You blinked, taking in the image of the creature, mouth stretched in a lazy grin. A stark white skull along with glowing pupils ( that you didn’t notice seemed to rip your soul apart thread by thread and gaze into your deepest secrets) and a disarming aura.
“Did you….did you just prank me??”
You were too busy staring at the place where a bony hand was wrapped around yours to notice the slight blue burst of colour that flickered to life in one of those dead black eye sockets. Sans’ grin never let up for a second as he observed you. It had been too long. Way too long since a human other than Frisk had fallen under.
His gaze was almost predatory. Was Toriel still alive? Which timeline was this? His eyes glanced to the side to look at the short brunette beside you, their hands digging into your shirt. Frisk had on a black sweater - something Sans was quick to realize.
After all he had the kid’s every characteristic memorized by this point.
From their big, brown doe eyes (that flickered red) to their wardrobe, that cute striped long sleeved shirt (sometimes clean as a whistle, sometimes splattered with the white dust of monsters’ souls or even dripping with foul smelling crimson as Sans ripped his bone from their chest -) that hugged their tiny arms. Sans looked back at you, your bare shoulders. You had given the kid the jacket huh?
Frisk stayed silent, but always knowing.
An involuntary laugh, your body shaking.
“Whoopie cushion! And here I thought you were trying to kill me!”
You were always one for jokes.
Your eyes glanced up to his only to meet friendly orbs, any intensity utterly gone. An innocent grin spread across your lips.
“You have got to teach me how to do that so flawlessly one day!”
Sans’ hand slipped back into his pocket, eyes gleaming in the friendly grin he had been keeping up for so long it seemed stuck to his face.
Two hotdogs on your head now.
A raise of your eyebrow and yet a sly smile.
“hmm, seriously? another one?”
Three more. Five more. Six more. The muscles in your neck tensing as you tried to keep your head as straight as possible. Frisk buying nice cream in the corner of your eye - probably wasting their share of the money.
“now i’m not judging, but i think that’s enough dogs. plus do you really think my arm can reach that high?”
A teasing glint in your eyes. A challenge spoken from numbed, bitten lips. The shock on your face when the hotdogs fell into the snow from your slight movement and the pout that molded your mouth.
Sans saw it all.
His hand twitched in his pocket. You were nice. Maybe too nice? He couldn’t tell. He could honestly no longer tell anymore. His judgement was stepped on, torn apart, ripped to pieces since that day Frisk decided to go on a killing spree that splattered blood across every corner of the underground. But you. You. You were something different. Even more different than the humans that had been before - the ones before the never ending time loop. You were something special, Sans could just tell. And he always could trust his gut feelings. He wanted to trust you.
“Sans, you ok?”
Your eyebrows furrowing together in concern. His comforting grin that weirdly had your heart warming.
“of course I am. why wouldn’t I be, kid?”
“I said to stop calling me that! And I don’t know..” A bashful scratch of your nail under your cheek as you bit the inside of your mouth. “You just looked off… I’m worried.”
He wanted to, so badly.
Instead, a lazy grin, mask repairing the cracks you had almost glimpsed past.
“why hello worried, i’m Sans.”
Your gaping mouth then crystal laughter, completely innocent in its nature.
“Oh my god!”
An amused grin as you watched Frisk engage their “date” with Papyrus.
Sans’ hum, grin never disappearing.
“think they make a great couple?”
“Oh yeah. Tibia honest, they are awesome for each other.”
Sans eyes dilating, head turning to you in shock at your response. Your radiant smile, performing an exaggerated version of his normal wink. No one…no one had ever…Sans broke down into peals of laughter. His hand came up to cover his face. Your confused and comically annoyed expression.
“What?? It was good!”
A blue tint spreading across his face, body racked with laughter - genuine laughter. Something he hadn’t experienced in a long time. You crossed your arms and performed your famous pout. He just continued letting out that husky sound of joy, world spinning.
It really was dangerous being around you it seemed. Sans strangely didn’t even notice his barriers weakening and his mask cracking.
You grinned and let a ball of snow let loose from your hand to splatter on his jacket.
“I miss em you know.”
His back to yours, the two of you laying side by side. The glittering stones in the cave ceiling bathing the two of you in a surreal glow. Everything was so calm.
How did Sans even get here?
More importantly, why didn’t he care?
Your tone was flat, weighed down by a deep melancholy Sans had never heard in your voice before. You were usually so bubbly, so lively. Had you really been holding all that emotion inside you from the start? Maybe the two of you were more similar than he thought: you both kept way too much bottled inside.
Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes. This had Sans positively reeling. He had definitely never seen you do that before. And he didn’t need to. There was only one thing he knew.
He didn’t want to see that expression on your face ever again.
Before he knew it he was turning, keeping an elbow nooked beneath him to hold himself up as he looked at you.
“hey kid, that look doesn’t fit your face. you and frisk are gonna make it home, aren’t you?”
A cool brush of bone against your cheek. You blinked. The tear that had escaped wiped away.
“Of course we will. I’m…I….I’m not giving up not yet!”
Sans could practically taste the determination that was rolling off you in waves.
His low chuckle. “good.”
Your teeth sinking into the flesh of your full bottom lip. Your eyes shifting away.
“I’ll miss you Sans.”
Sans felt his nonexistent heart stop for a split second before he coolly brushed it off.
“of course you will. you’ll miss my puntabulousjokes-”
“No, Sans! I’m serious!” This time it was you who turned to face him, determination shining in your eyes. “I…you…I really…towards you….”
You groaned, hands coming up to cover your face. “Why is this so hard?”
Sans kept his intense stare on your face. “y/n. you…”
You were burning up. A hand reached out to grab onto an azure sweater. You pulled his collar, pulling him to your flushed, embarrassed, yet determined face. You shut your eyes. “I really really like…no love you!”
Sans was sure the inflated pressure of emotions that were filling his bones had never been there before.
“y/n…what are talking about? why would you love me?” Sans wanted to run. So far away. Away from this new emotion that was consuming him in a burning fire. Him? He was literally the definition of scarred. He had too many bruises, mental and physical. He had blood on his hands, so much blood that sometimes he could see it dripping and dripping just as wetly as the screams that echoed behind his ears each night. He was a monster. And the worst thing was, he didn’t care. He would kill and kill and kill and kill and kill and kill and killkillkill again and again and again if it meant that Papyrus was safe - if it meant something that was held dear to him remained intact. “y
i’m broken. a broken mess.”
You stared for a bit, the light from the stones reflecting in your eyes, your hand warm where it brushed his face.
“Well all broken things have a chance to get fixed don’t they?” Your imperfect teeth flashed as your lips pulled upwards. And Sans saw the sun for the first time. The sun in this dark, damp, cursed life under the suffocating ground. “And personally, I think you’re rather beautiful.”
A kiss pressed to his temple.
His defenses simply crumbled under your touch.
The corpse of a monster dropped into the snow. Your eyes widened, a choked sob emitting your mouth as you stared at Frisk. Frisk. The little child who befriended you as you entered this strange world, the one you woke up beside in a golden bed of soft flowers. The one who didn’t talk much, but gave their heart in their actions. The one you gave your jacket to though you got frostbite from the snow, the one that gave you Nice Cream and -
The one that was gone. The red eyed thing staring at you now was not Frisk. It was a monster.
A giggle resounded the air.
“Why hello Y/N~. I didn’t know you’d be back from your little escapade with Sans so soon. So sorry you had to see that.”
“Who are you? What have you done with Frisk?!”
A knife glinting silver, almost completely clouded in white dust and stained red.
“I’m tired of acting, Y/N. So, sooo tired.” A maniacal grin. “You just wouldn’t get it. So instead of trying to work to that thick skull of yours, lets skip to the real fun shall we?”
You shook. Fear gripped your muscles but the image of a shy grin and blue blush suddenly flashed cross your mind, snapping you back to reality. You gritted your teeth. There was no way you were going down now.
Chara only licked her lips, grin stretching so wide it was painful to watch.
You threw off your bag, spreading your feet, adrenaline picking up as you readied your stance.
The thought of a loved one filled you with determination.
And you entered the fight.
“She called for you at the end you know. Funny huh?”
Sans stared horrified at your mutilated body, red staining any skin available, your face almost unrecognizable. His pupils shook, his entire world halting.
Chara flung the body to the side from where they had been holding it by the collar. A satisfied smirk made its way onto their face.
A yellow hallway. The only thing between Asgore and Chara being him. It really still ended up here. He had hoped, he had just dreamed just for a second that it would change.
Sans let out a shaky breath, the image of the bloody carnage burning itself into the back of his eyes even as he closed them.
“Did you just prank me?”
“It’s not human or kid. Y\N, Sans.”
“Sans, look at this!”
“Sans, that was a horrible pun. And this is coming from a pun lover.”
“Waterdogs? The hell?”
“Sans, where’s Papyrus?”
“Sans….I really really like you.”
“Hey Sans, do you…love me?”
“Really?! I-I-I…oh shut up!”
Sans let your image fade before his eyes shot open. When they did, there was no sign of pupils to be found. His black sockets complimented the grin that never faded and never would. Something cracked. Something that had stayed strong, had been built up and remained a stronghold for him throughout everything shattered, falling at his feet.
Sans laughed, turning towards Chara.
They froze. Chara felt themself stiffen, fear suddenly burning hot through their blood. Sans laughed, completely gone. He was lost now. Autopilot kicked in, a blazing blue fire enveloping his left eye.
“hey kid, you already know what i’m going to say. lets just get to business shall we?” He was failing, the practiced dialouge that he had uttered dozens, hundredsof times before suddenly irrelevant.
“seems I didn’t get the point across to you last time either. you just crushed someone very important to me. you really should be burning in hell.”
In the blink of an eye Sans was no longer across the room but now right in Chara’s face, grin curled high and pupils thin and piercing, almost unseen.
“this time i’ll be putting you there myself.”
[And everything reset again, Chara’s body mangled and disfigured, every single bone methodically broken and every drop of their blood drained and splattered on the walls with precision.]
The sound of the whoopie cushion deflating had you gaping.
Sans’ bony hand loosened but was still wrapped around yours.
Sans grinned. (“Did you just prank me?”)
You raised your eyebrows. “Did you just prank me?”
Frisk merely smiled.
“Whoopie cushion!” You continued. Angelic laughter left your chest. “And here I thought you were trying to kill m- Hey…!!”
His hand had tightened slowly around yours but eventually got to the point where it hurt. You let go off his hand quickly as if it was burning, cautious of the - possibly dangerous - stranger and took a step back.
You pursed your lips, shifting Frisk closer to you out of instinct, just in case this guy did anything.
“Hey…what was that? You ok?” His presence sort of itched at you, intimidated you. Yet still, your curious nature shone through the skepticism of this odd stranger.
“Who are you?”
Sans shoved his hands into his pockets. His eyes closed, smile widening.
Okay, this idea has been rattling around in my head for the past few days and it’s not going away, so I have to share it. This is a headcanon/fic idea/idle musings, you name it.
An ABO AU with secretly Omega!Percival Graves. A very ambitious and talented omega!Percival Graves, who wanted to advance his career and social position despite the prejudices of the society he lived in. So he hid his secret by taking suppressors and using charms and spraying himself with fake scent and living a very celibate life and nobody ever found out. Until Grindelwald kindapped him, that is, and dug into his mind.
Imagine big, virile alpha Grindelwald having to spend a year dealing with the unfamiliar (on a personal level) physiology of an omega while impersonating Percival while having to keep the same damn secret because “Percival” is too busy with looking the child from his vision to have to deal with the ensuing scandal should people cotton on what he is. Much hilarity ensues. Grindelwald deserves the awkward situations anyway.
Back to Percival - Grindelwald is exposed, arrested, yaddayadda, Percival is discovered barely alive in whatever deep dark hole Grindelwald was keeping him in. He’s brought to a hospital, where, of course, his secret comes out, which in turn just adds to the trauma he’s already suffered because magical society doesn’t really seem big on patient privacy and the like. The president and other high ranking aurors certainly find out and openly blame his “weakness” (since he did get kidnapped and impersonated by Grindelwald) on the fact that he’s an omega (and not on the fact that he was facing an immesurably powerful wizard) because prejudice. He’s quietly fired at best or publically excoriated at worst, losing all that he’s worked for all his life to achieve, likely dealing with severe bouts of PTSD and having little to no support system both because he lives in a time where mental health help is all but lacking and there’s very little understanding of ptsd and because he’s lost what few friends he had after his own secret was exposed in the most callous manner possible.
Enter alpha!Credence whose phenotype manifested after he realized what a dumpster fire Grindelgraves was, together with losing control over the Obscuris. Obviously he survived getting blasted by the president’s aurors and spent the time during which Percival was physically recuperating in the hospital literally putting himself back together and hiding in NY (quite successfully too) because everyone thought him dead and no one looked for him. This Credence, however, is just done. He’s done. He’s spent a lifetime being abused and used and manipulated, including by a monster who he thought cared about him. He has real power now, power that he can control, as well as a lot of rage. He also realizes that he’s physiologically different from before but doesn’t pay much attention to it because he’s too busy trying to survive and to deal with his power and hide and learn more about wizards by following them around (in black mist form).
One foggy evening he sees the real Graves sitting on a bench in the park, looking utterly lost and dejected, in rumpled clothes and messy hair, unshaven, with dark circles under his eyes. His first instinct is to KILLKILLKILL before he remembers that the man who used and manipulated him only wore this man’s face but wasn’t actually him. He follows the man for a while before he decides to approach him in person.
And I am stopping here because I haven’t thought the rest of it through in detail. EDIT: I came up with a few more details.
I only know that I want:
-Two broken people to find each other and heal together. Somehow.
-They most definitely leave NY because neither has a reason to stay there.
-Credence finding himself - as a wizard, as an alpha, as a person who is NO LONGER under an abuser’s thumb, neither physically nor emotionally. He finds out what he likes, what and who he wants to be. He comes into himself, so to speak. And the end result is a powerful, talented young man.
-Percival heals. He learns to trust again. He learns to indulge himself as an omega, because in a way he too spent a life time being totally repressed, even if the repression was self-imposed because he wanted to fit societal standards, rather than because he was trying to avoid active physical abuse. It was repression nonetheless.
-They fall in love. More importantly, they become friends. Graves is not Grindelwald - he lacks that smooth, warm charm that Grindelwald could turn on and off on a whim, like yet another face that he slipped over his own. He lacks that charm especially now, after all that he’s been through. But he’s a warm, smart, Genuinely Good Person TM, even if he suffers from enormous trust issues and with good reason - a problem he and Credence very much share. Credence, on the other hand, is initially a stranger to him. Unlike Credence he has no expectations of his personality, he simply gets to know him. Percival finds it very refreshing that Credence doesn’s suffer from prejudices against him because he’s an alpha and Percival is an omega. He doesn’t look down on him, doesn’t patronize him, doesn’t blame him. If anything he asks him endless questions about their magic and their phenotypes and Percival tries to answer as objectively as he can, often catching himself in almost parroting some of the toxic stereotypes that ruined his life. Credence actually hulks out on a few people to protect Percival, and while under normal circumstances Percival would be annoyed at that because he’s a grownass man who can fight his own battles thank you very much, he actually feels all warm and fuzzy inside because he knows Credence did on instinct and because he cares, not because he was trying to patronize him or thought him weak. He tells Credence not to do it anymore anyway. Credence listens.
-At some point they have a heat together BECAUSE WHAT IS AN ABO AU GOOD FOR IF YOU CAN’T HAVE THAT. (I am shallow, okay?). Lots of smut ensues. Credence tops. Utterly and completely. Percival loves it. This isn’t his first time - although as an Auror he’s been largely celibate and deliberately repressed his libido with drugs because he was afraid that if he indulged himself he might provoke dangerous rumours, he did have a few indiscretions in his youth. This time is different - this is the first time he’s truly trusted, truly let go, truly let himself enjoy it without fear and shame. Not to mention that a heat after a lifetime of chemical repression would be far more intense than a heat under normal circumstances. For Credence the experience is almost overwhelming - it is most definitely his first time and he has an armful of writhing, mewling, begging omega. Add to that the part that Percival is older than him and that he used to follow the fake Percival’s lead and wow now he has to take charge, what do?!?!? But he follows his instincts and it all works out. Spectacularly.