#jack harkness fanfiction

[geekgirl750-writes]

The Torchwood brainrot is real. I'm writing a Jack Harkness x reader fic that will hopefully come out this week lol

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: Doctor Who

Character: Fifteenth Doctor

Sample Size: 256 stories

Source: AO3

[greencatalystcomet]

there is something in my stupid primal nostalgia brain that so desperately wants doctor who characters from different eras to meet eachother. i want amy to meet the third doctor. i want bill to meet susan. i want captain jack to meet adric or the second doctor. i want martha to meet the fifteenth doctor. and GOD the way i would go feral if ruby met rose. i may simply combust

[magiccath]

5 times the Doctor loved you, and one time he actually did something about it

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: as it says on the tin!

1.

The Doctor slammed the door behind you, the booming footsteps of the Cybermen closing in. 

“What’s the plan?” You asked, slightly breathless from running. 

The Doctor didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have a plan. He couldn’t think of a single way out of this situation. 

He had told you traveling with him was dangerous, but you always insisted on coming. The only thing he could do was promise to keep you safe. To keep you alive, no matter the cost. 

As the footsteps neared, he began to fear he couldn’t keep his promise. 

“Doctor?”

He hoped his eyes didn’t show the panic he was feeling inside. 

“Do we have a plan?”

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. A small part of him hoped it might shut everything out. 

The Cybermen neared your hideout, their metal fists banging on the wooden doors. Between the thick wood and the metal lock, the two of you had minutes at best. 

“The Cybermen are all connected through a network, correct?”

The Doctor opened his eyes, looking at you in confusion. 

“And if I can get into that network…” you scanned the room quickly, your eyes instantly settling on a computer. 

“It’ll be practically impossible,” the Doctor argued.

“They could have it under lock and key, and there would still be a way to break into it.” You smiled. “You just have to know what you’re doing.”

The Doctor watched in awe as your fingers danced across the keyboard, typing endless strings of characters that he couldn’t understand. 

“See, I already hacked into the database,” you leaned closer to the computer, absentmindedly chewing on your bottom lip. The Doctor tried not to let his eyes linger on your lips too much. 

“I just need to hack into the executive level.” You turned to look at the Doctor. 

He couldn’t think what you would need him for. You knew how computers worked, he didn’t really. 

Silently, you held out your hand. 

Confused, the Doctor took it. He wasn’t complaining. Your hands were soft and warm. He’d make any excuse to hold them. 

You laughed, the sound like music to his ears.

“No, silly.”

The Doctor blushed, but he didn’t remove his hand from yours. 

“I need the sonic,” you explained. 

Embarrassed, he slid the object into your hands. 

You handled the sonic with expertise. The Doctor didn’t think you had been listening all of those times he rambled on about the machine. 

Sure enough, you flicked to the correct settings in a matter of seconds. Using it appeared to be second nature to you. 

“Done!” You clapped your hands excitedly. Sure enough, the commotion outside the door halted, silence settling between the two of you. 

The Doctor’s eyes darted between the door and you, trying to process what had just happened. 

Once he did, he wasted no time scooping you into his arms. 

You laughed and wrapped your arms around his neck happily. 

The Doctor was practically buzzing with joy. He swung you gently from side to side as he hugged you, your feet dangling from the ground.

He didn’t want to let you go. 

“Brilliant!” He grinned, “You’re brilliant!” 

He pulled back slightly, planting a firm kiss on your forehead. 

In the end, you didn’t need him to save you. You could more than do that yourself. 

2. 

The Doctor was plagued with thoughts. Endless, troublesome thoughts swirled about his head. 

Almost nothing was certain. Except for one truth the Doctor held close to his heart. At the end of the day, it was just him. 

The last of the Time Lords. Floating through time and space, alone. 

Always alone. 

In his head, it was only a matter of time before you left. No one ever really stayed. Be it sickness, life, love, or fear, his companions always left him. 

He raked his hands across his face, hoping the action could silence the incessant chatter in his head. 

Truthfully, he didn’t have the strength to fight it off today. Why even bother? 

You bounded into the control room, a smile plastered across your face. You had a way of bringing light into any room. Most days, it was impossible for the Doctor to be upset in your presence. Today it was just too much for the alien to handle on his own. 

He tried to hide his hurt, plastering a sad smile on his own face. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, catching on instantly. 

“I’m fine,” he lied. 

You frowned, not falling for his lie. 

His hands clutched the console, his knuckles white from the force. Gently, you ghosted your fingers across his hand. Convinced he wasn’t going to run away, you placed your hands over his. Almost instantly they eased up, suddenly aware of the force in which he was clutching the console. 

“What’s going on up there?” you asked, your gentle hands moving to cup his face. You gave his head a light wiggle, the action causing the corners of the Doctor’s mouth to curve upwards. 

“How long are you going to stay with me?” He whispered, almost too scared to say the words aloud. 

You furrowed your brows, not out of anger, but rather confusion. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” You smiled, your thumbs rubbing circles against his cheeks softly. 

The Doctor didn’t really believe you. They never wanted to leave, until they did. Perhaps you were happy at the moment, but that wasn’t going to last. 

He forced himself to pull away from your grip. The sooner he let you go, the less it was going to hurt. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

“Doctor?” 

You grabbed the sleeve of his coat, tugging lightly. The Doctor closed his eyes, trying to demonstrate some level of self-restraint. You weren’t making it easy. 

Without warning, you wrapped your arms firmly around the man. Your grip was unwavering, your hands clutching at his clothes desperately. 

The Doctor was taken aback at first, unsure what to do. Eventually, he relaxed into the hug. Giving in, he allowed his arms to wrap around you, pulling you closer to him. If he had it his way, he would stay like this forever. 

“I don’t ever want to leave,” you gasped, your breath hot against his neck. You buried your face in his shoulder, attempting to get as close as possible. 

For a second, the Doctor allowed himself to think that you might feel even a fraction of the way he felt about you. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you beamed, pulling back to look at the Doctor. 

Your eyes were mesmerizing up close. Their color glistened in the TARDIS light, and he found it impossible to look away. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easy, Spaceman,” you laughed. 

3.

“The name’s Captain Jack Harkness,” The dashing man in front of you smiled, holding out his hand confidently. 

You took it warily, exchanging your own name awkwardly. You didn’t exactly share the Captain’s confidence. His smile clearly had you flabbergasted, a scarlet flush creeping onto your cheeks.

He flashed you an overly cocky grin, his hold on your hand unwavering. 

“Stop it,” the Doctor growled from behind you. 

“I’m just saying hello,” Jack said innocently, practically batting his eyelashes.

“It’s never just hello with you,” the Doctor continued groaning. He was used to Jack’s antics, the man flirted with anything that moved. He usually had no issue with it. That was, until the flirting was directed at you. 

“I don’t mind,” you grinned, looking up at the Captain sheepishly. You seemed to get lost in his eyes. From the Doctor’s point of view, you practically had heart eyes bursting from your head. 

Jack smiled back, charming as ever. His eyes traveled across your face, taking in each and every feature. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered. 

You let out a nervous giggle, clearly taken aback by the compliment. Had the Doctor never called you that before? He was almost certain he had. You had never reacted that way when he did.

“T-thank you,” you stammered. It was clear to just about anyone that you were interested in the Captain. Between the way you looked at him and the bright red of your face, you were practically screaming it. 

It drove the Doctor crazy. He couldn’t express how badly he wanted you to look at him like that. Yet here you were, ogling over none other than Captain Jack Harkness. 

“Do you want to grab coffee?” Jack asked, his words pulling the Doctor from his thoughts. 

The Doctor had to suppress a scoff. Of course, the captain was asking you out at a time like this. The world could be crumbling and he would shag the nearest complying individual. 

The Doctor didn’t want to think about you and Jack together. In fact, he didn’t like to think about you with anyone but him. Maybe it was selfish, but a small part of him wanted you all to himself. 

He didn’t stick around to hear your answer. It would only break his heart more to hear you say yes. 

Unfortunately, the Doctor didn’t know that you never said yes to the Captain. If he had stuck around, he would have found that out. 

4. 

Rage. 

That was the only thing coursing through the Doctor’s mind as he pointed the gun at the woman in front of him. Pure, unbridled rage. 

His hands shook as he cocked the gun, fully preparing himself to pull the trigger. He could do it. He had every means to take the woman’s life. 

“Doctor?” 

He didn’t need to move his gaze to know you were by his side. He could feel the gentle pull of your fingers on his coat. 

“Go back to the TARDIS,” he growled. 

“Doctor,” you repeated, hurt riddling your voice. 

He couldn’t bring himself to lower the gun, but at the same time, he couldn’t fire it either. 

The woman before him was an awful person. She had killed hundreds and didn't even feel a shred of remorse. Even further, he had killed your friend. He should kill her. You should want him to. But you didn't. 

“Doctor.” Your hand crept towards his. 

He shook his head. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry. But instead, he just stood there. 

“She doesn't deserve this,” you pleaded, your hand closing around his own. 

“Yes she does,” he said, shakily. He wasn’t sure if he fully believed himself. 

“If you kill her, are you any better than her?” You asked, guiding the hand holding the gun away from the woman. 

The Doctor didn’t stop you, but he didn’t agree either. His eyes remained trained on the woman at his feet. 

You eased the gun from his hand and disarmed it before throwing it across the room. 

You took his face in your hands gently, pulling his gaze towards you. 

“You are better than this,” you reminded him. 

The Doctor was fighting back tears. It was all he could do to shake his head no. 

“Yes, you are,” you reiterated, resting your forehead against his. 

5. 

The TARDIS was cold. Realistically, it was the Doctor’s fault for breaking the heater. In his defense, he didn’t intend to. 

It wasn’t an issue for the Time Lord, temperature wasn’t really an issue for him. He could wear a suit in the desert or shorts in the winter, it didn’t really matter. 

You, however, were obviously cold. 

“Are you going to fix the heating?” you asked, clutching your arms for warmth. 

It wasn’t that he wanted you to suffer. Quite the contrary. He couldn’t figure out how to fix the heater. He just didn’t want to admit it. 

“If you go up the stairs and to the left, you’ll find yourself in the TARDIS closet,” he explained. 

“I hardly think an 18th-century dress that smells of mothballs is going to fix the heating.” 

The Doctor chuckled. 

“No, but there are sweaters and other normal clothes in there.”

While you went searching for something warm, the Doctor continued his banging under the TARDIS console. It shouldn’t be this hard to figure out. 

He sat cross-legged on the floor, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He ducked his head downwards so he could read the book that lay open on the floor. 

“How to fix your spaceship at home!” wasn’t much help at the moment. He slammed the book shut and resumed his pointless banging. He was probably doing more harm than good, but he figured if he hit enough stuff the ship would fix itself. 

The TARDIS groaned in protest. 

“I think this will work,” you interrupted, walking back into the control room. 

You were rolling the sleeves of a green sweater up so you could use your hands. 

His green sweater. 

“It doesn’t smell like mothballs!” You jested. 

The Doctor turned his gaze away from you, hoping you wouldn’t notice the bright red color creeping into his cheeks. 

“It actually smells a bit like leather and sweets,” you continued, smelling the sleeve.

“That used to be mine.” 

“Yours?” You asked, almost as if you were shocked. 

“Well, it didn’t belong to this face,” he shrugged. 

“But it was yours.” 

“Yeah.” The red was taking over his face now. There was no way you hadn’t noticed. 

“You can have it back,” you said, interpreting his silence for displeasure. 

“No! I don’t wear stuff like that anymore. You can have it,” he rambled, scratching the back of his head anxiously. He wanted to say so many other things. How you looked infinitely better in it than he ever did and how happy it made him to see you in his sweater. 

“Thank you!” you grinned before bounding back down the hallway. 

The Doctor smiled to himself. He’d completely forgotten about the heating. All he could think about was how much he liked you in his clothes. 

The one time he did something about it.

You threw the doors of the TARDIS open, rushing into the open field. 

“It’s beautiful!” You laughed as you danced through the tall sapphire grass. You stopped to examine every strange and new plant littered throughout the meadow, encountering each with a new kind of enthusiasm.

The biome in front of him could be the most magnificent thing ever, and he would still be looking at you. Especially when you were this happy. 

You bounced around the meadow, picking up flowers you liked as the Doctor followed behind you. 

You rambled on about your day happily as you moved about. You were more than content to just be in the Doctor’s company without an imminent threat looming over you. 

He stopped your ramblings suddenly with an utterance of your name. 

“Yes?” You asked, wide-eyed. 

“I love you,” he whispered. He couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Wide-eyed, you blinked at him. 

“Please say something,” he said, pained.

You remained silent, still processing the Time Lord’s words. 

The Doctor began to panic. Thoughts tumbled about his head, doubt seeping into his mind. 

Then, without warning, you dropped your flowers and threw yourself into the Doctor’s arms. 

He fell over from the force, landing in the cushion of the plush foliage. 

“I’m sorry,” you laughed, a grin taking over your face. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

The Doctor brushed a stay strand of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. Color flushed into your cheeks from the simple action.

His eyes darted between your eyes and your mouth, silently asking permission to kiss him. You nodded your head lightly, inviting him to do so. 

Slowly, he brought his lips to yours. You smiled against his kiss, relishing in the warmth. 

When he pulled away, you pulled him back. Plastering a series of kisses against his mouth, you demanded his attention. 

This made the Doctor laugh, his arms snaking comfortably around your waist, truly securing you against himself. 

You drifted from his lips to his cheek, planting one final kiss there. 

“You love me!” you laughed, poking him playfully. 

“I do,” He laughed, resting his hand against your cheek.  You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes in tranquility. 

“I love you too,” you whispered against his palm, your breath warm on his hand. 

Truthfully, that was all the Doctor could have ever asked for.

[ghost-bison]

i'm writing a doctor who high school au and just for fun i wanted to see how the characters would look as teens so i used an app and tried to make it as not creepy and as natural as i could and most of them look ok but some are kind of scary no? 😭

anyways i hope i'll finish it, i haven't written much of it yet but i already have most of it planned and i think chapter 1 is turning out fine. i've decided on the ships already, most of the important plot points i think, relationships in general etc...

nine, ten and eleven will be twelve's adopted kids

[webtrinsic1122]

Had to do this for timetanic

[gmariam321]

So, many years ago I wrote a story where future Jack went back to see past Ianto because he was basically closing a time loop. And he missed him. In the process he decided to save Ianto from Thames House and brought him to the future.

And Ianto was pissed.

The save and the future wasn't part of the story though. They had to then go back and Retcon themselves so they didn't remember the visits until it was time to remember - again, casual time loop.

I am sort of intrigued by the idea of future Jack saving Ianto but Ianto absolutely flipping out, angry and upset and so very lost. We all assume the happily ever afters set in the future are exactly that - happy. But what if it took Ianto a while to forgive Jack for what happened at Thames House? What if he couldn't deal with dying and coming back to life in the future? What then? What would he do, and when would he come around? Because of course he would, eventually. But maybe it takes a while to get to happily ever after. This is Janto, after all.

(I also wrote a story where the future save went much better. That save made more sense too. But what if it hadn't gone well??)

So I'm intrigued. I'm on fall break so maybe I'll try sketching out some ideas. My Briticisms will be way off if I give it a go, but maybe after ten+years of writing for British fandoms it will come back fast. Because I think there could be a story in there. We shall see!

[notjustateaboy]

[bobcatblahs]

Oh, hey- since a fair few of yall liked my ‘Tiny Dancer’ story- I thought you’d like to know…

The sequel,

‘After All’

Is up now :)

(And I made a lame little kitchen cork board mood board for it because I can and nobody stopped me)

If you haven’t read the first story, this one won’t make sense so start with ‘Tiny Dancer’ here:

[iantoscoffee]

cw: nsfw related but nothing too explicit

i remember reading this janto ff in which dom ianto (me when he 🧎🏻) let jack have sex with other people under his watch and when someone complained about jack not being a good sub ianto said “he’ s my toy, i was just letting you play with him”. my only thought was and still is “jaw dropped and clothes too”

im on my knees for ianto and i ain’ t praying

[imdonnalynn]

I'm feeling a spark of hope guys, I want to write Jack Russell x Elsa Bloodstone from Werewolf By Night and it's right up my alley of knowledge! I'm a big supernatural buff and love that the MCU is finally getting into this part of the genre.

I watched it when it came out in 2022 and loved it and them, but admittedly it wasn't until Agatha All Along came out that I remembered how much I DID love Werewolf By Night. So now I'm constantly watching Agatha, Werewolf By Night and of course Multiverse of Madness with my girl Scarlet Witch.

I'm trying to come up with a decent plot to write for them...

[geekgirl750-writes]

Jack: God gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers

Ianto: Was the store out of dino nuggets again?

Jack: Yeah :(

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: Doctor Who

Character: Thirteenth Doctor

Sample Size: 8,356 stories

Source: AO3

[saecookie]

You lost someone, ep rewrite, 15Jack

When has Jack Harkness not risen to a challenge? The Doctor should have stopped himself beforehand, should have checked the timelines, the state of their relationship. A sick feeling grows in his stomach. Maybe Jack doesn’t know him at this point in his life – a kind of cruelty he doesn’t think the TARDIS is capable of, since Jack clearly arrived before them. The man has a mission, or he would be pouncing on him by now. Time Agency? It can’t be. Please let it not be. Or: what if Jack Harkness was on that balcony?

(read on ao3.)

[quietwingsinthesky]

jack harkness/simm master. do what you want with that

i love the idea of Jack and the Master meeting during his minister of defense era, it’s so deliciously terrible to me. great potential. anyway. here’s them.

Here’s what Jack Harkness takes away from his first impression of Saxon: he’s too clean for a politician, especially one settled in so comfortably as Minister of Defense.

It itches at the back of his brain through their few conversations as Saxon smiles at him. “*I’m* sure Torchwood’s funding wouldn’t be better spent elsewhere,” he tells Jack, co-conspiratorial, “and if it were up to me-”

“It is up to you,” Jack says, smiling back. Saxon’s eyes dart down to his lips and up again. Jack leans forward, casting his gaze across the man’s face like he’ll find the secrets he’s looking for in the pull of his lips or crinkle of his eyes. Too clean, too perfect, like a pretty picture of a potential Prime Minister. Jack tries to remember his stated policies, but his mind slides off the information, and it turns to him, grasping at nothing, and tells him that whatever he believes, Saxon believes.

“If only,” Saxon laughs, and it’s warm like a housefire. Jack squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head, and suspicion falls right out. “I heard about the fiasco at Canary Wharf.”

Heard? Jack thinks. How’d you miss it? Saxon reaches across his desk and puts his hand over Jack’s wrist.

“I bet you run a tighter ship than that, Captain,” he says, voice low. “Tell me exactly what their tax dollars are going to, so I can reassure all those worried voters who might just have to think for themselves otherwise.” The words themselves buzz without meaning across Jack’s brain as Saxon’s fingers drum against the pulse at his wrist, too quick to match, too many beats, almost familiar like-

“You are just horrible to look at,” Saxon murmurs. “Nails on a chalkboard. I don’t know how he could stand being around you for even a minute.” Jack’s mind feels slow and thick, and any sentence he manages is a fight of slowly wading through.

“Torchwood… We arm the human race against the future.” Saxon grins wider.

“Do you have a speech prepared?” he releases Jack’s wrist suddenly and falls back into his chair, his whole body language changing from Prime Minister hopeful to lazy predator smelling fresh meat. “He hates whenever I get a taste of his pets. I’ll fuck you for it.”

“What?” Jack’s trying to catch up. Wherever the conversation went when Saxon was touching him is dim in his memory already, and he’s not even able to summon up concern about it.

“Or I’ll let you fuck me. I like that better. Less work.” Jack narrows his eyes. This, he understands. Too clean, he’d known. Too pretty a wife not to be messing around. Well, he could do worse. For his team, he’d do just about anything.

[theladysiubhan]

Time Traveling Triad

Tales of a Time Traveling Triad

https://archiveofourown.org/series/4227811

Art & Series by The_Lady_Siubhan