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jovialtorchlight · 7 months ago

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THE WITCH--A ONE ACT PLAY by JONNY BOLDUC

The Witch

A play by Jonny BOLDUC

CHARACTERS:

JONNY: Male, 20-50

A young man. Troubled, disheveled.

WITCH: Female, 20-50

A mystical and enigmatic guide, similarly troubled.

JACOBY

Male, 10-18

A scared young boy.

GLEN:

Male, 20-50

The embodiment of evil.

CHARLIE:

Male, 40-70

A barfly who dies.

THERAPIST:

Any gender, 40-70

A kind professional.

SAWED MAN:

Any Gender. 20-70

A soul claimed by evil.

EMT/BYSTANDER

COP/ GUARD

BOUNCER/NURSE

JONNY:

Lights up on Jonny, centerstage. He is in a flannel shirt and has a pitchfork, dressed like he just he is in a barn. He addresses the audience directly. He is telling a story.

Three months. Doesn’t seem real. The days blur by like a roar. What did I do today, even? Well, I went out to the barn. Our barn. I found two dead, newborn goats in a corner. Black and brown, tiny, the size of puppies, twins. The mother looked at me like she always did; huge marble eyes dilated, sideways, like they were about to bulge out of her skull.

My farmhouse, a farmhouse that used to be ours, was down a small hill from the paddock, a half acre fenced off with a barn built at the crest of the hill. I could see it from the small wooden slat in the stall door. The baby goats were born in a bad way. It wasn’t their fault. It was November, and even with a heated blanket and the insulation of the hay, the cold air wrapped around them, their spirits slowly fading. Even in April, the normal birthing season, on the cusp of spring, it was normal to lose a few babies.

November seemed to take farm life with greed. Earlier in the month, a fisher cat had chewed through the wire of the coop and slaughtered 13 turkeys, leaving decapitated bodies piled up against the doors of the coop.

Half of life is keeping wolves from the door, I thought as I bent over to cradle the dead goats in my arms.

And the wolves are drawn to the scent of blood.

And there was no shortage of wolves, or blood. The whole farmed reeked of pain. At first, everything was coated in a thick film of memory. Even the pots and the pans, the coffee maker. The pang of “that was once ours.” The knowledge that she touched this mug, cupped it in her palms, let the steam rise into the chilly morning air, leaving the floating scent of coffee lifting through the house.

I snapped back to the dead goats in my arms, limp, limbs flapping around awkwardly, the mother staring at me.

It’s hard to figure out what a goat knows. Did she want a snack of grain? Most definitely. Did she miss her babies? Maybe. Sometimes, they seem like bleating animatronics, only interested in food, screaming, and breaking shit. Other times they stare at you, long tongues lopsided, eyes sideways, looking at something beyond you, understanding what exists beyond what’s here.

The Witch taught me how to feel that connection. That communion. Not the evil, biblical pentagram shit. But a link to something beyond. Once you know it’s present, you can feel it.

Animals are a vessel. And it’s not a dark energy they draw from, a dark message from an abyssal place. It’s just another place, another place we go when we’re done being here. Most of the time, it works out fine.

The witch also taught me that everything can be perverted, can take on a new form, a terrible form. Scene jumps to a parking lot, where the Witch, rubbing her hands together for warmth, is stranded outside of her car.

JONNY:

Hey there. Battery dead?

WITCH:

Startled.

Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you. Yeah, it is.

JONNY:

I have cables in the back.

WITCH:

Oh, you don’t need to--

JONNY:

No problem at all.

JONNY attaches the wires to the invisible car.

SFX: Car starting

WITCH:

Freezing.

Thank..you.

JONNY:

You got some snowflakes in your scalp.

WITCH:

What?

JONNY:

Akwardly.

I assume it’s not dandruff.

WITCH:

Uh…

JONNY:

I mean, uh, it would be ok if it was dandruff--

WITCH:

Laughing.

It’s not. Thank you. I’ve been waiting for almost an hour.

JONNY:

Not a problem. Get in your car before you freeze. See you around. WITCH exits. Lights dim on JONNY. I’d like to say that it was love at first sight, that I knew she was a witch, that I felt her presence and knew that she was going to gradually teach me that I was fundamentally wrong about the universe, about the way things worked, about life and love and joy and terror.

But as I drove out of the Walmart parking lot, the sky was just the sky, the cold was just cold, and the emptiness of a half lived life swam around me. Days, as they often do, turned into weeks. We kept circling each other. Sometimes I noticed her, sometimes she noticed me; at least three or four times a week. In gas stations, waiting rooms, checkout lines. It became a bit of a joke shared by two near strangers; we were always together, by complete accident.

It was a hot July day, and I was at the town beach, lying on a towel. I had been reading a book, but I closed it, and laid it on top of my eyes so the beating of the sun wouldn’t blind me.

Monlouge breaks. We are at a beach, several weeks later. JONNY sheds his shirt and pants to a layer of swimgear underneath. WITCH is sitting on a beach chair wearing dark sunglasses and a sunhat. JONNY lays down on a towel.

I could feel my skin tightening into a sunburn, so I sat up. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw her.

JONNY:

You again? Jonny smiles.

WITCH:

Yep. looks like it. Grins back.

JONNY:

I’m starting to think you’re following me.

WITCH:

Grin fades. Her tone is suddenly very, very dire.

I’m not. Are you following me?

JONNY:

“Uh...no. And look, I’m sorry if I spooked you. It was a half-baked joke. Starts to get up.

WITCH:

It’s okay. I didn’t think so. I just had to be sure. What’s your name?

JONNY:

Jonny. What’s yours?

WITCH:

Ignoring the question. She concentrates out into the audience, her voice falling into a sharp whisper. She points. That boy out by the floating dock is going to drown. Things are about to fall into place.

JONNY:

Back into narration.

Six or seven children were standing in the corner of the floating dock, trying to sink it. They did; and the other half of the dock rose into the air.

A boy who looked to be about ten was standing on a particularly pitched part of the float. As it rose sharply, he slipped, smashed his face off of the wood, and, before his friends could catch him, slipped off into the water.

Before I registered what I was doing, I was in the water, running, as fast as Icould; diving into the water, stroke after stroke, kids screaming, parents from the beach yelling.

Lights up on a boy, some distance from Jonny.

Rapid fire delivery. Frantic.

JACOBY:

He was swimming quickly, and he was at the dock, I gasped and I swallowed more water and he dived under and he opened his eyes

JONNY:

I couldn’t see anything, just a chain attached to the slimey underneath of the dock to the bottom of the lake; breath running out, I followed the chain to the rocky bottom;

JACOBY:

But I wasn’t there either. He looked back up, and saw me, face down, under the dock. He

JONNY:

Pushed from the bottom upwards, running out of breath. I grabbed the boy’s limp body, and dragged him out from under the dock with a final push before I inhaled a lung full of lakewater. I felt the fire hit my lungs, I pushed his body up above the surface of the water and some hands grabbed him and while I wheezed and coughed—

O.S VOICE:

OH GOD HE’S NOT BREATHING!

JONNY:

No, I thought, I just saved him, just grabbed him, I should have saved him, and I thrashed as I lost strength and before I lost consciousness I felt hands grab me and pull me—

People rush around JONNY, who stands still, slow motion in the middle of the chaos. Two EMTS lift Jacoby onto stretcher and hurry him offstage.

Everything should have been fine. EMTs were having lunch at the hotdog stand up the road; they heard the screaming and came on the scene while I was underwater. The boy was under the dock for just under a minute. The guy who jumped in right behind me was a lifeguard. The guy swimming behind him was a former Navy S.E.A.L.

On that hot July day, everything lined up. We should have been able to save that boy—I’d learn later, from his mother, that his name was Jacoby—and he should have been the one, blue lipped, shivering, on the back of the ambulance, having his vitals monitored, coughing up water.

While I was unconscious, I had a dream.

BLACKOUT. Lights come up. Three distinct spotlights, the rest of the stage as black as possible. JONNY, the WITCH with her beach-chair, and JACOBY each occupy a space onstage.

JACOBY:

Sobbing, stifling sniffling. Where’s my mom?

WITCH:

The spotlight follows her as she moves to JACOBY. She embraces him, and puts a hand on his head.

She’s not here now, but you can visit her later. Why don’t we go take a walk? There are some people up by the hot-dog stand who would love to see you, Jacoby.

JACOBY:

Oh...okay. JACOBY begins to move, but he suddenly whips around and stares at JONNY.

Terrified. Who is that? Out on the dock? Is he the bad? Is he going to--

JONNY:

No, no, buddy, I’m a friend, I tried to help you--

JACOBY:

He shouldn’t be here. JACOBY looks as if he is going to bolt.

WITCH:

Stern, like a mother. Jacoby, you need to turn toward me. Please. You don’t have to be afraid. He is a friend.

JACOBY:

JACOBY begins to writhe. Lights make it look like energy is bursting from his skin.

WITCH:

JACOBY!

JACOBY:

It’s so hot…all this light…I can’t…

Red. Everything is washed in red. JONNY begins to narrate.

JONNY:

Breathless.

I felt myself burn into him, felt my consciousness blend into his—for a moment--Add strobe effect—I had to stand—had to stop this— I felt my chest tighten as his eyes fixed on me and I felt the way his smashed face felt when it hit the dock and scraped against the wood and how his head pounded and he slipped and the way he tried to swim up before he lost consciousness and the way the water filled his lungs—I saw the writhing and the fear, the red open sore of the sky, the dark hue of the beach suddenly vast and endless, a void, drawing me and the boy in like a magnet, like we were being pulled; I had to stand up, do something—

BLACKOUT. In the blackout, which lasts a second or two, JONNY moves next to JACOBY and the WITCH.

WITCH:

Thank you, Jacoby. Thank you for trusting us. Now, I need you to get out of the water, Jacoby.

JACOBY:

I don’t know if I can. Subtle hints that he is escalating; perhaps a strobe flashing once.

WITCH:

You can. You can, Jacoby.

JACOBY:

Turns to JONNY.

I’ll do it if he jumps in.

WITCH:

Addressing JONNY. Friend. You don’t have to jump.

JACOBY:

Petulant. Yes he does! I won’t do it if he doesn’t!

JONNY:

Narrating. I looked down at the water. It was black, oily, bubbling. I glanced back at Jacoby. I didn’t know what was going to happen to him if I didn’t jump. But the fear in my chest told me he would be lost, swallowed up by whatever this oily water was.

Breaking back.

Alright. On the count of three.

BOTH:

One.

Two.

Three.

JONNY jumps. BLACKOUT.

SCENE 2

JONNY:

Laying down on a stretcher stage center, with an EMT leaning over him... Lights dim on JONNY and an EMT.

JONNY coughs.

Where is he? Where’s Jacoby?

EMT:

Woah, take it easy. Who’s Jacoby?

JONNY:

Speaking hurts. The kid. Underwater. Jacoby.

Silence. After a pause.

EMT:

His parents said they didn’t know you. How do you know his name?

JONNY:

A bad liar. Somebody yelled it. How long was I unconscious?

EMT:

Three minutes. No matter what happened to Jacoby, it wasn’t your fault. You tried to save him.

JONNY STANDS. EMT’s exit, wheeling the stretcher off. The BEACH scene is over, and JONNY is narrating.

JONNY:

For a while, I convinced myself that the the dream was my mind responding to the influx of trauma and the lack of oxygen and the exhaustion. A few days passed. Jacoby’s family called me a few times, told me it wasn’t my fault, that I was a hero for trying to save him. They asked me to come to his funeral. I couldn’t. I could barely leave my apartment. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Jacoby. Or the black, oily water.

And in my dreams, I was standing on the edge of the dock, staring at the bubbling void and Jacoby's blue bloated bloody face rose up from the depths and he was sobbing, asking me why I didn’t swim faster, why I couldn’t save him.

When I drank, I fell asleep and I didn’t have dreams. So I took to drinking.

Hard. We are now in the interior of a car. There is an open bottle of whiskey barely concealed underneath a coat in the drivers seat. JONNY is driving. He mimes falling asleep. SOUND FX: CRASH. JONNY stumbles out of his car; from the opposite side of the stage, the Witch stumbles out of hers. A small crowd forms around.

JONNY:

Drunkenly. Anyone have any---uh, Listerine? Or Tik Tacks?

JONNY and the WITCH notice eachother.

WITCH:

It’s…you.

JONNY:

Sure is. Your eyes are bloodshot as fuck. Also, you smell like…a…whiskey…factory. I do too. Damn it. Tell me, when I jumped, did Jacob…

WITCH:

He made it.

A bystander approaches.

BYSTANDER:

Are you both…drunk?

JONNY:

Then why am I…

WITCH:

Having the dreams? You jumped in.

Blue lights flash.

JONNY:

I had to. I had to jump.

WITCH:

Smiling. Once we sober up and post bail, we have to talk.

COPS ENTER.

JONNY:

The Witch was right. We both got arrested. My coat fell off the bottle during the force of the crash. I glanced at it. It was almost empty. I did a quick calculation; I had been drinking heavy for six months. I didn’t even notice when the bottle was gone. The bottle was the first thing the cop saw. I saw him put on some gloves and grab it. Another cop car rolled in.

COP:

Not really a question. You been drinking, sir?

JONNY:

Addressing audience. I shouldn’t have said anything. Should have waited for my lawyer. But I just wanted to get it over with.

Addressing COP.

Yes.

COP: To the Witch.

And you, miss?

WITCH:

Yes.

COP:

Do you two know eachother?

BOTH:

No.

JONNY:

That was the first lie we told. Addressing the audience as he he is cuffed and led away by the COP.

We both blew the same blood alcohol level. Way over. Both JONNY and the WITCH are sitting in the back of a cop car. We decided, subconsciously, that the back of a copcar wasn’t a good place to talk.

It is silent, cut by bursts of SXF: Radio chatter. JONNY leads his head back, and closes his eyes. The WITCH is asleep as well.

For the first time in six months, when I closed my eyes, I didn’t see Jacoby. I saw her face. I understood her. I knew she was as tired as I was. She had the same dreams of Jacoby dying. When we got to the jail, we were separated. I spent a night in County, sobered up, and posted bail. First time. No convictions. Not even a speeding ticket. $500, only bail condition not to drink.

I knew I’d probably be back behind bars. I already knew I needed a drink. I should have called a lawyer first thing. Called my parents to tell them I’d got into trouble and probably lost my job and needed help and I was so sorry— But I didn’t . The first thing I did—and I mean the first thing—was to try and find the Witch.

COP is now a GUARD who is handing JONNY his belongings.

JONNY:

The woman I was brought in with--do you know if she’s been released?

GUARD:

Fuck off. Get out of here. Here’s your stuff. One uncharged phone, a lighter, and a wallet with 14 dollars in cash.

JONNY:

JONNY leaves, and sits at a table, drinking a coffee. There was a Cafe down the street. I got a coffee, and sat. The morning’s paper was on the stand. We were sure to be in there. Sure enough, I flipped to the local section of the paper, greeted by my mugshot, and hers. Headline read, “two arrested after drunk drivers slam into each other.”

But I had something important. Her name. I never told her that I learned her name from her mugshot. I left my coffee on the table, and left the cafe without paying for the paper.

As JONNY leaps up from the table, he walks, and delivers these lines to the the audience. As he does, a basic apartment with a chair is set behind him.

It was a two hour walk back to my apartment, but I made it. I charged my phone. About 100 voicemails and missed calls, from my mom, my dad, my sister. My work. I was fired.

SOUND SXF: Phone ringing. Witch appears with a phone on the other side of the stage.

WITCH:

Hey, I found your number in the phone book...I found your address, too. I’m coming over.

JONNY:

What?

WITCH:

Bursts through the door. Looks around. Her tone is playful.

Wow, this place is a shithole. All carpeted, right? Even the bathroom?

JONNY:

Yeah, how did you--

WITCH:

Been here before. Your closet is full of booze bottles and pizza bozes towering like a pyramid. You’re not going to get your damage deposit back, and you’re fine with that. The “living” room is a futon pad on the floor with a TV and a Playstation hooked up, and your bedroom is a mattress on the floor. You use an oversized flannel as a blanket.

JONNY:

Uh. Yeah. How--

WITCH:

You still hungover?

JONNY:

Yeah.

WITCH:

Well, clear the pizza box off that chair and we can talk.

JONNY:

Hastily moves a pizza box.

I’m sorry my apartment is such a mess.

WITCH:

I was just giving you shit. Mine is just as bad.

JONNY:

Sits across from the Witch. They are silent, but not uncomfortably.

I don’t know about you, but I’m so goddamn tired.

WITCH:

Me too. But it feels like we’re both back from the brink of whatever the hell had happened to us. Like we’re finally sitting down, gasping for breath, not drowning, happy to be safe.

JONNY:

Or at least pretending to be safe.

WITCH:

Right.

JONNY:

So…what happened on the beach?

The Witch puts her head in her hands, slumps down. She looks up.

WITCH:

It’s hard to explain. It’s no so much a ‘what was that,’ as a ‘where were we?” type question.

JONNY:

Jacoby…was dead, right?

WITCH nods.

Were we dead too? Did I die-

WITCH:

Snapping. No. No, we weren’t dead. Jacoby died, we survived.

JONNY:

I’m sorry. I just thought:

WITCH:

I’m sorry. Jonny. I’ve been...going to that place...for a long, long time. As long as I can remember. And I’ve never had anyone else come with me. Usually, it’s easy. I offer a hand, tell them everything is going to be fine, and we walk. Sometimes, things get fucked up. The...bad thing comes.

JONNY sits in stunned silence. The WITCH gets up, goes to a fridge, and grabs a beer. She treats the kitchen as if it’s her own, as if she knows where everything is.

Usually, when things get as bad as they did with Jacoby, I can’t save them. I...I try the best I can. But you...you saved him. You jumped in the water. I’ve never seen anyone do that before.

JONNY:

Sorry, what? What did I do? How did I save him?

WITCH:

He wasn’t going to go. He was going to get claimed by that...black shit, the oil. You helped him go beyond. I want to see if you can do it again. But I need you to promise me something.

JONNY:

Gazes at her.

Anything.

WITCH:

You have to trust me. Please trust me. JONNY nods. The WITCH smiles, downs the entire beer in three gulps, and bounds out the door.

JONNY:

As he follows, he breaks, and addresses the audience. I would have followed her anywhere.

SCENE 3

Lights up outside a dive bar called the “Blue Goose.” JONNY and WITCH are standing.

WITCH:

This is my favorite place. Shoulder to shoulder, shoes stick to the floor if you stand in one place for too long.

JONNY:

Are we going inside?

WITCH:

No. Someone is going to come out of that bar. They’re going to trip on the sidewalk, and when they fall, they’re going to get hit by a car.

JONNY:

What? We have to stop it--

WITCH:

I’ve tried. So many times. But we can’t. When it happens, let me do the talking, please.

CHARLIE stumbles from out of the bar. CHARLIE is in his late ‘60s. A BOUNCER trails behind him.

BOUNCER:

Go sleep it off, Charlie.

CHARLIE wobbles, tries to catch himself, and falls over, onto the road. SXF of screeching tires. Bouncer screams.

JONNY:

A car raced over Charlie’s body with a thud, limbs caught in the wheels, bones snapping off like twigs. Parts of the man spilled out onto the road, crushed open like a smashed jack-o-lantern. Then, everything shifted.

A striking shift in lighting. Stage is black again. A spotlight lights JONNY and the WITCH, and a separate beam illuminates CHARLIE.

CHARLIE:

Looking down at his hands. What happened? How am I sober?

WITCH:

I’m sorry, Charlie.

CHARLIE:

Who are you? Points at JONNY. Who is he?

WITCH:

Friends. We’re here to help you, Charlie. There’s a few people waiting for you around the corner.

CHARLIE:

Who?

WITCH:

Nancy.

CHARLIE crumbles to the ground, sobbing. A light pulsates for a second, the same pulsation that happened with JACOBY.

WITCH:

I know. You miss her. She’d love to see you, Charlie. But we have to go. We can’t stay here.

CHARLIE:

Why?

WITCH:

“Because it’s not safe.”

CHARLIE:

Okay.

He rises. As he rises, a sickly green lights up the stage. SXF of a screech tires. CHARLIE convulses, tendrils of sick light and smoke burst out of him. The scene is sickly green chaos.

JONNY leaps in front of Charlie, and pull him in close, as if to protect him. SXF of a car whizzing by.

To JONNY.

You saved me.

JONNY:

We need to go. Before it comes back.

They walk offstage, the WITCH holding JONNY’s hand. JONNY comes back onstage, addressing the audience.

She slept over on the couch that night. With her there, even in the other room, I could sleep soundly. In the morning, I took her to get some coffee.

WITCH comes onstage and they both sit at a table.

To the WITCH. So, where do you live?

WITCH:

Presses her mug tightly into her palm. Nowhere. I got kicked out of my apartment after I was arrested.

JONNY:

TO audience. I knew it was crazy, inviting someone I had just rear ended in a drunken bender to live with me. But I felt like I knew her. Like we had already met, that some deep part of me had studied her before, like she had spoken to me and I had listened.

To WITCH. Do you want to move in?

WITCH:

Smiling. Sure. The WITCH addresses the audience.

WITCH:

Jonny moved in with me. We cleaned the place up. We went to court, lost our licenses for six months, and I managed to get a job at a Subway around the corner. His parents helped us out with rent until Jonny got a job at a newspaper. We managed to be happy. JONNY learned how to help people die. He learned how to exit death if things were getting bad, how to sense if the bad thing was coming.

The first time we kissed, it was a few days before Christmas. We had been semi-platonic up until that point. We were watching the Grinch. Not the Jim Carrey one, the old school cartoon. I found it romantic, I guess. I leaned into him.

Our first kiss was on the pullout couch I slept on, and after that, I slept in the bedroom with him. The next morning, I got up before him and made eggs. She came into the kitchen, got a running start, and jumped on my back. I spun around, shifting her, and kissed him again. I grabbed his hand. And for a year and a half, we never let go. We were happy. Together.

And we kept going to the other place. We kept saving people, walking with them. Someone would die. We would be there. We would help them along.

One night, I went to work. And Jonny fell asleep on the couch. WITCH exits.

JONNY:

A dream. Jacoby wasn’t there. I knew something was wrong. The dead can come in dreams, and they often do, and when the Witch and I would talk to each other about visits, it was almost like we were talking about old friends. Alvin was doing fine. Jen had managed to move on. Curtis was getting there. Mike was a piece of shit, but he was slowly learning how to not be an asshole. The dreams followed a format. But Jacoby never showed up. He wasn’t ok.

Lights up, mirroring the beach scene, JACOBY standing on the dock.

JACOBY:

Robotic. I’m going to sink it. I’m going to sink it. I’m going to loose my balance. I’m going to fall in. I’m going to drown, bloated, blue--

JONNY:

NO!

JACOBY:

You have to jump in. You have to save me. You couldn’t. I was under the dock, drowning, and you couldn’t save me. Step in. Save me.

JONNY:

JONNY steps out of his spotlight. He yelps in pain. It is like stepping into hot coals.

WITCH:

O.S

Jonny. Don’t. Please. You can’t save him.

JONNY:

You said he was okay. He’s not okay.

WITCH:

VOICE quivering. Please, turn around. You can’t do this.

JONNY:

Dives into the oil.

WITCH:

Screaming. JONNY!

JONNY, in the black, makes terrible noises as if he is choking. WITCH exits. Lights flood black on. JONNY is gasping, hands to his neck, emerging from the dream.

JONNY:

I need a fucking drink. JONNY goes to the pantry and grabs a bottle of whiskey. He grabs a shot glass, but sets it down, and insteads opts for a pint glass, filling it, and chugging it. He does the same, again. He is now addressing the audience.

I felt heavy, like the gunk had latched onto my soul. I was back in the days after Jacoby died, back to thinking that if I drank I could get rid of the stain of not being able to save him. But this was different. This time, I couldn’t save Jacoby’s soul. Reality snarled at me, bit me in the face. I was a drunk. I had a criminal record. I was broke, in way over my head. And who was she, this woman I was obsessing over, the woman who I called the witch? I had the distinct feeling that I was being drawn into something that I couldn’t quite understand. I was fucking with people’s souls. Something deeper than myself, something far, far more important than me.

I didn’t want to be drawn into anything. All I wanted to do was drink myself to death. The stakes were incredible, and I knew that I was utterly unable to deal with whatever the hell happened again if it happened again.

JONNY goes to the fridge and takes a bottle of chilled rum. He puts it in a paper bag.

I left my apartment with the intention of finally fucking dying.

EXIT. END SCENE.

SCENE 4

Dark streets of Lewiston, Maine, between three and four in the morning. JONNY is stumbling, wandering. A lost soul. The WITCH speaks from offstage.

WITCH:

Lewiston, Maine is an old factory town, mills empty; a town rooted in the whirling mechanics of the past, where the fog stopped rolling and the factories shut down. A bridge connects Lewiston and Auburn. Jonny had been blacked out, and subsequently, came too on the bridge.

The jump might not have killed him, but the river, in the winter, was fierce, overflowing; rapid. If he jumped, it could be over. And I guess that’s what he wanted. He wanted whatever happened to him, whateverhe almost did to Jacoby, to never happen again.

JONNY reaches a guardrail. He lifts a leg over it. The Witch appears on the other side of the stage.

Turn around.

Blue lights flash.

JONNY:

It has to be now.

WITCH:

Jonny, turn around.

Jonny stumbles, passes out beside the guardrail. He’s safe.

JONNY:

They pumped my stomach and they stabilized me. While I slept, I was back at the beach, this time, on the shore. I looked down at myself, and I was coated with tarry oil; I couldn’t breathe, my lips were sealed shut by the glob, sticking to my skin, and I failed, trying to gasp, mouth sealed shut; and I couldn’t see through the oil that had solidified on my eyes, I was buried alive, standing up, and I was flailing, and I was going to die—

I felt myself scrubbed away. I felt the tar removed, but by bit, first from the mouth, so I could breathe, the eyes, so I could see, and finally, I stood whole and clean.

Someone was scrubbing my back. I turned around. It was the Witch.

WITCH:

Furious. Why didn’t you turn around? You promised you would trust me.

JONNY:

I..I couldn’t. Whatever happened to Jacoby was my fault. I shouldn’t have been there…

WITCH:

Look at me. It’s not your fault. But you have to listen to me. Please. I only have so much to give, and tonight, you took most of it. When you see me, I’m going to be weak. I’m not going to be myself. But still, for the love of everything, you have to trust me.

JONNY:

I...I always trust…

WITCH:

No. Angry again. If you trusted me, you would have turned around. Whatever that thing was on the dock, it wasn’t Jacoby. It wanted you to dive in, and you fell right into it.

JONNY:

I’m sorry…

WITCH:

Anger dies. Sadness rises. I don’t forgive you, not yet. I… I...can’t carry this weight on my own. Anyone can be ruined, Jonny. I love you. You can’t be the one who ruins me.

JONNY:

To the audience. I woke up in a hospital bed, surrounded by family, with an incredible guilt. And not because I had just tried to kill myself. But because I had hurt the one who had tried to save me. The one who wanted me to be ok. I could almost feel the Witch, almost feel how that oil had set into her, how I put that heavy stone on her chest. I spent a day in bed at the hospital. They put me on some sedatives. The next day, they sent me to a psychward.

NURSE enters. She is giving JONNY a tour of the ward. JONNY is shuffling behind.

NURSE:

This is the nurses’ stations. Line up for evening meds after dinner. Here are the showers…

The WITCH, looking incredibly awful--hair in a ragged mess, wearing dirty sweatpants--sits in a chair. The NURSE and JONNY pass by. JONNY almost walks by, but sees the WITCH. He stares at her. She doesn’t recognize him. The NURSE keeps walking, unaware that JONNY has paused.

We have group at noon, three, and six…

JONNY:

. To audience. It looked like she hadn’t washed for days. Her long hair was filthy, ends frayed, and she stared off into the distance. She looked at me, but her eyes danced off somewhere else. And, for a moment, they went black, like someone had dipped her irises in oil.

NURSE:

Hey! You can’t be in there! Jonathan!

JONNY moves stage center. WITCH and the NURSE leave.

JONNY:

The nurses wouldn’t let me in her room. I couldn’t talk to her. I spent a lot of my time sleeping, trying to reach out to the witch, trying to meet her again. But I didn’t know how. There had to be a ritual, some way to get to that place, the beach, the inbetween, as she called it. But every time we went to that place, she touched me. Her touch was the gateway. And I couldn’t get near her. She spent most of her time locked in her room. Days turned into weeks. I kept sleeping. The ward was a secure floor, the rooms consisting of two beds, a desk, and a locker. My roommate was named Joe. For the first few weeks, he was detoxing, so he was in bed almost as much as I was.

When it was meal time, we gathered in the hallway, where we all lined up while the food cart rolled in and we were served, one by one. Most everyone in the ward were detoxing, or alcoholics, or had OD’d, and it wasn’t like insane people in straightjackets. Everyone was quiet.

Scene shifts to the ward cafeteria.

We got our food and went into the kitchen, where they had us sign out forks and knives so no one could try to kill themselves in the bathroom. There wasn’t much talking. We were all hungover, scared, or in withdrawal. Until the stranger came in.

JONNY is sitting, eating. A LINE of 2-3 people has formed, and an ORDERLY is handing out food. A wild, greasy, unkempt man with hair long to his back, a pencil-thin mustache and long fingernails shuffles on with his mouth half open, in a complete daze. He walks right into the back of a woman waiting in line. She turns around, starts to say the word “sorry,” and he swings on her, screaming--

GLEN:

Don’t FUCKING TOUCH ME YOU FUCKING CUNT!

The caferia erupts. NURSES grab GLEN, and one takes the woman, who is bleeding from the face offstage. They drag GLEN offstage, leaving the stage bare, except for JONNY.

JONNY:

He was carted off to the isolation room and sedated. Dinner was normal. I went to bed. I woke up in the morning to screaming coming from the TV room.. MAN screams. JONNY dashes to the TV room. The asshole from yesterday’s breakfast barracaded himself inside by sticking a chair underneath the handle so it couldn’t open from the outside. The nurses were banging at the door and the patients were lining the hallway; the door to the ward flung open and five security guards poured in and pushed us back away from the door to the room.

LIGHTS transform. Stage is black, spare a spotlight on GLEN, who is holding a butterknife to a man’s throat and sawing at it. The man is thrashing, trying to get GLENN OFF, but GLEN has him in a hold. A spotlight pops up on JONNY, who is just to the left of them.

JONNY: It’s over. He’s dead. Put the knife down.

GLEN:

Yellowed teeth in a wide grin.

It’s not over! It’s not over, we’re just getting warmed up, you fucking idiot! I already got his fucking soul! I cracked his bones and I splattered his blood on the white wall and he’s mine! Just like Jacoby!

JONNY:

Launches himself at Glen, but as he does, it is like an explosion catapults him backwards. The man with the sawed throat begins to cough, hacking. If possible, he hacks up black liquid.

GLEN:

This ain’t what you’re used to, bucko. Usually, that bitch you call a witch makes everything ok, right? Polly Anne takes them around the corner into forever peace. Well, I’m a greedy bastard. I want you, boy. I want everyone. And God damn am I going to take you.

Sawed throat man convulses. LIGHTS pulsate. GLEN hovers over him. The sawed man is screaming in pain. On the other side of the stage, in the black, the WITCH has come out with a chair, and is sitting, comatose. JONNY breaks as if he is going to tackle GLEN, but runs straight past, to the WITCH.

GLEN:

YOU FUCKING COWARD!

BLACKOUT on GLEN. Spotlight up on the Witch. Using black paper mache, she looks like a burned corpse. She is breathing laborously. JONNY is panting.

Where'd ya go? Where’d ya go? To save your fucking whore of a girlfriend? I fucked her already. I’m gunna fuck ya both! Gunna rip you apart! Gunna make you watch her.

JONNY pulls the same move GLENN did and uses a chair to prop the door closed. He hastily begins to peel layer after layer of the void off of the WITCH.

Inch by inch, the WITCH is revealed. Her mouth is uncovered. She gasps. Her eyes are uncovered. She blinks.

JONNY:

I will never let anything like this happen again, I swear to you. GLEN breaks through, into the room. JONNY squares off with him. With whatever special effects your theater can muster, GLEN unhinges his jaw, a monster with innumerable teeth, skin dancing up like an oil flame. This is his dreadful form. JONNY holds the WITCH in his arms as GLEN hovers over them. The WITCH feebly raises her arms. GLEN freezes. JONNY and the WITCH scurry OFFSTAGE.

END SCENE.

SCENE 5.

A therapist’s office. JONNY is still clad in hospital robes, and is speaking with a therapist.

THERAPIST:

I’m proud of you. You’ve been doing the work.

JONNY:

Thanks.

THERAPIST:

Are the meds working?

JONNY:

Yeah.

THERAPIST:

Do you think you’re ready to leave?

JONNY:

I think so.

THERAPIST:

What’s your support system at home? What’s your discharge plan?

JONNY:

I’m going home to live with my parents. I’ll get a job at the corner store near my house. My parent’s insurance covers therapy.

THERAPIST:

Great.

THERAPIST gets up and leaves. JONNY addresses the audience.

JONNY:

I recovered, I guess. Or I played along enough to get discharged. After Glen was arrested and sent to a max-security ward upstate, I decided to just complete the therapeutic coloring pages and say what I thought they wanted to hear. The witch kept a distance. When she did look at me, she glanced at me, like she was ashamed, like she was the one who had fucked up royally. I knew she needed to be apart, I knew she needed to recover. So I left the ward withough saying goodbye.

A day later, I was in a minivan, my silent dad driving, my mom in the passenger's seat, smiling faintly. It was raining.

MOM:

O.S

It’s good to have you home.

JONNY:

And, for a while at least, it was good to be home. The Witch gnawed at me, though. I missed her.

Sometimes, when I rose at night, alone, I’d think she was there, trick myself into thinking I saw her shadow move in the hallways. I’d say something out loud to her and expect her to respond. I’d look in the passenger’s seat and realize that she wasn’t sitting next to me and I’d slam my fists on the dash. I’d scream and pull over. Then, the dreams started.

SAWED MAN enters with a TV remote. His throat is raw.

SAWED MAN:

I was watching Love It or List It. I never even saw him coming. To JONNY. You know he stole my soul, right?

JONNY:

I’m sorry.

SAWED MAN:

“No. Don’t. You don’t get to say you’re sorry. You could have tried. SXF: Bone cracking and breaking.

Slowly, like an owl, his head twists towards JONNY, but his neck unmoving. Black oil pours from his eyes.

JONNY:

This went on for a few months. The terrible nightmares, waking up in a cold sweat, continuing on with my cookie-cutter day like everything was fine. I got promoted, saved up enough money to move out again. I started looking for the dying. I needed to help. The Witch taught me some rituals. To find a death, the mind had to be clear, and the guide, the map, was a copper pendulum, kept in a pocket, as close to the core of the body heat as possible, smudged with oils, used to ask what poor soul would soon need help leaving the earth. JONNY lights incense, and places his forearm on a table, using the pendulum. In my mind came the location, a farm, and the time, 3 p.m., and the name. When the name came, the world crashed. Her name. The witch was going to die.

I tried her old cell phone. It was disconnected. I ran outside, to the car, and fled as fast as I could, to the farm, out in the country, about 40 minutes away.

The ritual was never wrong. The ritual was never wrong, but how could the Witch die? I had left her to protect her, to keep her from the slog of me, that followed me wherever I went. It was noon. She had three hours left on earth.

Fast, pushing 80. Made the 45 minute trip in 30; everything seemed like it was blurred down into moments, each second seemed like something vital was being chipped away. One of her first lessons she taught me after Jacoby was that you couldn't change death. It came. If the bell was rung, if the process began, it could not be stopped without a life slipping from earth.

I pulled into her driveway, skidded to a halt, kicking up dust from the gravel. I flung the car door open, kicked open her slanted gate and ran up the path, towards the white farmhouse.

She was waiting for me on the screened-in porch.

WITCH:

Hi.

JONNY:

Frantic. Oh my God are you--do you know--

WITCH:

Yes. I am going to die.

JONNY starts to shake, and the WITCH embraces him. They melt into eachother. She leads him to a blanket, where they lay together.

WITCH:

I felt his pain melt away. We lay together in the dimly lit living room, candles flickering. I traced my fingers across his face, memorizing it. I pushed back his hair, studying him. He did the same. Death isn't so bad. The hardest part is the forgetting, the forgetting of the voice, of the features of the face, the way the eyes dance and the way the skin reflects in the sun; the way the numbing of the days passed leaves the leftover, the one on earth with just an abstract thought of the tangible, living person. I knew that. I’ve lived a long time, and I’ve seen a lot of bright lights go dark.

I got up.

BOTH stand, and walk together.

I could tell that he was afraid to follow. But he did. I led him outside, through my yard cluttered with scraps of wood and a rusted out grill. He followed me onto the farm, and followed me to the back paddock, where my goats stood on the slight incline leading up to the barn, bleating loudly at us.

To JONNY.

Close your eyes.

He does.

SXF: a gunshot. The WITCH collapses. Shallow breathing, gurgling, breath forced like her lungs are full of pebbles; lying in a pool of blood.

The lights change to a spotlight on the WITCH, and a spotlight on JONNY.

WITCH:

Come. JONNY hesitates. I'm ready. But I don't think you're ready to walk with me.

JONNY:

How can I ever be ready? Falls to his knees. How can I say goodbye? There’s no way to do it. No way to say goodbye. I’ll always wanting one more; one more touch, one more glimpse into your face, one more conversation. There is no light enough to fill the void.

WITCH:

The terror isn't here. We don't have to worry about it. I prepared this for you. It's beautiful, isn't it?

Lighting resembles a orange twilight sunset, jutting out from behind purple clouds in brillant, paint brush strokes.

A cool breeze, refreshing, like a thunderstorm rolling in from the corner of the sky. Peace.

JONNY:

Thank you. It's wonderful.

WITCH:

"I've lived for about a thousand years, Jonny. I've had many lives with many different people. I've loved many. I love you. But we all have to take the long walk. You know that. And there are still many people left in the world that you can help, but you need to promise me something.

JONNY:

Of course.

WITCH:

Promise me that you will help. For as long as you live.

JONNY nods. He takes her hand, and they walk.

I nodded. I took her hand. We walked.

END

#jonny bolduc #play #playwriting

4 notes · View notes

writeforfandoms · 3 years ago

Note

For your 100 follower requests: "More please" first kiss scenario with Tovar or Whiskey. WRITER'S CHOICE.

Alright this turned into something way bigger than I had planned. This sits at 2.7k. Don't ask me where the actual idea came from, I have no idea.

Also, I want you to know, I wrote the ENTIRE SCENE with the goats and then went "...I should make sure she likes goats."

Jack Daniels x f!reader. Meet cute at a county fair. No warnings, this is all cute fluff with kissing.

Without further ado, I present to you:

She Moves Through the Fair

You were standing off to the side of the crowds, by the animal housing. Your friend was 20 minutes late so far, which wasn’t like her. You’d texted her ten minutes ago to check in.

Finally, your phone buzzed.

Hey so sorry I forgot we were supposed to go today I can’t make it

You groaned out loud at that. Great. So now you were on your own at the county fair. You’d already paid the entrance fee, so you might as well stay now. This was not how you’d expected your day to go.

“Everything alright?”

You jumped, turning towards the voice. A man had come up behind you, hands stuck in the pockets of his jeans. He was wearing a black Stetson. Your lips twitched against your will.

“I’m fine,” you told him. “Just a change of plans, is all.”

“You need any help?” The man offered you a little smile, brown eyes warm.

“No, thank you. I think I’m going to go pet some goats and… figure something out.” You shrugged.

His eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Figure something out? Are you here alone?”

“Yes,” you answered reluctantly.

“Well, I’d say I’m sorry, but this means I get a chance to escort a pretty lady today.” He smiled at you. “My own company found someone else to run around with, so I seem to be unattached for the day.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. He didn’t flinch, just waiting patiently. Well, he was handsome, that was for sure. Seemed to have manners. And if needed, you could definitely get away from him – this was a county fair, not a private event. There was security around. And if you kicked up a fuss, you’d get bystander support.

“Sure,” you agreed. “Why not. You might get bored, though.”

“I’ll be bored on my own, so if that happens, at least I’ll be bored in lovely company.” He winked at you, almost over the top, and smiled when you giggled. “I’m Jack, by the way.”

You gave him your name and shook his hand, amused.

“I believe you said something about goats?” Jack grinned at you, motioning you to go first. You nodded and headed for the nearest animal housing area, perking up a bit. Sheep over here. That was fine. You patted every sheep that came up to the fence, saying hi to each one. Jack kept pace with you and, to your surprise, he also chatted easily with the sheep. Mostly he snuck sly little comments about the “beautiful lady” he was with, making you grin every time.

“You’re quite a flirt,” you told him once the two of you finally reached the goats. “I think these guys will appreciate it more than the sheep, though.”

Jack threw his head back and laughed at that, bright and full-bellied. “You think so, huh?”

“Well, the goats are more active, usually,” you pointed out, as one headbutted your hand for attention. “Although if I were you I’d save the sweet talking for the pygmy goats, those things are too damn cute.”

“Favorites of yours, I take it?” Jack asked, leaning down a bit to pet a lazy goat who bleated at him without actually getting up.

“If I could, I would have like three of those,” you told him. “They’re so cute. And they’re a more manageable size than regular goats.”

“Looks like there’s some pygmies up there,” Jack pointed out, nodding to the end of the row.

“Don’t rush me, I’m getting there,” you shot back playfully. Jack just chuckled at you. “So, what brought you here today? You said you got ditched?”

“Promised a friend I’d come,” Jack told you with an easy shrug. “He wanted some help picking something out. ‘Course, soon as we’d done that, he got a call from another buddy of his and abandoned me to meet up with that group.” He shot you a flirty smile. “My gain, though.”

You chuckled. “Well, I dunno about that,” you murmured.

“I do.”

You felt your cheeks heat with blood and you ducked your head, momentarily flustered by his outright flirting. Then you smiled. “Well, we’ve got the rest of the day,” you pointed out. “I have no plans.”

“No?” Jack smiled. “Let’s see if I can’t change that.” He stepped around you, getting ahead of you, and winked before he sauntered off to the end of the row to the pygmy goats. He started chatting with an older gentleman on the other side of the fence, nodding back your direction once. You kept half your attention on him, curious what he was doing. But not quite curious enough to go butt in on the conversation. Instead you kept going down the row, petting goats.

At least until Jack trotted back over to you, looking smug as the cat that ate the canary. “Come on,” he told you, holding out a hand to you.

“What?”

“Come on!” Jack smiled, beckoning you again. You took his hand, and he promptly tugged you along over to the pygmy goats. The gentleman behind the fence opened up a section of fencing for you, ushering you both inside, and then efficiently herded you both into the pen with the pygmy goats.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, eyes huge. There were five goats and three kids. The kids were teeny tiny, and promptly ran over to investigate the two of you.

“Sit,” Jack encouraged you. “They’ll nibble a bit, so watch your stuff.” He gently pushed one kid away from nibbling on the hem of his jeans.

You sat, eyes still huge, and let the kids and the mamas sniff you and climb on you. They were adorable and friendly, and you were having a blast. Definitely needed to get like three of these little guys. Someday.

“How did you…?” You finally asked Jack several minutes later, after the kids had worn themselves out a bit. One of them had fallen asleep with its head on your foot, and you were loathe to move.

“Just had a friendly chat,” Jack told you, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“You’re incredible,” you told him with a blinding smile. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

Jack’s smile turned a little softer, almost shy. “Well, why not?” he countered. “You got stood up, looks like, might as well make the best of your day now.”

You had no words for that, so you just smiled helplessly at him and scratched one of the mama goats when she wandered over to you.

You could have happily stayed there all day, but you did eventually get up. Mostly because your stomach was rumbling, and Jack insisted the two of you eat. So you got up, said goodbye to the goats (and thanked the owner), and made your way outside to a hand washing station.

“Bright,” you grumbled as soon as you were outside, squinting. “It was not this bright earlier.”

“You didn’t bring a hat?” Jack asked, tutting at you.

“Forgot it,” you admitted. You looked at him, reached up, and stole his hat, plonking it on your head with a cheeky grin. “This’ll work.”

Jack’s jaw dropped for a moment, and then he swallowed hard, looking you up and down. “Looks good on you,” he croaked.

“Thanks.” You flashed him a grin and reached out for his hand. “Food’s this way, come on.” He followed behind you easily, letting you lead the way.

The food area was, as usual, crowded and large. There were at least a dozen different vendors, all with different types of food, everything from pizza and hot dogs to turkey legs to gyros.

“What are you in the mood for?” you asked Jack, stepping out of the way and scanning the different offerings. “And if you say anything with fried dough before lunch, I’m walking away.”

Jack laughed at that, slinging an easy arm around your shoulders. You didn’t flinch at the touch, a little surprised at yourself. “Nah, I’m pretty easy to please. I usually go for a hot dog, or a sausage to start.” He winked at you, and you choked and spluttered for a moment.

“Go, I’ll meet you at a table,” you told him, waving him on. He hesitated for only a moment before he nodded, releasing you and striding off to get in line. You took a few moments to admire the view as he walked away. Mmm. Those jeans did great things for him from this angle. (From any angle, really, if you were being honest with yourself.)

You did tear your gaze away from him so you could trot off to get in line for your own food. Fortunately, things went quickly, and by the time you had your food and turned to look for Jack, he was flagging you down from an empty table. A smile stretched your lips – he was squinting at you. You still had his hat on. Your heart fluttered, just a little.

“You can have it back, if you want,” you told him, touching two fingers to the brim of his hat as you sat down next to him.

Jack smiled, slow and sweet as molasses. “Nah,” he said. “Looks good on you. Keep it.”

You returned the smile, and the two of you settled in to eat lunch. You finally learned a bit more about him – he worked at a distillery. Not one you’d heard of, though you absolutely did not claim to be a connoisseur of whiskey. In return, you told him a bit about your own job, and the friend who’d cancelled on you today.

“We come once a year,” you told him as the two of you cleaned up. “Well. She sometimes comes more often, but the two of us always come. We usually do a bit of early holiday shopping. Eat junk food. Stuff like that.”

“Well, we’ve eaten some junk food,” Jack said, glancing at your empty plates. “We’ll get to more of that later. Haven’t done any shopping, though.”

“I’m not dragging you through the vendor buildings,” you protested.

“Who says you’ll be dragging me, darlin’?” Jack shot back with an easy grin. “I’ll tell you if I get bored, promise. Now c’mon.” He grabbed your hand, towing you along with him. The crowds parted easily for him, and you couldn’t help a little huff of jealousy. Of course he’d get from point A to point B without being elbowed half a dozen times.

To your surprise, Jack was just as enthusiastic about shopping as your friend was. He had an eye for quality, charmed the vendors into giving you better deals, and ended up with multiple purchases of his own. He stopped and bought beef jerky in a variety of flavors. He sampled local honey with you. He even somehow ended up in a half hour discussion with a local vintner talking about barrels, of all things. That one you mostly just watched, perplexed, only half following the conversation. Watching Jack was far more interesting, anyway. He was a social chameleon, able to fit in at any and every booth he stopped at. Honestly, it was fascinating to watch.

Jack carried half of your bags for you, ignoring your protests, until you huffed and gave in.

The two of you zig-zagged back and forth through the vendor buildings for a solid few hours, until you cried mercy and Jack insisted on a snack break. He parked you at a quiet out of the way table, away from the main hustle and bustle of the fair, and vanished with promises to return with sustenance. You sat backwards on the bench so you could lean back against the edge of the table, smiling. Your day had certainly turned out much better than you would have guessed.

Jack came striding back with a funnel cake, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“I haven’t had one of these in years,” you told him, amused as you took one of the forks.

“It is a fair,” he told you with a wink. “Haveta get something fried here, darlin’.”

“Fair enough.” You smiled at him, sitting closer than was strictly necessary on the bench to share the funnel cake with him. The quiet was easy between the two of you, comfortable and relaxed. The fair noises were a little quieter here, and nobody even passed by your table.

“You’ve got a little somethin’,” Jack said, pointing to his own cheek to demonstrate. You swiped at your cheek, and he shook his head. “Nope, still there.” After watching you wipe your cheek again, he chuckled. “May I?”

“Okay,” you agreed, heart tripping and then slamming into double time. Jack reached over slowly, giving you plenty of time to move, and his thumb swiped across your cheek, then again. You leaned into the touch, and his hand cupped your cheek instead.

“Can I kiss you, darlin’?” he asked, voice low and quiet.

“Yes.”

Jack leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. His moustache tickled a little, making you smile into the kiss. His hand was warm against your cheek as he held you there, pulling back a little.

“More, please,” you murmured, still smiling at him.

“With pleasure.” Jack kissed you again, a series of gentle kisses that slowly became less chaste until he finally pulled back. Your eyes fluttered open – when had you closed them? Jack was smiling, his thumb sweeping across your cheek again.

“I think we can safely say you rescued the day,” you murmured, smiling.

“It’s my pleasure, darlin’,” Jack assured you. He kissed you one more time, apparently unable to resist, and then sat back. “What else is on your agenda for the day?”

You pulled out your phone for the first time in hours to check the time and make sure you hadn’t missed any actually important messages. Nothing important. And it was getting later than you’d realized.

“I should probably head home soon,” you said regretfully. “I don’t usually stay for the music stuff. Too loud.”

“I understand.” Jack smiled. “Well, then, darlin’, you say the word and I’ll help you to your car.”

“You don’t have to,” you protested, already knowing it was useless and unable to hide your smile.

“I insist,” Jack told you with a grin of his own. “My mama’d box me ‘round the ears if I didn’t.”

You giggled at that and shook your head. “Come on, one more walk down the main road, just in case anything catches our attention.”

The two of you stood, Jack once again stealing most of the bags (although you had to admit he had them stacked and set inside each other to make things easier), and then you were off. You were at the far end of the fair, so you had a nice stroll towards the front. It was just about the point at which the type of crowd changed – the families with children were leaving, and the teenagers and young adults were starting to swarm in for the musician of the night.

Honestly, you were loathe for the night to end, but you needed to get home.

“Thank you for today,” you told Jack as the two of you walked back to your car. “Really.”

“It was my pleasure, darlin’,” Jack told you. He set down your bags in your car and then boxed you in against the side of your car, tipping his hat (which was still on your head) up so he could kiss you again. And again. And again. Finally he stepped back, lips shining and red, eyes dark. “I’ll see you again soon, darlin’.”

“Your hat,” you started.

“I’ll get it next time.” Jack gave you one last lingering kiss before he took two big steps backwards. “Go on home. Check your bags. We’ll talk soon.” He winked you and turned, walking away.

It took every ounce of willpower you had not to either go after him or immediately dig through your bags to find out what he was talking about. Instead you drove home as calmly as you could, the hat placed safely on the passenger seat. As soon as you were parked, you were gathering up the bags and the hat and bolting inside to find whatever he had left you.

A small bag that you didn’t recognize was tucked into one of the bigger bags. Inside was a pair of earrings you had talked yourself out of buying, citing that they were out of your price range, and a business card. The business card had two numbers: office and cell. Jack Daniels. The simple note written on it made your heart soar.

Call me anytime, darlin’. I’ll see you soon.

Tags: @fandom-blackhole @pedrocentric @beskarprincessjenny @sarahjkl82-blog @cannedsoupsucks @liviiii98 @adriiibell @seasonschange-butpeopledont @princessxkenobi @thirddeadlysin @pbeatriz @oonajaeadira @kiizhikehn-cedar @green-socks

#Jack Daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels x you #jen's 100 follower celebration

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lonely-lost-soul · 4 years ago

Text

First Lady of the Court

(Wilbur Soot X Reader)

Eyes fluttering open, you came face to face with the eyes of the president of L’manburg, his dark brown eyes were full of tender affection. A smile spread across your lips at the sight and his fingers brushed your hair off your face. Your hand came up to hold his as you nuzzled your face against his palm. You watched the British boy’s face turn a bright red at the sight he let out a strangled sound.

“Good morning to you too Mr. President.” A giggle spilled from your lips as Wilbur pulled his hand away.

“Good morning my lovely first lady.” He cleared his throat, putting a hand over his mouth, “did you sleep okay?”

Stretching your arms above your head you nodded, you ruffled your (h/c) hair.

“Slept like a baby. How about you? Are you nervous for you and Tommy today?” You sat upon your elbows as he looked at you thoughtfully.

“Hm... telling you would be spoiling the fun now wouldn’t it?” Wilbur mused, giving you a cheeky smile.

“Boo unfair, I deserve to know I am the first lady after all.” You scoffed pouting at your lover.

A lover is such a weird term to describe what you had with one Wilbur Soot. When L’manburg was founded and the presidency appointed to him you had agreed to take up the position of the first lady. Wilbur was ecstatic to hear you agree to the position after all, all he wanted was to ‘rule’ L’manburg by your side. To be more specific one of your duties was to love and care for the current president, be their pillar of sanity if the job became too overwhelming or stressful. Another job that fell within your duties was to keep the people happy and share their stresses with the president in hopes you could convince him to listen to the people. Luckily with Wilburs reign, there wasn’t many complaints you had to share with him, and on the rare occasion that there were any he was willing to listen and come up with a plan. All you wanted was to give the citizens of L’manburg the best life possible, and you knew Wilbur ultimately wants the same.

Wilbur and you decided to embrace it the romantic assumptions that came with you being the first lady, solely for political reasons, that’s what he always wanted to stress. However, he always said it a bit franticly with a blush across his face and while flapping hands. You couldn’t help but snicker every time he did it, you would simply nod and say of course but those ‘political reasons’ never justified why he insisted you two sleep in the same bed. You didn’t mind, as long as it made Wilbur happy, you’ve always loved him and you had a feeling he felt the same without saying it.

“Yeah, I know you are. Even so you still have to find out like everyone else, plus there are always last-minute calculations that need to be taken into account. Especially since someone got bots to vote for them.” He rolled his eyes clicking his tongue in distaste.

“Oh we have drama, we love tea.” You teased swinging your legs over the bed and Wilbur followed your movements.

“You have such a way with words.”

“Says the man who agreed with a sixteen year old to name his campaign POG2020.”

“It’s a good name!” Wilbur tried to defend and you just snickered in response he glared at you grabbing his L’manburg hat and placing it on his head.

“Yes, Wilby of course it is.” He moved back towards the bed and wrapped his arms around your waist placing his chin on your head. “Hey off, off! You’re messing up my hair!” You could practically feel Wilbur’s smile as he let out a little hum,

“Hm no I don’t think so, after all, I don’t think I can mess up your hair more than it already is.”

“OKAY RUDE!” You squawked swatting at the hands around your waist already done with him today. “I’m telling you right now you keep this up and I’ll be rooting for someone else to win.”

“How fucking dare you.” Wilbur gasped dramatically falling back on the bed as you turned to stick your tongue out at him.

“You deserve it, now get dressed we have an election to get ready for you dork.”

“Do you need any help with that-” A pillow was thrown in his face and he laughed cheerfully, “-point taken!” You both went to your separate bathrooms to get ready for the day. You had chosen a nice black skirt that was very professional looking and went down to just under your knees. The shirt you’ve chosen was a nice (f/c) blouse with a L’manburg pin, pinned onto the front pocket. Bending over you slipped on black heels, you just wanted to try to reach Wilbur’s height so you didn’t look so atrocious standing beside him on the podium. You quickly ran a brush/comb through your hair just to make it look presentable, looking in the mirror you finger gunned at yourself and smirked.

“Looking good.” You beamed happily before stepping out of the bathroom, Wilbur was already standing in the bedroom looking over what seemed to be some stuff around the election. “Wow, Wilby. You clean up nice.” Wilbur looked up from over his book and a bright flush came across his face when he took in your outfit.

“I- Ugh- thank you- you too!” He squeaked pupils dilating a little as he took a step back as you got closer. You moved quicker than him though and reached out to fix the collar of his shirt. Smiling a little at his reaction you straightened out said collar and placed your hands on his chest.

“You’re gonna do amazing today darling.” Your voice soothed and he seemed to relax under your hands, “Whether you win or not, you were the best choice for L’manburg’s first president. I mean that.” You looked up at him through your eyelashes, as your doe eyes stared up at him Wilbur felt like he lost his last life and went up to heaven.

He brought his hand up to your cheek and cupped it gently, his thumb brushing across it in soft movements. “Thank you (y/n) that means the entire world to me. Truly you don’t know how happy I am to hear that from you.” You smiled and pressed a kiss to his palm and he sighed happily at the small gesture shared between the two of you.

“I’m going to need to go find Tubbo and Tommy,” Wilbur whispered to you after a few more moments of comfortable silence. “But I don’t wanna leave you…”

“I’ll either be here or at the podium, go converse with your brothers.” You smiled softly stepping away from him and crossing your arms. He gave you one last look eyeing you up and down before giving you a tight hug once more.

“You look really beautiful by the way! See you later!” He said quickly before scurrying out of the room, you blinked a few times before heat rose into your cheeks. You let out your strangled sound slapping both of your hands to your cheeks,

‘He can’t just say that and run away the bastard!’

---

Stepping up to the podium you greeted everyone who was there early, and where greeted by you got a few teasing whistles from Quackity.

“You certainly clean up nice Ms. First Lady.~” He mused winking at you and you fondly rolled your eyes knowing that was Quackity being himself.

“Thank you very much I don’t look like his often so drink it up.” You teased as he laughed.

“I know I will sweetcheeks.” Schlatt mused appearing from besides Quackity once again that earned the duo another eye roll. “Hey come on now what’s with that look? Just what did I do to deserve that? After all, I’m going to be your new president, you’re gonna have to treat me with more respect.” An arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled you close, he smirked down at you and you frowned. Before you could protest the statement, Schlatt made a startled noise as Tommy seemingly came out of nowhere and pushed him away from you by the horns. “Hey Hey hey! Watch it, kid, this face is a money maker!”

“There’s no way in hell you’re gonna be the new president of L’manburg!” The young teen shrieked standing in front of you as if to guard you against the goat-man.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, you think you have a better chance at winning than me?” Schlatt laughed loudly in Tommy’s face, “Hell even the broad has a better chance at winning than you and Wilbur and she’s not even fucking running!”

“Lay off him Schlatt.” You placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder to calm the angry boy down. “Let’s not start a fight, that’s the last thing we need right now.” Tommy looked like he didn’t want to listen to you but shut up as soon as Wilbur came up to stand on the podium. Tommy fumbled to do a little salute and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his almost desperate antics to please Wilbur.

“Thanks for trying to prevent another full-out fight darling.” He mused looking at you and you smiled.

“It’s my job, after all, that is what I’m here for.” You shot back with a smile going to take your seat behind the group that was already up on the podium. Wilbur smiled softly at you before clearing his throat and addressing the crowd, welcoming everyone here for the first-ever L’manburg election. You sat there watching him give his speech with power and grace and your face softened immensely. In your opinion there was no way that he could lose this election, he was the only one for the job no questions asked. You only zoned back in when you heard Tommy’s loud shriek of shock, you blinked your (e/c) eyes and whipped your head around did you seriously miss the announcement of who won the election? God, you were a dumb broad. You felt someone grab your arm and you turned to face them it was the worried face of Wilbur,

“Come on darling.” He spoke softly “We should move to the crowd. Let Schlatt give his speech in peace.”

“Schlatt won?” You choked out your eyes bugging out of your head.

“You bet your ass I did sweet-cheeks!” He laughed looking down at you, “Wilbur surprisingly enough I’m going to have to ask you to remove your hands from MY new first lady.” Schlatt had a wicked smirk on his face as he held out his hand to Wilbur who’s jaw dropped in shock. “What? Why do you look so surprised? You picked a looker Wilby,” He mocked with a wave of his hand “(Y/n)’s a fine piece of ass I’m going to let her continue to serve. Come on ova here.” Schlatt motioned for you to come over with his finger, you shakily stood up from your seat. Wilbur grip on your arm tightened as he ground his teeth, you turned to look at him and he looked devastated.

“Darling you don’t have to agree to this-”

“It’s my duty Wilby…” You murmured slipping your arm out of his hold and holding it to your heart. With careful steps you made your way over to Schlatts side, once more you felt his hand slide around your waist and pull you flush against him. He tilted his head a little so his horns rested lightly on your head. You watched Wilbur and Tommy descend the podium and sit within the audience down below, neither would look at you and you knew why...but you also felt a little hurt at that fact. You were just as upset about this as they were, they had to know that right?

You heard Schlatt clear his throat and grab the microphone.

"That was pretty easy. And you know what I said, the day I got unbanned from the DreamSMP, and the day I said I was running... an election that I won by the way? I said; "Things are gonna change". I looked every citizen of L'Manberg in the eyes and I said; "You listen to me... this place will be a lot different tomorrow." Let's start making it happen. My first decree, as the president of L'Manberg- the EMPEROR! of this great country-! Is to REVOKE the citizenship of WilburSoot, and TommyInnit! Get 'em outta here! Get 'em outta here! You're no longer welcome!" Your blood froze in your veins and your jaw dropped, finally Wilbur and Tommy locked eyes with you.

“Schlatt no you can’t do that to them! Tommy’s a kid-”

“Trust me (y/n) and just shut up for a minute.”

‘Run.’ You felt yourself mouth as Tommy and Wilbur turned heel and ran from L’manburg, a city that they founded was just ripped right out from under them. You only felt Schlatt’s grip on you tighten as he looked down at you and almost as if he was speaking to your soul he addressed what has left of the crowd again.

"Oh, it was so easy! Until further notice... WilburSoot and TommyInnit are merely a memory of L'Manberg. A relic- A relic of the past. A reminder, of the darkest era this country, has ever seen- and I guarantee you all; dear citizens... Tonight, that changes. We are entering into a new period of L'Mangerg- a period, of prosperity! of strength! of unity." He finally pushed you aside and Quackity caught your stumble and held you up in place, you were a little thankful considering you felt like falling onto your knees. “Tubbo- where's Tubbo? where's Tubbo?”

“I'm right here…” His meek voice wobbles from the crowd.

“Schlatt…” You warned trying to sound stronger than you felt.

“Jesus, do you ever shut up?” He laughed “Is this what Wilbur had to deal with? Jesus you’re lucky you’re smoking hot sweetcheeks.” You grit your teeth and glared at him through narrowed lids, “Kidding kidding! I can appreciate a broad who’s got a brain on her makes it much more fun. Anyway, Tubbo- get- get up here! Get up here on my podium!”

“Uh- uh…” The young hybrid stuttered hesitantly looking back and forth between the podium and where Tommy and Wilbur once stood.

“C'mon Tobbo, you're the Secretary of State.”

“Wait- what- Okay... Wa- I'm Secreta- am I?”

“Yeah I think- I think that's... I think he's always been that, I don't know…right?” He looked over at you and you gave a nod in confirmation. He’s trying to pit Tubbo and Tommy against one another the cheeky bastard.

“Uh, yeah... yeah that's- I didn't know I got to keep-”

“Well, I'm not gonna fire you! I mean you're Tubbo! What- am I gonna fire Tubbo?”

“Uh... okay.”

“Tubbo get- Tubbo get up here. Now.” Schlatts voice boomed over the crowd another wicked smirk spreading across his cheeks as he looked down at his citizens. The horns only made him look more devilish and menacing to everyone looking up at him.

“uh- okay, I'm on my way, I'm on my way, I'm on my way!” Tubbo sputtered out hesitantly, unsure of what the right call was to go with Tommy or stay here with Schlatt.

“I don't think he wants the job!” Quackity mocked a grin matching Schlatts spread across his cheeks. You frowned up at him in disappointment,

“It’s okay Tubbo I’m here…” You murmured under your breath.

“Get up here now!”

“I do want the job! I'm on my way- I'm on my way- I'm on my way!” He sputtered walking up to the podium. You heard Eret scold him softly and some others match their distaste, you swore you heard Tommy in the crowd. “I need to... I'm on my way- I'm on my way- I'm on my way, President. I'm on my way- I'm on my way- I'm on my-”

“Ah Tubbo, so good to see you.” Schlatt pursed his lips an arm going around Tubbo’s shoulders like they’ve been best buddies for years. Tubbo made a weak sound of acknowledgment at the greeting. “Yes sir, there he is.”

“Good day Mr. President.”

“I love this guy!” Schlatt exclaimed with a loud cheer and Tubbo took a small step away from him.

“Okay... Schlatt...?”

“Ohh my very own Tubbo... Tubbo. As my Secretary of State- as my right-hand man; of L'Manberg... I need you to do something for me Tubbo.” Your eyes narrowed into slits but you bit your tongue if anything you can work from the inside you, try to keep Schlatt reigned in the best you could.

“What Mr. President...?”

“I need you... to find Tommy. And I need you... to show him the door.” Schlatt emphasized slicing his thumb across his neck in a beheading motion, Tubbo paled considerably at the implication. Finally finding your voice you couldn’t help but snarl,

“He’s a child Schlatt you can’t go around ordering a child to slaughter another child that’s insane!” You came up and grabbed his arm giving it a sharp tug,

“I can do whatever I want! Wanna know why? It’s because I’m the president.” He only ruffled your hair with a mocking coo. “Quackity you take her back to her room, then come back home we got some walls to tear down.” You made a distressed sound as you were dragged away, Tubbo said your name with the same amount of distress. You hoped Tommy and Wilbur made their great escape and didn’t have to see the destruction of the walls, fuck this is one hundred percent the worst-case scenario.

“Quackity you’re hurting my arm.” You gave a soft murmur and his grip on it significantly loosened, he looked a tad bit guilty. “It’s okay.” You assured you couldn’t blame him for it, he was always kind to you before this which was what also made it so downright confusing. A plan was already trying to brew in the back of your mind, keep relationships with the citizens high even at the cost of yourself, in the end, they might be the only ones to have your back. There was suddenly a lot of yelling and shouting you saw a blur of pink burst past you followed my more of Jschlatt’s guards, Quackity pretty much abandoned you and joined the chase.

“Tehcnoblade!” He shouted out “Where the fuck did he come from?”

Blinking in surprise as you were left abandoned, ‘what the fuck is a Technoblade?’ You glanced over at the retreating figures and you could’ve sworn you saw a glistening golden crown. A figure slammed into your side and you stumbled backward a few steps, looking down you noticed Tubbo clinging tightly to your middle.

“(Y/n)! What’re we gonna do?” He looked up at your eyes full of fear and you frowned, this child just got out of one war and it will be potentially thrown into another. “What if Wilbur and Tommy don’t talk to us again? I can’t kill Tommy!”

“Hey, hey, hey.” You shushed softly running a hand through his hair careful of the tiny horns growing on his head. “Take a deep breath for me Tubbo, in for five then out for five okay? That’s it you’re doing great sweetie.” You watched for a bit as Tubbo followed your instructions and after he calmed down a little bit you knelt to his height. “We are going to help them, they’ll need some men on the inside and that’s just what we’re going to be.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“If they’ll have us yes, I think it will work. You’ll probably be able to sneak away much easier than I’ll be able to do you think you’ll be able to handle that?” He nodded vigorously at your words, determination seemed to radiate off of him in waves. Now all that was left was to find a way to contact Wilbur and Tommy, wherever they ran off too.

~~~

I had this in my google docs for a while so I figured I’d post it to give you guys some more food. Under the Floorboards pt. III is in the works have no fear!

#dreamsmp x reader #dream smp #technoblade #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #mcyt #minecraft fanfiction #mcyt x you #mcyt x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #l'manburg

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deathandmushrooms · 3 years ago

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Hi! Hi! I love your blog a lot <3

I was wondering: do all the mushrooms you eat taste the same? Or are some more "spongy" than others? Are some spicey? How do you know that the mushrooms you eat are 100% THAT mushroom and not a closely-the-same-but-toxic-or-worse mushroom? Im sorry if that was an overwhelming question, haha! You dont have to answer if you dont want to, but you HAVE to know that I LOVE your blog! 💙

My very first ask! 😱😍 Thank you so much for brightening my little night! It's not a problem at all, and not-at-all overwhelming!

This answer might be though....

1. The mushrooms do not all taste the same! Some taste meatier--more savory (like chicken of the woods, or maitake--or what I call tree-chicken and tree-bacon respectively); some taste almost more like crab (Hericium)--this one can be a bit spongy; some taste a little peppery (black trumpet); some taste very earthy and a little smoky (old man of the woods)--but I might have just burnt that last one 😂. Sorry, Old Man: it will probably happen again.

2. Some mushrooms are great to forage because there aren't any mushrooms that look like that mushroom and are toxic. Like shaggy mane, giant puffball, or black trumpets (below).

I mean, you might confuse this with a blue chanterelle or pig's ear, I guess, in which case you have erred deliciously (Oh man I really want an apron with a picture of a black goat that says err deliciously on it now 😂--sorry, distractable)

Clyde Christensen talks about the "fool proof four," meaning fairly common mushrooms that are pretty safe for beginning foragers because it's really difficult to confuse them with something toxic (his are giant puffball, morels, chicken of the woods (below), and shaggy mane I think?).

Then, you have mushroms that might be confused with something toxic, just because something exists in your region which looks something like it and is toxic. Like, enoki mushrooms (something I'm on the look out for now) look like deadly galerina--a mushroom with the same amatoxin as the destroying angel which (if the name didn't give it away) can kill you.

But, even though they look very similar, there are reliable differences--like their spore print. If you remove the cap of an enoki, and leave it on a piece of paper, foil, or glass for a few hours, it will drop a white spore print. Deadly galerina drop a sort of rusty brown.

Some mushrooms are very rude and can't be distinguished from their toxic look-alikes with a spore print. Lots of white gilled mushrooms drop a white spore print, including some that you can eat and some that you can eat but only once.

But there's always something that distinguishes them, whether it's the shape of the base, the way the gills are attached to the stem (or not), the color, their environment, the texture, the color it turns when you cut into into it--and the more of these distinguishing features you know, the more confident you'll be that you have the right mushroom.

But, first time I forage something I cook up a small piece and eat it, wait 12 hours or so, meditate on the transience of life and my own mortality (kidding...mostly), and get really paranoid about any of my bodily sensations for a while 😂....Also bc you never know when you're going to have a sensitivity to something, even when it is the correct mushroom. I mean, kiwi is edible but I don't have a good time when I eat it. Though with those shaggy manes I found today I did not do that bc if I'd waited that long they'd be goo. I have yet to experience any ill effect from a mushroom, but if I do I will be in for a slightly less bad time than if I'd eaten a whole bunch of it at once.

But you get to know mushrooms, and trust yourself and your own ID and the waiting thing doesn't feel necessary any more. There are so many mushrooms and it can be pretty overwhelming. When I first started learning to formally identify mushrooms, I was so sure I would never eat something I'd foraged myself. I just didn't have confidence in myself...but I unintentionally cultivated that confidence when I was just having fun looking at and reading about mushrooms.

It's not at all an exaggeration to say that this hobby has been wonderful for my mental health, especially my anxiety....and I mean like, often-can't-leave-the-house and won't-answer-the-phone anxiety.

Learning mushrooms is a bit like moving to a new city or even country, if you're very new. There's all these streets and stores and people you don't know. But you start exploring bit by bit, maybe doing some research beforehand. Or you see something interesting, go "What that??" and research it after. And each time you learn one little area, you develop an eye (and nose) for what's most relevant and the vocabulary you need, and learning becomes easier and easier.

This metaphor got away from me. You don't do it all at once is my point. 😂

I take mushrooms one at a time, learn everything I can about that species, and then they start to feel familiar and almost sort of friendly. And I pass them on a hike and wave and say, "Hey Strobilomyces strobilaceus, how you doing, how's the spores?"

And then they don't say anything because they're a fungus. And then sometimes I take them home and eat them because they're also an edible fungus 💙

#mycology #mushrooms #foraging #fungi #anxiety #questions from the forest floor #long post #asks

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pregnant-piggy · 3 years ago

Text

Summer Games - three

Blaise Zabini x reader

masterlist

warnings: no pronouns used for the reader,

A/N: I had so much fun writing this part and coming up with all the stupid things! I really hope you like it :)

written for @omgrachwrites writing challenge with the prompts: ‘I can’t have this argument with you again.’ ‘But—’ ‘No, I’m done.’ and ‘Sorry… your hair was in your face… thought I should move it so I could see you better.’

word count: 3.9k

The next morning Blaise awoke before Draco and rather than waking his friend too, Blaise got dressed in silence and slipped out of the room. He walked down to the kitchen, where he found you sitting at the table with a mug in your hands, reading the morning papers.

‘Might rain this afternoon,’ you said without looking up.

Blaise hummed something as he sat down opposite of you and poured himself a cup of coffee. He looked up and studied your face as you read the newspaper. Your eyes scanned the pages quickly, picking out the things worth reading. Blaise watched you for a few minutes until you had finished and looked up at him.

‘What you’re doing?’ he asked when you kept looking at him.

‘Looking at you,’ you smiled.

Blaise chuckled nervously. ‘I noticed that, yeah. But why?’

‘I’m probably not gonna see you all day,’ you shrugged. ‘Don’t wanna forget that pretty face of yours.’

Blaise straightened his back and blinked. ‘Don’t wanna—’

‘Good morning, lovelies!’ Pansy interrupted as she threw open the door of the kitchen and strode in.

Blaise was still turned to you and watched as you hugged Pansy shortly before she sat down next to you. She poured herself some coffee and looked at Blaise.

‘Blaise, stop staring, that’s rude,’ Pansy said and she waved her hand in front of Blaise’s face.

He quickly looked away from you and shot Pansy a nasty look before he turned to his coffee.

‘Pansy don’t bug him,’ you scolded and shot Blaise a kind smile. ‘It’s only morning.’

‘Fine, fine,’ Pansy said and she waved your words away with her hand. ‘I won’t bug him until later this day.’ She took a sip from her coffee and pulled a face before quickly scooping two spoons of sugar in her cup. ‘Where’s Draco?’

‘Still asleep,’ Blaise muttered. ‘I considered hexing him awake, but I still have to sleep here for two nights and Draco with a grudge is not someone you want to sleep next to.’

‘I am not that bad,’ a grumpy voice at the doorframe said. Draco walked into the room and flopped down on the chair next to Blaise. ‘Coffee, please.’

‘Sure, you’re not that bad,’ you snickered as you poured coffee in Draco’s mug.

While Draco drank his coffee, you told your friends what Game today would be. ‘It’s the last day before the winner gets announced. Yesterday while we were at the lake the other half of the teams played games in the fields. Before we set off today we’ll get the ranking so far, so you know what team to beat.’

‘But what are we doing today?’ Pansy asked.

A big smile spread on your face. ‘It’s the best Game of the whole festival. The organisation has put out a big scavenger hunt. It goes through the whole village and we have to solve riddles and collect things. You’ll get a list with things to collect and usually the team splits up in little groups and each group gets a part of the list.’

‘What sort of things do we have to collect? Because I’m really not interested in breaking my back from carrying a lot,’ Draco said.

‘I don’t know,’ you replied. ‘Usually there’s a theme to the hunt. My grandma helps to put it together and previous years she’d tell me what the theme was but she hasn’t this year.’

‘So we’ll just go around town collecting things? Isn’t that boring?’

Your smile faltered a bit and Blaise kicked Draco under the table. ‘Don’t listen to him, he’s a jerk in the morning. It sounds fun!’

You smiled thankfully at Blaise and after Pansy also reassured you that it sounded great, your smile was back on your face, and it stayed there for the rest of the morning.

/\/\/\

The scavenger hunt had officially started. A little earlier the scores of the teams had been disclosed; the Sly Foxes were on top with only two points difference between them and the Red Titans. Next were the Oiled Machines and at the bottom the Raging Angels. But just by a few points so all could change with the scavenger hunt.

The organisation had handed out the lists with the things to collect and the theme had quickly been clear.

Book of Spells … 7 pts

Iron Cauldron … 15 pts

Vial with Sleeping Potion … 12 pts

Witch Hat … 5 pts

Unnecessarily the woman of the organisation had added that the theme of this year’s hunt was ‘magic’ and both Blaise and Draco had had to refrain their laughter at the stereotypical items they had to collect. There was a whole list on ingredients for potions that no real wizard would ever think of using, such as goat milk and rabbit turds. Apparently Muggles still thought of witches as old, weary women in little shacks in the woods.

Blaise and Draco had been teamed up with three other Foxes. Neither of them knew any of the three, but after his little spat with Alysia two days ago, Blaise was more than happy that he wasn’t in her team.

The oldest of their team was Ivanna, a woman of thirty-four with a pale face and sleek brown hair. Despite the heat she was wearing long trousers and a jacket over her shirt. She’d told the rest of the team that she had a little baby of just two months old, so that if she seemed tired it meant she probably was.

The second of the three was the twenty-three year old student Mica. They had a dark golden skin and black, curly hair that had been cut short and dyed blue in the ends. Under the blue bangs lay two dark eyes that glittered with excitement and competitiveness. Mica was a student in London, but they had come back to the town where they’d grown up for the Summer Games.

The last teammate was the very young Raoul. He was the son of the man Draco and Blaise had met the first day of the festival at the stand with the cherry pastries, Hank. Raoul was just eleven years old, but he brought a childlike enthusiasm with him that made everyone in the team energized.

They were by far the youngest team, as all the other teams had the more aged villagers, so they called themselves the Sly Pups. Quickly they set to work and looked at the items on their list.

‘Does this make any sense to you?’ Ivanna asked as she handed the list to Blaise and Draco.

Errn rq srwlrqv … 7 pts

Eurrpvwlfh … 17 pts

Fordn … 9 pts

Fdqgohv .. 10 pts

‘I don’t get it,’ Draco said to the rest of the team and then he whispered to Blaise: ‘You didn’t take Ancient Runes, did you?’

‘No, I didn’t,’ Blaise answered and he looked at the sheet in his hand. ‘But I doubt these are runes.’

Blaise looked around at the rest of the Sly Foxes but they didn’t seem to have the same problems, as they were already heading off. Then he looked at the other teams on the field and realised that from each team one group would stay bent over their list while the others took off. In one of the remaining teams Blaise recognised you and Pansy.

‘You don’t think it’s a mistake, do you?’ Ivanna asked with frowned eyebrows.

‘No, the other teams have it too,’ Blaise said and he nodded to the three groups left behind around them.

‘Wait, this one we can read!’ Mica said and pointed out the first line on the paper. ‘”To understand the magic you must always think three steps ahead.” What does that mean?’

The whole team silenced as they thought about the possible meaning of the sentence. Raoul looked around on the ground as if he would find the answer literally three steps ahead of him. For minutes it was quiet and Blaise’s annoyance grew.

To make his irritation even worse two of the other teams around them, including your team, had found the solution to the weird texts and were now running off the field. Blaise let out an exasperated sigh and he shook his head.

‘It can’t be this hard,’ Draco said.

‘It’s some sort of secret language, but I don’t understand the three steps,’ Mica admitted and they rubbed their temples with their knuckles.

‘My dad taught me a secret language once,’ Raoul said. ‘So we could write each other without my other dad finding out. We changed each letter with the one next in the alphabet.’

‘Of course!’ Mica exclaimed and they took the paper from Blaise. ‘Does someone have a pen?’

Ivanna gave Mica a pen and they turned Draco around to use his back. ‘What are you doing?’ Draco snapped but Mica ignored him as they started to write the alphabet on the top of the paper.

‘Look, it’s actually really easy,’ they said. ‘Each letter is swapped for a letter three steps ahead in the alphabet! Just like Raoul said!’

‘So that would mean that the e in the first word is actually a…’

‘A b!’ Mica completed Blaise’s sentence. ‘So the first word is… book… on… pot—potions! We have to find a potions book!’

‘I’ve got one of those in my bag,’ Draco muttered, but Blaise kicked him softly on his leg.

‘We have to go the library!’ Raoul said and he ran off.

‘Raoul! Wait a minute! Not so fast!’ Ivanna yelled after him and the group quickly followed the little boy.

/\/\/\

Your team had quickly figured out the solution to the weird text and found a potions book in the library, accompanied by a little paper with the next clue. Now you were sitting on the wall around the garden of the library with your team.

On your right sat Pansy and on your left Quincy. Quincy was your grandparents’ neighbour and you knew him very well so you were glad he was on your team. He was fifty-five and he had studied philosophy at the university in the nearest big city when he was younger. You hoped his intelligence would be applicable in the hunt, and so far it had for he had figured out the secret language.

Opposite of you stood Chantelle, the forty-two year old town’s librarian. Despite her being in her early forties she looked much older. She had a wrinkled face and neck and always stared at you with big eyes from behind her thick glasses. Her appearance was deceiving however, because her mentality was as quick as that of a young adult.

The last in your team was a teenage boy only a year older than you and Pansy. His name was Christopher and you had known him since you were a small child and you went to your grandparents in the summer. He had dark curls framing his olive face that was always painted with a bright smile. This time there was something other in his smile too and it only made sense to you after he told you that his boyfriend was in the other team and he desperately wanted to beat him.

‘y/n too,’ Pansy had said and Christopher had raised his eyebrow.

‘Really?’

‘No! Blaise is not my boyfriend!’ you’d cried to which Pansy had laughed.

‘Who said anything about Blaise? I merely said ‘boyfriend’.’

Now you were all looking at the new paper in your hand. The next item on the list was an eurrpvwlfh; a broomstick. Though finding out what the next item was had been easy, the real problem was finding the place where. The text on the paper you had gotten from the person in the library didn’t exactly help you very much.

Where I am is always a mystery.

Over mountains I fly,

Or I cross above the trees.

Down on the ground I rest,

Still and motionless I stand.

Pansy sighed and she threw her head back, closing her eyes as she thought about the riddle. Next to you, Quincy was staring at the text as if that would make him any wiser. Every once in a while he would hum but he didn’t come with an answer.

‘We’re gonna lose our lead like this,’ Christopher sighed as he looked around the street for other teams.

‘Surely we’re not seeing something,’ Pansy said and she tilted her head to the side, looking at the paper from a different angle. ‘No offense, but the organisation isn’t exactly a group of highly intelligent people, so maybe we have to think easier.’

Christopher chuckled and you faked a scowl at Pansy. ‘That’s my grandmother you’re talking about!’ you cried and Pansy just shrugged. ‘But you’re right. I am sure there is something clear that we’re overlooking.’

Chantelle cleared her throat and pointed at the text. ‘Maybe we should take a literal approach. You know, look at the text rather than the meaning?’

‘Here,’ you said and gave Chantelle the paper, allowing her to put her full focus on it.

Down the street you noticed a group of people approaching the library. Running ahead of the others was a young boy you recognised as Raoul. He had a big smile on his face and was waving the list with things to collect through the air. In the group behind him Blaise and Draco were walking together, followed by Mica and Ivanna. They noticed your team and Blaise and Draco waved.

‘Not to put pressure on you, but I really hope you can figure it out now because if we don’t win from Blaise and Draco I will be hearing that for the rest of my life,’ you sighed and Pansy nodded.

Chantelle looked up from the paper and winked at you. ‘I got it.’

Your team cheered and Blaise’s team, that was just about to enter the library, looked around. Upon seeing your team so happy, their faces turned sad.

‘See you tonight, boys!’ Pansy shouted. ‘Losers have to do the dishes!’

/\/\/\

Blaise and his team stepped out of the woods with the broomstick in their hand. The broom was old and twitchy and Blaise had to stifle a laugh thinking of how different the real broomsticks were in the wizarding world.

Again it had been Mica who had guessed the answer of the riddle. Blaise wondered where the team would be if they hadn’t been here. Probably still working on the first puzzle. But Mica had figured out that the first letters of the sentences in the little poem formed the word woods, the place where they had found the broomstick.

Now they only had the next word, fordn, meaning cloak, and a silver pin. It was not much to go on but Ivanna had recognised the pin straight away.

‘It comes from Mrs. Heath’s studio!’ she exclaimed and looked at the little pin in her fingers. ‘It’s what she uses for her dresses!’

Unfortunately Mrs. Heath’s studio lay on the other side of the village and it would take at least forty minutes before they’d get there.

‘Forty minutes?!’ Draco cried and when the team set off he turned to Blaise. ‘Stupid Muggles, why can’t we just apparate?’

‘Oh shut it, Malfoy,’ Blaise said. ‘It’s fun!’

‘I’m gonna curse y/n for making us do this…’

Grudging Draco followed the rest of his team and though Blaise would never say it to his friend, he had to admit that his feet were beginning to hurt.

The Sly Pups passed little houses with colourful front yards, full of flowers and bushes. The main street was silent and all the shops were closed, as most of the inhabitants were participating in the Games and there was no need for the stores to be open. They ran into a few other teams, but none of those had the same list as they had.

After forty-five minutes they arrived at the old house of Mrs. Heath. In the garden there was a little path, past pink flowerbeds and a small pond with fish. Halfway in the garden the path split in two. One side led to the bright yellow front door, the other led to a wooden door with a sign on it that said the Heath atelier.

Ivanna stepped through the garden and knocked on the yellow door. A minute it was silent and then an old lady opened the door. She was wearing an orange with blue flowers dress that reached to the ground and her grey hair hung in a braid over her shoulder. Her lips spread into a smile when she saw the five people at her door.

‘You’re the first ones!’ Mrs. Heath smiled and she stepped out of the door. ‘Come, come, follow me!’

Blaise sent Draco a questioning look as they followed Mrs. Heath to her studio. Your team had been far ahead of Pups, having figured out where to find the broomstick before Blaise’s team even had the riddle. In the forest there had been two brooms already collected, but apparently the Sly Pups were the only ones who had found where the silver pin came from.

Inside the Heath atelier stood four mannequins with colourful robes. Each had a different colour and pattern. There was a dark blue one with yellow stars, a green one covered with red flowers and one coloured yellow with orange and red flames. Blaise snickered at the cloaks; the only one he had even seen wearing such colours was Dumbledore and he couldn’t exactly be called a normal wizard.

‘You take this one,’ Mrs. Heath said and she pulled a bright pink cloak with yellow and green crescents embroidered in it from a mannequin. ‘And also—’ she opened a drawer and pulled out a thin object in the shape of a circle ‘—this one. Good luck!’

Ivanna took the object and the cloak and ushered the team outside. In the garden she handed over the cloak to Draco, who took it with a frown, and looked at what Mrs. Heath had given her.

‘It’s a coaster,’ Mica said, raising one eyebrow. ‘Why would she give us a coaster?’

Before anyone of the team could guess, however, another group arrived at the house. You and Pansy were walking ahead, both with tired and sweaty faces, and the rest of your team seemed just as exhausted.

Blaise waved at you and you gave him a weak smile back as you walked with your team inside.

‘Does anyone recognise this?’ Mica asked and they looked around the team.

Everyone shook their head and they sighed as one. Ivanna brought the coaster closer to her face and examined it. She dropped her shoulders and shook her head again. ‘I don’t know what it is.’

‘It probably has something to do with the next item,’ Mica said and they pulled out the list. ‘Candles. Is there a place here that sells candles or anything?’

‘But what has that got to do with the coaster?’ Blaise asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Mica admitted.

Your team came out of the studio with the green cloak and Pansy had a coaster in her hand. You huddled a little away from Blaise and your team formed a protective circle around the object in Pansy’s hand.

Blaise was standing with his back to your team, but he could hear the whispers. While his team tried to think of a solution for the weird puzzle, Blaise tried to listen to what your teammates had to say. And it seemed like your team had sorted it out as quickly as Ivanna had sorted out the solution of the pin.

‘I know where this is from,’ Quincy said. ‘At Mikey’s they use these coasters.’

‘And that would make sense, because in a restaurant they surely have candles!’ Chantelle added and the rest of your team mumbled approvingly.

Blaise looked around and saw your team leaving the garden and heading for the main street. You caught his stare and smiled enthusiastic at Blaise, making him weak in the knees with the innocent laugh on your face. Butterflies were fluttering through his stomach and he felt bad for eavesdropping on your team.

‘Blaise?’

‘Yeah?’ Blaise tore his gaze from you and turned to his team, finding them all looking at him.

Mica laughed and shook their head. ‘Ivanna said that she knows someone who makes candles,’ they said. ‘I know we haven’t got much time left, but it’s worth a try.’

The scavenger hunt would only last till four, then everyone had to return to the fields, whether they had found all the objects or not. Now there were only thirty minutes left, so they had to hurry.

Blaise looked at his team and thought of what he had heard a minute earlier. If they went to the candle-maker they would never get to the restaurant in time, and that would mean that they’d lose from your team. However, when Blaise thought of you and how happy you’d be when winning, he just couldn’t tell.

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Sounds great.’

/\/\/\

You were lying in bed, staring at the shapes the lamp cast on the ceiling. Pansy was hopping around in the room, trying to find the pyjamas that she had thrown off this morning. Her footsteps were heavy sounds on the wooden floor.

There was a faint smile on your face. This afternoon your team had been the only one to return with all four of the items on the list. Though that didn’t guarantee that the Red Titans had won the entire scavenger hunt, it did mean that you and Pansy’s team had won from Blaise and Draco’s.

However, there was one more thing that added to your smile.

‘He knew,’ you said and sat up against the headboard of the bed.

‘Who knew what?’ Pansy asked as she was bent over in the closet.

‘Blaise knew where to find the candles.’

Pansy looked up at you. ‘What do you mean? His team didn’t find them.’

‘No, his team didn’t know,’ you said while Pansy took off her shirt and trousers. ‘But he did.’

Pansy neatly folded her clothes and placed them on a shelf in the closet. Then she closed the door and looked around the room. ‘Where the hell are my clothes?’ she mumbled before she looked back at you. ‘How do you know?’

‘He overheard Quincy telling where the coaster came from,’ you said and you lifted the pillow on the bed and revealed Pansy’s pyjamas. ‘He looked at me before we walked away. I could see it in his face.’

Pansy had sat down on the bed and pulled the shirt over her head. ‘So if he knew, why didn’t he tell his team?’ she asked and then a wicked smile spread on her face. ‘He let you win.’

‘He let us win, Pansy,’ you corrected, but even you couldn’t suppress a smile. ‘But yeah.’

‘So that’s why you’ve been smiling so much all evening!’ Pansy exclaimed loudly and you shushed her.

‘Shh! He’s still in the room next to us!’

Pansy rolled her eyes and crawled under the covers next to you. ‘Will you now believe he’s totally into you?’

You turned off the light on the nightstand and lay down, pulling the duvet up to your chin. You stared at the dark ceiling for a moment, thinking back of today. With a smile you took Pansy’s hand and gave it a little squeeze.

‘Perhaps.’

- - - - - - -

taglist

general HP: @harry-pottery-barn @potters-heart @kingalrdy @missswriter @figlia--della--luna@sexysirius @awritingtree @bi-andready-tocry @lilulo-12fanfiction @ananad1 @treestarrrrrrrr @your-hispanichufflepuff @thefandomplace @theeicedamericano @girllety @moonstarrnghtsky @swearingsolemnly @weasleydream @secretsthathauntus @amixedwitch @izzyyy-1 @gryffindorgirl @kitkatkl @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts @nyotamalfoy

MASTERLIST

#summer games #rach's1kcelebration #blaise zabini x reader #blaise zabini imagine #blaise zabini #blaise x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter

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bikerjongho · 3 years ago

Text

in the coop | kang yeosang

genre: humor

character: college student!yeosang ft. college student!wooyoung

description: Yeosang and Wooyoung hatch and execute a plan to steal a chicken from a county fair to save it from the butcher.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: a little bit of swearing

author’s note: happy birthday yeosang!! <3 a gift for you. eat lots of chicken today! thank you for entertaining atiny with your humor and kindness. and leif, I hope you enjoy this especially, because I wrote this with you in mind. <3

taglist: @itsapapisongo @mangomingki @irehlevant @blueprint-han

The county fair was a treat to behold once a year. Though the smells were less of a treat to witness - filled with smells of starchy food and sweaty children, Yeosang and Wooyoung had to adapt to ignore it. Wooyoung did this by buying an enormous and sugar-coated funnel cake. When he dove into it while the two of them walked around the fairgrounds, a bit of powdered sugar dusted his nose.

Yeosang opted for a corndog. It was less messy and perhaps a bit healthier in comparison with the funnel cake. "You're going to have an awful stomachache when we leave," he said while he watched Wooyoung shove an absurdly large piece of funnel cake into his mouth.

"And?" Wooyoung said between chews, the powdered sugar on his nose that Yeosang had not bothered to mention making him look like a white Rudolph. "When else can I have funnel cake?"

Wooyoung was right, the fair was the only place Yeosang could think of that actually had funnel cake. But he wouldn't be surprised if Wooyoung birthed a food baby and a stomachache the next day. Yeosang took another bite of his corndog and decided not to push the matter.

They had been at the fair for a few hours now, going on rides that made their stomachs rearrange themselves and gave some usage to their vocal chords while they screamed. They were on break now, enjoying their dinners and pondering what to do next while their food settled.

Wooyoung had suggested they play tented games, like throwing ping pong balls onto the top of glass bottles or throwing balls to knock down clown faces in order to win a prize at the end of it. But Yeosang decided against it. "Those games are so incredibly rigged, we'd just waste our money because it's impossible to win," he said, so they both ignored the heckling game owner that tried to sell them balls so they could play his game.

"So what do we do?" Wooyoung pushed. "Stare at the farm animals?" He asked, and then gestured to the animal exhibition that was growing closer to them in the distance.

"Exactly!" Yeosang grinned. He was actually excited to see the animals, but Wooyoung groaned.

"Wouln't that be boring?" He whined.

"Not at all," Yeosang said, waving his corndog stick at him. "The animals are cute and we can compare them to our friends. I swear I saw a sheep that looked just like Seonghwa."

At the mention of making fun of their friends, Wooyoung's face broke out into an enormous and evil grin. "Then let's meet these furry friends!" He said and marched ahead of Yeosang to the cow barn.

Upon entrance to the barn, they were met with the pungent smell of animals. Yeosang and Wooyoung crinkled their noses at the same time. A cow mooed at them as greeting.

"Is that hay?" Wooyoung conversationally asked the cow, referring to the food it was eating, then directed the question at Yeosang.

"Like if I know," Yeosang shrugged. "Probably." He walked over to Wooyoung and pulled out a water bottle from Wooyoung's backpack and took a long drink. It was sweltering outside. And although the sun had descended from its peak a few hours ago, the heat still stung.

Wooyoung was closely inspecting the line of cows cheerfully eating hay and swishing their tails. "I think Hongjoong would enjoy being a cow," he said wisely. "Seems like a chill life. He always complains about stress."

"That one kind of looks like him," Yeosang laughed and pointed at one that did have some resemblance to Hongjoong.

They traversed to another area of the barn and found more animals - pigs, goats, sheep, llamas, geese, bunnies, and chickens. A goat was there to greet them with a loud and piercing bleat. "Jongho, is that you?" Wooyoung said as he smiled at the vocal goat.

"There's Seonghwa," Yeosang said and was quick to point out the sheep he had talked about earlier, resting in a pen.

"Yunho," Wooyoung said and gestured towards a particularly tall llama with a long neck.

"San," Yeosang said, and pointed to a pig pen. One of the pigs was having a blast and running around the pen excitedly. "And Mingi," he continued, gesturing to another pig peacefully sleeping in the corner.

"Yeosang," Wooyoung said, causing Yeosang to turn towards his friend, only to find out that he was being compared to a chicken.

"I'm not a chicken," he said, offended. He raised his eyebrows and pointed to a patch of honking geese near the pigs. "Wooyoung."

Wooyoung only took the geese as a compliment. He grinned like a little kid and honked himself. "Do the chicken dance for me, Yeosang," he bantered.

"Shut up," Yeosang said sweetly. But he had to admit, the chickens were extremely interesting. In his opinion, they were the best animal at the fair. It might have been because he loved to eat chicken, but the chickens he came by as he walked around their pens came in beautiful browns, reds, oranges, and blacks. Some of their eggs even came in different hues. When he walked by one, it pecked its beak towards him and made him smile. So he was in Wooyoung's line of vision, he silently did the chicken dance in front of a light orange variety.

"Amazing," Wooyoung breathed and walked closer to him. He peaked at the orange chicken that Yeosang was nearby. "Aw, this one is cute."

"But he didn't win any prizes," Yeosang said and gestured to the other chickens around them. While some chickens had beautiful multi-colored ribbons that announced they had won in some sort of category, this orange chicken had a small, simple, and drab white ribbon.

"Participation," Wooyoung said, ogling the single ribbon on the chicken's cage. "That's silly. He's a stunning bird. A true specimen of chicken." The orange chicken pecked at the cage in response to Wooyoung's compliment.

"Taken an interest in Mr. Clucks, eh?" A man said, coming from behind them. He wore worn blue jeans, sneakers, and a yellow plaid shirt. He was older, but the little twinkle in his eye that appeared when he smiled suggested he was young at heart. "I'm the owner of him and a few other animals in this exhibition," the man clarified.

"It's too bad he didn't win anything," Wooyoung said, always eager to talk to someone. "He's really quite a nice-looking chicken."

"It really is too bad," the owner nodded. "I send my non-winners to the butcher, unfortunately." He said this casually.

Yeosang and Wooyoung looked at the chicken, Mr. Clucks, and then back at the owner, who gave them a smile.

"The butcher?" Yeosang repeated. He couldn't have meant that. Perhaps it was just a joke. He knew, rationally, chickens had to be killed in order for him to enjoy fried chicken, but now he knew this chicken. He couldn't just die now.

"I know, it's unfortunate," the owner sighed, and Yeosang couldn't argue with him. He gave a smile to the owner and looked back at Mr. Clucks, adamantly pecking the ground, oblivious to his fate.

"I can't believe he'd just drop him like that," Yeosang said to Wooyoung after the owner had gone off to talk to other fair-goers. "This poor chicken will die because he wasn't good enough? Mr. Clucks doesn't deserve that." He looked back at the orange chicken with a saddened expression.

"Nothing we can do about it, though," Wooyoung shrugged while Mr. Clucks pecked at the ground some more. "Unless we were to steal him, but that's impossible. He's in that cage."

Yeosang nodded, unable to keep his eyes off of the chicken. "I really wish we..."

But Yeosang trailed off. On other cages, a small lock kept the door of the cage secure. But on Mr. Cluck's cage, the lock was both unlocked and broken. It would still prevent Mr. Clucks from getting out of the cage, but all Yeosang would need to do would be to slide the lock off of the hook that it was on.

Wooyoung noticed what Yeosang was seeing. "Yeosang, no. Absolutely not."

"But he's going to die," Yeosang pushed, his heart beginning to race. Could they save Mr. Clucks?

"Yeah, just like a lot of chicken!" Wooyoung hissed. "The same chicken that you gouge down about four times a week. And what if we get caught? We're not exactly inconspicuous carrying around a goddamn chicken."

Yeosang pointed to Wooyoung's backpack that was coincidentally chicken-sized.

"Yeosang," Wooyoung groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. "Okay, I guess I don't want him to die either. But he's not going to be happy in my backpack. He'd get stressed being in an unknown and closed space. We'd have a clucking backpack for the rest of our time at the fair."

"Then we steal- no, rescue him when we leave," Yeosang said, nodding at Wooyoung, who looked like he wanted to pass out on the floor out of exasperation. "Come on. This is a perfectly dumb thing that we can do together. We'll laugh about it in a few years."

"Not if the chicken police catches us," Wooyoung said, but his tone was amused rather than scolding. "Fine. But after we lose our minds on a few more rides."

Yeosang's smile was brighter than the blazing sun. "Thank you." Yeosang took one last look at Mr. Clucks in his cage before the two of them exited the animal exhibition.

Wooyoung and Yeosang proceeded to let themselves go wild for the last few hours of the fair. They rode one wooden and rickety rollercoaster in the fair multiple times with the other screaming preteens. They went on it so many times that the ride attendant learned their names, thanks to Wooyoung's loud personality and penchant for never shutting up.

"Well, Wooyoung, Yeosang," said the attendant, a cap that displayed the fair's company logo on his blond hair, "have fun on the ride. Again." He seemed to linger a little too long on Yeosang, but both of the boys were too eager to go on the ride to notice his attention to him.

Wooyoung later dared Yeosang go to on a terrible yet exciting throw up-inducing ride that flipped and turned its riders in the air. Yeosang stood in line with his arms crossed while Wooyoung gleefully stood on the sidelines. But the tables turned when the attendant told Yeosang that a minimum of two people were needed for each seat on the ride, and no one else in the line was riding single. There was no greater walk of shame for Wooyoung as he climbed into the ride's seat next to Yeosang. It was Yeosang's turn to be gleeful. So, the two of them screamed their lungs out as they whipped through the air and the sun smiled down at them from above.

The sun soon disappeared from the horizon and cooled down the fair. There was less light and more people crowding the fairgrounds, giving perfect conditions for the rescue of Mr. Clucks.

Wooyoung and Yeosang darkened the entrance to the chicken exhibition around eight o'clock. Wooyoung, armed with Mr. Cluck's red ride, his backpack, had a satisfied smile. Yeosang, eager to save his friend he had only met a few hours ago, made a beeline for the chicken.

"Mr. Clucks, hello!" He whispered as he slid the broken lock off of the cage while Wooyoung partially blocked him from other's view. There was only one other family with them, a mother and her screaming toddler, so they doubted she would pay attention to their thievery. The owner was also nowhere to be found, and the two of them had assumed he was tending to his other animals. The universe, it seemed, was optimized for thieves and discord this night.

Mr. Clucks clucked with fear when he was picked up by Yeosang from his cage, but all of the other chickens were also clucking. He was inaudible as he was placed carefully into Wooyoung's backpack and then zipped up.

"Oh, he's restless," Wooyoung muttered, now carrying the weight of poultry on his back. "I can feel him pecking my back."

"He's showing his love," Yeosang said and shut Mr. Cluck's now empty cage behind him. "Tomorrow, I'll go out and buy chicken food."

Wooyoung eyed him. "Yeosang, you're keeping him?" He asked, as if there wasn't a chicken in his backpack.

"What else am I supposed to do with him?" He asked incredulously, leading Wooyoung out of the chicken exhibition. It was luckily darker than when they had entered the chicken pens, so the small ruffling of Wooyoung's backpack was hardly noticeable. There was also enough screaming, laughing, and chattering from other fair-goers to deafen Mr. Cluck's clucking.

"Just let him go on the street?" Wooyoung shrugged. "You can't possibly take care of a chicken. Where will you put him?"

"I'm sure Pet Smart will have everything," Yeosang shrugged, weaving around a few of the fair-goers. They were almost at the exit of the fair. Once they were out of the gates, their rescue of Mr. Clucks would be a success.

"How was the fair?" The security guard that stood outside the fair asked, giving a serious smile as he checked to make sure Yeosang and Wooyoung had wrist bands.

"Egg-ceptional," Yeosang said at the same time Wooyoung said "im-peck-able." They then looked at each other with murder in their eyes.

The security guard, however, was not fazed. "Have a nice night," he said, and waved Yeosang, Wooyoung, and Mr. Clucks off.

Now that they were in the parking lot, Mr. Cluck's clucking was more audible. "Mr. Clucks, stop being so clucking- no, fucking loud!" Wooyoung hissed.

"It's fine, there's no one else around us," Yeosang reassured him. He could feel the adrenaline beginning to pick up inside him. They had done it, and Yeosang was so excited to show the rest of their friends Mr. Clucks.

"My backpack is going to smell like chicken for the rest of time," Wooyoung groaned as they reached Yeosang's car. He carefully placed down the backpack as he got into the passenger seat of the car and opened up the backpack. Mr. Clucks clucked as a greeting.

Yeosang peered over to look at their new friend. "Wonderful," he said, starting up the car. "Doesn't it feel good that we saved him?"

"What I'm feeling is itchy scratches on my back from all of his pecking, but sure," Wooyoung said, not taking his eyes off of Mr. Clucks. The orange chicken, now unzipped and a bit more free, seemed happier. Yeosang drove out of the parking lot.

"Get ready for your new home, Mr. Clucks," he said, turning smoothly into the lane that would take him home, "everyone is going to love you."

"What the hell?" Seonghwa said as a greeting when he walked into Yeosang's apartment. It was the next day, and Yeosang had gone out and bought all of the basic necessities for Mr. Clucks - a cage, chicken food, a chicken harness, and assorted clean up supplies. All of it sat in the corner of his apartment, while Yeosang himself was sitting on his couch. Mr. Clucks was perched onto his thighs and pecking aimlessly into the air.

"It's Mr. Clucks," Wooyoung said, leaning on the wall next to him with his arms crossed. "We stole him." He grinned while Seonghwa looked like he wanted to pass out.

Hongjoong entered the room next. He stared at Mr. Clucks for an absurdly long amount of time before saying, "Yeosang, I think your fried chicken is a bit undercooked." Seonghwa snorted.

"They stole him," Seonghwa added.

"From the fair," Wooyoung clarified.

"Why?" Hongjoong asked.

"Why not?" Yeosang said in reply, stroking Mr. Clucks' feathers.

Yunho and San entered Yeosang's apartment at the same time. "A chicken?" San asked, while Yunho sat right down next to Yeosang, admiring Mr. Clucks. Seonghwa and Hongjoong judged Yunho as he smiled and pet Mr. Clucks with Yeosang.

Jongho walked in with Mingi trailing behind him. While Jongho went through all five stages of grief upon seeing Mr. Clucks, Mingi was unfazed by Yeosang's new pet. "A chicken?" He asked. "What's his name?"

"Mr. Clucks," Yeosang grinned, which caused a few of them to look at each other with concern. Yeosang didn't seem to notice.

"Mr. Kang Clucks," Mingi finished.

At that, Yeosang brightened and Mr. Clucks let out a particularly triumphant cluck. "Oh, I love that name!"

"Or KC," San added. The room was oddly silent as Yeosang stroked his chicken, the only noise coming from Mr. Cluck's random clucks.

"Does the landlord know about this?" Hongjoong said finally, breaking the silence.

"He won't ever know," Yeosang said, smiling. "Well, unless he sees me taking it on a walk. But I think I'll be fine."

A pin could have dropped in the room. Seonghwa didn't take his eyes off of the harness, which had a leash, in the corner of the room. "A chicken," Hongjoong said finally, the unspoken spokesperson of the group. "Alright."

"I saved him from being killed," Yeosang felt the need to say. "And," he continued, looking at Wooyoung, "maybe I will end up releasing him or sending him to a good farm. But for now, I'll take care of him." He gave a grin to everyone, and as he stroked Mr. Clucks some more, it was clear that he dearly admired him.

But their smiles turned into held back laughter as Yeosang bent down and began dressing Mr. Clucks into a leashed harness. "I'll take him on his walk now," he said, placing Mr. Clucks down onto the floor wearing his new harness.

"Have a nice walk," a few of them echoed as they watched Yeosang and his domesticated poultry exit the apartment.

"A chicken," Seonghwa echoed now that Yeosang was gone. Jongho was already pulling out his phone and setting himself by the window to record Yeosang walking the chicken like it was a dog.

"I think the chicken is kind of cute," Yunho shrugged. "And it's admirable of him to give a bit of his time and money for the little guy."

"But a chicken," Seonghwa said. "A chicken."

They all grinned at that. But Yeosang was Yeosang, and as he walked outside with his winged and clucking pet, the rest of them felt a wave of respect and love for him.

And that was the sweet part about Yeosang - despite his love for eating chicken, he had a heart of gold and cared for unseen animals. And that allowed all of them to look at him at a new angle that, until now, none of them had previously noticed.

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mctherofdragons · 4 years ago

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In the Afterglow | 3 | F.W.

moodboard by @minty-malfoy.

Summary: The reader is married to George Weasley, and for all intents and purposes, he is the perfect husband. But, despite her best efforts to resist, Fred presents temptation she never knew she’d fall for.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem! Reader; George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Alternate Universe: No Voldemort AU

Rating: Mature, Future Chapters will Feature Explicit Content

Trigger Warnings: ANGST, mentions of extramarital affairs, cheating, mentions of infertility/miscarriage, mentions of sex, cussing, i think that’s it

Author’s Note: I have to give a HUGE shout out to @starlightweasley because oh my gosh, she has been my sounding board for SO many ideas for this fic and i’m so thankful for that. I hope you all love this chapter, but I will say it’s a bit of a filler. Chapter 4 will be much more in depth and have action between the reader and Fred (including fluff). Also, please note the TWs for infertility and miscarriage, which were not TWs in previous chapters. XO. PS: If your name is in bold, i couldn’t tag you.

Taglist: @oh-for-merlins-sake @sunflowernarry @vivianweasley @haf-the-trash-panda @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @msmarklee1213 @n3ssm0nique @satellitespidey @michaylahpfan27 @girl22334 @starlightweasley @minty-malfoy @theweasleytwinsgirl @louist-pics @pigwidgexn @snehkaaay @slytherinbth @laurrrtyyy

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

December 25th.

The Weasleys didn’t have all the money in the world for a lavish Christmas, but somehow, it was better to celebrate in their simple way. You sat on the sofa, your legs tucked beneath you comfortably. Taking a small sip of your hot cocoa, you watched as George stoked the fireplace.

“Happy Christmas, y/n,” Molly said as she entered, opening her arms wide. You gave her a warm hug, feeling the happiness simply radiating off of her. But inside, your stomach was in knots. Last night’s kiss with Fred was still fresh in your mind. He, on the other hand, was still sleeping.

You watched as Albus played on the floor with his new toys, looking over as George sat next to you. “Maybe next year...we’ll have another little Weasley on the way?,” Molly gave you a wink and you forced a smile. George put his arm around you. It made you feel ill.

“Mum,” George sighed. “You know we’re trying.” “Ah, well, getting there is half the fun I always say,” Arthur chuckled, sitting down with his cup of coffee.

“Arthur Weasley!,” Molly gasped. Again, the room filled with laughter. You snuggled further down into the sofa, glad to be distracted by the marshmallows swirling around in your mug.

_______________________

5 years earlier, November.

Gryffindor had won again, in no small part thanks to the Weasley twins. You took off running, your robes catching the wind behind you. You were practically bolting toward the twins as fast as you could. For a moment, Fred found himself smiling, allowing his mind to think you were running toward him. His forlorn face wasn’t apparent to you as you leaped immediately into George’s arms. You practically knocked George over as he twirled you around.

He laughed, taking in the scent of your perfume. “Hi, poppet,” he laughed, setting you down.

“My favorite beater,” you giggled, giving him a playful kiss. Leaning forward, you stood up on your tippy-toes to give his nose a little kiss. His whisper met your ear and you giggled. Fred had heard it, though, and he was sure George wasn’t even trying to be quiet.

“C’mon up to my room, love,” he whispered. Then he turned to his twin. “Hey, Fred, make yourself busy for a while, eh?”

George grabbed your hand and you took off toward Gryffindor tower, your stomach bursting with excitement for some alone time with George. Fred felt his stomach sink, jealousy brewing somewhere deep within him. He threw his broom down, eliciting a shocked look from the keeper next to him.

____________________________

Fred came down the stairs eventually. His red hair was tousled and you couldn’t help but bite your lip. You caught yourself quickly, snuggling in closer to George.

“Mornin, all. Happy Christmas, mum,” Fred gave Molly a little kiss on the forehead, heading over to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“Well now that Fred has decided to arise from his slumber, we should get around to opening the rest of our presents, yes?” Ginny seemed annoyed with her brother, but that was not too unusual.

Fred sat down on the floor, busying himself with sipping his coffee. Neither of you dared to look at one another. It occurred to you that maybe last night had been a dream, but then you felt the tiny rug burn on your lower back and knew it was real. Your sweater had lifted up while on the carpet with Fred, giving you a small scrape.

Everyone busied themselves with opening their presents. Molly practically cried over every gift her children got her, including a framed photo of everyone from last Christmas. Meanwhile, George and Fred had gotten each other expensive bottles of whiskey, nearly dying in laughter that they both got the same thing for one another.

Finally, George handed you a small black box and your heart fluttered. “For you, princess,” he grinned, giving you a small kiss. Something behind his eyes still felt distant, but you pushed your doubts away. You opened it up slowly, revealing a stunning vintage locket. It was eighteen karat gold and engraved with floral detail. It was no doubt madly expensive. It was stunning, the lights from the Christmas tree glinting off of its surface. You clicked the locket open, feeling yourself tear up at a picture of you both from your school days.

“Oh,” you put your hand over your heart. George took the necklace from you and turned you around, fastening the clasp for you. Once he was back in front of you, he pulled him into a kiss. “I love it, George.”

“Again, happy Christmas, love,” he gave your hand a squeeze. But you found yourself reaching up to touch the cold medal around your neck, secretly wishing a photo of Fred was inside.

You looked up and caught eyes with the other twin. You stared for a moment, his brown eyes burrowing deep into yours. Fred broke his gaze. “I need a moment,” he mumbled, quickly rushing outside.

“What’s got his goat?,” Ron said, stuffing a cookie into his mouth. Everyone shrugged, except for you. You felt your heart crack just a bit as you looked at the door which had just swung shut.

“I’ll go check on him,” you offered. No one suspected anything, of course. You were always kind to Fred. Each member of the family had assumed Fred was just stressed about the shop, as was usual, and needed some calming down.

You headed out the back door, rounding the corner behind the Burrow. Fred was leaned against the small shed out back, tears streaming down his face. He saw you and buried his face into one of his hands, his other arm pulled across his abdomen.

“Go back inside, y/n,” he sighed, using the sleeve of his sweater to wipe his eyes.

You dared to step forward, moving his hand away. “Fred.”

“Please, go back inside,” he gently moved you away from him.

But you pushed your luck again, stepping forward. He spun you around, kissing you with your back pressed against the cool wood of the shack. “Go back inside,” he repeated, the clouds of his breath floating up into the freezing air. A few tears remained on his cheeks, but they’d know somewhat rubbed off onto your cheeks. The winter breeze stung as it met the dampness. You kissed him again, and nothing about it was soft. When you and Fred kissed, it was as if you’d completely devour one another given the chance. Close was never close enough. He cupped your face in his hands, his forehead pressed tight to yours, your noses touching. “Go. Inside,” Fred repeated finally, and you slipped beneath his arms to head back toward the door.

“You’d best come in before they start to worry,” you said quietly, thankful you had decided against wearing lipstick that day.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･

December 28th.

George sat across from Fred, counting that day’s deposit. Fred had poured them both glasses of the whiskey from Christmas. This was something they occasionally enjoyed, basking in the happiness of just being brothers together. Usually, they talked about nothing in particular. World quidditch scores, or the latest movie they’d watched. But today, George seemed tenser. Fred hadn’t admitted it out loud, but he was partially nervous that George had suspected something.

Fred tipped the bottle to top off his glass, taking a strong sip as George placed the deposit into the lockbox. He took his own swig, setting down his glass as he looked at his twin.

“She’s driving me bloody mad, Fred,” he said finally, shaking his head. Fred raised an eyebrow, realizing George was about to start ranting about you.

“Is that right?,” Fred adjusted his shirt a bit, undoing the top button. He was already nervous for what was to come, knowing any ill word against you would make his anger spark.

“I mean, fuck, we’ve been trying for months now to get pregnant and she can’t. I know it isn’t her fault but, hell, it sucks, you know?”

“Oh, yeah,” Fred said quietly, swirling his ice cubes around in his drink as he moved his glass.

“And don’t even get me started on her being piss poor in bed, lately, neither,” George slammed back what was left of his whisky. He filled up his glass halfway again.

Fred felt his blood pressure hit the ceiling as if someone had set a Whiz Bang off in his brain.

“Ya know, I haven’t told anyone this, but she did get pregnant, a few months ago.” “How do you mean?” “Well, you know it….came away,” George frowned, feeling his throat get tight. “I just, ever since then, Fred. She doesn’t want to try anymore. I...I hate to admit this but, I’ve been...feeling less in love with her lately.”

Fred stayed quiet, unable to form a coherent sentence that wouldn’t give himself away. You were perfect to him, and imagining you curled up on a bathroom floor, experiencing profound loss, broke his spirit.

“It’ll all work out,” Fred gave George a friendly pat on the back. “C’mon, lets go down to the pub for a few with the boys, eh?” “Sure.”

Fred left the conversation there, forbidding himself to venture any further. Two can keep a secret, but he tended to be rubbish at it.

He felt his phone buzz and he pulled it out of his pocket, smiling down at the screen. Your name had popped up with a short text message.

Miss you. Meet tonight someplace?

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x fem!reader

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sadorangejuice · 4 years ago

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Dead? [kit walker]

Summary/explanation: this very specific ik it’s kinda weird but basically one of my chickens just got killed. like today I found her body in the woods. and I remembered seeing chickens at Kit and almas house in like the first ep. and then I was like oh yeah Kit walker would definitely comfort me even tho it’s just a chicken and I need to chill. so that’s why this. sorry that was a lot I just felt like I should explain bc this is so specific okay. Basically I’m writing this to comfort myself.

Warnings: death of a chicken. that should be it I believe.

(Emotional comfort)

“Kit, I haven’t seen the chickens in a while. Do you think they’re okay?” You ask, looking out the window slightly worried. You had a few chickens purely just for fresh eggs, but you also just enjoyed having something to take care of.

“I wouldn’t worry about it doll, they probably just found a some worms to eat.” He tries to reassure you but after a while you insist on going to look around for them. You grab a handful of chicken feed to attract them and go outside. You shake the food and call out for them but only find two of them. You give them their treat and head back around to see if you could find the other two. You think it’s strange that they weren’t all together. It was unusual for them not to come when called, you knew something was wrong.

“Kit I only found the two, that’s not like them, somethings wrong.” You spit out breathlessly as you open the door to tell Kit.

“Hey calm down honey, it’s okay. It’s not even sun down yet, they’ll head home when it starts to get dark. They always do.” He rubs your shoulders in attempt to settle your nerves. You knew Kit was right. So you sat down in the chair on his lap and watched television with Kit while you wait. You almost fell asleep as he was brushing his hand over your hair. You suddenly noticed it was nearly dark outside and sat up, quickly putting on your outdoor shoes to go search for the missing chickens.

“Y/N, wait. Let me do that alright doll?” He offers.

“Yeah you can come with me.” You rebuttal, determined to find your chickens. The two of you decide to tread down to the woods behind your shared home. Thinking perhaps they were hiding from a predator in the brush.

“I’m gonna go look down here, I’ve seen them here before.” He says walking to the left, as you go to the right. You scan all around you looking for the familiar bright feathers of your favorite little hen.

“I found the black and white one!” Kit shouts.

“Is she hurt.”

“No but she seem pretty shook up, they’re probably hiding from a hawk or something.”

“Okay, go put her in the coop with the others I’ll keep looking.” He picks up the chicken, and she happily goes along with him back to the safety of her little coop. You tread through the dead leaves and pine needles before something brighter than the dull brown surrounding pops out in your vision. You’re skeptical at first, passing it off as a rag, or trash that’s somehow ended up here. But as you step closer you see feather surrounding the bigger mass of white under a tangle of briars. You feel relieved at first, but then quickly notice the lack of movement. You make it through the briars adrenaline pumping. You almost wanted to turn around. If you turned around it never happened. You dreaded having your worst fear in this situation being confirmed.

“Oh god” you whisper tears briming your eyes as you finally reach you beloved chicken. Her feathers torn from her body and her head laying at a crooked angle. You didn’t even notice the head at first you thought it had been ripped off.

“Kit!” You yell, your voice cracking.

“Yeah, you find her?” He shouts back.

“Yeah.” You manage.

“Is she hurt?” He yells, fighting his was through the sticks and briars, to get to where he hears your voice going from.

“Yeah” you say quieter this time.

“Dead?”

“Mhmm.” You manage as he finally reaches you.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry doll.” Kit knew you loved each of the chickens dearly, having raised them from chicks, and fed them, and kept them safe for this long.

“Can you uh, grab her foot, and pull her out for me, doll?” You were smaller than Kit, and could reach your hand through the mess of pointy briars above.

“Yeah.” You oblige. Somewhat reluctantly reaching out towards her foot. Pulling back, almost scared to grab it. You let out a sob when you touch it, noticing how stiff she is and realizing she’s been dead for a while. Kit rubs your back, comforting you as much as he could. You’re sobbing even harder when he takes her from you, as you notice her head dangling limply, not aligned with the rest of her body. Kit reaches out his free hand to hold yours, and help you step out of the patch of brush. You escape with only a few scratches on your hands and ankles. You walk back to the house hand in hand and hand in— well dead chicken foot.

“I’m gonna go bury her. Will you be alright here.” He asks looking up at you.

“Yeah, but can you let me know before you cover the dirt over her, I wanna say goodbye.” You sniffle. He nods and grabs the shovel. You say your goodbyes and head back in the house. It’s dark by now and you’ve still been crying on and off. Feeling bad that you couldn’t save her. And guilty. And angry at whatever did this to her.

“So what do you think killed her?” You ask your husband.

“Not sure. Maybe a hawk clawed her neck trying to pick her up. But I didn’t see any blood. It could’ve been a possum, I’ve heard of them doing that, drinking the blood and leaving everything else.” He ponders.

“Oh my god Kit! It was one of those vampire dogs from Mexico!” You realize.

“What the hell are you talking about, doll.” He laughs at your sudden burst.

“Chupacabra! That’s what they’re called! They drink the blood from chickens and goats. They’re animal vampires.” You remember seeing some cryptic special on television one night.

“Those aren’t real Y/N” he laughs. You sit in his lap in silence leaning your head on his chest. Your fine for a while. But then you remember her cold stiff body, and her feathers everywhere, how scared she must’ve been. You’re so deep in thought that you don’t even notice your tears before Kit is wiping them off your face with his thumb.

“I’m sorry I know they’re just chickens I don’t know why I’m so upset about it I’ll be fine in the morning I—” suddenly embarrassed at how emotional you are over livestock.

“Don’t apologize, Y/N. That’s what I love about you. You feel for everything and everyone, no matter how small. You’re just so kind. Don’t apologize for having feelings, doll. You don’t have to do that with me.” He reassures you. And by the end of his words your tearing up again.

“I love you Kit Walker.” You mumble burying your head in his shoulder as you hug him tightly.

“And I love you, Y/N Walker.” He presses a kiss on your head, embracing you back. He hold you like that until you fall asleep, only moving to get up and take you to bed with him.

This is so weird and specific so I apologize if it makes no sense. It’s hard being a cottage core bitch with chickens 😔.

#kit walker imagine #kit walker x reader #kit walker #ahs imagine #ahs asylum

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helpicant-stop · 4 years ago

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Captain Puffy's Hair Tutorial

[ or : what actually happened when Hannah was with the Egg ]

please reblog!! it brings more attention to the piece and likes don't really do anything so it'd be super helpful if you did [[:

image id and funky drawing info [ + bonus sketches ] below the cut :

Image I.D. :

{the first panel is of captain puffy in a white void, smiling. her hair is immensely curly and large and literally looks like you could hide a whole person in it. she says, "hi guys! so lately, a lotta people have been asking," with a connecting speech bubble below adding, "'omg, puffy, how the [censor bar] does all your hair fit into that bun???'"

in the second panel, she says, "well, today i'm gonna show you exactly how!"

the third panel shows hannahxxrose, red sucked out of her normally very pink outfit, siting in the dark with a Gapple™ laptop open in front of her. she says, "oh pog! seems easy enough, guess i could try it."

the fourth panel cuts back to the video. puffy holds up a blue-grey bandana and says, "so first, i take a cloth-"

then the fifth panel cuts back to hannah, who's holding a cold green bandana in her hands while the video plays. the first speech bubble starts with, "and then you just . . ." with the other two speech bubbles being scribbles. the fourth one is much smaller than the others and says, ". . . hannah, if you're listening, which i [censor bar] know you are, sam's on his way please hold on i swear to god-"

the sixth panel simply shows puffy with her hands splayed, simply exclaiming, "TA-DA!!" with a pleased expression. all of her ridiculously voluminous hair has been somehow tucked into a tiny bun atop her head, decorated with the bandana wrapped over her head.

the seventh panel shows an extreme close-up of hannah's confused and disgruntled face, with a small speech bubble to her right simply saying, "what the fuck".

finally, the last panel zooms out to show that yes, she's still in a black concrete box beside the egg, and someone offscreen - presumably bad or ant - remarks, "HOW does she keep getting access to these computers???"}

End I.D.

captain puffy has one goat eye, and one human eye with goat pupils.

they also change colour depending on emotion : red is angry, orange is scared, yellow is happy, green is disgust, blue is sadness and purple is surprise, as seen in the sketch i made below [ yeah the colours are wrong because there's no option for yellow text jehekwb ] :

also, complicated emotions have multiple colours swirling together so that looks kinda cool [ i forgot to make a drawing for this lmao rip ]

her right horn was cut off after she became anti-egg since it was kind of overgrowing from lack of proper maintaining [ don't look up overgrown horns if you're sensitive to body horror ish images please ] , and her left horn was severed near the base after she presumably fell off her ship after the storm that took her to smp lands

speaking of which!! i have a headcanon that lightning struck her during the storm at some point and turned her hair white [ which is completely nonsensical but shut up], and she decided to dye the right side of her hair brown [ only the roots for some reason ] out of impulse once she got her pirate outfit back.

puffy has a detatchable hook hand and eyepatch! she found them in the ship with her pirate outfit and likes to put them on when she's in full dress to complete the vibe. and the hook actually does help with pulling up eggheads by the collar to scream "FUCK THE EGG" at them! /hj [ also i drew this particular sketch before the captain's tale episode so her outfit and hair are different and the drawing quality is significantly worse don't @ me ]

hannah keeps finding ways to access the internet and bad and ant have no idea how

hc where a legitimate laptop brand in the dsmp universe is Gapple. [ the competitor is obviously still samsung just to make the "phil fucked a samsung smart fridge" thing canon ]

follow - up headcanon : streams are like some kind of religious activity in the dsmp universe and everyone still does it despite everything else going on. everyone's actively encouraged to watch each other's streams; the difference from real life streams, though, is that they're all in character no matter the content.

[ c!tommy has probably released a " prison visit vlog - finally getting closure! " stream, in which there was like a 30-minute long segment where he argued about not being able to vlog the visit itself to sam, and ended up grumpily raiding sam nook's " 10 hour hotel grind " where he stood, unmoving, for hours on end with the exception of random instances of the typical dialogue lines to random passersby ]

#captain puffy #hannahxxrose #dream smp #dream smp fanart #if you read to the end . . . why #fuck i just realised that the bandana is coloured wrong at the end #uh ignore that pee ell zee #all my art thingx

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creepypasta-archive · 3 years ago

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Born of Science: Jane The Killer

by TheLadyBlackWolf

This story documents, once and for all, the origin story of Jane Richardson, AKA the Original Jane The Killer, after an alternative origin story based on "Jane's Letter" took life on its own (AKA Jane Everlasting)

This tale takes a complete left turn in comparison with other stories and includes some sort of SCP-like corporation onto the universes, which future stories will also contain. It also requires of a future story and a lot of guessing to inject as part of the timeline, as 2002 is way before the Jeff's origin. So yeah, this story hangs on the existance of in-universe Time Travel.

CW// body alteration, eye horror, murder, blood, capitalism

Click below to read the original unedited story

2002 was never a good year for Jane Richardson. Losing both of her parents to Jeff the Killer, tackling a job at IHOP as a waitress, with barely enough money to get by on, and being both mother and father to her little sister Jessie, who was 13 years old during that time. Jane's aunt Samantha Engle graciously helped out her nieces as far as money was concerned, so it wasn't a total loss for Jane. After all, Samantha was Paula's sister, and after her death, Samantha felt it was right to take care of her sister's daughters. One day, while Jane was working her usual shift at IHOP and on her break, she came across an ad in the newspaper sponsored by her local blood bank. In the ad, it was said that the person would be paid $150.00 for their distribution. But they had to be a really healthy blood type in order to qualify. $150.00 just for giving blood? Was this too good to be true?

Jane thought it would be good to take that money and pay off her month's rent. So why not? After all, she did have clean blood. Without hesitation, Jane wrote the address of the local blood bank down, plus the phone number, finished off her orange juice and went back to work. Another waitress, Alexis, who was covering for Jane noticed her mood was more optimistic and appeared more pleasant as usual, refilling other customer's drinks.

"Well, someone is really happy today." Alexis said.

"Why wouldn't I be? I found an easy way to pay off my month's rent." Jane replied, pouring a fresh cup of coffee for a random man.

"Thanks." the man said.

"Oh yeah? What?" Alexis asked.

"The blood bank is offering $150.00 for anyone giving blood-- you had to have healthy blood it said." Jane said.

"Whoa. I never heard of that, Janie. Usually, they'd pay you 25 bucks." Alexis replied, refilling a customer's soda.

"Somehow, they must have made a few changes." Jane said, chuckling.

"You gonna swing by?" Alexis asked.

"After I leave here tonight." Jane replied.

Jane and her friend worked on through the night until the atmosphere of this IHOP was calm, laid back, and less rushed. The lights of the shopping center where the restaurant was shined through the windows, random cars on the highway passed by in the distance, motorists who were looking for a bite to eat, getting off work, or going home sat the mood for this particularly lazy California night. KTLA News 5 was giving a report of the LAPD still pursuing Jeffrey Woods aka Jeff the Killer, the one responsible for the murder of Jane's parents. The police commissioner said that they were having a hard time catching the suspect and had to enlist the aid of the FBI, CIA, and Department of Justice in their manhunt. It would make Jane feel better to not only have Jeff captured, but wiped off the face of the earth entirely. One of the customers in IHOP that Jane noticed was a man in his late 40s, with short brown hair, a goat-e, sunglasses, and wearing a black three-piece suit and tie, crisply pressed. He looked like Walter White with hair. Another distinguishing feature about this man was a blue tooth ear piece hanging on his left ear lobe. He browsed through the menu, and surveyed the employees. He paid close attention to Jane, almost as if she was a famous person.

"Hello, sir. What can I get you tonight?" Jane asked, smiling.

"T-Bone Steak & Eggs." the man said.

"How do you want your steak?"

"Well-done, eggs over-easy."

"Well-done, over-easy... Oh, I just wanted to let you know that we have a new pomegranate pancake syrup. Something I happened to make in my free time!" Jane replied, taking the man's order.

"Wow, that sounds like a winner. You made the syrup?" the man asked.

"Well, yes." Jane said, cheerfully.

"You got a lot of talent." the man replied.

Jane went back into the kitchen to get the man's food prepared. While he was waiting, he fumbled with a button on his ear piece.

"We found the perfect woman, sir." the man said, speaking at a low volume. This man was actually an FBI agent. Agent Marcus East was still hunting down Jeff the Killer. Despite the LAPD's futile efforts and Agent East's determination, he was gonna stop at nothing until Jeff was captured.

"Excellent. Gather the other agents for next week...We know of a way to go after Jeffrey Woods..."

"Understood..."

Jane brought out East's meal and a fresh cup of coffee.

"Thank you very much, ma'am." Agent East said pleasantly.

"You are certainly welcome, sir." Jane replied.

An hour later, Jane clocked out and left for the night.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Alexis." Jane said.

"See ya, Janie." Alexis replied.

After 30 minutes of being on the road, Jane came across the blood bank. She expected the building to be closed for the night, but oddly, it was open. This must have been a 24-hour deal. The outside of the building looked like total shit, but the interior was very pristine and sterile, similar to a doctor's office. Jane approached the receptionist at the desk and announced she was there to give blood.

"Good evening, ma'am. How can I help you?" The receptionist asked in a warm, friendly tone, smiling.

"I came across your ad, saying that you would pay anyone $150.00 for simply giving blood."

"Wonderful. What's your name, dear?" the receptionist asked.

"Jane Richardson."

"Okay, Miss Richardson... You go down the hall, second door on your right." The receptionist said.

"Do I have to sign any papers or anything?"

"No."

"Oh, thank God." Jane replied, laughing heartily. The receptionist laughed along with Jane.

"I'll have your cash ready for you when you get done, honey." the receptionist said, smiling.

Jane did indeed have healthy clean blood. O Negative was her blood type. After what seemed like hours, but only a few minutes, the doctor who extracted Jane's blood put a bandage over her spot and wished her a good night. Out front, the receptionist was going through files on her computer when she saw Jane.

"Man, that needle hurt like hell." Jane said, chuckling.

"Your arm is gonna feel sore for a day or two." The receptionist said.

"Tell me about it."

"Okay, here is your cash, Miss Richardson. $150.00."

"This will take care of my month's rent." Jane replied.

"Behind on your rent, huh?" The receptionist asked.

"Lot of stuff that's been going on, me losing both of my parents and all..." Jane said.

"Aw, I'm so sorry."

"It's just me and my little sister. I have to be both mom and dad to her."

"Well, my condolences go out to you and your sister, Jane." The receptionist said, sympathetically.

"Thanks, that means a lot."

"You have a wonderful night, sweetie. Stay safe."

"You too."

The following morning, Jane was able to pay her month's rent and wouldn't have to worry about it until next month. While working the day shift at IHOP, Jane got a call from the blood bank she visited just the other night. What could it be?

"Thank you for calling IHOP, now serving pomegranate pancake syrup and our new stuffed French toast. This is Jane Richardson, how may I help you?"

"Miss Richardson?"

"This is she."

"My name is Beth Williams, one of the doctors at the Bio-Medics Blood Bank. We were wondering if you could come by next week to give another sample of your blood?"

"Um, okay?"

"We will pay you $10,000 dollars."

Jane went silent for a few seconds. Ten grand for another sample of her blood? Was this for real?

"Miss Richardson...are you there?"

"Oh...yeah. I'm here. You said...ten...thousand, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Okay, I'll see you next week."

"Thank you so much, Miss Richardson. We will see you soon. Bye."

"Bye-bye."

[Hangs up phone]

It was the start of a beautiful day in the City of Angels. Jane returned to the Bio-Medics blood bank to distribute her blood and score an easy ten grand. She wouldn't have to worry about money troubles ever again. But why was Bio-Medics going to pay Jane $10, 000 dollars? She couldn't figure it out herself, but if it meant to put that money into an account and making sure her and her sister were financially secure, then why not? Jane saw the same receptionist from last time, and still remembered her, and the doctor who drew her blood was there as well. When it was all over, Jane claimed her cash, stuffed it into her wallet and was on her way. Just as she was about to get into her car, a couple of well-dressed women approached her. One of them flashed her CIA badge and announced:

"Jane Richardson?"

"Yeah?"

"Agent Tanya Margolis, CIA."

"What's going on?" Jane asked very puzzled.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Miss Richardson. Don't worry. But I was wondering if you would come with us."

"Where at, exactly?"

"You will see. Come with us." the second agent said.

Without hesitation, Jane got into the limo with the other agents. Where were they taking her? Why did they choose Jane? Was there any significance? The two women were taking Jane to the CIA headquarters in Los Angeles, and they were going to explain everything to her as soon as they arrived. Ninety minutes later, the limo arrived outside of the headquarters. Jane noticed there was also a U.S. Marshals and FBI van parked outside. What was this all about? Jane couldn't figure out what the hell was going on. No matter how many times she asked the agents, it was always the same "That information is classified." Jane wanted answers. She wanted to know what was going on. Once inside, Jane was greeted by a refreshing cold breeze that seemed to be coming from the central air units. It was the hottest day ever. Jane was lead to a room that looked like a police interrogation area. There inside was another male agent. Jane sat.

"Welcome, Jane. We've been expecting you." the agent said.

"You mind telling me what the hell is going on?" Jane asked very suspiciously.

"Not at all. First off, I just wanna say, I'm sorry for the loss of your parents. I know how much you loved them. I take it you heard that the LAPD has been having a difficult time pursuing your parents' assailant, Jeffrey Woods..."

"Jeff the Killer?"

"Exactly. We also got in touch with the FBI, U.S. Department of Justice, and the U.S. Marshals and they are gonna see to it that Jeff is stopped once and for all."

"But what does this have to do with me?"

"After receiving word of your blood transferal at Bio-Medics, it is apparent that you are the perfect blood time and maybe the key to stopping Jeffrey Woods."

"So, let me get this straight," Jane said, trying to piece together what the agent said, "After I gave my blood, you and these other agency guys want to use me to stop that son of a bitch Jeff?"

"Yes, ma'am. All you have to do is meet with our doctors..."

"Just... meet up with the doctors?" Jane asked.

"Yes, ma'am." the agent replied.

"And then I'm free to go?"

"In due time, I promise you."

"Well...okay." Jane said, hesitantly.

After she was lead into another room, one doctor did an eye scan of her ice blue eye after giving her a vision test, reading an eye chart, etc. The scan of her pretty blue eye was stored into the computer. Next doctor to examine her was a cardiologist. Following a few brief questions such as her date of birth, height, weight, that sort of thing, Jane had her blood pressure checked, which was 120 over 80. The normal blood pressure for a healthy young lady.

"Very good." the cardiologist said.

He checked her heart beat and asked her to breath when using his stethoscope. The cardiologist wrote down everything. Next, a general practitioner was to examine Jane. Checking her eyes, ears, throat, testing her reflexes, you name it. Jane passed with flying colors. Jane thought that she was going to leave this building with no problem and be on her way, but when she was lead down a hallway by two guards, she noticed in one of the rooms, stretchers lined up with blankets covering the bodies. A total of 25 people, all young women. Dead. What was going on here? She started to get freaked out at the sight of the lifeless women who haven't been disposed of and anxiously asked where the guards were taking her. They refused to answer. So, out of instinct she began to assault the guards, incapacitating one of them. Her fighting skills she learned from Mary's father Sheriff Nick, really paid off. In the midst of the brutal melee, Jane was tackled and sedated by one of the doctors. Her world began to blur and fade...black.

[Jane groaning]

"W... W-Where am I?" Jane asked, coming to.

She was strapped to a chair similar to what you'd see in a dentist's office. Around her, the room looked like an operating theater, bathed in a bright white light which gave the room a clean appearance. Jane couldn't see anybody because all that was in the room with her, facing towards her was a two-way mirror. She felt something on her forehead that was similar to a headband, but saw electrodes and wires running away from her. Her hands and feet were secured in place. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't break free. A few seconds later, she heard an unknown female voice on the intercom. It must have been that of an agent, researcher, or scientist.

"Miss Richardson, can you hear me?" the voice asked, almost sympathetically.

"Who's there?"

"It's me, Dr. Beth Williams from Bio-Medics. I didn't want to have you find out the hard way, but... some of these agents and government officials tell me you have a very healthy blood type, and from what I could gather, they were correct. If you are wondering, it was me who sedated you. I did not drag you into the room which you are in, dear. I can assure you. I will be standing by to monitor your vitals through this process." Dr. Williams said.

"What are you talking about?"

"Jane," Agent Margolis said, "We brought you here because you are the perfect blood type, and also the candidate for the following experiment that's been funded by the U.S. Government, totaling in at $6.9 million dollars. We have received word from the LAPD that they had trouble in capturing the suspect responsible for the death of your parents Bruce and Paula, and we, along with the FBI, Department of Justice, and the U.S. Marshals agreed to help in the capture of Jeffrey Woods. If you haven't noticed, there is an intravenous needle in your arm. One of the scientists will be bringing in the serum to replace with your blood. This serum is classified, but it will ultimately help you in getting revenge on the one who took your parents' lives..."

Just then, a scientist and doctor came into the room, prepping Jane. The scientist came in with the Liquid Hate. The container was a gallon and a quarter with a biohazard symbol on it. The light from overhead casted in the liquid giving off a pretty glowing purple. The doctor who came in was there to make sure everything was ready and to monitor Jane's safety. He assured her she had nothing to be afraid of and that she was gonna be okay afterwards. This made Jane feel somewhat better. A part of her was scared to death, but the other half of her showed no fear and she was ready. The doctor put the intravenous tube into Jane's arm. The one tube ran into a container that would collect Jane's blood, and shipped to the American Red Cross for patients who had the same blood type as Jane, and to receive a healthy blood transfusion. The other tube was attached to the container holding the Liquid Hate. So in a way, this was just like an embalming fluid prep setup, but with an experimental liquid. Despite being reassured by medical personnel that she had nothing to be scared of, a single tear ran down her face.

The process began. The voices that Jane heard, the scientists, the government officials, FBI, CIA Agents, U.S. Marshals, researchers, began to sound distant. If something were to happen to her, she would see her deceased parents. On the other side of the two-way mirror, doctors were monitoring Jane's vitals, her heart and brainwaves, etc. Her heart was beating at a steady pace, showing the EKG beeping, the readings of the EEG, showing normal brain activity. Jane saw her blood being drained slowly, this didn't bother her at first... but as it began to increase, she felt very weak and drowsy, almost like she was being smothered by an unknown person with an ether-soaked rag, and in the next few minutes, Jane's surroundings began to disappear. First, into a state of unconsciousness and weakness from loss of blood in her body...then...dead. The heart monitor in the other room flat-lined, the EEG went flat... for that moment, Jane was clinically dead.

Jane felt a gentle, familiar hand on her face, caressing her. It was her mother, Paula. She opened her eyes, and despite being deceased for over a few minutes, she was still in the room. Her father, Bruce, was there as well...

"Mom?"

"Don't be afraid, Janie...Mommy's here." Paula cooed sweetly. She saw Jane's eyes welling up with tears and held her daughter in her arms, tightly, comforting her.

"Dad..."

Bruce gave Jane a kiss on her head as he joined in to hold his child as well. Jane was weeping as she was glad to see her parents.

"You're going to be okay, kiddo... You're going to be just fine." Bruce said softly, calming his daughter down. He was in full military dress, his medals shining in the light of the room Jane was in. His uniform was crisply pressed, his short hair shiny and brushed back. Almost as if he was going to attend a military ball.

"What is going on?!" Jane asked.

"Well, since those doctors emptied your body, you went out like a light... But me and Daddy are gonna stay here until you come alive, honey."

Paula said in her soft-spoken voice, her words soothing Jane's heart.

"One thing I could never stand about IV needles is when someone can't find a vein to put it in. That happened to me when I was a little kid and I suffered sepsis, and I felt like fricken swiss-cheese. That old hag couldn't put the needle in right. You should've known that having experience as a doctor and a pHd doesn't come with vision." Bruce said, smiling, laughing. This made Jane smile and giggle as she laughed with her daddy. She knew for the longest time that her daddy was very silly and made her laugh without even trying, and was still a goof-ball in the afterlife. That's also what Paula loved about her husband. Jane's parents stayed with her until the Liquid Hate was administered.

"Your father couldn't stand needles being poked into him at all, honey. But getting like an allergy shot or vaccine, that didn't bother him. It was an intravenous needle that got on his nerves. Even when he was little, he fainted at the sight of a big needle." Paula said, chuckling.

"Hey, that thing was big!" Bruce replied comically.

"I know I'm gonna feel sore and stiff when I get up..." Jane said.

"Considering the chair you're in, I wouldn't be surprised, honey." Paula replied.

"I think tonight, you should take a nice hot bath with some Epsom Salts." Bruce said, caressing Jane's hair.

"Good idea." Jane replied.

"You just remember one thing, my little Janie-baby, if you ever need me or Daddy, we will be right here." Paula said, pointing to Jane's heart.

"And we will come live in your dreams, sweetheart." Bruce added, smiling.

"We are so proud of you. Jessie's lucky to have such a sweet sister. We will always be watching over you, love." Paula said sweetly.

"We love you, Jane." Bruce said.

"Oh, the purple stuff is about finished." Paula said, pointing to the Liquid Hate that was half-way empty.

"I love you, Mommy. I love you, Daddy." Jane said, giving her parents a hug before they returned to Heaven.

"We love you, too, Janie." Paula replied, giving her daughter one final kiss goodbye.

Jane slowly regained consciousness and came to. The EKG and EEG roared back to life, showing heart and brain activity, her vitals appearing normal. As her vision adjusted, she saw she was still in the operating theater. When she looked down, she noticed her hands were now ivory white, she was pale like a corpse. She screamed over the loss of her natural skin pigmentation and saw that her once-bright platinum blond hair was now coal black. She tried to break free from the restraints, thinking that she would fail, but somehow, with now-increased strength ripped both of the restraints off and jerked the wires off her head. She tore the leg restraints away and got up out of the chair. She looked towards the two-way mirror, now in a violent, angry, homicidal rage hollered:

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME?!"

"She's going to experience violent episodes and homicidal tendencies for the first 90 seconds..." One of the scientists said to the group.

"You are now full of Liquid Hate, Miss Richardson." Agent Margolis said.

"I LOOK LIKE FUCKING POWDER!!!"

"That's because your natural skin color went away, Jane."

Jane picked up a chair that was in the room and threw it against the two-way mirror, shattering the glass. She grabbed a hold of one of the doctors who were monitoring her vitals by the collar, slamming him against the wall with incredible strength, causing a huge dent. One of the scientists sounded an alarm for armed guards and medical personnel to restrain Jane. One pulled out a syringe, trying to aim for Jane's neck, but Jane took the needle and stabbed the doctor between the eyes and injected an air bubble into him. Two guards with automatic weapons tried to fire at Jane, but she grabbed both of their arms, causing them to fire at each other. One agent fired at Jane, but the bullet didn't phase her a bit. The wound automatically and quickly healed up. She approached the agent who was still firing multiple shots at Jane, and snapped his wrist into, showing fractured bones and blood spurting everywhere. An orderly, standing in at 6' 5", 300+ lbs, tackled Jane, attempting to subdue her, but Jane had the upper hand, flipped him over on his side, and snapped him neck into. Just as carnage continued, Jane took the now-empty liquid hate container, broke it against the ground, took a sharp glass shard, and stabbed to death one of the agents. Her clothes now stained with blood. Amidst the dead, broken, mutilated, bullet-riddled bodies and those who were out cold, Jane looked at the group who was in the room that now had no mirror and said in an ominous tone...

"Thank you for saving me. Thank you for making me what I am. I know now what I must do. I must kill Jeffrey Woods and end his reign of terror forever. If he is not killed, more lives will be lost. I am much stronger now, I am unstoppable, unkillable. Weapons are useless against me. Anyone who dares crosses me, I will be the last thing they will ever see. I will kill Jeff the Killer...and no one can stop me."

After 90 seconds, Jane's homicidal tendencies ceased and she was acting normal again. The same doctors who were examining her wanted to do X-Rays, MRI scans, and the final examination on her. Jane stood naked as the day she was born as physicians didn't see any abnormal changes. No defects. She was even more beautiful despite the fact that she was pale white with black eyes.

"Okay, Miss Richardson...I want you to read what is on this chart right here..." an eye doctor said.

"E-F-P-T-O-Z-L-P-E-D-P-E-D-F-C-Z-P-F-E-L-O-P-Z-D-1-2-3-4-5-6-7. Printed by Century City Optometry, 10250 Santa Monica, Blvd, Suite 170, Los Angeles, California, 90067."

The eye doctor was flabbergasted that Jane read everything down to the fine print. He took a magnifying glass and saw the address and company name at the bottom of the eye test chart."

"Ummm...Wow..." he said, dumbfounded.

"So, doc, are there any other tests today or can I just walk out of here and be on my way?...Well, are you gonna give me another visual test or just stand there and stare at me all day?"

"Um, I'm just gonna stand here and stare at you all day." the eye doctor said, seeing Jane fully naked.

"So, I'll take that as a 'you are free to go?'"

"Yeah..."

Jane took her blood-stained clothes that were in a hospital bag and walked out fully nude, not caring that people are looking at her. On her way home, she saw clothes that were hanging out to dry on a clothes line outside a little suburban home. These clothes matched her frame. There were a pair of black sweat pants, a sleeveless black under armor shirt, and a black hoodie. They all smelled sweet as she pulled them off the clothes line and got dressed in broad daylight. The only article of clothing that weren't blood-stained were her black Skecher's sneakers. She slipped on her socks and shoes and called Jessie, and told her she was okay... Jessie waited back at home for her sister to return.

Also, Mary was waiting. Jessie immediately ran into her big sister's arms, gasping emotionally, giving her a big hug. Mary hugged both Jessie and Jane and gave her honey bunny a kiss on the lips.

"Baby, I'm so glad you're okay... I was so worried." Mary said, emotionally, glad that Jane was alright.

"I knew you would come back..." Jessie said through tears of joy.

"Of course I did..." Jane replied, giving her little sister a hug, still emotional.

Jeff has some competition... so as many other criminals out there...

Don't go to sleep, you won't wake up...

Jane the Killer is coming for you!

#jeff the killer #jane the killer #jtk #jane richardson #creepypasta #horror #story #fanfiction

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gravelyhumerus · 4 years ago

Text

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter Ten

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Total word count: 47,939

Summary:

Emily tries apple cider, things get corny, Spencer wins a prize, and the night ends with a kiss.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months. Takes place over the span of the first semester of their sophomore year.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

“See, I told you it was good,” JJ grinned up at Emily, adjusting the blue scarf that was wrapped tightly around her own neck against the cool air.

Emily licked her lips as she held a paper cup filled to the brim with apple cider tightly in her hands.

“Ok fine,” Emily admitted, “You were right, cider is good.”

JJ watched as she took another sip, as a smile spread across her face at the taste. JJ knew she was right, that apple cider at a fall fair always tasted better than anything from the grocery store.

The two of them walked across the leaf-strewn grass, trailing behind their friends to talk. When JJ had told Penelope about her conversation with Emily about how the girl had never been to a fall fair, her roommate insisted that they rally the troops to make it happen.

Both JJ and Emily still had a lingering cough, but other than that, they had just about made a full recovery. Somehow, the others had escaped coming down with the same thing, and so all of them were able to make the trek to the other side of their college town to attend the fair. JJ had the day off from soccer, a rare thing these days with playoffs imminent, and during essay season, and she intended to make the most of it.

JJ kept catching Emily looking at her. It was the same way that a wild animal would look at her if she was offering food, nervous, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She could tell something was bothering her. But knew the more she probed, the more Emily would shut down.

She wondered if Emily felt awkward after sleeping in her bed, and worried that she had pushed things too far. JJ had been forward, and felt slightly guilty about that, but in her own feverish state, her sole focus had been to make sure Emily was alright. JJ reminded herself that Emily was here, and hadn’t run from her despite all that had happened. She could take a slightly closed-down Emily over none at all, any day.

The fair itself was located on a farm on the outskirts of the city. Their school had arranged for a shuttle bus to facilitate this wholesome entertainment for their undergrads. It deposited them on a muddy grass field filled with carnival games, a midway, vendors and miscellaneous fall themed activities.

Golden leaves shone in the sunlight, and JJ raised her face to feel its warmth. It was a nice day, the first after weeks of rain. Her wool sweater was more for the fall festivities than for warmth, as it was pleasant outside, but she knew once the sun set she would be grateful for it.

Emily was looking as beautiful as ever, wearing a maroon turtleneck underneath a black corduroy jacket that looked soft to the touch. Her lips matched, painted with a dark purple-red hue that made her look elegant and mysterious.

She hoped that today would be fun for Emily, knowing that the girl missed out on a lot of the childhood staples of the average American, and JJ wanted to rectify it. Hopefully it would also ease some of the tension between them as well.

JJ gasped when she saw the petting zoo near the entrance, which was a spacious zone filled with chickens, goats, two llamas, some sheep, cows, and most importantly, the most beautiful horse she’d seen in ages. It was, in fact, the only horse she’d seen up close since that summer, and it was quite scruffy up close.

In her excitement, she found herself reaching out her hand, grasping Emily’s and pointing as she exclaimed: “Horse!”

She internally cringed at her own behaviour, but Emily looked excitedly where she pointed and followed at her side as she veered towards the animals.

The horse was a brown gelding, with a black mane and a stripe down his nose. As JJ approached he leaned his head over the fence in anticipation of some treats. Slowing down, JJ approached, still hand in hand with Emily, quietly and calmly so that she didn’t startle him.

His brown eyes watched her, his ears forward and relaxed, and leaned into her outstretched hand as she reached to pet his nose. JJ’s cold bare hand met warm horse face and her mind flashed back to all the times she rode her grandmother’s horse as a kid.

“He looks like Socks,” JJ giggled, as the horse tried to nibble gently at her sweater, “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

“Socks?” Emily asked, with a quizzical look on her face, keeping distance between her and the horse.

The others caught up with them, milling about the petting zoo and interacting with the various animals. Derek and Penelope bought some feed with a quarter from the dispenser and used the flat of their hands to feed some sheep.

“One of my grandma’s horses,” JJ explained, “His name was Socks. He was her favourite and when she got too old to ride, I would.”

“You ride horses?” Emily asked.

“Not that well,” JJ admitted, “But Socks was patient with me.”

Noticing Emily’s hesitance, JJ smiled at her, trying to reassure her friend.

“Do you want to pet him?”

Emily nodded. JJ guided her hand onto his neck, leading her as she stroked it gently. A look of awe crossed Emily’s face and JJ couldn’t help but giggle at the sight.

JJ removed her hand and let Emily take over, watching as the horse nuzzled Emily, taking great interest in her hair. JJ reached her hand out—and just in time—moved his mouth away just as he attempted to take a mouthful.

“Don’t be rude,” JJ exclaimed, guiding his face away from her friends hair, “That’s not for you.”

Emily’s jaw had dropped, holding onto her hair in horror.

“They do that sometimes,” JJ explained.

Emily nodded sagely before nervously returning to give him another pat, her reservations clear on her face.

“Why Socks?” Emily asked, after a moment.

“He had white marks on his legs,” she explained, “They looked like socks.”

“Seems reasonable,” she said.

The crew left the petting zoo and walked towards the carnival games area. A wave of nostalgia hit JJ like a truck. Every fall when she was a kid, she and her sister would always beg her for their parents to take them to the fair, insisting that they play all of the games and go on the rides multiple times. In retrospect, it probably cost a ton of money which they definitely could not afford, but her parents would hand them a stack of tickets and let themselves be dragged around the fair by the two girls.

JJ closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of popcorn, funnel cake and corn dogs—not altogether an entirely pleasant smell—but one that brought her back to being six years old and walking hand-in-hand with her sister.

Emily knocked their shoulders lightly, the motion bringing JJ back into the present, locking eyes with Emily.

She couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that this was Emily’s first fall fair. The other girl looked onto the attractions with apprehension, gawking at the sheer mass of fried food and the loud rides and hordes of people swarming the games.

“These games are all rigged,” JJ explained. “They’re next to impossible to win.”

“But you can win,” Emily said, a challenge in her voice.

JJ nodded.

“I’ve seen some folks walking around with that bear at least,” JJ gestured at a fuzzy brown teddy bear that sat on the top shelf of the dart game’s prize shelf. Other prizes included dangling stuffed snakes and some other plastic toys.

“It’s cute,” Emily commented, smiling up at the bear.

JJ smiled as her whole group went head to head on the water gun game, lined up in a row and shooting at the targets as if they were at a shooting range. Each played the game with the focus and determination as if it were a life or death situation, and not a carnival game.

After, they all spread out around the stalls of games, competing with each other or going it alone as they played games that interested them.

Emily’s smile kept crossing JJ’s mind as the games wore on, and the thought of that bear stuck in her mind. It’s cute, Emily had said. JJ could get it for her. She was great at darts.

JJ circled back to the dart game, slamming a five dollar bill on the table and getting a handful of darts. She tossed one. The balloon popped. Another. Pop. Another. Pop. She hit every single one she threw.

This was harder than it looked, as the balloons were barely filled, it needed a lot of force, and a wicked aim to pop them. JJ, luckily, had both.

“Pick something from the first shelf,” the employee told her.

JJ frowned, looking at the fluorescent stuffed animals on the first row. They looked cheap, and none were as cute as the bear, which sat between a monkey and a rabbit on the top shelf.

“How do I get the bear?” she asked.

“Win again,” he said, with an apathetic shrug. He was just a teenager, probably only getting paid minimum wage. JJ couldn’t help but glower at him.

JJ sighed, paying him for another round. She knew that the toy itself was worthless, but it wasn’t about that. It was about winning it for Emily.

“What are you doing?” A voice asked her from behind as she lined up her next shot.

Spencer. He was standing to her right, clutching a plastic bag in his hands. He wore a pair of sunglasses and smiled awkwardly in greeting.

“Darts,” JJ answered, “What does it look like?”

She looked at the bag. It was clear and filled with water, with a small goldfish swimming around inside.

“You won a fish?” JJ asked.

“Yup,” Spencer said, gesturing over at a game that was essentially beer pong, but instead of cups full of alcohol, it was a series of fish tanks.

He explained that he had won on his first try, and now was a proud owner of a goldfish. JJ was certain it would die before they got back to residence, but decided not to burst his bubble. The kid was smiling at his fish, looking proud of himself.

JJ turned back to the game and focused on an orange balloon that waved in the wind. She threw. Hit. The balloon popped.

“I just want that damned bear,” JJ hissed, gripping the dart tight in her hand.

“Why?” Spencer asked, his forehead furrowed.

“Why” was a great question! For my not-girlfriend because I’m just such a good friend, was the answer, but she wasn’t going to say that . Because I want her to like me, and I want her to date me, but I can’t work up the courage to ask her. Because she might be gay, but might not, and I haven’t even asked her that. Because all I want is for her to smile.

JJ sighed.

“I want to win it for Emily, ok?” JJ said.

“You could buy her a nicer bear if you wanted with this money,” he pointed out.

“I know,” JJ said, aiming her dart. Another hit. “I just have to hit three more and then I win.”

JJ was being pointedly obtuse, she knew if she began to explain, it would all come rushing out. She could handle Penelope’s teasing, but that was her limit.

Spencer began to speak, but she shushed him. She threw another. Hit. The balloon popped with a satisfying pop. Two more.

Reid held his fish up to his face, examining it close up. Just as she was about to throw her last shot, she felt a hand clap her on the back in the unmistakable gesture of Derek Morgan greeting her.

“What’re we playing, kids?” he asked.

“JJ wants the bear,” Spencer informed him. “For Emily.”

Derek grinned at her. JJ ignored both of them, squinting at a bright red balloon and taking her aim.

Pop. She did it. Both Derek and Spencer cheered for her, despite their earlier misgivings. JJ slapped the metal barrier between her and the employee in glee as he nodded approvingly at her achievement.

The employee used a telescopic grabber to lift the bear off a tall shelf and handed it to her with a smile.

She hugged the bear to her chest, elated with her accomplishment despite Derek’s probing looks. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with Emily’s best friend these days. He seemed to know something that she didn’t, and she caught him smiling at her and Emily when they spoke.

JJ was relieved when he shifted his attention to discussing the logistics of goldfish ownership with Reid.

The three of them wandered through the stalls, taking a break for Reid and Morgan to pick up candy apples, then ran back into the rest of the group. Penelope, Hotch, Rossi and Emily were still at the water gun booth, cheering Emily on as she played against a boy that looked like he was about their age.

A bell rang, and a light flashed over Emily’s head. She had won.

JJ walked up behind her, watching as Emily got to point out her prize. She pointed to the exact same bear as JJ had tucked behind her back.

“JJ will love it,” Penelope said to Emily, neither girl knowing that JJ was right behind them.

“Love what?” JJ said, confused.

Emily turned around looking at JJ, clutching the bear to her chest.

“Uh, you said you saw these bears around,” Emily said, “I thought you might want one.”

Derek and Spencer both burst into laughter, as JJ felt blush creep over her face. Emily held the bear out to her, with a shy look on her face. To her left, Penelope’s jaw had dropped and both Hotch and Rossi’s usually serious expressions were filled with bemusement.

JJ pulled out the bear from behind her back and presented it to Emily. Both girls were holding identical bears out to each other, each having independently decided to win it for the other.

“This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Penelope squealed.

JJ and Emily exchanged identical bears, both feeling quite silly. JJ was speechless, simply grinning at Emily, who smiled down at her.

Hotch broke the silence after a minute, pointing to what was in Spencer’s hand. “Is that a fish?”

“We should do the corn maze next!” Penelope squealed, pointing at the painted wooden sign leading towards a field with what looked like an endless maze.

“Mazes are actually quite simple,” Reid said, “You have to hug the right side wall for the duration of the maze and you will eventually reach the exit. It beats getting hopelessly lost in the hopes of entertainment.”

“That’s one way to do it,” Hotch commented, looking over to a smirking Rossi.

“Come on Reid,” Derek chastised, throwing an arm around his shoulder, “You couldn’t possibly think that’s the best way of doing it.

“How do you suggest we should approach it?” Spencer asked as he shrugged Derek’s arm off of him.

“You gotta get a feel for it,” Derek replied. “Remember where you came from.”

Spencer made a non committal noise.

“Getting lost comes with the territory,” Derek added, “It’s part of the fun.”

Emily gave him a look, but didn’t contribute to the debate.

“You won’t be saying that when you’re lost, cold and surrounded by corn,” Spencer retorted.

“He’s got a point about the corn,” Hotch quipped.

“I’ve never seen this much corn in my life,” Emily admits, “I haven’t spent much time around farms.”

Emily touched her hair absentmindedly,reminded of the horse trying to eat it from earlier in the afternoon. “Aren’t you a farmgirl, JJ?” Derek teased.

“No!” she said, “I lived in the suburbs near Pittsburgh. She lived an hour away so we’d visit on the weekends and on holidays.”

“They had cows!” Penelope blurted, “She showed me pictures once. They’re so cute as babies.”

JJ nodded, she loved visiting her grandma when she was little. She and Ros would be allowed to collect the eggs in the morning, and JJ always loved grabbing hay for the horses.

“What’s your take on mazes?” Derek asked her, “Oh farm girl?”

JJ punched his shoulder in retaliation.

“I say that you two should put your money where your mouth is,” JJ said, “See whose method works in the end.”

“You talking about a race?” Derek asked.

“That seems only fair,” Emily said, “Since both of you have such strong opinions on how to go about tackling this maze. Let’s see who’s right.”

“Shall we split up?” Hotch asked.

“Very Scooby-Doo of you, sir,” Penelope cooed, “I like it.”

Hotch did not acknowledge this beyond a glare.

As they approached the maze entrance, a teenage girl, a bit younger than them and wearing a green shirt branded with the name of the farm handed them a map and began to explain the rules of the maze. No smoking, drinking, cheating by ducking under the red ribbon that marked the paths, she told them.

She then offered them a map, a black and white printout that marked out the route.

“No thanks,” Derek said in a haughty tone, “We’ll figure it out ourselves.”

“I legally have to give it to you,” the girl said, her braces giving her a slight lisp. “It’s a safety issue.”

Derek and Spencer looked at each other, each taking a map, but folding it up and placing it in their pockets. Hotch also took a map, as did Emily.

“I call dibs on Der-bear,” Penelope said, wrapping her arms around his bicep. “And JJ will go with Emily of course.”

“I’ll follow the wall,” Hotch says, “Reid, you better be right about this wall thing.”

Rossi looked around and seemed to decide to see whether the boy-genius was onto something or not.

JJ felt a little shy at the assumption that she and Emily would naturally be together. Penelope was getting more and more bold with her attitude towards the two girls.

The teams set out into the maze, splitting up at the first fork in the road, the boys staying right, Derek and Penelope heading straight ahead, and JJ and Emily veering left.

“What do you think of your first fair?” JJ asked, fiddling with the stuffed bear in her hands.

They trudged through the muddy maze, with the sound of the fair in the distance, a pleasant hum of music and the clamour of the rides.

“It’s not what I expected,” Emily said, “I only really saw this stuff in movies.”

“Better or worse than you imagined?” she asked.

“Better,” Emily said, “but that’s probably just the company.”

“Good friends make a difference,” JJ said.

“Yeah,” she agreed, “friends.”

JJ hummed, smiling as she felt the breeze in her hair. She loved the outdoors. She spent way too much time cooped up in the library these days. Emily, on the other hand, was picking her way through, careful not to step in any puddles or trip on fallen corn stalks.

“Left or right?” Emily asked as they neared an intersection.

“Right,” JJ said.

They headed deeper into the maze, turning left, then right, then hitting a dead end and back tracking. The corn rose above their heads, limiting their vision to a few feet in front of, and behind, them at all times.

A few times, they bickered over directions, as JJ was certain that they were walking in circles.

“How long was this supposed to take us?” Emily said, after twenty minutes passed.

“Not this long,” JJ admitted.

“Where are we?”

“I have no idea.”

She stopped, and paused waiting for Emily to do the same. JJ listened hard, straining her ears to listen for the direction of the music.

“I can’t hear the carnival anymore,” JJ said, “We must be on the far end of the maze.”

“Are we lost?” Emily asked.

“I think that’s the whole point of it,” JJ said with a laugh. “Let’s head this way.”

“Should we check the map?” Emily asked.

“Sure.”

Emily looked at JJ expectantly.

“ You took the map, Em,” JJ said with a laugh.

“No I didn’t,” Emily replied. She rifled through her pockets, then held up her hands in a gesture of: see? Nothing!

She checked her own pockets, and inside the small purse hanging over her shoulder. No map.

“You sure you don’t have it?” JJ asked, hearing the stress in her voice.

Emily’s eyes widened, checking her own pockets more frantically.

Neither had it. JJ began to laugh. Of course she’d get lost in a corn maze with Emily. Of course.

JJ’s phone pinged. Penelope had texted her.

Penny G: where are you? are you making out in the corn?

JJ: no, we’re lost. are you all done already?

Penny G: yup. Spencer was a few minutes behind us

“They’re already out,” JJ explained to Emily.

“Figures,” Emily huffed.

Penny G: we can wait for you? we’re going to try the rides

JJ: i’ll text you when we get out, go ahead

JJ slipped her phone back into her pocket, noticing Emily poking at the edge of the corn with her hands, trying to peer through.

“More corn,” Emily said, sounding defeated.

JJ thought for a second, trying to weigh their options.

“Get on my shoulders,” JJ blurted.

“What?”

“So you can see,” JJ said, “I’ll lift you up.”

Emily looked flustered for a moment, opening and closing her mouth at the thought, but eventually nodded.

JJ knelt down slightly, letting Emily put her legs on either side of her head. JJ knew she was strong. She could lift more than double her own weight at the gym. Once Emily was settled, she lifted her with ease, standing straight up and holding onto her thighs with her hands to steady Emily.

“I see, uh, a highway behind us, more fields,” Emily said, then JJ turned a bit to give her another angle, “We’re almost there. We’re on the far right side, but the path is fairly clear. We go left, then it doubles back. But I think I can get us out of here.”

JJ stumbled under Emily’s shifting weight as she turned, finding herself tilting forward before she could adjust, tipping forward and sending both girls tumbling into the corn.

Emily landed on top of JJ, their limbs tangled, with a loud “fuck!” as they made contact with the mud.

JJ sat up, rubbing the back of her head where Emily had accidentally kicked her.

“Sorry,” JJ said, “are you ok?”

Emily sat up, rubbing her wrist which caught most of her weight. Both girls had come out of the fall mostly unscathed.

“The corn broke my fall,” Emily said with a laugh.

They burst into laughter, and JJ reached out her hands to help Emily up.

The girls retrieved their bears, both unsure whose was whose, and began to make their escape from the corn.

Emily navigated them out of the maze, which, despite their tumble, made JJ’s idea worthwhile.

“I don’t think I ever want to see corn again,” Emily said as they left the maze.

“I guess you won’t have roasted corn for dinner?”

“God no.”

They laughed.

For the next hour or so, they visited the midway, braving an assortment of spinning rides that bore names like The Annihilator, and The Brain Blender, that were next to carousels and other rides clearly meant for children.

JJ had a blast, she was definitely an adrenaline junky and the rides gave her the same endorphin high as sports.

Emily was clearly nervous, but was a good sport. She took a couple rides off, claiming to need to babysit Spencer’s new fish (he decided it was too cold out for the goldfish, so he had been wrapping it in his coat to keep it warm. Emily did the same during her time as babysitter as Spencer rode the ride.)

The sun began to set, and as the sky filled with colours, the carnival lights dazzled them, glowing in a rainbow of incandescent light.

“One more ride?” Hotch asked them, as he noticed their energy fading and their stomachs growling.

“The Ferris wheel!” Penelope announced, “we have to.”

“The last Ferris wheel I was on was the London eye,” Emily commented.

“We’ll miss jet setter,” Derek replied, “this will probably be a bit less glamorous.”

They waited in line for it, laughing and goofing around. JJ smiled at her friends, while her nerves grew in her stomach. She tugged on her sister’s necklace, pulling it tight against the back of her neck to calm her.

“Hey,” Emily whispered, “what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” JJ said back, quietly. “Just a little nervous with heights.”

Emily smiled down at her, with no trace of judgment on her face, and JJ softened.

“Didn’t you just ride The Bonebreaker earlier?” Emily asked, talking about a ride that locked them in a cage, and flipped them in punishing rotations.

“Those are different,” JJ said as tucked her hair behind her ears, trying to find the words to explain. “You’re strapped in, and there’s a cage. Ferris wheels have just the bar. You’re exposed.”

“Are you good to do it?” Emily asked, concern etched into her features.

“Yeah, of course,” JJ said, setting her shoulders back and gritting her jaw. “I’m not actually scared.”

JJ forced herself to relax, making good on her promise, leaning onto the chilly metal barricade. She was so happy that her little troupe of Penelope and Spencer had expanded to include all of these new people. Their dynamic was fun, and warm, and felt… right.

“This would be a beautiful photo,” Penelope exclaimed, pulling out her phone and gesturing at the whole group to get in close.

JJ turned to face the camera, smiling wide and meaning it. Reid and Emily wrapped their arms around her shoulders, and she was squished into the big group of friends. She felt the happiest she had felt in years, despite the creeping fear building up inside her.

The line moved quickly and they were shuffled into their seats, two by two. Emily and JJ were together, like before, and soon they were slowly lifted into the sky, side by side.

“It’s beautiful,” Emily gasped.

She looked down onto the fair, leaning forward as she gazed into the quickly shrinking fairgrounds.

Emily’sbeautiful, JJ thought, looking at her friend as she looked out into the night.

“Yeah,” JJ agreed, feeling a touch of vertigo, breathing deep to keep calm.

“Thanks for bringing me,” Emily said.

JJ clutched the bear tightly, as though someone was going to take it away from her.

“I told you that you’d like it,” JJ said, focusing on Emily’s face instead of the height.

“I admit it,” Emily said. “I like apple cider. Fairs are fun. I’m a country girl now.”

“Not yet,” JJ said, “we’ll work on that.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Emily said with a smile.

The Ferris wheel slowly turned as new passengers boarded, raising them higher into the air until they were at the very top, when they stopped.

Emily leaned forward, then back, making the chair swing slightly. JJ gasped as her stomach clenched, the fear of her plummeting to her death high on her mind.

JJ realized that her hand had shot out and now rested upon Emily’s. The other girl did not pull away.

“Sorry,” Emily giggled. “I had to.”

JJ glowered at her, but knew she was kidding and wouldn’t actually put her in danger. They rested at the top of the Ferris wheel, their chair swaying slightly, hand in hand for a few minutes.

JJ shifted closer to Emily, mentally telling herself that she was doing it to get closer to the warmth. Emily leaned towards her, allowing their shoulders to meet softly.

“We’ve been at the top for awhile,” JJ said, a little nervously. “Do you think it’s stuck?”

“I can’t imagine these things get stuck,” Emily assured her, “it’s probably someone getting off or on.”

This did nothing to quell the bundle of nerves in JJ’s stomach. She clutched the bar even tighter.

“JJ look at me,” Emily said, her voice soft, but stern.

JJ complied, tearing her eyes away from the ground far below her feet and focusing on Emily, sitting right next to her, feeling her warmth radiate out from her hand.

“You’re ok,” Emily said, calmly. “Don’t worry.”

JJ believed her, knowing that whenever they were together, nothing ever seemed to go wrong.

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the world faded away. JJ got lost in her warm brown eyes that looked at her with concern. Emily had done a perfect wing of eyeliner, sharp on the corner, and covered her lid with a neutral brown eyeshadow. Emily was so beautiful. Her brows framed her eyes so perfectly, forming a graceful arch. Her cheekbones were sharp and her smile warm, but rare on the serious girl’s face. JJ took her in, relishing the moment to look unheeded.

JJ felt Emily’s grip on her hand tighten, and there was something about her eyes that beckoned her closer. JJ felt herself, acting almost on autopilot, leaning towards Emily as if she’d done it before.

Emily’s arm, which was thrown casually over the back of the chair, wrapped around JJ’s shoulders, pulling her oh so slightly closer. An invitation.

Without thinking, JJ found herself just inches from Emily, their breaths mixing as their foreheads touched.

Jennifer Jareau couldn’t believe this was happening, that Emily Prentiss, the girl across the hall, who she had been pining over for months, was probably about to kiss her.

She did not think of the billion ways this complicated their friendship, or the fact that she didn’t know if she could even handle jumping back into a relationship, or how she was thirty feet in the air on a rusty ferris wheel, all she could think about was the idea of Emily’s lips on hers.

Their lips met. Before this moment, JJ thought the phrase “sparks flying” was an exaggeration, but the electricity that she felt when Emily kissed her set JJ’s body on fire.

Her lips were soft, velvety, perfect. At first, it was chaste, with their hands nervously still holding onto the railing. Then, it deepened, lips moving slowly against the other. Emily’s hand moved from on top of hers up to her face, pulling her closer than before. JJ did the same, tangling her fingers into Emily’s black hair. Their matching stuffed bears were squished between them.

JJ’s mouth opened, and Emily’s tongue gained entrance, rubbing against JJ’s. It felt heavenly, and in that moment JJ decided that she didn’t want to do anything else in life but kiss Emily.

Their kiss was gentle, yet needy, with a passion that made JJ’s head spin. Emily’s hands rested delicately on her face, stroking her cheek, and wrapped almost protectively around her back.

The two girls only came up for breath, kissing like their life depended on it.

JJ felt her heart race, but a wave of calm washed over her. It felt like a kiss she had had a thousand times, and one she would have a thousand more. As familiar as something that she had experienced in her past lives, and something she knew she wanted to do for the rest of this one.

Suddenly, the chair rocked, and the Ferris wheel roared back to life.

They pulled apart, looking away from each other and catching their breath. JJ could feel a blush rise up her face as Emily tugged her arm out from behind JJ’s back.

Neither made eye contact as the Ferris wheel spun around, the carnival blurring out as they picked up speed.

They turned once, twice, a third time, before it slowed to a stop and people began to exit.

JJ no longer felt the acute fear of heights tug at her stomach, on the contrary, now it was the knowledge that she had just made out with her floormate weighing on her mind.

Her head was spinning and her lips tingled with the memory of the kiss. Her blood roared in her ears, as anxiety took over as her brain flashed with all of the million ways this could go terribly wrong.

Wordlessly, they dismounted and waited quietly for the rest of their group, who all babbled about how pretty the wheel was and how Derek wouldn’t stop swaying the chair. JJ scanned their faces, wondering if anyone could tell what had happened.

JJ drifted alongside the group, lost in her thoughts, unable to meet Emily’s eye, clutching her bear tightly to her chest all the way home.

#criminal minds #cm #criminal minds tv #jemily #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss x jennifer jareau #emily x jj #prentiss x jj #Jennifer John Jareau #gravelyhumerus cm college au #my post #my writing #sweater weather au #this chapters over 5k but its a good one i hope #this one lives up to the name of being my sweater weather au #dm me for tag list!!!#ill be doing one after this chapter

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softlyjiminie · 5 years ago

Text

the morning after | k.t.h

⇢ pairing(s): ex!kim taehyung x reader.

⇢ word count: 1.1K

⇢ rating: 18+, mature.

⇢ genre: angst, fluff, ex to lovers!au.

⇢ summary: one night, full of passion, whispered promises and heated kisses. one morning, full of regret and unwanted memories. is a night with your ex enough to send you running back into the arms of the devil?

⇢ warning(s): please read! angst lots, but a fluffy ending. implied smut (intoxicated.), implied infidelity, mentions of alcohol, love bites and hickies, nudity, light nipple play, breakups.

⇢ author’s note(s): hello everyone! today i bring you a short drabble in honour of 5K ! i love you all so much and thank you for sticking by me! this idea was inspired by a lovely chat with the @gguksgalaxy , i hope you survive this, gwaennie, and i hope you all enjoy! :D

this wasn’t supposed to happen, you knew, this was going to be a mistake.

you would regret this in the morning.

but you couldn’t help it, not with the way his dark eyes glinted under the street lights as he puffed away. the ring that pierced his perfect lips, you’d always loved the way it felt when he kissed you. you couldn’t resist with the way his midnight hair curled just under his brows but just before his eyes, like a curtain to shield you from the sultry desires that swirled within them.

you couldn’t help it, you never could.

kim taehyung was a black fog that couldn’t be escaped, he engulfed you whole and would leave you with nothing but a trace on your skin. too many fell victim to him and his games, oh his mind games, you promised not to be one of them. but alas, you were.

kim taehyung wanted nothing but a game, and you wanted more. you wanted lovers dances among rose painted fields and sweet kisses under milky orange skies. and for a moment, it seemed, beyond the sex and jealousy and heated passion, that he wanted the same things as you.

taehyung, wanted you.

“i’ll regret this in the morning...” you mumble into a mop of his hair, letting him push his head into the junction between your neck and your jaw. the touch of his lips is as light as a feather, pressing small kisses and little nips into your skin. he makes patterns of love against the canvas of your body and you let him. despite the regret.

taehyung lifts his head from his artwork, looking up at you with constellations in eyes. capricornus, horned goat, the stars outline in his whiskey orbs. “what was that?” he mumbles, hands gliding down your bare torso to steady your hips that straddle his. he holds you like you belong to him, like he needs you. but he won’t.

you shake your head, mind too hazy to answer and press your lips to his. your thoughts scream at you to get up and leave, because he doesn’t love you and he never will. the alcohol in your veins dulls the vague memories of when you found taehyung in your bed, with him.

suddenly, you feel yourself drowning. perhaps in the relief and pleasure that he gives you, as taehyung unclips your bra. his hair tickles at your chest as he kisses a pathway to your breast, lips engulfing the nipple so he can hear you whine they way you used to for him. “tae...”

“shh princess, i’ve got you.”

the next moments pass quickly, clothes are pushed and wrestled off, bodies are pressed together and silent gasps pass from between your lips as he finally enters you. with his forehead pressed against yours, you open for him like the flowers in spring bloom. you force your head back into the pillows, fingers curl in his oblivion locks and you whine his name.

his name.

the sound alone drives him forward as he bottoms out, lips finding yours again and tongues clashing. you love him, you want him to love you back. lost breaths become low grumbles and the room is filled with heat and sweaty skin. “i love you,” taehyung sighs, moving his body in sync with yours. “i love you...”

maybe it’s because you’re riding on the edge of the release, maybe it’s the alcohol talking but something in your heart wants to believe in it, believe in what he says.

although, as the high fades and the darkness rises, you can’t find it in yourself to say it back.

you knew, you would regret it in the morning.

waking up to an empty bed, the sheets cold and your body naked under the cotton sheets. your head pounds heavily as you move to sit up, he was gone before the sun could rise. this was your normal, this was what you were used to.

the search for your clothes isn’t easy, shirts and underwear and pants littered across the room like stepping stones on a muddied puddle of emotions. of course, taehyung was never one to stay by your side through the nights, even when he held your heart so tightly in his. fresh tears begin to pool in your eyes as you dress, mind raising with pain and hurt that you swore you would never feel again.

the door clicks open and you freeze, sure that you look like a snotty and disheveled mess. that’s what taehyung did to you, he made a mess of you and left without cleaning up. taehyung stands before you, chocolatey eyes and curled devils locks just as strewn about as your own. “i went to get breakfast, YN...” taehyung’s voice trembles, as if it’s about to break. the man steps into the room, a brown paper bag in hand and coffee in the other. “I swear...i-i went to get breakfast, i wasn't going to leave you..not this time, please don’t leave.”

“you didn’t...you didn’t go?” you waver watching him closely without making a movement, the devil with the pink lips approaches you as he dashes the bags onto the bed and sets the coffee down on the bedside table. the resolve you’ve built up starts to crumble as he wraps his arms around you, weakly sinking onto his knees with you.

“i love you, YN, i meant what i said last night, i want you,” taehyung hums, cradling you and kissing at your head as you shake within his hold. “when i saw you again, i knew i didn’t want this to be the last time, i knew that i didn’t want to hurt you anymore. will you please give me a second chance? i won't ever leave you...”

you look up at him, desperate to see the truth in his galaxy stare and cling to him for dear life. you feel it, you see it. he means it this time, he wants you like how you wanted him. “my heart can’t handle any more pain, taehyung, you have to promise to change for me.” you say firmly, biting your lip.

taehyung matches your actions, fiddling with the lip ring you loved so much. “i promise, i just need you back here with me.”

a warmth engulfs you, the promise is real. so with hesitant lips, you lean up to kiss taehyung. the cold of his silver ring touches yours lips gently and your desperate for more, reaching your fingers into his thick locks and tugging him closer to you. the kiss speaks a thousand words, love, sorrow, regret. “i love you,” you whisper, missing the familiar words on your tongue. taehyung chuckles, pressing his forehead to yours and repeating the words back to you.

you suspected the morning after would be full of regret, but instead, it was filled with joy and the scent of the man you missed.

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lu-undy · 4 years ago

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Valentine’s day 5 - Alternate Universe

My choice went to have Lucien be a baker in Paris while Mundy is visiting the city with his parents!

Here it is on AO3!

"Micky, please tell your mum I'm starvin'."

"Mum, Dad's starvin'." Mundy's head swung from left to right.

"Micky, tell your Dad that I'm done with this cathedral now and we can get some lunch."

Both father and son cheered as they exited the impressive Cathédrale Montmartre.

It had been a few days now that the Turner family had travelled from their native Australia to Paris, France. After years of saving, the farmers and the hunter managed to gather the amount they needed to take some very well earned holidays and see a part of the world that Caroline, the mother, had always dreamt of visiting.

And it was Mundy, the son, now close to forty years old, who had suggested the idea of the trip. In his line of work, travelling was usual and he had seen a few places, and a lot of species already. He knew that his mother had always dreamt of seeing the City of Lights and so, he pushed for the idea to become a reality.

At first his parents thought it was way out of what they could afford not only financially, but physically. They were getting close to their seventies! But Mundy insisted and told the tale of a lot of his patrons who were that age and older, yet still roaming the world.

Caroline and Mike, mother and father, eventually accepted the idea, and Mundy worked extra shifts in pubs, playing the saxophone in some bands here and there, to add a few notes in the piggy bank.

There they were now, the three of them, in the capital of romance. The cathedral they had just visited was on the top of a hill from which they could see the entire city of Paris splayed out and spread in le Bassin Parisien, the valley in which the capital was planted. It was easy to distinguish the business district with its towers of black and blue-ish glass, from the more residential or commercial areas. The Eiffel tower obviously pointed to the sky further away.

Mundy had turned out to be the official photographer for the trip. He just enjoyed seeing the delight on his parents' faces and took pictures of them doing absolutely anything. They had never travelled much and he wanted them to have physical memories of it. On some pictures, they were pointing at a monument, on these ones, they were trying to decipher the names of the streets with a map wide open under their eyes, or just sitting on a bench and enjoying a cone of ice cream. Yes, it was July and peak summer in France, which was quite a surprise for the Aussies, but a welcome one. They all preferred hot and sunny weather, and were used to it.

"Let's try this bakery maybe?"

Caroline pointed at a reasonably small shop. The front of it was Burgundy red with the name shining in golden letters.

"Chez Lucien".

[Lucien's.]

Mundy pushed the door and let his parents through. The jingle of a bell rang and immediately after, a wave of delicious smells washed their lungs and made their mouths water even more.

"Bonjour." The baker greeted them. "Que puis-je faire pour vous?"

[What can I do for you?]

"Bonjour." Mundy tried his best accent. "Do you speak English?"

"Oui, I do." The Turner family sighed in relief. They were now used to communicating in sign language but finding someone who could understand even a bit of English was just their luck. "How may I help you?" The baker answered with more than a hint of a French accent.

"Just give us a second, son. I mean look at all these good things, the smell's amazin'!" Mike said, his eyes running through the sandwiches, the quiches and pastries.

"Merci. Will it be to eat here?”

“Yeah, think so.” Mike answered.

“In that case, you may make yourselves comfortable at a table.” The baker suggested.

Mundy noticed there were only two tables inside and one on the pavement. They relieved themselves of their backpacks and came back in front of the glass.

“Do take your time and don't hesitate to ask me if you need me to explain anything."

"Thanks, mate." Mundy answered.

Caroline held Mike's arm dearly as they chatted and pointed at sandwiches here and there behind the glass. Mundy gave them a bit of space and had a look at the desserts.

The colours beckoned his eyes. Red strawberries, all the shades of brown chocolate, white sugar, green pistachio, orange apricot tarts, yellow lemon ones. And the textures looked very different too. Mundy wished he could try a few.

And what a powerful yet pleasant mix of smells. The smell of hot flour was drowning Mundy entirely. As he raised his eyes and looked behind the baker, bread of different shapes, sizes and colours were neatly arranged in wicker baskets. It was impressive.

"What's this one, son?" Mike asked, pointing at a sandwich.

"This has goat cheese, salad, and a drop of mustard with honey." The man in the white apron answered, and Mike and Caroline nodded. "Do you have any dietary requirements maybe? That might help you make the choice easier."

"Mike here has to watch out for sugar and cholesterol." Caroline said.

"Bah, I'm fine." Mike answered.

"Mike, the doctor said to watch out…! Micky, tell your Dad…!"

"Dad…" Mundy started.

"C'mon son, don't side with your mum! Men's solidarity!"

The baker smiled.

"I can recommend a classic French one, if you want a full French experience." He suggested.

"Sure!" Mike answered. "We haven't come all the way from home to stop at sugar and cholesterol!"

"In that case, I would suggest the classic jambon-beurre."

"John what?" Mike repeated.

"Jambon-beurre." The baker said. "Ham and butter. Now, I can make one with a light butter and lean ham for you."

"That sounds great, what d'you say Caroline?" Mike looked at his wife. "Can I get that?"

"My father himself used to have those when his diet became more strict." The baker explained.

"Oh that's very kind of you." Caroline said. "Sure, go for that. I will have the goat cheese and honey one, I never tried that combination of flavours."

"Very well."

Mundy had been watching the whole scene unravel before his eyes and was grinning. He was over the moon to see his parents so relaxed and enjoying their time. They had worked hard all their lives to provide for their only son and had rarely taken a holiday as significant as this.

"And you, Micky?"

"Huh?"

Caroline's voice had broken her son's daydream.

"Oh, uh, I'll get the ham and butter, the normal kind is fine for me."

"Very well, give me an instant." The baker gathered his ingredients and a bread knife. He prepared the sandwich in front of his hungry clients as they watched him.

Mundy found himself staring. The baker was a bit shorter than him by half a foot or so. He looked a bit older too. His temples were grey and his front tuft, which swung between his eyes as he cut the bread, was greying too. However, his eyes shone with a kind of vivacity, of life, that Mundy found made him younger than himself maybe. He had very light blue eyes with dark eyelashes - beautiful - a slightly hooked nose and thin lips. His hands were trained and used to his work as his efficiency showed, but Mundy guessed that he hadn't been a baker all his life. His fingers were too slim to have done manual work all their lives like his parents'.

"I guess you are visiting France for the first time?"

"Yeah, first time out of home since a long time, son." Mike answered.

"Where are you from, if I may?"

"Australia."

"Ooh, that is indeed a long way from home." The baker chuckled and Mundy saw a flash of his pearly white teeth.

"Yeah, the wife's always wanted to come and see it here, y'know, with it bein' the city of romance and all…" Mike explained and he held his wife's hand dearly.

"But of course." The baker placed the sandwiches on a tray. "Will that be all for you today?"

"Micky, ask your mum if we can get desserts."

"You could ask me directly." Caroline answered.

"Yeah but you'd say no to me, honey."

Caroline rolled her eyes and smiled.

"Fine, let us have a look at what you have, uh…?" Caroline adjusted her glasses, looking for a badge or anything to address the shop owner. His name was sewn on his apron, in black, cursive letters. "Lu…?"

"Lucien."

"Ooh, original name. Sounds very French, beautiful!" Caroline said.

"Thank you, Madame." Lucien bowed his head politely. "May I suggest the strawberry tart for Monsieur? It is mostly fruity and the dough has very little sugar. My most faithful customers do like it particularly."

"Yeah, looks very good." Mike said enthusiastically.

"I'll have one of these, uh…" Caroline pointed at the glass.

"Oh, éclair au chocolat. Do you know what éclair means in French?" Lucien asked.

"No?"

"It is a lightning bolt. As a child, my mother used to make me believe that they were called that way because of how fast I devoured them."

"Ooh, that is sweet…!"

Lucien put the mini tart and the éclair on the tray.

"And for you, Monsieur?" He turned to Mundy, who blushed under the piercing gaze.

"Oh, uh, I mean… Maybe one of these…?"

"Cannelé, they are called, because of their shape. They are typical from the South-West of France, where I come from. Have you ever tried them?"

"No, why?"

Lucien smiled.

"They are rarely a tourist's choice." He simply answered. "Here for you. I recommend enjoying those desserts with some coffee. Pray take a seat, I shall bring you your tray."

"Oh, thank you, dear." Caroline said and the Turner family sat around the table. Lucien closely followed. He added a jug of fresh water and glasses.

"Enjoy your meal, or as we say here, bon appétit." Lucien bowed his head and left his customers to enjoy their meal.

"Mum? Dad?" Mundy was holding the camera and took a picture when they both bit in their sandwiches. "There we go."

The Turners enjoyed their sandwiches and the fresh water. After all, it was summer and it was hot. Caroline reminded Mike to take his pills as usual and Mundy was sitting next to them. He loved his parents more than anything or anyone else and in truth, they were all he had. He had a few friends back in Oz, not a lot, but good ones.

"Son?" Mike's whisper pulled Mundy out of his daydream.

"Hm?"

"Can you please tell your mum to stop starin' at the baker like that."

"If I was a few decades younger…" Caroline whispered.

"Yeah, well, if you were a few decades younger, you'd remember that ring on your finger maybe, eh?" Mike teased.

"Mum, please… You're makin' it obvious…" Mundy nudged his mother's elbow gently.

Lucien was behind the counter, leaning on the wall on his side and reading a newspaper.

"C'mon, Micky, tell your Dad that he's handsome!" Caroline nudged her son back.

"Mum…!" He blushed.

"Yeah well, go and have sandwiches with him, then!" Mike answered.

"Oh I would!"

"Caroline!"

"Mike!"

"Mum, Dad, please…!"

"Nah, son, I've seen her stare at enough guys here. Since the moment we landed here and now, her eyes jumped from bloke to bloke like a bee from flower to flower!"

"Not my fault that they all look so charming! And I didn't say anything when you stared at that young sheila in the short skirt in the cathedral…!"

"Well…" Mike blushed, ashamed. "I'm a simple man…!"

"Besides, I'm not the only one who's starin', Mike."

"Hm?"

Caroline nodded in direction of Mundy, for whom the whispers of his parents had dissolved in the air. He had eyes and ears only for that baker. God, his mother was right, he was handsome!

Caroline was right on that people there in France were quite good looking and it made the journey all the more pleasant to the eye.

"Micky?" Mike's voice pulled Mundy out of his staring.

"Huh?"

"Well, I can't tell you to stop cause you got a ring on your finger but uh… make it a bit more, y'know, discreet…?"

Mundy blushed beyond his ears and lowered his head.

And that was the first encounter with Lucien, the baker. From that day on, the Turners would try to have their lunch there everyday. Caroline was the one to push for it. Not only did Lucien turn out to be an incredible guide for them, recommending good and inexpensive restaurants as well as little corners of paradise within Paris, but she could see the blush on Mundy's cheeks whenever Lucien talked to him.

In the evenings, Mundy would take a stroll outside, to give his parents some space. He would walk in the streets of the city, under the lamp posts, letting his feet decide where he should go. More often than once, he found himself not far from the bakery. On one occasion, Lucien was smoking outside of his bakery, as the sky was still bright. Mundy was paralysed with fear. He wasn't supposed to be standing there! He was supposed to be in his shop, and then Mundy could casually look through the window as he passed it, maybe even wave if he made eye contact with him. Yeah, that all made sense, but not Lucien being outside and-!

"Bonsoir, Mundy, wasn't it?"

[Good evening]

Mundy's blood froze. As he was panicking internally, his feet had continued walking until he was within a few feet from the baker.

"Y-yeah, hi."

"Do you smoke?" Lucien asked.

"Yeah, I mean, sometimes."

"Here." Lucien offered one of his cigarettes and Mundy accepted it.

"Thanks, mate."

"Come closer."

Mundy blushed when Lucien closed the gap between them and lit his cigarette up. He closed his eyes and all he could feel was the smell of the Frenchman's cologne, mixed with pastries and fresh bread.

Gosh… He thought as he felt his insides melt.

"Voilà." Lucien chimed as he put his lighter away. Mundy opened his eyes and he felt as if he had emerged from a dream to another one. Now, the ice blue eyes of the elegant man were on him.

"Y-yeah, thanks, heh."

"You like to walk at night?" Lucien asked as they both exhaled the bitter smoke.

"Yeah, it's nice and calm."

"And I guess it is your break from your photography duties?" The Frenchman chuckled.

"What?"

"You are the one carrying the camera all the time, and taking pictures of your parents. Do you have any of you?"

"Uh, yeah, we do have a few of all three of us together."

"I would be delighted to take more in my shop next time you have lunch here."

"Ah, thanks."

They stayed in front of the shop and smoked in silence, watching the few people in the streets come and go.

"Mundy?"

"Yeah?"

"I will soon close the shop. Would you like anything?"

"Oh, uh, no, I'm fine, thanks."

"Very well." Lucien put the cigarette between his lips and entered the bakery. Mundy wasn't sure he could or should follow him so he stayed on the threshold. He watched as Lucien disappeared through a door behind the counter. Soon after, the lights switched off in the shop and Lucien emerged. Mundy couldn't see him clearly in the dark but his silhouette stood out.

"Very well. This is it for today." He said as he came out and locked the shop. "I could do with some good coffee, would you like to join me, perhaps? I know a quiet café." Lucien turned to Mundy who was staring at him. "Mundy?".

He had never seen the baker outside of his natural habitat and a bit like a schoolboy who couldn't imagine his teacher living outside of school, Mundy was taken aback. It turned out that underneath the apron was a white polo shirt and now a beige linen jacket, with a matching hat and trousers.

"U-uh? Yeah? Sorry, you said somethin'?"

"You daydream a lot, hm?" Lucien chuckled.

"Sorry…" Mundy looked away and felt the heat of the embarrassment on his cheeks.

"It is alright, I do like to daydream too." He smiled as Mundy raised his eyes to him and the Aussie immediately averted his eyes. Oof, that grin…! "But you haven't answered my invitation."

"Y-your invitation?"

"Oui, coffee, with me?"

"You sure? I mean, I guess you're tired after work and maybe you want to go back home to your family or see your mates…?"

"I don't have one or the other." Mundy's eyebrows jumped. "You and your parents are the closest I have got to having friends for a long time. So, what do you say? Un café avec moi?"

[A coffee with me?]

"Oh, uh, alright. I mean uh, oui?"

Lucien smiled.

"Très bien, follow me."

[Very well]

The Frenchman led the way through the streets.

"So you left Maman and Papa at the hotel?"

"Uh, yeah. I try to give them some space. Mum's always dreamt to come here with Dad."

"Not with you?" Lucien asked.

"No, I didn't want it to sound so bad… I mean that she'd wanted to come here even before they found me."

"They… found you?" Lucien repeated as they took a turn.

"Oh Gosh, I can't keep my mouth shut…" Mundy mumbled to himself. "Sorry, mate, I-I meant… Ugh… Nevermind."

Lucien didn't insist.

"Here is the café." He pulled the front door and held it open for his tourist friend.

"Oh, thanks."

And it lasted for a couple of weeks, the nights out, sometimes in a café, sometimes just a tour of a neighbourhood with an incredibly patient and passionate guide.

"You like Paris quite a bit, eh?" Mundy asked under the dark blue sky lit by the Eiffel Tower. Lucien had taken him to the Champs de Mars, an open park just in front of the beautifully lit, iconic tower. They were both sitting on the grass.

"Believe it or not, I do not like it much."

"Really?"

"Oui."

"You know it well though, historical stuff and all."

There was a slight smile on the Frenchman's lips.

"Oui, unfortunately so, for some part of it. Non, what I have come to appreciate about this city recently is how you like it."

"What?" Mundy asked, embarrassed and confused. Lucien chuckled.

"You enjoy visiting Paris."

"Well, there's a lot of monuments to see, lots of history behind it, and it's a proper city. The Outback's very different."

"Tell me about it."

They exchanged a glance and Mundy's throat tightened. He could see all the lights on the Eiffel Tower shimmer on the Frenchman's eyes, like stars in a clear blue sky.

"Well… Uh…" Mundy looked left and right. "See everythin' around us?"

"Oui?"

"Imagine there's nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yeah, and imagine there's no grass but just orange dust."

"Hm…" Lucien looked keenly around him.

"Now add a few cacti, not too many, eh? And boulders. Just big rocks, basically."

"What shapes are they?"

"Any weird shape you can imagine. They're a bit like clouds, if you stare at them, you start seeing that they look like stuff but they don't really…"

"Oh… And what shapes have you seen?"

Mundy looked at Lucien sitting next to him. He had removed his hat and jacket. His polo shirt was white with dark blue stripes and he wore matching dark blue chinos trousers with beige loafers. Elegant, he was just so elegant…! What's more, he was lying on his side on the grass, resting part of his weight on his forearm, with one leg folded. Gosh…

"Uh… I usually see animals."

"What kind?"

"Sometimes, it's a gigantic wallaby, or a koala. But sometimes, it's stuff that doesn't even exist."

"Hm, like what?"

Like you, Mundy thought. No one had taken the time to go out with him, take the time to know him, go to cafés and odd little bistrots with him. No one had ever listened to his life in the Outback, no one had ever asked. And certainly, no one had done all that and looked half as gorgeous as Lucien. It was to the point where Mundy struggled to maintain eye contact with him for long. He would sometimes cross Lucien's eyes and avert his gaze the split second after. His feline, light blue irises were too much to take, especially because each time Lucien graced him with a gaze, Mundy could feel a punch to his guts and the blood rush to his cheeks.

"I-I don't know, it's a bit silly…" He answered, blushing and looking down between his crossed legs.

"Mundy…"

He froze when he felt a finger under his chin, pulling it up.

"Huh?"

"Please, tell me."

Gosh, not those eyes…! Oh and fuck it… Mundy couldn't refuse or ignore anything to those ice blue irises.

"Sometimes it's a mix of animals… Like something with the head of an owl, the body of a falcon, but legs like a wild cat. I know, it's ridiculous, ahem…"

"Non, not at all." Lucien answered and maybe it was all in Mundy's head, but he felt the Frenchman's index linger on his chin a bit before parting. The Aussie's jaw was electrified. "I find it poetic."

"D-do you?" Mundy's surprise was so obvious, so naive that it made Lucien grin sweetly. The Aussie uncrossed his legs and let them flow in front of him.

"Oui." Lucien laid down and rested his head on Mundy's thigh.

"Huh-?" Mundy gasped.

"Oh, am I weighing too much on you?"

"N-no, it's fine. I'm just-I'm just surprised, is all." The truth was that Mundy felt the heat in him surge as unexpectedly as Lucien lay on him. Was he just tired of holding his head on his palm? Was it friendly? Was it more? Was it a French thing?

"Hm. Look around you." Lucien said and Mundy did as he was told. It was the dead of night and not many people were out. "The city is almost empty. The Paris of the night is waking up and claiming the streets now."

"The Paris of the night?" Mundy repeated.

"Oui, people who shun the naked light of day because society shunned them first. Those are people whom morality and customs do not understand yet, people who are too free."

"What d'you mean?"

"Look at the pavement there." Lucien pointed and Mundy saw a few women wearing short skirts.

"Yeah?"

"Do you see these women?"

"Yeah."

"They are not women."

"What?"

"They are not women in what is most commonly accepted as the definition for it. They need the cover of the night to exist as they want to. I find it tragic yet strongly inspiring." Lucien went on. "They need the blanket of the dark night sky to wear the dresses, skirts and make-up that they want. We are not too different from them, you and me."

"How? You wanna wear a dress now?" Mundy joked and Lucien chuckled, his head still using the Aussie's thigh as a pillow.

"Non, we too are taking advantage of the night to be what the light of day prevents us from being."

Mundy's heart pounded in his chest. He was afraid he was understanding what Lucien meant, or maybe he wasn't at all and he was just hearing what the thin voice at the back of his head was whispering.

"Huh?"

"May I?"

Mundy sweated. Lucien had taken his fingers in his.

"Y-yeah, I think."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to force you - oh?" Lucien's eyebrows jumped and he then relaxed when Mundy pushed his trembling fingers shyly between his. Lucien held on to his hand dearly. "Mundy?"

"Mh?" The Aussie was screwing his eyes shut hard and was trying to calm his pounding heart and the rush of blood through his body.

"Merci."

[Thank you.]

His eyes snapped wide.

"What?"

"I said thank you."

"For what?"

"Everything."

And that night, they stayed on the Champs de Mars all the way up until the sun showed its first rays of light. At that point, they were both lying on their backs. The wide lawn was their mattress and the early hours of the new day captured the murmurs of what no one else but them should know.

It lasted for weeks, enough to make a habit out of it and to make Mundy think that it could last forever. Unfortunately enough, the holidays were coming to an end and Australia was calling the Turners back.

"You're not going out tonight? You should take a walk, Micky."

In their hotel room, Caroline and Mike were talking to Mundy.

"Your Mum's right, son. You could do with some fresh air."

"We spent our day outside. I'm tired."

Mike and Caroline exchanged a glance and went to the bathroom.

"I'm tellin' you, Mike, we have to push him out." She whispered to her husband. "He's as sad he could be."

"Yeah, I know, I know… But you're absolutely sure it will do him good?"

"Mike, I'm a sheila. We feel those things. Look at him…"

Caroline held the bathroom door ajar and Mike peeked through the slim opening.

"Doesn't he remind you of someone?" She asked.

"Hm. Yeah, course he does. Look at him lyin' on his bed, starin' at the ceiling. His body is here, his heart is elsewhere. He's exactly like me when I first met you, honey." Mike sighed. "Right, I'll get him out of this room. But you gotta help me."

"Ok, what's the plan?" Caroline asked excitedly.

"Follow me."

Mike took his wife by the hand and they exited the bathroom.

"Uh, Caroline, darl', d'you mind waitin' in the bathroom. This is guys' only talk."

"Fine."

Mike went to sit on Mundy's bed, next to him.

"Look, son. Uh… Your mum and I… Uh… We could do with a couple of hours alone if you… uh… If that's ok with you…?"

Mundy's eyes snapped wide and he sat up, looking his father in the eye and blushing. Mike was averting his gaze from his son, a bit ashamed.

"Oh…" Mundy answered. "Right, fine, I'll uh… I'll go have a walk. I'll be back in a couple hours then. Sorry."

"Good boy, no, no, don't apologise, it's fine." Mike said as Mundy put on his shoes and hat. "Take a bit of money with you and stay safe, eh?"

"Will do. Thanks, Dad."

"No, thank you, son."

Mundy exited the hotel and soon found himself in the streets. The sun was gently setting and the sky was orange with a few streaks of pink. The next day would again be very sunny.

Mundy didn't see it. His eyes were riveted on his shoes, his hands in his pockets, and his back hunched. He was in his own bubble and wanted to stay there, have some time alone to think.

About what? The obvious, of course. He was about to leave Paris, to leave France, to leave Europe, the Northern Hemisphere. He was about to leave Lucien and hadn't told him the dreadful news yet. Why? Because he didn't know how to tell him, especially now…!

Mundy sighed as he recalled the events of the previous night. They were on the quays of the Seine, the river that slithers through Paris.

"You can see almost everything from this river, eh?" Mundy realised.

"Oui, most monuments and important buildings you can see from here."

"Impressive… Oh…"

Lucien had slid his arm around Mundy's and his hand glided down until his fingers laced between the Aussie's. Mundy clenched his hand. He liked it way too much. Oh, hold on, maybe it was too much? He could feel his hand sweating…!

"S-sorry…" He pulled his hand off and wiped it nervously on his trousers.

"There is no problem." Lucien took Mundy's hand again. He pulled it up to his lips and kissed it.

"W-woah… Uhm…"

Lucien chuckled.

"You are such a delightful hint of the exotism I used to love…"

"What's that mean?"

They stopped walking along the river banks. Lucien went to the edge and looked at the streamflow for an instant. He removed his loafers elegantly and rolled his trousers' ends up along his calves. Mundy blushed. Contrary to him, Lucien didn't have a tan and being lighter in skin tone than him, he appeared almost snow white compared to Mundy. The Aussie watched as Lucien sat at the edge and let his feet dangle down. They were in the water up to his ankles. Mundy copied him and they were soon sitting side by side, their feet in the river.

Lucien leaned on Mundy's side and took his hand again. He held it dearly between both of his own.

"Mundy?"

"Yeah?"

"You are leaving a strong impression on me."

Mundy's eyebrows jumped.

"Y-you too." He removed his hat and leaned his head on Lucien's.

Silence fell for a while. It was soothing, hearing just the lapping sounds of the cool water licking their feet and their breaths.

"Lucien?"

"Oui?"

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

"You just did, and yes you may."

"How come you uh… I mean I don't want it to sound bad but… How come you spend all your nights with me? I mean, don't you have anyone waitin' at home? Family, friends? Even the weekends you spend with me. Y'know, it's ok if you wanted to not see me for a few days, I'd understand."

"I have very few friends. To be truly honest, I have none. The only person waiting for me back home is Perle."

"Oh, who's that? Family?"

"Better than that, she is my cat."

"Oh, you have a kitty?"

"The best in the world."

"What does she look like?" Mundy asked.

"Look here, I have a photograph of her." Lucien took his wallet off of his inner pocket and retrieved a small rectangular picture. It wasn't much bigger than a stamp. He handed it to Mundy.

"Oh, woah… Expensive she must be, eh. Gorgeous, long, snow white fur and light eyes, like you almost - huh, I mean…"

"Oui, she has blue eyes." Lucien simply answered. "You wouldn't know on the black and white picture. And I had no idea she was expensive, even though she is priceless to me."

"You didn't buy her off a shop or someone?"

"Non, I rescued her when she was a kitten, cold, shivering and skinny. Poor baby, she barely had the strength to mewl."

"Oh, woah…" Mundy handed back the picture and as Lucien stored it safely in his wallet again, the Aussie was devouring him with his eyes.

"I raised her as best as I could and we understand each other pretty well. She is my little baby, or as I like to call her, mon petit bébé."

"Uh… I… I mean…" Gosh, words jangled and mixed in his head. He had found a man gorgeous as a God, patient with him, who respected his shyness, didn't take advantage of it, didn't force him to do anything and loved his cat?

"Oui?" Lucien raised his fair eyes to Mundy and that didn't help the Aussie at all. His thoughts were broken, everything broke under those eyes.

"Uh?"

Lucien chuckled.

"It is fine. You don't have to say anything." He leaned his head on Mundy's shoulder and held his hand. "What about you? Do you have any relatives besides your parents?"

"Uh, no. It's just them and me. I got a few uncles and aunts. See them for Christmas with my cousins and their kids. And for the pets, we got a few dogs to keep the beasts away from the hens and geese. Mum has a cat too, Percy, he's black and white, with green eyes."

"What kinds of dogs?"

"An Aussie shepherd and a border collie. Good girls they are. We had a few through the years but dogs don't live as long as we want them to, eh?"

"Indeed."

"How old is your cat? What's her name again?"

"Perle, or for you, Pearl. She is now seven years old."

"Oh, a big girl."

"A wise lady indeed. My only companion since… A long time."

"Fair enough. Haven't had anyone to talk to for years too. I mean, apart from my parents."

"You don't have friends in Australia?"

"I do, yeah, but… Uh… Not like you."

"Well I don't imagine you have bakers who have become part time tourist guides there, hm?" Lucien teased.

"Nah, that's true. But uh, yeah, I mean… We've talked about anythin' for the past few weeks, right?"

"Oh oui, from cacti, to desert, to wild animals, Australian beers, dishes, weather, slang…."

"Yeah, and now I feel like I know Paris almost better than where I come from!" Mundy chuckled.

They looked in each other's eyes.

"We indeed have had conversations about anything with baffling ease."

"Yeah…" Mundy confirmed.

"Merci. It had been ages since I last felt such a pleasant connection with someone."

"Same for me."

Lucien had looked up at Mundy and stared. The Aussie hadn't noticed that the Frenchman's pupils dilated as they sank from his lagoon blue eyes, down his long, straight nose, to his rough, thin lips. Mundy was lost in the ice blue irises and time had stopped. Lucien did half of the work and pulled his neck up. Mundy could smell his perfume and his cigarettes, maybe a lingering faint aroma of hot flour too. But the Aussie had been oblivious and didn't meet the Frenchman half-way.

It had been roughly twenty-fours hours after these events now, and Mundy couldn't have got any of it out of his head. He was stuck there and then, his hand between Lucien's, his head leaning on the Frenchman.

And he found it ridiculous! Dinners in little, hidden bistrots, holding hands on the banks of the river Seine, pulling an all-nighter on the grass under the Eiffel Tower… What the hell had he become?

If his parents knew of it, if his friends knew of it, what would they all think? A holiday romance, nothing much? Pfff…

What hurt Mundy wasn't any of that. It was the fact that he had grown attached to Lucien. For him, it wasn't just a holiday matter, he wanted it to be more. Why? Because where on Earth would he find someone that would treat him so well and with whom he felt that he could share his everything? He felt safe with Lucien. He felt safe in a way that the hunter never thought he would one day experience because what that meant is that he was much more insecure about himself than what he let on…

Most people he knew would describe him as a nice bloke if not very talkative. They assumed he was just like that. But now, Mundy realised that he was just… shy. Part of him even thought that he was afraid. Of what? Of people, constantly watching and judging him.

He didn't like people and preferred animals in that respect. Animals didn't care that you were still mostly living with your parents, driving your father's van around the desert. Animals didn't ask about his job only to fantasise about it, use him for the night and throw him away. Animals didn't think they couldn't build anything with him because of his almost nomad way of life. No, animals cared for him because he cared for them, end of story.

"Bonsoir, Mundy. You took your time tonight, I thought you wouldn't come."

[Good evening, Mundy.]

The voice with the French accent broke Mundy's train of thought abruptly and he winced. He looked down at his feet and gave them an angry glance.

Well thanks for that… He was thinking. While he had been pulling on the thread of his thoughts like a cat on a ball of yarn, his feet had guided Mundy to the bakery.

"Oh, uh, y-yeah, sorry…"

"Are you alright?" Lucien asked, as Mundy still hadn't made eye contact with him.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

The Frenchman could have smelt that it was a lie from a mile away. He nonetheless ignored it and they both walked together along the street.

"What would you like to do tonight?" He asked.

"Don't know. You choose."

"In that case, there is somewhere that we could try." Lucien took Mundy's hand and led the way. He had an idea to cheer up his more-than-friend.

The walk was silent as Lucien decided against insisting. Mundy seemed the type to like silence and solitude well, which the Frenchman respected. He too had his moments where he would rather be alone.

Soon enough, they entered a café. Lucien quickly found a table and they both sat down, opposite each other. A waiter soon came. The Frenchman placed their order while Mundy was still brooding, somewhere between his own mind and nowhere… The waiter placed two mugs on the table and disappeared again.

"Here." Lucien took Mundy's hand and pushed it to the mug gently.

"Huh?" When his fingers registered the heat from both Lucien's hand and the mug, Mundy's eyes snapped wide and he landed back on Earth.

"Drink this."

"What is it?"

"Can't you tell?"

Mundy's sense of smell woke up as he raised the mug closer to his lips.

"Hot chocolate?"

"Oui, but not any kind. Try it."

Mundy did as he was told and took a sip.

"Hm… Very soft but not too sweet."

"As my mother used to do to me whenever I felt low, as a child. I kept the habit of coming here and having one whenever I felt like nothing else could help."

"Mh."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk to me about it, whatever it is?" Lucien asked after Mundy took another sip.

"I… I don't know…"

"Is it your parents? They seemed fine for lunch today."

"No, it's not them. It's me."

Lucien tilted his head on the side and his hand slid on the table until he cupped Mundy's, against the mug.

"Tell me, please."

Mundy sighed.

"I'll be goin' back to Oz. I-I'm gonna leave and… I… I kind of… I don't wanna." He mumbled, his eyes riveted on the hot chocolate. Lucien looked at him distraught.

"I see." He answered. "Do you really wish to stay here?"

"Y-yeah."

"You like Paris that much?"

Obviously, Mundy couldn't care less about the city. What counted was Lucien, and Lucien was staying there.

"Mundy…? Talk to me, please. I hate to see you distraught." Now, both of Lucien's hands were on Mundy's, wrapped around the warm mug.

"I don't wanna go, is all. It's childish and just plain ridiculous. But I wish I could stay and have… Have more tours of Paris.. With you."

Lucien's thumbs brushed Mundy's hands.

"I wish you could stay too, Mundy." Finally, the Aussie raised his head and met Lucien's sad eyes. "I have rarely felt the peace that I do with you. Your company is soothing for my now fragile nerves."

Mundy raised an eyebrow.

"What d'you mean?"

"There was a time where I was able to withstand a lot of pressure on my shoulders; the pressure of an entire country even. The moment it was gone, my body and mind collapsed. I didn't know anything anymore, even my own identity, what I was, who I was, was hard to grasp. It took years to come back from there. Years that I wouldn't have survived if not for Perle. I focused my time and energy on her. I devoted my attention to her and it distracted me from thinking too much about myself." He paused to catch his breath.

"Y-you got ill?" Lucien raised his eyes to Mundy.

"Oui, a kind of illness that no doctor knows exactly how to cure. A lot of soldiers go through it. They come back from the battlefields and they find it very hard to adjust back to civil life."

"You were a soldier?"

"Worse, but oui, I belonged to the army."

"How did you become a baker then? You were already one before you went to the army?" Mundy asked.

"Non, I was not. I had no skills besides those that I learnt in the army, or so few. You will mock me, but the idea came from Perle."

"Your kitty?"

Lucien nodded.

"One day I took her out to buy some bread with me. She was lying on my shoulders and when I was queueing to get my bread, she jumped out and into the back of the bakery." Lucien smiled as he remembered the events. "The baker let me through and we looked for her together. When we found her, she was asleep on a tray of still warm brioches."

"Aw, was that a long time ago?"

"She was somewhere between a kitten and an adult cat; a teenager, if you will."

"Ah, right. But how did you become a baker?"

"I apologised profusely to the baker and told him I would pay for all the damage and the pawprints… He told me he'd rather have someone to help him make all that again rather than take my money. So I offered my help. He taught me most of what I know now."

"Wow… Talk about finding work randomly, eh…"

"Oui, indeed. Since then, I have felt much better. Working put my attention and energy into something that brought smiles to the customers and apparently, to me too."

"So you got your own bakery goin'?"

"The previous owner of my bakery happens to be that man from the story. He was very old and decided to retire a few years later. He offered to let me buy the shop from him, which I did. I then changed the name to mine and redid some parts inside, the decoration mainly."

"Oh, I see… Wow… Great story you have."

"Merci." Lucien took a sip of his hot chocolate. "What about you? You said you were a hunter?"

"Yeah, but work is more and more rare now when you mainly do pest control and poacher scarin'."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't hunt beasts for trophies, fur or fun. I hunt and tranquilise whatever happens to be a bit too far from its natural habitat, load it on my van, and drive it back where it should be or in a reserve. As for the poachers, I scare them off of endangered species."

"So you don't kill animals?"

"Very rarely. Only for food when I'm out for days and far from home."

"Oh…" Lucien's eyebrows jumped. "I did not expect that. In fact, I didn't even know that this job existed."

"As far as I know, I'm the only one who doesn't actually kill the beasts. I get contracts that get me travellin' through the world quite a bit."

"Very exciting."

"Seein' the sights is nice, yeah. But uh, I miss my family quite fast and uh… It's not so much my family but… I feel a bit… Uh…"

"Lonely?"

Mundy nodded.

"Yeah…"

"I would recommend getting a cat," Lucien said. "But I am afraid that it doesn't completely fill the emptiness that you feel inside."

"I'd imagine so, yeah…"

Silence fell for a while as they both drank more of their hot chocolates.

"I would love you to stay, but your life, your family and your job are in Australia." Lucien said and his eyes met Mundy. They were both distraught and could hardly hide it.

"Yeah… And I don't know anythin' else but shooting a rifle." Mundy looked through the window. It was now properly dark outside and only the yellow lamps inside the old café provided them with some light.

"I am immensely grateful to you however."

"For what?"

"I wouldn't be able to put a name on it but you brought me some peace and you made me wake up in the morning with a new feeling; the eagerness of welcoming a new day that will for sure contain some spark of joy, namely, your presence, your… Hm, you."

Mundy blushed and turned as red as a brick.

"Y-you do the same. I mean, for me. I uh… I'm not just happy to visit the city with my parents. I'm uh… I'm happy in the evenings, with you."

They hadn't realised until then but they were holding hands on the table, the mugs had been pushed aside.

"I wish I could stay, I really do. But uh… Yeah, without a job or anythin', I can't."

"I understand and, for what it is worth, I would love for you to stay too." Lucien hesitated but thought that it might be his last evening with Mundy. He looked around and could see the few customers in the café were far from them. "And not just to help you visit the city."

Mundy's eyebrows jumped as Lucien had spoken quite low. The Frenchman was staring at him with a particular shine in his eyes. He slightly bent forward and Mundy mirrored him. Their faces were a few inches apart.

"L-Lucien, I'd uh… I'd better get back. We still gotta pack a few things before leavin' tomorrow."

Lucien's chest burnt. Hot lava was being poured on his heart.

"Before you go, may I tell you something?"

They were both whispering. Mundy nodded and Lucien gestured to him to get closer, which he did. The Frenchman wrapped a hand behind Mundy's neck and the Aussie froze rigid when he felt Lucien's breath on his ear.

"Je t'aime." He simply whispered and Mundy's entire being burst and melted when he felt Lucien's lips on his rough cheek.

[I love you.]

"U-uh…" The air was scarce in the room but it happened too fast and Mundy was left alone at the table. Lucien had dashed out faster than a shadow. "Fuck me…"

Soon, the surge of love was replaced by boiling rage and Mundy stormed out of the café, almost running back to the hotel. That night, he cried himself to sleep as silently as he could. He didn't want his parents to hear it.

The next morning, Mundy was woken up by his mother.

"Micky, sweetie? You've been sleepin' a long time, it's lunchtime now."

"Don't wanna eat." He rolled himself under the blanket and his parents exchanged a concerned look. "You can go if you want."

"Micky, you can't travel on an empty stomach, son." Mike's voice took the decision for everyone and Mundy sighed before getting out of bed and dressed up.

They arranged for their luggage to be transferred to the airport while they went to have lunch. Obviously, they ended up in Lucien's bakery.

"Bonjour, Lucien!" Mike tried his best.

"Bonjour, Mike. What will it be today?"

"Hold your horses, son, I've gotta see with the wife if I can get dessert first…!"

"Mike, you know the answer to that…"

"Lucien," Mike turned to the baker. "You married, by any chance?"

Lucien shook his head.

"Non, I nearly did but it did not happen."

"Well, before you get married, ask them if you can get dessert for the rest of your life."

"Mike…! You know why you have to be careful, the doctor said so, now be reasonable, dear." Caroline tried.

"And only get a ring on your finger if they say that yes, you can get dessert until your very last breath!"

Lucien smiled, albeit sadly. After that, the Turner family placed their order and soon enough, their sandwiches and salads appeared on the table.

"Lucien, excuse me, dear?" Caroline called and Lucien came to her.

"Oui, Madame?"

"I saw the poster on your front door. You're looking to hire?"

"Oui, indeed. I think this is the end of a chapter for me. Time maybe to do something else."

"Oh, that's a shame. You're very good at what you do!"

"Yeah, your sandwiches are amazin'." Mike added.

"Thank you very much."

"Did you receive applications?" Caroline asked.

"I am afraid not, but I have only put that poster up this morning."

"What kind of people're you lookin' for?" Mike asked.

"Anyone, from inexperienced to confirmed bakers. In fact, I learnt this trade as a beginner and I would like to pass on my knowledge and techniques to someone else. But don't let me bother you. Enjoy your lunch."

He bowed and returned behind his counter. Mundy hadn't listened to any of it. He couldn't even raise his eyes off of his shoes, especially not to see Lucien. It hurt too much.

"Micky?"

"Mh."

"Micky, you want to eat before we go, dear." Caroline said and her son sighed before taking a bite. He chewed slowly and looked away from anyone else.

"Don't like your sandwich, son?"

Mundy didn't answer and didn't see Caroline and Mike exchanging a glance.

"You can try another one, eh."

Still no answer from the heartbroken Aussie. It was a torture. Eating a sandwich made by the hand of a man he had cried for, hands that he had spent the past few weeks holding fondly even if he had never initiated it. Gosh, now he regretted it, he should have done something, anything…! But he wasn't ready, he never was, he had never been prepared for it! In more than three decades of existence, who the hell would come to him and teach him?

"Mike, Madame Caroline?" Lucien had come to the table.

"Yeah?"

"I have a… an unusual request, if I may."

"Go ahead, son." Mike wiped his mouth and frowned to listen better.

"It is actually for Mundy." Lucien said and Mundy frowned too but his eyes were still low. "If you would rather make your own sandwich, you may help yourself to the fridge and the breads that I have."

Mundy didn't flinch.

"If you want… You can… Make not only your sandwich, but… other sandwiches."

"Oh, you mean to take away? Ouch!" Mike asked and received an elbow to his ribs from Caroline who glared at him.

"That is lovely of you, Lucien. Yes, I think he would love doing that, if that is ok with you?"

"It is the least I can offer, Madame."

"Oh, you really don't have to…!"

"Allow me to insist. You have been lovely customers throughout all these weeks."

"And you have been a lovely guide! So, Micky, what do you say?" Caroline asked her son and he sighed.

"Don't know." He mumbled.

"C'mon sweetie, go and make your own sandwich. And make a couple of extra ones for your Dad and I, for the road."

"Mum…" Mundy hid his face in his hands.

"Micky, you don't want to be impolite to Lucien." She insisted.

"Hm…" He grumbled and pushed his chair back before standing up, not seeing his mother whispering something to his father.

"Here, wear this. It would be a shame to have flour on your polo shirt." Lucien handed him an apron. Mundy took it and put it on without looking at it. This whole show hurt and was preposterous… "Now let me show you around the house, pray follow me."

Mundy dragged his feet on the floor and followed Lucien behind the counter.

"What sandwiches would you and Mike like, Madame Caroline?" Lucien asked.

"If you have that ham and butter, what d'you call it again, Lucien?" She answered.

"Jambon-beurre, Madame." He answered. "Mundy, please take one of those in front of you? Thank you, now, follow me to the fridge. Here is the light butter and the lean ham. I keep them on this side to not get them confused with their regular counterparts. Now, you will do your father's sandwich. Here, chopping board, a fresh baguette and a knife. Go ahead."

"L-Lucien…" Mundy sighed in front of the ingredients. "I can't."

Caroline stood up and went to the counter with Mike, customer side, while Mundy and Lucien were on the other side.

"C'mon, son, your first sandwich here, Micky! Caroline, get the camera!" Mike encouraged him.

"And we get to see you make it!" Caroline added enthusiastically and readied herself to take a picture.

"Wh-what?" Mundy asked, confused that his parents were that thrilled for… him making a couple of sandwiches.

"C'mon, cut the bread, Micky, chop, chop!" Mike said and Mundy got to work, missing the point entirely. He made the sandwich for his father and added his mother's to the plastic bag.

"I won't take one for myself." Mundy said and started undoing the apron.

"Of course not, son!" Mike answered with a chuckle and Mundy's confusion just jumped a notch.

"And what are you doing, Micky? Keep the apron!" Caroline laughed.

"What? I'm not gonna travel with that!" Mundy answered.

"Of course not!" She answered.

"What the hell's been going on? Look, this is just - it's just…!" Mundy covered his face with his hands to hide his shame. At that point he thought it was a nightmare and he would wake up.

"Ooh, we're sorry, sweetie…" Caroline hugged him. "We didn't want to upset you."

"But why…?"

"Micky, look at your apron, son." Mike said.

"Dad, look, I'm just tired. Let's go back home." Beyond the distress of leaving Lucien, Mundy felt embarrassed, ashamed to have been put on the spot with the apron, the sandwich making… What was that all about…?

"S'il te plaît, Mundy."

[Please, Mundy.]

Caroline and Mike stepped back to let Lucien get closer to Mundy. The Aussie turned his face away. He couldn't take any of it anymore.

"Mundy…?"

"Take it back and leave me alone." Mundy removed the apron completely and pushed it against Lucien's chest.

"On one condition, you look here."

Mundy sighed but obeyed. Lucien held the apron between his hands.

"What do you read here?"

The apron was white with something sewn on it. Mundy squinted. His shoulders and jaw dropped when he read the word.

Mundy

It was sewn in cursive letters. Mundy looked at Lucien's apron. His name was sewn in the same style.

"What? What's that mean?"

"It means, and forgive me for repeating myself, that I am offering you a job here." Lucien answered.

"What?! I know nothing of bread!"

"I will teach you, you will see, it isn't hard at all."

"But why? I gotta go back home…" Mundy turned to his parents.

"Micky, you can stay longer if you want." Mike said.

"Yeah, it's fine, you're a big boy and you've stayed with us long enough. Maybe this is your chance?" Caroline added and Mundy's eyes lit up with joy and excitement.

"Really?" His voice broke under the emotion he was trying to prudely contain.

"Of course!" Caroline answered. She went to the tip of her toes to put a hand on Mundy’s rough, slender cheek. "Look, for the past few weeks, we realised with your Dad that we hadn't seen you that happy in years. Each night, when you come back from your walks, you smile and even when you sleep, the smile stays on…!"

"Your Mum's right, son. If you're happy here with Lucien, then stay, at least a bit more. And it's not like you were exactly earnin' a decent wage out of a few hunting contracts, eh? Folks will find other people to deal with their beasts. You deal with you, ok?"

"Oh my God…" Mundy's tears came to his eyes faster than he could control. "Gosh…!" He hid his face and his shame with his hands.

"Aw, baby Micky…!" Caroline went to the tip of her toes to hug him and Mike tapped him on the back.

"It's alright, son, it's alright."

"But, you sure, though?" Mundy withdrew from the hug and looked his parents in the eye.

"Of course! We'll make it back home and give you a call when we get there." Caroline said, pinching his cheek gently.

"Yeah, of course!" Mike added. "Now, c'mere son." Father and son exchanged a long hug. "You make your parents proud, yeah?"

"Yeah, Dad, don't worry."

"And you be a good boy, eh?" Caroline added.

"Yes, Mum, I will."

"You look out for each other, alright boys?" Mike looked at Lucien.

"We will, Mike." The Frenchman answered. "But Mundy…?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you accept my offer?" Lucien held the apron up.

Mundy looked at his parents who nodded, then back at Lucien.

"Yeah… Please."

"Fine." Lucien got closer and put the apron on Mundy. He then tied it for him as the Aussie's eyes were riveted on his parents. Caroline was leaning on her husband's side and both wore a proud smile. Mundy hadn't seen his parents smile like that for a long, long time. "There, you are ready."

"Thanks, Lucien." They exchanged a tender gaze and didn't see Caroline's eyes light up.

"Right, boys, I think we should be on our way." Mike said.

"But of course." Lucien answered. "Here, your sandwiches for the road."

"Mum, you call me as soon as you can, ok?" Mundy said, as they all went to the front door.

"Yes, dear, don't worry."

They were now standing outside of the bakery under the beautiful and powerful summer sun.

"You call us sometimes, Micky, eh?" Mike said.

"Sure, I will."

Hugs and kisses were exchanged.

"And you, you take care of our son, alright?" Mike was shaking Lucien's hand and patted his shoulder. After that, he waved for a taxi to stop.

"I will think of him before I think of myself." Lucien answered while giving a nod.

"And Micky, you take care of Lucien too, eh?" Caroline said as she winked, making her son blush beyond his ears.

"Y-yeah Mum, will do…"

"Bye, son."

"Bye guys, careful on your way back, eh?" Mundy answered.

"We will, don't worry."

And on that, they all waved at each other as Mike and Caroline slipped in the taxi and they went their way. Lucien and Mundy stayed for a while, even after the taxi disappeared. The Aussie was out of breath, everything had happened quite fast.

“I’ll miss them.” He said.

“I will miss them too. You are lucky to have very supportive parents, Mundy.”

“Yeah… But I’m glad to stay here.”

"So…" Lucien said as both him and Mundy entered the shop again.

"Yeah?"

"Ready to learn the fine art of bread and pastry making?"

"I guess… I mean, I didn't really think it through, eh." Mundy chuckled and looked at Lucien. "But with you, anythin'."

The Frenchman smiled.

"First lesson: follow me."

They went back behind the counter and Lucien even invited Mundy in the hidden workshop, behind a wooden door. There were tables lined up in the room, fridges on one wall and ovens in the other.

"Woah… It smells incredible in here…!" Mundy said as he was hit by a wave of hot flour.

"Indeed. You will see, you will never get tired of that incomparable smell. Hot flour and sometimes, hints of sugar."

"Yeah…” Mundy inhaled deeply and when he exhaled, his eyes were half closed. That place was heaven... “Right, so what's first?"

Lucien shut the door and looked up at Mundy.

"First, I have to ask you, are you sure you want to stay with me? We can still call a taxi for you and you can join your parents."

Lucien's light blue eyes raised up to Mundy were a sight to behold for the shy Aussie.

"Y-yeah."

"Yes, what? Shall we call a taxi or…?"

"No. I wanna… Try, with you."

Lucien's smile made all his face beam up poetically. He closed the gap between Mundy and himself and hugged the taller man.

"Thank you so much." Both closed their eyes and held dearly to each other. “Thank you so much for trusting me and for believing that this is all worthwhile. I do appreciate that you are leaving everything behind just for me and… I am beyond grateful.”

Mundy bent down to put his lips next to Lucien's ear.

"Lucien?" He whispered.

"Oui?"

"I think I… I love you too." Mundy screwed his eyes shut and buried his head deep in the crook of Lucien's neck, holding Lucien not like a friend, but like the salvation he felt God sent to him through that man.

"Mundy…?"

"Yeah?"

"Look at me."

Mundy did as he was told and Lucien wrapped his arms around the Aussie's neck.

"O-oh… Right… Y-yeah?"

Lucien smiled before his eyelashes bowed down as he slowly closed his eyes. He pushed himself to the tip of his toes and did what he had dreamt of doing.

Mundy's eyes rolled up in bliss and if he froze for a second, the kiss made him soon melt such that he bent down and pulled Lucien from his back and his hip, to feel more of him against himself. He yielded to the passion of the moment, he let everything explode in him, the yearning, the longing...

It lasted for a few seconds that they both wanted to extend, but the call for air was stronger. When they broke the kiss, they stayed with their foreheads against each other.

Neither knew what to say first, to exit that moment.

"Hold on…" Mundy eventually said.

"Oui? Something is the matter?" Lucien asked.

"No but… You had an apron with my name all along?"

"Non," Lucien chuckled. "When I came back yesterday night, I spent some time thinking and smoking. I couldn't help but repeat the discussion we had in the café on loop in my head. And then I remembered what you said, that you wouldn't be able to stay without a job. That was when I got the idea to hire you."

"Oh, woah…"

"So I woke up this morning, my mind set as hard as stone. I thought that I would ask in front of your parents."

"How did you know they'd accept?"

"I think your mother felt it, for a long time."

"She felt what?"

"Mundy, she is a woman, and your mother, she feels those things. Besides, each time you have lunch here you stare at me with such insistence…!"

"What?! No, I don't!" Mundy protested and his cheeks turned red.

"Yes, you do, mon amour, and don't blush so much…" Lucien chuckled and tapped the tip of Mundy's nose.

"Did you just call me-?"

"My love, oui. Now, let us go to work - oh?!" Lucien's sentence was interrupted by an intense - if slightly awkward - kiss. Mundy held him dearly, almost clawed in his sides and Lucien smiled.

"That is quite unprofessional, hm?" The Frenchman teased.

"Well, you started it, eh?"

"Non, I did not kiss my employer."

"You kissed your employee, that's worse."

"Non, you are not my employee yet."

"What?"

"You are my apprentice…"

"Right, fair enough. What's that make you then?" Mundy asked.

"... And my lover."

"Oh, right, ok, uhm… I-I mean…"

"And very shy."

"Well…"

They spent the beginning of that afternoon in the workshop dealing with bread and pastries as they teased each other. When the time came to close the shop and go back home, Mundy's eyebrows jumped.

"H-hold on." He said on the pavement with Lucien.

"Oui?"

"I… I don't have a home here… I could probably be able to pay a couple more nights at the hotel but…"

Lucien's chuckle cut Mundy's sentence.

"Why're you laughin'? I'm telling you I'm homeless…!"

"Don't be silly, Mundy. Come." Lucien took his hand and led the way.

"Right… I s'ppose you can walk me back to the hotel…"

"Non, I will not and I am not."

"Where are we goin' then?"

"Home."

Mundy frowned in confusion but decided to wait and see. Meanwhile, he held Lucien's hand dearly in his own. A few minutes later, Lucien stopped and got some keys out of his pocket. He unlocked the door and flipped a switch.

"Meow…!"

A white cloud brushed the floor and jumped in Lucien's arms.

"Oui, mon bébé, bonsoir, Papa est rentré…"

[Yes, my baby, good evening to you too, Papa has come home…]

He kissed her countless times and carried her in his arms indeed like a baby.

"Mundy, this is Perle. Perle, this is Mundy."

"Oh, yeah, your kitty…! Hello there, pretty lady…" Mundy scratched her cheeks and jaw, and soon both Lucien and him heard her pur.

"She likes you already." Lucien said.

"I'm good with animals usually, yeah… Hold on, what d'you mean 'already'?"

"Perle," Lucien said to his cat. "Mundy here is more than just a man who knows how to scratch you perfectly."

"Meow?"

"Oui, he is Papa's very good friend."

"Meow…?"

"Fine, oui, he is Papa's… Second half."

"Meow!"

"Don't worry, you are still my baby, but now, you are our baby, because Mundy here" Lucien raised his eyes to his lover. "Mundy here will live with us."

"Wh-...? Wait, are you serious?" Mundy asked in shock at the door's threshold. Lucien pulled him in and closed the door after him.

"I am. Now, make yourself at home, and give me an instant, someone has to feed this snow white baby."

"Meow!"

Lucien went to the kitchen as Mundy opened wide eyes and observed every little thing in the room. The paintings, most of them abstract, the furniture, the brown leather sofa, the persian style carpet in front of it, on which was the coffee table. There was a fireplace too and on the mantelpiece, pictures. They were all about Perle, the white kitten who grew to a majestic, fluffy creature with mesmerising blue eyes, a bit like her master.

"One last thing Mundy…!" Lucien said from the kitchen.

"Yeah?"

"I have only one double bed!"

Mundy blushed and smiled.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #dontneedavalentine2021

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