yu-winchester

[yu-winchester]

how to disappear. (opla!zoro x fem!reader)

synopsis: joining luffy’s crew made you believe that you’d finally escaped your former pirate crew and nightmare of a captain for good. that is, until a certain butler starts looking a little too familiar. good thing zoro’s keeping a close eye on you.

warnings: opla spoilers (ep 3), some direct dialogue from opla, mentions of verbal/physical abuse, kuro is just a weirdo tbh, reader is called a bitch, protective zoro, for the sake of the story sham and buchie joined the black cat pirates after reader left

word count: 4.7k

“this guy is full of shit.”

you knock your shoulder into zoro’s wider one. “be nice. and so what if he is?” 

zoro gives you a pointed glare. “then we should turn around and look for someone who can actually help us find a ship.” 

“all business, as per usual,” you reply, with a purposefully dramatic sigh. “why can’t you have a little fun?” 

“what about this is supposed to be fun?” zoro spits out the word like it’s poisonous. “this is the blandest village i’ve ever seen.”

you scoff. “now you’re the one that’s full of shit. nothing’s ever bland with us and you know it.” 

the us in question was your newly formed pirate crew… if you and luffy could even be considered that. having left the ship you’d been on a few years ago, you were in search of a new crew. luffy was persistent and charming — when you’d crossed paths in shells town, it took little to no time for him to convince you to join his hunt for the one piece. zoro and nami, on the other hand, had yet to follow in your footsteps. 

“well, considering that we’ve only been traveling together for a day and a half and i’ve already escaped a marine base, defeated a marine captain, and fought a clown with devil fruit powers… i’d actually have to agree.” 

you can’t help but giggle at his sarcastic delivery. “be grateful, zoro. not many pirate crews are this fun to be on, trust me. oh wait, that’s right, you still haven’t officially joined—”

“tell me about your old pirate crew,” interjects zoro, your comment having piqued his interest. 

you notice that the playful atmosphere dissipates. “god, where do i even start?” 

zoro answers that for you. “why did you leave?”

“starting with the hard hitting questions, huh?” you joke, mostly to stall. you clear your throat before you answer. “well, it was different. nothing like what luffy has going on. he actually cares about his crew… and even those who aren’t technically on it.” 

at that, a smile tugs at the corner of zoro’s lips. even you crack a small grin. although as you continue speaking, it fades. 

“on my old crew, we were dispensable. anytime something went wrong, our own captain would threaten to kill us. it was… scary, to be completely honest. there were so many times when i thought i’d die with that filthy crew. and i never wanted that. so as soon as we docked at shells town, i left.”  

zoro’s jaw clenches as imagines the things you’d seen and been subjected to. “this old captain of yours sounds like a real—”

“he was a nightmare,” you tell him. “he didn’t care that i was the only woman on board, he treated me just as horribly, if not worse.” 

zoro stops so suddenly that it takes you a second to realize he’s not walking alongside you.

“what do you mean by that.” the way zoro phrases the inquiry doesn’t even make it sound like a question. more like a demand. his narrowed eyes are fixed solely on you. holding his gaze feels… intense. 

you can’t help but glance away as you answer him. “he was just a bit of a creep.”

before zoro has the chance to try and extract more information out of you, a familiar voice calls both your names. you’re not really sure when you and zoro had fallen behind but from where you currently stand, the rest of your group looks miniature. or perhaps it’s just the massive size of the mansion behind them that makes luffy, nami, and usopp look pocket-sized in comparison. 

“why’d you stop walking?!” your captain shouts, hands pressed on each side of his mouth to amplify his voice. “get over here, we’re about to go in through the top secret entrance!” 

you vaguely make out usopp gesturing for luffy to keep his voice down. you’re sure that would warrant another comment from zoro about his reliability but he’s too busy staring at you with that expectant look in his eyes. 

“we better catch up,” you tell him, heading in the direction of the deluxe home. 

he allows you to dodge the subject and sighs, walking in long strides to catch up to you.  

“i’ve never seen a house this big before,” luffy admits, admiring the mansion along with the wellkept greenery surrounding it. 

“awesome, right?” usopp gloats, walking around like he owned the place. “kaya’s given me an open invitation to drop by anytime i want.” 

“wow.” you’re not sure if luffy was just going along with usopp’s act or if he really believed him. knowing the devil fruit user, it was more than likely the latter. “all this for just one person?”

“well, she lives here with her butler and a few other staff,” usopp replies, leaning against the stone well that sat in the middle of the lawn.

“money really shows you who people truly are,” nami mutters, eyes scanning the property. “most people only care about themselves and what’s theirs.”

zoro is quick to throw the insult back at her. “sounds like someone i know.”

you roll your eyes at his comment, though you make no effort to disagree with him. nami was a little on the materialistic side. 

“and a small staff makes for easy pickings,” she continues, proving your point.

“we just got here and you’re already planning on robbing the place blind?” you ask though you already know the answer.

“at least a little blurry,” she smirks, following behind luffy and usopp who walk toward the entrance. 

you and zoro share a look. one that says disappointed but not surprised. 

going under a shrub shaped as an arch, you’re met with a beautiful pond. you admire the pink lilies that float at the top and the bushes that were intricately trimmed into the shape of various animals. even if the people that lived here were filthy rich, at least they had good decorative taste. 

“so if you have an invitation, why are we going around the back way?” luffy ponders.

usopp’s answer is nonchalant. “oh, i never use the front entrance. like i said, this is the vip entrance reserved for special guests.”

zoro scoffs. “this guy’s definitely–”

“don’t start,” you groan, cutting him off. 

abruptly, usopp freezes and spins around, attempting to usher your crew back. “you know what, there’s actually a more exclusive entrance this way–”

the sharp swoosh of a knife cutting through the air and burying itself in the ground between usopp’s feet cuts him off. from the direction the kitchen utensil was thrown stands a heavyset gentleman with his face wrinkled in anger. his demanding voice booms through the garden, “the hell are you doing here, usopp?” 

the dark-skinned boy fumbles over his word. “buchi, buddy, uh, kaya’s expecting me.”

“another one of your lies,” the man – seemingly named buchi – seethes, grabbing him by the collar. “you ain’t welcome here and you know it.”

“i know nothing of the sort,” usopp retorts, keeping his cool even when he was practically being lifted off the ground by his shirt. “i’m here to give kaya an extra special gift.”

before buchi can get another word out, a feminine voice calls out for your companion. coming down the steps is a frail looking girl in a pink dress. on her arm is a man dressed in a crisp suit, presumably the butler usopp had mentioned earlier. though, from where you stand you can’t see either of their faces too clearly. 

“what a wonderful surprise,” she exclaims, breathlessly. 

“kaya!” usopp exclaims, returning her enthusiasm. buchi has no choice but to let him go, begrudgingly. usopp makes sure to shoot him a smug look before walking towards the young girl. “happy birthday.” 

the butler clears his throat, not afraid to intrude on their special moment. “usopp, we’ve discussed this before. you mustn’t show up unannounced.” 

“nonsense, klahadore.” kaya smiles warmly. “have you come to tell me another story? i do love hearing about your adventures.” 

“i’ll do you one better,” usopp smirks with such confidence that even you’re left wondering what kind of surprise he has up his sleeve. “i brought some of my crew!” he gestures back towards the four of you, proudly. 

your excitement vanishes. “oh. the surprise is… us.”

“well, that’s boring,” luffy agrees, just as disappointed as you are. 

kaya, on the other hand, is none the wiser. “it’s so nice to meet you. you must all stay for dinner.” 

klahadore lowers his voice. “miss kaya, it is a bit last minute. i’m afraid the kitchen hasn’t prepared for any extra guests.”

“please,” begs kaya, softly. “it’s my birthday. can’t be too much trouble can it?” 

giving in, klahadore purses his lips. “anything for you, miss kaya.” 

luffy claps his hands together. “alright! when do we eat?” 

“you don’t. not dressed like that, at least.” the butler directs himself to a staff member with teal colored hair. “sham, kindly show usopp and his friends to the guest suites. you will bathe and change before dinner.”

she follows his orders and leads the way. luffy, usopp, nami, and zoro trail behind her and you go to do the same. however, all it takes is a quick glance to stop you dead in your tracks. usually, you weren’t one to stare but klahadore’s face. that stare. so dark and depraved. 

“yes, miss?” he asks, holding your gaze. “can i help you?” 

“n-no, i…” your throat goes dry as you attempt to recover smoothly. “i just wanted to, um, thank you for being so hospitable.” 

his lips curve upwards into a sinister grin. “the pleasure’s all mine.” as if to confirm your worst fear, klahadore uses his palm to readjust his glasses. his beady eyes gauge your reaction closely.

the familiar gesture sends chills down your spine. appearance-wise, he had changed drastically but his aura was still just as menacing as you remember it. he was still the corrupt pirate captain you used to serve under. you feel like a weak and helpless subordinate all over again.

“klahadore!” giggles kaya. “you’re smiling! that’s certainly a rarity.”

he hums. “i’ve simply come to the realization that having guests once in a while can truly be a delight.”

his sickeningly sweet tone makes your stomach turn. just the fact that you were standing in front of him – captain kuro – again after all these years was nauseating in itself. last you’d heard he had died at the hands of captain morgan. how was this even possible? then again, he wasn’t dubbed kuro of a hundred plans for no reason. he always had a trick or two up his sleeve. you assumed this was no different. 

“hey, you comin’?”

you turn around to see zoro waiting for you. he meets your gaze for a moment. the softness of his eyes is a stark contrast to kuro’s. it’s a breath of fresh air. he then shifts his attention to your former captain and you swear his eyes darken. 

“yeah, sorry,” you mumble, trying not to look shaken as you walk up the steps. 

zoro follows behind you, this time closer than before.

“why would anybody even need this many clothes?”

“it’s not about need with these people, luffy. it’s about want,” nami spits, thumbing through the various fabrics on the wall. 

“at least she’s rich and nice,” luffy replies, innocently.

nami rolls her eyes. “yeah, letting us stay for dinner must be her idea of charity work.” 

“what are we even supposed to wear?” luffy continues, uninterested in nami’s criticism of the rich. 

“anything you want. when are you ever going to get the opportunity to wear things this nice?” 

you step out from behind the changing board where you’d swapped out your old tee and cargo skirt for an elegant satin dress. it was a stunning shade of olive green and frilly lace decorated the edges. not to mention, it hugged your curves in all the right ways.

nami’s eyes widen. “see, she’s got the right idea. you look amazing.” 

you smile, bashfully. “honestly, i feel amazing.”

“you look the same to me,” your captain shrugs.

nami shoots him a death glare but you intervene before she can scold him.

“way to keep me humble, luffy.”

“no problem!” 

at that exact moment, a freshly showered zoro arrives donning a silk robe. he eyes the multitude of garments that cover every inch of the room, not particularly impressed. 

“there you are. don’t you think she looks nice?” nami asks him, gesturing towards you. she doesn’t notice how you shrink under zoro’s gaze. neither does he, as his eyes take their time raking over you, from top to bottom.

he hums. “suits you.” with that, he sets off towards a chair in the corner of the room.  

“seriously?” sighs nami, exasperated. “are you two physically unable to give compliments or something?” 

“hey, doesn’t that butler seem familiar to you guys?” zoro asks, promptly ignoring nami’s complaint. 

his question causes your breath to hitch. you’d pushed the kuro problem to the back of your mind while you were in search of a suitable dinner outfit. you figured that as long as your crew was by your side, he wouldn’t dare try anything. and even if he did… well, you’d seen what had happened to axe-hand morgan and buggy. 

“yeah, i think he was at the last dinner party i attended,” nami replies sarcastically, taking a handful of dresses behind the changing board. 

as he takes a seat, zoro grumbles, “i swear i’ve seen him before.” 

“where?” you can’t help but ask, fiddling with the lace on the neckline of your dress. 

“so far, i’ve got two suspicions. a wanted poster or funky bar on mirrorball island. you ever been?”

you know zoro’s teasing you, judging by the grin on his face. after all, funky bar was known to get insanely rowdy; never would he imagine finding someone as gentle as you there. but what he didn’t know is that it happened to be one of kuro’s favorite bars. per his request, you and the rest of the black cat pirates frequented it often, so he was more than likely right about having seen kuro there. he’d probably even seen you in passing, once or twice. thankfully, he doesn’t seem to have any recollection of that.

the thought of zoro knowing about your past forms a knot in the pit of your stomach. would he think less of you for having joined such a ruthless crew at one point in your life? what if it put a strain on the friendship you’d worked so hard to form? 

“i’ve, uh, heard of it,” you decide to reply, pushing down your worries for the time being. 

he tilts his head slightly, thinking out loud. “then again, i have seen a lot of wanted posters and bars in my time as a pirate hunter.”

you feel a grin creep onto your face. “probably more bars than posters, huh?”

zoro mirrors your smile. “shut up.”

by the time dinner rolls around, the entire crew is doing what they do best. 

luffy is stuffing his face, nami is attempting to swindle one of the staff, zoro is hanging by the drinks, and you’re hanging by zoro. 

“hey zoro, you gotta try this!” luffy calls through a mouthful of food.

“i’ve got all i need right here,” he mutters, taking a swig out of his champagne flute. 

“you know, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you choke down something that isn’t alcohol,” you comment, watching the way he downs the glass in one go. 

dryly, he replies, “that’s because i haven’t.”

“very on brand.”

“ladies and gentlemen,” calls out that voice from the top of the stairs. “may i present… miss kaya.”

arm in arm, kuro and kaya walk down the steps, all eyes on the birthday girl and her stunning gown. well, except you. your eyes never leave the so-called butler by her side. your jaw clenches when he has the audacity to meet your gaze and hold it. shameless bastard. 

once they reach the bottom, merry leads kaya to the guests while kuro takes his post at the bottom of the stairs… right next to the drink table. before you can think about steering yourself and zoro away, kuro speaks.

“forgive me if i am speaking out of line, madam, but i must inform you. you look positively radiant,” he purrs, soaking in your appearance. he looks ready to pounce.

you can’t stop your eyes from rolling. good to know he’s the same pervert he used to be.

looking between you both and sensing your discomfort, zoro steps in. “and you look familiar.” 

kuro’s head stiffly turns to face him, eyes peeling away from you. “highly doubtful, sir.” 

“funky bar? mirror ball island?” 

“funky bar?” kuro repeats, disgusted. “well, i can assure you i’ve never patronized that type of establishment.” 

while it was amusing to see your highly esteemed former captain lie through his teeth, the tension between him and zoro was unbearable. 

“well then.” zoro continues with his little interrogation. “ever been on a wanted poster?”

you cringe at his bluntness. sometimes it seemed like he had less of a filter than luffy.

kuro puts on a scandalized face at the question. “sir! such an accusation is highly offensive.” tugging on his collar, he goes to remove himself from zoro’s probing. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to help prepare the dinner table.” 

he leaves, en route to the dining room. zoro’s eyes follow his figure until he disappears, squinting as he racks his brain for any further recollection of this suspicious butler. 

you sigh. if zoro was going to continue being so relentless, you were sure the night would end in bloodshed and uncovered secrets. 

“keep this coming,” zoro demands, handing the empty wine bottle to sham. she takes it with a glare. 

“would it kill you to say please?” you ask, slicing the slab of fish on your plate into smaller pieces.

“the service here is shitty. why should i have to be polite?” 

you scowl. “remind me to never have dinner with you again.”

zoro turns to you with that cocky grin of his. “what if i asked nicely?” 

his quip makes your heart flutter but you manage to keep your composure. “you can try your luck.” 

before he can respond, usopp speaks up. “luffy, isn’t there something that you wanted to talk to kaya about?” 

luffy gesticulates enthusiastically with his fork. “oh, yes! usopp told me that you own the whole shipyard.” 

“well, actually, my parents founded the shipyard and merry’s been running the business since they… passed. but all that’s about to change. tonight, at midnight, i will become the sole owner.” she smiles somberly. 

“well, that’s great,” luffy says, raising his drink at her. “because we want to buy a ship from you.” 

“ah, i see. usopp mentioned that you’re sailors.” 

“nope, not sailors. we’re pirates!”

you’re certain at least three people at the table choke on their food, yourself included. 

“this ought to be good,” zoro mumbles behind his glass.

you’re too busy coughing into your napkin to chastise him for finding this entertaining.

“pirates?” kaya repeats, unsure of how to react. 

“yup! we haven’t sailed together for very long but we’ve already defeated an evil clown, raided a marine base, and taken down a captain with an axe! for a hand!” luffy holds up a fist, presumably to impersonate axe-hand morgan.

“sounds a lot like your adventures, usopp,” kaya says, turning to the brunette.

all he can do is laugh dryly. “yeah, that’s… that’s crazy.” 

“and we’re just getting started!” luffy continues, climbing up onto the table.

“someone put me out of my misery,” you mumble, looking down at your plate to ignore the secondhand embarrassment.

a tap on your shoulder answers your plea.

turning around, you find yourself face to face with kuro once again. “madam, a word please?”

“might i ask what for?” zoro cuts in before you can so much as think of a response.

kuro offers him the most forced grin you’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing. “i’m afraid that is between the lady and i.”

the swordsman turns to you, scanning your face for any ounce of discomfort. “you okay with that?”

you inhale, figuring it was finally time for you to confront the darkest part of your past. it was silly to assume you would be able to ignore him throughout your entire stay here. besides, you were sure zoro, just like the rest of your crew, would be on standby if kuro got brave enough to try anything. “sure. just… keep an eye out.”

zoro understands completely. truthfully, you didn’t even need to ask – he always looked after you. “got it.”

you push yourself out of your seat and smooth out your dress. you allow kuro to lead you to the doorway – he was smart enough to know that was the farthest you’d let him take you. 

“what do you want, klahadore?” you seethe, folding your arms.

he arches a brow. “why must you call me that? it’s ridiculous.” 

you tilt your head with faux innocence. “oh? is that not your name? must have misheard.”

he gives you an irritated look, dark eyes drilling into you.

“i remember that look,” you mutter, your memory serving you well. “it’s the same one you’d give me before you’d threaten to slice me to bits with your claws.”

kuro has the audacity to chuckle dryly. “but i never did, did i? although there were certainly times times where i should’ve.”

“what you should be is dead,” you hiss bitterly. “when i heard the news, i knew it was too good to be true.”

“you wound me, kitten,” he drawls, reaching up to fix his glasses. 

the condescending nickname makes your skin crawl. it carried so many awful memories of your time spent with the black cat pirates. it reminded you of just how weak kuro viewed you — nothing but a helpless, pitiful kitten in his eyes. typical of the man that abused his authority and treated you with not a single ounce of respect. 

he continues, putting on a sweet tone. “after all these years, stuck waiting hand and foot on that spoiled brat, there’s nothing i’d love more than to hear my favorite crew mate say my real name.”

you snap at him. “i’m no crew mate of yours.”

he sighs, dramatically. “sadly, you’re correct. after all, you did slip off the ship the moment we docked in shells town. locating you on an island crawling with marines proved to be nearly impossible. we had no choice but to leave without you.”

“that’s exactly why i chose to escape there.” 

“and to this day i can’t for the life of me figure out why you would ever do that. why would you want to leave us? leave me?”

you actually laugh right in his face. “is it really that hard to figure out? you were evil. you threatened and harassed me on a daily basis.”

“so your solution was to join that ragtag crew?” he glances at the table. “it’s pathetic, even for you.”

you lean into his face, lowering your voice down. “i’m happier than i ever was on your shitty crew. every day i wake up grateful that i managed to escape you.”

you see that vein on his forehead bulge before he’s gripping you by the chin. “listen here, you little bitch–”

the shiny silver of a sword slides between you and kuro, coming to rest against his neck. his adam’s apple bobs as he gulps anxiously, releasing you. thanks to zoro’s sword, it seemed as if he finally remembered where he was. you were no longer on his ship, he was no longer allowed to treat you like the dirt he walked on. not without someone noticing, that is. 

“why don’t you step away?” zoro offers simply.

that much was a kindness. usually those who found themselves on the end of zoro’s blade(s) weren’t lucky enough to receive a warning. however, the swordsman didn’t wish to cause a scene. at least not when you were right there and everyone was watching with shock from the dinner table.

kuro obliges, stumbling back. he meets kaya’s horrified eyes, feeling ashamed that he allowed his act to slip. surely this would cause some setbacks in his plan. with no excuse for his uncharacteristic behavior, the raven haired man scurries away and up the stairs.

zoro turns and locks eyes with luffy, giving him one singular nod. luffy returns it, jumping out of his seat and going after the butler. quiet murmuring breaks out at the dinner table, everyone surely confused. 

sheathing his sword, zoro directs his attention to you once more. “are you alright?” a calloused hand comes up to grip your chin, much like kuro had. however, this time, the touch is gentle. loving, almost. you welcome it.

“yeah, i’m… fine.” your heart is beating out of your chest and it has everything to do with your close proximity to zoro.

he tilts your face around, inspecting every inch of it. once he finishes, he pulls back. his demeanor goes serious once more. “we need to have a talk.”

you nod. “i know. i’ve been keeping some things from you guys and–”

“just tell me what’s been going on,” he demands. “and don’t overcomplicate it. you can be straightforward with me.”

his sincerity makes you start over, this time far more candidly. “klahadore used to be a pirate. i was part of his crew. he was my… captain.”

the shame in your voice pulls at zoro’s heartstrings. didn’t you know there was no reason to feel guilty with him? “is that it?” 

you open your mouth to speak but come up empty. all you can do is furrow your eyebrows at his unexpectedly dismissive reaction.

“i knew it,” zoro continues, annoyed. “i knew i’d seen him on a wanted poster before. just didn’t have any proof.”

“wait, so you don’t– you really don’t care?” you ask, still avoiding eye contact. “me being a former black cat pirate doesn’t bother you?”

he shrugs. “you said it yourself. ‘former.’ all that matters is that you got the hell out of there. and away from that creep. would he always put his hands on you like that?”

you blink a couple times, sighing. “his temper was really bad so–”

that seemed to be enough for zoro. “i’ll kill the bastard,” he hisses. “wanted to slice him to bits the moment i saw him grab you.” 

though it’s a violent threat, you can’t help but smile. the idea of zoro being so protective that he’d kill a man just for touching you made you blush. pirate love language, you suppose.

“well, i wouldn’t have stopped you,” you tell him, more than ready to see your former captain go.

zoro clicks his tongue. “nah. could’ve stained your new dress with his blood. i never would have been able to forgive myself.”

“so you do have a soft spot,” you tease.

“only for pretty things.”

“do you mean me or the dress?” 

now it’s zoro’s turn to become bashful. though, his lack of response is an answer in itself. you can’t help but giggle. 

a loud bang from upstairs interrupts your moment with the green-haired man. you assume luffy had gotten his hands on kuro… or vice versa. zoro must be thinking the same thing judging by the way he instinctively rests a hand on the handle of his blade.

“you should go up there,” you tell him. “i’ll stay with kaya.”  

he gives you a nod, though he doesn’t make any effort to leave. he stands there like he wants to say something… or do something. before you can think about it too much, you pull him in by the collar and crash your lips onto his. they’re slightly chapped and taste like the wine that’d come from the cellar – it’s pleasant. his large palms come to rest on your lower back; his hold feels tight and secure. 

when you finally allow yourself to pull away, you’re biting back a smile. “kick his ass for me.” 

“will i get more of that if i do?” asks zoro, wetting his lips. they now taste like the cherry lip gloss you’d borrowed from kaya. he takes a step forward, attempting to close the gap between you two once more.

you shrug, pushing him away by the chest. “go help luffy and we’ll see.”

you both know that means yes.

[yu-winchester]

I am currently obsessed with this Story 🥰

Provenance | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, j e a l o u s y

Word Count: 6703

A/N: Taglist will be closing at the start of season 2! if you aren't currently tagged, and you'd like to join, please please let me know within the next two posts!!

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You gripped your beer tightly watching Dean getting a girl’s number across the bar from you. 

“(Y/N), if you hold that thing any tighter, you’re gonna break it,” Sam snorted. “What’s your deal?”

You looked back at Sam but were unable to pull your eyes from Dean and his new “friend” for longer than a few seconds. “Nothing.” You took a swig of your drink.

“Are you sure you don’t know how you feel about Dean?” the brunet taunted. 

You shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

He snickered in response and returned to looking over the papers in front of him.

You waved Dean over, who held a hand up behind the woman’s back to get you to wait. You gestured again and his smile dropped. He said something to her quickly before making his way back over to you. 

“I think we got something,” Sam told his brother. 

Dean grinned over his shoulder. “Oh, yeah, me too. I think we need to take a little shore leave; just a little bit. What do you think, huh? I'm so in the door with this one.”

You rolled your eyes. “So, what are we today, Dean? Rock stars, army rangers?”

“Reality TV scouts,” he grinned at you, ignoring the bite in your voice. “Looking for people with special skills. I mean hey, it's not that far off right?”

“If by ‘not far off’ you mean ‘completely off the mark,’ then you’re spot on,” you deadpanned.

Dean shot you a look while he turned to his brother. “By the way, she's got a friend over there. Possibly hook you up. What do you think?”

“Dean, no thanks, I can get my own dates,” Sam responded to his question.

“Yeah, you can, but you don't.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Dean shook his head. “Nothing. What you got?”

“Mark and Ann Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their own home, a few days ago. Throats were slit. There were no prints, no murder weapons, all—” He trailed off as his brother looked back at the women at the bar. 

“Dean!” you snapped your fingers at him.

He turned back. “Huh, what?”

“No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and windows locked from the inside,” Sam continued.

“Could just be a garden variety murder, you know, not our department,” Dean answered.

“No. Dad says different.”

“What do you mean?” Dean’s interest was piqued at the mention of his dad.

You pointed at the map. “John noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York. First one here in 1912, second, right here in 1945, and the third in 1970. Same M.O. as the Telescas. Throats slit, doors locked from the inside; the whole nine. Now, so much time passed that nobody checked the pattern. Except for your dad. It’s frustrating how much better he is at this than me sometimes,” you muttered at the end of your sentence.

“Alright, I'm with ya. It's worth checking out. We can't pick this up ‘til first thing though right?” Dean asked, trying to contain his excitement.

“Yeah,” Sam answered.

“Good.” Before you could stop him, Dean was off to the two women again.

You were fuming; staring daggers at him and downing the rest of your drink.

Sam snickered at you. “Let’s get you out of here before you end up killing one of those girls.”

“Nah, I’d kill your brother. They didn’t do anything wrong,” you responded, helping Sam pick up the papers scattered about the table. “How ‘bout the Telescas’ house?” you asked.

***

You and Sam headed back to the motel you were staying in to research the history of the Telescas’ home. You sprawled out across Dean’s bed with your laptop, and Sam sat on his bed with his laptop.

“Finding anything?” you asked him.

“Nope. You?”

You shook your head. “Nada.”

He shut his laptop. “So? You wanna talk about it?”

You shut yours, too. “About what?”

“Dean?”

“Oh, hell no,” you snorted.

“You two are made for each other,” he deadpanned at your boxed-up emotions.

“Fuck off, Sam,” you retorted. “What about you? Still not ready to jump back into the dating pool?” You snuggled into the blankets on Dean’s bed, reveling in his scent emanating off them.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“What was she like?” you asked after a moment.

“Who?”

“Jessica. You never told me much about her.”

He sighed. “She was just… the best, man. You two would’ve gotten along great, honestly. She was—” he grinned sadly at the thought of her, “—so smart. So beautiful. Quick, witty, and…” he shook his head. “I was looking for wedding rings. Few weeks before she...”

You smiled sadly at him. “She sounds amazing.”

“She was,” he responded. A quiet settled over the room.

“Don’t you think she would’ve wanted you to be… I don’t know, happy? Do you think she’d want you to move on? It’s been almost a year,” you said. “Jesus, I’ve known you guys for almost a year now," you realized.

He chuckled before going quiet again momentarily. “I think she would. But Jess… I don’t know if I’ll ever be fully over her. She was my best friend, y’know?”

You nodded. “I get it. I’m glad you had that with her, though. Sounds like you really loved each other.”

“We did.”

You and Sam went silent once more, and you succumbed to the tiredness of your limbs and mind. You were so comforted by the scent of worn leather, Dean’s cologne, and whiskey, that you slept better than you had in years.

***

When you woke up the next morning, Sam was standing over you, shaking you gently. You popped up and grabbed his wrist, twisting it and putting a hand to his throat. “Hey, hey,” he tried to calm you down, “Dean’s back.” 

You released him immediately. “Sorry, dude. Uh… reflexes,” you laughed awkwardly.

“It’s okay. Dean does that, too.”

The man in question stumbled into the room tiredly. “Move your asses. Let’s go.”

***

You and Sam had just swept the Telescas’ house for EMF while Dean slept in the car trying to get over his hangover. When you returned to the car, you beeped the horn. Dean shot up a foot in the air and groaned. 

“Man, that is so not cool.” He adjusted his sunglasses and leaned back against the car door. You and Sam climbed into your seats and began to explain what you had been up to.

“We just swept the Telescas with EMF. It's clean. And last night, while you were, well, out—” Sam trailed off.

Dean’s smirk made your stomach drop. “Good times.”

“—we checked the history of the house.”

“Nothing strange about the Telescas, either,” you said, swallowing your feelings.

“Alright,” Dean’s gravelly voice came, “so if it's not the people and it's not the house, then maybe it's the contents. Cursed object or something.”

“The house is clean,” you said.

“Yeah I know, you said that.”

“No, no, it’s empty. No furniture, nothing,” you explained.

Dean turned back to you. “Where's all their stuff?”

***

You felt so out of place in the swanky auction house the Telescas’ belongings had been brought to. Even the Impala looked like an outcast in the parking lot full of McLarens and Corvettes. 

You and the brothers wandered around the auction house, and you wrapped your jacket tightly around yourself.

“Consignment auctions, estate sales. Looks like a garage sale for Wasps if you ask me,” Dean commented. He took some food from a tray table as a man came up behind you.

“Can I help you?” the man questioned. 

You wheeled around to face him.

“I'd like some champagne please,” Dean said in a mock posh voice.

You could’ve killed him. “He’s not a waiter.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow at you, and you held out your hand to the man. “I’m (Y/N) Dewitt. This is Sam and Dean Connors. We’re with Connors Limited. We’re art dealers.”

The man didn’t give you the courtesy of a handshake. You fought the urge to make an inappropriate comment.

“You. Are… art dealers,” the man said, clearly having difficulty grasping that concept. “I'm Daniel Blake, this is my auction house. Now, this is a private showing, and I don't remember seeing you on the guest list.”

“We're there, Chuckles, you just need to take another look.” Dean, of course, talked through a mouth full of food.

You shot a sharp look at Dean as he took a glass of champagne off the tray. He turned and walked off, and you followed him.

“Can you chill out?” you asked him.

“What?” he asked through a mouthful of champagne.

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I’m talking about. I don’t like this crowd either, but relax.” You noticed a painting just beyond where you and Dean were talking. It was of a family in an American Gothic style; presumably from the early 1900s. The family contained three young girls in frilly dresses, a man with a gaunt and creepy face, and a woman you assumed was the mother seated in a chair.

“A fine example of American Primitive wouldn't you say?” a woman’s voice called from behind you.

You turned to the place the voice came from to find an extremely good looking woman in a sleek black dress with glossed lips descending the staircase. You noticed Dean beginning to ogle her as Sam answered her. “Well, I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses. But you knew that, you just wanted to see if I did.”

The woman smiled as she approached you. “Guilty. And clumsy. I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake.”

“I’m Sam,” he said. “This is my… brother, Dean.” Dean was still stuffing his face with food from passing trays. “And our friend, (Y/N).”

“Dean. Can we get you some more mini-quiche?” Sarah questioned.

You snorted. You liked her.

“I'm good, thanks,” he smiled through a full mouth.

“So, can I help you with something?” she asked Sam. You knew she liked him; she was giving him the same look you often gave Dean.

“Yeah, actually. What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?” Sam asked her.

She grimaced. “The whole thing's pretty grisly if you ask me, selling your things this soon. But Dad's right about one thing, sensationalism brings out the crowds. Even the rich ones.”

“Is it possible to see the provenances?” Sam asked.

The man from earlier came up behind you. “I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that.”

“Why not?” you asked.

“You're not on the guest list. And I think it's time to leave.”

You rolled your eyes, dropping your polite disposition. “Don’t have to tell us twice.”

“Apparently, I do,” he said.

“C’mon, Dean,” you said, dragging his arm out.

***

You and the brothers found a decently priced motel and approached the rooms you had been assigned.

“Grant Wood, Grandma Moses?” Dean scoffed at his brother.

“Art history course. It's good for meeting girls,” Sam replied simply.

Dean unlocked the door to his room and chuckled. “It's like I don't even know you.”

You walked a little further down to the room next to theirs and unlocked it only to find a gaudily outfitted room full of obnoxious disco decor. The "do not disturb" hanger was even of John Travolta’s silhouette from Saturday Night Fever.

“Huh.” You dropped your bag off and headed back to the boys’ room.

“What was… providence?” Dean was asking as you entered the room.

“Provenance,” you corrected. “It’s like a biography for a painting. You use ‘em to check the history of the pieces; in this case, to see if they have a freaky past.”

“Alright, professor,” Dean taunted you. “Well, we're not getting anything out of Chuckles, but Sarah…” he smirked at his brother.

“Yeah, maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin,” Sam smirked back.

“Not me,” Dean laughed.

You shot a look at Sam, too.

He seemed only mildly horrified. “No, no, no, pickups are your thing, Dean.”

“It wasn't my butt she was checking out,” Dean snorted.

You giggled despite yourself.

“In other words, you want me to use her to get information,” Sam deadpanned.

“Sometimes you gotta take one for the team. Call her,” Dean instructed his brother.

Sam rolled his eyes, but took out his phone. You weren’t sure when he had gotten her number, but he left about an hour later to take her out to dinner.

You and Dean sat in awkward silence for a bit.

“So…”

“So…”

You went silent again. 

“What’s goin’ on with us, (Y/N)? You’ve barely spoken a word to me this whole trip.”

You huffed. “Nothing.”

“Obviously, it’s not nothing.” Dean held your challenging stare.

“Seriously, drop it, please,” you said.

“Fine. You wanna go get some food?”

You smiled despite yourself. “You know I do.”

You and Dean found a crappy diner with deliciously greasy burgers to stuff your faces with. 

“So, how ‘bout you, sweetheart? Why don’t you ever go out?” Dean asked.

“On dates, you mean?”

He nodded.

You nibbled on a fry. “I’m just not one for hookups. I can’t take ‘em,” you admitted. “You, though, are king of the unattached drifters.”

He chuckled. “What’s wrong with hookups? 

“I get too attached, which kind of defeats the whole purpose,” you replied. “The idea of being intimate with somebody I don’t even know makes me want to throw up.”

“Why? You’re gorgeous. Anybody would kill to get with you," he said casually.

You ignored the way your heart swelled in your chest. “It’s not that, it’s just…” you sighed. “I’m, like, allergic to vulnerability.”

“I get it,” Dean chuckled. “You know by now I’m not exactly the best with it, either.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re worse than me,” you quipped. “You look like you’re gonna throw up any time you have to tell me you’re sorry or something like that.”

“Maybe it’s just your face,” he retorted.

“Hey!” you giggled. “You can’t call me gorgeous one minute then tell me looking at me makes you sick the next.”

He chuckled. “I just did, so…”

“Whatever, Winchester. What is it about hookups you enjoy so much, anyway?”

He shrugged and took a bite of his burger. “Sex is just fun, I guess. Always helps me blow off steam.”

You scoffed. “I’m sure it does.”

“I’m serious! Helps me take a break from… all this.” He gestured around him. 

“That’s why you have hobbies, Dean. Sex is not a hobby.”

“It can be! You draw, Sam reads, I fuck."

“Well, get a better one,” you scoffed.

“What would you suggest I do? Knitting?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, just… something a little more wholesome, maybe. You said it yourself, it doesn’t always make you feel great.”

“Never should’ve told you that,” he responded.

“Well, ya did, so.”

He snorted at you. “It’s frustrating how well you know me sometimes.”

“Oh, look at that, another crumb of vulnerability from Mr. Closed Book.”

“That’s the best diss you could come up with?”

“Hey, it’s not easy being effortlessly funny all the time,” you retorted. “It’s a lot of pressure.”

***

When you and Dean returned to the motel room, you pulled out your whetstone to sharpen your knives.

“Who you plannin’ on carvin’ up, sweetheart?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” you answered.

“Remind me not to piss you off,” he remarked.

“You do literally all the time,” you quipped. “You’re lucky you’re still in one piece. If you give me yours, I’ll sharpen ‘em, too.”

“Thanks,” he said. He handed his knives over to you. 

Sam burst through the door at that moment holding a stack of papers. “Got ‘em.”

“So she just handed the providences over to you?” Dean questioned.

“Provenances,” you corrected.

“We went back to her place, I got a copy of the papers—”

Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly. “And?”

“And nothing. That's it. I left.”

“You didn't have to con her or do any… special favors or anything like that?” Dean questioned.

“Dean, would you get your mind out of the gutter, please?” the younger brother scoffed.

“You know when this whole thing's done, we could stick around for a little bit,” he suggested.

“Why?”

“So you could take her out again. It's obvious you're into her, even I could see that.”

Sam ignored his brother. “Hey, I think I've got something here.”

You headed over to Sam’s seated position at the desk and looked over his shoulder at the papers. “ ‘Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family, painted 1910’,” you read off.

“Now, compare the names of the owners with my dad's journal,” Sam said.

Dean pulled it out. “First purchased in 1912, Peter Simms. Peter Simms murdered 1912. Same thing in 1945. Oh, same thing in 1970.”

“Then stored, until it was donated to a charity auction last month. Where the Telescas bought it,” Sam continued.

“So what do you think? It's haunted? Or cursed?” you asked.

“Either way, it's toast,” said Dean, getting up from his bed.

***

Under the cover of night, you and the brothers broke into the auction house. You were consistently impressed with and sexually frustrated by how easy scaling tall fences and gates were for Dean. 

“Come on!” Dean urged you. 

You disarmed the security alarm, wearing gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints. “Go ahead,” you whispered. 

Dean picked the lock at your cue. You shone your flashlight ahead of you searching for the painting. When you found it, you and the boys were in and out within minutes. You and the boys had clearly been breaking and entering for years. You found it comical almost how good you were. You brought the painting out to a field behind the arthouse and set it alight.

Dean dusted off his hands. “Ugly ass thing. If you ask me, we're doing the art world a favor.”

***

Dean banged on your door the next morning. “We got a problem. I can't find my wallet.”

You opened it. “How the hell do you lose your wallet?”

“I think I dropped it in the warehouse last night.”

“Fuck, dude, that’s bad.” You started pulling on your boots as he paced around the room.

“Yeah, I know. It's got my prints, my ID— well, my fake ID anyway. We gotta get it before someone else finds it. Come on.”

You and the brothers hurried around the auction house searching for the wallet. Sam was clearly frustrated with his brother until he caught sight of Sarah.

“Hey guys!” she smiled.

You wheeled around at the sound of her voice and attempted to act cool.

“Sarah! Hey,” Sam breathed. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Ahh, we.... we are leaving town and, you know, we came to say goodbye,” Sam responded.

“What are you talking about Sam, we're sticking around for at least another day or two,” Dean grinned as he strolled up to the two. He took his wallet out of his pocket and shot a look at Sam. “By the way, I'm gonna go ahead and give you that $20 I owe you.” He turned to Sarah. “I always forget, you know.” Dean chuckled and you grinned as he held out the cash to his brother. Sam took it and glared at him. “Well, we’ll leave you two crazy kids alone, I gotta go do something… somewhere.”

“Smooth, Dean,” you told him as you walked away from Sarah and Sam. The two of you headed back out to the Impala and sat in it waiting for Sam. When he returned, he was frantically saying the painting was back in the auction house.

“I don't understand. We burned the damn thing,” Sam rushed out.

“Yeah, thank you, Captain Obvious,” Dean remarked. 

“Alright, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?” you chimed in.

“Well, um, in almost all the lore about haunted paintings it's always the painting's subject that haunts 'em,” Sam began.

“Yeah. So we just need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy-ass family and that creepy-ass painting. What were their names again?” 

“Merchant,” you answered. “I say we find us a bookstore.”

***

And so, that was where you headed. You found a proprietor whose personality was interesting, to say the least. You found his quirk had a bit of charm to it.

“You said the Isaiah Merchant family right?” he asked you.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sam said.

You and Dean were flicking through a book with pictures of guns in it. The proprietor laid a book of newspaper clippings on the table in front of you. “I dug up every scrap of local history I could find. So, are you folks crime buffs?”

“Kinda. Yeah. Why do you ask?” you responded.

He held up the newspaper article before him. It talked about the sinking of the Titanic, and just next to it, read “Father Slaughters Family, Kills Himself.”

“Yes. Yeah, that sounds about right,” Dean replied.

“The whole family was killed?” You tilted your head.

“It seems this Isaiah, he slits his kids' throats, then his wife, then himself. Now, he was a barber by trade. Used a straight razor,” the proprietor explained.

“Why'd he do it?” Sam questioned.

“Let's look. Ahh... ‘People who knew him describe Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament. Controlled his family with an iron fist. Wife, uh, two sons, adopted daughter…’ “ he skimmed on. “Yeah, yeah, yeah… ‘There were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave.’ Which of course you know in that day and age, um, so instead, old man Isaiah, well, he gave them all a shave.” He drew his hand across his throat and made a noise to go along with it. You and Dean joined in laughing with the proprietor.

“Does it say what happened to the bodies?” asked Dean.

The proprietor shook his head. “Just that they were all cremated.”

“Anything else?” you asked.

“Yeah. Actually, I found a picture of the family. It's right here. Somewhere. Right— here it is.”

It was a picture of the painting, but something seemed off to you. 

“Hey, could we get a copy of this please?” Sam asked the man. 

He nodded, and returned a few minutes later with it.

***

You and the boys sat at a table in the motel room and looked over the copy of the picture. 

“I’m telling you,” you started, “The picture at the auction house, Dad’s looking down. Here, dad’s looking out. The painting changed.”

“Alright, so you think that Daddy dearest is trapped in the painting and is handing out Columbian neckties like he did with his family?” Dean questioned.

“Well, yeah, it seems like it. But if his bones are already dusted, then how are we gonna stop him?” Sam asked.

“Maybe other things changed in the painting, too. Maybe it could give us some clues,” you answered.

“What, like a Da Vinci Code deal?” Sam asked.

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

Dean looked down at you, confused. “I’m lost. Still waiting for the movie on that one. Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting.” He walked over to his bed and laid back, crossing his arms. “Which is a good thing ‘cause you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend.”

Sam huffed. “Dude, enough already.”

“What?” he responded.

“What? Ever since we got here, you been trying to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back off, all right?” he said defensively.

“Sam, relax,” you told him.

“Well, you like her don't you?” Dean pushed.

Sam threw his arms up and looked to the ceiling.

“Alright, you like her, she likes you, you’re both consenting adults…” Dean trailed off with a smile.

“What's the point, Dean? We'll just leave. We always leave,” came Sam’s frustrated response.

“Well, I'm not talking about marriage, Sam.”

Sam snarled angrily. “You know, I don't get it. What do you care if I hook up?”

“ ‘Cause then maybe you wouldn't be so cranky all the time,” Dean answered calmly.

Sam stared at him and huffed before looking away.

“Look, I’m not crazy about hookups either, but maybe it would be helpful,” you suggested.

“And this isn't about just hooking up, okay?” Dean continued. “I mean, I think that this Sarah girl could be good for you. And... I don't mean any disrespect, but I'm sure this is about Jessica, right? Now I don't know what it's like to lose somebody like that, but... I would think that she would want you to be happy.” Sam’s eyes welled with tears as his brother continued to talk. “God forbid, have fun once in a while. Wouldn't she?”

“Yeah, I know she would,” Sam responded softly. “Yeah, you're right. Part of this is about Jessica. But not the main part.”

“What’s it about?” you asked.

He wouldn’t answer you.

“Well, we still gotta see that painting, which means you still gotta call Sarah, so…” Dean trailed off.

Sam picked up his phone and cleared his throat. Dean shook his head and closed his eyes, settling back on his bed. 

“Sarah, hey, it's Sam… Hey, hi… Good. Good, yeah. Umm. What about you?... Yeah good, good, really good.”

Dean opened one eye and looked at his brother. “Smooth.”

You suppressed a laugh. 

“So, ah, so listen,” Sam continued. “Me and my brother were, uh, thinking that maybe we'd like to come back in and look at the painting again. I- I think maybe we are interested in buying it… What?!” 

At Sam’s tone, you and Dean snapped to attention. 

“Who'd you sell it to?” Sam stood up. 

Dean rose and came to stand next to you.

“Sarah, I need an address right now,” Sam urged her.

Once she’d given it to you, you and the boys sped away in the Impala to an upscale neighborhood. You and the boys were surprised to see another car parked right outside the building: Sarah’s. 

“Sam, what's happening?” she asked as you and the boys ran up the front steps of the house.

“I told you, you shouldn't have come,” he responded.

“Hello, anyone home?” Dean banged on the heavy front door.

“You said Evelyn might be in danger; what sort of danger?” Sarah asked Sam frantically.

“I can't knock this sucker down. I gotta pick it.” Dean crouched down in front of you and you moved over to the windows, banging on them with all your might.

“What are you guys, burglars?” Sarah yelped.

“I wish it was that simple. Look, you really should wait in the car. It's for your own good,” Sam told her.

Dean got the door open and you followed him inside quickly. 

“The hell I will. Evelyn's a friend,” she said, trailing behind you and the boys. “Evelyn?” She moved over to the elderly woman sitting half-turned away from you. Something was wrong and you knew it; the woman’s gaze seemed completely empty. “Evelyn? It's Sarah Blake. Are you alright?” She touched her shoulder gently. 

“Sarah, don't. Sarah!” Sam told her. 

Evelyn’s head tipped back, exposing her slashed throat.

Sarah jumped back in horror and screamed. Sam put his arm around her and led her out of the room. You and Dean stared up at the painting before following the younger brother out of the house.

***

Back in the motel room, you and Dean clacked away at the keys on your laptops while Sam paced in front of you. A knock on the door stirred all of you from your thoughts. Sarah stormed into the room and brushed past Sam.

“Hey. You alright?” he asked her.

“No, actually, I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyn's— alone— and found her like that,” she answered, wheeling around.

“Thank you,” Sam nodded. 

“Don't thank me. I'm about to call them right back if you don't tell me what the hell's going on. Who's killing these people?”

Sam looked back at you and Dean, and you shrugged.

“What,” he told her.

“What?”

“It's not 'who'. It's 'what' is killing those people,” he explained.

Sarah was still looking at Sam like he was insane.

“Sarah, you saw that painting move,” he sighed.

The woman began to pace. “No, no. I was— I was seeing things. It's impossible.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to our world,” Dean grinned.

“Sarah, I know this sounds crazy, but we think that that painting is haunted.”

Sarah laughed humorlessly but had tears in her eyes. “You’re joking.” She looked between you and the Winchesters. “You're not joking. God, the guys I go out with.”

“Sarah, think about it. Evelyn, the Telescas, they both had the painting. And there have been others before that. Wherever this thing goes, people die. And we're just trying to stop it. And that's the truth,” the brunet told her.

“Then I guess you'd better show me. I'm coming with you,” she said matter-of-factly.

“What? No. Sarah no, you should just go home. This stuff can get dangerous and… and I don't want you to get hurt,” he admitted.

“Look, you guys are probably crazy, but if you're right about this? Well, me and my Dad sold that painting that might have gotten these people killed. Look, I'm not saying I'm not scared, because I am scared as hell, but I'm not going to run and hide either.” Sarah strutted over to the door. “So are we going or what?” She walked out.

“Sam?” Dean said. “Marry that girl.”

***

You and the boys returned to Evelyn’s house to scope out the crime scene a little further. Sam picked the lock to let you, his brother, and Sarah inside.

“Uh, isn’t this a crime scene?” Sarah protested.

Dean smirked. “You've already lied to the cops. What's another infraction?”

Once inside, you and Sam got the painting down from off the wall to examine it. 

“Aren't you worried that it's gonna kill us?” Sarah asked.

“Nah, it seems to do its thing at night. I think we're alright in the daylight.”

You took the copy of the painting out of your pocket. “Sam, check it out. The razor: it's closed in this one, but it's open in that one.”

“What are you guys looking for?” she asked.

“Well, if the spirit's changing aspects of the painting, then it's doing so for a reason,” Dean explained.

“And look, the painting in the painting,” you pointed out. “Looks like a crypt, or a mausoleum or something.” 

Dean grabbed a thick glass ashtray and used it as a magnifying glass. You ignored how your body came alight as he wound his arm around you to reach the painting. “Merchant,” he read out.

***

Your next stop was a graveyard. Several, in fact. You stepped over gravestones carefully to avoid disrespecting the dead even further.

“What, are you superstitious?” Dean asked.

“A little, actually. I think I’m in such deep shit with the spirits already; I don’t wanna make it worse,” you laughed.

“You are somethin’ else, woman,” he smirked. “This is the third boneyard we've checked,” Dean addressed your group. “I think this ghost is jerking us around.”

Sam and Sarah talked amongst themselves behind you and you and Dean walked a bit ahead.

“Over there,” you said, pointing to a mausoleum. The group followed you into the mausoleum where you found four urns in front of little glass-fronted boxes on one wall. On the opposite, there were five brass nameplates. 

Sarah looked at one of the boxes containing a little porcelain doll with brown hair. “Okay, that right there is the creepiest thing I've ever seen.”

“It was a sort of tradition at the time,” Sam told her. “Whenever a child died, sometimes they'd preserve the kid's favorite toy in a glass case; put it next to the headstone or crypt.”

Wind blew in the mausoleum, sending a chill down your spine.

“Notice anything strange here?” Dean asked.

“Ah, where do I start?” remarked Sarah.

Sam snickered. 

“No, that's not what I mean. Look at the urns,” said Dean.

“Yeah. There’s only four. Where’s the dad?” you questioned.

***

You and Dean discovered that Isaiah’s body had been buried in that same cemetery away from the rest of his family. You returned there that night with Sarah in tow. 

You stood watch with Sarah while the boys dug the hole down to Isaiah’s corpse. 

“You guys seem to be uncomfortably comfortable with this,” she said.

Sam climbed out of the hole laboriously. “Well, ah, this isn't exactly the first grave we've dug. Still think I'm a catch?”

You giggled when Dean’s shovel tapped something hard. “Think I've got something.” He cracked the coffin open to reveal Isaiah’s rotten bones. You helped him out of the ground and began pouring salt and kerosene over the body. 

“You've been a real pain in the ass, Isaiah. Good riddance.” Dean tossed the match he’d struck down on top of the body. 

“God, I will never get used to that smell,” you commented.

“What? Burning flesh?” the older Winchester turned his head to you.

You made a face and scrunched up your nose to which Dean just smirked at you and chuckled.

***

You returned to Evelyn’s house soon after to make sure the job was complete and bury the painting. You and Dean remained outside and told Sam to go in with Sarah. You and Dean smiled at each other before turning the radio up. A love ballad played loudly through the speakers, and Sam turned to the two of you. You both snickered at the “what the fuck” gesture he was giving you. Sam motioned for the two of you to cut the music. You sighed and turned it off.

Before you and Dean could say a word to each other, the door slammed shut behind Sam and Sarah. You and Dean jumped out of the car and ran across the lawn, trying your best to unlock it. 

“Guys! Hey! Is that you?” Sam called from inside.

“Sammy, you alright?” the older brother asked. Moments later, you got a call from Sam.

“Tell me you slammed the front door,” you said after you answered.

“Nope, it wasn't me. I think it was the little girl,” he told you.

“The little girl? What girl?”

“What’s he saying?” Dean interjected, leaning close to your ear and the phone.

“Yeah, she's out of the painting. I think it might've been her all along,” Sam said.

You snorted humorlessly. “The dad was trying to warn us all along. He was looking down at her the whole time.”

“Hey, hey, hey, let's recap later all right? Just get us out of here," the younger brother rushed out.

“Well, Dean’s trying to pick the lock, but the door won’t budge.”

“Well, knock it down!”

“Okay, smartass, just let me get my battering ram,” you remarked.

“(Y/N), the damn thing is coming!”

“I know, I know, just hold it off til we figure something out. Get some salt or iron or something,” you responded. “Stay on the phone with me!”

Moments later, you heard Sam say to himself, “What kind of house doesn't have salt? Low-sodium freaks.” Another minute or so went by before he spoke back into the phone. “Uh, (Y/N), give me a sec, don't go anywhere.”

You and Dean began to walk around the outside looking for an alternative entrance. A bit of yelling and crashing was heard on the other end of the phone. “You okay, dude?”

“Yeah, for now,” he responded.

“How’re we gonna waste her?” you asked.

“I don't know, she was already cremated. There's nothing left to burn.”

Dean got close to the phone again. 

“Then how's she still around?” you challenged.

“There must be something else!” Sam went silent on the other end, but you could faintly hear Sarah’s voice.

“(Y/N), Sarah said the doll might have the kid's real hair. Human remains; same as bones.”

“The mausoleum,” you and Dean said in unison. 

“Hang tight, Sam,” you said, snapping your phone shut. You and Dean sprinted back to the car, and Dean drove as fast and as wildly as he possibly could.

“One of these days, your driving’s gonna fucking kill us all,” you said, gripping the leather of the seat next to you and the door. 

“Not now, (Y/N),” he responded evenly, driving even faster. He plowed straight through the fence of the cemetery and drove right up to the mausoleum. You and Dean jumped out of the car and hurried into the building.

Dean pounded the door of the glass box containing the doll with the butt of his gun, and then went to walk out of the mausoleum. “Come on, Dean,” he grimaced. “Cover your eyes!” He told you. He shot at the box, and you shielded your face as he did so. You leapt back into action and knocked away more of the glass with your hands, cutting them as you did so. You ignored the burning in your palms and took the doll out of its case. 

You held the doll’s hair over the lighter, which Dean was having trouble lighting. “Come on, come on!” he said. Thankfully, the lighter caught the hairs of the doll and sent it up in flames. You dropped it on the floor between you and Dean and watched the rest of the doll burn.

Dean pulled out his phone moments later to call his brother. “Sam, you good?” He breathed a sigh of relief and hung up the phone.

You looked down at your bloodied hands. Dean followed your gaze. “(Y/N), you maniac, what were you doin’ pawin' at that glass with your bare hands, huh?”

“It seemed like a good idea in the moment,” you mumbled.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” He guided you back to the car. He held your wrists and sat you down in the front seat of his car. He went to his trunk and returned a few moments later. He sat next to you and gingerly began wiping down your hands. You hissed and grabbed his hand at the pain. He looked back up to you and paused momentarily.

“Sorry,” you said.

“All good,” he responded and went back to work. He gently cleaned your wounds with an alcohol-soaked rag and began to wrap up your left hand. You watched as he worked, heart swelling at the kind gesture.

“Thank you,” you said. 

“You’d do the same for me,” he muttered.

“I would,” you affirmed, smiling. 

He picked a piece of glass out of your right hand. You hissed again. 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he said. “This one’s probably gonna need stitches.” He handed you his flask. “Drink this.”

You did as told and took a sip, swallowing sharply as you felt the first prick of the needle in your palm. “I’m not trying to be a little bitch. I’m really not when it comes to pain,” you said. “I can finish stitchin’ me up on my own if you wanna get back to Sam—”

“No. Let me,” he responded authoritatively. He looked up through his eyelashes at you before returning his attention to your fingers. He ran his along yours and gingerly cleaned the cuts, giving special attention to the deeper ones before bandaging the exterior of your hands. You flexed them painfully.

“Thank you. Seriously,” you said softly.

“Any time,” he responded.

***

“This was archived in the county records. The Merchant's adopted daughter, Melanie. Know why she was up for adoption? 'Cause her real family was murdered in their beds," Dean explained to you. “Who'd suspect her? Sweet little girl. So then she kills Isaiah and his family. The old man takes the blame. His spirit's been trying to warn people ever since.”

“Huh,” you said. “Psycho bitch.”

He scoffed. “You know you’re talking about a kid, right?”

“Yeah. Psycho bitch all the same.”

You and Dean were waiting outside of the auction house for Sam to finish talking to Sarah. You and he leaned against the car, watching Sarah and Sam talking at the door. Sam turned away from her before turning back moments later. He grabbed Sarah’s waist and pulled him to her, kissing her deeply. 

“That's my boy,” Dean smiled.

“Alright, perv,” you remarked. You shoved him down into the car.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth @favoritefandoms27 @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h

quite a few tags are broken; so sorry, my loves!! make sure you have my blog notifs on so you don't miss a chapter, and please let me know if ive misspelled your blog name!

[yu-winchester]

Rational Thinking Masterlist

I don't own these images but I did compile them.

Short Series Masterlist guide and other goodies I made instead of writing. || Here lies my full Masterlist || Enjoy!

Playlist:

"We would gladly feast on those who seek to destroy us. Not just pretty words."

Chapter One: (Very Irrational) Rational Thinking

In which we face danger, extend friendship, confront betrayal, and find our freedom.

Chapter Two: Haven't You Heard?

In which we investigate dubious rumors and seek retribution.

Chapter Three: All The Best People (Are Crazy)

In which we take action, reuniting with friends through the comforts of the past.

Chapter Four: To Maintain the Lie

In which we seek to change our fate...

Chapter Five: Catch Me if You Can

In which we face our fears.

[yu-winchester]

❝ love is a choice ❞ masterlist

summary: what was meant to be a simple, calm trip to an intergalactic museum ended up becoming a a trip through memories the doctor rather wanted to forget. only they weren't her memories. they were yours.

pairing: thirteenth doctor x reader (primary), eleventh doctor x reader

word count: 101k (dec. 20, 2022)

warnings: will update, but check chapter by chapter

prologue

chapter i

chapter ii

chapter iii

chapter iv

chapter v

chapter vi

chapter vii

chapter viii

chapter ix

chapter x

chapter xi

chapter xii

chapter xiii

chapter xiv

chapter xv

chapter xvi

chapter xvii

[yu-winchester]

Challenging fate (Tom Riddle x reader)

soulmate!au

Epilogue

Masterlist

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 Epilogue

Description: There were a lot of unexpected things happening the day of the Battle of Hogwarts. Being send back into the past to change the course of history was definitely one of them.

781 words

“Mom!”, your seven-year-old son shouted from upstairs making you roll your eyes. “Yes honey?”, you called back while simultaneously concentrating on the charms that prepared dinner and on the two-year-old girl zooming around the kitchen. You were just glad your ten-year-old recently got really into reading and was sitting quietly on the couch. Sitting there like that you had to admit that he looked even more like a carbon copy of his father, just like his younger brother. Their two sisters looked more like you, but they still had Toms eyes.

“(Y/D/N) won’t stop taking the Gameboy! She’s going to break it!”, he shouted angrily, referring to your four-year-old daughter. Before you could answer him, the front door opened and in stepped your lovely husband of eleven years. Eventhough you were barely over thirty, you were married for that long already. He wanted to marry right after school - being the old fashioned way he was - and after three years you finally agreed, not being able to say no anymore, because honestly he was your soulmate and fuck what everyone else thinks.

“Hello my love”, he greeted you first, giving you a soft kiss. “How was it at the ministry today?”, you asked him stroking his cheek gently. “Actually today wasn’t as bad, somehow nearly everybody managed to do their job without the help of the minister, so I could actually focus on being the minister for a change”, he chuckled, kissing your hand. You grinned, but the moment was broken by your son yelling for you again.

“Would you mind? I gotta concentrate on dinner and that little devil over there”, you sighed with a smile and he grinned. “Of course darling, you just make sure not to overdo it, wouldn’t want the little one to get stressed”, he scolded you, softly stroking your prominent belly. “Love you”, you told him and he just kissed you again. Saying hello to (Y/S/N) who was waving at him, not looking up from his book, and picking up your youngest daughter who was clutching onto her dads legs the moment she saw him, he made his way upstairs. Turning back to your busy kitchen, you were thinking about how you couldn’t believe everything turned out to be so perfect.

——————

“She finally fell asleep”, Tom sighed, getting into bed next to you. “I don’t know where she takes the energy from”, you giggled quietly, letting Tom pull you into his arms after he turned off the light. “She definitely got that from you”, he said his chest moving with silent laughter. “Hey!”, you jokingly complained, but snuggled closer to him at the same time.

“We are invited to dinner at Draco’s on Saturday”, Tom let you know, Draco probably having invited him at work. Even after over ten years it was still weird to you sometimes to be on friendly terms with Draco (and the other Slytherins), but after Tom was sorted into Slytherin again (of course) he immediately took back the place on top of all classes - constantly battling for it with your sister.

And after the other Slytherins saw how gifted he was - eventhough he was only a halfblood - they immediately began to hang out with him.

“Mhm, I wanted to visit Hermione tomorrow evening, do you think you could take the kids?”, you asked and he immediately answered “Of course my love.” After a few moments of silence Tom began to speak again. “You know, I am so glad that you came into my life. And how you saved it”, he told you so quietly that you almost didn’t catch it. He told you this regularly, but it always hit a certain spot in your heart. “I’m glad I did too, and I’m so thankful for the children aswell”, you smiled, not even trying to imagine how your life would look like if you didn’t go back in time.

“I hope you know this is the last one though”, you added with a laugh, pointing to your round belly. “We’ll see about that”, Tom said and stroked your stomach gently, and you could just hear the smirk in his voice. “If you push out the next one we can talk about it”, you told him threateningly and bumped his chest with your finger, making him chuckle.

Tom sighed heavily, his hand stopping its movement on your belly and resting there comfortably. “Jokes aside love, I hope you know how incredible you are for…everything”, he just said for the lack of a better word and you leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I love you”, you whispered, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “I love you”, he whispered back and gave your forehead a gentle kiss.

——————————

It’s over I’m gonna cry ngl helppp! Anyway, I hope y’all enjoyed this fic, and thank you thank you thank you for all of your kind and sweet comments, that is the most motivating thing ever!! I’ll definitely try and write more, just gotta get my ass up smh <3

@salleun @darkenwolfie @dannalikestoread

[yu-winchester]

Harry Potter Masterlist

UPDATED 11/26/2020

————————————————————————

Main Masterlist

————————————————————————

Harry Potter 

  Something to Fight For

 Part 1

Part 2

————————————————————————

Draco Malfoy

   What You’ll Sorely Miss

   My Git

   Hazards of Lying

   Sectumsempra

————————————————————————

Sirius Black

   Bad Dreams

   We’re Having A Pup 

   Finally

————————————————————————

Remus Lupin

   Pick Up Lines

   Meddling Friends

————————————————————————

Tom Riddle

     His Little Witch 

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

More to come!

[yu-winchester]

Prologue: The Dying Girl

Doctor Who : Multishot

Tenth Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 11011

Warnings: BLAST FROM THE PAST! Rewatching Doctor Who has given me a reignited obsession and an idea for a series. What could go wrong. 

Request: This is just from my own head 😊 ​

A/N: This introduction is a bit long, but all the information is necessary. The coming parts will be set farther in the future, this prologue simply tells you how the reader met the Doctor and why she chose to travel with him. 

There will be eight total parts. Four will be with the Tenth Doctor and four will be with the Eleventh Doctor. 

Prologue: The Dying Girl {You Are Here}

Part 1: The Sun God

Part 2: The Tonic

Part 3: The Ending Song

Part 4: The Dream

Part 5: The Regeneration

Part 6: The Lost Shoes

Epilogue: The Vanishing Act

Finale: All Of Time And Space

My life was decided for me. Everything about me was rewritten, reprogramed, to be something out of my control.

The dying girl.

I never wanted to be the dying girl.

How terrifying to be labeled something so ironic, so final. Finding out my label wasn’t supposed to be a part of the plan. But here I am doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing: dying.

The Doctor – the only good thing to come out of me discovering my destiny – he should be here. He would want to be here. He would need to be here.

But with me on my deathbed, I want to tell you how I got here. Perhaps it’s just to stall and see if the Doctor will appear to say goodbye. Knowing him he’s probably spending every last second trying to find a cure.

With a life predestined for me, I want to tell you about the things that fought against it.

The Doctor. The fiancé. The zybanium watch.

Weiterlesen

[yu-winchester]

❝ love is a choice ❞ chapter xii

summary: what was meant to be a simple, calm trip to an intergalactic museum ended up becoming a a trip through memories the doctor rather wanted to forget. only they weren't her memories. they were yours.

pairing: thirteenth doctor x reader (primary), eleventh doctor x reader

word count: 5.0k

warnings: bad past relationships

author's note: welcome to the chapter that i have been WAITING FOR!! i've had this chapter in mind for months and now there time is finally here!! that being said, i am very, very sorry for what you are about to read

The dance club melted away. The interior of the Williams-Pond living room came into view. The four of you were sitting on the couch in front of the television, a bad reality show playing at full volume. You rested a bowl of custard on your lap, all of you dipping cod fish fingers into it to recreate the first dish she consumed (and enjoyed because there were many she ate and despised) when she regenerated into her eleventh face.

“Yeah,” the Doctor nodded. “It’s okay.”

“What are you all doing?” Ryan questioned in reference to the food the four of you were sharing.

“We,” The Doctor prepped for the inevitable confusion/disgust. “Are eating fish fingers and custard.”

“You’re eating what and what?” Yaz gasped while Graham quietly gagged.

“Fish fingers and custard, I’ll have you know, is an absolute delicacy!”

The Doctor turned her back to them with a mask of indignation. Really, she just wanted to have a moment to herself before the storm that was about to happen in front of them. Every moment after that dance was one more moment towards the last day the Doctor had with you. Your time together was almost like a hill. The journey up was long, arduous, but from the top, you feel invincible—all it takes is a single misstep for you to tumble down the other side.

“If I had a restaurant,” The Doctor mumbled with a mouthful of fish fingers. “This would be all I’d serve.” 

“Yeah right,” Amy scoffed. “You running a restaurant.”

“I’ve run restaurants before. Who do you think invented the Yorkshire pudding?” 

Rory chuckled at first, but then his face loosened with realization. “You didn’t.” 

The Doctor held a fish finger covered in a massive dollop of custard. “Pudding yet savory. Sound familiar?” 

The four of you were meant to observe the black cubes that were scattered around almost an entire year ago. In all that time, they’d done nothing but end up as paperweights or something to throw into the trash when you don’t have the space anymore. After day 113, you had about given up on trying to figure them out in favor of maintaining your sanity. 

“Mr. Pond,” Amy took the bowl from the Doctor’s hand when it was practically empty. “Come help me put these away?” 

You saw her plan before it was even fully in motion. Amy wasn’t as slick as she liked to think, but she was definitely as persistent as she made herself out to be. 

You hadn’t told the Doctor how you felt yet. In that time, though, you’d gotten better at being around him without your tongue becoming lead in your mouth. Every so often, you’d fumble through a conversation by the skin of your teeth, but those interactions were becoming far and few between. You’d even gotten back into your routine of going at each other’s throats, only to you, it felt less feral and more playful. You were happy with what you had with him, platonic or otherwise.

Regardless of your contentment with your relationship with the Doctor, you knew that Amy was not. She took any and every chance she got to let you know that you needed to get it together and tell him. If there was even the possibility of a moment where she could get the two of you alone, she manipulated the scene so that she had the two of you right where she wanted you. At that time, she was forcing Rory and herself out of the room so they could “clean the dishes together” as if it wasn’t an easy, one-person task. Most times, though, those manipulations ended in failure. Either you chickened out or the Doctor couldn't stand by you long enough for you to get a word out.

“Well,” The Doctor said with an abrupt jump off the couch. “I should get going. I told Kate that I would discuss the cubes again with her soon.” 

“Do you have to go just yet? I mean, the cubes haven’t done anything, right?” You pretended to be blasé about it, but you really wanted him to stay a few extra moments. “And they still have a couple contestants left if you wanna, you know, finish watching before you have to go.”

The Doctor looked like he was contemplating his next move before returning to his place next to you. “Alright, I suppose I can stay until the end of the episode. You know, I’m really starting to see the appeal of these reality TV shows. They’re all so... real! With real people and real things that happen to those real people!” 

You sucked in a large breath through your teeth, “I hate to break it to you, Doctor, but most of those shows are scripted. The people are real but…”

The Doctor’s face practically fell, and a pang of slight guilt filled your system, “Really? Even the American one with the dancing children and the mean lady?” 

“I think the trauma from that show was real, just not the drama.”

“Oh, look at you,” The Doctor rejoiced with a clap. “Rhyming! I must be wearing off on you, aren’t I? Next thing you know, you’ll be making those puns you hate so much.” 

“Oh, shut it,” You giggled, pressing your shoulder to his in a show of affection. “I don’t hate puns, I just hate yours.” 

“So you say, but I think that you’re starting to like starshine!” The Doctor surmised. 

If you admitted that you really were starting to like that nickname, the Doctor would never let you hear the end of it. If he found out that it made your heart beat just a little bit faster, he would boast until something else gathered his attention, then continue once he remembered. Sometimes you weighed the cost of having to live with the bragging against without, just so you could hear the nickname just a bit more. Pride overruled your choice in the end.  

“Did you really invent the Yorkshire pudding? Or are you just messing again?” You asked out of genuine curiosity and a hint of attempted diversion. 

“No, I really did! I also made the popsicles but some child from California beat me to the patent,” The Doctor’s tone got surprisingly serious for a beat. “I still hold a grudge against Frank Epperson to this very day.” 

That same desire to learn more about the Doctor reappeared after its short-lived dormancy. Instead of the interest in the Doctor’s sad past, you wanted to know the small things. All the times the Doctor said something outlandish, you would brush it off as another one of his idiosyncrasies. Now, you would be happy with any little piece you could get. “What else have you done, huh? What? Were you D.B. Cooper too? Banksy?” 

“I actually was Banksy, yes, so you can be sure that these cubes weren’t me.”

Graham gasped, “You weren’t kidding about that?”

“Seriously?” You gaped. “We’ve known each other– what? Eight years now?” 

“And what a wonderful eight years it’s been!” The Doctor exclaimed, trying to keep the sadness at bay. 

Despite having spent so much time together in the past year, what with the cubes and all, you knew that the Doctor was starting to miss the three of you. He was beginning to understand that your adventures wouldn’t be as frequent as they had once been. Adulthood, real adulthood with bills and jobs and responsibilities, crept up on you. You weren’t able to drop everything at the sound of the TARDIS’s engines to galavant across alien planets. It sucked, but that was just the reality of your situation. 

That being said, you were a little bit okay with the cubes appearing on Earth. It meant that the Doctor wasn’t popping off in his box to fly away for however many months, only to return with the offer of meeting Stevie Nicks in the 70s. He was there, present, with all of you in all your adulthood glory. He was impatient as all hell during your time together, but he stayed. Even if it was just for a year, which in the grand scheme of his life was nothing more than a blip, it meant a lot to you. 

“And in those eight years you didn’t tell us any of this?” 

“Well, who knows?” The Doctor shrugged. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you all of it. Maybe even get into my time as a ghostwriter for Nancy Drew! And at one point the Rainbow Magic series but please do not give that information to anyone.”

“Don’t worry I won’t,” You laughed. Your hand inched towards the Doctor’s, and from the corner of your eye, you could see that the Doctor noticed. His hand remained where it had been and stayed there when you put yours on his. “And I would really like to hear all of it one day.”

The Doctor’s fingers stilled in yours but didn’t make a move to retract them. You watched as they shifted beneath yours. His thumb brushed against the back of your hand, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

You’d fallen into the trap that Amy and River had set for you. Both of them telling you that the Doctor had feelings for you made you believe it too. So did how you and the Doctor danced together that night at Club Tredecim. When he relaxed in your arms, when you felt the beat of his hearts against your chest, it felt right.

You considered that you were deluding yourself; love can do that to a person. But even if you were wrong, you would rather be that than live with the thought of what might have been, even if it would hurt like hell. You wanted to choose to love the Doctor, and you hoped that if he felt the same, he would choose to love you back.

“Listen, I-” But you didn’t want to talk anymore. Maybe the term 'now or never' was obsolete when you're a time traveler, but...

Your lips just barely ghosted the Doctor’s. They were soft, warm, and completely different from how you thought they’d feel. They also weren’t moving.

It was incredibly difficult to peel your lips from the Doctor’s. Not because you loved the kiss, even though you did- but because you already knew what you would see when you pulled away: the Doctor, his face contorted in an expression of shock, confusion, and the emotion that broke you as much as it might him, sorrow.

The Doctor’s mouth did that thing, the thing where it bobbed like a fish. You used to love that face. It meant that you were able to catch the Doctor with something that not even he could predict. And to see it right there in front of you meant that he didn’t see this coming. It meant that he didn’t feel what you felt. You made a mistake. This was wrong. You were wrong.

“I-” You could feel your heart trying to crawl up your throat. “S-Shit, I- I thought that- I wasn’t- Fuck, I’m so sorry-”

“Y/N, plea-” Why did it hurt more for him to use your real name?

“No, don’t! D-Don’t, um, I- I should go-!”

You were scrambling in every sense. You were struggling to rip the blanket the four of you shared from your body. It clung to you, the fabric sticking to your skin like a fucking parasite. When you finally managed, you couldn’t even jam your shoes on without almost tripping over the rug while doing it. And all the while, you were just saying words in no particular order. Whatever came to mind first, you said it. It didn’t matter if it made sense. Nothing needed to, because nothing did. 

“W-Wow, so, I’m just- Gotta- I should- I’m so sorry,” The tears had already reached your chin, but you didn’t even remember feeling them until one dropped onto your hand. You frantically wiped it off with the sleeve of your jacket that you were heaving on. “I knew I didn’t- Why would I deserve it-?” 

“Hey, wait, don’t say-” 

“I should’ve just left it alone- Shit! Where the fuck are my keys?” You cried out. 

“What’s going-” Amy came out from the kitchen following the sudden eruption of noise. 

“Sorry!” You babbled so that Amy didn’t have enough time to take in the situation. “It’s, um, work emergency!” 

“What-? But-” 

“Gotta go, I love you! Amy! I love you, Amy!” 

You didn’t wait for Amy’s reply but heard her shout at the Doctor through the door, “What did you do?” 

The isolation of your car only brought you mild security. You didn’t feel any kind of safety until you sped down the street, further and further away from Amy’s house and the fucking blue box parked out front. Even looking at her, the roof especially, was like looking at a treasured photograph, scratched and yellowed with age. 

You knew you shouldn’t have been driving in those conditions. People got into accidents over lesser things than the inability to see through tears. You slowed to a halt in an empty parking space by the pavement. You felt bad for whoever lived in the houses surrounding you because if they looked outside their window, they’d see someone with tears streaking their cheeks. Someone hunched over the wheel while trying just to get a proper breath into their lungs.

Colors began to blur together, like sidewalk chalk in the rain. You couldn’t see any shapes through the screen of your tears, and the lines of the book you were trying to read were nothing but black blobs. Eventually, you just gave up trying to hold them back and slammed the book shut. 

You squeezed your eyes tightly to push the building salt water out faster. If you forced them out, maybe you could be done and over with this crying fest. Even though people didn’t often come to the lake at this time, there was still the risk of someone deciding to have a sunset date. The last thing you wanted was for some people to walk up on you having a breakdown. It wasn’t even finals week yet, so you had no excuse, really. 

The lake was always the one place on campus where you felt safe. You always sat in the pink chair because it gave you the best west-facing view for when the sun went down. 

You could think there. Breathe. And you needed nothing more than to take several thousand deep breaths after the afternoon that you had. 

The day hadn’t started so horrible, but when you were meant to meet up with your partner, you’d been ambushed with a conversation that you really didn’t want to have in the student lounge. When you had asked to go somewhere perhaps a little quieter, he refused, saying that if you did, you would find some excuse to rush off. You’d say that you had a huge essay due in the morning that couldn’t wait or that your professor’s office hours were going to be over soon. Worst of all was that he might have been right. 

You’d hoped that going to your favorite spot might give your mind a little more clarity, but it was still cluttered with the exact words from him that repeated over and over. 

“Excuse- Ow!” 

One word from an unknown source, and you sprang into action. The book you’d closed was suddenly launched at your unsuspecting target. You didn’t even see his face before he crumpled to the ground after a direct hit to the forehead. You only caught a quick glimpse of gray hair before your adrenaline died, and reason was resurrected. 

You’d just fucking hit an old guy.

Regret flooded through you in an instant. “Oh, my- Shit! Fuck, I’m so sorry, sir!” 

You ran towards the man to help him up, but he was already rising to his feet. 

“It-It’s alright!” His voice was heavy with an accent. What was it? You were so discombobulated, but it was right on the top of your tongue. 

“I’m sorry, I-I just got scared!” Was it Irish? 

“It’s quite fine, I assure-” Or one from Yorkshire? 

“I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?” Geordie? 

“No, not at all,” Oh. Oh, how could you miss it? Your own best friend was Scottish, you should’ve been able to spot that from a mile away. “Really, I’m alright. Are you?” 

You blinked blankly, “What?” 

“Well, I was coming here to see the, um, the sunset. A colleague of mine who works here says it’s one of the most gorgeous sights they’ve ever seen,” The man explained with a few fatigued huffs. “Wanted to see it for myself, but… I heard you crying.” 

“Oh,” You said before breaking off into a groan. You slapped the palms of your hands to your face, the tears that weren’t even dry yet seeping into your skin. “Oh, that’s so nice of you. And I hit you with a book, oh my God!”

“Really, I’m fine,” The man brushed off some of the sand from his jacket, which you noticed was torn at the left shoulder. He saw you eyeing the rip, “Ah, this. I was– well, I was trying to grab some nuggets from the cafeteria. Apparently the volleyball players on the women’s team are pretty aggressive when it comes to those.” 

You hesitantly snickered, “They’re pretty vicious, aren’t they?” 

“Indeed,” The man agreed. He pulled out a black wallet with an ID inside. He presented it to you for a few seconds before stuffing it into his pocket. “Dr. John Smith. I lecture at St. Luke’s University in Bristol. I’m here for a conference but just, you know, wanted to see the lake.” 

“I bet you didn’t expect to be attacked twice,” You murmured guiltily. “I’m Y/N, I’m just a student here. I should let you-” 

“You never answered my question.” 

You noted a slight shaking in his legs while he uprighted himself. “Do you wanna sit down?” 

Dr. Smith mentally weighed his options but eventually followed you to the array of painted wooden beach chairs dug deep into the sand.

“So,” Dr. Smith started once he was seated in the yellow chair next to yours. “What’s got you so upset?” 

You bit your bottom lip while trying to think of how to say this. You were never the best at these kinds of things, but you hoped that talking to someone with no prior opinion of you– if you overlooked throwing a hardcover novel at his head– might make it a little easier. “I don't know. Nothing big, just… love? I guess? Or lack of, maybe?” 

“Ahh, love,” Dr. Smith sighed dolefully. “I know all about that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Of course,” He shrugged passively. “I’ve lived a long life. I’ve fallen in love many times, but… Well, there’s always one that sticks with you, isn’t there? Sometimes, it’s your first love and others will be the one you lost. But there’s always one.” 

You weren’t sure if you had had that yet. Yeah, there were romances that you looked at fondly, but you couldn’t pinpoint the one that stuck out above the rest. If you had to, you might say this one. So far, it’s been the one that left you the most hollowed out once it was over. You hoped that would change someday. 

“I’ll tell you my tragic love story if you tell me yours.” 

You instantly wanted to put the words back into your mouth. This man was a complete stranger to you. You couldn’t just say shit like that and expect him to– 

Dr. Smith was laughing. And it didn’t seem like he was shocked by your retort, not at all. He was laughing like someone who would expect this kind of behavior from you, not some ignorant to your dry wit. “O-Okay! I’ll take you up on that. 

“There was someone. A long time ago. We both traveled together, you see. At first, we didn’t like each other. We were always fighting, driving our friends who traveled with us to the brink of madness. But then that was because we were so similar. Too similar. The two of us might as well have been mirrors of one another. And that… I think that made both of us terrified. More so myself than them- I'm not so sure about that now- but that was because I knew they could hurt me… One look at them smiling the brightest I’d ever seen them and I knew. So, I started running. Then they did too. We ran in opposite directions to the point that when I finally decided I could turn around… I couldn’t see them anymore. I’d lost them.” 

“That sounds like something I would do. Well, I guess it sounds like something I have done,” You swallowed the cry that was building in your throat. Dr. Smith was waiting patiently next to you, but you could sense his anticipation. “Running, I mean. That’s kinda how my last relationship ended. And some of my other ones too. We were close to getting real, I think. We were talking about after graduation and life and it just… I started throwing myself into my work. He said that I was doing it because I was afraid. That I was a coward, because I was trying to get away. Then, he said that…” 

This was the blow that took you down. “That I deserve to be alone.” 

You knew it wasn’t true, but it didn’t mean that those words didn’t try to tattoo themselves into your insides. The more you kept repeating it, the faster the ink dried. You were so desperately trying to stop yourself, but it wasn’t like the human brain was adept at listening to commands. 

“And I know he was just mad-!” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Dr. Smith interrupted. “No one deserves to be alone. No one deserves to be told that. Whoever told you that is a complete idiot. A total moron! Should be ashamed of himself!” 

“But he wasn’t wrong. At least, not about me being scared.” 

The truth was that this was a pattern, and one you didn’t even mean to continue. Most times, when you got like this, the relationship fizzled out on its own, like a campfire that didn’t get poked enough. This was the first one that ended up in an explosion with fiery debris. You’d felt horrible on all accounts, regardless of whether or not the end was incendiary, but you didn’t have to confront yourself with your inadequacies until someone pointed them out. You didn’t have to force yourself to come to the conclusion that you really were terrified.

“I had a friend once who said that love was a choice,” Dr. Smith began. His eyes remained fixed on the water, but you could see he was more present than he wanted to appear. “She had said it to my star… Well, suffice it to say that I spent a very long time trying to figure out what that meant. If I could have chosen not to love them, I would. It might have saved us both the pain. But then, I understood. You choose love despite the pain, because there always will be in the end. As dark as that sounds, it’s true. And I’ll always… I’ll always wonder how things might have been different if I made another decision.” 

That was really a beautiful way to look at it… But was it actually that easy? It didn’t feel like the entirety of love could be defined as something someone can choose. When you were with some of your exes, you didn’t feel like there was any decision to make. There was only one option in front of you, and it was one you were comfortable making time and time again. 

Maybe you just hadn’t found a love worth choosing yet. That was a nice thought. 

“Do you still love them?” You spotted the lack of a ring on his left hand. 

Dr. Smith smiled wistfully, “I do.” 

“Do you know if they’re still out there?” You wondered. 

“I haven’t seen them in years,” Dr. Smith shook his head woefully. “They’re gone from my life.” 

“Mmm,” You hummed. “Not gone then.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“They might still be out there. By some beautiful miracle, it might not be too late to reconcile. I know it’s probably just hopefulness but… Hope is a good thing, isn’t it?” 

Dr. Smith smiled, reaching his eyes, “That it is.” 

“Do you know what I think?” You asked gently.  

“What’s that?” 

“I think that if life ever hands you that miracle and you get the chance to see them again, you should tell them– nothing else! You should tell them ‘I choose to love you.’” 

Dr. Smith pulled his eyes away from the lake to look at you. His eyes were questioning, but you would understand that his words were not. He said back, “I choose to love you.” 

“Exactly!” You nodded excitedly. “They’ll understand, I just know it.” 

You heard someone shout your name from the direction of the dorms. You recognized it as your roommate’s but made no move to respond. She could wait one moment. 

“Aren’t you going to go see your friend?” He asked with a slight head nod but not looking away. 

His question went unanswered. You rolled out of your chair and dropped to your knees beside the arm of his chair. For a moment, you stared at him. You look in every curled lock of wild gray hair, every wrinkle, every speck of color inside the blue of his eyes beneath those bushy brows. Your hand fell delicately against the apple of his cheeks, sunken slightly from age. His skin wasn’t soft like it had been before, but it was a welcoming sensation all the same. 

“It was him,” You whispered. “Wasn’t it?” 

"Maybe," Dr. Smith- the Doctor acknowledged. 

"I should've noticed," You chastised yourself, your lips curled into themselves to keep a sob inside. It didn't work. "I-I should've noticed that it was him. I know him… I just… I should have known it was him that day and maybe…" 

The Doctor brought his hand to yours. It felt so different from the Doctor you knew, but then, you'd never touched this Doctor's hand. You wouldn't ever really know what it felt like. You'd have to be content with only the idea of how it might have been to hold his hand. "Give yourself some credit. You were hurting." 

He was so much older. You knew the Doctor had completely different faces when he regenerated, but this… If it weren't for the eyes, and if it weren't for the gift of memory, you never would have even known. You might have lived the rest of your life thinking that this man was no more than a stranger passing by. Perhaps the Doctor just got his timing wrong again. 

You had seen the Doctor’s previous faces. You remembered how all eleven of them looked, and this one never appeared in TARDIS files. This face was new. He must have regenerated into him. And that meant there were probably years worth of things that he’d gone through. You wanted to know what those things were, who he’d met, but you needed to know if he had been alone through it all. You couldn’t be there, but you prayed upon the stars that he forsook his stubbornness and offered companionship to some lucky girl despite everything you said. 

“He looks so tired.” 

You heard your roommate again, this time more insistent. You couldn’t stay in this moment forever. That’s what she said, without having to say more than your name. 

“Just… can I hear him say it before I go?” 

You would never see this face again, and you only wanted to hear him call you, “Starshine.” 

Trying to bite back a choked, pathetic mixture of a laugh and a cry and failing, you lowered yourself back into your seat to the exact position you’d been in before. Even when you slipped back into the ignorance of the memory, the imprint of his cheek against your hand wouldn’t leave you. You turned your head to see your roommate with bags from the cafeteria. In an act of kindness, she said she’d grab you both dinner and some ice cream to dig into from the convenience store. “That’s my friend. I should–” 

When you looked back to tell Dr. Smith you needed to go, the yellow beach chair was empty. You didn’t see him anywhere nearby, and there didn’t even seem to be any trace that he was there with you at all; it was like he had just up and vanished. 

“Hey!” Your roommate greeted you. Her eyebrows furrowed at your concerned expression. “Everything alright?” 

“Um,” The fresh tears that weren’t there at the time dripped into the corner of your mouth. The saltiness tasted like regret. “Y-Yeah. Fine. So, what’d you get?”

“That lake…” Graham muttered. “I know that lake. I’ve seen it before.”

“Gamma Pictoris,” Yaz stated, turning to the Doctor. “You accidentally took us there when we were trying to get to Gamma Pictoris. We went to the wrong place. This place.”

“It was just as beautiful as they said it was… The TARDIS took me there,” The Doctor began, not looking at anyone. “Right before I transformed into this face… I guess it was a good thing I was already going through the regeneration process because that book really hurt!”

She was laughing, but there was nothing comedic in her smile. There was centuries of grief for the love that she never got to save. When she looked at the face before this one, she saw it in his smile too. All that mourning, but never really knowing what for. Because the worst part about losing you was that there was no finality. She’d lost so many before you and more after, but she knew where they were. Even if it was in death… or abandonment, she knew.

In some wry, cruel fashion, the Doctor never had an ending with you.

“Guess she took me there to remind me.”

“Remind you of what, Doc?” Graham asked.

To keep looking for that ending. “I have to make a phone call.”

The Doctor rushed to her feet, making a swift exit while the emerging image of Manhattan appeared behind the glass.

taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added through my ask box!!): @gurkiloni @nightmonkeyparker @science--hoes @lastpasttheposts @soolarity @aliengirl99 @bandananna @wherethesinslie @p1ssmagg0t

[yu-winchester]

Paradoxes and All That

Request by @the-gentleman-frog: Your stories are awesome do u think I could request something like all the doctors meeting up and u had been traveling since nine and started dating with like ten and the old doctors just being really happy that they found someone to love if u could thanks.

WC: 2.5K

A/N: This reads awkwardly, I know but I also just wanted to write so here you go! Hope it’s okay!

---

You don’t hear the sounds of the TARDIS from the outside much, but it sounds louder, much louder and in fact, as you run down the street to the alley the TARDIS was parked at, the thought that the Doctor was leaving you was deafening in your ears.

Almost reaching the TARDIS, you speed your steps, only to skid to a halt when the TARDIS was still in its place and the Doctor was standing right in front of it.

And… another TARDIS?

“What’s happening, Doctor?” You grab his hand, looking at the second TARDIS.

“I don’t know.”

Your eyes widen. “You hate not knowing.” You whisper mere seconds before the TARDIS doors open.

The Doctor and you share a look of concern before a familiar pair of worn out converse pops through first, followed by the flowing sway of a trench coat you hadn’t seen in a while.

“Doctor?” You whisper. Of course it was the Doctor! Who else would be in the TARDIS?

“Y/N!” The other Doctor cheers as he sees you, a smile brightening on his face and the Doctor- your Doctor, the current Doctor, tightens his grip on your hand.

You look between him and your Doctor several times. “Oh this is too weird.” You conclude and let go of the Doctor’s hand to bury your head in your hands for a second. You look up again with a forced smile and a deep breath. “Alright Doctors, I’ve been by your sides for, well, many regenerations but I’ve never seen more than one at a time.”

“Or you don’t remember.” Your Doctor corrects you and you glare at him.

“Oh you know, paradoxes and all that.” The younger Doctor adds before squaring up with your bow tie wearing Doctor. “So, you’re me?” He asks and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“And you’re me.” Your Doctor adjusts his bow tie with a smirk and you roll your eyes.

“And I’m Y/N. Great we’ve all met each other.” The Doctors give you matching grins as you glance between them and shake your head before settling on the younger doctor again. “Why are you here? And where am I?”

He glances back to the TARDIS and nods. “You’re in there, recovering from the flu you got on Galafrek.”

Galafrekan Flu. Right. You remember that, you were practically in a coma for a week. “And I’m here because of this!” He pulls out his psychic paper and opens it up, about to hold it out to show you before your Doctor takes it out of his hand. He pulls you close to him as you both look over the scribbled words.

“It’s just your name. Over and over again.”

“Yes and the TARDIS took me here.” He states and glances around the alley to find anything out of the ordinary. “Why?”

“Because I was curious.”

Your voice pulls the doctor’s confused glances to you, but the only problem was that wasn’t your voice. It sounded like you, but you hadn’t said a thing.

You shake your head and shrug before the three of you turn around.

There you were at the end of the alley with a young and carefree smile on your face and just to your right stood yet another Doctor wearing a leather jacket.

The Doctors seem to be just as surprised a you were to see another one you them alongside you because no one said anything, only staring at each other expectantly.

“Alright, I’ll bite.” You clear your throat and turn to the Doctor. “You let me go outside when my hair looked like that?” You joke and the Doctor laughs softly with you.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Young you calls out as she ran a hand over her hair, trying to figure out what was wrong with it.

“Nothing!” You call out.

“Sorry sweetie, if I maybe if I remembered this day, I’d of told you.” He counters and you hold back your grin.

“You called us here?” The other doctor next to you calls out as the other you and her Doctor finally approaches you all.

She shrugs. “I wanted to know what would happen.”

You furrow your brows and look into the pair of eyes its been the longest since you’ve looked into. “And you let me?”

“Well, if I hadn’t I wouldn’t hear the end of it for weeks.” He explains.

Both Doctors next to you speak up. “It’s true.” They say at the same time and you scoff in offense.

“No it’s not!” You defend yourself the same time the other you does as well.

“Oh, this is going to be weird.” Your Doctor concludes and you nod, feeling his slip his hand into yours between your close bodies.

“Anyone care for breakfast?” The Doctor in the trench coat looks at a café across the street when he speaks and with no objections, the 5 of you head off.

---

You order for everyone while they got a seat since you knew everyone’s orders from over the years and actually, well, being yourself.

“You’re the next Doctor?” The youngest doctor asks the correct Doctor who nods his head and takes a bite of the scone you bought him. He turns to you next, sipping on your tea as you listen to him. “And you’re still traveling with me? With us?”

A small smile joins your face, just like the one on your Doctors who is trying to hide it behind his cup. This Doctor was too young. This Doctor doesn’t know what your relationship became over the years. Traveling doesn’t even begin to describe it. “Yes, I am.” You settle on, finding your Doctor’s hand under the table. “Can’t get rid of me that easily, Doctor.”

“Ah, wouldn’t dream of it.” The last Doctor says as he joins in the smiling. He knows a little more than the other Doctor. Not all, but you and the Doctor had been dating for months already when you got sick. That’s why he was so worried when you woke up that morning on Galafrek more sick than you ever had been in your life. He was so thankful it was only a flu and with enough sleep, you would be fine.

But still, he doesn’t know everything.

The youngest Doctor noticed the touching. He noticed the glances, the smiles, but most importantly, he noticed the ring sitting on your finger. He was sure you hadn’t meant for them to see it as your hand had been under the table all meal, but you scratched your nose at one point and he caught sight of it.

“You’re married.” He blurts out and the current conversation dies as everyone looks at him and then to you.

Your sat there with your mouth gaping open. “What?” You chuckle awkwardly and sip your tea.

He nods to your hand. “The ring.” He points out and you look to your hand just like everyone else, seeing the wedding ring as plain as day. You tap it gently against your cup.

“Oh. I suppose I am, yes.” You fight back a smile.

Your Doctor rests his hand on your thigh and you glance at him briefly to see him stuffing custard into his face.

“We got married?” Your quiet and shocked voice finally pulls your Doctor’s eating to a halt. You nod at your younger self, watching her eyes twinkle with hope and you know, even then, you were hoping it would be to the Doctor. “I can’t believe it.”

Her Doctor spares her a look but she’s too busy focusing on your ring donning hand. “Why not?” He sounded offended for her, that the thought of you marrying was so far beyond imagination that even you couldn’t believe it was happening.

She shrugs and meets your eyes. Over your lifetime, you’ve become really good at reading yourself. And right now, with that look, you were telling yourself it was because you could only ever dream of marrying the Doctor.

You smile at yourself, a smile that meant dreams sometimes comes true.

“Who to?” Your trench coat wearing Doctor speaks up from behind his hand in his face that he was leaning on.

Your smile turns to him now. “Spoilers, Doctor.” You whisper.

It was pointless though, every Doctor and his Y/N knows the truth now.

Spoilers meant you couldn’t tell him because spoilers means a future with him. A future where you, Y/N Y/L/N, marry the Doctor. Just like both of you have always hoped.

Your phone rings and you pull it out of your pocket only to see it silent. “Sorry, it’s mine.” The younger you shakes her phone before reading her message. “Rose is ready to be picked up, Doctor.”

Oh, Rose. That’s a name you haven’t heard in a while.

For a moment, the thought crosses your head to tell them all everything. Everything bad that’s going to happen in the years to come and you want to, you truly do but your Doctor knows you all to well.

“Spoilers.” He whispers in your ear and presses a kiss to your temple that you thought went unnoticed by everyone.

“We better get going, then.” Her Doctor stands up and reaches a hand out for her, which she happily takes to help herself up. They don’t drop the hold for a few moments.

As the 5 of you make your way back to the TARDIS of the younger Doctor, you walk in silence. “I’m glad we did this.” You say out loud and receive 4 different smiles, 4 different emotions, two of hope, one of pure love, and one you know well enough to only describe as budding with questions.

The TARDIS even looked younger as the youngest Y/N and Doctor start to clamber inside, his hand resting a top her shoulder to keep her close and upon seeing the gesture, you become aware of your own Doctor being so close to you, his shoulder pressed right against yours.

His touch always had been your comfort, hadn’t it?

The departing Doctor looks back at you and his heart warms seeing you happy. Your happiness was all he ever wanted. “You’re fantastic.” He tells you, much like your Doctor had almost every day during that regeneration. He glances to his Y/N and his smile widens more. “You both are fantastic.” In the TARDIS they finally go and the doors close before the you and your two doctors watch them disappear.

“Time to get you back to your Y/N then?” Your Doctor claps the last Doctor on his shoulder before slinging his arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer to him as you walk to the TARDIS side by side to another.

He hums, kicking his feet out extra far when he walks and as you reach the TARDIS you huff. “Alright Doctor, out with it. What’s wrong?”

“What?” Your Doctor asks in confusion and you pat his chest with the back of your hand.

“Not you. Him.” You turn to the other Doctor. “You’ve had a weird look on your face since before we left the café, so out with it.”

He looks at you with your arms crossed, your ring unintentionally on display once again. “Who is it?” He asks again and you sigh.

“Doctor you know I can’t-“

“No, I know. Spoilers.” He interrupts you, running his hand up and down his neck. “But you know, if you tell me who you married, after I leave here, I won’t remember.” You hesitate, giving him a look of uncertainty. “You know, paradoxes and all that.” He smirks stepping closer to you.

Paradoxes. Right, none of you would remember this. He wouldn’t know and you wouldn’t screw anything up.

“Alright Doctor.” You nod before turning around and grabbing your Doctor’s lapels and pulling his lips to yours. His arms wrap around you to pull you close and you can feel his lips curl with a smile moments before you separate.

His soft green eyes stare into yours before he gently kisses your forehead, keeping his arms wrapped around you. You were so lost in your Doctor, you almost forgot about the other one.

He was staring at the two of you with such an intensity, it was almost hard to pretend he wasn’t there. It took you a moment of studying his features before you see the clenched jaw he wore and you laugh quietly.

“Don’t be jealous, Doctor.” You tell him, well aware of the puppy eyes your Doctor was giving you for losing your attention.

The other Doctor almost scoffs. “I’m not jealous. I’m him!”

“And I’m you.” Your Doctor adds and you smack his chest again.

“And I’m Y/N.” You add needlessly once again before turning in the Doctor’s hold to lean against his chest with his arms still around you. “And your Y/N is still inside that big beautiful blue box waiting for you to be by her side when she wakes and to stay by her side always. She loves you Doctor.” You look behind you to your Doctor for your next words. “She’s always loved you and she always will.” The Doctor presses his lips to your again as you cup his cheek, bringing him closer.

A TARDIS door closed softly right before you and the Doctor separate. He holds you tight, resting his head on your shoulder as the TARDIS slowly disappears before your eyes.

“He really won’t remember that kiss? Or me telling him that we married?” You ask the Doctor as the two of you walk hand in hand to the TARDIS and the Doctor holds the door open for you with a head shake.

“No, he will not. None of them will.”

“But will we?” You weren’t really sure how this all works. The Doctor tries to explain how the paradox cancels out the memories, leaving only the most recent people to retain the memories. “Do you ever wonder how many times we’ve met future us and can’t remember it?”

“Oh, I try not to think about it.” He shrugs before a cheeky grin appears. You know, paradoxes-“

“Paradoxes and all that! Yes, Doctor, I get it.” You smile at him. He returns the smile before beginning to work the TARDIS out of the alley. “You know, before the last you arrived, I thought you were that TARDIS noise I could hear from blocks away. I thought you were leaving without me for a moment.”

He gasps, holding a hand to his chest. “I would never! You’d kill me if I ever did that, not that I would ever.” He reaches a hand out to you and you grab it, hugging it as tight as you could. “I love you too much to ever leave you.” He whispers before kissing the top of your head.

“I love you too, Doctor.” You whisper back before the TARDIS starts, taking you both to your next adventure.

.

.

.

.

[yu-winchester]

See You Now, Saw You Then

Tenth Doctor x Reader x Eleventh Doctor One-Shot

Summary: Time travel is always a bit unpredictable, and you’re never totally sure where you’re gonna end up. Travelling with the Doctor had made you prepare for many scenarios, but never one where his future self would be the one to declare that he adores you, before your own Doctor could.

Weiterlesen

[yu-winchester]

My Past Frozen Behind Glass

Pairing: Thirteenth Doctor x Reader, Thirteenth Doctor x River Song x Reader

Word Count: 8,857

Warnings: Angst, besties there’s SO much angst, mentions of death, mourning, ridiculous amounts of bittersweet pining curtesy of a one (1) Doctor™ 

Summary: The ghosts of the Doctors past haunt her. She had long since convinced herself that she could move on, that she could accept the fleetingness of human mortality. But an encounter with the people she once loved most causes her to reconsider that maybe, just maybe, it doesn’t have to be this way.

A/N: I’ve got one, maybe two more parts planned to pair with this fic, but this is still it’s own standalone. I NEED thank the thirsting for thirteen discord, y’all are wonderful and I love you all, thank you for putting up with me screaming about this fic for days, and I hope you enjoy your well overdue pain. 

It was a quiet day on the TARDIS, innocent enough. The Doctor was working on the TARDIS’ brake system – on their last adventure they had crashed, and the TARDIS had been quite upset. Even now, whilst the Doctor worked on repairing her grumpy ship, the TARDIS innocuously zapped her with lose wires.

The others – the Doctors delightful fam, were also gathered in the console room, as they often did these days. But, for the life of her, the Doctor hadn’t been paying attention to what they were doing. She could hear idle conversation, and if she really concentrated, she could make out some words.

Something to do with “not the first” and “oh, who’s this.”

The connecting wire to the piston assembly wheel sparked, whacking the Doctor on the nose. She flinched back, scrunching up her face as she did so. “Aw come on,” she protested. “That wasn’t necessary!”

She went to grab the wire, but it went off again, the sparks burning her thumb. The Doctor hissed, driving her thumb into her mouth. “If you keep this up,” she pulled her thumb from her mouth and spoke softly, so only the TARDIS could hear her. “I’ll use the Paxus V Lubricant Oil on you, don’t you think I won’t,” she added a glare for extra effect. “Just you wait, we’ll get to oiling your disk plates and the WD-40 will be gone.”

She didn’t think her glare was too effective, but, after a whirr of protest, the wire stopped sparking. The Doctor took that as a win.

Weiterlesen

[yu-winchester]

Youth [ Masterlist ]

Summary - On a family trip to your dad’s home town of Hawkins, Indiana, you make a series of decisions that result in you ending up in the year 1983 with more questions than there are answers presently available. 

Pairing - Steve Harrington x Female Reader (Slow burn)

Content Warnings - Swearing, Violence, Blood, References to anxiety and depression, I’ll add more as we get further into the story. 

A/n - this is a rewrite of my previous fic, Mistakes & Regrets. I was not happy with how the story was going, and wanted to make it so what I wanted made more sense. if you were on the previous taglist, you can add yourself to the new one! 

Chapters:

   season one

   •   I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI

   season two

   •

   season three

   •

AO3 LINK

Taglist: 

   Troop - Scoop Taglist

Playlist:

   And In the End? ( you can suggest songs that you think should be added!)

[yu-winchester]

Stranger Things Re-Write Masterlist

Chapter 1: The Vanishing of Will Byers (fluff, angst)

Chapter 2: The Weirdo on Maple Street (fluff, angst)

Chapter 3: Holly Jolly (fluff, angst, tw: death)

Chapter 4: The Body (fluff, angst, tw: death)

Chapter 5: The Flea and the Acrobat (fluff, angst)

Chapter 6: Empty (fluff, angst)

Chapter 7: MADMAX (fluff, angst)

Chapter 8: Trick or Treat, Freak (fluff, angst, tw: drinking)

Chapter 9: The Pollywog + Will the Wise (fluff, angst)

Chapter 10: Dig Dug (fluff, angst)

Chapter 11: The Spy (fluff, angst)

Chapter 12: The Mind Flayer (angst)

Chapter 13: The Gate (angst, tw: gore)

Chapter 14: Suzie, Do you Copy? (fluff, angst, tw: gore, horror) 

Chapter 15: The Mall Rats and the Case of the Missing Lifeguard (fluff angst, tw: gore, horror, lack of control)

Chapter 16: The Sauna Test (fluff, angst, tw: cheating, descriptions of gore)

Chapter 17: The Flayed (fluff, angst, tw: violence, gore, possession)

Chapter 18: E. Pluribus Unum (angst, tw: possession, violence, gore)

Chapter 19: The Bite + The Battle of Starcourt (angst, fluff, tw: violence, gore, possession)

Chapter 20: The Hellfire Club (angst, fluff, tw: ptsd)

Extras:

it’s Nice to have a Friend (Steve Harrington x Platonic!reader) (fluff)

[yu-winchester]

Steve Harrington Series Masterlist

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Sorry, Not Sorry

Episode One

Episode Two

Episode Three

Episode Four

Episode Five

Episode Six

Episode Seven

Episode Eight

Epilogue

Moodboards

Cool for the Summer

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 5

Episode 6

Episode 7

Episode 8

Episode 9

Episode 10

Epilogue

Part 3

Tag List: @simonsbluee @tragiclilb @crazyunsexycool @maajikcrossing @fatherfigured @graciexmarvel @kiwi5335 @ech0brinly @fixtionlover @frogtits1 @blanchedelioncourt @greekktragedyy @lostinatimeline @yellenabelovaa @katsukiswrld @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @makaylajayde13 @i-bitch-you-bitch @i-mmunity @at-las-posts @milkiane @em-rebekah @hcloangcls @arignipanja574 @phinafucks @boomitsallie1

[yu-winchester]

Stranger Things Have Happened Series Masterlist

Stranger Things Have Happened

Series description: Hawkins, Indiana, November 1983. The Winchesters got out of hunting and decided to settle down in a small town. The youngest of the three, Y/N, just wants to get on with her somewhat normal life and go to a good college. But that’s a little tricky when disappearances start occurring, including her friend Barbara Holland, and there’s reports of a mysterious new girl in town. Can she balance boyfriends, teen drama and monster hunting?

Prologue

Chapter One: A Normal Sunday

Chapter Two: Where, Oh Where, Is Will?

Chapter Three: Lost To The Party

Chapter Four: Search Party

Chapter Five: Pancakes With a Side of Disaster

Chapter Six: The Battle of Troy

Chapter Seven: The Funeral

Chapter Eight: The Hunt Is Afoot

Chapter Nine: Quiet In The Library

Chapter Ten: The Truth Is Out There

Chapter Eleven: Over And Out

Chapter Twelve: Scatter and Run

Chapter Thirteen: The Battle at Byers

Chapter Fourteen: In Too Deep

Chapter Fifteen: Lost along the way

Epilogue

[yu-winchester]

Super Strange Things Masterlist

Updated: August 24, 2020

Chapters are currently under on-going construction.

Pairing: Johnathan Byers x Reader

Summary: Y/N Winchester, middle child of John and Mary Winchester, arrives in Hawking’s with her family to investigate a series of disappearances and hearsay of a strange, faceless monster, along with a girl who can supposedly move things with her mind.

Chapter One: Super Strange Things

Chapter Two: Not Exactly the Scooby Gang 

Chapter Three: I Don’t Give A Damn ‘Bout My Bad Reputation

Chapter Four: Is This Real Life or Is This Just Fantasy 

Chapter Five: The Body in the Quarry

Chapter Six: The Monster in the Wall

Chapter Seven: Dream Weaver

Chapter Eight: Conspiracy Theories

[yu-winchester]

THE MULTIVERSE OF YOU

Multi Part Series Masterlist // Want More Marvel?

Stephen Strange x Fem!Apprentice!Reader

!!MULTIVERSE OF MADNESS SPOILERS!!

Description: When America couldn’t control her powers, she accidentally ripped (Y/N) from her life on 616– her friends, her work, her ever increasingly distant and cold mentor Stephen Strange— and to quite possibly the wrong place… here. Only able to keep track of her home through comic books and movies, (Y/N) stayed for five years… until America comes back to correct her mistake.

Warnings and Tags: MULTIVERSE OF MADNESS SPOILERS, MOON KNIGHT SPOILERS, NWH storylines, Mentions of Daredevil, Language, Slow Burn, Jealousy, Mentions of Alcohol and Alcoholism, Mentions of Celebrities / MCU Correlations, Like Bit of a 4th Wall Break, Sexual Situations and Their MENTIONS

PART ONE: 25/25

1. Deja Vu // 2. Re-Entry // 3. Echoes // 4. Getting Caught Up

5. Outside Knowledge // 6. Needed // 7. Of Lies, Envy and Doorknobs

8. Study… Date? // 9. You Tell Me // 10. Twilight at Kamar-Taj

11. Show // 12. Double Jeopardy // 13. A Strange Morning After

14. Here We Go // 15. Drawing Down The Moon // 16. Unveil // 16.5. The Confession (Mini Chapter) // 17. Letting It Out

18. Dropping In Uninvited // 19. Plus One Full Beard //  20. The Duality of Passion

21. Something’s Gotta Give // 22. Coming To Terms // 23. The Devil You Know 

24. You Gotta Know // 25. Loose Ends…

PART TWO…

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Tag List Under Cut <3

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