#drinking their space version of coffee as they wake up
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I really have been thinking of Flint & Rinn non-stop for like two weeks now & im not complaining by any means.
#ive got tye horror side of things to imdulge in#where for the first week stuck on the soace cruiseliner#flint is desperately hiding from & trying to evade rinn who's hunting him down tO KILL#then transforming into their own lil romance#that both sad lonely souls get swept away into really quickly#& instead of fearing for his life & having his nerves shot as a vicious murderer is hot on his tail#instead there they are#wakibg up together & having their own cutesy routine#drinking their space version of coffee as they wake up#before prepoing for the day & flint like brushing rinn's disaster of a hair do#& flint lending a hand to help give rinn a close shave what with all those facial scars cant be an easy task smh#but anyways#their romance is fucking adorable#i want what they have sobsobs9bbb#guess ill just keep living vicariously through them uwu
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Early Riser (John Price x Reader) Smut
Based on the prompt: "Keep kissing me like that and we're gonna end up back in bed."
AN: Semi-inspired by the end of Season 1!Hotch who is excited to spend annual leave doing chores with his wife. Love it when a man enters malewife mode.
In other news, I'm gonna start a Price x Reader series soon! It's gonna be a lot of angsty pining so if that's your jam, I can't wait for you to read it!
Requests are open! Here's my guidelines to read before you send in a request and a list of kiss prompts if you're stuck for ideas.
Content warnings: Smut (18+ only, minors DNI), basically Price goes down on you in the kitchen. Reader is gender neutral and genitals described are gender neutral. No use of Y/N.
Masterlist // AO3 Version
Palms pressed into the cool granite countertop, you idly watched the space to the left of your kettle as it boiled. You had barely scrounged up the energy to leave your warm bed to get this drink; you did not have anything spare to be aware whilst you prepared it. The few aspects of your mind that were awake hoped this would fit the loophole of “a watched pot never boils” so that you could return to your room as fast as possible.
Finally, the water bubbled loudly and the switch flicked off. You poured a healthy amount into both your mug and the spare one you had for guests. Steam wafted up whilst carrying the strong scent of coffee; a splash of milk sweetened it before you prepared to stir in some sugar.
Something clamped down onto your right hip. You drew in a sharp inhale before it slid out slowly, relaxing as another hand mirrored its partner and the rest of John Price folded him up against you.
“Good morning,” You whispered.
“It is now.” John’s voice rolled off his tongue like a growl, deepened by his recent rousing from sleep. He paired his reply with a kiss on your shoulder. Briefly allowing his forehead to rest where his lips had been, he then kissed your aching neck. Your heart’s eager pulse greeted him.
“Keep kissing me like that and we’re gonna end up back in bed,” You warned, despite allowing his arms to trap you in a grip a boa constrictor would be jealous of.
John let out a gentle hum; he swayed you both from side to side in time with the clink of the spoon against your mug.
Then he mumbled, “Don’t need the bed.”
The teaspoon clattered on the countertop as his hands found their marks. Instinctively, your body keened against John’s, allowing him to rut into you whilst tenderly squeezing over your pyjamas.
Your voice came out a little whinier than expected, “Don’t want breakfast then?”
“Actually, I’m famished,” John said and his coarse facial hair tickled against your cheek, “Figured I should help myself.”
A laugh tripped over your tongue into a moan before you replied: “You’re horrible. Didn’t you get enough last night?”
“Never enough. Just ran out of steam.” Calloused fingertips found the gap between your sleep shirt and trousers. They spread warmth up your torso, cupping your chest, your shirt caught on his forearm.
“John,” You let your head fall back against him, “We have time.”
“Never enough,” he repeated. “Hate waking up and you’re not there.”
“You need me now?”
“Please.”
Freed from his grasp for a split second, you pushed the coffee cups into the sink, not caring about the spilt steaming liquid that glugged down the drain, then you shoved back the sugar pot and milk. John spun then lifted you onto the cool countertop. His body was drawn back against yours, returning his lips to your neck and the evidence of his affection he’d left last night. Your hips rose up as he yanked down your pyjamas and slid down on his knees. A grunt stuck in his throat; you held back a comment about his aging joints but not the smirk.
Instead, you scratched your nails through his hair, giving it a tender tug whenever he kissed your thigh. “You’re gonna clean this up after.”
His words were half lost against your skin, “I’ll do anything you want.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, the gutters need clearing.” You could feel his lips twitch with mirth against you before he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter. “And the oven could use a scrub.”
“Make me a list.” His hands squeezed the meat of your legs to close them around his head.
A gentle sigh escaped you, “You’re so good to me.”
Looking up at you with bleary blue eyes, John whispered, “Nothing you don’t deserve.”
And, to prove his point, he rewarded you with his tongue, talented and tenacious.
#john price#john price x reader#john price fanfic#john price smut#smut#cod#cod fanfic#cod x reader#cod mw2#cod oneshot#cod smut#my writing#r: gen#wc: 1k<
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Forgotten Demon Twin 5/?
Prev | Next
“Are you going to tell mom and dad?” Danny asked, effectively killing the silence in the car.
“I should,” Jazz said while tightening her hold on the steering wheel. She sighed, “but I’m not.”
Some of the tension melted from Danny’s body.
“You are going to tell me everything, though, right? Or at least the cliff notes version? Just so I can have some peace of mind.”
“Smooth, Jazz.”
“I’m serious, Danny. You told these people your secret identity. Before telling mom and dad!”
“I didn’t mean to! Skulker attacked, and I had to have access to my full powers to protect them!”
“You were reckless. Why didn’t you wake me up before leaving the house?”
Jazz’s voice was starting to rise higher.
“You could’ve been kidnapped!”
Danny snorted.
“I’m serious, Danny.”
“I’m fine, Jazz. I can take care of myself.”
Silence reigned in the car again. They made it back to Fenton’s Work, but neither sibling made any moves to get out.
“What I’m about to tell you can kill you, Jazz, so this is your only chance to back down.”
Jazz said nothing and folded her hands over her lap. Danny sighed.
“I was born high in the Himalayan Mountains in a hidden city called Nanda Parbat. I wasn’t born normally. I was made in an artificial womb; I wasn’t supposed to exist. My mother is the daughter of the leader of a cult called the League of Assassins.”
Jazz took an audible deep breath but kept quiet.
“My brother was supposed to be the only one born. The perfect heir to the Demon’s Head, Ibn Al Xu’ffasch. The Son of the Bat. I was named the Spare,” Danny said bitterly, “I could never measure up to my perfect older brother. I cried after I killed. I wasn’t good at fighting; I was too soft, too weak.”
“Damian was perfect. Why would they need the runt of the litter? I was exiled at seven. My grandfather is, was over 500 years old. We think. He lost track of his actual age. He used something called the Lazarus Pits; now I know it is ectoplasm. He bathed in them to keep himself alive.
“You’re using the past tense.”
Danny nodded, “Damian told me he’s dead.”
Danny took a deep breath and continued.
“Since I was a waste of space, he sent me away to see how scientists interact with the Lazarus Waters outside the League. He ordered me to kill the first three people I ended up with. I don’t know why he didn’t with you guys, but I’m glad.”
“You, mom, dad, are the only true family I’ve ever known. I sent ‘reports’ that were the most basic of basic. They can be found online. Eventually, after being here for three years, they stopped writing back. I was so relieved that they seemed to have forgotten me. I understand if you think I’m a monster. I’m a killer, Jazz.”
Jazz hugged Danny.
“You’re not a monster, Danny, and you’re not a waste of space. You’re my baby brother, and I would kill for you,” she declared, meaning it.
She noticed how Danny talked about himself compared to Damian. He believed himself lesser. She didn’t believe it. Her little brother had taken up the mantle of protector of Amity and had become the Ghost King after protecting their small city from the threat of Pariah Dark. He was a hero; he deserved to be treated as such.
“Thanks, Jazz,” he hugged his sister back, enjoying the warmth.
He let go after a while.
“There’s more. There’s a reason Damian is known as the Son of the Bat. His, our birth father, Bruce Wayne, is Batman.”
____
Damian didn’t sleep that night. He wanted it to be morning as quickly as possible so his father would call the Fentons.
How did he go from forgetting his brother to being impatient to see him? It didn’t help that he felt…something when he saw how easily Danyal followed Jasmine.
(How would it have been if he had been close to his brother? Would Danyal have looked at Damian the same way he looked at Jasmine?)
He wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t!
Damian walked into the sitting room. Father was already there, drinking a cup of coffee. He sat before his father and started chewing on some fruit.
They had gotten rooms in a themed hotel. Three guesses as to what the theme was. The whole damned city seemed obsessed with ghosts.
There was a picture of Phantom smiling into the camera.
Damian had done some research instead of sleeping. Apparently, Phantom was the main hero of Amity, though there was another heroine called the Red Huntress. There were mixed reviews of his brother. The younger generation viewed him as a hero (as they should.), while the older generation saw him as a menace.
There had been an article when Phantom had done a string of burglaries. Because of his red eyes, Damian had concluded his brother had most likely been mind-controlled. It happened. Even Superman has been mind-controlled.
“So, father, when will we be calling the Fentons.”
His father sighed and put down his coffee.
“Soon, Damian, but we must consider how we will approach this. Danny has already expressed his wishes. He doesn’t want to come with us.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’ve read into the Fentons; they’re menaces. The father has news segments for when he’s on the road! The mother has gone on record stating that all ghosts should be studied and are evil. Their papers are heavily prejudiced, with no scientific evidence to back it up. It’s clear Danyal is in danger here.”
“Damian, he’s happy here. He has people who love him.”
Damian crossed his arms, “He’s being a hero without any adult backup. He’s here alone facing Justice League-level threats.”
Bruce sighed. Damian brought up good points, but Bruce knew his son wasn’t thinking about Danny. He was thinking about assuaging his guilt. A part of Bruce wanted to do the same thing.
He could take care of Danny; he had the money. He had years of experience in the vigilante/hero business and could get other heroes to mentor his youngest son (God, another son he had failed.), but he had to consider Danny’s needs.
Bruce took a deep breath, “I’ll get your siblings. It’s time to call the Fenton.”
____
Danny woke up with a twisted stomach. It was so bad he couldn’t even eat his cereal. But he couldn’t leave either. He wanted to be there when Bruce called. Jazz sat in front of him and gave him weak smiles. Her bags were almost as bad as Danny’s.
Both Fenton siblings jumped when the phone rang.
Neither elder Fenton noticed their children’s mood.
“Fenton household,” Maddie answered.
“Hello,” Bruce’s smooth voice came through the phone. Danny thanked his advanced hearing, “May I speak to either Madeline or Jack Fenton, please?”
“Maddie Fenton speaking,” his mom said, “to whom am I speaking?”
“My name is Bruce Wayne,” his mom cut Bruce off.
“Bruce Wayne, as in Wayne from Wayne Enterprises,” his mother asked excitedly. Jack Fenton got up and put his ear close to the phone. Danny’s stomach got heavier.
“Did you finally take a look at our inventions and want to have a meeting to sponsor us?”
Considering Danny had destroyed any message his parents had sent to Wayne Enterprises for the express purpose they would never meet, the answer was no.
“No,” Bruce said, “Well, it’s hard for me to say, but I recently learned from my youngest that he has a twin. I have another son.”
Maddie and Jack looked at each other, confused.
“Yes, what does that have to do with us?”
“I have reason to believe that Daniel Fenton is my biological son, and I wish to take a DNA test.”
Next up, the Fentons officially meet Bruce and Damian Wayne
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.ೃ Barista!KickinChicken Data ࿐
Full Body & Mini Form
Name: Kickin 'Star' Chicken
Nickname: Barista, Kickin or Star
Age: Doesn't age but Barista think he is 26 years old
Birthday: Can't remember...
Gender/Pronouns: Genderfluid Male (He/Him/They)
Height: 6' 3.5" ft/191 cm
Sexuality: Pansexual
Dating Status: Used to be dating CraftyCorn but now is single
Role: Barista and a Cafe Owner... it's what Kickin think for now
Fear: Arachnophobia (Fear of Spider) and Nyctophobia (Fear of Darkness)
Likes: His sunglasses, His skate, Respectful and nice customers, Kittens, Playing makeover, The drinks and foods that he created, Singing and Surfing...
Dislike: A rude customers, Intruders, Spiders, The darkness, Evil version of himself and his friends and Remembering about the past
What the Cafe look like
[Sorry if the art look bad, this my first time drawing a building :')]
The Cafe is a 2 story house with a few plants decorated in the entrance of the Cafe; in the inside of the cafe would be like any casual cafes but there would be a smell of coffee mixed Ylang-Ylang. There's also a few posters of something that is encouraging or calming poster, there's also a poster of Barista doing a welcoming for whoever stumbled into the cafe.
On the second floor, it's where Barista is living! The second floor would have a bedroom, a small living room and lastly a bathroom! The inside of the Cafe is color in orange, yellow and pastel orange themed!
Barista!KickinChicken Backstory
KickinChicken was just like the original KickinChicken, living his best life in the colorful and beautiful world (the cartoon version but it's not completely cartoon) he was in the Smiling Critters group and befriending the other critters; DogDay, CatNap, Bubba Bubbaphant, CraftyCorn, Bobby BearHug, Hoppy Hopscotch and lastly PickyPiggy!
He also become CraftyCorn lover, have fallen inlove with the shy but caring unicorn and the person who have help him whenever he feel anxious or self-hating. Well, that was until his world suddenly destroyed, Kickin didn't remember much but he remember of how everything around him started falling down or dissapearing, even his friends... he still remember the sound of screaming coming from his friends, especially his lover.
After he wake up (yes, he fall unconscious when that happen), Kickin found himself in a place where there was nothing but white; there was no grass, no dirt or anything! Is like a blank space, Kickin would call it 'White Void'. In a place that was so unfamiliar and knowing his world is gone, Kickin have fallen into depression even crying of why he's also not being destroy like the others.
Until his star pendant started glowing, something that is unusual from the pendant that was given by CraftyCorn. When the pendant started to glow more brighter, Kickin could feel himself started changing! His body would started to grow taller and a bit bigger than his usual size, his hair/feathers getting a bit longer and a barista uniform would appear aswell!
After that transformation, Kickin have more questions running through his head and when he turn his head, he would spotted a 2-story houses or a Cafe appear out of nowhere and standing infront of him. At first, Kickin was unsure and scare until he slowly stepped inside and when he did, he could feel himself connected with the Cafe... as if he was belong in this Cafe and not only that, there was something telling him in the back of his head that his new role now... was to become a Barista and The Cafe Owner of the 'Kickin Star ☆ Cafe'
Kickin was a bit hesitated at first but he slowly accepted his fate and becoming a Barista and a Cafe Owner. His role was to help the lost traveler that got lost when traveling AU's or to help someone that needed to relax or to talk to. His cafe would only appear when someone needed to relax or wanting to sooth worries but sometime there are a few times where someone stumbled into the cafe without the Cafe coming over to them.
[And that is all, hope you understand about Barista!KickinChicken AU :D]
#kickinchicken#barista!au#smiling critters#smiling critters au#barista!au backstory#barista!au canon#my art
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covid finally got my ass after three or so years of successful dodging it; and i’m so incredibly upset that i can’t smell or taste anything. i can’t smell my favorite perfumes or lotions and I can’t taste my favorite meals. i’m still in quarantine, so i’m just hoping I regain some of it back.
concerning my question. what are the guys (different riddlers) favorite types of scents or comfort foods? something along those lines.
Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry to hear that. When I had it, I also lost taste and smell, so I feel your pain. Wishing you a swift recovery 💙
Unburied - He likes the smell and taste of cinnamon, a sweet spiciness that can't be recreated.
ZY - The taste of mint. Peppermint, spearmint, he doesn't care. It wakes up the mind and senses in a way that nothing else can.
Dano - Clean laundry. He doesn't get around to it nearly as often as would be deemed sanitary, but that just makes the nap in the warm clean sheets and clothes all the more enjoyable.
YJ - Nothing is more nostalgic to him than the taste of cheap candy. Sugary, artificial suckers and old cotton candy. It makes him slowly melt.
Gotham - Coffee. Go figure. He's one of those people who don't really drink coffee for the caffeine rather for the smell and feeling it brings.
BTAA - Spices. Any kind of spices, as both a smell and a taste. Food without spice and seasoning is food that wasn't made by a true chef.
Arkham - The smell or soldered metal and gas (psa please please don't sit and smell gas for long periods of time). To him, it smells like success. and home.
BTAS - Clean spaces. Is that weird to say? Like a nice building or store front. He likes knowing that spaces are kept tidy and the smell of floor polish really calms his nerves.
Telltale - Paper and wood. A younger version of himself liked to create and woodworking was one of his first mediums.
#riddler#the riddler#edward nashton#edward nygma#unburied!riddler#zero year riddler#capullo riddler#dano riddler#paul dano riddler#young justice riddler#gotham riddler#btaa riddler#arkham riddler#btas riddler#telltale riddler#riddlerverse hcs#Skye
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The Husband Who...
Pairing: Hajime Iwaizumi x Female Reader
Notes: Kiss kiss ❤️
I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I wrote it with lots of love
<>~<>~<>
The husband who you knew that you’d want to marry before the two of you even started dating
The husband who is your safe space
The husband who bites his tongue when in arguments with you because he wants it to be over
The husband who gently wakes you with forehead and cheek kisses on early mornings
The husband who cooks, cleans, works, shops, and somehow still finds time to bring you a coffee on a hard day
The husband who lifts you up and helps you be the best version of yourself that you can be
The husband who wastes no time with stupid arguments
The husband who takes fast showers but would stand there and hold you for forty minutes if you asked him to
The husband who spoons you every night for you to fall asleep against his warmth
The husband who laughs at all of your jokes, even if you know they’re stupid
The husband who flushes when you compliment him
The husband who never hangs up the phone before telling you that he loves you
The husband who hums to himself while he cooks when he doesn’t know you’re there listening
The husband who remembers every little detail you tell him, important or not
The husband who makes sure that you drink water and eat food daily
The husband who takes photos of you when you least expect him to
The husband who can never tell you no
The husband who goes on morning runs and always asks if you want to come with him and the dog
The husband who takes walks with you to get the mail, to enjoy the warmth of the summer or the chill of the winter air with you beside him
The husband who gives you his jacket before you can even tell him you’re feeling cold
The husband who thinks you look so cute in his clothes that he can never tell you no when you swipe his sweatshirt
The husband who’s stubborn and bullheaded, but backs down when he knows that something is important to you
The husband you can always talk to
The husband who runs you a warm shower and washes your body for you
The husband who paints your toenails the best that he can when you ask
The husband who bathes with you and rubs your shoulders while you lean back against him
The husband who keeps his phone volume up so that if you call him, he doesn’t miss it
The husband who always apologizes first
The husband who takes care of you when you’re sick
The husband who snores in his sleep
The husband who thinks he’s bad at gift-giving but always gives you something personal
The husband who shares his food with you and eats what you don’t like off of your plate
The husband who texts you when he thinks about you throughout the day
The husband who…
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#haikyuu x female reader#haikyuu x female reader fluff#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu hajime iwaizumi#hajime iwaizumi x reader#hajime iwaizumi x reader fluff#hajime iwaizumi x female reader#hajime iwaizumi fluff#hajime iwaizumi
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how to romanticize school
˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
she looked forward to studying after school, she had her little ritual; make coffee in her favorite mug, play soft music, set up her desk, open the windows. homework was never a chore, its a stimulating mental exercise; a game.
watch motivating shows - watching shows like gilmore girls, gossip girl, etc will help you gain some motivation to keep trying in school and gives you specific characters (like rory or blair), that will give you a reason to study.
make your homework aesthetic - buy different colored pens, highlighters, or anything else that will help you make your notes more “pretty”. using different colors to organize your work keeps you organized, and helps you separate different subjects/topics.
playlists playlists playlists - making a playlist for different parts of your school life will help you romanticize school, since you are adding a soundtrack to your daily life.
drink coffee/tea - having a drink that you enjoy at school will help you feel more present while you are there, and will help motivate you to wake up in the mornings.
wear outfits you like - go to school in outfits that show off your style, so you truly feel like you are showing up to school, not someone else. wearing outfits you like also motivates you to go, since you would to show off your outfits to everyone else.
study outside, in a cafe or in a library - studying somewhere else besides your bed makes you more productive, and allows you to be really focused while you are trying to do work. you can also have study dates with friends, so you can look forward to studying everyday.
make friends - try to make as many friends as you can in the beginning of the year, since it will help you feel more motivated to go to school.
stay organized - tidy up your space often so you won’t lose anything important. keeping organized will also allow your things to be clean, which will make you look more put-together.
think about reasons to be excited for school - cool air and changing leaves, taking pretty notes, rainy days studying, learning about new things and wanting to know more, feeling a sense of accomplishment from completing assignments and good grades.
now become the best version of yourself! ☕️📚🍂
#clean moodboard#clean girl#self care#self confidence#self healing#self love#self development#pink pilates girl#green juice girl#glow up#glow#level up#high value woman#manifesation#manifesting#that girl#tips#pink pilates princess
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I just gotta say- I usually don't like established relationship fics (Even if it's just like friends) because it always feels like you're... missing something. There's a detachment for me, usually, because I don't get to see how this relationship is formed. Not really. I miss those first glances, the awkward meetings, just all that fluff and yearning as the relationship develops that I guess my heart craves?
But you write in a way that includes that, like the scene in your latest piece where reader is laying on the couch, thinking of all the happy memories and such that have happened in that space. It's a very fine line between telling and showing that you dance immaculately, so it doesn't feel like exposition... because it really isn't? It fills that craving for seeing how the relationship is forming even without the events unfolding directly in front of my eyes. I don't know how else to explain it, just... it's good. It's really, really good. You did the same thing in Euclidean Line, if I remember correctly (God I'm really feeling the urge to reread that one), where there was... sort of a montage, for lack of a better word? When Donnie and reader (don't know what else to call them) were getting closer outside of their meet-ups. Usually I hate time-skips or the author explaining something that I'd really rather just read, but you do it in a way that makes it feel like you're not missing too much, there's still just a bit left to the imagination. I'm sure it's for time's sake/not wanting the fic to drag, something like that? But it's hard to come across an author that does it so well and I appreciate it so much. I swear, I need to start taking notes on the little subtleties of your writing because just. Ugh. I really want to be able to explain myself better it's just good!!
Can't wait to read literally whatever you put out next!! You're one of few authors where it doesn't matter what you're writing, I'll read it anyways. I really wasn't a huge fan of bayverse until I saw you writing the turtles (Among a few others) now I uh. Might have to go back and watch those movies again.
But eat food, drink water, and I hope your wrists are nice to you!! Mine have been sensitive lately so it's more on the forefront of my mind, I haven't seen you mention it so I've just been hoping things have been better on that side for you. I hope you can get some good sleep too, even when you're able to write through it I still kinda worry!! Like I know you're a fully capable adult but. So am I and insomnia is ass, so... yeah I just hope things go well for you!!
it's funny you should say that, as for the longest time, i Hated putting time skips in my writing. abhorred it. would do it as little as possible. because there's so much characterization you can squeeze out of the smallest details, right? like, when they wake up. what do they do? do they drink coffee? tea? how do they take their coffee? do they get dressed before or after breakfast?
but there's an amount of characterization that becomes... excessive. like, sure, the character feels more like an actual person because of this. but does it serve the fic? i balk at the traditional writing advice that "every sentence must progress the plot," because i love basking in seemingly unimportant moments; but i do think there's truth to a modified version of that thought. "every detail must serve the fic."
take symphony, for example. in the first chapter, i go into detail on what viola-chan includes in her apology bags for her neighbors. at first glance, it could seem like a small list of that doesn't really add anything to the character. it certainly doesn't add anything to the plot. and yet, you learn a lot of what she values, what things she sees as important. she has a hobby (two homemade cookies), she doesn't like pain (ibuprofen), she's comfortable financially (the gift card for coffee), she Will practice even though it's annoying to hear (the ear plugs), but she's also kind enough to bend those rules for extenuating circumstances (her phone number, so you can call and ask her to take a break "if you have a baby or something"). it's an efficient way to get across a lot of character development, even though it feels like an unnecessary detail.
learning to balance how much you can skip and how much you should include for your desired amount of characterization is something that comes with experience, and it's something that comes down to taste. as you noted, i like to include things from skips that make them seem Less like a skip, and more like things you didn't see but still know about. this works for established relationships, too. how did they get together? well, maybe that's not so important. but a little hint of it is enough to show that it's real, that it's an event that happened, even if you the reader don't explicitly see it. there are many people who would find my writing excessively detailed, which is fine, as i would find theirs excessively barren. as with most things in art, it's largely subjective.
anyway, too-long answer aside, so glad you're enjoying and thank you so much for your thoughtful message :D
#ask tag#my wrist has been doing well lately as i've been much more diligent about not overdoing things. it means im writing more slowly but#not having to stop completely for a few days because i'm in so much pain is a nice trade off for that c:#so sorry to hear that you're having sensitivity as well. do make sure to stretch and rest them well!#oh. i mentioned symphony. maybe i should. hm. i suppose so#symphony meta
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Camp Wanamaker (Ch 7/10)
August 13, 2023
Notes - First of all, Eleanor, I just want to say that I got the notification for your next part as I was getting in bed last night, and if forcing myself to not read it yet wasn't torture enough, I made myself finish this chapter so I'd have that as a reward. I'll probably have to read it in the morning now as I'm exhausted tonight, but I am so excited to get into it! You have no idea! Second, there are so many scrapped versions of this chapter, it's insane! I really just wanted to focus on the relationships and how they work. I was going to post this yesterday, but ended up deleting most of the last part so that I could really focus on the ending. In the end, this chapter is, probably, one of the most easter-egg-filled ones I’ve written so far, and I’m immensely proud of it.
Chapter 7 - Lay All Your Love On Me
For the first time in two weeks, silence permeated the air of Camp Wanamaker. It wasn’t unusual, per se, to have some semblance of quiet after the campers left the grounds, but after getting used to the noise and excitement that filled every open space of the camp, the silence was almost too much for many of the workers. Thankfully, the silence hadn’t been there for long as rain filled the area. A week of nothing but rain and cloudy, dreary days had been forecasted for the majority of New Hampshire as a storm from Nova Scotia loomed closer and closer to the coastal state.
Many of the camp’s staff were glad the clouds had waited for the campers to flee the area before unleashing their downpours, while others were simply glad to receive some form of reprieve from the scorching temperatures and chokingly thick humidity. Those with breathing difficulties had found safety in buildings with air conditioning units throughout the weeks, but as everyone adjusted to the cool rain, the metal window fixtures were found to be practically pointless.
As the familiar, chirpy rhythm of an almost too-upbeat eighties song echoed over the speakers as a wake-up call, Mick looked up from the novel she had been reading for well over an hour. Rolling her eyes with a smirk, she softly began singing along to the lyrics as Dead or Alive’s mega-hit song You Spin Me Round (Like A Record) played throughout the camp. She wasn’t too surprised by the choice as Vivien’s grandfather had played a majority of eighties hits over the last seven weeks of camp, but as Miles stumbled his way out of his room looking as though he would break the camp’s announcement system if given the chance, it seemed as though not everyone was as thrilled by the choice as she was.
Watching as Miles grumbled a greeting to those on the couch before making his way down the hallway toward the kitchen, Mick shook her head and returned to her book. She often wondered how he had managed to survive without Vivien’s coffee concoctions first thing in the morning. She could recall making coffee runs for him early on in their friendship, bringing him three cups of coffee throughout the workday just to get him functioning properly. Now that he had Vivien personally making him some of whatever blend she normally fixed for herself in the morning, he was drinking a bit less and still getting through just fine. Granted, even if Vivien’s mystery blend had tasted like nothing more than watered-down dirt in a mug, she was sure Miles still would have drunk it. He needed caffeine to function and, if that meant chugging his way through disgustingly mud-like sludge in a cup, Mick knew he would do just that to get some semblance of alertness.
As the main character of her book, Beatrice Prior, followed the tour guide through the Dauntless compound, Mick distantly overheard Vivien and Royce snickering in the hallway as they made their way to the living room from the kitchen. She couldn’t hear most of what they were saying, but she could guess it had to have something to do with Miles as Royce mentioned something about the flavored creamer they would have to replace sooner rather than later. As the pair made their way through the living room, prying Bentley from his spot on the couch as they went, Mick looked up from her book, making sure the young trio stayed out of the rain as they headed outside to sit on the porch swing.
It wasn’t odd for them to sit outside while it rained, but Mick knew they had a tendency to sit on the steps or on the sand near the deck, letting the rain soak them until they looked more like drowned possums than anything. The last thing she wanted was for one of them to get sick on their week off. However, much to Mick’s pleasure, they simply took their places on the porch swing and began reading together. Grateful that the screen door allowed her to observe them from a distance, Mick hummed softly to herself before returning to her book. After a while, Riven joined them outside and Mick’s senty-like watch fell as she relaxed further into the couch’s cushions. The kids were safe with Riven around; that was all she needed to know.
They wouldn’t have long to sit around and relax before breakfast, that much she knew, but the draw of her book was too strong to fight. After spending the last week standing in for a girl named Hayden who suffered a case of sun poisoning and could barely move, let alone act in their murder mystery plot, Mick felt she deserved a break. She wasn’t an actress and, despite how welcoming and reassuring everyone had been when she joined them in the mess hall for a quick practice every morning, the week had been nothing but stress for her. Getting thrown a new script after dinner every day and having to put on a good show for the campers wasn’t as easy as everyone else made it out to be.
Mick didn’t look up again until the couch shifted, the newcomer’s weight tilting her slightly to the right. Glancing at Miles from the corner of her eyes, Mick placed her index finger between the pages of her book as a bookmark and closed it, leaning her head on Miles’ shoulder as he leaned his head back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The two sat in silence for a while, the only noises in the area being the heavy droplets of rain and the occasional chirp of the kids’ voices. With everything going on, a majority of the camp’s staff hadn’t had the opportunity to sit in relative silence, but to Mick, it felt like something more meaningful than that.
She and Miles had known each other for over three years at that point and, despite the time they spent with everyone else, they hardly had the time to spend one-on-one time with each other. With how busy everyone was that summer, she wasn’t surprised that they couldn’t find the time to just relax and hang out, but even before the summer started, Miles was always with the kids or Carrie, spending little time with Mick or Butchy. She wasn’t one to complain as she knew the kids were Miles’ top priority, but she sort of missed being able to sit around on the couch, talking with Miles, or playing video games with him like old times.
Granted, it wasn’t just with Miles that Mick felt this way. Though she would hate to admit it, she had begun to feel rather lonely. She would never voice her feelings, though. Everyone had so much on their plates already and, if she were to unleash all that had piled up in her head, it would only add to the mounting levels of stress everyone was already under. That was the last thing she wanted. For the time being, she would simply have to suck it up and deal with her emotions on her own. She could handle herself. Besides, even if someone were to call her out on her behavior, she could easily blame it on her period; it was almost a week later than normal anyway and wouldn’t be an outlandish excuse.
Just as she was about to lift her head from Miles’ shoulder, she felt him shift, his head lifting from the couch and his arm pulling out from under her to wrap around her shoulders. As she brought her arm around her makeshift brother’s middle, a light pressure to her hair had Mick tightening her grasp on him. Miles sighed as he asked, “Are you feeling alright?”
Shrugging minutely, Mick breathed, “Just tired.”
Miles lightly squeezed Mick’s shoulder and rubbed at her upper arm as he snickered, “That’s supposed to be my job, Mickie.”
Allowing her eyes to close, Mick chuckled airily, “In that case, it sounds like you’d better put in for unemployment because I’m taking your job today.”
Miles allowed himself to smile, but as he peered down at the younger girl, he could feel his expression falter. Dark circles inhabited the usually tan skin under Mick’s eyes, her normally sun-kissed skin appeared paler than normal, and her lips were drawn together in a tight line. He had seen her like this before when she was sick, but as far as he knew, Mick hadn’t been sick for almost a year. She was far healthier than most people Miles knew and her immune system was something of an impenetrable fortress, so for her to look physically ill and drained of color, something had to be wrong. Granted, her appearance could have been due to stress or lack of sleep, but it still worried Miles all the same.
Just as he was about to voice his concerns, Butchy entered the room, tucking his cell phone into his back pocket as he smiled at the pair on the couch. Before the older of the two bikers could greet them, Miles raised his free hand and gestured for him to stop. Once Butchy had stilled by the end of the couch, an eyebrow raised questioningly toward his long-time friend, Miles pointed toward Mick before silently asking if she was okay. Butchy shrugged, not having spent much time with his wife in the last week due to their conflicting schedules. Leaning to the side slightly and taking a better look at Mick’s appearance, however, Butchy regretted not setting aside time for her sooner.
Meeting Miles’ worried gaze once more, Butchy opened his mouth to greet them when a certain blonde stepped into the room from the hallway, calling out a chirpy, “Good morning!”
As Mick’s eyes peeled open, Butchy attempted to act as though he had just entered the room, taking a place on the couch as his wife and Miles gave greetings of their own to Carrie. As Mick sat up to give Miles and Carrie the opportunity to spend some time together, Butchy watched from the other side of the couch, making sure she was moving well enough and checking to see if he needed to help her in any way. His wife settled in with her book as Carrie curled into Miles’ left side and, while Butchy would typically make some snide remark about her or try to goad her into an argument of some sort, he couldn’t find it in himself to try. Despite Carrie’s clipped remark about how quiet it was that morning - a sign that even she had noticed Butchy’s silence - he couldn’t bring himself to care. His focus was solely aimed at Mick as she turned from one page to another.
By the time the breakfast notice echoed through the grounds, Carrie and Miles had left the cabin to sit outside with the kids, leaving Butchy and Mick to their own devices. Butchy was almost certain that Miles would use the time to tell the others that something wasn’t quite right with Mick - his brotherly instincts toward the young woman too strong to fight - and he was grateful for the peace and quiet all the same. Mick either hadn’t noticed their solitude or simply hadn’t voiced her opinion on the situation, but either way, it allowed Butchy to move across the couch and get a closer look at his wife’s condition.
Apart from her tired outward appearance, Butchy couldn’t be sure if anything was wrong. She hadn’t coughed or sneezed, she hadn’t rushed to the bathroom to be sick, and she wasn’t shuddering from a cold shiver that nobody else seemed to have. If it weren’t for her skin taking on a pale, sunken-in appearance, he wouldn’t be worried. She looked exhausted and Butchy hoped that it was just that - exhaustion. He hoped it wasn’t something serious. He wasn’t quite sure how he would handle it if it was something more than that.
Regardless, as the call for breakfast came through over the speakers and the others came inside to grab raincoats or umbrellas, Butchy watched as Mick tucked a sticky note into the book she had been occupied with and rose from the couch, making her way toward the coat rack where she grabbed her trusty poncho. Butchy was quick to follow her, hoping to keep an eye on her as much as he could until he could figure out what was wrong. He would give her a few days and check in with her to see how she was holding up. Maybe she just needed to take a break and recuperate from the stress of the previous week. Yeah, Butchy thought to himself, maybe that was it.
Weathermen were good liars. Anyone in the northeastern United States could tell you that. It seemed as though all the news companies decided to band together one day and lie to everyone about the weather for the rest of human existence. If they forecasted hurricane-force winds or strong thunderstorms, the most any New Englander would feel were some light breezes or a drizzling of rain. It was when they reported sunshine that you knew something was up. Unless you were already dealing with a heat wave, you knew that smiling cartoon of a sun wearing sunglasses on the television screen would be taunting you with the idea of a nice, warm, sunny day.
The ever-changing, New England weather was nothing new to Hayley Mays. She had grown up in New Hampshire’s bipolar weather; her skin thickening with the winter cold and tanning with the summer sun. Almost all of her thirty-eight years of life had been spent either swimming in the nearby lake or shoveling snow out of her neighbors’ driveways with her sister. And she had done both of those things in the same week more than once.
Hayley had grown used to the weatherman’s constant lies. Brian Strzempko and his pack of lies greeted her nearly every morning when she would go downstairs for breakfast at her parents’ house, spouting off about the expected hail or “three inches” of snow. Every morning, she would roll her eyes; someone needed to get that man a ruler. Nowadays, Hayley and Charlie would get their news off of their phones and, even though Hayley still refused to believe whatever the forecast was, she knew Charlie still had the false hope that whoever made the forecast would be right. Granted, Charlie wasn’t from New England and presumably trusted the meteorologists back in Virginia.
Hayley had been fairly surprised when she discovered in college that the news anchors in Virginia didn’t lie nearly as much as they did in her home state. When she had questioned Charlie about it, her - at the time - twenty-year-old friend was confused, but it was obvious that the confusion had quickly washed away after she moved to New Hampshire a handful of years down the road. Regardless of the weathermen and the lies they fed the people, Charlie still checked her weather app religiously and Hayley still wondered why.
Take that Monday, for example. The forecast called for a party-cloudy day with a high of eighty-one degrees - a simple, sunny day with low humidity. Despite Hayley’s discrete eye roll as her beloved wife read out the forecast over their morning tea session, Charlie had chosen to wear her finest pair of overall shorts and a pink, frilly tee with lace lining. Hayley, on the other hand, kept it simple with a pair of gray shorts she’d bought from the men’s section for extra length and a shirt from an old bowling alley she had worked at, keeping her clear plastic, raincoat wrapped around her waist for the inevitable downpour.
She wasn’t going to admit defeat as they touched down on the pine-needle-laden ground, the sun blaring down overhead. Even as the sun rose higher and the heat began to grow, Hayley refused to hang her coat up. As she and Charlie parted ways - Hayley busying herself with painting while Charlie worked with the playhouse staff to set up for the next two weeks of play practice - she handed her trust raincoat to her wife with a knowing smile and a bid of good luck and made her way to the art barn.
Having gotten quite used to the presence of her biological daughter’s best friend, Hayley offered Bentley a gentle smile as the boy looked up from the lump of clay he was attempting to shape. “How’s it coming, little man?”
“It’s not,” Bentley sighed as Hayley approached him. “I was trying to make a coffee mug for Miles but my foot hit the pedal while I was smoothing it with the spatula thing and I ended up stabbing a hole in it and it caved in on itself.”
“Yeesh,” Hayley cringed, examining the blob of clay on Bentley’s tray. “Starting from scratch again?”
“I’m gonna try,” Bentley nodded, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.
Pushing the boy’s hair from his face, Hayley grabbed an extra elastic from her wrist and secured his hair in a little bump before pressing a kiss to his forehead with a smile of encouragement. “Well, you know where to find me if you need help.”
“And I probably will,” Bentley chuckled.
Hayley nudged the teenager as she began walking away, “You and I both know that isn’t true. You’re an incredible artist, Ben.”
“Thanks, Aunt Hayley.”
Hayley’s hand froze as she searched the drying racks for the canvas she had been working on recently. It wasn’t often that Vivien’s friends called her by anything more than her first name or “Vivien’s aunt” - save for Riven, who had always claimed he considered her the aunt he never had. While she welcomed the term with ease normally, this was the first time Bentley had chosen to do so. Turning to smile at the young boy, Hayley watched as he worked on the clump of clay before him, having already moved on from the conversation.
Taking in a breath, Hayley hummed softly and pulled her canvas from the racks, setting up an easel near the window so that she could watch the weather change and keep an eye on the youngest boy at the camp. While they worked, Hayley found herself listening as the young boy to her left began humming old songs, occasionally joining him when she knew the tune. Whether he noticed or not, she didn’t know, but the small, wordless interaction brought a smile to her face all the same. Just as they worked their way to the chorus of Elvis Presley’s famous “(You’re the) Devil In Disguise”, a deep growl of thunder rumbled overhead, signaling a storm inbound.
Glancing out the window at the playhouse where everyone began carrying things inside to keep them safe from the rain, Hayley snickered softly to herself, “Told ya so.”
“Huh?” Bentley wondered, looking over from his seat.
Hayley shook her head with a smile, “Just something I said to Charlie this morning.”
Shrugging, Bentley returned to his work and Hayley glanced out the window once more, watching as her wife hastily grabbed a piece of plastic from one of the nearby picnic tables and pulled it over her shoulders, tugging the hood over her head in disbelief as she began instructing her fellow staff members on where to put everything. Hayley grinned as she returned to her painting, allowing the gentle pattering of rain on the roof to ease her back into her work. However, it wasn’t long before the door of the art barn swung open and slammed shut once again, revealing a rather soaked Makana Birch.
As the girl turned to rest against the door, wide-eyed and out of breath from running, Hayley got a good look at her. The girl’s cheap, knock-off Converse squelched puddles on the hardwood floors, her hair clung to her skin as though it had been glued down, and her shirt would have been see-through if it wasn’t red, but that wasn’t what caught Hayley’s eye. Instead, it was Mick’s pair of recently tie-dyed, terry cloth shorts that clearly didn’t get rinsed out well enough as they dripped a myriad of colors down the girl’s legs. It didn’t seem as though Mick noticed the issue as she stared up at the ceiling and fought to catch her breath, but Hayley quickly realized Bentley had seen it as well.
Before Bentley could say anything, Hayley stood from her seat and put a hand on his shoulder, lightly shaking her head when he looked up at her. Nodding understandingly, Bentley watched as Hayley crossed the room and grabbed a towel from the closet where they kept some backup umbrellas and rain ponchos along with the cleaning supplies. Handing Mick the towel, Hayley made sure she was breathing well enough before asking, “What happened to you?”
Wrapping the soft towel around her shoulders, Mick sucked in a breath and explained, “We were cleaning the pool and got the town’s all-call about some potential tornados in the area. Noah and some of the others took off to warn the people in the music hall and dance studio while I put everything away. This is my first stop.”
“And your last,” Hayley commented, prying Mick from the door and ushering her to a chair that had enough dried paint on it that it could probably be kept in an art exhibit.
“What do you mean?” Mick asked, using the ends of the towel to dry her face slightly as Hayley led her away.
This time, it was Bentley who answered as he wheeled his seat over toward Mick, “You look like you’re bleeding a rainbow out of your shorts.”
Moving the towel from her face, Mick looked down and let out a shocked breath as she took in the state of her legs. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she whined. “I just made these shorts two days ago!”
Bentley attempted to hide his smirk as he said, “Now they look like the inside of a bag of M&Ms when you hold it too long.”
Mick let out a disgruntled noise as she dropped into her chair, examining her stained skin with a look of disdain. “How on earth am I going to get this off?”
“We’ll try some petroleum jelly,” Hayley spoke calmly. “That’s how I used to get hair dye of my skin. If it doesn’t work, we’ll get some rubbing alcohol or acetone. We’ll find a way to get it off.”
Mick heaved a sigh, glancing at her hands to make sure she hadn’t gotten dye on her fingers before running them through her hair, pushing clinging strands from her face. “I think I’m going to go back to the cabin. Maybe a shower will get some of it off.”
“Maybe,” Bentley commented. “I’ll bring some acetone just in case.”
Mick brushed him off with a wave of her hand, “I should be fine. I think there should still be some under the sink from when Vivien painted Miles’ nails while he was sleeping.”
Hayley let out a snort of laughter, “He sure has his work cut out for him with that kid around.”
Mick nodded, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips as she rose from her chair. Handing the towel back to Hayley, she sighed, “I’d better go before everyone crowds the place. I’ll see you guys later.”
Though Hayley looked ready to argue for the girl to stay until the rain lightened, Mick made her exit quick, clicking the door shut behind herself before running down the path toward the beach. Making her way toward the front of the building, Hayley watched Mick run toward where the sand and grass met, keeping an eye on her until she disappeared from sight. “Hm,” she hummed to herself as she slowly turned toward Bentley, “did she seem alright to you?”
Bentley shrugged as he folded the chair Mick had sat on and set it aside. “She was probably just upset about her shorts.”
Hayley nodded thoughtfully; it was plausible. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
When Butchy arrived back at the lodge Monday night, his wife was nowhere to be found. Despite reassurances from both Bentley and Hayley that Mick had returned safely to the wooden cabin, he didn’t allow himself to relax until he saw her silently leave her room. He had followed her to the kitchen area, hoping to figure out why he hadn’t seen her, but she simply explained that she’d had a rough day and wanted time alone to breathe. After spending three years with his now-wife, Butchy understood the silent signal he had been given and allowed her to return to her room with the Hot Pockets she had heated in the microwave. The last time he had seen her that night was when he hesitantly knocked on her door to wish her a good night.
The fog that flooded the area on Tuesday morning brought with it the first sign of sunshine. The distant rays that glowed through the dense fog cast hazy shadows over most of the campground. Although the glowing ball of fire in the sky tried its hardest, it wasn’t quite strong enough to break through the thick clouds and the lingering fog. With more rain forecasted to come in the next few days, it was no surprise that the sky remained gray despite the rising sun pushing its way over the horizon.
Butchy sat on the edge of his bed as he took in the ominous fog that covered the lake like a thick blanket on a cold winter morning. Rainwater from the roof sloshed through the clunky white gutter pipe that rattled against the outer wall of his bedroom, but Butchy paid it little mind. He had listened to it every day it rained and the sound felt more like background noise than an annoyance. As he rose from his bed, Butchy smiled to himself. He was sure that, if Vivien’s grandfather chose the right song, it would feel like they had stepped onto the set of some sort of summer camp, slasher movie from the eighties. Then, just as quickly as the thought had come into his mind, it left as he heard the faintest click from outside his bedroom.
Inching his way to the door, Butchy slowly turned the handle and pulled the door of his room open just enough to see a head of wavy, caramel hair go through the archway into the living room. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and sighed softly; he didn’t want her to feel ambushed first thing in the morning. Hoping to give Mick some time for herself, Butchy wasted a few minutes tidying his already fairly neat room and putting a few clothes in the hamper he would be bringing to the laundry all too soon. After checking his clock once more, Butchy tucked his cell phone into his pocket and grabbed a book from the dresser he had left by the door before heading into the hallway and making his way toward the living room.
Sure enough, Mick had tucked herself into the corner of the couch as she seemed to do almost every day, her nose buried in a book as she curled herself as close as she could to the back of the couch. The only light she had came from a small, clip-on lamp that Mick had bought ages ago at the dollar store - a cheap, plastic little light that just barely held its angled shape and flickered like a strobe light at a rave if she dared to shift her hands anywhere near the clasp - but after using it for so long, she had grown accustomed to the cheap light and its idiosyncrasies. Butchy had tried to replace the little lamp for her so she wouldn’t have to fight with it so much, but she had stated more than once that she was fine with it and would continue to use it until the light gave out on her. As Mick flipped a page and the light objected to the movement, Butchy heard her muttering a plea for the lamp to continue doing its job as he leaned against the archway.
“You know,” he began, a smile on his face as Mick lifted her gaze from the flickering light before her, “one of these days, that little thing just might electrocute you.”
Mick rolled her eyes, a small grin appearing on her face as she retorted, “If that were to happen, my gravestone would say I died doing what I loved.”
As he approached his wife, Butchy let out a breath of a laugh, “Ah, so you love books more than me?”
“No,” Mick replied with ease as she sat up, allowing Butchy to fill the space between her back and the arm of the couch if he desired, “but if my headstone said that and I died while I was ‘doing you’, that might change the meaning a little bit.”
“Maybe a little,” Butchy agreed as he slid into the space his wife offered him. Once they had relaxed into a comfortable position once more and Butchy felt Mick let out a slow, deep breath as she reclined against him, he asked, “How are you feeling this morning?”
Tucking her makeshift bookmark into the novel in her hands, Mick sighed and set the book aside, “Tired.”
“Did you not sleep well?” Butchy asked. Before Mick could answer, he added, “You could have come to my room for the night; you know that, right?”
“I know,” Mick reassured as she shifted, peering up at her husband, “I think it’s just the weather dragging me down. The heat and humidity were bad enough, but the rain the past few days has just added to it. Now, I feel so drained and I don’t know how to push past it.”
As Butchy threaded his fingers into Mick’s hair, a familiar tingle of electricity coursing up his arm at the contact, he took in a deep breath. He never liked to see Mick upset, especially when he had no idea how to help her. He couldn’t change the weather for her, he couldn’t alter her emotions, and, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t read her mind to figure out what was truly bothering her. Although he could feel the slightest hint of uselessness seeping into his skin at the idea of being unable to help his wife, Butchy swallowed thickly and pushed his thoughts aside, pushing a smile onto his face as he wondered, “Why do you have to push past it?”
“What do you mean?” Mick questioned, her eyebrow lifting ever so slightly.
“The last few weeks have been nothing short of overwhelming for you,” Butchy stated. “You’ve been an archery instructor, a lifeguard, and an accomplice to a made-up murder while also dealing with an absurd amount of children and heat. Why not just take the week to relax and let yourself recover?”
With a sigh, Mick shook her head, “I have to get the pool ready; I can’t take time off like that when they need me.”
“You and I both know that the other lifeguards are more than capable of getting everything there ready.”
“I also have to help with setting up everything in the playhouse this week and making sure everything moves the way it’s supposed to on stage.”
“And I’m sure that the kids would be willing to help if we asked them to,” Butchy tried.
“I can’t ask that of them,” Mick said. “Besides, I promised I would help - I can’t just not show up.”
Butchy tried not to sigh. It was times like these he wished he could make Mick see things through his eyes. Her determination to help people was something he adored about her, but it was also one of her greatest faults. She tended to spread herself paper-thin and would refuse to back down from any commitments she had made despite the overbearing stress that would mount on her shoulders. It was something he was trying to work with her on as she realized just how much of a toll it was putting on herself. However, Butchy knew that now was not the time to try to work things out as she seemed adamant and unwavering.
Instead of arguing his point with Mick, Butchy allowed a small grin to tug at his lips as he pulled her head down, resting her ear over his chest. “Alright,” he relented, “but we’re still going to get some extra help.”
“Why?”
“Because you and I are taking the day off on Saturday,” Butchy said. “We’ll hop in the truck and get away from everything for a day. How does that sound?”
“Heavenly,” Mick breathed.
“Good,” Butchy sighed. “It’ll give us both something to work toward through the week.”
Mick let out a long breath, shifting to lie on her stomach as she brought her arms around her husband’s middle, “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me,” Butchy muttered as he pressed a kiss to Mick’s hair. “You know I would do anything for you.”
“Mhm,” Mick hummed, nodding against Butchy’s shirt as she squeezed him. “And I would for you.”
With their books seemingly forgotten in favor of the comfort they absorbed from the other person’s presence, Mick and Butchy relaxed on the couch, curled up in the corner as they waited for the sun to rise. After an hour or two, the announcement system would crackle to life with some song off of the hastily thrown-together playlist Vivien had sent her grandparents after the first staff meeting seven, almost eight weeks prior. For the time being, they had each other and that was all that mattered. There was no need to rush the morning along. Besides, by the time everyone else chose to pry themselves from their blankets and join them in the living area, they would most likely be invested in their novels; still curled close to each other, but far more relaxed as they squeezed each other's hands before turning a page and celebrated the end of a chapter with a kiss.
Despite Mick trying to convince Butchy to leave well enough alone, he had still asked the kids to help out with the duties Mick had signed herself up for. With Bentley and Royce helping in the playhouse and Vivien dragging Noah and his girlfriend into helping her at the pool, things seemed to finish a lot faster than they normally would have. By noon on Wednesday, everything in the playhouse was set for the upcoming performance, and the pool had been drained, cleaned, re-filled, shocked, and prepped for the upcoming weeks. With nothing else to do for the rest of the day, Mick was stationed with Vivien and Riven in the main office, the three of them trying to figure out what the next week would bring.
It wasn’t odd for the three to be pulled aside and asked to help in the office as they were three staff members who had grown up in the camp and knew what most kids wanted. However, as the mid-week rush of phone calls from eager parents practically glued Riven to the chair by the phone as he reassured everyone that their payments had gone through and that their children were on the roster for the upcoming weeks, the task of figuring out something to do for the next week or so was left solely on the shoulders of two brunettes.
“We can’t just do water balloon fights every day of the week, Viv,” Mick argued with a roll of her eyes. “Not only would it get boring after a few days, but it would also be a pain in the ass to clean up.”
“Not if we got those reusable ones off of TikTok!” Vivien tried. When she took in the unwavering look in Mick’s eyes, she sighed and scratched the idea off of her list, “Fine. How about doing a gold rush?”
“We did that last year,” Mick sighed, tapping her pencil on the table. “Five teenagers got into a fight in the makeshift saloon and we had to bring two of them to the emergency room with broken body parts.”
“Okay,” Vivien breathed, crossing out yet another of her ideas.
“How about we do a monster mash?” Mick suggested, resting the eraser of her pencil next to the idea. “We haven’t done that in a few years.”
“And with good reason,” Vivien snickered. “Remember that kid who dressed up like a Demogorgon and snuck into Kittery Cabin in the middle of the night? Grandpa and Nonna had to deal with calls from angry parents for weeks afterward because of all the nightmares the kids were having.”
“Guess we can cross that off too,” Mick muttered as she blocked off another idea. After scanning her list again, Mick crossed off a few more ideas and sighed, “I think that’s all of my ideas. Please tell me you have something good on yours.”
Vivien hummed thoughtfully, looking over her list and sighing as she crossed a few off the list. Bringing everyone figure skating or horseback riding wasn’t the greatest of ideas, water balloon dodgeball was off the table, they didn’t have enough time to put together a Ninja Warrior course, game show weeks never went well, and junkyard wars always ended up with broken friendships as everyone fought to have their machine made a certain way. With everything else crossed off, Vivien was left with a total of three ideas on her extensive paper, and, to her dismay, only one of them seemed good enough to be used.
“Well,” Vivien drawled hesitantly, “the carnival is coming to Laconia next week.”
“The carnival?”
“Yeah,” Vivien nodded, “you know, like with the Ferris wheel, the Round-Up, and the Yo-Yo? Someone always gets sick after one of the Pharoh rides and the whole place has this overwhelming smell of fried dough, snow cones, and popcorn?”
Of course, Mick knew what she meant. She had been to the carnival every year for as long as she could remember. Whether it was riding in the spinning pumpkins or zipping along on Rockstar Racers, Mick had always enjoyed the local carnival. Taking everyone to the carnival for the week would be a fun break from the norm and, in theory, it could work. Every camper was supposed to have money on them for excursions and, even if the camp needed to pitch in to get some kids into the fairgrounds, it wouldn’t be an outlandish amount of money.
Slowly, Mick nodded. “We’ll have to run it by Chief and Nonna first to see if they’d be up to it, but I think that just might be our best shot at having a plan for the week.”
Holding her hand out palm-up, Vivien beamed as Mick high-fived her. “A week full of rides, fried food, and children screaming at the tops of their lungs.”
With a soft chuckle, Mick nudged the girl as she asked, “You plan on being one of those screaming children?”
Vivien shrugged as she tugged her elastic from her hair, “For one reason or another, yeah.”
“What do you mean?” Mick wondered as she picked up her pencil and wrote Vivien’s idea on her notepad.
Vivien sighed as she pulled her hair into a ponytail, “Well, I’ll either be screaming because of the rides or because of the insane cramps I’ve been getting. Either way, there will be screaming.”
“Did you take anything for them?”
“Tylenol,” Vivien confirmed.
“But it isn’t touching it?”
“Nope.”
“You could have asked me for some,” Mick sighed. “Me or Carrie. We would have given you something.”
Once again, Vivien shrugged, “It doesn’t really matter. I’ll work out some and drink extra water and I’ll be fine. Besides, it’ll be over in three days anyway.”
“That’s it?” Mick asked as she rose from her seat. When Vivien nodded, Mick scoffed, “You lucky little shit. My period lasts at least a week.”
Vivien smiled, chuckling as she stood and followed Mick to the door, “Yeah, well, I don’t get my period often at all, so it usually hits hard and then goes away after maybe two or three days.”
“Oh,” Mick breathed. “Do you have an IUD? I heard that those stop your period.”
“No, I just don’t get them a lot,” Vivien admitted. “I don’t need birth control anyway.”
“Be grateful you don’t yet,” Mick sighed. “When I was testing the waters, I tried one that basically destroyed me. When you start looking around, make sure to check the side effects before you jump in.”
Although Vivien nodded, she let out a breath before swallowing and admitting, “You know, I don’t think that will be a problem for me.”
“Maybe not,” Mick shrugged, “but it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.”
“I know, it’s just…” Vivien stalled as her voice drifted off, her fingers twisting nervously in the strings of her hoodie. “I won’t need birth control.”
Mick stopped, turning to the younger girl with a smile that looked as though she knew everything going through the young brunette’s mind. “Vivi, I know you and Royce aren’t there quite yet - and to that, I applaud you both - but there may come a time where that could change. If it does, you’ll need to be looking into those things.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Vivien said with a shake of her head. Stepping close to the older girl, Vivien reached out a hesitant hand, slipping her fingers into Mick’s hand as she lowered her voice and admitted, “Mickie, I won’t need it because I can’t get pregnant.”
As though she had been caught in a game of freeze tag, Mick stood still, looking over the girl before her with wide eyes. “What?”
“My mom took me to the doctors before summer started to see about birth control because Royce and I were spending the summer here,” Vivien stated. “Something about her knowing what the staff members get up to when the adults aren’t looking.”
“Understandable,” Mick breathed. After all, she knew all too well just how easy it was for counselors to sneak off when they had nothing better to do.
Vivien shrugged, “Yeah, well, when I brought up to my doctor how irregular my periods are, she decided to run a few tests to see if there were any underlying things going on. They tested me for endometriosis, a few autoimmune disorders, and a bunch of other stuff while they were at it.”
“And?”
“And they found I have PCOS,” Vivien admitted. “It won’t kill me or anything, but it causes infertility. They put me on a medication to test how it works on me and, while I still won’t get pregnant if it helps, it should make things a bit easier as time goes on.”
Mick nodded as she took in the information. Then, with a tentative look in her eyes, she asked, “You’re okay with not having kids?”
“They’re cute and all, but to be honest, I never wanted them,” Vivien chuckled. “I’d rather be the cool aunt who babysits, spoils them silly, and sends them back to their parents. Besides, I only recently started getting more confident in how I look, and the idea of my stomach expanding and having to push something the size of a bowling ball out of my vagina sounds horrifying to me.”
With a chuckle, Mick shook her head before sending a smile Vivien’s way and wrapping an arm around the teen’s shoulders, pulling her close as she began walking toward the office door. “You’d rather be the auntie, huh?”
“Only the coolest auntie to ever walk the face of the earth,” Vivien agreed. “I’d take them to the mall and to the movies, teach them to skate, and do all the fun stuff with them that their parents don’t wanna do.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Absolutely.”
Mick snickered, squeezing Vivien to her side as she opened the door to the front desk, “Well, then you’ll have your work cut out for you once the rest of us start popping out kids left, right, and center.”
Vivien let out a snort, “Did they not make you watch that nightmare-fuel movie in school because, believe me, you won’t be popping anything out of anywhere.”
Rolling her eyes, Mick nudged Vivien into the office and allowed the conversation to drop as the younger brunette made her way to where Riven was sitting, talking on the phone with someone neither of them could make out. From the look of it, however, Mick had gotten the better end of the deal as Riven ran a frustrated hand through his hair. As Vivien perched herself on the desk and began taunting Riven by mimicking whoever was on the phone, Mick smiled, shaking her head at the girl’s antics as she pulled out her phone. Unlocking the device, she sent a quick message to Vivien's grandmother about the idea the girl had proposed before switching to the conversation she had been having with her husband.
After rereading the last messages they had sent each other, Mick smiled to herself and brought up her keyboard before typing, ‘How do you feel about having a movie night with everyone? We can get some popcorn, string up a sheet in the living room, and just spend time together.’
The response came quicker than she had anticipated as her phone pinged. ‘Sounds good to me,’ Butchy had typed. ‘Might have to wait until tomorrow, though. Someone fell from the rock wall and we’re waiting on an ambulance.’
‘Does it look that bad?’ she tapped quickly.
‘Worse,’ was Butchy’s first response. ‘We’ll probably have a staff meeting on safety once they get back from the hospital.’
‘Oh yay,’ Mick typed, hoping her sarcasm came through loud and clear. By Butchy’s quickly sent laughing emoji, she guessed it had. ‘Guess we’ll pick out a movie tomorrow then.’
‘Guess so,’ Butchy replied. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ Mick quickly sent. ‘It happens. I’ll see you after.’
‘Ok, love you.’
‘Love you too.’
The overpowering stench of charred popcorn filled the air as the window above the kitchen sink was pushed open. Most of the cabin would smell the blackened remnants of the buttery snack within a few minutes if they couldn’t already and, although the window was open, it wouldn’t do much to rid the log cabin of the overwhelming smell. While Royce was immensely glad he was the only one close enough to have to face the full force of the stench, he still felt as though it choked him, resulting in him taking a quick gulp of air before making his way to the microwave.
Quickly opening the silver and black box, Royce grabbed the bag by the corner and hastily closed the microwave before making his way to the window where he held the bag of decently scorched popcorn outside to air out. He could have easily taken it out the back door, opened the bag, and thrown the inedible food out on the grass for the birds and squirrels, but he wasn’t sure they would take it either. The only thing he was sure about was that he was going to have to avoid the kitchen for a few days until the smell no longer permeated every inch of the space.
For once, the horrendously burned food wasn’t due to Mick’s dad attempting to cook and he was almost positive that he was going to end up being the focus of his friends’ teasing for a while as a result. One thing Royce could never manage to properly make in the modern world was popcorn and, despite Vivien’s many efforts to teach him not to trust the instructions on the backs of the bags, he simply couldn’t manage to make a bag without burning some. If it had been something like Jiffy Pop where he could make the popcorn on the stove like they did back home, he would have been fine. However, the modern world had changed and, although the stovetop popcorn was still available in stores, not a single shop in Sanbornton kept them in stock and he wasn’t about to make anyone take the trip out to a bigger store just so that he could make popcorn. After all, he wasn’t even supposed to be in charge of the popcorn.
Miles had originally been tasked to make the snack as he had some magical knowledge as to how to add butter throughout the bowl without it all getting soggy and gross. However, as he was pulled away to help Butchy and Vivien hang up the sheet in the living room, Royce was left monitoring the bag of now-burnt popcorn. Thankfully, two other bags had already been made up, but Royce wasn’t sure anyone would want him searching through the cupboards for another packet that would just end up charred.
Before he could attempt to bring the bag back inside and dispose of it, a voice from the hallway got his attention. “Royce?” a voice he knew all too well asked. Rolling his eyes, Royce turned to see Carrie entering the kitchen with her nose crinkled in disgust. “Is everything okay in here?”
Royce took in a deep breath and sighed before pulling the burnt popcorn inside and tossing it in the trash, “Peachy-fucking-keen.”
“What happened?” Carrie asked as she reached for the refrigerator door.
“Have you lost all sense of smell or something?” Royce questioned, sarcasm filling his tone.
Grabbing the tray of jiggling Jello cups from the shelf in the fridge, Carrie tried not to sound snippy as she replied, “I can smell the burnt popcorn, but I wanted to know if everything was alright.”
“It’s fine,” Royce sighed. “I’ll just have Miles make a new one when he’s done with whatever he’s doing.”
“They’re trying to figure out how to hang up the sheet without it falling down again,” Carrie chuckled as she set the tray of Jello cups on the counter. “If you want, I can make up the next bag if you want to take this out there and try helping them.”
Although Royce could have easily said no and pushed off the blonde’s offer with a snarky response, he didn’t particularly feel like starting a fight, especially not when Miles had recently praised him for working so well with Carrie in the playhouse. In all honesty, the pair had spent little time together as Riven kept him distracted, but the way Miles had smiled when he sang Royce’s praises that night made him feel as though he was doing something helpful. If sucking it up and dealing with Carrie’s, well, everything would make Miles happier with him, he could manage. Stepping up to the counter, Royce eyed the jiggling snack with a raised eyebrow as he asked, “What even is that?”
Carrie smiled as Royce glanced her way, prepared to explain, however, her words remained in her throat as an excited squeal brought their attention to the doorway of the kitchen. “Jello shots!” Mick sang.
Royce glanced down at the cups before asking, “Like, alcohol shots?”
“Not all of them,” Carrie commented as Mick grabbed a handful of spoons from the drawer. “Most of them are just Jello and juice.”
“These ones, however,” Mick began as she grabbed a cup with a tiny, toothpick flag sticking out of it, “have vodka.”
“And you guys can’t have them,” Carrie added.
Mick shrugged, “Technically, they can if they get permission and don’t plan on leaving camp, but I doubt Miles would want them getting drunk.”
“Not like we’d want to anyway,” Royce said with a small smirk.
“Good,” Mick commented, placing her handful of spoons on the tray. “Were you taking these to the living room?”
Before Carrie could say that she was planning on doing just that, Royce said, “I can. Do you want me to?”
“I need to grab the sherbet and a big bowl for Charlie’s infamous punch, so yeah, that would be great,” Mick said with a brilliant smile.
The girls watched as Royce took the tray from the counter and headed out of the room with a small smile tugging at his lips. Once he was gone, Mick turned to grab the sherbet from the freezer and Carrie reached into a nearby cupboard for a bowl. Glancing over her shoulder at the brunette who was elbow-deep in the freezer, Carrie asked, “How do you do it?”
Pulling herself and a plastic tub of orange sherbet from the freezer, Mick’s head lilted to the side as she asked in return, “Do what?”
Gesturing toward the doorway, Carrie clarified, “Get Royce so at ease around you. I swear, he must think I’m some cartoon villain or something.”
Mick let out a soft chuckle as she hefted the tub onto the counter, “You’re probably not far off.”
Carrie sighed as she placed a large bowl on the counter, “I mean, Bentley is finally starting to warm up to me, but Royce still can’t stand me unless someone’s there to break things up.”
Taking in a deep breath, Mick grinned as she admitted, “Well, if it gives you any comfort, I know the feeling.”
“You do?” Carrie questioned. When Mick nodded, she asked, “How? They both adore you.”
“They do, yeah,” Mick nodded. “But I’m not talking about them.”
If Mick’s previous confession hadn’t confused Carrie already, her new statement certainly did. “If not them, then who?”
Mick chuckled, “Normally, I’d say ‘like father, like son’, but since they’re brothers…”
“Miles?” Carrie asked incredulously. It was hard to imagine Miles being anything but the brotherly figure in Mick’s life. The two got along so well that, if Carrie hadn’t known the relationship between them prior to meeting Mick, she would have guessed they were related by some extension. She couldn’t picture the oldest of the Murphy brothers being anything but protective and loving toward the brunette before her.
With a nod, Mick smiled, “Bingo.”
“But you two are like siblings.”
“We are.”
“What happened?”
Mick chuckled as she pushed herself to sit on the countertop, “Well, as I said, it was a lot like what’s happening with you and the boys. I started dating Butchy when I was almost eighteen and, by that time, Miles had been living with Butchy and Lela for almost a year. They were as close as close could be, but then I came along.”
Leaning on the counter and looking up at the brunette who was normally right around her height, Carrie asked, “Did he not like you?”
“At first, we were fine,” Mick admitted. “We were friends - the four of us. Then, when things between me and Butchy started to change, Miles grew overprotective of him and Lela and began pushing me aside.”
“I can’t imagine that lasted long,” Carrie chuckled.
“Longer than I would have liked,” Mick mused. “Maybe half a year at most.”
Carrie nodded slowly; it seemed as though Miles was the easiest of the brothers to rope in. “How did you manage to make it to where you are now?”
“Not easily,” Mick snorted. “He fought me tooth and nail while all I wanted was for us to go back to the way things were. It wasn’t until I showed up at their door, bloody and bruised, that he finally stopped.”
“What happened to you?” Carrie pressed. “I mean, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but-”
Mick’s laugh cut the blonde off, “I don’t mind. It was actually kind of dumb. I was playing volleyball with some of the surfers and, when I dove for the ball, it bounced off of my arms and slammed into my face. It looked a lot worse than it was, but I insisted I would be fine after cleaning myself up, so I went to Butchy’s house to see if I could clean up and use their first aid kit.”
“That must not have gone over too well,” Carrie mused. Lela on her own probably wasn’t bad - she would have probably allowed logic to drive her into helping her friend once the panic wore off - but Carrie could only imagine the chaos that came from having both Butchy and Miles fussing over Mick’s bloodied face.
“About as well as you’d expect,” Mick shrugged. “Miles opened he door, took one look at me, and all of a sudden, it was like a switch had been flipped. He pulled me inside, led me to the couch, called for Butchy and Lela, and started trying to stop the bleeding while he questioned me as to what had happened. After that, things calmed down considerably and now we’re practically family.”
“I can’t imagine Royce and I getting to that point,” Carrie breathed. “I think he’d probably enjoy seeing me all broken and bloody.”
“Yeah, no,” Mick snorted with a shake of her head. “Royce may not like you yet, but he certainly wouldn’t want you to get hurt. He might not react quite the same as Miles would, but he would still try to help. He knows how much you mean to Miles.”
Though Carrie wasn’t entirely sure she believed Mick’s hopeful words, the thought was nice. If the situation was reversed and Royce had been injured, she would try to help him despite how strained their relationship was; she could only hope he would do the same for her if she needed him to. “Maybe you’re right.”
Mick hummed as she pushed herself off of the countertop and grabbed the tub of sherbet, “Well, let’s hope we don’t have to find out anytime soon.”
Carrie chuckled, nodding as she grabbed the large bowl she had taken from the cupboard, “No injuries for me, please.”
“Yeah,” Mick nodded as she led the way out of the kitchen, ready to finally sit down and watch a movie with the group that had gathered in the living room.
Despite the light rain showers that came in short bursts throughout Friday morning, the sky began to clear after lunch, bringing brilliant hues of blue through the breaking clouds. Warm breezes brushed through the camp as many staff members donned their swimsuits and spent the afternoon on the beach or in the lake. A select few had taken to dragging some of the canoes and kayaks from the boathouse to cruise around the lake while the majority either tanned or swam through the cool lake water.
The sunshine didn’t last long, however, as gray clouds decorated the horizon by the time everyone was preparing to head to dinner. While most chose to wrap towels around their already drenched swimsuits so they didn’t have to worry about getting any more wet on the way back to their cabins from the mess hall, others chose to change into dry clothes and keep an umbrella or rain poncho with them on their walk to the mess hall.
As groups formed and friends began talking about everything and nothing all at once, Riven made his way to the end of the line and grabbed a tray for his food. Although Erica and Jade were with him, spouting off about midnight swimming and a game they wanted to play soon, Riven’s mind had wandered. Once the summer was over, he officially had nothing to do. He had done an eight-week college course and gotten his photography degree online before the summer started, and his job at the tattoo shop in Laconia was infrequent as he was still in training. Once the summer was over, the only thing he had to do was train on the ice.
Sure, he could have taken a job at his dad’s car dealership, but he didn’t exactly like being there every day. It was insanely boring sitting at a desk, helping people pick out cars. How his dad managed to do it almost every day, he didn’t know. His dad was adamant that he didn’t need help paying the bills, but his weekly photography job for the local paper was more than enough to cover the cable and electric bills he had swapped into his name without his dad’s knowledge. It was the least he could do. However, with not having to do much work to get paid and practically nothing else to do, Riven wondered just how boring the rest of the year would be.
Riven sighed as he took another step forward; at least he had the band and their little Dungeons and Dragons party to keep him busy. Without them, he would be bored out of his mind all the time. With Jade and Erica working at the mall, it was easy for Riven to snatch Vivien and drive her to the mall for a quick session while the others were on their lunch breaks, but with the school year starting and Vivien taking on a joint year to graduate early, those days of fighting magical beings while sitting around a sticky booth in the food court would be coming to an end.
Sure, they still had their weekends where they could sit in Erica’s apartment and play a bit of their campaign or settle down in Riven’s basement to practice their music for the concerts they had yet to play, but it just wasn’t the same as the summertime hangouts they used to have.
Maybe he would ask the girls to meet him in the music hall to go through some of the songs he had been working on. Normally, he left the songwriting to Erica as that was her specialty, but he had written a few songs himself here and there. Maybe they would feel up to spending some time playing music like they used to. Hell, everyone could be there for all he cared. He just wanted to do something before the summer ended and everyone went back to business as usual.
As Riven stepped up to the first section of the buffet displays, a hand waved in front of his face, jolting him from his thoughts. “Yo, dipshit, are you in there?”
Turning toward Erica with a raised brow, Riven asked, “What?”
"You were spacing out there for a while," Mick mused as she rounded Riven in search of some waffle fries.
"Yeah," Erica confirmed.
“Mick and Bentley said you guys are having a game night tonight,” Jade spoke. “We were wondering if we could come.”
“Yeah,” Riven nodded automatically despite not having known about the game night. “Of course you can.”
"Told you so," Bentley said with a smile.
“Cool,” Erica mused. “You guys planning on breaking out Cards Against Humanity again?”
"We might," Mick said with a shrug.
“Please do,” Jade begged with a cackle. “I would kill to see Butchy’s face!”
Erica choked on a laugh as she grabbed some cutlery, “I know, right! He acts like some forty-year-old virgin with some of those cards.”
“Says the one who gave him half of the dirty cards in the deck,” Riven chuckled.
“It was so worth it,” Erica claimed with a contented sigh.
Mick shook her head with a fond smile, “I wasn’t sure he was going to make it through the night without bursting a blood vessel or something.”
Riven smirked, “I thought he was going to when he found out Bentley was the one that had given him that card about having a threesome with Shaquille O’Neal.”
“And I’d do it again,” Bentley remarked as he walked behind Riven to grab some french fries.
“Do you even know what that card means?” Erica questioned the boy, leaning forward slightly to see him.
Bentley slowly nodded, “I made the mistake of googling it after I handed it over.”
Jade let out a bark of a laugh before slapping a hand over her mouth as Riven snickered, “Big mistake, kid.”
“You’re telling me,” Bentley sighed. “I wanted nothing more than to bleach my eyes after that.”
Mick snickered, “Next time we play, I can sit next to you and we can just swap cards if you want.”
“Maybe,” the fifteen-year-old shrugged, a smirk growing on his face, “but I kind of liked watching Butchy freak out like that.”
“Welcome to the dark side,” Erica smiled, nudging the blond boy with her elbow as she reached between him and Mick to grab some waffle fries. “We’ve been expecting you.”
Bentley smiled and began making himself a burger as Mick maneuvered around him to pour herself some ketchup and Riven stepped up beside him, taking some potato wedges from the metal dish they sat in. Glancing at his bandmates, the older boy cleared his throat and said, “You know, I was thinking we could go up to the music hall tomorrow and work on some new songs. You guys feel up to it?”
Jade readily agreed as Erica sighed, “I haven’t been writing much at all this summer.”
“That’s alright,” Riven reassured. “I know it’s been a bit hectic for you guys at the pool. Besides, I’ve got a few that I’ve been working on in my free time; maybe we can work on those.”
“Sure,” Jade nodded.
“That works,” Erica decided.
“Can I listen to the new songs?” Bentley piped up, placing the top of his burger bun on his carefully constructed sandwich. “I always love your music.”
"Me too," Mick agreed as she set the ketchup bottle down.
“You guys have heard our music?” Jade asked.
"Most of our cabin has at this point," Mick said as she left to find a seat at their table.
Bentley nodded, moving aside so the others had access to the rest of the buffet as he said, “Viv plays recordings for us on the TV now and then. It’s kinda like watching a concert.”
“Someday, we’ll play an actual concert,” Erica stated as she piled a handful of chips onto her plate. “We’ll perform a setlist we’ve created on a huge stage with bright lights, brand-new instruments, and rows and rows of screaming fans.”
“I hope I’ll be there when it happens,” Bentley said with a smile. “It sounds incredible."
“Are you kidding, half-pint?” Riven asked rhetorically, ruffling Bentley’s hair before wrapping an arm around the boy’s shoulders and guiding him toward the table they always sat at. “You’ll have a backstage pass.”
There were some days that Mick felt as though she had lived through many lives as a parent. Not only had she worked as a babysitter in her preteen years, but she had also been somewhat of an older sister figure to Vivien, her siblings, and their respective gaggles of friends. Once she was old enough to be left home alone, she was tasked with going down the street to the O’Brian household to babysit their kids while the parents worked in the winery. As they grew older and gained friends, Mick grew accustomed to seeing random kids show up at the house, asking for one kid or another to come out and play. She also grew used to the ups and downs of living like a parent.
More than once, she had woken up to a sick child asking to cuddle up to her or had to drag an exhausted teenager from the comfort of their bed. Despite no longer needing to babysit for cash to blow on the weekends, Mick was still living like a child-wrangler and, although they were old enough to handle themselves, she still treated every child she came into contact with as though they were her own. Vivien, Royce, and Bentley were no exception.
Mick adored the young trio. Of course, she had grown up knowing Vivien as her next-door neighbor’s kid and the little sister her parents never gave her. Royce and Bentley, on the other hand, were brought into her life far more recently than Vivien had been. Despite only having known them for the better part of a year, she had grown to adore them just as deeply as she knew Miles did. That was why, when she woke up to the three of them quietly carrying a tray of food and some assorted items into her room, her suspicions were high.
“What is all of this?” she asked as she sat up, allowing Royce to place the tray over her legs.
“We’re not supposed to say,” Bentley claimed, earning a nudge from Royce, who quickly smiled back at Mick.
“We were told to give you the stuff, tell you ‘good morning’, and leave,” the brunet stated.
Understandably concerned, Mick closed her eyes and sighed, “Who did something and - follow-up question - what did they do this time?”
“Nobody did anything,” Vivien snickered. “Well, not yet at least.”
Slowly peeling her eyes open, Mick glanced at the trio before asking, “Do I wanna know?” Instead of getting a direct answer, Mick earned a shrug from Vivien, a knowing smirk from Royce, and a snorted laugh from Bentley. Sighing once again, Mick shook her head, “I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”
“It’s nothing bad,” Bentley reassured.
“Yeah,” Vivien nodded. “You’ll see.”
Mick glanced at the teenagers and gave them a small smile. “Alright, but if anyone miraculously gets magical powers and ends up lighting something on fire, you three are my scapegoats.”
“How would someone get magical powers?” Royce wondered as Mick picked up her fork and took in a piece of a syrup-coated pancake.
Pointing her fork between Royce and Bentley, Mick lowered her voice and said, “You two are from a parallel universe where it’s nineteen-sixty-three - at this point, anything is possible.”
“Touche,” Royce relented.
Taking her friends by the wrists, Vivien tugged the boys away from Mick’s bed as she said, “Alright, alright, enough chit-chat. Let the girl eat so we can move on with our day.”
Despite her rising intrigue with the situation, Mick silently watched as the trio left her room, each of them wishing her a good morning before disappearing into the hallway and being separated by the door. Choosing to allow the day to continue as it should, Mick turned back to her food and took in some fruit before looking at the two wrapped gifts Vivien and Bentley had brought into the room. They hadn’t said anything about the gifts, but she wasn’t exactly going to tell them to collect them either.
One red and one blue, Mick vaguely wondered if the colors were intentional. If so, she knew they could have been from Butchy. Her favorite color and his - red and blue, respectively - were opposite to what most people assumed and had become something of a running joke between them. Tugging the red-wrapped box toward her, Mick picked it up and examined it, lightly shaking it like one would a Christmas present before setting it beside her on the bed without a clue as to what was inside. The other gift was larger than the first, rectangular, and, although she had copied her previous attempt, she had no notion as to what was inside.
Despite her rising curiosity, Mick set the presents aside and returned to her food, determined to eat it before it got any colder than it was already starting to be. After taking the chance to eat, Mick pushed the tray to the end of her bed and shifted to sit cross-legged before reaching for the two presents she had been given. Although she debated for a moment as to which she could open first, the red one was quick to be unwrapped, revealing a small box with a necklace inside, her first initial and Butchy’s delicately engraved into the face of a heart-shaped locket.
The golden heart was no bigger than the pad of Mick’s thumb and swung from a dainty chain that she feared would break far too easily. All the same, Mick stood from her bed and made her way to the mirror she had hung on the back of her bedroom door, taking a minute to secure the chain at the nape of her neck and examine the delicate new accessory. Smiling at her reflection, Mick ran a hand through her hair to somewhat fix it before making her way back to her bed and perching herself on the edge of her mattress before grabbing the blue gift.
Peeling away at the tape, Mick pulled back the wrapping paper. However, after the final piece of tape was torn away and the blue paper fell away, Mick found herself staring at a newspaper-wrapped object with a folded paper taped to the top of it. Tugging the folded page away from the newspaper, Mick opened it and began reading the cleanly-written note inside.
“‘If I know you the way I think I do, you’ll have opened this second.’” Mick let out a breath of a laugh; her predictability was unwavering and Butchy could read her like a book, so it was no surprise that he had gotten that right as well. “‘Another thing I know is that you’ve probably forgotten our date today since you never asked me about it the last couple of days, but just know that I didn’t. I’ve got it all under control, so all you need to do is show up. Dress cool - it’s supposed to be hot today - but bring your cozy sweatpants since we’ll be out after dark. Meet me at the truck when you’re ready to go.’”
Tipping her phone up from its spot on the nightstand and checking the time on her lock screen, Mick ran a hand through her hair. Sooner or later, everyone would be heading to the mess hall for breakfast. Setting her phone down and placing the note in the drawer of her nightstand, Mick quickly unwrapped the newspaper from the gift and found a novel she had been looking forward to reading - How To Survive Your Murder. With a grin, Mick placed the book beside her phone and stood, making her way to her closet. Pulling out a loose shirt and a pair of simple shorts, she smiled and dragged her hair into a loose bun before getting dressed and taking the opportunity to braid her hair.
Tucking her phone into her pocket, slinging a pair of sweats over her arm, and grabbing her book from the stand by her bed, Mick beamed to herself as she left her room. Though it was no surprise that Butchy was nowhere to be seen in the cabin, she was very surprised to find nobody sitting in the living room, waiting for the breakfast alert to blare throughout the campground. Looking around curiously, she found Miles’ and Carrie’s rooms open as they typically were during the day, letting her know that they had left the cabin already. Making her way to the door, Mick stepped outside and quickly found that almost everyone had gathered on the beach, throwing water balloons at each other like an all-out war.
Chucking at the group that had suddenly turned their aggression on Miles who had chosen to lounge on the sand in the hopes of falling asleep despite the chaos around him, Mick made her way through the sand to the pathways that wound throughout the grounds. As she passed a few counselors who had taken to sitting outside and talking on the porches of their cabins, Mick waved, earning herself a myriad of hastily-given greetings as she continued walking toward the main office. Once the building was in her sight, Mick felt a smile tugging at her lips once more.
Just beyond the office was the parking lot where a few of the local staff members had left their cars to accumulate pine needles in the shaded spots of unpaved ground. It was there that she spotted her husband’s familiar truck sitting with the hood up. Approaching the vehicle with a raised brow, Mick tentatively deposited her belongings on the passenger’s seat through the open window and stepped around the front of the truck to find her husband holding one of the dipsticks and a napkin they had gotten from a nearby fast food restaurant.
“Everything alright?” she asked, watching as Butchy slid the stick back into its rightful place.
Butchy turned to her with a lopsided smile and nodded as he wiped his hands on the napkin he held. “Just checking the fluids before we head out,” he claimed. “I had to add some transmission fluid when we went shopping the other day and I think there might be a leak in the line somewhere.”
“Not good,” Mick commented. While she was good with machines, cars were like the Italian language to Mick - she knew enough to get by, but nowhere near as much as Butchy did. Taking a step back as Butchy reached for the hood and lifted it off of the support beam to close it, she asked, “Are you sure you want to go today? We can wait and do it some other time if you want to fix the truck first.”
Shaking his head as he dropped the hood into place, Butchy sent a smile in Mick’s direction as he said, “It’s nothing serious. Miles and I can take a look at it some other time. Today is for the two of us.”
Despite the sincerity in Butchy’s eyes, Mick still found it necessary to ask, “Are you sure?”
Taking Mick’s hand in his, Butchy leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, muttering against her skin, “Positive.”
The warm summer air did nothing to stop the tingling shivers that raced through Mick’s shoulders as Butchy’s deep tone rumbled through her. Finding herself incapable of speaking her mind, she simply nodded and allowed him to guide her back to the truck, standing aside as Butchy opened her door for her and helped her climb in. After closing his wife’s door and rounding the truck, Butchy climbed in behind the wheel and buckled himself in, checking to make sure Mick had done the same before turning the vehicle on and backing out of his parking spot.
Once they had reached the end of the bumpy road, Butchy placed his hand palm up on the middle console out of habit, relishing in the gentle glide of Mick’s fingers as she slid her hand into his. Regardless of who was driving, the two almost always held hands while out and about. Whether it was Mick’s flower-power-themed, Volkswagen bus or Butchy’s cherry red, Ram pickup, they could be seen with their hands intertwined over the center console. It was just how they were. The only time they couldn’t hold hands properly was on Butchy’s motorcycle, which was fine as he still had her arms around him as he drove. At first, it was just for protection and a hint of a connection for the two of them as they went places together, but as they swapped cars on vacations, they found ways to keep themselves grounded in each other’s presence.
As Butchy drove, Mick watched out the window at the scenery that blew by. It was times like these they didn’t need words; they only needed each other. The radio, which had connected to Mick’s phone the moment the car turned on, softly played a song she had forgotten she added to her most recent playlist. As trees shifted to buildings and the main stretch of Sanbornton came into view, Mick turned her gaze to her husband, who had a hint of a smile on his face and seemed solely focused on the road before him despite his wife’s soft singing. Lifting their joined hands, Mick pressed a kiss to the back of Butchy’s hand before lowering them to their resting place.
“So, hotshot, where are you taking me?” she asked as the song ended.
Rolling to a stop at a red light, Butchy chuckled as he glanced her way, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“I would,” Mick remarked. “That would be why I asked.”
“Smartass.”
“Don’t let the kids hear you say that.”
“They aren’t here.”
“True,” Mick nodded. “So, are you going to tell me, or is this a surprise?”
“Surprise,” Butchy confirmed, “but I will tell you that you’ll have a good time.”
Mick hummed, leaning her head against the back of her seat as she mused, “I always have a good time with you.”
Butchy smiled as he squeezed Mick’s hand ever so slightly, “Good.”
The drive only stopped once as they pulled to a stop at a Dairy Queen to get some ice cream - Mick’s statement that ice cream was good any time of day ringing through Butchy’s head as they pulled up to the drive-thru order screen. Once they were back on the road with their ice creams nestled in the cup holders, Butchy continued driving north, bringing them away from the hustle and bustle of the city of Laconia and onto the back roads. Few houses lined the streets as they glided down the road, potholes being the only signs of life as they cruised along the empty streets. By the time their cups of ice cream were empty, they had passed rows of trees and bushes and come to a sparsely populated area. Eventually, Butchy slowed as the GPS warned him that he was approaching their destination and Mick found herself looking around in confusion. On their left was an RV park filled with rows of trailers and the only thing on their right was an empty, obviously unmaintained, parking lot with foliage filling the cracks and a metal gate blocking the entrance.
However, as Butchy pulled a bit further down and flipped on his turn signal, Mick only found her confusion growing. Butchy pulled to a stop outside of a metal gate and told Mick to stay in the truck as he climbed out with a set of keys in hand. Rounding the truck, he slid one of the keys into the rusty lock and twisted it, dragging away the chain that held the gate in place before pushing it open and heading back to his truck. Once Butchy was back in the truck, Mick asked him what was going on, but he brushed off her concerns with ease as he pulled into the run-down parking lot and passed an old, red building with a moss-coated roof.
Stepping out of the truck once it was parked, Mick looked around, searching for any sign that she knew where they were. As Butchy led her toward the old red building, however, she spotted something that made the location click into her mind like a cassette in a Walkman. “White Oaks?” she breathed. “I thought this place closed down years ago.”
“It did,” Butchy confirmed. “I was talking with Vivien about things to do in the area and she brought up that you guys would come here a lot in the summers. I figured it would be nice to tour the place.”
With a laugh of disbelief, Mick stared at the building before her with wide eyes, “How did you even get a key?”
“I called the number on the for-sale sign by the road,” Butchy shrugged. “The guy was really nice and said we could look around as much as we want so long as we don’t go in the water. Something about it needing to be cleaned.”
“I’d say,” Mick scoffed as she took the lead, wandering into the building. “This place was closed seven years ago. Whatever’s in the water is probably sludgy and toxic by this point.”
Butchy followed his wife as she wandered into the old ticket center with practiced ease. As she looked around the crumbling remains of the building with a smile, Butchy felt the urge to whip out his phone and take a picture of her, but then again, he always felt like that. Before long, Mick got bored of the building and climbed over the ticket turnstiles, prompting Butchy to follow suit as she began making her way into the open air once more. The dilapidated remnants of a water slide loomed in the distance, its rusted metal creaking as the wind blew, rustling the leaves of the vines that crawled up the sides of the structure. Despite its rickety appearance, Mick smiled as though it was brand-new.
Further down the overgrown, concrete trails, they found an old pool with a decaying roof overhead - more than a few ceiling tiles having fallen into the murky abyss that was the lingering swamp of water in the pool. Half filled with rain water and a few chairs that had been unceremoniously dumped by trespassers, the pool had once stood proud and shimmering with glistening, crystalline water and welcomed people of all ages to take a refreshing dip. Now, all that remained were tadpoles and crumbling tiles. Mick had spent most of her childhood behind the pool’s waterfall, pretending to be a mermaid in a shimmering cave-like on one of her favorite shows. Now, however, she couldn’t imagine willingly swimming to the far side of the square pool and waiting for an arch of sludge to come over the embankment to seal her in.
Following the cement paths, they discovered what had once been a splash park and playground. A few of the play structures remained and, if Mick listened over the wind, she was sure she could hear the faintest screeches of laughter emanating from the large pirate ship that she and Vivien had spent hours playing on growing up. In the center of the play area was a pole with a circle at the top. Buckets used to hang from it, dumping water on unsuspecting children once they were filled. The soft ground under the splash park still had some semblance of color to it - its old, floral pattern was now nothing more than sunburnt shades of faded red and blue. Distantly, Mick wondered if the water spouts still worked, but she soon decided she wouldn’t want any of the remaining tank water to spray her down.
Down a set of stairs, Mick made her way to what was once the best wave pool in all of New Hampshire. Or, at least, the one she had deemed to be the best. The large mouth of the pool remained somewhat similar to how she remembered it - a dingy shade of gray with a rope across the front of it, blocking people from entering. Cartoonish signs still hung from the ropes, a little lavender bear wearing pool floaties pouting at the words “Closed for Cleaning and Maintenance.”
Chuckling, Mick held the corner of the sign and said, “It’s Helpy.”
“Helpy?” Butchy repeated.
“Mhm,” Mick hummed. “He was their maintenance mascot who would come out to let everyone know they needed to close something and fix it up. More often than not, it was the wave pool that needed fixing.”
Butchy chuckled as he sarcastically remarked, “Sounds like a great attraction.”
“It was,” Mick nodded, “it just broke down a lot.”
“So Helpy was their solution?”
“No,” Mick began with a shake of her head, “he was there long before they started having issues. You see, they used to have this party hall where you could have birthday parties and stuff. They had these animatronic animals that would sing and put on shows for everyone, but they broke down a lot, so Helpy would come out and try to guide everyone out back while they worked on the animatronics.”
Butchy nodded, “Sounds like that game you and Vivien were into.”
Mick snickered, “Five Nights at Freddy’s?”
“Yeah, that one.”
“Why do you think I liked the games so much?” Mick questioned rhetorically. “I loved going to parties here growing up and, when the games came out, I just fell in love. I may not be as much of a gamer as Vivien and the boys are, but I will forever be invested in Five Nights at Freddy’s.”
With a fond smile, Butchy allowed Mick to guide him throughout the rest of the water park, showing him all of her favorite locations and telling him all about the fond memories she had from over the years. After spending a few hours wandering the property, looking in the remaining buildings, and taking as many photographs as Mick desired, they made their way back to the entrance and made their way to Butchy’s truck. Once they were inside and had the air conditioner on to cool them from the heat of the blistering sun, Mick gave a contented sigh.
“What’s up?” Butchy asked as he rolled out of the parking lot.
“That was a lot of fun,” she said with a smile. “I haven’t been there in ages.”
Butchy chuckled as he pushed open his door to lock the gate of the property, “Well, don’t think we’re done yet.”
“We’re not?”
“Not even close.”
Smiling to herself as her husband got out of the truck, Mick relaxed into the leather of her seat, her fingers tracing the stitching of the material out of habit as she distantly listened to the scrape of metal behind the vehicle. Once Butchy was back in the truck, they were off again, driving further from the towns she knew. A few minutes down the road, Butchy pulled off into a parking lot and rolled to a stop before parking the car and tugging the key from the ignition. Although there was a small beach nearby, Mick couldn’t see the reason for him to want to go there without telling her to bring a bathing suit, so, as Mick turned to Butchy with a raised eyebrow, she was glad to see him already chuckling knowingly at her.
“I figured we could stop and have some late lunch,” he explained. Looking around, he scanned the area before pointing across the lot to a building with a blue roof and a sign with a sun over the water. “There, at Niko’s. It’s a Greek place, but there are som enormal things on the meal like pizza, pasta, and nachos. I figured it would be nice to try something new.”
Smiling at the hopeful glow in Butchy’s cinnamon eyes, Mick took in a breath and nodded, “Sounds great to me.”
Once they had climbed down from the truck, Butchy locked the doors with a beep that echoed through the quiet town and took Mick’s hand in his. The restaurant, though small, was welcoming as cool air pulsed throughout the seating area. The establishment wasn’t anything spectacular - no crisply ironed linens on the tables and certainly no maître d' to guide them to their table - but it was comfortable and the service was great. As the waitress took the menus and headed back to the kitchen to hand in their order, Mick reached across the table for Butchy’s hand and smiled as music flowed through speakers she had yet to find.
Though Butchy’s contentment was palpable as Mick talked about how pleased she was with the date so far, she had to wonder why he was consistently checking his watch once the food arrived. By the time they had eaten and Mick had gotten some baklava for them to share, she could feel her husband’s foot bouncing against the floorboards; a subtle sign that he was growing more and more anxious as time went on. Choosing to ignore it as she was sure he had to have something bigger in mind if he was so worked up over it, Mick worked her way through her portion of the baklava before letting Butchy get up to pay for their meal at the counter.
Once he had returned, Mick grabbed her phone from the table and made sure he had everything he needed before letting him lead the way outside. The air was thick with humidity and made both Butchy and Mick want to go back into the cool, air-conditioned restaurant, however, as Butchy checked his watch once more, they both knew that wasn’t a possibility. Instead of leading the way to the truck, Butchy led her toward the little beach and across a bridge to where a small shack sat on the end of a pier.
“What is this?” Mick asked as Butchy guided her toward the shack.
Rounding the shack with nothing more than a smile, Butchy stepped aside and gestured toward the water with a flourish. In the water was a small, blue and white square with two seats and a blue canopy secured above it. There were a few similar floating squares tied to the dock, but none of them had a canopy like the blue one did. When Mick looked no less confused than she had been, Butchy’s smile faltered ever so slightly and he explained, “It’s a pedal boat. I figured we could ride out on the lake for a while.”
Glad to finally know what was going on, Mick beamed, “Let’s do it, then.”
With newfound excitement, Butchy led his wife to their trusty little boat and stepped aboard before offering Mick a hand and helping her settle into her seat. Once they had gotten away from the shore and far enough from the beach that they no longer had to worry about people crossing their path, the pair slowed their pedaling and allowed the water to pull them where it wanted. Relaxing in her seat, Mick looked at her husband with a smile as she watched the water shimmer behind him. Although it wasn’t exactly quiet as they were still near the beach, the air between them was calm and quiet - a sort of peace that brought feelings of simple joy. Serenity filled the air as the water’s gentle flow inched them further from the shore.
Taking in a slow, deep breath as she tipped her head back to examine the fading design on the canopy above them, Mick spoke contemplatively, “You know, I think I made a mistake.”
“You did?” Butchy asked, peering over at Mick with curious, almost concerned, amber eyes. Mick nodded and, in return, Butchy asked, “What would that be?”
“I brought my new book.”
Lifting an eyebrow, Butchy wondered, “How is that a mistake?”
“I’m not exactly getting any reading done,” Mick explained with a hint of a smirk as she met Butchy’s eyes. “I thought we were just having a picnic or something and that I’d have all the time in the world to read, but I’ve left it in the car all day.”
Allowing the building tension in his shoulders to release as Mick’s statement eased his mind, Butchy chuckled, “Well, in that case, maybe I'll just have to cancel the rest of my plans for the day so that you can get some reading done.”
“No!” Mick exclaimed. Finding the mirth in his eyes, Mick huffed, “You wouldn’t.”
“Is that a dare?” Butchy teased.
“No,” Mick began, “it’s a fact. You’ve had this whole day planned out and I know that, if you have something planned still, you’ll stick to it unless I ask you not to.”
Butchy chuckled, nodding his agreement to her claim, wondering if she knew just how true it was. Discreetly checking his watch as Mick began talking about how excited she was to finally start reading the book she had heard so much about, Butchy wondered how long he could keep her occupied. They still had another two hours on the pedal boat if they wanted and, if he knew Mick at all, she would want to search the beach for shells to add to her ever-growing collection. With any luck, it would be eight in no time and they would be on their way to the final event of the day.
Once he stopped checking his watch, time began to flow like sand in an hourglass. Before he knew it, they were on Weirs Beach, searching the shoreline for sea shells and sand dollars as the sun began to sink over the horizon. Once Mick had filled not only her pockets, but also Butchy’s with a collection of shells and shiny rocks she would share with everyone once they arrived back at the camp, he led her back to the truck where they emptied their pockets into the glovebox, Mick traded her shorts for warmer sweatpants, and the pair allowed the cooler, evening air to fill the humid cabin before closing the doors.
Their drive didn’t last long as Butchy joined the main stream of traffic and followed the curve of the street to a small dirt road. Pulling up to a small building with a single light above it, a myriad of mosquitos and other insects bouncing around the lamp, Butchy rolled to a stop and reached into the pocket of his jeans for his wallet. Pulling out a couple of bills, he held out the money to the attendant who looked positively thrilled to be stuck manning the gate.
“Screen one has Barbie and The Haunted Mansion. Screen two has Insidious and Mission Impossible,” the exhausted worker listed off as they slotted the money into the register. “Which would you like?”
Butchy looked to Mick who, despite the darkening skies, was positively glowing as she excitedly held up a single finger. Turning back to the worker, Butchy replied, “Screen one, please.”
“Mhm,” the worker hummed. “Go left after the gate and try to park somewhere in the middle or back rows. Leave the front for the smaller cars. The snack shack and ice cream stand will be open until the second movie starts, but the bathrooms on the sides of the building remain open until we close. Remember to keep your headlights off and radio on since the movies will play over station ninety-seven-point-five.”
“Thanks,” Butchy said as Mick began fiddling with the radio. Once the worker nodded and waved him off, Butchy put the car back in gear and began rolling down the dirt path again, turning to the left and following the pathways made by other cars until he reached the parking area for the screen they had chosen. Finding a spot near the middle where Mick always liked to park when they went to drive-ins back in St. Pete Beach, Butchy drove in so that the tailgate face the screen before telling Mick she could turn the radio back off once again.
“But we need to have it on the right station or we won’t hear the movie,” she argued gently as she tried to find the right channel.
“We will,” Butchy agreed, “but not on that. I brought a radio from camp to use while we’re in the back.”
“The back?” Mick wondered as she finally looked up. Looking around, she realized Butchy had parked them facing away from the screen. Glancing through the back window at the covered tailgate, Mick asked, “How, exactly, are we going to sit back there?”
Butchy chuckled, taking the opportunity to kiss Mick’s cheek before suggesting, “How about you go get some snacks and drinks and I’ll figure that out?”
With a somewhat skeptical shrug, Mick relented and slid out of the vehicle after Butchy insisted she take his wallet with her. Once there was a bit of distance between his wife and the vehicle they had arrived in, Butchy climbed out of the truck and quickly unclipped the cover of his truck bed, rolling it back into place and examining the setup he had placed in the back end earlier in the day. The mattress and pillows Vivien had helped him smuggle from the storage shed were still snuggly secured in the back while the stack of blankets he and Miles had arranged in a sort of makeshift nest had shifted around quite a bit in their travels. Still, it looked alright and, as he dislodged the radio from its hiding place, he realized it wouldn’t matter much to Mick how it looked. It was the thought that counted.
By the time Mick had returned with two buckets of popcorn, a set of drinks, and her back pockets filled with boxes of cheap theater candy, Butchy had gotten everything set up and arranged the radio to stay on the right channel. Stepping around to the back of the truck, Mick’s eyes widened in disbelief as she breathed, “When did you have the time for all of this?”
“I have my ways,” Butchy stated as he gingerly slid the snacks from Mick’s dumbstruck grip. “Are you ready for a movie night?”
Letting out a breath of a laugh, Mick nodded eagerly, “Hell yeah!”
Without thinking to let Butchy help her, Mick moved to the side of the truck, stepped on the rim of the tire, and hauled herself over the side. Dropping onto the mattress, she held out her hands and took back the snacks so that Butchy could climb in and make himself comfortable. Once he had settled, she relaxed beside him and allowed herself to relax as he brought an arm around her shoulders. Peering down at his wife, Butchy smiled, pleased with how happy she seemed to be. As Mick lifted her head and met his gaze, Butchy brought a hand to the side of her neck, rubbing his thumb along her jawline as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips.
Slowly retreating from the gentle kiss, Butchy asked, “Was it worth the wait?”
Mick hummed, slowly peeling her eyes open once more as a giddy grin tugged at her lips, “Absolutely.”
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Mercs X Sweet Tooth G/N!
Hey yall! It’s been a while since I wrote a short head canon list for the mercs and so I decided to write this! I really have been getting into writing actual one shot stories instead of lists so that’s why my posts have been so slow ^___^ I’m thinking about making a version of this one for the creepy pasta characters to go back to fanfic roots ;-; anyways, g’day! Mwah XOXOXO
Scout:
-Very happy
-“Oh yeah? What’s your favorite one? Really! Mine too!” He takes out your favorite candy in response
-You both like staying up at 3 am eating random sweets
-The sugar rush hits both of you SOOOOO hard. Running across the fort, double, fuck it, triple jumping all around and screaming violently.
- You both literally laugh at almost every thing the mercs say even if it’s not funny or relevant and both laugh at each other laughing so hard. Your laughs become even wheezier when you both cannot speak and it’s both of you mumbling and laughing and your mumbling.
-Just as much as the rush gets you the crash hits harder than the market crash of 2008. Both of you are literally so tired you guys can’t even get up. Eyes sore, legs weak, body tired, everything hurts after literally sonic speeding everywhere. You both wake up holding each other or spooning <3.
-Instead of a hot steamy cup of coffee in the morning you wake Scout up by sitting on top of him and feeding him lemon heads and sour gummy bears.
-You like to throw gummies and candies into his mouth during fights just to play around and it helps with a speed boost
-Although Scout loves candy his favorite is of course: B o n k
-And you both drink it religiously! At this point you both have it in an IV put up into your veins.
-Scout and you have so much fun with candy. You both go to candy stores together and have fun picking out candies and sodas. Once you both get home you guys would eat eat eat, lose your mind and sleep for the rest of the night ^___^
Soldier:
-He doesn’t eat a lot of sweets, but once you give him one he goes a little crazy
-Once, you gave him a chocolate bar and he rocket jumped to space and didn’t come back for at least 3 days
-Soldier finds you alone eating a 12 pack of mini cupcakes to yourself and he gasps “Dear god!”
-“mfwhaht-?” Y/N said mouth full of white cake and frosting. CANNIBALISM!!” He screams pointing at you in horror
-“HoW!?” Y/N yelled out, Soldier ran over and ran his hand on Y/N’s chin “My cupcake is eatin’ a cupcake!”
-He loves a good ol' fashion American Cherry pie
-Coke is his favorite drink
-He mostly enjoys milk chocolate and whoppers
-Always makes sure they're made in America
Pyro:
-you know em, Pyro is a maniac for that typa shit. Way even more than Scout
-Give them a jolly rancher and he'll spend half of the time rolling around in circles laughing and banging his head on the wall
-her brain is already filled with sunshine and rainbows but once you add candy- it's full blown candy land
-they like to make you dance a lot when he's hyper on candy! Always spinning you around and around <3
-He likes hoping around too. He acts kinda like a little bunny ;w;
-Pyro and you basically just run around setting everything on fire without a care in the world
-His favorite candy...? All of em! Lollipops and sour-sweet ones are his favorites.
-They propose to you with a ring pop
Demoman:
-he can handle some sweet things but he's not a big fan
-But when you mix a sugar rushed Y/N with a drunk Demo it's alllllllll chaos.
-You both love doing karaoke when you're out of yall's minds, screaming violently to songs or crying to sad ones
-Probably have a super duper upper crazye rap battle too
-When you both crash you find each other on the other sides of the rooms but when you both wake up you go and cuddle.
-You both try and get sober from your addictions but fail and the next weekend is the same lol
-Like I said, Demo doesn't really like candy. The only ones he'd eat is going to be mixed with alcohol or root beer ones
Heavy:
no comment. these are his favorite
Engineer:
-being from the south, he loves moon pies and other pies in general
-Engi loves maple taffy and whenever it's winter time he makes them with the mercs or just enjoys them by himself
-He loooves taffy and Rocky Road!!
-Pie is also his favorite, Pumpkin pie specifically. He always likes to eat it with a scoop of vanilla ice cream
-All of the sweet things he eats are always warm and relaxing and so you both like to cozy up together and eat together
-Engineer always has to hold you down when you get a little hyper and he has to tell you to relax
-Gets overwhelmed trying to calm you down and eventually gives up but you decided to sit next to him when you can't find him
Medic:
-always warns you about cavities and tells you not to eat so much sweets
-He usually hides the fact that he eats soo much candy.
-Considering Medic is German he eats mostly German candy and chocolates but he's afraid to admit he likes American candies a lot
-He likes to eat sour candies but his taste in things is a lot more "luxury" and so he eats mostly dark chocolate
-Def the kind of guy to say he's not eating chocolate or candy and have stains all over his clothes and mouth
-Medic's manic-ness and your hyper-ness when you're on a sugar rush is. terrifying. Both of you don't stop and you both cannot.
-Both of you go on the most crazy adventures. Once you both woke up with your limbs detached and the other time you guy's switched bodies
Sniper:
-Sniper doesn't eat sweets. periodt.
-He usually just watches you go coo coo through his rifle and chuckles to himself
-even though he doesn't eat anything sweet he think it's so cute that you love sweets so much
-He goes out his way to always buy you candy when he has the time and his favorite part is holding it while you chomp into it
-Once he saw you eating oreos and he called you cookie monster and you didn't know how to feel
-He's very neutral with everything tbh..
-You always try to convince him to eat it but he just can't do it
-So he'll eat something savory while you eat something sweet so he can interact and hang out with you
Spy:
-He loves chocolate croissants...okay sorry for the french joke lmao
-seriously though he's french! France has the most bomb fucking sweets and desserts ever
-He loves Macarons, Éclairs, Profiterole and crepes
-He also really loves to tell you the history of those desserts and loves sharing his culture with you!!! <3
-He tries to calm you down whenever you have a sugar rush and usually forces you to sit down and eat desserts while he reads to you
-Loves to wipe off the cream or frosting off your face and say some horny french bullshit
-You alwaysssss beg Spy to make French pastries and he reluctantly agrees
-You both spend hours in the kitchen making food together and flirting. It's a really cute moment.
-During breaks or lunch you both eat your pastries together <333
okay so it's been a while since I posted. Hey yall! Hope you like this one <3 stay cute! Mwah xoxoxo
#tf2#team fortress 2#team fortress 2 scout#team fortress 2 medic#team fortress spy#team fortress sniper#team fortress engineer#tf2 medic#tf2 sniper#tf2 spy#tf2 soldier#tf2 heavy#tf2 headcanons#team fortress headcanons#tf2 oneshots#tf2 pyro#tf2 demoman#fanfiction#tf2 fanfiction#team fortress two
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Tenipuri Complete Character Profile - Shuusuke Fuji
[PROFILE]
Birthday: February 29th (Pisces)
Blood Type: B
Relatives: Father, Mother (Yoshiko Fuji), Older Sister (Yumiko Fuji), Younger Brother (Yuuta Fuji)
Father’s Occupation: Company Employee (foreign company)
Elementary School: Seishundai Third Elementary School
Middle School: Seishun Academy Junior High School
Grade & Class: Third Year | Class 3-6 | Seat 14
Club: Tennis Club (Regular)
Committee: Yearbook Production Committee
Strong Subjects: Classic Literature
Weak Subjects: Science
Frequently Visited Spot at School: Photography Room
World Cup Team: U-17 World Cup Japanese Representatives
Favorite Motto: “What is essential is invisible to the eyes.”
Daily Routines: Tending to his cacti, drinking morning coffee
Hobbies: Collecting cacti, photography
Favorite Color: Beige
Favorite Music: Celtic music
Favorite Movie: Musicals
Favorite Book: Interior design magazines ➜ Travelogues, travel photo collections [23.5]
Favorite Food: Apples, Cajun food, spicy ramen ➜ Anything spicy, 100% apple juice [23.5]
Favorite Anniversary: The birthday of a special someone
Preferred Type: A person with beautiful fingers ➜ A person who smells like flowers [23.5]
Ideal Date Spot: Planetarium ➜ An observatory with a beautiful view of the stars [23.5]
His Gift For a Special Person: A flower ring
Where He Wants to Travel: Salar de Uyuni on a starry night
Thing He Wants Most Right Now: Antique furniture and tableware ➜ Incentive [23.5]
Dislikes: Sour food
Skills Outside of Tennis: Skiing, ice-skating and other winter sports ➜ Winter sports, locating constellations [23.5]
Spends Allowance On: Things to help with his cacti
Routine During the World Cup: Drinking coffee from around the world, contacting his brother
[DATA]
Height: 167cm
Weight: 53kg
Shoe Size: 25cm
Dominant Arm: Right
Vision: 1.2 Left | 1.0 Right
Play Style: Counter Puncher
Signature Moves: Tsubame Gaeshi (Swallow Return), Higuma Otoshi (Bear Drop), Hakugei (White Whale), Kagero Zutsumi (Dragonfly Illusion), Houou Gaeshi (Phoenix Return), Kirin Otoshi (Qilin Drop), Hakuryuu (White Dragon), Gatekeeper of Hecatoncheires, Hoshi Hanabi (Starry Fireworks), Closed Eye, Aoi Fubuki (Blue Blizzard), Hikari Kaze (Wind of Light)
Time He Wakes Up: 6:00am
Time He Goes to Sleep: 11:30pm
Number of Inui Juices Consumed: 16
Favorite Brands:
Racquet: prince (TRIPLE THREAT RIP), prince (MICHAEL CHANG TITANIUM)
Shoes: Nike (NIKE READY AIR BISCAYNE MID III)
Fitness Test Results:
Sidesteps: 63
Shuttle Run: 115
Back Strength: 116kg
Grip Strength: 47kg
Backbend: 62 cm
Seated Forward Bend: 47.8cm
50m Run: 6.8 seconds
Standing Long Jump: 232cm
Handball Throw: 31.5m
Endurance Run (1500m): 4:44
Overall Rating: Speed: 3 / Power: 3 / Stamina: 3 / Mental: 4 / Technique: 5 / Total: 18
Kurobe Memo: “Evident from his beautiful play style, he is undoubtedly gifted in the sport. If he weren’t so concerned with playing aesthetically, I suspect he could go from a great player to an undeniably strong one.” [RB]
[POSSESSIONS]
What’s in His Bedroom [10.5]
Cacti // He moves them back and forth between his windowsill and shelves for sunlight
A rocking chair
Record player // He prefers it over a CD player since it’s quieter
Vinyl records // Bought from used record stores. Most of them are classic and jazz
Computer // The monitor is placed on the shelf next to his desk to conserve space. He’ll put his keyboard on his desk when he needs to use it
His favorite photos // Large printed photos he had taken on holidays and trips that are hanging on his wall
A very spacious closet // He stores his clothes, books, school uniforms and other things in it
What’s in His Bag [10.5]:
Cell phone // His family members are frequently on the go
Pass case
An English copy of The Little Prince // A book that’s dear to him, he’s read it in Japanese and is now reading the English version
Word cards // He’ll write down words he doesn’t understand in The Little Prince and look them up when he gets home
Writing supplies // Used to write down the situations, dates, times of shooting and other details when he captures photos
Compact camera
Compact mirror // He also uses it as a reflector for photos
What’s in His Locker at the U-17 Training Camp [10.5 II]:
Illustrated plant encyclopedia // Borrowed from Shiraishi
Muscle training equipment // 5kg dumbbells. He is secretly doing strength training to improve his power
Camera // Digital SLR
Interior design magazines // He’s thinking about redecorating his room once he returns from the camp
[TRIVIA]
The Prince of Tennis 10.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 11/02/2001
He has his eyes closed most of the time to exude friendliness, but will open them when he’s being cautious or calculating. Konomi states they are usually closed whenever he’s smiling
His mother cooks a lot of Cajun and western dishes, which is why he doesn’t mind eating dubious food
He is very family-oriented and kind to his relatives. When he goes shopping with his sister they are often mistaken as lovers
Konomi wrote him to like spicy food since he wanted him to seem different and unusual
He is nicknamed “Fujiko” by Kawamura after the heroine of Lupin III since the latter is a fan of the series
On Sundays he goes to his grandfather’s photo studio on the outskirts of town to take photos
He tries keeping a smile on his face since he wants to find enjoyment in everything. Even when facing a strong opponent in a match, he thinks of how lucky he is that he’s able to go up against a great player
He and his brother Yuuta do not fight, but they do not talk to each other as often as they used to since Yuuta entered middle school
Although he notoriously likes spicy food, he likes sweets as well. He especially loves the raspberry pie his sister Yumiko makes
Despite being born on February 29th, a leap year, everyone still celebrates his birthday every year. Kikumaru once jokingly said to him “You’re only three years old!”
His personality is described as someone who’s very calculating while wearing a smile
Konomi describes him as “growing more on his own”, since at the time he was growing increasingly popular and took on a life of his own
The Prince of Tennis 20.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 12/04/2003
He is known to be very attentive and can make friends of all types
He keeps his room neat and orderly
He could not handle drinking “Aozu” in Genius 159 due to one of its key ingredients being vinegar (he dislikes sour foods)
His secondary sport would be figure skating
The Prince of Tennis 40.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 12/04/2007
He is very competitive and will usually stay calm and undaunted in any situation
He is described to be very versatile and multi-talented as well as fastidious, and has a tendency to delve deep into various things in order to feel satisfied
He is easily attracted to mysterious things
He is thought to have had strong spiritual powers by nature and has had strange occurrences happen to him
He is often misunderstood due to his mysterious nature, but he is actually very loving, compassionate and easily moved to tears
He had written a research paper on cacti the previous summer that received a lot of praise and attention, even surprising university researchers
He came up with the name “Gatekeeper of Hecatoncheires” for his technique from a book on Greece he had read when he was younger
Konomi had plans for him to transfer to Rikkai, and states he alluded it after his match with Ryoma, but ultimately decided for him to stay at Seigaku. He explains that he wanted him to transfer to grow even stronger and have a serious match against Ryoma
Konomi had wanted him to lose against Niou, but decided against it since he had already lost to Shiraishi
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Could’ve fooled me
Summery-
your best friend does a lot of things right. He studies hard, wakes up on time, never forgets your birthday, and likes all the same snacks as you. On the outside, everyone notices how sweet he is to you, always there when your in any trouble, always taking care of you. This year to celebrate your birthday, Jaemin’s mission is to get you to notice his efforts on making you his. It does not blow over too well…
Paring- Jaemin x reader
Warnings-
No gender mentioned in this part but afab• suggestive •college au• bestfriend jaemin• mentions of alcohol• consuming alcohol• angsty-ish?• Physical contact• you are both in college (medical school)
You are so lucky to have him, to have someone to talk to without the judging faces, or fear of being misunderstood. He always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better. You told him everything. He told you everything. You shared a sense of humour, taste in music, majors, and foods.
You can cry in front of him and he could cry in front if you. Ever since you two where kids. When you would have to stay over at his house when your moms condition got bad and dad was miles away for work- the point is- is that jaemin is like you guardian angel. You never had to deal with kids bothering you at school, he would always take care of it, he would help you study, and you would help him study (you helped him a lot more then he helped you) anyway-
People you would do anything for an amazing friend like that. Helps with medical assignments, cooking- if not for jaemin you would have starved to death. He takes care of you. You are so lucky, no one would want to lose someone like that….
So why are you currently hovering you thumb over the ‘block contact’ for his number?
|| na jaemAn-
Y/n pick up the phone, you are being ridiculous. It’s been 2 weeks! We have to talk eventually.
|| na jaemAn-
I have keys to your apartment… I don’t wanna push you but it seems like I don’t have a choice.
|| na jaemAn-
Ok ok I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen!
|| na jaemnAn-
Y/n please! Talk to me!!!
———————————————————————
______________________________________
Collage is fun- really it is, parties hang outs, movie nights, study nights, the list goes on. jaemin doesn’t drink though,he ever drinks.
however you did, always lightly, but never around him. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.
it was your birthday 2 weeks ago, and jaemin bought you soju and beer along with other very thoughtful gifts. Including a neckless, New blue tooth headphones and a bunch of gift cards. He knew you didn’t have any space in your wallet for more of them but he enjoyed seeing your face light up in excitement. He pushes the bottles of beer towards you to invite you to open one.
But You refused to drink explaining;
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, plus I don’t want to be drunk by myself-“ his brows furrowed together in confusion with a smile of his face. “there’s like 10 other people here” he responded in a ‘obviously’ kind of tone. “That’s basically the same thing.” They were your friends of course, but not like jaemin was. The dimly lit room and music with the others talking in the background; somehow made the environment so euphoric. And jaemin looked so dreamy- ABSOLUTELY NOT. Not already- the night just stared and you haven’t even drank anything. You mentally kick yourself. Jaemin stares at you. His face unreadable, as per usual.
Looking away you continue. “I’ll drink them another time when you’re not around” begining to push the pack of glass bottles away in the coffee table. dismissing the look he throws your way. trying to keep your cool. Absolutely refusing your feelings for him,
you’ve become quite a pro at it since middle school. Feelings coming and going throughout the years but this college version of your sweet old jaemin hit you like a meteor.
you can’t tell what he’s thinking now but you know his mind is up to no good. He looks so handsome, And even more mature then usual. “Why?” He finally responds a glint in his eyes. “Is there somthing that drunk you wants to tell me” He continues obviously teasingly.
You two were seated in the living room alone while your birthday ‘party’ continued in the other room without you. Both of you sat on the carpet floor, backs leaned against the sofa instead of sitting in it. Why? Don’t ask me this is your story not mine. You weirdo.
One of Jaemins arms placed on the couch behind your head and almost resting on your shoulders, relaxed comfortably, and other playing with the gift rap left on the table from when you excitedly ripped open his gifts to you. The veins in his arms on full display, taking a moment to realize how close you two where sitting. Which for you two should be perfectly normal. But it’s not, we’ll not to you at least. You do not trust yourself right now and your sober. Imagine taking even a sip of the alcohol. Relishing in the feeling of being this close to na Jaemin.
“Maybe a confession?” He presses, as if he’s seriously wondering. Grounding yourself, realizing your are indeed in a conversation with Him and should probably be present in it. you turn to see jaemin looking at you intently. It’s embarrassing how fast your checks flushed. And it did not go unnoticed on jaemins part.
“Sorry… what was the question?” You asked, lost in some sort of trance. His lidded eye following yours “If I drink tonight… will you?” he changed the subject. You didn’t catch it though, to busy trying to get the red in you face to retreat, just for one night. “No!“ you exclaimed. “Are you crazy, I’m not making you do something you don’t want to-“ you tried to scolding him but to no avail. He opened a beer and drank it. You blinked once!- You started at him in shock, disbelief, amusement?. “Jaemi-“ you start. Ready to scold him for being so reckless. You can see the look on his face when the drink burns down his throat. “-I drank, because I wanted to… I want you to enjoy your party, so.. now you have to” he said passing the can to you. He was obviously lying. He opened another one before taking a deep breath before drinking again. “This is considered per-pressuring”
You took the beer from his hands and sat there for a moment, jaemin watching closely. “You don’t need to watch me” you murmured looking away embarrassed again… again. Jaemin, amused, decided to tease further, I mean come on it’s his signature M.O. “am I making the birthday girl nervous, or maybe you’re scared I’m gonna find out your a light weight?” He needs you to have a good time, and you holding back just for his sake unsettles him.
Like I said jaemin always knows exactly what to say. His comment turning your conversation into a competition. A light weight!? You’ll show him a light weight.
Suddenly everyone was gathered in the living room, drinking and laughing and you were genuinely having a great time with all your friends. The clock is ticking and Ubers are being called. Drunk friends begging to spend the night, talking and slurring in their words. And you drunkenly agreeing until mr mature jaemin chimes in. Informing them that I’d be better for their head tomorrow if they wake up in the comfort of their home/room “Go lay down your legs are shaking.” He instructs, so he can make sure everyone gets to their rides safely. “Your looking at my legs?” You slurred curiously as jaemin watches the last guest get into their Uber that he called, (and paid for). Finally Turning to look at you with such gentle eyes. If they weren’t before your legs where definitely shaking now. He didn’t answer only smiling softly at your cuteness.
Your drunken confidence was so amusing to him. You are just so cute like this. But he needed you to relax. As much as he wants to hear all the other ridiculous thoughts rummaging through your head, You looked like you where about to fall over. Your thighs burn. And the top of your head seems so light. He guides you to your bed. One hand resting in your lower back leading you into your room. The other opening the door. He’s so sweet
“Jaemin… it’s really late, you need to get home before I mess up your sleep schedule” there you are, he thought. “Can’t leave you here like this” he explained. You turn to him with a glare on your face. A grin creeps in his face in amusement.
“I’m serious jae, and you can’t walk. you need to call an Uber because it’s supper cold AND it’s raini- oh my gosh it’s raining! On MY birthday!?!” you rambled on as he untied your hair. You continue Looking out the window in disappointment, distracted. “Aw y/n you care if I get wet? So sweet of you” he said in an unserious tone. He is just as out of it as you where, but you needed him right now. He wants you to know that he can take care you forever. Make sure you remember that he is perfect for you in the future. Your future.
“It’s not fair, your always taking care of me, I never get to take care of you” you whine. As if you where reading his mind. He sits you down. “That’s not true princess, you always take care of me” he reassures you. While squating down to take your socks of, holding your legs one at a time. His hands on you causing a tingle to go up your spine. And you feel something pooling between your legs.
he knows everything about you. He knows You don’t like sleeping with your socks on or hair up, or that calling you ‘princess’ would make you melt to his touch. You looked down at him in a trance. Watching him treat you like royalty.
“…You always help me clean around my dorm, Help me with school, shopping for my moms birthday, your so sweet to me y/n” he stresses the last part looking up at you. “It’s not the same” you replied following his eyes as he stands back up, Now looking down at you and your beautiful gaze on him, and him only, goosebumps cover his arms when your gaze shifts to his lips. You join him climbing to your feet. He holds your arms to help you gain balance “Wanna take care of you… like a good friend, wanna be sweet for you” you added. Looking up at him with so much adoration. “Yeah?”He said leaning in. Lost in lust, you close the gap between your lips. He begins Kissing back. His movements taking over. And you give in to him willingly. His hand travelling to your hips and one resting on your check, caressing your face. kissing you passionately. He holding you so gently. You fall limb against his chest deepening the kiss. Suddenly you move your hands to his chest pulling shirt towards you. You needed him to be closer to you, inside you. He was not complaining.
Sensing the change in mood. Both hands grip you hips pulling the firmly into his. God he wanted you under him, wearing nothing but the necklace he just bought you, wants to hear your pretty little voice moaning his name. Wants to hear you tell him how good his doing. God it’s driving him crazy!
His growing bulge rubbing against you. A knock at the front door knocked some sense into jaemin. You’re both drunk you fucking idiot. Was he taking advantage of you??
He lightly pushes you away and makes his way to your door. Not missing the hurt confused look on your face when he slips away from you, he leaves you standing in your bedroom. He closed the door behind him. Wanting you to (hopefully) lay down.
He opens your front door to your roommate sihyun. “I dropped Soomin off but I left my keys here” she laughs embarrassingly. “Is y/n ok?” She asks catching him off guard. “Oh uh- y-yeah she’s fine-asleep actually- I was just heading out.” “Oh ok, well I’m sure she’s glad you came every if she too drunk to show it” she jokes. Oh you have no idea. He joins her laughter. But his smile doesn’t reach his eyes and he bids her goodnight to your roommate. Grabbing his stuff and heading out the door. You’ll forget about the kiss in the morning anyway right?
______________________________________
Not exactly. You woke up slowly due to the sun in your face but you jumped up remembering your lips on Jaemin’s. All you really could remember was that YOU kissed HIM and him pushing him way. You weren’t even THAT drunk… why cant you remember anything!?? maybe it was trauma responds to the guy you’ve liked since middle school rejecting your advances.
I’m such an idiot
———————————————————————
|| na jaemAn
Y/n please! Talk to me!!!
|| na jaemAn
I’m coming over…
College really is fun….
#kpop imagines#jaemin smut#jaemin angst#nct u#nct x reader#nct dream#na jaemin#fan fiction#nct imagines#nct dream angst#nct dream jaemin#jaemin x reader#jaemin#nct smut#jaemin fluff#nct dream x reader#nct dream imagines#nct dream au#nct jaemin#nct dream fluff#nct scenarios#na jaemin au#na jaemin x reader#nct hard hours#nct fic#nct dream x y/n#nct dream hard hours
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Pop to the Shop (Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader)
Summary: Your roommate has a strict routine to follow when he comes home from work, and you couldn't be more delighted by it.
AN: Finally! I've written for Gaz! One of my fave tropes for the COD fandom too is the roommates to lovers, so I wrote it for him because he deserves all the love <3
Reader is GN, no use of Y/N
Masterlist // AO3 Version
Kyle Garrick always returned from his work with a carton of milk.
Upon first moving into the shared flat, he’d disclosed his occupation was being involved with the military and that the schedule was an erratic creature that evaded any knowledge until mere minutes before he was required to leave, giving him enough time to scrabble his going away bag together and send you a text that you could have his leftover takeaway sitting on his fridge shelf.
Initially, you were fine with it. You liked having the flat to yourself, and, as much as you liked your new roommate, having this amount of space to yourself without the debilitating price tag was appealing.
When he returned three weeks later at half nine in the morning, Kyle bought a bag for life’s worth of comfort foods. First thing he did was make himself a strong coffee, splashing some of the milk on the side, and he chugged it back as if it didn’t burn his throat all the way down to his stomach.
“Need to keep myself up,” He excused whilst a little out of breath, “Fuckin’ hate jet lag.”
“You could have a short nap later,” You suggested, noticing how his shoulders sagged at the idea, “And I could wake you up if you’re worried about oversleeping.”
He took you up on that offer. A few hours later, when he’d dropped off just after eating a hearty lunch with you, you tiptoed into his room and touched his bare arm that clutched the duvet to his chest. He awoke straight away, grumbling a little until he opened his eyes and gave you a bleary-eyed smile.
“Thanks,” He said, his voice deep and groggy.
“I’ll drag you out so you don’t drop off if you’re not careful,” You teased in an attempt to cover up the little fluttering in your chest.
Unfortunately, your tactic failed. Your heartrate only increased at the deep chuckle that Kyle let out at the idea. Being a military man, you had no doubts he’d overpower you if he wanted to. Instead, he humoured you and let you take him by the wrist and tug until he was sitting up, pyjama bottoms wrinkled up his leg.
As thanks, he used his milk to make you both a hot drink. Your afternoon was spent on the couch together, grateful that your days off had aligned. It was that afternoon that Kyle kissed you for the first time, his lips warm from the drink and struggling to keep kissing you from how much he was smiling.
From then on, he always made sure to stop off at the nearest shop and get some milk – just in case.
His return time was never guaranteed. His key had and would continue to hit the front door at all times of day (and night) meaning he sometimes stopped off at a 24hour garage to pay an extra quid on the same amount of milk, just to carry on the gag. Sneaking into the flat and dropping it into the fridge: in the door if there was room, and on the top shelf if you’d recently opened a different carton.
Just so that, when you woke up in a few hours and saw it up there, spied his boots by the front door in their own piles of dirt, or sand or leaves, you’d know. You could leap in to where he’d fallen asleep in his oft unused bed – the excuse being that he didn’t want to wake you up. You didn’t have this problem and planted yourself down against his side, beaming as he stirred and wrapped his arm around you to stay in bed for a while longer.
His next point of business was to sit together on the couch, mugs warming your hands, bodies warming souls as they leant against one another and you talked about anything that had elapsed in his time away.
Kyle’s arm always found its way around the back of the couch before dropping around your shoulders, tracing a circle over and over the fabric of your shirt’s sleeve. Occasionally, he’d cup over that spot to pull you closer for a kiss and a cuddle.
His work schedule might be unpredictable but Kyle’s welcome home routine more than made up for it.
#kyle garrick x reader#kyle garrick#gaz x reader#kyle garrick fanfic#kyle garrick imagine#kyle garrick fluff#gaz fanfic#cod#mw2#cod fanfic#mw2 fanfic#cod x reader#my writing#r: gn#wc: 1k<
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The Miys, Ch. 209
Thank you everyone who is still here after the last chapter... Your patience with the world’s weirdest plot point is appreciated. Also, everyone who came for the story and has stayed for the doodles.
Also appreciated: @baelpenrose for beta work on this chapter, as always.
Happy Halloween, Samhain, and Day of the Dead (I don’t know the correct salutation to that lost one, so apologies and let me know if you know what it should be) to everyone who celebrates them, since the next chapter won’t come until afterwards.
The first thing I thought as I walked into my office was Why does it smell like jalapeno and cinnamon?
That particular train of thinking ended as abruptly as my stride when I noticed the walls. Immediate impressions were simply “orange”, and only slightly improved when I realized why - everywhere I looked, my office, my sacred working space, was covered floor-to-ceiling in pumpkins.
“Floor.” I blurted out in emphasis. “Why floor?”
Hannah just waved the question away. “Why not floor? Why not ceiling? Why not both?”
With no small degree of dawning horror, I slowly rolled my eyes upward at the ceiling. “Puh,” I squeaked as I took in the sight of my ceiling coated in a thick layer of moving yellow fuzz, only scant patches of orange showing through. The bags in my hands hit the floor with a dull thud, and all I could do was gape.
Something warm was pressed into my hand as I tried to comprehend what I was looking at. I started piecing together that the pumpkin art was being removed by Else, who seemed to be enjoying their treat with singular abandon. “Parvati?” I asked.
“She found the paint pens, yes.” Hannah’s voice was suddenly deeper, far more droll, and severely British. Her hands were also noticeably larger as she steered me to a chair to sit in front of her. I only realized it was actually Alistair when he plunked a lid and a straw on my coffee. “I don’t trust you to drink freely in your current state.”
Definitely Alistair.
I took a couple of careful sips, focusing on the artificial alertness sizzling in my half-shocked brain. “Extra espresso?”
“And extra sugar, yes.”
“Thanks.” Gradually, I took everything in while slurping contentedly. Pumpkins really were painted everywhere. It was like a fever dream, a sensation only enhanced as I watched Else trundle along the ceiling in blissful ignorance of gravity. “Did she have to do the ceiling and the floor?”
Hannah sighed and screwed her mouth to the side. “Just be glad she ran out of paint halfway through your desk.” When I started to snap my head around to look, she placed a hand over mine and squeezed gently. “Else already ate that, it’s clean.”
I slumped in slight relief. “Then it could have clearly been worse. Somehow.”
An ear-splitting shriek proved me horribly wrong. All eyes turned toward the door, and both Hannah and I were half-standing as it slid open to reveal a bouncing, squealing version of my sister that was clearly summoned from the depths of hell. “My office is covered in ghosts and skeletons!” she cried in delight as she bounded forward before stopping short. “Oh wow, that’s a lot of pumpkins….”
Parvati was one step behind her, wiggling a finger in her left ear to banish the inevitable ringing that would have resulted in such close proximity to a noise that penetrated bulkheads. Karma at its finest, in my judgment.
Half-glaring, I nodded. “Eyeah. Helluva scene to walk into half asleep, I’ll go ahead and tell you that. Also, why don’t I have skeletons and ghosts?”
“Why don’t I have pumpkins?” Tyche demanded.
Flicking her braid over one shoulder, Parvati drew herself into a confident pose. “Different colors evoke different emotions. I made sure to use oranges in Sophia’s office because I know she struggles to wake up in the mornings, and it’s a bright and wakeful, but cheery, color. It evokes energy! And the spicy scents of jalapeno and cinnamon are warming and comforting, reducing possible anxiety in the face of a full workday - “
Hannah interrupted. “She also ran out of white and gray.”
“Shut up, Hannah,” her counterpart hissed playfully. “I used whites and grays in Tyche’s office because the subtlety of the colors against the neutral bulkheads would be less distracting and also lend itself to the ethereal quality of the skeletons and ghosts….”
I rubbed my temples gently in mock frustration. “Promise me you didn’t do this anywhere else?”
She paused before venturing slowly, “I may have also painted Professor Farro’s office.”
“SO HELP ME CTHULU if you used red in his office…!” Alistair shouted, panicking.
Hannah started snorting, and Tyche pulled an about-face to hide her smile. To her credit, Parvati looked extremely confused. “I used blue? You know: trust, detachment? And a big dose of ‘chill the fuck out’ just in case?”
Alistair was still scowling until Hannah was able to get her laughter under control. “Also, you already ate all the red on your scones, Worthington. I promise, there wasn’t even enough to fake a mild sunburn, much less paint Arthur’s office with it.”
He reached a shaky hand for a chair to steady himself until he could sit in it. “The mental image of Farro steepling his fingers and staring over them like some creep from those anime he enjoys was simply too much. I daresay he would wear his glasses and leave his office door open, just for the occasion.”
I started to laugh, but then the exact image he was talking about popped in my head. With my third, fresh dawning horror of the day, I turned my head toward my assistant. “Please tell me neither of you possess a hair straightener?”
“I do not, but I can only speak for myself.”
As hilarious as the mental image of Arthur Farro dressing up as Gendo Ikari for Halloween was, I had serious doubts that everyone on the Ark would be well versed enough in late-Twentieth Century pop culture to know it was a costume. I was entirely sure that not enough would know it was a joke to persuade anyone that Farro had not, in fact, gone full genocidal dictator overnight.
“Fuuuuuck fuckfuckfuckfuck,” I started chanting. Finishing off my coffee, I started giving out directions. “Parvati, do nothing. Seriously. Nothing else. Hannah, I need you to call Charly and let her know not to make any more red paint without authorization from myself or Xiomara. Alistair, Tyche, I would tell you to hold down the fort, but it would be like telling you to breathe, so just do what you do, please.”
“Where are you going?” Tyche demanded as I bolted for the door.
“To warn Xiomara that it’s a joke!” I shouted over my shoulder. “Potatoes in bags on the floor, help yourselves, I’ll be baaaaack!”
The door closed behind me just as I heard a confused voice ask “Potatoes?”
I was panting when I reached Xio’s office and frantically started requesting entry. The door was only slightly cracked when I heard her snap “WHAT?”
“There was a prank!” I shouted as the door opened enough for me to enter. “I don’t think it was meant to be a prank, but there was a prank and Arthur got dragged into it, and I need to make sure you know that he isn’t actually a genocidal maniac hellbent on bringing a deceased love back from the dead at the cost of his own child and any others he can get his hands on.” I was gasping for air when I finished, and entirely unphased by Xiomara’s expression.
“Youuuuu need a med eval…” she responded, flicking open her datapad while keeping an eye on me.
Diving forward, I shook her wrist to dismiss the datapad. Three seconds later, I was staring up at her from the floor, shoulder aching and wrist sprained. Probably. “Well, I sure as fuck do now, Jesus Christ, Xio. Just let me explain before you put me in the hug jacket okay?”
“Fifteen seconds.”
Generous of her. “Parvati painted Arthur’s office for the holiday, only he’s going to think it was a prank if it looks anything like mine did. We both know he is going to go overboard in retaliation, because Arthur. My best guess is that he is going to paint his office red and dress up like Gendo Ikari, who you can look up in the database to understand why I came to warn you.”
“Three seconds left.” Impressed, she helped me up off the floor. “So, you are warning me because…?”
“Because we are trying to warn Charly not to make him any paint until we can explain it was well-intentioned, but just in case Hannah can’t reach her in time to head it off from that direction, you are going to get complaints.”
“From students?”
“From passersby. There isn’t a chance this side of death that he would go to those lengths and not let everyone walking past his office see what he’s done. You know how much pride he takes in a job well done.”
“And triple that in a well-executed prank,” she nodded. “I’m going to look up the name you gave me, and if you promise not to try to grab me again, I’ll let you keep the other wrist and skip the psych hold.”
Cradling my already throbbing arm, I nodded. I was still pretty sure it was only sprained, but I couldn’t move it very well so concern was starting to set in alongside the pain.
Her nod told me she found the relevant images, but when her eyes widened I realized that she was reading the background profile. “No wonder you sounded like your grip on reality slipped…. And this was an actual entertainment that people watched?”
“Hey!” I objected. “It makes more sense when you are watching it.” Granted, not much, but at least some. “You would be astonished the number of people who remember it fondly as their first exposure to the genre.”
She just shook her head. “You can keep your religious hallucination television, thank you…. The creator was having an active psychiatric episode while writing this!?”
“Allegedly.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You had Derek plant this, right?”
“Not even I could make up that show, four manga, and six films.”
“SIX?”
“What can I say? We didn’t like the ending. Or the other ending. Or the other other ending.”
She dismissed her datapad and stood, hands held up in a defensive posture. “Nope. Not doing it. You said ‘we’, which means you’re part of it. Thank you for the warning that Farro may go overboard, please leave my office.”
I turned toward the door, grumbling. “Geez, you didn’t even see how bad the ship wars for that one were…”
“OUT! NOW!”
<<Prev Masterlist Next>>
#the miys#found family#humans are weird#humans are space orcs#humans are space fae#haw#original science fiction#original sci fi#original fiction#apocalypse#post apocalypse#post post apocalypse#my writing
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A little (anti) capitalist dream
My personal thoughts on commitment to oneself, jobs, time blindness, sensory overload and third places.
Because of how I’m naturally inclined, I wish I’d have the following happen to me. I want to be forced to wake up for work, and then, once I’m on the bus to town, be informed that I have the day off. Yes, that is what I would like. At a fresh but not painful hour, like 9 o’clock in the morning, I would get up and spend no more than 35 minutes getting ready. Why is that time, and whatever I accomplish in that time good enough on my work days, but not on my days off? Somehow my hair looks good enough barely styled, the outfit I throw together will do and I don’t procrastinate filling my cats food bowl and scooping her shit. I gotta go, got a bus to catch and a day to live. I do not have (make) time to eat, which sucks and I rely too much on working in a grocery store inside a mall, which could be its own capitalist comment. Plus the food offered there isn’t even that great.
Anyway. That morning routine might not sound nice to everyone, but to me, the other version is much much worse. Or has the potential to be. I’m realising that having that one bus to catch leaves little room to think. In the best way. So then getting ready on my day off, can so fucking easily slip into becoming my own personal hell.
The languidity of it all. When does luxury become boring? When does eating cake make you feel sick to your stomach? And we all know time is a luxury. So, the fucking sweaty, slow, indecisive, fussy languidity of it all. That is the reason I would love that kind of day, why I need to feel like I’m going to work and am expected at the precise time. And when am I the most interested in the world and looking at what new stores there are in town and looking at other people and writing my ideas and sketching in a coffee shop and buying gifts for an upcoming birthday and reading poetry?
Standing under the fluorescent lights in my uniform that came with the nearly minimum wage.
Maybe my personal hell or curse is just wanting to be somewhere other than I am.
So I wake up, realistically closer to 11 o’clock. I check the weather and try on an outfit. Then a different top. Nope. Where are those pants? Okay, I’m not making the bus I wanted to (not had to). I find an outfit, I’m already a bit sweaty, the hair at the back of my neck irritates me. I sit down to do my makeup. (I want to get out of here. Into the temperature the outfit is meant for, get started.) Yet I find myself going through my saved Instagram posts, my saved Tiktoks for makeup inspiration. (This was supposed to be a functional step to get me out. Of. the. house.) So not the time for inspiration and fucking brainstorming and definitely not trying something new that I will probably hate. After finishing that part, which I either love or can physically feel on my face which makes me want to rub my skin off, I need to pack. Oh, my cats food. I check the time and see I’ve missed the next bus I was going to take. I tend to my cat, rub her small head and finally, the air hits my face.
It’s almost 1 o’clock.
I need to keep moving in order to not scream and completely melt down at that realisation or at my still-sweaty back or still- empty stomach, and try to keep it out of my mind how few hours of daylight there are left.
The library is free and quiet, but I think the air is pretty bad because I feel lethargic so soon, while cafés are nicer but loud with cramped wobbly tables and of course the overpriced drink or snack aka entrance fee. So much for third spaces.
I am aware that these things wouldn’t change in the case of my dream day, but I know my tolerance of them would. When I have a good day in town, I do not think like that.
So on my dream-day I embody much more of what I want to be. The kind of woman I want to be. Effortless, yet, with a purpose. Driven by inspiration and a foundational belief that of course it must be pursued. Because I’d only live the first half, the tight scheduled, extremely efficient morning. Not the second half where I’m an adult that has to stand for 8 hours and ask permission to go take a piss.
I’d leave my house slightly frazzled in a chic way, with a book or two in hopes of reading on the bus. I’m listening to music I like. I have five minutes, so there isn’t room for much else in my head. No room for doubts about my clothes or makeup (or lack thereof) or what I brought or didn’t bring with me. I’ve started my day and it’s only onward from here.
They say perfectionism and procrastination go hand-in-hand. That’s why I need that cut-off, you know? I must leave at that time, no wiggle room and once I’m out, I’m out. No going back and perfecting. No going back and fussing.
That’s difficult to feel when I’m not accountable to anyone but myself. And unfortunately, how it feels, rules everything.
So I sit on the bus, bright and early and watch the beautiful sky. I am free because I’m confined to my schedule. After a while I’m a ways away from home, and I get a phone call. Or a text message.
And all at once, my day is mine again.
I get off the bus in town. After all, I’m already here! It’s only mid morning. I’m not ideally prepared, but I’m dressed, I have all my essentials and nothing but time and a bright sky. I do not think about how overpriced the coffee is, or how one table leg is too short. It doesn’t feel like so much of a nauseating indulgence, as much as that I have been granted permission. Again, I'm already here. I marvel at how much (potentially) fruitful time I have ahead of me. The very best hours to get things done, in fact, according to modern society. Because we all know not all hours of the day are created equal. I look out the window and make a plan. And if it turns out I didn’t bring my notebook, it's okay, because my neck isn’t sweaty and I can just use the computer at the library.
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Ch. 5: A Push and a Loner
Pairing: Barry Allen x OFC // Fandom: The Flash
Story Masterlist • Previous Stories: Rise Up • It Had To Be You • Belén’s Masterlist
• Can also be found on Fanfic and Ao3 •
Taglist: @ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet @foxesandmagic @frostandflamesfanfic
Let us out.
We want to be free.
We will come out.
Belén jumped in her seat when Iris dropped a file of papers on her desk. Belén blinked up at Iris who was suspiciously eyeing her.
"What?" Belén looked around and saw none of their co-workers had stopped to look at them oddly. CC Pictures was, after all, a place of gossip.
"I just thought you forgot how to blink," Iris picked up her papers from Belén's desk then peered over to Belén's computer screen.
Belén was meant to be working on an article due that same day, in a couple hours actually, but was still nowhere near finished. Iris knew that, she'd been watching Belén all day and noticing how...distant Belén seemed. At random times Belén would just start staring into space, like she was forgetting where she was or what she was doing. It was odd, even for her.
"I'm just tired," Belén gave a little smile and got back to work. "Thanks for the wake up call."
"Mm," Iris eyed her for another minute before continuing on her way to her own desk.
Belén discreetly watched after her and scolded herself for being so weak. You can get this under control, she told herself.
She just needed distractions off her usual fear thoughts. She needed to take control. That was the key to everything. After all, it wouldn't be the first time she needed to work on getting control over herself. It was what she kept telling Caitlin to do and she should employ it herself to make the example.
"I can hear the voices, Cait," Belén explained as she and Caitlin walked into Jitters later that day. "What does that mean? That I'm actually going to go crazy here?"
"I think...actually, I don't know what to think," Caitlin admitted. She herself didn't understand how her powers came to be except that it was because of her siphoning device they used to "defeat" Datura.
They each ordered a drink then went to take a seat at an empty table. Belén fidgeted in her chair like she would lose it at any second. "Do you hear...her voice?" she asked in a whisper.
Caitlin shook her head. "No. At least, not now." Belén sighed, frustrated with her unique situation. Caitlin didn't like seeing Belén so...lost. She felt partially responsible because she created the siphoning device and now even she couldn't figure out where it went wrong, why it had gone wrong in this version of their time line. According to Barry, they had successfully defeated Datura in the original time line without any sign of...whatever the hell this was right now."You know, it might have to do with the fact you're using them more than I have."
Belén's eyebrows knitted together, taken aback by the assumption but definitely didn't discarded. "I...you think?"
Caitlin didn't say anything while the waitress stopped by to hand them each their drink to go. "It's possible that while you're attempting to use them, it's giving a chance for development. Involuntary development."
"I can't just not use them," Belén nursed her cup of coffee like her life depended on it. "I've been down the road of pushing powers away. It resulted in me losing total control. I don't want that again." She took a sip of her coffee and crinkled her nose. "It's cold."
Caitlin managed a weak smile as she drank from own cup, which turned out to be just fine. The two women then got up from the table and started to leave.
"I think, maybe, leaving them aside for now would be best," Caitlin offered a piece of advice after the two headed down the street.
"No," Belén knew that wasn't an option. "I can't ignore them, especially when they talk to me. I have to practice, take control before they do. And maybe you should too." Caitlin bit her lip, just nervous at that idea already. "Just because she hasn't talked to you doesn't mean she won't ever. She's lurking…"
"I...I don't think so," Caitlin shot that down before it could manifest in her own mind. "I don't want to use my powers."
"Well…" Belén came to a slow stop, "I didn't ask for them but I'm going to learn how to use them." Her eyes lowered to her cold cup of coffee. "In fact…"
Caitlin followed Belén's gaze and started shaking her head. "Bells…"
Belén made a hand gesture for Caitlin to stop. "Starts now," Belén shrugged. She focused her attention on her cup and the exact power she would need to use. It was strange — not the attempt to use her usual plant-based powers — but this was what she was given now and she would have to get by with it.
It just didn't work out the first time.
Caitlin gasped when the cup burst into flames. Belén dropped it instantly and, alarmed, stared with wide eyes at the flaming cup on the ground. "Oh my God!"
Caitlin looked around to see if anyone had noticed yet. Thankfully, most of them were on their phones. She quickly stomped on the cup and put out the small fire. She yanked Belén into a sprint-like walk.
"I'm sorry! I didn't know that would happen!" Belén kept glancing over her shoulder to spot anyone who might have caught them.
"Don't look back!" Caitlin hissed and immediately Belén obeyed. "I understand you want to practice them—"
"But you don't," Belén forced them to stop at the end of the street. "Caitlin, you got one power from that siphoning device. I got...I don't know how many powers I got," she turned her hand over and let flames consume it.
Caitlin once again nervously looked around. "Stop that!"
Belén let the flames die and a red energy erupt from her hand instead. Caitlin looked so pale she could have passed out on the spot. Belén put her hand down and turned her head to the road where Caitlin saw her raise a couple of rocks.
"Belén…" Caitlin was terrified and so Belén finally let it all die.
"I almost burned myself a couple days ago when I tried out my heat powers, remember?" Belén made Caitlin think back to a the night they'd gotten together at Caitlin's apartment in order to...test out their powers. "Barry kept asking me if I was okay. And I definitely had to get rid of my clothes before his freaky forensics nose got into the scorch marks on my blouse."
"I'm so sorry I did this to you—to us—" Caitlin covered her mouth with the back of her hand. All she had wanted to do was save Datura from her terminal illness. She ventured to create such a complex siphoning device that would have - ideally - restored Datura's biology enough so that she would keep her powers and be stable. Caitlin never foresaw that instead she would alter her own friend's DNA along with hers. She'd given them a part of Datura's powers with the danger of unstable DNA as well. She recreated the problem, twice.
"Caitlin, it's okay," Belén hugged the near crying brunette. She didn't blame Caitlin at all. It was, unfortunately, an accident. The timelines changed and they had to make do with what they had. All that was left to do was try to control it.
~0~
Cisco stood alone in the breach room with eyes glued to the swirling breech in front of him. Little by little, the group began to arrive from his urgent call.
"What's going on? Why'd you open a breach?" Barry quickly rushed up beside Cisco. Who the hell could be on that other side? He dreaded to know. If his luck was with him, maybe it was a benign area on the other side, maybe like Anais' world. He would like to see her again...or maybe…
"What's a breach doing open?" Belén made both men turn to see her and Caitlin coming in. "We didn't decide on that, did we?"
Caitlin shook her head to answer. "No we did not."
"I didn't do it," Cisco raised his hands in defense. "That's why I called you." He pointed at Barry.
"Well, can you close it?"
"Once again, I wouldn't have called if I could."
"Okay, well, who's coming through?" Belén cautiously stepped forwards with Caitlin.
The breach rippled as someone finally crossed through and with it went the group's nerves. Harry Wells jumped through, although if the group had been paying more attention they would have seen the urgency on the man's face.
"Allen," Harry Wells greeted, "I need your help."
Barry was still trying to process this unannounced visit to properly dread what new problem Earth 2 could be facing. "With...what?"
But before Harry could answer, someone suddenly zipped through the breach and went around the whole room before stopping in front of Barry. The gust of wind she left behind put everyone into a state of surprise.
"With that," Harry pointed a finger, unimpressed, at his daughter.
"Hey, guys," Jesse waved with a cheery hand at the dumbfounded group.
Harry would then have to explain how his daughter was now a metahuman. They moved into the cortex to better discuss the new change.
"When did this happen?" Wally was probably the most affected, but no one would really know then.
"A few days ago," Jesse was all too happy to explain. Everyone could tell she was over the moon happy with her speed.
Harry, not so much. "So, when I got Allen his speed back, Wally and Jesse were hit with the dark matter. Turns out she was affected," he glanced at his gleeful daughter. "She was totally affected."
"But I didn't get speed, so could it have been from something else?" Wally asked.
"No... I mean, I doubt it. Dark matter affects different people in different ways at different times...sometimes not at all, so be thankful, but she was affected, and I want to run some tests and find out just how much."
"Well, then, you've come to the right place. Let's go to the Speed Lab," Caitlin suggested but both Harry and Barry turned to her with similar confusion.
"Speed Lab?"
~ 0 ~
The 'Speed Lab' turned out to be a rather dramatically large room with everything a speedster would need to train...except Barry had no idea it even existed, and he didn't remember ever training inside of it. He was mostly struck by the large tube-like structure that actually ran above them. According to Cisco, Barry had been using it nonstop
"Something tells me you've never been in this room before…" Cisco sarcastically said to the open-mouthed Barry in the center of the room.
"Nope," the speedster confirmed.
Harry stopped and turned to Barry, only giving him a brief glance before he got the gist of what was going on. "Wait, you...you nev...Allen." Barry actually winced at the sharp edge in Harry's voice. "I suppose that means you traveled back in time again."
"Yeah, but—"
"How many times did I tell you not to do that?"
"How did you even figure that out so fast?" asked Belén.
Before they could say anything else, Nina walked in. Her condition made both Jesse and Harry gasp. She rolled her eyes and looked at the others. "Seriously, anyone else going to give me the wide-eyed look? I've been pregnant for almost nine months!"
"Not from where we stand," Harry settled a sharp glare on Barry.
"How are they immune?" Iris nodded to Harry and Jesse, wondering how that was even possible if no one else noticed the timeline changed.
"Because it's another Earth, so it's another timeline," Harry answered her. "So when did you do it?" He once again turned on Barry. "After we returned to Earth-2?"
"Look, Harry, only a couple things are different—" Barry didn't even get his attempt at an explanation.
"Oh, I'm sure. Not."
Cisco's eyebrows raised. "Really? You guys are doing "not" on Earth-2 now?"
"Uh, no. That's all him," Jesse jerked a thumb at her father.
"Okay, let's just get Jesse on the track and see what she can do," Barry hoped to get things moving because Harry's sharpened eyes were not something he could withstand for long.
"Yeah, let's do it," Jesse was all too happy to show off her new speed. "All right. Check this out!" she took off into the tubing and ran as fast as she could.
"Damn. She really can move!" Joe was the first to react with popping-wide eyes, making the others laugh...except Harry and Wally.
"Yeah, she can. Um... I got to go," Wally tore his gaze from the speeding Jesse and left in a hurry.
"Wally?" Iris called after him but it was no use. It was easy to tell he wasn't quite thrilled with the news. Iris offered to go talk to him but it still wasn't enough to ease Joe.
"Look, it's just... it is better if he doesn't have speed," Barry moved over to Joe but was surprised to find the opposite in Joe.
"Oh, you don't have to convince me of that. The last thing I want is two of my kids zipping around the city, running into danger!"
"Cause he looked pretty disappointed…"
"This is about that other timeline, isn't it?"
Barry had only just thought about the fact Wally could be next on Alchemy's list. He had been a speedster, and though not an evil meta, Barry was sure Alchemy would do something to make Wally a threat. "No, I just... I think you should keep an eye out."
~ 0 ~
Things were picking up with the metahumans Alchemy was summoning. At least that's what Barry thought this new case was all about. John Kane had been attacked with a street lamp post the previous night that just happened to fly into the apartment.
"That smells like a metahuman case from a mile off," Belén told her mother as the Detective led her daughter into the offices. "You have to give me something."
"Yeah, even though you're my daughter—" Veronica stopped and turned to Belén, making the younger woman bump into her, "—I can't do that. Iris came in with the same attempt about an hour ago."
"She did?" Belén blinked.
"Oh yeah, I thought you were worked at the same place…?" Veronica gave her a strange smile.
Belén weakly smiled back. Truth be told, she hadn't quite listened to Iris that morning. The voices were inhabiting her mind and Iris' voice just couldn't break through. "Must have forgotten."
"You okay?" Veronica asked and looked her over to make her own assumptions. "You've been acting...a little...odd, even for people like us."
"I'm just tired," Belén said and believed herself to be telling a technical truth.
"Hm, take a little rest, then," Veronica patted Belén's arm then spotted Barry coming in. "You!" she snapped her fingers at him, making him immediately hold his hands in defense.
"Am I in trouble?"
Belén rolled her eyes and turned around to him. "Have you done anything else?"
"No," he frowned at the similar stares he was getting from both mother and daughter. "I just…" he made a hand gesture to them, the open office where Joe was conducting an interview with a young girl, and to the reception, "...I'm just...doing my job…"
"Help me out on mine then," Belén walked up to him with a warm smile. "I need deets on this case."
"Nu-uh!" Veronica warned her. "You can't bat your eyes at our forensics to get private information."
"Is it a meta?" Belén ignored her mother and waited for Barry to answer her. "You know I can't write about that anyways. Not if it's...you know, Alchemy's doing," she whispered in the end.
Barry apologetically smiled at Veronica who groaned. "I'm pretty sure it's a meta, though I don't know if it has to do with Alchemy."
"Well, we wouldn't know that until we need this new meta," Belén waved a finger in the air and walked towards the nearest desk.
"Barry," Veronica called to him again, this time serious as a Detective, "What exactly did you find? Because we're not getting much from that girl," she nodded towards the open office, "Frankie Kane."
"Well, the outer layer of the lamppost is a half an inch thick, but to bend even a quarter-inch of steel requires 177 tons of tensile strength, so…"
"Are we looking for Mr. Incredible?" Belén smiled at the two, wanting to chuckle at her own joke.
"...but I'm the dork?" Barry playfully asked.
"That's a truth too," she gave a nod. "But back to that little theory—"
"I know you're not infiltrating information to a reporter, Allen," Julian strode into the room, missing Barry rolling his eyes at him, and met Belén's smug look. "You know it's against the rules."
"Mhm, I know how much of a stickler you are for rules," she leaned against the desk and crossed her arms. "But this is off the record, so c'mon…" she gestured with a hand for him to keep going. "Let me hear how the story ends."
Julian upheld her stare for about a minute or so before he continued with their discoveries. Veronica looked between her daughter, Julian and Barry and wondered to what extent did Belén have the two men in front of them wrapped around her fingers.
"...the only problem with Barry's little theory is there were no fingerprints found on the post."
Barry really had to force himself not to roll his eyes at Julian. "Again, Julian, not my theory, and the meta could've been wearing gloves—"
Julian did not hold back. He raised a hand to stop Barry from talking. "Yes, perhaps. But the curvature on the post suggests that equal amounts of pressure were applied to the whole thing at the same time. So, unless our strong man has a wingspan of over 20 feet…"
"Something else caused it," Veronica nodded.
"You two are not really going to fight over theories, I hope," Belén warned Barry and Julian seeing as the two couldn't stop glaring at each other.
"They've fought over less," Veronica mumbled to her and moved for the office. She had pulled Joe out from the office so that they could converse.
"Who's that?" Julian spotted Frankie from the open door.
"That's Frankie Kane, the victim's foster kid," Joe seemed to be harboring something."That poor girl's been in and out of homes for years. Listen, she said that she blacked out during the incident."
"Blacked out?" Julian repeated, confused. From the desk, Belén listened in with a little more interest.
"Yeah. Repressing memories is a coping mechanism for lots of foster kids," Barry gave a little insight but it didn't seem to keep Julian at bay.
"Hmm. Is it?"
Barry's glare was just automatic at this point. "It is," he mimicked Julian's accent.
"It could be something else," Julian pushed past him to get to the office.
"When will you two just...stop?" Belén sighed as she leaned away from the desk.
Barry gestured after the blonde who was in the middle of discreetly taking Frankie's glass of water. "Did you not just—"
"Like school boys, you are," Belén shook her head at him. "But those blackouts...what if they're not just blackouts?"
Even though Barry was fairly annoyed she was getting on his case for something Julian so easily provoked, he listened to her question. "Blackouts have been...a recurring theme for metas…"
Belén cleared her throat when the theory got back to her. It was how she'd started losing control of her powers when she first got them almost three years ago. That...made her wonder. "I have to go," she said with the idea fresh in her mind.
"What? You're not going to persuade these two idiots to keep telling you whatever you want?" Veronica's gesture at him made Barry even more annoyed.
"No, not today, gotta go!" Belén scurried out of there with the intention of finding someone.
~ 0 ~
Jesse came to a stop with a laugh after finishing up a new round of exams for Caitlin and Cisco. "So, how'd I do?" she eagerly waited to hear the response.
"Blood pressure, heart rate, metabolic rate all excellent. And you've got some serious speed, girl," Caitlin looked up from her computer scanner with a proud smile. "I think you're good to go."
Harry, who stood on the other end of the computers, pointed a finger at Caitlin. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I still want to run a few more tests."
"Like what?" Cisco gave him a look. They were basically finished with every possible test they could conduct on Jesse.
"Like...more tests," Harry waved him off.
"Hey, so, is Wally here?" Jesse peered to the doorway of the room.
"No, not yet," Caitlin was sorry to say. She could tell Jesse really wanted Wally to be there for her.
"Right. Um... Okay, I'm gonna... I'm gonna go grab some food. I'm starving," Jesse sheepishly patted her stomach.
"Yeah, there's some PowerBars in the workshop. Help yourself," Cisco suggested. He waited until Jesse was completely gone before he called Harry. "Harry? Can I just ask...what are you doing?"
Harry would not tear his gaze from the screen in front of him. "Being thorough."
"Yeah? 'Cause it seems like you're stalling…"
Harry flung his hands in the air. "Okay, fine. I'm stalling. I'm stalling! So what?"
"So what? So why?" Cisco would like to know.
"So why? Why? Why? I got to explain myself to you two? Oh, I guess I do, 'cause you're not parents. That's my daughter, okay? And she spent months on this very Earth watching Barry Allen defeat meta after meta after meta... And Zoom... And all of a sudden, bam! She's got speed, and now she wants to be a hero just like him. And I think that's a great idea. Not!"
"Harry, we can help her. We can train her just like we did with Barry," Caitlin took a much kinder approach than Cisco's sarcasm. "We've done it with Belén and Nina too. We know what we're doing."
"Yeah, except I don't want you to train her, okay?" Harry didn't know what else he needed to do to get that point across. "I brought her here for you to talk her out of it, not talk her into it, all right, Ramon? You... you should talk to her. You're a meta."
Cisco pretended to think about that crazy idea. "Yeah, which makes me the last person she should talk to about not using her powers."
"Okay, Snow... Caitlin... You and her—" Harry put his hands together like a prayer, "You've always had such a special relationship. You talk to her."
Caitlin looked at him like he was crazy. "No, we don't. And I don't know anything about having powers, so I'm the last person you should talk to, so don't ask me…" she knew she'd rambled on a bit too fast during that last sentence. She should start learning how to lie better - it was something she and Belén would need to work on together...just another thing they needed to get under control.
~ 0 ~
Belén arrived at STAR Labs and found Caitlin first in the cortex. "Where's Harry?"
Caitlin looked up from her computer and sighed. "He's probably still cooped up in the breech room trying to figure out how to keep Jesse from using her powers."
"What?" Belén was only momentary surprised but then remembered this was Harry Wells the protective Dad and brushed it off. "Whatever, I think I have a way to figure out a little more about...our situations."
Caitlin turned her chair in Belén's direction. "Like…?"
"Well, besides us and Datura, who exactly would know about Datura and Killer Frost's history?"
"I...I don't know…"
"Harry!" Belén exclaimed. "He kept tabs on the metas in his city. Granted it might not be in-depth but something is something."
"Belén, I don't know about this…" Caitlin sighed. This was a tough situation alright. She knew that unlike her, Belén wanted to understand and control these powers while Caitlin felt said powers were more of a curse. So far, Caitlin didn't know much about their powers and she didn't exactly have the support from the others since they were choosing not to say anything about it.
"I'm not revealing anything, I'm just...asking some questions," Belén tried to explain her idea so that Caitlin could see no danger of disclose would loom over them. "I can make it work as if I'm trying to understand Datura more. He has to know whose powers she owned and what exactly happened to make her...crazy. He can give me the timeline we need."
Caitlin tapped her fingers along the desk, indecision written all over her face. "I just...I don't want people to know…"
"And they won't," Belén promised her. "Worst case scenario, I'll tell him about me."
Caitlin could see that despite Belén coming to her to explain her idea...there wasn't much convincing her otherwise. "Just be cautious, please."
Belén beamed and assured her it would be alright. Unfortunately, Belén didn't have the time she needed to talk to Harry because their metahuman had finally made a true appearance.
Frankie Kane was their culprit.
Barry stared at the profile picture of Frankie on the wall screen. He, Joe and Veronica had the unpleasant task to meet her metahuman side after Julian practically forced it out of her. He nearly paid for that with his life if Barry hadn't gotten him out of the way.
"Her name's Frankie Kane, but she's calling herself Magenta," he told the others.
"Meh," Cisco crinkled his nose at the name.
"That Magenta is a whole different person than the scared, kind girl I was interviewing," Joe remarked. Magenta had an air of smug confidence that Frankie Kane was very far from.
"She's dissociative," Harry said.
"You mean split-personality?" Belén asked and gave Caitlin a discreet look of 'he knows what he's talking about' to which Caitlin inwardly sighed at.
She instead focus on the computer screens before anyone noticed. "According to her medical records, it's a condition she's been dealing with her entire life. I'm sure all the yelling at CCPD is what triggered it."
"So Frankie is Jekyll. Magenta is Hyde," Wally simplified it. "Classic good versus evil."
"Or she's pulling a "Primal Fear." She's faking it," Harry suggested.
"No, she's not faking it. I saw the struggle going on inside of her," Barry reassured them all this was a real case. "Magenta's trying to take over completely."
Belén looked down with an actual twinge of fear. It was an all too familiar fear she wished would leave her alone. Seeing it happening in someone else, a young girl like Frankie, didn't help.
"You said she was raised in the foster care system?" Caitlin asked.
"It's in her records," Veronica came over. "She's been going from home to home."
"Yeah, and maybe not good ones," Caitlin said after checking the records of Frankie's current home. "Her current foster father, John...the one who was hurt in the attack has got a few disorderly conducts."
"He might have some information we can use," Iris saw a chance to help and went over to Caitlin's side. "Belén and I can follow up with him."
Iris' smile made Belén feel terrible when she shot her down. "I can't go. I...have something else to do…"
Iris raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
"I...I just...can't," Belén quickly looked down at the floor to avoid Iris' suspicious stare.
Even Barry was wondering, at this point, what she meant. "There is...something else…" he spoke up only to keep Iris down. He had began picking up on some strange behavior from Belén after Iris had pointed it out. He was going to look into it, soon. "She got her powers from Alchemy. When I said his name, she knew who he was, so Magenta must have existed in the other timeline too."
"Who's Alchemy?" Jesse asked.
"Well," Cisco began with an overly sarcastic tone, "Doctor Alchemy is a magic man in a cloak who can somehow restore the powers that people had in Flashpoint."
"Okay, and what's Flashpoint?"
"That's what we're calling the alternate timeline that Barry created when he went back in time and saved his mom," Caitlin explained.
"Oh. So Magenta is another side-effect from your time trip. Genius," Harry spat at the speedster in question. "Not. Who knows what else you've changed!?"
"I don't need to be reminded. Thank you," Barry crossed his arms.
"Look, anybody with those powers and as angry as her needs to be tracked down," Joe said, getting them back on track. "Fast."
"Well, great. I mean, fast I can do!" Jesse exclaimed and started out. "Let me just go carb-load."
"He didn't... That's... you don't…" Harry was left calling in vain. "Snow!" the brunette flinched in her chair.
She knew exactly what he wanted and groaned. "Okay, Harry, I'll talk to her, but I don't know what I'm gonna say." She got up from her chair and went after Jesse.
"And I guess I'll go see John Kane," Iris announced, lingering a sharpened look on Belén.
I am a horrible friend, Belén thought.
"Belén?" Veronica startled her out of her thoughts. "Still okay?" she was watching her daughter for any movements but Belén knew that trick all too well.
"Just tired," she recited her lie and waved her and Joe off.
~ 0 ~
Caitlin took in a deep breath before she entered the pipeline where Jesse was finishing her snack. Jesse sheepishly smiled as she cleared the crumbs of power bars off her face.
"You guys weren't kidding when you said speedsters were hungry all the time…"
Caitlin gave a little smile, an awkward one too since she wasn't sure how this conversation was going to turn out. "Listen, Jesse, before you speed off to find Frankie, I just want to make sure that you feel like you're ready."
"Why? Is something wrong? I mean, did the test results say something?"
"No, not at all. All the test results have come back fine so far. It's just... maybe you should take it slow…"
Jesse thought about it for a second before shaking her head. "Sorry, is this how you guys treated Belén when she got her powers?" Caitlin blinked, sensing the sort of accusation Jesse was about to throw at her. "Because we're girls? We need to take it slow?"
"What? No! Not at all!" Caitlin exclaimed. "It was the opposite - she was scared-"
"Well I'm not," Jesse cut her off without intending on being rude. "I like my powers and I can use them!"
This was going downhill, thought Caitlin. "Well, I mean, I'm sure you think that it's a great thing to have powers, but sometimes, it's not so great. Trust me," Caitlin paused involuntarily as her own secret began to resurface in her mind. "I'm just saying that if I had powers, I would probably take it slow…"
Jesse sighed and got up from her seat. "My dad put you up to this, didn't he?" Caitlin opened her mouth but Jesse didn't give her the opportunity to answer. "Yeah. I mean, of course he did!"
Caitlin winced as Jesse stormed out of the pipeline. She quickly went after Jesse, but by that time the younger girl was already shouting at her father in the cortex.
"You don't want me to have this speed, do you? I mean, that's why we're here, right? Not so you could test me, but so you could get everyone to talk me out of using my powers!"
Harry briefly looked over Jesse to Caitlin - the brunette quickly lowering her head and rushing to sit beside Cisco and Wally at the desk. Harry returned his gaze to his outraged daughter still waiting to hear what he had to say. "I just want you to be…"
Jesse groaned when she recognized the same old story about to be told. "To be safe, yeah. Yeah, I know. I've heard it my entire life!"
"This is different. This is way different!"
Jesse scoffed. "Yeah, no, it is. 'Cause I'm not Barry, right?"
"Right. You're not Barry—"
Jesse didn't give him the opportunity to speak. She was tired of hearing the same excuses for everything she did. She whirled around and left the cortex. Harry helplessly watched after her but the action of actually trying to speak with her again was definitely not the right one at the moment.
Wally cleared his throat and slowly got up from his chair. "Let me...talk to her this time," he offered. Harry gestured him to get a move on it.
~ 0 ~
Despite the troubled air in STAR Labs, Belén still managed to secure Harry alone in one of the cortex's side rooms. Caitlin had distracted Cisco with something that would hopefully take at least ten minutes.
"Harry?" Belén poked her head into the side room and gave a wiggle of her fingers.
Harry wasn't exactly the talking sort, and it was even less when he was in problems with his daughter. Belén had to remember that as Harry gave only a brief wave of a hand before returning to a deep work on the computers.
Belén cleared her throat and slowly stepped into the room. "Um, I have something to ask you...it's...um, it's about my doppelganger."
Datura was a delicate topic for Harry considering the woman helped kidnap Jesse and nearly got them both killed. "What could you possibly want to do with her now?"
"You haven't heard, then?" Belén dreaded to be the one to give Harry yet another point against Barry regarding the time lines. "Datura sort of got away from me in this time line."
"WHAT!?" Harry wouldn't try to keep his voice at bay even if Belén clapped a hand over his mouth. "ALLEN! I swear to God—"
"Harry, please! It's already done! There's nothing we can do about it. I'm trying to figure out where she is right now and I need your help!"
"I want to know why the hell Allen is still allowed to walk when he so clearly can't help screwing things up!"
"Harry, I know what Datura being free means to you so if you really want her to pay for everything she did, help me out," Belén put her hands together, "Please?"
Harry shook his head knowing that he would end up helping Belén with whatever she wanted. "You need to put that boyfriend of yours in the pipeline for at least a week."
Belén cracked a small smile. "Sure."
"So, what do you need to know?"
"Datura's history." Belén bit her lip nervously. "Uh, specifically her development into, uh...an evil meta."
Harry cocked his head, his scrunching face pretty much implying he had no idea what that had to do with her search. "What do you mean?"
"I was, um, thinking that perhaps learning her true history would help me ensure things end differently the next time we meet," Belén explained and gave herself silent props for making her excuses sound legit. "What I mean is, I'd like to know what powers she's been known to have. I know a couple, of course, but I also know that she only showed a pea-sized amount of what she actually had."
"Nobody knows all the powers Datura had, Belén," Harry shrugged quickly, "I doubt even she knew."
Belén blinked at the revelation. "What?"
"The whole reason Datura's meta physiology was unstable was because she couldn't control the powers she had. She couldn't stabilize enough to switch between them and actually identify each one."
"But...but what about the people she siphoned? There has to be records about those victims—"
"I can get you the reports from my STAR Labs on her and her victims but her actual body count isn't known, neither are her powers. She kept losing some while gaining others."
Belén let out a heavy breath. This conversation wasn't going exactly where she needed it. Make do with what you have, she reminded herself. It was all she had left. "Okay, um, can I just please get whatever you have on those?"
Harry nodded. "Give me a couple hours to compose all the profiles, alright?"
"Yes, of course." Belén would have to anxiously wait to receive those profiles and get started on a proper plan for her future.
~ 0 ~
"Seriously, what the hell were you thinking? You can't just go stepping into the street like that! I mean, you got to use your head!"
Belén, Caitlin and Cisco each squirmed in their respective spots in the cortex as each of Barry's shouts carried into the room. And if it wasn't enough, Harry and Jesse were going at a similar match in the very room. Apparently, Wally had gotten the idea that he could jumpstart his 'speed powers' like Jesse had - involuntarily - done in her own world. Unfortunately, it didn't work out and Jesse had to pull him out before he got ran over by a car.
Now everyone was mad...except for the leftover trio hearing everything. In the end, both Wally and Jesse each stormed away from their shouters.
Harry immediately called upon Caitlin, who jumped in her chair at suddenly being put in the spotlight with an accusation. "What did you say to her?"
"Me?" the brunette pointed at herself.
"Yeah, you," Harry directed a finger at her face.
Caitlin got over her initial startle and scowled. "Don't blame me for this. I tried to help!" Helping was all that she tried to do lately with no success.
"Help her or help me?" Harry's demand only pushed her further into annoyance.
"Listen, Harry," Caitlin pushed herself up from her chair and slammed a hand on the desk, startling both Belén and Cisco. "Maybe the reason she's shutting you out is because you're not trying to understand what she's going through—"
"I don't need to unders—"
Caitlin was not giving him the chance to speak. "Maybe if you helped her navigate her powers rather than just assuming they'll destroy her, she'd turn to you rather than push you away!" she gave him a sharp glare before leaving herself.
"Point one, Caitlin," Belén mumbled to Cisco who 'mhmed' in response. Harry overheard her and sent the two a murderous glare which prompted them to get out of there too.
~ 0 ~
"Iris, what are you doing here?" Nina accidentally startled the focused reporter in the hospital hallway.
Iris stopped and turned sideways to see the doctor smiling at her. "I'm following up on John James...for job purposes and…" she leaned forwards and whispered, "...meta reasons."
"Ah," Nina understand and looked around the rather empty hallway. "Our street lamppost victim. He's this way," she started walking with Iris. "What's going on with him?"
"His foster daughter is the metahuman," Iris began to explain in a quiet voice since nurses were still passing by.
"Frankie Kane?" Nina recalled the girl which took Iris aback.
"You know her?"
"Not personally, but…" Nina stopped Iris for a second. Her eyes flickered around in case anyone lingered by. "I'm not supposed to disclose anything, but...she's been in here a couple times with some...weird accidents."
"What kind of accidents?" Iris crossed her arms.
"Broken bones in the arms, one time a leg," Nina shook her head. "If you asked me, it's abuse but I can't exactly prove it which is…"
"Why you haven't said anything," Iris nodded, understanding the position Nina was in.
"I can't do anything unless I have concrete proof and if the girl comes forwards. I've just reported my suspicions to the social worker but...there's not much I can do."
Iris began to wonder how that might factor into Frankie's current condition. It definitely made sense. If Frankie lived in a hostile environment, she would try to cope with it some way or another...which might have made her an easier target for Alchemy. "Wait…" she grabbed Nina's arm when a new idea suddenly entered her mind, "...maybe that's why turned into Magenta."
"Magenta?" Nina wasn't in the loop about Frankie's new identity for the moment, but Iris didn't stop to explain.
"Maybe Magenta came out as a defense mechanism! She tried to get back at John Kane for hurting her…and if she did it once - and failed - she's going to try again!" she dashed for the room the nurse in the reception room had indicated was John's.
"Can we not run? I can't run!" Nina grumbled and walked her fastest after Iris.
"Nurse!" Iris found one nurse in the room at the moment and went directly to her. "We need to get this man to a safe location!"
The nurse gave the reporter a strange look. "Why?"
But before Iris could even attempt to expalin with an excuse, they heard distinct noises of metal from outside. Nina came in with a slight short of breath and saw Iris nearing the room's window.
"What is it, Iris?"
Iris' mouth fell open at the sight outside.
"Oh my God," the nurse nearly fell back.
Magenta was back...and with a tank.
~ 0 ~
In the cortex, an alarm went off but it wasn't one that Barry recognized. "What kind of alarm is that?" he looked over to Cisco and Caitlin who were already working on the computers to see the situation.
"That's Iris' panic button," Belén came rushing into the room with Joe and Harry. "What's going on?"
"Her what?" Barry was dead confused but apparently no one else was. "What is that?"
"Her panic button. We installed them on everyone's phones!" Cisco exclaimed and looked up to Barry's confused face. "Cause we kept getting kidnapped!" he nearly shouted.
"After I could start making an actual tally mark chart counting my kidnappings, we decided it was better to be prepared," Belén looked at the others who nodded in agreement. "I still won, though."
"Yeah you did," Cisco smirked.
"We got it!" Caitlin pulled up Iris' location on the screens behind Barry. "It's...the hospital…"
"Iris said she was visiting John Kane, remember?" Belén blinked. Now she definitely felt terrible leaving Iris on her own.
"Is that...a tanker?" Joe nearly fell over seeing the security feed.
Cisco slowly rose from his chair in utter shock. "Th-th-that's a tanker, yeah."
"She's gonna kill everyone in there," Jesse was wide-eyed like the others.
"We have to go there," Barry looked over to Belén, wondering if her strange behavior would also carry over to their work.
But Belén would be damned . "Let's!"
~ 0 ~
Inside the hospital, Iris and Nina were working to get John out of there, even though the man didn't really deserve anything at this point.
"I should really be up there helping," Nina struggled to get people moving without bumping into her.
"Are you kidding me?" Iris sent her a sideways glance while pushing John's wheelchair. "Don't you even dare! Let the others take care of things."
They made it to the front doors but stopped simultaneously when they saw Frankie's figure outside. Magenta was holding her hands on either side of her, controlling the tanker moving over the hospital.
Barry sped to the hospital's roof with Belén. The two settled on their feet and gazed at the tanker coming their way.
See, super strength would be very handy right now, thought Belén. She wished Datura could have had that power siphoned somewhere…
She shook her head after realizing the implications of that. Another metahuman killed for their power was definitely not something she should be wishing for.
"There's not enough time to get everybody out of the hospital. This thing's coming down," Barry communicated with the others through the comms. "What if... What if I create a wind funnel?"
"You won't be creating enough updraft to keep that tanker up," Harry shot him down.
"No, no. Not with my arms. If I run. That could…"
"Propeller," Cisco realized. "That could work."
Harry agreed too. "Barry! Run in a figure eight fashion. You'll act like a propeller. The wind will build upon itself. It'll create the supersonic resistance we need. Could work."
"All right," Barry exchanged nods with Belén then started running in the infinity symbol trail keeping the tanker from crashing over them.
"Okay, well, that worked, but now what? He can't stop her if he's up there," Joe remarked.
"We don't need to fight her," Belén said, still staring down at Magenta. "If she's dissociative then we can get Frankie to assume control again."
"That's your plan?" she heard her mother's doubtful voice and rolled her eyes.
Belén jumped over the ledge and let tendrils of vines create a downward slide allowing her an easy landing in front of the girl. "Frankie? Frankie Kane?"
Magenta's pink eyes glowed bright in the dark and settled over Belén. "You need to leave," Magenta ordered. "I'm not allowed to hurt you."
Belén blinked pretty rapidly, confused by Magenta but took any advantage she could. "Allowed? Why not— you know what, that doesn't matter because I don't want to hurt you either. I know that you're sick, or that...someone made you sick. Let us help you. My friends can help you figure this out…"
Magenta growled under the strain of her tanker. "You need to leave!"
Belén jumped when the tanker gave a large creak on the roof. "No!" she shouted at Magenta to stop. "Magenta—ah!" she lurched forwards as she started to hear voices again.
They want us.
We want to come out!
Use the fire!
This was the worst time to get sucked into the whirlwind of voices. What was worse is that she could actually feel some of those powers forcing their way up her finger tips. "No! Leave me...alone!" Belén clutched her head, shaking it frantically as the voices continued to invade her mind.
~ 0 ~
"What is going on…?" Cisco checked the monitors and saw Belén's vitals spiking up and down. "Magenta hasn't touched her!"
Caitlin immediately took over and smacked Cisco's hands away from the computers. "It's probably her sugar levels," she said the only thing she could think of.
"What's that got to do with this right now?" Cisco frowned at the ruddy excuse.
"Blood pressure is going up, really up…" Caitlin mumbled the readings with growing concern, "Neuron activity spiking...I...Belén!" she called into the comms. "Belén!"
"If she's not getting through Magenta will let that tanker crush everyone in that hospital!" Joe was in equal frantic state since Iris was still in said hospital.
"He right," Harry slowly met Jesse. "They need all the help they can get."
Jesse was a little doubtful of her father's seriousness. After everything, it wasn't expected. "Dad…"
"You need to get out there, now."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. I know you can do it. You're more than fast enough. Now, run, Jesse," Harry encouraged her with a smile. "Run!"
Jesse smiled back and sped out of there. She met Barry while he was running on the roof. "Hey, thought you could use some extra help. I got this. You go take care of her."
Barry was happy to see her there. He let her take over and rushed down to where Belén and Magenta were.
"Go...away…" Belén said through gritted teeth but the voices were swirling like a vortex, overlapping one another.
"Azalea…" Barry wasn't sure what was happening but he started getting flashes of her earlier days when she wasn't in total control of her powers. Could it be the same thing was happening again? Had he caused that too?
"Barry, Magenta!" Harry's voice rang in his ears.
Barry took care of the priority - he supposed - but felt a little better when Belén managed to send a weak smile his way. She was coming back…
But from what? And why?
"Magenta, killing your foster father and everyone else inside that hospital isn't gonna give you what you need-" his step forwards put Magenta into a snappy mood.
"You have no idea what I need! It's not just John that I want to get rid of. I want them both gone!"
"I know you're still in there, Frankie. Don't let John destroy the good that's still inside you…."
Magenta's eyes flickered pink to dark brown, but inevitably filled with tears. "He said I was weak. That I was pathetic! He said I was a horrible person."
"He's lying," Belén managed to get a word in, simultaneously taking in a deep breath. The voices were going away, but that was an episode she definitely did not want to repeat. "He's just blaming you for all the bad things he's caused in his life. It's not your fault. This isn't because of you."
"I just want him to stop hurting me," Magenta slightly lowered her arms.
"This isn't the way. Your foster father never forgave himself for his mistakes. That's why he took them out on you. He couldn't move forward. But you can…" Barry took cautious steps towards the girl.
Magenta's pink eyes faded to brown, and remained that way, this time. She looked up at the tanker and redirected it back to its place. Seeing the immediate peril was diminishing, those inside the hospital who could leave did.
With Magenta gone, Frankie Kane sobbed her apologies.
~ 0 ~
"So no one else got hurt?" Frankie was now properly there and sitting in the cortex with the group.
"Luckily, no. You don't have to worry about that," Veronica gave the girl a little smile.
"What about John?"
"The DA's prosecuting him for what he did to you. So I think he's gonna be serving time, and he's not gonna ever be anybody's foster father again," Joe was happy to report. It definitely helped having Nina's records on file just for extra evidence of that man's abuse.
"It's just so strange being responsible for all of this and not remembering any of it," Frankie stared at her hands, the ones who apparently had control over...terrible powers.
"What do you remember about how you got your powers?" Barry asked her, in the guise of the Flash. "How this all began?"
"Um... I started having dreams, at night, of Magenta."
"Dreams?" Wally asked, and she nodded.
"They were more than dreams. It was like I was living another life or something. And then I started getting them all the time. During the day. And the more it happened, the more painful they became. Then I started hearing a voice."
"What voice?" Barry had a good idea of who that voice was, but he wanted to confirm…
"It was a man. Named Alchemy. He said he could give me what I wanted and make me powerful again. I didn't understand. I thought I was going crazy," Frankie shook her head.
"Trust me. Magenta is not here because of anything that you did. There may be a darkness inside of you, but if you face it, it'll make it easier for the good side of you to win."
Frankie took his words' meanings with shock. "You're letting me go?"
"None of this is your fault, Frankie. Caitlin found you a good home in Keystone. People that will never hurt you."
"But what if Magenta tries to come back?"
"Fight her. And if you need help, we'll be there. We have faith in you, Frankie," Barry's smile was infectious to Frankie. She thanked them all for the second opportunity she would be getting.
~ 0 ~
"Your neuron levels spiked up like crazy, Belén!" Caitlin was reading over the reports she'd stored while Belén had been out with Magenta.
Belén was now the one sitting down in her greenroom while Caitlin circled her chair. "I don't even know what that means, Dr. Snow," Belén reminded her they did not speak the same scientific language.
Caitlin leaned on one hip, not amused with the response. "Whatever happened out there, caused every single vital of yours to just go up! I barely hid it from Cisco."
"I'm sorry, I didn't...know that would happen," Belén fiddled her fingers together. "I was just talking to Frankie when...the voices started. They were like attacking me with different things."
"They were doing more than just saying stuff," Caitlin looked over the reports on her tablet. "It's like, for a brief second, they were taking ahold of you."
"I felt the powers try to force themselves out of me," Belén admitted.
Caitlin shook her head. "I knew you shouldn't have tried to use them—"
"So then what the hell am I supposed to do with them?" Belén snapped and pushed herself up from her chair. "Because the last time I was in this situation was because I didn't use my powers! They controlled me, Caitlin, remember that? I worked hard to control them and be the Azalea. I refuse to let them take me over."
Caitlin pursed her lips and stayed silent. Of course she remembered. Belén had been close to fighting even Barry off in her non-controlled state.
"I'm just trying to do things differently here," Belén crossed her arms, her anger softening as she calmed down. She wasn't angry with Caitlin, and she wasn't upset...she was just...scared. "It's happening again and I don't want it to. I don't want to lose control. I want to take control. Not using your powers works for you but it's not what I want for me."
"Okay," Caitlin sighed and passed some hair over her shoulder. "Let me...device a training plan, alright? Maybe, if we start slow, then we can take control of each power you siphoned."
"Thank you," Belén said softly and sat back down on the chair. She rubbed her forehead and somehow the fear she felt only increased as seconds ticked by.
~ 0 ~
"Hey, what's going on?" Barry walked into the precinct's desks where Joe and Julian already were. He'd gotten the call so suddenly when he was all ready to go home after such a day.
"Listen, Singh wanted me to show you guys this," Joe motioned Barry to quickly come over. His hand was hovering the clicker of the computer where a video was paused. "This happened a few days ago at Iron Heights. They tried to keep it under wraps 'cause they didn't want anybody to think there was a security issue, but check it out."
"That's Clariss," Julian said without care. "Is this why we were brought in?"
"No, this is why," Joe let the video play.
Clariss was shouting in his cell for Alchemy when all of a suddenly he was picked up and pinned at the wall. He was thrown around like a ragdoll, harshly, until he was flung one last time and hit the ground.
"Dead before he hit the ground," Joe muttered and looked up at the two wide-eyed forensics.
"Alchemy. You ever heard that name before?" Barry asked specifically for Julian just to try their luck at some new information.
"Alchemy? No, I haven't," the blonde shook his head.
"Maybe there's an invisible meta," Barry thought otherwise. Iron Heights was made specifically to cancel out any powers...so where exactly would this invisible meta come in?
"Maybe it's a ghost," Julian suggested. "Do you believe in ghosts, Allen?" Barry's flat face gave him the answer. He rolled his eyes and left the place.
"Hey, do you think this thing is part of the Flashpoint timeline too?" Joe asked once Julian was surely gone.
"I have a feeling a lot of things are these days," Barry muttered and tore his gaze from the video.
#ocappreciation#arrowverseocs#fd: the flash#the flash#barry allen#barry allen fics#barry allen imagines#barry allen x oc#the flash fics#the flash imagines#the flash x oc#arrowverse ocs#arrowverse fics#arrowverse imagines#oc: Belén Palayta#oc: Belen Palayta#fic: make you stay
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