Can I take you to Dinner? Mafi-fell!Sans x Reader. [COMPLETED]

Captive Stage

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The King's service. An assortment of what remained of the king's guard and their top capos. At the top sits Asgore, respective King, rather Don of the group. To this day, he mourns over the loss of his wife while only few know the truth of the events that occurred between them.

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You had learnt in the span of an hour, sitting down at the breakfast table that: A rival gang was after your head for whatever reason, that you would be accommodated in Sans's room permanently for protective purposes, (Sans grinned at that) and that you were under the protection of a major gang. And here I was thinkin' they were just noodle-noggined thugs... you thought silently.

Gaster was long since out of the room (as you finally learnt his name), the discussion, ended what seemed eons ago, was still high strung in your mind as you stared mindlessly at the tablecloth, Sans finishing up with his paperwork just as Frisk was finishing clearing up the breakfast plates.

"Aaaannnnddd- We're done sweets!" Sans declared, setting the gold-tip pen down, leaning back into the chair that welcomed his ceased up bones with a collective sigh. You said nothing, too caught up in Assassinations and gangs, rival gangs, security, safe turf and the works. Sans frowned at your lack of response, concerned before he straightened. He had never seen you so helpless before. "C'mon..." he rumbled lowly, rising from the seat, you releasing yourself from his lap to follow suit, him leading you out of the room by the hand. You were too unregistrative to care.

Was this how it was going to be?? Kept in captivity?? With Sans? Forever..? Thoughts of the same caliber tumbled against each other until they reached a ridiculous climax of: 'Oh god, what if I do have to marry Sans for protection?!' 'What if he forces me to?!!' 'I can't marry him! Not with things being how they are!!' 'Why did I listen to Gaster?!' 'I can't do this!!' 'I'll never do this!' 'I can't-!!'

Meanwhile, on the flip side, Sans was having his own freak out, sweating and repeating profanities silently with worry: 'FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK-!!' 'Oh god, what if she doesn't like it here?!' 'What if she tries to escape??' 'I hope we can get to know each other better, maybe she might like it here a little more then...' 'I don't want her to feel trapped.' 'Aw, hell! What if she thinks I'm gonna rape her in her sleep?!' 'I hope not-!!' 'Wait-! I know what to do!'

His face brightened considerably from his thoughtful frown. You thinking that he had finally figured out that he could very well force you to marry him: "Come with me bub." He grinned widely, changing course quickly, going back down through the halls, you on his arm, gulping. He took stock of your frightened face, smirking. "No need to be so damn scared sweets- I just wanna show you somethin'..." He squeezed your hand with a smile.

Sans pumped on through the various halls till he reached a pair of brass doors, intriciate, carved deeply with various arches and fleurs; like the fancy theatre doors you dreamed of since childhood. You looked at him in question, confused before he cleared his throat: "Now, I may've had to.... bribe.... some certain people to get this information..." You raised a disapproving brow: "But I heard that you take an interest in theatre, right??" "You're unbelievable! But your point is??" You asked stiffly, pondering who sold you out.

Sans looked almost nervous under your scrutiny. "Right... well, I, uh.... don't do this often so uh- close yer eyes sweets!" Was he gonna put on a play for you? You couldn't imagine him taking off his head and reciting Shakespeare.... ok, you could. But you still didn't trust him.... Fully. He was still an abrasive criminal in your eyes. With a sigh, your lids hesitantly dropped to a close, Sans waving his hand in front of your eyes before his grin grew eager as he gently, with the utmost care, took your hands in his, his free hand opening the door as he guided you into the dark.