What We Hope For (Sans X Reader) ✨UNDER EDITING✨

An Ending

"so let me get this straight. your soul can force your opponent to use mercy instead of violence." Sans summarizes everything I have told him. We are both chilling on the floor of the bedroom.

"Basically."

"that means no one will be able to hurt you." He concludes.

"Not exactly. My FORCED MERCY will only be able to prevent people from killing me, not hurting me. And it will only work if there is good in their souls."

"well if you were able to prevent Flowey from . . . hurting you. that must mean that there is good in everyone."

"I think so too."

". . . there is a loophole isn't there." He claims.

"Yes. You witnessed it yesterday. The act of killing me indirectly would prevent anyone from being guilty. . ."

"no they would still be guilty." His voices raises in anger.

"Perhaps so, but my soul would think otherwise. They wouldn't be emotionally affected." The topic changed.

"You mentioned earlier that your HP is at 60?" I recall.

He hums in reply. "I'm still pretty confused on that. I do have my theories though."

"Really? And what is your hypothesis Dr. Bones?"

He laughs at the name. "do you know what HP stands for?"

"Isn't it Health points?"

"sure but it is also an acronym for something else. . ." He draws out his answer playfully.

"And that is. . ." I get impatient.

"hope."

Hope? I think it over. Huh he does got a point.

"the more hope one gains, the higher your hp will increase." He explains.

"Flowey said something similar to that yesterday." I tell him.

"really?" His raises his brow bone.

"Yes, he thanked me. Apparently for giving him hope." I recall his words.

"then i should thank you too." His eyes were gentle. My face warmed and my heart skipped a beat. I don't get flustered easily but when I do it's pretty noticeable.

"Y-you dont need to thank me. . .I-I didn't do anything. I should be thanking you. . . You saved me after all."

The conversation ended there. I played with the ends of my hair a little awkwardly when I notice Sans staring at me. Although he wasn't exactly looking at me either. He had spaced out into his own world.

"Sans? Sans." I call his name.

He shakes his head lightly and mentally returns to reality. He looked down and covered his eyes. He looked sad.

"Are you okay?"

"yeah, yeah. it's nothing. it's nothing. " His sleeve blocked his face from view.

I didn't want to pressure him into telling me anything. So I did the next best thing I could. I pulled him into a comforting hug. He relaxed into it, his head rested in the crook of my neck. A silence overtook the room.

"I can't get it out of my head." He starts.

"Can't get what out of your head?"

"The image of you. . . dying. . ." His voice cracks.

"What??" I whisper a little confused.

"I failed y/n. I failed. 16 times. I don't deserve any sort of thanks." His breath warmed the crook of my neck as he spoke.