Some wholesome fanart of Baby MK for @theweepingegg of their version for their "The King and His Cub" AU ^^ Based off of this cute video and I imagine Wukong and Macaque are the ones talking in the background ^^
Ma'am. How dare you tell me my friend privilege has been revoked, and not even owo me back. Not even an uwu or OUO. Smh. You're breaking my owoing heart. òwó
But I saw something I can weaponize against you............
In the mood to draw OC so I drew @theweepingegg’s self insert Eddie because I love her character and I’m a big fan of her content!! :D hope you like it!!
Hello, @theweepingegg, twas I who was your Secret Santa for @secretsantafrans this year! I come bearing a fic for you, so Merry Christmas! I hope I did your prompt justice.
If Sans were honest, he would frankly admit that quitting was both an old standard and a bad habit of his. He would like to think, however, in all the years since the Barrier broke and monsters went free, nearly a decade and a half at this point, that he’d gotten better about finishing what he started. Or at least realizing which jobs he should commit to and finish and which were just hopeless.
And this was definitely a lost cause. He didn’t feel a shred of shame as he ditched the bowl in front of him and dug his phone out of his pocket, phalanges flicking through the menus and apps so fast out of habit that it was already ringing by the time he got the phone up to his face. The moment he heard the dialtone switch over to a connection, his grin was stretching wide enough to make his skull hurt. “Hey, stretch.”
“Boneman. Did you fuck up?”
“Oh, I completely fucked it up. Want to help me fix it?”
Laughter on the other end. “Absolutely.”
He waited as he heard them talking to their rommates, telling the others they were leaving, including that pissy little flower that Papyrus had befriended—Frisk refused to ever explain what was up with the little shithead, but one day Frisk went back into the mountains and came back with Flowey sulking in a terracotta pot. The flower hadn’t warmed up to many people even in the years since then, but for Papyrus and Frisk’s sakes, everyone tolerated the flower. Still, it’d been weird to see him look genuinely excited to head to college with Frisk. It was still weird to hear him cheerfully say goodbye before Frisk told him they were ready.
Hanging up the phone, he walked to the nearest door—the pantry door—and stepped out the other side into the common living space of Frisk’s apartment. The other human and reindeer roommates clapped at the trick, while the purple dinosaur looking one that Sans had only met once loudly shouted “dude, what the fuck?!” as he stepped out of the bathroom.
Sans tried to wave politely, and probably failed due to a shit eating grin while the dinosaur kept floundering at his appearance, at the group of them and turned to see Frisk sitting Flowey’s pot down in front of the tv with a game controller. “Call me if you change your mind about wanting me to pick up something,” they said.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just go play kissy face already and get out of my roots.”
Oof. It’s a good thing Sans didn’t blush easy—or, well, at all—because that little comment got chuckles from everyone else. But at least that included Frisk, so Sans thought it was probably just a joke.
Even if he also kinda hoped it wasn’t.
Straightening, Frisk walked over and offered him a hug—nothing new, nothing special just for him, but the deep inhale as they pressed their face into his shoulder felt… Interesting. Promising? Don’t read into it, don’t make it weird, he ordered himself as they pulled away.
Their smile certainly made something bright blaze in his chest, but he kept his smile even as they bluntly told their roommates not to wait up for them before turning back to Sans. “Ready, boneman.”
“Aye aye, captain,” he snapped back with a jaunty grin, took their hand and pulled them into another short cut, not bothering with a door. He heard Frisk laugh as the dinosaur shouted again, but then they were already standing in his kitchen before the sound could linger.
There was a long pause as Sans looked at Frisk as their eyes began to water. At last, they coughed and gagged.
“Ouch,” Sans tried not to laugh as they clamped a hand to their nose. “What, you can tell a disaster that fast?”
“Sans, what did you do?” they asked, voice sounding a little awed as they peered around the kitchen.
“In my defense,” he replied as they kept looking around—the kitchen looked clean, but apparently his crimes weren’t so easily hidden. “In my defense, it’s not like I can smell whatever it is you’re smelling. Why, how bad is it?”
At last, they broke their coughing fit long enough to speak. “I think you’re eggs are rotten.”
Sans blinked. “Eggs can go rotten?”
“Yes, Sans,” they laughed, even as they gagged. “Yes, they can go bad—oh, fuck. What did you put in this bowl?”
“Eggnog,” he answered as he handed them a spoon; they took it and tentatively took precautionary pokes at the bowl and its contents, careful less the contents strike back. “Or, well, it’s mostly eggnog.”
He knew something had to be seriously foul if quiet Frisk was being this chatty. “I thought Undyne’s lessons were what made Papyrus a bad cook. I was wrong.” They abandoned the spoon to gag loudly.
Sans grinned; ah, the joys of not having a stomach or a nose really shown in moments like these. “Careful, if you insult me too much, my evil creation will defend my honor.”
Frisk held up a hand while the other clutched their stomach. “Nope. Can’t do this anymore. It goes, or I go.”
Welp, can’t let that happen. With a twist of a wrist, the window popped open and the contents of the bowl went sailing out, although he remembered not to let the bowl follow, lest he ruin one of the few good punch bowls he and Papyrus had left. He gestured it to the sink and then let the cold tap run, filling it to help wash away the foul odor. Hopefully, none of the neighbors would notice the smell before it had time to waft away, especially since he’d just tossed that into the front yard instead of the back. Oh well, hindsight being twenty-twenty and all that.
Finally, Frisk seemed to be able to breathe, although their ability was hampered by the fact they were now laughing. They leaned against him, bent quite a bit to rest against his shoulder—despite the fact that the counter was just as readily available, he was happy to note. “That,” they managed, “would have been hilarious to take to the Giftmas party.”
“What, are you saying you regret making me toss it out now?”
They shook their head. “No. It’d have been an act of war if we did.”
He forced himself not to give himself away by shrugging too nonchalantly. “Hey, I only followed the recipe I got from a video.”
“A video,” Frisk repeated, huffing, as they straightened—although! They kept a hand on his shoulder, switching from a steadying grip to a companionable drape of the whole arm. It felt cozy as they fanned the air in front of their face, trying to clear away any lingering smells. “A video how to make chemical warfare?”
“It was eggnog,” he insisted, trying to look thoughtful and not cheeky as he craned his head away. “Although, maybe adding the liquors didn’t help.”
Frisk froze, and not in a fun way like he’d hoped. “This wasn’t for the official Giftmas party?”
Sans blanched, realization dawning. “Oh, fuck no. I wouldn’t do that to Tori.”
Frisk sighed in relief and they both tried to ignore the awkward pause trying to form—as much as they both adored Toriel in their own ways, it was a fact that she had briefly had a drinking problem. It’d made for a bad time as everyone finally realized what was going on and tried to help the former queen with her dawning alcoholism. Luckily, even she realized she didn’t like what drinking did to her, so alcohol was banned at parties where she or any former alcoholic would be. Monsters really made for the best, most supportive friends Frisk liked to say and even Sans felt genuine pride in that.
The human gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Alright then,” they began, sounded considerably happier, “forget that video.” With their grip firm on his shoulder, he was happy to let them tow him to the sofa and all but drag him into their lap. He’d barely got his back settled against their front, when they had their phone in his face. “We’ll find a new one.”
Funny, he thought torn between freezing up and letting himself slump into their warmth. Funny, he tried again, but the thought again went nowhere while his mind raced and Frisk’s breath brushed hot against his jaw.
Frisk, meanwhile, hardly seemed to notice his dilemma, calmly searching through videos, flipping through eggnog recipe tags. Finally, they settled on a longer video and Sans almost convinced himself to pay attention to the video when they spoke. “Sorry.”
He blinked, instantly forgetting the video as he craned his head around. “For what?”
“Feels like I made you uncomfortable,” they mumbled.
Two thoughts shot through his mind in quick succession. First was oh shit oh no I made them sad and then the second was oh it’s just not fair how they can look so good like this. Sternly shaking himself, he forced his body to relax as he grabbed their arms and pointedly pulled them around himself, as if to cocoon his body in their embrace. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I got the comfiest seat in the house. I just,” he began, faltered, and then reluctantly admitted “I just figured that I’m not exactly the most comfortable one to… snuggle with.”
For a long moment, Frisk said nothing and Sans quietly began to panic that maybe they were going to shove him away or dump him over the side of the couch for not even having the decency to lie well. All he could do was sink further against their front and lock their arms around him in place.
Finally, they chuckled and flipped to a different video. “Skeletons are the cuddliest of monsters,” they mumbled against the side of his skull.
Sans let out a laugh, resting his head against their cheek. “I’ll let Papyrus know you think so. He’ll be excited.”
“Mm,” they hummed thoughtfully, flicking through another video. “What if we made punch instead?”
“No,” he answered almost too fast, arms still holding theirs in place. “Eggnog for sure. Even if it takes all night to find a good video.”
“All night?” Was that teasing in their voice? For once, he was glad to hear it. Hoped for it.
He cleared his nonexistent air pipe and hoped this sudden feeling of boldness didn’t backfire on him. “Maybe longer.”
They flicked through another video almost before it had a chance to begin. “Alright then. No giving up until we find one.” They nudged him with one of their arms. “Even if you do fall asleep during it.”
Oof, they did have his number there; still, the thought of falling asleep in their arms was electrifying enough that he thought he might never sleep again—or at least not for that night. He gave their arms a squeeze. “We’ll just have to find out.”
They tucked themself in around him, warm and real and oof, maybe he could actually get comfy enough to sleep. “Let’s,” they said, finally settling on one video.
The eggnog they would make later would be powerful enough to get even Asgore feeling tipsy and distracted—distracted enough that none of the rest of the partygoers noticed the pair sneak off, a sprig of mistletoe making a good enough excuse if they got caught kissing with holiday cheer. But for right now, Sans and Frisk curled up on the sofa, cozy as could be.
