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rainisawriter · 7 months

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Lassie 🎃⚔️ Pumpkin Spice

Genre: Fluff, comedy, romance, halloween

Word Count: 4,264

Pairing: Reader x Lassie

Group: White Rascals

World: High&Low

A/N: This was written for my Highloween set back in October of 2022.

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Autumn has always been your favorite time of year and you often wonder how anyone could hate it. It’s not cold like winter or hot like summer and everyone is getting ready for the spooky season. Pumpkins are literally everywhere, the leaves change into beautiful shades of orange and red, and everything just feels less serious and stressful. During Autumn, it was quite difficult to put you in a bad mood because of how much you enjoyed the season and everything that came with it. More than anything, though, you loved the taste of pumpkin spice. There was nothing more enjoyable than a fresh batch of pumpkin spice cookies with chocolate chips!

When you first moved to Japan, you had to adjust to a lot of things because of how different it was from your home country, but the thing you missed most was the overabundance of pumpkin spice during the spooky season. It’s true that you could find a handful of products with said spice, but it was nothing compared to back home where nearly everything had a pumpkin spice variant. People go nuts for it and, honestly, they put it into things that it really has no business being part of. No matter how much you love it, you simply can’t support those weirdos that think pumpkin spice belongs on pizza!

It’s even become a meme online with thousands of images cropping up each year. As with anything, once something becomes overhyped and popular, it starts to gain a bad reputation but that didn’t really bother you. The spice spoke for itself, in your opinion.

You hummed softly as you relaxed on the couch sitting atop Oya Koukou’s roof, scrolling through your phone as you looked for the perfect recipe. The problem is that there are hundreds of recipes, each with only slight variations to them. How are you supposed to know which one is the best? It’s not like you can try them all.

“You seem to be in high spirits today.”

You glanced over at Tsukasa who sat at the other end of the couch. “I am because my package finally arrived this morning, right as I was leaving the apartment. I was starting to get worried that it wouldn’t even arrive until after Halloween… damn customs.”

Fujio glanced up from where he sat atop several wooden pallets, his hand holding several playing cards. “What’s in it?”

Jamuo sat across from him, gaze focused on his own cards as he tried to figure out which one to set down. “It must be important to have worked you up so much.”

“My friend back home sent me a bunch of pumpkin spice.”

“Oh.” Fujio’s brow furrowed as if he were disappointed, but he was actually just concentrating on his next move. “Is it true that people are really obsessed with that stuff where you’re from?”

“Hm, I wouldn’t say obsessed, really,” you mused, tilting your head back to look at the baby blue sky above. “It’s become part of meme culture, so it’s easy to think that and we really do push the limits of what we can add it to. It’s usually only around during Autumn, though. No one really mentions it or uses it any other time of the year.”

“What are you gonna make with it?” Jamuo wondered, setting down the last card in his hand before jumping up, his arms in the air. “I win!”

“What? How?” Fujio scowled, glancing from his hand to the table and back again. “I was so close… ugh!”

You chuckled as you watched the pair, shifting on the couch. “Pumpkin spice cookies with chocolate chips. It’s my favorite Autumn snack so I wanted to make some for Lassie. I’m a bit nervous, though… I’ve never made them from scratch before. They usually come pre-made or ready to bake.”

“Are you worried that you’ll mess them up?” Tsukasa wondered, quirking a brow at you. “Or are you worried that he won’t like them?”

“Both. The first time you try a new food can really impact how you view that food in the future. I don’t want to be the reason he comes to hate pumpkin spice when he might actually like it if it’s made correctly…” You frowned, picking at a loose thread on your clothes.

“And?” he prompted, making you sigh.

“You read me too well, Tsukasa. It’s annoying.”

“Right?” Fujio scowled at the blonde.

Jamuo sat back down, turning on the empty oil drum he sat on top of so he could face you. “What else is bothering you, Y/N-chan?”

“Well…” you hesitated, biting your lip. “How do I say this… Lassie is from the White Rascals and you know how they are. They’re obsessed with never hurting women. More than him not liking it, I’m worried that he’ll lie to me and say he loves it just to spare my feelings. That’s way worse than not liking it, in my opinion.”

Fujio hummed, folding his arms over his chest. “Most people would be happy with that, right? It means he loves you enough to lie.”

“But lies can hurt more than the truth,” Jamuo added with a frown. “It’s like they’re saying you’re too weak for the truth.”

“Exactly, Jamjam,” you sighed. “He always treats me like I’m some fragile creature that will break at the slightest jolt. He never tells me the truth if he thinks it might hurt my feelings, it’s so frustrating!”

“Have you told him this?” Tsukasa inquired, sending you a look. Your silence was the only answer he needed. “How is he supposed to know how you feel if you don’t tell him?”

“I… may be a bit insecure. Lassie is the type that wants to take care of his partner completely. If I challenge that… he might move on to someone who won’t.”

“Then it’s his loss!” Fujio smacked his hand on the table, sending cards scattering across the rooftop. “Who breaks up with someone over something like that anyway? You’re worrying for nothing, Y/N!”

“Maybe.”

Tsukasa scooted closer, putting his arm around you. “No matter what happens, you’ll always have us.”

You glanced around at the smiling faces of your three best friends and chuckled. “What a terrible fate that is.”

“Oi!”

“That’s mean, Y/N-chan!”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Don’t agree with her!” The two boys chorused, glaring at the blonde who only chuckled in reply.

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You fell onto the kitchen chair with a tired sigh, closing your eyes as the smell of pumpkin spice cookies filled the room. You had spent the past four hours trying out as many recipes as you could, hoping to make the perfect cookies to share with your boyfriend. There were many failures and the kitchen had been reduced to a baking warzone. Flour coated the counter and the wall, there was cinnamon stuck to your hair, sugar had made itself comfortable on the ceiling and your precious pumpkin spice had been knocked over, forming a small pile on the ground.

Several plates of cookies had been set out on the table and, while they looked almost identical, they varied in taste. Who knew a minor change in ingredients could change the flavor so drastically?

“Woah, what happened in here?”

You glanced to the side, seeing Fujio standing in the doorway with wide eyes. You grinned, giving him a thumbs up. “I won the war, Fuji.”

“You say that, but don’t you have to clean up the mess? Sounds like you lost to me.”

Your smile fell as you realized he was right. “Damn.”

He stepped farther into the kitchen, carefully stepping over an egg you had dropped. “You want me to taste them, right?”

“Only one from each plate.” You sent him a look, pointing your finger at him before approaching the oven to check on the last batch. “I want to choose the best tasting ones for Lassie. You can take the rest to Tsukasa and Jamjam.”

“I’ve never tried pumpkin spice before,” he hummed, picking up a cookie from plate one.

“Make sure you remember which cookie you’re eating!”

“Hai~” He took a large bite, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before his eyes suddenly widened. “So good!”

“Which one?”

“The first one!” He tossed the rest of the cookie into his mouth, dropping crumbs onto the dirty floor.

“Oi, don’t make the mess worse.” You scowled, setting the sixth and final plate onto the table before falling back onto the chair, stretching your body out. You rested your chin in your palm, watching as the black-haired male scarfed down cookie after cookie. You wondered if he was even able to taste them. Once all cookies had been tried, he sat down at the other end of the table, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest.

Several minutes passed by and you were just about to question him when his eyes finally opened.

“I’ve made my decision,” he told you, expression deadly serious.

You nodded, leaning forward. “Which one is it, Fujio? Tell me.”

He shot up, hands slamming on the table. “Number five…!”

Your gaze fell to plate number five before you reached out for it.

“Is the worst.”

“Eh~?” Your hand dropped to the table. “Oi, I told you to choose the best, not the worst!”

“You can’t have the best without the worst, Y/N-chan.” He wagged his finger at you with a grin. “That’s how they do it on those cooking competitions that my mom always watches.”

“I don’t care. Just tell me which one tastes the best before I kill you.”

“Fine, fine.” Fujio pointed at plate number three. “These taste the best, in my opinion, but all of them are really good.”

Your shoulders relaxed at the compliment and you smiled. “Thank you. I can always count on you.”

“Of course! That’s what friends are for, ne?” He grinned, grabbing a cookie from plate number six.

“I thought six is the worst.”

“It is.” He took a large bite, chewing thoughtfully before grinning again. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not good.”

“You’re so weird,” you chuckled, shaking your head at him as you got up to grab a plastic container for your boyfriend’s cookies. “Here, catch.” You tossed a plastic container at him and he caught it with ease. “Box up everything but plate three.”

“Hai~”

“And you better save some for Tsukasa and Jamjam or I’ll kill you!”

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You gripped the strap of your messenger bag tightly as you descended the stairs into club Heaven. You had never felt very comfortable because the club scene just wasn’t for you. You didn’t like the large crowd of sweaty bodies hitting against each other as they danced and you didn’t like the flashing lights that threatened to blind you. If you had your way, you’d never come here but this is where your boyfriend spent most of his time. It was basically his home.

Your eyes scanned the sea of people, searching for your brown-haired boyfriend. And there he was, sitting at the back of the room with two girls sitting on each side of him. He smiled at them politely as they showered him with compliments and praise, their hands touching any part of him that they could reach.

You frowned, turning around so you could sit at the bar and not have to look at such a scene. You knew deep down that those girls meant nothing to him on a personal level, he was just doing his job and trying to make some lonely women happy. Even so, how could it not bother you at least a little? You didn’t want to be the kind of partner that got all jealous and demanded that he not be with any other woman. Besides, you knew what you were in for when you started dating a White Rascal. You had no right to complain now.

“Good evening, Y/N-san.”

You glanced up at the bartender and smiled. His name is Naoki and he had a mess of hair that stuck up in all directions, defying gravity. It was split down the middle, the left side the color of a raven’s feather and the right side the color of fresh cream. Black eyeliner was thick around his eyes and he had various piercings in his ears and several tattoos that couldn’t be hidden from his open vest. Despite his appearance, he was one of the sweetest of the Rascals and seemed to always know when someone was feeling down.

“Hello, Naoki-san. How is work today?”

He hummed as he grabbed your favorite non-alcoholic beverage, setting it down in front of you. “Today seems to be dragging on for ages. I’m glad it’s almost over.”

“Don’t let Rocky hear you say that,” you chuckled, accepting the drink with a small thank you.

“Of course. I’m not a masochist, you know,” he grinned, leaning his arms across the counter. His eyes flickered over your shoulder to your boyfriend who had yet to notice your presence. “What brings you into the club today? Lassie didn’t say you were stopping by.”

“I didn’t tell him, though maybe I should have…” You frowned, rubbing the back of your neck. Usually, when he knows you’re stopping by, he does his best to avoid being surrounded by women though they always find him even when he avoids them. He’s one of the most popular males among the Rascals, second only to Rocky himself, so it made sense that there would always be women looking for him.

“Maybe so,” he replied softly before tapping the counter and straightening his back. “Ne, why don’t I escort you into the back? You can wait for him there. I know you don’t really like it out here.”

You nodded, giving him a grateful smile as you stood up. “Can I bring my drink?”

“Of course, Y/N-san.” He bowed, one arm across his chest and the other behind his back. With a smile, you picked up the glass, supporting it with your palm so you didn’t drop it as he led you through the crowd and into the back of the club. No one was supposed to be allowed back there except for the Rascals but you had become a bit of an exception. If Rocky or Koo found you, they would lightly scold you, telling you not to let it happen again, but they never made you leave or enforced it. For that, you were thankful.

Naoki led you to a small break room. “I’ll let Lassie know you’re here -“

“Don’t.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t want to bother him,” you smiled sheepishly. “Or take him away from his patrons… I’ll wait, I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” he questioned softly with a frown.

“Positive!” You forced a smile to put him at ease and he nodded.

“Very well, then. I’ll come check on you in a bit.”

“Sure.” You listened to the sound of his footsteps fading down the hall before you shut the door, glancing around the room.

Against the right wall was a comfortable, purple sofa that felt more like a cloud than a piece of furniture and there was an oak coffee table in front of it. Against the left wall and the wall beside the door was a line of vanity tables covered in makeup and hair products. The lights surrounding the mirrors were off since they weren’t being used and you could see your reflection in the glass. In the corner between the left and back wall was a TV sitting on a stand.

You carefully set your messenger bag on the coffee table, knowing that the container of cookies was inside before you settled down on the couch. You considered turning on the TV but decided against it, lying down on your back and tugging your phone from your pocket. You replied to unread messages from the trio, letting them know that you hadn’t given them to him yet but sparing the details as to why. Then you pulled up YouTube, watching videos to pass the time.

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You felt fingers brushing against your cheek and your eyes fluttered open, blinking away sleep. It took you a minute for your brain to recall that you were still at the club.

“Did you sleep well?”

You glanced over, seeing Lassie kneeling beside the couch, his fingers resting softly against your cheek. “I fell asleep,” you muttered, pushing yourself up and rubbing at your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” He pulled himself up so he could sit on the side of the couch, smiling warmly at you. “You’re so cute when you’re sleeping. You even mumbled my name~”

You sent him an embarrassed look. “Liar.”

“Am not! I’ll just have to film it next time~”

“Don’t you dare!” I scowled at him, making him chuckle. “What time is it?”

“It’s morning. The club closed about twenty minutes ago.”

You frowned. “I slept so long…”

He nodded, going quiet for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Eh?”

Lassie frowned at you, eyes meeting yours. “You always tell me when you’re coming to the club. Why didn’t you call me? And then you got here and still didn’t tell me. You sat back here alone for so long.”

“I wanted to surprise you and then I got here and saw you with…” You cleared your throat, glancing at your messenger bag. “I didn’t want to bother you while you were walking.”

“You could never bother me.” His hands gently cupped your face, bringing his forehead to rest against your own. “You’re the love of my life, Y/N. You are far more important than my job.”

“Rocky might kill you if he hears that,” you joked softly, unable to hold back your smile.

“Then I’ll die a happy man because I have you.”

“Idiot~” You smacked his shoulder. “You’re not allowed to die without me.”

“As you wish, my love.” Lassie pecked your lips but when he pulled away, you followed, tugging him closer by the front of his shirt. He obliged your silent request, pushing against your lips in a slow, sensual manner that had you feeling breathless.

“Lassie?” you whispered softly, lips brushing against his when you spoke.

“Yes?”

You glanced at your bag, biting your lip. Now that you were here in front of him, you weren’t sure you wanted to offer him the cookies. ‘No, I worked hard on them. I have to give them to him,’ you told yourself, shifting on the couch so that you could reach your bag. Lassie watched you curiously as you pulled a small plastic container from the bag, gripping it tightly.

“Will you promise me something?”

“Of course.”

You took a deep breath, turning to meet his gaze. “Promise me that when you try these cookies, you’ll be honest with me even if you hate them.”

His eyes widened at the request, gaze flickering to the container. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes. It hurts when you pretend to like something just to avoid upsetting me. I just want you to be honest.”

“Then I will be. From now on, I’ll be honest with you,” he smiled softly, resting his hand on your thigh.

“Good.” You nodded your head, holding the container out to him. “It’s my first time making these from scratch but I did my best.”

“You made these?” He took the container carefully, tugging the lid from it. The smell of cinnamon, sugar, and pumpkin spice filled the room, making his mouth water. “It smells amazing. Are these sugar cookies?”

“No. They’re pumpkin spice.”

“Pumpkin spice?” Lassie blinked, picking up one of the cookies to inspect it.

“I know you’ve never tried it before and it’s okay if you don’t like it. It’s my favorite Autumn treat, so I wanted to share it with you.”

“Itadakimasu,” he said softly before taking a bite of the cookie, holding his other hand beneath it to catch the crumbs. You watched his face closely as he chewed, taking note of his furrowed brow as he considered the flavor. He swallowed, paused a moment, then took another bite, humming thoughtfully.

“Be honest,” you reminded him and he nodded, leaning back against the couch with one leg crossed over the other.

“Honestly speaking, I don’t hate it. It’s a strange taste,” he mused, eating the last of the cookie. “An acquired taste, perhaps.”

“Maybe.”

“I guess I’ll just have to eat the whole container.”

“Eh?” You blinked at him as he picked up another. “You’re not even gonna share with me?”

“You made them for me,” he pouted but it quickly bloomed into a smile as he held the cookie out to you. “Well, you did put in a lot of work. You’ve earned one.”

“Just one?” you chuckled, accepting the cookie. It was like pure bliss from the first bite and you found yourself sighing in contentment, unaware of the loving look your boyfriend was giving you as he watched you. “I guess I can live with that.”

“Thank you, Y/N.” Lassie softly kissed your cheek, sliding his hand into yours. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“That’s my line.”

“Now you have to promise me something.”

You looked at him curiously, meeting those beautiful brown eyes that you had come to love so much. “What’s that?”

“The next time you come to the club, let me know. Even if I’m with other guests. Promise?”

“I promise.”

Lassie leaned in to kiss you but paused when your phone started to ring from the table. He grabbed it for you, glancing at the caller ID. “It’s your dad.”

“He must’ve just gotten home.” You exchanged the cookie for your phone, pressing it to your ear. “Hello -“

“I’m going to kill you, brat! This kitchen is a mess! Did you have a fight, huh? Were you raised in a barn? I work all night and come home to an absolute mess! How dare you leave the kitchen in this state! No child of mine would be so irresponsible, so stupid! Ah, I know! Someone must have broken in and trashed the kitchen, ne? The trash bandits, ne? Ne, brat?!“

You swallowed hard as you slowly lowered your hand, the sound of your father ranting and raving filling the room. You had completely forgotten about the kitchen because you wanted to get the cookies to Lassie as soon as possible. You hadn’t planned on falling asleep, you had planned to get home before he did and clean up the mess.

“He sounds really angry,” Lassie spoke quietly so your dad wouldn’t hear, a frown on his lips. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” you replied, your voice an octave higher. “I, uh… I might die today, though.”

“Hah? As if I’d let you. Here, let me talk to him.” Before you could react, he plucked the phone from your hand, pressing it to his ear. “Good morning, otou-san. Forgive me for interrupting, but may I ask what has you in such a foul mood?”

You leaned closer to try and hear what was being said, but your dad had started to speak at a normal volume as he often did when talking to anyone other than you so it was hard to make out the words.

“I see.” Lassie sent you a disappointed look. “I can explain, if you’ll allow me to. Y/N wanted to make cookies to thank you for working so hard, but the task proved to be a bit much. Such a mess would be hard to tackle alone, don’t you agree? I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t pick up my phone when Y/N called, so they came down to ask me for help. We were just about to return and clean up the mess when you called… hai, that’s right… We’ll be home soon, otou-san. The mess will be gone by the time you wake up, I assure you… hai. Sleep well.”

You blinked dumbly at your boyfriend as he hung up the phone, handing it back to you.

“Honestly, what were you thinking, leaving such a mess behind?”

“I wanted your cookies to be fresh,” you mumbled, staring at your phone. Your dad was often compared to an angry bear by Fujio, the only other person who had witnessed his true nature. He wasn’t quick to anger unless he was tired and his rage was hard to ease, so how the hell had your boyfriend talked his way out of disaster? It made no sense to you.

“Aw. You knew he would kill you but you still put me first!” He set the container on the table so he could turn toward you, cupping your face and bringing you into a passionate kiss. “What would I do without you?”

“Die, probably,” you joked, making him click his tongue.

“I’m pretty sure you just described yourself. Now, let’s get back to your apartment. We have a lot of cleaning to do.” He stood up and you jumped up after him, grabbing his hand.

“You don’t have to help, Lassie. It’s my mess and you worked all night at the club. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“I’m never too tired to help you. That’s what being in a relationship means, right?”

You slid your hand into his with a smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I always am~” He winked playfully, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Lassie. I might have to hit you.”

“You wouldn’t dare~”

He was right, of course, but he didn’t need to know that.

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-> High&Low/Rampage Taglist: @kiraaaeon, @simpforchuchu, @star2fishmeg, @thatpoindexterpixy @manhwabtch

-> General Taglist: @asterhaze, @mrskenpachizaraki

#highloween #halloween #high&low #white rascals #white rascals lassie #lassie #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #jdrama #writeblr #rains ficography

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nol0nqerhuman · 10 months

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GHOSTIN’

summary: One fateful day a student from JYP University goes missing. Lee Minho is a dance major, on October 31, 2023 he goes missing. Luckily for him a journalism student cares enough to look for him with the victim’s friends.

masterlist

ㅤㅤ˖ ࣭ ࣪ ✦ ࣭ ֗ ♆ ࣩ ࣪ ⋆ ࣭ ࣪ ✷ ࣭ ࣪ ࣺ

October 31, 2023, Y/N L/N decided not to go out today and instead stay at home editing for the next issue of The JYP Gazelle. Her roommate, Lia had left for the party at Yeji’s by the time she came, leaving her all alone for the night.

The scent of hot chocolate filled her nose as she frantically tried to fix all the ‘mistakes’ in her editorial. ‘Ugh in so stupid I should have asked why he didn’t peruse biblical studies and chose music instead, god I need a break’. The guy she was interviewing was Yang Jeongin, a music major known for his perfect pitch. Quickly closing her laptop she picked up her phone and scrolled through instagram as she tried to think of something to do.

Lia looks like she’s having fun, I want food, getting up and heading to the kitchen she opened the fridge and pushed past the sodas only to be met with no food. With a sigh she sat on the couch and comteplated whether she should go the the store, she got up and put her shoes on before realizing that she had cup noodles in her room from the all- nighters she pulled for the editorial. With a sigh of relief, she grabbed the noodles and headed to the kitchen to prepare her dinner.

Sitting on the couch, she checked the time 9:57, Lia should be back at 12. The microwave beeped and she jogged to get her food and turned on the TV deciding to catch up on a show…..

ㅤㅤ˖ ࣭ ࣪ ✦ ࣭ ֗ ♆ ࣩ ࣪ ⋆ ࣭ ࣪ ✷ ࣭ ࣪ ࣺ

November 4, 2023, at 10:34AM it has been revealed that Lee Minho is missing, through many reports from his friends, missing person posters have been put up immediately. It was the only thing the students could talk about for days. The chief in editorial, Momo Hari, suggested that they make a column about the situation and to try and “give students insight on what is happening”. Apparently, Y/N was supposed to interview and transcript the public’s thoughts and talk to the people close the Minho.

Walking out of her news analysis class she sees Jeongin walking up to her, "Hey, I saw the issue released, it was really good" he said with a slight smile on his face, "Oh thanks, we got a lot of good feedback on it, but speaking of issues do you know where Chan from the musical production class is?" She asked. "Yeah actually, I saw him heading to the cafe with some friends" "Okay, thanks!" She said as she headed off for the cafe.

Arriving at the cafe she decide to look around while waiting in line to order something, she did't want to look around only to see that he want there, that would be humiliating. Looking around she sees Chan from the corner of her eye and walks up to him. “Hello, i’m Y/N from The JYP Gazelle, I just wanted to know if you are comfortable with being interviewed for the paper about your friend” “Oh, sure I guess, does 5o’clock work for you” “Yea, I’ll see you at the bye then” “bye”

ㅤㅤ˖ ࣭ ࣪ ✦ ࣭ ֗ ♆ ࣩ ࣪ ⋆ ࣭ ࣪ ✷ ࣭ ࣪ ࣺ

“Who was Lee Minho to you?” It was 5:05 and the interview had began. “Minho was reliable, you could go to him if you felt sad and he would always listen, he also kept our younger friends in line. He was funny but took a while for him to open up to us.” “When did you first realize Minho was missing and how did you react, what were your thoughts?” “On November 1st be didn’t show up to classes so I thought he was just skipping but then he wouldn’t answer our texts, Felix, his roommate, said that he hadn’t seen him since Halloween after class. On the 2nd me and my friends went to the police station and reported it. They started searching and contacting people and he was declared missing. I feel like it’s my fault, I should have forced him to go with us, then this wouldn’t have happened.”

©️nol0nqerhuman 2023

i tried making like those movies when theres a gruesome death and it cuts to like a office, also if yn and minho’s food situation were switched, she would’ve been the victim instead of minho

#skz lee know #lee minho x reader #lee minho fanfic #bang chan #lee know #lee minho #skz changbin #skz felix #skz hyunjin #stray kids

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eolewyn1010 · 9 months

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Midnight! Not a sound from the pavement...~

Well, actually, there is sound, because it's raining again. And honestly, I'm not gonna complain about it. I know, it's not ideal, climate-wise, but hot, dry summers just kill me, so let me have this for now. Is it time already for the Elbe to flood again? I suppose other places need the rain more direly, but after the fires down in Sächsische Schweiz last summer, I'm happy if the forest is too wet to burn this year.

And I love listening to the rain. Even now that I'm itchy and insomniac, it's calming. Doesn't keep my thoughts from hopping around - like, an hour ago I was crying about a season finale of a show I'm watching - but I guess I'll just read @farnwedel snarking about Avalon until I fall asleep. I basically wanna thank them for about one to two dry, stupid jokes in each chapter recap; without that, the whole "reflecting on MZB and Darkover" business that I started would probably be way too dreary. Hell, even now, I've come to mostly spite my way through putting my memories in order. These days, it's difficult to get my brain to be quiet. C'mon, brain, let's go to sleep! Let's not write a tumblr friend an incredulous question about their tags; they hopefully have a nice brain and are asleep now.

Dammit, I still need to buy my train tickets for October. Today would've been a good chance for that, but then, we were tired today and really wanted to go home. My back hurts, and has been for three days; I feel like an old woman. I should be in a better mood, should at least get to feel a little accomplished - finally tackling the remains of uni bureaucracy, and my internship is finished two weeks from now. But the thoughts keep circling; I'm having restless dreams again, wandering through strange houses and meeting people, friends from years ago, family... Last time I dreamed, my grandma was there. She died five years ago, or four? I think it was the summer before Corona. She never made such a fuss or so many words about shit as I do. Oof, why does my brain always take so long to sort itself out? Always thinking twenty things at once.

Like, a couple days ago? I was at my niece's birthday party. Played a while with my nephew, and when I told him I'd go home soon and he got a little smug about not letting me leave, I told him there was nothing he could threaten me with that would impress me. Little brat shot me with a crossbow. Okay, that's not fair; it was a small, wooden renfair crossbow with very light and blunt bolts, but he shot that thing at my face from like three inches away? He's ten; he shouldn't be such a brat, especially not when I'm wearing goddamn glasses! Anyway, I didn't say a word; I just hopped up, grabbed my stuff, and ran out, and even though I'm still sure he was way out of line, I can't stop thinking about how that was not a neuronormative thing to do. Ugh. I wasn't the one who was misbehaving, so why won't you cut it out, brain? Is it because I didn't say goodbye to the others? I had a fright-and-flight reaction, is all. But nah, now, way after the fact, I can think it over. Ten or a hundred times. I wanna sleep...

#personal #my insomniac brain #stream of consciousness or smth I dunno

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lovemesomesurveys · 2 years

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Think of the last dream you had. What was it about? I don’t remember. I rarely remember my dreams. What stresses you out? Currently, my health is my biggest stressor. What's one song that you can listen to that can make you fall asleep? There isn’t a song, but ASMR can help. Do you tend to trip over air often? I tend to bump into things or hit my hand or elbow on something. Have you ever gone on a cruise? No.

Have you ever watched the sunrise? Yes. What about the sunset? Yes. Name a band that you think is beyond overrated: *shrug* When was the last time it snowed in your area? It doesn’t snow here. Summer or Winter? Why? Winter, hands down. I don’t do well with the heat and it gets miserably hot here. Our summers also feel like they go on forever. We’re in mid October and it’s still been in the 90s. Spring or Autumn? Why? Autumn. I love the weather, the holidays, the smells, the colors, and just the coziness. What season were you born in? Ugh, in the summer. Do you like to play in the rain? No. I love when it rains, though. Do you think that by doing so, you may catch a cold? It’s possible. Who is the last person you said goodbye to? My brother yesterday when he went to work. What are you currently sitting on right now? My bed. Are you listening to music? No. Is there anyone you know who always looks like a smug bastard? No. Who can you not live without? My mom. What's your favorite instrument? The piano and guitar. Do you have anything planned for your next birthday? My birthday isn’t until July, I have plenty of time to figure something out. I do hope to do something fun since this year I had to spend it in the hospital. How tall are you? About 5′4. Do you wish to be any taller or shorter? I wish I was taller. Have you ever submitted anything to Fmylife.com? No. Are you currently working on finishing a book? No. Do you have a blog? If so, care to leave a link to it? You’re lookin’ at it. Is your hair naturally curly, straight or in-between? It’s wavy. What's your favorite sea creature? Otters and sea lions are cute. What's your favorite acoustic song? The acoustic version of Everlong by Foo Fighters. Do you know anyone that's pregnant? Yes. Top bunk or bottom bunk? Bottom cause I wouldn’t be able to get up and down on my own. What's your favorite Pok�mon? Jigglypuff. What's your favorite font? Verdana and Tahoma. What happens when a sword that can pierce anything tries to pierce a shield that cannot be pierced? Nothing?

What's your favorite riddle? Why is a raven like a writing desk? Do you use the dish washer or prefer washing dishes by hand? We rinse them off before putting them in the dishwasher. Have you ever been inside a castle? No. Do you know anyone who backwashes? DD: Everyone does. I don’t share drinks with anyone, so it’s not an issue for me. What do you think happens after we pass? I believe in heaven and hell. ^ Is it different from what you'd like to happen? No. How do you feel about people self-diagnosing themselves with disorders? I mean, you can research a disorder and identify with one, but you should see a doctor to be sure. You could end up thinking you have something that you don’t and possibly do something harmful or misdiagnose and have something go left untreated. It can be helpful for you to research beforehand, though, so you can take your information to your doctor and think about what questions you may have. Also helpful to know what symptoms you may be experiencing. Tell me a random fact. Around 430 this morning I ate a Reese’s. lol. Name one unusual habit that you have. I break apart my food when eating. Like, if I’m eating pizza I tear pieces off to eat instead of just biting it. Did today treat you well? It’s only 6:11AM, but I’ve been up since like 4 so that sucks. Do you enjoy calling out trolls/people who shouldn't be on the interbutts? No. What would you say if I said that I love you? Uh, you don’t even know me. Let's get married either way? No.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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eideticmemory · 3 years

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TWO GHOSTS | MATTHEW G. GUBLER

It’s been 15 years. 15 years has to be long enough . . . right?

Set 15 years after the end of Ever Since New York, so give that a read first!

Word Count: 3.1k.

Warning: Usual angst, porn, and poor communication amongst characters.

SOUNDTRACK:

Maps - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Stop the World, I Wanna . . . - Artic Monkeys

Space Song - Beach House

May 16, 2002.

New York City, New York.

“[y/n] . . .” Claire whispered. “Honey, c’mon . . . just, try to sit up.”

You couldn’t. You just, couldn’t. It was as if your entire body was filled to the brink with sand — coarse, wet, heavy sand — and it was weighing you down, keeping you anchored to Claire’s bed. Your head rested in her lap, and your fist gripped, tightly, onto the fabric of her jeans — which were stained with your tears. Her hand ran along your spine, and her arm wrapped around you, protectively. She wanted to shield you, she wanted to keep you safe, happy. She wanted to distract you from your luggage laid out on the floor.

But, the pressure of her body, coddling you, God, it just hurt. Everything hurt, and you couldn’t get it to stop, and you couldn’t stop sobbing, ugly sobbing, snot running down your lips.

“Cl—Claire . . .” you whined. “I . . . I . . .” your hand flew to your mouth, muffling a loud and painful sob that echoed throughout the room.

“I know, I know . . .” she cooed, kissed the top of your head, and ran her hand over your hair. “It’s okay, don’t try to talk, just rest.”

Claire held you, all day and all night on May 16, 2002. She held you until you lost your voice, until you cried yourself to sleep, and after that, she still held you.

Because it was May 16, 2002.

And May 16, 2002 was day one without Matthew Gubler.

After crying yourself to sleep that morning, you awoke alone in Claire’s bedroom that night. You rubbed your tired and sore eyes, and sat up, surprised to see the sun had gone down. Your mouth felt dry, and your throat was sore. Claire had left you a bottle of water, and you chugged it in one gulp. You stood from the bed, slowly and groggily, stumbling your way through the boxes of clothes, and decorations that Claire hadn’t even put up yet.

You wandered aimlessly into the bathroom, and switched on the light. You didn’t recognize yourself in the mirror. Only a faint resemblance of what you looked like that morning, before the airport, before the tears.

You had dressed up. Did your makeup. And now, your clothes were wrinkled, and your face was smeared with mascara. You looked miserable, you felt miserable, you were miserable.

Claire walked in just as another tear rolled down your cheek. You looked at her reflection, and saw she was eyeing you, sadly.

“Hey,” she attempted to smile. She stepped over to you and held onto your shoulders, catching you as you fell back, dramatically, into her arms.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” she whispered. You hiccuped as you looked in the mirror, making eye contact with her. “It’s just day one . . .” she said. “It’s just . . . day one.”

And it’s true, what everyone says: one day turns into one month, and one month turns into one year.

And one year turns into one decade.

October 13, 2017.

New York City, New York.

Today, is Friday the thirteenth.

Day 5,629 without Matthew Gubler.

And somehow, someway, you feel just as stuck, and frozen, and scared shitless as you did on day one.

You haven’t felt this way in a very long time, though. And of all the days, of all the nights, to feel like this, to be stuck and frozen and scared . . . tonight is not the night.

A knock rings at the dressing room door, startling you from your thoughts. You cleared your throat, and found yourself, once again, focused on your reflection.

You know this person. You’ve spent 5,629 days growing into this person. And y’know what? She’s fucking hot.

“[y/n]!” Another knock follows.

“I’m coming!”

“When?”

“Ramona, I will fire you, and trust me, I really need an assistant!” You shout, fixing your dress in the mirror once again.

“Oh, yeah, right. Then who would make your coffee and make sure you’re on time?” she replied. “. . . You’re late!”

“Okay!” You stumbled to the door in your heels, flung it open, putting your hand on your hip.

“Wow . . .” Ramona said, nearly speechless. “You look . . . hot.”

“That is not how you speak to your boss, dude,” you laughed. “You really think I look hot?”

“Marshmallows on an open fire, smoking, kind of hot.” She winks.

You chuckle, “Thanks, I needed that. Walk with me.”

“Okay, um,” she starts, walking beside you as you strut down the hall. “Hair and makeup are gonna take care of you in no less than thirty minutes, that gives you, approximately, two minutes to get into the studio.”

“Two minutes?” You stop in your tracks. “That’s it?”

She can’t help but grin, just a little, “Told you you were late.”

You scoffed, “Okay, so are we shooting when I step into the studio?”

“Yep!”

“Great . . .” you sigh, walking over to the cosmetic chair.

“But, hey, you’re the big boss, they can’t film without you.”

“Yeah, except big boss told everyone we’re filming at seven sharp, and big boss probably won’t even be ready at seven sharp!” You ramble.

“Okay . . .” Ramona nods, slowly. “Are ever gonna tell me why you’re so nervous about tonight, or . . ?”

“Uh, why am I nervous about a major, televised, celebrity event that I not only put together myself, but choreographed?” You rambled. “I don’t know, pick a reason!”

“Wow . . .” She says. “As valid as all those reasons are, I think something else is going on and I will find out, so you might as well spill.”

“Can’t talk!” You pip. “Getting my makeup done! Tell them I’ll be in at seven.”

You exhaled deeply the minute Ramona stepped away, closing your eyes. Not opening them until your hair was done perfectly, and the makeup artist added her final touches.

You, once again, came face to face with your reflection.

“[y/n]!”

But you didn’t have time to process it.

“[y/n], cameras are rolling, thirty seconds to seven.”

Of all the days, of all the nights, you tell yourself, looking into the mirror, to feel like this, to be stuck and frozen and scared . . . tonight is not the night.

“[y/n]!”

Because you are the big boss now.

Your purple dress — perfectly matched to the NYU logo — hugs your body tightly as you walk across the floor, the hem splayed over feet, which are covered in tall, silver heels. The clack of your shoes silences everyone as you walk by. Everyone, except for Ramona, who steps in before you can enter the studio.

She clips an NYU pin to your dress, “For good luck,” she smiles.

“3, 2, 1 . . . rolling.”

You enter the studio, and the room fills with a flood of “oooooh!” from each and every one of your students. The camera pans over their faces as you walk across the hardwood floor, smiling at them, laughing at their expressions. Their jaws are dropped, hands clutched over their chests.

“[y/n]! Holy shit!”

“Hey!” You laugh. “Language! We’re rolling!”

“You look great!”

“Thank you, how are you all?” You ask.

“Nervous, thanks for asking.” They all laugh.

“You guys will be fine, I’m an excellent teacher,” you giggle.

“Damn right, but are you sure you can’t hold our hands while we’re on stage? Just for a little bit?”

“Big babies!” You shake your head. “You’re ready. Signals from off camera indicated a time crunch, and you quickly brought the group together for a big hug.

It’s been a long time coming. Tonight. Or, as printed on all invitations and promotional materials:

New York University’s 2017 Celebrity Alumni Event: In Support of the Ballet class of 2017.

Coordinated and Choreographed by [y/n] [y/l/n], executive producer and star of the hit reality show, New York Best and Ballet.

Big boss.

The camera follows you as you exit the studio, walk down the hall, “They’re gonna kill it,” you smile into the lense. “I know it.”

All you can think about is the blatant, gross hypocrisy. The way you’re completely, beyond a shadow of doubt, confident in your students and their ability to pull this off.

And you can’t even say the same thing about yourself.

With the cameras off of you, you put your hand against the wall, and steady yourself. Ramona walks up to you, walking along your side. “Got you a water, you should stay hydrated tonight.”

You give her an appreciative look, taking the bottle of water and standing up straight, “Is it too early to start drinking?”

“I guess not, guests are starting to arrive.”

“Holy shit, already?” You gasp.

“You did plan this thing, right?”

“Ugh,” you huff, dramatically rolling your eyes.

“You’re expected in the ballroom, a margarita will be waiting for you at the bar.” Ramona grins.

You continue down the hallway, as she watches you walk away, a crew of people following behind you.

“[y/n]!” Ramona calls.

You turn to her, stopping in your steps.

“Marshmallows on an open fire, smoking, kinda hot,” she smiles.

You laugh, out loud, and give her a nod. Then, you continue on your way downstairs.

More people had already arrived than you thought. The ballroom was packed, covered by a sea of people, tables, cameras and crew meandering through the crowd to catch every ounce of footage they could. You were filmed as you walked down the steps, passing the stage and stepping onto the floor with a grand smile.

“Pretty good turn out, huh?” You chuckled, beaming at the camera as you branch out to greet your guests.

This helps.

The smiles, the laughs, the presence of people that support you and your program enough to show up, pay a lot of money, and witness the magic of NYU ballet in all its glory. The light highlights the brightness of your smile, the glow around you in your element. Your chuckle echoing around the room, as you coasted from table to table, person to person, thanking them for coming.

Reconnections were made, stories were told, and retold, and thoughts of college had you blushing on the spot. You’re so lost in the whirlwind of energy, of being the proper hostess, and managing everything in sight, you didn’t notice that an hour had passed.

Until a crew member taps you on the shoulder, and tells you it’s five minutes to show time.

“Excuse me,” you nod, removing yourself from your current conversation and heading backstage.

You blow kisses to the band of nervous students, give them two thumbs up as cameras trailed behind you. “And . . . you’re on, [y/n].”

You stand up straight, hand your margarita off to a crew member, take in a deep breath. And walk. You march up to the podium, the bright lights beating down on you as you stand in front of the large crowd.

“Hello, everybody, welcome!” You announce, bringing the room to a gentle silence. “Thank you all so much for being here. I’m [y/n] [y/l/n], director and head of the ballet department here at New York University.”

You become flustered at the wave of applause, cheering the crowd and backstage. “Thank you, thank you so much. As a NYU alumni, there is truly nothing that makes me happier than to teach this extraordinary class of students. They’re focused, they’re determined, incredibly talented, and the best of the best. So, without further ado, I present to you the NYU ballet class of 2017, presenting a remastered rendition of their first performance in 2014.”

You exited the stage, the curtain behind you shielding the students that were already positioned in place. You stood backstage, watching them on screen, with your hands bound against your chest. The curtain was drawn, the music kicked up, and they went.

They move effortlessly, dare you say it . . . perfectly. In sync, and with a wide range of motion that rolled without a hitch. The crowd watched in awe, and you were right there along with them. Cameras focus on your face as you’re entranced by the class, and so immensely proud.

“They’re incredible,” you beam. “Aren’t they amazing?”

The full set took about half an hour, and when the curtain flies down, closing dramatically, you jump up and down, and run over to the group of kids who couldn’t wait to see you. The joy can be felt through the lense of every camera trained on you.

Their energy and excitement is putting you on cloud nine. Your own adrenaline is rushing, and pumping in your ears.

You let your guard down. You hand out kisses and hugs left and right, and step back in the crowd on a high, head empty, no thoughts. No feelings except for happiness and pride.

“That was incredible, [y/n], absolutely incredible.”

“Wonderful show!”

You were saying thank you faster than you could hear the accolades, caught in a rush of people passing you by.

You turn to see your students trailing behind you, shaking hands as they’re showered in praise. You grin at them, entirely consumed with elation by their looks of satisfaction, of relief, of relaxation and accomplishment.

You let your guard down.

You got comfortable.

“[y/n]!”

You let yourself slip.

“[y/n], [y/n]!” A hand is placed on your shoulder, causing you to turn around, a smile still plastered across your face.

“You know Matthew, right?” Your co-producer asked. “You guys graduated the same year?”

You nearly collide with him. You stop on the toe of your heels, and come to a screeching halt. Your eyes connect like magnets, the pull is strong and intense. Your breath catches in your throat, you smile fading along with your breath. You instantly begin to sweat under the light of the cameras, your skin heating up, your hands shaking.

“U—u—uh,” you stutter. “Yes! Hi!”

“Hi, [y/n]!” He exclaims, happily, opening his arms to give you a hug.

“Oh!” You gasp as he pulls you into his chest.

And he smells, so good. He’s grown, and it feels different holding his tall frame in your arms. But the embrace is quick, and brief, and he holds your shoulders in his palms as he speaks to you, “The show was amazing, blew me away!”

You’re expected to talk. You’re expected to breathe. But you’re left speechless by the scruff lining his jaw, the curl atop his head, the suit shaping his body, and topped off with a jet black bow tie.

“Thank you, thank you,” you ramble. “Thanks for coming, um, let’s catch up later,” you nod, to which he politely nods back, and clears a path for you to walk on by.

You let your guard down.

And now you can’t seem to catch your breath.

Your feet were killing you by the end of the night. You didn’t get to take a proper seat — without the cameras, and the crew, and the crowd, until nearly ten o’clock at night. As you were trying to regroup, Ramona found you hiding away in your dressing room, halfway asleep.

“[y/n]?” she taps your shoulder. You groggily lift your head, and look to her, “There’s a car waiting for you out back. It can take you home or to the hotel across the street. What do you think?”

“Mm,” you hum. “Hotel. Hotel is fine.”

The Lillian Hotel had been acquired specifically for tonight’s event. A cozy room, with an even cozier bed was waiting for you, calling your name. And after tonight, after day 5,629, it’s all you can think about.

You give Ramona a quick hug, and thank her for everything before you sneak out of the building. You take the back exit, avoiding an entanglement of people and paparazzi.

The atmosphere of the elegant hotel was much calmer. You were given the key to your room, and you turned on your heels to head to the elevators. Your shoes created an echo against the tile, and the sound suddenly silenced when you saw him. Waiting for the elevator.

“Matthew?” You call, timidly. The courage comes out of nowhere, flies out of your chest before you can catch it in your throat.

He stops in his tracks, and turns to you, holding the strap of his bag. “Hey!” he grins.

You give him a shy smile, as you let out a dry laugh and step closer to him.

His eyes darken, not noticeably, but just a little. He looks down at you, and you look up at him, and all you can say is . . .

“Matthew . . .” you clear your throat. “Thank you for coming tonight, and supporting the program, and for . . . being so professional about everything, I know it . . . couldn’t have been easy, I really appreciate it.”

His eyebrows furrow, only for a second, and his face almost goes blank. He looks down at his shoes, taps his foot as his mind swirls with words to say. But all he can is chuckle. Laugh.

“I knew you were gonna do this,” he says.

You tilt your head, “Do what?”

“This . . . think . . . think that what I did today had anything to do with you.”

“I—“ you stutter. “Okay . . .”

“I came tonight to see friends, to catch up, to visit New York. And I knew I would see you, and I knew . . . I knew you’d, I don’t know, expect me to fall to my knees the second I saw you. I can’t do that . . . I, personally, see no reason to do that. I acted professional, because I am professional, not to cushion your feelings.”

And although, he’s changed, he’s grown, he’s matured, and he’s a completely different person than when you saw him last, Matthew Gubler still knows how to make a dramatic exit.

He turns away from you and continues down the hall, boarding the elevator without looking back at you. You — who’s paralyzed, stuck, scared shitless. Standing in the foyer of the hotel lobby, wondering why you’re unable to move, to breathe, to keep your eyes from misting.

And back to day zero.

You knew for sure that you’d struggle to sleep. That Matthew’s word would eat at your gut and brain like a parasite, haunting you, rattling around your head. But, the second your head hits the pillow, you were out like a light.

And you dreamt of him instead.

The way he was 15 years ago.

The way he made you feel.

Bing, bing, bing!

“Huh!” You jolt awake, spasming out of your sleep violently. Suddenly, the sun had risen again, and it was burning your eyes through the windows.

Bing, bing, bing!

“What the—“ You sit up, rub your face, and anxiously search for your phone, wondering why you were being called so early in the morning.

Ramona’s name flashed upon the screen, and you swiped to accept her call. “Hello?”

“[y/n] . . .”

“Ramona . . .” you slur.

“Have you checked twitter this morning?”

“Tw — no? No, it’s . . . seven in the morning, of course I haven’t checked Twitter.”

“Check it.”

“Ra—“

“Check it!” She shouts.

You groan, and navigate to the Twitter app. “Oh . . . oh, I’m trending . . . that’s good, right?”

“Yeah, uh-huh, check who you’re trending with . . .”

“Okay . . .”

Clicking on your name, you instantly sat forward, your eyes going wide, “NO!”

TAGLIST:

@muffin-cup

@pinkdiamond1016

@ncsls0515

@spencersbed

@safertokiss

#mine #esny #mgg #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler fanfiction

316 notes · View notes

sserpente · 4 years

Photo

A/N: Let us kick off autumn season with everyone’s favourite pirate! This Imagine is based on requests from @manymanycupsoftea and two anons. This is probably not entirely historically accurate or more than a fluffy piece of even more fluff but… Have fun! 🎃😋

Words: 1913 Warnings: fluff, anxiety (fear of thunderstorms)

The first thunder ripped you from your light sleep, growling in the grey sky. It was so loud you could feel it vibrating in your chest. Sweating, you sat up, your limbs shaking.

One of the more considerate crew members had offered you a hanging mat but you had opted to build yourself a little nest behind some heavy wooden boxes full of ammunition and cannon balls instead, on top of a pile of fishing nets. It was surprisingly comfortable but most of all, it was safer.

It was for the first time now that you regretted your decision. Thunderstorms did not usually scare you this much—but on a ship, in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight… your anxiety stirred like a rousing lion ready to devour you.

You whimpered, unable to stop the pitiful sounds escaping your lips as you curled up in the corner. You had long gotten used to the way the ship kept rocking on the strong waves of the sea—but today, it made you sick to the core. The Captain had promised land soon, if anything to stock up on the crew’s rum supplies. If you were not mistaken, you were sailing somewhere on the Atlantic Ocean. Jack had told you about an island where the British settled and harboured many treasures and expensive alcohol. He had only been once, in his drunken state, however, barely remembered any of the experience.

Another thunder. You flinched once more, pressing your forehead against your knees until you felt a stinging pain spreading on your skin but only pulled away to look up with tear-stricken eyes when you heard a barrel being knocked over, and the Captain cursing under his breath.

Closing your mouth shut, you sank against the wood, wishing you were a mouse. Unlucky for you, he noticed you regardless.

“You alright there, missy?” He leaned over one of the boxes, his dreads hanging down and making the beads woven into them clatter.

“No. Yes. Go away!”

Jack pouted. “That was… an unhelpful answer.”

“I’m just sea-sick.” You choked out, unwilling to meet his brown eyes. They were, so you had to admit, far too captivating.

“In which case you should hop on deck and not cower in the dark.” On deck. That would be even worse. And in this weather… what was he thinking? Probably nothing at all, given the amount of alcohol on the Black Pearl.

“H-How… how close are we to land?”

“’Bout half a day’s journey if the storm doesn’t blow us off course.” Jack leaned in even closer. You could smell him now. A wondrously intriguing mixture of rum, a little bit of sweat and the tangy soap he had stolen from a British mercenary last week—and strangely… having the infamous pirate so close to you calmed you down. A third thunder echoed through the endless sky above the ship, so loud this time even the sleeping crew stirred a little in its slumber. A scream escaped your lips before you were unable to stop it.

Captain Jack Sparrow was many things but he was certainly not stupid—and he did not quite manage to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face when he said, “You’re afraid of the storm?” It was not a question; and even though you felt the urge to slap him for mocking you for your anxieties, what he did instead startled you to the core.

He reached out for you, offering you his hand. Utterly confused, you stared at it, counting the many precious rings on his fingers and wondering what had caused the long scar right above his knuckles. A sword, perhaps?

He was a pirate. Pirates should not behave this way. You had not expected a life where you were being respected by your comrades when you joined this ship for no other reason than to escape the social conventions of your own family, to flee having to bend to rules you fundamentally disagreed with. Rules like forced marriages for the sake of society and reputation. Ugh.

And now here he was, taking your hand into his, pulling you off the ground and leading you over to one of the hanging mats. You stopped dead in your tracks when you realised what his destination was.

“I am not going to sleep in a hanging mat with you!”

Jack’s upper lip twitched slightly. “I wasn’t gonna sleep, I was gonna drink.” He said matter-of-factly, pointing to the bottle of rum on another wooden box next to the hanging mat as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Jack let go off your hand and made himself comfortable.

You presumed you had two options now. You could either jump in at the deep end and join him or you could return to your little nest, letting your anxiety get the better of you. The next thunder made you decide quickly. Before you could change your mind, you climbed up to him, realising only when it was too late that this hanging mat did not provide enough space for two people. You ended up using him both as your pillow and your mattress and Jack had the audacity to groan and then chuckle as he took a greedy sip from his rum.

“Sorry. This isn’t going to work, I’ll…”

“I’m not complaining about havin’ a beautiful woman sleeping on me, missy.” He cut you off.

“I won’t sleep. I’ll just… wait until this stupid storm is over.” You retorted, ignoring vehemently how the pirate had just called you beautiful and made his comment sound ambiguous. It was oddly flattering.

And then there it was again, his intoxicating smell, the alcohol more prominent now that he was sipping on his rum. You almost smiled to yourself. What would your mother say if she knew you were currently resting on top of a fearsome pirate who had more or less just non-verbally promised to protect you from a storm? This was more than your husband-to-be ever could have done for you.

Against all conviction, you fell asleep.

The next morning the crisp October air was fresh, as if cleansed by all the rain that had poured into the ocean and on deck of the Black Pearl overnight. The dark and threatening storm clouds had gone, the sun rising on the horizon. Jack had been right. There was land in sight—and the haven was busy, full of merchants and traders wearing… exceptionally strange clothes, their carriages full of pumpkins.

A frown decorated your forehead. Pumpkins? It could not be… had you been sailing for so long now?

“It’s Halloween.” You whispered—both euphoria and grief washing over you all at the same time. As a child, you had loved Halloween. Your father had brought Turkish Delight all the way from Eastern Europe to be eaten and you had been allowed to dress up as a fierce pirate girl with a wooden sword.

Jack leaned over, his lips slightly parted in an irritated manner. You shivered when his hot breath brushed against your ear.

“Uh… do you know why they’re all dressed like that?”

“They are wearing costumes.” You responded, smiling faintly at the memory. Jack looked at you as if you had grown two heads, eliciting a giggle from you. You didn’t know why but somehow… you kept growing to like the cocky pirate.

“It is an annual celebration to scare away nasty spirits. So this might be the one day of the year you will not look conspicuous being dressed like… well, a pirate.” You concluded, your voice more confident now. Perhaps it was not so bad after all. Jack had shown you nothing but kindness so far. “I wish I had a costume.”

“That can be arranged. Master Gibbs!” He called out, without ever taking his eyes off of you.

“Aye, Captain?”

“You’re in charge! I’m takin’ this lovely lady out for a drink!”

“Aye, Captain.” Gibbs repeated, raising his eyebrows just a little at being left with all the work while Jack was amusing himself with a woman. Heavens, what were you thinking? He was a pirate. You would not be amusing yourself with him… like that.

“Why?” You asked, as soon as you had followed him across the wooden boarding ramp and past a few merchants offering you fresh and big pumpkins. It was almost short of a miracle Jack’s ship did not attract any attention—but then again, this island was different—and it was Halloween.

“’Cause I’m thirsty.” He replied.

“You’re always thirsty. I mean, why are you taking me with you?”

“Cheer up, luv.” Love? Did he just call you love? It did in fact distract you so much you did not realise he never bothered to answer your question. “They serve the best rum here! But don’t tell that me mates on Tortuga. Ah, wait.” He stopped dead in his tracks and spun around, the sudden movement having you knock straight into him. He chuckled when you blinked.

You were standing in midst of a rather busy alley now. Market stands and laundrette services caught your attention, across the dusty ground a few chicken ran for their lives, being chased by a butcher with bloodstains on his white apron.

Unceremoniously and without any shame, Jack plucked a surprisingly well-made suit from a nearby clothesline. It was a British sailor’s uniform.

“You wanted to dress up?” He grinned, his golden teeth glinting in the rising morning sun.

“As a British sailor?” You asked, reaching for the appertaining hat but unable to stop yourself from reciprocating his grin in the process.

“As a freebooter!” He protested as he took the hat from your hand and put it on your head. Heavens, could this get any more bizarre?

Apparently it could, for about ten minutes later you found yourself sitting in a dimly lit tavern in a stolen costume, sipping, for the first time in your life, on a mug filled to the brim with rum. Jack had already half-emptied his while you were struggling not to end up completely drunk after only two sips.

If all this wasn’t strange enough already, you were the only woman in here—a circumstance which the other men, pirates or whatever they might have been, did not fail to notice. And when one of them gathered up his courage to approach you in a both eager and suspicious manner, the infamous pirate Captain simply slipped an arm around you, pulling you against his strong body and hence, scaring the stranger away.

Rum, sweat, tangy soap… you could get used to this.

“Jack? Thank you.” You blurted out before you could stop yourself. To say he was startled did not quite capture it.

“What for?”

“Everything. I think… I think you’re a good man.”

He frowned, hesitating. “I’m a pirate.”

“Yes, you are. But you have a good heart. You could have left me behind laughing at me when I begged you for shelter on your ship upon fleeing from my family. You didn’t… and now this is more than I could have ever imagined.”

“You’re livin’ a pirate’s life now, luv.” Love. There it was again. Smirking smugly, he raised his mug. “Take what you can.”

You laughed, more men turning their heads your way—right now, with Jack by your side, you couldn’t care less. “And give nothing back!” You clinked your glasses and drank. “Oh, and Happy Halloween!”

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! Caffeine is essential as a writer, I guess. And red wine. A lot of red wine. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

#halloween clipart in title by hotshotspecialgmailcom #jack sparrow #jack sparrow imagine #jack sparrow x you #jack sparrow x reader #jack sparrow fluff #captain jack sparrow #captain jack sparrow imagine #captain jack sparrow x you #captain jack sparrow x reader #potc #potc imagine #pirates of the caribbean #pirates of the caribbean imagine #johnny depp

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rissynicole · 3 years

Text

DTIYS Contest Prize: Rllyaangrlly

Here is the first of the one-shots promised to the three winners of the DTIYS event I put on recently. (Thank you guys for being patient with me, btw. I’m a very slow writer, and you’re seeing it in action). Just as the title states, this one is for @rllyaangrlly, based on her requests.

This was a ton of fun and gave me an opportunity to not only shake some writing rust, but work with topics I don’t normally explore. More than anything, I was able to try to emulate the vibes Brit gives these characters in her own art/writing. I wish I had a better word for it, but I’ve always felt like Brit has a certain “aesthetic” with the IZ characters through her drawing style, the situations she puts them in, and her overall portrayal of their personalities. I’ve always adored it, and it was an honor to be able to try my hand at writing it.

Story is under the cut.

Characters: Dib, Zim, Gaz

Relationships: ZaGr, ZaDf

Warnings: minor injuries

Words: 3,706

Absurdity

The car’s engine and the drone of its wheels on the highway were the only sounds that passed between the three. The radio hadn’t been turned on, and no one had the gall nor the desire to change that. Not Zim, who was turned almost completely towards the window in the passenger seat, nor Gaz in the backseat. They drove along in heavy silence as Dib stared stonily ahead of him at the stretch of road, hands gripping the wheel numbly.

Dating. They’re… dating.

The idea was positively absurd to him. Not only did it feel weirdly out of the realm of possibility, but it felt wrong, somehow. Like some sort of tasteless prank. When Zim had told him, he’d half expected the camera crew from Punk’d to come parading around the corner, led by Ashton Kutcher, to point and laugh at the look on Dib’s face. “Can you believe it?! Your best friend—alien best friend—and your little sister! You totally fell for it!”

That almost would have been better. Cruel and mortifying, maybe, but better. At least then, he wouldn’t be sitting behind the wheel of the car trying to make sense of it while the two pretended not to notice from inches away. But it wasn’t a prank. Hell, Dib wasn’t famous enough to be on Punk’d anyway. Maybe someday… but not today.

A little part of him had high hopes for the series of paranormal investigation videos he and Zim had strung together. Lately, that little part of him had stopped feeling so childish, too. Their following had risen significantly over the last few months, gaining more and more traction as people tuned in. Suddenly, their modest little support net of viewers was in the hundreds. Then the thousands. Then the hundred-thousands. Truth be told, Zim and Dib hadn’t really come across anything of substance in their investigations, but their newer viewers weren’t exactly around for solid proof of the paranormal, anyway. It hadn’t taken long for the two to realize that most of the channel’s appeal came from the dripping sarcasm and witty banter directed at one another.

“Chemistry” was an apt word, and it got thrown around a lot. Zim and Dib, quite by accident, had become the up-and-coming best friend duo in the paranormal community. And with each new investigation, they garnered more and more recognition.

That’s where they were headed now, towards Ottawa National Forest to investigate the latest hot spot Dib’s research had led him to. The “Paulding Light” was a strange phenomenon, appearing in a single spot in the woods and taking form of a bright glow before fading off into the darkness of the night. Though plenty of locals could attest to having seen it, no one could feasibly explain it. Dib was determined to catch it on camera. Or at least he had been, before Zim had dropped the bomb on him right before leaving the house.

Dating. They’re… dating.

His thoughts rounded back, and he felt his hands readjust themselves on the steering wheel. Behind him, Gaz sighed quietly and cross her legs. He almost swore he could sense her and Zim exchange a glance through the rearview mirror, but he really had no way of knowing. He didn’t really want to know.

Dating.

“What’s the exit?” he asked, jarring them all back to reality.

Zim paused before answering. “It’s a couple down. Not this one, but the next.”

They returned to silence. Even as Dib’s blinkers resounded through the car and they exited off the highway. Even as the smooth highway turned to bumpy asphalt, then later, dirt roads.

At last, Zim spoke. “Dib—”

“I’m not mad,” he interrupted. “I’m just…I don’t know what I am. I need to process this. Just…” He trailed off, his mouth a thin line.

Zim and Gaz glanced at each other through the rearview again.

Eventually, they pulled into a dirt lot and spilled out of the little hatchback, glad for a break in the tension that had been all-consuming throughout the entire car ride. Gaz leaned back, popping her joints before heading to the trunk of the car where the camping supplies and camera equipment was. Zim took over, gathering it up and taking inventory of what they had brought along.

Just as before, everything was done without a word. No one really knew what to say. Gaz and Zim were giving Dib his space, and the latter still seemed to be at a loss. Driving hadn’t really cleared his head as he’d lamely claimed it would; it’d just made him more flustered.

Before long, they were off. The hike through the woods was only marginally less uncomfortable than the car ride had been, but the open air helped. Dib led the way, walking along the dimming trail as dusk settled in. The plan was to find a place to set up camp near the area where the Paulding Light supposedly made its appearance. Then, they’d hike again—this time under the cover of darkness—with the cameras rolling.

As the daylight slowly dissipated and the cool air settled in, Gaz paused to unhook her backpack from around her shoulders. Her jacket was inside, probably balled up beneath all the other crap she’d packed for this little excursion. Before she could even get her bag unzipped, though, Zim handed her his own sweatshirt.

She glanced up, and a wordless argument passed between them.

Now you’re going to be cold, her glare told him.

He gave her a challenging, almost haughty glance in return. Just put it on. I’m fine.

Gaz huffed a little and rolled her eyes, but ultimately acquiesced. She bunched it up and pulled it over her head. It was an overlarge navy hoodie with their college name and emblem branded on the front in bright, almost obnoxious yellow font. Zim had been wearing it almost religiously since October had arrived and the first freeze of the year had swept through their neighborhood.

When her face appeared at the neckline, she made brief accidental eye contact with Dib. He averted his eyes quickly. His mouth was still in that tight, thin line.

They continued on, walking until they’d found a suitable place to set up camp. Just as agonizingly silent as before, they set to tidying up the area, pulling out their sleeping bags, and taking inventory of the food they’d brought.

At this, Zim reached into one of the backpacks, eyes lighting up at a bag of jumbo marshmallows. Gaz slapped it away, all pretenses forgotten for a second. “Knock it off. We still have to film,” she said.

He snagged one anyway, popping it in his mouth defiantly before chuckling at her wavering attempt at a serious expression. They locked eyes for a moment, and then Gaz finally dropped it and began laughing along with him.

Dib cleared his throat.

They both turned and looked at him, smiles dropping instantly.

“Let’s get going,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose and looking up at the smattering of stars up ahead. “You have the camera, Gaz?”

She nodded and held it up.

Dib did his best to not look behind him at Gaz and Zim as they walked on. Suddenly, any playful or even amicable interaction between them had taken on a whole new meaning. Because it wasn’tjust amicable.

Dating. They’re… dating.

It made him feel like the last few months had been a lie. It wasn’t just him, his sister, and his best friend anymore. It was him, his sister, and his sister’s boyfriend.

He visibly shuddered as he stepped over a fallen tree branch. Ugh, he didn’t want to think about that.

About a mile in, they began to hear running water. Sure enough, only about five minutes later they came upon a fallen tree that spanned about the width of the trail. Some quick observation showed that it was acting as a sort of bridge over a shallow stream about five or six feet below.

“I guess this is sturdy enough,” Dib muttered, testing the strength of the log. He peered over the edge at the water. At this point, night had fallen proper. A small slice of moon illuminated the sky, casting down on the stream. Dark water glinted here and there as it passed over rocks.

He began to walk over it, arms held out for balance. He hadn’t said much at all, despite Gaz currently filming. She held the camera up anyway, sighing inwardly.

What a waste this trip was. Who the hell would want to watch a video of Dib moodily wandering through the woods all night?

As for Zim, he had hardly uttered a word, either. And he was usually the comic relief of their little program. The fact that Zim was quiet wasn’t just bizarre; it was unsettling.

Zim stepped up on the log, followed by Gaz, who was still holding the camera out in front of herself. The disproportionate weight made her lose her balance for a moment, which was then exacerbated when the entire log rocked along with her. On instinct, Zim reached out and caught her by the wrist.

Dib turned, still halfway across their little bridge over the stream. He glanced at the two blankly. Then, his eyes narrowed. Even in the darkness, the intensity of his glare met Zim’s eyes.

“Would it kill you to not fondle my sister in the middle of the night while we’re trying to film?” Dib muttered.

“What are you talking about, Earth-stink?” It was clear Zim’s already-thin patience was running dry. These days, nearly a decade after arriving on earth, he only pulled out the immature nicknames when he on the verge of arguing.

Dib simply gesticulated at Zim’s hand, still grasping Gaz’s wrist. Zim looked at him incredulously and then let go of her.

“Dib…” Gaz growled, “You’re acting like an asshole.”

I’m acting like an asshole?!” he said, the hours of tension suddenly bubbling to the surface. “You’re the one who decided to… to…” He was at a loss for words.

Gaz darkened nonetheless, eyes glinting. “I didn’t ‘decide’ to do anything! And if I knew you were just going to sulk the whole time, I would have stayed the fuck home! Do I even have to remind you that I do this shit as a favor to you?” She waved the camera in front of her, and Dib paled at both her words and the prospect of it slipping from her grip and into the stream several feet below them. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn’t even want to go camping right after my midterms?”

“A favor for me, sure!” Dib shot back. Maybe some people could be perfectly silent for hours on end and be perfectly calm. His temper had never allowed for that. He was speaking without thinking, and he could feel it. It still didn’t stop the word-vomit from coming. “You sure it’s a favor for me and not a favor for your little boyfriend over there?”

He gestured vaguely towards the “boyfriend” in question, who’s face was beginning to match Gaz’s. Before Zim could open his mouth, though, Gaz lunged forward, right into Dib’s face. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut the fuck up right now!”

The fallen tree they were balanced on began to rock a little, and Zim’s eyes went wide as he clambered to keep his footing. “Gaz—”

“Stay out of it, Zim!”

“I will not!” he shot back. “Not when you’re both acting like complete—”

He didn’t finish the sentence. The log rocked again, and this time, Gaz’s balance didn’t withstand. The little hand-held camcorder slipped from her grasp, and she instinctively lurched towards it with her hands outstretched. Zim, operating on the same instinct, tried to catch her again. His foot slipped out from under him along with a crumbling of tree bark that had split off the log

“W-woah!” Dib shouted. His eyes bulged from behind his glasses. He reached for both of them, catching the sleeve of Gaz’s hoodie and Zim’s arm to try to keep them from falling over the side. He only succeeded in making the sorry excuse for a bridge rock yet again. At that point, it seemed, the log decided it was no longer interested in keeping three fully grown adults upright and out of the water. It rocked, crumbled, and then slipped from where it had been wedged between the two ends of the hiking trail.

Dib, Zim, and Gaz went tumbling off. High, clipped shouts preceding their fall, then a series of splashing.

The water below was cold, but not terribly so. It was a shallow, slow-moving stream. Almost more of an inconvenience than anything. Even so, the drop was high enough that Dib landed on the balls of his feet, skidded out, and skinned both elbows as he fell clumsily onto his rump.

He groaned, cupping one scraped elbow in his palm. Already beginning to internally bemoan his soaking-wet clothes, he turned to Gaz. His anger was beginning to return to him in place of shock.

“Great. That’s a new camera down the fucking drain.”

Instead of an onslaught of choice words back at him, however, Gaz didn’t respond. She wasn’t even looking in his direction. Instead, she was turned away, hunched over something in the darkness. It took him a moment to realize what she was doing. At her feet, Zim’s body was lying halfway in the stream, completely motionless.

Gaz whipped around to look at Dib, soggy tendrils of hair stuck to her cheeks. She no longer looked angry. “I think he hit his head. Help me get him out of here!”

Dib’s eyes widened, and without thinking, he hurried around Gaz’s other side, grabbing Zim’s shoulder and hauling him to the grassy bank a few feet away. “Is he okay?” he shouted.

“I don’t know. Move!” She dropped to her knees in front of him. His wig sat like a sodden mop on his head, and she pulled it off before it could burn his scalp any more than it had. The worry she so evidently felt was plastered all over her face. Even in the darkness, Dib could see it. He was worried, too, but it was strange to see it so plainly on Gaz of all people. She had always been the more level-headed of the two, and seeing her normally morose, carefully composed poker-face fall away so quickly made Dib feel like he’d entered some alternate dimension.

Seconds later, Zim came around. With a moan, his eyelids fluttered open to reveal one contact and one overbright pink eye.

Gaz didn’t fuss or wring her hands, but she sighed noticeably in relief, then began asking him questions. (What is your name? Where are you right now?)

Zim answered in turn, seemingly fine. His hand wrapped around to the back of his head to absently massage at a growing bump, though. He groaned again and sat up.

“You need to get out of those clothes,” Dib said. He could hear a distant sizzling—the awful sound of water against Zim’s skin. Even in their days of mortal rivalry, that sound had always had a visceral effect that could pierce through any bluster and leave Dib cringing inwardly.

Gaz nodded her head in agreement. “Come on,” she said. She rose to her feet, then helped Zim up.

“I’m fine. This isn’t the first time this has happened on this filthy planet,” he muttered. The fire that had been in his voice just moments before had been snuffed out. He tugged at his soggy clothing and scratched at the rashes that were beginning to form on his arms and torso.

Before Dib had time to realize what was happening, they were walking ahead of him back to their camp. Gaz was leading the way this time. Zim managed to keep up, wincing in pain occasionally.

When they got back, Gaz beelined to Zim’s bags. While he ducked behind some brush and changed into new clothes, she pulled out a small first aid kit with the Irken insignia printed on the outside.

“He’ll need the—” Dib started. He stopped when he saw Gaz pull out the exact tube of antibiotic cream he had been about to gesture towards. She glanced at the Irken characters—Irken characters Dib hadn’t known she could read—and opened it.

“Can you hand me the bandages from your bag?” she asked.

Dib shot her a weird look but reached for the bandages anyway. “You know, his PAK heals him pretty quickly. I don’t think he even really needs them.”

“Yeah, but bandaging it up makes him whine about it less,” she said. She tried to hide the smile that had begun to form on her lips.

Dib handed it over and began to build a fire for the three of them.

Zim returned then, dressed in clean, dry clothes. While Gaz helped treat and bandage the worst of the burns, Dib kept silent. This time, however, it wasn’t out of whatever conglomerate of frustration he’d been feeling earlier. He was watching his sister coyly.

Gaz was not the maternal type. Throughout their entire lives, Gaz’s words and actions had been laced in a gruff sort of outer layer that warned others she was not to be trifled with. She kept her circle small and very rarely expressed any emotion other than cool apathy or outright anger.

The way she was acting towards Zim was a far cry from her normal self. Dib had only ever seen her like this on a handful of other occasions. When those memories drifted to him and he realized the common denominator, he suddenly felt uneasy. The tenderness in which she wrapped Zim’s forearm was with the same silent, admonishing tenderness she’d shown Dib when he’d gotten injured during his own idiotic exploits over the years.

Meanwhile, Zim sat slumped against a tree, letting her bandage him up without a fuss. While he was making an attempt at nonchalance, it was clear he was practically falling asleep where was sitting.

That was another little thing Gaz seemed to either know already or manage to take in stride: something about injuries made Zim unusually tired afterwards. For as long as Dib had known him, he’d been this way. Dib had deducted it was because his PAK was using more energy than usual, and Zim had more or less confirmed it. Even so, it was rather unsettling to see anyone sustain an injury and then drop off to sleep moments later like a narcoleptic.

That’s precisely what Zim was doing now, now. As soon as Gaz finished with the last bandage, she shook his shoulder to wake him. With the last of his energy, he shuffled to his sleeping bag and practically faceplanted onto it. Within seconds, he had dropped off to sleep.

Gaz patted his hand.

Dating, Dib thought yet again.

It was absurd. That was the only way he could put it. It didn’t make any sense. Almost…almost as absurd as the idea of him being friends with Zim in the first place.

He frowned and began to pull at the loose strings of a bracelet he’d worn on his wrist for the last year or so. Zim had an almost identical one that he, too, never removed.

Hadn’t there been a time when he couldn’t imagine himself being anything but Zim’s enemy? And now they were almost inseparable. If he could get used to that, why couldn’t he get used to this?

He glanced down at the bracelet and sighed. “You really care about him, don’t you?” he said finally.

Gaz glanced up, her face guarded. “I wouldn’t be with him if I didn’t.”

“And he treats you well?”

“What kind of stupid question is that?” She made a face, but it wasn’t entirely hostile. “I wouldn’t be with him if he didn’t.”

Dib’s eyes fell on Zim, who was snoring lightly. He didn’t doubt that. “Okay,” he said through another exhale.

“‘Okay,’ what?” Gaz said, raising a brow. “I don’t need your ‘blessing,’ Dib. I just want—”

“—No, no, no. I don’t mean it that way,” Dib said quickly, “I mean ‘okay,’ I will get used to this. And I’ll stop being such an asshole.” He quirked his lip upward in a humorless smile at the last part. “I’m sorry, Gaz. I could have handled that a lot better, and I didn’t.”

She pulled her knees to her chest and stared into the crackling fire. “Apology accepted.”

Zim began to stir then, one hand reaching out to scratch at his bandages.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Gaz said softly, taking the hand and moving it away. She made to rifle through their bags but was stopped when Zim’s hand closed around hers. He held her in place and began to murmur incoherently.

Gaz smiled; a sweet, serene smile Dib very rarely saw. “Just give me a minute,” she told Zim. She squeezed his hand and pulled away, unzipping the bag closest to her and retrieving what she was looking for—the marshmallows Zim had been after earlier.

She pressed one into his palm, and his fingers wrapped around it groggily.

Over the next hour, he slowly came out of whatever fog his PAK had put him through as it worked to heal him. By morning, the irritated rashes from the water would be gone and the bump on his head would be nothing but a distant memory.

Not for the first time, Dib thought about how strange Irkens were.

Over the rest of the night, the three gathered around the fire, roasting marshmallows. Even through the lulls in conversation, the tension that had practically been a permanent fixture earlier was gone. Instead, they slipped into their new dynamic. A dynamic that was, as Dib had claimed, absurd. But when hadn’t it been? Not when Zim had first arrived on Earth. Not when years and events had passed them by, and enmity had melded to friendship. And not now.

Absurdity was their specialty, and they were learning to wear it proudly.

~The End~

#invader zim #dtiysparade contest prizes #zagr #zadf #my writing #rllyaangrlly

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shield-agent78 · 3 years

Text

Winter’s Lessons: Crashed Into You~ Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky x Reader, Clint x Reader (platonic), Clint x Bucky (platonic), Steve x Bucky (platonic), Reader x Steve (platonic), OOC x Reader (platonic) Sam x Bucky (platonic)

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, anguish, fluff, children with disabilities, mentions of autism, a little sass, cocky Bucky

Rating: R

Summary: You’re a school teacher for students with special needs who is passionate about her job but has neglected taking time out for herself. He is handsome, cocky and an Avenger. What happens when a newfound relationship just might turn out to be exactly what you both need?

Word Count: 3238

Square Filled: holding hands Marvel Fluff Bingo @marvelfluffbingo

A/N: Thank you to my beta @mindingmyownbusiness Dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Dedicated to: @one-crazy-writer @averyrogers83

Since childhood, you had always wanted to be a teacher. You adored your students and they seemed to respond well to you. However, because of budget cuts, you had not been given a contract for the next school year. You stood in your classroom packing up the few personal items you had left off of your desk as your teacher’s aid walked into the room.

“So what are you planning to do y/n?” Laura sighed, as she helped you place your last remaining items into your box.

“I’m not too sure yet. I’m just thankful that I have a little time to think it over. Bucky said he wants me to come and visit him for a while so I think I might just take him up on his offer.” You grab your box as you and Laura walk down the hall of the school to the parking lot.

“How long have you two been dating?”

“8 months now," you respond happily. "He is something else.”

“I’m sure he is.” You give her a wink with a small giggle as you loaded your box into the trunk of your car. She gives you a supporting hug before leaving you to make the two-hour drive to the compound.

(Fall-8 Months Ago)

“Miss Y/L/N, does this look ok?” Darius asks as he looks up at you from his desk. His little eight-year-old hands hold up the card he made for his very favorite Avenger, the Winter Soldier. On the outside, it is a crude picture of himself with Bucky Barnes playing on swings. You beam with pride. He is doing so well in class. You had taught Darius, for over a year and a half with a special curriculum designed for students with autism. He now knows his numbers and letters and can read some basic sight words. "Miss Y/L/N do you really think that he will like it? You know he is my very favorite Avenger." You stoop down and examine his card closer as you take his little hand in yours and help him sign his name.

“I think he will love it, Darius.” The little boy looks up at you with his large chocolate eyes and smiles. His large smile could touch his eyes without even trying. Suddenly there is a knock at the door. You stand up as you run your hands down your black pencil skirt. Look professional, breathe, and they will have fun. Secretly you are as excited as your students and thankful that you had chosen your favorite black skirt with black and white blouse for today. “Ok, guys let’s give them a warm welcome,” you announce to the class. Seven little faces beam up at you as they all smile and look excitedly at the door. The kids have waited so long for this day and they can’t wait to meet their favorite superheroes.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself and open the door where you are presently surprised to have three of them visit with your students. Clint, Steve, and Bucky stroll into your classroom with a round of cheers from your students. They take turns introducing themselves and shaking hands with you as well as each student. As they mingle and talk to the students you look upon them in awe. Especially one Mr. Bucky Barnes. He seems to take a liking to the students immediately. His Greek god-like features make you nervous. You watch him intensely and notice he spends a lot of time hanging out with Darius. Bucky’s eyes find you as he gives you a slight smirk. You blush knowing that you just got caught checking him out.

“So what do you think of him?” Laura, your paraprofessional, asks as she bumps down the temperature in your classroom. You eye her suspiciously as she just shrugs. “It’s 100 degrees out today and we have three very hot guys in this room….Besides, you asked me to…”

“Keep me from saying anything stupid, and keep me in check,” you mutter as you tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear eyeing the men as they visit your students.

“And?”

“I think I said, I was hoping the Greek god would cool me down not heat me up!” Laura throws back her head in laughter which in turn catches the ears of Bucky. He excuses himself from Darius and begins walking toward you two.

“Here comes the Greek god,” Laura mumbles playfully.

You look up with a wide-eyed expression. “Who has a great sense of hearing, remember?” you retort through a gritted smile. She gives you a wicked smile as her green eyes shine brightly. “Don’t you dare…”

“Me? Now would I ever do anything that would embarrass you Miss Y/L/N?”

“Every chance you get,” you giggle “but I’ve known you for how long? And outside of work you would any chance you get. Don’t you remember when…” Your words trail off as you come face to face with a set of bright blue eyes. His hair pulled back loosely, scruff, stonewashed jeans, and a black polo with the Avengers symbol on the left breast. Oh god, help me. Breathe y/n, breathe. “Augh, hi Mr. Barnes.” Laura turns and lets out a small giggle walking toward Clint who is asking about your curriculum and teaching style. You both know your job here will be might be ending this year due to budget cuts so she is determined to put a good word in with whoever on your behalf no matter when or where.

“Bucky, please.”

“Bucky.” The name tastes like sweet honey on your lips and you know right then you could get drunk on his name with just one taste.

“I was just wondering who is in the photo behind you?” He motions to the shelf behind you with his right hand as your heart stops for a moment.

“Pic…picture? Oh,” you spin around and look at it for a moment. It is a young man in a Class A Army uniform. You turn back around and smile. “My grandfather. He, ugh, he served during World War II in the South Pacific.” You beam up looking into his eyes. He smiles at you and your heart skips a beat again.

“Where are you from?”

“Y/H/S (your home state).”

“So how did you end up here? I mean in New York?”

“I wanted an adventure,” you answer honestly, “and a change of scenery so here I am. It gives me a chance to make a difference and experience the world I guess. My family thinks I’m crazy for it but you know… .” Bucky stuffs his hands in his pockets looking at you intensely for a moment.

“I think it’s very brave of you and shows that you are willing to do whatever it takes to make a difference for kids especially these here.”

“Th..thank you,” you stammer as you make your way beside him for a moment stooping down to hand Sara her card she made for Captain America. She reaches her little hand out as she rolls her wheelchair closer to Steve. She is a huge Captain America fan. You can’t help but laugh for a moment as she reaches out with her small hand and grabs hold of Steve’s right arm.

“Do you have a girlpen? Can I be et? I wike you avot.” She asks dead serious-looking up at his face. Steve smiles, stoops down and takes Sara’s small six-year-old hand in his large one.

“I think I may be a little too old for you, Doll, but you can be my best little friend until you find a boyfriend.” Sara ponders his response for a moment and then smiles widely as she hugs Steve content with his answer.

“Sorry, you were saying?” You turn and face Bucky for a moment. He shifts nervously from one foot to another for a moment while stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“How about you? You have a boyfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Well, in that case, can I get your number or better yet “On fait quoi ce soir?” (What are we doing tonight?) He raises his eyebrow in question with a smirk. You process his words quickly thanks to the little bit of French class you had in college. You give him a stern look; the one you give your students sometimes, and he knows immediately his cocky play won’t work with you. He opens his mouth to try again as you raise your eyes in question. This stops his next cocky remark dead in its tracks. You're not like the other modern-day girls he has dated. Just because he is an Avenger that is great eye candy doesn’t mean you are going to run into his open arms begging him to take you in more ways than you can imagine. “Coffee date?” he chuckles.

“Coffee sounds nice. Here,” you take your blue pen and scribble your number down onto a pink sticky note handing it to him. “Call me Bucky and we’ll go from there. Please.”

“It’s a date doll,” the pet name rolls off his tongue with ease, “ I mean y/n.” You feel your cheeks pink up as you return his smile.

By the end of their visit that afternoon, Bucky found a small friend in Darius and had your successfully scored number stored in his phone.

(October)

“I can’t believe you gave him the teacher look,” Laura states, pouring you a cup of coffee. You are sitting at a small table overlooking Central Park. The fall leaves of golds and oranges rushing in the trees make the park lovely this time of year.

“And I can’t believe you are working here where I am about to have a date with Bucky.” You sigh looking nervously down at your phone twisting it loosely in your hands. “He should be here in ten minutes. What if he doesn’t show Laura? What if he really doesn’t like me. He is an Avenger and damn good looking. Oh my god, what have I gotten myself into?” You ask staring out the window with a sigh.

“Y/N. Stop it,” she snaps. You turn your attention back to her as you hear the bell of the quiet shop doorbell ring as it is pushed open. In steps Bucky Barnes. His hair is framing his face, the right amount of scruff on his face, maroon Henley with a pair of dark jeans. A small smile creeps onto his face as he sees you sitting at the table. Your breath hitches and you don’t know whether it is him or not but right now you have to will your body to breathe. Laura looks up to see what has caught your glare as she whispers “breathe and smile,” before walking away as Bucky approaches you.

“Hi. Wow, you look beautiful doll.” He stares truthfully moving to sit down on the cushioned chair in front of you. You can’t help but smile. You had only changed ten times looking for the right dress to wear before deciding on a light mingled fall color hauteur dress. The matching blue sweater discarded around the back of your chair for ten minutes now. Yes, you had been early but Laura had calmed your nerves, well at least some of them.

“Thank you.” You shake your head in disbelief. No man has ever got you feeling this way and now you nervously fidget with the corner of your flowing skirt. Bucky gives you a smirk reading you perfectly. Of course, he does.

He clears his throat before speaking snapping you out of your trance. “I’m glad you agreed to meet me. I really had my doubts you would.” You cock your head at him in question.

“Why?” You ask while taking a swig of your coffee.

“Just because you're not like the typical dames, I mean, women I date. You’re, well, you’re not impressed because of my job nor care to bang me just because of it.” You almost choke in your drink and have to cough to cover up a slight giggle. Bucky gives you a wide-eyed look for a moment as you gain your composure. Boy, he is a cocky son of a bitch, you think.

“No, I’ve never been the type of wham bam thank you ma’am type of woman I guess. It’s fine for others but not me.” Secretly you're hoping that he's not that type of guy. Bucky shakes his head yes in understanding. His jaw set firm for a moment before speaking.

“Good to know because I’m tired of girls like those.” You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. He takes a sip of his coffee Laura has just put down in front of him. “Hey, don’t you work with her?” His eyes knit together in question.

“Yes, she’s my teacher’s aide. Laura works here part-time to help pay her bills; it’s hard for her to make a living on a small salary.” You give him a small smile as you take another sip. “Why did it take you forever to call me?” You ponder out loud. It’s been a month since you have given him your number.

“I was on a mission,” Bucky answers bluntly. You feel your body tense up from his tone. You didn’t mean to sound so bitchy. Great, you are blowing this big time. He eyes you as you glance down nervously at your cup then back up. Bucky can’t help but notice your embarrassment and he now regrets his tone as well.

“Oh, I augh…I’m glad you are ok. Sorry I didn’t mean to sound, I don’t know, like a bitch about it really…” Bucky shakes his head no and it stops you dead in your tracks.

“No, no please don’t apologize,” he says quietly as his eyes soften. He reaches out and rests his large hand on top of yours sending calming vibes throughout your body. “You would have no idea.” Your body immediately relaxes from his touch, causing him to give you a small smile. “Trust me, I wasn’t blowing you off I promise it’s not like that because when I see something I want I generally go after it.” Your face becomes flushed at his words as you give him a small smile.

“Good to know.”

You two spend the next two hours getting to know one another. He asks you questions about your family and grandparents. You ask him about him and what he enjoys most in this modern time. The conversation comes easy and by the time the sun is starting to set all you want is for him to ask you out again. Bucky takes your hand softly in his and walks you out of the coffee shop down the street. You shiver slightly in the cool autumn air and pull your sweater close around your body.

Bucky stops and moves in front of you. He removes his black bomber jacket and drapes it around your shoulders.the coolness of his left hand sends delightful shivers down your spine. He gives you a cocky smile and pulls you closer to him. You stand there frozen for a moment trying to make a comprehensive sentence, however you are lost in his sapphire eyes. His eyes flicker to your lips and back up almost asking for permission to kiss you. Your lips part for a moment to speak but nothing comes out. He cups your face with his right hand stroking your pink lips slightly with his thumb. He bends down and softly tastes your lips. His kiss sends shock waves through your body. Your lips move in sync with his almost like they have been waiting for his plump lips since the beginning of time.

After a moment Bucky breaks the kiss.“Go out with me again. In fact, date only me. What do you say, Doll?”

“Ye-Yes," you stammer as your heart races so fast that you know he can hear it. Bucky looks down at you and smirks.

“So,” he drapes his arm around your shoulders as you both continue to walk down the sidewalk “you know I’m at the compound now upstate.” You hum in agreement still coming down from your high. “We have to work out the distance thing.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing that I have my cottage in upstate New York.” You snuggle closer to him enjoying his warmth.

“Cottage?” He gives you a sideways glance. “How can you pay the rent in two places?”

“The cottage I inherited from my grandparents. I’m up there almost every weekend and especially on breaks. Why?”

“Like I said when I see something I want Doll, I usually go for it hard,” he answers cockily while giving you a smirk. You stop walking and look up at him. His cocky soldier ways work great on the battlefield but that is something he doesn’t need to do in order to impress you and you hate the name Doll he keeps using. What are you? Plastic or something. Might as well address that now.

“Are you always this cocky Winter?” You tease. Buck cocks his eyebrow at you giving you an amused puzzled look that you can’t help but giggle at.

“Winter?” He draws the word out slowly as to be testing it on his lips.

“Yep just figured if you were calling me Doll I needed to call you something as well.” You say with sass.

“So I gather you don’t like Doll. Hmm how about honey?” He takes his large hand in yours. You shake your head no as you scrunch up your nose.

“That’s even worse. Sounds like I’m Winnie the Pooh or something,” you answer giving him a teasing smile that Bucky returns.

“Ok, how about Darlin’?” He questions with an eyebrow raised. You smile widely and he knows right away that is what you like.

“So Darlin’ it is.” Bucky chuckles causing a small blush to creep up onto your cheeks. He pulls you closer to his side as he walks you to your black Accord. You click the unlock button on your remote and he opens the door for you as you slide into the driver's seat. Bucky leans down and kisses you again softly. “I’ll call you tonight Darlin’.”

“You better Winter.” He beams down at you as you look up at him through your eyelashes. “Oh, your jacket!” You hand it to him. Bucky pulls it on now having it smell like your perfume. He knows Sam will probably rag him about it but he could care less. You kiss him on the cheek and drive away as every fiber in your body is calling out to you to stay.

(Later)

“How did the date go with Y/N?” Steve asks as he plops down beside Bucky at the kitchen table.

“Yah man,” Sam joins in, “You haven’t told us anything. She’s not like the typical girls you bring home.”

“Whatcha mean by that Bird Brain?” Bucky growls glancing up at Sam as he takes a bite of his burger.

“Nothin’ man, just that she’s smart, attractive and seems to really like you.” He notes each one my checking them off on his fingers. “Damn you must have done something to impress her.”

“Guess so,” Bucky grumbles. “Or, maybe I’m just damn lucky.”

#marvel #bucky barnes #avengers #robin writes #steverogers #clintbarton #sam willson #marvel fluff bingo #winter’s lessons #nicolasfam #bucky x reader #darlin' writes #mcu fanfic #avenger fanfiction #marvel fanfic series

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swiftlymoniquesblog · 4 years

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You Hate Halloween- Sam Winchester Holiday

A/N: Hello friends! Well, the holidays are drawing nearer once again and although this year has been anything but normal, I don’t see why we still can’t imagine better circumstances!

I’m going to start a holiday masterlist, as we get closer to each holiday. Requests for this series is open and will have a separate masterlist, with stories featuring Sam, Dean, Castiel and Jack, as well as several other fandoms! Please send in any requests and I will be writing my own holiday themed stories, too!

Side note: I love this new photo of Jared that was released as he begins filming Walker! The hoodie inspired me to write this fic, so please, enjoy!

Summary: Sam surprises the reader with a pumpkin-themed date.

Warnings: Nothing but fluff!

Word Count: 2,497

Main Masterlist| Holiday Masterlist

Holidays for the Winchester brothers were just your average days, usually with a hunt or two and a just simple nod to whichever holiday happened to come up. To Sam and Dean, ever since they were children, their work came first, nothing more important than that. But everything changed the year you showed up. When the holidays began to draw closer, the boys couldn’t help take notice of how excited you got. To you, they were important days of celebration and a time to reflect on the year that just finished.

It was nearing the end of October and despite protesting from both brothers, you couldn’t help but spread out a few decorations around the Bunker. Jack had taken quite a curiosity to everything about the holidays from your obsessive discussion of celebration. It took a lot of persuasion on both yours and Jack’s part, but you convinced Dean to allow you to decorate. Pulling out box after box of lights, pumpkins, friendly ghosts, spiderwebs, and the occasional witches’ hat and black cat, you and Jack both got to work, with the added side grumble from Dean and the extra help from Cas. Once everything was set up and you took the time to enjoy your work as you head back to your room, you couldn’t help but wonder what happened with Sam. It was odd, he wasn’t around for any part of the decorating, nor was he around to join in on the grumbling.

“Hey, Dean, where is Sam? He hasn’t been around today?” You ask the eldest Winchester, who was grabbing a few beers from the fridge and handing one to you.

“Oh, Sammy? Um, he’s fine, I think. I’m not sure though, he said he had some things to work on; probably just researching like he always does,” said Dean as he shrugged and left the room.

Something wasn’t adding up to you here, Sam doesn’t just disappear without telling you first. You two were those kinds of friends; always told each other everything. You even made sure to tell each other where you would be so you could check up on the other if things went bad. All it took was one hunt gone bad and it was Sam’s idea to stay in touch with you all the time, for your safety.

You wandered around the Bunker, looking to find any clues as to where the youngest Winchester maybe, that is until you found your answer.

“Y/N, there you are, I’ve been looking for you,” Sam says, coming into your room after you decided to just leave him be and give up your search.

“Me? I’ve been looking for you! Where have you been?” You ask, ecstatic and worried in your voice.

“Oh, yeah, about that. I have a surprise for you,” he said, walking over to you in long strides, coming in front of you quickly.

“You have a surprise, for me?” You asked, looking at the much taller man before you.

“Yeah, come with me,” he said, taking your hand as he led you out to Baby. He opened your door, one of the many things he did that you adored before he joined you at the wheel. There was low music playing from the stereo as you felt him reach over and grab your hand, his thumb absentmindedly tracing patterns and leaving goosebumps on your skin. It was small moments like these, that made your heart race. Hand holding or an arm wrapped around you, even how he looked at you so lovingly, was all it took to make you feel as though you were his entire world. As your mind wandered on, Sam had to bring you back to reality, for you had arrived at the destination he had brought you. It was out in the middle of nowhere, nothing but flat land and rolling hills off in the distance. Tall pine trees lined just under the hills and there was what looked to be a farm, by the several cows that were grazing the land.

“Where are we, Sam?” You ask, looking to him who just kept a small smile on his face.

“You’ll see,” he says and guides you across a near-abandoned highway.

You two walked along the highway, following the grass and a wooden fence that was put up to aid in keeping the cows away from traffic. The walk was a bit longer than you cared for, but soon, more life drew in your line of vision, meaning there were other people around you. Drawing closer, you noticed that Sam had taken you to a pumpkin patch. A sign that read Thompson’s Pumpkin Patch was arched across a dirt path, lined with plenty of pumpkins and corn stalks. Dozens of families with children were running about, enjoying all the festivities on the property. Face painting, pumpkin picking, hayrides, bobbing for apples, small fair rides, live music, and plenty of food. Standing in line for tickets into the patch, you looked to Sam.

“Why are we here? You hate Halloween,” You comment.

“I know but you don’t so I thought to make this year special for you. You’ve been working so hard lately and I know how much the holidays mean to you, so I wanted to plan something,” He admitted, sheepishly looking down at his feet.

That alone made your heart flutter in your chest. Never had anyone done so much for you as Sam had done for you today. He normally hated Halloween, especially the scary parts of it, considering he faced those monsters regularly, but when you came to live with him and Dean, he began seeing things differently. You showed him a happier, lighter side of everything and he loved you for it.

“I can’t believe you planned all this for me. Thank you, Sam,” you say, leaning over into his side to hug him, his hand gripping your arm affectionately.

“Anything for you, y/n,” he smiled down at you, just enough for one dimple to pop out on his cheek.

You drew closer to the ticket booth, Sam paying for you both, as your excitement grew stronger.

“So, what first?” Sam asked you, and you knew where you wanted to start.

“Let’s get a pumpkin!” You exclaim, taking Sam’s hand and rushing off to the pumpkin growing in the ground. Sam chuckled as you beamed, looking through the vines of the squashes below you, picking up different ones and examining them.

“What about this one?” You say, pointing to what seemed to be the perfect pumpkin. It wasn’t perfectly round, nor was the stem on the top perfectly straight. But it was beautifully orange and big enough for a great big face to carve into later on.

“I like it,” says Sam, as he goes to pick it up, making sure to separate the vine from the stem.

“I’ll go pay for it and put it in the car, while you go get us some hot drinks,” he says, placing a small kiss on your cheek.

Again, that small act of affection meant a lot to you, knowing that that was Sam’s way of showing he truly cared. He wasn’t one for big romantic gestures yet he made sure everyone knew you were taken. As you watch him leave, you smiled to yourself at how lucky you were to have him. Zig zagging through kids running about, you found a stand that was selling hot drinks.

“Hi, what can I get you?” A middle-aged woman asked with a smile on her face.

“Hi, I’ll take a hot apple cider and a pumpkin spice coffee, lots of cream and sugar.

“Sure, thing sweetie. That’ll be seven dollars,” she said, waiting for your payment as she called your order out to the staff behind her.

You stood off to the side, waiting for your drinks before something surprised you. Jumping and letting out a small squeal, you noticed it was only Sam, who had wrapped his arms around you from behind.

“Geez Sam, don’t scare me like that!” You scold him as he just laughs at your reaction. He turns you back around, rocking you in his arms as he spoke to you.

“I’m sorry baby, but you looked cold standing there so I figured I would just, wrap you up and your reaction was, adorable,” he says in your ear.

“Ugh, you’re lucky I adore you,” you say, annoyance still evident in your voice, but only slightly.

“I am very lucky to have you,” he says just as your order was ready.

“Is that man your boyfriend?” The same lady who took your order asked.

Your cheeks burned bright red at the title of boyfriend but you smiled anyway. “Yes, he is.”

“Well he seems to be crazy about you; hold on to that one,” the drinks were placed in your hands as the woman winked at you before you bid her a farewell.

Handing Sam his cider, he appreciated the hot, bitter liquid as he placed the cup to his lips. You watched as he drank, silently just observing him. Sam was nothing short of attractive and he looked more so like it than ever, you thought. He was dressed in dark washed jeans and what you guessed was a plaid shirt underneath his hoodie. His long fingers stretched around the cup in both hands, as he mimicked a child who had to hold their cup with both hands. For the first time in probably ever, you noticed that his hair was a bit shorter than the normal length of near his shoulders, and he appeared he hadn’t shaved in a while; a full-on beard now warming his face.

“Like what you see, darlin’?” Sam commented, drawing you out of your daydream. His voice lower and with more of a Southern drawl than you were used to hearing.

A blush reddened your cheeks again, as you kept your eyes away from the prodding Winchester.

“Come on, let’s go bob for apples,” Sam suggested, offering up his hand to you once more.

As the day began to wind down, the night air began to grow increasingly cold. Throughout the day, you somehow convinced Sam to do everything with you. From getting his face painted with a little animated pumpkin on his cheek, that you had chosen, to trying all varieties of food that he normally wouldn’t have eaten. He hid from you in the maze, surprising you yet again when you drew too close to his hiding place, and he rode all the rides you had wanted to. There was one final thing you wanted to do before your day had ended.

“Sam, let’s do that,” you say, pointing to a tractor that had an opened trailer in the back, lined with two rows of hays for guests to sit on and fairy light stringed around the trailer and tractor.

He nodded and followed you to the trailer bed, helping you climb up and finding a hay bale to sit on. You two sat next to one another before Sam noted you shivering.

“Are you cold, babe?” He asked the obvious.

“No, no, I-I’m g-good,” you lie in between shivers.

“No, you’re not, you’re freezing. Here,” he says, taking his hoodie off and exposing a small little part of his tummy in the process. Pushing that thought out of your head, you gladly accept his hoodie and place it over your head. Instantly, you are embraced with warmth and the smell of Sam; beer, and whichever cologne he chose for the day. You hummed contently as Sam offered his arm for you to cuddle in.

“But won't you be cold, now?” You asked Sam.

He chuckled as he grabbed the bottom of his plaid shirt, just like you thought he was wearing, and rolled it up, showing the layers that were underneath.

“I wore layers, knowing it was going to get rather cold tonight. I also brought this,” Sam said, reaching into the backpack you didn’t realize he had, and bringing out a blanket.

“You really thought of everything, didn’t you?” You ask, admiring how much work Sam really put into your day.

“Like I said, only the best for my girl,” he says, as the tractor ride began to pull happy families around the patch. Sam’s hand found yours under the blanket, keeping you close to him. As you looked around at the lit-up patch, a beautiful look on your face, as the lights reflected off your wonderment on your face. When your gaze fell onto Sam, you saw how he was looking at you and your heart began to race as he slowly leaned closer to you. His eyes darted between yours and your lips, waiting to see if you would pull away. As you moved closer to him, he finally closed the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his in a sweet kiss. It was the first kiss you shared, and it was sweeter than any pie Dean would have at home. His lips moved with yours and his hands held your cheeks, keeping you from breaking away too soon. It felt like one of those chick-flick moment kisses Dean always scoffed at, but to you and Sam, they meant something to you. When he finally pulled away, his forehead pressed against yours.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that,” he admits, kissing your lips again quickly.

“I kind of have an idea,” you admit, smiling to Sam, who brought you back to his side.

When the hayride came back to where it started, you and Sam walked back to the Impala, along with all your goodies collected from the day. It was the perfect holiday date you always envisioned having with a boyfriend; Sam must’ve heard you talking about it. Back at the Bunker, Dean noticed you and Sam walking closer to one another, hands intertwined, and he knew you two had finally gotten together. Months of back and forth and denying of feelings drove anyone around you and Sam crazy, that was until Dean pushed Sam into taking you on a date. It was all his idea for Sam to take you on a pumpkin patch date. You made sure you’d thank him for that later, but it was time for you and Sam to spend some special time together. It was late and because you didn’t want to be away from him, Sam decided to sleep with you. Not sex, but actual sleep. Changing into your pajamas, you met Sam in your room, and you both crawled in bed, his arms immediately embracing you.

“Happy Halloween, y/n,” Sam said, as he kissed your head.

“Happy Halloween, Sam,” you snuggled into him.

“I love you,” he said before he drifted off to sleep, a cliff hanger of sorts left floating around your head. You guessed you would have to wait to tell him you loved him too.

Tag list: @fandom-princess-forevermore @tloveswriting @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @thinkinghardhardlythinking @to-my-beloved-fandoms-2 @angeredcrow @spnjediavenger @deansmyapplepie @akshi8278 @thwiso @marvelfansworld @grace15ella

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the-queer-look · 3 years

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Queer Uber Fund

Name: Gloria Demillo Age: 25 Location: Melbourne Occupation: Digital Copywriter/Poet Sexual Orientation: Pansexual Gender: Non-Binary

I used to really care about how I presented, especially in the workplace because I work in both a corporate environment, and in art spaces, people expect you to look a certain way if your gender is a certain way. Sometimes I think people expect me to be more masc, which I find strange in art spaces, I said I was Non-Binary, not that I was masc y’know? People will send me audition callouts for acting with “identifies as trans-masc” on them which is always weird. Honestly I just wear what I feel comfortable in, or for the weather, which is a statement in and of itself. Before I realised I was non-binary it was very performative – I really did dress for other people, or how they perceive me, or how I want them to perceive me. But now I just don’t care, as long as they perceive me as hot.

I’ve always had a feeling about not being straight, but I’ve never had the language for it because I grew up in a very conservative christian church. It was like “gay is bad” but all of the language around it was centred on men, with nothing to say about women being with women, or both. Like… what’s the grey area there? I was raised and socialised as a woman so… was this only a male centric sin? I started to have a language for it at uni, which helped because I found ways to discuss something I’d always felt, but didn’t know how to explain. When I look back at my childhood and how I expressed myself it just… makes sense. I had this favourite shirt, just a really dark shirt with a lion on it, and I’d always wear it with these little pink shoes with pom poms on it, and that aesthetic of really daggy clothes with really nice shoes is really the modern queer aesthetic.

It was mid 2019 when I realised I was non-binary and then I came out in October of that year, but there was such a long process. I was thinking about gender in uni, and then when I was experimenting more with how I presented myself and letting go of a lot of the ways in which I was socialised to behave. Being socialised as a woman was really violent for me – I don’t know how else to describe it – I had a lot of expectations put on me about my body, and how I should act, and how I should be in relationships, and when I was dealing with all of that gender stuff, it was very freeing to no longer have to live up to this arbitrary standard that was forced upon me. It was also much easier for me to talk about it because I was surrounded by so many lovely trans and non-binary friends, but of course talking to my cis friends about it was very… ugh...

I think when I found the language for my sexuality not much changed in the way I presented myself, it wasn’t until I found the language to express my gender as non-binary that there was a change in the way I thought about myself and how I was being perceived my relationship with my body. I really felt it, It was such a different transformation, I was so genuinely happier in my body, and stopped caring about how other people perceived me, and whether or not my presentation made sense to other people. I’ve stopped wearing clothes that are really tight. I don’t know why, but everything I had before coming out about being non-binary was very tight, very fitted, and now everything is very loose and flowy. It isn’t that I don’t like my body, I love my body, but now mostly what I wear is loose and billowy and doesn’t hug me so tightly.

To me the term Queer encompasses a description of my gender and sexuality that isn’t just one thing because its such a broad label. The way it was introduced to me was like a very radical and subversive way to refer to ones gender and sexuality, and I love that it’s been reclaimed by the community as a whole, though I completely understand those parts of the community that are uncomfortable with the term being used at all due to the way it was used in derogatory ways for so long, especially when used by persons outside the community. I’m sure that there’s going to be a generation coming up that will have no negative associations with that word, in the same way that I have younger queer friends that refer to each other using the F slur as a term of endearment, when I wouldn’t use it with most people.

I’ve always had a lot of queer friends, but I don’t think I started going to a lot of queer specific parties until the last three or for years. Queer events too, drag shows, musicians, poets and artists and other queer specific events. It hit a point where I just didn’t want to go to another straight club. They don’t feel safe, and I cannot just sit there and listen to another Ed Sheeran or Drake song when I want to dance y’know? I’m not a huge fan of the fact that queer events always focus around a party or something, I just want a quiet queer event like a queer book club or something. I’m going to join a queer climbing club or something, just be more involved.

I love being around other queer people, but there’s also a lot of racists around. Just because the event is queer does not mean the event is safe. You’d think that we would have dealt with intersectionality by now. Genderqueer people are more aware because we live on the margins of society and have for like… ever. But I find it really frustrating when people create queer events that aren’t accessible – people with different sensory needs, comfortable for people of colour, accessible for people with physical difficulties etc. I remember the first time I went to a queer club event with a quiet room and I lost my mind, like I wanna be at the club for six hours, but I want to sit down and have a break with just a little noise for a while y’know? It was so beautiful and safe.

K: What challenges do you see still facing the queer community today? Gloria: Racism

There are so many things, being trans-non-binary and a POC I get to see it all but like. People within the community that just straight up hate trans people? The phobia is coming from inside the house! Unlearn that shit queers! Some people in the community get rights? Like they can get married, get recognised, and then they turn around and say “us? we’re the good gays” shut the fuck up. Yeah, internalised phobias within the community? We need to unlearn that as a group, that’s a group effort.

Racism, ablism etc, we need to get rid of those because intersectionality is a thing. I also think that there’s so many laws that are trying to literally kill people in the community so like… I don’t know if we need to crowd fund some community lawyers or something, but we need to get some protections from these people who are out here doing their most to keep us down. I also think that cishet people really need to do better, even the ones that say they’re all about allyship will say that they’re on your side and then take you right to a straight club and like hey, what’re we doing here? I think cishet people don’t understand that there are certain spaces that, for non cishet people, are just inherently unsafe y’know? There isn’t any thought as to how their queer friends are safe going somewhere, or how they’re presenting is safe. When cishet people come into spaces that are meant for queer people yeah it’s just a party and a grand old time, but queer people don’t have that same privilege or concept of space y’know? At a straight club I could just disappear because some homophobe clocks me as queer and has a problem and what would y’all do about that? Cishet people walk around like life is this RPG that they’ve unlocked all parts of, and are free to go anywhere, and just don’t realise that there are places that they perceive as totally safe that are completely unsafe for any queer person to be in. We can’t even go to certain countries? We can’t live in certain suburbs of Sydney! People get bashed in fucking Newtown for being gay. Cishet people, especially if you say you’re an ally, or go into our spaces to have fun, why don’t you take a few seconds to think about the safety of your queer friends? Why don’t you pay for our Ubers and shit, make sure we get home? don’t just text me “are you home safe?” be about it!

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hermadnessmacwrites · 3 years

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A Game of Puzzles (Making the Pieces Fit) Chapter 4

Summary: With the war over and Sasuke home again, Sakura is more hopeful for Team 7’s future than she has been in a long time. She’s quickly disappointed to find that nothing in the Village fits quite like it used to—not her old bedroom, not her clothes, and definitely not Team 7. Join Sakura as she scrambles to understand her place in this new team dynamic.

If she has a place there at all.

-OR-

It takes three dorks a painfully long time after moving in together to realize that they all belong together.

It’s the first time Sakura remembers October 10th ever being this...jovial.

The streets are always crowded this time of year, but the laughter seems oddly out of place. Gone are the mournful monochromatic clothes she’s used to. Everything she looks at—the clothes, the storefronts, the people—is so bright she has to work to avoid squinting.

“Oooh, Sakura, look, there’s a dango stand!”

Brightest of all is Naruto. He’s actually wearing less orange than usual, having been convinced into a pair of dark tan pants, but his expression more than makes up for the loss. Each street vendor and colored lantern is taken in with equal amounts of awe. He looks like a kid at his first birthday party, which…

...it’s a painfully accurate description. Sakura tries not to think about it.

“Didn’t you just eat like five bowls of ramen?” she teases. Naruto opens his mouth and closes it, looking for an excuse, but Sakura elbows him lightly in the side. “Just kidding, let’s go grab some. I heard they were going to add a new flavor today, too.”

Naruto’s eyes widen comically. “For me? Really?”

“Of course it’s for you,” Sasuke cuts in from behind them. Walking three across really isn’t possible in these crowds, but, like most genin teams, Team 7 feels most comfortable navigating public spaces in a loose triangle formation. “It’s not like Konoha has anything else to celebrate today, right?”

The pointed question isn’t lost on Naruto, who visibly deflates. Sakura spins to glare at Sasuke and catches a flash of a frown as his gaze drops to the pavement. It’s not Naruto that Sasuke is annoyed with, but that’s exactly who he’s hurting with his bitterness. It doesn’t take much for Naruto to swing to extreme sadness when he’s this happy, which Sasuke knows. She had hoped he would mind his temper today.

“Hey.” Sakura draws Naruto’s hand into hers and gives him her best smile. “Why don’t you take Mr. Killjoy and find a spot to sit for a bit. I’ll bring the dango over, okay?”

Naruto’s smile starts small, but quickly grows as she holds his hand.

“Yeah, I’ll keep him out of trouble,” he agrees, “Could you grab a couple different flavors?”

“As many as I can carry,” she assures him. Sakura sends one last pleading look at Sasuke before they disappear. She’s pretty sure he rolls his eyes at her, which isn’t exactly a promise to behave, but it does mean that he got the message. Probably. Hopefully.

Once Naruto is out of view, Sakura takes a quick second to get her emotions back in check. Sasuke’s right. The Village’s abrupt one eighty in its treatment of Naruto grates her nerves if she lets herself think about it for too long. They’d gone from disdain to reverence in the span of six months. Technically this is a festival celebrating the end of the war, but there’s been a fair amount of Uzumaki branded treats and well-wishes from strangers as well.

At least she had apologized.

A couple deep breaths later, Sakura’s pushing through the crowds towards the stand. There’s a line forming, but the vendor calls Sakura forward as soon as he sees her. Embarrassed, Sakura ducks her head in a small apology to the people in line as she moves past them. She doesn’t want to make more of a scene than she already is, and she really wants to get back to her team as soon as she can.

“Could I get two Hanami dango, a mitarashi dango, and a”—she cranes her neck to get a better look at the name of the new flavor from the poster on the side of the cart—“and one Uzumaki dango, please?”

“Absolutely! Would you like a Team 7 dango as well?”

“Oh!” There’s nothing about a Team 7 dango on the sign. Is that actually a thing? Did he make that up when he saw her? “Um, yes, please. Thank you.”

By the time Sakura’s done counting out her coins, the dango are being shoved towards her. She scrambles to put her money pouch away and grab her sweets without holding up the line any longer. Four of the dango end up in one hand while a white, pink, and orange dango ends up in the other. It takes her a second to realize that this is supposed to be the Team 7 dango. The anger kicks in a second later.

To be fair to the vendor, she’s never actually seen blue dango before. Then again, she’s never seen a red habanero dango before today, and that’s definitely one of the flavors on the Uzumaki stick. Choosing the white dango for Kakashi feels like a dig at Sasuke. Sakura bites the orange dumpling off the stick and chews furiously. There. Now it just looks like a partially eaten Hanami dumpling.

That “Team 7” roll better not be on the actual menu. For the vendor’s sake.

Sakura finds Naruto and Sasuke sitting on top of one of the tables in an eating area, of all places. She has no idea who’s idea that was. It’s an extremely rude thing to do with so many people looking for seats, but Sakura doesn’t really want to be joined by the type of people who are deterred by her teammates’ antics right now.

Naruto spots her first and starts waving wildly—as if she could have missed the pair of them. Sasuke turns to see who has caught Naruto’s attention. When he recognizes her, he pulls one of his legs off the bench and onto the table so she’ll have a place to sit. Naruto follows his lead, pulling both his feet off the bench and into a criss-cross position. So they were trying to deter people from sitting with them.

She’s not even mad.

“One mitarashi dango, one hanami dango, and one Uzumaki dango,” she declares, handing over her loot. Naruto cheers, promptly digging into the hanami stick as soon as it’s in his hand. He’s two dumplings deep before Sakura’s even fully seated.

Sasuke’s eyebrow raises as she nibbles on her own dango. “You got two hanami dango for yourself?”

Busted.

“Uh, one of them is for you?” she tries. At Sasuke’s unimpressed expression, she relents, “Fine. Yes, I got two hanami for myself.” He still looks skeptical for some reason, so she tries for classic misdirection, “You might actually want to try the red dumpling from the Uzumaki dango, though, I’m pretty sure it’s spicy.”

“It is?” Naruto pauses his munching on the mitarashi stick to take a bite of the red dumpling before recoiling immediately. “Ack—it is! Why is it spicy?”

Sakura laughs. “I think the colors represent your family. The orange and yellow are pretty self-explanatory, so the red is probably for your mom. For the Uzumaki hair, I’m guessing. I don’t know why they didn’t choose cherry or something, though—that would have gone better with the rest of the flavors.”

“Her nickname was the ‘Red-hot Habanero,’ so that’s probably it,” Naruto explains, his smile dimming. It’s Sasuke’s turn to glare at her, and she winces, appropriately abashed. She always manages to stick her foot in her mouth when the conversation turns to parents. “Anyway, you should try it, Sasuke. It’s not sweet, like, at all, so I bet you’ll like it.”

Sakura figures the odds are skewed sixty/fourty in favor of Sasuke rejecting the offer, but Sasuke doesn’t actually say anything at all. Instead he bends down and bites the rest of the dumpling right off the stick that Naruto’s holding. Some of the drizzling sauce clings to his lower lip, and his tongue darts out quickly to wipe it clean.

She’s not even the one holding the stick, but Sakura is absolutely certain her heart fucking stutters to a stop at the sight. Poor Naruto looks appropriately shocked. His lips are parted in a gentle “o” of surprise, and his eyes are, dare she say it, looking a little glazed over. He rallies quickly, though, shoving the rest of the Uzumaki stick right under Sasuke’s nose.

“Try the orange one next!”

“Ugh, no.” It’s Sasuke’s turn to recoil. “That one probably is sweet, dumbass.”

"Come on," Naruto wheedles,"Just take a little—wait. Wait, are you saying my mom tastes better than I do?"

"Why do you have to phrase it like that!"

The words are different, but the cadence of her teammates bickering is familiar enough that it quickly fades to the background of her attention. She works through the rest of her "hanami" roll at a leisurely pace, scanning the crowds as she does. There's so much laughter. Even actual festivals haven't been this boisterous for years.

Most of these people weren't on the war front. It's easy to resent them for that—for celebrating the anniversary of such a trying day. Victory is not a reward granted, but a luxury paid for in blood and flesh by the pound. She understands the relief, but is this much pomp and circumstance acceptable? Does a life saved by a black market kidney still deserve celebration?

Sakura doesn't know.

A child screams, high and piercing, shattering through the joyful murmur of the crowd. Her teammates' argument grinds to a halt. Sakura swivels to locate the source, and, in her periphery, she notices the majority of the adults around her do the same. Chakra flares around her as ninja spread their senses in search of a threat.

"Kenta!" a petite woman scolds, bending down, "What did I say about screaming?"

"Not to," the child mumbles. He's small enough that a picnic table nearby obscures him from Sakura's view.

"Unless?" the woman prompts. If Kenta answers, it's too quiet for her to hear.

Everyone in the vicinity, ninja and civilians alike, visibly relaxes. It's sobering to realize how on-edge they all are despite the upbeat atmosphere. Life has not been kind to Konoha's residents.

How self-absorbed of her.

No, the civilians around her didn't watch Neji die. They didn't despair as the Ten-tailed beast appeared in the battle-ground. To say they didn't know fear—didn't know suffering—is terribly short-sighted.

Konoha is a thriving militaristic society. Has been for decades. But having the pointiest sick doesn't ensure safety. Often the wielder becomes a target of others struggling to create their own rags to riches stories.

Or revenge. Pointy sticks are great at poking avengers into action.

Point is, Konoha has been leveled three times in Sakura's short time on this earth. If the civilians don't get to celebrate the peace she fought for, maybe she doesn't get to celebrate the Village they rebuilt.

Food for thought.

Sakura lays her finished dango stick on the table. The untouched dango stick sags in her hand with her increasing disinterest. Her recent train of thought is more than enough to derail her appetite entirely despite the fact that dango is one of her favorite treats.

"You okay?" Naruto asks immediately. He glances at the dango dangling in her grasp pointedly.

Sakura doesn't even have to force the smile. His concern forces its way through the heavy stormcloud of her thoughts like the sunbeam he is. Sweet. Naruto's just so sweet.

"I'm fine.” She fans herself with her free hand. "Just kinda hot, yeah? It's killing my appetite."

Naruto's expression clears immediately. "In that case, let's go get some shaved ice soon! I think I saw a vendor on our way in."

"I did not sign up to wrangle the two of you on a sugar high," Sasuke interjects sourly. Sweet sauce is smeared across his cheekbone, and there might be a crumb of fried dough occluding one nostril. Sakura chokes on a giggle which clearly earns no points from Sasuke. "No more sweets."

Sakura raises her hands in surrender, but Naruto isn't as quick to acquiesce. They start bickering, again, and as Sakura watches a dango skewer slides dangerously close to Sasuke's eye. Idiots. That does explain the out-of-place dough and sticky sauce, though.

The reprimand on her tongue withers at the enthusiastic sparkle in Naruto’s eyes as he advances further and further into Sasuke’s personal space. And Sasuke—brooding, angsty Sasuke—has a smile playing at his lips as he avoids the sticky dessert. He’s making a good show of being annoyed by his teammate’s antics, but if he was really done he’d be slapping the blond away. Angry Sasuke wouldn’t lean back unconcernedly on his only hand like that, and he certainly wouldn’t let Naruto rest his stump on his shoulder as he pesters him.

Bright. It’s so, so bright out today—ridiculously sunny for October—but no amount of sunblock would protect her from their megawatt smiles.

If the fight gets enthusiastic enough to disturb the table, she'll step in, Sakura decides, turning her head to give them a little privacy.

Or the illusion of it, anyway.

Sakura’s not sure how her teammates are able to ignore all the attention they’re attracting. The picnic table they have selected is on the outskirts of the eating area, but they might as well be on center stage. Her skin prickles under the weight of the public’s stares.

Logically, she knows the curious civilians don’t mean any harm. It’s rare that Team 7 is out in the public eye for such an extended period of time. That doesn’t stop the shinobi buried deep beneath her medic persona from sharpening her kunai warily. Sakura doesn't resent the instinct exactly—that's what keeps her alive—but she does try to shake it. The eyes on her aren't dangerous.

Just oppressive.

It’s in pretending to look out across the crowd—and ignoring the alarming number of heads that whip away from her that she does—that she notices them.

A trio of girls sit at two tables away from them at a diagonal. Four older women share the table, but there's enough space between the two to make it clear that they're separate parties. And anyway, the women are laughing, with clenched eyes and wide smiles. The younger ones, though, they're tittering. The sound is sharper than the murmuring of the crowd around them, which is probably why they stood out to her in the first place.

In their mirth, they haven’t noticed Sakura’s attention. One of the girls has a blush dark enough to match the hair of the girl digging an elbow playfully into her side. She can’t see the face of the final member of the trio, but her shoulders shake in obvious laughter under long, black hair. Suddenly the girl’s arms come up in an exaggerated stretch before dropping to her hips so she can make a show of twisting and stretching her back. Not bad for a civilian. Sakura would have almost believed her if not for how quickly she turned back to her friends after a less than sneaky peek at Team 7’s table.

Any amusement she might have held for the girls’ antics slip away immediately. Clearly the trio isn’t looking at Sakura, or they would have noticed her attention. The number of times they’ve all slid glances her direction is too high to be a coincidence, however, which only leaves one option.

The boys.

Now it’s abundantly clear what the brunette is being teased about. It’s been a while since the Academy, but Sakura has sent her share of moonstruck looks a certain Uchiha’s way. She knows what it feels like—what it looks like—to laugh and tease over crushes. Her eyebrows narrow fiercely for all that she tries to keep her expression neutral. The only real question left is: which boy are they looking at?

Four years ago, the answer would have been Sasuke hands down. His sharp features and aloof personality are easily misread as the mysterious persona of at least fifty percent of the love interests in romance novels. Barely dodged war crimes have tamped down the general enthusiasm for Sasuke, though there is always the chance the girl thinks she has a thing for “bad boys.”

Sakura hopes not, for her sake. Sasuke’s particular brand of “rebel with a cause” needs at least three years of serious training and an instruction manual the size of one of her medical textbooks to have any chance of walking away unscathed. Even then nightmares and traumatic events are pretty much a given.

Naruto laughs, loudly, and throws his head back enough to give a clear view of the syrup that drips down his chin. The brunette’s expression softens, and Sakura can hear the lovesick sigh she heaves from twenty feet away. So Naruto is the object of her affection. The realization makes her stomach twist.

There’s a sharp crack, and Sakura’s dango drops to the grass beneath them. She blinks, confused. The bottom half of the stick is still clenched tightly in her fist. It takes longer than it should to notice the splintered edge of the stick and piece together what happened.

“Are you alright?” It’s Sasuke that asks this time.

“Yeah, I’m—I’m fine.” Sakura bends down to grab her dango from the ground. She hadn’t planned on eating it anyway, but the grass coating the dumplings means that’s not an option for later anymore. “I just, ah—”

Before Sakura can come up with an excuse for her ill-timed use of super strength, the tittering behind them grows in volume enough to catch Sasuke’s attention this time. Sakura’s eyes flit to the trio of girls automatically, and they are looking at her now. Great. Even the blushing brunette has joined in the action, so Sakura knows that the laughs are meant for her. She grinds her teeth together. They’re civilians. Sakura can’t go around just laying civilians out because she feels like it.

“That’s enough time in the sun,” Sasuke declares, sliding off of the table top. He shoots a viscous glare over his shoulder. Sakura shouldn’t find so much satisfaction in how rapidly the giggles grind to a halt, but she does. The knots her intestines have tied themselves into loosen enough that she can take aim with a sharp smile of her own.

“Guys…?” Naruto asks. He can tell that something is going on, but doesn’t have enough information to piece the story together as Sasuke did. Blonde eyebrows furrow lightly as he glances from his teammates to the girls’ table.

The brunette has the audacity to sigh again. Every muscle in Sakura’s body tenses for a fight, and she doesn’t even pause to think about how ridiculous her reaction is. It’s not like she has any sort of claim over Naruto. Sasuke is the one who has been messily sharing finger food with him this whole afternoon. If anyone has any right to feel the sudden rage coursing through their body, it’s him. How dare that girl assume she has a chance when Naruto is clearly taken?

Sure enough, Sasuke’s expression has doubled in intensity. Disgust and possessiveness mix in equal measure on his face as his lip curls up and over his teeth. He probably doesn’t even realize what an overprotective boyfriend he looks like, and Sakura can only watch smugly as the girls wilt under his glare. Serves them right.

“We’re getting out of here,” Sasuke declares, firmly. He turns away from the trio before hefting Naruto off the table and over his shoulder in one fluid motion. Naruto squawks in surprise, understandably, but Sasuke’s malice is clearly not directed at him, so he allows himself to be carted away with only token protests. “Let’s go, Sakura.”

The urge to gloat is irresistible. Sakura tosses a taunting wink that the girls are too shell-shocked to react to before falling into her place at her boys’ backs. The rage and, okay, she’ll admit it, jealousy that bubbled up so unexpectedly earlier washes away in the face of her contentment. Maybe neither Sasuke or Naruto are hers in the romantic sense, but they’re hers in all the other ways that matter.

Sakura will guard their backs for as long as they let her with a smile in her heart.

Read the rest of the chapter on ao3

#hermadnessmac writes #Team 7 ot3 #NaruSasuSaku #Team 7 moves in together #A Game of Puzzles (Making the Pieces Fit)#Read on AO3

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hamonsurveysoverdrive · 3 years

Text

Shiny

What was the last thing you spent under five dollars on? A Monster. How many times have you cried in the past week? Once or twice, not over anything major. When was the last time you saw a rainbow? Uh, does on Animal Crossing count? Because that was today lol Have you ever had feelings for someone your best friend was dating? Nope. Have you ever used your cell phone as a light source in the dark? Yes. Is there anything written on the shirt you’re wearing? Nope. Would you rather spend two days in London or a week in Finland? London. Where were you living in 1997? My hometown. How was your first kiss? It was alright. Do you still talk to the person you shared it with? No. Are you the oldest of your siblings? No. What're your initials? AVW. What does that middle initial stand for? Victoria. When was the last time you kissed someone? Last night. Do you regret it? Absolutely not. How long is it until your next birthday and how old will you be? About 7 months. I'll be 33. What was the last song you heard? Idk. Do you have any tattoos? I have ten. How would you react if you found out you were pregnant right now? I would be VERY unhappy. What's your mother’s maiden name? M. How many people do you know with the same first name as you? One, personally. Are you related to a Johanna? No. Have you ever hugged an Eric? Probably. Have you ever ridden in a car with a Brooke? I don't think so. Have you ever kissed a Jesse? No. Have you ever worked with a Heather? Yes. Have you ever dated a Ryan? No, but I hooked up with one. Which of your friends would be most likely to become a stripper? I'm already friends with strippers and ex-strippers. How long has it been since you showered? Yesterday. Where did you or do you go to high school? In my hometown. What's the nearest red object to you? Part of the hamburger bun package next to me on the table. Do you have a birthmark and if so, where? I don't. Who was the last person to let you down? Myself. When was the last time someone gave you flowers? Valentine's Day. Would you ever consider getting back together with an ex? No thankssss. Do you like it when someone takes you by surprise and kisses you? If it's Justin. Can you name a movie that makes you cry? Green Mile. What's your natural hair color? Brown. Do you sleep naked? Rarely. Is smoking a turn-off when it comes to being interested in someone? Nope. Have you ever dated someone who had kids? Yes, but they were my own kids haha What was the last book you read? I'm reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix to the boys. Have you kissed someone four or more years older than you? Yes. How about younger? Not 4 years younger, but yes, younger. Were your parents married when you were born? Yes, they got married while my mom was pregnant with me. Were you born before 1990? Yes. Is your hair longer than your shoulders? No. Why did you miss the last call you missed? I ignored it. Have you ever been pulled over twice in one day? No. When you need to vent, who do you turn to? Usually Justin. When was the last time you went to the movies with someone? UGH IT'S BEEN SO LOOOOONG. Are you comfortable in your own skin? Sometimes. Have you ever been told you’re a flirt? Yes. Are there any candles in the room with you? No. Does the last person you kissed have tattoos? Yes. Do you live within twenty miles of where you were born? Yes. Is it after five PM? Not quite. Is there someone you always call or text when you’re drunk? I don't drink anymore. Have you ever been engaged? Yes. Has anyone seen you naked in the last week? Yes. Were you dating anyone in October 2008? No. Where was your current profile picture taken? My room. Is your birthday in April? Nope. Are you a Libra? Nope. If you found twenty dollars, what would you spend it on? Cigarettes, probably. What's your favorite holiday? Fourth of July. Do you believe the saying that experience is the best teacher? Sure. When you’re at home with nothing to do, do you typically find yourself walking around or sitting about randomly wearing different clothing throughout the day, or do you usually stick to one outfit? Usually just one outfit unless the weather changes midday, as it wont to do in Texas. When at home with nothing to do, do you wear socks? No. When at home with nothing to do, do you typically spend your time in bed, on the couch in your living room, sitting in the kitchen or at your desk, or do you go between them all or some other variation? Bed, usually. What're things that you commonly do when you’re bored and can’t go out for whatever reason? Play video or phone games, watch Netflix. Do you watch TV when at home with nothing else to do, or do you spend most of your time reading? Both. What do you usually watch? Whatever I'm currently binging or maybe a couple movies. Depends on my mood. Do you wear socks to bed? No. What do you hate or love about jeans and sweatpants? I like how comfy they are, but there's like 8 months of the year I don't get to wear them bc it's hot af. How and in what situations do you usually wear them? Idfk, jesus. What about underwear? What about them?? What type of underwear do you prefer? Boy-cut. Is daytime television really starting to get to you and if so, why or are you addicted to it? No. You’re at home a lot when you’re not at school or working, aren’t you? Not really. What clothing do you sleep in? Usually just a shirt and undies. Is your bed actually a bed? Yes?? Do you prefer other sleeping arrangements rather than the usual bed and if so, why? No. Is your room a mess constantly and if so, why? Yes, because I'm lazy lol Is your new clothing constantly getting ragged and worn-out during short periods of time and you’re not sure why? Nope. How often do you shower? Every day or every other day. Do you wear a lot of make-up, some make-up or no make-up? Some. What’s your favorite make-up? Eyeshadow and mascara. Could you go out in public without make-up? Yes, but I don't too often. Do you do your nails often? No. What color are your fingernails? There's some tiny pieces of chipped charcoal gray polish lol How about your toenails? Charcoal gray, not chipped, bc for some reason it lasts forever on toenails lol Heels or flats? Flats Eyeliner or mascara? Mascara. Lip gloss or lipstick? Lipstick. Eyelash curler or tweezers? Tweezers. Vans or Converse? Converse. Nike or Adidas? Neither. What color are your socks? I'm not wearing any. What color's your bra? I'm not wearing that either. Are you wearing skinny jeans? No, leggings. Do you think you set or follow trends? Follow, I suppose. Have you ever done something just to fit in? When I was younger. Do you go to the mall often? God no. Do you have many friends? Sure. Do you dislike any of your friends? No. What’s your best friend ever's name? Justin, Kelsi, Krystle. Have you ever had a down moment with that person? Yes. What's your most memorable moment with that person? Idk. Who was your most recent missed call from? An unknown one. Who was the last person you called? My mother. What does your fifth message in your inbox say? My texts aren't done like that. Who was it from? -- Are you single or taken? I'm in a relationship. If you're taken, by who? I'm with Justin. What color are your eyes? Dark brown. What’s your favorite color? Grey. What song are you listening to right now? Whatever is on the computer game my youngest is playing. Do you like to dance? Sometimes. Do you like to sing? Yes. Do you believe in love at first sight? No. How about true love? Yes. Do you believe in bros before hoes? Ugh. Are you a whore? Nope. Are most of your friends guys or girls? It's pretty even. What's your favorite candy? Trolli gummy worms, Reese's. What's your favorite ice cream flavor? Rocky Road. Have you ever cried yourself to sleep? Yes. Have you ever slept on your computer? Probably. What's the longest you’ve used your computer? Idk. What's your favorite smiley? Just the generic ones. Do you edit your profile often? No. Have you ever been in a fist fight? Not really. Do you want to? Nope. Have you ever thought about having sex? I mean, yeah. Have you ever babysat and if so, who? Yeah, lots of kids. Have you ever waited so long for something you wanted to happen so bad? Probably. Have you ever not been yourself to impress someone? In the past, sure. Have you ever done yourself up very pretty with so much make-up and a whole different outfit to make a guy like you? Not to "make" a guy like me, but maybe because I wanted to look pretty for someone. Have you ever betrayed someone? Yes. Water or soda? Water. Coke or Pepsi? Coke. Looking behind you, what’s there? My kids' dresser that I took out of their room five years ago bc they kept jumping off of it, and I just never put it back lol Have you ever been rejected or dumped? Sure. Have you ever thought about what school would be like if someone didn’t go there? No. Do you hate anyone? Nah. What’s your locker number? I don't have a locker. Do you have good hygiene? Yes. Have you ever danced in front of the mirror? Yes. Are you craving something? I'm already snacking on what I was craving, guacamole. If you could have one thing right now, what would it be? That lol Would you rather have ten kids or none? Omg, none lol Is your bed against more than one of your walls? No. What’s on your mind right now? This survey, the episode of Breaking Bad I'm watching, and my snack. Are you there for your friends? Yes. Who was the last person to see you cry? My kids and their dad. What do you do when you get nervous? Fidget. Do you like people in general? No. How old do you think you'll be when you finally have kids? I was 19 with my oldest, 22 with my youngest. Does anyone completely understand you? Sure. Would you be happier if life had a rewind button? No. Do you tell your mom or dad everything? No. Does it matter to you if your boyfriend or girlfriend smokes? It doesn't. Are you going to get hurt anytime soon by someone? I hope not... This time last year, can you remember who you loved? Yes, it's the same person I love now. Do you think more about the past, present or future? Future. How many hours of sleep do you get a night? Not enough at all. Are you easy to get along with? I like to think so. Do you hate the last girl you had a conversation with? No, she's my best friend. What was the last drink that you put in your mouth? Water. What size bed do you have? Queen. Do you start the water before you get in the shower or when you get in? Before, so I can adjust the temp before I get in Do you like the rain? I do, unless it's been raining nonstop, like it is now. Do you think someone's thinking about you right now? Meh. Have you ever been hurt by someone you never thought would hurt you? Yes. Your parents are out of town, so would you throw a massive party? I'm 32. Do you regret a past relationship? Nah. Would you rather spend a Friday night at a concert or a crazy party? Concert. Do you tend to fall for the same type of person over and over? No. What're you doing tomorrow? Hopefully sleeping in late, hanging out with Kelsi at some point. Have you ever fallen asleep on someone? Yes. How has the past week been for you? Not bad, actually. Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to? Yes. What were you doing at midnight last night? Hanging out with Justin, watching Hunter x Hunter. What's your current mood? Good, slightly bored. Who was the first person you talked to today? My kiddos. Will this week be a good one? It's almost over, it's been decent. Did anything happen to you within the past month that made you really happy? Probably. Who were you with last night? Justin. Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night? No. When's the next time you'll kiss someone? Next time I see Justin, which should be Saturday. Who should start the kiss, the girl or the boy? Jesus. Do you have any plans for the weekend? Hanging out with Kelsi tomorrow, hanging out with Needles, Justin, and Carly on Saturday.

#survey #surveys

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aggresivelyfriendly · 4 years

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Day 14: The Last Day

Hi guys! Here she is! The last of our quarantine fic as the world is opening up, whether it should or not. It’s short, but felt complete! Huge thanks to everyone who read and reblogged! A huge thanks for @dirtystyles and @emulateharry for the read throughs and cheerleading! I am sure there will be other little odds and ends-

Harry’s POV maybe...

Day 14: The One With The Loss

"Where the f ..." Elise felt frantic, she could not find her bracelet. Her grandmother had given it to her. She didn't care at this point if she had to leave everything else behind, but she couldn't leave that.

She'd been incredibly close to her grandma Rose. On Some hard days, Elsie would have said she was the only one who ever really loved her. When she was dying Elise had gone to the hospital as much as possible to sit with her, at first to play cards, and then to hold her hand, and finally to curl up next to her and cry. When grandma was still able to talk she'd told her to go in her jewelry box, the one that was packed from her room at the assisted living facility and find her opal bracelet.

They shared an October 21st birthday. Grandma Rose said she'd had the bracelet since her sweet sixteen. Elise was a little older than that when she got it, but the bracelet was priceless and irreplaceable at this point. Her random t shirts and even her books could stay, but not her bracelet.

She'd been packing for a couple hours at this point. She wasn't aware she had this much stuff, or that it was so spread out. She'd been pretty unemotional through the whole process, until she couldn't find her bracelet. Elise might have been crying inside before then, but she was really freaking out now.

It was the first time she had cried since the talk with Harry.

"Is that what you're so scared of?" He'd said.

She'd scoffed. That got her back up. "I'm not scared of anything."

"Are you kidding me?" He actually laughed at her. "You're scared of everything!"

"Fuck you Harry! You don't know how I feel."

"Of course I don't. It might actually kill you to talk about your feelings or be honest." His hands were crossed over his chest.

"Honest, feelings? Cuz you are the king of talking about real shit?" Her hands came off her hips and she was pointing. "All we do is play, or fuck. You may actually be a lost boy."

"I'm just trying to read your comfort level, love. That seems to be the depth of life you're willing to deal in. Gotta keep it light for poor Elise, or she will run away. I'm dont even know why I bother." He sighed. "If you liked spending time with me at all, without being entertained all the time, I would not have to lure you out of your room every damn day with some promise of food or comfort or sex. It's so damn hard to know you."

"How dare you!" She seethed. He'd insinuated she was shallow right? That's what that bullshit about depth implied. "I am not shallow. Or a damn child who needs to be bribed. Maybe if I had any idea what I was doing here, or why you were being so nice to me, I'd not be so damn afraid I'd need to hide. I don't know you either, and your intentions are even more obscure."

"What you're doing here? I was just trying to make sure you were ok, or safe. Take care of you. If you were unwell it would be my fault."

"Cmon Harry, we both know you could have got us tests and sent me packing ages ago. What little fantasy are we living out here?"

"Yours!" He shouted.

And the conversation got more intense from there.

"Where could I have?" Elise's cheeks were wet; she was nauseous. This day had already been too much. She'd just got her head in her palms to weep when strong hands came onto her shoulders.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Harry asked into her black hair before kissing it.

"I can't find my grandma's bracelet anywhere. She gave it to me when they told her she was running out of time." She turned a watery frown on him and he placed a kiss on the tip of her nose.

"Ok, well tell me what it looks like and I'll help you."

Elise described the delicate piece and they each set off to look. She was essentially tossing things out of her way adding to the mess. The room had already looked casually like a bomb went off, but she was a mess when she looked for things. She did notice Harry was orderly in his disarray.

"When'd you wear it last?"

"I don't wear it. I'm too afraid I'll break it." She told him, and he chuckled.

"If you say something about patterns or bad habits I will cut you." She mentioned.

He put his hands up in surrender. And they both laughed.

He had a point.

Elise was thinking about how their fight the night before had gone when Harry said. "Is this it?"

"Oh my god." Tears filled her eyes anew and ran down her cheeks. "Thank you! What would I do without you?" It was an honest question. It had only been fourteen days but she honestly couldn't imagine not knowing him, really knowing him, not about him, or speculating about him, or inferring about him, or projecting about him. Knowing him, underneath his clothes, under his skin.

"No need to find out!" He smoothed her hair and then gave her a smooch. "Now, can you grab whatever you need so we can pretend we hate that we have to be locked in a house together for an undefined time."

She giggled. "You don't hate that you are stuck in your house with me for who knows how long?"

"Are you going to let me turn up the heater and stay naked?" He picked up one of the boxes she'd put together.

"Not all of the time."

"Then some of the time?" He curled his tongue and poked it to the side of his mouth.

How was she supposed to say no to that. "Maybe."

"Then hurry." Kiss. "Up." Kiss. " we need to go play strip scrabble."

"Im not playing scrabble with you." She said for the umpteenth time.

"Strip monopoly?"

"No."

"Apples to apples?"

"How the hell.." she just laughed at his hugely dimpled smile. "How about we just go in your hot tub and drink margaritas naked."

"Deal!" He started tossing clothes wildly into bags. It was out of character except for his insatibility. "Hurry up! We have plans!"

"To have sex?" God he was sooo cute. "More sex." She clarified.

"Yea, aren't those very important?" He stepped into her space and planted his hands on her hips and his flag in her heart. He'd leaned in close, but didn't connect their lips.

She gulped and leaned up against his arms keeping her feet planted and away from his tempting lips. "Yes, very important."

"Yeah." He said and kissed her silly.

She'd never done it on that bed. Seemed funny to do it after it had been stripped and with the knowledge it would never happen again.

It could have went another way. Elise kept catching herself in moments and feeling grateful, that once Harry started talking, he really started talking.

The day before, when he shouted the truth about living out her own fantasy, she'd started to walk away. She couldn't handle the truth. It was at least half true, it was a wonderful two weeks of her life, and it looked like now it was over. Elise knew she couldn't handle going back to his place and fighting more, or worse facing silent treatment. Plus, if he had wanted her there, he still hadn't said that today or before. She was about to cross the threshold of the room. Harry muttered something about her walking away.

She stopped and turned. She only had to walk away if she wanted to be done.

"This has been a fantasy, of course it has. Like a dream come true. And I'm really scared. I have no idea why I'm here, not really, or what we are doing, or what..." she sucked in some oxygen. "Or what." She felt tears building in her eyes. "How you feel about me." She expected him to say something, but instead he just stood and stared at her, waiting for her to talk. "And what happens tomorrow."

"What?" It was the first thing he'd said during her rant.

"We' re almost done with friends." She whispered.

He was nodding. "We are. so?"

"You said." She swallowed. "Last week you said we should finish Friends, the you said we only had three more days to finish."

He was nodding. "I guess I did, but Elise, the end of friends, it doesn't mean the end of us. And I'll answer all the questions you have. If you want the answers. But, I'll be honest and say I have no idea how you feel about me, like the real me, too. It's why I held back so long."

"So long? It's only been two weeks."

"Pretty intense two weeks." He wiped her tears. "It felt like forever. I wanted to love you up by day five."

She giggled. "Me too."

"Ugh." He groaned. "All that missed opportunity." But they were both smiling. "New challenge: make up for lost time now."

She was shaking her head at his ridiculous eyebrows. "So, you like me?" She asked.

"At the risk of being really obvious, I like you, like really like you, maybe could be more." He tilted her chin up. "and you like me? Me me?"

Elise nodded then thought she had already been this brave. "More than like, I think."

He beamed. "Honestly Elise, when I first brought you home it was out of guilt and because it didn't initially occur to me to just get tests." He looked down. "I had Jeff do research, and we had to wait a few days, and by then, well, I really liked spending time with you."

"Me too." All these confession made her feel like a feather.

"And nothing happens tomorrow. It's not some scary end date, I'm not kicking you out at check out time." He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "Honestly? I'd really like it if you stayed with me, for however long this lasts. We've already been exposed to each other.."

"You think?"

"Very exposed to each other." He laughed with her. "And then after, whenever that is. We talk about it. You can keep your place, or save the money."

"I could pay for groceries."

He sighed. "Ok, you can pay for groceries." He quirked a brow and the dimples that bracketed his mouth wanted to break free, they just needed her response. "Does that mean you'll stay?"

"I'll stay." The full wattage of his smile was really like A full moon on a clear night. He bridged the space between them and swooped her into his arms.

"Good, I'd miss you if you were gone."

"I'd miss you if I was gone too." She was honest, hopefully it would become a new habit.

"Then let's not let that happen." He kissed her then, and it was a piece of this tiny instance of forever she'd keep always, if they wound up married fifty years or broke up by pandemic's end.

"Can I tell you something really crazy?"!She asked with her ear pressed to his heart. She felt his body nod on her head. "I'm so glad you sneezed in my face."

"Yeah?" He asked. "I could do it again?" He offered, his body vibrating with his laugh.

"I'm good now thanks. But, I'm still glad it happened."

"Me too baby, me too."

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #quarantine fic #day fourteen #the one with the loss

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curse-of-the-dark-emerald · 4 years

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Curse of the Dark Emerald, chapter 1

Author's Notes: Hello everyone this is my first time writing for Sonic and tackling the idea of Sonic in the movie verse as a Werehog because since watching the film I think myself and a lot of others have been egging (no pun intended xD) to have a shot at this. So I hope as my first time it comes off good and not too terrible! Apologies for any story mistakes! Please enjoy and keeping it at around PG-13 rated.

...

Tom Wachowski unlocked the door to his house, his body slumped involuntarily as he entered, it was a long, and dull uneventful day. He was tired from doing the usual patrolling of Green Hill and not much happened, which was pretty typical. Ozzy, his beloved golden retriever didn’t waste time greeting his owner and stood on his back legs lurching his upper body on Tom in the form of a hug.

“Hey, Oz! Good boy!”

Ozzy manages to leave a lick of drool on his face and instantly after receiving the affection, he settles down and sits at Tom’s feet. A neon, blue line zipped behind Ozzy.

“Hey, Donut Lord! You’re back!”

A young, blue hedgehog jumps onto Tom’s chest and and embraces him into a hug, Tom could feel his quills against his head bristling. Sonic’s cheeks were blushing from the joy to see his best friend back home. Electric green eyes meet Tom’s.

“Hey, bud, good to see you.” Tom returns the hug and gently drops Sonic to the floor.

Sonic rests his fists on his sides, “You bring anything cool back? Like some food?” Sonic makes the brightest smile at Tom.

“Sorry, bud. Not this time.” Tom chuckled at Sonic, knowing him he was thinking he’d brought home a take out meal for free.

Sonic groaned, “Aww come on! I haven’t had a chili dog in like, forever!” He folds his arms and huffs at Tom.

“Hi, Tom.”

Maddie appears and made her greeting with a peck on the cheek for Tom. “Don’t worry about him, he’s been good today.”

“Oh I’m not worried about that,” Tom took off his coat and put it on the coat hanger, ''But I’m more worried about Mr. Flash here getting too fat, for sure!” He teases.

Sonic laughs, but pauses; and he furrows his eyes, “Hey!”

“Did you take your nap, earlier, Sonic? Tom gives Sonic a pat on his head before walking past him and going into the kitchen.

“Of course I did!” Sonic rolled his eyes.

“I made some soup and breadsticks, so no hot dogs Sonic.” Maddie winked at Sonic, she knew his bribery at Tom had failed.

“Yeah, yeah ,okay.” Sonic sighed in disappointment, and took a seat at the table.

“Hey Sonic, how’re your muscles feeling?” Maddie finished bringing all the utensils for Tom and Sonic and sat down, grinning at the hedgehog.

“Really sore.” Sonic moans a little and rubs his back, “That workout was a killer yesterday, I don’t think I’ll do it again.”

Both of them laughed to each other, Maddie took her turn to tease him.

Tom smiles to himself warmly, his job may be dull at times but it was a different story here at home, which he didn’t mind. He always felt happier and lighter seeing Sonic as the new member of the household, officially welcomed after he and Maddie made him his own room in the attic. That was only a few weeks ago, and October was just around the corner. Tom and Maddie had already mentioned to Sonic about Halloween, which of course the little hedgehog was excited for, but that would be discussed later on.

Sonic was his usual chipper self, talked about his day but also made sure to let his guardians speak as well. Which he was getting better at. Tom let himself to the daily newspaper while Sonic and Maddie made small talk, turning the thin pages from time to time, reading the daily funny comics, then the weather, then he remembered he forgot to even look at the front page, the title in black, bold letters read

“Trick of the Eyes? Or the new Montana’s “Northern Lights?”

“Woah..”

Tom scans over the slightly blurred picture below the main headline, which was in color thankfully; showing that in the next town over, there were sights of odd, but dazzling green and blue rays reminiscent of the northern lights anyone was familiar with in the Northern continents, but different.

“Hey, wanna see something cool?”

Sonic’s lime-green orbs lit up at Tom, “Yeah, sure, what’s up?”

Tom folds the paper for him to see better, “Looks like you might not be the only alien thing around,” he jokes.

But the moment Sonic looked at the picture of the headline, his eyes went sharp and into a trance, he gingerly took the paper, read it over and didn’t say another word. Sonic’ss mouth hung agape a little, but made no sound.

Maddie and Tom glanced at each other, not knowing when or what to say at first, but Tom beats her to it, “Sonic? What’s the matter?”

Sonic blinked his eyes and finally made his gaze at them, “I’m okay! It really is cool, Tom.”

Sonic almost couldn't finish his sentence and was interrupted by a yawn. He shook his head to fight the sudden sleepiness.

“Are you all done with your food?” Maddie began taking dishes to the sink.

“Yep, I’m done.” Sonic gently pushed his plate away and got down, heading for his room.

Tom still kept watch on Sonic’s expression the whole time, he could tell the young hedgehog has something lingering in his mind, behind that smile. But, he thought, I’ll give him his space for now.

“Good night, Sonic!” Maddie gently shouts so she could overpower the sound of clinking dishes and running water.

“Goodnight!” Sonic makes a hasty wave at Tom and dashed to his room, opening the floor boarded door and closing it behind him.

“Ugh, I gotta..go..!”

Sonic fumbles with his words and thoughts, trying to think and properly conjure the crazy idea that he was about to do,

“That story in the paper...it felt so weird...and it's bugging me…”

Sonic tosses all his belongings that were on the floor which were just left scattered around messily, looking for the most important things to him, his brain couldn’t remember where he put them, until he checked the drawers and instantly, his pouch of Rings were there in his stash of socks.

“Cool beans, I gotcha! Now, I should...UGH I gotta go now! No no no, calm down and slow down, I can’t just go there yet…”

Sonic took a sharp breath in, and slowed his brain down to think more clearly, “I have to wait until they’re asleep. So they don’t worry.”

It was finally settled on what he had to do. While he waited for Tom and Maddie to get to bed and sleep, he made his quick preparations on what to take for this short journey to the town outside of Green Hill. Sonic looked out the upper window of his room, a near full moon glistened it’s face downwards with it’s light.

“Backpack, check. Flashlight, check.”

Sonic grabbed his Rings, took one out and held it firmly in his hand, and stashed the rest into his bigger bag. Happy with his things, he took a step towards the door,

A rustle of noises was heard outside, he whipped to see what it was from and thought he also saw a pair of red eyes peering from the same window. The years of old paranoia washed over and Sonic quickly checked outside on the roof, and he found nothing about that could be spying.

“Come on, let’s go already.” Sonic griped at himself to get going, shook his head, and went to his door, the house lights below were off and a dark staircase greeted him.

Sonic quietly tiptoed to Tom and Maddie’s room, and he was happy to find out his timing was good, they were preparing to go to sleep, but they spoke amongst themselves in their room which muffled both voices a little bit.

“He had a weird reaction to that story from the paper, you think he’s okay?”- Maddie

“Not sure, but it might not be that big of a deal.”-Tom

A sigh was let out from one of them, though Sonic couldnt see who it was.

“You’re probably right, but I’m...a little worried.”

Tom took the covers and slipped on the bed, “I’ll admit I am a little too, but for now if Sonic wants to tell us what it is, let’s just wait.”

Sonic’s chest tightened, he felt a little guilty for what he was about to do and rethinks if telling both of them would be best, but he was happy to hear they were so concerned about him.

“Okay, Tom. I don’t want to press him either, but you’re totally right.”

They’ll be fine.

Sonic had heard just enough to put himself at ease, he heard the bedroom become silent not long after, that was the que to make his move.

He promised to himself, “I’ll be back before the sun comes up.”

Sonic went back upstairs to his room, took the golden ring in hand, tossed it and a whirl of energy and wind blows, the ring showcases a sea of green pine trees on the other side,

“Nothing wrong with a little adventure, right?” Sonic rubbed his gloves together, his nervousness had vanished with the thought of what could be on the other side, waiting for him.

He goes in and the ring closes. His room was now vacant. Until an arm pulls down the window pane on the ceiling...

A black clothed person carefully props himself to the floor, wearing red tinted goggles on his head and a black beanie to mask himself.

“Whew, close one.”

After getting his balance, the man moves his goggles up his face, Agent Stone had been following his target for the last few days. He scans the room for anything he could use to further his plans into action, the execution to start could now begin.

“What now..? Oh..?” Stone’s eyes catch onto something interesting,

A single gold ring glowed on the floor, he grinned playfully at the item, studying it.

“He used this to disappear? Hmm..”

He barely moved his fingers and the ring slips from his grasp, clumsily it falls back on the floor, opening a portal.

“Woah, what the-?” Stone stepped back, startled.

From what he could see it was the same place his target took off to, green forests of trees and he saw large footprints from where Sonic was headed.

“No time to waste, then.”

He had his mission to fulfill, and he took the jump inside the ring, and it closed from behind. Stone looked back expecting the bedroom to be there, but it wasn’t. Stone went into focus and followed Sonic’s footsteps.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic the hedghog movie #sonic unleashed #sonic #sonic fanart #sonic the werehog #sonic fanfiction

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