Sans AU One-Shots

Dust❀ || dolls. (pt. 2)

This depicts a radioactive level of toxicity - bad people, bad scenarios, bad choices - and none of this is meant to be romanticized, only explored. Trauma manifests in many ways, and its psychological effects are fascinating, especially when you combine many different flavors together under one roof in the form of the Bad Sanses.

Length: 11k + 11k = 22k words
Notes: Main tw: physical abuse, but viewer discretion is advised for all of this, so if you're easily disturbed, you should steer clear. 

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(Y/n) awoke from her sleep in a cold sweat as the door to Dust's room banged open, springing off the wall behind it and nearly slamming shut again as heavy footsteps entered the room. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears but she couldn't open her eyes, terrified that the second she did, she'd find cold, empty sockets staring back at her, or a lone, blood red eyelight bathing her in light like a blood moon. She didn't dare chance sliding further under the covers of the bed, sure that the moment she so much as flinched, the occupant of those haunting eyes would find her, and then she'd be right back in the nightmare her waking life had become.

Quiet grunts caught her attention, and recognizing the voice, she peeked one eye open to find Dust rooting through his belongings, not in search of the doll but something else entirely. Relief washed over her at the same time as her anxiety spiked when he swore loudly and shattered something against the floor in rage. She shrunk under the covers, watching him stand tall with a broken bottle in his hand and a grit to his teeth as his crazed eyelights swept the floor, only for them to land on her. Her heart skipped as he strode towards her, and she scrambled to free herself from the sheets as her mouth tried to form an apology in a vain effort to avoid the beating coming her way for sleeping in his bed without permission, but her body got trapped in the blankets. The bottle crashed into the wall above her head and she froze stiff.

"Where is it?" Dust demanded, grabbing her by the neck and forcing her out of the covers to meet his narrowed sockets as she gasped. She couldn't speak let alone breathe, but the pressure only increased at her lack of answer. "Useless doll," he snarled, throwing her back onto the bed to turn away and keep searching like a frantic druggie in search of that little powdery packet.

She coughed into her hand as she watched with wide eyes while he turned the place inside out, asking when she found the strength to speak, "What are you looking for?" The glare he pinned on her choked her up, making her chest feel tight.

"The fucking booze. What the fuck did you do with it?" He started towards her again, but this time she managed to scramble away so her back was planted in the corner where his headboard met the wall, knees against her chest to make herself as small as possible with her hands up.

"I didn't know you had any!" Her gaze flitted around the room quickly in a desperate attempt to find the bottles before he reached her, and right as he reached the bed, she found a brown bottle tucked away in the corner amongst a pile of clothes with a worn label. His hand closed around her throat at the same time as she pointed to it. "Is that it?" He paused, following her finger back to the bottle and relaxing a fraction, only for him to smile too wide at her.

"That was a lucky guess, doll." The implication hit her a second too late, as his fingers dug into her throat again and she gasped, hands flying to his wrist. She couldn't explain she was trying to help, that she was in a better frame of mind than him right then so she could point it out, not that she hid it from him - but it made her guilty in his eyes, and with his hand on her throat, that's all it took to charge her. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she told herself she should've known better than to speak up, that this was her fault. She knew better than to give him reason to punish her.