The Queen's service Au!Sans' x Reader {SEQUEL}

Enemy

—

He drifted across the streets aimlessly, looking desperately out of his element as he ping-ponged to and fro, getting a majority of accidental shoves and stomps. Wandering. Wandering.... and— yeah, he had no clue where he was. With a quick "Fuck." from under warmed breath, his finger went to trail the crack in his skull. He knew the crack was no longer there, repaired with his resurfacing but it still brought him comfort. He stood still, agog on a concrete strip, cursing his innate lack of direction. He looked to his left, his right— where a person tapped the rooted screen. Sans watched on as the aggressive typing continued, an icon through a maze of white tunnels appearing. The person muttered to themselves- like one would when dabbling in the art of crippling anxiety— hushed and flighty, running their finger along the system before giving the machine a nod, scurrying away.

Sans watched them leave before shuffling forwards curiously. He eyed the lit glass, an astonished frown settled across his features. He bared his teeth, as if trying to intimidate it before pressing it. A shot of white light appeared- a virtual keyboard now in front of him. He stepped back, shocked before he furrowed- pressing keys thuggishly. The letters he produced vaguely resembled your name, (English was never Sans' strong suit) typed into the location bar.

No results found.

Sans gritted, backspacing to the point of denting the poor machine to instead type: 'Where is (y/n)??' It buffered for a moment, Sans hopeful until—

No results found.

(Y/N)

.............

Did you mean: 'Queen of the monsters'?

Sans inhaled. Deeply— a bone impaled the glass, the machine giving a last sad fizzle of life before it hissed, circuitry melting. He watched it die it's painful death before turning with a small, irate grunt. He was lost, semi-cold and hungry as fuc— as if a beacon from the heavens, Grillby's classic orange neon lighting called to him from across the street in a hazy beckon. Good food and the location of a patiently-waiting wife who he'd proceed to smother in his affections-?? His grin maxed like a credit card, making his way over the roaring traffic.

"Maybe the surface ain't all that bad..."

—

It still made no sense to you.

The conversation was on its fifty-seventh repeat in your brain- a new record as you paced your room. Why wouldn't he want the throne? What Prince wouldn't want his father's throne? It just didn't make sense to you. Part of you felt guilt-ridden, fearful he had come to exact a right revenge. Only he didn't. Why? You flopped in a jumble of limbs against your mattress. There was no easy way of simply forgetting him. Even after he asked for you- his father's murderer- permission for his admission into the royal guard. He should be asking your permission to throw you in the dungeons-!! Black stripes crossed his cheeks like slashed warpaint. Eyes narrow, head held up pridefully- it baffled you. He was a leader- he looked like a leader! More than you ever did! And the thing that got to you the most- was that he said the throne suited you. You first thought it as a threat, but seeing the way he smiled- it were as if he meant it.

Papyrus. Papyrus the chronic protector and professional third wheel at any given event— he didn't say a word through any of it. Now you KNEW something was up, he always had a smart, snide snip with his tongue! Before you could relapse into another happy-hour round of worry, you felt a weight settling at the end of your bed. "You seem tense." Blue chuckled, (you thought the nickname suited him) leaning back to peek at you, grinning. Things had become- somewhat less awkward between you, leaving it only... semi-awkward. "You have no idea." You muffled from your mattress, earning an amused smile. "C'mon Princess, lets get you some fresh air-" he sighed as he rolled you over onto your side with a grin that made your cheeks warm. NO— not thinking about that- not thinking about that— his teeth parted curiously, almost concerned.

Your gaze honed in on the canines that had brushed past your neck only mere nights ago— NO—!!! No no no no no no no no no—! (A.N: Mamma Mia, mamma mia- mamma will you let me go-?? XD Sorry, QUEEN has a special place in my heart and playlist. U w U) He only stared at you, as if trying to figure you out from your crab-like position before he smiled, tugging you upwards.

"C'mon! Grillby's has a good deal today—!"

—

"Oh- yeah, she was just here a second ago- she's gone."

"WHAT-?!!" Sans roared, slamming his boney hands onto the glossy counter to which a weary Grillby only sighed despairingly at, prying away the thick phalanges to swipe at the marks with a cloth. "Listen, I'm trying to run a restaurant here- I'm not having you about scaring my customers-!!" Sans scoffed. "Looks like someone finally grew a pair!" "Yeah, no thanks to you— I lost so many customers during the 20's-!! Then the stock market crashed and I—!!" "Listen. Where is she?" Grillby blinked as well as he could- which was not at all. "Did- did you not just—??" "Where is she?" Grillby sighed, there was just no fighting a bull-headed Sans... "She left a few minutes beforehand," "You told me it was a second ago!!" "IT'S A FIGURE OF SPEECH—!! WILL YOU LET ME FINISH?!!" Grillby screeched, rooted in place. Sans grunted. "Well-?!" He growled expectantly.

Grillby only began to polish the counter despite the customers roaring impatiently from behind Sans in the line. "She's with Blue- not romantically from what I know but he definitely has interest in her. Won't stop talking about her." Sans gritted, phalanges clenched to an extreme. "And you just LET this happen?" He growled lethally, Grillby scoffing as he continued to rub the polish in. About to speak, he lifted his head as the line shouted profanities- unable to possibly wait for their orders. Grillby turned to Sans, motioning towards the crowd. "Could you...?" "QUIET-!!!" Sans bellowed ferociously, Grillby looking as impressed as one could with flames for a face. Hush fell across the restaurant. "Thank you." Grillby then cleared his throat. "Listen, I don't know where they were headed but if you run down the right lane you're sure to spot em'." He smiled, a faint, blazing line that would've easily been lost to the naked eye.

Sans beamed toothily. There was a chance. He took a disturbed Grillby by the shoulders: "Grillby— I could kiss ya-!!" "I would rather not." Without so much as a goodbye, Sans barrelled across the restaurant. A lean frame appeared in the doorway, blocking the light like an extremely thin cardboard cut-out that jutted out at odd angles. "I am here on the warranted search for the Quee- YOU-!! Halt! By my authority you shall stop—!!!" Papyrus screeched, standing himself as Sans shoved past bluntly. "Yeah, sure- whatever you say bro—!" Papyrus watched him leave as he fumbled, flabbergasted that he- he was stood down.

This was unacceptabl—

Sans raced down the side street, broad shoulders jousting people out of the way left and right. He already lost you once- or twice— but he wouldn't ever lose you again. And he wouldn't loose to some cad copy of his either-!! Tryin' to steal his wife... bah-!! Good luck to the poser! If there were one thing he was certain of- it was that his wifey's heart always belonged to him. That much would never change.

Right?

The backs of a gleaming skull and a crown-donned head came into view- the two seemed to be chatting amongst each other, laughing the same way you both used to. Sans wanted to shout out but was frozen in place, everything rolling back into perspective. Every insecurity, every doubt- locked snugly into his skull, hooking itself in like a leech. He had been gone for that long, would you still want him like he wanted you? Heck, did you even still love him? His sockets widened a fraction at the thought.

Did you...?

...........

"(Y/N)-!!!"