#his daily affirmations for the rest of the event are going to be 'i am NOT boring. i am INTERESTING.'

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merakiui · 4 months ago

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OH MY GOD MERA

the jp twst halloween spoilers…..JADE 😭😭😭😭 he got so genuinely upset he was called boring by a kid 😭😭😭 it’s so funny

the way he went “i absolutely won’t accep such slanded!” and angrily grabs the bug like jade please why are you so funny 😭😭😭😭😭😭

and jade RARELY gets this mad and it’s cause of being called boring 🤣🤣🤣🤣

I SAW AND OMG!!!! He's a loser...... so silly,,, insisting he'll give a reaction that is so surprising it will be sure to shock Lock and prove that he isn't boring. "hand over the bug!!!!" LOLLLLLLL T_T it's even funnier because he was trying to convince Lock to give the bug to Epel or Vil (likely because he wanted to see what their reactions would be,, for his own amusement in classic Jade fashion, of course), but Lock just isn't pleased with that. "Ugh, you're boring!"

Jade:

#twisted chit chat #a child sending jade into a crisis all because he called him boring is so funny #his daily affirmations for the rest of the event are going to be 'i am NOT boring. i am INTERESTING.'

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shadowscommand · 7 months ago

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Would you like to share more Mace headcannons maybe in how he is in his daily life.... I love that you talk about Mace he doesn't get enough love! Do you also have a name headcanon forhim?

oh my goddd yes i would 🥺🥺 also i do actually! since cod likes to reuse names i thought it would be funny to name him after someone from ghosts. elias fits best imo, with ghost/others using eli for short 😌 @/cod i am willing to accept another name give us more mace dialogue. NOW. but anyways..

early riser i think even after nights where he went to bed late. he can't help it once he wakes up, hes up and his internal clock won't let him sleep in. but hes fine with it his sleep tends to be restful and he likes a regular-ish schedule

he doesnt expect much good out of other people. every so often hes pleasantly surprised but most of the time he has his distrust affirmed. i imagine with graves hes playing it very carefully. if they did not have a past connection he would not be working with him

if he can take the time he really likes to go to shows and he does so often. any live music event at a bar or small stadium he is thereee even if he doesn't know the band. he wants New Music always

he doesn't use spotify. he uses youtube and either buys physical albums that he downloads to a computer then to his phone or he uses bandcamp. he has a lot of feelings about how artists should be compensated bc he listens to very very small artists most times

he also listens to well known artists who hes less serious about making sure they get their money. when finding music hes more concerned with liking the sound so hes not against listening to artists who are well known horrible people but he very seriously does not want them to benefit from it.

hes a Wikipedia Guy. its super easy for him to go down a rabbithole of learning about something he didnt go on the website for. he will open up the linked sources for shit that really catches his eye.

bc of this hes rly good at trivia! he always has a little point to add about something he read, assuming he feels the need to tell it. i imagine with some meathead shadows itd be a pain in the ass trying to have an intelligent conversation so he wouldnt waste his breath. still cordial with them though.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty headcanons #cod mace #mace cod #idk which tag is more popular. hes not super popular either way 😔#mwmp #asks #anon

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thedivinefish · 4 months ago

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TGIFriday - post-Milton edition: I miss my routine

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divinefishingtips · 4 months ago

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TGIFriday - post-Milton edition: I miss my routine

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365dailyaffirmations · 4 months ago

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TGIFriday - post-Milton edition: I miss my routine

THURSDAY OCTOBER 24, 2024 4:00pm ET | 1:00pm PT | 10:00pm UK Registration fee = $22 30 minutes live | Includes replay access 👉 https://calendly.com/jmh-calls/7-wellsprings-call-6-money

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advancedthetapractitioner · 4 months ago

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THURSDAY OCTOBER 24, 2024 4:00pm ET | 1:00pm PT | 10:00pm UK Registration fee = $22 30 minutes live | Includes replay access 👉 https://calendly.com/jmh-calls/7-wellsprings-call-6-money

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jdgo51 · 2 years ago

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A Prayer for Moms Today's inspiration comes from: Jesus Calling for Moms by Sarah Young Compassionate Lord Jesus, "'I ask You to use these devotions to bless and help mothers — strengthening, encouraging, and comforting them as they go about their daily lives. Remind them that You are with them each and every moment, regardless of what is happening. Please shower them with Your unfailing Love, and enable them to love their children well. Help their children truly know You as Savior and Lord. In Your glorious, victorious Name, Amen ~ Sarah Young I want you to learn a new habit. Try saying, “I trust You, Jesus,” in response to whatever happens to you. If there is time, think about who I am in all My Power and Glory; ponder also the depth and breadth of My Love for you. This simple practice will help you see Me in every situation, acknowledging My sovereign control over the universe. When you view events from this perspective — through the Light of My universal Presence — fear loses its grip on you. Adverse circumstances become growth opportunities when you affirm your trust in Me no matter what. You receive blessings gratefully, realizing they flow directly from My hand of grace. Your continual assertion of trusting Me will strengthen our relationship and keep you close to Me. I have seen You in the sanctuary and beheld Your power and Your glory. — Psalm 63:2 See, the Sovereign Lord comes with power, and His arm rules for Him. See, His reward is with Him, and His recompense accompanies Him. He tends His flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in His arms and carries them close to His heart; He gently leads those that have young. — Isaiah 40:10–11 Where can I go from Your Spirit? Where can I flee from Your presence? If I go up to the heavens, You are there; if I make my bed in the depths, You are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast. — Psalm 139:7–10 “I trust You, Jesus; help me, Holy Spirit.” Trust Me in times of confusion — when things don’t make sense and nothing you do seems to help. This type of trust delights Me because I know it is real. Invite Me to enter into your struggles — to be ever so close to you. Though other people may not really understand what you’re going through, I understand perfectly. Find comfort in knowing you’re not alone in your struggles. I am with you, watching over you continually. Long-term trials can drain you of energy and hope, making it hard for you to keep trusting Me. But I have given you a wonderful Helper, the Holy Spirit, who never runs out of strength. You can ask for His help, praying: “I trust You, Jesus; help me, Holy Spirit.” Instead of trying to resolve all your problems, simply rest in My Presence. Trust that there is a way forward, even though you can’t yet see it. I am providing a good way for you, though it is bumpy at times. When the road is rough, cling all the more tightly to Me. As your soul clings to Me, My right hand upholds you. I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you. — Genesis 28:15 When the Helper comes, whom I shall send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father, He will testify of Me. — John 15:26 NKJV My soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me. — Psalm 63:8"' Excerpted with permission from Jesus Calling for Moms by Sarah Young, copyright Sarah Young.

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sallysoot · 4 years ago

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↱ INVENTION OF A LEGEND. | IV ↲

ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3 | ch.4 ❝ nemo saltat sobrius. ❞

the people of your village present you as a blood offering to an ancient deity that slumbers atop a mountain. in the act of your sacrifice, you find that you have everything to gain.

[ pairing ; god!technoblade x gn!reader ] [ stats & warnings ; 3.4k, second person, no additional warnings that were not applicable previously! ] [ notes ; here we go folks! another chapter in the series. it’s crazy to me how time flies with writing this fic! also: ten points to whoever guesses what the last setting described in this chapter is inspired by! 👀 ]

memories of the night before spin restlessly through your frantic mind, bolstered by the near-death experience that keeps you awake. over and over, you imagine yourself colliding with the rocks and wonder if techno saving you had truly been an act of mercy. from your position, you don’t think your judgement of him is unfair; he could be toying with you like a housecat batting a mouse around, claws exposed, instead of biting its head. the idea of his mercy is nebulous at best, the sort of thing that you understand as a made-up concept that your brain proposes to spare you another dose of grief.

even so, you find yourself believing it. believing him, rather, that the promise he claims your survival is guaranteed by is one that he has genuine intent to abide by.

with a sleepless night cut short by the sun, you abandon your bedroom again, still contemplating his motivations as if you could hope to comprehend them in the mortal mind you possess. your life would be little more than a speck upon his, even without his intentions to cut it short. a part of you expects to see techno struggling with another sticky ball of dough. instead, you find him sitting at the table, face in his hands. your stomach lurches with sympathy; he’s crying, you think, until he feels your presence and turns his attention to you. no, certainly not crying. moreover, he looks frustrated, a bit angry-- and that’s not a good sign for you, is it?

“my... apologies,” techno murmurs, taking in a long, steady breath to settle himself down.

“you’ve no need to apologize,” you answer, a bit too quickly to seem natural. when you continue, though, your sincerity soaks into every word. “what happened? what’s wrong?”

techno shakes his head a bit. “nothin’ that should concern you.” he pauses, then, looking at you for a moment much too long to not feel uncomfortable. “well, i suppose it does concern you now, doesn’t it?”

you have no intention to disagree, so you nod, affirming to him that it has everything to do with you. because it does; his daily life is now intertwined with yours, and you have no choice of your own but to accommodate it.

“right, then. this-” techno picks up a large sheet of paper from the table, gesturing to it with his other hand but not moving it close enough for you to read more than the first line, “-is an invitation. every hundred years, the gods gather to feast and dance. all of them, and some additional guests of lower status, like the demigod i spoke of.”

“i... see,” you reply with a nod, failing to see why it has filled him with such dread.

“this event is quite mandatory. i’ve tried before to get out of it, there’s simply no way.” techno heaves a sigh, slumping back in his chair. “yet somehow i forget about it, every time. it’s tonight.”

you approach the table, hoisting yourself up into the other chair there to be at least a bit closer to level with him. “is it?”

“so what am i supposed to do with you?” techno rests his chin in his hand, tapping thoughtfully on his cheek. “i’m sure you won’t be surprised to hear that i have no faith in you to not run the moment i leave.”

continuing your history of honesty with the god, you give a slight nod. “you aren’t wrong to doubt me. i’ve told you, sincerely, that i want to live. why would i not take a chance to preserve myself? but... i’d much rather you lock me away for the night than kill me prematurely.” you hesitantly reach forward towards the invitation to pull it closer, and when he doesn’t move to stop you, you bring it down to your lap to look over. “it says you can bring a guest,” you say, tracing your fingers over the golden ink on the parchment.

“and you would accompany me?” techno asks. there is no surprise in his voice; he knew you would remark on it, you realize. he just didn’t want to ask you himself.

“well, i’d much rather attend a party than die or be trapped somewhere until you return. so of course i would.” you try to show some enthusiasm, smiling a little as you say, “besides, not everybody gets an opportunity like that!”

you see techno begin to smile, just before he shifts his hand over his mouth in an attempt to hide it. “that’s true. we’ll go together, then. i’ll have to find you somethin’ to wear, though.”

your fingers trace over the intricate beading on your sleeve. “something else? this is already much finer than anything i’ve ever worn.”

techno quirks a brow. “maybe, but that doesn’t mean it’s fine enough to wear to the centennial gatherin’.” he pushes away from the table, offering you his hand after he stands. “we have time to get ready. let’s make use of it.”

visions of what the party will look like flicker through your mind as you take his hand and let him lead you back down the hall. you know it is far from being thrown in your honor, but you try to imagine that it is. that this is your spectacular funeral, like the metalsmith’s had been. a thrilling event that marks your demise in swathes of color and light doesn’t sound so bad, does it?

techno takes you into one of the rooms that you’d yet to explore, pushing open its heavy door with a loud creak. your eyes go wide at the sight of the room: it reaches back like a long hallway with a wall decorated in sparkling jewelry, with expensive furs and capes lining the opposite side. you catch yourself and draw your hand back when you realize you’re reaching out to stroke one of the furs closest to you. a moment later, techno holds out a set of clothes towards you and waits for you to take them. your hands clutch around the fabric, and you find that it’s as smooth as fine silk, with strands that shift in color threaded through it.

“why do you have these things? human clothes, i mean... much too small, for you.” a cold chill runs through your body as you wonder if these were taken from a corpse, too, and techno notices it enough to reassure you.

“gods will exchange these things, as a formality. gifts to give to our prized worshippers. on occasion, when alcohol flows too freely, someone will take the wrong gift,” he explains. “i receive weapons and armor, most often. those were meant for the greed god, i believe.”

“they’re incredibly fine, but...” you shift a little on your heel, knowing you’ve spoken too much to go back now. “clothes are simple, for a greed god. i wonder if he took someone else’s gift on purpose.”

techno studies your expression, sees your unease and refusal to meet his eye, and he can’t help but begin to laugh. “ha!” he exclaims, “you figured out what happens every time, just like that? you’re clever!”

the sound of his laughter doesn’t chill you, doesn’t terrify you-- it pitches so high, for the depth of his voice, ringing light and jovial bells that stir up the butterflies in your chest from their slumber. before you realize it, you find yourself swept up in the infectuous sound and start laughing, too.

it feels good. impossibly good, to laugh and feel a moment of ease sap away the tension that has kept you so on edge. when you both quiet down, you try to hang onto that feeling even after the moment has abandoned you. you watch as techno scans the wall of jewelry, before taking a few things down and laying them on top of the clothes in your arms. he seems to hesitate for a long moment, until he plucks a simple gold band from the wall, too. the gold is pure and beautiful, of course, but seems so plain next to the rest. your face must have betrayed enough of your surprise to prompt an explanation, because he says, “this is important. when you put on this ring, you must not take it off until we return here again. do you understand?"

"o-of course," you reply, a bit ruffled by the seriousness of his tone. that stays on your mind, even as he guides you back out of the room and to your own again. he tells you that he'll be back to collect you soon; you believe him, of course. for as miserable as your situation is, techno has never seemed to lie to you, or avoid giving the answers you search for from him. with that in mind, you begin to dress yourself in your newest gifts. and when you glance in the mirror, you recall your thought of treating this as a celebration of your life. something that you should enjoy, while you still can. you slip the simple gold ring around your finger as you meet your reflection's gaze.

mere days ago, you would never have thought of something like this happening to you. everything, from the oracle sending you here, to techno's intrigue in your existence, to this, dressing up in clothes you would never have been able to afford to attend a party for gods, has been unexpected and out of your control. you've been so powerless, drifting along with these strange things happening to you, because there's never been anything else you could hope to do in the face of it all. a knock upon your door catches your attention, and your distracted state makes you stumble over the words, "come in."

techno does, though a bit hesitantly. he stands in your doorway as he looks you over, eyes lingering for a moment on your hand before moving up to your face. you study him, too, seeing him clad in things even finer than he'd worn before. when he clears his throat, you look up to meet his eye. "good. i'm glad you're ready. we can go, now," he says, breaking your gaze after a brief moment.

you follow him when he leaves the room, guiding you back to the familiar stained glass wall. "does this... device, go both ways?" you ask as he steps forward to trace another pane.

"no, it doesn't. i dislike houseguests far too much to approve of that," techno responds. you close your eyes as light fills the room, finding that it's instinctive now; how strange, that you've grown accustomed to this absurd magic thing down the hall from your bedroom.

when you open your eyes again, you see a glorious dome of white marble before you with vines of the now-familiar stellae dianthus creeping along its walls. the floor looks like the ocean reflecting the night sky, inky-black and sparkling with stars. techno offers his arm to you and you lock yours through it, eyes wide in awe as he leads you forward. the floor ripples underfoot, like walking upon water, and flowers floating atop its surface part with the motion you've caused. as your shock wears off, you become aware of many voices and loud music all around you. though, the further techno guides you into the room, the quieter the voices go, until a hush leaves only the music behind.

you become aware of what feels like an intensely imposing presence from every angle, weighing you down and making your knees feel weak. realization fills you to your limit as you realize that you are in the company of many gods. if techno's presence alone had been imposing, this is simply crushing, making your head hurt more with every passing second.

the fullness of a voice interrupts the quiet as it exclaims, "brother!" you look up just in time to see a tall woman with the curved horns of a sheep surge forward, jostling techno away from you in her embrace. "i thought for certain you'd try to ditch again!"

you stare up at her with the same awe that techno had filled you with when you first met him, until she looks down, as if she had only just noticed you. her expression is warm; she looks so sincerely excited to see you, somehow. “a guest?” she breathes, grinning wide. “for the first time! the first time you’ve ever brought someone- ah!” the excitement seems to overtake her as she bends down to clasp your hands in her own. “come, let me introduce you! everyone’s going to be so surprised. well, maybe not as much as me... but my investment is personal, you know?” when she starts to pull you away, you look up to techno in concern. he gives you an apologetic grimace as his sister drags you to the other side of the room.

“people call me puffy cause my actual name is sort of long and pretentious. what should i call you?” she asks, curly white hair bouncing as she turns her head to look down at you again.

nervously, you give her your name, and when she’s pulled you to a small group along one of the walls, she repeats it loud enough for everyone to hear with a grin on her face. the group stares at you in surprise, taking in your measly mortal form before another woman steps forward. she’s strikingly beautiful, her hair like spun gold and a smile that blooms warmth in your chest. you feel peaceful around her, and the weight upon you subsides with her presence.

“my wife is a bit excitable, when it comes to her brother. i’m niki-- are you alright?” she asks.

all you can manage is a quick nod back at her before you stupidly blurt out, “gods get married?”

puffy laughs, the sound just as full as her voice. “of course! but it’s not the sort of thing we announce to mortals, usually, unless it’ll affect them.” she hands you a glass from a nearby table, filled with a bright purple liquid with pink swirls on its surface. when you look up at her, she says, “alcohol! i forgot you mortals still have the boring-looking stuff in your world.”

niki rests a gentle hand on your arm just before you tip your head back to drink. “be careful how much you have. it goes down easy, but it’s much stronger than anything a mortal would drink normally. a little is enough for you.”

“thank you,” you murmur back to her. when she drops her hand, you take a sip and find that she was telling you the truth. it’s impossibly smooth, and tastes nothing like any alcohol you’ve had. there’s nothing you can compare it to; all you know is that it’s smooth and sweet and a bit tangy. heeding niki’s warning, you stop yourself from drinking down half the glass then and there.

“drinking like a champ!” puffy tilts her glass towards you in acknowledgement before she tips her head back and finishes her own drink off. a feeling of warmth settles into your stomach, and all the tension begins to melt with its heat. this isn’t so bad, you think. a hand clasps your shoulder, and you glance over to see a tall man with blond hair and vibrant green eyes.

“you’re the talk of the whole party, you know!” he says. his hand slides from one shoulder to the other, so his arm wraps around them. “and i see why. where’s wilbur when you need him? he’d write poems about you, stunning as you are. i’m not that eloquent, myself.”

heat spreads over your face, and you can’t blame it on only the alcohol. “um, thank you,” you mumble, avoiding his piercing gaze. “you’re...?”

the man holds one of his hands out in front of both of you, and light forms at his fingertip as he traces the shape of a smiley face into the air, where it lingers for a long moment before fading away. “i’m dream.”

unease prickles over your body. dream? this is the man who had erased an entire country for taking his lover away? “oh, i’m-”

dream repeats your name for you. “trust me, i know,” he continues, “everyone does by now. word travels fast.”

a low voice comes from behind the two of you, remarking, “it does.”

when dream turns, he takes you with him, and you feel relief wash over you when you see techno standing in front of you. it’s foolish to feel comforted by his presence, knowing that he has every intention to kill you, but you can’t help it. he clears his throat, and you see him give a pointed look down, somewhere. the alcohol has you feeling like you’re drifting; you don’t know what it is that he looks at, but you feel dream back away from you in an instant when he sees where techno is looking.

“well, i’ve got people to socialize with. schlatt said he’d trade me for some crystal, and i’m gonna see if i can fool him about it,” dream says. he waves at you, and calls out to you as he walks away, “it was nice meeting you. cute ring, by the way.”

when you raise your hand to look at the ring, half expecting it to have changed to something less plain, techno gently takes it in his own. the music has gone softer, slower, and you notice a few sets of people swaying on the rippling floor. a man with horns like puffy’s spins a woman with long, purple hair on her heel. you watch her step on his foot, intentionally. he returns the favor moments later. there’s a boy with brown hair sitting on the shoulders of another boy with blond hair that looks to be about his age; they’re laughing, struggling through the steps of a waltz with a tall person split down the middle; one side as black as the floor and the other white like snow. this is a community, you realize. there’s children, there’s people married and in love and bickering, and it’s something you’ll never experience again. it feels as close to home as anything could, as you stand among gods a million miles away from everything you’d once known.

why did you have to leave? and why does this, the happiness of deities that had implicitly caused your sacrifice, feel like such a mockery of the pain in your chest that even alcohol can’t do away with altogether?

“let’s dance,” techno suggests, pulling you from your thoughts and to the middle of the room. it’s a bit awkward to posture yourself, with his height towering over yours, but you can’t mind it that much. he sways with you to the rhythm of the song, and you follow, feeling light on your feet as you try to push aside your ache.

techno spins you around, and you follow, feeling a smile take over your expression at the ease of moving over the strange floor beneath you. glowing flowers part with your steps, and you don’t think anything of it as he pulls you a little closer. he’s warm, sturdy against you, and the music carries you to move with him.

you look to where his hand holds your own. the strange starlight of the floor catches the gold around your finger, and you softly murmur, “techno?”

“yeah?” he murmurs back, thumb rubbing a circle over the back of your hand.

“why do i have to wear this ring? even dream commented on it.” you feel him get a little bit tense, his hand gripping yours tighter before he forces it to relax.

“i... it’s precaution,” techno replies. he must know that you won’t just allow it to be left at that, because he sighs a little after.

“against what?” you ask.

“uhh,” he hesitates while he turns you around again on the next beat, so that your back is pressed to him. “so no one else tries to take you, um, from me. other gods can be a bit... flirtatious. i wouldn’t want you gettin’ wrapped up with them. so it tells them to, um... not... do that.”

“...what?” you whisper, the tips of your ears burning. “you don’t want other people flirting with me?”

techno sucks in a breath, his heartbeat loud like a heavy drum behind you. “well it’s more- er, complicated than that. they’re dangerous. and if i, uh, lost you...”

“yeah?” you prompt, feeling a little breathless.

“i’d be breakin’ my promise. that’s why you have to wear it,” he finishes. as the song begins to shift into something more lively again and he lets you go, you wonder if what you feel in your heart is disappointment.

[ taglist! ]

@pogbitch @help-error @sunshinebutnorainbows @rizamendoza808 @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @william-bubbletea @amibismexy @jojoforthesoul @exorcisms-with-elmo @ishouldhavegonetobedsixhoursago @crazy-obsessed-fangirl @zero-nightshade @ctrpotis @beepa99 @rens-angel @kungfukookie

#mcyt x reader #technoblade x reader #reader insert #mcyt fanfiction #sally writings

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marveldc-imagines-hub · 4 years ago

Text

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.”

407 notes · View notes

writingtoforgetreality · 4 years ago

Text

Springing Forward (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

Request: hey there cathy! i’m a new follower and i was wondering if i might request a zemo x reader where it’s maybe pre ultron and reader’s family own a flower shop in sokovia and somehow through that they meet? idk i know it’s super random but i’ve got spring fever 😂 (by @msmarvelsmain), [Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: Your family owned a little flower shop. You assisted every now & then. One day, your parents had departed for a while, a man entered the store & changed your life forever.

Words: 3,255

Warnings: fluff, soft!Zemo, it is so sweet, I promise, pretty sure I didn't use any pronouns :), no TFATWS spoilers (you’re welcome), (Y/F/F) = your favorite flowers, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Spring was your favorite season of the year. Flowers started blossoming. Nature turned colorful again. Lush hues decorated the outsides. Your family owned a petite shop in the central of downtown in Sokovia. The store was your whole pride & joy. The façade was stacked with uneven, light grey cobblestones. The sign on top of the glass door was illuminated with a warm & congenial light. While you did not have that many guests, your regular customers supported you continuously. Helping out your parents had never bothered you. It was a family business. Your assistance was appreciated & the local citizens enjoyed whenever you served them.

Plants & flowers were your hobby. Somehow, they grew when you tended to them. You managed to flourish almost dead ones. That was one of your skills. Your handling with the people who visited your shop left a good impression. The earnings were not a fortune but you made do. The smiles of your pleased customers were enough to balance that out. Not even once had you been bad-tempered. If something bothered you, then you suppressed that negativity for the sake of your reputation. After all, it never had anything to do with the shop itself.

The mornings were your favorites. When the rest of the town was still fast asleep & the birds slowly awakened with rhythmical chirps. The slight breeze that touched your skin tenderly. The goosebumps erupting where your clothes did not cover you. Yet, you abandoned the thought of pulling over a jacket. As the hours ticked by, the sun would amplify, leaving you content with your tenuous t-shirt. Your parents had left town for relaxation. The shop would be solely yours for the upcoming days. Your little apartment was not far away from your workplace. The short walks back & forth were forever welcomed. During your lunch break, if your job & the weather allowed you that, you wandered through the narrow backstreets. Every corner was familiar but the small details that frequently transformed always fascinated you anew.

Years ago, you loathed leaving the country you were born in to start a new life here in Sokovia. Your parents were incomprehensibly overstrained with your whim that seemed to worsen daily. Friends were abandoned in the process of moving. The beginning in a foreign area was strenuous. Not only did it take a toll on you but on your parents as well. The loan enabled your family’s dream of owning their own shop. Independence was an indescribable feeling. Ever since, your fondness of this place had been increasing steadily. And while you would not exactly say that you had friends here, you definitely made a few acquaintances. Friendships would follow sooner or later. Besides, your work consumed almost all of your time. You lived to work & you worked to live. It was as simple as that. Your lifestyle functioned like that. It was exhausting, sometimes excessive, but you handled it just fine. Still, every now & then, you found yourself craving something. What that particular something was had yet to be discovered.

The delightful ringing of the bell whenever someone entered your shop reached your ears. It was early in the morning. Usually, the first costumers rolled in closer to lunch time. Not that you were complaining. Your body spun around, your apron getting stuck on an infinitesimal bump standing out of your oak wooden counter. Silent curses left your lips, too quiet for the stranger to hear. The struggles were noticeable & a presence approached you. You had yet to glance at the person but your delicate hands were busy with fiddling the fabric.

“May I?” a soft, accented voice spoke up & startled you slightly. Your eyes flickered up & locked with warm, chocolate brown ones. For a few moments, time stopped. Your heartbeat sped up. Something about this simple interaction let sparks burst. And when his lips turned into a gentle smile, you were gone for. Never before had something similar occurred. Especially not that quickly. It was obvious that you were staring a little too intensively. But his eyes did not leave yours, lingering just for a fraction longer. He had asked you a question. As an owner, you completely failed your task. You neither welcomed him in nor did you engage in a conversation. Coughing to hide the embarrassment, you averted your gaze & began.

“Welcome. Um, I’d really appreciate your help, thank you.” your voice wavered but it did not crack. His hands, covered by leather gloves, stretched out & he initiated the process of freeing you. The thick material that hid his fingers was offbeat. Average people tended to avoid gloves during this season. It was warm enough without them. Then again, this stranger did not strike you as average. This brief meeting was proof enough.

“There you go.” he commented after successfully liberating you. “As good as new.” he radiated a feeling that made you believe he was a well-spoken man. You were unsure how exactly you ended up with that conclusion.

“Thank you.” both of your hands reached to the hem of your apron, glancing down at it, checking for possible damages. But, as he alleged, it was perfectly fine. Another moment of silence went by, then you slowly returned to reality. You occupied your according place behind the counter. Back straightened & regained composure. “Apologies for my unprofessional behavior. I will ensure you a discount for your purchase. Right…what did you need?” your rambling was mortifying. Hiding your emotions was not necessarily one of your skilled characteristics.

“Please, do not bother with special treatments.” one of his hands raised in front of his chest, signaling that he was being serious. It did not change that, deep down, you felt poorly. “I was actually looking for…” a chuckle interrupted his speech. “I am uncultured regarding this area, truthfully. If you offer me your assistance now then the two of us are even.” the following wink made you all giddy. What was it about him?

“Okay, well…” your previous painstakingness was pushed down. “What is the occasion?” it was always surprising to gain new customers. His accent betrayed him a little. And what a sweet betrayal it was.

“A decisive meeting with a higher up. An efficient first impression would be convenient.” he enlightened you, choosing his words carefully. Well-spoken he was but that was manifested from the very beginning.

“Any preferred colors, types?” one of your eyebrows perked up. Moving your body around the counter & in the middle of the modest shop, you reacted unwillingly after brushing past his frame. Your shoulder barely grazing but enough to trigger uneven breaths.

“How does a common purchase for such an event look like?” you peered over your shoulder, a bit of amusement written over your features. While he appeared like a literate man, ten times wiser than you, this was a field you surpassed with ease. A quick glimpse on your forearm, where a barely functioning watch swathed your wrist caressingly, confirmed your previous assumption. There was still a load of time left until the shop’s actual occupation. You could bestow him your aggregate attention. The unnamed stranger absorbed your every word of your explanation. Your eyes sparkled with a newly witnessed enthusiasm. The fact that he did not heckle your talk during the entirety of your tour through the shop brought you desired satisfaction. He was the first person to display genuine interest in your employment.

“God, please excuse me trailing off. I did not intend to bore you.” all of a sudden, your energetic self switched to an insecure one.

“I can assure you that you did not bore me. Not for one second.” his affirming smile calmed your incertitude. Together, the two of you picked up various individual flowers. A compiled bouquet would portray him in the best light. Your hands moved on their own. You could still hold a conversation with the man on the other end of the wooden table. It separated the back of the shop from the front, main area. His fascination for you expanded by every further move you performed. Lastly, you wrapped the ends of the stems with a fine, almost sheer paper. To secure everything & hold it in place, you braided a ribbon that matched the color of the textile.

“All done.” you showcased the finished product to him, a small, gratified smile adorning your face. “What do you think?” the question was almost shy, it needed reassurance. Which made him ponder why you were so doubtful of yourself & your abilities. To him, you prepared the most gorgeous bouquet he had ever caught a sight of.

“Plainly astonishing.” his praise warmed you from deep within. “You really do have an unbelievable talent.” you thanked him quietly, eyes flickering down to avoid his intense stare. By no means was it displeasing or inadvertent. It was sweet & thoughtful. You wanted to extend his stay, fearing that this would be a one-time interaction. But you could not remain on this high you were currently experiencing. The sound of the entrance bell fetched you back to the present. Another customer that needed attendance. Your togetherness approached an undesirable end. Controlled fingers punched a well-rehearsed pattern into the cash register. The blue numbers flashed for the man in the coat to see. Gloves & a fur-coat during spring? He was the only living soul you had ever met that made it work.

A wallet was pulled out of his pocket. Fine fingers retrieved the money. A beat went by. Two. Almost like he wanted to savor the little time you two had left. But your duties called. He would not use up any more of your duration. Maybe he had already overstepped & his appearance was no longer welcomed or appropriate. The notes were handed over. Your movements like a slow motion scene in your favorite movie. The scenery grasping your every bit of attentiveness. It was something you wanted to remember. To think back & hope to perceive that same feeling you experienced during the first time. You reached for it. The moment his clothed hand touched your smooth skin stilled the world once again. The gentle brush of his thumb over the back of your hand could have been missed if it was not for your body to be this alerted.

“Thank you for your exceedingly helpful guidance, …?” his eyes looked up at you sheepishly. You knew what he was intending. It was a silent question for your name. And you were more than eager to comply.

“(Y/N).” it was short, adequate. His smirk held a deeper meaning. What it was exactly, you could not identify.

“Why, thank you, (Y/N).” his emphasis was on your name. The way it rolled from his tongue was mesmerizing. You found yourself craving to hear that sound constantly. But you were not even sure if it was naïve to hope for his return. He would exit any second. Leaving behind a pit only he could fill. Your train of thought converted into utter despair. He was your customer. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“You never told me your name.” you called out when he was almost out of the door. One last time, he glanced over his shoulder. The fur tickling his chin a bit. One last time, you studied the way his lips lifted. One last time, you believed.

“Helmut.” he replied. “It was nice meeting you.” his hand pushed the door open. His body moved through the doorway. As fast as he entered your life, he left just as quickly.

“You too.” you whispered but he was no longer here to listen to your words. Your face fell, the previous spark in your eyes completely gone. The person in front of you waited until you paid all of your attention to them. It took a lot of effort but you managed in the end. The only difference was that they were not him. Nobody would ever be him again. But he vanished. Like dust in the wind, blowing away his remaining scent that had filled your nostrils.

Was it possible to crave a person you barely knew? Your subconscious sprinkled salt in your wound. Brains could be ridiculous. Nonsense. The teasing of your dreams, in the dark of the calm night, was echoing. Ricocheting off the walls that kept your emotions buried inside. Similar to being the main character in a horror film, desperately looking for a way out but being trapped no matter what. Why were you reacting like that? Why did Helmut waltz into your shop without any restrictions, turning your entire life, your entire world, upside down? He was one mysterious man. Uncommon, remarkable. Someone who swept you off your feet by simply being. One charming smile & you were gone for. The first words he directed to you & he gained you wholly. The worst part of it all was that he had no idea what he did to you. He had no idea that your thoughts were solely revolving around him ever since his entrance to the store. His entrance to your heart. What was happening to you? You had to move on, that much was clear. Truth was, you abominated that thought. Your focus had to shift. Back to your work, back to your task.

The following day started off with a bad mood. Certainly, the upcoming hours would be draining. You could not allow the shop’s closure. Not even for a day. Your family’s existence depended on it. Everything was the same. Chirping birds, a cool breeze, a short walk. The peacefulness before customers visited. Yet, everything was not the same at all. Because there was this nagging feeling inside of you & you knew you could not get rid of it. The ringing sound caught you off guard. It was unusual. Only once had someone entered this early in the mornings. And this one time was yesterday. Your shock was visible. Helmut’s presence was unexpected but definitely not unsought.

“Helmut?” your voice was an octave higher. The excitement emitting from you.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” he strutted closer to you. The same gloves, the same coat. The same offbeat & arcane man.

“What brings you here today?” your head tilted, trying to find a possible explanation for his return. “Wait. Was the bouquet improper?” immediately, thousands of dark, negative thoughts were rushing through you. You did your very best with the flower’s arrangement. Never before had you spent this much time & effort.

“No, not at all.” one of his hands raised & rested on your shoulder, squeezing the tiniest bit. You had to take a deep breath in order to stay calm. As calm as it was possible with him around. “The exact opposite. Which is why I am here again. Could you assist me once more?”

“Of course. What were you envisioning? Who are the flowers for?” your elbows propped onto the countertop, gazing lovingly into his orange shining brown eyes.

“I meant to ask for your favorites. You strike me as one with fantastic taste.” Helmut certainly had a way with words. No matter what he said, you found yourself captivated by him. The topic could be dreary but he made it sound fascinating.

“My favorites? It’s tough to choose one when there are so many stunning options.” you quieted down for a few seconds to really contemplate your answer. It was flattering that he asked for your opinion. “If you make me pick then I’d say…hmm, probably (Y/F/F).”

“Perfect. I would like to purchase a bouquet then.” right away, you got to work. Helmut watched your skilled hands. His enthusiasm only died down when he saw the frown forming on your face. “What is it?”

“Huh?” you were in your thoughts. His question was almost missed by you.

“That frown. Where is it coming from?” only Helmut could be so straight forward about such a small detail he had noticed. Would you tell him the truth? You should not. He did not need to know that your mood turned sour because he bought more flowers. This time, he did not let you know about the purpose of them. Another dinner with a higher up? Highly unlikely. But not entirely impossible. You assumed he would gift them to a woman. Hence why you sidestepped his question masterly.

“I believe it happens when I’m focused on my task.” you hoped your smile was reassuring but Helmut saw right through you. In the end, he did not comment on it. There was a building tension between you two. This time around, there were no lingering touches. He left the shop once again & it was clear that this was it. Helmut would not come back again. And maybe it was for the better. Your heart was too fragile to be crushed by his bare hands. It was not fair to blame basically a stranger. He had a life you had no insight on. But the aching could not be ignored.

Just as you wanted to lock the door to your shop for your lunch break, a voice reached your ears, followed by hurried footsteps. Turning around to look for the cause of it, you were shocked for a second time today. It was Helmut. The same bouquet he had purchased earlier clasped in one of his hands. The other one balanced two cups of coffee. As much as you wanted to withhold your smile, it was inevitable to repress.

“(Y/N)!” he was slightly out of breath. “I expected you were gone already.”

“Good that your expectation was wrong.” the warmth that filled your body was endearing.

“Here.” he handed you the flowers & your eyebrows furrowed. “For you.” he explained further when you made no move to reach for them.

“Why?” you inquired but grabbed the bouquet from him anyway. His posture relaxed & the grip on the cups was more secure.

“May I invite you on a walk through the town?” he suggested shyly. “I brought you coffee. I do hope it is after your liking?” the last part was a question. A sign that he doubted himself the slightest.

“I’m sure it’ll be delightful.” you eased his mind immediately. The cup was placed in your other hand. “Could you wait here for a minute? I should put them in a vase.” he motioned for you to go ahead. Your heart was doing backflips. It all fell into place now. You pieced everything together. He asked for your favorite flowers earlier today because he intended to give them to you. His plan was to spend your lunch break together. Helmut really went out of his way for you. His efforts were mellow. Returning outside once again, he patiently stood in the same spot. The softness of his features were rare on a man like him. You had met people similar to him but he was different. Helmut was that type of many who bought you flowers & made time to spend more with you.

You knew the town by heart. So did Helmut. But exploring the beautiful spots together felt like you were espying every corner, every building, for the very first time. Conversation flowed easily. Laughter was shared, loving glances were exchanged. He gave you a feeling of belonging. Like you were supposed to be right here from the very beginning. It felt right. With a man like him on your side, your life quality would finally improve. Helmut would be the one to quench your cravings. And you would not want it any other way.

Published (05/04/2021) by Cathy

✨MY Ko-fi PAGE✨

Tags: @takacsgram, @hiddlestoner-cumberbitch, @bibliophilewednesday, @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @trelaney, @sebastian-stan-d-on-my-throat, @thewinterrbucky, @loveinthemadness, @princess-yuna (thanks for your support <3)

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enha-woodzies · 4 years ago

Text

➸ CHAPTER 8 | " AFIRE LOVE "

starring: enhypen ft. i-land daniel

pairing: jungwon x fem!reader x sunghoon

genres: royal au, romance, angst, slowburn, 18th century setting

word count: 3.8k

warning: very mild swearing; brief arguments

taglist: @serendipitysung (betareader) @angeljungwon @en-sun @affectionaterainoflove @renkiv @softforjungwoo @jislix @gyeraniee @fluffi @stxrryemxlys @jungwon-luv-bot @lost-lepord-beanie @hyunsunge

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a/n: this has been the longest chapter in the series so far and i'm loving it. grateful for taylor swift's songs that helped me through this chapter also,, please listen to exile as it ideally expresses the ruination between jungwon and y/n (and also an addition to the burning feels,, ㅋㅋ)

Daniel paid a visit to the Royal Garden to fetch his brother, Jungwon, a few Catalpa flowers that were freshly scattered on the royal lawn. In hopes that his brother could still mend the book’s soul by giving a home to the fallen blossoms, Daniel obliged to help when he saw Jungwon’s crestfallen state the moment he got home from Kielder Forest the other day.

The tall, plump gent hums a tune, oblivious enough to the presence of the pair that were roaming around the garden prior to his arrival. He peeks through the side as he noted the familiar voice, gently tiptoeing through the crisp, dried leaves and twigs sprawled along the ground. He soon realizes it was the marquess and the young miss, sharing careful whispers that made him eager enough to eavesdrop.

He could hear everything but dare not open his eyes. Daniel knew he must keep still while he waited for the perfect opportunity to run back to their manor, bearing the newfound knowledge he grasped.

If it was Sunoo, he wouldn't have second thoughts. Though Daniel's ordeal prevented him the first time, he soon remembered how menacing Sunghoon was and grew concerned for the young miss’ innocence, all the while hiding among the shrubs for a determined snoop.

“So long as Jungwon keeps his emotions repressed, this ruse shall continue on.”

Daniel’s eyes widened in horror upon hearing the young miss’ affirmation to Sunghoon’s statement.

Without wasting any more of his time, he cautiously bore the silence until he reached the Park’s manor to apprise Niki of such mischief.

“Niki! Niki! Niki”

“What?!”

“Y/n’s made a deal with the devil himself.”

START OF YANG JUNGWON's POV

I sat and observed you reading with your head bowed. The world was quiet and peaceful that night, and your small hand was wrapped around my finger. Your touch brought forth an omnipresent coolness, sending electric tingles throughout my body. My longing for you fitted perfectly in the palm of your freezing hand. We quietly sat there, your head on my shoulder, in a perpetual moment of tender affection; beautiful and serene. The silence was wonderful, and it was utterly a whole different level of ecstasy.

We were ten, and you were starting to doze off.

I was awake and I watched you breathing with your eyes closed and parted lips. You held my Austen book closer to your chest where it can feel your thumping heartbeat. Your newly untied braids were all over your face. Wavy locks everywhere. I gently stroke them away from your cheeks that were of rosy hue due to the chilly night’s air. And because you were dreaming, your little eyelids fluttered. I noticed that. So I tucked you inside our self-made fort, and positioned us in front of your favorite night light— the moon. I sat and observed you, taking note of everything you did and did not do.

Do you recall how we were sitting by the lake that morning? It was the first time I draped my arm around your shoulders. The golden sun reflected on your tinted cheeks just perfectly, gradually seeing them come to a blush. I don’t know if it was a color of a burn from the summer heat, or just simply out of shyness from the flirtatious gesture and dialogues we had shared over time.

That was something I'll never forget. And because it's all I've ever known, I prepared myself for the anticipated goodbye. You caught me off guard, "I'll never depart from you," you said.

We were ten, and I was foolish enough to take those brief moments for granted.

Three years flew by right before our very eyes and the parting of ways came upon us. You begged me not to leave because If I do, you’d curse me for the rest of our lives. But what am I to do? It was university, it was my future… our future, if not dubiously relevant. I may have only been thirteen at the time, but I was certain of you.

But I didn’t listen. I never did.

I left.

And it was then that I realized, my future wasn’t there. It was sitting among the grassy lawn, reading poesies and verses to each other under the incandescent glow of the sunny daze. It was sharing silly whispers and passing secret notes of flatteries, tucking Catalpa flowers behind your ears, or making a beautiful crown out of it for the beautiful princess that’s been hopelessly sitting right under my nose this whole time.

I said, “I won’t ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay.” But you did ask me. And I was never ready, so I watched you go. Selfish as I was then, I knew you’d come back to me.

So there I was, sitting in my new room in the dormitory in a big city. I remember I couldn’t sleep the first night. All I did was toss and turn; sheets were shuffling on and on for hours. Like a typical little boy who was taken away from his family. Homesickness as they call it. But I guess mine was sickness for an undeclared love left hanging like our sheer fort on the hopeless branch of the Catalpa tree.

It was colder than I thought it would be. I kept recalling myself leaving. You gave me a yearning look, your gaze bore into my eyes, I swore I heard my heart break into little shards. But the deafening echoes couldn’t be compared to the shattering of yours, and all I ever gave you was goodbye.

I bet you were still up sitting on your chair by the window overlooking the majestic moon, wondering about me. So I tried the hardest to tuck myself in and face the window where your favorite night light was. I kept whispering empty wishes. I wished that I could run back to you.

Many days I thought of writing you letters. It took everything in me not to, as a string was tugging me back, telling me that the little notes I tucked in between the pages of the Austen book that I lent you could suffice for my five-year-long absence. The said string being the educational pressures that were gradually sucking the memories I had left of us.

I hope you know that every time that I didn’t, I almost did.

You embodied many, different ways of every emotion that crept through me. Though I knew it was going to hurt me, I went ahead and did it anyway.

Five years flew by so fast. Or maybe just for me. I finally graduated from university together with your brothers and mine. So much has happened while I was there that I almost didn’t notice the changes in me. There were several fooleries that the boys and I went through just to have a taste of the uncivilized life we weren't raised to have. There was this time I even helped your brother, Niki, with a gruesome fight against some kid who was foretold to be the next duke of our country. Those may be silly times to ponder now, but the damage it did to us and mostly to Niki was inexpressible.

I was eighteen, and the last memories I had of us were from we were ten. Maybe I tried to forget that day badly. That day where I stood and watched you hide behind the trees from afar, keeping those tears to yourself without me anywhere near you to wipe them all away like I always do.

I vowed to not hold myself back and not be held by the agonizing memories of a thousand yesterdays. I never realized how much it still pains you even upon my return.

Both our families held a welcoming back dinner at your place. There we were, after five long years of separation and silence, traipsing down the halls that we once ran through, forcing laughter and faking smiles just so we won’t ruin the genuine delights in our dear mothers’ eyes.

I was only eighteen, I didn’t know much but I knew I missed you. I’d tell you but I don’t know how. I do, however, know where it all went wrong. I just couldn't find the courage in me to approach and ask you for an apology.

Where was I? Where was the boy who’d throw a mantle over your braided locks, pretending to be the wizard to your witch?

Do you still remember? The notes I shamelessly tucked between the Austen book I lent you just to get my silly feelings across? Do you still have these little memories of us collected inside your imaginary heart-shaped locket?

I left many notes there, and though you possibly forgot most of them, they still hung around me, and I could vividly recall them like it was yesterday. From the flirtatious dialogues and striking remarks to the underlined phrases I wholly dedicated to you, the following parchments started to become like an entire page of paper with my inconsistent handwriting.

I vented out my daily adventures and mundane activities into those stained parchments that I stole from my late father’s study. Until suddenly, all the letters were about you. It collected all my immature yet genuine emotions. It was always about you, seldom me, and hardly ever us.

For the many years that I’ve hurt you, left you hanging, and witnessed our promises get constantly broken, I could only hope for better days waiting ahead for us. If not to me, at least to you. You deserve more than I could even offer. You always have, and I'm afraid I may not be a potential candidate to meet you halfway.

A year has passed and we’re now about to be offered for marriage. Not to each other though. There we were, standing in a crowded room under the bedazzling chandeliers and along with the tunes from the people eliciting them.

I felt my hands trembling in fear that eventful night. We exchanged brief and stolen glances and I was desperate to know, was the yearning killing you too?

I saw you nervously pulling your dress in an attempt to look busy, while I was doing my best to avoid you. I’ve never heard silence quite this loud.

Jay gave me the chance to redeem myself. You had no idea how much I desired to secure you in a long and firm embrace the moment you walked closer to me in that library. But you said those words. Yes! Those words were made up of aching memories that lingered around my soul for a while, but I dared not to give any of my attention to.

My deepest apologies for leaving you behind, again.

I dropped your hand while dancing and left you standing there in an awfully eerie room in such a woeful state. I let you slip beyond my reach, and I fear I can't give you any reasons in the aftermath. I was nowhere to be found then, and I hate the crowds, you know that. But I wanted to return to you after I'd composed myself in the powder room, though it utterly shattered me the moment I ran back to the hall.

I saw you dance with him. With the boy who was now a man. The man who was chosen by Niki’s old flame. The old flame that caused the gruesome fight between the two boys several years back. And the man who’s now trying to take you away from my reach; the unreachable string I couldn’t ever pull passionately close to me.

I heard my heart smash to smithereens. I was hopelessly wishing in the back of my mind that you wished it was me. You wished it was me you’re holding firmly in those little, flimsy fingers, lovingly waltzing you to your wildest dreams.

While I just stood there, under the dimly lit corner of the court, dreadfully gazing upon the sight that gave the entire ton heart-shaped eyes and promising prophecies.

My dearest, Y/n. For dearest you will always be. I want you to know that I’d wilfully live and die for moments that we stole on begged and borrowed time.

Because I held my pride like I should've held you.

END OF YANG JUNGWON's POV

The hot topic immediately spread among the Yang and Park siblings the following morning, excluding Y/n’s awareness of such matters. The boys were determined enough to keep their knowledge unsuspected to the mischievous pair. Although Jay and Niki were aggravated by the news, they saw it best to confront their sister in a more fortunate time.

On the contrary, Jungwon is enraged enough to retreat from their manor to give the young miss an impulsive lecture. He sets off with his horse, speedily galloping to the heart of the Kielder Forest.

“Y/n! I know you're here! You and I need to talk!” Jungwon aimlessly calls out as he takes quick steps to where her fort was situated, “Y/n!”

“What?!” The lass crawls out of her sheer fortress, looking utterly pissed with the boy’s sudden commotion.

“Have you lost your wits?!”

“I have no idea what you're talking about, Jung.”

“You made a ruse with Sung- god, Y/n! What were you thinking?!” Jungwon runs his fingers through his ebony locks with definite frustration plastered all over his face, making Y/n flinch from his sudden whine.

“How did you-”

“How I discovered such a ridiculous act isn't of concern right now. Goodness, Y/n, I expected more from you!”

“Well, you should've expected less then!” She fiercely retorts.

“For god’s sake! You don't even know that man!”

“More like I know you? I couldn't even recognize you anymore!”

“That man has set his record with your brother-”

“Do not put Niki into this so as to protect your dying ego.”

“Then what’s all this? What's in it for him, huh? What did you offer Sunghoon that got your mind twisted?”

“A piece of my fucking mind because you were too dumb to even care! And don't you dare speak of him like you're mighty enough to reproach the man whose only desire was to help me!”

“Tell that to your brothers who feel shamefully betrayed right now by your reckless behavior!”

Jungwon heaves a sigh the moment Y/n goes quiet. The atmosphere suddenly went numbingly silent for a while. What with all the nonstop outbursts they both threw at each other, they forgot to stop and catch their breaths in the maddening heat of the moment.

Y/n breaks the deafening silence with light sniffles and soft sobs, tilting her head away from Jungwon’s sight. He witnesses her tears again for the first time in a very long while. It pains him to see her like this, but what shatters his soul, even more, is that he's the reason why her tears keep falling… and he couldn't take a step closer to wipe them away knowing they hadn’t resolved their previous fight.

So he stands there, mere inches away from her, hands so close yet so far, fists clenched tightly to stifle the urge to touch her, until Y/n feels a sudden rush of electricity through her entire body; Jungwon pulled her into a comforting embrace, making her snurfle into the warmth of his chest.

“Forgive me, I… I’m just very disappointed. For the longest time I’ve known you, not once did it ever occur to me that you would go this far to get my attention. I’m just worried for you.” With a hand holding onto her waist tightly, and the other, resting on her nape, Jungwon softly whispers against her ear while stroking her hair gently until her breathing calms down.

Y/n couldn't help but gradually crawl her arms around his slim waist, crumpling a handful of his jabot shirt from the back in desperation to suppress further sobs from embarrassing her. All of her raging thoughts suddenly came to a halt the moment their bodies connected with each other.

It was as if she's meant to be in this moment with him, to bathe in his comfort, to be in this dreamy embrace. It would be a lie for Jungwon to say he didn't want this. He was, after all, anticipating for such a moment to hug her like now. It's quite unfortunate that it had to be under such circumstances.

“Why does my involvement with Sunghoon bother you so much? Is it only because of Niki?” Y/n looks up to Jungwon, making the two merely inches apart from brushing their noses. Jungwon knew that he'd get lost in her compelling eyes, so he stared down at her parted, pinched lips-- though he wished he didn't at that moment, but he was too late. He finds himself running his tongue across his lips, all the while parting it as he tries to think of any far-fetched reasons to answer her question.

He lifts his thumb and grazes it over her flushed cheeks. Her tear-filled eyes still glisten as Jungwon leans closer, making Y/n shut them in an instant. Although she’s quite in a chagrin in their current position, Jungwon finds her unshakable figure as a sign that she's relaxed in his presence, making him feel less deterred from keeping her in his arms a little longer.

The chap plants soft kisses on her closed eyes that made Y/n inhale sharply. The fleeting, feather-like touches on her eyelids were more than enough for the lass to bathe herself in such momentary bliss. The moment she flutters her eyes open, her gaze meets his as he rests his forehead on hers.

“I hate seeing you cry. These beautiful eyes aren't meant for such miseries.” He whispers to which his breaths fan against her exhales.

“You always make me cry.” Jungwon softly chuckles at her slightly pouting lips, simultaneously thinking how lovely would it feel to have his lips locked on hers.

“Jay would genuinely torture me if he sees us right now.” Jungwon scrunches his nose as he playfully bumps it with hers.

“What would he do if he found us out? Let me go then.” She teases. Her hands find their way from his waist, to his nape, while playing with the little mullet he outgrew since the summer.

“I could never.”

Y/n sighs. His words had two meanings and fortunately, she's smart enough to know what he really meant. To answer her previous question, he wanted to tell her how much he loves her-- but his tongue is tied, and he can only let out gentle breaths and husky whispers. He couldn't find any words that would perfectly encompass his brimming emotions to her.

So he fails himself again with a shrug of his thoughts.

“Do you ever think we should just stop doing this?” He asks.

“What do you mean?”

“All these silly banters and stolen, longing stares. Could you be happy here with me?”

“The past few weeks have been nothing but emotional for me, Jung. You shut me out, then you take me back. You anger me lots yet in one swift move, you knock the wind out of my lungs. I’d be lying if I told you I’m not on top of the world sharing this moment with you right now. Because I am. I am happy. I don't think I would be if not with you.”

Then let’s run away right now. Let’s leave everything behind and run away together. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. That was what he wanted to say. But he gulps down all other thoughts and lets out the opposite.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home.” He says.

The trip home was merely nothing but laughter and barbs as Jungwon shares embarrassing stories of her brothers while they were in university; trying their very best to ignore the desperate elephant in the room.

With hands constantly brushing against each other as they take their every step, Jungwon was downright close to seizing her hand completely and interlocking it with his.

“To be fair, this has been the only thing that's made the past agonizing weeks bearable.” He concludes the uplifting momentum as they walk closer to her humble abode.

“I'm ready to try again if you are?” Y/n mutters under her breath, but Jungwon clearly caught every single word. He slowly pulls away from the almost closed gap between them, looking at the ground like he always does when he's conflicted.

“What is it, Jung? Have I said something wrong?”

Jungwon shrugs his head in disapproval, though he wishes she hadn't said those words.

“I… I’m sorry. It's just…”

Jungwon thought there should've been a time and place, but this wasn't it. He doesn't want to take advantage of her vulnerability right now especially when Jay's trusted him enough to not fuck things up. With Sunghoon in the way and Niki's emotions in turmoil, he couldn't bear inserting himself in the middle of chaos, insinuating confusions any further when he could've been a better friend to Y/n rather than putting her feelings in silence.

Y/n was expecting this. Every time she and Jungwon would share a rather momentous moment, he’d chicken out and ghost her for however long he desired until he felt the need to pop back into her life again and tug at her heartstrings.

She stares at Jungwon's figure almost disappearing into the wild night. He ran away with deafening thoughts, while she stood there with a crushed heart… again.

With sadness, she realizes they need some time apart.

It's been a long, dragging week for the ton. Tranquil for some, as not many revelations from the Daily Tattle have been uncovered as of late.

The Park siblings have yet to talk about the matter of Y/n being a quisling to Sunghoon's endeavors. As of the moment, the young marquess continues on with his dilly-dallying courtship with the young miss, obliviously promenading her with genuine intentions this time around.

Jungwon and Y/n had only been apart for a week and already, he had a new lover hanging off his arm.

Unbeknownst to Y/n, Jungwon was having troubles with his thoughts and feelings as he saw her, yet again, traipsing around the park with an arm comfortably hanging onto Sunghoon.

With Y/n, he'd had some wonderfully stable times. But seeing how her smiles go from cheek to cheek and echoing laughter with the marquess’ presence makes her genuinely happy, Jungwon thought it’d be best if he stops himself from holding her back and enjoy her liberty without the past binding her like a prisoner of what could’ve been.

Sunghoon looks at her the same way he does. It churns his insides just thinking about it.

Yet he fears this might have to be his time to back away.

That week-long separation seemed to last forever for Jungwon as he finally concludes that he is no longer deserving of her hand anymore. Now that it's apparent that it’s about to be promised to another.

*send me an ask or a message if you wish to be added on this series' taglist!

ㅡ © ENHA-WOODZIES, 2021

#kpopscape #enhypenwriters #enhypennetwork #of lords and mischiefs #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen fics #enhypen series #enhypen jungwon #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen niki #iland daniel

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musicprincess1990 · 4 years ago

Text

The Best of Me - for ILY Anniversary 2021

This is inspired by the song by The Starting Line. I was listening to my #TeenYears playlist (yes, that’s the title I picked, sue me), and I noticed the album cover featured the words, “Say it like you mean it.” Um, hello TFP vibes! And then I started the song over, paying attention to the lyrics, and BOOM! A fic was born! Starts out with a bit of post-TRF pining, leading up to a TFP finish. And it’s a long one, so catch the whole story below the cut.

Happy Sherlolliversary, everyone! 😘

Here we lay again, on two separate beds

Riding phone lines to meet a familiar voice

And pictures drawn from memory.

It started after the fall… some months later, in the midst of yet another doomed-to-fail relationship with some other not-him bloke. Molly didn’t know why she seemed to measure time both by her own failed relationships, and by his major life events, but there you go. After a ten-hour shift, a disappointing date, and an extra glass of wine, she was more than ready to pack it in for the night.

She’d only just hit the mattress when her phone buzzed, and she whimpered in dismay, assuming it would be Mike needing her for a last-minute post-mortem. She considered ignoring it and claiming she’d been asleep, when a second text sounded. With a sigh, she rolled onto her side and unlocked her phone. It wasn’t Mike after all, but two messages from a blocked number. Again, she thought about ignoring them, not keen on starting a conversation with a stranger, when a third text came through, and she began to wonder… Sitting upright, she tapped on the notification and opened her messages, her heart leaping to her throat as she read:

IN A SAFE HOUSE IN SARAJEVO.

COULD DO WITH A FRIENDLY VOICE.

MOLLY?

It had to be him… it just had to be! No one else she knew had any need for a “safe house.” And besides that, no one else would have been so cryptic, so confusing. Sherlock Holmes never talked about his feelings, in fact, half the time he pretended not to have any. This was bordering on soul-baring for him! Why? Why now? Why her? Well, she supposed it the fact that the rest of his friends thought he was dead might have something to do with it. Even so, what had happened to make him seek her out like this?

A fourth text came through, interrupting her thoughts.

MAY I CALL YOU?

Sherlock Holmes, asking for permission? Now she’d well and truly seen everything! Anxious and delighted and terrified all at once, she quickly tapped out a reply in the affirmative, and waited. It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds before her phone lit up with the incoming call. In her haste to answer it, she dropped the silly thing on the floor, swearing loudly as she flopped onto her stomach to reach for it. And, of course, to her embarrassment, the line was connected, meaning he heard it all. Molly pressed the phone to her ear and whispered, “Sherlock?”

A loud exhale, and then a familiar voice, “Hello, Molly.”

She let out a watery laugh. “Oh, my God, it’s you! How are you? Oh, God, stupid question—”

“Molly, it’s fine,” he cut her off. “I am… as well as can be expected.”

Her brow creased with worry. “Are you okay? I mean, is it… going well?”

A beat of silence. “As well as can be expected,” he repeated.

Clearly, she was not going to get a wealth of information from him on that front. Not that she was certain she wanted all the gory details—knowing who he was dealing with, “gory” would most definitely be the right word. Still, he had instigated this phone call, she wouldn’t let him get away with perfunctory answers. Shifting a bit so that she was leaning against the headboard, she asked, “What made you decide to phone me?”

“You weren’t answering your texts. Figured you had gone into shock.”

She chewed on her lip a moment. “Well… you’re not wrong. It did surprise me.”

“Yeeeesss, I’d gathered that,” he drawled in that posh, pompous tone of voice she never thought she would come to miss.

“Truth be told, it wasn’t just the fact that you texted that came as a surprise, it’s what was in the text.” She paused here, waiting to see how he would respond. When he said nothing, she went on, “I suppose even the great Sherlock Holmes needs to phone a friend once in a while.”

“Don’t do that,” he said abruptly. “I’m not ‘the great Sherlock Holmes’ now, am I? I’m just…” he hesitated for a moment, “…just Sherlock.”

Molly’s breath came out in a whoosh. So that was why. Just like she had before, when he looked sad, she saw him clear as day… even if she couldn’t physically see him. This mission, this seemingly insurmountable task, she couldn’t even imagine how difficult it must be. It had to be taxing, even for Sherlock, who always seemed so detached from the situations. But deep down, he was still a man, he still felt things, and he still needed friends.

“Molly?”

His tone was soft, but filled with anxiety, and she realized she’d been silent for some time. She put on a smile, making sure he would hear it in her voice, and whispered, “I’m here, Sherlock. What do you need?”

A quiet laugh sounded on the other end of the line, followed by a one-word answer: “You.”

We turn our music down, and we whisper,

“Say what you're thinking right now.”

Tell me what you thought about

When you were gone and so alone.

Sherlock’s phone calls became something of a regular thing after that. Whenever he felt a little too human, or when he didn’t feel human enough. Molly was happy to act as his anchor to his old life, to keep him afloat when he could easily drown in the work, the pain, the loneliness. Even when being his anchor often meant being woken up in the middle of the night.

She never asked him to explicitly talk about his thoughts and feelings, knowing what a minefield that conversation would be, but she always asked what he was doing, usually regarding his mission. That was familiar territory for him, talking over the details of a case, discussing the possibilities and bouncing ideas off another person. It was this familiarity, she thought, that most soothed him, reminded him of home.

These calls varied in frequency and length over the years, but they always came. Through the horrors he faced in dismantling Moriarty’s network, through her engagement to Tom, through his four-minute exile (ooh, she’d had some choice words for him about that), and though Mary’s tragic death.

He called her almost daily after that. She wasn’t entirely sure he really wanted to hear her voice, or if, while John was being a git and ostracizing him, any friendly voice would do. She decided not to care, and to just be there for him anyway.

One call in particular stood out to her, the night of his birthday. They’d gone for cake earlier in the day, and he’d been pleasant enough, but awfully silent. John had seemed almost back to his normal self, and Rosie was an adorable bundle of energy, effectively distracting all three adults from their own loneliness.

That night, she returned with Sherlock to Baker Street, for the “night shift.” After a few minutes spent scrolling silently through his emails, he announced he was going to bed. Molly waited a bit before shuffling up the stairs into John’s old room, which had been converted into a guest-room-slash-laboratory. The door was left open in case Sherlock started puttering about in the middle of the night, she would hear him and be down to help him, if needed.

Molly had just settled onto the bed when her phone rang, and Sherlock’s name appeared.

What?

“Sherlock?” she answered hesitantly.

“I realize you’re just upstairs, and I could easily have gone up there or had you come down here, but this seemed a bit more…”

A little smile tugged at her lips. “Familiar?”

He exhaled slowly. “Yes.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I don’t mind.”

“Thank you, Molly. For everything.”

Jumping to conclusions

Made me fall away from you;

I'm so glad that the truth

Has brought back together me and you.

“What is she doing?”

“She’s making tea.”

“Yes, but why isn’t she answering her phone?”

“You never answer your phone.”

“Yes, but it’s me calling…”

“If it’s true, just say it anyway.”

“You bastard.”

“Say it anyway.”

“You say it. Go on, you say it first… Say it. Say it like you mean it.”

“I-I… I love you.”

Molly dropped her phone as the line went dead, then slid to the floor as sobs wracked her entire body. She didn’t… she couldn’t begin to think… why had he asked that of her? After all the years he’d known her, all the time he’d been calling her out of the blue… She’d never once asked him to…

Her stomach lurched, and she scrambled up to her feet just in time to vomit into the sink. Her body felt hot and cold and shivery and aching all at once. Funny, the scientist in her thought, how a broken heart can have noticeable physiological effects on a person. She was in fact ill, bit of a cold, but it was that horrible conversation, not a silly little virus, that had made her stomach decide to violently expel its contents.

That wasn’t the worst of it, though. No, the worst part was finding an old letter Sherlock had written, sometime during his absence from London, near the end. She remembered getting it in the post, and quickly shoving it into a safe, secret place, where Tom wouldn’t find it. He was at her flat no more than five minutes later, picking her up for a date. He proposed to her that night, and she completely forgot about the letter… until today. She’d found it while rooting around her cupboards, looking for her favorite citrus tea, the one she always made whenever she felt ill. Its contents had nearly shocked her cold right out of her system.

Dear Molly,

I don’t know if this letter will reach you. There are so many unknowns at the moment. I don’t even fully know why I’m writing. I simply wished to express my gratitude for everything you have done for me. I know that I have caused you pain many times, and in all probability, I will do so again. And yet, after seeing the absolute worst of me, you are still my friend. That fact baffles me more than any other mystery I have encountered.

When I return, yours is among the first faces I look forward to seeing again. I wish I could offer an estimated time frame, but that is one of the many unknowns I now face. But the one thing that I know is certain, the one thing I can cling to, is that you are, and always will be, a dear friend. You matter more to me than you realize, Molly Hooper.

Love,

Sherlock

Tears had welled in her eyes, and anger pulsed in her veins, boiling her blood with every word. Anger toward him, for writing such a letter, instead of calling her. It was cowardly, no matter how lovely the letter was (dear God, was it lovely!), and when he returned just a few months later, he said nothing. He gave no indication that he even remembered the letter, or the fact that he’d written it! Why?

Because you were engaged, a traitorous voice whispered. And then her anger shifted, now aimed toward herself.

If she had read the letter before Tom proposed that night… she would have said no.

And then she was angry with him again, for not fighting for her, not saying what was clearly visible between every word on every line of that damned letter.

He loved her.

Or so she had thought.

After that phone call… she couldn’t be sure of anything. If he really loved her, how could he do this to her? Forget making her say the words, as impossible as that felt, how could he treat it all like an experiment? Treat her like an experiment? Her anger and her desperation battled through the entire conversation, with anger eventually winning out, though it expressed itself with an eerie calmness.

You say it first.

Well, he had. But only because she’d told him to.

God knew he’d never have said it otherwise.

Molly trudged into the bathroom and brushed her teeth, washing away the sour taste in her mouth. She never had finished making her tea, but she was too exhausted to even contemplate remaining upright for another minute longer than necessary. Instead, she went straight into her bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, falling quickly into a fitful sleep.

The knock on her door startled her awake, and somehow she knew exactly who it was, even before his voice followed the pounding, begging her to let him in. She scowled in the direction of her door, rolled onto her other side, and smashed her pillow over her ear. Eventually, one of her neighbors would complain, maybe even call the police. That, or he’d pick the lock… and if he did, she’d call the police. Probably Greg, oooh, he’d love that! There wouldn’t be any real consequences—big brother Mycroft had far too much pull for that—but it would be humiliating for Sherlock. Served him right, after he humiliated her.

The pounding and the shouting stopped suddenly, and she foolishly let herself believe he’d finally gone. But a moment later, her phone chimed with an incoming text. Then another, and then another after that. Equal parts annoyed and curious, Molly finally sat up and grabbed her phone to read the idiot’s texts.

PLEASE LET ME IN. LET ME SAY IT AGAIN.

I DON’T WANT TO DO IT OVER TEXT. YOU DESERVE BETTER THAN THAT.

PLEASE, MOLLY.

Unless…

Molly’s head spun by the end of the third text. Say it again? Did he mean…? Oh, of course he meant that, what else could he be talking about? But why the hell did he need to say it again? Wasn’t once—well, twice—enough torture for one night?

A fourth text lit up her phone.

IF YOU WON’T LET ME IN, WILL YOU AT LEAST LET ME CALL YOU?

She almost laughed. Answering his call was what got her into this mess, wasn’t it? And yet, against her better judgment, that cursed curiosity forced her to type out a reply.

OK.

Sherlock sighed at the response, his hand shaking as he pressed the phone to his ear, listening to the dial tone. He ran through a thousand opening sentences in his head in the time it took for her to answer the call, and the moment he heard her voice, forgot every single one of them.

“What do you want, Sherlock?”

Her voice was raw, probably from crying, and oh, how he hated himself for doing that to her. But broken as it was, her voice was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

“You,” he replied, his own voice matching hers. “Always you.”

She sobbed, and the sound went straight to his heart, piercing it, shattering it. “Then why—” she was interrupted by another sob, “—how could you—”

“I’ll tell you everything,” he said quickly. “Everything you need to know, but not like this. For now, I just need to say one thing.” Sherlock drew in a breath, bracing himself. “I love you, Molly. I’ve loved you all along, before I even realized it. I don’t know if… there was a letter I sent, but it must have gotten lost… I should have said it when I came back, but when I saw that ring on your finger…” He swallowed. “I thought I’d lost my chance, that you weren’t in love with me anymore, that—”

The door opened, and there she stood, still wearing that ridiculous jumper, eyes filled with tears, and holding a piece of paper in her hand. The letter. His hand dropped to his side, phone still in hand, staring in wonder and confusion.

“I hadn’t read it,” she explained in a small voice. “Not until today. That’s… part of why it wasn’t a good day. I’d gotten it the day Tom proposed. Right before he picked me up. I panicked and shoved it in the cupboard where he wouldn’t find it. He never touched the cupboards, always left it to me to cook or make tea or… anyway,” she finished lamely.

“You didn’t read it?”

Molly shook her head, gnawing on her lower lip. “I wish I had. I wouldn’t have gotten engaged.”

“I am so sorry, Molly.” His eyes fell shut against the pricking of even more tears. “I should have told you every day, with every phone call…”

“I’m sorry, too,” she said, prompting him to open his eyes. “I’m sorry for letting my anger get the better of me.”

He gave her a tentative smile. “Understandable, considering the circumstances. I tend to bring out the worst in everybody.” To his delight, she laughed, and his heart lightened at the sound. In a more serious voice, he added, “You, however, bring out the best in everyone… including me.”

Molly went still, and Sherlock worried he’d somehow hurt her again, until she suddenly sprang at him and wrapped her arms around his middle, pressing her face against his chest. Warmth erupted along his skin where she touched him, and his arms found his way around her, clinging to her, locking her against him. He rested his chin atop her head, eyes squeezed shut to fight back the now-constant threat of tears. Good Lord, he was a sop now…

Well. If it meant Molly would continue hugging him like this, he’d be whatever she wanted him to be.

“You smell like algae,” she commented, her voice muffled against his shirt.

He must have been in shock, or otherwise delirious, for at her words, he burst out laughing. Fortunately, Molly joined him, leaning back her head and grinning wildly. “I suppose there’s a story that goes with that?”

“Quite a long one,” he nodded. “And not a very pleasant one.”

Molly seemed to consider this, then gave a slight hitch of her shoulders. “Later,” she said. “I think a bath and a good night’s sleep are in order.” She took his hand and led him inside, and Sherlock followed, happily leaving the worst behind them. There was still much to say—so many words unsaid, his mind quoted at him—but for now… he just wanted to be with her.

Finally.

The worst is over,

You can have the best of me.

God, that took forever… I’ll be honest, this is still open to editing and rewriting. There are a lot of things I want to add to it. Hell, maybe I’ll even add a second chapter. I don’t know. But this song, OMG!! Go look it up, listen to the rest of the lyrics. ALL THE SHERLOLLY FEELS!! Thanks for reading!

#ilyanniversary2021 #sherlolly #sherlolliversary #s4e3 #the final problem #sherlock fucking meant it #i don't care what anyone says #he meant it #it's canon dammit #4 years ago today!#well yesterday #because it's after midnight now #oh well

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thedivinefish · 9 months ago

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TGIWednesday: Lumbering along in life

TGIWednesday News

At 7:11am the other day there was a burley work man ringing my Ring video camera doorbell. He looked like a lumberjack that had never missed a meal. His 18-wheeler complete with an attached fork lift was loaded down with lumber and parked in the street, motor running, flashers on. I ignored it and just figured; wrong house, this is going to go away. 😒 He cranks up the truck and pulls along the east side of my home where the gates were opened. I'm looking at him through a window in horror as he's now cranked up the fork lift and trying to haul a ton of lumber that's too long and wide to go through our open fences. ⛟ I ran out trying to wave him off. " He looked up and said, "It's too wide?" ...No kidding. 😼 I said, "You must have the wrong house." He showed me the order ticket and it had my address on it all right with the name of some contractor in a nearby city. The driver said, "I've tried calling them, but no answer." I said it's 7:15AM probably no one in the office yet! He gave me that eureka moment look. "You're at the wrong house, we did not order any lumber." was now my repeated mantra. Finally he said, "I'll call the office." I said, "You do that and have a nice day!" 🙂 Things aren't always what they seem and yes it seems like everyone is on edge lately and may need a kind word or a hug, maybe even directions to the right location would be a plus.

💐 Happy Mother's Day to everyone! 🌷 My mother was awesome (pictured here) She always had a song in her heart, a kind word for others and was always cooking/baking or cleaning. She encouraged my brother and I and told us, "You can do anything you set your mind to." She's crossed over now, but I feel her presence every day and I know that she hears me and I hear her! She will be forever in my heart. Whether you had the best mom, the worst mom or no real mom at all, please take a moment and bask in even the idea of Goddess energy, Mother Nature and the many blessings of this life. Lean into being that mother figure to others - nurturing, kind, giving. It will return to you 10 fold! 💝

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divinefishingtips · 9 months ago

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TGIWednesday: Lumbering along in life

TGIWednesday News

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Returning to Your Ethereal Restore Point An excellent vehicle to support anti-aging, finances even wellness rebirth and a return to splendor! 💸🏦🌠

Join us on our continuing voyage to navigate the unusual, the different and the deepest changes!

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365dailyaffirmations · 9 months ago

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TGIWednesday: Lumbering along in life

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Fish Food

The Daily Bread To Feed The Fish

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From the Fish Box

FIRST TIME SESSION CLIENT

What's On Deck?

Returning to Your Ethereal Restore Point An excellent vehicle to support anti-aging, finances even wellness rebirth and a return to splendor! 💸🏦🌠

Join us on our continuing voyage to navigate the unusual, the different and the deepest changes!

The Fish Market

Shop The Prosperity Collection Shop the Body, Mind and Spirit Collection Shop the Improve Your Life Collection

Browse over 45 Videos in the Zoom Replay Collection

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advancedthetapractitioner · 9 months ago

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TGIWednesday: Lumbering along in life

TGIWednesday News

Reach out whenever we can help/contribute to you and yours in any way. View Calendar First, Then Pay and Schedule 15 mins | 30 mins | 60 mins | Appointments

TGIWednesday Video Download

~ LIGHTING MY PATH ~

▶️ Watch here on YouTube - Please Like 👍 and Subscribe 🔔

FREE Live Appearances

JOIN THE FINALLY FEEL FREE TELESUMMIT Series 3 with host Aiswarya Starting on May 25th and Awaken Your True Soul Design and Destiny

Watch and listen to hundreds of Radio Show replays for FREE here in the archives from the Jimmy Mack Healing Radio show.

https://thejimmymackhealingshow.com/

Fish Food

The Daily Bread To Feed The Fish

Tell the Fish - 365 Daily Inspirations and Affirmations - by Jimmy Mack Own this e-book so that you can read inspiration every day!

**Can't See The Full Email? Click Here to View Online**

From the Fish Box

FIRST TIME SESSION CLIENT

What's On Deck?

Returning to Your Ethereal Restore Point An excellent vehicle to support anti-aging, finances even wellness rebirth and a return to splendor! 💸🏦🌠

Join us on our continuing voyage to navigate the unusual, the different and the deepest changes!

The Fish Market

Shop The Prosperity Collection Shop the Body, Mind and Spirit Collection Shop the Improve Your Life Collection

Browse over 45 Videos in the Zoom Replay Collection

The 5 Anchors Energy Process The Purple Rain Energy Process The Magical Golden Key Process TheNight Passage Sleep Process

Receive 24/7 Prayers from Jimmy

You can add yourself and those living in your immediate household and yes you can include pets! Merely include everyone’s names and Jimmy will add them to his daily prayers.

Use PayPal for subscription Click here

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*Anytime prior to your next scheduled payment within the 30 days, you can cancel or pause this service via email request.

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Visit our Online Training Center "Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach him how to fish and you feed him for a lifetime" - Lao Tzu

Visit now, Click Here!

TGIFunny

Forward

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