#thealocksly

The house is not far from where Flynn grew up, not far from his late grandmother’s apartment off Ilica, one of those big old places with overgrown vines on the walls, gables, rambling turrets – looking straight out of a gothic novel, for all that it’s five minutes from bustling downtown Zagreb. It is obviously a fixer-upper, and Lucy broke through a floorboard in the basement the other day and discovered a nest of mice. (She’s not proud of the fact that she, having coolly faced down ruthless secret societies and all manner of nasty villains throughout history, ran upstairs screaming at Flynn to call the exterminator now, but hey, they all have their secret shames.) But it’s the kind of house that bookish little girls dream about while reading under the sheets at night, and it’s theirs. They’re working on, or rather Flynn is working on, rebuilding it, and it looks better every day. Real. True.

Both of them are not sad to be out of America for a while, and they have no definite plans to return immediately. Lucy finally sold her mom’s house and doesn’t exactly have an academic job to leave behind, and it was time for a new beginning. She’s doing some work in state archives over here and guest lecturing at the University of Zagreb, and Flynn – well, it’s a lot stranger for him to be back here, especially without the NSA job that was the reason for his presence last time. But he seems happier, in a way she’s never seen him, or maybe that’s just because he’s finally starting to shed the iron-hard shell in which he has lived by necessity for so many years. Lucy does love Zagreb. It’s a charming little town-city, there are plenty of side streets, square, churches, cafes, museums, markets, gardens, galleries, and other places to explore, and everyone either speaks English or is vastly patient with her stumbling attempts at Croatian. It’s so different from the crammed crowds, the hustle and bustle of San Francisco, the on-the-go-go-go Bay Area, where everyone is always worrying about money or bathrooms or traffic. She can walk everywhere, or take the tram. Shopkeepers have made an effort to remember her name. It’s weird.

Lucy gets home tonight with an armload of groceries, unreasonably proud of herself for having navigated the aisles of Konzum without having to pull out her phone to Google Translate product packaging, and sets everything on the counter. There’s still a faint haze of sawdust floating in the air – Flynn must have been busy today – and a fresh coat of paint drying on the living room wall. He’s good with his hands, not that that’s surprising. Building things, building places, building a house, a home, and she glances around for him, but he’s not here. Probably had to run out to get more drywall or whatever it is.

Lucy opens some cans and valiantly sets about cooking dinner. She is, of course, very far from a culinary maestro, especially in a second language, but she’s working on it, and she likes to have the ritual of eating together. Once she’s slapped together something resembling cordon bleu and put it in the oven, she glances around for Flynn again. She thinks about texting him, but decides she can wait a little longer. They’re living together, they are together, they’ve been like this for almost eight months now and left California five months ago, but she worries about being clingy.

At last, as the timer is going off and she hunts in the bare drawers until she finds an improvised oven mitt, the door opens and Flynn appears, looking fresh-scrubbed and oddly furtive. He sticks his nose in, clears his throat, and says, “Uh, smells good.”

“Thanks.” Lucy eyes him curiously. “Big line at the hardware store?”

“No.” Flynn backs out of the kitchen and zooms up the stairs at warp speed, forbearing to offer any more details about his afternoon adventures. Since this is fairly standard for him, Lucy rolls her eyes tolerantly, but when he comes back downstairs, clearly having tackled his unruly dark hair with a wet comb, he seems even more skittish than usual. When she asks him if he wants to sit down, he jumps, then nods gravely, as if invited to a state dinner by the President. He perches in one of the undersized chairs, then says, “Thank you. Ah, for dinner. It looks, ah – my grandmother used to make this, it’s – nice.”

“You’re welcome,” Lucy says, dishing them up and sitting down across from him. They eat in silence for a few moments, Flynn looking twitchier than ever. Then finally she says, “Garcia, is everything all right?”

“I…” Flynn debates the answer to that question. He gets up, jostles the table, grabs some matches, and determinedly lights some of the candles they keep around for atmosphere, as if gosh darn it, something will be romantic around here. Then he says abruptly, “Lucy, do you – do you like this? Here? Us?”

“What?” It’s Lucy’s turn to be surprised. “Yes. Of course I do. I love it.”

Flynn coughs. He can’t seem to meet her eyes. “I just thought,” he says, to the ceiling fan rather than her, until he wrenches them down to face her. “Well, my mother came over here – rather haphazardly, admittedly – to be with my father, and you – and I’ve been waiting… I hoped…”

“Garcia,” Lucy says again, not entirely sure where this is going and feeling obliged to offer a helping hand. She loves this man to her very soul, but my god, the density. “What are you saying?” A sudden spear of anxiety goes through her, turning her cold. “Is it that you don’t like this?”

“What! No!” Flynn looks aghast. “I just – I wanted to be sure, I thought about doing this some other way, and maybe it’s not what you want, you don’t have to, I can live, I just – I had to, I want nothing more in the world, and… ”

And with that, as Lucy finally cottons on where this is going and can’t breathe, Flynn reaches into his pocket, pulls out a small box, and goes to one knee on their half-finished kitchen floor. He looks up at her with those devoted, drowning, unbearable eyes, the ones that want more than anything, and can sometimes struggle, to put it charitably, with turning it into words. “If you wanted,” he says. “We could have our books here, and our nights in bed, and the windows open, and go up to the roof to look at the stars. We could have – this could be our house. It could be like this. Mice and all. It could stay. You could have it.” He pauses. Then he adds, almost as an afterthought, “And me.”

“You…” Lucy is laughing and crying and laughing all at once, as she gets out of her chair and faces him on the floor. “Garcia, are you asking me to marry you?”

Flynn realizes he hasn’t done that yet, and looks chagrined. He pauses, and then at last, he nods. “Yes,” he says. “But if you don’t want – ”

The rest of his sentence is cut off as Lucy flings herself into his arms, knocking him backward, and the ring flies out of his hand onto the floor. Neither of them care, because she’s landed on top of him, she’s kissing him senseless, he’s kissing her back just as savagely, and neither of them say anything until they’re good and damn well ready to, which takes several minutes. “Yes,” Lucy Preston says, and it is the easiest thing she has ever said, the best decision, the deepest and most desperate desire of her heart. “Yes, yes, yes.”

(They finally hunt down the ring, and he puts it on her finger looking like a man in a dream, and they go upstairs to their bedroom, in their house, and she does not mind in the least that her dinner has been entirely forgotten.)

@mathgirl24 also asked this question, so I'm gonna combine them in 1 post😉

You both truly coming for me now, damn🤣

1) Lucy Preston (Timeless)

She is thrown into a war without knowing how and why. She not only overcame that initial shock, but allowed herself to learn from it. In the beginning we see her being stubborn about the fact that you Cannot.Change.History but later on we see her question the human side of history more. Not just the facts that are written in a book. This whole show makes her grow as a person, hardening her, but she still allows herself to open up to people. She is a strong woman and I look up to her for it. She is smart and takes charge while still thinking of others, yet takes no bullshit from anyone. She is amazing.

2) Ilsa Faust (Mission Impossible)

In the beginning of the movies we see her as the mysterious woman who saves Ethan Hunt, the leader of the ‘good guys’ you can say, even though she didn’t needed to. It actually brought her in a world of trouble. Ilsa is a British agent infiltrating an evil organisation for over 2 years. Two whole years of being undercover. That takes a lot of mental power to pull off. She is a very strong woman. Yet, this being undercover didn’t take away her humanity, no, she still saves Ethan from what very likely could have been his death. Not once, not twice no, many times she helps the team in fact. 

Another thing I admire about her character is that she is able to allow herself to trust people again. She works with the team of good guys on missions. After all those years of working solo and not being able to trust anyone, she opens up to Ethan and the team. She isn’t alone anymore, even when the life of a spy isn’t guaranteed or predictable in any way. And this growth makes her a very likable and powerful character in my eyes.

(Also kinda jealous on her warddrobe 🤷‍♀️🤣)

3) Black Widow (MCU)

I just love her.

She started from a young age, which signed her for life. After agent Barton was send to kill her, which he didnt, she joined the good guys. Yet, she is still critical about which side she works on. She was "rescued" from her russian control, but is also critical of the american side she works for now. And seeing that moment in the movie had an impact on young me. So, while I certainly love her for her bad ass self, that characteristic of her is what inspired me as a young teen. "Grey" exists. Not as black/white as just good and bad (which is prominent in a lot of movies.

Rules: Post the last line you wrote (from any WIP) and tag the same number of people as there are words.

“All lost in their own world, none the wiser about what there is to come.”

(This me using this as an excuse to use the gif? Never😇)

1) I do martial arts and LOVE to work with swords at practise

2) My favorite animal is a "steppeslurfhondje" (it translates as "Black and rufous elephant shrew" 🤷‍♀️). Purely because it's so weird and I love it.

^^ this is the creature. Art made by @thealocksly for my birthday 🥰🥰🥰

3) I love flowers, but am alergic to most. Luckily my 2 favorite flowers (sunflowers and tulips) are the ones I am not allergic to😊

😊: You’re sweet. You’ve made me smile before.

💉: Talking to you or seeing you on my dash makes me feel better.

👒: You come off as very friendly!

😄: I can always count on you to like/reply to my personal posts.

🐱: You’re cute‼︎

😃: I love seeing you in my notifications!

📺: We have similar interests!

🍰: I might recognize you if I ran into you on the street.

😂: I’m comfortable around you.

💕: I love you‼︎

👍: I like you. Just, in general. I think you’re a genuinely good person.

Aksjfjdjks what a message to wake up to! 😱😍

☆ Put this star into the inbox of your favourite blogs. It’s time to spread positivity! ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

Ha! I love it! 😎