#unrequited love but not really

[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.”

[marcskywalker]

even if it's a lie, let me hear it once

Chapter 1

He catches Merlin staring at him sometimes; when they're riding through the woods for one thing or another, when he's training on the grounds, when he's sitting through a verbal beatdown at dinner.

He catches Merlin linger by his side. Though this, he is not too sure of. He tries to keep count when Merlin's hand warms the small of his back. But his heart flutters and he stumbles over the number as Merlin straightens out the shirt.

Wishful thinking, Arthur. he reminds himself, that's all it is.

He meets Sophia when he least expects it.

Dear God, Sophia.

How he ever lived before her is a mystery. He knows it in his bones that he loves her so deeply and would go to any end for her.

She is his only source of happiness and he would die before he lets any harm come to her.

But when she presses her lips against his, he feels dirty. Repulsive. His skin itches like he was meant to be someone else's.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He almost dies. And he almost dies. And he is almost sure he is going to die.

The druid boy, he is sure, was worth the risk of punishment for treason.

Death by a dead knight would've been nothing honorable or remarkable.

This would be honorable though, if he were to die fighting for Merlin Ealdor. As long as the history books don't mention his crush, that is.

"Whatever happens out there, I don't want you to think of me differently."

Arthur has to choke down the bubbling laughter. As if. Short of dying, there is nothing Merlin could do that'll change how Arthur's heart skips a beat for him.

But... the thought makes Arthur pause. Why would Merlin be worried about that at a time like this. For the first time in his life, Arthur wants to talk. No propriety or honorifics. He wants to know if Merlin is simply worried about his master's opinion or something else, entirely.

What if he were to die today, and Merlin never knew that he was liked?

"It's alright, Merlin. It's normal to be scared before battle." he says instead.

"That's not what I meant," Merlin's solemn face, as rare a sight that is, sobers him up.

Did he mean....

Could it be....

If this is what Arthur hopes thinks it is, his father would never approve. Oh, but Arthur would. Arthur would approve of it so much.

"What is it," give me a hint, I beg of you, "If you have something to say, Merlin, now is the time."

He tries to put as much love and acceptance on his face in hopes that Merlin would just stop clenching his jaw.

Come on, Merlin. Take a leap. You won't be let down.

Just as Merlin's about to speak-

"Arthur, it's time."

The bloody harpy!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arthur gives him space to grieve Will. Though a sorcerer, he was Merlin's best friend.

He peels himself away from Merlin's side; away from the God awful sound of his sobs.

Wishful thinking, Arthur. he reminds himself, that's all it is.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He almost dies a couple of times again. Such is life.

He tries to put the whole "Merlin situation" behind him. Determined to forget. It's just not meant to be.

He almost courts Gwen, but then Lancelot happens again. And he won't fault her for it since he has half a mind to court Lancelot himself.

Maybe it's something about him; it's just not meant to be.

It's nothing to make much of a fuss. He's glad he has them in his life at all.

He's grateful, even.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Magic or not; he killed his mother. At least with the former, he had the excuse to be angry at his father. The sorcerer lies though, turns out the burden is his to bear alone.

"Arthur," he stops him before the his bed, "let's get you out of this."

He tugs at the armor straps with more care than usual. Arthur is sure that Merlin is back with the staring. He doesn't count the touches; not anymore and especially not at the moment when he barely feels deserving of being alive let alone loved.

"Whatever you're thinking of," Merlin's voice is soft as he moves Arthur onto the bed, "It's not true.

You're a good son."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dragon is looming above them when he realizes this.

The "Merlin situation" is, in fact, not behind him.

It has come forth with a vengeance.

Well, how could it not. It's Merlin and he has, for wildly unknown reason, decided to be loyal to Arthur beyond what he deserves.

Not only is he back to counting the staring and the touching; now he counts Merlin's laughs and his approvals (of all things, really). His day is lighter when Merlin is happy and smiling about. The days when Merlin doesn't retort to his snark is.... frustrating, to say the least.

The dragon bares its teeth when he prays for the first time.

Dear God, don't let any harm come to him. I'll give my life for his.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There is to be feast in his honor. For the courage and bravery he showed by defeating the dragon.

He doesn't feel courageous walking beside Merlin. He feels like a fool with sweaty palms that wants and doesn't want to have this conversation.

It's long overdue, Arthur he reminds himself as they enter his chambers.

He's defeated a dragon. What's one more act of bravery.

"Merlin, I- We- No, I- I have something to say."

Merlin is suspicious already, looking at Arthur with wide eyes.

"What is it?" It's that rare soft voice. The one that understands this isn't the time for their usual banter.

"We should sit," he drags two chairs, stalling for the last time, "I will say it, and don't interrupt me. I just- I- No, this needs to be said and-"

"Arthur, are you dying?" Merlin's eyes are so wide it's almost comical to him.

"I just said don't interrupt," he shakes his head fondly, trust Merlin to never obey. Merlin's eyes are still wide and overflowing with concern that Arthur can't help but reassure him, "No! I'm not dying.

It's just something I've wanted for a long time, and- I wasn't going to say anything, really. I know this is difficult. And I will accept that you don't feel the same, Merlin, I promise. This doesn't change anything. It's just-" he has no courage, none at all, to face Merlin. So, he studies the shades of his floor as he confesses.

"It's just that I couldn't let either of us die without you knowing that I love you."

There is silence. And then even more of it. He risks a glance at Merlin who looks confused. He sees the moment his words sink in though, since he exploded out of the chair, knocking it over in the process.

"No. You don't."

What.

"I do!"

"Nope." he points a stern finger at Arthur, face lined with anger, "You don't."

"I do! What is wrong with you?" he can't help the crack in his voice. That was a losing game from the start, "I told you, Merlin. I understand you don't feel the same-"

"What is wrong with you?" he's at Arthur's face now, inches away (so different to how Arthur would dream of it), fuming, "Why would you ever love your manservant?!"

Something cracks inside Arthur's chest. This isn't what he wanted. He was supposed to be let down gently, with the promise of cherished friendship.

"Surely, you know you're more than that." it's barely a whisper, he wonders if Merlin heard him.

"Arthur," he's not yelling anymore, but it's just as strong, "You. Don't. Love. Me."

He leaves him there and the tears come out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

please don't let him love me. please don't let him love me. please don't let him love me. please don't let him love me. please don't-

[jikooily]

the angst in this is so heavy my entire body was burning up the entire time. i almost had to take off all my clothes… IT WAS SO SERIOUS. but the ending was so rewarding 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

the habits of a broken heart.

☾ genre : soulmates au, unrequited love, art student!JK, english student!Y/N, angst, fluff, subtle enemies to lovers

☾ pairing : jeon jungkook x reader

☾ summary : jungkook and you are soulmates. so says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. however, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak. 

alternatively,

“You still are, you know. Worth it.” You release a shaky breath. “But I was stupid to think that I am too.”

☾ word count: 26.3k (my biggest one yet!)

☾ author’s note: this took forever oh my gosh! i really hope you like it! it’s my first time writing such a big single piece, and trying a different style. thank you so much for your support, always! please let me know what you think ♡

Keep reading

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The squad of all time has arrived on scene.

[popcorn-plots]

Febuwhump day 28: "No... not like this."/Alt -- last words

Title: love's farewell

Words: 500

Summary: Wong finally confesses his feelings for Stephen... just as he's dying in the man's arms.

~~~

It was a fight. It was always a fight. They had lost so many sorcerers to fights over the years. Stephen always grieved for his Sorcerers, but it was never personal. Stephen likened it to the passing of an estranged uncle. Sad, but life moved on (he knew it was heartless, he knew that he should care more, but something stopped him. He didn't know them all personally, but he still cared for them). Stephen never fully understood the pain of loosing your closest friend, the man you loved, until it was his sorcerer was dying, until his sorcerer was bleeding out in his lap, and Stephen could do nothing about it.

Wong had gotten stabbed. Impaled. A piece of rebar from a nearby building, nearly the length of Stephen's forearm, jutting out from his chest. Stephen watched in slow motion as Wong staggered, then fell. The rebar fell with him, snapping in half when they hit the ground. And then blood -- so much blood.

Stephen shouted something unintelligible and was at Wong's side in an instant. Wong tried to get up, but the rebar had nearly severed his arm at that point and the blood dripping down his side kept him from pushing himself off the ground.

An explosions sounded behind him at he knelt down besides his friend, but Stephen paid no attention. All his focus was on Wong.

"Wong--" He gasped.

Wong looked up, the awareness already fading from his eyes. In one look, Stephen promptly forgot everything he learned in med school about how to deal with trauma patients. All he could do was pull Wong into his lap and cry. There was too much blood outside his body to even think about saving him.

"Stephen.." Wong whispered. "You're pretty."

Stephen offered a watery laugh. "You're pretty too. Now shh, save your strength. We'll get someone too--" He looked up. Everyone was busy, paying the Sorcerer Supreme no mind. "Someone's coming to help you."

"You're a doctor. You save people." Stephen's smile wavered.

"I can't save you…"

"Hm. You always save me." Wong slurred.

"I have?" Stephen had a sinking feeling, he knew where this was going to go.

"Yeah, b'cause I love--"

"No. Stop. Wong, please, not like this. You can tell me later, when you wake up! We're going to get you to the infirmary and you'll be fine--"

A gentle hand stopped his ramblings. It was warm, slick with blood, but soft. He looked down to see the most loving smile he had ever seen on the older man. "Stop lying to me, Stephen. You know better than that."

Stephen didn't even pretend to smile or laugh. "I know…" he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I know…"

"I love you Stephen Strange."

Stephen swallowed a sob. "Please.. don't--"

Wong smiled and patted his cheek. "I love you."

Stephen craddled Wong's head to his chest as his eyes went dim. "I love you too… oh Vishanti, I loved you so much-- Please… don't leave me…"

Ao3

[troyandabedsnewapartment]

I DON’T KNOW HOW TO LOVE YOU AND I DON’T KNOW HOW TO STOP LOVING YOU.

1. unknown. | 2. ethel cain, strangers | 3. Melissa broder, skeleton glitter | 4. mitski, a pearl | 5. maggie nelson, bluets | 6. molly brodak, molly brodak | 7. rio romeo, nothing’s new | 8. becca de la rosa & maybell martin, mabel: matryoshka | 9. mitski, humpty

[faiell]

inspired by a scene from this heaven of mud by @garagepaperback

Sitting near but far, legs spilled off the edge of the bed, Potter turned to look at him. There were two wide windows on either side of the bed, drapes drawn back. The lights in Draco’s bedroom were off but it didn’t matter, the flat being in the city. Draco learned it was called light pollution- It meant you couldn’t see the stars. It meant it was much harder not to see what was right in front of you.

Potter looked beautiful. It should have ended months ago, preferably before it started.

[drulalovescas]

When a cosmic entity tells you your boyfriend doesn't love you back

[scruncheduppaper]

GABRIEL: JUDGE OF HELL

(A practice sketch that accidentally turned into a whole thing)

[flwrkid14]

Falling for the One You Can’t Have

Jason had never been one to catch feelings easily, especially not in Gotham’s mess of a world where life moved too fast, too unpredictably. But it started small—just another rescue, another guy in the wrong place at the wrong time. A witty joke here, a grateful smile there, and soon, Jason found himself seeking out the boy who seemed to be Gotham’s favorite target for muggings and kidnappings.

Danny, the guy with a laugh that rang through the night and eyes that always sparkled with a mischievous glint, had become a small, unexpected light in Jason’s world. Sure, Jason wasn’t some lovesick idiot—he told himself that constantly. But each time he saved Danny, the witty banter and the easy way they fell into conversation made him feel something more. Slowly but surely, the small crush grew.

He started to look forward to bumping into Danny, even if it was because of yet another mugging or hostage situation. Jason would stick around for a little longer after each rescue, tossing casual remarks, feeling his heart beat a little faster every time Danny laughed at one of his jokes. The thought of asking Danny out had crossed his mind more than once, but it wasn’t like he’d ever had great luck with relationships. Maybe he’d try, though—eventually. He just needed to figure out how to do it without making things awkward.

Then Tim called for a family dinner.

Jason wasn’t exactly thrilled about it. Family dinners weren’t his scene to begin with, and the fact that Tim insisted this one was important only made him more reluctant. But, Tim was family, and it wasn’t like Jason was doing anything else that night. So he dragged himself there, expecting the usual chaos of a Wayne family gathering.

When he arrived, Jason immediately felt something was different. Tim had this weird glint in his eye, like he was excited about something. That was never good. Jason kept his usual distance, sitting near the back, arms crossed, trying not to be annoyed by whatever announcement Tim was about to make.

But then Tim stood up, calling everyone’s attention to the middle of the room. “Hey, thanks for coming, everyone. I have someone I want to introduce to you all. He’s really important to me and has been for a while now.” Jason perked up a little, curiosity getting the better of him. That’s when Tim said it: “This is Danny, my boyfriend.”

Jason felt the floor drop out from under him.

And there, standing beside Tim, was Danny—his Danny, the guy Jason had been saving, the one he’d been building up the courage to ask out. He looked just as charming and witty as ever, smiling brightly at everyone. Jason couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. All he could do was watch as Danny wrapped an arm around Tim and introduced himself to the rest of the family.

It felt like a punch to the gut.

Jason tried to steady his breathing, his hands clenched under the table. He couldn’t break down here, in front of everyone. He had to be cool, calm—just like always. But inside, his heart was shattering. How long had they been together? How had he not known?

When Danny’s gaze met Jason’s, his eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh hey! You’re Red Hood, right? You’ve saved me a bunch of times—thanks for that! I swear, I’m a total danger magnet. Usually Tim’s around to keep me out of trouble, but he’s been busy with Wayne Enterprises stuff lately, so it’s nice to have someone else watching my back.”

Jason nodded numbly, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah, no problem,” he mumbled, his throat tight.

It was worse than Jason could have imagined. Danny had been saving all his love for Tim—Tim, of all people. His younger brother, the one Jason was supposed to protect, the one who had swooped in and taken the one person Jason had allowed himself to care about. Not that Tim knew, of course. No one knew. And Jason couldn’t blame him—he couldn’t blame anyone.

As the dinner progressed, Jason tried to tune out the couple’s affectionate gestures. The way Danny laughed at Tim’s jokes, the soft touches between them, the way they looked at each other like no one else in the world mattered. Each moment felt like a knife twisting deeper into Jason’s chest.

He actively avoided joining in on any conversation with them, keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact. He couldn’t bear to see the love in Danny’s eyes when he looked at Tim, knowing that it would never be directed at him. That dream—the one where Jason had imagined maybe asking Danny out, maybe finding some happiness for himself—it was gone. Shattered.

All Jason could do now was smile through the pain, pretend everything was fine, and show his support for Tim. For both of them. Because that’s what family did, right?

But deep down, it hurt like hell.

Jason excused himself as soon as he could, slipping away from the table before the dinner had even finished. He couldn’t stand to see the two of them any longer. Once outside, he let out a shaky breath, leaning against his motorcycle and staring at the sky.

Jason was always the one saving people. But this time, there was no one to save him from the aching void in his chest.

[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."

[abyssal-ilk]

funniest thing to me is that if you're romancing sera and you ask solas what gift to give her for her romance quest, he gets disapproval. like why are you being such a little hater rn

[three-realms-archive]

Just a Study

Content Warning: Spoilers for Lesson 40 of Nightbringer! Everything above the cut is spoiler-free!

The wise sorcerer watches his dear apprentice sleep peacefully, unaware of their close friend and mentor doing what he does best. Studying.

His eyes analyse the rise and fall of their chest, tracing his gaze over and across the parabolas that make up the shape of their sleeping form. The small chuckles that escape him when you snore and snort are sounds that you will never get to hear. The soft, unprecedented flushes of crimson across his cheeks when you nuzzle your forehead deeper into the crook of his neck is a sight you will never get to see. Yet your sounds, sights and touch… Solomon knows all of it. He knows the mean, median and mode of the number of hours you sleep at night; and he spends the midnight hours flipping through tomes dedicated to understanding love. To Solomon, this was all a study, really.

A study on how it would have been, if he had taken the time to know his fellow, human classmate from the get-go. How it would have been if he had taken you under his wing sooner - if he had won the race for your heart against the Seven Avatars of Sin. The data was there, in the form of the pact marks etched into your skin - placed there like perfect puzzle pieces. And no matter how much his brain wanted to process that data differently, the results and conclusion would remain unchanged.

To conduct a study, one must try to match the conditions of the experiment to the assumptions of the theory. Solomon knew this, and so he had strived to make Coctyus Hall your new House of Lamentation. He had lived with you - had eaten with you - had even slept beside you. He knew that you (more often that he liked) had shared a bed with each of the brothers before - so he had done that, too. He had taken your trip to the past as an opportunity to replicate the theory with ease, piecing together a domestic life with you that felt like bliss.

The perfect study.

It was meant to be the perfect study. For him and you.

So why?

Why did it hurt so bad, returning to the original timeline; and seeing how… easily, you fell back into your own life?

Why did it hurt, seeing you live, eat and sometimes even sleep alongside the brothers again?

Why did it hurt, sleeping beside you in your old room, when he had already shared a bed with you many times now? It hurt being with you, in this bed made for one, the pillows and blankets and your shifting form taking up room and pushing him out. Telling him that he didn’t belong next to you.

… The wise sorcerer watches his dear apprentice sleep; studying. He presses his lips gently to your temple and savours the familiar warmth that greets him, fondly. He selfishly, childishly, hooks an arm and a leg around you; entangling himself in you as you had done many times before with him. He easily finds your hand through touch alone under a blanket colder than the one you used to share; struggling to intertwine his fingers with yours properly. But he grips your hand like a lifeline when he manages to. He’s got the lines of your palm and the creases of the skin of your wrists memorised. With a small, shaky breath, Solomon uses his thumb to trace over them again, and again, and again. Studying.

It was just a study, right? A ‘what if’.

Just a study, with a simple title.

What if, for a while, he pretended you loved him?

A study compares the theoretical with the experimental. Compares the ideal with harsh, painful, hurtful reality.

You belonged with the brothers. They were your ideal.

… And his brief, domestic, blissful experiment with you was now over.

(i had started writing this before seeing that angest was ruling the poll, lol. but yayyyyyy i wanna start writing angst and romance with the characters i haven’t touched on yet, so have an angst solomon, set after lesson 40 of nightbringer)

[yashley]

imogen & fearne in c3e106

[pampushky]

Foot of The Gallows

trafalgar d. water law/reader - friends to enemies to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, manipulation (not by law)

ao3 link | masterlist | ask away

Trafalgar D. Water Law is a surgeon centuries ahead of his time and is set to be put to death for alleged witchcraft and dark magic, although there’s little evidence besides the fact that his patients all seem to survive, and the pale white splotches that dapple his skin, marking his face with the pattern of a skull. You’re a former childhood friend, now bittered with age and arguments, simply trying to make your living as an apothecary, wanting nothing to do with the man you had once been joined at the hip with. What happens when his closest friend manages to convince you to save his life by invoking a little-used law, saved only for cases where the justice system has failed?

You marry the man you utterly detest, that’s what happens.

Chapter Directory

sunshroom

thunder root

numbing nettle

snowdrop iris

lion's bane

willow tears

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 38

Jaskier has kept a secret for years. The ring with dandelions carved into it that he wears every second of every day is the only thing keeping him from turning into ash. He sleeps with a lovely woman one night, desperately trying to move on from Geralt (it doesn't work, he is still very much in love with his best friend) only to awake in the morning and find- FUCK She stole his ring! That conniving little-! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What does he do!? He races to the mirror and it confirms his worst fear. The glamour the ring gives him is gone. He can't see his reflection. He reaches a hand up to his mouth and feels his fangs. No- Nonono! Then his worst fucking nightmare ON TOP of his worst nightmare happens. He hears the stomping footsteps of a witcher approaching their room. Godsdamn it all. He hears the doorknob jiggle and.. Alright, he'll be the first to admit it, he panics. "DON'T COME IN, GERALT" The doorknob jiggling pauses. "Jaskier? Are you alright?" "Y- YES! Perfectly peachy! Don't come in!" Jaskier rushes around the room, pacing in panicked circles like a caged beast. He was a caged beast. He reaches to close the curtains of the only window in the room and like an idiot, he fumbles in place and ends up with his hand in the direct sunlight. He shrieks in pain and holds his hand to his chest. Geralt, scenting agony and hearing Jaskier yell, barges in without another moment of thought. Only to see Jaskier scrambling away from him in fear. In all his years of knowing Jaskier, he has NEVER been afraid of him. It physically pains Geralt to see it now. He doesn't understand why he wasn't allowed in. There's no lover of Jaskier's hiding in a corner embarrassed at being caught, Jaskier isn't indecent or anything, so why-? Then he looks at Jaskier, truly looks at him, and sees his blue eyes are glowing, and his mouth - Parted open as he pants - reveals fangs. Geralt's eyes dart to Jaskier's neck and it's confirmed. The worst part of it all, is the way Jaskier's eyes keep glancing between the door out of the room, and Geralt's silver sword. Geralt is infuriated. Not only did the woman Jaskier take to bed last night turn Jaskier into a vampire, but she also made Jaskier fear Geralt because of it. When Geralt says he isn't going to harm (let alone KILL like Jaskier had feared) Jaskier for the twentieth time, Jaskier finally believes him, and begs him to help him track the woman down. Geralt is intent on killing the vampire that ruined poor young human Jaskier's life. Jaskier is intent on getting his human-glamour, sunlight-immunity-enchantment ring back from this human he slept with, so he can go back to pretending he's human, like he has been doing for the past hundred or so years.