#So happy so calm | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

llamagoddessofficial · 3 months

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An HMF x OC commission from @radpunch that made me swoon ❤️ any chance to write this big lug, I'll take!!

---

It was love at first sight.

Looking out his car window was, oddly, one of the few joys he still had. It was such a strange thing to look forward to. Papyrus wouldn’t allow him to drive anymore, given the state of him, and although it frustrated him to lose his agency having a driver meant he could sit in the backseat and stare out of the tinted window.

... He was sick and tired of the way everything would stop when he entered a room. He was sick of the world that refused to forget the parts of him he wanted to forget, but at the same time, forgot the things he desperately wished to hold onto.

His eyelight rolled over the street, taking in it all. The colours, the sounds, the sights. He could almost forget what had happened to him. He got the sense of normalcy he had been missing, craving, for so long; nobody could gawk at him like they usually did, nobody even knew he was there. From the safety of that bulletproof box he could see how the normal world went on. People bustling up and down the streets, moving in and out of stores, chatting with friends or arguing with each other, laughing and yelling and living their lives.

How things used to be.

His eyelight landed on something that should’ve been another normal sight. An entirely unremarkable flower shop, sat between a cafe and small family market. It was the kind of area he and his brother would’ve collected protection from in the early days of their ‘business’. There were flowers arranged outside of the store, grey metal buckets full of bouquets set spaced across a low wooden table.

... There was a human woman tending to the flowers. Your apron was the same colour as the store’s green banner.

...

His Soul stilled inside his chest.

“... stop the car,” he said, before he even knew he was speaking.

You weren’t doing anything particularly incredible, nor noteworthy. You blended in with the rest of the people on that busy street - standing outside your shop. Watering the plants? Pruning them? He couldn’t tell from this distance.

Impressively, the driver had heard his mumbled command, shifting down a gear despite the look from the bodyguard in the passenger seat.

“Where would you like to get out, sir?”

... It was strange. But Sans missed the days when his drivers would question him. It just wasn’t the same now that nobody ever even thought of challenging his word. Sir, this isn’t where we’re stopping. Sir, Papyrus said we must be there at eight, we cannot pull over. Sir, I’m under express orders not to let you go to the bar.

Now, even the slightest sign of questioning would probably be considered stupid.

“... florist.”

Sans didn’t miss the second strange look the bodyguard gave to the driver. He would’ve felt anger at that, usually, but instead he watched intently as you headed into the shop.

The driver pulled up to the side of the road, a few cars’ distance from the entrance to the store. Sans opened the car door.

“How long will you be, sir?” the guard asked.

Sans didn’t reply; he often didn’t, these days. He merely stepped out of the car. He knew the driver would wait.

The second he exited the vehicle, Sans saw the world around him realise he was there, and react with its usual amount of terror and disgust. His presence was always a blight. People in the street immediately began to stare, freezing in their path, refusing to cross in front of the giant that had just appeared. A mother with a child who had been walking their way suddenly spotted him, and jerked her child by the arm, turning the two of them around and rushing in the other direction.

Usually, he only had to pretend that he didn’t care. But this time, he genuinely didn’t.

... He was excited.

Sans made his way over to the flower shop, ignoring all the tiny people that flitted away from him. His Soul was... beating. It was beating, thudding against his ribcage.

He opened the door, ducking slightly under the frame. A tiny bell chimed.

... It was such a quaint little store. Clearly strapped for space, every corner was occupied with pretty things; while one wall was dedicated to shelves full of decorative pots and bottles of flower feed, the rest of the store was bursting with different kinds of blossoms, arranged in all kinds of creative ways. Every taste was catered to - elegant bouquets of dark paddle-leaves and pale lilies, stringy minimalist green stalks dotted with clusters of tiny blossoms, extravagant bunches of pink that more resembled floral fireworks than anything natural. A blackboard displayed bouquet prices, with sweet little illustrations of the various bridal styles available. *Please note that out-of-season flowers might be more expensive!

And at the far end, behind the counter... by far the prettiest thing in the whole room.

You.

Whatever had happened to him in the car, it happened again. His chest was tight, his head was swimming. His Soul felt heavy, and hot, he was certain it had manifested itself inside his ribcage - it felt as if it was twice its usual size. Everything was brighter, more saturated.

You did look at his head crack when he entered. Everyone did. You glanced up from the bouquet you were organising, a classic bunch of perfectly red roses; but your eyes quickly skirted away from the injury, aware that you were staring, and probably not wanting to be rude. It was more politeness than most bothered to afford him.

... Then you smiled at him.

He literally felt his Soul pulse. All his breath escaped him at the same time. You were smiling? At him? People didn’t smile at him anymore, not genuinely. Their smiles were sly and patronising when they assumed he was stupid, or desperate and weak when they were a cornered animal doing their best to appear nonchalant in the face of a predator.

This smile... your smile...

“Hi sir,” you said, in a voice like a lullaby. “what can I get for you?”

What could you get for him? He hadn’t even started thinking about that. He had just seen you across the road, and followed you like a lost dog. His eyelight scanned the shelves; he couldn’t say he’d ever been into a florist before, nor that he knew how to order a bouquet.

“... what’s...” For the first time in a long time, he was really really trying to get his words right. He was willing to put in the effort. “... your name?”

“Dove. You?”

It took him a moment to remember his own name.

“sans.”

Everything about you was soft. You had little lines around your smile that he wanted to trace with his claws. “It’s nice to meet you. Is there anything you’re looking for?”

you. “... just flowers.”

To his surprise, you giggled. It was a small sound, but it shot through him like lightning.

“Of course. My bad.”

“... was lookin’ for... somethin’ pretty.” He stared across the room at you, emboldened by your laugh. “... think i already found it, though.”

You went pink, and looked down at the counter.

Sans was...

... Well, he was shocked.

When was the last time his attention had incited anything except absolute terror? Regardless of gender, even just a glance from would make people shudder and cower, retreating into themselves. But here you were, blushing at his first attempt at flirting in what must’ve been years. He almost didn’t know what to do with himself.

... He couldn’t remember a single instance, after his injury, where he genuinely wanted someone. He had a vague aesthetic interest in a member of a rival gang, once, but she’d been so frightened by him staring at her that he quickly gave that up. He hadn’t felt these kinds of feelings in a long time.

... In fact... now that he was looking at you and your lovely nose and lips, he couldn’t remember a single instance before his injury when he felt this strongly about someone. His younger self had been a playboy who chased anything pretty and distracting.

He’d never felt these warm, intense, fluttery sensations before.

It felt like love.

“What’s the occasion?” you asked him. “For the flowers, I mean.”

He approached the counter. “... a gift.”

“Are there any particular flowers or colours you have in mind?”

“... which... flowers do you like?”

Your blush hadn’t gone away. Was he just seeing things because he was desperate, or were you leaning on the counter like that to be flirtatious? “Oh... I know it’s stereotypical to say as a florist, but I can’t pick a favourite. I like so many of them.”

His eyelight lingered on your neck. He didn’t want to make assumptions and scare you off. But at the same time, he wanted so much. “how come?”

“Well... there’s a lot of folklore behind flowers. Pretty much all flowers have certain meanings.” You kept fiddling with the roses, changing the position of blooms. “The Victorians were really into it, they got super specific, even down to which hand you gave flowers with. Nobody really cares about that kind of thing nowadays, they just want the bouquets to look good. Which is fair enough. But every time I find out the hidden meaning of a flower, I think about how someone long ago must’ve loved that flower enough to give it so much meaning. And I get all emotional.”

You looked up at him, your eyes glistening in the light. He dug his thumb into the side of his index finger to stop himself from reaching out and caressing your face.

“... Y’know, it does make me laugh, sometimes, when people pick rude flowers without knowing their meaning.” You looked up at him from under your eyelashes. “They have no idea they’re sending a bouquet that would’ve meant ‘I don’t trust you, and I’m extremely disappointed with you’.”

He couldn’t help but smile when you smiled. That... was kinda funny. Papyrus would like this sort of thing.

“what kinda messages... can you send?”

“Almost anything.” You moved the roses to the side. “I can’t say I know many off the top of my head. Romantic love, platonic love, wisdom, bravery. There’s a lot for love. My favourites are the mean ones, though, because it’s so funny to me - orange lilies used to mean hatred. Could you imagine getting orange lilies delivered to your door?”

... He chuckled. He could listen to you talk forever.

“... could i...” he hummed. “... get somethin’... with a meaning?”

Your whole face lit up. You beautiful thing.

“Of course! I don’t think I’ve ever actually gotten to make a bouquet that uses flower language." You were beaming. "What message were you thinking of?”

He looked right into your lovely, shiny eyes. “love at first sight.”

... He could see exactly how your mind worked, in that moment. There was an instant of surprise, then a glimmer of flattery and embarrassment, it came with another flash of warmth across your face that only deepened the colour in your cheeks. He could tell you were immediately trying to pull yourself back, convincing yourself he couldn’t mean you, reigning in the sudden feelings.

“Whoever it’s for must be very lucky.” You tucked some hair behind your ear. If only you knew. “Hold on, just let me grab my flower language book.”

You rushed over to a shelf. As you did, he looked down to double check that his Soul wasn’t shining through his clothes.

“Here.” You came back quickly, holding the book in question, already leafing through it. It was a faded beige, with beautifully illustrated blossoms on the front, encased in an embossed golden border. “This should help.”

He wanted to purr. You were so cute. Moving around with so much excitement, he liked when you were excited.

“There’s a few, I think. You’re in luck, we have these in stock.” He wasn’t paying attention to the book, he was just looking at you. “Thornless roses - gloxinia too. This one says that lilac roses are good to represent first love. We could make some really nice arrangements with these shapes and colours.”

just keep talking, was all he could think. talk to me forever...

Eventually, you looked up at him, still smiling. He had to physically fight the urge to just pick you up and walk out the door. “What size were you thinking?”

“... whatever... you think... looks best.” He wanted you to have fun with it. “... money’s... no object.”

“I think something medium would be good for these flowers. Anything bigger and it'll just look silly. Any particular styles?”

“... somethin’ romantic.”

You gently giggled. He guessed that that wasn’t a proper bouquet style. Usually, when people laughed at him, he felt the urge to cave in their skull... but when you laughed at him, he laughed too, a soft chuckle escaping his massive chest. His mind was racing to figure out why you laughed, so he could make you do it again.

“i like your laugh,” he said, before he could stop himself.

“... I like yours, too.” Your voice was sweet. Almost... coy?

He was daring to hope that, despite his gruesome injury, you liked him too.

... The store bell let out a little chime.

Sans turned around. And, much to his immediate aggravation, he saw his guard standing at the entrance.

“Hello.” Your voice was very different to the one you were just using with him. Far more customer service, far more ‘normal’. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

The guard ignored you, looking to Sans. “Sir, you...”

Sans’ glare must’ve said shut the fuck up fluently enough to make the man close his mouth again.

don’t you dare. don’t you fucking dare ruin this for me.

“... Do you two need to speak in private?” You had probably lived in this city long enough to know when it was time to make yourself scarce. “It’s fine, I can go make the bouquet while you talk.”

... He nodded.

“... sorry. s’cuse me.”

You disappeared away, into the back of the store.

...

He turned to the guard. He could feel his eyelight starting to burn, sharpening and filling with aggressive magic.

“what.”

The guard visibly shrank into himself. Sans didn’t even want guards, he didn’t fucking need them, he could more than handle himself. But Papyrus was still shaken from the incident to this day, and wouldn’t let him anywhere without at least one armed guard.

“S-sir, we’re... we’ll be late,” he said.

Sans didn’t care. The clowns he was meeting with would wait for him like nervous children, no matter how long he took to arrive. As the moments ticked by, the guard just withered more and more under Sans’ stare.

...

He eventually sighed, through his nasal cavity. Being around you had softened his mood significantly. He didn't even feel like breaking anything.

“i’ll tell... pap... you tried to rush me.”

... A wave of relief passed over the guard’s face. Though Sans was the one most feared, Papyrus’ wrath was still nothing to sneeze at.

“Here!” Your voice snapped him back to attention. He turned around, just in time to see you set an arrangement down on the counter. “What do you think? I’m happy to make adjustments.”

... It was lovely. Really lovely. He leaned in to get a closer look. He knew what lilacs and roses looked like, but he couldn’t say he’d ever seen a gloxinia before; they resembled open roses, lipstick red petals with ruffled white edges. Gloxinia and bunches of lilacs were interspersed by small lavender-hued closed rosebuds... minuscule baby’s breath flowers had been added too, on their thin stalks, floating over it all like stars.

“... s’perfect,” he murmured. You immediately smiled wider. Who would’ve known he’d grow a fondness for flowers?

He took out his wallet, rummaging until he had enough bills. It didn’t take long. He pushed them across the counter to you, and you graciously picked them up.

“Do you mind me asking who the lucky someone is?” you asked, starting to count what he’d given.

... Sans pushed the flowers across the counter a little, over to you.

“gotta go.” he murmured. “... late.”

...

You looked up at him, blankly. It was such a cute expression on your pretty face. Again, he was restraining the urge to purr, it would just be too inappropriate to do in public. Especially with someone else right behind him. Maybe if the two of you were alone...

“Huh?”

He turned, nodding to the guard, who made his way over to the door and opened it for him. As much as he wished he could just skip the meeting and stay there in that shop with you forever, he did have business to attend to.

You sounded flustered, behind him. “W-wait. You gave me too much,”

Sans waved over his shoulder at you.

The walk back to the car was a blur. His soul was still thundering. He genuinely wasn’t looking at the people around him, he didn’t care what they thought. All he cared about was what you thought.

All he was thinking about was the different ways he could make you his.

#commissions #god i love the big man #everyone else makes him HELLISH #but you make him so happy and calm

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