You are going to hate me for this, but can I get a Sans x reader starting with "According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly." 

Summary: sans won’t stop bringing memes into the relationship.you want to stop him. and you do.

Pairing: Sans x Reader

Notes: i just rly wanted fluff ok. 

"according to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly."

HEY! Since it’s fanfic friday, can you do one with UT Sans and the “enemies to lovers” trope? it can just be a few scenes where the relationship changes. u dont have to ofc but idk i really like those kinds of stories :‘0c

Summary: You’re an enigma wrapped in a mystery, and he’ll do anything literally) to get you to solve yourself. (Or the obligatory fic wherein sans goes from wanting to dunk you to wanting to kiss you)

Notes: AAAAAAAA?????? AAAAAA. Mcfrickin. Love this trope. Bless u. blessed prompt. i had too much fun writing this help.

Writer: Mod Chrissu

The first time he meets you, it’s weird as hell to him.

Firstly, you are probably the best looking human he’s ever laid eyes on. Your hands are balled up and pushing into your hips, your head craned to look up with a sneer at somebody much taller than you.

When he sees who it is, the attraction that he felt immediately was replaced with intense anger.

His brother is holding a grocery basket, one that he knows isn’t his because it’s completely barren of any type of pasta or sauce. His grin is a little shaky, as if he’s apologetic, but also scared. There’s a few food items on the floor that are lying abandoned, so he assumes that the basket must have overturned in some way and Papyrus went to help you. So why did your expression hold so much fury?

He mosies on over, hands stuffed in his pockets. He’s gonna start out calm and cordial, and hopefully this human won’t give him a reason to dunk them into next Saturday. “hiya. what’s up?” He greets, keeping his tone relaxed and chipper, hoping that this goes well.

“SANS!” The way his brother says his name, almost in relief, makes his opinion of the human drop even further. “HELLO, BROTHER!”

You turn to face Sans, your face portraying annoyance. If it wasn’t for the fact that you looked like you had a problem with his bro, Sans might have considered using a sly pickup line. But no, you open your mouth and erase that possibility. “Oh, he’s with you?” You imply, pointing to the taller skeleton, who’s fidgeting nervously.

His grin turns a little steely. He doesn’t like to see Paps so scared. “yeah. s’there a problem with that?”

“Maybe. Anyways, listen here, dudebro.” Attention aimed at Papyrus again, mouth twisting into a scowl. “I got this. I don’t need somebody swooping in and saving me.” You rip the basket away from Papyrus and bend down to pick up the food on the floor, eyes widening when you see the damage done. “Damn it, the cans are dented!”

“listen buddy, i’m sure you’re just misunderstanding–” His patience is wearing very thin but an agitated sigh cuts him off.

“Look, buddy, I already had to walk all the way here because my piece of shit car broke down, I don’t need some random guy telling me off.” Your body language radiates don’t fuck with me today, and he doesn’t really understand why. “I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood.” Food retrieved from the ground and in the basket, you straighten up and give both he and Papyrus a pointed glare. “Now if you’ll excuse me, which I don’t really care if you do or don’t, I have to replace these cans.”

Without letting him speak, you turn on a heel and stomp out of the aisle, leaving him in dumbfounded silence. What the hell was your problem?

—

The next time he sees you, it’s without you knowing.

It’s been a few days since what happened in the grocery store, and frankly he’d be fine with never seeing your face again. Somebody so filled with negativity and hatred for others for no reason…He doesn’t like people like that. He’s glad he’ll never see you again.

(Except he does.)

He hears a scream before he sees the blur of a person being tossed out onto the sidewalk a few houses down from where he’s standing. He almost runs over to help until another human shows up. They step out onto the steps angrily, if their rigid posture and antagonistic stance is any factor.

“Get the fuck out, you waste of space. Don’t even know why I bothered with you. You’re nothing but shit.” They spit out.

“Nonono, no please, I’ll be better, don’t do this please–” The voice is so full of fear and regret, and it’s so familiar. He knows that voice. It stirs a forgotten anger in his chest, and finally he registers that it’s you, the human from the grocery store.

Your clothes are ripped in places, there’s bruises all over your arms, the shirt you have on is riding up and showing off even more bruises on your back and sides. Your knees are scuffed from your fall, and you’re barely keeping your torso up off the ground. Your form is shaking, soft sobs emitting from your mouth. What a moment to be observing you. To avoid being seen, he ducks behind a nearby trashcan.

“You were lucky, you had me to love you! I’m probably the only person on this Earth left that actually gives a fuck about you! None of your friends or your family actually care, they’re faking it!” The human on the steps barks, and he notices a glint from their hand. They throw it in your direction, and the bottle shatters on the ground a few feet away from you, pieces scattering all over the pavement. “Get the hell out of here, you damn slut!”

The human on the steps goes back into the house and throws out a bag of clothes before slamming the door. Sans turns away from the scene, expression a mixture of shock and confusion. He has no idea what to think. Obviously, the dude that just kicked you out is an asshat, but did you deserve it? He’s not the kind of guy to wish pain or suffering on anybody else, so no, he supposes you don’t. He goes to pick himself up off the ground.

Except you pass by. You notice him there. It’s silent for one scarily long moment.

“How much of that did you see?” You inquire roughly, voice cracked from crying. A pang of pity ripples through his SOUL.

“…all of it.”

Your face is unreadable, you just grip the bag you have a little harder. It’s plastic, so your fingers sink into the material like clay. “…Fuck off.”

He looks up at you in surprise. “what?”

“I said fuck off.” You hiss, your glare piercing. “Want to know why I got kicked out? One of the cans I brought home from the store, that your idiot brother made me drop? It was dented. So fuck you, fuck your brother, fuck everything.” You grit your teeth and march off, pulling the bag over your shoulder.

He scrambles up and after you, though a tiny inner voice questions his motives. What is he gonna do? You obviously don’t want to see him, your little proclamation proved so, so why is he chasing you? He squashes down the thought, unsure if he wants to know why.

“look, kid, i’m sorry.” He skids in front of them, chest heaving with the extra effort he put into catching up with them. “i don’t understand your attitude, or why you act the way you do, but acting that way isn’t going to change anything.”

“You know nothing about me, why the hell are you trying to do here?” You snap, dropping your bag. Despite being bloody and scratched and obviously injured, you still stand as if you’re super girl about to face off with her greatest enemy yet. 

“i have no idea. i don’t really know.” He almost whispers it, because he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, or why. “but i don’t want to be the reason you hate the world so much. at least let me help you find a place to stay for a bit.”

Your mouth twists, and a range of emotions flip through your face: confusion, anger, sorrow, and finally it stops on that flat mask you had on. “..Okay, fine.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief.

—

He finds you a hotel to stay in, and while he wouldn’t usually pay for a stranger’s stay, he does for you. Seeing the person you had to deal with, the way they treated you…Something told him that wasn’t the only time they treated you badly. That’s a scary situation to think about, so of course you would be bitter and angry. He pays for a week, hoping it’s enough time for you to figure out what you need to do or for you to get a job.

He escorts you to your room, and it’s quiet but it isn’t uncomfortable. You’ve been through a lot, he guesses, so talking about it right now would be a little much. Instead, as you both reach your room, he asks to come in for a moment.

Puzzled, you agree, and let him in. It’s a small room, with a dresser pushed against the wall adjacent to the doorway, a lamp in the corner, and a bed opposite the dresser. Another door is in the far corner, which Sans assumes is the bathroom. There’s a table beside the bed, and on it is a pad with paper and a pen.

He picks them both off and scrawls his name and number on it, ripping off the page and giving it to you. “the dude that kicked you out looks like another bad time waiting to happen, so if he shows up here, don’t be afraid to call me, ok?” 

The hand that takes the paper is a little shaky. Your eyes skim over the words written, and the corner of your mouth quirks. “’Sans’? Like the font?”

He shrugs. “i get that a lot. anyways, i need to get back, paps is worried probably.” He points to the paper in your hand, shooting you a reassuring smile. “remember, dude’s a bad time. call me if he comes back. or call if you need help in general. seeya.”

With a blip, he’s gone, and you stare at the space (now replaced with air) he was just in. The most dumbfounded look creases your brow.

“…What the fuck did he just do?!”

—

Funnily enough, after the incident, he cannot stop thinking about you. He passes the place you used to live every day, and when he does he wonders if you’re okay. He’d check on you, but he did say that if you had a problem to call him. So he leaves the situation be, letting it be in your ballpark. If you need him there, you’ll call.

It’s been a long day, so he decides to go to Grillby’s for some ketchup and conversation. It’s been a while, and he hasn’t visited the surface expansion of Grillby’s very much, so he should fix that.

He teleports just outside the entrance and strolls in to a chorus of greeting from the regulars. Doggo, Greater Dog, and Lesser Dog are wrapped up in a game of poker, with Dogamy and Dogaressa watching on the side and holding each other. There’s a couple humans hanging around, along with a few monsters that didn’t usually frequent the establishment underground milling about. He waddles to the bar and hops into a bar stool, leaning on the counter and sighing, eyes shut.

“heya grillbz, what’s cookin’ good lookin’?”

A snort is his answer, but it sounds nothing like his favorite fire elemental.

He opens up an eye to see you, clad in a button up dress shirt with black slacks, an apron tied around your neck and waist. You look nothing like you did that night, which relieves him so much. There’s a hit of yellow and purple on your hands from the bruises you sustained, he notices, as you clean out a glass with a towel. Your nose is scrunched up from the bad joke he made, a small smile lighting up your face and causing a soft hue of blue to blossom on his face. 

“kid? that’s you?” He asks, opening his eyes fully, now very alert. 

“’Kid’ is not my name, but yeah, it’s me.” You also throw in your name, since you’ve neglected to tell him. Wow, your demeanor has changed completely since the grocery store fiasco, and it’s such a breath of fresh air. It’s nice to see you smile, even if it is a smug smirk.

“well damn, you clean up nice. how ya been doin’? i’m assumin’ the guy hasn’t been bothering you?” At the mention of him you tense, which leads him to backpedal, “wait, shit, sorry–”

“It’s fine! It’s fine.” You cut him off, the smirk having been wiped off your face and replaced with a small frown. “They uh, haven’t been bothering me. Haven’t heard a word from them since what happened.”

He relaxes at this. “good, good.” He breathes, slumping against the counter again. 

“…What can I get ya, Sans?” You ask, setting down the glass you were cleaning and propping your arm against the bar, quirking a brow at him. It’s sassy as hell and it isn’t helping that you’re gorgeous.

“your number.” He realizes what he said in the middle of saying it and slams his face into his palm as you laugh. “…i am so sorry. i’m used to crackin’ jokes like this with grillby.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. What do you really want, though?”

Bless you and your nerves of steel. “uh, bottle of ketchup.”

An incredulous look crosses your face, but you grab one and slide it to him anyways. He twists off the cap and tips it back, almost spitting it out with laughter when you choke.

“Sans, the fuck?!” You stammer, and he wishes he could take a picture of your face because it’s so priceless. Maybe your nerves aren’t as solid as he thought.

—

If somebody told him six months ago that he’d fall head over heels in love with a human, and a human that initially hated his innocent soul of a brother no less, he’d laugh and call them crazy.

Thinking about it now, it’s not as crazy as it seemed. 

Because with every laugh and smile he gets from you, his SOUL thuds a little more forcefully in his chest, his face a touch blue-r, and he finds himself trying so hard to get them out of you that he doesn’t notice how deep he’s getting into this.

He doesn’t notice until his brother does.

“goin’ to grillby’s, want me to bring you back somethin’ paps?” He asks, sticking his head into the kitchen. Papyrus isn’t as oblivious as everyone believes him to be, and he proves it now as he smiles knowingly at his older brother, which only causes said brother to raise a brow bone in silent question.

“BROTHER, YOU SEEM TO BE GOING TO GRILLBY’S A LOT IN THESE PAST FEW MONTHS.” Papyrus stops stirring the pot of noodles he’s attending to on the stove to look at his brother. He notices, but it’s not like Sans makes an effort to hide it. He can see it in the way that he smiles sometimes when he gets a text from you, or how excited he is when he knows he’s about to see you.

He know what Sans looks like when he’s obsessed about something, or worried, or determined. Papyrus thought he’d seen it all. You’ve brought out a different side of him that Papyrus loves to see, because he look so happy nowadays.

“yeah, so? i used to go everyday when we were underground.”

“SANS, DEAR BROTHER, NOTHING EVADES THE WATCHFUL EYE OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” He exclaims triumphantly, pulling out his best smile. “…I am happy for you, Sans. I hope you bring them by soon to introduce them to me, because I would like to thank the person who has given you so much joy.”

It’s a rarity when Papyrus speaks in a regular volume of voice, and it shocks Sans to his core. “whaddya mean, pap?”

Papyrus laughs, turning back to his pot. “OH BROTHER, DON’T TELL ME YOU HAVEN’T NOTICED!”

“im-pasta-ble, i notice everything.” Sans’ smile turns wicked as Papyrus screeches out a warning to him and then he blips out of the way of the taller’s wooden ladle being thrown at him.

—

It’s become a habit, for him to watch you as you work. The way you move around the tables at the restaurant, the polite smile you give to the customers and the drastically different smirk you send him when he tosses out a pun, the lingering touch between you two when you give him a ketchup bottle. 

It kills him, in a way, because he knows what he’s feeling. He knows very well what this feeling is. His love life isn’t a very active one, but he does remember a few years back when he used to have a crush on Toriel, and this feels like that except new. It’s no longer a nice thought, but a fire that consumes his thoughts whenever he sees you. It’s not the heat of the blush on his face, it’s the ghostly imprint that your fingers leave on his. His SOUL doesn’t flutter, it beats purposefully. He knows what this is.

However, it’s not him that says or does anything about it.

As your shift comes to a close and he prepares to leave, you stop him. The place is almost empty, just a couple people wrapping up their meals or nursing their last drink. You look nervous, teeth gnawing on your bottom lip.

“what’s up?” He asks, and he almost jumps when you set a hand on ones of his, the one still on the counter top.

“Uh…There uh– There must be something wrong with my eyes, be-because uh–” You clear your throat, and he’s never seen your face go so red, wow. “Because I can’t take them off you?…”

He pauses for a moment before the statement processes through his head and his face goes full cerulean. “uuuuuuhh….”

“What…What I’m trying to say– Is it hot in here? Jeeze.” You tug at your collar, smiling sheepishly. “But uh. I was wondering if maybe you’d like to, I dunno, go see a movie? Or go somewhere for coffee? I’m sorry, I just really, really like you and I couldn’t be quiet about it anymore–”

You stop when you notice his expression. The poor skeleton’s face is completely blue, and his pupils have morphed into tiny hearts. He grabs your hand gently, and before he can chicken out he sputters out a reply.

“yes, hell yes. i’ll uh, i’ll text you later?”

It’s take a moment to sink in but when it does you smile so wide that it triggers his own. “Yeah! That’s cool! I’ll uh, be waiting? Yeah.”

Reluctantly he lets go of your hand and waves with his other, before disappearing and reappearing at the entrance of the inside of his home. 

You asked him out. You asked him out. He’s so giddy, he struts farther into the house and laughs, and it’s such a happy sound. He’s never heard such a sound come out of his body.

“YOU SOUND PLEASED.” Papyrus notes from his spot on the couch in the living room, wherein he’s doing some sort of human exercise program. Sans just beams in reply, hopping up the stairs two at a time to get to his room. “WHAT’S HAPPENED?”

Papyrus knows. He just wants to hear Sans say it.

UNDERTALE

SANS

He’s gone through all this pain, all this suffering to get over you. And you’re not actually dead. Something inside him knew, knew you weren’t gone, but he figured it was his subconcious trying to make him feel better. If you thought he was clingy and loving before, take that and multiply it by 5. He never, ever wants to lose you again.

UNDERFELL

SANS

i might actually draw someth from this it’d be super cute and pretty aaaa ~Mod Chrissu

UNDERTALE

SANS

He actually really likes it?? Every once in a while he actually begs for you to draw it on him again, even going as far as to offer his arms to draw on when you have no more room. It’s a common appearance for him to be covered in elegant designs, and he loves it. It’s like saying he’s yours in a way, and this dude would gladly shout it from the rooftops if you’d let him.

PAPYRUS

He’s fine with it, until he cleans it off. You have no idea how hard it is to scrub off marker on bones, it’s a lot harder than it seems. But he likes to watch you do it, you make really cute expressions and it makes you happy so!

UNDERSWAP

SANS

Thinks it’s the coolest thing ever! Absolutely insists on having it everywhere, arms, legs, back of his head. Please make this lil blueberry pretty, he loves seeing your art so much.

PAPYRUS

Actually tries to emulate what you do to him on you. He’s not an artist in any way, but his effort means a lot. It doesn’t end up that bad, actually. He isn’t a selfie guy but he takes a bunch with you, with a bunch of kisses to your face. It’s teeth-rottingly sweet, lemme tell ya.

UNDERFELL

SANS

If he has patrols, he demands you wipe it off him, but if it’s his day off, he’d happily wear it all day. He especially likes when you smother him in kisses and the marker is all over your mouth and it’s smeared all over his skull. It makes him smile.

PAPYRUS

Welcome back! I was curious if you could write about more about Mafia/MobTale. Specifically, how sans (yes sans again sorry) and his S/O met. Perhaps while sans was on a job, he was in jail, or his S/O found him after the cops or another gang got to him? Thank you for your consideration! Have a lovely time writing!

my part mafia!sans x reader fics (which are linked sorta): x x

summary: the last thing you expect to walk into your little ice cream parlor was a gruff, scratched up skeleton who just wanted a scoop of lemon meringue. the events that occur after, however, are even less expected.

notes: ya’ll seem to like mafia!tale fics, which is cool. if i write inaccurate stuff tho lemme know.

pairing: reader x sans

The tinny bell of your small ice cream shop tinged, signalling a customer.

“Hold on a moment!” You called, bent behind the counter. You weren’t expecting anybody at this hour, but there were the odd few that came during the night, wanting a fix of ice cream after a long day. Which you didn’t mind. It’s why you opened the place, after all.

You straightened and put on a smile to greet the customer, only for it to quickly drop in shock when you see who it is.

So for fanfic Friday, how about us sans with an s/o in a band who just came back home from tour

pairing: sans x reader

summary: touring the world is fun, but when you see the small, blue scarf tied around your wrist...you finally feel like you’ve seen enough. it’s time to go home.

notes: oh my gosh i love writing the blueberry. he is. so pure. i love him.here u go sweet anon i give you fluffs.

You originally planned to tour throughout the winter and late into spring. 6 months of nonstop travel, to Europe and Asia, When you found out, you were extremely excited. You could take Sans with you, and show him everything he hasn’t seen with his own eyes yet! The thought of the childlike skeleton, of his joy as he’d see the world...You wanted to give him so much more, and this will do for now.

Summary: well it’s a bit weird to find your rescuer smokin’ hot, isn’t it?

Pairing: sans x reader

notes: i went ahead and did this one just to see how i could manage, but imma be for real. it was hard to write, since i’ve lost my house to a fire back in january and it was sorta?? bringing back a lot of bad memories?? but i didnt want to leave ya hanging, so here. i hope you enjoy it!

You stared, your wide eyes watering behind your mask in the smoke filled air, as the short skeletal figure lounged on a burning sofa and ignored the disbelieving firefighter standing before him.