Snowglobes ∆Gaster!Sans x Reader∆

*One*

Cody Tompson.
19 years old.
Abusive boyfriend of Opal Sparrow for 2 years.

Opal Sparrow.
19 years old.
Strong girl who won't stand for this anymore.

Opal's POV
You blew hair out of your face, and your door rattled with a vicious bang.
"Open the damn door!" That same voice shouted, and you recognized the fiery tone. He was getting angrier. You pushed all of your body weight onto the door and blocked the rattles as best you could. He was not getting through this door. You felt one last repetitive bang before his thundering footsteps retreated down the hallway.

You groaned inwardly, and slid down the door. You faced your room, stealing a glance at your unkept bed. You had no reason to keep it clean, most nights where spent huddled on the hardwood floor doubled over in pain anyways.

You paced your floor a bit, limping from last nights fiasco. The gauze that covered you arm peeled off, uselessley leaving your wounds bare. You tried your best to tie it back on, and you attempted to fix the strips on your legs to. This is it room, I'll miss you soft pillow, and also you too, stuffed animal. You grandly threw open your closet doors, stepping over clothes and forgotten books, and grabbed your old backpack from 6th grade, It had multiple lollipops and candies plastered on its front, each one of them having cute little smiley faces......not one of your proudest purchases.

You knew he would come back, so you quickly stuffed your belongings that were necessary into the bag. IPod, hell yes. Toothbrush, optional, but sadly needed. Glasses, well obviously.

Cross, to compel the demons that might be lurking in the night...nah, screw that. You denied the cross, setting it gently back down on a mountain of clothes. Uhhhh, deodorant, yah. ChapStick! Well, maybe not, but maybe.....yeah, you're bringing ChapStick. Uhhh, what else do you need? Um, what about....hoodie, ok. You were pondering the necessities that were required when the fierce banging began again on your door. "Open the door!" He yelled yet again, You could tell the door was brittle, so there was no telling what would happen if the banging continued. You quickly threw a few more things inside the bag before throwing it over your shoulder and retreating silently towards the window.

You crawled slowly and slid open the window, cursing its rusty hinges. Although you couldn't exactly hear it with the slaps constantly directed towards your bedroom door. You climbed clumsily up the windowsill, almost slipping. It really isn't that far of a drop...right? You took a deep breath, no more yelling, no more beating, you were free. You smiled giddily and forced yourself off the windowsill. You landed with a burst of pain, having it spread through your body as you grunted and forced yourself off the ground and sprinted in the opposite direction of the house, really having no idea where you were. Blank roads surrounded you on each side, giving you no sense of direction.

"Fucking peachy." You muttered, turning towards an open road. Cars ignored you and drove by as you limped solemnly down the street, and when you finally saw the smallest hint of a town, you immediately straightened yourself and limped as fast as you could to the nearest hotel.

You froze. Did you even have enough money for a hotel room? You only had a 20, it was kind of all you had. Your heart dropped to your stomach, you didn't have enough.

You sighed and continued to stroll down the sidewalk, and strangers stared at you.
They stared at your bruises.
They stared at your bandages.
They stared at the determined look on your face.

Or maybe they were just staring at your weird ass backpack. But your negative thoughts soon washed away as a neon in your cloud of vision projected the word 'Grillby's' onto your skin. You smiled gleefully and sauntered into the restaurant, it was almost like a bar.

You guaranteed that they had alcohol there, but you weren't exactly thirsty for that kind of drink. Or maybe you were. You glanced up at the residents of the bar, and they all stared back. That's when you realized.

You were the only human there.

Shit, you thought quickly, running up to the bartender, who was flickering and popping, his body being made out of flames, certainly not the oddest thing you had seen.

You guys do serve humans here, right?" You asked, and as if on cue, your stomach growled. You smiled sheepishly. The man nodded, and you let out a sigh of relief. You plopped down on one of the seats lined up at the bar, and smiled warmly at the man. "Can I get something strong?"  You asked softly, and the flame man seemed to smile and in a deep Russian accent, said "You don't look 21 to me."

You snickered and grinned, "Alright, Sparky, you caught me red-handed." You said, lifting up your hands which were scarred enough to possibly be considered red. The flamey dude laughed, and handed you a soda, and you stuck your tounge out at him, cracking open the can.

Hours probably passed before you left, stalling, for you knew you really had no where to stay. You could tell Grillby was worried about you, since he gazed at your bruises and gave you some food to go, on the house. You couldn't thank him enough. "Grillbz, you don't have to do this, I'm a big tough girl, I'll find some food on my own."

This sentence just seemed to worry him more, since now he knew you didn't even have any food. You throw the empty soda can somewhere to your right, hearing it clank against the curb.

(I DO NOT PROMOTE ANY SORT OF LITTERING )

"Y'know," A rough voice from behind you says, "You're not supposed to litter, girlie." You glance back towards the can, and you see what might possibly be the most amazing yet terrifying thing you've ever laid eyes on. He's a skeleton, but is he really? Two single cracks lay over each eye, and black casual pants dressed his legs, along with a jacked that was cropped short at the ribs. You can't say that you didnt wanna touch his face, cause you did. Speaking of his face, you found him oddly attractive. He had that whole bad-guy vibe going.

"Sorry, but I can't exactly pick it up, Ghost Rider." You say, your face expressionless. "And why is that?" He asked, glaring at you. "I got a limp, buddy." You said, leaning your leg forward a bit so he could see the large gash you had from falling, and multiple other bruises.

You swear you saw something flash in his eyes for a second, before he straightened up, saying, "Somebody do that to you?" You shrugged, "I guess you could say that." You replied, and you saw him glare. Did he just not like humans? Most monsters didn't, you could see why. "See, all you humans do is hurt each other, just pain, pain, and more pain." He snarled. "Well, your never gonna make progress in this world thinking like that." You said, not really meaning to piss him off. Apparently you did.

Because all you saw was a flash of yellow.

//Hey! Author here! This first chapter sucks, I'm currently going through editing, heavily, if I might add.//