just going to make her hurt.


He was bad. He was poison.


But she was so bright and so good and so pure and wonderful and he just couldn't pull himself away.


He remained sitting there on his own, full of thoughts of want and of self-hate and of his twisted, obsessive love and of his LOVE for far too long. Then he calmed down. He regained control of his magic.


He restarted the world. (It was easy, so easy.)


He finished reading the bedtime story to Papyrus. He fell asleep at precisely the same chapter he’d had before. (So predictable and so boring even though Sans loved Papyrus.)


He collected his thoughts. He took a deep breath. He tried hard to pretend he was a good person. (don't screw this up, don't screw this up, just for her don’t screw this up.)


And then he finally and very composedly and very carefully went to her.


Chapter Text

His voice was as light and carefree as he could ever make it as he went downstairs and found her watching tv on the couch.


"heya, kiddo. you’re still up?"


She checked the clock. "It's only 8:30," she said. And she didn't look at him, and Sans was grateful. He was so grateful because he felt like sin and like bile and he was certain that he had guilt written all over his face.


He sat on the couch next to her. And ugh, of course the kid had been watching Nectarine Girl. He remembered Papyrus; he would kill Sans if he knew he'd let the kid keep watching that terrible anime while Pap was asleep.


This time, though, Sans didn't say anything.


And it felt wrong, to just sit with her after all he had done. He wanted to leave, wanted to have some degree of shame and give her space, even if she didn't remember. But the fact was that she didn't remember and Sans—


Sans was so weak.


Sans was so selfish.


And Sans needed


Sans loved


This kid.


And was she going to ask him again to define their relationship, tomorrow? And if she was, would he be brave enough, selfish enough, desperate enough to say yes?


He knew that's what she wanted.


He owed her this much.


And he did love her but he—


It was so fucking ridiculous that he was even considering an established relationship with a 14 year-old kid. And that he was doing this one timeline away from forcing her to have sex with him; what did that say about him?


Casual sex was one thing


One thing he definitely wanted.


And then, maybe, when she was older—


Maybe, when she remembered past timelines, was able to hold on to memories after every RESET—


Maybe, when he was better—perhaps never good, but at least significantly betterMaybe, after he was done studying the Anomaly, after he had stopped being so obsessed and full of lust and of want and was able to focus on the fact that she was an actual person and not a thing to be fucked, not a thing to be had, not a thing to be studied and hurt because it felt SO, SO GOOD to hurt her when he was hurting her with his cock andMaybeJust maybe she'd forgive him and he would be—


Not worthy but at least—Not nearly as undeserving—of her.


Not nearly as harmful, to her.


And he could give her what she wanted because he could be what she wanted and not be—this thing that he was.


Not be this awful thing that he was, not be as poisonous as he was to her because he was—he was not good—he was not merciful—he was—just this.


This monster. This sadist. This selfish fucking bastard who had killed her more than once, who had raped her more than once and had loved it, who had forced her to fuck and made her like it, who was wanting to do it again.


And perhaps he could never be any better than this.


But at least, if he tried hard—if he tried really, really hard for her—he could pretend.


He could pretend to be better than he was or ever would be, for her.


She brought him out of his wretched pool of self-hate. Her voice was light and she said “I missed watching tv with you. Thanks for not taking away Nectarine Girl."


Sans forced out a chuckle. “no problem, kid. just don’t tell papyrus.”


She very tentatively rested her head against his shoulder and why was she hesitating? Had they not made up, in this timeline?

They had, hadn’t they?


His mind more often than not was such a mess of timelines.


And had he told her yet that he loved her?


Had he ever said he was sorry? So sorrysorry for loving her and sorry for hurting her and sorry because that was all he had in him to do, he was not good, he was not even remotely good anymore and he was sorry


He was sorry, so sorry, he was sorry that he loved her and sorry that she loved him and sorry that he took advantage of that.


He was sorry for many things he was too weak to stop doing.


And it was like she knew what he was thinking. Like she'd seen the guilt and the self-hate and the self-disgust in his mind because she suddenly placed a soft hand on his coat and she stroked his arm in a way that was so soothing to him. He loved her


Her voice was soft and light and beautiful. “How has Papyrus been, anyway? I didn’t get—I knew you were avoiding me, so I didn’t get to spend much time with him these past few months. He was always either at your house or with Undyne.”


He felt more than just slightly guilty. “papyrus is good. still can’t cook for crap, as you will probably see. breakfast spaghetti is still awful.”


She squeezed his arm. “Ugh. You know, I actually missed his breakfast spaghetti, but I didn’t miss his breakfast spaghetti, y’know what I mean? I’m so glad I brought my backpack. Can I borrow a plastic bag? You know, to hide the spaghetti.”


“bottom drawer of the kitchen counter,” Sans told her, and just this was nice, just sitting together felt good, so why did he insist on wanting more? He didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve even this


He felt so—so filthy, so worthless


And hurting her had felt so cathartic but now he just felt like sin


Like blood


Like pain and like dirt and like misery


And he just wanted her to want him. And he just needed her to not hate him.


Just please, pleasenever hate him


She was his kid, hishis


And he could be hers, he already was hersif she wanted him.


She brought him back again. “You know, you are, seriously, like, the best brother. Haven’t you ever thought of just telling Papyrus that his spaghetti sucks?”


Sans forced out another snort, and this time it was more genuine. “haven’t you?”


She laughed. “I guess not.”


And then there was another silence. Sans tried hard not to feel the pleasing way her head felt on his shoulder, her hand on his arm. He tried hard to be decent. He tried hard not to be


What he was.


He let his hand hold her free one and she let their fingers intertwine. And it was just innocent hand-holding, they had done this a hundred times.


But it felt like so much more.


He held on tight.


“Sans? You’re a very good brother. How much time do you actually spend with Papyrus?”


There was something in the way she said it that made him listen. She sounded—worried. Had something happened?


“not an awful lot of time, lately,” Sans admitted. “i’ve been, ah, busy working on some science projects”—studying you—“is there something i need to know?”


And then Frisk became very quiet, and she stroked his hand with her thumb, and then she squeezed his arm and she was doing this to soothe him wasn't she, she was doing this to keep him calm, and she lifted her head and she kissed his cheek


She pressed herself close to him.


And then she said, in her wonderfully soft, soothing, beautiful voice, “Please don’t be mad. But Flowey—Flowey told me that he talks to Papyrus.”


And then Sans froze. He felt a sudden quiet rage building inside him but the kid wasn’t finished.


“He told me that—He’s killed him.”


More quiet rage, now bubbling to the surface. The room was turning blue. But she wasn’t done.


“And I thought maybe that’s why I did the RESETs. I thought Flowey had killed Papyrus. So when I went to check on him today—”


The room was blue now. He was so angry. He was going to find that fucking weed and— 




When she had checked on Flowey today?


“—when I met with him today, I asked—”


N o, n o, n o. That was tomorrowShe was m e e t i n g w i t h F l o w e y t o m o r r o w.


“—and he told me he had—” He tuned her out.


She was meeting with Flowey T o m o r r o w, t o m o r r o w, a n d . . .


And these were all memories from t h e  w r o n g  t i m e l i n e.


And she was still going on about Papyrus. “Do you think, that you could—”


kid.” He cut her off. And the room was blue and his eye was probably blue and he was probably terrifying her, but he was so mad, he was so mad at Flowey and yet he was simultaneously happy and elated and anxious and hopeful and afraid, so afraidso scared and—and he was with her but he was absolutely terrified— “kid, you— you remember doing that?"


And the kid froze at that and Sans shouldn’t have spoken so harshly, he shouldn’t have sounded as mad as he had but he was still angry about Flowey and he was still anxious and ecstatic and terrified that Frisk had remembered


And what else could she remember?


What else did she remember?


The kid shifted her eyes upstairs and then she told him, very quietly, as his magic consumed them, “Sans, if you don’t calm down, you’re going to wake up Papyrus.”


And Sans just about lost itWho the fuck cared right now about Papyrus. But then the kid said—“I know you don’t want him to hear us. Please? Please calm down, we can talk—I really don’t want to die again.”


I really don’t want to die again.






He wanted to d i e.


He wanted to k i l l  h e r and see if she remembered that.


He noticed how his hand was still holding hers when the kid tried to move her hand away and so he held it there and then he decided that wasn't enough, he turned her soul blue and he threw her to the floor and then he pinned her there with both his magic and his hands on her wrists.


And there was definitely fear in the kid's eyes. There was definitely fear and distress and MERCY and—


R e s i g n a t i o n.


And he suddenly felt like he had so much control over her and—


And he wanted to overpower her again, he wanted to force her, he wanted to make her spread her legs for him again and lie and tell her that she couldn’t leave, she shouldn’t leave, because who else would want her but him and he—


And he tried really hard—to be good.


He tried really hard—to be decent.


Because if the kid remembered that he had raped her, multiple times… If the kid had grown to hate him… Then there really would be no point in not simply taking her again until she gave up, was there?


And how could he force her to stay with him?


And she brought him out of his destructiveness and his desperation and his frantic need to tie her down to himagain, and she said—in her soothing voice


“Please let me go. I'm not going to run, so... please...”


And suddenly he was horrified. Hadn’t he been just trying to do the right thing? He was so bad at it, he was inherently bad, he was inherently disgusting and horrible


 He loosened his grip and he said—




And then he ever so tentatively and selfishly pressed a small kiss on the kid's lips.


Her eyes were wide and her cheeks went pink.


She looked—


Innocent. Beautiful.


And she probably remembered more than she let on. But Sans wasn't about to question her and find out.


"i am just—so glad that you finally remember something. i’d been waiting for this to happen. did it hurt?"


"It felt like a headache," she told him and his hands let go of her wrists completely, but he still stayed on top of her, he still debated raping her, he pressed his forehead against hers.


"it will get worse, the more you remember," he told her. "kiddo, if you need—someone to talk to, i'll be glad to do it. i wish someone had been there when i— i just want to make this as least painful as possible for you."


She gave him such a melancholy smile that he knew that she remembered more than she let on. "You are notever—the way that I remember you."


He was very honest with her. "i'm trying, kid."


And then—"sometimes... i don't succeed."


And finally—"please don't—please don’t hate me." (please, please.) "i don't—hate you. as hard as that is to believe."


"I don't think I could ever hate you,” she told him, and she sounded so honest, so merciful, so full of goodness and light that Sans just


“But—I am scared—of what you can do. Do you understand that?"

He hid his face from her by burying it against her neck. “no.”


And he was absolutely miserable.




“it’s hard. it’s so hard to care, knowing that the world will just RESET. kiddo, trust me, you’ll understand—”


"Sans," she whispered, and her voice was still soft but he could hear the admonishment in her voice and there was no anger in her, no hate, but still the way she spoke made him feel so small. "If the world just Resets, that's all the more reason—that's a new opportunity to be better, not worse."


He kept hiding his face against the kid’s neck and told her bitterly "i am not as good as you are."


And then her voice softened even more. She wrapped her arms around him. "You can be good. I know you can. Sans, you already so often areI love you.”


And Sans felt his sins crawling on his back.


He became—desperate.


He kissed her, and when she let him, he forced his tongue inside of her and—


And he could have her now, couldn’t he. Have her for good.


If she still loved him, even after this


She was as good as his and—


And what would a decent person do? Wasn’t he tryingstill trying to pretendfor her?


He pushed himself off of her even though he really didn’t want to and Frisk looked


Her face was flushed.


Her breathing was heavy.


She looked like she had enjoyed him kissing her and yet


she still—






that he had stopped.


He felt like the scum of the Earth.


“sorry,” he told her, and he was truly sorry that he had screwed this up so badly that the kid could be simultaneously aroused by him kissing her and afraid. And then he said “sorry, i—i love you too.”


And then “there is so much i want to talk to you about.”


And then “kiddo, it’s you and me now. we’re in this together, okay?”


And then he helped her up and he kissed her forehead and he said “i promise i won’t let the RESETs do to you what they did to me.”


And he felt so much love for her at that moment. So much love and so much want and he wanted—


To take her.


But she loved him and so he pretended—


He so frantically pretended that he didn’t.




Things changed between them, and it was like they were just friends again.


Just friends who sometimes kissed.


They talked so much about the RESETs, and it was everything that Sans had wanted. He finally began to feel understood. And it was so nice, when Frisk would say things like,


“Ugh, I just remembered I once spat soda at Grillby that time I laughed too hard at one of your stupid jokes. You don’t think he might still somehow remember that, do you? That was so embarrassing.”


And it was even better, when Sans could say,


“do you remember that time papyrus asked you on that date?”

And then a brief pause and then a groan of recognition. “Oh, godYes! He was so clueless back then—I was twelve!”


And he didn’t mention that the first time he had forced his dick inside her, she had probably been twelve.


He guiltily wondered if she also remembered that.




One morning Sans woke up, and they had been sleeping together again.


Not sleeping together, but—just sleeping, on the same bed. Like before.


The kid was already getting dressed before he even got out of the bed.


She had become—quite liberal, dressing in front of him. And he never saw her in less than her underwear, and he guessed it made sense, with them sharing his room, and her technically still being just a kid and him having already seen her naked—but still


Still, it was—a sight to see. And he should have probably mentioned how tempting it was, but selfishly he never did.


She brightened up when she saw he was awake. “Good morning, lazybones! I gotta go soon. Want to have brunch at Grillby’s later?”


Sans groaned. “are you off to see the weed again?”


“I think he gets lonely,” she told him. “And besides, these past few days he hasn’t once threatened to kill Papyrus. I think I’m getting to him. And I think—I’m starting to suspect he actually likes Papyrus, because—”


He interrupted her. “kid, don’t gush about the weed. i know you’re really wanting friends but not the weed, ok?”


Her face fell. “It’s not that I’m gushing about him. I just think… There has to be some good in Flowey, right? I think he’s actually fond of Papyrus.”


Sans groaned. It was too early to be debating this with Frisk. “from what you’ve told me, that flower is a soulless shell of a thing. kiddo, i know you want to see good in everyone, but this is going to get you hurt more than once. i’ve told you this so many times. and that weed is still going to try to kill my brother unless you let me get my hands on it already—”


“Don’t you think Flowey deserves a chance? I know he can be good, just like you can—”


And Sans was in no mood. “i’m only trying to be good,” he told her, and his eye flashed blue. “doesn’t mean i don’t still want to fuck the shit out of you.”


And there it was.


In a rather poor choice of words, but there it was.


Frisk blushed a deep red. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “Um.”


“…shit. just go, kid. seeing you getting dressed always gets me horny.”


And then Papyrus’ voice called them from the kitchen. It was apparently almost eight in the morning, and the breakfast spaghetti was ready. And Frisk looked like she didn’t know what to do.


Sans grabbed a pillow and pressed it against his face. He groaned. “go. just distract pap for like fifteen minutes. i’ll be down there soon.”


And Frisk hesitated for a small moment but this had become a familiar request. He had asked her to do this before. “Um—Okay.”


And then she left. And Sans pulled down the waistline of his fucking pants,


He was trying to be good. And he was pretending, if not well, at least sufficiently.


And maybe on mornings like these, he screwed up. He said the wrong thing. He startled Frisk and he pointed out the lie.


But then again, on mornings like these, he really fucking resented having to pretend to be good.

Chapter Text

Sans tried hard to be good, tried so hard to be good, but it was so difficult to be good, and obedient, and trustworthy, when he knew exactly where the kid was and by extension where she was with that fucking flower.


Sans wanted to teleport there right now and just kill the weed.


But the kid had asked him, very nicely, not to follow her. The kid had asked and Sans so badly wanted to prove


That he could do what she wanted.


That he could be what she wanted.


And so he stayed far away, and he went to work, and he thought of her.


And perhaps it didn’t help that today was Saturday, so he had to man this ridiculous hot dog stand in Hotland. How had Sans ever thought this job would be a good idea? Sure, there were only so many jobs available in Snowdin. Grillby had outright refused to hire Sans due to his suspicions that Sans might just drink all the ketchup (how did Grillby know Sans so well?).


But, at least right now, he absolutely hated being this far from Snowdin. At least right now, he absolutely hated having to work in Hotland.


And he hated that he had these many jobs. He hated that this particular job took him away from Snowdin. Papyrus had never particularly minded, he was so obsessed with becoming a member of the Royal Guard and training with Undyne, every spare moment was dedicated to his goal. But Frisk


Frisk always seemed to miss him. Frisk always dropped by to visit him at work when he was manning the sentry stations near Snowdin. And when Sans was in Hotland, the kid couldn’t do that.


And he was only here for a few hours.


But this was still his third job and it just left him—


So bone tired to work almost every single day of the week.


He sold a hot dog to a dog monster and couldn’t resist cracking a joke even as he considered quitting all these stupid jobs.


He could always go back to working under the Royal Scientist, even though the Royal Scientist was now Alphys and hell if he didn’t find her main area of study boring. Who picked a biologist as the Royal Scientist? Gaster would have been scandalized. And sure, having a Royal Scientist who understood human biology might be useful, now that Asgore was determined to use human souls to break the barrier, but goddamn


Jesus fucking Christ, Alphys couldn’t even solve the simplest partial derivative in a vector equation and her understanding of quantum physics was laughable at best, how would she ever find another way to break the barrier if the last human never fell?


And speaking of the last human


Gathering souls for Asgore had certainly paid well.


Not that Sans had asked for money, but—it had certainly paid well. And it had required very little hours.


And wouldn’t another human fall down here eventually? Frisk wouldn’t have to know, wouldn’t have to even meet them.


Frisk deserved—So much more from him. More energy. More time.


He wished he didn’t have to work so much. He wondered if the kid just spent the day alone when he and Papyrus were working. And she probably did, didn’t she, with the Monsterbrat out of the picture? That had to stop. She couldn’t just spend his entire work day either alone or with that psychotic flower.


And he should probably just go talk to Asgore—


He felt a sudden burst of frantic need to go to the kid and then the timeline ended.




He was in the bright space again. The redhead, Chara, was arguing heatedly with Frisk but Sans was too far away this time to really hear.


He took two steps. It was getting easier. Chara saw and they angrily pointed at him. This time, the kid turned her head to look at him and her eyes widened. She looked surprised. Not angry, like Chara was—but surprised.


And then Frisk waved at him meekly and Sans heard Chara yell “What are you DOING, waving at your mass murderer!? Are you stupid!? He’s going to kill us! Get him OUT!”


And then they pushed Frisk again and Sans got incredibly angry and Chara yelled “DON’T bring him back in here! RESET!!!"


And then suddenly he was in bed with Frisk again—she'd SAVEd there while she was with him, he felt so guilty—and the world came crashing down.


He instinctively grabbed Frisk and then he froze all of time and then he screamed.


He screamed so loud and he just kept screaming.


Pain, searing pain, his magic oozing out of him in wavesalmost completely out of control. There were several hiccups where time almost moved forward, when Papyrus almost overheard, and it was almost all Sans could do to just keep that little bit of magic firmly in the timespace—


But now, Frisk was suffering through the RESETs, tooNow, he had to do more, he had to make sure Frisk was alright. And so for some reason he moved on top of her and he—


He tried hard to stop screaming and he did.


He tried hard to just focus on her and he did.


And she looked as if she was in her own world, too, like Sans. Her own hell, like Sans. The kid looked horrified and betrayed and just so, so defeated


Just so, so resigned


More memories, probably. They hadn’t come all at once to Sans either. And she sure looked like, by now, she remembered enough.


And he knew that he was probably the reason for the defeat in her face but he still wanted to kiss her and he—


And his magic wasn't cooperating with him. He had turned the room blue. The trash tornado was getting out of control and he needed to stop, he needed to focus


He felt like his bones were on fire, but the kid—


His kid—


She needed him even more than he needed her.


He moved his shaking hands to her cheeks and snapped her out of it.


"we're together," he groaned out, and it hurtit fucking hurt—but his soul was beginning to settle and the rush of memories started to die down and he felt better, he felt significantly better, just holding Frisk. "new timeline, new chance—you said that—right?"


And her eyes were so sad when she looked at him. The kid looked—pathetic


deep, vicious part of him told him that she was pathetic, she was too weak to fight him—If he wanted control


He ignored it. He ignored his thoughts. And instead he mustered up all the control over his magic that he could and the tornado died down and time moved again and then he kissed her


He told her "i love you, please remember that. i love you.”


And then "please don't hate me, kiddo," please.


And she let out a deep sigh and she still looked betrayed and defeated and hurt but she whispered "I love you, too."


And then suddenly he felt the urge to see just how much he could get away with and, before he knew it, his hand was on her neck.


He pushed down. It felt good.


And then he stopped and he let go and—


And he was horrifiedwhat had he just done?


"sorry! sorry," he said and then he kissed her lips, her cheeks, her neck. "i wasn’t—sorry, kiddo. i—"


“I’m fine. Just calm down,” she whispered. She gently moved her hands to push against his chest and asked him “Did I just see you in the blank space?”


He irrationally wondered if he was in trouble.


“Sans—how did you get there?” She gently pushed at him again and suddenly he’d grabbed her by the wrists and pinned her down.


She tensed, and he could tell she was trying hard to remain passive. "Sans. Are you like this through every Reset?" He let go of her wrists as if she’d burned him.


And he wanted to lie and say no.


But instead he said "i—i can get more impulsive. yessorry."


The kid went very quiet then, almost as if she were analyzing him. She was. And then she said, voice very hushed—"Is that why you—"


He didn't have to listen to know exactly what actions of his she was going to ask about. He cut her off. He didn't want to hear it. And maybe he snapped at her, "I thought we were both pretending that I've never hurt you."


And the kid froze under him, and she became even quieter, and she didn’t try to bring it up again.


And Sans was weak.


He kissed her again even though he knew that he shouldn't.


“i’m really sorry.” His voice became softer. "i’m sorry. i didn’t want—i hope that didn’t hurt.”


And then suddenly he wanted to know, “how did you die, kiddo?"


Frisk hesitated. Her voice was small and strangely defensive. "Flowey," she said, and then—"I pushed him," and then—"I'll be more careful this time."


And he almost pinned her to the bed again with his hand around her neck because what the fuck, she was going to the weed again?


"kidno. you are not going to go see that thing again."


"But he wants to hurt Papyrus!" she told him. "I have to, Flowey's just lonely. I—I screwed up last timeline. It was my fault—"


He wanted to yell at her. He wanted to yell and to scream because of course it couldn't be her fucking fault that the psychotic weed had killed her off, what the fuck, how self-sacrificing could she be


She was going to get hurt so many times if she kept this up and—


And wasn’t he significantly worse than the flower?


Hadn’t he done even worse?


This thing she did—blaming herself, sacrificing herself—did she also do it—with him?


Was that what kept her here and in his bed and at his complete, fucked up version of mercy? Was that what kept her tied to him? He had done far worse to her than just killing her and she was still with him. Was she applying the same self-sacrificing forgiveness to him that she was to the flower?


Was he the same in her eyes as that fucking weed?


He was too selfish to asktoo selfish to point it out. And he told himself—selfishly—that he couldn’t possibly be the same to her as the fucking flower, because she loved him. She trusted him. And so, if anything—he was far, far worse


Far more despicable—


And so he pretended—that he hadn't heard her saying that.


Instead, he tried to keep her away from the weed by other means. "stay with me today, kiddo? i don't work until eleven, and papyrus is leaving to undyne's right after breakfast."


Frisk’s face paled at that. She sounded frantic, "That's exactly why I have to go to Flowey!"


"it will be fine," he told her, and he planted a kiss against her neck. "come on, kiddo. please? i've missed you."


"I can't," she told him, but he could change that. He trailed his magic along her waist, her hips...


He licked her neck and she gave out the most delicious whimper.


And he was starting to get aroused. He pushed her. "come on. do this for me? we can RESET if anything happens. i'll help. just please, kiddo? pleasei really want you right now."


He rode up her shirt and she just lay there and didn’t fight him and he started massaging the magic up her torso until he almost reached her chest. He licked her ear and she seemed to like it. "sweetheart. please? i'll be goodi promise. i just want—to touch you again. like we used to, remember?"


He didn’t give her time to answer. "you like this, you know you do," he told her, and then he bit her ear and he moved his hands and he was massaging his magic into her hips again. "please? just this once? sweetheart, kiddoi need this.


"unless of course you want me to just kill the weed," he mused, and a part of him wanted that, and the other part—didn't care.


He didn't care if the flower lived or died at this point as long as he had her writhing under him.


And they had done this before, right? They had done this, and she had liked it, and it couldn't be that bad—to do it again


"Please don't," she said, and she sounded defeated, but please don't what? Please don't kill Flowey? Please don't stop? She wasn't specific, and so he kept going...


He felt the exact moment the kid just gave up when she went limp under him.


And she had done this before, given him complete control. He had conquered her like this so many times. He became too bold. He shoved his hand under her pants. And he hadn’t ever rubbed her clit while simply petting her before, he had saved that kind of boldness for when they were about to fuck—


When she was about to die.


But now, he was about to.


And thank goodness that she was wearing his baggy sweatpants.


And he wondered how far he could take it without drowning in guilt?


He found her spot. The kid suddenly cried out. "Stop!"


But the cry was so hushed and so he—


Papyrus’ voice called them from the kitchen. “ANOTHER GREAT BREAKFAST IS READY, BROTHER AND HUMAN!!!”


Sans groaned. He had forgotten that Pap would do that.


It was almost 8 AM again. Breakfast spaghetti was ready.


Sans forced himself to remove his hand from the kid’s pants. He kissed her cheek. “sorry. i love you. maybe some other time?”


And he couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty and maybe he had taken things too far again.






"Um, no, thanks, Papyrus," Frisk said after she finished chewing her last bite. Sans smiled. She was so well-mannered for a kid. "I'm absolutely full. But thank you."


And Sans almost laughed because this time he had noticed how the kid stuffed more than half of her syrup-covered spaghetti into her bag.


What a clever child.


He loved her.


He couldn't help but mouth a Real breakfast at Grillby's? to the kid while Pap wasn't looking at them. 


And the kid looked away. She looked uncertain. And Sans knew that she was probably thinking about that fucking flower.


Or maybe she was thinking about him? Was she scared of him now?


Sans felt a sudden surge of guilt when he thought of how he had completely misread her earlier. And hadn't he done that at least a little on purpose?


Sans kept playing with what little spaghetti he hadn't disappeared, and then he muttered into his plate, a bit cryptically because Papyrus would overhear, "no hands this time."


And Papyrus said, "WHAT?"


"i'm just making myself a promise, pap. gonna sell the hot dogs without touching 'em this time."


And Papyrus looked at him with concern and disgust. "DO YOU REGULARLY TOUCH THE FOOD THAT YOU SELL?"


Frisk laughed. Her eyes were wide and bright and she was looking at Papyrus.


But still she said, "sounds like a good resolution."


And then she looked at him and she gave him a small smile and she mouthed Okay.




They hadn't gone to Grillby's together in a long time. Sans found that he had missed her company here, until he caught Grillby staring at him.

"hey, b. still pancakes, right kiddo?"


And Frisk nodded. At least that much hadn't changed. So Sans grinned and he held up two fingers and said "the usual pancakes, b."


And Grillby did not look amused. He looked like he wanted to give Sans a stern talking to. But still he left, and Sans made a mental note to not come back here alone any time soon.


Grillby could be scary when he wanted a word with Sans.


Breakfast came, and since when did Grillby add free chocolate sprinkles to the kid’s pancakes? The kid had definitely won him over in the months Sans hadn’t been around.


They goofed around like usual as they ate. Frisk rolled her eyes at him more than once. And they had a nice enough time, sitting there again together, but something about Frisk felt odd.


Her laughs were shorter.

Her smiles were smaller.

And she rarely, if ever, looked at him.




He kissed Frisk on the forehead goodbye and again relived his awful shift in Hotland. Again Sans worried about Frisk. Again he worried about being so far away from Snowdin. Again he considered just quitting his ridiculously many jobs.


The dog monster once again bought a hot dog and this time he didn’t think he had anything funny to say.


He began to feel tense. If the timeline was going to RESET, it was about to happen soon…


And it was so unfair that Frisk would willingly risk her life like that for that stupid flower. Didn’t she ever think about what the RESETs did to Sans? They hurt—they fucking hurt—and of course the kid didn’t owe him anything—


Dying, to her, probably alsohurt. And yet he had killed her more times than he could count.


But still, the anxiety—the ever present dread of facing another RESET at any given moment—it was one of the things—


That made him so—


So anxious. So desperate. So angry, so lonely, so afraid, so detached. So sad. So tired. So hopeless.


It was too much to take at once and he often resented, he so often resented, that the Resets were so tied to the survival skills of an Anomaly who wasn’t even halfway into her teens.


Frisk was just a kid.


And what was he doing, so completely obsessed and so hopelessly and selfishly in love with just a kid.




Frisk didn’t come back right away after Sans came home from work. Once again, Papyrus came home before she did. And then Sans read Pap his bedtime story and his brother fell asleep—


And there was no way the kid was still with the flower by now. He sensed her in her hiding spot.


Sans sighed. The kid still didn’t have that much experience with RESETs and conscious memories. The kiddo was probably having a bad time and was therefore hiding where she so often did.


Sans gave her ten minutes, but she didn’t move.


It was very dark outside. He began to get antsy.


He took out his phone and texted her.

kid, i’m gonna stop by in 5 min – Sans


And he gave her enough of a warning. He sensed this was going to be a hard chat. He hadn’t thought back then—all those times he had hurt her—that they would one day come back and bite him in the—


Well, the tailbone.


And maybe he should just leave her alone and let her sort it out?


He let couldn’t do that of course. But wouldn’t it have been nice if he could.


Five minutes passed. He went to Frisk.


He found her crying.

Chapter Text

The kid was crying. That much, Sans had expected, although it didn't hurt him any less.


She looked visibly uncomfortable with his presence. He had expected that, too. He had even kind of looked forward to it, had thought maybe this would be what he needed to finally tear himself away from the kid, had thought maybe this would be enough for him to finally have some shame and give into his guilt and just—leave


Just leave and stay away from the poor kid


But apparently he had no such luck.


He still was inexplicably and overwhelmingly attached to her.


And Sans had expected to feel like scum, when he found her sitting on the ground crying so pathetically like that. He had expected to feel lower than dirt. And he didhe really did—but then the kid looked away from him and there was—


There was shame in her, too. There was guilt.


And he hadn't expected—for the kid to wipe away her tears as fast as she did. He hadn't expected for her to look so, so ashamed. So guilty. So dirty.


So used.


But then he reminded himself that at least more than once he had made her enjoy it, hadn’t he? And maybe they were both just each other's personal hell.


Maybe they were and maybe even that wasn't enough to tear themselves away from each other, because they were each other's respite too, weren't they? They were and so they needed each other even when he made them both hurt and so Sans gathered up all his courage and his strength—


The kid wiped away her tears


And then Sans sat in front of her. He moved the kid’s hands away from her face and she flinchedShit. The kid’s eyes stayed firmly focused on the ground beside him.


"I thought you said five minutes," she said, rubbing a sleeve against her face, and she sounded so childishso small and so embarrassed. He leaned towards her.


"kiddo, it's been five minutes," he told her. He cupped her cheeks. He kissed her forehead, and when he pressed a tentative kiss against her soft lips, she didn’t refuse him and he held in a sigh of relief. “i’m here to check on you.”


“I’m fine,” she told him, and Sans almost laughed. His kid could be so stubborn, so determined.


He loved her, but she was hurting herself.


“frisk, buddy—i may not have eyeballs, but i’m not blind,” he told her. “come on, you can tell me. i’ve been through every reset, remember? is this about a bad run? something you did?”

She shrugged.


“is this about—something i did?”


She—“It’s nothing. I’m fine. Can you take me to your place? I’m pretty sure the Inn is closed.”


He again felt the frantic, protective need to shake some sense into her. “tv and then bed? with me?”


“Sure,” she said flatly, and gave an undignified sniffle. Her eyes were dead set on the ground and Sans—


frisk. what is wrong with you. i killed you. i did worse. stop pretending you don’t remember.”


The kid suddenly got up. Her hands were shaking. She grabbed her umbrella. “You know, if you don’t want me to stay over, I can just go knock on the door at the Inn.”


He pulled her back down to him by the wrist. And perhaps it wasn’t wise that he sat her on his lap—


It wasn’t wise at all, she felt unbelievably good


He held her closer to him, pressed a kiss against her neck. She felt so good, too good against him


He was so often tempted by her.


He changed his mind about his lap and pushed her off of him and into the ground and got on top of her and then he kissed her and they’d had sex in here before, did she remember?


Could she possibly like it if they did that again?


“of course i want you to stay over. i love it when you do,” he told her and he pressed a flutter of kisses down her cheek, her neck—he licked—she gasped—his hands went blue and then he grabbed her waist—“you have no idea what you do to me when you decide to sleep with me in my bed. but kiddo—”


Another lick. A small, shy moan. He let himself push his hips against hers, materialized his cock—


He licked and nibbled her earlobe and then he told her, voice as soft as he could make it, “frisk, i really don’t want to ruin this, this time. is this okay?”


She stilled. He—he wasn’t proud of it, but he moved his hands down to her hips and pressed her tightly against his erection. He wanted to take—


Her clothes off—


He wanted to pull down his pants


i love you,” he whispered against her ear, and he was so wanting this, he was so full of lust—“i—i know i’ve messed this up before, kiddo, but—if you’re really fine—do you want—”


She pushed her hands against his chest oh so gently and this time, he listened.


He stopped.


He pressed one last kiss against her neck and then he—he wanted to get off of her—


He couldn’t.


Sans loved her, but he couldn’t.


He kept himself completely motionless on top of her. Their hips were no longer touching. He pressed his forehead against hers. “i’m sorry.”


And Frisk was completely mute. Frisk was probably never going to talk to him again.


He was—that he would try that here—where he had raped her—


He was despicable.


He hated himself.


And he loved her, he really did love her, but he—


The kid finally spoke, voice so quiet that he could barely hear it. But he made out the words—


“You are not—a very good person.” And he froze.


“You could be good,” she continued, and she sounded so sad, so defeatedso tired and so—“You could be so good. But you aren’t, and I tried so hard—to believe that you were.”


So hopeless. “I can’t believe I kept defending you to Chara.”


That stung. It hurt. “frisk, i—”


“I still love you,” she told him, and it was like relief and dread and pain mixed in him all at once because she wasn’t even  looking at him, she wasn’t being herself, she sounded so disappointed in him and she—“I still love you, but you—Sans, you are such a bad monster and they knew. Chara kept telling me. Even Flowey tried to warn me and I—I kept excusing you.


“I feel so stupid,” she said, and her voice was so small, so hopeless and so sad, it sounded like a confession.


He didn’t know if he dared to try kissing her. “kiddo, you—you’re not. you’re perfect. you are so smart and beautiful and—frisk, the things i did—i’m really sorry—i did them because i am so in love with you, kid. you’re wonderful. i’m sorry. i’m really sorry. i didn’t think—i am so used to having the timeline just RESET, i thought—“


He didn’t know what he thought.


He hid his face against her neck.


“i really do just wanted to have you, kid.”


She sighed. The kid wrapped her arms around him.


It felt like such a bitter sort of forgiveness and the act just made Sans feel so small.


So pathetic.


So filthy.


He wasn’t—ever—going to be enough for this kid.




He teleported them out of there after she expressed that she hated being inside that cave. She didn’t tell him why, and yet he knew.


It was because of him. It was yet another thing ruined for her because of him.


And he didn’t think. He teleported them to his room and she winced.


He’d fucked her in here, too, and now she was alone with him.


He felt so guilty. “look, do you just want to—“


“Um—No. This is fine. Thanks. Can we just go downstairs and watch tv for a while?”


A pause from him and then she asked him “Is that okay?”


“yeah—but kiddo, are you really okay with us just—“


Her eyes got slightly wet. She looked like she was about to cry again. But then she frowned slightly and she looked so determined and she said—


“This is a new timeline.” Her voice was  firm and so determined and just so in denial that it made Sans wince. “This is a new chanceI love you, so please—“


So please let me forget about the other times, was what the kid was asking.


He knew her so well.


And he kind of really felt tempted to just do that.


And if he did as she asked, would that be enough?


Would she let them just go back to the way they had been before, if he agreed—if they both agreed—to just keep pretending he had never hurt her? Would she allow him to escalate, even—if he played his cards right—


He felt so selfish for wondering if she would ever let him fuck her if he just waited patiently enough, if he touched her well enough, if he—


If he made her feel guilty enough—


He had done the things he’d done to her, after all, because he wanted her. And shouldn’t she just give in, if she didn’t want him to force her? Shouldn’t she just spread her legs—she’d already done that for him before—It couldn’t be that bad, for her, compared to the past timelines—He could be gentler

She might even love it.


He weighed his options very carefully before he admitted “it might be a new timeline but i’m still the same.”


She pressed a kiss to his chin and it sent what felt like butterflies through his chest. She had gotten taller, since they’d met—she was getting close to the point where she would no longer have to stand on her toes to do that. “You can be better,” she told him. “I know you can. Please, Sans? Just try.”


He was very honest, for very selfish reasons. “i’m getting tired of trying.”


And then her encouragement took on a hint of desperation. She told him "I can help you, you don't have to do it alone. Sans, I can help, I love you—"


"i love you too, kiddo," he told her, and he did, he really did, but he was so tempted by her and what was he doing, hoping to get what he wanted out of her like this. His throat went dry. His hand pushed away a few strands of her unruly short hair from her face and was it getting longer? Was that even possible?


 And he couldn't bring himself—to tell her how badly he wanted to fuck her.


He couldn't tell her how badly he needed his dick in her and to have her under him, willing—or mounted above him, still willing—or on her knees or on all fours or in any possible position as long as she wanted him, as long as she was eager to let him fuck her, as long as she let him do whatever he wanted to her and—


And in the end, all he wanted was to not feel so alone.


In the end, all he needed was her.


And he loved her but he wanted her and sometimes those two things could be so incompatible


She took his hand. She pulled him down to her.

She kissed him so timidly and the kiss was so innocent that he was afraid that he would taint it by his presence alone.


He did more. He pulled her to him, wrapped his hands across the small of her back. He prodded her mouth open with his tongue. And this was what he needed. This was what she was so hesitant to give.


He explored every inch of her mouth with his tongue and let his hands roam freely through her body. 


She just took it.


That encouraged him.


And then suddenly she was on his bed and he didn't know how it had happened, but his hands were under her shirt.


He caught a brief glimpse of her expression and she looked so resigned. He looked away and didn't look again.


And then he started slowly taking off her pants and he was giving her plenty of notice, but she didn't fight.


Suddenly she was naked. A flash of blue. He'd gotten impatient again. He felt guilt. He was going to end up burying himself too fast into her again.


This was not at all how he had wanted his first time to be with Frisk. Not with her looking so sad and so resigned.


He told her so. "this isn't exactly how i envisioned this."


And then "kid—are you sure?"


He felt her face press against his chest. "this isn't bad if i just let you, right?"

And ah—She was a good girl. So smart. So clever. She had caught on to what it was precisely that he needed and yes, he needed to have her just let him


And a part of him felt victorious, and another part of him felt guilt, guilt, guilt


This wasn't consent.


But she thought that it was, and that was good enough that she would never back away.


And he was going to make her feel so good before he took her, that it wouldn't really matter if there was consent.


It wouldn't even matter that she was fourteen.


And this was wrong of him to do. This was very wrong.


He moved himself down towards her entrance and forced her thighs apart and she almost jumped away, she pushed at him.


"What are you doing—!?" she asked him, panicked. Sans almost laughed because in the end she was just such an inexperienced child


He calmed her down with a gentle reassurance that "shhh, you'll like this, i promise, just relax."


And she didn't quite entirely relax—she was so tense with nervousness and fear—but she didn't exactly fight him and she remained motionless enough for him to press a small kiss against her clit and then he took out his tongue and he tasted her.


She tasted so, so unbelievably good and he had never done this with Frisk before, he wished she had given in to him ages ago. The kid jumped slightly—maybe she’d flinched?—and she was so shy, so reluctant it was adorable


He took his hands to her hips and held her down and he licked and he sucked and he stuck his tongue inside her—


She cried out his name. "S-Sans—!"


He looked up from between her legs and what a nice view, he should end every day like this. And wouldn't it be nice when she finally sucked him off, eventually.


He could get her to do it, he was confident he could—


He moved his mouth away from her and very slowly pushed a finger inside of her and grinned. "kiddo, sweetheart, you taste so good.


"do you want me to make you come like this or would you prefer to do that around my cock?"


And her face was red with more than just shame when she let out a weak "W-what?" in between all her soft little gasps and moans and—


And it just occurred to Sans that the kid couldn't possibly have any idea of what he was talking about. She was completely innocent. Sans himself had insisted on keeping any and all media in the house rated PG or below for Frisk’s and Papyrus’ sake, and she had fallen down here so young


She probably didn’t even know what he was doing.


It shouldn't have made him so hard as it did to figure that out.


He was corrupting her. He really shouldn't. He was doing all sorts of things to her that she wasn't supposed to be doing now and certainly not with him and definitely not coerced


She was going to hate him, when she finally figured out how much he was taking advantage of her. She was going to hate him, but Sans was so weak


He couldn't bring himself to care. He moved himself up and positioned his dick in front of her entrance.


She was so wet, it might not even hurt her as badly if he just slammed himself all the way in.


And he was scared, he was really nervous, this wasn't how he had wanted his first real time with Frisk at all. And maybe he should just go ahead and slam it in and get this over with. Maybe he should just do it. I would feel good either way. It had always felt good—had felt amazing—to force her to take him, no mtter how much she cried. He would still come from using her. He could still force her to take him again. She would probably still think she was consenting, and wasn't this brutality all she knew about sex?


Wasn't this all he had taught her? Sex meant pain for her and unwanted pleasure and bliss taken from her, for him.


He could reinforce that lesson. His cock twitched at the thought. He pushed himself against her, the tip of his dick started to go in.


He met the usual barrier. It was always nice to find out she’d waited for him.


She shut her eyes tight and braced herself.


His first real time with Frisk and she was already expecting pain.


Did he really love her that little?


He stopped.


He couldn't do it.


He gave her a kiss on the forehead that was so chaste, it reminded him of the first and only time he had ever kissed her without any underlying impure thought. It had been that time she’d presented a drawing of him, her and Papyrus and told him how much she loved spending time with him and his bro. This had been back when she very rarely spoke any words to him. She had probably been eleven. And he'd treasured that moment, had treasured that drawing, he had spoken to Toriel for days about how happy and confident he was that he could raise this kid and—


And back then, he had been so sure Frisk could be more like a child to him. Perhaps not his own, but maybe like his own? He'd caught himself more than once wondering if he could be more like a dad or an uncle to the poor kid who was the cause of the RESETs. With him knowing about the RESETs, it had only seemed fitting that he would take her under his wing, once she remembered.


The drawing itself had been erased a million timelines ago.


His hopes that he could be anything but poison to Frisk had died when he first noticed how alluring her pink lips suddenly looked.


But he could still, even if he was damaging her—he could still at least hope for a few pure moments with Frisk, couldn't he?


Just a few little moments that didn't feel so wrong. A few little moments that could feel like—before.


He felt like he was stealing those moments from someone else, someone who might selflessly want the best for her.


Not him.


He gave her a soft peck on the lips.


"i love you," he told her. "you are absolutely everything i could ever want. do you understand that? do you know how much i want you? you are so much more than i could ever deserve, frisk."


She blushed. He resisted the urge to kiss her again. And there it was again, written all over her face


She was looking at him in a way that a man like him should never be looked at, with so much faith in him and adoration for him that it made him feel


Like he could be better than he could possibly be.


He ran his fingers through her hair and they were fingers stained with blood. The blood of five humans was on him, including hers. He couldn't ever be worthy of this kid. And if she'd seen him


If she'd seen the desperate way he'd murdered the girl in the ballerina outfit—


If she'd seen the apathetic way he'd taken the life out of the smallest boy with the blue soul—


If she had seen the way he had purposefully let the blood coat his bones as he'd killed that one girl who had begged for mercy, how he had pinned her down as she bled and played with her blood and coldly marveled at the slight stickiness of it, how he had briefly wondered what it might feel like to fuck her as she died but had decided against it because she had looked much too young


She hadn't been significantly younger than Frisk had been when he had first fucked her.


And that other kid. The only one who had fought. Hadn't he been only at most a few years older than Frisk?


Would they have become friends, if they had met? Could they have been more?


And what would Frisk say if she knew that he was considering killing the next human that fell?


She would be horrified by him, she would be disgusted. There was so much the kid didn't know about him and that Sans selfishly and cowardly kept in the dark.


Whatever it took to keep her tied to him.


He forced himself to off of the kid.


"i’m sorry. i really don't want to screw this up. you deserve so much better than me, frisk. do you want to just watch tv for now?"


Frisk nod came so immediately that his chest hurt from the quick rejection. No supplications to continue, no begging for more... She was so unlike anyone he'd ever slept with.


All the adult women he'd ever slept with.


And maybe he should consider the possibility of asking the kid if she minded—if he got his sexual needs met somewhere else.


He pushed those thoughts aside and focused on Frisk.


"i think mettatton's movie marathon is still on. i know you'll hate it. we could make fun of it together."


A shy smile. And then suddenly Sans noticed that the kid was still naked. He passed her a t-shirt, a pair of his sweatpants and stared at the floor uncomfortably.


He felt like guilt and like sin and like lust.


"i'll go, uh, make the popcorn."


And before the kid said anything, he disappeared.

Chapter Text

The next day, when Sans woke up, the kid was on the far end of the bed and away from him but she was still there.

He moved toward her and pulled her close. He pressed a kiss against her neck and she stirred.

It felt almost like they were together. As in, together-together—a real relationship. Perhaps they were? The thought of asking her made him nervous. He had never been in one of those before and yet with Frisk he kind of wanted to—

She was a child.

But she could remember him.

He felt like such a conflicted mess. He grinded his hips against the kid’s ass.

And no, he really shouldn’t be doing that

He whispered an “i love you” against the kid’s neck and then he rolled away from her.

And he kind of—he felt bad about it—but he kind of missed the safety net of the RESETs.

There was no room for error, now. If he wanted Frisk, he couldn’t afford any mistakes.

And he really had to talk to the kid about keeping things at least sort of platonic. And he really had to bring up the idea that maybe he should start getting off with someone else. But how was he supposed to suggest that to an impressionable child? And did he really want his kid’s first relationship to start like that?

And what was he thinking? It had already started even worse thanks to him.

If it had even started. 

And it—It shouldn’t start. They shouldn’t be having anything, not even this—whatever it was. Not until she was much older, if ever, because he was always going to be significantly older than her, wasn’t he?

He was a really sick fuck.

And at this point, should it even matter? At this point, should he even care? He had already done so much worse to her and she had forgiven him—

No, no, she was actively denying that he had done anything. That was much different

He sat up. He got up from the bed.

The kid’s eyes opened slightly. “Isn’t it a little too early for you to get up? Doesn’t your shift start at eleven?”

And there was no fucking way he was going to Hotland today.

He lied to her. “got an early start today. i’m going to try to sell breakfast hot dogs, see how that goes.”

She groaned at that. Pulled the covers over her head. “Well, good luck with that,” she told him sarcastically. And then, after a small silence—“I love you, too.”

He kissed the bulky lump of bed sheets that covered her head. He told her he’d see her later today. He went down the stairs. He had breakfast as normal with Papyrus and he couldn’t come up with any puns.

He thought. He was deep in thought. Science or soul collecting?

Which one would be the better job?

If he were to start working as a scientist again, Frisk might be proud of him. She might even be impressed. He briefly daydreamed what it would feel like if she ever helped him button up his lab coat before he went to work. He had always just left it unbuttoned. Had ruined a few shirts with acid in the process.

It might feel good, to be a paid scientist again. It might feel good, to have Frisk be proud of him.

But the hours had been so long. Sometimes, he’d barely made it back to the house before he collapsed, and then he had to get up in the morning and do it all over again

And Papyrus had suffered so. Sans had so often blamed himself because he was hardly ever there. He didn’t want that to happen again with Frisk. Spending more time with her was the reason he wanted to quit his stupid jobs in the first place.

So collecting souls, then.

Easy enough. Simple enough. No actual work needed to be done until another human fell down and it wasn’t like Sans exactly lacked the experience. It paid well; Asgore was always so thankful that he wouldn’t have to get his own hands dirty—

Heck, he was even helping a friend. He was helping King Asgore.

And he was keeping Frisk out of trouble because, if she ever somehow made it into the castle during one of her seventh-soul-here-to-save-all-monsters outbursts, he could just spank her and then have her turn back.

Or maybe fuck her, if they were at that point by then.

So executioner job, for sure. Collecting souls was the clear winner. Sans’ promise to Toriel had certainly not extended to an eighth human falling down. And it wasn’t like—he’d minded the soul collecting—

But this was still a huge deal. This was something that Frisk could never, ever find out about.

And he was doing this for her and for them but she could just never, in a million timelines, find out.

She would be so disappointed in him. Her words still stung as they rang in the back of his mind—

She could not believe that she had defended him to Chara.

He had been past defending. He was a bad monster. He had—

He had disappointed Frisk, who so loved him.

He couldn’t do that again and so he couldn’t let her find out and—

Papyrus sounded deeply concerned. “SANS? ARE YOU ALRIGHT? YOU’VE BARELY SAID TWO WORDS TODAY.”

“uh—sorry, pap. i was thinking about how early it was.”

Papyrus frowned at him. “IT’S ALMOST NINE, SANS.”

Sans put on a huge grin and he shrugged. “too early for me on a sunday. i’m starting to think i shouldn’t sell breakfast hot dogs as a regular thing.”

“YOU’RE DOING WHAT!?” his brother’s voice was laced with disgust.

“gonna try to sell breakfast hot dogs,” he repeated, grin still in place and now slightly more genuine. Then he purposefully muttered, for his own added amusement, “gonna definitely try to not touch them this time.”


“welp, would you look at the time,” Sans said as he winked. “it’s almost nine. gotta go sell breakfast hot dogs. probably clean ones, this time—” 

Pap let out a half-shriek. 

“—but i can make no promises. didn’t have time to wash my hands after using the bathroom today, after all,” Sans lied.

Papyrus gave a full, agonizing shriek this time. Sans suppressed a laugh. He waved goodbye to his brother and then ran off before Pap noticed he hadn’t done his dishes—again.


He would really have to do something extra nice for Papyrus one of these days. Maybe a second “battle armor”?

He was in the Core as soon as he walked out the door and then suddenly Sans had quite a bit of time to kill.

King Fluffybuns was usually a morning person—unlike Sans—but he was still not usually in his garden until at least after nine.

Sans checked the time on his phone.

It was eight fifty-seven.

He would give the King about twenty minutes. He decided to text Frisk to kill time.

I’m bonely without you, kid – Sans


He wondered if he should have a glamburger and then decided against it. Sequins in a hamburger were not his favorite thing. Instead he just messed around with Burgerpants. He kept trying to sell him hot dogs. That kid was so hilarious, he should try doing standup or something. Or maybe his hilarity was not intentional? Either way, Sans was fond of the kid.


He briefly wondered what he himself had been like as a teen. He couldn't remember.


He couldn't remember what it was like to be as young as Frisk.


And there was so much wrong to what he was doing to Frisk. He had so much more experience than her, and she was—a kid, she was just a little kid. And she was so good.


So sweet.


So kind.


So beautiful.


And he was—he was a lot worse than she was. He was lower than dirt. He was pain and blood and agony and death


They didn't belong together.


But he was selfish and he so wanted her


The kid texted him back.


Frisk - Papyrus is mad cause you didn't tell him I had spent the night


Sans laughed.


too late for him to make another batch of his great spaghetti? - Sans


Frisk - Lol. You ass.

Frisk- He's making some right now before he goes.


what? where is he going? - Sans


Frisk - Undyne's, where else?


Something twitched inside Sans' chest. He hadn't known Papyrus would do that. The kid was going to spend the morning alone, after he'd found her crying last night?


He wasn't about to let that happen to his kid.


i love you. stay home after he leaves - Sans

operation breakfast hot dogs looks like a complete failure - Sans

i'll be there soon - Sans


And then he materialized in front of King Asgore's garden. He looked at his clock. 9:10. Close enough to twenty minutes.


A wave of relief washed over him when he found the king in the garden. The garden itself was a nice enough place, full of color and filtered sunlight. Sans hadn’t been there in a while. The goat monster looked happy to see him. He greeted him as he watered his field of golden flowers.


"Sans! Howdy! What a nice surprise. Would you like some tea?"


"no, thanks, king a. just dropping by to tell you that i changed my mind about the souls. I can get the last one, if you still want me to."


Asgore's eyes widened with surprise and with relief. "Sans, that is some news. Are you sure…?"


Sans shrugged. "yeah, why not. i know how much you hate doing it, but being made of bone”—he winked—“it doesn't really get on my nerves, if you know what i mean." And he was joking, only he wasn’t. And Sans really didn’t like feeling so heartlesshah—but he felt no remorse. He felt nothing.


Just one more human and that would be that. Sans was nothing if not pragmatic.


The king let out a short, startled laugh. “If you really mean it, the job is yours. I really appreciate you doing this. I know from experience… It’s not… a nice job.”—he paused for a moment and Sans was sure that he was recollecting his two souls, he wondered what it was like to feel regret—“I’ll tell Undyne that your job title has changed, if that is really what you want.”


“uh, actually please don’t tell anyone. i wouldn’t want for pap to know what i was up to.”

King Asgore didn’t question him, and Sans knew he understood. “Of course. And as for payment, would the usual amount…”

Sans almost laughed. “ya know, if you just paid our rent and my tab at grillby’s, i would be more than happy with that.”

“Just that? But—”

Sans waved him off. He trusted the King. “yeah, i’m not complaining about whatever you choose. just pay me what you want. it’s all going to papyrus anyway.” And Frisk.


He disappeared before Asgore insisted on talking about a salary because ugh, that was too much effort to think about.

He found the kid in the living room looking through one of his books on quantum mechanics.

It—It really turned him on to see her doing that.


“heya, kid.” He gave her a kiss on the forehead before plopping himself down on the couch next to her. “you thinking about learning about the wonderful world of physics?”

Frisk snorted. “More like I got tired of groaning at your super lame joke books. I can’t really understand any of this.”

“well, let’s see,” he said, and pulled the kid closer to him so that she was leaning against his chest. He kissed her again on the back of the head before looking over her. “what do we have here? you’re reading about the electron spin! d’you know what an electron is?”

“Um—I think so,” she told him, but she sounded unsure.

How old had she been when she’d fallen down here again? Ten? Toriel had once said she’d built up a curriculum for the kid, but somehow Sans doubted that it was heavily focused on more than the most basic science.


And the kid was fourteen.


Had he dropped the ball, here? Should he be teaching her algebra right now and algebra based classical physics and basic chemistry or something? Toriel had never said


But then again he had been too busy trying to fuck the kid to worry about homeschooling.


He felt like the world’s worst—




He kept talking to Frisk about physics.

“do protons, neutrons and electrons ring a bell?” he asked her.

“Like, parts of an atom?”

He kissed the top of her head and thanked his lucky stars that his kid had at least been taught what an atom was. “yes! very good. now spin is just a type of angular momentum. d’you know what momentum is? it’s basically what keeps objects moving after you apply a force. now, a force is—d’you know what a force is?”

“You, um, lost me at ‘angular momentum’.”

“oh. sorry. i’m not good at explaining things. this book isn’t very good either. if you want to learn more about spin, i have a better textbook—” He was hopeless with children.

“Um. No. That’s quite alright.  To be honest, this is kind of making my brain hurt.”

He wrapped his arms around her, rested his head on top of hers and whined, “but now i want to teach you.”

She scoffed dramatically. “Are you really trying to pressure me into learning physics?”

“shouldn’t you know, as the anomaly?” he asked. He immediately regretted asking. That sounded—way too clinical. “i mean—sorry—i mean, you’re the one causing all the RESETs, maybe if you understood the nature of what you were altering—”


“Sans, I don’t do it on purpose.”


And that was that.

He wasn’t about to fight her on it.


Or maybe he was. This wasn’t just her life she was messing with. “well, maybe you should try to do it on purpose. if you really have that much power, you should at least try to learn to control it.”


“I can’t control when I die,” she argued with him. The lights of Sans’ eyes rolled inside his eye sockets. It was Smartass Teenager Frisk again, here to annoy the fuck out of Sans.


“you’ve died climbing up trees,” he reminded her. “you’ve died trying to befriend psychotic flowers. you know, if you just stayed close to me—”


Right,” she said sarcastically, “because it’s so much better when you kill me.”


He hated the way she was so right. She hadn’t entirely let go of his sins like she pretended. “i can protect you,” he said angrily. He bit back an insult. “you know i can, if you’d just listened to me half the times you wouldn’t have accidentally died nearly as many times as you have.”


“I haven’t accidentally died that many—”

“roughly thirty percent of your independent deaths have been accidents,” he told her, once again rolling the lights of his eye sockets. She was so stubborn. “forty percent have been battle-induced. twenty percent unknown. ten percent other. i’ve kept track.” He’d been studying her.


She caught on quicker than he had thought she might. “My ‘independent deaths’? Are you really seriously telling me this? You mean the deaths that you didn’t cause, right? How can you be so—”

She went quiet. And it really wouldn’t do to have her being this emotional over his research. She was never going to learn more about the RESETs that way. And maybe he had overestimated how much he could teach—


He felt like a jerk. He almost understood her and yet he didn’t.

She moved away from him. The kid looked like she was almost literally biting her tongue. She didn’t want to fight him. And that was fine.


Suddenly Sans noticed how quiet the room was. He changed the subject.


“how come the tv is off?”

The kid still sounded angry but she said “Ugh. Infomercials.”

He shared her disapproval. Nothing good was ever on tv this early. And then he felt the sudden want to start kissing her—


Maybe there were other ways they could blow off the tension between them.

The kid suddenly asked: “How come you’re back so early?”

He was very honest in his dishonesty. “breakfast hot dogs was the worst idea i ever had.”

She let out a short laugh. “Of course it was.”

And then he gathered up his courage and he moved towards her, hands to her waist, pressed a kiss against the side of her neck. “mmm-hmm.”


She stiffened. “Sans—”

“i missed you,” he told her, and he pressed another kiss, and then another, and his magic was starting to act up… “i don’t want to fight. please? i just want—”

She picked the book up again and it was a dirty move, it was really dirty, she flipped it open to a random page and pointed at the first thing she saw—Euler’s number. “What does this e stand for?”

He groaned against her neck. “that’s the base of a natural logarithm. it's basically 3.”

“3? Why not just write down 3?”

look, kid, i’m really horny—”

She picked at his pride, it was a really dirty move. “I thought you were good at this science thing.”


He pulled himself off of her. “jeez. it’s not really 3. it’s—a very long number. a constant. roughly 2.72, not like it matters much, if you’re dealing with very high or very small orders of magnitude.”

“Why does it keep showing up everywhere?”

“it’s—a very important number. look, kiddo, i don’t mind this some other time, but if you’re faking interest right now to distract me from—”

She was trying to distract him. “Teach me math?”

And that—that really backfired for the kid, if she was trying to keep him off of her.

He lunged at her.

She gave out a little squeak but he quickly muffled it with his magic against her lips, his tongue down her throat, his hands on her waist and he was so, so turned on by the idea of little apprentice Frisk learning from him and he had to stop—he had to stop himself—no sex, no sexdon’t fuck this up—


A sharp little moan against his mouth when his hands began rubbing circles of blue magic under her shirt. And suddenly she got very bold, she was kissing him back


This was bad, this was very bad


He was on top of her and he felt her roughly hit his chest with a closed fist and she was probably still angry at being talked about like the Anomaly that she was, but then she stuck her hands under his coat—they moved down and under his shirt


And he didn’t think that she had ever done that to him before—


But if she wanted angry sex, he could give her that


He had his own far more selfish reasons to be pissed off at her, too. He was still pretty pissed about the flower and the last RESET. And he was honestly quite angry that he had to be subjected to extreme pain and erased timelines and yet more isolation just because a 14 year-old kid couldn’t fucking keep herself alive and—


And this wasn’t just the Anomaly, this was Frisk.


He forced himself to break away from her and she pulled him back in.


He so badly wanted her and yet he felt like her skin was fire. She kissed him. More aggressively this time. Her hands moved up his vertebra.

And what the fuckthat felt so good


He was able to stop returning her kisses for long enough to say “shit, kid—stop.

“do you want to get fucked?”


And he was about to warn her that she had to stop, that he was weak, when she made him feel an incredible panic by angrily telling him “So what if I do?”

She pushed him. She hit him. She pulled him back down to her again.

“Every time I remember having sex, it’s with you, and I never have a choice. Do you know how that feels?” She started crying then, she really was crying, and oh fuck—he was still turned on—what was wrong with him. “I feel dirty. Disgusting. I don’t want to feel this way. I hate it.” He tried to pull away. She pulled him back again, she kissed his chin—she—


Oh, god, she licked his vertebrahis cock was fully formed now


She was doing everything she could to turn him on and it was working.

“I don’t want that to be what the last time I had sex is like. I’d rather die, but I can’t do that.” She pushed him again. She tried to take off his coat. He made the big mistake of starting to kiss her neck because he had gotten so horny and she sobbed.


She sobbed into his coat.


He stopped.


She started begging him in between sobs to fuck her.




He felt sick.


This wasn’t right.


He had made a bigger mess than he could possibly fix.


There was just—no way—he could fix this. There could be no happy ending with Frisk.

And when that realization crashed down on him he really wished he could die with Frisk too.

“kiddo, i—i know you don’t want this,” he told her.


And he felt dead. He felt really dead. She had been everything that he could ever hope for and just like that the hope was gone.


He admitted “maybe we should stop being friends. i don’t think we ever were.”


She held on tightly to him by his coat. “If you leave me, then I’ll be alone.”


He wanted to force out a laugh but he couldn’t. “kiddo, i’m poison. you’re better off alone than with me. just look at all i’ve done to you.”


She clung to him. “You were so nice,” she told him. Her voice was small and it sounded like begging. “You were so nice, why can’t we just go back to that?”


“kiddo, we can’t—”

She yelled at him “Why do you all leave me??”—and then she cried—“Why can’t I be what you want? Sans, I’ve been goodI forgive you, I’ll be better, so pleasePLEASE, please, please—”

And she sounded—


So pathetic


That he felt like worse than dead.


And he couldn’t even go through with this.


He kissed her forehead. He wiped her tears away. And he told her, very gently—“do you want to try another RESET?”


She looked up at him and she looked so sad and yet it was even worse how his offer gave her hope.


“we can both pretend that we forgot this happened,” he told her. “start a new timeline. who knows, maybe you’ll even really forget.”


And her eyes went wide with hope at the offer but her voice was small when she shyly said “Dying hurts.”

He offered a compromise. “how about a pretend RESET, then?”


She looked at him with eyes so wide and curious and she looked just like she had when he had first explained to her what anime was, so many timelines ago.


She was still so young. She was still just a child.


He tucked some loose strands of her hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek and said “how about we both go to sleep. i know it’s still early but we can pretend to sleep.”

He kissed her nose. He kissed her forehead. “and then we wake up, and we can both pretend this never happened. we’re both completely clueless. we still think this could ever work.”


He pressed his forehead against hers. He didn’t quite dare kiss her lips. “would you like to try that? sweetheart?”


She hugged him close. She told him “I love you so much.”


Then she said “I do.”


He kissed her cheek.


She held his hand.


They went upstairs and they fell asleep or at least pretended, she snuggled so close next to him.


And then hopefully when it was time to wake up the world would be slightly better again. Maybe they could keep doing this for at least a while. But Sans would cheat. He couldn’t help it. He so wished that he could, but he was always able to hold on to memories after each RESET.


And he still knew, even if the kid didn’t, that this couldn’t ever work.

Chapter Text

He wasn't surprised that he managed to fall asleep, but when he woke up, he didn't feel any better.


He felt considerably worse.


Frisk was with him. She was snuggled up against him with her face against his chest. And he'd fallen asleep holding her, and this was—


This was supposed to be a great thing to wake up to. Holding her close usually made him feel so happy. She made him so happy.


But today it felt like he was being tormented with a glimpse of something that he couldn't have. He wasn’t meant for her. He was stealing these moments from her.


The kid stirred and she looked up at him. Her eyes were slightly puffy. She hadn't been sleeping, but he didn’t point that out.


He felt like sin. She looked at him with so much trust, even after all the disappointment. And Sans wanted—He had only wanted to be with her. And that had been wrong. That had been very wrong and very selfish of him. He didn't deserve someone as good as Frisk. He didn't—He shouldn't have taken someone as good as Frisk.


He deserved to be alone for all he’d done to Frisk.


And maybe that's why she fell down as young as she did? As a sort of warning that they were not meant to be?


He'd ignored it. He'd ignored the warning. And now, because of his selfishness, because of his stupid impatience, when the kid finally caught on to it, she would realize that they couldn't even be friends. That they had never been friends. And she would feel more than betrayed, she would hate him. Sans would go back to being alone.


And the kid would be forced to be completely alone too, caught in her own parallel hell full of RESETs. And he wouldn’t be there to help her, like he’d wanted. Wouldn’t be there because he’d been harmful and sick. Discarded. And maybe she’d even grow up to be as awful as him.


Just as awful as him, corrupted by him, she who was so pure, so good, so MERCYful.


He didn't deserve her.


And yet he couldn’t help but brush his fingers through her hair. He whispered the "i love you" that he knew he shouldn't say.


And maybe it would have been better if he'd just stayed asleep. Maybe it would have been better if he just died. He hadn't felt that way in a very long time, not since the third or the fourth time that he had met the Anomaly, but maybe


Maybe no one would miss him, this time, if he just stayed in bed for a very long time.


Maybe no one would miss him, this time, if he finally gave in and died.


The kid smiled at him, a smile both shy and sweet. She told him "I love you too" and he felt—he felt moderately happy. He was stupid enough to believe her.


Stupid enough to believe her because he so, so badly wanted it to be true.


He was weak and so he kissed the top of her forehead. The kid wiggled against him, moved her face closer to his.


She kissed him on the chin. Sans kissed her on the lips.


And he—he didn’t plan it—he wasn’t that twisted—


(Was he?)


But the kiss turned into more.


Suddenly his tongue was in her mouth. The kid was kissing back. There was a needy, desperate hunger between them and


He had a hand full of blue magic roaming under the kid's shirt.


The kid was trying to get his coat off.


He helped her take it off.


And then her hands under his shirt and he was made only of bone, she knew he was, would she really mind it if his shirt was off? She’d have virtually nothing to hold on to—He knew how much she liked holding on to the front of his coat—


For a brief moment, he felt inadequate. He wondered if someone as pretty as her could even begin to find him attractive.


And she didn’t seem to mind that he was just a hollow skeleton because she started lifting his shirt. He felt an irrational sort of relief, and what was he doing.


This was going too fast, entirely too fast.


She became more aggressive. So did he. He bit her neck and she gave out a sharp cry that turned into a moan and this wasn't love, this thing they were doing.


This was just casual, meaningless sex.


This was sex to Frisk. This is what he'd taught her that sex was: something desperate and wrong and shameful.


And the worst part was, he himself had never actually experienced the other kind—to teach her the best that sex could be.


A flash of blue and they were naked. He was going too fast and he couldn’t help it. He felt hopeless. He felt needy. He felt grief.


She'd told him that she hated the way he'd made her feel the other times he’d done this to her. Doing this again wasn't going to make the kid feel better. Doing this again would only make her feel worse.


But he was hopelesssad and lonely and why fight it. She was bound to hate him either way. Maybe he should just give up and give her what she thought she wanted. Maybe he should just takewhat little he could get from Frisk.


And someday, maybe, she might find someone who did love her the right way. Someday, maybe, he'd be just a nasty memory to Frisk.


Just a nasty, worthless memory of a time she got taken advantage of and hurt.


And maybe she’d look back and hate to think of him. Or maybe she would think that he wasn’t worth thinking of at all.


But she was—his best memory.


A nervous, involuntary flicker of blue. His cock almost disappeared. He had to fight to keep his magic under control, if he wanted to—If he really wanted—


He didn’t really want


He kissed her and he rubbed his magic into her and she was moving her hands along his bones too, along his ribcage and his vertebra and his pelvis. And it felt—his body felt good.


His soul felt so bad.


She wanted him for all the wrong reasons and he—


He was too weak to fight it. He decided to just give in.


And this was the only thing he could ever have from Frisk.


Just a meaningless fuck before she hated him.


She very gently hit him with a closed small fist and he could tell she was trying not to cry, did she hate him already?


And it was best to just go ahead and get this over with. It was best to just go ahead and do it. He positioned himself and tried hard not to care, tried hard not to think about it. But then she froze with fear and said, “Go slow!” And it—it sounded like a direction, like she wanted to be in control this time. But this wasn’t going to undo anything.


He’d still fucked her more than once against her will.


He’d still killed her more than once and had betrayed her.


And no amount of telling herself she was choosing this, no amount of illusion of control, was going to undo what he had done.


He’d still come. She probably wouldn’t. And she’d feel even more used, even more dirty, even more disgusting. She’d hate herself and she would hate him even more.


He obeyed. He slowly pushed himself inside her just like she told him. It felt good. It felt very good. He wasn’t going to lie, he was enjoying this.


He hated himself.


And the kid felt so tense and uncomfortable under him. This part meant pain, she’d learned it was, learned it from him


There was more than just a slight resistance but it was getting easier. He kissed her forehead. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know why he always insisted on kissing her forehead, like he could be sweet to her.


Like he could be worthy of her.


And that was a lie. It was a disgusting, filthy lie. He would never be good, would never be worthy, would never be sweet.


The kid started crying.


The room went blue. He froze on top of her. And she told him, in a miserable tone, “Keep going.


He wasn’t even halfway in. It hadn’t even completely begun. And she was already crying, and yet she insisted


Why had he even woken up to this?


He thought about just slamming it into her.


And this was not what he had wanted from her.


He mustered up his courage and his selfishness and said “kiddo—i love you—this is hell.

“can we please stop?”


But the kid looked so determined. So eager to get this over with. So disbelieving that he could really stop—it broke his heart—he felt so worthless


A loud knocking on the door startled them both before she answered him. Frisk gave a little shriek. Sans' trash tornado sprang back to life and proceeded to go into overdrive.

“HUMAN? IS THAT YOU?” It was Papyrus; he sounded concerned. “ARE YOU WITH SANS? I SAW HIS MAGIC.”

He had a horrifying moment of clarity during which Sans was intensely aware that both he and his fourteen-year old kid were naked.


He frantically started to put his pants on. The kid just sat frozen in place. And he wanted to snap some sense into her, to tell her shit, kid, hurry up and put some clothes on


But he wasn’t exactly in the state of mind to whisper it. And what if Papyrus overheard?


He put on his shirt. “HUMAN?”

flash of blue magic. “SANS?”

And suddenly the kid was hidden under a small mountain of laundry and bed covers. Sans frantically went to open the door. He found Papyrus about to knock again.


And he didn’t know how he did it, but his voice was steady and relaxed when he greeted him. “hey, pap.”



“i’m fine, pap,” Sans told him. “i quit the hot dog job today. or i got fired? i dunno.”




Sans forced a grin and a snort. “gee. thanks, pap. glad you’re taking it so well.”



A very frantic nervousness settled in his chest. “uh, yeah. i moved her here, she’s under the covers. found the kid sleeping on the couch.”

“OH…” Papyrus looked—not entirely unsuspicious of him. Or was that just Sans? It was probably just Sans. Papyrus was a good person, like Frisk. Not twisted, like him. Papyrus would never suspect


That Sans had just been in the middle of fucking his own kid.


The sudden realization that that was exactly what he’d been doing left a strong bitter taste in his mouth.


He felt like throwing up.


He distracted his brother before Pap caught on to his shame and disgust. “back from undyne’s, pap? did you get better at making that ravioli pasta? not that i think that would be possible…”



“whoa, no way. i’d love to try some of your even better ravioli. the kid, too, when she wakes up. we could make it into a little party?”

Papyrus looked ecstatic at that, the human temporarily forgotten. “THAT IS AN EXCELLENT IDEA! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL GO MAKE SOME RAVIOLI FOR US RIGHT NOW!!”


And then Pap ran excitedly downstairs as Sans weakly cheered him on with a “woooooowww pap you’re the best bro” and closed the door.


He locked it again.


And shit! That had been dangerously close.


The kid’s voice reached him from under the covers. She sounded just as shaken by Pap's sudden appearance as Sans felt. “…Sans? Did you really quit your hot dog stand?”


“yeah.” He went to her and collapsed on the floor, his back against the bed. “this morning, actually.”


Frisk managed to free her head from underneath the covers. She looked—her eyes were still red and puffy. She looked like she’d seen hell.


Sans felt an awful amount of guilt and shame.


She asked, “why did you quit? i thought you needed the job.”


“nah. we’re fine, don’t worry about it kid,” and he really wasn’t lying now. “it just got boring after a while. i wanted to spend more time with you.”


And she got quiet, very quiet, at that. And she looked at him in a way that made him feel self-conscious.


He finally gathered enough courage to ask "are you mad at me, frisk?"


Another pause. She scooted towards him. "No." She kissed his forehead. “I just—Sometimes you make me feel... like I matter a lot to you, you know? You make it hard to not like you.”


And he would definitely never tell her he could only quit because he’d signed up to collect one last soul today.


He knew the answer to his question but he still asked her: "do you wish you didn't like me, sometimes?"


A very short pause. A very flat tone. And Sans knew she had lied, when she said "No."


He sighed. He told her “i'm really sorry about our failed attempt at sex."


And the kid flushed a deep red because she was so innocent, was he making her uncomfortable by trying to talk about it?


"It's—It's fine—"


"no, it's not. listen. i didn't want—i want to explain why i asked you to stop. it isn't that i don't want you. i do. i always do. we just— you deserve so much better than this, kiddo. and i wish i could give it to you but i can't. you probably know that. and i know you're trying to act like you want this—"

She tried to fight him. “I do!”


"you don't. you really don't. frisk—you were crying. this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. i know that’s how—it’s been, but—"


"I think my choices are up to me," she told him. She sounded so stubborn.


So in complete-fucking-denial.


He was so frustrated. And the words just poured out. "for asgore's sake, kid. this is not a choice you’ve made. this is you deciding to force yourself to fuck me because you don't think i can hold back long enough before i start forcing you.


“and you know what, you're probably right. you're probably right. i'd love to make you fuck me. i'd make you love me if i could. does that make you feel better? to know that you're right? i really am—a bad monster—and you're a fucking angel, aren't you? fuck, kid. goddammit. if you at least fought back—if you only weren't—as good—”


He fought. He fought back his magic. He fought himself and he fought her because she was just quietly listening to him, her expression so forgiving and patient and unjudging, and he didn’t deserve—he couldn’t even understandthis bullshit.


He lashed out at her. "this isn't MERCY, kid. this isn't—this isn't kindness, this thing you're doing. every moment you spend with me, you're just dragging me further to hell. you’re just tempting me more, making it worse. and i hate—that i'm at your MERCY—”


She gently moved to hug him. He forced himself to back away. "don't. please just don't. i am so weak, kid. i still want to—i still want to fuck—” And how fucking sick was he?


“look. i'm sorry. i’m really sorry, kid. please? just—just forget i said anything. let’s forget we did this. i just want to go back—”

She very softly interrupted him and he hated the way her voice made him weak. “I want to move forward,” she told him, and she was very calm, now, her voice was very soothing


He wondered if she was this calm and soothing because he needed her to be.


“I know you can be good. I know you can be better. Sans, I want to help—I do love you. I’m—I’m sorry I got mad,” she said, and what on Earth was she apologizing for, she was—“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll be better, so please don’t—”


He let out a weak, bitter laugh. “you really hate yourself, don’t you, kid?”

And he didn’t have to look at her to know he’d zeroed in on what exactly it was that was so wrong with her. “you came here to die, but i won’t let you go to asgore. so it’s gotta be me that kills you, right? am i right? maybe not literally—


Their time was up. Papyrus was calling them to lunch from the kitchen.


Sans got up. He still felt sick. He noticed that his shirt was put on backwards.


A flash of anxiety. Had Papyrus noticed? He started fixing his shirt. The kid still wasn’t moving.

“i’d get dressed if i were you,” he told her. “once i go downstairs, i can’t guarantee that papyrus will knock. unless you’ve finally decided to tell on me.


“because you do know, right? how wrong this is? i shouldn’t have ever touched you. you know that, right?”


He moved to grab his coat but found that she was holding on to it.


And the kid didn’t look like she wanted to let go. He let out a defeated sigh. His voice softened.


“look, kid— if you don’t want to go downstairs… that’s fine. i’ll come back to you. is that what you want?”

She nodded. She very meekly nodded.


And this was mute Frisk. Shy Frisk. Lonely, desperate for love Frisk.


The kid he’d met.


She was too good a child, self-sacrificing Frisk. Willing to keep herself under Sans’ non-existent MERCY for as long as that meant he would love her.


And he did love her. He couldn’t help but love her.


There wasn’t anything not to love.


He didn’t know if he hated himself or the entire situation more, because even his love wasn’t real love at all was it? It was a poor imitation of love.


Desperate. Harmful. Weak.


So weak. He couldn’t help but give in to her.


“fine,” he told her. “hold my coat for me, will ya? i’ll come back for it. and please get dressed. let’s go out somewhere after this, ok? have you been to the temmie village?” He asked to be polite. Of course she hadn’t gone to the Temmie Village, save for that time she hadn’t been herself. And the kid shook her head, and her eyes were suddenly wide with a hope and excitement that were so foreign to him.


He couldn’t help the rush of affection for her that invaded his chest.

He gave her a weak smile. He brushed his fingers through her hair. “they have a nice little café. i’m sure you’d like it. let me take you there? it can be like a date.”


From the kitchen, they heard Papyrus’ voice. “SANS? HUMAN? THE RAVIOLI IS GOING TO GET COLD, HURRY UP OR I’LL EAT IT FOR YOU!”

A smile smile from Frisk. Her cheeks were a lovely pink. Sans rolled the lights of his eye sockets at his brother’s yelling and winked at Frisk. “welp, better go tell pap that you’re still asleep,” he told her. And then, because he wasn’t sure he’d made it clear—because he was paranoid, and he knew that she needed to hear it—he added “i do love you, kid.


“i really do.”


And often, perhaps way too often, even he was stupid enough to believe it.

Chapter Text

The silence between Sans and Papyrus was extremely noticeable and yet Sans couldn't find it in himself to care.


He was worried about Frisk.


He shouldn’t have asked Frisk out on that date.

He shouldn’t have asked her. That was sick and wrong of him. He was a grown man and she was almost his child and fourteen freaking years old and not only a human but the Anomaly, to boot. He should have never asked her out. And what was he doing? What had he been thinking? He should just end whatever this was he had with the kid and go back to dating—dating adults


The idea of casually dating or even just fucking anyone that wasn't Frisk was now repulsive to him, somehow.

And it had seemed like a good idea, at the time. It had seemed like a great idea, to offer to take the kid to the Temmie Village, suggest it could be a date. Reassure the kid that he loved her—because he did love her—and maybe she’d be less sad if he showed her he loved her. Maybe she’d feel less pathetic. Less lonely and hopeless.

Maybe she would even be less traumatized by all he’d done to her. Maybe she'd even feel less used, because—she had been used—


And he had loved it. He had loved every minute of it. He wanted to do it a g a i n.

But maybe just this once it could be just like a date? Just a nice little date with no sexno sex whatsoever, he wasn’t going to touch her again—

Well, he might give in and just kiss her again—

And it had seemed harmless, at the time, to suggest a date. Just absolutely harmless. But now here Sans was, absolutely nervous and obsessed and still horny as he forced himself to eat the completely inedible ravioli cooked by Papyrus. 

Papyrus, who was currently eating at the table with him and kept interrogating Sans about Frisk.


“she’s fine, pap,” Sans told him again. And he had said the words so many times during their meal that they were beginning to feel like a mantra.

He had lied and told Papyrus that he had used his blue magic as a flashlight in the dark. He had lied and told Papyrus that the kid had been completely asleep the entire time. He had lied and told Papyrus that—that he had gone to work with his shirt put on backwards, he hadn’t noticed it until recently, thanks for offering to point it out if it happened in the future Papyrus— 

He had lied and told Papyrus that he was fine. That the kid was fine. That they were both 

just fine, Papyrus!

And he really didn’t think that Papyrus suspected that Sans had been fucking the kid. He really didn’t think so at all. But sometimes Pap would ask an innocent question—


And all that Sans heard was: I know she was naked, you disgusting child fucker, how could you do this to Frisk?

And it was more than Sans could take.

To think that not only Frisk but also Papyrus could one day hate him for being the literal and figurative monster he was.

Frisk and Pap were the two beings he loved the most in the entire world. He couldn’t survive the RESETs without them. He needed them both, and to think he was harming them by being what he was—

He was poison to Frisk. He was one big lie to Papyrus.

He was weakdisgustingpatheticworthless.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this depressed—


Papyrus started to worry. "SANS? ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"


And Sans hadn't been aware that he had stopped smiling.


"yeah, pap."—he forced out a yawn—"just tired." And that wasn't a complete lie. He was tired.


Tired of the RESETs. Tired of being infected by so much LV. Tired of being like he was and of hurting Frisk and of being so hopelessly attached to the goddamn Anomaly.

And sometimes he could resent her so.


She was—she was far too good for him. And did she do that on purpose, to stay out of his reach?


Of course not. Of course she wasn't being so good, so innocent, on purpose. Sans had just met the kid too early.


Far, far too early and he was still hopelessly in love and hopelessly addicted and just hopelessly obsessed, and infatuated, and attracted to—the kid.


He was hopeless when it came to the kid.


And it wasn't just because she was the Anomaly although that had certainly been what first caught his attention. No, it wasn’t just that. Frisk was kind. She was good. She was very good and very pretty. And she was—she was just a kid—but for a kid she was pretty clever, and funny, and pleasant, and just so


She was, in their best moments, so warm, so comforting. She was, when he wasn’t drowning in guilt, like coming home after a very long day.


She made him feel like—like he was accepted—


Like he was poison, but he could still be a good person—


If he just tried.


He so often didn't bother try.


"—YOU'RE BOTH SICK," Papyrus told him, and it was like a cold knife pierced his chest.


"w-what?" Sans stuttered, but when his eye sockets focused on Papyrus there was no judgment in his brother's face, just concern.




Relief and guilt and shame.


"no, we both just had a late night. we stayed up late watching nectarine girl."


Papyrus gasped in rage and horror. "YOU DID WHAT!?!?"


"oops," Sans said with a grin.




And Sans was about to apologize when a marvelously soft voice beat him to it—


"Sorry, Papyrus," the kid said shyly as she entered the kitchen. Her eyes were still slightly red, but still she looked at Sans and sweetly smiled at him


A very small, incredible smile. It made something flutter in Sans' chest and his entire body feel weak.


And he was hers to do whatever she wanted with him.


"I just couldn't resist watching a couple more episodes. I talked Sans into it," she told Papyrus. "But I really want to watch them again with you tonight, okay?"


Papyrus looked like he was trying hard to remain be mad at the kid, but in the end he gave up. It was impossible to stay mad at Frisk, Sans understood the feeling perfectly. And so in the end Papyrus said,  "...NYEH. I GUESS THERE'S NO HARM DONE, HUMAN."


And Frisk beamed wide at that and gave Pap a hug before sitting down between Sans and his brother.


Sans immediately had an evil idea and said, "hey, kiddo. you're kind of late to the party, but you can have some of my pasta."


And Frisk narrowed her eyes at him. Sans grinned with a fake innocence. He may love her, but if it meant less pasta for Sans to force down his own throat, he was still fully willing to throw the kid under the bus. Figuratively.


And she knew this, how selfishly sneaky he could be, and yet she loved him.


She was his best friend, his best memory.


"Thanks, Sans, but I'm okay. I'm not really hungry," she told him, and she could play his games too. “You can eat all your pasta, but that was very nice of you.”


Papyrus looked at the kid with concern. "YOU'RE NOT HUNGRY, HUMAN? BUT I MADE RAVIOLI. I THOUGHT YOU LIKED RAVIOLI."


"I do," Frisk told Pap with a smile, and Sans loved her, he really loved her—"But I'm really not hungry. I just ate some of your leftovers a while ago."




"Yeah, I'm okay," she told him. "I just needed a nap."


"i could do with one of those myself," Sans interjected.




That caught Frisk and Sans' attention. They both said in unison, "...dessert?"


And then Papyrus looked extra proud. He stood up and said "YES!!! UNDYNE AND I HAVE BEEN EXPERIMENTING"—uh oh—"WE'VE BOTH DECIDED, SINCE WE HAVE ALREADY MASTERED THE ART OF MAKING PASTA, WHY NOT INVENT A FEW PASTA DISHES OF OUR OWN?" Sans noticed how Frisk's face paled with horror.


And then Papyrus moved to the fridge, and he opened it. "SO WE HAVE INVENTED”—he took out some sort of wriggly, almost translucent green substance stuffed with spaghetti and odd chunks of something—"SPAGHETTI JELL-O!!!" Papyrus beamed proudly. "THIS ONE IS SNAIL-FLAVORED, ESPECIALLY FOR FRISK! I KNOW HOW SHE LOVES SNAIL CAKE!"


The kid turned positively green at that and looked like she was about to throw up. Sans didn’t want Pap’s feelings to get hurt, so he did it instinctively; he grabbed her hand and stopped time


And then suddenly Frisk got up and ran to the bathroom. She hadn't even noticed that time had stopped. And she was


She was completely alone with him now, at his mercy


He was still pretty horny. He kind of wanted to fuck—


And there was the sudden and sick and yet exciting realization that if he decided to fuck her right now there would be nothing she could do about it, she would probably not even see it coming, and there was really nobody around right now that could make him stop

It was just him and Frisk, now.


She excited the bathroom a few moments later and muttered "Sorry I ran, I thought that I had to—"


And Sans had somehow gotten up.


Frisk finally seemed to notice the eerie silence around them. She froze once she saw Pap's own frozen expression.


And he was suddenly in front of her and she had gone so pale with eyes wide with an unspoken fear and she knew


She knew perfectly well what he could now make her do. Did she know that he was tempted?


He forced himself—to very gently—put his hands around her shoulders.


He could do this at any time. He could fuck her at any time he wanted. She wasn't safe, she wasn't ever really safe from him, he was too powerful and too obsessed and now they both knew—


He—he kissed her forehead—he very lightly kissed her forehead—and he hoped that the small kiss—was somehow reassuring to her—


But instead her eyes were wide with fear and he could hear her heart beating furiously in her chest, even though she remained completely still.

Completely docile.


And he was feelingsotempted


And then he asked her, in a voice that was forcibly and deceptively composed, "are you alright?"


She—the kid nodded. She was so good, she nodded, and that was a lie, she was lying for him.


He moved to kiss her.


He stopped himself as soon as his mouth touched her pink lips.


And he had so much power over her it was intoxicating. He could have her literally any time he wanted. And that was—that was too much


That was too much temptation to resist. Frisk was right to force herself to give in to him. He didn't know what he'd do


If he had to physically make her submit


He had full access to a kid who would never truly die and by the looks of it would never leave him and he could be cruel, he could be more than cruel, if he so wanted


And he had to remind himself that he was trying to be good and that he was trying to do things right this time around with Frisk. He had to remind himself that she was his endgame, she was what he most wanted


She was a person—with feelings and memories and—


And he heard himself telling her "we need to sit back down or papyrus will notice something is off."


And that was met with an unspoken relief. Frisk was awfully pale.


Her heart was still racing. It was beating so loud amidst the silence.


And she was afraid of him, she really was, but he was afraid of himself, too—


They sat down and he once again held her hand. She flinched just a little bit.


And then time kept moving forward and Papyrus kept showing off his new pasta dessert. Frisk didn't eat it.


Sans took one for the team and did.




Visiting the Temmie Village with Frisk turned out to not be the big deal Sans had been afraid it would be. It felt just like any other outing, albeit someplace new, and it wasn’t entirely unlike the time he’d taken Frisk to Hotland although this time Frisk was squealing at the cuteness of the village just as much as she was squealing due to her own excitement.


Sans once again made a mental note that he needed to take the kid outside of Snowdin more often.


They met Papyrus there, at Frisk's insistence. She had been so afraid of leaving Pap alone, kept worrying that something might happen to Pap if he stayed home alone "with Flowey". And so in the end, Papyrus had gone to the Temmie Village after Sans suggested that they all race there—


And Sans and Frisk would follow later. He would have them take a shortcut—he didn't take shortcuts with Pap—he had always avoided doing the more impressive magic around him—


Pap was pretty happy with his perceived position as the stronger, more responsible brother.


And so Sans and Frisk would follow later and that had left Sans and Frisk with a few hours alone at the house. And they


They had made out.


Sans had started it.


But then at his insistent kisses Frisk had gone along with it soon enough. She'd even gotten into it. Really into it. She'd kissed him and she'd let his tongue explore her mouth and she'd even moved her hands to stroke his bones and she hadn't seemed to mind it, when Sans firmly pressed his erection against her. She hadn't seemed to mind it, when Sans did it again and started dry humping her.


She hadn't seemed to mind it when Sans got into it. She hadn’t seemed to mind it when he ended up aggressively pinning her to the couch and bit her neck.


She hadn’t seemed to mind it, when he came with a grunt pressed firmly against her. She’d still accepted all his kisses, before, during and after. She’d still let him lick the mark he’d left on her neck. She’d still let him touch her.


And this was their relationship.


Just a lot of things Sans did to Frisk and Frisk pretended not to mind.


But at the Temmie Village, things were different. At the Temmie Village, they were having a nice outing with Papyrus. And maybe it was the fact that they had Papyrus between them or maybe it was that Sans had taken a load off—hah


Maybe it was that Frisk seemed absolutely ecstatic to be there. Maybe it was the way she so cutely laughed when the first Temmie said "hoi!! i'M temmie!!!", how she laughed even harder by the time she met Bob—

They’d, uh—Sans had made sure they’d all steered clear of the depressed dancing mushroom—


And Sans was able to think much more clearly and focus on the kid and on all the different ways that he loved her.


And when he was sure no one was looking, he would kiss her on the cheek and she would blush.


Kissing her like that felt so sweet. It felt like more than just a date.


And every so often, Papyrus would say "HU—I MEAN, FELLOW MONSTER, ARE YOU HAVING FUN?"


And Frisk would absolutely beam as a Temmie fussed over her and she'd say "Yes!"


They went together into the café once Frisk had met everybody. All the Temmies had fussed over Frisk's cuteness, and Sans had definitely agreed.


Frisk was very cute.


Frisk was absolutely beautiful.


They each made a different order of temmie flakes: regular, on sale and expensiv. Frisk laughed so hard when their orders came, and she saw how each of the temmie flakes were exactly the same.


Sans still went out of his way to make sure that Frisk got the expensiv temmie flakes.


And they—the three of them—they had a lot of fun. They—the three of them—they really enjoyed each other’s company. And maybe Sans was sick, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love Frisk—


He really, truly did love Frisk


And she was just so happy amongst the temmies and she was just so cute as she explored, as she learned about the very importants temm history, as she let Bob squeal over her and pet her and let Temmie absolutely fawn over her and tell her how cute she was—


She got sneezed on more than once, by the more allergic of the temmies, but Frisk didn’t seem to mind.


And then suddenly Sans found himself alone with Papyrus and they were just watching Frisk had fun. Sans couldn’t help the rush of affection he felt for the kid and he told Papyrus, “she really is great, isn’t she?”

“ALMOST AS GREAT AS ME,” Pap said in agreement. Sans suppressed a snort. And of course, Pap was great too…



And Sans didn’t tell him how, if they had been found out, he had been fully ready to RESET the timeline.


And instead he said, “nah, pap. you know how undyne can’t stand temmies. she’d never talk to one.”

And that was that.

They let Frisk have her fun.

And Sans would never, ever tell her how absolutely ready he had been to kill her if she’d been found out.


He hoped she would have forgiven him.

Chapter Text

He had her pinned on his bed underneath him and he was kissing her


Harsh and rough and desperate


And this was the easiest way he could let her know how he felt about her. It was the easiest and the most pleasurable way—his favorite way to show her what she did to him. Making out with the kid was a pretty damn enjoyable way to show his love for her and at the same time vent out his frustration


His sick want


His selfishness


His desperation and guilt


And they had done this a few times, now. She was getting so much better at it. His tongue was once again exploring her mouth and she was reciprocating, this time, finally. It felt amazing—He would never get tired of this


He almost lost it right then and there when she started sucking on his tongue like he had taught her to.


And then suddenly he was getting rougher. He felt needy and full of lust. He held her down with a hand against her throat. He—he grinded a few times against her—


It felt so fucking good to know that he could kill her right now if he wanted to—


And they had done this a few times, too. Just a very few times but she knew exactly how to behave now—completely limp and defeated and passive. The one time she'd tried to fight him, he'd almost lost it, had almost killed her.


Had almost fucked her.


And then she hadn’t done that again. She’d given up. Just let him do what he wanted to her.


And he knew she didn't like it when he played with her like this. It was far too similar to the many, many times he had killed her. But it made him feel so superior to the Anomaly to know that at any given moment he could very easily end her life, cause another RESET to happen by his hand, not hers. To know that she—her life was in his hands—and he had killed her so many times before and he loved her, but fuck


Toying with her life like this was the next best thing to fucking her.


She was his and he could do whatever he wanted with her.


And so he grinded his cock against her and squeezed. He wrapped his fingers tightly around her neck.


The kid’s hands shot up to grab his wrist. It was a very meek gesture. She was pleading for air, begging for mercy. And that was the closest she got anymore to fighting him, but she still remained so limp as he pressed his hand against her throat


She was absolutely submissive—he was totally in control


Or, well, almost.


Because he still badly wanted to fuck her and couldn’t. He so, so badly wanted to fuck her and couldn’t bring himself to dare.


He kissed her again and she kissed him back.


He hissed against her mouth. "fuck—i love you."


And he rewarded her kiss by loosening his grip just enough to allow a breath of fresh air. He thrust himself one more time against her clothed entrance.


And it occurred to him that this was love to Frisk. Her first relationship that wasn’t even truly a real relationship.


He drowned his guilt with another hard squeeze on her throat and a love bite on her shoulder and another harsh thrust against the kid.


It felt good. It felt really good.


And he really just wanted to fuck her—this couldn't be worse than fucking her


Another breath of fresh air for the kid. Another hard thrust against her. And then another… and another…


She let out a soft little moan that was both pain and hopefully pleasure and he nearly lost it.


He very nearly lost it.


And "fuck, kid—"


He shoved his tongue down the Anomaly's throat again.


She felt so good, so completely incredible.


He toyed with her like this and brought her to the edge of death and back again until he came grinding against her and collapsed on top of her with a wave of guilt.


He always felt a wave of guilt. He hid his face against her neck. "sorry," he groaned, and he really was sorry, but then he'd get horny and do it again.


And this was all he could do to not stick his dick inside her.


And maybe Frisk had a point. Maybe Sans should just let the kid give in and let him fuck her. But there was something inherently scary about fucking the kid now


Now that there were no more RESETs, no more safety nets


And Sans didn't want to quite literally fuck things up with the kid, hah. He didn’t want to so, so badly ruin things with her that it would immediately end whatever it is they had between them.


Whatever it is they had, because she was far too young to be his girlfriend—she was far, far too young and they'd never really talked about it—


But she was so much more than just a fling, wasn't she?


They were—it was too bizarre to think of them as lovers. He was hers and she was his, and that was that.


No need to complicate things with names or labels. They were as good as bound together. And they did love each other—


The kid finally found the will to move again and she tentatively gave him what felt like a half-hearted kiss on the cheek and held him to her in a way that was so soothing, so comforting to him that he very nearly forgot his guilt. He pressed his face further against her neck. He could fall asleep this way but he—


"i'm really sorry, kiddo," he told her. "are you alright?"


A pause, and then a shaky "I'm ok." And Sans didn't ask her if she was telling the truth, he didn't beg her to elaborate...


He was a selfish coward and he'd probably pull all of this shit again tomorrow or in a few days, he never lasted longer than a few days and Frisk knew it, so why was he even apologizing.


And maybe she didn’t like it but she still let him. She let him and that meant—That meant—


That she was desperate enough for his affection that she’d even take it like that, probably.


And then she always looked so completely miserable afterwards, for a while.


And he so often wished that didn’t happen. He often wished that there was something he could do to make her happy, truly happy, the way she so often made him happy when he wasn’t drowning in lust and in guilt. Sometimes, he even thought he’d succeeded. They had gone hiking this morning at her insistence, and Sans was usually so lazy, he hated to go on hikes, but for her he did and—


And he thought for sure she had enjoyed herself, just hiking along the Snowdin forest with him. They’d shared some laughs, they’d had a picnic— She’d even cornered him against a tree and sweetly kissed him.


But then he started too aggressively kissing her back and she froze. Things became awkward.


And there wasn’t really anything he could possibly do to fix that.


Theirs was a mess of a relationship, of two messed up people, and he—


He really shouldn’t be doing this to Frisk.


He really shouldn’t, and yet he did, kept doing the same shit over and over to Frisk.


He was about to bitterly point this out when she sweetly kissed him on the mouth.


Just a peck from her lips. It erased all of his concerns and his doubts.


It amplified his guilt.


He kissed her back just as gently and it was far easier to control himself after he’d come. Maybe that was why Frisk always let him. Maybe she thought that was the price to pay for the gentler affection from him that came afterwards.

And maybe when it came to him, she was right. But he so often worried that someone else might come after him and take advantage of Frisk the same way that he was. He would have to—


He wasn’t modelling a healthy relationship


And what was wrong with him that he would worry about that?


In the end, they just held each other and they cuddled. Frisk fell asleep against his chest and eventually, Sans fell asleep too. And this was the part that felt like they were just two normal people who deeply loved each other.


This was the part that he really wanted, when his mind wasn’t cloudy with need.




Sometimes, it just hit him extra hard how entirely wrong and sick his and the kid’s entire situation was. He’d wallow in self-hate and in guilt.


And it was in those times, ironically, that he most needed the kid. He would seek her out and hide his face against her neck and let the kid comfort him in that special way she knew how to do. Her words were so soothing. Her voice was so soft. And she always made him feel—


So loved. So cared about. So understood.


And sometimes he just felt like crying against her and confessing all his sins. Sometimes he even did. He once told her about—


The youngest soul—"she was so small, kid. tinier than you were when you fell down. i killed her so many times. i even enjoyed it."


He told her about—the bravest one—"he just kept trying to take a swing at me. i—i dragged his deaths out a little bit. i thought it was so funny, hah. i still do."


He—He didn't tell her about the one who'd always begged for mercy—


(The one he'd toyed with the most.)


But he did tell her about his first. That one had been one very long and uncomfortable conversation. He told her about his reasoning behind offering to gather the souls, about his initial temptation and eagerness and nervousness. He told her about how very much he had regretted killing the human when the girl quickly died the first time and he told Frisk, perhaps in too much detail, exactly how brutally he’d offed the girl by the time the last of her many timelines came around. How funny he’d found it when the girl had fallen almost lifeless to the ground and still refused to die as if she hadn’t died a hundred times before. How much—


How much killing Frisk had reminded him of killing that other girl, sometimes. The sounds that humans made when close to death could be so similar


So—so fucking hilarious


And Frisk had gone completely still and silent and she was probably horrified at that, but Sans had just kept talking. He couldn’t stop himself from telling her about his sins, the things he’d done. And in the end—


In the end, when he started feeling bad from his confessions, Frisk had compassionately hugged him.


In the end, he had once again kissed her.


And she’d let him kiss her. Let him hold her down by the throat—


Let him—get off—on top of her—


He was such a fucking sadist and Frisk knew.


And Sans wasn’t entirely sure if he should care about the fact that she knew about so many of his sins or not. And maybe he shouldn’t even care that she had probably been just too terrified to make him stop. And maybe her fear had been a good thing, because in that one occasion he didn’t think he could have stopped—


Maybe he wouldn’t have, and maybe he was the worst, maybe he was completely beyond redemption, but—


But at least he had Frisk, who still loved him, somehow.


And those days were the best and worst because it was in those days that Frisk proved just how much she could intensely love him and Sans proved just how deplorably and inexcusably he could still fail her.




Time moved forward for a while without RESETs and today had been slowly turning into one of those days. Those days when he felt sick and guilty and sought comfort from Frisk. He’d spoken to Toriel earlier today. He always had one of those days on the days he spoke to Toriel. The goat monster was just so confident that Sans could be a—


Ugh—a great dad


To the kid that she didn’t know that Sans was almost fucking


And so he came home early again from his imaginary shift at the sentry station. No new human spotted yet. Sans found the kid lying on the couch with a rather bored expression and he let himself collapse on top of her. He once again buried his face against her neck.


Her scent alone was so soothing. She smelled like vanilla and a field of golden flowers.


Frisk turned off the tv. She knew what this one action from him meant. She began to gently stroke his bones in a way that was so calming to him, he felt so relaxed when he was with her like this—


He whispered a feverish and reverenti love you so much.”


And she told him, very softly, "I love you too, Sans. Did you have a bad day?"


He was very honest with her, more than he should probably be with the kid. "your mom thinks i should read a few books on parenting kids with depression."


She tensed up underneath him at that, and when she spoke, she sounded defensive. "I haven't told mom about—"


Sans cut her off. "you didn't have to tell her anything, frisk. she’s your mother.” And he pressed a small kiss on the side of her neck. He didn’t even know why he did it. He was still so—


He had been left so uncomfortable from his talk with Toriel.


And—God—the way that he and that lady sometimes spoke— How could he so easily brag about all of Frisk’s little achievements and still—


Still just—fuck—


Talking about Frisk with Toriel always messed with his head. He shouldn’t feel so much pride and love and paternal concern over this kid he was almost fucking.


He kissed her again and maybe he was just reminding himself that he loved her in different ways. “your mom noticed the way you talk to her, or rather barely talk,” he told her. “she thinks you're depressed. she—shitsorry about the language, kiddo, but she knows you're depressed. heck, even i know you’re depressed, kid, but i’m so fucking useless when it comes to helping you—"


There was an uncomfortable silence and then Sans let out a bitter laugh. "you know what the sick thing about all of this is? it’s that i'll still probably read the damn books, like i’m your goddamn parent, even though i still want to fuck you, do you know that? sorry. sorry. i don’t mean to curse—but kid, how sick and wrong is that? how sick and wrong am i that i—


“i just want to help you but i—


“i justshit. i don’t even know what to do about you, kiddo.”


She remained very quiet. Mute Frisk. Shit. And Sans knew well to give her all the time she needed until she found the words to talk—


He waited.


He could be very patient, waiting for Frisk to speak, because the wait was usually so worth it.


And then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, Frisk finally told him, in that voice that was so soft and quiet, “I don’t, um, think I’m depressed.


And then “I’ve always felt sort of like this.”

And finally “I’ll be happier around mom. You shouldn’t worry about me.”


He pressed a kiss against her neck and told her “i can’t not worry about you. you do know that, right? i worry about you constantly, frisk. you’re just so


“you matter a lot to me. i know i’m often selfish, and i don’t show you like i should. but kiddo, it’s just you and me. if you need me—


“just tell me. i’ll do anything.”


And she told him, “To tell you the truth, I’m mostly just really worried that Papyrus is still talking to Flowey. I don’t think there’s anything we can do about that, except for me to keep moving forward.”


Sans got off of the kid. His eye flickered with an angry blue. “i keep telling you you need to let me kill that flower.”


And Frisk just shook her head, because of course she did, she was so full of MERCY. “You shouldn’t kill anyone. And Flowey can still be good. He’s just lonely, Sans—like us—”


he wants to kill papyrus. he’s killed you. he—”


“Just let me deal with Flowey. Please? Sans, I have to do this—this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you—”


He took both of his hands to his eye sockets and let out a deep groan of frustration. “you’re going to kill me being this good, kid. you know, some of us really don’t deserve second and third chances—myself fucking included, kiddo. how can you just be so forgiving—”


“You know, Flowey warns me about you, too,” she told him. She was frowning slightly at him now, and he felt like he was being scolded. “How would you feel if I listened to him? And besides, this is my life—I can risk it for whomever I want—”


“but you don’t risk it, though,” he told her, and he was getting pretty angry at her now. This was a sore subject between them that just somehow wouldn’t die. “you’re not losing your life when you die, the world just RESETs each time. what you are risking is what little is left of my sanity, because kid, i’m the one who has to remember everything with each RESET. and i’ve told you—i’ve told you how much it fucking hurts, how anxious it makes me when i know another RESET might be coming. so can’t you just be selfish just once for me and let me kill that weed so that you don’t have to go anywhere—”


“I’ve told you that I can’t. And even if I could—Sans, you really shouldn’t get any more LV. It’s hurting you more than the RESETs. And this would all be over if you just let me give Asgore my soul like I keep telling you I have to do—”


“there is no way in hell i’m losing you,” he told her angrily.


She snapped. She yelled at him. “There is a big world out there!” she yelled, and she was so angry that her cheeks were red and she was almost crying. “There’s the sun and fresh air and a sky so blue you’d love it! I know you’d love it, you’d be so happy up there. But I hated it. I’m miserable. All I’ve got is you and Papyrus and a voice inside my head and a murderous flower and phone calls from a mom who doesn’t ever think I’m worth a visit, how do you think I feel?


“And Papyrus doesn’t even spend half as much time with me as he does with Undyne and you—you’re such a bad monster”—he flinched—“all you ever want to do is touch me. And I love you, I really love you, but all you ever want to do is touch me and that feels—it feels so bad—like you’d only love me if I let you—and I do let you because I love you but I still—I still really wish you didn’t—and now mom’s saying I’m depressed? I’ve been depressed since before I came here! And what I really want is to just—


“Just end it already—


“I am so sick and tired of the voice and of worrying about Papyrus and of being scared of you because you won’t even let me decide when you’re going to hurt me again! And I—I can’t stand it—Mom keeps asking me what happened to Monsterkid—and she keeps trying to talk to me about how wonderful being in love is when I know better—I—I  know way better—I hate that I love you and you hate it too, right? So you take it out on me? Because I’m weak and you’re not? You’re just a—a terrible monster—you’re worse than Flowey—”


And then she hit him in the chest and he was stunned. He hadn’t expected Frisk—to out of the blue lash out at him like that.


She very weakly hit him again and what was happening. They had been completely okay just a few minutes ago.


And she ended up just sobbing against his chest and he was scum.


He was worse than scum and still he hugged her. He was worse than scum and still he kissed the top of her head.


And maybe he was just making it worse—Hadn’t she just said he always touched her?


And he just kept whispering, maybe more than slightly bewildered, “sorry, sorry, sorry…


She held on to him so tightly. He didn’t try to back away. And he couldn’t even completely understand just what it was that was now broken between them.


He just let her cry, but it felt wrong, somehow.


And they had been just fine just a few minutes ago.


And he suddenly just felt so, so depressed.

Chapter Text

Sans thanked his lucky stars that he at least had physics because he didn't know what he'd do if he couldn't even attempt to forget his own issues by solving random physics problems from his workbook. It had been a while since he’d solved so many problems with the help of linear algebra and multivariable vector calculus, and the fact that this particular set of problems had a bit of physical chemistry thrown in—


Well, that was a plus. It had been a while since he’d dabbled in chemistry.


He was on his seventh page of solving a particularly interesting problem concerning Hydrogen atoms when the knocking once again forced him to pause. Solving science problems always required Sans’ full attention, forcing his mind away from the Anomaly and the RESETs. And it was a welcome change, when his mind momentarily wandered away from the kid and the constant resetting of timelines…


It was especially welcome now after their fight. Sans was—he was still bewildered. Frisk had always been such a quiet kid. For her to lash out at him like that—

He'd fucked up. He'd definitely, quite literally, fucked up.


He tried to focus on the math aspect of the problem he’d been working on but his thoughts regarding Frisk and the near-incessant pounding of the door wouldn’t let him be.


Earlier, he’d stayed with the kid while she cried against him, alternating between pushing him away from her and pulling herself closer to him. And he probably shouldn’t have stayed with her like that. His presence had probably made things worse for Frisk. But he couldn’t exactly have left her—


He loved her, he really loved her, he loved her too much to just leave her be even if the sick way he loved her was precisely the problem—


He had stroked her hair and whispered soothing words in a pathetic attempt to comfort her and had waited until she’d calmed down significantly and had stopped sobbing against his chest. Then he had kissed the top of her head, wiped her tears away and then left.


And the worst part perhaps was that when he vanished he felt her trying to follow him.


He’d been holed up in his workshop ever since. Frisk had never once left the house. And he’d assumed, sometime after midnight, that the kid had just fallen asleep on their couch. But then he’d felt her—


He’d felt her move out of the house and then towards him and between that and his thoughts of her and the persistent loud knocking it was starting to look like page seventeen of his workbook was as far as he would go during his little science break today.


The kid once again resumed her knocking. And how had she even known that he was here? His workshop was outside of the house. He hadn’t told her he was coming here. Could she now somehow sense where he was, like he could sense her


Had whatever sick connection it was that so firmly anchored him to her began to affect the kid, too? Or had she just grown to know him so well that she could predict where he would go to at any given moment?


Knock, knock, knock! The kid was persistent. "Sans, let me in!"


For the hundredth time today, he felt defeated. And he was also getting pretty irritated, despite his guilt and his longing and his persistent fear of further fucking things up with the kid. Didn't Frisk know she had to stay away from him? He wasn't strong enough by himself to resist her. And—


And another set of consecutive knocks. Louder. More persistent. "Sans!!"


And it was pretty late into the night, and it was cold out... She’d catch a cold out there…


Knock, knock, knock, knockKNOCK!!!


"Sans, please! Please please please PLEASE just let me in—"


She’d catch a cold, and she was lonely, and she had just broken down crying in his arms not twelve hours ago. What kind of soulless monster would turn his back on her? She was—he wasn’t strong enough, he shouldn’t be near the kid, but she was


She was so much more than he could ever find the strength to turn his back on.


And it wasn't fair, what she was doing to him. It wasn’t fair, how she’d insisted on holding on to him even as he tried to tear himself away from her and save them both. She was his everything, and so of course, he couldn’t resist her—

She’d grow to eventually hate him for the things he’d done and continued to do to her because he simply couldn’t resist her


And it wasn’t fair, that he couldn’t avoid the temptation by just avoiding her altogether. It wasn’t fair, that he couldn’t even choose to stay away from her, because she’d follow him like this. It wasn’t fair, that he was always at her Mercy—


He was weak and she was vulnerable and it was cruel, how she so firmly attached herself to him. He wasn’t ever going to be a better person when Frisk just continued to just willingly and unconditionally make herself available. And the fact that he let him hurt her—


Sometimes he felt like Frisk would hold his hand against her chest and would patiently wait for him to summon the piercing bones that would kill her if only that meant he’d stay with her and love her. And the worst part was that he would.


And sometimes, she was right—he hated that he loved her, even if the hate was drowned out by the desperate love he felt for her.


He gave up the moment the kid started quietly sobbing against the door. It was no real surprise that he gave up. He’d known the moment the kid started knocking that he would eventually give up and let her go to him. And so he angrily resigned himself and he took off his reading glasses—


He was so angry at himself, at the world and at Frisk—


So fucking angry and defeated and done


And so he went to the door and slammed it open and just—


And just there was Frisk, looking up anxiously at him with a face full of lonely desperation and worry.


He didn't know how he found it in himself to not kiss her.


And then she lunged at him and hugged him, and he saw with a bitter clarity how their fucked up cycle of desperate neediness and lonely misery was starting again


She apologized, and why she was apologizing to him of all people he didn’t ever fucking know. She had been right—he was a bad monster—but still she clung to him and told him, "I am so, so sorry, Sans. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. Please don't be mad, please don't be mad at me..."


And the kid had no idea how completely fucked up all of this was. She probably just thought this was what love was, just a never-ending cycle of pain inflicted upon her followed by her desperate forgiveness. But Sans knew better, he'd never been in love before he met Frisk but he was old enough that he knew better, and he was hopeless, he felt defeated; this wasn’t love. This wasn't going to end until they both truly hated each other and he—


He wrapped his arms around the kid.


("I won't get angry again. I swear. I love you. I don't mind anything, Sans, so please...")


He pressed a kiss on the top of her head and this was wrong. She wasn't well and he was taking advantage of it.


("Please don't leave me. I'll be good. I can't stand it when we're apart, so please... I love you. I really really love you, Sans, so please...")


And shit.


He was so fucking weak.


He hated that he gave in to her and hated that he wasn't sure what was worse: to distance himself from the kid or keep her close to him. He didn’t know what was worse because if he left her, she became desperate at a time when she was already depressed and also borderline suicidal...


"kiddo, it's fine. i'm not mad at you," he told her. And he swore on the king’s crown that he was going to read each and every one of those damn books Toriel had recommended to him, his own twisted feelings for the kid be damned. Because this wasn’t right, what she was willing to do to herself… It wasn’t right, the way she persistently clung to him…


(...and then on the other hand...)


And then this time, it was she who stood on her toes and kissed him. Her hands were slightly shaking as she held on to the front of his coat. And he knew that she was doing this just to please him, but he was too weak to resist kissing back.


It felt so good to have her lips against his mouth—


(...and on the other hand, when he was near the kid he was absolutely incapable of resisting her.)


And maybe she had grown to even like it, when he kissed her, despite the way it made her feel when he touched her like this. Heavens knew how much he liked it, his magic buzzing against her lips, his hands moving down the kid's waist and hips, his magic exploring the soft texture of her warm skin… He could never get enough of her despite the bitter aftertaste of sickness and of guilt that were left behind whenever he took advantage of the kid like this. And he wasn't a—he wasn't a terrible kisser, he’d been told that his magic felt good. She probably did like his advances, even if just a little bit


He was kissing her back and he was too weak not to conjure up his tongue and push it into her. And god, this time she automatically opened her mouth for it, this time she lost no time in moving her own pink tongue against his and tasting him...


And in the back of his mind he knew what she was doing, even if he couldn’t help but fully give in to the temporary bliss.


He knew exactly what she was doing because the kid knew that if she got him off, if she let him come by using her however he wanted, afterwards he'd shower her with a reverent sort of affection out of remorse and of guilt. And isn't that what she had learned from him? That she had to earn his less aggressive affection like this?


He made a half-hearted attempt to pull away but then she sucked on his tongue and he lost it. He slammed the kid against the wall and shoved his tongue further into her mouth and he grinded the fully formed cock under his shorts against her and he—


She felt so unbelievably good, even if she temporarily froze and stopped kissing him. But then he yanked her head back by her hair and forced himself further into her mouth and down her throat and she—she got the message—she started kissing him back again after just one little whimper—and fuck


Fuck, he could really do anything to her—the sheer amount of power he had over her felt so fucking good


And he could think of something bigger of his that definitely needed sucking. Could he get her to do that for him?


He probably could.


He pinned her wrists against the wall and managed somehow to tear himself away from her.


And he was—he was terribly excited. His breathing had grown shallow and erratic and so had hers, so had hers with that pink flush of her cheeks, her slightly swollen red lips, the brightness of her eyes as she looked at him—


And the kid was still trembling slightly and her breaths were coming in a bit too fast for her to be feeling truly comfortable with him.


And so he tried his best to listen to that quiet message. He ignored how inviting she still looked, how desperate and willing, despite her fear and whatever else it was that she felt. He ignored the stiffness that had formed under his shorts, how desperately he just wanted to—


To throw her against the floor with his magic


To rip her clothes off, force himself inside of her


And this needed to stop and he didn’t know if he could be the one to do it. This needed to stop because she was desperate and needy and he was desperate and needy, too. He couldn’t be trusted around this kid. He shouldn’t have ever in a million timelines gone as far as touch this kid—


And he badly needed a distraction. Something that would keep his hands off of the kid and the kid off of him. Because he was so close to ruining things, ruining things for good, and he was…


He was grasping at straws here but it occurred to him that she’d never been in here before…


"i love you," he told her, and sometimes those words sounded like a prayer. He hoped she found them as reassuring as he did, because he did love her, he could never not love her, even if his love was— it was not the best. "i haven't, ah... you've never been in my workshop before, have you? let me show you around."


And just like that, he let go of her. He... he took one of the kid's hands in his own. He saw how the kid’s eyes widened, a mixture of shock and confusion on her face along with what he bitterly noticed was a wave of relief. And this attempt at a tour was entirely ridiculous.


What was there here to even show her in here? Most of the stuff he had once kept in his workshop was gone.


But the kid seemed to be getting the message because she didn't try throwing herself at him again and—


And that was good.


He felt a little bit disappointed…


But it was good that she wasn’t insisting. Maybe Sans could go another day without sticking his dick in her after all. And maybe… maybe someday


Maybe someday he would be able to have the kid with her full consent, if he tried hard enough and didn’t fuck this up again. Maybe someday they could be together and happy, just the two of them plus Papyrus. Maybe they could…


They couldn’t exactly start a family but maybe they could… could still start something together…


The vivid image of ten year-old Frisk, fresh out of the Ruins the first time they’d met. Chubby cheeks, timid smile, more than a full foot shorter than he was. He wondered what it would have been like if he and Frisk could have a kid who looked just like her mother. Frisk with his child. Uncle Papyrus. Frisk growing old with him.


Frisk, it would always be Frisk for him.


But Frisk—


Frisk was a child.


And how desperate, how lonely, how sick was he that he would even dare to dream and consider… that he could so much as think


Even if it weren’t physically impossible for humans and monsters to have children, it would be impossible for them. He’d caused her too much pain; he’d taken too much pleasure from the deaths and the torture he’d inflicted on him. He’d fucked her more than once, when she was still a kid, against her will. And even if she forgave him, because she was so full of MERCY, how lasting could their relationship be? Theirs was a temporary thing; just a fling that was so much more than a fling. Theirs was a needy love full of mutual loneliness and desperation until she was strong enough to leave him or worse, until she hated him, or even worse, until she finally found a way to escape him by dying permanently.


He couldn’t, wouldn’t, let the kid go to Asgore.


He shook off the vivid image of Frisk blossoming into adulthood. Frisk in a wedding dress walking down an aisle towards him. Frisk laughing at his stupid jokes on date night because they had nothing to hide and she was old enough for him and she had forgiven him. And that sort of happiness wasn’t for them. He could only wish that it was a happiness that Frisk might have with someone else. And maybe at that point in her life he’d just be… just a nasty memory


But if Frisk could have some of that bliss, even if it was meant to be with someone else, even if he was meant to stay alone, who was he to feel—


So lonely, so miserable, so empty and bitter.




So selfishly hopeless, because the happier moments of Frisk’s life wouldn’t ever be while she was with him?


Sans nervously shuffled around the messy contents of his drawers. He pointedly ignored the way the kid suddenly began staring at his broken machine. And he was… He tried to sound cheerful. He really, really wasn’t…


"i keep some notebooks with my formulas here,” he told her. “some old blueprints too... over there is the empty space where my computer used to be and hey!”—he let out a half-hearted chuckle—“so here’s where that drawing went. just between the two of us, kid, this is dr gaster."


He let Frisk have a very brief glimpse of a crude drawing of Gaster (don't ask questions kid, please don't ask questions) before he shoved a handful of papers into her hands and forced himself to keep talking.


"my main area of expertise is obviously quantum mechanics, but lately i've been getting really into statistical mechanics too. that's, uh, it's another branch of physics. it has a lot to do with probability theory. i thought it might be useful for researching the resets, but so far i haven't gotten anywhere with that yet. there really is no way to properly predict when you die without my 'help', kiddo, hah…” He let out an ill-timed laugh, but then saw how she frowned at him and he immediately stopped himself. He—he wasn’t ever a good monster, not even to her. And he felt grief. “uh... sorry. i didn’t mean to be so boneheaded about that.”

And killing Frisk, even though he loved her, had been often enjoyable and had even sometimes been funny. And this was why a healthier Frisk wouldn’t ever stay with him—


He was far too cruel and far too destructive and far too detached to even care unless he was with Frisk.


The kid seemed to let go of his inappropriate and terrible joke. She instead tried to look through his blueprints, but she looked entirely confused. And it was cute.


It was cute the way she looked at his work.


"I don't understand any of this," she finally told him. And it was completely adorable that she even thought that she should. It had taken Sans years and years of learning under Gaster and—


And Frisk was just a child


Just a lonely little child who'd fallen down here way too young and way too early. He again wondered how different things might have been if she'd been older when they met. Would she have still liked him, had she been older and known better, him being what he was?


Would they have had a better chance, if she had been older, at becoming one of those versions of them that would sometimes pop in his mind?


Happy Frisk. Frisk, married to Sans. Older Frisk, sharing a house, visiting Papyrus, adopting a pet or even a child together. Would she have wanted to be a mother? How would she have looked like, perhaps pregnant by her late twenties, if he could have found a way to—


Would she have even liked him, if she’d met him in her twenties, thirties or beyond?


Sans was so absolutely sure that he would have still loved her.


He forced himself to shove his hands deep in his pockets. His little tour of his workplace was temporarily forgotten.


"you know, if you ever feel like you want to understand my blueprints, frisk—learning the science behind it is a little time consuming, but not impossible," he offered. "maybe you could let me teach you, someday..."


And there was something about that spoken someday that spoke of his desperate wish that they might still one day share a future together.


The kid didn't quite catch that. She didn’t quite hear his lonely desperation. And there was just so much, too much, that Sans was too cowardly to say. Frisk instead wrinkled her nose at him, and the sudden lightness of her words caught him by complete surprise. "Sans, I love you, but if being with you means we're going to do homework, I think I’d much rather date Papyrus."


Those words out of her were so unexpected that he laughed so hard and he hugged her.


"hah, i love you,” he told her, and he felt so much affection for her swelling up inside his chest as he hugged her. He pressed a kiss against her neck, his hands moving down to her hips, “frisk, you’re just so—”

So wonderful, so perfect, so stunning.


And if she could only just see it


How amazing she was, how absolutely incredible, how funny and witty and charming and good


How absolutely worthy she could be of just about anyone who could make her happy


If she could only see herself the way he saw her, he feared there would be nothing he could do to stay with her. She’d turn her back on him, disgusted. But wasn’t that so much better than a sad, lonely Frisk?


Wouldn’t it be best for Frisk to be happy, even if that meant that his wildest dreams with her would disappear?


He couldn’t have her either way. Maybe now they were together, the way a vulnerable child and an opportunistic asshole like him could be together. And there was no way that this could last.


She’d hate him when she grew to fully understand all he’d done to her or she’d hate him when he finally gave in and went too far. She’d hate him, she’d more than hate him, and then she and he would go back to their respective lonely miseries, and maybe Frisk would stay alone, just like Sans would.


And he couldn’t help but feel the weight and the sheer gravity of all he’d done to Frisk crush his soul like a lead weight. And the countless sins he’d committed against Frisk and against others kept crawling sickeningly on his back like large spiders.


He hid his face against the kid’s neck with shame. He really hoped that the kid couldn’t see his sins, the blood he still sometimes felt coating his bones, the sick guilt that still haunted him when he wasn’t detached enough. He didn’t know what he would do if she could ever see—


Just precisely what an absolutely terrible monster he was, marred with blood and with tears, unrepentance and sin.


And he didn’t know how he had ever gotten this lucky to have met her. The kid started stroking his back. She felt like— He wondered what exactly it was about her that felt like coming home after a very long day. And she still smelled like vanilla and like a field of golden flowers, and she still meant so much to him, she was love and compassion and a warm embrace.


He whispered a very shy and quietly desperate “forgive me?”


He didn’t know how to interpret the way she very sweetly kissed the top of his head but didn’t say anything other than “I love you.”

Chapter Text

He had woken up from a particularly bad dream feeling very anxious and it really was remarkable, truly, how seamlessly the sudden burst of unwanted anxiety could mix in with his depression.


Just fan-friggin-tastically, to be honest.

He found the kid sleeping next to him and buried his face against Frisk as he clung to her. He didn’t care what time it was. And he felt her stir against him, but he was completely indifferent—


He felt like he had just killed her off not two seconds ago. Was this Frisk or Chara? Was his brother safe? He had killed off both Frisk and the not-Frisk in so many timelines and the Anomaly just kept coming back to life and she was going to keep RESETting the world forever and his time machine


His time machine wasn’t ever going to work correctly. He’d worked on those blueprints so many times and had been unsuccessful. And there was just no way that he could physically transport himself into the timespace and fix whatever glitch it was that was so connected to the goddamn kid and all the RESETs and—


And maybe he was holding on to the kid a bit too roughly. His face was pressed firmly against her chest. His hands—the hard bones that were fingers were probably digging into the skin of her hips.


And he let go. He was so sorry.


And perhaps he should first apologize but his mind was a mixture of dreams, nightmares and paranoia and so the first thing he asked her was “Frisk?


He heard her let out the deep breath she had probably been holding and this wouldn’t have been the first time, regrettably, that he’d killed her off when he was only half-awake and still thinking she might be Chara. It had happened twice before. And he was only getting worse even if his—


His behavior while completely awake had been a bit better—


He hadn’t touched her in weeks, save for their decidedly unsexual cuddle sessions at night and a kiss here and there and—and hand-holding when no one was looking—


And sometimes he’d dare to brush her hair off her face or hug her a bit too tightly or for a bit too long but she had definitely not seemed to mind it when he did—


So his behavior was better but he himself was only feeling worse and worse. The possibility of keeping Frisk only looked more impossible with time. And it as awful that—that the more unlikely he thought they could be, the more he wanted it—


The worse he felt. The more he held on to Frisk. And she had now more than once stated that she had to keep going soon or argued that he had to let her spend more time with Flowey—


And that—that fucking weed had killed his kid once again, too. And Frisk had shrugged it off, just like she’d shrugged off his reflex executions—


Just like she was shrugging off the way his fingers had dug too harshly into her skin, how he had very briefly glanced at her neck and contemplated breaking it and shit—shit


He was a danger to his kid more often than not wasn’t he?


He felt absolutely miserable and unworthy and undeserving even as the kid reassured him that “Yeah, Sans. It’s me.


“You probably had another nightmare.


“Are you alright?”


He hugged her so tight. Moved his head from her chest to her neck. “nevermind me, kiddo. are you okay? i think i—”


“I’m fine,” she cut him off. “Sorry. I wish there was something I could do… I’m really sorry you keep having nightmares about me. I know it’s awful for you to relive it—”


He almost pulled himself away from the kid so he could shake some sense into her because “that wasn’t you who did those things, kid. christ. this isn’t your fault.”


And he so often almost believed it. (If she weren’t around, would the RESETs still happen?)


And then she muttered another “Sorry” and—


He very gently bit at her neck before conjuring up his tongue and tasting her—he couldn’t resist it—


And then he tore himself away from her and “you’re blameless. stop beating yourself up over it. and please tell me it’s time to get up, because now that i have you here i just—” 


He didn’t exactly dare to finish that sentence. They had been doing so well. And Frisk was—she was marginally happier, once he’d backed off physically. She was marginally happier when she wasn’t fretting about Flowey or Papyrus or insisting that she had to give up her soul to Asgore. She would still mention dying every once in a while, but that was thankfully becoming less frequent, and Sans was very thankful for that because Sans had—


Sans had been at a loss of what to do. None of the books that Tori had recommended had been helpful. He’d read them all, but he didn’t think there were any counselors or psychologists in Underground, and the probability of finding human medicine in the dump was laughable. And every time he tried to listen to her, it just stressed him out more. And every time he tried to comfort her, he’d end up—maybe touching her the wrong way—and she’d freeze, and he—


He sometimes got turned on by the fear in her eyes even if he would never admit it. It was too reminiscent of the few times he had fucked her. 


And sometimes he wished that he’d fucked her more often, had fucked her each timeline, because now that he couldn’t he—


Frisk checked her phone. She looked as wide awake as he was. And in the back of his mind, he started hoping for a make out session, maybe some petting, maybe some sex…


“It’s almost seven,” she told him. “You can sleep in, but I have to go.”


And Sans groaned.


Fucking Flowey.


“are you seriously getting up this early just to go talk to your little weed, kid?”


The kid’s blush was visible even against the faint light of her cellphone. “We’re sort of friends now. He hasn’t been threatening to kill Papyrus lately. And… And I think if I don’t talk to him every day, he misses me.” 


He raised a brow bone at her. “should i be jealous?”


She shook her head a bit too anxiously but even Sans wasn’t insecure enough to actually be jealous of a fucking piece of grass. “Please don’t be. I have to see Flowey. He… He mostly just throws insults and threats at me, but he’s pretty much harmless…”


“frisk, he killed you two timelines ago.”


“That was my fault!” she told him. “I—I should have seen it coming. It was an obvious trap—”


He moved his hand towards the kid and let it rest against her waist. She was so soft. So absolutely defenseless. “i want that weed dead, kid.”


She sweetly kissed him on the mouth. It was such an obvious attempt to placate him, and yet Sans felt something in his chest flutter and his bones grow weak. “Flowey is harmless. Just trust me, Sans. By the time this is over—”


And here she went again


“this isn’t ever going to be over,” he growled.


“—By the time this is over, you won’t even remember there was a Flowey. You’ll be too busy up there! And—”




“There’s going to be so much for you to see! And, um, anime isn’t real, by the way—”




“—You should probably mention that to Papyrus—”


He had enough and he got on top of her and he pinned her down by her wrists against his mattress and then he kissed her.


He’d lasted four weeks, five days, three timelines before screwing things up with the kid this time and he—




Why even try?


“you’re not going anywhere. your soul is staying inside you. you’re not leaving, you’re not killing yourself over this, and that’s final—”


She tried to protest, frustration clear on her voice. “I can’t help but do it! It has to happen, Sans. You can’t stop—”


yes i can,” he growled, hands digging into her wrists, and he was getting pissed, and he wanted to help her snap out of whatever self-destructive idea it was she so determinedly clung to but he— “yes, i can stop you, because you belong to me, kiddo.”


She flushed a deep red and looked absolutely furious and humiliated and he knew at once that this hadn’t been the right way to go with her.


I belong to me,” she stubbornly told him. And her voice was small and so quiet but she spoke with such conviction that he almost backed off. “I’m not yours. Just because you made me—”


—fuck him. She didn’t say it, but it was clear that she was talking about all the times he’d made her fuck him.


She kept going. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to do whatever you want. Even if I love you, even if I let you do—other things—this isn’t about you or me. I have to do this. Everyone—


“It isn’t fair that everyone is trapped here when I could help break the barrier. And I don’t want to live anymore anyway. Dying hurts, but living is worse and—”  


And he started freaking out. 


Not this conversation again. Not this one. He didn’t know how to—


A flash of blue magic filled the room and the kid went deathly quiet and pale as a ghost. Had he done that? He hadn’t meant to—


But if the fear in her eyes was any indication, she didn’t really want to die and that at least was good. That was good, wasn’t it? He hadn’t done a bad—what would Papyrus have called it again? He wouldn’t necessarily call it a Violence, he hadn’t hurt the kid, he didn’t even know what it was he’d been doing with his magic but


She was quieter, now. Noticeably calmer. And it was like all the fight had suddenly gone out of her and she was terrified of him.


“did i hurt you?” he found himself asking. It took a very long time for her to answer.


“Um—No,” she finally told him. “You just… I thought you looked like you were going to. You just scared me. I’m fine.”


That sort of answer didn’t make him feel any better. He went back to being a nervous, anxious mess. And Frisk


This wasn’t at all the way he had envisioned them. And he knew that the things he so often dreamed for them were stupid and… and impossible, but still…


It still freaking hurt—to have her be afraid of him like this over a random burst of his magic. He felt like she thought that even death was preferable to… to him.


And sometimes he did agree with her and thought that death would be better than being him. But if he leftwho would take care of Frisk? 


She was just a kid and mostly alone in the Underground and she was right, Tori never visited her. Toriel would never be able to properly take care of her from inside the Ruins and Papyrus was always at Undyne’s lately and it was Sans who took care of Pap and paid rent, anyway. And maybe he was being—no, he was definitely being—a very shitty adult figure and guardian to Frisk but at least


At least he was there, if she needed him, and he couldn’t be there if he just gave up, and she meant the whole world to him and he was—


He was just so tired, sometimes. So bone tired of the RESETs and of himself and of constantly failing Frisk.


She kissed him. Just an innocent peck on the cheek, short and sweet and full of an unspoken concern. He suddenly noticed that he was still holding her down and he let go of her.




And then he tried to get off of her, but she grabbed him by his shirt. "I can... I can visit Flowey later, Sans. Do you want me to stay with you?" she asked him, but that wasn't the real question.


Did he need her to stay with him?


And when was the answer ever anything but an absolute and desperate yes?


"sure," he told her, and he was trying his best to sound calm, was trying his best for his acceptance of her offer to not sound as the frantic admission of his need and desperation that it was. "sure," he repeated, sounding decidedly stupid. "uh, did you have any other plans for today after the flower?"


Frisk looked at him with a confusion evident on her face. "I'm going fishing with Papyrus at noon. I thought he invited you?"


Sans shrugged. He hadn't seen much of Papyrus lately, he had been training extra often with Undyne and he...


Sans sometimes wondered if maybe Pap was getting a crush. That would be unfortunate; Undyne liked Alphys, everyone but Alphys knew that. Though Pap wouldn't be the first skeleton to fall in love with someone who was completely impossible for them...


He focused his attention on Frisk. The kid was carefully studying him. She looked worried about him, which was hilarious—because he was worried about her.


Sometimes it seemed that they were both almost constantly worrying about each other and not enough about themselves.


He pressed a kiss on the top of her forehead. She was so cute, he wanted to keep her with him. Maybe they could spend the day together again. They had been almost inseparable since he once again this timeline gathered art supplies for Frisk and made her an art corner inside his workshop. He was relieved to find out that Frisk still liked to paint; she had been so happy when he’d given her the art supplies and had kissed him so sweetly in thanks that she'd made his knees go weak.


She was so cute, so pretty...


A sudden thought sprang to mind and he stifled a chuckle. He moved his hand from the kid’s waist to the small of her back and held her close to him as he relocated so that her head was against his chest. And he very innocently asked her, "hey, kid. are you a vegetable?"


She moved a hand to grab at the front of his shirt. And she didn't always like his lame jokes early in the morning, but still she suppressed her usual groan and said "No, Sans. I'm a human being."


And then there was silence.


"...aren't you going to ask me why i asked you that?"


"No. It's an obvious trap."


"maybe you're just nervous that i'll find out your secret."


Her head against his chest and he could swear she gave him a kiss through his shirt. "Fine. What secret?"


He grinned. "that you are a cute-cumber, kiddo."


And she laughed so adorably at that before she groaned and then she told him, voice thick with a shy embarrassment, "You're such a dork!"


Sans' grin widened with a hint of mischief. He moved his hand to her side and he tickled. (She gasped—"Don't!")


"am i adorkable? or is that just you?" he asked her, wide awake now and with the full intention of torturing the kid with a surprise tickle attack. She used to always laugh with those as a kid, it was so nice that she was still ticklish— She was laughing next to him—


Pretty soon, she was gasping for air as she kept laughing under him.


"Stop!! HahahaYou—"


"i can't really hear you from all that laughter, frisk," he told her, and he felt his own shit eating grin widen. "gee, you must be feeling pretty happy right now."


"You're—hahaha—TICKLING ME you—HAHA STOP!!"


"stop what? this?"—he tickled her sides further before he moved his hand under her ribcage, another sensitive spot—"you want my hand over here instead?"


"Hahahahaha NO!!!!"


"wow, frisk. i've never seen you this happy," he told her. And then a flash of a malicious grin and he didn't really think it through, but with the kid writhing beneath him he roughly growled at her that "you must really enjoy being under me."


And then the kid froze and she looked at him and suddenly he wasn't tickling her anymore.




"That isn't funny."


"sorry, kid."


"Those were the worst timelines."


"i'm really sorry."


"I never once wanted it, you jackass."


A painful knot formed in his chest.


It suddenly looked even more impossible that they could ever have a nice future together.


"i... i know you didn't," he muttered, ashamed. "i wasn't thinking when i said that. i'm sorry."


There was an awful and painful silence and then "look, do you want me go just leave?"


The kid sighed. She moved her hands to his waist and held him against her. "No. Just… Just never mind. That was rude of me.


"Stay here. Be a lazy bones."


He let out a humorless laugh. "you wanna go back to sleep, huh?"


"It's kind of still early."


And he didn’t really feel like joking, but still he said "really? i hit on you with my best morning pun and you won't even take me to breakfast?"


A snort from her. It sounded entirely forced. "Is that what you want from me? Food? I thought we had something special."


And they were both in hell.


"we're two dorks in love, huh?"


They couldn’t ever be truly happy together.


"We're one dork in love plus a normal person," she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.


He teased back. It was better than facing the mess that they were. "geez, sweetheart. you're not a dork. don't be so hard on yourself."


A roll of her eyes and she stuck out her pink tongue and—and he couldn't help but stare at it—he knew how good tasting that sliver of pink felt—


She didn't notice him staring. And instead, she started teasing him. "Oh, I'm a huge dork: ‘Science, science, pun, science, lame joke, science’."


Sans laughed a bit more genuinely this time. He couldn't help it; that had caught him completely off-guard. "is that supposed to be me?"


"Can't see the resemblance? Well, if you let me go get my backpack, I can grab a bottle of ketchup and my Sans impersonation will be complete..."


"you're heartless," he told her, grinning. "and you forgot to add an 'i love frisk' in between all the 'science'."


Her cheeks went pink. "’Science, science, I love Frisk, bad pun, science’?"


"not quite, you're still doing it wrong," he told her. And then he grinned at her and ran a hand through her hair and "here, let me show you: ‘i love frisk’"—he gently kissed her forehead and her blush intensified—


"i love frisk"—he slowly moved to kiss her cheek and she went so still that she couldn’t be breathing—


"i love frisk (and then probably a hilarious pun)..."—he kissed the side of her neck and moved to her lips, now slightly parted—


"i love..."


He felt the way her breath caught in her throat. And he could have easily finished with a groan-inducing 'i love science'...


He didn't.


"i love you, frisky," he whispered honestly, and then he brushed a soft flutter of his magic across her lips in what was just a hint of a kiss.


And he found... He found that he liked doing that. It made the magic in his bones flutter and his entire body feel weak.


He wanted to do it again but then Frisk beat him to it. She pulled him to her by the front of his shirt and pressed her lips against his mouth in a sweet little kiss. And it felt good.


It felt very good. Even if at first it felt entirely innocent.


They quickly drowned each other in a flutter of soft kisses and he very gently kissed her lips, her chin, her neck...


When she arched her back to him he got his magic involved and he rubbed two trails of magic across her waist down to her hips and—


"is... is this okay?” i don't want to make you uncomfortable.


Her cheeks were red. Her breaths were erratic. And she eagerly said "Y-Yeah. Keep going."


And he almost lost it because this was slowly leading to...


Did she know? Should he back off?


His mind went hazy and his magic went into overdrive when she took his hands in hers and moved them again from her hips up to her waist and—


And she was definitely acting okay with this.


Another kiss and this time he softly bit her lower lip. She seemed to like that. He did it again.


She was probably unaware of how her hips shifted towards him in a very inviting way as her fingers moved across his back. She moved her hands under his shirt and up his ribs and—


Sweet Angel of MERCY that felt good.


They were reaching dangerous territory.


He let her kiss him and enjoyed the feeling of her soft hands exploring his bones and the back of his mind was foggy but frantic. He couldn't understand this. Why was she doing this? Had he done something to imply that she should?


He'd just told her he loved her and he—he hadn't thought that he was doing anything wrong by saying that—he felt so bad


He hadn't meant to imply she should—


"you don't have to do this," he told her even as he hated telling her, because it felt so good to have her touching him the way she was. "i just... i'll always love you. you don't have to..."


She held him tighter. "You’re such a dork...


"I just want to show you how much I love you."


And shit.


Could he really take this then?


No, he shouldn't—she was just a kid


"i already—i already know you love me," he muttered anxiously. "wait for me a... a few years? you don't really know what you're doing right now, kid..."


She frowned at him. "I'm not a virgin. We've had sex before. We both remember. I know—"


"just because i fucked you a few times it doesn't mean you're grown up and mature," he blurted out. And—and shit—


He hadn't meant to sound that crass. This was beginning to look like the start of another fight.


There was an angry sort of silence and then "Like you cared before."


"i know. i didn’t. i’m really sorry, that was very wrong of me," he said. "you were—i really didn't think you would ever remember. and i'm sorry, i'm really sorry i did that to you, kid. i'm trying not to—i want—when you grow up, i still really want—"


And it felt useless and ridiculous, really, to tell the kid about his impossible dreams. Dreams of Frisk in a wedding dress, walking towards him; Frisk with his children; Frisk growing old with him.


What a shameful and selfish and irrevocably stupid dream.


She'd never want him that way when she was old enough to know better.


"If you just let me, in this timeline, fix the things that didn't happen..." she said. "Sans, it doesn't really matter what you did before the world Reset. I remember, but I love you. If you'd just asked..."


He snorted, feeling a mixture of both contempt and disbelief. "if i'd just asked you very nicely when you were twelve to let me fuck you, you would have let me?"


She blushed and went quiet again. And the answer was an obvious yes.


Of course it was yes. She was a self-sacrificing, desperate, lonely


Little kid.


"that doesn't make it any better," he told her. "that i'm taking advantage of... some vulnerable kid. and when you're older, i'm sure you'll realize this. and that's the moment i'm dreading, because kid, as soon as you realize how completely fucked up this all is—the fact that i love you, that i keep touching you, even when you think it's sweet and innocent—as soon as you realize how much advantage of you i'm taking, you're going to leave. and i'm just hoping, if we somehow manage to never have sex again... i'm just hoping that one day you'll—maybe not forgive me, i don’t think i would ever forgive me, but at least


“if you at least didn’t hate me, that’d be—"


"I don't hate you,” she stubbornly told him. And she sounded so sure of that fact, as if it were more than obvious, that the irrational and ridiculous part of his mind dared to hope—


Frisk holding hands with him. Frisk dating him.


Frisk being his friend. And how ridiculous.


"you will. trust me, you will. and that makes me feel so awful, frisk, because i... i adore you. you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. and i know we’re impossible in the long run, i’ve screwed up too much, but i still wish—”


His phone began to ring.


And it wasn’t even nine in the morning and it was Saturday, what the fuck…?


Sans jumped on the excuse and moved off the kid. And a phone call this early was annoying but at least it had saved him from further embarrassing himself. He grabbed his cellphone but it stopped ringing almost as soon as he picked it up.


He became just a little irritated. He checked his missed calls and groaned. Alphys. She always did this. Why did she insist on trying to call him if she always ended up hanging up before he got the chance to answer, she could just text him—


Almost as if on cue, his phone beeped what felt like a million times.


Alphys – Oh no!!! Sorry!! Did I wake you up? I forgot it was the weekend. Sorry!!!!


Alphys – I need to consult something with you. RE: Determination. Papyrus mentioned yesterday that you were free today, so…

Alphys – Oops! I don’t mean to sound like I just need to talk to a physicist. I mean, I’ve also missed talking to you! We haven’t seen each other in a while… Maybe we could also catch up? I mean, if you want to…


Alphys – No pressure!!! We can meet today or some other time. Or maybe I could email you my work so far… If you don’t want to meet. That’s fine if you don’t!


Alphys – Sorry to text this early! Ok I’ll shut up now!!

Alphys – Sorry!!! Good morning when you see this!! Hope I didn’t wake you up!!!!

Sans just stared at his phone.


Frisk looked over his shoulder and casually told him, “Wow, did you get those all at once?”


He—He hadn’t expecting Frisk to be looking over his shoulder. He was suddenly so irrationally grateful that these texts were from Alphys and not from some old fling. Not—Not that it mattered. Not that he kept in touch. But shit—


“yeah… alphys is a fast texter.”


The kid’s face lit up. “Alphys? The lady who recommended Nectarine Girl? I like her. What did she want?”

“she wants me to check her work i guess. a long time ago, i studied determination—a sort of energy that you humans have—with gaster,” he explained. “i’m guessing she wants to compare notes. she’s the royal scientist now; did i tell you that?”

The kid’s eyes went very wide and she looked impressed. “Whoa. She must be very smart.” Sans briefly wondered how impressed she’d be if he had taken the position of Royal Scientist. Probably not very impressed; she’d still think he was a nerd.


What was that, she’d accused him of being like? ‘Science, science, lame pun, science?’


‘Science, science, i… i love frisk, science…’


He couldn’t help but stare at her and feel more than awed.


Then she smiled at him and—


He was head over heels in love with her and—


“do you mind if i go visit her while you and pap attempt to fish? i might be there a while.”

And why was he asking her?

Frisk seemed to be asking herself the same question. “Um—Sure. Are you coming back for dinner?”


“the popato chisps are hidden in the third drawer of my workshop if i don’t come back to save you before then,” he told her, grinning. “but i should be back tonight at the latest. tv date?”


She raised an eyebrow at him. “Is this supposed to be a huge favor to you that I’m okay with you going over there instead of fishing with me and Papyrus? Because if so, I totally demand that we rewatch Nectarine Girl.”


“i’ll do whatever you want,” he told her and kissed her cheek. “but i’m going to complain the entire time because that anime is unbelievably terrible.”

You’re terrible,” she said, and then she jokingly pushed him and she—


“I really won’t ever hate you, you science nerd,” she told him. “I love you a whole, whole lot.”


He imagined Frisk telling him the same thing ten years from now.


Holding hands. Maybe still living together.

And he felt so stupid. To imagine that was completely ridiculous.


He was very honest with her.

“i really hope so, kiddo.”

Chapter Text

His magic did something weird in his chest when he teleported to the entrance of what was now Alphys' lab. Several conflicting emotions crashed in on him at once. He almost dropped his stack of lab notebooks.

It was not at all a nice feeling, coming back here after all these years and timelines avoiding the lab.


He had worked in this lab before, with Gaster and others, back when the Underground was full of hope of one day breaking free from the Barrier. Sans had been—significantly happier and full of hope, too, long ago—back before the RESETs, back before the LV—

Back before the Anomaly, before Frisk, before blood


He... He only vaguely remembered that more innocent part of his life now.


And yet being this close to the lab once again felt like an almost triggered panic attack and a barely manageable claustrophobia. Being this close to the lab felt like a threat of vanishing to wherever it was that Gaster had gone to, probably scattered across time and space in itty bitty pieces if the computer simulations he’d regretfully run afterwards were true. And all that they had wanted was to see if the glitch they’d noticed in the timespace was connected somehow to the Barrier—


All that they had wanted was to free everyone from the Underground without sacrificing a single human soul, back when the entire Underground had MERCY—


And all of that had long ago been a cause that Sans had strongly believed in. He sometimes strongly felt that he had once been a good person, a very long time ago. But there was more than one reason why he had declined Asgore's request to be the next Royal Scientist—


The first and most important reason was that he could probably never be able to work in Gaster's lab again, without Gaster, after what had happened to him.

And also there was the fact that he seriously doubted he could ever be half as good a Royal Scientist as Gaster had once been.


But also he wasn't such a good monster anymore and… and he didn’t care much for helping Monsterkind, not anymore.

And there was no reason why it should matter. They were all stuck down here anyway, until he killed another human off—

He had his own very selfish reasons for collecting the last soul, but so what. So what if he did, it was not like it mattered, as long as he kept Frisk, as long as Frisk didn’t find out


He was going to keep her alive and her soul protected no matter what that did to him.


Sans took a deep breath. He shook away the anxious feeling of asphyxiating nostalgia and claustrophobic sickness and rang the doorbell. And then he waited, a pile of dog-eared lab notebooks held firmly in his hand, for what felt like a very long time. He had long ago done quite a bit of research on Determination so the notebooks felt heavy, but that wasn’t the main reason why Sans wished Alphys would hurry up.


She was probably somewhere downstairs, the lab was actually huge. And that was just his luck that she would be downstairs and might take a while to greet him.


Sans was growing impatient. Why had he even agreed to come here?


He could be home watching Frisk get ready for her outing with Papyrus right now. With any luck, she might have even been in a hurry and gotten dressed in front of him again. She rarely did that anymore. And maybe it was because he always felt so very tempted by it, he always stared—


—a bit… predatorily


And ugh. Maybe Alphys would never answer the door and he’d be alone with his thoughts forever.


He shifted uncomfortably where he stood. He didn’t particularly like being here.

Sans was a skeleton. Heat didn't bother him. But the fact that the lab was also conveniently located at the very start of Hotland was...


It wasn’t doing Sans any favors. Being this close to Hotland reminded him of the time, months ago, probably now almost a year ago, hundreds of timelines ago now, when he’d taken the kid along while he worked his shift at the hot dog stand. They’d had a really nice time, then, just the two of them. And he’d loved spending that time with her and he loved even more how her face had lit up with wonder as she felt the heat, saw the lava, listened to his explanation of the Core, she had loved coming here with him—


She had never once asked him to bring her back here again.


And had she subconsciously remembered even back then, what had happened after their little Hotland date, so many timelines ago? Sans had often wondered. He hadn’t—He hadn’t been at all good to her, after he’d brought her here. And he felt bad, but he’d—

It really truly disgusted him and shamed him that he could still get so turned on remembering what he had done to Frisk after they came back from Hotland. And it shouldn’t. It really, really shouldn’t turn him on. That was a terrible thing for him to have done. He had really betrayed Frisk, he’d never blame her for the way she still occasionally flinched or froze when he got too close to her. He’d done some truly terrible things to her and he was ashamed but the kid had felt—


She had felt so fucking incredible while he had been inside her and—

And fuck—it was almost like she belonged under him, and if he could do it all over again he’d probably still—

It took him so much effort to be even halfway decent to Frisk. The kid was right: he was a very bad monster.




(And fuck, Alphys, hurry up and get here…)




And how could Frisk love him, after all he'd done to her? How could she even stand to be around him, was she really that much of a martyr, did she really hate herself that much? She had practically offered herself to him that morning. And he'd refused—he was still trying to be good to Frisk—but he had still been so tempted and they had still ended up making out after he'd finished texting Alphys and they had still


And they had still—he had still—ended up things with his hand down her pants and his tongue and mouth on her breasts that he definitely shouldn't have been doing with a kid like her. And he had ended up—guiding Frisk’s little hand to—


She had let him. She had learned what to do pretty quickly after he taught her. And maybe what they’d ended up doing had been marginally better than the kid’s initial offer—


But no matter how much she had seemed to be okay with it, he still shouldn’t have


He felt sick with a familiar guilt and an unwanted and even more familiar jolt of shame and misery.


And how could she have let him do that to her, how could she have let him get off with her like that? Did she maybe think that if she didn't, he'd do it anyway? Maybe even do worse?


He felt an unbearably strong and punishing guilt. That had certainly been how... How he’d often been with her. And he felt gross. Filthy. He should have asked her, or offered an easy way for her to get out of doing it, or rather, even better, he shouldn’t have ever started that with her from the very start—


And maybe the biggest MERCY that he could have possibly given the kid would have been to have never loved her.


It was too late for that now. Even if the world once again RESET, if they'd started from scratch, it was too late for them and it was probably the both of them that knew it.


A sickening part of him imagined Frisk with chubby cheeks and a childish figure once again emerging from the Ruins and the particularly vivid image horrified him.


He wished he never once again had to face her like that, knowing what he had done, what he’d probably end up once again doing, to her. The idea of starting another timeline from scratch made him feel frantic and sick. He hoped to never, ever see that kid emerge from the Ruins again because that would be torture


To know that he would in just a few years lust after her, and she would know, too

Wouldn’t she?

What would that feel like to her?


Meeting her again like that would be disturbing and cruel. Dangerous. Sick. Thank MERCY for the SAVEs. Thank MERCY that she’d ended up hiding for as long as she had in the Ruins the very last time she came out because he—


He didn't ever want to see a ten year-old Frisk again. Not in a million timelines. Not ever, just no.


He’d rather die than face that child again. He’d rather die than relive a timeline where he’d be force to relive again the way he noticed her body slowly get curvy, how attractive she suddenly became once he’d realized it, how agonizingly appealing and so sickeningly tempting and—

And she’d been only twelve. She’d been so innocent. And she’d had such an adorable puppy crush on him and he’d— He’d rather die than do that to her again. He’d rather die, he’d rather die


He rang the doorbell again with much more insistence and this time Alphys responded his rings with a stream of texts. 


Alphys – Oh no!!! I thought you heard me telling you to come in. Sorry!!!!


Alphys - The door is open! Please come in! 


Alphys - I'll be there in a few. Things suddenly got busy down here. Sorry!!!1


And ‘please come in’?


To Gaster’s old lab, by himself?

That proved to be an entirely different set of cruel challenges and—


He was feeling more than slightly panicky, now.


And what was he doing here. He kept asking himself that.


He'd rather wait out here and think of Frisk even if his thoughts were guilt-ridden and sick. At least, for all their struggles together, the Anomaly had never disappeared. And she may have died often and gruesomely and violently—at his hand, more often than not—but she always came back, and in their best times together she made him feel so


So—probably like how he was seeking to feel, with his cellphone still in his hand, as he searched for and proceeded to stare at Frisk’s number.


He wanted to call her. He didn't know why. They had just said goodbye what couldn’t be half an hour ago, but he still wanted to.


For all the guilt and the shame her very existence often made him feel, she also so often soothed him.


He settled for texting. And maybe just annoying her with his jokes would make him feel better.


He sent her just the one text:


knock, knock - Sans


The wait was less than a minute before she replied:


Frisk - Come in.


And hah!!


Ha ha ha ha!!!


She could be so— He loved


He felt such a huge rush of affection for her and that chased off all of his anxieties and he was just one hundred percent sure that he adored this kid, he was so grateful for her.


His fingers moved and typed exactly what he felt:


you’re amazing. marry me - Sans


i am only half kidding – Sans


And he really hadn’t thought them through but the texts got sent before he could delete them.


He felt like he was suddenly traped inside a loud and deafening silence. Or maybe time had stopped.


He shouldn’t have texted her that, they were not even officially dating, to write that would be ridiculous, and it was not even remotely funny—


He was her murderer.


And he was desperately trying to think of something else to text so he could play all of this off as a lame joke when Alphys answered the door.


He froze like an idiot with his phone in his hand and what felt like his soul concentrated in his throat.


The phone beeped.


He dared a quick glance at the kid’s answer.


Frisk - Remind me to defuse your lame jokes more often, nerd. :P


Frisk - I love you.


And a surge of his magic did what felt like a leap within his chest. And—she’d probably thought he was just joking, he sort of had been and sort of wasn’t—and he was probably reading too much into it but that hadn’t been an outright refusal and—

And he imagined an older Frisk still willingly to hold his hand and be with him and—


"S-Sans! H-Hi!!! S-Sorry it took me this long," Alphys greeted him. "I, um... I s-said you could come in... Did you... d-did you get my texts?"


"i was just reading them. hi, alphys," Sans grinned, quickly pocketing his phone. "you could say i was mustering up the determination to reach into my pocket."


Alphys snorted, and Sans quickly remembered why it was that he was at least sort of friends with Alphys.


He did often avoid Alphys, but that wasn't because Sans didn't like her. As a person, Sans actually really liked Alphys. She was a very nice monster, if more than a bit shy and socially awkward. And she was a very good scientist... for a biologist.


Alphys herself was great, he had zero complaints about her, but as Gaster's replacement...


He didn't know if it was that Alphys was genuinely a poor replacement to Gaster professionally. Or if it was just that Sans simply resented the fact that Alphys was only the Royal Scientist because—because nobody remembered how great Gaster had been.


No one but Sans remembered Gaster. And sometimes not even Sans remembered Gaster.


He... It was hard to think about that. Sometimes it felt like the entire Underground had committed a huge betrayal against Gaster that Sans didn’t entirely know how to fix.


"Um!! C-come in!" Alphys told him, shifting her body awkwardly so that Sans could come in through the door. She blushed in embarrassment. "S-Sorry the place is a mess... I h-haven't really had the c-chance to clean up..."


Sans himself smirked as he thought of his own bedroom. He had cleaned it up somewhat once he started sharing his room with Frisk—something in his chest leaped again, and Sans still couldn't believe that he was lucky enough to be sharing his room with Frisk—but his room was still considerably messier than Alphys' scattered lab.


Alphys' scattered lab. Gaster himself had kept it considerably tidier hadn't he?


He—He vaguely remembered that.


He let himself take in his surroundings. There was dog food scattered all over the floor, as well as empty noodle containers. Quite a few anime figurines were being used as paperweights for papers full of graphs and data. The papers and notebooks seemed to be absolutely everywhere along with scribbles of what looked like statistics. And the huge tv screen...


...which seemed to have been paused in the middle of what looked like a magical girl anime?


And at least that explained why Alphys had kept the television. Her camera system no longer worked. It had felt a tad too intrusive and downright inconvenient to him, when he’d first found out about the cameras during the not-Frisk’s first genocide run, what now felt like decades ago. And after that, he’d always taken care of sabotaging the system. A mixture of magic and strategically placed magnets was all that it took. And he didn’t particularly like being watched—


And sometimes he had to stop himself from wondering if he might have possibly been planning to do all the sick shit he’d done to Frisk from the very start. When he’d started paying attention to Frisk— What, exactly, had he thought? That had been ages and ages ago, he vaguely remembered that— But he couldn’t possibly have—


She’d had such chubby cheeks. Such a childish, tiny frame. She looked, in her oversized sweater, like she was drowning in it and—

And he couldn’t quite now remember what he had originally thought of her. He vaguely remembered feeling unimpressed. But that very vivid image of Frisk, as a small child, fresh out of the Ruins, was something he had never forgotten about and he—


He hadn’t been attracted to that. That hadn’t been quite what had gotten his attention at first. But there had been something in her, that—


He couldn’t believe that he had once thought that he and the kid could become friends.


He grabbed a few of Alphys’ graphs and calculations started looking through them. It was all he could do to not think of Frisk. "so you're working on determination again, eh?" he asked the monster, and jeez.


She really had been working at it...

Some of these graphs were based on data that Sans himself would have dismissed as irrelevant. Most of it, however, was impressively observant and good. And he was really feeling impressed with Alphys’ close attention to detail, now.


Alphys nodded, looking more than a bit embarrassed, not that she had anything to feel embarrassed about, her research was pretty impressive. "Y-Yes! Um… B-but I think I n-need someone to check over my math. I’m n-not… v-very good at it…”—Sans couldn’t help but snort, then quickly covered it with a cough—“I-I’m b-better at b-biology and chemistry…”

“i’m sure you’re fine,” Sans assured Alphys with a casual wave of his hand. And he wasn’t lying, all her work seemed fine so far. “is this all just statistics?”

“Mostly… a-and s-some Algebra and Calculus…”

“i can double-check your math if you let me borrow a calculator,” Sans said, exchanging his notebooks with Alphys. “and since you wanted to look over my work anyway, could you check my chemistry in the second notebook? i’m pretty sure it’s a dead end, i don’t think dt is made out of ordinary matter, but—”

“S-Sure!” The current Royal Scientist started to look through his work. Her brows furrowed in concentration, and suddenly her nervousness disappeared. “Um, why is most of this Energy related?”

“i’m pretty sure dt is mostly energy,” Sans said. “i could be wrong, but i’ve effectively used it as energy so—”

“But you can see it,” Alphys said. “It’s red once extracted.”

Something weird sank in Sans’ chest. Frisk’s soul was red. How much DT did she have? Or was that just a coincidence? He almost asked Alphys…

It briefly struck him as hilariously ironic that it was Alphys who was the theoretical expert on humans and yet Sans was the one with the most hands-on experience (hah). And there was still so much about humans that Sans simply didn’t know even when he lived with one, had killed several, had—

Had fucked one—

He froze. And he hadn’t truly stopped to consider that fucked-up aspect of the kid’s and his relationship—

Holy fuck. He wasn’t even the same species as her.

And he was fucking her up in many different and unforgivable ways wasn’t he. Shit.

Shit. Shit.

“I’ve always thought of Determination more as a form of very powerful magic,” Alphys admitted to him, interrupting Sans’ thoughts.

Sans forced himself to shrug, still looking over Alphys’ graphs. He—He focused on DT. But he didn’t really care what DT was anymore. “it doesn’t really matter to me what dt is. i consider it a form of energy because that’s what i’ve mostly used it as. and i thought humans couldn’t use magic?” (He thought of Frisk and the other souls, dying over and over at his hand because none of them were strong enough to protect themselves from his magic. Humans definitely didn’t possess any magic.) “not that it matters… the math works just fine if you consider it as a form of energy, so—”

“Well, your math might be right, but just because it’s works as energy doesn’t mean it is,” Alphys told him. She had moved to grab a fresh notepad from one of her desk drawers and was proceeding to write her own notes based on his. “And w-well… If you think about magic, all we know about is our kind of magic. Maybe humans have a sort of powerful magic within themselves that they can’t always control? I—I mean… When you study the legends, don’t they all state that it was human magicians who put up the Barrier? It—It might definitely be possible for them to possess a sort of magic…”

And it was an interesting hypothesis.

But— “do you have any concrete data to back that up?”

“N-no… It’s just an idea I’ve been having. A—a headcanon, if you will—”

Sans snorted. “maybe you’ve been watching too many magical girl animes. speaking of which, i’m still not feeling entirely peachy about your nectarine girl rec, alphys.”

Alphys blushed. Her nervous stutter came back. “I-It’s a good anime! I th-thought you s-said Papyrus liked it…?”

“yeah, paps thought it was good…”

“I’ll admit the anime wasn’t as good as the manga,” Alphys told him, now speaking fast. “Like, maybe give the manga a try? There are a few things in the manga version that weren’t included in the anime or conveyed the right way. Like, out of nowhere Tairi starting to like Jojo in the anime. They did that because they were, like, restricted to only 25 episodes, but in the manga there’s this whole very long love arc and—um—heh… Y-You don’t really c-care about this do you. S-Sorry. But the manga is r-really good! You sh-should see it… I mean… I-If you w-want to…”

And no, no way in hell would Sans want to, fuck your Nectarine Girl mangas, Alphys.

But… But maybe Frisk would want to

He hated himself for doing this but still resigned himself and asked “d’you think i could borrow the mangas from you?”

Alphys beamed. “Y-Yes!!! You’ll love it, I swear! It’s so much better than the anime! I’ll give you the first five volumes before you leave!”

“thanks,” Sans muttered, briefly hating himself and the way he was so influenced by the kid. He was—he was putty in her fragile human hands, sometimes, and she didn’t even know it—

He felt suddenly excited at the thought of Frisk maybe squealing happily when he brought home the mangas for her, in that adorable way she sometimes squealed.

Maybe he’d get lucky and she’d reward him with a kiss. There was a particular way that she would sometimes very sweetly kiss him when she was especially happy with something Sans did. It was one of Sans’ favorite ways to be kissed by her, maybe because it conveyed all her joy and happiness and warmth. And whenever she did that, his bones would go weak and his magic would flutter—

She made him weak and made his magic flutter.

“Is this vector calculus?” Alphys asked him. “Why are you including time in this DT equation?”

And oh. Yeah. That hypothesis.

“you can disregard those,” he told alphys, more out of laziness than anything. He really didn’t want to go over the glitches in the timespace with Alphys. “for a while, i thought maybe dt was strong enough an energy to alter spacetime itself.”

Alphys brows furrowed. “Were you planning to use that, or...?”

“purely academic,” he shrugged, quite literally lying through his teeth. “anyway, it wouldn’t work. for a monster to be able to use dt like that, they’d have to be injected with determination, and it turns out that kind of energy is completely unstable in monster bodies”—He found himself saying and suddenly a foggy image came to mind and something clicked. Gaster jumping into the timespace. Gaster’s face melting.—“they would… they would melt… determination and monster souls are incompatible…”

The kid’s soul as red as DT. The kid’s deaths, when her soul got expelled by her body, altering the timespace and RESETting the timelines. The kid…

The kid’s DT…

And shit.

The kid’s soul was perhaps stronger than he ever thought possible.

And maybe that meant that the kid’s soul was the problem.

Chapter Text

Alphys herself looked like she was having a breakdown as she very quickly began stuttering something intelligible about the side effects  of Determination. Her entire body was shaking. And Sans would have been more concerned—


But he was—he was such a selfish asshole. He’d try harder to focus on her long string of words and rambling speech next time, if the world RESET.


He was too busy right now feeling a grief that was like a sickness. Like pain and like death. It was the sort of grief that felt like dread and misery, like a hopelessness and a lonely, and tired, and a very resigned sort of desperation.


It left him with the strong aftertaste of a bitter resentment.


And he didn’t—he couldn’t possibly care about Alphys at this point. He didn’t have it in him. He was too detached from his immediate reality.


His mind was on overdrive. Making quick connections and pessimistic assumptions. And although he hoped beyond hope that he was very wrong—


He knew, deep in his soul, that he wasn’t.


The kid was singlehandedly affecting the timelines. He just knew it. It made so much sense.


And that meant Sans had his own personal hell to deal with. And the most he could do was to pretend to listen, pretend everything was fine, as his own mind travelled to Frisk’s Determination and the way the kid—the way his kid


The RESETs were her fault and—


And that fact alone was disturbing. It was the worst. Out of all the possible reasons for the RESETs… He’d always suspected that the kid’s deaths somehow manipulated a preexisting glitch in the timespace, but to think that her Determination might be strong enough that she was causing the glitches—


It was suddenly looking like the likeliest possible reason for the RESETs and it was distressing and it was the worst because if the kid’s soul was the problem then the RESETs had an easy and very quick remedy.


Destroy the soul. Get rid of Frisk. And—


‘If he finds out what you can do, he’s going to kill you over and over until you stop coming back.’ Where had he heard that?


It had made little sense until now.


And had he dealt with this problem before? He had a strong feeling of Déjà vu, like this wasn’t the first time he’d had to get rid of an Anomaly. He hated that feeling. It didn’t help him feel like he had a full grip on reality, and maybe he didn’t—but—



Suddenly he felt like he badly needed her. And the worst part was that he still probably had a few hours to wait through before she was done fishing with Papyrus. The worst part was that he was a few hours away from Frisk. And he felt hollow, and bitter, and desperate— And nothing but Frisk could solve it. Nobody else could help.


Nobody else understood and—


He so wanted to go back home and go to Frisk so he could bury his face against her neck like he always did when he felt this miserable. He so needed to feel her soft fingers running through his bones, hear her soothing voice—let her help him relax, calm down, feel better—


And there was no way that he could be honest with her, this time, if she asked him what had happened that had left him feeling so dejected, so hopeless, so depressed. There was no way he could be honest with her when it came to this. And he had—


He had grown to like being honest with her, sometimes brutally honest. Sometimes he forgot that she was just a child and the things he would confess to would frighten her to the point she’d stop speaking but he—


But they


He very often felt like they were more than what they really were. Like they were partners. The best of friends. Almost soul mates.


Not that what they were—that whatever it is that they were—really mattered. The effect of the kid’s Determination on the timespace would have to stay secret either way. And this would be one of the very few things that he would never dare share with her. And perhaps this was the very first confession that he would want to keep from her to spare the kid and not himself.


There was simply no way that the kid could know. And as Alphys kept talking, shaking, almost crying about—about something about an erroneous hypothesis and the effect of DT on monster bodies—Sans occasionally nodded and kept to his thoughts.


And what else could he do? There was nothing else that he could possibly do.


They were all prisoners and his kid was to blame.


Frisk was the problem within the timespace. It was Frisk what was the glitch (who was the glitch, she was a person, he so often forgot when he got like this that she was a person).


And how could he not have seen it, when it was now as clear as day? It was suddenly obvious to him that her soul, bright DT red in color the few times he had seen it, probably contained too high a concentration of DT and it was that extreme concentration, that abnormally high density, that was tearing the timespace apart at the seams and—


If DT worked like time’s gravity, the kid was a black hole.


Frisk was the problem, the glitch, the fault. There was no other explanation that seemed plausible. And he almost laughed because had been going about his research of the RESETs all wrong. He had always expected some sort of complicated reason behind the blips in the timespace, when in reality it was all so simple.


Of course the reason would be just the simplest of Newtonian physics. He felt so stupid not to think about it that way now. Frisk was making the timespace act like a spring. And during each SAVE he had witnessed—hadn't she always looked so determined? The determination was like a freaking anchor, forcing the springs of time to be pulled into a single location. That location, that moment, was weighed down and held in place by the kid’s extra DT, pulling the timespace around it and stretching the timespace as time went forward. And Sans was so sure now that that’s what it was, calculations would prove it, and as time went on


The potential energy caused by the SAVEs would increase. Then the kid would inevitably die and the anchor would snap. Time moved back, the spring’s potential energy became kinetic—and time would abnormally move backwards when it wasn’t supposed to, the timeline would RESET, the entire process would start again. Kinetic energy would become potential energy and then kinetic again, over and over until the extreme concentration of DT was eradicated. A couple of ridiculously simple equations danced in his head: elastic potential energy, the kinetic energy of a spring… And what was the k constant, the only thing he was missing—the equation would fit, it would obviously fit, and could he ever fix it? Could he make the spring break?




The Anomaly, his kid… She was always so goddamn determined. She would always find a way to pull at the timespace, even if she wasn’t aware of it, there was just no way that the RESETs would stop


There was no way to get the Anomaly to stop triggering RESETs unless he literally destroyed her soul or somehow took the Determination out of her.


And he supposed he could always absorb the kid’s soul like she was intending to let Asgore do. Then either the DT would break down and the problem would end, or the DT would stay within him and he would at least be the one in control of the RESETs.


But then the kid would have to die. He’d be all alone again. And even if he weren’t completely alone without her—


An uncomfortable and painful feeling stirred in his chest.


He did love Frisk.


Alphys said something about giving up. Sans nodded. In what felt like a surreal part of his mind, he noticed Alphys looking defeated. And he had seen that sort of broken look somewhere else before—with more hurt, with more grief, with more


He stopped.


A sudden, horrified chill went down his spine as he briefly remembered how, once upon a time very many timelines ago, he could have sworn that he had seen the kid's Determination leave her eyes as he fucked it out of her.


And could he… do that again?


The thought of Frisk bound to his bed by his magic and him abusing her and him destroying her and him using her for whatever long it took until she lost all of her Determination and until he was completely satisfied and—


His mind was racing. He could do that, do it right now, if he wanted to. There was nothing stopping him from excusing himself from Alphys’ lab and grabbing the kid and stopping time and forcing himself in her and—


And this particular thought exercise was making him sick. He felt very conflicted. And on the one hand he wanted nothing more than to see how far he could really go before she was completely broken


It would feel—he was sure that it would feel good. It would feel so fucking good to do that. And a part of him was admittedly pissed at the Anomaly for all the fucking RESETs, a part of him thought that if she was the sole reason he’d gone through all of that then she certainly owed him this much. And it was her fault that she was that tempting to him and it was her fault for making herself so available to him and it was the Anomaly’s goddamn fault that he was—


The anger subsided as quickly as it came and it left him feeling remorseful and guilty. It wasn’t at all the kid’s fault.


And it was true that she was the Anomaly but on the other hand this wasn’t just the Anomaly but this was Frisk.


His Frisk. His sweet kid. The child who had more MERCY than he had ever seen. The only person who had ever looked at him with such love and compassion and devotion that he felt—


He felt so warm and loved and understood when he was with her and


Alphys started crying for real now. Sans couldn’t help but feel remotely sorry for her. He found himself awkwardly trying to calm the scientist down even as he wished that he could crawl into a hole and die, too. And even if it had been just a thought, he felt that he had betrayed Frisk by even thinking of hurting her like he had been considering—


Not without the safety net of the RESETs. Not if she could remember.


He couldn’t do it. He was hers just as much or even more than she was his.


“you did all you could, alphys,” he told the scientist, briefly hoping that her current emotional state was really due to a failed experiment, because from her rambling and mostly incoherent speech he had only gathered that much.


Apparently Sans had made the right assumption, because although Alphys started crying even harder at his words she still let out an agonized “It w-wasn’t e-e-enough!”


And Sans couldn’t understand Alphys but he certainly shared her grief.

He felt defeated. Nothing he ever did would be enough, too.


There was simply no way for him to escape the RESETs. There was just no way that he would betray Frisk like that. And he felt trapped. Condemned.


And was this what love was? Just a willingness to remain forever imprisoned?


If so, he wanted no part of it 


(but—for her, a n y t h i n g)


He felt powerless and weak. He felt— he felt a very sudden burst of panic and suppressed it. Alphys said something about being a failure. He felt a mild relief that he had caught the word ‘failure’ because otherwise he would have once again nodded. 

And poor Alphys. She just kept talking. And how little did she really know.


Whatever it is she had failed to do didn’t at all matter because they were both condemned to a miserable and constantly repeating existence. Nothing mattered. It would all be erased.


And it was entirely his fault, in the end, because Sans was selfish and weak. He didn’t have it in his metaphorical heart to end the kid.


He'd fallen too hard. For the fucking Anomaly. Hah.


And because of that mistake he was going to be forever condemned to this. And so was everyone else, even if they didn't know it (would they ever?). Fucking condemned to the unending RESETting of timelines, to a repetitive existence, to being reduced to nothing more than self-replaying automatons bent to the will of time.


And Sans wished he hadn't broken free from whatever hold it was that time had on everyone else. Wouldn’t he have been happier if he, too, was trapped in the RESETs’ self-repeating nature? If he was still manipulated by time? Confined to the timelines?


What would Frisk have thought of him if he were stuck that way?


Would he have even hurt her? Or loved her? Would they have been happier together or would they be complete strangers instead of—


(Two very lonely, broken people who had found each other.)


(One self-sacrificing and one destructive.)


And Frisk was so very, very altruistic. There was no way that Frisk could know. He would never, in a million timelines, tell her how much effect she really had on the timelines. His kid had too much of a self-sacrificing tendency and, if she knew she was really the cause for the RESETs—


If she knew that she was— not the catalyst, not the trigger—she was the single cause, the reason, the fault. Her Determination was the whole trigger for the glitches in the timespace and fuck, if she wasn’t an Anomaly, fuck, if she wasn’t—


Literally the worst thing that ever happened to him and—


He reprimanded himself so quickly and harshly for thinking that. And it was not even remotely true at all. And in the end, it didn’t matter what Frisk was.

And there was nothing left to do but to give up.

Alphys’ speech had slowed down considerably. “—for r-rambling at you l-like that. I j-just… f-felt like I had to t-tell s-someone and…”

“yeah, sure,” Sans said, feeling incredibly awkward and—


Anxious. Suddenly, he felt so very anxious.

“U-Um. D-do you h-hate me now?? You’ve b-been v-very quiet… I un-understand i-if you d-do…,” Alphys told him. Her voice was full of concern. 

And—And he didn’t hate Alphys. But was he shaking? Hah. Ha ha hah. Why—Why was that?


This was bizarre. It had finally happened. He’d snapped, he’d snapped for good and—

He felt a strong rage and suddenly wanted nothing more than to burn someone, anyone to a fucking crisp with one of his Gaster Blasters and see if after the timeline RESET, if they remembered that.

He froze. Sans froze. And where was this sudden rage coming from?

He felt frantic. Out of control. Anxious and sick. And something was very, very wrong but Sans couldn’t quite place if the wrongness was within himself or not. 

He felt the strong need to get out of there. He needed to find Frisk. She was by the lake, it was past noon, she should be with Papyrus, so why was he feeling so

So threatened and pissed and it felt as if their bond was breaking the feeling of a glitch coming he was paranoid he was imagining things he—

He had been too selfishly focused on himself and not enough on her and their cruel connection and he didn’t notice it until it was too late and

The timeline E N D E D .

Sans was in the bright space again. Unable to move, once again. He was paralyzed in place. The kid was dead. Or, rather—the kid had died. There was an almost hysterical, uncontained and mocking laughter that filled the space and echoed in his ear drums, and the laughs almost sounded sincere.

Maybe the laughter was sincere, but it threw Sans off how uncharacteristically un-Frisk-like it sounded. It wasn’t Frisk who was laughing.


The redhead stood in front of a very dismayed looking Frisk. Both humans were quite a distance from him. And Chara was doubled over in laughter, hands to their stomach, actual tears of laughter falling from their eyes in a way that so completely pissed Sans off and— He could very clearly hear what they were saying, Chara wasn’t making an effort to keep quiet. "Oh my god!!!”—they said, gasping for air and sounding entirely yet pleasantly surprised—“Ha ha ha that was priceless! I can't believe Asriel did that, that was so incredibly clever—"


His Frisk was looking decidedly ashamed and broken. And who did what?


Why had the timeline RESET?


"Betrayed by Papyrus!!" the redhead exclaimed with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. They sounded incredibly entertained in between their bursts of laughter. And Chara almost made it seem like Frisk had just been the victim of the funniest prank in the world, but maybe it was Sans who was being pranked, because


B e t r a y e d  b y . . .  W  h  a  t  ?  


The redhead kept laughing so hard, they seemed to be only barely able choke out their words. "I can't believeha ha ha ha!!! And you fell for that! You’re so stupid, Frisk! Well, we both fell for that one! How long d'you think that took him? Ha ha ha— Wait! Wait! Hang on!! Let’s tell Sansy!”


Suddenly Chara turned to him with an  e e r i l y  h u g e  s m i l e  and said “Let’s see what our bonefriend has to say to this!”

That seemed to snap Frisk out of whatever bleak space her mind had gone to. “Chara! Don’t!!”

Chara waved Frisk off and yelled at Sans, “Yo! Sansy! Guess what Papyrus did to Frisk!”


Frisk pushed Chara. “He didn’t mean for that to happen! Papyrus didn’t know!”

Chara’s laughter started again at that. “Well, of course he didn’t know! He’s always been quite the moron, hasn’t he? But anyway—“ they yelled again at Sans—“Your Pappy helped his buddy Undyne kill Frisk, Sans! Ha ha ha!!! This last RESET was brought courtesy of Papyrus! Isn’t that funny? You have a betrayer of a brother and a murderer fish for a friend, Sansy! But of course you’re still the worst of the bunch, don’t get jealous, now. Nobody else has raped Frisk, you—”

Frisk pushed them again almost like she would a taunting sibling. “Chara! STOP!

“I just want to tell him while he’s here,” Chara said and pushed Frisk back, holding her back with an arm before they playfully made a shushing motion with their other hand and a finger on their lips. They were a few inches taller than Frisk was, and in his stunned state Sans bizarrely noticed how child-like the redhead looked, acted— Were they only just slightly older than Frisk?


In his shock and his confusion he couldn’t help but notice how young the two of them really were.


And he’d more than once killed them both. He was in a sort of relationship with one of them.


He felt so very out of place, all of a sudden—


And he’d never really noticed before how childishly his Frisk and the not-Frisk interacted with each other while they were in the bright space.


Frisk opened her mouth to say something and Chara pushed her again. “I said shush!” Chara told Frisk. “You always get to be the one to talk to him! My turn now”—and then—“Sansy, you sadistic child fucker—”


DON’T, Chara! Don’t taunt him, I love him—”


"—I know what you do to her, I'm always there, you sick—" 


“CHARA!”—Frisk pushed them—

FRISK!” Chara taunted, pushing back, and then they started fighting, pushing and shoving each other, almost like siblings, it was bizarre


It felt surreal to think that one of them had once played in his brother’s dust and the other one was in an almost sexual relationship with him—


Sans was frozen in place due to more than just a physical inability to move.



Who the fuck was Asriel?

Had Papyrus really helped Undyne kill Frisk?


He felt like all he could do was watch them as he waited for the timeline to be RESET. It looked like either Chara or Frisk could take over at this point. And then Chara pinned Frisk to the ground, briefly looking like they had emerged victorious, but then they spat a poisonous “Fine!


“Go back to him, then! Like I care if you let him feel us up! But don’t come crying back here when he rapes you again, you know he will—”


And Frisk looked on the verge of tears. Her cheeks were a bright pink. The kid looked angry, embarrassed and humiliated. She glared at Chara, whose grin became malicious as they stood up and glared at Sans.


“Anyway,” Chara said, speaking rather cheerfully now even as their words sounded as if they dripped with a thick poison. “I strongly suggest that you don’t spend as much time with this one during the next timeline, Frisky”—they gestured to Sans, still immobile, still stunned, and—“I know Asriel…” Chara grinned,


“He was definitely acting out because he was  J e a l o u s .

Sans saw his rage before he felt it. His vision took on a blue tinge—blue from his magic—and


Chara had panic clear on their eyes now even as they kept taunting. “Oh, shit! Ha ha ha ha!!! Would you look at that? He’s super pissed, you’re really done for now!” Chara grabbed Frisk’s hand and pulled her up and then pushed her towards Sans. Frisk flinched and tried to back away.


“I really don’t want to be the one in control for the next round!”—they laughed, pushing Frisk again towards Sans—




Chara ignored Frisk, pushed her again towards Sans, or maybe they were hiding behind her and from him. “Your turn again! Reset, ‘kiddo’! Let’s see how much our Sansy L.O.V.E.s you now!


Sans tried to use his magic.


And then the world once again

R E S E T .

Chapter Text

He was having a nice dream for once. He was reliving a happy moment in a less than happy timeline.


Sans was hiking through the Snowdin forest with Frisk. He remember it being at the kid's insistence. And he was often so lazy, so apathetic, but the kid had managed to convince him to join her in exploring a small dirt trail that ended up leading to a cliff. Even Sans had to admit that the view from up there had been stunning. And Frisk had been so pleasantly surprised and happy that she'd hugged him


"I'm so, so glad you're here with me. I love you," she'd told him. She looked up to him with a happy sort of affection, and then she'd stood on her toes and very sweetly kissed him.


Frisk could be so cute.


And he was surreally aware that this was a dream. He was vaguely aware that he was really in his bed sleeping with an arm around Frisk. He tightened his grip around the kid. He loved her so much. And in the dream, he held her hand and told her so—


He was somewhat aware in the back of his mind that he was muttering his “i love you, too,” against the kid’s neck in the conscious world, too.


And maybe he could even change his dream a little bit. Because sometimes he felt that ‘I love you’ just didn’t suffice. Maybe he could change the dream so that he could tell her just exactly how much, how so very much he really loved her. Maybe he could find a decent way to express how desperately he wanted to be with her, because he did.


He tried doing that and in the dream he opened his mouth to confess but then he woke up to an unbearable pain.


He immediately recognized the awful feeling.


And he knew straightaway that the timeline had been RESET. The kid had clearly SAVEd here. She had SAVEd while they were sleeping, again. Sans sat up, panicked, and sent a quick, by now instinctive wave of barely controlled magic up into the timespace—


Frisk had to be frozen in time too, and he hated doing that to her. But his RESETs were still far worse than hers. He didn’t want her to see. And he often worried, if she saw him going through what would eventually happen to her, that it might upset her far too much, too early, and he was afraid—


He would save her from that for as long as possible and—hah. It was almost funny that he was just now worrying about preserving her innocence and...


He would have laughed at his own hypocrisy if it weren’t for the fact that somebody was loudly screaming. That someone was him. Fuck. It was Sans who was screaming.


There was nobody else. He couldn't breathe. His magic was pouring out of him; he was vomiting out the thick blue substance in waves. And it oozed out of his eyes, his ears, his nose— He was choking. He was dying. He was dead, he had to be…


A loud sob. A desperate wail and a scream and a cry of pain. The memories forced themselves into him as he alternated between screaming, crying and gasping for breath. He remembered his chat with Alphys. He remembered every moment spent with the kid. He remembered what he'd had for lunch in what would now be the future, everything that would be on TV tonight and every night for the next week, he remembered ignoring yet another phone call from Grillby, Papyrus’ multiple arguments with him over Sans’ sock still on the floor, Frisk's face, Frisk's soft lips, conversations with Papyrus, Frisk's every expression, the temptation to fuck her, and it was too much, there was no room for more, the memories hurt, and none of this had even happened yet, the memories were confusing, unnecessary, painful, unwelcome, he didn't want them


S T O P ! ! !


(It didn’t stop.)


The bright space came to mind suddenly and he found himself forced to remember what had happened while his soul was torn out of his body, too.


Chara taunting Frisk. Chara blaming Frisk’s death on Papyrus. The news that Undyne had killed his kid, it filled him with rage, he could barely contain it—


The room went blue and—


Rage. Pain. Jealousy.


Who the fuck was Asriel? He was jealous? The fuck—


Chara better be fucking lying because if Frisk had been cheating on him, he would


He could kill her right now. She wouldn't even know it. RESET. Find whomever the fuck Asriel was. Kill Undyne. Keep an eye on Papyrus. Stop letting Frisk out of his sight—


Not let her leave his bed and take it all out on her and force himself inside of her until she knew whose she was and—


The worst of it eventually passed. His sobs subsided. And so did the screams, but he was so full of hate. He was furious, he was so mad, he hated everything, he needed to talk to Frisk and—


He bit his tongue and retrieved his magic and time started to move once again. He rolled on top of Frisk and he was still mad, so mad, so jealous, possessive, Frisk was already awake and he rather forcefully grabbed her wrists and she better


E x p l a i n .


And then out of her came a very small whimper.


A pained expression on the kid’s face. 


And it— It broke his heart. His kid—


Just a child and the kid was already suffering through her own RESETs.


It felt like the sound of her little cry had pierced him straight through the chest. And he was suddenly filled with a sharp pain and pity.


And it hurt. His chest hurt for her. The kid's pain was getting worse and—


He felt guilty and ashamed. He could be so selfish. His kid, his Frisk—The RESETs were still so new to her and 


His poor little Frisk. It would only get worse for her from here. Worse and worse and worse until she was in an agonizing and blinding pain, like him, until the pain became worse than death, just like his.


And how could he have ever wanted this for her? How could he have wished—


What kind of selfish monster was he that—


He pressed his forehead against the kid’s and tried his best to comfort her even though he knew his best attempts couldn’t possibly be enough.


"shh, kiddo, shhhh" he whispered, feeling useless, inadequate, weak. And he forced away his anger and his hate and his jealousy, for now, because right now she needed him and—


His kid. His poor sweet kid. His Frisk.


He stroked her hair and she flinched. He felt a flash of hurt followed by guilt. And he was forced to face the reality that he didn’t know what it was that she was remembering. She knew that he had hurt her. She knew what he had done. And was she remembering a particularly bad moment, a bad timeline, a bad Sans?


Her pain was all his fault.


He didn’t deserve to be here to comfort her.


But he was all she had and—


"it’s— it’s okay, kiddo. shhh. i won't hurt you," he found himself softly saying, wondering just what it was she was remembering him doing to her as he tried to calm her down. "i won't hurt you, frisk. this isn't a bad timeline. i don't plan to…” To…


To force myself on you and then kill you like I did 

Torture you for hours and laugh at your pain before inflicting some more and watch you bleed to death like I—

Pierce you with bones, burn you with gaster blasters, stab you with my cock because, goddammit, you feel so good and


And he wanted all those memories out.


He hated, hated, hated himself.

He was sickening, dirty, revolting, worthless. He was the most awful, disgusting filth. He’d hurt her so much, he didn’t deserve

He almost cried out and almost started to once again beg her for forgiveness and almost  hid his face against her neck and almost squeezed the air out of her throat and almost—


She stopped the spiral of his self-hate and destructive impulses when she spoke and


"Sorry. It just— My head hurts," she shyly told him, voice so small that it nearly broke him in two. He kissed her forehead and her nose and her cheeks and her lips once, twice, he was anxious…


“i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry, kiddo,” he whispered. "i'm so sorry for what i did, sorry you're going through this, i... i know it hurts. it’ll be alright."—he tried to conjure up enough magic to soothe her with blue lines against her skin but his shaky hands could only hold her tighter and she wincedshit—"sorry. i’m sorry. i've gone through the same thing, i… it’ll be okay,” (he was lying, it hurt that he was lying, it would get worse) “i… i love you. i really love you. i wish…”


She very gently moved her hands to stroke his face and sweetly told him “I’ll be alright. I love you, too.”

And that turned out to be more than enough to make the desperate part of him suddenly come out because he—


The fact that she loved him—that she loved him— A mixture of good and bad timelines danced in his mind, but she loved him, out of all the people she could have chosen, she loved him—and…


He felt a very strong and desperate need that he didn’t quite know how to repress.


And he was already on top of her. He moved his face once again close to hers and he kissed her. And he suddenly felt so needy and horny and he forced his tongue in her mouth, forced all his want and desperation and his frantic, selfish love into her and 


She choked out a sob against his mouth.


It turned him on. It turned him on so much.


And he knew from more than one experience that if he chose to have her now, she would have no choice but to take it.


Knowing that he could made him almost lose control.


And suddenly he felt like holding her down by the neck. He grabbed at the pillow underneath her instead. And he begged her, need and lust thick in his voice, “shh, don’t cry, please don’t cry, kiddo, i just wanti’ll be gentle, ok?—i just need—”


And he stopped himself when he caught himself realizing he was


Basically begging a child for intimacy and


The sudden realization left him shaken and horrified on top of her and he couldn’t for the life of him understand just—just what—


What it was that he was doing. He had told himself he wouldn’t. And


Their entire relationship was just mistake over mistake over mistake.


He shouldn’t have ever shared his bed with this kid. He was suddenly keenly aware of the fact that he had forced himself on her on this very bed. And he had killed her here. He had touched her here. Why was she here with him. She’d never run away from him but he was supposed to know better, he was much older, he should have insisted from the very start that she keep sleeping at the Inn instead of sharing his house and his bed and—


There were what felt like the remnants of thousands upon thousands of timelines living on inside his skull and an unending stream of memories still dancing in his head and


There was blood. So much blood. Hah.


Gaster. Gone.


Tortured his kid.


Papyrus. Repeating.


Promised the lady that he’d—


Grillby wanted a word.

He told Asgore not to worry about it.

It was the kid’s DT.


It was the flower’s fault.


It was—


It was too much, it was far too much


And maybe she saw the horror and the pain and the self-disgust on his face because she suddenly frightened him with the sheer extent of her altruistic MERCY and.


He certainly saw the resigned, determined look in her eyes as she moved her hands from his face down to his neck, his chest…

Underneath his shirt and she was inviting him, did she know that she was? And she looked a little sad or perhaps afraid but so incredibly determined and—


It sent a chill of cold fear down his spine.


“Please just— I’ll do whatever you need me to do,” she whispered. Shy. Tempting. Vulnerable. “Sans, I’d do anything for you.”

He words felt like a knife piercing his chest. She added a sincere and sweet “I love you.”


And he didn’t want her to feel like she ‘had to’—anything.


It hurt that she trusted him this much and it hurt—the way he felt his shaky hands leaving her pillow, moving down as if on their own accord to ride up her shirt, feeling her skin, she was so warm, the softness felt good, she was unmoving, so willing, to let him


“are you—are you sure?” he found himself asking her, horrified, terrified, mesmerized. He was afraid but transfixed and— The mere thought that he could have


He knew she’d feel so good around his cock. It would feel so good for him if he just fucked her again. She felt so good, she always felt good, she meant warmth and love and comfort and He needed to feel good. Just once. Just this once. Just one more time. And he could probably make it up to her if he took her much too early again. He could probably make her come. And if she felt good, too, if she enjoyed it, if he made it so that his touch did to her what hers did to him it would—


It would feel so good. It could be so good.


And he wanted that. (Did she?)


His throat felt dry.

Her skin was soft.


And when her cheeks went pink and she shyly nodded, Sans didn’t think it twice.


He threw himself at her and kissed her, pressing erratic flutters of magic against her lips. And as his hands moved across her body—frantic and desperate and no magic yet, he felt so inadequate, he was just bones and—


She kissed him back. She must really, really love him.


He loved her too and he— he told her— she meant so very much to him and—


“i love you, i love you,” he told her between kisses, over and over as his hands moved up and down her waist, her hips, her thighs, her chest. He felt Needy. Desperate. Possessive. Bold. And she was wearing a pair of his shorts as pajamas but pretty soon she was not and she let him take his shirt off of her and


His mouth on her neck.


His hands up her chest.


And his breath against her skin, rushed and erratic and desperate. There was a distinct undercurrent of fear in him overthrown by a sudden boldness. And he told her again, perhaps to make it up to her, wanting to make sure that she knew exactly how he felt, “i really do love you.”


And then a desperate promise that “i’ll be good, i’ll be gentle, i’ll go slow, frisk, i promise—”


He made her spread her legs for him and moved a hand down to her inner thighs and he started slowly massaging whatever magic he could muster slowly up and down and—


He felt so filthy. Like he was going to again force her to like it. And—


The image of Frisk, holding hands with him ten years from now. Gone.


Frisk in a wedding dress. Frisk agreeing to marry him. Gone.


Frisk on a real date with him. Gone. Frisk starting a family with him. Gone. Frisk officially moving into the house, Frisk laughing at his stupid jokes, Frisk and Papyrus teaming up to nag at him when he was too lazy, Frisk…


Gone, gone, gone and…


Gone was the dream that he could ever be good to her.


Gone were his hopes that they could still somehow end up together.


Gone were his wishes, gone were his daydreams, gone were his wants for her and his hopes for them and all because


Of the stupid RESETs. His selfish lust. His need and his desperation and


His mind was full.


And when he kept going, it took him a considerable effort to produce his tongue. His magic felt frantic and unreliable. Unsafe. Yet when he finally managed it, he licked at her skin and tasted her neck.


She gave such a small, quiet little moan. And it felt so, so good to hear it. It felt deliriously good to know that he could at least give her something because he wanted


To make her feel good and—


“i’ve wanted this for so, so long, frisk,” he whispered against her ear before he very softly bit her earlobe. He licked the soft skin of it with his tongue, and there it was again


A quiet little moan. He felt triumphant. And she was so young and yet—no, no , no. This was the older Frisk he was having. She was old enough and she knew what she wanted and yet she chose him and—


And “do you know how great it feels, to know that someone like you could love me?”


A more stable, thick trail of his blue magic going up her thigh and brushing her clit before it kept going up, up across her torso to her breasts and—


A sudden flash of jealousy and it was completely irrational. He told himself he didn’t have to worry, to fall into the redhead’s trap would be stupid, but still—


“you know you’re mine, right, kiddo? not anyone else’s, right?”


A kiss on her neck and his hand massaging her breast and—


A flash of anger and a need for reassurance. “you’d never let anyone else touch you like you let me, would you?”


He looked up at her just long enough to see her very shyly shake her head and the honesty in her expression, her wide-eyed innocence, it intoxicated him and made him feel so very loved and devoted to her and


He lowered his head and his mouth on her breast. His hand moving down, he had to force her legs again apart. But when he did, she didn’t resist and—


“you promise? you’re just for me, huh,” he grinned. “wow.”

A tingling cushion of blue magic around his fingers. “do you know why i love you?”


Those same fingers around her clit, circling her entrance, he couldn’t wait… He wanted to wait. She bit her lip. “you’re so good, so sweet, so stunning, just perfect…”


“i’m so in love with you, frisk. i’ve never felt this way with anyone before, did you know that?” A little gasp from her and—“have i told you?”—he very briefly probed her entrance with the tip of a single finger and—“do you know how much i want you?”


And fuck if she wasn’t wet for him.


He licked her neck and gently bit.


And then she flinched and—


He paused. “are you okay?”


A very shy and shaky nod of her head.


A very disturbing moment of clarity and the feeling of wrongness from having her naked under him and—


In the back of his mind, he knew he should be frantically pulling himself off of her because shit, shit—he shouldn’t be doing this, this was—


Her face was flushed and her breaths were shallow as she pulled him in a kiss and—

And how could he resist?


He was sin, desperation and guilt.

He pulled at the waistband of his shorts and made an effort to steady his magic and conjured his cock and he






pushed it in.

Chapter Text

They— They didn't talk about what they did after they did it.


He selfishly and irrationally hoped that they never did. And maybe they could learn to forget that this had ever happened. They could pretend that this hadn’t become yet another timeline where he had been impatient and desperate, fucking things up and fucking Frisk far too early.




No matter how much he tried, he just wasn’t meant to be good to Frisk. He was disgusting.


He was a horrible skeleton. And he'd fucked his kid again. He'd fucked his kid. He’d been weak, he’d been selfish and…


He wanted to die inside his sentry station. He wanted to disappear just like Gaster had. He wanted Frisk to forget him. He wanted life to go on without him. He wanted to die, he wanted to die


He was worthless, harmful, sick


He'd fucked the little girl he had first met here not that many years ago. He’d once wished they could be friends. And he'd taken advantage of her instead he had hurt her again he was a pervertedselfishmanipulative sick fuck and—


He hated himself. He was so tired of living like this. He wanted to sleep. And all he had to make him feel even remotely happy was Frisk.


It had felt— so good


to make love to Frisk.


And he felt so afraid and guilty and out of place and undeserving to even think of what they’d done in that context, but to him that had been precisely what they’d done and...


He felt something like a nervous, hopeful flicker inside his chest and suppressed it.


To Frisk, sex with him had probably been some sort of terrible sacrifice.


His figurative heart sank. She’d cried.

And all he’d wanted—He’d just wanted to feel… better, closer…

at her expense


And he hoped beyond hope—he really hoped it had at least felt good for her too. He hoped that she had at least partly wanted it. But this was the girl whose MERCY had led her to sacrifice herself more than once, and she had—


She had remained so stillso completely passive and tense at first, as he fucked her. Her head hidden against his chest and her delicate hands holding onto the front of his shirt and—


He had really thought, or maybe he had made himself think, that she was being shy. Had told himself that she just didn't know what to do, since she was so young, so inexperienced. And he'd even grown excited at the prospect of actually teaching her—of being the one to teach her how good it could feel to have sex with him


His thrusts had gotten harsher the more excited he got and it took a considerable effort to go back to a slower, gentler pace.


(It was in general a considerable effort to fuck her so gently when he'd grown accustomed to physically forcing himself in.)


And he'd lost count of the many times he told her "i love you". Sometimes, she even whispered it back.


He lost track of all he had said to her. He had been selfishly honest, in hindsight. Sans had told her about his dreams of her and his hopes for them and the way that he felt when he was with her and how very much he loved her, how so very much...


One of his thrusts had gone in too deep and hit a spot that forced out of her a surprised, panicky moan and she was so new to this


She was so young. He loved her so much. He was older, he could take care of her—


He could look after her until she grew up, he’d promise—


Another sharp little moan from her and he'd had to put his hand over her mouth to silence her—

("can't remember if papyrus is home" and "we have to keep this—ah, shit—this thing between us quiet, ok? you know i'm not supposed to fuck you, " as he thrust a little bit more fiercely into her)

—before hitting the same spot again and again and—


Stifled moans and screams against his hand. She looked thoroughly aroused yet terrified. It had turned him on. He wished he could go harsher, draw blood. He felt a strong desire to wrap his other hand around her throat and choke the life out of her and—


He'd slowed down once he'd felt she was close.


He'd slowly picked up the pace again and then again slowed down.


And he did this a couple more times until he was ready to come, and then he—


He did start thrusting into her a bit harshly, but she was liking it.


One hand still silencing her mouth. The other one on her clit.


And she had actually rolled her hips to give him better access and—


Fuck, he loved her. He really, really loved her.


She came with muffled moans followed by a scream against his hand and then he shot his load in her and—


She’d started crying, sobbing, while he was still pumping his orgasm into her.


He had been frozen in place by a cold fear and dread that numbed his mind and his senses.


And all he heard was his little Frisk crying. She was just a kid, had he forgotten? Just a kid who had somehow trusted him and  


That he had been sick enough to take her—He was worthlessdisgusting


He vanished his cock. She pressed her face more firmly against his chest and she sobbed and hugged him


"Sorry, I didn't meant to cry, I really love you, please Sans, I’m sorry..."


He wanted to die.


She was clinging to him because he was all she had.


And she was so sad, so desperate and lonely...


(He'd raped her he'd raped her he'd used her betrayed her it hurt he was sick sick so sick he was bad he was terrible he couldn't undo this he was a danger to his kid no matter how hard he tried he was violence guilt and sin he was awful disgusting the worst for his kid he)


He wanted to just go to sleep and try to forget that he had done this.


(And a selfish, sickening part of him hoped that when he woke up the kid would be done crying and she would be willing to let him take her again and again and again for as long as it took for her to grow to want it he wanted her to want it he needed her to want him he)


He couldn't sleep. Not while Frisk needed him. And he was nothing but a dirty, and sinful, and selfish hypocrite, but he still kissed the top of her head and he still stayed and let her cry against him and he still said, his voice a confession that was barely above a sad whisper as he stroked her short hair—


"i really do love you, frisk." please believe that. it’s true.


And the words just felt meaningless.




He had stayed with her until she fell asleep, alternating between apologizing and selfishly trying to explain that what they'd done was simply something that adults sometimes did when—


When they were hopelessly in love, like he was.


He loved her so, so much that it hurt. And he was hopelessly in love and hopelessly devoted and "i only did it because i love you so, so much, kiddo”. i love you. please understand. i love you.


He left out how often he’d told himself it was just meaningless sex.


(That wasn't at all what they had done or so he hoped. He hoped it hadn’t meaningless for her. It hadn't been for him and he really, really wished... He hadn’t done it just to get off. He hoped she knew that. He hoped…)




He spent the rest of the night on the couch after she fell asleep.


He couldn’t sleep. His thoughts kept him awake.


Time passed.




When early morning came, he left for "work" before Papyrus was even up.



And now here he stood, hand about to knock on Toriel’s door even though he knew it was too early for her to be even up. He didn’t know what else to do. He felt like—


Like talking about Frisk. Not the bad truth—that he was in love with her—but the little things that the kid did. How good she’d gotten at painting. How kind she was to Papyrus. How she’d been in charge of grocery shopping that week, all by herself, and had done such a good job he could have sworn that she could live on her own already. How her favorite anime had changed again. How she’d gotten slightly taller. How she’d—


Everything, just everything, about Frisk.

Toriel always, always wanted to talk about Frisk and the way she loved the kid was so often in sync with the way Sans could sometimes love her.


The image of Frisk with his blue come oozing out of her.


He didn’t knock.




And he supposed that at this point he might as well kill her. It was the kindest thing he could do. Maybe she would still remember, but at least in the next timeline what he’d done wouldn’t have happened.


It would have been erased. It would no longer matter.


He couldn’t possibly envision killing Frisk without first fucking her at least a dozen more times and so he couldn’t kill her.

He started getting desperate texts from Papyrus sometime during their usual breakfast time.  He forced himself to ignore them. They were all asking him about Frisk. She wasn’t answering his knocks. She hadn’t left Sans’ room. And where was Sans. Sans was a terrible brother.




And then it eventually, finally happened. He woke up after having fallen asleep again by Tori’s door.


Frisk was moving. She had finally left his room. He could feel her moving out of his house and—


Had he been waiting for this to happen, all this time?


He felt as though an invisible string connected to his soul and his magic was pulling away from him, tensing and tensing as the kid started walking away from Snowdin and towards Waterfall.

And she might just be heading towards her old hiding spot. She hadn’t been there in months, it probably held so many nasty memories for her. But he really didn’t want to face her right now, he felt so unworthy of her and so guilty, that he was willing to give Frisk the benefit of the doubt until—


She moved past her hiding spot and kept going.

He felt a sudden, sharp moment of panic.


And he briefly considered just letting the kid die. It would all RESET, anyway. Nothing permanently bad could really happen, if she came across Undyne.

…He couldn’t do it. He knew that in his darkest moments he was more than capable of causing her pain; but somehow, letting others hurt her was…


It was different. He left his old Snowdin sentry station.


He appeared a few hundred feet ahead of Frisk and waited for her to find him.


When she did get close enough to notice him, she looked defeated.


Her hair was slightly damp, but they hadn’t reached the rainy part of Waterfell yet. Had she showered? Showered him off?

She wasn’t wearing his clothes anymore. He didn’t know why that stung him as much as it did.


When she sighed and asked him the question, sounding tired and defeated, he hadn’t expected it. “Are you here to help me get to Asgore?”


He had expected a bigger confrontation. He slowly walked toward her and took her hand. She let him. He softly squeezed it, ran his thumb across the soft skin of her hand.


And his voice was calm and even when he spoke, but it held in it a hint of a possessive threat that he couldn’t find it in him to repress. “i’m here to either kill any monster that dares touch you or to escort you home.”

She stood so still and then he started walking her back to Snowdin, hand in his. She didn’t fight him. She held onto his hand. And when they got home, it turned out Papyrus had been so worried about Frisk that he’d stayed home (“LIKE SANS ALWAYS DOES WHEN YOU’RE SICK, SINCE HE WASN’T HERE”) and had been looking all over for her once he’d realized Frisk had left San’s room because she’d left his door open.

Papyrus had been so relieved when they came back, he’d hugged Frisk and cried.


He slept in his workshop that night because he’d felt really tempted to give Frisk a punishing fuck as a warning.




Frisk stopped talking for a while.


Or rather, she’d stopped talking as much as she had before. She was still willing to speak short sentences. Mainly to Papyrus. Although she seemed to be always angry at Papyrus.

Not angry at Sans, for some reason, but of all people—Papyrus.

He’d had to correct her tone with him out of Pap’s earshot the few times he’d caught her being almost outright rude, the rare times that she spoke. And in one particularly trying occasion,

(Frisk had rolled her eyes at Papyrus, had heavily hinted that his puzzles weren’t that great and that he’d never make it into the Royal Guard.)

Sans had threatened to take her art supplies away for a week unless she watched her attitude with Papyrus and she had rolled her eyes at him and given him sass—
(“Like I care, dad.”)


She had been acting like a fucking teenager, she was such a fucking spoiled brat. He couldn’t believe that he loved such an obvious child and—


And they had been arguing in the living room while Papyrus was out training with Undyne. He’d pushed her onto the couch and got on top of her, magic flaring, and growled


“d’you want me to just fuck you into submission, you fucking brat?”

Her eyes went wide with fear at that but she knew better at this point than to fight. And he was so angry—he was so, so angry at her for talking back to him and for being so sarcastic with Papyrus—that he almost did fuck her like she deserved to be fucked.




She wouldn’t have survived it if he had.




The weirdest part about them was that they still kissed. They still made out.


They still cared about each other, even though something between them felt broken now.


Their relationship was so—fucked. She was acting more and more like a moody teenager and he was still hopelessly attracted to her, he was still in love. And very often, now, while they argued and fought, he’d get turned on and he would—


Kiss her. Touch her. Force his hand down her pants even if they hadn’t again fucked because it felt so good to have her give up and let him.

She always kissed him back. Ran her hands under his shirt. Pulled him close to her. And her kisses had gotten angrier, aggressive—


Less sweet and less innocent, but he found that he liked less sweet and less innocent.


And he often thought that she was doing it with the express purpose of getting him off. More often than not, he would end up conjuring his cock and grinding himself against her with a hand to her throat.

One time, he made the mistake of loosening his grip around her neck and allowing her some air before he’d finished, and he distinctly heard her whisper a childish “I hate you.”

He stopped making out as aggressively with her after that.




They still did their usual things together. (Even though, sometimes, he irrationally thought that she hated it.)


They still went on hikes, after Frisk insisted enough. They still watched bad television. They still held hands and they kissed, joked around and laughed and napped and were basically inseparable. They still suffered through Pap’s pasta together. Frisk still groaned at Sans’ terrible jokes. And Sans still thought the kid was…


Perfect. Beautiful. Amazing.

Frisk still visited Flowey every day and, after a while, she seemed to forgive Papyrus for whatever it was he had done to her and started spending time with him, too.


Sans’ relationship with the kid now seemed to have a darker tint to it, but they were still together.


And sometimes Sans even wondered if it might really be that bad if they ever had sex again, as long as he made sure that he wasn’t too rough and that Frisk truly enjoyed it.




They were lying in bed, being lazy together, his face against the hollow of the kid’s neck as she absentmindedly ran her fingers through his skull and tried to make sense of his Physics I textbook.

He was feeling so grateful for her right now. Being with her like this was bliss.


She sighed. “What am I supposed to be looking at again?”


“kinematic equations,” he whispered against her neck. Happy. Adoring. In love. “the equations for an object’s position, velocity and acceleration. first and second derivatives, respectively, but we need to teach you proper algebra before we get into that.”

Another sigh and she whispered. “I hate you.”

He laughed out loud. At least this once, he was sure that she hadn’t meant it. And he kissed her neck and offered, “we don’t have to go over this today. would you rather do something else?”

And she knew exactly what it was he was offering. He conjured his tongue and he licked her neck. And then he pressed himself closer to her—


Hungry. Needy.


And suddenly she seemed to have a brilliant idea because she perked up and then she said, “We could make pasta!”



Frisk suddenly sat up. “Papyrus is out! Come on! I was thinking I should just go ahead and make some while talking to Papyrus this morning—”

“while you… when did you talk to pap?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I talk to Papyrus every morning. After I talk to Flowey, while we train. Anyway—”

“while you what!?”


She rolled her eyes at him again with a bratty sort of exasperation before she finished. “—Anyway. Pasta used to be one of my favorite foods back in the surface, and I was thinking Papyrus has sort of ruined that with the way he cooks it, so I thought: I know how to make pasta, why not make some of my own? And—”



“—And it’s the perfect day for it since Papyrus is out and we’re both bored,” she finished stubbornly before asking. “What?


“you’re training with my brother? e x p l a i n .”

“He’s been teaching me how to dodge attacks,” she told him with a hint of defiance. “I asked him to. Can I not do that?”

He suddenly felt anxious. “you could get hurt—”

“I have gotten hurt,” she told him coldly, glaring accusingly at him, and it was clear to him that she wasn’t talking about Paps. “I’ve gotten good at dodging.”


Sans covered his face with his hands and groaned. “you’re still mad at me for hurting you.”


She tried to deny it. “No, I’m not—”

yes. you are,” he told her. “are you still mad that i fucked you, too?”


Silence from her. And that had happened more than two months ago. But still


They’d never really talked about it, they had both been avoiding it, and—


“I don’t want to talk about that with you.” There it was. She sounded both angry and uncomfortable.


“so instead you spar with my brother?” Sans asked her. “do you fight with the flower, too, or do you talk to it about how angry you’re at me?”—and then a sudden thought from the bright space, buried deep under everything else—“who the fuck is asriel?”

Asriel is Flowey,” Frisk spat, defensive. And maybe Sans had overdone it with the suspicion and the jealousy in his voice, because she was suddenly furious. “It’s what—It’s what the bad voice calls Flowey, okay? They wanted you to be jealous. They wanted you to—”


Her words died in her throat.


He raised a brow bone at her, suddenly interested. “to?”

“To be a bad monster, like you are”—that stung—“But I didn’t let you.”


He felt a part of him break. She didn’t let him? Was that why she’d—


Why she’d let him have his way with her and



She shook her head. “Look. I love you. Whatever happens or happened, it doesn’t matter. It’s not your fault, right? It’s the LV and the Resets. If anything, it’s my fault, and I’m really sorry…”


“kiddo, what? of course it—”


She cut him off. “I may not be as smart as you but I’m not stupid. You’ve had to kill me so many times to stop me from hurting people. I know your LV is my fault, and the Resets. I’m not dumb, Sans—”

“you’ve been blaming you?” he asked, bewildered. “how have we never talked about this?”


She shrugged and tried to kiss him. He gently pushed her off.  That was tempting, it was a tempting distraction but—


“you need to talk to me,” he told her. And maybe he was begging; he was so frustrated. He sat up in front of her and cupped her cheeks. “kiddo—nothing that i do is your fault. my LV is—that’s my choice, sweetheart, that started way before you—”

He paused to kiss her lips. Just a small peck. She felt nice.


He did it again.


He slid his tongue out of his mouth and licked her lips and—


She didn’t know it, when she parted her lips to let him in, but sometimes she could be so tempting

“you’d do anything for me, huh?” he whispered. She nodded.


And maybe that was what her love was like. Just completely selfless, unlike his.


He kissed her one more time and “tell me what’s wrong, frisky.”


She froze.


He insisted. A tad more desperate. Ran his hand through her hair and tucked some loose strands behind her ear.  “you aren’t exactly happy, are you? you were short with me and papyrus for a long time. is this because of what i did? kid, i love that we’re together, but—”

“Please just stop. I don’t want to talk.”

“but frisky—”

She kissed him.

Moved a hand down to his pants and across his pelvis.

And he was suddenly terrified. He got off the bed.


“let’s not do that. you cried, the last time—”


“But you liked it.”

And that was as much as he could take.

He disappeared.




He felt utterly ridiculous, buying what was essentially garbage in an alley from a couple of giggling teenage girls. But Bratty and Catty were the best at finding things in the Dumpster, and they always had at least a few art supplies, and Tori had once said that having hobbies would help Frisk if she had depression…


He also bought the whole stupid second season of Nectarine Girl for Frisk, when he saw it. And despite the awfulness that was that anime, he couldn’t help but smile a little bit.


She would be so happy.




There was something weird going on between Frisk and Papyrus.


Another month had passed. He knew, from Frisk, that they were still training together. But now they were also hanging out while Sans was at “work” (sleeping in his workshop), and Paps wasn’t spending as much time with Undyne anymore.


He’d tried to ask Paps what had happened that he’d stop training with Undyne, but all he got out of Papyrus was a cryptic “I CAN’T TELL YOU, SANS. IT WOULD RUIN THE SURPRISE.”


He couldn’t ask the kid. They didn’t exactly talk when they got the chance to be alone anymore.


They kissed. They touched. They almost fucked. And she had gotten desperate for every sort of affection he could give her.


In hindsight, he should have seen that something bad was coming.

They watched the entire second season of Nectarine Girl together. Twice. Then Sans remembered that Alphys had offered him the mangas in another timeline, so he called her and borrowed that.

Frisk was so happy at that and kissed him so hard and she—


He let her get him off with her hands.


(And he’d felt so ashamed after that. That hadn’t been why he’d done that for her.)



One day he woke up and realized he had fallen asleep at his workshop again.

He had spent last night avoiding the kid. He had been feeling particularly horny around her and had thought it... best… if they didn’t sleep around each other last night.

He groggily looked over the papers sprawled across the desk he had slept on. Beginner’s algebra. He had been toying with the idea of teaching Frisk.


Where was Frisk?

Their connection told him his room.


What time was it?

His phone told him 12:38 in the afternoon.

And—ugh. It was Sunday. Paps had probably made spaghetti for lunch by now. (Why wasn’t Frisk in the kitchen with him?)

He decided to go check on her first. She might have slept in, like him. Or she could be sick. She could have gotten angry at Papyrus again. (He worried. He often worried.)


He teleported to his bedroom.


But Frisk… But Frisk wasn’t there.

Chapter Text

He knew too well what he was looking at, the heart-shaped essence floating in the middle of his bed at precisely the spot where he had originally thought he'd find Frisk.


A human soul. He had seen far too many of them to know that that was what it was. And this one was red. He'd seen this one before too. Had forcibly taken it out more than once in many timelines.


It was Frisk’s. The culmination of her being.


This human soul belonged to Frisk and it was currently floating, frail and unguarded, on top of Sans’ bed.


It was full to the brim with Determination. And did she even know what she had done?


There was a brief moment of stunned silence during which Sans' anxious magic filled the room. And for a split second, he didn't know— didn't quite know where he was or what he was doing. He felt tricked, betrayed


Hurt .


And what was Frisk even trying to achieve by doing this? Was she— was she trying to run away?


How had she even managed to take her own soul out? She didn't have magic. How—?


How could his kid


He stumbled out of his room and downstairs, fully expecting to find Frisk sitting on the couch, but found Papyrus instead.



“paps…” Sans found himself asking, “where’s the kid?”

Papyrus’ broad smile  f a l t e r e d .



Sans froze. “w-what?



An anxious sort of nervousness settled in his chest and—




Sans stopped listening.


A cold chill of fury ran through his bones.


How could Papyrus—How could he have


He— He had never before felt— He had never ever before been tempted to hurt


Hurt who? Papyrus? No, how could he? He was his brother. No, not Papyrus, don't hurt Papyrus, it wasn’t his brother’s fault, it was the fucking flower's fault. It was the flower's and it was Frisk's and she would more than pay for it when he found her, he would make sure that it fucking hurt when he got her back and forced her to remember just whose she was and reminded her that he owned her and the RESETs would be nothing, the pain of her deaths would be nothing compared to what he would fucking do to Frisk when he—


He ran outside to look for her and it was a good thing that Papyrus didn’t follow because he teleported as soon as he was out the door.


He looked everywhere he could in Waterfall.


And mad, he was so mad—He was blinded by rage and fury and desperation and worry and—


His kid was on her own. His kid was on her own. She was just a child and she was alone in a strange place and nobody knew her, here, she was potentially surrounded by monsters who might harm her and—


And—God, she’d left her soul in his room. She’d left her soul for him to guard, what had she done? How could she trust him with that? The entire reason behind the RESETS was now unguarded in his room and he was a bad monster, he was selfish, the worst, he could absorb her soul, destroy it, did Alphys end up keeping Gaster’s DT Extraction machine, Sans could—


Somewhere along the line as he searched for her his anger turned into a frantic, desperate anxiousness and—


Frisk would get hurt. More RESETs. And how could he even worry about the RESETs, how could he be so selfish, Frisk was on her way to killing herself, he couldn’t protect her soul from him, he couldn’t, he’d done so much to her and


not this, not this, if he hurt her soul it would be permanent, if he took out its dt it would be permanent, how could she trust him, not even he would trust himself, he loved her so, so much but then the RESETS would come and he might—


He was weak, so weak, just please, kid, come back. He was destructive and he was a danger and he was—


He stopped searching for her somewhere along the river.


He was… He was nothing. He was selfish. Bad. Dangerous. He needed Frisk.


And it suddenly felt to him that it was back to the sadness, the loneliness, the crushing emptiness and the anger and the destructiveness that had been his life without her. Again.


(He needed Frisk to be good. He couldn’t be better if Frisk wasn’t there to remind him to be good. A new timeline would come— Would he forget? Would he be worse? He needed—)


And why was he even bothering to look for her. She would always end up dying, in the end. His kid wasn’t especially strong, or fast, or—


Oror resilient


(He had always had to be careful

not to hurt her so much that she died right away

hadn’t he, when he felt like having fun with her

near the end of the worst timelines)


There was no point in looking for Frisk when she would inevitably die and come back to him once it all RESET. The monsters out here could be inadvertently dangerous to a human girl like her. He sincerely doubted that the kid would even get to Undyne before somebody else got to her.  And once she RESET—once this timeline ended and the next one brought her back to him—


They’d have to talk. Why had she left?


He’d have to—


He hoped for her sake that she hadn’t SAVEd in his proximity again before the world RESET.


(He could be so— So dangerous, to her.

He didn’t want to be.)


He teleported straight back to his bedroom. (He didn’t want to face Papyrus.)


And he—


What else was there to do?


He went to bed and he slept. Feeling hopeless, defeated. Tired.






Days went by and the kid had still somehow survived.


He was beginning to lose hope that she had not SAVEd since she had left Snowdin.


And he— He still mostly just slept. It was too much for him to be awake. When he was awake, he just obsessed over the kid’s soul. (Was it safe? Safe with him? Could he hurt it, could he damage it, could he, would he, it was defenseless, it was the cause of all the…)


He felt guilty that Papyrus worried about him. (Paps had knocked on his door more times that he could count, every day, more and more with each passing day and sometimes he begged him to come out, crying, but Sans couldn’t find it in him to care enough to move and instead he just wallowed in guilt.)


He obsessed over the kid, too. Obsessed over her safety or her lack of it and the possibility of multiple RESETs. But that was to be expected.


And so he very strongly preferred to just sleep. Just to give up. Just to wait it out, maybe if he waited long enough, everything that was currently wrong in this timeline would get erased.


And it certainly didn’t help his current state of catatonia that when he slept, he very often dreamed, and when he dreamed, even if the dreams were often negative, he still dreamed of her.


He dreamed that she would kill every monster that she came across, and in the end, Sans would torture her and kill her over and over


He dreamed that she was watching tv with him and Papyrus and suddenly Sans would set Papyrus up for a pun and Frisk would smile and roll her eyes before Papyrus even caught on to the fact that he was being set up for a lame joke.


He dreamed that his lips were on hers and his cock was in her and she stifled a little moan in between all her little cries of pain and he would thrust in a little harder, force himself in just a little rougher…


And sometimes the things he dreamed weren’t things that had even happened at all. Brief windows and glimpses of potential timelines. Him choosing to do the right thing, him choosing to do so much worse. Younger Frisks, older Frisks, Frisk confessing her feelings for him when she was much older and knew what she was actually doing…


When he could guiltlessly reciprocate.


And whenever he woke up, he still instinctively reached for her only to find that she wasn’t there.


And maybe this was what heartache felt like, when his mind was still numbed by sleep and he moved a hand to reach for Frisk’s soft warmth only to find that her side of the bed was still cold and empty.


Her side of the bed was cold and empty. When had that part of his bed become hers?, like they were…


He dimly remembered the first time he had invited her here, what felt now like years ago perhaps due to the RESETs. It hadn't been that long ago, time-wise, but their relationship had grown so much since then, as had she, because when they had first slept here in his bed together she had just been—


Just a little kid. Just a naïve little child. And he hadn’t been absolutely certain, but she had probably still been just twelve.


He felt guilt at the thought of it and guilt at remembering that he had still already given in once and had physically forced himself inside her regardless of how old she had been. Not that she had remembered, back then.


But he had still remembered.


He had been so scared and nervous, that first night. Worried that he was overstepping more than just the usual boundaries. Worried that the kid might catch on to the fact that he was turned on by her in a way that he never should have been. And in reality, looking back, he had been right to worry. He'd known even back then that Frisk had a big crush on him and had known for certain that he more than liked her. The risky situation that he had put them both in just so he could have her close had been unnecessarily unsafe for her...


He had been so tempted to coerce her into letting his hands roam further than they should, maybe letting things go much further than they should


But nothing terrible had happened that night, other than the fact that he had fallen just a little bit more in love with Frisk.


They had ended up staying awake far later than he should have let Frisk stay up, laughing and joking and talking until it was almost dawn. He remembered that Frisk had been especially funny and talkative, still beaming brightly and beautifully over the fact that she would be spending the night with him. And he—he hadn't deserved to be the reason behind her radiant excitement and happiness—


There had been so much about him that she hadn’t known then and was just starting to know now.


But they had ended up talking a lot about her that night. He’d placed his focus firmly on her and had managed to get her to tell him about her hopes and her dreams and her happiest memories. And she had been just a child, had proven to be far less mature than he had first deluded himself into giving her credit for. He wouldn't pretend now that he'd found absolutely everything that Frisk had said, as a twelve year-old girl, to be especially interesting. But in between her laughing boasts that she had beaten Monsterkid that day at a modified version of what she'd called "Extreme Hide and Seek", and her gushing over an anime that had been too juvenile for him and even for Paps to be very into—he searched his mind trying to remember which anime it had been, had she already started her obsession with Sailor Moon or was she still going through her Princess Tutu phase?—, she had displayed just a few glimpses—


Of the kind of woman that Sans couldn’t wait to meet, the kind of person that she was still growing up to be.


He’d noticed the sincerity of her warm regard towards Papyrus. Answered her questions about how to go about how to approach Snowdrake, who still got startled into attacking her. Had heard her whispered concern over his kind being trapped underground and her shy and honest confession that she often wished she could help all monsters. Sans had been awed by the kid’s honest displays of kindness and MERCY and the sheer amount of goodness in her that had just left him feeling so


So unworthy of even being in her presence, even though he couldn't bear to do the best thing for her and force himself to walk away.


He’d seen Frisk. How she was even then and would always be. She was a bright ray of light in his dark, pathetic little world of sin and loneliness and she was MERCY, she was warmth


Frisk was growing up to be everything he needed and all that he could ever want


And he had seen that in her and had been impatient. Desperate to escape his lonely hell of LOVE and RESETs. He had seen the raw potential in her to be more than a friend, and had chosen—


He had chosen to take her despite her childishness, her innocence, her shy and lonely, glaringly obvious vulnerability. He had forced her into a physical intimacy that she had been nowhere near ready to accept or even understand and he—


He closed his eyes again after visually confirming that Frisk wasn't there. The kid’s soul was still hidden away from his sight and still occupied his empty sock drawer.


He tried to will himself back to sleep.


Maybe he could go back to a nice dream of Frisk.


And there was no point now in wallowing in regret. It was too late for them to be anything that lasted. He would have her until she was old enough and wise enough to see just how damaging he was being, and until then


Until then, he’d make the best of their limited time together, once he found her. He was steadily growing lonelier and even more desperate. And he couldn't know for sure than when he had her back, he wouldn't…


He wasn’t entirely sure that he could stop himself from taking her as many times as he could once he had her back. To will himself to pretend that she could take what he gave her when he forced them to be together. He never felt quite as close to her as he did when he had her naked beneath him. And maybe it was a forced sort of sadistic intimacy—


(That ended with her sobbing and crying and with him feeling miserable, worthless. And that was the kind of sick act that he had taught her that love was—her spreading her legs for him and letting him do whatever he wanted in exchange for the remorseful affection he gave her afterwards to make sure she knew that he loved her and was sorry...)


—but it was intimacy nonetheless and he was desperate enough to force it upon her if it meant that he could fully have her for even a while.




He didn’t often show it right.


But he loved her.




The first RESET came as he was guiltily holding his phone and staring at Alphys’ phone number, trying to talk himself out of asking Alphys if she still had the Determination Extraction machine.


A burst of blinding light and the bright place was too bright

and there was a buzzing in his ears and he just barely

made out the redhead’s voice saying

“he shouldn’t be here, Frisk.”


There was a short moment during which he felt it coming, his magic instinctively reaching for the timespace once he realized in that split second that he didn’t know if Papyrus was home. And then came the piercing, devastating, excruciating pain. It hurt— It hurt


Pain pain neveir-entding and unbearable pain even worse than before and now he was alone and hhis kid wasn’t huere, his kid wars going through the RESET ttoo and his kid had died and where was Frisk, he hjad to helup, he hasd to find her she coutldn’t go through this alsone like he had it would

hurt her, damage her, tthis pain was unbearable

found the red soul in his room and he

Papyrus essenotially told him he and Frisk had tpeamed up with

the flower

she was going to Undyne

Frissk had left

Forisk was gone

he had to stop her he hatd to

he could stop this all if he just took the fucking soul and

the kid wasn’t at all safpe he


He threw up a thick sludge of blue magic and for a moment, he was unable to breathe and—


Magic pouring out of him, his own magic surrounding him, suffocating him, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t think


This could all finally stop if he just  d e s t r o y e d  t h e  s o u l  Frisk had stupidly left with him and—


He felt his magic almost burst and his soul move uncomfortably inside his chest once he realized that she trusted him enough to not hurt the most essential part of her and—


In between all the pain and the sharp, stabbing, excruciating buzzing of dead timelines living on inside his skull he felt a wave of grief and disappointment.


He hadn’t seen her in the bright space.


She’d SAVEd after she left.


The very real possibility that he might never get to see her again suddenly became something he could no longer choose to ignore.


He felt like just forcing time to stand still forever and


And for a while, he did just that.


He went to sleep once the pain had subsided enough.




He woke up and had no way of telling how long he lasted until the absolute silence became unbearable and time started moving again.




The RESETs became a frequent thing.

He’d known that this would happen. He’d known. It was cruel of her to do this to him and it was brutal, it was heartless


It hurt.


It was driving him insane.


He was in a state of constant anxiety. Constantly expecting the tell-tale sign of a RESET. He’d had moments where he was sure that a RESET was incoming, phantom pains and headaches, a persistent paranoia, losing control of his magic…


It had been such a long time since the RESETs had last happened as frequently and unexpectedly as this and it felt too much like— Like the constant string of RESETs he’d had to suffer through as he was gathering human souls, over and over, long ago…


His mind went to a point where he felt like he was only just barely holding on to whatever shred of sanity he still had and he almost, almost stopped worrying about Frisk.




He caught a few glimpses of her in the bright space. Just a handful of glimpses out of the many times he had gone. Blurry sights that oddly felt stolen. And once in a while, very once in a while, he felt like she was talking to him because her soft, soothing voice managed to reach his eardrums despite the now uncomfortable brightness and loud buzzing


(“I’m so sorry. I know it must hurt.” “I’ll be more careful.”)


(And sometimes, “I love you.”)


He didn’t see her until the RESETs started happening frequently enough that he had known for sure that she had come across Undyne.




Finding Undyne was harder than he’d thought. The fish monster was loud and brash, her personality—the complete opposite to Frisk’s more quiet demeanor—making it exceptionally easy to find her if Sans only just listened.


Unfortunately, his need to listen for Undyne’s voice left Sans with a limited amount of time.


The kid would die every five to ten minutes. Sometimes less. Rarely more. It was—


It was an excruciating sort of torture. He felt like—


Hurting someone.


The last time the RESETs had happened this frequently, he had been at the Judgment Hall with alternating versions of Frisk and the not-Frisk, taking it out on her, causing her pain—


And that made him very anxious, now. He felt barely in control and the RESETs weren’t helping. And he needed to keep Frisk safe—not only from Undyne but also from himself—because please, please


don’t hurt frisk.


please don’t hurt frisk, he couldn’t hurt frisk, just please, when he found her, just please—


He hadn’t seen her in so long and he wanted to bring her back and protect her but he—


He was hurt and confused and anxious and angry and—



When he finally saw her again, she still managed to take his breath away.


He found her, bloody and sweaty and still somehow stunningly beautiful, running away from Undyne near a bridge that was close to one of his old sentry stations.


Undyne was moving a bit slower than she was usually capable of, but was still yelling. “COME… BACK… HERE!!!”


And Frisk was—she was begging—“Please stop! Just listen!”


He felt the sudden, irrational need to just appear in front of her and kiss her.




She hadn’t seen him yet. A glowing spear shot toward the kid and she only just narrowly dodged it. She looked so tired, but was still running, and—


Stop, Undyne!”—a pause, was she listening to the bad voice?—“You’re overheating!”


“I’ll stop when you’re DEAD, punk!”


Another spear. Another dodge. And then a string of spears that was too much for Frisk to completely avoid.


A pained shriek when one of the spears cut her leg. It left a gash. And Sans suddenly noticed that there were several cuts and bruises on the kid.


Undyne was  k i l l i n g her.


And Sans… j u s t . . .  l   o   s   t    i  t.

Chapter Text

Sans had thought it was over as soon as it began. He teleported himself behind Undyne and killed her off with a cluster of bones. Frisk’s loud shriek had somewhat startled him; she sounded both panicked and startled, and the sound had pierced his eardrums, but her subsequent hysterical sobbing had felt even worse...


It had done something weird to his chest.


But it was better this way, he told himself. He had to stay practical. Detached. (He couldn’t afford not to be.) His had been a cowardly attack, he knew, but it had been swift and hopefully painless and Undyne had been… She’d been a friend to him and Paps. Sans hadn’t wanted


He’d never wanted to hurt Undyne


Hah. Quick and painless just like the first soul, but what for?


He felt covered in a thick layer of anger and resentment. He didn’t particularly like having his hand forced like this. Hated the fact that he’d had to— He hadn’t wanted— Undyne was dead because of the kid’s childishnaïve idealism and he felt hopeless, and dirty, and trapped, but underneath it all—


Frisk— Frisk was okay, but…


He felt strangely numb and more than a little horrified. He’d always assumed killing a fellow monster would feel somehow different than offing a human; had told himself that maybe he was a murderer but he wouldn’t be as wicked as to ever kill his own kind and yet he’d


In the end, he had. And despite it all, he’d felt nothing.


No overwhelming sense of guilt. No remorse, no empathy. Killing a monster hadn’t felt at all different than killing a human, and hah


Ha ha ha ha ha


He was— He was really the worst, wasn’t he?


He felt hollow. Dead. And maybe the hollowness in his chest threatened to expand and consume him but he was too miserable to care. He was awfulworthless… He really, really wasn’t even halfway a decent person and still


His kiddo was crying. Shit.


He forced himself to suppress the wave of self-hatred and misery that threatened to engulf him and made himself focus on Frisk. He hadn’t seen her in so long. She was clearly badly hurt, he couldn't afford to focus on anything but her right now. And he had gotten used to always being with her, had gotten used to being the one responsible of keeping her safe and unharmed and—


And she was crying so pathetically that it almost seemed like she had lost a friend, too. And his figurative heart hardened just a little bit, because—


He’d only done what he’d had to do.


Frisk’s hands were free of dust. She was free of dust and free of LV and pure as snow and he’d made sure of it at his expense, he’d killed his fucking friend because of her stubbornness, and maybe Frisk just didn’t want to see—


Maybe she just didn't want to see what he’d had to do to keep her as pure as she was, as innocent and bright. His actions were her consequences. And he was always doing the dirty work, wasn’t he—for her, for Asgore, for Paps. And he’d told her he’d have to do this if she tried to leave, hadn’t he? He’d told her and still she’d—


She'd chosen to run despite him begging her not to and she could be, in her own goodness, so fucking stubborn. Sometimes, he really… hated that about her and…


no, no, that wasn’t fair.

He'd known almost from the start that she would be this good. This kind. This MERCYful. Hadn’t he?


Wasn’t that what he loved the most about her?


Shit, he was so mad but she was— It wasn’t her fault. She was just a kid. She’d grow up, eventually—


But right now she was crying and as stupid as the reason was, it was still his fault.


He teleported himself to kneel right in front of Frisk, looking over all her cuts and bruises, wishing for once that he was as good at healing magic as Paps. “kiddo,” he said, forcing himself to sound calm, voice hopefully comforting and soft and gentle. “sweetheart, are you alright?” 


When she shook her head, a certain panic settled deep in his chest.


He moved a skeletal hand to wipe away the kid’s tears and he almost didn’t feel the strong current of magic gathering behind him. He’d been too preoccupied with the way the kid flinched at his touch and hiccupped. A twinge of frantic guilt. And he heard the spear coming his way before he saw it, and he was forced to push Fisk to the ground and dodge—dodge whatever that was—




He started freaking out. That was certainly new; he hadn’t expected that. Somehow Undyne still stood, undying, with a face full of determination even as the edges of her skin had started to turn into dust. She was clutching at her dusty chest—full of his bones protruding from her armor—and was evidently forcing herself to continue fighting, somehow.


Somehow but how on Earth…?


He— He briefly and irrationally thought that Frisk really shouldn’t be looking at something like this. It was freaking even him out, and she’d have nightmares—


(…Hah. Ha ha ha what was he thinking? He’d done the same and worse to Frisk.)


Undyne growled at him, looking furious as Sans pulled the kid behind him. “S-Sans, what the fuck…” He should really just teleport them out. This was no place for Frisk to be, this fight had just turned entirely unpredictable, but he…




He selfishly thought that it was better to just get this over with while he was still sure that he could and—


“Sans don’t,” he heard Frisk whisper behind him, pleading. Her small hand gently tugging at the back of his coat. “Please don’t hurt her, Sans. She just thinks I’m a threat. Let me prove her wrong. Please.”


The idea was so laughably optimistic that he didn’t even consider it. He summoned four Gaster Blasters as Undyne gathered more of her magic. “just stay out of the way, kid,” he told Frisk, taking her hand as gently as he could and pulling it off of him. “be good and hide, ok? don’t look, cover your ears. i’ll come get you.”


And then when she didn’t move and cried out a imploring “Don’t,” Sans teleported as far away from her as he could and behind Undyne.


The move startled the fish monster. She shot Sans wave after wave of spears and forced Sans to dodge them until Undyne started going after the kid, too.


He knew she should have hidden. He’d told her to. She was so fucking stubborn—


A terrifying moment during which Sans automatically tried to turn the kid’s soul blue and move her with magic before he realized that her soul was still out of her and in his room and that wouldn’t work. He would have lost her if she hadn’t jumped away on her own with a loud shriek. His soul beat strongly in his chest and he felt fear, true fear for her


And anger. So much anger. Rage building white-hot inside of him and he was angry at Undyne for daring to even try to hurt his kid, angry at his kid for letting it fucking happen when he’d told her to hide and—


He materialized more Gaster Blasters.  “don’t you dare touch my fucking kid, undyne!”


An angry and incredulous scream from Undyne. “Your kid? Are you fucking nuts? That’s a freaking human, Sans. If you’re on their side, you’re committing treason—”


And then a fleet of bones and burning plasma and Undyne ducking behind her shield and—


The kid started screaming at him. She was crying and begging, “Sans, STOP!!!


Spears from Undyne. “Don’t! Both of you, STOP!”


And Sans bitterly thought that she really was just a naïve fucking child if she thought this could somehow end with MERCY.


Undyne seemed to share the same sentiment; she kept sending spears at him even as her arms started to turn into dust from his blasters. Sans dodged (did she really think he would just stand there and take it?). And after a while, Undyne’s spears started coming out slower and slower. He sent her another wave of bones before he caught her soul with his magic and then dragged her across the ground—


Whatever the kid was yelling, he wasn't going to hear it—


There came a point when Undyne was more dust than monster and for a short moment, he felt victorious—


And then he almost jumped when he felt the aura of a RESET about to start. And everything around him just


d i s a p p e a r e d.


The world turned a blinding white.


And he was in the bright space again.




It felt like an eternity had passed, or maybe time had slowed down to an almost halt.


The blinding brightness faded, like scattering fog. The ringing in his eardrums died. And then Sans could finally see his surroundings, and suddenly he strongly wished that it was easier to move.


The redhead, Chara, sat there in front of him, just less than three feet away from Sans. They had their chin resting on their hand and were staring into space with an odd expression.


They looked like they were deep in thought, yet waiting for something.


And there was no sign of FriskHe panicked. “what did you do?


Chara looked up, startled, staring at him as though they had just seen him for the first time. They didn’t move away from Sans but didn’t answer him, either, which in his anxious state of mind was just as good as a confession.


He began to freak out, where was Frisk? His magic began to grow erratic. It crackled around him and tinted the whiteness blue as he worriedanxious and desperate—because where was his kid, where was her soul


Had he failed had it been absorbed why hadn’t he been more careful it was his fault


Blueness surrounding him. A sudden look of fear flashed across the redhead's features, and then—


"Whoa, calm down! There’s no magic allowed here, Sansy," they said quickly, voice superficially teasing, yet strongly urgent. They shot their hands up in a mocking gesture, palms toward him in a sarcastic gesture as if to appease him. Their smile looked taunting, with a nervousness behind it that— "This place is delicate."


He didn’t care. "where’s frisk?"


The redhead's face changed back to that odd expression. For some reason, their eyes looked—




As if their mind was remembering something that they didn’t quite want to relive.


"She's in the bad place," they whispered, an honest, reverent fear in their voice that sent chills down his spine and made him worry for Frisk. "She’ll come out when it’s over, but we have to wait.”


And… “she’s in what?


Chara shrugged, looking as though they were trying their best to seem unfazed and aloof. Their effort didn’t work. They looked vulnerable and small and— “You're not supposed to do a forced Reset”—childlikeso childlikelike Frisk looked when she was trying to act older than she was—“Our dear Frisky is finding that out now. When you Reset without dying, it gets noticed." There was a hint of hopelessness in their voice, eerily present despite their superficial taunts and outwardly indifferent attitude. He had never before thought that they’d be capable of sounding so helpless.


This was the same human who had often laughed as he killed them and—


It made him feel frighteningly worried for Frisk.


"where is she?" he demanded. "i'm going to her."


Chara forced out a laugh. It didn’t sound entirely genuine. It was disturbing. "You can't just go to the bad place,” they told him. “You get ‘invited’. And hah, no offense—but you're not even supposed to be here, you’re just a stupid monster. You'll never in a million years get taken to the bad place because you’ll never ever be able to Reset, no matter how much you’ve tried”—a strange hint of jealousy in their voice—“and it’s not like you can help her, anyway. You don’t even know what it’s like to be in there. And even if you did, you’re…"


A sudden pause. And then they pulled their knees closer to their chest and hatefully whispered a “You’re the worst one. I keep telling her, you could never help us. You’d just end up hurting us more. Not like she cares, but I do. Y-You—”


A glare from them. They flipped him off. It didn’t seem to have their desired insulting effect with Chara just sitting there, head resting on their knees in a fetal position, arms firmly hugging their knees to their chest.


It just looked sad. Pathetic.


It was so, so similar to Frisk’s more childish moments that—


Frisk glaring at him because he hadn’t allowed the hike with Monsterkid. Frisk arguing with him that she wasn’t some kid, when she clearly was. Frisk—


Frisk stubbornly fighting him as he forced his mouth on hers—hands up her shirt, pressing his—


It felt wrong, somehow, that the not-Frisk could be so similar to his kid and bring out the petty immaturity in them both that he often refused to see on Frisk because he—


He was soselfish


A flinch from them. Chara bit their lip. And then they asked him, voice hushed into an almost trembling whisper, “Can you feel it?”


The random question startled him.


“She’s really suffering in there,” they said, an offhanded comment, and— what?


Chara noticed his confusion. Their eyebrows furrowed with a seeming disapproval. "You can tell, can’t you? You’re connected to our souls, too. You've been here before."




A pause from them and then suddenly, they just looked lonely. Just as hopeless as Sans felt. And when they spoke, their voice was flat. “You can’t tell. You don’t remember. Well, I guess it doesn’t matter.”

He was about to ask them what they meant when suddenly Chara glared at him. They looked angry, disappointed. “You know, I really can’t see what Frisk sees in you.”


It felt like a fight. Sans retaliated. “she calls you the bad voice.”

A bitter laugh. “Ha! You think I’m still ‘the bad voice’? Not anymore, Sansy, you took care of that. Didn’t you know, after you had sex with her and you left us, I was the only one she had left? She asked me how to kill herself.”

A chill down his spine. His sins on his back. And Chara seemed to notice, because their laugh started to become more cruel and genuine. They stood up to face him. “She hated that she slept with you. We both did. But you’ll always use her, won’t you—You sick freak? Well. Lucky for Frisk that I was there, or there would have been a few more Resets. You didn’t even notice she cuts herself.”—what?—“You don’t even care. I told her you don’t care and still she’s in the bad place because she wanted to Save you and, really—”


An indignant sniffle. They looked as if they were about to cry because of how angry they were. And he just wanted them to shut up, he wanted the world to RESET—he was—

Hate and anger  written all over their face. “I’m ‘the bad voice’? I’m not at all worse than you are. We’re both willing to kill monsters, but at least I don’t make her feel gross. Having you inside us feels disgusting! I hope she never lets you do that to her again. She only did it to make you happy, she doesn’t want you, why would you make her fuck you—”

And Sans didn’t even know what to say,

His soul hurt. He wished he was dead.


Chara pushed him. They were yelling now, voice full of hate, and suddenly he realized how much Frisk had been holding them back because—


Red surrounding them. Was that their soul or their Determination?


“Leave us alone! You’re sick, sick, sick—I hope she hates you—”


He pushed them off of him and was surprised by how easy it was when they hadn’t put a knife through Paps’ neck—And everything went red—

He was disturbed to feel the beginning of a bad RESET


There was a sudden flash of—a feeling of—something


It felt overwhelmingly like MERCY


And the very last thing he saw was Frisk.

He was aware of the incoming RESET before it happened. He shot a by now instinctive wave of magic to the fourth dimension.


Time stopped.


And then the pain came and it was unbearable. He was in hell. He got through it…


He left his room and looked for her.

He found the kid in Waterfall, hiding from Undyne. And it was either Chara or it was Frisk this time. It could be either of them. He was so nervous.


He didn’t want another RESET. He didn’t want another death in his hands.

But still he’d do what he had to and his hand on her wrist. His magic enveloped her. He pulled her out of time’s influence.

And there was a brief, terrifying moment when she saw him and blinked, confusion and a hint of fear written all over the kid’s face once she saw him.


It was Chara or Frisk. Chara or Frisk. Kill off or protect, which one would it be—

And then she s c r e a m e d .

For a split second, he was afraid that she was screaming because of him. He felt worse after that when she started crying—her hands shooting up to clutch at her head—


 He caught her just before she fell down and shit, shit, a bad RESET


She hugged him. A wave of relief. It was Frisk. He hugged her back and held on firmly to her.


And he felt frantic and useless and miserable as she cried into his chest and trembled and screamed and—

There was nothing he could do. He felt sick. Not her. He could go through the RESETs, but not her




He brushed the hair out of her face. "hey, kiddo," he whispered, voice feather-light and soothing as he kept his fear and hopelessness out of it. Ran his fingers down to her cheeks and to her chin. A sob from her as she clung to the front of his shirt and whispered a frantic "Sorry. Sorry.Sorry...". And he kissed the top of her head. He let her cry and do whatever she needed to do. And when her sobs only became louder and worse, he had an idea and said "shhh,


"it’ll be alright, frisk. let's go home."


And suddenly a desperate wail from her—“NO!”—She tried to push him away and he had to hold her back with his arms tightly around her waist.


The kid struggled against him. "I can't," she told him, desperate and frantic. "Don't. Don't try to make me. Please. Please."


He held her closer to him the more she tried to push. And several tempting options danced around his head—


Make her anyway. Force her back. She'd have no choice. She'd stop fighting eventually.

She only did it to make you happy,

she doesn’t want you ,

why would you make her—


Guilt guilt guilt and self-hatred self-disgust and contempt he was sick sick shouldn’t have didn’t deserve anything he was bad evil wicked sin and pain and


He let go of her as if she’d burned him. “sorry.”


A half-hearted shove from her and a miserable “I hate you.”


And that hurt. It really hurt. He—


He pleaded. “sweetie


“you don’t mean that, do you? please? i love you.”


And maybe he was just projecting his feelings on her but she suddenly looked absolutely miserable.


“I’m sorry,” she said, burying her face against his shirt. He hugged her. She let him. And—


“I’m sorry. I don’t hate you. I just— I need to leave.”


He felt desperate. It was like his soul was being torn in half and “i can’t let you. please? you’ll get hurt, i don’t want—it’ll only get worse, frisky. just stay with me; i’ll make you happy, i promise, i’ll keep you safe, just please—”


please please please


And when she didn’t say anything, he kissed her. Just once. Twice. And initially he hadn’t meant anything by it. Just a few very brief, light kisses to show her that he—


He loved her. He cared.

You don’t care.

He cared so, so much about her and—


When she didn’t kiss back, he became more insistent.


Desperate. Needy. Just please


A hand on her hair. His tongue in her mouth. And they could—they could have sex—she’d like it—he’d show her she could—he’d be good, he’d be better, it couldn’t be that bad to be with him, she’d grow to like it, she could be happy with him if he just—


just come back frisky please—


She placed a hand on his chest and she very gently pushed him off and she—


She looked so full of MERCY and Determined and—


“I’ll come back.”


It sounded like a promise.




“You have my Soul. I’ll come back. But this is something I have to do.”

But was she hearing herself? That made no sense, to break the barrier, she’d have to—


“frisky,” he pleaded, pulling her close, hoping to talk some sense into her. She could be so Determined to see the best in everyone but this was— “that’s not how it works. asgore will want your soul. i can’t let you—you’ll stop existing—i love you, so please—


“frisky, i’ll be good—we’ll be happy. i’ll make you happy. please?”


And when he tried to bury his face against her neck, she kissed his cheek. Wrap her arms around him in a way that was so warm and soothing and—


He’d miss this. He’d miss her. He couldn’t.


“I’ll come back,” she told him, so sure of herself and reassuring that he almost believed her. “You have my Soul. Keep it. I’ll come back.


“I think I… I think I’ve done this before. Somewhere else. Not here. Just trust me.”


Pain and anguish and misery and “you’re just a kid, sweetie.”


She couldn’t stay out here alone.


She took one of his hands in both of hers. She was so fragile, so delicate. Undyne would kill her over and over and if she got to Asgore, it would be worse—


She didn’t even know that he was supposed to be the one to kill her and—


“Do you want to come with me?”


He looked at her. Disbelief and—


Hadn’t she gone through all this trouble just to be away from him and—


“We can—” she looked sick, anxious


She only did it to make you happy,

she doesn’t want you ,


“We can stay together,” miserable, hopeless,


Leave us alone!


“Just let me keep going, let me make it to Asgore,” depressed, unhappy,


You’re sick, sick, sick, I hope she hates you—


“If this doesn’t work the way I think it will, we can Reset,” Defeated. So defeated.


I’ll do whatever you want.” So, so defeated and sad and


And a desperate, pathetic part of him told him that this was all that he could have and this was as willing as she was going to get.


He felt worthless. Miserable.


And his mouth on hers in a hungry kiss that left it very clear what exactly it was that he wanted in return and—


Her, her, just all of her, he wanted her


(and don’t fight it.)

And maybe it was sick, and pathetic, and unhealthy, to be taking Frisk in exchange for something—


(For what? Letting her go to Asgore? That was a cheap price to pay, and he knew it—Did she?)


But he— He guessed that didn’t matter—


(She was so warm, so soft and felt so good and he loved her and he needed her  and he—)


He felt like the lowest of the low and like sin and like scum but he still took her.

Chapter Text

A long, long time ago, before the first human fell, monsters trapped Underground lived their lives a little differently.


Then the first human fell down. The royal family adopted them. And Sans—Sans didn't exactly remember much about the first human, or the royal family, before the kids died and the queen left— 


So many timelines had passed since then and so many RESETs. And he barely even remembered that they had existed. If it weren’t for the other monsters, he probably wouldn’t even remember that. But Sans did remember—


His times spent with Papyrus were some of his most reliable memories. His brother meant the world to him; Sans would never allow himself to forget Paps. And there was a particular bedtime story that Papyrus had once liked—a story that Papyrus still liked—about a monster prince and a monster princess of no particular importance—


Sans had read Papyrus that story more times than he could count. It was engraved in his brain.


And Monsters did things... Differently, before the first human fell. But after the first human fell, things changed, and the library changed Pap’s favorite story.


Many things changed Underground. When the king and queen adopted the first human child, they declared that Monsterkind would do certain things differently. Human customs were introduced, for the human's sake and benefit. Customs such as Christmas and electricity and television and—


And marriage.


And so the Prince Monster and the Princess Monster ended up getting married at the end of Pap’s favorite story. Sans remembered it took him quite a long time to get Papyrus used to the new ending. Little Paps had been particularly enamored with the idea of—


Of soul bonding. Of what Monsters did before Asgore decreed that they would instead adopt the concept of marriage.


And it was disturbing to Sans, now, that he would be thinking about this. He was clearly some level of fucked up in the head, that Sans would be thinking about Pap’s silly bedtime stories now


Now that he had Frisk held firmly against his chest. Now that he had his hungry tongue in her mouth, his needy hands up her shirt—


He had never once told Frisk a bedtime story. Had he dropped the ball, there?


Should he have tried to be a better dad to Frisk while she had been—


While she’d been so small. While he hadn’t been attracted to her, because of course he had not. Hadn’t he? Should he have tried?


She had been so alone and so tiny and vulnerable and— "i love you."


There were so many things that he hadn't done right.


"you love me too, kiddo. right?"


(She nodded.)


And he had so many regrets when it came to Frisk and there were so many things that he hadn't done right.


“do you still want— i really want to just be with you. do you?”


So many big things and little things that he had failed Frisk in. He’d failed as a guardian, as a friend… And maybe the problem was that he hadn’t even tried. Maybe the problem was that he was weak, and pathetic, and—


("I… I don't know," she told him, and he should have been glad that she had at least been honest with him, but instead the answer stung.)


And miserable and terrible and he’d failed her completely and painfully but


But if he had her foreveruntil the day that she died


" we can still be together, right?"


If he owned her entire beingpossessed her completely— If he took her for good and betrayed her like that in a way that left her completely tied to him


(She stared down at his shirt for what felt like a long time as he moved his fingers up and down her arms, her waist, her abdomen… He kissed her neck. He wanted her. He…)


—Maybe, with time, he could make it up to her.


And wouldn’t they have time, if they bonded?


What a ridiculous and selfish thing to be thinking of now. His soul wasn’t even fit to be next to hers…


But she really didn't have to find out if they bonded and, in the end, Frisk was just a child. She wouldn't know, or much less understand


The magnitude of what he would have done, if he were to try and do it behind her back.


For all he knew, she might not even be able to tell anything was amiss. The bond would be painless. So easy. So quick. She could be his, no matter what happened between them. And so when she looked so resigned and she shyly nodded


"Whatever you want." Whatever he wanted. And he wanted her and only her and only


Only them and only forever and he—


He felt weaker than ever. So low. So disgusting. And he made the choice for them both.


(He would have never had the courage to ask her.)


He brought his mouth to her lips. Gave her another hungry kiss. And he made it quite clear what it was he was wanting, with his hands under her shirt and his cock under his shorts pressed firmly against her. It wasn’t just her soul. He wanted everything. And, "let's go back to my room, kiddo. i'll bring you back here after we're done."


She didn’t protest. He teleported them.


And maybe he would never get to have Frisk in a wedding dress


Frisk in a white dress smiling at him. Frisk being walked toward him by a beaming and proud Papyrus. (And his soul hurt and he felt like garbage at the mere thought of a proud Papyrus.)


And maybe they wouldn't get to have anything that would make either of them even remotely happy—


Maybe happiness just wasn’t for them.


But if they had each other, what did that matter?


And so he made it so that Frisk was lying on his bed. He was on top of her again, like the first time


(Just like the first time when she had been so young and full of an innocent little crush for him and he had been so hungry for her and impatient and hurt her when she had been just this sweet, trusting child and he—)


He kissed the top of her head. Ignored the heaviness deep in his chest. And he forced his breats to remain even and steady, even though he wasn’t feeling steady at all, and maybe he just— She was just fourteen, she was just a kid. Of course she wouldn’t want him, she couldn’t. But maybe when she was older—


Maybe he just had to wait—


She might learn to want him; he could teach her to want him—


She might at least forgive him—


She could at least enjoy sex with him—


And he was only showing her he loved her the only way he knew.


He stared at her and couldn’t help to feel mesmerized. Warm eyes. Kind soul. She was everything he wasn’t, every single thing he didn’t have. And when he spoke, his voice was slightly shaking. He tried to steady it. But "frisky, sweetheart—”


his kiddo—his heart—


“it would really mean a lot— if you let me put your soul back in your chest before i fucked you."


And of course she slowly nodded, she would do anything for him. He felt like garbage, so worthless. He’d stoop so low— and now it was he who couldn’t look at her.




He summoned her soul, even redder than blood, with his magic. Encased it in his cerulean blue feeling more than a hint of possessive longing. And he very briefly and almost casually held her soul against his chest and close to his own before he put it back in her. His magic lingered—


And "do you think, kiddo… if you’re so sure that the barrier will break without using it, do you think your soul could be mine?"


Her face paled at that. She looked almost scared. And it was a very greedy request; she probably hadn’t expected it. But he hoped against hope that in her innocence she’d think he meant it figuratively. And she had promised—she was so desperate to make it to Asgore that she had promised—and so her sweet voice spoke the loveliest words he would ever hear when she said,


"If you want it." And that was as good as intent, on her part.


He kissed her everywhere. A mix of victory and guilt. And, "sweetie, that is amazing. my soul is yours, too. i’m yours, sweetheart." And that was definitely intent, on his.


She looked at him with such an innocent expression.


And a long time ago the King and Queen were the first monsters who got married—


(A spark of cyan magic wedged deep into the red. He pushed her soul back into her chest and she gasped. And was that it? Was it done? He didn’t feel anything different. He felt a flash of disappointment. And maybe it was that she didn't have magic to reciprocate, and maybe it was just that their souls were incompatible.


It stung either way that she couldn’t be his the way he had wanted.)


—and many bonded pairs followed. Many weddings were had. But maybe a wedding or even a bond weren’t things that were meant for them.

He felt— Just completely disappointed.


But he paused and he looked at her, and she looked as pretty as the stars. Her eyes were so wide and beautiful and full of compassion, and MERCY, and she was so sweet. She was so kind. He couldn't help but feel head over heels in love.


And she was enough.


As long as they were together, what did a bond or marriage or any of that matter?


As long as he had her, why should he care?


He tried to ignore the sharp pang of his guilt. Maybe she would have cared, if he’d told her. But it didn’t matter


It couldn't be done either way.


And there were other ways that he could have her…


He adjusted himself on top of her and he slowly removed her shirt. Her pants. Her underwear…


He forced himself to notice the faint lines down her thighs, her wrists. Barely acknowledged before in his rush to take her and glaringly obvious now, how had he missed them? And he— He failed her completely, he looked away from them


pretended not to see them and sorry, so sorry he was a coward he couldn't deal with all he'd done to her and maybe she was really alone when she was with him


He pulled his cock out of his shorts instead of helping her.


(He was such a coward, such a fucking cowardso inadequate and gross and undeserving.)


And he just—


She doesn't want you.



He pressed the tip of his cock against her and it was practicality over pride at this point. He bit her neck. Hard. Marked her with his teeth, at least that was something. She screamed


His hand over her mouth.


And then she choked back—


—just the tiniest, most pathetic of sobs and her eyes were shut and she was bracing herself


She was really, really dreading this.


And why bother to try and fail to make this feel good for her at this point, when she very, very clearly didn’t want him inside her.


He felt so low.


So “sorry.


"i’m really sorry. you’re being so good letting me do this, kiddo. shhh. i love you—”


His hand went to hers. He guided it to his cock. “i really love you, so much,  i want you, you’re beautiful—”


His other hand prodding apart her thighs and another quiet little sob from her and,


He had her guide him into her entrance like the first time and "sweetheart, you’re so good, could you please


selfish request. "do you think you could— could you tell me you want it?"


"Sans…" The misery in her voice was torture. He didn’t push himself in just yet.  


A kiss on her neck. He felt heavy with lust. And he insisted, "could you just pretend. just make me believe it. please? i—i’d really like to hear that from you, frisky. please?"


Her hands holding onto his shirt. She tried to hide her face against his chest and he didn’t let her. She desperately told him, "Sans, I still love you."


And he bucked against her just a little bit. "that's not the same, kiddo. just tell me you want this."


"I can't—” sounding frantic, now.


"It's scary.” Desperate and anxious. “It's gonna hurt.” Afraid. “I don't want—"


"shhh,” he—


silenced her—don’t listen—just ignore it—that hurt—


And he started to ease himself in.


(She didn't want this. He had expected that. But it still hurt and it still stung and he was just—


He was just so goddamn pathetic and miserable and hurt.)


And maybe, with time, she'd learn to want him. (Please?)


And he'd already failed her on literally everything else but—


He buried himself in. He started off slowly. And as he gently thrust himself in and out, feeling insanely aroused by her warmth, hating how disgustingly good he still felt as she winced and kept still, choking away remorse in a knot of self-hate, he thought—


She was so sweet and so pretty and as he took his pleasure from her, he kissed her more than once.


“i love you,” he whispered, pulling himself away only to lean into her again. He loved the way she tasted. So warm and so innocent and yet alluringly inviting, deliriously good. She tasted like what he imagined it would feel like to have absolution—


(If absolution came with the aftertaste of a bitter remorse, with guilt and with sin and with undeserved MERCY at the price of betrayal and a child’s stolen innocence.)


And maybe it just hurt that he could have it in himself to stoop so low in his desperate attempt to have her.


Maybe what really hurt wasn’t that he was doing this to her but rather the harsh truth that he was completely undeserving of it. He wouldn’t deserve her in a million years, not even if she wanted him. And the problem was him, it had always been him


It was him and his love and the thick undercurrent of lust, and of selfishness, and of his greedy desperation that marred the tinypathetic splinter of affection he felt for her deep within his chest. He hated that his love felt so small and so pathetic compared to the enormity and selfless purity of hers and hated how he could feel so insignificantso downright putrid and inadequate as he tried to reciprocate her love with his—marring her like this with a love that barely even resembled love and yet it was all he had left to give and he couldn’t even find it in him to stop


He hated it, he hated it...


But the more he hated, the more he took and—


When she started hesitantly kissing him back, kisses soft and sweet and full of an assuaging sort of affection against the greedy roughness of his magic, it took him by complete surprise and he felt worthless.


frisky—” he paused on top of her, and he didn’t know what else to say. He couldn’t match that sort of affection if that’s what she was wanting—


She didn’t seem to expect him to. “You look so sad.” And there was worry in her voice and there was pity and MERCY and—




She was so good and so selfless that it broke his heart. It hurt


He buried his face against her neck with shame and started thrusting harder into her.


A she gave out a startled cry as he slammed his length in. Shoving himself into her, pounding her, hurting her


Taking out all of his self-hate and his frustration and his inadequacy on her and his sin felt like betrayal and he just wanted her to hurt until he stopped—


And this was just yet another proof that he wasn’t good enough for Frisk. He really wasn’t good. He wasn’t even remotely good enough and if the kid kept insisting on refusing to see just how badly she was mistaken about him he was going to show her just what a mistake it was to love him and it was too late


It was too late for her anyway because she was his no matter what. No matter what it took. No matter how incompatible. And even without a bond to tie him to her, he was always going to be hers.


He licked her neck, lapping at his mark on her skin. Brought his mouth to her ear and growled with thick lust. And he held her still and in place as he fucked her—


Fucked her hard.


Slamming into her and hurting her until she started crying and—


“you’re mine,” he told her, over and over as he stabbed her with his cock and she— She knew better than to beg him to stop at this point. She knew that turned him on. He’d gotten so close to killing her before when she had begged for MERCY and—


He already had killed her before and ended so many timelines—


And so after a while she just gave up and just let him and cried quietly as he slammed himself into her and he—


His hand to her throat. His voice deep, menacing. “tell me you want this.”


Her answer was cold and mechanical. “I want this.”


And that wasn’t enough, he needed more. He wanted her to mean it but—


Just making her say it felt good. Just forcing her under him felt wonderful. And so he kept going, “beg me for more, kid.”


A flash of something in her. It looked disturbingly like anger. And when she spoke, the tone was cutting and sarcastic, it didn’t suit her at all. And she said, “Please, I guess.”


It was so unexpected that he stopped halfway inside her.


That… That stung.


And he suddenly found himself just—




He felt so small, so worthless. Just completely undesirable and—


sorry, frisk.


She seemed to regret snapping at him pretty much immediately. Let out a heavy sigh. Gave him a look that implied a resigned sort of forgiveness. And he couldn’t help but notice how stiff and forced she felt as she wrapped her arms around him, let him bury his head against her neck. And “No. I’m sorry. It’s—It’s okay.”


And no, no it wasn’t




He couldn’t do it. He couldn't keep going. He wanted to but…


He pulled out of her. “sorry.”


And he would have rolled off of her too but he couldn’t bring himself to leave her embrace.


How twisted was that?


She was comforting him.


And he let her move her hands down his skull and across his back and maybe he should just fall asleep. They had all the time in the world now that he had stopped it. And he’d have to bring her back to Undyne eventually, but—


“I feel so tired."


Had she read his mind? This was perfect, they could—


“And it doesn’t feel like me.”



And for what felt like the longest moment, he felt like time had stopped even for them. The significance of that statement sent alarm bells through his head. And—


"what—what d'you mean, sweetie?"


“I feel tired but I don’t. Chara is freaking out. And something weird feels different. Did you… Did you do something?”


Disbelief mixed with victory and guilt.


He didn’t feel anything…


"kiddo, i don't know what you're talking about," and that was a bold-faced lie. He was tired. He was what was different. This was a bond. Her bond. He hadn’t bonded, but she had—


The weight of responsibility for a partial bond that he couldn’t feel and he was afraid and excited and simply awed and victorious and—


“Are—Are you lying?” She tried to push him off. “You’re lying!” It didn’t work. “Oh my God! What did you do? Sans!” And now kicking and shoving and—


He took her wrists and pinned her to the bed. Bit her earlobe, kissed her neck. And— “i didn’t do anything. sweetheart, are you listening to the bad voice?”


She stopped.


“maybe you’ve just been without your soul too long,” he told her. He was a filthy liar but she didn’t have to know—


He felt so— So in love with her and triumphant. This felt far better than when he finally got her to stay away from Monsterkid—


And when she looked like she was second-guessing herself, he suggested, “maybe you really are tired. Sweetie, how about you spend the night here? i'll take you to back in the morning."


She got anxious. "I can’t. Undyne's looking for me—"


And he laughed. Did she really think that was a problem? "you'll always find her in the same spot," he told her, waving off her concern as he brushed the hair out of her face before rolling off of her. "don't worry about it. they're all so predictable, kid." He kissed her cheek. And she was still so naïve. He pulled her close and she barely resisted.


"it doesn't really matter what you do or when you do it. you'll see. we’re the only ones who’ll ever change, kiddo.”


She looked like she was about to argue with him but held back. He made sure to cover her with his blanket. And he summoned her phone out of her shorts on the floor with magic, and "wanna see a neat trick? check the time."


She gave him a look that made him suspect that she wasn’t arguing because she was listening to Chara but she still reluctantly opened her phone and he ignored it. The display still said it was eight thirty-two at night, the time she had SAVEd. Papyrus had probably already gone to bed. He had stopped knocking on Sans’ door asking for a bedtime story.


And Undyne was probably still looking for her. Frozen in time, he wished he could keep them like that forever. Make it so that it was just him and Frisk, and sometimes Paps. Make it so that there were no more RESETs. Erase the possibility of more repeats, delete the constant reminders that the two of them were completely isolated. But still, he snapped his fingers—


His magic left the timespace. He regained the sense of normalcy that he hadn’t quite known he’d lost. A few seconds passed…


And it felt so right, to share his bed again with Frisk. It felt so good, to know she had bonded with him. And she was so quiet against him, probably lost in her head and trying to figure out just what exactly it was that felt so different for her…


Him. It was him. His magic blended into her soul. And he felt possessively victorious and he’d never, ever tell


He kissed her cheek and he loved her. He wondered if she could feel just how much he did.


A rush of affection. A slight pink on her cheeks.


He felt a guilty sort of happy.


And suddenly it was eight thirty-three.

Chapter Text

He dreamt of the warm, sticky wetness of blood on his fingers.


Of blood covering his entire body, dampening his shirt and his coat with a dark red color. The coppery scent filled his nose cavity, and he heard crying...


The soft, almost inaudible cry of a girl somehow reverberated so loud inside his skull that the sound pierced his ear drums.


Sans thought, for a moment, that he was just reliving the memory of a past timeline. That he was reliving the feel of human blood on his bones, coating him in a red layer of regret and of sin, and he—


The loud echoes of screams and of empty threats and of pained cries and of begging were strangely absent in this memory. The cries hurt his soul. And this wasn’t a memory.


And then his surroundings somehow materialized themselves in front of him, and he wasn't at the hall—


He wasn't anywhere where he had… Where he had tortured…


He was in his bedroom. And he had killed Frisk in here before, but save for that once, he hadn’t really—


He froze dead in his track when he discovered that on top of his bed lay the lifeless body of a very small girl.


He found that he had stopped breathing.


And the kid was so still and curled up in his bed in a way that it looked like she might have been sleeping. The illusion was shattered by the sharp bones protruding grotesquely from her chest, her own blood dampening her shirt to such an extent that Sans couldn’t even tell what color her shirt was. And Sans felt a jolt of panic, briefly, because he couldn’t remember


He couldn’t remember having killed Frisk. All evidence pointed to this being a tiny Frisk. But this kid wasn’t Frisk.


She wasn’t Frisk but she looked like Frisk, just a little bit tinier than Frisk had been when she'd come to him. She had same messy brown hair. She had the same chubby cheeks and the same little nose. And in his dreamlike state, he somehow knew this kid was Frisk's.


Frisk's kid, somehow. His and Frisk's.


Her red blood coated his bones and Sans was horrified but sure that, for some reason, it had been he who had killed her. Several thoughts jumped in his head, muddling his mind and his senses to the point that he couldn't tell them apart. But he felt shock—


He felt— He felt a certain pained loss that he had never felt before. This was his kiddo, dead on his bed... Tinier than Frisk had been and he had killed her.


Tinier than his kid had been when they had met and what was wrong with him, how could he have hurt them like that, how could—


Soft echoes of the faintest sobbing. Blood on his coat; his sins on his back. Another dead child. Was that why Frisk was crying? He was sorry. He didn't know why he had done it. He vaguely recalled enjoying it. But they— They could try again, couldn’t they?


They could have another one—


The sobs grew progressively more real as the dream faded and then the sound of shuffling roused him awake.


Darkness surrounded him. Sans was lying on his bed. And when he saw the faint outline of Frisk on the floor, quietly digging through the contents of her backpack, he felt the sudden impulse to rush to her and beg her to forgive him, but—


But then he noticed that the scent of blood wasn’t permeating the air.


He remembered that he and Frisk couldn’t have children.


And he felt a wave of relief along with a strange sense of loss. It had been a dream. He hadn’t killed—


He hadn’t had


He didn’t know why he still felt like mourning a child that never had been. And maybe it was just the fact that he and Frisk would never be able to have a normal life together.


It took him a long time to realize that Frisk really had been crying. And when she choked back another distinct sob, Sans froze into place in a way that he could only describe as cowardly.


She was miserable. It was more than likely his fault. And he wanted to be strong for her and go to her. He knew how much she depended on him. But sometimes…


Sometimes, he just couldn’t. He couldn’t deal with it.


He was so, so tired. So weak. And Frisk, despite her childish vulnerability, even if she didn’t know it, she was infinitely stronger than he was.


And she needed him, but often— Often, Sans selfishly felt that he needed her more and—


He felt like a coward, and a thief, as he froze; with the weight of his sins and his pain and his hopelessness on the kid’s delicate shoulders because he’d never told her… He’d never been selfless enough to tell her not to worry about him.


And because he hadn’t told her, he was sure that she sometimes felt she had to.


She could be so selfless and he just took


She stopped digging through her backpack for just a moment. As his eye sockets slowly adjusted to the darkness, he could begin to see more of what she was doing. He made out the outline of empty nice cream wrappers and dirty band-aids littering the floor next to her, and hah


Had she really kept all of that junk in her backpack up until now just so that she wouldn’t litter? She was so cute. This kid was really something else…


She was adorable. Such a sweet kid and he loved her.


He felt himself unable to move when he saw the expression she was wearing.


She was— She looked like she was definitely talking to someone.


The kid looked like she was currently in the middle of a rather animated discussion that only she could hear. She was deeply concentrated, her brows furrowed with the same stubborn determination that could in an instant cause him so much distress—


Was she Saving, or…?

the sudden urge to stop it (he suppressed it)

And she was probably just talking to Chara.


He was about to let Frisk know he was awake by calling her to him when Frisk started digging through her backpack again a little more insistently. She took out a t-shirt, seemed to inspect it… and then she angrily shoved it back into her backpack with more force than was probably necessary and—


"I know! I know that something’s different!" Her voice was barely above a frustrated whisper but he could tell from the anger behind it that this was Frisk’s way of yelling at Chara. "I already know, okay? Just let me think. Just let me—  Just shut up and let me think for one freaking second, Chara!"


There was a pause during which she kept digging through her backpack, taking the chance to discard more empty wrappers into the growing pile of trash and occasionally tugging at the front of her shirt collar like it was so tight that it was choking her. And then she spoke with an air of determined finality, "It has nothing to do with— Stop suggesting that. I’m not leaving him."


And just like that the empty cavity of his chest felt like it had been filled with a flash of cold water.


Him. They were talking about him, weren’t they?


Never before had he so badly wished he could hear what the not-Frisk was saying.


Frisk let out a muffled groan. She sounded completely exasperated. "I know he—" Another sigh. "He won't hurt us anymore. He'll stop. He— He stopped, earlier. He's just lonely, like we are. If I let him come with us, he'll—"


A brief pause and then her voice faltered. “I— I let him do that.


“He wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t been okay with it.


“I am okay with it,” she told Chara stubbornly. “I’m fine.” Stubborn and lying and—


She raised her voice as loud as she seemed to dare it. “I’m not lying to myself!” It sounded like a very angry whisper. “I am okay with it, he can do whatever he wants. I—”


There was another pause during which she quietly listened and then her anger melted into defeat on her face. "I... Yeah. I still love him," she whispered, and it sounded like a shameful admission, like that was something even she wasn’t ready to confess. Shame and pain were thick in her voice, and then she very softly admitted, "I can't stop loving him.”


An uncomfortable pause. "You know I've tried.”


And then her optimism returned with a forced determination. His kid started defending him, vouching for him, and kiddo


"He'll be better. I'll help him. It's not his fault, anyway— You know it's not, he wouldn't be this mad if I hadn't left him, and he only hurts me because of— He never killed me before you made us kill Papyrus. No, he never—”


sweetheart, i’m worse than you think i am—


"Those times don't count. Shut up. I told you to never talk about that and—”


why did it hurt so much to hear her defending him like that?


She buried her face behind her hands. "He was just trying to fix things. He regretted it. He said he was sorry—”


He felt like the heart he didn’t have was breaking.


"He was sorry. Shut up!” And then she started sobbing, just sadder and more vulnerable than ever.


She let out a strained "I can't leave again without him."


And then he'd heard enough.


That was far more than he could take. He couldn’t keep listening to his kid talking like that. And his soul weighed like a heavy bitterness in his chest, and—


He whispered a tentative, shy and anxious, "…frisk?"


Frisk jumped up, clearly startled, before tugging again at the front of her shirt. She looked scared for just a fraction of a second, before focusing her gaze at him with clear worry and—


His name left her lips, her soft voice making it sound almost heavenly, and he wanted...


He wanted to kiss her. 


He knew what would happen next, if he did.


(A kiss that would turn into two, and three, and lust, and pain, and guilt, and sex…Innocent kisses weren’t for them.)


He stopped himself from daring to even go near her.


And instead he slowly moved himself into a sitting position on his bed. His kid remained sitting on the floor. And maybe they were both frozen in place, and maybe neither of them dared to go near the other, but she still looked at him like…


Like she was tired and miserable and still somehow despite his many shortcomings she found it in herself to care and be worried about him.


He— He didn't deserve it. He'd never deserve her. 


He chose to try to at least... Be somewhat good.


Moved his hand to gently pat the empty space on the bed next to him. And he gently told her, voice soft with a worry of his own for her, "it's too early to be up, kiddo. come back to bed? i can help you go back to asleep, if you’re having nightmares.”


And he was thinking of the way he would gently stroke her hair and brush his fingertips across her face until she fell asleep with her head on his chest. But the way her face paled made him think... she might be thinking of something different.

the times they’d made out and he’d forced his hand

down her pants despite her protests to show her he could and made her

come and feel so dirty that she’d pretend to be asleep until she was

Shame and regret and—his voice was strained when he tried to assure her that “i… i won't try anything."


It sounded like a lie even to him when he said that.


He felt so dirty.


And she let out the breath he didn’t know she had been holding. Looked away from him, she didn't get up. And instead she asked him, "Did you hear me talking to Chara just now?”


It was a half-lie at best when he said "no". She knew him so well. His tone had a flatness to it that she had come to accurately interpret as i don’t want to talk about it.


(She'd sometimes used the same tone herself. Sans was such a bad example.)


She let out a tired groan and buried her face in her hands with a tired frustration. And then she curled herself up into a ball with her knees to her chest, and whispered “God. I’m so tired.”




“My soul feels heavy," she told him, causing him to pause as his magic threatened to flare up with anxiety. "Just... Just heavy and gross." It was a clear if unwitting rejection, making him shrink into himself with pain and with guilt.


Their souls weren't compatible.


His very essence, all that he was…


“I hate it," she whispered, and he wanted to die when she said it. She kept digging through the contents of her backpack after a short pause, but didn’t seem to really be paying attention to what she was doing anymore. “I just... It feels almost like… Chara thinks it’s another person. But how many souls like Chara can there be? And besides, this doesn’t feel like… This feels worse than how Chara felt”—her words stung—“Heavier…”—she paused—“Just… Just awful.”


"Like it wants to—to own me." (She blushed). "Or kill me. And hurt me. I can't... It’s a very bad feeling. I feel so sick."


She went quiet for a very long moment, as if she was trying to look within herself or was trying to identify just exactly what it was she felt. Her hands started shaking, her breaths became shallow. And then she casually said, almost as if she wasn’t even there right now, “I don't even know why I'm telling you this. It doesn’t matter.”


She was lying.

And “kid—”


She hid her face behind her hands again. “Could you just take me back? I feel so guilty for leaving Undyne alone back there.”


A flash of anxiety and a reminder that she was more than likely to die again, causing the world to RESET. He couldn’t help but try to persuade her to stay. “you’ve barely slept.”


She shrugged. “It’s nothing I’m not used to.”


“no… kiddo, undyne can wait. you need sleep. just come back to bed. i’ll take you straight to asgore in the morning if you want me to, just—”


Sans,” she told him, glaring at him with an air of stubborn annoyance. “You’re not my dad. Stop fussing over me.”


She might as well have slapped him.


It hurt him just the same and—and pissed him off—


really, kid?” he asked her, irritation of his own now thick in his voice. “you’re doing this now, after i’ve fucked you? you really think i care ‘cause i think you’re my fucking kid? i’m not ‘fussing over you’ because i want to, brat; i just don’t want another RESET.”


And then they both went very quiet, and he regretted what he’d said pretty much immediately.


The kid took several deep breaths. She fiddled with a zipper of her backpack and just stared at it. And he nervously muttered, “shit. sorry, kid, that came out wrong—”


Her voice was flat. “Whatever. I don’t care.”



“No… No.  Really. Just— Whatever. You wouldn’t be the first person who doesn’t give a shit about me. You just take what you want, right? Fine. Whatever. Just fine.”


“sweetheart,” he begged, scrambling away from the bed so he could sit beside her on the floor. “frisky, that isn’t true. i do care, i’m sorry—”

She tried to laugh but the sound came out wrong. “No you don’t. You freaking liar. You say you do, but you don’t. I can tell. And do you know how much that— Do you know how much that hurts?”—her voice broke—“I love you so much. So much it hurts. I’m in love with you, you jerk. I—”

And then she started sobbing with her face hidden behind her hands and she looked so ashamed and vulnerable and he—

He felt like complete shit.

He tried to hug her and she flinched away.

And he just couldn’t

please, kiddo,” he begged, miserable. “please don’t cry. i’ll take you to undyne. i’ll take you anywhere you want. i’m yours. my soul is yours. please, kid? sweetie? just tell me what you want. tell me what to do and i’ll do it.”

“Just forget it.” She sounded defeated. “I know you can’t— I know you try. You try so hard. I’m not angry, I just—”

She sighed. “Just take me back to Undyne. I still love you. I know you try... Just take me back. If Flowey finds out I came back here, he’s going to kill me.

Not literally,” she added quickly, just as soon as she saw how Sans tensed up. “He’d just be really upset. Sorry, just— Ugh.

“I am really, really tired. I can’t wait for all this to be over.”

He wasn’t sure what he could possibly say. He didn’t want her to go, and still he—

“i love you,” he told her.

“i could just… i could just take you straight to asgore. if you wanted.”

And the kid just shook her head. “I really want to meet everyone. I’ve never seen Waterfall until now. And everyone’s so nice, once I get to know them…”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her close.

you’re nice,” he told her, pressing his mouth to her neck over where he’d previously marked her. He planted a kiss there before inhaling her scent: vanilla and flowers and his faint magic. “you’re better. we’ve all tried to kill you, but you—”

He pressed another kiss and then another as he held her close to him and maybe he should stop

She remained so still as he held her that he had to stop himself from trying to see how far he could go with her. And instead, he whispered, “you’re an angel, sweetheart.”

He kissed the top of her head and gave up.

And then he held her close and took her small hand in his and took them both back to where he had found her.

Chapter Text

He brought her back to Waterfall. And she took him by surprise when he couldn't hold back and held her tightly and she moved up to kiss his cheekbone instead of fighting him.

This kid was really something else.

“I'll be fine,” she soothed him. Tried to comfort him in her soft, warm voice. “I'll be fine. Don't worry, Sans. Just trust me.”

She smelled of faint vanilla and felt like redemption and—

He really didn't want to let her go. “frisk...”

He didn't know quite what to say.

And the air felt more humid than ever in Waterfall. The dampness of the atmosphere was almost asphyxiating. How had he never noticed? He was willingly leaving his kid here. Leaving her to die. Again, and again, and again... For however long it took for her to give up. And she was just a kid, why couldn't she see it. She was just a kid, and Undyne was the head of Underground's Royal Guard.

His kid would never make it.

He knew it; maybe she did, too.

And he felt... dirty, agreeing to this. Giving her this, in exchange for her. He was letting her hurt herself, and it felt like betrayal.

“kiddo,” his arms off her waist and his hands holding hers and his pleading voice managed to choke out “be safe, alright?”

Panic and anxiety building up. He hoped that he meant it. He'd hurt her bad enough, but when it came to wanting Frisk—alive, happy and safe—he meant it.

(And he’d be good, when she went back to him, he wouldn’t… He’d try not to hurt her.

It couldn’t be that bad, being with him.)

“Yeah,” and she let go of him. It felt like a part of his soul had been torn away. A burst of anxious magic fluttered within his chest cavity. And he wondered if she felt it, with his magic treacherously wrapped around the kid's soul. How much could she tell was off? How much was she ignoring?

The kid frowned.

who could care, anyway. he could practically feel the upcoming RESET.

And she just—

The kid looked completely determined. “I just need to run faster this time,” she assured him, soft voice as warm and soothing as always and “Don’t worry. Really. I'm super determined. It’ll be fine. I—”

Something in her shifted. Her frown took on a certain hesitant. And when she looked at him again, she seemed to be searching for something—deep within herself.

“I love you,” she said with an air of finality. It sounded like a promise. And maybe that was that.

couldn't say it back. If she found out what he did, the words might sound like a lie. And so just— “just come back safe. alright, kiddo?”

“Yeah.” She took a red bandana from her pants pocket. Sans recognized it—it was the same one Papyrus had gifted her two Christmases ago. And when she tied it around her neck, She hid his bitemark.

She was...

such a good kid, wasn't she.

And when she told him “Wait for me, ok?” he had no choice but to do it.

Stuffed his hands deep in his pockets and one last reminder, “don't get hurt.”

He let her go.

The wait for her to come back felt like forever.

There came a point—and it felt like hours—when Waterfall felt like a prison. He stopped being so sure that he could stay behind anymore. The world hadn't RESET, but the kid was still out of sight. And it had probably only been minutes passing, but the timeline could end any moment. And when he'd first seen her, she had been closer to Hotland, hadn't she. Running just past his old sentry station...

It couldn't hurt, to simply teleport there, could it. He'd be good, he wasn't about to have the kid go through another forced RESET. And of course, if there was a way to kill Undyne without his kid finding out, he'd do it... (There was so, so much he would do, if he could only get away with it.)

But he couldn't seize any opportunities from where he was, could he?

He stepped into the familiar shortcut, and was instantly met with a less humid, more pleasant warmth. There was something about his old sentry station. It almost always lulled him to sleep.

What would Frisk think, if she saw him there?

He tried to feel her with his magic and could distinctly tell where she was from their connection, but when he tried to get a more palpable feel of her soul, he felt nothing.

Was she really bound to him or not? This wasn't at all like the old stories. She felt—more anxious, probably. Had told him Chara was having a fit. But wasn't she supposed to feel what he felt, or at least feel connected to him in some way...? He should have just used his soul on hers. But his soul was dirty, tainted... So undeserving of hers.

His magic would do. He had enough of it for the both of them.

And Frisk...

(He yawned. It really felt nice to be this close to Hotland.)

Frisk would accept him. She loved him. She had proven time and time again just how much she did.

There was a moment when he felt the kid almost freeze at one spot and he panicked. A faint ringing in his ear drums that got louder and louder—the beginning of a painful headache


He ducked and froze. And then he felt the kid just running in circles...

Ah. Undyne's green attack.


Well, his kid definitely reached the end of the timeline, there. As far as Sans could tell, he could make one of two choices, he could either

* INTERVENE and piss off Frisk, or * ACCEPT THE RESET and GO TO SLEEP


Nothing fucking mattered, really. Either way, the Anomaly would RESET. Nobody would fault him if he just went to sleep.

And so he did. Just fucking go to sleep, it was hopeless.

If he had any time to dream at all, he dreamt of Frisk.

And before long,


The kid was shrieking at him from just a few centimeters away, frustration ringing in her chiding voice as she shook her shoulder, glaring at him. Sans nearly jumped out of his bones. What the fuck—Frisk—

She stopped shaking him once his eye sockets opened up and he sat up, soul fluttering in his chest wildly as he looked at his surroundings. Had he been dreaming...? “Honestly, Sans, oh my god. You are the hardest person to wake up, I swear I've been trying for like literally half an hour.”

“frisk? ...what?”—his voice was hoarse from confusion and tiredness both—“did i miss the RESET?”

She couldn't help but look a little insulted. "There's been no Reset."

He fully woke up at that, the fear and anxiety he'd once felt for her coming back at full force. Quickly got up to inspect his kiddo, his non-existent stomach twisting with worry. She'd been attacked by Undyne—his kid

If one of her limbs had been cut off, he would have been angry but not entirely surprised. But instead Frisk's skin was just covered in sweat. It dampenedher shirt. He forced himself not to stare at her chest. There was a little blood and a few scratches and little cuts, nothing too bad—nothing fatal—

(Fucking hypocrite that he was— he'd done much worse, countless of times.)

And her face was still red and she looked frankly tired and he assumed, correctly, that she'd decided again to run from Undyne. It'd been a stupid decision. But she was safe.

And if she was still running, that meant—his hopes went up—and “kid, if you need me to take you back home—”

She shook her head, stubborn as always. Pushed something cool into his hand. He looked down at it: a cup of water? “Undyne let me go,” Frisk told him. And he just stared at the cup.

Maybe he was dreaming.

“you didn't fight.” It was obvious she hadn't. He felt stupid confirming it.

“Of course not,” she told him. “I'd never fight any of you.” She was entirely sincere.

And the memory of Frisk, broken and under him, crying for him to stop and begging him and yet not fighting back even once.

A thick sludge of guilt slopped inside his chest.

He tried to push guilty feelings away. (That was then; this was now. He'd be good. He'd do better.) And so just "but then... kiddo, how...?"

Frisk just shrugged. "I couldn't befriend Undyne," she told him, looking down and for all the world as if she'd failed him, somehow, despite staying alive and coming back to him. "She doesn't... I don't think she likes me very much, and I was too busy running and couldn't exactly try to talk. But I did prove that I didn't mean harm to anyone, and I think I sort of helped her back there when she fell down and— I really don't think she'll attack me again. I was hoping... I sort of wanted things to end differently, but maybe surviving was the best I could do."

“that was the one thing i wanted you to do,” he told her. He moved to set aside the cup— “sweetheart, you did so good—”

The kid shook her head, pushed the cup back to him. “Um. Actually, drink that.”

He raised a browbone. “what are you, poisoning me?”

“No!!!” Frisk's cheeks turned a deeper red. “I just—! I noticed, after helping Undyne... I don't think I've ever seen you drink anything other than ketchup. So I wondered... Maybe you're not lazy, Sans. Maybe you're just... dehydrated...”

Maybe he was just dehydrated.

It took him a full five seconds to decide if he should feel more love toward this kid or just start laughing. To think of that, after all she'd done... His Frisk could be so sweet. And in the end, he just leaned in and pulled Frisk into a hug, setting aside the water so he could—

frisk. you're so cute.” A kiss to her neck, pushing aside her bandana. “sweetie, don't worry about me.”

She tried to push him off like she was about to say something,

then gave out a little shriek when he drew his tongue out to lick her neck.

She moved away her face away and wriggled against him in a way that felt so good and “Stop it.”

“you want me to stop?” He forced her closer to him, nipped her neck. “don't you like this?” She could. He'd show her—

And when he moved a hand to her waist and summoned up a trail of magic the kid let out the sweetest, softest moan and—

Please stop.” She was crying. She sounded terrified. "Please stop, please, it makes me feel so bad—"

He felt suddenly sick with himself, hearing her like that. Nausea and bile and a dread like lead. Filth. Guilt. Slime.

She sounded like a crying child.

He forced himself to take his mouth and hands off of her.


"sorry," he muttered, feeling equal parts guilty and horny and disgusted with himself when the kid pushed away and hugged herself and tugged at the front of her chest so anxiously that he wished they were once again miles apart. "sorry, kiddo. i didn't mean that; that's not what i want. i just want— sweetheart,” he pleaded, “i love you."

"I know." She sounded far away, like she'd barely held him. Kept nervously pulling at her shirt collar, right over where her soul would be. "I'm... I'm sorry."

“frisk—” He put his hands on her shoulders. The kid flinched. He took them away. And

It stung. This wasn't going at all like he had once hoped it would.

“Sorry, sorry,” the kid was slowly panicking. He couldn't touch her. Couldn't get near her. And all he could do was

“kiddo, shhhh,” he tried to soothe her. To talk her down from whatever this was. “calm down, frisky.” She sobbed at that and he winced—“shhh, i won't hurt you—kid, i promise—

please don't cry. that's not what i want. kiddo, please don't cry. please. you're safe. i won't hurt you. i won't—”

How many times had he said that before?

Would she ever even believe it?

He tried to hold her one more time and made it worse. The kid started just bawling. And in the end, it was all he could do to just helplessly wait as his kid cried out.

He felt like shit. He'd made everything worse. And his kid was miserable, was crying and panicking—because of him.

The phone rang in her pocket eventually. He wondered if he should try to summon it out with magic, but in the end it just went to voice mail.

The kid's little sobs died out after what felt like a painstakingly long time.

And in the end she just ended up burying her face against his coat like always. He panicked, not wanting to screw things up. He'd keep his hands in his pocket, but—


“sweetheart,” he whispered. “i love you so much. can i please, please hug you?” He was so worried. He loved her. He felt so helpless.

And when she nodded against his coat and he wrapped his arms around her finally and—

“Sorry,” she told him. “I'm so stupid—”

“don't say that,” he cut her off, chiding her gently as he stroked her hair, pulling her close. “you're amazing, frisk.”

“No I'm not,” she argued back, frustrated, voice faintly muffled by his coat. “There's something wrong with me.”

“shh, hey,” he pulled her off so he could look at her. She'd gotten so tall over the years—at full height, she was almost as tall as him now and—

She was still so, so pretty. Her eyes were so bright. And there was something about her that just exuded kindness, and MERCY, and warmth. “you're perfect.”

And her cheeks turned red and she looked away and maybe she just didn't want to believe him, how beautiful she was.

“tell you what,” he offered. “i know you like the 'lake'. there's a river nearby; if you want, we could go sit by it.”

The kid shook her head. “I can't. Sans, I'm really tired. I can't sit down, I'd fall asleep. And I... I kind of have to call Papyrus back.”

He raised a brow bone. “Papyrus?”

“I'm assuming Papyrus,” she said, taking out her phone. “He called me a few times when I was running from Undyne. At first, in a different timeline—I sort of remember I thought it was you, so I tried to pick up... And, uh, died. But I remember it was Papyrus calling.

“I had to let it go to voicemail this time but I feel so bad about it,” she confessed. “You know how Papyrus gets. He probably wants to know where you are.”

“he doesn't know i'm here,” he told the kid. And the worry he'd been feeling for Frisk began to turn into anxious worry for Papyrus.

The kid gave him a puzzled look, but dropped it. Called up Papyrus on the phone. And she didn't try to leave, he could hear the phone ringing as she called. Frisk was such a quiet, collected kid— but she rarely if ever hid things from him.

Something weird within him fluttered—either affection, or trust, or guilt.

He hid so many things from this kid.

When Papyrus picked up, his voice was so loud Sans could clearly hear it. His bro sounded relieved and happy all at once. "HUMAN!!! I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOUR CALL!"

Frisk gave a shy smile that only Sans could see and, "Hi, Papyrus."


The kid chuckled at that, sending a wave of affection and approval purring in his chest. She could be so kind to Papyrus. He loved her for it, was one of the things he'd originally liked the most about her...

His brother was so cool. He deserved a friend like Frisk.

"Yeah, I'm fine. How have you been? How are things in Snowdin?"

A pause.

And the tone in Papyrus' voice turned drastically different. "THINGS ARE... WELL. I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE BEEN HANDLING THINGS SPLENDIDLY. BUT HUMAN... I HAVE BEEN THINKING.” It was the same tone of voice Paps took when he'd asked Sans if things were okay.


"You mean Undyne?" Frisk asked, puzzled. "Um... Well, to be honest, Papyrus..."


There was a moment, when the kid's smile fell from her face, where a different kind of guilt poured into his chest, grounding Sans to the dirt as his kid looked at him with a dawning understanding.

"Sans... misses me?"

"HE HASN'T LEFT HIS ROOM SINCE YOU LEFT," Papyrus told her, sounding distraught and miserable and, knowing him, completely crushed having to resort to ask for help. "HE HAS BECOME EVEN LAZIER THAN USUAL. I HAVE TRIED SPEAKING TO HIM, BUT HE NEVER ANSWERS ANYMORE AND—AND I THINK HE'S AVOIDING ME...”


Frisk just held the phone to her ear, her hand slightly trembling. There was a mix of different, unidentifiable emotions flashing through her face before her expression turned completely blank, dejected.

She looked for a moment as if she was about ready to give up.

And when she stole a glance at him and their eyes met, she looked—so disappointed in him. It made him feel like dirt.

The kid took a deep breath. Closed her eyes, gathered determination. And then she spoke, her voice was as light as always. The kid forced out a laugh. And, "...Oh. Wow. I can't believe he actually followed through with that."

And her voice was light and her tone was joking but she looked completely hopeless and her phone was shaking.


"Sans isn't avoiding you, Papyrus," Frisk said with a gentle, friendly tone. "He's probably been sleeping. You know how he is."

Silence on the other end and then an indignant, "...SLEEPING!?"

"Yeah... I'm so sorry, Papyrus, I should have warned you. Before I left... Sans and I went on this really long hike. Hours and hours." She was lying. They'd never been on more than an hour-long hike, and the kid was lying for him. "He spent half the time joking that he'd be so tired afterwards, he'd probably sleep for weeks. I guess... I guess he wasn't joking. I never thought he was telling the truth."

Another silence on the Pap's end of the phone.

"You... You really were right, Papyrus. Um. I guess Sans really is a huge lazybones."

The frustrated screech that came from Papyrus at that was furious indignation. "SANS HAS BEEN SLEEPING THIS ENTIRE TIME!?" Sans could practically see his brother's face and googly eyes as Paps exploded.

"It was my fault!" Frisk was quick to say, excusing him, taking the blame...

As she usually did, he realized.

He was letting this kid take on far more responsibility than he ever should.

"I shouldn't have insisted on such a long hike,” Frisk said, trying to assuage Papyrus. “Sans just wanted to make me happy, Papyrus... And I tired him out. I am so sorry."





And he hung up.

The kid stared at the phone for a while.

And then, very slowly, she put her phone in her pocket. She took out a mirror. Fixed her hair, cleaned her face. Adjusted her bandana.

"frisk? you're not really going..."

"I thought I'd left you with Papyrus," she told him. And her voice was still soft and gentle but there was an undercurrent of quiet fury that almost made him stand back.

Sans flinched. "i..."

"I thought you'd keep looking after him." She sounded disappointed. "But instead you locked yourself in your room and left Papyrus alone, with Flowey?"

And the only reason he'd done what he had done now sounded like a lame excuse. "i thought the timeline was going to RESET."

"So you thought I'd die." She was furious, now. "And stopped caring about your brother. Literally the only thing that still makes you a good person"—he flinched—"Sans, you're so..."

She angrily shoved her mirror back into her backpack and took out the first aid kit Papyrus had found in the dumpster and given to her three months ago. "You're such a selfish asshole."

He'd rarely seen her so pissed off at him.

"frisky... don't get upset." He sounded as pathetic as he felt.

The kid took out a few disinfecting wipes. Started cleaning up her nastier cuts, doing whateger it was humans did to prevent their bodies from getting infected. She was running low on a few things, he noticed... Sans didn't know how to get more. And that was another thought to pile up to the mountain of growing anxieties...

That, along with her hating him.

When the kid sat down to inspect her legs, he knelt down with her. He shyly offered, "let me help."

“I can take care of myself,” she stubbornly snapped at him, and it was obvious that she was trying to hold back on another fight.

He ignored her and took the wipe away from her, pushing away her hand by the wrist. "you missed a cut just underneath your ear,” he told her, going after it. “d'you feel that?"

"It burns all over," Frisk told him, making him wince. "Undyne is kind of ruthless."

“she might not stop,” he told her gently, wiping away as much of her drying blood as he could before picking up a fresh wipe. The coppery scent was familiar. It made his nonexistent stomach twist. He regretted having done something like this to her.

And, sickeningly enough, also kind of missed it.

“you could get really hurt out here. kid, papyrus wants you back, why can't you just—”

She cut him off with a nasty remark and, “She's not worse than you."


She was right. But that didn't make it sting any less.

It hurt.

"frisk... don't.” He pleaded. “you know i love you."

The Anomaly gave the smallest of shrugs. She looked completely indifferent. And tired, and lonely,

She was such a lonely, sad little child.

After he was done, Sans moved a hand to brush her cheek with his thumb. "i do love you,” he told her. And she might believe him, some day.

“I know,” she told him. “I know you mean it.” The kid looked dejected. And she sounded very sad and very honest when she told him “But sometimes I feel like you really, really can't.”

He choked down a rising panic. Choked down desperation, possessiveness, the desperate need to prove her wrong with force—

His magic was wound tightly around her soul. And who cared if she didn't believe him, for now, or think that she could ever be happy with him.

He'd prove her wrong. “i'll take you to undyne's house,” he told her.

He'd show her. “i know a good shortcut,” he forced a smug wink.

And he had all the time in the world, now. Hopefully. The kid was his.

And he took her small hand in his and he started to actually get excited at the idea of seeing her face light up as he started guiding her to the river. “you'll love this particular one.

“trust me.”


Chapter Text

The River Person was pretty predictable as far as monsters went, and Sans' old sentry station wasn't too far from where they were likeliest to be. It would be a half an hour walk, tops, and the reward was too tempting— He knew Frisk loved exploring, and so


He was so sure the kid would love this shortcut. She'd loved the Temmie village, loved visiting Hotland with him last year—


He was so sure he knew what he was doing, and was surprised when she didn't budge at all, when he tried to lead her.


frisk.” He gave her a short, sharp tug in his direction but the kid didn't budge. Anxiety began to pool in the pit of his hollow rib cage. He had a very specific plan in mind for making up with the kid. He'd take her to Undyne's, through the river— Show her around, like old times, make her smile yet—


“kiddo... trust me, you'll like this shortcut.” He sounded stupid, begging her to go along with him, but the kid wasn't moving. Sans wasn't quite sure what to do. Frisk had always been such a docile, malleable child. And yet—


“I just... I'd rather— Um.” There was a slight frown on her face. She very gently pushed him away. He couldn't help but wonder if she had been expecting him to fight back. And she seemed to be working very hard at finding the right words to say. “I don't want a shortcut.” A stab to his chest.


“It's not that I don't love you,” she added quickly, almost too quickly, and he had to wonder just what it was she was reading from the expression in his face. “I really love you. I love you so much.




She hesitated.


There was a brief, fleeting window where it would have been easy, so easy, to just ignore the kid and what she wanted. His grip on her hand tightened, but then his pupils met hers.


She looked so tired, defeated and miserable. A tiny spark of almost pity flickered within his chest. And he couldn't do it. He couldn't just drag her to where he wanted. She'd hate it.


He'd already dragged her through worse.


Sans shoved his hands in his pockets, away from the kid. He made himself nudge her, like he'd done so many times before. “but...? sweetie, you can tell me. you know i won't be mad. promise, sweetheart.”


“I don't want a shortcut,” she admitted softly. He had to strain his eardrums to hear it. And she looked almost embarrassed, staring at the ground. She opened her mouth again before closing it, thinking twice about elaborating. It was such a subtle gesture but Sans noticed.


It wasn't the shortcut, what the kid was dreading. It was his magic.


“kiddo...” He sighed. Kept his fists wedged deep into his pockets, shoulders forcefully relaxed and unthreatening despite the knot forming in his throat. “sweetie, i'm not gonna hurt you.”


That sounded like a lie even to him and he winced.


Frisk didn't notice. She kept her attention on the ground and shook her head. “It's not that. Um. I just don't—”


“it's not a shortcut like we usually take a shortcut, if it helps,” he offered. “it's more like a— more of a detour, kiddo. compared to my usual shortcuts. i won't even use magic. we'll just walk a few minutes, then take a right.” Then he added, with a hint of worry, “getting to undyne's takes longer if we walk the entire way back. you look tired, kid.”


“I'm fine,” the kid insisted. Determined and stubborn.


Sans took a deep breath—and tried not to roll his pupils. This kid...fine. you're 'fine'. do it for me, then. we're friends, right?”


“I don't want—”


“walking all the way back to undyne's place would take hours,” Sans insisted. “c'mon. any other way'd just be inefficient—”


“you're just saying that because you don't want to walk,” Frisk pointed out, and she was kind of right. Glared at him judgmentally, slight frown on her face. “you're a lazybones.”


“that's right,” Sans agreed out of habit. He'd heard the same argument from Papyrus... Frisk had probably gotten that argument from Papyrus. If he wasn't getting so damn frustrated, he might even find the whole thing hilarious. “so do this for me, kiddo.”


Frisk looked about to pull her hand away when Sans tightened his grip slightly. He didn't know what else to do. “i promise no magic.”


“But then how—”


“just trust me,” he began to insist. Then he realized how ridiculous and unrealistic that request sounded, and something in him deflated a little.


He tried again, voice softer. “there's a monster close to here who likes to hang out on their boat. they're always kinda lonely... jump at the chance of passengers. i thought you might like going back to waterfall that route... thought i'd give you a surprise.”


He sounded pathetic. He tried again, promising, “we won't be alone, frisk.”


The kid stayed quiet, staring at the ground. Sans didn't know if she was thinking, listening to Chara or both—

He waited until she was done with whichever, staring at the wooden bridge ahead. Kid must have crossed it twice to bring him the water Sans didn't drink. He felt a swift stab of guilt, imagining her having to cross the bridge by herself. His kiddo had loved Hotland when he'd taken her last year— But it felt different, somehow, to imagine her running by herself over the magma to him, holding—


three bottles of ketchup


He had to stop thinking of Frisk and their first time in Hotland.


The kid let out a tired breath. She shifted her weight next to him, thinking. “I hate fighting with you,” she finally muttered, with a finality that made him think that might be all she had to say.


“let me make it up to you,” he offered, reaching out once again to run his thumb against the back of her hand. “i'll take you to undyne—”


“Want to do something for me?”


The question took him by surprise. “of course. anything, kiddo.”


“You need to talk to Papyrus.”




“I mean it,” Frisk told him, frowning at him rather stubbornly. “Sans, you left him alone with Flowey. I've been alone with Flowey. It's— He's not evil. I know he's just mean because he's lonely. And... Deep down, he's really not that bad... But... It's still... It's not easy, when Flowey's the only one you talk to all the time,” there was something about her expression, the way she carried herself, that made Sans believe it.And you left Papyrus—


you left me,” Sans reminded her, and he couldn't help the thick coat of resentment that carried over in his tone. Frisk shook her head and was about to say something, but Sans cut her off. “i just got you back. kiddo, i'll— i shouldn't have neglected paps, you're right. i'll make things right with him—”


“You don't have to do anything out of the ordinary,” Frisk pointed out. “Just pay attention to him! You always did.”


“right,” Sans told her. “you're right. i will, when we get back home—”




i just got you back,” he repeated, and maybe Frisk just wasn't quite getting how important she was to him. “sweetheart, i missed you so much. gimme a chance to focus on you first.


“you've been all alone, too.”


She didn't seem at all happy with his answer. Frowned at him instead, looking mildly insulted. The kid seemed determined to say something, yet trying to hold back all at once. And in the end, she ended up whispering, “You have no idea how lonely Papyrus can feel.”


There was something to the way she said that. It made Sans feel very small.


I can be alone,” Frisk pointed out, standing up just a little taller and looking as strong and as confident as she possibly could. But the kid was all of fourteen, and she looked like it. She wasn't even as tall as he was. There was exhaustion on her face, cuts and little scratches on her skin and dirtied clothes and—


He knew that she was strong, for a kid— but right now the strength she was trying to portray seemed more like an act, and entirely unconvincing.


“I'm totally fine by myself. I've been alone since way before you met me.”


“sweetie, you don't have to be.”


She held up her palm and “Let me finish. Sans, I know you... Ugh.” She briefly glared at nothing in particular. It made him think perhaps she was struggling with a different conversation in her head. And in the end, she brought her hand to her face and through her hair, exasperated. “You take care of, um. The people you like, to feel useful. And I know you want to be... Like— Not a... Not a dad, but—”


Cringe. They were approaching cringe territory, there. Change the topic. Change the topic.


She took one look at him and quickly shook her head, palms raised up toward him as if to appease him right away. “Not that. But how you're with Papyrus. With me. Ugh. Words. But you're not— You don't... Um. You're so nice to me, often. I realize that. And I appreciate it. It makes me feel, um. Like you love me. Really love me. It's probably the main reason I love you so much, because you—”


She shook her head again almost nervously and bit her lip. Looked down at the ground. Started fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, before moving her hands up to focus on pulling at her shirt, right over her chest, where her soul was. “You've been so nice since we met. You've always— Sometimes you can't be, but you've been generally kind to me. You make me feel loved. And I love that about you, and I love you so much for it. But I'm used to— Before I met you, when it was just me and Mom and... Just me and Mom, really. I know Dad didn't care. I just felt like... I know what it's like to not feel loved like that. So if you stopped... If you stopped caring about me, honestly. That would be it for me. But at least— Y'know. It wouldn't be something new. And honestly, with the Resets and all... and the kind of stuff I've let Chara do... I know I'd kind of deserve