Fall of the Empire [ Sans x Reader ]

/5\

The knife.

You could feel it in your hand. The hilt seemed to fit perfectly in your shaking palm, as if it was nothing more than an extension of your arm. Slowly you inched towards your prey, a primal hunger burning inside you.

Every part of your body seemed to be trembling with the sadistic joy at the impending doom that loomed above your victim. You closed your eyes imagined slipping the knife in between where the neck and head connected, the sense of accomplishment that would course through you as the knife would slide in with ease. And then you would jerk your hand upwards and the head would be ripped from the body and cast aside as if it had meant nothing.

"[Y/N]..." the voice was soft, carefully pronounced to hide the fear of the speaker. And like that you felt any resolve simply drain away until the knife tumbled out of your hand and clattered against the floor. The echo seemed to resonate across the entire Underground and perhaps it did, for there was no one left to produce any other noise to block this echo.

Sans faced your burning glare with one of defiance. "Why [Y/N]?" he swept his hands across the room. "Why have you done this? What went wrong?" His voice cracked on the last word, blue tears welling up in the corners of his eyesockets.

"I thought..." he continued, struggling to find the right words. "I thought we were happy together."

You wanted to take a step closer to Sans, to comfort him. But behind the tears was his burning desire for your blood to spill across the floor. He wanted you to feel the agonizing death each of your victims had endured for all of eternity. Now, now
[Y/N], the voice chided softly.

You stiffened and nervously cast a glance at Sans, relieved that he was not hearing it. The deal cannot be broken. We have bonded as one.

The tip of your lips had curved into a snarl. Pain racked your spinal cord, urging you forwards. Closer to the kill.

This moment, no matter what you continued to tell yourself, would truly be your fault. Sans' death stemmed from the desk you had made so many resets ago, an act of desperation in a feeble attempt to avoid the inevitable.

Your mind cleared itself of distance memories as you knelt besides Sans. Gently, you raised his skull upwards so his gaze met your's. "[Y/N]?" Any hate he had felt for you vanished. "I want t-to go home."

"Don't worry," you snarled, jerking his head backwards. You stiffened as a loud cracking noise filled the empty hallway. Sans' head rolled aimlessly on the floor before dissolving into dust. "We all go home eventually."

You woke with a start, your mouth slightly parted to form a silent scream that would never come. Your hand brushed against the wet dirt that acted as your only mattress. However, you couldn't help but give a sigh of relief at the realization that you would never wake up in the laboratory again.

I will always find you.

You turned your head sideways to catch a better glimpse of Sans who was sleeping in a patch of echo flowers. What had once seemed as a beautiful creation turned into one much more annoying at the realization that echo flowers would repeat the slightest noise detected. Sans' snores were broadcasted throughout the entire Underground, the trumpets heralding your existence to the world.

We could live here, you thought to yourself, examine your surroundings. A single river ran through Waterfall, providing the water for the many strange glowing plants here.

But there was a part of you that knew you could never truly make your home here. You belonged somewhere else. You belonged

(in Snowden)

somewhere that put as much distance between you and Hotlands as possible. There was a slight smile on your face at the memory of slowly ascending the stairs and walking into the blinding light of the lava. You had taken to curiosity at the fact that there was even a world beyond the doors of the laboratory. The fact that there was a Surface - a while other realm besides that of the monster world - seemed too much to take in.

But the nightmares.

Two nights had passed since your freedom. I'm never going to be free, you thought sarcastically, glancing at the handplates that were engraved on both of the skeletons hands. He will find us.

The nightmares had reoccurred in frequency. It seemed to be that being a part of Gaster's sadistic experiment would forever be branded inside your mind - even in the twisted world of dreams and illusions.

The tendrils - the black wisps that seemed to take no form of matter ever witnessed - had plagued your mind each night. They got closer to you by the second and eventually flooded inside your mouth, drowning out all other senses until one remained.

The urge to kill.

And with you as his vessel, Gaster had marched back into the realm of the living and slaughtered those who came in his path. You could only watch helplessly - a secondary character in your own body - as monsters pleaded for their lives only to have their heads lopped off by a black knife clutched in your hand.

And then there was the hallway.

The nightmares always ended here. There was some emotion that resonated within your possessed form when Gaster viewed Sans. Hatred, guilt, affection, all churned inside of you. But there was the same sadistic humor that had manifested itself within Gaster.

He knew that Sans could never bring himself to kill you, no matter if you were possessed. And so he would simply wither into dust and the nightmare would end.

But this time, the nightmare had felt real. For a moment, reality and the dream world seemed to entwine as one, to the point where you were afraid you would never truly wake up from it. There had been a struggle, yes, you were sure of it, to escape the confines of a demented reality that your mind had created.

Only a dream [Y/N].

Your gaze flickered to Sans who stirred slightly in the patch of echo flowers. Despite the chaos that ravaged through your mind, you couldn't help but smile.

It's only a nightmare, you thought after a moment of hesitation. We're free now. I won't let anything change that.