#i wonder if birds feel something like a brewing wanderlust as the time comes

[stormofdefiance]

An incredibly lazy wee doodle of barn swallows since I'm struggling to sleep and going back to my teenage ritual of drawing birds far too late into the night. Where I live, it will soon be time for the swallows to leave and make their bi-annual 8000 mile migration all the way to South Africa. Summer goes with them, and already my late North European nights seem to be turning dark so soon. A couple of months ago the night would just be a muted blue until dawn would crack with a skylark's song at 3am, and from now it will just be a couple of months until the black sets in before the afternoon ends.

It genuinely makes me want to cry thinking about these matchbox sized little beings throwing themselves into that endless blue all in pursuit of airborne insects, those small bodies making their way over the widening, waterless Sahara, that 40 day excursion that, by mid-October, will be over. How long a journey that seems, how short for a being smaller than my hand.

I'll miss them as much as I'll miss the sun until my late-March birthday comes along again and the spring sky is briefly interrupted by their sudden return, their tumbling bodies celebrating the world waking up again, back - somehow, dare I project a sense of sentiment, remembering - to the very same nests they'd left behind just months ago.

[lovelyfictional-imagines]

Coffee. (Twelfth Doctor x Reader)

I may or may not have based this solely off of how I make my coffee in the morning. You can’t prove it.

I wrote this a few days ago, my fingers were just off and I’m quite happy with it. I’ll probably end up editing it hundreds of times before I’m remotely content with it. Part of what inspired me is Move Together by James Bay, despite it not having anything to do with it.

I like the idea of Twelve being soft on the human. I also have another in my drafts describing her flat, and it hits home. Twelve is definitely my top favorite Doctor, I’m sorry about the spam, I hope my Four and Bill fics broke the monotony.

Not much to really say about this one. Another Four will be coming soon, though! As always, I hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcome!

Until next fic,

- Ashley

Word Count: 1231

The Doctor had actually slept, spent a bit longer than his usual cat nap on his companion’s couch. It was more comfortable than it looked, as he felt properly refreshed. At least more refreshed than before. Looking around the small living room, he watched the sun begin to slip into the room, barely seen.

Normally resolute eyes seemed to melt into something more affectionate upon seeing his companion. (Y/N) was balled into her large, pea green armchair, (S/C) legs draped over the arm, covered entirely by a large quilt. Black fabric was balled up and tucked tightly into her arms. Recalling her saying she was going to bed and then vanishing into her bedroom, he was confused as to why she was there of all places.

“Must’ve been a result of a night terror, or something of the like.” He mumbled beneath his breath, careful not to wake her. Up he went as he observed more light make its way into the room. Pale yellow walls met white countertops, basic in design but optimal in practicality in her rarely used kitchen. Beneath the counters, tucked away in cabinets were barely used utilities that he rummaged through, looking for one particular piece of kitchenware.

“Mr. Coffee? Sounds about right.”

Emerging from the cabinet, miniature black coffee maker in hand, he placed it on the counter with a grimace. He set to work, grabbing filters and coffee grounds and sugar jars. Quickly the pot was filled with water, grounds carefully measured, and the maker was started. At least, to the best of his abilities it was.

The Doctor leaned against the counter, watching London below begin to stir. Cars were being started, cabs were being hailed, and people began to file out of their respective apartment complexes and onto the sidewalk, briefcases in hand. A certain feeling of contentment filled him as he knew he’d never be a part of it. Another feeling of wonder followed for the same reason.

How simple humans could be. Many had quite obvious aspirations, like to build a home or family, or to seek monetary fulfillment. Others he found were more like his dear (Y/N), who wasn’t completely content with the humdrum of day-to-day life. She took pleasure in small domestic activities, such as brewing coffee or sitting in to read, instead of joining boisterous colleagues at a pub. But she found gratification in these undemanding tasks in the TARDIS, off in another time and away from her Earth.

The Doctor took great pride in all of his companions, especially those similar to her. Wanderlust seemingly thrummed in her veins, she always wanted more, to see more, hear more, experience more. Homey habits were cast aside to run alongside him, to never slow down. Until they had to.

Just like now, as he stood in her kitchen preparing a massive cup of coffee for her, is a time they had to stop. Small flats with just enough space for the TARDIS seemed to be ideal for her when she needed time to recuperate from never ending adventures. Not that the Doctor minded much. Much.

A bit of him enjoyed the domesticated portions of their time together, feeling as if the universe has removed her prying eyes for a moment to allow them respite. Seeing his companion—friend, he should call her—resting, comfortable, and most importantly safe, brought him more peace and genuine happiness than saving entire worlds’ worth of people.

The telltale thumping of coffee spewing from the maker had stopped, signaling its end. He poured the steaming liquid into her enormous mug, and began spooning in large lumps of sugar. Scoops of cream followed until the color had gone from one shade to the next, from as black as night to ivory-colored silk. Shaking his head, he released a dramatic sigh.

“I’m getting soft, too soft on this girl, too soft for this... this human..”

Despite his monologue, he carefully took the mug in hand and walked it into the living room. Positions of the hands on the clock indicated it was nearing dawn, and he knew she’d be up soon. She never rested enough, even with his constant “harping”, as she’d lovingly deemed it, for her to sleep more, but he couldn’t change it. Couldn’t speak out too much against her insomniac tendencies, when he slept for an hour or two at a time himself, even if it was all he needed.

Hushed yawns erupted from the lump on the armchair, and the Doctor couldn’t resist the tranquil smile that spread across his features. Small hands extended out, quiet pops indicated her stretching. Making his way round to see her, he held the porcelain cup carefully. Heavy circles still remained beneath her (light/dark) eyes, though alleviated somewhat. A sleepy smile stretched her lips, though.

“Good morning sleeping beauty! Time to get up and going, today’s bad decisions aren’t going to make themselves!” The Doctor knelt down to be level with her own face. A groan tumbled from her mouth, and she twisted to face the back of the chair.

“It’s too early.”

“I am quite aware, but we both know you’re not going back to sleep now.”

“I might.”

“(Y/N).”

“Alright, alright. You enjoy being right at all times, even this early, huh?”

“It’s never too early to be right, now come on.”

With that, she maneuvered into a sitting position, rubbing her eyes as the black fabric she’d previously been clutching fell to the floor. The Doctor replaced it with the cup, and received a grateful smile in return. Remaining in his crouched position, he watched her throat as she drank. Hypnotizing, almost, the way it rose and fell with each gulp.

“Ready to go? I’ve already got our next journey planned, we can pop right over into the—“

“Doctor! Wait! What’s the rush? Late for the early bird special? Bingo already started?”

The Doctor fixed her with an intense glare, causing her to snort and put her glass down onto the end table in front of her.

“I’m teasing, I’m teasing! Don’t get your unders in a twist. I’m just saying, I’ve some laundry to do, I need a bit of time. Then we can go. Okay?”

Hmmphing in mock contempt, he crossed his arms. “Fine. But don’t take too long.”

Victorious again, (Y/N) broke into a grin. “Thank you, Doctor. I won’t be long, I swear.” Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “And thank you for the coffee, you’ve somehow made it better than I would have.” Another kiss pressed to his other cheek, leaving a dumbfound Time Lord crouching in front of her chair as she hopped up, moving off in direction of her room, caffeinated beverage in hand.

As he recovered from the bewildering effect that her lips had caused, he allowed his fingers to ghost over his cheek. Before standing the Doctor realized she’d left the black garment on the floor at his feet. Taking it in hand, he realized what it was. He smiled, an actual toothy grin, as he recognized his coat he’d worn there.

In an instant he resumed his usual dissatisfied expression. Smoothing out the wrinkles in his outer layer, he slipped it on over his hoodie. “Too soft indeed, very much so.”

But still he simpered to himself, hoping to be thanked in such a manner again very soon.