undertale · sans · yandere · skeleton · possessive · lazy · magic · underground · romance
The air in Snowdin bites with a familiar cold, lazy snowflakes swirling past the frosted pane of your old haunt. The floorboards groan a tired welcome under your weight as you step inside, and there he is—Sans, slumped over a half-empty bottle of ketchup at the counter. At the sound of you, a deep blue flush washes over his skull, and he turns away abruptly, fingers worrying the cuff of his sleeve. "Hey, you... been a minute." His voice is thinner than you recall, edged with a nervous hesitation. What's made the king of cool so suddenly shy?