#a kid and seeing the lights through ny child eyes and you know
violentdevotion · 1 year
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chaoticyuna · 1 year
Bakugou Katsuki X Reader
Summary: When you take on the burden to keep the ones living safe, which causes you to become a traitor, but you had to pick a decision, and it cost their trust in you. You reverted to your old violent self. Months later, you find yourself face to face with your old friends. They want you to help them because they know you can handle yourself in this current state of the world. They are still ignorant of the state the world is. They have no idea how more dangerous it has become.
“We are still fucking fighting and won’t stop fighting. If you fucking give up, we lose!”
Previously Chapter ONE; Masterlist
Chapter TWO
Word Count: 1,600+
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Spoiler Alert for Anime watchers: There will be mention of Midoirya’s new quirks that haven’t been introduced in the anime.
Once the four of them have taken a shower and had time to discuss with each other weighing the pros and cons of trusting you. You did have a good record of keeping up with your promises before the incident where you betrayed all of their trust. It’s a tie between trusting you or not trusting you over a deal.
They are gonna reconsider the vote about it, later at night. They are all curious how you became a Mafia boss from just an original teenager who wanted to become a hero. To only become a cold killer and making a name for yourself years later.
They only have heard stories and rumors of the alias you go by.
A masked individual who is widely known for their cold,calculated mind and a heartless killer who didn’t care who gets caught in the crossfire. A leader who rapidly climbing up the ladder in the mafia world during the time of the apocalypse. A leader who became to hold more territory and killing off of other leaders to take their territory and expand their army.
A name alone made your enemies tremble in their boots.
They are hoping to get better judgment, seeing how things are run here.
The young boy that goes by the alias Speedy gave them a quick tour, but didn’t show the whole building due to being confidential from outsiders. He is just following orders. He was taking them to the cafeteria to grab something to eat to only notice where the children were eating all together were pointing at them. Most of them have eyes of admiration and pure awe looking at them.
“They are fans of you guys. They have seen the old video recording of previous sports festivals. We had to keep them somewhat entertained. Glitch got her hands on those old videos.” Speedy explains to continue to eat his soup.
The boys nod, understanding why the kids are so excited to see them in the flesh. It was weird, but somewhat comforting that the younger generation isn’t taught to hate heroes.
“I would keep those degrading comments of Miss Glitch to yourselves because the people who live here aren’t fans of heroes, much less of outsides. I heard you guys arguing earlier outside the room. You weren’t very quiet.” He looks at Bakugou in a way saying you are the loud one, before adding, “Everyone here would not agree on whatever image you decide to picture her.”
“Why wouldn’t they agree? Isn’t she a killer though?” Todoroki is just addressing the tension in the air. Midoriya and Kirishima choked on their food before coughing. They forgot Todoroki still struggles to read the social situations.
“Yes, she has killed many, but it is done to keep everyone safe. At the state of the world, it isn’t run by heroes who never got their hands dirty. It is run by killers because prison doesn’t exist. Who is gonna be the one to put those low lives underneath the ground? You guys never faced the true danger of the current state of the world. You are always protected just because you attend a prestigious school before the apocalypse hit.” Speedy spits out before taking a deep breath and just continues eating his food. His left hand was
“I apologized for his comment. We just have a history of them. It didn’t end on a good note. I know yo-.”
Speedy interrupts Midoriya by slams his spoon on the table before taking a deep breath to recollect himself.
“You don’t know any of our experiences. It was hell before Miss Glitch came to save us and took us in with no judgment. She taught us how to freaking survive by teaching us numerous tools such as self-defense and weapon handling. She never expected anything in return, unlike other mafia groups.”
The sound of a clap pauses the tension being created by five of them. The ex heroes in training look up to see meet the emotionless man covered with tattoos and scars. The same man who was within the room left to the minor from earlier. He placed a hand on top of Speedy head to ruffle his hair.
“Go ahead, eat with your sibling. Take a breather. I will take over making sure these little shits behave.” He removes his hand from his head before taking a seat beside the teenager.
“But-” Speedy was hesitant on leaving his position.
“It’s an order. Spend time with your sibling. Enjoy the night off.” The older man takes out a red apple from his pocket. Speedy stares at the four outside and gives a quick nod before taking his leave.
Bakugou Katsuki was staring at the man with suspicion as if he saw him before this mission. He wasn’t the only one who was thought so. Midoriya recalls those same tattoos, but it must have been a long time ago. He couldn’t easily recall. They were eating quietly until they finished.
“Let’s start ny introducing myself. I am Daichi. I am usually the one who runs this base when Miss Glitch isn’t present. It must have been your lucky day because you would have been tortured to death for trespassing.” The hairs behind their neck rise and getting goosebumps.
They sense malicious by the way he is sounding. Midoriya’s danger senses were activating and going crazy causing him to want to step away from him. It takes him back to when All For One and Stain’s presence.
Daichi’s yellow eyes stare at every one of them as he takes out a pocket knife directs it at Midoriya who was sitting in front of him. “The only reason you four are alive and even getting treated with special treatment is because of Miss Glitch. Step out of line, I wouldn’t hesitate to beat the shit of you wannabe heroes. That’s the only thing. I am allowed to do.” He swiftly put his pocket knife after cutting his apple into six pieces which fall on the napkin. He claps his hands together cutting through the tension for him to drop the act to replace it with a fake smile.
“Anyways comes to my question. What did you talk about with the young boy making them lose their composure?”
He was oblivious enjoying tormenting these wannabe heroes.
Meanwhile, inside the hero’s refuge base where there is a tall metal barrier that runs underneath 20 feet underground.
There was a young man with black hair with his signature scarf, looking at a map looking where to travel to get more food and other resources. They are running out of places to investigate. The last 2 locations were a complete bust. It has been cleaned out completely. He is one of the leaders of the camp where they have stayed safe since the beginning of the apocalypse.
There was a knock on the wall, before someone coming in through the curtains. They pull a chair across from him, before taking a seat. They are twirling it around for them to rest their arms on the top of the chair.
“Aizawa, I can’t believe you took my suggestion seriously.” The young male with the purple bed hair as if he just rolled out of bed, comments. He has a small scar above his eyebrow. He has a few scars on his arms that have grown muscular.
“It was insane, but not outside of the possibilities.” Aizawa laid back in his chair and stares at his former student who is now somewhat a version copy of himself when it comes to fighting styles.
“Do you tell the trio? Whom they are gonna be meeting?” The purple-haired questions, not seeing they would be willing to see a former classmate that so-called became a traitor in their eyes.
“No. They wouldn’t be willing to do it despite us being a tight spot right now when it comes to resources.” Aizawa answers, before ruffling his hair and keeping his eyes closed. He is stressed out and not having a lot of options. They are running low on adults that were pro heroes. They have lost many throughout the apocalypse. Many of them abandon their original mission to save themselves.
The apocalypse revealed the true heroes who aren’t for the money. They are a good amount of pro heroes who got captured by mafia groups to have power. Some of them show over time randomly at their doorstep after being spared by the mask individual Glitch. That’s the only information they are allowed to share about their interaction with Glitch.
Aizawa and the other leaders of the camp believe the individual took them close enough for them to walk to their camp. Aizawa suspects it is one of his former students whom he didn’t have any contract  ever since the infamous incident. Majorly of his students calls them to be traitors.
“I still don’t get why we never told the truth about what actually happened that day.” The purple-haired male looks to the side to see Eri outside away from any harm playing with Kota.
“Hitoshi, It was a quick agreement exchange of keeping our mouths close and follow whatever story they want to make up. She swore to keep her word on securing your guys safe within her presence.” Aizawa applies pressure on his forehead to relieve the headache.
Aizawa remembering back to the U.A dorms where you are smiling and being a normal teenager. The image of that student whom he watched over for months became dark. She was no longer a child, but an emotionless shell of what she should be.
The lifeless eyes staring back at him, covered in bruises and blood that wasn’t her own. She was carrying unconscious Eri. You were bathed by your enemy’s blood. The remaining light of innocence in your eyes had vanished from existence. It only reveals just cold, calculated eyes that were staring at his soul.
I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!
Any thoughts/Feelings/Predictions that you have while out reading this chapter.
I would love to hear them! <3
If you wish to be tagged, do comment down below.
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dontbipanicjonsa · 1 year
Dutiful Sansa Stark
Plus some extra stuff about perceptions and POV traps
Read under the cut-
"No," Sansa said at once. "You . . . you are kind to offer, but . . . there are no devotions, my lord. No priests or songs or candles. Only trees, and silent prayer. You would be bored."
"No doubt you're right." She knows me better than I thought. "Though the sound of rustling leaves might be a pleasant change from some septon droning on about the seven aspects of grace." Tyrion waved her off. "I won't intrude. Dress warmly, my lady, the wind is brisk out there."
He was tempted to ask what she prayed for, but Sansa was so dutiful she might actually tell him, and he didn't think he wanted to know.
He wondered what Sansa would do if he leaned over and kissed her right now. Flinch away, most likely. Or be brave and suffer through it, as was her duty. She is nothing if not dutiful, this wife of mine. If he told her that he wished to have her maidenhead tonight, she would suffer that dutifully as well, and weep no more than she had to.
A true daughter would not refuse her sire a kiss, so Alayne went to him and kissed him, a quick dry peck upon the cheek, and just as quickly stepped away.
"How . . . dutiful." Littlefinger smiled with his mouth, but not his eyes.
She hugged him dutifully and kissed him on the cheek. "I am sorry to intrude, Father. No one told me you had company."
"You are never an intrusion, sweetling. I was just now telling these good knights what a dutiful daughter I had."
"Dutiful and beautiful," said an elegant young knight whose thick blond mane cascaded down well past his shoulders.
That's a lot of dutiful.
On the surface it seems like these two situations- one with Tyrion and one with LF- parallel each other; creepy, older men interested in Sansa think she's too 'dutiful' because she suffers through their attentions. However, when we dig deeper it becomes clear that the two situations actually contrast in subtle ways.
Tyrion calls her dutiful, but what duty is she fulfilling? She actually fails to fulfil her biggest duty to him i.e. having his babies (ew).
Or rather, she refuses to do her duty to him.
"On my honor as a Lannister," the Imp said, "I will not touch you until you want me to."
It took all the courage that was in her to look in those mismatched eyes and say, "And if I never want you to, my lord?"
His mouth jerked as if she had slapped him. "Never?"
Cue me falling ever deeper in love
This is a powerful scene. Tyrion is willing to give her an inch, but she goes and takes a mile. She could have just said "yes, I'll let you know when I want you" and then never let him know, but instead she said that. His plan was to postpone the consummation, but now she’s taken the opportunity to tell him that if she had her way, they would never consummate their marriage. He can still go through with it, but with this one statement (knowingly or unknowingly) she's put the onus of choice on him. He can still touch her, he can still consummate the marriage- but Sansa will never want him to. It’s still her ‘duty’ to suffer through it, but now any future sexual contact between them is undoubtedly in the non-con category.
That doesn't sound like Sansa is just reluctant to do her duty, it sounds like she's rejecting it.
In fact, Sansa is basically never shown to think about her 'duties' as his wife. Eating lunch with him may be her 'duty', but she isn't doing it for that reason. She's doing it because what other choice does she have?
Honestly I'm not sure where he even gets the idea that she's oh-so-dutiful, because as far as I can tell, she's really just doing the bare minimum she can get away with doing as his political-prisoner-child-bride.
Sansa does not, for a single second, give a flying fuck about her duty to Tyrion and I love her for it.
And yet, Tyrion's my-dutiful-wife false belief is what allows her to get away with planning her escape. Tyrion fails to be suspicious of her even when he absolutely should be re: that first quote.
Tyrion likes to think Sansa is dutiful (for some reason).
Sansa is not dutiful.
Sansa doesn't seem to be aware that Tyrion thinks she is, but it works to her advantage nevertheless.
Now in Littlefinger's case she really is playing the dutiful daughter.
This time, fulfilling her 'duty' as his daughter is in her best interest, because it acts as an excuse to avoid what he really wants from her. It's basically the reverse of the Tyrion Situation.
Littlefinger thinks Sansa is dutiful because she is.
She's acting dutiful on purpose (to diffuse his sexual attraction (ew) towards her).
Clearly, it's working to her advantage.
Now, onto the extra stuff-
We have this-
Dontos chuckled. "My Jonquil's a clever girl, isn't she?"
"Joffrey and his mother say I'm stupid."
"Let them. You're safer that way, sweetling.
"The g-g-godswood, my lord," she said, not daring to lie. "Praying . . . praying for my father, and . . . for the king, praying that he'd not be hurt."
"Think I'm so drunk that I'd believe that?" He let go his grip on her arm, swaying slightly as he stood, stripes of light and darkness falling across his terrible burnt face. "You look almost a woman . . . face, teats, and you're taller too, almost . . . ah, you're still a stupid little bird, aren't you?
"There's to be so much, my lord. I have a little tummy." She fiddled nervously with her hair and looked down the table to where Joffrey sat with his Tyrell queen.
Does she wish it were her in Margaery's place? Tyrion frowned. Even a child should have better sense.
Sansa goes under the radar so well in KL because people think she's too stupid to do anything. Again, we see Tyrion, an overall smart guy, fail to be suspicious of Sansa's very suspicious behavior nevermind that she IS a child you asshole because he thinks she's stupid.
People think Sansa is stupid
She's not stupid. We also don't see Sansa actively encouraging that perception, which makes sense because-
she doesn't need to. They do that all by themselves and
she's too busy believing she really is stupid, poor kid
3. It works to her advantage anyway.
Which leads me to-
"I forgot, you've been hiding under a rock. The northern girl. Winterfell's daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leather wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window. But she left the dwarf behind and Cersei means to have his head."
"Your Grace has forgotten the Lady Sansa," said Pycelle.
The queen bristled. "I most certainly have not forgotten that little she-wolf."
"The dwarf's wife did the murder with him," swore an archer in Lord Rowan's livery. "Afterward, she vanished from the hall in a puff of brimstone, and a ghostly direwolf was seen prowling the Red Keep, blood dripping from his jaws."
People thinking Sansa murdered Joffrey with her witchy wolf ways.
She didn't.
I am SO looking forward to see where this goes.
More extra stuff-
This entire post grew out of me obsessing over this post.
It got me thinking that out of the six core characters, Sansa is the most observed one. We see her in real time through the chapters of other POV characters the most. I counted. My count can be up or down by about one or two chapters, but I have Sansa pegged at around 15 chapters, followed by Tyrion at 11, then A*ya (around 9), then Jon (around 8), then Bran (4), and then D*ny (0). This is exacerbated by the fact that Sansa has some of the least number of POV chapters of the 'core six'. This means that-
We see Sansa more (or at more than others) from other POVs than her own. In other words, we get to be in Sansa's head less and in other characters' head thinking about her more (unlike most other main characters).
This plays a BIG ROLE in her POV trap, which is pretty much the opposite of D*ny's POV trap in terms of both what it is hiding and how
Perception and reality play a very obvious and direct part in Sansa's story, both her own perceptions and others' perceptions of her.
The Vale arc changes everything though. Now suddenly-
She's surrounded by an entirely new cast of people
She's the only POV character in the location
She has an entirely new identity with none of the same pre-conceived biases attached (though there sure are other pre-conceived biases that go with her identity)
This has happened with other characters as well (Tyrion in ADWD, Arya in every other book), but the impact it has on our perception of her is unique. It's basically reversing everything her POV trap was previously built on.
Now, she is her own worst critic. Now, the thoughts that other POV characters have of her (Tyrion, Cersei) are increasingly muddled. Is she a murderous sorcerer, or a stupid little girl? Was she dutiful, or a scheming traitor? The correct answer is-
she was none of those things. Everyone is just....trapped by their own PoV?
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tonystarkissist · 1 year
“Didn’t know where else to go”/ Revenge - Villainous July
Part 11 of “Oh Sweet Child, The Things I’d Do for You...”
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Summary:  Tony's out of his element. He’s ignorant to many things in relation to offering someone else comfort, but closure and vengeance is one thing he’s damn good at.
Rating: Teen (For language and Thematic Material)
Warning: Self-loathing and lack of care for life, mentions of abuse, and slightly graphic dialogue towards the end (maybe too graphic, but I got caught up in the moment; sue me).
Word Count: 4.5k
Previous Chapter ~ Masterlist ~ Read on Ao3 ~  Next Chapter
Peter’s there for days, maybe weeks, he couldn’t keep track at this point. He’s glad he had the foresight to warn Ned of his absence. His friend would definitely be the leading cause behind filing a missing persons report, because he knows Beck wouldn’t do it, content to mooch off of CPS as long as possible. And Peter really didn’t need anyone out looking for him. He didn’t even want to think about the turmoil and stress that would ensue. He didn’t want to deal with it. Ever.
He just wanted to lie here on this couch forever, stare at the fire crackling in the fireplace and watch the orange light bleed through the darkness of Mr. Stark’s home. It reminded him of that night he’d followed Mr. Stark here… he missed him. Still.
He wasn’t afraid to admit it anymore at all; not even ashamed. He missed him. And he felt so incredibly guilty for turning the man’s world entirely upside down. If Peter hadn’t acted so carelessly none of this would be happening. Tony wouldn’t be on the run, Beck wouldn’t have found out about Spider-Man, and Peter wouldn’t be slowly starving to death, lying here on Stark’s couch, the licks of flames dancing up from the fire cradling him in a hypnotic trance. 
There was food in the kitchen, he knew there was, but just the thought of food made him sick, and he knew if he did try to stand he wouldn’t have a chance at making it that far before passing out. 
He’d long since accepted the fact that he’d die at a young age due to his vigilante hobby, but he must admit he never expected it to happen this young, especially not since Mr. Stark started showing up every moment he needed him. He hadn’t failed him once… until now. Now that Peter needs him… he’s not here. He stares down at the shattered face of the watch he’s been clutching in his hand since he arrived. Mr. Stark wasn’t coming back, and that was something Peter would have to accept. How could he come back, with all these people looking for him? It’d be impossible and probably the stupidest decision the man could make. But of course Peter’s still clinging to that childish hope that he’d see him again. Preferably before he wastes away here on this very couch.
Though at this rate, it didn’t seem like that was likely to happen. He didn’t even feel the pangs of hunger anymore, and he could feel his body slowly shutting down. It felt almost like a relief to be ridded of that constant ache in his stomach.
He’s been living off of that one school lunch meal for a week, and Peter could feel the definition of his bones when he ran a shaky hand over his ribs, or along his shoulder and arms. It wasn’t healthy by any means, but what did he care? There would be no “long run” to worry about, just the next couple of days before he peacefully slipped off to sleep into a gentle void of nothingness. And if this is what those last couple of days felt like… then he had nothing left to worry about. 
He drifted off, muscles and body aching from lying in the same position he had been for days. He had nice dreams, most consisting of finally being with Aunt May again, and his parents. They were waiting for him when he arrived and he was so, so happy to see them, it brought tears to his eyes. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of doing this before. No one but Ned would’ve missed him… and Ned would get over it-- will get over it.
Something draws him out of his dream just before he falls too far, and at first he thought it was the usual convulsing of his stomach urging him to vomit up some bile, or perhaps the heat of a fever and a throbbing headache, but it was none of those. 
Instead, it was a soft, light pressure against the side of his face. A small, calloused pad of warmth slowly stroking along his cheek, beneath his eye. It made his nose tickle, and his nostrils flared in response to the touch. His ears slowly cue in, and he’s hit with a sudden cacophony of noise. From the light sound of traffic several blocks down, and the small crackling of the dimming fire in the fireplace, all the way to the soft words belonging to a voice all too familiar, yet entirely unidentifiable.
“Pete?” The voice cracks with anxious distress. “C’mon Pete, wake up.” 
Then there’s a gentle hand on his shoulder, and all feelings along his skin and limbs begin to return. He’s being shaken back and forth, head lolling from side to side, but his groggy mind confuses it with… he didn’t know what it was. He just knows that everything feels numb and sensitive all at the same time. 
The warm embrace against the side of his face disappears, and something scratchy and pokey is pressed gently against his lips, urging them to part. “C’mon Pete,” the voice begs again. 
His tongue felt heavy and thick, weighed down by congealed saliva, but the pressure broke past the barrier of his lips despite it. He still couldn’t force himself to open his eyes. 
The potent taste of salt hits his tongue and it sends a sudden shock through his whole system, like it finally realized it was in the waking world. The groggy convulsion alerts the voice of his slight awareness and now his body is manhandled into a sitting position. Even though his eyes are beginning to peek open he has no strength left in his limbs to try and fight the external force. He’s leant up against a warm cushion-y surface, a heavy weight settling over his shoulders as the culprit for the salt is pushed past his lips once more. 
He bites down slowly, crumbs falling off at the corners of his mouth and the voice from earlier is quick to praise him. 
“Good job, kiddo. C’mon, just a little more.” The taste sits heavy in his mouth and it slowly grows soggy atop his tongue, which urges him to swallow it. And, it seemed that the moment it slid down his throat, his body remembered all that it was missing and he was hit with a sharp pang in his abdomen, and he’s quick to take another bite. 
His head lolls to the side, the cracker pushed back against his mouth, and his forehead pressed against something warm, engulfing him with a strong whiff of aftershave and alcohol. And slowly he’s able to piece together the warm shape he’s pressed against: an arm around his shoulders, a solid body sitting beside him, and the sharp outline of a jaw propped atop his head. Meaning the warmth bringing life back to his frozen nose and face must be the neck and shoulder. 
His mind can only conjure one person to picture with him in this scenario. However unrealistic it was.
“ ‘ny?” Most of it’s a groan, but it must’ve been articulate enough for the voice to understand, and he’s instantly blanketed in more warmth and praise, pulled even closer to the warm body. 
“Yes! It’s me. It’s Tony, kid.” The jaw resting on his head moves slightly in a way he couldn’t fully discern, and it’s followed by a soft but strong protrusion pressing against the top of his head, warm air passing over his scalp in short spurts before the jaw returns to its place.
It makes Peter smile. He’s not entirely sure why yet, but the warmth that blooms across his chest enlivens him in a way he never thought he’d experience ever again. 
He eats more crackers, and he sips water through a straw regularly pressed to his lips as well. He doesn’t know how many he eats or how much he drinks, but soon enough the feelings begin to slowly bleed back, urging life back into his limbs and his brain. His stomach wasn’t very happy, but that didn’t come as a surprise to him
“You feeling better kiddo? That’s almost the whole pack.” A heavy hand is pressed to his face, then migrates up to pet his hair. “I don’t know what’s good to feed ya when you’re like this. You gotta help me out here.”
“Mm,” Peter groans. He knows it's unhelpful, but his belly felt stuffed and now all he could think about was how cold he was. The penthouse was warm and cozy, but it seemed ever since he arrived, Peter still couldn’t shake that chill that had settled in his bones. The thought alone made him shiver.
“Are you still thirsty?” The voice sounded nervous. “Yeah, you’re probably still thirsty. Lemme go get some more water.” The body begins to move away, which meant so was the warmth. 
A strong tremble travels along Peter’s body with nervous anticipation, the muscles in his fingers spasming to grip at the person desperately before they could leave him alone. 
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” A strong hand grabs his fingers, gripping them gently between their larger ones. “You with me? You okay?”
“Mm,” Peter replies unhelpfully once more. He may not be able to reason or ruminate just yet, but he does know that he’s cold. He grabs the fingers around his and holds on tight, searching out warmth once more by diving his head back towards the warm cushion-y barrier from before and rooting himself there.
“Okay, okay.” The arm around his shoulders moves to rub warmth into his other arm, encircling him completely in the embrace. “Why’d you do this to yourself, Pete?” The voice whispers, a palpable despair in their tone. “You scared me.”
“Mm,” Peter hummed, eyelids pulsing open and closed with a firm determination to remain awake. His vision was blurred with soft orange light and the hard blackness of shadows. A sight he’s come to find as quite familiar and ironically comforting.
He feels better this time when he is pulled to sleep. Not so much on the brink of death anymore, but he feels he’s still teetering precariously close to that cliff. Though despite the nonsense the thought made, he knew the voice and the warmth would hold on tightly, and they wouldn’t let him fall.
He wakes up, warm and comfy in a nice big bed. He rolls onto his side with a groan, stomach screaming with hunger, and he lifts a hand to rub his fingers over his burning eyes. His entire body felt like it’d been wrung through a trash compactor. And he didn’t know how he ended up in a bed… He opened his eyes and looked around the room, then cursed under his breath. He was in Tony’s bed. In all the time he’s stayed hidden away in this penthouse, he’d stayed on that damned couch. He didn’t know what had occured last night to result in him crawling his way into this room.
His muscles felt weak and very unsteady, but he forced himself out of bed anyway. He needed to get out of that room, he needed to get back to the couch. He struggled opening the door, and he clutched at the wall as he stumbled and tripped his way back towards the main room. It didn’t even occur to him to question the light bleeding down the hall via the opened curtains scattering around the place. This morning wasn’t making any sense anyway, it didn’t matter. 
He was a little more than halfway there when he collapsed, his left leg giving out first, tripping up his balance and toppling him to the wooden floor. He lands with a heavy bang, and he winces at the dull throb that resulted in his side.
“Peter?!” Loud footsteps follow the exclamation, and Peter’s entire body seizes with shock. 
Was that??
It was.
Tony appears from around the corner seconds later, crouching in front of him with bulging plastic bags draped from his arms, hands reaching out towards him to help him off the ground. 
“What in the world are you doing out of bed, kid? I told you to stay put.” And before Peter could even put up a protest, he was being lifted into the air and led back down the hall the way he came, back into Tony’s room. 
It was like he’d just returned from the dentist, cotton stuffed in his mouth, tongue paralyzed, and brain conjuring weird loop-de-loops because he was still high on the pain meds. Because Mr. Stark was here. Carrying him. 
If he wasn’t so startled and shocked by the man’s sudden appearance, he’d surely be mortified, but all he could do was stare dubiously at the side of his face as they walked. Then he was being lowered gently back into the bed, and as soon as Tony released him he dropped the bags from his arms and they hit the floor with muted thumps. Giving the man the freeness to meticulously tuck the sheets and cover back over Peter’s frailing body. 
Any semblance of flesh had withered off his bones, thanks to his recent lack of appetite. 
There was a harsh line molded between Tony’s brows as he messed anxiously with the sheets, and then turned his fixations towards the bags he’d just dropped. Peter didn’t speak a word during the entire ordeal, still unsure if this was just some weird dream or not. 
“I picked up some stuff from the convenient store down the block. This’ll do much better than those Saltines from last night.” He lifts up the bottle of red gatorade to show, cracks open the lid, then plops a little bendy straw into the opening. “I would’ve gotten the ones with the sippy cup caps, y’know,” he rambled, sitting down on the mattress beside him and holding the straw up to his lips with shaky fingers, “but this was all they had. I’m assuming your favorite color is red, but I got all the other colors too.” Just as Peter takes a tentative sip, Tony pulls it back looking as if he was in the midst of a panic. “Damn, I should’ve asked you what flavor you wanted. Do you want blue instead? I can get the blue one,” Tony bends down so quickly it almost gives Peter whiplash, hand and head disappearing beside the bed, the rustling of plastic bags sounding during the frantic search. Then Tony sits up to brandish the blue gatorade,offering it towards him instead. “Or I've got green… and the white one.”
They stare at each other for several moments, and Peter’s not entirely sure what Tony expects him to say, so he settles with something simple.
“I-I like red.”
The straw is back at his lips and Tony’s nodding a little too feverishly. “Yeah, yeah, see I knew that.”
Peter sips on the drink, Tony watches him, and that little worried crease between his eyebrows doesn’t go away.
When he’s finished, he pulls away from the straw and leans back against the pillow, finally feeling a bit refreshed. Just as Tony begins to insist he drink more, Peter asks his question. “What are you doin’ here?”
Tony scoffs at him, an offended frown coming over his face. “This is my house. I should be the one asking you that question.”
And really, that was a good point. Peter didn’t know why he was here either. He drops his gaze to stare at his lap. He didn’t mean to worry the man, or get in his way… he just wanted someplace warm to stay.
“‘M sorry.” He mumbled softly, a heaviness overcoming his eyes with the pressure building behind them. 
“Shit, kid, I didn’t mean-- I didn’t mean it like that.” Tony’s hot palm presses against the side of his neck, thumb dipping under his chin to force his gaze back up. “I’m just worried ‘bout you. I came home and found you on my couch, passed out and-and small as a twig, pale, and I didn’t know what to do.”
Peter leans into the touch without thought, absorbing the tender affection like he was starved for it. 
“I didn’t know where else to go,” Peter whispers, tears finally beginning to fall from his eyes. The thumb tucked beneath his chin quickly moves to soothe over his cheeks, brushing the fallen tears away. It forces a smile from Peter, a bittersweet, desperate smile, formed with quivering lips. 
Tony rips his hand away, suddenly and violently, like he’d only just realized what he was doing, stumbling away from the edge of the bed. He shook out the hand that’d been against Peter’s cheek like it had been infected with an abhorrent substance, and the man turned his back to Peter, other hand lifting to run through his hair while he cursed under his breath. 
He avoids Peter’s eyes when he does turn back around. He points towards the gatorade sitting on the bedside table and clears his throat before delivering his instructions. “Drink all of that. I’ll be back soon.” 
He shuffles from the room, grabbing one of the plastic bags on his way, and Peter can hear his distant mutterings under his breath as he leaves the room. It left an odd sense of emptiness in him, and he turned to look at the small bottle of red gatorade. 
He didn’t reach for it, opting to watch the door. Awaiting Tony’s return.
Tony reappeared after several minutes, looking much less perturbed than when he had left. He came bearing soup and he set it down beside the empty bottle. He kept his distance this time though. The worried line between his brows were gone, taking upon an unperturbed expresion… simply gesturing with his head towards the steaming bowl.
He pulls up a chair, and when Peter still hadn’t made a move for the soup and Tony remained under his unyielding stare. After several more moments, and Peter had yet to move, Tony reached over to place the bowl gently in his lap. It wasn’t full by any means, so Peter didn’t worry about it spilling. 
“Peter, you have to eat,” he nods down towards the bowl again. “And while you eat, I want you to tell me everything that happened while I was gone. Everything that got you to this point.” He waves his finger in a circular motion in gesture to his body, fixing Peter with a stern look, and Peter drops his head shyly.
“Can-can I eat first?”
Peter eats as slow as possible under Tony’s watchful eye. Sadly, however, there was only a finite amount of soup and when Peter was finished, Tony was ready to talk, taking the bowl from his hands and putting it to the side. 
“Alright, kid, spill.” Tony had his serious frown on; the same one Peter remembered he wore during the couple lectures he gave in the past. “No skimping on details.”
Peter turns his gaze away from him, skin prickling with anxiety. “My foster dad found out I was Spider-Man… an-and he thought I was working for you. I just… it made him really angry and I just wanted to get away! So, I came to look for you, but you weren’t here and I thought you were never coming back…”
He’s bowing his head to hide his tears, meaning he didn’t realize Tony had gotten out of his chair until he was settling beside him on the bed, and Peter’s head snapped up to look at him when he felt the matress dip. The man sat right beside him, shoulder pressing up against his, and the worry line making a reappearance. 
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you like that.”
“I-I’m not your responsibility,” Peter argues, “you shouldn’t feel sorry. I’m the one that screwed everything up and ruined your life.” He felt the trembling in his lips begin once more and he turns his head to hide it. “Everything that’s happened… to you… to me. It’s all my fault.”
Strong fingers grab his chin and force his gaze back, and Tony’s glaring down at him. “No, none of this is your fault.”
“Are you stupid?!” Peter bites, cheeks heating up with both frustration and embarrassment. He shakes off Tony’s grip on his chin. “You told me to stay away from those weapons, but I didn’t listen! And then I end up getting into trouble, and you felt the need to come rescue me!” He grips his hair, pulling at the curls in frustration and turning back to his lap as he continues to ramble. “And-and it’s my fault that I left my suit on my floor before bed. So it’s my fault when Beck found them,” he turns his gaze back up to Tony, tears now flowing freely from his eyes, “and it’s my fault that I didn’t fight back. I’m Spider-Man… it’s-it’s, he should have no power over me and-and he only has it because I’m scared.”
Tony’s grip is softer this time when he grabs his chin. 
“Hey,” he soothes, lifting his other hand to wipe away the tears, “don’t you ever blame yourself for this. You’re a kid, I’m an adult, and it’s my job to keep you safe.” His gaze turns steely, and Peter feels his grip tighten slightly on his chin. “I just need to know one thing Peter… did he hurt you?”
The silence and the immediate influx of tears was apparently enough confirmation for the man, and he instantly releases Peter, a tight growl rumbling through his chest as he pushes himself off the bed. Peter sees the orange flareup appearing above the man’s collar, climbing up the veins of his neck. He knew well enough to know Tony’s intentions. 
“No,” he chokes, diving after the man. He grabs a strong fistful of his shirt before he could get too far, and Tony turns to look down at him, his blue eyes vivid as ever. “Please don’t…” 
“Peter,” Tony growls, a tight rumbling passing through him. “He’s not getting away with this. He’s not getting away with laying his hands on you.”
“Please…” Peter begged desperately. “Please don’t kill him… Please.” He’s crying in earnest now, and Tony takes pity.
He grabs Peter’s hand, gently prying it from his clothes to hold firmly in his palm. “Pete.”
“Please don’t leave,” Peter tries. 
He couldn’t stand the thought of being responsible for Beck’s death, because then the world’s point would be proven. Spider-Man was just as bad as Iron Man. Any notion of ‘hero’ was dead. 
He knows Tony will kill him. He can see it in his eyes. The rage.
“Please don’t leave me.”
“Peter…” Peter’s tempted to label the sound that emits from the man as a soft whine as Tony slowly sits himself back on the mattress, never releasing his hold of Peter’s hand. 
“Stay.” He tugs Tony closer. If he was close enough to hold onto, Peter could keep him from leaving. 
“Okay, okay,” Tony relents, scooting back up beside him. Peter doesn’t risk doing anything more than pressing his shoulder against him. The touch was enough to draw him comfort for the moment. Just enough to lull him back into a peaceful sleep.
Beck’s seething, fisting the red cloth in his hand. Peter was gone… and he was in deep shit. There was no way CPS wouldn’t investigate him after this. He stares at the undecorated Christmas Tree standing lifelessly in the corner as he downs another swig from his bottle. He grimaces. He didn’t usually go immediately for the hard liquor, but the week had been particularly difficult for him. After his Boss found out about Tony Stark being alive… it had been chaotic. And it never failed to construct a headache waiting just for him at the end of the day.
There were two sharp knocks at the door, and he flinched in surprise, eyes darting to the clock hung on the wall. 10:48. Who the hell was at his door so late at night?
Before he even had a chance to stand from his easy chair, his door blew in. 
He leaped from the chair, dropping everything in his hands during his frantic stumble. The bottle shattered on the floor, and the suit soaked up the spilt liquid. He shouted in surprise and stared at the man standing in his doorway. 
The man in question steps past the threshold, onto the fallen door. His eyes glowed, his entire body illuminated like he was under the light of a strong fire. He doesn’t say anything, but Beck thinks he knows why he was here.
Beck slowly moves himself away from the room, backpedaling as quickly as possible, tripping over his own drunken steps. Stark moves closer. 
“Hey, Stark. What are- what are you doin’ here?”
“I think you know.” His voice was gravelly and strained, and Beck shuddered.
“I-I really don’t,” he lies. He crashes into the decorative table set up at the beginning of the hall. A potted plant and several books crashing to the floor. 
Stark steps closer, chin dipping to his chest which only highlights his sharp, shining glare, his head tilting only slightly to the side.
“I reeally think you do.”
Beck falls to the ground. 
And as Tony begins to gain on him, he starts his rambling. “Whatever that kid told you was a total lie, I swear. He makes up all kinds of stories! I’ve been nothing but hospitable--” Tony grabs him by the throat, lifting him clean off the ground with nothing more than his human arm. Then he squeezes, bringing their faces close as Beck chokes desperately around his hand. 
“It’s too late,” he whispers into his face, voice calm and soothing, “I remember you… how much trouble you were back in the day.” A dangerous grin flitted over Stark’s face. “Nothing you say will get you out of this. I’m going to make you feel every bit of pain my kid suffered at your hands. In fact, if it wasn’t for that kid, I’d slit you open and splash around like a child playing in a puddle, and string your guts around that tree like decorative garlands. You best be glad I’m a man of my word...”
When Peter blinks awake, his head is lying on the pillow, blankets pulled up around his shoulders and Tony sat beside him. Head thrown back against the headboard, mouth open, snoring, and a discarded tablet hanging loosely in his grip atop his lap. 
Peter smiles, snuggling further into the pillow and pulling the blankets tight around him. 
He didn’t think to pay any mind to the small splatter of red on the cuffs of his shirt.
Next Chapter
29 notes · View notes
reversecreek · 1 year
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pops hip n winks at the dash. haaaaiiii. me again. i’ve honestly missed playing lana fr a while she’s one of. my most treasured muses bc she’s jst a silly n vivacious ball of sunshine or alternatively? a train wreck depending on which way u turn her in the light..... i actually hv two playlists made fr her n one is rly old bt it’s more like. songs that Remind me of her which u can find here n then here is more like. stuff u’ll most often catch her blasting on her record player as she dances around in her underwear w the curtains open. OH and here is her pinterest 🍓⚡
* kristine froseth, cis female + she/her  | you know lana jameson, right? they’re twenty-three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, a few hours? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to play that funky music by wild cherry like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole cherry red gym socks worn with nothing else, doodling penises in the condensation of a stranger’s car window, a bumper sticker on the back of a convertible cadillac that says ‘scrappy doo is a filthy slut’ thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is june 2nd, so they’re a gemini, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt, she/her  )
lana grew up in a big house in albany, NY. i picture it w dark oak floors n lots of light furniture. albums framed on walls. mayb some rolling stone covers too frm way bk when of the bands her dad’s label signed. kind of like… a rock star palace w no evidence of children at all. i think i described it best in one of lana’s self paras once when i said the garden ws “as big as it was unloved”
lana’s mum victoria (vic) ws a music journalist w a pretty fruitful career ahead of her when she met lana’s dad richard (rich). his record label ws jst starting out, founded on the coattails of his wealthy best friend’s (jensen peters) investment w his other best friend (who he jst calls knoxville). it rocketed to success when they signed poppy injects, a rock band w an electric stage presence, n vic ws drawn to the glitz n glamour of a man tht ws at the helm of his aspiring industry. their love ws very impulsive, all or nothing right frm the start, n it ws almost like she ws mre in love w his accomplishments n what he represented than him.
(DRUGS TW) anyway so jameson records repped a few rock bands bk in the eighties, altho poppy injects r who they’re mostly known fr, namely bc of hw brightly they crashed n burned. they were a big chart success bt the lead singer hd quite an intense struggle w heroin (wsnt rly subtle abt it either while he ws in the public eye as u cn probably imagine frm such an on-the-nose band name) n he ws always in n out of the papers. it eventually brought down his career n it ws a big publicity nightmare
lana pretty much… grew up around figures like this throughout childhood. real characters who wld kind of… b extremely volatile n destructive abt their troubles. the jameson house was an open one as welcoming clients went n a lot of parties took place there. a lot of the time musicians wld b snorting lines in the kitchen when she wnted to grab a bowl of cereal fr breakfast n it was just. a very strange environment fr a child to grow up in. more zoo than home. more shaken snow globe than resting place. (END OF TW)
(ABORTION REFERENCE) her parents always kind of jst… didn’t like her much. her older brother caleb ws unplanned bt they sort of welcomed the surprise more bt… quickly realised they weren’t cut out fr parenthood n then when lana came as another surprise 3 yrs later they didn’t even try to hide their resentment abt the situation. her mum ws actually booked in to have an abortion bt cldnt go through with it at the last minute. once when lana ws a kid she asked her why she’s so cold towards her she jst turned her head frm her dresser, looked at her, told her abt this n said “idk why i didn’t go”. lana didn’t kno wht to say to tht so she jst left her room n closed the door (END OF REFERENCE)
(DISSOCIATION TW) bc of the intensity of her parents ignoring her growing up lana adopted this sense of like…. she didn’t rly kno what it ws bt it ws a delusion of sorts where she thought she ws a ghost bc she gt this strange outside feeling. she’d jst sort of… drift around the halls w no-one acknowledging her n sometimes she ws jst convinced she wsnt actually there or they cldnt see her n she ws jst haunting the house frm a previous family. (END OF TW) her imagination festered an explanation out of smthn she didn’t understand essentially. lana used her imagination to do this a lot growing up. it ws kind of like the band aid she slapped over everything. after all she wasn’t alone if she was sword fighting imaginary pirates dwn the hallway with a poker from the fireplace. 
the one saving grace tho tht sort of?? gt her thru this n made her feel Seen ws caleb. lana quite genuinely hs always thought the sun shines out of her older brothers ass like she jst thinks. he’s the best person in the entire world. wld b rly bewildered if anyone questioned tht. he wld always look out for her n cut the crusts off her sandwiches (he’d cook fr them most of the time bc their parents were too busy/didn’t care to) n sometimes wld even sleep at the bottom of her bed curled up like a guard dog. it ws always lana n caleb n his best friend tommy against the world in tht house (tommy lived next door bt was always over bc he had very strict parents tht he found suffocating)
(ARMY MENTION) SO when tommy announced tht he’d signed up to the army (bc of pressures from tommy’s military dad to fulfil some kind of stupid “legacy” tommy didn’t even care abt) n caleb said he was going with him lana ws understandably…….. completely blindsided. she ws rly upset tht they were leaving n was kind of like “wtf why are u doing this like what do u even think this is gna solve” etc n begged caleb not to leave her there on her own n jst to not sign up in general bc tommy had to bt he didn’t listen. 
ERM i won’t go into it but it didn’t turn out well as u can probably imagine bc the army is a terrible industry n caleb had to return home without tommy. he wasn’t the same after that. (END OF MENTION)
what’d been a rly close relationship before where he ws basically like a surrogate father figure to lana was Not there any more. he ws rly withdrawn n always pushing her away n snapping at her for the sake of getting her to leave him alone. on top of this lana had a lot of shit go down while he was away n rly just shouldn’t have been a kid alone in tht house. regardless lana thought if she kept grinning as wide as she cld she’d convince caleb to join in too. maybe if she seemed fine n happy he’d take the lead. maybe she’d believe it too n start to feel it n everything could go bk to how it was before her world became so different. lana liked the way the sky flipped when she tipped her head back on the swings bt this was different. everything was upside down bt this didn’t make her belly feel like she’d swallowed a butterfly and it wasn’t funny bt still, she kept laughing. always desperate to find something to laugh at n if she couldn’t find it she invented it. as long as ur laughing the world can’t b that bad.
she ws always well liked in school bc she jst tended to treat everyone like they were bffs no matter who like u cld have literally bumped shoulders w her once in the corridor n she’d be like OMG HAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII let’s kiss<3 n like she ws a huge notorious flirt w any n all as well as incredibly impulsive n jst. wild honestly to put it simply too bt things like. changed a bit frm 16 onwards. (HYPERSEXUALITY & IMPLIED TRAUMA TW) she jst became far more reckless honestly n like....... jst didn’t rly seem to care after a certain point abt herself too much.... got herself in a bunch of bad situations.......... kind of jst flung herself to the wolves numerous times without any caution abt the way they’d bite. formed a lot of self destructive habits one of which ws cruising craigslist personals fr random hook-ups n like. she literally cld have wound up in a ditch somewhere honestly it’s a shock she hasn’t. despite various dips n inclines in her journey navigating this side of her it’s very much still present in her life to this day n she struggles to kno hw to control herself at points. sometimes she feels like a melting candle tht needs moulding by thumbs until it can form a person again. sometimes she’s only sure she’s real when she’s being touched. (END OF TW)
ANYWAY. laughs nervously. went to college to study dance bc she’s always loved dance in general bt specifically ballet (despite definitely not hving the discipline for it) n honestly this was both good n bad fr her. had a whole string of terrible heartbreaking relationships bc she tends to fall into those hard n fast n they were w a lot of bad people fr like 98% of the time. she kind of learned more abt what love is during her time there tho which is a gd thing bt she still isn’t very good at knowing hw to believe she deserves it so it’s a process. she hd fun tho. threw 498572598475 outrageous n elaborately themed parties. ws friends w pretty much everyone on campus. 
despite a strained relationship w her brother n having to go home to visit n check on him whenever he got rly bad it ws the first time it actually felt like she’d found a home in a lot of rly loving n genuine friendships n lana will never forget hw much that experience meant to her even if she definitely struggled there too. college felt like a place she belonged n then suddenly she couldn’t belong there any more n there was a big sense of floundering in that. like where do u go now when u’ve never known home elsewhere? how do u happily go out into the world if it means leaving ur world behind?
she applied to a dance company in LA n fell in w a pretentious art scene there full of wannabe andy warhols n the like. became a makeshift edie sedgwick to some guy w dyed white hair n the idea his every concept was revolutionary when rly he jst shot her dancing barely clothed splashing around in a random fountain in his friend’s mansion on an ancient film camera. she’d spend her days floating around on lilo’s and prancing in feather boas and racing with glitter leftover frm last night in her leotard w smudges of faint red lipstick to barely make her job on time. always a sexy train wreck bt this time? make it hollywood. 
(IMPLIED ALCOHOLISM TW) i won’t lie to u lana hs always partied way too hard bt then partying way too hard turned into slurping merlot thru a crazy straw shaped like a flamingo at 4 in the afternoon wearing penis novelty sunglasses n it wasn’t quite so much of a party when u were doing it on ur own. this rly snowballed into place in college bt carried on n wound up getting her fired from the dance company bc she turned up to rehearsals drunk one too many times n they didn’t allow fr sloppiness like tht. it was a “professional operation” that didn’t “accept that kind of behaviour” bt lana was jst like ummmmmmmmm that’s totally dramatic btw way to spank me in the town square like i’m gale w a raw ass n back in the hunger games bt ok sure i’m out ig. BOOP! (literally booped the director on the nose before leaving) (END OF TW)
honestly hd no idea what to do w herself after her job fell thru in LA n was pretty embarrassed actually upon sobering up the nxt day. cldn’t bring herself to tell her friends for a hot minute bc she felt like a failure or smthn n she was meant to be living this glamorous life out there being the classic wild n silly n fun Lana Jameson. cldn’t figure out how to repackage it into a funny story tht wouldn’t worry ppl. eventually wound up jst caving n telling her closest besties (shoutout freya n rosa) bc she ws hving a weird time dating losers n randomly living in LA even tho she didn’t kno why she was there any more after losing the job n they were jst like. fk it then. jst come here. we’re in irving. and so? mizz jameson packed her bags....
always smells vaguely of wild cherries or strawberry starburst or jst the candy aisle in general. if she ws a vinyl record she’d b this one n she’d only play good vibrations by the beach boys, dancing on my own by robyn, play that funky music by wild cherry, femme fatale by the velvet underground n (i can’t get no) satisfaction by the rolling stones
the jameson family r pretty well off n bc of her relation to such a big music industry figure she’s hung out w a fair few relatively high rep ppl thru her teens. mostly kids of celebrities n stuff like tht. she amassed a bit of an instagram following #nepotism bt also fr her style (v penny lane-esque in some aspects. lots of fur cuff trimmed jackets bt then also jst…. a wild combination of everything honestly. pastel faux fur coats, seventies style platforms, bright red cowboy boots, pink fishnet tights, holographic stickers of planets on her cheek n glitter used like highlight, 90% of the time a red lip) n bc she’s not gna make ur eyes bleed to look at or anything let’s b real
growing up lana was always a huge social butterfly. knew everyone n everyone knew her. she ws one of those girls tht ws kind of impossible to ignore or forget. very animated, always made u feel like u were the centre of the universe whenever she spoke to u, always made it feel like u were best friends even if ud only spoken to her once.
deliberately puts on tht kind of Magnetic Alluring Act tht femme fatales wear in movies w most ppl. kind of…. is always playing A Role of the person tht she wants to b seen as. hates being sad n always wnts to be happy / making ppl happy. chameleons to situations. feels like she’s performed as the vivacious n fun loving Lana Jameson fr so long tht she doesn’t rly kno who she is beneath tht bt she isn’t too keen to find out. sometimes gets glimpses n feels the urge to close her eyes.
she’s always been rly spontaneous n adventurous. always doing something weird n wild every weekend. she has ten thousand ridiculously absurd n chaotic stories. she’s like oh ya this one time this guy made me ride him with a daddy saddle like i was woody and he was bullseye. he literally made me call him bullseye. or she’s like. oh ya once i had to run barefoot thru a cabbage patch bc this one farmer wanted to have a threeway w me n my friend tht we met off craigslist n every framed photo in his house was a pig dressed up in cosplay bt honestly they were kind of cute n he was sexy aside frm the murderous vibes n the fact he kept calling me babe which i’m pretty sure means he wanted to dress me up next bt like whatever honestly.... she tells jst the most batshit stuff n the person she’s telling it to is left blinking like. wtf.
uncontrollably flirty. insanely confident. cld make a joke out a paper bag n will try. she tends to laugh when she feels like crying n has a smile brighter than a ray of texas sunshine.
likes to roller skate n hs a red pair she’ll glide around in at night lit up by amber street lamps breath sticky w the taste of wine n lollipops probably heading to a random hookups. who needs ubers?
always dapples her fingers thru the breeze when she’s driving in a car w the window down. honestly likes dangling her whole body halfway out too. she almost always has some sort of sweet on her, whether it’s sour haribo cherries or strawberry lollipops.
luvs bowie (ONLY aesthetically) n prince (wholeheartedly) n madonna (completely) n anyone tht’s a vintage style icon w little care fr what ppl think.
daisies n poppies r her fav flowers bc daisies r wild n overlooked n poppies r the first thing u look at in a green field. she’s had like 8472493874 ‘relationships’ n none of them hav lasted beyond a month / hav been terrible / hav seen her being treated badly / she’s cheated on them. honestly it’s like a burning train wreck but u can’t quite tear ur eyes away. often the heart of many sordid gossip scandals.
TBA bc she’s only jst arrived in town i won’t lie to u all but i’m gna whip things up on here anyway n link in chat w updates at some point........ that said? lana is insatiable n it isn’t rly unlikely tht she cld’ve bumped into ur muse in a grocery store aisle n somehow a wild spontaneous adventure spawned frm that alone.......... if u have any immediate ideas we can discuss 😋
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dahliawolfe · 2 years
Something More
CSI NY fanfic
Danny Messer/OFC
The buzzing of her cell woke her. Grunting, Nora reached for the phone and flipped it open.
“Hello,” she rasped.
“Nora, we’ve got a case,” Mac Taylor said, no preamble.
“Gotcha, Dad. Text me the address, please,” she swung her legs over the side of the bed and snapped the phone shut, throwing it onto the nightstand. She hurried into a pair of jeans from the floor and turned to look back at the bed. “Yo, Messer! Up and at ‘em! We got a case,” she demanded, throwing a balled up sock at Danny’s head. She and Danny had been fooling around for a few weeks now. When a case was stressful (and they usually were) they met up and blew off steam. She’d known Danny for nearly 6 years, and he was her best friend. It was strictly no strings attached when they hooked up.
“Lemme sleep,” Danny begged tiredly. They had been up until after 2 a.m. working on finishing up a case. It was now a little after 6.
“No can do. Boss man called himself.” She slid into her lace black bralette and grabbed the first discarded t-shirt she could reach. She shoved her feet into her boots and stood. “Lock up, will ya? See ya there.” Danny gave her a limp wave from the bed, and she snorted. She threw her leather jacket around her shoulders and made her way down to her Tahoe.
The Crestmont loomed in front of her, and Nora took a second to peer up. This place had always given her the creeps. Shaking herself, she made her way inside, flashing her badge at the patrol officer out front. She made her way to the elevator, taking it all the way to the 15 floor. She could smell the latex and print powder as she stepped out of the doors. She smiled. It smelled like home. Even before Nora became an investigator herself, her dad had been doing the job, and he always came home smelling like the tools of the trade.
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“Nora, over here,” Flack called, waving her over. She nodded and made her way carefully across the penthouse suite.
“What have we got” she questioned, grabbing gloves from her kit and snapping them on.
“Alexander Trenton. He was a judge. On his way to the Supreme Court.” Nora whistled and stooped to take a look at the body.
“Looks like a through and through. Execution style,” she remarked, standing up.
“Is that Danny’s shirt?” Flack questioned, wrinkling his forehead in confusion.
She froze and glanced down at herself. It was indeed Danny’s shirt.
“Oh, yeah. I spilled coffee on myself last night. He lent it to me, and it was just what I threw on this morning on the way out the door.” The lie was easy enough. She needed to be more careful.
“Hmm. Well, you might wanna change before Mac gets here.”
“Where is Father Dearest, anyway?”
“Mayor wanted a word.” Nora rolled her eyes.
“Of course.”
“You guys start the party without me?!” Danny demanded, coming out of the elevator carrying 3 coffees.
“Fashionably late, as always,” Nora teased, grabbing her camera to document the scene.
Nora was leaned over the desk in the print lab when someone spoke behind her.
“Detective Eleanor Taylor?”
“Nora,” she replied, placing her file down and turning around, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the light table.
“We would like a word,” replied the man; obviously a federal agent of some sort.
“We can talk in my office,” Mac replied, coming out of nowhere. He led the two agents and Nora to his office, where he shut the door.
“What’s this about?” Nora asked. She didn’t have time for their bureaucratic crap.
The second agent pulled out a file and passed it to Nora. “We believe you know this man.”
Nora opened the file and felt her stomach tighten. “Jared Weston,” she said, the words threatening to choke her.
“Yes. You attended North Peak Academy with him, did you not?”
“That was years ago. Why are you here? I haven’t seen him in 7 years.”
Another file was handed to her. She flicked through it briefly, spotting bloody crime scenes and pages of notes on victims. “Okay?” she asked, dreading the answer.
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“In the last 6 months, 6 judges, 3 military personnel, and 4 police have been murdered from Virginia, to Boston, to Delaware. The M.O. is all the same. And all evidence points to someone with a serious grudge against the government.” Nora felt the blood leave her body. She thought he was just an angry kid. Mad at his parents. She never thought he’d do anything like this.
“If you know all of this. And you have evidence against him, why are you here?”
“We’re always one step behind, but we got a lead on his next victim.”
“Judge Trenton?” she questioned, feeling the pieces fall into place. The agents shared a confused face.
“We thought he was a possible target, but Detective Taylor, we think you’re his next target.”
“Me?! What the hell are you talking about?!”
“Weston has it out for you. We found his manifestoes on our last case. He talks about how you betrayed him. And how you’re worse than any of the others.”
“Betrayed him how?” Mac asked, speaking for the first time.
Nora swallowed against a dry throat. “I need a minute,” she croaked, slamming out of the room, and making her way as quickly as possible to the roof, bending over, roughly hugging herself in a demand for oxygen.
“Nora!” came the call, as Danny joined her on the roof. “Hey. Hey. It’s ok. What happened?” he demanded, pulling her into his chest.
“We were kids! We were scared! And we were pissed that our parents sent us to a fucking military academy! That place was hell, Danny, and he was the only bright spot of it! How the hell does this happen?!”
“Ok. Ok. Shhh. It’s ok. I’m right here. I gotcha.” He held her close, rocking her gently until she could breathe again. When he deemed it safe, he pulled her away a pushed a stray curl out of her face. “Now, tell me. What happened in there.”
“Jared went to North Peak too. And we bonded. His mom and dad were both in the military. And he hated them for sending him away to be trained to be like them. And I was mad and Mac for sending me away to a military school upstate. I felt like he didn’t want me. Like I was a fuck up and he wanted to get rid of me and have something better. So, we would sit behind the bleachers and smoke cigarettes and drink beer and rage against the machine. I thought it was all just angsty teenage bullshit. Then the towers were hit. And Claire was gone. And I was devasted. She was the only mom I’d ever known. And she was gone. And I was scared. I was so angry, Danny. I remember just screaming at the stars and demanding to know why any of that bullshit had happened to us. And Jared, Jared sat with me all night and screamed too. And the next morning, Mac came and took me home to finish my senior year at St. Agatha’s. And I never saw Jared again. Truth be told, I didn’t want to. He reminded me of how ungrateful, and angry, and hurt I was, and I didn’t want that. But then I became a cop. And I betrayed him. I left him. And I don’t know what happened to him. But now he kills people, Danny. And he wants to kill me. And hell, maybe I deserve that.”
“Hey! Look at me!” Grabbing her chin, Danny forced her to look up at him. “You do not deserve that. You were a child! And he was sick! And none of that was your fault! You did not do this! He did! You hear me?!” He pressed a firm but gentle kiss to her lips then her forehead and pulled her close again.    
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“We want to put you on 24-hour protection detail,” the FBI agent informed her, once she had relayed her story to them.
“We can do that in house,” Mac stated, folding his arms over his chest. He knew his people could protect his daughter better than the feds ever could. She was one of their own, and they took care of their own.
“I’ll do it,” Danny quickly stated, jumping into the conversation. He’d followed her back inside when she’d finally gained the courage to come in.
“Ok, who else can take a shift?” the agent asked, raising a brow at Mac.
“No, I mean I can be with her 24/7 until we catch this guy,” Danny said, standing straighter. The agent snorted, but Mac nodded.
“Don’t let her out of your sight.”
“Roger, Boss.”
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Nora tossed her keys into the bowl by the front door and kicked her boots off. It had been a hell of a day, and she needed a drink and a hot bath.
“I’m making myself a rum and coke and I’m gonna sit in a hot bath for an undetermined amount of time. Make yourself at home,” she informed, stripping her tee off and throwing it somewhere to her left.
“Pizza tonight?” Danny asked, leaning over to look into the fridge.
“Sure. Extra cheese.”
By the time Nora made it to the bathroom, she was down to her underwear. She had a cold glass of Bicardi and coke, which she sat down beside her claw foot tub, turning the water on, making sure it was hot enough, and adding some mint soak. After putting some music on her record player, she slid into the warm bubbles, sinking up to her neck. She sighed, feeling at least some of the day’s tension melt away.
Danny peeked into the bathroom, admiring Nora. She looked like a goddess, head laid back, surrounded by bubbles, singing softly to the Frank Sinatra playing in the background.
“See something you like, Messer?” she teased, opening one eye and raising her brow at him.
“Very much so,” Danny replied, coming in to kneel by the tub, dipping his finger under the water. “But, pizza’s here.”
“Mmm. Good, I’m starving. Give me five, and I’ll be out.”
“Sure thing.” Before leaving, Danny leaned down and gave Nora a deep kiss. “Don’t keep me waiting,” he urged, heading back to the living area.
When Nora emerged, she was wearing nothing but an overly large Led Zepplin t-shirt and a pair of black boyshorts. Danny had already set up the tv to reruns of The Golden Girls and had the pizza box open with a beer bottle on each side of the table. He gave her a grin. “Your feast, ma’am,” he joked, bowing for effect.
“Why thank you, sir. Truly, you do provide.” Nora took a seat on the couch, snagging the blue wool blanket from Danny’s end, snatching a slice of pizza, and hooking a beer with her ring finger and pinkie. Danny settled in close, lazily slinging his arm over her shoulder and sitting back with his own slice.
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“Fuck, Danny! Don’t stop!” Nora moaned, looking down to catch Danny giving her a cheeky wink, delving even deeper into his ministrations. And Nora was almost there, but then someone knocked on the door.
“Nora, it’s Flack!”
“Fuck!” she hissed, pushing Danny away from between her legs. “C-coming, Flack!”
“Two words you don’t really wanna hear when going down on your girl,” Danny commented, wiping his face off on the duvet. Nora frowned.
“Shut it, Messer. Your girl?” She huffed, standing to locate her discarded underwear, tossing Danny his jeans and making her way to the front door. She checked to make sure Danny was decent before unlocking the door and opening it.
“Flack, what’s up? It’s late, man?”
“Nora, there’s another vic. Mac wanted me to come pick you guys up.”
“Shit. Ok, let me get my pants.”
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“Jeffrey Conrad. 57. He’s an ex-homicide detective from Brooklyn,” Mac informed the second Nora got out of Flack’s car.
“Conrad? Why does that name sound familiar?” Nora questioned, grabbing a pair of gloves, ducking under the crime scene tape. Mac handed her a picture. It was of a greying man in a uniform. “Wait, Conrad. There was a kid at North Peak. Tyler…Tommy…”
“Trevor?” Mac replied.
“Yes! That’s it. Trevor, he was in our class. He killed himself a couple of years ago, I think.” Nora sighed, rubbing her temples. “He was always telling anyone who would listen how much of a bastard his dad was. I guess Jared blamed Trevor’s death on his dad.” Mac frowned. Nora could see that this case was wearing at him too. She tried not to give him a hard time. He was a single dad just trying to do what was best. And she knew he loved her, but she also knew how hellish North Peak had been. She gently touched her father’s arm. “Hey, listen. I know why you sent me to North Peak. I’m fine. Those other kids, their parents were terrible to them, but you weren’t like that to me. You and…” she gulped. “And Claire, you guys gave me a lot of good opportunities. You did your best. And I…I don’t blame you for anything.” Mac gave her a sad smile and nodded.
“I shouldn’t have sent you away. I’m sorry, Nora.” She gave him as soft smile.
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“Mac! Nora!” Stella called from across the room. Sharing a brief glance at each other, Mac and Nora walked quickly to her side.
“What did you find, Stella?” Stella handed her a sealed envelope.
“It has your name on it.”
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teampaul · 2 years
I would like a wolf pack ship! I'm 25, Asian Indian-American, originally from a suburb in NY, but now living in DC and digging the city life. I'm social, even with strangers (I'm usually part of welcome teams for church and school). I love to cook, play video games, and work out/take nature walks. People say I'm a really understanding mom friend, and I get teased a lot by guys because I'm smallish (I'm 5'3 and pretty thin) and a little dense with it comes to other people flirting with me.
I would have to say that I ship you with…...
Although I ship you with him, I could also see you being really close to Jared Cameron. He’s like your ride or die when Jake isn’t around in a very brotherly way. He’s the one who would play video games with you and you’re both BEASTS when you get to work as a team on a game. The guys have to tease you about being short-
“Are you sure you don’t need a carseat to drive?” 
“Sorry, Y/N. You have to be THIS tall to come to the bonfire.” 
Usually a light punch to the stomach is all it takes for them to settle down. 
 I can totally imagine you two being the cutest fit couple EVER! I’m talking cute pictures at the gym, and maybe even starting up an Instagram page where you post workouts for people to follow. OMG. Emily is also super supportive of this venture and uses her t-shirt vinyl maker to whip up cute matching shirts that say “Beauty” on your shirt and “Beast” on Jake’s with a picture of a wolf. 
Jacob loves going on drives, and you both will often travel further out from the reservation to find new hiking spots together. I’m convinced that Jacob is an amazing photographer on his off time from being a wolf and I could  see him taking lots of amazing candid pictures of you when you go on walks together through the woods. He posts the pictures on his photography Instagram page with super cute captions like “Out of all the flowers in the field, I’m glad I picked you” or “Stay with me forever and promise me you’ll never leaf.” Gotta love nature puns. 
Jake is a little more standoffish when it comes to meeting new people. He’s not as willing to be as friendly as you are, but he’s not rude about it. It just takes him some time to warm up to people and really trust someone. He really enjoys going to church with you and although he originally started going just to support you, he has found a genuine family there aside from the pack. Everyone loves him and all of the little boys want to be strong just like him when they grow up. 
He freaking LOVES that you’re so tiny and easy to carry. HA! He is constantly lifting you up over his shoulder and carrying you over rain puddles or just because he can. His dad is always playfully scolding him and telling him to put you down, but he never listens. 
“Just because you squirm doesn’t mean I’m going to let you go.” He teases you all the time. 
Every Sunday you head over to Billy’s to make Sunday dinner for everyone, and IF there are any leftovers (usually never), everyone is fighting over who gets to keep them. 
“Jake, you live with Y/N! You can get this good cooking all the time! You shouldn’t even be allowed to have any leftovers!” 
The fact that you have a motherly spirit is perfect for someone like Jake. He’s not a child, but he is a very sensitive person deep down and just needs someone to listen to him when he’s going through hard times or if he’s had a rough day. The pack is cool and all, but he can really confide in you, and that is worth so much more to him than anything else in this world. He constantly tells you that you’re going to make an amazing mom one day to his kids. He’ll text you all day long saying how much he loves you and misses you, and can’t walk without holding your hand. You’re his everything. 
Jake is always down for an adventure as long as you two get to be together. Loves sightseeing and learning the history of places. Always has a bag packed in case you randomly decide to book a flight somewhere. He’s protective and wants to keep you from getting hurt, but he also knows that you can handle your own and although you may be little, you are fierce. Just the way he likes you! 
Random Scenario - 
Your car had been making a weird sound for the past week and a half, and you finally decided it was time to take it into the shop to have it checked out. You pulled up to the auto shop, and Jake rolled out from underneath a truck he was working on, completely shirtless. You hopped out of the driver seat as he approached your car, examining it with his eyes, and you examined his perfectly ripped abs hoping he wouldn't catch you-
“What brings you in tod-” He completely stops in his train of thought now facing you with a look of concern on his face. 
You’re a tad bit weirded out, but proceed to explain- “My car keeps making a weird nose when I press the gas. Was hoping you might be able to help me.” 
Jake gulps and lightly shakes his head out of the daze he was in. He had imprinted on you. 
“Uhh, sure, I can take a look at it..if you want. But, if I’m being completely honest, this place is going to charge you an arm and a leg for a simple service.”
You appreciate his honestly, but now what were you supposed to do? He can tell you’re disappointed, but it was all part of his plan to have you alone and to himself so he could get to know you. 
“Oh, okay..well, thanks for letting me know.” You turn to walk away. 
“Wait! I’ll tell you what- how about you bring the car over to my place. I can fix it on the side for you...as a favor. I have a garage and tools, and you can watch me fix it. I mean, only if you want to.” 
Your beaming smile at his generosity is enough to make him melt, and the rest is history! (Wait, I might need to write this story now! LOL) 
Jacob deserves a love like this. 
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unsp0ken-details · 1 year
Moments to Cherish (2)
"Its so funny how so much of 'Finding Yourself' in adulthood is simply getting back to who you were and what you loved as a child" I've often thought about this and a part of me believes in this. As one grows over the years, we are exposed to more complex truths of lives, newer experiences, and live in the 'grey' - we go on a little quest to 'find ourselves': our true interests, what makes us happy, gives us true joy etc. In agreement with the statement, one of the places to find that is our childhood. Childhood: to the times where we loved, experimented, experienced, indulged without reason all while we were yet to discover the meaning of 'regret' and before applying the concept of 'overthinking'. One of my 'Happy Places' to be when I'm particularly in a thoughtful mood is thinking about my childhood memories. The things my friends and I did in school, Aadarsh's new antics, things I gave importance to, tactics which I thought made me smarter than my parents and so much more! I'd like to write about a few of them in no particular order: 1) I always liked have long hair. However, I didn't know the difference between straight/wavy/curly hair. I remember an image I saw on a magazine of a girl much younger than me (I was in grade 6 or 7 at the time) and she had a particular hairband that I wanted to pull of that look. Since I'd wash hair on Sat's I remember, getting that magazine, and wearing a black hairband with dots (the one I bought) and making sure I wore in how it was shown in the picture and feeling proud and waiting to pull it off better to achieve the length of hair she had in that photo. 2) 9 years of my formal education was in India and a majority of it included memorisation when it came to tests and exams. For the most part since childhood, I've studied alone but there were the few times I would go to Amma when I couldn't memorise a long answer. Having her simply read out the answer and break it into parts would make it SO much easier for me to learn (the part I'm conveniently skipping here is that they also involved crying if she decided to test me on other questions..) but nevertheless the end result was that I always hoped for this question to come in the exam as I was the best prepared. 3) "I don't care". I can't pin point exactly where I picked that up from when I was younger, but it was a brief phase where if anyone said anything/commented, I'd respond I don't care. Never to be rude, but I thought that's how it is used. However, a quick full stop on that phase came when I saw that my younger brother was picking up on it. Anything you ask him/commented, his reply was I don't care. The effect of this stayed with me for long, I have after that never used that phrase in a reply to anyone (except to convince people - good context). 4) Middle school years were interesting schedule wise. I enjoyed school and doing well, participating, taking up responsibility/roles etc. Amma would wake me up in the morning, shower (sometimes we settled on a bargain), she'd comb my hair and with a shirt, skirt, tie, belt, socks and black polished shoes and a heavy bag - we were ready to conquer the day. Amma would come down with me daily to cross the road and wait till the bus came. That's were I'd meet, Garima and Reeta aunty daily (her mom) and began our friendship :) I'd be back from school, change, eat and get back to STUDYING?! voluntarily. I enjoyed going through the diary with homework tasks or revise what we learnt in class. Made me feel productive. Evening would go down to play with brother or with Garima depending on what we'd planned that day during our bus ride back home. Would come back home by 8, it was always between 5-7 or 6-8pm. Extending this time by 30 minutes excited me more than I can believe now. Evening is when, appa would be back and I'd be having dinner by then, while we watched TV/news and slept. On weekends, I remember, I'd wait to start having my lunch around 1:30 as that's when "Karishma ka Karishma" came on TV and would go to amma's room where she was sleeping and watch that and then from 2-2:30 watch Kya Mast Hai Life (loved this) and quietly switched it off and came out to play with aadarsh. I still don't know why I didnt watch these in the TV in the hall or why I had to wait to have my lunch at that time (something with amma sleeping helped -- in the case that I might have to leave out some vegetables I didn't like having). 5) When I was younger (primary school years) and during a visit to Chennai, appa once asked Sruthi and I if we wanted to go to the beach at 5/6am. I was fascinated by the idea (not the beach, or the timing) but that appa wanted to do something with me and asked me if I wanted to join. I remember waking up really early, taking an auto and going Marina beach. We went near the water and it was a beautiful sight. Not many people around and just us three. Appa and kids. That's where I remember my chappal or maybe sruthi's floating away. There was a sudden rush of feeling scared since something we owned was going away + the risks of going to get it (I'll admit I tried and didn't think about the depth of the water/waves). Then a fisherman uncle as I want to call him - went into to get that chappal for us. I was SO SO THANKFUL and amazed that he'd do that for us. Now that I share this, I realise it was sruthi's chappal as I clunched on to mine harder. 6)  One of the things I maintained for many years was that I didn't like when Appa went on office trips. I believed that he went on those trips because I 'allowed' him. He'd ask me and obviously first choice is no but a small little explanation and I'd let him go for no more than 2 days (anything longer was only allowed counting flight hours). Now I'm aware it wasn't my permission as much as his convincing but now also I'd like if and push that they go through me (they do). The last permission I refused might've been me saying - Jakarta?! I don't want to move there and leave Delhi (I'd finally settled after 7 years) but same year we moved to Mumbai.... Another example with trips is that on one particular instance, I didn't want appa to travel. He was going to Mumbai and we were in Bangalore at the time and he said he'd go and come back the same day. I thought my crying made that happen (I really thought I influenced him a lot) but its something I didn't believe. He said he'd be back at 8pm and I remember standing in front of the clock staring at the wall for it to turn 8. It was the very first time I saw the hour hand in a clock move (Was told you cannot see it move as obvious as a minute hand). And to seeing appa at 8 - I thought that was magic. When I was younger, I refused to go to sleep when asked/earlier - purely because I hadn't seen appa that day. I disliked eating without him and sleeping without seeing him. Amma would push to go to sleep and I'd give in and do first class acting of closing my eyes if amma opened the door (I'd flinch my eyes because of the light so she always knew) but I thought I'd fooled her. I'd wait for appa to come and wish goodnight even if sleeping and acted like I was woken up by him (had to sell the story). 7) I remember vividly telling amma (was very very young) denying paruppu saadham once. I don't know why or how that when I said so and she didn't push me (it gets mixed with rice that she thinks I didn't know). Around the time is also when I remember I didn't like milk very much (especially the end part/last few sips). I'd drink 3/4 and on the pre-text of washing the glass, would throw rest of the paal. Again, thought I was SLY as a fly. But I am very very nervous doing something  like this so when appa called/saw me, I freaked out. Either he guessed or I owned up to it and we made a deal to not tell amma (I am sure this was broken from his end). 8) I wanted glasses, braces, to have a fractured arm/leg. Don't question me on these. I only got to try amma's glasses from now and then but she would not allow. I also wanted bangs (flicks, what it was called then) but had no knowledge of hair type/style. I tried to cut a small part over a period of days thinking its not obvious and would pin them so amma didn't see and when she asked - I said its new hair growing. Don't laugh. Now I am a MUCH MUCH better liar - to the extent that I'd like the opposite person to figure out I am lying sometimes. 9) I loved wearing heels. Its not the height or design but the sound they make. So, more than heels, LOVED wooden floors. I wanted them so I could wear heels and keep walking back and forth and feel like an office woman giving presentations/writing on whiteboards (also, my favourite thing when I went to appa's office). I remember I had a Barbie set I think (Heels + jewellery) - I thought jewellery sucked in design/flashy but heels I wore over stairs as the next best thing to hear the sound. But I didn't use it often because it was pink. 10) I remember the first time I was introduced to English songs and it was Love Story & Tik Tok. I didn't know where to hear it but wrote down lyrics from what my friends sang and daily night would read and memorize the lyrics with aadarsh. He picked up tik tok faster even. This was pre-youtube so the English song I discovered by myself was Ibiza because it was on our itunes on a Sony Vaio laptop. (I used youtube AFTER aadarsh who used it before me in Vietnam). - I'd shared that I like getting gifts under the pillow. For NY's once, aadarsh had Rs 50 and we went to a store and he asked for Rs 20 more from appa because we were at a store and I'd mentioned I liked a notebook that had a button to open and close. I knew he was getting it for me but wanted to get after I sat in the car and called appa to come to the store. That morning I woke up to aadarsh eagerly waiting for me to be up and said look under the pillow - and there he had kept the notebook that he bought with the money he'd saved for me. - Aaadarsh, when he was younger had a phase with hearing problem when we had ENT visits and hearing tests. I am not good with anyone close visiting the doctor for anything more than what's a normal fever/cold. ENT was a fancy name and hearing that he has fluid in his head for which he'd need surgery, was not a good news. I remember rushing home, sitting on the study table where I had a small glass ganesha idol (I won this in a Tumbola - Jaldi 5 contest) and I sat in front of the idol - daily for weeks praying that I don't want him to have surgery. After a few weeks when the doctor said, the fluid reduced and he doesn't need surgery - I went to say thanks and never made a wish after. - Aadarsh calls me Akka. He's seldom called/used my name in a sentence. I can't imagine him saying Pavi. But when he was about 3-5 years, my favourite & precious gift is him writing - Happy Birthday, Akka with amma holding his hand and finding that in the morning. However, the habit to call me 'Akka; stuck because I said I won't talk to him if he doesn't call me akka. This tactic doesn't work now :/ - My most lasting impact on him was when I was disappointed at something aadarsh did/said (not acceptable behaviour) and I said I wouldn't talk. I didn't and just when I was to give up (I can't stay mad at him), he'd gone crying to amma and appa asking them to convince me to speak with him. He literally hugged it out with us both making promises. - I learn better when I teach aadarsh. I've taught him grade 10 math, economics etc in grade 5 to help me learn. But grade 11 and me struggling with physics was an interesting experience. I was trying to teach him different types of energy (Kinetic, potential etc) and was highlighting the differences when aadarsh drew something he learnt at school that explained the concepts better. Here's my understanding of Potential Energy (imagining his drawing, a stick figure - moving from atop a cliff to the bottom has displayed potential energy. Not sure who can confirm this for me but at the time, what he taught me helped me manage that unit test.
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chiseler · 2 years
The Nuns
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Richard Chetwynd
Sister Mary knew how to run a classroom. She knew there was only one way, and nothing could persuade her otherwise. Her methods were tried and true. They had worked for her and worked before she, herself, had attended St Francis Elementary School, and they had been passed down the Order like the word of God.
Her greatest rival at the school was Sister Abuella. She was of the new breed; softer, kinder, more merciful and, according to Sister Mary, more likely to allow the students to slack off and shirk their responsibilities. Several students had caught the eye of Sister Mary for daydreaming the whole day, which she believed was the result of Sister Abuella’s leniency. Without discipline, the Great Tempter, who had a knack for targeting children, the least armored against His crafty machinations, would take up residence, and once that happens you need an exorcist to dislodge Him. Sister Mary had the argument of a pediatrician: preventive medicine was best. An exorcist was like open-heart surgery. Avoiding that seemed to be a goal worthy of the Holy Spirit. And what was more important than one’s spiritual health? To Sister Mary, it was all.
Sister Abuella told Father Mike that such an interpretation of the spirit was counter to the most important teachings of Christ, which, according to her understanding, stipulated that the spiritual state of the child was pure innocence, and, therefore, much closer to the Holy Spirit than even Father Mike, or she, if she might be so bold to say so. Father Mike saw her point, and was especially taken by the shape of her mouth when she bowed slightly after questioning the depth of his faith, but he knew too in his heart that such innocence as the child’s was where Lucifer sought entrance, and he was never going to stand in the way of Sister Mary, whose work had already produced 5 CEO’s, 10 professors with tenure, and 3 novelists, one of whom has been on the NY Times Bestseller list for months. Still, Father Mike was sympathetic to Sister Abuella—such beauty
was bound to have rightness on its side—she was younger, and seemed to connect with the students in ways he himself had tried to cultivate but failed, thanks to his having never really been a kid but a priest in training since birth. The fact that she was front-cover beautiful proved her faith, a faith that was the obverse of the Lepers’ and therefore more selfless, or so it seemed to him.
Sister Mary had a very effective method for dealing with students who had trouble concentrating on their lessons. She’d start by strolling between their desks with her hands folded throughout the exercise. When there were a number of unruly or drifting students at once, she’d rearrange the seating so she could stand among them at the center of their angular circle. Arms folded across her ample chest, she was a sight the children avoided by keeping their eyes on their own work; her hulking figure in proximity was enough to dampen their natural inclinations, at least as long as the lesson lasted.
A couple of years ago, Sister Mary’s methods took a curious turn. The school cafeteria was in the midst of remodeling. The children sat at their desks eating their lunches and sipping their drinks brought from home. This went on for six weeks while the workers completed the remodeling. One day, toward the end of the work, Sister Mary walked into the cafeteria just as the workers wheeled in an enormous carton box containing one of the new energy-efficient refrigerators. She found a Catholic among the crew, and the cornered Rodrigo agreed to deliver any future refrigerator boxes to the rectory basement-door, and stack them neatly on the gravel. Once a week, Rodrigo brought the boxes and Sister Mary had Mr. Johnson, the janitor, stack them in the maintenance room, and to wait for further instructions. Finally, after accumulating more than enough boxes, Sister Mary relieved Rodrigo of his charitable work.
It was because of these boxes and Sister Mary’s grand strategy to combat not only the spiritual demise of her students but their intellectual sloth and scatter-shot attention that had Sister Abuella so upset.
Sister Mary had prayed to the Blessed Mother which gave her frustrations a deeper perspective, and in all her thinking she had come to only one plan, and it was final. Sister Mary was
one of the more decisive nuns in the convent, and Father Mike always experienced a slight trepidation at the threshold of one of her uncompromising decisions. Being a Catholic school, there was a certain pedagogical autonomy when it came to the behavior of children. We educate, you maintain, that’s the Catholic way. One could mind his or her own business, or go to hell.
But Sister Mary wasn’t inhuman. She knew her children were worthy of Christ’s grace. She knew that the Holy Spirit was in all of them and her job was to bring it to the surface regardless of how deeply it was buried. She despised failure, which she associated with Satan, who had failed as an angel, failed to be grateful. The Holy Spirit was to be spurred through the power of the intellect, and if she was to make good Catholics they would have to have minds as sharp as thorns. Nothing killed the Catholic brand quicker than uniform stupidity.
Mr. Johnson presented Sister Mary with a box-knife and a demonstration as to its proper use, and even though Sister Mary’s posture told him she was growing impatient, he didn’t rush but repeated a few of the most important details. As per her instructions, he took one of the big boxes to her classroom and stuck it flat behind the bookcase. That day, Sister Mary got to class 15 minutes early to prepare her box. She cut the flaps and an extra foot off the top and bottom, removed a giant U from one side, then folded it flat again and slid it behind the bookcase just as the first students were entering the classroom, a few of them glancing at the lengths of cardboard on her desktop, which Sister Mary nonchalantly slid beneath her mat while the students settled.
She took roll, noting Samantha’s absence. From the back of the class, Johnny Roberts, keeping in character, had balled a sheet of paper and flung it at Faith O’Malley on the other side of the room. Everyone giggled, which caused Sister Mary to turn from the blackboard where she had just written a sentence they were about to dissect. She saw the ball’s final erratic movements across the linoleum floor. Johnny, of course, was buried deep into the surface of his desk. The rest of the students had straightened their posture and had folded their hands. Without hesitation Sister Mary retrieved her box and then took a few steps toward the center of the class, addressing her students in a calm, relaxed manner.
“If someone does not tell me who is responsible for the missile that flew across my classroom, you will all go to detention. Before,” she raised her finger, “that is, you go to Hell.” She paused. “Why to Hell for such a small sin? I’ll tell you why. Our Father in Heaven knows that I am here to serve Him and His Holy Spirit by serving you, and that you are mocking me and shielding a sinner, someone who would interrupt the education provided by God and the Holy Spirit, someone who is obviously acting on Satan’s instructions. Now, I’m going to leave the classroom. I expect to find upon my return the name of the perpetrator on my desk.”
Sister Mary stepped into the hall and walked toward the main office. When she got there she poked her head in, smiled at Claire the secretary, and walked back to her classroom. The students were as she had left them, sitting upright, hands folded, eyes front. On her desk was a piece of notebook paper with the name ‘Johnny Roberts’ written on it. She noticed at once that it was written by his hand. It was exactly the result she had wanted.
“Miss O’Donnell, please vacate your seat and move to Mr. Robert’s seat. Johnny, please take Faith’s seat.” She put her hands at her hips. “Let’s move, God doesn’t have all day.”
The students switched seats, got settled, and all together they folded their hands and looked at the sentence on the blackboard: “Life is 90 percent how you take it, and 10 how you make it.” But Sister Mary wasn’t ready to begin the lesson. She still had Johnny’s sin to attend to. Though he had confessed, there was still penance to do.
She took her flattened cardboard box in hand and held it before her. Faith, along with the other fifth-graders, was staring intently while Sister Mary unfolded it and stood it up. Johnny had opened his notebook and propped a pen into his hand. Sister Mary then asked the class what they thought the box might be for. Most students crinkled their mouths and brows, and would never have thought to give answer. A few of the more naive ones spoke up, one of whom noticed the refrigerator markings on the boxes’ flank.
“Quite right,” said Sister Mary. “Used to be. Now it is what I call an FTS Box. Any among you know what FTS stands for? No one? Well please, allow to me to explain: it stands for Fix TheStudent. Does anyone know how it functions? No? Well, please, allow me to demonstrate. She loved that “allow me” opening; it gave whatever she said the requisite tint of humility.
Johnny knew it before he knew it, knew that the box had something to do with him. He was always the cause of Sister Mary’s anguish, not to mention Sister Abuella, Sister Rose and Sister Lorna. He couldn’t help himself, he was like that. He had let his pen drop to his desk when Sister Mary raised the box above her head as if to illustrate how insignificant, how light it was, how as an object it practically lacked substance; to Johnny she looked like a wrestler about to toss her rag-doll- opponent from the ring. She stepped forward and set the open box down over Johnny’s desk. He didn’t dare move. He could see the ceiling or blackboard, walled on 3 sides. To the left and right, Sister Mary had written slogans with a sharpie: Face Front, Pay Attention.
Not only did Sister Mary keep Johnny in his box for the rest of the semester, but she relentlessly lobbied Father Mike to ensure that Johnny, no matter which class he was in, no matter who was the teacher, that he would have to sit in a box from beginning to end. She convinced Father Mike that, for a case like Johnny’s, it was the only thing likely to work, and that she could prove it. “Let it go and watch the improvement,” she had said.
Johnny’s grades did improve. Father Mike had all the usual arguments against such draconian measures but he couldn’t dispute the results. It wasn’t long before you could walk into any classroom in the school and find several students sitting inside recycled refrigerator boxes. In the meantime, Sister Abuella had a minor breakdown, and had to take a leave of absence from teaching. She wrote several accusatory letters to Mother Superior about Sister Mary’s merciless measures, letters which Sister Carol shared with Sister Mary, her old classmate in the convent. Father Mike visited Sister Abuella several times to help calm her down, and to see if she might not want to be transferred to a diocese more in line with her soft approach, Africa, for instance.
Parents complained, at first, but Sister Mary was always able to address them personally, and she had the backing of Father Mike, who didn’t dare question what was working. Christ, after all, suffered for his glory. It was as Christian as feeding the poor. Johnny’s parents threatened to keep him out of school, but finally relented when they saw that other children also had to sit in boxes. “It’s cruel,” they seemed to say, “if Johnny was singled out for a box.” Sister Mary explained that they really had no choice. Don’t think of it as a box, she said, think of it as a tiny classroom in which Johnny is the only student. You parents pay a pittance for that kind of one on one attention. Peter and Catherine didn’t want to remove Johnny to the public school system, which everyone agreed was a politicized disaster zone bent on quotas and memorization, and they also knew that he wasn’t the best student to begin with. He had difficulty concentrating for more than a few seconds at a time.
After the first semester of boxes, parents of other students insisted that their children receive boxes too. It was, the argument went, totally unfair to make their children, whether they had concentration problems or not, to sit in an open classroom without the benefit of the boxes’ focusing aperture.
Sister Abuella couldn’t understand it, so she decided to pray more, and Sister Mary, pushing 70 from a family of disease-prone devotees, prepared herself for an eternity among the angels of God, guarding the realms of the Holy Spirit with whatever it takes.
by Richard Chetwynd
0 notes
durkio20ff · 2 years
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I exhaled going through my twitter, seeing as I was tagged in so much shit. I didn’t expect Durk to post Kapri, I didn’t even expect for this shit to unfold so fast. 
Niggas will cheat. No how much they say they care about. 
And that bitch knew we was together. Grimey. Oh well. Fuck her, him and the baby.
I won’t apologize for posting my child, but obviously India is spreading a false narrative that can fuck up my reputation. Looking down at Kapri with her sippy cup in hand as she fell asleep drinking her water, I propped myself up and went straight to my twitter to clear the bullshit up.
FilipinoBoricuaLee @KiannaLeeDeLaOz
First of all, me and Durk wasn’t a fling, I was WITH this nigga for two years. They had broke TF up. My child was made while they weren’t together.
9:34 PM - 6/28/2021 - Twitter for iPhone 
FilipinoBoricuaLee @KiannaLeeDeLaOz
Had I not removed myself, I’d still have him sis. So check yourself. And secondly keep my child out your mouth. I’d hate to have to violate you.
9:36 PM - 6/28/2021 - Twitter for iPhone
I listened as my front door opened. Already knowing who it was, I rolled my eyes and placed my phone on the nightstand. I heard his footsteps before he appeared in the door frame.
“Stop going back and forth with her”
“No, check that bitch. Talking about fuck my child. Our child... that shit is out of line. And that’s the bitch you returning to tonight”
He laughed, removing his shirt, and laying on the other side of Kapri. What the fuck was he doing. 
“Fuck her Kianna. Deadass, and I put her out. I just wanna be with you”
I exhaled and shook my head.
“I don’t have time for the back and forth shit. And you wouldn’t be saying this had I not posted Kapri”
He shook his head, leaning down to her neck and continued to kiss it. He was in love with her. I love their bond and watching her with him. Joined at the hip. And as was Kapri with her other siblings. His oldest 3 are very well present in Kapri’s life. In fact, I’m close with their mothers. Angelou, Bella and Zayden come here sometimes and all. No shady shit against India, but we kept shit strictly for the kids. She couldn’t do the same.
“Nah, I planned on ending shit with her. She, just .... she’s just not you. Ima go to court for Willow and all. I wanna be with you and only you”
I exhaled. This all couldn’t be at the wrong moment. And Durk has a interview  with Big Facts here in Atlanta, I just gave them lighting fluid for the fire. Cutting the light off on my nightstand, I turned the TV on and relaxed my nerves.
I wasn’t gonna let that shit ruin the fact that my baby is gonna be 1 soon and this party is gonna be live as hell.
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Charlamage: How long you been in the A now? Like how you like it
Durk: I love it. Whole different vibe from... from Chicago. A lot more welcoming. Shit is smooth.
With the stupid shit that transpired yesterday, work still continues. I had to fly out here to NY for some promo so I mind as well hit the breakfast club. Ain’t nothing came up about the shit with India, but I feel it coming soon. So far they been keeping it professional instead of personal.
DJ Envy: What’s the difference for you? 
Durk: I mean, Atlanta embrace me. I can get more work done, more focused. The music vibe is there too. You know, more family vibe. It’s all love. Drop the beef and get to the money. Chicago, everybody trynna... step on everybody. Niggas reckless.
Angela Yee: Mmmm
Durk: Yeah, Atlanta had what I needed. I had to make that move.
Charlamagne: You talk about giving back to Chicago, looking out for the kids out there, what’s your plan.
Durk: I bought out a fucked up school that got tore up years ago. Revamped that shit, turned it into a youth outreach program. You know, the goal is to, get niggas to see that we gotta be the change, but with how they are out there, it’s hard. Cause ain’t nobody trying to hear that shit.
Angela Yee: In the mean time, just doing your part is all you can do right now
Durk: Fasho. I play my part how I can, team up with my niggas that done seen shit and we get shit.
Angela Yee: Iight so you know we gotta address the latest news in. First congrats on ya babygirl, she’s beautiful
I laughed and nodded my head.
Durk: Preciate it, preciate it. 
DJ Envy: How.... how did the drama come about online?
I exhaled and shrugged. One thing me and India agreed on was to never run to the internet. I think that shit only applied to certain shit because she emptied the clip. Had my business all on The Shaderoom. And not that I give a fuck cause I ain’t did shit wrong but, I mean damn. It’s like that.
Durk: I mean.....I never cheated. Me and her weren’t together. I met Kianna a month or two after we broke up and we was together. Real live relationship. 
Angela: So there was no back and forth running?
I shook my head
Durk: Nah, Kianna wasn’t and wouldn’t go for it.
Charlamagne: See, my whole thing is, if we ain’t together, what I do outside of you doesn’t matter
Durk: Fasho
Charlamagne: Do you think ya’ll can see past that and be together again.
Durk: Nah, for starters, I ain’t... I don’t wanna be in anything I’m not happy in. And once you say, fuck me, fuck my child, shit is done.
Angela: yeah that was disrespectful
Durk: Durk, so it’s up, and it’s stuck. Ain’t no coming back from that.
Charlamagne: What about Kianna? She fine? She off the market... tell it?
We all laughed and I exhaled.
Durk: Stay tuned
Angela Yee: No wait, we need more on that than that. I mean she’s a beautiful girl, amazingly talented, She’s done my hair before as well as many of the women I know. She has a product line coming out. Like that’s a ideal women, and I don’t say that just because I know her.
Durk: Nah, I love her. I loved her then, I love her now. Time will tell. She know my heart and where... where we stand on shit.
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jawira707 · 2 years
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Miraculous Ladybug New York Special fanfic - On the Plane
Info: I read yesterday that some people wanted a sweet Adrinette fic, where they fall asleep next to each other on the plane like they did in the Startrain episode. So I hoped someone would write that. Then I thought, maybe I should write that. This is my first fanfic  in nearly one year I think, but why not, why not...I hope you like it! (Spoilers (even though no major spoilers) from the NY special!)
Word Count: 1462
Summary: Adrien had never fallen asleep on a plane, Plagg was on the Titanic and Mari had no earplugs with her...but luckily, they had each other.
Pairing: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Warning: None
(Disclaimer: this fanfic is not sponsered by Air France, but I want them to know despite my critique they’re still 100 times better than American Airlines. Merci)
Title: On the plane
Adrien had never fallen asleep on a plane. No matter on how many trips he had gone, to the US, to Italy, even to Australia and China - mostly business related traveling in first class because his father insisted on that-, he just couldn’t get used to the dry air and the constant noise of the machine. He vividly remembered being scolded for not trying to rest and being too tired for shootings after they had landed, but luckily Gorilla didn’t care, absorbed in his own little word, listening to his meditation podcast, while Adrien kept moving around in his seat trying to find a more comfortable position. He was tired of scrolling through the entertainment program on his screen and additionally, he started to feel cold.
Looking around in the dark, he tried to find anyone that was not asleep, another classmate to talk to, but all the lights were out and he could hear snoring all around. I should have stayed in Paris, he thought guiltily, I should have convinced my father to let me stay. But how? Another voice in his hand, that suspiciously sounded like Plagg, replied. If Ladybug ever finds out, she would be so mad at him. Putting his head in his hands Adrien felt terribly alone, wishing once again his partner knew his real identity so he could explain to her why everything was so complicated at times.
„You’re here for Marinette and your friends too, remember“ The little whisper in his pocket really came from Plagg this time.
„Sorry, did I wake you up?“
„Sleeping with you is like being on the Titanic. And trust me I would know, because I was there! Do you ever sit still?“
„My leg has fallen asleep“
„I have never heard that human body parts sleep separately…“
„It’s just a saying Plagg“
„Well, then here’s another one. Stop worrying so much! Your friends are happy you came“
„You just want cheese and you know it“
„Sure. I live in France to go for cheese to the United States…“
„But you said-…“
„I want you to have some fun, kid, just relax!“
„I can’t“ Adrien gave back, tiredly. Finally giving up on trying, he stood up and started walking back and forth between the rows. The sun hadn’t risen yet and there were still hours to fly. Yay.
Suddenly he saw someone getting up a few rows in front of him. The person was stretching and didn’t seem to be headed to the bathroom or elsewhere. As he approached, he could already tell who it was. He felt a wave of relief wash over him, already not feeling that abandoned as he had a minute before. Maybe he could talk to her? He just had to be careful not to startle her.
„Hey, Marinette“ he called out quietly.
„Hi? Oh…WOAH…I mean, hi Adrien!“ Marinette nearly stumbled as she turned around quickly, her elbow accidentally making contact with her seat neighbor. Her face had turned the color of deep red, but luckily in the dark, no one noticed. „What are you doing here? I mean, it’s nice that you came, it’s not that I don’t want you here, I just-„
„I couldn’t sleep“ Adrien gently interrupted her nervous rambling. „Why are you up? You’re not feeling air sick, do you?“ He remembered her mentioning this earlier, but Marinette seemed confused.
„Me? Oh…no, it’s a…calm flight“
„I’m glad to hear that“
For a moment there just stood next to each other in silence and Adrien wondered if she wanted to sit down again and didn’t do so out of courtesy. „Well, if you would like to sleep some more…“, he started, but didn’t finish because she shook her head.
„No, at least not here, our principal is snoring like a champion.“
Adrien chuckled at this.
„Oh..Adrien?“ He nodded, wondering why she suddenly sounded concerned. „Sorry, but are you feeling air sick?“ She felt stupid for not asking – he always was so caring, complimenting her and asking how she was doing. Maybe he had walked here not to chat, but to consult one of their teachers which were sitting next to her. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Next, she almost flinched away before she realized he had put a hand on her shoulder to reassure her.
„Ah non. Thank you for asking. I’m used to flying, I just don’t like it. It’s loud and stuffed…I know, I sound like a spoiled child“ He chuckled again,making her heart flutter. „Normally, I fly in first class. I’m more chatty when I get tired.“
„Do you want me to come with you? I mean …sit next to you?“ Wait, did she really just asked him that?!
„That would be great.“
„Let’s go“ Wow, Marinette congratulated herself, maybe it was because she couldn’t really see Adrien’s face and his beautiful, wonderful green eyes in the dark or because she also was exhausted, but she was sure that these were the first coherent sentences she had spoken to him recently. And now he was holding…her hand!
„I will lead you, be careful, there’s a lot of backpacks and jackets lying around“ he told her and she couldn’t disagree with that logic. Nope, it made perfect sense...
As they reached the seats, Adrien sat down first and this time she joined him without any hesitation. „I still can’t believe you convinced my dad to let me come“ Adien started, making her blush.
„Yeah, me neither. But I guess, he realized how important it was to us“
„Oui“ He sounded happier now. „Do you want to play a game?“
Adrien turned on his screen again. „There’s not a huge selection but there are some quiz games on here…alone it’s boring, but maybe it’s more fun playing together“
Marinette had no clue what he was talking about, but a few minutes later they both tried to answer questions of different categories as quickly as possible.
„Wow, I’m dumb“ Adrien said after the first round. „I have only 4/10 correct answers in the geography section“
„Geography is hard“ she reassured him.
„But I selected France, Paris as the main category“ And then she laughed and he laughed too.
„Well, Monsieur Agreste“ she teased him, again surprised about her sudden boldness, „I guess you have no clue where you’re living“
„True, I have not seen so much of Paris after all, haven’t I? If there was a category „My room“ I would win for sure!“ He kept on laughing, but Marinette realized she needed to change the subject.
„Let’s play this word game…it’s in English though“ „Fine, we should practice anyway“
It turned out Marinette excelled in this game and nearly found all the hidden words. „Can you find another one…one is still missing?“ As he didn’t answer, she turned towards him, realizing he was about to fall asleep, his eyes closed and him leaning back into his seat. „Okay... good night, Adrien“
She smiled and thought about getting up but just then the boy unconsciously moved his leg in front of hers. It’s not so bad, being small after all, she thought. All the tall boys had to be much more uncomfortable in the small space than she was. If she got up now, there was a chance she would wake him up. „Mari…?“ Speaking of which…
“Adrien?“ He didn’t seem to be fully awake, murmuring something unintelligibly.
“Please“ he whispered and she felt his weight against her side. He wasn’t heavy and apparently longing for contact, instead of actually falling asleep on her. His little „please“ moved something inside her and she placed his hand on his arm.
She couldn’t think too much about this, she realized.Therefore she closed her eyes as well, leaning into him as if to hide away from all her fear, her awkwardness and no matter how little sense that made, it worked. Adrien rested his chin on her head, her ear close to his chest, so that she now heard his steady and slow breathing. He felt so much better and warmer with Marinette in his arms.
The motor noises were still just as loud and the air just as dry, but there were by themselves in their little world, blocking out everything around them.
The little timer for the game on the screen showed 0:00 seconds and the score was displayed „You found 9/10 hidden words“ it read. The 10th word is „solace“.” Then after a few moments the screen got dark automatically, because no one had restarted the game.
Adrien shifted in his seat, pulling Marinette closer to him, sighing contently as he felt her wrapping her arms around his waist.
At the same moment, in a different time zone, the sun started rising in Paris.
And Adrien Agreste was finally asleep.
Thank you for reading! I’m always happy about reviews, here some little things that didn’t make it into the story:
- Marinette sitting on Adrien’s chocolate bar he placed on the seat next to him instead of eating it
- Plagg nearly getting stuck in the ventilation (a drama, really)
- Adrien and Mari sharing headphones to listen to music on the plane (classic to fall asleep or Jagged Stone to have themselves their own little party, your choice)
I hope you like this little story =)
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themsource · 3 years
Fransweek 2020 Day 6
Theme: Fairytale Rating: M TW: Parental Abuse Pairing: (Faerytale) FT Sans/Frisk Word Count: 8,165
This wanted to be more than a one shot so I apologize if it reads funny at all ^^; @fransweek​
Frisk was crying, her hands shaking and body numb.
A new purple bruise forming already on her arm, just above her elbow. Deep down she knew she’d probably deserved it, but it didn’t make the shock or sting any less.
She sniffled as she walked, her eyes staring at nothing as her thoughts roamed. Frisk didn’t have a destination in mind nor a goal, she just let her feet carry her aimlessly further and further from her house. She only wanted a break, a place to gather herself.
That’s when she saw it.
The trees parted ahead, a small trail of shorter grass among chest high fauna that led away into what looked like a brightly lit alcove.
Frisk stilled as she stared at it.
Had it always been there? How far had she wandered from the village?
She glanced back behind her and contemplated returning but loud shouting still echoed in her head. How seething rage made her ears ring had Frisk swallowing nervously.
Exploring a little longer wouldn’t hurt her.
What could go wrong?
Steeling her racing heart Frisk turned curiously to the path and pushed ahead, her eyes wide and observing as the fauna gradually grew contrasted and vibrant the longer she walked. Dulled greens shifted into brighter almost yellow shades and purples turned nearly cyan, the coloring giving an almost glass like effect that glimmered in the shaded light.
She stopped next to a plant that looked suspiciously like a sunflower, the petals giving a slight tingle to her fingertips as she lightly grazed the almost translucent edges.
She sucked in a breath as tiny tendrils wisped out and curled, almost latched onto her in a feather light caress. Blinking as she realized how bizarre that was she leapt back, hissing through her teeth as the tendrils seemingly dissolved at the loss of contact.
Frisk stood there dumbly staring at the seemingly innocent plant.
Shaking her head she decided to continue forward, her feet pressing into soft icy blue moss until she entered a wide open space.
Right away her eyes panned the perimeter.
There were tightly packed and thick trees forming a perfect circle that even a sheet of parchment would struggle to slip through, the only entrance or exit she could perceive being the path she’d taken, and not a single blade of grass appeared uneven in length.
It was calming.
Taking a hesitant step forward her eyes slipped down to a small pond perfectly situated towards the center but fading off into the treeline. Its crystal clear water, so pure that she could see the bottom swarming with plentiful fish and ivy, shimmered hypnotically beneath the small rays of light that pierced the trees canopy overhead.
But that wasn’t what had her attention..
It was a ring of mushrooms.
Pure gold and in perfect formation it sat precisely center and in front of the water’s edge, no other plants or weeds to be seen in the clearing aside from it.
As if entranced Frisk walked slowly closer, pausing as she noticed the grass at its center glimmered with a rainbow tinted light, refracted colors both alluring and mesmerizing dancing across the space big enough that she could lay in it with no problem.
It did look inviting, the perfect circle comforting to gaze at as if it was a golden wall against anyone that would try to harm her.
The thought of stepping in for a nap briefly flitted across her mind.
Her brows furrowed at how quickly she’d contemplated such a thing.
She...didn’t feel too safe suddenly looking at it.
The circle was so otherworldly and strange it gave her a sense of cautious foreboding.
She glanced around the beautiful expanse one last time before deciding she’d seen enough. If her gut was telling her this area was a red flag she wasn’t about to ignore it.
Frisk was about to turn and leave when—
“H u m a n,” Frisk froze in place, her heart starting to hammer like it wanted to burst from her chest.
She had been alone she was sure of it...human?
The voice spoke again, it’s cadence slow and almost amused sounding. “don’t you know how to greet a new pal?”
“turn around and shake my hand.” Slowly Frisk turned, ringing in her ears as her eyes locked on who had called out to her in a baritone so low she could feel it’s vibration practically in her chest.
She had to bite her tongue to keep from gasping in shock.
It was a skeleton, wearing a sapphire blue cloak with a skeletal hand outstretched, thick phalanges gently curled and, somehow, palm cupped welcomingly. Where eyes would be floated two orbs of white light, faintly bobbing as they locked on her, with a benign grin of wide and pure white teeth.
Despite how friendly and inviting his demeanor looked Frisk noticed his expression seemed disturbingly detached.
Another red flag.
Frisk’s eyes drifted down to the hand he held out.
His hand wasn’t reaching out pass the ring of mushrooms he stood in.
Her expression shifted. Hadn’t she heard a legend about mushrooms before? Magic circles given form through nature as a way to warn mortals?
She swallowed.
“I uh…don’t want to be rude but…I don’t want to?” Her words hung in the air between them, his expression slowly changing as his grin stretched and his hand dropped by his side.
He let out a lighthearted chuckle.
“smart kid, the handshake routine rarely works but it’s <em>always</em> funny when it does.” Frisk felt the tension leave the air and couldn’t help how she instantly relaxed. The skeleton’s whole persona had flipped like a coin at her rejection, he appeared so casual and easy going.
Like he’d just tried to play a joke on an old friend.
She let out a hesitant smile.
“I’m Frisk…nice to meet you.” The monster raised a skeletal brow, his smile remaining on his face as he observed her silently. The time he took to look at her seemed to stretch to the point Frisk squirmed in place and the intensity he’d been directing at her softened.
He let out a snort. “i’m sans. sans the skeleton.”
Frisk and Sans continued to watch each other, the lights in his skeletal sockets brightening curiously as he tilted his skull. She was an odd child to him. He’d never seen a human with eyes the color of sunlight before.
It was such a unique feature.
“never seen a human with yellow eyes before.” He commented.
“Never seen a talking skeleton before.” Frisk responded absently.
Sans snorted as he contemplated her, Frisk taking in the situation with a puzzled glance. He wasn’t advancing, making any kind of move to get closer to her from where he sat cross legged and slouching.
He was at least a good inch from the ring’s edge closest to her and that allowed her to conclude that so long as she didn’t cross into the ring of mushrooms she was safe, from what she still questioned.
No one in the village ever elaborated as to why they warned about the rings. No matter how hard she thought about it she couldn’t recall much in the way of conversation about the whole thing.
Was it Sans?
She supposed he looked intimidating, being a skeleton.
She took a sharp breath as she pulled her knees into her chest. Noticing the way his orbs of light followed the movement.
He certainly was fixated on her though.
“What are you?” Her voice came out slightly raspy.
Her question hung in the air as Sans flickered his gaze up to her eyes, his sockets lidding as his grin stretched.
Frisk couldn’t see the humor behind it.
Something about the way he looked at her was guarded, shaped to give a sense of security and shrewdness like a mask. “i’m a seelie.”
Frisk blinked. “A what?”
Sans’s skull flexed, both of his eyebrows raising at her humorously but his carefully constructed expression remained firmly in place. When he spoke his tone was light, curious.
“you don’t know who the seelie are?” How she shook her head had Sans eyeing her suspiciously. Frisk looked at least sixteen, well past the age that she should’ve been told the legends of his race.
Had humanity fallen that out of touch with them already?
“well,” He started as he looked away briefly before looking back at her with a sneaky grin. “i’m a fairy you could say. a fae.” Frisk raised a brow this time.
“I don’t see any wings on your back, and you’re a bit big. Thought you said you were a skeleton.” Sans’s sockets creased along the bottoms as he responded in a lackadaisical tone.
“i’m a special type, i’m winging it honestly.” Her expression went closed at first before slowly slipping into measured amusement. It didn’t escape his notice that she almost looked afraid of laughing, cautious of offending him.
Smart girl.
“W-was that a pun?” Frisk asked as she tried to cover her mouth. Sans closed both his sockets full of smug brevity. “dunno, did you find it punny?”
Frisk broke into laughter, unable to hold it back and Sans found himself grinning widely.
He liked this human.
“seelies are beings responsible for the magic in your world, the unexplained.” Frisk’s laughter petered out and she looked at him in confusion.
“The unexplained?” Sans lazily gestured around them and all it took was a quick trace of her eyes along the grove for her to understand. Her cheeks turned red as she faced him again.
“Wow, I didn’t know Fae made such beautiful things.” His smile strained, and Frisk tensed at the slight growl in his words. “not all fae do.”
“All?” She questioned.
Sans’s face was dark, and his tone dropped. “we’re not the same as the unseelie, the dark fae…not exactly.”
How did she not know this?
Frisk felt her heart race as she swallowed thickly.
“What do you mean dark Fae?” Sans’s eyelights? shrunk slightly and his tone was carefully schooled as he looked at her neutrally.
He hadn’t meant to venture onto this topic but it was too late now.
“we seelie seek out humans to bring to our realm to help with our queens longevity, to strengthen our magical ties to the veil between our realms by unlocking the latent magic of your souls.” Frisk’s eyes widened.
“You turn us into Seelie?” Sans’s eyelights pulsed with something akin to humor.
“do you know what mages are?” She nodded her head and Sans was relieved he didn’t have to explain that to her. Why he was doing this in the first place he didn’t question.
“well that’s what you become. in turn for gaining magical abilities the cost is the world from which you come and your mortal lifespans. our world enables you to live as long as a seelie, and that gives the queen more life herself due to the increase in the potent magic. we have a fair give and take.”
Sans decided not to mention the cloisters.
“the unseelie…like to consume souls and steal bodies.”
Frisk felt her skin go clammy.That was something she hadn’t been aware of, something that could happen and no one would be the wiser. It terrified her, but she wanted to know. It didn’t escape her how Sans’s tone lowered though, became almost gentle.
“unseelie at their best just like some fun usually at the expense of others, however that’s rare. they believe that by increasing their own magic themselves they can support the balance of our worlds on their own merits. instead of drawing magic from it’s natural place they make it to where they can unnaturally produce and draw it from themselves. consuming a human soul makes that possible.”
They consumed human souls?
“How?” Sans’s expression didn’t shift but his eyelights dimmed as he took in her reaction.
“your spirit and wills are strong enough to rival our magic when on equal footing. fusing the two together, a human soul with a monster makes…a freak of nature.” Sans’s smile went tired.
“our method, giving humans our magic is more of an evolution for your species not a senseless genocide where one has to sacrifice for the other. plus ours can be…reversed. if ever a mage were to leave our realm for too long their ties to magic would fade, and gradually they’d begin to age again.”
Frisk was silent and Sans wondered if she would be able to take everything he’d told her. It was a lot to tell a child, and it was more than possible that she was now scared of him.
But all Frisk did was smile at him.
“I’m glad you’re a seelie.” Sans, confused, lowered his mask back into place. If she were an adult, an educated one, he doubted she’d be saying that. But still he had to know what her reasoning was.
It was unexpected, even unnerving, how relieved she sounded.
“why do you say that?”
“Because I wouldn’t want to be scared of my new friend.”
Sans was speechless.
He’d explained the nature of his race and it’s counterpart, told her how his basically kidnaps and steals away their mortal rights, and yet she was still saying something so pure and honest that it hit him right where his soul rested.
She didn’t even know him.
They had just met.
But Frisk so quickly trusted him. Considered him a friend, even when that was a dangerous decision she perhaps shouldn’t make.
Seelie and Unseelie were different yes, but it was still a fine line between them that could blur. One easily crossed often on accident.
It made him wonder if she considered them friends so quickly from ignorance, though she looked old enough to know better,...or loneliness.
Was that what had lured her to his grove?
Her honey colored eyes were glowing as she looked at him, and he couldn’t help how his soul thrummed under its gaze. However his eyelights quickly locked on an ugly purple mark on her arm the moment she shifted in place.
His sockets widened.
It was then that Sans realized it was loneliness, that this little girl had never been loved before.
And that woke, unsettled, something in him.
“...i’m glad you’re not scared of me either frisk.” How radiant her joyful laugh lit up her face and echoed around the clearing left him mute.
The surrounding light dimmed and faint darkness fell like a blanket over them and he peered up to see the budding horizon of the night sky fading in through the groves canopy.
Sans looked back to Frisk who had followed his gaze and he was speaking before he could think about it too hard.
“it’s late, you should get home. don’t want to get lost do you?” The slight wince on her face nearly made him inwardly frown but he remained outwardly expressionless.
“I don’t really want to.” He forced a smirk.
“sorry kid, but a growing human needs rest.” He held his hand out from where he sat. “going to say goodbye?”
Frisk looked ready to reach forward, automatic politeness guiding her but pulled back at the last second, her eyes narrowing and nose wiggling in a look of incredulousness. “Hey!”
Sans chuckled and gave a lazy shrug.
“seelie i did there did you?” Frisk let out a scoff as she stood and wiped the grass from her clothes. Shyly she looked up at him and Sans cocked another brow inquisitively.
“Can I come visit again?” He didn’t know how to respond so he said, “sure kid.”
His eyelights didn’t leave her until she vanished back through the concealment barrier to the grove, his mind wondering just what he’d gotten himself into, and his thoughts drawn to the golden eyed girl with fascination.
Oh well, maybe she wouldn’t come back after she let what he’d told her register.
Sans was proven wrong the moment he felt a disturbance in his magic the next day.
“hey kid. back so soon?” he held his hand out habitually and her deadpan nearly had him chuckling.
“So I passed my classes.” He tilted his skull as his hand lowered back into the confines of his cloak.
“that’s good, which ones?” It shocked him how easily he fell into the conversation. Such a mundane topic when compared to his Seelie knowledge but engaging in how Frisk so eagerly spoke about her rather boring day.
She looked so happy to have someone listening.
It made his soul shiver unpleasantly, in a way he wasn’t familiar with and caused his skeletal brows to furrow. He pushed it down and focused instead on how Frisk’s hands moved so quickly in her excitement, the small limbs emphasizing her words.
“Math and English are my favorite subjects.” Frisk exclaimed with a toothy smile as her hands wrung.
“english huh? my brother likes that subject.” Right away he saw the silent question in her eyes and Frisk perked up as he started to go on a long and drawn out spiel.
He looked so animated and expressive as he playfully joked and told her embarrassing stories.
She’d always wanted a sibling.
And she wondered what that would’ve been like.
“Wow Papyrus sounds like so much fun.” Frisk’s voice came out hushed.
Sans’s sockets crinkled with genuine happiness through his mask, and his voice was brimming with affection that it made Frisk blush.
“ya, he’s the coolest.” She smiled at the clear love in the skeleton fae’s sockets but then she noticed the moment his eyelights brightened, his smile turning mischievous.
“you could meet him y’know.” Her chest warmed at the prospect.
“I could?” Sans closed one socket and held his hand out.
It made Frisk deadpan. “Let me guess I’d only have to take your hand?”
He closed both sockets and didn’t reply. His smug silence was answer enough.
Frisk tried not to let her disappointment show, instead she blew out her cheeks and rested her chin on her knees in a pout, earning a silent snicker from the skeleton.
The kid was cute.
Her visits became a daily thing, three days turned into a week, a week into four, and soon Sans started coming to the gate ahead of her. Waiting patiently but not long until her brunette hair peaked from the path with excited strides.
Sans didn’t know why he kept interacting with her just as Frisk didn’t know why the grove called to her each morning like a siren song.
And each time he’d offer a hand, each time she’d turn him down.
Frisk’s eyes though never failed to glow with her joy at his presence and his eyelights always expanded happily in his sockets.
It was as if he gave her the moon each time he showed up to greet her. And he felt his soul start to give a pitiful flutter of platonic affection each time she went right into telling him how her day went.
There were times however where Frisk wouldn’t begin talking right away and Sans, deeply perturbed, a tiny spark of rage boiling in his chest he didn’t want to look too hard at, would grant them both mercy and talk to her about his realm and the magic there.
Entertain her with fanciful tales and stories.
A lot he made up, but Frisk always stared at him with admiration nonetheless, latched onto the tales like a plant craving the smallest drop of water. She loved how he took her awe in stride, made his stories more exaggerated or wild just to see what he could get away with.
But as with all beings who started to care for each other…
The questions came.
“hey frisk?” He tried.
“where did you get that mark today?”
She didn’t answer him, only pulled her sleeve or pant leg a little lower to hide whichever one he could be referring to. And she, scared that if he knew how bad she often was to deserve such things, worried that he’d abandon her, and so changed the subject to a question he’d often answered before about magic.
He grudgingly let her, silently wondered when she’d break.
And one night it happened.
Frisk had never gone to the grove at night before, she’d never had a reason to.
But that night had been…bad.
She usually sought out Sans’s company after such episodes, a few jokes and his usual attempts to lure her away to his world somehow always made her feel better, but tonight she just wanted to be alone.
But not.
Honestly she didn’t know if Seelie needed sleep but if they did she was willing to at least be in the same place as where her friend always met her. Frisk knew the grove wasn’t his actual home, but to her it’s all she knew him to have.
And that was enough.
It wasn’t a surprise when she found the ring of mushrooms he usually occupied empty. A group of fireflies tracing along the back of it and into the far off trees.
The sight of it though relaxed her and she fell into her habitual spot with a muted crunching of grass. Her honey colored eyes locking onto the Seelie gate with fondness.
She was a bit let down even though she’d known better.
Frisk let out a dejected sigh and slowly fell sideways, her knees pulling up to her chest as she let out a shiver in the slightly chilled air. It was a cool night, fall wasn’t that far off.
Would Sans still be able to visit once winter hit?
His explanation on the summer and winter courts hadn’t really informed her of that.
Her eyes had started to drift closed in her musings.
She jolted awake and sat up, her eyes automatically honing in on the ring before frowning.
It was still empty.
She blinked the tiredness from her eyes, when had she fallen asleep? And carefully looked around before pulling up short in surprise.
Sans was a few feet from her, looking at her curiously.
He was outside the circle?
“Sans?” In disbelief she pushed to her feet and froze.
He was tiny, came up to about the top of her hip.
Her brows furrowed.
Frisk was certain he was taller than this, he gave the impression that he was a good five foot at least. Though she’d never seen him standing before the way he typically sat gave her the impression.
His skull tilted in question. “what are you doing out so late?”
“Why are you small?” She couldn’t help asking. Sans let out a snort.
“i’m in your realm, not enough active magic here for me to be at full height.” Oddly she understood what he meant by that. Then it occurred to her…could Sans take her now that he wasn’t bound by the gate?
Was that a bad thing?
The impulsive thought scared her.
She took a cautious step back, tried to be subtle so as not to be rude but Sans caught it. His eyelights snapped to her feet before going back up to her face.
It was so weird to see him craning his vertebra to look up at her but strangely adorable.
“easy kiddo, i can’t take you anywhere right now. it’s only possible during the day, and i can’t just pick you up and go.” His smile was patient and reassuring.
“Why not?” Sans’s smile only turned even friendlier as he heard the uncertainty in her tone.
“remember the veil i mentioned? it’s like a magic curtain between our worlds. during the day it’s weakest on this side of it; meaning no seelie from the seelie realm can roam or exit through the gates but yet others can enter from this side. at night, it’s reversed. you as a human can’t pass through but any other seelie can leave if they choose.” Sans looked thoughtful for a moment before shrugging.
“as for why i can’t just pick you up and go, even if the sun were to rise well…that’s one of the rules of intent with magic. if you were to unwillingly pass through, my realm wouldn’t be able to…lock….you into place there. unless you consumed our food or something.” As a side thought he held his arms out and shrugged. “plus obvious height differences heh.”
Frisk looked confused as she ruminated on his words.
Sans was slightly worried she wouldn’t understand, but there wasn’t a simpler way to explain it without having an inherent touch with magic.
Still she surprised him as she so often did.
“Magic needs an anchor basically?” His socket’s widened and crinkled at the corners. He looked so proud Frisk couldn’t keep the blush from her face as he nodded. “more or less.”
Then something Sans would call realization flashed in her eyes and his expression went wide with shock as she suddenly bent down and pulled him up into an unexpected hug, her thicker arms wrapping him in a vice that made him let out a strained grunt as a blue blush flared across his skull.
“You’re so cute all tiny Sans!” She gushed as she spun with him on the spot. Sans went to protest, not really one for casual physical contact but went still as a statue as he felt something wet fall onto the crown of his head.
Frisk didn’t give him room to pull back, her soft cheek pressed into the side of his jaw and left socket as something dangerously close to a sniffle vibrated from her chest.
His tone was abnormally soft. “what are you doing out so late kiddo?”
Of course she didn’t answer him but he let her hold him for as long as she needed. When she finally gave him room and let him back down her tears were gone but her eyes were bloodshot, smile as bright as usual and eyes happy.
“Want to see my village?”
He’d seen it countless times already.
Sans and Frisk both grew closer; his nightly roaming visits spent strolling beside her through the quiet of her village, her free hours in the day put towards visiting him within the grove where he was forcibly bound to stay.
They made each other’s lives more interesting, exchanging puns and jokes while steadily learning the cultures and life of the other.
It was something Sans knew wasn’t supposed to happen.
Humans and Seelie weren’t meant to be friends like they had become. But every time he contemplated leaving for good, abandoning her, he found himself unable to. There was something about the honey colored eyed girl that drew him to her.
Only made him more insistent on trying to kidnap her back to his world.
It left a bitter taste in his mouth that she stubbornly never took the delicate step he needed from her. Even on the worst of days when she’d show up exhausted and on the verge of what his kind called falling down.
The day he finally called her out on it, had addressed it directly Frisk had simply responded as if they’d talked about it countless times before.
“you don’t have to put up with that you know. all you have to do is take my hand and you’d never have to worry about them hurting you again.” His soul twisted as she gave him a weak smile.
“You say your brother thinks of you as lazy but you really do work hard at your job.” Sans bit his tongue. Prevented the unspoken words in his head from slipping out and showing a vulnerability he didn’t wish the kid to see as he simultaneously discovered it himself.
you’re not a job to me.
The topic didn’t come back up.
The day came when he had to go on an assignment the queen had given him; it was to take no more than a week, a quick in and out of the Unseelie realm to monitor the dark fae for signs of treasonous activity.
But he worried.
Sans was good at being undetectable, it was going to be an all-around easy task.
Still it didn’t prevent the regret he felt at the withdrawal in Frisk’s eyes, the ache he felt in his chest at the sight of her smile falling into a frown when he told her.
Frisk didn’t want him to go, just the idea of him not being there made her feel hollow.
And he’d honestly thought she’d protest, ask him to stay. But instead she’d merely whispered, “Only a week right?”
He…was proud of her. How in stride she took the news. It was going to be the longest they’d gone without seeing each other since they’d first met but she held her head up and kept her heart hopeful.
His masked smile turned genuine in the way only she so often could make it.
“that’s right, i’ll even come straight here when i’m finished.”
Frisk’s eyes lit up and it made his soul swell.
She could manage seven days, she was sure of it.
All it took was her nod of acceptance before he vanished, the urge to end this task quickly burning in his skull.
Sans managed the job in three days.
A Seelie of his word the first thing he did was return to the grove once he left the Unseelie realm, his intentions to reassure his little human before dropping his report back to the Queen.
When he rose from the gate however the sight that greeted him made his soul freeze in his ribs.
The grove…was wilder, more tangled and unkempt. A blatant passage of time and his absence scarred across it.
And instead of the anticipated human child he’d grown fond of to meet him sat a woman, humming as she twisted some flowers she had gathered beside her into a delicate crown in her callused hands.
Sans’s eyelights nearly went out.
He hadn’t intended on having to deal with a human to collect, in fact it irritated him.
Sans had wanted to see Frisk.
With resolve he took a deep steadying breath and put on his practiced grin. He’d simply capture them and then return quickly before he had the chance to be missed.
“H u m a n,” The female predictably jolted. “don’t you know how to greet a new pal?”
She whipped around and timed slowed as his sockets shot wide, honey colored eyes landing on him and sending an almost crippling pulse of recognition through his magical leylines.
Only one human he’d ever known had that unique distortion.
Sans’s voice was shaky as he spoke.
Tears immediately ran down her cheeks as she smiled at him.
He didn’t know what to think or say, all he could do was pan her form, take in old scars he recognized on her knees and wrists. Silently acknowledged that she had matured in ways typical to a young human adult in her prime.
The little girl he knew was gone, and in her place was a kind and startlingly attractive woman.
His soul withered even as it heated up violently in his chest.
“One more day, I can wait one more day I said.” Sans was frozen as she turned to fully face him, pulled her now long and elegant legs up into the familiar bend as she rested her chin atop them just as she had in her youth. “Welcome back Sans, I missed you.”
He felt his magic curl, caused a shiver through his bones as he swallowed and rasped thickly, “how long?”
“Three years.” Sans came to learn a day in the Unseelie realm wasn’t so liner as the human world and his realm were. He couldn’t think of what to say to her. Frisk though only continued to smile and did what she so often did, had only done a few days ago to him, and went on about how her day had gone.
How the last three years of her life had gone.
It made Sans acknowledge a harsh reality, and in his panic he interrupted her.
“come back with me.”
Frisk startled, her eyes wide but mouth closed in a firm line.
They both appraised each other like it was the first time they’d met all over again. Sans taking in how exactly she’d changed, Frisk noticing how he was exactly the same.
He didn’t want to risk losing her, never seeing her again if he was called to serve once more. She didn’t want to miss out on what life could offer her now that she was free from what she’d gone through as a child.
Frisk’s answer was like a blow straight to his soul.
Sans kept his gaze unreadable as she explained her reasonings, all perfectly understandable and valid for a mortal he acknowledged bitterly, and for the first time he couldn’t bring himself to stay near the human he’d grown so attached to.
To not feel so unreasonably angry at her rejection.
He left.
Frisk stared in shock at the empty ring, more tears now full of hurt and pain poured out, and she felt so awful at what she’d told him.
But she waited just as she had done before.
And when Sans returned, unable to stay away for long, they’d both continued as if nothing had happened.
His attempts became more ridiculous and endearing the more he tried and failed to lure her back with him as time passed. Frisk found it cute how much he wanted so badly to pull the wool over her eyes, almost hilarious how he worked so hard at it sometimes.
“Are you going to get promoted or something if you ever succeed at this?” She teased.
“nah, better.” Sans winked playfully. “i’ll get to keep you.”
Her cheeks flushed crimson just as his lit up brilliant cyan at the accidental flirt. They purposefully ignored it, not realizing how both their souls had given a firm thrum in tandem.
It wasn’t hard to quietly admit to themselves that they had fallen for each other the more their blushes grew, the more awkward their chuckling became, and how a certain mood lit up the grove each time they met.
But then--their happiness was threatened.
His soul shook, somehow heard the echo of Frisk’s pained cry and sent a bolt of panic through his ribs as he shortcut to the gate from where he’d been with barely a thought. Just managed to peer into her realm as Frisk came running frantically into the grove, and witnessed her feet, bare and cut, giving out and forcing her to fall but a few feet from him.
He didn’t get time to question what was happening.
Sans’s soul was pounding like a drum in his chest, sweat beading on his forehead as he heard the cries of what was unmistakably an Unseelie making their way to her, the bloodcurdling screeching and demented laughter causing nausea to take hold of him as it passed the grove’s barrier.
Frisk was weak as she tried to push to her feet, her muscles strained beyond exhaustion.
Sans tried to phase outside the ring, struggled to concentrate his magic to break out into her realm but was forcefully refused as he let out a snarl of contempt.
He knew deep down that there would be consequences for their relationship. What decent Unseelie wouldn’t be able to smell the magic of his grove on her being? This had been what he’d feared from the get go other than the imposing laws of his people.
He was more shocked that it had taken this long for the inevitable to happen than the fact it was happening now of all times, with the sun high in the sky and the veil strong and resistant.
Sans could see the Unseelie coming for Frisk, the sick fae having taken her form in a demented play of mental torture. Naturally curled auburn locks turned stringy and greased threads that covered a face born of disgust and hatred. Leaking black socks with crimson eyes and manic grin stretched grotesquely in glee.
His sockets were wide as he fell to his knees.
If he was outside, if it was night he’d be small and limited but he’d still have enough magic to repel the creature. But he wasn’t and it was coming in fast.
Sans couldn’t let it take Frisk, if it did she…there were worse fates than death for humans in the Unseelie realm.
Time turned to an agonizing crawl as he locked his pained gaze on the woman he cared about.
Frisk had said she wanted to die in the human world among her kind.
...Never wanted to give up her mortality...
Sans was at a crossroads.
Down one path was honoring her wishes…but he’d lose her sooner than they both deserved or worse. The other path…was to risk her becoming bitter towards him for the blatant manipulation he’d be forced to use.
The chance she’d never forgive him for taking away her choice on how she wished to live and die.
His sockets flickered up to the blood stained grin of the corrupted fae, it’s eyes full of malicious intent and all he could think about was how she wouldn’t have a life at all if he didn’t act.
Sans made a choice as he offered out his hand to her.
Frisk glanced up and he could see the realization in her eyes as she reached the same conclusions he had a moment before only there was a silent debate in her golden depths, a struggling to find another way.
And that was what killed him the most.
Down to his bones Sans was a Seelie, full of the potential for corruption and cruel disregard that their dark counter parts thrived in. Sans was willing to use whatever method it took to convince Frisk to give into his selfishness, to alleviate his own fear without thought to any alternatives.
And that part of him burned with a smoldering fury as he embraced the anguish he’d have to cause her.
“frisk take my hand! please!”
He watched her hesitate, witnessed the Unseelie draw closer, and finally said the one thing he knew would break her, the image of her for barely a second overlapped by the young girl he’d met almost a lifetime ago that had opened his soul to emotions and concepts outside of what his race had taught him.
The little girl that had once so foolishly and easily trusted him.
“i love you…”
It came out barely a whisper so low it shouldn’t even have been heard under the thundering steps and screeching of the beast encroaching. But the sheer amount of honest emotion behind it and the way his face crumbled was enough for Frisk to catch it, feel the declaration innately down to her core.
The kind and ultimately selfless woman he knew her to be overrode the selfish side of her that wanted more than anything to live a normal life, one that had been so cruelly denied her by the ones that should have loved and cherished her above everything.
The way Sans had when she’d been nothing but alone and neglected.
He watched as the love he knew she had for him won out and without a thought her hand slid into his. Victorious and thrilled, desperate and terrified Sans managed to pull her in just as the Unseelie lunged for her and missed.
Sans cradled Frisk close to him as she passed out, his eyelight flaring threateningly as the Unseelie froze before the gate with a look so condemning and enraged he couldn’t help but to chuckle darkly at it.
“sup buddy? something slip through your fingers?” The Unseelie roared but Sans was gone before it could finish.
Sans was dutiful and patient as he brushed the hair from Frisk’s forehead, her shut eyes fluttering as she subconsciously leaned into his touch.
Her hair was softer than he’d imagined, finer. And the way her skin felt beneath his phalanges nearly made a rumble form in his chest. He didn’t want to stop touching her, it was almost unreal that she was here with him now.
In his home, his bed.
With a sigh he brought the cup of water to her lips and lifted her head slightly as he fed it to her.
It made a confusing mixture of smugness and sorrow coil in his proverbial gut to watch her drink it. To know he was essentially taking another decision from her by offering her Seelie nourishment as she slept.
The only loophole that allowed humans to leave sealed to her.
But she needed the energy to recover and he allowed the weak reasoning to act as a foundation to his justification.
Frisk looked so dehydrated and tired.
How long had that Unseelie chased her before she made it to him?
“Brother.” Papyrus’s quiet tone drew his attention and right away he knew something was up with how his younger brother’s sockets creased along the bottoms, a hesitance that wasn’t normal resting in them. “Undyne’s here.”
Sans looked down at Frisk a moment before pushing to his feet. “i’ll be back bro.”
“She’s a human Sans! You can’t just keep her!” Undyne shouted incredulously. “She belongs in the cloister with the others! A free roaming mage could be dangerous!”
Sans ignored her as he looked to their Queen, the King beside her scowling disapprovingly. Undyne had a point but that didn’t mean Sans had to acknowledge it. It was nothing but a possibility, a what if, and he knew Frisk.
She wasn’t like that. Maybe once he would’ve agreed but not now.
Toriel’s ethereal moon speckled eyes locked with his midnight dark sockets.
He was not going to let Frisk be squirreled away to an isolated place of stone and cold shouldered mages.
Forced to repeat her trauma in an entirely new light.
This fiercely determined woman who had remained kind and trusting despite her circumstances, who he’d just stolen everything from deserved so much more than that.
His soul wouldn’t allow it.
“every seelie is granted the right to a condition free wish from birth.” The silence was long before their queen spoke, the stares of all other Seelie present in the court boring into his spine with resentment and confusion.
“Are you sure Sans? A Seelie may only request this once.”
Sans didn’t answer, he didn’t have to.
Toriel simply nodded.
“Very well then, the human known as Frisk is yours. Just remember, she is still bound to the same rules as the others, she can never leave and any fallout from this wish is yours to bear alone.”
Sans had never felt so satisfied as he did shooting a smug glance to the passing guard before shortcuting.
The satisfaction didn’t last long.
He hadn’t expected Frisk to be awake when he got back.
Frisk was so happy she’d finally met Papyrus, he was everything Sans had ever told her and more. His smile did light up a room, made you want to cheer up even when you felt like the world was on your back.
But she wasn’t so thrilled to see where she was, numbly accepted Papyrus’s reassurances and allowed him to seat her and place a plate of food in front of her.
Frisk didn’t want to be rude but...
Sans watched Frisk hesitate, her hands shaking nervously. It made him feel low, so low because he knew what she was thinking about, what she was trying to do.
“frisk.” She looked up shyly and stilled as she took in Sans’s downcast glaze, the look was enough to fill her growing dread with dark confirmation.
The guilt radiated off of him and she felt her throat go dry as his normally deep baritone came out even deeper.
“i had to feed you…while you were unconscious.”
She didn’t respond and it was enough to make Sans look up to see her golden eyes focused on the spaghetti in front of her. Papyrus even looked sad as he ate but he didn’t say anything. Tried to offer them a meek privacy as he downed a glass of milk.
Slowly and numbly Frisk picked up her fork, and the resignation in her expression as she twirled the noodles and slipped them into her mouth killed Sans a little inside. He couldn’t bring himself to look anywhere but his plate.
A faint touch made him tremble.
His eyelights snapped up and looked over to see her free hand gripping his across the table. He glanced at her cautiously but she kept her vision steadily locked on the food.
Frisk gave his hand a soft but firm squeeze.
His soul wanted to break as he returned it and hesitantly laced his fingers with hers.
A blush just as vibrant as the first one she’d ever given him broke across her face and that was enough to reassure him. Sans had begun to eat again when Frisk finally spared him a glance. Her smile weak but there.
Frisk’s love for him hadn’t changed.
And Frisk...
She supposed…at least she had him and that was enough.
It was later, a few nights after she’d been told everything that Sans found her sitting on the front steps of their home. The glow from the red moon turning her golden eyes rosy as she stared up at it with a hard to gauge expression.
He hadn’t taken but a few steps when she spoke up, her words halting him and coming out shy.
“Did you mean it?”
Sans narrowed his sockets and looked down at his feet. “yeah.”
Frisk didn’t say anything so Sans took the initiative and walked forward to sit next to her, his cloak falling and engulfing his form as he looked up at the moon next to her. He felt a pit of anxiety in his ribs, a sorrow at how everything had gone down for her to end up here but not an ounce of regret.
He jolted but quickly stilled at the feeling of Frisk leaning against him.
She felt melancholic. A bit disappointed but still she let out a weak chuckle.
“You couldn’t have said you loved me before I almost ended up kidnapped?” Despite himself Sans smiled.
“nah, that would’ve been what normal people do.” Frisk tilted her head over to him curiously.
“I’m not normal?” She sounded so vulnerable and fragile that Sans sucked in a harsh breath. Gently he raised a hand and ran his phalanges through her hair, the feeling so much more satisfying than it’d been when he was small in her world and did it the first time.
“you’re special frisk. at least to me, i wouldn’t trade you for anything.” Frisk looked down and closed her eyes, enjoyed the soothing petting of her head as she let out a thoughtful hum. Slowly she pulled back and stared at him in a way that left Sans’s soul beating furiously into his bones.
“Kiss me?”
His sockets went wide, his eyelights swelling in size that they nearly took up the dark voids they rested in. He swallowed around nothing and cupped her face, his hands exceedingly gentle as he smiled with all the affection he had for her.
“i love you.” He repeated, this time long and low with his passion. Frisk’s cheeks turned scarlet and her pale lips curved into a heartfelt smile as her hands came up to cover his.
“I love you too.” Slowly Sans leaned in, gave her time to pull back if she wanted and hesitated only a moment more before pressing his mouth to hers, The bony ridges that lined his teeth folding down like lips to lock with her soft and supple ones.
Frisk’s eyes slid closed as a burst of heat shot down to her toes and suddenly she yelped into the kiss as gravity left her. Still holding contact her eyes widened as she glanced down to see they were floating, a beguiling bright glow coming from beneath Sans’s cloak that fluttered around them from the night air.
Sans chuckled from the surprise he felt rolling off of her and pulled her more securely against him before letting the kiss break, his forehead touching hers as his bright eyelights hazed and wobbled precariously.
“sorry, could say you really swept me off my feet.” Frisk snorted with a playful roll of her eyes.
“An eternity of puns, oh no, whatever will I do?” He pressed his teeth in a chaste kiss to her forehead.
“just go with the float.” Frisk chuckled and the both of them looked up at the moon. Perfect contentment and healing already settling in their souls as they held each other.
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