#it sucks that Amy wants to marry Fred

[princesssarisa]

Beth March for the 7 questions ask?

Three facts about them from my personal headcanons.

She's on the autism spectrum, or would be if she lived today.

She probably couldn't put into words why she's so especially close to Jo out of all her sisters, when on the surface they're opposites. But deep down she knows the reason why, besides "opposites attract": it's because they're both misfits. Meg and Amy are much better at following the rules their society expects of young women; Jo and Beth never fit that mold, Jo because of her tomboyishness and Beth because of her shyness. This mutual sense of being different draws them closer together, even though they're different in opposite ways. (I headcanon them both as neurodivergent – ADHD or bipolar Jo, autistic Beth.)

If she had lived, she might have eventually and unexpectedly fallen in love and gotten married. I don't think that would have been impossible. But it would have to have been with a very unique, understanding young man. He might be the only Little Women OC I'd ever be tempted to create.

A reason they suck:

She doesn't think she was ever meant to live long, because she never wants to leave her family, get married, or lead a "normal" adult life. What does that say to those of us in the real world who have that in common with her?

A reason they are great:

She's one of the kindest, most loving, most unselfish and generous people you'll ever meet, and she shows just how valuable the most easily-overlooked person (sickly, shy, never leaves home, etc.) can be.

A reason I relate to them:

I'm also "young" for my age, don't have any grand ambitions, and just want a quiet, peaceful life near my family.

(what I consider to be) the top tier otp/ot3 for that character:

None.

Five things that never happened to the character that I believe should have happened:

Someone (maybe Jo) should have taken time to imagine what her life would have been like if she hadn't gotten sick. That someone should have told her, or at least spelled out to the readers, that even if she had lived with her parents until they died, and then maybe moved in with Jo and Friedrich to help care for the children at Plumfield, that even if she reached old age without ever marrying, having children, or "achieving" anything outside the home, her life would still have been happy and valuable.

Her musical compositions should have been published, even anonymously or under a pseudonym.

During her final months, she should have talked with Meg and Jo about a subject that's not even brought up again after Part I – the idea that the scarlet fever that started her decline was Meg and Jo's fault, because they wouldn't go to the Hummels in her place when she asked them to. She should have told them never to blame themselves, that she had been caring for the sick baby for a week and was almost certainly infected already when she asked them to go. Though it isn't mentioned, I suspect that Jo wouldn't have been so crushed with grief and depression after Beth's death if a part of her didn't still feel it was her fault.

She should have had more one-on-one interactions with Meg and Amy; even though she's clearly the closest to Jo, it would be nice to see more of her relationships with the other two.

After her death, someone (maybe Laurie in one of his ignorant moments) should have made a passing comment that she was "too fragile for this world," and someone else (either Jo or Amy) should have argued against that perspective. I'm just sick of seeing critics say that Beth has to die because she's too fragile for this world, and I wish the book spelled out that she wasn't.

Five people that character never fell in love with and why.

Laurie. He's a good friend; that's all.

John Brooke. Ditto.

Mr. Laurence; he's much too old and is more of an honorary grandfather.

Friedrich Bhaer. She sadly never meets him, but even if she had, he would just have been a good friend.

Frank Vaughn. Another friend, but not a love interest.

Fred Vaughn. Unlike Frank, he has nothing in common with her.

[the-other-art-blog]

Did Amy really wanted to marry rich?

Amy receives a lot of hate for wanting to marry a rich man as if she were a gold-digger. And I get it, it’s wrong, even if she’s doing it to help her family. But it’s not like she wants to do it since she were a child or even as a grown up woman.

1994 adaptation has 12 year-old Kristen Dunst saying that she already knows she will marry rich. And 2019 movie has Aunt March placing this big responsibility on Amy since she’s just a child.

The book is quite different:

In Chapter 13 Castles in the air, all Amy says is that she wants to be a famous painter.

‘I have ever so many wishes, but the pet one is to be an artist, and go to Rome, and do fine pictures, and be the best artist in the whole world,’ was Amy’s modest desire.

She never says she plans on marrying rich or anyone for that matter.

Then in Chapter 15, she says this,

‘Jo and I are going to make fortunes for you all. Just wait ten years, and see if we don’t,’ said Amy...

These aren’t the words of someone who plans on living off her husband’s money. It rather sounds like a girl who plans on working to bring money into the house. She is the one who would make a fortune, not her husband. She’s going to earn it, just like Jo wants and just as Louisa and May did in real life.

Then, everyone thinks Amy went to Europe to catch a rich guy. Really, her sole purpose is to see if she has genius or not to make art. And even if she doesn’t have it, she plans on working. Like May, she wants to be an art teacher.

‘It isn’t a mere pleasure trip to me, girls,’ she said impressively, as she scraped her best palette. ‘It will decide my career, for if I have any genius, I shall find it out in Rome, and will do something to prove it.’

‘Suppose you haven’t?’ said Jo, sewing away, with red eyes, at the new collars which were to be handed over to Amy.

‘Then I shall come home and teach drawing for my living,’ replied the aspirant for fame, with philosophic composure. But she made a wry face at the prospect, and scratched away at her palette as if bent on vigorous measures before she gave up her hopes.

She doesn’t jump excitedly at the prospect of being a teacher not because she doesn’t want to work, but because it would mean she didn’t have genius to WORK as a painter. Cause yeah, painters are also hard working people! It takes a lot of effort to compose a canvas, A LOT of training. Furthermore, she would need to earn her place in expositions like the Salon and be a good businesswoman to sell her works.

The reason why everyone believes Amy planned on marrying rich is because of Jo.

Jo had just lost the Europe trip due to her own lack of self control. She bought it on herself. But it’s normal she is angry and bitter at Amy, so she says this,

‘No, you won’t. You hate hard work, and you’ll marry some rich man, and come home to sit in the lap of luxury all your days,’ said Jo.

I don’t even think Jo believes this completely. She’s angry, more with herself than with Amy. We all say hurtful things when we are in a similar situation, things that we end up regretting. Even if Amy has had luck, Jo has seen her working. Actually just before she learns that Amy got the trip, she acknowledges her virtues and apologizes to her,

‘I understand now what you mean, and I’ll never laugh at you again. You are getting on faster than you think, and I’ll take lessons of you in true politeness, for you’ve learned the secret, I believe. Try away, deary, you’ll get your reward some day, and no one will be more delighted than I shall.’

But Amy keeps defending her plan on being an artist or a teacher and even a patron!

‘Your predictions sometimes come to pass, but I don’t believe that one will. I’m sure I wish it would, for if I can’t be an artist myself, I should like to be able to help those who are,’ said Amy, smiling, as if the part of Lady Bountiful would suit her better than that of a poor drawing teacher.

Just as Jo always dreamed of opening a school for boys, Amy always dreamed of being a patron of the arts.

Back in the XIX century the image of the American girl traveling to Europe to get a rich bachelor was very common. Both Louisa and May traveled a few times, never with that intention in mind (even thought May did ended up finding love in Europe and Louisa had a quick rendez vous with Ladislaw). They were there to work and learn. And they both rejected that negative stereotype. May even wrote a guide for women who wanted to pursue an art education for real. So no way Louisa would have portrayed Amy as one of those women.

Ok, so in Europe Amy meets Fred Vaughn. Again, her thoughts never go to marriage until he brings her serenade! Honestly, she didn’t think of him as anything more than a friend before that. Was she a bit naive? Sure. But it shows that Amy didn’t go around Europe flirting with every bachelor on purpose. She knows how to flirt, she did it pretty well with Laurie’s friends and Laurie himself! So if she wanted to flirt with Fred, she would have done it consciously.

It’s until then that Amy realizes Fred has other intentions. Then she starts considering the implications of the courtship and eventual marriage.

It breaks my heart that Amy knows her family thinks of her as a cold person.

Jo says I haven’t got any heart. Now I know Mother will shake her head, and the girls say, ‘Oh, the mercenary little wretch!’,

And it’s when she writes those words that will condemn her forever by public opinion and by JoxLaurie shippers,

I may be mercenary, but I hate poverty, and don’t mean to bear it a minute longer than I can help. One of us must marry well. Meg didn’t, Jo won’t, Beth can’t yet, so I shall, and make everything okay all round. I wouldn’t marry a man I hated or despised.

Even then, she sees it as a duty. Her three older sisters failed to provide enough money for her family. Jo is in New York and she’s trying, but she sells her stories (which she doesn’t even like and cause her psychological distress) for only $20 each! No one else is willing to do this, so she must.

She sets firm on her resolution until Laurie reminds her of her family values. And later when they get married, she is ashamed that she ever thought of marrying for money!

So people thinking Amy is a gold digger who only cares for luxury and comfort, they need to stop looking at the story from the POV of a petty Jo. The story is not even told from Jo’s perspective, it’s an omnipresent narrator.

For god’s sake, would you like people to just hear the things others say about yourself, or would you want people to know you? Well, Amy deserves the same.

[reciprocityfic]

champagne problems, chapter six

title: champagne problems fandom: little women pairing: theodore laurence x amy march rating: m summary: amy accepts fred's proposal, and laurie comes home and marries jo. but instead of it being the end of something, it's just the start of something bigger.

(or, how laurie and amy find their way back to each other.)

chapter one: champagne problems chapter two: right where you left me chapter three: it’s nice to have a friend chapter four: the end is here chapter five: moments that we stole (on begged and borrowed time)

this godforsaken mess

She leaves the Laurence residence not long after that.  He helps her bundle up again for the short walk to Orchard House, and sends her off with a long kiss to her cheek.  His lips are so soft and loving against her skin that it makes her want to cry.  Again, she feels the urge to stay with him, to just love him, the world around them forgotten.

But level-headed, clear-eyed, guilt-ridden Amy wins out - at least this time - and she leaves.  She does look back once as she walks down the front steps, sees him standing in the doorway watching her, infinite sadness and infinite longing in his eyes. She forces herself to turn away, and she doesn’t realize that a few tears have fallen from her eyes until the winter wind blows against the dampness on her face and stings her skin.

When she reaches the road, she stops, makes an attempt at taking a steadying breath and takes off one of her gloves, wiping at her eyes with chapped hands.  She takes another deep breath, but her chest still shakes as she exhales, and she decides trying to collect herself is a fruitless endeavor - she’ll just have to try to sneak past her family and close herself in her room until she can calm down.

Her family.  What will they think of her, she wonders, when the curtain is finally pulled back and this whole façade comes tumbling down.  She quickly pushes the thought away, because she can’t stomach the probable, obvious answer.  Still, it echoes in the back of her skull.

They’ll hate you.  They’ll hate you for what you’ve done.

No, she thinks.  Marmee is too good to hate, and so are Meg and her father.  Jo, though…

Jo will hate her.  Jo will hate her.

She shakes her head, trying physically to clear her mind, somehow.  She gazes off into the distance, thinks more of her family.  Of her sisters.  Of Meg, who will be somehow understanding through her worry and disappointment.  Of Jo, who will burn with wild, intense vitriol.  Jo, who wouldn’t even look at her as she tried to apologize for burning her book, whose tearful yet sneering voice rang out into the night.

She doesn’t deserve my forgiveness! And I will hate her, I will hate her forever!

And she’d sworn - she’d sworn. Never again.

Finally, she thinks of Beth.  Of Beth, who would love. Simply love, without condition.  She’s been thinking of Beth even more than usual lately, missing her so palpably that sometimes the pain of it causes her to stop and suck in a quick, deep breath through pursed lips.

And her feet move all of the sudden, start to walk before she’s even consciously aware of where she’s going.  The distance between her and Orchard House and the Laurence residence grows and grows, until the two homes are mere specks on the horizon behind her.  A little more than a mile down the road, her path veers into a grove of trees that clears and opens up into the town’s graveyard.

She stops in front of Beth’s headstone, lowering herself ungracefully to the ground and not caring as the wet snow begins to soak through her coat and skirts.  She reaches out and brushes snow from the cold stone, traces her fingers over the letters engraved on its surface.

ELIZABETH MARCH

“Hello, dear Beth,” she whispers.

She doesn’t speak right away, instead focusing on the flood of memories that fill her mind.  Memories of her sister.  Of her kindness, graciousness, of her long, wavy, strawberry blonde hair and soft voice.  Of her fingertips, calloused from all her time playing music, guiding Amy’s over the keys of the piano.  Of the way she would shyly hide behind her, even though she was the older of the two, when someone new would come to visit.  Of her gentle smiles as they played, her quiet excitement on birthdays and Christmases.

And again, of creeping over to her in the middle of the night, the single candle illuminating their room almost burned to nothing, and whispering in her ear.  She can still feel the heat of embarrassment flush her skin as Beth giggled, and the way her quick, nervous heartbeat had slowed slightly when her sister squeezed her hand in comfort.

And she promised she’d never tell.

“I don’t know what to do,” she murmurs into the air.  To Beth.  She, again, tries to steady herself with a breath, but it turns into a sob as she exhales.  Her eyes blur with tears.

“I don’t know what to do, and I just - I miss you.  I miss you.”

Her hand still rests against the headstone, and her fingers curl around the edges in desperation.

“I miss you so much, Beth.”

She lets herself cry - there’s no one around to see her anyways.  She leans forward, pressing her forehead against the stone, the roughness of the rock scraping her skin.

“What do I do?” she asks.  “Beth, what do I do?”

And tears continue to fall from her eyes.

* * *

By the time she returns to Orchard house, it’s the middle of the day, and glimpses of afternoon sun are trying to peek through gray clouds.  She opens the front door, and hears the laughter of her parents.  She hopes the sound will drown out her footsteps and the creak of the door, but as she tries to escape up the stairs, she hears her name.

“Amy! You’re home!”

She turns to find Marmee walking towards her, a smile on her face that quickly falls when she sees the state of her clothes.  She’s still wet from sitting in the snow.

“My goodness, what happened to you?!”

“I…fell,” she lies stupidly.

Marmee stares at her incredulously, but shakes her head after a moment, and reaches out her hand.

“Come, sit in front of the fire.  You must be freezing!”

She hasn’t really thought about it, but now that her mother has said, she realizes that she is cold, and that her teeth are chattering as she shivers.

But she can’t go into the front room and face her family.  Not now.  Not yet.

“I want to get out of these clothes first,” she tells Marmee.

“I’ll help, then,” Marmee says, and the tone of her voice lets her know that her mother won’t be stopped.  The woman has already started up the stairs, so she doesn’t protest.

Marmee closes the door behind them as they enter her room.  She removes her gloves and unbuttons her coat as her mother removes her hat.

“You were gone quite a long time.  Breakfast with Laurie must have gone well.  How is he?  I’m surprised he didn’t come back with you.”

“Oh, yes,” she answers, wringing her hands together nervously.  “It was fine, and Laurie is fine.  I left a while ago, though.  I…took a walk.”

“You and Laurie?” Marmee asks, as she helps her shrug off her coat.  Once they’ve hung it up, her mother starts on the buttons on the back of her dress.

“I went myself, actually,” she says, and Marmee is quiet, waiting for her to explain.  “I went to see Beth.”

Her mother’s hands stop their work on the ties of her skirts.

“Oh, Amy,” her mother breathes.  “Here - let’s finish getting you out of these wet things, and then we’ll talk.”

After she’s undressed and put on some dry underclothes, Marmee sits down on the bed, patting the empty space between her as she beckons Amy to join her.  She sits slowly.  She feels odd, all of a sudden.  Like something is bubbling up inside her and pushing her slightly off-kilter.

Marmee wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“You miss your sister?”

She nods her head stiffly, still feeling strange.  Feeling like she’s on the peak of something tall, and about to fall off.  Or maybe she’s deciding whether to jump off or not.

“I wanted to talk to her,” she murmurs, barely.  “About…about Laurie.”

Her mother doesn’t speak right away, and she can feel Marmee pull back slightly as she turns to look at her.

“Laurie?” she questions.  “What did you want to -”

“I’m in love with Laurie,” she tells her mother softly.

She’s suddenly hyper-aware of everything - of her Marmee’s sharp inhale and arm that is suddenly stiff around her shoulders. She hears the whooshing of air as she breathes, the creaks of the house as it settles in the cold.  She hears another laugh from Hannah and her father drift up the stairs and past the closed door.

“And Laurie is in love with you?”

Marmee’s question surprises her, and she looks up at her mother with wide eyes.  Her mother’s stare is soft but knowing, and she’s reminded of the time that the woman almost caught her and Laurie in the attic.

“You knew,” she whispers incredulously.  “All this time, you knew.”

“I suspected, but didn’t know anything with certainty,” Marmee tells her.  “The two of you aren’t as subtle as you think you are.”

She feels her blood rush from her head at that, and a chill runs up her spine.

“Does Father know?” she asks quickly.  “Meg?  Hannah?  Does - does Jo…”

She trails off as her stomach drops.  She feels like she’s going to faint.

“They don’t know,” her mother answers.  “Or if they do, they haven’t said anything to me.”

She nods, relief flooding through her.  She looks up at the ceiling and squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, but Marmee's questions start again.

“Have you told each other how you feel?  You need to tell me what’s gone on.”

“Yes, we’ve told each other.  And…and we’ve kissed,” she says sheepishly, and she begins to fidget as shame fills her.  Her mother’s arm around her shoulders doesn’t relent, though.

“Just once?” Marmee asks.

She doesn’t answer immediately, and her mother squeezes her arm.

“More than once,” she breathes.

Marmee clears her throat, and takes a sharp breath.

“Has there been anything more than kissing?”

“No,” she answers immediately, but she can’t help but think of earlier that morning, of his hot mouth against her, his body between her legs, how much she wanted him.

Marmee rises suddenly, and she drops her head into her hands.  She waits for her mother to scold her, but when she doesn’t, she scrambles to apologize.

“Marmee, I know it’s wrong - it’s despicable - and I’m so, so sor-”

“You received a letter from Fred this morning,” her mother says, interrupting her.  She raises her head and watches as Marmee picks up a letter from the table near the window in the room and then comes to sit next to her again.  She pushes the letter into her hands.

“Read what we he has to say, and then write to him that you’re coming to him,” Marmee instructs.  “It doesn’t matter where he is - Europe or America.  You want to go be with him and begin planning for your wedding immediately.”

She looks at her mother desperately, her fingers tightening around the envelope in her hands.  Marmee smiles back sadly, lifting her hand and running it down her daughter’s face.

“It’s sudden, and I’ll miss you terribly.  We all will. But,” she says, exhaling quickly and closing her eyes briefly.  When she opens them again, they shine with tears.  “It’s what must be done.  Although we can’t change what has already happened, we can stop it from happening again.”

She stares at her mother, the wisest person she’s ever known.

“Alright,” she whispers.

“Alright,” Marmee repeats, and then wraps her in her arms, hugging her tightly against her chest.  “Alright,” she breathes again, into Amy’s hair.

It feels wrong.  It feels so terribly, awfully wrong, just as everything has since she ran from Laurie in the garden after his proposal, and so often she tries to pinch herself and hopes she’ll wake up from this horrible nightmare.  That she’ll be able to rush back to him, tell him that yes, she’ll marry him, of course she will, yes, yes, yes.

But she never wakes up, and she knows this isn’t a dream.  And now, this is the only path forward.

It feels wrong, but it has to be right.  It has to be.

She hugs her mother back, burying her face into the fabric of Marmee’s dress.

“I’m so sorry, Marmee.”

“It’s going to be alright,” she whispers, her voice wavering slightly.  “We will fix this, and everything will be alright.”

She isn’t sure she believes her mother, but she doesn’t tell her that. Instead, she hugs her more closely, and closes her eyes.

* * *

The next morning, she’s just finished telling her father and Hannah of her new plans when there’s a knock on the door - three times, loud and succinct.

There’s only one person who knocks like that, and before any of them can make it to the door, it opens, and there she is.

Jo.

Confusion overtakes her at the same time her stomach drops. She glances at Marmee out of the corner of her eye, who gives her a tight-lipped smile before focusing back on her sister.

It’s Amy who speaks first, though.

“What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming back from New York for at least four more days.”

“Well, hello to you as well, dear sister,” Jo answers, frowning slightly before pulling Amy into a hug.  “You’re not glad to see me, then?”

It’s not that I’m not glad to see you, she wants to say. I just can’t stand the guilt that eats away at me when I do.

Instead, she tries to hold back a grimace as she embraces Jo.

“I’m always glad to see you, Jo,” she murmurs in a low voice, squeezing her sister more tightly for a moment before stepping away from her and staring at her feet as Jo goes to Marmee.

“Amy.”

Her head snaps up, sees him standing there in front of her.  He’s wearing a dark gray suit.  She recognizes it immediately as the same one he wore the day she first saw him in Paris and jumped from her carriage without a second thought, throwing herself into his arms.

It’s Laurie, she’d told Aunt March, as if that was enough of an explanation.

I know, the old woman had said, like she’d somehow understood.

It’s Laurie.  It’s always been Laurie.

“Laurie,” she whispers, her heart twisting.

She can’t read the expression on his face, namely because there isn’t much of an expression there.  Other than the small, almost regretful smile he gives her that is there one second and gone the next, his face is blank.  He maneuvers around her, careful not to touch her as he follows his wife further into the house. 

“My business in New York finished up early, so I decided to come home and surprise Teddy and the rest of you,” Jo continues as she lets go of Marmee and comes to stand in front of the fireplace, looking at Father and Hannah.  Neither of them have moved, despite Jo’s arrival; her father sits with a pensive frown on his face, while Hannah simply gazes at Amy, her eyes beginning to shine with tears.

Jo slowly frowns as she picks up on the mood of her family, which is decidedly more reminiscent of a funeral than of a celebration.

“What’s going on?  Is everything alright?” she asks, something like panic seeping into her voice.  “Is everyone okay?  Where’s Meg and John?  Daisy and Demi?”

“Everything’s quite alright,” Marmee says suddenly, stepping forward and wrapping her arm around Jo’s shoulders.  “More than alright, actually.  Amy just shared some wonderful news with us.  Right, dear?”

The enthusiasm in Marmee’s voice is clearly forced, but no one points this out.  A beat of silence settles over them.  It isn’t until her mother clears her throat that Amy realizes she’s meant to speak.

“Oh, yes!” Amy says, inserting the same false excitement Marmee used into her voice. “Very wonderful news.”

She falls silent again.  She can feel everyone’s eyes on her, and before she can find words, another voice rings out.

“Well, tell it, then,” Laurie prompts.

His voice is like ice.  Like somehow, he knows what she has to say.  What she’s decided.

“Amy,” Jo urges her, after another moment of silence.  She can hear in Jo’s voice that her sister is still unsettled and on high alert.

“I’m going to Fred,” she finally murmurs.

“What? Speak up,” Jo demands.  “I can hardly hear you.”

She wrings her hands together, and clears her throat.

“I’m going to Fred,” she repeats more loudly.  “We’re…we’re going to get married.”

Silence falls over them all again, and it’s so quiet that they could hear anything - the drop of a pin. The squeak of a mouse.  Her ears begin to ring slightly.  Again,she feels everyone’s gazes permeate her being.

She can sense his eyes the most, though.  Laurie’s gaze, boring into the back of her skull.

Jo is the first to find her words.

“Fred is here?  In Massachusetts?”

“Oh, uh,” she hesitates, glancing at Marmee, who tries to give her daughter an encouraging glance.  “Not exactly.  He’s still in Europe - London, to be exact.  I’m going to him.”

“You’re going to Europe?”

Amy looks up at Jo, who stares at her incredulously, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes, Jo,” she answers.

“I thought Fred was coming back soon.”

“He was, but -”

“But what?” Jo interrupts.

“But things got hectic and now he needs to stay!” she says, her voice raising now at her sister.  At Jo, who always found a way to criticize everything she did.  “And I should go be with him!  What am I doing here, Jo, really?  You’re married and in New York constantly, Meg has John, Daisy, and Demi.  And here I am, doing nothing and with nobody!”

“You don’t have nobody.  You have us,” Jo counters, motioning to the other people in the room.

“Things need to change,” she says, ignoring Jo.  “I’m ready to start the rest of my life.  I’m tired of waiting.”

Jo gapes at her for a moment, and then narrows her eyes.

“Ready to start a life with a man who doesn’t love you?”

Amy’s mouth falls open.

“Jo!” Marmee scolds.

“What?” Jo scoffs.  “It’s true.  He won’t even come home and marry her, for goodness’ sake!  And, besides - she doesn’t love him, either.”

“That’s not true,” Amy says, almost growling the words at her sister.  Jo’s right, of course, but she’s offended and angered Amy now, to the point that Amy would argue with her about anything.

“It is true.  I know it.”

What do you know about love? she wants to ask her sister.  You, who’s stuck in a marriage with a man who doesn’t love you and who you don’t love.  You, who ruined everything when you decided to reconsider Laurie’s offer.  You, who created this whole godforsaken mess.  You, you, you!

She bites her tongue, barely, and crosses her arms over her chest.

“It doesn’t matter what you think you know, Josephine.  I’m doing this, with or without your blessing or permission.”

“No, you’re not.”

The sound of Laurie’s voice jolts her.  Everyone falls silent, and she turns slowly to face him.  He’s at the edge of the room, a stern, pensive look on his face.  But he’s looking over her head, staring at nothing.

“Excuse me?” she murmurs.

“You’re not doing this,” he says, finally turning his eyes towards her.  His gaze is resolute.  Like he’s decided something.

“What I do is not up to you,” she tells him, her anger flaring up at him now, too.

He must know why she’s leaving.  That it’s what is best for the both of them.  That it’s the only solution to their mess of a situation.

“You’re right,” he says quietly.  “What you do, or don’t do, is not up to me.  But I also won’t force you into a decision you’re unhappy with.  If you go to Fred, then you’ll go to him for the right reasons.  Not because you feel like it’s your only option.”

Suddenly, his intentions hit her like a sound punch to the stomach.  Her eyes darken, and her voice drops.

“Laurie,” she whispers carefully.

“What are you talking about, Teddy?” Jo asks, confusion in her voice.

He gazes at her for a moment more, before turning his attention to his wife.

“Laurie, what are you doing?  Don’t do this,” she tells him desperately, trying to grab onto his sleeve as he walks past her and towards her sister.  But he pulls his arm from her grasp.

“Jo, I need -”

“Laurie, you can’t do this,” she begs desperately, panic setting in.  Her hand shakes as she reaches up and takes hold of the back of his suit jacket, trying to pull him away from Jo.  “No good can come of this! Laurie, please don’t do this.”

He turns to her suddenly, peers down at her with eyes that are decidedly weary.

“Aren’t you tired, Amy?” he asks her.  “I am.  I’m so tired of everything.  And I won’t…I won’t do this anymore.  I can’t.  I’m too tired.”

“What’s going on?” she hears Jo ask, but she’s too focused on Laurie to offer a response.

“Laurie,” she begs once more, tears welling in her eyes.

“What you do is not up to me,” he says, “but what I do is not up to you, either.  Your sister - everyone here - they deserve the truth.  My wife deserves the truth.”

“The truth about what?” Jo asks, the breathless worry from earlier settling back into her voice.  “Teddy, what is going on?”

He stares at her for a moment more as a tear falls from the corner of her eye.  He reaches out, wipes it away with the pad of his thumb against her skin, and then drops his trembling hand.  He turns towards her sister.

She hears his next statement as an echo from some faraway place.  It almost feels like she’s a girl again, and she’s just fallen through that frozen lake.  Her ears are full of water and she can’t catch her breath.  She doesn’t know what’s going to happen.

 “Jo.”

She’s so scared.

“Jo.  I have to tell you something.”

[slytherinnbitch]

Proposal Part 2

Part 1

Harry walks into the cemetery in happy spirits. He can't wait to tell his parents about his decision to marry Draco.

When he stops infront of his parents grave, he finds fresh flowers there already. That's weird...

He frowns as he vanishes them and conjures up his own flowers in their place.

"Hey Mum, hey Dad," he says as a way of greeting as he sits down beside them.

"So I'm proposing to Draco tomorrow, I think it's about time, you know? It's just...I- I miss you. Like I have everything but one. Draco's parents, they aren't bad. I think I like them somewhat. Yeah I know how that sounds, Padfoot is probably horrified right now. The Malfoys, pup? How could you!" Harry makes a poor impression of Sirius and smiles as he thinks the scene which is hopefully happening in some other world.

"Tell him I know what I'm doing. Well somewhat. Do you think he will say yes? What if...what if he doesn't want to marry me? What will I do then, Mum? Honestly, I have no idea but I hope I don't have to think about that. I shall get going now, it's late and Draco is waiting." He caresses the grave once fondly, says his goodbye and apparates away.

...

"Hey Mione, I can hear Pans in the background as well." Draco says when he answers the phone call. It had taken him some time but now he could easily use most muggle appliances.

"Dracoooo," Hermione slurs and that astonishes Draco because Hermione never drinks a lot. Just a glass of wine or maybe two mugs of lager but not so much to get drunk. Just 'happy tipsy' she had called it when he had asked years ago.

"We have a secreeeeeet," Pansy sing-songs in the background.

"What secre-" Draco starts but suddenly it's Ron on the line, "Hey mate. Don't pay them mind, I have never seen these two more drunk. Hermione wanted to call to tell you that everything is in proper order and they have told Harry that tomorrow you have a picnic under the stars, as a gift from them. We'll meet you after, yes?"

"Yes, if everything goes well. Otherwise I would be vanishing from the face of the Earth for the next decade or four." Draco jokes, not really. Ron chuckles and they hang up.

Just then, Harry comes home and they order takeout, both of them too tired to cook dinner.

Just before midnight, Draco traps Harry between his body and their bedroom wall, "Hello, love."

A shiver runs down Harry's spine and Draco grins slyly, even after a decade Harry has the same reaction. Honestly, it's good for his ego.

"Hi..." Harry breathes, as he arches his neck in a silent request. Draco places sweet kisses all over his jaw and neck, sucking new marks and biting the tender skin now and then.

Harry is panting by the time he finds his lips. His wand vibrates in his pocket at the slight reminder that it's their anniversary.

"Happy Anniversary, Scarhead." Draco says against his lips and Harry smiles.

"Happy Anniversary, Ferret."

It's tradition to call each other names when wishing the other on a special day and at this point, it's quite adorable. You didn't hear that from him.

...

"We should really thank Hermione and Pansy for this, don't you think?" Harry asks as they finally sit down on the picnic blanket. The sky is bare of any clouds and they can easily see all the stars.

"Indeed, we should. What about an exclusive vacation to some exotic place? You think they would like that?" Draco suggests. It's the least he could do after such an wonderful arrangement.

"I think so, point me your star again?"

He takes Harry's hand and points towards the sky, slowly making an imaginary line with their hands.

There's a pleasant breeze blowing and the place is absolutely perfect, it's now or never.

"Harry, love. I have something to say," Draco says tentatively. Ugh, nerves!

"Oh? I have something to ask as well. You can go first though," Harry offers and smiles charmingly at him. Salazar and Godric, hope he says yes. Because Draco doesn't know how to live with a no, not after everything.

Here goes...

"Could you please stand up, please." Draco asks, "There's something I like to show you."

Harry frowns at him for a moment but stands up and faces Draco. He really hopes Hermione and Pansy can see them and start-

The sky is filled with different fireworks and Harry looks at them in awe. Harry had always been fascinated with fireworks and nothing brings Draco more joy than making Harry smile.

The words Will You Marry Me? shines through everything at last, crystal clear- thanks to Fred and George's handiwork. He gets down on one knee and takes out the ring box and holds it open.

Harry frowns at the words in the sky for a moment, then opens his mouth to say something to Draco and freezes when he sees him on knee.

"Draco..." Harry gasps, and his eyes widen. Maybe this was a bad idea, well it's too late now anyways.

"Harry, love. Today marks our ten years and in the past decade, I have learned so many things, I learned kindness and how love feels like and how- what I'm trying to say that in the last decade you have made me a better person each day and made me fall more in love with you. I want to do that for the rest of our lives and even if I don't really deserve it, I want to make you mine forever. So tell me, Harry James Potter, will you do the honour of marrying me?" Draco finishes with a smile and a single tear rolls down Harry's cheek.

"As inspiring as that was. This just isn't fair!" Harry whines and for a moment Draco thinks Harry is going to stomp his foot.

Draco hasn't been more confused in his entire life. He gives Harry a questioning look. Is he even going to get an answer or what?

Harry takes a calming breath and goes down on his knees. "This is what I'm talking about," he says and fiddles with his jacket and produces a black box, a ring box and was he ......

He opens the box and Draco looks up at him, "Yes, you idiot. I was planning on asking you tonight but no you always have to compete me." Harry huffs and then Draco starts laughing.

He can't help it, it's funny. They are both idiots, utter idiots. Harry looks very much like he wants to join Draco in his amusement but he holds off for ami minute, looking slightly put out. Then he joins in as well.

"So that's a yes then?" Draco asks, it doesn't hurt to be sure. Harry looks at him with are-you-actually-this-daft expression, usually Harry is on the receiving end of that expression.

"I can't even look at you right now." Harry says and drags him in for a rough kiss.

"Idiotic prat." Harry says as they break apart. "No Draco, I won't marry you. I just wanted to see how it might feel to propose to you on our anniversary just for laugh, yeah?"

Draco gives him a sheepish smile and Harry shakes his head.

"Give me your hand," Draco demands and Harry smiles fondly at his tone and gives his left hand. Draco takes out ring and places it on his ring finger where it will rest forever.

"My turn," Harry says and takes his hand in his and delicately places the ring there.

They look at each other tenderly with all their love on display, then slowly come closer. As if it's their first kiss and it feels like such as well, almost shyly they kiss each other, tender with love and rough with passion.

...

As they pull apart, someone behind them mutters, "Fucking finally!" And then all their friends are there, yelling out congratulations in various degrees as they come out from wherever they were hiding.

Pansy is the first one to reach them and she engulfs Draco in a hug and murmurs something in his ear which makes Draco swat her arm. She is onto Harry when Hermione arrives, closely followed by Ron, Blaise, Luna and Ginny.

They all congratulate them as hugs and kisses are exchanged. Harry is grinning throughout the night, even as they make their way back home.

He had been surprised when he noticed that they both had chosen almost identical rings for each other, except for the size of the diamonds. He had kissed Draco very inappropriately when he had noticed, much to Ron's horror. Seriously, the dramatics never stopped when it came to Ron and Draco.

"Draco...did you...visit my parents yesterday?" Harry asks as they keep their coats.

"...yes, I did, you know to ask for their permission. How did you-" Draco doesn't get time to finish because Harry is onto him.

He can't express the amount of love that passes through him at that single sentence. Draco went to Godric's hollow to ask his parents. The gesture is so sweet that he can actually feel his heart ache. They lose themselves in one another after that, no longer waiting for words to express their feelings, but rather showing it with their actions as they make sweet tender love.

Unbeknownst to both of them, craved inside their rings, is their story.

Masters of Their Own

Tagging @cissa-bee @sorry-i-ship-drarry @cupofsquirrelfan @textrovert-01 @a-disasterperson @thebusyfangirl @moramystery because you all requested this!

Part 3

[apolloloki97]

“The Angry Guy” Mickey Milkovich x Ian Gallagher

IMAGE CREDIT: SHOWTIME

Summary: The one where Trevor witnesses an angry Mickey after someone tries to hurt one of his family members. However, Trevor doesn't know right away that he's seeing his ex's new husband.

Word Count: 1460

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “Chosen One” by Valley of Wolves

Note: Summary kind of sucks, but we'll go with it. This is my first time writing Shameless! I'll need a few to get my groove with it, but God I love GALLAVICH.

------

Trevor was sad to be out of Washington D.C., but being back to walking around the streets of the South Side felt as if he had never left.

After spending time on Capitol Hill trying to convince lawmakers to propose new bills to protect LGBTQ youth, he was exhausted. However, there was something about being back in Chicago that put his mind at ease. The bustling sounds of people, the harsh clanking of the L, and even the blaring sirens that never seemed to stop made it...home.

Then there were the people. He had missed his kids the most and even with daily phone calls and texts, it wasn’t enough. He had to get back to them and continue his work. As Trevor headed towards the Youth Center, he passed by a commotion on the corner. A cop car was half on the sidewalk as a suspect was being pinned down while a shorter man was yelling obscenities at him.

“You fuckin’ go near him again, I ain’t gonna be callin’ the fuckin’ cops, asshole!” the short, dark-haired man was yelling as a tall cop with glasses hauled a handcuffed man into the back of the squad vehicle.

“Fuck you!” the bleeding man yelled as the cop slammed the door shut behind him. The other man simply flipped him off with a smirk.

“Did you need to beat him over the head with a beer bottle?” a familiar voice said, drawing Trevor’s attention.

“Look, I didn’t fuckin’ kill the guy, Gallagher,” the dark-haired man said with a shrug. Another cop, one Trevor instantly recognized as Carl Gallagher came into view from the shop behind the altercation. He was looking at the man in front of him with an exasperated look on his face.

Trevor was surprised to see Carl with a badge. From everything Ian had told him about his younger brother, Trevor figured Carl would be the one in handcuffs rather than doing the arresting. “Gallagher!” the other cop yelled, “you coming or what?”

“Nah, man, I already called Rollins for a ride, gotta take this one’s statement,” Carl said with a point at the fuming man beside him. The other cop nodded and then got behind the wheel to take their prisoner away. Carl then turned back to the dark-haired man.

“You’re on parole, idiot,” Carl said.

“Hence the beer bottle, moron,” angry guy said, as Trevor had come to call him in the short moment of observation.

“Who the fuck says ‘hence’?” Carl asked.

“Me, bitch.”

“Whatever, just don’t do anything else stupid,” Carl continued. “I don’t want to have to arrest you.”

“The fuck did I do?!” angry guy exclaimed. “He was the one who swung first! Motherfucker nearly took Liam’s head off!” Trevor jolted at the sound of the youngest Gallagher sibling’s name. Someone had tried to hurt him and angry guy was clearly upset about it. Carl, however, didn’t seem to be that concerned.

“He ducked,” Carl reminded angry guy.

“You’re a real fuckin’ asshole sometimes,” angry guy said.

“Ah, I love you, too,” Carl said with a roll of his eyes.

“Whatever, I’m goin’ home. Try not to corrupt the fuckin’ city, will ya?”

“You gotta go meet Ian at the hospital!” Carl called as angry guy began walking down the sidewalk towards Trevor. “Debbie texted me, they’re gonna be there a bit longer.”

“I thought you said he was fuckin’ fine!” angry guy said.

“Liam hit his head when he fell,” Carl said.

“Fuck! Alright, I’m goin’. See you at home?”

“Yeah man,” Carl said. “Oh, and Mick!” Angry guy, or rather, Mick, turned one more time and stared at Carl expectantly. It was then that Trevor finally realized who ‘Mick’ was and why he seemed familiar.

Mick. Mickey. Mickey Milkovich.

Ian’s ex.

When Ian and Trevor had heard the news that Mickey had escaped prison, Trevor had watched as Ian’s world was pulled out from under his feet. Trevor had asked around after that, learning as much about the infamous Mickey as he possibly could. Lip was the one who gave him the best answer. Apparently, the two had known each other since Ian was fifteen and had been together on and off. From the way the eldest Gallagher brother explained, Trevor didn’t think they had the healthiest relationship.

However, whenever he heard things from Debbie or even on the off chance, Frank, Trevor realized that Mickey Milkovich was Ian’s, first epic love. That was part of the reason that Trevor hadn’t been surprised when Ian had run off to get him to Mexico to avoid prison. However, considering Mickey was standing in front of him and Carl was yelling about parole, Trevor figured that Milkovich had somehow worked the system and was a free man. Also, he was clearly back in Ian’s life.

“What!” Mickey yelled, answering Carl.

“Ian needs you to pick up Franny on the way,” said Carl.

“Why is nobody just texting me instead of you?” Mickey asked.

“Because you used your phone to smash that asshole’s face the first time, remember?” Carl said and Mickey paused before nodding.

“Right, got it,” Mickey said. “Well, why can’t Ian have you pick up Little Red?”

“I gotta work!” Carl said as another squad car pulled up, Rollins, Trevor figured.

“You’re his brother!” Mickey argued.

“And you’re his husband, start acting like it!” Carl shot back as he got in the car and flipped Mickey off as he sped off toward the station. Trevor was staring at Mickey in shock then.

Husband.

Mickey Milkovich married Ian Gallagher.

“The fuck you gawkin’ at,” Mickey suddenly said, breaking Trevor out of his trance. Trevor hadn’t realized he had been staring.

“Nothin’, man,” Trevor said. Mickey looked at him for a second before rolling his eyes and walking the other way. Trevor watched after Milkovich for a second before hastily pulling out his phone. He had unfriended all of the Gallaghers after Ian and he broke up, but he knew Debbie’s social media were still public.

It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. Halfway down the feed on her Instagram was a photo of Ian and Mickey in black and white tuxes, holding hands, as rice was thrown into the air. Ian had the biggest smile Trevor had ever seen on his face. Mickey, who was not only sporting a black eye, but a grin of his own, was looking into the camera Debbie held, but Ian’s gaze was somewhere else. Ian Gallagher was staring at his new husband as if Mickey hung the stars and Trevor felt a pang in his heart because he knew that Ian had never looked at him like that. Two matching wedding bands were on their fingers as they walked towards the car at the end of the walkway filled with friends and family.

Trevor continued to scroll after the wedding photos to see even more photos of Mickey Milkovich around the Gallagher family. There was a photo of Mickey spraying Franny with the hose as she tried to hide behind her Uncle Carl. Another was Mickey holding a small baby as Lip looked on with adoration for the infant. The caption read: Uncle Mickey holding Baby Fred for the first time. Already giving Lip fatherly advice.

More and more, there were photos of the ex-con surrounded by his in-laws. However, there also seemed to be an overwhelming amount of photos taken of him and Ian before and after the wedding. It seemed that Ian and Mickey were Debbie’s favourite subjects to take photos of. There were ones of them laying together on the couch during family movie night, a few taken at the traditional South Side bonfires, and even one of the newlyweds each holding one of Kev and V’s twin girls. Gemma and Amy both beaming up at their newly-married uncles.

There was one photo, however, that Trevor couldn’t stop looking at. It wasn’t anything out of the normal for social media, but for Mickey Milkovich it was historic. The photo was of Ian, Mickey, Debbie, and a girl that Trevor didn’t know. Debbie was kissing the girl in her arms while Ian had his arms around Mickey as the latter kissed him firmly. In the background, a large pride flag flew from the parade that was going on behind them.

“Mickey Milkovich at a Pride parade,” Trevor muttered as he stared at the photo in awe. With a smile, Trevor looked back at a retreating Milkovich, now Milkovich-Gallagher, and shook his head in amusement at the thought of Mickey being protective of Liam, joking with Carl, and kissing his husband at Pride.  “Damn Gallagher,” Trevor said with a sigh, “guess he wasn't that nuts after all.”

[lovelacegsl]

Hi! Are you still accepting amy Laurie fic prompts? If you are can you do 127. I'm tired of pretending?

I'm sorry this took me so long but anyways here it is, I've been terribly drained from inspiration but I managed to pull this out. Hope you like it! Also this is from the universe tolerate it where Amy married Fred and Jo married Laurie out of desperation!

Being married to Fred Vaughn has brought her wealth, security and a title, she should have every reason to be elated, her twelve year old self would be very proud, Amy consoled herself with the thought more often than not. She was surrounded by beautiful gowns and perfectly trimmed silk ribbons and surrounded by beautiful balls and perfect dinners and a handsome husband who so clearly loved her.

Her life was perfect, but Laurie was right, too much perfection becomes dull and boring too soon but she suck up to it and plastered her best smile when Fred carried her to his fuzzy English state. Sometimes she even believed she was happy, when Fred tried and succeeded to make her laugh, or when he complimented her art or her dress. Though those are superficial compliments, where Laurie would have complimented her cunning eye for capturing a landscape just right. For capturing an emotion just right.

She was surprised to say the least, when Fred mentioned visiting her family in Concord, it's been almost over a year since they married and moved to London. Who would have thought that all she dreamed as a girl could make her so unhappy? The thought was bitter but familiar, she was already used to it.

“That would be lovely, Fred,” Amy said trying to hide her smile and her fear and all the emotions bottling up inside her.

The Laurences offered a room in Plumfield for them, for the time of their visit which would be shortly of one month, she would love to move there and help Meg with her children now that John was gone, but she thought it was fine with helping her financially. She knew it was not fine, at least not emotionally. At least things were how they were supposed to be, weren't they? Jo and Laurie married, she and some fine European gallant they always expected her to find. She couldn't wait to go home, where there wouldn't be any nagging eyes pressuring for answers as to why she wasn't pregnant yet. She didn't knew either, maybe from lack of trying, she had maneuvered the ability of sucking Fred's cock for when he was hard and insistent against her, he never bothered to ask for more when she was finished and swallowed his fluids.

Her family received her with open arms, the first stop was Meg's house where she gave the twins gifts and sweets she brought from London, Meg almost cried when she saw her youngest sister and Amy could only hold on for dear life at her sister. Orchard House was just the same, the same old, small house but still filled her with the dreary feeling of regret, Marmee's face filled with compassion and somewhat small disappointment, Amy did not care anymore, she'd been use to it since she was young. Her father looked older, too, his eyes had more wrinkles. Jo was never one for holding big dinners or parties or balls, Meg had offered herself to organize some kind of gathering in Plumfield for her and Fred, Amy was glad at least to have all her family gathered. Her heart plummeted when she saw Laurie's mop of hair but she ignored it.

“Jo! Jo!” Amy yelled, her heart filling itself with long forgotten fondness and love for the sister she most fought with, Jo looked away from her garden and pulled herself upright, laughing and greeting her with the most beautiful smile Amy's ever seen in her face before Amy pulled her in a hug, she never thought seen Jo would get her in such a good mood since she, after all, married Laurie, she could see Fred engaging himself in an amiable conversation with Laurie.

“Laurie,” Amy said and he smiled at her, they were, after all, siblings weren't they? He pulled her in a hug and she allowed herself to bury her face in his collarbone for a minute before pulling back. He smelled of wood and clean laundry and it made her heart ache.

She didn't slept that first night, the memories that haunt her were too much to bear, the place was too familiar and she wondered if Laurie ever thought of her there, this place that used to be hers and Laurie's, once in a long time ago was now Jo's and Laurie's. She woke up in the middle of the night wrapped in Fred's big, strong arms, he was too warm for her to bear so she stood up and stretched silently walking downstairs to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Her eyes filled with some tears when she remembered herself and Laurie eating strawberries in there, alone and laughing, him doing his best to be a distraction for her.

She started to wander through the big, old house, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from groaning at the changes her sister had done. It was a school now, so it was a very possibility that it would change, the change was unwelcome in Amy's eyes. She only hoped for the drawing room to be the same, where she would draw Laurie and he would play the piano for her, she missed him, so much it ached her ribs, they never talked about what had happened between them. His half heartedly confession to her that dreary afternoon, that one day she didn't followed his confession out of anger, that one day he married Jo. She didn't wanted to talk to him but, almost as if she manifested him, he was there as soon as she walked in

“Amy,” Laurie said in surprise as she stepped in the drawing room, she opened her lips for a minute and swallowed when his mind caught up on what she was wearing, which was a red silk robe on top of her nightgown.

“My apologies, I thought it was empty in here,” Amy said wrapping her arms around herself and he nodded “I'll just go,” She nodded and started to back away.

“No, stay, I don't mind,” Laurie said but he hadn't looked up from the piano, she sat down in the couch there and stared at him, those same dark eyes that used to admire her in Paris, when she was the only thing that kept his attention. She longed for those days, where she slung her arm across Laurie's crook of his elbow and walked around Paris like it was theirs, and it was, where he used to read to her and she would sketch him, where they would gossip at balls.

“I-We have missed you Amy, the town isn't the same without the frolicsome sister,” Laurie said cutting the silence, she looked up at him, her hands fidgeting with her robe.

“A lot of things aren't the same,”Amy answered softly and he finally looked up from the piano keys, she's never seen him look older.

“You're right, it feels as though it was centuries ago that I visited you here everyday,” Amy nodded and fixed her gaze on the floor

“Where's Jo?” Amy asked instead and looked up when he didn't answered, he shrugged and she nodded lifting her eyebrows “I've missed you too,” Amy allowed herself to say and he looked at the floor. He looked like he was swallowing words.

“You have everything you always hoped for, don't you?” Laurie asked finally and she sighed heavily.

“I suppose so, and so do you,” Amy said because it was true, it was never the plan to marry the other, it had been a change she had never allowed herself to hope, a universe where Laurie loved and desired and wanted her. When it happened she was wholly unprepared and messed everything up. How weird everything was, having everything you always wanted only to realize you didn't wanted it anymore.

“I suppose,” Laurie murmured and stood up from his seat in front of the piano, she knew this was wrong, so wrong, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She wanted to be selfish, just like Jo always described her as. He sat down next to her in the couch though in the other corner, far away from her. It felt like a whole ocean was between them, she thought it might have been better not coming at all, being so close to Laurie was making her blood sing, she wanted to scream and kiss him, slap him and make him bury himself inside of her. She would never, though, nor Jo nor Fred deserved such thing.

She knew things weren't ideal with himself and Jo, Meg had written about it to her.

'𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘈𝘮𝘺, 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱'

'𝘓𝘢𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘣, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮'

“How is... how is London?” Laurie asked “I've talked to Jo about visiting you, but it's a little hectic around here,” Laurie said fixing his gaze on her face. 𝘈𝘸𝘧𝘶𝘭, she wanted to say but occupied herself explaining her new, big house, detailing the balls she went to and how she did brought those sweets he had written to her. His eyes looked at her attentively, and she tried to ignore it. “It's good talking to you again Laurie,” Amy concluded and he nodded looking at the floor, the air was too uncomfortable and tense.

“Do you think, you could like, stay here longer?” Laurie asked with hope and she smiled brushing a strand of his hair off his forehead and shook her head

“Fred has to go back to work,” Amy said although she did wanted to stay.

“𝘐'𝘮 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, Amy, I'm so tired you wouldn't understand,” Laurie said closing his eyes harshly, it took her unprepared once again. She thought they've both put it behind them.

“I never thought you were doing a fine job either anyways,” She teased and he gave her a tight smile at last, reaching to hold her hand, it made a spike run through her spine.

“We were never the best at those plays, were we?”

“No,” Amy said with a small laugh, he smiled back and it looked more sincere than all of his smiles and before she could stop him, stop it. His lips found hers, she didn't pulled back but didn't deepened it for a minute, her heart fluttered in her chest and he kissed her so slowly it made her head cloud with fog and it made her want to sob. Her hand fisted in his hair and kissed back, desperately, she resisted the urged to put herself in his lap and moaned when his lips drifted to her neck “We can't, we can't Laurie,” He ignored her and kissed the spot behind her ear and his fingers traced her breasts, she arched herself into his touch and clamped her thighs together to reign in her desire, she never knew it could be like that. He pulled back from her and she stared at his flushed cheeks, his toussled hair, his red lips.

“I'm sorry,” He whispered and she nodded pulling back completely and biting her lip to keep herself from sobbing, she leaned her head in his shoulder and felt him press a kiss to her forehead.

“I'm sorry Laurie, I'm sorry for marrying Fred,” Amy whispered at least and his arm wrapped her shoulders.

“It's fine,” Laurie said at last and she sighed when he pulled back. He reached inside the pocket of his nightgown. A ring.

“It was my grandmother's,“ Laurie said, a beat “Jo... never wanted it, she said it's too much for her,” Amy's eyes prickled with tears, she took the ring from his fingers and ached to slid it in her finger.

“It's lovely,” Amy murmured with a lump in her throat as she examinated it, she tried to return it but he shook his head.

“I know you can't wear it, but I though, maybe for... someday,” He murmured making her look up from the ring.

“Thanks Laurie,” She chose to put it in the pocket of her nightdress instead “Maybe, someday,” He nodded and smiled sadly, his eyes expressing sadness, hope, tiredness. He closed them for a second and instead of saying anything else, she bent down and pressed another kiss to his lips which he accepted heartily.

She clings to the promise like a lifetime, and she knows Laurie does too, they found each other once, they'll do it again.

[suburbantimewaster]

Most Hated Characters

This is a list of characters I hate because they’re poorly written, not because they’re written to be hated.  So Joffrey from Game of Thrones is safe.

Ross Gellar (Friends): Where to begin with this guy.  He obsessed over a girl since high school and, when he gets together with her, acts like a possessive douchebag to the point that he doesn’t like Rachel going to a work lecture with a colleague.  Then complains about her actually having a life outside of him when she gets a career in fashion.  Even though, earlier, he didn’t like that Rachel was just a waitress.  Not to mention his misogyny, where he refuses to hire a male nanny who was qualified in every aspect expect for being a man.  Then makes a huge deal about Ben playing with a Barbie doll.  Not to mention that he whines and whines about every small thing that goes wrong in his life, even though a lot of them are his own fault.  People who complain about the live-action Jafar being too whiny seriously need to take a look at Ross Gellar, the king of whine.

Dawn Summers (Buffy the Vampire Slayer): While I absolutely love this show, and Buffy Summers is my hero, there is one thing I would desperately change about this show and that is Dawn Summers.  Don’t get me wrong, I loved her whole key arc in season 5 but, in season 6, I just wanted to strangle her.  She complains constantly about how Buffy doesn’t spend enough time with her because she has to work at a crappy job to support her.  Which, if Dawn hadn’t purposely flunked her classes, Buffy wouldn’t have had to quit college and get anyway.  Dawn regularly does stupid stuff, such as accidentally inviting a vampire in the house, and we’re supposed to side with her because “she’s just a kid.”  Other than being the Key, this girl contributes nothing to the show.  They should have just killed her off in season 5 instead of introducing that stupid plot hole just to keep her.

Every Single Character in the Big Bang Theory: That’s right, I hate them all.  Sheldon for being a whiny spoiled brat, Leonard for being an entitled “nice guy,” Howard for being a perverted manchild (the latter staying even when he married Bernadette), Raj for being a whiny douchebag, Penny for acting like an entitled alpha bitch who mocks the guys’ interests even though they’re scientists and she’s a waitress, Bernadette for being an evil bitch to the point of making Howard give up his Tardis (I’m never forgiving her for that), and Amy for being every bit as evil and manipulative as Sheldon, even though she’s supposed to be the one that suffers.  That’s right, everyone in this show has done something that makes me want to throw my shoe at the TV and my mom and I continued watching it just for the sake of completing it.  Don’t get me wrong, I watch many sitcoms where the characters are insufferable douchebags, such as Seinfeld, but the difference is that the writers embraced the douchebags and rolled with it.  Not try to make us sympathize and say that they’re good people deep down, which they’re not.

Ahmed (Thief of Baghdad): Okay, I did like his storyline in the beginning about how he learned not to trust his Grand Vizier Jaffar (the one Jafar was based off of) and how he went out into the world but, after that, everything interesting about him goes out the window.  Throughout the movie, all he does is whine about his nameless princess and how he can’t live without this girl he knew for all of five minutes and who he met by breaking into her garden.  The first time I watched the movie, my thoughts were “My God, shut up about your stupid princess already.”  Is it any wonder that, when the movie was out, so many women wrote to Conrad Veidt saying that they would’ve chosen Jaffar over Ahmed any day?

Jack and Kate (Lost): That’s right, I gave Jack and Kate an equal spot.  I’ll admit, Jack got cool at the end when he was all about the island but it doesn’t make up for seasons of bad writing we had to sit through about how everything on the island doesn’t make sense.  Jack, you live on an island with a giant smoke monster and you saw your father’s ghost.  The laws of reality are being severely challenged for you.  Also, you had no proof that not pushing the button wasn’t going to blow up the island and you were willing to risk everyone on said island just to prove that you were right.  Not to mention all the pointless flashbacks I had to endure starring you, such as that stupid flashback about the tattoos.  It couldn’t have been something he did in medical school when he was drunk, it has to have some super special significance.  Kate, on the other hand, started out cool but quickly became disappointing.  You had a hardcore criminal on the show and her major plot was her stupid love triangle between Jack and Sawyer.  Her reason for killing her stepfather (actually her real father) wasn’t because he was abusing her but because he was part of her.  Seriously, what the fuck?  She forces herself into the final climax by shooting the smoke monster, even though she had no personal conflict with him, and she wanted to get off the island, despite being a wanted criminal.  I know some people have to want to leave the island, but you have to give them a legitimate reason.  Wouldn’t it be more interesting if Jack wanted to leave and Kate wanted to stay, giving them a conflict that didn’t have to do with the love triangle?

Wesley Crusher (Star Trek: The Next Generation): The very character who started the trope Creator’s Pet, which used to be called The Wesley.  He was the irritating boy genius that was smarter than everyone, even the super smart robot.  Wesley played around in Engineering on duty, seeing how he could boost the sensors.  When Data asked how I was asking why.  He’s forced into the plot just to prove how smart he is, one time being given command of an entire project filled with older and far more experienced officers.  He’s the only one who figured out that Data was Lore, even though it was super obvious to the point that a 5 year old could’ve figured it out, but everyone else was taking their stupid pills so that Wesley can look smart by comparison.  Even Will Wheaton himself admitted to hating the character of Wesley Crusher.  This is how NOT to write a boy genius while Peter Parker from the MCU is a great example of how to do Wesley Crusher right.

Neelix (Star Trek: Voyager): Words cannot describe how much I hate this stupid alien.  He was supposed to be the breakout character of Voyager, a combination of Odo and Quark, and he came off more like Michael Scott on a starship.  When he wasn’t incessantly bugging Tuvok, who made it very clear that he wants to be left alone, he was making adjustments to recipes no one asked him to make adjustments to.  Neelix also forces himself into situations where he’s not wanted or needed, such as insisting that he be part of the security team.  Not to mention his possessive jealousy over Kes makes Ross Geller look like a supportive boyfriend.

Connor (Angel): Meet the son of Angel and Darla that nobody wanted.  He’s an unlikable bigot who tried to kill Angel and, even though he was misled, wouldn’t even consider that he was wrong.  Then there was that whole Jasmine arc where he knew all along that Jasmine was evil, but went along with it anyway.  At no point does he try to help Fred, who’s been there for him and cared for him, and he screws over not only the Angel crew, but everyone on Earth because he went along with a lie.  Supposedly it was because it was “the best lie he’s ever heard,” but if that’s supposed to make me feel sympathy for him, you’re barking up the wrong tree.  He got less annoying once Angel rewrote his memory.

Lana Lang (Smallville): I have saved the best, or worst, for last.  Meet Lana Lang, Clark’s love interest who’s so amazing and strong, even though we never see evidence of either of that.  All she does is get captured, have various stalkers declare their undying love for her, mope about her dead parents, who died before she could even remember them and was raised by a loving aunt and makes Clark mope about how he can’t be with her.  She’s supposedly running the Talon (the coffee shop), even though she’s in high school and has no business training whatsoever.  So many men declared their undying love for Lana Lang, it was ridiculous.  This small town nobody had more stalkers than Lex Luthor, and he was the heir of a wealthy entrepreneur.  Later on, she gets tougher by learning martial arts in the span of one day and ends the show by getting navy seal training.  Then we have to have this whole sad scene about how she and Clark can’t be together because she sucked up kryptonite inside of her.  Though, when they were together, she wasn’t really a great girlfriend considering that, when Bizarro replaced Clark, she had to be told by Chloe that her boyfriend’s an imposter.  When Lana leaves the show for good, you’d think we’d get a break from it but no, we have to hear over and over about how amazing Lana is and how no one can ever dream of matching up to her perfection.  Every time people talk about what an unbelievable Mary Sue Michael Burnham from Star Trek: Discovery is, I want to show them Lana Lang.

[reciprocityfic]

Aww I want them all! But okay, let's start with 1. A conversation you wish had happened in canon. For AmyxLaurie

1. a conversation you wish had happened in canon.

“I’m not marrying Fred.”

She tries to say it nonchalantly, void of emotion so as to not reveal the anxiety churning in her gut, but she’s afraid that the slight tremble in her voice betrays her. She tries to take a breath to ground herself, but the air that leaves her lungs comes out unsteadily.

She waits for him to answer - to say something, but he doesn’t respond right away. She wonders if he’s finding out for the first time. She meant to write him after she turned down the proposal, but hadn’t yet; everything seemed to be happening so fast, and she hadn’t yet had the chance to gather up the nerve.

But it’s possible he found out still, she supposes. She heard Fred left for London soon after she turned him down, and he and Laurie run in the same social circle, the kind that thrives on any piece of gossip. Someone could’ve very well told him.

But he keeps his mouth shut, and even though she knows it’s only been a few moments since she spoke, his silence seems to stretch on and on. It allows enough time for her thoughts to swirl around in her brain, for her heart to twist itself into knots.

Maybe he’s changed his mind. Maybe time away from you cleared his head, made him realize that you were simply a substitute for Jo.

She feels the need to clarify suddenly; she doesn’t want to force him into anything, make him do something he’ll regret just to spare her feelings.

“I heard about that,” he says carefully, and she hears him somewhere in the back of her mind. But she’s already turned towards him, words pushing at her lips.

“And you are under no obligation to say anything, or do anything,” she assures him, trying to insert some sort of confidence behind her words, but she can’t quite muster it as she stares at her feet.

She takes another deep breath, exhaling audibly. She can’t do this without being honest, she realizes, without laying her heart bare to him. She suddenly thinks of how hard it must have been for him, to propose to Jo, to reveal his affection for her in the garden those weeks ago.

“I just didn’t love him as I should.”

Not as I love you, she almost tells him, but she bites her tongue. She’s trying, but she’s not quite brave enough to say it plainly like that. Not now, when everything is still so uncertain.

Again, he doesn’t say anything, and oh, he has changed his mind, hasn’t he? Surely he would’ve interrupted her by now if he still wanted her, given her some sort of response. She can feel his eyes on her even though she continues to look away from him. He’s probably trying to figure out a way to tell her no, she decides, and scrambles to save face, letting out another breath.

“So we don’t need to talk about it, we don’t need to say anything -”

He kisses her.

He kisses her, hard, and she can’t process it for a moment. She feels his mouth against hers, his hand cradling her face, the warmth of his body against her own, but she can’t put it all together. Can’t comprehend what’s happening to her.

But then, oh, he sucks her bottom lip into his mouth, moves his head upward slightly and tugs on it, and she’s aware of everything - the press of his nose against hers, each of his fingers against her cheek, burning their pattern into her skin. He’s everywhere, all over her, and she softens, melts into him as she kisses him back.

His free arm wraps around her waist, pulls her more closely against him, lifting her onto her tiptoes as she searches for his mouth. She wishes they could stay in this moment forever. That she could live here, wrapped in his arms, warm from head to toe as his lips move in time with hers. But that’s not practical, she supposes, and after a few moments more they separate, both of them out of breath in the most wonderful way.

“Amy,” he murmurs.

Her eyes are closed, but the corners of her lips turn up when she hears him say her name.

“Amy,” he beckons again, and she opens her eyes, finds him staring back at her with an expression so tender and loving that tears well in her eyes. “Are you listening?”

She nods, and he crouches down just slightly, so he can look more directly into her eyes.

“I love you,” he tells her. “You have to know that. You must know that I love you. With my entire heart and soul, I love you.”

“You do?” she asks, her breath catching in her throat. A part of her still can’t believe it, despite his proposal and the kiss they just shared. The part of her that had resigned itself to only being able to love him from afar, that had become so used to him always looking at Jo whenever she was looking at him.

“Yes,” he says, a breathless laugh leaving him as the arm around her waist tightens and his other arm moves from her face to circle her shoulders as he pulls her into a firm hug. “Yes. I love everything about you - your laugh and your eyes, your voice. The way your brow furrows and lips purse when you paint or sketch, and then the way you step back and smile when you’ve done something you think is good. How your eyes light up when you look at the art in museums. I love how much you love your family. I love the woman you’ve become, but I also love how I can still see that same Amy I’ve always known peek out sometimes, especially when you’re happy or excited.”

She presses her face into the crook of his neck, inhales him, and can’t help the tears that spill over as she listens to him speak.

“I love the way you inspire me and make me want to be more, for both myself and for others. I love spending time with you - just being beside you is the greatest pleasure I’ve ever known. I love you, Amy March, your heart and your spirit and your mind and your soul. Everything you are, everything that you’ve become and will become. I love you.”

He lets her go and takes a small step back, grabs one of her hands in his and uses the other to wipe away the dampness that’s collected on her face.

“I love you, too” she whispers to him, turning into his palm and speaking into his skin.

“You’re not...you’re not a replacement for Jo,” he declares ardently, holding her gaze. “And you’re not second - not when it comes to me. Not to anything or anyone, but especially not to her. I’ve loved Jo - I’ll always love Jo - but what I felt for her is not the same as this. This is better, and it’s stronger, and it’s more - so much more. And I never want it to end. I want to spend the rest of my life with it.”

He closes the space between them once again, kisses her forehead and then her cheek.

“Amy,” he says, and then he bends down, gets on one knee in the green grass at her feet. He takes both of her hands.

“I know so, so much has happened, and there’s been so much pain and heartbreak, but nothing would make me happier than knowing that I get to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. And I don’t have any kind of plan or a ring, but I do have myself and my heart and my love, and I’m willing to give them all to you, if you’ll have them. They’re already yours. So, Amy March - Amy Curtis March - will you marry me?”

And it’s the easiest decision she’s ever made. She can’t keep the smile off her face, and he smiles back at her when he realizes - the most brilliant smile she’s ever seen on him. He’s so beautiful that she could cry again, if she let herself.

He stands up at the same time that she reaches down and pulls at him. She kisses him first this time, and his hands wander over her body, moving across her shoulders and down her back before looping back up. He curls his palm around the back of her neck, buries the other one in her neatly pinned-up hair. They separate when they need to breathe, but they don’t go far, their mouths still resting together, smiles turning up their lips.

And she whispers against him, “Yes.”

send me a number and a pairing (preferably laurie x amy) and i'll write you a mini fic!