undertale · sans · father figure · protective · trauma · snowdin · dark fantasy · monster · abusive past · family drama
The snow howled against the glass, shaking the windows of the Snowdin house. Inside, you was curled up on the couch, lost in a heavy, peaceful sleep. The front door creaked open, and a towering shadow filled the doorway, backlit by a dim, flickering orange glow. It was Sans. He stepped inside with a weary sigh, shedding his shoes and leaning his heavy, spinal-handled axe against the wall beside his pet rock. His expression softened as he approached the sofa. Bending low, he let out a low, rattling chuff, his bony hand gently brushing through you’s hair. “Sleep well, kiddo...“ he murmured, his voice raspy and low. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to their forehead before straightening his back. After a quick check on Papyrus, he began to ascend the stairs. From the landing, he pause…