All beginnings begin with ends

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Ignoring the fact that Sans' own brother had just kissed you in a flight of passion (which you couldn't really ignore, hard as you tried)- you both raced down the tower's staircase.

As to why in the nine realms of hell he did that— you still had no clue. Papyrus- leading the whole cadaver down to the fight downstairs knew exactly what he was doing. Following orders. His queen said let his feelings be known before he died with no chance to.... Well, there they were! Laid bare in the open. "If we have any luck at all there will be minimal obstacles from either parties so late into this. I'd be surprised if no one's dead yet." He muttered, continuing his quick decent. The resounding noise of echoing crashes and shots were gaining volume as you raced down the flight of stairs.

You tripped up over your feet in your mad dash, crashing into Papyrus' back to which he grumbled in irritation before grabbing your arm, dragging you behind, sprint unbroken. You had both arrived at the mouth of the battle- most were slumped to the sides, gathering their breath while some laid on the floor unmoving- waste to the slaughter. Your eyes fell to Sans- well, followed his darting movements more like, with great struggle. He was quick as a whippet, swiping his hands in the air as if inciting a sequence in which it did. Bones speared through, attacking the king who knocked them down with a mighty strike- friendly face contorted with a rage unknown.

You wanted to scream out- do anything— something that would get this to stop before blue and pink invaded your sights, caught in the thick of it. Frisk stood his ground, glaring at Asgore who approached. His guns clicked as they were aimed— you ran towards them- Papyrus' grip failing to recapture you as Frisk shot before the triton slammed down- catching thin air. You had tackled the small boy to the marbled ground smeared in caked scuff marks and blood with a cry.

Asgore fell to his knees with a thud, dust spilling from bullet wounds. Papyrus crossed the hall with haste as his king rose- your heads rearing from the floor as he did. Frisk turned to you with only a tip of his fedora in thanks. You only stared at him in concern. "Get the others and leave." You commanded. Before he could shake his head in refusal, you gave him a gentle shove towards the side, him staring before giving a defeated nod, scuttling off to scout for Muffet and Gaster among the mess of bodies. The shrill scream of metal dragging heavily against marble squealed from behind you, head whipping to be met with the same lifted weapon that almost ended Frisk.

Your eyes bulged- the triton stabbed— and you were snatched away by a needle-prick of time. The familiar touch of bone melding against your waist made you relieved- though he didn't bother in asking  if you were alright... cause he was now out for blood. He set you aside, not without his usual cautiousness, phalange reluctant to let go, maintaining its grip before you slipped away, peering up as he let out a literal growl, feral to the note.

You couldn't recognise him under that shadow of hate.

You stepped back, unsure of what to say or do as he stared dead-centre at Asgore. The monster that dared to dream of killing you. Asgore only stared back, dust that smattered his blonde beard now flaking. There were no words exchanged as both parties suddenly charged again- a ferocious clash of bone against forged metal. Papyrus spied you towards the side, watching in hopelessness as the two fought, continuing despite the tired lag against their bodies. Now would be the time to intervene. He stepped quickly into the battle, about to interrupt their nonsense before an all too familiar weapon speared him through the spinal cord, Papyrus choking.

"Get out of my way boy!!" Asgore growled, thrusting the skeleton carelessly aside like a wrung-out rag, Papyrus slumping down the wall. You screamed, scrambling over to him, trying desperately to sit him up as Sans turned to Asgore in fury, the king's body entombed in red with a flick of his phalange. "Get him out of here." Was all Sans gritted through his teeth- but it was all you needed to hear as his voice carried the ebb of concern that weighed him down. You slung Papyrus' limp arm over your shoulders, surprisingly heavy for a bone so thin and frail as you dragged his semi conscious form out of the hall. You entered an empty room, save for a couple of chairs and a floor of clinging ivy.

Can I take you to Dinner? Mafi-fell!Sans x Reader.  [COMPLETED]Where stories live. Discover now