#and today the wheel felt easiest

[milkweedman]

Making some yarn for cat toys. This is some very lanolin-y and rough jacob that I think is perfect for my lanolin obsessed cat.

Roughly carded it (too much lanolin to card neatly, but who cares in this case). Spun into a thin singles on Geryon, my wheel. Then made a 2 ply bracelet with that and turned the ply bracelet into a 4 ply bracelet.

This is my favorite way to make 4 ply yarn now. One singles can be easily turned into 4 plies ready to spin this way. It isn't difficult to control, it only needs the one spindle/bobbin and your hand, and because it's not plied in between winding the bracelets it's not a cable ply, just a laid 4 ply.

Anyway, gonna give it a little wash just to bloom the yarn and then make cat toys and stuff them with catnip.

24 yards total of bulky weight. Should be just enough ?

[flemingology]

sparks and spokes ─ jessie fleming x reader

in which: jessie's unlucky flat tire leads to an unexpected connection

warnings: none

wc: 1.9K

a/n: this might be a bit unrealistic, considering the timeline of events in this. but let's ignore it. based on this request! hope you enjoy it.

Ever since making her big move to Portland, Jessie had found her love for biking again. She hadn't particularly lost it while playing in London, but it's safe to say that it wasn't the easiest city to navigate, especially not during rush hour. In Oregon, Jessie felt a bit more comfortable on her bike so once she got the all-clear from her coach and was allowed to ride her bike to home games and training sessions, she'd never arrived by car again.

After a first few weeks of settling into her new place, she ventured out to the bike store a couple minutes from her apartment. After a couple minutes of looking around without purpose, she spoke to an employee who picked out the perfect bike for her. A black, slightly more sporty type of bike is what she went for in the end. She also got a helmet, a lock and a pair of spare bike lights, all set to explore Portland on two wheels.

It was gameday today, lunch time kick-off, so Jessie went through her usual morning routine. Waking up at 8, doing some light stretching before jumping in the shower. She made herself breakfast – eggs on toast, as usual – and a coffee, which she kept in her travel mug to keep with her throughout the day. By 10 she was out the door, double, triple checking she had everything with her in her bag. She was a forgetful person, but couldn't afford to miss out on anything today. Especially seen as she rode her bikes to games these days, she couldn't just quickly drive back to her apartment in case she had forgotten something.

Jessie unlocked her bike that she parked in the bike shed last night. She had gone out for an evening ride after the 5pm rush had relented, enjoying the slight breeze that was blowing through her curls. Autumn was around the corner in Portland, framing the city in a hue of yellow, red and orange. Jessie biked around aimlessly for a little hour before going home and getting in bed early, making sure she got her 9 hours of sleep.

She wasn't this lucky this morning, even though the initial morning rush had passed, 10am wasn't particularly forgiving either on the roads. She rode her bike out of her apartment complex and hit the streets, expertly manoeuvring herself through the busy roads of Portland, trying to make it to her game in time.

She didn't notice it at first, but the moment Jessie felt like she was riding on metal rather than on rubber gave away that something was wrong. The Canadian silently cursed and made her way onto the pavement, getting off her bike and quickly checking the deflating front tire. "Shit", she mumbled. She must have biked over something sharp that was laying around on the bike line, without noticing. The tire had fallen completely flat, Jessie's attempt at feeling whether there was any air left only aiding in letting it run empty.

She tried not to panic while mentally assessing what her options were. She could lock her bike up here and walk the rest of the way, but she would certainly be late. She contemplated calling an Uber, but by the time the driver would've navigated his way through Portland traffic, there's no way she would make it in time. Jessie ran her hands across her face and sighed deeply. After a couple moments she grabbed her phone, which she had neatly tucked away in her backpack, and started dialing coach's number to let him that she would most likely be late for warm-ups.

Her finger hovered over the call button when she felt someone tap on her shoulder, slightly jumping up at the surprising touch. Jessie's head twisted to the side and noticed someone standing behind her, cheeks equally flushed and hair just as disheveled as hers – Jessie assumed you were out for a run, considering the sporty attire. She turned her body towards you and cocked her head to the side, expecting you to speak up.

You were still catching your breath as you tried to form a sentence. "Hi," you started. "I noticed that you were struggling with your bike," you took a deep breath and tried to control your heartbeat, having abruptly stopped your run to help out the stranger that seemed to be in a bit of trouble. Jessie's cheeks flushed again, not due to the breeze this time. "I don't know how much time you have but I live two minutes down the road and I'm pretty sure I've got a spare laying around in the garage."

You had to catch your breath again, creating an awkward silence between the two of you as neither spoke. You cocked your head at the freckled girl in front of you, expecting a reply. Seemingly she noticed, because she cleared her throat and spoke up. "Uhm, yeah," she rubbed her hands off on her sweatpants. "I'm in a bit of a rush, though," Jessie said nervously. Her heartbeat was still racing, unsure whether it was caused by the biking or by the girl that was standing in front of her.

"You stay here, I'll get a run on it and get you that tire. I'll be back in max 5," before Jessie could quip anything back you'd already set off towards your apartment.

True to your word, you made it back to Jessie and her bike in 4 minutes. If you were out of breath when you first spoke to her, you surely were now. You didn't say much, instead getting to work on her bike immediately. You'd have a bit more decency on another day, but knowing the girl was in a rush you thought this was the better approach. Jessie felt a bit helpless, chiming in every now and then to see if she could help but ultimately she took a step back and let you do your thing, her interrupting probably only prolonging the process.

A couple moments later you stood back up from your kneeling position, dusted off your hands on your top and took a step back, sparing another look at the new front tire you had just put on the bike. "That'll do, I think. Should get you where you want to be."

Jessie clasped her hands in front of her and braved a look at you, locking eyes. "Thank you so much, honestly," she felt warmth creeping up her cheeks when you shot her a wide smile.

"Not a bother. Honestly. I needed to get rid of that tire anyway. I hope it doesn't give out too soon, seen as it's been lying around my garage for a good couple months."

Jessie nodded, clearly unsure of what her next step should be. She rocked back and forth from her heels to her tippy-toes before clearing her throat and finding eye contact with you once again. "Jessie," she started, but frowned. "My name. My name is Jessie", she said, cursing herself about how awkward she was being. You didn't seem to mind, though, sporting a toothy grin when she finished her sentence.

"Well, nice to meet you Jessie. I'm Y/N."

She stuck out a hand which you eagerly shook, as you allowed yourself to take in her features, not having had a chance to properly look at her before. She was slightly shorter than you, curly hair framing a freckled and defined face. She was wearing a matching tracksuit, telling you she was probably on her way to a sporting event. Her lips were slightly chapped, the first autumn breeze clearly already leaving it's traces behind on the Portland residents.

Unbeknownst to you Jessie was doing the same, her eyes taking you in and maybe even losing track of time a little, forgetting that she should've been on her way to the stadium already.

She let go of your hand that she kept in a handshake for embarrassingly long, clearing her throat before speaking. "Okay, I should go. I'm running late already," she put her helmet back on and threw one of her legs over the bike saddle. "I owe you one. Big time."

You waved away Jessie's words and bid her a final goodbye, smiling to yourself at the heartfelt interaction you just shared with the stranger. You walked the rest of your way back home with an extra spring in your step, fueled by the brown-haired Canadian you had no idea was now on her way to play football in America's highest league.

Later that night, you catch yourself thinking back on what happened earlier that day. The handshake that lingered, her eyes scanning your face and her flushed cheeks whenever your eyes locked – you couldn't get your mind off the girl.

You knew her name was Jessie, but that didn't get you far. A bit of mindless scrolling through profiles of Jessie's near you didn't give you any clues. Suddenly, you thought back at the clothes she was wearing. You'd noticed the red badge adorning both the pants and the hoodie. You started a google search of Portland sports teams until you came across a badge that looked exactly like the one Jessie was sporting, and your jaw fell slack.

As much as you liked your running, you knew nothing about other sports. Especially not football. You'd never really understood the appeal to it, not finding it entertaining enough to sit down for 90+ minutes and watch 22 people run after a ball. You quickly made your way over to the social media of the Portland Thorns, still not really believing that you'd encountered a famous footballer a couple hours ago and neither you or her spoke a word about that.

A bit of clueless scrolling later you found yourself checking the score of the game that had been played a couple hours earlier, surprised at a certain 'Jessie Fleming' being on the scoresheet. You figured as much, but you were still taken aback when you looked her name up and saw the person you gave your spare tire to merely hours ago.

Your hands felt clammy all of a sudden, nerves spiking up about how you could approach this. You certainly wanted to hear of her again. Even though she said she owed you one, you figured that with a busy schedule, repaying you might not be on the top of her list.

A couple nervous minutes later, you had found Jessie's instagram. You scrolled through her posts, mindful not to like any posts or do anything that would give away that you were stalking her socials. As little as there was on the account, you could see a bit of personality seeping through. She clearly loved taking pictures, liked nature, seemingly had a dog and just seemed fun to be around. You rubbed one of your hands across your face, contemplating your options.

Jessie arrived home late that night, having stayed at Sinc's for dinner after the game. She parked her bike in the bike shed and quickly made her way upstairs, desperate to be enveloped in the warmth of her own home again. She unlocked the door and threw her keys in the basket on the counter. She took off her shoes and neatly put them in their place on the shoe rack, her slight clean-freak personality shining through once again.

She slumped down on the couch and turned on Netflix for her umpteenth rewatch of a brainless show, before grabbing her phone from her pocket. Her eyes grew wide at the top notifications.

Y/I/N started following you.

Y/I/N: So, a footballer huh? Nice one, Fleming ;)

A/N: I hate the use of Y/N but I couldn't really get around it this time lol

[dontsh0vethesun]

gabortz

masterlist

melissa schemmenti x reader

this is from a request; melissa had forgotten she'd invited janine and jacob for a cooking lesson and the pair of you have to hope they don't catch on to your relationship

brief kissing, just fluff and humour if you find it funny - if you don't find it funny then just pretend i never suggested there was humour involved <3

wc: 1.6k

Melissa drove you home from work, just as she always does; the sight of her behind the wheel will never fail to make you swoon, you’re sure. The way her hand finds its place on the headrest of your seat when she reverses from her favourite parking spot, and the way it sits comfortably on your thigh while your fingers play with the ends of her hair. Her hands grip the wheel in a way that mesmerises you, all thoughts on her rather than anything else. It’s a perfect way to de-stress after a chaotic day of work, though. 

And, after today, you needed the reprieve. Working with young children is never the easiest job but with more than one type of liquid spilt on your shirt and a friendship feud that you were left to resolve, keeping your attention on your girlfriend was more than necessary. 

“Oh my God, I’m exhausted,” you sighed when you could finally slump into your favourite spot on Melissa’s sofa. She looked at you with the soft smile she reserved for you, hanging up her jacket before taking up the place next to you. 

“I know, hon,” she breathed, pulling you into her side with an arm snaked over your shoulders. “But, it’s the weekend soon,” she added. 

“Mel, it’s Tuesday,” you returned through a pout, one that made her laugh against you. You felt her breath against your temple as well as her lips as she spoke. 

“I was trying to make you feel better,” she laughed with a shrug. “Why don’t you head up for a shower, and I can make us that pasta you like.”

“That sounds perfect,” you mumbled, uttering a whispered ‘I love you’ against her lips. Kissing her was something you could never grow tired of; it made you feel complete, worries of the day easily wiped clean with just the taste of her vanilla-flavoured lip balm. 

You never know quite how much time passes when her tongue slips into your mouth and her hands take claim of your waist. It all fades away with her, the auburn-haired enigma you’re so lucky to be loved by. And when it’s time to part for air, your head always swims.

“Go on, babe, I’ll leave your favourite hoodie out on the bed,” she spoke once she’d pulled away with pink-hued cheeks. 

You’d practically moved into her home with the way you comfortably make your way to the shower, sighing in relief under the hot water with the soap you always use gliding suds across your skin. Her wardrobe hung your clothes, ones you’d left behind over the months; they smelled just like her and sat on hangers mixed in with her own. 

Even on the occasional nights you spend at your own apartment, she leaves your side of the bed empty - and, of course, you only toss and turn, counting down the seconds until you’re back at each other’s sides. 

Once you’d dried your body on a towel she’d warmed for you, you pulled the hoodie over your head. The Eagles logo was faded from years of wear; it held remnants of her spiced perfume, and the small tear in the sleeve was just as familiar as the way the softness of the material fell against your back. 

Your steps faltered, however, once you’d begun your descent back downstairs. You heard the sound of two more voices that were certainly not present twenty minutes ago, and they seemed dreadfully familiar. 

“I’m so sorry, I totally spaced - I’ll make it up to you,” Melissa hurried out in a whisper as soon as you walked into the hallway. She’d pulled her hair back and changed into the denim shirt she looks so perfect in - you wished you could kiss her. 

“Oh my God!” Janine practically squealed as soon as you sauntered in; the two of you paused in your stride at her exclamation, immediately trying to conjure up counterarguments for any accusations that may be thrown your way. “I didn’t know you were coming too - this is so exciting,” she beamed. 

Melissa sometimes teases you for your significant soft spot for the overly joyful woman and she smirked at the way you returned her enthusiasm - partly due to the relief of your secret relationship with the woman not being aired out. 

“Yeah, Melissa let me tag along,” you shrugged with a smile that matched her own. “I got here a little early.”

“I was honestly so surprised she’d even let one of us into her house,” she added, quiet enough for Melissa to not hear. “She’s a softie under all that ‘I’m gonna give you a black eye, ya gabortz’ facade she puts on,” she added with an impression of Melissa you couldn’t help but laugh at. 

You appeased your girlfriend’s impending retaliation when she shot a glare in your direction, halting her with an amused smile and a shake of your head. 

“Yeah, she puts up somewhat of an…aggressive front,” you returned, smirking discreetly at the woman who stared at you incredulously, adding the next part in a whisper. “But she cares. And she cares a lot more about you than you might think.”

She didn’t question how you might know that as she was too busy bounding her way over to the others with a spring in her step and an antsiness in her demeanour that made it obvious she was forcing herself not to pull Melissa into a hug she would despise. 

“You best not be goin’ around ruinin’ my street cred,” you heard in your ear, muttered lowly with a teasing poke into your side whilst Jacob and Janine were sufficiently distracted with the task of chopping vegetables. 

“I think there’d have to be some there before it could be ruined,” you laughed, sauntering away from the glare she gave you. She tried to hide her smile, but you both knew her tough act had no effect on you whatsoever. 

The inquisitive pair only shared a brief look at the way the two of you easily manoeuvred around the kitchen; they put it down to a budding friendship in their hushed whispers. Or maybe you’re as much of an expert when it comes to cooking as the older woman. That must be why you so easily work around one another. Whatever quiet conclusions they thought of, they didn’t consider a romantic explanation for a second. 

You stepped past her to stir the pot of sauce as she instructed, and she was much less abrasive with her tuts of disapproval when anything was done outside of her expectations. The other teachers felt the brunt of her accusations of incompetence, but nobody batted an eyelid at her usual attitude. They both just smiled through it, happy just to have been invited. 

“Oh, I didn’t realise you were such a football fan,” Jacob mused, eyeing the team logo you were sporting as he helped dish the pasta into containers. Melissa had been gracious enough to offer a cooking lesson, but she couldn’t bear to let them stay to eat it, too. You could see the headache forming already. “Is that how you two became friends? I mean, you seem pretty comfortable around each other.”

“Yeah,” you nodded - hopefully convincingly. “I’m a big fan - go Eagles.” 

Melissa hid her laugh behind her hand at the less-than-excited fist pump you lifted into the air. The only knowledge of the sport you truly have is that your girlfriend loves it; you’ve picked up a minimal amount of technical jargon during her dramatically loud viewings on the TV, but you generally just watch it aimlessly. And in boredom that she would only tolerate if it was emitted by you. Countless naps have been interrupted by her explicit exclamations at the screen, angry mutters of profanities you’ve learned to just sleep through. 

“Heard they won a game the other night, you see it?” he questioned; it felt like you were in an interrogation and you were just waiting for Janine to step in as the role of good cop to his bad cop routine. You looked over to Melissa for confirmation, earning a nod in return - you vaguely remember falling asleep not long after her first groan of annoyance. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking back at the woman behind him to read her lips and hand movements telling you the score. “31-17, pretty exciting game.”

“Who were they playing against? I’m sure Zach told me, but y’know, I just tune him out a little and google it after.”

You had to hold your amusement back at the overt gestures being made by your girlfriend, trying to somehow telepathically understand what she was attempting to explain. With her arms flailing around and her mini game of charades depicting what you assume was ‘swimming’, you finally understood. 

“The dolphins,” you spoke, earning a thumbs up. “Miami Dolphins,” you added smugly. You do listen to Melissa when she rambles on about the games; you just forget most of it. “They better get rid of Johnson though, if they wanna up their game.”

Luckily, the conversation was soon steered elsewhere and not long after. the excitable teachers left, but not without Melissa having to dodge a hug or two. 

“You better hope Jacob doesn’t go around telling everyone about Johnson holding the Dolphins back,” she chuckled as soon as the front door closed behind her. 

“Why’s that?”

“Because he doesn’t exist, hon,” she laughed. “You and I both know you pulled that name outta thin air.”

You knew you flew a little too close to the sun with that one, though if it comes to it, you’ll both convince Jacob he misheard. 

“Can we just eat now?” you frowned, huffing with a faux glare whilst she continued to laugh at your expense. “I’m hungry, ya gabortz.”

“That girl knows, fully well, its gagootz,” she groaned. “She’s the gabortz.”

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

I’m not gonna lie… if there was a part to leave as my last one for a month… I’d choose this one. I hope y'all like it as much as I do! ❤️

Part 1 | . . . | Part 40 | Part 41 | Part 42

El watches the proceedings with wide eyes, and grips onto Steve’s hand the moment he’s close enough. “It’s time,” she says. She might be asking; she’s not quite sure.

Steve’s face falls. “Almost,” he agrees, pulling her into a hug. She goes gladly, tucking her face into his neck. “I think we’ve got one more day,” he murmurs, not letting go. “Are you up for some training today?”

She pulls back to look him in the eye. It’s the easiest way for her to make sure he’s telling the truth. “I will be stronger?”

“That’s the goal,” Steve nods. “I don’t know if it’ll work.”

El thinks about it, then nods. “I want to try.”

“M’kay. Have you eaten recently? Alli made some pretty great mac and cheese we can heat up, if you want it.”

El had mac and cheese before. It was cold, because she had to wait for Mike to bring it to her in the basement. The noodles were rubbery and the cheese didn’t taste good. She scrunches her nose, but Steve doesn’t look like he’s lying, so she relaxes her face and nods. “That would be good,” she tells him.

He smiles and ruffles the little bit of hair she has. “‘Course, El. I’m gonna heat this up, and while you eat, we can talk, okay?”

“Okay,” she answers, and watches as he puts some of the pasta into a bowl and sticks it into the microwave.

As it’s heating up, Steve turns to Eddie and Wayne. “Eddie, think you can bring him up to speed? We’ll be in the dining room if you have any questions.”

Eddie nods and waves his uncle out of the kitchen in the direction of the living room, already speaking faster than Eleven had thought possible.

When they’re both sitting at the table, her with a steaming bowl in front of her and a fork in hand, Steve starts talking. “First things first,” he says softly. “Eleven. That’s not your name; it was a number assigned to you.”

She perks up. “You know my name?”

Steve nods. “Jane.”

“Jane,” she tries out, then nods decisively. She likes it.

“So eleven. The number. That means there were at least ten others. We know Vecna, Henry Creel, is One. That leaves nine more.”

El shakes her head. She knows this. “They all died.”

Steve gives her a sad sort of smile. “Not all of them. You meet your sister, Kali. She’s number eight. She can make you believe you’re seeing something that isn’t there. She’s very powerful, and she taught you how she got that powerful.” He puts his fingertips together with his palms apart. It looks like a spider on a mirror, and El gets sidetracked for a moment by the image.

“What do you know about fairy tales?” Steve asks, and El blinks and chews the bite she’d just put in her mouth.

“They’re fake,” she eventually says. “Stories about things that never happened, that can’t ever happen.”

Steve smiles at her. “Yes, but there’s still lessons to be learned from them. Can I tell you my favorite version of a fairy tale called Sleeping Beauty?”

El perks up again. “I know that one! A witch curses the princess so she falls asleep forever until her true love finds her and kisses her.”

Steve nods. “That’s the most popular version,” he agrees, lips tilted up. “But that’s not my favorite.”

She tilts her head. “What is your favorite?”

He grins at her. “Once upon a time there was a princess. She was cursed, you got that right, but it wasn’t by a witch. It was by a fairy who hadn’t been invited to her first birthday, which is a very big deal when you’re a princess. So the fairy curses her to fall asleep—her and the rest of the kingdom—when she pricks her finger on a spinning wheel when she turns eighteen. Everything goes exactly as the fairy had said, and eighteen years after she casts the spell, the princess—Aurora—falls asleep, only to be woken by true love’s kiss. The fairy came to check on Aurora and found her sleeping, just as she’d planned. But something unexpected happened: the fairy felt compassion for her. She took to sitting by her bedside every day, waiting for the princess’s true love to appear. Finally one day she goes to leave and presses a kiss to Aurora’s forehead. Can you guess when happened?”

El frowns. “She woke up?”

“Exactly,” Steve nods. “She woke up because the fairy loved her. True love can come from anywhere. It doesn’t have to be romantic.” He takes one of El’s hands in his own and looks into her eyes. “Kali taught you to use your anger to get stronger. I want you to try to use love. It’s the one thing Henry Creel doesn’t have.”

El thinks about it. “I don’t have to kiss anyone.”

Steve chuckles. “No, you don’t have to kiss anyone. But you know me, right? You know Mike and Will and Dustin and Lucas. And you know Robin, Eddie, Nancy, and Jonathan, now, right?”

“Right,” El nods.

“And do you love any of us? Do you want us to stay safe?”

El thinks carefully about the question, then nods. “Like the fairy.”

Steve’s eyes crinkle as he grins at El. “Just like the fairy.”

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[joelswritingmistress]

Camp Crystal Lake: Chapter 10

Requested by @yellowjacketsbuzzbuzz

Joel Miller x f!reader (romance/horror)

Setting: Camp Crystal Lake

The reader is taking on the position of a camp counselor at the infamous Camp Crystal Lake. While she begins to enjoy her summer, even crushing on the camp director Joel, a killer lurks in the woods unbeknownst to anyone.

Hiking was liberating that morning. Everyone was together talking and laughing under the cover of the trees, and it was a great start to the day.

Joel turned and motioned to a tree with a small, blue streak on it. “This is the blue trail,” he explained, “It's the easiest one and goes right around the lake in a circle.”

“Are there any other trails?” Vicky asked.

“White and Red,” Joel replied, “White is a little off the beaten path, and Red is the toughest. Don't take the red with the kids because you don't want to end up lost.. or in a bed of poison ivy.”

“Are we going to check those out today?” Sandra asked him.

“If there's time maybe we’ll check out the white trail.”

I glanced out toward the lake as we hiked adjacent to it. The blue trail never lost sight of the water, so it truly was the safest bet. The last thing I wanted was to get lost in the endless collection of trees - so I figured going forward I'd just stick to the beginner paths.

“Hey look!” Scott motioned through the trees and all of us stopped to see what had caught his attention.

“Tell me it's not a bear,” Teri groaned.

“No, look.” Scott continued to point, “The old cabins.”

“Camp Blood,” Mark spoke, glancing over his shoulder at Joel as he helped to wheel him over the uneven landscape.

“We're all going to get hauled in by the local police,” Ted joked.

“Just keep moving,” Joel urged. “I understand the urge to go over there but it's off limits for a reason.”

“You don't really believe in those Jason stories do you?” Jeff asked him.

“I don't believe Jason is alive, no,” Joel said, “But those cabins are decades old and haven't been maintained. The last thing you want is to be inside and the roof caves in.”

“What about outside,” Sandra asked, to which he just gave her a look of disapproval. “Okay, okay. We understand. Off limits.”

“Thank you,” Joel continued to lead the way and when he huffed a breath, Vicky offered to jump in and help Mark.

“I can take over,” she offered.

“You sure?” Joel asked.

She nodded and shared a smile with Mark. The red football jersey he wore sparked her interest and they began talking about his college football career he’d had prior to a motorcycle accident that left him in the wheelchair.

I eavesdropped a bit, feeling a bit melancholy for the way things had panned out for Mark; though his optimism regarding the situation almost immediately made me feel better. When he and Vicky shared a little hand squeeze I turned my attention elsewhere.

“Hey.” Joel slunk in beside me and we dropped to the back of the pack.

“Hey.” I smiled at him.

“You, uh.. you okay with everything that happened?” He asked quietly.

“I'm so okay with it that I wouldn't mind doing it again.”

Joel laughed quietly and eyed another blue streak on a tree as we continued to walk. “I think I can arrange something for when we get back.”

“Oh yeah?” He had my full attention now.

“Yeah.” His hand discreetly rested on my lower back and I felt a rush of adrenaline.

I bit my bottom lip and leaned into him for a moment, smirking when his hand gave my butt a squeeze and he kissed my temple. We parted from one another immediately after. From that small interaction, my world suddenly got a little brighter - and I was already in a great mood. The whole ordeal was so out of character for me but I was loving every minute of it.

On the walk back, Joel led us through a shortcut that led up to the mess hall.

“I wonder if Annie’s back yet,” he said aloud, wiggling the door handles that led inside. When he saw they were secured and nothing looked out of place, we continued on our walk back to the main cabin.

My eyes landed on a sheet of white paper by the edge of the woods and I saw a list of different foods printed inside of a spreadsheet. I was tempted to retrieve it but as the group kept pace, I chose not to stop.

“Okay,” Joel said, putting his hands together. He turned to face us when we were nearly back, “Get yourself something to drink or a little snack and I’ll get us down to the camper cabins with some paint. I’m putting two per cabin for now and we’ll see how it goes.”

“Yes, boss,” Ted said for all of us and led the way into the main cabin to retrieve some water. After a few short minutes we made the short trek through a path in the woods that led to a collection of cabins that were centered by a pair of sand volleyball courts. Joel’s pickup truck was already parked nearby and he was lugging ladders and paint cans to each of them.

“Chipmunk Bunk,” Scott read aloud as he placed a hand on the chipped, green siding.

“You and Mark can have the Chipmunks,” Joel said to him with a nod as he heaved a ladder against the side of the house.

“Chipmunks!” Mark pumped his fist.

Jeff draped an arm around Sandra's shoulders. “We can take the, uh..” he squinted his eyes until he could make out the next cabin’s wooden label. “.. The Bear Cave.”

Joel nodded. “You can work together if you promise not to wander off to Camp Blood.”

Jeff crossed his heart and Sandra put up her hand with a nod. “Promise,” they said at the same time.

“Okay.” Joel nodded and I smiled to myself when he assigned Teri and Vicky to The Fox Hole.

And then there was me.. and him.

Joel held out a hand and maintained eye contact. “Would you accompany me to The Wolf Den?”

I looked around the immediate area and smiled back at him. I placed my hand into his. “I'd be honored.”

Joel didn't waste time playfully towing me in through the cabin’s screen door. Our lips were locked the second the door slammed behind us and my shirt was thrust up over my head a second later.

“Mmm..” I moaned into his mouth when my back hit the linens of a twin bed.

“I just can't get enough of you.” Joel breathed out the words as he took a break from kissing me to take a breath.

“And the summer has barely even started,” I whispered back, accepting another intense kiss as his hand sank below the waistline of my shorts. I took a deep breath, but my lip and closed my eyes.

“Go!” I heard the word from a vaguely familiar voice outside, followed by another very familiar voice shouting, “Joeeeel.” It didn't seem overly urgent but urgent enough.

Joel stopped and pushed up onto his hands as he hovered above me. His expression was instantly bothered and as he shook his head, his eyes closed.

“What is it?” I asked quietly with a hand still snaked around his shoulders. I heard Jeff’s voice summoning Joel a second time and then a series of endless babbling from the other voice.

“It's fucking Ralph.” He climbed off of me and got himself together. “I'll be right back.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@gissellec1 @cattt777 @mellymbee @armybts20137 @bbiophiliaa @littleblackcatinwonderland @mermaidgirl30 @brittmb115 @yellowjacketsbuzzbuzz @beltzboys2015-blog @lwfics @pedropascal111 @itscatrodriguez-thepearl

[kiddbegins]

Texting - Matt Casey

Requested: yes

Word count: 436

A/n: sorry it’s tiny but I think it’s cute

Masterlist

Texting you cheesy things that they know will make you blush while you’re at work (engaged - doctor at med)

If there was one thing that Matt Casey was, it was a love struck doofus. He always gave his all to those he loved. You were no different.

The problem though was the conflict of shifts. His 24 hours along with your daily 12’s. It wasn’t the easiest thing to make work.

But you guys did. And now you were engaged and you were truly over the moon about it. The ring had picked out was perfect and if you didn’t know better you’d say he had it made custom.

Today you were at work, him simultaneously on shift in the middle of the crazy snow storm that was going on outside.

Winter always made you worry more and he knew that, so his slew of texts when he had the chance grew tenfold. Which you barely knew was possible.

‘I really can not wait for this shift to be over. I miss you.’

Your smile was wide as you read over the text from Matt, knowing this small breather at the vending machine was probably one of the few you’d gotten this shift, winter meant idiots driving stupidly in the snow and getting hurt.

It had been hell, helping patients left and right, barely any time to breathe. You sent out a brief reply ‘same here. I miss you too :(‘ before having to go back to work.

You felt the buzz of your phone in your coat pocket a while later, Maggie telling you about something that had to do with a patient that swirled in one ear and out the other as you read over yet another text from Matt.

‘It’s freezing but it’s getting closer to see you. Thought about what we should do yet? ;)’

A light blush crossed your cheeks as you stuffed the device away, turning to go to the patient but of course being cornered by said nurse.

“God that boy has you whipped as hell doesn’t he,” Maggie had nudged your side as you tried to hide the tinge to your face.

It was useless of course, especially with her. “He does not. I’m just happy to be marrying someone that I love, okay?” You said defensively, laughing at the end.

Those that knew you, knew the story of your ex and how horribly that ended. So the fact you found yourself a big, strong firefighter to get over them had all of them clapping their hands together.

Maggie hummed, nodding, “Uh-huh, and that love has you whipped. Incoming, you’re going to Baghdad.” She switched to instructor mode swiftly as her device beeped, the patient wheeling in seconds later.

JOIN MATTS TAGLIST HERE!

tags: @winchesterszvonecek, @halsteadbrasil, @wnbweasley, @firetruckstuckley

[beeebird]

Uncleared bug

（Wreck-It Ralph AU）(What follows is a super long introduction…) (To put it simply, this is a story about a ghost.)

_________________________________________

(Background Premise)

In the years following the events of Sugar Rush (the plot of the movie), word that Turbo had survived the previous accident and had been lurking in Sugar Rush quickly spread to Game Central Station. The characters are shocked that Turbo survived, and glad that he is now dead. ... But is he?

Game companies never miss a good opportunity to continue making money. Of course, they had no idea that their character would murder another character. ... In short, a new TurboTime series of games has been launched. Cutting-edge 3D technology, a sequel to an old game - a well-run arcade has no reason not to buy this new arcade. So a brand new TurboTime game was plugged in.

New Turbo, and the twins, Drift, and Set arrive at Game Central Station. (There are other roles, if needed).

On the surface, at least, their appearance is very different from the appearance in the old series of TurboTime. And in character... well, Turbo is still the same cocky, attention-obsessed, over-conquering, annoying guy. The characters in the arcade game hid from the new series their previous accidents due to the old Turbo. And at the same time try to be friendly to them in the new series. But the previous accident had left a bad impression of Turbo in their minds. Naturally, the new Turbo was not welcomed by Game Central Station. (The twins, on the other hand, are constantly being looked at in the "poor guy" way, which is strange to them.)

Unaware of the tragic events that had taken place in the arcade, New Turbo assumed that the characters were simply rejecting him because he was the new guy. So he was determined to prove himself. Well, if you want to prove yourself worthy of affection. The easiest way is to challenge someone to prove themselves better - and that person is Vanellope. (" I must be a better driver than a little girl!" He said so at the time). It's a pretty embarrassing situation.

But all in all, Vanellope is friendly because "well, it wasn't the new guy who made the mistake, so maybe he's a good guy?" The idea agreed to the friendly match.

The day of the race went well. Turbo doesn't mind being stared at by candy residents. All he cares about now is the next game.

Start the engine and hit the gas as hard as you can. Turn the wheel, don't be pulled by centrifugal force... Pay attention. It's just a simple friendly match with a little girl from the candy world. Turbo thought. Until their go-kart made it all the way to Rainbow Cave (if that's what you can call it). As he rushed out of the tunnel, Turbo suddenly felt a strong sense of dizziness, and it seemed that he saw some red and white figure. Although he quickly shook off this sudden discomfort, he was thus overtaken by Vanellope.

Even if the game ends in a draw. Turbo still felt bad, physically and psychologically. His head has been aching ever since he felt a sudden dizziness at the mouth of the tunnel, like something was... Pull his code. "Maybe it's just the bright colors of the candy world that make me dizzy," he thought. So Turbo found an excuse to go back to his game and rest.

Back in his lounge, Turbo felt restless. Yes - that was a "draw," but it still pissed him off. He should be better than all the racers, not some "draw". Even more unbearable than the frustration of failure (which he thought he was) was the growing headache, the tearing of the code in his body that challenged his endurance all the time. "damnit, I really need to calm down and rest right now..." 'he thought.

In the bathroom, the cold water on the face temporarily relieved the headache. But a ringing in his ears put Turbo back into a trance. He's in a weird state today. What's going on? He held the edge of the sink trembling, trying to suppress the queasy feeling in his throat. Then he looked up ——

... Suddenly, the red-and-white figure he had seen vaguely as he walked through the tunnel appeared in the bathroom mirror. "Do you want to win?" The figure whispered. In a trance,

Turbo thought he must be crazy.

[crescentblossom66]

Prompt 2: Italia

All was going according to plan for once. His men were out and about subduing the locals, the fish deliveries came in time, and he had the kitchen for himself. Normally, the other Mafia were cooking food, but today, he felt like actually making something himself. The boss of the Mafia put off his red jacket and hung it over a chair, washing his hands after while humming a little song to himself. As he looked around the kitchen, he thought about what he should cook today and a bag of noodles caught his eye. Spaghetti Bolognese! That was a great dish he could prepare for the whole of the Mafia. Every once in a while, he felt like he had to make sure that his goons knew that he was the best chef among them...he totally didn't do it because he could be nice occasionally.

He boiled the long and thin noodles in a huge pot while he prepared the red sauce just like his mother had taught him many years ago...he wondered how she was doing now, if she even remembered him after he had left to explore and find better places to live in. One day, they'd bring the family they had left behind in that town near the factory over to Mafia Town. He could only imagine the happy smile of the kids and the women once they cast their eyes on this beautiful little island.

The leader of the Mafia got so distracted by his thoughts that he nearly forgot to stir the tomato sauce, almost burning it in the process. He sighed in relief when he managed to avoid the disaster, he was sure that everyone would laugh if their great leader served burned sauce. He added oregano, thyme, and basil to the sauce while preparing the meatballs separately. As he chopped some onions and bell peppers for the sauce, he thought about how the food his goons prepared suddenly got a lot better as soon as they arrived on the island. Whenever he walked by the kitchen, the stench was horrible, yet the actually served food was incredibly tasty...He really had to step up his game to not fall behind.

After making sure that the spaghetti were boiled to perfection, he tried one, being satisfied with the results. When he stood in front of the two huge pots, one with the spaghetti and one with the bolognese sauce, the boss of the Mafia contemplated how best to served the dish. He found it best to just bring plates and forks to the lobby of the HQ so that everyone could get a serving the easiest. A nagging feeling of something missing made him narrow his eyes at his dish again, and he nearly yelled in frustration as he realized that the Parmesan cheese was missing. How could he forget something so important!? He rummaged through the whole kitchen, looking for the huge cheese wheel that he had taken with him from their former homeland. It was nowhere to be found! While the Mafia Boss kicked a stove in his frustration, letting out a loud 'OW!' as his foot made contact with steel, a young girl dressed in red hid on the wooden boards that supported the ceiling, snickering as she looked down at the frustrated man, holding the very thing he was looking for in her hands.

In the end, he had to bring the spaghetti and the sauce outside to the lobby without the cheese, feeling angry and a bit frustrated that the important ingredient was nowhere to be found. As the food would get cold if he waited too long, he had no choice but to call his men to the lobby to eat, when he returned, he was surprised to find Parmesan cheese on a tray next to his two pots and the plates. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something orange and white scamper upward toward the floorboards of the ceiling, but he shrugged it off as a hallucination.

[quotesfrommyreading]

Diodorus Siculus spent much of his life describing major historical events such as the fall of Troy or the rise of Alexander the Great. But, sometime in the middle of the first century BC, the Sicilian-born Greek writer felt moved to address a contemporary issue that had captured his attention: the drinking habits of the Gauls, the Celtic people who occupied modern-day France at this time.

The Gauls were, he observed, excessively fond of wine, so much so that they usually drank it neat and often went into battle inebriated. In Siculus’s eyes, this love of the grape not only betrayed the Gauls’ lack of breeding (a civilised Roman would always dilute his wine), it also left them open to exploitation by canny Roman traders.

“Many Italian merchants, with their usual passion for money, look on the Gallic craving for wine as their treasure,” he wrote. “They transport the wine by boat on the navigable rivers and by wagon through the plains, and receive in return for it an incredibly high price.” Then, with thinly veiled incredulity, Siculus added: “For an amphora [a wheel-thrown terracotta container that typically held around 20 litres of liquid] of wine they get in return a slave – a servant in exchange for a drink!”

It will come as a shock to absolutely no one to learn that human beings were every bit as likely to succumb to the temptations of drink 2,000 years ago as they are today. What many people will find more surprising about Siculus’s words, however, is the picture they paint of relations between the Romans and their Celtic neighbours – one in which the two peoples were engaging in trade, rather than hacking each other to pieces.

In the popular imagination, the Celtic-speaking people of western Europe were constantly at war with the Romans. The truth was very different. There were battles, of course, and the relationship would eventually end in bloodshed and subjugation after Julius Caesar launched his campaigns of conquest in Gaul in 58 BC. But the violence was preceded by long periods of peace and collaboration, and that collaboration benefited both parties.

Siculus clearly thought that the Gauls were being duped by wily Roman traders. After all, in Rome a Gaulish slave would fetch five or six times the price they could command at home. But Siculus was missing the point. In Gaul, slaves were available in surplus, a result of raiding between rival tribes. Once an external market developed for slaves, raiding could be intensified to satisfy the demand. A Gaulish leader could then offload surplus slaves in return for Roman wine that, distributed to his followers, would greatly enhance his status. For the chief, then, it was a very good deal indeed.

The Roman merchants were also doing very nicely out of their trading links with the Gauls. By the late second century BC, the Roman economy was changing dramatically. Small farms were being bought up and merged into vast estates run for their aristocratic owners by managers commanding armies of slave workers. The easiest commodity to produce on the slave-manned farms was wine. But as the estates grew and became more reliant on grape monoculture, wine production began to outstrip Italian demand. For the estates in western Italy, the solution to the problem was simply to ship the surplus to the major ports of southern Gaul – Massalia (Marseilles) and Narbo (Narbonne) – where middlemen were ready to transport it to the Gauls. The slaves acquired in return were brought back to labour on the estates. It was a system that benefited everyone – except, of course, the slaves.

  —  The Celts: were they friends or foes of the Romans?

[mla0]

Relistened to Tape 3 today (Mostly focusing on writing notes on [SHOT IN THE DARK] and [TOWER ON THE LAKE]) and man... I love the Princeton tapes they're so underrated. It's not just like. Interesting stuff with the main EMH guys but there's so much neat stuff like Roger and Patrick's presence. How frantic Patrick is in SITD is so interesting especially when you get to TOTL and he's like. hacking and coughing and clearly not ok but his actual tone is so much more chilled out. What the hell was happening to him. I also just love the aspect of Patrick's character it shows. Like. I feel like it's a more genuine version of him we don't really otherwise get to see.

Lines that are always incredibly interesting to me: "You’re not even a part of a game of chess, you’re just a-a-a fuckin' route in a game of Settlers of Catan, or some shit, I dunno, man." (This one activates my board game sleeper agent(It's the exact same as normal me but I'm way overeager to rope someone into a game of Catan)) "I guess that’s what makes us different. You’re efficient. I mean, it’s probably too good for your own safety, honestly. A squeaky wheel gets the grease, to a certain extent, I guess." "he other one told you- you- He said you had a sister, right? I had a brother, too. [Pause.] Meet ‘em, Vin. Another you did, in another time. He had, has, he will have...siblings. He will, eventually. But you're gonna fuck up every single time and they’re gonna die. [Pause.] And every time, you just have to figure out how to not take it personally." (This one kills me.) 'I dunno man, I’m kinda jealous of you. It frustrates the fuck out of me I remember everything, and I don’t get this kinda treatment but, you… You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for." "Fuck, man, I would be lying if I said I didn’t admire you trying." "Look, the only reason I even reached out is... I guess to try and push the wheel a little further. You’re doin’ well, man, and god damn, you are... not gonna make it out of this, and that’s a bummer. But you might, eventually. I feel a desperation and... I felt the solidarity, so... [He sighs.] 

Good luck, man. I mean that. I’ll s- I’ll see you around the bend." (This one also kills me. I eat up any concept of solidarity when it comes to the slenderverse it is the easiest way to make me writhe around in the dirt and scream (positive))

WAUUUUUUGH. I AM SO SAD FOR HIM but I love him so much. The tragedy of the Princeton tapes.....

[weirddayz101]

Rage ride or suicide mission?

It's a weird world. Where basically you can be upset and go on a simple fucking drive to solve some kind of soul searching, but today was different. Small issues in my home life cause me to be on a downward spiral. First 20 minutes of my ride were cool calm and collected. Blasting Deftones-Change while the rage of the day built up inside me. Slowly feeling myself become either on the rage side or upset side. Couldn't really tell quite at this point. I hit exit for Wade Green and i literally felt the rage building. I keep taking turns and enjoying the feeling of it burn through my veins. A little further into my ride i feel the burning intensify worse than i've ever felt. I immediately start crying. It was a weird mix of emotions that i've never felt. Before i knew it, I started turning on roads i knew had the curviest turns and decent amount of traffic. I had some level of consciousness until i hit a turn and felt an emotional blackout. I was crying so hard at that point that i couldn't see along with my mind racing from blacking out from any kind of normal thinking. As i am racing down Harmony Grove Rd, one of the curviest roads from Bartow to Paulding county i felt myself loosing grip on the wheel. I couldn't tell if it was some kind of troubled 13 year old in me that knew what the easiest was to no pain was or if i was serious. I cannot believe i was so close to death. I called my childhood best friend due to me quite literally scaring my partially conscious side. I swerved when i answered due to not being clear on my intentions of the call. I swear somewhere deep inside i wanted to crash. Subconsciously, i wanted to. I wasn't sure, but maybe.

[darkcavewriting]

Day 12

I woke up to Sara shaking my shoulder.  I had crashed hard last night.  She was already up and getting ready to head to work for the first time in over a week.  I on the other hand needed to make the 30 minute drive back down to Cheney to my dorm at Eastern Washington and then see what sort of paperwork I needed to file and with whom.  

“There is coffee in the pot for you, help yourself to anything you want for breakfast,” she said.  “There is an extra key next to the coffee, go ahead and keep that so you can lock the door when you leave.”

“Do you want me to put it under the door mat or anything?” I asked.

“Nope, it is yours to keep in case you need to come back for anything, or if you just want to come up and visit before I likely take off to Portland.”

“Sounds good, thank you,” I said.  “Have a good day at work, and I will let you know how everything goes with stuff at Eastern.”

“Sounds good, I will expect to hear from you tonight,” she said.

With that she headed out the front door, and I headed off to take a shower.  Partially because I was dirty, and partially because I was hopeful that it would wake me up.  I felt incredibly tired still, even though I easily got over nine hours of sleep last night.  There was no way I should still feel as tired as I was after getting so much sleep. 

The shower, coffee, and a frozen breakfast sandwich helped me to feel a bit more alive.  Then it was time to get in my car and drive down to Cheney.  I was hopeful that it would even start after sitting for as long as it had.  It wasn’t exactly the most reliable some days.  I didn’t want today to be one of the days that it caused me issues.  

Heading out to the driveway with my bag, I tossed it in the back seat and got behind the wheel.  The car managed to start on the second time.  That was about normal for it.  Getting on the road wasn’t something I wanted to do but it was something I clearly needed to do.  I was still feeling rather nervous about everything back in Cheney.  I didn’t know if I should be, but at this point I couldn’t help it.  There was so much uncertainty right now for me I didn’t know what to expect once I got back there.  I was hopeful that the university hadn’t made any sort of decision to kick me out of the dorms or anything.  All of the bills had been paid so I didn’t think that would be an issue.  

The drive back town to Cheney was a bit stressful for me.  There was a good bit of wind and I struggled at times to keep my car in the lane.  One issue with having a car that was so damn light.  It wasn’t always the easiest to keep under control.  Still, I made it back to Cheney in decent time, pulled my car into the lot by my dorm, and headed upstairs with my bag over my shoulder.  I texted Sara to let her know that I made it back to my dorm safely.  I still hadn’t heard from Grace or Elizabeth and at this point I wasn’t holding out a whole lot of hope that I would.  I didn’t really care all that much either.  I barely knew them, and with all that was going on with me right now, they weren’t exactly any sort of a priority either.  I knew I needed to focus more on myself, on everything in Portland, and on my mental health, than I needed to on somebody new who would likely just be a distraction to me.  I had been thinking on the drive yesterday that I would be better off putting any effort into anything into things with Eva, even if she was off in Minnesota.  She at least knew me, knew my parents, and knew all of the situation.  There wasn’t any of the getting to know each other nonsense with her, she already knew everything.  I didn’t know if that was what I was going to do, but in my mind right now it seemed more practical than anything.

The elevator dropped me off down the hall from my room.  There was an envelope taped to the door.  I took it off, and unlocked my door and walked in.  There was another envelope under the door as well.  I tossed my bag on the bed and opened the letters.  They were identical, which was going to save me a little time.  The letter outlined what steps I needed to take in order to not have to attend classes this term.  It appeared as though my RA had taken what I had told him and then alerted whatever department was in charge of all this.  It looked like it was going to be a far easier process than I had anticipated.  All I was going to need to do was go to both the housing department office, as well as admissions and present a copy of the death certificate, sign some papers, and I wouldn’t have to worry about anything for the term.  It also stated that whatever fees I had already paid for classes would be refunded.  Hard to go wrong with that.

Before I headed to those offices though, I knew I wanted some more coffee.  I didn’t get much from Sara’s this morning.  She didn’t leave a whole lot in the pot, and I didn’t want to bother to make more, knowing that I had more in my dorm waiting for me.  I grabbed the carafe and wandered down the hall to the restroom to fill it with water.  I had a few people give me strange looks as I walked past.  Not being in the dorm the last week and a half it was obvious that nobody really knew who I was.  It didn’t help that I didn’t make it to any of the get to know your neighbor events because I was either in Spokane or back in Portland.  Maybe now that I was back I should make some sort of effort to try and get to know other people in my dorm, especially if I wasn’t going to be in any classes.  Needless to say I was going to have a lot of time on my hands, so least I could do was try to be social with people.

With coffee made, and in my travel mug, I felt it was alright time to head down to the admissions office with the letter and a copy of the death certificates.  The letter made it sound like I would need to go there first, and then show whatever documents I got from them to the housing office, and then I would be good to go for the term.

Walking across campus I was in a bit of a haze still.  Coffee was at least tasting good.  There was a couple people ahead of me at the admissions office so I waited in line sipping my coffee.  When it was finally my turn at the front of the line I walked up to the counter and showed the man there the letter.  He picked up his phone and called someone to come out and speak with me.  He motioned for me to wait by a door 20 feet away.  I headed over that way and waited.  It took a couple minutes before a woman came out, greeted me, and motioned for me to follow her.  I went back through the door behind her and followed her down a series of hallways to her office.  

“So, Kenrick, I hear that you recently lost your parents,” she said.

“Yes, got the call the first full day I was here,” I said.  “Right after I got back to my room from orientation.”

“That is terrible,” she said.  “I am so sorry for your loss, I see you have the letter we dropped off at your dorm thanks to your RA.”

“Yes, I found two copies of it when I got back here this morning,” I said.

“Got back here?” she asked.

“Yes, I went home to Portland for the funeral and everything,” I said.

“Well, welcome back to Eastern,” she said.  “Your RA told the housing department what was going on, who in turn alerted us, hence the letters, and you being here now.”

“Yes, I presumed that was what had happened,” I said.  “Now before I left for Portland, my RA was saying something about being able to possibly not take classes this term due to the deaths?”

“Yes that is correct,” she said.  “Do you have copies of the death certificates by chance?”

“Yes, of course,” I said as I handed them over.

“Do you mind if I go make copies of these?” she asked.

“No, not at all,” I said.  “Do you need the originals?”

“Nope, a copy will be sufficient, back in a moment,” she said.

This was all going far easier than I had anticipated and that was about all I could hope for given how stressful this last week plus had been.  I was unsure what I would do with all of my free time if I wasn’t taking classes.  As I was thinking about all this, she walked back into her office.

“Here are the certificates,” she said.  “Now, let me tell you how things will work.”

“How all what will work?” I asked.

“Well, everything really,” she replied.  “I will submit the paperwork which will withdraw you from classes for this term, a refund check will be issued to you for all of your tuition, as well as a partial refund on your housing just to make sure that everything is okay with you financially.”

“Thank you, very much,” I said.  “I really appreciate how easy all of this has been, what will I have to do come next term?”

“Next term you should be able to log in and sign up for classes same as you did for this term, there shouldn’t be any issues,” she said.  “If there are though, come see me immediately alright?”

“Of course, thank you, I will be sure to do that,” I said.  “Is there anything else that I need to do with any of this?”

“No, but I would recommend that you take advantage of the counseling services offered here given what you have been through,” she said.  

“Thank you, I intend to,” I said.  “I feel that will be quite helpful to me, or at least worth giving it a go.”

“Well, thank you for coming in so quickly, if there are any issues with anything at all, please reach out to me, here is my card,” she said as she handed me her business card.

“I will, thank you,” I said as I left her office and headed back outdoors.  

Now that I didn’t have classes I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do with myself.  I knew that was going to be a possible issue for me.  Too much time on my hands, which, I didn’t know how bad of a thing that was going to be, but here I was.  I headed back to my dorm, I didn’t have any better idea of anything to do, plus I could stand to unpack my bag from the trip home to Portland.  It wasn’t something that had to be done but I knew it was something that I should do, if anything so I didn’t have to deal with it later.  I was tired as hell, but relieved to have all of that taken care of.  It was nice to know that I wasn’t going to have to worry about classes for this term.  Of course that could make going into classes next term a bit more difficult but I would deal with that when the time came.  Still a few months off.  

Back in the dorm, taking care of all that, and knowing I was going to need to do laundry and any number of other things.  I also called my grandparents, who were still at my home back in Portland.  They were there trying to get stuff situated, cleaning out the kitchen, either tossing food out or sorting out what all they could take home back to Port Townsend.  Not having any idea when my aunt would be moving there, presuming that she actually did.  They were glad to hear that I was going to be able to take the term off.  It looked like it was going to be a good thing for me being able to be able to try and focus on what happened and to feel better, instead of trying to focus on classes instead.  I knew I would have a hell of a hard time focusing on much of anything and I sure as hell didn’t need to be starting off my university career doing horribly.  I was just hopeful that the classes I wanted were going to be offered next term as well.  If not, well, I would figure something out.

I did my best to relax in my room the rest of the morning.  I didn’t have anything I needed to do, I didn’t feel like going and doing anything either.  I knew I was going to have to go to the dining hall to get some food though at some point, as well as making it to a store to get some food and stuff for my room.  I hadn’t had a chance to make it out to a store before everything happened.  I should have hit a store in Spokane.  There would have been more variety for places to go.  Out here in Cheney it looked to be pretty limited.  Who knows maybe I would make another drive back to Spokane today or tomorrow for stuff.  All depended on how I felt I presumed.

When I finally decided to head down to go get lunch at the dining hall, I wandered down tot he elevator, pressed the down button and got on.  The elevator stopped at the next floor down, and on got Grace and Elizabeth.  I hadn’t heard from either of them since my first couple days back in Portland.  

I felt rather awkward when they walked into the elevator.  Not having heard from them, Grace specifically, since shortly after I arrived back in Portland, I wasn’t expecting much in the way of acknowledgment from them at all.  That however wasn’t to be the case.

“Kenrick!” exclaimed Grace as she ran towards me in the back of the elevator as she gave me a big bug.  “When did you get back in town?”

“A couple hours ago,” I said.  “I had a meeting with someone in admissions right after I arrived back here, sorry for not letting you know I was back.”

“No need to apologize at all, I know how hectic everything has been for you since you got here,” said Grace.  “I’m sorry I didn’t message you that much when you were back in Portland, I knew you were likely going to be super busy, and I didn’t want to come across as overwhelming or anything.”

“It’s alright,” I said as the elevator doors closed and we started to move down.  “I honestly kind of presumed you just got bored and didn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

“I’m so sorry I made you feel that way,” said Grace.  “That couldn’t be further than the truth, where are you headed now?”

“I was going to head to the dining hall to get some lunch, I haven’t eaten since early this morning at my aunts house in Spokane,” I said.

“That is where we are heading too,” said Elizabeth.  “Want to eat with us?”

“Sure, that sounds nice,” I said.

We all walked together to the dining hall which wasn’t that far away from our dorm.  There was a lot of choices for food, and we opted for the main dining hall instead of any of the smaller food court restaurants.  All three of us got trays that were heaping with food.  We made our way into the seating area and found a little alcove tucked away that didn’t have anybody else sitting in it, sat down in a booth and began to eat and talk.

“So, I won’t be taking any classes this term,” I said.

“You won’t?” asked Grace.  “How can you do that?”

“Well, thanks to my RA I found out about it, and he put in paperwork on my behalf while I was away in Portland,” I said.  “Basically due to the loss of my parents, it allows me to take the term off with no penalty, and allows me to stay in the dorms with no issues even without being in classes.”

“Well that sounds like a really good idea for you,” said Elizabeth.  “I can’t imagine trying to take classes and just being able to focus on anything, this at least gives you a few months, through the end of the year to try and get yourself in a better place mentally before you have to worry about classes and stuff in January.”

“I agree, being able to have this sort of time off, the ability to take advantage of the counseling services here as well, should be beneficial to me,” I said.  “Also I have no idea how many trips back home to Portland I am going to need to make to help deal with stuff either, so I have a feeling these next few months are going to be rather busy for me even without classes to attend.”

“If I can ask, what is happening with your parent’s stuff,” asked Grace.

“Well, most everything goes to me, a few things went to certain family members, but the house and such all go to me as part of a trust, which I can’t fully access till I am in my mid 30’s,” I said.  “I won’t exactly have to worry about money though, at least when it comes to tuition and school expenses, but at some point I should probably try and find a job on campus or whatnot to just have some extra money.”

“It sounds like your parents had everything pretty planned out,” said Grace. 

“They did, which was good, especially as large as the extended family is, but overall it all went well, or at least as well as it could have,” I said.  “The part of the family that lives in Wales all made it over, as well as my parent’s other siblings and whatnot, even my ex-girlfriend made it out from Minnesota to attend.”

“You dated a girl in Minnesota?” asked Grace.

“No, no, she went to school with me in Portland, but she is going to school at the University of Minnesota, on a hockey scholarship, she and I played on the same line for a couple years on our high school hockey team, she won us the state championship with a hat trick in the state final,” I said.

“You played hockey?” the both asked at the same time.

“Yup, I was a left winger on my high school team, had pretty decent stats but didn’t get any college offers to play anywhere,” I said.  “One school back east in New York said they would offer me a scholarship but I never heard a word from them.”

“You know Eastern has a club team right?” asked Elizabeth.

“They do?” I asked.  “I didn’t know about that, it was never mentioned when I was here for the campus tour a couple years ago, where do they play?”

“Right there,” said Grace as she pointed out the window.  “The University Recreation Center, it just was completed this last summer.”

“Interesting, and you say they have a club team?” I asked.

“Yes, and intramural hockey as well from what I have heard,” said Elizabeth.

“Well then, I guess I might need to try and see who I need to get in contact with to play,” I said.  “Of course, all my gear is back in Portland.”

“Well, if you want to make a weekend trip to go pick it up, I don’t think we would mind going with you if you wanted,” said Grace.

“Oh yeah?” I asked.  “I wouldn’t be opposed to that I feel, although, three of us in the car plus all my gear could be a tight fit.”

“I am sure we could make it work,” said Elizabeth.  “We haven’t been to Portland before, or at least I haven’t, have you Grace?”

“I think when I was really young I had been there on the way somewhere else but I don’t remember any of it,” said Grace.  “I would love to be able to go back and actually see things.”

“Well, I will see what works for me and if I do end up going back for that some weekend I will be sure to let you know to see if we can all go together,” I said.  

We all finished eating, and headed back to the dorm.  Grace said she had a class shortly, and Elizabeth said she had a couple later in the afternoon and evening.  I told them I would be around, likely just in my room, as they got off the elevator at their floor.

Back in my room I didn’t know what to do.  It was a bit of a strange situation like this.  There was nothing I had to do, no classes, no deadlines, no practices to worry about, no nothing, and with that I didn’t know what to do with my time.  Even in summer when I was off from school there were still things I had to worry about or do.  Now, there was nothing and it wasn’t going to be easy for me.  I had to make some sort of a plan and try and stick with it.  I really hoped I didn’t end up getting a roommate at some point during the term, that would end up being a bit difficult on me I thought.

I ended up taking care of some of what I needed to do, laundry, calling the counseling center to schedule an appointment, and went to pick up my ticket to the football game this week.  The Eagles were home to take on Western Washington University.  In a couple weeks they were playing back in Portland against Portland State and I thought that weekend could be a good one to go back and pick up my hockey gear and maybe tie it in to going to the game as well.  Still had some time to sort that out though.  Hockey season was going to be starting soon in Spokane, so that was something else to be looking forward to.  I didn’t know how often I was going to want to make that drive up to Spokane though for hockey, especially in the winter.  That drive in the snow and possible ice, in the dark, did not seem like it would be that enjoyable.  Also, if Aunt Sara ended up moving to Portland I couldn’t try and crash on the couch at her place after a game either, which would make things a bit easier.

Lots to consider that was for sure.  I wondered what I should do here in the dorm.  Now that I was back, and I hadn’t really met anyone, I wondered if it would be smart of me to keep my dorm room open at times to see if I could meet anyone else or not.  It would be nice to know some more people in the dorm besides Grace and Elizabeth but at the same time, how many questions did I really want about where I had been and why I wasn’t taking classes and all that.  There was a lot to consider.  I knew that my position here in the dorm was unique because of that, and also because I had a room to myself when I wasn’t supposed to.  I really hoped that I wouldn’t have anyone come join me in my dorm at the start of the next term after the new year, but there was no point in that now, it was still a few months away.

All I had to worry about now was sorting out what I was going to do with my days.  There wasn’t a lot to do right now.  I did call Aunt Sara and leave her a voice mail letting her know that I was not taking classes for the term, and for her to call me if she needed anything.  There really wasn’t anything else I needed to do or anyone I needed to contact.  I did feel I should probably let Eva know what was going on, especially since if I wasn’t in classes it meant I could probably try and catch a flight out to Minneapolis, or risk a road trip out there to visit her.  A flight however seemed like a far safer bet for me.  There was no way in hell that my car was going to make the trip from here to Minneapolis and back and not have some sort of catastrophic issue along the way.

I sent Eva an email.  It was too much to text, and I didn’t feel like leaving a voice mail with her either.  I had no idea what her schedule was and I didn’t want to risk her not picking up.  I felt that if she wanted to talk after she got it, she could and likely would give me a call.  I did miss her, a lot, and with seeing her back in Portland for the funeral, it made it all the more apparent to me how much I really did miss her.  She meant so much to me, and made me so happy, I knew that neither of us wanted to break up but given our current school situations, it really did seem like the more practical choice, even though it was far from the happiest of choices for either of us.  Who knows, in time maybe things would end up working out for us, there was ample time for that possibility.  Right now though, we were close to 1,400 miles apart and that just wasn’t going to work well for us at all. 

The rest of the day I spent in my room just lounging and hanging out.  I didn’t particularly want to be around anyone else, and I had had so much social interaction the last week plus that I was really looking forward to some serious time on my own.  I was used to having ample quiet time when I was living at home, and that was something that I had missed since coming up to Cheney.  Everything had been so busy, all of the time, and it was honestly getting exhausting.  I was hoping that a relaxing evening was going to help things for me but I honestly didn’t know.

[prettybillycore]

Every Part of You || Steve Harrington x Plus Size!Reader

Pairing(s): Steve Harrington x Plus Size!Reader ; Minor Jonathan Byers x Nancy Wheeler ; Minor Billy x Plus Size!Reader

Universe: Stranger Things

Summary: You are a friend of Billy and the new girlfriend of Steve Harrington. Little did either of them know, Tommy has been fat-shaming and bullying you for years. When they find out, they step up to protect you and steve admits something you never could have expected this soon into your relationship. 

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: fat-shaming, bullying (aimed at the reader) from Tommy, self-deprecation, protective!billy, swearing, PDA

Read it on AO3

Or right here on Tumblr! (under the cut)

You knew in the grand scheme of life, that Tommy Hagan’s opinions did not matter. However, it was sometimes hard to ignore his blaring, bullying voice. He was just so loud. 

“Hey Y/n, lookin extra round today.”

“Maybe you’d have a date to prom if you weren’t so pudgy.”

“You’re such a pig!”

He was laughing . He was laughing at you. You were sitting in the lunch room, just trying to eat in peace, and he had the audacity to say that last one while walking by with his lunch tray. You were so tired of his shitty behavior, but you still didn’t say a thing. You just ignored him and pretended that you didn’t hear him. Steve would be here any minute and he would take your mind off of Tommy’s words. Fortunately, your bully never said anything to you while Steve was around. While they weren’t friends anymore, Tommy didn’t want to get into a fight with Steve over you; you knew that. He just wanted to be able to make fun of you when it was easy and he knew the easiest times were when you were alone.

In years past, you would have been sitting with Jonathan or Barb, but times had changed. Barb was gone and Jonathan was dating Nancy. You liked Nancy; you all had gotten caught up in the mess of the upside-down last Halloween together, but you felt awkward being their third wheel. You and Steve had bonded while watching all the kids that night; you even threw a punch at Billy Hargrove to protect him. You two had been close ever since, and even started dating a few days ago. You had made peace with Billy and he did call Tommy out on his shit when he overheard it, but he wasn’t always around either. 

“Hey did you hear me?” Tommy asked. “I said you’re a pig. Maybe try having less for lunch.”

You sighed, but didn’t turn to face him. “Just–”

“What the fuck did you just say to her, Tommy?” Steve.

“Oh hey, Harrington,” He said. You could hear the nervousness creeping up his spine. “I was just giving her some advice about her appearance.”

Steve slammed his tray down on the table next to you. It startled you and you turned to face the boys for the first time. “Oh bullshit, Tommy! I better not ever catch you saying that shit again or–”

“Or what? You’ll beat me up? Please, the freak’s brother kicked your ass last year. I’ll wipe the floor with you.”

You gulped and looked between the two of them. You hated to be in the middle of their disagreement, but you had no idea how to properly interrupt it. “Hey! Hagan!” It was Billy. He was a few tables over, leaning out into the aisle. 

“Quit startin’ shit! Even if you’re not scared of fighting Harrington, you should be damn scared of fighting me. Leave the girl alone or next time it’ll be me who steps in.”

You smiled faintly at him. You found it quite endearing that he was willing to stand up for you. His friends were never happy when he did, but he didn’t seem to care. You mouthed, Thank you, as Tommy walked away from you and Steve. 

Steve puffed out his cheeks in annoyance as he watched Tommy walk away. You reached up and tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. “It’s okay, sit down, Steve.”

Steve blew the air out and you watched him closely as he sat down next to you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders gently and kissed your temple. He was still looking past you at the jock’s table. His blood was absolutely boiling. You took his free hand in yours. “I can’t believe he said that shit to you.” 

“It’s okay, love.”

He huffed. “It’s really not.”

“Steve, it’s been going on for years. I’m used to it at this point, though, truly, thank you for standing up to him. I think between you and Billy he’ll be leaving me alone for a while.”

That was the moment Steve looked at you. “He’s… He’s been saying things like that… for years ?”

“Yeah… since we started high school.”

“Oh, sweetheart… I’m so sorry I didn’t notice sooner. Even back when I was friends with that dickhead, I don’t remember him saying like that with me around.”

“He tries to do it when I’m alone and he’s not with a bunch of his friends. As you saw, Billy doesn’t think it’s funny either. And now that we’re dating he’s been extra sure that I’m alone before he says anything. He does it for his own laughs, but I think he’s ashamed really, and that’s why he doesn’t do it when we’re with people.”

Steve’s grip tightened on you. You leaned your head onto his shoulder. “Still, I’m sorry. If I had heard stuff like that coming from him before I would have stepped in sooner. I hate that he’s been saying things like that to you. You are beautiful, you know? Like just the way you are. You don’t need to change anything.”

You smiled, shifting slightly to kiss his neck sweetly. “You are too sweet to me, darling Steve.”

“It’s not too sweet, Y/n. I love you. I love every part of you, including your opinion. Screw Tommy for insulting you. If he ever does it again I’ll–”

You pulled away from him. His eyes were glazed over with adoration. “Steve?”

“Yeah, Y/n?”

“Did– did you just say ‘I love you’ for the first time?”

A blush finds its way to his cheeks as he chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“I love you too. I know we haven’t been together for very long, but I am in love with you Steve Harrington.”

He smiled widely before removing his hand from yours and grabbing your chin. He kissed you; your lips parted and you melted into the feeling. It wasn’t long, but it was the first time you had kissed at school, and you felt your heart going wild. He pulled away after a few seconds and his grin came back. “As you can tell, I am completely in love with you too.”

_________________________________________

A/N: to my fellow mid and plus-sized fans of ST. I love you, and you are worthy of love. Never let anyone like Tommy get you down <3

Plus Size!Reader Tags: @thatonegirlwhowrites @pennyllanne

[mindofharry]

i had a thought of medium/ghost hunter!Y/N and a clingy ghost!harry…… here’s a small blurb for it <3

“So you’re a ghost hunter?” The girl asked as Y/N sorted her crystals. She smiled and nodded, although she didn’t like the term ghost hunter it was the easiest way to explain her gift. There are people that think it’s the coolest thing ever, to be able to speak and communicate to people who have passed on. But the majority of people in her town really don’t understand, and Y/N can sense their fear. She prefers the term medium, but for the sake of this little girl - who couldn’t be older than ten - she’ll let it go and be Y/N the ghost hunter today.

Y/N opened this store with her mom. It had everything a young medium or spiritual person would need. Although people don’t treat them with the respect they deserve, they fully believe in karma. They give back to the community with their lively spirits and practices, and their shop brings people from all of the country. There’s also teenagers on every corner trying to get ouji boards where ever they can, see Y/N tries to guide them with better things. Ouji boards are not good, Y/N absolutely hates them.

Y/N looked at the little girl, leaving her crystals for a moment. She could sense a lot of things. This girl is gifted too, she just needs a little push. She’s surrounded with good energy and especially good spirits.

“And you’re a ghost hunter too, right?” Y/N asked and the girl gasped.

“I am?”

Y/N giggled and nodded, placing a finger over her mouth as the girls mother came back. The mother had a few crystals, candles and looked exhausted to say the least. Y/N tilted her head at the mother, as she began to look through everything she was going to buy.

“Is there something bothering you?” Y/N asked and the mother sighed.

“Is it obvious?”

Y/N nodded with a soft smile.

“I can help you sage your house if you’d like? Maybe try and get the spirits to leave. My mother taught me everything she knew and she was a smart woman” Y/N stated proudly, the girl squealed.

“She’s a ghost hunter, momma!”

Y/N winked at the mom before handing a tarot card to the girl. “I need to show something to your mom, why don’t you try and sort some of these tarot cards out?” Y/N said and the girl excitedly got to work.

Y/N held the moms hand and walked her into the back of the shop.

“It’s your son, right?” Y/N asked and the woman gasped looking around. Y/N couldn’t sense any fear, she just seemed so tired. The woman sighed and nodded.

While Y/N was looking over her aura she saw the name tag on the woman’s shirt. Anne.

She obviously came straight from work, something is definitely trying to come through. Y/N didn’t sense any malice intent or bad energy, but she’d need to do a proper reading to get a better understanding of this spirit.

“Harry. My son. God, i’m not into those ghost things, i never believed in it. But then so many things are happening and it’s beginning to scare me. I thought if i put a few crystals around that this thing might go away” Anne said and Y/N nodded, wincing at her choice of word for the spirit.

“I see emily, my daughter, talking to herself or leaving notes at the door all the time. I adopted her shortly after harry passed away. And i feel like maybe he didn’t like that?” Anne said shaking her head.

“I’m sorry to drop this all on you, but no one believes me - us”

Y/N smiled and squeezed anne’s hand. “Your daughter is very special, she’s a light. All the things she’s doing is to keep you both safe. And your son? A light as well. There’s is no malice intent with him trying to contact you. He just wants to say hi” Y/N said and she could feel the relief anne was beginning to let herself feel.

“Would you…. Would you still come over? I’ll pay you how ever much you want. I just, I just need to get a full night sleep”

“Of course. I’d be happy to. Let me close up the store and i’ll follow you and emily in my car”

After gathering the stuff Y/N needed and closing up the store, she got into her car and followed anne closely. She could sense the spirit following them, he seemed nice, kind even.

“I know you’re in here” Y/N said tapping her fingers against the wheel. This was rare, new for Y/N. Usually she has to get her candles and crystals out — but this spirit is very prominent and wants to be seen.

“I’m here to help, harry. I want to help you communicate with your family. I do not mean any harm or to disturb you” Y/N said.

“I know”

It was small, a whisper. He was sitting in the back, definitely.

“Your mom is tired, harry. Can you tell me why you need to talk to her so badly? Did something happen to you before you passed on?” Y/N asked and she could hear a sigh. She almost felt excited, she couldn’t wait to talk to her mom about it.

“I miss her”

Y/N pouted and nodded.

“I understand. It’s hard for you, right?”

She couldn’t imagine the pain this spirit was going through — although she feel how kind and calm he is, she could also feel who sad and in pain he was. Emotionally that is. Y/N is going to do everything in her power to make him comfortable.

“So hard. I just want to hug my mum” He said and Y/N nodded.

“Well, i’m going to try and help you as much as i can. Is that ok?” She asked and she could feel him move himself to the front of the car. He was getting more comfortable, that made her feel good. Her job is to make spirits comfortable and happy before they move on. Harry is definitely comfy, but he definitely not moving on anytime soon. She doesn’t mind being stuck with him for the time being.

The car infront of her pulled into a nice driveway, the house is beautiful. Small, but cozy. She could feel harrys annoyance making her giggle a little.

“I think it’s nice. Suits your mom” Y/N said and harry huffed.

“I miss the old house”

Before he could complain more, Y/N got out of her car and skipped up to emily and anne. Emily still had a few tarot cards in her hand, playing with them like pokemon cards. Y/N smiled to herself and followed them into the house.

“Where’s all your gadgets?” Anne asked.

“Don’t need them anymore! But i can still do a little ritual if you’d like?” Y/N said and anne shook her head confused.

There was a tap on Y/N’s back, she turned around and saw harry. This was the first time she was able to see the spirits. He’s beautiful, is the first thing she thought. Long brown curls, cheeks flushed and eyes forest green. He’s wearing a floral shirt and tight black skinny jeans with converse on his feet.

“Harrys here with us right now” Y/N smiled and nodded at harry. He seemed a little nervous now.

“I uh don’t know what to say” Anne said her voice shaky. Harry was very close to Y/N now, he liked her.

“Ask me any question, or just tell him about your day. He misses you” Y/N said and Anne sat down biting back a sob. Harrys eyebrows furrowed and he sighed.

“Please don’t cry” He mumbled taking Y/N’s hand. Y/N smiled softly putting her hand over his.

“He said to not cry. I think it makes him upset”

Anne quietly laughed to herself and shook her head.

“Ask him does he like me!” Emily asked pulling at Y/N’s skirt. Y/N bent down and whispered into emily’s ear.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself”

The day went quickly, and Y/N was tired. These readings took a lot out of her. But she loved making people happy, especially people as kind as Anne and Emily. They needed this to heal, Y/N is so happy they chose her as their guide and to include her on their journey.

“You need to rest” Harry whispered in Y/N’s ear as Anne gave her tea. Y/N shushed him and sipped the drink, it was delicious. She loved tea, her mother made it all the time for her. It calms her.

“Y/N….”

“Y/N”

“Y/N!” Harry yelled making Y/N jump and nearly spill her tea. Anne and emily looked up and Y/N just cleared her throat.

“I think it’s time i go home” Y/N said and Anne nodded. “Of course! You’re welcome back anytime. I’m sure emily will come visit you at your shop too” Anne said, bringing Y/N into a hug. Harry was behind Y/N and followed her to the door. Y/N turned around and smiled.

“Bye harry!” She said waving and harry pouted.

“No”

She raised an eyebrow and laughed to herself.

“No?”

“Yeah, no. I’m coming home with you.”

[castleamc]

meet me at our spot

Pairing: Skateboarder!Frankie Morales x GN!Reader

Words: 2.4K

Warnings: No major warnings, Meet Cute, Early 20's, Strangers to friends/lovers (lets be real), Same age, No use of y/n, Reader has no Physical Description, anything else lmk!

Summary: The early autumn weather today is peaceful and perfect to head to the skate park to draw, upon arriving you realize you’re not the only one there seeking it’s serenity.

A/N: yes I titled it after Willow's song cause…i caught a viBEE 😃 & @middimidoris hope this makes you happy, you've been such a great friend and I hope you like it! The idea never left my mind and yall can blame her for making Stars such a Frankie song ☝🏻

Main Masterlist 🎃

The sun is out? Check.

The sky’s not that gloomy for once? Check.

And there was a breeze as well? Even better.

It was early in the morning, the perfect weather to go draw at the skate park. It’s not an ideal location, but it did have the best looking trees. There was this privacy and serenity you felt around being out while drawing. Usually, the park at this time is empty, skateboarders start appearing by mid-afternoon, meaning that big beautiful tree with the right shade was for the taking.

Rummaging through your closet you picked your favorite shorts to go with your orange oversized sweater. The color matched with your fuzzy spooky high ankle socks as well, it was a must of course. Yeah, they were silly with their pumpkin pattern, but you loved them. Being in theme with the holidays was a simple pleasure of yours, and if it’s Halloween? You can bet you’d go all out.

Glancing the mirror one more time you came to the realization, you look like an orange. Meh. At least you’re a pretty orange that’s comfortable.

You snatched your drawing utensils and drawing book heading out your apartment. You’d recently moved into a new city to pursue your career and it hasn’t been the easiest. Everything was so new and right in your face. So, taking moments like this to clear your mind and feel at peace was a necessity you desperately needed.

Turning at the corner of the street, nearing the entrance of the park, you heard loud echoes hitting the concrete pavement. It sounded like someone was already there.

Before entering the gates, you scanned searching for where the sound was coming from. It was to the far right, near your favorite tree. You groaned wanting some peace to draw, but luckily it was just one person. You started to walk along the sidewalk, eyes to the floor admiring the autumn leaves that had fallen. You followed the path leading to the bench under the big oak tree.

Looking up quickly, you heard the sound of wheels rolling on the concrete. You looked over your shoulder following him speed past you in his own world. His baseball cap was flipped backward, earphones were in, he looked determined, and strong. You had to look to see what he was going to do.

He was fast gaining speed by the second approaching the small staircase that was meant for skaters. He prepared his knees bouncing on the board the closer he came to the railing on the staircase, he was going to jump. You were caught between walking and staring that your knees bumped into the edge of the bench right when he jumped in the air with his board.

Before you had a chance to look back to see if he landed the trick, you heard the loud echo of his skateboard hit the pavement. Searching for him you found him using his foot to skate away heading to the pathway again. Something in you was mesmerized with the way he skated.

It reminded you how you draw, when you’re deep in concentration that nothing around you could bother you. There could be car honks, alarms, chatter, all types of noises. Nothing could distract you from your art. The same way he was focused on his tricks, paying no mind to his new company.

Plopping down on bench, you positioned yourself ready to open your notebook. You stared at the blank page for about 2 minutes. Nothing. Your mind was blank, you kept thinking of him. You wondered if he had seen you staring and bumping into the bench like an idiot. You prayed he didn’t.

The last thing you needed was to be embarrassed on a day as nice as this.

A few minutes go by and the guy was still skateboarding, but this time he was just skating around path of the sidewalk. You hadn’t bothered to look up after your mishap, too embarrassed to look, but you did make some progress. You were intent in fixing a section of shading in your drawing.

Every minute or so though, he’d skate zooming past in front of you. You heard the sound of the wheels slow coming around near you, or at least that’s you think. There could be a chance he was stealing glances at you. Deep down you hoped he was.

He appeared to be around the same age as you, he had brown shaggy hair peeking from under his cap and looked much taller than you. Probably around his early 20’s, judging by his stamina and strength. That was all you could make out when you first noticed him. It was so tempting to look up and stare at him, you had to find a way to make it less obvious.

You stopped drawing to bring a leg under your seated position to take a quick peek. He was about a few feet away, manipulating his board to sway in a way that looked like he was bending it side to side. It was interesting to know how he did that. You couldn't skateboard yourself.

You never learned, but you did like the sport. To an extent, your knowledge of skateboarding came in two words: Tony Hawk. That’s as far as you knew of it.

He was starting to get closer and your heart was beating rapidly.

Should you wave? No, that’s dumb. You don’t even know this guy. Smile? Smile. To be honest, that’s all you could muster up.

Closely approaching into your view, he looked up, almost expecting you to be watching, and he smiled. There was a dimple on his right side, he had a sharp aquiline nose, and probably the sweetest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Mornin’,” he said breathlessly continuing to skate away. You barely had time to say it back, your words were caught in your throat. Even his voice sounded sweet.

You cleared your throat trying to stay calm and not dwell on his good looks or the way he smiled saying morning. Before returning to your drawing he made his way around again, rather quickly. He was standing with both his feet on the board, bending his knees preparing to jump just as he did earlier. This time you stayed watching him discreetly as possible, you secretly hoped he landed this trick.

He took a breath swinging his arms, relaxing his shoulders, and bouncing gently a couple of times on the board, before squatting. You took a breath watching him push up and down on the board. Before you knew it, he jumped high up in the air bringing the board along with him. As if was pulled by some magnet. It was a brief second, but the moment was incredible. He flipped the board—mid-air that your almost heart leaped out its chest for him.

Coming back down he smiled to himself, clearly proud that he landed that trick. You were strung out not to feel the same way, it was incredible.

You smiled at him, hoping he’d look, and he did but briefly. He continued to skate and you continued to draw.

About an hour and a half, the skatepark was still empty and your ass was starting to go numb. He was still here with you. You like to think he didn’t leave yet because of you.

But that’s silly. Almost completing your drawing, you looked up here and there searching for his location. He kept doing tricks which you start to enjoy surprisingly. The sound that the wheels made against the concrete wasn’t obnoxious, it was like a nice scrape. It became background noise as you continued to draw.

That was until you heard a different kind of noise, it was his voice—shouting at you.

“Watch out!”

You looked up to see his board flipping away from him heading near your feet. You picked up your legs to the side just in case. “It’s okay! It happens.”

You reached down setting aside your drawing book on the bench. Holding the back of the board you noticed his collection of band stickers. You stood up admiring the taste in music he has, “You have good taste by the way.”

He jogged to you panting, “Thank you. I guess so do you since you recognized them.”

And you did, there was Green Day, Linkin Park, Fall Out Boy, Red Hot Chili Peppers, all logos belonging to great bands scattered all over from the 2000’s. Some were scraped off, probably from the years of using this board. The one that made your body rush with excitement was right below the wheels.

It was a Swellers sticker.

Handing his board back you asked looking up at him, “You like Swellers?”

He nodded thanking you again, reaching for his board, he took off his earphones to answer back. “Yeah, they’re one of my favorite bands. I’m listening to them right now.”

“Me too! I mean that they’re my favorite band. Clearly, I’m not listening to music right now…” You laughed awkwardly, but he smiled in a way that made you feel less embarrassed. The corner of his eyes wrinkled in the most adorably.

“What song do you like?”

“I-uh..really like Stars. Have you heard it?” He sheepishly smiled reaching back for his phone. “I have. Do you wanna listen to it..with me?”

You were caught off guard by his question. “I’d like that, yeah.”

You both sat to the bench together, you quickly closed your book that was displaying your drawing out in the open. You’ve never shared your drawings with anyone. You always felt like they weren’t ready or good enough, always finding more to fix right when you think you’re ready. It was frustrating to feel like you could do better, but the reach for it was far.

“I’m Frankie by the way.”

He extends his hand introducing himself and you do the same. From your earlier observations, you didn’t notice that he had soft stubble along his jawline, it was scruffy, but in a ‘you wanna smooth it’ kind of way. And his voice was deep hitting the drums of your ear so nicely. It was definitely pleasing to the ears the more you heard it.

Frankie sat close next to you handing you the other earphone, he waited for you to put them on to press play. You both sat together listening to the song, he started humming and bouncing his knee to the song. It felt intimate sharing this moment with someone you’ve never met, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was this mutual bonding that floated.

If you had known you’d be sitting in the park with the cutest guy you’ve seen, listening to one of your favorite bands then you wouldn’t have had worn fuzzy socks with pumpkins on them. You kicked your feet back preventing him from seeing.

He taps on the notebook in your hand to call your attention. “Were you drawing earlier?”

So he was sneaking glances at you, deep down you beamed at the realization of him checking you out. It was almost impossible to stop your cheeks from warming up at the thought. “I was. Not of you though. I would never do that. I mean, not that I don’t want to of course cause I do…” You bit your inner cheek to stop from rambling.

He chuckled nodding and tapped the side of your thigh, “Okay. Let’s do it then.”

Your eyes widen in panic, “Oh I’m not that good. I’d butcher it-you. I’m alright at best.”

He frowned shaking his head in disbelief at the way you bring yourself down. Before you closed the notebook, his eyes couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of your drawing—it was fucking beautiful.

“I doubt that. Can I see your drawings, if that’s okay? I don’t want to overstep.”

You hesitated for a moment clutching onto the notebook in your lap. Pulling off the earphone to hand it back to him, it looked for a moment like he regrets asking it. He was being nice and what were the chances you’d ever see him again in this city, pretty slim. “Why not? But go easy on me.”

Frankie soften at your shy demeanor, you were breathtaking as hell. You caught his eye when you walked into the park, he was all sweaty and shit. He couldn’t approach you like this. But, fuck, you’re beautiful, he had to find a way to get you to look at him so he can talk to you. He skated about 10 times around the sidewalk and did a couple of tricks trying to get you to look at him. When you finally did, he panicked and continued to skate, barely hearing if you responded back. He felt like a moron, if Santiago and Benny were here they’d rank on him for chickening out.

“You have my word,” he said sincerely.

You bravely placed your drawing book into the palm of his hand and nodded for him to know it’s okay. He started to flip to the very first page. Oh god. You prepared for his judgment or a snicker, anything that was going to tell you he thought it was bad.

Yet, it was the opposite, he praised each drawing. Your heart bloomed when he asked what you used for certain drawing styles, which one was your favorite, he pointed out his favorite, he showed real interest. That pesky bubble of fear you previously had washed away completely and was replaced by excitement.

It didn’t take an expert to know you were talented, he could tell you were dedicated and you loved drawing.

“Do you still draw still life? I see you stopped for a bit.”

“I do. But ever since I moved here, I haven’t had a chance to practice as much as I’d like. You’re the first person here that I’ve shown my art to.”

“Wow. That’s—thank you. It’s an honor, really.”

Your face lit up nudging his arm at the compliment. You weren’t use to accepting such lovely words like that.

Frankie could see the enthusiasm radiating from you that he was finding it hard to pay attention to half of what you were saying. The other half was drawn in by the way your eyes sparkled looking leaning over his shoulder explaining your techniques. He could listen to you all day. He hoped you didn’t have to go soon, he wanted to keep talking to you. Learn from you even though he was a shit artist. He’d do anything to keep looking at your smile and the shine in your eyes.

Caught in his trance of you he whispers, “You’re beautiful-.” Frankie quickly darts his eyes away from your face down to the opened notebook in his hands like laser pinpointing his target, he can’t believe that just slipped out of his mouth.

“-ly. Beautifully talented.”

That didn’t go unnoticed to you. In fact you could feel your heart in your throat by now.

“Thanks. But you’re the real talent here. I saw the way you did that trick where you were this high up and flipping the board. It was badass.”

As if you weren’t great enough, you were actually watching him. He could feel his pulse start to race at the thought of you looking at him skate. “Thank you. I was trying to get someone’s attention. Glad it worked.”

You stammer trying to find the right words to say. “Oh it worked. How’d you do that?”

“The 360 flip? It just takes practice. I can show you if you’d like…”

“To do a flip!? That’s pretty advanced, I’ve never skated before.”

“I’ll teach you.”

He gently closed your drawing book handing it back to you getting up to stand. You look up at him extending his hand out for you to grab. Your hand slips easily into his grasp as if you’d done it a million times before.

Frankie went over the basics, first, he taught you the parts of the board, he noted the tighter the wheels are the harder it is to maneuver side to side. He demonstrated each step. Which explain how he was able to swerve side to side manipulating the board earlier. The next step was exciting but hard. Stepping on the actual board.

With Frankie holding your hand, he firmly tightened his hold pulling you as if you were skateboarding. You gained some confidence little by little, letting one foot push the floor to gain speed. Even started to let go one of his hands in the process.

Once you gained speed that was too fast, you called out for him to catch you and he did. He always caught your hands reassuring you.

“How was that?”

“That was fun! I don’t want to bust my ass, but can we head down the ramp?” You asked eagerly.

“Sure. I’ll hold your hand for that or else you will bust your ass.”

You laughed almost losing balance, he gripped your hands smiling up at you. “Ready?” You nodded getting preparing to skate.

“Wait! How about a deal?” You raise your brows waiting for him to continue while holding his hands still on his board. “I’ll teach you how to skate if you practice drawing still life, you can use me. But you have to come by tomorrow?”

Your legs were about to turn jelly at his proposition. “Sounds like a deal.”

Your heart feels like it’s doing 100 somersaults. You feel giddy at the prospect of seeing him tomorrow again that without thinking you stepped forward on the curved edge of the board. Your foot pushed down its weight down launching you forward into his arms like some romantic comedy movie. “That excited huh?”

“I’m so sorry!”

You snorted letting him help you up, but you slowed down seeing how close you were to his face. For a moment, he was about to let go to help you and be a gentleman, but he saw the need in your eyes. You wanted him. And he wanted you. Taking a chance, he slowly leaned down softly bumping his nose to yours making sure. “If I kissed right now, would that be okay?”

Stepping closer to brush your lips against his, “More than okay.”

You placed both hands flat on his chest so close that you could feel his heart hammering against your palms. It was undeniably hot, the way he looked after skateboarding with his hair all messy, his neck and arms glistening with sweat, and the way he painted trying to catch his breath.

Yet it didn’t come close to the way he looked right now, nervous to kiss you. He leaned down pressing against your lips, savoring the heavenly pillowy feel of them. With your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him deeper, his tongue slipped inside dancing with yours. It was slow and tender you never wanted it to end.

As if he was caught in a trance again, he didn’t break away from the kiss until you did. “I can’t wait to see what you’ll teach me tomorrow,” you quipped.

Frankie smirked placing one more kiss, before resting his forehead against yours. “You’ll just have to wait and see when you meet me here at our spot, pumpkin.”

“Pumpkin?” You gushed smiling leaning back still held in his arms.

He looked down between and you followed his stare down to your shoes. “Your cute fuzzy pumpkin socks. Did you think I didn’t notice ‘em?”

A/N: thank you so much for reading! feel free to like, reblog, comment, screech, whatever your heart desires bby 💜

Permanent Pedro Boys Tag: @mandocrasis, @frenchfryfranki, @snow30285, @greeneyedblondie44, @javierpinme, @sharkbait77, @kirsteng42, @beskarboobs, @cozy-pie, @littlefrescita, @mswarriorbabe80, @leannawithacapitala, @heythere-mel, @voteforpedro09, @just-here-for-the-moment, @djarinladylatin, @athalien, @littlemisspascal, @jediknight122, @lowlights, @jitterbugs927, @hocus-chlocus, @lips-for-you, @pedrostories, @hayley-the-comet, @maryfanson, @xaestheticalien, @diaryofkali, @sherala007, @hauntedmama

Frankie's Co-Pilots: @hnt-escape, @woodlandmouth, @theewokingdead, @hoff-mommy, @ezzieu2, @dobbyjen, @finerthingsboutique, @yourbucky084, @blub-senpai, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @elinedjarin, @star-wars-fan-2005

crossed out don't work bbys 🥺

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Subtitles: Episode 1, Filmed Before a Live Studio Audience

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: [Y/N] has been living in Westview for more almost a month now and yet to properly put down roots. What they hadn’t been expecting was to work so much, have unpacking be so hard, and for a new couple to move in the other house for sale, directly across the street.

Word count: 8,425

Warnings: Sit down and grab a snack because this one’s a bit long! Otherwise nothing, really. Maybe second-hand embarrassment caused by a thirsty Reader.

~~~

    Ever since you left both home and family behind some years ago, you’ve always felt a little out of place in the world. It was a hard time for you, leaving everything you knew behind and instead branching out and trying to find your place in the world. Actually, not only was it a difficult time in your life, but a confusing one; when you attempted to reflect on those memories, all you get is a head of foggy feelings, including a particularly sick sensation that leaves you out of commission for the rest of the day if you’re not careful.

    When you settled in Westview, it was like a breath of fresh air. Finding a home in a nice neighborhood was easy and the moving was done in a pinch thanks to a local moving company helping you get the boxes to your door, though you couldn’t afford to pay for them to do more. You were even lucky enough to find a street with not one but two open houses to pick from; you chose the smaller, more modest abode, as you had no family in town and no intention of getting married or starting a family any time soon. Despite this lack of them nearby and generally solid memories, though, you knew you had a good relationship with your family because as soon as you found a place, you were receiving housewarming gifts and postcards and letters from not only your family but close and extended relatives alike. Needless to say, it didn’t take long for your new house’s already installed fridge to be covered in pamphlet-worthy pictures of places across the nation and kind words from your mother, grandmother, and cousins. 

    There was still unpacking, now of both the furniture and gift variety, that needed to be done before anything else. Then there was the question of a proper source of income—while the money you received from your relatives would cover a month or two while you got yourself settled, you suspected there wasn’t going to be anything else for a long while and, either way, you wanted to be able to fend for yourself. Finally, after the necessities were dealt with, there was the matter of making your house and the neighborhood your home and by making some connections; while you were perfectly content living alone, it would be nice to not feel like such an outsider, to have friends to go out on the town with or take the occasional trip with on the weekends. These were normal goals, you figured, and, with as easy everything else has been so far, they should be simple enough to complete.

    Right?

    Well, at least getting a job was easy enough, you thought as you sat on the stack of boxes that, over the last month, had become a chair by the door that you used to pull on your shoes before work, as you were doing now. It also functioned as a coat and hat rack, as proven by your growing collection of jackets and headwear piled on it, and the occasional bookshelf after a trip to the local library. It used to be a place to hold your keys but you have yet to make that mistake again after sitting down one day and getting a sharp jab to the backside. 

    You were right that getting a job was easy enough—you received a callback for a secretary job at a computational services company only after a week of job searching—but you had yet to follow through with your other aspirations. It’s not like you haven’t tried, but when it came to unpacking, your job left you with very little energy to do much other than collapse on a couch-shaped collection of boxes when you get home and only a semi-decently decorated bedroom to show for your work. In terms of bonding with the locals and making some friends, let’s just say that Dottie is convinced you purposely spilled red wine on her perfect white parlor gown—who wears white when drinking red wine?—and now all you received from the neighborhood husbands were side-eyes and grumbling after telling them you found their attempts at humor in poor taste. At least you’d managed to charm your boss and his wife when they came over for dinner and now Mr. and Mrs. Hart invited you over for the occasional drink and gossip; Agnes, a woman from across the street and down a house, was also among your few successes, and she was a hoot to be around in a big sister or wine aunt type of way, despite her loudness. 

    Speaking of which—

    “Hey, [Y/N],” Agnes hollered from somewhere outside, “haven’t seen you out of the house yet! Better hurry up, the streets are antsville today! Or, at least, you could come with me to say welcome the other new neighbors!”

    Agnes came knocking on your door the same day you moved in and since then, she’s apparently committed your daily schedule to memory because if you’re not heading to work right on time, you get a holler from across the— Wait. New neighbors? You hopped up from your boxy perch after making sure your shoes were secure and peeked out the nearest window. Sure enough, the other house that you had considered moving into, the one immediately across the street from your own, no longer had a FOR SALE sign stuck in its yard and the yard and curtains appeared to have been decorated. Your heart lept into your throat as you wondered when that had happened; you desperately hoped that it hadn’t happened too long ago because you’ve been on a work rampage for the past few days and haven’t noticed much else. Yet another thing you haven’t done correctly. 

Agnes was also by the front yard, leaning against the fence and chatting with the mailman as he walked by. After he passed, she looked up and caught your eye, grinned, and waved. “Come on, [Y/N], no time like the present!”

You wanted to join her and introduce yourself to the new neighbors, you really did. Unfortunately, you would definitely get to work late if you didn’t get a move on, especially if the streets were as crowded as Agnes mentioned them to be, and you definitely didn’t want to greet the neighbors without a housewarming gift in hand. Perhaps you could stop by a shop on the way home and pick up a plant or a pie and welcome them this evening.

“Now, don’t flip your lid, Agnes,” you teased back with a smile as you walked outside. This response earned you a mock scowl, then Agnes’s smile again; you walked over to your vehicle and tossed your bag into the passenger’s seat. “I wish I could join you but you caught me; I am in fact looking to wind up late and I’ll be cruisin’ for a bruisin’ if I don’t leave now. I’ll try to stop by after work!” 

“Well alright then,” came Agnes’s reply, while you hopped into the driver’s seat and started your chariot up. “I’ll tell them you say hi. Congrats on no longer being the new guy!”

Too bad I still feel like the new guy, you mentally grumbled, rapping your fingers on the steering wheel. You took a breath, checked that your hair was in place and your shirt wasn’t wrinkled in the mirror and headed on your way.

“Oh, hello dear; I’m Agnes, your neighbor to the right! My right, not yours. Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you to the neighborhood. My mother-in-law was in town, so I wasn’t.”

Wanda watched the woman on her doorstep, visibly a bit perplexed but smiling either way. She was confused about what special event she and her husband were supposed to be celebrating tonight after seeing a heart on the calendar but now that she had an unknown woman—no, not unknown; one of her neighbors—here, Wanda couldn’t possibly be a bad hostess and turn her away. 

Not that the woman, Agnes, would have let her do so anyway. She shoved the plant she was holding into Wanda’s arms and walked inside, talking without giving Wanda any space to chime in. “So, what’s your name, where’re you from, and most importantly, how’s your bridge game, hon?”

Wanda quickly shut the door and trotted after the woman. She was newly stressed over the unknown event but now also giddy; this was the first neighborly welcome of many, she was sure of it! She reached Agnes’s side and stretched out a hand with a big smile. “I’m Wanda.”

“Wanda,” Anges repeated as if to see how the same felt on her tongue, before taking Wanda’s hand in a solid shake, “Charmed.” She paused, glancing around the house—Wanda felt an odd pang of anxiety—then continued, “Gol-ly, you settled in fast! Did you use a moving company?”

Wanda struggled momentarily for an answer. Of course, she didn’t; she’d used her powers to unpack and decorate quickly, but she couldn’t say that to this stranger. She decided to go with an affirmative answer as it was the easiest route. She went to reply—

“If you did,” Agnes went on, “I should get the name from you. Our other new neighbor across the way still has a house full of boxes!”

Wanda blinked, her head tilting to one side out of curiosity. “Other new neighbor?”

“Why the house directly to your front!” Without waiting, the other woman walked to the front window and yanked back the curtains; she gestured to the house in question. “[Y/N]. They live on their own, you see, and probably could have done well with the help. Actually, they were going to stop by with me but they were running late for work. I told them I’d tell you hi for them—Hi for them!”

The loud car Wanda had heard a few minutes earlier must have been this other neighbor rushing off to work. It was nice to know that even though it hadn’t happened, there had almost been a party of two to welcome her and her husband to the street; it’s too bad that he had left for his own job only a while earlier.

Wanda made her way over to the window as well and took a look. It was more modest in size and build than Wanda’s own home, much more suited to house a single person. Despite Agnes’s claim of them having not unpacked, a few lawn decorations were set up and a pair of [F/C] curtains hung neatly framing the home’s front window. Wanda could make out various boxes leaning up against the window, evidence to Agnes’s statement, but otherwise, the place seemed well-kept. The yard was taken care of, though Wanda wondered if it was because the person had moved in just as recently as she and her husband did or if they just enjoyed garden work.

Apparently, she’d wondered this aloud because Agnes responded, “They’ve been here for about a month, just been too busy making a good impression at work and making a fool out of themselves to the other neighbors to make their house a little more homely. Poor thing’s a darling but struggling in the social department.”

Wanda continued to watch the house as if this other, slightly older newcomer was about to drive back up the street to home. Consider her interest piqued. Wanda wanted to know more about [Y/N], all of her neighbors really, but more importantly, why there had been multiple houses open and if it was common. She hoped this neighborhood was as friendly as it seemed and that it wasn’t danger or unkindness that had made multiple people move out. She opened her mouth to ask—

However, Agnes had moved on to a different subject, as well as a different part of the house. “So what’s a single gal like you doing rattling around this big house?”

“Oh no,” Wanda, sighing softly, switched gears with her and replied, “I’m not single.”

You gulped down a gasp of air as you tumbled out of the elevator of Computational Services Inc, which earned you a few odd looks from unknown coworkers passing by. You’d bumped into one of them while skidding to a halt and you felt a blush creep up on your cheeks and ears and you stepped away, apologizing profusely. You tried to reach your desk in a quick but professional manner, only stopping briefly to make sure your clothes and hair were still in order in the reflection of an office window. As you got closer to your desk, a small thing in an area separated from other employees, you heard the comforting sounds of typing and radio music. You got to your desk, pulled out your chair, sat your bag down, and began to sit, only for a voice to catch your attention.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. Would you be so good as to tell me what exactly we do here?”

A British accent? Not something you hear every day around here. You pushed your chair back into place to prevent another worker from bumping into it and walked over to peer around the corner. You recognized Norm, a kind and well-mannered employee that filled out computational forms in this section of the building, standing and chatting with a taller, paler, glasses-wearing man that you didn’t know.

The British voice spoke again and now, at least, you could put the voice to a face. “Do we make something?”

The British gentleman was very tall indeed and quite handsome. He had light wavy hair in a side part, with a sliver’s worth that looked like it could fall into his eyes at any moment; you felt the strange urge to push it back before the idea of running your hands through a stranger’s hair made you blush again. His suit fit his lanky body well, though you’d expect nothing less as Mr. Hart was very strict about his workers’ appearance. His tie was interesting, a dark color with a simple, lighter print of four spots, two larger ones encased in a rectangle, and his glasses framed his curiosity-ridden face very well. Above his lovely-looking, light-colored eyes, his brows were furrowed as he looked animatedly around, as though his workplace was a puzzle he was trying to solve. You noticed he talked with his hands quite a bit and you also noticed that his large, long-fingered hands seemed slightly out of place compared to the rest of his body. They seemed like nice hands, though, and they probably did their job well.

Goodness, [Y/N], now you’re just being ridiculous. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your head against the wall you were hiding around. No, not hiding, because that would make your creeping seem even more bizarre. Definitely not creeping. Investigating.

You shook your head to refocus and looked towards the men, listening again. He is a bit of a dreamboat, isn’t he though?

Norm was answering the man. “No and no.”

“Then what is the purpose of this company?” the stranger continued.

“All I know,” Norm replied with a smile, “is since you’ve gotten here, productivity has gone up three hundred percent!”

Three hundred? That was a startling thought, almost enough to give you a headache. So you’re the reason I’ve had more files on my desk.

The stranger picked up one of said files and flipped through it. “Yes, but what is it that we’re producing?” 

He’s quite interested in figuring out the answer to that question, isn’t he? You felt another pang in your temple. How strange.

Your brows knitted together as you, curious, leaned into the pain a bit. The pain seemed to follow the British employee’s questioning, so you focused on it.

What did they do here anyway?

The harmless pangs quickly turned into a full-blown migraine, similar to what would happen if you thought too hard about your past. You grimaced in pain and reached for your head, only to lose your balance completely and fall forward, into the room you were observing. You hissed as your knees hit solid ground and you braced yourself with one hand while the other gripped the hair closest to your temple. You tried to look around for something else to focus on but your vision was blurry and you couldn’t tell if you were even moving your head.

Then there was shouting, which didn’t help the throbbing pain at all, and you felt what seemed like a hundred pairs of hands grasping at you. You couldn’t understand the yelling other than recognizing the voices as male; you tried to tell them you were alright, shake the hands off and get yourself some space, but nothing in your body seemed to be working quite right. Because of this, the voices and the various hands—or was there just two hands?—didn’t know what you wanted and instead of space, they crowded you. You felt grips on your shoulders and arms, even on your back— Then you were being lifted. Completely off the ground or only to your feet, you couldn’t tell.

Then the hands—only one on your back and another pair holding your arm now—guided you to a place where you could properly sit.

It was quieter now and you could feel the floor beneath your feet and an office chair holding your weight. You realized your eyes were closed so you opened them and you found your vision beginning to refocus. You looked around. 

“Goodness, are you alright?”

You could feel how red your face was—it was probably bright enough to be used as a neon stop sign—when you found yourself staring into a man’s torso. A torso that was quite close. You looked up and directly into the face of the British man, who no longer looked troubled by curiosity but rather quite concerned by you. 

Oh, yes, definitely a dreamboat, you thought without really meaning to.

Then Norm came rushing over, a cup in hand. “[Y/N], are you alright?”

“[Y/N],” the stranger repeated. He took the water cup from Norm, who hovered nearby, and squatted down to be at eye level with you. 

You wouldn’t mind hearing him say your name again.

Good Lord, stop it, you almost passed out!

“That is my name,” you managed. You even managed a definitely awkward smile, a couple of seconds of definitely awkward eye contact.

“Here, you should drink this.” He offered you the cup and once you took it, he pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’re burning up!”

I would imagine so, with how I feel. You sipped the water. Maybe you didn’t look as bad as you thought you did.

“Looks like you’re about to throw up too,” Norm very helpfully added.

Thank you for the commentary, Norm.

“[Y/N],” the other employee said, drawing your scowling gaze back from Norm, “do you have someone you could call? You look ill; perhaps it would serve you well to go home.”

“I’m fine,” you assured him. He did not look convinced but you pushed on, whipping up a quick white lie to cover up your jarring headache. “I didn’t eat this morning and I rushed to work to escape the antsville. I must have gotten overheated on the way and I’m sure an empty stomach helped that. Sorry for worrying—”

“What is going on out here?”

You both jumped to your feet; you moved too fast for having just recovered and stumbled but luckily both Norm and his colleague caught you and straightened you up before you fell over. No one wanted to be seen out of place by the boss and you were currently both out of place and sorts. Even though you knew Mr. Hart already saw you—hell, he was standing directly in front of you three—you glanced around for a place to hide. Instead, you saw files and papers scattered across the floor, the result of your migraine-induced fumbling. You groaned and dropped your head into your hands. 

“Well?”

There was a moment of silence. You felt Norm take a step away from you and you expected the other man to do so as well. He didn’t but you raised your head and squared your shoulders, preparing for the worst.

“Sir—” you started.

“Sir,” the British gentleman interrupted, taking a step forward. “[Y/N] here was walking back to their desk and tripped, and in my haste to help them, I knocked over a pile of files on my desk. I apologize for the racket and the mess I’ve caused; I’ll deal with it right away.”

Mr. Hart looked from him to you to Norm, who was quaking in his nice shoes, then back. There were yet a few more moments of quiet before he spoke again. “Vision.”

Vision?

“Yes, Sir.” 

You glanced at the man to your right. Vision. What an interesting name for an interesting person.

“You better hope dinner tonight goes well after this charade,” Mr. Hart barked. “This better be cleaned up by the next time I come out here.”

Rather than looking upset or stressed, Vision looked relieved. He made a heart with his hands and muttered, “Mr. Hart. Of course…”

“And you,” the boss’s glare now settled on your face. “You were late this morning. In my office. Now.”

“Dammit,” you muttered after Mr. Hart had turned his back. 

“Sorry, don’t think I can help you that one,” Vision chimed in. He was rubbing the back of his head and squinting at Mr. Hart’s back. “You’ll be alright?”

“Promise, it was just a bit of the spins.” You gave him a friendly pat on the arm and made your way to hopefully not get fired. “Nice meeting you!”

“You as well, despite the unfortunate circumstances. Good luck!”

    Mr. Hart was waiting for you by his desk when he entered. He gestured for you to shut the door before he sat and as you did, you saw Vision beginning to clean up your mess before the phone on his desk started ringing.

    “Ugh, I’m exhausted.” You were exiting a shop downtown, squinting against the light of the setting sun. You held the door open with a toe of one shoe while you adjusted the bags on your arms, then moved around to properly hold the door for Agnes, who strolled out after you. “Hart was an absolute villain today! Barks at me for coming in late and not getting work done but then does it for an hour! Well now who’s keeping me? Then this British gent—I swear I’ve never seen him before but he’s apparently the cause of my last few busy work days!”

    “The looker?”

    You blushed a bit; Agnes will never you live it down now that you’ve slipped up and said you’d found the man attractive. “I may have mentioned that earlier—but I digress! As charming as the man was, helping me out even after I knocked over a bunch of his things, he’s still a powerhouse of an employee. Tripled my load of work with his own; now I get what Norm meant when he said productivity has gone up by three times! Imagine, being yelled at by my boss—who was one of the few well-off relationships I’ve had since moving to town—for an hour, and then, when you finally get back to business, your desk is buried in files! I’m barely breathing at this point! Ain’t that just a bite.”

    “Who’s flipped their lid now?” Agnes said with a cheeky grin. You responded with a tired glare and she scoffed. She moved her own bags to one arm so she could give your shoulder a good pat. “Just teasing you, dear! We can’t all be superhuman, unfortunately. Although you’re damn near close; thank you for helping me home, by the way. Ralph had a last-minute “meeting” with some “coworkers” tonight and I’m helping out our new neighbor plan a very important date!”

    That’s right, you had a new neighbor across the street. You’d almost forgotten. You knew there was a reason you’d felt the urge to pick up a small houseplant on your way through the checkout.

    “You have the mouth of a sailor, ‘Nes,” you quipped, cracking a grin.

    “And a drinking tolerance that would put any soldier to shame!” Agnes agreed with a short laugh. After a quick pause, she added, “It’s not like I said ‘fuck.’”

    That time both of you laughed and for the first time since your disastrous day, you felt yourself relax. After bringing up sailors and soldiers, Agnes lept into one of her half-complaint, half-stories about how, one time, her husband Ralph got drunk and tried to fight an entire bar—“Everything including the stools!” While she talked and you escorted her to your car, your mind wandered, curiosity about your new neighbors piqued again. You reached the sidewalk’s curb and helped Agnes stepped down, then opened the vehicle’s passenger door and took her bags. 

    Instead of sliding inside, Agnes watched you as you moved around to the other side of the car and put the bags in the backseat. “You’re a bit of a flutter bum yourself, dear. Look at those manners; you’ve been out and about all day and still came to help me with the groceries! And that voice! Absolute apple butter sometimes, when you want it to be. I’m surprised you aren’t already circled with a couple of children along the way!”

    You snorted as you opened your door and slid behind the wheel. “Just not in my plan, I suppose.” You gestured for her to join you in the car and started it up when she did so. “You didn’t see me today either. Creeping around corners, then these annoying headaches got to me and I was stumbling around knocking down everything! Not to mention the new guy, sweet as pie, saw me do all this and go absolutely red just from looking at him. Sweating, cottonmouth, everything. I must have seemed bonkers! It was awful.”

    Agnes offered, “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think.”

    “I’m sure if he ever sees me again, he’s going to turn heel and walk in the opposite direction,” you stated. Then you shifted into gear, pulled away from the sidewalk, and turned towards home.

    You were in the one room in your house that wasn’t a part of the United Boxes, your bedroom, standing in front of one of the few pieces of furniture you’d managed to unpack since moving in. You fussed over your reflection in the mirror, pushing your damp hair from one side to the other, adjusting your tie one moment then readjusting it the next, holding up various hats and cardigans.

Your casual wardrobe was much more unique than the business attire you kept for work, which was generally neutral in both color and style. Tonight, you wore a collared button-up in a bright pattern of your favorite color paired with a tie that was darker in shade but equally bright in color, and you were debating between various cardigans in complementary colors. The pants you wore were more muted, a neutral color to go with the shiny black dress shoes and good quality belt that you usually only broke out for special social occasions. For a little more pop, you also wore a few colorful bracelets on each wrist and a ring or two. You even added a little more color to your still tired-looking face, despite you feeling much better after a nap, shower, and change of clothes. 

You finally settled on the combination of a brighter colored cardigan a more muted hat to pull your entire look together. Slipping the cardigan on and flattening out any creases, you flashed your mirror self your friendliest smile for practice’s sake. Then you gave yourself a twirl, craning your neck over over your shoulder to make sure everything looked just as nice from the back as the front. 

Now we’re cooking with gas, you thought. Hopefully, the neighbors think so too.

Satisfied, you made your way out to the living room where your outfit-appropriate handbag and housewarming gift waited. The young plant, a pachira, sat in a pot whose color accented the color of the house you were going to visit this evening as opposed to the simple white it’d come in. The pot itself wore a big ribbon bow that you’d attached yourself and sticking out of the soil was a card welcoming the neighborhood’s newcomers. 

Perhaps you’d finally make some friends tonight.

You picked up the plant-based gift in one hand and placed it securely in the crook of your arm, then picked up your handbag in the other and made your ways outdoors. It was a quick walk across the street and once on the neighboring house’s doorstep, you steeled yourself with a deep breath. You smiled, then frowned, then smiled again and repeated this a couple of times to make sure the first smile your neighbors saw wasn’t a strained one and raised your hand to use the oddly realistic-looking lobster door hanger.

Much to your surprise, however, the door opened before your hand ever reached it.

And there, in front of you, looking just as shocked as you felt, was your boss and his wife. 

“Mr— Mr. Hart?” you stammered, stumbling backward and almost dropping the plant under your arm. Remembering the last time you and your boss “conversed,” your friendly face twisted into more of a deer in the headlights look. “Mrs. Hart? What are... What are you doing here? You didn’t just move in, did—?”

“Is there a problem, Mr. and Mrs. Hart?”

Not only did you recognize the Harts but you recognized the British voice that came from behind them and the face that appeared with it. 

“Vision?”

“[Y/N]?”

The two of you stared at each other in surprise. That is until Mr. Hart cleared his throat; he and Mrs. Hart still stood directly in front of you, with Vision unintentionally blocking them from stepping back inside. You yelped an apology and stepped to one side, then had to catch yourself on the doorframe as you almost tripped down the front steps.

“Yes, that’s right,” Mr. Hart said slowly as he stepped outside, giving you a particularly unpleasant look, “[Y/N] here lives in the neighborhood as well. Say, you live directly across the way, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded immediately with a tilt of your head in the direction of your home. Then you glanced over at Vision and raised the pot you held slightly for him to see. “I was just coming over to introduce myself and offer a housewarming gift.”

Mr. Hart gave a strained nod, clearly still out of sorts about your work performance today. “Well, we were just out the door after the first dinner with the Maximoffs.” He made it sound like having dinner with your boss, while important, was something more of a religious experience. 

You hoped Vision did well. 

“He did just fine,” Mrs. Hart piped in.

There you go, accidentally wondering things aloud again.

“Congrats!” you chirped in Vision’s direction. You noted that he seemed as uncomfortable being in this situation as Mr. Hart acted and you felt. Perhaps you should have just visited in the morning.

Out of the group, Mrs. Hart seemed to be the only one unphased. She gave your shoulder a friendly squeeze and complimented your outfit—the one that her husband eyed distastefully—then lowered her voice so only you could hear. “I heard about your little brawl at work today. Don’t get bent too out of shape about my husband’s behavior; he has to work the weekend and he’s about excited as a cat that doesn’t get fed on time. We’re still on for bridge this weekend, right?”

You always liked Mrs. Hart. She was a good counterweight to her ever so charming husband and she always made sure to make you feel at home here in Westview, even if you struggled to do so yourself. You gave her a smile and a nod. “Of course, ma’am. You look stunning tonight, by the way.”

“Charmer.”

As you were talking to Mrs. Hart, Vision settled things with the mister, and things finally seemed to be calming down. However, Vision was wishing the Harts a safe way home, and you gave them a “Good night!” and a wave while wondering if you should just go home yourself, when a clatter came from inside the—what was it?—Maximoff household.

A voice followed, “Vis? Is everything alright out there, dear?”

You felt yourself deflate a bit; you already forgot that Mr. Hart had mentioned Maximoffs. Maximoffs, not one Maximoff. You were somewhat disappointed that, from what it sounded like, your new dashing British acquaintance had a partner, not that it was a surprise. He must have had people throwing themselves at him at one point in his life before he settled on The One and they immediately got married and moved into their cozy-looking, bigger than your own, house. Or, perhaps, maybe he was the awkward one falling all over himself to impress the person of his interest and when they finally picked him, he felt like his heart exploded into a billion heart-shaped butterflies that found their home in his stomach.

Of course you were the only one on the block who was single and living alone.

You wondered if they had kids.

“... come in!”

You zoned back in from being lost in your thoughts to catch only the end of what Vision was saying. He stepped back from the doorway and held the door open for you and looked at you expectantly and, not wanting to make more of a fool of yourself that you already have in front of him today, you made your way inside, just hoping he hadn’t said anything important while you had been wondering about his romantic life. You felt heat on your ears and cheeks.

Vision, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. Now that the Harts were gone, he appeared much more relaxed, leaning on the door with one leg crossed over the other and even smiling at you as you walked into his spacious and already unpacked living room. 

That was the first time you’ve seen him smile, you noted. He had a very charming smile, one of those that made his eyes smile too and seemed much more in place on his face than any other expression. 

Vision closed the door behind you as you looked around the space with mild surprise—how long have they been moved in? How had they gotten unpacked so fast?—then he gave you a friendly squeeze on the shoulder. It was then that you noticed more clattering coming from behind a door that you assumed belonged to the kitchen.

“If you’ll excuse me for just a moment,” he said, making his way to said door, “As you know, my wife and I just finished dinner with the Harts, and my darling Wanda is doing all the dishes. I’ll tell her to wait a moment and come join us! Do you drink fluids?” You must have looked at him oddly because then he stumbled on his words a bit before clarifying, “Alcohol? Or would you like water, juice?”

He certainly did talk with his hands a lot. You liked the way he clasped his hands and fiddled with his fingers while trying to untangle his words.

“Water’s fine,” you replied with a friendly smile.

Seeing that you weren’t bothered by his slip-up, he smiled back and made his way into the kitchen. Halfway through the door, he chirped over his shoulder, “Please feel free to take a seat! I’ll return momentarily!”

Being alone again for only a few minutes still had you beginning to feel the weight of the day’s chaos again. You placed your housewarming gift on the coffee table and rubbed where the pot had been digging into your arm, then wriggled your toes; because these were shoes for special social occasions only, something you didn’t go to very often, they weren’t very well broke in and your feet were beginning to hurt. 

The clattering in the kitchen had stopped but now the muffled voices of Vision and Wanda, which was somehow comforting. You looked around, taking in the classy but simple room. How on earth they’d managed to get unpacked so fast unless they used a company or stylist or somehow bought the place pre-furnished, you had no idea—well, you had a few, clearly. It was still surprising though. However they managed, you hoped your own living area looked half as nice. When you got around to it.

You perked up again as you heard the kitchen door creak… and then felt like your heart exploded into a billion heart-shaped butterflies that immediately found a home in your stomach.

If Vision was a dreamboat, his wife was a, well, literal vision. Wanda wore a dress that was just as simple and charming as the house she lived in, paired with a pretty necklace and pair of heels. Her curled hair perfectly framed her face and despite appearing as frazzled as Vision had when you first showed up at their doorstep, she wore a smile so gorgeous that your heart, which had apparently recovered from its explosion of butterflies, decided it preferred to do somersaults in your throat.

The pair of them were standing hip to hip with Wanda carrying a set of glasses and Vision a pitcher of water. They were chatting lightly about how well dinner went as they walked into the living room before turning their set of beaming smiles in your direction. 

Your body couldn’t decide whether it wanted to melt, tie itself in knots, or spontaneously combust. You decided to make it stand to properly introduce yourself instead.

Just living in the same neighborhood as these two was going to be cataclysmic. 

“Wanda, darling, this is my coworker [Y/N], the one I told you about earlier this evening.” Vision detached himself from his partner’s side and began snagging glasses from her hands to fill and place on the coffee table as she walked closer. “And [Y/N], this is my wife, Wanda.”

You and Wanda watched him hop around from her to the coffee table and back two more times with amusement, then Wanda looked at you and gave an incredulous shake of her head, offering her hand. “Hi, hon. Don’t mind him; he’s not usually this dancy but dinner with the boss was a bit unexpected on both our parts. I had to pull something together last minute and he’s trying to make up for it.”

“You did so much in such a short amount of time,” Vision added, finally settling on the couch beside Wanda after the two of you shook hands and got seated. “You deserve a break. I can handle filling a few glasses and doing up the dishes.”

“Speaking of which, I hope you got a break yourself, [Y/N].” Wanda’s comment and concerned look made your eyebrows raise with confusion. She elaborated, “Vision mentioned covering for you at work today.”

You flushed slightly and rubbed the side of your neck. Vision noticed and gave you an apologetic look.

“Oh, yes,” you replied, “I get these awful migraines sometimes. One just happened to hit me at a particularly bad time today and I fell and knocked over a bunch of files. Your husband was an angel, did something he absolutely didn’t need to do and said it was all his fault.”

“And yet you got punished anyway,” Vision said, still looking apologetic. He wrung his hands a bit as well; you wanted to hold them to make him stop.

Wanda did instead, giving him the sweetest smile in the process. 

“But if it weren’t for you,” you chirped, “I may have just gotten fired. So I have to thank you for that. And I can’t imagine how that may have affected your dinner tonight, if I had known you were having the big boss dinner tonight, I wouldn’t have let you. I’m so sorry, by the way, for barging in immediately after your dinner, too; you two must be exhausted!”

“Oh, nonsense,” Wanda piped up again. She patted you on the wrist; you kind of wished she’d left her hand there but she went to pick up her water instead. “Dinner went quite well actually, if not a bit ill-planned. We had a bit of a misunderstanding of what the calendar said.” She gave Vision a playful glare and he responded with a bashful smile that he tried to hide by running a hand over his face.

“I drew a heart, for Hart,” he explained. “We forgot and thought we missed an anniversary instead.”

You thought back to when Mr. Hart mentioned the dinner at the office and Vision had made a heart with his hands, then tried to suppress a grin of your own. “That’s an easy misunderstanding. Happy to hear I’m not the only one good with planning, though, no offense.”

“Well, maybe you two should be married.” Wanda glanced between the two of you, the playful look in her dark eyes paired with her suggestion making your throat dry.

“You couldn’t remember it either, darling,” Vision countered, giving her a peck on the forehead, “If that’s the case, maybe all three of us were meant to be.”

You went to swallow and ended up having to suppress a choke. You reached for your glass, only to see it empty—when did you do that?—but Wanda was quick to refill it.

You gave her a sheepish smile and soft “Thanks” in return, took a drink and decided to play along. “That would explain why we ended up living directly across from the street and why I’ve been single almost my entire life.” 

You mentally kicked yourself for mentioning that last part and coming off way too desperate. However, when you glanced the couple’s way, Vision was chuckling, and Wanda was giving an understanding nod with a pleased look on her face. Maybe she thought her joke was going to hit wrong? Maybe it hadn’t been a joke?

Don’t get your hopes up, you thought.

Then Wanda spoke again. “You must be joking. You’re living on your own in that house?”

    You shrugged and responded, “I have a fish.”

    “I’m sure they’re wonderful conversation,” Wanda quipped back. 

    “No romantic interest in sight?” Vision asked. 

    Well, I wouldn’t say that but I’m certainly not going into that right now. You shook your head and decided to shift the conversation to a topic that was less likely to make you feel, if either or both of them did happen to ask you to marry them at that very moment, as if you would immediately throw yourselves at them. “Speaking of houses and all that, what a coincidence that we happen to find each other living next door the same day we meet. That’s what I originally came over to do, introduce myself to my neighbors and give you a housewarming gift.”

    You gestured to the pachira on the coffee table and Wanda reached over to touch its leaves, then used Vision’s still-full water glass to water it. “That’s right. It is a lovely plant, thank you very much. I think it will look nice in the kitchen, or perhaps over by the window.” 

    “It’s supposed to bring good luck to the house,” you offered, “and red ribbons are often associated with it but I’m not sure why.”

    “Well here’s to good luck then,” Wanda said, clinking Vision’s empty cup with your half-full one. She read the card you’d attached, smiled, then picked up the plant and offered it to her husband. “Here, dear. Since you’re taking on the role of house-husband tonight, why not take this and see how it looks over by the window.”

    Vision was already standing and taking the plant from her hands before she finished her sentence. “Of course, darling. Tell me where you think it looks nice.” Then he added to you as he walked by, “I may be skilled many things, like filling out computational forms, but the interior decorating is all her. I’m practically color-blind. And furniture-blind. And generally design-blind. Possibly blind-blind, if I’m being honest.”

    Wanda rolled her eyes but she still giggled, then pointed out where she thought the plant would look best. It was off to one side of the window and she explained that she thought it would be visible from your window as well, and thus give both houses good luck. 

    “Maybe it will give me the luck to finally unpack and decorate like you two already have,” you pondered allowed, finishing off your water a second time; Wanda promptly offered to fill your cup again but you politely declined. “The two of you have been here, what? At least a few days now and your home is already made in the shade. I’ve been here in Westview a month if not more and I usually spend my time lounging on a couch made of crates and boxes.” 

    You noticed Vision glance oddly at his wife as he sat back down but Wanda didn’t seem to catch it. Still, she answered quite quickly, “We used a company.”

    “Ah.” You glanced between them but the strained energy that suddenly appeared just as quickly as it came when Wanda gave you another sweet smile and offered to write down the company name for you. “No need, I couldn’t afford it anyway. Thank you, though.”

    That response didn’t seem to please Wanda all that much. She pursed her lips in a way that looked partially pondering and partially pouty—it was a very cute pout—before leaning over to Vision and muttering in his ear. His attention was immediately drawn to focus only on her and they chatted quietly among themselves for a few moments.

    You suddenly felt awkward again and took to looking around a bit. You first looked at your feet and noticed how close one of Wanda’s own was to yours; in fact, the three of you were sitting so close together that her dress poofed out over your leg. Then you happened to look over at where your arm was resting across the back of the couch. Vision’s was too and you suddenly became keenly aware of how, if he were to start talking with his hands like he does, his would most definitely brush your own. You wondered if it already had while you were too engrossed in conversation to notice, then you wondered if you should move farther to the other side of the couch.

    You began shifting to do so when Wanda suddenly leaned back to her normal spot and grabbed your wrist. “Why don’t we come over sometime this weekend and help you unpack?”

    You blinked. She seemed closer than she had been earlier, or maybe it was just the fact that hand hadn’t pulled away yet. Her eyes were as bright and welcoming as they had been since you first saw them, eyebrows raised in what you could only place as eagerness, and you officially decided that if you were to look up the word “sweet” in a dictionary, there’d be a picture of her smile.

    You were so suddenly flustered that for a moment all you did was stare while you figured out how to talk again. When you did, you were surprised at confident your voice sounded when you replied, “Sure.”

    “Great!”

    Wanda and Vision looked equally excited when you looked at them both, which confused you before you remembered that you were only the second person from the neighborhood to visit them since they moved in. Thinking of it now, you were also feeling energetic from the conversation and not just because you happened to be sitting next to a very attractive-looking pair. This was the first time you sat down with people from the neighborhood and it did not only go well but you were thoroughly enjoying yourself; you also enjoyed spending time with Agnes but Agnes was just outwardly friendly to everybody and even if you ran out of things to say, she had enough stories to add filler to seven different conversations at the same time. Wanda and Vision seemed to be just as awkward as you, making unusual jokes that might not make it through and fumbling over themselves and on occasion just being awkwardly silent at times, but it was a weird kind of awkwardness that also felt comfortable, comforting. You felt like you were among friends. 

    Conversation flowed easily for the rest of the night. The three of you made plans to spend the next day at your place, unpacking and decorating and just getting to know each other better, then conversation shifted smoothly from one random topic to another. Wanda had a lot of questions about the neighborhood and the people in it and she and you swapped stories of first meeting Agnes. You were somewhat fascinated with Vision’s almost eidetic memory and couldn’t help quizzing him on random subjects but luckily, he seemed to be just as eager to answer. Wanda mentioned Vision’s ability to play ukulele at one point and he felt is was absolutely necessary to perform and after mentioning Wanda’s breakfast cooking ability—and your stomach grumbling in curiosity—she brought you to the kitchen and made the best breakfast you’d ever had, despite it not being morning, while Vision kept to his word and washed the dishes. Eventually, though, the night caught up to the each of you and you said your goodbyes, hugs included, at the door and you headed back home with a goofy grin on your face. 

    Upon getting home, you kicked off your shoes that you’d long since forgotten were causing your feet pain and went to your bedroom. You quickly stripped, put on your bedwear, and faceplanted onto your sheets. You laid there for a moment in comfortable bliss before turning your head and catching yourself in the mirror. Though looking utterly exhausted, it was mixed an almost childish happiness. You finally felt content in Westview, like you’d finally found your place. 

    You scrambled around to get under the covers and curled up. Quickly dozing off and still grinning, you muttered, “I think I’ll like it here.”