Fairytale Complex - [Sans x Reader]

Chapter Twenty One | It's Showtime! (Part 1 of 3)

Alternate Chapter Title(s)

You Might Think

or

The Corny One With A Song Title Reference, Part 2

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Content Warning(s)

(Mild?) Violence + Mild/Suggestive Language + Social Undermining

As seen more blatantly in the Ao3 version of FaiCom, the rating of this story has been upped from General Audiences to Teen because of these warnings.

Proceed with caution!

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It's cold and dark.

The ground you're pushed into sinks your body along with it, enveloping most of your limbs into an icy embrace, until the same force that shoved you grabs you by the collar and pulls you up again.

"Look at me, human," a familiar voice says, the only difference in its low tone being how rough, formal, and hostile it sounds.

You open your eyes and blink a few times to regain some sense of where you are and see Sans standing right before you. One hand holds you still by grabbing tight on your shirt and the other keeps him in place as he corners you against a rock wall, just as cold as the ground beneath you. His gaze is as sharp as a knife, and his grip on you -- far too solid for you to even budge under it -- cuts air off your lungs, bringing forth dizziness. It's a struggle to look past the snow and the blur brought by the consistent lack of air, though the one confronting you doesn't allow you to so much as close your eyes again, as if obliging you to stay awake and listen to every word he has to say. "Regrettin' this already? Shoulda listened to Tori if ya didn't wanna end up 'ere with me." He chuckles and loosens some of his hold on you, shoulders drooping as he does so. "I almost feel bad with how plain one-sided this fight's been. Wasn't aware humans could be this weak."

"Wh- What do you mean?" 

Finally having some sense of reality return to you, you read around to view a vast, snowy forest -- similar to Snowdin's pathways. It's all a white, grey, and green landscape, until you look down to see a bit of bright red staining the floor. The gloved hand holding you still is also stained, and -- when you gain full consciousness of where you are -- you notice how sticky your upper lip is and how sore both your nose and cheek feel. Your glasses lay cracked nearby, yet he steps on them when you attempt to pick them up; the snicker that follows when he breaks them spikes ire into both your body and mind. "What... What are we doing back here?" you ask, dour tone making it come off as a demand. "And did you really just punch me? What did I ever even do to you?!"

His grip on you weakens as he bursts into a fit of loud laughter, echoing restlessly against the stark emptiness of your surroundings, the only exception being the rows and rows of pine trees laid about. When he recovers and faces your gaze, you notice it's not the same expression as of the Sans you met back at the train station. Whatever warmth was once present in the white of his irises isn't there any longer, and a vicious, wrathful look overcomes his face. He scoffs and replies with, "The hell? Are ya playin' dumb with me, pal? Or did ya hit your head too hard in the fall?" He grabs you by the collar again and drags you back down on the snow; he then lets go and holds your chin after, forcing you to stare up at him. "Just give it up and turn yourself in, if ya really want this to end quicker. You're wastin' my time 'ere."