#now we need micks book so we can see what he thought of all of them

[cruesuffix]

Mick Mars, in the eyes of Tommy Lee

[forfucksakesniall]

“Hearts on Hold” - a draft

a sequel to Car's Outside after part 4

𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Driver!Reader

Word Count: 1,692

A/N: This might be the only part for now. Not sure if I would continue it but I will be doing drabbles about it

The day you left was tough. It was a step towards your personal growth and independence. Yet, deep down, you wanted to be by his side throughout the entire winter break. Your mind was filled with conflicting thoughts.

Why did we leave? 

Because we need to rely on ourselves and not depend on others too much. 

So, does that mean our emotions stem from past issues?

No, not necessarily... maybe. I'm not really sure but that is why we're doing this.

You constantly debate whether you made the right decision or not. However, all doubts disappear when he sends you a text message. Each day, his words bring comfort and kindness. You don't respond much because thoughts of him make your mind race.

You don't intentionally ignore him, but there's a certain pleasure in having alone time, where you can fully immerse yourself in the moment. You've grown typical of being alone, and it feels like home. Some may see it as a lonely existence, but they can't grasp the experience of being solely on yourself.

You found yourself in the Czech Republic, a land rich in history and culture. It's a place that fosters personal growth and development. With its stunning architecture, like the iconic Prague Castle, and its vibrant arts scene. You felt like a princess, wandering through the city in search of love or simply a new adventure. 

As you sat at a charming café, savoring your evening coffee and engrossed in a book, it provided a familiar and comforting feeling.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed, breaking the tranquil atmosphere. You glanced down to see one of many of Lewis' daily text messages.

A day ago, 5:06 PM:

Lew

Good morning! You better manage to squeeze in some workouts today, haha. They already miss you - my niece and nephew. I miss you too, but you already knew that...

Yesterday, 5:44 PM:

Lew

Hey, just checking in to see if you're doing alright. Text me when you can. I miss you. I'll see you soon.

Today, 5:04 PM:

Lew

Still missing you, and Roscoe was looking for you.

Today, 5:10 PM:

Lew

Coachella was absolutely wild! Wish you were here. They kept asking if you were coming. I told them you were off doing something way more exciting. Maybe you'll join me next year, haha.

He persisted in texting you, as he could see that you had received and read his messages. Gosh, he deserves someone better, you thought, prompting you to finally respond.

You

Hey Lewis, sorry for not replying earlier. I'm actually doing really well. Sometimes, I do get a little lost, but that's what makes the adventure exciting, right? I won't tell my current location, haha. I hope I don't run into you here, following me around. I'll see you when I return to Monaco.

You reread the messages you sent, caught up in overthinking the entire situation. Just as you finish, he responds.

Lew

I'll see you back at home.

That familiar, tingling, warm feeling rushes back. You suddenly blush, feeling slightly embarrassed by your public display of emotions.

"Ughhh," you mutter to yourself.

Feeling compelled, you text him once again.

You

I miss you too

You quickly type and send it before locking your phone and slamming it onto the table. Frustrated with yourself, you feel like a silly schoolgirl texting her crush.

Lost in your embarrassment, you're suddenly interrupted as someone taps your shoulder. Your heart starts pounding, echoing in your ears.

You slowly turn around and find yourself face-to-face with none other than Mick Schumacher.

"Mick! W-what brings you here?" you stammer, taken aback by his sudden appearance. You were seated outside a café, with only a wooden fence separating you from the bustling street. Somehow, he still noticed you sitting there while riding his bike.

"Oh, umm... I was giving my friends a tour around Europe, and then I saw you sitting here... I should ask what you're up to," he explains a hint of curiosity in his voice.

You giggle, finding him endearingly cute. You and Mick are friends, or at least colleagues working for the same team. You often have chats and occasionally hang out after training, but you wouldn't say you're incredibly close.

"Yeah, well, it's a long story. In short, I'm on a little adventure for myself, taking a break from everything and just trying to relax. It's really nice to see a familiar face," you reply, feeling a sense of comfort.

"I know, right? Who would have thought?" he responds, sharing your amusement.

"Right?" you giggle in response.

"I should get going. It's great to see you again. I'll catch you at the factory then?" he suggests.

"Yeah, definitely!" you affirm with a smile.

He waves goodbye and starts pedaling away, leaving you with a mix of excitement and warmth in your heart.

✧*̥˚ Timeskip *̥˚✧

Weeks had passed, and it felt like an eternity. Finally, you arrived in Monaco, your home. You had managed to keep a low profile at the airport, although a few people still recognized you. The gossip pages had already spread the word about your return. You had considered texting Lewis, but it seemed unnecessary now that the Instagram gossip pages had made the announcement.

Now, you were in your cozy apartment, a place you called home. It felt warm and comforting, and it was all yours.

During your soul-searching journey, you had disabled all the apps that connected you to the outside world - Instagram, Twitter, emails, and more. Now, you decided to open them again, and your phone buzzed incessantly with notifications. Choosing to mute it, you placed it under your pillow.

"Some people sure missed me," you tell to yourself, looking around the house to find your laptop. It was exactly where you had left it, in the living room.

You opened your emails on the laptop instead and saw several team-related messages about an upcoming meeting. You stared at them for a while, realizing it was time to return to work and face reality.

A tinge of sadness and nervousness crept over you, but you pushed any negative thoughts aside. You didn't want to dwell on the idea that they might not want you or anything pessimistic. It was time to move forward.

A knock interrupts your thoughts, causing a small jolt of surprise.

"Why do people keep scaring me?" you mutter to yourself.

The knocking persists, growing slightly louder.

"I'm coming!" you call out.

Excitement builds within you as you jog to the door, eagerly unlocking and swinging it open without hesitation.

"Hey,"

"Hey..." you respond, your tone revealing a lack of enthusiasm.

"Well, that sounds like you weren't happy to see me," the coach remarks.

"Because I wasn't," you reply, adding a touch of sarcasm to your voice.

He was your performance coach, and truthfully, you were never thrilled to see him. His presence meant returning to rigorous training. You had been working together for a year now, and while there was still a connection, you had been avoiding it since last year due to past issues. 

However, you had undergone a transformation and were now a different person.

"Are you ready to get back out there?" the coach asks.

You gaze at him, newfound determination shining in your eyes.

"Hell yeah," you declare, a wide grin spreading across your face.

Throughout the day, you engaged in scheduling and planning, a common practice among Formula 1 drivers and their performance coaches. You both discussed training sessions, physical workouts, and practice sessions to optimize performance on and off the track. 

Despite feeling exhausted from the earlier flight, the overwhelming flood of missed notifications, and the planning for upcoming races, your determination remained steady.

As the evening grew late, the coach suggested that both of you grab a meal together. You ventured out and decided to go to "La Marée," a renowned eatery in Monaco. 

Stepping out of the car, a swarm of people immediately surrounded you. Cameras flashed, videos recorded, and requests for autographs came from all directions. It was the familiar scene you had missed—the support and admiration from the fans, which warmed your heart. With a wave of gratitude, you bid them farewell and entered the restaurant.

And there he was once more, Mick Schumacher, but this time accompanied by Toto and Susie Wolff. You greeted them warmly and approached closer.

"You've got to stop following me, man. It's becoming quite obvious," you playfully remarked to Mick.

"I could say the same to you!" Mick replied with a grin.

"Well, well, it seems like you two have been keeping tabs on each other," Toto chimed in, joining the conversation.

"Yeah, it certainly seems that way," you said, winking at Mick as he reciprocated. "So, are you guys heading out or...?" you inquired, curious about their plans.

"Yeah, we were just discussing... contracts," Mick added.

Contracts? Already? Why haven't they mentioned anything to me... you wondered, feeling a bit surprised.

Toto's hand gently squeezed your shoulder. "If you checked your emails once in a while, you would have known about yours already," he reassured you.

A sigh of relief escaped you. Thank goodness for that, you thought, realizing you had left your phone under your pillow and hadn't retrieved it before leaving with your coach.

"I had such a great vacation that it completely slipped my mind," you laughed awkwardly.

"We'll be expecting to see you at the factory, alright? We need everyone there," Toto emphasized the importance of your presence.

Then it hit you—Lewis. Where was he? You still haven't texted him.

After conversing for a while, you and your coach went to eat.

You enjoyed a pleasant dinner together before finally parting after arriving at your apartment.

Waving him goodbye, you made your way upstairs to your apartment. As you opened the door, you noticed that the living room was illuminated. Have you forgotten to turn off the lights? Perhaps your coach had left them on.

As you approached to switch off the lights, you froze. There, laying on your couch, was someone unexpected.

It was Lewis.

Lewis Hamilton had fallen asleep, patiently waiting for your return home.

[popodoki]

Hey, teacher, a Catwin motorcycle au epilogue

also known as me following up the smut with absolute sfw schmoop, and not even tying up a single loose tie, even. Instead, I offer you this x

Thomas is reading a London travel guide. The other book, that Edwin had seen him leaf through the previous evening, sits on the nightstand, open. From his position on the bed, most of his body actually sprawled across Thomas, with his head cushioned on the soft spread of skin between chest and lower stomach, Edwin can see a two-page map of the London underground. When he tilts his head up, he sees the back of the London travel guide.  

“Anything interesting?” He manages to whisper, swallowing back the slightest twinge of pain the words still bring with them. 

Edwin would be more embarrassed, his throat so sore his voice creaks out of him, like he’s taken up smoking with an avid need to make up for all the years of abstinence, if it hadn’t been so helpful earlier, when he phoned into work. Mick, part of the school administration staff, had listened to just two lines of Edwin calling in sick, before he ordered him to take an extra day, and get his ass back in bed.  

The fingers curled around the guide-book drop lower, bringing Thomas’s smiling face into view. “Did you know,” he starts, while one hand presses the book down to his chest, and his other takes advantage of the space to reach for a glass of water on the nightstand, that he offers to Edwin while he continues, “that the Tower Bridge is apparently haunted? For years, visitors have claimed sightings of a British police bobby patrolling the bridge, and a woman in black roaming the night.” Thomas goes on, affecting a faux serious tone, leaning in with such gravitas, that Edwin smiles so widely around the glass perched on his lip, he nearly spills. 

“Utter tripe.” He mutters back, still smiling. 

“What? You’re not the least bit curious? Don’t want to investigate?” Thomas teases, wrapping an arm around Edwin’s waist as soon as the glass is safely placed aside, pulling him in and leaning his head down slow enough for Edwin to turn his face, dodge the kiss, should he want.  

“We could go for a stroll, I suppose. Do the rumours define what constitutes as ‘night’, for the woman in black to be strutting about? Should we bring flashlights?” Edwin drops his chin on the other’s chest, as he indulges him, indulges them both. He waits, with a soft smile on his face that he can’t keep back, as his lover hums in deep thought. 

“We might as well find a place close by, babe. We’re going to need more than one stroll, might have to walk across and around the area a good number of times. This sort of thing requires commitment.” 

Edwin leafs through the London photography book. Pages turn, until he reaches the area in question, at which point he places his thumbs on either side of the open book, lets himself fall back into Thomas’s chest. The other man shifts the guide from his chest as Edwin nears, making place for Edwin’s head, and together they move on the bed until they’ve slotted together, in the perfect position to view the book Edwin now holds up for them both to see.  

“Which side of the bridge, then? We need to think this through.” Edwin mumbles, more to himself than to the other, though he keeps his words audible enough, for the other to hear. He feels Thomas dip his head, kiss him softly behind his ear. A nose nuzzles into Edwin’s hair, still slightly damp from their earlier shower.  

“As far as I’m concerned, Ghostie, we have all the time in the world.” 

Edwin hums his assent, thumb gently swiping over the various photos of Potters Field Park, looking at the streets around the bridge, the nearest schools, thinking of checking up on traffic laws, possible necessary licensing for the motorcycle. All the things one should consider, really. 

This sort of thing requires commitment. 

[russellsppttemplates]

Rora having separation anxiety after mick starts working again

Note: mentions separation anxiety moments (not detailed nor defining of a situation as this is something that I hold so much respect and feel a certain responsibility over)

Aurora had been usually quiet after Mick left that morning, her teacher noticing that and telling you when you went to pick her up from school, "My husband had to travel for the race, the season just begun, that's probably it. But thank you for letting me know", you smiled as you saw your little girl come to you, her arms hugging your legs before you ruffle her curls, "Hi, Aurora, how was your day?", you asked one you started walking to the car, "it was good. Have you talked to papa?", she asked, "I haven't, he said he arrived at the hotel and that he was heading for a meeting, but he texted me that", earning a "oh" from her as she sunk back into her car seat.

Since Sebastian was already home with Corinna, who had offered to pick him up from nursery, you let Aurora into the house while you gathered her your things from the day, taking them out of the car and heading inside as well, seeing that Corinna already had some snacks ready for them, "Hi mama, how was your day?", Sebastian asked as soon as he saw you, munching in his biscuit as you kissed the top of his head, "it was good, thanks Seb. And you, did you behave well for Oma?", you said before you greeted Corinna, seeing your little boy nod while Aurora ate her food quietly, "Mama, can we call papa? Oma said she hasn't talked to him either", she said in such a small voice that your heart ached for her, "sure, let me check with him if I can call, okay?", you said as you texted your husband.

The videocall helped you bring Aurora back, the cheery girl now holding the phone in front of her and Sebastian as they told Mick about their day, "I think Rora is really missing Mick, I feel like she's at the age where she understands the risks and how long he is actually away for", you shared with Corinna, "Mick and Gina were the same when they were their age, they start noticing that papa is not here, but at the end of the say these moments make them so happy, so you can get by. If you need any help, though, let us know".

Corinna had stayed for dinner but left just before bed time, which was easier that you had expected, leaving you now to sit in your bed, book in hand as you caught up in your novel when you heard some tiny footsteps and Angie, "Mama, can I come in, please?", Aurora said quietly as she opened the bedroom door, "sure, princess, is everything okay?", you asked, setting your book down on the bedside table as she climbed up the bed and sat next to you, "Do you think papa is going to be okay? The cars he drives are very fast, and then he has to make his way home, all the way from where he is", she said, voicing the worries she had since Mick left, "how long have you thought about that, Aurora?", you said gently as you held her hands in yours, "Papa was here still, and I know how sometimes they hit the wall, or how he sometimes complains about his neck and back", she listed, "well, princess, it is true that sometimes accidents happen on track. But it is also true that the cars are safe, there are a lot of people working on them to make sure all of the drivers, and papa included, are safe when they drive. And papa has been doing it for years too, he knows what he is doing", you smoothed her curls away from her eyes.

"Do you ever get scared?", she asked, and you thought about it. How kids mirror adults' behaviours and how you were a role for her and how she could feel about things in the world she didn't know about yet, "sometimes I do, I'm not going to lie to you. But you know how I stay calm about it?", you asked as she shook her head no, "I trust papa, I trust everyone on the team that works in the car. And whenever I have doubts or fears, I talk to someone. It was very brave of you to come and talk to me, Aurora. I'm very proud that you did it", you smiled, encouraging her to flash you one of hers, "I sometimes have this heavy feeling on my chest when I think about this, and it's not nice", she explained, "that would be fear maybe? You remember that purple guy on the movie we watched?", you offered and she nodded before speaking up, "in the movie they said it was okay to feel fear sometimes, it's normal".

Smiling at your clever girl, you reassured her, "it is, and whenever I feel that fear, I try to imagine what I want to do with papa when he comes back from his race", you offered, "what would you like to do?", you asked, "we can go and get those tiny cakes me and Sebastian like, go on walks with Angie, go and visit you at work!", she squealed as she got distracted by Mick's side of the bed, "can I sleep with you here today?", she wondered, "sure, princess", you smiled, "there's plenty of room for us, and if Sebastian joins us at some point, we all fit here anyway", you said before pressing a kiss to the top of her head, "thank you mama, goodnight".

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

[inriospocket]

ugh daisy!! i hope you’re doing well love. i know requests are closed but i thought of this shit while i was walking back from the train in the city and i started chuckling in my head. the idea of the reader dragging rio to couples therapy/marriage counseling because she has been hassling him about it for a min because he’s always away and he’s juss like im not doin that shit so the reader tricks him into going by saying she has an appointment nonchantly on the way back home... (1/?)

(2/2) and when he finds out what the deal is while he’s sitting there he’s not having it. legit he’s like “why tf did you bring me here?” “see this is what i’m talking about.” Agahahah. his s/o is just rambling on about a bunch of tangz he’s been doing as of late/been an issue in their relationship and he’s just like “that’s not me. iunno do that.” with his lip all twitched up in disbelief that is happening and that she’s airing out their dirty laundry...

---

Again, sorry this is so late but I hope you enjoy it anyway! :)

One session

word count ♡ 1,042

summary ♡ Your marriage with Rio is struggling and you push the idea of marriage counseling.

situation ♡ angsty

---

Your chest was heavy as you stood bent; your hands on your knees to catch your breath after your run. You used to hate running but after a while, it felt like you were finally able to run from your problems. 

At least just around the neighborhood for a while. Not to mention the high it gave you. The high that reminded you of what it felt like to be with Rio for the first time.  

Now, every day you wondered if you’d ever get it back.  

You found yourself feeling the bed for him, or looking out the window to see if his car was still there but soon, you got used to just being merely a roommate rather than his wife.  

“I think we should go to therapy together.” You brought up one day as you caught him before leaving out like usual. He stopped in his tracks, thinking for a moment until he went back to grabbing his stuff.  

“I don’t need nobody telling me how to run my marriage.” He said, shutting it down quickly.  

You sunk into your cardigan, gripping the knitted material as you grew upset.  

“Run?” You huffed. “Like this was some sort of business arrangement?”  

“Y/N, I’m not doing it.” He said for the last time and closed the door behind him.  

You felt nauseous when he said your name. Where was the mama? The sweethearts, the darlings, the baby girls? You wore this gigantic rock on your finger but it’s like you were married to a stranger.  

You started to question if he really loved you anymore and that was the last straw for you. Could there have been someone else?  

No, you couldn’t think like that.  

But what you could do was book an appointment because whatever the hell was going on, you were going to figure it out the most logical and reasonable way, at least you hoped. You were slowly chipping away, and you needed someone to listen.  

You texted him later in the day to see if he would drop you at your “appointment” because your car “broke down”. Of course, he tried to get Mick to do it, but you insisted he did it and eventually he gave in.  

Rio wasn’t an idiot though because once he pulled up to a completely different building than your usual provider’s, he figured it out.  

“No.” he said, keeping his foot on the brake and refusing to park.  

“One session, please,” You looked at him with desperation. “Just one.”  

He wasn’t doing it for you, you suddenly thought. He was doing it to prove you right that it would be a waste of his time and-  

“I just don’t know when we became at odds with each other.” You sat across from your counselor uncomfortably.  

Julie immediately noticed Rio’s apathetic, condescending stance. He clearly didn’t want to be sitting there.  

“Can you elaborate on that?” Julie asked, her warm eyes looking into yours. A small gesture feeling infinite after everything you’ve been carrying.  

“He’s just always gone, and doesn’t care to listen and,” You sighed, almost feeling defeated.  

“Okay, let’s try rephrasing that. Instead of saying he doesn’t care to listen, let’s say ‘I don’t feel like I’m being listened to.’ We’re going to be focusing on individual responses and then we can come together. Does that make sense?” Julie explained.  

You took a deep breath as Rio irritated a sigh. “I feel alone, like a stranger to him. I feel like there’s something missing, and I want to be listened to because how I feel should be important.”  

Before Julie could get a word in, Rio gave his input. “I'm so sorry you don’t think I listen.” he said, condescendingly.  

“Don’t you dare make me feel crazy.” You said, your ears burning as you saw his cool stare.  

“See this is the shit I be talkin’ about.” He shook his head. 

Again, before Julie could interject, you decided fuck it to keeping your cool. Rio knew he was in for a treat when you casually started to laugh.  

“When you were fucking dirt broke, who had you even though I was piled in debt? Huh? When your brother let you go to jail, who put money on your books and drove 2 hours after my night shifts to make sure you were good?”  

“Cousin.” He had to correct, and you were a pinch close to losing it.  

 “I am the first person you call when something goes wrong regardless of what it is, and I got you and you continue to gaslight me and patronize me. I won’t condemn you, Christopher because I never have to worry about money and these lavish things but it’s all material,” You hesitated after you said that hoping Julie would take over, but she knew somehow you needed this.  

“All I wanted was you and you want something, or I guess someone else,” You pressed your eyes shut hoping it couldn’t be true, but your intuition is a hell of a feeling. You felt the old you, the vulnerable young girl, knowing the only thing she could trust is herself. 

Rio’s expressions turned into guilt once he felt the pain radiating.  

“You’re never home anymore. You don’t touch me. Why does it always have to come down to this?” You broke down.  

“It was one time.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his hand under his chin.  

You bit your lip to fight back the rest of your tears. “Thanks for your time.” You told Julie and walked out.  

You walked back to the car, wanting to throw up as he called your name again.  

Rio knew he fucked up but not like this. A part of him was in denial about what could have happened next.  

“Look at me, mama.” He said and it felt so foreign to you. You looked up at him, and he knew in that moment you would never in a million years look at him the same.  

Looking at him, you knew; your intuition was telling you.  

“The craziest thing is, Rio, I know you wouldn’t do it again,” You chuckled through your pain.  

“It’s just never going to be enough of a reason for me to stay.”          

[paisholotus]

Chapter 3

January 9th, 1996. New York City

Solana’s Pov

Jack, Reggie, and I were playing basketball, but I had to sit down because, let's face it, I'm not very good at basketball. I was watching Jack and Reggie play, and Reggie was winning thus far.

 

Through Jack, I got to know Reggie, and he's a really nice man. Here in Manhattan, he facilitates a support group for adults and young people who have previously used drugs. I kept sipping from my bottle while I watched them.

 

Today was unbearably hot. The weather in New York is literally bipolar all the time. This evening, watch it get cold as hell. I was distracted from my thoughts by this agitating, grating voice. I scowled as I gazed in that direction.

 

"Yo, Jack! What's the score? Come on. We got to go." A boy no other than, Mickey. A great pain in my ass. I glared at him as he smirked at me, drinking beer with his friends. I swear, I don't see what Jack sees in them. Nothing but bad influences. 

 

 

"They don't keep score in this game." Pedro said. Pedro is not bad, but he likes to steal and hang around druggies. "Jack, come on. We're losing the sun." Mickey yelled again. That boy had some serious anger issues; you could tell he wanted to be a wannabe badass so bad. Jack continued to ignore them and play ball with Reggie.

 

"He's being a dick. You want me to put a charge in his ass?" Mickey said, finally glaring at me back. He knows I don't like his ass. Which is why he doesn't like me—not solely because I don't like him, but because I tell Jack he needs to stop being friends with him.

 

Why can't they just leave Jack alone? It's not that serious. I rolled my eyes and picked up my book, seeing them smirk at me. I gagged at them, making smooches at me. Straight-up women repellant is what they are.

 

"Watch this." Mickey said. I looked at him suspiciously and glared as he picked up Jack's notebook.

 

"Oh, look it, right here...Jack's secret diary he's always writing in." I frowned and got irritated. There's only three people that's allowed to look in his diary. And that's me, his sister, and himself. Why were they being such dicks right now?

 

"Bet you, he wrote some shit about me." I grew angrier by the second. Jack needs some more friends. Who aren't assholes!

 

"Oh, right here." The boy said it, chuckling. I stood up, crossing my arms, watching them.

 

"Spring... Mickey." He paused and smirked at me.

 

"OH WAIT! There's one about Solana wtf face." Pedro said, pointing his thumb at me. WHO?! Oh, nah, because WHO TF ARE YOU TALKING TOO!? I put my book down standing up and began walking towards them.

 

"Hey, there I am, Jack says," Mickey reads on the page. "HEY!" I yelled. I now ran toward them. They snickered at me. Oh, I was going to give them something to kekeke at. He continued to read more of the diary, causing me to run faster. "My summer time, Lana." "My summer time Lana comes every summer with golden brown eyes and short, curly hair. How did I get a girl like you? A girl who's smart, pretty, and true. A girl that I can hold tight."

 

"A girl that is just right'-" I tried to snatch the book, but he held it over my head while his dumbass friends just laughed. Like, something was funny.

 

Mickey continued to read, which caused my blood to boil more: "A girl that can make my sun rise, and my sun set. A girl who is nice and wise. A girl that I will never forget." I was trying my best not to slap this bitch. 

 

I could hear Jack yelling at him to put the book down. Mickey bent down and waved the book in my face mockingly. I smirked and kicked him in the balls, having him drop the book and crouch down in pain.

 

I grabbed the book and looked at his friends to see what they were going to do. "I'M GOING TO FUCKING GET YOU! YOU BLACK-" "GO AHEAD AND FINISH THAT SENTENCE, SO I CAN KICK YOUR WHITE ASS!" I yelled, back at him. He seethed, looking at me. He tried to attack me, but Jack ran in front of me. "CHILL OUT, MICK! THAT SHIT IS NOT COOL, MAN!" Jack yelled at him.

 

Jack looked at me, checking to see if I was alright and taking the book from me. "What is that shit?" Mick aggressively asked. Slowly getting up, glaring back at me.

 

"Why do you have to be such a schmuck, Mickey?" Jack said, glaring down at his "friend." 

 

This is why I couldn't stand his friends. But I mostly couldn't stand Mickey, that bitch always running his mouth. Always trying to bully somebody. But I ain't never been a person you could bully. You gon end up getting fucked up trying to "bully" me.

 

"Don't you ever touch that again. It's private." Jack says to Mickey. He looks taken back but raises his hands and says, "I'm... I'm sorry." He says to Jack, who only nods. Then he looks back at me and smirks, "I'll make sure I see you next time." I scoffed and nodded. "Yeah, you can get this work anytime. BITCH!"

 

His smirk fell, and he glared at me once more. "BITCH?" He repeated what I said. "BITCH!" I said again, "You just keep running that pretty mouth. It'll be wrapped around my dick soon." He said, causing the two boys to laugh. Jack got back in front of me, glaring at Mickey, and told him to watch it.

 

"KEEP TALKING I'LL CUT THAT MF OFF! AIN'T NOBODY SCARED OF YOUR OSCAR THE GROUCH LOOKING ASS!" I yelled. The two boys choked on spit, trying not to laugh, including Jack, who pulled me away from the boys. He walked me back towards Reggie.

 

"You need new fucking friends! I'm personally sick of that walking human trash bag you hang around. Talking bout some.." I paused, glaring at them leaving, feeling myself get angry all over again.

 

"Wouldn't touch his ass with a 24 foot poll. Let alone put my mouth on him." I mumbled, looking at Jack trying to hold his laugh in. "I would rather drag my bare ass on the hot cement than touch him."

 

He busted out laughing, but I continued to frown at him because it wasn't funny. He finally calmed down and held on to my shoulders.

 

"Hey, it's okay; don't get all worked up because of him. But, thank you for sticking up for me." He said softly, looking into my eyes.

 

I smacked my teeth but smiled, feeling myself blush. "You don't have to thank me for that." 

 

He pulled me into a hug, and I instantly hugged back. I put my head on his chest and smiled. He pulled away, a light color of red dusted across his cheeks. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, and smiled.

 

"I'll call you when I get home, okay?" He said, as I nodded. He looked at me one last time before waving at Reggie and running away. 

 

I shook my head and walked towards a smiling Reggie. I playfully rolled my eyes and waved him off, laughing.

[myloveforhergoeson]

That's All She Wrote - Chapter 19

Chapter Index

Find me on wattpad + ao3!

Show: Big Time Rush

Pairing: James Diamond x Original Female Character

Chapter 19: No Sleep Till Brooklyn ~ 11k

Jo and Camille,

You’ll never believe who took my phone the first day of tour and refuses to give it back because “I have more important things to be focused on right now.”

I KNOW HE CHANGED MY LIFE BUT SOMETIMES I HATE GUSTAVO ROCQUE. And I’d never say I hate Kelly, but I am upset she let him do that… SOS!

Thanks to my expert negotiation skills, I’m allowed one call to my Dad per week - like this is some kind of prison or something - so I’m going to do my best to write letters to both of you in order to keep you updated.

While it took a long time for Gustavo, Kelly, and I to map out this tour path, I didn’t think about what it would mean to be crammed on a handful of buses with both the band and our musical accompaniment. Our lovely producer and talent scout get to take flights and stay in five-star hotels, but I’m okay to travel by bus. I’ve only been to Minnesota, Wisconsin, and California, so I’m excited to see the country this way. First stop - Orlando! In three days!

We booked three buses, one for the musical accompaniment (technically I’m one of them I suppose, but the boys say they hate road trips with Logan, so I just snuck onto the bus he’s on to keep him company), and two for the band. Each one has three tiny bunks, some couches, a full bathroom, most of a kitchen, and plenty of cabinet space for snacks, games, and anything we could possibly need. For now, I’m writing from the couch, sitting next to a napping Logan, and Carlos is up front making friends with the driver, Henrietta. The other bus is currently transporting Kendall and James.

Speaking of, after Gustavo told us the tour was back on after the concert when I came running to you two to tell you what had happened, James practically ran straight to 2-J to pack and hasn’t spoken to me since. I thought I had done everything right but I guess maybe he wasn’t actually into me after all. Maybe just the thrill of surviving a kidnapping?

“I lived through this so now I can kiss Roxy!”

Blegh.

Though, I suppose it might be a good thing… After thinking about it while I was packing I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship right now, if that’s even something he’s interested in. Sure, I like him, but I think I still need some time to get over what Dak did to me. As much as I don’t enjoy thinking about it, they bare many similarities and that scares me a bit more than I’d like to admit.

Pop stars

Can be self-absorbed

‘Cuda extra strength hairspray

Pretty

I should probably quit while I’m ahead, but I guess I’m gonna learn my lesson if I keep playing with fire and then promptly getting burned.

All my love,

Roxy

***

Hey,

It was so humid in Orlando that it took me an extra hour to fix my hair before the show, but other than that, we had a lot of fun! I’m really proud of the show we put together and getting to perform for a new crowd all the way across the country was so surreal. There are people who know all the words to my songs, more than willing to scream them right in my face… If only that pesky boy band wasn’t in the way.

Just kidding!

Today, we’re heading to Mansfield, Massachusetts - one whole day on the bus and a show tomorrow. I’d look up some facts about the town to share but, you know, no phone or whatever. Warden Rocque hasn’t changed his mind even after the combination of pleading from the five of us…

Before the show in Orlando, I got to talk with the guys in the musical accompaniment band a bit more, they were super nice! Mick, the bass player, is pretty quiet and mostly hangs out with Gustavo and Kelly since they’re old friends, but Austin, the drummer, is our age and easy to get along with! He goes to a performance arts high school in Los Angeles called Hollywood Arts (Can you believe that’s a real thing?! A whole school just for acting, singing, and growing musical talent?!)

Austin and I have somewhat similar music taste, and his father taught him how to play the drums, just like my dad taught me how to play the guitar! We’re alike in many ways, and since 1/4 of Big Time Rush wants to ignore me right now, I think I’ll be spending more time with him…

It’s bad that I thought James might kiss me again at the show last night, right? I stood in the same spot side-stage, putting on the same lipstick and everything, but he and the band just ran past me on the way to the other side of the venue. I wonder if he told them what happened; everyone else is being normal to me.

Logan says he misses you so much, Camille! Quickly followed by a panicked statement, “Not that I don’t care about Jo, it’s just different!” Kendall joined us on the bus today, swapping out with Carlos, and said, “Tell Jo I vow to get my phone back so I can call her again,” and when I asked him why he didn’t write you letters too, he claimed that stamps were too expensive. Perhaps your boyfriend is both illiterate and broke, Jo, and for that I’m sorry.

See you soon, even if soon isn’t soon enough,

Roxy

***

Thought of you both today, and it made me so happy,

We just arrived in Agawam, Massachusetts, which is only two hours away from Mansfield, so we had a quick show turnaround for the day.

I never knew going on tour was so exhausting, it’s like I’m constantly running around the venues, checking our equipment, making sure the proper snacks are in the band’s green rooms, or seeing if the stage crew needs any help. We have two big eighteen-wheelers to carry all of our stage equipment… I can’t imagine being in charge of all that stuff - the stage manager is a saint!

This morning, Gustavo dragged us out of the bus around 6 am to get to a local radio station so the band could promote their show tonight live on the air. They even gave a pair of tickets away to a fan, it was so fun to watch and reminded me a bit of my radio days. I might call my old boss and ask her if BTR can get on Project Pop when we finish our tour in Duluth.

While the band was working out with our athletic trainer to keep in shape for the show this evening, I hung out with Austin a bit more. He was nice enough to show me his drum kit and I think I’m going to ask him to teach me how to play if we have some free time. It looks a lot more fun than the piano, plus I get to hit things. Drums are a crucial part of instrumental songwriting, and I could really use the knowledge of a seasoned drummer to help me learn.

James saw us together today when he made his way to the stage to warm up for the show, and I might be overexaggerating but I think he was a bit put off by it. I thought about talking to him about it, not that I need to ask if it's okay or justify who I hang out with, but I actually think he and Austin would get along really well if he could stand to be in the same room as me for more than 5 minutes.

I think it should be illegal to kiss someone and then promptly ignore them. What if I wanted to kiss him again? And again? And again?

Anyway, I wish mail traveled fast enough that you two could send me replies and I’d be guaranteed to get them at the next venue. It feels a bit like I’m writing to a brick wall here, but it certainly keeps me occupied during our very rare downtime. The couch on this bus has become my unspoken spot (the bunks are too narrow and small for me to feel comfortable in them) and I need to do more than just sleep here, listen to my iPod, or write/play my guitar.

Until the next letter,

Rox

***

Hello!

Too many things happened today for me to record before the show, I’m writing you two a nice list as we drive away to our next stop.

James rode the bus with Logan and me today (a two-hour ride to Saratoga Springs, New York) and the two of them ignored me almost the entire time and just played their stupid video game on the TV. All I got was a “Hey, Rox, can we use the couch?” and some semblance of a thank you when I told him yes. Ugh. Is “Hey, Rox, remember when I kissed you last week? Wasn’t that so awesome? Wanna do it again?” too much for him now? It feels like I sucked all of his fun, flirty, carefree attitude straight out of his body.

I asked Austin if he could teach me how to play the drums and he said yes, as long as I helped him write a song for a fun summer project. Apparently, a good chunk of the kids at his school are songwriters too, how neat! If they write something like a short scene of a play, a song, or a musical composition and present it in the first few weeks of school, they get extra course credit. I wish the Palm Woods school had something like that - I’d be rocking straight A’s the entire year.

It was finally time for me to call my dad today, as per Warden Rocque’s direction, and he’s doing okay. Nothing ever changes with him, so I’m pretty at ease as we travel. Kelly let me put him on the guest list for the Duluth show, and even though I know he won’t really like our music, I think he’ll admire the production. He always wanted to tour around the country, and I hope showing him some backstage magic can help satisfy the teenage rocker he used to be. Maybe it’ll be a good time for him to meet Kendall, Logan, and Carlos too!

The band was recognized in public for the first time today while we were waiting in line for coffee! I’m not sure if the girl posted the photo I happily took of her and the boys to ScuttleButter, but I hope you two can find it so you can see their dazzling, shocked smiles. They were beyond ecstatic; Carlos spilled most of his drink from how hard his hands were shaking with adrenaline. Good thing he wasn’t wearing his concert outfit or Gustavo would’ve thrown a fit.

I was hoping to sneak away and take a train to New York City since we got here so early in the morning, but that is what happened instead. We’re playing Madison Square Garden near the end of the tour, so I’ll see the city then, but I’m worried I’ll be too tired and burnt out to enjoy it.

Warm wishes,

Roxy

***

Friends,

Sorry for the lack of letters these past few days! We’ve been so busy getting from New York to Oklahoma, we haven’t stopped anywhere with a mailbox I could easily find. You know what would make it easier for me to find a post office? Having my phone.

I’ve probably complained about that enough, right?

Over the course of this particular trip, I’ve been traveling with Logan and Carlos and I’m beginning to understand why the boys claim road trips with Logan are tough. He has a pretty strict expectation for cleanliness, which Carlos and I do not adhere to at all - but in helping clean up and placing things in their bunks to help put a rest to Logan’s anxiety this afternoon, I learned he has a picture of you, Camille, tapped to the top of his bunk. It’s been pretty well hidden by the curtain he keeps drawn, but I caught a glimpse of it this afternoon. So romantic!!! I imagine Kendall has something similar of you, Jo, but I’ll have to wait until he’s back in rotation with us to double-check.

I wonder if it’s exhausting for the other three to keep moving around, or if they prefer it that way. For me, I like knowing that Bus 1 is my bus… Having to haul all my stuff from one bus to another feels like an excellent way to lose some of my things.

Do you think if James and I were together he’d have a picture of me in his bunk? The thought of him falling asleep to dreams of me… Seems impossible. And exhausting to work for. If he’s going to be all hot and cold like this, I’m not sure I’d be able to take it, but on the other hand, it’s not like I’m communicating with him either because whenever I even try to bring up anything related to us at all, I freeze up and all the thoughts exit my brain before I can get a word out. Maybe we are made for each other after all since neither of us seems to want to get a word out… The pretty idiot and his idiot songwriter… Haha….

On a separate note, after the show in Tulsa tonight, the band, our bosses, and the musical accompaniment will be headed straight to the airport to catch a flight to Del Mar, California for our next show there in four days. Due to my flight aversion, I get to stay with the buses and gear and travel on the ground to meet them there. It will be interesting to see how I fare, considering I’ve been around the band 24/7 for the last two weeks. Maybe I’ll be able to work on some music distraction-free. I have a few works in progress, both about guys I really don’t want to think about, but once this tour cycle is over there’s no doubt we’re going to begin the process all over again for album 2.

Just paused writing this to pull out my journal and write “All Over Again” down on a blank page. That sounds like a wonderful song title.

Talk again soon,

Roxy

***

Guess what?

I was right about getting in some quality songwriting time. With the near silence of the bus, besides the intermittent strumming of my guitar and terrible singing of my own lyrics to the musical background track in my head, I think I’ve finally finished Til I Forget About You, even if the title isn’t all that accurate.

In fact, the title isn’t accurate in the slightest. In these last four days, I don’t think I’ve ever thought about Dak more. There’s been lots of frustrated yelling, crying, ripping and crumpling of pages of my journal on the floor… I don’t know how Taylor Swift makes writing break-up songs look so easy. She’s been who I pray to when I get stuck on a line or can’t figure out which chord I like better.

Between Gustavo’s and my affinity for pop music, when I write from the deep recesses of my heart, I find myself bringing out my rock roots. There’s nothing better than the feeling of guitar blasting from the speakers so loud you can feel it rattling around in your rib cage, filling up your ears and leaving them ringing for days on end, and that is the feeling I’ve been coasting on these few days…

It reminds me of my dad and I think that’s why it helps me feel better. Growing up on the heels of his time in the rock scene in Texas, then discovering the punk scene in Minnesota, he was always using his free time to replicate the sounds he’d hear at shows to play for me on his days off. He would tell me all the time that I was such a smiley, giggly kid, as long as his guitar was out - so the minute I was old enough to hold one in my hands he bought me one and taught me to play.

When I was finally old enough to go to shows with him, I always loved the contrast between our looks - my mainstream, bright-colored clothing straight out of TeenVogue and his old, beat-up black band t-shirts blending in with the dark ink on his forearms and even darker jeans and Doc Martins. Was a crowded basement in a random suburb miles away from our house, filled with drunk 20 to 30-somethings and a lineup of 7 different bands in one night really the safest place for a 13-year-old girl? Certainly not, but he always kept me safe and gave me a space to foster my own music taste just like he was afforded as a teenager.

Phew. That was a long-winded way of saying that I’m finally starting to find myself getting over the pain Dak caused me through my music, and I’m really lucky Big Time Rush has given me the space to explore this. Not that Til I Forget About You is an incredible, unmatched rock song - it is still very much a pop song, which I love just as much - but it is, for all intents and purposes, mine.

I miss both of you so much, and I cannot wait to see you again.

Roxy

***

Greetings,

One thing always seems to lead to another. In Del Mar, we finally had an actual, honest-to-God day of rest yesterday and the band asked if I wanted to go to the beach with them. Of course, I agreed, because it felt close to chilling by the Palm Woods pool, but once we got there I quickly learned that the trip everyone took without me brought Austin and the boys closer together. Which is fine, that’s what I wanted in the first place, but now, it feels like I’ve lost my touring buddy.

They spent the entire day surfing (where did these boys learn how to surf?), playing volleyball, and trying to pick up dates, and basically left me to my own devices to watch our stuff. I even wore my best bikini top (purple!) in hopes maybe, just maybe, it would bother James a bit, but I’m not sure he even noticed as he kept trying to play wingman for Carlos and Austin all day. I guess he decided no one on the beach was interesting enough to try and pick up.

Something I did notice, not that it matters at all, but Austin had a bit of trouble in the sun all day. Logan said that he was displaying symptoms of hypoglycemia, and he and I had to help Austin back to our stuff at one point after he nearly toppled over from how shaky his legs were. Eventually, we were able to get a few sodas in him, and he claimed to be right as rain, but it was pretty scary. I know it’s not right of me to ask him what I can do to help if he ever needed it because if he wanted me to share, he would have told me, but it was a bit hard not to take note of the small, off-white pod attached to his deep almond abdomen when he took his shirt off.

Typically, I’d just look it up in private to confirm my own thoughts, but I don’t get my phone for another few days. For now, though, or until he’s comfortable talking about it, I stopped into a corner store on the way back to our buses to grab some snacks that I think would help if his blood sugar were to drop unexpectedly again. Now I just pray nothing punctures the small juice boxes I put in a plastic bag or the hard fruit candies don’t spill out and stick to anything.

And on top of all of that, despite applying copious amounts of sunscreen, I managed to burn my legs. Goodbye shorts and skirts, hello pants I was saving for the colder climates. I tried to take a page out of Hayley Williams’ style book and go for shorts and fitted tees or crop tops as my go-to stage look - adding in jewelry, belts, tights, whatever to switch up my looks day to day, but now I guess I’ll be looking more like Gwen Stefani circa 1995 with my small shirts and big pants.

The show went off without a hitch and we’re off to Central Point, Oregon now, and hopefully once things get back to normal I can get my tour buddy back.

Rox

***

Girls!!!!

I know you’re both from the east coast, and I am obviously so Midwest, but there is just something about the crisp, Oregon air that makes me long for a different hometown. If I grew up here, beautiful Central Point, I think (in addition to being a major league hippie) I might have led a very different life. It’s strange to think about, and I’m incredibly grateful for my current life, but can you imagine if I was the owner of a quaint crystal shop on the edge of the evergreen forests of this state, or if I hand knit sweaters, tye-dying them all crazy, fun colors to sell to tourists. One pretty prominent radio station, Talk Radio Network, is based here, so maybe I’d still be Rockin’ Roxy out here too…

It’s a quiet town, however, not like Duluth or Los Angeles, and it’s pretty far from Portland. My dad always told me he wanted to visit there - apparently, they have a thriving music community in that town.

That’s all I have in the way of updates. After tonight’s show, we’re on our way back to California to the town of Turlock. Kelly, Gustavo, and I could have been a bit more coordinated when booking shows, but we were desperate enough to take whatever we could get, even if it meant extra travel time.

Extra travel time, however, means I have more time to think about the dumpster fire that is my love life as I am now trapped in a bus with James once again. Maybe he and Logan will play that stupid game again and leave me alone as I write.

Speaking of, here’s a few lines I’m working on. What do you think?

I see you walking, but all you do is pass me by,

Can’t even talk, ‘cause words don’t come into my mind,

I’d make a move if I had the guts to,

But I’m paralyzed

Best,

Roxy

***

Good morning, or evening, or whatever the appropriate time may be,

I’m so sorry I skipped out on letters these past few days, our show turnaround time has been insane, and I’ve been doing my best to keep up with my assistant-ly duties to the best of my ability - meaning I’ve had no time to myself in the last four days. Since I last wrote, we’ve been to Turlock, California, Costa Mesa, California, Kansas City, Missouri, and are presently pulling away from Harrington, Delaware.

A list of things of note for you:

In Turlock, Carlos ran over to me during the show and asked me if I wanted to sing. I said absolutely not and he ran off again. Then in Costa Mesa, he ran up to me during City is Ours and asked me to shout “There they are!” into his microphone after the “We pull up, open the door, all the girls scream-” line, while the rest of the band held theirs out to the crowd. They’re really taking this show and making it theirs, and it’s lovely to see. As I write this, Carlos just informed me I’ll be doing that every night with that big, goofy grin of his that makes it impossible for me to even think about saying no.

We did a radio show in each city, and the questions these interviewers come up with in order to be different from one another are just insane. Though, one of the hosts did ask them if they had anyone special waiting for them back home - it gave Logan a chance to stutter his way around the question (Camille… Make it official with him already!) and Kendall the opportunity to monologue about Jo for, like, five minutes. I would’ve recorded it had I had a device on hand capable of doing so (yeah I’m not done complaining). By the time he was done, the interview had nearly ended, so Carlos squeaked out “I have four special people!” and I think he meant the Jennifers and Stephanie (Is Stephanie back yet?). James (blegh!) said “Anyone willing to wait on me is special,” like the true teen idol he is. Any girl willing to wait on him… I pity her.

My drum lessons started in Kansas City after the band managed to rope Austin into a game of pickup while the buses were unloading. Who puts a basketball hoop outside of a music venue and expects anyone to get anything done? Regardless, it was a lot of fun and Austin is a pretty attentive teacher - far better than grouchy Gustavo when he was going over piano basics. There’s a lot I can learn from him! We also started writing his song, a fun, simple summer song about the beach and girls and whatnot… I’m excited to see this project through with him.

Gustavo and Kelly wrote a note on the daily itinerary sheets they give the band and I that we’re currently headed to Denver, Colorado, where we’ll have two days off from performing to do interviews, radio shows, news slots, the whole nine yards. Apparently, news outlets come to us, not the other way around, and they’re very excited to talk to America’s next top boy band. We’ll be doing a few live acoustic performances as well, meaning the guys and I, on camera, filmed for the whole world to see. Let’s hope I don’t mess up.

Miss you endlessly!

Roxy

***

Greetings from the Mile High City,

The press day, the boys claimed, was “hella exciting” and “beyond epic”... I’d describe it more like “waking nightmare” if anyone bothered to ask me. All they had to do was sit there, look pretty, answer some questions or play silly games, and sing. I, on the other hand, was lost in an endless pile of media release forms for every news outlet to approve, combing through the Gustavo pre-approved questions the interviewers were going to ask the boys, keeping their refreshments well stocked so they never ran out of water and choked on a dry throat when they went to answer questions… My work is never-ending!

Definitely one of the worst days on this tour for me, though, I wouldn’t choose it over having to go back and rewrite Til I Forget About You. Speaking of, in my previous letter I forgot to mention a particularly important line that I keep repeating to myself whenever I find my thoughts unpleasantly flickering to Dak… Or at this point, to James.

I found a place where I can lose myself,

And just leave your memory on the shelf,

See? I’m fine, no, I don’t need nobody else.

The punctuation is subject to change, but for now, I’m quite certain I don’t need anyone else in my life. I’m fine just being Roxy for a while… Even if my thoughts often turn into Roxy and James.

Not to toot my own horn, but the song is very good, and I can’t wait to record it once we get back from tour. I think that’ll be a good point to mark my “getting over it” progress.

Something I forgot to mention about these interviews, that I now realize as we pull away from the Denver venue and off to Eureka, Missouri, is I’m actually learning so much about the band by sitting and listening in. They almost never talk about their lives before Hollywood, because the four of them have (as I learned today) known each other since they were four years old. From first meeting at a Pee-Wee hockey league game all the way to playing varsity hockey at MAHS, they’ve been with each other almost their entire lives. Most of the interviewers ask really good, clear questions, that lead the boys down a path that gets them talking and reminiscing on themselves - something they rarely speak about when the others are around. Today (among other things) I also learned Carlos is fluent in Spanish, Logan was really into ventriloquy in middle school, Kendall is allergic to kiwi, and James is the heir to the Brooke Diamond Cosmetics company.

I should have put two and two together on the last one, he’s insanely beautiful and the last name “Diamond” isn’t exactly very common, but remembering what he’s told me about his mom and now knowing she’s Brooke Diamond?? The Este Lauder of the Midwest?? accounts for a lot of his behavior.

A few years ago, there was a big scandal that hit the front page of all the Duluth papers, news stations, radio waves, etc., claiming that BDC’s top model, and Brooke’s husband, Blake Diamond, was caught having an affair with a woman half his wife’s age. On top of that being insanely disgusting, it was in the news for weeks, announcing the Diamond divorce, explaining the court hearings and who got what, all leading up to Blake and his girlfriend eloping to Vegas and getting married the minute he and Brooke were officially split.

What does that do to a budding teenager? Chew them up and spit them out a completely new person. No wonder James never talks about his parents, or his home(s). The only time I learned something about his family was after the dance when he told me his mom made him break up with his boyfriend and when we were back in Minnesota he vaguely told me his parents were separated.

God, I cannot imagine what that must have/still feels like for him. Knowing that he had Kendall, Logan, and Carlos to help him through it makes me feel better, though.

I think, among other reasons, that might have been why he helped get us back to Hollywood a few days before the big concert. Either returning home to his successful mother as a failure or returning home to stay with a cheater and his new wife…

Phew. That was a long one. Every time I send one of these I can feel the two of you mentally cursing me for my wishy-washy gushy James feelings - trust me, it’s just as exhausting for me to think I’m fine alone one day, then want him so badly the next. Please bear with me while I figure this all out.

Wish you were here,

Roxy

***

Eureka!

Somewhere in the middle of Kansas, Kendall woke me up from my lazy couch nap to tell me he wants to learn how to play the guitar.

“That’s great,” I said. “I’d love to teach you, but all my guitars are strung left-handed.”

Bless his heart, he cocked his head and asked, “Why does that matter?”

“Well. I’m left-handed. You’re not. It’s a completely different learning process.”

“Do you know how many hockey players play left-handed, even though they’re right-hand dominant?”

Of course, I don’t. But, in the small second I had to think about it, I realized that there are plenty of famous guitar players that do that too… kind of. Many left-handed guitar players just learn right-handed because left-hand guitar equipment isn’t produced near as much or to the same quality and standards as right-handed equipment!

Thankfully, my dad is left-handed too, so he knew where to get the proper things in order for me to play when I was little, but it was I who took it upon myself to learn how to restring a guitar to fit my own needs. When I was 12, there was this beautiful oak wood acoustic in the local music shop, but it was strung right-handed. The owner didn’t know how to restring it (claiming no one had ever asked him to before, but I just think he was lazy), so I convinced my dad to buy it, a pack of new strings, and a tool kit, and I took it apart, then put everything back everything completely opposite - worked like a charm, until I sold it a few years later to get my electric acoustic.

In all, I’m excited to teach Kendall but I’ll have to find the time in between my assistant duties and my own drum lessons. The request was a bit out of the blue, however, and I wanted to ask him why, but he was too busy buzzing to Logan about it after I told him yes. Maybe he’s trying to learn a skill that will set him apart from the other band members.

After tonight’s show, we’ve got another one tomorrow before another press day, then a stretch of three more shows back to back. It’ll be tiring, but at least we’re having fun. Playing shows is rewarding beyond measure, and hard for me to put into words, but the connection the band has to their audience is unmatched. The way they can make thousands of people get up and dance, sing, let loose… It’s a beautiful sight - one I’m so lucky to be able to witness almost every night.

Maybe you can find some clips on SnoobTube,

Roxy

***

Girls, I’m running out of clever greetings,

I AM SO TIRED.

Columbus, Ohio, along with being a boring city in the world, also happened to be the same place our press day was taking place - meaning we were there for two days too long. Then, we had our three-day tour stint.

On day one, one of our eighteen-wheelers containing half of the stage set up was late. So, guess who, on top of making sure the boys were situated in their green rooms and had everything they requested, had to assist with tech setup I knew nothing about, got to run the soundcheck almost completely alone, and explain to Gustavo the boys had to go on a few minutes later than anticipated :)

On day two, I learned more about the boys. Maybe I’m being dumb and petty, but I think it’s a bit strange that much of my knowledge of them is now coming from these interviews - they’re sharing important things, that I think as their friend I should have the right to have known about beforehand. They know I’ve been struggling to get good at the piano for months now and guess who I learned has been playing all his life? James. Would it have killed him to maybe offer a helping hand? In addition, I found out Logan’s favorite food is toast. Just… plain toasted bread and butter… Kendall’s dream pet, apparently, is a goat because he misses the one we rented at the School of Rocque so much and Carlos doesn’t think Antarctica is real. I wish I could’ve stopped him before he said that during a live interview, but you win some, and you lose some. I was too busy handling all the paperwork and helping the next news outlet set up to get the interviews done as quickly as possible to get in his way.

On day three, we made it to Clearfield, Pennsylvania, a cute town that runs along a beautiful river I discovered on a walk in the morning. Sometimes being cooped up in a bus all night gets old, so when the boys work out in the morning, I wander as far as I think I can before Gustavo and Kelly realize I’m missing. The show that night was great, but Kendall ripped his pants jumping off one of my amps, and everyone in the first few rows got to see his underwear. I’m not sure he’ll be living that one down for a while.

On day four, we rolled into West Allis, Wisconsin around 6 am, where we were promptly escorted off the bus and into a local radio station, who called Gustavo the previous evening and practically begged for a Big Time Rush live acoustic performance. So, Mick and Austin got to sleep in, while I grabbed my acoustic guitar and drowsily followed the boys into the studio, languishing in the familiar smell of Lake Michigan - So close to Lake Superior back in Duluth! We performed three songs, Big Time Rush, Stuck (of course…), and Any Kind of Guy acoustic. Honestly, my stage skills are getting better with each performance, and I think it’s because the guys make me feel so relaxed when we play together. Whenever I performed with Brand New Day, I was always trying too hard to impress Dani, and more importantly, Mag, so playing always took a ton of effort. But with Big Time Rush, I feel so at ease, and I’m able to let loose and have fun. The only thing that caught me off guard today was James derailing the interview before Stuck to dedicate it to “Any girl who feels like they’re invisible… Don’t worry, I see you.”

Dedicating a song you didn’t even write to a person it’s not even about? Barf. Those words keep rattling around in my brain and I wish I could kick them straight out, but I’ve been dwelling on them for days.

On day five, we took a ferry (!!) to Midland, Michigan, while our eighteen-wheelers had to take the long way around, through Illinois and Indiana. Since our stage equipment didn’t arrive until the later part of the day, I pulled out two of my guitars stored away in Bus 1 in order to give Kendall his first lesson at the venue. Since Carlos bunked with Logan and me the night before, the boys decided to switch buses for a few hours, which meant I had to deal with an insane amount of James' side eye as he went about making his breakfast in the small kitchen.

If he’s got a problem with me hanging around my friends, he’s no better than Dak and I’m certainly not going through that again. He kisses me a few times and now thinks he has some weird possessive thing over me? Absolutely not. I’m just so done with him, I don’t understand how just a month and a half ago we shared a journey that literally altered the course of our lives, and now, here he is, acting as though it meant nothing to him.

Maybe I need to get out of the celebrity dating pool - if this tour has taught me anything it certainly is the fact that all my friends are famous and I am not.

Yeah. What a downer of a letter this turned into,

Roxy

***

Send lots of caffeine and my giant stuffy puppy to Fairlea, West Virginia, please!

I’m too exhausted to write out a better greeting, so this letter begins with the truth. There were many times over the last three days I sat down to write this, but every day I ended up falling asleep in the middle. Last night, Logan had to physically remove the pen from my hand while I slept as I was apparently in danger of poking my eye out.

In three days we’ve been to Hamburg, New York, Indianapolis, Indiana, and Peru, Illinois. Another day without seeing the Big Apple, another day in a big city that makes me miss Los Angeles, and another day in a city where if the name and state weren’t written down on our call sheets I might be so tiredly deluded I think we’re in a different country.

Kendall, Logan, Carlos, and James are natural-born performers. I, on the other hand, am starting to believe that I may not be cut from a similar cloth. Something inside of them keeps them on the go, go, go, and I would love to know just what it is that makes them tick. The only thing keeping me motivated right now is getting to hear the crowd sing along to my songs every single night. It sounds a bit cheesy to write out, but it’s true! To know all of our hard work writing, recording, and rehearsing, is paying off and reaching corners of the U.S. we didn’t even know existed! And that people are buying our album… So I’ll have a nice cushion of a retirement plan when I’m older…

That, and my lessons of course! Austin has been so cool about helping me learn the drums, and I think I’m getting pretty good even though I’ve only had a few moments of practice. That, and we even had enough time to work on our song more, which is surprisingly almost complete… That boy can write! My goal is to write a drum section for one of my songs all by myself. Normally, Gustavo is able to take my lyrics and guitar melodies and write in drums, bass, piano, or whatever else we think is necessary to execute our grand vision, so for once, I’d like to fill in a new instrument and save him some time which would probably also equate to saving him some time yelling at our other band members.

Guitar lessons with Kendall have been going well too, though I’m not sure he’s very fond of me as a teacher. I’ve struggled to put together little exercises for him to practice because I barely remember learning guitar myself. Maybe I can talk to my dad about it on our next call.

Oh! And Carlos and I invented a game today!

We call it Honk Bonk, and you play it exactly how it sounds. Any time a car in traffic honks, you bonk the closest person on the head with something near you. My weapon of choice, of course, is my journal, and the boys are already used to bonking from that, though someone did honk during Kendall’s lesson today… I was tempted but alas, he needs to stay pretty so he can date my best friend. And sell more albums.

I hope you’re both well, I can’t wait to get back home to see you,

Roxy

***

Panicking! I spent all of today panicking!

This morning, Logan and Kendall shook me awake around 3 am to tell me that it was James’ birthday. TODAY.

I had a few thoughts on this. 1. Why didn’t any of the band mention this until we were three hours into the day? 2. Where the hell am I supposed to get party supplies on a moving bus rolling into Fairlea, West Virginia? 3. How am I going to survive an entire day centered around the guy I’m doing my very best not to think about? 4. Is James mature enough to be the first of us to turn seventeen?

Thank God James was on the other bus because if he had heard the ideas Logan, Kendall, and I had in order to surprise James the minute we stopped at the next venue…

Here was what we came up with:

If you cut up little pieces of colored paper, it kinda looks like confetti. The colored paper in question? Three of the front and back covers of books Logan had brought and finished in the first part of the tour. Kendall had to physically restrain him as I did this.

I’m a songwriter - when in a pinch, write a song. The three of us quickly devised a little spin on the traditional happy birthday song to surprise James with on stage later that blends into the traditional song everyone knows. Hopefully, an entire stadium of people singing to him is a good enough gift.

We can take old tour itineraries from the previous towns, a Sharpie, and some of the bungee chords holding our equipment down during travel to make a HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAMES banner.

The bus was stocked with enough items to make Oreo Fluff salad, thanks to the miracle that is pudding cups, but not a real cake… He seemed to enjoy it when he came to tell me we were going back to L.A. after a few hours in Duluth. I don’t have any green food coloring, however, so it was boring black and white.

A sub point - around 6 am I begged the bus driver, Henrietta, to let me use her phone and call a Fairlea local bakery and express order a cake to bring out on stage. I also managed to call the venue and ask them to pick up some cupcakes to be waiting in the green room when we arrived and put up any party supplies they had on hand.

It was exhausting, like most things on this tour I guess, but once we rolled into town everything had been squared away, our efforts were well worth it.

Did you know that when James smiles, like really smiles, he has the most adorable dimples that carve right into his cheeks?

A smile that makes me breathless. A smile that remained on his face all day as we surprised him with our homemade banner, confetti, and treats. A smile plastered on his face the entire show, especially when we surprised him with our song, cake, and the entire crowd sang him happy birthday.

When the show ended, the band freshened up and went to meet some fans out by the front of the venue, and I had to run back into the bus and record my journal entry and write this letter, as I currently am before they came back.

My journal entry contained the word “James” like 40 times.

GOD! He ignores me almost all of the tour, speaking to me only about the essentials or whatever's going on around us on our days off, I finally decide he isn’t into me and I should just chill out for a bit, and now I’m suddenly all about him again. Maybe it’s just because I’m around him literally every day… Maybe it’s because I felt a hint of (healthy! Definitely healthy!) jealousy when he looked at everyone singing to him on stage and in the crowd except for me… Ugh.

We’re on for another multi-day stretch of shows, so please forgive me for fewer letters as the days go on,

Roxy

***

Look I know I said I’d be sending fewer letters but I NEED to tell you guys this.

After arriving in Farmingville, New York, around 9ish in the morning, I was abruptly awoken to the sound of Gustavo yelling at the band about who knows what. Apparently, this pissed them off so much they came storming onto my bus, told me to get ready as fast as I could, and thirty minutes later we were sneaking out of the venue and into a taxi that drove us right into the heart of Manhattan.

We messed around the city for the ENTIRE DAY and Gustavo had no way of finding us since he had our phones. Finally, we got to be the tourists instead of the attraction, before getting back to the venue before the show started.

Once the taxi dropped us off right outside of Time Square, Logan had the brilliant idea for each of us to pick one thing we wanted to do, and do our best to complete them before the end of the day. The list is as follows:

Kendall wanted to go to the top of the Empire State Building

Logan wanted to visit the Morgan Library

Carlos wanted to see Spider-Man

James (after loudly complaining we couldn’t see something on Broadway) wanted to take a sightseeing cruise around the bay to see the Statue of Liberty

I wanted to see the musical instrument display at the MET and I convinced everyone to join me for a lunch picnic in Central Park.

Today was literally perfect, though I did feel a bit bad about leaving Austin and Mick back at the venue to run the soundcheck without me.

Besides admiring the thousands of advertisements roving around the Square, the first thing we did was hit the Morgan Library. The architecture was just breathtaking and it was amazing to see the carefully curated collection of historical documents. They even had musical manuscripts and printed forms of music from nearly one hundred years ago… I wonder how a boy band in 1909 would look… Or if my journals will be on display in 2109… Scary!

Not as scary as the top of the Empire State Building, though!

It was so cold and windy up there, even in the middle of the summer. I practically had to cling to Carlos’ arm to feel even a little bit stable, but of course, he wanted to get right up to the very edge of the building and look straight down. Kendall and Logan wanted to join him (one to spit off the edge and the other to try and calculate how far away the second tallest building in NY was) so I got passed off to James. Would it have killed him to put his arm around me and tell me it would be alright? Jesus. He just stood there, silently looking off into the distance while I clutched at his arm. Message received: He isn’t into me.

The rest of the day was fun and I wanted to write more but now I’m a bit sad after writing that. All I really want to do is go to bed now; I’ll tell you about it when we meet again, I guess.

Roxy

***

Daddy,

Tour is hard. So hard. And I feel so stupid for thinking that I was cut out for this kind of thing. Songwriters are for the studio, not the stage. I’ve spent so much time around the guys I’m starting to go crazy. You and I always talked about traveling if we had the money, and let me tell you one day per city is hardly enough to even say that I’ve been here. It’s not cross-country exploration if I haven’t explored five minutes past the closest coffee shop because I can barely keep my eyes open without caffeine.

I’m constantly tired. My back hurts from sleeping on the couch. My fingers are so sore. My eyes are dry from the incessant spotlight lighting us up for thousands of people every night. The next person to ask me for something might get their head bitten off if they don’t say “please?”

Just because I’m an assistant doesn’t mean I get to be walked all over.

The applause is nice though, hearing everyone sing along to my songs even in parts of the country I’ve never even heard of… Maybe that’s enough to get me to Duluth.

I can’t wait to see you. Sorry for the depressing letter, I’m having a hard time being away from both of my homes.

Promise you’ll listen to the setlist before you see us?

I hope I’m making you proud,

Roxanne

***

Hi.

The shows in Lima, Ohio, and Falcon Heights, Minnesota were great. Our friends are just so talented. It was hard being so close to Duluth, and I invited my dad to the show last minute, but he wasn’t able to make it.

We’re driving to Essex, Vermont now - 13 hours into a 20-hour journey.

The weather out here has been awful, it’s been thunder storming nonstop, so we haven’t been making as many stops as we usually have. Just my luck I’m stuck with Logan and James, and I’ve been writing a song all day.

It’s a song for James’ invisible girls… More accurately, a song full of words I wish he would say to me.

Am I out of mind, or just invisible?

Anyway. It’s been extra hard to write because the two of them were sitting less than three feet away from me the entire time. They’re both so nosey, consciously or not and kept looking over at me. I could tell they wanted to ask me about it, but at least they were respectful enough not to.

It’s got a really beautiful guitar melody, but I’d love to get my hands on my keyboard back home because I have a cool idea for a backing track… Never thought I’d be excited to play the piano but here I am, itching to play it thousands of miles from home.

We play Boston, Massachusetts in a few days, and the boys kept talking about wanting to hit up a pizza place in the city that they visited during one of their hockey tournaments a few years ago. At this point, I’m just trying to get through the next 7 hours. That’s when we get to the next venue, though we have to take a day off from the show tomorrow. Not only is it Carlos’ birthday, but it’s the day of Hawk and Rebecca’s trial. Sweet, sweet seventeen spent reminiscing one of the worst moments of our entire lives. Whoo whoo.

In other depressing news, after coming to the realization that I like James, but he doesn’t like me, it’s been extra hard to be around him. Mostly I just hang out with Austin and beat out my frustration on his drum kit… The last 13 hours have been like hell. Every time James smiles, it makes me want to. His laugh rings in my ears, sending a jolt straight through my heart. Whenever he gets up to walk by me, it takes everything in me not to stare as he moves about the bus.

It’s exhausting… Having a crush on someone is supposed to be fun. I’m supposed to feel like I’m walking on air, and glow, and sparkle, and shine. Instead, I feel like shit.

Truly, I guess I don’t really know him like I thought I did. What happened to the always flirty, unserious, loverboy who took me on a date our first month in Los Angeles?

I think I blew my chance with him once I met Dak, and I think I hate myself for it.

Exhausted and missing home,

Roxy

***

Happy birthday, happy trial day,

I hope you’ll be pleased to know that Hawk and Rebecca will be going away for a long time. We tried to celebrate Carlos’ birthday with cupcakes at the venue, but no one had an appetite after our Skype trial. To try and lighten the mood, I played a few songs he showed me at the beginning of the tour on my guitar, but I could tell as he absently sang along it wasn’t really helping.

Though, in other news that I shouldn’t be happy about, James spoke to me today unprompted and asked if I was okay after my testimony. Apparently, I was speaking quite shakily… Which, yeah. I was fucking kidnapped and asked to recount it in front of a room full of people I don’t know, of course, I was shaky. But at least he was thinking about me.

Maybe he needs signs or cues or reasons to act or something… Weirdo.

Anyway, we’ll bring a cake out for Carlos during the show tomorrow and have the crowd sing for him. Hopefully, he’s in better spirits tomorrow.

This was a weird letter, I know. Life’s weird recently, but thanks for reading. Miss you two.

Roxy.

***

Carlos fucking Garcia has been reading my mail. I’m convinced of it! Because tonight, when the band did the little introduction of their musical accompaniment, Carlos introduced me, walked right up to me, planted to sweetest, wettest, loudest kiss onto my cheek, and told me he loved me in front of the whole crowd.

When I told him I loved him back, we got some “awwws” (mostly “boooos” that I’m choosing to ignore) and continued the show.

Then.

When the show ended.

James grabbed my hand, dragged me off towards the back door of the venue, onto some side street alley where we couldn’t hear the crowds of people leaving the show anymore, and asked me if I wanted to make out.

A reason to act! Carlos telling thousands of people he loved me was a reason to act!

So.

We made out in a dirty, smelly alley and I think it was the best night of my entire life… Besides the five seconds I’m pretty sure a rat touched my foot.

There is hope yet,

Roxy

P.S.

When I got back to the bus I was buzzing so bad I told Logan everything. That I liked James, that we kissed, that we kissed some more, that I think about him all the time, that I’ve written one and a half songs about him already.

I’m in so deep at this point… And all Logan did was grin at me - stupid, dumb grin - and say “Finally,” before heading off to his bunk to sleep.

Camille, I hate your almost-boyfriend and I’m drawing all over his face in Sharpie tonight.

***

Oops,

Not to leave you two on a cliffhanger but the last month of tour has been so insane I haven’t even had a minute to myself to write (letters or otherwise), think, or even just take a breather in a coffee shop in the middle of nowhere.

The rockstar lifestyle is hard to get used to… Hopefully, we budget more off days for future tours or I might go crazy.

To answer the question I know is on your minds: No. Nothing else happened with me and James, though he does actually sit down and talk to me now (even if it’s mostly work-related, I’ll take it). We toured all throughout most of the other states in the country, I’d write them all here but I lost track after Boston if I’m being honest. Though I do know that at one point we were in Phoenix, Arizona and Kendall accidentally said “Hello, Las Vegas!” to the entire stadium.

MSG was insane. Best venue I’ve ever been to, the best crowd we’ve ever had, and the second-best night of my life.

As I write to you now, we’re about to play our last show in Duluth, Minnesota, before our three-day journey home. I’ve got a bunch of silly string to prank the boys with on stage during their solo sets… They won’t even know what hit them!

My dad finally got to meet the guys, though I’m not sure he liked any of them but he was kind enough - but what father would like the four boys his daughter is best friends with? I have no idea why he keeps calling James “Jay” but whatever. After the show ended I snuck him out of the venue and showed him our buses, and trucks for stage set up, and let him meet Mick and Austin as well - Austin even performed his song for my dad… His first audience member!

Safe to say, he loved Austin’s number, but how he felt about everything else, he didn’t share on his face like normal. I like to think I’m pretty good at deciphering how my father feels at this point in my life, but he kept his expressions at bay as we walked around everything we had waiting for us outside. I hope it didn’t put him off or something, considering I know that being a musician was his dream, too. What he did say was: “You shared this bus with two boys?” and “Which guitars are you using, Honey Bun? You deserve only the best.”

Dads.

I also got to meet Logan and Carlos’ families! (Minus James’... I felt really bad for him that his parents weren’t there…) Logan’s moms were so sweet - overly doting on him, fixing up his outfit, practically smothering him with health facts and tips. I think one of his moms is a realtor, while the other is a doctor, which would explain Logan’s want to be a doctor himself. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s a pediatrician. She gave off the vibe she’d be amazing with kids. It must have been so wonderful to grow up in that household :)

Since I’d already met Carlos’ dad, Mr. Garcia was kind enough to introduce me to his wife and three daughters. Genetics work in mysterious ways, blessing each of the Garcia children with the same dark hair and alluring eyes. It was hard to tell sisters Maria, Lupe, and Alena apart, but after talking to them a bit I was able to find some differences. They all followed me on ScuttleButter, so maybe we’ll talk more in the future. I loved getting to know them! Mrs. Garcia and her son also share a lot of the same mannerisms - they’re both curious, caring, and just a bit ADHD. The two of them spent most of their time together with the girls, pointing out different things about the venue, sharing stories from their time away from each other, and the coolest part was their switching back and forth from English to Spanish depending on if they wanted their conversations to be overheard or not.

At one point I think they were talking about me (and James) but I can’t be sure. Maybe if I’d taken Spanish in school instead of French my freshman year…

I wish Mrs. Knight had been there, but Kendall and James kept themselves occupied by talking sports with my dad. For a bit, Dad and Kendall talked about guitars after mentioning that I was teaching him how to play, leaving James out of the loop, so I went over and struck up a conversation with him.

Normal. That’s what we are - or more accurately what our relationship is - though, I think he looks at me a bit differently now. There’s no evidence to that last statement, I just feel his eyes on me sometimes and it makes my chest flutter. I much prefer being friends (who made out) that are able to be around each other, than whatever his weird, “ignore Roxy” game was.

The show’s in 10, so we need to start walking to the stage!

I loved writing to you two, but I can’t wait to get back to talking face-to-face. I’m in dire need of a girl’s night.

See you soon (for real this time),

Roxy <3

--

A little change of pace before season two! Thanks for reading :) Support for this story has been overwhelming!

Since school is starting back up, I'm going to be switching back to posting every two weeks instead of every week. <3 

Season two starts September 5th, but I'll do my best to post little one-shots and such on my tumblr, so check over there every once and a while :)

[maloned]

CM Punk's Pipe Bomb: Reigniting My Passion for Wrestling and the Hope for His AEW Return

CM Punk's Pipe Bomb and Money in the Bank 2011 was the pivotal moments that reignited my passion for wrestling. As a Lapsed Fan who had lost interest in WWE and wrestling after the failed invasion angle and the original brand extension, I had limited my viewership to WrestleMania alone.

However, in 2011, fate intervened when a nearby Buffalo Wild Wings restaurant began airing all WWE PPVs. It was the perfect opportunity to enjoy the shows while indulging in some delicious wings and a raucous crowd of wrestling fans. Then, I stumbled upon David Lagana's podcast, "We Want Wrestling," specifically created for Lapsed Fans like myself. That podcast was fanning the flames of my fandum, preparing the way for what came next.

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The unforgettable Monday night of June 27, 2011. I still ignored RAW and Smackdown during that time, but I decided to tune into the end of the go-home episode of RAW before Money in the Bank, I was treated to CM Punk's legendary Pipe Bomb promo. It was a captivating moment. Punk eloquently expressed all the thoughts I had about the state of wrestling. He articulated the very reasons why I had drifted away from my favorite form of sports and entertainment.

That remarkable promo, combined with the electric atmosphere of the Chicago crowd at Money in the Bank and the phenomenal 5-star match between Punk and Cena, ignited a renewed excitement and hope within me. It carried me through the rollercoaster ride of The Summer of Punk and sustained through Daniel Bryan's (Bryan Danielson)'s YES Movement. upto the next Brand Split in 2016. Despite growing weary of WWE's questionable booking and the excessive time investment required, I was grateful for being drawn back into the wrestling world. For a few years, I had the privilege of experiencing WWE and witnessing the rise of Bryan alongside my daughters before they outgrew it.

In recent years, my rekindled fandom has found a new home in New Japan Pro Wrestling. Thanks to their English simulcasts on PPV, AXStv, and the NJPW World streaming platform, I've been able to delve deeper into the wrestling world. The captivating performances of stars like Kenny Omega, Chris Jericho, the Young Bucks, and Cody Rhodes led me to the first-ever ALL IN pay-per-view and the birth of All Elite Wrestling (AEW). AEW's shows have become a tremendous source of entertainment for me, reinvigorating my love for the sport.

The journey came full circle on August 20, 2021, when CM Punk made his triumphant return to wrestling in AEW. His arrival marked the beginning of a year that saw him headlining some of the most memorable in-ring pay-per-views in history. Through Punk's presence, AEW transformed from an exceptional in-ring promotion to a major box office draw.

"This is my plea to all four guys. Please find a way to make it work. If we can make it work, we can set up the future of professional wrestling for a long time and we can change the course of professional wrestling for a very long time. When you think about it, unselfishly, we're doing this for 20-30 years down the road so guys and girls can make a living." - FTR with Dax Hardwood podcast

"It's not in fashion right now, but you need to point out the fact that he lifted people's games in ways you wouldn't expect," Mick Foley said of CM Punk on the Foley is Pod podcast.

CM Punk's Pipe Bomb promo and Money in the Bank 2011 reignited my passion as a lapsed fan, taking me on a journey through The Summer of Punk and beyond. CM Punk's return in 2021 marked a full circle moment. His presence elevated AEW, reminding me why I fell in love with wrestling. I'm grateful to CM Punk for reigniting my love and hope to see him and many other young stars, shaping wrestling's future. He has a special ability to elevate others' games in this ever-evolving world of sports and entertainment.

[iamsuggestingthatcoconutsmigrate]

Episode 2

~ young Lee Jay and young Bobby do not look enough like old Lee Jay and old Bobby

~ Joseph, explaining the plot of the episode in one sentence

~ Your girlfriend was clearly having a nightmare, but sure Josh, be mad that she was saying another man's name while having it. Aren't you glad her nightmares aren't about you??

~ 25 year old scotch(?) after you just found out that *definitely not this Mick St John was involved in your friend's boyfriend's conviction? I'm sure that's a coincidence.

~ Beth not even pretending it's a coincidence and immediately segueing into the book and the 25 year old case.

~ Mick maybe don't go into the bathroom of a very public event to threaten the man that everyone is here to see. And now you're vamping out in said bathroom. Why are you letting this guy play you like a fiddle?

~ It really is a shame that literally no one will believe that Lee Jay put his own head through that glass. But, like, I feel like that is something that could be proved.

~ Hungry Like the Wolf is playing. That wasn't released until June 1982 in US so this takes place in the latter part of 82.

~ Non-zero chance that Mick getting a phone call saying Ilene was dead saved the life of the freshie he was eating, the way she feinted when he let her go. My guy really isn't good with live feeding.

~ Beth saying there's no record of Mick's father being a PI or a cop, but shouldn't there be records of Mich being a PI back then? Why aren't those coming up in her search; what is she searching??

~ Bobby says he's known Mick for over 35 years. Does that mean he started doing PI work in the late 60s or early 70s? How quickly did he leave Coraline? Was he doing PI work while with her?

~ Lee Jay broke into his house. Even if Mick did shoot him, that wouldn't be illegal. California has both Stand Your Ground and Castle Doctrine, it's the latter that would apply here. In California, you have the right to use deadly force to defend your home. Honestly he needed to just hide the blood bags better in the time it would take the police to get there, but they're not going to rummage through his home, they're just going to ask for a copy of his security cam footage.

~ The lemons and water glasses in the fridge are all scattered about and overturned, Lee Jay really worked to find that blood.

~ And then he tries to drink it. Is that cannibalism?

~ I love how Joseph's answer to every problem is murder

~ My favourite think is in tv shows where you can absolutely tell that if the characters weren't in a tv show they'd be using the word fuck instead of whatever they end up saying. It's okay Josh, we know if you were a real person you would have said fucked up

~ Josh you don't even live there. Why does your job control which fugitives your girlfriend harbors?

~ It's a good thing Mick has super vampire hearing because Lee Jay says put him on like four times without Beth processing what she's supposed to do

~ I miss old answering machines that could record conversations like that

~ When they say that Mick has turned himself in, they show the same picture from Julia's book, that's also from 1950. Surely they know that's not the same guy (I mean, it is, but they have no reason to believe that it's way more likely to be his granddad)

~ "I thought I told you to stay in the car" is a real funny way of saying thank you...

~ Oh right, Mick gave all his blood to Joseph to hide, so he had to go get more when he was injured. Wonder where he got it from, because neither Joseph nor Guillermo would have let him leave like that. And if he had just gone and gotten his bag from wherever Joseph hid it, he would have had the bag to carry it in

~ Also has he even gotten the silver out of his back OMG

~ Beth, Honey, He's clearly not okay. He's pretty clearly not human. But you want to ask him, of all things, why you're dreaming about him? How should he know? He's not a psychic. He doesn't know that recent events have triggered repressed memories to surface as nightmares for you.

~ Mick's unofficial kill count is up to 3; Daniel from the last episode, and Lee Jay's two goons from this one.

Re-re-re (xinfinity) watching Moonlight (2007) and

~ Joseph asks Mick if he's been working out. and we see in later episodes that Mick does indeed workout. So we can assume that unlike other vampire media, they aren't static, they can actively change their bodies, just not age. We also see Mick with longer hair in the 80s than both when he was human and in the present.

~ His PI License is only good for three years. How has he been renewing this every three years for the last 25 years (at least) without anyone noticing he doesn't age. It's not like he could do it online. And it has his picture on it, wouldn't that have been a bit of an issue for him prior to digital cameras in the 90s?

~ "You know, some people even find [vampires] attractive" Beth, with scrunched up nose probably thinking of Nosferatu "really" Mick, the vampire, getting the most disheartened look on his face. Dude, what? If she had said yeah me too were you gonna confess?!?!

~ Beth legit held Micks hand for a good 6 seconds, which doesn't seem like a lot, but surely if it was long enough for her to realize it was awkward it was also long enough for her to realize he was cold. And she thinks nothing of this?

~ I hope the vampire study group gets regularly checked for blood-borne diseases.

~ Mick just made a Spinal Tap reference

~ Maybe my college was unique in having bare classrooms because every room was a multi-purpose room, but why are there so many masks and posters and skeletons? Are all of the classes meeting there leaving their stuff and hoping it doesn't overlap too badly? Is Christian bringing all that and setting it up before every class for ambiance? Is he making Daniel do it???

~ Mick legit just appears in this man's office and starts closing his blinds and playing with his stuff.

~ The way Joseph is just in Mick's apartment when he gets home. Like I get that it's his best friend and Mick probably gave him a key, but I also think it would be funny if Joseph actually owns the building and is abusing his landlord powers

~ Mick it's going to take more than lemons, apples, and coffee to convince people you're human. Like I get that coffee and lemon water are probably things you offer clients, but please tell me you're not just giving people whole ass apples while they cry about their missing person to you.

~ Stop looking so surprised that Khloe's dead, you knew that already.

~ Love how Sophia Myles can't hide her British accent around fellow Brit

~ Christian how many girls have you felt up that you know the difference between an underwire bra and an under-bra wire?

~ I love how this episode ends in My Immortal which samples from Moonlight Sonata, which is also the name of the last episode. Something something it ends where it all began.

[gallawitchxx]

hey bee so um I was scrolling through tumblr right, a normal wednesday night for me and I come across these tags right?

maybe wanna share more thots on this please?

You've put this in my head and now I can't get rid of it unless someone writes it

cc: @y0itsbribri

AJ & BRI MY SWEETS 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

more harvest festival thoughts you say?

I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED BUT I WROTE 1.6K WORDS! PUTTING THEM UNDER THE CUT OMFGGGG

- - - -

mickey did a stint in prison--some run with terry gone wrong--& when he gets paroled his new p.o. sets him up with a job at a fucking harvest festival. cleaning toilets, emptying trash cans, picking up after all the little brats who run around eating half of a candy apple & then throwing the rest on the ground like goddamn animals!

fucking blows.

but he goes along with it because terry also got sent away & shanked inside, so he's dead now & mickey's free to live a different life.

he'd never say it out loud, but he wants a different life.

so, he works that harvest festival like his future depends on it, which it does, & vendors start to notice him, & then he's being asked to help around different booths & rides. a little fix-up here, a little "carry this to the car for me, will you dear?" there.

before he knows it, he's the harvest fest handyman.

pride swells in his chest. he looks forward to going to work.

the season ends. the festival packs it in until next year.

mickey gets a new job painting houses. he misses the folks & the smells of the festival, the woozy look of dumb motherfuckers straight off the tilt-a-whirl, even the fucking candy apple kids.

when the next fall rolls around, mickey asks his p.o. if he can get his gig back at the harvest festival. unfortunately not. someone else needs the short term placement & mickey's superiors like him down at the painting gig. no dice.

but the lure of the festival is too strong, too enticing, so of course, the first friday of the fest, mickey's dragging mandy down to the fairgrounds under the guise of some fucktwat x assface bonding time. "you like stupid shit like this," he spits, throwing his voice to throw her off his scent.

it's just like he remembered. everywhere they walk there are waves, "good to see you!"s, "we miss you this year, mick!" from familiar faces. he hides his blush behind his extra large coke & jumbo preztel.

when they hit the haunted house, the owner is outside, red-faced & screaming at some acne-scarred kid. mickey winces. he likes the old man, but he can be a hard-ass.

fuck, mickey's getting soft.

by the time he & mandy make their way through the house--mandy almost punched some scary clown in the face & mickey ended up scaring one of the employees instead of the other way around--the kid is gone & the owner's sucking down a cigarette & pacing like he's going to bore a hole in the ground.

turns out that kid was supposed to be working the whole festival, but something came up & he had to back out.

the haunted house is down one scarer.

mickey offers his services.

he fucking loves it.

mickey starts setting goals for himself--he wants to make some kid piss themselves. could he get someone to puke? how many jump scares in a night is too many? anything to spice it up for himself & the regulars he starts to accrue. tough kids with something to prove. mickey fucking takes down every last one of them.

before long, he's quit his boring ass painting gig to go on the road with old man jim & the haunted house. jim sees his potential, sees how hard he works, how much he enjoys it. pretty soon, he's covering for jim so he can get a night off & putting his math skills to use helping with the books.

nothing like the open road & a fuckton of kids just waiting to get the shit scared outta 'em.

a few years go by & old jim's starting to hate life on the road. his bones ache, his lungs are black with smoke, his cough terrible & he figures it's time to get out while he still can. spend some time at a beach or something. rest his weary legs.

he hands the keys to the literal house to mickey.

it's too much to run on his own, so he calls up the rest of the milkovich siblings. asks if they have anything better to do than to join him on the road. says that it could be good for them to get paid to run a haunted house after growing up for free in a real one.

promises them that every halloween, they'll be in chicago at the festival that mickey first worked at. they'll work the season & then hang around the ole neighborhood until the new year.

when september rolls around, the milkovich kids set-up camp at the fairgrounds. mickey's welcomed back with open arms, shown even more of the "behind the scenes" than before. he's earned it, he's one of them now.

the place feels like home.

mickey's the big boss now, he has tons of acne-scarred kids to run the actual show, but every once & a while he sees a group of punks that he really wants to show a good time & he hops in the house, taking up his old position behind a trap door in the hallway.

but one night, it's not a buncha punks that leads him to his old haunt. it's an alien-looking motherfucker, tall & glowing, face littered with freckles, a shock of red hair haphazardly atop his head.

mickey's gotta get closer to him. maybe test him a little. see what he does when the pressure's on & the walls move unexpectedly.

his palms sweat as he waits. as he peeks through the peephole in the trapdoor for the ginger & his friends to pass by.

when the time's right, mickey swings open his trap door.

the redhead launches himself back towards the opposite wall, his arm lifting like he might actually sock mickey in the fucking face. it's never happened to him before, so this would be a hell of a way for it to go.

but then, his arm is sailing smoothly behind his porcupine-looking hair-do, & mickey watches him come to land gracefully against the wall with his right leg hitched out in this fucking sexy ass pose, like that's what he'd meant to do all along.

"come here often?" the guy grins.

mickey's losing his mind, but plays it cool: "only on the weekends."

that earns him a dazzling smile, all white teeth & bright green eyes. mickey can't help but smile back.

the moment's broken by laughter from the rest of the mystery man's group, pulling both of them back from whatever cloud they were occupying in the middle of a fucking house of horrors.

mickey flushes. the redhead does finger guns????, gives a little embarrassed wave & then he's off, onto the next room.

when the fair's almost empty & mickey's almost done for the night, he grabs his pack of smokes & heads to the back of the house set-up, somewhere he's only been allowed to go now that he owns the joint.

he lights up.

he notices a figure walking up.

"'ey man, place is for employees only."

"what about friends of employees?"

fuck, it's the guy. the alien-looking one.

mickey clears his throat, "you throw finger guns at all your friends, red?"

he laughs. his face pink up & mickey wants to run his thumb against his cheekbones.

"hey, you gotta admit until then i was pretty smooth. used my last brain cell keeping it together back there."

"yeah, yeah, you did good. was impressed." mickey holds out the pack. "you smoke?"

"been known to, yeah."

the lighter snicks & then the redhead is leaning down. he smells like cotton candy and cologne.

they each take a drag.

the silence is nice. not uncomfortable, much to mickey's surprise.

finally, mickey says, "your friends ditch you or something?"

"or something."

there's a hint of spice to his otherwise smooth voice & he's looking at mickey like he could eat him alive.

"you gotta name?"

"ian," he says, holding a hand out to shake.

mickey takes it. "mickey."

ian looks to where their hands are joined. "woah, nice tats. no wonder they keep you locked up in the dark & away from the kids."

"not far away enough if you ask me."

their handshake ends before mickey's ready.

he's nervous. fuck, is that what this feeling is? all pesky butterflies in his gut.

before he can say anything else, ian asks: "so, if i come back tomorrow, you'll be here?"

"be here through halloween, man."

"but only on the weekends, right?"

mickey forgot he'd said that. wasn't true, just sounded good in the moment.

"naw man, i run the place. here every day."

mickey stubs out his cigarette, trying not to look at the delighted look on ian's face.

"you run the place? here i was thinking i was into some regular old actor type! didn't know i was talking to mr. haunted house himself."

"alright, alright, calm down. it's a fucking carnival ride, not some fortune 500 whatever-the-fuck."

ian takes his last drag and steps on the butt, twisting his leg in a similar pose as he struck in the haunted house.

"still pretty cool," he says with a shrug. "so if i were to have some thoughts about the user experience of the house, you know, a review, you're the one to tell?"

"a review, huh?"

"yeah, a pretty long one, mickey. could take a minute."

something hot flickers between them as they look each other up & down.

mickey pushes off the wall he'd been leaning on & heads towards the small door on the side of the house.

he swings it open & then turns back to face ian with a wicked grin.

"step into my office."

[usercelestial]

In the early hours of the morning, while the golden sun streams through their apartment window, Mickey stirs at a knock on the door. 

He shakes Ian, whose limbs are wrapped tight around him, his drool pooling on his chest. Ian grumbles something but doesn’t move. 

“Someone’s at the door, shithead, go get it,” Mickey shakes him again. 

Ian yawns and stretches his arms, laying flat on his back now, “Who the fuck is here this early?” Ian turns back to Mickey, smiling, “You know what day it is?” 

Mickey scrunches his eyebrows, trying to remember, “Uh, shit, a Tuesday?” He searches his brain for the date but he doesn’t get very far before Ian jumps on him, pressing kisses to his face. 

“It’s your birthday!” Ian says, far too loudly in Mickey’s opinion, in between kisses. 

Oh. 

Mickey knew Ian would want to celebrate. He’s been getting better at the whole self-love thing. Instead of sulking in their room, remembering all the times he was punished for his excitement until he figured out his existence isn’t something to celebrate, they would go out and get dinner and come home drunk on both alcohol and love. Though he can’t help but feel an ache in his chest for his forlorn upbringing. 

“Christ. I forgot,” Mickey places his hands on Ian’s hips, “I’m getting old.” 

Ian scoffs, “Don’t say that. You’re still in your twenties, doofus.” 

Mickey rolls his eyes and pushes Ian off his lap, “Go get the door.” 

Ian complies, leaving one last kiss on his cheek. 

He overhears a soft conversation, hushed and excited. 

He barely makes out what sounds like a woman’s voice paired with Ian’s. Mickey rubs his eyes, trying to rack his brain for any neighbor they might have pissed off last night who would come over to complain. He quickly throws on clothes and walks out to the living room to see Ian standing in the kitchen with Tami. 

She makes eye contact with him, “Fucking finally.” 

“What the hell do you mean ‘finally.’ It’s nine in the fucking morning.” 

“For normal people with healthy sleep schedules, it’s late,” she cocks her hips out, “Came to drop off your present, asshole, say thank you.” 

He punches her shoulder lightly, “Thanks, dick.” 

She holds out a small box, wrapped neatly in green wrapping paper. He haphazardly rips it off and opens it.  

There's an assortment of gifts. The first thing he pulls out is a Mickey Mouse plushie with a card taped to the front. The writing is messy, scribbled crayon, it reads: 

“hapy birth day, uncle mickey

freddie.” 

“Cool,” Mickey’s voice breaks, Tami and Ian snicker. 

“Lip helped pick out the toy,” Tami adds. 

“Fucker,” Mickey gently places the gift on the countertop. 

He goes back in and grabs a package wrapped in plastic. He realizes it’s soap and shampoo, a certain kind he told Tami he wanted a while ago, “How the fuck did you remember this?” 

Tami shrugs, “You’re my friend, stupid. There’s also a cookbook, Lip got that for both of you since Ian’s getting into growing his own food.”  

Mickey grabs the book that’s sitting on the bottom of the box, glancing at it before tossing it to Ian, “Thank you,” he nods and before he realizes it, she’s hugging him and pulling away. 

“Happy birthday, Mick. Love you guys,” Tami kisses Ian’s cheek, “I gotta go, see ya.” 

“Bye, Tami,” Ian waves, turning back to Mickey, who’s still standing, staring at the gifts that Tami dropped off. 

“Hey,” Ian says softly, rubbing his shoulders, “You good, baby?” 

Mickey nods, “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just-you know-” 

Ian does know. Not only because Mickey told him how weird it is, how uncomfortable he gets when people do things like this for him-nice things-but also because Ian experiences it himself. Maybe not to the same degree as Mickey, but he’s seen the way Ian malfunctions when one of his friends gets him something nice. He knows he has the same sort of wary confusion when they get to have good things. 

Mickey leans into Ian’s touch, “Wanna go back to sleep.” 

Ian rests his chin in the crook of Mickey’s neck, turning his face to plant a kiss on his cheek, “We can do that, baby.” 

They go back to sleep until one, Ian wakes him again gently, whispering in his ear that they have to get up because Kev and Vee need help in the Alibi. 

“It’s my fucking birthday, they should helping me!” Mickey yelped as Ian poked his side. 

“Come on. The minute they’re done, we’ll come back here and sleep to your heart's content.” 

“So forever?” Mickey asked from underneath a pillow. 

Ian made an alarmed sound from the back of his throat, Mickey threw a pillow at his head, “Not like that, asswipe. Just tired today.” 

Ian nods, sympathetic despite Mickey’s attack, “I know, honey. I promised them we would both go. So get your birthday ass up.” 

Mickey does in fact get his ass up. After thirty more minutes of complaining, they’re off to the Alibi. 

Ian pulls up to the bar and parks right in front of the doors. Mickey’s about to get out when Ian grabs his arm, “Okay, cards on the table, we planned a surprise party for you.” 

Mickey tilts in his head, perplexed by Ian’s definition of surprise, “I don’t think you know how surprises work, lover.” 

Ian picks at the skin of his lip, his eyes narrowed at the hollow of Mickey’s throat, “I just know you don’t like surprises.” 

Mickey sits back in his seat, watching as Ian nervously gnaws at his chapped lips. They’ve had this talk before, mainly about Mickey’s sleeping. Ian’s learned from experience after sleeping in the same bed with him for five plus years that no one should ever shake Mickey awake. Or yell to wake him up. Or sneak up on him. Mickey’s always been hyper aware of his surroundings, it was never something he concerned himself with, ignoring the panic that reached up his throat with surprises. Though recently, Ian told him he has symptoms of PTSD rather than just being cautious. 

“Alright,” Mickey nods, “How many people?” 

“Just my family. I called Mandy but-” 

“She’s working, I know.” 

“She said happy birthday. Kev and Vee obviously. Tami,” Ian squirms in his seat like he’s nervous. 

“Right, well, can’t sit out here forever.” 

The minute they step into the bar, everyone screams surprise. 

Ian was right, that wouldn’t have been good for anyone had Mickey not known. 

“Uncle Mickey!” Franny screams and hugs his legs, “I made you a card!” She presents a card covered in glitter, depicting two stick figures holding guns and bags of money. 

For the second time today, Mickey has to stop himself from crying. Bending down to hug her, he pats her hair and tells her he loves it. 

“Uncle Ian helped!” 

“Did he now?” Mickey raises an eyebrow at his husband, who nods proudly at his niece. 

“Happy birthday, Mick!” Tami calls out, rocking Freddie in her arms. 

Mickey nods and immediately gravitates to the bar, sitting down next to Lip, who’s playing with Freddie’s fingers. 

Kev sets down a beer, “On the house for family, dude.” 

Mickey takes it, trying not to show his unease, he grumbles, “Thanks,” before turning his attention to Ian who’s bending down and talking to Franny and Liam. 

“Hey, Mickey,” Lip greets, distracted. 

“Yo,” Mickey’s about ready to comfortably sit in silence, just enjoying watching on the outskirts as his in-laws mingle. 

“Ian tell you about the party?” Lip asks nonchalantly. 

“Uh, yeah. Right before.” 

“Knew he would. While we were fucking putting it together, he-” 

“Wait, hold on,” Mickey interrupted him, “You helped plan this shit?” 

Lip deadpans, “Uh, yeah. Well, obviously Ian said he wanted to do something for your birthday but I figured we should have it here, you know. With family.” 

Family. 

He remembers the kitchen conversation, it feels like it happened so long ago. The sinking feeling in his stomach when Lip told him he wasn’t family. To a degree, he understood what he meant, but he still felt the words hit his chest like a bullet. 

“Thought I wasn’t family,” Mickey teases, watching as the realization dawns on Lip, recognition enveloping his eyes. 

“Shit, Mickey, that wasn’t-” Mickey cuts him off by waving a hand. 

“It’s alright, shithead. Don’t give a shit,” Mickey lies, he does give shit, many in fact, but he doesn’t need Lip knowing that. 

“Sure, but you are family, you know that, right?” Lip doesn’t make eye contact with him, just continues playing with his son's fingers.  

Mickey sits on the bar stool, trying to cope with the knowledge that all of these people-these stupid fucking Gallaghers and Balls and Tamiettis-care about him enough to throw him a surprise birthday party. 

His fucking family. 

Ian apparently takes notice of his discomfort and walks over to him, Franny on his hip, “Hey, you good?” With the hand that isn’t holding up a six year-old, he rubs his back, eventually resting his palm on the nape of his neck. 

Mickey nods, “It’s just a lot, man.” 

Ian nods, “I know. Do you wanna go?” 

Mickey shakes his head, staring at the sleepy Franny who buries her head into Ian’s shoulder, her cheek squished on his collarbone. 

“Nah, I’m good,” Mickey says as Franny stretches out her arms, opening and closing her fists. 

“You wanna go with Uncle Mickey instead?” Ian asks her. 

When she nods, he kisses the top of her head and passes her to Mickey. Ian giggles as Mickey’s eyes go wide then soften, his shoulders relaxing as Franny peacefully transitions from one Uncle to the next, blissfully unaware of Mickey’s internal panic. 

“Happy birthday, Mickey,” Ian kisses his cheek and leans into his side, sliding an arm around his torso. 

“I think it might be.”

[treesandtheirberries]

Dad!Harry talks to his daughter about her questioning sexuality

A/N: might make this into a blurb series? so presh. if you have any concepts around this, send them my way. 

wc: 2,249

June was Harry and Y/N’s first baby, their biggest accomplishment before they were soon having another child. June was currently 13, the awkward age of Middle School, puberty, and overall questioning of identity. Y/N and Harry wanted this weird stage to be a smooth transition. They always encouraged her to express herself, with clothes, in hobbies, with their conversations. Although their first child, they both felt as though they managed to get through the difficulties of becoming a parent easily (thanks to the massive amount of parenting books, from birth to adolescence, that Harry kept buying while June was still in the womb). 

Yet, there is only so much you can prepare your child for, and surely you can’t be there to guide them through every difficulty. Harry and Y/N weren’t sure if June would question her sexuality as both of them weren’t straight, they didn’t know if the process was the same for heterosexuals. But they never skirted around the topic. If anything, they encouraged watching same-sex couples in movies and such, even having many friends who had families with someone of the same gender (or a partner that was non-binary). 

Harry hoped that this would be an excellent way to acclimate their children to the varying diversity of the world. Y/N grew up with racial diversity, but anything deviant from heterosexuality or cisgender was heavily frowned upon. They hoped that with their lack of omission of the varying aspects of identity their children would have the opportunity to understand themselves easier rather than constantly question their identity. 

They forgot to take into account that this was simply a stage in adolescence they had to endure though, as Eric Erickson put it: a fight between identity and role confusion. And June was currently right at the center of it.

June, even as a child, was usually calm and they rarely had problems with her being fussy like they do with the twins, Mazzy and Mick (named after the artists constantly playing on their home turntable). Thus, any changes were quickly noticed in her behavior. 

-------

Picking up the kids from daycare and June from school was on the top of Y/N’s list of things to do for the day. She adored seeing everyone’s faces after a day at work and seeing their warm smiles and tight hugs always brightened her mood. 

Today, things seemed different. 

June jumped into the front seat with a grunt, a frown, and even went as far as throwing her bag onto the floor of the car forcefully. This was generally out of character, except Y/N and Harry have noticed these bursts of anger more recently. 

“What’s eating at ‘ya bug?” Y/N calmly asked, wanting to maintain a balance of emotions although knowing June was perhaps all over the place as most teenagers are. 

June rubbed her hands on the top of her thighs and noticeably took a few deep breaths; a calming tactic her father taught her when she was younger to calm herself. She took a few more breaths until facing her mother to talk. “Sage didn’t want to hang out this weekend,” she finishes, the frown being found on her face once again.

“Oh, is she busy? Thought you two were having a sleepover at home?” Y/N inquired. She knew Sage and her daughter were best friends since the beginning of sixth grade, and she hoped they would maintain their friendship although she knew the ups and downs adolescents faced it might not be possible.

“She said she’s going to the mall with Rye.”

“As in the bread?” Y/N chuckled, trying to lift the mood.

June rolled her eyes, another behavior that has risen in frequency. “No mom. A boy. That she likes.” She grumbled crossing her arms and sinking further into the seat.

“Oooooh I see what’s going on here, Sage is going on a date!” She rose her voice to a pitch of puppy love, which didn’t sit well with June. 

“We promised we wouldn’t date boys in Middle School. They’re all so stupid and ugly. I don’t get why she’s ditching me for him.” 

Y/N was a bit surprised by this. Harry and she have talked about the day they’d have to worry about June’s infatuation with others and they were dreading it. Hearing that June didn’t have interest in it now was a relief, but of course, this whole conversation was concerning. 

“I understand, not the nicest to make plans with someone when she already made some with you. But June-bug, you guys are teenagers. Of course, she’s going to take an opportunity to go on a date with a freaking boy!”

“Language momma!” Mick yelled, the three-year-olds’ well acquainted with naughty words.

“I guess. Just rude s’all.” June finished with another grumble. She wasn’t known for throwing huge fits, and her outbursts were usually this short. 

Still, Y/N knew that this would be something that would affect her for the rest of the week. Her daughter is calm but incredibly sensitive, and the two parents have learned how to work through her internal struggles. She decided to ask the usual question during June’s turmoils: “wanna talk to dad about it?” 

“Yes please.”

--------

Harry was finishing washing the plates as Y/N was getting the twins ready for bed. The small domestic moments like these reminded Harry of how lucky he was to have a family like his. He noticed June’s mood as soon as everyone entered the house, and once Y/N confirmed they would need to talk later, Harry was preparing himself to support his daughter through her problems. Y/N and he were definitely lucky with their firstborn being like June. Sometimes he’ll credit his efforts in teaching June meditation early, and depending on the day, Y/N agrees. 

As he dries the plates to put back in their cupboards, June walks in. 

“Hiya bug. C’mere give Poppa hug.”

June rolls her eyes (he’s having a hard time adjusting to these teenager habits) and walks closer to her father. Although she’s extremely close with both of her parents, there is a timeless connection she has with her father. “Not a child anymore dad. And please, do not call yourself poppa again. You’re not that old yet.” She mumbled in his chest, clearly needing the affection.

“Mom said you wanted to talk? Want her there?”

“Uhm. Maybe we could just talk in my room please.” 

“Of course, let me just put these plates all back” Harry smiled, only letting go of the hug once he felt June move away. A small trick he learned from his mother after she attacked him with countless parenting trips: never let go in a hug with your child, let them determine when the hug is over. It gives them more comfort and stability in their lives and although he saw this as minimal, he understood its significance.

“I’ll help.”

----

As they walked to June’s room, they caught Y/N walking back from the twins’ room. “Hey baby, twins are done for. I’ll be in the room. “ She pecks Harry quick on the lips and turns to June to wrap her in a hug. “Love you cutie,” she winks at June as she goes to her room.

“Love you momma” June smiles, happy that she has a supportive family like this one. 

“I’ll be there in a bit,” Harry smiles, his arm going back to June’s shoulders, giving it a squeeze. 

Once they get to her room, both take a seat on June’s bed. Her back is on the headboard while Harry sits at the edge facing her, cross-legged. Every once in a while June would request to speak to Harry, Y/N,  or both of her parents on the issues bothering her. Harry and Y/N were proud of having a daughter that felt comfortable enough to communicate with her parents, and they always were looking for new ways to enrich themselves with the issues kids have a different ages. 

“Speak to me June, what’s on your mind lady?” Harry starts, initiating the push. He can tell that she’s struggling to bring her thoughts to words.

“Did you....well. How did you ... realize you didn’t like ... uhm, just girls?” She hesitantly asked, too flustered to look at her father on such a strange topic. 

Oh, it’s happening, Harry thought. “Well, I was pretty young, I guess around your age, and I realized that I just wasn’t fully straight. It developed from there I guess, I talked to a few friends about it, spoke to your grandma, and eventually met a boy I really liked. It was really scary, I’m not going to lie, figuring out my feelings at that point. After that, it wasn’t a big deal and everyone in the family understood. I just knew something like gender wasn’t a big deal to me, and if I liked someone I liked them. But it’s different for everyone. Your mom can tell you how she found out she’s bi.”

June was soaking in the information her father gave her. She knew both of her parents weren’t straight, but hearing how they found it out was something entirely different. It wasn’t that she was foreign to the concept, but in personal terms, it was utterly confusing. 

She finally looked to her father, giving him a small smile at the personal information he shared. They were a very open family, but something about this felt even more personal. “But, did you ever think you were faking it?” 

“Not really, but you already know how pretentious your father is,” he chuckled, lighting the mood. “Your mother, as she’ll tell you, had a completely different experience. Said she struggled for years thinking she was either faking it or actually completely gay! She once told me that she just couldn’t disclose it with anyone, and that led her to a lot of contemplation. But if you’re feeling this way too, I need you to know your mother and I are here to support you in any way we can.”

“Dad,” June scrunched her eyes looking down at her crossed legs. “I think I might like girls. Or at least, I think. After Sage told me she’d ditched me I just realized I don’t like her just as a friend.” 

At this moment, tears began to form in her eyes from all the confusion. Instantly Harry brought her into aa encompassing bear hug, keeping her safe in his chest. It hurt him to see her going through this dilemma, the inter-workings of adolescents were never fun. 

“It’s just,” June suddenly choked on a sob, grasping her dad’s hoodie. Harry began to rub her back for support. “I like her I think. Like really like her dad. I don’t want her to date a boy, I want to date her. But she won’t like me and...I don’t know! Why did this have to happen to me!” She continued, clearly soaking his hoodie.

“Oh baby, please don’t ever think this is a bad thing. Sexuality is a spectrum, many of our friends are somewhere on it, and you already know Elizabeth and Mary are married. This is a beautiful thing to discover baby. But yes, I won’t lie to you, it’s going to be hard. There may be times you like someone who doesn’t like girls but bug, that’s simply life.”

“What if I am dad. I don’t know if I like boys at all.”

“Then you are. As simple as that. You can label how you feel or not, it’s all about what feels most comfortable to you. As you know, your mother and I will be here to support you in any way we can. If you like girls, so be it, you’re still our daughter and you know that. If you like boys, which I mean yuck,” he imitated a gagging noise, rising a laugh out of June “then okay. Both or everyone? It’s all okay bub. I do want you to think about it, It might take some time to accept it but we’re accepting you any way you are. You’re so beautiful and strong, and your sexuality doesn’t diminish that in any way.” He made sure to hug her tightly as he said this, expressing his full support. 

“Dad, thank you.” June exhaled, releasing herself to wipe her tears. 

“Of course, June. I’m so happy you were able to tell me this, I know it must’ve been hard.”

After a deep breath, June looked calmer after her small crisis. “I knew you guys would be okay with anything but it’s just, much harder than I expected to really like your friend who doesn’t like you.”

“It’s hard, so so hard. Ask your mum, seriously I swear she told me she also liked one of her friends at your age. Universal gay experience perhaps?” Harry pondered. 

June gave a small laugh to that. “Yeah, I’ll ask. I don’t want her to think I left her out of this, it’s just that I’ve heard about your sexuality in the media more.”

“Pesky things, but I understand. It was so hard for your mom in comparison to me. Do you want me to let her know first, is it okay that I let her know you might be questioning?” He gave her daughter a sincere inquisitive look, valuing consent over everything. 

“Yeah, of course. Probably talk to her tomorrow after we drop the twins off. I really appreciate it, dad.”

“No problem bug. Let’s get you tucked away.” 

__________ part 2

OH MY GOD this is my first I HOPE YOU LIKE. please any feedback would be so sexy. 

[bffhreprise]

Best Friend For Hire Reprise, 382

 “Slow down!” exclaimed Iris.  “Turn left just up ahead.”

 I nodded and complied.  She knew where her boss lived better than any of us, having never visited this suburb befored.  I probably would have missed the break in the endless fence had she not warned me, especially when I was trying to guess the cost of having a large amount of land next to a park in a pricey suburb.  To my surprise, the gate opened for us immediately.

 “He doesn’t care much for security, does he?” I teased, looking around to see if there was some sort of guard who would have opened the gate for us.

 “Mila watches everything, so there’s no need.  There are sensors and cameras all over the yard that let her know if anything is disturbed.” explained Iris matter-of-factly.

 I nodded, but my eyes were locked on our destination in the distance, barely visible through all of the rain.  I had considerably underestimated the size of this place.  I very much doubted that I could even afford to maintain the yard for very many years and could only guess that the property tax had to be immense.

 As my sons grew excited about the bushes, I looked over and stared for several seconds.  Every single bush along the long driveway had been carefully sculpted into characters that I recognized from video games my kids enjoyed.  I could only imagine the amount of time and number of people involved in such artwork, leading me to believe James spent even more on his yard annually than I originally had guessed.  Even the fountain—an immense, two-story affair that was very elaborately sculpted—was immaculate, showing no signs of wear or neglect.  James certainly knew how to make an impression.

 When we stepped inside, passing past two sets of double doors that opened for us, James was descending down one of the staircases which curved up to a balcony on the second floor.  “James!  Thank you for having us.  This is quite a place you’ve got here.  Sorry if we brought the storm.” I told him, gesturing to the weather outside.

 “There’s plenty to see.” he politely agreed.  “Thank you for accepting the invitation.  I thought you might be interested in seeing a little more about my company than most, since you seemed curious during the game.  Mick was supposed to stop by a while ago but apparently didn’t get the time.”

 “This place is awesome!” exclaimed Matt.

 “Sorry, James.” muttered Mick.

 “No need to apologize.  We’ll just review with your family today what I wanted to tell you before.” replied James, smiling at us.

 I suddenly found myself floating as a soft breeze blew at me from inside the mansion.  Looking to my sides, I saw that my family, save for my daughter, were also floating.

 Before I could do more than exclaim in surprise, James spoke up, telling us, “Magic is real, and your family can use it.”

 I stared at them, my mind trying to figure out how he was doing this.  Was this some elaborate prank using a new technology?  “Wh-What…” was all I managed to say before we were gently lowered to the ground.

 “You wanted to know what I was feeding my employees.  I train them physically, mentally, and in magical arts.  We didn’t use spells at the baseball game, but we have numerous advantages that are completely unfair.” explained James.  “For example, I can physically lift your family’s van, though using spells is easier to ensure I don’t compromise the frame.”

 I swore, feeling like I had been had, before my better judgement kicked in.  My family was currently at this boy’s mercy.

 James’ smile broadened as he said, “If you don’t mind coming out back, I’ll ask the wonderful gardener to demonstrate something people tend to grasp more easily.”  Not hearing any argument from us, he motioned for us to follow him and started telling us  “Mirabella and Mike can’t create the electrical discharges like the rest of you.  She has a different heritage, and Mike took after his mother.”

 “How could you possibly know that?” asked Mike in surprise.

 “My secretary ran a background check on Iris prior to her being hired, and she’s so thorough that I feel like she knows everything.  You wouldn’t believe how long she takes to brief me on things.” explained James as he glanced back at my son.  “My concern with Mick is that he and Iris tended to play games with their ability, which caught enough notice for my secretary to file it in the report.  There are some out there who prey on those with abilities such as yours, so being a little more cautious tends to be wise.”

 That sounded far too believable.  I probably should have chewed those two out more often, but I had never believed anyone would have noticed their antics.  “You claim you can lift cars, and you can obviously lift us.  What else can you do, James?” I asked, wanting a firmer handle on whom I was dealing with.

 “So many things, Dad.  James is like a wizard combined with an overly strong fighter from some fantasy novel.” insisted Iris from behind me.

 I glanced back at her, surprised at how serious she looked.

 “I’ve also learned to make a great cup of tea.  My wife can be picky.” insisted James.

 “What’s that smell..?” questioned Mike longingly.

 Now that he mentioned it, I didn’t recognize the smell either, though I was certain it was food.  My mouth was already watering.

 “We’re almost to the kitchen, and Marco’s making you quite the treat.  I’m sure he won’t mind us passing through.  Just be prepared for a few samples.” encouraged James.

 The kitchen was as large as was fitting a house this size, and even there the fanciful engravings didn’t yield.  Every cabinet was beautifully carved, as were the very large table and chairs.

 Marco, the chef, was extraordinarily eager for us to sample “a few things” before we moved onward, despite assuring us that dinner would be ready soon.  Only when James pointed out there was more for us to see before dinner did Marco give way, giving us permission to pass through his kitchen into the garden beyond.

 The rain didn’t reach us as we followed James outside, hitting some invisible barrier and sliding away.

 “I don’t suppose you worry about getting struck by lightning.” I commented as I watched the sky.

 “Worried, no, but I didn’t find that to be pleasant either.” he told me sincerely.

 I stared at him, my eyes searching for any sign that he had ever been struck, but I found nothing, save for how confident he seemed.  

 “If your magic were stronger, you’d actually be able to guide a lightning bolt around you.  Iris has practiced enough that she could knock an assailant down with just the shock.” he commented, making me glance back at my daughter.

 “You can?” questioned Mick excitedly.

 She nodded, grinned, and said, “Yep, though I could take you in a fight without one.”  

 “All trained up now, are you?” questioned Mark, my eldest son.

 Iris laughed, shaking her head.  “You wouldn’t believe the standards here.”

 “I take it that James is the strongest, being the boss.” suggested Mike.

 James shook his head and said, “Not even close.”  Then he pointed to a fortress in the distance and asked “Do you see the keep over there?”

 I nodded along with a couple of my sons.

 “The strongest best friend created that with a stray thought.” claimed James.

 “What!?  No way!” exclaimed Mike.

 Nodding, James said, “She showed up in my office to tell me that she ‘oopsed’ a second after.  She’s been training recently to avoid that type of mistake.  I imagine she’ll be capable of creating a large city in a day on a whim within a few years.  I’d probably spend at least a week on a small town, and that’s if I collected the resources ahead of time.”

 I found the idea mind-boggling.  James seemed humble as he claimed that he could create a small town in a week.

 “You’d take at least a month, man-sla-... er… boss?” announced Emma, turning the statement into a question at the end.  “You get too distracted.  I could handle a village in an hour!”  She was soaked, but grinning.

 Before my eyes, the water soaking her clothes drifted away to join the rain outside.

 “Emma, I’m sure you remember Iris’ father, Grayson.  This is her mother, Mirabella.  From oldest to youngest, her brothers are Mark, Mick, Mike, and Matt.  Everyone, this is my gardener, Emma.”

 “Shouldn’t I be your favorite gardener?” she asked teasingly.

 “Sure.” he conceded.

 “Hear that?  I’m his favorite!” she exclaimed proudly.

 “Do you create villages with a stray thought?” questioned Mike.

 “Nah.  I do this.” she replied, watching us all.  After a couple seconds, wooden buildings rose out of the ground between the garden and the keep.

 “Mine would have functional electricity, plumbing, and the other luxuries people expect these days.” argued James with a smile.

 She stuck her tongue out at him.  Then she said, “My plumbing would work if I created a water tower.  Plants can be very good at guiding water.  As for electricity, I’ve been talking with Jarod about ways to generate a current with plants.  We have plans and stuff!”

 “You mean he had a crazy idea and chatted your ear off.” suggested James.

 “I thought the idea was cool and agreed to try eventually!” she insisted.

 “The idea was actually Maxine’s.  She has some experience with bioengineering from when she considered creating a cyborg army.” corrected Mila, who had discretely joined us without me noticing.

 “You can create cyborgs!?’ questioned Matt excitedly.

 “There has been some tech created here which could be used toward that end, but we’re not experimenting on people.” explained James.

 “I didn’t know you were in the tech industry.” commented my wife.

 James smiled at her and diplomatically told her “My company dabbles in many things to help prepare our best friends for a very large variety of jobs.”

 Grinning, Emma said, “He means to say ‘Yes.  Yes, we are.’  Mua ha ha ha ha!”  She drummed her fingers together while obviously attempting to look like some comic book villain.

James sighed and said, “Emma, mind getting rid of your starter village and showing the Storms how you help the kitchen?”

 “Fiiiine,” she begrudgingly told him, “but I might use some buildings to compliment the topiary when I change things up again.”

 “Sounds fun.” he agreed.

 From there, she started demonstrating how she could make the plants grow, revert to seeds, or provide as much food as she wanted.  She could also force plants to grow beyond their normal proportions and control them as easily as she controlled her own limbs, which led her into demonstrating how she had produced the bats her team had used for our baseball game.  Before she seemed remotely ready to quit demonstrating her abilities, Mila announced that food was ready.

 Instead of eating at the long table in the kitchen, we were taken to a large dining hall with an even more elaborate table.  There were already carts of food waiting nearby, and Mila urged us to help ourselves, since no one here would hesitate when they arrived.

 As we ate, we were entertained with more demonstrations of magic from those who had joined us.  James’ wife, Alma, created elaborate displays of fire and ice.  Ai and Mai created a sort of play with tiny figures made of water acting out their parts just above the table.  Jemal fetched more food for the particularly hungry using nothing but his magic, causing whatever was requested to float through the air.  James himself demonstrated illusions, making us see whatever he wanted while assuring us the magic the others had used was real.  Whether because I had felt myself being lifted earlier or because he had no reason to lie, I believed him.  Iris’ boss was the most interesting, and perhaps the most dangerous, man I had ever met.

[billiebeanhoward]

Silence - Multi Character

A/N: hello this has been an enormous project for me to do. Thanks for @stayevildarling for the prompt and for the help with this. Apologies, it's a long one. Tenses are a bit fucked but just go with it.

Prompt: Each character receives a mysterious invitation to visit a Hotel Cortez in LA to prove they're not alone in their struggles

TW: alcohol, mention of murder / death, cigarettes, swearing, mention of character death, hints at suicidal ideation,

Word Count: 4480

Tag list: @stayevildarling @okpaulson @mrsdeanhoward​

Working at Kineros Robotics for the vast majority of her life, nothing really fazed Wilhemina anymore. Especially with the bullshit her bosses come up with daily, but when the redhead finds a strange invitation on her desk that morning, she never thought her life could get any stranger. The invitation that was written, well, typed, on very fancy looking stationary, held coordinates to a Hotel she never wanted to visit in her existence, but when she sees there is a list of nine other women's names, she assumes they're women, anyway; It piques her curiosity regardless and later that evening takes the rest of the weekend off work so she can drive the few hours to the Hotel.

Never been one for tardiness, the redhead arrives a mere twenty minutes early, the receptionist with ridiculous glasses asking her if she had booked a room to which she banged her cane and left towards the bar without a word.  Conversation, socialising has never really been her strong suit, you can really blame her mother for that. She had been isolated from the outside world for most of her life growing up. Thinking back, she's glad for it. People are despicable. The bar isn't too shabby, not that she could complain, dark, quiet, she quite enjoys the ambience. Her cane clanks, hitting off the floor as she makes her way over to the bartender.

"And what can I get you, this fine evening?" she, she assumes, smiles politely. Nice enough.

"Anything purple?" her nose scrunched at the ridiculous request that leaves her mouth and she scolds herself silently moments before the bartender points a finger at her.

"You know what? I have just the thing," she turns around to pour the drinks, Wilhemina watching her every move, "So what brings you here?"

"Is that any of your business?"

"Oh, no, not at all." she shakes her head, "Enjoy your drink," Wilhemina eyes the mysterious neon concoction in front of her momentarily, before spotting a straw holder in the corner of her eyes and she reaches out to grab one when a hand grazes over her own.

"Oh, sorry," a British woman with a blonde pixie cut says quickly, pulling her hand away. "You look familiar, do I know you from anywhere?"

"No, I assure you, you don't."

The blonde put the green straw into her whiskey? before sipping it, "My name's Audrey, Audrey Tindall. I know what you're thinking..." Does this woman ever shut up? "I'm not related to the royal Tindalls, no."

"Did I ask?" Wilhemina cocks her head a little towards her and she quickly shies away, "Get out of my sight," The blonde scurries off to the other end of the bar while Wilhemina tries to enjoy her drink.

-

"Mom, what's this?" Ally looks over her shoulder, her arms elbow-deep in her sink as she washes up the dishes from dinner.

"Not sure, Ozzy. Can you read it for me, Sweetheart?"

"To whom it may concern, You are not alone.

34.0443° N, 118.2508° W

Ally, Audrey, Bette, Billie, Cordelia, Dot, Karen, Lana, Sally, Wilhemina. What does it mean, Mom?"

Ally empties the sink and clears away the dishes before wiping her hands on a towel, "I really don't know, does it say anything else? Give it here," she holds her hand out and he passes it to her as she studies it curiously.

-

"Karen!" The woman turns her head towards the door at her friend with a little smile on her face, "Guess who has mail?"

Her eyes widen in anticipation, "No, you're joking! Me?"

"Of course you! Open it." Mickey smiles as he passes it to her. She excitedly rips open the envelope, careful enough not to destroy the contents and unfolds the paper curiously. "Well, What does it say?"

"A bunch of numbers and names, Mick I think this is just junk,"

"No, Karen, the first mail you get in years, it can't be junk. Let me see," she passes it to him and in the dimness of the room, he looks at the letter. "They seem to be coordinates for somewhere,"

"Like for treasure?"

"Exactly, well, you never know, but could be someone who wants to murder you for all we know. But look, it says You are not alone."

"Course I'm not alone, fuck face, I have you."

-

Cordelia sets aside her paperwork for the evening, cradling a cup of hot coffee in her hands, she sighs as she takes a look at the monstrous pile of work ahead. She nudges her glasses further up her nose as the door of her office swung open. "Madison, how many times have I told you to knock?"

The younger blonde rolled her eyes as her arms crossed against her chest, "And why would I do that?"

"I could have been doing... something." the Supreme says before taking a sip from her coffee.

"When exactly was the last time you got laid, Cordy?"

This time the Supreme rolls her eyes before glaring at the younger witch, "And when was the last time you got laid, Maddy?" she snaps back, Madison slumps her shoulders, the smirk that graced her lips disappearing quickly, "What do you want?"

"I forgot to give you this when the mail came this morning," she absentmindedly threw a letter down on the desk before storming out.

Cordelia once again rolled her eyes at the girl, eyeing the mysterious envelope before picking it up.

-

Wilhemina looks down at the watch on her wrist whilst trying to figure out who exactly she's supposed to be meeting. The bar is seemingly quiet, and she stays seated at the stools near the bartender, Liz, who had told her her name, although she definitely didn't ask. Liz is a talker and a very annoying one at that, although Wilhemina is quite enjoying her company right now, or rather lack of as she attends to other women at the bar. A thought enters her mind at that moment, the name Audrey did ring bells, although not any ridiculous royal ones. She pulls the letter out of her blazer pocket and adjusts the glasses on her nose. There. The second name. Audrey. Was that her? Great. Now she does have to actually go off and talk to the chatterbox. She rolls her eyes before sighing, picking up her cane as she makes her way over to where Audrey is sitting, she seems to be sitting next to a brunette who did look quite familiar.

"Oh, hey!" Audrey greets, getting up from her place at the booth seemingly for Wilhemina to seat next to her. Wilhemina quickly turns around grabbing a chair from behind her and drags it to towards the table closer to the brunette instead, "Oh," the blonde says before pulling out a packet of cigarettes from her purse. "Do you mind?"

"I do actually, yes," Wilhemina says and the brunette turns to her.

"Are you here because of the letter as well?" Wilhemina nods and the other woman brings out her hand towards her for her to shake it, "I'm Ally, Ally Mayfair-Richards?"

"You're the one that was in that cult weren't you?" Wilhemina says. This has got to be the most interesting thing that has happened all night.

"Oh." Ally pulls her hand away looking around slightly awkwardly, "So you don't know me from my senator work? How did you know about the -"

"I saw it on this silly show I watched on the True crime channel."

"Right. So must know a lot about me then," she sips from her wine and Audrey annoyingly, despite Wilheminas dismissal, lights up a cigarette. "What's your name."

"Wilhemina Venable."

"Oh your name is Wilhemina, it's such a -"

"I'd prefer to be referred to only as Ms. Venable." Fine. Wilhemina has now made this awkward, thanks mouth. Change the subject. "Seven more women to find," she states, looking at the two, her hand gripped tightly around her cane. "Is this some sort of gangb-" Nope. "Right, I'm going to get another drink, excuse me."

"Sally that girl, what can I get you?" Liz asks a blonde that is definitely stuck in the '90s. Her hair is fully crimped, her outfit choice, however, is far more ridiculous, fishnet tights, a very short skirt, revealing shirt. Stop staring.

"The usual," she mumbles before diverting her attention back to the woman beside her. "So, are you from Tennessee? You're the only ten I see," Wilhemina almost spits her drink out as she hears the conversation between the two.

"No actually, I'm from Massachusetts." the brunette says, nodding slightly, clearly slightly uncomfortable.

"Oh, it's pretty close though, right."

"No you blonde idiot, it's a 17-hour drive," Wilhemina says and the blonde turns to look at her and this time she looks at her face.

"Did I ask you?"

"No, course not. I just like correcting idiots,"

"Well, I'm sorry we all couldn't afford to go to private schools," the blonde then storms off somewhere else, Wilhemina genuinely doesn't care. The brunette, however, slides closer over to Wilhemina.

"Thank you," she smiles.

Wilhemina's face turned to one of a fish, "What for?" The other woman continued sipping from her drink before leaning a little too close for comfort to Wilhemina before taking a deep breath.

"Is this.." she pauses, Wilhemina only furrows her brows at her, "Is this a 'girl' bar?" she asks curiously, "I'm only asking because..."

"Good question," the redhead smiles as she looks around the room, only women are seated, mainly bundled together with Ally and Audrey," Maybe this woman is one of the names on the list too. "Surely hope not," she mumbles. She doesn't want to make conversation but it seems she needs to. "What brings you here?" she continues to drink the nuclear waste that Liz calls a drink and looks at the brunette. She seems familiar too.

"I... This is going to sound really weird."

"Not as weird as that, I assure you," she points behind her and the brunette turns around to see a woman with two heads walk through the door with the frizzy blonde talking to them.

"Probably just as... How is that possible? That's fascinating." The brunette brings up her purse and pulls out a notepad."I'm a writer, you may have read my book. It's quite popular among women." She speaks but Wilhemina isn't listening. Distracted by the definition of fucking weird that just entered the room.

"You girls here for the "meeting"?" the frizzy blonde asks them and the head on the left nods. Creepy.

"Nice," she grabs a cigarette, it hanging from her mouth lazily as she spoke. Ok, so far there are Audrey, Ally, writer girl, the one Liz called Sally, the two-headed beast... Wilhemina looks around and spots another blonde speaking to Audrey and Ally. So extra blonde. And a homeless woman sitting at the back end of the bar.

"If you're here for the meeting, come over here!" extra blonde calls out over to her table and Wilhemina rolls her eyes, her cane clanking loudly as she walks over to the table. "I'm Cordelia Goode. Supreme of my coven in New Orleans."

"Ally Mayfair-Richards, I came here from Maine. Had to find a babysitter before I drove all the way here,"

"Audrey Tindall. Had to get a flight back from England."

"Lana, Lana Winters." the writer girl added.

"Wait.." three heads turn to her. "How is that possible?" Ally spoke.

Lana shrugged, an uncomfortable smile gracing her lips, "What do you mean?"

"You're... young?"

"Oh, wow, am I that old?"

"I- no of course not."

"What's that?" Wilhemina turns her head towards the left of the beast as she stares down at Sally's cellphone.

"Oh, come on I've been stuck here since the nineties and even I know what it is." she rolls her eyes.

The right one furrowed her brows. "90s?"

The two of them stared into space for a moment, their expressions changing every so often as if they're in a conversation and Wilhemina shakes her head and diverts her attention to the homeless one toddling over to the rest of the group. She looks paranoid, looking over her shoulders as if someone is following her.

"The rest of the introductions?" Audrey says, bringing the letter out and Lana handing her a pen from her purse before she ticks off the names of people here. "What's your name, sweetheart?" she asks the homeless one but she doesn't answer, peeking into the massive tote bag on her shoulder before Wilhemina hits her ankle with her cane to gain her attention.

"I'm not telling you my name. I don't even know who you are," she states

"Why are you sitting with us then?" the right one says before the homeless one gives them a look.

"I know people like you, fuck faces, huge assholes," she mutters

"I'm Dot, this is Bette, "Right one says almost headbutting the other

"I can introduce myself, Dot,"

Dot turns her head to look at her, "Well you were taking your sweet time,"

"Okay, we're only missing Billie and Karen."

Sally chuckles, her cigarette still hanging from her mouth, "That's definitely Karen," she points over to a blonde with wavy hair, pink blouse, pearl necklace and a pencil skirt and fake nails. "I actually thought you were Karen until you said your name is Audrey," she looks to Audrey and Wilhemina purses her lips trying to stifle her laugh.

Audrey looked offended as if someone ran over her mothers already dead body. Her nostrils flaring as she leans over the table towards Sally, "And what do you mean by that?"

Before anything happens and all hell breaks loose in the Hellmouth they already were in, the homeless one squeaks up. "I'm Karen."

That's it. Wilhemina laughed. "What's so funny?" Cordelia asks the redhead who continued chuckling as she tried to drink her acid.

"Nothing, continue."

Lana finally pieces the puzzle together, "That's Billie."

"Congratulations, would you like a gold star. I'm sure Mommy senator here has plenty for you." Wilhemina chuckled at her own joke because it was funny. The other women did laugh too. Billie made her way over somewhat gracefully, her hands flaring as if she's trying to pick up a watermelon. Karen probably has one hidden in that Mary Poppins bag of hers.

"Good evening, girls. I'm Billie Dean Howard, Medium to the stars." she flutters her fingers around like one of those stupid ASMR videos that Wilhemina has not ever watched before and took a seat beside Bette and Dot.

"Were you the one who sent the letters?" Bette asked, her fingers fiddling with the hem of the dress she shared? with Dot before Dot slapped her fingers away.

"No, I assume you're all here for the same thing. As am I. Unfortunately, it had to be here though,"

Cordelia sighs, shifting uncomfortably in her seat seeming to know what the hell Billie was actually talking about. "I know, it's like they're screaming in the walls."

Liz comes over handing Billie her drink while giving a pointed look towards Sally, "What? I didn't kill everyone here, y'know."

"Your reputation says otherwise." she turns to the rest of the group, "Enjoy your stay,"

"Does anyone actually know what this is about... Wait I know you, I've seen your face on the side of a bus," Audrey says excitedly

"And I know you, Ms Audrey Tindall. Making a big name for yourself I see after My Roanoke Nightmare." Billie smiles at her and Wilhemina gives a look of impressive to the two blondes.

"Oh god don't. My shrink is still drilling it into my head that it wasn't real."

"What wasn't?" Lana asks curiously, her notepad in hand as she continued to write notes.

"You haven't seen the show?"

"What show?"

Wilhemina diverts her attention towards Ally's and Cordelia's conversation although it seemed to be about cheating exs so then she focuses on what Dot, Bette and Sally were saying.

"It's 1952 where you're from?" Okay, now that is interesting. "How did you get here?" Sally points her phone in their faces.

"Can you please get that thing out of our faces! It's scary," Bette says,

"We killed our mother and you're saying that's scary." Fine. She stood up and made her way to Karen.

"Don't want to talk to you." she mumbled, seemingly comfortable slightly curled up in the seat.

"I don't want to talk to you either." Hmm, maybe the homeless one isn't too bad after all.

After a few extra drinks, everyone seems to be in a better mood, laughing, joking, much to Wilhemina's dismay, and even still trying to make conversation with her. Which she has done. Gotten to reluctantly know more about those with who she was almost forcefully made to be made acquaintances. Sally stood up on the chair, wobbling slightly as she tries to regain her balance. "Ladies, Unfortunately, Liz is closing up for the night." most women whined but Wilhemina was genuinely happy she finally got to go home. Was this it? What exactly was this about? "But... We can take this party up to my room,"

Wilhemina almost growled to herself, the thought of being at home a lot more comfortable than being in a hotel room with nine other women. All women stood up and followed Sally to the elevators. Billie and Cordelia following behind as they chatted.

Wilhemina slowed her pace a little mainly because she felt like her back couldn't handle it but also because she wants to know what the two blondes are talking about. "If the letters weren't really from you, then who was it?" Cordelia asks

"I genuinely thought it was you, dear. Seems like a 'you' thing to be bringing in people of all backgrounds, especially lonely ones at that,"

"I'm not lonely. You don't even know me." Karen pipes up defensively, still holding her bag close.

"No, not at all." Billie shakes her head, "But I do know when one is feeling lost and doesn't know how to get back up," she says before rushing off to get to the others.

Wilhemina's steps slowed as she enters the elevator, not one for taking the stairs. She opens her mouth but Cordelia is quick to speak, "I like your hair," the redhead raises an eyebrow at the blonde, a hint of a blush rising on her cheeks.

"You're drunk, Ms. Goode,"

"Oh, please. Call me Cordelia. I'm nothing like my mother." she says before her expression turns somewhat sorrowful. Her mouth opened, slightly agape seeming as she wants to speak but she doesn't. So Wilhemina decides it's humane of her to change the subject.

"You know Ms. Howard?" she looks down at the floor, the elevator dinging indicating their arrival on the floor where Sally's room is located.

"Oh yes, she's not a witch though," the blonde slightly stumbles out, almost tripping on her heels when Wilhemina rolls her eyes reaching her arm out to catch her.

"I didn't ask," she states, although she is due for another awful round of dosed up fuckery that is her medication she fights through it, tries to anyway. Liz's miracle drinks seem to be working fine as an atomic type of painkiller. She allows Cordelia to loop her arm around her shoulder, hers around the blonde's waist as they walk down the hallway towards the room Karen just strangely snuck into as if she's there on a heist.

"You know of my story then?" Lana asks seemingly gobsmacked towards the other women, "And not from my book, from my talk show? One I don't even have yet?"

"How exactly did you get here?" Audrey asks curiously as she sits down on the bed, crossed legged like an elementary school child.

"I received the letter, like the rest of you. I took the train. Fell asleep, woke up at the station and everything was different but I couldn't really explain it. Then I asked around about the coordinates and someone guided me to this hotel."

"The same thing happened to us," Bette smiled at her but Dot was quick to scold her

"Don't listen to my idiot of a sister, we've never been on a train in our lives. We woke up, found the note at the foot of our bed and started to get ready for our show."

"Show?" Billie asks before closing her eyes for a brief moment. "Does the name Eudora mean anything to you?"

"We work fo-" Bette starts

"No, absolutely not. Bette, we're leaving."

"But we've been having so much fun, Dot."

"No,"

"She says she forgives you."

Tears well up in both their eyes for a moment as they sit back down on the bed. Wilhemina slowly helps Cordelia sit down on the armchair beside them and awkwardly perches on the arm of said chair.

"She forgives you Bette for what you did but," she closes her eyes before facing Dot, "She doesn't forgive you for what you tried to do to your sister."

An awkward silence filled the room, only to be heard are the sniffles from the twins and the lighting up of cigarettes before Sally broke the silence, "You know, I would probably do anything to have a sister and you tried to kill her?" Dot looks away ashamedly.

Bette, sweet Bette, she seems so childlike, she just smiles, "I would do anything to make my Dot happy,"

"I would rather kill myself than let anyone treat me the way she treats you." Sally rolls her eyes "And I'm dead," she brings her hand to the side of her mouth as if she's revealing a huge secret.

"At least she's not alone," Ally says, sipping on more wine. "I'd do anything for my son, the way Bette clearly would for her sister."

"And let her kill herself?" Audrey remarks, "That's not love."

"Wouldn't you kill for love? Fight for others."

"I'd rather be a lover than a fighter, because all my life, I've been fighting." Lana says, "I've lost the love of my life and had been through so much I ca-" tears escape her eyes and Audrey curls up beside her, wrapping an arm around her frame.

Karen opened her mouth wanting to speak, most of them probably expecting her spewing profanities but instead, her face was calm, "I've never felt a feeling of comfort. All this time, I've been hiding. Where I'm from the stupid fuckfaces who live there..." There we go. "All they do is just think I'm some mad homeless woman -"

"Aren't you?" Wilhemina blurts out, a smirk gracing her lips and Karen glares at her.

"That's not the point, you fucking, purple, fucking, dragon bitch."

Wilhemina tilts her head, impressed with the insult. "Carry on."

"I don't want to anymore."

"I never had someone to call my own," Bette says, her usual smile now a frown as she fights back her own tears

"I'm so used to sharing." Dot mutters, looking down at her fingers. Billie reaches out to hold their hands to comfort them.

"Love only left me alone," Audrey says,

"I've found peace in the violence, can't tell me there's no point in trying," Sally says, cigarette hanging from her mouth as she speaks, mascara running down her face

Wilhemina thinks it's her turn to speak, Cordelia looking at her intently from the seat. "I'm in need of a saviour," it feels like she confessed her deepest darkest secrets. Words she would have never thought she would say out loud to anyone. She sees Billie lift her head as if to speak "But I'm not asking for favours," she says, Billie nods understandingly.

"My whole life, I've felt like a burden," Cordelia pipes up, her chin quivering as she spoke. "I think too much, and I hate it"

Ally pulls a small face, finishing her wine before she spoke, "I'm so used to being in the wrong. I'm tired of caring."

"Loving never gave me a home" Karen speaks again, probably feeling a lot more comfortable with the group now. Which is surprising as she acted as if they would kill her.

"I'll sit here in the silence," Billie says. She hadn't said anything. She gave a small smile before lighting up a cigarette. Wilhemina only groans, now her clothes probably stank worse than an ashtray at the amount the four women had smoked like a chimney. "I'm at one with myself. I've been quiet for so long."

There's silence for a few moments. Not uncomfortable at all, surprisingly. Although plenty of tears, small sobs escaping and a few hugs. This was needed. Everyone felt seen, even in the silence of the room. They felt heard. They all understood and could relate one way or another to each other and, maybe the letter was right. You are not alone.

But the one question is... who was the one who had sent it?

Maybe someone out there who cared enough for each woman individually and knew their struggles maybe even up to a personal extent. Maybe whoever sent it just wanted the women to know that they are loved and people do care.

Maybe it was you.

-

The night was slowly coming to an end, the women started to say their goodbyes when Lana had an idea, "Sally?"

Sally lifted her head from where it lay on Cordelia's shoulder as the two blondes were almost fast asleep. "Hmm?" Wilhemina stood, collecting her cane ready to leave but Cordelia's hand stopped her, grabbing onto the hem of her blazer.

"Give me your cell number, I have an idea." the brunette gave Sally the pen and paper and Sally wrote her number down, passing it back. "If I remember you'd hear from me again," then the brunette vanished. Magic tricks aside, most of the women were either too drunk or half-asleep to even react. Sally's phone began ringing loudly, Wilhemina picked it up, disgusting fluffy case in hand as Sally snatches it from her.

"Hello?"

"Sally? It's me, Lana. Put me on speaker." the familiar yet different voice said. The women looked, Wilhemina observing from the door until she noticed Bette and Dot aren't there either.

"Lana, it's you?" Audrey says, tears in her eyes, "God I've missed you." It's been less than two minutes you dramatic blonde. Wilhemina rolls her eyes as Lana chuckles down the phone.

"I've missed you too, Audrey. It's been fifty-five years since I had last heard your voice."

Wilhemina, now confused, was ready to leave. She pried the sleepy blonde away and left. On the way back to her home, she magically bumped into Billie. "What do you want?" she almost snapped.

"We're wondering if you'd like to meet back up at the hotel again next week." the blonde smiles, of course, cigarette in hand. Wilhemina sighed, as much as she hates to admit it she really did enjoy the company in comparison to her lonely nights at home in the silence.

"Okay," she says, Billie, raising an eyebrow at her expectantly.

"Okay? That was easy,"

"Don't think it'll be any easier than this, Ms. Howard, I'm a busy woman."

"Hm, I'm sure."

"If Ms. Winters is.. a woman of age now, What happened to the Tattlers?" Wilhemina asks out of curiosity, Billie purses her lips as she thinks of an answer.

"They're gone. They're at one with the silence."

"Good night, Ms. Howard." Wilhemina opens the door to her car.

"Good night, Ms. Venable," Billie says but Wilhemina can literally hear the smile that's on her lips as she says it. "Oh, Cordelia wants me to give you her cell," Billie hands the redhead her number through the crack of the window. "Then you don't have to be at one with the silence for so long. Neither of us do. We have each other now, just remember that. All thanks to Y/N."

[sp00kyjellybeans]

Constant Pining [Mickey Altieri x reader]

A/N: part two because i think the last one deserves a follow up :> For this one, I decided to play with the fact that Mickey is a film student, so I kind of figured he would use it to his advantage. btw tho this feels super choppy and cheesy in the bad way so idk how to feel ab it:’) pls lmk what you guys think bc i might rewrite it and cut half of this out

Word Count: 3,425

Warnings: None, this is like... super fluffy

---

It had been two weeks since the party and it was driving Mickey insane. He wasn’t sure what was worse. The fact that life carried on as usual or the fact that you were completely unfazed. He would have preferred if you were all over him or, hell, if you were avoiding him.

Because then he would know how you feel.

But he didn’t. The poor guy hadn’t the slightest clue. Life went on nonetheless. Some days he was able to sit next to you in Psychology (if Halley didn’t try kicking him out of her seat) and the two of you were normal during friend settings. But you never showed up to another party.

Mickey gnawed at his pencil. It was whittled down to practically nothing. He was supposed to be focused on a project that he and Randy were assigned in Film Theory but instead... You were on his mind.

“Can you stop eating that pencil and quit thinking about (Y/n)!” Randy threw a small notebook at Mickey’s head. Mickey snapped out of his daze and easily dodged it. “We need to work on this shit together. I don’t need (Y/n) clouding my camera man’s mind.”

“I’m not even-”

“Save it. You’ve been making the same face for two weeks straight now. It’s the (Y/n)-face. Sid and I coined it.”

Mickey muttered a curse word under his breath and reached for the notebook that was thrown at him. It was Randy’s film book. He flipped through some pages. It was filled with notes for class and film-analysis. Half of the analyses weren’t even assigned for class.

“What are we doing for this again?” Mickey rolled his eyes and threw the notebook onto a table. He propped up his feet and leaned back in his chair. 

The two boys were in a conference room of the film school. A chalkboard had been dirtied with Randy’s ideas for their film project while Mickey was mentally vacant for the time being. The project was to make a movie, each group was assigned a different genre. They were content with being partners, seeing as Randy had the ideas and Mickey had a knack for cinematography. 

“We were assigned to do a documentary.”

“Fucking lame... Everyone else got cool shit. I heard Terry Pusher was assigned fantasy... Fucking fantasy.”

“I know, hell I’d take a love story over this shit,” Randy threw the piece of chalk at the board. 

Mickey paused and sat up. His expression was twisted as if he were onto something. 

“Wait... say that again...”

“I’d take a love story over this shit?” Randy tilted his head.

Mickey stood to his feet and pointed at his geeky friend, an excited expression was evident.

“Exactly.”

The sea of students stormed past you. Your final class of the day ended early so you were more than eager to get back to your dorm. Your roommate was gone for the weekend so hopefully some quiet would get your mind off of Mickey.

The events of the party had been bouncing around the walls of your mind ever since it happened. A part of you thanked Halley for stepping in when she did and a part of you cursed her for it.

You couldn’t fathom dating Mickey. It was unheard of. New. Exhilarating. He was probably one of the hottest guys on campus and he had his hands on your waist.

Sure, he was a total nerd when it came to movies, especially for Tarantino films, and you could listen to his rants for hours, but the thought of him wanting you made your heart skip a beat. If he reciprocated any sort of feelings you’d be sent into cardiac arrest. Did he like you? Was that even possible?

He could have anyone at this school. He knew it, too. But it was possible he could choose you.

Before you were able to expand on that thought, a camera was shoved into your face. 

“And here we have the wonderful, the amazing, the magnificently stunning (Y/n)!” Mickey’s voice imitated a sports announcer. 

His sudden appearance was enough to make your cheeks go ablaze. 

“What are you doing?” You winced and shielded your face.

Randy appeared behind Mickey, “Film project, you’re a part of it!”

“Puh-lease, if anything, they are the star of the film, Meeks!”

You continued to walk to your dorm in hopes of avoiding the nerds but in all honesty, you were smiling like an idiot. 

“What’s it about?” You asked.

Mickey put the camera down for a second and eyed Randy. Luckily, he knew exactly what to say, or rather, what not to say.

“We’re making a documentary. We’re following around a few students, and you’re one of them. Will you watch it when it comes out?”

“Of course,” You grinned. “Just... don’t follow me everywhere with that thing.”

And follow you, they did. 

The very next morning you opened your door to Mickey holding up the blocky piece of tech. He was grinning behind the lens, which forced you to do the same. But you made it a point to shove the camera away. 

This went on for weeks. Mickey would ambush you with his camera everywhere. Meaning that you two were spending more time together. It didn’t matter if you were in the cafeteria or spending the night with your friends. He always managed to film little tidbits of you. 

At first, you would push the camera away or hide your face behind a nearby pillow. 

Then you and Mickey started to hang alone together more often. You found yourself seeking out time with him. Mickey walked you to classes (still filming you with the camera but you didn’t push it away anymore; you just ignored it), he visited you at work and stopped by your dorm frequently. 

Eventually, he had the courage to trap you into a date. 

“Why are you covering my face, Mickey? I know where the cafeteria is...” You groaned, aimlessly walking forward.

“That’s not where we’re eating today.”

“You had no reason to make that sound threatening, Micks... You suck at surprises.”

“Yeah, yeah, you can open your eyes now.”

You opened your eyes to a sprawled out assortment of food on a picnic blanket. 

It was a typical picnic blanket sat under one of the largest trees on campus. It was wide and comfortable. Mickey thought to bring plenty of drinks too. The look on your face filled him with glee as you studied the setting in front of you.

Just last week both of you were talking about your favorite underrated scenes in a romance movie. His answer was the kissing scene in Titanic, but you argued that wasn’t underrated. Your answer was the picnic scene in Armageddon.

Mickey managed to make it come true. If it were sunset, it would have hit the nail on the head.

“Oh my...”

“Do you like it?” Mickey jumped into your line of vision, he looked hopeful. “You said you’ve never been to a picnic before when you mentioned Armageddon and... well that’s just a part of the American dream so I figured- ‘Hey, they shouldn’t miss out on something so fun and peaceful’ so... I made it happen.”

Mickey’s rambling had you smiling wide. Underneath that smooth exterior, he was a nervous wreck around you. 

“Thanks, Micks...”

The food was delicious. You guys talked amongst the meal and the conversation never stopped. Hours passed but you guys continued to laugh and talk. You were having the time of your life. Mickey brought your favorite fruits and snacks, but best of all, animal crackers. You held up the bag excitedly.

“Like from the movie!” You cheered. 

Mickey leaned forward to grab a cracker but you leaned back, smiling mischievously. You loved teasing him.

He furrowed his eyebrows and went to grab again but you leaned back even further. Mickey paused, chuckling, and you thought you won. You reached your hand in to grab a cracker yourself and instead, you felt his body collide into yours. 

You yelped in surprise and fell on your back. The Animal Crackers flew across the blanket and Mickey groaned in defeat. 

“Now look at what you did...” You laughed.

You guys were side-by-side laying on your backs, staring at each other. The blanket was soft. If you weren’t so giddy, you could have fallen asleep right there. Mickey’s body heat enhanced your comfort, the need to lean into him was excessive. 

You giggled at the man, biting the nail on your index finger. Mickey stared back at you, he looked pleased.

“What?”

He shrugged and continued to stare. You faced your head forward to look up at the branches of a tree above you. 

The shade kept you both cool from the sun. Rays of sunshine illuminated your skin, the eccentric shadow of leaves were printed on your face. A breeze flew by, causing your baby hairs to wave in the wind. Mickey couldn’t pull his eyes away.

“Baby-” You said, snapping him out of his trance- “Do you think it’s possible that anyone else in the world is doing this very same thing at this very same moment?”

You slowly turned your eyes back to Mickey, hoping he’d catch on. His toothy grin spread across his cheeks. He thought back to the movie line, hoping to get it right.

“I hope so...” He mumbled but you heard it perfectly. “Otherwise... What the hell are we trying to save?”

His face was an inch away from yours. You could feel his breath hitting your face. It was sweet. It smelled of the strawberries you shared moments before. 

A few strands of his hair hung in front of his eyes, separate from the rest of his slicked-back locks. His large brown eyes were looking at you sincerely. They were inviting you in. Mickey’s lips twitched upward as if he were tempted to make a move. 

But he didn’t.

You wanted to reach toward his face and pull him closer. You wanted to feel his lips meld into yours, allow the moment to overtake you. You wanted to feel his unshaven face press against yours and tickle your cheeks. You wanted to feel his hand wrap around your own. You wanted to feel him, to touch him.

But you didn’t.

Two weeks later Randy and Mickey announced their documentary was done. The finished product was ready to be viewed. You were invited to come to see it.

During those two weeks, you spent time wondering how you could finally make a move. You were sick of this. You wanted this to end and to have a new beginning. You were sure that Mickey had feelings for you. It had to be true. You needed a leap of faith. 

On the other hand, Mickey spent the same amount of time wondering where he was going wrong. Why couldn’t he pluck up the courage to kiss you? Making the first move always worked well for him. Why couldn’t he do it now? More than anything, he hoped that perhaps this documentary will give you an idea of his feelings. It had to. 

So here you were, nervously fiddling with a blocky device in your jacket pocket, avoiding the eyes of Mickey, who sat on a stool in front of Sidney’s TV. She opted that they show their documentary in her and Halley’s room of their sorority house. Surprisingly, they were the only ones with a good enough TV.

Mickey couldn’t pull his eyes off of you. It became a nervous habit. He wanted to know what you were thinking almost 24/7, he was beyond pissed that he wasn’t a telepath.

“Alright alright alright...” Randy strolled up to the screen. “Is everyone here? Does everyone have their snacks and their drinks? You all need to enjoy this to the fullest extent so snacks are a must.”

Everyone glanced at one another, drink and popcorn in hand. You glanced back to see Sidney all over her boyfriend Derek on the couch. You gave a half-grin, wishing that could be you and Mickey. Halley sat on the opposite end of the couch, happily munching on popcorn. 

“Well... without further ado-” Mickey began.

“Wait isn’t this a documentary? This better not be boring as hell...” Halley lifted her hand and we all nodded in agreement.

“Trust me, guys, this is good stuff. Probably our best yet,” Randy reassured us. “I’m going to play it now...”

We fell silent as Randy placed a tape inside of the VHS. He then turned out the lights as the intro began. Randy’s voice came through the TV.

“Love...” Tidbits of students on campus flashed across the screen. “What is love? ...And no, I don’t mean The Haddaway song.”

A few chuckles sounded around the room. Mickey held his glance on you still. 

“Falling in love is one of the most complex things a human can do... The psychology is even more complex. Certain chemicals are released that explain those butterflies in your stomach or why you get sweaty palms around your crush. Well, many scientists believe that humans are wired to fall in love...” Randy’s voice faded along with the screen. 

The sound of talking college students came through and the camera was poised onto Derek in the cafeteria. 

“What do you love about Sid, Derek?” Mickey said through the TV. 

The camera was far too close to Derek’s face, who looked insanely annoyed. 

“Bug off-”

“Just answer the question.”

Derek thought for a moment, then smiled, “Her smile and eyes. I can’t choose one. They just... go hand in hand. They’re gentle, kind, sweet... Like her.”

A chorus of ooh’s and aw’s rang throughout the room and we threw popcorn kernels at Derek. Both he and Sidney were blushing profusely.

The next clip was of Halley walking on the sidewalk. You could hear Mickey again. 

“Ms. Halley, please explain to us what you are doing right now.”

“I am going on a date, which I do not need you two dorks coming with me-” Halley shoved the camera away and the camera didn’t see her again. 

There were a few more scenes like this, the guys asking random couples on campus what they love about one another. 

You were never asked anything while you were filmed, so you were confused, to say that the least. What was your role during this? 

At times, you would lock eyes with Mickey. He looked frazzled but stared at you all the same. 

Randy posed another question to each of the couples, “How long does it take for someone to fall in love?” The screen was black as you heard the answers,

“Weeks-”

“Months, maybe six?”

“Years,” Someone said. 

And you appeared on the TV. 

It was when Mickey first filmed you. There was more than one clip of you, too, each a few seconds long. The first five contained you shying away from the camera but after that, you could see yourself growing more comfortable around him. You were never looking at the lens but always at the cameraman. 

The screen went black once more and another question was asked, “What’s your ideal love story?”

“Something like a Nicholas Sparks book. Tragic... yet romantic.”

“If we hated each other at first, but then we learned to love. The buildup is fantastic.”

“Childhood friends turned to lovers. Something about that constant pining has me reeling...”

You snapped your eyes towards Mickey. You couldn’t read the expression on his face. You looked back at the screen to see yourself once more.

“Micks... come on and watch this movie-” You were sat on a couch with a bowl of popcorn. You shoved a handful into your mouth when suddenly you noticed the camera sitting in front of you, “You left your camera in here! ...Hey- are you filming me?” You lifted the device to your face and stuck out your tongue. 

You could hear Mickey chuckle in the background. 

Another clip played of Mickey and you sitting on the floor. It was a different day, you guys were laughing hysterically over something. You’ve never seen Mickey so happy.

More and more clips of questions and answers paired with you played. It was matched together perfectly. Realization dawned on you. Was this a confession from Mickey? 

Mickey’s sweet voice played once more. But this wasn’t for any of the couples. He was sat on the couch, asking you.

“Think about a cheesy but underrated romance, okay? What is your favorite romantic scene from that movie?” 

You were only a few inches away from him, head rested on your hand on the backboard of his bed. 

“I’ll go first, I think the kiss during Titanic is spectacular.”

“It’s good but it’s not underrated Micks.”

“Alright, then what’s your choice?”

“...Armageddon. The picnic scene. I’ve never been on a picnic so something like that just seems so... tranquil.”

“You’ve never been to a picnic?”

“Yep... is that weird?”

“Completely and utterly, (Y/n).”

You laughed loudly in the documentary. The next scene was of Mickey setting the camera up someplace. He looked nervous. When he stepped away from the camera, it was a perfect angle to film the picnic he set up for you. 

You knew the rest. The next couple of minutes showed your guys’ picnic together. Including the movie quote. 

The end of the film was nearing, and Mickey’s anxiety was through the roof. It was far from romantic but once his project stopped playing he was going to confess to you. He was going to confess in front of all of his friends, for you. Just a few minutes left and he was going to do it. 

And then you left. 

Mickey finished the quote from the movie and you left instantly. Mickey’s jaw dropped as he stared at his friends. They looked equally confused. 

“Go after them, dude!” Randy yelled. 

It took a while but eventually, Mickey found you. You were on the porch of the sorority house, leaning against the railing and staring at the sunset. There was a cool breeze and parts of your hair waved in the wind. You had your arms wrapped around your body, pulling your jacket close. Mickey could see the orange glow illuminating your face when he joined your side. 

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t look at him. His heart dropped. He messed up.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to-” 

You shushed him. He fell silent.

“Come here... close your eyes... Step up... No peeking”

“I’m not...”

You pulled on his arm and forced him to stand behind you. You guided him to stand on the lower bar of the railing with you, his body nearly wrapped around yours. He stumbled a bit but he followed your movement blindly. The lack of distance between you two had him trembling. 

“Just a sec...” You whispered and pulled a walkman out of your pocket. “I wanted to get this right...” You said and pressed play.

The instrumental of My Heart Will Go On began to play and Mickey barked out a laugh. 

“What in the world-”

“Put your hands on my waist, Micks,”  You grabbed his hands. “You can open your eyes now.”

Just like the movie, Mickey thought. 

“I realize we can just see more of the campus... not the ocean,” Your words were gentle. They came out like honey. “But I wanted you to see... how you make me feel like I can fly.”

Mickey stared at your adoringly. Your scent filled his nostrils and he wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever. His hands ventured from your waist to lift them, like in the movie. Mickey leaned forward and whispered, “Come Josephine my flying machine going up she goes...” His hot breath tickled your ear and you could feel as he intertwined his hand with yours. “Going up...”

You turned to stare at him just as the music of your cassette player swelled. You hesitantly reached his face, and Mickey leaned in instinctively. Your hand comfortably rested on the back of his neck as his lips gently pressed against yours. 

They were hesitant, hot, gentle, almost hungry. His skin was a burning touch. Your hand melded against his skin, touching the curve of his jaw. Mickey’s fingers danced around your body, wanting to explore every crevice for the first time. Mickey had been unknowingly craving the touch of your skin and lips for so long, it felt like euphoria took control of his body.

He poured himself into you. You were willing to drown in his touch.

[puppetsoftomorrow]

avalance wedding vows

@puppetavasharpe challenged me to write the avalance wedding vows, so i wrote everything but the vows! (nah jokes there are some vows in here i just got Very carried away lmao). i'll clean up and post to ao3 when i find the time. enjoy!!

They both agreed they’d spent too much time apart in the weeks before their wedding to spend the night before it apart, and Sara was grateful, the nervous hammering of her heart calmed by Ava’s hand in hers, as they lay in the semi-darkness, neither ready to sleep quite yet.

“We're getting married tomorrow.” Ava said softly into the darkness.

“Yeah.” Sara said, the sound floating in the air. “Do we have to do it front of everyone? Can't we elope? Because we have a time machine, we don’t need to be married by an Elvis impersonator in Vegas, I can take us to get married by the real Elvis -”

“You're nervous.” Ava said - it wasn't a question, more of a slightly surprised statement, and Sara made an indignant noise.

“No, Sara Lance does not get nervous -”

Ava squeezed her hand, and Sara stopped the act.

“Fucking terrified. You?”

“Yeah, kind of.” Ava said softly. “But - the idea that you’ll be there - that helps. Is that weird?”

“No.” Sara said, as she moved further into her fiancée's side. “No, I think that helps me too.”

“Have you got everything ready? Are your vows written?” Ava asked, and it was Sara’s turn to squeeze her hand, trying to calm the part of Ava that needed their wedding day to run like a train station under communist rule.

“Yeah, all written.” She said, trying to keep her voice nonchalant. She had some pointers on a piece of paper in the pocket of her dress, and her plan of seeing where the day took her for the rest of it would almost certainly work. “What about you?”

“All done.” Ava said, her tone almost strangled, and Sara turned, propping herself up on one elbow to look down at her.

“Why do you look so guilty?” Sara asked, slightly confused, and her face broke into a grin when Ava started to flush pink.

“I wrote them - um – maybe about a year ago.”

“What? But I hadn't proposed -”

“I know.” Ava said, a hand coming up to cover her cheek. “It wasn’t - um - after anything in particular, you’d just come back from Star City and it sort of hit me, then, that this is what I wanted. For the rest of my life. So, I wrote them.”

“But you waited all this time -”

“Because I wanted you to propose to me.” Ava said, her voice soft, and she turned away, clearly embarrassed, but Sara’s hand caught her, to bring their eyes back together. “I just - I wanted to be proposed to. I know that’s sappy. And I wanted you to know, on your own, that you were completely ready.”

“I’m ready.” Sara said softly, as she ran her thumb along Ava's cheekbone. “That's adorable. You’re so cute.”

“Shut up.” Ava muttered, still bright red, and Sara laughed.

“Aw, Aves, is that any way to treat your future wife?”

“Go to sleep.” Ava said, grinning now, and she gently pushed Sara back down. Sara took full advantage of the new position and moved close, pressing her face against Ava’s shoulder and snaking her arms around her waist.

“I'm excited to hear them. I can't wait to marry you.”

“I can't wait either.” Ava said, voice a near whisper. “And - if it gets too much tomorrow- we can go find Elvis and he can marry us.”

“Thank you.” Sara said as she yawned, finally ready to sleep. “Night, baby. Love you.”

“Goodnight, my love.” Sara heard, softly spoken, as she drifted off to sleep.

///

Best laid plans - and Ava's plans were always the best - seemed a truism in that moment. Guests had been arriving in a constant stream, Mick making trips in the jump ship to pick everyone up, grumbling that he wasn't a taxi service, and Sara had only just finished getting ready - slipping into her white jumpsuit and curling her hair, as Nate sat on the bed and gushed about how beautiful love was, Behrad fast asleep next to him.

Constantine's mansion looked wonderful, Astra having spent a week learning the spells to cover the place in streamers and balloons, only they kept appearing and disappearing randomly, which caused Sara to yelp as a party of balloons suddenly appeared next to her.

She’d lost her shoes. These shoes were nothing special, but Sara was determined to find them, because they were her tallest pair, and she wasn't having Ava craning her neck to kiss her in every one of their wedding photos. People might think she was short or something.

Sara rounded into the ballroom, and saw something she was definitely not meant to see.

“Ava?” She said, and Ava turned, squeaked, and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Sara! What are you doing! Nate said he’d keep you in the bedroom until -”

“I’m just - what are you doing?”

“It's bad luck to see each other.” Ava said, eyes still tight shut, and Sara laughed, a slightly shaky sound.

“Well, baby, I’ve seen you now.” She looked her up and down, slightly in awe. Ava's dress was simple, ivory satin with a bardot neckline, her hair curled over one shoulder, elegant and beautiful. There was a quiver in Sara’s voice when she spoke again. “You're so beautiful. How did I ever get this lucky?”

“Stop it, you shouldn’t even be seeing me.” Ava said, her voice also thick with emotion, and Sara took three steps forward across the ballroom, taking Ava’s hands in her own.

“You can look, baby.” Sara said softly, and Ava’s eyes opened, widening when she took in what Sara was wearing. When their eyes connected again, there were tears on her lashes.

“You look so pretty. Are those trousers?”

Sara laughed and nodded, trying to keep her own tears at bay. “Yeah, um, the last wedding I went to was kind of invaded by Nazi superheroes, so I thought this would work for fighting.”

“You’re so practical. I'm not going to ask about the Nazis.” Ava sniffed, and Sara reached out to hold her hands.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” Sara said softly.

“You'll be there, won’t you? At the end, waiting for me?” Ava asked, almost shyly, and Sara nodded. All the Legends, even Spooner, had offered to walk her down the aisle when it had come out that Ava had no family to do it for her, but Ava had decided to walk alone.

Her only caveat - that Sara go first, so she could see who she was walking towards.

“Yeah, baby. I’ll be there.” Sara said, and turned slightly at Behrad’s shout of “I’ve found them!”

“That's my cue.” Sara said, trying to shake the tears from her eyes, and Ava scrunched her brow.

“Found what?”

“I'll tell you afterwards baby. I'll see you later.”

“I wouldn't miss it.” Ava said softly, and Sara beamed at her, before turning to run back the other way, before anyone saw that they’d seen each other.

///

Sara stood in the eaves, looking out to the flower filled garden, guests seated and talking, enjoying the sun and the chance to see old friends.

If her nerves weren’t bad before -

“You ready, kid?”

The gruff voice of her dad came from just behind her, and Sara nodded, trying to hide her sweating palms.

“Yeah, I’m ready. I just -” She started, then her voice dropped slightly. “I wish Laurel was here. I’d never imagined that I'd be doing this without her.”

“She’d be so proud of you.” Quentin said softly, and Sara nodded, a wet laugh escaping her lips when she realized they were both crying.

Before Sara could reply, the familiar tune played on the violin swept over the garden, and the guests fell in a hush, and Sara accepted the handkerchief her dad offered to wipe her eyes.

Quentin held out his arm, and Sara looped hers through his, stepping out into the light.

///

It all seemed like a blur. Ava walked down the aisle, a vision in white, a nervous smile on her face, and Sara considered just booking it down the few feet of grass that separated them to hold her hand, but she stayed firm, and Ava reached her, handing her bouquet off to Mona, and Sara reached out then, threading their fingers together. Nate’s words about love and their relationship almost melted away as she stared into Ava’s eyes, and she would have missed the vows if it weren’t for Ava gently squeezing her hand.

“Sara - I -” Ava started, stopped, took a shaky breath, and Sara beamed at her, willing her on, and Ava swallowed. “I wrote this after you came to Purgatory to get me. I’d never imagined, up until that point, that anyone could ever love me enough to do something like that, bring me back from the precipice, but you did.” Ava paused, and smiled gently at her. “You’ve changed my life irrevocably, and always for the better. You’ve made me a better person, a more thoughtful person, you’ve helped me to find who I am – you've also helped me to lose both my job and my house, but we won’t dwell on that -”

Ava seemed almost surprised when the guests laughed, and Sara squeezed her hand.

“Every time I think I’ve figured you out, you do something that surprises me. I can’t imagine my life – my future - without you in it, and I want it, all of it, every crazy adventure and every not so crazy one, just – all of it, because, I know whatever it is, you’ll be there with me, and we’ll face it together.” Ava said, then took a breath. “I love you, Sara Lance. Always and forever.”

Sara stood, slightly open mouthed, and would have kissed her if that wasn’t the main event in a few minutes. “Your turn.” Ava said, soft and just for her, and Sara nodded, her heart suddenly beating a little faster. She dropped Ava’s hands, and pulled her notes out.

Another benefit of a jumpsuit – pockets.

“Well, I wrote these vows after you said we couldn’t elope and get married by Elvis -” Laughter rippled through the assembled crowd, and Sara felt her shoulders relax. “Ava - I don’t know what good I did in this life to deserve you. I’ve made mistakes, I’ve died, and I’ve lost my way so many times and I never thought I could find my way back, but with you – I know I can always find my way home.”

Ava smiled at her, tears on her cheeks, and Sara moved to hold her hand again.

“I love you. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know it’ll be okay, because you’ll be there with me. I’ll be here, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Ava nodded, beaming through her tears, and Nate pronounced them married, and Sara could finally kiss her, and the light came in, warm and true.

///

“If I’d known that Behrad was such a huge Celine Dion fan, I wouldn't have let him be the DJ.” Sara said, pressing herself closer to Ava to be heard over the music that was sounding through the ballroom. Ava laughed, the sound moving through her, and Sara held her wife a little tighter as they slow danced to Because You Loved Me. “You’d think a guy from 2042 would have better music taste.”

“This wouldn't be such a bad first dance.” Ava hummed, swaying gently. They'd tried to forgo as much formality as they could - speeches and a first dance included - but Sara had danced with her dad, and Ava had danced with him to in a move that made Sara cry for the tenth time that day.

“It’s sappy as hell.” Sara said, and Ava laughed again.

“You are sappy, you’ve cried so many times today.”

“Yeah, I’ve gotten soft.” Sara said, eyebrows knitting together, until Ava pressed a kiss there.

“That’s not a bad thing.” Ava hummed, and they stood there, swaying gently. “Your vows were soft.”

“Yeah, and now all my family and friends know I have feelings.” Sara said with a dramatic sigh. “You’ve really ruined my reputation.”

Ava shrugged, before moving backwards to spin Sara before catching her again. “I rather like that you have feelings.” Ava said softly, once Sara was safe in her arms again, and Sara melted into it just as the last beat of the song played across the room.

The moment was ruined when Behrad yelled, and Bootylicious started to play across the radio. Sara burst out laughing to see Zari had taken up position next to the speakers.

“Actually, I change my mind, this is our first dance.” Ava said, and Sara just laughed as the rest of the guests started to pour onto the dancefloor.