Wilted [ Sans x Flowerfell! Reader ]

/2\

There was pain.

It coursed throughout your body as the swarm of monsters lumbered over towards your lifeless form, anticipation gleaming in their eyes. "P-Please..." your cry came as a muffled whisper, barely audible over the sounds of sadistic laughter emitted from the multiple Froggits that surrounded you.

Toriel kept a distance from you, as if she was allowing the monsters to kill you. There was a murderous glint in her eyes as fresh blood pooled onto the floor. A final screech escaped from your lips as the Froggits pounced onto you, biting and tearing at any visible flesh they could get thee mouths on.

Red dots flashed through your vision and your body gave an involuntary shudder and went still. There was a wave of relief that washed through you. Finally, this murderous cycle would end. You would finally pass onto whatever afterlife there was waiting for you.

You...

You had materialized at the front of Toriel's house, what you assumed to be the last save point. You had noticed that certain major events acted as landmarks that in the event you died, you would respawn at the last landmark event. In this case, it had been the arrival at Toriel's house.

The familiar itching sensation began this time in the back of your skull as another flower blossomed onto your head. There was now a total of five, showing that you had died an additional three times now in the Ruins since you had last been with Flowey. What went wrong? your mind flashed to the previous timeline. You had been about to walk into Toriel's house when a Froggit had hopped into view. In self defense, you had struck it, causing it to attack back.

This time I won't hurt it, you decided as you took a step towards the doorway. On cue, a rather ugly looking Froggit made its presence known.

Ugly was perhaps an overstatement. You were sure that it would have made a rather decent looking frog. But like with many monsters you had noticed during your time in the Ruins, many had altered their appearance to make them look much more menacing than they actually were. The tattoo I like my flies raw was scrawled across the Froggit's chest in the illusion of dripping blood. Rubber spikes had been surgically implanted into its spinal cord. In a nutshell, it looked like a nightmarish version of of Kermit the Frog.

A swarm of flies surrounded you, each diving at various parts of your body, eager to take a bite into your flesh. You managed to dodge the majority of them, but a strangled cry escaped you as two flies managed to lay a bite on your right arm.

It was now your turn to choose an action, as it was customary to do so in a fight. I'll compliment it, you decided and turned to face the Froggit, struggling to decided what positive element there was to compliment. "You... You, uh, have a very nice skin tone?" The statement came out more as a question, causing you to internally wince. It wasn't a lie, however. At least the Froggit's color hadn't been the vomit-green you noticed the other members of its species possessed.

There was a brief moment of hesitance as the Froggit examined you, unsure of how to respond. It had heard rumors throughout its lifetime that there was such a thing as kindness, but never did it expect to actually experience such a rare and forgotten event. But there was a warm feeling that seemed to blossom within it, and Froggit decided that it liked this feeling very much.

"Thank you human," it croaked awkwardly. You realized that this was probably the first time such words had been uttered in the Underground in over a hundred years. Toriel blinked once in a daze, as if she had expected you to have been reduced to a pulpy mess. She seemed...

(Disappointed?)

"Come my child," she beckoned for you to follow her inside the house. The exterior had made the home seem inviting, but the inside was a completely different story. Cobwebs adorned the walls and snail carcasses littered almost every square inch. It seemed that the words garbage can had also never been uttered under this roof in most likely a hundred years.

"This will be your room!" Toriel declared, leading you to a narrow room. There was a murderous glint in her eyes as she flipped the lights on, revealing a blood-stained bedroom. Ironically, it seemed to be the coziest room of the house. Perhaps the entire Underground, to be more specific.

"Is something burning?" she raised her noise to smell the air and you could agree, something was burning. And you had a feeling you knew why there were dead snails on the floor. Toriel excused herself, insisting she had to attend to some sort of snail pie. Your stomach grumbled angrily at the mention of snail food, earning another murderous glance from Toriel.

You also decided that any human that didn't agree with her choices of food didn't live long enough to see what was on the desert menu either.

Curiosity probed you and you flung the closet doors open, revealing multiple [F/C] sweaters. Delight ran through you as you quickly slipped one on, noticing that it fit you exactly. There was a light brushing sound as Flowey emerged through the floorboards.

"A little help?" he mumbled, indicating with one of his torn petals that his roots had been tangled in the hardwood. You gently eased him out, the scene of tearing apart while he laughed, urging you onwards, played through your mind like a horror movie on repeat. Flowey cast anxious glances at the room, as if he was reliving memories of another lifetime.

But what could there be that was so important about a flower, even if it could talk?

"My child, would you like some pie?" Toriel sang and you were immediately reminded of how similar she sounded to a serial killer right before they murdered everyone within a five mile radius of themselves. You hissed slightly, urging Flowey to wrap his roots around your right forearm, burying himself underneath your sweater.

"I approve of your fashion choice!" Toriel exclaimed, noticing your new [F/C] sweater. There was some sort of fond memory that flashed in her eyes and you couldn't help but notice how similar her reaction was to Flowey's. They would have made a sadistic family if Flowey had been a goat, you noticed with twisted humor.

Reluctantly, you trudged after Toriel, knowing that you had no choice but to eat the pie.

You had a feeling that if you refused, you would end up being the next main course.