Sansmate, Vol 1: Ain't nothing like the Wicked

How Far Would You Go?

FreshSans x FemReader

(The living room is filled with the sounds of a struggle. Magic powers up, only to dissipate. Bodies thud to the floor and all three voices yelp in various protests. On the TV, the extended 12 min version of 'I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won'tDo That)' plays.
Finally, all goes quiet except for the song. Panting a bit, Para untangled himself from the mess of ink splattered couch remains.
"Peebs, you gonna watch this with me, no matter what~!" PJ glares at him from an explosion of pillow stuffing.
"....And you owe me a new couch...." Ink crawls out from under half of the coffee table.
"....pretty sure he owes you more than just a couch...."
Para waves a hand, and the song fades into the background as he settles himself on the floor. Ink scoops together enough fluff to get comfortable, and pulls his cell out of his pocket when it chimes at him.
"....i got a message from their ink, he says he's gonna help again. mostly because of what happened to the soul?" He looks questioningly at Para, who gives him a Temmie smile.
"We gonna have some family abusive situations, and there's a bit of a surprise with the soul in this one~....." He pushes play....)

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The hall was beautiful. Flowers and ribbons clutched and draped between columns shined and polished. The carpet was soft, but not too plush. People shuffled and talked in quiet tones, but the seemingly respectful atmosphere was tainted with an undertone of mocking laughter and understanding. Trills and snickers threatened to evolve to outright chuckles and cackles if it weren't for the watchful priest. He seemed to be the only one apprehensive about it all, other than the bride.

Down a hall, behind the closed door of a room where the groom should be preparing to vow his eternal devotion, came the animalistic noises of fucking. Two of the groomsmen stood guard, ensuring no one disturbed the young master. They knew the real reason behind the marriage, just like everyone else.

On the opposite side, with white lace ribbon to line the way, is another closed door. There are voices beyond, one rising in volume to drown out the other until both end in a cry and the crack of an open palm on a cheek. A thud of a body hitting the floor comes next, and the hiss of a threat. The door opens, revealing an older woman wearing a dark gray dress.

"Get yourself up off the floor and cease your crying. This is happening, no matter what! I'm getting hair and makeup in here in ten minutes to fix what you did, and then they will get you in that dress and you will march yourself up that aisle with a happy little smile on your face and Get. Married." The door slams shut, the sound of heels clicking down the polished hall.

You cradle your throbbing cheek in your cool hand, blinking back the tears choking at your throat. Your other hand gently touches around you, for you had heard glass shatter at some point during the argument. Gingerly, you manage to feel your way over to a chair and pull yourself up.

This....will probably bruise...she must be really mad, then. Mama is careful to never hit where it'd be visible....

You hear something by the window, a brush of cloth against the sill. The window was open, allowing a cool breeze scented with honeysuckle and lavender to tickle at your nose. Tilting your head, you open your mouth to test the wiggle of your teeth.