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songfell-ut · 4 years

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Chapter 13, something luck something

I gave myself the feels, @lostmypotatoes send help

Link here.

“…AND THIS, MY INTREPID YOUNG FRIEND, IS…THE ROYAL GUARD!! NYEHHHHHH!”

They’d stopped at the head of the staircase in the Grand Hall. Her new skeleton friend had thrown his arms wide at a line of monsters standing motionless in shiny black armor, as proud as a child showing a visitor his favorite toys. “NYEHHH,” he added reverently.

The Royal Guard was quite impressive, like gleaming statues that could come to life and kill you, but Frisk wasn’t scared. She could see their ears poking out from their helmets, and some of them looked pretty silly: a couple of dogs, a cat, a rabbit, a bug, something like a lizard or dragon…

But then there was their Captain, who had just removed her helmet. She did not look silly. “UNDYNE!” Papyrus blared at the tall, eyepatched fish-woman. “THIS IS KRIS! SAY HELLO TO HIM! …ER, UNDYNE? HIS NAME IS KRIS, NYEH HEH! …HE IS A HUMAN! …NYEH? UNDYNE?”

No answer. Undyne’s scarred, scowling, evil-toothed countenance did not waver. Her webbed hand was clenched on the shaft of her spear, cerulean scales and mostly-yellow eye glittering in the witchlight. Even her red ponytail looked menacing as it fluttered in the breeze of passing dignitaries.

The human’s path was clear. Her expression went blank with determination. Frisk looked around and saw vases full of fresh flowers against the wall; as the monsters glanced at each other in confusion, the child selected a vase, tossed out the flowers, lugged the vase back to the Royal Guard Captain, and, with one almighty heave, threw the water right into Undyne’s face.

Frisk woke him even earlier than they’d planned, looking as though she hadn’t slept and sounding very businesslike. Sans was too groggy at first to remember last night, and before he could wonder if it had even happened, she was already laying out their plan for the day.

And…it was not what they had discussed yesterday. It was the opposite. “Lemme get this straight,” he said when she was finished. “Ya don’ wanna sneak out anymore. You wanna tell everyone an’ their mom that we’re takin’ the monsters back t’the Underground as a goodwill gesture in exchange for more cool monster stuff.”

“Yes.”

“So we’re goin’ out as a big deal that everyone knows about, on purpose?”

“Yes.”

“We’re gonna let ‘em think you already cleared it with the King ‘n everything’s fine?”

“Yes.”

“That’s…that’s a big fat lie.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes it is.”

“No. It isn’t.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“I’m not an idiot, Sans! If we disappeared without any indication whatsoever of where I’d gone, His Majesty would assume I’d been abducted and send soldiers after me. I just woke him up a few minutes ago and told him where we were going, and why.”

Something about the way she said it made him ask, “And he’s okay with it?”

Frisk smirked. “We’re going.”

Departing with a lot of fanfare actually took less effort than Sans expected. All he had to do was go down to the stables, announce that Her Eminence was leaving immediately on an important diplomatic mission, hand over her written instructions, and then stand back. For once, his scariness was a real advantage: by the time Frisk brought down the group of silent, shivering monsters, the wagons were already in place, the horses hitched up, and the cargo nearly loaded.

The priestess had been busy mobilizing a small army of assistants, which was a lot easier than their original plan to have him teleport everything from her room. Their provisions and gifts for the Underground were brought down and loaded according to the diagrams Frisk had drawn for the monsters: one wagon was for Ice Cap, who would travel with the majority of the food, while the other had Pyrope and Vulkin, who were wrapped in fireproof blankets and seated away from anything flammable. The other monsters would ride with them in order to stay warm—the canvas wagon covers were good for privacy, but didn’t keep out much of the wind.

Sans had made himself scarce while the work was going on, but when everyone and everything was in place, he stepped up to make Frisk get in with the flame monsters instead of riding up front in the lead wagon. She’d been standing in a corner of the freezing yard to supervise the last preparations; in her full High Priestess regalia, she was as impressive as ever, but he’d watched her closely and seen her trying not to cough.

As her personal guard, and her…whatever the hell they were now, it was his duty to not let her get sick again, but his official consideration was for her safety. They were traveling with a cortege of twelve guards, which would deter most attackers and also help clear traffic ahead of them, but there was no point in putting her on display for someone to take potshots.

They wheeled out of the castle gates and onto the main thoroughfare just after sunrise. Sans wasn’t a big fan of walking, or being in the cold, but his slippers and overcoat were mostly adequate. He wished he could poke his head into the wagon to check on Frisk, but she had asked him not to let the other monsters see him yet; besides, he heard her humming at a couple of points and figured she was busy keeping them calm. Pyrope was a twitchy little bastard, and Vulkin had a bad habit of “helping” via lava, so he’d just leave her to it.

The day passed, and to their pleasant surprise, they reached Frisk’s house on the outskirts of the city long before dark. That gave them more time than expected for Frisk to unload the monsters and shepherd them into the house; Sans grabbed enough food for that night and the morning, and the attendants took the wagons and horses to the nearest inn. Two guards took up positions outside the house before they locked the door for the night, and that was that.

None of the monsters had spoken or made eye contact with anyone all day, to Sans’ knowledge. As soon as they were gathered in the dining room, the priestess allowed him to step in and say, “Heya.”

Frisk retreated as the monsters came alive, swarming around the giant skeleton and all babbling at once in frantic relief. He had been somewhat scary to them in the relative peace of the Underground, but seeing him now was the best possible reassurance that the High Priestess had not been lying or playing some kind of sick game with them: they really would be home by the day after tomorrow.

After a few minutes, Frisk came back into the room, bare-headed and wearing a loose white gown, for Sans to re-introduce her as “Kris,” the not-really-a-boy from the human delegation. Six of the eight remembered her, and Pyrope got so excited that he left a couple of smoking holes in the carpet.

When everyone was done eating and talking, Frisk directed Ice Cap to the attic, where they could safely leave the little window open to keep it cold, while Sans built up the kitchen fire and made an asbestos-blanket fort for the flame monsters. The others sprawled out on the beds or any patch of floor they could, safe and well-fed; still, Sans noticed how uneasy they were, and understood what that was like. He just hoped they’d be able to feel safe again.

Once everyone was settled, Frisk was nowhere to be found. Of all the damn places she could’ve slept in, Sans finally found her wrapped up in her cloak in the bathtub. “Frisk,” he said accusingly.

She made a noise explaining that she was fine, a monster could have the remaining bed.

“Nope.” The priestess squeaked as he bent to scoop her up in both hands. “C’mon, kitten. Time ta sleep literally anywhere else.” Before she could object, he walked her into the smallest bedroom, dropped her onto the bed, and threw a comforter over her. “There. G’night.”

Frisk struggled to sit up. “Wait, where—”

Sans lay down on the floor and sighed noisily. “We’re not t’the Underground yet. Let’s just go ta sleep, okay?”

“…Okay. But, Sans—”

The boss monster emitted a loud, sustained fake snore, cut short by her pillow landing on his face.

Either the demon-child was still satisfied from the other night, or they were just too tired to be reachable, because they woke from a dreamless night to another stiff, sore day of travel.

The monsters were more animated today as they loaded into the wagons, which Frisk took as a good omen. Granted, there was a delay when Sans got too close to the draft horses and scared them so badly that the grooms had to unhitch them for a quick jog around the block, but the crowd gathering on the street to watch still cheered and waved as they set off.

It was another bitterly cold day, and as Frisk leaned into Vulkin, she tried not to think too much about spending the night in the no-man’s-land. King Stephin had still been sleepy when they talked yesterday morning, and the best objection he’d come up with on the spot had been the diplomatic ramifications of bringing so many humans so close to the Underground. She’d countered with the proposal that they leave all their attendants at the border and have Sans handle both security and transportation from then on, as he was a monster and knew the area well. The King tried to backpedal, but Frisk had gone on about a smaller group being faster and safer, attracting less attention, needing fewer provisions, etc., until he gave in.

“Very well. I will ask His Holiness to arrange the necessary financial matters for each monster,” the King had said coolly. “I am trusting you, Frisk, to bring back favorable news, and prove that this mission is any better than a child’s tantrum over not getting her way.”

“I wonder that Your Majesty has ever spent enough time with a child to see one,” she shot back, eliminating any chance of leaving him on a polite note.

Unfortunately, Frisk was now so busy thinking of that conversation – and trying to ignore the bruises she was accumulating from riding in a big, jouncing cargo wagon – that she forgot to mention it to Sans until they stopped for a break several miles outside the city. He’d started bemoaning the logistics they had to work out for that evening, trying to get all these guys fed and coordinated and bedded down and what they were going to do with the horses, and she had to cut him off with “They’re not coming.”

The guards and drivers looked up from their roadside sandwiches at a furious, smothered explosion of sound. They glanced at each other as the massive skeleton growled down at the priestess, but she didn’t seem worried, so they resumed eating as Sans carried on snarling and gesticulating.

Frisk could understand why he was upset, but the third time he ended a sentence with “—‘n did I mention I’m not a fuckin’ horse?!” was enough. “Sans,” she said, and he stopped. “Calm down and think about it. This may actually be safer. Have I ever shown you how I can hide something with a barrier?”

“Uh…” The boss monster shrugged crankily. “I know you’ve got a lotta different tricks.” Snort. “Any chance ya have somethin’ that’ll pull the wagons for us?”

“Yes. You.”

Sans blinked, and covered his face with one hand. “God damn it.”

Frisk turned her back to the guards so she could grin at him through the veil. “It takes a lot of strength, but if it’s just the two of us and the wagons, I could keep us completely hidden for short periods,” she said, more somberly. “In your opinion, is it safer to move by night, or camp outside the border till morning and then make as much time as we can?”

The skeleton tapped his dusty slipper on the grass, thinking out loud. “It’s probably better t’go at night. A lot of this place is so flat that you can see fer miles on a clear day. I can get by pretty well in the dark, so yer right. If we don’t have all of these dorks walkin’ with us ‘n makin’ noise, you’d just need ta cover up the wagons. It’s mostly bedrock out here, so with the wind blowin’ the sand around, we shouldn’t hafta worry about tracks.”

“I see. How far should we try to get tonight? I don’t think we can make it all in one push.”

“Not if I’m all we’ve got,” he grumbled. “Let’s get t’the fence and see how we’re doin’.”

Frisk had a word with the drivers; when they started again, they went at a quicker pace, the better to reach their destination and allow the men and horses time to get back to the nearest village before dark.

She grew more and more apprehensive as the hours passed, and finally dug out her satchel of clothing, asking the monsters to close their eyes so she could change into a more practical dress than her High Priestess leg-trap. Not long afterward, the wagon slowed and ground to a halt; they were at the border, a day’s journey from the Underground.

Sans waited till the other humans were almost out of sight to tell the monsters, “Come on out, guys.”

All but the flame monsters piled out to stretch their legs and wings while Sans ran a trace of red magic along the wire fencing. Frisk watched him pluck at a seemingly solid strand, revealing a length of twine holding two cut pieces together. “Humans go in ‘n out this way,” the skeleton informed her. “’s like havin’ a gate. They just untie it and tie it back up behind ‘em.”

Frisk shook her head and hugged herself tighter under her cloak. Sans didn’t have time to admire how the cold air had turned her cheeks red, or be really irritated at how the men had all gawked at her without her veil, but he did it anyway while the monsters got ready to resume their places. “So,” the skeleton said, resigned, “how’re we gonna do this crap?”

Five minutes later, Sans was trudging along in the fast-fading light, his hands shoved in his pockets, the wagon’s shafts wedged between his wrists and his hipbones so he could pull it in lieu of a horse. Frisk sat in the driver’s seat of the second wagon, whistling softly and watching the tufts of red magic keeping its shafts upright. Sans had to admit that the flat terrain and the laws of physics made it easy to keep the wagons going once they’d started…but it still sucked.

“Are you doing all right?” the priestess asked at one point.

“Neigh,” he responded, and she started snrrking so hard that he threatened to stop and make her pull the damn wagon. Then he had to deal with that mental imagery until it got darker and he could focus on maintaining a tiny speck of magic to sharpen his night vision. It was nearly a new moon out, perfect for moving in secrecy.

It happened some time after midnight. The monsters had fallen asleep; the priestess was dozing, and Sans was on the verge of stopping for the night when a shriek rang out from the wagon behind Frisk, who nearly fell off her seat. Sans had to lift her down for her to run back, leap into the wagon, and rouse Vulkin from a nightmare, humming urgently to quiet her.

“Shit,” Sans muttered as a torch flared in the distance. “Hey, kitten?”

She didn’t waste any time: a whistle raised a golden bubble around them, and Sans winced at the sheer power crackling through it. For the first time, he found he was less worried about being trapped inside a barrier than he was about the amount of magic it was costing her.

Minute after minute passed. Strange human voices drew way too close, and Sans could only stand there while Frisk held the spell steady, diverting enough magic to soothe the terrified monsters. The giant skeleton had no idea how she was blocking both sound and light and hiding the barrier’s presence from the other side while she hummed, but she did it, because the poachers soon concluded that it’d been a false alarm and wandered back the way they’d come. “They’re gone, sweetheart. Drop it,” Sans ordered, and he heard a ragged sound as the barrier evaporated.

That was enough. Sans set the wagons’ brakes, grabbed as many rocks as his remaining magic could carry, and formed stacks under the shafts to hold them upright, then stuck most of his head into the back of the wagon. “I’m so sorry,” whimpered Vulkin. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s not yer fault,” he said roughly. In the monster’s glow, he could see the priestess lying on the wagon floor, resting her head on her forearm as she struggled to catch her breath. “Hand ‘er over.”

Later, he would kick himself for dragging Frisk into the cold again, but he had to see for himself that she was okay. Sans bundled her under his coat and sat down against the wheel, folding her into the crook of his arm while he summoned up heat and softness, everything a skeleton usually couldn’t offer.

That was all well and good, but as she turned toward him, trying to reach up around his neck, something weird happened. He allowed her to stand on the ground and rest her weight against him, her arms sliding under his coat and over his bony shoulders; he’d almost gotten used to that amazing, fluttery, possessive thing his SOUL did when she was on him, but this time, it got physically warmer, and he felt like something was…leaving him? What—

Frisk’s whole body jerked. She pulled her head back enough to stare at him. “Sans? What did you do?!”

“I…” Sans had to close his sockets against a rush of dizziness. “I dunno.”

The priestess withdrew her arms and looked down at her hands. She raised one and snapped her fingers, and another barrier roared to life around them. “What the crap, Frisk?” Sans rasped. “Ya don’t have the strength fer that!”

“I do now,” she said blankly. “How…how did you give me magic directly? Is it—”

Just like that, the dizziness had become full-on vertigo. “Sansy needs t’go night-night,” the skeleton mumbled, and the darkness politely stepped up to pull him back down with it.

A band of poachers had made camp near the river. Their sentry glanced up from his breakfast, then leapt to his feet and called out as someone emerged from the morning mist. “Whoa! Easy, pal,” said the stranger, stopping a polite distance away and holding his hands up. “We’re not lookin’ for trouble. I’m just checkin’ somethin’.” He made a strange face, as if he wasn’t entirely sure how faces worked. “Have ya heard who’s s’posed to be out here right now?”

“Maybe,” the sentry admitted. He eyed the interloper’s oddly pale hair, the contrast it made with his black coat and red shirt, and lowered his crossbow. “Depends what you’ve heard.”

“Someone from the High Priestess is passin’ through, doin’ somethin’ with a buncha monsters,” said the newcomer, lowering his arms very slowly. “I was makin’ sure ya weren’t them. We’re pretty new at this, so—”

The sentry gave a bark of laughter. “Dumbass! It’s the High Priestess. She’s out here with nine or ten monsters, all by herself.”

“Really?” The stranger blinked too many times. “Hot damn.” He laughed, too, sort of. “Too bad we can’t get magic outta her, huh?”

The sentry leered at him in male camaraderie. “Ever seen her in person? I know what I’d get out of her!” He slapped his leg, oblivious to the stranger’s twitching eye and clenched fists. “Well, if you’re new to the business, take it from me: keep any humans you find and save ‘em for ransom, ‘specially her.”

Blink. “Ransom?”

“Yeah. Ransom,” the poacher said impatiently. “You know who her dad is, right?”

The pale-haired stranger blinked again. “Duke Whatshisface?”

“Seriously?” The sentry shook his head in disbelieving pity. “Her dad’s the King, dipshit. You never heard about it?” He gestured expansively with the crossbow, enjoying the stranger’s dumbfoundment. “No joke. The old man used to fuck anything that’d hold still long enough. There’s five or six kids left that we know of, and she’s his favorite.” His grin broadened. “You really didn’t know? Man, you’re fuckin’ stupid.” He flapped his hand. “Get out of here. Go on home before you trip ‘n kill yourself.”

In a daze, the stranger put his hands in his pockets and turned around. “Oh, by the way,” he said, and without warning, something erupted from the ground, impaling the sentry’s foot.

His screams brought his comrades running to see him clutching a huge white bone sticking out of the bedrock, and a stranger pointing wildly toward the river. “Holy crap, it came from over there!” he shouted. “It’s that big-ass skeleton thing! It’s definitely over there!”

Only one of the poachers tried to say, “Who’re you?” before another line of projectiles slammed into the ground heading away from them; he ran to follow the rest of the group, leaving the luckless sentry to try to wrestle the bone free. When he looked up to demand the stranger help him, there was no one there.

“Fuckin’ fuckstick,” Sans muttered to himself from a few hundred yards away, jerking a hand to summon more bones and make it seem like they were still under attack. “I oughta fuckin’…” He kicked a rock so hard that it hurt his stupid wimpy human toe.

Fuck-a-duck. He couldn’t go back to camp like this. With the mist covering him and the poachers haring off in the opposite direction, he could think things over for a minute, starting with whether Frisk had ever come out and said who her father was.

…No, she never had. He’d just remembered something about Rosa – who he now knew wasn’t even her mom – working for a duke, and reached a reasonable conclusion that was totally wrong. It was probably such an open secret that she either hadn’t thought to tell him or hadn’t wanted to in case he treated her any differently. She was probably sick of that already…

Sans was too lost in thought to see something moving in the mist, following him away from the poachers’ camp along the riverbank. When he absently turned to stare at the water, it vanished, only to reappear as he turned again.

So, Frisk had pulled this crazy stunt because there was nothing else she could do about the monsters being sold. According to everything Sans had seen, only the Cardinal or the King could go over her head; therefore, while Duke Whatshisass was in charge of doling the monsters out to new owners, it probably wasn’t him who’d actually decided to sell them. The Cardinal hadn’t bothered her since she said she’d be retiring, and she hadn’t mentioned him at all, which just left the King.

Sans had seen for himself how much the old man treated her like a daughter, go figure. Knowing Frisk, she’d probably told His Majesty to his face that she intended to free those monsters, and he’d decided to keep her out of serious legal trouble and also remind her who was boss by ordering them sold right away. No wonder she’d been willing to flip him the bird right back by stealing the monsters and getting public opinion on her side.

Against all logic, Sans felt his poofy lips curling upward. In a weird way, this was the push he needed to be a little less miserable about not deserving her and a bit more smug that she’d picked him over the zillion guys desperate to snag an illegitimate princess. At this point, she transcended the concept of anyone deserving her. He still thought he sucked, but so what? If he hadn’t imagined what she’d said the other night, then…

The mist was beginning to thin out as the sun came up. Sans paused and glanced behind him, but nothing was there. He turned back toward their camp, reaching for his chain. Better not confront her about something she hadn’t really been hiding in the first place, though now he was determined to ask about her m—

Only the hiss of something flying through the air alerted him in time to fling up a wall of bones, barely deflecting a blow aimed at his neck. Before he could even swear aloud, more things came at him, and he instinctively turned to run away from their camp.

“Hey! HEY!” a voice shouted. Sans’ human ears perked up at the sound. “Come back here, meat-wad!”

His aim wavered as he threw a wave of pointed bones behind him, just missing the figure in the mist. It easily caught one and threw it straight back at him, only to see it glance off another wall of bone. “You!” the figure snarled. “How did you get Sans’ magic? Where is he?! Tell me, you damn coward!”

Sans dodged another one. “Hey!” Dodge. “Hey, listen, ya crazy broad! It’s—”

“Sans?” They both froze at the sound of Frisk’s voice. “Sans, where are you?”

The boss monster finally understood that expression about blood running cold. Fighting chills, he turned his head and opened his mouth to tell Frisk to run.

That moment of distraction was all the figure needed: Frisk came up just in time to see a bone spin end over end and smash into the back of his head, nearly knocking him out.

The High Priestess had heard Sans’ attack on the poachers as she was balancing a frying pan on Vulkin, who’d volunteered to help cook breakfast. Frisk just prayed Sans could divert them without killing anyone, or that he would at least try.

Several minutes later, though, he hadn’t returned. She was passing the pancakes around and had retrieved the bucket for more water when she heard shouting. Her stomach lurched at the sound of bones breaking. Sans!

Telling the monsters to stay put, Frisk reflexively grasped the bucket handle and ran out of the warded camp, keeping another barrier ready. “Sans?” She looked around, squinting through the last tendrils of mist. “Sans, where are you?”

She saw him a split-second before someone threw one of his own bones straight back at him. Frisk choked on a scream as he hit the ground, blood darkening the sand. “Sa—"

“Hey. You.”

Frisk gulped as their attacker advanced on her from the edge of the water. “What’d you say about Sans, human? You know where he is?” The tall monster emerged from the mist, removing her helmet as she glared down with one mostly-yellow eye. “Oh, come on! Don’t tell me you took out a boss monster! How’d you do it? Cheating?” She almost spat the last word. “Start talking, you—”

“Undyne?” Despite her fear, Frisk smiled. “Undyne, it’s you!”

A spearpoint flashed in the air, stopping the priestess as she tried to step forward. “How’d you get my name? Did you torture it out of someone, human? Huh? Was it Sans?!” The spear poked at Frisk, forcing her backward. “Tell you what,” Undyne snapped, pivoting toward the human-shaped boss monster, who was still struggling to get up. “Let’s assume you care at all about your accomplice here. Either you tell me what I want to know, or…” The spear rose.

“No!” In sheer panic, Frisk threw a barrier between Sans and the other monster.

A moment later, she realized her mistake: Undyne had only been threatening him, but as she looked back at Frisk, her gaze was now murderous. “That’s it! That’s how you did it! You used a frickin’ barrier!” She stomped the ground so hard that Frisk felt the bedrock tremble. “I ought to gut you like a fish, you damn cheater! Do you hear me? A FISH!”

“Wait!” The priestess held up her hands, too distressed to be amused by Undyne’s choice of words. “Undyne, please! I’m—” She bit her lip. That wouldn’t work; Undyne wouldn’t believe that she was Kris. It might make her so angry that she’d try to kill them outright. Frisk racked her brains for some way to prove it—she had never shown Undyne her scars, but…

The Royal Guard Captain scowled deeper, this time in puzzlement, as Frisk stared at the bucket dangling from her forearm. “You’re what, human?” Undyne demanded.

Frisk swallowed hard. “I want to show you something,” she said, and took a deliberate side-step toward the water, ignoring the raised spear. “It’s not a barrier, and it’s not some kind of trick. Just watch, all right? And don’t hurt him!”

Undyne glanced around them in case this was a diversion, and at Sans, now lying still and silent. Frisk saw him, too, and her expression made Undyne lower her spear ever so slightly. “What is it? Make it quick!”

Frisk took a deep breath. To Undyne’s bewilderment, the human’s expression went neutral. She went to the river, dipped up a half bucket of water, carried it back to Undyne, and threw it into her face.

Through the haze of pain and gut-wrenching fear, Sans distantly heard Undyne yelling at Frisk, and he felt the barrier she put up to protect him. He wanted to shake her for thinking of him and not herself, and for showing Undyne she could do it. Then there was a dreadful silence, and he couldn’t get up to—

“NGAHHHHHHH!”

Sans threw himself forward, not quite gaining his feet. Hitting the ground again on all fours, he looked frantically for Undyne and whatever horrible things she was doing to—

Frisk was dangling, not from a spear’s bloody point, but from Undyne’s bear hug as the dripping-wet monster swung the human in time to a joyous bellow of “My little bestiiiiiiiiie!”

What the…no, never mind. With an effort, Sans pulled off his disguise and tried not to collapse as the world lurched sideways. “Ow,” he muttered, just to be part of the moment.

Undyne froze, not quite releasing Frisk. “Sans? What the—where’ve you been?” she demanded.

Sans’ glare would have set a lesser monster ablaze on the spot. “Almost gettin’ murdered by yer crazy ass!”

“Really?” Undyne looked puzzled. Then her face lit up. “Ohh, that was you! Ha!” She gave her giant-toothed grin. “Sorry about that, boss. How’d you do that? And why were you saying all that crap to that human back there?”

“I was tryin’ ta throw him off our trail! We’re the monsters and the High Priestess!” Sans sat up and raised one hand to heal his aching skull, indicating Frisk with the other. “Now let ‘er go before ya squeeze her t’death!”

“Hm? Oh, right.” Undyne set Frisk down, letting the priestess catch her breath. “So you’re Kris, huh?” The Captain planted her hand on one hip, watching Frisk brush herself off. “Did you know she was a girl?” she asked Sans.

“Nope. She had us all fooled.” Sans closed his eyes to focus his magic. Fuckin’ Undyne. If he hadn’t been a boss monster, that would’ve killed him!

“It wasn’t my idea,” Frisk protested as she picked up the bucket. “I was only ten, and they said it’d be safer. Can I help you with that, Sans?”

Undyne waved her spear. “Whatever! You’re here now! Ignore him, he’s being a big baby.” She glanced around. “Let’s move out before any more damn humans show up. No offense.” Frisk inclined her head. “You say you’ve got more people with you?”

If the monsters had been happy to see Sans, they nearly turned to dust when Undyne strolled into camp and announced that she would be escorting them the rest of the way home. Once everyone had calmed down, Sans had to admit the fish-lady knew how to get people moving: they scarfed down the remaining pancakes and some leftover oranges, then loaded right up and took off toward the Underground.

“Man…” Undyne was holding it together better than he had the first time he found himself inside a barrier, only betraying her fear of the dome overhead with a tighter grip and her eye darting back and forth. “I can’t believe it. She really is the High Priestess, huh?”

“Yep.” Sans was very pointedly nonchalant, sauntering along as the barrier crackled and the fish monster twitched. Served her right. “She coulda killed me a zillion times over, but she never did. Hell, I tried ta kill her a few times, an’ she smacked me down without hurtin’ me.”

Undyne shook her head. “It’s just…Kris is back, and he’s a she, and she’s the High Priestess, and she’s crazy strong…but she’s still Kris. It’s a lot to take in, you know?”

“Tell me about it.” Sans adjusted his grip on the shafts. He was pulling one wagon, and Undyne was pulling the other one alongside him; all it’d taken to get her going was a hint that she couldn’t do it. She was puffing a bit, but doing well now that they were moving. “So how’d you suddenly know it was her?” the skeleton asked.

“It was from the first time Papyrus introduced us,” Frisk said from the driver’s seat behind him. “I thought Undyne must’ve been upset because she was thirsty, so I grabbed a flower vase and tried giving her some water. …In her face.”

Sans guffawed, freeing one hand to slap his femur. “How’d that work out? Did the nice fish say ‘thank you’?”

“No, she just looked surprised. I thought she was feeling better, so I went back and—”

“The little punk tried to do it again! It was the stupidest thing I’d ever seen, but the kid wasn’t scared of me at all.” Undyne shook her head. “Then the King ordered us to be friends with the humans, so I figured I’d be the best damn friend Kris ever had.”

“And you were.” Frisk sighed. “When we get there, Undyne, I have something for you. In fact, we brought gifts for everyone. Did Alphys ever read the last two Adventure Lady novels?”

“Nah, and it’s been bugging her for years, the poor—” Undyne’s eye widened. “No. You didn’t!”

Sans let them chatter, profoundly grateful that they weren’t doing that weird thing where women hated each other for no reason. Having Undyne on their side, both physically and for moral support, was worth a dozen other monsters. “Did you get him that outfit?” she asked Frisk, nodding at the boss monster. “He’s been growing nonstop, so after a while, he just quit buying new clothes. It drives Papyrus nuts.”

“He’s my bodyguard, and it pays pretty well,” Frisk explained. “Those were a bonus for helping me shop for everyone.”

“Nice!” Undyne couldn’t reach over and smack him in congratulations, so she contented herself with jerking her head. “Good job, boss. Way to find a nice—what do humans call it? A ‘sugar mama’?”

Frisk burst out laughing and couldn’t stop, Undyne joining in as Sans sputtered. Stupid women, he thought sullenly. Why couldn’t they hate each other instead of giving him shit?

A few hours later, Undyne called a halt. “At this rate, we can get there by nightfall,” she said, offering a hand to the priestess half a second before him. “Er…do you have to, uh, go?”

Frisk looked uncomfortable enough for Undyne to nod hastily and point behind the wagon with her spear. “Not much privacy out here. We’ll just pretend you’re not doing anything, okay? Here, I’ll dig a hole for you.”

If that was awkward – and it was – it was nothing compared to the piscine monster making the others talk to cover the sound of Frisk’s business, then leaning over and whispering to Sans, very matter-of-fact, “Is it just me, or is it weird that Kris turned out to be so damn cute?”

Sans wished the ground wasn’t so flat around here, because then he could find a nice big pit and jump right on in. Luckily, Frisk suddenly said to herself, “Oh, dirt, why now?” and stuck her head beneath the wagon to call, “Undyne? Can you please get the little gray bag out of my satchel for me?”

The Captain obligingly found the only satchel with human clothing in it, rummaged around, and tossed the bag over the wagon and into Frisk’s lap. The young woman mumbled her thanks, but sounded so aggravated that Undyne asked, “What’s up? Are you okay?”

A prolonged sigh. “It’s nothing, just a stupid, ridiculous thing that human females have to put up with.” Frisk came back around a few moments later, stuffing the bag into the satchel. “Now, once we reach the Underground, should we all come in through the Grand Hall, or should Sans and I go through the Ruins into Snowdin?”

Sans exchanged glances with Undyne, who was munching on a roasted potato as if it was an apple. “You’d probably better not go straight to Asgore,” she said reluctantly. “When Snowdrake came back, he was pretty messed up, and the King was…uh…”

“Not happy?” Sans guessed.

Undyne’s eye closed. “Yeah. Not happy.”

“We’ll tell him what happened,” piped up Vulkin from inside the wagon. “We all heard the humans talking. Lady Frisk’s in big trouble for bringing us home, but she’s doing it anyway.”

The monsters made generally affirmative noises, and Frisk managed a smile.

“You are?” Undyne scowled. “Here, we’ve got to get going if we want to make it home before dark. Why don’t you give me the whole story on the way?”

They did, starting with Frisk being brought to the convent after her stint in the Underground and her memories being removed at her father’s request— “Oh, crap, that’s right,” Undyne interrupted. “That scumbag said the King’s your dad. Is that true?”

Frisk looked down at Sans in alarm. “Yeah, that’s what the guy told me,” Sans confirmed, not turning his head. “He was talking about her being worth a lot for ransom.”

The priestess grimaced. “I might not be, after all this.” She swallowed. “I wasn’t sure if you knew. I’m sorry if I—”

Sans made himself shrug. “It’s fine, kit—kiddo. Not like ya ever actually lied about it.”

“I don’t get it,” said Undyne. “If your dad’s the king, why aren’t you a princess?”

“Because I was one of many, many children the king had with women he wasn’t married to,” Frisk replied. “To be a princess, I’d have to have come from his actual wife. The first queen died childless, and his second wife died having the Prince.”

Undyne started. “Wait, so he…with just anyone, and you didn’t even count? What the hell is wrong with humans?”

“There’s the million-g question,” Sans mumbled.

Frisk sighed. “Anyway,” she said, “once I stopped begging to go back to the Underground, I settled down and studied as hard as I could. I was ordained a priestess when I was sixteen—”

The story continued until it was time for Sans to pick up with how he’d been caught by a party of five sorcerers almost a month ago. “I figured I’d hang out in jail until someone came ta get me, then kill ‘em,” he said conversationally, “but guess who came strollin’ downstairs?”

“The Duke asked me for help. There was a huge monster in the cells, and no one could decide who would be suitable to take him,” said Frisk. “I figured he must be a boss monster, and I scared them with stories about how powerful he was and how lucky they were that he hadn’t destroyed half the castle already. Then I said I’d take care of him.”

“And you tried to kill her?” Undyne snapped at Sans.

“Tried to burn ‘er, squish her, and blast her,” the boss monster said, almost proudly. “Nothin’ worked. Next thing I knew, I’d signed up fer a month of bein’ a witch ta learn how to grow better crops.”

“Which turned out to be much closer to three weeks, thanks to His Majesty,” Frisk said sourly. “I had each of these monsters taken from humans who were mistreating them so badly that even the Church wouldn’t allow it anymore, and I brought them out here to keep them from being sold again.” Even over the sound of the wheels crunching on sandy rock, they could hear her teeth grinding. “The King knew what I wanted to do, but he thought I shouldn’t have to worry my pretty little head about it anymore, so here we are.”

Sans considered pointing out that the King probably just wanted to keep her out of trouble, but decided he’d rather not be murdered. Undyne’s sole contribution was “…Damn.”

They rolled along in silence. “In three days or so, we can go back to the village and pick up the grain and other things Sans ordered,” the priestess said. “It won’t feed the entire Underground, but it will help.”

“That reminds me, Undyne—ya know the big farm over that way with the maple trees?” Sans nodded in a direction. “She’s gonna get it fer us.”

The Captain gaped at him. “She what?”

“I shit you not,” said Sans. “The human who owned it croaked, an’ she’s been negotiatin’ ta buy it. Turns out bein’ High Priestess makes ya super rich.”

Undyne muttered something under her breath, taking a fresh grip on the wagon shafts. Then her head swiveled, and without being told, Frisk immediately began whistling again. The air around them, which had been a translucent gold, solidified until it was nearly opaque. “They can’t see or hear us at all?” asked the fish monster, glancing up warily.

Frisk shook her head, and paused long enough to say, “They’d have to literally be touching the barrier to know we’re here.”

“No kidding?” Undyne squinted to watch the far-off group of humans through the barrier. Sure enough, they were moving away. “So,” she said presently, “how long are you gonna stay this time? Another month?”

“’Bout ten days,” Sans answered for her.

Undyne nodded slowly. The whistling stopped, and the human said, “Yes, if all goes well. It depends how long Asgore will let us stay, and what we’ll be allowed to bring back to the castle afterwards.”

“‘We’?” repeated the Captain.

It took Sans a second to realize what Undyne was even asking. He and Frisk had yet to discuss whether he’d be coming back to the castle after her visit, but the possibility of leaving her hadn’t even occurred to him, and she obviously felt the same way. “Yeah, I’ve gotta learn more witchy crap,” he said, hiding his elation. “Plus, the more monster stuff she gets ta show the other humans, the less trouble she’ll get in fer cartin’ these guys off in the first place.”

“And I’m not pulling the wagons back on my own,” Frisk added.

“Got it,” Undyne murmured, and Sans breathed an inward sigh of relief. Another thing they needed to hash out: what to tell the other monsters about…whatever they were now. Everything still depended on him working on himself, didn’t it? It would be easier to learn to control his magic in the proper directions inside the Underground. Who knew? Maybe if he kept thinking happy thoughts and not actively loathing himself, it’d really be possible. Maybe, if he was in good enough shape by the time they straightened things with Asgore, they could really—

The priestess resumed whistling, snapping him out of it. Undyne began bobbing her head along with the melody, and immediately started getting the rhythm wrong, but Sans decided not to say anything; he had a lot more thinking to do before they got home.

Very much against her will, they left Undyne just out of sight of the Underground’s principal entrance. She would announce their arrival, see the monsters to each of their homes, and then report to Asgore; knowing the King would insist on the wagons being inspected before he allowed them inside, they would also remain here.

Undyne checked over the little group of monsters as they climbed out, then paused. “Hey. Sans? Are you…gonna talk to Her Majesty?”

Frisk knew a loaded question when she heard one. Sure enough, Sans took a much longer time to reply than usual. “Yeah, I kinda have to. If she’s asleep already, I’ll leave ‘er a note.”

“Okay.” The Captain picked up her helmet from one of the shafts, pulled it back on, and nodded to them. “I’ll be in Snowdin as soon as His Majesty’s done with me. Good luck, guys.”

“We’ll see you soon,” Frisk replied, giving her a smile and ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. This was it. They were here!

The monsters trotted off, and they very faintly heard Undyne hail the sentries from atop the rise. “Welp,” Sans said. “This way.” Frisk obediently grabbed her satchel, which she’d stuffed with apples and potatoes, and set off after him, trying to be happy and grateful and not on the verge of barfing.

It was another cold, boring day in Snowdin. The monsters were pretty sure they knew what was going to happen today – nothing – and that it was going to keep happening, and it was hard to care much about it anymore. Sure, Papyrus kept nattering about how Sans and a mysterious human had told him they were going to come back to the Underground soon and everything would be all right, but…Papyrus. The denizens of Snowdin carried on with nothing as usual, secure in the knowledge that—

Every monster in town stopped what they weren’t doing and looked around in confusion. Magic was building in the air like smoke from a barely contained fire; there was a hhhwp, and in the empty space in front of the skeleton brothers’ house, there now stood a boss monster in black slippers and a tiny human peeking out from beneath his overcoat. “I told you to wait,” she scolded him, moving the coat aside like a giant curtain.

“What? You were the one whinin’ about how cold it was,” retorted the skeleton.

“Hey!” To their surprise, Undyne sprang up from where she’d been sitting on the step. “Where have you nerds been?” she snapped. “It’s been five frickin’ hours! Were you talking to Her Majesty, or what?”

“Nah, we got lost in the Ruins,” said Sans. “Tori’s asleep, so I left her a note like I said. What’re you doin’ here already? Is everyone okay?”

Undyne looked at them narrowly, then said, “Yeah, it turned out Asgore was already in the Grand Hall, so we didn’t have to waste time finding him.” She had changed into the outfit Frisk remembered: a short jacket, wool shirt, long pants and red boots. “Everyone’s home by now. I left Ice Cap with his family a few minutes ago.”

Frisk nodded gratefully. “What did the King say?” she asked, setting her satchel down.

Undyne hesitated. “Well…he was happy to see everyone, but then they started talking about how the High Priestess was coming in through Snowdin, and he wasn’t happy anymore.”

“How not-happy is he, exactly?” Sans demanded. “Is Frisk in any danger?”

“Nope. The others kept going on about how you saved them from the other humans, and when I told him you were Kris, he got really quiet.” Undyne put her hands in her jacket pockets. “He said you could stay until we ‘know your true intentions.’ I have to babysit you, and he wants to talk to Sans as soon as possible, but that’s it.”

Sans and Frisk breathed sighs of relief. “Good enough,” said the boss monster. He stood on tiptoe, the better to see most of the way across Snowdin. “Where’s Pap?”

Shrug. “I don’t know. No one’s in the house. He must be at the store or something.”

Frisk rubbed her arms unconsciously, turning in circles to look around them, especially at the light-spangled house. “I can’t believe it,” she murmured. “I—” She swiped at her eyes.

The Royal Guard Captain stepped over to the High Priestess and put an arm around her shoulders. “You know what? May I be the first, K—Frisk, to say: welcome back.” She gave the human what was, for her, a gentle squeeze. “C’mon. We’ll introduce you to everyone again. We can take it nice and slow, no pressure to—HEY!” Undyne had spotted a nearby cluster of monsters staring at them. “What are you looking at? Haven’t you ever seen a human before? I know you have!” She pointed at Frisk, who was still tucked beneath her arm. “Remember Kris?”

Frisk quickly forgot her irritation as several monsters hurried over. “Kris! Bro!” One dinosaur-like creature shouldered its way through the crowd, hopping from foot to foot. “Is that really you? Do you remember me? Hi, Undyne!”

Of course she remembered Monster Kid, who was only a little bigger now, still wearing the same armless sweater—twelve years obviously didn’t go as fast for monsters as it did for humans! There was the bunny who ran the store, Gyftrot – stuff still dangling from his horns – a couple of the various dogs she’d petted and thrown sticks for…

Once the first wave of pleasantries had subsided, it was time to tell them the reason for her visit, what Sans had been up to, and why “Kris” had turned out to be a lady. She noticed a few of those who hadn’t greeted her falling back to go spread the news, but saw no signs of Papyrus.

She wasn’t the only one: right in the middle of a very important discussion on someone’s baby sister being ready to hatch soon, Sans let out a growl that shut everyone up at once. “Where’s my brother?” he asked.

Shrugs and mumbles all around. “He was staring at the river again,” volunteered Gyftrot.

Sans waited for more information, then nodded. “Okay, everyone,” he told the little crowd. “We’re gonna head inside for a minute. If anyone sees Pap, don’t tell him I’m back yet, don’t mention Kris, and don’t do anything to freak him out. Got it?”

A chorus of agreement. “Don’t freak out,” someone said helpfully to Papyrus, who had just stepped into view.

Papyrus froze, staring up at Sans. “BROTHER?” he said. Then: “BROTHER! NYEHHH HEH HEHHHHH!” He leaped up and threw his arms around Sans’ massive ribcage, doing a pullup of sheer joy. “YOU’RE HERE! YOU’RE REALLY HERE THIS TIME, LAZYBONES! I THOUGHT…THE GREAT PAPYRUS THOUGHT—”

“Yeah,” Sans mumbled. “Hey, Pap.” He hugged him back for a long moment, then glanced downward. “She said she’d bring me back safe, didn’t she?”

Papyrus looked at Frisk, who was grinning. He looked at Undyne, who was grinning and nodding. The younger skeleton released his brother and launched himself straight at his best friend, tackling her with a wail of “THANK YOU, UNDYYYYNE! NYEHH!” Before the Captain could correct him, Papyrus dropped her and caught Frisk up in a less forceful but similarly enthused hug. “THANK YOU, HUMAAAAN! I—” He stopped, and turned his head to look at her quizzically. “NYEH. WHY AM I THANKING YOU, HUMAN?”

“Ya met ‘er the last time we talked, Pap, in the dream,” Sans reminded him. “An’ you were right. She is Kris.”

Papyrus blinked, still holding on to her. “I SEE,” he said sagely. “NYEH HEH HEH! OF COURSE THE GREAT PAPYRUS WAS RIGHT! I…I…” His eyes rolled up, and Sans caught Frisk just before she hit the snow along with the fainting skeleton.

“Geez. He probably hasn’t eaten anything or slept in a couple days. No worries, we can fix that!” Undyne punched Sans reassuringly in the ribs, then bent and rummaged in her friend’s “armor,” helping herself to the house key before slinging Papyrus over her shoulder. “Listen up!” she shouted at the assembled monsters. “This is all very exciting, but these guys’ve been traveling for a couple days straight to bring the others back to us. We’ll see everyone in the morning, okay?” She poked Sans as he turned to teleport into the house. “Not you! Asgore’s waiting. Get your bony butt over to Alphys’ place before he comes looking for you.”

Frisk gripped his sleeve, but she made herself say calmly, “It’s fine. We’ll be here when you get back,” as she picked up her satchel.

He stared at her for a moment, then gently removed her hand, and was gone.

Undyne let them into the house, flipping the witchlights on and kicking the door shut as Frisk walked into the living room. It wasn’t the biggest or nicest of dwellings, and it didn’t help that Papyrus had probably been stress-cleaning—it would explain why the couch cushions were still damp from the last time he’d mopped them, and why the pet rock by the kitchen was barely visible under a pile of rock-candy shards. Had Sans set those out for his brother to use, just waiting for the pun to sneak up and hit him out of nowhere?

“Here you go, Pap,” Undyne said briskly, tramping up the stairs while Frisk marveled at how much smaller everything was than she remembered. The priestess heard her deposit Papyrus in his pirate-ship bed, slam the door behind her, and come back down to pull a kitchen chair out for Frisk. “Have a seat. Sorry, but they don’t have anything in the fridge.”

“That’s all right,” Frisk said. She unbuckled the satchel and offered Undyne an apple.

The Captain took it politely, but as Frisk glanced down to dig another one out for herself, the monster chomped the apple nearly in half, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “So,” she said casually, “what were you and Sans up to in the Ruins? No one’s dumb enough to just get lost in there for that long.”

Frisk felt her face grow stiff and hot. “I had to stop and rest because I used too much magic today,” she answered truthfully, and Undyne nodded. “I…actually, maybe you’d know this—is it possible for someone to directly give someone else some of their magic?”

The Captain paused, her eyebrows rising, a smile growing into a giant grin. “Haven’t you heard of—”

Frisk’s face got even hotter. “Not like that! I just mean, if you were weak and needed a little extra power, could, say, Asgore or Alphys give you a handshake, or a hug, and lend you some magic?”

“Nope. They couldn’t.” When Frisk looked skeptical, Undyne sighed, then made a fist. “Look, pretend this is my SOUL.” Another fist. “This one is…we’ll say Alphys.” Frisk wondered if it was her imagination, or if her friend’s face was turning red, almost purple under the smaller blue scales. “My body’s made of magic, and so is hers. But my SOUL is self-contained, and so is hers. Even if I took a chunk of my magic and handed it to Alphys—” She knocked her fists together. “Nothing would happen. She can heal me, but that’s just repairing damage, not giving me power that I could use to attack someone or do my own spells, assuming I knew any. There’s no way to combine or exchange magic unless you’re trying to have a kid, and that’s a whole different thing. It takes a lot of power and concentration, and…it’s different.” She was definitely purple now. “Why are you even asking?”

The priestess thought about it. She made a fist, and loosened her fingers until she could slide the fingers of her other hand through it. “After you left today, I was tired, and Sans gave me some of his magic again,” she said distantly. “Monsters can absorb a human SOUL, but…” Her fingers wiggled. “I don’t think it works both ways. Humans can’t take a monster’s SOUL, at least not directly into ourselves.”

Undyne suddenly looked very, very uncomfortable. “That’s true,” she commented, “for normal monsters. For Sans, the rules are a little different.”

Frisk was so startled that she dropped her hands. “Are you saying I was able to take some of his SOUL because I’m human and he’s a boss monster?!”

“Hell no!” the Captain snapped. More calmly, she said, “It doesn’t work like that. If you really took something from him that he couldn’t get back, he’d be acting a lot weaker, or he’d be dust already.” She shrugged. “If he did somehow give you magic and you had to wait for him to recover, and he did, then nah, there’s no permanent damage.”

That was something to think about. Frisk remembered last night, when she’d just wanted him to hold her. There was that jolt of energy, and he’d almost immediately passed out… She thought of a few hours back, when she’d gotten anxious and her magical exhaustion had suddenly kicked in, forcing her to sit down. Sans had – somewhat correctly – assumed that she was getting cold feet, gotten impatient, and picked her up, and when she turned to put her arms around him, it’d happened again.

Then, of course, they’d been in a uniquely ridiculous quandary where she was brimming with magic that wouldn’t help them get anywhere, and he couldn’t even stand up. Thank God she’d had something for him to eat in her satchel, or they might have been stuck out there all night waiting for him to recover. When she half-jokingly suggested she try giving his magic back to him, he’d almost bitten her head off.

Wait. Wait a second. If his magic was supposed to be so dark and terrible and evil, etc., how had she not felt anything like that from him, much less been poisoned? Frisk had the sudden, idiotic, schoolgirl-ish urge to giggle—did the good magic come out of the top half of his body, while the evil stuff came out of the other thing?

Undyne was shaking her head in wonder. “You need to tell all this to Alphys. She’d have a better idea of what’s—”

Crack went the window.

Both women whipped around at the sound of shouting outside. Undyne wasted no time, slamming her chair back and throwing the door open to roar, “What the hell is going on?”

A moment of quiet; it might have ended there if Frisk hadn’t peeked around her friend’s shoulder. A group of four or five young monsters stood a few yards away, holding stones, their body language scared but defiant. Their ringleader was a feathery snow monster who looked very familiar. “Chilldrake, isn’t it?” the human asked.

The hoodlums drew back as Undyne’s face darkened. “What do you want, kid?” she snapped. “If you’ve got a good reason for breaking Pap’s window, I’m listening!”

“We want her gone,” the drake said, shifting his feet and glaring at Frisk. “Haven’t you seen Snowdrake? He’s not Snowdrake anymore! How can you let a human in here after what they did to him?!”

“And what if she blows us up?” his friend added.

Undyne grabbed a spear from thin air and thrust it in the monsters’ direction. They shrank back, but stood their ground. “That’s not up to a bunch of kids like you,” the Royal Guard Captain snarled. “His Majesty said she could stay. Are you telling me you know better than Asgore?”

They shuffled back again, but a moment later, Chilldrake drew himself up. “Does he know she’s the humans’ High Priestess?” He raised his voice for the monsters standing nearby to hear: “Does he know she makes barriers?”

That got an anxious murmur going. Frisk felt sick; this was everything she’d been afraid of, no matter what Undyne said, or Sans. She glanced around instinctively, but he wasn’t there.

“He knows way more than you do, punk!” snarled Undyne. She advanced down the steps, leaving Frisk in the doorway. “Now get out of here before I get you out of here!”

“Fine!” Chilldrake shook his ruff, dancing a little in place. “If she’s here, it’s not safe anyway! We should all leave before she traps us and drags us off!”

The murmurs were louder and more upset now. The Royal Guard Captain looked at the other monsters in disbelief. “Guys, you were just telling her how glad you were to see her again! She’s the same damn person she was fifteen minutes ago! Are you going to listen to this little—”

“Is she really the High Priestess?” the shopkeeper asked Undyne.

The piscine monster’s face said it all. Too late, she snapped, “It doesn’t matter! She only uses her magic to—”

Everything happened at once. A stone came sailing over Undyne’s head, straight at Frisk, who did not stop to think that it was better to get a black eye or a bad cut than to confirm their worst fears. Reflex kicked in, and a barrier flared in front of her, pinging the rock away.

Her one piece of luck was that every monster froze in place instead of screaming or running to spread the tale of the human who had snuck Underground to use barriers on them—every monster but Chilldrake. “See?” he screamed, flapping his wings so hard that ice crystals flurried off them. “What did I just tell you?! Get out, human! We don’t want you here, and if I have to go tell His Majesty that you’re using barriers, I’ll—”

Whump.

It wasn’t a rock, or a spear, or a barrier. A ball of pure flame struck the ground in front of Chilldrake, who yelped and hopped backward, crashing into his friends.

The monsters’ heads turned toward the magic’s source, the edge of the field to Frisk’s right; each one immediately dropped to their knees or the equivalent thereof, with the hoodlums dropping the rocks and throwing themselves flat on their faces.

Undyne took one look, shook her hand to dispel the energy spear, and went to one knee as another monster advanced. “Your Majesty,” she said in wonder, then apprehension. Her head ducked. “Majesty, I can fully explain and take responsibility for—”

A gesture silenced her. The monster came to stand in front of the house, her amber eyes coming to rest on the High Priestess, features impassive.

Frisk’s heart constricted. She was suddenly ten years old again, not knowing whether to be afraid, whether she should bow or do something royal. She came down the steps, and to her horror, she found herself breathing harder, eyes prickling, throat tightening. “Lady Toriel,” she whispered.

Toriel folded her arms at the waist. She wore a plain robe, adorned only with the Delta Rune in white—the same thing Asriel had worn the day she fell into the Underground, only purple instead of black. The former Queen regarded Frisk for a long, terrible moment. “Where is the human named Kris?” she asked sternly.

It took all of Frisk’s training, all her experience as an exalted and lonely member of the Church’s highest echelon, to speak up. “The human child you knew was not a boy, and his name was not Kris. He was a girl, and his name was Frisk.” She swallowed. “I am Frisk.” Damn it, her voice wouldn’t stay steady. “I’m back, Lady Toriel. Please—”

Toriel took a step toward her. Another, and another. Her white-furred hand came up to brush Frisk’s hair from her face. The boss monster stared into her eyes…

And she stooped, opening her arms and folding Frisk into a huge, warm, cloud-soft hug.

Everything pent up behind Frisk’s defenses rose in a surge that crumbled the walls like wet paper. She still smelled like cinnamon and golden flowers, Frisk realized, and she wasn’t ashamed to grab hold of the velvet robe and get it soaked with tears again.

“My poor child,” the boss monster murmured, stroking Frisk’s hair as the priestess’ shoulders heaved. “My poor, dear girl. I’ve missed you so much.” She hugged her tighter. “I cannot tell you how very glad I am to see you again.”

Frisk was sobbing without restraint now, not caring what anyone saw or heard or thought of her. Toriel rested her hand on the back of the young woman’s head and looked up for the first time, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Am I to understand that this human is not welcome here?” She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t have to. “Would anyone like to say anything?”

Chilldrake had collapsed in on himself. His beak moved, but all he could muster was “…High Priestess, Majesty.”

Toriel’s hand grew heavier. “Is this true, my child? You’ve become the High Priestess?”

Frisk didn’t have the courage to raise her head. She just nodded.

The boss monster inhaled, and sighed, her diaphragm moving under Frisk’s cheek. “Then we are very fortunate to have you, Frisk.” She glanced up, once. “Wouldn’t you agree, young man?”

Chilldrake did not nod so much as vibrate his head too fast for it to be visible.

“Splendid. We…what, my child?” Toriel listened as Frisk turned her head to mumble more clearly. “They broke Sans and Papyrus’ window? My word.”

Frisk didn’t see who rushed forward, but she heard a scramble to be the first to check the cracked glass and figure out how to fix or replace it or something right now.

Toriel waited for the priestess to get herself under control, then stepped back and took Frisk’s hand. “Captain,” she said, and Undyne was instantly on her feet, fist on her chest. “We have much to discuss. Please accompany us.” And with as much grace and ceremony as if the old house had been a marble palace, the boss monster went inside, allowing Undyne to glare once more at the crowd, then shut the door gently behind them.

#songfell man i love my mom but

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hermankopusortizorsumshite · 4 years

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WARNING: Mentions of sexual assault, blood, gore.

If any of those are a trigger warning, please don’t read this. I’ll get some fluffy Kozik up soon ❤️

💕Kozik’s Girl. Tig’s Baby.⭐️

You were a Trager, but you only met your pops once or twice, never really connected, but now in Charming on business; your father was unavoidable. Though he didn’t know, nor would you tell him, that while you lived in Tacoma you had slept with— on multiple occasions— a fellow brother named Herman Kozik, or Hermie as you dubbed him in bed.

“Hi, I’m Stella Trager. Here to see my pops,” you state as you head into the shop.

“Hey! Lady you can’t be here without car troubles, you can’t be back there.”

“I’m the daughter of Trager, you can go ahead and tell him his baby is out here getting a sunburn waiting for you to approve it or I can go in.” You snip at the Mexican boy chasing you down.

“He’s busy, but I can take a message for him.” You saunter passed him and shout into the garage over the tools and chatter.

“Daddy! I’m here.” You call, eyes scanning for his curls. You didn’t see them, but you did recognize the puff of blond hair coming towards you with a smile. When Trager and Kozik both stand in front of you, both looking confused.

“Baby—“

“Don’t you dare finish that motherfucking sentence. Stellar, you have ten seconds before I rip his balls off and stuff them down his throat. Why the hell is he responding to ‘daddy’?” He growls, eyes meeting yours.

“Well, I’m not sure what he’s even doing here. But, anyway, that’s what I came to talk about. I’m sleeping around with a Son.”

“That one? It had to be that fucking MORON? One in another COUNTRY would’ve been better than this fuckhead!” He swings on him, fist connecting with Kozik’s face.

“I’m sorry, pops. I didn’t know how else to tell you! I was thinking about moving back to Charming, but Kozik would have to be patched in here,and you’d have to agree.” You try to reason with him, but he barely hears you, as his fists pound relentlessly into Kozik’s face.

“And you expect me to patch you in after you got my dog killed and my daughter calls you daddy?” He screams, grabbing Kozik’s throat with both hands.

“Sir, I love your daughter.” He chokes out.

“She’s not just some lay, she’s my daughter.” He growls, his blue eyes like the deepest ocean.

“I know that, sir. That’s why I want patched in, man. I wanna marry her and I want our kids to know you. I want them to know we got over this decades-old shit and got passed it. I wanna tell em that your daughter is the prettiest woman alive. I wanna grow old with he—-“ He’s cut off with another hit, but a truck whips into the lot while everyone’s gathered around the ring, and a man jumps out and grabs you, hand covering your mouth and dragging you into the truck before whipping out of the parking lot, gunshots sounding off behind you. You were now blindfolded, bound, and gagged.

Kozik and Tig’s swings are stopped when Jax’s gun shoots off. They both turn their attention to the Vice President, his face pale.

“What, man? What’s goin on? Where’s Stellar? She alright?” His questions are met with a few looks of disgust and a few of pale ghastliness.

“She was just kidnapped man. Found this on the ground.” Jax murmurs, eyes averted to the ground as he hands off the note.

“Kidnapped? They just TOOK HER?” He pulls his gun out and hops on his bike, squealing out of the parking lot and flooring it down the road.

“Blue Chevy! Green passenger door! Crew cab! 2004!” Eyes watching for the description Jax shouted behind him.

“Son of a bitch!” He shouts, ducking just in time to miss the string across the alley he zoomed down. “Fuck!” He yells as he flies back out into the main road, hugging tight to his handle bars as he revs up between to cars at the intersection. He’s finally stopped by a police car, parked directly in the road, stopping him. He skids to a stop, lying his bike out, the hot tar ripping up his exposed forearms as he tumbles, landing at the cops feet.

“Mister Kozik, speeding, endangering the lives of civilians, failing to follow traffic signs, you’re looking at a hefty fine mister.” She taps the toe of her boot on the ground.

“I don’t care. They took her. They took her. They took my wife!” He screams at the top of his lungs, his heart burning as he starts to cry. “They took my baby.” He whispers, starting to get dizzy from the sun and the blood loss.

When you awoke, you knew where you were. You were in Tacoma, the smell of the air and the sound around you, it was Tacoma.

“Easy princess.” She knew that voice. “I’m gonna give you back to Kozik, but he’s not leaving Tacoma, you got that? I give you back, ALIVE, and you and Kozik move back to Tacoma, we put this behind us.” It was Reverend Wheeler, from the Tacoma charter.

“I—I’ll tell him that you did this!” You shriek, grabbing the ropes that held you down.

“Now, listen to me. I really want Kozik as the next President of this club, and he can’t be that from Redwood. Now, I’ve got some business calls to make. Keep quiet.”

“Kozik! How are things going down in Redwood?” Reverend Wheeler asks, listening as Kozik heaves a sigh.

“Somebody took Stellar.” He chokes, eyes watering.

“Oh shit, man. I’m sorry. I told you those Redwood Originals can’t keep anybody safe.” He offers, eyes flicking over to you.

“Yeah, guess you’re right. I gotta find her, man.” He whispers, hanging up. Pulling a burner phone from his breast pocket and dialing the same number.

“Hello?” His soft, confused voice broke your heart. He was being played the men who were supposed to love him.

“Herman. Kozik? Is it? I have someone who would like to speak with you. Remember darling, a wrong word, and I’ll kill ya.” He murmurs to you.

“You got my baby? You got her?” He shrieks, jumping to his feet and pacing the club. “I want her back, man. Listen, I don’t know why ya took her, but that’s my baby. That’s my girl. My best friend. My one and only, man. I just want her back. Please dawg, tell me what you want. I’ll make it happen.” He pleads, eyes begging one of his club members to help him. He was going crazy without you.

“We need ten thousand dollars, by tomorrow or your girl dies. And my god, I’d hate to see something happen to this little lady’s pretty face, Herman.” The man said, something about his voice stuck in the back of Kozik’s brain, eating away at him. He knew that voice.

“Lemme talk to her. I just wanna hear her voice, man. Please.”

“He-hello?” You ask, throat sore and dry.

“Holy shit, hey baby. I got you okay? I’m gonna kill these bastards. Don’t you worry! Just hold on, baby! I love you!” Tig watched Kozik fall apart in front of them, and he felt horrible. Tig was so distracted and angry with Kozik that he let his own daughter get kidnapped. The tears on the blondie’s face made him feel awful. First, Abel was stolen, but they found him. Now Tig’s daughter and Kozik’s babygirl. That shit was wrong. He knew, at that moment— Kozik in the clubhouse begging on his knees just to speak with you— that the blond moron was the best thing for you.

“I love you, Hermie.” She whispers, breaking what little piece of his heart was left. He staggered to his feet and his fist hit the wall.

“Baby!” He shrieks as the line goes dead. Nothing but dial tone filling his ears.

“We’re gonna get her, man.” Opie assures, his hand resting on Kozik’s back.

“I hope so. I know them. I don’t know how, but I know who it is. There was somethin’ about the way this guy said Herman, man.”

“It’s alright, dude. We’ll get her back. What’s the ransom?” Jax asked.

“Ten thousand. I got that shit, it’s chump change in Tacoma.” He stepped away from Opie for only a moment, but then his eyes were the size of saucers. “Tacoma. They’ve got her in Tacoma!” He barks, heading to his room to get the cash and sprinting for his bike.

“Woah! Woah! What do you mean they’ve got her in Tacoma? Why would anyone in Tacoma take her? Was it the Nomad charter? Why?” Tig asks, chasing after him.

“Because they didn’t want me leaving. So they took her, gonna use her as a bargaining chip for me to go back to Tacoma. Rev wanted me to be the next president, but when I told him I was probably moving, he came unhinged, man. Told me I’d regret not staying in Tacoma.” He explains as he packs his saddlebag before mounting his bike, taking a deep breath from his helmet, and smelling the sweetness of your coconut shampoo.

“Why would he do that?” He asks.

“Because Tacoma’s gettin’ desperate, man.” He takes off, leaving Tig and the crew to follow behind him as he headed for Tacoma. They arrived at the clubhouse and he busted through the door. Dropping the bag on the table, he grabs the prospect up and presses a gun to his head. “You’re gonna take me to the girl. Or I’m gonna spill your brains across the clubhouse table. You got me?” He growls, jamming the boy in the back as they headed outside. “You don’t take me to her, you alert any of these motherfuckers. I’ll goddamn kill you.”

“I got it, dude. Man, this club isn’t what it used to be dude. I want out.” He grumbles as he storms towards the shed.

“Tell you what, since you don’t seem to know anything, talk to Jax. Become part of the Redwoods. There’s other charts, kid. Don’t stay with these assholes. You wanna come back with us?” He asks, as the kid swings the door open. There you were, his sweet angel, duct taped to a support in the middle of the shed. “Baby, oh hunny. Look at you. Beautiful, sweetheart. Just beautiful. Always.” He whispers, hugging you against him. You let out a soft whine, the pain in your ribs twinging and stabbing. “What’s the matter baby?” He whispers, scooping you up.

“My ribs, they kicked me a lot. Sorry, hun. I’m okay. Just happy to see ya, daddy.” You laugh, sucking in a sharp breath and gritting your teeth.

“Easy, hunny. I got ya. Let’s go. You got any guff about sparky over there joining SAMCRO?” He asks, directing your attention to the sweet boy who was bringing you water and food when the club left.

“Nah, he’s a good kid. He deserves a good club.” You whisper, letting the kid hug you awkwardly, showing the rest of them he was good.

“We gotta get outta here they should be back any minute. Get the fuck outta here. I’ll take care of em.” The guy barks, heading into the clubhouse.

“Kid! Get your kutte on, let’s go. You ride with SAMCRO. Let’s go.”

“You guys aren’t gonna kill me right? Rev says if anyone found out about it, I’d get killed. No other charter would take a nark man.”

“Kid, you listen to me. You were the only one who brought my wife food and water while your president held her hostage. You deserve to be in a good club, you got a good heart. Now, let’s get outta here, before they come back.” Kozik was ready to zoom away, but he heard the bikes coming up the street. Digging through his bag, he tossed his second bulletvest to the kid.

“Put it on and stick with us, you’re crow now.” He calls to the kid. Rev pulls into the lot, seeing the Redwood MC his eyes widen for just a moment, scared out of his mind. How had he known?

“Crows.” Someone whispers. Kozik swings a leg over his bike and stands in front of Rev.

“You. You son of a bitch. You took my girl from me, make a ransom call from a burner, and think I wouldn’t remember when you threatened me? I’m gonna kill you. You’re fucking dead, Rev.”

“That right? Go ahead and shoot me, my boys will back me up, well except you, I guess.” He chuckles darkly, walking towards the bike you were currently perched on. “You tell him how I touched you? How you loved it? How you begged me to keep going? That Herman here, couldn’t get it up for ya anymore!” His maniacal laughter and shrieking is cut short when Kozik grabs him by the throat.

“You touched her?” He asks, eyes dark with hatred. Some MC wash up was now playing god with you.

“Hey man, if you ask her, she fuckin’ loved it.”

“Don’t. Don’t say another fucking word. Jax! Tig!” He shouts, you watching on as Jax and your dad each grab an arm.

“What? You gonna execute me in front of my men?” He chuckles.

“Yeah, I sure the fuck am, on your knees!”

“I believe the chap said,” Chibs’ boots kicked Rev in the back of the knees. “ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES!”

“Now, look at this. You here on the ground. You wanna suck my dick? Huh? You wouldn’t like that? I’m sorry, I don’t really remember asking. That’s my daughter that you just admitted to raping.”

“Huh, don’t that just suck man? I should let him do that doggie shit to ya, let him do what he wants and leave you here like the crying bitch that you are. But hey, I’ve got better plans. Take off his shirt.” Kozik slicked the blade across this man’s back, carving whatever he was carving into his skin, Rev crying out. “Lastly,” his sunk the knife into the front of Rev’s chest, cutting what appeared to be a circle, then proceeded to stuff his big hand into the opening and yank out Rev’s still beating heart.

“Kozik, man. I’ve never seen this Viking shit before. I didn’t know you had it in ya!” Jax cheers as Rev falls to the pavement. Kozik turns to you, your eyes wide and your face pale.

“Baby,” he starts towards you. He’d forgotten you were right there, witnessing the monster rearing it’s ugly head.

“Don’t. Don’t touch me.” You whispered. You held gently to him the whole ride back to Charming. No words were spoken between you two. Hell, you were scared out of your mind. You couldn’t believe what you saw. That was your man, the one who built you shelves for your workspace at home. The man whose strong arms made you feel so safe. You’d never witnessed this crusader of a barbarian, and it scared you.

“Baby, can I talk to you?” He murmurs, his heart breaking over again. You wouldn’t get any closer than four feet, scared of him.

“No! You ripped out some guy’s heart!” You shriek, grabbing a chair and putting it between you two.

“Keep your fucking voice down. Don’t be out here yelling that shit!” He hushes, stepping toward you.

“Jesus, what would stop you from doing that to me? What would stop you? Huh? What would stop you from killing me?” You shriek, arms wrapped around your small frame as you quake.

“What?” He asks. “You think I could do that shit to you? Baby, baby listen, I know I’m a little messed up, but he raped you and was gonna kill you. Chec, the kid from Tacoma, said they planned on killing you and dropping you off at our front door. As a warning. And I wasn’t gonna just let that shit happen!” He shouts, and you shriek, covering your head with the blanket that was wrapped around you.

“I’m sorry, Kozik. I just need some time. This shit that went down, I’m still a little fuzzy, but you ripping out someone’s heart, that’s clear. I saw you. What did you carve into his back?” You coo, eyes still on the floor.

“Your name.” He steps a step closer to you, you take one backwards.

“I need time. It’s over, Kozik. I’m sorry. I can’t be with someone who can live two separate lives, because like today, those two became one.” You head out the door, limping and dragging your blanket behind you. You spent the night in Kozik’s room at the clubhouse, avoiding eye contact with everyone who watched on confused. Eyes turned to the door as Kozik walked in, his eyes directed towards the barkeep.

“Gimme a couple shots of something strong. It’s gonna be a long night.” He grumbles, putting himself on a barstool.

“What’s going on man?”

“Nothing, apparently women aren’t as keen to that barbarian shit.” He chuckles dryly. “Hey, I’m gonna stay in the guest room across the hall from her, do you guys mind? I just, I don’t wanna leave her alone, guys.” He murmurs, eyes fogging with tears, only to blink them away.

“Hey there, Conan. You wanna throw me over your shoulder and have your way with me?” A crow eater wandered up to him, smooth talking and sexy, she was hard to resist. “Oh come on, baby. You and I both know you did that to protect her. That’s hot.”

“Yeah. I did.”

“And all she did was think you were a monster. You sexy, beautiful beast. Lemme show you what a real man should feel.” He downed three more shots, feeling buzzed enough to go through with it. She leads him to his dorm, pushing him back onto the bed, letting him wrap a denim clad leg across her soft skin, the rough denim exciting her.

“She doesn’t deserve me.” He whispers, letting her ravage his body.

“That’s right, baby. Let me show you what you deserve.” She whispers, sending fire chasing her lips down his chest.

The next morning, she’d figured it was time to talk to Kozik. She was sorry for overreacting the night before. As you step into the clubhouse after heading out for a coffee, you tiptoe over the women and men on the floor, heading back to Kozik’s room. As you reach for the handle, you hear your dad from behind you.

“Hey, he’s not in there. He already went to the shower and said he was headed back to your house.”

“Well he’s not there. I’ll just wait for him in here. can you call him?” You ask, twisting the knob and swinging open the door.

“I won’t need to.” He mutters, eyes dark with fear. As you stepped into his dorm you knew why. The stench of sex hung in the air, and your eyes fall onto the scene before you. Some blond, hair flowing over Kozik’s arm, his big arms holding her tight to his body the way he held you.

“What in the mother fuck is going on in here!?” You rage, ripping his blanket from them, revealing naked bodies. “Kozik, you better be pranking me, you fuck.” You growl, watching his eyes flutter open and land on you.

“Awe shit, baby. I—“

“I dare you to try and save it. Go ahead.” You grind through clenched teeth, tears falling down your face.

“Babe, I—“

“He just wanted to feel good about what he did. You made him feel like shit for killing a man who raped you and hurt you. I was a comfort, if you will.” You grabbed the closest weapon, a baseball bat and stretched it back above your head.

“You have ten seconds, doctor Phil.”

“Is she serious?”

“Babe, just leave. I’ll handle this shit, just go.”

“Ok.” You turn, but he calls to you. “Hey. I was talking to her.” Your heart stops in your throat.

“What?” You whisper, watching that bitch saunter out of the room. You can’t help it, you lunge on her, grabbing a handful of hair and slamming her face into the door jam. “Don’t ever, and I do mean ever, touch my man again.” You bark, still holding a handful of her hair.

“Jesus Christ hunny! Let her go!”

“Well someone needed to comfort him.” She croons, a sick grin on her bloody face.

“You bitch!” You drag her through the whole clubhouse, fury pulsing through you. Throwing her onto the hot pavement, you straddle her back, slamming her face into the concrete.

“Grab her before she kills someone!” Jax shouts, hooking his arms through yours and dragging you away from her.

“No! I’m not done!”

“Kozik! You need to keep you girl in check, man. She’s out here bashing some chick’s face into the asphalt.” Jax chuckles a little.

“Don’t fucking bother. I’m gone.” You storm over to his Dyna, kicking it over onto the ground, scratching your initials into the gas tank, and getting into your car.

“Wow, she doesn’t play around man.” Tig chuckles a little, but dry. “You really pissed off my baby, man. She’s my little star, I love her. Don’t make her regret moving home.”

“I won’t man, I just need a minute to process. Shit, bro. What do I do? What do I say? I gotta get her back, for fuck’s sake, she almost killed another woman.” He was back to square one, his heart pounding, head throbbing, as if he’d never found her.

“I don’t know kid, you’ll have to beg.”

“I gotta go, if that bike even rides still.” He chuckles, tipping his bike up and jumping on, heading for home.

“Baby?” He calls into the house, eyes searching the kitchen. “Babe? Ya in here?” He opens the garage door to find you on the garage floor, bound and gagged, shirt ripped open. “Holy fuck. Who?” He screams, grabbing you up, checking for a pulse.

“Tacoma.” You hush, tears falling down your cheeks.

“Why? I killed him!” He cries, examining your body to find something carved into your chest. “I’m gonna get you to Tara, you’re gonna be okay baby.”

“I hate you.” You whisper, eyes narrowed on him before they drift shut.

“I’m sorry, hunny.” He whispers, grabbing you up and carrying you to your truck. Once at the clubhouse, he carries you gingerly inside, placing you on the pool table before grabbing Tara from Jax. “Someone attacked her in our fucking garage, dude. Hoping you could patch her up, see what they carved into her.” She hesitantly agrees, patching up your chest. When Tara lets out a gasp, Kozik dashes to her side. ‘BITCH’ was etched into your chest from shoulder to shoulder.

“Who knew that she was done with me? Who saw her little tiff?” He yells, realizing who probably did this.

“I mean, she did bash that girl’s face into every solid thing she could find. I wouldn’t be surprised if she hired someone. That’s kind of brutal for a comeback though, man.” Jax calls from the table. As if on cue, that red-headed crow eater comes sauntering in, eyes both puffed and purple. Kozik rushes her, eyes dark.

“Did you do this?”

“No, but it’s karma.” She laughs, continuing past him.

“Listen, if you did this I need to know. Like, ya I slept with you, but that doesn’t mean anything. And that also means you can’t just attack my old lady. You know that, right? And even if you were gonna, a little scare would’ve been plenty. This is too much.” She puts her hands up and laughs.

“I didn’t do it, but it’s fucking karma. That bitch said she was done with you, then dragged my ass through the fuckin’ dirt. I could be your girl, Kozik. I could be twice—“ He covers her mouth with his hand.

“Don’t. She’s always gonna be mine. I swear to god, I’ll follow her to the ends of the earth. Okay? You don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell. We fucked. It was nothing more than that.” He growls, stalking away before he did something he’d regret.

“Hey, how you doin?” He murmurs to you, perching on the edge of the bed.

“Fine. Listen, Hermie, I can’t do this. At least not until I heal a little better. Just, I need some time. I’m not leaving you, I just. Need a break. Okay? Can you give me that?” You ask, eyes meeting his. Tears fill his sweet, sad eyes, but he nods.

“Yeah, of course. I love you, baby.” He whispers, stepping away from you. He wanders away, leaving you alone.

A month went by, the angry marks turning to scars. You went to a tattoo shop, Happy’s, and had the scar tattooed over and had ‘that’ put above it. You start into the clubhouse to show off your new ink. Sauntering in the place like that bitch that you are, you shove aside that tart who banged your man. Standing in front of him, grinning.

“Just thought you’d like to see this.” You whisper, pulling off Kozik’s SAMCRO sweatshirt to reveal only a black lacy bra and the new tattoo.

“What an attention whore.” That tart laughs, but she’s cut short by your fist. You drop her on the ground, spinning in a slow, tantalizing circle eyes only leaving Kozik long enough to finish your twirl. His eyes catch a glimpse of a crow under your boobs, wings outstretched to cup your perky breasts; it’s beak an arrow to that slender neck. His name never looked so good, scribed on her skin.

“I found confidence. I found peace. I found my love of crazy-filled days. I found a lot out about myself being alone. And being alone I learned that I don’t need a man to control me; but goddamn it, I didn’t find contentment. I didn’t find love. I didn’t find anything close to you. I love you, Herman Kozik.” You huff, spinning and starting to walk out.

“Baby! Where you going?” He calls, shock on his lips. “Baby! I love you! That crow, it means more than you’ll ever know to me, and what a badass tattoo to cover a scar. I’m sorry for sleeping with her. I’m sorry for showing the brutal, barbaric side of me. I lost control. I did what I did because he deserved it. He used what I love the most, and he tried to destroy you. When he took you, he ripped out my whole heart and when I found him, I shared that feeling. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any of this shit to happen to you. I love you so much.” He whispers, wrapping his arms around you and hugging against his big warm body. Home. You were finally home.

#kozik #kozik x reader #kozik imagine #herman kozik #herman kozik x reader #herman kozik imagine #soa imagine #sons of anarchy imagine #herman #sweet boy #kozik’s girl #tig’s daughter!reader #kozik!reader #sons of anarchy #drabble

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animemeg27 · 3 years

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I feel like I complain a lot about work on twitter so I’ma rant here for a change so I’m not so negative in one space, but honestly depending on how my work’s new owners deal with this situation, I’m genuinely considering looking for a new job next month..

I was just on the phone with one of the new owners and I actually broke down crying a bit...

lemme explain the situation

It’s a friday, it’s lunch time, it’s hot out, that morning a fight broke out between dogs because dog A wants to fence fight with dog B whenever he walks by, dog B is chill but will defend himself so he fence fights back. Dog C is in the same yard as Dog A and because dog A is reacting aggressively, dog C wants to join in and the only dog he can get to is dog A. All 3 dogs are of large strong breeds so obviously sometimes they can be a handful if they get out of control. Asshole coworker is in the yard with the fighting dogs and luckily had them on leash so he had them both at arms length and dragged them away from the fence. Doggy Day Kamp manager in my yard with dog B goes over to Asshole’s yard to help keep them two apart as the Asshole’s hand got bit and is bleeding. The dogs are never put away, but are kept on leash until they’re calm enough the Asshole finally goes to wash his hand. The Manager keeps the leash on the instigator, dog A, and soon the dogs in that yard are moved away into the backyard so they don’t see dog B and start another fight.

I personally don’t know why the hell dogs A and B were in yards next to each other when I’m pretty sure it was established awhile ago that dog A hates dog B. But the Asshole has a superiority/dog trainer complex when he is neither of those things so I wouldn’t put it past him if it was his idea.

Couple hours later Assistant manager comes in for her shift and hears about the fight. She tells the Asshole “hey next time put the dogs away when they fight so they can calm down” cuz ya know, that’s standard protocol. It’s dangerous to have em still out because the aggressive energy can build up again with other reactive dogs still in the yard that could still be anxious from the fight that just happened. A fight broke out literally a week prior and SHE had her hand bitten and that same dog C was involved and he was put away. That time all dogs were going after one in the yard and many of the dogs were ok in doing so because dog C was in on it and riling everyone up. Ya know what the asshole says? “that’s not gonna do anything they’re not children putting them in time out won’t teach them anything” completely ignoring her who’s been here at least as long as I have aka 7 years while he’s hardly been here more than half a year. Like um they ain’t human either they’re dogs aka animals so they can be kind of unpredictable when they are in such a reactive state. The assistant manager is just as sick of him as I am and scoffs but doesn’t have the energy to argue. The asshole had really been pissing her off lately by kind of bossing her around out of nowhere when the manager had been on vacation earlier in the month.

few hours later it’s lunch time, and this is where shit goes down... kinda literally. Asshole leaves for lunch. Or so I thought. We were in the same yard and he left through one of the side pens, but he found a missed pile of dog poop in there so he decides to pick it up himself. Ok whatever. He leaves the gate open a bit and a little dog slips through. he picks him up and puts him back in the main yard, I come over and close the gate over so he can hurry and pick up the poop and head to lunch. He tells me to leave it open because the dogs won’t learn anything if I close it. like dude it’s just poop, so I kept the gate shut. granted I didn’t say anything, but my logic was who the hell wants to spend and extra 5-10 minutes dealing with dogs trying to slip through a gate depending on which dogs come over just to pick up poop instead of wanting to head to lunch as soon as possible. So he says something along the lines of “what is wrong with you” or “what is your problem” to which I simply responded with “Just go to lunch, I’ll take care of it.” My patience with him was thin already but at this point it was just gone. This asshole is so obsessed with teaching dogs in general but also not to slip through gates that he always get so angry, or at least really annoyed and pissed off at me whenever I try to help holding dogs back, like I was taught to do, especially ones that are more difficult - ones that are strong or speedy and don’t sit still and take every opportunity to slip through the gate. like it’s understandable to try and teach them, but it can be a long process, especially with the more difficult ones. No one really has time for that when we’re busy or need to be someplace. In the end he just picked up the poop while I had the gate shut. When he left for lunch for real he said “I’d suggest you don’t get on my bad side” to which all I had to say to him was “really?????” like he hadn’t been on my bad side for at least the past 6 months. I can’t remember if he mumbled something under his breath but my last words to him as he left were “you’re not the manager”

now up until this point, I didn’t realize my heart was racing. like “I’d suggest you don’t get on my bad side” like what the fuck is that supposed to mean???? Honestly he’s got such a shit personality I wouldn’t put it past him to actually do something threatening. So I put in a request from July onward to never work with him ever again. I never mentioned anything that happened because I had actually grown nervous of having him confronted and I wanted to wait for things to theoretically cool down before I said anything. I wrote a solid list of 10 reasons why I can’t stand him anymore if I was ever asked about my request in preparation.

Unknown to me at the time, the Assistant manager who had been in the next yard over had heard the threat he said to me and confronted him with one of the new owners about it and he actually got a serious scolding. So a couple days later when my request was received and the Kennel manager wanted to talk to me, I was surprised to learn they already knew the story and wanted to confirm that that was why I had made such a request as the kennel manager knew I’d never do something like that unless it was serious. We talked a bit and the owner that had scolded the ass was there and was reassuring me that they were on my side and even THEY didn’t really like him and there was talk of potentially firing him and the owner asked if I wanted an apology and I said “sure” but I doubt it would ever be serious or genuine and it’s not like I’d forgive him or be ok working with him again.

I was hoping he’d be fired, but unfortunately we’re only hiring teenagers with no work experience atm instead of people who know what they’re doing in the kennels or around dogs so if he were to be let go it’d be a while before he can be officially replaced. And the owners have made it clear as much as they don’t like him or his methods, there is a sense of a little more control in the day kamp yards. Anyway, because people’s shifts are all over the place it’s difficult to properly set aside a time to really discuss things. They’re trying their best to “knock him down a peg or two” to get him to better respect his coworkers and what not. I dunno how that’s going cuz I do my best to not engage with him and be in a separate yard as much as possible.

Anyway, it’s been like a week, it’s the last week of the scheduled month, next months schedule will be coming out in a day or so, and the other new owner called me to talk about how we’re gonna deal with next month. On monday we briefly talked... while the asshole was still in the other yard?? about the situation and whether or not I was comfortable talking with him to work things out so there’s no miscommunication because the assistant manager and the ass were I guess able to work something out. Whether or not he actually listens to her from now on would be interesting to see, but I’m standing my ground on the fact that I’m putting up with him for the last assigned week of the month, then I want nothing to do with him ever again. I gave a quick “no” to talking with him. The new owner said we can continue the talk about the situation the next day. Yesterday rolls around and obviously we’re busy and there’s no time for that.

So today the new owner called. Reiterating how much of an asset I am up in day kamp, and how much they still need the asshole, and if there’s any chance I might still work up there and talk it out with him. This is were I start tearing up and choking up. I told her “it’s just been slowly building up over the past several months and that was the last straw” and “sorry, no”. She reassured me she didn’t want to make me uncomfortable or upset or force me to do something I didn’t feel comfortable doing, and understood the ass was, well, an ass to me and had no respect for me or my other coworkers. She revealed that apparently the ass interpreted me holding the gate closed was an “act of disrespect” towards him when she understood that was ridiculous as she knew closing a gate so dogs don’t escape is what you’re supposed to do. as if and “act of disrespect” gives him the right to casually threaten someone. Like I don’t even care if he was having a bad day getting his hand bitten, you’re bringing that bs on yourself. She said he wants to apologize and I dunno how true that actually is or if he’s just been guilted into it, but again I said an apology would be nice but it won’t change the way I feel about him. Anyway she said she’d like to talk to me again tomorrow when I’m in work cuz I forgot to mention I had off today and that’s why I received a call, cuz by that time I’ve got tears and snot running down my face like a fool lol I’m glad it wasn’t in person.

But also I never told my parents about this and my work doesn’t have my cell number only my home number so it was my dad who answered and handed me the phone and I talked to the owner in my room so no one would hear. But with my face as it was it was clear I’d been crying, but I hadn’t scrubbed my face or gotten dressed yet so I took that as the perfect excuse to hide my red eyes before returning the phone downstairs and taking my own dog for a walk.

But yeah they really want me in day kamp. And I really don’t wanna work with the ass. and the ass only works in day kamp. There was a time where I actually almost prefered day kamp to kennel work, but since the ass was hired that’s quickly reversed. I want to be in the kennel. I’ll do the annoying chores I don’t care. I cannot be anywhere near him. I refuse. The tension and awkwardness is too great, I’ll be too stressed out in day kamp. If they put me in day kamp most of the month, or more than twice a week which even that is a bit of a stretch, I need to look for another job because I cannot do that any more. I really don’t want to leave because I more or less have job security here, they need me, but I cannot come to work and deal with this shit anymore.

we’ll just have to see how next month’s schedule turns out.. :/

#um be prepared for an enormous rant if you actually bother to read #like a long post warning is probably an understatement lol #I basically just spilled the whole story instead of short vague bits and pieces #baby bat unmuted #I have nothing to destress......#i need somthing to watch.......

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deprough · 3 years

Text

Wood and Worry

12/9/2020 Dincember prompt: "Let It Snow”

SFW, however there are descriptions of murder and violence after the fact.

My Dincember prompts are part of a serial story I’m telling. This is the fifth part of the story. This post won’t make sense without reading the others.

Part 1: Snowballs and Saviors Part 2: Dreams and Dangers (nsfw) Part 3: Heat and Harassment Part 4: Fire and Fatality (depictions of violence and death)

The snow started just after sunrise, fat, heavy flakes that would have doomed the search mission if it hadn’t been for Mando. The weird thing on his back that Corrie had wondered about from time to time was a jetpack that allowed him to get an aerial view and cover more ground. She was starting to understand why the Mandalorians had such a fierce reputation.

“They’re in the cave nearby,” Mando said as soon as the roar of his jet pack faded.

“Good, an ambush shouldn’t be too hard, then,” Corrie said grimly. “How many?”

“Eight.” Mando’s grim announcement caused the posse members to shift nervously. That was two more than the posse, but all Corrie could think was that if they got this group, that was over half of them dead or caught.

“Are we sure this is the group that torched the jail?” Kado asked.

“I am,” Mando replied. “I’m not sure it was all of them, but the two that I followed from the town are here.”

“Unless they surrender, kill them all,” Corrie said, drawing her blaster.

“What happens if the two who torched the jail surrender?” Mando asked.

“Then they go back to town to stand trial,” Corrie said grimly. “I hope they do.” Mando tilted his helmet in a silent question. “It’d do the townsfolk good to see them dance on a rope.”

“Then give the word, Sheriff, and we’ll get ‘em,” Mando said.

“Word,” Corrie said, and the posse rolled out.

~ * ~ * ~

The bodies were dragged off and left for the beasts, which was no better than those animals deserved anyway. They only had one injury, thanks to Mando’s willingness to test the integrity of his armor by being the heart of the battle.

“You okay, Osker?” Corrie asked, kneeling down next to the kid. He was technically an adult, but didn’t look it, especially when his face was almost white with pain and he was biting back tears.

“I’ll be fine, Sheriff.” He put on a brave face but everyone knew the knife wound in his shoulder hurt. Corrie patted his hand and started to get up, but he caught her hand. “Sheriff, if… if my arm’s gonna be okay, can I be a deputy?”

Corrie smiled, even as part of her hated the sudden reminder that she’d lost one last night. The mother in her objected to the idea of sending this baby into fights. Osker wasn’t a baby though; he was a grown man, even if he was barely so. Even if she could remember when he was born. “I’d be proud to have you, once you’re better. You take care.”

He swelled with pride. “Yes, Sheriff.” Then he let the other men get him up on his gurt for the long, painful ride back to town.

Koda turned to her. “You sure you’ll be okay out here, Corrie?”

“I’ve got Mando,” she said, “I think we’ll be alright.” She hadn’t meant it quite the way it came out, and Koda raised an eyebrow. “Anyone who comes back to this camp tonight is in for a nasty surprise,” she quickly added, ignoring the blush trying to stain her cheeks.

She stood in the snow, watching four of the six people she’d ridden out with go home. Glancing over at Mando with his floating kid, she said, “So, how about you get some wood and I’ll find some tinder?”

Literally eating her foot wasn’t an option so she met the black T of his visor and didn’t show her discomfort. It’s what Dad would have done, though she didn’t think her father was capable of unintentional sexual innuendos like she was managing. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I got it.”

The second he’d turned away, Corrie allowed herself a full-body cringe over the matter. When she was done, she went through the prisoner’s meager belongings. They’d clearly been stealing from the locals; Corrie recognized all the tools and clothing as being Zalzus-made. She identified one of the scarves; it had been Sunga’s favorite, and Corrie’s clenched her teeth as she carefully set it aside to take back with them.

She picked some yarn from frayed woolen gloves for tinder, and dug the wet pieces of wood out of the firepit. During the fight, someone had kicked snow onto the fire, and now it was up to her to salvage it. Getting out flint and tinder, she started the fight to get it lit again.

“Here, let me,” Mando offered as he dropped an armful of wood next to the pit. Corrie was more than happy to let someone else do this crappy job. She handed him the flint box, only to have him extend his arm and send a gout of flame that effortlessly lit the tinder.

She stared at him. He looked down at the flint box, then back at her. “Cheater,” she told him.

“It isn’t cheating if you win the fight,” he told her.

“All’s fair in love and war?” she shot back, then wanted to swallow her foot again.

“In war. Wouldn’t know much about in love,” he said levelly.

“So you don’t love your son?” she asked sharply.

His helmet pulled back in surprise. “That’s not what you were asking about.”

“That’s not what you thought I was asking about.” She shrugged. “Love’s love. There’s different kinds, and it comes out in different ways, but it’s rarely fair either way.”

“So kids aren’t fair in love?” he asked, his voice curious.

Corrie laughed. “Mando, kids are the worst about love. They’ll take it all, but they have to be almost adults before they truly understand how to give it.” He glanced at the child, and she said, “That’s a deep look.”

“You can’t see my face,” he protested.

“I don’t need to,” she said. “Something I said hit a nerve or provoked somethin’.”

He turned from her and she shrugged. They were silent as they got the gurts hidden in the back of the cave with water and food. Then he went and got them more water while she opened jarred stew and started heating it.

“The kid’s fifty.” His remark, delivered as he casually sent down the water jug, made her take another look at the child. Mando added, “I just thought, if you’re right, then I’ll never know him when he’s capable of giving love.”

Behind him, snow started to fall in a white curtain that blocked the remaining light of the day. “That a problem?” Corrie asked, leaning forward to stir the stew.

“Does it matter if it is?” he asked.

“You don’t like to answer questions, do you?” she asked.

“Not invasive ones.”

“Then tell me to shut up,” Corrie told him, peering up at him. “So have you figured out how you’re eating yet?”

His shoulders drooped a bit. “No.”

“Great. I’ll just wait outside for a bit.” Corrie half-expected a protest, something about how she shouldn’t get soaked just for him, and no, no, he’d go stand in the snow to eat.

“Thank you, Sheriff.” His simple acceptance was a pleasant surprise, and Corrie found her opinion of his shifting yet again. He couldn’t seem to go a moment without changing her views on him.

He took one of the seats left by the prisoners as the food finished warming. They sat in silence, then Corrie ate while Mando fed the baby.

When she was done, she said, “Hollar when you’re done.” He nodded as he placed the child in the bassinet and reached for the closure. “Naw, give me the control and let him follow me. Get some fresh air.”

He hesitated. “We’re in an open cave. He’s got fresh air.

“We won’t be far away,” she said. “Literally just out of line of sight. It’s better than him being locked up in the bassinet, right?”

Mando looked at the baby, who looked at him. Rising, he checked to make sure his hat and gloves were on correctly, then tucked the blanket around him more tightly and handed her the controls. Aware of the trust he was silently showing in her, she walked just out of sight of the entrance and no further, pulling the bassinet toward her so she could gently rock it. The kid looked alarmed for a moment, then smiled and settled back to watch the snow fall.

Her comm crackled and then Koda said, “Boss, you read me?”

“Yeah, Koda, I read ya,” she said, wondering what was happening now.

“Boss, some of the teens made their own posse and headed up into the eastern hills before the snow started,” Koda told her. “I followed as far as I could, but the snow’s gettin’ bad.”

“Dank ferrik,” she growled. “Who was it?”

“Scerr Hamne, Lindi Jissard, and Kuna Tane. They took Kern’s speederbikes.”

Corrie tucked her hair behind her ears, since she couldn’t rake her fingers through it like she normally did when agitated. Silently cursing idiot kids, she said, “Lemme guess, they took the high performance ones.”

“Got it in one. Kern says the bikes should have frozen up already.”

“Damn kids. Has Kern gone after them?”

“No, but Lindi’s not going to be able to sit for a month when we find her, and is probably grounded until she’s dead,” Kota answered. “Can’t say I blame her father. Kern loves his speederbikes.”

“We have to find them before he can ruin her life,” Corrie replied. “I think Mando and I are stuck up here until morning, at minimum. We’ll join the hunt tomorrow.”

“That’s what I figured, boss. See ya tomorrow. Stay warm.”

But not too warm, Corrie thought with a flush. “See ya tomorrow. Have the search party ready.”

When Mando called her in, he took one look at her face and guessed, “Trouble?”

“Been nothin’ but since that kriffin’ ship crashed,” she said wearily. “Libu used to be quiet and safe, and now…” She pulled off her hat and ran her fingers through her thick curls. Sometimes, she forgot she’d cut it back when she’d taken the job, and got a little surprise when she ran out of hair before she thought she would. Tonight was one of those nights when she came up short, and wondered if she really had the right to be out here, doing this job.

“Hutts happen.”

Corrie looked at the bounty hunter. “Is that a joke?”

He paused and then said, “Was it funny?”

“I… I don’t know,” she said, reaching out to the bassinet and rocking the kid again. He cooed softly. “A little, I guess.”

“I’m not good at jokes.” He said it simply, and she wished she could see his face, to read what emotions were crossing it.

“No,” Corrie said with faux shock, opting to try a little humor herself. “Really? It’s been a laugh a minute since I met you.”

The second it was out of her mouth, she realized he might feel mocked, but before she could withdraw her statement, he said, “That’s me, Funny Man Mando.”

She chuckled. “Funny Man Mando, savior of Libu. I think that’s what we’ll put on the statue we erect to you.”

He visibly winced. “You’re local law enforcement, you’re supposed to take all the credit after I leave town. Besides, you’d make a prettier statue than me.”

Which left her so flustered that she couldn’t come up with a retort, and it had distracted her from the problem with the teens. As a bonus, it meant they spent the rest of the night in near-blessed silence. Better than eating her foot every few minutes.

#the mandalorian #MandoFanfiction #fanfiction #mandalorian fanfiction #deprough does dincember #Dincember 2020 #Dincember

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humanitittysswaggiest · 4 years

Text

I am not throwin away my shot

Heyo I’m just like my country I’m young scrappy and hungry and I’m not throwin away my shot

Imma get a scholarship to Kings college

I probably shouldn’t brag but dag I amaze and astonish

The problem is I got a lotta brains but no polish

I gotta holler just to be heard with every word, I drop knowledge

I’m a diamond in the rough, a shiny piece of coal tryna reach my goal my power of speech unimpeachable only 19 but my mind is older these New York city streets get colder I shoulder every burden every disadvantage I’ve learned to manage I don’t have a gun to brandish I walk these streets famished the plan is to fan this spark into a flame but dam it’s gettin dark so lemme spell out the name

I am the

(big) A L E X A N D E R we are meant to be

A colony that runs independently meanwhile Britain keeps shittin on us endlessley essentially they tax us relentlessly then King George turns around runs a spending spree he aint ever gonna set his descendants free so there will be a revolution in this century enter me (a/n(t/n?) bit weird Ham but whatever floats ur boat I'm not one to judge)

He says in paranthses

Dont be shocked when your history book mentions me I will lay down my life if it sets us free eventually you’ll see my ascendeancy

And I’m not throwin away my shot I’m not throwin away my shot heyo I’m just like my country I’m young scrappy and hungry and I’m not throwin away my shot

I am not throwin away my shot I am not throwin away my shot heyo I’m just like my country i’m young scrappy and hungry and I am not throwin away my shot its time to take a shot

I dream of a life without the monarchy the unrest in france will lead to onarchy, onarchy? how you say? anarchy when I fight I make the other side panicky with my

Shot

Yo I’m a tailors apprentice and I got yall knuckleheads in loco parentis I’m joinin the rebellion coz I know it’s my chance to socially advance instead of sewing some pants im gonna take a

Shot

But we’ll never be truly free until those in bondage have the same rights as you and me you and I do or die wait till I sally in on a stallion with the first black battalion have another

Shot

Geniuses lower your voices you keep out of trouble you double your choices I’m with you but the situation is fraught you've got to be carefully taught if you talk, you're gonna get shot!

Burr, check what we got mister Lafayette, hard rock like Lancelot I think your pants look hot Laurens, I like you a lot let's hatch a plot blacker than the kettle callin' the pot what are the odds the gods would put us all in one spot poppin' a squat on conventional wisdom, like it or not a bunch of revolutionary manumission abolitionists? give me a position, show me where the ammunition is!

Oh, am I talkin' too loud?

Sometimes I get over excited, shoot off at the mouth I never had a group of friends before I promise that I'll make y'all proud

Let's get this guy in front of a crowd

I am not throwing away my shot I am not throwing away my shot heyo, I'm just like my country I'm young, scrappy and hungry And I'm not throwing away my shot

I am not throwing away my shot I am not throwing away my shot Hey yo, I'm just like my country I'm young, scrappy and hungry And I'm not throwing away my shot

Ev'rybody sing whoa, whoa, whoa

Hey!

Whoa whoa! (Whoa)

Said let 'em hear ya!

Let's go!

Whoa whoa whoa!

I said shout it to the rooftops!

Whoa!

Said, to the rooftops!

Whoa!

Come on!

Yeah

Come on, let's go!

Rise up!

When you're living on your knees, you rise up tell your brother that he's gotta rise up tell your sister that she's gotta rise up

when are these colonies gonna rise up when are these colonies gonna rise up when are these colonies gonna rise up when are these colonies gonna rise up rise up rise up!

I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory when's it gonna get me in my sleep seven feet ahead of me if I see it comin', do I run or do I let it be is it like a beat without a melody see, I never thought I'd live past twenty where I come from some get half as many ask anybody why we livin' fast and we laugh, reach for a flask we have to make this moment last, that's plenty scratch that this is not a moment, it's the movement where all the hungriest brothers with something to prove went foes oppose us, we take an honest stand we roll like Moses, claimin' our promised land and if we win our independence is that a guarantee of freedom for our descendants or will the blood we shed begin an endless cycle of vengeance and death with no defendants i know the action in the street is excitin' but Jesus, between all the bleedin' 'n fightin' I've been readin' 'n writin' we need to handle our financial situation are we a nation of states what’s the state of our nation? (t/n bit hardcore bit deep there Hamilton)

I'm past patiently waitin' I'm passionately smashin' every expectation every action's an act of creation i'm laughin' in the face of casualties and sorrow for the first time, I'm thinkin' past tomorrow

And I am not throwing away my shot I am not throwing away my shot heyo, I'm just like my country I'm young, scrappy and hungry and I'm not throwing away my shot

We’re gonna rise up time to take a shot

We're gonna rise up time to take a shot

We're gonna rise up rise up

Time to take a shot! (Rise up)

Take a shot! Ri— ri— ri—

Shot!

A-yo it's

Time to take a shot! (Time to take a shot!)

And I am— (And I am)

Not throwin' away my—

Not throwin' away my shot!

#you know how freaking long this took me??#i just copied the last part #beesus fuckin christ #what is wrong with u Lin #you already write like ur running out of time why tf dya have to talk that fast??#fml whyd i do this #*cries*#this isnt even the longest song?!?!?!#uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh #procrastination helps too /s #and perfectionism /s #fucking goddammit

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johannstutt413 · 4 years

Text

(continued from this)

“Ya sure ya wanna drive, darlin’? I reckon yer still pretty tired.” Croissant and Bison had finished loading up their freight truck. “Not ‘nuff coffee in a full pot to keep ya ‘wake after last night.”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. If my dad saw you driving, he’d have a cow.” He chuckled at his own joke, joined by her guffaws.

It had been a weird night. Most of PL wanted to play poker, but someone had to do this job, so Bison had decided to step out; the fact that Croissant didn’t want to play and clearly needed someone to escort her back to her room made his choice even simpler. “Thank ya, Bison. Can’t see clear after all that whiskey, and I’m swayin’ like cattails in a twister.”

“Don’t worry about it. I think that’s yours up there.” They made their way over, and he confirmed that it was, in fact, Croissant’s room. “Alright, you have your key, right?”

“‘sin mah pocket.” She reached into her coat and pulled it out before waving it in front of the lock.

Bison took hold of her wrist and guided the key into the lock. “There we go.”

“Thank ya.” Once the door was unlocked, they opened the door, his hand still on her wrist. “Hey, you wanna c’min for a nightcap?”

“I thought you’d had plenty already.”

She chuckled. “Not alkamahal, ya dork. Just siddown on the couch and lemme get ya some water. I ain’t too light, and you done near carried me down that hall.”

“I am kinda thirsty,” he admitted. “Alright, I’ll hang out for a little bit. Besides, I should make sure you don’t need anything in the middle of the night.”

“Heh. That an offer, Bison?” Croissant winked at him.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t hit on drunk girls, Croissant. Come on, let’s have that water and see you make it to bed alright.”

“Hmph. Alrighty, then, take a seat over yonder.” She gestured over to the couch, where he promptly sat down. A few fumbling minutes later, she brought over a couple bottles of water. “Ya workin’ tomorrow?”

“Freight job - pick up in Lungmen, drop off in Siracusa. Long drive, but apparently the cargo ain’t- isn’t that heavy.”

She laughed. “Pickin’ up my accent, now?”

“Maybe a lil’,” he admitted. “When’s your next job?”

“Dunno. Couple weeks? I get by on mah’ bargain store, anyway.”

Bison blinked. “Your bargain store?”

“Ya dunno ‘bout mah bargain store? Eh, I’ll show ya when I can see the numbers.” Croissant downed the bottle of water, set it on the table in front of them, and started rocking side to side. “Hey, I gotta know: who ya sweet on in Penguin, eh?”

“Well...” The thought clammed him up as he tried to think of a way to defuse the situation.

She finally fell over, her head landing on his shoulder. “C’mon, Bis’n, I won’t tell nobody else. Please?”

“Alright...” Bison sighed, blushing up a storm. “But don’t think just because I’m saying it now means you’re getting anything else from me tonight.”

“Eh?”

He looked at her. “It’s you, of course.”

“Well gimme a red cape and call me a matador.” Croissant grinned super wide. “Now ya gotta spend the night wimme, doncha?”

“Like I said before-”

She bowled him over, kissing him as they fell sideways across the couch with her on top. “Ya leave ya eyes at HQ, ya big oaf? I been crushin’ on ya harder than a rock ‘n a hard place.”

“You...you have?” Bison was more prepared for the second kiss that came his way...and more receptive. “Well, I mean, if you’re sure you’d say the same sober-”

“I’d say the same if I caught the Doc’s amnesia.” Croissant tugged on his jacket before sitting up to help him slip out of it.

He took advantage of the moment to stand up entirely, lifting her to her feet as well. “Let’s do this right. Which door’s your bedroom?”

“C’mon, longhorn,” she winked, leading him by the arm. “I’ll take ya there.”

“Take it easy on a first-timer, alright?”

Croissant guffawed. “Same here, darlin’. Same here.”

While neither of them knew how long they’d gone at it, it’d left them both more exhausted than they’d ever been; the difference was that, while Croissant seemed to recharge almost entirely overnight, Bison was still quite drained the next morning.

“Hey, han’som.” She whispered in his ear as he began to stir. “Time fer work.”

“Fuckin’ headskillime.” He sat up and accidentally caught his horn on one of hers; he turned to her and blushed as last night caught up to him.

Croissant rolled over on top of him. “Yer not the only one. C’mon, I’ll make breakfast.”

“K’dkey,” Bison managed through the mix of euphoria and exhaustion. Even without the capacity for rational thought, her weight on him felt heavenly. “Hull muplz.”

“No problem.” She hoisted him to his feet before throwing on her jacket and handing him some of his clothes.

By the time he was dressed, Croissant had fixed herself up and put a burrito on the table for him. “Microwave, but better’n nuthin.”

“Salgudthinx.” He fumbled his way into a chair, cowlicks on his cowlicks and eyes barely open. “Yerwunful.”

“Aww, shucks, I’m just happy I got ta wake up to ya in mah bed. Most guys just left me at the bar - talked a good game ‘til I showed ‘em I could bench press ‘em.”

Bison blinked. “Hudevr dotha2ya? Dumbasses.”

“I mean, neither ‘f us were thinkin’ of anythin’ more than a night atta time, ya know?” Croissant sadly smiled. “Just how life is on the road.”

“Nothakeinaguy.”

She leaned forward. “What was that?”

“‘Said ‘m notha kinda guy.” He finished his burrito in record time. “Kay, tima gotawerk.”

“Alright, longhorn, get rollin’. I’ll meetcha there, kay?”

Bison frowned. “Kay.”

“What’s the matter?” Croissant chuckled. “Didya wanna walk in with me?”

“Mhmm.” Without another word, he walked out of her room, closing the door behind him.

She stared after him. “Mama never did say what I’m s’posed ta do if they say they wanna stay...”

Bison staggered in, looking like he’d just barely made it out of bed himself. “Mornin’, ev’ry’ne.”

“Morning, Bison!” Exusiai cocked her head. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, ‘m fine. ‘zere coffee yet?”

Sora walked over to the machine. “Not yet, but I’ll make you some.”

“Thanks.” He sat at the bar and buried his head in his arms. “‘Stoo damn bright’day.”

“What happened? You look like you got run over by a truck,” Mostima observed, her characteristic half-smirk now fully in place for a day’s use.

He looked back at her, attempting to glare but only managing to squint. “Wazzup mosta last night.”

“Really?” Exu couldn’t imagine why. “How come?”

“Mornin’; girls!” Croissant walked in and joined Bison at the bar, sliding an arm around his shoulder.

He returned the favor, setting his head on her shoulder. “Thnx 4 wakin mup thz mornin,” he slurred together.

“‘Course,” she smiled, giving him a peck on the cheek. “D’ya want me to come with ya for this’un?”

“Mmhmm.” Sora set a cup of coffee next to him, which with Croissant’s help he managed to hold to his lips for a sip.

Texas asked the question on all their minds. “Did you two spend last night together?”

“Aw shucks, he was a real champ,” Croissant beamed. “A real keeper, this one.”

“I should call my dad before we head out,” Bison muttered.

She rubbed his back. “You ain’t gotta worry ‘bout that after one night.”

“Thanks,” he shook his head, “but I want him to meet you, and if we’re going that direction anyway…”

“Now ain’t you just the sweetest apple in the barrel!” The cup of coffee was set to the side as she set upon him.

Once he was thoroughly awake - coffee and Croissant will do that to a person - they’d set off for the garage. Now, they were on the road; he’d asked her to be in charge of their music, letting her use his phone to do so, and for a few miles, they rode together in not quite silence. Eventually, though, she turned down the volume quite a bit. “Hey, Bison? Yer really sure I’m the girl fer ya?”

“I made my choice last night.” He glanced over at her, a smile forming on his face. “Whatever your past experience with guys might’ve been, I’ve only fallen in love once.”

“Oh? How’d that go fer ya?”

Bison chuckled. “I dunno. I’m taking her to see my dad now.”

“...Oh, Bison.” She smiled, wiping a tear out of her eye. “Ya really are an angel, aintcha?”

“Naw, you’re the angel. Never met a girl like you before, and I know I never will again. You know what my dad said when I told him about you?”

Croissant shook her head.

“Said I’d lost my mind,” he chuckled. “‘Son, there hasn't been a woman that perfect since your mother,’ he told me. I said right back, ‘Isn’t that what Grandpa said to you?’ He got a real kick out of that. My dad’s got his flaws, but you and him both have that merchant spirit in you. He’s gonna love having someone to properly talk business with, and I’m gonna love listening to you talk.”

“I’m gonna need ta start taking med’cine if I’m gonna hear this ev’ry day. I’ll turn the music back up now - don’t mind me, just gonna bask in mah luck fer a bit.”

Bison let a hand off the steering wheel and jostled her thigh. “Love ya.”

“Hehehe.” She set her hand over his. “Love ya, too.”

#arknights #bison (arknights)#croissant (arknights)#someone on reddit said they wanted more Croissant/Bison #and i love them both #so here ya go #hope that guy finds this #arknights fic

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ofstarsandvibranium · 5 years

Text

Like A Switch

Fandom: Marvel (Truck Driver AU - The Usual Stop Universe)

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky Barnes x Reader

As requested by anonymous: Would you be willing to write something with chubby!Bucky where he discovers he really likes being called “sir”? + Ooh I love chubby Bucky so much! Enjoy your holiday!!!! May I request something where chubby!Buck seems a little shy in bed at first and maybe self conscious and you say something that kinda flips a switch and he’s totally dominant and confident? Like maybe saying “sir” or something? + @feelmyroarrrr ‘s request: Bucky takes her on a weekend away And the 3nd up doing hardly any sightseeing as the hotel bedroom is just too inviting

Warning: smut

A/N: Read “The Usual Stop” here!

“A vacation?” you look at Bucky curiously as you’re laying on the bed of a motel off the road in Oregon.

Bucky nodded. He sat up against the headboard, with a shirt and his boxers. He set a hand on your arm, “You okay with that? Going on a vacation? With me?” Bucky loved you, there was no doubt about that. But because of his job and the way he looked, people didn’t see him as important or attractive. You’ve made it very clear with him that you loved him just as much, but Bucky was always afraid that you’d figure out this isn’t what you want, that he isn’t what you want.

You sat up on the bed and crawled over to Bucky, straddling his lap and resting your hands on his shoulders, “Of course I’m okay with it, Buck. I told you, I’m not going anywhere. Wherever you are, I wanna be. Whether it’s on the road or some beach in Florida. I don’t care as long as I’m with you.”

Bucky smiled at you with that same fondness in his eyes that you always see. He tapped his lips with his fingers, “Gimme some love, baby.”

You giggled, “Yes, sir,” and closed the distance by pressing your lips to his.

Bucky grabs a hold of your waist, pulling you in closer, deepening the kiss. You began to grind down onto his crotch and he could feel himself getting hard, but he had to stop. He needed to stop.

He pulled away with a sad sigh, “I’m sorry, Y/N.” this has happened before. When things were starting to get hot and heavy, Bucky halted everything. He wanted to have sex with you, he really did. He was just afraid. He was afraid that you’d look at his stomach and see how he’s not a guy you should be with and you’d leave him. He explained this the first time it happened and since then, your response is always, “Don’t be. Whenever you’re ready.”

It made him feel even more like crap because you’d get all riled up just to end up being disappointed. Bucky wasn’t a virgin or anything. He’s had his fair share of one night stands and the likes. But this was different. He loved you so much and the thought of you leaving him because of how he looked...he couldn’t take it.

You pressed a gentle to kiss to his lips, “Don’t be sorry, Buck. I’m the one who should be sorry. I got excited,” you have a little chuckle and then climbed off his lap, “Let’s get some sleep, ya? All that needs to be done tomorrow is drop off the trailer and we’re home bound.”

You shimmied yourself under the blankets after turning off the bedside light, “Goodnight, babe. I love you.”

Bucky sighed as he slid into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you, “Goodnight, I love you too.”

___________________

The hotel Bucky chose sat right before a beach. The sea breeze blowing through the balcony door. It wasn’t fancy or anything, but it sure beat the small motels that you were both used to staying at.

You stood on the balcony, soaking up the sun. Your eyes closed and the sunlight beaming down on you. You looked like a goddess.

You hear a familiar click and the sound of a photo developing. You turned around to see Bucky with his polaroid camera in hand, already shaking the photo to develop.

He gave a shrug of the shoulders, a smile painted on his lips, “You just looked like the most beautiful sight ever, I had to take a picture of ya.”

You giggled and sauntered over to him, your hands resting on his chest and you kissed his nose, “Can I see?” he handed it to you and slowly the color was coming to the picture. It was definitely a pretty picture. The way that the sun shined down on you gave a glowing effect, “I really like this one.”

Bucky hummed, “Put in your album then.”

You nodded and said, “Yes, sir.” You’ve been saying that phrase a lot lately, Bucky’s noticed. He’s also noticed that every time you’ve said, his pants suddenly get a bit tight around the crotch area.

No surprise, he looked down and saw a prominent bulge in his pants. He silently cursed because of how much you and your words affect him, even without you knowing it.

“Buck, I’m gonna take a shower. Get all the roadtrip sweat off me.”

He nodded, “Y-Yeah, sweetheart, you go ahead. I’ll just get a comfortable.” he waited until you went into the bathroom and heard the shower turn on. He then quickly undressed himself, laying on top of the bed in just his boxers. He freed his cock and fuck was he hard.

He gripped his shaft, letting out a hiss of pleasure from the feeling. He closed his eyes and began to imagine you naked, straddling his lap. You looked so beautiful as you rode him. Your y/e/c eyes baring down at him, your lips red from the biting and kissing, your neck covered in his love bites.

“You feel so good, Bucky. You fill me up so good,” you’d whimper.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Ride me harder, I know you want more. Take it all, sweet girl.” you’d smirk at the notion and move your hips faster, rocking on his cock hard and rough. His hands gripping at your waist, so hard you’d probably have nail indents on your skin. But you didn’t care.

“My naughty little girl, aren’t ya? You my naughty girl, Y/N?”

You’d nod and moan out a “Yes, I’m your naughty girl.” Just the image of your face filled with absolute, pleasurable bliss was bringing Bucky to the edge. His hand quickly pumping his cock. He could feel the pleasure building up and-

“Need some help?” his eyes shot open and there you were standing in front of the bed, clad in your bra and panties, hair still dripping from your shower.

“Y/N, I-uh,” he quickly grabbed his shirt and covered his crotch, “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t-”

“Bucky,” you crawled onto the bed and towards him, causing him to gulp, “It’s okay. I’ll admit, I’ve rubbed one off in the shower thinking about you too many times to count.”

He groaned, “Why you gotta tell me that?” his cock twitching under his shirt.

You giggled, “Buck, I don’t wanna rush you or force you into anything, but aren’t you tired of pulling away whenever things get heated between us?”

“Yes, God, yes. I am it’s just..I just...it’s been a while since I’ve had sex and I really love you and all, but I’m not, ya know, the best lookin’, sweetheart.”

You snorted, “Bucky, watching you lay here completely naked and jerking yourself off was probably one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. And honestly, I’ve been aching for you so much. I want you, Bucky, all of you. Heart, body, and soul.”

“But my-”

“James Buchanan Barnes, you listen to me right now: you are the sexiest man I’ve ever met. Okay? And more often than not I think about riding the hell outta you.”

Bucky choked on his own spit when you said that, “You-wha-I-” he pauses and take a breath, “Straddle my lap, baby girl,” his voice going down an octave, his eyes now hard and looking right into yours.

You smile excitedly as you pull his shirt from his crotch, throwing it over your shoulder, and crawling onto his lap. Already, you begin to find some friction, rubbing your pussy against his hard cock, which earned you a slap to the ass.

“Did I say you could do that, princess?”

You bit your lip as you shook your head, “No, sir.”

His jaw clenched and he licked his lips, “You do exactly what I say, got it?”

You nodded, “Yes, sir.”

Bucky growled as he wrapped one arm around you, pulling you closer, “Atta girl. Now, play with yourself. Get that pussy nice and wet for me.”

You whimpered as your hand slid to your pussy, rubbing against that sensitive nub. You could feel your walls slicken with your arousal. Bucky’s hand wrapped around his cock again, pumping it to a pace that matches your own.

“Fuck, honey, you look so goddamn pretty like this. ‘M sorry it took me so long to do this.”

You shook your head and leaned in, pressing a reassuring kiss to his lips, “Stop apologizing. I love you and I’d wait days, months, or years for you.”

Bucky moans as you start to jut your hips forward, letting your clit drag along his hard cock, “I think that’s enough teasing now, don’t you, sugar?”

“Please, sir, fuck me? I’m ready and aching for you.”

Bucky grabbed your hips and rolled you onto your back. He took your wrists pinning them to both sides of your face, “You keep your hands right there, sweetness. Don’t you dare move ‘em, you hear me?”

You nod, “Yes, sir.” God, Bucky doesn’t think he could get tired of hearing that.

He takes his hardened length into his hand, and starts to rub his tip along your slit and down your slick, his pre-cum colliding with your own juices. He glides himself up and down, teasing your entrance a little bit more, “You ready for me, baby girl?”

“Pleas, sir. Ready for you.”

With ease, he slides into you causing you to gasp and him grunt in satisfaction. He wasn’t all the way in yet and you already felt so snug around him, “Fucking hell, Y/N.”

“C’mon, Bucky,” your legs wrap around him, pulling him closer and pushing him further into you, “More.” And with a quick thrust, he filled you whole.

He stayed there for a moment, allowing yourself to adjust to him, “Lemme know when you’re ready, sweetness.”

You nodded, “I’m good.”

And without hesitation, Bucky thrust into you again. His arms had him propped up, his round stomach pressing against your pubic with every snap of his hips. You always found Bucky attractive, but right now, in this moment as he loses himself in the pleasure, he looks the most attractive he’s ever been. Naked and bare for you taking what he wants, taking what you haven given to him so willingly with so much trust and love.

“God, baby! You feel like absolute Heaven!” he groans.

Your fists clench beside you as you so desperately want to touch Bucky, to hold him. But your hands remain there because, you gotta admit, this more dominant side of him is really fucking hot.

One of his hands leaves your side as it runs down your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and to your pussy. His thumb rubbing circles around your clit to the pace of his thrusts. You were feeling hot then, now, you’re on fire.

You let out the most sinful moan that Bucky’s ever heard and he loves it. He loves that you’re falling apart because of him. So he continues. He fucks you and he stimulates your clit all the while he’s getting off himself. And on top of that, he’s admiring you, taking in every perfection and flaw to your face. Watching you with hooded eyes as you stare up at him, lips red and puckered from the kissing and biting. A sheen of sweat starting to shroud your body. You’re a mess, but you’re his mess, his beautiful, wonderful, loving, sexy, mess.

“Sir, let me touch you, please. Wanna touch you.”

Bucky grits his teeth as he feels your walls clench onto him. He gives a nod, “Alright, baby. You can touch me.”

Your hands immediately fly forward, pulling Bucky down for a searing kiss, one that he moans into. His thrusts never falter. He removes his hand from your clit and leans forward more, deepening the kiss and pushing himself further into you. He grabs onto the pillow underneath you, gripping it hard. He feels himself coming closer to the edge. He thinks you might be too, but he’s too clouded by the pleasure.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he murmurs against your lips, “Gonna-” he pulls out just in time for his seed to shoot onto your mound and stomach with a loud animalistic groan, his hand stroking himself fast and hard for every last drop. He’s panting heavy and he wants to lie down, but not before you’ve had yours.

His fingers replace his cock, pumping two into you while his other hands works at your nub.

You hold onto the sheets beneath you for dear life as you cry out for Bucky, begging him to make you cum on his fingers, “Baby! Oh fuck, sir! Please, please, please! Right there! Shit!” you cry out one last time as your orgasm hits you full blown. Your back arches off the bed and your eyes are shut tight. Your mouth is open, a high shrill of pleasure emitting from it as Bucky’s fingers continue to help you ride through your climax. He finally relents when your body collapses back onto the bed looking limp and completely exhausted.

With a proud smile, Bucky lays on his side next to you. His arm propping up his head as he looks at you, “Can’t believe I’ve been missing out on that sight for this long.”

Through your post-orgasmic haze, you giggled, “I think it was worth it though.”

He hums in agreement, “I think so too.”

You then slowly roll out of bed, walking around confidently, naked as the day you was born, “We should shower and get dressed. You said you wanted to check out that restaurant a couple blocks away, right?”

Bucky immediately sits up, “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t think we’re leaving this room at all.”

You look at him confusedly, “What do you-”

“Now that I got a taste of ya, I don’t think I ever wanna stop.” you see that lustful gaze in him again and you see that he’s starting to get hard once more.

You smirked, arms crossed over your chest, “I think I may have turned you into a sex fiend, Barnes.”

“Well, maybe you should c’mere and find out,” he says with a mischievous grin. And in no time, you’re going for round two because now Bucky just can’t seem to get enough of you.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #marvel #au #smut #truck driver au #chubby!bucky

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unofficialkfamtranscripts · 4 years

Text

King Falls AM - Episode Twelve: All the Pretty Flowers

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Summary: October 15, 2015 - Against Ben's wishes, Sammy broaches a touchy subject after witnessing a hearse delivering white roses on his way into the station. Is it a King Falls Halloween tradition or could it be something more sinister? #RedRumRoses

[podcast intro music]

[jazz music]

Chet Well the clock on the wall is telling me that’s all, y’all. So I’m gonna mosey on down to The Red Rock bar and buy all the ladies a drink on me. But don’t try to fool me again, Dennis. This has been Chet Sebastian’s Jazz Corner. Until next time… keep it cool King Falls.

[Sammy & Ben Show intro music]

Ben Good evening, you’re listening to King Falls AM [door closing]– that’s 660 on the radio dial. [slightly irked] And this is the Sammy and Ben show— sans-Sammy at the moment.

[footsteps]

Sammy Sorry about that, Ben! everybody at home. I was just running a little late. I was j- Y-you know, I just saw the weirdest thing!

Ben Was it Chet leaving? I told him to take that fur coat off. Guy looks like he walked off a set of a Blaxploitation[1] film.

Sammy *laughs* No, I wish I’d seen that. But I was driving in tonight- I was running a tad bit late, as you can see, and I swear to you: I’m coming up Main Street, I got behind a hearse delivering these giant white rose bouquets! Like, every couple of streets the damn thing’s stoppin’!

Ben No.

Sammy No *laughs* yeah it did.

Ben … SOOOOO… Weee’ve got a great show for you folks tonight. Uh, Ernie Salcedo…

Sammy Ben.

Ben *pointedly clearing his throat* … Yes?

Sammy Okay, I can see you slashing at your neck furiously and shaking your head “no”, but the audience can’t. Sooo, what’s the issue here?

Ben *nervously* I’m sorry we… just don’t talk about this, Sammy.

Sammy So you know of it! Is it like some kind of weird Halloween thing?

Ben [flatly] Halloween? Are you serious? We don’t celebrate Halloween here in the Falls, Sammy.

Sammy WHAT? This is like friggin’ Halloween Town! You know those shops that open up every year around Halloween and close the day after? King Falls is where all those shops should move to when it’s not Halloween.

Ben Two things. 1) That’s a horrible business model, and 2) Halloween is one, big, diabetic pumpkin.

Sammy Come on? You don’t like decorating? Trick-or-treating?

Ben ALL OF IT. It’s like you’re— tempting these ghouls and goblins to come and mess with you. We get enough of that here. And again, diabetes.

Sammy Okay, I can see where you’re coming from, but I’m not gonna lie— this is kind of a surprise.

Ben What can I say? We’re more the Christmas or Arbor Day types.

Sammy Okay, so the hearse is delivering flowers. What’s the deal if it’s not a Halloween… ritual?

Ben Did you really see that? Did someone tell you to mess with me about this?

Sammy Scout’s Honor. I was late because of it! I illegally passed on a double yellow line (sorry Deputy Troy) just to skate around ‘em and make my way up the mountain.

Ben … I don’t like this. I-I don’t know that I’ve ever known anyone that saw the flowers delivered. Usually businesses and people just find the wreaths the next morning. D-Di-Did you see inside the hearse? Was it… people?

Sammy You know, I didn’t look, but I’m gonna go out on a limb and say… it was a human being.

Ben Well, that’s good. *breath* It’s something.

Sammy Okay, so the roses…

Ben [voice breaking] Damnit, Sammy! We got a show scheduled, ya know?

Sammy I’m well aware! Just fill me in about the roses and we’ll move on.

Ben [muttering] Yeah yeah, okay, so… *deep breath* Every year, around this time—

Sammy Halloween…

Ben OCTOBER.

Sammy Uh-huh…

Ben Every— October… there is a certain society of people— and I use the term “people” loosely— that congregate and deliver the rose wreaths to individuals and businesses. That’s— a fact.

Sammy And?

Ben Annnd… nobody really knows what happens after that.

Sammy [audible grin] But legend has it…!

Ben Don’t “legend-has-it” me! Nobody knows for sure! Why gossip?

Sammy Okay. What do you think happens, Ben?

Ben *breathes in* Uuuugghhhh… Well, I think people either accept this weird— invitation or… they don’t. But I can tell you, the people that don’t? Well… they don’t, last long after that.

Sammy Okay. So we’ve just went from spooky 1-800-Flowers to murder in only a few easy steps.

Ben Not- murder- per say, but… businesses that decline tend to… move away or go under. Or tragedy strikes. Sure, I-I’ve heard stories of these folks winding up on the wrong end of a funeral ceremony, but… I couldn’t prove it. Are you satisfied now?

Sammy Of course. Thank you, Ben. King Falls, you’ve heard our story, now let’s hear yours!

Ben DON’T open the phone lines!

Sammy We’re-opening-up the phone lines here at the station! 424-279-3858. Have you had contact with this demonic annual floral delivery? Hit us up!

Ben Don’t call or tweet us. Please.

Sammy Give us a call or tweet us @KingFallsAM, [smugly] Ben will personally answer every tweet #RedrumRoses[2]

Ben NOPE! Not gonna happen.

Sammy Ben…[faux sympathy] It looks like the phone lines are lighting up, buddy.

Ben I expected better of you, King Falls.

Sammy Lucky Line 1, you’re on the air with Sammy And Ben.

Pete Low-down, gossip-mongering, muckraking filth.

Ben [flatly] Pete?

Sammy [quiet and amused] Escobar?

Pete N-uh- it’s Pete. You know damn well I’m listenin’.

Ben Wwhat’s on your mind tonight, Pete?

Sammy Did your mom teach you to start off phone calls with name-calling, Pete?

Pete [faint creaking in bg] My mom taught me to… stand up for myself! Don’t start a fight, but don’t be afraid to end it.

Sammy Who’s fighting?

Pete Oh, what a short attention span you have, Sammy. Not dwelling on you and Mr. Howard Ford Beauregard III issues; you’re picking a fight with the Unknown! Ben told you to shut your trap. [very faint sounds of driving]

Sammy Heh, lemme tell you, this would a long four hours if we didn’t talk and, y’ know, sometimes you have to—

Pete Yeah yeah, I get it, Mr. Nincompoop Radio Host. [creaking] You gotta blab. But that’s something you don’t trifle with. You should know this.

Ben Sammy, you know I hate to say Pete is right about anything, but—

Pete But I’m right about this! I know you know, Ben. That’s all I need to know. Stop yapping about things you don’t understand.

Ben Thanks, Pete.

Sammy [mostly resigned] Did you have a question or an experience with the flowers, Pete?

Pete Abs-absolutely not! I– d-don’t try to get me in trouble. [car door closing]

Ben You okay over there, Pete?

Pete [failing at being nonchalant] Yeah I’m just out, and… uh, just out.

Sammy [incredulous] This time of night?

[car door slamming]

Pete Yeah! I’m- runnin’ errands and- stuff like that, y’know. ‘T’s- It’s not- it’s not your business!

Ben [literally tongue-in-cheek] Uh-huh…

Pete You’re makin’ something of this. Yer- you’re doin’ somethin’, you’re getting me invo— Stop.

Ben It’s just weird, Mr. Beauregard’s gardener is out at 2 in the morning, running errands.

Sammy So your boss doesn’t have anything to do with the roses, does he, Pete?

Pete Ben Arnold. If you’ve got a lick of good sense, I wouldn’t walk too close to Sammy for the next feww… mm— mmmm… lifetimes! He’s gonna wind up on the bottom end of an anvil.

Sammy You know, I just don’t think asking questions is the equivalent of buying ACME rocket kits and trying to catch a damn bird.[3]

Ben [semi-stern] Y’mind answering his question, Pete?

[creaking]

Pete Oh, HELL NO. You two are a couple ‘a horse patoots. I’m never listening to this show again.

Ben Until tomorrow.

Pete PETE OUT! [click, dial tone]

Ben Are you happy, Sammy? Is this what you were hoping for?

Sammy Civilized conversation is the only thing I look for. That said… I’m gonna say, it’s a tad bit suspicious.

Ben There are dots we don’t need to connect. MOVING ON!

Sammy Maybe you’re right.

Ben Folks, we’re gonna take a break to pay some bills, and we’ll be right back and on schedule.

[rattle, guitar strums]

Dale (presumably) [voice is a low murmur (for lack of a better word)] Dale’s Dollar Tree… [strum] at dirt cheap prices… [strum] it’s almost free. [guitar,western music] Hi, everybody, I’m super excited to tell you ‘bout some unbelievable deals we have right now… at Dale’s Dollar Tree. Let’s segue to the savin’s [eagle screech] Our low prices are guaranteed… Who’s guaranteeing it, you ask? … Me… [guitar stops] How do you take advantage of these savings? [strum, rattle] 1) Walk into Dale’s Dollar Tree [strum] 2) Throw somethin’ in your cart [strum] 3) Savings. [guitar] Dale’s Dollar Tree. [eagle screech]

[S&B theme]

Sammy Ladies and gentlemen, we are back and you’re listening to King Falls AM. Now we were just talking about me running late this morning, because of a, uh, hearse—

Ben [cutting Sammy off] So we’ve got a great show scheduled tonight. We’ve got Mr. Eli Goldblum on later in the hour.

Sammy And who is Mr. Goldblum?

Ben Are you kidding me? Only the most renowned post-mortal psychologist known to man! He’s on his spoken-word world tour, and this Thursday, you can see him live at the King Falls Convention Center.

Sammy … That’sss-something.

Ben Indeed! So that’s in about… forrrty minutes. Uh, we got Rose, (from Rose’s Diner, of course) calling in to talk about how the Bee Crisis is affecting her honey-baked ham specials for the- foreseeable future.

Sammy [TIL] Really? That’s something that’s happening?

Ben Come on, Sammy. This bee situation is serious business.

Sammy You get points for not buzzing or saying “beeees-ness”

Ben You don’t wanna know how hard that was…

Sammy -eh- Okay. So, how can we help with the bees?

Ben Uhhh… cut- back- on swatting them?? *awkward laugh* I-I-I don’t know for sure that’s-that’s why we’re talkin’ to Rose.

Sammy Gotcha!

Ben And our first topic of discussion this evening— was gonna be—

Sammy About the flowers.

Ben Don’t.

Sammy Okay, look. Can we open up the phone lines again? I’d like to talk about these flowers. Uh, you tell King Falls your topic, and then we’ll see what they wanna talk about.

Ben You know they’ll talk about the damn rose wreaths!

Sammy You heard it here, folks. Line 7, you’re on with Sammy and Ben.

Herschel Ugh, I can’t sleep with all this damn racket going on! You two DINGLEBERRIES keep it down!

Sammy *laugh* Herschel??

Herschel Oh, hell. Don’t make me get out of bed and give you a full blast so late at night! [muttered] Don’t even know where my slippers are…

Ben Mr… Baumgartner, you realize you called us, right? This is- the radio station.

Herschel I know who and what I called. I dialed you DICKWHISTLES because all this [mocking] cry-babying about the damn flowers. Turn that jazz fella back on so- so I can get some rest!

Sammy Chet is on from 10 to 2, Mr. Baumgartner. This is Sammy and Ben and we- talk about—

Herschel I don’t give a damn if it’s Tricky Dick Nixon calling to give me a Congressional Medal of Honor! You shut your nose holes about the damn funeral flowers. And play me some heroin-fueled American art! [click]

[dial tone]

Sammy We’re gonna count that as one for the flowers…

Ben Line 14, you’re live on the air.

Creeper Long time listener here!

Sammy [click, dial tone]

Ben Did you hang up, Sammy?

Sammy Yeeaah, sorry. I hate that guy.

Ben Line 3,*chuckles* this is King Falls AM.

Beauregard Good evening, Benjamin. Samuel. This is—

Ben Beauretard?![sic]

Beauregard *sigh* Mr. Howard Ford Beauregard the Third. My man told me that you were spreading more lies than usual on your little “radio show.” I thought I would call and clear the air.

Sammy Mr. Beauregard, can I just say, before this call goes ANY further— that we will not accept any abuse towards us or the listeners of this show.

Beauregard How cute that you think people listen to you two buffoons.

Ben That’s abuse! That’s exactly what we were—

Beauregard Oh, that’s a joke where I come from. You millennials would never have lasted back in my day. With your emotions and feelings and the like.

Ben When was that day, again, Mr. Beauregard?

Beauregard Information about myself and my family, can be found in my international, best-selling e-book, “King of King Falls” … I don’t have to answer to— well— you.

Sammy *sigh* Did you have a reason for the call tonight, Beauregard?

Beauregard Indeed, I do. While men with any couth wouldn’t speak about festivities that they know nothing aboouut—

Sammy So, you’re behind these deliveries?

Ben Also, while I would never name names and throw my friend under a bus— you should know this wasn’t the agreed upon topic of the show.

Sammy Oh, stop it.

Beauregard [agonizingly insincere] I don’t know a thing about the supposed yearly white rose deliveries you speak of. My family, nor myself, have ever been involved with such jovality.[sic] In fact, in all my years I can’t recollect such a thing.

Ben I don’t buy that for a second. Maybe you’ve never sent the roses, and— let’s play devil’s advocate and say, sure, you’ve never received them (which I doubt), but there is No Way you haven’t heard of this.

Beauregard Maybe it’s something you commoners have made up, like, uhh- the tooth fairy or the Illuminati orrr— equal rights for the sexes.

Ben I can’t deal with this guy! Just dump him and let’s take another line.

Sammy Wait… Mr. Beauregard. If you don’t care about this— and, in fact, haven’t even heard of it until tonight— why would you bother to break your Hate-Silence with us to call in?

Beauregard You’re not nearly as dumb as you look, Stevens! And while I continue to honor my statement before— I’d have to assume that this “rose” ordeal is a real thing. It’s probably a very special thing! An intimate invitation sent by the upper echelons of King Falls. A way of making amends or bring people worthy of attention, into a conversation that normally would not have been invited to have.

Ben Just for everyone keeping score at home: I took a college course on Crazy and I believe he is saying he knows that the wreath deliveries are real, and he is probably behind them.

Beauregard Time is money, gentleman. Not that you understand that concept. But instead of painting a ceremony you know nothing about as tragic and scary— perhaps it’s not. Perhaps it’s something more than that, entirely. In any case, it’s not something that should be spoken about in public. [phone pings] Ahhh… I’ll be going now, “gentlemen.” And while I do use that word lightly, perhaps take a break from your radio program and… check your door.

Ben Isss that a threat?

Beauregard Trick-or-Treat, Samuel… Benjamin. [click]

[dial tone]

Sammy I wonder what he sounds like when he has something nice to say to people.

Ben He probably hasn’t said anything nice to a person since the 60s… The 1860s.

Sammy Ya know, I didn’t mean to ruffle anyone’s feathers tonight. Especially crazy old billionaires who try to drive us off the air— so let’s just—

Ben I’M GONNA GO CHECK THE DOOR.

Sammy What?!

Ben Yeah. [chair sliding out] I’m sorry, man. Beauregard gives me the willies [squeak] and I wanna make sure there isn’t—

Sammy A sugar-glider on a noose?

Ben Too far. I was just gonna say— that he hasn’t had Pete ding-dong-ditch us- or something.

Sammy And here I thought the Williams boys had that market cornered.

Ben I’ll be back in a sec. [footsteps rushing off]

Sammy [shouting after him] Don’t talk about Pete that way, Ben! He’s never gonna listen to the show again! Alright, folks. We are just a few hot minutes away from Eli Goldblum coming into the studio to talk about, [ominous bg music starts] uh… I’m guessing- ghosts with lingering mental issues? Ah, sorry— apparitions. [footsteps rushing back] I’m holding out hope for an apparition with multiple personality disorder, but I don’t know if that’s a thing or not… [chair squeak, Ben sitting] Ben? You okay, buddy?

Ben [upset] How many times, did I ask you to stop talking about the stupid, hearse, Sammy?

Sammy What’s wrong?

Ben [sarcastic] Oh, nothing. You wanna go outside and take a look?

Sammy You know, I don’t think I want to. I’m happy with you filling me in.

Ben Well, I didn’t go outside, Sammy! I didn’t have to. I looked out the front window.

[ominous bg music getting louder]

Sammy Yeah? And?

Ben [hissed] damnit

Sammy … Ben. What is going on? Do we need to call Troy?

Ben The whole parking lot- your car, MY car— as far as the lights will let me see— Nothing but white roses, man.

Sammy … Are you serious?

Ben Go look!! Just don’t go out there, huh? It looked like it was snowing, that’s how many of those damn things are out there.

Sammy [scrambling for optimism] What’s the chances that it’s just a non-Halloween bouquet from Emily to you?

Ben ZERO. Zero percent chance, Sammy.

Sammy [seriously] Folks, we’ll be right back after a word from our sponsors.

[KFAM outro]

[CREDITS]

References

[1] Blaxploitation - Blaxploitation or blacksploitation is an ethnic subgenre of the exploitation film that emerged in the United States during the early 1970s. The films, while popular, suffered backlash for disproportionate numbers of stereotypical film characters showing bad or questionable motives, including roles as criminals.

[2] #RedrumRoses - Redrum is from the psychological horror film The Shining. It’s “murder” spelled backward.

[3] “ACME rocket kits and trying to catch a damn bird” - I sincerely hope no one will ever be too young for this reference, but I once had my little brothers ask who Mr. Rogers was so: this is a reference to the Looney Toons cartoons, Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner. In each episode, Coyote repeatedly attempts to catch and eat the Road Runner, a fast-running ground bird, but is never successful. In order to catch the Road Runner, Coyote uses absurdly complex contraptions- most acquired from the mail-order company ACME- to try to catch his prey, which all backfire comically with Coyote often getting injured in slapstick fashion.

#king falls am #king falls #kfam #sammy stevens #Ben Arnold #kfam transcripts #kfam ep12 #pete myers #herschel baumgartner #hfb3

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dwaynepride · 5 years

Text

It Will Rain

Summary: Pride can’t wait anymore. If he doesn’t spill his guts, he may lose you forever.

Words: 3,602

Warnings: None

Tags: @6adb0y @thegoodlonelydalek @consultingdoctorwholock @pageofultron @stanathanxoox @starryrevelations @thebeckyjolene @diaryofafan17 @specialagentlokitty

Notes: title comes from this song and while this fic isn’t based off of it, i think it really fits uwuwu

The sky is turning dark red as Pride stands in the courtyard, watching the NOPD officers take his suspect to holding. He regrets sending him off to a cell for the night without getting much out during interrogation. While Pride knows damn well that this investigation is far from over, he hates sees that smug smile of a man being taken away from federal custody.

For now, at least.

He gives a cross huff, head shaking while Pride turns and makes his way toward the kitchen. There’s not much they could do tonight. It’s basically a waiting game of Sebastian finding some forensic evidence, or maybe they can get a witness to talk. Some kind of leverage to coerce a confession.

But waiting was harder than the case itself. Pride thought himself a patient man, but waiting around for results and testimonies was one of his least-favourite parts of the process.

Pride is still stuck in his own head as he enters the kitchen, finding it difficult to put the case behind him for the night. Maybe he’ll go to the bar and work on something that isn’t a murder. Or take Loretta up on her offer of having dinner with her and the boys. Or maybe...

“Hey, Pride!”

His attention snaps back to reality instantly, eyes rising to the source of the greeting. Pride genuinely thought he was the only one here. He heard something about Christopher and Gregorio going out for the night, and just assumed you were going with them. And yet, here you are, in his kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee.

Even though it’s really getting late. “Hey,” he greets lightly, hands in his pockets as he approaches. “What’re you still doing here? I thought you’d be out with the others.”

You just give him a shrug, looking down to mix some sugar in the coffee. “I was gonna, but there’s a couple things I wanted to do tonight. Get a headstart for tomorrow, you know?”

Pride gives a light amused huff as he finally reaches you. “You’d rather be hangin’ around here instead of out having fun?” He asks, a teasing tone edging his voice. And it makes you smile. Pride couldn’t even remember being frustrated about the interrogation.

“Who says I can’t have fun with you?” Your eyes raise, meeting his, reflecting each others smiles. As if the whole day hasn’t been slow and aggravating and maybe there can be a good ending to it. Pride was suddenly glad that you decided to stick around; he needed a good dose of peace that came with being alone with you.

His head dips in concession, as if he would ever argue against your wishes. “Alright, well, at least lemme make you something. I’m sure you haven’t eaten much today,” Pride says, skirting around you to the fridge. There wasn’t too much here, unfortunately. He can probably whip up some sandwiches.

“You don’t have to, Pride. Coffee’s fine-”

“Nope, I don’t wanna hear it. You’ll work better with some food in you.”

You sigh. You glare at him. But eventually, you dip your head and slide into one of the bar stools, clutching the cup of coffee. And Pride sets off to prepare your food. As if your presence wasn’t calming enough, just being able to slow down and work in his kitchen is just what he needed. Preparing some food, even if it is as simple as a couple sandwiches.

As peaceful as the moment is, Pride can’t shake off a certain feeling of tenseness. Like a rubber band pulled taut. He knows some of it is due to your staring at him in silence, finger tapping against your mug. Pride can feel your eyes on him, and it makes his heart beat just a little faster. But the tense air has always been there, lingering in the background when you and him had time alone, like this. Or even when the others are around. As if there’s something he should be doing, and you’re both aware that he’s not.

Pride clears his throat involuntarily, trying to pull his focus away from his own churning thoughts. They’re gonna ruin this precious little moment. “Ya know, after this case is over, I really think you outta go out. Have some fun with the others,” Pride speaks up, his eyes darting up to yours. “You deserve it.”

You blink at him. Give a little smile than forces him to reflect one of his own. “I might. If you come with us.”

“Come with you?”

“Yeah! You usually like music and drinks and hanging out.”

Pride lets out a shy little scoff, shrugging his shoulders: at the bar, sure. But he can’t remember the last time he actually went out for the fun of it. “I dunno. I think you’d have more fun with Christopher and the others,” Pride replies. Did he sound self-deprecating? That wasn’t his intention.

You didn’t seem to think so. In fact, you didn’t look at all bothered by the light rejection. “Alright, maybe we could go out,” you offer. Instantly, his blood cools, and Pride’s head jerks up in surprise.

Go out?

His reaction causes you to backpedal, eyes averting in embarrassment. “I meant, you know, to the bar. Just for some drinks or something. You deserve some time off, as well.”

Even though you changed your tune - the words technically meaning it would be two friends getting some drinks together - Pride had a feeling that it wasn’t so black and white. He’d be foolish to pretend he hasn’t put serious thought into whether he should risk crossing the line with you. Dating a fellow agent: it was messy stuff, and honestly, Pride was more afraid of ruining a friendship than he was about whatever protocols you two would surely break.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting to. Didn’t stop you from wanting him to take the first step.

Pride scares himself with how close he is to saying yes.

Instead, his eyes fall down to the sandwiches, finishing them up by topping them with a slice of bread. “Uh, food’s done,” he says. Pride hates to ignore the topic, like he did. To completely sweep it under the rug; he was the type to face things head on. But was this the right time to do that?

He hears you stand from the stool, and Pride assumes you’re coming to get the sandwich. Maybe the two of you can still have this time alone at the office. It’ll be like it always is.

Instead, you back up toward the archway of the kitchen. And when Pride looks back up, your eyes are down. Shoulders slouched. His gut is instantly tight at the look on your face. “Actually, uh, I’m kinda tired. I think I should head home.”

Pride can’t help but frown. “Head home. You sure?” He asks, coming around the island to get closer.

But you’re careful to keep your distance. Smiling tightly to try and play off the hurt you’re surely feeling. The hurt he caused. “Yeah, I actually have to get up early in the morning. There’s something I have to do before coming in.”

You say nothing more after that. Pride watches silently from the archway as you grab your coat and head out the door. His stomach is now too tight to even think about eating. And he reckons sleep won’t come easy; he’ll be replaying this encounter over and over in his head, scolding himself, but for what? Being cold? Or cowardly?

Either way, Pride hates himself for hurting you. And goes about cleaning up the kitchen with a heavy heart.

The next day was about as chaotic as Pride predicted it would be. True to your word, you didn’t show up until a little later in the day before getting caught up in the case. Pride could only recall speaking to you once, and that was over the phone.

As much as the distance was making the day no better, he supposed it’s for the best. What if he said something else to hurt your feelings? Or maybe you just didn’t want to see him? That second possibility hurt to think about - he knows you probably wanted more out of last night. Hell, he wanted it, too.

Pride runs his fingers through his hair with a harsh sigh, squinting his eyes down at the papers strewn out across his desk.

Now just wasn’t the time to be jumping into relationships - that’s all.

Commotion from the door has Pride lifting his gaze from the papers. Sebastian and Gregorio came walking through with slackened shoulders and dragging feet; it’s been a long day. He can tell they were ready to go home. “Any luck with eye witnesses?” Pride asks, though he probably already knows the answer.

“No,” Tammy answers with a flat voice. “We walked about a dozen blocks, asking people if they saw our victim around the area in the last month. Nobody saw nothin’.”

“Or they have, and they’re just not telling us,” Sebastian cuts in, collapsing into his chair. “Either way, we have squat.”

Pride sighs again, reclining back in his chair and rubbing his heavy eyes. “I shoulda called Chris and Y/N. Sent ‘em your way for some help,” he says.

Tammy’s already saddling up her things, but she looks up at the mention of your name. A small little huff comes from her chest. “It’s no big deal, Pride. Besides, if Y/N takes that job offer, we’ll have to get used to being a man down.”

Job offer?

The words send ice into Pride’s spine. He thinks for a moment that maybe he heard her wrong. Maybe he’s just tired and read something in the files about a job offer. But even Pride knows that explanation doesn’t stand; he knows he heard Gregorio right. And suddenly, all the fatigue in his body is gone as he stands at his desk, leaning closer towards Tammy. “Job offer?” He echoes.

She’s quiet for a moment. Looks over to Sebastian, and when Pride does the same, he finds that the forensic agent has his eyes averted to his computer screen to avoid the stare. So Pride looks back to Tammy, his stomach growing tight with a desperate need to know. “What job offer, Gregorio?”

“I thought they told you. I mean, the rest of us knew, so-”

“Well, tell me now.”

Tammy’s arms fall to her sides, looking exasperated. “The thing that kept them busy this morning? It was an interview with the FBI. Something about a position that opened up. Y/N’s been getting calls, and I guess they went to hear what they had to say.”

The floor was suddenly swaying under Pride’s feet. Has he really been so blind that you went for a job interview and he didn’t know? He was usually on top of things, like this. He knew before anybody else did. And yet, this somehow flew under his radar.

He swallows, feeling a little sick before tilting his head at Gregorio. “Are they takin’ the job?”

“I don’t know.”

Good. That’s good. Pride still had time to talk to you. To be honest.

He’s grabbing his phone and keys and marching out the door before either of his agents can say anything more. Pride needed to get to your house as quickly as possible. It was late, sure. You might not appreciate him knocking on your door after a hard day, but he knew in his gut that this couldn’t wait until morning.

Pride tries his hardest to focus on driving, but his thoughts drift to you. More specifically, all the perfect moments over these last few months when he could’ve said something about the way he felt. Back then, it always felt necessary to ignore it. There was plenty of time, he’d tell himself. Soon. He’d tell you soon. When the time was right.

Evidently, Pride waited too long for the perfect moment. Whether he liked it or not, it was now or never.

His car screeches to a stop in front of your place. The lights are off, and had it not been for your car in the driveway, Pride would’ve been afraid that you weren’t even home. So, quick as he can, he turns the car off and jumps out, making his way to your front door.

His chest is impossibly tight, making it hard to breathe as he stops in front of the door. For a brief moment, Pride is tempted to just turn around and walk back to his car. Would it really be fair of him to dump this on you in the midst of an important decision? How much would it influence which job to choose?

Pride’s fist bangs on the door - hard, in case you’re asleep.

No, he knew you felt something for him, too. If he wasn’t honest tonight, he’ll regret not giving you that choice.

There’s no answer, so Pride knocks again. It feels like time stretches on for much longer than it really is. As the seconds tick by, the growing pit of dread in his stomach grows and grows. Maybe you weren’t even home. Or maybe you’re just not answering, knowing it’s him and not wanting to speak him.

The thought makes Pride turn away from your front door. And he takes a couple steps away before finally hearing the locks flip. When he looks back, you’re peering out through the crack in the door with blurry eyes. “Pride?” You ask in a groggy voice.

You open the door wider, and he can see you’ve changed into loose-fitting pajamas. Messy hair and slow movements - you were obviously sleeping. And even though Pride felt a bit of guilt at disturbing you, he was beyond pleased that you were answering the door. Talking to him. “Uh, hey. Sorry for wakin’ you up,” he replies, coming back to his previous spot.

Your head shakes, watching his hand fit into his pockets. Watching the way his eyes don’t truly meet yours; something was up. “It’s okay. Is something wrong?”

“No, no, everything’s fine.” Dwayne stops himself, shaking his head vehemently as he backpedals. “Actually, no. Everything’s not fine. I heard about your interview with the FBI.” Once the words are out, your own eyes fall away from his. So Pride tilts his head to reestablish contact. “When were you gonna tell me?”

“I wasn’t,” you answer, and then sigh. “At least, not until I figured out what I was gonna do.”

Pride understands your reasoning; he really did. But that doesn’t stop him from leaning forward, needing more of an explanation. “Don’t you think this is something you shoulda shared with me?” He asks, fighting to keep a desperate tone from entering his voice.

Your eyes immediately return to his at the question. “Why?”

He almost says it. Blurts out the three impossibly-heavy words that’s been hanging like an anvil over his head since Gregorio told him about your interview. But at the last moment, Pride backpedals and straightens up. “I’m your boss,” he says, as if that was the problem.

Something twists in his gut when your face hardens up. Pride can basically feel the walls going up - you suddenly felt a million miles away from him. “Well, I didn’t know I needed your permission to go for interviews.” Your voice is much harsher than it was before, and it causes Pride’s eyes to fall to the ground. “And I haven’t even decided if I’m taking it, so-”

“I don’t think you should.”

Did he just say that out loud? Geez, it’s not like this was his decision. Like he had any stake at all in your career. For all he knows, the FBI would be good for you. Pride can imagine the prestige that’ll come with an NCIS agent who was asked to join.

But the thought of you leaving and never coming back scared the hell out of him. Left a yawning pit in his stomach.

Your arms cross at his words, still looking stern. “Why not?” You ask.

This was Pride’s chance; he saw that clearly now. No more being afraid of crossing lines or ruining a friendship. Not when he could lose you. Pride sucks in a deep breath because he realizes he hasn’t been breathing. “Because that’d mean you won’t be here. With me. And I really don’t want you to go. I know I’ve been cowardly and never said a damn thing, but...”

The words get stuck in his throat. Pride watches you take a step closer, eyes focused solely on him. Your expression is no longer angry or defensive. It’s more like you’re....searching. Waiting for him to say the right thing that’ll get you to stay. And Pride knows what it is.

“I love you. Please don’t go.”

It’s done. It’s out now. After months of burying it and ignoring it, Pride lets his feelings see the light of day. He knows he should feel relieved; he never enjoys keeping his emotions underwrap. But right now, it’s almost as if Pride’s heart has stopped beating.

At least until your searching gaze lights up, and you smile at him. Bright and warm and almost-painfully jumpstarts his heart but he can’t even feel it past the hot rush of joy. Dwayne mimics the smile before you’re suddenly on him, arms wrapped around his shoulders and squeezing tightly. He instantly circles his own arms around your midsection.

Sure, you both have hugged before. You were close friends, and Pride was an affectionate guy. Touches weren’t out of the question. But this hug was miles ahead every other hug you’ve shared. Because Dwayne didn’t have to stop himself from spreading his fingers out across your back. Didn’t have to fight back the urge to push his face into the crevice of your neck.

So he does just that, and then sighs when he feels your fingers play with the hair at the base of his skull. “I love you, too,” you mumble out, right next to his ear.

The words warm Dwayne more than he could ever possibly think they would. So he grins into your neck, not even bothering to pull away to ask his next question. “So you won’t go?”

The vibrations of his voice in your neck make you laugh. And when you try to pull away to look at him, Dwayne instinctively pulls you closer. Like he was afraid you’d suddenly run away. Or worse; say you were taking the job.

You finally pull back enough to look him in the eye. And despite everything, there’s a bit of fear and worry shining in his green gaze. Fear, because after finally letting himself step over line, maybe it wasn’t enough. Worry, because perhaps you didn’t love him enough to stay.

But then you shake your head, and smile at him again. “No, I won’t.”

The smile turns into a grin that Dwayne instantly reflects. He’s eager to pull you back in, already addicted to the feeling of having your body pressed against his. But he can’t seem to break contact with your eyes. Nor you with his. The air around you suddenly weighs more than it should be, or maybe it’s just hard for Dwayne to breathe.

Either way, he raises a hand to fit along your jawline. His thumb comes out to trace over your cheek; soft and warm. And the way your head leans into his hand doesn’t help ease the pounding of his heart.

Lining up his lips with yours was the most natural thing in the world.

At first, it was a motionless kiss. Just pressing your lips together to get the feel of it. But in no time, Dwayne starts moving, and you follow his lead. He immediately moves to start sucking on your bottom lip, and the way you inhale at the sensation gives him goosebumps. Your hand moving through the hair on the back of his head only makes them stronger.

You’re both breathing through your noses to stretch the kiss on for as long as possible. And Dwayne is content to stand here all night doing just that; you felt way too good to let go.

But there’s a phone call. From inside your house. Who the hell was calling you this late?

You’re the one who finally breaks the kiss; flustered and panting and smiling shyly. Dwayne has no doubts that he’s in the same state, but his head is in the clouds, so he can’t be sure. That’s why he silently walks through your front door after you grab his hand and you pull him inside.

Neither of you speak. It’s a little awkward, in a good way - you feeling bad that your phone cut the kiss short, and Dwayne just eager to continue it. But he simply watches as you walk up the coffee table, sweeping up your phone and checking the caller ID. “Who is it?” He asks lightly.

“The FBI agent who interviewed me. He said he’d call me, night or day, when he got any news.”

Dwayne nods, expecting you to answer, but you never do. And it makes him frown a little in confusion. “Arent’cha gonna answer it?” Dwayne questions, stepping up to stand beside you.

A second later, you shake your head and send the call to voicemail. Dwayne’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but then your arms are around his shoulders again. Lips brushing against his. And he suddenly couldn’t care less about the phone call.

#ncis new orleans imagine #ncis new orleans x reader #ncis nola x reader #dwayne pride x reader #dwayne pride imagine

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mythicalsecretsanta · 5 years

Text

Cookie Crisis (T)

This gift is for: Ellie (AKA @elliefcutie)

Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy this, I really loved writing it. Hope your 2019 brings you only the best things!

A note on the rating/content. It’s rated G but they are drinking alcohol so I put it as T…idk E seemed like overkill. anyway, tw drinking. It’s platonic love with a whiff of Rhink. nothing remotely explicit or sexual though.

From your Secret Santa, Liz (AKA @mythicaliz)

Link to AO3 or read below:

As much as he loved his peace and quiet, Rhett also loved when his house was bustling with the chaos of both pairs of the Mclaughlin and Neal boys. It was two days before Christmas and both families were enjoying their dose of pre-Christmas excitement. Christy had made an emergency trip back to North Carolina to help after her father had broken his leg. She’d been there for three weeks and was due home the next evening, just in time for Christmas. Link and Lily were home, baking cookies for her church youth group’s Christmas eve party. It was the first Christmas both families would be in Los Angeles and they were all looking forward to building new family traditions. It was nine pm, dinner was long over, the younger boys were in bed and the older pair played video games in the basement.

Rhett walked into the rec room and placed a bowl of popcorn and two cans of Mello Yello on the side table, and left unnoticed by the two teenage boys. Rhett leaned against the door jam and watched them, their figures, silhouetted by the flashing video game on the TV. Locke sat on the sofa, his gangly awkward body reminded Rhett’s of his own at his age. Some parts too tall already, other parts still somewhat boyish. Lincoln sat on the floor beside Locke. Every day he looked more and more like his father and Rhett couldn’t help but enjoy seeing his best friend grow up right before his eyes all over again.

“Get ‘em!” Lincoln shouted as he and Locke worked in tandem to take down the boss they were fighting. Victorious, they high fived and Lincoln flopped down on the couch beside Locke. The video game beaten and forgotten, the conversation turned to a girl in Lincoln’s class that he liked. Rhett wanted desperately to hear what horrible advice Locke was going to give Lincoln, but instead he decided to give the boys their privacy.

Rhett headed up stars, past Shepard’s room. Shep and Lando had gone to bed an hour ago but he still heard fits of giggles coming from the room. He cracked the door open and the pair were under Shepard’s comforter with a flashlight, telling silly stories and making eachother giggle. Rhett closed the door and couldn’t help but grin.

He felt a slim arm wrap around his waist in a sideways hug.

“You love having them here, don’t ya?” Jessie said as she gave him a squeeze.

“Yeah. It brings back a lot of good memories I have with Link. I’m glad our boys get to have them too.”

“You’re so lucky to have him,” she said as she rested her head on his arm.

“Yeah, y’know I was talking in therapy how it’s taken me so long to admit how important Link is to me. I mean.. I…uh…”

“You love him. And I love that you love him,” Jessie responded.

Rhett’s phone rang and he dug it out of his pocket. “Speak of the devil,” he said as he pulled away from Jessie, pacing up and down the hall as he took the call.

“The kids are fine, Link… oh no what’s going on… okay okay slow down brother, what do you need?”

Rhett sighed and looked up at Jessie, his hand cupped over the receiver and whispered, “You okay to handle the boys on your own? Link’s in a jam.”

Jessie rolled her eyes and nodded.

“I’ll be right over,” he said into the phone and hung up.

“Everything alright?” Jessie asked.

“Yeah, Link’s neighbour, y’know Elise? Her husband is out of town and her son’s appendix burst, she’s at the hospital with him and Lily’s emergency babysitting the two younger kids, which leaves Link to have to make a hundred gingerbread cookies for tomorrow and he’s in a state.”

“Oh gosh, don’t let that man bake!” Jessie said with a grin.

“I’d better get over there before the damn house burns down. Don’t wait up,” he said as he kissed her on the cheek and ran downstairs.

The drive to Link’s was a breeze, he could do it in his sleep. Two left turns, down to the end of the cul de sac. Easy. But it was already nine thirty. Normally he’d be watching something on Netflix with Jessie, thinking about going to bed. But he knew he had a long night ahead of him.

He pushed Link’s front door open and entered the foyer where he hung up his jacket.

“DANGIT!” Link exclaimed with a clatter of pans from the kitchen.

Rhett ran in to see Link holding his hand around his red wrist, eyes full of tears as he cursed up a storm.

Rhett grabbed Link’s hand a thrust it under the faucet which he turned as cold as it would go. He held Link’s hand there for a moment until Link nodded. Rhett got a clean tea towel from the drawer and some ice from the fridge. He balled the ice up in the towel, turned off the water, and held the ice to Link’s wrist.

“Better?” Rhett aked.

“Yeah, thanks,” Link sighed. “I was taking a pan of cookies out and hit the upper rack with my wrist.”

“Well, on the bright side, you only broke one cookie and they look pretty good!,” Rhett said as he picked up half of a broken gingerbread man. He blew on it for a few seconds and then took a large chomp out of the cookie. His eyes crossed a little as he looked around for something to spit it into.

“Oh come on! They can’t be that bad!” Link said as Rhett retched into a garbage can.

“Salty…” he whispered, “So salty!” Rhett chugged a glass of water. “Why so salty?!”

“No, that’s not right, there’s only a teaspoon of salt, lemme taste,” Link said, grabbing the cookie Rhett had taken a bite of.

“Nuh-uh,” Link said as he spit his out too.

“You must have mixed up the salt and sugar,” Rhett replied as he chugged another glass.

“Gosh this is hopeless!” Link replied.”Christy has everything in these unmarked bins, I don’t know what’s what! I’m workin’ blind here!”

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Rhett said as he smoothed out his beard. “Where’s your recipe?”

Link pointed to a stained piece of paper on the counter.

Rhett muttered to himself as he read the recipe. “This seems straightforward enough. I’m gonna order all new ingredients, get them sent over by Postmates, so we know what everything is.” He pulled out his phone and ordered what they needed along with a few other items he deemed essential.

“Okay, while we wait, I’m gonna clean up so we can start with all clean utensils. First, lemme see your wrist.”

Link sheepishly pulled back the ice bag, and Rhett pressed his index finger on the burn.

“Ouch, Rhett,” Link said softly.

“It’s still hot, put the ice back on. You sit down. Maybe put some music on?”

“Alexa, play Merle Haggard’s Christmas Present,” Link said to the speaker on the kitchen counter.

Merle’s soothing voice began singing, “If We Make it Through December.” Rhett sang along as he filled the sink with soapy water and threw measuring cups and mixing bowls in. He took a cloth and wiped down the large marble kitchen island and swept the floor. In no time the kitchen was sparkling and the Postmates guy had arrived with their order. Link unpacked the bags. Flour, sugar, icing sugar, butter, baking powder, molasses, pasteurized egg whites, cream of tartar, spices, eggs, vanilla, milk, parchment paper, a glass jug of eggnog, and a bottle of rum.

“Really?” Link said, gesturing to the rum and eggnog.

“Look, it’s gonna be a long night, and we’re in need of some good old Christmas cheer,” Rhett said with a grin as he grabbed two glasses from the cupboard.

“I meant really? Rum? Were southern boys, we drink bourbon,” Link said as he pulled a bottle of Southern Comfort out of a high cabinet and handed it to Rhett. “Besides, I had a bad experience with rum once. Remember in college?”

“I remember, you were rough!” Rhett laughed as he poured them both a spiked eggnog and held out his glass. “Dink it,” he said.

“And sink it,” Link said, reluctantly clinked glasses and drank.

Rhett read through the recipe again, muttering to himself. “Alright, doctor, two sticks of butter,” he said, with an outstretched palm.

“Doctor?” Link said as he began to peel the wrapping off the butter.

“STAT!” Rhett said with a grin.

“Alright, doctor,” Link rolled his eyes as he handed the butter off to Rhett.

A few minutes later Rhett shut off the stand mixer and scraped the dough into a ball which he placed on a well floured counter. He shaped it into a disk and reached for the rolling pin.

“Wait!” Link exclaimed, “Quality control!”

Rhett pinched off a small ball of dough and threw it to Link who popped it in his mouth. A bright grin broke out on his face.

“Good?” Rhett asked as he pulled off a taste for himself. Link nodded.

Rhett rolled out the dough in long strokes until it was the perfect thickness. He tentatively pressed the cookie cutter into the dough. He pulled it up, relieved to see a perfect impression of the gingerbread man in the dough. His tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he slid a spatula under the raw cookie and delicately placed it on the parchment lined sheet. “Phew!” he said, “One down, ninety-nine to go.”

“This is gonna take forever,” Link sighed.

“You keep cutting these out, and I’ll start the next batch of dough,” he said as he tossed the cookie cutter to Link. Before he began the next bach he topped off both of their drinks. Link was right, it was going to be a long night.

Link cut out as many men as he could from the dough then balled up the scraps to reroll it to make more. He pressed the dough into a disk and began to roll it out again with the large wooden rolling pin. “Ugh!” he said as he struggled.

Rhett turned off the stand mixer and moved over to assist Link. “Here, we need to flour your rolling pin so it doesn’t stick,” Rhett said as he reached around Link and held the handle, his hand over Link’s as he liberally applied flour to the pin. He slid his hands past Link’s waist and guided Link’s hands over the handles of the pins and showed him how much pressure to apply and how to get a smooth, even surface. His beard bristled against Link’s ear as he softly said, “Easy now.”

“Like this, Rhett?” Link almost whispered.

“Perfect,” Rhett replied. He couldn’t help but notice how naturally they fit together. How his height allowed him to see clearly over Link’s shoulder, how his arms fit around Link’s slim waist and how their fingers intertwined over the handles of the rolling pin. “You got it,” he said as he pulled his hands away and returned to the mixer.

“How do you know this stuff anyway?” Link asked as he pushed up his glasses with a floured hand. “It’s not like you bake.”

“Nah, but I do watch way too many hours of Food Network,” Rhett said with a wink as he turned out a second batch of dough.

A few minutes later the first batch of cookies were ready to come out of the oven. “Let me do it, I don’t want you to burn yerself again,” Rhett said as he grabbed the oven mitt from Link. Slowly he pulled them out of the oven and placed them on the stove top. “What d’ya think?” He asked.

“They smell great!” Link said cheerfully, “But I don’t know if they’re done?”

“Remember what Josh said? If they look browned they’ll be burnt. Let’s leave them a few minutes to firm up. In the meantime we’ve earned ourselves another drink!”

Link poured this time and quickly they’d downed another spiked eggnog. The cookies cooled and Rhett picked one up. He broke it in half with a satisfying snap and handed half to Link. They both took a bite and grinned at each other at the delicious result.

They developed a system, Rhett made the dough, Link rolled it out and cut it, Rhett pulled them out of the oven and transferred them to cooling racks and they started over again, pausing for another boozy eggnog in between each batch. Soon, all the cookies were done baking and they had over a hundred gingerbread men in front of them to be decorated.

Link poured various candies and sprinkles into small bowls while Rhett mixed up a batch of royal icing. He spooned the thick white cream into a pastry bag, picked it up, and began to pipe decorations onto the first cookie. He squeezed the bag and the icing shot out quicker than he anticipated.

“Arghhhh,” he exclaimed. Link turned around from washing dishes at the sink and grabbed Rhett’s hand, pulling it up to his mouth and licked the icing that was dripping down the side of Rhett’s hand and his wrist.

“Did you really just do that?!” Rhett said, tears forming as he doubled over in laughter.

“Whut ihs thusss?” Link tried to speak with a mouthful of thick icing.

“Mostly egg whites,” Rhett said, laughing even harder.

“Ugh,” Link said as he spat the icing into the garbage and drained his glass of eggnog.

“You licked me!”

“Well, it seemed like the most reasonable thing to do at the time,” Link replied with a toothy grin.

“Gosh you’d think after thirty five years I would have seen that coming.”

“What can I say, Rhett, I’m full of surprises!”

Rhett washed his hands and picked up the icing to try again. This time, with a more delicate touch, he was able to get better control and pipe icing onto various candies which Link affixed to the gingerbread men to dress them up. Gumdrop buttons, silver ball eyes, licorice scarves. They looked adorable. Homemade, very homemade, but adorable.

Two hours and a few more drinks later, they were almost done. Link’s hips swayed along to Merle singing, My Favourite Memory. “There’s a million good times I could dwell on, but you are my favourite memory of all,” he sang as he washed the last few dishes.

“There’s a million good day dreams to dream on, but, baby, you’re my favourite memory of all,” Rhett sang as he decorated the last two gingerbread men. Theses ones were different than the others. One had icing abs and spiky icing hair, the other glasses and cross hatched icing plaid pants. “Look Link, it’s us,” Rhett grinned as he held up the two gingerbread men.

“Well, ain’t we cute,” Link said as he shut off the tap.

“You wanna eat me, or you?” Rhett asked, holding out the cookies.

“Ha! I’m not sure how to answer that? You I guess?” Link said, taking the Rhett cookie.

“Why’d you pick me?” Rhett said as he bit the head off the Link cookie.

“I dunno, practice for the apocalypse I guess when I’ll have to cannibalize you?” Link grinned as he ate a foot. “Dang these are good. Thank you for all your help, Rhett,” he said. “Crap it’s two in the mornin’. We can leave the rest of the dishes till tomorrow. I just remembered the guest room has no clean sheets right now. You wanna sleep on the couch or with me?”

“You, I guess. Be like our sleepovers we used to have ‘round Christmas time as kids.”

Link yawned and nodded. The pair made their way upstairs. Rhett had a toothbrush in the spare room from times when he’d be there working late so he brushed his teeth and washed his face. He pulled off his jeans and sweatshirt and padded down the plush hallway carpeted in his boxers and black v-neck t-shirt. He crawled into bed and assumed the usual rigid position he took when sleeping with Link, flat on his back to minimize contact.

A few minutes later, after completing his rigorous nighttime routine, Link crawled into bed. “Night brother, thanks again, you really saved me. I just want this Christmas to be so special. Our first Christmas in Los Angeles and all.”

“Happy to help. Hey… Link… ” Rhett whispered but before he could say what he wanted to, Link began to lightly snore.

A few minutes later Link’s arm was around Rhett’s waist, as he slept with reckless abandon. Normally Rhett would gently reposition Link’s arm so they weren’t cuddling. Maybe it was all the bourbon, or the Christmas spirit, or just the fact that he’d finally admitted to himself how important to him Link was, but he left it there.

For so many years of bed sharing he’d always fought Link’s touch but there was a niceness to it. This was their first Christmas away from home, but here, with his grey haired best friend nuzzling into his chest, he knew home wasn’t North Carolina, or Los Angeles or anywhere in between. Link was his home.

He sighed and breathed in the unmistakably earthy, clean smell that defined Link,and the lingering smell of molasses and bourbon. It was almost more intoxicating than the alcohol. For the first time he let his arm wrap around Link’s back and pull him closer. He swore he could feel Link’s lips curled into a smile against his chest as Link sighed contently and snuggled deeper. Rhett smiled too as he drifted off to sleep with his best friend in his arms.

Rhett woke up with the sun streaming through the California shutters in Link’s bedroom. It took him a few to seconds to remember he was at Link’s and it was Link wrapped up in his arms, a leg casually thrown over his, Link’s grey hair a mess under Rhett’s chin. Rhett smiled and gave Link a gentle squeeze. Maybe if things had gone differently in high school or college, or maybe if they’d grown up somewhere other than rural North Carolina, this would be how he would wake up every day, with Link in his arms. But that would be another Rhett in another universe. He was just grateful for all the things he did have. To be able to spend all day with Link, to build a business and live their childhood dreams.

“Hey,” Link said softly. He looked up at Rhett, his eyes impossibly blue without his glasses. “Uh, sorry for all the cuddling… awkward,” Link said as he pulled his leg off Rhett’s.

“No worries,” Rhett said, his arms still wrapped around Link.

“Wanna go get breakfast at the diner? My treat for all your help?” Link asked.

“Sure, can… can we stay here a little while longer?” Rhett asked.

“Sure, brother,” Link said, his head rested on Rhett’s chest again. “Hey Rhett, it’s Christmas Eve! Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Link. Love you, brother,” he said as he gave Link a squeeze.

“Love you too, Rhett,” Link replied as his arm wrapped around his waist again, with a knowing squeeze. In a few hours the kids would come home, and Link would go to the airport to pick up Christy. There would be church and presents and Christmas excitement, but right now it was just Rhett and Link. They closed their eyes and both dozed off again, stealing one more hour together.

#mythical secret santa 2018 #type: fic #rating: T #submission #gift swap

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