#‘If you slam the laptop too hard it might break the screen’ <- real criticism i saw. YEAH NO SHIT?

[modifiedyincision]

i think I’ll snag an acer nitro v since it’s on sale and I’m seeing good things about it. Would like a desktop tho but I’m poor.

A lot of the reviews for the laptops r so useless though lol. I’m sorry but i don’t care if the screen isnt 4k hd or if it can’t run a game at 120fps. Stop being a baby lol.

[headfulloffantasies]

Lost in Translation

Sam needed a translator for Bucky. It was physically painful to hear him mix modern and outdated slang.  AO3

Sam needed a translator for Bucky. It wasn’t his fault. Hydra always wanted the Asset to fit in, meaning they stuffed his head full of the latest slang every time they pulled him out of cryofreeze. All those phrases were still stuck in his brainpan, manifesting in his speech in bizarre ways.

“Hey man, can I borrow five bucks? I’m fresh outta lettuce.”

Sam had not seen Steve react so violently to something Bucky had said since the last time he told Steve not to jump in the river. Steve’s head spun around like a poltergeist to glare at Bucky.

“What did you say to me?”

“I’m broke?”

Steve vaulted over the couch to hug Bucky hard. Sam was very confused. 

“I haven’t heard anyone say that in seventy years,” Steve sobbed.

“Me too pal,” Bucky frowned. “Don’t know why you gotta have a cow over it.”

“You promised me dinner if I came over tonight,” Sam interrupted the love fest. He got up from the couch and meandered into the kitchen. “What are we having?” 

Sam opened the fridge. There was broccoli, peanut butter, soy sauce, and three apples inside. Clearly it had been Bucky’s turn to shop this week. When Bucky shopped, he wandered the aisles and threw things that looked “interesting” into the cart. There weren’t a lot of recipes that could be made from interesting. 

“How about Bastard Pad Thai?” Bucky suggested. “We got gobs of chicken in the deep freeze.”

Steve groaned from his spot in Bucky’s arms.

Bastard Pad Thai was a homemade recipe with spaghetti noodles, no fish sauce, and broccoli instead of bean sprouts. Bucky claimed it had saved him from starvation once in Siberia. Steve said he’d only eat it if he was on the verge of starvation. 

Bastard Pad Thai won, despite Steve’s complaint. He pouted on the couch. 

“You’re cruising for a bruising,” Bucky threatened him with the sauce spoon. Steve hunkered down further into the couch.

Sam chopped up the broccoli and Bucky stirred the sauce on the stove. It was a comfortable, warm atmosphere of bumping into each other and reaching across for utensils. 

“Am i supposed to put the armoured heifer in the sauce?” Bucky asked, holding up a can of milk. Sam had to take five to wheeze into the pantry.

Steve did penance for his behaviour by doing the dishes. Sam opened his laptop on the coffee table. Bucky crashed onto the couch next to him, crushing Sam with his flesh shoulder. “Whatcha up to, fresher?”

Sam flinched. “Here, read this.” He shoved the computer at Bucky. Bucky leaned forward and read aloud. “Acceptable slang for adults,” he glanced up, eyebrows drawn down. “You don’t like the cut of my jib?”

“That’s not even from an era you’ve lived in,” Sam complained. 

Bucky shrugged. “I heard it in a movie.” He closed the laptop. “I’m not taking criticism from someone who doesn’t know what a   is.”

“Only geriatrics know about   !” 

Bucky shrugged. “Sounds like a you problem.”

Sam ground his teeth and accepted defeat.

The next day they got a call for someone to please go stop Mysterio from blowing up Grand Central Station please. 

Mysterio was standing in the middle of the street on a floating platform, pontificating, when they arrived. 

“In mere moments I will activate my death ray!” Mysterio screamed.

Steve gave the orders, “I’ll go around behind him, get the drop on him. You two keep him occupied, and take out as many henchmen as possible.”

They broke like a football huddle. Steve vanished into the fray.

Sam and Bucky split onto opposite sides of the street, using parked and abandoned cars as cover as they fought their way through the army Mysterio had brought with him.

Sam was gaining on Mysterio’s platform, but it was disorienting when half the henchmen weren’t actually there. Mysterio was the worst. Illusions were cheating, man. Sam almost broke his hand punching a dude who turned out to be smoke and instead hitting the brick wall behind the illusion.

“You got a bunny following you, Sam,” Bucky announced over the comms. “Could be nothin’ but she might ask you to jive.”

Bunny? They were in New York. What was a rabbit doing in the city?

A woman in all green plowed into Sam from behind. 

Bucky swore in Sam’s ear. “I told you to watch her, Sam!”

Oh, so the femme fatale was a bunny? More like a viper, the way she was trying to strangle Sam. 

“Kneel before Madame Hydra!” She screamed. 

No thanks, lady. Sam kneed her in the chest. 

Bucky was suddenly there, pulling the lady off and tossing her aside. He gave Sam a hand up. 

“This isn’t working.” They were just as far from Mysterio as they had been when they started. 

“Just keep going,” Bucky said. “Keep his attention away from Steve.”

Right. Sure. Distract the evil mastermind. If only there was a way to do that that didn’t include being tackled on all sides by guards in tactical gear. Sam wished he had a way to tell which ones were actually worth a punch.

Finally, Mysterio was in view. He looked like a failed science experiment with his dumb fishbowl on his head. Mysterio was tapping away at a screen, likely setting up his death ray. Sam leapt into the knot of henchmen, real and fake. 

Bucky vaulted onto Sam’s left, his metal arm sparking through a holographic henchman. 

“I always feel japped when they’re not real.”

Sam grunted, planting his fist in a real gut. The space between them and Mysterio seemed endless. “We’re not going to make it through this mess in time. Where’s Steve?”

“Hey Mysterio!” Bucky yelled. The villain didn’t turn around. “What’s with the fishbowl, man? Is your face all grody under there? Or is it a fetish thing?”

Distraction. Sam caught on quickly. “Nah, Buck, he’s a space alien freak. He wants to be taken to the mothership or whatever.” Sam called louder as he shoved a henchman aside. “Hate to break it to you, but they stopped doing probes decades ago. You’ll have to get your rocks off some other way.” 

Bucky slammed his metal arm into a guy and actually landed a real punch. Yay!

Mysterio’s shoulders hunched up around his ears. He kept typing away.

Bucky laughed, “Hoo boy, what a laker. Mucho wacko.” 

Sam gave him a side eye. No one gets your dated lingo, Barnes.

Bucky shrugged. It really wasn’t his fault. He tried again. “Mysterio is a scub name anyways. Bet you were a putz your whole life. Bet under that fishbowl you’re a bag face. You dumb hoser.”

Mysterio’s whole being was radiating hatred, but he kept on task. Sam had to give him chops, the guy was focused. It took two words to distract Rhino.

Sam decked another lackey, sending him crashing into a bus bench.

Bucky raced ahead, still shouting. “Why’d you pick a name like Mysterio anyways? You think you’re a magician or something? You a Doctor Strange fanboy? Now there’s someone with choice style. You’re just a wack ameteur. You couldn’t come up with a better illusion if it bit your keister.”

“Shut up!” Mysterio whipped around and blasted an energy ray from his gloves. Bucky ducked behind a parked car. The ray sailed harmlessly by, nowhere near Bucky.

“Hey man, don’t snap your cap. Betcha that wasn’t even real!” Bucky popped his head over the table. “Hey Sam, how much do you want to bet he missed on purpose ‘cause it wasn’t real? Nobody’s that rubbish a shot.”

“Shut up! Shutupshutupshutup!” Maysterio screamed as his rays blasted all over the street. Cars caught fire, glass shattered and rained down. Live lackeys scrambled for cover. Sam didn’t even need to dodge Mysterio’s awful aim. No wonder Spider-man usually took care of this guy. 

Bucky used the onslaught to his advantage, dodging rays as he darted up to Mysterio’s platform. He launched himself up, catching one of Mysterio’s wrists in a death grip. Bucky shattered Mysterio’s fishbowl with the metal arm. 

“You wanna dance?” Bucky growled in his Winter Soldier voice. “Cause I’m a jive bomber.”

“What does that mean?” Msyterio sobbed, his wide eyes too human without his helmet. 

“You don’t want to find out,” Steve stepped up from behind the villain. He kept his stance low and dangerous. “Shut down your program, now.”

It was all easy after that. SHIELD approached once the illusions vanished and took Mysterio away.

Bucky rounded on Steve as Mysterio was loaded into a van. 

“Where you been, punk?”

Steve stared into the middle distance, bewilderment painted all over his face. “There was a giant dinosaur. And then it disappeared.”

Bucky clapped him on the shoulder. “Better luck next time, my dude. Let’s boogie and get some fresh jives before we bug out. Can you dig it?”

Sam’s ears were bleeding. “How many eras are you mixing?” Steve shoved at Bucky. “You’re just doing it on purpose now.”

Bucky’s grin was all the confirmation Sam needed. “You’ve been messing with me?”

Bucky winked.

Oh, this was war.

[spn-rewrites]

01x12 (part 3)

Season One Episode Twelve: Faith

A/N: my laptop is finally fixed!! whoohoo! updates to come quicker and I promise, i’ll be more active so come talk to me, leave me nice messages or constructive criticism or just come say hello. if you liked it, REBLOG and show your friends! please! love u xoxo

Summary: where a life is saved, another is swapped and soda is never retrieved

Word Count: 3.2k

“I’m telling you, Dean! It didn’t work! Ron must not be the one controlling this thing!” You yelled into the phone as the protestor groaned on the ground in a fetal position, clearly in pain from the reaper. You saw Sam debating with himself whether or not he wanted to go help or stay back and not get in the way because what the hell was this thing.

“Well, then, who the hell is?” Dean asked in the phone, his panic not as clear as yours. You were breathing heavily, barely able to sit still and you were sweating.  “Sue Ann,” Dean said quickly and then he hung up the phone. You starred at the screen that was flashing the word END and then looked to Sam.

“He said Sue Ann,” he told him, handing him the phone back. Sam furrowed his brows at you and took it, shoving it his pocket.

“The wife?” He clarified. You nodded and he looked back down at the protestor. He was groaning still, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. “We’ve gotta help him,” he said, shaking his head and going back to the urgentness of the situation. “I’ll go find Dean, you stay here!” He ordered, his hand grazing your bicep as he tried to take off towards the church tent.

You grabbed his hand before the contact was lost, “wait,” you said. The protestor’s body loosened up, the tense muscles from before were now relaxing and his eyes had stopped rolling in the back. “I think he might be stopping,” you whispered. He was coughing and letting out gasps, trying to catch his breath as a tear rolled down his cheek. He could barely get up he was so weak.

Sam kneeled down next to him and grabbed his hand, helping him stand up. The man was so unstable, he leaned into Sam’s body, almost making Sam himself fall over. “I got ya,” he whispered as he steadied the man. Thankfully, you were protected by a bunch of cars so none of the church-goers saw the scene that had unfolded but now that the Reaper was gone, you had ventured out and saw Dean in the arms of police officers. You heard Sam mumbling to the guy, a thank you is given and then Sam showed up at your side alone.

“Sam,” you mumbled urgently, nodding towards Dean and Sue Ann. He looked at Dean, his hands being held behind his back by the officers and Sue Ann, standing in front of him. You couldn’t see her face, but Dean’s was hard and stern. His arms dropped to his side and he shook them out.

“Let's go wait at the car, it looks like she’s letting him go.” Sam grabbed your hand and he took you to the Impala to wait for Dean. All the people that were once inside the church were now all huddled together talking amongst themselves. Dean was stopped one more time by Layla and you sat against the hood of the car, watching as Roy talked to Layla’s mom, promising a private session to heal her. When Dean finally showed up, he didn’t talk. He got inside the car, slammed the door shut and drove back to the hotel.

He explained the entire thing on the way to the hotel and the three of you exchanged stories about what happened but Dean’s was far more interesting and when you were back at the hotel, it was time to brainstorm what to do next.

You laid on the bed, Sam’s jacket covering your arms and torso and your toes barely touching his lower back as he sat on the edge of the bed. It was cold in the room because of how rainy and gross it was outside and you never did like hotel blankets. Dean paced back and forth, looking out the window every three seconds probably for those officers. “So Roy believes it?” Sam asked, bouncing his leg up and down.

“I don’t think he has any idea what his wife’s doing,” Dean agreed, shutting the curtains to the hotel room and turning to face the two of you. You were shocked, to say the least, to find out that it was Sue Ann the entire time.

“Oh! We found this hidden in their library,” Sam said like he almost forgot and he pulled out the weird spellbook from his pocket. The sight of it gave you chills up and down your arms. “Well, Y/N actually found it. It was like she was drawn to it or something,” Sam told his brother. Dean looked over at you curiously and you just shrugged lightly and looked away. It wasn’t something that you quite understood and you’d rather keep it to yourself. Dean sat on the second bed, right next to Sam. “It’s ancient. Written by a priest who went dark side. There’s a binding spell in here for trapping a reaper,” Sam explained, handing Dean the book.

“Must be a hell of a spell,” Dean commented, taking the book in his hands to look at the spell. It was all scribbles and pictures from what you remembered but you opted to not look at it again.

“You’ve got to build a black alter with seriously dark stuff - bones, human blood,” Sam explained just how intense this spell was and what exactly it entailed so Dean got the full picture of exactly what Sue Ann had done to gain this power. Sam sighed as if he was letting all those bad images leave. “To cross a line like that, that preacher’s wife - black magic. Murder. Evil.”

“Desperate,” Dean said, cutting off his brother. “Her husband was dying. She’d done anything to save him,” he explained, almost trying to justify her actions but you thought that Dean would relate to that more than anyone. “She was using the spell to keep the reaper away from Roy.”

“Cheating death,” you mumbled. The boys looked at you, a small smirk on Sam’s face.

“Literally,” he scoffed.

“But Roy is alive, so why is she still using the spell?” Dean asked, bringing you back to the real topic on hand. The real question. She just wanted power was your guess but you let the boys talk it out among themselves.

“To force the reaper to kill people she feels are immoral,” Sam answered. It seemed so far fetched. But then again, when people get an inch they take a mile and maybe she was desperate like Dean said or maybe she wanted to play God so badly that she was willing to dig up dead bones.

“We’ve got to break that binding spell,” you said. That was the only option. You couldn’t let people keep dying no matter how justified she might have been in the first place. There was no reason for it now. You almost felt your own sense of guilt for wanting it to end. You got what you wanted and now it was game over. You wondered if you’d let Roy heal Dean if you knew beforehand.

“You know, Sue Ann had a Coptic cross just like this. When she dropped it, the reaper backed off.” Dean’s finger pointed and then traced the photo of the cross in the book. You had never seen her wear it but it was the same cross they had mounted in the church.

“So you think we’ve got to destroy the cross or the altar?” You asked, sitting up now. The jacket fell around your waist but you picked it back up. You wanted Sam’s smell to completely engulf you for as long as you could have it for.

“Maybe both,” Dean said. The boys exchanged a look that you didn’t quite catch but they were silent and then Dean snapped the book shut and stood up. “Whatever we’re doing, we gotta do it soon. You heard Roy, he’s healing Layla tonight.”

+

There were cars parked outside of the church just like a regular sermon but it was dark outside and it wasn’t a regular sermon and Layla wouldn’t be healed. “Layla’s already here,” Dean said, turning off the Impala and leaning back in his seat. “There’s her car,” he nodded towards one of the cars parked and you wondered how he knew that but you let it slide.

“Yeah,” you breathed, nodding. You pulled yourself up so your head was between the boys and Dean glanced back at you and it was like you knew exactly what he was going to say. “Dean,” you warned but he didn’t care.

“You know if Roy would have picked Layla instead of me, she’d been healed by now,” he said, looking at his steering wheel and not at you or Sam. He tapped his finger on the bottom of the wheel like a nervous tick.

“Yeah, that is how that works,” you said, trying to make a joke out of it when it really wasn’t funny but the tension was too thick. The joke didn’t land which you expected and Dean just kept going.

“And if she’s not healed tonight, she’s gonna die in a couple months,” he continued, not listening or caring about your joke.

“Listen, what’s happening to her is horrible but what are you gonna do? Let someone die in order to save her?” Sam asked, trying to knock reason into Dean’s head. He was hesitating in hopes that he would be too late but he would never admit that nor make it obvious. It was to you and Sam. “You said it yourself Dean, you can’t play God.”

There was no answer as Dean got out of the car and you and Sam quickly followed and up to the tent. There was a faint light coming from it and you peeked your head inside, Layla was standing at the altar with Roy and everyone was smiling wide, excited for her. “Where’s Sue Ann?” You asked.

“The house,” Sam suggested and nodded towards the house you already broke into once and you all started towards it to end this as quickly as possible.

“You go find Sue Ann, I’ll catch up,” Dean said, starting to go off in a different direction. You started to ask where he was going but your eyes followed his to the officers that had previously had him all tied up and there Dean was, self-destructing. “Hey! You gonna put the fear of God in me?” He asked, holding his arms open. The officers took off after Dean and he took off running away from them. Making a clear distracting for you and Sam but your heart skipped a beat in worry for him.

You bottled it up as you and Sam snuck up to the porch, looking for an entrance. You checked the window you had used earlier that day, hoping that maybe you could see her but all the lights in the house were off. “Where is she?” He asked, turning himself in all directions.

You looked around the yard, your hands on the porch rail when a strip of light caught your eye. “There.” You pointed below you to the cellar doors, where light illuminated the small crack. Sam smiled at you for your sharp eye and you ran down the porch steps to the door and Sam pried them open. He let you go down first and then he followed, closing them behind him. It was easier than you had expected to get into and you’d think that if she was doing an evil spell she would protect herself a little bit more.

The room was quiet and dark and there was no sign of her or anything anywhere but when you rounded a corner, an altar was displayed with human blood staining the old wooden dresser it was on and eyeballs, like they had been ripped from a skull on display and a photo. Of Dean. Sam picked it up, a bloody X over his brother’s face. “No,” you breathed, shaking your head. In all honesty, it was more gruesome than you’d imagined.

“I gave your brother life and I can take it away,” Sue Ann said from behind you. The two of you whipped around to see her unfazed and unembarrassedd by what you found. Like she was proud of what she was doing. Like she had a gift. Like she was powerful. Sam threw the photo on the ground, smashing the glass and he tipped over the entire alter, candles going out and the wooden stakes being broken.

“Go,” he yelled to you and you ran to the exit and after Sue Ann, who took off as soon as the table was lifted from the ground but you were too late and she shut the cellar doors with you two in it.

“Can’t you see? The Lord chose me! To reward the just and punish the wicked,” she yelled from outside the cellar. Sam and you pushed against it as hard as you could but it wasn’t budging. “And your brother is wicked and he deserves to die, just as Layla deserves to live,” she said.

“I swear to god I’ll kill this bitch!” You said through gritted teeth as you slammed your body as hard as you could against the doors but it was really no use and you knew that.

“Ok, here,” Sam whispered as he stopped pushing, taking your hand and running across the basement cellar. “There’s gotta be a soft spot in here somewhere.” He took a broken piece of wood off the ground and started to bang against the wood walls that kept the whole thing together until he hit the soft spot he was talking about and the wooden wall busted open, revealing light.

“Go,” he mumbled, pushing you out first and following closely behind you. You snuck your way around the cars, checking behind all of them for Sue Ann until you found her, standing outside the church. “You wanna?” Sam asked, smirking at you. You run up behind her, Sam following closely and snatched the cross out of her hands, smashing it on the ground. It shattered, blood spraying the rocks that it landed on.

Sue Ann gasped, dropping to her knees with shaking hands. She wanted to pick it up and put it back together again. “What have you done?” She cried, breathing heavily.

“He’s not your God,” Sam spat at her. Sue Ann stood up and at the edge of the property, way in the distance, you saw him for the first time. The Reaper. He was old, wrinkly. Pale white with a suit on. Just as Dean described him. Sue Ann tried to run but the reaper was faster and he put his hand on her head and within seconds, as you watch, she was on the ground and lifeless.

You walked away, leaving her body there and part of you felt the guilt for her death but then you reminded yourself that this what the only option and so you kept going to the Impala. You saw Dean first, leaning against the Impala and groaning in pain but you didn’t care as you ran up to him and hugged him. He groaned at the impact but hugged you back and chuckled a little bit. “You okay?” Sam asked. You pulled away and Dean opened the door to the car.

“Hell of a week,” Dean commented and you all three agreed as you got into the car and drove back to the hotel in silence. You knew Dean was doubting himself. You knew that he would probably would have let himself die if that meant Layla could live just because of how guilty he felt for being alive.

“We did the right thing, right?” He asked you as you packed up your things. Sam was in the bathroom so he was being quiet and you stopped folding your shirt and looked over at him.

“Of course we did,” you reassued him.

“Didn’t feel like it,” he admitted, twirling the shirt in his hands around. There was a knock on the door and you turned around to get it but Sam bolted out of the bathroom, the door hitting the wall and offering to grab it. It was like he was waiting for it.

“I got it, got it, got it,” he mumbled, out of breath by the time his hand hit the knob.

When he opened the door, Layla stepped inside and Dean’s face lit up and you hadn’t seem them interact that close to you before but now that you had you realized that it wasn’t really about the guilt. It was just about her. “How did you know we were here?” Dean asked.

“Sam called,” she said, smiling and nodded towards Sam. You looked at your own boy, a smug smile on his face as he winked at you. “He said you wanted to say goodbye,” she said.

“We’re gonna go get a soda!” Sam announced, grabbing your hand quickly and pulling you out of the hotel room and letting the door swing shut behind him. Once it was closed to looked at him and crossed your arms over your chest.

“You’re such a sneak, you know that, right?” You asked as you shook your head. Sam laughed and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, spinning you around and pulling you into his side.

“He would have beat himself up for a long time if he didn’t say goodbye,” Sam said as you walked down the hallway of the hotel. You knew he was right and sometimes, because of how long you went without him, you forgot that Sam knew Dean just as well as you did. Maybe even better than you did. You walked a few feet in silence, just enjoying the way he smelled and how his hand was rubbing your shoulder slightly and the way his hip hit yours. “Y/N?” Sam spun you around so you were in front of him, face to face.

“Yes?” You asked. He entwined his fingers in yours, looking down at them and then up at you. His eyes were soft and nervous.

“Do you want to talk about how you knew that book was there? In the house?” He asked. You didn’t really but you thought you should. At least to Sam. You let out a sigh and shrugged your shoulders, holding his hand close to your chest.

“There’s not much to say. I don’t know what it was. Just a feeling that washed over me,” you tried to explain. Sam nodded and he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You hugged him back and buried your head in his chest. “I’m happy with you.”

“I’m happy with you, too,” he responded, pulling back. He was towering over you but he beant his head down and it was almost as close as it was in that hotel room bed and you felt his breathing tickling your lips.

“Can you kiss me now?” You asked, a small smile on your lips. You didn’t want to get your hopes up but your heart fluttered at his smile and his laugh made your blood warm and he nodded and kissed you for the first time, his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips warm and chapped against yours.

It felt exactly how you thought that it would feel. Like it was meant to me and perfect and your lips and hands and bodies were made for each other.

tagged:  @matchamendes @stuckupstucky @sillydecoy @kaelyn-lobrutto24@liztorr1212 @icanreadbookstoo  @rachael-mae @jessewa26

[bkdksecretsanta]

untitled

Gift fic for Tokiji aka Irakirih on IG from @katsuyamii

A message from the Santa:

it's been fun chatting with you in the low lights fireflies chat, i actually thought it was pretty funny that i got you when we're both in that server! much love from mod kenny, hope you enjoyed the fic!

Izuku let out a yelp as he watched pro hero Ground Zero fall to the ground from his television. Soon after, the cameras were all trained on Shouto and Chargebolt, no longer paying any attention to Izuku’s husband. He began to panic, trying to call anyone who might be at the scene. Of course, no one answered, and that only made him feel nauseous.

    He scurried to the kitchen, grabbing his phone. He hurried back to the couch and scrolled through the hero websites he frequented. Katsuki was fine, Izuku knew that. Katsuki was strong, and he wasn’t going to die. It was just a hard push to the brick wall and some debris falling on him. Katsuki would be fine.

    Izuku sighed, staring at the screen until the news station changed. He waited up for Katsuki, really trying hard to keep calm. He knew the other would be okay, but he couldn’t help but worry. Katsuki was normally home just an hour after his shift ended, but he still wasn’t back, and it was late, so Izuku eventually nodded off.

    He awoke a bit later when the door opened. He bolted upright and looked at the door. Katsuki was grumbling a bit to himself, the lights still out.

    “Kacchan?”     “Hm?” He grunted, turning toward him. “Close your eyes.”

    “What?” Izuku frowned, but did as he was told.

    He heard Katsuki flick the lights on, then blinked his eyes open after.

    “Thanks.”     Katsuki shrugged. “Why the fuck are you still awake?” He asked, moving in closer, hands tucked into the pockets of his old gray sweatpants.

    “I was worried about you.” Izuku mumbled, looking up at him from under his cocoon of blankets, blushing a little.

    “You were...worried?” Katsuki glanced away.

    “Yeah!” He huffed. “I was watching the fight on TV, I was scared you were really hurt.”

    “It wasn’t that bad.” He rolled his eyes.

    “Then let me see.” Izuku looked at him.

    Katsuki faltered for a moment. “What? No, Deku, I told you, I’m fine.”

    “I don’t know if I believe you…” He mumbled.

    “Whatever. I’m gonna go shower, will you join me?” He asked.

    Izuku nodded and stood up. He shrugged out of his blankets, looking over to his husband. He smiled and followed after him. When he got to the bathroom, the water was already on and being warmed up, and Katsuki was already in his underwear. Now that Izuku was behind Katsuki, he could see what was going on.

    Katsuki’s back was torn up, especially around his shoulders. It was mostly scratches that Izuku could only imagine was from being slammed into the building, or the debris that fell on him. However, there were some bigger scratches and deeper cuts along his arms and a large bruise on the side of his neck.

    Izuku frowned, stepping in closer to Katsuki. “Let’s get in the shower.” He mumbled, his voice soft.

    “Yeah. I don’t fucking like you breathing down my neck like that, you know that, Deku.” Katsuki looked at him.

    “I’m sorry.” Izuku nodded.

    He remembered how sensitive Katsuki was now about people being behind him and touching his neck. It started back in high school, when Katsuki had been kidnapped by the League of Villains. Dabi had grabbed the back of his neck, and since then, Katsuki rarely wore shirts with a collar, and Izuku was careful never to touch the back of his neck.

    Once they were in the shower, Katsuki surprised Izuku by wrapping his arms around him tightly. Izuku blushed up, hugging him back, careful not to hurt him, knowing his back was sensitive from all the injuries he just had. They stood like that, just holding each other under the dim bathroom lighting, warm water rushing down their skin. Izuku leaned into him, sighing. It wasn’t often that they shared soft and tender moments like this, but Izuku craved this kind of intimacy. He loved it more than anything. He wanted to hold and hug him until he wasn’t sure where he ended and Katsuki began. Moments like these were what made Izuku certain that marrying Katsuki was the best decision of his life.

    “I love you.” Izuku said after a moment, pulling back just enough to look at him.

    Katsuki smirked, though his eyes were soft still. “I know you do.” He chuckled.

    “Hey.” He pouted teasingly, pulling away to playfully push him. “Say it back.”

    “Oh?” Katsuki leaned in closer to him. “Make me.”

    Izuku blushed up, then closed the space between them to kiss him softly. He melted into him, but it was a sweet and chaste kiss.

    Katsuki leaned back, smirking. “I love you too, Deku.”

    After their shower, they moved to the living room, and Katsuki sat on the couch, wrapped up in a video call on his laptop with Denki, Hanta, Mina, and Eijirou. Izuku loved how close they were, and the others had offered to distract him while Izuku cleaned his cuts and bruises. Izuku slipped down behind him on the couch, but not too close.

    “I’m gonna start now, okay?” He set his hand on Katsuki’s arm, sliding it toward his back so he wouldn’t shock him with the sudden touch.

    “Alright.” Katsuki nodded.

    Izuku began to clean up the scratches along his shoulder, where it was the worst. He carefully dabbed at the wounds with some cleanser. When Katsuki hissed, Izuku frowned, patting his side gently in assurance.

    “I’m sorry, I know it stings, but-”

    “I’m not a fuckin’ child, Deku.” Katsuki huffed out. “I know it hurts, I can take the pain.”

    Izuku sighed. “Sorry, Kacchan. I was just…trying to make you feel better.”

    “Thanks.”

    It was spoken sarcastically, but Izuku felt a little better. He could usually see through Katsuki’s sarcasm or his teasing words now, and he knew that meant a lot for their relationship. Izuku was terrible with criticism, but now that he knew Katsuki was mostly teasing him, he felt a lot better about it.

    At the beginning of their third year at UA, Katsuki had broken down in Izuku’s room, telling him everything - how he felt, how scared he was that he felt it, and how he didn’t expect to be forgiven for anything. Of course, it took time, but Izuku did forgive him. From there, they became friendly, and, over the winter break, they had shared a few kisses in Katsuki’s dorm room, and it escalated from their into a real relationship.

    Izuku thought that their first kiss would be the happiest moment of his life, but, at their graduation, only months after they got together, Katsuki got down on one knee and asked Izuku to be with him forever. It was a little too fast, too sudden, but Izuku agreed, only to discuss it with him later. They decided that it was important in case something happened to one of them in battle, so the other would be the beneficiary. It was a little morbid for marriage talk, but Izuku knew, going into hero work, it was very likely that one of them might get injured, or worse.

    “Deku?”

    Izuku blinked. “Hmm?”

    “You okay?” He mumbled. “You haven’t said anything in a while.”

    “Oh, sorry…” He blushed up. “I was just thinking about us.”

    Katsuki chuckled. “Of course. Can’t stop thinking about me, can you?” He turned to face him, a little smirk playing on his face.

    Izuku huffed, pushing him a little. “Shut up!” He giggled a little.     Katsuki grinned. “Alright, I’m going to go put a real shirt on to cover up the bandages and scratches, and I’ll be right back. Don’t fuckin’ move.” He pressed a kiss to his forehead.

    Izuku nodded. “Of course.” He wrapped the blanket around himself and smiled, giddy and giggly about how in love he was.

    After a moment, Katsuki returned in a loose long sleeve shirt. He settled down on the couch, pulling Izuku in closer. Izuku blushed up, looking at his husband.

    “You’re awfully cuddly tonight, Kacchan.”

    “Whatever.” Katsuki huffed. “I just...want to hold you.”

    “Sure.” He nodded. “That’s fine, I like that. You’re nice and warm and hey!” He yelped when Katsuki pinched his sides.

    He pouted and huffed.

    Katsuki grinned. “Come on, you know I hate sappy shit. Just let me hold you.”

    Izuku chuckled, wrapping his arms around him, settling his head against Katsuki’s chest. He didn’t know how long they were holding each other before Katsuki started to snore lightly, making Izuku giggle. Eventually, Izuku too fell asleep, warm and comfortable in the arms of his lover.

[mellicose]

That Woman Over There - Chapter 25

A You Me and Him Fix-it Fic

Rating: Teen, for mild sexuality 

Word count: 7022

Warnings: none

Summary: ~ Set after the birth of Monty, Olivia’s baby ~ A dear friend of Olivia comes to visit for a week, and she disturbs the fragile peace between her, Alex, and John.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 |

This is it. The second to last chapter. On the page, the dust has settled and destinies are set in motion. And in reality is me, in messy hair and pajamas, sobbing in front of my laptop screen at how happy I am for these characters. I cried at their pain, and now my heart soars with their happiness. Is it something that happens with other other writers? I hope it isn’t just me. 

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. “Hey you. I’m surprised you’re still up.” She walked around the sofa and sat on his lap. The tv set off weird shadows in his living room.

“How’s Olivia?” He pulled her closer.

“Fine,” she said. “Cried for bit more, but honestly, she’s a fucking trooper. I didn’t do nearly so well early on.”

He caressed her cheek. “Me neither. I spent three days in my shop, crying and not being able to get anything done. Crying and woodworking don’t mix though – moisture makes the wood swell.”

“You can be funny about it now.” She covered his face in kisses. “I think I’d fall to itty bitty pieces if I saw you weep. And not because you’re a man, though. Because you’re you.”

“Or maybe because I’m a seriously ugly crier,” he said. “Even my ma says so.”

“Awww,” she said. “I didn’t know it was a thing. Who cries pretty anyway?”

“Actresses, I guess,” he said.

“Yeah, because it’s not real,” she said, and looked at the TV. “What you watching?”

“Nothing important,” he said, and turned it off before she could get a good look.

“No, you don’t,” she said, and wrested the remote back.

“We shouldn’t even be watching telly now. Time’s a-wastin’,” he said, wrapping her arms around her waist and trying to tickle it away.

“I  want to see what you were watching,” she said.

“Something manly. A car show,” he said jokingly.

“How’s that manly?” she said, giving him a quizzical look. He forgot she’s been living with lesbians for 15 years. “I saw period costumes. Do those hosts wear those?” She waggled her brows and turned on the television.

She smiled. “Pride and Prejudice. The one with Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy,” she said, nodding her head. “You’re a man of discerning taste.”

He shrugged.”I don’t like the newer adaptations. Ehle and Firth got it right,” he said.

“And it’s not on demand. You own the DVD, thank you very much,” she said, and kissed his neck.

“I’m a sucker for an underdog love story,” he said.

“Is that what it is?” she said.

“Mr. Darcy wasn’t terribly skilled with the lady,” he said. “But with patience and respect, he finally earned her love.”

“What would the mouth breathers say to you being a Jane Austen fan?”

“The mouth breathers can lick my arse,” he said. She giggled into his shoulder. He blushed and rubbed her back.

“You’re not going to get rid of that thing in your bedroom, are you?” she said, referring to the framed slogan.

“I don’t think so. I might put it up in my shop, to remind me. Not only of the bad, but the good.”

“Hail to the alpha!” she said, and reached around to pinch his butt. He slapped hers and growled, and they kissed until they were breathless.

“Take me upstairs,” he said, and slid his hand up her shirt.

“But you just started it,” she said, pointing to the tv.

“And?” he said. He kissed the swell of her breast.

“I want to quality time with you outside of bed,” she said, and scratched lightly at his lower back.

He tipped his head to look at her. Already, she made him feel like he’d wasted 13 years.  Him and Olivia spoke about the difference between lust and love. Neither of them were innocent of obsession. But this, although passionate, did not feel the same.

“Do you know that your expressions change when you’re thinking?” she said, smiling up at him. “It’s adorable. What’s on your mind?”

He rolled off and spooned her. “Things. Good things,” he said.

“I’m glad,” she said. She played with the coral beads at his wrists. “You wanna know something strange?”

“Always,” he said, and wriggled his way to comfort behind her.

“Being around you is relaxing. I know I only have hours left with you, but your warmth makes me so sleepy. Not an exhausted sleepy, just a deep relaxation feeling.”

“It might be all the sex,” he joked. She laced her fingers in his. “But seriously. Maybe it’s that you’re not anxious.”

“You’re right,” she said, taking a deep breath. Even that felt easier around him.

“You’ll find I’m right a lot,” he said.

“Wit,” she said, and stuck her tongue out at him.

“When we first met, you looked like you could break rocks with your bare hands,” he said. “Just, squeeze, and grind them to dust.”

“How’d you figured out my secret talent?”

“Wit,” he repeated, and nuzzled her. “Did you ever watch The Neverending Story?”

“Of course,” she said. “It was dubbed in Spanish, though. Watching it in the original english is still weird,” she said, and laughed. “The voices are so off.”

“You remember the Rock Biter?” he said.

“Are you calling me lumpy 50 foot rock creature?” she said, turning to him.

“No. He crushed and ate rocks.”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t be mad if you did. He had a pretty awesome motorcycle,” she said.

“I was more partial to the super speedy snail,” he said.

“It was pretty amazing,” she said, and her eyes went distant. “Are you gonna speak to Alex?” she said.

“Way to change the subject,” he said.

She turned to face him. “Are you okay?” she said. “I haven’t forgotten what happened.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve fully processed it. I don't hate her, though. Far from it.”

“But you’ll tell me if you’re not fine?” she said, searching his gaze.

“I promise,” he said, kissing her fingertips.

“Good,” she said, and turned back toward the tv. “I don’t do the strong silent type thing. You can talk to me. I don’t promise I won’t initially act in the defensive if it’s about me, but for you, I promise to push through and listen.”

He sat up. “Who even are you?” he said, shaking his head.

“What? Criticism is hard. But I’ve got to listen if it’s from someone I love. It’s important.” And she meant it. She would not become her mother.

“There you go again,” he said, and stood. She sat up.

“What?” she said.

He walked in front of the window and held out his hand. She wrapped her arms around him.

“I realized in all this time, we haven’t danced,” he said.

“We’ve done the horizontal bop enough,” she said. She snorted. “The no pants dance. The beast with two backs.”

“Wit,” he said.

“You like to dance?”

“I love to. I can’t say I’m good at it, but I do it as often as possible,” he said. He scrolled on his phone while his other arm rested around her waist.

“You saw my awesome pop and lock skills,” she said, perking up.

“Awesome, though? Hmmm,” he said and giggled his maddening high giggle.

“Pfft. I can throw down with the best of the b boys,” she said.

“Eh … I have a feeling you can’t,” he said.

She chuckled and tried to look at his phone. “So, you have any slow jams in there?”

“Lots,” he said, squinting at the screen. “All the finest.” He selected something with a sardonic grin. Instead of Billie Holliday or Damien Rice, Ariana Grande’s flutelike voice filled his living room.

“No Luther Vandross?” she said. He gave her a challenging look. Her eyes narrowed. The techno chorus made the comic book figurines on his shelves tremble. With a laugh, they danced madly around the room.

The fell on the sofa, panting and smiling.

“I can’t understand a word they were saying, but the music slams,” she said, wiping the sweat from her brow.

“I learned the important phrases in Korean - like hello, I’m hungry, and let me love you, girl,” he said with a giggle. She took off her shirt and dabbed it on her chest. He waggled his brows and ran his finger between her breasts. “I love a sweaty woman.”

“Good, ‘cause I sweat like horse,” she said. “I’ve sometimes broken a sweat while thinking.”

“I think you mean ‘sweat like a pig’,” he said.

“That’s silly. Pigs don’t sweat,” she said. “What are you thinking about that makes you sweat?” he said.

“Stuff and things,” she said, and winked at him. “Are you ever gonna tell me why you love K-pop so much?”

He went to the kitchen, then came back with two beers. “It started in uni. My roommate Will used it as a concentration aid whenever he wrote code. At first it drove me mad, but then I began to understand his method. The music’s fast,  and good, but since we couldn’t understand the words at the time, it made the work go fast.”

“So that’s why you listen to it in the shop as well?” she said. “To concentrate?”

“Yes, and also because it’s awesome,” he said. They cuddled on the sofa and drained their beers.

“Are you going to completely give up Big Data?” she said, smiling. She liked saying it.

“I might want to open a custom furniture business sometime, but I know I won’t be able to stop writing code.”

“You’re serious about that? The furniture?” she said. “Not that you can’t do it. Liv’s desk is absolutely gorgeous.”

“Of course,” he said. I’ll work out a barn in rural Scotland and ship my creations all around the world. My pieces will be a silent symbol that you’ve made it.”

Her eyes got bigger. ”That’s ambitious,” she said. “Will you make me something?”

“Sure. A matching love spoon. Or a carved salt and pepper set. You know, things you can afford on your meager artist’s salary.” She rolled her eyes and kissed his shoulder. “Or, maybe,  if you want and we ever get to that point, of course …”

“What?” she said. She put her legs on his lap.

“A house.” She was silent. He fidgeted. Maybe it was too much, too soon. “Or not. I said it only because I remember you mentioning you hated living in New York.  It’s silliness,” he said quickly.

She shook her head, but got on his lap and kissed his face repeatedly. “I do. It’s filthy. I miss clean air and green things as far as the eye can see.”

“How about dirty white things?” He meant sheep.

“Huh?” she said. She was humbled. How easily he can offer her love, shelter, and safety. Again, she wondered what she had to offer him. Being in that home only three months in the year? Discomfort crawled up her spine as she realized that maybe Ella … maybe she wasn’t a heartless monster. Maybe, she needed more than financial stability. She invited her along many times, but Ella wasn’t like her in that way. She didn’t need to be in the different place every month to feel like she was accomplishing something. She just needed her attention, and her time. She sighed.

“I’ve ruined the mood, haven’t I?” he said. “Typical.”

She kissed him, softly and repeatedly. He flushed with the tender attention, but held her closer.

“You haven’t ruined a thing,” she whispered, and kept going.

“I know it’s adolescent to lie around planning your life together after only a week,” he said. “I don’t want to make you feel pressured. I’m immensely lucky that you even agreed to call me sometimes after tomorrow.”

She grunted. “Call you sometimes?” she grunted. “I would have you at no more than arm’s length if I could.”

He sat up. “I could be your assistant. Build the installations,” he said. “Then we’d never be apart.”

“You deserve more than building framing,” she said.” I don’t want you following me around like a one person entourage.”

“I can do what I want with my skills,” he said. “I’m pretty handy with a hammer.”

“You have far too brilliant a skill set for such things. And no, being in love isn’t adolescent.”

“I didn’t say that. Playing an adult game of M.A.S.H. after a fortnight is. A little,” he said. “I can wait.”

“The reason teenagers do that is because they haven’t gotten their hearts broken yet. Not because they’re young and silly,” she said. “It’s not time, but experience that makes us cautious.”

“You’re not just beautiful, but wise,” he quipped, but she fascinated him. It was absolutely true.

She got off his lap. “Let’s go outside and look at the stars,” she said. He took her hand and guided her to a wood lounger close to his lilies.

“Your garden smells incredible,” she said. They lay side by side, looking at the sky. Gladly, the last of the rain clouds drifted away by sunset. The moon was almost full, and it painted their skin silver. “The lilies are glowing.”

“Mmm,” he said, and pulled her closer.

“I’m going to miss you. So much,” she said. Her voice trembled dangerously.

“Shh,” he said, but his eyes burned. “Maybe the separation is only temporary. I’ve always dreamt of driving down the Pacific Coast Highway with the top down. In the next couple of months, I might not be able to resist finally doing it.”

“Although not as jewel colored, it’s way more calm than the Caribbean Sea. I love the Pacific,” she said.

“Especially if you’re in the passenger’s seat,” he said, breathing into her hair.

“I don’t want to insert myself in your dream,” she said.

“Dreams aren’t worth dreaming without you in them,” he said.

“Aww,” she said. “Now you’ve done it.” She burst into tears.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said, but a tear slid down his right cheek. “You’ve got me started too.”

They held each other and sobbed for a solid three minutes.

“Okay, okay, we can’t do this all night,” she said, and sniffed. “Say something happy.”

“I love you,” he said.

She wiped his cheeks and kissed his lips lightly. “I love you too.”

He squeezed her so hard her ribs creaked.

“You know what you said a few nights ago, about not be afraid to share our hearts?” he said. He hiccuped.

“The reprieve,” she said.

“You said we can speak our hearts unafraid for one night. Can we do that … permanently?” he said.

“Yes,” she said. He laced his fingers in hers.

“Okay. I want to build you a house,” he said. “A big, fine one. With a big veranda, and gingerbread detailing. Oh, and stained glass over the door.”

She kissed his cheek. “What’s gingerbread detailing?”

“It’s a type of architectural style with really fanciful, artistic latticework.”

“So it’s like the love spoon, but we can live in it?” she said.

“More or less,” he said.  “I’ll build my shop near it, so I’ll never be far,” he said. “It will be  the most magnificent house in the area.”

“Now you sound proud,” she said, giggling.

“Only the best for you,” he said.

“And how many rooms will it have?” she said.

“Enough,” he said. “Just in case.”

“Just in case what?” She poked his side.

“Just in case,” he repeated, and shrugged.

“I have a feeling you’re not talking about extra storage for all my shoes,” she said with a smile.

“No,” he said.

“I’ll carve our initials in every plank and fitting, too. For positive vibes,” he said. She sat up and caressed him.

“We can live in a shithole apartment in Brooklyn and it would be the best place ever,  you know that? Just as long as we’re together.”

He kissed her hand, and got back to imagining. “Nope. No more shitholes. No more irritating intellectuals and tourists. And there will be water nearby - a river, or maybe even the ocean.”

“But isn’t water bad for wood?” she said.

“I’ll figure something out. Maybe use more stone.” She could tell he was really thinking things through. And it filled her with joy.

“And what about the master bedroom?” she said, caressing up his thigh. When she got to the top, she squeezed.

“It will be cozy.” She unbuttoned his jeans and reached inside. “What about our quality time?” he said, but he shifted toward her.

“I can attest to the fact that this kind of time is of the finest quality,” she said, and moaned in his ear as she wrapped her hand around him. “And you mentioned something earlier about tilling your garden however you choose...”She got on top of him.

“I did say that,” he said. “But there’s one little problem.”

“What’s that?” she said into his neck between kisses.

“A noise problem,” he said. He put his hand in her pants and curled two fingers inside her. She let out a long, deep groan. She chuckled. “Told you.”

She stood up quickly. “Let’s go inside.”

He sucked his fingers. “As you wish,” he said with a smile.

She got up before dawn without her alarm. He slept deeply in her arms, so she untangled herself and tiptoed into the bathroom.

As she showered, she washed her hair with his shampoo. It wasn’t much, but her hair would smell like him for the next couple of days. The sun came up through the window. She felt both light and heavy. She rubbed soap on her inner thighs, and sighed at the ache. Despite what happened, she needed to focus on her art. It was going to be a long, long three months. She dried herself and went back into the bedroom, where he waited.

She dropped her towel and crawled into bed with him. They pressed their foreheads together and breathed together until the worst of the pain passed.

“I can’t help thinking…” he said. His voice was still rough with sleep.

“Hmmm?” she said, kissing up his shoulder.

“Of that wet towel on the floor,” he said with a chuckle. She groaned and rolled out of bed. “Wait, I was joking,” he said, trying to pull her back.

“No, you weren’t,” she said. “I was a bit spoiled growing up. Clean and tidy isn’t my forte.” She hung the towel on a peg. “My ex spoiled me as well. I didn’t really have to do much. She took care of the house stuff.”

He pooched his lips out.

“I sense disapproval,” she said as she dressed.

“If my ma sees dirty dishes and dust when she visits, she’ll swoon,” he said.

“But that just means the house is lived in.” She turned her back to hide her mirth. He looked genuinely at a loss for works. She burst into laughter and dove in bed. “I can see that being clean and tidy is important to you. I’ll be more mindful, but I can’t go from zero to Mary Poppins in three months.”

“You make it sound like I’ll be doing a white glove test every day,” he said. “If we’re both busy, we can get someone in.” He made a funny face as he said it that tickled her.

“Your Scottish sensibilities would love that,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Dios mio, to actually say those words - you really are into me.”

“Told you,” he said, and hugged her tight.

“The cab to the airport gets here in an hour and a half – I have to go back to Olivia’s for my things,” she said.

“I’ll go with you,” he said. He jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and washed his face and tried not to think of it, but he got sicker with every second. She was something special. Monumental. But she was leaving. So much could happen in the interim.

He bent over the sink and let the water drip off his face.

Now that she was in his bed, he wanted no one else to share it. Now that they kissed, he wanted no other brand. A ghost pain radiated from his spine, and his facial muscles twitched. He knew that weeping would not keep her there, but his body curled with the desire to do it. He wasn’t a young man anymore, but he wanted to call his ma and cry to her like he hadn’t when Mara left. Not out of sadness, but happiness and impatience.

He decided he would go to Scotland to see her. Soon. Today. He needed to tell her everything, and have her help him unpack everything with her usual honesty and grace. After deciding that, he didn’t feel so weak, and he combed his hair and met her in the kitchen, where she combed her damp hair standing in front of the window. The sun gilded her wavy chestnut hair, and she hummed something unfamiliar.

“You took long enough,” she said, turning and smiling. He whimpered and hugged her from the back, pressing his lips against the warm apple of her cheek. She put her hands over his. “I’m not complaining. You look fantastic.”

“So do you,” he said. He pulled out his phone out. “Let’s do a selfie.”

“You and your selfies,” she said, but she posed as he help the phone in front of them.

“I’d photograph you every day if I could,” he said. “Smile.” He hugged her tight, and she beamed. The phone clicked.

“Okay, let’s go,” she said. He pulled her close and kissed her. The phone clicked.

“Perfect,” he said. “That’s the screen saver.”

“You’re such a nerd,” she said.

“I never promised anything different,” he said with a wink. “I’ll text it to you.” She snorted. He nuzzled her. “You know you want it. My face makes your heart happy.”

“Yes,” she said. “Come on. It’s almost time.” She walked out the door, but he wasn’t behind her. She double back. “What you doing?” she yelled.

“Go ahead. I’ll be right there,” he responded from the top of the stairs.

When she knocked on Connie’s door, she was already having breakfast with Monty.

“How are you doing, sweetie?” Connie said, and hugged her.

“Okay. We’re packed and ready to go,” she said. “Mother’s expecting me this afternoon.”

She walked to the living room for her things. “Did, uh, Alex call you?” Connie said.

“No. And I don’t expect it,” Liv said. Connie gave her another squeeze, then started gathering her things and throwing them in the suitcase. Liv rolled her eyes.

“If you fold things, you can fit a lot more in there,” she said. She reached out to help her, but Connie slapped her hand.

“Leave it. I have a system,” she said. She bunched a shirt into a ball and stuffed it into a corner. The only thing that was neatly folded and wrapped in tissue at the bottom was the dress John gifted her.

John walked in holding Monty. “Good morning, Liv. Ready to go to grandmum’s?” he said to Monty.

“Jun!” he said, and nodded.

“I’m going to miss you, honey,” he said to the boy, and tickled his belly.

“You’ll be around soon, right?” Olivia said.

“I promise. But I’m going to Scotland for a bit,” he said, and put Monty down to scrutinize Connie’s suitcase.

“Oh God, not you too,” she said, waving him away. “Like I told Connie, I’ve got a system.” She stuffed her jewelry bag in the mesh on the suitcase flap.

“Sure. Systemized chaos,” he said.

Olivia laughed. “That’s what her father always says,” she said.

“Ha ha and hee hee. Have a laugh,” she said, making a face. John plucked the jewelry bag from the suitcase.

“This should be in a secure carry-on – something you have with you at all times,” he said.

“All I’ve got is this suitcase, and my bag.” She held up a large, expensive looking leather satchel. “Your love spoon’s in here as well.”

“That will do,” he said, and put it inside. “Liv’s pearls are in there. You don’t want some greedy airport security guard taking those.”

“I’m gonna go make myself decent for international travel,” Connie said, and went to the bathroom upstairs with a toilette bag.

Liv struggled to put shoes on the baby – he hated them, but his grandmother didn’t think it proper for the boy to be barefoot all the time.

“Has he done any more walking?” John said, sitting down.

“Yeah, a little this morning. Mother’s going to be so pleased,” she said. “When are you going to Scotland?”

“This afternoon. After you go, I’m packing up and going to my ma’s,” he said. “It’s been too long.” He had not seen her since before the divorce.

“Getting away will be nice.” She tried to smile, but couldn’t.

He gave her a quick hug. “You will get through this,” he said. “If my goofy arse can, you absolutely will.”

“I think …” she started, but she shook her head.

“You think what?”

“I don’t want to be a lawyer anymore either,” she said. “I think I’m done with that.”

“You don’t want to practice law?” Connie said. Her hair was slicked back in a trendy high bun, and her skin glowed with extra moisturizer. Airplane air was horribly dry.

Liv shrugged. “If I’m going to really try for happiness, I think it’s a place to start. You were right, Connie. I never wanted to be a lawyer. I was miserable, and there’s no reason for it. I’m starting over … completely.”

Connie hugged her tight. “Wow. This is huge,” she said. “What are you going to do? You can’t go to an ashram with Monty.”

Liv chuckled. “No ashrams. I have some thoughts of where to start, though.”

“The old folks?” John said.

“Something along that vein,” Olivia said. “I want to actually help people.”

“I wish you luck telling that to your parents,” she said.

“Thanks. I’ll need it. But I’m determined.”

“Good,” Connie said. “You think there’s time for something to-” Her phone buzzed, and there was a honk from outside.

“Cab’s here,” Liv said.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Connie said. She grabbed her bag and pulled her suitcase off the sofa. “I love you all. So much,” she said. Then, she dropped everything and hugged both John and Olivia close. They squeezed together, with Monty in the middle.

“Text me when you get home,” Liv said into her shoulder.

“Yeah. Call me. Just as soon as you get out of the plane,” John said. He was trying valiantly not to start weeping. “I don’t care what time it is.”

“Of course. To both of you,” she said. There was a more insistent honk.

They were about to break when John pulled out his phone again.

“Selfie?” Connie said with a smile. Her throat burned with tears.

“Yeah. With all of us,” he said. He held the phone high. “To blessed change, and new beginnings. Say cheese!’”

“Cheese!” Even Monty smiled up at the camera.

The cab driver leaned on the horn.

John and Connie hugged again.

“I’ll call you just as soon as the wheels hit the runway at Kennedy,” Connie said, wiping away tears. “I promise.”

“Keep trying if I don’t answer – sometimes reception is spotty on a train,” he said. He couldn’t let go of her.

“Right. You’re going to your mother’s. Tell her hello for me,” she said, extricating herself from his arms. He still held her hand as they walked to the pavement. The cab driver was poker faced. After all, it was her who would miss her plane if she kept messing about.

Olivia walked to the curb and waved Monty’s little hand. “Bye aunt Connie! See you soon!”

She shoved her suitcase in the cab, then threw her bag on the seat.  

John kissed her hand, then let go. “Until later,” he said.

It was not a goodbye. She would do everything in her power to see him again, as soon as possible. She got into the cab, and he closed the door.

“Ready to go, miss? The man said in a heavy Northern accent.

John waved and blew her a kiss. She returned it. “Yes, please.”

The man put the cab into gear and pulled away from the curb. She closed her eyes and tried her best not to burst into tears when she heard a shout. He looked in his rearview, and John was jogging alongside the cab. He pounded on the window.

“Wait!

The man slowed to a stop, and Connie spilled out into the middle of the street.

He panted.”I forgot. I have one last gift. The cab came sooner than I expected.” He reached around his neck and pulled off the jet rosary.

Connie’s lips parted. “But … this is your grandmother’s. Her engagement gift,” she said. He opened her hand, put the necklace in it, then closed her fingers around it.

“You said we should always be completely honest,” he said. She nodded and bit her lip. Tears began to slide down her cheeks. “You actually see me. I noticed from the first time you looked at me. After a lifetime of feeling nearly invisible, it’s the most glorious feeling on Earth to be loved by a woman as extraordinary as you. And I want nothing more than to show you how much I adore you for that. Will you keep it for me?”

The cab driver watched everything from the rear view. He’d been a hack for almost 20 years, and he had seen all sorts of drama – people making up and breaking up and running away from their lives in a thousand different ways. He thought he was impervious to it all. But this couple was different.

They reminded him of the romantic films he saw in secret when he was young. It was Bogart and Bergman, but he had a gut feeling this would be happy ending. He saw it in their eyes. She was leaving, but she wasn’t running. He couldn’t wait to tell his old lady when he got home. After a long day of sewing and current world events, she could use a little sunshine.

She put it around her own neck and tucked it underneath her blouse, next to her skin.

“I will,” she said. “I’ll never take it off.”

“Then say a little prayer for us too,” he said. He took her in her arms and gave her one last kiss then lingered, sipping on her breath. “Soon, we’ll be whizzing down the PCH. Wind in our hair. Ariana on the radio.”

She giggled and hiccuped. “Yes. Soon.”

“Before you know it,” he said, and walked her back to the cab. “You’ve made me a very happy man. Thank you.”

“Thank you, for loving me into a new life,” she said. “I don’t want to imagine where I’d be if I hadn’t impulsively decided to visit Livvie between jobs.”

“Me neither,” he said, making a face. “But we don’t have to, right?”

“No,” she said. She got into the cab. The driver waited, rapt. “I love you, John William Helm.”

“I love you, white dove,” he said with a smile.

“Are you ready to go, miss?” the cab driver said again.

“No,” she said. He hit the gas and drove away slowly. She waved until they turned the corner.

Her phone buzzed. It was a 5 second video of him blowing a kiss. She burst into tears.

Olivia and Monty walked slowly back to the house. John stood on the curb, looking in the direction where she’d driven away.

“Alright, darling. We’re off too,” she said to the baby. She went into the kitchen and double checked to make sure there were no perishables left in the fridge or on the counters. She looked around at the colorful pans, and the paisley curtains.

She was leaving the nest.

She wondered how Alex was doing, and whether she was at her mother’s. Regardless of where she was, she knew she could take care of herself. Eventually, they would have to speak for one last time to make the final break, but she was in no hurry. Alex would find her when she was ready.

John walked in and let out a dramatic sigh. “I love her, Olivia. Truly.”

“I believe you do,” she said, patting his shoulder. “Will you help me with the last of it?” She nodded at a rollie suitcase and some miscellaneous toys that Monty loved. He grabbed as much as he could and followed her to the car. After he loaded everything, she locked the door behind her, and handed him the keys. “Just in case.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’m going to miss you being my neighbor.”

“We’ll still be around. Monty has a lot of milestones to go.”

He laughed. “I love you both. Text me when you get to your ma’s safely. Tell ‘em I’ll be round soon enough.”

“They’ll love it,” she said as she slid into the driver’s seat. They did not have the highest opinion of John after everything that happened. But their budding friendship was just one more new thing they’d have to deal with from her. He peeked into the car and waved at Monty. He wriggled in his car seat and waved back joyfully.

“Bye bye,” he said.

“Bye,” Monty said clearly.

Olivia put her hand over Johns. “Thanks for everything.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he said. “Good luck.”

“I’ll need it,” she said, and pulled out of the driveway.

He watched her go, then walked into his house with a heavy heart. The happy house next door was empty. But his heart - it was full. He went upstairs and pulled his suitcase out from under his bed. He wanted to have a nice, long visit with his ma, so he organized enough clothing for a week. He zipped up his suitcase, then sat down at the bed. He grabbed the pillow she used and breathed deeply. Traces of her perfume and sweat made him smile.

He thought of calling his ma, but she had long retired and didn’t have much else to do but potter in her garden and have a gossip with her long-time next door neighbor. Hopefully, she would be happy to see him.

He couldn’t wait to dig his fingers into that familiar earth, but with a whole new heart.

Four months later

McWay Falls, Big Sur, California, USA

Janice teetered way too close to the edge of the cliff to get a better look at the falls.

“Mother Mary!” he yelled, and ran to her. “Wanna get yerself kilt?” John said is the heavy Scottish brogue he used with his mother. The tails of his morning suit flapped against his thighs. It was a beautiful morning, but the wind was up. The Pacific Ocean churned 100 feet below.

“But look at it! It’s dropping into the wee beach, and right into the sea,” she said, pointing. The wind threatened to carry away her complex flowered church hat. The woman’s brown hair was streaked with a silver she refused to dye away, and her eyes twinkled excitedly in the same warm shade of brown as John’s. “I never thought I’d see the Pacific. What fun!”

Alex walked to them in a shocking pink suit. Her hair was back to being colored. For the wedding, it was a pale lavender.

“Like, I know, right? Me and Alfie hiked all the way down to the beach yesterday. My legs are burnin’, but it was worth it. Water’s not as inviting as it looks.” She hugged herself. When she stood by John, the color scheme he chose for his party was evident – he wore gray with a pink trim, and she wore pink with a gray trim.

“So, explain me again. How does it go that this young lady is, in fact, your best man?” She smiled kindly at Alex. Alex dared to put her arm around the woman’s shoulders.

“Yeah. How’d it happen, bruv?”

“I figure that a groom’s best man has to be his brother, or his absolute best mate. I don’t have a brother, and Alex is my best mate. It was an easy choice.”

She nodded, then held her hat close to her head as another gust buffeted them.

“I’m glad the reception’s in a place with a roof, and walls. This wind would blow the cake right out of my mouth,” she said. “Not it it would be the worst thing to happen.”

“Nonsense, Mrs. Helm! You look beautiful. I can tell which side of the family John gets his good looks,” Alex said, walking her further from the cliff.

“Away, girl! You dinnae need to fib,” she said, but she flushed with pleasure.

She looked over her shoulder and winked at John. He gave her a broad smile and walked back to the pavilion to wait for his bride.

Olivia and Maude flitted around her like fireflies, smoothing and tugging at small details.

Connie pulled at her long, hand-embroidered veil. “I think it’s too much for all this wind, but it’s so beautiful,” she said, running her fingers along the silky, sheer fabric and fingered the tiny opalescent beads sewn into the edges in a lacy pattern. With the traffic, it had a been a longer ride than expected to the airport, so she had time to tell the cab driver her story. She wasn’t usually one to bend the ear of a hack, but his face had been so bright and kind. She was so nervous and sad that she couldn’t help it.

When they arrived at the airport, he told her he’d seen thousands of men’s faces, and John’s face was easy to read. He loved her, and although she left, he would be soon to follow. As an afterthought, she gave him her website information since he was curious about her work.

When she’d announced her formal engagement, he’d gotten in contact, and said his wife, a master tailor, would like to make something for them both.

She thought it might be a pair of gloves, or just the veil. After John and Connie saw her portfolio, the whole wedding party wore her and her assistant’s creations.

“You look like a page ripped out of a victorian wedding magazine,” Maude said, and blushed. Olivia squeezed her hand, and Maude bent to give her a kiss. Olivia met Maude in the most improbable way – she helped her change her tire when it blew on the way to her parent’s house. Maude was straightforward, and kind, but also one of the best contractors in Bristol. She stood a full head shorter than Olivia, had a glossy cap of brown hair, and eyes so green it made her crave lime.

Connie’s heart was full. Olivia was happy. Alex was in art school, and happy. And she was getting married to the best human on Earth. Olivia adjusted her veil one last time and looked at her from over her shoulder.

“You ready to take the plunge?”

“Are they going to run into the ocean when they finish their vows?” Connie’s father said from the corner.

“Ha ha and heehee, papa,” she said, but she was smiling.

“I had a swim this morning. Brrr. The air is warm, but that water will put hair on your chest,” he said, standing and adjusting his suit. He wore the gray, but drew the line at the pink trim. It was too evocative for his personal taste.

“So many brides say they’re scared, but I’m not the least bit afraid. Is that crazy?” Connie said. She held a large bouquet of bright pink, purple, and white flowers.

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not married. Yet,” Olivia said pointedly. Maude put her arm around her and beamed. The tent trembled over their heads with a stiff breeze. “Whose idea again was it to marry here instead of a nice church, or one of the many stately homes down this coast?”

“John. We stopped her on our trip, and he was instantly smitten. I was almost jealous.”

“It’s a nice place. But why get married here?” Olivia said, pointing down. “There are some nice places just down the road.”

Connie chuckled. “John has a thing for water. When he suggested we marry outside, I couldn’t refuse him. I honestly don’t care where we marry anyway. Just as long as we do.”

“Silly, lovely man,” Olivia said, shaking her head.

“I have to say, the view’s way better than a church,” Maude said. “I wish you two the best.”

“Thank you,” Connie said, and gave her a hug.

“We’re going to the pavilion, darling. See you there.” She blew her a kiss, and her and Maude left, holding hands.

“You look beautiful,” her father said in Spanish. “My kind-hearted, sweet little girl.”

“Don’t talk like that. I’ll cry,” she said. He walked up to her. In her heels, she was just taller than him, since she’d inherited her height from her mother’s side of the family. He held her hand.

“I was very surprised when you told me about John,” he said carefully. “But I could hear such love in your voice. It’s a father’s dream, and his nightmare, because if the object of your affection proves untrue…”

“But that didn’t happen,” she said quickly.

“No, it did not. “I admire John. He sought me out, without fear, and spoke to me like a man about his intentions. I appreciated it, and best of all, I heard the love in his voice as well.”

“He only told me about that after the fact. When I said yes,” she said, looking at her engagement ring. It sparkled in canary yellow and white diamonds.

“He’s a smart man. He knew to consult me beforehand,’ he said.

“I love and respect you, but I don’t think I would’ve cared if you approved or not,” she said, pouting dramatically.

“That’s my fire-headed daughter,” he said, and laughed. “Stubborn, but about all the right things.” He referred to defying his wishes for her to be a lab rat, and not an artist. “You’ve made me very proud, little one.”

She hugged him tight. “I love you, daddy,” she said in Spanish.

Olivia came back. “It’s time.”

She looked at her father. “He’s waiting. Take me to my husband.”

Next Chapter