#you're just putting this detail in there for no reason. let them be smart dammit

[incesthemes]

why aren't they ever allowed to know foreign languages. dean can read ancient greek nbd but french and german? no those are just too esoteric. google translate save me

[shyneanon]

I don't know what type of prompts you're looking for, but this idea has been on my mind for a while: swap MfSans and Princess. Where Sans is the one who's sick of mafia life and wants to leave, but his bro won't let him. On top of that, this flirty human woman won't leave him alone, even though he's told her a hundred times his bro will kill her if he finds her hitting on Sans.

Ahhhh an AU of my AU fanfic, that sounds so fun! I’ve been wanting to write this but was having a hard time thinking of the details, but I finally have something done. They’re not completely swapped in personalities or anything, mostly just in their roles in the story, but I hope you enjoy it.

---

Sans didn’t like going for walks.

But it was something Paps insisted on. Several times he’d tried shortcutting to cheat, but Paps always caught him. He was smart. So eventually Sans had given up.

Instead, he would head for the park on evenings when he wasn’t on the job (so to speak), sit there awhile, and then come back. Paps always thought he’d been walking all that time. Sometimes he even got nice cream, and Paps was none the wiser.

As usual, he found a park bench— one that he took up most of the room of— and sat. It was nice to be alone with his thoughts for a while. The park was a lot emptier and quieter at night. No kids. Most people at home with their families.

Their peace-loving, law-abiding families.

Sans did more thinking than most people realized. He had a lot of thoughts and opinions on things, he just… wasn’t very good at expressing them. He didn’t like talking— not even with his brother. Sometimes Paps didn’t really listen to him. That was particularly the case with Sans’ suggestions about how they could get out of the mob. He’d hatched several plans, but Paps told him they were too risky. It was best, he said, that they stay where they had money and power and could live comfortably.

Sans didn’t find the mob life particularly comfortable.

Quite the opposite— it felt stifling. And Paps wasn’t helping. He tried to stop Sans from talking to women— or, fun women, at least— because he had his own idea of what kind of girls Sans should be talking to. Girls in the mob, who were raised to be boring and submissive, and to lie through their teeth to avoid bothering their boyfriends. Being with someone who’d basically been trained like a dog to only do what would make him happy would just make him feel like trash.

Besides, if he married some mob boss’s girl, then there would only be more incentive for them to stay. And he didn’t want incentive to stay.

“Sans?”

Oh shit.

Sans would recognize that voice anywhere. It was so… silky. He looked over and sure enough, there you were, a shopping bag in your hand. Probably having bought a dress for one of those fancy parties folks in the mob loved so much.

Sans hated you.

Well, he hated you because he liked you. You were exactly the kind of girl he didn’t want, and yet at the same time, you were everything he wanted in one… really sexy package.

Talking to you was a really bad idea. So he just tipped the brim of his hat slightly, looking away in an attempt to look uninterested. “Heya, doll.”

Much to his dismay, you sat next to him on the bench and smiled. The way you moved drew attention to your curves…. Were you doing it on purpose?

“It’s good to see you,” you told him. A playful smile. “I was feeling bonely.”

Sans tried— and failed— to stop himself from laughing a bit. Fuck, you were funny too….

“So?” You batted your lashes-- it was clearly playful, but it still made his soul flutter slightly, and he inwardly cursed himself for it. “How are you?”

You were smirking. He was pretty sure you reveled in driving him insane.

“Not as good now that you’re here,” he returned, and you snickered. Why was it cute?

“Aww,” you said. “I’m hurt.”

Sans didn’t reply, just forced himself to look away, despite how much he enjoyed looking at you.

“Hey.”

He turned just a little, raising a brow. You had a massive grin on your face.

“Knock knock.”

He blinked and did his best not to look alarmed. Goddammit, no.

Not a knock knock joke.

“You’re supposed to say ‘Who’s there,’” you teased.

Fine. He would indulge you. The joke probably wouldn’t be that funny anyway. “Who’s there?”

“Nana.”

“Nana who?”

“Nana your business.”

Before he could even try to stop himself he snorted loudly, slapping his knee a little. “That was fuckin’ stupid, doll.”

“That’s why it’s funny.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Aw, c’mon. You agree with me. Admit it.”

Your tone was so smug. Dammit, he was terrible at pretending he didn’t like you, wasn’t he?

“Besides, yours are dumber.” You nudged him. “C’mon, tell me one. You always have some.”

His face grew warm. He wasn’t used to people wanting to hear his jokes. Sure, making people groan was half the fun, but… making you laugh…

After an attempt at a nonchalant shrug, he said, “Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Cash.”

“Cash who?”

“Nah thanks, I prefer walnuts.”

You snorted and gave a giggle. Sans didn’t notice his smile soften. What he would give to make you laugh like that more often….

If only you weren’t in the mob.

He was lost enough in thought that he didn’t notice when you began to slip into his lap, only when you were about halfway in it. It wasn’t inherently sexual, but Sans’ mind was the type to go into the gutter easily, and… His face grew hot, and you raised a brow.

“Oh my, someone gets turned on a bit easily, huh?”

His face only got hotter. “S’just a blush,” he protested.

You clearly didn’t believe him, but you shrugged, still smiling. “Oh, alright. My mistake.”

“Yeah,” he said, furious that his face was still warm. “Yer mistake--”

“I’m sure you won’t mind if I do this then.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your body against his, giving him a wink, and he could feel himself growing warm… somewhere else.

“Y’know my brother wouldn’ be happy if he saw you here like this.” He kept his own hands from touching you, holding them out so that if Paps did suddenly show up for no discernible reason, he would see that Sans was clearly not reciprocating.

“Well too bad for him.” You leaned up, getting closer. “You can make your own decisions.” With a slight purr in your voice, you added, “You’re a big boy.”

You were close enough now that Sans could hear you even when you spoke softly.

“I’m sure there’s all kinds of things a big boy like you could do to a tiny girl like me….”

Why did everything about you… your voice, your body, your eyes… have to appeal so much to his most base instincts…?

And why’d you have to be so… wonderful?

“Just one kiss?” you whispered.

Sans didn’t protest when you pressed your soft, perfect lips against his teeth. In fact, he wrapped both arms around you, returning the affection. Your hands cupped his face and the touch sent shocks of electricity through him. He growled, his more aggressive instincts beginning to surface.

“Baby,” he purred, and you kissed him again, with more fervor this time. His hands went to your waist, and his mind began to slip into an incredibly racy fantasy. “Baby, I’m gonna…”

“You’re gonna what?” you asked, clearly excited.

His mind indulged itself in some very vivid imagery and he thought of a dirty response. He let out a predatory growl again, opening his eyes so he could make eye contact…

And then he realized what he was doing. He paused.

When he didn’t respond, you breathed, “What are you going to do to me, Sans?” and the primal part of him immediately started to dive back into its very explicit daydream, but the logical part of his mind managed to reel the rest of him in.

“I’m gonna… move ya back onto the bench,” he answered lamely, gently pushing you off his lap. Your flushed face (fuck, it was hot) quickly started to return to its usual color and you blinked, looking confused. Still, you complied, and to his surprise, looked away.

“Sorry,” you said. He wanted to tell you that yes, you should be, but instead it took all of his energy not to so much as put a hand on your shoulder. As much as he didn’t want to, he did like you.

Why did he have to like you?

“I, uh… jus’ gotta go, s’all,” he said, standing up. He turned away and tipped the brim of his hat. “See ya, dollface.”

“Actually…”

He looked back over, a brow raised in suspicion, to see that your more mischievous smile had returned. Oh, what now?

“It’s getting dark,” you told him, getting up and picking up your shopping bag. “And I think that, being the small and helpless little lady I am… I could use an escort home?”

Sans felt the corner of his mouth quirk up. “Yeah? Worried for your safety?”

“Of course. The city’s big, and full of… unsavory characters.” You put a hand over your heart in mock fear. “One of them could get me, and… do things to me.” Another wink, and a sly smile. Sans struggled not to let himself slip into more fantasies. Thankfully, your mock concern was funny enough to keep him more or less grounded.

“Well,” he said, playing along with a shrug. “We can’t have that. I s’pose it would only be gentlemanly of me to take you home.”

“Yes, it would. And we both know you’re quite the gentleman.”

“Always.” His grin had returned-- in fact, he could swear he was grinning even more than usual-- and he held out his arm. “Madame?”

You locked arms with him, beaming. “Merci,” you said, and he laughed. All thoughts of avoiding you were ignored.

He was too busy having fun to care.