Not That Bad

Not That Bad

Pairing: Chuck Shurley x reader

Word Count: 1001

Summary: The reader is dragged along by a friend to a Supernatural convention, where she meets Chuck who turns out to be the writer of the Supernatural books which she had never bothered to read.

A/N: I suck at summaries. Anyway, I hope you like it! ^_^

You really didn’t want to be there. You had spent two hours smiling at your friend as she tugged you along to talk to other people who were cosplaying and chatting animatedly amongst themselves about demons and ghosts and angels and monsters born from lore and mythology.

You were just bored. You had seen so many Deans and Sams and Castiels and Lucifers to last you a lifetime, and you swore that you never would follow your friend to another ‘Supernatural’ convention. In your opinion, everybody there was crazy and obsessed with books that lacked common sense, and while you hadn’t read them, you didn’t really want to. If there was a chance in a hundred for you to read them before coming to the convention, now it was a chance in a million, if that.

You had finally managed to convince your friend to leave you alone; leaning against the wall with a bottle of water clutched in your hand that you liked to pretend was alcohol that could drown your sorrows.

You heaved a sigh just as you saw someone relax against the same wall as you, clutching a bottle of water and drinking nervously.

You turned around and studied him subtly. He was short, with unruly dark hair and the beginnings of a beard on his cheeks. His eyes were blue, the most clear and beautiful blue you had ever seen, and as you faced him completely with a small smile, you remembered thinking that he was not bad at all.

“Do you not want to be here either?” you asked him, chuckling softly.

He took a swig from his bottle of water and nodded. “Y-yeah,” he replied in a tremulous voice. “I would really rather be anywhere than here” he admitted, shoulders slumping. Upon closer inspection, he didn’t just look bored like you, but he looked nervous, almost scared.

You chuckled softly in response. “Tell me about it. I was dragged here by my best friend, who’s a die-hard fan of Supernatural, but I haven’t read the books myself. And to tell you the truth, I’m not sure I want to, either. They’re just not for me,” you said.

The man just chuckled before raising his bottle of water to his lips again and drinking some more.

“I understand,” he said simply.

“I’m Y/n L/n,” you introduced yourself suddenly, after a moment of silence, smiling as you offered him his hand. He shook it.

“Chuck. Chuck Shurley,” he said, himself smiling slightly.

You spent the best part of the next hour just talking with Chuck, getting to know him as he got to know you. It was pleasant, surprisingly so, and it was something you had never thought you’d find at a convention. It was an hour later that he said he had to go, and before leaving he scribbled down his number on a napkin, smiling softly as he did.

“I never expected to find such good company here,” you admitted as you pocketed the napkin with what you could only hope was a flirty smile on your lips.

“Same here. I’m feeling much better now than I was before,” he said, referencing his previous nervousness.

“So... I’ve got to go. But I had a lot of fun,” he said, and when he walked away both of you were smiling goofily.

Five minutes later, your friend came to grab your hand and lead you excitedly to the room where the meet-and-greet with Carver Edlund, the author, would be held.

You filed into the room, your mind overtaken by thoughts of Chuck as you stood up in the back of the room.

Soon, every conversation had died down as all the fans of ‘Supernatural’ present were looking up at the stage expectantly, as if waiting for the Messiah to walk out and deliver a speech. And walk out he did, but he was definitely not who you had been expecting to see.

It was a man, short and nearly shivering with nerves, clutching a bottle of water tightly in his hand. The same man you had been talking to a few minutes ago, Chuck Shurley, was standing on stage answering the questions of the fans.

Immediately, you felt guilty. You had complained a lot about the books to him and how boring you found whatever your friend had told you about them and all this time, unbeknownst to you, he had been the author of the books. You buried your face in your hands and willed yourself to disappear, but you could see his gaze on you whenever you looked up.

As soon as the Q&A was over you bolted from the room without even so much as a glance at your confused friend, but you weren’t lucky enough as you bumped into someone.

In fact, you were very unlucky indeed as that someone was Chuck himself. Or Carver. You didn’t know.

“Hi,” you said lamely as he looked at you apologetically.

“I saw you in there,” he said as if he hadn’t been expecting you to be in the room.

“Look, Chuck -or is it Carver?- I thought we had something going on, I mean, not something, obviously, but I think I kinda like you, and after all I said before I know it’s probably naïve of me to stay,” you said, trying to make up an excuse and leave.

“It’s Chuck,” he said softly, grabbing one of your wildly gesturing hands and holding it gently between both of his.

“I like you too,” Chuck said in all seriousness, “And I didn’t take what you said about my books at heart. You haven’t read them to have an actual opinion of your own,” he said as he leaned down closer to you. He was obviously nervous once again, and it was up to you to close the gap between your lips and pull him into a gentle and sweet kiss that only left you wanting more.

It turned out that conventions weren’t that bad after all.

New Doctor Who Companion Reveal Trailer! Pearl Mackie as Bill

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHRIS EVANS!

Well then.

Anywhere you go, let me go too; That’s all I ask of you

Wherever You Are

Pairing: Tenth Doctor x reader

Word Count: 604

Summary: The Doctor is acting unusually shy, and it’s up to the reader to find out why.

Warnings: Fluff

A/N: Happy birthday to David Tennant! <3

The Doctor is a lot of things, but shy is not one of them. He’s brave and intelligent and daring, but under no circumstances is he shy, unless he’s acting. He does that often to get you both out of trouble, but timid is not one of the words one would use to describe him, and they would be absolutely right not to use it.

Thing is, right now, he’s very obviously shy. He’s fiddling with his Sonic Screwdriver and occasionally muttering to himself and avoiding your inquisitive and curious gaze like the plague.

Still, that doesn’t stop you from staring at him.

Well, to be precise, staring at his suit-jacket-covered back as he tinkers around with stuff in the control room of the TARDIS, refusing to let you see his face -which is flushed red by now, and you have no idea why- and not uttering a word or making a sound.

All in all, his behaviour is very un-Doctor-like, and it shows no sign of changing anytime soon unless you do something.

“Doctor,” you call out at some point, and he is so startled by the sound of your voice that he turns around, dropping his Sonic Screwdriver as he does so.

“Y-yes, Y/n?” The Doctor stutters, which also is very weird for him.

You decide to tackle the problem head-on and not sugarcoat things.

“Is everything okay?” you ask him, an expression of concern on your face, the worry probably evident in your voice too.

“Um…” he falters, thinking of what to say next. “Why do you ask that?” he finally decides on answering your question with an inquiry of his own.

Sighing and rolling your eyes, you smile at him. “I’m glad you asked that, actually, because you have given me lots of reasons to think that you are not okay. First off, you’ve been ignoring me for the biggest part of the day without an explanation, and you’ve been acting nervous and… I think you were blushing at some point, too,” you explain, and his nervousness returns full force.

“Well… you’re right. I am a bit off today, but I have a very, very good reason for being like this,” he says, assuming a matter-of-fact tone and straightening up.

“I want to take you out on a date,” he states confidently, only a small hesitation in which he licks his lips betraying his nervousness.

“What do you say? Will it be a yes or a no?” he asks, seeming a bit like an impatiently expectant child.

You are taken aback by his unusual request, but it doesn’t seem bad to you and, well, if he really means it then that would explain why he was acting weirdly before.

“A date? What kind of a date?” you ask, just to clarify, because you can never be one hundred percent sure when it comes to the Doctor and the bizarre things he asks you to do. You, of course, want it to be the kind of date two people who like each other quite a lot go on, but, as you said, one can never be sure with the Doctor.

He blushes again.

“Well… I was thinking the more romantic kind of date, somewhere nice and cosy like, say, the Titanic before it sank or the Earth’s moon, or another planet entirely,” the Doctor suggests, and you can’t say no. You don’t want to, either. You want to say yes, yes, yes.

“Yes,” you finally reply, smiling at him. “Though doesn’t the Titanic sound a bit extreme? We might be tempted to save people if we make friends with them, and that would disturb the time stream, right?” you ask, and he nods, excited at the fact that you have learned the rules of time.

“You’re right. I wasn’t thinking properly. Where do you want to go?” he asks again, apparently very excited at the prospect of the date.

You chuckle and blush, rather excited yourself.

“Um… well, let’s just go wherever you want. The universe is huge, and you know it better than I do,” you say, and he nods.

“Right!” he says, walking up closer to you and pulling you into a hug.

“Of course!” he exclaims then, pulling back from the hug, but pressing his lips to yours in an excited kiss that sends tingles running through your body.

You can only stare at him as he runs around, pulling levers and pushing buttons, and soon the TARDIS is wheezing, signalling its departure.

“Where are we going?” you ask, smiling radiantly at him, glad to be met with the usual bright, a bit crazy, look in his eyes.

“To my favourite place in the entire universe,” he says with a grin.

“Where’s that?” you ask, and he pulls you closer to kiss you once again.

“Wherever you are.”