"How rude, not even gonna ask for a name??" He teased. "Why are you here?" You glowered, raising the whisk. The skeleton scoffed: "Well, glad you asked sweetums! Name's Sans, Sans the skeleton." - Y/N, a ritzy waitress at Grillby's is plucked from her world of pancakes and Orange juice into the gun-slinging, smoke-breathing lap of one of the most fearsome dons in the city. Escape from him- let alone the King's Service that now hunts her down? I don't think so. **SMUT WARNING TO ALL THE UNDERAGE POTATO PATCH CHILDREN!!** - TRANSLATIONS WELCOME, JUST ASK MY PERMISSION FIRST - #1 in: sansxreader. 10th of May.