#watchoutwriting

[watchoutforthefanfics]

Ticking Love Bomb (Part One) || Eleventh Doctor × gn!Reader

Part 1...

Summary: Your adventure with the Doctor and the Ponds takes a harsh turn when it seems you're targeted with a potion. A love potion, specifically the type where you fall in love with whoever's eyes you met first after "drinking" it. But what if you're already in love with him?

TWS: aliens, space, references of guns, smoke, unrequited love (but not really), self sacrificial attitudes, and purely oblivious people. Also, just a touch of angst (typical of a love confession).

A/N: This is a lil angsty so be ready!!! Enjoy :)

The room was filling with a sort of pink gas, at least it looked pink. Maybe like a salmon color?

The walls were bland, white and tall, and the lights were fluorescent. If you didn't know any better, you would've assumed you were in a hospital of some kind.

"Uh, Doctor… What-" you spoke watching as the gas pooled in around your feet, "What is that?"

He paused, taking a few sniffs, and mumbling to himself before answering, "A potion. They must-"

He stopped, eyebrows drawn in confusion, "Well, they must not know who I am, this won't work on Gallifreyans. It's kind of like that one poison that just makes us sleep for a few centuries but could turn a human to dust-"

"Doctor," you interrupted, hand placed on his shoulder to shake him out of his mind, "-as much as I love a bit of rambling, now's really not the time."

"Right," he corrected, straightening up and glancing around the room (for an escape you assumed), "-I don't see-"

"Hello, my doves," a voice boomed through the room, bouncing off the terribly empty walls, "-having fun yet, are we?"

It was prim and proper, a thick accent in a tone you recognized as 'all-knowing'. She seemed to be readily in control of the situation, and the Doctor… didn't seem to have a clue.

"What is it? What is she filtering in here?"

"Well," he answered, peering at the gas which was now at mid-calf, "-I'm not entirely sure. My best guess is it's a mix of potions, hastily made based on the composition. There's no real proper composure to it, an amateur is the most suspect. Or maybe someone who just wants results?"

"Doctor," you groaned, your fingers starting to swirl the pink around you, "-what is it and how will it affect me?"

"Human, right," he blinked, looking at you solidly for a moment, before turning down to his sonic, watching it buzz, "-I'll see what components are in it and that should-"

He stopped mid-sentence, body frozen and eyebrows furrowed even more, and… was he- was he blushing?

"You must understand now?" The voice continued, tone light with amusement, "The potion was never for you, Doctor; it really was to tear you away from your sidekick. I know how terribly fond you are of them in particular, and thought… this may be the perfect leverage opportunity."

"Doctor, what are they talking about?"

He didn't answer you, just set his eyes on what appeared to be a camera in the corner, "What do you want from me?"

You blinked, ready to argue with the Doctor about just… giving in (the Universe was far more important than you), but something else caught your attention.

It was the smell, god, it smelt just like roses in here. So fresh and beautiful, you could almost smell the morning dew on the thorns. It was so… wonderful.

"Y/N?" he spoke, you knew that voice, you really did, but it just smelt so nice in here. You couldn't help but picture the velvety petals beneath your fingertips, the grass underneath your shoes, the rays of sun on your face.

In an instant, your eyes fluttered shut -finding comfort in the warmth. It was like a warm sunny day on the beach, so nice to just… absorb.

"Y/N, darling-" the voice continued, "-can you hear me?"

And just like that, your brain was doused in, what felt like, a cold bucket of water -the rosy pink glow in your head faded, leaving a bit of paranoia in its wake.

"Alright, Y/N," he explained, calmly, "-listen to me carefully, don't-"

Before he could even finish, your eyes flew open, eyes landing on his green ones -searching for some solace. It was almost an instinct, hearing his voice, you just had to search for him.

"Y/N, wait-" He sputtered, eyes connecting with yours, "-why do you never listen to me? You weren't supposed to-"

He paused, staring at you for a moment (almost analyzing you), you blinked.

"Y/N, are you… are you feeling anything?"

"I, uh," you paused rubbing at your eyes for a second and just having a little check in, "-I don't feel anything different, why? Am I supposed to?"

"Well," he looked at you in wonder, and did that thing where he scrambled for a moment, "-yes."

"What?" The voice boomed again, disbelief coating her tone, "You… Why didn't it work? Doctor, what have you done?"

"I didn't-"

You interrupted, confused, "Wait, what's supposed to be happening to me right now?"

The voice answered, a bit more polite than an assumed antagonist should, "You are supposed to fall in love with whomever you see, it's perfectly disposed in the human genes, I don't-"

You blinked, oh.

"Well, I don't-" you inhaled, trying to calm your internal storm at the fact that the Doctor was looking at you like he just knew, but he couldn't have (could he?), "I feel normal, so…"

"Well, then," she spoke, tone a bit surprised but seemingly knowing, "-let's just hope we don't have any after effects, shall we?"

"What do you-"

The Doctor interrupted, voice stern, "Your potion just didn't work, there are no after effects."

"We shall see, Doctor, we shall see."

And with that… ominous answer, there was a click on the large gray door that had sealed them off before, an unlocking -assumedly.

In an instant, the Doctor grabbed your hand, and pulled you out of the room -where the fumes still lingered. You could smell the hint of roses in the air, and your head started to hurt a little bit from the memory of how strong it once was.

"Hey uh, Doctor?" You asked, slowly following a step behind him through the cavernous hallways, "What did they-"

"Shush," he spun around to you, and without hesitation, put his fingers to your neck (checking a pulse?), "-okay, good. A little fast but, alright so far.

Your face was burning hot and you could barely breathe. Your skin tingling where his fingers once were.

"Doctor, can you please explain what's going on? You act like I'm a ticking time bomb-"

He flinched.

"Wait, am I-" you exhaled shakily, pulling your hand out of his, "-am I on a timer? I can't hurt you, I really can't-"

"Y/N," he spoke, voice soft -a kind of gentle whisper-, "-calm down, okay?"

"I'm not-" you huffed, voice shaking ever-so-slightly, "I can't until you tell me what's going on!"

He exhaled, a deep sigh through his body, and you knew that look in his eyes well, an old man who'd seen worlds crash and burn.

"A lot of people have this idea that putting 2 similar things alike can make a better thing," he began, "-objectively, anyway. Scientifically through, that doesn't work, things clash and spark and burst. Like putting two ends of a magnet close to each other, they repel."

“And, that means?” you asked, tone questioning.

"The person who did this to you, tried to make a, objectively, better potion that was compiled of the same things that 2 other potions had," he continued, hand still locked with yours as you roamed down the hall, "This, being done haphazardly didn't really work."

“So, what, Doctor? What’s-”

“Your-” he started, eyes falling in a huff, “-Your heart is a ticking time bomb.”

#eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #doctor who #gender neutral y/n #a bit angsty but #it fixes itself #is really sad kinda so #unrequited love but not really #use of y/n #enjoy part one #watchoutwriting #ticking love bomb

[watchoutforthefanfics]

Ticking Love Bomb (Part Two) || Eleventh Doctor × gn!Reader

Part 1, 2...

Taglist: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

Summary: Your adventure with the Doctor and the Ponds takes a harsh turn when it seems you're targeted with a potion. A love potion, specifically the type where you fall in love with whoever's eyes you met first after "drinking" it. But what if you're already in love with him?

TWS: aliens, space, references of guns, smoke, unrequited love (but not really), self sacrificial attitudes, and purely oblivious people. Also, just a touch of angst (typical of a love confession).

[[A/N: So I've kind of written a lot of this one already... So, expect a few updates soon. Thanks for reading!!! ]]

It was silent, your heart beating furiously in your chest -and something in you stilled further.

What if it happened now, what if you died here?

You scoffed, in disbelief, “What?”

“They, they crafted something love-related, essentially antagonizing the physical aspects of love, you know? Like, um-” He rambled, voice quieter than it had ever been, “-your heart rate.”

“What so-” you began, a bit in an unbelievable tone, “-my heart can just explode? I breathed in a potion that can just make my heart explode?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” the Doctor continued, moving forward what seemed like endless hallways, “-the potion, if you’d even call it that, slipped into your brain, and that’s where your heart… The brain is the launching point.”

“I…” you hummed, following slowly behind him, “-I can’t control it then, can I?”

“Well, no,” he began, spinning around at the tone of voice- at the defeat, “-but there’s a cure. What, you aren’t- Y/N.”

“Doctor, my heart is going to explode,” you answered, careful and considerate, “I don’t… I don’t think this is the time I play it safe.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he added, a bit astonished and a tone you knew well, sorrowed disbelief.

“Look,” you relented, “-are you even sure of the cure? Really?”

“I-” he stammered out.

“It’s amateur, right?” you spoke, gently, “-That’s below your pay grade. Isn’t it?”

He cleared his throat, a determined look set into his eyes, “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m giving up, and really neither should you.”

“I’m not giving up, Doctor. It’s just-” you exclaimed, “-if it’s between you or me-”

“Stop,” he interrupted, back to you with a tone you knew but had never been the target of, “-just… stop.”

“I can’t, okay?” he added his voice with the slightest bit of a shake, “I won’t. Not you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt it -the spike. It was different, the tingle buzzing up your arms and your heart bumping so heavily in your chest. If you squinted, you could see the fuzz of pink filling in the corners of your vision - leftover potion, probably.

“Okay,” you exhaled, “-I’ll try.”

He hummed, a bit damper than you had seen, but you supposed death could do that to a man. Especially someone who had seen so much.

“I think the sonic is picking up on the Ponds,” he changed the subject, “-best we find them first, maybe they know something we don’t.”

“Right,” you clarified, “Are we brainstorming on the way or? For my…”

“Yes,” the Doctor’s eyebrows flattened, “I’m thinking. I never stop thinking.”

“‘Course you don’t,” you smiled, slowly following him (you trusted him with every fiber of your being). And there it was again, the pink fuzz filling your eyes, just the corners.

You blinked, and it vanished.

“What’s the typical cure?” you asked, mostly out of curiosity, “Like non-amateur.”

“It’s terribly cliche,” he professed, a little bit of a chuckle in his tone, “-whoever loves you has to confess. Or, you have to. To the person, you actually love, not just… not the potion.”

“Wait,” you shook your head, “-I’m the one whose affected how would someone who loved me be involved? Shouldn’t it be-”

“It is,” he cleared his throat, looking oddly uncomfortable, “-it’s kind of a backup option, really. To, uh, get you to see your ‘options’, I suppose.”

“And the difference with mine?”

“Well,” he exhaled, a strong gust of breath, “-yours has a physical emphasis on it, on purpose -assumedly. Your heart is much more sensitive.”

“So…?”

“Let’s say you confess to who you love,” he wasn’t looking at you, and something tinged within you, “-if they don’t reciprocate… Your heart with taking it stronger, a literal heartbreak. You won’t-”

“If they don’t love me back,” you continued, “-I’ll die.”

“Yes.”

“Right so, that’s not an option,” you huffed out, blinking back what hope you had, “-so, we wait for a confession.”

“Why not?” the Doctor asked, genuinely questioning, “Surely if you, Y/N, were in love with someone, they’d love you back. They’d be stupid not too.”

Your head buzzed, and the pink fuzz started again, blurrily along the edges. You could feel your heartrate pick up, genuinely unsettling how fast it was pumping. You almost expected your chest to cartoonishly be pounding out in a comical heart shape.

“Doctor!”

You blinked, and your chest calmed.

Amy rushed to him down a hallway with Rory tightly by her side, their eyes filling with a general sense of relief.

"Amelia-" he let out a breath, scanning over her briefly, partially for assumed injuries. Your heart seemed to not take that lightly, amplified by the curse, you'd assumed.

Rory answered, noticing the familiar trail, "We're unscathed. There was only a voice-"

"She said," Amy exhaled, shaky, "-she said she'd kill you both."

"Right," the Doctor hummed, clearly compensating, "-they all say that though, don't they?"

You chastised, eyes landing on the frazzled redhead (you'd never seen her like this… except without Rory), "Doctor."

"Are you guys okay?" Rory interrupted, taking a moment to look at the two of you, like he could see it on the surface level, "She didn't hurt you two, did she?"

Your eyes fell to your wrist, if you squinted you could almost see your pulse, and Amy's eyes followed them.

"Did she?" She asked, with more intention behind it - a fury you'd become familiar with.

You opened your mouth, but the Doctor found his way to the words quicker, "It's…"

"My heart is cursed," you exhaled, voice wobbly, "- and I… I'm on a timer."

#eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #doctor who #gender neutral y/n #a bit angsty but #it fixes itself #is really sad kinda so #unrequited love but not really #use of y/n #enjoy part one #watchoutwriting #ticking love bomb

[watchoutforthefanfics]

My John || Eleventh Doctor x gn!Reader

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Summary: At the news of an unknown distress call from the Tardis, the Doctor must go undercover. With the trust of thousands of years, he places himself (both watch and being) into your hands. Enter Dr. John Smith (not really a medical doctor just has his doctorate) your new roommate.

Inspired by: The Transmission by @fabulouspotatosister + 'ceilings' - Lizzy McAlpine

[[A/N: This was majorly based on the lyrics: 'But it's not real, and you don't exist'. So angst warning. But it has a happy ending, I swear. ]]

"It won't be long."

You could remember the creases of his face as he said it to you, the smooth of the worry in his brow -just because he didn't want you to see it. Well, you felt it now, the ache of days and nights and the heaviness of the watch in your pocket -you couldn't let go of it or put it out of your sight.

"When the time comes, you'll know."

You'd asked more about that then, about the how and the what and the why, but he waved it all off. 'You're clever,' he spoke, and you couldn't help the flutter in your stomach, '-you'll know.' So, you had prepared yourself to the life you found eerie compared to the previous one. Seeing John was... a domestic look on the Doctor and you weren't sure if it was good or bad for you.

"Honey, I'm home," he loudly announced, sing-songy with a cheer you couldn't quite match.

You exhaled, shook your hands, and stood to your feet, peeking out your bedroom door to where the Doctor... John stood.

He dressed differently now, more casual sometimes with the early morning pajamas. Today, however, he was dressed with a white button up and slacks, familiar, but matched with a long brown coat that had the same vibe as a trench coat but not the same material. And on the tip of his nose sat a pair of glasses, that you'd seen on the Doctor, yes, but rarely.

"Oh, so we have pet names now, dear?" You teased, watching as the tips of his ears began to burn a bright red.

It was natural, whatever banter you'd acquired. It was rather flirty, sure, but natural. You didn't want to think about what that meant too much.

"Dear?" He shriveled up his nose, "-What are we, an old married couple? I'd at least like to be dearest."

You snorted, walking towards the kitchen -which was right across the entry way, where he slipped off his shoes and placed his coat on the hanger. You were surprised by his organization in this light, especially since seeing some of the TARDIS's rooms.

"Okay, John dearest," you spoke, nose upturned as if you were pompous, "-may I ask how your day went? Were the kids okay today?"

He was a librarian at the local school, and sometimes on Saturdays he'd have extra readings for town square -he was quite the hit. With the voices he'd put on and the enthusiasm of the stories he told, the kids were enraptured. They weren't the only one.

"Of course," he grinned, "-haven't I told you, Thursday class kids are the best! Always desperate to learn that lot."

"Right," you carefully mixed the food upon the stove top, it wasn't on anymore but it was still warm enough to heat it up, "-that's the one with Charlotte in it, yeah?"

"Oh, yes, lovely Charlotte," he smiled, "-she'll go places I tell you. Today, she was negotiating an escape plan during recess, had a route down to the times."

You laughed, before siphoning off two servings and continuing, "And the meeting afterward?"

His demeanor dropped, as he pouted with a groan, "Boring, you know I hate to sit still for too long. Plus, George was just spewing nonsense statistics the whole time -didn't grasp onto much."

"Naturally," you hummed, taking a seat across from him as you placed his plate in front of you. You were usually the one to cook, not for... John's lack of trying, but more for the whole apartment's safety.

"What about you?" He countered, eyes attentive on you, it was unusual for you -the Doctor was usually everywhere all at once but John was often just an observer, "How was yours?"

The attention was odd, sometimes, but you'd grown to like it -despite how flustered it could make you. Depending on the day, and if his hair was messy and collar fussed. Luckily, he seemed well-composed today -a perfect picture of John, not the Doctor.

"Boring," you answered, not finding anything of note in your day. It was quiet mostly here, and you couldn't often chance going out without knowing where the Doctor was or if the threat was even still active.

"Oh, come off it," he dragged, his tone playful, "-you can do better than that. Go on, tell me. Anything new?"

You shook your head with a smile, "Not much, I'm just in the early stages now jotting ideas down in whatever form I can. There's not... It's all drafts."

You stayed home, under the illusion of being a writer -waiting for their big break. You did write though, detailing your adventures with well... him. It helped you sometimes when you missed him, and worst case scenario, it reminded you of what you were doing this all for. Because John's familiar soft smile and gleaming eyes were something you knew you could get yourself lost in.

You wished you could keep this version of him somewhere within you (locked away tight, yours), but you could never wish the lack of the Doctor in the world. Or even with you for that matter.

"I imagine it's lovely," he spoke, tone soft and the blush on his cheeks rising high, "-anything you make will be."

And there it was. The suspicious, fond gaze you'd caught from him now. It was happening more often, between the shared hours of the day you and John were domestic -connected personally, even. And you knew it felt that way, with him coming home, and sharing the space so intricately.

Just looking around the kitchen, you could see John just about in every crevice. An apron there (that said kiss the cook), some themed salt and pepper shakers (they were shaped like little animals), and the book he kept by the counter -he often sat there as you cooked, and you well enjoyed the company.

And everywhere else, you'd find him too. Little trinkets on bookshelves he just "couldn't live without", a few snowglobes from different cities (you found he was invested in traveling), and notepads just about everywhere. He always had something new to remember afterall.

"Well, thank you," you hummed, cursing yourself for the flush that went up your own cheeks. This isn't him, and he's not even himself.

How is that fair.

"But," you continued, playfully, "-I doubt you're an unbiased critic."

He made a big dramatic gesture with his hands to himself before speaking in a high-pitched tone, "Me? What? Never."

"John," you hummed, "-you're really not a good liar."

"Not to you," He smiled, his eyes carrying a whimsical shine that made your stomach swirl with familiarity, "You see right through me. I'll have you know, some of my classes think I'm a trainer of wild lions over the summer."

"You remember you teach children, right? They're fairly gullible."

"Pish-posh," he tsked, scooping some of the food into his mouth with a grace you found mostly unknown to the Doctor -other than tactful speeches and addressing an enemy, "-children are rather smart, just don't know how to use it yet."

"Yes, right," you countered, "-and this is an unbiased look, coming from a children's teacher, then?"

He rolled his eyes, a playfulness giving him away on his face, "Alright, you win. I'm shelving this argument for now."

"Just shelving it?"

"Yes," he confirmed, smiling up at you from his plate, and you felt your heart do a little twist in its place, "-anyway, I meant to ask you something."

You pursed your eyebrows at the sudden topic change, but pressed further on, "Yes?"

"Well, there's a-" he fidgetted with his fork, eyes now looking anywhere but you, "-a work thing Saturday. A big party, music and food. It's a celebration for getting halfway through the year, I suppose. Anyway, I just... well-"

"John?" You interrupted, clear, and concise but a touch concerned -had he seen something? Was it time?

"I'd like for you to come," he spit out, quicker than what was previously said but you still caught it (a symptom of the Doctor’s long-winded rants you supposed), "-with me. If you're not... busy."

"John," you hummed, with a grin, "-as if I'm ever too busy for you."

John smiled, the kind of smile the Doctor got when you were 'bloody brilliant' or so he'd put it. It made you feel special, all of your limbs felt like they were fizzing. The difference was now... you hadn't done anything. He looked at you like the stars were merely rocks, just because you'd said you'd go to a work party with him.

The Doctor wouldn't have done that. And that fact made your stomach twist in guilt, this wasn't really him. John wasn't really a person, just a shell of who he was meant to be and you were the only person so close to him.

And here you were, feeling things that you shouldn't with a man who only had you within this world.

Sure, he was giving you signals. Signals that made your head spin because you had always wanted them from that face, but it wasn't him. It's not fair.

"Brilliant," he grinned in response, before taking the two of your plates away with the same enthusiasm. He wouldn't wash them, he never did directly after dinner. Always said he didn't want to waste a moment.

And maybe you didn't want to either.

The next few days were busy for you, more than usual, you'd been trying to trace who had been after him for the past year. It had been a year. You were getting nowhere, mostly because he hadn't told you anything -'he' being the Doctor.

So, you weren't exactly ready when Saturday crawled up on you. John had practically been bouncing off the walls, fidgeting with his tie. He hadn't looked at you once as he navigated the space, grabbing things he'd strewn about -he looked so natural here. Fit here, with you.

It'd been familiar. You missed him.

Every day you did.

The Doctor jumping around the space, eager to tell you about the hills that stars grew on, or the alien race that communicated through smell.

"Isn't it brilliant?" He'd always be grinning so bright it could blind you, and he'd twirl around the controls for good measure. Eyes looking to you for your reaction, beautiful green twinkling with wonder you thought you'd lost when you were six. You had lost when you were six, but he... he brought it back.

"Y/N?" he spoke, well not him... but him, "Everything alright?"

John was in your space, a few steps away -maybe afraid to bridge the gap, he extended a hand. You'd realized then you were crying, the tears silent against your cheeks -you didn't even realize...

"If you're not-" he started, his fingers clenching in the air between the two of you like he'd wanted to touch you but wasn't sure, "If you don't want to go, we can stay."

We, he'd always said something like that -a package deal. Maybe you could live in your delusions for a bit, you could be selfish once.

With a breath, you closed the gap -connecting your hands and intertwining your fingers with his. His hand moved naturally... like it was meant for this... like his hand was meant to be in yours. It was intimate, something about you not being in direct danger and still holding him close.

You were safe, in your apartment; the two of you dressed dashingly, all for a party you were now bound to be late to.

"Wish I could," clearing your throat of the tears, you swung your hand and his between the two of you with the smallest of smiles, "-but my date is pretty handsome, couldn't bare to let him down."

John chuckled, you could still see the smear of concern in the pull of his brows but he could never really help it with you, "Handsome, really? This date seems very lucky then. From where I'm looking-"

You snorted, shaking your head and letting go of his hand -heading towards the apartment door, "We're going to be late, John."

"You started it," he pouted, before spinning around in a circle -eyes darting, "-wait, where's my coat?"

"John, darling," you hummed, pointing to the coat that was draped right across the back of the couch.

"Right, yes," he responded, grabbing it before freezing in place like your words had just now processed, "-did you say... darling?"

"Good observation."

"That's new, isn't it?" he asked, eyes intent on you for a moment -like you were a mystery he couldn't solve, "-I like it."

"Oh hush you," you snickered, not lingering on the slip any longer than you wanted to, "-we are so late."

John grinned bright and you saw him then -adventurous and wonderful, as he approached you -almost giddy, "I wouldn't have it any other way, darling."

The party was fuller than you'd expected, really. It wasn't just in some breakroom with dollar streamers and cupcakes with the kind of icing that stained your mouth. There were lights, music, and it was catered. With a mouthwatering buffet, mind you.

"John," you hush whispered, "-you didn't tell me it was fancy."

"How was I supposed to know?" he whispered back, defensive, "-This is my first one too!"

At that moment, two men walked up -each in a more dashing suit than the other, groomed to the nines. You truly doubted these guys were teachers, but based on the man that stood by your side... maybe it was true.

"Oh my," the taller one, who if you had to guess was the gym teacher spoke, eyes caught on you, "-John, is this the infamous Y/N?"

The other man straightened, eyes landing on yours, "No way!"

"Infamous?" You turned to John with a questioning brow, now this was interesting.

"It's not-"

"I'm Joseph," the taller one extended his hand to shake, before motioning to the man beside him, "-and this is my husband, Elliot."

"Not that I need to tell you," you smiled towards John, "-but I'm Y/N. It's wonderful to meet you."

"Gosh," Joseph began with a teasing smile toward John, who seemed like a branch in the wind, "-I feel like I know you already. John here's told me so much-"

"Alright," John erupted, the tips of his ears burning bright red -avoiding his eyes to yours, "-that's enough."

You added with a smile, playful, "Dearest, I'm not so sure. I'm quite interested in-"

He rolled his eyes, but you could see the quirk on his lips, "Yeah, yeah. You've had your fun. Now dance with me."

"What?"

"You promised me a dance, silly," he reiterated, pulling you away from the two to a space with less people -the music soft and echoing across the space, "-don't you remember?"

You narrowed your eyes, resisting the pull, "I certainly did not."

"Okay, well, then..." he paused, thinking and still holding your hand between the two of you -loosely, "-I'm asking you now. Will you dance with me?"

You stared at him, his face dancing in the lighting of the space and that strand of his hair falling in front of his eyes like it always did -god, you'd gotten used to him. There was an urge to brush it away, to hold his face -his precious, precious face.

Instead, you squeezed his hand, "Of course."

He smiled, and pulled you to the floor -eyes intent and focused, the music was slow, melodic. You assumed it was requested, based on the nature of the tones, didn't feel quite party to you.

"John," you confessed, "-I really don't know how to dance to this."

He laughed to himself, before gently guiding you the rest of the way to floor, "Don't worry, follow my lead."

John moved your hand to his shoulder, placed his hand on your back, and intertwined your free hands together without a second thought. It felt personal, really to be a breath away from him -for his hands to holding you close. Not in a hug, where you couldn't see his eyes.

But now you could.

"See, watch," he hummed, moving to step in a square -you knew this part, "-you're a natural!"

"You're just saying that," you echoed with a smile, unused to the flattery so close. So tantalizingly close that you could feel the breath of it on your lips. This had never happened.

"Y/N," he spoke, hushed, just for you to hear, "-did you ever think... you could... we could, really-"

"Yes?" you asked, eyes caught in his as you desperately tried to not step on his toes.

"Well, if you-" he began, before frowning, "-if you wanted we could maybe-"

A scream interrupted his sentence, loud and brash, and something within you snapped. You tried to get eyes on the obstruction, but the crowds running just dragged your eyes elsewhere. '... you'll know.'

"We know he's here," a voice slithered, yes slithered, through the crowd -the tone, unnatural, "-give him to us. NOW."

"When the time comes, you'll know."

Your eyes darted to John's who were frantically looking to you, almost checking you over, "John, we have to go."

He seemed speechless, "O-Okay."

You'd kept the watch on you, you could hardly leave it out of your sight -so the cold tingle against your side was quite comforting now. The clothes you were wearing didn't have much pocket space, but it had... something, after all.

Where to, you stared out at the intricate hallways, where to?

"WHERE IS HE?!"

There was a door down the way, space looked small, but it would have to work. You didn't have many options.

Pulling him into the space (a janitor's closet by the looks of it), you shut the door behind you two -making sure it wasn't an automatic lock. The darkness was all encompassing before you found the switch as you brushed your fingers along the wall.

"When you said out, I assumed you meant, well-" he spoke, tone shaky and it was moments like this where the difference was stark, "-out."

"John," you spoke, directly looking into his eyes, "-do you trust me?"

"What, yes-" he sputtered out, eyes lost and it would've been cute had you not been in the situation you were.

"Good," you spoke, before sticking your hand into his coat's pocket -the side he never used, and fished out what you were looking for. The sleek metal in your hand was unusual sure, but not... unwelcome, really.

John stared at it, eyes wide and breaths hollowing, "What... is that? I've never even seen that before! Was that in there the whole-"

"John, this is hard to explain," you exhaled, digging into your own pocket to pull out the watch -it was warm in your hands, "-but you are not John Smith."

"What?!"

"This," you pulled his hand over the watch in yours, you could almost feel it react, "-is you."

"Y/N," he echoed, "-I think you hit your head. You're acting-"

"Crazy," you finished, "-I know."

You could almost see the spandrels of gold connecting with his fingertips, twisting through the air to meet his skin. They were small though, delicate, easily cleared if he wanted them to be.

"Your name is the Doctor, you are an alien-"

"An alien?!"

"-the last one of your kind, Timelord," you continued, gently turning the watch to be in his hand, "-and the world needs you."

"This is-" he began, backing away -trying to push the watch back into your hands, "-ridiculous. My name is John Smith, I'm a librarian at Dexington Primary School. I have been for a year-"

"John-" you began -desperate.

"I got my degree, I met you on campus-" his tone was still fond somehow, "-you spilled your coffee on me, and wanted me to apologize-"

"John-" you interrupted, you couldn't hear this. Not now. Not when you were about to lose him.

"And I should've been mad. I should've been, but your smile was brilliant and I couldn't even think straight-"

"John, please." You echoed, tone gentle, soft.

"I thought you were the most beautiful person I'd ever seen," he looked up at you, eyes red and watery, "...How can that not be real?"

"Oh John," you hummed, tears of your own gathering -your hand coming to rest on his cheek, idly tracing the skin there, "-my darling John. It was."

John leaned into your palm, tears floating down his cheeks, and you wiped them away.

"This," you whispered, a bit breathless from the tears of your own and pointed between the two of you, "-was real. I know that."

"Then, why-" he began, eyes fluttering all over your face.

"You're-" you sighed, shakily and hesitant to let him go, "-you're not you, John. Not really."

"I want to be-" he started, reflecting his hand on your face -wiping at your tears, "-I just want to be your John. Why can't I?"

"Because you're the Doctor," you hummed, your heart breaking in your chest, "-and I can't take that away from the world."

He seemed to understand then, looking down at the watch with purpose -trying to see it for it was, you thought. His hands were shaking, and his eyes were heavy with a feeling you'd seen before in them, in the Doctor's eyes.

"I..." he whispered, looking back up into your eyes, "-I love you. Truly, I- I do. You have to know that, before I... Before I go."

"My John," you were crying now, the twist in your chest strong - an ache, a yearning, "-I love you too."

Without a second thought, you pushed forward, placing your other hand on his face -connecting your lips to his. You could be selfish twice, you decided, as you held his precious, precious face between your fingers.

It was bittersweet, the salt of your tears soiling your lips, but you really honestly couldn't change a thing. You wouldn't.

It was an ending you wouldn't forget.

With a breath, you pulled apart but let your fingers stay for a moment -eyes dancing around his face, to remember this. To remember John.

Because this... wasn't the Doctor, no matter how hard you wished it to be. It would be gone so very soon.

"You were lovely," you hummed, brushing his hair back and letting your fingers linger on his skin, "-I'll miss you."

With that, you stepped back.

"I'll miss you too."

He stared at you, green eyes so open, so vulnerable, he was hesitant -toying around with the watch in his fingers. You exhaled, shakily, and nodded.

John smiled, a brief one that you tried to commit to your brain, so fond... so loving. He didn't need to say anything else, so he flicked open the watch, and golden light burst into the room. It was so bright, you had to hide your eyes in the crook of your arm -the warmth biting up against your skin. It felt like a harsher version of the sun, searing across your skin, but it wasn't necessarily hurting.

And then, it stopped.

You looked up from behind your arm, and-

"Bloody hell," he spoke, gruff to himself, as he seemed to try to get something out of his ear, "-that was a rough one."

The joy you felt in your heart was immeasurable, but you still felt quite... broken open, splayed out like a puddle on the floor, and he was not.

He wiped at his eyes, noticing the tears -most likely, "What was I even-"

His eyes caught onto you, the eyes that you had missed -the extra heaviness, the extra wonder, and the infinite knowledge in that brain of his.

He lit up into a smile so bright that warmed you, "Y/N! Thank the stars, you look terrific."

The Doctor leaned forward, brushing a hand through your hair -it was longer now, "How long has it been?"

You paused, "About a year."

"Oh," he hummed, eyes everywhere but your face -thoughts quick and unraveling, "-that was a bit of miscalculation on my part... My bad. I didn’t think-"

His eyes finally landed on you, and he faltered. Moving quickly toward you, his hands unwittingly went to your face, wiping at the tears that had fled there. Your face was no doubt a wreck, sniffling nose and eyes scrubbed red.

"Have you been-" the Doctor paused, speaking softer, "Have you been crying?"

"I..." you began, but couldn't finish it.

"I was crying, too," he continued, "-well, not me but... me. What, so we were crying together that's-"

He fell silent, looking at you again -almost analyzing. There was a gleam, a shine of understanding, and you knew.

"You loved him," he concluded. The silence echoing loud after the words, bouncing around your head like a pinball machine, "-didn't you?"

You couldn't do this now, you really couldn't do this now, "Doctor, now is not the time."

Before he could say another word, you dug the screwdriver out of your pocket -it was shoved there when you... it didn't matter. Not now.

He narrowed his eyes at you, saying something you recognized to be 'we'll talk later', before accepting the tool with a grin, "Right then, duty calls, doesn't it?"

"As always," you quipped. He rewarded you with a grin that send your stomach into knots, one you'd missed so dearly.

The aliens who had come to him were fairly easy to handle, they were a bit too overconfident in their planning. The Doctor had simply slipped right in, and they hadn't been prepared for it. Hardly worth a year.

They underestimated him, you could tell. He was pouting about it. Had been for the last 10 minutes.

"What, they really thought I would fall for that?" He muttered to himself, as you both roamed the area -checking up on the masses, keeping an eye out for any injury that needed to be urgently dealt with.

And then you saw them, the men: Joseph and Elliot. They sat huddled together, comforting each other with what looked like some other teachers -their eyes widened in relief at the sight of the two of you, you assumed.

"Y/N, John!" Joseph exclaimed, the pull of his eyebrows lessening, "Thank god, you two are alright, are you hurt anywhere?"

He briefly scanned the two of you, seeming to come up with nothing, "-good."

"Joseph, right?" The Doctor asked, you knew he retained partial memories, so it made sense, "-Is everyone okay over here?"

"Yeah," Joseph answered, eyes flickering down the line, "-George sprained an ankle, but that seems to be the worst thing so far."

He was confused, you could tell by this new dynamic and the shift in... John. Your weren't sure how to even start in an explanation though, and the Doctor didn't seem too worried so you just waved it off.

"You're..." Elliot began, observing, "... different, John. You sure you okay?"

The Doctor chuckled, "I'm quite alright, never been better really. I'm just... not quite John."

"If I hadn't seen snake people about 10 minutes ago," Joseph responded, "-I'd say that's weird... but now? Do you just... You're not John?"

"No, well yes," the Doctor scrambled, "-John is like a piece of me. Just a part of my whole self, really. I... felt all the things John felt, saw what he saw. It just wasn't fully me."

They nodded, and he took it as means to continue.

"The rest of me was locked away, kind of," he spoke, face trying to track what he'd say, "-does that make sense?"

"The most I've heard today," Joseph quipped, "-which is not very much."

"Well," he grinned -wide and bright, the knowledge of worlds blooming behind his eyes, "-that's all I can ask, really."

"Are you two okay?" You asked, eyeing the two with a sensitive eye.

"Yes," they smiled at you, both of them had such kind eyes, "-we came up unscathed, luckily."

You sighed in relief, "Okay, good."

"Right then," he hummed, eyeing you with an eye you found familiar, questioning concern, "-off we pop, keep in touch, will you?"

"Don't you know it... uh-"

"The Doctor," you clarified, "-world-saving alien."

"Doctor, okay," he laughed -despite looking quite in shock, it was almost just adding to the pile rather than well... being a new type of weird, "-try and stay safe, will you? I may not... know you, but I know John. I rather cared for that bloke."

"We will," you answered, your smile a little bittersweet -you couldn't think about it too much now. Later.

The plan originally had been to go to the Tardis, but this outfit had been one of your best -you wouldn't let it be lost deep in the hallways. You'd already lost at least 3 hoodies in there -limited edition ones, too. And the Doctor was like a lost puppy, so he'd be sure to follow behind.

John had been the same in that sense, showing you things, gravitating towards the same room, and practically pouting for entertainment when you sat still for too long.

The trip up the stairwell was unusually silent, you'd felt odd in the presence of the Doctor and well... silence. It felt like he was always talking, and if by some chance he wasn't, he was everywhere. Big motions filling up a space, he'd almost always have a spotlight shining on him -attention on him anywhere he went.

It was the curse of the companion to fall in love with the wonder, one you knew well.

But this part of the Doctor was rarely there, this part was the kind where he'd stay silent for days -thinking about something in particular. An anniversary of an event, he wouldn't say what; the only way you could tell was he wouldn't be jumping to go elsewhere. He'd stay right there.

You felt that same part here, following you to the apartment that you... that you used to share. Kind of. You weren't quite sure where his memories were, what he remembered about the year (or even the past few hours for that matter).

The door swung open, and the silence only intensified. Large and unmoveable, you were sure how to even approach it. Or if he even wanted you too.

"It's... blurry," he spoke, dusting his fingers along a snowglobe (one of his, technically) -you held back the twinge in your heart. John was everywhere in here.

"What is?" You questioned, absentmindedly playing the ends of one of the coats that hung there -it wasn't yours, but you thought you might keep it.

"The line between me and him," he answered, eyes scattering to different things littering across the space.

Looking at it, it looked very domestic.

The pairs of shoes by the door, the mugs paired by the stove -ready for tea, the pair of pillows decorating the couch -you'd both chosen one. It felt so... stuck together, you could barely breathe.

"There's things I know I..."

"Doctor," you shook your head, swallowing down the lump of tears in your throat -you were grieving... over someone right in front of you, "-you don't have to do this..."

He pursed his lips at you, furrowing his brow, "Do what?"

"This," you motioned to him, holding the snowglobe -close to his chest, "-I know John isn't you. You don't have to... I know."

"Y/N," he began, now placing the trinket back on the shelf, "-what are you talking about?"

"Doctor, it's embarrassing enough as it is."

"What is-" He questioned, roaming closer, "Y/N, you're making no sense."

"Stop," you rolled your eyes, walking further into the room, and of course he only followed you. What were you going to do with all this?

"Look at me," he held your biceps, guiding your eyes to his, "-does it look like I'm lying to you?"

You squinted at his, trying to closely analyze his face -you knew it, his tells, his existence was painted in the skull of your brain. Both Timelord and human now, you supposed.

"No," you decided -still not quite over the lump of emotion in your throat, would you ever be?

"Right then," he cleared his throat awkwardly and let go of your arms, "-good."

This was something starkly different, the Doctor fluttering away from affection so easily -stepping out of the space and not being aware anymore. John... He felt like he was looking at you, always looking at you. Maybe because he had nothing else to look at, but you liked to think it was because he wanted to. You hoped he did.

"Stop-" the Doctor interjected, the silence of the room breaking like glass -harsh and loud, "Stop thinking so loud."

You rolled your eyes, not wishing to deal with this side of him now -not when you felt like you were digging a grave for someone standing right in front of you. It was odd, the twisted feeling of watching what you knew to be the Doctor around the room. (The only real difference being the godforsaken bowtie. He'd stolen it at the party, the janitor -an older man with a kind smile, had easily given it away.)

He belonged here, you knew that. Hell, even before the last year, the Doctor would pop in for visits -movie nights, just to try something human he'd heard about, or his impatience on waiting for you. He had a spot then, sat on one of your wider windowsills -staring down at the streets below, or the lit up city, you weren't sure. The man just couldn't sit in a regular chair.

John hadn't done that. Sure, he'd made himself cozy in every space possible that he could, including the kitchen cabinets once (hell of a day), but never... never the windowsill. He hadn't wondered about what was outside, his whole world was right...

"Here," you hummed to yourself, tracing the tips of books on the shelves.

You saw that now, John had no need for adventure, no spark to see something new. He'd been content. Happy with just you.

The Doctor couldn't be like that, you knew that. He never could.

You weren't sure you'd ask him to.

"I wish I could," the Doctor spoke, a chuckle lost in the whisper of his words.

"What?"

He seemed to pause, thinking about his next words -the Doctor thinking never really meant anything good. But, you still found you waited.

"Your John," he finished, "-I wish I could be him."

You froze in your place, your breath hitching in your lungs -so, he had remembered, "We really don't have to-"

He seemed to continue, as if your words hadn't even been spoke, "You have to understand, Y/N, John is a part of me. Sure, without the extra bits, but still me. Me in my most basic form, human."

You didn't know what to say.

"Well," the Doctor corrected, "-human...ish. Not really an exact science, just kind of takes the regeneration energy and-"

"Doctor," you exhaled, tired, "-what is this all about?"

"You don't," he began, face furrowed into one of curious concern, "-You don't know?"

"Know what?"

He seemed to falter to a pause, like he was planning his next move. Or thinking of his next words again. You wondered what he had to be so careful about -you misinterpreting?

In a blink, he was in front of you -digging around through his pocket before he found what he was looking for -the watch, "Did I ever tell you how this works? The Chameleon Arch?"

"You mean the watch?" you questioned.

"I'll take that as a no, then," he started, fingers mindlessly tracing the Gallifreyan on the front, "-the technical part of it is called a Chameleon Arch, Gallifreyan tech. Original duty is to change an individual's species. Technically, it changes your biology -a very painful process, really, I'd know."

"Right," you flinched, remembering the brief moment he'd experienced it before, "-I... remember."

He frowned at you, seeming to not remember that you had seen that, "It's connected to the Tardis, gives me the backstory, but... it's never been an exact science."

You paused, looking at the Doctor with eyes of curiousity -he seemed to have a point to this ramble. He never had a point to his rambles.

"It takes bits and pieces from me," he hummed, demostrating with the air in front of his hands, "-the person it creates isn't entirely from the Tardis, not really."

"What do you mean?"

"Like a motivation," he hummed, debating on whether or not finish it -eyes looking your direction but not at you, "-or a hobby, or a..."

The Doctor froze in his place, eyes focused on his hands in front of him -slowly, his eyes rose up to meet yours, "A... feeling."

You were confused for a moment, watching him. He'd frozen in place, yet his eyes stayed trained on yours. You couldn't quite grasp it, what he was trying to convey to you. Until...

Until you truly looked at him.

There was something erry about him, something on his face that felt off, but at the same time, ever so natural. So right, yet so wrong.

And then it hit you, there it was. The suspicious, fond gaze.

"Doctor," you spoke, disbelieving.

"Y/N, you have to know," he continued, despite your plea, "-you really truly have to-"

"Doctor, please," you hadn't wanted to go through this again -the hope of loving the Doctor could only hurt you, "-you aren't thinking straight. Th-That's John, not you-"

He was confused, twisting memories together, you couldn't... you couldn't chance it.

"Y/N," he was getting closer to you now, voice steady and distinct, "-it started with me."

You froze in place, blinking as if he'd vanish right in front of your eyes. It was almost like a hallucination for a second, because he (the Doctor, not John) could not mean what you thought he meant.

"It took the bit of me that was..." he corrected, watching you as if you could break with slightest of touches, "-is in love with you."

"You do?" you began, sputtering -you weren't sure what to say, "...N-Not John?"

"Well, technically both," he grinned and you felt your stomach twist into a pretzel. God, what were you going to do with him?

"Oh, shut it," you huffed out.

You could definitely be selfish a third time afterall.

In a blink, you pulled his face towards yours -the steps towards him quick and brash but the way you touched his face was different. Gentle, you trailed your finger along his cheekbone for a second.

Your breath mixed with his, he was just looking at you. Like there was nothing else to look at.

Like he was... happy with just you.

God had he been hiding that look the whole time? -peeking over books as you read them, staring at you as you walked around the Tardis fitting in just like a missing puzzle piece.

"It was all me," he whispered, distracted, sure, but still answering you. Stupid Timelord telepathy and stupid handsome aliens.

And maybe you were a little stupid too, but he didn't need the ego boost, truly.

"Hey-" he pouted out, and the jut of his lip almost made your heart flatline -sure you were almost there but you hadn't worked up to it yet.

The Doctor paused, noticing your stiffening in place, the way your eyes darted to his mouth for a second -a split second, and he grinned.

And for a second you thought he might pull back, and make up some excuse, but instead, his hand came up to the side of your face. Surprisingly smooth fingertips detailing the dips and pulls of your face, you could barely breathe at the closeness.

"Wonderful," he spoke, so quiet you could barely hear him -made you wonder if was even for you to hear. Or if it was just... for him, "-You're wonderful."

"Doctor," you almost cried, the movement so soft, so careful. Like he never wanted to forget the face. You held his face close, a breath away from you and this burst of fondness flooding your chest you just couldn't even describe really.

So, you held his face, trailing your fingers along his jaw -showing it the only truest way you knew how, "My Doctor, my darling Doctor."

And you kissed him.

#eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #doctor who #temporarily human! doctor #gender neutral y/n #basically human nature but modern and eleven #a bit angsty but #it fixes itself #watchoutwriting #my john #john smith doctor #unrequited love but not really #it does rip your heart out #but it's okay eventually #kinda made myself fall in love with john so #use of y/n #pet names #flirting

[watchoutforthefanfics]

The Curse of the Companion || unrequited! Eleventh Doctor x reader

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: Gilded Lily by Cults + anon request "the reader deals with the consequences of being the doctor's companion and unrequited love."

TWS: angst, unrequited love, anguish, and heartbreak.

[[A/N: sorry for taking so long I am mad depressed so get lit. Hope you enjoy, anon :) ]]

The legends speak so wondrously of the Doctor. It didn't matter where you were, you always saw them -paintings hung up in galactic galleries, stories told to alien children, and even among your city! You'd heard from a coworker (really from another chain of people you assumed) the idea of a man sent only to save Earth every time they needed it. And maybe there was a detail wrong like the box was green or he didn't speak a word -lord knows that wasn't true.

He often said that in every legend there's usually a companion, an equal part of the story.

"You'll be remembered just as I am."

You'd heard of the blonde with big brown eyes, Rose, the one who carried on -Martha, the fiery redhead Donna, or the Ponds -something in your chest stung.

Legends of the Doctor being cursed weren't new, the last Gallifreyan, so many enemies, losing so many people- He was the epitome of a tragic story.

But you wondered, often, just why the companion's curse wasn't so spoken of.

To know the Doctor was a blessing, to explore the world, the galaxy, mind you- was a blessing. It was freeing, exciting, and wonderful.

Learning about so much more than anyone even had the opportunity to was a blessing.

But... loving the Doctor was a curse.

You weren't the first, and you knew somewhere deep in your chest that you wouldn't be the last. Even if you stayed with him until your bones grew brittle and your hair turned grey, the Doctor would keep moving.

And yet still, you loved him.

The world would keep turning, the danger would keep coming, and he would stay the same -saving Earth, no matter what. You knew that he'd loved some of them, truly loved them and part of you wondered if you could be one.

But you weren't. You knew it.

When he spoke of Rose, of River- He'd get this look in his eyes, a faraway look of both love and grief, loss.

He didn't look at you like that.

And one day, you realized it.

You couldn't sleep, the Tardis was whirring, and somewhere distant you could hear the tinkering of his tools. He'd sent you to bed because you were acting odd. All he could think of was sleep.

"Go, sleep. Humans need that, yeah?"

He cared, but not in the way you did.

"I'll be here ready when you wake!" he'd exclaimed so excited, you knew this would hurt. It would hurt either way.

You'd die on this ship for him, you knew you would. You'd never have a family, or see your Mom again, but you'd die here. Happily. Because you loved him-

"Oi, what are you doing up?" he remarked offhandedly, and you took a moment to look at him, "-I told you to sleep."

His big green eyes, his floppy hair, his stupid bowtie.

"Couldn't," you answered, short but honest.

The Doctor turned to you, tilting his head curiously -bright and twinkly. You wished you could erase it from your brain for a moment because such a look begged you to stay.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No, Doctor-" you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Whatever I did," he hummed, standing, "-I do lots of things couldn't tell you what- I'm sorry."

"Doctor-"

"Do you want me to grovel? I'm not above groveling."

"I want to go home."

He startled for a moment, green eyes fading before brightening, "Is that why you're so grumpy? You could've just-"

And then he looked at you. You looked different, like a stone statue -bags under your eyes and redness blossoming there. He almost asked why you'd been crying, before something in him righted.

"Oh."

"I want to go home," you repeated, but it was empty -hollow like the hole in your chest.

He looked at you for a spare moment, something in you watched his hearts break in his chest, "I have... I have so much to show you. You can't just-"

"Doctor, please," you urged, and now suddenly you were crying, "-I need to go home."

He looked at you even more, like he was trying to read you so desperately trying to understand. You were sure he couldn't. He wouldn't know, you were too good at hiding it -you'd gotten that way one too many River visits.

She was so sweet to him and powerful as a woman, time lady, the perfect match. You couldn't blame her for loving him, you did yourself.

"Why?" He asked, openly, something in you sunk.

"Do I have to tell you?"

"No, you don't have to," he echoed, and slowly flipped a switch like it took all of his energy, "-I'd never force you to do anything, you know that."

"Then-" you started.

"But," he interrupted, soundly, "-I believe I deserve something. Anything. I can't... I can't accept it if you... if you don't tell me why."

You pursed you lips, inhaling a shaky breath, "Doctor, I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

"Did someone... threaten you? Are you in danger?"

"No," you bubbled up, something in your chest throttling, "-no, Doctor, I'm... I'm perfectly safe, I just-"

"Want to leave," he uttered, a little desolate, a little heartbroken. Something in the green, green of his eyes that screamed 'so soon?', and yet you couldn't stop it. Something in you continuing, pushing further, let me out, let me out, let me out-

"You really don't want to tell me, do you?"

"Doctor," you whispered, biting back the instinct, "-I can't."

And then, he looked at you.

Green eyes and floppy hair, stupid bowtie, and tweed jacket, he looked at you in a way that you saw sometimes -far away and distant like he knew everything in the world. Did he know?

His head tilted, his eyebrows pulled together, and he looked at you. Like he... like he recognized what you were doing.

"Oh," he spoke, "...it's... it's the thing, isn't it?"

"The thing?" You questioned.

"I'm an old man, Y/N," he smiled, a bittersweet kind of one, "-I'm not stupid."

"So you- you know," you remarked, slowly -your heart on the brink of beating out of your chest.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I've seen it before. I know that look- You... you-"

Martha, something in your mind dinged, "We don't have to."

"You love me," he finished, his green eyes scattered everywhere but at you, "-don't you?"

"Doctor-"

"No, no shame in it now," he hummed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "-I understand. I know."

"Fine," you sighed, sinking to the metal floor, cold pressing into your skin, through tears, "-I do. I love you."

"Y/N," he faltered.

"Don't," you stopped him, "-just don't. I know you don't-"

"How do you-"

"I know," you silenced him, shaky breaths inhaling into your chest, "-Doctor, I know you. More than you know. And I know who you love... it's not me."

He turned to look at you, green eyes scattered across your face, "I could."

"Doctor, please," you echoed out wiping at your eyes, legs pushed into the metal, "-don't pity me."

"Y/N, if you give me time-" he seemed desperate, roaming closer to you -only desperate to keep you.

"Doctor, stop."

He froze.

"This isn't... This isn't something that can change. I could die here and you wouldn't love me," you spoke something in you breaking, "-not really."

"I love you in the way that matters," he spoke with a firm voice -speaking as though it was a fact. Like he could convince you.

"Like a dear friend," you concluded.

"No, no," he started, so close to you (you took a step back), "-like a companion. Like my companion."

"And it's different?"

"Very different," he replaced that step towards you, platonically brushing his hands down your arms -you knew the drill, "-it's... it's hard to explain. I just, sometimes believe the universe is wrong."

"Wrong for what?" You echoed, a little softer.

"Wrong that I chose my companions," he hummed, "-I think in some twisted way you chose me, Y/N. And... and everyone before you did the same. Every companion I've ever had has altered me to who I am today."

"And you're saying I-"

"You are a part of me, my dear, dear Y/N," he spoke, and suddenly you saw tears built at the corners of his eyes, "-I will truly never forget you. No matter what you believe, every companion carves out a space in my hearts."

"So, I can go," you echoed out and suddenly it didn't feel right, "-you will move on but you won't... you won't forget me. No matter how hard I believe it."

"No matter how hard you believe it," he finished and suddenly he was smiling, a big wide smile that made your eyes hurt -just a little.

Something in you healed just a smidge.

"This is a good ending," he clarified, "-no death, no break in the universe if I come to see you, nothing."

"And you promise to?"

"Promise what?" He questioned the tilt of his head not unlike a puppy.

"Come visit me," you clarified, slow and unsure, "-I know, I know I'm leaving... but you're still-"

"The Doctor," he spoke, soft, "-and you're still-"

"Your companion," you let out a big gust of air, and something in you felt light and airy again.

It was the curse of the companion, sure, but nothing would amount to the knowing the Doctor. Being able to love him-

You were certain it was something much different than a curse.

#the curse of the companion #watchoutwriting #eleventh doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x y/n

[watchoutforthefanfics]

Ticking Love Bomb (Part Seven) || Eleventh Doctor × gn! Reader

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7...

Taglist: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @solitairemvp @idontevenknowwth @this-is-me-lolol @rokosbasalisk @solarbxby

Summary: Your adventure with the Doctor and the Ponds takes a harsh turn when it seems you're targeted with a potion. A love potion, specifically the type where you fall in love with whoever's eyes you met first after "drinking" it. But what if you're already in love with him?

TWS: aliens, space, references of guns, smoke, unrequited love (but not really), self sacrificial attitudes, and purely oblivious people. Also, just a touch of angst (typical of a love confession).

You heard somewhere distantly a sort of grumbly voice, deep and echoing against your ribcage, but it still somehow brought you comfort -a voice you knew but right now, you couldn’t remember. You should’ve remembered.

The room was slow to form around you, the fuzziness of your mind light and airy. It didn’t feel real, nothing felt quite real. 

You were on a beach -the sand was a wondrous sort of purple but you knew it was a beach, the sun beating down on your skin and the water still a blue. And there he was, sitting against the sand -his suit jacket shed and his sleeves pushed up his arms.

His hands were messing with the sand, and his feet dipped into the water. He looked rather comfortable, you didn’t want to disturb him. 

“Come on, then,” he waved back at you, “-it’s rather lonely over here.”

Your mouth opened without your insistence, “Oh, you saying you miss me, raggedy man?”

“All the time,” he spoke rather genuinely, politely patting the sand beside him -it was just you and him then. You wondered why that bothered you for a second.

Raggedy Man, as you so promptly referred to him, was smiling -it made your heart stutter in your chest. He looked pretty with the sun on his skin and his hair askew, like maybe the water had drizzled over it. 

“Don't be a sap,” you laughed, moving beside him, “-you know I can't handle when you're a sap-”

“Maybe that's why I do it,” he answered, something twinkling in his eye, “-I'm rather fond of you when you're flustered.”

“Don't,” you shook your head, “-Don't start.”

Your eyes landed on something blue, it was almost… calling out to you. Like it was reaching for you but it had no hands-

The shape was all blurry but you still knew it, you knew that blue, you knew that feeling, you knew this man-

The sun was so bright now, it almost… it almost took up your whole vision. It was, it was taking up your whole vision now.

“Raggedy man?”

That was how you woke up, chained up in a small little room -sweat beading down your forehead. You weren't really feeling well -your head spinning, your wrists stinging, and your eyes ran dry.

It was a cloudy sort of fuzziness to your mind, something in your chest beating harder than you'd ever thought it could.

“Doctor,” the word left your lips before you could think straight, but as you gained consciousness you only went further, “-Doctor.”

The silence was unwelcome.

“R-Rory, Amy-” your throat was dry, and you suddenly wondered exactly where you were, “-I don't-”

You struggled against the metal-like substance on your wrists, wiggling against it despite the pull of your skin.

“Calm down,” a voice echoed through the room, not one you knew, “-struggling will do nothing.”

“Where did you take me? Where-” you started, a little frantic (the Doctor was always a fingertip away), “-Where am I?”

“Hidden,” the voice answered, bouncing off the walls, “-per request until the Doctor confers with the Headmistress.”

Right, your brain responded, he loves me.

He loves me.

“For how long?” You questioned, arms tired and head sore, “Do you- Are they talking now?”

“Likely,” the voice answered, shortly.

“Why do you-” you started, “-Why me?”

“Obvious answer to an obvious question,” the voice tsked, “-you know why now.”

“I guess I do.”

You took a glance around the room, the white sleek cuffs were still placed around your wrists, but other than that you were free to roam. It was lined with sleek metal walls -shiny to your eye, it hurt with your head so stuffy.

There was even something that resembled a bed -though, it didn't look very comfortable. It was a simple slab of the same material as the walls, some sort of metal, and a silky sort of fabric draped on top, thin.

That won't help against the coolness of the metal, you brain thought, and a bed? How long do they expect this to take?

You simply turned your foot to the back wall, where a window lie. It was a small one but you could still see the swirls of galaxies, peeking into your vision.

Vibrant colors that part of you wished you could touch, feel, see better.

If reminded you of your feet hanging out of the Tardis, as he set it up perfectly to see something beautiful. Except he wasn't here, and the view was miniscule -only a little if you stood on your tippy toes.

You missed it all.

“Can you… tell me when they're done?”

“No,” the voice answered, sharply, “-it's best you know of nothing.”

“Why is that?” You questioned.

“The Doctor’s companions are intelligent, If you know something,” the creature continued, “-you might get out.”

“Awe, thank you,” you remarked, deadpan, “-and how exactly would I do that? I'm cuffed and locked in from the outside.”

“Headmistress takes no chances.”

“I can see that,” you looked around at the walls -you couldn't even see where the door began. It was all just plated metal.

Then, as if the world answered your question, the door slid open. One of the creatures, tall and lanky, came inside and merely looked at you.

“Headmistress has requested you,” the creature said, robotically, “-it's time for negotiations.”

#eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #doctor who #gender neutral y/n #a bit angsty but #it fixes itself #is really sad kinda so #unrequited love but not really #use of y/n #watchoutwriting #ticking love bomb

[watchoutforthefanfics]

the apple pie life for me (and you) // Dean Winchester x Castiel (SPN)

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: Cough Syrup - Glee Cast (Cover)

Summary: One minute, Castiel is confessing his love as he sacrifices himself, so Dean can live. The next, Dean is dead, and Castiel's avoiding him in Heaven. Or maybe Dean's avoiding him. Dean has probably never been more confused in his life, feelings for his best friend and all.

TWs: kinda angst, mentioned vomit, very slightly alluded child abuse (john winchester), a little bit of yelling, sort of suicidal thoughts (like yeah, but he's already dead), cursing, crying, low self-worth, mention of self-sacrifice, Dean is bad at feelings (and so is Cas), avoidance, mention of death, and confrontation.

[[A/N: This is a finale fix-it, but with the finale still canon, if you will. Except Dean doesn't like just drive until Sam dies. This actually ripped out my soul and shoved it back in. I felt possessed writing this. Also, let Dean say fuck. Anyway. This shit will fuck you up, but it's a happy ending !!! Anyway, enjoy :))) ]]

Dean doesn't think he wanted to die.

But he's not really sure. And he kinda feels like that's something you should be sure about.

As he cruises along in Baby with no place to go, but also somehow having somewhere in mind, he just keeps thinking about it.

Lots of things, really. Chuck, everyone disappearing, Jack, Sammy back on Earth (he thinks he's always gonna worry about him), and... and Cas.

See that's... that's where his mind hitches.

Because otherwise, after Jack took over, Dean thought things were going pretty good. Great, even. Him and Sammy doing the same thing it all started with. (Sans the Dad thing, probably for the best, but still-)

But, the more he thinks about it now, where there is nothing but the road, Baby, and him... That life, that wasn't what he wanted. He wasn't living how he wanted to. Sure, he wanted Sammy in it, but to say he still wanted to be a hunter?

When he thought about it, it kinda felt like he was still playing the role that Chuck had carved out for him. He knows he had free will then, he knows Chuck wasn't in charge, but he just... That role was comfortable, familiar, and he thinks maybe... both him and Sam just fell right back into it.

And then, there's the just him and Sam thing. It started like that, yeah, and don't get him wrong, he loves Sammy. (It's probably in his bones now, it's so ingrained in his friggin' DNA.) But it wasn't just him and Sammy, not anymore.

So, how can everything be 'goin' good' when you're missing pieces, people?

Like Jody and the girls, Garth and his family, Eileen, Jack and... and Cas.

So, even though, Jack fixed it all, it was still kinda like him and Sam were the only ones on the planet. Alone.

He wasn't happy with what he was doing, he was missing people like hell, and his brain was in near-constant turmoil because... because his best friend was dead. And it wasn't like he tried to stop it, live like how Castiel wanted him to. What he died for.

But he just couldn't. How the hell was he supposed to live happily when Cas was dead? Because of him, of all things.

So, maybe... maybe he did want to die.

Dean doesn't think it's only the Cas... thing, he thinks it's a lot of things (probably). But, he thinks him not being there is really what makes it all so wrong.

He thinks back to when Cas was dead before, when... when all he needed was a "damn win" and he got him back. Everything was so much better, even though shit hadn't been done about Chuck or any of their other problems. He had a damn win.

He's just starting to think that maybe he didn't need a win, maybe he needed Cas.

And maybe that's why the life he lived wasn't what he wanted. Maybe that's why it was so easy to die when he'd been fighting all his life to live freely. Escape whatever goddamn prophecies plagued his life, and live how he wanted to.

Team Free Will, he remarked somewhere in his head.

And yet, the only one living freely was Cas. Sam and Dean, written like damn books, apparently, but Cas?

Chuck said he never followed him, said that he had a "crack in his chassis" (whatever the hell that meant). And he'd even... the turning point for him was Dean. Goddamn "gripping him tight and raising him from perdition".

That was when he'd veered off the path Chuck had built for him, and out of the damn countless universes, this... his Cas was the only one who broke the cycle.

And then, he'd think back to the moment he died for the... for the last time. What he said, and how he said it, and even when Dean tried to twist it to something that wasn't so goddamn scary. He couldn't. Because he had said it clear as day.

And just telling him gave him 'true happiness' (like a damn fairytale). He didn't expect a response, or anything, just telling him. Dean couldn't wrap his head around it at all. Hadn't since the day he said it.

Every time he thought about both of them, Cas's... confession and Chuck's words, he connected the dots. He'd never let himself think about it, but now he had all the time in the world to. It's all he could do.

So, he let himself think it, just this once.

Cas... loving him, that wasn't planned. That was all Cas. This Cas. His Cas.

He maybe even loved him so much that it broke god's will.

How was Dean supposed to handle that? Digest that? When seconds later, Cas was dead. Even now, he couldn't-

There was a house.

To his left, it had been miles of just meadows and fields, and now... now there was a house. A white house, that you sort of just pictured in your head when you imagined a 'family home'. It looked kind of oddly like his house when he was a kid, but also not at all.

It had a white picket fence and a big yard. It had all the works.

The apple pie life, his mind chimed.

Dean paused a moment, wondering if this was someone else's. His eyes peered around it, focusing on the long, empty driveway (the kind that was half dirt and half rocks). And he came up decidedly empty.

He took a breath, and mumbled low (maybe to make sure he could still talk), "'S worth a shot."

Flinching a little at Baby bumping along the rocks, Dean slowly crept up to the house. Eyeing it the whole time, as if it would change when he looked away. Or maybe like it wouldn't feel right halfway up the driveway.

But, he felt the same all the way through.

Dean pursed his lips, staring at the white shingles and the big porch with two rocking chairs -one on either side.

It was two stories, but still small. And it wasn't perfect either, not like out of one of those friggin' house magazines where everything seemed so clean, it was almost scary. There were scuffs and marks, and the grass grew too high right next to the steps.

He took a breath, and stepped out of Baby, throwing the keys around his fingers on instinct. The jingle was the only noise that filled the air then.

It was crazy how much the air smelt the same, felt the same. He could see the wind shift the blades of grass and the branches of the trees, it felt so much like... home.

Even though Dean had never seen this house before in his life, it felt like home.

That... That feeling was new.

He let his eyes surf over the land a second, before catching on a barn -rundown and hidden behind the house. And even though it was, Dean traced the driveway all the way back to it.

Letting himself take one last look at the house, he slowly trailed back to the barn. Feet crushing over rocks and twigs, he truly had never felt more alive. Ironically.

It wasn't the long stretch of road, the slick seats of Baby, or the low hum of the engine. It was the sound of birds, the smell of flowers, and the fresh air. Dean nearly almost bent down to get dirt on his hands just to feel it again, instead of the smooth steering wheel he knew so well.

He didn't though, and instead, approached the barn. Somewhere in his head, it rang familiar. He wasn't sure why or how, but as he walked through the door it just... he knew it.

And as his footsteps echoed through the air, it hit him.

Dean spun around on his feet and looked toward the door, almost on instinct.

He did know this barn. It was where he... where he first met Cas. He remembers it more with all the sigil and black paint everywhere, but looking back at the door, at the lights-

He laughed a little, the dramatic son of a bitch.

Dean cut himself short, watching the doors. Maybe he was expecting something, someone, but he'd never say it out loud. He couldn't, not now.

Cas had been right there.

And there was a part of him that wished he still was.

He took a deep breath through his nose, wondering what exactly he was going to do with it. Or if he was just gonna keep it empty. Because...

He had the spare thought to make it into a kinda garage, build some shelves maybe, fill the walls with parts. He could pull Baby in, shelter her from the rain. If it did rain here. Somehow Dean hoped so. He wanted stuff like rain, snow, the crunching leaves, and the smush of mud under his shoe.

It was weird to say he wanted to feel human in Heaven, but he did.

Because when had he ever felt human? Really?

He wanted that. He wanted a lot of things now that could never have imagined back then. Or didn't think to, he guessed.

Patting one of the wooden walls, Dean made his exit.

His eyes lingered on the backyard for a moment, where the expanse of grass seemed larger, and in the corner, there seemed to be a fenced-off patch of dirt. Maybe for a garden.

He had never thought about having a garden, but he wasn't really against it either.

He looked at for a second, before thinking to himself. Cas would probably like that.

He had that bee thing, and bees like flowers, right? So, maybe he'd offer it to him. Let him have the space. It would be nice having him there, a little piece of him around him every day.

Because he knew that he was tinkering around somewhere, supposedly with Jack. And maybe... maybe it would be nice for him to have a break, a garden.

Dean bit his lip, tapping his foot a moment.

Was that what it was? Was that why you wanted him here, Winchester? Really?

He kept moving forward, steady steps back to the front of the house. For once in his life, there was no rush. He could take his time.

By the time he swung around to the porch, the wind had died down and left only the shining sun in its wake. It felt just like when the sun touched his skin on Earth, maybe even a little better. He liked it the same reason he liked everything else, just being human.

Dean moved up the steps, stairs creaking with every move and his hand drifting across the railing. It was imperfect with bumps and peeling paint, and he had a thought that maybe he could fix it one day. Maybe that's why the house is the way it is, so he could fix it.

Like maybe it had been built like that because he'd always wanted to do it. Fix up a house. Did Cas know that?

His eyes roamed over to the second rocking chair thoughtfully. He kind of had an idea of who he wanted there.

He let his fingers drift over the chair a moment, like maybe if he thought hard enough, he'd be there. Here.

Dean didn't think that he could talk to him, or maybe that he would be comfortable doing so. But that didn't mean he didn't want to friggin' see him, talk to him.

And even though it was scary as hell, he would talk about it if Cas wanted to. He just thinks that the natural progression is his response, and Dean... Dean wasn't sure he had one. Or maybe he had one, but he wasn't sure he could say it.

He was a damn coward.

Pulling open the door, Dean's eyes slunk along the walls. The first thing he saw was a hallway, softly colored walls, and frames along it. Stepping inside, he pulled the door closed behind him (on instinct) and drew his attention to the pictures.

A lot of them, he recognized.

Old pictures of him and Sammy, pictures of his Mom and Dad. But some, he hadn't.

His fingers trailed over a frame. It was him and Cas laughing in the bunker, he'd had no idea it was taken at all. It must've been Sam, but he'd never found the need to show him, apparently.

He had that sort of crinkly smile that he'd get sometimes, and Dean was saying something but he was laughing halfway through it. And Cas was just looking at him like he always did.

Ever since Cas's goodbye, he'd been rethinking everything he knew. Everything.

From the first time he saw him to the last, he'd looked through everything -trying to find it. Trying to see how he'd missed it for so long. And when he did, it was right damn in front of him.

That was probably what he hated this most, that he'd never seen it. Dean had never even thought of the possibility, only once or twice when some dick would make an offhand remark. (Which, when he looked back on it, happened a lot.)

And it has seemed just so far away. Impossible.

Maybe that wasn't because he hadn't... but because he was a broken human (past damn repair) and he was an angel of the Lord.

How could he love me?

And then, there was all that he said. That he believed Dean was so much better than he did. At his very core was love of all things.

"The one thing I want, I know I can't have."

Knows he can't have, it kept ringing through his head. As he wandered up the stairs, maybe even before that, when he was driving, and maybe even before that when it was just him and Sammy ganking bitches.

He didn't tell Sam, and maybe that was the biggest thing. Maybe he felt some guilt, or maybe... maybe he just wanted to keep it to himself. He wasn't sure.

Dean wasn't sure about any goddamn thing at this point.

He took a breath and peeked into the rooms. He didn't want to go fully in them, he wasn't sure why. But one of them, he recognized to be a guest bedroom. It was empty, except for a bed and a dresser -impersonal.

Maybe for Sammy someday.

There was a bathroom on the other wall, he thinks he has two. One downstairs and one up. (Maybe even three, he hasn't looked at his master bedroom yet.) He paused a moment, maybe imagining things on the sink. Imagining a rug he buys one day (do they even buy things? Or does he just think it into existence?). It was domestic, and Dean couldn't tell if he liked it or not.

He trailed down the stairs again, and just to his right, he saw another bathroom -right by the front door. It was empty again, except for the essentials. Toilet, shower, and sink. He didn't waste anymore time.

Across from it was, he guessed, the living room. And he kinda expected the same, just the essentials, maybe some fuzzy throw pillows that Dean would inevitably throw out. Maybe a rug he'd say he didn't like, but he'd keep it anyway.

But it wasn't.

Instead, Dean found something a lot more personal.

It was a big TV with shelves surrounding it filled with movies. And the more he looked at it, the more at it -they were his favorites. And on the wall under the window, there was a cassette player (no cassettes, but they were probably out in Baby) and to its left a mini fridge. Dean chanced a look in it and found his favorite type of beer. And under it, on one of the shelves was an unused record player. Beside both of them, there was one of those containers for vinyls (Dean had friggin' clue what it was called), and it was filled. He didn't have to look to know it was all his favorites.

There were bean bags piled in the corner like he'd have too many visitors for the couch. Or maybe they'd expect him to. Cas would expect him to.

Dean felt like his breath was shot out of his chest. A little like he couldn't friggin' breath.

His Dean-cave.

It was a damn upgrade, yeah, not with concrete floors and stuffy walls. But in essence the very same. Probably the perfect version of it in his head.

God, had Cas remembered that?

Remembered all of it? His favorite fucking songs, favorite movies, favorite shows- Had Cas remembered everything?

It made him want to throw up, or maybe like his heart was squeezed so tight in his chest that he felt like he might die. Again, he guessed.

Wouldn't be the first time.

Dean stared at the room, hand coming to rest on the back of the couch. He swallowed back the bile that was rising in his chest, it felt like his stomach was waves in the damn ocean.

He didn't know whether to cry or throw his guts up. It felt just like after Cas was taken by the Empty.

Like his world was shifting and crumbling all at once.

Dean stepped back a few steps and came up against the wall. His eyes burned.

He ran a hand through his hair, a little frantically, and tried to school the sob that climbed up his throat.

He's alive, he repeated to himself, Cas is fucking alive.

Some other voice chimed back, little and weak, But he's not here, is he?

He took in a deep breath, shaky, and leaned his head back up against the wall. Looking up at the ceiling, Dean thought maybe he felt tears roll down his cheeks.

He wanted to pray, bring him here. But what the hell would he even say?

"Hey buddy, confessing your love and fucking dying after wasn't very fun for me."

"What you did wasn't goddamn fair."

"I know you love me, but I don't understand it. I don't get it."

"How can you love me?"

"I think maybe I love you too."

His breath hitched in his chest.

He clenched his fist onto the wall, pounding it a few times. He heard the frames rattle in their places and felt the wood boards behind it under his hand.

Dean took a deep breath in and wiped at his eyes. Sniffling, he walked forward into the kitchen. Keep moving.

It was the cozy kind of kitchen, not the minimalist crap, with wooden cupboards and imperfect counters. The refrigerator had a few pictures stuck to it, held up by those damn alphabet magnets.

He just somehow knew that was Cas's idea.

And he laughed a little at it, taking one of them in his hands and rubbing his thumb over the shitty plastic.

His eyes smoothed over the space again, and he found something actually on the counter. He wasn't sure how he missed it the first time, but now, there was a slice of apple pie there. Probably the most picturesque one he'd ever seen. Heaven pie.

"Goddamn Heaven pie," he muttered, but he was smiling.

Before he could take a bite, of what he suspected might be the best pie in his life, he heard something.

A dog bark.

Dean nearly ran to the front door, leaving the pie stranded on the counter. Swinging the door open, he nearly stalled in place.

Miracle was there, yeah, and ran up to him a little like he was the only person in the world. It made his heart ache. But there was someone else.

"I've got a delivery," Charlie, his Charlie, smiled -grinned even.

"Charlie," he spoke, a little like it took everything in his chest to. She only smiled brighter.

Dean thought maybe he was crying, and he grabbed her in a hug. One that he thought may have been a little too tight but she didn't complain. She didn't say a word.

He put his chin on top of her head (just like he used to) and felt her hair (still short) under it. He used to do it to remember she was there, it felt like he was missing a fucking limb when he couldn't anymore. He never thought about the fact that maybe he could again one day.

It felt like everything in him was relieved, as if the tension had melted away. Somehow, someway, Charlie was exactly what he needed right now.

God, he hadn't even thought about her.

Well, he had. A lot. He thought about everybody he'd ever lost, that shit weights on your conscience. (Especially her.) But he'd never thought of her being up here, that he could see her again. Give her a goddamn hug-

He sniffled a little and dropped his mouth to kiss her on the forehead. She hugged him back just as tight, and he thought he might’ve heard her sniffle too.

Dean spoke before he could stop it, "I'm sorry."

"Dean, no," she pulled back, but didn't let go of his arms, "-you weren't- That wasn't your fault, you know that."

He was still crying, and maybe his voice was cracking, "I'm still sorry."

Charlie rubbed her hands down his arms for a minute, before changing the topic, "'Heard you took down God."

Dean laughed a little, wiping at his eyes, "Damn straight I did. Me, Sammy, and Jack."

"Would've loved to know him," she smiled -big and bright, "-but he's too busy for me now."

"Probably too busy to see me too," he offered, sniffling, "-if that helps you."

She shrugged, a little knowingly, "I think he'd make time if you asked."

He bit his lip a moment, thoughtfully, "Ya wanna come in?"

"Was waiting for that," she laughed, walking in -her eyes dipping over the walls, before waltzing into the Dean-cave, "-Look at your digs, Winchester! Not bad."

"It fit me?" He asked.

She turned to him then, grinning, "To a T."

He ran his tongue along his teeth, something heavy in his throat, "You know who made it?"

"I do," Charlie passively remarked, as Miracle ran up and jumped on the couch, "-We saw the house pop up a bit ago, not long, and we saw them out here, building it."

"Cas, yeah?" He asked like he didn't already know.

"Yup," she popped the 'p', running up to his shelves and seemingly skimming the titles, "-that and uh... Jack. But, mostly Cas."

She muttered something about 'shit, you have that one?', but Dean's mind was elsewhere.

"Do you," he started asking, swallowing kind of awkwardly, "-Do you see things on Earth? Like um... events, or conversations?"

"Only when we want to," she answered, still busy on the shelves (currently she was on her tippy-toes looking at the top one), "-I've been watching a few conventions over the years. Sometimes I peek in on you, or Sam, or Cas, for that matter. But I'm pretty content here."

Dean fell silent, fidgeting with his hands.

She turned to him, quirking a brow, "Why? Do you want to check in on Sam? It's pretty easy, actually-"

"Before," he started, and Charlie's lips snapped shut, "-Before the whole, uh, Chuck fight and Jack becoming... well, God. Cas died again."

"Shit," she spoke, "-how did he die?"

"Billie, ya know, Death, uh," he cleared as throat, and Charlie's eyes were on him (intently watching), "-she was after us. Me and Cas, and he... he sacrificed himself."

"Damn," she let out, "-have you seen him since Jack-"

"He didn't really... die," Dean kept going, maybe like he couldn't stop (he wanted to tell someone), "-There's this place where, uh, demons and angels go when they 'die'. From what I've heard, it's kinda like a void, an eternal sleep kinda deal."

Charlie pursed her lips a moment, maybe trying to decide if she should speak, "Yeah, I've heard rumors. Never been there of course, but um, yeah."

Dean bit his lip, and took a deep breath in.

"Dean," Charlie slowly stepped toward him, "-are you okay? Do you need to... sit down?"

"He made a deal," he continued, and maybe he wasn't looking at her but he really couldn't, "-Uh, the Empty, or the eternal sleep thing, um... would take him when he was the damn happiest he's ever been."

"And," she paused, laughing a little, "-how was he the happiest he's ever been when you were running from Death?"

Dean didn't say a word, and Charlie promptly cut her laughter short. The silence echoed a moment, and she stepped closer to him again (this was uncharted territory).

"Dean?"

He swallowed, his voice was a little scratchy now and his eyes burned, "He... He started this speech about- about me, and how good I was. That I wasn't just anger or... or hate like I thought. I was love, I raised Sammy for... for love, and do what I do, like stop the goddamn apocalypse, for love. That I was... the most selfless person he'd ever known-"

Charlie stayed quiet.

"-And he's lived millenniums," Dean laughed a little and it was wet (and maybe he was crying), "-I mean, how can that... how can that be true?"

"Dean," she leveled in a steady voice.

"And he just kept going," he laughed again, and he wiped at his eyes, "-and I couldn't say a goddamn word."

"Dean."

"And after all that," he felt a sob crawl up his throat, it shattered through his chest, "-after all that he told me he loved me. And just saying it, fucking telling me- That made him the happiest he's ever been."

Charlie's eyes were shiny, and she was looking at him a little like he would shatter at any second. But she didn't say a word.

"He said," he swallowed, his breaths shaky, "-He said that the one thing he wanted he couldn't have but I..."

He let himself say it, this once.

"Charlie, I-" he looked at her then, and she was frowning, her eyes were teary, "-I think he can have it. I think he-"

Dean took a breath, it shook through his lungs and laughed again -wiping at his eyes (like he wouldn't be crying if they didn't fall).

"-I think he's always damn had it."

There was silence then, and Dean didn't feel like he had anything else to say. Or maybe that he could say anything else. It felt like his soul had been ripped out of his chest-

Charlie seemed to take a minute to make sure, tediously stepping forward.

But when she realized he was, she pulled him into a hug again. This time though, she stood on her tippy-toes and pulled his head to her shoulder. Her hand cradling the back of his head, Dean followed her lead.

He took a breath in, that was just so Charlie, his Charlie, and it made his eyes fog up again.

She held him there a while, even though it couldn't have been comfortable. He knew that, but he couldn't be the one to pull away. Halfway because it was so long since he'd seen her, and halfway because he couldn't remember the last time he was held like this. Cared for like this.

"Did you," she started, slow and careful (gentle), "-Have you told anyone about this?"

"No, I... I died with it," he breathed out, "-I just... I couldn't tell Sammy-"

"Dean, hey," Charlie shooshed him, before joking lightly, "-that's okay. It just... It seemed like it was a little pent up."

Dean laughed a little, and she seemed to be happy about that.

"It was," he echoed out in the silence, "-I didn't... I didn't tell anyone."

"Well," she hummed, pushing her chin onto his shoulder, "-thank you for telling me."

Something in his chest softened.

"I think that's..." she spoke, gently, "-I think that's big for you. All of this is... is big for you."

There was a beat.

"You're doing your best, Dean," she soothed, squeezing him a little tighter, "-And maybe you didn't tell Sam, or tell Cas, but you did what you could. Everyone has their limits."

He let out a breath, less shaky this time, and dug himself further into her shoulder.

"That's nothing-" her hand rubbed against his back, "-That's nothing to be ashamed of."

He let the words sink into his skin.

"And quite frankly," Charlie quipped, "-your limit is way past mine. So, I can't judge."

Dean laughed again, and he could nearly feel her smile.

Thoughtfully keeping himself there for just a little longer, before pulling back. Sniffling and wiping at his eyes, Charlie stayed very close by, just in place for another hug.

"We good?" She questioned, a little playfully but on the same note, very serious.

"Yeah, yeah, we're uh-" he chuckled out, "-we're good."

"Can I..." she paused a moment, "-If you're not comfortable, don't answer it. But, is this your first... guy thing?"

Dean froze a little.

"You don't have to answer," she quickly added, "-at all. No pressure."

It's Charlie.

He ran his hand along his jaw, before rumbling out, "Kinda. I... When I was a kid, I knew, and maybe I even acted on it a little, but Dad..."

Charlie hummed in understanding, "He found out?"

"Yeah, uh," he spoke, suddenly awkward, "-I don't... I've never known how he figured it out. Or maybe he just... assumed, but he... yeah."

It was unspoken, and she seemed to understand.

"God," she asserted, maybe a little incredulously, "-he should really not be here."

Dean laughed a little, but something was heavy in his chest, "I don't know if I'd visit either of them anyway. Even without... this."

Charlie pursed her lips, "And you don't have to. It's your Heaven. If they... If they try to talk to you, let me know. I'll get a crew."

"A crew?"

"There's enough of us," she shrugged, "-He's an old man anyway, I'm sure I could take him."

He laughed a little again, "You'd be surprised."

She looked at him a moment like maybe that spoke louder than anything else he said. She squeezed his shoulder once, but gratefully, didn't say anything.

"And can I clarify something?"

Dean hummed.

"When Castiel..." she didn't say it, "-Did you not have time? Or were you just... scared?"

"A little bit of both," he answered, fingers tapping along the table by the couch, "-He said it, told me goodbye, and... and adios."

"But you wouldn't have told him? If you got the chance?" She asked, genuinely.

"I don't..." he sighed out, "-I don't know. I think, in the moment, I was just overwhelmed by it all. In-between how he talked about me, and how he... I barely processed a word before he was gone."

Charlie just looked at him.

"I sat there for a while before it-" he moved over to Miracle, petting him, "-it, uh, kicked in."

"And you-" she responded, a little slowly, "-you haven't seen him since then?"

"Well, I... I just got here," he explained, picking up Miracle's ear between his fingers, "-and I didn't even know he'd gotten out. Until... Until Bobby told me."

"Huh," she commented, sitting beside Miracle, "-Do you think he'd come? If you asked?"

Dean rolled the thought around in his mind, "I don't know, he kinda wanted me to live a lot longer than I did."

"How did you die?"

"On a hunt," he answered, simply.

"Shit," she muttered, "-What took you out?"

"Piece of rebar," he offered, wandering back around toward the shelf, "-Monster of the week threw me against a wall, right into it."

"That's..."

"Sammy was gonna call an ambulance, but I..." he echoed out, "-I told him no. I think- I think I wanted to die."

Charlie didn't speak for a moment, processing it, "Because of... Cas?"

"Yeah, mostly," Dean admitted, "-I, uh, realized it all when I got here. Drove Baby for a while and just... Just started thinking."

"About everything?"

"Yeah, uh," he hummed out, brushing his hand over Miracle's fur, "-everything. I wasn't happy there. Wasn't living the life I wanted, and I don't think I could have. Not without Cas."

She paused a second, "Do you think you'll be happy here?"

"It's Heaven," he laughed, not really looking at her, "-I kinda have to be, right?"

"Well," she countered, speaking a little carefully, "-Dean, you still don't have Cas."

Dean's hand froze in place.

"If you weren't happy without him then," she continued, thoughtfully, "-how are you going to be happy without him now?"

"He was dead," he spoke -defensively, "-He's alive now. I can... I can live with that."

"Dean," Charlie reiterated, low and gentle, "-will you be happy?"

"I've handled worse," he argued, but something in his chest was twisting.

She looked at him then, eyes steady on his, "But you don't have to."

He swallowed, repeating, "But I can."

She stood up then, coming right in front of him, and Dean nearly shrunk in place.

"Dean, he... he loves you," Charlie spoke, barely a whisper, "-and I think, somewhere in that thick skull of yours, you love him too."

He gnawed at his lip, "What's that gotta do with anything?"

"It's... everything, Dean," she laughed, a little in disbelief, "-It's got to do with everything. You deserve to be happy."

He took a deep breath through his nose.

"Isn't that what Castiel wanted?" she pointed out, "-For you to be happy?"

"Apparently not," he retorted, a little bitterly, "-how could I be happy when he's dead?"

"Maybe-" Charlie paused, cogs turning in her head, "-You said that he had to be the happiest he's ever been right?"

"Yeah," he replied, trying to follow.

"How could he be the happiest he's ever been if he knew he was causing you pain?"

Dean swallowed, his stomach twisting, "You think..."

"Dean, look I could be wrong," she clarified, "-but I don't think he thought you'd care. If... If he was the happiest he's ever been, and he loved you, he would never be able to cause you pain, or think he would, and still get taken."

He was speechless, something climbing up his throat.

"If he thought you weren't going to be happy," she finished like she'd had a major breakthrough, "-he... he couldn't have been taken."

"He..." Dean faltered to a stop, "-You really think he thought I wouldn't care?"

Charlie pursed her lips together, "I don't know how else it could've worked."

Dean felt like his whole body was on fire, like he was burning alive. Cas didn't know he cared? How the hell didn't he know that?

God, he cared so damn much, and he didn't even know?

He tried to think back to every time he'd lost Cas, all the grief. Dean realized he'd never seen that, he didn't see everytime he lost his goddamn mind because he was gone. For all he knew, everything was hunky-fucking-dory. He's just always thought he knew.

God, he didn't know?

She approached him then, holding his arms, "Dean, I know it's scary, believe me, I know-"

He just looked at her, words stuck in his throat. It felt like he could say everything and nothing at all. Like he was feeling everything and nothing at the same time.

"But he deserves to know," she finished.

Dean took a second, before saying, "Yeah, yeah, he does."

Charlie smiled at him, patting his arms, "You should talk to him, like... as soon as possible."

"Through what? Prayer?"

"Well, yeah," she laughed a little as if it was obvious.

"How do I know..." he exhaled, "-How do I know he'll come?"

"Dean," she assured, "-he loves you."

"Yeah, but what if he's-" he paused, "-what if he's avoiding me?"

"Dean," she repeated, "-he loves you."

"How does that-"

"That doesn't just stop," she interrupted him, "-It's not like if he gets uncomfortable, he'll just stop loving you. It's bigger than everything, if you ask him to, he'll come."

"But-" he tried.

"I know it," she continued, "-and when have I ever been wrong?"

Dean laughed a little.

"Actually, don't answer that," she laughed, "-Just, just trust me. He built this whole Heaven for you, didn't he?"

He responded, simply, "He did."

"He'll come," she repeated, "-You just have to ask, Winchester."

She'd left not long after that, with one solid hug (he didn't think he'd every stop hugging her, ever) and a promise to "tell me all the deets, including the juicy stuff".

Dean wasn't sure how to handle that.

He didn't do it immediately. He sat down and ate the pie first, which was the friggin' best one he'd ever had (he wondered if it always tasted like that up here). Then, he spent the next few hours going through his collection. He even popped in a cassette from Baby, had a few in-home concerts, and just sat with Miracle for a while (Dean thought that he might've known he wasn't doing something he was supposed to, he had a serious bitch face). And then it was night.

So, he went to bed.

He'll be honest, it happened a few times. Days happened (if that was a thing in Heaven).

It wasn't like he wasn't trying. He did, just every time he tried... He was just a damn coward. Kept saying, "I'll do it tomorrow." And it had very much already been tomorrow. A few of them, actually.

Part of him was kinda waiting to see if he'd just... show up like he used to. But, if he'd confessed his, what he believed to be, unrequited love to his best friend... he'd probably avoid him at all costs too. (He kinda already was.)

Today, though, was different.

Dean woke up, got his coffee, and instead of sitting down at the table and staring out the window (usually watching Miracle run around the yard), he went to the hallway. Couldn't tell you why, if you asked. But he just did.

And he stopped at the same picture, the one of him and Cas laughing. His eyes roamed over the crinkled smile, maybe a little differently now. An ache settled in his chest, like maybe he was missing a limb. Every morning he woke up, something was missing.

And sure, yeah, part of that was Sammy. But the other part...

His eyes smoothed over him again, and he just had the overwhelming urge for him to be there. And the thought ran through his mind again that he didn't know that he mattered. Cas was just living (relatively) with the knowledge that Dean didn't care, as if it was the truth.

With a breath, he decided today was the day.

He had given himself time, gotten dressed, sat out on the front porch (it was raining today, he found it kinda calming), and just readying himself.

Now, he was pacing in the kitchen.

"Cas, buddy," he tried like he was running through lines, "-No. Why would I call him buddy? That defeats the whole goddamn purpose."

He sighed, pinching his nose between his fingers, before trying again.

"Cas," he started, trying to think, "-that day. You knew I- Well, you thought you knew I-"

He dragged his palm down his face, groaning. How the hell was he going to do this?

"Fuck it," he decided, he was never going to get it right, "-let's wing it."

Dean let out a big long breath, shaking his hands as if to ready himself. And he really needed to do so.

He deserves to know, he deserves to know, he deserves to know-

"You can do this, Winchester," he mumbled to himself, "-You killed God, what's a damn love confession?"

Love, love, love, chimed through his head.

His stomach churned, but he stayed focused -eyes squeezed shut. Taking a few deep breaths, he stayed silent for a while. Maybe thinking a little too hard in his head, but at this point, there was no use in fighting it.

He deserves to know, he deserves to know, he deserves to know-

Dean let out a shaky breath, and opened his mouth -words slow and particular, "Cas, I don't know if you can hear me or if you're busy-"

Before he could finish another word, a voice called out from behind him.

"Dean," his voice was measured with a sort of lilt (maybe concern).

"Goddammit, Cas," he jumped, flinching, but turning to the angel on instinct, "-you gotta stop doing that."

He skimmed over him a second like he couldn't believe he was real. But he was, and he was standing right in front of him. Before he could say another word though, Cas started searching over him -quickly.

He lifted his arm (grabbing him by the wrist, Dean's brain froze a little), looking for an injury maybe, "Are you alright?"

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"What? Yeah," he blinked the haze out of his eyes, "-yeah, I'm fine, Cas. I'm in Heaven, what could hurt me?"

He furrowed his eyebrows in the way he always did and seemed to take him in a second. Blue eyes looked him over, maybe trying to tell if he was lying or not. (He probably could, if he was.) The way that he looked at him so intently always made him want to squirm, or run away, or make some odd comment.

It was a little relieving to see it now though.

"It's good to see you," Dean spoke without thinking about it. It was the first thing he thought of.

And it was, Cas being here felt like that missing piece was back in place. Perfectly slotted. It was kinda clouding his judgment.

Cas did the head tilt thing that he always did (and Dean let himself think for the first time that it was cute), eyebrows furrowing together. Even if Dean didn't know him well enough, he would've known he was confused.

"It's good to see you too, Dean," he finally spoke, cautiously but still so damn genuine, "-Although, I do wish we met in different circumstances."

Dean laughed a little, and the silence felt like he was being swallowed whole. But he just couldn't open his mouth.

"Dean?" He still said it exactly the same as he did the first day he met him. It made his head spin a little.

He looked at him, wordlessly.

"Why am I... here?"

Dean pushed his lips together, kind of deflecting, "When did you get out?"

Cas looked at him, maybe a little guiltily but still very sound, "Jack got me out... as soon as he had the power to."

"So, what-" he stated, trying to clarify, "-uh, right after Chuck was taken care of? When he snapped everybody back into existence?"

"Yes," Cas answered, "-After he left the two of you, he spoke to the Empty and got me out. It apparently wasn't easy, but..."

Dean but at his lip a little, looking to the ground a second, "So... So, all those weeks I was on Earth, you were out? Alive?"

Cas was just staring at him, mouth pressed into a thin line. Dean saw something shift through his eyes that couldn't really understand.

"And you-" he continued, now a little frustrated, "-you what, you didn't think to at least tell me that?"

"Dean-"

"No, no," he interrupted, "-I thought you were dead, Cas. Gone. And you just didn't want to tell me?"

"That's not," he let out a big long sigh, "-That's not the case, Dean."

"Sure as hell looks like it," he scoffed, and maybe he was frustrated but he couldn't find it in himself to be angry. Not anymore.

"I thought," Cas cleared his throat, maybe a little awkwardly, "-I thought you wouldn't want to see me."

"Why wouldn't I want to see you?" Dean asked, incredulously.

"The last..." he echoed out, like he didn't want to say the wrong thing, "-The last meeting we had wasn't preferable to you. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

He rolled around the thought in his head a second, and all he got was resounding defiance, but he couldn't quite say that yet. His head just kept pounding.

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"Did you-" he started again, searching for answers, "-After the Empty, did you think I was happy?"

Cas looked at him a second, before swinging his eyes to his sleeve almost instinctively (where the bloody handprint would've been), "Not happy necessarily."

"But your damn deal, or whatever," Dean waved his hand dismissively, "-you had to be happy. Completely happy."

"Yes," he answered, inquisitively, "-What is this about, Dean?"

"Cas," he responded, his voice a little shaky (he could see his eyes hitch on it), "-did you think I would care? That I wouldn’t give a damn if you died?"

He pressed his lips together and didn't say a word. Dean thought it was the most telling thing in the world.

His lungs felt like they were tied with rope -he couldn't get a good breath in. Like he was suffocating-

"Really?"

"You looked-" Cas tried to defend himself, "-You looked happy, Dean."

"Yeah," he explained, as if it was obvious, "-because you wanted me to be. And I was trying. For you."

He didn't respond.

"Because what good was a damn sacrifice if I didn't try?"

Cas opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Even though it looked like he was trying, maybe even trying to understand what Dean was expressing. Like he couldn't see it, or didn't believe it.

God, he really doesn't know how much I care?

He posed another question, wringing his hands, "Do you know how I died, Cas?"

"Of course I do, Dean."

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"I've had a lot of time to do some thinking," Dean continued, walking a little in place, "-and I think... No, I know that I did it on purpose."

"Don't say that," Cas spoke, voice heavy with something.

"Sammy wanted to call an ambulance," he continued, looking down at his hands and still walking, "-and I didn't let him."

"And you think-" something smoothed over in his eyes, "-you think you could've survived?"

"Maybe," he offered, "-I guess I don't know, but I... Cas, I didn't try. I didn't fight it. I spent my whole life fighting it, and when it mattered most, I didn't damn fight it."

Cas's face fell a little, some sort of understanding in his eyes, agreement even. It rattled through Dean's bones, and made it a little hard to stand a moment.

"I never thought that I could leave Sammy alone," he continued, and one of his hands racked through his hair, "-I was scared shitless to. But it was so easy to just give up. I wasn't... I wasn't living, Cas. Despite whatever you think in that angel head of yours, I was not damn happy."

Cas just looked at him, eyes flicking between his, trying to understand. He took a second, before replying, "I'm sorry, Dean. I would never want to cause you so much pain."

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

Dean's heart was pounding in his chest. He felt for a second that maybe it would burst through his ribcage like it did in cartoons. It felt damn powerful enough.

His breath caught in his throat, and he felt the urge for to say it. It was on the very tip of his tongue.

"I know, Cas," he deflected (something in his chests stung, coward), "-I know."

Cas just looked at him then, scanning over his face. He could tell there was something else, he looked right into his damn soul every time he looked at him, and there was something else. Dean waited a second, to see if he'd say anything, but he was hit with a resounding no.

Maybe he thought he'd already said enough. Too much maybe. Dean didn't know if he agreed with him or not.

"Cas, I-" he spoke, maybe a little quietly, "-I can't be happy without you. You gotta know that."

He was looking at him more intensely now, still trying to understand it all. Like maybe he couldn't imagine what Dean was trying to say. Or maybe like he couldn't even fathom it.

I love him, I love him, I love him-

"I know you didn't-" he cleared his throat, eyes flickering away (he couldn't look at him right now), "-I know you didn't see me. When you, uh, died, any of the times. But I- I gotta tell ya, I was far from happy."

Cas didn't interrupt him, he just kept looking. Staring. Like every word he said was important.

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

He just kept talking, at this point he could stop (his eyes burned), "I kept your goddamn trenchcoat in Baby the whole time you were..."

He thought maybe for a second he was working himself up, but he couldn't stop now.

"And when Lucifer stabbed you," he pressed his lips together, and swallowed, "-I gave you a hunter's funeral and... and watched your body burn up into flames."

"Dean," Cas spoke, he could maybe see the edge he was teetering on. Maybe he could see that he was going to cry, and that was new. Maybe he was trying to soothe-

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"And then, when the Empty got you," Dean's voice shook a little, "-I stayed there, for a... a while and cried, probably the most I ever have in my life-"

Cas flinched, maybe a little guiltily, "Dean."

"-I couldn't even answer Sam's damn phone call."

He was holding out his hands now, a little like how cops did, in those shows, when the perpetrator had a weapon or was threatening his own life. Cautious, careful. A little like he'd explode. Voice careful and measured, "Dean, I didn't know-"

"I know that, Cas," he interrupted, maybe a little defensively but he couldn't help it, "-I've been beating myself up about it since I realized that I never made it goddamn clear to you that I cared."

"Don't," Cas replied, a little pained, "-There's no need for that, Dean."

"For what? The fact that I didn't- That you didn't-" his words stuttered in his chest, and he just couldn't speak.

"I know now," he tried to soothe, and Dean's head was pounding, "-I know now that you... care. I know."

Care, care, care.

Love, love, love.

I love him, I love him, I love him-

It felt like his heart was in his throat, like everything was waiting to be said. Like it was right there, and he was so close.

"Is that what you wanted to talk about, Dean?"

All he could hear was his heartbeat in his chest, pounding, pounding, pounding-

I love him, I love him, I love him-

God, he didn't want him to leave.

This house was his too, he could just feel it in the walls. There was something missing, there was always something missing. Even when he was alive-

"Dean?"

How long had he wanted this? Wanted more?

I love him, I love him, I love him-

"Dean."

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"Dean, are you alright?"

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

I love him, I love him, I love him-

"Dean," his hands were on his shoulders now (just like before-), "-can you hear me?"

Pounding, pounding, pounding.

I love him, I love him, I love him-

Pounding, pounding, pounding.

I love him, I love him, I love him-

Pounding, pounding, pounding.

"Dean!"

I love him, I love him, I love him-

"Shit, Cas, you can have it!"

Cas looked startled for a moment, but he didn't step away, he didn't let go. Dean's stomach twisted. "What are you-"

"Back, back before the Empty... you said-"

Cas just stared at him, it made Dean want to stop but he couldn't stop-

"-you said, 'The one thing I want, I know I can't have'-"

He just kept talking, and Cas kept staring -something shining in his eyes. Dean thought he knew what.

"-and I'm pretty damn sure that thing was me-"

Cas was looking at him the way he always did, and Dean recognized it for what it was now.

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"-You can have it, Cas," he was speaking softer now, a little out of breath, "-You've... You've always had it. Had... Had me."

Cas was just staring a little in disbelief, dropping his hands, and stepping back a little (it made Dean's heart sting).

I love him, I love him, I love him-

"You don't-" he shook his head, not quite looking at him, "-You don't know what you're saying."

"I'm pretty damn sure I do," he responded, a little biting but there was just so much. It couldn't come out any other way.

Cas stared at him like he was trying to find the confusion, the lie, but he was coming up empty-handed. Wonder why the fuck that is.

"Goddammit, Cas," he pushed his palms into his eyes, "-are you gonna make me say it?"

"Say what?" He asked, like it wasn't obvious. Like he couldn't fathom it. It made Dean's hands shake, and his throat clog up.

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"Damn it, I love you too!"

The silence that filled the room was suffocating, but Dean just needed to breathe-

"And I can't be happy without you," he spoke, eyes still behind his hands (he couldn't look), "-and I want you to goddamn stay for once."

There was another beat.

"With me," and he thought he may have sounded a little pathetic, but he was very much past that point already.

And there was no one here who would ever judge him. Cas would never judge him and he knew that. He knew that like he knew that the sun rises in the morning and falls at night. Cas would never.

Before he knew what was happening, he felt hands pulling back his own -calloused fingertips against his own. Dean's breath hitched in his chest.

He loves me? He loves me? He loves me?

Cas was close now, and before he fully let go, he kept his hands on his face -cradling. And at first Dean thought he might kiss him (which he wasn't sure how to feel about), but he just kept them there.

He was looking at him like he always does (with love) and holding him a little like he was precious maybe, to him. Dean still couldn't understand that, but he thought one day he might be able to. That Cas might help him to.

"Okay, Dean," he spoke, gentle after a long sort of silence, "-I'll stay."

I love him.

He loves me.

#supernatural #castiel #destiel #dean winchester #deancas #spn #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #watchoutwriting #spn finale fix-it #the apple pie life for me (and you)

[watchoutforthefanfics]

Ticking Love Bomb (Part Six) || Eleventh Doctor × gn! Reader

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...

Taglist: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @solitairemvp @idontevenknowwth @this-is-me-lolol @rokosbasalisk @solarbxby

Summary: Your adventure with the Doctor and the Ponds takes a harsh turn when it seems you're targeted with a potion. A love potion, specifically the type where you fall in love with whoever's eyes you met first after "drinking" it. But what if you're already in love with him?

TWS: aliens, space, references to guns, smoke, unrequited love (but not really), self-sacrificial attitudes, and purely oblivious people. Also, just a touch of angst (typical of a love confession).

Your heart halted, as your eyes lost that pink fuzz, and the world around you came to a harsh reality, a tinge echoed through your chest, “That’s not… Don’t say that, that’s not-”

He continued, as if your words hadn’t even been spoken, “You can’t do this to me, Y/N, I love you. How am I supposed to go on withou-”

“S-Stop, that’s not true,” you gulped the words down, as the figures were now much clearer than before -the world was normal, and you felt like you could breathe again. The rosy fuzz dissipates around the edges of your vision, and your heart is silenced.

“It’s terribly cliche,” he professed, a little bit of a chuckle in his tone, “-whoever loves you has to confess. Or, you have to. To the person, you actually love, not just… not the potion.”

“God, you’re-” you exhaled, shaky, “-you’re telling the truth, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he spoke, calmer in tone but you could almost feel his heart on the tip of his tongue -when was the last time he was so open, so honest?

“Amy?” You asked, tone a bit incredulous.

There was a silence for a second, you only assumed before she spoke up, “Yes, he’s… he’s telling the truth.”

“God,” you exhaled, shaky and a bit in disbelief, “-you love me?”

“Human,” the crowd was suddenly much closer than you remembered, eyes laser pointed to your every move, “-answer our questions. It’s best if you cooperate.”

“Y/N?”

Your head was spinning, a bit dazed at the confession, but your survival instincts kept themselves in check, “Y/N, I’m Y/N your… your lab rat, remember?”

The men (you honestly weren’t sure of their… origin) stilled, their weapons pointed at you confidently -unflinchingly. Your hands shook now, a fear instilled in the blood, blowing across your skin like a chill breeze.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” whispered across your brain but you couldn’t quite grasp it, not now.

“Headmistress wishes to keep this one,” one of them spoke as if they were recounting the order -which suddenly made much more sense now. With this new… information.

You were incredible bait, the Doctor loved you. Holy shit, the Doctor loved you.

“Restrain them,” the one near the front ordered, a leader you assumed, “-2407B, unlock the door, we wish to speak to the Doctor. Headmistress has conditions.”

In a blink, you were grabbed by one of them -your arms locked in something like handcuffs, but not quite, it almost appeared magnetic. White and sleek like they were from a sci-fi novel or something. Probably something you couldn’t slip your hands out of, anyway, and the hands set heavily across your shoulders didn’t exactly help matters. You were stilled.

“Emergency override active,” the tone spoke out, robotic, as one of the crowd took their place back -the metal doors that were once snapped shut now opening. And your heart was taking leaps out of your chest, nerves or disbelief you weren’t sure.

The one that had you was towards the back, so you couldn’t see much other than a glimpse of red hair and a fleece jacket.

“Y/N?!” his voice spoke out before faltering to a stop, you assumed because of the crowd, only for a second though, before his tone echoed something dangerous, “-where are they?”

Your heart felt like it was in your throat, as you struggled in the grasp -maybe he could see through the ruckus, and spot you. You just needed to see him, just for a second.

So, you wiggled, and the hands became heavier adding extra pressure to your feet; you sucked in a breath through your teeth at the sting.

“Doctor,” the leader spoke, tone balanced, “-the Headmistress wishes to have your company. It’s impolite to refuse.”

There was a heavy silence then, and you ached to see anything -were they alright?

“I’m not here to negotiate,” he clicked, tone cold and you felt something pass through the air, “-that option vanished when you took someone I love. Where. Are. They?”

Your head spun at the notion, you’d only just learned that after all. A dizzy buzz under your skin that it was true, that the Doctor loved you. He fought this hard for you.

“The human?” the leader asked, tone still even and no shake or even vocal inflection as they spoke, “If we present them, will you cooperate?”

The silence was heavy now, like a standoff on who would produce the next move -who would take the next shot. You wondered often, what made the Doctor so scary to so many, but what you’d seen today had seemed unmatched -this was the Doctor the universe truly knew.

“Yes,” he answered, pointedly, “-let me see them, and then I’ll… speak to your Headmistress. I give you my word.”

The leader seemed to hesitate, a big hulking frame pausing before turning to the back of the group -the crowd dispersing like a sea to you. It was eerie, yes, but you weren’t exactly comfortable back there either; being closer to the Doctor was the best option for yourself. Even just for a few seconds of calm.

You saw Amy first, hand death gripping Rory’s as the weapons pointed their cold tips in their direction - her eyes were puffy and agitated, and you imagined yours were the same. Amy smiled and almost stepped forward to meet you in the middle, but Rory held her firm -he was incredibly conscious of the guns held against them.

Then, you saw the Doctor.

His jaw was clenched, eyes in a hardened stare at the tallest… creature that you’d assumed was in the lead role and he hadn’t looked like he would move his gaze… until the movement of Amy brought his attention to where you were.

Brilliant green eyes met yours, you felt an ease of calm over yourself -even just for a moment.

He scanned you, quickly, before eying the leader again -a conversation between them just in simple gestures that no one else could read. The leader, the creature who looked unlike any of the robots that held you against them, merely looked at the Doctor -his eyebrows furrowed expectantly.

"1254A," he spoke, flicking something out of his wrist -you saw the gleam of metal, "-bring the captive to me, I shall keep watch of them while a meeting is in place."

The creature moved within seconds, scooping you into his arms and the needle -you realized- pierced your skin. Something in it made your head swim.

“What did you do?” The Doctor’s voice all but grumbled out, deep and dark and twisty.

“Just resting, Doctor,” the creature echoed, “-no harm will be done with your cooperation.”

“I don't feel so good,” echoed out of your lips, as your knees buckled, but the alien held you up, “-Doctor, I don't feel good.”

“Y/N-” he softened.

“Let me go with them,” Rory spoke up, “-I'm… I'm a doctor, a nurse really, if I stay with them, I can make sure they stay healthy.”

“Rory, no-” you slurred out, head tilting, “I'll be-”

“We are perfectly capable,” the creature spoke, authoritative -your mind was slowly beginning to fade.

“-Fine,” you finished, eyes slinking shut and head swirling -you fell limp into its arms.

#eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #doctor who #gender neutral y/n #a bit angsty but #it fixes itself #is really sad kinda so #unrequited love but not really #use of y/n #watchoutwriting #ticking love bomb

[watchoutforthefanfics]

my series...

PROCESS TAGS:

⏹️ - discontinued

⏸️ - on a break

▶️ - in progress

⏪️ - being rewritten

✅️ - complete

CONTENT TAGS:

😳 - smut

🫣 - suggestive

💞 - fluff

⛈️ - angst

Never Goodbye // Fandom: It + Reddie ⏸️

Summary: "He paused, turning away from the black holes that were Eddie's eyes, and trying to think of the most passive way he could say something genuine. Without professing his love, or crying, or both. Richie settled down into his bed, tucked under the covers as much as he could and he spoke. A quiet tone that honest-to-god felt unfamiliar in his own mouth. "I…" There was silence, as he refocused. Just knowing Eddie was expecting something. And Richie was never one to let down Eddie, he hoped he never would be. "I don't think there's anywhere else I'd wanna be, Eds." Or Richie tries to get his shit together, so does Eddie, and they both are oblivious as fuck for way too long."

Second Chances // Fandom: It, SPN + Reddie, Destiel ▶️

Summary: "Call me crazy," Dean continued, trailing his fingers on the counter, "-but doesn't this feel like it isn't… for us… to you?" "What do you mean?" "It's…" Dean began, but faltered, "-A completely uninhabited creepy inn? With flickering lights? What does that sound like to you?" "Dean-" Sam sighed. "A horror movie, Sammy," Dean spoke, with playful confidence, "-you can't tell me I'm wrong, because that bell has a spotlight shining on it. And when I touched it-" "You touched it?!" "-nothing happened!" Dean finished, "I think we're in a horror movie waiting around for the main characters." Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dean interrupted, "No, no. Hear me out." Or where Sam and Dean are trapped in a horror movie.

Ticking Love Bomb // Fandom: Doctor Who, Eleventh Doctor x you ▶️

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7...

Summary: Your adventure with the Doctor and the Ponds takes a harsh turn when it seems you're targeted with a potion. A love potion, specifically the type where you fall in love with whoever's eyes you met first after "drinking" it. But what if you're already in love with him?

#watchoutwriting #my series masterlist

[watchoutforthefanfics]

watchoutforthefanfics masterlist

SERIES 📚

ONESHOTS 📖

not all will be may be listed here, I've had this account for a while. Check the tag 'watchoutwriting' for earlier works.

#watchoutwriting #my masterlist

[watchoutforthefanfics]

guys....

what if I tried to continue the It x SPN Crossover...

I know it's been awhile but...

I just read like what some of the ending I wanted to be and just. It's too good to pass up.

It may be slow, but it'll be coming.

#supernatural #watchoutwriting #second chances #it chapter 2 #watchspeaks #watchtalks

[watchoutforthefanfics]

Ticking Love Bomb (Part Five) || Eleventh Doctor × gn! Reader

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...

Taglist: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @solitairemvp @idontevenknowwth @this-is-me-lolol @rokosbasalisk @solarbxby

Summary: Your adventure with the Doctor and the Ponds takes a harsh turn when it seems you're targeted with a potion. A love potion, specifically the type where you fall in love with whoever's eyes you met first after "drinking" it. But what if you're already in love with him?

TWS: aliens, space, references of guns, smoke, unrequited love (but not really), self sacrificial attitudes, and purely oblivious people. Also, just a touch of angst (typical of a love confession).

"Y/N-"

"I always wondered what it was like to travel, you know?" you hummed, sinking against the door, "Before you showed up, in your big blue box, I thought I'd never know it. Not like I wanted to. Not the history, and the reasons they wore silly hats and what was their funniest joke? But then, you came along."

"Don't do this," he exhaled and you could almost feel him on the other side, "-please."

"You've given me so much, Doctor," you continued, the footsteps gaining volume, "-and yet, I still am so selfish."

"Y/N."

"Not only have you given me adventures beyond belief, but you gave me friends… You gave me a home," you exhaled, shakily and lightly trailed your fingertips along the wall, bracing yourself, "-and I love you for it."

There was silence on the other side of the wall, one that only frequented the beating of your heart - it was getting louder and louder now. Echoing in your ears, your hands began to shake as the footsteps grew even louder.

"I'm sorry I had to tell you this way, Doctor," you laughed to yourself, choking on the tears that were bound to spill, "-It's hardly romantic. Knowing you, you'd want it much more romantic. Like, like Rose Tyler, remember?"

"Y/N," he finally spoke, tone soft and a bit angered.

"You don't have to say anything back," you spoke, tears running down your cheeks, "-in fact, I don't want you to."

"That's not fair," the Doctor answered, "-none of this is fair."

You chuckled, sniffling, "Oh, don't I know it."

Your heart was impossibly loud now, the thrum of it beating across your skin, and your lungs vibrating with the sound - he hadn't said much in response. And your heart was confused, whether to focus on his lack of speaking or the nerves that riddled you to the core.

So, you found yourself strung thin -your body feeling an air of self-destruction you hadn't before.

"If…" he spoke, barely a whisper with the softness of his tone, "If it was me, why didn't you just tell me? Why couldn't you just tell me that would be so simple-"

"Doctor, you're a man of the stars," you uttered, the air flooding out of your lungs, "-I doubt a human would make that man happy. And like you said, no reciprocation… I'd die."

The men were now in your sight, eyes set intently on yourself, as you stood back against the heavy metal -at least they had that extra layer. You did what you could.

"Y/N, please listen," he spoke and his tone was shaking and you could hear the drag of the gravel -the tears.

"Take care of yourself, raggedy man."

"Y/N, just let me speak-"

The crowd was in front of you now, you could see the glimmer of their armor in the fluorescent lights glaring down at you. It almost hurt your eyes, but there was a calm deep within yourself -you told him. You did it.

“Don’t do this,” he echoed, voice lighter than before, “-please.”

“Survivor spotted,” a voice echoed down the hall -stoic and calm, “-inform the headmistress immediately.”

“Don’t do this to me.”

You exhaled, trying to focus on the beating in your chest -it was so loud now, you could hardly hear anything else. All you felt though, with the men gaining on you was an air of freedom, your heart open, like your chest had been cracked open and your heart exposed. In a way, that felt welcome -you’d let them prod. As long as he’s okay, you hummed to yourself.

“Y/N, I-” he exhaled in a rush and you could hardly follow until it halted, “-I…”

“Identify yourself.”

You were straining now to hear him, as your heartbeat continued high and strong and the clang of footsteps bounced around your skull. It hurt to focus, it really did. But, you weren’t going to miss a word he said, even on the verge of death.

“I love you too.”

#eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #doctor who #gender neutral y/n #a bit angsty but #it fixes itself #is really sad kinda so #unrequited love but not really #use of y/n #watchoutwriting #ticking love bomb

[watchoutforthefanfics]

Ticking Love Bomb (Part Four) || Eleventh Doctor × gn! Reader

Part 1, 2, 3, 4...

Taglist: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @solitairemvp @idontevenknowwth @this-is-me-lolol @rokosbasalisk

Summary: Your adventure with the Doctor and the Ponds takes a harsh turn when it seems you're targeted with a potion. A love potion, specifically the type where you fall in love with whoever's eyes you met first after "drinking" it. But what if you're already in love with him?

TWS: aliens, space, references of guns, smoke, unrequited love (but not really), self sacrificial attitudes, and purely oblivious people. Also, just a touch of angst (typical of a love confession).

Amy narrowed her eyes at you, stalling a bit behind the wandering Doctor, "Doctor-"

In a breath, she grabbed your arm and pulled you up to the other two. Her mouth in a flattened line, she spoke, "Doctor."

He was spinning around, touching lights and walls, like it'd help him find the TARDIS, and you could kinda hear him muttering. Your brain was fuzzy, so you couldn't exactly make it out, but it still somehow captured your attention. He, however, seemed not to notice Amy.

"Doctor."

He blinked, stopping his spinning and focusing on the two of you, "Amelia?"

"You know what could save them?" Amy asked, her tone harsher than you'd expected but she knew something you didn't.

The Doctor paused, looking between the two of them with a puzzled look, "Of course I do… What are you on about?"

Amy leveled a glare at him, and you felt something shift there. As the Doctor seemed to read her face, he backed up slightly before his face contouring into something less familiar to you, "Amelia, no."

You furrowed your brows, "What's-"

"Doctor," she spoke, "-all you have to do is-"

"Pond," he spoke, his tone more abrupt than you'd known, "-stop it."

"No," she countered and her grip tightened slightly on your arm, "-no, I won't because it really is that simple-"

"Amelia."

"-and if you just stopped being an arse, you would see it! It's been right in front of you-"

"Amelia."

"-you just need to say it. That's all you have to do-"

Before the Doctor could respond, or Amy could even finish, red lights started shining down the hallways -glaringly bright.

On top of that, the intercom buzzed to life, "It has been brought to my attention that the stowaways are still aboard. Due to this… neglect, I've decided to up the protocol. Change the search to I09-65, and I want priority on our little test dummy. Stay alert."

Your eyes darted among the now-limited doorways, and the shine of red light gleamed across the metal.

"That can't be good," Rory spoke, hand tightly laced with Amy's free one -since she was still latched to your side

"She's…" you opened your mouth, "-She's after me, isn't she?"

The Doctor paused, eyeing you with the most gentle of gazes like you would snap in the wind if he said anything too harsh.

"Y/N-"

"No," you hummed, shaking your head, "-you can't tell me otherwise, Doctor… If all she wants is me-"

"That's not-" the Doctor huffed, "-stop."

"It would let you guys get away," you answered, voice steady, "-even just for a second longer."

"Not happening."

His tone was stern, the kind that you imagine rumbled through streets, and you saw it then, the Doctor's fierce loyalty. What some would call 'the Oncoming Storm', but this time… it was directed at you.

"Doctor, I'm just-" you exhaled, shakily, "-you don't have a plan. They experimented on me, right? They want to see some results. They wouldn't just kill me because-"

"They would," he snapped, tone harsh and something in your chest hitched, "-and they will."

Rory added, a little bit unheard honestly, "It's really not safe, Y/N."

Amy nodded, her hand tightening on your arm as if that could stop you.

"So, all of us getting captured is safe? You don't- Ugh, okay, listen, I will be a distraction -it gives you some time to find the TARDIS-"

"Y/N," he exhaled heavily through his nose, "-We can do that with you."

"No," you shook your head, tears heavy in your voice, "-you can't, Doctor. Look around you- all the doors are sealing, and you can hear the march of footsteps."

"So, what?" Amy answered, her hand leaving your side in exasperation, "We will find the TARDIS either way, you don't need to-"

There was a chance there, as all of them fretted -the Doctor's eyes set stony, Rory's hands wringing nervously, and Amy pacing as she spoke. 

The silver doors behind everyone were seeping to a close, the door where the thrum of patterned footsteps leaked through. It was good for them, having intergalactic steel, or whatever it was, between them and the enemy.

But, you knew something that was better than that.

In a breath, you shot through the group, fingers grazing upon his tweed jacket just for a second longer. 

How did you pull the Indiana Jones move? You'd never know.

Sliding through on your knees, you were firmly on the other side of the door and if you focused enough, you could hear them.

"Y/N!" 

"Why did you-"

"We're not leaving you, dumbass."

It was muffled by the thick metal-like substance and the seal evidently shut.

Wait, their room was completely sealed too. And it was incredibly small, maybe built to be like sanitization access between areas, just based on the connection. Fuck.

How would you even-

You heard the footsteps become louder and you could swear your hands were shaking and your heart was beating out of your-

Beating out of your chest.

"Doctor," you said, back up against the metal, "-can you get out of the other side?"

"You can't just slide through the door and just-"

"Can you force the door open, Doctor? Answer me."

There was a pause, and a heavy sigh, his voice got farther away, "With time, yes. But we don't have that. I'd have to-" he sputtered, "I'm going to need some extra power for the sonic, there's probably an energy core nearby, but we're sealed."

"So, if you had more power, you'd-"

"Hypothetically, yes," he cut you off, and you could practically hear the frantic combing through his hair, the familiar pace of his shoes echoing in your brain, "-but I wouldn't be able to access one, I'd have to search the whole ship- It’s just not-"

"Okay, okay," you hummed, "-I get it. You're sealed in, and need a way out."

"We need you to not separate yourself," Amy sliced back, tone unnervingly calm.

"Hush, Amy," you exhaled, "I think… I think I've got a plan."

"Could," you paused, "Could the sonic draw power from an explosion?"

"An explosion?" He parroted back, tone confused for a moment, "-where are you going to get an explosion? There's no-" his voice faded to silence.

"Y/N, no, don't even think about it," he spoke his tone direct, and yet as the footsteps roamed closer…you still felt compelled.

This was what a companion of the Doctor was supposed to do, right? Protect the raggedy man, just like he protected you. He hated it, but it didn't mean it was any less true.

"Doctor," you spoke, tone a touch shaky and voice a little spent, "-I need to tell you something."

#eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #doctor who #gender neutral y/n #a bit angsty but #it fixes itself #is really sad kinda so #unrequited love but not really #use of y/n #watchoutwriting #ticking love bomb

[watchoutforthefanfics]

Ticking Love Bomb (Part Three) || Eleventh Doctor × gn! Reader

Part 1, 2, 3...

Taglist: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @solitairemvp @idontevenknowwth

Summary: Your adventure with the Doctor and the Ponds takes a harsh turn when it seems you're targeted with a potion. A love potion, specifically the type where you fall in love with whoever's eyes you met first after "drinking" it. But what if you're already in love with him?

TWS: aliens, space, references of guns, smoke, unrequited love (but not really), self sacrificial attitudes, and purely oblivious people. Also, just a touch of angst (typical of a love confession).

A/N: This is a lil angsty so be ready!!! Enjoy :)]]

The silence was loud after those words had been spoken.

"What?" Amy scoffed, her voice a little teary.

"Seconded," Rory responded, eyebrows drawn and looking to the Doctor for any sort of answer.

"There's a cure," he interrupted, leveling a look at you, and you knew that look, "-and we're going to get it."

"Doctor-" you began, a tone of knowing, "-we can't trust on something we're not even sure of."

"Y/N," he tsked, eyes concentrated on you.

You exhaled, shaking your head, "Let's just… work on getting off the ship."

"Wait, you can't just-" Rory began, turning flippantly towards the Doctor and yourself, "-what's going on here?"

Amy pursed her lips, "There's something you're not telling us."

"Amelia," he began following your steps through the halls, "-now's really not the time."

"When is, then?"

"Amelia."

"Doctor, you can't just… What if-"

You looked at her, eyes conveying a note you knew she would understand, "Amy, please."

She looked at you, in the way your hands slightly shook, and the way your eyes flickered to the Doctor. She knew, she always had -despite the fact of you never confessing.

Not out loud.

Her hair swished, as she looked at him (preoccupied with a door code) and nudged towards him. There was a shade in your eyes, just one, you wanted her to know.

"It's about love, isn't it?"

Rory raised a brow, eyeing the space between you and the Doctor with a look you'd find offensive if you weren't in the situation you were in. Almost dead, that is.

The Doctor froze, the fidgeting freezing for a moment -like he was taken aback, before moving again and with a curt tone, "Yes."

"Look," he made his way to you, talking to the group, "-this ship is war-grade, intergalactic war-grade, my sonic can only do so much. The first order is to find the TARDIS, her presence is spotty on the sonic- I think they're suppressing her."

"What does that mean?" Rory asked, as he always did.

He stood right in front of you, eyes scanning your face, and without a second thought, placed his hand on your forehead. Rough fingertips and the smell of old bookshelves overwhelmed your senses, and the pink fuzz started up again.

"You're warm," he spoke, flickering between your eyes in concern, before pulling back his hand.

Not too far though, he gently wrapped his fingers around your wrist -checking your pulse, "They want me stuck here. That's my running theory, at least."

"Not all of us?" You asked, your voice a little wobbly, and resisting the urge to wipe your eyes - the pink was getting blurry.

He looked up, "No, they want me."

"So," Amy questioned, eyeing the two of you with a look, "-why target Y/N if you're the one they want here?"

"Y/N's situation," he turned, making his way down halls with precision, "-They could die. Why try and run a risk with a target you want alive?"

Your eyebrows drew together, "So-"

Rory interrupted, face filled with things you couldn't quite understand, "They're using you to get to him."

"But, you're already here," you responded, "Why am I a lure if you're already here?"

"Because they're not using you," the Doctor explained, tone exhausted, "-they're using your death."

"What?" Amy muttered, before rising, "They planned on killing you, to get the Doctor on their side? That's-"

"No," he exhaled, "-They want my… my power, my anger from it. They want to use me as a-"

You answered, "As a weapon."

"The Oncoming Storm," the Doctor answered, his tone solid and uninterested, a tinge of distaste, "-living as long as I have, you get quite a reputation. That's not one I'm particularly fond of."

"But," you began, unable to stop yourself, "-why go after me specifically? Weren't Amy and Rory trapped too, why not go for us all?"

Then, he looked at you. In a way of gentle eyes, curiously analyzing, almost like he was trying to say something to you without actually saying it.

"They must know something we don't," He finished, clearing his throat and abruptly turning back around.

Amy looked at you like you had just missed something, and you heavily assumed you had.

The search down the endless hallways persisted, metal walls blending into other metal walls until you couldn't see straight anymore. Your head was hurting.

Normally, a migraine was typical with stress -you'd always learned to deal with it throughout your trips with the Doctor- but this one… it felt odd.

The pink fuzz had started up again, but less of a, well, fuzz and more of a pink film over your eyes. A tinge of pink over everywhere you looked, and suddenly the whole place seemed a whole lot safer -more relaxing.

It really just… smelt like roses.

"Y/N?" Rory spoke, you recognized him somehow in your daze, he seemed to follow your eye movement, "Guys, hold on. They're almost… lethargic."

Amy was in your sights now, concern shining bright in her features, "Why? What's-"

"Their heartbeat," the Doctor (god, when did his voice get so deep) spoke, a bit frantic but at a contrasting commanding tone, "-Rory, check their pulse."

"It's slow, far, far too slow," he answered, a cold sensation on your neck where he'd gotten it from on slightly gave you back your senses.

"You all are quite pretty, you know," you spoke, at least you tried to -it might've just come out as a jumble of words.

'Too slow,' you heard, '-organs… not getting enough-'

'Their brain?'

Your hearing was fading in and out -which only made you more disoriented, and the only thing keeping you standing was a pair of firm hands on your shoulders.

"-so what? Just try it Doctor, I'm not saying it means anything, it's just… a hunch."

"Amelia-"

"What else have we got right now? Man up, before they quite literally cannot breathe anymore!"

"Rory, can you-"

"Doctor, they're dying. If the curse has conditions, I don't see why n-"

"Fine."

Your nose was filled with the smell of worn books, and a hint of metallic -kind of like finding a stack of books in your garage. And on your hands were rough fingertips, calloused from working so hard, squeezing tightly around your own. On your forehead, there was a dusting of breath, warm, until a soft connection was made there, smooth and you could somehow feel so much out of it. An appreciation and admiration that sent goosebumps up your arms, it felt so… freeing.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the headache subsided, "Ugh. What was that about?"

You looked up, and there he was. He was incredibly close and slightly taller than you. Or at least in this angle, anyway.

His face was just so… human, and yet, you honestly couldn't read a single emotion. The only thing you knew was the pull of his eyebrows, and that was… concern, curious, something- maybe both?

With a few fluttering blinks, he pulled back, hands retreating like they had been burnt.

Your heart tinged and felt like a few strings snapped inside your chest. Your breath hitched, at the muted pain and you wondered what exactly that meant.

If... your heart broke, you'd die, right? Was that... Were you...

You took a deep breath.

#eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #doctor who #gender neutral y/n #a bit angsty but #it fixes itself #is really sad kinda so #unrequited love but not really #use of y/n #enjoy part one #watchoutwriting #ticking love bomb

[watchoutforthefanfics]

my oneshots...

CONTENT TAGS:

😳 - smut

🫣 - suggestive

💞 - fluff

⛈️ - angst

Curse of the Companion // Fandom: Doctor Who, Eleventh Doctor × you || ⛈️

Summary: anon request "the reader deals with the consequences of being the doctor's companion and unrequited love."

My John // Fandom: Doctor Who, Eleventh Doctor x you || ⛈️, 💞

Summary: At the news of an unknown distress call from the Tardis, the Doctor must go undercover. With the trust of thousands of years, he places himself (both watch and being) into your hands. Enter Dr. John Smith (not really a medical doctor just has his doctorate) your new roommate.

the apple pie life for me (and you) // Fandom: SPN, Destiel || ⛈️, 💞

Summary: 'One minute, Castiel is confessing his love as he sacrifices himself, so Dean can live. The next, Dean is dead, and Castiel's avoiding him in Heaven. Or maybe Dean's avoiding him. Dean has probably never been more confused in his life, feelings for his best friend and all.'

Available on Ao3

#watchoutwriting #my masterlist #my oneshots masterlist

[watchoutforthefanfics]

writing this fic idea by @deanskitchen, and preparing by listening to Seventeen Going Under by Sam Fender.

Channeling some unhinged anger, wish me luck!!

#studies of sam winchester #sam winchester #anti john winchester #supernatural #watchoutwriting

[watchoutforthefanfics]

Just uploaded chapters to my two wips!!

Check the link in my pinned if you're interested!

#second chances #never goodbye #reddie #destiel #watchoutwriting