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dehydratedpool · 3 years

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hello again!! it’s the beginning of a new month, meaning a new fic rec post!! here are some fics that i read this month that are just... exquisite and deserve all the love and attention <3

there aren’t as many as last time unfortunately, since i was quite busy this past month, but i promise next month won’t fall short! ((fics that i’ve reread this month are indicated with a **))

Foolishly Laying Our Hearts On The Table [11k] by runaway_train @runaway-train-works

“You think Harry wants that?”

“Dunno. Maybe. Wanna make him happy.” Harry takes advantage of the red light he’s pulled up to turn and look properly at Louis’ face. He’s not even looking in Harry’s direction though, focused instead on something out of his side window, head drooped, mindlessly playing with the string of his hoodie between his fingers, lost in his own world somewhere. For some reason, it makes Harry’s spine straighten.

“Because he’s your best mate?” Harry questions carefully.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

He couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”

Louis releases a deep breath, still not turning around. Harry wonders who he thinks he’s talking to right now. “He’s so pretty. Want to kiss him all day long. And buy him a big house and give him presents and marry him.”

Or; The one where Harry is in love with his best friend Louis but doesn't think he stands a chance until some wisdom teeth and a rather unusual confession might just change his mind.

--> this is a new comfort fic for me tbh. i got rec’d this after louis tweeted about getting his wisdom teeth removed, and i’m so SO glad i decided to give it a read. it’s so precious and lovely and personally, i found it to be a quick read. it’s the kind of fic that makes me both warm and fuzzy inside but also highly upset that i’m single and will surely be alone forever

Just Let Me [14k] by HelloAmHere

The party was going well. So well, Niall had already sworn undying love to one multi-tiered chocolate cake, two friendly corgi-poodle mixes, Zayn’s hair, and the entire population of Los Angeles. So well, Zayn had only laughed and ruffled Niall’s hair and not even twitched towards a cigarette. So well, nearly everyone had spilled far past the boundaries of the night’s original plans, extracting bottles of vodka from the cabinets and losing a lot of clothes. Harry had proclaimed that he was finally going to throw a small and very grownup dinner party and of course here they were three hours later, fifty people half-naked in the pool. Soon to be full-naked, if Louis had to guess. Everybody in LA loved a heated pool. Everybody loved Harry.

--> ok LISTEN. as some of you know, i just recently got into reading a/b/o fics and this one is definitely at the top of my fave a/b/o fics out there. it’s an interesting take on the trope, almost a bit more realistic in my opinion, and to quote the author’s note, “’what if a/b/o but less biological determinism?’”. i believe i found this one through a masterpost of “touch-deprivation fics”, so if that’s your thing, give this one a chance!

my ugly mouth kept running [4k] by theankletattoo @hadestyles

Another seed, another try except they know what caused the first wilt. They will be careful, they will be kind and together they will nurture it to life.

sometimes second chances are more important than the first.

--> rori, the author, never fails to disappoint when it comes to all of her works. i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again, she’s so incredibly fucking talented it’s unreal. her imagery is so vivid and real it leaves simultaneously everything and nothing to the imagination. as usual, h and l’s dynamic in this is an addicting portion to this fic that has you anticipating how their dynamic will shift and grow up until the end. if you’ve yet to read any of rori’s work, i suggest you add that to your to-do list for the month, and get a head start to her collection with this one!

**As Wicked As Anything Could Be [21k] by whoknows @crazyupsetter

It starts when Louis decides that he wants to lose his cherry and announces that he thinks the best way to do that is by going to a gay club. Naturally, Harry can’t let him go alone, so he tags along and spends the night rating guys with Louis until someone finally catches Louis’s eye.

Harry shoves him out to dance with the guy, and he can already tell that it’s going to be a quick and dirty hook up, so he’s not surprised that Louis and the guy disappear into the bathroom ten minutes later.

It is a surprise when Louis comes out not even two minutes later, pale and clammy, grabs Harry by the hand and drags him right out the door.

Somehow Harry comes to the decision that it would be a good idea for him to be in the room with Louis while Louis gets laid.

It’s a stupid fucking decision.

--> i discovered this fic a while ago on a whim and i have zero regrets. this is absolutely on my top ten fave fics list (that has yet to exist but perhaps i’ll post it one day). whoknows is a well known author within the fandom, so i’m sure i don’t have to say much about their immense talent, but SERIOUSLY, their plot progression, even their use of dialogue is wonderful in every way. as a writer, i envy them lmao. this fic takes me on a rollercoaster every time i read it, it’s yet another comfort fic of mine and never fails to disappoint every time i pick it up again. please, do yourselves a favor this april and read this.

Keeping The Flame Alive [19k] by whoknows @crazyupsetter

Recording with One Direction never felt like this. There’s a couple reasons for that, Harry thinks. One is that they did most of their recording on the road, rushed and in busses and hotel rooms, never in one place long enough to really get an argument going. The other, larger and more important one, is that back then he had the sweetest, meanest little omega around to distract him from all of that frustration.

The first time around, when he’d been recording his debut solo album, it hit him pretty hard. He likes to think he’s better adjusted to it now, but frustration is warring under his skin nonetheless. He doesn’t want to be told what to do most of the time, and he especially doesn’t want to be told what to do when it comes to his music.

What he does want right now is that sweet, mean little omega right in front of him with his mouth on Harry’s cock. Unfortunately, the best he’s got is his own hand and a shared toilet. So. That’s really not going to work.

--> yes, for the first time in dehydratedpoolfics history of fic recs even tho i’ve only been doing this for a month i am rec’ing the same author twice, but seriously, how could i not??? this fic took me on a literal journey like... wtf. i have no words. seriously, i have none, i’m just that blown away, go read it for yourself .

**a trail of honey through it all [27k] by bruisedhoney @yvesaintlourent

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

Or, the TPH fic we’ve all been waiting for.

--> okay look. i may or may not have a slight obsession with this fic. i reread it constantly, mostly for the iconic line, “are we fuckin’ or fightin’?”, because how can i not scream over that?? ((also patiently waiting for the sequel)) this is a literary masterpiece, one that defines an entire generation of this fandom i stg. but in all seriousness, hayley, the author, does such a wonderful job of giving the reader a vivid look into “nowhere, georgia”, and as a southern gal myself, i absolutely adore the itty bitty pieces of southern culture embedded into this, the tiny quirks that make this fic authentic. i could probably go on forever on why this fic is so iconic, but perhaps you should read it for yourself instead *wink* *wink*

SO. that’s all for this month!! if you read any of these, first of all, be sure to read the tags and author’s note (if any) before starting, AND please don’t forget to leave a quick kudos or comment, it means more than you may ever know <3

#fic recs #fic rec #yourlarrysource #hlcreators #hljournal #harry styles #louis tomlinson #larry stylinson #fanfiction #writing #march 2021 fic recs

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7-wonders · 6 years

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Mad Love

Summary: A regular evening of studying takes a sick turn when the woman you always see at the grocery store kidnaps you. Things get even crazier when you find out why: to be the bride of the Antichrist.

Word Count: 2429

A/N: TW for kidnapping, mentions of blood, injury, forced marriage, Satanism. To clear something up, I headcanon that this takes place after Mead is resurrected as a robot, and probably a few months before the actual apocalypse. Look it? Hate it? Feedback is always appreciated, and my requests are always open!

The leaves of the large oak trees rustle in the chilly breeze, and you hug your jacket closer to your body. It’s late, the sky streaked with the dark blues and purples that a sunset leaves behind. Staying as close to the streetlights as possible, you pick up your pace and hustle to your car. Under normal circumstances, you never would have parked so far away from the library, or any building, but you had already been running late and the only parking spot available felt like it was a mile away (though that’s most likely an exaggeration). The once-full parking lot is now sparse, only a few cars remaining.

You’re naturally cautious, as most women your age are in the 21st century. If you hadn’t been so eager to finish your work, you would have walked out with your friends an hour ago. Instead, you waited until the library was nearly closed to realize that it was probably a good idea to get back home, and now there was nobody to walk out with. As a result, your keys are clutched between your fingers, acting as a makeshift weapon against anybody who dares to get close to you. There’s no cars parked directly by yours, and you can feel yourself relax knowing how close you are to a hot shower and a comfy bed. Hitting the button on your key fob to unlock the car, your hand stalls on the handle when you hear a car door slam.

You hurryingly slip into your own car, locking the doors behind you. When a knock sounds on your window, you jump and whip towards the noise. A woman with cropped black hair and dark painted lips waves at you through the glass, and after you get over your fright you realize it’s only the nice woman you frequently run into at the grocery store.

“Hello, Ms. Mead.” You greet politely, rolling down the window in order to speak with her.

“Sorry to scare you like that, (Y/N).”

“It’s fine, I’d rather it be you than someone with bad intentions.” She chuckles at your joke, placing her hand on the frame of the car to steady herself.

“I hate to bother you when I know you’re on your way home, but you wouldn’t have happened to see my son in the library, did you?”

“Your son?” You question, frowning slightly.

“Adopted son, actually. He came to me under difficult circumstances, and I’ve taken him in. You’ve probably seen him at the market with me: tall, he’s got shaggy blond hair, probably wearing black?”

“Oh yeah! Michael, right?” You haven’t seen him with his ‘mother’ for a few months, not since the day before that poor butcher got stabbed at the grocery store, but he must be back now. Ms. Mead smiles and nods.

“That’s him.”

“I wish I could say I’ve seen him, but I haven’t. He might’ve been in there though; I was pretty focused on my own stuff, and didn’t look around much.”

“Guess I’ll just wait around a little longer, see if he’s one of the last to come out.” You smile sympathetically, grabbing her hand in comfort.

“I’m sure he will, don’t worry. With a mom like you, he’s bound to have a good head on his shoulders.”

“Thank you, sweet girl.” Your smile falls slightly when her grip grows stronger on your hand.

“Have a good night, Ms. Mead.” You try to take your hand back, but to no avail. Ms. Mead’s other hand moves out of the corner of your eye, and before you can react you feel a sharp pinch at your neck. You hand flies up in alarm, only to meet a syringe sticking out of you. Your limbs grow heavy, and your head lolls to the side as your vision blurs. Right before you lose consciousness, you see the woman reach to unlock the car door, a wide smile still on her face.

Your bed is extremely warm today, and you groan in dissatisfaction when you realize you’re awake. Stretching your arms above your head, you relish the feeling of the silk sheets against your sore joints. Your eyes pop open in alarm once you remember that you don’t own any silk sheets. In a flash, the events that happened before Ms. Mead stabbed you in the neck with a needle flood your memory.

Scrambling up into a sitting position, you try to figure out where you are. The bed that you’re in is large, larger than any other bed you’ve ever slept in. The black silk sheets match the heavy black comforter, a black and red color scheme being utilized throughout the entire room. The lighting is dimmed, and a large inverted star in a circle hangs on the wall across from you. Your horror at your predicament only increases when you look down and see you’re not wearing the clothes you were earlier. Instead of your jeans and sweatshirt, your body’s covered in a black slip, and the same star-and-circle shape is on a pendant around your neck.

The door opens, and a woman in a cloak enters the room.

“Oh good, you’re awake! It’s funny; that little, itty-bitty amount of serum knocks a person out for quite some time.”

“Please help me, I don’t know where I am and I need to get out of here.” You plead, shifting off of the bed to grab her arm.

“You’re right where you’re supposed to be. Don’t worry, we haven’t started the fun without our guest of honor.”

“Are you gonna kill me?” You can’t stop your lip from wobbling, the only visible sign that you’re on the verge of losing it. The woman chuckles, and you flinch when she caresses your cheek.

“Oh no, no, no! Nothing like that.” She moves to the end of the bed, opening up a trunk and pulling out a garment bag. “Let’s get you dressed; he was the one who picked this out.”

“‘He?’” You question, but the woman doesn’t answer. Instead, she unzips the bag and pulls out a dress. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Something we’ve been waiting for for a very long time.” You want to fight, to scream and run, but even if you did manage to get out of this room, you don’t even know where you are right now. So you allow yourself to be dressed, watching in the mirror as the woman fawns over you. The outfit that ‘he’ picked out is a black dress that flows to your knees. A lace overlay completes the look, sleeves extending to your elbows. It’s a beautiful gown, and in any other situation you’d be obsessed with it.

Once you’re deemed ready, you’re dragged out of the room with a firm grip on your arm. You try to find anything to help you figure out where you are, but there’s no doors or windows in the hallway you’re being led down. When the large doors ahead of you open, your mouth falls. It looks like some kind of church, with pews creating an aisle down the center of the room. The seats are filled with people, all wearing the same cloaks as the woman you first encountered. The shape that’s on the pendant you’re wearing is prevalent everywhere, whether it be the fastenings on everyone’s cloaks or the giant one suspended at the head of the room. Dully, you finally recall that the shape’s a pentagram.

You’ve been so preoccupied in dissecting everything one-by-one, that it takes you a moment to actually grasp what’s at the end of this aisle. A tall, bald man with a black goatee stands at the top of the steps, holding a thick book in his hands. On the step below him stands a figure you’re familiar with--Michael Langdon, Ms. Mead’s ‘son.’

Even so, he looks different than he did when you last saw him months ago. His hair is longer, with the ends getting close to brushing his shoulders. He’s developed a sense of fashion, replacing the cut-off shirts and Doc Martens with a tailored suit and red bottoms. Even his demeanor has changed, and he stands proudly and confidently. He’s smirking at you, eyes glinting in the light of the flaming torches that line the walls.

A firm hand on your back has you stumbling forward, arms pinwheeling in front of you to attempt to regain your balance. You spin around, hoping that you can make a break for the main doors, but you’re stopped by two very large men who weren’t there before. Knowing that you’re not going to walk willingly, they each take an arm and haul you to the front of the room. Michael’s smirk widens to a smile as he faces you, but you’re sure your face is the exact opposite.

“Michael, we don’t have to do whatever’s going to happen. Just let me go, I won’t even tell the police.” You whisper frantically, searching his eyes for some sort of remorse.

“Why would I let you go now that I finally have you?” He takes your hands in his, and a shudder runs through you.

The overwhelming question that keeps running through your brain is why me? What compelled Ms. Mead to knock you out and kidnap you, and all of these people to become willing bystanders in whatever is about to happen. Maybe I should’ve just kept my head down whenever I saw him. I shouldn’t have offered him a ride home when I saw him walking in the rain, shouldn’t have told him how nice his smile was, or that he had a good taste in music. Would he still have singled me out then?

“Dear believers,” you jump at the booming voice of the man above you, and Michael strokes his thumb over your hand in what you assume is supposed to be a comforting gesture. “We are gathered here together in the presence of our Lord Satan and the souls of the damned, to witness this most unholy matrimony between the Antichrist and his dark bride.”

A shaky gasp expels itself from your lungs as you try to comprehend what’s happening. The entire situation is ludicrous, and if it weren’t for having woken up earlier you would try to pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming. The mere idea of being in a Satanic church, face-to-face with the fucking Antichrist who had kidnapped you in order to marry you against your will is a plot straight out of a crazy fiction novel. Unfortunately, it’s a fiction novel you’re now living in.

“‘Matrimony?’ You don’t even know me!” You hiss, attempting to rip your hands away from him. He holds you still, and draws you even closer to him.

“Oh, my darling, I know everything about you. Our souls are entwined with each other; you were made for me, sent to me by my father to be by my side.” Tears brim up in your eyes as you look out at the crowd, desperately hoping one of them will step in, put a stop to this madness, and save you. “Continue, Anton.” Michael commands.

“Michael Langdon, as the one begotten son of Satan, you are responsible with re-molding the world in His image. Of course, no one can undertake a task such as this alone, not even the Antichrist. For that, you have (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Two souls that were specially created for one another, to help support each other, to love and to cherish each other.” The man--Anton--produces a dagger from some hidden pocket in his cloak. Michael, who apparently already knows what to do, takes it from him.

“Cut my hand, (Y/N).” Michael encourages, holding the dagger’s handle towards you. “I’ll do the same to you, and this will serve as our vows.”

“What the fuck? No!” You start shaking your head in disbelief. Michael takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look him in the eyes. You don’t know exactly what he does, but your gazes are locked on each other no matter how hard you try to look away from him.

“Take the dagger and cut my hand.” Your movements are disconnected from your mind as you take the weapon, your muscles twitching as you attempt to gain control over your body again. The skin is easily sliced open with the smallest amount of pressure, dark droplets of blood pooling in Michael’s palm.

“How did you make me do that?” You ask, Michael gripping the dagger with his non-injured hand.

“Just a simple concilium spell; I apologize for having to use magic on you, but I promise that it’ll be worth it.” He grins, quickly slicing your own palm. You hiss at the sting of the air on your cut, Michael placing his injury against yours. The feeling of hot, sticky blood mixing together on your palm has your skin crawling. The torches flicker before going out with a whoosh, yet the room remains lit with a red glow that you can’t find the source of.

A ring appears in Michael’s hand, and before you can protest he’s slipped it on your ring finger. It’s a delicate silver band, a blood-red diamond sitting in the center of it. The cuts have both healed, dried blood being the only remaining sign that you were ever injured in the first place. Tears roll down your face while the audience cheers and the torches relight themselves.

“The vows have been completed and Satan has voiced his approval for this union. By the power vested in me by our Dark Lord, I pronounce you husband and wife.” Michael’s ecstatic at Anton’s declaration, smirking towards his loyal followers.

“May I...kiss you?” For the first time tonight, he’s hesitant. You’re completely in shock and shaking like a leaf, not even comprehending what he’s just said. Michael takes your lack of an answer as a ‘yes,’ slowly leaning in towards you and placing a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth. It’s a gentle gesture, one that doesn’t seem like Michael at all.

“M-Michael.” You stutter, tears turning to heaving sobs as the reality of this situation sets in. Michael smiles at you sadly, taking his time to kiss the drops of water off of your face.

“Don’t worry, (Y/N). You’ll learn to accept your role in the New World, just as I have.” Your chest heaves, breathing without managing to take in any air. “I love you, so much, and you’re going to love me too.”

Tag List: @sammythankyou @queencocoakimmie @let-me-try-mom @pastel-cloudz @sebastianshoe @nana15774 @lichellaw @ultragibbycentralworld @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @alexcornerblog @everything-is-awesomesauce @tickled--pinkmoodpoisoning @ccodyfern @jimmlangdon @dolceandchalamet

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon imagines #michael langdon x reader #Michael Langdon x you #american horror story #american horror story imagine #American horror story apocalypse #ahs #ahs apocalypse #ahs imagine

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mellicose · 6 years

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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.

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

#That Woman Over There #you me and him #David Tennant #fan fiction #John + Connie #4 EVA #the one where they get married #one more chapter to go #I love them all so much #I'll just be over here having a real toast for fictional characters

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tobedeletedwayward · 7 years

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Roommates || Suga || Part 11

Summary: A kiss can change everything. Why haven’t you and Yoongi let it?

Word Count: 1,912

A/N: God I love and hate writing this series; I’m going to be so torn when its all over... Whenever that’ll be.

<< Part 10 ||

Soon after the holiday season passed, your life returned to some vague sense of rhyme and reason.

And yet in the midst of that, in the brief moments where your thoughts would escape you, all you could think about was Min Yoongi under a night sky filled with a rainbow of colours fanning behind him like some form of halo, his lips so close to your own and the rhythmic thumping of your heart.

And you wanted to punch yourself in the face because of it.

The middle of January hit you hard and fast, and the once deathly winter winds had begun fading into the cool breeze of spring. But, unlike the changing of seasons, your relationship with Yoongi remained stagnant.

So stagnant, and yet its lack of motion made you sick.

Well, you and a select group of other people.

“So you’ve kissed?!”

You pushed her forehead with your finger. It was times like this that you regretted hanging out with her and, in the current circumstance, agreeing to go shopping for snacks for movie night with her.

“Wanna yell it any louder for me?” You fired back, glancing around at the convenience store to make sure no one had been too disturbed by the outburst. “And yes, we kissed... Well more like he kissed me; and it was on the cheek – which really isn’t a big deal-”

“You’re kidding! A kiss is a kiss, [Y/N]! Do you know what this means?!”

“He picked up some western customs?”

“He likes you back!”

You dropped another pot of instant ramen into your basket before moving away from her, cheeks reddening from her statement.

“Stop assuming things,” you mumbled, “two friends can give each other pecks on the cheek and they mean nothing – you do it all the time to what’s-his-face.”

Your companion rolled her eyes. “Yah, look at me.”

You obliged, pausing mid-step in order to turn and face her. The moment your eyes met, you felt chills run up and down your spine. [Y/F/N] wore a stern look, one you only very rarely saw in moments you spent together. If fire could be cold, then that’s what her look emanated.

“You need to pull your head out of your ass and actually think about what’s going on for once, yeah? Min Yoongi kissed you – initiated intimacy with you of all people – at one of the most romantic parts of the year. Everyone dreams of being kissed on New Years in any form by the person they love and now you’re gonna stand there and act like it was nothing? I don’t know whether you’re stupid or dense.”

Your mouth dropped open ever so slightly before you sighed and turned on your heel, walking towards the counter to purchase your snacks.

“I’m not stupid or dense, thank you very much.” You muttered, glaring at her from the corner of your eye as the cashier scanned your items.

“Oh?” She challenged, looking at you with a raised brow. “Then why haven’t you and Yoongi talked about it?”

It felt as though a bucket of cold water had been dropped onto your body, forcing you to shiver a little more than you thought you could.

The cashier had interrupted your discussion, making you pay and take your plastic bag of goods before exiting the store in a hurry. [Y/F/N] was on your tail, arms folded as she waited in anticipation for your response. You knew she wouldn’t let up and you sighed, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets as you thought about your answer.

“We haven’t talked because we’ve both been busy – and because there isn’t anything to talk about.” You answered after another few moments of thought. Your companion scoffed. “What? It’s true!”

“You can lie to yourself all you want but you can’t lie to me, [Y/N].” She tutted, leading you back to her apartment building up the road. “That’s the oldest excuse in the book and I’m not taking it as an answer.”

You huffed, causing the stray baby hairs that framed your face to be blown away by the sudden breath of air underneath them.

She wasn’t going to let you out of this as easily as you hoped.

Why hadn’t you and Yoongi talked about it?

It was a complex situation – to you at least.

You liked Yoongi, had liked him for years. As of late, different feelings were coming into fruition and you couldn’t help but notice the differences in the way Yoongi looked at you from back in your university days to know. It was strange; the type of strange that made your stomach flip and heart beat as if you were running a marathon.

If in the off chance he liked you back then that was great.

If he didn’t then-

Then what?

What would happen to the friendship you were already rekindling? What would happen to the current routine you had come to know with your roommate? Would things get awkward? Would you get over him, forget him as if your feelings never existed, never mattered in the first place?

Your throat tightened.

“I’m scared, [Y/F/N]...” You answered, words leaving as a faint whisper that dissipated into the air. She looked at you to continue. “There’s too much on the line if we talk about it and I-”

I don’t want things to change.

I don’t want stop being with Yoongi if things go wrong.

Your throat closed up around the words, trapping them deep in your throat. You clutched the handles of the plastic bag tighter, feeling [Y/F/N] nudge your shoulder comfortingly.

“I don’t want to lose him.”

Hearing the words out loud was a cathartic experience, one that lifted the heavy weight of unrequited affection from your shoulders.

But it also heightened your fear, your uncertainty that surrounded the enigma of Min Yoongi.

[Y/F/N] pulled you into a side hug, an arm slung tightly around your shoulder. “People come and go from our lives all the time... But if Yoongi is an actual friend then he’ll stick around even if he doesn’t feel the same way. But he does, because why else would you kiss someone on New Years?”

You fell silent.

“You should try talking to him... You gotta get that closure.” She continued. The stern expression had melted away and was immediately replaced by a kind and supportive smile.

You nodded, but your throat was still clamped shut and the dark thoughts continued to swim around and around in your head

You had to talk to him.

You needed the closure.

You needed something...

Anything.

“So you finally made your move, huh?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and adjusted the wire of his in-ears. “How about you focus on our gig tonight instead of investing yourself in my life?”

Namjoon laughed at him, locking eyes with the older male through the mirror of their dresser. The former knew that it was unconventional of him to ask about his friend’s love life less than half an hour before they had to go out and perform at one of the most popular clubs in Seoul, but if he did it after then the latter would probably run and avoid answering it entirely.

At least now he was cornered, and with enough prodding an answer would be given.

“I’m just curious,” Namjoon answered, ignoring the very obvious glare that Yoongi wore, “that text you sent was pretty out of nowhere.”

Yoongi shrugged and looked away from Namjoon’s reflection, continuing to adjust his clothes.

It had been out of character of him to send him that message. Less than six hours after he had kissed you he had texted Namjoon, as if he was some giddy middle schooler telling his friends about the fact he held hands with a pretty girl. That one text had been the end of the discussion, had been the only thing he had said about the matter and from that point on he had refused to answer any queries on the topic.

“And I mean I’m happy for you Yoongs, really.” Namjoon continued, turning so he could lean against the dresser. Yoongi quirked an eyebrow at him and proceeded to face him as well. “You’ve been pining like a love sick puppy for [Y/N] for years and you’ve finally made a move; I’m stoked.”

Yoongi felt his lips form a frown. “I’m not pining over her,” he retorted, “don’t make it sound like I’m obsessed with her-”

“Then why did you make me tell you every little thing that happened to her while you were gone?” He challenged.

“Am I not allowed to care about my friends?”

“Not when ‘the friend’ you speak of was the reason you wanted to return to Seoul in the first place.”

Yoongi felt his frown deepen, with new wrinkles forming at the top of his forehead and the corners of his mouth. “She wasn’t the reason-”

“You can lie to [Y/N] but you can’t lie to me, hyung.” Namjoon interjected, his own face being pulled into an expression of displeasure. “You’ve had feelings for her since university, there isn’t anything wrong about that... The problem is that you kissed her and then did nothing to follow it up.”

“It’s not like I made it my New Years’ resolution to confess to her, Joon.” Yoongi argued, folding his arms across his chest indignantly.

“S’not the point, Yoongs.” Namjoon sighed. “You like her, she probably likes you too; why haven’t you addressed the giant elephant in the room?”

The look on Namjoon’s face showed he was anticipating an answer, and a good one at that. Yoongi gave in; he knew they weren’t going to go on stage until this conversation was over, until his friend was satisfied with the answer he formulated.

Why hadn’t the two of you talked about this?

He should have talked about it with you the next day; he was an adult and it was his responsibility since he did initiate the exchange.

But every time he tried his throat closed up, his tongue tied itself into knots while his heart dropped and crushed his liver into itty, bitty pieces. It was a terrifying thought to him, to confront years and years of emotions and tension and to invest in a confession that had the power to ruin everything in the fraction of a second.

What if you didn’t like him back? What if, deep down, you wanted to be with that Seokjin guy over him? How much would things change between the two of you if you rejected him? Could he handle being rejected after so long?

No. No he couldn’t. And he didn’t want to even consider that possibility since it meant that he’d be losign you of all people in this world. And there, in a flash of light he felt the answer reach his lips.

He was scared.

“We’ve got to go on.” He responded, finally, shoving his in-ears into his ear drums and walking out of their backstage dressing room.

As quickly as it came, he swallowed it back down. He didn’t want to think about the uncertain future his mind had formed. Instead he decided that he would talk to you, one day. Yoongi needed to man up, to lay everything on the table to you just as he should have on the second day of the year.

He had to. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day. He owed you that much.

#kpop scenarios #bts #bts scenarios #bangtan boys #bangtan boys scenarios #bangtan #bangtan scenarios #suga #suga scenarios #yoongi #yoongi scenarios #min yoongi #min yoongi scenarios #bts fluff #roommates #roommates au #part 10 #wayward scenarios #waywardscenarios

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1rmono · 8 years

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100 Reasons to Love Kim Namjoon

today is my 3 year anniversary of loving namjoon and so here’s 100 reasons everyone should love him !!!!!!!

he gave up a stable future of studying and going to college (despite being so smart) to risk everything and pursue his dream of becoming a rapper

had to fight criticism for being an ‘idol’ rapper and struggled for years with his decision and identity

when he says he loves himself !!!!

never forget this cute tummy flash !!!!!!!!

he loves all his members so much sosososo much, he always puts them before himself

WHEN HE’S LAUGHING REALLY HARD AND HE STARTS SEAL CLAPPING

that one time tae came to sleep next to namjoon and namjoon sleepily held tae’s hand and wouldn’t let go

his signature move when he takes his two index fingers and covers one of his eyes while looking deadass into the camera

HIS DOE SHAPED PRETTY CHOCOLATE BROWN EYES !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

professional self-dragger, literally willingly drags his own ass

his mixtape release in 2015, every song was so important and deep and okay, it’s largely forgotten because of yoongi’s mixtape but it has so much emotion and meaning behind every song

he loveloveloves dogs !

literally has looked like the best thing the world has to offer no matter what rainbow ass hair color bighit sticks him with

that golden age when his hair was black when will that look come back from the war ://////////

you know that thing he does when he’s been rapping and suddenly breaks out into a smile and scrunches his nose and winks with one eye mmmmmmmmokay !!!!

his angry rap when his neck veins show because he’s literally putting his all into it

the way he looks in beanies !!!!!!!!! with one ear tucked in and the other sticking out

the mole on the left side right under his jawline

the fact that he literally read books on philosophy for hyyh

THE WAY !!!!!!!!! HE LOOKS !!!!!!!!!!!! IN A SUIT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

that time his speaker wasn’t working and he yelled at it and it started to work, Legends Only

the fact that he isn’t afraid to try out weird kinds of fashion and won’t hear shit about it

has been known to support LGBT since 2012

THAT TIME BTS WERE IN ISAC IN 2015 AND HE WAS EVERY MEMBER’S HYPE MAN

when he’s too lazy to wear contacts so he wears his thick black rimmed glasses :’(((((((((((

that time he had a wardrobe malfunction and had his whole shirt ripped off during that dance break and he did the whole performance holding up the sorry remains of his shirt

the fact that kim namjoon invented dimples !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! no really he did

how he is literally incapable of doing a fan sign without making it a display of how much aegyo he can fit in any given span of time and then immediately be shy and embarrassed about it

6 feet tall, he is 6 feet tall also don’t forget that he is literally the eiffel tower because nothing is taller than 6 feet just sayin

that amazing and blessed time he had silver hair and my heart literally exploded !!!!!!!!!!!

HIS PRETTY PINK POUTY PLUSH PERFECT LIPS

that time bts was doing rainism and he was the only one who didn’t know all the moves and messed up but pulled it off confidently in the end

he literally loves his mom so much i’m :’(((((((

HIS ALL BLACK OUTFITS AND THE WAY HE LOOKS WHEN HE WEARS ALL BLACK AND THE WAY ALL BLACK LOOKS ON HIM AND -

the fact that every time someone tells him to do a freestyle dance, it’s literally the same awkward robotic jerky dance with the failing arms and legs since 2013

when he tries to sing even though the members laugh at him

HE JUST WANTS TO CATCH CRABS FOR GOODNESS SAKE

his cute soft pretty pink knees :’))))))))))

in the fire era when he had that acorn haircut and pulled that shit off when will your fave ever

he reads, he has an IQ of 148, he was the nation’s top 1% in 5 subjects in high school, he -

his smile his beautiful glorious soft glowing stunning breathtaking smile that smile that you only have the privilege of seeing someone have one in a million times in your life, the kind of smile that could change the world

the way he looks in a choker the way he looks in a choker the way he looks in a chok-

okay !!!!!!!!!! but his cute squishy tiny nose so kissable n someone please bop it and pinch it and it’s soosososo cute

the way he gets his hands inky and dirty every single fan sign every single darn one !!!!!!!!!!!! why are they dirty? what is he doing ?????

THE AUDACITY HE HAS TO WINK AND BITE LIPS AT CAMERAS THE SHEER AUDACITY

the way his arms look in sleeveless tops his arms !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the way he looks in snapbacks mmmmmmmmmmmm

that time on running man when everyone was supposed to have as many boxes as possible and he literally got his box snatched from his hands and he tripped over nothing he’s the dorkiest softest boy -

SAILORMON !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

that time he wore the army khakis and outfit and i just ://////// oh my god

his side profile his perfect gorgeous beautiful angelic side profile !!!!

his obsession with ryan and how happy he got when jimin got him a ryan cake for his birthday fkdsfhgfd

legs for days !!!!!!!!!!!!!

that time namjoon was a minion for halloween

“I had to dance to survive in this cold, cruel world.”

his cute outfit in the baepsae dance practice video :((((((((((

he looks sosoososososo unbeliveably beautiful bare faced i just love him so much

that time during the hyyh prologue shooting when all the members were piling onto him and he yelled ‘MY BALLS, MAN’

his fucnkgn !!!!!!!!!! puma photoshoot binch !!!!!!!!!!!

the fact that he sang expensive girl and took the fact that he didn’t get a grammy for it like a man :///

that time they won their first award in 2015 and he was cleARLY CRYING but denied it like “i’m not crying”

THAT TIME HE LITERALLY DESCRIBED HIS ERECTION ON LIVE RADIO AIR IN ENGLISH

that one time !!!!!!!!!!!!!! bts had an outdoor performance and his white shirt got sososososooso sweaty it was basically stuck to him and see through if you don’t know what i’m talking about then goodbye

those RARE times when he smiles and sticks his tongue out at the same time !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

that time he was complaining about jungkook and the fruit flies and the weird as shit way he pronounced ‘vaccuum’

his messy friendship with jackson

the fact that he apologized for the mistakes he has made in the past and made no excuses about them

award for having the world’s cutest and flattest tushy !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i don’t know if anyone noticed but the way he holds his fingers when he’s explaining something like he puts them in awkward bent angles and they’re really long and expressive i just looooovvveeeee

that time he was doing a duet with this female singer for a show and he picked her up from the airport and held a sign with her name and got shy around her he’s the biggest gentleman DDDD:

deep husky voice like shots of pure liquid gold sends shivers down my spine ://////////

KIM DAILY

that time he held a tiny itty bitty baby frog on his index finger i dont know why it was so cute of him i just !!!

sweaty namjoon when namjoon sweats the sweat namjoon produces

that time he tried to twerk but ‘something keeps dangling’

when !!!!!!!!!! he wears tight pants and his thighs are almost bursting out of his pants jdfkkhkj

the way he says ‘baby’

EVERY ‘WHAT AM I TO YOU’ PERFORMANCE HE’S EVER DONE

that time he was asked to pick between solo and bts and didn’t hesitate for a microsecond before saying bts

THAT TIME NAMJOON DID THIS GUITAR ACOUSTIC WITH SOMEONE ELSE AND HE RAPPED SO SWEETLY MY HEART OVERFLOWED

taught himself english by listening to 10 english dvds 10 times over 3 years

special thank you to every namjoon stylist who made him wear low cut shirts

THE WAY HE LOOKS WEARING A MASSIVE HOODIE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

‘and i’m sexy like a porn star’

accepts and settles for being the least popular bts member

the way he looks when he wears headbands

when his sleeves are super long so he has sweater paws and his pretty fingers stick out slightly jdsfkshgkjfmncvb

sub par body rolls that can still make you squirm and cry :////////

once when he was the first in a lineup in a fan sign he told a fan ‘now you’ve practiced on me, you can do this in front of your real bias’

got to write in “힙합하다 1” (‘This is Hip Hop 1: South Korea, Hip Hop and Life’) which is a hip hop book for 42 top korean hip hop artists

THAT TINY MOLE BELOW HIS BOTTOM LIP THAT YOU CAN ONLY SEE IF HE SMILES REALLY WIDE

the way he looks in a tie ohohohoohohoho my gosh !!!!!!!!!!!!!

that time in the ariport the cameraman said ‘the girls love you guys’ and namjoon was like ‘thanks, we love you too’

the way he wrote about the sunset in his diary when he went to dubai

HE HAS BENDY ARMS !!!!!!!!! NO REALLY I SWEAR THEY BEND BACKWARDS

he once told a fan ‘sorry’ when she told him she got him photocard

he said that he wanted to know what it was like going to college and sometimes he feels like he missed out on that experience :///

can you believe namjoon invented having pretty hands??????? Amazing

he cares sosooso much about other people he’s always wondering how his fans are doing, what they feel like, always giving advice, always learning and growing, never stopping

“I’m still existing, still breathing. Even though I keep looking forward and run, sometimes I still look back. The path in front and behind are still far, but even so, if the people who look at me are still dreaming and picking up their strengths, that alone makes me feel good. It’s okay to live this way, breaking down, getting hurt and looking back at the past. I will live. I am living like this. Me. Us.”

#anyway the only reason this list isnt longer is because i didn't have any more time :///////#rapmon-net #kim namjoon #networkbangtan #namjoon #rap monster #bangtan #bts #personal #3yearswithnamjoon #IM GOING TO SLEEP NOW BUT ILL BE BACK !!!!

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