#ANYway she now has his jacket and his wedding band and my heart is a little better | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pennyserenade · 3 years

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tags: nameless oc x javier peña, nameless oc x javier pena, angst rating: e ( explicit ) warnings: smut, language. word count: 3k+ summary: marriage requires sacrifice; theirs takes a little more than most notes: i definitely did steal the title of this chapter from the original scenes from a marriage and you know what? i’d do it again. anyways, thanks for reading and i hope you enjoy this installment! if you want to be tagged in this series, just shoot me a message or fill out my taglist form that’s available on my masterlist (pinned post). original gif by: @javierpcna

the art of sweeping things under the rug

scene two, scenes from a marriage

Wedding bands can vary in weight depending on the sort of week you’re having, she finds. Conveniently light, sometimes--nearly invisible, as if intertwined with oneself--and then, impossibly dense at others. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, she tells herself, but she’s on no throne, and there is no crown. It’s just her and Javi, and the elopement that tied them together.

The ‘70s had faded silently into the ‘80, and it’s easy to feel in love when the future looks promising. Well--maybe promising is too generous of a word for what they had felt then; perhaps uncertain is better. It wasn’t the sort of uncertain that fills one with dread either, the kind that leaves them in the dark with no flashlight. No, it was the uncertainty that felt good; the sort that made them think whatever was offered in the decade they’d not yet painted with plans was going to be great. It was promises of catching Pablo, promises of a promotion, promises of a proper marriage in the country they’d come to love in their own separate and shared ways. It was realists sharing one optimistic view in a world that seemed so void of them, and now, as she sits at the dinner table in her apartment, looking at the thin band on her finger, she wonders if they’d rushed into it

Her mother told her a mal tiempo, buena cara. In bad times, keep a good face. Just grin and bare it, wait for the uneasiness of the life they were living now to trickle into the marriage she anticipated, but she isn’t sure what sort of marriage she was anticipating. She had understood that there were going to be hardships, but she had welcomed them then because she thought they were going to be hardships they would endure together. They weren’t doing a very good job at the together.

It isn’t that she doesn’t love him. She has an unwavering love for him, but the absence of his being in her life has begun to create a festering wound in her heart. She’s torn between asking him to never leave again—to quit it all and stay wrapped in bed with her, pretending the horrors outside of their utopia didn’t exist—and saying nothing at all. Grinning and bearing.

He’s a good man. A great man, actually. He’s gentle, funny. A little too stressed for his own good most of the time, and a bit grumpy until he settles somewhere, but he’s exactly what she needs, and everything that could break her if he so wanted it, too. And she knows he never would want that, but she isn’t sure he knows he can either, because if he did, then he was tiptoeing dangerously close to that line.

Sighing, she shakes her head, dismissing it all.

The afternoon has begun to fade into the evening, and the cool summer wind blows a gentle breeze into her home. Javier said he wouldn’t be working late at the Embassy tonight, and she had told him she’d cook dinner, but the eagerness that had overtaken her then had been worn by the sight of his wedding band on her dresser. It was the thing that made hers seem so heavy. The thing that made her want to cry, really, and it was so silly, but she could not help the angry ball of frustration and confusion that formed at the sigh of it, or the way it had turned into the lump in her throat.

She yearns for the days when it was just fucking—the way they hadn’t exchanged anything personal so nothing could be personal. She misses the way he would call her, flustered, at all hours of the night and the way she’d always open her door for him, and they’d kiss passionately and fuck roughly and explore each other over and over.

But really, she doesn’t want that, either. She doesn’t know what she wants.

She hears the jangle of keys, hears the latch open, but she doesn’t turn to meet him. Instead, she’s lit a cigarette, and she’s staring out the window, looking at how the sun shadows the town. She puffs away at the cigarette and he says nothing when he enters. He just throws his keys on the counter and then moves quietly over to her, hands falling to her tense shoulders. She hates the way she leans into him too; how effortlessly the anger ebbs.

She looks up at him, and he smiles gently. He looks worn, as though he’s fighting something that she won’t learn until the early hours of the morning, when he’s spent from spent from sex and the general excitement that paints all of his days. Javi is interesting in that way—not emotionally stunted, but hesitant.

“You didn’t make dinner?” he asks while pushing her hair away from her neck, pressing his lips there quickly. He nuzzles against her for a beat, taking in her scent, feeling the warmth of her against him in gratitude. He is spent, and he’s wanted nothing more than to come here. Doesn’t even really care that she’s not made him dinner, just said it to hear her.

“I didn’t,” she responds, more softly than she likes. Her heart is tender for him, kind naturally because his being warrants it. She wants to yell, but she can’t because she loves him so goddamn much.

“S’okay,” he mumbles. Javi moves away from her, slipping off his jacket and sitting it on the chair. “We can order something later if you want.”

She nods, putting out the cigarette. “When do you have to go back in?”

“Six tomorrow morning. What about you?”

“I took tomorrow off.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “¿Por qué?”

“Because,” she shrugs. “Only so much depressing material you can write until it starts to wear you down.”

“You know I said—“

She cuts him off. “I don’t want to live off your paycheck. I know what you said but I’m happy doing what I do. Just—“ she pauses, struggling to think. “—not all of us can give our lives over to the cause all the time.”

She meant that, meant that entirely, and knows he feels it by the way his features settle into a look of pure nothingness. Stoned face, giving nothing. She’s sorry for it, but can’t say it. He doesn’t ask for her to.

“Cruelty doesn’t look so good on you, baby,” he tries to tease, but it comes out flat and serious. She bites at her lip, and turns her head to the window, back to the city, trying not to cry.

“Are you angry with me?”

He’s a good detective, isn’t he?

“Javi, I don’t want to fight.”

“You are angry with me.”

She sighs heavily. “No, I’m not.”

“You are, and I wish you’d just say why.”

“It doesn’t even matter, Javi,” she dismisses it with a simple shrug of her shoulders. “You’ve been at work all day and—“

“Is it because I work so much?” he interrupts.

“Goddamnit, Javier, I’m not fucking angry with you!” she shouts. Shouts like she is angry with him. Silence ensues and she wants to crawl in a hole and disappear completely.

“You left your wedding ring,” she admits quietly, half out of remorse, half because she can’t stand the way he’s looked down at the table and not looked back up. Or how he sits like he’s torn between fleeing and staying. “But it really doesn’t matter, and I don’t know why it bothers me so much because I know you...you don’t mean to hurt me.”

“No,” he shakes his head. He still does not look at her, focusing on a line in the table. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Javi, I said it didn’t matter.”

“But it does.” He finally looks up. “It matters if it makes you angry with me. I left it because I forgot, that’s all.”

“I said it doesn’t matter.”

“You never fucking fight me.”

“There’s no reason for it,” she replies.

“There is reason for it.”

“Javi, please. I don’t get you for very long and this is not how I want to spend it.”

“Stop doing that.”

“What?” Confusion paints her features.

“Running from it. Fight with me.”

“Why do you want to fight so fucking bad? When you’d turn into such a fucking masochist.”

She feels that lump in her throat again, feels the way it wants to give way and lets it all go the way he’s requesting. Fills the bitterness creep into her system the way she hates.

“I’m not a masochist,” he replies, “You’ve obviously got shit to say, so say it.”

“Fuck you, Javi,” she chokes, blinking back tears now. She definitely did not want this.

She gets up to move, but he grasps onto her wrist.

“Don’t run away,” he repeats. He’s angry too.

“Let me go,” she spits out spitefully. He has such a loose hold on her that she doesn’t even need his permission to escape from it, but it’s the concept more than anything. He does let go, but she doesn’t move.

“I didn’t want to fight with you.”

Her cheeks begin to heat with anger, and it’s the worst sort of anger, the kind that makes her sob because she can’t contain it. It’s an anger that feels unfair, and she can never beat it; the tears begin to fall rapidly.

Sympathy tugs at his heart; his steely resolution falls as quickly as it has come up. “I know,” he acknowledges. “We’ve got to fight, sometimes, though.”

“I know, but I don’t want to. I only see you two days a week and I don’t want to spend one of them yelling at you,” she confesses. “All I want you, Javi. Is that so much to ask?”

It’s his turn for shame to fill him. He knows why that can’t be—knows it’s because there’s things she can’t know and having her in a building full of DEA agents comprises the both of them. She’s in danger just wearing that wedding band on her finger; God forbid any of those fucking narcs ever found out they were married. He shouldn’t have done it, married her, but he could not help it; a sort of selfishness that was not uncharacteristic had pushed the boundaries within him, and he decided the good outweighed the bad. But, maybe it didn’t.

He stands and envelops her frame in a hug. She sighs into his chest and wraps her arms tightly around him. She only wants to make him happy and to be happy with him. Why did it seem so hard? When this all began, it felt so easy, so nice and now it felt hard.

Javier kisses her softly, just a peck and she feels lighter because of it. As he goes to pull away, she pulls him closer again, pressing their lips together. He responds, a hand resting on her hip and the other on the small of her back, holding her against him. She initiates a deeper kiss, swiping her tongue against his lower lip. They stand like this for a few minutes, kissing and basking in the presence of each other the way they’d both desired.

It is Javi who pulls back from their kiss, needing air and wanting to take it further—just not here. In the beginning of their relationship, when it was just fucking, sex felt something they had to do everywhere; on the couch, on the table, on the counter, in the shower, on the ground, even in front of the window. And they still did that, still let spontaneity sway them, but they’d settled into more comfortable routines too. He liked fucking her in their bed, the one thing they always agreed was undeniably both of theirs wherever it resided. It was their bed so as long as they both fell there to sleep.

He doesn’t even have to speak, just nods his head in the general direction, before she’s tugging him along.

She sits down on the bed and peers up at him, eyes still red from the tears. He feels awful about it, but doesn’t have it in him to say it. Can’t, for some reason. It’s lost between his brain and his tongue, but it finds its way out through the gentle way he presses her onto her back and lets his lips kiss her everywhere. He kisses her face, her lips, then her neck, and then he goes further, pushing her shirt up and pressing his plush lips against the newly exposed flesh. Then he then he’s undoing her pants, kissing the spot where her panties usually begin. He offers her a mischievous grin, and she smiles back at him.

“You really didn’t want to fight, did you?”

She shakes her head. “No, you fuck, I didn’t,” she laughs.

He continues his trail down her body, and she lifts her hips so he can remove her pants. Javier presses his lips on her hips, on the flesh directly above the pubic bone. Then, he presses them on the inside of her thighs, teasingly slow when he gets closer to her core, and she whines out of protest when he spots. Her eyes flicker down to see why, and when her eyes met his, he presses his tongue against her clit. A moan escapes her and she grasps onto the bedspread. Javi is encouraged by this, swiping his tongue against her folds, dipping his tongue into her, tasting her—really, truly admiring every part of her—before pressing his tongue back onto her clit. He begins to suck gently, and she writhes without control beneath him. A trained expert at this now, he anchors her down by wrapping an arm around each thigh, holding them in place.

“Javi—“ she manages to say, just as the tension begins to build in her stomach. “Oh Javi, baby, faster.”

He obliges and she is quick to find her release in a matter of seconds. Javi remains in between her thighs, licking up her arousal. He’s gotten good at this, knows the way she likes it, knows how to do it even when she can’t tell him.

She carts a hand through his hair, tugging gently, and he removes his lips from her finally. Despite her worn state, she’s quick to rise and meet him, uncaring about her arousal on his face as she presses their lips together once more. He kisses her back with more need than he previously had, his jeans feel tighter and more constricting than usual.

“I want to ride you,” she whispers against his lips, and he nods eagerly. Her fingers work at his belt, and then the button of his jeans, hardly making it past the zipper before she slides her hand into his pants and palms his already hard member. He winces against her lips and she can’t help but grin; this is her Javi. This is the marriage she wants.

“Te amo,” she says, beginning to tug at his jeans. He assists her, pushing them down all the way.

“Take off your shirt,” he demands, tugging at the fabric. She obeys him, throwing the shirt in the same place his pants fell, before he tugs her closer to him. A gasp falls from her lips as she mounts him, the warmth of his length agonizing so close to her heat. She reaches between them, lining his cock up to her entrance. Eyes connect as she fills herself with him, and his mouth falls open, desperate to moan but too choked by the feeling of her around him. She moves slowly, not wanting to release the warmth of him yet in favor of forming a steady pace to ride him. Javi, however, is growing increasingly aroused beneath her, and can’t help the way he guides her on his cock. “Please,” he begs, brown eyes dark with desire. She nods, and they move together, her hips following his hands instructions.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, watching the way he slides in and out of her. “I’m not going to last much longer, baby.”

Distracted by her own desire, she merely nods his confession, grinding herself on him until she fills the beginnings of another orgasm, the sweet release inches away. He doesn’t lift her from himself now, wanting to savor this feeling for a few moments longer. “Te amo,” he finally responds back, a deep groan releasing at the way she squeezes around him. She grinds against him, and he lets her, allowing his finger to undo the bra they’d both been too eager to take off as she does. It falls slowly down her chest, and as soon as it exposes her nipple, he’s quick to wrap his mouth around it. This earns a throaty moan from her, and she swears her orgasm isn’t ever going to end.

He pulls the fabric down her arms completely before turning them over, never leaving her once. He is desperate now, denied his orgasm too long, and the heat is pooling viciously in his stomach. He thrusts roughly into her, a whine emitting from her lips when he does, but she lifts her hips to meet him the second time he does it.

“Faster, baby,” she encourages, and he presses his fingers into her hips so hard that he’s certain the skin will bruise as he thrusts into her for the last time.

He slides out of her, and with a few more rough tugs on his cock, he’s releasing on her stomach. He wants to lay beside her, flat and lifeless as his lugs play catch up (it’s the fucking cigarettes, but he can’t stop them), but he resists the urge. He leans towards the bed stand and grabs a handful of tissues, wiping himself and her clean of his cum. She lays still, watching him intently, a soft, appreciative smile embedding in her features.

“I miss you a lot, you know,” she says. He throws the tissues away in the bin across the room, and she takes in his frame; admires the way his back looks, the broadness of his shoulders, even his ass. He’s a good looking man, on top of everything, and she’s happy to be his wife. She just wishes it was easier.

“I do know. I miss you too.”

He slides back into bed, uncaring of his nakedness, and she uncaring of hers. He pulls her bare body against him, and she wraps a leg around her hip. She traces his lips with her finger and he takes her hand, kissing the palm of it.

He loves her, loves her so goddamn much that the guilt of the wedding ring on her dresser eats away at him. It bites and bites because the way he’s so casually lied about why he left it, acted as if it wasn’t deliberate. Doesn’t want to tell he’s afraid they’ll find out if he doesn’t, doesn’t want to have to worry about if she’s okay anymore than he does already. He calls her every night, checks in at the same time so he knows nothing is wrong, and she knows he does this, but there’s a thousand things she doesn’t see. A thousand things he doesn’t want her to see, either, like the way he left the wedding band because he’s afraid or the way he drives past her house every night before he goes to his, just to ensure it’s still there, even though he knows it is. Doesn’t want her to see the anxiety that fills him every time he hears about a bombing or the way he can’t sleep when he goes away. He wants their marriage to be perfectly normal, wants it all to be perfectly normal. Colombia deserves to be a country where marriages don’t feel this hard, and that’s all he wants to give her, but he can’t.

As she lays against him, she can feel the tension in his body, knowing by the way he holds her a little too firmly that he’s thinking about something. She wants to ask about what, but she doesn’t want to spoil the moment.

They’ve both become experts at sweeping things under the rug—at sacrificing—and neither of them knows whether it’s good or not, but they’ll continue to do it. Lie causally in order to protect, not address the pain and disorder, just for moments like this, moments that feel entirely like their own. Moments that make them feel married and dedicated to one another.

This is scene two from a marriage.

tagged: @filthybookworm

#javier peña x oc #javier peña x reader #javier pena x oc #javier pena x reader #javier pena x nameless oc #narcos fanfic #narcos fic

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yeah-all-of-it · 3 years

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“Hey, sleepyhead! Get up! Busy day!” Ian calls from the bathroom.

He hears a grumpy, incoherent groan come from somewhere underneath the pile of blankets on the bed. After he finishes fixing his hair, he walks over to the bed. He perches himself gently on the edge, slowly sliding his hand underneath the bright white, high thread count duvet, a housewarming gift they had treated themselves to several months ago along with a new mattress and some sheets. After having to bang in walk-in coolers and dugouts and sleep on old mattresses and prison bunks for years, they wanted their bed to be a haven.

He has to feel around but Ian finally finds the waistband of Mickey’s boxers, and slips his hand in. This elicits a more pleasant groan from the pile of blankets.

Ian leans down and whispers softly, “We don’t have time now since someone decided to sleep in so long, but if you get up now, I promise I’ll make it worth your while later.”

“Ugh, fine,” Mickey grumbles, throwing off the covers and rolling out of bed. He stumbles to the bathroom, still half asleep, and shuts the door. Ian continues getting ready as he hears Mickey’s usual morning ritual; taking a piss, washing his face, brushing his teeth. He emerges from the bathroom several minutes later, decidedly more alert, and stops dead in his tracks.

There, standing in front of the full length mirror affixed to the back of the bedroom door, is his husband. He is dressed in a navy blue suit that looks like it was crafted just for his body. A slim fit jacket that enhances his broad shoulders and hugs his muscular arms. Slim leg trousers that show off his perfect ass, still deliciously thick from a few remaining quarantine pounds. Underneath the jacket is a crisp white dress shirt with a burgundy tie, and he has a pair of wing tips the color of caramel on his feet. He has put some gel in his red hair, not losing his curls, but styling them a bit more than normal. In short, he looks fucking incredible.

Once Mickey is able to breathe again, he manages to get out a flirty, “Hey there, Mr. Milkovich,” while very blatantly panning his eyes up and down Ian’s body.

Ian glances up at his husband, standing there in nothing but his ratty boxers, and grins at him.

“See somethin’ you like?” Ian inquires.

Mickey nods his head and smiles that million watt smile of his.

“C’mere.”

Mickey does as instructed and saunters over to Ian, who wraps Mickey tight in his arms and presses a kiss onto his mouth, gently sucking on Mickey’s lower lip. He lets his hands wander aimlessly all over Mickey’s bare back and Mickey melts into him with a soft “hmmmm”.

“Okay okay okay,” Mickey finally interjects, and pulls away. “You’re turnin’ me the fuck on and unless you want that fancy fuckin’ suit ripped off’a you right now, we gotta stop.”

Ian steps back and holds up both hands in mock surrender.

He then walks over to the dresser to grab his wallet and phone. “Mick, you got about forty five minutes to get ready before we have to leave.” He kisses Mickey on the cheek and steps out of the bedroom door, yelling from the hallway, “I’ll brew some coffee and we can take it with us. Lip will kill me if we’re late for his wedding.”

Forty minutes later, Mickey walks out into the living room where Ian is waiting on the sofa, playing some stupid game on his phone. He has poured two travel mugs of coffee that are in front of him on the coffee table. He looks up when he hears Mickey enter the room.

Mickey has on a modern dark gray suit, black dress shirt, black tie, and black wing tips. He’s gelled his jet black hair and it harkens back to years ago, when he was younger and wore his hair gelled every day. His brushed white gold wedding band gleams in the sunlight coming in from the window as he reaches up to adjust his tie. His bright blue eyes pop against the dark color of the suit. Ian sets his phone down and stands up slowly, unable to take his eyes off of his husband.

“Hell-o, Mr. Gallagher,” Ian purrs, while strutting up to Mickey, placing his hands on either side of his freshly shaven face. He slides his hands down Mickey’s arms and buries his nose in the crook of his neck, breathing in deeply. He smells of shampoo and Irish Spring soap, fresh from the shower, not yet tainted by the scent of cigarette smoke. He kisses Mickey’s neck gently, sighs, and reluctantly pulls away.

“We have to leave right now if we plan on being at the church by noon for the first round of pictures,” Ian states, double checking his watch.

“Alright, well let’s get goin’, GQ,” Mickey says with a sly grin and a quick raise of his eyebrows, grabbing his coffee on the way out.

Ian’s close behind and smacks Mickey on the ass before closing the door behind them.

———

“You’re early! I’m so fuckin’ proud!” Lip exclaims as the Gallagher-Milkoviches walk into the church.

He steps up to Ian and gives him a tight hug with a firm pat on the back; actually shakes Mickey’s hand. “Hey, you shitheads clean up pretty nice!”

Ian and Mickey both give him synchronized middle fingers.

“Uncle Mickey! Uncle Ian!” Franny yells and runs up to them, jumping into Mickey’s arms. She’s wearing a burgundy sparkly dress with a poofy tulle skirt and gold Doc Martens.

“Hey, kid!” Mickey says sweetly, swinging the tiny girl into the air, causing her to squeal with delight.

“Franny, you look beautiful!” Ian says to her once Mickey has set her down. “I love your dress!”

“It’s like the one I wore when you married Uncle Mickey!” she chirps cheerfully.

“It sure is!” Ian exclaims, giving her a big hug.

“Hey, Lip, where’s the newest little Gallagher?” Ian inquires. “Gotta get some snuggles in before things get busy.”

“She’s right over here, man. Tami’s got her. She’s gotta go get dressed anyway. Come on.”

Ian walks with Lip over to Tami, who is holding a snuggly baby in her arms, dressed in a soft cotton burgundy colored dress and a white cardigan, with little gold moccasins on her feet. Tami gives Ian a big hug and passes the baby off to him before heading elsewhere to put her gown on.

“Hey, there Sophie Gallagher. Uncle Ian missed you!” he coos. “I can’t believe you are three whole months old! And your mommy and daddy are getting married today!”

He glances up and sees Mickey standing off to the side, looking at Ian holding the baby with nothing but love in his eyes. Ian can’t wait to have kids with Mickey, but there is no pressure. They’ll get there one day. Right now they’re just enjoying being husbands and uncles. Mickey’s still nervous around babies, but Franny and Fred adore him.

“Okay okay, my turn!” Debbie interjects. She carefully takes Sophie from Ian and goes to sit down.

Ian spots Fred and heads over to him. “Freddie, my man, what’s up!” he says and picks up the toddler in the matching tiny blue suit who wraps his arms around Ian’s neck, saying, “Hewwo, Uncle Een!” in his sweet little voice. “Where’s Uncle Mickey?”

“He’s right over there. You wanna go tickle him?” Ian asks playfully.

“Yeah! Wet’s go!” They run over and wrap Mickey in a big bear hug. The tough guy can’t help but melt into a big puddle around his nieces and nephew.

“Hey, buddy!” Mickey exclaims, laughing at Fred’s small fingers tickling his sides.

Typical Gallagher chaos is happening. Liam is trying fruitlessly to convince Franny to go potty before things start. Debbie and Lip are arguing about something, as usual. Carl can’t find his suit jacket.

“Alright, we’ve gotta get this show on the road, people!” the photographer yells over the noise.

The photographer attempts to line up the bridesmaids - a couple of Tami’s childhood friends, Debbie, and Cami as the maid of honor, all dressed in burgundy chiffon floor length gowns. Debbie continues to gripe at Lip from her spot in line.

He then tries to get all the boys to line up - Ian, who is the best man, Brad, Carl, and Liam the groomsmen. The photographer has to shoot Ian a look as he puts Carl in a headlock when they are supposed to be lining up.

“Sorry!” Ian yells, straightening his suit and stepping into place.

Rounding up Franny and Fred and getting them to stand still proves to be easier than getting the adults to cooperate.

Mickey just sits back and watches the Gallagher shitshow with a huge grin on his face.

———

“You ready to do this, big brother?” Ian asks while standing in the hallway behind the sanctuary. The faint sound of people finding their seats and conversing quietly fills the air around them.

“Absolutely. Tami’s a good woman, ya know? She calls me on my bullshit, which is something I really need. She’s fuckin’ beautiful and she’s an amazing mom to Fred and Sophie. I’m really fuckin’ lucky, man,” Lip says, and Ian thinks he sees tears forming in Lip’s eyes. “I love her.”

Ian just smiles. “Soft motherfucker,” he jokes quietly and wraps his big brother in a hug, squeezing the back of his neck.

They hear the wedding march begin and know it’s their cue to step out into the sanctuary.

As they stand at the front of the church, the doors open and reveal Tami on the arm of her father, wearing a white beaded gown. It’s strapless and form fitting til it gets to the bottom where it fans out. She has her long blonde hair pulled up into a soft chignon, wispy hairs around her face, no veil. Simple. Lovely. She has a radiant smile on her face as she looks at her husband to be.

They begin to recite their vows and Ian notices they have chosen traditional vows. The same ones he and Mickey said to each other almost two years before.

“I Phillip, take you, Tami...”

“I Tami, take you, Phillip...”

“In sickness and in health...”

Ian can’t help but find Mickey in the crowd, locking eyes with him.

“For richer or poorer...”

Mickey softly smiles at Ian, and Ian just knows that sensitive asshole’s eyes are tearing up.

“Til death do us part.”

Ian is smiling at his husband like an idiot now, unable to take his gaze off of him. He can’t help but think of the day when they said those same beautiful words to each other, meaning them with their whole hearts. They had already been through most of it; sickness, poverty, better and worse. And they had made it. Making those promises that day just cemented that they would always go through those inevitable things together.

It was the best day of Ian’s life. The beginning of their forever. No more forced separations. No more goodbyes. No more lonely nights, wondering if the other is safe and okay. He has to fight back tears; this is Lip and Tami’s day after all.

Lost in thought, he’s startled back to the present by applause as Lip dips Tami for a kiss that’s a little too hot for church. This elicits a standing ovation and whoops and whistles from the guests. Ian can’t help but cheer and clap for his brother and his new wife.

———

After another hour of pictures, these including the bride and groom, they all head to the reception hall.

It’s decorated with white and burgundy linen tablecloths and elaborate floral centerpieces. There are Edison bulb strings hanging from the ceiling. A DJ is spinning beside the parquet dance floor, disco lights flashing away. There is a large table full of chafing dishes and a three tired cake on a separate round table.

“Man, the Tamiettis really went all out,” Mickey says to Ian, grabbing a carrot stick off one of the veggie platters with his fingers, sticking it into the bowl of dip, and shoving it into his mouth.

“Like you have room to talk, Mr. Gold- chiavaris-with-the-white-cushions,” Ian jokes, to which Mickey responds with a light hearted “fuck off”.

After filling their starving bellies with meatballs, chicken wings, finger sandwiches, and cake, the Gallaghers take to the dance floor. They know how to party and they’re not about to let this amazing night with music, free food, and an open bar go to waste.

The whole family is dancing to YMCA, a wedding reception staple, when the end of it fades into a slow song. Ian and Mickey lock eyes. Ian raises a quizzical eyebrow and Mickey nods, almost imperceptibly. Ian slowly walks over to him, gently grips his hips, and pulls him in close. Mickey snakes his arms around Ian’s waist and grasps his hands together at Ian’s lower back. Ian slides his hands up Mickey’s arms and wraps them around his shoulders. They sway slowly to the music, bodies pressed together so closely they can feel each other’s hearts thrumming in their chests. Mickey nuzzles his face into Ian’s neck as Ian rubs his hand on the back of Mickey’s head. They are intoxicated by each other, the romance of the day, and the few Old Styles they’ve shared from the bar.

“Hey, Ian?” Mickey inquires, a little muffled, not bothering to move his face from its place in Ian’s neck.

“Yeah, Mick?” Ian questions, talking into Mickey’s hair.

He hesitates for a second, like he’s trying to think of the right words. “Maybe... maybe it’s the beer, or… or just this day, or maybe being married to your ass is making me fuckin’ soft...” he drifts off.

“Out with it, Mick,” Ian sighs calmly.

“It’s just... I love you. So fuckin’ much. I feel like I don’t say it enough, man,” Mickey finally confesses.

Ian stops swaying, pulls back, and tenderly holds Mickey’s head in his hands. Looks him directly in the eyes. “Mickey. Listen to me. No, you don’t say it very much. But you don’t need to. Because you show me every fuckin’ day. And that’s so much more important and meaningful to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean… you got me to stop wallowing on the couch when I lost my job, paid enough attention that you knew where that could lead. Stopped it before it got bad. Checked in with me. Don’t know where I’d be, ya know mentally, if it wasn’t for you. Worrying about me and shit. Fuck, I probably would have fallen through the cracks years ago without you. And… and you created a job for me so we could work together. You planned a surprise anniversary party for me. You moved to the fuckin’ Westside because I wanted to. You agreed to buy a duvet, for fuck’s sake, and helped me pick it out,” Ian laughs.

“Okay, yeah, I guess I am a pretty amazing husband. You really fuckin’ lucked out, Gallagher.”

“Yeah, damn straight I did,” Ian smiles and pulls his husband back into his arms, thinking the matter settled.

There’s a short beat before Mickey says, so quietly Ian almost doesn’t hear it, “I fuckin’ lucked out, too, ya know.”

“Ya did?” Ian asks casually, expecting a snarky answer. Another slow song has begun so they stay where they are, in each other’s arms on the dance floor.

“Yeah, man. Like… like with my fuckin’ dad?” Mickey begins.

Okay, not where Ian was expecting this conversation to go.

“You… you found nurses for him and shit… and kept trying when they… didn’t work out.” Mickey keeps pausing, like the conversation is making him uncomfortable, but he can’t stop. “He was an evil prick that didn’t fuckin’ deserve our help… but you helped anyway… for me, ya know? ‘Cause it was important to me.

“And then… when he…” Mickey sniffs uncomfortably, reaches up and scratches his nose with his thumb. “…you just let me cry for like, 4 days. Didn’t make fun of me. And you held me. But you didn’t let me forget what a monster he was, no matter how hard I tried to only remember the good shit.”

“Mick, it’s okay, we don’t have to talk about all this, not here anyway —,” Ian begins but Mickey interrupts him.

“No, I wanna… I spent so much of my life never saying what I fuckin’ feel and I want to tell you right now how I fuckin’ feel,” Mickey declares, determined but still so tender.

Ian just nods for him to continue.

“Look, all the shit with my dad is in the past. But I’ll never forget the way you were …just, there for me. Through all of it. It just… it meant a lot to me. It meant everything to me, man. I just… sorry, all this wedding shit has me all fuckin’ emotional and I just needed to let it out. Tell you what you mean to me, that’s all.” He clenches his eyes shut, and squeezes the bridge of his nose with his fingers, only briefly. “Just… don’t fuckin’ get used to it, okay?”

Mickey grins after that last statement, relieving some of the tense emotion of the last several minutes.

Ian smiles back and replies sarcastically, “Wasn’t planning on it, softie.”

“You’re a fuckin’ dick,” Mickey laughs and draws Ian in close, starts to sway to the music again.

“Hey, Mick?” Ian whispers into Mickey’s ear as the song finishes. “I love you too,” and he feels Mickey’s smile light up against his skin.

Ian and Mickey dance and drink the rest of the evening away, celebrating not only Lip and Tami, but also the freedom they’ve found in being so emotionally vulnerable with one another. There is a lightness that comes after getting things off their chests, sharing their unfiltered feelings with one another. This might not have been the ideal occasion to share such heavy stuff, but Ian doesn’t want Mickey to ever be scared again to just blurt out how he fuckin’ feels every minute.

———

They aren’t completely wasted, but are definitely drunk enough that they shouldn’t be driving home. They grab an Uber and Carl, who has an early shift the next morning and quit drinking around 9, drives the ambulance to the Gallagher house where they’ll pick it up later.

Feeling no pain, they laugh and joke and sing like when they were just drunk teenagers, arms tangled around each other, up the elevator and down the hall. It’s nearly 1am and they aren’t exactly being quiet. Their neighbor across the hall, an older eccentric lady named Rhonda, pokes her head out to see what the commotion is, catching the two men pressed up against the wall outside her door in the middle of a steamy kiss.

They finally notice her presence, break apart and Ian blurts out, “Heyyyy, Ms. Rhonda! So sorry to bother you!” as their cheeks turn bright red. They’re not embarrassed that she caught them making out in the hallway, they’re embarrassed because this isn’t the first time she’s caught them making out in the hallway.

“Oh, you beautiful boys are no bother!” she laughs. “Wish I had someone to throw me against a wall and kiss me like that. Shew! You two crazy kids have a great night; god love ya!” and retreats back into her apartment with a friendly smile and a wave.

They laugh, bid her good night, and decide they should probably go inside their apartment before they encounter one of their less friendly neighbors. Ian fumbles around with the key for what feels like an eternity before finally getting the door open. They stumble through the door, slamming it shut loudly behind them, Ian reaching up to lock the deadbolt.

He stops as soon as he throws the keys onto the entry table.

“In case I haven’t told you yet, Mick, you look hot as fuck in that suit. But…,” he steps closer to Mickey. “I think it’ll look even better on our bedroom floor,” Ian teases.

“‘Ey, you look pretty fuckin’ hot yourself,” Mickey responds, biting his lip.

They just stare at each other for a moment, appreciating the sight before them. Suits and ties and dressy shit don’t happen around here that often.

“S’you remember your promise from this morning, right? That if I got outta bed, you’d make it worth my while later?” Mickey asks playfully.

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’s fuckin’ later, Gallagher. Time to pay up,” Mickey declares with a flirty grin.

Ian doesn’t even hesitate. Grabs Mickey around the waist and pushes him back toward their bedroom, to their bed with the cloud mattress and the bright white duvet, to their haven.

ETA: Check out Ian, Mickey, and Rhonda’s friendship origin story here!

#I wrote my first fic!#well not my first but this was the first one that I felt wasn’t too garbage to share #please be kind #this is so far out of my comfort zone and I can’t believe I’m actually sharing this for other people to read #gallavich fic #ian and mickey #3.5k #post season 11 #sorry it doesn’t have a title

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matildashoney · 3 years

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𝙸 𝙵𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝙰𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎? // 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚏𝚝𝚑 𝙽𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 // 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝚂 // 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 // 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 // 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙲𝙻𝙰𝙸𝙼𝙴𝚁: 𝙱𝙸𝙿𝙾𝙻𝙰𝚁 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙾𝚁𝙳𝙴𝚁, 𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙼, 𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝚂𝚄𝙸𝙲𝙸𝙳𝙴, 𝙰𝙽𝚇𝙸𝙴𝚃𝚈

𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎'𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍. 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗. 𝚒 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢. 𝚒'𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 @summertimestyles 𝚊𝚗𝚍 @theharriediaries 𝚊𝚗𝚍 @hunflowers 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚍. 𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎. 𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑.

Harry and Caroline are fighting, again. Again, being the key word, there.

And well, it’s not really Harry fighting, it’s Caroline. It’s Caroline fighting with herself, Harry trying to stop it, and her internal disarray of chemicals that make her brain function atypically arguing back against him. That’s how it feels to Harry, at least; that he’s fighting the chemicals in her brain and not the nonsense that it tells her, because logically Caroline knows better than to talk to the people that hurt her, by now, especially her mother.

“Harry, I couldn’t not invite my mother! That’s my mom.”

“Caroline, yes, you could have. It’s very simple, love. Quite literally, you don’t text her, you don’t send the invitation.”

“Don’t ‘love’ me,” Caroline bites back daringly, crossing her arms in front of her chest and standing directly in front of her fiancé, his stature much taller and more commanding than her own in the cotton robe she’s clothed in as she gets dressed and ready for their engagement party, this evening. “I’m angry with you.”

“I’m angry with you,” Harry sighs frustratedly, shaking his head and walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair slightly damp and shaggy from the humidity of the closed off room. “Callie, you know how I feel about your mother, and you know how it would make me feel that you sent her an invitation to our wedding. Callie, you crossed a boundary and you hurt my feelings.”

That’s what gets Caroline. That sentence is what makes her heart shatter in her chest and feel as though the shards are scraping at the inside of her chest and there’s no way to breathe properly. Caroline hates crossing boundaries, and even worse, she hates hurting Harry’s feelings. Especially when he’s only doing something to protect her.

“Let’s take a breather,” Harry suggests, swallowing a thick lump in his throat and shaking his head, sucking in a deep breath in through his nose and pursing his lips together. “I’ll get ready in the bedroom. Get ready in here.”

“Okay,” Caroline sighs, tightening the cotton around her waist and slowly shutting the bathroom door behind her, their clothing already separated into the bathroom and the bedroom before their shower was even taken, almost a forewarning for what would happen when Caroline accidentally spoke about inviting her mother to their wedding in the middle of their shower and Harry looked at her with wide eyes and an open jaw. “Don’t leave.”

Harry knows that it’s more of a question than a statement. “I’m naked, love. Can’t really go anywhere without m’clothes, anyways.” Caroline doesn’t laugh. “I’ll be right where you left me, Callie. Promise.”

“Kiss?”

“Come here,” he says, ushering her towards him, holding his hand out and grabbing her wrist lightly, careful to not touch the crescent shaped marks she left in her skin earlier in the week. “Kiss.”

Harry kisses Caroline three times, twice always, third for good measure. Caroline hums contently, nodding her head and turning on her heel to walk towards the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind her before flicking on the air vent and beginning her routine around the room.

Caroline thinks about lots of things in the midst of getting ready for the evening, such as her mother, her father, her family that flew into town two nights ago, their friends, their cat, Harry, but namely about how engagement parties have always been something that seem so over the top to her.

All of it – the wedding traditions – seem like so much work for one night, especially for a night that most of their friends will not remember considering how easily they black out drinking when unlimited liquor is involved. Having an engagement party never really mattered to Caroline, that is until she became the engaged one, mainly because Harry refused to not follow through every tradition that is involved in the wedding planning, from the bachelor and bachelorette parties, to the letters for their first fight being tucked away in a box, to not seeing the bride the night before the wedding. Harry is listening to all of it, and all of it is beginning to get on Caroline’s nerves, a tiny bit. Harry isn’t getting on Caroline’s nerves because she’s angry or mad at him, no, but because he’s so considerate of her through everything, that it is driving her insane that they aren’t married already. If it were up to Caroline and Caroline only, she and Harry would have eloped the day he proposed to her.

And before Caroline even knows it, nearly an hour has passed, and Harry is knocking on the bathroom door to warn her of the time.

“Are you ready, Bug?” Harry calls from their bedroom, buttoning the cuffs of his long sleeves and bringing the suit jacket over his shirt, adjusting the waistband of his trousers and having the material sit lowly on his hips. “Odds of us being early are running relatively slim if we don’t get a move on, soon.”

“Ready!” Caroline calls from the bathroom, the silk, champagne pink dress clinging to the curves of her body, her heels clicking against the linoleum as she hurriedly rushes out of the room and brushes her fingers through the freshly done curls. Caroline refused to have anyone help her get ready, tonight, insisting that she would be perfectly fine on her own, and instead her slightly irritated fiancé wound up in the bathroom with her, helping her finish her hair while she applied the final touches to her makeup and her accessories. “Is the car running, Shakespeare?”

“Has been for a few minutes, now, love,” he says with a smile, taking a moment to let his eyes wander over his fiancée, taking in her appearance and the way she’s never looked more beautiful than with the ring on her finger and his pearls around her neck. “Look absolutely stunning, Cal.”

“Thank you. Look quite handsome yourself,” she blushes, reaching out her hand and graciously giving herself to him, intertwining their fingers and letting his thumb brush over her knuckles as they hurry down the stairs and wave goodbye to their cat and make their way to the car, where Harry is quick to open the door and shut it behind her. Harry is around the driver’s seat before she can even attach her phone to the radio, ready to play their songs over the speakers and sing loudly and proudly all the way to the venue. Harry and Caroline sing quietly together for a while, trying to beat the rush of traffic in Central London to meet at the venue where the engagement party would be held by all their family and the few friends that flew out for the event. Caroline, out of nowhere, says, “I’m sorry I invited my mother without talking to you about it first. I’m sorry that I went over your boundary and I didn’t show you the respect that you show me regarding people that hurt our feelings and don’t respect us.”

“I accept the apology, love,” Harry smiles, kissing her hand and squeezing her fingers softly in his hand. “Care to tell me why you did it? Are you ready for that conversation, or not yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay, baby. We’ll talk about it later.” Harry smiles again, this time at Caroline, and kisses her knuckles, trying to soothe the anxiety that he can see physically building in her eyes. “Did you know that once the bookstore is all together, I’ll be writing an entire poetry book about how much I love you?”

“Harry Styles, you love me, your mentally ill fiancée, that much that you’d write a whole poetry book about me?” Caroline teases, turning to face Harry in her seat and smirking at the slight crack of a smile peeking onto the corners of his mouth.

“Mentally ill fiancée,” Harry grumbles, squeezing her hand warningly and shaking his head in disapproval. “Can’t stand you sometimes, Caroline Ryan.”

“Can so,” she says confidently, wiggling her left hand in the air with her quaint diamond ring sitting perfectly on her finger. “Asked me to marry you to prove it.”

Harry is quiet until Caroline sets her hand on her thigh, his eyes traveling from the red light to the dainty ring on her third finger before speaking. “Can I please get you a better ring, Callie? I hate that you wouldn’t let me splurge on a ring for you, like you deserve.” Harry’s been harping on this since the day he proposed, since the moment he opened the little antique box, and the engagement ring was just enough to fit inside. He’s felt like it wasn’t enough to show his love for her, that their love should be shown in a more extravagant way than a dainty gold band and one singular diamond. “I can afford to buy you a better ring, now.”

“Harry, I don’t want a different ring. This is the one that you proposed with, that you thought would mean something special to me, and that’s the one I want,” Caroline says firmly, shaking her head and turning to face the window, soaking in the sights of the city and the bustling traffic surrounding their newly bought car.

Shakespeare’s Library is doing exceptionally well since the grand opening a few months ago, with regular customers and the new influx of shoppers since opening in the city, and it was enough for them to afford to move out of his sister’s house and into the apartment above the shop. It’s small, very small, but enough for the two of them to share comfortably, with one bedroom and a bathroom and decent sized kitchen for dancing at one in the morning. Their dining table is simultaneously the workstation for Caroline’s book – which has yet to be named – and Harry’s records for the financials of the bookstore that’s been his dream since he was a little boy.

“Fine,” Harry agrees regretfully, turning into the parking space and shifting the gears into park, turning to face the woman sitting next to him who is nervously picking at the hem of her dress. Better than making her fingernails bleed, Harry thinks to himself. “Go on and tell me why you’re anxious, Callie.”

Caroline sighs, looking towards Harry and says, “Our love story isn’t all cute and butterflies and rainbows, Harry. Hell, I didn’t even like you at first! Then, I’m supposed to go and tell this story to your family who thinks so highly of me, and I’m going to have to tell your mother that I hated her baby before I loved him.”

“That’s our story, though,” he says delicately, kissing her knuckles and rubbing his thumb over her wrist. “Our story wasn’t meant to be like everyone else’s. It wasn’t meant to be like Niall and Liv’s or Mitch and Sarah’s. Or anyone else’s for that matter. It’s meant to be ours, Callie.”

“How do you know that?” Caroline wonders honestly, sighing and looking into his emerald eyes and seeing the love and affection that pour through them, and all she wants is a kiss. Her eyes barely have to flicker to where his lips are before he’s leaning over the center console and grabbing her face to kiss her gently, his hands holding her cheeks, his rings cold against her skin. “Hm, you know that because you love me. That’s what you’re going to say, isn’t it?”

Harry nods proudly, pecking her lips once more before turning the ignition and opening the car door. Hurrying around the car to open her door – because she knows better than to try and open her door, by now – Harry takes Caroline’s hand and interlocks their fingers, walking inside the quaint restaurant and into the private room they rented for their party and the evening. His hand is warm and comforting in hers, his thumb rubbing along her knuckles and her cheek laying on his shoulder as the owners of the restaurant talk quietly with her fiancé about the room and everything that would be catered for the evening. His mother and sister are hurrying inside after them, apologizing for running late and wrapping their future daughter/sister-in-law in their arms for a warm embrace. Their best friends are quickly coming to follow, and the few family members that were invited and to the event are shuffling in behind them. Quickly, the private room is filled to the brim with nearly twenty of their closest friends and family.

“Hi, hello. Come on in,” Harry announces with Caroline at his side, her hand wrapped in his, intertwining their fingers and squeezing every so often to remember that he’s there with her, holding her safe. Harry knows that Callie isn’t doing too well, right now, and she needs him more than ever. “I, I want to thank you for coming and celebrating such a special day with us. Callie and I recently got engaged, as you already know, and we wanted to have a little dinner with our family and friends to celebrate the occasion. Our love story is anything but typical, maybe even ideal, and we thought, what better way to celebrate being engaged, than to tell the story of how we met and fell in love with all our friends that don’t necessarily know the whole story.”

“Tell it then, Mr. Storyteller,” Niall shouts from his table in the corner, earning a smack on the forearm from his girlfriend and a stifled laugh from Mitch sitting next to him. “Ouch.”

“Callie is going to tell the story, actually,” Harry says to their friends and family, squeezing her hand and pulling out the paper that she wrote on from his suit jacket pocket. He kept it there for safekeeping because knowing his fiancée, as lovely as she is, she’s quite forgetful and would have sent herself into a near panic attack had she forgotten the papers at home and had to tell their love story solely on memory.

“All right, baby. This is your time. Can stop any time you need to. All you have to do is look at me. Look at me and I’ll know what to do.” Harry looks at Caroline fondly and kisses her cheek. “I love you.” Caroline nearly melts at the term of endearment; it’s not one that Harry uses usually, especially not since they moved in together two years ago and their names that they have for each other are too sweet for him not to say. Caroline’s hands are shaking when she reaches for the papers from Harry, and his eyes grow wide with nerves as he notices. “Callie, you don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” Caroline assures, adjusting the strap on her shoulder and setting her glass of champagne that was given to her as they walked inside the venue on the table, a light sheen of sweat beginning to form beneath her makeup as she feels everyone’s eyes fall to her. Caroline never liked speaking in front of crowds, especially not when there are people that she could very well make a poor impression upon, like his mother and sister, their friends, their coworkers.

This, tonight, is different, though. This is for their engagement, for the next step in their relationship. This is for the stories they’ll tell their nieces and nephews, their friends and family, their audiences when they write their own novels and poetry collections and short stories, like Sylvia Plath and Virginia Woolf. This is different, for all intents and purposes. That’s what makes Caroline want to do it – specially to show the love of her life that this means as much to her as it does to him – to tell the story of their love, even if it is less than ideal in the beginning.

“Firstly, I want to thank everyone for coming,” Caroline begins, smiling softly as Harry’s hand finds its way to the small of her back comfortingly. “Especially our friends and Harry’s family, that made it over here and are staying together in a hotel, it means a lot to me that you’ve come to share this time with us, even more so that my family couldn’t be here for the engagement.”

Caroline’s family couldn’t make the engagement, the engagement party, and a majority of the wedding traditions as a majority of the relatives and cousins and aunts and uncles live in another country and are a bit older, a bit estranged. Lucy, Caroline’s mother, still has yet to reach out, even though Caroline and Harry tracked down her location and sent an announcement weeks ago. Caroline, since they sent the announcement, has been hung up on inviting her mother to the wedding, to seeing her there, maybe, just maybe, making a good impression and winning her over, like she wishes she had when she was a little girl. Harry wishes this wasn’t the case, but there is little he can do to change her mind.

“Our story is anything but the typical romantic comedy that my darling fiancé adores, and to be honest, it’s something that, had you told me five years ago, I would be telling at an engagement party, our engagement party, I would have given you some choice words and something along the lines of, ‘Go away’.” Niall and Mitch laugh loudly in the corner, nodding along with Liv and Sarah. “Truth be told, lucky is the best, the only, way to describe how it feels to be me, today. Lucky to be standing with someone by my side who understands me, who loves me, who cares for me on the bad days and the good days. There are plenty of them, the bad days, and Harry is someone that immediately knows what to do, how to take care of me, how to love me, especially on the very bad days – the days when the lights are off and there’s no way to find the light switch. Truthfully, I could go into detail about how Harry takes care of me on the bad days, how he comforts me, how he knows how to make everything better without having to try very hard. All the things I could say about Harry would make you believe that Harry is the kindest, gentlest soul I’ve ever met, and you would be right. There’s no one I’d rather spend every day of my life with, even if our relationship started out a little rocky. Well, very rocky.” This time, his mother and sister laugh quietly with tears in their eyes. “Our life, our relationship, couldn’t be what it is today if we didn’t dislike each other in the beginning, I don’t believe. Especially me. Disliking Harry–”

Harry coughs quietly and says, “Hating.”

Caroline rolls her eyes, shaking her head and says, “Okay, yes, hating him taught me, in some weird capacity, how to love him, how to love someone that doesn’t quite understand me or anyone like me, just yet.” Caroline looks at the papers in her hands, the ones she’s reading word for word, and sets the pages down on the empty plate, sighing heavily and looking out towards all their friends and family with a fond smile. “Honestly, I thought I was going to need all these pages to tell the story, to remember everything and share the details, but I remember. I remember everything like it was yesterday.”

Shakespearean Literature. That’s the first class on Caroline Ryan’s agenda for the day.

Liv is in the same building, a workshopping class with her new boyfriend – that she can’t remember the name of if her life depended on it – taking her attention while they were grabbing coffee, this morning. Liv’s relationship is new, an exciting adventure with someone from another country that she met at a bar when Caroline was “home sick with a stomach ache” - also known as, Caroline had a panic attack while getting ready and couldn’t leave her bedroom. Liv is obsessed with him. Caroline has never seen her best friend so infatuated with someone before, and it makes her happy, simultaneously a bit lonely, but happy nonetheless. Caroline knows that she’s not in the business of finding anyone for her, right now, not when she’s still a mess over the recent death in her family and taking care of her family’s estate and all that’s been drudged up by it.

“Caroline Ryan!” Professor Rigsby shouts as she walks into the classroom, coffee in hand, her computer and notebooks tucked away in her backpack. Caroline is infamously early to every class and the only other person in the room is sitting in the front of the class, their back turned as if no one walked into the room, and it suddenly makes her nervous. “Having my two favorite students in the same class. This is going to be a treat!”

Caroline sits in the back of the room instinctively, trying not to draw any attention on her – more than the professor already called to her – and lays everything down, setting her coffee in the cupholder before she spills it over herself – been there, done that – and opening her computer to a new page of notes, ready to be taken. Max – her boyfriend – texts her to make sure that she’s gotten to class all right and everything is going okay so far – he’s considerate, like that. Caroline types her reply on her computer without noticing that the man that was sitting in the front of the room has slowly made his way towards her and is now standing in front of her computer screen with his hand outstretched to introduce himself.

“Oh,” Caroline says embarrassedly, wiping her hand nervously on her thigh and stretching out her hand, shaking his and nearly missing his name.

“Harry,” the taller man states smoothly, his voice is accented from somewhere overseas – that much she knows, likely the United Kingdom, she thinks – his grey shirt tucked into his checkered black and white pants, which hang loose around his thighs and calves. His hair is slightly shaggy, longer on the top and sides, curly brown tendrils falling into his face that he’s brushing back. The sight of Harry, alone, makes her breathe out a singular breath of relief, thanking her lucky stars that he’s not her type and she won’t have to worry about thinking he’s attractive and stumbling over her words with him if they’re partnered together for annotations – which is likely if he’s their professor’s other favorite student. Besides, Max is a good boyfriend and friend. That in and of itself will make this easier for her.

Harry smiles arrogantly, a dimple indenting his cheek as he stares at her, “Hopefully Professor Rigsby partners us together for the annotations that we’ll have to do this term. It’ll be interesting to see what you have to say.”

“Excuse me?” Caroline says pointedly, already slightly insulted with whatever this man has to say to her. The reason Harry’s talking to her is unknown as it is, let alone why he’s backhandedly complimenting her annotations on the literature of a seventeenth century poet.

“Typically, you know, it’s male dominated course. It’ll be interesting to see what a female, what a woman, has to say about love from a man’s perspective,” Harry says confidently, the disgust written across Caroline’s face with the furrow in her brows and the purse to her lips. “Professor Rigsby said nothing but great things about your writing, so I’m looking forward to getting to know how you interpret literature.”

Caroline is confused as to why Professor Rigsby was talking to another student about her writing, and why this student thinks it’s acceptable to say such a thing to her. Her nails are instinctively becoming more enticing to pick at the longer he stays and speaks to her, and she’s suddenly happy that the room is filling with students and Harry’s attention is being pulled in an opposite direction.

Caroline’s eyes fall to her thighs, the hair growing beneath the hem of her shorts suddenly bothering her and becoming an obsession to note for later when she’s in the shower. Her nails make crescents in the skin, and she nearly is digging deep enough to cause a cut when the professor coughs and makes an announcement to start the class.

“Welcome to Shakespearean Literature, young master’s students. I’m Professor Rigsby, but you knew that already,” Donald Rigsby announces to the class, standing at his podium and flailing his arms about as he speaks.

Donald is an older man, likely in his sixties or seventies, and he reminds Caroline of her grandfather, in some ways, the one that used to read classic literature to her as a child when her father told him not to, that it was too mature for a young girl her age, and he would say, ‘Shush, Gabriel, it’s framing her little mind for when she’s a famous writer, too.’ Gabriel Ryan never liked the idea of his daughter growing up, even when she was grown and sitting at his bedside while they took the intubators out of his chest and lungs. “In this course, we are going to be focusing on William Shakespeare’s poetry collection and a few of his playwrights, including my personal favorite, The Twelfth Night. Our discussion groups will be online, and you will be expected to attend every Monday and Wednesday to discuss in person with the whole class. Annotations will be with your partner and individual for every unit, every piece of writing we analyze. Collection of annotations will be done before the exams and given back within a week’s time.” Caroline is focused on picking at hairs on her thighs when her name is shouted out from the podium. “Harry Styles and Caroline Ryan, you’ll be my first set of annotation partners.”

Harry turns in his chair and gives a smile towards Caroline. Caroline nods, smiles, and goes back to focusing on her skin, a speckling maroon dot on her skin in the shape of a moon telling her that she’s gone too far, once again. Caroline can feel Harry’s eyes – that’s who she suspects it is, anyways – on her as the professor announces the rest of the students’ partners for the workshopping annotations, and she nearly looks away from her thighs long enough to meet the stare of the person doing so, but by the time she lifts her head, there are four new marks in her thigh and Professor Rigsby is announcing what textbooks they’ll need for the term and that the class will be short today as they’re only going over the syllabus and their first reading.

Donald Rigsby ends class a staggering ten minutes early – which for him, is impressive – and Caroline is nearly the first one out the door. Nearly, is the key word; that is until she spills her books and notebooks out of her hands and onto the carpet of the hallway of the English Department. Hands littered with rings start to grab the books around her and slide the materials into her knapsack, hurrying the other students around them and eyes drilling holes into her scalp as she continues to stare at the ground, not daring to look up. Only does she lift her head to mutter a quiet, ‘Thank you’.

“Of course,” Harry says calmly, smoothly, his voice silky in every syllable as his enunciations blend together. “Maybe, I was thinking, we should exchange numbers, you know, to work on the annotations?”

“Emails would probably be best,” Caroline says kindly with a forced smile, nodding her head towards the hallway to the elevators and beginning to walk, Harry quickly following and walking alongside her. “Have everything on record, and all that, you know?”

“Hey, Callie!” Liv shouts from across the hallway, skipping happily towards her and leaving her boyfriend behind as he carries his textbooks in one hand and a backpack over his shoulder. “Harry?”

“Hey, Liv,” Harry smiles, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and waving towards the two walking towards them. “Hey, Niall.”

That’s Liv’s boyfriend’s name. Niall. How come I couldn’t remember that? Caroline wonders thoughtfully, shaking her head and smiling at her best friend and her boyfriend as they step in front of her and her newfound partner, analyzing the situation ahead of them without saying a word.

“Funny that you two have a class together! Not to mention, that we’re all in the same building. The four of us can walk to class together, now. Harry, did you know Callie before this?” Liv asks, smiling to herself as her boyfriend intertwines their fingers together and begins walking towards the elevators. Liv, although the closest thing Caroline has to a best friend, is always too excited for coincidences like this. Liv thinks it’s the universe or something, some bullshit that Caroline refuses to believe in. Gabriel Ryan wouldn’t have believed in it, therefore, why would she?

“Um, no, actually,” Harry says, almost nervously, as though he is trying to find the right words to describe the situation at hand. “Professor Rigsby introduced us, and we’re partners for our annotations.”

“Good ole Rigsby and his annotations,” Niall laughs, clicking on the button for the lobby of the building and kissing Liv’s temple as she lays her head on his shoulder sweetly. “Thank God, we don’t have him, this semester. One more round of annotations and group discussions and it would’ve made me lose my mind.”

“I like Rigsby,” Caroline chimes in, brushing her fingers through her hair and ignoring the way her rings get caught in the curtain bangs that are framing her forehead. “Rigsby is a big fan of my dad.”

Harry tilts his head in confusion and furrows his eyebrows. “Of your dad?”

Caroline sighs, trying to hold back tears and bites on her fingernail. “Gabriel Ryan is, was, my father.”

Harry’s jaw gapes open, his hand immediately reaching into his back pocket and going on his phone, opening an application and clicking on something to show her. Caroline peeks over and looks at what he’s trying to show her – a picture from one of her father’s last concerts – and nods solemnly, smiling at the memory of the night that was so perfect and so surely one of the best nights of her life. Gabriel Ryan’s farewell tour was two years ago, a farewell tour to settle into retired life and write music for fun and focus on his daughter. Gabriel Ryan’s farewell tour was two years ago, and the picture that Harry showed her, was a year before the worst day of Caroline’s life.

“The ‘Must Bid You Adieu Tour’,” Caroline says fondly, smiling to herself and slinging her backpack over her shoulder as they all begin to walk out of the elevator and into the lobby of the building, people bustling around them and hurrying to their next class. “That was the best tour, the ‘Bid You Adieu’ Tour. Had the biggest shows ever on that tour. There’s a picture of the audience from the Staples Center hanging in my living room.”

Harry is quiet for a moment, waiting for Liv or Niall or Caroline to speak, and when they’re silent, his voice cracks and says, “I’m really sorry about your father, Caroline. Can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you. Especially to find him.”

Caroline swallows thickly and nods, taking her sunglasses from her hair and sliding the metal over her face, hiding the way her eyes are watering and there is a red line circulating her deeply brown irises. Caroline’s freckles line her nose and her cheeks, and there is a singular braid plaited down her head behind her curtain bangs that Harry takes notice of. Gabriel Ryan’s spitting image, now that Harry thinks of it.

“Um, yeah, it wasn’t great,” Caroline says with a dry laugh, shaking her head and taking a step towards the exit with her keys swinging in her hand. “Harry, um, email me and we can get started on the annotations for next week. Liv, I’ll see you at home?”

“Niall’s going to drive me in a little bit. Think we’re grabbing lunch. That’s what we’re doing, right, baby?” Liv smiles, taking Caroline’s hand before she can walk away and squeezing it gently, turning over her shoulder to look at her boyfriend who’s already started talking quietly to his friend.

“That’s right, yeah,” Niall says coolly, smacking Harry’s arm and turning to face Caroline as she walks further towards the exit. “Callie, you’re still coming for dinner, tonight, right?”

“Um, yeah, we’ll see,” Caroline smiles, nodding her head and biting at her bottom lip until the skin is breaking and she can taste the familiar metallic sense on her tongue. “Might have some work to get done first, but I’ll try to make it.”

“Come on, Callie,” Niall whines, shaking his head and clicking his tongue at her disgracefully. “Mitch will be there and he’s bringing Sarah, Harry’s coming, you have to come.”

“I’ll try to make it,” Caroline swears, nodding her head towards the exit and clutching her backpack tighter to her chest. “I’ll see you later, Liv.”

Harry looks between Niall and Liv and sighs, wondering quietly to himself if Caroline is always so hostile and guarded towards new people. He nearly asks Liv the question, wondering aloud if he had said or done something to bother her, but Liv cut to the chase. “Don’t take it personally, Harry.”

Harry looks between Niall and Liv and says, “Take what personally, exactly?”

“Caroline’s, um, demeanor,” Liv says quietly, turning her head to make sure that Caroline’s disappeared from the vicinity before speaking. “Caroline is just guarded, that’s all. Makes people work to get to know her.” Liv lets go of Niall’s hand and walks closer to Harry, holding her index finger to his chest and saying sternly, “Callie’s schoolwork is her biggest priority, making sure that she gets to graduation, so I swear to God, Harry, if you do anything to mess with her or ruin her grade in that class, I’ll ruin your life. That’s a promise.”

“Got it,” Harry says, shaking his head and taking a step away from her, his hands held in the air in surrender and his green eyes wide. “Is Caroline, like, depressed, or something? Guess anyone would be after what happened to her father, but you know. It’s been over a year. Hasn’t it? Hasn’t she, like, gotten over it, by now?” Harry says the word as though it’s a swear and it’s forbidden, his voice lowered and tempered. “Guess like, what other reason would she have for not wanting to come to a party with all her friends?”

“Callie has her reasons. That’s not something you just get over, Harry. Callie’s father taking his own life isn’t something you get over,” Liv says softly, delicately trying to say things without invading Caroline’s personal information to share. “Everyone has their reasons, Harry. It’s not my place to share those reasons, those issues with you. That’s Callie’s choice.” Liv turns to face him, once more. “And by the way, Caroline goes by Callie.”

“Got it, Liv.”

* * *

Harry emailed Caroline as soon as he and Niall got back to their apartment that afternoon.

Caroline, I’m free for annotating The Twelfth Night, this Sunday. I figure we should do it before our discussion posts are due, so I’m thinking we should meet earlier in the day. Maybe around 2? Let me know your thoughts.

Harry Styles

Harry worded it differently about three times, changing the phrasing and the context and the juxtaposition of his words nearly a dozen times before deciding to send it. Harry isn’t sure why he feels a sense of nervousness looming over him, why the idea of being rejected is bothering him so much. Harry has Anna Marie – never call her by her first name or she will raise hell – his girlfriend of three years, to be exact, so it’s not like he’s intimidated by her in that sense, in a romantic way. Things have been rocky with Anna Marie lately, so maybe that’s why - it’s the residual nerves that he feels. That makes sense. That has to be why.

Maybe, you know, maybe, Caroline is pretty. But that doesn’t have anything to do with why Harry is afraid of being rejected, though. Of course not.

“Harry, is Anna Marie coming, tonight?” Niall asks, pulling Harry out of his thoughts and away from his reading. Harry was already reading the text for the weekend, periodically checking his email to see if Caroline responded. Harry nods without saying a word, hating himself for inviting her. “Christ Almighty. Love you, mate, but holy fuck, she’s annoying.”

Believe me, I get it. Do you think I don’t know that? Harry thought to himself.

“Anna has her moments,” Harry says, cracking his neck and knuckles and leaning back in his chair, moving his hair away from his forehead and sighing deeply. “Caroline,” he says hesitantly, instantly drawing his friend’s attention back and causing him to stop in his tracks, “is she seeing anyone?”

“Harry, no,” Niall sterns, shaking his head and taking a seat at the chair across from him. “Look, Callie is a nice girl, but she’s fucked in the head, mate. Like proper fucked. Especially since her dad passed away. Liv is her best friend and wouldn’t say anything, but you’re mine and I’ll say something, as much as we love the girl. Callie ...Callie is so nice, and she really cares about all of her friends and all that, but she’s not dating material, not now at least. Especially not you.”

“Fuck is that supposed to mean?” Harry asks accusatively, crossing his arms in front of his chest and furrowing his brows at his best friend. “Especially not you. The hell is that supposed to mean, mate?”

“Harry, you don’t really get mental health shit,” Niall says, shrugging his shoulders and leaning against the back of the chair. “Like, I told you about my anxiety in small spaces, my claustrophobia, you said to take a deep breath and to not be in small spaces.”

Harry looks at Niall with utter confusion and a seemingly lack of care. “I mean, what else are you supposed to do, Niall? Makes sense, doesn’t it? Get nervous in small spaces, don’t go in small spaces.”

“My point exactly.” Niall shakes his head and stands up, brushing his hands over his face and sighing a deep breath, trying to get the point across to his best friend to no avail. “Also, you have Anna Marie. For what reason are you asking if she’s single or not? Callie is practically engaged, by the way.”

Harry isn’t sure why he feels hurt by this. He just met the girl. He barely knows her. Other than the fact that she has more issues than he’s even slightly aware of. “Engaged? Already?”

“Max and Callie have been dating since she’s eighteen or nineteen, I think. Liv explained everything to me, but I forget most of it. It’s all a long story. Everything with Callie is. Callie is basically only still with him because he met her father and her father approved of him,” Niall says with a shrug, pursing his lips together and taking a swig from his beer.

“That’s kind of shitty, isn’t it? Only being with someone because your father approved of them.”

Niall laughs sarcastically, shaking his head and setting his beer on the table. “All right, Mr. Nobility, why are you dating Anna Marie if you don’t like her?”

“Fair enough,” Harry shrugs his shoulders and nods, swallowing thickly and looking back at his email. “Caroline hasn’t emailed me back.”

“Maybe she’s on her way here,” Niall reasons, standing up and walking into the kitchen to finish the burgers and fries – vegetarian options for Callie and Liv already made – that he’s making for dinner for their miniature party that they’re having, liquors already set on the table ready to be consumed. “Liv texted me and said they were driving over. Max can’t come tonight; he’s studying for some law school exam. Think it’s for a huge internship or something at a huge firm in the city.”

“Nice.” Harry can’t pinpoint why he feels so hostile towards Max, already. He’s never even met the guy. His character must be upstanding if Caroline introduced him to Gabriel Ryan, and to be practically engaged at the age of twenty-four. Harry can’t pinpoint why he feels this way, but he knows that he absolutely despises it.

Harry hates feeling jealous. Over anything, really. Harry gets so bothered by it, that it makes his skin crawl in the most disgusting way.

Knocking on the door pulls Harry out of his daydream, out of his trance. Niall quickly hurries to the front of the apartment, wiping his hands on a towel and opening the door, his girlfriend immediately wrapping her arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly. Caroline walks inside, eyes meeting Harry’s as she walks through the hallway and into the living room where their dining table is set with wines and tequilas and vodkas for their consumption later in the night. Harry smiles softly, nodding his head and closing his computer, standing and walking towards Caroline and nearly opening his arms for a hug.

Then Harry realizes, he barely knows her.

“Hey, I got your email,” Caroline says, speaking as though she’s rehearsed it. “Usually, I’d rather do the annotations earlier than Sunday, since that’s when our discussions are due, but this week it’ll do. Maybe, next week we can meet on Friday.”

“Oh, all right,” Harry says solemnly, his cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. “Um, yeah, Friday works, yeah.”

“Harry!” a shrieking voice shouts walking into the apartment, and immediately there are three separate groans at the girl’s appearance. Anna Marie’s – there’s no one else that frustrates their group as much with simply the sound of her voice – platinum blonde hair is pin straight, cascading down her back, and her face is painted with a minimal array of blush and bronzer and mascara. “Harry, hi, baby. How are you?”

Harry forces a smile and kisses her cheek, sighing a heavy breath when she whines and grabs his cheeks and coaxes a kiss to her lips. Anna Marie smiles, then, turning to face Caroline and says, “This is?”

“Caroline Ryan, my annotation partner for the Shakespearean Literature course I’m taking,” Harry says, smiling and reaching for a stray beer on the table, popping the cap and taking a swig. “Caroline is Gabriel Ryan’s daughter.”

“Holy shit,” Anna Marie says, shaking Caroline’s hand and slinking back into Harry’s side, her arms wrapped around his waist, his arm resting around her shoulder. “Harry and I went to the last tour together with Niall and Mitch. Concert of a lifetime.”

“That’s for sure,” Niall says, walking into the living room with his girlfriend under his arm and taking a seat at the table, pulling Liv onto his thigh and taking a swig of his beer. “Enough of that, I’m sure Callie doesn’t want to spend her night out talking about that.”

Caroline nods thankfully at Niall, smiling softly at her best friend and reaching for a glass and the red wine. Grabbing for her phone in her back pocket, she already aches to leave and be with her boyfriend and be comfortable in the safety of his apartment. Caroline practically lives with Max on the weekends, living with Liv in an apartment on campus during the week, and today is one of those days where she wishes she stayed in the comfort of his apartment and in his arms. Max gets Caroline, knows when she takes her medication, understands her swings, the Lights On, Lights Off. Max gets it, and that’s more than she could say about anyone that she knows, including Liv, sometimes.

Caroline’s father was the exception. Gabriel Ryan got Caroline better than anyone else could.

Gabriel Ryan was a seasoned professional at handling Bipolar Disorder. That’s what Caroline always says, at least. Gabriel Ryan, who became famous at the young age of twenty-three, only three years before his girlfriend, Lucy, got pregnant with their daughter, later to be named Caroline, after their favorite song. Bipolar Disorder I, the more hyper-manic and hyper-depressive form of Bipolar Disorder, overwhelmed his life as a teenager, making him suicidal and attempt suicide nearly three times before being sent to an inpatient facility where he wrote his the very first album on the sheets of paper given to him during their music therapy time. Gabriel Ryan got discovered through a series of restaurant gigs in the city, signing to Columbia Records at the age of twenty. Gabriel Ryan met Lucy at his very first paid gig with Columbia, and they were together for six years before they decided to get married and have a baby. That is until Lucy discovered that their daughter, sweet Caroline Elizabeth – named after the song that played at every show because it was Gabriel’s favorite and the royal name that Lucy had an obsession with – was suffering from the same fate as her father at the earliest age of six years old. Lucy didn’t last long after that, leaving Gabriel to live a life of stardom and fatherhood with only himself and Caroline. Caroline was Gabriel’s pride and joy, his heart and soul, his everything.

Gabriel Ryan carried his daughter with him everywhere, seeing every sight known to man from the comfort of their tour bus and their hotel rooms and the hidden moments with security walking around to protect her. Truthfully, Gabriel Ryan never cared about himself; he solely cared about his daughter. Of all the places they travelled to, the Grand Canyon was their favorite spot, their prized place, though. The Grand Canyon, where Gabriel took Caroline once a year, from the time she was twelve until she was in university and an adult, was the spot where she felt completely free for once in her life. This place, this safe space, started as a miniature vacation after a stint in the hospital for inpatient treatment when Caroline was beginning to hurt herself a bit too much for Gabriel to contain and handle. The Grand Canyon was his way of bringing his daughter closer to the world, to show her that although she felt small against the world and a bit too much to handle, there was so much of the world for her to see, for her to experience. Gabriel Ryan wanted to show his daughter that the hurting, the crying, the pain of her mother leaving, the harm to herself, the ache would end, that it wasn’t her fault, that she could overcome anything.

Caroline remembers their very first real conversation about her mother like it was yesterday, the way it was the moment that changed everything, that made her believe she would never walk through the world alone, not as long as her father was by her side.

* *

Southern California Hospital, Hollywood, 2006

Caroline Elizabeth Ryan, Age 12

Gabriel Ryan is escorted into a private room with his daughter for them to speak, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach as he notices the bandages wrapped around her forearms and wrists to prevent her from digging her nails into her skin anymore. His heart aches for his daughter, properly aches and twists and churns in writhing pain, wishing he was able to take the pain his baby experiences and add it to his own. Gabriel could take it; what’s a little bit more if Caroline doesn’t have to hurt anymore?

“Hi, Cal,” Gabriel sighs, taking a seat on the chairs grounded in the linoleum floor and laying his hands in his lap awkwardly, unsure if his daughter would want him to hold her, right now. “Are you ready to talk about why you’re doing this?”

“Doing what?” Caroline smiles, shrugging her shoulders and crossing her ankles beneath the chair, pursing her lips together and folding her hands on her thighs. “Dad, I’m not doing anything.”

“Callie,” he says warningly, narrowing his eyes and turning his attention the bandages on her wrist and the thinness of her hair. “Caroline Elizabeth, I need you to talk to me.”

“Isn’t Mom supposed to come, too? I’ll talk to you when Mom gets here.”

Gabriel sighs sadly, leaning his forearms on his knees and resting his cheeks in his hands, his eyes welling with tears at the thought alone. “Caroline, sweetheart, Mom isn’t coming.”

“Mom isn’t coming, today.”

Gabriel knows what this is, the denial. Of the first stages of grief, as he’s learned through therapy, denial is one of the hardest to work through. Grief is hard to work through. Gabriel doesn’t quite understand why this is happened now, not that this is new or anything, it’s been nearly two years since Lucy left Caroline and him. Two years since Lucy up and left without a letter or a reason. Lucy sent a card to Caroline for her birthday, this year, and Caroline refused to let Gabriel see it, to read it, and it was only when she was in the hospital for making herself bleed so badly across her arms that her skin started scarring that Gabriel was able to see what the letter had said exactly.

Mental illnesses like yours and your father’s will always get in the way of a family.

Gabriel threw the letter out as soon as he read it, as soon as he read the horrible things that were written inside of it. His stomach twisted with disgust for the woman, the way she spoke in such a demeaning manner toward their daughter and spoke about how her leaving was her fault, that Gabriel, the man that would raise her, his mental disorder – subsequently, their daughter’s mental disorder, as well – is to blame for the reason their family would never be able to work the right way.

Gabriel wonders how anyone could say such a thing to their own child. He could never, would never say such a thing to Caroline, whether he believed so or not, and he certainly wouldn’t leave her. Caroline is his whole life, the reason he does absolutely anything and everything at all.

“Callie,” Gabriel says slowly, reaching for her hands and grabbing them, taking her much smaller ones into his hands and clutching her wrists, careful of the bandaging and the gauze that seems to have been torn at the corners, as if Caroline was trying to get through to her skin, once again. “Callie, Mom isn’t coming today, tomorrow, or ever. Mom knows you’re here and didn’t want to come.”

“That’s not true! Mom would’ve come if she knew I was having an episode! Mom would’ve come!” Caroline is growing frantic, and her breathing is rapid and nearly out of sorts, coming in too heavy and too quickly for Gabriel to try and talk her through. “Mom would’ve come, Dad. Mom loves me. Mom loves us. We’re Mom’s family.”

“Deep down, I’m sure Mom loves you very much, baby,” Gabriel says sadly, solemnly, trying to choose his words carefully and not dare to utter anything that would tip her over the edge so soon. “As a matter of fact, I know Mom loves you. Mom just doesn’t know how to show it to people like us.”

“Mom has time to practice, we just have to show her,” Caroline justifies, shaking her head and standing up and walking towards the door, folding her arms in front of her chest and sighing out a deep breath, her eyes welling with tears as she thinks about the letter and the words and knowing that that is the likely the last time she’ll ever hear from her mother, ever again. “Daddy, why won’t she let us show her?”

Gabriel stands on his feet and walks towards his daughter, laying his hands on her shoulders and waiting for her to turn around into his arms, his words laced in disappointment and sadness as he says, “I don’t know, baby.”

“I want Mom to love me for me,” she whimpers, wrapping her arms around his midsection and crying into his chest, her thumbs and forefingers digging into her palms and the heels of her hands tightly, squeezing and squeezing until the pressure builds and releases into her veins. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing,” he says, kissing her hair and sweetly rocking their bodies back and forth, trying to comfort her in the way he knows how. Gabriel knows that sometimes nothing is going to work the way it should comfort his daughter, and he simply has to live with that. “My love, you did nothing wrong.”

“Clearly, I did something to make her leave me, Dad.”

“Mom left us, Callie. Mom left you and me.” Gabriel sucks in a breath and allows a singular tear to fall into his daughter’s hair, sucking back the remaining ones and trying to hold himself together. “I swear to you, Caroline, I’ll never leave you.”

Caroline looks at her father with the brightest, widest eyes he’s ever seen, nearly impossible to resist looking into and swearing up and down whatever she wanted. Caroline was Gabriel’s daughter, after all. “Never ever? Mean that?”

“Never. Mean that, always.”

* *

“Callie,” Liv calls, ripping Caroline out of her daydream and smiling softly. “Niall made burgers for us, are you hungry?”

“Um, not really,” Caroline says, smiling forcedly and shaking her head, sipping her drink lightly and reaching for her phone to text her boyfriend, silently hoping that he hadn’t made it home already to have to drive all the way back to get her. “Actually, I think I’m going to head out early. I’m not feeling too great, and I forgot that I was supposed to help Max study for his exam that’s coming soon. I’m sorry. I should go, though.”

“Callie, you just got here,” Niall groans, leaning his head back against his neck and sighing when his girlfriend smacks his knee. “All right. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Caroline lies through her teeth. “Niall, I’m fine! Really.”

“No, Callie,” Niall says again, shaking his head and setting his beer down. Caroline had only been at the party for a mere thirty minutes, and the last twenty minutes have been zoned out of their conversation, thinking about something with a blank stare and glossy eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Thank you for asking, I’m okay.” Caroline’s phone vibrates in her hand, her screen lighting with her boyfriend’s contact and his simple text telling her that he’s on his way. “Max is on his way. I’m going to wait outside.”

“Do you want me to come, Callie?” Liv wonders concernedly, standing from Niall’s lap and walking towards her, holding out her hands to squeeze her arms sweetly. “I can come. I’ll wait with you.”

“No, it’s okay.”

Caroline takes her things and walks to the front door, her best friend following closely behind, hugging her tightly and telling her to text her when she’s with her boyfriend. Caroline nods solemnly and forces a smile through gritted teeth, and Liv can tell that something is wrong, and she immediately wants to chew out Anna Marie for bringing up her father and talking about such a touchy subject so carelessly. Over a year later and Caroline still couldn’t speak about her father without breaking down into tears. Could anyone even blame her? Caroline found her father in his bedroom, overdosing and slightly conscious, in their family home. That’s not something you can get over, so simply. Caroline did everything she could to save him, but it didn’t work.

Caroline lives with that guilt, every single day.

“Love you, Callie,” Liv says softly, hugging her best friend and squeezing her tightly. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Liv, I’m okay, I swear.” Caroline leaves shortly after that, hiding away in her boyfriend’s car and breaking down into tears in his passenger seat, his hand squeezing her thigh and interlocking their fingers as she gathers her emotions and sniffles wetly. Max asks what’s wrong, concern and worry etched into his boyish features, his slight stubble on his cheek rough against her hand as he kisses her knuckles. “Max, I want to go home.”

Caroline doesn’t know, however, that Harry followed her outside, that he hurried out the door, ignoring the calls of his girlfriend and their friends, ready to apologize profusely for bringing up her father and his concerts and such a touchy subject, once again. Harry didn’t listen, as he usually doesn’t, and it’s come back to bite him in the ass. Harry’s emotions are all over the place when he sees Caroline and Max in the car together, the way she looks so comfortable and safe with him. He isn’t sure why he’s so bothered by this, he doesn’t even know her, but the idea that he hurt her and someone else is having to comfort her makes his skin itch. Harry stands there until they drive away, panting from racing down the stairs and hurrying out the door, trying to make it in time.

Harry stalks up the stairs, sulking and upset, walking inside and rolling his eyes at the sight of five pairs of eyes on him as he steps inside the apartment. Niall shakes his head with disapproval and Mitch snorts out a laugh, Liv rolling her eyes with Sarah. Anna Marie immediately takes his hand and pulls him to the side to reprimand him for leaving her so suddenly and without any warning.

That’s where Harry decides he’s had enough. Harry has had enough of Anna Marie. Harry has had enough of her and her reprimanding and her rules and regulations and the stipulations of their relationship. Harry has simply had enough.

Maybe it has something to do with Caroline. Maybe it’s the infatuation that he already seems to have with her because she’s so closed off from the world. Maybe it’s the unknown and the obsession that Harry’s had with her father that is making him so infatuated with the idea of her, that is making her the center of his thoughts for the last six hours. Maybe it’s all of those things combined.

All that Harry knows, for sure, that he is that he is done with Anna Marie, and there’s nothing that he wants more than to be alone for the rest of the evening, drinking with his friends, thinking about the mysterious girl that he may call his partner. That’s all Harry wants, now.

Harry’s sister lays her hands on the table dramatically and his mother feigns a smile on her lips as Caroline sighs and takes a sip of her water, pausing momentarily before continuing the story, Harry��s hand gently on her lower back to encourage her. “Harry, you made her cry,” Gemma says from the side of the table, earning a groan from Harry and a snicker from Caroline. “What a way to make a first impression, H. Way to go.”

“Hey. Go easy on him. Harry made up for it,” Caroline says hesitantly, shaking her head side to side and shrugging her shoulders. “Eventually.”

“Eventually,” Liv says from beside her, clicking her tongue and looking over the table to eye Harry. “Only took him a solid six months to get his act together.”

“Hey, in my defense, I did go to apologize,” Harry says, holding his hands up in the air and shrugging his shoulders. “Callie was already gone by the time I got there.”

Caroline looks to Harry with tears in her eyes, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she says, “Came to apologize?”

“Originally, I didn’t want to let you leave thinking I only cared about talking about such a sensitive subject. It was insensitive of me, to say all those things, back then. I was quite insensitive, I’ll say,” Harry tells her, ignoring the onlooking stares from their friends and family and solely focusing on his fiancée, taking her hand from the table and kissing her knuckles sweetly. “I know that’s not why you hated me, though. Can go on and tell them why.” Caroline looks at Harry concernedly. “Cal, it’s okay. It’s not going to hurt my feelings.”

“Go on, Callie,” Gemma encourages, taking a sip of her champagne and leaning into her boyfriend at the table. “Tell us why you hated my little brother, over there.”

“Well, I started to hate Harry because he nearly skipped our annotations session,” Caroline says shamefully, casting her head to her chest and looking at her feet beneath the fabric of the tablecloth. “Then, Harry gave me many other reasons in the midst of it.”

“Hey, hey,” Harry says warningly, squeezing the back of her thigh beneath the table and grinning wildly when she smacks his arm away. “Be nice, Caroline. This is our engagement party.”

“In your dreams, Harry.”

Caroline and Harry talk amongst themselves and their guests for hours after the story comes to an end, Harry nearly tearing up at the part where Caroline admits when she first realizes she was in love with him and not simply hating him. Certainly, there is a fine line between the two, mistakable for either hatred or love, and Caroline had a hard time discerning between the two. Harry didn’t know many of these things, seeing things from her perspective for the very first time since they started dating five years ago and they talked out their differences and their boundaries. Harry’s heart is in it completely, staring at her with so much love and adoration that it’s nearly impossible to tear away when the restaurant is beginning to close and their friends and family and slowly making their way out, thanking the two for the invitation and the wonderful evening.

Harry takes Caroline’s hand immediately, squeezing her fingers that are interlocked with his and kissing her knuckles as he always does, opening the car door for her and closing it when she settles in her seat. He makes his way around the driver’s side, his chest already tight with a feeling, and his feeling is confirmed when his fiancée is hunched over herself in the front seat, crying hysterically into her hands. His hand immediately finds its way to her back, rubbing soothingly, his other hand unlocking her seatbelt and gently prying her away from her seat to sit in his lap, her dress bunched around her thighs and face falling into his neck as the tears wet his suit jacket.

“Know that was a lot for you, today,” Harry says calmly, rubbing his hands along her spine and squeezing her thighs, waving away his sister that is peering in through the window and waving her hands to try and grab his attention. “Know that was a lot for you when you’re not feeling great, but I’m so proud of you, Callie. Need you to know that. I am so proud of you, baby. Talked the whole time and your words commanded the whole room’s attention. Great storyteller, that’s what you are. That’s why people are going to read your novels. That’s why people love you. It’s why I love you.”

“My father should’ve been here. My mother should be here,” Caroline whispers into his neck, sniffling and trying to regain control of her emotions as she sits on his thighs and toys with the buttons on the bottom half of his blouse. “Of course, though, I’m alone. Again. I’m always alone, Harry.”

“Caroline Elizabeth Ryan, you are not alone.” Harry takes Caroline’s chin between his fingertips and holds it eye-level with him, shaking his head and kissing her nose to lighten the strictness of his voice. “Callie, you’re never alone as long as I’m around. I’ll always be right by your side.”

“That’s what my father said.”

Harry knows how harshly the depression roots itself in Caroline, and this is the worst of it, when it reminds her that the strongest person that she knows lost their battle against the overwhelming enemy that she’s known her entire life. “Gabriel did everything he could to keep the Lights On for you, Callie. He just, he couldn’t do it anymore.”

“How does that make you any different? That was my father, and he couldn’t stay alive for me!”

“Callie,” Harry sighs, cupping her jaw instead of holding it tightly and gently caressing her cheek with his thumb, “Callie, I swear to God, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Harry, I didn’t even want to come to our engagement party. That’s horrible. That’s horrible of me! How could you want to be with someone who’s brain barely functions and their excitement never lasts and I’m so fucking moody all the damn time that even I can’t keep it straight! I told your mother and your sister why I hated you from the beginning, and I didn’t even get to explain everything. I’m a horrible person. I’m not good, Harry. I don’t want this for you. I love you enough to tell you that you deserve better.”

“Have you ever thought, for a single second, that maybe you are the best thing that has ever happened to me? Have you ever even thought about that?” Harry whispers, gently taking her hands and kissing her fingertips, coaxing her eyes to meet his. Caroline was never one for eye contact, and it’s always when the Lights are Off that it’s the worst.

“Me?” Caroline sniffles, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to look into Harry’s eyes, the light green irises staring back at her making her melt in his arms. “How on Earth could you possibly mean that, Harry? Mean to tell me, you really mean to tell me that you won’t look back on our marriage in ten years and want to divorce me because I’m too much to handle and I’m never happy for more than a month at a time, and even then, it’s not a real type of happy, it’s the mania at play.” Caroline sucks in a deep breath and keeps going, Harry looking at her silently, waiting for a moment to get a word in. “Harry, I go to the beach at three in the morning to feel something, I rarely sleep, I am either hyper-depressed or hyper-manic and there’s no in between. Can’t forget that when I actually sleep it’s for, like, fifteen hours of the day, and it makes me not want to look pretty or act nice or do anything that I have to do. Harry, I’m a mess.” Caroline looks at Harry with tears in her eyes, her chest heaving with panted breaths as she finishes her ramble and sucks in a shaky breath to try and regain control of her emotions.

“Are you finished?” Caroline nods silently. “Caroline,” Harry says Caroline’s whole name for emphasis, and she knows it, “I will go to the beach at three in the morning. I will sleep in the back of our car. I will stay awake for days to make sure that you’re not alone. Once you crash, I’ll let you sleep, I’ll stay with you, then I’ll wake you up and I’ll eat with you and I’ll shower with you and I’ll make sure that you’re doing the things you need to do to be okay, to function, and then I’ll lay in bed with you, and I’ll hold you until you feel like you can get out of bed and do it all over again. Callie, I don’t care that things are a little bit messy, okay? I love you. All of you, for who you are. I love that brain inside your head, and I love the way you speak about me and I love the way you love me. I don’t care about anything else. I only care about you. I love you. I love you so much that it hurts me to see you this way. I need you to understand that, Callie. I need you to really understand that. I’m not going anywhere. I’m with you, I’m always going to be with you. No matter where, no matter when.”

Caroline’s tears fall into Harry’s palms, his thumbs brushing the streaks away from her cheeks and onto his skin, his heart falling apart for the woman in his arms. Caroline’s heart is so pure, caring so deeply about him to make sure that this is what he wants, that he’s sure that he’ll have to reassure her every day of their lives. That Harry doesn’t mind as much, Harry minds that her brain makes her think he doesn’t want this, want her. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. That’s not what we do.”

Caroline nods understandingly and swallows a thick lump in her throat, sniffling a heavy and shaky breath and says, “Thank you for listening to me and caring for me. I love you. Kiss?”

Harry purses his lips into a shy smile that Caroline loves, her mouth twitching at the corner into a smile when she leans forward and kisses him softly, their lips synchronizing together so perfectly, as though their lips were made to be on each other’s all along. Harry looks to Caroline, once more, sighing and pursing his lips as he says, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m with you, I swear to you.”

𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @goldenbabys-world, @burberryharold, @stylesfics-xx, @grace-ful-gold, @summertimestyles

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your-eternal-muse · 4 years

Text

Wish I Were....

Heather Series Chapter 12 (FINAL PART)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Bonus!:Readers Card Confession Bonus!:To Hold On, To Let Go, Spencers take Bonus!:Series Playlist

Summery: Reader no longer wishes she were someone else

Words: 4k

Warnings: Swearing, Description of Birth, just pure, tooth aching fluff

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Y/N: This is it y’all. This is the final chapter of the Heather's Series. I started this journey a little over a month ago, and my god, has it been amazing. I never thought it would pick up the traction it did, and I am so glad I decided to start posting in the first place. I’m gonna take a short break from posting any writing just to recuperate and stuff, but it won’t last longer than a week, and I will still be interacting on the platform itself. I want to thank every single reader who has liked and/or reblogged my work. It means so much to me, and I would not have gotten this far without your support. I love you all with all of my heart. There will be one more bonus “chapter” that I will be posting within the next couple days, but it’ll be mostly headcanons, and answering any questions you may have about the series. I hope the ending is worth it.

With love, your eternal muse,

Frankie <3

~~~~~

I used to be a night owl.

I used to live in the night, sit under the stars and soak it all up.

I used to not go to bed until hours after the sunset, perfectly content to not waking up until hours after it had risen.

Now, I’m lucky to sleep for a few hours between dusk and dawn.

But I’m okay with that.

The ringing of trembling tears echoes through my ears, and I stir awake.

I rub my face, looking at the clock as I push back the comforter.

4 am.

Oh goody.

“I’ve got her baby, go back to sleep.”

Spencer whispers in my ear, planting a kiss on my shoulder, and I’m not one to argue.

I fall back into the pillows, pulling the blanket back up to my chin, my eyes closing without much resistance.

I wake an hour late, expecting to feel his body warmth against my back.

I turn, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, realizing that the blanket is still pulled back from when he got up the hour before.

Oh dear lord please tell me she didn’t get sick.

I climb out of bed, padding down the hallway towards the soft glow of light emitting from her room.

I pause at the doorway, watching as he holds her close to his chest, a smile draped across his face.

I can’t help but stand and watch as he sways back and forth, watching her sleep in his arms.

I notice her tiny hand is clasped around his ring finger, the gold of his wedding band glowing in the dim light.

I love that ring on him.

I never thought I’d be the one to put it on him.

My heart is pounding in my chest.

Why am I so nervous?

He’s not going to leave me stranded.

Right?

Jesus, get a grip, y/n.

“Are you ready y/n?” Hotch walks around the corner, fixing his cuff links as he walks up to me.

I take a deep breath in, trying to convince myself that I wasn’t going to throw up.

“Yep. I’m ready, I just….” I fan myself. “Is it normal to feel like you’re going to pass out on your wedding day?”

He smiles, coming forward and taking hold of my hand. “It is. And I guarantee you, he’s worse than you are.”

I laugh, just imagining the state he’s in.

He hasn’t seen me in three days, since I’m a stickler for tradition.

It was my bachelorette party, than his bachelor party, and now here we are.

“When Haley and I got married, I was a nervous wreck. I don’t think I took a normal breath until hours after just because I was so worried about everything going to plan.”

He brushes some of the curls framing my face out of my eye sight.

“But, when I met her eyes, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. It was just us, and I knew, at that moment, that everything would be okay.”

I nod, exhaling. “Okay. I’m ready.”

He loops my arm through his, turning to the closed doors where my future waits for me.

“Thank you, Aaron. For giving me away. You’re the closest thing to a father I’ve got.”

He pats my hand. “It’s my honor, y/n.”

I hear the start of the music, and my heart jump starts.

I grip his arm, trying to control my breathing.

“Don’t let me fall.”

“Never.”

The doors open, and for a moment, I panic.

But then my eyes meet his.

And everything else disappears.

His hands are clasped in front of him, and I see him look me over, taking in everything.

Tears are streaming down both of our faces, and god, I never realized how much I missed him when he’s gone.

We reach the altar, where a proud Rossi stands, and Hotch hands me off with a kiss to my cheek.

I hand JJ my flowers, turning clasping Spencer's hands in mine.

When my hand touches his, my breathing returns to normal.

However, before I even notice, JJ is handing me a folded piece of paper that holds my vows.

Weddings always seem longer when you’re not in them.

I unfold the paper, clearing my throat.

“I don’t have an eidetic memory, so I need this so I don’t make a fool of myself.”

A couple laughs from the crowd.

Okay, here goes nothing.

“The first time I saw you, you were sitting at your desk, while Derek and JJ sat around you, watching you explain the scientific inaccuracies of Star Wars.”

He laughs, and Derek pats his shoulder from behind him.

“I was awestruck to say the least. The way your eyes lit up with excitement, how your hands couldn’t stay still.”

I take a breath, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“I fell in love with you at that moment. But I knew I was done for when you looked at me for the first time.”

Rossi produces a tissue from his pocket, and I laugh, accepting and blotting at my tears.

“You are my best friend. You are there for me in my darkest times, and are often the cause of all my light ones. You hold me when I cry, and you laugh when I’m angry at something stupid. You never make me feel stupid. You are the greatest thing to have ever happened to me.”

Christ, why was this so hard?

“I love you. And I promise to cherish you, and not get annoyed when you ramble on about god knows what, because I love to listen to you talk. I promise to never make you feel like you don’t matter, because you matter so much. I promise to love you through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, until the end of time itself. I choose you, forever and always.”

I fold the paper up again, dabbing away my tears.

“Well, look at that, I still made a fool of myself.”

More laughs, and I hear a few sniffles here and there.

Spencer wipes his own eyes. “I don’t know if I can top that.”

I giggle.

He goes into his jacket, and pulls out a white envelope, and my face scrunches in confusion.

“It’s not what you think it is.” He whispers.

He opens it, pulling out a car, and begins to read from the inside.

“You told me once, in a card similar to this one, that the moment you admitted to yourself that you loved me, was on a road trip to visit my mom. I thought it fitting that I tell you that, that was the moment I admitted to myself that I loved you in the same way. So here we are.”

I bring a hand up to my mouth, covering the ugly sobs that threaten to spill out.

“We had only known each other for a month, but you were easily taking over every brain cell in my mind. I was terrified of you saying no, but I asked anyway. Those two weeks were some of the best of my life. I fell in love with your laugh, your smile, the way your hair looks in the sunlight. I fell in love with you from the driver's seat and I’ve loved you ever since. You deserve to be reminded of that every day for the rest of your life. I promise to hold and cherish the heart that you have given me. I promise to catch you, every time you run away. I promise to protect you with my life. You mean everything to me, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of forever with you. I love you, forever and always.”

He closes it, and it takes a moment for me to gather myself.

“I promise I didn’t look at your vows before writing mine.”

I laugh.

Rossi clears his throat. “The rings please, Henry.”

Henry walks forward, our rings sitting on the pillow as he smiles at us.

“Thank you buddy.” I say, taking hold of Spencer’s between my fingers.

“Alright. Y/n, repeat after me. I, Y/n Y/l/n, take Spencer Reid, to be my husband.”

I repeat the words, a smile growing bigger and bigger on my face.

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until the end of time.”

Can I kiss him yet?

I say the words, like casting a spell, before slipping the golden band onto his finger.

Rossi repeats the phrase, and Spencer’s smile is as big as mine, if not bigger.

“Until the end of time.”

He delicately slips the ring on my finger, and my heart starts pounding.

“One more question for each of you. I promise, we're almost there.”

He smiles at each of us, before turning back to me.

“Do you, Y/n Y/l/n, take Spencer Reid as your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

Not even a question.

“And do you, Spencer Reid, take Y/n Y/l/n as your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

I start bouncing on my toes, too excited to care.

“Then it is my great pleasure and honor to pronounce you, husband and wife.”

He turns to Spencer. “You may now kiss the bride.”

He doesn’t hesitate, cradling my face in his hands as he places his lips on mine.

It’s just me and him, in an empty room.

I move my hands up his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck.

It’s only when we break, that I remember people are here, and the room is filled with applause.

With our hands clasped together we walk back down the aisle, and I swear I am never going to be this happy ever again. And that’s okay.

My eyes fall from his arms, to the dresser sitting next to her crib.

The top is covered with photos, personalized trinkets, and books.

One picture is framed with her name in gold lettering down the side.

My first sonogram.

Through the glass I can see wrinkles in the film.

Spencer carried it with him until the day she was born.

He had always mentioned how he wanted to have kids someday.

It didn’t make me any less nervous to tell him, though.

“Hello?”

“Hi! Is this Mrs. Y/n Reid?”

I stop writing, my pen mid stroke on my paper.

“This is she.”

“Hello! This is Nicole calling from United Health with the results of your pregnancy test.”

Jesus that was fast.

“Oh! That was quicker than I expected.”

I set my pen down, closing my file, pushing some hair behind my ear, looking around to see if anyone was in ear shot.

They weren’t.

“We get that a lot. But, I’d like to say congratulations! You are pregnant!”

I stop breathing for a moment.

“Oh my god. Oh my god! Thank you!”

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

“You’re so welcome! Congratulations again! Have a great rest of your day!”

I hang up, still trying to grasp the words that have just been spoken to me.

I’m pregnant.

I’m fucking pregnant.

Holy fuck.

“Y/n? Baby, are you okay?”

I snap out of my daze to see Spencer standing beside my desk, a look of skeptical worry on his face.

“Uh...yeah. Yeah. I’m fine. Um…”

I have to tell him. I can’t keep this a secret from him, even if I wanted to try and surprise him.

I stand, running my hands over my pants.

“Okay, somethings wrong. You do that when you’re nervous.”

I can’t help but laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Nothings wrong, Spence. Um, I just got a call from United Health.”

He’s confused, setting the file in his hand, down on my desk.

“Why would United Health be calling you?”

There are days when I can't believe he has an I.Q. of 187.

“I went in yesterday, to get a test done. I’ve been gaining weight, and I’ve been getting sick in the mornings. I also skipped my last period.”

I can sense the wheels beginning to turn in his head.

“Wait. Are you…”

I nod, tears falling down my cheeks. “I’m pregnant, Spencer.”

It takes a moment for the words to register in his brain, but then he’s yelling in excitement, throwing his arms around my waist, picking me up and spinning me around.

He sets me down, his eyes red rimmed, his smile one I will never forget.

“You’re pregnant. Oh my god we’re having a baby.”

His hands are placed on either side of my face, and I can’t help but laugh at his infectious excitement.

“Who’s having a baby, now?”

Derek walks up, and Spencer turns, and I know Derek knows just by the shit eating grin on Spencer’s face.

But I just love saying it.

“I’m pregnant.”

Derek’s eyes light up as he claps his hands together, before pulling Spencer into a hug. “My man!”

JJ and Emily gather around, all smiles and squeals as I’m captured in the middle of a group hug.

Penelope walks into the bullpen then, confusion written across her face.

“What’s going on out here? Why are you guys screaming? Who won the lottery?”

I bite my lip, trying to hold back the smile.

“I’m pregnant!” I all but scream.

Penelope’s expression changes in an instant as she practically runs forward.

“Oh my god! Holy crap! Baby genius! That’s so much better than the lottery!”

She catches me in a bone crushing hug before suddenly pulling back.

“Crap. Sorry. Fragile baby.”

“Congratulations baby girl.” Derek swaps places with Penelope, who is now hugging Spencer with everything she has.

“Alright, why are you guys hugging each other?”

Rossi and Hotch walk through the glass doors, taking in the commotion.

I feel Spencer wrap his arms around me from behind, as he kisses my shoulder, my neck, my cheek.

“I’m pregnant!”

A smile immediately forms on Rossi’s face as he comes forward, grasping my face between his hands, kissing me on each of my cheeks.

“Congratulations, principessa.”

“Congratulations, to both of you.”

Hotch is smiling, waiting his turn to give hugs.

“It’s decided, celebratory dinner at my place tonight!” Rossi announces and we all cheer.

I turn my head, placing my hands over Spencer’s which are now resting over my stomach.

“I love you.” I smile.

“I love you, too. Both of you.”

Soft humming breaks the silence of the room, and quiet words float through the air as he sings to her sleeping form.

“Come Josephine, in my flying machine. Going up she goes, up she goes.”

I enter the room then, tip toeing over to stand by his side, leaning my head against his shoulder as I gently stroke her hair.

“Up, up, a little bit higher. Oh! My! The moon is on fire! Come, Josephine in my flying machine going up, all on, goodbye!”

She’s tiny.

I couldn’t fathom how tiny she was a month ago, and she has grown, but she’s still so small.

Has it already been a month?

“Jesus fuck, I promised myself this wouldn’t happen at work.”

I shouldn’t have come in.

I know that.

I know that waking up with contractions is a tell tale sign that you should not go to work.

But she isn’t due for another two weeks. Two weeks is a long time. Hopefully enough time to get a grip on myself so I don’t panic that I’m gonna fail as a mother every time I think about it too hard.

I thought maybe I could just get through the day, but the warm stream trickling down my leg is a big fuck no to that.

I’m trying to steady my breathing, the cup of tea I was making abandoned on the counter as I grip the edge with a force I didn’t know I had.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?”

Hotch walks up, worry creasing his brow.

He places a hand on my back, a comfort as pain ripples up and down my spine.

I shake my head. “I need Spencer.”

I shift my weight from leg to leg. “And a towel.”

He nods his head, looking around for a chair, frowning when he comes up empty.

“Aaron,” I say, turning my head towards him. “Please go get my husband.”

“Right.” He nods, taking a second to make sure I wasn’t going to topple over before almost running towards Penelope's bat cave.

A hiss escapes my mouth as I feel a jab in my side.

“Yeah, I know baby, I wish he would hurry the fuck up too.”

A plethora of footsteps fall upon my ears, and Spencer immediately places a hand on my lower back, taking hold of mine with his other.

“How far apart are they?” is the first thing out of his mouth.

“I’m fine, honey, thanks for asking.” I say as we start to make our way towards the front glass doors.

He gives me a look and I sigh.

“I don’t know. I thought if I didn’t count they’d go away and I could pretend this isn’t happening at work.”

“I wish it worked like that.” JJ laughs, holding open the door and what I presume is my go bag.

“Me too.” I grit, squeezing Spencer’s hand.

“Remember our deal. Not one statistic, or fact is to be uttered from your mouth today. You are not a doctor once we enter the hospital.”

I can see the panic start to form on his face, but he laughs.

“Yes ma’am.”

~~~

I’m never doing this again.

I don’t think I’ve ever been in this much pain before.

I’ve been in this room for what feels like forever, because she’s taking her sweet time being early.

No amount of pillows or soothing rubs can help the aches that are washing over me.

My hair is falling from the bun I threw it up in, sweat coating every inch of skin I have.

I feel gross in every sense of the word.

I lean forward and groan as another contraction rips through me.

How do women do this?

Spencer brushes some hair out of my face and lays a cool washcloth on my neck as I grip the side rails of my bed.

“You’re doing so good baby.”

It feels like I can’t breath.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

He knows there’s not much he can do right now to help, but he holds my hand, trailing his hand up and down my back.

“Just a little bit longer. I promise. She’s almost here. You’re doing so good, y/n. I’m so proud of you.”

If only he knew about the panic flowing through my veins, the thoughts that I’m not ready to be a mom bouncing around my skull like an insistent headache.

A knock at the door, and my doctor walks in, smiles and bright eyes. “How are you feeling, y/n?”

“Like a,” I groan, trying to move away from the pain, shifting forward and backwards. “Like a million bucks.”

She laughs, and I don’t have the energy to be nice and laugh with her.

“Well, I still need to check, but I’m pretty sure you’re ready to push.”

I close my eyes, not wanting to look as she sticks her fingers in a place that will need some R&R after this.

“I was right. You’re ready. Now, your body knows exactly what to do. It’s best to not fight it, and just listen to what it’s telling you okay?”

I start to move myself back away from her, my breathing picking up pace.

I can’t do this.

“No. No. I can’t. I’m not ready.”

She doesn’t seem phased at all, but Spencer easily notices the fear in my voice.

“Hey, Hey, Hey. Look at me.” His hands stroke the sides of my face, and his fingers are wet from my tears and sweat.

I shake my head. “I’m not doing this. I’m not ready. What if I fail? I don’t want to fail her. I can’t. No. I’m gonna be a horrible mother.”

“Y/n, baby, breath with me.” He takes my hand, and places it on his chest.

I can feel his breaths beneath his breastbone, the frantic heartbeats that give away his true state of mind.

I hate that I’m stressing him out.

“You are going to be a great mother. One of the best. I don’t think you could fail even if you tried.”

He brushes my tears away. “But you can’t force your body to stop. You need to let go. I’m right here.”

“Alright, were ready, y/n.”

My eyes pass between Spencer’s and I know he’s right.

I just need to let go.

I nod, and I move back to where I was.

My left hand grips the rail, while my right is situated inside Spencer’s.

I feel the next contraction start.

“Alright I need you to push for me.”

I’m on the brink of a mental breakdown, but I take a breath and let my muscles do the work.

I hear that groaning and screaming can actually help, so that’s what I do.

With every push, my voice grows louder, words lost in the back of my throat.

But I’m getting tired, and I can feel myself crashing.

So when another contraction pulses through me, I push myself forward, and use every muscle in my body.

“Get out, get out, get out, GET OUT!”

I don’t think I’ve ever screamed that loud, but it seemed to work.

It felt like a gush and then crys fill the room.

I fall back onto the bed, tears streaming down my face.

“She’s beautiful!” I hear my doctor say over her screams.

Spencer kisses my forehead, his own tears coating his face. “You were amazing, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

“Here she is!”

My doctor lays a bundle of white blankets onto my chest, and when I see her face, my heart stops.

The world could be burning around me, but I wouldn’t care. Even covered in gunk and red faced, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I sob, holding her close to me, Spencer right there beside me, his hand gently stroking the top of her head.

“Hi, Ettie.” I whisper. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“She’s so beautiful.” He whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

I can’t take my eyes off her. I never want to let go of her.

Nothing else matters anymore, nothing but her.

Juliet Diana Reid.

Born at 6:08 am, on the third of December.

He places her in my arms, and I clutch her close to my chest as I move back towards her crib to lay her down again.

I don’t understand how I could have ever doubted how amazing my life would be with her in it.

Soft snores emit from her small mouth, and Spencer wraps his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder, only moving when he hears me sniffle.

“Why are you crying, love?” he whispers

I wipe my face, turning around so I can face him.

His hands are on my hips, his thumbs rubbing circles on my skin.

“For so long, I was jealous of so many people.” My hands play with the fabric of his t-shirt, rubbing it between my fingers.

“I was jealous of Heather. Of what she had.”

My hands move up his chest, coming to rest at the base of his neck.

“I dreamed about this. About having this with you. And I never thought I would get it. But here I am.”

I smile up at him. “I have everything I have ever wanted. I wouldn’t wish for another life even if it was offered. I have you, and Ettie, and the life I wanted so bad. I’m just…”

I swallow the noise threatening to spill from my throat, so I don’t wake up the sleeping girl behind me.

“I’m just really happy is all.”

He smiles softly down at me, and he brings up a hand to cup my cheek.

He leans down and kisses me slowly, gently, in a way that always leaves me paralyzed.

“I love you.” He whispers.

I nuzzle my nose against his, before laying my head against his chest, feeling his arms wrap around me, holding me tight against him.

“I love you, too.”

I love you, Spencer.

I love you.

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justgillespie · 3 years

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Missing (7/?)

Summary: Your next door neighbor, Luke Patterson (a.k.a. your longtime crush) has gone missing, and you think you could help finding him.

Word count: 2.7k (I think, I don’t really know lol)

Warnings: none!

•

“...And it was actually fun. I think we were all there. All the boys from the block, I mean. Josh, Victor, Lucas- what-? Stop stealing my fries!”

You and Max were at a diner, having dinner on a Friday night.

“Sorry.” You laughed. “I’m glad you had fun. You’re welcome.”

He scoffed. “Why?”

“Uh, if I didn’t tell Josh you were going, you would’ve said you weren’t. And you went and had fun. Again, you’re welcome.”

“You’re insufferable.” Max shook his head, smiling. “But, yeah. Thank you, I guess.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Speaking of Josh.” He said, grabbing some fries. “Tomorrow’s your big day.”

You rolled you eyes. “You say it like it’s gonna be our wedding. It’s just a date. I wouldn’t even call it a date yet.”

“You, maybe. Josh seems excited for your ‘simple’ date.”

You decided to take a sip of your drink instead of responding.

“You don’t seem too excited though.” He analyzed you for a moment. “Still thinking about Luke?”

“First of all, don’t look at me like that. You’re looking at me like I’m a child.” You rolled your eyes. “And second of all... well, yes, of course. I thought it would be easy to forget about a crush. It’s got to a point that’s just ridiculous.”

“By the way you say it, it doesn’t sound like a simple crush.”

“Well, it can’t be more. I don’t know him.”

“Have you ever heard about love at first sight?”

“That question shows me how little you know about love at first sight.”

“Oh, yeah?” He said, challenging. “How much do you know?”

“Enough to know that my case with Luke it’s not what you’re suggesting.”

“Come on.” He groaned. “Just accept it.”

“Accept what?”

“That you like him.”

“I do like him, that’s the thing. I like Luke without knowing who he is, exactly. That doesn’t make any sense! Just- stop it. Leave it like that.” You said before Max could say anything else. “You really just love to argue or disagree with everything I say, right?”

“If you say it like that, it sounds bad.”

“It is bad, Max.”

“Whatever.” He rolled his eyes. And you shook your head in disapproval at your friend, which he decided to ignore. “How’s Mrs. Patterson?”

You visited her that day after school, like you’ve been doing the past week.

You included visiting her as a daily activity on your schedule. You went to her house for at least an hour, go back home to study for another two, and then, you went to your dance class.

“She’s good. Better, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“She does look better.” He nodded. “I’m really glad... have you told her, though?”

You looked down to your glass of juice. “No. She haven’t asked and I never really see the need of doing so.”

You had lots of opportunities to tell her, but you never did it. After overthinking about it a lot, you ended up with the conclusion that, she wasn’t asking because maybe she already knows (courtesy of your mom), or she just really didn’t believe you could find his son.

You did promise her that you would back up if you had to. So maybe, if she knew, that’s why she wasn’t mad or upset.

But you still promised to give her that second chance...

With that thought, you looked for the guitar pick, that was still hanging around your neck, and just held it with your fingers for a second. Something that you’ve been doing a lot lately. You couldn’t take it off. You tried, but you didn’t want to, for some reason you didn’t exactly know.

Even though you weren’t doing anything to find Luke anymore, it still seemed to be something that you were calling out to do. Everything reminded you to him. Not only since you’ve been going to his house a lot, but also for other reasons. Like the fact that the posters you saw at Mrs. Patterson’s last week, were all over the neighborhood now. Maybe even further.

“I mean, if she’s not asking, I guess...” Max shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I guess...”

And still, you felt the guilt in your chest.

“Anyways, where are you going tomorrow? With Josh.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think we said any place in specific.”

“We’ll see about that then... if you wanted fries, why didn’t you buy some?! Stop eating mine!”

•

The next day, the hot whether made you wear a nice and simple sundress to go out with Josh.

Your sister was finishing combing your hair when you heard the doorbell ring, and you two went downstairs.

Your dad opened the door. You weren’t worried about that since he did know Josh and his parents, but if this worked out, you weren’t too far from getting a similar lecture like the one Tamra got just last week.

When your dad was done with him, you said goodbye to your family and went outside next to Josh, whoopened the driver’s door of his car for you.

“So where are we going?” You asked, looking at him while he was driving.

He looked good. Like he always did. And you were waiting impatiently for those butterflies in your stomach to come at the sight of him. Like it would happen with Luke.

But they never did.

We still have time, you internally said.

“I was thinking... does the movies sound right to you?” He asked.

“Sounds great.” You smiled.

“Great, great.” He smiled back.

You never found it hard to make conversation with him, and this time wasn’t the exception.

Once in the cinema, you two lined up to buy tickets for the movie and you still didn’t decide which one you would watch, but you made the decision for the two of you once you saw how excited Josh looked at a big poster of a zombie movie. He bought the tickets and you bought the popcorn and the drinks. It wasn’t easy but you ended up convincing him to do so.

During the movie, he tried to grab your hand, but every time you pretended not to notice. He didn’t try many times though, he was too invested on the movie to worry about that.

That spark you were so convinced was there and was just taking its time, wasn’t making its appearance. What was wrong with you? You wanted this. You accepted his invitation because you didn’t want to miss this “open door.”

But you didn’t want to be with Josh. As hard as it was for you to realize it, you didn’t like him.

You were still after your neighbor next door, who couldn’t care less about you.

I just need time. This was too soon.

When the movie was over, you went to a diner close the place just like you agreed before.

Still, no spark. Or butterflies. Or flushed cheeks.

Just nothing.

Until you were on your way home, and you saw some kids in front of a club, with some instruments and a man practically yelling at them.

“Josh- wait. Josh! We need to stop. Stop!”

Josh did so, a couple of stores away.

“What, what?! You okay?” He asked looking at you with a frown.

“Yes, yes it’s- There. It’s Luke’s band.”

You two looked behind you, and you could see them. Not clearly, but you were sure those were them.

And Josh seemed to think so too.

“No way...” He said, his eyes wide open. And then, rapidly pointed. “Luke, it’s Luke!”

“Where?!” You desperately looked but for you, the image was blurry.

“There!”

Since you still couldn’t see him, you got out of the car to get a better view.

It was definitely them.

Reggie and, who you assume was Alex, were talking with the man you saw befoe and it did not seem like a nice conversation. Reggie was hiding behind Alex and he seemed to be the one trying to control the situation.

And you only could see his back, but it was definitely Luke the one saving the instruments in the back of their truck, next to Bobby.

“It’s them.” You confirmed, but you couldn’t move. You couldn’t bring yourself up to do anything in that moment.

“What should we do?”

And then you realized. Reggie and Bobby knew you. They knew who you were. If they saw you, they would take Luke away again.

You couldn’t allow that to happen.

“Come on.” You motioned Josh to get in the car again.

“Should we call the police? Or the Pattersons? Maybe-.”

“No, no. None of that. We’re gonna follow them.”

“What?!”

“We need to know where they’re hiding Luke.”

“How are you so sure where they’re going?”

“I am not. But we have nothing to lose.”

You waited until the guys saved one last piece of a drum set, got in the car and started driving away, to follow them.

“Be subtle. And careful.” You said.

Your heart was racing. Sadly (or not), the reason wasn’t Josh.

You tried to follow them not exactly behind, but trying to stay at least a car away from them all the time.

Five minutes later, they stopped at a fast food place, in where they got in, but you decided to stay in the car.

Josh parked the car across the street.

“Max did say everyday with you is a new adventure.” He said. “But I didn’t know he meant literally.”

You removed your sight from the restaurant and looked at him.

You smiled slightly. “Sorry for dragging you with me.”

“Oh, no worries.” He waved it off. “Max warned me.”

“He warned you?” You raised an eyebrow. You didn’t know if you should be offended.

He then noticed the way he said it and you saw the panic on his face. “I didn’t mean it like that! I promise it sounded better in my head.”

You laughed. “It’s okay. I get it.”

“Yeah, um... what should we do now though? With Luke I mean.”

“I was thinking, um...” You searched through your purse. You had enough money. “Maybe we could... follow them? If it’s okay with you. I can give you money for gas, and all. It is my fault you’re here with me now, after all.”

“Forget that.” He shook his head. “This is big. We could maybe get Luke back to his family. You don’t have to give me anything. It’s all for the Pattersons.”

You smiled and nodded. But mentally decided that you would hide the money in the pocket of his jacket later.

“And also... Max told me about what you two have been doing the past week. So I know this is important to you, too. And if there’s anything I can do to help, then I’ll do it.”

You rested your hand on his for a moment. “Thank you. Really. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

The two of you killed time by playing with some Uno cards Josh had saved in his car, and an hour or so later, Josh saw the guys getting out of the restaurant.

“They’re leaving.” He warned you, and started the car as they drove away.

Again, you followed them cautiously for about twenty minutes. They stopped twice at two different houses (where Reggie and Alex, respectively, stayed) before finally getting into another neighborhood where the two guys left parked in front of a beautiful house. Bobby’s house, you assumed.

“So that’s where he stayed the whole time.” You whispered to yourself.

You two kept driving up until two or three houses away and parked in front of a house that seemed empty.

“I can’t believe it.” You said, giggling excited. But you erased your big smile once you looked around you. You had no clue where you were. You got out of the car with Josh.

“Do you... um... happen to know where we are?”

“Honestly? No.”

You started biting your thumbnail. You checked the time. It was nine thirty. You were supposed to be back home at ten.

“Shoot.” You said. “Okay, we know where they are. Do you have a pen or something?”

“Sure.”

He took a pen from some place in his car and gave it to you. Josh walked beside you as you headed from corner to corner and then stopped in front of Bobby’s house. You wrote the street names down in your wrist, not forgetting about the house number.

“Cool, cool.” You nodded. “We have something. And he seems to be safe. I guess I just can come back tomorrow.”

“I was hoping you say that.” He chuckled relieved. “I really didn’t think it would be a good idea to knock now.”

“Yeah...”

You stood in front of the house in silence for a minute.

“Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“We found Luke.”

You two turned your heads to see at each other and then cheered and jumped.

“Shh! Wait! They could hear us.”

“Right, right.” He stopped himself too.

And then, you two silently celebrated.

When you finished, you noticed you were grabbing each other’s hands.

You saw him blushing, and before this could go any further, you smiled at him gently and let go of his hands.

“Let’s go.” You said.

“How do you think they’re managing though? You know, Luke hiding there. And I don’t know his friends’ parents... or his friend himself, but I don’t think they would allow to hide someone in their house who’s been practically reported as missing. There are literally posters of him everywhere.” Josh said once you were (this time for real) on your way home.

“I know. At least I hope they don’t know. It would be cruel of them. Mrs. Patterson is better now, but she hasn’t been having a great time.”

He nodded.

“It’s really sweet of you. What you’ve been doing for her. And for Mr. Patterson.”

“I just... I think I just can’t see her like that. And she regrets everything she did wrong with Luke. She just wants another chance to fix things.”

“You have a great heart.” He said, and you smiled for the hundredth time that night.

“Thank you.” You tilted your head. “You too. You came all the way here with me to save Luke. I think that’s something that qualifies you as a good person, too.”

“Thank you.” He doffed an imaginary hat at you, and you chuckled.

He parked in front of your house.

“This night was... full of unexpected events.” Josh said and you agreed with a smile.

“I’m sorry, again. For dragging you with me.”

“And, again. It’s okay. It was fun. Way more fun than what I had in mind for this date.”

You held up a gasp. He said it. It was a date.

You decided to ignored it. “I had fun too.”

“I just... I had something in mind. And I realized that maybe we... don’t share the same feelings? I sound so stupid, I’m sorry. I just...” He sighed. “I like you, Y/N. I really do. But I notice you don’t feel the same.”

“I am... truly sorry about that, Josh.” You looked down for a second. “I really tried though, you know? You’re a really good guy.”

You grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

“I’m just... still fighting with this old... thing I had for a boy. But please don’t get mad at me. I love hanging out with you. You just make me laugh a lot and...it’s just so fun to be with you. You’re a great friend and I really don’t want to lose you.”

He shook his head with a little smile. “You shouldn’t worry about that. You could never lose me.”

You smiled.

“Friends?” You asked and showed him your fist.

“Friends.” He bumped it and you hugged him.

“Thank you for one of the greatest nights ever.” You whispered.

As soon as you stepped on your living room, your family assault you with a bunch of questions. You impatiently responded to all of them, to then explain that you and Josh were just friends. You just wanted to go to Tamra’s room and call Max, but your sister didn’t let you do so until you promised you were gonna give her details later.

Max also celebrated the new information you got when you called him and the both of you agreed on going the next day and...

Well, you didn’t know what to do exactly. But you would have that planned later.

You couldn’t believe it. You were so happy you couldn’t even remember why did you quit the investigation. You just needed a little break. It was too much for you and it wasn’t easy.

But you were back.

•

Taglist: @ifilwtmfc @sovereignparker @catbcyluke @marvelgirl300 @valeriasannchez

#luke patterson x reader #luke patterson #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms x reader

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nostalgiabones · 4 years

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Soon To Be // L.H

Here I am with another blurb! If you’re tired of seeing me on your dash – blame @calumrose ❤ The photo is very serious but it’s just a sweet little blurb with Luke and Delilah (featuring Uncle Michael!). Please let me know what you think here, or if you have any requests!

“This venue is stunning,”

You murmur the words in Luke’s ear as he leans in closer to you, his lips brushing your cheek. Michael’s wedding is in full swing; the evening ceremony approaching the late night when most guests would begin to leave. With a hotel room booked, along with the other guys, down the road, you had no plans to leave anytime soon. That was if the sweet ten-month-old in your lap lasted that long too.

“It really is,” Luke replies, his fingers entwined with yours under the table. “We should look at something similar for us next year.”

You smile at his words; Michael’s wedding getting the two of you even more excited to plan your own. There was something about Luke seeing you at a wedding that just made him even more excited for you to be his bride; to officially declare his love for you in front of his family and friends. The beautiful engagement ring on your finger had been there for almost two years. You were in no huge rush to get married, yet even when you had begun to plan your special day, your plans were put on hold by an unexpected bundle of joy.

The room is illuminated with silver and pink; a beautiful theme, the hall decorated with class and elegance. There are huge bouquets of stunning flowers on every table, each one decorated with simple yet intricate name cards, each with their own personal touch. You can tell no detail has been spared as you admire the space, every part feeling as special as the whole day had.

Delilah whines in your lap, trying to lean back against you to cuddle against your warmth. It had been a very long day for her, and she had coped with it well – apart from missing her mid-afternoon nap. Luke had tried to get her to sleep during the dinner, hoping it would mean her lasting through the evening, but he’d had no such luck. There had been too much going on – too many people, too much noise, too much attention from her uncles. The environment was too overwhelming and exciting for her to sleep in, leading to her getting sleepier the more the night went on.

“I know,” You soothe, rubbing your hand down her back, over the frills of the adorable dress you had got her to wear for the special day. You re-adjust her in your lap so she’s facing you, letting her rest against your chest the best she can with your own outfit in the way. “Today has been a lot, hasn’t it?”

Luke pouts at the sight of his sweet daughter, reaching over to brush her curls out of her face as she yawns. She looks up at him, her eyes heavy with tiredness, making his heart melt. “C’mere, baby. Do you want to dance with daddy?”

You chuckle at his words, knowing she’s not in the mood to be moved around a lot. He holds his hands out for her and you pass her over, watching him cuddle her into his body, her face pressed against his crisp white shirt. She nuzzles her cheek against him, trying to get comfy, but whining at the strange environment and loud noises. It’s only a moment before the first hiccup of a cry slips from her lips, and Luke knows she’s overwhelmed.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He coos sympathetically, his hand lifting to smooth up and down her back. You reach into the bag of Delilah’s necessities that you brought along to keep her occupied and content, fishing out a pacifier and handing it to Luke. He slips it between her lips, waiting until she takes to it before bouncing her in his arms. “I’m gonna walk around and rock her for a bit.”

You nod and accept the sweet kiss he brushes to your lips, deciding to let him have some time with her before turning to speak to Ashton’s partner.

Luke keeps swaying her in his arms, heading to the middle of the dance floor where he can see Michael and Calum. He doesn’t know how kindly Delilah will take to attention from them when she’s so overtired but decides to try anyway. Michael spots them coming over and gestures to the DJ to turn the music down a little, now that a lot of people have started leaving anyway.

“Well, look who it is,” Michael announces, his heart melting at the sight of Luke rocking Delilah in his arms. “It’s only my favourite little wedding guest. Hi, honey.”

Delilah looks up at her uncle, lifting a tiny fist to rub at her eyes before cuddling back into Luke. He shifts her in his arms, so her face is level with his neck, his lips brushing over her head.

“Oh, someone is sleepy, huh?” Calum asks her, reaching out to brush his knuckle lightly over her cheek. Her eyes flutter at his touch, leaning into the comforting gesture. “God Luke, she’s so sweet.”

“I know,” Luke pouts, resting his cheek on her forehead. As the youngest band baby, both her parents and all her uncles dote on her; all willing to drop literally anything to hold or comfort her. “And very overtired. I’m surprised she hasn’t crashed yet.”

“Too tired for a cuddle with the groom?” Michael asks, not knowing whether it would be a good idea, but not being able to resist. “Will she cry if I hold her?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Luke replies, knowing Delilah is usually content with any of her uncles holding her. “Here you go.”

He passes Delilah to Michael, waiting for a moment to see if she instantly decided she wanted to be back with him. She doesn’t resist though, just whines for a moment at the change of arms, before settling with Michael. He sways with her to the music, keeping his hand on her back to secure her in his arms.

“There we go, sweet girl. Have you had so much fun today, huh? How has your first wedding been?” Michael murmurs to her, his pointer finger running up and down her cheek. Luke stays close, watching the two of them interact.

“She’s so ready for bed,” Luke chuckles, watching his heavy-lidded daughter gaze at him with a sleepy expression on her face. He knows they don’t have much longer before she loses her resolve and will no longer be happy to be passed around them.

“It’s been a big day for you, hasn’t it? Are you all partied out?” Michael murmurs, his other hand rubbing her back. She wriggles in his arms, and all Luke wants is to take her and get her to sleep – he knows how grumpy she’s about to get with how tired she is. “Okay bubs, I got my cuddle. You can have your dad back now.”

With a kiss to her forehead, he hands her back to Luke, deciding to go and find his bride. Luke gets her comfy again, letting her snuggle underneath the material of his black suit jacket. She yawns again and whines against him, her hand clinging to the neck of his shirt, so he wouldn’t put her down again. He heads back over to your table.

“Do we have her blanket? I think she’s cold.” He asks you, continuing to sway on the spot to keep her settled for the moment. You hand it to him, the soft cream material a much welcome comfort to Delilah as Luke wraps it around her small frame. “I got you, sweetheart. I know it’s been a long day for you.”

He sways around the edge of the dance floor with her, his hips moving in time with the music. He keeps his focus on her, eyes below the blanket, watching as her own eyes droop. She finally begins to fall asleep, allowing herself to rest, soothed and comforted as she’s surrounded by Luke.

He doesn’t know that you’re watching; that your gaze is soft, and your eyes are lined with unshed tears at the sight. You know how content Delilah is with him, watching how he rocks her, how he’s looking at her as she falls asleep in his arms. It makes you appreciate just how lucky you are to share a life with him, to have Delilah who is half you, half him – to witness him be such an incredible dad. The man you get to call the love of your life, and soon to be, husband.

***

Masterlist

Taglist: @irwinkitten @wildflowergrae @luckyduckydoo @letstaketheups-and-downs @jazzyangel242 @cashworthy @babylon-corgis @norawashere @monsteramongmikey @late-nightdevil @maluminspace @fluffsshawn @xhaileyreneex @flowerthug @calpops @youngblood199456 @aliencal @wokeupinjapanisabop @banditocth @cashtonasfuck @5-secondsofcolor @g-l-pierce @monsteramongmgc @calmlftv @mantlereid @treatallwithkindness @another-lonely-heart-blog @calumrose @inlovehoodx @mermaidcashton @everydayimfangirling345-blog @sexgodashton @b-easybreezy @ilumxna @malumsmermaid @opheliaaurora23 @talkfastromance4 @zhangyixingxing1 @everyscarisahealingplace @mateisit-balsamic @saphseoul @suchalonelysunflower @findingliam-o @castaway-cashton @megz1985 @notinthesameguey @calumscalm @karajaynetoday @metalandboybands @littledrummeraussie @vxlentinecal @itjustkindahappenedreally @queenalienscherrypie @xxxstormyninixxx @chicken-ona-stick @hoodhoran @harrys-shrooms

#this made me so emo #luke hemmings au #luke hemmings fics #5sos blurbs #5sos au #dad 5sos blurbs #dad!luke blurbs #dad!5sos blurb #dad!5sos #dadsos blurbs #dad!sos blurb #dad!sos blurbs #luke hemmings blurbs #mywriting #myblurbs #lukeanddelilah

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thoughtsaboutshows · 3 years

Note

30 for the prompts

30. “Thanks for marrying me.

This one was requested twice, also by @nevergoinouttastyle

This is a continuation of my prompt from Take My Jacket where Sabrina and Nick meet as members of Ambrose and Prudence’s bridal party

Today was the day. She’d thought about this day a lot during her life. What she would wear, eat, dance to. Most importantly, who’d be waiting for her down at the end of the aisle while she walked down it. An aunt on each arm. In high school and shortly after she was dead-set on Harvey, with his floppy hair and goofy smile, to be the one waiting for her. In college she’d fallen for the exotic artist named Caliban and for a short time she thought she might marry him. That was until he’d decided that sleeping with the women who modeled for his clay sculptures was “a part of the process.”

Nick had come out of nowhere, breaking down her walls despite the awful first impression he’d made. Every day since, he’d complimented her headband and the way he reverently took it off when she told him to take her upstairs made it seem as if he adored it. He had been mysterious and charming and he’d made her smile in a way she hadn’t in a while. Maybe Ambrose was right and she needed to have a bit more fun. So she’d taken a chance in going up to his room, abandoning her cousin’s wedding early. She tried to steady her heart that beat with anticipation as Nick slipped his hand under the jacket that was draped over her shoulders and onto her lower back, leading her towards the elevator and away from the party so he could kiss her again.

She awoke the next morning wrapped in the arms of the man her cousin had partnered her with, feeling more sated and satisfied than she ever had. She hardly knew this Nicholas Scratch but already he had more than made up for his failed first impression, from the way he’d made her laugh or sang along to the songs when they danced to how his lips landed with perfect impassioned precision to her every inch of her body, knowing exactly how to make her shiver.

She had expected them to brush each other off, chalk it up to a single great night, emboldened by the romance of a wedding. But instead after kissing her soundly, wrapped up on his sheets, he’d ordered room service and a bottle of champagne. She slipped on his button down shirt to eat only for him to unbutton it and peel it off of her shortly after. Needless to say, they were late to the post wedding party her Aunties had thrown for the remaining guests. He’d stuck by her and didn’t let the weekend end without getting her number and a promise to see her again.

As her cousin had said, stranger things had happened than Sabrina and Nick falling in love with each other. But as Sabrina got ready before her wedding day to the man who had offered her his jacket two years ago, she came to the conclusion it wasn’t so strange at all.

Sabrina had no doubt as she geared up to walk down the aisle that Nick was the right one to be at the end of it. She had known it from the moment he called her a mere day after the wedding festivities had ended and when he’d invited her to travel with him the following Summer. Her knowledge was solidified even more when he insisted on having the wedding at the same place as Ambrose and Prudence’s, the very place he’d fallen for her.

So with all the people they loved by their sides, Ambrose in his party and Prudence in hers, they were married. Ambrose and Prudence insisted they needed to be partnered up.

“Because we look so good together, cousin.” Ambrose had insisted.

But Sabrina had figured it had more to do with how in love with his wife Ambrose was, and how he wanted to rub Prudence’s full and pregnant belly as they walked down the aisle.

Tears welled in Nick’s eyes as she made her way to him and he didn’t even try to keep them at bay, shattering every notion of toxic masculinity that had been thrown her way. He did that often, washing away the bad boy image that had been thrust upon him by whispers of people who didn’t even know him.

Nick held onto her hand throughout the entire ceremony, refusing to let go even when he needed to use both hands. He fumbled getting the ring from his best man because of it which made Sabrina snort and then smack him for pulling such an unattractive sound from her on her wedding day.

He thought about kissing her softly and sweetly, being that they were in front of her family and all. But once he heard the officiant declare them Mr. and Mrs. Scratch he realized that would be an impossibility. It had been the world’s biggest surprise when she’d announced she was taking his last name and she seemed just as eager as he was when she grabbed his bowtie and pulled him down for their first kiss as husband and wife. And not a sweet one at all.

Hilda had worked with the chef at the venue to ensure the food was top notch and from the way Zelda ran around like a drill sergeant Sabrina was sure the night would go off without a hitch. Their first dance was Elvis’ Can’t Help Falling in Love and he didn’t hold back from kissing her then too, holding her closer than ever.

They’d chosen to get married in the Fall because not only was it Sabrina’s favorite season but it’s when they met. And Nick would take any opportunity to utilize the chilled air to wrap his arms around her. As the night went on, it seemed he’d get his wish.

He’d been chatting with some friend when Sabrina waltzed over to him. They’d hardly been apart the whole night so when Sabrina leaned in to whisper in his ear. He quickly excused himself and made his way over to the balcony.

He found her leaning against the railing, her head-banded veil blowing in the wind. She was staring at him, her rosy cheeks and red lips inviting him to step closer. She was a picture perfect memory of when he’d found her out on that very same balcony two years ago. Except this time was better, this time she was his wife.

“Hey, Spellman.” He said when he reached her, automatically reaching for her waist and pulling her to him.

“Hey, Scratch.” She bit her lip and reached up, adjusting his collar. He’d undone his bowtie shortly after the reception began, and Sabrina always appreciated when he did so. “But you know my last name has been the same as yours for a few hours now.”

“You may be Mrs. Scratch, but you’ll always be Spellman to me.” He flirted with her as his fingers drifted across her exposed collarbone. Two years together or not, he could still make her tremble with just a touch. She couldn’t take it anymore then and pulled him down by his hair to kiss her. If their first kiss as husband and wife had been passionate, this one reached maxed out levels.

When they pulled apart she shivered and he didn’t hesitate to rip off his jacket and drape it around her shoulders. His smirk matched hers as they both were taken back to that first night.

“Thanks for your jacket.” She said with a wink.

“Thanks for marrying me.” He winked back and reached over to wipe at her smeared lipstick. “To be honest, I was surprised you ever gave me a chance.”

“Stranger things have happened, Scratch.” She shrugged and pulled him down to kiss her again. Her makeup was already messed up, they might as well mess it up more.

They stayed out there a bit more, enjoying a reprieve from the attention and soaking up being together just the two of them. When another gust of wind blew by and not even his jacket and his lips on hers couldn’t keep her warm enough he chuckled and made a suggestion.

“Why don’t we go inside, babe.” He pecked her lips one more time as she pouted.

“Why don’t you take me upstairs.” She suggested again, waving her eyebrows and daring him to do it. He nearly opened his mouth to agree, no one would miss them anyways, when Prudence poked her head out the door.

“Don’t you two even think about disappearing.” Even in her pregnant state she was scary, maybe even more so. “Sabrina your cousin is about to do something very embarrassing and I swear the agarvation will send me into early labor.”

“We’ll be right in, Prudence.” Sabrina said, laughing at her intensity. When Prudence didn’t budge from her place in the doorway Sabrina rolled her eyes and grabbed Nick’s hand. “Or we’re coming now.”

She stopped in the doorway with Nick and kissed him once on the cheek, and decided not to tell him that he had lipstick on his face. She leaned in to whisper in his ear again, first in thanks that he married her too and second all the things she was going to do when this night finally ended and they were alone. Needless to say Nick had to swallow heavy and breathe deep to keep himself from whisking her away right then. Instead they chased down Ambrose who had decided he was going to do his own version of the dollar dance, taking off a piece of clothing for every dollar he raised for the new couple.

Sabrina laughed and tagged teamed it with Nick to pour coffee down his throat. She wasn’t all that surprised that her cousin had pulled a crazy stunt at her wedding to Nicholas Scratch.

Because really, stranger things have happened.

#nabrina #otp prompts #nick x sabrina #chilling adventures of sabrina #wedding fic

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rangergranger11 · 3 years

Text

Headcanons (I promise these won’t make you cry)

Ok so on @eatyourdamnpears post there were a lot of headcanons, and I decided to put them all in one post, but just bear in mind, half of this is credit to @thedarkestcrew cuz she did some amazing HCs, and I’m by no means stealing hers, just putting it all in a better place.

- Liam sends packages to Ruby because he can't make a fool out of himself in person so it's the next best thing.

-These packages include things like hand writing notes, stuffed animals, any ruby jewellery he finds, pictures of them on dates that he printed (he has matching pictures and keeps them under his bed)( Cole and Harry find them but it's too cute to tease him), and finally, videos to make her laugh

- He also keeps a menu from Ruby Tuesday, and LOADS of old CDs and rock band t shirts

-Cole and him borrow each others jackets all the time and it's not a problem because they live in the same house and they can just go over to the room next door,

-But when ruby starts stealing Liam’s jackets that he stole from Cole? well now the Stewart house is missing 10 leather jackets and you can't just get them form the girl who lives a state away. So she has to send them back in the mail,

-keeps a few that smell like Liam because she can

-sometimes people are confused which Stewart brother Ruby is really dating. And the fact that they look like twins it adds to the confusion, and the Ruby and Cole literally love to watch people get so mixed up

-oh absolutely, they’ll walk in on ruby and Liam making out, but two second later see Cole smoothing Down her hair and calling her Gem, AND seeing her he friendly with Chubs and cleaning his glasses because her skirt has better fabric for it, AND seeing her joke around with Nico

-it becomes a bet to see who she's with

-Liam will give Ruby his jacket, but than Cole comes and notices it's his jacket and makes a joke about them dating, she just gives him the jacket because she'd rather wear lee'. bystanders are distraught

- And then Clancy comes along and brags about how he kissed Ruby and then the people who bet are just like 'where. the. hell. did. clancy. frickin. gray. come. from???

-Ruby thinks most of the rumours are funny and will be really vague about who her boyfriend is. most of the time just seeing Ruby and Liam together will be enough for people to figure it out by how the are relaxed around each other and look lovingly at the other.

-But when she hears the Clancy rumour she shuts that down faster than Charles scarfs Down a pancake

- Also, Liam's mum and Harry have an ongoing bet about who Ruby is actually dating because it's just so confusing at this point. Grace is like 'are you blind???' and Harry Is like 'there's something with Cole, I swear!!' But eventually realised its Liam and gives in

- Grace thinks she’s dating Cole, because when she visited she hugged Cole first and than a minute later hugged Liam. Yes, she went out to the park with Liam but grace doesn't know that, also she spend 20 minutes in Coles room chatting. She thinks Liam just has a crush on her or something

- Ruby's parents can't tell them apart for anything and made a rule of " announce who you are before talking" after Liam kissed Ruby on the cheek and her mom thought that was the same person who told someone to go-F themselves ten minutes ago and nearly faints. It takes them a while the even figure out there are two blond southern men that flirt with their daughter

-Grace is always giving Liam encouraging mom advice like, 'there are always others' and 'you'll get there someday' and Liam is just like 'thanks, mom'

-Ruby's dad is just so tired of confusing Liam and Cole, he's like 'Stewart sr' and 'Stewart jr.' He tried to call them 'Ruby's boyfriend' and Ruby's friend, but Cole answered to both just for the fun of it

-Chubs does not think it's funny at all and spits out what he's drinking when he sees Cole look when her dad says ' Ruby's boyfriend'. almost strangles Ruby until he hears about it.

-Vida thinks it's really funny but event breaks and tells everyone it's a joke the day after. she doesn't know how many more times she can see Liam pouting

-After the Cole fiasco is over. his parents wait about a week and try to get Liam with Ruby. it's a bunch of prep talks, buying new clothes, telling him how to not mess up. when the big date comes her kisses her as a hello and they feel betrayed

-When ruby’s dad says the jr, sr thing he has Harry looking too and now he just needs to have ruby in the room with him, whoever’s face gets softer Is Liam, the one who stands up to tease her about something is Cole

-One day they talk about it and their 70 percent sure it’s Cole because they think he’s more her type while Liam would be good for her. Anyways they see her making out with Liam and are shocked and think she’s cheating on Cole.

-Harry had to sit Cole down and explain that Ruby isn’t faithful and Cole is absolutely loving it. He’s eating it all up, goes along with it, calls ruby in-front of him and ‘breaks up with her’, she also thinks it’s hilarious because for crying out loud it’s been a few month into the new program and why not see how long they can keep going. I swear they have a whole plot on how they met, what line made them fall in love the, whole 9 yards.

-Grams knows of course because she pulled her aside and threatened her to date Liam because he’s the poster ’ nice southern boy’. Liam does not enjoy his girl friend pretending to date his brother but she throws enough Liam flirting into the mix to make it even.

- when Cole ‘breaks up’ with her, they have a fully fledged fake argument, like ‘remember that time when we got ice cream and you told me you told me you loved me’ and ‘you never loved me!!’ And for Ruby this is easy, because let’s face it Ruby is a grade A liar (in a good way) and Cole should be a 5 star actor because he is so damn dramatic.

-Harry is totally buying this, and in the end they confess to their parents that Ruby + Cole was never a thing, and Liam is just looking at his mum like ‘SEE, I TOLD YOU I WASN’T A TOTAL LOSER’ and poor Grace just bakes a bunch of things just to make it up to him, and they all have a laugh about it.

-But it was getting to the point where Ruby’s parents asked Zu which one she was dating and she was like ‘I am not getting involves in this.’ and Cole is just giving her a discreet thumbs up for playing her part while she just rolls her eyes.

-Oh absolutely they get into it, everyone who knows their lying get popcorn and treat it like its a movie. Cole says something absolutely ridiculous like “ you can take my heart, and my dignity, but I’m taking back the popcorn I gave you that one time” and Ruby has to use all of her enegery to not burst out laughing.

-Ruby can also fake cry quickly so she’s sobbing, and by the end schools her face within a second and wipes away to tears Cooly. Ruby’s mom can’t trust her after that. also still kinda doesnt belive she’s dating anyone because of the Cole thing. Liam comes over 5 times before she’s convinced that this isn’t another prank. Ruby tells her she’s going on a date Saturday and says “ ha ya alright I’m not falling for that again” and than on saturday spends 6 minutes looking around the house for her before calling her and realizing that she wasent kidding

-Vida definitely films the whole thing like it's some telenovela, while Chubs is rolling her eyes at her but Zu secretly loves the drama and her stupid family. And Rubiam parents mention this at their wedding as well like, Ruby's dad would be doing a speech 'today we are gathered for the union of my daughter and Cole- Liam, i meant Liam. Its definitely Liam. Right Ruby??'

-Cole shows up to Haven for a visit about to yell at Liam and Ruby for not inviting him sooner after Harry and Grace let the location slip

( I know cole being dead is one of the things that sparked haven being made on liams part, but let's just say the spark for haven was Ruby getting harassed and Liam not being able to see her like that and asking her to run away with him to the middle of no where. Good? Great)

-Cole is about to walk through the door before a kid puts a frog in his hand and another kid asks if he can beat the level on his game boy.

-he thinks it's really adorable and the kids start calling him Liam for a Few minutes so why not,

-anyways he sneezes in a lone hallway and lights something small on fire before quickly putting it out.

-Owen is coming out of his room but sees the panic in Coles eyes and says ' hey, I'm not one to judge' and walks back into his room.

-When Ruby gets home she stops and stares at him for a full minute like " that's..... not Liam????"

-he calls her gem and she can't decide between jumping a hug onto him or punching him.

-Liam gets home and the kids all do a double take like ' you changed shirts??? can got a hair cut????' before doing a double take between the two

-Loads of the kids gather around and start making daisy chains for Cole’s hair, and he freaking loves it.

-He’s surprisingly good with kids as they all hover around him asking questions, holding his hand and showing him random things and it warms Ruby’s heart so much

Again, credit to @thedarkestcrew for thinking all of this, and this post has been fun

#the darkest minds #tdm #in the afterlight #rubiam #ruby daly #cole stewart #liam stewart #vida conner #charles meriwether

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

Second Chance

Part 1

Warning: Angst, heartbreak, unrequited love, young mistakes, very light suggestion of past smut, Jensen is a bit of an asshole. Language, talk about depression, I think that’s it.

Summary: No one has life figured out at 18, but can one mistake made and twenty-one years of hurt and regret be fixed with an “I’m sorry?”

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 2474

A/N: This is one of my older stories from WattPad that I wanted to bring over here and clean up a little. This is completely unbeta’d, and all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is gold! Part two will be posted tomorrow! Hope you all enjoy this one!

Want More? Check out my masterlist!

***MASTERLIST***

21 years ago

"So this is it? You've made your choice, you’re leaving me, all because I won’t follow you to Hollywood to chase some stupid acting career?"

Tears were falling freely down your face now, you were unable to hold them back, your heart felt like it was about to break into a thousand pieces and fall to the ground at your feet.

You loved him, you really did. In fact, you loved him for as long as you could remember. There never was a moment when you couldn't remember not being in love with him.

Even when you were just small children, attending the same Sunday school class at your parent’s church. Even when you were in grade school, and he was part of the group of bullies that used to pull your ponytail then run away.

You loved him.

So much so, that in back of his truck, parked out on the landing prom night you gave him everything, and he swore he’d always love you, swore he'd always be with you, even though you knew that was a lie you loved him anyway.

Even when he said he hadn't really slept with that girl from the drama club, and you knew deep, deep down that he had, and that he didn't love you, you still loved him anyway.

Even now, as your heart lay on the ground in a thousand tiny pieces, never to be put back together again as his olive-green eyes started into yours with no emotion there at all, you loved him.

There was no way you'd walk out of here tonight the same person.

He had destroyed you, broken you.

"If you can't support me then I don't need your kind of negativity. Either you come with me to California, or we're done, that's my final offer." Jensen's voice was calm, his demeanor was calm, which seemed strange to you when you felt like your whole world was crashing down around you.

He knew you weren't going to go with him. He knew you would choose to stay even before he had asked you to go. He did it knowing this was a way to get rid of you, the girl he was dating because of no other reason than he felt sorry for you, and you were an easy lay on prom night.

You say nothing, just grab your purse off the foot of his bed, and your jacket off the back of the computer chair that sat in the corner of the room, pulling it over your shoulders as the gut wrenching pain worked itself deeper into your very soul.

You couldn't look at him. If you did you'd breakdown, and you'd never make it out of here. You'd die right here of a broken heart.

You walked out of Jensen Ackles’s life that night, out of his room, through the warm house, out into the pouring rain, and he never tried to stop you.

Even though you left your heart on the floor of his bedroom, you never looked back, it just hurt too much.

Present Day:

"Come on Y/N, this will be fun! You never go out just to have any fun! When was the last time you've even been on a date with anyone? Jessie and I will be there the whole time! Come on!! Come grab some drinks, meet a guy, loosen the fuck up!"

Sherry meant well, she really did, and knowing that is the only thing that kept you from rolling your eyes at her, and walking away from this conversation.

You had been alone for so long that you had adapted to it, and didn't really feel the need to go sit in some roadhouse bar, and watch your friends drink and whore themselves to whatever barroom hero they could find that night. It was just more than you could stomach.

As far as a date or having even been with a guy, it wasn't that you hadn't tried, because you had. Your heart just wasn't in it, so it was just a waste of time and energy, that would enevidably mount to nothing.

Even though you didn't want to admit it to even yourself, you had never had feelings for another guy ever again. Even though Jensen had moved off to California, and was successful, you were never able to do the same.

Hell, he was overly successful. He had been on multiple shows, and in a few movies, his current show now running on the fifteenth, and final season.

He had a wife, if you could call her that. Everyone in Dallas that knew Jensen personally knew that she was spreading her legs for that little creep that always followed him around, claiming to be Jensen's best friend, Steve.

He had three beautiful children, he had it all...

You had a memory and a broken heart that you never were able to piece back together.

Thanks to him you never were able to fall in love with another man, because no one ever measured up to the way he made you feel.

Never.

He was it for you, but apparently he didn't feel the same way about you, because if he did, he would have never let you walk away.

"Fuck it, I'll come, but only because you guys aren't going to leave me the hell alone if I don't," you say, standing up from your cubical with your coffee cup in hand, and making your way toward the breakroom with Sherry hot on your tail, skipping like she'd won a battle, or scored a touchdown, or something.

Eight hours later you found yourself sitting with Sherry in a booth at the back of the bar, watching all the other patrons drink, dance, and basically fuck each other in booths and on dance floor.

Then there was you.

Sitting in the corner with your friend, nursing the same beer that you'd been nursing for over an hour, and not looking at anyone in particular, just waiting on these idiots you came with to get enough so that you can go home, and crawl into your bed with your Netflix.

"Come on Y/N, get up and come dance with me! Get out of this seat and move around! You’re never going to meet someone acting like a granny!"

You just sit there and stare at her in a way that screamed you could really gut her like a fish if you had a knife.

"I’m not interested in finding anyone Sherry, I'm fine the way I am, alone, the way I always have been," picking your beer up you take another swig, finishing off the rest of the bottle. "I'm also tired of sitting here bringing your party down, you go have fun, I'll see you guys at work Monday."

You stand up from the booth, and start to walk off when you run chest long with the hard body of a tall man. It would have knocked you on your ass if he hadn't reached out and caught you.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry! I'm a clutz!" he yelled over the music.

You didn't have to look up, you would have known that voice if you were clinically dead. It was the same voice that has spent the last twenty-one years haunting your dreams as well as your nightmare's.

You looked up to see Jensen's olive green orbs staring back into your (y/e/c) ones, his mouth gaping open slightly as the realization hit him of just who you were as well.

"Y/n? Is that really you?" he said, letting go of you and taking a step back.

You didn't know what to do, you just stood there a moment trying to make your voice work, trying not to slap him, trying not to cry, trying not to scream.

Sherry was at your side in an instant, she was your best friend, and knew everything about you, so she knew all about Jensen and your past history together. She also knew you were still in love with him.

"She doesn't need your shit Jensen, why don't you go find something pretty to entertain yourself with for tonight, and leave Y/N alone," she spat at him like an angry cat.

You looked at her dumbfounded, still trying to make your voice work.

"Excuse me?" he said, taking a step back and looking at Sherry like if she was a man, she would have found herself on her ass in a hurry.

"You heard me dick, she doesn't want to talk to you!" Sherry said, taking a step forward toward Jensen like an angry mother hen who just about had enough of his shit.

"Sherry, it's okay, really," you say, grabbing her shoulder to keep her from punching Jensen in the face. "We just bumped into each other, he didn't do anything wrong, I ran into him. Why don't you go find Jessie, and I'll meet up with you guys in a minute?"

She looks at you like she had so many things she wanted to say, but decided against it all at once.

"Fine, but if this asshole gets out of line, kick him in the balls, and call me to finish him off," she says, walking by Jensen and purposely bumping into him as she went.

"What's her fucking problem?" Jensen asks you loud enough for her to hear him, seeing as she shot him the finger behind her back as she went away.

You had to bite your lip to hide the snicker that threatened to escape your lips at her.

"Sorry, I'm pretty sure she was a pit bull in her past life," you say, watching her take a seat next to Jessie, making sure she wasn't going to run up behind him, and try to hit him in the head with a bottle or something.

"It's been a long time since I've seen you. How have you been?"

He took a step closer to you, and you backed up. He stopped, noticing how you were avoiding eye contact with him.

"I'm fine," was all you could say, looking at the floor, afraid somehow your heart was going to find a way to give you away.

"You wanna grab a drink with me, or maybe lunch tomorrow? I'm going to be in town for a couple of days, and I'd like to see you again?"

Everything in you wanted to say yes, but at that moment it just wouldn't come. Everything in you wanted to throw yourself into his arms, tell him you’re sorry for all those years ago, everything in you wanted to ask him for another chance, but when he reached up to adjust the ball cap on his head with his left hand the glimmer of the wedding band on his left hand stopped you dead in your tracks.

You didn't think you could hate one piece of jewelry more than you hated that one little silver ring.

"No Jensen, I don't think that's a good idea," you say, looking him in the eye for the second time this evening. He was watching you, searching.

"Y/n, I'm sorry. I should have never made you choose. It was wrong. I was young and didn't know I wanted out of life. I was stupid, and I've regretted since the night you left," he said, trying to take another step toward you.

For the first time in a long time you were angry, after all the grieving, after all the crying after everything you'd done all these years. The pinning, the crying yourself to sleep the night he married her, the week-long vacation you had to take when they had their first child together because the depression hit you so hard you couldn’t keep anything down, or get out of bed, the suffering. He'd ruined you all those years ago, and "I'm sorry" wasn't going to fix it.

You didn't say anything, you couldn't. You try to step around him and walk away when he grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

God how you'd wished to feel that touch over the years. You fought everything in you not to fall into his arms right then.

"Jensen, you made your choice, I made mine. You have a family now, a wife, and children. For twenty-one years what you did has hurt me, for twenty-one years I've cried over you, and it's obvious that you haven't given me even a second thought. So tell me exactly why the hell I’d come to have lunch or drink with you now? Leave me alone, you’ve done enough damage to me over the years."

Ripping your arm away from his grip you stalk toward the door.

You walked away and left him standing there looking at his hands, an unreadable expression on his face. He'd lost you again tonight, and he knew it, some things he couldn't ever fix no matter how much he wanted to, and he'd fucked this up so badly he didn't know if it could be repaired.

"What did you tell him?" Sherry asked you as soon as you all climbed into your Uber.

Jessie did not say a word. She'd been silently texting since you all walked out of the bar.

You shook your head, brushing away the tears that were streaming down your face with your hand harshly.

"He tried to apologize, and I told him how much he'd hurt me. He had wanted to go have lunch or buy me a drink tonight, but that damn ring... I'm not going to be someone's homewrecker."

She hugged you as you tried to compose yourself. You didn't know how to move on from this. It was like a giant set back. One you didn't know how you'd never recover from. For the second time, you walked away, for the second time, you'd let him go. You didn't know If you'd have the strength to do it a third time if you ran into him again because to be honest, you felt like your heart, or what was left of it, was being torn apart in front of you all over again.

All those years you had never gotten it all back together, but now it was completely and utterly broken all over again.

Jessie's POV:

Jessie sat silently watching you and Sherry, Sherry trying to peace you back together, while you try not to fall apart completely.

She pulled out her phone again, a text message from Jensen was waiting for her.

J: She hates me. She wouldn't even talk to me.

Jessie: She's pretty torn up right now J. She still loves you. I told you this wasn't going to be easy. Let's give her a little time, then we'll give it another try.

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sunflowersteves · 4 years

Text

cheaters never prosper || ch. 1

summary || Steve told you that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you but he sure has a funny way of showing it.

author’s note || Based on the song “Sorry” by Beyonce. For the storyline to make sense. Also, I’m sorry to Sharon fans. She’s the only character I can recall with blonde hair. Hope you all enjoy it!

warning || angst, cheating, mentions of sex, asshole Steve, swearing

m.list // ch. 2

Looking at my watch he should’ve been home

Today I regret the night I put that ring on

He always got them fucking excuses

I pray the Lord you reveal what his truth is

You knew that Tony didn’t keep him in the compound offices until 4 AM. Bucky had even told you that Steve was going to head out around 5:00 pm when everyone else does because all he had was paperwork from the last mission. You twirled the wedding ring that clenched around your finger. It almost felt suffocating. You looked back at all those moments he canceled dates or forgot important ones.

Stevie: Sorry, babe. I got caught up with work. I can take you out next Tuesday?

Stevie: Happy Birthday! Sorry, it’s so late. Work kept me up.

Stevie: Happy anniversary! I can’t make dinner tonight but I ordered you flowers.

Stevie: Won’t be home for dinner. Sorry.

Stevie: Don’t wait up. Work.

You weren’t an idiot. You knew about her. Another woman.

You’ve never felt so lonely. It’s hard to even remember the last time he made love to you. But you still remembered. With the memories still engrained, your body burned with the feeling of him. When he would fuck you, it would be so good. Headboard banging against the wall as he pounded straight into you. He used to love the whimpers that came out of your mouth. He used to love the way your skin felt, slapping against his. He used to love aftercare, cleaning you both up then cuddling up into you, legs intertwined. He’d whisper how much he loved you and how he wanted a life with you, a family with you. That’s what he would tell you, anyway.

You shook your head, tears falling down your face making the sheets soaked. This wasn’t how your life was supposed to go. You wanted to stay married, have kids, settle down near the compound. But that’s just a dream. You knew you weren’t the most perfect person. You were stubborn and sometimes hard to deal with but you thought he loved that about you.

Middle fingers up, put ‘em hands high

Wave it in his face, tell him, boy bye

Tell him, boy, bye, middle fingers up

I ain’t thinking ‘bout you

“You’re being ridiculous! I’m not cheating on you! How can you not trust me?!” You stopped vigorously washing the dishes and turned your body towards him. “Not trust you? Steve! How can I trust you when you leave the compound at 5:00 pm and not come back until 4:00 am. How can I trust you when you’re never even here?! How can I trust you when Bucky says you’re in one place but you give an excuse of somewhere different. Then, you come home, smelling like perfume! I’m not stupid, you asshole.”

His facade faltered as he knew you were right. He was a cheater. He broke your heart. He knew you would find out eventually. He was such a horrible person. The one thing he didn’t want to do is hurt you but he can see he’s already done that. He messed up and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to fix his mistake this time. “Y/N...Babe, I’m so sorry-”

“You know what? Fuck you. Fuck you, you lying cheating ass.” You lifted up your middle fingers straight into his face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you like this, I’m so sorry.” He tried to get you to stay, to talk to you about all of this, to fix his mistakes. You waved him off, it’s too late for that. “I never meant for it to last this long.” You were just getting more indignant as he kept talking. You didn’t want to break down in front of him either. “I’m leaving. Don’t wait up, asshole.” You grabbed your jacket and your keys and slammed the door behind you. He started to weep, head deep into his hands as he thinks about his choices. Was a little fling really worth destroying his whole marriage?

Now I’m the one that’s lying

And I don’t feel bad about it

It’s exactly what you get

Stop interrupting my grindin’

You were never home as much as he wasn’t before you confronted him. Steve would come home to see the couch, bed, and guest bed empty. He knew he deserved it but he couldn’t help but feel his mistakes weigh in on him. His heart crushed in on itself but he couldn’t even imagine what you felt. What if the roles had been switched?

- -

Most nights you would go to a club near the Upper West Side. Far away from Brooklyn as possible. Far away from him. You had lied to Steve telling him that you and Nat were hanging out. He knew it was a lie. Your tell was an eyebrow twitch and it had, in fact, twitched.

You were grinding on a guy you just met, music pounding into your ears. It had felt nice to not be engulfed by him for once. The guy had told you his name was Sam. He had offered you a drink but you declined, needing to drive home at some point. “Driving? In New York City?” You laughed and explained your situation, having the pleasure of knowing Tony Stark. Sam was very charming, teasing you left and right. He was such a kind person, soft even, and oh so handsome. He stopped dancing and froze, seeing your hands. “You um... Married?” You looked down, your fingers grazed the band. You shook your head, tears springing to your eyes but not falling.

He frowned. He pulled you aside to give you some space from all the dancers. He wrapped an arm around you, shushing you as you cried. “I’m so sorry. I completely ruined your night.” He shook his head and told you how much fun he was having. He told you that you hadn’t ruined anything. As you explained, more tears ran down your face. “He cheated… I know I still have the ring on but part of me… is still attached, you know? I came here to forget about him but... All I can think about is him. It’s silly, I know.” Sam stopped you. “Hey, it’s not silly. It’s not to the same extent, I know, but I had a girlfriend that cheated on me in high school.” “Yeah?” He rubbed his hand up and down your shoulder.

“Yeah, She cheated on me with Brad. She didn’t even tell the guy we were dating.” You both laughed together all night about stories of exes and eventually about each other. You were both getting a little too drunk (you gave in and had a couple of drinks with him) so you decided to leave. “Hey, whenever you drop that dickwad and are ready to date again? Give me a call.” He winked at you and you giggled before you left. You called an Uber, deciding to leave your car at the club for now.

Steve had ended up tracking you from his phone. He told himself that it was for your safety, that he was just checking to see if you were okay. In reality, he was nosy and wanted to see if he if his suspicions were right. (They were).

You walked out of the club with a light smile, Sam’s phone number clutched in your hand. Steve stood in front of you, tapping his feet. “What are you doing here, Y/N? Especially rubbing your ass all over other guys. We’re married!” He knew it was a low blow but he couldn’t help but be angry. He was jealous. “Oh, you don’t get to do that shit. Not with me. I will grind on every single person in there if I want to. As far as I’m concerned, you never have had control over me. And you will never!” He stared at you, wide eyed. “And for the record, you cheated! Not me! Maybe think of that the next time you try and ridicule somebody.” You paused, taking your ring off of your finger. “You know what? Here, I’ll make it easier for you.” You shoved the ring into his hand and sauntered off, not missing the sad guilty look on Steve’s face. “See you at home, Steve.”

I left a note in the hallway

By the time you read it, I’ll be far away

I’m far away

“I’m leaving him.” Bucky sighed as you handed him the note you wrote. He started to read it as a tear rolled down your face. What was Steve thinking? You were fun, smart, kind, and fuck, so beautiful. Hell, Bucky was the first one to hit on you when you introduced yourself to the team. But he knew it wasn’t those attributes. It was Steve. He was insecure that you would leave him for someone who doesn’t go on missions or put your life in danger. He wanted you to leave him for those reasons. He wanted you to be with someone who wasn’t PTSD ridden with nightmares from his past. It was his own insecurities that clouded his mind and made him act out on them. It had nothing to do with you. Both him and Bucky knew that. Bucky just wished he would have talked to you instead of putting his dick in another woman.

Bucky nodded. “Good. I think leaving him is the right choice. Nat and I have agreed to offer you to stay here as long as you need it. Never think you’re alone in this, Sugar.” You hugged him and thanked him greatly. You knew without Bucky and Nat, you would be struggling even more. The thought of support made your heart soar. Why couldn’t he have just talked to you? Tell you after the first time that it was just a mistake. But it’s too far now. You didn’t even know how long this has been going on. Honestly? You didn’t really want to know. Too long, was the answer.

Tears flowed down your eyes and down your chin. “Oh... Honey… It’s alright.” You barely heard Bucky, too engrossed in your thoughts. “Why me? Why did he do this to me? What’s so wrong with me that he-” Bucky enveloped you into a big hug, Nat came into the room once she heard crying. She and Bucky share a knowing look. She knelt down in front of you and spoke softly. “Honey, you know it’s not you. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve anything that puts you in harm’s way, you’re too pure. You shine brighter than anyone, Y/N. Always remember that.” Nat wiggled her eyebrows. “And who knows? Maybe that Sam guy will be the one!” You rolled your eyes at her but nevertheless giggled.

You laid in Bucky and Nat’s guest bedroom, you couldn’t sleep with all of the thoughts running through your head. You didn’t want to leave Steve. Especially after three years of marriage but you knew it was time. It was time to move on with your life. Time to let go of a life you can’t have. Of a person, you can’t have.

He only want me when I’m not there

He better call Becky with the good hair

“Do you love her?” “I-I.. I don’t know. I love you, Y/N.” Your face immediately turned into a scowl. “No. You don’t get to fucking do that. I will not sit here and let you say you love me when you don’t. Maybe you did at one point but you cannot truly love someone if you fucked another person. You’re despicable, Rogers.”

That hit him like a train. You hadn’t called him Rogers since you met him at the compound. It felt like his heart had stopped beating. “Y/N, please… Can we talk about this?”

“I hope she treats you well, Rogers. Better call Sharon now so she can pick your sorry ass up. In your eyes? Nobody can beat a Carter.” You picked up the last bit of your boxes and left the room, shutting the front door with your foot. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you drove away, looking at that house just one more time.

Steve had the note clutched in his hand, getting tears all over the paper. He didn’t care though. All Steve can hear is the sound of his heart pounding in his ears and your car driving away. He cursed himself for being so stupid. He didn’t know what he had until it was gone. But he should know that cheaters never prosper.

chapter two

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tact-and-impulse · 4 years

Text

Basically, since I saw the novel translation that Akane meets with Kougami’s mom, my mind ran wild with speculation. Spoilers for up to First Inspector.

Stouthearted

Tomoyo is accustomed to living alone. Wake up, brush her teeth, have breakfast, check the news offered by her AI secretary.

The golden starfish cheerfully spins as it announces her Hue. “Mint green!”

“Thank you, Hoshiko.” She finishes her coffee, the bottom of the cup sweeter than the rest. She has a lengthy schedule for the weekend but just before she can bring it up, there’s a knock at her door, loud enough to scare Hoshiko into vanishing.

She fastens her bathrobe and runs a hand through her unruly hair. No one’s visited her in a long time. Uncertain and cautious, she only opens the door a crack, enough to see who this stranger is. “Hello?”

“Good morning!” Her visitor is a young woman, whose face is briefly obscured when she bows in greeting. Behind her, a storage drone patiently waits. “I’m sorry to disturb you. Inspector Tsunemori, from the Public Safety Bureau.” She holds up her ID in confirmation. “Are you Kougami Tomoyo-san?”

“Yes…please, come in.” Tomoyo pulls the door further. It’s best that whatever conversation will follow, it should happen inside.

“Ah, just a moment.” Tsunemori unlocks the drone and removes a box from the metal interior, almost too big for her to carry.

“Do you need help?”

“N-no, I’ve got it.” She sets it down and sighs with relief as Tomoyo closes the door.

“I know who you are.”

“Eh?”

“Well, a little.” She concedes. “Shinya called me now and then, and your name came up often. He said you were a good boss.”

It’s comforting to put a face to the name, and she does look young, but tragedy colors a person in a specific, indelible way. Tomoyo recognizes it as Tsunemori’s gaze clouds over. Her answer is strained. “Not as good as I would have liked to be.”

An awkward pause follows, before Tomoyo offers. “I was finishing breakfast. Would you like anything?” Even as she asks, she heads into the kitchen and grabs a cup.

“I don’t want to bother you-”

“No, not at all. It’s been a while since I’ve had a guest, so I apologize for the clutter. Tea? Coffee?”

Tsunemori gives a little smile. “Coffee, please. And I don’t mind, my apartment is far from organized. Oh.”

“What is it?”

“I just realized I might have made things worse for you. Um, the box has books and clothes. Personal items. Not the dishes though, the Bureau took them for reuse. Anyway, I thought, since you’re his mother, you would like his things.” The girl is very nervous, stumbling over her words, but she doesn’t break eye contact. It reassures Tomoyo.

“I would. Thank you very much.” She softly replies. “For now, unpacking can wait. Have a seat.”

They sit across from one another, Tomoyo having refilled her own cup halfway. She’s unsure of what to discuss; there must be protocol to adhere to, and she doesn’t want to make things more difficult for Tsunemori.

Thankfully, Tsunemori speaks first. “I’m sorry, if I interrupted any plans.”

“Nothing urgent. When you live alone for a long time, plans become flexible. I should be the one apologizing, if you’re on the clock.”

“No, it’s okay. I haven’t taken time off before, and this had to be done.”

Hm. She decides Tsunemori isn’t bad.

They sort through the box together. Tomoyo doesn’t recognize most of the books, the titles unfamiliar. The clothes also seem foreign, tinged with bitter cigarette smoke. She never did approve of that habit, and she frowns as she piles the different articles around her. And yet…underneath the acrid smell, it still smells like her boy.

One of the bulkier items is a fur-lined coat, something for the winter months. She sees the way the girl’s fingertips brush over the collar, how her eyes become weighted with melancholy.

“You can keep it.”

“Eh?” Tsunemori looks up at her, startled.

“I can’t keep everything in my place, and besides, you were his boss. Thank you for looking after my son.”

Tsunemori murmurs a half-hearted protest, but she folds the jacket in her lap. It goes with her when she leaves, and Tomoyo assumes that’s the end.

***

But it isn’t. Tsunemori continues to visit, every month or so. Each time is fairly short, enough to drink tea or coffee together. She’s a sweet young lady, unfailingly polite and conversational. They talk about nonconsequential things. The weather, novels, cooking tips. The latter proves to be a bountiful topic, since Tsunemori is inexperienced.

Once, Tomoyo asks about her work. She’s curious if anything’s changed since Shinya was an Inspector. It really hasn’t, and it doesn’t surprise Tomoyo, yet she can’t help but feel disappointed.

In turn, she describes a little of her job, that she analyzes data sent from the local hospital. The majority of her work is remote. She does not share why, though she’s certain Tsunemori can guess. Although the Sybil System can insist it only punishes criminals, family inevitably suffers too. They are carriers of some insidious factor or ticking bombs of the same defective nature but with longer fuses.

Tsunemori also doesn’t ask, though she receives an interrupting message. “Something just came up. I’ll see you later…Kougami-san.” It’s not the first time she’s hesitated addressing Tomoyo.

“Please, ‘Tomoyo-san’ is fine.”

She visibly relaxes. “Then, you can use my name too. It’s Akane.”

“Akane-chan it is.” And for the first time in a while, her smile feels natural.

***

On a rare night, she wakes up crying.

Hoshiko, dimmer in night mode, hovers over her. “Your Hue is Aquamarine. Would you like mental care?”

“This is my mental care. Tears are like stagnant water; sometimes, they need to flow out to feel better.” Satoru told her that once. She couldn’t remember where he read it from, but in moments like now, she could easily recall his voice. “And tears tire me out, I’ll go to sleep soon.” She forcibly shuts the AI down and dabs at her swollen eyes.

It takes an hour, but she does fall asleep again. In the morning, she dusts Shinya’s old room.

***

On her visits, Akane offers to help around the house, but she insists that the younger woman sit and relax.

“It’s enough that you keep an old lady like me company.”

“You’re not so old, Tomoyo-san.”

She gives Akane a flat stare. “But you must have friends your age, or a boyfriend or a girlfriend.”

“I do have friends, we meet up sometimes. As for a boyfriend, I’m too busy for one.” She pauses. “I hope your husband doesn’t mind me intruding.”

She’s perplexed for a moment before she remembers the steel band on her finger. “Oh, this isn’t a wedding ring.” Out of habit, she gives it a twist. “It’s an old gift from Shinya’s father, Satoru. We grew up on the same street, although he was ahead of me by two years. He helped me in my literature classes. Shinya has his father’s scholarliness. Always reading, always thinking inward.” She remembers glancing up from her essays, light pouring from her childhood bedroom window, to steal looks at Satoru’s thoughtful profile.

“It sounds like you still think highly of him.” Akane carefully says.

“I always will. When I was young, they had just introduced the compatibility matches. Satoru and I were a good match, but he had a better one with someone else. A rich girl, in the city across the lake. He left by boat to speak to the family in person, to explain that he couldn’t accept, but there was a bad storm. He drowned.”

There had been an investigation, a pair of detectives who had questioned her. In hindsight, they were very kind to her, but she was aggravated and terse and though she didn’t know it at the time, hormonal.

“You must have been very upset.” Akane softly says.

“My Psycho-Pass was…volatile. Crime Coefficients were not available then, and I’m not sure what mine would have been. But after I found out I was pregnant, I committed myself to living for the child.”

Her son was born in the dark, cold, early time before sunrise. Towards the end of her labor, she had been so exhausted, it took effort to breathe. Her eyelids felt weighted when the doctor urged her to see her baby. One look upon Shinya’s squalling little face, and she was no longer tired.

“My parents helped before they passed. Satoru’s family had pushed him to accept the other woman, so we weren’t close. But they sent money to Shinya, at least until he was an adult.” They cut off ties completely after his Hue clouded. “And now, he has no one, wherever he is.”

Tsunemori’s expression is troubled, but she doesn’t speak.

It’s been one year since her son vanished into the outside world. She wonders if he’s eating enough.

***

She dreams of traversing her high school’s corridors. She doesn’t know why she’s here. The faces of long-gone teachers and classmates blur around her. She has to leave, she can’t stay, though she doesn’t know why. She decides that it’s because Satoru isn’t here. The hallways seem so much longer, and the stairs widen at an exaggerated angle. Other students crowd around her, and it’s agonizing to finally reach the exit at the ground floor.

She opens the door, and runs headlong into the rehabilitation facility’s visiting area, almost colliding against the glass screen that separates her from her boy. Shinya’s in white robes, his face gaunt and unshaven. When he looks up at her, his eyes are shadowed from lack of sleep. His darkened Hue floats above his head, and she relives this memory, the dread of learning her son’s become a latent criminal.

He smiles at her in recognition, but it quickly turns bitter. “Sorry, Mama.”

***

“Your Hue is very clear. That’s quite surprising. Most parents in your situation fare worse.” Her therapist marvels.

“I do what I can. I get by.”

“Well, I think you can excel in group therapy.” A short explanation follows. “The advantages are well-documented. I believe you’d be a good addition. You can take your time to think it over.”

She’s given a pamphlet, which she pockets and leaves on her kitchen table. It stays there while she’s eating. This time last year, she would have thrown it away by now. She’s been self-sufficient for so long, it’s become her gut instinct to reject anything that disrupted her carefully crafted solitude. However…Akane’s presence has reminded her it could be pleasant to talk to other people. Healing.

She’ll go once, and then she can reevaluate if she needs to. After dinner, she has Hoshiko add group therapy to her schedule.

***

“You smell like cigarettes.” Tomoyo points out. “Have you picked up smoking?”

“Not exactly.” Akane looks embarrassed. “I just light them and leave them on an ashtray.”

“Secondhand smoke is still dangerous.”

“It isn’t too often. Only to help me think.” The connection to Shinya is blatantly obvious. Not for the first time, Tomoyo wonders what their relationship was. From what she recalled, Shinya had thought well of Akane; he had said she had an optimistic perspective and a detective’s instincts. Once, he mentioned she was kind. That was high praise from him. Tomoyo couldn’t forget it.

“I didn’t like it when Shinya started and I still don’t.” She bluntly says. “But as long as you’re careful, I won’t say any more.”

Akane nods. It’s not a promise to quit.

***

There’s a period of time when Akane doesn’t visit for three months. When she finally knocks on Tomoyo’s door, she’s welcomed with open arms.

“How are you doing, Akane-chan? I assumed your work was keeping you busy.”

“It was.” She stares blankly for a moment, before she crumples and begins to cry.

Immediately, Tomoyo helps her in and sits her down in the nearest chair. She grabs a tissue box and pushes it toward Akane, as she murmurs. “There, there. Take your time.”

Eventually, after a handful of wadded tissues, she’s able to speak. “…My grandmother passed away.”

“I’m sorry. You said you were close to her.”

She nods. “It was…very sudden.”

“Have you had mental care?”

“I have. My Hue’s alright. It still feels difficult though.” She looks so young, and Tomoyo remembers she’s only twenty-two.

“It might feel that way for a while, but it should pass. Your grandmother wouldn’t want you to suffer for her sake.” She reassures. She brings tea and water and crackers, while Akane recovers herself.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Any time.”

Before Akane leaves, she seems pensive, in the way a question is brewing in her mind. But she doesn’t, only reiterating her gratitude. Tomoyo suspects she was going to inquire about how she copes. In truth, she doesn’t have a definitive mechanism. Maybe, she’s just accustomed to carrying the pain, so tightly embedded in her Hue that not even Sybil can filter it out.

***

“Even artificial flowers brighten up the place, hm?” Tomoyo says out loud, as she arranges a vivid bouquet in a vase. There is no reply from the porch. Sae stares emptily into the distance, the wind ruffling her hair.

Now that Nobuchika-kun’s become an Enforcer, he reluctantly requested that should she happen to be near Okinawa, that Tomoyo visit his mother. “She always seems a little better after she’s had company.”

Tomoyo wasn’t confident, but she wasn’t in a position to judge and she trusts Nobuchika-kun. Her work had no issue with extending her trip by a day, since it was for mental care. Well, she never said who it was for, but as long as it was to help someone else, she had no qualms about bending the truth.

Satisfied with her work, she steps out into the fresh air. She adjusts the blanket over the woman’s lap, though it’s hard to tell if she’s comfortable. A set of beautifully crafted chimes sways and emits a haunting melody. Sae doesn’t react, and Tomoyo feels an irrational anger. They’re not alike at all. She could never imagine being in such a state, she’d rather be dead. But it wasn’t Sae’s fault either. The other woman never asked to be like this, not her or the other eustress victims.

Tomoyo sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m not a very good companion. But…we do have something in common. We’re among the countless women in history who were left behind by the men we love.” Akane’s face also pops into her mind.

Movement in her peripheral vision draws her attention. Sae’s lips purse, as if she’s about to speak. But her expression relaxes again into a blank slate.

Her hands itch with the need to do something useful, so Tomoyo takes hold of Sae’s wheelchair. “Let’s go for a stroll. The weather’s so nice, isn’t it?”

At the end of the day, she tucks Sae into bed. The woman falls asleep almost instantly, like a child. Tomoyo leaves her be, with the drones to care for her.

***

“I met him in Shamballa.”

Tomoyo’s throat goes dry, as emotion floods over her. “How is he?”

Akane smiles. “He’s well. He’s alive and intact, the last time I saw him. He’s on the move, helping people. I told him I visit you, and he said thank you. And that you never show any weakness.”

Shinya’s alive. Four long years, and finally, she has something to hold onto. “As long as he’s still breathing, that’s enough for me.”

“I thought you would say that.” Her good humor slips. “I wasn’t able to bring him back though.”

She reaches out, to reassuringly pat Akane’s back. “To be honest with you, that might be for the best. As much as I want to see him, his Psycho-Pass…”

“I know. I just wish there was a way. And now that I’ve met him again, I don’t think I can give up. I’ll keep trying, Tomoyo-san.”

A thank you pales in comparison to the intensity of her determination, so Tomoyo bows her head. “I believe you can. In the meantime, we’ll wait. We’ve already done plenty of that, haven’t we?”

“Yes.” Akane agrees. “But I hope not for too much longer.”

***

Her son is home.

He’s more solid now, but his face hasn’t really changed. Her nose wrinkles at the tobacco clinging to his clothes; she hugs him tightly anyway.

“Hi, Mama.” He says, and she fights back tears. She won’t cry in front of him, or Akane, or their friends looking on. And definitely not out in a driveway. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone.”

“I’m just glad you’re here.” She answers, ignoring her clogged sinuses. “And I haven’t been alone, not in a long time. Akane-chan’s been visiting me.”

“Akane-chan?” He repeats. His eyes dart to Akane, brows lifting. “That’s funny, I didn’t hear about that either.”

“Well, now you know.” She beams. “Come inside, Tomoyo-san.”

As he takes her jacket, Shinya mutters. “She calls you ‘Tomoyo-san’, Mama.”

“And?”

“I don’t get that same treatment.”

“If it upsets you, you should do something about it.” She dryly responds. Her son’s unamused expression makes her laugh, and she pats his cheek as she heads for Akane’s living room.

There’s a pair of women who she’s met today, sitting on the opposite couch. They’re friendly enough but she’s most familiar with Nobuchika-kun, who strikes up a conversation with her. His countenance lightens every time she sees him. He’s changed very much since his school days with Shinya, and she’s as proud of him as if he were her own.

She’s happy. Truly, unbelievably happy.

In the kitchen, Akane is making coffee for everyone, and Shinya’s stepped over to help her out. She’s never seen them together before, and now that she has, it’s like they’re tethered by a gravitational pull. It stirs the romantic in her to life after so long.

It is also the last time they meet for many months.

***

In the ensuing whirlwind of events, Tomoyo does her best to occupy herself. Group therapy has helped in that regard. She’s taken more of a mediating position as of late. It’s not long before an unfamiliar couple joins the monthly session. They introduce themselves with the name Tsunemori, and Tomoyo maintains a stoic expression. She treats them neutrally, trying to parse them out. They’re about what she expected: subdued and fearful of uncertainty, especially with regards to Akane.

Afterwards, she takes her time putting on her coat, watching everyone else walk out. When the Tsunemoris emerge, she strides a little ahead, so she can turn to them and speak.

“Your daughter’s strong. Have faith in her.” They blink at her in confusion, but she continues. “She’s helped me so much. If you have time, would you like to have tea?”

***

She calls him after washing her breakfast dishes. “Today’s the day, right?”

“Yeah, finally.”

She can hear the restrained impatience in Shinya’s voice and smiles. “Is your car clean?”

“Mama.”

“I don’t want Akane-chan to be driven out of that place in a dirty car.”

“Of course not. Don’t worry.” He grumbles.

“Well, I do. She’s like the daughter I don’t have.”

“…working on it.”

“What was that?” Of course, she knew what he said, but she wanted to hear him say it clearer.

“Nothing. We’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

She purses her lips. “We’ll talk more then. Have fun, be safe.”

He sighs, but his reply is fond. “Alright. See you later.” The call ends.

Hoshiko announces her Hue for the day. “Powder blue! Would you like me to pull up your shopping list?”

“In fifteen minutes. Thank you.” The starfish blinks out and she exhales. She’s alone, but not for long. She finishes her coffee with a smile.

#psycho pass #shinkane #very slightly #also references my shinkaneweek fics

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darriness · 3 years

Text

Klaine Fic - You’ll Always Be The Home - Chapter 1

Author: darriness

Fic Summary: Everything is finally settled in Kurt and Blaine's life...right?

Rating: T

Link to: Prologue

Chapter Word Count: 3172

Chapter Summary: A wedding.

Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, or just read the prologue to this. Here’s chapter 1! As always thank you to my amazing beta @darrenismydarcy

AO3 Link

Four years is a long time. A lot can happen in four years. A lot can change. In one four year span for example, Kurt and Blaine met, became friends, became boyfriends, graduated high school, broke up, and got back together again.

In the four years since their reunion, Blaine and Kurt have moved in together, graduated college, gotten engaged, started careers, and planned a wedding.

But if you ask Kurt and Blaine? The past four years have felt like both a lifetime and a milli-second in equal measure.

Blaine adjusts his cuffs and fidgets with his lapels as he stands behind the rows of chairs in front of him. Before he can once again reach for his lapels, his hand is grabbed and he turns to smile sheepishly at Bethany.

“Sorry.” He mumbles.

Bethany smirks and squeezes the hand she has in her own, “You’re adorable.” Her eyes soften as Blaine’s eyes flit around the room, “I am so happy for you...you know that right?”

Blaine’s eyes train back on his little sister and he smiles, “I do know that.” He says, softly, squeezing her hand in return.

*Four Years Ago*

“Can I paint my room any colour I want?” Bethany asks as Blaine fumbles for with the keys in the lock.

“Hmm?” Blaine hums distracted as he tries not to drop the bags in his hands.

“I said, can I paint my room any colour I want?” Bethany repeats.

“Oh uh, I don’t know. We’ll have to ask Kurt, I guess.” Blaine responds, finally getting the key in the lock and opening the door to the small apartment for only the second time. He hasn’t been back since he and Kurt got back together and now he and Bethany are going to be living here.

Bethany sighs as she pushes past Blaine in the unrefined way of a 12-year-old who wants to be the first one in, “We live here now. Can’t you make the decision? Or are we going to have to ask Kurt for everything now?”

Blaine sighs as he drops the bags he’s been carrying just inside the door. The apartment is empty, Kurt is at class. The pair had decided it might be easier to move in when Kurt wasn’t home.

“Just…” He doesn’t know how to answer. He’s never lived with anyone beside his family which means he’s never moved into someone else’s house. He’s not sure what the ‘rules’ are, or even if there are any.

Bethany rolls her eyes and flops down on the couch, letting the backpack she had been carrying fall on the ground next to her, “You said this would be a good thing for us.” She says with a raised eyebrow.

“It is.” Blaine says with a surety he doesn’t really feel. He knows Bethany was fine with moving and happy that Kurt was back in their lives but she’s also twelve...who knows if this really makes her happy.

*Present Day*

Music starts to play and Blaine takes a deep breath as he realizes that’s his and Bethany’s cue to walk down the aisle. He feels Bethany shake his hand in hers and he looks over at her with a smile. She smiles back at him before the pair begin to slowly make their way down the aisle.

He tries not to look over the crowd but can’t help but cast his gaze quickly over the faces. Friends and family all with beaming faces but unlike the former that is a mixture of friends they have as a couple and separately, the latter is all Kurt’s. Blaine threads Bethany’s arm more tightly in his own and keeps walking with a polite smile on his face.

When he and Bethany are finally at the altar he lets go of her hand and takes his place in front of the officiant as she takes hers just behind him as his ‘best woman’. He reaches to fidget with his suit jacket one more time as the music changes to signal it’s Kurt’s turn to make the walk he and Bethany just made.

He turns, like the audience in front of him does, to look at the back of the room and takes a deep breath when he sees Kurt standing arm in arm with his father. He feels Bethany nudge him in the back and he would turn to look at her if he wasn’t so transfixed. He has a feeling she would be beaming at him and maybe winking, anyway.

*Three Years Ago*

Blaine gets home from class with a tired but happy sigh. He loves New York, he loves school, he loves everything about his life right now.

“Bethany I said no!” He hears Kurt say from the direction of the kitchen and pouts his lips thoughtfully, pausing as he takes off his scarf.

“You’re not my dad!” Bethany shouts back at Kurt and Blaine hisses in a breath.

There’s quiet for a moment and Blaine is wondering who is going to blow first. Since moving in, Bethany and Kurt’s relationship has changed slightly. They’ve gone from partners in crime, so to speak, to something more resembling father/daughter, or at the very least, caregiver/child. Blaine knows Kurt tries not to act that way but it’s unavoidable when living under the same roof. Blaine isn’t necessarily surprised but there have been times, like the one right now, when he wishes they could go back to the way they were before.

Finally, Bethany lets out an unintelligible growl and stomps off toward her bedroom, not even realizing Blaine is there when she huffs through the living room.

Kurt follows a moment later but at a slower pace and doesn’t appear to want to actually follow her as her bedroom door slams. He sighs when the slam happens and swings his gaze to Blaine - fixing him with a resigned expression.

“She wanted to take the subway, by herself I might add, to a concert in the park.” Kurt recounts.

Blaine’s eyebrows shoot up, “Well, thank you for saying no.”

Now Kurt’s glance is slightly withering, “Of course I said no.” He says before sighing and looking back at Bethany’s door, “I honestly never imagined I’d be a parental figure to a teenager in my early 20s.”

It sounds more like he’s saying it to himself than Blaine but Blaine’s stomach still clenches with anxiety, “I’m so sorry, Kurt. I’ll talk to her.” He swallows thickly.

Kurt does a double take before he seems to realize what he said and he moves quickly to Blaine’s side and puts his arms around his waist and his forehead to his temple, “Hey, no. That’s not what I meant.” He says before sighing, “Just because I didn’t think my life would be this way doesn’t mean I don’t love it.” It’s Blaine’s turn to give Kurt a withering glance. Kurt shakes his arms around Blaine, “I’m serious! In a few minutes I’m going to go in there and talk with Annie and everything will be fine. Just because she and I fight now doesn’t mean I’m not happy with our life.”

The sincerity in Kurt’s voice makes Blaine breathe a little easier.

*Present Day*

When Kurt and his dad finally, after what feels like the longest walk down the aisle ever (definitely longer than Blaine and Bethany’s was), make it to the altar Blaine can barely contain himself. He tries to wait as patiently as possible for Kurt to hug his dad and then take his place in front of Blaine but the wait for that to happen feels almost as long as the walk did.

Finally, FINALLY, Kurt is smiling at Blaine and reaching forward to grab his hands. Blaine feels like he can truly breathe for the first time all day. He is so ready to marry this man.

*One Year Ago*

“Are you sure I can’t film this?” Bethany asks.

Blaine chuckles nervously, “No, you cannot film this! I’m already nervous enough as it is.”

Bethany smirks, “Yeah but don’t you want to remember this for all of eternity? I mean, unless he says no or you get a divorce or…”

“Annie!” Blaine exclaims, making Bethany giggle in a way she doesn’t usually do anymore. Blaine’s learning there are a lot of things 15-year-old girls ‘don’t do anymore’.

“He’s here!�� Bethany squeals, pointing over Blaine’s shoulder.

Blaine turns around in his seat to watch Kurt talk to the hostess before getting shown to the table where Blaine and Bethany currently sit. It’s a fancy restaurant where the hostess even pulls out Kurt’s chair for him before he sits down.

“Oh, thanks!” Kurt says with an amused chuckle at the gesture as he takes his seat, “Hey!” Kurt enthuses, reaching forward to grab Blaine’s hand and smiling at Bethany.

“Hey!” Blaine smiles back as Bethany waves.

“So, what’s the special occasion? I mean, not that I don’t love fine dining and a chance to wear one of my fancier outfits…” Kurt asks, looking back and forth between the siblings.

Blaine swallows. He had originally wanted to wait to do this until later in the meal but…

“Kurt,” He starts and he can feel Bethany’s eyes on him. She had also been under the impression this would come later and obviously understands the tone he’s using. Kurt seems to understand something big is coming too because he sits a little straighter and he tilts his head in interest. Blaine swallows one more time, “Kurt, when you came into our lives my only focus was Annie. And while I love her to death and have never for a second regretted becoming her primary caregiver...I wasn’t really living.” Kurt’s eyes have widened in seeming shock but he stays quiet, “And then you came into our lives and...everything got more colourful. You opened my eyes and my heart to a love I don’t think I could ever even imagine and I am so thankful to you for that.”

Blaine sends one more glance at Bethany who is beaming at him and nodding before he takes a deep breath and gets down on one knee. The tables closest to them are looking on but Blaine only has eyes for Kurt - who is currently staring down at him with wide glistening eyes.

“I love you more than words can say, Kurt, and you would make me the happiest man in the world if you would agree to become my husband.” He produces a velvet box from his pocket and opens it to reveal a platinum band with inset diamonds. Kurt gasps, “Kurt, will you marry me?”

Kurt is nodding before he even finishes speaking, “Yes.” He whispers breathlessly.

Kurt pulls Blaine to his feet and into a kiss as the tables closest to them begin to clap. The loudest cheers are, of course, from Bethany, who makes the pair laugh as she whoops and hollers.

*Present Day*

The ceremony is simple and yet perfect. They debated writing their own vows but decided, instead, to go the traditional route; saying ‘traditional’ words in a ‘non-traditional’ situation really appealed to both of them.

It turns out Blaine cries more than Kurt, but Bethany cries more than both of them to the point where Blaine pauses and asks the officiant to wait before turning and hugging Bethany to him for a brief moment. She cries into his shoulder and their photographer captures the moment forever.

When it comes to their first kiss as husbands, Kurt goes off script just a little bit and bends Blaine in a dip to press their lips together. The room cheers around them at the action and the pair come up laughing - Blaine slightly embarrassed but overjoyed, and Kurt exceedingly proud...and also slightly embarrassed.

As they walk back up the aisle hand-in-hand, they smile at their family and friends who are all beaming back at them.

*One Year Ago*

“Kurt, why are we still doing this? You’re already engaged!” Bethany exclaims as she helps Kurt move the coffee table.

Kurt grunts as he shifts the table into its final resting place against the wall and out of the way, “Because I have been planning this for weeks and Blaine deserves to be proposed to.”

Bethany smiles, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

It was no surprise that Bethany had been in on Blaine’s proposal but she had been surprised and ecstatic when Kurt had come to her the month before to enlist her help in his own proposal. Bethany had to keep both secrets for the month while inside she had been bubbling over with excitement.

Kurt takes a deep breath and looks around one more time, “So...is everything ready?”

Bethany also looks around before looking back at Kurt, “All we did was move the coffee table and put out champagne. You know, for someone as dramatic as you...this proposal is super low key.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, “Because this proposal is for Blaine.”

Bethany pouts her lips like she hadn’t thought of that before nodding, “Okay, that makes sense.”

They hear keys jingling in the hallway and both of them jump. Kurt shoos Bethany toward the door and she goes with a skip, making sure to wink at Kurt first.

She opens the door before Blaine can get his keys in and he looks up in surprise before smiling, “Thanks Annie.” He says.

Bethany rocks back and forth once, trying to contain her smile, before sweeping her arm into the apartment, “Right this way.”

Blaine quirks an eyebrow as he toes off his shoes, chuckling at the formal gesture, “What’s going on?”

“Would you just come?” Bethany asks with an eye roll, hooking her arm into Blaine’s and pulling him along.

When they get to the living room Kurt is standing where the coffee table usually sits. Blaine looks back and forth between the pair, “What’s going on?” He asks again.

“Blaine,” Kurt starts and Bethany unhooks her arm and shoves Blaine forward a little. When Blaine is standing in front of Kurt, Kurt grabs both of his hands in his own and continues, “You have brought so much into my life - love, laughter, joy,...Annie.” He winks at Bethany who is standing just behind Blaine and the teenager giggles softly before quieting, “And I know you already proposed to me and technically we’re already engaged but you deserved a proposal as much as I did.” He takes a deep breath and goes down on one knee. Blaine, inhales sharply and his eyes are already moist with tears, “You are the love of my life, you are my everything, and I would be forever grateful if you agreed to marry me.”

He opens a ring box to reveal a simple platinum band. Blaine stares at it for a long moment, silence ringing in the room before Bethany breaks in, “Would you mind saying yes? Kurt said I could have some champagne after.”

Blaine and Kurt chuckle from their position. Blaine shakes his head and bites his lips together as they quiet before kneeling on the ground in front of Kurt, “I will, of course, marry you.” He whispers before pulling Kurt into a kiss.

There is clapping this time, too, but only from Bethany as the pair pull apart and Kurt slips the ring onto Blaine’s finger. They beam at each other like they are the only two in the room before Bethany coughs behind them.

They chuckle again, “Did you really tell her she could have champagne?” Blaine whispers.

Kurt smirks, “One glass.” He says.

*Present Day*

“Bethany!” Blaine exclaims.

Bethany freezes with her glass halfway to her mouth and gives her brother a sheepish smile, “Uh….Kurt let me?”

Blaine rolls his eyes and holds up his index finger, “One.” He says as Bethany cheers and takes a sip of wine from her glass.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to be trouble with this whole drinking thing.” Blaine asks, leaning against the bar next to her. The reception has been raging for hours now, dinner long since over, and Blaine is slightly alcohol loose, a lot in love loose, and thoroughly enjoying himself.

Bethany rolls her eyes, “I’m not stupid.” She says and Blaine nods, leaving it at that for now.

“Wanna dance?” He asks, gesturing to the dance floor as a slower song plays over the speakers.

Bethany takes another sip of wine and jerks her head behind her, “Go dance with your husband. He told me half an hour ago that he’s sad you guys haven’t been able to dance as much together with all the entertaining and hosting. I’ll finish my wine and cut in later. Maybe after I ask Finn to dance.” She winks at him and Blaine chuckles as he scans the room for Kurt, who is looking at him from across the room where he’s talking to one of his relatives.

They smile at each other before Kurt pleads, wordlessly, with his eyes and Blaine chuckles before kissing Bethany’s cheek and heading over.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt.” He says when he’s close enough and Kurt’s relative coos at him, “I was wondering if I could steal my husband for a dance.”

The relative, who Blaine is sure he’s been introduced to but can’t remember her name to save his life, agrees easily and Blaine leads Kurt to the dance floor. They settle quickly into each other's arms and Kurt sighs in relief, “Thank you.” He breathes as they start to sway, “My Aunt Jenny is lovely if not a little...over the top.”

Blaine chuckles, “Well, that’s my job now. To save you from well meaning but exhausting relatives. It’s in the contract.”

Kurt’s face suddenly goes somber as they continue to sway and Blaine tilts his head slightly, “What’s wrong?”

Kurt sighs, “I just…” He pauses and cups Blaine’s cheek softly. Blaine looks at him curiously, “Are you upset your parents aren’t here? Were you...expecting them to show up?”

Blaine’s eyes widen in surprise slightly before he chuckles, “Well, considering we didn’t invite them, it would be very strange for them to show up now.”

Kurt sighs again, “Blaine…” He starts.

Blaine sobers before sighing himself and looking off to the side slightly. He notices Finn and Bethany dancing and smiles slightly before turning back to Kurt with one scrunched closed eye, “Maybe...part of me was hoping they might actually show up.”

Kurt’s heart breaks a little at the admission even though he’s the one who asked about it and he’d assumed that was going to be the answer. His heart breaks for Blaine who may never fully heal from the trauma of his past.

He puts his hands on either side of Blaine’s neck and leans in to kiss him softly. He can’t magically make everything okay for Blaine, but he can love him and remind him of how loved he really is.

He plans on spending the rest of his life making sure that happens.

#klaine #klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #my loves #my stuff #you'll always be the home

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