#doctorwho fanfiction

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Riled Up (Tenth Doctor)

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open and encouraged (im begging)

Summary: The Doctor grows tired of you trying to work him up.

CW: smut, frottage, closet sex (lmao), the Doctor is jealous, biting, tame dirty talk (imo), thigh riding, gender neutral reader

Doctor Who tag list: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

“Can I ask,” the Doctor says, pulling you down a hallway and into a tight closet. “What- are you doing?” 

He sounds angry. The expression on his face is hard. Eyes wide, mouth pursed into a thin line. You’re almost sure you can see a vein pulsing in his forehead. In his defence, you had been flirting with the ambassador for Pilch. In your defence, however, you’d not been flirting for reasons other than diplomatic strategy. But the Doctor clearly did not like it either way. 

“I’m not doing anything,” you replied indignantly, knowing exactly what you were doing. It had been somewhat of a game for you the last little while. How far can you push him before he snaps? You knew he wanted you, and he knew that you wanted him. You weren’t entirely sure what it was that was holding him back, but you were determined to break that barrier down brick by brick. It just so happened that the one time you weren’t actively trying to turn him on and get him to shag you in the bushes was the one time it apparently seemed to work.

“Bollocks,” he growled, pushing you up against the closet wall. The Doctor crowded into your space, nosing at your jaw and forcing you to raise your chin in submission. You sucked in a breath, hands reaching for his hips as he forced your knees apart and slotted his own between them. “You’re teasing me. You’ve been taunting me for weeks. Is this what you want?” 

The Doctor bit at your jaw, the sharpness of his teeth making you whimper. His hands squeezed at your hips and he rubbed his knee against you. 

“O-oh,” you whimpered before biting your lip to keep the sounds in. 

The Doctor tutted, pulling you into a kiss to make you release your lip as he rubbed your hips over his leg, rolling you against him so that the friction jolted electric pleasure up your spine.

“Want- want to hear you,” he said heavily, eyes dark with lust. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t answer my question, love.” 

Your hips begin to move of their own accord, working with the push and pull of his warm hands to bring you closer to the edge. Oh, this was not how you were expecting today to go. Not that you were complaining, of course. 

“I- It wasn’t my intention,” you panted, wrapping your arms around him tighter and moaning into his ear. He shivered as the sounds reverberated through his system. “But I can’t say I haven’t been trying to wind y-ngh-you up lately.” You nipped his earlobe to punctuate the point. 

The Doctor rubs his leg up against you harshly, delighting in the moans that fall from your pretty mouth.  

“Mm, see- I think you’re a liar,” he chuckles, gripping particularly tight at your hip. “You want this. You want me to fuck you, don’t you? The Doctor, huh? Bit of an age gap, but I’ll let it slide.” 

One of his hands releases your hip to palm at himself in his trousers. He groans, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Oh-oh- yes, maybe I should do this more often, hm? Maybe,” he trails off, licking a long stripe up the column of your throat. “Maybe I should split you open on my cock? Watch you tire yourself out. I’d like that. Would you like that? Oh, look at that blush. You would, wouldn’t you? You want to split yourself open on the Doctor’s cock.” 

He lets out a breathy laugh as you grind against him harder, getting so close now. 

“That’s it,” he whispers, bouncing his leg up to give you the extra stimulation. “Cum for me- God, please- cum for me.” 

It hits you all at once, the pleasure rippling from your core and through your body. You can feel your muscles spasming as you continue to rut against him, your arms grow tired and heavy and the Doctor laughs as he has to hold you up while your legs twitch with pleasure. 

“That’s it, love- just like that- oh, so good for me, aren’t you? Shh, that’s it. You’re alright, love.” 

The Doctor caresses your hair, holding you up and in his embrace. You’re panting into his shoulder, nerves alight and scorched with pleasure. 

“I don’t think the Ambassador is going to be happy that you took his newest toy,” you panted with a giggle. The Doctor grins that oh-so-charming smile of his. 

“I don’t think I care. Do you?” 

Your exhausted grin splits wider.

“Not really,” you reply. 

“Good.”

[gracesimp]

Say It

tenth doctor x fem!reader

Warnings: smut. praise, edging, dom!doctor.

MINORS DNI

First time ever writing smut. oh god.

Summary: After feeling insecure about her body, (previous chubby!reader, but can be read by non-chubby reader I think), the Doctor shows Y/n just how much he loves it.

"Say it." He commands, voice thick. Y/n's mouth stays open as she looks up to the ceiling, her thick thighs wrapped around the Doctor as he thrusts into her pussy. "Now."

"I-I can't." She manages to cry out, eyes closing tightly as the knot in her belly tightens. The Doctor growls, digging his nails into her hips, the mixture of the spark of pain and pure pleasure making her clench around him.

"Be a good girl and say it." He grunts as his hips thrust harder and faster. Y/n moans loudly as he brushes against her clit with every push. The noise is probably enough to wake Rose from down the corridor, but if anything, that just motivates the Doctor more.

"Please, I-" She's on the verge of coming, and he knows, so he slows down.

"Say it!" He yells, his hips slowing to an almost stop, causing a whine of desperation and protest to leave Y/n's lips. "If you don't say it, I won't let you cum."

"Oh, my-" Y/n whimpers, her face heating as she shyly avoids his eyes. He removes one hand from her hip and forcefully turns her head to meet his.

"I'll stop." He threatens.

In an act of desperation as the feeling begins to dissipate with his halted movements, Y/n quickly mutters the words he had been demanding of her since the beginning. Since he kissed her neck, then her belly, then her thighs. When he mumbled while sucking her clit, to now as he demands her to say it as he pushes into her so deep. "I'm perfect."

To taunt her further, he leans down, still refusing to move his hips as his cock was buried in her soaking sex. "Couldn't hear you."

"I'm perfect!" She screams. Begs. He smirks, finally satisfied as he begins to move again, causing a gasp to leave both of their lips.

"That's it," He praises softly, giving her a quick kiss before resuming to his vigorous thrusting. "such a good girl. Well done, my angel. And you know what happens to good girls, don't you?" He teases, their skin slapping and headboard banging filling the room. "They get rewarded."

With that, he uses his fingers to rub her clit as he fucks her. She moans loudly, tits bouncing with every hard plunge of his cock deep into her. "Cum for me, angel." He whispers, the feeling of her clenching around him urging him to his own release. "Fuck, angel, cum for me, you can do it."

[shuichiakainx]

[simp-ly-writes]

For All Time

Paring: 10th Doctor x Fem! Time Lord!Reader

Summary: Many, Many worlds ago you were married to the Doctor. That was until a war tore your home planet and species apart and you were part of the lucky handful that managed to make your way out into the universe- alive. As you go through many regenerations of yourself, you run into the Master, an old friend of yours that you faintly remember. He tells you of the Doctor, warns you of your spouse and from then on, you are on a mission to never interact with him. Should be easy... right?

Warnings: 3300 words. Angst with no HEA. Themes of death. Depictions of Blood.

A/N: This is my first time writing for Doctor Who and I have only watched 12 hours worth of video essay's on the series. Please be kind and I hope you all enjoy~ :)

Masterlist | Taglist Request | edited.

You were terrified of time lords, the Doctor in particular and as to not be a hypocrite, you were scared of yourself- of everything you could fuck up for all time- that you already did fuck up for all time as the Master had already reported to you all those regenerations ago.

He told you of the horrors you made, the inconsequential decisions you thought to be just so now added up to a few hundred deaths on your hands as universe's threatened to collapse and the possible elimination of dozens of species painted your hands in guilt. Your finger nails pressing into your palms as you shook your head, trying to wring the statistics out of your head. But in the sliver of a smile, his dark eyes filled your thoughts as he placed a hand on your shoulder and leaned closer to your face, tears began to well up in your eyes.

You felt his breath on your neck as he brushed your hair away from your face, drinking up your tears while whispering in your ear, "But you haven't done the worst, love." He emits a small chuckle, his head knocking slighting against your own as you lean further back into the wall for support. "It is the Doctor that damned us all and yet we are the one's to be blamed, for everything, for all time, now and forever. He has killed millions, and nearly every little lover he calls companions he takes on his tyrannical adventures."

Your voice meek, throat clogged with tears as you sniffle for air, "I thought I was the only one, old friend... I thought that- that-"

"From what I know..." he cuts you off, taking a step back, allowing you room to breath as your legs give out from underneath yourself, your back falling against the wall before you are sat on the floor. Your fingers picking away at the grout between the tiles as you count the tiles of the room, doing your best to blink away the tears. "... its just the three of us and if I can offer you a tidbit of advice form one friend to another..."

He stand at full height, leaning down to lift your chin, that sliver now a toothy grin as his fingers dig into your cheeks, pressing your lips together, his eyes flash over to them before continuing his eye contact as you wince at the force he handles you with. "...continue to run away from us all." He drops your head, as if your skin burned his own and by the time you gain the momentum to look up once more, there are no traces he ever was here- he ever exist, a mere fragment of your imagination. You pick yourself up the floor and take his advice to heart.

--

So thats how you found yourself, sat underneath an umbrella in early spring within France. You and your Tardis concluded the time to be the mid two-thousands as you tried not to let the everlasting smell of piss on the streets keep you from enjoying an early brunch.

You watched as various tourists rolled themselves out onto the streets, snapping hundreds of pictures with their digital cameras, kids pointing at various things in storefronts, leading their parents chasing after them. A small smile casted upon your features as you listened to their little feet run across the cobbled streets, cheering loudly at the sweets in the window.

The Sun begins to peek out from between the clouds as you cast your gaze down to escape its shinning rays sneaking underneath your cover. Taking a sip of your now ice-cold coffee, you jolt in your seat, unaware that it was yourself who clattered the cup to the plate, trying to set your drink down. Dropping your shoulders down, your cheeks warm as the kids from earlier snap their heads towards the noise as you begin to pat your pants dry from the spilled coffee.

You swear lightly underneath your breath, your book-ruined and the liquid threatening to ruin your pants as well. Taking a napkin from the holder, you pat yourself down before opening the book in your lap, trying to air out the pages.

But soon the book and outfit become the last of your worries as your ear twitch to the familiar mechanical wizzing sound of what could only be a Tardis. Sweat instantly forms in your palms, your eyes dart around the streets, looking, watching, waiting for his arrival. You hate to admit that the panic holds yourself still, strapped to this very chair to witness the horror about to be unleashed yet all these humans appear none-the-wiser to their upcoming demise.

And when you think all those tears you shed were now buried away yet new ones burn your vision blurry as you grip the table in wait. What of the children, the families, the lives of them all? Your brain presses, kicking into hyperdrive, asking yourself if you are ready to die. But what will he do if he finds me? And your mind goes blank, incapable of thinking of what tortures you would endure.

So you present yourself human, plastering a fake smile, bright eyes as silent tears run rivers down your cheeks. Your breathing staggered just like your hearts, threatening to exit your body and make a life for themselves. It would be better to die, you convince yourself, the words echoing through your soul, it is better to die, die, die.

--

It feels like lifetimes move as you await his presence, eyes casting down the various alleyways, ears pointed for the sounds of agony and screams in his pleasure for universal domination. "He's killed millions," the Master's voice whispers into your ear with the breeze following by the sound of two beating hearts.

It was hard to miss the way your heart slowed, matching the breaths in between his own. His steps organized in the crowd surrounding him as a woman follows just behind his every step. His hair caught you first, its frazzled appearance as if he dragged his hands through the roots a few hundred times yet no stress coated his features, not a single wrinkle or crinkle besides a smile that has you loosening your grip on the table.

His direction leads him closer towards the coffee shop you sit in front of as a child runs across his front, stepping on one of his sneakers, an involuntary gasp escapes between your painted lips yet the Doctor takes no attention nor comment to them, simply continuing his way through the crowd. You hear his voice above all the afternoon commotion, his accent catching you off guard, "Say Donna, have you ever seen Paris or the South of France? I must say that this tower of theres is nothing in comparison to some of the future civilizations I've seen, I should, I will take you to one in the future or well, when we are done here."

The woman nods along to what he says, biting her lip, a knowing smile growing across her features as if she is cooking up a line to fire back, "Well the last time I was here was with you but we didn't really get to have a getaway besides running from those martians trying to KILL US! This is much better, oh!- did you see that woman's sandwich! How about lunch?"

Your eyes are wide as she tilts her head in your direction. You embody the appearance of a deer in headlights before swiftly unfolding the newspaper on the table, doing your best to read the various headlines with plausible interest.

The Doctor hums thoughtfully, looking to where Donna's eyes had landed, his eyes narrow in of the outrageously large paper that covers your face as he leans closer to Donna, "is that newspaper big, or is the woman just small?"

Donna laughs, knocking her shoulder with the Doctor as he shuffles back, head tipped down into a playful glare. "Well, spaceman. In comparison to you, anything appears larger than life."

"Do you want that sandwich or not?" The Doctor responds, eyes already bored and looking at the various other shops and people on the street, subconsciously looking for a threat to ruin the day.

"Well, yes-"

"Then lets get you that sandwich," and with that the Doctor is taking large strides up to your table. Curiosity brimming with excitement to uncover whoever was behind that paper. His heart rate began to climb, the walk now a light job as Donna wondered whatever has gotten into the Doctor.

--

You tense in preparation, saying your grievances underneath your breath as the man reaches forward, ripping the newspaper that had gradually been pressed closer to your face as he leaned closer to you. You pick up the book in your lap, spreading the pages wide open. Wincing once your fingers trace up the spine, finding a new crack upon its surface- that too is torn out of your hands.

In a childish effort- you close your eyes, hands racing across the tables surface before feeling the soft material of a serviette. Your plate clatters against the wooden table as you rip the cloth from underneath, waving it in the air to unfold it and subsequently into his face as he audibly complains. Swiftly opening your eyes, you look through the thin material, tracing over his blurry outline and hard-to-reach features while leaning back as far as your chair allows you too. Your feet hooking under the tables legs as only two chair legs hold you from toppling over.

The man huffs, his chair scraping against the pavement in a horrifying screech as your tableware clatters to the floor, bits and pieces of porcelain scraping across your leather shoes and socks. He peers over your napkin, eyebrow raised, brown-eyes peering to see your wide ones. You watch as his other eyebrow races to match the other, a small gasp escapes between his parting lips with fingers brushing against your own. He steals away the last of your cover, casting it aside to a nearby empty table.

The Doctor leans closer to listen to your hearts beating rapidly in your chest as he casts a hand down to feel his own. By the time he looks back up at you, a charming smile has one threatening to spread across your face but the Master's words make it fall the next moment as the Doctor gently clasps your hand between his own, taking the seat behind himself, pulling you forwards to sit level.

"Hello, darling," he whispers out, unsure if you are truly you as he awaits your answer. He squeezes your hand, ushering you to respond. You hate the way the pet-name makes you feel, the memories that flood your mind and all the time in between. A moment passes between you both before an approaching fiery-headed woman shifts your attention away from one another.

"DOCTOR? DOCTOR! What in the hells do you think you're doing?! Harassing this poor woman- oh I apologize dear, I have no idea what gotten into him today. I don't want that Sandwich in particular, just any sandwich!" Donna shouts out in the Doctors face. You wait for her to take him by the ear like a tired mom yet she smacks him on the back of his head as he drops your hand to ease the oncoming bruise.

With this distraction you quickly stand, throwing an unknown amount of currency on the table before darting down the crowded Paris streets. The Doctor curses underneath his breath lightly, "You don't understand, Donna!"

"What don't I understand? You going after some random human, is she a past companion or something?" Donna asks, eyes casting towards your empty seat that the Doctor glares at.

"Thats my wife!" The Doctor outbursts, grabbing your book and paper in hand before darting off after you, Donna running swiftly after the spaceman. "YOUR WHAT?!" Donna screams out between breaths.

"MY WIFE!"

"Don't you have five of those already?" She teases but the tone is peaked with genuine curiosity.

"Well yes- no. I don't know, they were the first!" The Doctor stumbles the words out, mind a fumbled mess at the sudden shock of you.

"The first, wait. Are they..." Donna's steps come to a halt as the Doctor casts his head back, steps slowing as they regain their breath, he hands your book and newspaper to Donna who holds onto the materials tightly. "...a time lord?"

"Yes..." the Doctor says in a remorseful tone. "....Yes, they are."

--

You lost where you last parked your Tardis as you turn down road after road, cars honking as you interrupt the traffic in your maddened dash. You keep your ears peaked for the two intruders to your centuries of peace. Your mind running a mile a minute for a plan that you assure yourself to be thinking of on the fly as you take another sharp turn, flying into someones arms.

They grip you still, smelling of aftershave and coffee with a dash of honey. You take in a deeper breath, curious to find the undertones before a chuckle has you pulling away, blinking rapidly as they hold onto your elbows and pull you into an empty shop under construction. You curse when seeing those familiar brown eyes, your hands drifting over the soft fabric of his jacket, feeling the small rips and seams before pulling away. Dusting your hands off on your pants, he moves his touch up to your shoulders, giving them a light shake.

"Why are you running, is there an emergency? A planet being overtaken, a universe about to explode?" He rattles off various answers for your selection yet you chose to remain silent. Ripping yourself away from his touch, you watch as his hands flex, itching to hold onto something, to someone, before he reaches into his jacket pocket as you do the same.

Two sonic screwdrivers are presented, shoving the glowing end into one another's presences. The door slams open and shut once more as Donna casts her arms wide and behind herself, blocking any potential escape. "Alright, lets gets things settled here, we don't need to me shoving our sonic screwdrivers at each other now!" Donna announces.

You wait for the Doctor to drop his first, eyes following as his hand open, his movements slow as he guides the technology back into his coat. He nods towards you, beckoning for you to do the same, your hands shake as you press it into your pant pocket for easier access. The Doctor raises a brow to this, looking back at Donna who's sights are set on you with pity.

The Doctor takes a step forwards, you shake your head, hands raised, your voice cracking, "You. Are. A. Monster! A Monster that has destroyed lives! You are in the midst of ruining another just now. If you would PLEASE just let me walk away I can promise you that I will do nothing- a personal moral of mine-"

The Doctors eyes gloss over, memories flash over himself. His arms feel heavy, shoulders slumping forwards as he remembers holding what he thought to be the second-to-last time lord in his arms, the Master as he died- unwilling to regenerate. "But here's the thing, I don't want to just 'let you walk away,' not with how I lost the last one- not when I am so close again to what could be," the Doctor pleads sincerity, his heart shattering at your words he knows a part to be true. But to hear them coming from who he surly believes to be you, it cuts him wounds him as you continuously step away from him as he nears.

The pain, the fear in your eyes, dictating your speech, he wishes to comfort you, hand raising to capture your outstretched one yet you quickly press your hands back into your chest. Right above your heart as it covering it for an attack. Donna sternly voices the Doctors name causing the man to pause in motion. Feet posed for another step, hand outstretched in a welcoming fashion, palm stretching outwards.

"Exactly. What COULD be. Couldn't have said it better myself, Doctor," you spit his name out, copying the Master's tone. "I'd say it even makes things easier on the both of us. Now please, let. me. go. Or better yet- kill me! Kill me right here, right now! I know you want to so just DO IT!" you scream out, words chocking on tears as you cough, hunching your form over. You feel so small, so hopeless as you look over to his companion, silently asking for her to convince him.

"No," the Doctor states firmly, hands now gripped into fists as he struggles to articulate his next words, looking over at Donna for support.

"Then I am sorry," you hush out softly before jumping up with all your strength as you cast a right hook across his nose. Blood pours over your knuckles as you fling your hand to remove the bodily fluid form your skin, making a mad dash towards the door.

You shout an apology to the human companion, having to shove 'Donna' you remember her name to be, out of the way and make your way back onto the streets. The Tardis had to be close, you think to yourself- the feeling in your gut starting to swell alongside your knuckles as you hissed through the pain, flinging yourself back towards your on-the-go home and pressing towards a random position. Pleading towards the console, anywhere but here, but now, with him- please.

--

"Wa-" The Doctor began to say before gripping his noise, casting his head upwards to try and stop the onslaught of blood. Tears cascaded down his features, creating a mess across his face as the liquids dropped down to his collard shirt and suit, staining the material for good.

Donna watched your escape through the window, you paid no mind to turn around, to take one last look no matter how hard your shoulders tensed or your neck tilted until you were out of sight. Shaking her head she walks over to the Doctor, reaching around in her pockets for a napkin as she presents the thin cloth to him.

The Doctor mumbles a thanks, beginning to wipe away at his face from his reflection in the glass. The air in the room is depleting as the Time Lord struggles to choke down air from the weight heaving in his chest. Donna rubs his back, watching as his back tenses before settling yet he refuses to look at her, only looking at the direction you fled in.

A few moments passes and the Doctor and Donna had yet to move form their positions, in a light tone, nervous to cut through the heavy silence too swiftly, Donna softly speaks, "You alright?"

The Doctor stands to full height, tissue dropping to the dirty floors beneath as he kicks away a loose bunch of screws. "I'm always alright." The Doctor nods- as if hyping himself up. He begins to make his way towards the door, looking back with a hand outstretched once more.

Donnas heartbreaks then and there as the spaceman smiles at her. She can see the pain in his eyes, the remnants of tears still in the corner of his eyes and the small sniffles he does his best to hide. She softly grasps his hand, giving it a squeeze. She listens to the breath he lets out shakily before leading them back out the door and in the opposite direction of you.

↳ A/N: what did you think? :)

[cloudrunnerscinnamon]

A short, slightly angsty Twelfth Doctor one shot - but don't worry, it's cute in the end :) 

Imagine you are traveling with the Doctor and at some point, after another ludicrous adventure, there are emotions demanding to be felt. What’s going to happen?

(picture not mine)

"Just Once"

„Do you trust me?“ the Doctor asked. His hands were firmly wrapped around your upper arms and he stared unblinkingly at you. 

„Yes, yes of course, yes of course I do,“ you stuttered, „ always!“

The Doctor heavily breathed out through his nose and cast his view down, head hanging for a second before it snapped back up. This irritated you. Why did he seem disappointed? Why did you get the feeling that the Time Lord actually wished to be rejected. Was it because of fear? Was he scared of the responsibility that came with the trust that others put in him? That you obviously put in him… But why did he ask then? You were puzzled which had to be showing on your face because the Doctor’s face grew a bit softer, a bit less pensive and he seemed to really look at you again. 

Then it dawned on you. He was asking for permission, which was also why he did hope you would deny him. Permission for what though? You had been running with this man for what felt like forever. Why did he need reassurance now? Now of all times? 

You both had just barely made it out of an underground city which had been flooded by an acidic river. Until the last second the Doctor and you had tried everything to reverse the polarity of the thick, clear liquid but to no avail. In the end you still had to flee, almost not making it. Both of your clothes were scorched from the acid. Your boots looked especially bad. The soles were almost completely gone. Shame really, you did love those minty Doc Martens. Now, thinking back you realized how close of a call this last adventure had been. Suddenly something „clicked“ and you understood. Naturally the Doctor would pick a time like this to inquire upon your faith. It weren’t just your emotions running high but the Time Lord’s too. You had almost lost each other. All over in a blink of an eye. Gone. Unceremoniously slurped up by some acid glibber-liquid-river-thing. Dissolved into nothingness. 

Panic rose in you, even more adrenalin rushing your system. Panic you should have felt minutes ago racing against a tide bellowing after you. But all that kicked in now.

„I could have died,“ you whispered to yourself eyes not really looking, your gaze going inward. 

„We could have died!“ You yelled and your voice rung in your own ears, harsh and loud. You slapped your hand over your mouth shocked by the enormity of your statement and a tremble went through your entire body. 

„Doctor,“ it sounded muffled against the palm of your hand. Tears sprang to your eyes, a familiar sting. Your throat felt very tight all of a sudden and then you couldn’t hold it back any longer. A heart-wrenching sob left your body. 

The Doctor’s own eyes didn’t hold tears but they still carried a heavy sadness. His hands moved a little, making a very small stroking motion up and down your arms and shoulders. Then he removed your hand from your face which was still covering your mouth. He kept holding onto it tightly. His long slim fingers folded themselves around yours and that pressure anchored you back down. Wordlessly the Doctor started to wipe away your tears. All the while he kept holding your gaze and you didn’t know if you could handle the intensity or the intimacy of his actions. When he finally spoke the Time Lord’s voice was rough with emotions. 

„But you didn’t. We didn’t.“ It almost sounded like he was only saying those words to make sure they were still holding up to reality.

The lump in your throat eased up a little. The Doctor’s hand on your face calmed you down and you leaned your head more into it. You let him take more of the weight that had been sitting heavy on you. Your eyes fell shut. His caress was blooming like a bright light in your mind and you relished all the attention he was giving you. How could those fingers be so soft and gentle when he hardly ever seeked out another one’s touch? How could he put so much comfort in one touch when he never let anyone be so kind with him? How could he be so gingerly when he would never allow himself to be treated the same? 

You feel is thumb running slowly over your cheekbone. Once, twice then you lose count, lost in the sensation. The Doctor’s hand that was still holding yours squeezed lightly, you could feel a tug. It pulled you out of your head, like a rope pulling you out from under the water. You broke the surface and your eyes flickered open again. There he was and his cross eyebrows – not so cross right now. „He is so close“, you thought. Had he been that close a minute ago? 

I am not a hugger. The Doctor’s voice echoed through your memories from a while back. Him uttering these words really had stung a lot. He had respectfully but also firmly peeled himself out off your embrace and gone back to fiddling about the Tardis’ console. Of course even back then you had known that the Doctor did not reciprocate your feelings for him. At least most definitely not the romantic ones. A friend, maybe even a best friend, something resembling family by choice – yes absolutely but not a lover, not that kind of love. So his comment about not being a hugger did not surprise you too much. Numerous times you had become firsthand witness to the Doctor and his awkward little dances to avoid physical contact with just about anyone. However it still shattered your fragile human heart. Secretly you had wished he would make an exception for you. Oh, how stupid of you to think that. Acid rivers wont kill me, you rebuked yourself,  but my naiveté and wishful thinking are going to be the death of me. 

No, the Time Lord really hadn’t been so close a moment ago and you were still certain that he wasn’t a hugger. So what was going on? His face was so close you could, for the first time, make out the little brown spots in the Doctor’s blueish-green eyes. It came with a bit of a surprise to you that you had never really thought about what color his eyes were. You just knew you always wanted to see them. Now that they had been unwaveringly on you for the last minutes you found yourself growing uneasy. The adrenalin, the panic, the close proximity to the Doctor and his strange behavior had you strung tight like a rubber-band about to snap. For a short time there was only breathing. It made you painfully self-aware, too loud, too heavy, too quick. Matching right up with the beating of your heart and you wondered if the Doctor’s two hearts were hammering away in his chest as well. You wanted to put your hand on his chest and feel, you needed to know. The craving was so strong you had to actively keep yourself from reaching out. There was no way you would invade his space like that even though he was practically pushing „his space“ onto yours by now. 

You were lost and so confused. For all you knew you too could have been holding a silent conversation judging by the staring contest but you had no clue what about. The Tardis translates pretty much any language in time and space, why doesn’t she speak grumpy, Scottish Time Lord and his many dialects just this once. A huffed laughter slips out between your lips and you loose eye contact with the Doctor for a second. This was getting ridiculous and frankly you were past waiting. 

„Doctor,“ with a swift movement you push his left hand off of your face and pull your hand free of his right.  

„What is going on, what do you want? What are we doing here, I don’t –“. And his hands snapped back in position this time both on your face, holding it lightly, effectively shutting you up. You were dumfounded, brain not braining. A sound, which could have been interpreted as something in the area of „Doctor?“ but that would have been reaching, left your mouth. The Time Lord looked at you, registering all your emotions. His lips were slightly parted and his eyes wandered all over your face like he was trying to create a blueprint for his memory. And then wondrously he stepped even closer. It could have been the dim lights in the Tardis’ hallway but you were sure the Doctor’s eyes darkened. His body was so close to yours that you felt the heat radiating off of him. You stayed perfectly still not sure what to think, feel or do. 

„I will do this once, because I just have to know.“ The Doctor whispered while bending down a little. His mouth was inches from yours and you could feel his hot breath on your lips. 

„I need,“ he pressed his eyes shut and your breath hitched in anticipation, was this really happening? 

„I need so see how it feels, I need to know if…“  He hesitated. The Time Lord opened his eyes again giving you a pleading look almost begging for help. You understood then that he was battling with himself. 

Almost losing you had made him realize how much you actually meant to him and he wanted to act on it. He wanted to show you but this would mean completely going against all his rules. He was the Doctor he couldn’t get too close, he needed to keep a safe distance – always. Otherwise the inevitable loss would tear him apart. But not knowing what it would feel like to just give in made him want to crawl out of his own skin. For once the Time Lord wanted to feel it all, the butterflies, the longing, the safety, the familiarity and all the sweet nullities because how could he deny his hearts when they were bound to feel the pain of parting eventually. 

You could see the ongoing struggle on the Doctor’s face.You wanted to help him badly but without taking the choice away from him. Knowing the Doctor meant to understand that he couldn’t be pushed. So you decided to simply repeat your statement from a few minutes ago. 

„Doctor,“ you mutter, “ I trust you, always.“

In an instant the Doctor’s mouth was on yours. His weight pushed you against the curved wall of the hallway. The cool metal, a harsh contrast to the warmth between you too. One of his hands brushed past your jawline, along your neck, up into your hair. The other fell down to your waist holding onto you. 

When you kissed it was a brush of soft lips. For all the need the Doctor had held right before kissing you, it was all but slow and tender now. Then the tip of his tongue nudged against your lips softly asking for more but it didn’t feel forward, it was rather sweet, almost shy. You opened your mouth and the Doctor deepened the kiss tentatively. 

Suddenly you could taste him. There was thunderstorm and starlight, vanilla ice cream mixed with the smoky bite of a good Scottish whisky and something else, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was glorious and you just melted into the Time Lord. Your bodies slotted against each other like they had always been intended to do just that and still he pulled you closer. Never letting go. There was heavy breathing and tiny noises but from whom you couldn’t tell. 

Did you stop breathing and just kept on kissing? You had no idea. 

Did said kiss last for two seconds or two hours? Still you had no clue. 

All too soon the kissing stopped and pathetically a whimper slipped out of you when you felt the Doctor pull away just a bit. It was not for long though. He proceeded to place wispy kisses all over your face and your knees turned all wobbly. You always knew the Doctor was a kind and sweet soul but you never imagined him to be so smooth and caring when it came to physical contact. That realization made your heart want to burst out of your chest. Could you love this man even more? 

The next time he reached your mouth he melted against it with a sigh. That sound robbed you of any restraint you might have still held and this time you passionately deepened the kiss. 

When the two of you came up out of the haze for air, the Doctor looked slightly disheveled and you couldn’t help yourself but it was just adorable. Tousled hair, red cheeks, whiffled eyes. 

You were still in his arms, you both didn’t seem to want to move. The Time Lord had never looked so openly and lovingly at you before. It felt like he wanted to make sure you understood that he was ready to let someone in. To let you in.

You smiled at him. Gently you ran your thumb over the Doctor’s cheek. He closed his eyes and a small smile was playing on his lips. 

And then suddenly, you had figured it out. 

„Oh, I know now,“ you said softly steeling one more chased peck on the lips from the Doctor to confirm your guess. He looked at you curiously.

„You know what?“ His voice low and husky. 

„Oranges.“ you exclaimed and leaned forward a little. Speaking while your lips touched his. 

„You taste like a loud thunderstorm and bright starlight, like vanilla ice cream doused with smoky whisky and fresh oranges.“ 

The Doctor laughed, burying his face in your neck and layering it with kisses. 

„I aim to please,“ he said and you both had to laugh at that. 

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Dream a little dream of me" - 11th Doctor x Reader

[TW: major character death, grief]

SUMMARY: When you, Doctor's love long gone, show up in the Dream Lord's reality, the decision becomes a lot harder for him to make.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 4k

based on 5x7, "Amy's choice"

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀 || Doctor Who-inspired playlist

It was only a glimpse - a piece of flowing, lilac material seen in the corner of his eye. Although it wasn’t much, hardly anything, it was enough. The Doctor’s thoughts rushed in the direction of you. Yes, he really liked how pastels looked on you. 

But it wasn’t you, obviously. It simply couldn’t have been. You didn’t buy ownership of the colour lilac, did you? It could have been anyone! Anything! A two-headed dog on a unicycle with a lilac party hat!

As much as he tried to reason himself out of this melancholy and “what ifs”, the notion lingered in the back of his head. Like an itch he couldn’t reach to scratch and so elected to ignore it. That didn’t mean the sensation suddenly disappeared.

"Right, so we had some sort of psychic episode." The Doctor seemed suspiciously calm while delivering that news as if it was hardly the first time it had happened to him.

"But how?" Amy dwelled on the subject. The experience was a little too strange and unsettling for her to simply let it go. "How can something like that happen?"

The Doctor shrugged slightly. "Well, there's a-"

Amy continued to stare at him with wide eyes but not a word left the Doctor's mouth. All colour left his face, his eyebrows became a little slanted in an expression of sadness and shock. Some melancholic cloud rendered his vision blank as though his mind had slipped into a world next door; he was remembering something he couldn’t bring himself to forget.

"Doctor?" she asked quietly but he wasn't listening to her. Not anymore.

"No," the Doctor whispered to himself. 

He began frantically looking for something. Whipping his head around, he was running from one corner of the room to the other, clearly searching or checking. The Doctor even knocked on different surfaces, restlessly listening to the echo of whatever was underneath.

“Where is this coming from?!” he shouted. “Where is it?!”

Neither Amy nor Rory had seen the time-traveller in such profound distress. They couldn’t even begin to guess what caused his sudden breakdown. Whatever it was, they silently agreed that it was not anything recent; no, this pain had been festering for decades, if not longer. Unattended, unaccepted, it had grown into something too grievous to be understood by those, who had not experienced it. Perhaps, seeing his change of demeanour, Amy and Rory didn’t want to empathize with the Doctor. What madness could such grief bring?

Both Amy and Rory watched the Doctor in confusion. As the ridiculous, frantic search kept going, the man only became more unstable. What began as denial has turned into a true frenzy; madness brought by something that kept eluding him. The Doctor was ignoring the couple’s questions and so they were planning on simply grabbing him to force the answer out of the man.

But then Rory noticed something - a detail that was as unmistakable as it was impossible.

"Can you hear it?" he asked Amy. "It's like... someone's singing."

The comment made the Doctor suddenly stop. He turned on his heel to face his companions. With pale skin and reddened eyes, he looked seriously ill. 

“So it’s not just me,” he said more to himself than anyone else. By the tone of his voice, it was hard to tell whether he considered this revelation positive or negative.

Among the whirring of engineering, a soft hum was audible. It sounded absentminded as if the enigmatic musician was preoccupied with something else and decided to sing to fill the overwhelming silence of the ship. For a moment, all three of them listened to the faint humming echoing throughout the emptiness of the TARDIS:

“Birds singing in the sycamore trees, dream a little dream of me.”

As though on command, a resounding birdsong forced them to sleep again.

The next time the three of them woke up in the TARDIS, their anxiety only multiplied. Neither of them could be sure which world belonged to fantasy and which to reality. Such lack of certainty of one's sanity, like a tree without roots, could only lead to madness and the death that always followed it.

"This could be a dream too!" Rory argued. Between the mundane and the fantasies closest to his heart, it was awfully hard to make up one’s mind. Especially if the outcome could prove unfavourable.

"But this feels real,” Amy continued. “I know I said it before but this time I mean it. Out of all the places, why would we be in Leadworth? It can’t be real.”

“Upper Leadworth,” he corrected her. As much as he tried, it was still quite obvious Amy’s question upset him. “And, well-”

“Examine everything!” The Doctor interjected the couple’s quarrel. If he was frenzied before, now he came off as paranoid. “Look for all the details that don’t ring true.”

“Like what?” Amelia asked.

The Doctor pressed his lips into a thin line. For an imperceptible second, his chin quivered.

“Like her,” he said as he pointed somewhere.

Confused, Amy and Rory followed the direction of the accusatory index finger. At its very end stood you - a stranger to them but painfully familiar to the Doctor. The lilac slip dress you were wearing seemed fitting for a vivid dream. Still leaning against the railing on the upper floor balcony, you gave the three a small wave. Out of everyone, you were the only one completely unbothered by the brain-racking scenario. Strangely enough, you must have been standing there for some time now and yet the couple noticed you only when the Doctor pointed you out - almost like it was he who was responsible for your appearance.

“What’s wrong with her?” Rory asked slowly. To him, you looked perfectly normal. Almost too normal, all things considered.

The Doctor suddenly began to tremble. He put his arm down only to nervously rub his hands together.

"She's dead," he whispered. The quietness of his voice makes the cracking and wavering almost inaudible. His eyes did not dare look towards his companions.“Has been for a while now.”

Despite answering his question, the Doctor didn’t quite satisfy Rory’s curiosity.

“Sorry, who is that?” he inquired further. “Or… was?”

“A long story,” the Doctor responded. Judging by the melancholy dripping from each of his words, he was using a diplomatic euphemism. “Ancient history actually,” he said in a forced cheerful voice as he looked at his friends. “Well, not literally ancient. Just someone from long ago. A lifetime ago, in a manner of speaking.”

Yes, he was a different man when he met you. When you died, he became someone else, too. Truthfully, he never stopped changing: as each new day separates him further from you, he continued to grow into a shell of who he once could have been. How strange this thought truly was, that he must remember you for longer than he had known you…

"Then this must be the dream,” Amy stated decisively. Whether it was the Doctor’s confession or the vision of a domestic, boring life, she seemed convinced. She couldn’t have actually chosen mundane, quiet Leadworth, could she?

But the Doctor isn’t quite as certain. In his mind, a complicated puzzle required an equally complicated solution.

"No, we're missing something,” he said. “It would be too easy."

What he really wanted to say was ‘it would be too easy for me to choose’. Never once in his life did a good thing come easy or free. Why should it now? Why should he suddenly have an opportunity to end this dull pain where his hearts used to be?

The Dream Lord’s reveal answered as many old questions as it posed new ones. Although ‘decide which one is real’ was just one objective, it was a highly complicated one. At least a thousand inquiries hid behind those five words; inquiries for which they didn’t have the time. The only thing they could be sure of is that the puzzle isn’t impossible - now, where would be fun in that? Except for that one fact, there was nothing that tethered them to their true lives.

Despite their jackets, Rory and Amy began to feel the gnawing cold. Space was cold, much colder than they could even imagine. With fear, confusion and desperation thrumming in their chests, the heatless atmosphere became something more profound. The shivering of their bodies only fed into anxiety; their mind and hearts were turning into stone.

The couple’s spat with the Doctor was cut short:

“You should get blankets,” you interjected. Strange, how the dead person’s voice is the last warm thing about the TARDIS. “It’s really cold in here.”

All things considered, you didn’t seem bothered by the drop in temperature. In fact, you appeared exactly as you did the last time they saw you. The lack of change makes Amy and Rory exchange a questioning look. Surely you must be proof that the life in Leadworth is the real one, right? 

“You’re dead, you can’t be cold,” the Doctor retorted, his voice laced with uncharacteristic indifference. For some reason, he didn’t even bother to look in your direction. A strange device of a hand-held whisk and a corkscrew was more interesting to him than his late lover.

“I didn’t say I was,” you answered. “You’re the one feeling cold, sweetheart.”

Your words made him suddenly turn around. He looked at you with squinted eyes, a symptom of suspicion. In slow steps, the Doctor made his way towards the balcony you were standing on. Should the circumstances be a little different, the scene would have befitted a romance novel - a lovesick gentleman coming to his lady’s home, too sick with longing to patiently wait for their next meeting. The events on the TARDIS, however, were more akin to a gothic horror.

The Dream Lord’s words rang in his head. ‘I’ve always been able to see through you, Doctor.’ 

Could it be? Could their captor be cruel enough to use your likeness to toy with him?

“How can you know what I’m feeling?” the Doctor probed. Unconsciously, he rubbed his hands together, giving away the bustle of his troubled mind. 

With a smile on your face, you answered him with a question: “Why do nightmares always know how to scare you?” 

“They’re not sentient, nightmares can’t exactly know anything,” he began. “When you’re dreaming, it’s basically like being in the eye of the storm but instead of the wind, it’s your own thoughts. The monsters in your nightmares scare you because they have access to everything you’re thinking about.” The Doctor fell silent for a second. Then, his shoulders slouched. A pale shadow of grief danced across his features as his eyes glazed over. “Oh,” he whispered under his breath. 

Perhaps the poets were right - the world did end with a sigh. Although, could it ever end if it never started in the first place? 

Still as chipper as ever, you clapped enthusiastically. “Very clever! Now go grab some blankets before all three of you dream of the North Pole.”

Then you giggled and it was possibly the worst thing you could have done. The Doctor’s chest momentarily tightened, his breath taken from him. Must you laugh exactly the way you did? Can’t you take pity on the man you’re haunting and not remind him of the treasures he can never possess again?

“Are you alright?” asked Amy. She knew it was a silly question considering the moment but couldn’t help herself. The Raggedy Doctor from her childhood stories looked like a shadow of a memory, a mare; he appeared closer to a husk, whose creator kept remembering they had forgotten to put inside some vital piece.

“Don’t worry about little old me,” he reassured her. The lie was in no way convincing. “Get some blankets, they should be right over there.” He pointed in the general direction of an alcove-turned-storage.

With the couple gone, the Doctor turned towards you once again. You were just standing there, hands resting against the railing. The soft adoration in your eyes tore at his hearts. He missed the way you looked at him but he knew that none of this was real. Not in the way he wanted it to be. If your appearance was Dream Lord’s doing, there would be nothing to curb the anger brewing inside the Doctor.

“Are you really here?” he asked quietly, lest Rory and Amy hear. “Or are you only a nightmare?”

Maybe calling you a ‘bad dream’ sounded awful at first but there was a lot of truth in that. He couldn’t fear losing you as it had already happened. However, it is even more terrifying to find what was once lost, while knowing it can be taken at any moment. Without miracles this time.

You leaned your body forward against the railing. “Define ‘real’ and ‘here’.”

“Are you Dream Lord’s doing?”

You cocked your head from side to side. “Yes and no.”

Multiple wrinkles creased his forehead as he furrowed his eyebrows. “It can’t be both, has to be one or the other.”

“Does it, though?” you asked. The tone of your voice made it sound like he just asked something stupid. “Did the Dream Lord create the dream of a couple settling down in an English village or did he just materialize someone’s existing dream?”

The Doctor pondered for a moment. He wanted a straightforward answer but it seemed like, even as a ghost, you knew him all too well - he always preferred to solve the puzzle on his own.

He moved his lips to ask you another question when Rory and Amy came back with blankets.

The Doctor woke up in a walk-in fridge at the butchers. The alien-pensioners kept banging on the solid, metal door. Somehow, he had to get out of there without turning into a pile of dirt. There had to a way…

He lifted his gaze and suddenly froze in place. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the temperature that rendered him immobile but something else stuck in the cold prison.

Someone else.

“Why are you here?” he asked. Seeing his dead lover drove him insane as did having to guess which world is the real one. But the late lover appearing in both realities? That could surely get him committed to some intergalactic hospital.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you answered. “A walk-in fridge is hardly a nice spot for a break.” A grimace entered your face as you looked around the room only to see various cuts of raw meat.

The Doctor quickly scrambled to his feet. Whether it was conscious or not, he fixed his hair and bowtie. Old habits die hard, as they say. Paradoxically, the strange situation emboldened him. The man crossed the room in strides. The last time he stood barely centimetres away from you was long ago. A lifetime ago, like he said earlier.

“Aside from me, Amy and Rory, you’re the only thing that appears both here and in the TARDIS,” he stated. His eyes bore into yours, continuously searching for something, a piece of information that would make this weird dream reality start making sense. “But you’re not real,” he said slightly quieter, as though more to himself than you. “So how does that work? What’s your purpose?”

The word ‘purpose’ fell from his lips like a spat of venom. He suspected that you played a sinister part in Dream Lord’s even more evil plan; like the creature in front of him could never be more than a dirty ruse.

“Remember your question about being the Dream Lord’s creation?” you asked. Although he continued staring at you, the Doctor gave you no indication of an answer. “He needs an idea, a dream, that he can base the alternate reality on. That’s what he meant when he said he can see right through you. He looked and saw me.”

Heavy banging on the door startled both of you. Even if you’re something of a fever dream, you did exactly the same gasp he’d heard you do over a thousand times. The accuracy was nothing short of maddening.

"But why are you here?” The Doctor gestured to the less-than-hospitable room you were standing in. “Why would he put you in both places? What's the trick?"

A sad, pitiful smile entered your face. Normally, he’d dismiss such a reaction from anyone. He didn’t want others’ pity. But some part of him craved it when it came from you. The grief she had shoved as deep as he possibly could suddenly came up to the surface. It begged to be seen, acknowledged; it pleaded for you to see your face in itself. It wanted you to see how much love remained that the Doctor could no longer give you.

"There's no trick,” you explained in a soft, low voice. “I was supposed to only be a distraction, an estranged lover found in some English village but you just couldn't help yourself, could you?"

"Me?” he said under his breath. The welled-up tears in his eyes threatened to spill at any moment. They slightly quivered along with the rest of his body. He looked sick. “What do you mean?"

"I'm in both realities because I’m in both hearts.” You poked his chest playfully. "I guess the Dream Lord underestimated just how much of me there is inside that pretty little head of yours. My image is seeping through.” Then, you started laughing at something. “You're dreaming a little dream of me,” you said between giggles.

Your skin felt surprisingly warm against his hand as the Doctor gently brushed your cheek. It was wrong in a sense - you had been long gone and dead people weren’t warm to the touch, they didn’t radiate life. Despite his age, experience and nature, he was only a man. A man with a broken heart at that. So there was no power in this universe or the next, that could stop him when the one he had been longing for was painfully close.

His throat tightened. “It’s my favourite dream,” he managed to croak out. The Doctor took a deep, slow breath. The loud banging grounded him slightly, reminding him of the current peril. He grabbed your shoulders in a firm yet loving hold. “But I still don’t understand how you can be here and in TARDIS,” he continued in a more-or-less normal tone. He managed to swallow his woe. For now. “One of them is real and if you are a dream brought to life, how can you exist outside of it?”

“Because I’m a memory,” you explained. It all seemed so obvious when you said it. “Rory’s dream is only a fantasy but I’m not. Dream Lord made me appear but you made me stay.” You tightly held the lapels of his jacket to accentuate your point. “I’m more vivid than a dream should be, so whatever he’s using to control you is not working properly. It can’t tell if I’m real or not.”

A vivid memory… was that really all you were? Could he be haunted not by a ghost but by the afterimage of a phantom? As rejoiced as his grieving heart was to see you, the truth about your appearance made the reunion all the more painful. In no way, shape or form were you standing there, holding onto him. He was simply imagining it. Of course you were a perfect copy of the way he remembered you, down to the moles and stray strands of hair.

Maybe one day he would realize the poeticness of the truth. At first, you were a dream brought to life to torment him. But then it was his love for you, his live memory, that made you something more - that made you almost human. And one day, perhaps the Doctor would realize that you had done the same to him, although not as literally.

"If you are Dream Lord’s creation,” he started thinking out loud, “you know what is real and what isn’t.” His warm, ever-gentle, trembling hands cupped your face once more. “Tell me, please,” he whispered. “Somewhere out there, Amy and Rory are about to die and I need to do something."

There was that look of pity again. Staring fondly at your lover, you carefully took his hands in yours and lowered them. For a moment, the time stood still. The metal banging sounded far away, nearly unreal; like a commotion heard in a dream.

"You know the answer already, dear,” you told him. The sincerity in your voice and in your eyes only worked as proof. “I told you."

He looked at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

The lullaby-like melody filled the fridge as you quietly hummed the old song. If the Doctor closed his eyes, he’d be able to see the scene like it was yesterday: you and him, a jazz club in Chicago, sometime in the 1950s. But his eyes remained open. He did not want to invite a dream of the past - not when it could be used against him.

"Stars shining bright above you," he whispered the lyrics. His voice suddenly broke and the Doctor frantically shook his head. "No, I can’t. If I get this right, you will be gone."

Was he actually considering that? Now he may earn that ‘madman’ title he had been after for so long.

Your arms wrapped around him in a tender embrace. The Doctor’s desperation and heartache seeped from his very soul as he held you tighter than he ever did. His hands clawed at the fabric of your lilac dress. It felt just as he remembered. Hot tears began rolling down your neck and shoulder. His entire body trembled as he fought for each shallow breath. The most feared man in the universe, undone by a smiling girl wearing a pastel slip dress.

"It's just a dream," you calmly reminded him. In a soothing gesture, you petted his head."It is real until the sunbeams find you and then it'll slip away like a speck of dust on a wind. You'll forget this. And when you fall asleep again, I'll be right here as if nothing had ever happened."

As much as you could, you leaned away from the Doctor. His fearful, teary eyes searched your face for any sign of trouble or a goodbye. He knew it was bound to happen but that didn’t comfort him, quite the contrary. The Time Lord was terrified of running out of time.

“You’re even more beautiful than the day I lost you,” he whispered.

Feeling your hands against his face, he allowed himself to close his eyes; to pretend for a moment. You tried to wipe away his tears but it was in vain. The longer he felt your presence, the more it broke his heart that it was just a memory. You weren’t really there, he was just an old, lovesick fool remembering what it felt like to be loved.

“But you didn’t really lose me, did you?” you asked. The question made the Doctor open his eyes. He looked at you, confused. “I’m burned into your memory. Forever laughing at your silly jokes, comforting you when you’re feeling down, giving hope when the world seems bleak. Always waiting for you to find me.”

Gently holding the sides of his head, you kissed his forehead.

"Don't go," he begged quietly but the ghost of you was already gone. He knew what he had to do. Somehow, the Doctor also had to find a way to convince Rory and Amy that the world in which they live a small-town happy life isn't real. Despite that, those two weren't the most difficult to convince: most of all, he had to convince himself to choose life over plummeting to his death by your side.

______

a/n: tbh I just went for finishing a half-done WIP to get the gears going and as it turned out I made this WIP in 2022, so a time-travel theme feels appropriate lmao. In other news, this is me trying to get back to fanfic writing. We'll see how it goes!

[hillsidecomics]

Peter Cushing as Dr. Who. Another one down for the updated Doctor Who print coming soon!

[badwolfrose34]

GitF Fix It Expansion(requesting ideas and advice)

I have recently learned that Moffat didn’t just bastardize Ten and Rose. He insulted Madame de Pompadour. Based on historical descriptions of her she was a “physically cold woman.” There’s more details but ultimately, she likely would not have appreciated being portrayed as a sex symbol.

Anyway, this led me to start working on a version of my nightmare fix it fic where the Doctor takes Rose to see what the real Madame de Pompadour is like. I welcome any input on details people might like to read in this expanded version. Only thing I’m dead set on doing is having the villain be a time agent with a fetish for Madame de Pompadour. I also want to use the sexist details in the GitF script as dialogue for him.

Other than that, I’m open ideas for the expanded version of my fic! I’ll link the one shot version for reference. I’ll the one shot as the first chapter of the expanded story. I will leave the one shot up as is for people who wish to headcanon the nightmare aspect but not the story where they visit 18th Century France the next day.

[vroomvroomwee]

2024 is here, and my brain is puddle, so I'm gonna let tumblr decide my fate for the day

[riversmithmelody]

hi! I read your Godfather series over on ao3 and absolutely adore it. I remember when you were posting, you mentioned making a family tree for all the cousins. Did you ever post it? I would love to see it, family trees are one of my favorite hobbies <3

Hi

sooo….I thought I did…apparently I didn’t…

So here you go the family tree of the (main) Smith family!

Little note the numbers next to some names on the colour fields indicate which Doctor that person is.

I hope this makes sense otherwise ask questions or reread the first chapter of „Christmas Reunion“ it’s more or less explained in there😂😅.

Thanks for asking and sorry that it took so long to answer my phone JUST notified me of this ask.

Love Raven

[ineffablemurderhusbands]

More fanfics by me! This time only Doctor Who edition.

This life's too good to last (12th Doctor and 13th Doctor talk)

Time is tearing itself apart and the Doctor finds out it's because her past self is trying to hold on to the time he has with his wife.

You had me at "archeology" (The Mummy AU)

"I need an archeologist.”

“I know where you can find one.”

“Really?”

“Yes, just go into town and ask for the Master. If he’s so inclined he’ll hook you up with an amazing archaeologist. But hurry up or you might end up without one.”

“Why is that?” Yaz asked, placing the money on the table as they all got up from their seats. “Another crew might hire her?”

“No.” Jack says with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “She might be executed.”

Coitus Interruptus (Rated E)

The Fam accidently walks in on the Doctor having sex.

Loud and Proud

The Doctor, Ryan, Graham and Yaz ends up in the middle of the San Francisco Pride Parade.

Please keep me sane!

The Doctor is afraid of turning into the "oncoming storm".

The TARDIS brings back the only person who can keep her in check.

Honestly, River just wants to get laid!

River keeps getting cockblocked and honestly she just wants to make love to her wife, is that too much to ask?

Of Potions and Spells (Hogwarts AU series) Fuck JK Rowling btw

Everybody on Hogwarts has a crush on the Slytherin Headmistress, River Song and the equally amazing Hufflepuff Headmistress, the Doctor.

Since they know they don't have a chance, they decide to bring them together by a series of elaborate plans.

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Perhaps It's Time (Doctor Who)

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: You think you're finally ready to have your cherry popped.

CW: virgin!reader, sort of implied smut, discussions around sex

Doctor Who Tag List: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr @midnight--raine (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

It’s not necessarily something you’d thought about a whole lot. You just assumed like most other people that you’d be ready when you were ready. It wasn’t for lack of interest, either. You’d had partners before, but you were younger then, and while conceptually the idea of sex was appealing- when it got down to it, you just weren’t ready. 

But that was then and this was now. 

You’d been travelling with the Doctor for at least a year. Probably longer, if you really stopped to think about it. The two of you had gotten together sometime around month six or seven, and you hadn’t looked back since. 

The Doctor was the best partner you could ask for. He took you on plenty of dates, made sure you had tasty things to eat, gave you cuddles whenever he could, and was very respectful of all your wishes and boundaries. 

He’d never so much as laid a hand on your thigh with sexual intentions. And yes, while this was good at the beginning of your relationship, you were finding yourself growing more frustrated by the day with his lack of instigation. 

“Hey, uh, Doctor?” You ask him, surprising yourself as the words slip past your mouth. The being in question turned towards you, a stick of red liquorice hanging out of his mouth. He hummed as an invitation for you to go on. “How come you haven’t- uh, how come we haven’t… you know.” 

The Doctor’s brows furrow in confusion, and he removes the liquorice from his mouth, clearly resisting the urge to play with it. 

“Oh, erm- haven’t really thought about it,” he replies, making the short trip over to stand before you. “That’s not me saying I don’t want to. I want to. Oh yes, I want to.” This is the first time you’ve noticed that lustful gleam in his eye, the colour darkening just a shade as he looks you over hungrily. 

Your cheeks flush a shade darker. Just enough to be noticed. Your eyes are trained on his lips and the way he licks them as though he’s thinking about all the ways he could make you come undone with his mouth alone. Let’s be real, though, it wasn’t like you hadn’t been thinking about that since you got together either. 

“So why haven’t we?” You ask breathily. The Doctor crowds you up against the console of the TARDIS, getting as close as he can without making you uncomfortable (as if he ever could). He gives you enough room to move out and away if you need to. Always so considerate of your feelings, the Doctor was. 

“Well,” he replies, brushing a finger down your cheek softly. “Thought you weren’t ready. ‘Sides, I don’t mind waiting. I’m here for you, and you can take as long as you need to. I’m not going anywhere, am I?” 

The change in tone from dark and lustful to soft and caring almost gives you whiplash, but you also appreciate it. How could you ever fall for anyone else? Answer, you couldn’t. Maybe you’d never had your cherry popped because you were simply waiting for the Doctor.

“I think I’m ready,” you say, biting at your lip. The Doctor grins, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. He pulls away and kisses you hard on the mouth. His lips still taste of liquorice and you melt against him. 

“I- I don’t want to right now,” you add dazedly when he gives you space to breathe. You’re flushed from head to toe, heart swelling with happiness. “But I’m ready, I think. For when we want to.” And when you have the time. That prerequisite was also pretty important for something like this. 

“I don’t need it to be special, just- when it happens it happens.” 

The Doctor winked, sticking his red liquorice back into his mouth with a wide grin. 

“Sounds spontaneous. I like it.” 

You bet he does.

[gracesimp]

hard agree on the chubby reader sentiment. i think the doctor in general (any regeneration) has a soft spot for a chubby sweetheart.

sending love and support from one chubby person to another! keep writing! <3

Through my eyes.

tenth doctor x fem!reader (chubby, curvy).

Warnings: sexual content implied but sfw!

Summary: Reader feels insecure about her body. The Doctor will not allow that.

"Look at me." He said, his voice soothing and sweet like caramel.

Y/n grumbles, her hair falling into her eyes as she shakes her head, mumbling a quiet no.

"Y/n, look at me." The Doctor's voice was edging on demanding. His fingers moved to grip her chin and move her face to look at him. "Say that again."

A little pout was on Y/n's lips as her eyes look down to the bed they were sat on. "I just...don't understand." She admits in a tiny voice. "I mean, look at Rose, then look at me-"

"I don't want Rose." He cuts off quickly, shifting on the bed so he's hovering over Y/n, gently pushing her back. "You're who I want. Who I need." His voice deepens as his lips brush against Y/n's. "Who I desire."

With a soft sigh, Y/n turns her head so their lips don't get the chance to meet. "But look at me." She near enough scoffs, her hands gesturing to her chubby, curvy body. "It just doesn't make sense. How could someone like you possibly want someone like me?"

The Doctor's face darkens, and his eyes begin to squint a little as he stares at her. "Stop it." He growls, using his hands to pin her wrists above her head. Y/n whimpers softy and huffs, but doesn't object nor make any attempt to be released. "Stop talking about yourself like that. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes 'cause-" he cuts himself off now, moving closer so their bodies press together. Y/n pants and her hips jolt up despite herself, a light pink spreading across her cheeks. "Do you feel that?" He continues, voice still dark but with a softness he reserves only for her. "Do you feel how much I need you? How much I want you?"

Shyly, Y/n's head bobs up and down.

With a chuckle, the Doctor shakes his own head. "No, I don't think you do." He presses his lips to her neck, sucking lightly. Y/n allows quiet gasps of pleasure to leave her mouth as she tilts her neck to the side, allowing him more access. But the Doctor quickly removes his lips. "So I'm gonna show you."

[arajasegaran]

bubble

The bubble wrap monsters on Doctor Who will never cease to delight me.

[simp-ly-writes]

Teaser: For All Time (pt.2)

Title: Promises of Forever

Pairing: 10th Doctor x Fem! Time Lord!Reader, OC x Reader

Summary: On the run from the Doctor, your old spouse. You find yourself running into the arms of another yet what you both have yet to discover it that the plays of your heart and mind are from another. What will make of you all then?

Warnings: Scenes of jealousy, protectiveness, and potential manipulation.

A/N: To-be-posted this upcoming Thursday.

Masterlist | Taglist Request | edited.

FULL VERSION

"Oi!" the doctor shouted, finger pointed at your back as Donna was still running after him. "Who the hell are you and what are you doing with my wife-"

"Your wife?" Jack coldly stated back in threatening question. He dropped his touch from you, walking over to tower over the Doctor- breaths shallow with rage. You still had your back to the scene, you listened to insult after insult before turning around, headache starting to form as Donna screeched at both men.

"School-children the lot of you!" Donna added to the growing fire, finger wagging in both their faces as you moved to stand beside her with your hands on your hips.

"Hello, darling," The Doctor greeted you with a wink, "I must say, you really do have a good right hook- have to teach me sometime," his hand outstretched, fingers waggling for you to take as if nothing had happened. Shaking your head with a scoff, the Doctor slowly moves his hand to behind his neck, whispering something to Donna before she smacks his straight against the back of his head.

You notice how his brown hair is tousled, as if running his hands through the strands a hundred times, pulling at the roots to find solutions to all his problems. Aftershave, coffee, and honey flood your senses once more being broken by sandalwood and earthy tones, Jack stands at your side, eyes asking to make an escape yet you can't move your legs. Stuck in place by the Doctors flushed cheeks and bright eyes as he sounds out Donna, rolling up his sleeves while looking at you- fighting off a smile.

↳ A/N: Hope to see you all then!

[cloudrunnerscinnamon]

I guess I am back ...

(gif not mine)

Took me a while but here I am again writing fanfiction and fuck me that feels good!

So since I haven't written anything in quite some time – please be gentle. :) It is not perfect but it is a start. Here it goes. Enjoy!

Short, little something about the 12th Doctor and his travel companion. It is very fluffy. What I would imagine to be an almost „normal“ day in the Tardis.

The usual banter

„Well then stop complaining and just read it to me.“ (Y/N) said while she was walking through the many hallways of the Tardis holding a book in her hands. She was on her way to a more comfortable place to rest. She had spent the last half an hour reading, sitting on one of the chairs in the Tardis main console room. However her back had started to ache and she really did want to snuggle in under a blanket now. 

„When you were sitting on the chair I could at least pretend that you were listening to me being all clever. If you go away I got no one to be clever for.“

The Doctor trotted grumpily behind his friend inclined to follower her until he eventually would persuade her to return back to the console room. 

„Oh you poor thing you,“ (Y/N) twirled around while still walking and gave the doctor a puppy dog lock. Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on him at all. 

„I know you just want my attention because you are incapable of enjoying some down time. But I am not - so please just let me read my book in peace and finde someone else to impress.“ Continuing on in her path, (Y/N) heard the Doctor huffing out a loud breath. She smiled to herself. This was them having a good time. Simple, friendly banter mixed with a bit of truth and a piece of spite. 

„What are you reading anyways?“ The Time Lord inquired even though he already knew what (Y/N) was reading. 

He had checked out the title the minute the woman had picked up the book. He had only kept up his monologue about quantum physics and why it should be taught in Kindergarden to make sure she did not realize he was actually just paying attention to her. His mouth had been on auto pilot doing its own thing. Flushing out knowledge which sounded reasonable enough to not make (Y/N) suspicious. The Doctor’s eyes though were roaming over his friend. They had drunk in every detail about her. She had been sitting a little hunched forward, cross-legged on a console room chair and the Doctor knew her neck would hurt later. 

How she delicately held the book, absently running her index finger over the spine. Every other minute one of her hands would pull back a stray strand of hair which had fallen into her vision for the what seemed like the hundredth time. He smiled softly angling his head down a little, turning to the side just a bit so he wouldn’t give himself away. (Y/N)’s expressions were what captured him the most. She could run through so many facial expressions in seconds while reading and she didn’t even know it. 

After The Doctor and (Y/N) had started to travel together he had soon learned that she was an adamant reader. Always carrying a book with her which in fact had come in more handy than he could have thought. Soon he had revealed to her the big library the Tardis had to offer and she had spent countless hours in there since then. 

So to be honest the Doctor adored how much (Y/N) loved reading and was utterly stunned how much happiness it invoked in her. It made him feel like he could also maybe finde simple things that made him happy. It gave him hope and comfort. Nevertheless he would never admit this out loud. The teasing, the raillery and how they would always end up sitting together reading, talking about it, shushing each other when they wanted to make a point. He loved it, he loved her - which was a secret and something he pushed deep down, well away, avoiding the whole subject. 

To answer his question (Y/N) just held the book up over her shoulder. 

„You have read this one at least 3 times!“ The thick Scottish accent of this Doctor’s incarnation couldn’t possibly be more prominent. When he continued (Y/N) had to close her eyes for a second. She would never be able to un-hear that low dark rumble of a voice and it gave her the shivers - the good ones. 

„How can you read that again, it’s not getting any better. Wasn’t really good to begin with and—“

„5 times, I read it 5 times and it’s my favorite so don’t mock it you old grump.“ She said with a twinkle. Another huff from behind her and then she had reached the door to her room. 

The door slide upwards with a silent, swift movement and (Y/N) entered her room. 

It was a while back, when on a whim the Doctor had decided that it was time to give (Y/N) her own room. She had been traveling with him for well over a year and even though the Tardis was good at providing the woman with everything she needed when ever she went looking for it, the Time Lord really wanted to extinguish the thought of her just being a guest. So in addition to a key for the Tardis (Y/N) also had gotten a room. 

It was in itself a relatively large space however a comfortable king-sized bed, a dark green corduroy couch, several shelves filled with books and other stuff, as well as an antique wooden desk and a well-worn armchair made it look very cozy. Somehow the Tardis had managed to build in a big round window which was laid in deep enough so one could sit on the sill and marvel at the stars. A wooden stool was placed under it for better reach and the nook was set up with different sized cushions and blankets. There was no harsh light source, the whole room was illuminated by tiny fairy lights and garlands (Y/N) had hung in different corners and on the ceiling. Over time some of her drawings, keepsakes and other things had made its way onto the walls. There was a small bouquet of flowers, dried now put still carefully placed into a vase upon a small table next to the arm chair. Flowers (Y/N) had collected during one of the many adventures with the Doctor. In a corner by the bed was an old chair, layers of cloth made it almost invisible. Some of them had slit down onto a fluffy large rug. Somehow all of this captured so much of (Y/N)’s character and the space truly had become hers. It filled the Doctor with joy every time he noticed. 

When (Y/N) had just started staying in her own room the Doctor made a point to not enter it. He didn’t want to seem intrusive or else overstepping boundaries so he simply avoided the space all together. But as time passed those boundaries got pushed around and eventually evaporated. It appeared to be that neither the Doctor nor (Y/N) really minded the other in their rooms. Which is why, without hesitation, the Time Lord followed his friend inside. 

(Y/N) went straight for the big couch and crawled onto the shorter side of the L shape. Here she could finally rest her back comfortably against the big cushions and cover herself with that large blanket she had been craving. A happy sigh slipped over her lips and the plain words of her book started to take colorful form in her head. It could have been perfect but a few seconds in and (Y/N) had to avert her gaze from those pages just to see a rather cross Time Lord standing in front of her. His head was tilted to the side and he wore a what you could call a question-mark-expression on his face. It did nothing for him combined with his constantly peeved eyebrows but (Y/N) still smiled and sat up a little more. 

„You are not, you are really not?“ Lost for words, the Doctor in his bewilderment gestured between the room and the door, his hands flying around. 

„You are really going to just sit here and read that book?“ The Doctor pointed at the book as if he was trying to stab it. (Y/N) knew that the Doctor in fact did have a hard time wrapping his head around the concept of just doing nothing or at least not achieving anything, albeit one could argue reading was a great achievement. So she understood, some of this was show, familiarity, daily life with each other but still there was a little truth hidden in the Doctor’s words. He needed her to keep out the loneliness, the dark thoughts and perhaps even memories. The Doctor’s mind was much easier to carry when it was occupied. And most days (Y/N) was happy to oblige. She loved being his companion. One adventure after another, long sleepless nights and so many stories he could tell but some days she simply needed to rest. Catch her breath in someway. „Hey did you just silently insult my book with your finger. Cos I saw that!“ (Y/N) chuckled and rolled her eyes in a fake annoyed manner. She defensively covered the book with her hands mocking him. The Doctor drew in a breath and put his hands on his sides revealing the red lining of his long coat. His signature move, (Y/N) thought and she had to laugh at that. He really was a child sometimes, stomping his feet. 

„Come on now Doc. You have three options here,“ her thumb went up to indicate the different alternatives. 

„Number one: you can either sit down and be quiet,“ second finger joined, „ number two: you can go away do what ever the hell you want or,“ third finger rose, „ number three: and this is my preferred option, you can sit down, snuggle in and read the book to me.“ (Y/N) wiggled her fingers at the Time Lord and shrugged. 

„Your pick.“

To the Doctor there really weren’t three options here, all he truly wanted was to be close to (Y/N). She calmed him, he had figured that out awhile back after they had been traveling together for only a few weeks. Everything around him usually carried some kind of intensity, pressure and he had a tough time ridding himself off that even in the comfort of his Tardis. (Y/N) took that away, she was like a constant that fixed something in him. At first he wasn’t able to accept that. It felt weird to the Doctor that somebody else had such an impact on him but after a while he recognized it as something special. With her around there was no need to go on and keep digging, to keep finding but he never told her that. Old habits die hard and he wasn’t ready to share that knowledge yet. After all he was the Doctor who kept running right? 

Nevertheless (Y/N) did notice that the way the Doctor treated her differed a little from how he carried himself with others. She put it off to all the countless hours they had spent together and them simply being comfortable around each other. Just friends. 

The Doctor grumbled something under his breath and kept lingering in the middle of the room. 

„What was that?“, she asked. Instead of an answer the Doctor took a few long strides towards the Couch. Before (Y/N) could do anything the book was snatched from her hands and with a thud the Doctor plopped down right next to her. He pushed his shoes off putting his feet up and under his companion’s blanket. His left arm came down around (Y/N)’s shoulders and he opened the book at the latest dog-ear. 

„You really have got to stop doing that.“ The Doctor nodded towards the book. „Dog-ears are just horrendous especially for the next reader.“ 

„If you wouldn’t interrupt me so often there’d hardly be any.“ (Y/N) tried to sound offended but she couldn’t hide the smile forming on her lips. She grabbed the Doctor’s hand that was resting on her left arm and squeezed it lightly. His fingers involuntarily interlaced with hers right away and his thumb caressed the back of her hand. This was sweet and surprising. They had been sitting close together before but as of late more often. However it normally didn’t go further than their bodies touching side by side. 

The atmosphere had suddenly changed. The moment came and went and still they were just sitting there quietly, waiting maybe. (Y/N) moved first. She scooted down a little so she could lean more into the Doctor and was able to rest the back of her head on his chest. (Y/N) could feel the rise and the fall of the Time Lord’s breath. Were those thumps his hearts? She couldn’t be sure because her own heart was beating wildly. The Doctor drew in a long breath, he wanted to start reading. As much as he was enjoying the close proximity to (Y/N) he was also scared to give away how much it actually moved him. Reading would at least draw some of his braincells in another direction. He closed his eyes for a second to compose himself, how could he be so nervous? He was The Doctor, the oncoming storm, bringer of darkness and –.  And in the face of feelings remotely in the vicinity of romance he still basically was just a school boy with a crush, tongue tide and clumsy hands. Sensing that the Doctor was hesitating for some reason, (Y/N) turned around a little and peeked up at the Doctor. The look she saw in his eyes startled her. She had seen that kindness and calm before all though hardly ever as unfiltered as it was right then. Yet (Y/N) got a scarce view of something else and it confused her immensely. What was that? (Y/N) let go of the Doctor’s hand and without thinking about it she very softly ran a finger along his face. She started at his hairline slowly tracing it down to his cheekbone, continuing on until she reached the corner of his mouth, drawing a half circle down upon his chin. And before she even realized what she had just done her hand dropped back down lying flat on the Doctor’s chest. 

„I,“ (Y/N)’s voice came out a little raspy and she had to swallow to clear her throat. 

„I thought, I thought I saw, there was something, I…“ She shook her head. 

„Sorry I didn’t mean to just –. How rude of me!“ (Y/N) gained her bearings back and was suddenly very aware of what she had just done. Her face grew red and she felt stupid.

If the Doctor hadn’t been holding his breath before he sure as hell was now. The way she had run her finger down his face and had looked at him while doing so made him speechless. Second time he was lost for words in mere minutes, that’s an accomplishment. All the carefully stored away feelings he harbored for his travel companion came rushing out trying to finally overwhelm him. Well and that was that. It was over, there was no denying it anymore. After all that time and all those rules he put upon himself something just snapped. Fine, here we go then, the Doctor thought. Wrapped up in this huge aha-experience of his, (Y/N) begun to wiggle her way out of there close sitting positions. She didn’t dare look at the Doctor and just wanted to get away. Shocked by the unexpected loss of contact the Doctor panicked a little and dropped the book on the couch He quickly took a hold of (Y/N)s hands. She halted in her movement. Without saying anything the Doctor tucked a little. What he really meant to say was ‚please don’t leave, everything is good. Stay here - with me.‘ but all he managed, owed to his utter lack of being able to say what he really feels, was: 

„Where are you going?“ His voice was soft, no trace of insistence. Silence. They looked at each other. The Doctor didn’t want this to go south, he wanted to save this situation make it go back to where they had been moments ago.Where was time traveling when one really needed it. When (Y/N) clearly wasn’t going to say anything, worse it looked like she still wanted to flee. The Doctor chose to go for chatter. Comfort lies in the known and chatting each others ears off – they knew. 

„So you touched my face, no big deal. Isn’t like you haven’t done that before is it?“ The Doctor tried to sound normal, relaxed even.

„I mean I get it, I am a sight to behold.“ He wiggled his eyebrows and made an upward motion with his hand, flipping long strands of hair around he clearly didn’t have. 

This was funny in itself because this particular regeneration of the Doctor really didn’t think himself handsome or good looking in any way. It had never bothered him too much. However since he felt more and more drawn to (Y/N) in a romantic manner he kind of wished he still was that young, springy, bow-tie version or even the sand-shoed one. 

Finally a small smile on (Y/N)’s lips. Her shoulders relaxed a little too. Just one more for good measure then, the Doctor thought, and we should be reading in no time. 

„Now I haven’t got all day. Do you want me to read this to you or would you rather prefer to map out more of my frowning lines?“ Almost back to her quick-witted self (Y/N) opened her mouth to respond but the Time Lord cut right in. 

„Oh and no I am not doing voices. The last time I did that I had slightly too much red wine and you had broken your fragile human wrist.“ He glared at her one more time smirking and picked the book back up. (Y/N) was moving back into the position she had just left so hasty and slapped the Doctor on his knee. 

„As long as I don’t have to hear anything about quantum physics for the next few weeks I take what I can get, you grouch.“ The Doctor scoffed, giving her a disbelieving look. „I have, you know, on good authority that some people would commit murder to her me lecture about –“ This time (Y/N) went right over the Doctor’s words. 

„Shhh, less talking more reading.“ With that (Y/N) fully leaned back and placed her head on the Doctor’s hearts once more. The Time Lord smiled to himself. When he started to read his thick Scottish accent filled the room, he knew she loved it.