#doctor who reader insert

[am-i-obsessed---maybe]

Wrong Tardis (Ninth Doctor x M!Reader/ Tenth Doctor x M!Reader)

I'm not a huge fan of Nine but I'm slowly going back and watching his episodes and he's kinda growing on me.

Not sure if he's ooc here (though I'm like 90% sure Rose is) but whatever. I'm super excited for tomorrow's special and really wanted to write more for this series.

If you have any requests for this series send me an ask! (just keep in mind I have my own plans for big episodes like Silence in the Library or End Of Time.

Wordcount: Just over 1k

Series masterpost

The Tardis was old, like really old, like when the Doctor stole it it was already in a museum old. So occasionally it glitched, nothing too big. That is until it glitched and teleported you you to Cardiff 2005.

That was a whole earth year before you even met the Doctor. On the plus side the glimpse of his face you saw before you were teleported told you he would find you and come to pick you up, it was only a matter of time so you walked around.

You had yet to be in Cardiff in 2005, you'd been in to Cardiff circa 1910 but not 2005 so you look around, you saw the sights, you people watched for a bit and then you saw a familiar blue box.

"About time" You told yourself as you walked in.

"Did you fix the timezone processor?" You asked, happy to be back. By your calculation is had been about 3 hours.

"Who're you?" Asked a blonde woman who'd put herself between you and the Tardis console. You blinked.

You may have jumped to conclusions.

Looking around the inhabitants of this Tardis were very much not the inhabitants of yours. You only recognized one face. Captain Jack Harkness (Though he wasn't traveling with you when you'd been teleported away).

"You're Rose Tyler" You said to the woman who stood in front of you and she nodded.

"Yeah, and who are you?" She asked again. By now Jack and the Doctor, or the man you assumed was the Doctor were looking at you wearily.

You looked to the Doctor, his hair was darker and buzzed close to his head, his forehead creased in ways your Doctor's didn't and his ears were definitely larger than you remembered them being. Looking into his eyes calmed you though, because those were definitely the eyes of the man you loved. Though perhaps a few years younger.

This was the Doctor before you'd met him. before he knew you existed, maybe even before he destroyed Gallifrey.

"Well? Aren't you gonna answer her?" Asked Jack all three were looking at you expectantly.

"I'm an anthropologist" You finally said.

"An anthropologist?" Rose asked and you nodded.

Both Jack and Rose looked at you intently, not really buying it.

"Is that your name?" Rose asked wearily.

"No" You answered honestly, "But I can't tell you my name. I'm sorry." You told her and once again looked at the Doctor. He hadn't said anything yet.

"What do you mean you can't tell us your name? Why?" Rose asked.

"Because he's from the future Rose" The Doctor finally said, climbing down from the ladder he was perched on when you burst in.

"Aren't you?" He asked and you nodded.

"You're from my future" He said and you smiled almost sadly.

"Inquisitive as ever Doctor" You told him.

"I should go" You said, slowly turning around.

"Wait, if you're really from the future how come you were so shocked to see us? Don't you know us? Like, the future us?" Rose asked.

"He can't tell you anything Rose, it could put the whole timeline at risk" The Doctor said.

"He's right, I really shouldn't even be here. I thought this was my Doctor's Tardis coming to finally pick me up."

"Finally? How long have you been here?" Jack asked.

"About three hours" You told him.

"Does that mean there's another version of the Doctor wanderin' around Cardiff right now?" Rose asked and you chuckled a bit.

"No, we had a bit of glitch—" "With the timezone processor?" The Doctor asked.

"I can't tell you that" You said but he smiled at you with the cheeky little smile that only this face must have because you'd never seen it before and you sighed, "Yes with the timezone processor".

"What's a timezone processor?" Rose asked.

"It's what keeps all occupants of the Tardis in the same time bubble in flight" Both you and the Doctor said together, the two of you looked at each other.

"It's going to be your fault you know. You don't check the timezone processor enough and at some point it's going to act up. I want you to remember me saying this when I see you again. It's your fault" You told him but your voice held no malice, quite the opposite, it was loving teasing and both Rose and Jack could tell.

"I'm gonna go meet Mickey at the train station" Rose said and she grabbed Jack with her as she left. Leaving you and the Doctor alone but not before looking at the Doctor one last time, smiling and giving him a big old wink.

With just the two of you left the Tardis was quiet except for the soft whirring of the engine as it fueled up.

"How do you know what a timezone processor is?" The Doctor asked.

"I can't tell you" You said.

"When are you from?" He asks.

"I can't tell you that either" You repeat.

"Then can you tell me why you're looking at me like that?" He asks.

You step closer to him and gently cradle his face in your hands.

"I've never this face before" You simply say.

"What are you to me?" He asks.

"One day you'll find out. One day you're going to look at this face and smile and you're going to call me brilliant and when you do you're going to remember this and who knows, maybe I'll see this face again" You told him and kissed his cheek.

The wheezing sound of the Tardis landing could be heard faintly from beyond the wooden doors and you smiled widely.

"See you soon" You said and turned around, walking out to hopefully find your Doctor waiting for you.

Outside the Tardis stood another blue police box with the door open and the Doctor stood outside.

"There you are! We've been looking all over for you!" He said. His face was covered in oil and grease.

"Did you fix the timezone processor?" you asked.

"Eh, eventually" The Doctor said.

"And was it sparking because of a loose wire from when we crashed on Auros?" You asked, admittedly somewhat condescendingly.

"Yes" The Doctor mumbled and you rolled your eyes.

"I told you to check it" You said as you walked inside. The Doctor closed the door behind you.

"Y/N" He said, calling your name and you turned your attention from the Tardis console to him.

"Yes love?" You asked.

"Have I told you that you're brilliant?" He asked and you smiled.

"Not recently, no" You said.

[daydreaming-of-doctor-who]

Hi! I love your writing!! I was wondering if there was any way I could get a headcanons list with Four, Six and Eight and a romantic companion reader 'stealing' their iconic clothes, like Four's scarf or Six and Eight's coats? Thank you!!

A/N: I'm always down for comfy things like this! Who wouldn't want to do this? XD I may have had a little too much fun with this one.

Headcanons of Romantic Companion Reader 'stealing' the Doctor's (4, 6 & 8's) iconic clothing items:

Fourth Doctor:

You can't help yourself. The Doctor has taken off his iconic long scarf and left it right there, all alone. Surely he won't mind if you use it for yourself, only for a little bit?

It's soft, as you wrap it around your neck, practically smelling the Jelly Babies from it. Yep, it smells exactly like him.

It really is comforting, especially just knowing it is his.

There's a certain feeling of power that comes with it too. You can't help but start imitating him, maybe strutting around a bit, not noticing he has been watching you with curiosity and amusement from the door the whole time.

There is a wide grin on his face, and you suddenly feel embarassed.

Four only comes up towards you, patting your head, and then wrapping you up nice and snug in his scarf himself.

"If you wanted to wear it, you could have just asked, Y/N."

I mean, just imagine when you want his attention, you just yank on his scarf and it stops him in his tracks. You can just quite literally pull him towards you and he can't escape.

Sixth Doctor:

The Doctor takes off his coat so he can work on some TARDIS maintenance without getting it dirty or ruined. Your eyes keep glancing at the iconic multicolored piece of fashion.

Then you find yourself slowly taking the coat while he isn't looking, sneaking it on. Wow...it's still warm. It feels as though he's wrapped his arms around you and enveloped you in a hug.

It even smells like him, giving you a strange sense of calm.

However, the coat is definetly too big for you, but it makes it all the better.

You hear the Doctor clear his throat, looking to see him glancing up at you knowingly. You've been caught.

He stands up and you stay still, cheeks red. However, he surprises you by glancing you over.

"It clearly doesn't fit you size wise, but it looks just as fabulous on you, my dear Y/N. I may just have to get one made for you."

"But I like yours."

"Then you can borrow it whenever."

Eighth Doctor:

Oh my. Ever the gentlemen, honestly. You really don't need to 'steal' his coat from him. He'll gladly give it to you whenever you need it, even if you think you don't.

Whether it's rain, or shine, or snow, he just automatically pops it off and covers you in it.

But you like to use it as a security blanket of sorts, especially for anxiety or just bad days.

Eight is always coming in, seeing you cuddled up with it, or sleeping with it, sending a heartfelt grin to his face.

However, there are times when you get bold and brave enough to just say: "I'm taking your coat, now!" as you proceed to pull it off him.

He doesn't mind. If anything, it touches his hearts knowing you want a little piece of him with you.

[scribble-bunnie]

Let You Go | Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Tenth Doctor x Reader (Gender Neutral, I think, I didn't specify anything)

Word Count: 2.1k

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending that's also kinda Open?

Summary: Fragments of the process of falling in love with you; and the moment it all built up to.

A/n: This is my first time writing for this fandom and I'm only watched till the 2nd episode of S4 so please forgive any mistakes! Also, the Doctor might be ooc (my biggest nightmare, writing ooc characters) but I was possessed last night to write this instead of studying so ofc I will share it. The pacing is all over the place and I'm not the proudest but it's something. I hope you enjoy it regardless <3

also available on ao3!

The Doctor doesn't remember how it happened. It had been too quick, or maybe too slow– or maybe it was both at once, leaving him unable to pinpoint when or how he fell in love with you. All he knew was that it had been easy.

There were moments though– moments when he could remember distinctly the unusual rhythm of his hearts that played only around you. Moments when, in the back of his mind, he had no choice but to admit that he was in love.

The one that hurt him the most to this day was the moment born out of his own anger. It had been at the end of a particularly harsh adventure, one that had left his feelings in a jumble, anger hot and quick to lash out the moment you had pushed a little too far, too close to his heart and to his hurt– he had shouted at you, "Don't you dare! You are not special!"

There was silence for a few seconds, enough to get the Doctor to realise what he had said but it was your response that still haunted him to this day.

"I know," you had said gently. He could see the hurt in your eyes, masked with an understanding and soft smile that was reassured. "I know I'm not special. I'm perfectly ordinary. And isn't that wonderful? Someone special like you needs someone ordinary like me by his side– to remind you that it's okay to be ordinary sometimes. It's not a bad thing, Doctor."

You had inched closer and opened your arms to offer him a hug, a way out of the conversation – a silent way to make an apology. He had taken it, not knowing what else he could have done instead to make you realise that you were wrong. Being ordinary was wonderful, but you were special. Special to him in ways he was too terrified to admit even to himself, so much so that he had said the opposite in a fit of anger because he was scared.

He didn't know how you did it, but you somehow knew that his anger was just him being hurt and scared. And you were always generous with your hugs when anyone was afraid– didn't he know that after seeing you hold so many strangers close while on your dangerous adventures? Those same strangers that he had been jealous of had been replaced by him in that situation and suddenly, the moment was not all that he had hoped it would be. It wasn't a delicate and vulnerable moment like he had thought; he had ruined it by hurting you.

Yet you were never one to hold a grudge. You never really mentioned it, except in passing sometimes when you joked about being ordinary and common whenever an alien or person would think you extraordinary. Every single time, the Doctor regretted not letting you know the truth– but that moment had been one where he couldn't have denied the truth even if he was scared.

There were other times, other memories of you that were a lot more warmer to remember. Like the time when you had asked him, a few days after joining him, whether the TARDIS was alive. He had answered you with a simple yes, and you had just nodded then but he could see you take the time to pet the TARDIS and speak to her sometimes when you thought he wasn't around. It was sweet, the way you were connecting to his only constant through all of time and space.

There was a moment on another planet, one in the far past where an alien species had been under attack from another. The Doctor still remembered the sight of you holding the alien child in your arms while you all tried to escape– had heard the comfort you had whispered into the child's ears despite being scared underneath the surface yourself.

When he asked you about it later, you had just given him a radiant smile and said, "The fear is just my natural instinct, Doctor. But the conscious part of me knows that you are there– and it's never scared because it believes in you."

You believed in him.

Sometimes, he wondered why. On the days when all the two of you encountered was death and destruction, the whispers of the danger that follows the Doctor clanging in the back of his head as hollow reminders, he wondered why you would choose to put all your faith in him. Why would you think that he was special, but you were ordinary? How were you able to still offer him comfort after seeing him destroy planets, species, entire civilizations? What did you see in him, an empty shell of a man he once used to be?

"Doctor?"

Your voice was like a steady anchor whenever he felt like he was drowning in his own thoughts. The loud volume of it was always offset with the gentleness in your tone whenever you spoke to him, and somehow, it always managed to make him feel warm. It sounded a lot like ho–

"Doctor, are you okay?" Your voice was concerned now. The Doctor blinked, snapping out of his own thoughts to look at you. You were holding something in your left hand and reaching out to touch him with your right one. "Is there something I can do?"

"No, no!" He cleared his throat, giving you a bright grin that faded a little at the edges when he realised that you were still staring at him impassively. "Sorry, just got a bit lost in my thoughts there."

You hummed, wrapping your arms around the box in your hands now. The Doctor looked at it curiously; wasn't it one of those cookie tins that you said were always full of sewing materials?

"Was it… about her?" You asked quietly, a little unsure and hesitant. It was the only topic you never really brought up– and whenever you did, you always sounded a little scared. Like anything you said would hurt him too much. Or maybe you were scared to pry too far into his feelings. "The planet we went to today… Did you go there with her?"

He had done that before. You had been there with Martha, when he had taken you two to places he had been with Rose. Never again after that, though.

"No, not this one," he shook his head, trying to look you in the eyes. It was usually so easy, you were always looking at him with wide eyes that seemed to admire him. Now though, you were looking away. He tried again. "I wasn't thinking about her."

"Home, then?" You finally looked him in the eyes, a little tension sucked out but not all. Gallifrey was the second topic you were careful to speak around. You had had your fair share of answers demanded out of him like Martha had, but after that, you had let the choice lie with him whether he wanted to talk about it. And, weirdly enough, sometimes he wanted to tell you everything. Wanted to tell you about the place that once used to be his home. Now…

"This is my home now," he replied quietly, hand slipping to cover yours over the cookie tin. You and the TARDIS. Home. "Anyway, what's this?"

If you realised his terrible attempt at switching topics (which you did, as always), you didn't comment on it. Instead, you held up the box and opened it to reveal not the notorious sewing materials but actual cookies.

"I," you blushed, embarrassed for once. It was surprising, considering you had held steadfast through far more humiliating scenes in all your adventures. Why were you blushing over cookies? "I tried baking some cookies. It's not, it's not much, and they're not all that goo– hey! I'm still speaking!"

The Doctor didn't wait after hearing that you made them. He immediately picked one up to try it. He could tell that the baking powder was just a little bit too much and the mix wasn't done properly in some bits but you were looking at him with a shy smile.

"I thought you deserved a little nice something after the mess our last adventure was," you mumbled, picking up one of the cookies yourself to eat.

"It's good," the Doctor felt a little choked– not on the cookie, but there was a lump in his throat. You rolled your eyes, waving your half eaten cookie at him.

"Liar," you called out, smiling through the action. "I promise the next ones will be better. Or maybe I should try a cake next time. Would you like that?"

The Doctor stiffly nodded, trying to blink away the sting in his eyes. As always, you knew something was off.

"Hey," your voice was soft, concerned. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"No," the word came out before he could stop it. Somehow, neither his brain nor his mouth had a filter when it came to you. "I just… wonder."

You waited for him to speak when he paused, trying hard to put the words together. Speaking his emotions was always so difficult.

"I just wonder," he tried again, "what I did to deserve you."

"It's just cookies, silly," you shook your head, inching closer. The Doctor hoped you would step even closer. A hug would be really, really nice right now. "It's nothing compared to all that you've given me. I have seen so much, gone all across time and space because of you– I could ask you right back what I did to deserve you."

"It's not," he was struggling but he had to let you know. You looked a bit confused, pausing in your actions to look up at him. "It's not nothing. All of time and space is nothing compared to all that you have given me. That understanding, that comfort, that warmth– I can't find it anywhere else in that time and space you speak of."

"Doctor…"

"Do you remember that time I said you were not special?" He asked quietly, taking a step closer. It was the first time he had done it; usually, you were the one who had to cross the space between the two of you. You opened your mouth, probably to say that it was all bygones, but he rushed ahead with, "I lied. I have wanted to tell you ever since then, that I am just a coward, and a liar. Saying that you're not special… that was just me trying to tell myself that I can't let you be special to me. Because the moment I let that happen, that's the moment I–"

He broke off, frustrated at how the words just weren't coming out the way they were supposed to. What was he supposed to say anyway? It's not like he could tell you his feelings. There was no way you would take it kindly. Not after knowing about Rose, not when you had only ever looked at him with respect and admiration.

"Doctor," your voice was quiet but you were so close and the hum of the TARDIS had quietened so much that he could hear you clearly. "Don't."

Was it possible for both his hearts to sink? He stared at you, tears welling up in your eyes as you gave him a painful smile.

"Don't do this," you added shakily, your arms coming up to hold yourself. Beside you, the cookie tin lay forgotten on the console. "Don't… give me hope, only to take it away. I have been strong, but I'm not strong enough for this."

"What–?" He didn't understand. You closed your eyes and took a step back, a step away from him. Something inside him fractured.

"I have loved you in silence, Doctor," you said quietly, "and I thought I did it well enough for you not to realise. But I must not have done a good enough job hiding it– you know how it is. I'm not, I'm not asking you to return my feelings. I don't expect or even hope you to. All I ask is that you forget it. Forget you know it and let me go on one more adventure with you. One last, if you can no longer bear to see my face after this. Just one–"

"Why one?" He stepped closer, covering the distance you had backed up. "Why not all of them?"

You seemed to have lost your breath as you stared at him. "Y- You mean it? I can stay? You will forget this happened?"

"No," he shook his head, hands reaching out to touch your elbows. With his eyes, he asked you for permission. You would be mad to deny it, when that's all you've wanted for so long now. "I can't forget it even if I tried to. I told you, you are something that I can't find anywhere else in all of time and space. And if you choose me, then I'm selfish enough to not let you go."

°•❀•°

all likes, reblogs, comments are appreciated ♡

[raz-writes-the-thing]

ok ok ok we’ve had some talk about the master, but have you considered. missy. femdom missy. please i want her so bad

-🍓 (ophelia)

Hey hey, Ophelia-

I- look don't hate me for this- but at this current point in time (first watch through of Capaldi's run) I am not a huge Missy fan

Like, I like her- but she's not my type yknow?

Having said that-

Here's some Missy nsfw hcs just for you, cutie

Missy is definitely a switch. But not a subby switch- a complete brat. But having said that, it's very rare that she's not overly dominant.

Missy? The biggest fan of incorporating sex and food. Whipped cream, chocolate, even bacon. Honestly, nothing is too weird for her.

That goes for everything else, too. Literally nothing is too weird.

She has a thing for using her partners as human furniture.

She also has a thing for being eaten out while she's working. She likes to be serviced.

"Oh, come on, dear- you can do better than that."

Let's put it this way- her partner would need to have a thing for being mildly to moderately humiliated.

She does also like to take photos and videos of you being sexy for her.

This woman is incredible at giving head, but she only does it as a "reward" for being good for her. She also absolutely prefers to receive and will put her hands on your head to keep you exactly where she wants you and your tongue.

Missy enjoys edging you until you cry and will take immense pleasure in pushing you to your limits.

[magiccath]

TARDIS Tricks

Tenth Doctor/Reader (could be any Doctor if you squint)

Summary: In which the TARDIS pulls some matchmaking schemes

The last week had been exhausting. Life with the Doctor usually was, but this week was just a little too much for you. Not just you either, the Doctor was wiped out too.

He pushed the doors of the TARDIS open with a tired sigh, throwing his long brown coat over one of the numerous coral-like branches littered throughout the control room. Then, he made a b-line for his worn-out captain’s chair, slumping into it dramatically. His long, spindly legs stretched out in front of him, making him appear taller than he was - if that was even possible. The way he stretched was more than akin to the characteristics of the cats you had encountered.

You weren’t much more energetic about your entrance, throwing your coat next to his and moving to slump against the circular console.

“Can we please take a break from the running?”

“We haven’t been running that much,” he groaned, though you could tell he was thinking the same thing. He might have ‘superior Time Lord biology’, but he was clearly as tired as you were. Maybe there was a limit to the running he could do.

“Daleks, New New York, then that weird Bio-tech company, followed by the literal end of the universe, and wrap it all up with diamond rain on Saturn.”

“Suppose there has been a lot of running,” the Doctor grumbled again, admitting defeat. “How about a day or two of rest? Get some sleep and relax a bit?”

You nodded, glad he finally understood what you were trying to say. All you wanted was to sleep for at least 8 hours uninterrupted. Ideally, 12 hours.

“Don’t fall asleep in that chair,” you scold, noticing how he already appeared to be half asleep, “you’ll get back pain and then you’ll be insufferable. Go to bed, I know you have one somewhere.”

The Doctor grumbled, not bothering to form a full and coherent sentence. You kicked his leg, not hard enough to truly hurt him, just enough to get him out of the chair. He grumbled again and sat up in the chair, stretching his slender arms above his head.

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

He nodded, already looking slightly more alert. Slightly. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to fall asleep, you decided to head off to your bedroom.

You walked slowly down one of the numerous, winding halls of the TARDIS. You’d walked to your room hundreds, if not thousands, of times by now. You knew exactly where it was, and it wasn’t there. In the space where your door would normally be was… nothing. You tapped around the wall, wondering if perhaps the Doctor replaced your normal door with some kind of seamless door mechanism.

When the wall didn’t yield you let out a frustrated grunt, “What did you do?” you asked the TARDIS, resting your hands on the smooth surface of her walls. The wall was cold to the touch, colder than usual that is. Normally, you felt something when you touched her. The best way you could describe it was a presence. But, at the moment, you felt nothing.

Aggravated, you sulked your way back to the control room.

“Where is my room?” you glared at the Doctor, hands on your hips. Normally, you’d play along. Hide his Sonic Screwdriver or coat somewhere he couldn’t find it. This time, you were far too tired to humor him.

“What d’ya mean?” the Doctor frowned in confusion. “Did you get lost in the hallways again?”

“No, I know where my own room is and it’s not there!”

The Doctor’s frown deepened as he got up from his seat, brushing past you and into the hallway. He took long strides down the corridor, stopping in front of where your room normally was. He slipped his glasses out of his inner pocket, sliding the specs onto the bridge of his nose. His head tilted to the side as his hands ran over the smooth wall, examining the space with his characteristic curiosity.

“Did you do this?”

“What? No, why would I steal your room?” He peered over his shoulder, almost offended that you would suggest such a thing.

“You’ve done weirder things,” you argued, crossing your arms.

“Name one,” the Doctor challenged, mirroring your defensive stance.

“The time you put a pigeon in my shower,” you responded immediately, not needing time to think about weird things the Time Lord had done. It was one of the things you liked best about him, he was constantly strange. It made things fun, but it could also make things incredibly aggravating.

“He needed a bath. Have you met pigeons? They’re filthy.”

“Wash your pigeons in your own shower!”

“That's… that’s not the point here,” he mumbled, clearly deflecting the conversation. “Your room is missing.”

“I noticed,” you deadpanned, not looking away from him. “Can I have it back?”

“I told you, I didn’t take it.” The Doctor threw his hands up defensively.

“Rooms don’t just walk away,” you say, glaring at him. By now, your irritation was bordering on anger. All you wanted to do was fall into your soft bed and not leave until this exhaustion wore off, but you needed a bed to do that.

“Maybe the TARDIS sorted it away,” he shrugged. As if accentuating his point, the TARDIS let out a soft hum. You weren’t even sure it was real at first, maybe it was just the air conditioning kicking on.

“Did she just…?”

The Doctor nodded, confirming your theory that the TARDIS had responded to him. What reason did she have for storing your room away? You were about 98% sure that you still lived on the ship.

“Is this her way of kicking me out?” The TARDIS let out another hum, this one in clear disapproval. Not kicking you out, then.

You let out a small sigh of relief. You’d never admit it, but you had never felt more at home anywhere else in your life. Realistically, that wasn’t because of the TARDIS. It was the Doctor, he could make any place feel like home to you.

“Well then, can I have my room back please?” you asked the TARDIS

The corridor was silent. In fact, the whole ship was silent, if that was even possible.

Something you learned early on in your travels with the Doctor was that the TARDIS was the one really in charge. What she says goes. Always. It doesn’t matter if you were promised a beach vacation and ended up in the middle of winter in Victorian England. And it most certainly didn’t matter if you wanted a bedroom or not. She was a force to be reckoned with, and you respected that.

“I’ll sleep on the couch in the library, we can deal with this in the morning.” You decided it was easier to just let the TARDIS work through whatever tantrum or scheme she was cooking up. Sometimes when traveling with the Doctor it was better to just go with the flow - and that didn’t just apply to ship malfunctions or sleeping arrangements.

You trudged down the corridor, heading for the vast library. It really was an impressive library, even better than the one in Beauty and the Beast. Shelves lined the walls and extended up high for multiple stories. It was easy to get lost in the room because it was so large. Most of the time you just asked the TARDIS for directions if you needed a specific book. Mostly, you just used it as a calm and quiet place to take a break between your chaotic adventures with the Doctor.

Usually, there were at least three couches in the room at a time. Your favorite was a mustard yellow, not a particularly nice color (especially for a couch), but it was beyond comfortable. The issue was that the couch wasn’t there. Furthermore, there wasn’t any couch in the large room.

“Doctor!” you call out loudly, staring blankly at the space where there should be a couch. There were small circles on the wood where the legs of the couch would normally sit, leading you to assume that you weren’t going crazy. The TARDIS had stolen your room and now your favorite couch.

“What’s the issue now?” the Doctor grumbled, rubbing his face tiredly as he strode into the library. He came to a standstill next to you, staring at the empty floor with equal confusion.

“She got rid of the couch.”

“I can see that,” the Doctor said, his eyebrows raising in interest.

“I’m exhausted, I'm grumpy, and I just want to sleep,” you whisper urgently, almost on the verge of tears. It felt silly to be upset over such a small thing, but you were beyond tired. Your brain was functioning on sheer willpower and that was quickly running out.

“I know, I know,” the Doctor whispered sympathetically, gently lifting your face up to look at him. “Look, you can sleep in my room. She hasn’t taken that.”

“That's where you sleep,” you point out, trying not to show how flustered the endearing touch had made you.

“Normally, yes,” the Doctor smiled slightly, finding your response slightly comical. “It’s a nice bed, though I’m not sure it would matter much to you either way at this point.”

“Where would you sleep?” You frown, knowing that he needs the sleep just as much as you do, even if he would never admit it.

“I don’t need to-” he started but cut off once he saw your glare. “I can sleep in the console room, that chair isn’t really that bad,” he amended.

“You’ll hurt your back, I already told you not to fall asleep there.”

“It’s not like we have any other options,” the Doctor shrugged. It wasn’t that big of a deal to him. He would do anything for you, sleeping on a chair that hurt his back was nothing in comparison.

“I’m not letting you sleep in the chair,” you insisted, crossing your arms defensively. “I’ll sleep in the chair.”

“No one is sleeping in the chair!” the Doctor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“I could just sleep on the floor, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“No, I’m not letting you do that,” he said seriously.

“What do you propose then?”

“Well… we could…” the Doctor trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. By now, you knew it as one of his many nervous tics. “We could share the bed,” he finally said, his eyes glued to the floor.

“Share your bed?”

The Doctor nodded, still not fully looking at you. At this point, you were too tired to question it, or even really think about it.

“Can we even do that? Are you ok with that?”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t. As you’re comfortable with it,” he said back, his tone only slightly less panicked. He wasn’t even sure when the last time he shared a bed was.

“Alright,” you whisper with a slight blush.

“I’ve never seen your room,” you add after a few seconds.

“You haven’t?”

You shake your head, “it could be a torture dungeon for all I know.”

“It’s- it’s not-” he struggled before realizing you were joking. “It’s a normal bedroom,” he whispered, already walking out of the library.

You smile to yourself and follow him down the hall, the only sound the soft tap of your footsteps. His room wasn’t far from where yours would normally be, just a few turns down the hall and to the left. The door was the same blue as the TARDIS, almost identical to the front doors of the ship.

The Doctor opened the door and slipped inside, leaving it ajar so you could follow.

Whatever you had expected when it came to the Doctor’s room, it wasn’t this. Almost every square inch of the place was covered with things. Gadgets and gizmos, rocks, keys, books, alien-looking things, and-

“Is that Starry Night?” you frown, looking at a framed picture leaning against a corner.

“Oh, yeah, Vincent gave that to me,” the Doctor shrugged like he didn’t have one of the most recognizable paintings in all of history on his bedroom floor.

“Isn’t it supposed to be in the MoMa?”

“That one’s fake. Don't tell anyone though, I’m not really supposed to have this one,” the Doctor shrugged, undoing his tie and slipping it off his neck. You tried to not follow the movement with your eyes, the nimble movement of his hands as he undid the knot capturing your attention.

You looked away embarrassed, turning your attention back to the painting. “Did you steal Starry Night?!”

“No, I told you, Vincent gave it to me,” he frowned at you, wondering if the exhaustion was finally getting to you. He had just told you that.

“And you just… decided to keep it on your bedroom floor? Next to your trash can and first editions of Lord Of The Rings?”

“That’s not a trash can, it’s an artifact from B-739. Priceless, don’t touch it.”

“Right, 'cause that’s the priceless item in here that I’m worried about accidentally defacing.”

“If you’re going to bully my possessions, I’m not gonna let you sleep in here,” he grumbled, a pout barely evident on his face.

“I’ll shut up,” you say, looking around the rest of the room. You kept your comments to yourself, instead taking the time to admire the strange collection of things the Doctor kept in his room. It was like a personal museum of all of time and space. That is if the museum prioritized shiny objects and children’s toys from the early ‘90s.

It was all very him, and you couldn't help but feel safe in the room. Sure, you felt safe everywhere on the TARDIS, but this was different. If you could, you would have spent hours scouring every inch, wanting to learn everything you could about the Doctor.

You tugged your attention the the bed. It wasn’t a small bed, but it also wasn’t ridiculously large for one (albeit, strangely tall) Time Lord. The sheets were dark blue silk with a thick woolen blanket on top, also in a matching blue.

“Do you need PJs?” he asked, poking his head out of the closet he was currently in. The doors were a dark oak with a row of ties hanging on the inside of one. The patterns ranged anywhere from solid colors to cartoon characters from your childhood you had forgotten existed. You smiled as your eyes caught on a brightly colored tie with Winnie the Pooh on it.

“Yeah, that would be nice,” you nod, turning your attention back to him. A few moments later he came back into the main room carrying two sets of PJs. You’d only seen the Doctor out of his trademark suit once or twice, for all you knew he just slept in it. Maybe he invented some kind of sleep suit, like a three-piece made entirely out of comfortable knit fabric.

He handed you one set of PJs, a classic striped set. He held in his hands another set, that one also striped, just in a different colorway. You’d never put much thought into what the Doctor wore to bed, but for some reason, this made sense to you.

“Bathroom’s over there,” he tilted his head in the direction of a door in the corner. You took the clothes and made your way over to the room, closing the door gently behind you, the ‘click’ reverberating through the silent space.

There wasn’t anything spectacular about the bathroom. By most standards, it was a perfectly ordinary bathroom. Even still, it’s clear to you who this bathroom belonged to. Various products (mostly ones for hair styling) were scattered across the countertop, but you didn’t feel like it was a mess.

There was a bright, puffy, flower-shaped rug in front of the sink that reminded you of something you might find in a Barbie Dollhouse circa 2002. In contrast, the shower curtain was a bright striped pattern that reminded you of a beach ball. In any other room, the decorations wouldn’t have matched, but knowing this was the Doctor’s doing made it all make sense to you.

You slipped the pajamas on quickly. You looked a little ridiculous in the Doctor’s clothes, like you were playing dress up in his closet. They didn’t fit you perfectly, but that much was expected. Even still, the fabric smelled like the Doctor, leaving you with the aching feeling that he was hugging you. You pressed your nose against the sleeve, breathing in the familiar smell before realizing you were smelling the Time Lord’s pajamas.

You shook yourself out of it and exited the bathroom, poking your head tentatively into the main room. The Doctor was sitting on the bed, having already changed into his PJs. His head turned at the sound of the door, smiling slightly at the sight of you.

“Do y’a need anything else?” he asked.

You shook your head, standing in the doorway awkwardly. Seeing him sitting there, on the bed, made it all seem real. You couldn’t do this. How could you share a bed with the man you had the biggest crush on ever?

“I- well, I can’t-” you stammered, trying to put your thoughts into words. Your brain was tired and panicking, the combination leaving you unable to fully express anything. “I can just sleep on the floor.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor, just get in the bed.”

You shift anxiously, tugging at the sleeve of the PJs he gave you. There was no way to explain it to him without admitting your feelings. It was a double-edged sword. Or maybe it was paradoxical. It didn’t really matter.

Begrudgingly, you slide under the covers next to him. You lay like a corpse, your hands firmly tucked at your side as you stare up at the ceiling. He had those ridiculous glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. They weren’t even just haphazardly stuck up there, he took the time to form them into actual constellations. The ones that he’d shown you up close.

You felt a twinge in your heart. It took everything in you not to turn to your side and hug him right now. His hugs felt like oxygen to you. You could be having the worst day ever, but a hug from your favorite alien never failed to brighten it.

The Doctor turned the bedside lamp off, sending the room into darkness. Your eyes were still glued to the stars, their soft glow highlighting them against the black of the room. He settled down in the bed next to you. You felt every single shift as he got comfortable, the feeling of him next to you distracting. It was hard not to think about how much you liked the Time Lord when you were literally in his bed. It was impossible not to feel his presence next to you, the weight of another person weighing down your mind.

“You ok?” the Doctor whispered, pulling you out of your spiral.

“Yeah,” you whispered back. Maybe if you said it, it would be true.

You felt his hand slide against yours, his fingers brushing against the back of your hand. You didn’t dare move, you didn’t even pull your gaze from the cluster of glow-in-the-dark stars above your head. Tentatively, he slid his hand into yours.

This wasn’t the first time you had held his hand. Far from it, actually. You held his hand almost every day. It was easy to get lost in space, it was just easier if you held onto each other. But this time was different, the intimacy of it making your heart thunder against your chest.

Neither of you said anything, the silence filling the room. Eventually, your eyes fluttered closed, the fluorescent greenish afterglow of the plastic stars remaining in your mind. It didn’t take long for you to slide out of consciousness, the heavy weight of sleep taking over and dragging you down.

-

You woke up of your own accord, a pleasantry you couldn’t remember the last time you experienced. No droning alarm, blinding rays of early morning sunshine, dogs barking, or anything else of the sort. Just your mind and body, having decided they were thoroughly rested, arising of their own accord - an internal affair rather than an external one.

After the initial fogginess of waking up after hours of deep sleep, you became quickly aware of your surroundings. Not just the Doctor’s bed or even his bedroom, but the Doctor himself. More specifically, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

At some time during the night, the exact timing unbeknownst to either of you, the two of you had found your way into each other’s arms. The action was seamlessly smooth, so much so that it almost felt rehearsed.

Your legs slotted together like expertly crafted puzzle pieces, fitting together in a way that made more sense than it should have. Could legs even fit together? You suppose they must if you were experiencing it. His chin rested on top of your head, his nose occasionally bumping the crown of your head as he shifted and nuzzled in his sleep. Your own head was tucked against his chest, your ear positioned right between his beating hearts.

The steady thumping of the twin organs pumping blood through his system was mesmerizing, the sound strangely familiar and comforting. You could feel the vibrations through your body, the asynchronous beats reverberating around in your head.

Slowly, the panic started to creep in, invading the sense of calm you had felt seconds before. You were in the Doctor’s arms. You woke up in the Doctor’s arms. Even worse, the Doctor was going to wake up and find you in his arms.

As if on cue, the Doctor started to stir awake. Low grumbles left his mouth as he buried his face further into the pillow beneath him. You stiffened, the change in posture immediately noticeable. You cursed yourself for drawing more attention to the situation.

The Doctor looked down at you, his tired brown eyes boring into yours. You blinked slowly, unsure what else to do.

“Good morning,” he whispered groggily, his voice at least an octave deeper than usual. You felt your cheeks heat up, almost certain that a blush was rapidly spreading across your face. He wasn’t moving you away or screaming in horror. If anything, he was holding you tighter now.

“Good morning,” you patored back, unable to form any words of your own. What was there to say? “Sorry, I’m a compulsive sleep cuddler, this totally isn’t because I have a massive crush on you please don’t read into it.”

The Doctor’s thumb rubbed small, concentric circles on the small of your back, his eyes still hung up on your face. You wished he wouldn’t look at you like that, like the most beautiful thing in the whole galaxy, like it was nothing.

As if suddenly realizing what he was doing, the Doctor stopped immediately. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and released his arms from around you, the sudden loss of contact disjointed. You frowned slightly and scooted to the other side of the bed, sitting up in the process.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered hurriedly, his eyes purposefully avoiding you.

“It’s ok, I really don’t mind, I mean honestly it’s probably my fault,” you responded too quickly, your words falling out of you without much thought. “It’s really not that big of a deal,” you lied.

The Doctor finally looked over at you. By now, you were in expert in reading him. The secret was to look in his eyes. It didn’t matter what face he had, his eyes always told you everything you needed to know. You’d never seen them like this, though. An unfamiliar emotion him, a combination of his emotes you were so familiar with creating something you didn’t know. That worried you.

“Yeah,” he whispered, the look gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. He was back to his cheery self in minutes, stretching his body and springing up out of bed. “Let’s get on with it, maybe the TARDIS has found your room. I’d like to go visit The Beatles, what do you think?” he babbled on, striding across his room.

You scrambled out of his bed, almost begrudged to leave the silky warmth of his sheets. You scurried after him, practically running into his back as he came to a sudden stop. An annoyed groan escaped your lips as you peered over him, searching for the cause of the sudden stop.

The Doctor was pulling on his door handle, struggling to get it open.

“Forget how to open a door?”

“I’m over 900, I didn’t forget how to open a door,” he frowned, still tugging on it.

“Let me try,” you pushed him gently out of the way, tugging on the door handle yourself. Sure enough, it refused to budge. You pulled on it again, using both hands this time. Nothing.

Sheepishly, you turn back to the Doctor, ashamed to admit that he was right. “It’s stuck.”

The Doctor crossed his arms and nodded, an ‘I told you so’ look plastered on his face. He swiftly pulls the Sonic Screwdriver out of his pocket, pointing it at the door with his usual flourish. When it does nothing, he presses a few buttons on the device before trying again. After a few minutes of this, he finally gives up and resorts to kicking the door.

“Doctor!” you cry, grabbing his arm and forcibly dragging him away from the door before he can damage it or himself.

“Do you think…” you sigh, feeling guilty for even insinuating such a thing, “that the TARDIS locked us in here?”

“The TARDIS didn’t lock us in my room,” the Doctor says like it’s the most preposterous thing he had ever heard.

In response, the ship lets out a low groan of disagreement. More versed in the language of the ship, the Doctor noticed first. “You locked us in here?!” he hisses at seemingly nothing, but you know who it’s directed at. The TARDIS hums again, this time in a more approving tone.

“Why?” you butt in to ask. You’re met with nothing but silence.

“I don’t think she’s going to answer that,” the Doctor whispers in your general direction. The ship lets out another hum of approval.

You groan loudly, throwing your hands up in defeat. Not knowing what else to do, you slump back down onto the Doctor’s bed. You sit there for a few seconds just staring at the carpet (‘90s arcade patterned, of course) before the mattress dips next to you. You pull your eyes way from the garish carpet to look at the Doctor, his face equally as dejected as yours.

“I suppose there are worse places to be stuck,” you offer, “could be Mars.”

“There’s more to explore on Mars.”

“There aren’t ‘priceless’ artifacts from B-739, a mobile of the solar system that I’m pretty sure is intended for children, a box of Hotwheels cars, and a collection of pirate maps all in the same corner.”

“The mobile was a gift,” the Doctor defended.

“That’s what you got from all of that?” you chuckle. “It’s like the world's most clustered, excentric, space museum in here.”

“I don’t really sleep in here much. I suppose it’s just become a storage room of sorts,” the Doctor says sheepishly, almost embarrassed to be this open with someone. Sharing this much of his life with you felt strangely raw.

“I think it’s perfect,” you smile, the expression lighting up your whole face, “it’s very you. Chaotic, unorganized, other-worldly, and… beautiful,” you whispered, eyes scanning across the room. It didn’t matter how much you looked at it, there always seemed to be something new and fascinating to look at.

The Doctor, on the other hand, was looking at you. He was flabbergasted at how interested you seemed in it all. The tiny twinkle in your eye reminded him of all the stars he had shown you, all of the alien planets and beautiful corners of space. Yet, you weren’t looking at something particularly odd or beautiful, you were looking at his room. His messy, haphazard collection of strange objects and patterns.

Then, you turned that curious gaze in his direction. He felt his hearts speed up, a subtle but noticeable shift within his body. It was a nasty habit, his body getting excited every time you looked at him like that. He was 903, pretty people smiling at him shouldn’t make him react this way. Yet, you did.

-

Neither of you could figure out what the TARDIS wanted from you, so you eventually gave up trying. There was no point in fighting with the ship, both of you knew that was a losing battle.

You read the Doctor’s first edition of The Hobbit in the comfy warmth of his bed. In that time, the Doctor opted to pace back and forth and fiddle with the door relentlessly. Finally, he gave up and joined you on the bed.

“Do you have any ideas of why we’re in here?” he asked, pulling the book from your hands. You let him slip the paperback from your hands, throwing it on the duvet without bothering to mark your place in the book.

“If I did, we wouldn’t be in here,” you pointed out, looking at the discarded book longingly. The Doctor popped his head back into your field of vision, clearly not taking ‘no’ for an answer.

“It has to do with both of us, otherwise she wouldn’t have hidden your room.”

“Maybe she just thinks we need a few days off.”

The Doctor shakes his head, “She wouldn’t lock us in a room for that, she would just refuse to fly anywhere.”

“Maybe she thinks we’re fighting. Are we fighting?”

“Not that I know of,” he shrugs.

“I didn’t think so. Maybe we pissed her off?”

The Doctor shook his head again, “she doesn’t seem mad.” You didn’t need to question any further, you knew that the Doctor could read the TARDIS’ emotions better than his own sometimes.

“If it’s not anger, what is it?”

“Annoyance?” he said. You couldn’t tell if he was guessing or just generally unsure.

“Has she ever done this before?”

“Once she locked me out of the ship when I complained about her never taking me where I wanted to go, but this is different.”

“Have you said anything mean about her lately?” you asked more out of curiosity than animosity, but the Doctor interpreted it as the latter. He could be quite sensitive.

“No! Have you?”

“I have nothing but love and respect for the ship. She has put up with you longer than any of us ever could.” The TARDIS hummed in agreement while the Doctor scowled.

“I don’t know what we did!” he groans, falling back dramatically on the bed.

“Are you hiding something from me? A big secret?” you say as if you aren’t the one hiding feelings for the other.

The TARDIS lets out a quiet hum that lets you know you’re on the right track and you grin, poking the Doctor.

“I’m not hiding anything!” he swats you away, “maybe you’re the one hiding things away.”

You shake your head. For a second the two of you just look at each other. It’s hard not to get lost in his deep brown eyes, they’re endless pools of wisdom that can only come from centuries of living. Beneath the wary tiredness and stoic armor you can see who he really is, a lost wanderer looking for a place to call home. It was foolish, but you secretly wished you could be that home.

“You have really nice eyes,” the Doctor whispered.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” you whisper back.

“You were also thinking about how nice your eyes are?” he frowns in confusion.

You laugh, a smile taking over your face at his blatant obliviousness. “No, I was thinking your eyes are nice. I like them.”

“Oh… thank you?”

You nod, momentarily getting lost in his eyes again. Your mind was a mess, a kaleidoscope of him, the TARDIS, and your feelings for the former. You wanted so desperately to tell him how you felt, as you often did. Albeit, now was not the opportune moment. If he reacted poorly, you’d still be stuck in the room with him for an unknown amount of time.

And then it hit you. The TARDIS wanted you to admit something. She knew you had a secret, she maybe even knew what the secret was.

“Doctor?” you whisper shakily, surprised to find your voice uncertain and wavy.

“Mhm?” He pulled his attention to you.

“I just wanted to say that I love you.”

The room was silent for a moment. Neither of you moved or said a word, the normally quiet sounds of breathing and movement heightened by the lack of words between you.

“You too,” he finally said, his voice quiet. You knew admitting feelings was hard for him, especially when it came to things like love, so you couldn’t really blame him for the lackluster response.

You nodded, “I mean as more than a friend.”

“I know.”

Now it was your turn to sit in silence, your brain whirling as it tried to process his words. Was it hopeful to assume that he felt the same? That was what he had said, no?

“I’m very fond of you,” he added, sensing your confusion on the matter. “As more than a friend.”

You studied his eyes again. That unfamiliar look was back. For a minute you entertained the thought that it might be a look of admiration, love even.

The Doctor moved his hand into yours, his thumb brushing across the back of your hand. It was a normal action from him, but it still sent your stomach into a frenzy.

“It’s quite an inconvenience, honestly. Makes it hard to get anything properly done when you’re around.”

You chuckle, a small smile forming on your lips.

“You’re my favorite distraction,” he said earnestly. In his own way, it was his way of saying you were the most fascinating, beautiful, unique, and magnificent thing he had ever seen. He’d rather have a day with you than centuries with anyone or anything else.

He leaned closer to you, his face hovering inches away from yours. He waited, giving you time and space to move away or protest. When you didn’t, he slowly closed the gap.

His lips connected with yours, the kiss short and light, but it conveyed the years of affection and yearning. He pulled away, both of you smiling like love sick idiots.

Satisfied, the TARDIS opened the door with a click, the sound echoing around the room.

[denaliwrites]

Don't Blink

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader

Summary: Going home was meant to be a vacation from all the aliens and monsters.

Part 2: Don't Turn Your Back Part 3: Don't Look Away Part 4: Dreams See Us Through

Requests: Open!

Tag List: @nyxiethesimp

Warnings: Weeping Angels, babes.

You hadn't slept in days.

It started innocuous enough -- some nerves as you crawled into your bed, for once. You'd assumed it was because you were so used to the TARDIS that home didn't feel as much like home anymore. You thought that maybe, after a day or two, it'd get better.

It got worse.

Waking up the next morning, you were confronted with the feeling of being watched. No matter where you went -- your mum's, the shops, the cellar, even the restroom. Everywhere. All day. By the time you dropped into your bed that night, you were exhausted from being on high alert the whole day.

You didn't sleep well that night.

Nightmares plagued you -- they were nebulous, slipping just out of focus every time you thought you could make out even just a single detail. But despite that -- or maybe because of it -- you were terrified.

You awoke drenched in a cold sweat, covered in goosebumps and with a stomach churning with unease. You felt feverish, but when you took your temperature the thermometer flashed with a perfectly normal number.

Going about your day felt like a monumental task. While your limbs felt weighed down with lead, the rest of you felt light, jittery... panicky. Any attempts to focus for more than thirty seconds at a time failed miserably.

Maybe it was just your heightened state, but you could've sworn that everyone could see that you were starting to lose it.

That was the first night you didn't sleep.

The second night, you finally caught sight of the predator in the underbrush -- the thing that had been stalking you since you arrived back home. Only for a brief, blink-and-you-miss-it moment, but it was still long enough for you to know that it was the cause of your sleepless nights and worsening mental state.

You weren't sure how a perfectly ordinary angel statue could cause so much distress.

The third night, you noticed the statue had moved -- just a couple inches -- but it was enough for you to see the difference. Finally, you called the Doctor. Not five minutes later, you heard the TARDIS materialize outside.

You turned away for all of one second, but when you looked back, the angel had gone.

Well, "gone" was relative. It was out of line of sight, you could say that much for sure. But you knew it was still lurking nearby -- you could still feel it watching you.

The Doctor didn't bother announcing himself as he barged into your flat -- the TARDIS brakes were announcement enough. The sonic screwdriver was held aloft, its light moving in erratic circles in the darkened flat as the Doctor gradually made his way to you.

"Where is it?" he asked once he finally reached you. "Did you blink -- did it move!?"

You weren't sure how to answer. He had told you not to take your eyes off it, you recalled that now that he was here, yelling at you about it -- but you didn't even remember looking away just moments ago you were so exhausted.

In the back of your mind some little part of the normal you knew that the Doctor was just worried, but that little piece was dwindling with every moment you continued to lose sleep.

You'd moved right past delirium at this point -- and, hell, you weren't even sure how much of this was real. What if you were hallucinating? Angel statues that could only move if they weren't being looked at? That was a little crazy, even for the Doctor.

He turned to look at you when you remained silent, and when his eyes met yours they melted into pure, unadulterated concern and some dam inside you broke.

Sobs wracked your body and you collapsed. The only reason you didn't hit the ground was the Doctor surging forward, arms wrapping around you and holding you steady.

"Oh, dear," he cooed, holding you close. You buried your head into his chest, your cries still rocking through you, though the Doctor's arms kept you pretty snugly in place, and his clothes did an excellent job of muffling your blubbering.

You could feel one of his hands running comfortingly through your hair, while the other rubbed soothing circles into your back.

Miraculously, you calmed. For the first time in days, you felt like you could relax. Breathe. Hell, maybe even sleep.

It was with that thought that you felt yourself being effortlessly lifted. The Doctor carried you, bridal style, back to the TARDIS, through the doors and the console room and the halls, until he reached your bedroom and settled you carefully onto the bed.

"What about the angel?"

"You're completely safe in the TARDIS. I promise."

You knew that he knew that you had meant something different, but you were too tired to argue. Now that you were safe, sleep was coming to claim you rather quickly.

Once you fell asleep, you were haunted by nightmares again, but you were just so glad to be getting any sleep at all that you didn't care.

You found the Doctor in the console room the next morning, looking over something on one of the monitors. Without even so much as sparing you a glance, he dived right into it.

"That's no ordinary Weeping Angel."

"What do you mean?" you asked with a yawn and a bleary blink in his direction.

"See, normally a Weeping Angel wouldn't waste any time -- you blink, you're dead. Well. Teleported to another time so that they can feed off the energy that the displacement causes. But this... this is..."

"It's torturing me."

It wasn't a question -- how could it have been? You and the Doctor both could see what it was doing to you.

"Yes," he confirmed sadly.

"Reminds me of something," you said with a shrug.

"Oh?"

"Oh, do I get to be the brainiac for once?" you teased with a smirk, leaning back against the console beside him.

"I guess we'll find out," he teased back, mirroring your expression and bumping your shoulder lightly with his own.

You blushed, suddenly self-conscious, but you forged ahead anyway. "So, usually when a predator becomes a maneater it's because it's sick or injured and almost always starving, and humans are really easy prey compared to deer and antelope and stuff."

He was watching you with such rapt, adoring attention. You could barely stand it.

"But," you continued, "sometimes there are outliers. Predators that kill humans for unknown reasons, reasons that don't align with what we know about typical maneaters. The maneaters of Tsavo -- they were these two perfectly healthy, normal lions by all appearances, that killed anywhere from -- realistically speaking -- twenty-eight to thirty-two people, but reportedly they killed over a hundred. And no one really knows why they did it. There are theories, of course, but because they were healthy, and it happened over a century ago, there's no way to really confirm one way or another why they killed all those people."

You paused, thinking.

"Well, no way for the average person."

The Doctor beamed at you. "Oh, you are clever, aren't you?"

"I try."

"So you think maybe this Angel is an outlier?"

"Yeah, it's possible."

"No indicators of illness or injury, no signs of weakness or starvation. Just..."

"Sadistic tendencies?"

"But why?" he asked no one in particular, leaning back to stare at the monitor again.

"And..." you started thoughtfully. The Doctor turned to look at you again. "Why me?"

"Why you?" he repeated cluelessly.

"I wasn't here when it arrived, and it couldn't have known I was gonna be coming back anytime soon. It's possible it's been waiting for days, weeks for me to come back -- and it could've been waiting even longer if I hadn't decided I needed a break. That's a lot of waiting for a random person you don't know is coming back."

Realization dawned on the Doctor's face. "It's targeted."

"But why?"

"Why indeed?" he asked in that tone that was meant to sound casual but only served to let you know that he was deeply worried. "Let's find out, shall we?"

[run-clever-boy]

Hey! Could I request some Twelve smut? Maybe when he was blind/relying on touch a lot? Thanks in advance love you bye!

I have been wanting to write something like this for SOOOO long!! Thank you sm!!!! I’m so sorry that this took me forever to write, hope you are satisfied!!

also on AO3

Inch by Inch - 12th Doctor x Reader

Blind! 12th doctor x Fem!Companion!Reader

Words: 3,247

Summary: The doctor is having a tough time dealing with the complications of being blind. A companion of his and a very understanding reader is willing to help him navigate, but will he let her?

Warnings: Smut!! Minors DNI!!!, Oral Sex (Fem Receiving), Unprotected sex (0/10 do not recommend), Nipple play, dirty talk if you squint

You walked out of your room on the TARDIS as you heard some clambering downstairs. You assumed the doctor got into something he shouldn’t have and wanted to make sure he wasn’t hurt.

“Doctor! Wait a minute stay where you are! I’m coming!” You yell down stairs as you come running down.

You abandon trying to put on your t-shirt, considering he can’t see you anyway. You start picking up the pace in your bra and sleep shorts. You tried not to think about the fact that you would be so exposed in front of the man you’ve admired (More romantically than you care to admit) for years. It was the middle of the night after all, but you knew the doctor never slept.

You run into the console room to see the doctor surrounded by bits and pieces of some alien technology you didn’t recognize. What was most important was that he was lying on the ground, and you needed to help him.

You rush over and grab him by the arm to pull him up and onto one of the chairs surrounding the console. “Doctor? Doctor are you alright??” You say worriedly, checking over his figure to make sure he isn’t injured. “What were you doing up?”

“I’m fine, Y/n, I promise” He says, stopping your frantic hands with his own, smoothing over your skin with his own. “Even with the glasses, the depth perception just isn’t on point” He says, his hand moving further up your arm.

“I am getting a med kit, there is no way you haven’t hurt yourself by now” You say, trying to get him steady. Once he looks steady you quickly turn on your heels and hear an exasperated sigh behind you as you leave to get the kit.

You return just as quickly as you left, walking quickly to ensure he doesn’t do anything stupid. You see him exactly where you left him. You can see him lean back against the console, clearly exhausted.

“You there y/n?” He questions

“Any time you need me, I will be” you quip back. You take out the neosporin and bandaids you loaded up a med kit with and help him fix up the scrapes on his hands. He scratched those up most often when he would try to catch himself as he ran into items around the TARDIS, despite the amount of clutter you cleaned up for him.

You help him up onto a chair that sat near the console, grabbing onto his arm firmly for support. He settles in the chair and takes his glasses off, running his hands over his eyes. You can see just how exhausted he is. You know that time lords don’t need hardly any sleep, but you assume the blindness has been taking its toll on him.

“Are you alright now doctor?” You ask timidly.

“I’m fine, you don’t need to fuss over me. In fact, I truly hate it when people fuss over me. You worry too much-”

“I worry with reason, doctor.” You interrupt.

He stops for a second, and exhales. “But you shouldn’t have to” he says quietly. His voice is shaky and there was a different inflection behind that than you expected. He can’t look you in the eye, but you know it’s not just his sight that’s bothering him.

“Doctor, what’s wrong?”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about me, Y/n. I’m supposed to take care of you, that’s how this works” He replies somberly. He can’t look you in the eye but he somehow finds you hand and holds it in both of his own.

“Doctor you do so much, I can take care of you too”

He brings your hand up to his lips gently. He stands up and brings you up to stand with him. He runs his hand along the seat to find his glasses and puts them back on, hitting a button on the side that presumably helps him navigate.

“I appreciate your help more than you know, Y/n. I have been a burden and I know that, please don't protest that. It's not easy having to take care of a stubborn blind man."

You chuckle a little. There was no doubt that he was stubborn. Even more so now that he was blind.

"Follow me" He says, squeezing your hand and turning to go down the stairs and into the halls of the TARDIS.

"I feel like that should be the other way around, Stevie Wonder"

"Shut up"

You can hear his smile in his voice as he says it. He very carefully weaves in and out of the halls of the TARDIS.

"Where are we going?"

"Surprise" His Scottish accent putting emphasis on the word.

"Well aren't we 'doctor mysterio' today” You quip back quietly. He turns his head and gives you the ‘shut up’ look. (Well almost, the angle was a bit off but you can’t blame him)

He arrives at a dark blue door, with some gold circular Galifreyan details. You recognize the language after spending so many years traveling with the doctor. You’ve seen him write in it once or twice, and you always found it mesmerizing. He’s tracing the pattern on the door with his free hand and you can’t help but stare. He turns the door knob and opens the room then walks in with you still in tow. You are just now able to see the room and look around properly. It’s a bedroom with a large bed in the middle which looks like it hasn’t been touched. It’s perfectly made with TARDIS blue sheets. You turn to see bookshelves filled to the brim with books, records, CDs, and pictures lining every wall. More Gallifreyan detailing is on the ceiling and sparkles like stars in the night. The room takes your breath away. Then everything click in your brain as you turn to face the doctor.

“Is this… your room, doctor?” You ask tentatively.

“It is” He replies. “It’s hardly ever used, other than storage lately. Considering the whole ‘Time lords don’t sleep’ ordeal” He smiles.

“It’s amazing” You say in awe.

“I thought you might like it”

He unclasped his hand from yours and ran it up your arm. You couldn’t help but shudder at the action, but your attempt to hide the shaky breath you let out was futile. He ran his hand down your side in an attempt to be able to guide you around by having his hand on your lower back only to discover that your side was exposed. You chose this particular moment to curse yourself for not putting on your t-shirt before running down stairs.

His movements froze when he felt your skin beneath his fingertips. You can feel you cheeks heat up and it quickly spreads throughout your body as your embarrassment floods through you.

“I- s-sorry” you mutter quietly, looking at the floor and shifting uncomfortably. You are all of a sudden way too aware that his hand still hasn’t left your side.

“What for?” He says quietly.

“Not wearing more, I guess” You stutter through and start nervously laughing.

There is a silence between you for a minute when he suddenly moves his hand against you waist. He finds a good grip against your side and gently pulls you in front of him so he’s facing you.

“That’s no reason to be sorry, Y/n” He says quietly, his face close to yours. “The only regret I have is not being able to see you right now”

You freeze in shock for a few moments. You feel your breath caught in your throat. All you can focus on is how the doctor’s hand is trailing up your side and across your chest. His hand finally stops when it finds the side of your face and his thumb glides over your bottom lip. You stay there frozen, finally letting out the breath you were holding. He could hear the shaky-ness in your voice and smiled at you. He was nervous too, you could tell (As much as he tried to hide it)

Just then you felt him tug you closer and you feel his lips touch yours. You could feel the hesitation in his movements so you pressed back against him. You could feel him instantly relax and get more bold with you. You move your hands up the smooth fabric of his suit jacket and wrap your arms around his neck. The one hand on your waist pulled you to him and you could feel the fabric he was wearing against your skin. You gasp and part your lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He felt like he was every where, just overloading your senses. You ran your hands through his hair, needing him closer. You two move backward until your back hits the bookshelves behind you. You wince slightly at the contact not expecting it. He breaks the kiss for a moment, taking a second to breath.

“Are you alright?” He asks, evidently out of breath.

“Yes, god yes” You say, equally out of breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this” it comes out as more of a confession than you meant it to be.

“I wish I could see your face, see your reactions to my touch” He says, bending down so the sound of his voice is in your ear. “But feeling you is incredibly worth it”

He kisses behind your ear and down your neck. He stops at your pulse points and sucks a hickey onto your neck and you use all of your self control to not let out the moans threatening to break free. Whimpers keep escaping as his lips work your neck and his hands are tracing your figure and exploring every inch of your body. Savoring every touch. He is running his hands and lips all over you as if to create a mental map of your body and memorize how you react. Certain touches leave you breathless, arching your back, goosebumps along your skin, and heartbeat skyrocketing.

“So responsive, love” He groans into your skin, hiding his cocky smirk behind explorative kisses.

He pulls you closer in an attempt to move to a different location, not that you minded. He guides you in the general direction of his bed, but stumbles as you both hit the edge of it. He uses the opportunity to wrap his broad hands around your waist, stroking your sides up and down from your ribs to your hips. He kisses you feverishly while he clumsily gets himself onto the bed and on top of you as you guide him. You run your hands up the fabric of his suit and gently guide the jacket off of his shoulders. He takes the hint and slips his arm out of it, tossing it carelessly to the side of the room, having no clue where it landed. You reach to unbutton his waistcoat and shirt while he pulls you closer to him by your hips. He helps you with the many buttons on his clothes in between his explorations of your body. You get everything off of his body and run your hands over the pale skin there. You can feel the roughness of him underneath your fingertips as you trace his body. He runs his hands wherever he can reach on you. From your neck, down your body, worshiping your hips and waist, and further down the run his hands over your legs. All he could want right now is to take all the time in the world to commit your every curve to memory.

His hands come underneath you and fumble around, searching for and then unclasping your bra and throwing it to the side. His lips leave yours for a moment and you almost whine at the absence.

“Show me where you want me”

His Scottish brogue is even deeper than normal. His breath is uneven and his attraction is evident within it. You know what he means now, he wants you to guide him.

You tangle your hands in his silver hair and gently pull his lips to your pulse point. He attacks the spot, licking and sucking hard. He moves just under your jaw and hits the amazing spot on your neck and a moan comes flying out of your mouth before you can stop it. He smirks into your skin as you mutter incoherent apologies. Ignoring your words, he puts more work into that spot, nibbling at the sensitive skin there which has you biting your lip in a failed attempt at concealing your whines. Your hips grind on nothing, begging for some sort of attention and the doctor presses his knee between your thighs to give you just that.

He glides his hands over your shorts and slips a finger into your waistband and slides the smooth material down your legs. You skillfully undo his trousers and he kicks them off.

You run your hands down his soft stomach and go to reach under the waistband of his boxers when his hand comes down and catches yours.

“You’ve done enough taking care of me as of late. Let me take care of you”

With that he resumes his kisses to your skin but then ventures them down your body. He roughly kisses the sensitive spots on your collar bone and then kisses the valley between your breasts. He searches for and then palms your tit, then kisses around until he finds you nipple on your other, taking it into his mouth. He licks over the hard bud lightly then puts a sudden but not unwelcome amount of pressure on it with his teeth. His other hand uses his fingers to roll your nipple between his fingers and pinches it allowing the very little pain to morph into complete pleasure. He switches his hand and mouth to give attention to both and you can barely think. Your breaths have run completely ragged and you can’t even bother to try and die down your moans. The whines escaping your lips go straight to the doctor’s cock and you can only imagine how hard he is for you. The inability to see you is only heightening every other sense he has and you are overwhelming them all.

He lowers his attention to your stomach, his hands running down the grope at the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. He can hear you, touch you, hell even smell you. All he wants to do now is taste you.

He runs his fingers over the cotton fabric of your underwear and you raise your hips involuntarily to meet his touch. He chuckles lightly at your enthusiasm and you curse him for his cockiness in your mind. He decides he’s wasted enough time so he slides your panties off and runs a finger through your folds. He groans when he feels just how wet he made you. He can’t wait any longer.

All of a sudden you can feel him everywhere. Licking stripes up and down all over you. Sucking your clit in his mouth. Sliding fingers around your entrance. It’s incredible and so much to take in at once. He has you bucking your hips into his hands and whining for him. He slides 1 finger into you. It’s just enough for you to squeeze onto. He continues his ministrations while curling that one finger to reach a spot inside of you that you had never felt before. Your eyes rolled back into you head and your back arched. You were so breathless even your moans had turned almost silent. He pressed his weight into your hips to stop their frantic movement as he added another finger which prodded at the most intimate areas he could possibly find. You didn’t even have time to think about the embarrassment that came with coming so quickly as you let out a desperate moan and your vision went blank. All you could feel was the white-hot sensation of the pleasure flooding through your every nerve. You could hear the praise and groans coming from the man you so desperately loved distantly as your consciousness came back to you. You didn’t realize that you were gripping his silver curls tightly as you came on his fingers. What you did see when you look down, however, was the Doctor licking his fingers clean with one hand and stroking his impossibly hard erection with the other.

This time you pulled him up and kissed his lips, desperate to taste yourself on him. He kissed you sloppily, his tongue sliding over yours and you biting his lip as he pulled back. You slid your hand into his boxers and grabbed his erection, pumping him slowly. His head fell onto your shoulder as he muttered a Gallifreyan curse.

“Fuck, Y/n. If you do that any more I won’t get through the night.”

You slid his shorts off his body and then wrapped your legs around his hips. You hooked your ankles into his back and pulled him closer. He hit your sopping wet entrance and a small whine escaped his lips. You reached between your bodies and lined him up with your entrance and pushed your hips forward.

“Take me like it’s the last time you’ll ever get the chance”

That was all he needed to kiss you fiercely on the lips and push into you, inch by agonizing inch. He bottomed out and waited for you to adjust to him. He felt like heaven, stretching you out just enough to where is felt like you were filled to the brim. You moaned at the thought and he took that as affirmation to start his thrusts. He hit the perfect spots in you and stroked every inch of you perfectly. It wasn’t long before the both of you were on the edge of complete bliss. His hips snapped with the fervor of a man much younger than him and his touch set a blaze on your skin. You had never felt someone pour so much into being intimate and it ignited a fire deep within you. He reached down and (with no vision might I add) expertly massaged your clit until you were writhing and screaming his name. The feel of you clenching around him had him gasping and stuttering out his orgasm quickly after yours, riding out your high to prolong this incredible moment. His hands still ran up and down wherever they could reach, but this time he hardly needed any guidance what-so-ever.

“If that’s what you can do without your vision, god knows what you could with” You joke, the words coming out breathlessly.

He pulls himself out of you and lays down at your side. “I don’t think I’ll need it”

“Why not?” You question curiously.

“Because…” He pauses to turn towards you and run his fingers down your torso. “As much as I would love seeing you under me, I can already tell that I’ve committed your every move, noise, reaction, and curve of your body to memory.” Sliding toward your ear as he says it. “I know you said to do this like it was the last chance I’ll get, but you greatly overestimate my self control if you think I can resist this for long”

You smile and lay your head down on his chest which is still heaving.

You couldn’t wait for him to explore your body once again, inch by inch.

[stardust-and-snickerdoodles]

Let Me Save You

fandom: Doctor Who

pairing: 11th Doctor x Reader

summary: Your favorite hobby is collecting alien medical supplies. At least, the Doctor thinks it's a hobby.

Or, you try to make your chronic illness go away without consulting the Doctor first. Can be read platonic or romantic.

tags/warnings: chronic pain, chronic illness, medical experimentation, self-medication, experimental drug use, emotional hurt/comfort

word count: 4384

a/n: an 11 fic in the year of our lord 2024? more likely than you'd think

i hope this is comforting for someone. i had a dream about this and now here we are.

reader's illness is never specified (it's mentioned that you experience pain of some sort, but not where or how or anything like that) so this can be generalized. also no gender identifiers that i can see (but ialso wrote this really fast so please correct me if im wrong!)

It’s been a week since your last market trip, and you still haven’t sorted the supplies. You know you’re slacking, but it’s been more difficult lately. To get up, to put on a smile for him, when your whole body is falling apart. Of course, he doesn’t know that. He can never know.

But he can keep you company while you sort the supplies. Hold you accountable. Even if he doesn’t know what for.

The Doctor, as usual, is tinkering away at the interface. Occasionally, a spark flies out at him, but he seems unbothered. You approach the console room from a nearby hallway, your satchel slung over your shoulder. You glance around, looking for him, before taking a seat on the floor.

The Doctor had heard your footsteps, and now he lifts his goggles to observe you. He watches as you set the satchel down. “Everything alright?”

You spare him a quick glance and a nod. “Fine. Just… looking for company. You can go back to work; I’ll just watch, if that’s okay.”

The Doctor pauses, disturbed by the slight downturn of your smile, but lets it go for now. “As long as you don’t distract me.”

You hum to yourself in quiet agreement. “I’ll try my best.”

As the Doctor turns back away to continue his tinkering, you dump the contents of your satchel on the floor - spoils of your previous trip to the Martian Markets. Your eyes scan over the bottles and tubes and capsules; all sorts of alien medical supplies. There were pain medications, instant bandages, antiseptic infused with nano-bots. This is your hobby - at least, that’s all the Doctor thinks it is - collecting medical supplies from the planets you visit.

You sit quietly, your brow furrowed in concentration, as you sort the supplies into piles. The Doctor hears the slight commotion and looks over his shoulder, a curious look on his face. He sets down his screwdriver and rests his elbows on the console. “You’ve never told me why you collect all these.”

You hum, eyes still fixed on the piles. “Might come in handy someday.” You manage a small smile, although it doesn’t quite reach the rest of your expression.

The Doctor tilts his head, a frown forming on his face. He doesn’t want to push; you would tell him the reason when you felt comfortable enough to do so. But he couldn’t help his curiosity. “You worry too much. Always thinking about the what-ifs.”

You snort and pick up a bottle of Martian healing salve, turning it over in your hands. “I worry too much? Okay.”

His mouth gapes open for a moment, taken aback by your sarcastic tone. Immediately, he jumps to defend himself, pointing his screwdriver at you. “Hey, I-”

“Do you think we could visit another market soon? I’d like to see if I can find anything else.” You cut him off, hardly noticing that you’re even doing it. You glance up at him, finally noticing the faux-wounded look on his face.

The Doctor closes his mouth, reaching for his bowtie in a self-soothing gesture. You’re being… weird. But he doesn’t mention it. “A… another market, yeah. Shouldn’t be a problem. Somewhere with lots of alien medical supplies, I assume?”

You smile again, the dull look in your eyes a stark contrast to the expression. “Yeah, preferably.”

The Time Lord’s unease grows as he sees the falsehood in your countenance. He goes silent for a moment, watching as you go back to picking through the supplies. Finally, he decides to speak. “I know there’s something wrong. You can tell me, you know.”

You, too, go silent. Your movements still. Finally, you reply quietly, “I know.” You begin to pack the things back into your satchel, finished with sorting and cataloging them.

“Then why won’t you tell me?” He slowly approaches from the console, kneeling down so he’s at eye level.

“It’s… complicated, Doctor.” You avoid his searching gaze and ignore the way your heart races.

The Doctor scoffs, settling down cross-legged in front of you. “I’m a Time Lord. I think I’m more than well-versed in all things complicated.” He reaches out a hand to gently touch your knee and his voice grows soft. “Try me.” When you don’t respond, the Doctor frowns. He can feel his own frustration bubbling up, the sort that comes when his companions keep secrets from him. But he tries to keep his voice level, not wanting to scare you off. “I can tell when you’re lying. I can see it with you just as I can see it with anyone else.”

You finally place the last item back in the satchel. Your eyes lift slowly to meet his gaze. “It’s not a lie if I haven’t even told you anything,” you whisper.

The Doctor’s expression softens as he looks into your eyes. There’s something broken there, and it scares him. “Fine. You haven’t lied. But you still haven’t told me the truth.”

You look down at where his hand rests on your knee. Slowly, you reach for his wrist, circling your fingers around it. The Doctor’s confusion only grows, his body tensing slightly at the unexpected touch. But he doesn’t pull back. You slide your hand to the underside of his wrist, two fingers pressed against his pulse point. Your gaze is fixed on the point where you touch, the warmth of his skin, the soft thrum of his hearts. “It’s odd, you know.” The words come out as a soft murmur. “Two hearts, but only one pulse.”

The Doctor swallows hard, feeling a strange sense of dread. His hearts pound in his chest, thrumming against your fingers on his wrist. He speaks quietly, “Not entirely. Gallifreyan biology isn’t the same as humans. Our cardiovascular system works differently. That’s all.”

You quickly withdraw your fingers, almost as if his touch has burned you. Your expression grows a bit harder - not unkind, just closed off. You swing your satchel back over your shoulder and stand. “The market soon, yeah?”

The Doctor’s eyes widen as you suddenly pull away. A pang of hurt, confusion, and fear shoots through him. The words stick in his throat. “Yeah. The market soon.”

You give one quick nod. “Just come get me whenever you’re ready to go. Or have the TARDIS tell me. Whichever.” You turn on your heel, heading back down the hall to your room.

Helplessness washes over the Doctor as he watches you leave. He wants to reach out, to call you back and demand you tell him what’s going on. But he has seen enough of his companions shutting him out, and he has no desire to make it happen again. With a heavy, dejected sigh, he stands, returning to the console to seek out a market you haven’t visited yet. He hopes perhaps this will cheer you up, or at the very least, give him a chance to try and talk to you again.

About 30 minutes later, the TARDIS lands on the unfamiliar planet with her usual jolt, letting out a groan to signify their arrival. The Doctor calls down the hallways in the direction of your room. “Oi! We’ve landed, come on!”

You come out with a smile on your lips, the previous interaction seemingly forgotten. There is still an emptiness in your eyes, but it’s clear you’re trying to offset it. You clutch your now-empty satchel at your side eagerly. “What are we waiting for then?”

Your vigor should put the Doctor at ease, but it only serves to strengthen his resolve to find out what is bothering you. He tries to swallow down his nerves, giving you a broad, excited grin as he opens the TARDIS doors for you.

As you both step outside, the brightness nearly blinds you. You have to blink to clear the sudden spots in your vision. The Doctor rattles on enthusiastically beside you. “The interplanetary markets of the Rumalian system. They have 3 suns, which makes for some interesting orbital patterns. We’re actually standing on the remnants of the 4th planet in the system, which imploded after a nasty leak of toxic goo.” He rubs his hands together, eyes taking in the various tents and canopies which line the streets of the market. “But nothing to worry about now; the implosion managed to burn up all of the toxicity and now it’s a wonderful place for the markets! All sorts of folk around here, Grumians, Braleths, Wertikens…”

Finally, your vision clears and you can observe the sight in front of you. The ground is a mottled green color, with bits of rock and dust around. The street winds and twists, branching off into different sections. There must be thousands of market stalls, stretching out as far as your eye can see. Alien species of all shapes and sizes wander past, browsing the tables and exchanging wares. You hold your satchel a little tighter, tamping down the anxiety that rises in your chest at the noise and commotion. “Right. Where are the medical supplies then?”

The Doctor breaks off from his tangent about the stall that makes the best plum creams to look at you. He points down the path. “Three rows down that way.”

You look where he’s pointing and nod firmly. “Good. I’ll meet you back here, yeah?”

The bowtie around the Doctor’s neck seems to grow tighter as he looks at you - it’s like all the air has been sucked from his lungs. The look in your eyes is something fierce and determined. It scares him. Still, he manages a small smile and a nod. “Or I’ll find you. I’ll get some plum creams for us.” As you begin to walk down the path without another word, he calls out to you. “Make sure you read the labels!”

Aliens brush up against your shoulders as you make your way to the row the Doctor indicated. Your eyes grow wide as you arrive at the end. Nearly every table and stall is lined with bottles and jars and tubes. For about the thousandth time since you began traveling with the Doctor, you send a prayer of thanks to the TARDIS translation matrix. This would be impossible without it.

You spend the next two hours stopping at every stall on the row. You speak to vendors about their wares, picking up a few items at nearly every table. By the time you reach the end, your satchel is heavy and nearly bursting with neatly wrapped packages. As you finish up, placing a roll of Gradorian tendon tape into your satchel, you hear the familiar sound of the Doctor’s voice. He’s at the end of the next row, conversing with an alien that has the head of a walrus and the body of a horse.

You approach the pair, struggling to zip your satchel as you go. The Doctor notices you and gives you a smile, walking away from the walrus-horse thing. “Looks like you’ve done well.”

You smile back at him, and this time the darkness in your eyes seems a bit lighter. “Yes, I think so.”

The change in your demeanor only causes the Doctor’s confusion to grow. But he keeps his face neutral, nodding at your stuffed satchel. “Might need a bigger bag soon. The Lorentians make a wonderful dimensional bag, like a TARDIS! Bigger on the inside and all that. In fact, there might already be one here.”

He’s already begun to walk away in search of a Lorentian bag stand. You manage to catch the end of his sleeve, bringing him to a sudden halt. “Maybe next time. Let’s get back, yeah? I wanna go through all this.”

The Doctor raises an eyebrow at you but nods. He falls into step beside you, watching how you clutch the satchel at your side protectively. You make your way back down the row to where the TARDIS is parked. As you walk, the Doctor hands you one of the infamous plum creams he’d mentioned. You chew on it, savoring the flavor as you walk.

Once you’ve arrived back to the TARDIS and taken off, you turn to the Doctor. There’s a strange look in your eyes, the same look you always get after a trip to a market for more medical supplies - something eager, something… desperate. You pat the full satchel. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

“Right… I’ll leave you to it, then.” He watches as you head down the hallway. The lump in his throat seems to choke him. He’s missing something, and it’s driving him wild.

In your room, you mirror your movements from earlier, dumping the satchel’s contents onto the floor. You sit cross-legged and begin to sort the supplies - pills in front of you, injections to the left, and any goops, solutions, or salves to the right. By the time you’re done, the floor around you is covered in neat rows of bottles, tubes, and syringes.

You stretch out your legs and roll up your pants to above your knees. A roll of medical tape sits beside you, and you grab it to begin carefully taping a grid on your knees. You make sure to have enough squares for each of the substances intended for topical usage. Before long, you’ve neatly taped off each joint.

Out in the control room, the Doctor is pacing. He rounds the center console over and over, his frustration mounting with each revolution. He’s racking his brain, trying to find what he’s missed, but nothing comes to mind. He runs his hand through his hair before leaning back on the console. He speaks quietly to himself and to the TARDIS. “What do you think? Surely there’s something wrong… it’s been like this for weeks and it’s only getting worse.” The TARDIS lets out a low hum, the lights glowing brighter for a second. The Doctor takes this as a sign of agreement. With a determined huff, he strides out into the hallway. He’s going to get answers, whether you like it or not.

The Doctor has to focus hard in order to unclench his jaw, tight with anxiety. He tries to tamp down the fear that rises up in him - it feels like walking to his doom. As he approaches your room, he straightens his bowtie, then raps firmly on your door while calling your name. “It’s me. Open the door.”

You startle in the room, accidentally dropping the bottle of pills you’d been holding. They scatter across the ground, rolling all over the place and causing a loud clatter. “Bit busy!” you call out, desperately trying to clean up the mess you’ve made.

The Doctor frowns as he hears the commotion, the knot in his stomach growing tighter. “I need to talk to you. Open up or… or I’m coming in.” Normally he would never threaten such things, but the anxiety coursing through him was enough to drive him mad - well, more mad than usual.

You swore under your breath, staring at the incriminating scene around you - your gridded knees, covered in colored goops, the rows of pill bottles in front of you, the syringes waiting neatly beside them. “No! I’m… I’m changing!” The lie came out thin as you searched for something to clean the substances off your skin.

“Oh come on, I’m a thousand-year-old alien. I think I can handle the sight of you in a state of undress.”

You huff indignantly, staring at the door with narrowed eyes. You can make out the shadow of his form under the door. You’re silent for a moment, scared and a bit angry. Then, finally-

“No.”

The Doctor clenches his jaw at your simple response. He can hear the hesitation, the defiance, and knows that you’re certainly getting yourself into trouble. “Right. You’ve left me no choice. I’m coming in.” Before you can protest, the Doctor pulls out his sonic and points it at the door handle. It unlocks with a gentle click and he pushes it open all the way.

It takes a moment for the scene before his eyes to register. He scans the substances laid out in front of you, the pills scattered across the floor. One rolls across the ground to stop next to his foot. He sees the cacophony of colored gels on your knees, the odd grid pattern you’ve placed them in. The waiting syringes, the bottles of pills…

“What are you doing?” His voice comes out small, almost trembling.

Your mouth gapes open, an odd sort of croaking sound coming out of it as the words stick in your throat. You have nothing to say, no explanation that will make this any better.

The Doctor leans down to pick up the pill that stopped by his shoe. He examines it carefully, scans it with the sonic, and reads the results. His brow furrows and fear rises up in his chest. He whispers your name. “Talk to me; what is all of this? Why… why do you have all of these?”

Finally, the shock wears off and you look down at your hands in shame. You slowly move to take the tape off of your knees, then grab a towel to wipe them down. As you do, the Doctor watches in silence. You can’t look at him - you can’t look at his face when you’re sure he’s absolutely infuriated with you. “It’s nothing.” The words sound weak even to you.

“Don’t say that!” The Doctor’s voice is louder than you’ve ever heard it before, and you startle, looking up at him with wide eyes. He softens as he sees the fear on your face, slowly lowering himself to the ground. He holds his hands out to you like one might do to a wounded animal. “Please. Please be honest with me. Just… tell me what’s going on. I only want to help.”

Tears prickle at the corner of your eyes and you hate your body for betraying you. You wipe them away angrily, then pick up the towel to continue scrubbing at your knees. You can’t speak, even if you wanted to. Anything you want to say will just come out as a shitty excuse, or a lie. And you can’t lie to him. You manage a deep breath and meet his eyes. To your surprise, there’s no anger, no frustration - just fear. “I can’t tell you… I just need you to know.”

The Doctor dips his head to hold your gaze. He speaks softly, “How can I know if you don’t tell me?”

You shake your head, averting your eyes once more. “You’re the Doctor. Make an educated guess.”

The Doctor’s hearts feel like they’re about to burst out of his chest. He’s so scared and worried for you; he doesn’t even know what to do with himself. His mind is in overdrive, going a million miles per hour as he tries to work this out. Why do you have all these pills? Why were you using alien medicine on yourself? Don’t you know how dangerous this is?

The answer hits him all at once and it takes everything in him not to scream his frustration for not figuring it out sooner. The exhaustion, the medicine, the desperation…

“You’re sick.”

It’s not a question.

It’s a breath, an exhale, a momentary nightmare that the Doctor wishes he could wake up from. He hopes you laugh, hopes you tell him this is all a big joke or something. He wants you to deny it, to say it’s not true. But the look in your eyes says the exact opposite.

A sob rips itself from your lips as you clap a hand over your mouth, trying to hold in the emotions that threaten to escape.

The Doctor feels like he’s been punched in the gut. The air seems thin and tenuous, each breath a struggle. “How long?”

You sniff and discard the towel you’d been using, wiping away tears once more. Each word wobbles as your resolve fades. He knows now; there’s no use holding back. “Since the beginning? It’s… I was born with it.”

With every word, the Doctor’s grip on himself grows weaker. The lump in his throat almost chokes him; his hearts squeeze in a vice. “And you’ve… you’ve kept it a secret this whole time. From me.”

The brokenness in his voice nearly makes you crumble. Shame and guilt race up your spine and blush burns on your cheeks. Another sob spills from your mouth. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

Immediately the Doctor regrets his words. This is about you, not him. He can manage his own feelings later. Right now you need him. He shuffles closer to you, almost close enough to touch. “No, no, shh. It’s not your fault. It’s alright, hush now.” He carefully wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side. You immediately turn your head into his chest, crying with your face buried in his shirt. He rocks you gently, murmuring reassurances in your ear. “I have you now; you’re alright.”

It takes a few minutes, but eventually your tears slow. The Doctor continues to sway you side to side, the motion soothing both of you. When he thinks you’ve calmed, he slowly starts to pull away. You grip his shirt with both fists, letting out a whine. He moves to hold your hands, already trying to reassure you. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere. Can you just look at me?”

You release your vice grip on him although you stay close. You manage to tilt your head to meet his eyes while still keeping in contact, his hands covering yours.

He smiles softly, sadly, at you. “There you are.” His voice is kind, almost paternal.

You sniffle, shame still coursing through you. But the gentleness in his eyes makes you feel a bit more at ease. This is the Doctor. He won’t hurt you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought…”

The Doctor waits for you to continue, hating to hear you apologize but wanting to know what you’re thinking. He nods, indicating he’s listening.

“I thought if I… found a cure, then I wouldn’t ever have to tell you. That I could keep going, keep traveling with you, and you would never know because… it wouldn’t matter anymore.”

The twin hearts in the Doctor’s chest seem to stutter. The thought of you carrying this burden alone, of keeping this a secret to protect him… “How could you think… I care about you. Of course this matters. You matter. You’re my… you’re my friend.”

“When I… when I was diagnosed, I lost people. People I thought were my friends, too. They promised to be there, promised to stay. But they only helped when it was convenient for them. Once they realized that my condition stops me from living like they do, they moved on.” Your voice was small and scared.

The Doctor raises a hand to cup your cheek gently, ducking to look into your eyes. “Hey. I’m not people. And I would never leave you. Not for this.” His hearts ache at the fear and pain in your eyes. He wants to hold you tight to his chest and never let you go. Instead, he keeps his voice steady as he speaks. “You are more than just what you go through. You’re brilliant, and kind, and caring. I could never think less of you for something like this.”

A soft sob spills from your lips. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you… that I didn’t tell you.”

He shakes his head, bringing his other hand up now to hold your face. His touch is gentle, like you’re something fragile that might break if he lets go. “Please, don’t apologize. I understand, I really do. Just… promise me you’ll never keep something like this from me again. Please.”

Your eyes search his, looking for any sign of deception, or anger, or hurt. But you find none - just affection and a concern as deep as the universe. “Promise.”

He gently rubs his thumb across your cheek, your faces only inches apart. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours for a moment. Now you can feel his fear, feel the anguish that you’ve put him through. You wince as the feelings grow stronger. He pulls away and murmurs, “Sorry. Time Lord telepathy.”

“It’s alright,” you reply, feeling off-kilter, unable to sort his feelings from your own. “What… what do I do now?”

The Doctor opens his eyes once more. “We work together to find a cure. For whatever it is you have. You stop keeping secrets, and you stop this reckless attempt at a solution. You stop the self-medicating, the experimenting, the searching-”

Already you’re shaking your head. “No, I… I can’t stop. I’ve been trying for so long. I can’t just… give up.”

“It’s not giving up.” The Doctor clenched his jaw, trying to keep his voice level even as his frustration grew. “This is dangerous. Do you have any idea what these things could do to a human?” He releases one hand from your face to grab a nearby pill bottle. His eyes scan the label before he holds it up in front of your face. “These could kill you.”

You swallow hard, averting your eyes. “It’s all I have.”

“No.” The Doctor’s voice is firm, almost scolding. “Absolutely not. This is not all you have. You have me and I want to help. But I won’t let you destroy yourself.”

You shrink away from him, a little scared by the tone of his voice. You’ve seen the Doctor angry; of course you have. But never at you.

He notices, sees you retreating into yourself, and regrets his words immediately. He whispers your name like it’s something sacred. “I say it because I care. I’m not angry, I’m… I’m afraid. I don’t… I can’t lose you.” He grips your hands once more, holding them like he’s afraid you’ll disappear right then and there. “Please, let me help. Let me save you.”

You don’t have to think about your answer. You’ve kept your secrets close to your chest, and that was a mistake. Now here he is, always the savior. The Doctor. Your Doctor. How could you ever say no to him?

[allophonicmess]

Time and Time again - Part 2

14th Doctor x reader / mentioned 15th x reader

Masterlist

Full version cross-posted on Ao3

The Doctor is struggling after the Bi-regeneration. It only seems logical for you to move on with the next version of him. So why do you stay?

Established relationship

Timelord!wife reader

Mostly jealous 14th! Doctor and angst but balanced out with fluff.

The 25 of December 2023, Christmas day

 "Okay, but I have to ask. Why two wedding bands?" Rose leaned over to you, eyes moving between your wedding rings and your face. On your left ring finger was a thin, twisted band adorned with a clear gem. On the right a wider band decorated in fine Gallifreyan symbols.

"It's an old tradition." You chuckled. "Two rings-"

"For two hearts?" She finished for you, smiling softly at the idea of the intricate gesture.

"Yep, exactly." You laughed softly, squeezing her hand under the table. The Doctor sat opposite you, next to Donna and Shaun. The table was set beautifully with Christmas decorations, lights and candles. The new Doctor had been right about the roast, complementing the Noble-Temple household for their magnificent cooking.

"Aww, that's so sweet!" Rose marvelled, gasping at Doctor. He blushed softly, suddenly very interested in the bits of carrots on his plate. 

"One for each heart? I thought that whole ring to the heart idea is an American thing?" Shaun wondered, looking between you two and the others at the table.

"Well, actually-"The Doctor started, setting his cutlery in an attempt to create a rhetorical pause. You chuckled at his antics. You loved his storytelling. His expressiveness and capturing performance. You leaned back a little, watching the family around you, focusing on him with curious expressions. 

"Many human cultural practices are adopted from alien contact." He casually crossed his arms, basking in the attention like a cat in warm sunlight. "Weddings themselves. Imported from the Bisianth. Inquisitive creatures, birdlike, like um-"

He went on with his tale, pretending to think about the proper expression. 

"Like ostriches." You offered, leaning your elbow on the table to cover your grin. He loved it even more when you joined in. A team effort at wowing the company.

"Yes! Ostriches! Thank you, love." He laughed.

Rose smirked at you suggestively. She had grown close to you and your partner over the last few weeks. She loved each and every story about your adventures, fascinated by what is out there. She felt connected to you in a way that only the Doctor was. She was so much wiser and grown than her age allowed for. 

"And what about them? You were explaining about the rings," Sylvia interjected. She was quick to notice the Doctor drifting off from his original story.  

"Hm? Oh well, they bond for life. Ostriches, I mean. And Bisianth-"

He was lost in thought for a moment. Eyebrows furrowed, and gaze focused on the light of one of the candles. He remained silent for another moment. The humans at the table became slightly concerned at his sudden stop and change in demeanour. 

He blinked a few times, shaking his head slightly. He seemed to have lost the plot, so you stepped in.

"They bond for life as do timelords. But our culture does so at a deeper level since death is a more, let's say, abstract concept." You explained simply, sipping from your glass and gently smiling at the others.

"And on that note, we'll ask you to excuse us. Someone here is still woozy from their Bi-regeneration and needs to sleep." You explained, finishing your drink and smiling at Donna. 

"I thought timelords don't sleep…" Donna explained, looking at you and the Doctor quizzingly. 

"I don't need sleep" The Doctor replied with a scoff. "Just a little bit for regeneration sickness, but I'm fine, so-"

He stopped talking when he saw your and Donna's doubtful expressions. 

Rose spoke up after a moment of awkward silence, "Looks like that's something you can work on." she joked, getting up to help the others gather the plates and cutlery. You gave a soft laugh, sharing a knowing look until she rounded the corner to the kitchen. You also got up, pushing your chair to the table and walking around to meet the Doctor. 

"As I said, Dinner was fantastic. Thank you so much, Donna, all of you." You called a little louder to make sure that all of them heard. 

They had taken you in without any questions. You instantly became family and integrated with them as if it had been like this from the beginning. You were happy to have helped them when UNIT came in to fix the Noble-Temple's house after what happened with the Meep. The house had to be cleared and empty for repairs, so the whole family moved in with you. They spend 2 weeks living with you in the Tardis. It was a delight, the fascination they felt, and it finally gave you a chance to organize and relocate the rooms. In the end, you finally had a functioning kitchen, a proper bedroom for you and enough set guestrooms for a full-on family trip. The Doctor also enjoyed the new proper setup, even though he tried not to show it.

"Of course, darling. "Donna smiled, watching happily as you sneaked an arm around the Doctor's waist. His reaction was instantaneous, leaning into you and placing his arm around you, smoothing his thumb over your arm. You were good for him. Always have been. But your relatively stationary position on earth only allowed for a few visits and meetings between you and the Doctor. You had travelled with him every once and again but mainly took care of earth, protecting it when he was gone. 

"Now get this one to bed. He's losing focus again, and I'm not going to let him sleep on the couch again. Not after all that complaining last time." She replied, pretending to sound strict and fed up. The Doctor had tried to sit through a binge-watching session with Rose, trying to build that proper Uncle-Niece relationship early on. But even a timelord has no chance against the hyperfocus and messed up sleep schedule of a 15-year-old. So he spent the night sleeping on the couch in an almost impossible position and proceeded to complain about his back for the next week. 

"Eh, I'm fine. And I didn't complain." He scoffed, "But I won't fight with this one here." He pecked a kiss on your head, pulling you into his side. 

"So, have a good night!" He called into the house, smiling softly at the "thank-you!"' s  and "you-too!"' s  that came from the kitchen and hallway.

He took in the moment, that easy joy he felt. He was surprised at how happy these small things made him. Dinner with the family, a game of cards, gardening, or simply watching the others with a cuppa in hand. It felt good, a joy that didn't need a grand entrance or having to save a civilization. Just life.

He took your hand and gently led you out towards the terrace, the garden, and into the blue box you called home. He opened the door for you, letting you inside while smiling at you with soft admiration. You thanked him, listening to his soft-soled steps as he followed you inside. You threw your jacket over one of the railings and approached the upper level. 

But you paused at the door when you noticed he didn't follow.

"Are you coming?" You leaned onto the upper railing, watching him flip a few switches at the controls and studying one of the screens intensely. It took him a moment to answer, looking up at you. "Yeah, I'll be there in a second. Get settled already." 

His focus shifted back towards the controls. He even took out his glasses, all attention on the screen.

You smiled at him and made your way towards the bedroom. You changed into your nightwear, brushed your teeth and settled under the soft duvet. With closed eyes, you focused on the steady hum of the Tardis. It was like breathing, a soft whining that sounded like home to you. 

Soft rustling and a gentle tug on the duvet made you open your eyes again. The Doctor slipped under the covers next to you. He laid on his back and immediately lifted his arm to let you rest your head on his chest. He let out a long sigh, lowering his arm as your head came down over his right heart and gently running his fingers over your back and arm. You closed your eyes, letting out a sigh of your own and relaxing as the sound of his heartbeats drew you in. You hummed softly, just enjoying the moment and running your hand over the cotton of his shirt. Your hand consistently over his other heart. 

"Why did you stay?" He whispered, almost as if too afraid to ask you out loud. Ever since that kiss with the new version, he had been thinking about it. It only seemed logical for you to keep going and settling in with the new Doctor. Especially since that one seemed to do so much better than he did.

You slowly lifted your head and turned to look at him properly. The lines on his face seemed more prominent in the soft orange light of the Tardis night setting. 

"Why wouldn't I stay?" you ask, your hand gently smoothed through his hair. You felt him relax under you. Melt into your touch like candle wax. 

He remained silent, eyes closed and quietly enjoying your touch. Then he breathed in deeply, licking his lower lip before focusing on your eyes with a stern look.

"He is better than me. In so many ways." He gently shook his head. "A younger body, the charisma, that smile. Oh, that damned grin. How dare he-"He gritted his teeth, his eyes moving away from you to focus on some random spot in the room. Anywhere, really, he regretted starting the conversation. He knew it was silly, but he needed to know. 

"And he seems to be so much better. Lighter…” 

"Healed." You interjected. Holding his chin to bring his attention back to you. You knew that you two would have this talk. You always had these types of discussions after he met other versions of himself. Especially the younger ones. Being with 12 had been a real challenge in that sense. 

"He is healed. Because he stopped running." You smooth over the lines on his forehead. Caused by so much thinking and worrying. 

"He stopped and faced his past. And that hurts, but it's the only way to keep going." You kissed his eyebrow that dared to lower in confusion to your statement.

"He stopped and reflected, spending his time with life's little joys. And over time, it helped him to become better. To lose that baggage." You saw the tears starting to well up in his eyes. He tried to look away again, but you kept your eyes on him.

"It's okay, Doctor. Let it out. You don't have to keep your emotions shut away." You encouraged him softly, feeling your own tears welling. It felt like a relief to feel his tears soak into your shirt. It was a first step.

He sat up slightly, pulling into a tight embrace and burying his face in your neck. You just held him, both of you letting your tears flow. 

After a moment, you laugh softly, "See, this is what made you become him." Turning your head to kiss his cheek.

He sniffed softly, "Yeah?" "Yeah. And I'll be here for it. Every step of the way." You gently pushed him back onto the bed, resting on his chest again, both hands placed on his cheeks. 

"And when this run ends, I'll be there for the next chapter." You kissed him slowly, feeling his desperation as he kissed you back. His lips moved softly against yours, and he moved his hands to hold your face like you had his. 

"Hopefully, with this face, but who knows. Maybe I'll have a new face by then, and you'll have to be clever to find me in the crowd. No, wait-" You stopped to think about the exact workings of time in your situation. "You'll know the new face 'cause you were here before. Oh, I wanted to have you work for it. At least once." You sighed dramatically before going for another kiss. 

He chuckled softly. "What are you on about?" the Doctor said, shaking his head softly. "We split. It's me and him from the point of Bi-Regeneration and onwards."

You stared at him momentarily, dumbfounded that he hadn't figured it out. You laughed, sitting up and looking at him with mischief.

"Is that how you think Bi-Regeneration works?" You giggled, watching his confused face. 

"Well... Yeah! What else should be happening? It's two time-strands opening. I've got this once, and he's off doing new version things!" His hasty and offended answers made you laugh even harder. 

"See, that is why I was at the academy and learned the proper stuff while you just went  and stole a Tardis." You calmed down, still giggling but moving back towards him. 

"This here is a time loop, silly." You peck a kiss on his nose. "You remain in this form till you regenerate, and then it's back to the rooftop, love." You grinned, watching gleefully as his 'Oh, now I understand' – expression took over his face. 

He blinked, thinking for a moment, and you watched him quietly, a knowing smile on your lips.

"That's where he took off to. That's why he was in a hurry to leave!" He grinned triumphantly. He pulled you into a deep kiss, holding you close as he celebrated his achievement. You pushed yourself off him slowly," Now you have got to remember the date, Kensington Park, the 12 of June 2023. Italian Gardens." 

"And bring some Ice cream?"

You held his cheek, gently smoothing over his skin.

 "You know it, darling."

Thanks for reading! Feel free to send requests or promts if you would like to see more stories like this one :)

[noforkingclue]

Hey, could I request angst with a happy ending for Dhawan!Master with the dialogue of "Do I really mean nothing to you?" "That's not fair. You know that's not the reason why."; The Master hasn't really been honest about his feelings and it leads to the reader feeling as if she means nothing to him?

Note: requests are currently closed

Of course anon! I love a bit of angst (with a fluffy ending)

Hope you like it!

Title: Miscommunication

You stormed back into the Master’s TARDIS, letting the doors swing shut behind you. You were vaguely aware of the Master catching the doors before they closed but you were too angry to stop. You made your way to your room and grabbed your suitcase.

“What are you doing?”

Finally he spoke. The Master hadn’t spoken to you on the whole way back. You rolled your eyes as you started shoving your clothes into the case.

“Don’t you think I deserve an answer?”

“Why?” you snapped, turning to face him, "you didn’t give me.”

“I did.”

“Oh yes,” you let out a bitter laugh, “eventually.”

The Master pursed his lips and you rolled your eyes. Typical. You thought that you could change him but clearly you couldn’t. Really, you were naive to think otherwise. His hatred of the Doctor ran too deep for someone like you to change. After all, how long had you known him for? The time was a drop in the ocean for how long he’d known the Doctor.

“You know,” you said, trying to keep the crack out of your voice, “I really thought that this time was going to be different. That we’d finally go somewhere where she wasn’t.”

“I-”

“You promised,” this time your voice did break and you coughed, trying to cover it up but failing, “just one time I wanted it to be you and me. Just the two of us.”

“And I-”

“Do I really mean nothing to you?”

Silence followed your words. You flung another shirt into the suitcase before finally turning around to face him. You had never seen the Master look like that before. Hurt was clearly evident all over his face and he didn’t even try to hide that. Usually he kept his emotions fairly close to his chest. You paused for a second before slowly returning to packing. However, your heart wasn’t really in it.

“That’s not fair,” he said at last, “You know that’s not the reason why.”

You took a deep breath and dropped the jeans you were holding, not even bothering to pack them away. You gripped the edge of the suitcase and said quietly,

“You didn’t tell me the reason why. What else am I meant to think?”

“You ran off before I could explain.”

You stiffened as you felt the Master’s hands on your shoulders. He rubbed small circles against them and pressed his forehead in between your shoulder blades. You closed your eyes and leant back into his touch. Slowly he trailed his fingers up and down your arms and said softly,

“I didn’t know that she and her pathetic humans were going to be there. If I had, do you really think I would’ve gone there? She left me to die. Do you really think I want to see her again after what she did to me? I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“You have done in the past.”

“That’s the past,” he muttered, “this is now.”

One hand snaked around and grabbed your chin. He tilted your head back so you were looking into his eyes. He gave you a soft smile before spinning you around and pressing his forehead against yours.

“I can show you,” he said, “if you desire.”

Your breath hitched. The Master had told you about intimate sharing a mind could be. It was something that he had wanted to do but never quite willing to ask you. What happened if you said that you didn’t want to.

“No.” you said

“No?”

Now it was the Master’s turn. You winced at the tone of his voice. Quickly you took his hands and gave them a brief squeeze.

“I mean,” you clarified, “that I believe you. I don’t want our… first time to be for you to prove to me that you’re telling the truth.”

You pressed a brief kiss against his lips and rested your head against his chest. The Master smirked before slowly returning the hug. Contact with another living being (that he wasn’t trying to kill) was something he was slowly getting used to.

“Just promise me that the next place you take me, the Doctor won’t be there.”

“Don’t worry,” the Master’s hands trailed lower, “I know the perfect place and I guarantee she won’t be there. It’ll just be the two of us.”

[kinglivv]

Is it Casual Now?

Kate Lethbridge Stewart x reader

Summary: You and Kate are closer than what friends with benefits should really be.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sex, dysfunctional relationship

A/N: based off the chappell roan song!

You’d promised yourself you’d stop sleeping with her.

You hadn’t told Kate this of course, but then why would you? It was casual. She’d told you that. She’d made it explicitly clear whenever you’d asked the dreaded “what are we?” question. You’d overheard her say it to Mel. You saw it in the way she never mentioned you to her kids.

The thing was, sex with Kate Stewart could never be casual.

Casual was not thinking about her every waking moment. Casual was not having an album of her in your camera roll. Casual was not baby-sitting her cat when she had a late night at the office.

But that doesn’t seem to occur to her and so, you decide, it’s probably time to stop having sex with your boss.

This plan lasts all of three weeks. Three weeks of ignoring her glances, missing her calls and pretending not to notice her stuff littered around your flat.

And then, as fate has it, you’re assigned to a stake-out with her. It was pure coincidence - you were the only two with enough experience and, as it happens, enough flexi-hours left to work outwith the usual 9 to 5.

You sit in the dark with her in silence for all of 30 minutes, before she turns to you and gives you that look. You know you don’t stand a chance and within minutes, you’re allowing her to clamber into you lap, willingly pushing your seat back and then she’s knee-deep in the passenger seat and her mouth is on you. You come on the expensive leather of the UNIT-issue car and you’re thanking your lucky stars for the tinted windows.

Later, when you’ve got her in the backseat and she’s in your arms, breathing finally evening out, she looks up at you and smiles, “Missed you.”

She doesn’t even realise you’ve been avoiding her. She thinks you’ve just been busy.

And just like that you settle into your old routine.

It used to be a rare occasion. It first happened after a tipsy kiss at the work Christmas do, and then a few months later it happened again after a successful mission when you were both giddy from the adrenaline. Then it became every few weeks. Then, it became every Friday evening. Then it became every Saturday morning, because you kept staying the night.

You talk to Mel about it briefly. She’s the only one who knows there’s anything going on between you and Kate, and she tells you bluntly that you shouldn’t be lusting after a twice-divorced, emotionally unavailable woman who was heading up the most clandestine department in Government. In other words, you’re a loser.

So, you try a different strategy to get over her. Said strategy involves sex with someone else from Tinder following a mediocre date. You can’t find your favourite bralette and although she’s pretty, she doesn’t make you come. It’s only afterwards when she’s fallen asleep that you remember the bralette’s in Kate’s dresser.

The following night, Kate turns up on your front step in a red silk dress and pins you against the door. She’d been at some boring dinner. She told you she liked the idea of your lap, her dress around her waist and your strap dipping in her. Just like that, your plan once again goes out the window.

You meet her mum one morning when you’re leaving Kate’s house for work. Kate mumbles some story about you needing to stay over because you had no hot water, and the old lady takes it at face value. You chat to her at the breakfast table whilst Kate makes coffee, and find you have everything in common. Before you know it, you’ve got an invite to her holiday home in St Ive’s - she’s too old to get down there now and how have you never visited before?

The holiday there with Kate is heavenly. You spent a whole week sleeping next to her in bed. She shows you her favourite lunch spot. You teach her how to plait your hair. You fuck her on the beach. Because your whole relationship revolves around sex. Of course. Obviously.

You argue about it once. Just the once.

You’re watching a movie, bowl of popcorn between you. It’s one of the rare evenings you’ve both managed to get home, and when you’d turned up at her door she’d held up a DVD of the Italian Job and invited you in.

You found yourself gazing at her in the light of the television, the chattering mere background noise.

“I could do this forever, you know,” you confess softly.

She tears her eyes away from the screen, smirks at you.

“No attachments, remember?” She teases.

Suddenly any semblance of peace and relaxation you were feeling evaporates. The anxiety curls up in your stomach like a dead spider.

“Yeah because our relationship is nothing more than sex,” you respond sarcastically.

She looks taken aback. You’re picking a fight, you know, but you’ve been desperate for an opportunity.

“We’re not together, Y/N.” She points out.

“Yeah but you’ll act like it. When it suits you.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“We’re literally sat here watching your favourite movie at 10pm,” you say, “I have keys to your place. You know my middle name. You do know what I mean.”

“I really don’t.” She says, in that flat tone she uses at work when she makes an order. It means she’s right and she’s not entertaining any debate.

“Fuck off, Kate,” you shove the blankets off and hope she hears the door slam behind you.

She pulls you into her office the next day, and apologises for arguing but doesn’t apologise for what she said. She kisses you and you can’t help but forgive her.

The thing is, Kate gets you. She knows exactly what you want. She buys you matching lingerie for your birthday. She brings you coffee at work. She fucks you after a near death experience so you can feel something. She gives you lifts to your pilates class. She moans something suspiciously close to “I love you” when she comes in your shower, and you do your best to forget about it. She helps you choose what colour to paint your kitchen. She gets you off again. And again and again. The cycle is inescapable, all because you’re too weak to say no to those eyes.

The tipping point is some time around the one year mark, when this dilemma of yours is at least 5 months old. You can’t remember how many times you’d mentally called it off.

You’re in her bed (where else would you be?), suitably fucked and lying half on top of her, a strong arm wrapped around your waist. Her phone pings, and you groan as she pulls away to pick it off the bedside table.

“Oh,” she remarks, reading the message. “Charlotte’s cancelled dinner with Gordy and his new girlfriend tonight.”

“What?” You mumble, half asleep and pressing into her neck further.

“Charlotte.” She repeats. “We were meant to be going for dinner tonight with Gordy. He’s got a new girlfriend he wants to formally introduce to the family. But she’s got a migraine, says she’s not coming.”

You were used to the background noise of Kate’s family life. Charlotte and Gordy didn’t feature greatly in your relationship, busy at university, and Kate had purposely kept you at arms length from them. You knew everything about Charlotte and Gordy, but you’d never met them and they’d never met you.

“Do you…” she says hesitantly, “do you want to come? The reservations for four, and you know how much I hate meeting his rotation of girlfriends. I can’t do it alone.”

You look up at her.

“I thought I was a separate thing to your kids?”

“Yeah but, you’re one of my best friends. I’ll tell them that.”

You sigh an agreement, trying not to think of that word “friends”, and before you know it you’re sat next to her in a fancy restaurant opposite Gordy - who is rather disconcertingly the spitting image of his mother - and his timid girlfriend.

Kate’s hand is dancing on your thigh. You’re trying not to think about the suit she’s wearing. Gordy’s looking in between you two suspiciously, and vaguely you wonder if he’s used to his mother’s antics, if you’re not the first girl she’s fawned over.

She excuses herself between the main course and dessert and as she disappears into the bathroom she winks at you. You muster some excuse about needing to check your make up, and then you’re slipping into the bathroom behind her, locking the door and pleased to see there’s a mirror over the sink.

You bend her over it and fuck her from behind (you know that gets her off fastest and time is of the essence here), but you can’t quite bring yourself to meet her eyes in the mirror. Not three minutes later, she’s leaning into back against the sink and you’re straightening out her lapel and wiping away her smudged mascara. She dips down and kisses you, pushes you against the wall, starts to fiddle with the hem of your skirt.

“Wait, Kate. Stop,.” you push her off you. She steps back, frowning.

“What?” She asks.

“You’re not fucking me in a restaurant whilst your son waits at our table.”

She looks crestfallen. Offended, even. Not at your refusal, but rather at the way you’d laid out the reality of the situation so bluntly.

You return to the table - Gordy and his girlfriend seem too wrapped up in each other to have noticed your absence - and you can’t help but feel somewhat bitter and used. The atmosphere is icy. Maybe you are just some colleague she bangs on her sofa when she needs it.

Afterwards, when you’re sat in your car outside the restaurant, you send her the fatal text.

I don’t want to do this anymore.

She doesn’t reply.

[am-i-obsessed---maybe]

Can I Hold Your Hand? (11th Doctor x GN!Reader)

Maybe actually writing a blurb? This can't be. Shock.

Anyway this series finally has a name! My Doctor Who x Genderfluid!Reader series is officially named Changing Faces, Static Hearts and just in time for me to be too lazy to write any of the serious stories I wanted to write for it so you get stupid blurbs like this🙃 I'll find the energy eventually, maybe when word dies down a bit.

according to it's place in the series Reader is technically male here but it's not mentioned so I'm putting it as GN

Wordcount: like 200

27) "Can I hold your hand?"

28) "There is no way this much stupid can fit inside one person"

You'd been in a lot of very strange situations with the Doctor. You'd been kidnapped, snowed into a haunted hotel, almost married (twice), you'd even met another version of yourself(long story) but you had yet to be wrapped in the tongue of a giant reptilian monster, smooshed against the man who's big mouth had gotten you wrapped in the slimy tongue of said reptile.

"Y/N?" The Doctor asked.

"Yes love?" You asked in return, your face stretched in exasperation.

"Can I hold your hand?" Asked the Doctor. You could feel his slime covered palm worming it's way closer to your own hand.

"Why?" You asked.

"Because I feel like your mad at me and I was hoping if we were holding hands you'd be less mad at me" The Doctor said, trying to pry your clenched fist open to insert his palm against yours.

You took a deep breath.

"I'm not mad at you" You said.

"Are you sure?" He asked, his floppy hair was stuck to his forehead as wind blew in your faces. The monster holding you was running and had been running for at least 15 minutes. It had yet to so much as slow down.

"I'm sure love"

"Then why does your face look like that?" He asked and you took a deep breath.

"Because there is no way so much stupid can fit inside one person" You said.

"Oi!"

[daydreaming-of-doctor-who]

Being in a platonic relationship with the Twelfth Doctor:

A/N: I was taking a look at my masterlist and I realized I haven't really done anything for 12 yet and thought this was unacceptable...so here I am, trying to make it up by writing a little something up for him.

At first, he's against the hugging. NOT THE HUGGING!

But don't worry, he actually doesn't really mind it. If anything, he just isn't sure how to process it. He honestly needs it though.

He's okay with holding hands. He likes how soft and warm your hands are and will even squeeze your hand a little as a sign of comfort or to get your attention.

He takes you to fancy restaurants and cafes, but don't expect an amusement park or anything else out of him. Okay...maybe if you really talk him into it, he might change his mind.

He just wants to see you smile, make sure you are safe and happy just being by his side.

It would honestly break him if he lost you.

He would spend millennia trying to get you back and put himself in harms way to make it happen, so please, stay safe.

You are able to calm him down and bring down his grumpy moods.

GUITAR CONCERTS JUST FOR YOU!

He will even teach you how to play the guitar. Maybe you can start a band?

JUST GIVE HIM A HUG, PLEASE!

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 18

Synopsis: The Doctor makes good on his thoughts. His fawn becomes trapped in them.

A/n: listen I know it's been fucking ages. Life's difficult. I'm back. Hopefully. Yall still want him? Warnings for blood and such.

You felt yourself muffle a yawn as you stumbled half-drunk with your boyfriend holding you upright. You settled on calling him your boyfriend. It felt, at least partially, correct. You didn’t really know how long that his species lived. He could have still been young by his standards. Well over two-thousand years young, but you mentally digressed.

The night air slapped you sober.

You didn’t realize how much you had drunk. Your mind was absolutely swimming. It felt like you couldn’t maintain a solid stream of thought. Moreover, it felt entirely different than your usual scatter-brained web of concepts that could be linked easily by you and you alone. Many found you off-topic or impertinent, but they didn’t get that you were being respectful and your mind was linking everything to the subject at hand that was even vaguely related.

The Doctor did, however. These thoughts soothed you. Thinking about him was becoming more important than air in your lungs. He seemed to always be exactly in your direction and understood what was going on.

You blinked as quickly as you could as you were slumped into the taxi by the Doctor. His brilliant smile beamed at you like the cat and that dammed canary. No one you had met before or since carried the gravity of his grins. His teeth always on display, even if it his mouth had been turned down and closed. Images of wolves suddenly floating in your head.

You really must have over estimated that last drink!

His fingers played with the tendrils of your hair. Smoothing it, fingering the last of your dead ends.

They felt good. You felt both emboldened by this tactile display of affection and a little embarrassed. The thoughts you always had towards him felt warranted. Always. He was always inviting them, even if he didn’t seem like it. That was something that stuck with him since the first time you walked into his classes.

Tactile and seemingly unaware that the entire way he carried on was like catnip. Or he was aware and didn’t care. You didn’t know or care.

All of time and space, countless lovers. Countless companions. Endless wanderlust…

And here he was. Some universal warrior deity. Yet, here he was settling down, taking cabs and being escorted around just because you frankly didn’t want to become a statistic. He apparently had the ability to pick up and go to whenever, wherever and not have to worry about traffic or delays.

But for you? He had tamed himself.

His universe had become small, just you, his very attractive ex-situationship in her hidden Vault, these military organizations, and that Nardole you’ve never seen.

From the complaints left by him over literally everything, (including your relationship with the Doctor!) You weren’t quite sure you wanted to meet him.

What a nerd and a narc!

Soon enough, you found yourself back in the room. All cozy and pliant. Eager to see him naked and act out all of those hidden thoughts that you couldn’t repress in the pub. Your wobbly legs betrayed you as you went to yank your shoes off and toss your purse down.

“Damn.” You giggled as you adjusted yourself and rub the bridge of your nose with the base of your palm. “Tell me to never drink that much again in public…” You shook your head.

He leaned down to your level and bit your lower lip as he pulled your top off and laying feverish new bites on where he bit you last night. Hard, sharp and definitely not helping that growing wet spot on your panties. One of those impressive, perfect hands grasped your jaw and covering virtually all of your face squeezed lightly.

You felt your mind suddenly grow very dim and yet ravenous. You needed this, you needed him.

He certainly had no troubles liberating you from your clothes. Or somehow getting his belt and pants around his knees.

“You’re really something strange, aren’t you?” He mused as he tore himself out of the flesh of your nipple. You could feel the blood start to fleck up.

Definitely would have to take even more time off work than you already were doing…

He slowly and deliberately pinned you to the ground as he managed to take both of your wrists in one of his long-fingers hands. His expression clouded by lust and one of those emotions you thought were clearly something that humans just didn’t have in them. It seemed imperious and predatory, yet all too adoring.

You were awash. Your cunt ached. Your mind felt itself retract- like you were actively getting stupid trying to make eye contact with him. You felt yourself muffle a groan as he slipped his cock in in a firm and savage thrust.

The hand at your jaw and face tightened. You could feel the corner of a nail cut into your face.

This seemed about you and also not. More about him.

All your training (for lack of a better word…) seemed to flee. Here he was, one of the last of his species, cradling your pinned body to the hull of the floor as he drilled your leaking pussy. It seemed like he was saying something in that horrific, almost song like language he used to visit Missy in her Vault.

It sent a bone-chilling shake through your system. Just like when you first heard it. Not that you could judge.

Not like you could at this moment. His grip on you increased as he fucked you harder. Each thrust came quicker and deeper. You found the pain both increasingly hard to ignore but more lovely with each savage groan he made. It was enjoyable. Too much so. Felt alien. Felt deranged.

The grip on your face tightened once more! Your tongue pinned by his thumb.

You felt yourself start to convulse as your mind went blank. Blissfully and inhumanely blank. Did you cum? Was this you cumming? You didn’t know.

You didn’t even register his teeth nearly ripping the soft area between your neck and clavicle to shreds.

How long did he go on? You could swear you heart a haunting song being sung in your mind. Time slipped further down…

Was it more of him speaking?

You finally got your mind back in pieces as he finished on your stomach. The sensation snapped you back to reality. Your heart began racing. You felt yourself start to cry.

You felt so great, yet more than a little violated. (Was this normal, you felt yourself wander in your mind, what was this?)

He seemingly realized something.

He shushed you as he collected your shaking form in his lap. You felt so tiny. Like a small dog on a rich lady’s lap. You felt your eyes try to focus on him.

“My sweet fawn. You did so well. You’re so perfect for me.” He resumed in English.

His hand wiped the tears and blood and your hair back.

Your eyes couldn’t focus completely yet.

“You are…all I need. All I want.” He reassured you as he rocked you back and forth. “Don’t worry. No one in any corner of the universe can lay a finger on you.”

This was the comfort that restored your vision entirely. You looked at him. You felt like you were some primitive human seeing a God! Scared, in full adoration, and more than a little servile. The tears began again. More shushing, more petting, more praise. You curled so deeply into his chest and wept harder. You swore you never cried so hard in your life. You felt so incredibly good, yet every part of you burned and ached.

You hiccupped and he stroked the back of your neck. It made you go slightly limp.

“Why don’t I wash you, hmm?” He offered as he pulled you up in his arms and carried you into the bathroom. He laid you down and grabbed your shower stuff.

He tested the water on him. It seemed to go on for a while.

He washed you and even did your skin care on your still limp form.

“Fawn?” He asked as you caught your body in mirror. You were pale and bruised. Scabs had started to form on you.

It was shocking.

“I…can’t work like this?” Was all you managed to choke out.

“I’ve got you. When were back in Bristol, yeah? I’ve gotten some alien technology in my TARDIS. You won’t even have a scar.” He offered, a smile creeped up his face. It seemed smug and self-serving.

You shook yourself.

You trusted him, fully without any hesitation. If he said so, he said so.

He slid your into your pajamas and slid next to you in bed. Still naked.

“Sleep.” He commanded as he wrapped his arms around you. “Tomorrow, I need your help.”

And as if by magic, you felt yourself slip into a deep sleep. You dreamed of swirling galaxies and more strange songs twisted into it.

When you woke, it was with such a fright. He wasn’t next to you, and it made you panic. He was already dressed. He was twirling some object in his hands.

“You’ve slept in. Not that I can blame you…” He snorted. “Don’t worry, I’ve taken the liberty of choosing clothes. I’ve even got breakfast!”

He offered you a cup of coffee and helped you out of bed.

It was simple, a black tank top and a pair of jeans. He offered you the sheer lace shrug you planned on using as layering if he took you out again for a night out on town.

“I’ve been meaning to give this to you.” He slid you a gold chain with a small, but heavy pendant on it. It had some small circular design on it. It swirled around itself and had some dots in places.

“I know how you enjoy jewelry.” He motioned to the tangled knot of necklaces you wore all day, every day, even in sleep.

You went to put it on. It rested as if fighting the small symbols of your faith for attention on your person. Or, perhaps, even your soul itself...

He parted them for you and made sure that his special necklace rested firmly under the hollow of your throat.

“I meant it last night. Not even the Cybermen could take you from me. The entire dark hoards of the Never Were’s and Always Was’s will not harm you so long as you’re by my side.” His tone shifted as he helped you help yourself to a bit of the porridge he had for you.

You still shook.

He let you apply your make up. You decided it was no use to try to waste all your concealer and foundation on the wounds on your neck.

He tousled your hair and smiled at you.

He helped you into your shoes and you both walked out of the door. You firmly found your nails grasping into his coats arm as you still were having trouble even standing, yet alone walking.

The lift ride down into a subterranean area, meeting all these people was quiet. Petronella and that Lethbridge-Stewart woman and more were waiting.

They all focused on you and you could feel their eyes bore into your neck and chest. You didn’t know what to feel.

You instinctively took all your cues from him.

All these soldiers and scientists did too. They all spoke of things that seemed beyond your recently tousled-haired comprehension.

When the Doctor spoke to you, and used your real name to get your opinion, you jumped. To hear your own name, especially from him now seemed foreign.

A fawn you shall be, you felt yourself say in your mind.

You made up some fake statistic about something. You had to. Your mind was flailing and you looked at your good Doctor as if that would help.

You mind felt never more silent. It felt odd.

You shook yourself once more.

You felt your mind flood back in. It was a sharp, tickling sensation. Loud, screaming and on high alert. As if it had been forced down and silenced on purpose.

You swept those thoughts aside. He needed you, and needed you to focus and help him.

Suddenly all the tawdry statistics about crime in metropolitan areas you studied for papers came rushing in. It was very good. Apparently, they were looking for what petty crimes could be aliens doing a bad job at integration and were pushing some prearranged boundaries on when they could emerge and the planet could feasibly support aliens and humans as willing co-sponsors of the planet.

They took your data and entered it in.

Success!

“She’s a whizz with those, yeah?” The Doctor pointed at hand at you and praised you openly. “Great stuff.”

It made your cheeks flush and your panties get a little wet spot on them. You felt nothing but a soothing warmth spread from your scalp to the soles of your feet.

Him and a few other scientists went to go prime something. You didn’t know what.

You went to the small area set up for self-service of tea and coffee. Petronella trailed after you. It was a hard journey, you wobbled a few times for such a short trip.

“Those are some marks?” She pried at you as she pointed towards where the Doctor had given you in the night. “Were you attacked last night when you were out?” The deep care and worry in her voice made you feel a vacant ache in your chest.

“No, no. No?” You stuttered. Your hand automatically went to the most egregious of them. Teeth marks fully imprinted as reddish-black stabbed divots.

“Then where’d you get them?” More concern in her tone.

Your eyes flashed over to the Doctor and then to the ground. You didn’t know how to respond.

She muttered a barely audible “Oh.” Her eyes gazed at you with understanding. “Did you have fun?” She asked for lack of a better way to press on. Her eyes looked back at the Doctor and back at the mess that was your neck and chest in a few quick takes. She seemed like her mind was trying to wrap itself around something.

Did you? You could hardly recall most of it.

You chalked it up to the alcohol in your system.

“Yeah.” You nodded your head. “We had fun.”

She didn’t seem to disagree. Although, a glint of something rested in the back corners of her eyes…

She trailed you back to your seat.

You let a long, shaky breath as you went to sip more coffee. You wished he was the one helping you drink. Your hands still were not exactly stable. Him doing that at breakfast was oddly fitting. Felt like it should be that way.

You gave more opinions and input. He lauded on the praise.

The wet spot was growing in size under your jeans. Your cunt was positively aching once again. Your heart raced.

It felt like he was winding you up.

Maybe he was…

[yandere-toons]

How would the other yandere doctor who doctors react to the fifteenth doctor becoming yandere for reader?

"I'm still the favourite," Eleven is purported to have said, and scattered laughter was heard across the ether.

[magiccath]

Hold Me Tight (Or Don't)

The Doctor x Reader (written with 10 in mind, but works for any Doctor if you squint)

Summary: In which you just need a little physical affection from your favorite Time Lord

A/N: yeah the title is a Fall Out Boy song, what about it?

By most standards, the Doctor was a fairly touchy individual. It wasn’t something he did consciously, or even a habit he was generally aware of. He wasn’t ever overwhelming about it; touches from the Doctor usually came in the most casual of manners. His hand tangling in yours, dragging you along as he sprinted away from (or more often, towards) danger. Or he’d gather you up in his arms, lifting your feet off the ground with pure enthusiasm as he murmured how incredibly brilliant you had been. 

As time went on, the touches became more frequent - his hand found its way into yours and his arms found their way around your middle more often. You’d never thought of yourself as particularly ‘touched starved’ before the Doctor, but you found that quickly changing. 

You started to crave his gentle touches in a way you never had before. It was like a bug bite - a tantalizing feeling deep inside of you that you longed to itch. Technically, you could, you were completely able to, but the outcome tended not to be advisable. While you knew you had an affliction for the alien’s touch, you didn’t have the faintest clue where he stood on the matter. If he knew just how much his minor affections meant to you, he might stop them altogether. You found that sometimes, it was better to have a little bit of something than not to have it at all. 

Subconsciously, you started to seek out his touch in the smallest of ways; a brush of your pinky against the back of his hand, a gentle tug on his coat sleeve, an adjustment of his constantly wayward tie. Sometimes, your hand almost clung to his, only reluctantly pulling away when his fingers untangled themselves from yours. You clung to his frame tighter, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in the crook of his neck when he hugged you, clinging to him like a lifeline. 

If he noticed, the Doctor chose not to comment on your affliction for his physical touch. Honestly, it made sense that the Doctor didn’t notice. He didn't notice a lot of things, especially for someone who claimed to notice all things. Sure, he knew the important stuff, but he wasn’t always the best with subtle emotions or social cues. Sometimes his obliviousness was borderline painful (and at the worst of times, dangerous), but other times it saved you from embarrassment. 

Regardless of the reasoning, you were glad that the Doctor remained oblivious to your longing touches. You didn’t know how he would react to it all. Even more, you didn’t know how to approach the subject at all. “Will you let me just hold onto you for 3-5 business days? For some reason, I feel the need to be constantly touching you. Please and thank you.” 

So, you stayed silent. You found yourself laying awake in bed at night, longing for the secure feeling of his hand in yours. You watched him work on the TARDIS console, constantly fighting the urge to walk over and hug his slender middle as tightly as you could manage. He handed you things and the momentary brush of his fingers made you want to cry with complete and utter need. 

The thought of him wormed its way inside of your brain, nestling deep inside until it was borderline impossible to ignore. Your heart ached for him - for the gentle and loving way that he held your hand, for the caring brushes of his fingers against your cheeks, for the feel of his arms snaking around you, pulling you closer and closer to his body. You ached for him. 

Some days were worse than others - when you had a bad day the aching need burned inside of you, threatening to boil over. On those days, you sought comfort in any way you could, oftentimes hiding away in your bed, clinging to your pillow like a small child. In contrast, the good days were easy. Those days that you spent running around the cosmos with the Doctor, your hands firmly intertwined. At the end of those days, you fell asleep with a smile on your face, the phantom feeling of his hand in yours etched into your memory. 

-

The Doctor knew that you considered him oblivious. Most times, he wouldn’t even bother to argue with you. It wasn’t that he was oblivious per se, but rather that he was selective in his attention. He cared very little for pears or people who talked tantalizingly slow, but he was rapt when it came to puzzles and you. 

You were his favorite companion, of course he paid attention to you. He knew that you bounced your leg when you were anxious, he knew exactly how you took your tea, your favorite kind of biscuit, and the name of your first pet. Most notably, he was starting to notice a shift in your behavior when it came to him. 

Whenever he touched you, you seemed to tense against him before relaxing and practically melting into his touch. Your fingers would twitch when he held your hand, or your arms shook when he hugged you. The first few times it happened he attributed it to other things - nerves, too much caffeine, hunger, etc. As it continued to happen, the Doctor started to worry. 

Maybe you were touch adverse and he was just now realizing. He mentally kicked himself for being so stupid and oblivious. He wasn’t oblivious when it came to you, he wasn’t supposed to be. You were one of the few things in the universe that could hold his attention for ridiculously extended periods of time. 

As he worked on the TARDIS machinery he felt your eyes on him, the weight of your gaze boring down on him. A sudden dread filled him, the fear of you being cross with him enough to send him crawling into a deep, dark cave. With a frustrated groan, he tossed the tool he had been using to the side. He brushed his hands against his trousers and stood up, crawling out of the hole in the grating he had been down in. 

“Are you mad at me?” he asked curtly, deciding it was best to not beat around the bush. 

Your eyes widened quickly in response, shocked by the sudden question as well as the content of the question. “No?”

“You’d tell me if you were, right? We’re best mates you’re supposed to tell me when you’re cross.” 

“I’m not cross,” you retort, your brow furrowed. You wondered where the Doctor got such an idea. He was known to misread social cues, but he had gotten pretty good at reading yours. “You’d know if I was cross,” you added.

“If you don’t like physical touch you could have just told me,” he grumbled quietly, his tone reminiscent of a sulking toddler. He was hurt and almost offended that you hadn’t just told him. You could tell him anything, surely you knew that?

“Who told you that?” Your frown deepened. The Doctor was very good at being wrong, a lot better than he would ever admit to. Still, this was a new kind of off-base, even for him. 

The Doctor tilted his head to the side slightly, “You’ve been acting weird about it lately.” 

“No, I haven’t,” you say, almost too quickly. 

“You-” he struggled to find the exact word, his big Time Lord brain whirling away. “You twitch when I touch you,” he tried, but it still didn’t seem to express his thought process. “It’s more than that, it’s like you tense for a split second when I touch you.”

“Do I?” 

The Doctor nodded, “It’s like my touch burns you, but you’re too nice to tell me.” 

“I’m not too nice to not tell you anything. I will proudly tell you that your hair makes you look like a cockatoo on drugs.”

The Doctor practically pouted, his hand subconsciously flying into his unruly hair, “It does not- That- that’s not the point,” he frowns. 

“I’m not mad about the touch, Doctor. I’d have no problem telling you if I was.” At least that was true. The whole situation would be a great deal easier if you were severely averse to his touch. He wouldn’t think twice if you told him you didn’t like to be touched, so why did it feel like such a big deal the other way around? 

“But you’re mad?” 

“I’m not mad,” you sigh. Now it was your turn to grapple for words. Why did it have to be so hard to explain emotions? 

“It’s not that I don’t like your touch. Really quite the opposite,” you started rambling, looking more at the floor than the Doctor himself. “It’s not that I want you to touch me less, it’s that I want you to touch me more.” 

He raised an eyebrow, slightly stunned by the confession. 

“Not like that!” you say quickly, realizing how it sounded. It wasn’t like that, not at all. 

“I wasn’t even thinking about it like that,” he frowned, finding your comment defensive. 

“I just mean-” you groan, hiding your face in your hands, “I find myself wanting more hugs, more hand-holding, stuff like that.” 

“Why didn’t you just ask?” 

“It seemed weird,” you murmur, still not looking up from your hiding spot. 

“It’s perfectly normal to crave affection,” the Doctor shrugged, clinical as ever. No matter what you said, he always found a way to make it sound ‘perfectly normal’. Somewhere, someplace, sometime, it most likely was.

“It’s not something that I experienced before,” you admit, finally looking up from your hands. You still don’t meet his eyes, your gaze finding it more comfortable to look at your trainers. “I didn’t need it like I do now, it didn’t eat at me.” 

“You should have told me sooner,” he sighed, his voice closer to you now. Your eyes flitted upwards, meeting his. “I don’t like seeing you in pain, you know?” he said, resting his hands on your arms. His thumbs rubbed soft circles against your skin, the gesture so painfully caring it made you want to cry. 

“I didn’t know how,” you admit, finally looking into his eyes. They were always so soft like his default setting was puppy dog. It was hard not to get lost in those endless pools of chocolate brown. 

The Doctor pulled you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. You could hear the steady sound of his hearts beating, the twin organs just barely out of sync with each other. The four-beat rhythm reverberated through your head, the sound oddly calming and familiar to you. 

You gave up on acting strong, pretending that this wasn’t exactly what you needed. Instead, you just melted into his touch, wrapping your arms around his waist in return. Your fingers tangled in the fabric of his suit jacket, clutching onto the garment like your life depended on it. 

The familiar smell of the Doctor flooded your senses. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what the smell was, but it was trademark Doctor to you. Not quite a sandalwood musk, maybe an alien version of it? A strange mix of cinnamon, cloves, and vanilla - a combination that strangely did not coincide to create the smell of a Snickerdoodle. Sometimes he smelled like fresh linen after he did his laundry or switched out his suit. It didn’t matter what the exact scent notes were, you could recognize his smell anywhere. 

You held on a little tighter to his suit, pressing your face further into his chest. The Doctor grunted slightly in surprise as you squeezed him, making you ease up a little bit on your grip. His hands run up and down your spine, rubbing soft and gentle circles. 

It was a bit of an awkward position, the two of you in a tangled embrace on the floor. Your back was starting to hurt, but you didn’t dare move. What if this was your only chance to hold onto him like this?

“Do you wanna get off the floor?” the Doctor murmured, his hand still rubbing up and down your back in a comforting rhythm. 

“Yeah,” you whisper back but remain entirely stationary on the floor. You felt glued to him, unable to move even if you wanted to. 

“You’re gonna have to let go of me for that,” he chuckled, also making no moves to let go of you. When you also showed no signs of moving, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He started to let go of you, moving to get up from the floor. In protest, your arms tightened around him. 

“If you want to move off of the hard metal floor, you’re going to have to let go of me,” he whispered, stroking the back of your head reassuringly. “I promise we can go back to this, I’d just prefer somewhere more comfortable.” 

Reluctantly, you complied, untangling your arms from around his middle. The Doctor got up first, extending a hand down to help you up from the floor as well. Even after he pulled you upright, he didn’t let go of your hand, a small gesture that you were immensely grateful for. 

Silently, he led you down the hall and into the library. The room was a vast rotunda with seemingly endless shelves of books spanning multiple floors upwards. Gentle light came from vintage lamps and cream-colored candles that never seemed to burn out. Several worn-out pieces of furniture were littered around the room, many of which you had fallen asleep in at one time or another. 

The Doctor selected the largest seat in the room, a plush L-shaped couch with a garish but faded floral pattern. Unceremoniously he flopped into the corner, opening your arms in invitation for you to join him. 

Without hesitation, you practically fell into his arms. You curled up against him, resting your head back against his chest. In turn, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you against his frame. 

“This better?” he asked, brushing your hair away from your face, his fingers tickling your cheek. You nodded in response, nuzzling yourself further into him. Your face found its way into the crook of his neck, your nose slotting perfectly against the curvature of his shoulder. The Doctor sighed in contentment and rested his cheek on top of your head. 

You felt like nothing more than a puddle in his arms, finally able to melt against him like you had wanted for so many months. Now that you were snuggled against him, you weren’t sure you would ever be able to let go. 

As if reading your thoughts, he broke the silence, “We can stay here for as long as you need.” 

“Thank you,” you exhaled quietly, your heart fluttering at his compassion. 

The two of you stayed like that for the rest of the day, snuggled up in the TARDIS library together. The Doctor made a conscious effort to make this a regular thing, especially on days when you weren’t feeling your best. All you had to do was say the word and he would drop everything to comfort you. After all, you were his favorite companion.