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millenialfanfictionaddiction · 2 years ago

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New Girl At Nekoma:

Kuroo's Crush

Tetsuro Kuroo featuring Nekoma x female! reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: none

A/N: This is a request @times-new-roman-in-pastel! It's also this roosters birthday so Happy Birthday to our favorite Sports Promoter 🥰🥰

I apologize for being MIA for a while, poor mental health and general sickness have all but consumed my life but I promise I’m around 🖤

Oof YN 😬

Having to switch schools at the beginning of your third year 🫠

Honestly I don’t even know if crying will help at this point

Your guardian accepted a new job in Tokyo so of course you followed suit, moving from a small town to the huge city

It was a big change and an even bigger change looking at your new high school

Nekoma High School 🙌🏻

Honestly we love it

Well YOU don’t currently love it night but trust me you will soon enough 😏

Trust the process YN

You stand outside looking at the school as you take a deep breath and walk in

The halls are crowded and everyone is staring at you

Not only because you are the new kid but also because you are so pretty 🤩

Turning heads everywhere you go YN!

However right now it’s very overwhelming because, well once again, everyone is staring at you

You look around, trying to find your classroom but much to your dismay, it seems to not exist

But we don’t give up so easily! Oh no no

You mentally calm yourself, turning around to start over

Unfortunately when you turn around you turn smack into two boys

Subsequently you tumble to the ground, landing hard

“Are you ok?” An angelic voice chimes

You look up, seeing a tall boy and a shorter boy staring at you

“Yeah I’m ok, sorry for running into you,” you say as the shorter boy extends his hand to help you

“Sorry for knocking you down, ummm I’m sorry I don’t know your name?” The shorter boy says

“Oh I’m Yn, it’s my first day,” you say smiling and fixing your skirt and blouse

“Welcome to Nekoma YN, I’m Yaku and this is Kai,” the shorter boy says

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say smiling softly

Yaku and Kai smile back but before you can say anything

We hear an agitating, grading voice 😒

“Yaku!! Hey Yaku!”

You look over to see a very tall, white haired boy and a boy with a Mohawk approaching

“Yaku, hey I need your help!”

Yaku rolls his eyes as you watch their interaction, “Lev if it’s help with your receives, I’ll pass”

Lev 👉🏻 😱 offended

Meanwhile the boy with the Mohawk is just staring at you 👁️👄👁️

“For goodness sakes Yamamoto, stop staring at the new girl, it’s creepy!”

“Like you yelling that isn’t also creepy,” another boy says as he walks past with his head in a video game

“Hey are you really a new girl?” The tall boy known as Lev asks

You just smile and shake your head

“What in the heck are you all doing-” a tall, handsome dark haired boy approaches and halts as his eyes meet yours

You blush a little, smiling at the boy

Kai and Yaku be like 👀 😐😏

So now you have two guys staring at you as well as utter chaos ensuring around

Way to go Yn 👏 great job 🙄

“Umm hello, I’m Yn. I’m sorry for causing all this commotion. I’m new here and I’m afraid I’m lost,” you say

The tall, rooster haired boy 👉🏻😳

“What classroom are you looking for Yn?” Kai asks

You tell him as Yaku interrupts

“Hey Kuroo’s in that class, he can show you the way right captain?” Yaku says smacking Kuroo’s back

Kuroo👉🏻👁️👄👁️ umm yeah

“Thanks Kuroo, I appreciate it!” You say beaming

Please Yn, he starts blushing so hard 🥹

Yaku and Kai watch as you and Kuroo walk to class

“Heys making a fool of himself,” Kai says

“Isn’t it glorious?” Yaku laughs 😂

From that day forward, it was safe to say our precious captain cat developed a tiny crush on you

Well not really TINY

Man’s fell so hard for you Yn it’s unreal

He loved spending time with you, walking you to class and even eating with you

Subsequently, you became besties with the boys volleyball team

Your proximity to the team came with mixed reviews

Lev was rather annoying per the usual, Kenna acted like he normally did and Yamamoto essentially ceased all functioning when you were around

Honestly what I wouldn’t give to be a flu on that wall 🤣

You developed a closeness to the boys and soon found yourself in the current situation

“YN you should just be our manager,” Yaku blurted out one day at lunch

Kuroo 👉🏻 *literally choking* 👁️👄👁️ whet-

“I mean, she’s always hanging around so she should probably make herself useful,” Yaku shrugged

“Wow what an enticing invitation,” Kenna said 😐🙄

“Well I mean, Kuroo basically drools- HEY!” Yaku screeched as Kuroo jabbed him in the stomach

“I do actually know a little about volleyball! I use to be friends with the manager of the volleyball team at my last school!” You smile

“You mean, we could actually have a girl manager? Yamamoto exclaimed

“It’s up to the captain I think,” Kai said as everyone looked at Kuroo

Kuroo looked over at you as you beamed at him, how could he say no

He’s literally such a simp for you Yn and this was his chance to keep you close 🥰

“Well if you want to Yn-”

Before he can even finish, you fling yourself into his arms for a huge hug

Kuroo 👉🏻😐😳

You 👉🏻🥹 🫂

Yaku and Kai 👉🏻😏

Yamamoto 👉🏻 jealous 😠

Kenna 👉🏻🙄 📱

Please YN do less ✋🏻

As it turns out, you becoming Nekoma’s manager was both a good and a bad decision

Because now Kuroo would have to share you with not only his teammates but with the teams they played against

For example, someone’s always interrupting his nerdy jokes 😒

“Hey YN, why can’t you trust an atom?” Kuroo asks

“I don’t know why?” You say

“YN EMERGENCY HELP!” Lev screams as he runs in, Yaku hot on his tail

“LEV GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!” Yaku screams as Fukunaga, Yamamoto and Inuoka follow

“What happened?” You ask as Kuroo narrows his eyes 😑

“Yaku said Lev would never measure up to him and Lev said ‘but Yaku I’m already taller than you’ and Yaku got mad,” Yamamoto said

You 👉🏻😐 really?

“YN stop him from killing me! You need my height!” Lev screeches

“You suck Lev we can do without you,” Kenma says

We love it here 🤦🏻‍♀️

Meanwhile poor Kuroo is just standing there with the punchline to his joke, all deflated 😞

The punchline btw was “because they make up everything” 😩

Often times, Kuroo finds himself just watching you

kind of creepy? Yes but stay with me

“Why don’t you just tell her you like her?” Kai asked

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Kuroo says

“Really? We can all see how bad you have it for Yn, you are horrible at hiding it,” Kenma says walking past

Kuroo 👉🏻🥲

“Just confess to her,” Kai says

“I don’t know how and what if she doesn’t like me back?” Kuroo asks

For real?? Have you seen yourself Kuroo 🤔

“The training camp is coming ip next week, that’s the perfect time to confess!” Kai shouts

Kuroo thinks about it as he watches you

What does he really have to lose? I mean you’ve always been sweet to him and kind

Surely you like him too right?

Spoiler alert: you do 😍

Summer camp comes and Kuroo is so nervous

He has it all planned out perfectly

He will tell you how much he likes you and you will reciprocate and you will both live happily ever after 😍

Too bad that doesn’t happen 😃

“YN??? Is that you??” A voice booms from behind Nekoma

Karasuno stands there, their eyes wide as you stare back

“Holy crap! What are you guys doing here?” You yell, running towards them as Kiyoko appears

“YN HOLY CRAP IS THAT YOU?” She screams as you both hug

Nekoma is looking on, so very confused 🤨

“Uhhh YN?” Yaku asks

“These are my old friends! I use to go to Karasuno before I transferred here!” You smile

“YN we’ve missed you! It’s so good to see you!” Daichi says, hugging you

Oof Kuroo is seeing red right now 😡

“YN are you with Nekoma?” Suga asks as you nod

Kuroo stomps up to you, putting his arm around you as Daichi looks on

Kai, Yaku, Suga and Asahi 👉🏻👀🍿

“YN is my manager,” Kuroo says oh so confidently

“Our manager, idiot,” Kenma corrects, walking by 🙄

Daichi and Kuroo are in a staring match right now Kenma don’t interrupt!

“Come on YN let’s go,” Kuroo says, pulling you away

“Oh ok! I’ll see you guys later!” You say waving at your former school friends

As training camp progresses, Kuroo finds himself more agitated 😠

Seriously, on top of his team not letting him have a moment with you, now Karasuno is monopolizing your time!

“YN it’s so awesome to see you again!” Asahi says

“I can’t believe you’re working with these city boys now YN!” Tanaka scowls

Please Yn, smack him ✋🏻 🧑🏼‍🦲

“We all know YN really misses us the most,” Daichi adds, smirking at Kuroo

Kuroo 👉🏻🔥👄🔥

“Daichi knock it off-” you start to say, too bad you are interrupted by a certain someone 👀

“As a matter of fact, my dear Daichi, YN is SO much happier at Nekoma. She’s way to pretty and perfect to be stuck in some country bumpkin town!” Kuroo shouts

Kai, Yaku, Suga, and Asahi 👉🏻😳😲

Kiyoko 👉🏻😏

You 👉🏻😐😳🥹

“Tetsuro you think I’m pretty?” You say

“And perfect Yn don’t forget he said that too,” Yaku adds

Kuroo realizing what he said 👉🏻😐😳😰

“Ummm well yeah I do-” but before he can finish his sentence YN swoops in for a cheek kiss 😘

Kuroo 👉🏻😐🤯 YN I LIKE YOU ALOT WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME

Kai and Yaku 👉🏻😐🤦🏻‍♂️

Suga and Asahi 👉🏻 😃😃

Kenma 👉🏻 🙄 📱

“I like you too Tetsuro and I’d love to go out with you,” you say as Kuroo practically explodes and grabs you, swinging you around as you laugh

Yaku and Kai are probably whipping tears away 🥲

YN you are one luckily lady!

571 notes · View notes

hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog · 8 months ago

Note

Tell me about Dean falling in love with a girl who has long covid - maybe they met when he saved her from a monster and they became friends, she occasionally helps him with research or patches him up if he gets hurt. He doesn’t hear from her for a while, and when he goes to check on her, he finds out she’s in the hospital with Covid - a monster he can’t save her from. He realizes he loves her, but may lose her. After she gets out he keeps coming to check on her because he knows she tires easily/has trouble breathing at times.

@deans-spinster-witch thank you for this ask. Actually thank you all that submit asks or sent me story prompts, I am going to get to them all, but I thought this one would be a good place to start.

First let me start off with my disclaimers:

1) I haven't see the last few seasons of SPN, so I don't know how they addressed COVID, if they did at all. So think of it as alternative timeline, not really canon.

2) My COVID representation is probably not 100% accurate, either by the reader symptoms or that I don't mention Dean wearing a mask or that he was able to be in the hospital with the reader.

3) I just POV and I think I may have jump from 2nd to 3rd person writing? I did my best to correct it, but sometimes I can't seem to correct it. Also did my best with editing, but I am sure I missed something. Flashbacks are bold italic and internal thoughts are just italic.

4) I am not sure if this is 100% what you were looking for. It does end on a cliffhanger, so I will be posting a second part. It was getting hella long coming in at 7,500 words. 😬 sorry.

5) swearing, hints of past trauma that we may get more in the second part. Self doubt/hate. Angst heavy!

Okay think that's it. It's a Y/N x Dean focus story with Sam making an appearance via phone. Characters are not mine but the work is. So please don't post as your own.

Feel free to like, reblog, send me feedback in the comments. And if you have a story idea, send it my way via asks or message. Or if you want me to tag you on my work let me know.

Okay think I have stalled long enough. Here it is, my first story back from 3 year break.

JUST BREATHE-

"Excuse me, sir, you can't be up here." A female voice, strong, laced with exhaustion, mixes with the sounds of the hospital. Doctors are being paged, staff are going in and out of rooms, and machines are monitoring patients. All of it, white noise, too, Dean. Because he can't look away or tear his eyes from what is in front of him. Y/N is lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a ventilator. What happened? How did it come on so strong and so fast? He had just seen you last week when he came through town on his way to his next hunt. Picking up research that you had done for him since Sam was working on another case in California. You were the best…no, are, you are the best researcher he knows…you have to get better; you can't…

"Sir! I will have to ask you to leave if you're not family. The ICU is only for families." The female voce, insistent on getting him to pay attention to her. Tired, she was just so damn tired of no one listing to her today; she had better things to do than police people about.

"How long has she been here?" Dean asks, his voice firm but slightly wavering. He can't look away, watching as the vent goes up and down, breathing for you. Y/N, come on, you have to pull through; I can't lose you, Dean thinks, trying his best not to break. He prayed to God if he thought it would help if he thought the ass would be listing.

"Sir, I can't give that information if you're not family." Dean looks away from you for a moment, noticing the nurse standing beside him. She is dressed in blue scrubs, her hair pulled back, and a mask on. He can tell she is on her last nerve with him, and he has to win her over. He can't leave you, not now. "So, are you family?" she asks again.

"Umm…" He knew he needed to lie. If he told her that you were just a friend, he would never get answers and would never get back to this floor again. It was dumb luck that he could get your room number out of the receptionist downstairs. He pulled himself together to give her his winning smile and wink. "She's my sister." Clearing his throat, he looked back to you.

The nurse looks down at the chart in her hand. "Miss. Moore didn't have a brother listed as next of kin, but then again, a neighbor brought her in." Looking back up to Dean, he doesn't respond. "How about we go somewhere a little more private to discuss your sister's condition?" She lightly grabs Dean by the shoulder and turns him away from the window and you.

********

Dean did his best to listen to the nurse, but all he really wanted to do was get back to you. It was driving him crazy that he couldn't do anything; this wasn't caused by a demon, monster, or anything in his wheelhouse. You were brought in about a day or two after he had seen you. Your neighbor had come over to borrow something and saw you in the window, passed out on the floor. COVID had hit you hard, and you just couldn't shake it; your lungs filled up so fast with fluids that you passed out.

That was a week ago; you had been in the hospital for a week and on a ventilator. The doctors feel that your body just needs time to fight off the infection.

"She seemed fine when I saw her last; how could this happen?" Dean questions, trying to be as respectful as possible without raising his voice and getting kicked out.

"COVID hits everyone differently; we really don't know why. Some people may never get it, and some…" Not finishing her statement, the nurse looks away from Dean.

"Can I go back and sit with her?" Dean asks, more like pleading with her. He just wants to ensure you're doing alright and stand watch until you wake up. He doesn't know what else to do.

"I am sorry, but no," the nurse replies as kindly as possible. Seeing that he will protest this, she quickly adds, "But, you can come back during visiting hours. You won't be able to go in the room; we have to keep it clean because of COVID, but you can see her from the window." Hoping this will be a compromise he can live with. She doesn't want him to get upset and have to call security and have him escorted out. She can tell he cares for her and is scared.

Dean will take it; he knows he has to. You're the strongest person he knows. You will get through this; you have to. "Alright, I guess I will come back then," Dean says, getting up from the table.

********

Walking out of the hospital, Dean calls Sam to tell him what is happening and that he wasn't leaving until you were back home. Screw the world, let the monsters run amuck, and let demons rain hell on earth; he had more important things to do. "I don't care, Sammy, I am not leaving again. This is the only number you can reach me at, and only you," he says, getting into the Impala and firing it up.

"Alright, Dean. I hear you. Do you want me to come? I am almost done here." Sam offers, knowing that Dean won't take him up on it.

"No, I am good, but thanks. You stay on the West Coast until the world calms itself down." Letting the engine run for a bit, Dean takes a second. This has been the longest they have been working apart. It's been hard on both of them, but at least Dean has you to talk to. He has been leaning on you more since Sam was in California. Could Dean have caused this? Was he asking too much of you?

"Dean, hey, you still there?" Sam breaks through his intrusive thoughts.

Clearing his voice, "Yeah."

"You know, she will get through this. She's going to be okay," Sam says, trying his best to reassure him and get him out of his head because even if they are miles apart, he knows his brother. Dean is blaming himself right now for something that he can't control.

“Yeah, I know… I just… what if I…..”

"No, don't think like that, and don't think you had anything to do with this happening." Sam quips back, knowing where his brother's thoughts are going, and he will not have him spiraling out.

"But I ask so much of her. You know she will never say no. Even when she has other things to do, she always drops everything when I ask for a favor. God, I am such a user…"

"No, you're not. Y/N is strong, and she said she would tell you if she didn't want to do something. She wants to help; she thrives on researching this stuff, and you know it." Sam states, "Come on, you know she would rather research lore or listen to one of your 'tales from the front lines,' as she likes to call them, any day of the week."

The thought of you saying these words to him as you patch him up, 'Alright, Dean, what tales to do we have this time?' or how your voice would be giddy when he called you about a case he found. "Yeah, you're right, Sam," Dean replies. Feeling a bit better after talking with Sam, he always knows how to keep him from spiraling too much.

"I know I am; now go get some rest. She's going to need you when she wakes up."

"Night brother"

After hanging up the phone, Dean didn't want to go to a hotel or bar, but he was now wired and needed to do something. Pulling out of the parking lot was second nature, and he found his way to your driveway.

Sitting there, looking at the modest, two-bedroom, two-bath house, he would consider a second home for as much time as he has spent there. It was odd to think about walking through that door and you not being there. When getting out of the car, the sound of the door opening and closing is the only noise that breaks up the silence of the night. Taking a few steps, Dean stops himself from knocking like he usually does. Habit, he thinks. Pulling his keys out, he flips until he finds the one for your house.

It was an argument you had won, not that he didn't want a key. Of course, he did, but he didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands should something happen.

"No, I don't need a key, Y/N," Dean protest, not wanting to have this conversation right now.

"Yes, you do; now take it." You say, holding out the key for him to take.

"I don't need it; you're always here. Why would I need to get into your place when you're not here?" he questions. Finishing off his beer, he gets up from the couch and heads toward the kitchen. "You want another one?" he asks, trying to change the subject.

You get up and follow him. "Don't change the subject, Winchester," you say, following him and sitting on a kitchen stool. What if I wasn't home tonight?"

Tossing the empty bottle in the recycle bin and turning to face her, he can tell by the severe look on your face that this is an argument that he won't win. But why make it easy on you. "But you were," giving you a smirk, he opens the fridge to pull out two more bottles. "Besides, where would you be on a Friday night? You have a hot date I don't know about?" he questions. Handing one of the bottles to you.

He struggles slightly to open the bottle with his left hand since his right is currently in a sling. After putting his shoulder back into place and stitching him up, you open the beer in your hand, hand it to him, and take the other one from him. "Maybe," you say cryptically, a twinkle in your eyes.

"Really? Didn't know you were dating anyone?" Dean is slightly put off by this. It's not that someone would want to date you; it's the opposite. You're beautiful, and he always wonders how you were still single after all this time. Intelligent and funny, any guy would be lucky to call you his. Heck, he would like to call you his.

"I am not," you say, putting him out of his misery and his slight spiral of another guy touching her, kissing her… But I could still be out. Do you want to be sitting out in your car waiting for me to get home?" you question, pushing the key towards him. "Just take the dam key. It's only a key. I am not asking you to move in with me."

If you asked him that, he would say yes in a heartbeat. But the reality of his life, what he and Sam do for a living, gives him pause to take the key. "I just don't want anyone else to get their hands on it."

"Who, like Sam? Of course, you can give a copy to Sam." You joke, knowing what he's getting at but trying your best to keep this conversation light.

"No, not Sam. I am thinking Crowley, another demon or monster, or worse, Lucifer. I would hate for anyone other than Sam or me to get their hands on this and come after you."

"Dean, that's not going to happen."

"But it could, you know it could."

Letting out a sigh, you decide to pull out the big guns to get him to take this damn key. "A key is not their first choice to get in. You have put up all the wards you could think of." You say, proving that you are as safe as possible. "Heck, you made me even get this thing." Snapping off your leather bracelet to show off the anti-possession tattoo. "and you know how much I hate needles." The black tattoo shows nicely against your light skin and hides the other barely visible scars.

"Yeah, I found out real quick that day. I think I still have scars on my arm from you digging your nails in," he jokes, bringing his hand up to his wrist to run his fingers around the tattoo and the scars he knows are there.

"Haha, that's real funny." You fake laugh. " Just take it, please. It will make me feel better if you have it." You do your best puppy dog eyes as you push the key closer to him.

Dean takes a moment before caving. "Alright, but I am only going to use it for emergencies." he conceits, taking his keys out and putting your house key on the ring with the rest.

Getting up from the stool, you smile at him, "Thank you, Dean," you say sweetly and hug him.

Dean shakes his head, trying to shake the thoughts from that night, as he shuts the door behind him. He stood in the entryway, just taking in the quietness of the house, holding his breath, waiting for you to come down the hallway, saying, ‘Dean, you look like shit; what were you up against this time? Let me get you patched up, and you can tell me all about it.’ Guiding him to the kitchen, you would pull the first aid kit and a beer from the fridge.

Watching these memories play out in front of him, it's not until he lets out a shaky breath that he had been holding that he feels the tears run down his face, "Fuck! Y/N, you got to get better, okay…." choking back, "I can't lose you." The thought of losing another important person in his life. Someone who should have a happy and long life and who, without them, Dean wouldn't be standing here today. He owes everything to you.

Dean can't bring himself to step past the entryway, feeling like an intruder. "I can't…" feeling pressure in his chest, he turns and walks out the door. Locking the door and making the short walk to his car, the pressure subsides once he is in the driving seat. Knowing he can't stay in the house. Too many memories of you and his dark thoughts will keep him up. He also can't put the car in drive and go to the motel just outside of town. It's like his body won't let him leave.

*******

Y/N POV

You were in the hospital for two weeks, and Dean was by your side, or somewhat outside your hospital room, every day, every hour he could be. At least that is what the nurse told you once you were awake. Your 'brother' Dean has been by your side. The first time they told you this, you looked confused, which caused concern from the staff.

"Your brother, Dean," the nurse says again, her voice laced with concern as she points to the window that looks into your room from the hallway.

You turn your head slightly, your body stiff from being in bed for so long, and the breathing tube just being taken out. There you see him, Dean Winchester, raising his hand to give you a short wave, and a look of relief washes over his face, which is covered with a slightly heavy five-clock shadow. You give him a smile and look back at the nurse. "Yeah, sorry, of course, he's my brother. Just didn't know anyone called him?" you reply, "Can I have some water?" you ask, you're throat feeling like sandpaper.

"Sure," the nurse says, filling a cup and handing it to you. "Well, the doctor will be in soon," she says, giving you a short smile and walking towards the door.

"Umm, can my brother come in?" you ask. Knowing that no matter what she says, Dean will make it in here one way or the other. The nurse hesitates. "It's just that I would like him to hear what the doctor says. I am still groggy, not sure I am going to remember everything he tells me," you add, hoping this will pull on her heartstrings just a bit.

Which does work, "Sure." she replies, giving you a smile and then walking out the door. She briefly talks to Dean before walking away, and Dean enters the room.

"Hey, sweetheart," Dean says, shutting the door behind him and walking towards you.

"Hey yourself," you reply. You try to sit up a bit more, but you struggle a bit.

Dean quickly gets to you. " Here, let me," he says, finding the remote for the bed, setting you upright, and then readjusting your pillows. "Good?" he asks once it looks like you're settled.

Feeling slightly embarrassed that he saw you like this, you’re sure you're a mess, bed hair, hospital gowns, and oh man…your breath has got to stink by now, right? Trying your best not to breathe out, "Yeah, thanks." you quickly reply. Dean sits in the chair next to your bed but doesn't say anything. Okay, guess you will start. "So brother, hum?" you quip.

He smiles at this and looks away from you to the bedding. "Yeah, I had to say something; otherwise, they would never let me back in." Then, looking back at you, a slight panic sets in that you might be mad at him for this small lie. " You're not mad, are you?" he asks.

"No, of course not," you reply, wanting to reassure him that everything is fine. This does, as relief washes over him a second time. You hold out your hand for him to take. "Just wonder what Sam will say about having a little sister, that's all. I am sure he will hate being the middle child," you joke.

Dean gives a short laugh: "Oh, Sammy will be all right with it. He will be happy to hear you're awake, is all." Dean's fingers rubbing your hand back and forth are nice.

"How did you know I was here?" you ask, trying to remember the day before you were brought in, but it's all a blur. Was he coming to see you? Was he working on a case?

"I was coming back through, and you had helped me with the case in North Carolina…" lowering his voice, even though you're in a private room," that Dinji." Dean recounts, seeing you not remember. He continues, "I stopped by your place, and your neighbor was out and said you were in the hospital."

None of that is registering at all, like last month, which is a blank slate. Fuck, what else are you not remembering? "And you have been here this whole time?" you ask, wondering what the state of the world must be like if he has taken himself out of saving the world for two weeks! Is Sam okay?

Dean's eyes, bright green, lock with yours, cocking his head slightly to the side, with slight confusion at your shock that he was here the whole time. "Of course, where else would I be? I wasn't going to leave you alone here," he says, a matter of fact.

You're about to reply to this, ask more questions, ask how Sam is, but before you can, the doctor enters the room. "Miss. Moore, welcome back," he says, looking at your chart and then at you and Dean. And this must be your brother?" he asks, holding his hand for Dean to shake.

Dean does, letting go of yours, the loss of him, his touch is apparent. "Hey, doc, when can I take my sister home?" Dean asks.

The doctor starts to talk, but you're not listening; your mind drifts to Dean. He put his life on pause for you? Wow, that's something, but you're sure he would do it for Charlie, Jody, Claire, or Alex, right? Yeah, of course. Dean sees you as family, which is what you are to him; that's what you will always be. Yes, you were close. He and Sam saved you from the vampire nest, explained everything about their world, and gave you a purpose.

You feel a slight pressure in your chest. Now that you're awake, how long will he stay before he leaves again?

"So I will get the nurse to start the discharge paperwork, and you guys should be out of there in a few hours," the doctor says. Giving you a smile.

Not hearing anything but that, you just smile back and look towards the window. You hear Dean thank the doctor, and he leaves the room. "nice guy," Dean says, filling up the silence.

"Yeah," you reply. You’re not sure what you are feeling; it's almost like a weight on your chest, pressure. Maybe it is COVID; it will be better once you get home. It has to, right?

******

You didn't know Dean could fuss over you more if he tried. He insisted that he be the one to wheel you out of the hospital, only after he made sure the car was pulled up as close to the door as possible so you didn't have to walk too far. Then, when he pulled into your driveway, he insisted he carry you the short walk to the front door.

"No, Dean, I can walk. My legs aren't broken; I had COVID, that's all." you quip back as he comes over to your side of the car to pick you up.

"The doctor said you shouldn’t over-exaggerate yourself, that's all," he replies, trying again to wrap his arms around your waist and pick you up from standing against the closed car door.

You block his hands again. As much as you would like his arms around you, have him cradle you; where is this coming from? You also don't want him to hurt himself, or God forbid the neighbors see him carrying you bridle style. "Yeah, walking the three feet to my front door is not going to kill me." This comment is like a punch in the gut for Dean; it's written on his face. Shit, was my COVID scare that much of an effect on him? But why? Trying to write your wrong, you try to play it off. "Come on, man, I have been on my back for two weeks and must move a little bit." You quip back. Playfully pushing him aside and walking towards the door.

You get to the door but realize you don't have your keys, you didn't have those, or your phone when you were brought into the hospital. You wait for Dean to come up behind you. He doesn't say anything, pulling out his keys; he opens the door and lets you walk in first. You shuck off your jacket and shoes and go to the living room. Sitting on the couch, you try to hide the sigh of exhaustions that you feel from the small activities you just did; but it slips past your lips and is not lost on Dean.

"Want me to make you some tea? You hungry?" Dean asks.

"No, I want you to tell me what's happened since I was in the hospital. Did all the evil in the world decide to take a break while I was out, and that's how you got to have some time off?" you question, motioning him to sit next to you on the couch.

Dean shrugs at this, "No. I just told Sam I was taking myself off the board, is all." he says casually.

"Taking yourself off the board? Hum, I didn't know you guys could do that," you ask, Giving him an intuitive look.

Dean is giving you nothing back, shaking his head, looking around the room, and clapping his hands together. He points towards the kitchen, "I am going to make that tea for you." He walks away before you can stop him, leaving you to your thoughts. Something else is happening, and you know who to call to get the truth out.

******

Making that call seem more complicated than usual since Dean didn't leave your side for anything. Three days, three days of hovering and mothering you, and as much as you care for Dean, and possibly secretly loved him. Let's face it, those chest tightening pains at the hospital, the loss of his touch was not COVID symptoms, it was your heart telling you what you already knew. You were in love with Dean Winchester, and the fact that he dropped everything for you made your head spin and feel like the most important girl in the world. But you are a realist, and Dean Winchester is out of your league. He sees you as the little sister he got settled with, not the girl he wants to kiss and do other things with.

On top of that, you are sure his opinions of you drop a few points since you found out really quick that to pass the time while he waited for you to wake up, he decided to clean your house from top to bottom. The sheer embarrassment when you found out had you want the couch to swallow you up right there. "Excuse me, you did what?" you ask, thinking you didn't hear him right when you ask; the following day, a book you usually had on your coffee table was now on the bookshelf that it was never on.

"I did some cleaning while you were…" Dean says, not finishing that statement while he grabs the few dishes off the coffee table and heads towards the kitchen. He never finishes that statement. Whenever he says it, he never says 'when you were in the hospital' or 'when you were sick.' After three days of the hanging statement, you get frustrated over that.

But knowing he cleaned your house, how clean is clean? Did he do your laundry? Yep! Did he clean under your bed and put stuff away on your nightstand? God forbid he did a deep clean in your closet—oh, the embarrassment. "Why?" you ask, now following him, waiting for an answer that you sure won't come.

Dean has his back to you, rinsing off the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. "What? It's not a big deal. I had time, plus the nurse thought it was a good idea for you to come home to a clean hose." He says while wiping down the counter.

You try your best to breathe and calm down. Yes, all that is true, a clean house to come home too make sense. But having him go through your personal and private things, fuck, him cleaning your underwear. He will never look at you as desirable again, not like he did before. You look up from the floor to see him watching you, waiting for a reply. "thanks, I guess," you say, defeated. "I am going to go take a shower." You say, needing just a few minutes by yourself, shake off this feeling of rejection you know he doesn't realize he caused.

"You need some help?" he asks, approaching you and walking a step behind you.

You take a second, knowing again that he just wants to help, but God treats you like an old woman. Because you know that his offer of 'helping you out' in the shower does not imply sexy times; it's he saying he thinks you are weak and that you're going to get tired, fall, and hurt yourself. You get to the bathroom door. "No, I got it, thanks," you say, opening the door and shutting it before he can say anything.

*****

Dean POV

I know I am being overprotective, maybe even going overboard with not letting her do anything, and perhaps the deep clean was an overreach. But in my defense, I thought I could lose her, and if she was going to, no, when she was going to come home, I wanted it to be in a clean, COVID-free house.

I turn away from the bathroom door and walk towards the living room. I start to clean up, picking up the discarded blanket from my makeshift bed; even though she has a spare room, it's on the second floor away from her, and I want to be close in case she needs me in the night.

The rigging of my phone pulls me from my thoughts of her. Picking up, I see it's Sam. "Hey, what's up?" I ask, dropping the blanket and myself onto the couch.

"Just checking in, how's Y/N?"

"Good, still low energy, but I am just happy she’s walking and talking, even if I am annoying her."

"You, annoying her, I can't believe it," Sam says, with fake shock. "You know she can take care of herself; she has been doing that for some time now." Sam reminds me. Knowing that my hovering is coming for a place of love for Y/N, but it could be doing more damage than good.

"I know, it's just…" I pause briefly, looking back to see the closed bathroom door. "Sam, she just looked so helpless there lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to those machines…and there was nothing I could do…nothing that could save her…I just had to wait."

Sam knows that's not my strong suit, "I know, I get it, but maybe just ease off a little. I am sure it's making her feel like a burden, you doing everything for her."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I will try."

"I know I am." He clears his throat and paused briefly before asking what he knew I would not want to answer: "So when are you heading back to the bunker?"

I pause momentarily; the idea of leaving you hadn't crossed his mind. "Umm…" Hearing the door open, he looks to see you walking out of the bathroom and down the hallway to your room, wrapped in your navy-blue plaid robe, hair slightly damp from the shower. "Not sure yet, but I will keep you posted. I got to go." I say quickly, hanging up the phone. I know that she can take care of herself, but at the same time, I don't want to leave her again; what if I do and something happens, and there is no one here to save her again. Sam's right, though; I have to back off, or I am liable to smother her.

*****

Y/N POV (about a week later)

Something seems to have changed in Dean in the last few days. It was like the old carefree Dean was back. He hovered less, not watching my every move, and even went on a quick day trip to the bunker to pick up more books for me to read since I had read everything in my place twice, and if I was going to be stuck inside I wanted to do something productive. Granted, I had to ride shotgun on this trip, so although we got out of the house, I was still under his protective eye. But he wasn't babying me anymore; he cracked jokes, smiled, and even complained when I made him watch the same movie repeatedly.

Dean was going on a food run, and this was one outing he didn't let me go on. Too many people, could possibly get sick again, so he didn't want to risk it. But he also hated doing it, leaving you alone. "You're sure you're going to be fine," he asks again, standing in the doorway, you on the other side, trying your best not to push him out and lock the door.

"Yes, Dean, you'll be gone for an hour. I think I can survive." you quip, pushing him playfully, "Go, I promise, no running around the house with scissors or jumping on the bed. I will keep my butt on the couch until you get back."

Dean's worried face slightly softens, knowing that you will be fine, but that pit in his stomach—the thought of him walking out that door again and not having you in his sight—will never go away. "Okay, but call me if you feel off," he reminds you again.

"Yes, now go." You reply with a smile. Yes, he was getting on your nerves slightly, but you still loved the guy for it.

You watch as he pulls out of the driveway and down the road before you head inside. Walking to your room, you find your cell phone charging, and you quickly make the call you've been waiting to make since you got home.

He picked up on the second ring: "Y/N, everything alright? Dean texted me to say he was going on a food run. Do you need him? Are you not feeling well?…" Sam blurts out, a lengthy, run-on statement that has you slightly spinning.

Trying your best not to laugh at him. "Sam, calm down; I am good. I just wanted to talk to my friend. How are you?" you ask, wanting to ease into this discussion. Plus, you really did want to know how he was doing; ever since you came home, you only talked to Sam when Dean would call him and have him on speakerphone. Even then, Sam was instructed not to speak about cases he was working on. Dean had a theory that possibly COVID was stress-induced, but you know it wasn't.

"I am good, making my way back to the bunker. I have a case in Wisconsin, so I'm in your area. I was thinking of seeing you guys once it's done."

"Oh yes, please do, Sam. It's been ages since we've hung out together. I feel like a movie marathon is needed."

"Yeah, if you're up for it. Dean tells me you get tired easily. Is anything else not the same?"

"Umm…brain fog for sure; I lost all memory of the week before I went into the hospital. Some things don't taste the same. But honestly, Sam, can we not talk about me for a bit. Tell me about the case in Wisconsin; what are you hunting this time." You inquire, done talking about yourself, need a distraction, and avoid asking Sam what you want to know.

Sam, being the best friend, a girl could ask for, knew that a distraction from your symptoms was what you needed, and although it would be breaking his promise to Dean, he could hear it in your voice, the need for some kind of normalcy, at least what normal is considered for us. Giving you all the details, you can come to the same conclusion that it was a vengeful spirit and a simple salt and burn job is in order.

Once Sam is done talking about Wisconsin, a lull in the conversation forms, and you look at the clock to see Dean should be home soon. "Sam, can I ask you something?" You feel slightly nervous and try to figure out how to phrase your question.

"Of course, you can ask me anything."

Taking a breath, you wait a second before asking, "How was Dean when he found out I was sick? He said he 'took himself off the board' and has been hovering since I got home. He's gotten better, but those first few days, it was like he was a different person."

Sam can tell by the last statement that you're trying to bring some levity to an otherwise heavy question, a question that he is surprised you have to ask. taking a breath, he thinks about how to say, ‘You idiot, he loves you! and you love him!'

"I am glad to hear that he's lost up the reins a bit," giving a chuckle, "but honestly, Y/N, he was devastated. I know he's my big brother, and he tries his best to hide his emotions, but I could tell that night when he called to tell me what happened, he was scared. Scared that he was going to lose you, scared that he might have caused this to happen to you."

"How could he have caused COVID? I mean, I get he sometimes can have a big ego, but, come on, he can't cause an infection."

"No, but he thinks he has been asking too much of you, wearing you down. I can't say whether he's right or wrong. You and I know you occasionally burn the candle at both ends."

"Yeah, I am trying to get better at that. But Sam, he was treating me like I was 90 years old. He wouldn't let me do a thing around here. And did he tell you he cleaned my house—my whole house—before I got home? I mean everything."

"Oh man, I am sure you were not happy to hear about that."

"Your damn right. I wasn't."

"Look, it's not my place to say, but I will tell you this, remember that night when you and I got a little tipsy, and you might have let slip your feelings for a certain green eye hunter?"

Fuck, of course, he remembers that night; that was right after you had helped him and Dean take down a wraith, and Dean was out on a beer run. "Yeah, you asked me why I never seem to be dating anyone, and I said I can't be with the one guy I want, so why be with the wrong guy at all."

Sam waits for you to connect the dots, and although you're not sitting in front of him, Sam has a feeling you're making the connections: "Let's just say Dean has the same idea, and he has his eye on a hazel eye researcher that he thinks he can't have."

You're about to protest Sam's statement that Dean has no feelings for you other than sibling love, but before you can, you hear the front door open and Dean yelling, "Honey, I am home," sweetly.

"I've Got to go, Sam. Talk soon," you say, and hang up before he can reply.

*********

Sam's words kept rolling around in your mind all night, distracting you from Dean. During dinner, you were quiet, letting him lead the conversation and not making it known when he mentioned Sam might be stopping by in a day or two that you two had talked earlier. "Oh, okay, sounds good." you responded, still thinking, 'He has his eye on a hazel-eye researcher that he thinks he can't have.'

Dean went for girls that were the complete opposite of you, blonde, curves in all the right places without an ounce of fat to be seen, the girl that guys walk across fire for, not the girl that they run into fire to get away from. Not the girl who is socially awkward around strangers, who can put her foot in her mouth easier than anyone, and who has more of a backstory than is worth mentioning. No, Dean goes for simple, noncomplex girls, which makes sense, given his life is entirely of danger and complexity. Why go for a girl to add to it.

Dean can tell your mind is elsewhere, and he is slightly worried that you're lost in your head or that this might be another symptom. "Hey, space cadet, you with me? Because if you're not watching the movie, I will gladly turn it to something we haven't seen twice this week," he jokes, hoping to make fun of the situation.

His voice shakes you from your thoughts, and you look over at him; his eyes have just a hint of worry to them. The blanket across both of you, him in a simple white t-shirt and sleep bottoms, you in gray leggings, tank top, and open cardigan. Perfection, you and Dean cozy up on the couch, not a care in the world, him teasing you about your love of disaster movies, and you forcing him to watch the same one repeatedly, and he does; why? Because he loves you. He loves you like a sister, a friend, someone he cares for, just not someone he’s IN love with.

"yeah, sorry, I think I am just going to go to bed." You shake off that last statement: he's not IN love with you. God, you really know how to cut yourself deep, don't you? Getting up from the couch, you grab your water glass and head towards your room.

Dean gets up with you, "here, let me help you," he says, walking around the couch and placing a hand on your lower back.

This is the last straw, the final statement of his wanting to help you, again treating you like you're helpless. "Stop! Just stop!" you yell, feeling yourself boil with rage you knew you had been keeping at bay. You know his hovering is with the best intentions, but for you, it's blurring the lines between what you want from him and what you know he can give you. Your mind won't let it be accurate even after what Sam told you today.

Dean stops his hands from touching you, standing still like he is frozen in time. "Y/N, hey, I just want to help. You look tired, is all." His voice is soft and sweet.

He’s trying to placate you, like he would a child or grandparent, "Dean, I am fine; I can walk ten feet to my room on my own and not get lost or fall down, okay!" You lock eyes with him and see his face fall, and in that moment, you know that he's hurt; you've only ever yelled at him when you were injured and need him to find you. But that was screaming for him, not at him. You know that you should feel bad for your outburst, you do, but you know that this is not real, that this ideal version of him and you playing house can't last.

"What is wrong? Is this another symptom? Did something happen while I was out?" he asks, wanting to understand your sudden change since this morning. You start walking away from him, wanting to get into your room and away from him, knowing he will get the truth out of you. You don't want to hear his excuses or him placate you even more about why he and you will never be a thing.

You turn halfway down the hall to look back at him, standing there watching you. "No! It's not! I am a capable woman who can take care of herself. Stop treating me like I am dying, Dean! You saved me once; that should be enough for you." Turning back, you reach your door, hand on the handle to open it, when you hear Dean.

"What does that mean?" Dean questions, his footsteps pad against the hardwood floors, standing right behind you; you can feel his breath on your neck, "I know you are capable; you are the strongest woman I know." his voice low, sending shivers down your body, you feel his hand on your arm, turning you around to face him. He sees your tear-stain cheek, "Fuck, Y/N, talk to me; what is going on? Why would you say saving you once was enough?"

Your eyes, trying and failing to hold back the tears, are now on the brink of spilling out. He needs to just let you go. You lean back against the door, knowing he took that little movement as exhaustion, and you are. You are exhausted by talking about this repeatedly, tired that he just can't let you leave, won't give up, and will go back to seeing you only when he needs something. He needs to go back to his life and let you put him back into the box of things that you don't let yourself have. Taking a breath, you run your hands over your face, wiping the tears and pushing them back inside. Putting on your brave face, "You know, Sam will be here in two days. I think you should go back with him. Go back to the bunker, and 'put yourself back on the board.'"

Throwing his line back at him, telling him he needed to return to work and that you would be fine without him. Will you, though? In time, maybe? You turned the door handle and stepped into the room, never breaking your eye contact with him. He shut the door in his face and flipped the lock, not giving him a chance to speak, knowing that he would not force his way in.

To be continued

#supernatural #fanfic #fanfiction #dean winchester #writing prompt #fandom #supernatural fanfiction #dean fan fiction #dean x curvy!reader #dean x chubby reader #dean x reader angst #dean x y/n #dean winchester angst

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circle-with-me · 11 months ago

Text

‘tis the damn season - part 2

Pairing: Will Ramos x OFC (Genevieve/Viv/Vivvy)

Content Warning: 18+ MINORS DNI, angst, hurt - no comfort, brief mentions of child abuse, panic attacks, mentions of death/dying, brief mentions of violence/threats of violence, Will Ramos is stubborn as hell.

Word Count: 3.3k

Taglist: @concretenoah @deathblacksmoke @midnight-eternals @bngurngheart @malice-ov-mercy @witchyweeb34 @lyschko666 @cookiesupplier @lilrubles @meekahy

If you would like to be added to my tag list for this series or my other work, please click here.

Author’s note: There’s a lot more Will in this part and I promise there will be even more in future parts. Also, this one is probably going to hurt because it hurt me while I wrote it. Soooo…. Sorry 😬 Enjoy 😊

Will’s POV

The snow crunches beneath Will’s feet as he heads towards the cafe. That morning, he woke up with a sore throat and decided he’d grab some hot tea before practice that morning. He couldn’t afford to lose his voice now. Lorna was going on tour next month and they had a lot of kinks to work out with their set.

Leaving the cafe, Will heads in the direction of the warehouse. Traffic in front of the cafe was absurd. He could walk down the opposite way to a slower intersection, cut across and then walk back up. The only problem was that it would take him past the park.

He avoided the park as much as he could

“Man, it’s been eight years. Get over it.” he says out loud to himself.

As he walks past the park, he sees the gazebo. There was a light dusting of snow on the roof and the stairs. Christmas garlands were attached to each railing. Icicle lights were hanging from the top railings and Christmas wreaths were adorning each post.

It looked like something out of a Christmas card.

Will walks up the steps and stands in the middle of the structure. He couldn’t remember the last time he had come here. It looked the same but had a fresh coat of paint. A moment of panic sets in as he sets his tea down and steps onto the railing. Hoisting himself up he stands on his tiptoes to look into the rafters.

The entirety of the area had been painted white. Fuck, where is it? He couldn’t see it. It had been forever but he knew it was on this side. He couldn’t see it. His heart sank. It was gone. He started to lower himself down but something caught his eye off to the side. A faint etching into the wood that he would have missed if he hadn’t turned just so.

“W <3’s V 4eva”

Will let out the breath he was holding; a sharp pain shooting through his chest. It was a pain he hadn’t felt in a long time. The feeling struck him so hard it made his knees weak and he had to hold on to the post next to him to keep from falling off the railing.

It should have been a meaningless little thing. He had made that mark when he was a teenager, barely sixteen. Thirteen years later and he can still remember every moment of that day. How she smelled of cinnamon and cherries. The way her dark red hair fell in waves and would get tangled in the buttons of her coat. How red her nose and cheeks got from the cold. Her green eyes sparkling as she looked at the Christmas lights.

God dammit, he hated this time of year.

Will arrives at the warehouse to see Moke and Austin standing outside.

“Get here when you can, brother.” Moke exclaims, grinning.

“Fuck are you talking about, dude? I’m early as always.” Will responds.

“Practice was supposed to start 20 minutes ago, dumbass.” Austin pipes in.

Will checks his phone and he in fact was not early at all. His detour took a little longer than he thought. He looks up sheepishly and both guys burst out laughing.

“Sorry, guys.”

Adam slaps him on the back. “Don’t worry about it, man. Adam and Andrew are inside arguing about guitar stuff.”

“That’s why we’re out here.” Moke adds. “If I had to hear them fight like an old married couple for one more second I was going to shove Archey’s drumsticks in my ears.”

Will laughs loudly as they dramatically act out the guitarists argument.

Initially, he doesn’t see the woman with long dark red hair pass by but he notices her stop suddenly. For a split second he figures that she’s lost but then it hits him. The scent of cinnamon and cherries.

The scent is all-consuming. It fills his nostrils and in a millisecond seven years of memories flash before his eyes. She turns around slowly, making eye contact with him and he’s sure he’s fucking dreaming because it can’t be her.

“Shit.” he hears her say and that’s her voice. How is she here? Why is she here? After all this time..

He calls after her and she doesn’t stop. In fact, she picks up her pace. So, he takes off after her.

“Will! Where the fuck are you going?” Austin yells at his friend as he takes off running but it was no use. Will was on a mission.

Will continues to call after her and she refuses to stop. He feels dizzy, nauseated, and desperate because if he can just get a hand on her. Just touch her so he can know she’s real and he’s not crazy.

“Goddammit, Genevieve, stop!” Finally catching up with her, he grabs her by the arm and spins her around to face him.

They stare at each other for what seems like an eternity. He wonders what’s going through her mind. He can’t seem to gather his thoughts because he’s still trying to grasp onto the fact that she’s actually here in front of him.

Somehow, she was even more beautiful than the last time he saw her.

The last time he saw her.

Will recalls the moment she left and the shooting pain in his chest returns. Anger rushes through him and without thinking, his grip on her arm tightens. Tears begin to form in the corner of her eyes and she shifts uncomfortably. Realization settles in and he lets go, internally chastising himself. It doesn’t matter how long she’s been gone. He knows better.

He glances at her again and even though the tears are still there he can tell she’s not panicking anymore. Her tears are for an entirely different reason. The moment is so overwhelming he can nearly feel his own forming but being the stubborn man that he is, he blinks them away. Will is not going to give her the satisfaction of thinking she still has that much of an effect on him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” she states matter-of-factly.

Will laughs humorlessly. “Seriously? After all these years, that’s all I get?”

Gen narrows her eyes and folds her arms across her chest.

“Right, because ‘what the fuck are you doing here?’ is so much better?”

“I think I have every right to be frustrated, Viv.”

“Don’t call me that.” she says firmly.

Will raises his eyebrows. “And what exactly am I supposed to call you?”

“If it’s all the same to you, Will, I’d prefer it if we just didn’t interact at all. I’m only here because I wasn’t given a choice and I plan to leave as soon as possible.”

A mixture of anger and desperation rises in him again. He wasn’t expecting her to jump into his arms but he didn’t think she’d blow him off like this. He needed something. More than this. He didn’t know how she could just pretend like this moment meant nothing to her when it meant everything to him.

Would he actually admit to that, though? Of course not.

He laughs and shakes his head. “Always in such a hurry to leave. Of course, I'm not surprised. It’s your favorite thing to do.”

This time, Gen laughs, but it’s the coldest laugh Will has ever heard. She steps closer to him and their faces are so close they are almost touching. Her perfume fills his nostrils again and he wishes he could start their conversation over. Tell her he was sorry for everything and kiss her breathless but it was too late. He ruined everything, once again.

All because of his goddamn pride.

“As much as I would love to stand here all day and rehash old wounds, Ramos, I have better things to do. Like bury my piece of shit father, for starters.”

Will doesn’t even get a chance to speak before she’s walking away from him. She never looks back at him for a moment but he watches her until her figure disappears.

Gen’s POV

Gen walks until the tears falling down her face begin to burn and her lungs start to hurt from the cold air. She was two blocks from the lawyer’s office but she couldn’t move anymore. She stops and sits on a bench in front of a random store in an attempt to collect herself.

She scrubs her shaking hands over her face and tries to control her breathing. She’s barely been back home for a few hours and she already ran into him. She hated being from such a small town.

“Always in such a hurry to leave… it’s your favorite thing to do.”

Will’s voice echoes on repeat in her mind until her head begins to pound. He knows damn well why I left. Gen thinks to herself. Who the fuck is he to throw that in my face?

Through the years she must have rehearsed their first conversation upon reuniting a hundred times. It was never something she expected to actually happen, but she was always preparing for shit like that. She knew it would be overwhelming and emotional but when she imagined it, she always handled it in a calm and practical manner.

Clearly, it’s much different when the person who broke your heart is standing right in front of you. It didn’t stop her from regretting the way she reacted. The way he grabbed her and the emotional whiplash from their sudden reunion had her adrenaline pumping. Agitation and being defensive were her go-to responses.

Gen knew that he didn’t intend to grab her like that. He knew better. It was embarrassing that it still affected her the way that it did.

Gen sighs shakily and checks her phone. She had five minutes to be at Mr. Shaw’s office. Her pity party would have to wait until later.

“Ms. Castillo, I’m Nathan Shaw. Thank you so much for coming in on such short notice.” The man extends his hand to Gen and she accepts it. He was younger than she expected, late thirties at the oldest. His dirty blonde hair was slicked back and his eyes were a piercing blue. When he flashes a smile at her, she concludes that feature alone wins a lot of his cases.

“It’s Taylor, actually. I told your secretary that on the phone yesterday. Anna, I believe?”

He glances down at the paper. “Oh, yes! She’s written it right here. My apologies, Ms. Taylor. Or is it Mrs?”

Gen has to bite back a laugh. “No, sir. It’s definitely still Ms.” She holds up her left hand to show him her bare ring finger.

Mr. Shaw smiles softly. “Very good, Ms. Taylor.”

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “If you don’t mind. How did you find me? My father and I haven’t spoken in years.”

“He had your phone number and address listed for us to call in the event of his death.”

Gen pauses for a moment, unsure how she feels that he actually had her address this whole time. “It’s just that… I changed my name and my contact information years ago, so that he couldn’t find me. I just don’t understand how he even had that information to give to you.”

Mr. Shaw looks at her over his glasses, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. He flips back to the front page of the packet in front of him and turns it around to where Gen can look at it. She scoots up to the end of her chair to get a better look as he points to a particular paragraph.

I, Gabriel Fernando Castillo, am a widower. I was married to Margaret Anaïs Taylor Castillo on September 13, 1993, who died on August 9, 2007. We had one child, Genevieve Gabriela Castillo, who was born on August 11, 1994.

Genevieve Gabriela Castillo. Her eyes read the one line over and over again. God, she despises that name.

“What are you showing me this for, Mr. Shaw?” she asks, pointedly.

An amused look spreads across his face. “Ms. Taylor, with all due respect, if you wanted to change your name so your father couldn’t find you.” He pauses for a moment, considering his next statement carefully. “Your mother’s maiden name maybe wasn’t the best choice.”

Three hours, one panic attack, and a lot of kleenex later, Gen’s appointment with Nathan Shaw was finished.

Gabriel left her everything. His house. His car. An oddly large sum of money that was left in his bank accounts that she didn’t dare question its origin. Before she changed her name and number for good, he had called her relentlessly asking for money. No doubt having drunk it all up.

According to Mr. Shaw, that was what killed him. His liver failed and he chose to waste away at home instead of in the hospital waiting for an organ transplant. Mr. Shaw warned her that the house wasn’t in the best shape since he spent the last several months bedridden and would rarely let anyone in. He assured her, however, that “the mess” from his death had been cleaned up so she wouldn’t have to worry about that.

Oh, right. If it wasn’t enough for her to inherit her childhood home that held enough traumatic memories for a lifetime, it’s now potentially haunted by the ghost of her father? Nope. Nothing to worry about at all. She didn’t even believe in ghosts, but if anyone would come back to haunt her, that fucker would.

Considering her options, she decided to sell the house and the car. They were of no use to her. The money in Gabriel’s accounts would go towards whatever repairs were needed to make the house sellable and the rest she’d donate to charity.

Gen didn’t need him or his money. Dead or not she sure as hell wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of thinking she did.

So, now, it would appear that her whirlwind trip home would be much longer than anticipated. The realization of which caused her panic attack. Mr. Shaw’s sweet secretary, Anna, came rushing in his office with kleenex and water to help. Once she calmed down, Gen told Anna whatever Mr. Shaw was paying her wasn’t enough. Anna just smiled sweetly and headed back to her desk.

Another hour and a half later, the funeral arrangements had been made. The visitation would be Sunday at noon with the funeral immediately afterwards. A four hour affair where Gen would have to smile and pretend to care as people she hadn’t seen in years told her how wonderful her father was and how they can’t believe she’s been gone so long.

She felt nauseous already.

She took a deep breath, cracking her neck and massaging her jaw in an attempt to ease the tension from the day. She was in desperate need of food and a shower. She decided to head to her hotel, order takeout, and call it a night. She couldn’t bring herself to go to Gabriel’s house tonight. She would go tomorrow when she was rested and her head was clear.

As Gen laid in bed, she reflected on her day. Now that it was over, it all felt like a fever dream. She thought of Will’s face. The way it shifted from frustration to guilt when she told him why she was there. She had called him Ramos. She only called him that when she was mad and he hated it. She knew that, though, and said it on purpose.

She did it for the exact same reason he took a jab at her for leaving. There’s an ache in her. An ache caused by all the years of pain from her mother dying, her father drinking to cope with the loss and the abuse that followed afterwards. Will became her escape. He was always there to protect and comfort her.

One night, Will nearly beat her father unconscious after he had broken Gen’s ribs again for not cleaning the dishes the way he liked them. He was only seventeen at the time. Gabriel was an asshole, but he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t going to put himself at risk of an investigation, so he didn’t say anything. After that night, the physical abuse stopped but the psychological abuse became worse. Will promised Gen that as soon as she turned eighteen, he was moving her in with him.

The day of her eighteenth birthday, Will moved her into his apartment. He had saved for months and managed to get one just a few weeks before her birthday. It was small and they barely had any furniture, but she didn’t care. Gabriel tracked her down and tried causing a scene but Will told him if he came near her or touched her again he’d make sure he didn’t wake up that time.

Gen was finally able to heal. She felt safe and secure at home for the first time in five years. They were both working and making enough to pay their bills with a little extra. She started college. For once, everything was going well.

The only problem was that she hated Westwood. It was too small for her and despite the memories she made with Will, it was filled with too many bad ones. She wanted out. She had a degree and had developed a strong skill set in music as an audio technician at the small recording studio she worked at and wanted to pursue a career as a recording engineer.

The owner of the studio had connections all over the country and was able to get her a job in New York. Gen was ecstatic and ran home to Will to tell him the good news. He had been supportive of her dream and told her he’d go anywhere for her.

However, when she told him it was finally happening, his face dropped. A silence fell between them that she had never experienced in all of the years they had been together. He stood from his seat on the couch, looked at her firmly, and told her no.

No? What did he mean “no”?

He meant no. She wasn’t going. He wasn’t going. They weren’t going.

Will’s reason was that she could do the same job in New Jersey that she could in New York. She argued that, while true, New York would give her a lot more opportunities to work with different artists and producers. Not to mention a lot more money.

He continued to refuse. Telling Gen it was a waste of time and attempting to educate her on how expensive New York is but it just came out as condescending. She explained how much extra she would be making and it may be hard at first but it would be worth it in the end.

When that didn’t work, he tried to explain that he had finally become comfortable with his band and didn’t want to mess that up by leaving. He also mentioned his family was in Westwood and they couldn’t just abandon them. She called him selfish and pointed out that New York was less than two hours by train. Not across the fucking country.

Gen was distraught and confused. Where was this coming from? This was not the Will she had known for so long. He had never tried to hold her back or tell her she couldn’t do anything. If she didn’t know any better, he almost seemed desperate to keep her in Westwood with him. But why?

After hours of arguing, he became silent again. He stood in front of the glass door that led out to their patio and just stared into the darkness. After what seemed like forever, he raked his hand through his curls and exhaled harshly like he had to prepare himself for what he was about to say.

“I love you, Vivvy… but you’re not going to make it in New York. You’re good at what you do but they’ll eat you alive up there. You’re not going and that’s final.”

Part Three

#will ramos #lorna shore #will ramos x ofc #will ramos fanfic #will ramos fic #will ramos fanfiction #lorna shore fanfic #lorna shore fic #lorna shore fanfiction #will ramos x reader #tis the damn season #ttds

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geraltofriviacollection · 2 years ago

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Paring: Geralt × Reader

Summary: Reader is thrown into the Witcher's world. Will she survive? This takes place in the second season .Eventual smut may come about. (Not for a while but will let you know😉)

A/N: This is the second part in a series. Slow burn. I have not edited or proofread. Please do not repost, translate or copy my work with out permission. Please leave comments! Also @purplegardenwhispers sorry this took so long but I wrote this just for you. That being said tell me if you like it 😬

Chapter One

Masterlist

Chapter Two

I feel warm. I must be back in my bed. Back? Giggle. It must have all be a night mare. I move my arms to stretch and pain erupts from my side. I open my eyes instantly. I look around. I am not in my bed. I’m in ….well I don’t know where the fuck I am I feel the panic begin to rise in my chest and my mouth opens to scream.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” I look over and see Geralt. Well at least I know where I am again.

“If I want to scream because I got fucking shot and saw a fucking monster rip though a man I should be able to scream if I fucking want! Don’t you think?!” I yell. Geralt narrows he eyes at me then sighs before handing me a cup of water.

“Who are you and How do you know my name?” He ask me. I look from the ceiling back over to him. I see the otherworldly golden eyes looking back at me.

“I’m Y/N. You are from a video-” I try to tell him as a massive throbbing starts in my head. The frown on his face deepensas I whimper. “It’s difficult to say.” I explain rubbing at my temples as the pain starts to fade away.

He stares at me and then leans back and crosses his arms. “Hmm” he says. It’s hard to look away from him. I struggle to sit up. And wince at the pain in my side. “I wouldn’t move too much, I haven't had to stitch someone up in a long while.” He says.

“I need to know exactly where we are.” Demanding him to tell me. He just squints his eyes and looks at me. Just then the door opens and Ciri, who can only be Ciri, walks in the door.

“Geral-“ She starts but then looks at me. A look of recognition stretches across her soft face. She turns to me, wrapping her arms around me as best she can in this position. I place a hand on her. “I know you.” She says. Geralt looks at Ciri with confusion and concern written on her face. The shock must be written across my face at her words.“I’ve seen you in some of my dreams. I’m-”

“Ciri, yes I know.“ I say interrupting her. I stroke her hair. Something clicks into place inside of me and begins to build when she pulls back.In that moment I feel as I am exactly where I should be and it shocks me to my core. She steps back sheepishly. I blink a few times before bringing my hands to my face, rubbing my eyes. When I move my hands from my face Geralt has his sword at my throat. Ciri makes a distressing sound and tries to tell Geralt to stop.

“Ciri not now.” Geralt interrupts his eyes, never leaving mine. “Answer my question.”

“I’m not from here…. I '' I stop. How do I even begin to explain that last night aI fell asleep on my couch watching Seinfeld and now here I am in the middle of what will be an epic shit show.

“What do you mean you are not from around here? Are you from Nilfgaard?” Ciri questions stepping towards me. Geralt ushers her back with his hand.

“She means she is not from our world.”

“How…”

“Explain to me then how you know our names.” Geralt demands

“Where I’m from you-“ Something blocks the words from coming out. “You and Ciri are-“ The words seem to be sucked out of my mouth. A second after my attempts I feel white hot pain lick through my body. Worse than the throbbing in my head. My whole body is still frozen in pain.

“Something is preventing you from saying anything isn’t ?” Geralt says moving his sword. I try once more before the pain radiates more intensely throughout my body. I fell the air sucked from my lungs. The rising panic and pain begins to overwhelm me. Slowly it starts to decrease and breathing becomes easier.

“Okay okay so I can’t tell you where I’m from. I can’t tell you how I got here either, that's because I don’t know.” I sigh in frustration.

“She’s coming with us right Geralt?” Ciri asks as if I am not in the room.

“First I am right here. Second, not to sound needy or anything but I would prefer to stick with you guys. All the shit going happening right now is very concerning.” Smiling at the both of them trying not freak out at the thought of being left behind.

“It’s not safe if you come with us.” Geralt says with the ever present frown on his face. I look to Ciri and almost see the pleading on her face. Geralt looks to Ciri before sighing. “Fine, but I will kill you if you try anything stupid.Ciri, ask Nevillen for some proper clothes for her.” At the sound of his name I jerk up stupidly forgetting about my wounds. The thing building in me grows heavier at that new. Ciri pauses at my movement. I smile at her she smiles back briefly before leaving the room.

I look back to geralt. “We need to leave.” The desperate tone in my voice has geralt frowning again. “You feel something is off here don’t you?” Geralt leans back, shock flickers so fast across his face I barely recognize it. “You don’t want to admit it, fine. We need to leave now all the same.”

“Why?”

“Something-“ The headache starts. “I can’t tell you. You don’t know me. I know you don’t trust easily but at this moment I need you to believe me when I say we should leave.”

“Ciri will be back with clothes for you. I would suggest you bathe while you have the chance.” He says and leaves the room.

“Wait!” I call out and he turns to me. “Thank you for saving my life.” I offer a smile that is returned with a grunt and slight nod of his head.

His evasive grumpiness is going to get old very fast. I huff looking around the old house seeing the holes in the ceiling. Knowing the danger lurking does nothing to easy my anxiety about being here. When the door to the room opens I jump in fright.

“It’s only me.” Ciri breathes out a small laugh. “I brought you clothes. Nevillen has prepaired a bath for you through that door. Do you need help getting there?” She ask with as small smile.

“Yes, please.” I tell her smiling back at her. Ciri come around the bed and helps left me up with a groan coming from my lips. She places a gentle hand around my waist and gides me to the bath. Looking at the warm bathtub with steam rising and bubble has me sighing until I remember that getting in will be painful. Ciri helps me balance on the edge of the tub and holds me as i swing one leg over the other. I sink into the warmth. I pull my nightgown over my head as ciri turns and I drop it with a wet plop to the floor.

“I know you won’t harm us.” Ciri says as she turns and takes a seat on the small stool nex to the bath.

“What do you mean?” I ask, rubbing the dirt from my face.

“The moments I have seen you in my dreams. You were always protecting me like geralt does.” I look at her in shock. “I’m sorry I did mean to overwhelm you.” She looks down at her hands.

“Ciri, what you said doesn’t overwhelm me. Knowing you trust me makes it easier for me to keep you safe if I can.” I place a hand on her arm. She smiles at me again and helps me wash my hair. Eventually We manage to get me out of the tub dried off and into a dress that is warm and unsurprisingly fits perfectly. The issue is taming the wild main of wet curls. Ciri opening a jar and starts running some type of cream though my hair and I manage to braid it in to something acceptable. Ciri loops an arm around my waist and helps me to the dining room. Where Nevillen and Geralt waited for us. Nevillen stands at our entrance.

“Thank you so much for this. My other clothes were ready to run away by themselves.” She says walking to take a seat on one side while I site opposite of her in front of the fire. I give Nevillen my thanks less enthusiastically as Ciri.

When we have taken our seats Nevillen conjures food for us that falls from mid air and smacks the table with a loud thud. Creating messes across the table. I begin eating as the conversation around me continues. I try not to stare at Nevillen, he reminds me of the beast from beauty and the beast. Definitely not as attractive.

“Tell me, fair maiden, how you managed to be traveling with this lot.” Nevillen says, turning his attention to me.

“Well I was about to be raped and sold as a slave.” I stare directly into Nevillen’s eyes as I say that. I see a flash of guilt roll across his face. I continue on. “Until a spider-like monster killed the men who wanted to sell me, Geralt showed up and killed the monster, and saved my life.” I peek at Geralt and find his eyes on me quite intently. “Which pretty much sums up my first day here.” I laugh. The awkward tense moment is broken as Nevillen begins to tell the story of how he met geralt. He’s quite entertaining. I could find myself liking him if only I didn’t know what he had done.

The conversations turns, when geralt when geralt ask about his curse. Nevillen pause for a moment and launches into his tale about desiccating the temple.

“This priestess cursed me to live like this. Forever alone.” Geralt grunts at this before replying.

“All curses have cures. What did she say?” He ask.

“She screamed something about love and blood. I don’t remember. I’ll be honest. I have tried to end it, more than once. But I kept coming back.That priestess won’t let me off so easy.” He finishes.

“Surely something that tragic would be burned into your memory. Are you sure that is all that she said? I doubt a priestess would curse you to live forever alone for simply trashing the temple.” I push him a slight edge entering my voice. I wince slightly as I feel a sliver of pain through my head as a warning for me to shut my mouth. I stare at him again. Out of the corner of my eyes I see Geralt's eye practically burning in my direction.

“As I said , I don't remember much.” He says looking at me before breaking eye contact. He knows I know he’s lying. About what specifically he’s not sure. I can tell by the slight wrinkle in his head.

We move to the sitting room. I sit across from ciri letting her teal me how to play the board game between us. Geralt mentions the village being abandoned asking what happened. Ciri and I both pause the game to listen. Nevillen gives almost believable explanations as to why there is not a person in sight down there. Going on about the wild hunt. Saying he’s seen them moving across the sky. Ciri joins the conversation as i sit back and make brief eye contact with geralt before his attention returns the conversation.

The conversation halts as Ciri ask about Nevillen having a cat. Nevillen reassures her that the cat is fine. I feel the anger at his lies as my stomach seems to coil into tight knots. I try to keep my face expressionless. He goes on to tell us he’s glad of her company calling her vereena. I see the poker face on Geralt as he questions Nevillen about his curse. Ciri joining in as well. I see Nevillen quickly change the subject.

Geralt ask about scouting the house. Assuring our safety. Ciri reassures him that we will be fine. He looks at me and I give him a small nod telling him I will keep Ciri safe before walking out. Nevillen the breaks out a moving lamp and begins telling us about the fall of the elders. I simply observe the conversation until Ciri beings to talk about Mousesack. The regret of not being able to save everyone.

I feel an ache in my heart I have not felt fully in a long while. “Ciri, there is nothing that could have been done. I know that will not stop that ache in your chest. All of them loved you so much they gave everything to keep you safe. You must love them by continuing on uninhibited by guilt.” I say softly. Tears well in her eyes at my word and I stoke a hand down her hair in comfort. I feel Nevillen’s eyes on us.

The conversation turns to loneliness, something we all seem to share even if I don't express it. I hear the guilt in his voice and a war begins inside of me. He offers to show us to our rooms and when I try to stand I find that I am physically unable to move. I curse at this as they both turn to look at me.

“I will stay here for awhile ,you go on to bed.” I smile. I desperately try to move to get to Ciri. Eventually my head begins to throb this time I can feel the blood dripping down my nose as I fight against whatever this is. My energy drains quickly and I. I sit there awhile staring into the flames of the fire trying to figure out my roll in this fucked up renesance fair at seemed to be trapped in. I take a deep breath knowing Ciri will be safe but I’m here and that could change the course of things .Ciri insists that I am here to help her. That still doesn’t explain how I got her or when I will be able to go back home.

Feeling stiff I try to stand again and nothing holds me back . I stand and begin to explore the house. The first room I walk into is a rather nice sized library. I huff out a laugh at the sight. Feelin the beast and the monster vibe instead of beauty. I grab one book and find I understand the strange symbols on the page,even though I know it's not of my world. I dive in the tail in the book about the beginning of mages when I hear thwack against the wall. I close the book and set it to the side walking down the hall hearing the voices of Nevillen and Geralt.

“-start with the obvious. How in the name of all that is sacred, How did you find yourself looking after a young girl?” Nivillen questions.

I promised her grandmother before she died.” He says.

“And the rather fetching young maiden?” Nevillen ask.

“I’m not sure. That is yet to be seen.” Geralt says. I hear another thwack and Nevillen laugh asking Geralt what his plan is.

“Keep Ciri alive. Figure out what to do with Y/N.” Well I can’t say I’m surprised at that. However little does he know I will not be going anywhere without Ciri. Her dreams of me makes me think I could be here to help her somehow. This strange connection between the two us might explain some things. If I can keep her safe maybe I will be able to go back home. I return back to the conversation between the two of them. I hear Nevillen questioning geralt claiming a child surprise asking him what made him change.

“Who….Yennifer of Vengerberg.

“And where is this rarest and fairest of all maidens?The one who could crack an icy Witchers heart?” Nivillen laughs.

“She’s dead.” Geralt says. The lightest bit of sadness bleeding through.

“I’m sorry, my boy. How long ago?” He ask. Sorrow more openly lacing his tone.

“A few days.”

“How are you not heart broken?”

“Who says I'm not?” Geralt answers back. I feel my own heart breaking as I thought of my parents death for the second time since coming here. They have been gone almost 17 years and listening to geralt's words makes it feel like it happened yesterday. I wipe the tears I didn’t know that I had off of my face. I turn and start walking down the hall to the room I’m sharing with ciri. I hear the chittering in the ceiling. I look up already knowing what’s up there. I see her peak an eye in a hole looking at me.

“I know what you are, Vereena.” I call out looking at her. Cringing as the light throb. She pulls herself from the whole climbing down the wall like something in the grunge. My heart starts beating faster as she gets closer.

“I know what you are. You are like the child but different. Is she your daughter?” She ask me. Her voice echoing in my head.

“No, she is not. She is someone I care for though. I don’t want to see her hurt.” I tell her.

“I have no intentions of hurting the child.” She says her head twitching from side to side.

“Good intentions often lead to bad actions.” I tell her. The weight inside gets heavier.

“Will you tell the monster killer about me?” She turns her head to the right waiting for me to answer.

“No.” I whisper. Desperately wishing I could.

“Then I will not hurt her.” She says with finality and begins crawling back up the wall and in to the hole she came from. I sigh, questioning how I’m supposed to help when I can not warn a single person about anything. Even knowing what happens next is completely out of my control. I walk in to see Ciri's face soften in her sleep. I smile before getting into the bed next to her. Even after being awake for a few hours I feel drained so much so the second my head hits the pillow I'm out like a light.

#geralt fanfic #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #witcher netflix #geralt x you #geralt and ciri

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starliteradio · 1 month ago

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Sparktober bingo prompts: "hit them harder!", "make it stop!"

Kind of cheating since this was started a few months ago but quickly abandoned however upon rereading, I decided I hated this less than I remembered. I've always wanted to attempt a Long Goodbye fic. There are many things I'd probably change here and I should figure out how to end it better (sorry it's a bit abrupt 🙃) but I figured it would be fine for tumblr bingo.

(10/7: well shit I wasn't finished editing and didn't mean to post this just now but tumblr randomly did instead of saving the draft for some reason...formatting on here is a pain so I'll just leave it 😬)

Tw: violence, blood, psychological angst, abusive relationship

Elizabeth leans in with distant eyes, hands clasping Sheppard’s neck and drawing him close - closer - staccato breathing stopped with her mouth hot upon his, her fingers curling into him as something triumphant explodes in the pit of her stomach.

“Mine,” something hisses poisonously within, as she breaks apart and feels her mouth curve into a smirk, while somewhere distant she screams within a mind no longer her own.

She wrenches awake, gasping above the fading crack of gunfire. Pain floods her within several long seconds.

“‘morning,” floats a casual drawl, as though from miles away.

Blinking watering eyes, she turns her head stiffly. John's in a bed next to her. He doesn't look at her.

“How long - ?” Her head pounds dully.

“Left in the middle of the night. Kicking and screaming.”

Something shocks her brain. She squeezes her eyes against the apparent flash of light, forcing down a sudden fury at his dispassionate tone. He could look at her, at least.

Everything hurts, her muscles sore and stretched beyond their limits. Her left knee, the bad one, is assaulted every few minutes with a stabbing pain. Her mind is a black and foggy wasteland.

As she slowly remembers, her stomach roils and she swallows back the bile rising into her throat.

John doesn't look her way.

Elizabeth feels a light breeze walking through the halls, whispers gathering strength around her.

She meets no one's eyes.

In the conference room, she sits in the darkest corner possible. Words wash over her…damage control…alien device protocols…trust…

“I should've shut this down from the beginning.” Caldwell’s voice is almost self-directed.

She burns with shame but somewhere, deeper, an anger also simmers.

They'll never trust you again.

She's not entirely sure it's her own voice, softly mocking. The bile rises again.

“You can't blame yourself,” Teyla says in the corner of the hall, golden light haloing her hair. Her voice is soft, a sadness in her eyes. “There's no way you could've known.”

Elizabeth bites back an acid tongue, trying to soften her response. “And that's why I should've never approached that pod. We couldn't have known.”

“Elizabeth - “ Teyla starts.

John passes them, all three quickly averting their eyes. When Elizabeth glances back at Teyla she suddenly seems awkward. Elizabeth’s face starts to burn.

Within, she swears she can hear ghostly laughter.

Images flash into her mind, even outside of dreams. A bombed out shell of a civilization, jets tearing apart the cloudless sky and glinting in a white sun. She feels dizzy, white light flooding her vision as she falls towards a barren land, barbed wire spread unruly like underbrush.

Always, over and over, she sees him…feels herself draw closer, and she can't tear herself away, can't bear to even as the kiss turns to poison.

When she finds herself staring back into cold black eyes, and wants to rip out his throat.

“No.” Her voice wavers as she recoils in cold morning light, her vision blurring and Phoebus laughing coldly.

She shoves herself up and into the bathroom, furiously scrubbing her face with ice cold water and tossing more into her mouth to chase four useless ibuprofen tabs. Her knee still pangs.

She catches her own eyes in the mirror, and in the shaft of sunlight they appear cold, colorless.

She grits her teeth and suppresses a scream.

Why me? Why him…?

She doesn't want to think about it too much.

Squaring her shoulders, she swipes an impatient hand over the door sensor and faces another day.

“Maybe…” John's voice is more hesitant than she's ever heard. “...we should talk about this.”

Elizabeth looks up too quickly, trying to mask the surprise she knows is written all over her face. She feels her body tense.

“About…?” she begins, not trying to be flippant - just trying to grasp at words.

But she catches a glint in his eye that sends a chill down her spine. “Damnit, Elizabeth, you know damn well…”

“It's been two weeks,” she clips him off, fighting a rising ire that unnerves her. "It was an appalling failure of judgement that will never happen again." Her voice is bitter, self-directed.

“I'm not talking about…” He breaks off with the slightest scoff, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here but reluctantly determinedly. “...mitigating future threats. I'm talking about…us.” He gestures a bit desperately between them.

Her heart thuds and seems to stand still. She's suddenly very aware of how they're alone in the deserted corridor outside the conference room, earlier than anyone else cares to rise.

Her hands twitch as she sees herself push him up against that wall and kiss him senseless, all tongue and scraping teeth and hands ripping at his fly as she takes what she needs, his blood metallic on her tongue…

Elizabeth winces.

…her hands suddenly in his hair, twisting, tearing, slamming his skull back…

…the floor quaking beneath her in bone-shattering turbulence as her stomach swoops and they pitch from the sky, his ravaged jet spewing black smoke…

“I…can't,” she stammers in panic, fighting a sudden urge to vomit. “Not now.”

In her quarters, the room seems to spin, coppery blood still assaulting her nose and gravelled shouting in her head. "Hit ‘em harder!” screams a voice on a knife's edge of sanity, before there's a roar and fire in her eyes through a windscreen, the swoop of Phoebus and Thalan falling to earth, the cold smirk pulling at her lips as she watches Thalan (John) through grainy security footage as she coolly threatens to annihilate them all.

She hangs over the toilet where she emptied the meager contents of her stomach, glassy eyed, sick in the knowledge that she's no longer in control.

“I don't think…she's gone,” she finally confesses in desperation.

Kate nods soberly. “Your body and mind were hijacked. To say that's a traumatic experience would be an understatement…”

“I don't know if he's gone either,” Elizabeth overrides her, her expression distant as she remembers the chilling light in John's eyes.

She crashes awake again, still aching in an entirely different place -

…John's hands grasping her bare skin as she lifts above him and comes down hard, capturing his lips in that same burning kiss…

…harder and harder…

She curls in on herself, fighting a scream of anguish as the scene goes all wrong, again -

…cold eyes, bruises rising where he'd threatened to kill her for real this time - bone-shattering turbulence as they fall…

“What do you want?” she grits out, but only the soft hiss of the ocean answers.

She lets Phoebus in.

To her mild disgust, she can't help but empathize with the woman, her entire life hard and violent and in service to military and country. She wonders if Phoebus ever dreamed of a quiet life, if she was even capable of imagining such a thing.

She wonders, yet again, why Phoebus chose her as a host - disturbed that she was apparently so easily corruptible, that Phoebus could've sensed it. Taken her curiosity and empathy and turned it against her.

Or what Phoebus saw in John that reminded her of Thalan.

With echoes of their violent, traitorous relationship in her head, she sees little resemblance to her relationship with John, save for intensity of emotion.

Unbidden, she remembers their blistering kiss, and for once, it's not Thalan’s eyes staring back.

Perhaps Phoebus perceived something deeper than Elizabeth realized. Or at least, tried to bury deep into the recesss of her subconscious.

Unnerved, she slips out into the night.

He's there, standing alone on the south pier. She can practically feel the nervous tension shivering through him, sees the way his eyes spark as he becomes aware of her quiet approach.

But the fire lasts mere seconds before it's gone, black eyes shifted to melancholy hazel.

And she knows it's John again, and she stares back as Elizabeth, so it's just the two of them and their exhaustion and pain - at least she's sure the hiss in her mind is from the distant waters and not the ghost in her head...

She swallows hard. Then steps closer, and tentatively takes his hand.

"I'm ready to talk."

#i tend to struggle with episode tag fic as i feel like i just end up with a subpar ripoff of what everyone else has done #but ehhhh i tried #sparktober #john x elizabeth

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porcelainmortal · 4 months ago

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🩵 Magic & Bea and Henry please cause I'm a sucker for siblings being cuties 🥹

Thank you for the ask, @tailsbeth! I am sorry to say that this got really emo and a bit dark, but I think it's hopeful overall. (I, too, love a good sibling relationship but I also can't relate, so... this is where it went. 😬)

I am throwing in some trigger warnings, so please check them below - they are also in the tags. I hope you enjoy!

TW/CW: death, necromancy, grief

The spell was Bea’s idea. Henry didn’t believe in this kind of stuff, despite magic being part of their everyday lives. It might be common practice to conjure cream for your tea or a bone for your dog, but anything much more complicated was, generally speaking, frowned upon. And incredibly unreliable.

So Bea insisting that a necromancer spell could bring their dad back from the dead was outside the realm of reality as Henry understood it. Not to mention the high prices to be paid in order to conduct such magic. He tried to stop her – tried to tell her it was time wasted and might cost a hefty sum from the Law of Three – but she insisted it was the only way to restore their family.

“Think about it, Hen – we come from a long line of witches, one of the most powerful families in the realm – if we can’t do it, who can?”

Henry had reluctantly agreed but insisted that they needed Philip and possibly their mother to help, too. Unfortunately, neither of them were on board.

“Stop playing with magic and start trying to make something real out of your lives,” Philip had sniffed derisively.

Their mother was lost in her grief and didn’t seem to understand what they were even asking, and so, Henry and Bea were on their own.

Henry gathered the herbs and checked the skies to time the spell for optimal cosmic assistance while Bea planned out the spell and mixed the potions. They went into the graveyard when the moon was at its fullest and began chanting, casting their brew and poultice over the earth around their father’s headstone.

When they finished, everything went eerily still; the animals in the trees quieted, the wind died, even the earth seemed to stop breathing under their feet. And there, at a distance of about 30 feet, stood their father. Well… what their father might look like if all the colour had been drained from his form. His ghostly white figure walked silently towards them, his feet neglecting to leave so much as an indent on the soft earth below them.

“My children,” he began. His voice was the same except for the way it sounded like he was speaking through a long tunnel. All the hair on Henry’s body stood on end. “I know that you’re trying to revive me.”

“We miss you, father,” Bea cried. Henry’s arm wrapped around her as tears sprung into his own eyes.

“And I miss you, my love. More than you can ever know. But this… is not for me. I am not meant to come back.”

“Why not?” Henry asked, his voice cracking unsteadily.

“I am no longer of this plane. I am beyond this life and I am at peace. You must understand that my body gave out when it was meant to. You no longer need me.”

“That’s not true,” Henry argued stubbornly. “We’ll always need you, Dad.”

“You’ll always miss me. But you have everything you need to make your own lives. Henry, you have so much light inside you and the right person is going to come along and help you see that. Beatrice, you have so much talent and ferocity; you must share that with the world and allow everyone to rejoice in it.”

“What about mum?” Bea asked, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Ah,” Arthur sighed. “Your mother struggles. She searches for me here, even though I am with her and always shall be. One day, she will give up her search and be at peace in the land of the living. When that day comes, you two must be ready. Be there for her. Give her all the love you have set aside for me, she needs it more than ever. You have so much life left to live and although you will miss me, I promise that you do not need me. I have given you all that I can. You have each other; let that be enough.”

And with that, Arthur started to fade from view.

“Wait, Father!” Henry cried out, reaching for him. Bea trembled in his arms, reaching out as well.

“Remember me but do not let my absence hold you back. Go and live,” their father said, his voice fading into nothing more than a distant echo as he disappeared from view.

Henry held Bea in his arms as they sank to the ground and sobbed. He knew that the road ahead would be rocky and difficult, but he knew, now more than ever, that as long as he and Bea had each other, they could get through anything. Together.

#ficlet friday #trigger warning #content warning #tw grief #tw death #tw necromancy #rwrb fanfic #firstprince ficlet #pride flag ficlet #magical ficlet

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kruemel8 · 9 months ago

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I have been following the white party-hallway-lake discussion and am curious what you think about it? I don't really think that Simon and Wille make out in the hallway after the party to then put their white party outfits back on and go to the lake? I think they go from the white party directly to the lake, only getting a blanket maybe to talk. I think the hallway scene is another day. What do you think?

I’m not so sure these three scenes are connected at all. We have the white party and Simon is wearing a white button down shirt.

At least I think so because we are all very sure it was shot on this day. (I think Simon’s hair looks the same too with that curl above his ear 🔎)

No buttons to be seen in the hallway scene. So I think he is wearing his school uniform shirt.

In the lake scene we see Wille’s burrito blanket and as @inthisdarktime pointed out Wille is lying on what looks like a white dinner jacket.

We have seen a white dinner jacket in this scene.

Yep, instead of clearing things up it gets more confusing. I’m sorry. 😬💜

#ask #yr s3 spoilers

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sarah-sandwich-writes · 1 year ago

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Ooh if you're still taking prompts I'm submitting one for Parkner (can't wait for the last chapter of a peach like you btw!) I liked the idea of a combo of #8 and #46 or just #28 because werewolves!

Heeelllloooooo dear darling anon. Do you remember me? Do you still read parkner? You sent this prompt in April of 2022 and Congratulations!! I'm finally filling it over a year later 😬 sorryyy

These prompts are from this prompt list. I was tempted by 28.) werewolf au. both of them are werewolves, which was surprising bc I've been exhausted on werewolves (and vampires) for a while now, but I thought it would be fun if it was human Ned's POV scrambling to keep Peter's big hairy secret from their new roommate, Harley, that they found on craiglist, only to come home one day after months of scrambling to cover claw marks and sweep up tufts of fur to find not one but two werewolves sacked out on the couch, one blond and one brunet, and realize he'd been cleaning up after both of them and they need to have a serious conversation once they're all on two legs again.

BUT I decided not to go that route because a combo of 8 and 46 was just too alluring.

8.) every single kiss so far has been a disaster but it’s really funny + 46.) don’t have a one night stand with your coworker on the spaceship

Is your memory refreshed dear anon? Is this at all familiar? Regardless! I wrote the thing and per the norm I took it too far so here's a snippet of the beginning and a link to ao3 where you can read the other 8k assuming you still read parkner 🫠

adventures with hair dye and feelings — In Space!

or 5 times Harley and Peter don’t kiss + 1 time they do (in space!)

A light breeze stirs the early morning fog that crowds the Avengers compound and whites out the world to none but their research team of four. Tony, their self-appointed leader, clears his throat and looks down his nose at them. Since he’s the shortest this is only possible thanks to the incline of the spaceship’s docking ramp and his position at the head of it.

He pitches his voice to carry. “Before we embark on this scientific expedition I’m going to lay down some very strict rules.”

On Peter’s right, Bruce shifts and huffs impatiently.

“Hey, this is serious, Jolly Green. Listen up.” Tony holds up five fingers. “Rule number five, anybody that messes with my music gets thrown out the airlock, no exceptions.”

On Peter’s left, Harley snorts.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you, Johnny Cash. Mitts off or you’re as good as freeze dried and vacuum sealed. Rule number four, no fragrances. That means no body spray, no candles, and no air fresheners. If I catch so much as a whiff of an artificial scent, I’ll make the owner eat it. Rule number three…”

He begins to pace across the width of the ramp.

“No sticky business. Sorry kid but we’re not chancing a heart attack in space because you get the itch to pace the ceiling and scare poor Brucie into thinking he's in Alien. Which brings us to rule number two, don’t set off the green rage monster.”

“Tony—,”

“That one’s for me,” he says over Bruce. “I can be fair and include myself in the rules.” He stops pacing and looms over them. “The last rule is the most important so I need your undivided attention. Are you listening?”

He looks unmistakably from Peter to Harley then back to Peter. Peter nods.

“Get on with it, old man.” Harley shifts his one allotted bag higher on his shoulder. “Some of us would like to breach atmo before the heat death of the universe.”

Tony eyeballs him but doesn’t rise to his bait like he usually does. His gaze shifts and Peter finds himself drawing up to his full height under his unlaughing stare.

“Rule number one, do not have a one-night stand with your coworker on the spaceship.”

A sliver of Peter’s soul slaws off and dies.

Keep reading on ao3

#parkner #sswrites #harley keener #peter parker #parley #writing prompt #fair warning i was listening to ugly side by the wrecks while i was writing this and it shows #i know sooooooo much about palmistry now you guys lmao #would you believe there are 2 more of these sitting in my inbox? from the same prompt list? sent to me in April 2022?#if i was normal i'd bang out 300 words for each and move on #unfortunately im a mentally ill overachiever with perfectionist tendencies so i only request prompts once every leap year #and then take 24 months to fill them #sunday posting bc like #whats the point

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shads-shipposts · 5 months ago

Text

"Anachronism" Prologue Rough Draft +LORE✨

Remember how I mentioned that the chapters prior to this would only leave you more confused as to wtf was going on? Well, the prologue is now finished and is being posted.

The background of Anachronism is this: back in 2015 I attempted to rewrite a 2014 RP that included the Tintin sailors (which is my first fanfic ever). True Colors was the name. It was never finished, instead transitioning halfway through into an original fic where the sailors got new names/designs/backstories as they were changed into ocs. The Karaboudjan would become the Caroline, but Scarlett was already a self-insert so her initial character remains (though she's changed quite a bit). Both the original fics and the 2015 are scrubbed from the internet, though I do believe one of you followers actually read that 2014 one when it was on Deviant Art. I am so sorry you had to witness that 😬.

Jump to late 2017-early 2018, the first hints of Anachronism were forming. It wouldn't be until 2019-2020 New Years that I started it in earnest. The story follows myself (yes, I get "isekai'd") as I end up in the same timeline as that 2015 fic. Originally it was the 2014 fic but I really don't want to deal with certain elements of that mess. Anyway, that Anachronism kinda started collecting dust as my Bad Batch hyperfixation hit and Adventures!AU was born. That series takes place after Anachronism, but Anachronism was never posted.

Well, 4+ years, three and a half books, and 500k+ words later I am finally starting to post snippets to curse the world lol. Schedule-wise, Anachronism won't premiere in full until 2029 most likely, as Adventures!AU is still my main project. But I miss the Karaboudjan crew, and my hyperfixation is strong for them rn so I'm posting and working on chapters.

All that to say buckle up, this fic gets wild. Magic elements are minimal in this fic, but they still be there.

Enjoy! :D Feedback is most welcome, I'm still figuring out the characterizations for the fellas as it's been a while since I really wrote heavily with them (Bad Batch has claimed most of my time).

CW: Mild horror elements

1872 words

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“Scared, Allan?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d found himself here after he closed his eyes. It’d been months since the incident that gave rise to the event playing over and over again in his dreams, but time hadn’t dulled any of his emotions concerning the event.

“I must say, your fear scent is… unique. Fishy and tart.”

Confusion, horror, shock, disbelief.

“Don’t worry your little head there. I respect you and, strange as it may seem, I do find the need to fear you.”

Yes, fear there too.

“Funny ain’t it?”

And who wouldn’t be scared?

“An Alphian fearin’ a human.”

When they were faced with an alien of unknown magical abilities?

“Don’t see that every day.”

The scene wobbled and fizzled at the edges, like staring at a reflection on the surface of a stormy sea. The secrets surrounding the scene trapped deep in its depths, unreachable even if one tried their hardest to grasp the answers.

Allan Thompson walked through the scene, removed from his own actions as if he were just on autopilot. He couldn’t change the scene, no more than someone watching a reel on a screen.

He sat at the table, across from the half-human, half animal woman that watched him like a hawk. Dark stripes cut through her skin like thick shadows across a moonlit patch in the woods, a black and white tail flicked behind her, and piercing eyes the color of glaciers scanned him inside and out. She was a head shorter than him, yet power radiated off her like heat from an open flame.

His voice reached his ears, muted and distant.

His own and yet… not, in a way.

“Kid… I’m sorry about Turtle.”

The alien looked up at him, the furry ears on the sides of her head flattened against ginger hair.

“Thanks, man.”

Those cat-like eyes shifted to the side, as if searching for any other threats.

He knew it was a dream. Knew what was about to happen.

It did not ease the churning of his stomach.

“Actually,” she continued, mouth moving but voice coming from the very walls surrounding them. “I kinda wanted to ask you about something related to that.”

Allan knew what was coming. Knew what she was going to ask.

Knew how badly it would go, how swiftly the scene would turn dangerous.

But he was helpless to do anything but follow the script. Follow the events as they unfolded.

Eyes on her hands, waiting to see those thorn sharp claws, Allan again heard his voice from far away.

“Aye?”

He wished he could change course. Wished he could prevent what came next. Perhaps, if he could, then things would be different.

But no.

“Let me go after that short slaver with the dark brown hair. I want his head for orderin’ me to kill Turtle.”

There it was. The request that shattered everything. The request that would leave Allan with gaps in his memory that no amount of pondering or searching could ever fix.

He felt the shock course through his body, felt his spine stiffen and his heart skip a beat.

“I’m sorry…” he heard himself say. “But I can’t allow that.”

Ears shot up, a tail bristled, sharp teeth bared, and anger blazed in those icy eyes.

“What?”

If only he could alter his words. Explain more, explain better.

Save himself.

If only.

“I can’t allow you to kill him.”

He had dreams. He had nightmares.

This hell was something else entirely.

Pupils narrowed to slits across from him, jagged scars streaking down the table as wicked claws dug into the old wood.

“Is that your final answer?”

There was red now, deep in those eyes.

He could only watch, silently scream in his head as he fought with all his might to change the memory.

“Aye, I refuse to let you go after him.”

Futile. The scene would play out as it had many nights before this one.

The woman stood, ears low and tail lashing.

“Whose side are you on, Allan? Huh? The slavers?” A snarl curled her lip, the temperature around them plummeting as ice snaked out from her hands across the table. “How disappointin’.”

The edges of the scene corrupted, bleeding red and black.

He wanted to scream. Wanted to run. Wanted to hide.

Hide from the devastation bearing down on him like a hurricane at sea.

But there was no refuge. No escape.

“There will be another time to kill him.”

He had to witness the event that would alter his fate.

Words came faster now, a distorted echo to them that sent chills down his spine.

“But I heard the other slavers talkin’! He’s goin’ on patrol tonight! I can’t pass up this opportunity to claim revenge for what he did.”

“Look, kid. I said no, and that’s final.”

“Nobody’s gonna stand in my way. Not even you. Stand down now, Allan. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He got up.

Walked over.

“I told you no, kid! That’s an order!”

“Give it up, Allan. I’m doin’ this my way. I’m killin’ him tonight and you can’t stop me. Don’t even try to.”

He got close.

Too close.

It was over fast. She winded him with a headbutt, driving him back into the wall hard enough to knock the breath from him. He didn’t even have a chance to rise to his feet, weight pinning him to the floor. A rag clamped over his mouth and nose, drowning the world in a sickly-sweet haze.

Darkness followed swiftly after, a growl echoing in his ears.

“You brought this on yourself. Sweet dreams.”

And those were the last words he ever heard from Scarlett Hyde.

Allan sat up in his bed with a gasp, cold sweat pouring down his face as he fought for breath.

Was that her now, hiding in the dark corner?

He flicked on the light, fingers struggling to grasp the knob.

Nothing, just his trenchcoat.

It was too hot. Too stifling.

Air.

He needed air!

Staggering to the porthole, he yanked it open and welcomed the sharp chill that rushed in. Allan leaned against the wall, eyes closed as he fought to catch his breath and sooth his racing heart.

After that fight, any and all memory of the Alphian ceased. He couldn’t even recall what happened once he woke up. Because they sure as hell didn’t go from being overrun by slavers to being back at their home port without any sign there was even a hostile force occupying the ship.

Only one man had memories of Scarlett that went past Allan’s; Tom.

His friend and trusty right-hand man. The closest person to Scarlett on the ship prior to her mysterious disappearance.

Allan hoped he could have shed some light on Scarlett. Maybe Scarlett somehow drove off all the slavers after knocking Allan out, accessing some type of beast mode or something. She was an alien, and could shapeshift, so it wasn’t entirely implausible.

But no.

Tom’s last memory of her was Scarlett heading off the ship into the woods. Tom had gone after her, only to find himself face to face with the same slaver Scarlett was after. The slaver attacked him, but Scarlett showed up in some animal form and attacked the slaver. She won the fight but was stabbed in the process. Tom tried dragging her back to the ship after she shifted back to that half-human form, but then his memory too went dark.

That was it. The trail ended. Went cold. With no hope of recovering the fractal memories.

Maybe Scarlett was around longer, and had some alien way of wiping their memories. Why, then, did he have any memory of her at all? If she truly aimed to wipe all memory of her existence, he should have forgotten her in totality.

Instead he was left with only partial memories and no explanation that could even remotely make sense of the event.

Every port they stopped at, every contact he knew, he asked. When Scarlett Hyde rang no bells, he tried the false name she gave at first; Ice Shadow. Still nothing.

He tried her description, her species, her family, everything.

Nothing.

As if neither she nor her species even existed in the first place.

A knock sounded on his door, and Allan turned away from the window to stare at the clock by his bed.

05:00 am.

His port watch wasn’t due for another few hours, so it couldn’t have been someone calling him for that.

“Al?”

Tom. What was he doing up this early?

Passing through his dayroom, Allan opened the door and found Tom looking almost as disheveled as himself. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Tom rubbed his arm. “It… happened again.”

Allan’s eyes widened. “Scarlett.”

Tom nodded.

Allan stood to the side to let him in. “You too, huh?”

Tom straightened, looking slightly more alert as he sat on the couch in Allan’s dayroom. “Same dream?”

“What other dream would it be?” Allan growled.

Tom wasn’t put off by his tone, but then again he never was. “What are the odds, huh?” he said in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood, a weak smile accompanying the joke.

Allan wasn’t amused. “Real funny.” He leaned on the table, pushing his hair back. “This is the fifth time in two weeks,” he growled. “I do not need this. We got that proud peacock prancin’ ‘round like he owns the damn ship, orderin’ us to and fro like damn dogs. I don’t need this headache on top of it.”

“At least the captain ain’t givin’ us any issues.”

“Don’t think that old man would notice if I scuttled the damn ship,” Allan grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Probably not.” Tom tilted his head. “Don’t think the dreams mean anythin’, do ya?”

“Concurrent dreams about an alien that we both know had the power to alter dreams?” Allan said. “It’s fishy.”

“Think she’s comin’ back?”

Allan shrugged tiredly. “Hell, Tom, I don’t know.” He glared in the direction of the door. “At least Sakharine’s finally tracked down the second ship. Then we can be back at sea, and I’ll have other things to keep my mind on.”

“Yeah, can’t wait to have that guy off.” Tom shuddered. “Gives me the creeps.”

“Feelin’s mutual.” Allan stretched. “Guess I may as well get coffee, not like I’m gettin’ any more shuteye today. Want some?”

Tom nodded, stretching too. “Won’t say no.” He shuddered. “Anythin’ to keep awake after that nightmare.”

Allan understood his hesitation with going back to sleep. Tom’s dream was far worse than his, with the man being hunted down in dark woods by a slaver bent on murder. Scarlett’s animal form wasn’t exactly comforting either, Tom describing it as a large tiger-looking beast with saber teeth that was a third again the size of a normal tiger.

“Alright, I’ll be there in a minute. Maybe the cooks have somethin’ already.”

Tom nodded. “I’ll wait outside.”

As Tom left, and Allan headed back to his room, the first mate mumbled under his breath.

“I really hope it was just coincidence.” He punched the door open. “Because I cannot deal with anything else.”

#karaboudjan #tintin 2011 #allan thompson #tom karaboudjan #anachronism fic #my writing

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