Lookin' Like That - Mafiafell!Sans X Reader Oneshot
Here's a little something that came as a gift for the exciting dream I had this morning over a mafiafell Sans. This is what I get for reading fanfics before bed. This is, sadly, not apart of the sweetheart underfell Sans anthology, nor is Sans a himbo in this one. He's actually a pretty wolfish guy. Especially considering the song for this drabble is Fiesty by Jhameel.
This was supposed to be a part of a new idea I had, but I'm still trying to flesh out the idea, so hopefully, I'll be able to come up with something better than this half-baked oneshot.
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You had been really good so far, avoiding the shadiest characters in the best suits in this part of the outskirts of Ebbot City. You were almost sure that the way you slid right past everyone who smelled of power was almost part of the package deal of magic from the version of you that died at your feet when you were first thrown into this world. And if you ever got back to your world, you would personally kill your Sans for this mishap. You know he hadn't meant to explode his machine in front of you, but your relationship with him was already sour, so this definitely wasn't helping his case, and you kind of doubted that he'd want to come after you without some convincing. So, you weren't counting on an extraction from this world anytime soon.
The good thing, you supposed, is that you did have a version of yourself here - but they... uh... died. Right at your feet when you first got here. You couldn't remember it all very well, but you knew for a fact that there were a lot of angry voices that were coming after them as well, so that wasn't too reassuring. Some digging revealed that they may have been involved in some unsavory businesses.
You at least got their pocket cash and weapons. Not that you really knew how to fire a gun too well, but the money and hidden knife were useful. Sure, you probably shouldn't have looted a body for their wallet, but you were in a new environment, what else were you supposed to do?
The only logistical error was if you used their credit card or their ID after they were to be proclaimed 'dead'. That would be a really bad idea, but it was enough to get you on your feet at least. A decent motel room for a few weeks, a few odd jobs here and there to gather up some money, and you might be able to skip this town for one where you didn't feel the hairs on your back stand.
It was quite odd though, that every now and again, you'd just be able to tell when someone was part of the underground network that the other version of yourself was part of. If you weren't literally wearing the enchanted bracelet that they had on before they died, then you would almost think that it was a sixth sense you inherited from them. Now you knew it was. There would be no other way you would have expected an old man with a walker would have been concealing a gun otherwise. And that guy really put some holes in people across the street.
The list of oddities that you got when you arrived here just kept going, but you just kept trying not to think about it. You fixed the facemask over your mouth, trying to catch your breath after quickly walking past a group of gangsters who set off the alarm bells in your head - and then the alarm bells in a bank about three blocks from where you had begun briskly walking away from.
And you really should have watched where you were going as you were taking a moment to collect yourself. You nearly bumped into someone- taking a quick sidestep before grazing his shoulder and muttering a "sorry" - but as soon as you were done fixing your mask back into place, a hand caught your arm.
"what." Uh oh.
Oh no. No, no, no. The alarms in your head were going off twice as loud, and it nearly gave you a splitting headache. It seemed as though the version of yourself in this world also had a sour reaction to that raspy, baritone voice just as much as you did. You almost wanted to just bolt, but if you knew your own Sans, then this one would absolutely chase after you if you did, and there was no way you would be able to escape.
"Ahem-" You cleared your throat, pretending you had a scratchy sore throat. "S-sorry, man." You awkwardly stuttered out, glancing back to take a look at this world's Sans purely out of curiosity.
Mistake.
Mistakes were made- as soon as he caught sight of your eyes, his burning red eye lights shrunk in size and his grip on your arm tightened. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
You didn't bother to tug it free; it would just make him all the more eager to keep his hold on you. Time to reverse psychology your way out of this one. You leaned into his touch a little more, pressing your shoulder against his chest and ignoring the way his eye sockets widened when he caught sight of your eyes, the outline of your other variant's irises crawling along the edges of yours. A sign that the world was trying to fit you in somewhere to make up for your anomalous presence.
"I said sorry." You didn't bother to pretend to have a sore throat, and you could see the spark of recognition he had for your voice, but you decidedly ignored that too.
Instead, you shoved the barrel of your stolen gun up under his ribcage, and you could see him freeze...
And the very noticeable flush of his cheekbones with red magic.
You uh... would try not to think about that either.
"Thanks." You muttered, now yanking your arm away from his loosened grip, his eye lights flickering from your face to the gun you had shoved just under his sternum through the fabric of his suit.
You were close enough to smell the distinct scent of magic cherry cigars and see the way his gold tooth glinted in the sunlight that peaked over his black fedora, but you had to find a way to escape without causing a scene or him following you now. You didn't think he'd take lightly a human who'd so 'casually' pull a gun on him. Your Sans sure as hell wouldn't, why would this one?
"you survived." He whispered to you, his permagrin tight and his eye sockets narrowing at you as he finally collected himself. "... no..." The longer he stared at you, the more he realized something was out of place.
You lowered your head, trying to hide more of your face from him.
Mistake.
"you're not them." His fingers twitched, ready to grab you again, and the senses you gained from your variant kicked in - you disengaged the safety.
"I suggest you keep your non-existent nose out of it." You muttered back to him. This time you couldn't ignore the way his nasal ridge twitched when you hissed your words at him.
Looks like you weren't the only version of 'you' to have history with Sans. Maybe it was just how the timeline was always meant to be.
"...and what if i don't?" He couldn't help but push. this wasn't them.
"Then you're gonna find out what really happened that night." You had a feeling he had been there... The night that the other version of you died. He had been there, scraping through the ashes of a burnt down building to find their bones cracked and turned to soot. "Sit down, Sans. Before you open a can of worms you aren't ready to clean up after."
He watched you as you pulled away, clicking the safety back on as you tucked your weapon back into your stolen coat, glaring at him as you made your escape.
He let you run.
After all, he was still trying to figure out what happened to the other you. The one he had captured himself.
