#river song x you

[wholoveseggs]

Phantom Desires

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Reader} Harrenhal is tormenting Daemon, blurring the lines between what is reality and what is a dream. The damp, cold castle is driving him mad—until he meets you. You smell like summer, feel like a dream, and your lips taste like honey. If only you weren't a ghost.

♡♡ I was super inspired by Daemons bad time at Harrenhal and I decided he needs more trauma ~xoxo ♡♡

5.3k words - Warnings: smuttt, ghost!reader, oral sex {m! & f! receiving}, Harrenhal lore, spooky shit, fiery death, Daemon is losing his mild, ghost sex, Alys Rivers being Alys Rivers {I love her}, horrifying as it is horny ...

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

{Daemon Targaryen Tag-List}

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer @cheneyq @fallout-girl219

My love, please… 

Daemon was woken by a voice calling him softly from across the room. It sounds like the breeze through the curtains, but when he opened his eyes, all was quiet.

He loathed this place, the damp made his bones ache and in every dark corridor he felt as if he was being watched. He could hardly sleep a full night in the cursed castle.

My love, come with me…

This time when Daemon's eyes snapped open, he could see a figure at the end of his bed, silhouetted against the moonlight that shone through the open window. He reached for his dagger, but stopped when the figure stepped into the light and disappeared.

"Fucking hell." Daemon cursed, rubbing his eyes with his palms. Maybe the damp really was making him lose his mind. He couldn't even trust his own eyes anymore.

He laid back down and closed his eyes again, pulling the furs around his body tighter. Sleep. He told himself. Go. To. Fucking. Sleep...

You stood there, watching him sleep from the foot of his bed. He was a handsome man, his blonde hair was tousled against the dark furs of his bed, the moon casting silver across his features.

You crept closer, kneeling down on the edge of the bed, your hands smoothing the sheets. You longed to touch him, to feel his warmth, to feel his hands upon you.

My king…

You whispered, tears stinging your eyes. He would never hear you, no one could hear you. You watched him stir a little, his eyelashes fluttering, his face frowning in his sleep.

Please, I'm begging you. I don't want to burn. Don't let me burn…

Daemon's eyes snapped open. He was sure he had heard something. There it was again. Crying. Someone was crying.

He needed some air, this place was starting to make him paranoid. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pulled on his breeches and a jerkin before grabbing a torch and stepping into the hall.

The castle was quiet, his footsteps echoing along the empty halls. He wasn't a fool, believing in tales of ghosts and the like. But this place... he had seen things he couldn't explain.

Maybe it was the stress of the war. Of the guilt he was trying so hard to ignore. All the lives lost because of his actions. The lives of people he loved.

A sob cut through the silence, pulling Daemon back from his dark thoughts.

Don't burn me alive…

A voice, soft and pleading, echoed from the end of the corridor. It had to be a hallucination brought on by lack of sleep and the damp.

Please…

There it was again. Daemon turned on his heel, following the sobs until he found himself outside a small door. A woman's voice came through the wooden frame, crying, sobbing, pleading.

His hand went to the doorknob, he was shaking, terrified. What was happening to him? He had become so unmoored that he had lost his grip on reality? He knew the only way to get it back was to confront it head on.

When he pushed open the door, he saw you, standing in the dark corner of the room, your arms wrapped around yourself as you sobbed.

For a moment he just wanted to turn around and leave. He didn't have the capacity to console a crying woman right now. But then, he couldn't stop staring at you.

You turned, looking straight at him. Daemon felt a jolt in his stomach. Your eyes, they were beautiful. They seemed to glow with their own light.

"Are... Are you alright?" He asked you, cautiously, looking around the room for someone else. There was no one.

You wiped your tears, the reason you had been crying had already slipped your mind. The moment you saw the man before you, his blonde hair shining like the moon and his eyes, they were so piercing, like he could see right through you.

"I'm sorry, I must have gotten lost." You said, taking a step towards him.

He looked you up and down, his face twisted with confusion. You were dressed in finery, soft silks and velvets, the kind of thing a noble would wear. But this room, it was bare, cold and damp, not fit for a mouse let alone a woman of your beauty.

"I'm afraid I must have missed your introduction." He replied, giving you a curious look.

You smiled softly, it was the first time in so many years you had a visitor. He was handsome, strong, everything a man should be. You knew what he was, a Targaryen. A dragonrider. Born with fire in his veins.

You reached your hand out, and his eyes darted to it. He hesitated before taking it, half expecting his hand to pass right through you, but instead your fingers were warm, solid.

"I'm sorry for intruding, my lady. I thought this room was empty."

Your heart was pounding, the blood rushing to your ears. His touch, it felt like fire, power and there was an odd void to it. Like death rode beside him.

"It's alright." You whisper, not wanting him to let go.

"Are you a ghost?" He asked, his hand sliding up your arm, as if testing you, checking to see if you were real.

You laughed, how silly, "A ghost? No."

Daemon let out a shaky breath, "Thank the gods."

"Do you want something warm to drink? It can get so cold here," You asked, you wanted him to feel welcome, to calm the fire in his veins.

He seemed hesitant at first, but then he nodded, a small smile forming on his lips.

He followed you down the dark halls, keeping his torch aloft to light your way. The flames illuminating the damp, cold walls and the dust that floated through the air.

"You know, it wasn't always like this." You said softly, as you walked through the narrow passageways, your fingers running along the cold wet stone. "It was once a beautiful place, warm, welcoming."

He glanced around at the rotting floors and the moss growing along the stonework. He couldn't imagine it.

"My understanding is that it was always a cursed place, even before Aegon's arrival," he stated as the two of you entered the kitchens.

It was just as cold as the rest of the castle, but there was a fire going, and a basin full of fresh water. He lit the torches around the room and you began pulling out ingredients and preparing the tea.

Daemon leaned against the table, watching you work. You didn't look like you belonged in this place, you were too clean, too soft. Yet you behaved like you owned everything you touched.

"They say that before Harrenhal was built, it was a vast forest of heart trees," You said, focusing on putting some herbs and root vegetables into the pot over the fire, "That the trees themselves were Gods, and their roots are still underneath the stones, waiting to reclaim what is theirs."

"Sounds like a lot of nonsense," Daemon replied bitterly, his skepticism evident. 

"Yes," You agreed with a small smile, "But old stories often have a grain of truth to them."

He didn't understand why he was so drawn to you, why he sat and took the warm cup of tea that you handed him, or why he asked you to sit down next to him. He wasn't in the business of trusting people, but you... it felt like he had known you his whole life.

"The witch that resides here, Alys, said something similar," he added, remembering how she spun a tale about how this place was cursed. 

Your eyes darkened and your lips set in a line.

"Do not trust her," You tell him, your voice firm, "She sees things that are not there and hides secrets that are not her own."

He laughed and shook his head. "And what makes you so certain?"

You shrugged, "I see things too," you replied nervously, twiddling your fingers on your mug.

Daemon took a sip of his tea, an amused smile on his face and his eyebrows raised, "Is that so? Well, what do you see about me?"

You looked at him, your eyes studying every inch of his face, his hair, the scars along his neck. "You wish for things you don't really want," You whisper, "You seek violence, but deep down, you only want peace."

Daemon's face darkened, his jaw clenched and his hands tightened around his mug.

"Peace is for the weak," He replied harshly, his voice low, threatening, "Only the strong survive, and take what they want."

He looked so sad, so lonely. You wanted to reach out and comfort him, but you were scared. There was a rage in him, and a desperation that seemed to engulf him.

"I didn't mean to offend." You apologize, lowering your gaze.

You didn't look at him, your fingers running around the rim of your mug, until you felt him move closer to you.

"You didn't." He answered you, his voice softer, "Tell me more, about yourself. If you will."

You looked up at him and you could see his eyes had changed, softened, there was a curiosity there.

"How did you end up here?" He asked you, watching the fire dance in your eyes.

He could see a shadow of sadness in them, pain, worry. But then it disappeared, hidden behind a mask of a beautiful smile. You fascinated him, such a pretty flower growing amongst the cold unforgiving stone.

"My husband put me here." You told him, tracing your finger along the scarred wood of the table. "He's gone now, lost in smoke,”

You could tell he didn't know how to respond. But his expression told you that he had lost someone too. He just quietly nodded, taking another sip of his tea. He was starting to relax a little more, the warmth of the fire and the comforting smell of the drink was starting to put his mind at ease.

"Why did you think I was a ghost?" You asked him softly, your hand coming to rest on his arm, as though to remind him you were real, solid. 

Daemon sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, he didn't know how to answer that question without sounding insane. You could sense that a shadow hung around him like a stormcloud. His secrets coming to the surface.

"This place... It has a restlessness to it," he said, his voice low, cutting through the silence. "Some nights I lay awake listening to the walls groan, as though they are shifting and moving. I can hear... I can hear..." He trailed off, his voice getting hoarse.

You placed a hand on his cheek, his skin was rough and warm, and he leaned into your touch. You liked the way your skin felt against his, you wanted to assure him that you were trustworthy.

Daemon couldn't explain why he was telling you so much, but there was a calmness to you. When you touched him it felt like Dragonstone on a summer's day, like the feeling he got when he was alone in the clouds, flying far away from everything.

"Perhaps you are just lonely, and the castle is lonely too," You suggest to him.

Daemon couldn't deny the loneliness that plagued him. The nights were the worst, he had no one to confide in, no one to love him. He didn't want to think of his wife, his queen, far away and angry with him. Or his brother, dying alone and in agony. He had hurt them in ways that he could not atone for.

"Perhaps you are right," he admitted, taking your hand from his cheek and intertwining it with his own. 

You watched him, the firelight dancing across his handsome features. His blonde hair was like liquid silver and his eyes were beautiful, like a summer sky.

"Stay with me tonight," He told you, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand, his eyes pleading. There was a vulnerability in him, one that drew you in.

Daemon couldn't tell if he was being a fool, or if he was simply desperate to not be alone. The practical part of his brain told him that a good fuck would help him sleep, but this felt like something else. You were beautiful, there was no denying that, but you also felt like a dream, a figment of his imagination.

You didn't say a word, just stood up, still holding his hand, and led him from the kitchen, through the hall, past the courtyard, up the steps to his bed chambers.

The journey there felt like a blur, he couldn't take his eyes off you. The way your dress swayed, the way your hair bounced, the way the moonlight lit up your skin. It was like you were made of mist, or smoke, something that could fade away any moment.

The room was colder than when he left, the air smelled stale, and the curtains were flapping in the wind. It had a haunted quality, like a portrait whose eyes follow you around the room.

He had left the fire burning, but the warmth had been extinguished, and the flames were low. You moved to light the candles, giving the room a soft glow, but the darkness remained.

You turned to face him, he was watching you intently, waiting for you to make a move. You stepped closer, closing the distance between you, your hands sliding up his chest. He was so warm, so solid, full of life and power.

His hands tangled in your hair, pulling your face closer, and your lips met. It was a gentle kiss, hesitant, almost afraid. Like he was doing it for the first time.

His mouth was warm, the taste of the tea still on his lips. You could feel the desire building, the fire growing inside him. You pulled away, looking up at him. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated, a hunger in them.

"Please don't burn me," you whispered, the words sounding strange to his ears.

Daemon didn't understand what you meant by it, and his lust was too powerful to care. He captured your lips again, kissing you deeply.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head. The light of the candle flickered across his chest, illuminating the texture of his scars.

"You have seen battle," You comment, tracing the mark on his chest, a reminder of the war and the violence he craved.

"Many times," he said, his voice low, heavy with desire, "And I have many more to see."

"So much suffering," You whisper, leaning forward, kissing one that stretched across his chest, "So much blood."

He closed his eyes, letting the heat of your touch wash over him.

You moved down, dropping to your knees, pressing your lips against his stomach, feeling the hardness of his muscles. Your hands reached for laces of his breeches, untying them and freeing his cock from the confines.

He let out a shaky breath as your hand wrapped around him, slowly stroking his length.

"My king," you whispered, kissing the underside of his shaft.

Daemon let out a moan, his head falling back, his hand reaching out to grip the back of your neck. He needed more, needed to feel your lips wrapped around him.

You obliged him, opening your mouth, taking his cock into your hot, wet mouth. He groaned, his hips bucking forward, pushing himself deeper.

"Fuck," he hissed, his fingers tangling in your hair.

He looked down at you, his cock disappearing between your plump lips. The sight made him harder, and he was struggling to control himself. He wanted to fuck you, claim you.

Your hand reached down, cupping his balls, massaging them gently. Daemon moaned, his grip on your hair tightening, pulling your head forward, forcing his cock further down your throat.

He tasted like power, like a dragon made flesh. You could feel his pulse throbbing, the heat of his blood, the energy that pulsed through his body.

Daemon pulled you back by your hair, his cock popping out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting you. He stared at you for a moment, before bending down and picking you up.

He carried you to the bed, dropping you onto the sheets. You looked up at him, his eyes were wild, and the smile on his face was pure lust.

He untied your dress, pushing the fabric aside, his hands sliding across your breasts. He bent down, his lips wrapping around your nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive nub.

Daemon groaned, his hands moving down, tugging on your skirts, pulling them up around your waist, leaving you completely exposed to him.

He continued kissing his way down, his lips trailing across your stomach, his hands lifting your thighs, pushing your legs apart.

He settled between your legs, kissing your inner thigh, gently nipping at the tender skin. You felt his warm breath against your cunt, a soft moan escaping your lips.

He chuckled, pressing his face between your thighs, inhaling your scent. You could feel his tongue licking the length of your pussy, his fingers probing, pressing inside of you.

You gasped, your back arching, your hands clutching the sheets. You had never felt anything like it before, the feeling of his mouth and fingers moving in tandem, making your whole body tingle.

"Don't burn me, don't burn me," you whispered, over and over.

He pulled away, his eyes filled with concern, but he did not speak, did not ask you what you meant.

Instead, he pressed his lips against yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth. You tasted yourself on his lips, and you moaned, wanting more.

His eyes were gentle, trying to convey a tenderness he did not have, and his voice was quiet, as he whispered, "You are not going to burn."

Your hands went to his chest, clutching his shoulders, and you let him spread your legs. He was still fully clothed, but his cock was free, the tip of his erection pressing against your entrance.

You gasped as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. You clung to him, wrapping your arms and legs around him, moaning softly as he began to thrust.

He moved slowly at first, allowing you to adjust to his size, but he quickly increased his pace, pounding into you, the sound of flesh slapping together echoing through the chamber.

"My king, my king, please don't-" you moaned, feeling him hit a good spot inside, sending sparks through your body.

He didn't listen, didn't understand what you meant, just continued to fuck you, his fingers digging into your thighs. He could feel his climax building, his cock throbbing inside of you.

You could feel him getting close, his breathing becoming ragged, his movements becoming erratic. You fell over the edge together, crying out as he released his seed deep inside you.

"My king, oh my king," you moaned, your nails digging into his back, leaving deep red marks.

He collapsed on top of you, panting heavily, his head resting on your chest. He didn't know why you kept calling him king, perhaps you were a bit confused about his status. But he wasn't going to correct you, he enjoyed the way it sounded coming from your lips.

You stroked his hair, his breathing slowly returning to normal. You could feel his heart beating, his warmth, his power.

"Don't leave," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"I won't," you promised him, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them.

You felt him slowly fall asleep, his weight comforting on top of you.

There was a strange peace in the room, the darkness and the chill receded, the candlelight dancing across the stonework.

You held him, running your fingers through his hair, humming a tune that was as old as the castle itself.

Daemon woke to the sounds of screaming. His eyes shot open, his hands grabbing for his sword that was always close by. He was alone in his bed, the fire long since extinguished, the only light coming from the full moon.

He didn't have time to worry about where you had gone, the sounds of people shouting and a dragon roaring had him jumping out of bed, quickly dressing.

He ran down the corridor, the stones were ice cold, and the air smelled stale, the shadows dancing menacingly along the walls. He had to push against a door, it was swollen from the damp, but when he burst through, the smell of burnt flesh was thick.

You were in the courtyard, standing in the middle, your white dress glowing in the moonlight. You turned to look at him, your eyes full of tears.

"Please don't burn me," you begged him, your voice breaking.

The roar of the dragon filled his ears, and the sky was lit up with orange flames. He looked to the sky for the source of it, had Aemond arrived with Vhagar?

He was horrified when he saw that the dragon was not Vhagar, but the largest dragon he had ever seen. It looked like Balerion, but it had three heads.

He watched as it descended, its wings so large that with every movement, the sound of the wind would change, becoming deafening, thunderous.

He turned to look back at you, to tell you to run, but you were now right in front of him. Your face was mere inches from his own, burned black, melted, half of it hanging off.

"My king," you cried, your voice a broken, raspy sound. "Why did you burn me,"

Daemon screamed, then woke up in his bed. His body covered in a sheen of sweat, his heart pounding.

The bed next to him was empty, cold, the fire still burning low. He could still hear the screams, the dragon, the pain and suffering, still smell the ash and the charred flesh.

The sun was shining through the window, the sound of birds singing. Everything was peaceful, the castle was still, silent.

He sat up, his breathing slowing, his pulse returning to normal. He looked around the room, there was no sign of you, no sign that the night had ever happened.

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to calm himself. It had just been a dream, a vision. Nothing more.

But he could still smell you on the sheets, and the image of you was burned into his memory. He got up, dressing quickly, needing to move, to do something.

He spent the day meeting with vassals and lords, discussing matters of the realm. Trying to keep his mind busy. He felt as though he was slowly losing his grip on reality, he swore he could see you around every corner, could hear your voice in every creak and groan of the castle.

The sun had set, and the candles were burning low. The castle was quiet, the servants had gone to bed, the halls empty. He felt like he was completely alone, the only one left in the vast void of this wretched place.

He made his way down to the kitchens, looking for you. It was a foolish thing to do, he knew, but he had to find you, had to see if you were real.

He found Alys, sitting on a stool next to the fireplace, her nose buried in a book.

"Evening," she said without looking up, "Tea is in the pot."

Daemon didn't want tea, he didn't want anything other than to know you were alright.

"Have you seen the new girl?" He asked her, trying to keep his voice even, trying to seem nonchalant.

"Who?" She asked, still not looking up.

"She..." Daemon tried to describe what you looked like, but when he tried to picture you in his mind, the only image he could see was the one from his dream, your burned and melted face.

Alys watched him with a slight smirk, this dragon lord was unraveling so quickly, it was delicious. She went back to focusing on her book. "Doesn't ring a bell,"

He knew there was no point in trying to get more out of her, so he gave up and left the kitchen.

"Perhaps she is where you left her?" Alys suggested, her laughter echoing after him.

He walked back to his chambers, his heart pounding, his palms sweating. He stood outside the door for a moment, before gathering his courage and stepping inside.

The room was dark, the curtains were still closed, the air cold. There was a book lying open on his bed, one he did not remember leaving there.

He picked it up, holding it far away from him, like it could burn him. It was a book of the histories, of the conquest. Of Harren the Black and his sons burning alive.

He wondered who else died in the blaze, the nameless faces who were forgotten by history, the servants and slaves, the wives and daughters.

Daemon was sure he was losing his mind, the castle was haunting him, and it was only a matter of time before he became one of its ghosts.

Don't burn me… My king…

He remembered the fear in your voice, the sadness, the pleading. Anger and confusion bubbled in his chest and he threw the book across the room, the pages fluttering as it landed.

He needed sleep, this was all because he wasn't sleeping. Once he was rested, his mind would be clearer. He put no stock in dreams or visions, ghosts and monsters, that was for children and fools, this was all just because he was tired.

He got ready for bed, blowing out the candles, the moonlight casting shadows across the walls. He settled into bed and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to take him.

You watched him lay there, his brow furrowed, his face troubled. He tossed and turned, his eyes fluttering open and closed.

You laid down next to him, gently placing your hand on his cheek. He calmed at your touch, his breathing slowing. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, his skin warm, and his hair tickled your lips.

"My king," the words fell from your lips, barely above a whisper.

He opened his eyes, nearly jumping out of bed when he saw you, laying right next to him, your head on the pillow.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, his voice harsh, his hand gripping the dagger under his pillow.

You sat up, your hair falling around you, your dress slipping off your shoulder. "I was just... I just..." You tried to find the words, tried to think of what you were doing, where you were. "...I missed you," you said, the words not feeling quite right, but they were the only ones that came.

He stared at you, his eyes wild, his hand gripping the dagger so tightly, his knuckles were white.

"How did you get in here?" He asked, his voice low, dangerous.

You thought about it, trying to remember, but it was like there was a fog covering your mind.

"I don't know, I've always been here," you said, your voice trembling, tears starting to form. "I just wanted to see you."

He let go of the dagger, and took a deep breath.

"What is your name?" He asked, his eyes studying you.

"I- I don't know," you stammered, the tears falling freely now.

He reached out and touched your face, wiping away the tears with his thumb. His hand lingered, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

"You're not real are you?" He asked, his voice full of sadness.

"Yes I am," you cried, grabbing his hand, pressing it against your cheek. "I'm right here."

He sighed, closing his eyes. "Who do you think I am?"

"You're the dragon king," you said, smiling through the tears, “the great conqueror,”

He stared at you, his eyes filled with sorrow. "What is my name?" He asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Aegon," you said, the word felt right, like it belonged in your mouth, but the fear in his eyes told you otherwise.

He pulled away from you, moving to the edge of the bed, his back to you. He felt your arms wrap around him from behind, your breasts pressing against his back, your head resting on his shoulder.

"You're not really Aegon," you whispered, "Are you?"

He shook his head, his eyes staring at the floor.

"I'm not real?" You asked, your hands clutching his shoulders.

"No, no you're not," he whispered.

Suddenly you were kneeling in front of him, your hands resting on his thighs, your head tilted to look at him.

"Then why can I touch you?" You asked, running your hands up his thighs.

He didn't answer, just pulled you into his lap and pressed his lips to yours. You melted into him, his hands on your waist, his lips parting.

You tasted sweet, like honey, like a spring day, the flowers blooming. He needed you like a fire needs air, like a man needs water, his hands moving down to your hips, pulling you closer.

He moaned into the kiss, your hips rolling against him. You could feel his hardness beneath the fabric, the heat radiating from him. Your hands untied his shirt, pushing the fabric aside, revealing his bare chest.

You kissed his neck, biting and sucking on the tender skin. He groaned, his hands moving to your hair, tugging, pulling you away from his neck.

You stared at him, your eyes dark, full of lust, your lips swollen. He pulled you back in, his mouth crashing into yours, his hand moving to the back of your neck, holding you in place.

He lifted your skirts, his hand dipping beneath the fabric, easing a finger inside you. You gasped against his lips, his touch sending shivers through your body, your hands gripping his shoulders. He slipped another finger inside you, pumping slowly, then adding another. His eyes never left yours as the intensity increased, moving faster, your breath coming in short gasps.

Your lips brushed his, your voice a breathy moan. "Please my king.... Don't burn me, don't burn me,"

Daemon froze.

"I can't burn you," he said, his voice hoarse. "You're already dead."

Your face crumpled, the tears flowing freely, sobs wracking your body. The sound of you crying echoed strangely in the chamber, the shadows growing longer, the light from the moon turning crimson.

"I'm dead? You killed me?" You cried, trying to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let you go.

"I didn't kill you," he said, his eyes locked on yours. "That was someone else, in another time,"

You looked at him, your eyes wide, your mouth open in a silent scream. He watched in horror as your skin began to bubble and blister, peeling off in chunks. It was like you turned into sand in his arms, slowly crumbling, falling through his fingers.

You screamed, a blood curdling, terrible sound, like the screams he had heard in his nightmare. You were being consumed by fire, the flames eating away at your flesh, burning, boiling, the smell of burning meat filling the air.

He couldn't look away, couldn't let go. He was frozen in place, trapped, watching as you were destroyed. Then you vanished from his lap, fading into nothing.

Daemon sat in his bed, his skin clammy, his breathing ragged. He clutched his head, his fingers digging into his scalp. He couldn't take this anymore. He was going mad.

"Don't leave me here in this place," he whispered, he did not know why he had said it, but he did. It was a plea, a desperate, hopeless plea.

But you had left. Because you were never real.

And this wretched castle was just as lonely as before.

[thinkdoctorriver]

The Husbands of River Song // Silence in the Library

[expectiations]

His energy not matching hers used to bother me. Now I see he did try, but the sorrow in his eyes was clear. He knew what was coming, knew it would hurt. His eyes silently apologized for the tears she'd shed and the harsh words a younger him would soon throw at her.

[musical-chick-13]

[goeldicotton]

Here’s a stupid sketch I did

Also

The amount of sheer cattiness that would go on between the Doctor and himself if this ever happened

Missed opportunities

[multishipperofgaydeadwizards]

"you don't expect a sunset to admire you back" is so peter abt james

[artstuff123]

Art of bloodraven & shiera seastar dancing (figured being at court & all they probably dance together whenever there is a dance happening) art made by the great artist @tosquinha thank you very much for making this for me 🫂

[tentative-art]

"You're so his wife."

"Oh, Amy, Amy, Amy. This is the Doctor we're talking about. Do you really think it could be anything that simple?"

[arting-block]

I absolutely love your writing style & your 11th doctor fics 😊 I’m not sure what your opinions on writing poly ships are, but I’m a sucker for some fem reader x 11 and River, and was wondering if i could request something fluffy and sweet with reader thinking her feelings towards the both of them are unrequited due to River and the Doctor being together already, but of course relationships with the Doctors can always be so complicated so who says he has to love just one woman at a time, he’s got two hands for a reason 🙏❤️

𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | Eleventh Doctor x F!Reader x River Song

❝𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥. 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥.❞

Summary: You were just a companion, a friend to the two Time Lords. At least, you thought you were.

Warnings: Angst, unrequited love (not really lol), fluffy ending

Words: 6.1K

A/N: I'M ALIVE!!! This request sat in my inbox and I struggled a bit to not turn this into a fully fleshed out story. I swear this was meant to be a smol lil blurb, your honor. I sneezed and then 5k spat onto my screen idk it just happened I swear...Anyways, gonna try to get to my other requests soon 🫡

Ordinary is not in your vocabulary. Nothing in your life ever seemed ordinary the moment the Doctor offered an adventure in his bigger-on-the-inside box and a devilish smile. No one normal would have given their safety in exchange for life-threatening altercations with aliens, monsters, and the worst of the universe. You hated the ordinary, despised the monotony of everyday life.

You took the Doctor’s offer with a smile of your own, delight and mischief to complement. 

Everything was going well as far as you were concerned. Lives were saved, memories were made, and all the time in the world to do whatever. You were happy, plain and simple.

You embraced the unknown, thanks to the Doctor’s influence. Comfortable with the odd and unthinkable. 

At least you thought you were. 

With each adventure comes injuries. Most are minimal that heal in a matter of days. Others leave scars that are forever etched in your skin. Being the self-sacrificing stubborn human you were, you often became a shield to those in need. In this particular case you had gotten slashed by a knife in a tussle. 

It wasn’t deep enough to be fatal, but it stretched from your collarbone to the side of your neck. Thin line of crimson and a sharp sting when air hit it. Annoying, yes, but nothing you couldn’t handle. 

Your traveling companion had a different view.

You groan, “I’m fine, seriously. There’s no need to fuss over a scratch.”

River, beautiful as she is stubborn, gives you a pointed look. One that borders a withering stare but since you’re you it comes off as scolding. 

“You nearly had your head off your shoulders. You’re lucky I was there to intervene,” came her grumbling response. 

Her fingers find your chin to tilt your head up, her face out of your line of sight as you stare up at the ceiling. You take the opportunity to roll your eyes at her need to coddle you. You’re a grown woman for Christ’s sake, perfectly capable of handling yourself. If anything you’ve encountered worse and had bounced back fine. 

Sure, the knife of your attacker came a tad too close to the artery on your neck. Hell, maybe if your reflexes didn’t kick in fast enough you would’ve had a much different night to spend. 

But those hypothetical scenarios were merely that. Hypothetical. You’ve walked away that fight with bruised knuckles and a shallow, 4 inch cut. 

You were fine. Perfectly capable of handling yourself—

River’s finger finds the hollow of your throat. 

Feather-light, just barely touching the skin. You feel her touch up along your neck sending a chill down your spine. Your breath hitched when it stopped just above your pulse point. Something tugs the strings in your chest. 

A dangerous feeling coils down in your core. 

River’s breath tickles your ear, “Breathe, darling. Can’t have you passing out on me.”

As if on command, your body responds eagerly. You force air to leave your lungs all at once. There’s a slight burn left behind and you're sure it’s not due to your withholding oxygen. 

You clear your throat, “Are you going to patch me up Doctor Song?”

It comes off shaky and quiet.

River’s hand leaves your face and you can finally see her. A curve of a smile and a glint in her eyes that leaves goosebumps. 

Your legs involuntarily shift close.

River gives a shrug, “You’re right, just a scratch. No need for fussing. Unless you want me to patch you up?”

You shake your head, “N-No, there’s no need. Thank you for offering though.”

There’s a painful squeeze in your chest. Regret.

River nods understandably, “I’ll be out of your hair then. Give a shout if you need me.”

You watch as she turns to leave. You can’t help but trace the curve of her hips as she approaches the door. Words clump in your throat, an impulse of a thought racing. Before you can act she crosses the threshold, the door closing behind her.

Somehow it stung more than the 4 inch cut on your throat.

Just a friend. Only a friend.

— — —

You tried to put the encounter with River as far removed from your mind as you can. It was just the heat of the moment, a little rise because it’s been ages since you’ve had a romantic relationship. Not that you needed one. You’re perfectly content with spending your time with the Doctor. Who needs romance when you’re traveling the universe with a quirky alien?…A hot alien.

A hot alien who is your friend. Nothing more.

“Is there something on my face?” the Doctor asked, swiping his chin for invisible crumbs.

His words snapped you out of your haze. Back to the present. 

“Wha—No! Sorry, lost in my own head. What were you saying?”

The Doctor presses a few buttons to prepare the TARDIS for travel, glossing over your admitting to not listening, “I was in the middle of explaining why going to Kaythrona would be a bad idea in comparison to Bouble-4A. Perfect this time of year—trees made of crystals and the water is perfect temperature year round. Perfect water, perfect temperature, perfect getaway!”

His smile is that of pure joy. Infectious to anyone, especially you. 

“Yeah, perfect! You have any plans when we arrive?” you asked, leaning against the console. 

You were an arm’s length away. At this distance you could smell the remnants of his earl gray tea from this morning clinging to his clothes. Wild hair that is tamed on the sides, the cut of his cheekbone, and the hint of stubble along his jaw. 

The Doctor whizzes about the controls with flair. Pushing, pressing, and pulling controls that look indistinguishable from one another. 

“Many, many plans. Oh, (Y/N) you’re gonna love the little markets along the coast. We could go to the seafood restaurant—no, the pearl mines! So much to do and lots to show you.”

The Doctor makes his way around back to you, bumping shoulders as he did so. He turns to you, excited to expose you to yet another world. 

You give him a small smile in return. Hoping your demure expression would hide the fluttering of your heart. 

Pulling the engine lever down, you feel the familiar rumbling of the TARDIS. The two of you grab onto the railing in hopes to not fall over. The Doctor reaches for the edge of the console, bracing himself. 

You, caught up in your fawning, didn’t properly latch onto the railing and nearly toppled over. A hand yanks your arm and you collide with a wall of wool and earl gray. 

“Don’t worry I got you,” the Doctor assured, his mouth nearly kissing against your ear. 

His hand migrates from your arm to your waist, pulling you to his side. Tight and secure. The shaking continues, but you’re much too focused on how warm the Doctor seems to be. His hand firm on your side, as if it was meant to be there. Your cheek against the scratchy wool of his coat just inches away from his hearts. 

Just a friend. Only a friend.

You grasp onto his jacket even though there’s a perfectly stable railing right in front of you. 

— — —

Ordinary didn’t apply to your life, so it would only make sense it didn’t touch your love life either. 

River once again joined you and the Doctor for another adventure. Surprisingly, one that didn’t involve intergalactic battles and executing a poorly planned heist. No, she just so happened to be in New York in 2023 at the exact same pizza parlor the Doctor is dragging you to. 

In the past few months you’ve come to realize that the odd feelings in your stomach and the nervous butterflies wasn’t just spur-of-the-moment anxiety. It only manifests when you are within proximity to either the Doctor or River. Anytime they slipped past your personal bubble, you felt the simmering heat in your stomach and a dizziness whenever they got too close. You didn’t realize how the three of you would be joined at the hip until you realized something. 

You love the Doctor…and River. 

It came crawling into your mind until it was all you could think about. Moments across the years playing over and over. You loved them both for so long but you played it off as platonic. It should’ve been obvious with how you hoard their attention and do everything in your power to be near them. Their laughs, praise, and happy moments shared between you set your heart ablaze.

Only problem is that they’re already married. They weren’t secretive either. Always flirting in the face of danger. Lingering eyes and a heated kiss when things got rough. They never hid their affection towards one another.

You were never jealous of them. The ache in your chest came from the fact that they would never share that with you. You were you and they were the Doctor and River Song. They had a history long before you and they seemed more than content with each other. 

River sat in a booth in the far corner of the restaurant. The afternoon sun highlighted her golden hair like a halo. She was writing in that old diary of hers that resembles your beloved time-machine.

The Doctor walked in fast, measured steps while you tried to keep up. His hand on your back, guiding you through the people crowding around the cashier. The closer you stepped the more anxiety pools. 

River looks up from her diary with a wide grin. The one where it crinkles her eyes and makes you lose breath. 

“Hello sweetie,” she says, her words honeyed with affection. 

“Hello love,” the Doctor returns with a giddy smile. 

River’s gaze met yours. Her expression didn’t change, as if she was just as happy to see you. 

“We meet again, darling.”

Darling became her nickname for you as much as sweetie was for the Doctor. 

She’s just flirting, nothing special.

Your nails dig into your palms, “So it seems, Riv.”

The Doctor ushers you into the booth so you sit shoulder to shoulder. He rubs his hands together as he snatched a menu from the pile in the middle of the table. 

“Alright, what do we have here? Some good ol’ pepperoni, some cheese, and lovely sauce. I’m absolutely famished. Haven’t stopped to think, let alone eat something other than the ramen packets Y/N hoards,” the Doctor says. 

You snatched the menu from the Doctor, “So you were eating them! You said they could clog your arteries.”

The Doctor snatches the menu right back, “I said they could clog your arteries, not mine.”

“You made me believe I was going mad! Why couldn't you get your own?”

“‘Cause your room is closer…and less expensive.”

The two of you continue to bicker whilst the menu keeps being tugged mercilessly. Ramen packets changed to snoring habits (you were horrified that the Doctor snuck into your room when you were still in it) and the argument shifted to accusations. Most of which was you calling the Doctor a robber. The Doctor deflects and somehow blames you for being easy to rob. 

River watched the exchange with a tiniest of smiles. The Doctor with a hint of red at his ears, leaning forward. You with pinched brows and sharp words that you don't actually mean. So close the two of you were that your knees were touching and the air between was your mingled breaths. 

“Ahem,” River coughed rather obnoxiously. 

At the sound of her, the two of you ceased arguing. 

“Any louder and you’ll alert the whole parlor,” she scolds.

Luckily the busy little parlor was already loud with its many customers. Loud enough to drown the squabbling in your booth. Though the realization of how you might've looked made you and the Doctor slouch into your seats. 

River narrows her eyes, “If you're done arguing like petty school girls we could hurry up and order because I’m not sharing my food. Unless you wish to continue spilling each other's secrets for all of New York to hear.”

“Nope, we're done,” you say. You shoot her a grin in hopes to hide the fact that, yes, you will continue later.

River’s eyes shift to her husband, who avoids her stare.

“Yes, done-zo. No more arguing,” the Doctor affirms. He leaves out the “For now” at the end. 

River knows the little omissions. She doesn't voice it, instead rolling her eyes.

— — —

Lunch went by smoothly, all things considered. Food was served, pizza was eaten, and stories passed the time. The Doctor retold your fantastical adventures with some minor exaggeration (leaving out the mishaps as well). River bragged about her many archeological discoveries and Indiana Jones-esque quests to find legendary artifacts. 

As they retold, shared, and laughed at each other's fortune, you sat in your seat with sealed lips. As the time passed, the two of them leaned forward with biting grins. It was as if magnets in their chests pulled them nearer. 

You stayed put because in place of a magnet was a lump of sorrow that was weighing you down. You watched their banter go on and on, leaving you out. Their words turned personal, intimate with inside jokes. It was clear that although River and the Doctor weren't exclusive by any means, their love runs deeper than most. 

Their love for each other ran deeper, felt stronger only for them. 

Not for you. 

It hurts to watch them. It hurts to love them knowing they will never feel the same. You’re just a temporary blip in their long lives. They already have one another. Perfectly content with having you just as a companion. Because that’s all you are to them. In this moment, trapped in your bubble, you can see just how in love they are. In the middle of the table their hands are inches away from each other. The tips of their hands moving at a snail's pace towards the other, until they fold in where they meet. They don’t seem to notice the collision of hands, still conversing with one another nonchalantly. 

It’s an innocent gesture. Sweet and pure with its intentions. Perfectly their hands fit, you don’t think they could form against yours. They were perfect for one another. Witty mouths, playful eyes, and brilliant minds. 

Husband and wife. Vowed for one another. 

Your eyes don’t leave their hands, transfixed by your own spell of deep longing. 

The Doctor laughs at something River says. It’s a soft chuckle that pulls his lips and shakes his head. River stares unabashed with eyes so full of love that it tugs the strings in your chest. 

It makes you sick.

“I need to use the bathroom,” you blurt out. You felt too close, too warm in the booth. You need to get away from them both. 

The Doctor and River glance at one another. A pointed look that could hold entire conversations. Moments ticked by before the Doctor scoots out of his seat to let you pass. You all but sprinted out of the booth and made a bee-line to the bathroom. 

It was a small, dank space with dark brown walls and one lighting fixture in the middle of the ceiling. The harsh lighting and tight space was far from cozy and inviting, but you are glad to have made it out. Your breathing became more shallow, tears started to burn into your eyes. You stare into the warped reflection in the mirror. 

Tiredness smudges around your eyes. Your lower lip is cracked from the constant tugging and swiping of your tongue. Edges of your shirt wrinkled from how tightly you were holding onto it. 

You don’t know how long you stared at yourself. Lines around your face blur as the tears start to flow. Down your face, into the valleys of cheeks, and into the porcelain sink. Another falls, then another, until you can’t help but sob into your hand. 

— — —

Minutes tick by. The pizza being shared was now specks of crumbs. 

Your companions sit idly, waiting for your return. 

“Is it just me, or is (Y/N) a bit quiet today?” the Doctor mused, looking behind him to see the closed door of the bathroom. The red sticker on the lock gnaws at his mind. 

River rubs her thumb over the Doctor’s hand, “Why don’t you ask her? She’s your companion.”

The Doctor turns back to her, “Why don’t you ask her? Everytime I see you two, you can’t keep your hands off one another.”

His words don’t have any malice. If anything, it was more of a jab at how horribly River hides her affinity towards you. Always doting on you with small trinkets and tight hugs. The soft drawl of her “darling” seemed much too intimate, too loving to be platonic. 

River’s smile is sharp, her words quick, “Says the man who whimpers whenever she wears a tight dress.”

As quick as her words came, the image of you a week ago floods his mind. 

Silk gloves, the shine of your skin, the color of your lipstick. It was a gala out in a different galaxy and the Doctor found it hard to resist your puppy eyes. 

You begged him to dress up, to match with your dress. He mutters, whines, and begrudgingly says yes. Not because he didn’t want to go, but because he knew of the outcome of seeing your dress. 

A deep blue, nearly black, with delicate lacing and gemstones. Simple, lavish, and complimented your body beautifully. The neckline perfectly snug against your chest, bodice hugging your waist, and when you turned around—

The whole of the Doctor’s face flushes a bright pink. He sputters, tone harsh, “I do not. It’s called being flustered. I’ll have you know that I—stop laughing.”

The Doctor’s plea falls on deaf ears as River let out a choked giggle. Her hand covers her mouth, but the edges of her smile still peek through. Seeing the Doctor flustered over a girl never fails to make her laugh. 

“I was…only teasing!” she let out between giggles. The expression the Doctor made, all grumpy like a cat, made her sides hurt. 

The laughter dies down. River dabs her eyes and massages her tired cheeks. The Doctor’s hearts swells at her joy, even if it was at his own expense. 

The Doctor looks over his shoulder once more. Your door is still locked with no one in line. An uneasy feeling lodges in his chest. Your usual bright, happy attitude was strangely absent. A few times you chimed in, relaying your own version of a story the Doctor purposefully miscounted. 

You weren’t sad, at least the Doctor didn’t seem to think so. Empty was a more appropriate word. Stuck in your own head thinking God knows what. 

“Did you hold up your end?”

River’s questions shocked the Doctor out of his own thoughts.

The Doctor narrows his eyes, “I don’t recall making a bargain with you. I thought we agreed that if we were drunk that it doesn’t count.”

River rolls her eyes, “I’m talking about (Y/N). I told you to talk to her about…” she gestures to the space between them. 

The Doctor mimics her movements, confusion still present in his face, “What’s this? What did I agree to?”

“Us! You agreed to talk to (Y/N) about us. You told me that you would drop hints about it,” River scans the Doctor’s face for any recognition. She sees the realization dawn on him, and the guilt settling in. River can’t help but curl her lips into a snarl, “You didn’t do it, did you?”

“How am I supposed to?” he threw his hands up in exasperation, “It’s bad enough as it is that I get all light-headed and fuzzy when she’s near me. You hear me? Light-headed and fuzzy. I didn’t think that was possible—no I was certain it wasn’t possible. At least with you, you made all the moves from the get-go. What if she doesn’t like me back?’

River shoved her leg under the table, earning a strained “ow” from the Doctor, “You stupid oaf! Of course she likes you! Smartest man in the universe, yet you couldn’t use your big brain of yours to notice her signals? A cyberman could figure it out for goodness sake.”

The Doctor slumped back into his chair, dumbfounded. He would be lying if he said he didn't notice how close you were with him. But you're close with everyone. Always friendly, open with your emotions. 

River was the one to bring up a potential relationship. Nudging the Doctor towards you, trying to get him to open up. Every time he mentions anything romantic, it never seems to come out right. Words jumble in his head and his tongue knots in his mouth. On the off chance he does something “romantic”, you would always—unwaveringly—call him a friend. He has to pretend that the word doesn’t make his teeth grind against each other. 

The Doctor swirls the colored straw in his glass of soda. The ice clinking against glass and the residual carbonation sizzling out. 

Ice. Cracking. Sizzling out into the inky depths of the cola, almost black in the dim lighting.

Something in his brain clicks.  

— — —

10 minutes passed before someone banged on the bathroom door. 

“Can you hurry up man! You’re holdin’ up the line!” an angry, muffled voice yelled. 

You furiously wiped your face, collecting all the remaining tears with paper towels. A couple splashes of water to soothe your puffy eyes before you unlock the bathroom. You were greeted with a cross, stout man with too much hair on his chest and not enough on his head. He grumbled something before making his way around you. No one else stood behind him. 

The restaurant died down with only a few tables left occupied and the setting sun spilling through the windows. You drag yourself towards the booth the Doctor and River were situated in. Your steps get slower as the distance gets shorter. Dread builds into you; your mind conjures the image of their exclusion towards you. 

Voices, familiar and warm, could be heard. They were more hushed than before, perhaps due to the lack of other customers to drown out their noise. As you round a corner, you see River and the Doctor hunched towards one another. You can only see River’s stern expression before her eyes immediately spot you. Relief sags her shoulders. At her expression, the Doctor whizzed around to greet you. 

You stopped in front of them, seeing their ruffled clothes and fidgeting body language. You were gone for a few minutes, so why did they look…disheveled? River’s usual glossy curls were frizzy around the edges; wild strands sticking to and fro. The Doctor’s shirt looked wrinkled and bowtie skewed at an odd angle. 

Did they…? No, you weren’t gone for that long.

“Sorry I took so long. Long line and no toilet paper,” you lie with a monotone voice. You didn’t put any energy into making it believable, hoping they would get the hint to not question you. 

The Doctor sprang up from his seat with an expression that seemed much too happy to be innocent.  

“Change of plans. River had just informed me that at this very moment, there is a comet passing by in—” he checks his watch, “ —Yosemite, California. Super beautiful, gorgeous color. Isn’t that right Riv?”

River nods, fast and eager, “Sure is, sweetie. I’ve had enough of the city, wouldn’t you say?”

Their odd behavior rang alarm bells in your mind. A prank? You doubt River would be the type to follow along with a malicious prank. The Doctor, however…

You let out an exhausted sigh, “Could this wait later? Tomorrow?”

“Nope! Can’t wait, lots to see!” came the Doctor’s reply. 

The Doctor placed his hands on your shoulders to steer you to the front door. Your feet nearly tangle together, practically stumbling down the empty street with River not too far behind. You find your footing just fast enough so that you can speed walk without the Doctor trying to knock you over. 

“Guys, slow down. Doctor, I can walk just fine y’know,” your shoe gets caught onto a piece of sidewalk, making you jump slightly. It doesn’t deter the Doctor, still hellbent on shoving you down the street. You turn to your side, eyeing River, “Could you please explain to me what’s going on? Why are you guys acting weird?”

River’s cherry red lips stretched to a smile (Did she just apply it?), “Spoilers.”

Your friends’ odd behaviors made you question if you’re being kidnapped by shapeshifters. Not an impossible scenario, but would explain why they’re suddenly so hyper. The Doctor made a sharp turn into an alley. You see the TARDIS with its vibrant blue against the red brick of the buildings beside it. 

Something’s wrong. 

“The TARDIS was parked a few streets down. Why is it here?” you questioned, distrust lacing your voice. 

The Doctor sent a worried look towards River, who looked caught off-guard. 

“We…thought it was best to move it closer so you didn’t have to walk far,” River explains. It comes out quickly. Too rushed and uneasy to make it truthful. 

The Doctor gave a smile, too wide for your liking. 

You cross your arms over your chest, “If you don’t spit it out already I’m not getting into the TARDIS. I’m honestly a bit freaked out right now.”

“We, uh…” the Doctor moves his hand, trying to come up with something, “We can’t tell you.”

You scoff, looking at River to see if she will spill. 

River shrugs, “You’ll have to come inside the TARDIS to see.”

You wrestle with the idea of accusing them of being aliens with perception filters. It could explain their odd appearance and eagerness to get you to the TARDIS. Were the real Doctor and River Song trapped somewhere. Is this a trick of the mind? 

The Doctor hand tugs yours. Secure and warm. His expression calms, “It’s a surprise,” he indulges. 

River unlocks the TARDIS, holding the door open, “A big one.”

The Doctor and River take your hands, interlocking them. The action sends your mind blank. Soft, warm. They hold tightly, flushed against your clammy palms. Your heart stutters, finally registering what’s happening. You’ve held their hands many, many times. It wasn’t unusual to see you link hands with either of them. 

This. It feels different. 

They all but pulled you inside, the destination already on display and the engine ready to go. 

— — —

Cool air kissed your face, greatly contrasting the warm New York temperature. Grass met your feet instead of concrete. Stillness you’d always associate with nature instead of the bustle of busy streets. 

“Is the blindfold really necessary?” 

You fight the instinct to rip the cloth off your face, but your hands are preoccupied with being held by your companions. River to your left, the Doctor on your right. Their other hands find the small of your back, guiding you forward. 

“Almost there, darling,” River assures. 

You bite back a groan. One foot in front of the other as best as you could. Each one was wobbly; unsure of debris blocking your path. The hands along your back tighten, trying to steer your uncoordinated body towards the destination. 

You smell the familiar scent of firewood in the air before you hear the crackling.  

The walking stops and hands leave your body. You hear the rustling of fabric and stray giggles of the Doctor. River hushes him. 

Your fingers twitch at your side. The cotton of the Doctor’s bow tie is soft yet strangely secure on your head. You're trying to piece together what they’re trying to show you. Nothing seems to add up. Is it a holiday? A prank? Was it a birthday?

You hear footsteps and feel two hands on your shoulders. 

“Keep your eyes close, yeah?” the Doctor whispers, tugging his bow tie off your eyes. 

You sigh, “Doctor, what are you trying to do?”

The Doctor doesn’t respond. You don’t know his facial expression or any sort of clue towards his motivations. But you feel the gentle hold of his hand. Warm palms picking up your fingers, thumb tracing the peaks of your knuckles and the valleys of your skin. 

Almost like…

“Ready,” River announced, a bit distant from where you are standing. 

The Doctor leans close, his hair tickling your temple, “Open your eyes.”

It took you a few blinks to adjust your eyes. The inky darkness of night contrasts the warm, inviting fire light. 

River stands next to a picnic blanket with the most lush pillows you’ve ever seen. Movie snacks are piled in the corner and in the middle a neatly wrapped box with an obnoxious bow. In front of the picnic blanket was a small, orange fire surrounded by a ring of rocks. The flames crackle loudly, providing warmth against the lowering temperature. 

“What…How? Why?” Was all you could muster. You take a few steps closer, unsure of how to process this. 

You focus on the box. Dark wrapping paper with shining gold stars to accent. The flickering fire made the glitter on the stars twinkle. The bow nearly swallowed the top of the box with ribbons cascading down. Your eyes flicker to the pile of snacks. Your favorite snacks. Even some ramen packets. 

The Doctor spoke up, “Hope you’re not too full from the pizza. Though, come to think of it, we may have left the drinks back in the TARDIS. River suggested wine but I’m already buzzed from my own endorphins.” His words were a bit fast, almost nervous. 

“But why? Is there something special about today?” you ask. 

River smiled, “November, 1826.”

There’s something familiar about the date. It tickled your memory, but nothing clear. 

“Our first adventure together. The three of us,” The Doctor clarified. 

It felt as though the Doctor’s words swept all air from your lungs. Of course, how could you forget? 

You are certain it was years ago. Keeping track of time on the TARDIS is finicky at best, but you felt the time pass as evident by the scars on your skin and fine lines dotting your face. You were still wide-eyed and naive, not yet comprehending the dangers of the universe. The Doctor was still odd and new to be around; still getting used to your presence at his side. 

There was a galactic cruise ship, nearly swallowing Pluto in size. Parts of the memory are hazy in your mind. You forget if it’s you that urged the Doctor to go or the Doctor dragging you out. Whatever the case was, you found yourself onboard and immediately lost, tipsy from the wine given. 

River found you then. It wasn’t ‘til later that you realized that River was actually seeking you out. In your eyes, it was the first time seeing her. To her, she had already had a tone of familiarity when your name rolled off her tongue. 

Turns out River had organized a heist to return stolen goods that were aboard the cruise ship. Fighting and mishaps ensued until the Doctor managed to hoard the goods aboard the TARDIS and return them to their rightful spots. 

At the end of it all, the three of you had just so happened to be above the Earth at the same time as Biela’s comet. 

You remember your legs dangling off the edge of the TARDIS, dark splotches along your legs where bruises formed. The Doctor and River lean against the doorframe, silent in their awe. The first of many mishaps and adventures the three of you would create. 

They took you to the exact day—the exact time—

“Why?” you whispered. Everything came rushing all at once. Stolen glances, longing stares, the uncomfortable beat of your heart. Memories of the three of you or just intimate moments with either of them. You swallow the lump in your throat, “I just…don’t understand.”

The Doctor took your hands once again. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. 

“We love you (Y/N). For a while now, actually.” 

His delicate words hit you like a gust of wind. Your head snapped up, eyes wide and fearful. The Doctor’s usual happy facade is gone, any humor wiped from the planes of his face entirely. His hands grip onto yours a bit harder, enough to ground you. 

After a few moments, your brain finally stills. Anxiety still grips your muscles and tightens your chest, but you manage to sputter your thoughts out coherently. 

“I love you guys too,” you grin against the onset of tears starting to fall. You didn’t move your hands from the Doctor’s, so you simply let them cascade down your face. You shakily inhaled, continuing, “For so long I thought you guys wouldn’t feel the same. Even now…”

Two hands appear at your cheeks, thumbs swiping away the salty tears. The Doctor smiles and you don’t mistake the glisten in his eyes as well. 

You turn towards River who stands near the blankets with the present pressed tightly against herself. The fire gives her golden hair a bright orange hue, surrounding her with a divine glow. The way she looks at you made your skin flushed; so full of adoration, as if you were the most breath-taking sight. 

Stepping towards the blond with the Doctor, you try to meet her gaze head-on. You stopped once you got close enough to see the dilation of her eyes. For a second a flicker of something else flashed in her green eyes. 

“Breathe, darling,” she teased. At her command, you let out the breath you were holding. She hands you the box, never breaking eye-contact, “Consider it an anniversary gift.” 

The choice of words makes your eyes widen. The box seemed a bit hefty in your hands. You gave it an experimental shake, feeling something large and solid moving. You gripped the end of the ribbon and gave it a tug. Silky ribbon buckled, folding into itself until it completely unraveled and slipped from the box. Pulling open the top you saw a large blue book nestled inside. 

TARDIS blue, you noted. 

River takes the empty box while the Doctor ushered you onto the picnic blanket. There were no words embellished that gave any indication as to what the book was about. Flipping the cover open, you were met with a mostly blank page, save for the text stamped in the middle:

“For the love of our many lives. A companion, friend, and most importantly, the reason the Universe doesn’t seem so cold.” 

Tears nearly blurred your vision, but you managed to wipe them away to flip to the next page. 

A collage of photos filled the pages. Some were candid, others in black in white, most of them had you in them. There were pictures you had captured on an old film camera you snagged when you were stuck in the 70s. You were quite surprised to see snapshots of you doing mundane activities. Your head was turned away from the lens, completely focused on some task in front of you. There were a few pictures with you and River and some with all three of you. 

Years of memories stored in the pages of the book. Some far back to the earliest days of your travels. 

The rest of the night blurred into happy tears and hearty laughs. You snuggled between the two Time Lords flipping through the photo album filled with your fondest memories. 

The insecurities felt in the cramped bathroom in the middle of New York seemed so far away. Years of anxiety curdling in your stomach finally bloomed into something sweet. They loved you. They wanted you. They planned everything out for you. You felt it in their gaze, their warm touches. 

“Tonight,” the Doctor whispered, “It’s all about you.”

As Biela made her visit, shining brightly amongst the twinkling stars, you realized that somewhere out in the sky, your past selves were observing the same scene. 

Staring out into the vast expanse of space, you hoped the love that swelled your heart could be felt millions of miles away. That your shared laughter transcended the atmosphere and carried to the passengers of the TARDIS floating above Earth. 

You hoped that somewhere out there, your future selves are looking over, sharing this experience across time and space. 

[thinkdoctorriver]

And die with a smile

[expectiations]

text posts: Doctor + River version [1/?]

[thelibraryofalexandriastillburns]

[sunnyy3d]

Hi again

Ok so I am currently obsessed with Matt smith and Alex Kingston so I wanted to know if you would write a 11th/river/reader fanfic where the reader is a companion that just started travelling with them but for some reason she is immortal and always finds them but she doesn’t totally understand how the meeting keeps happening between them all so she just jumped from a new tune where she was happily married to the doctor and river but now she meets river/melody who doesn’t know her yet and she gets jealous bc she over heard them talking about another girl(her just younger) and it leads to the doctor having to explain to her that they aren’t at that time yet and river gifts her a journal so she can write down where and how they keep meeting hopefully this makes enough sense and you would want to write it I just want some fluff/cuteness along with confusion on time travel

Timeless Love| 11th Doctor x River x Reader

A/N: Requests open! (Obviously)

God, I'm so nauseous. Will I ever get used to that? I really wish that I had my own TARDIS; it'd be so much better than a vortex manipulator. The Doctor calls it "cheap and nasty time travel," and he's not wrong. Of course, I'll never let him know that, though.

I let the dizziness subside before opening my eyes. I'm facing a wall? I've gotta go through the checklist. Okay, first is smell. It smells... old? Like antiques and dust. Why is smell first anyway? The second is hearing. I hear sirens, which leads to the next part: sight. To go with the sirens, I see a red flashing light coming from a bulb farther up the wall. That's always a good sign! Last but not least, the 360. Well, it's more like a 180, but that's beside the point. I spin only to find a gun pointed at my head. My smile immediately drops, the excitement of being in a new environment being replaced with dread. What have I gotten myself into this time?

"Oi, don't touch the fez! Wait, no, don't take it," I hear from behind the brute holding the gun.

"Don't listen to him. Please take the fez," I'd recognize those voices from anywhere. Especially the sarcasm... It only makes sense that they're around when I find myself in trouble. I can't let myself get distracted; this is a life-or-death situation. Just do what The Doctor taught you. Be rational and observe.

Peering past the gun, I see a creature I've never seen before in my time with The Doctor. This thing is enormous, at least a foot or two taller than me. They (it?) have on a suit of armor--similar to what would be found back on Earth-- that obscures its face. Maybe it's a security guard? It would make sense, considering that behind it are glass cases that hold artifacts.

Regardless, this creature's sheer size means I can't fight it. At least not successfully. That throws all of the self-defense skills River taught me out of the window. I really wish she was here. Oh wait... she is. I'll just have to play the innocent card. It shouldn't be hard, considering that I am innocent. I put my hands up beside my head as a sign of surrender, careful to go at a speed that's not threatening. "I just got here, I swear. I have no idea what's going on," I reason. I have a feeling that it's not gonna work well.

"Oh, look who it is! Where have you been?" Looking past the guard, I spot The Doctor and River being led in by another guard.

I sigh, "It's not what it looks like."

"It's exactly what it looks like!" The Doctor interrupts with his stupid smile.

"Honey, can you shut please? I kinda have a gun in my face right now," I plead.

"Oh right..."

"Excuse me, sir?" River distracts the guard in front of me.

"We're going to have to ask you to put that gun down. Darling, you might want to duck." Without even thinking, I follow her instructions. I trust River and The Doctor with my life. What kind of wife would I be otherwise? Being stuck between the wall and the fight, I have no choice but to crawl away.

I'm hiding behind one of the cases when The Doctor comes around the corner, disheveled and panting. It's a good look at him. His hair is messy before he runs a hand through it and flashes his signature smile. God, I could kiss him. But now's not the time. We're in the middle of a fight. I say we, but I really mean River. "What are you doing?" I yell.

"I could ask you the same thing!" Loud shots hit the walls around us. I peek around the corner and see two more guards have shown up as reinforcement.

A bullet flies past my head, and I quickly take my retreat behind the case. "Look! We'll have to save this conversation for after we get out of whatever situation you got us into this time. River needs help." The Doctor gives me an offended look.

"River does NOT need help, no thanks to you guys," she says sarcastically.

The Doctor and I come out from behind the case. "What are you guys even doing here?" I ask with my hands on my hips.

"Uhh... we're picking something up," The Doctor answers nervously. I nod, my lips drawing into a thin line as I give him a skeptical hum. It's probably not worth questioning, and I probably won't get a straight answer.

"And you are?" River questions, looking me up and down. Even after being with her for a while, I still get butterflies when she looks at me like that.

But the butterflies are scooped up by my confusion. "What do you mean, River? We've been-"

"SPOILERS," The Doctor interjects. "If you'll just give us a moment, please?" I nod as he drags River away. They huddle together with their backs facing me. Clearly, I'm not supposed to hear this conversation, but it doesn't stop me from trying. Unfortunately, they're just out of earshot, so I can only hear a few words.

Focusing on their conversation, I piece together some parts. "She's... beautiful... amazing... younger... she's like..." The Doctor explains with expressive hands. Occasionally, River glances back at me with a smile.

Who are they talking about like that? It has to be someone special. Why else would they keep it a secret from me? More importantly, why is River saying she doesn't know me? Has she had her memory wiped? Clearly, The Doctor knows who I am, but he's also acting weird. What has happened to our marriage? Did all of the intimate moments that we shared go down the drain? All the adventures forgotten?

I'm so lost in thought that it takes me a second to realize that they've finished their conversation and have started walking back towards me. I quickly stand straight, suddenly incredibly self conscious. I cross my arms and frown, "So, who's this mystery woman and why did you have to talk about her in secret?" I know my words reek of jealousy, but I can't help it. We've been married for so long, and yet here they are talking about some other woman.

The Doctor sighs, thinking about how he should respond. "We were talking about you. I know it might not make too much sense right now, but River and I aren't in the same timeline as you."

"This is actually my first time meeting you, I'm afraid. Though I'm sure it won't be the last," River looks me up and down with a smirk. I blush and look away. Even if this is her first time meeting me, she still has to flirt.

Everything is starting to make sense now. All of the times when The Doctor or River thought that they had done something with me but hadn't. Or when they'd forget simple things. It's not that they forgot; it just hadn't happened to them yet. Why didn't I think of this before? And why hadn't they explained this to me earlier? Why does time have to be so complicated?

"This happens all of the time with me and River. It's honestly quite annoying to figure out," The Doctor chuckles.

"You know, that actually makes a lot of sense. Things are starting to come together now. That explains why you guys are so confusing sometimes. Sorry, extra confusing sometimes." The couple laughs before River holds up her finger, saying hold on and grabbing her bag off her back. She rummages through it momentarily before letting out a small 'aha.' I look at The Doctor with my eyebrows scrunched in confusion. He only shrugs. River pulls out what she was looking for. I see a look of recognition flash across The Doctor's face before I can tell what it is.

"Here," she holds out a book. It's a royal blue and has squares on it like the TARDIS. It looks naturally worn, its deckled pages ready to hold a story. "I have a smiliar journal. I use it to keep track of my encounters with this idiot. Maybe you can do the same?" She suggests with a warm smile.

From this distance, I can see how young she is. Though she doesn't look much different, her eyes tell a different story. They have more youth to them, more innocence. Let's be honest: River has never truly been innocent. But she is more innocent than the River that I know best. I smile as I take the journal in my hands. It's perfect. It'll be easy to carry around, and it is absolutely gorgeous.

So much has yet to come for The Doctor and River, both terrible and happy. And even though I have lived through things that they haven't, they have lived through things that I haven't. This book will hold stories that cannot be shared with the ones I love the most. If I were to share it, it could ruin everyone's timeline. Time is a delicate balance of... wibbly, wobbly, timey, wimey... stuff. Okay, I'll admit that wasn't the most eloquent I have been, but it'll have to do.

With a smile, I look up at my husband and wife (well, future for them), "Thank you. I have a feeling that I'll be using this a lot."

[lotus-ignis]

lotus! I need some of your favourite 14/river fics, or honestly any of your favourite river/doctor fics!! I wanna get into my hyperfixation again in time for the Christmas special!

Ana 💕

You, Ana, have opened the pandoras box (aka my bookmarks) with this ask. This could become a bit long because a. I am a chatterbox, and b. I have little to no idea what your fic preferences are, so I'll just recommend you a bunch and hope that my taste in fics at least vaguely aligns with yours. Here we go:

*= Smut

°= Fix it

14 x River:

*This phantom life sharpens like an image (but it sharpens like a knive) This is the perfect fic. It isn't finished yet, and I'm honestly not sure anymore if it's a fix it or not, but it is great.

°In thee I delight A sweet little outsider!pov fic. Just something nice for the soul.

°It must be light wherever you are More of a multi-Doctor fic really (not at once), but there's some fourteen at the end.

13 x River:

°I'm Alive A short trilogy for when you need something funny and sweet.

°Love is not an emotion, it's a promise Again, multiple Doctors, but mainly 13. The Doctor refers to River as their 'little goddess'.

°5 Times The Doctor Talked About River Song With Graham (+1 Time The Fam Finally Met Her) It's in the title really. Very emotional. (Not as in sad necessarily, there are simply a lot of emotions).

°i am the distance you put between all of the moments that we will be Very lovely fic. Angstier than I thought tbh. So definetly something for when you want pain and longing. Has a happy ending though.

°You Know Who You Are and Yes You're Gonna Break Down This one's fun. They flirt, they dance, the Doctor's being gay... a bit of angst towards the end, but it gets resolved rather swiftly.

Of Handcuffs and Custard Creams Pure hilarity for when you need something to laugh about.

°she's got a smile that heals me Fix it happiness with a dash of angst and yearning, very sweet.

understanding I'm not sure how to describe this one. It is not necessarily Yaz bashing, it's just a lot of unrequited love. Very nice for when you're feeling vindictive after having to guess on every second fic on whether or not they're going to have the Doctors and Rivers marriage be open to sprinkle in some thasmin.

12 x River:

she blows out of nowhere, roman candle of the wild Human Au. Twelve is stood up on a date and River saves him. Banter and love at first sight ensure.

The Playwright and his muse Human Au. Twelve is a playwright in victorian(?) England, River Melody becomes his muse. A beautiful trilogy.

*But she prefers two lumps of sugar and tea Human Au. Twelve is the most grumpy barista that the world has ever seen, River does not put up with it. He immediatly falls in love, yet continues to be an idiot.

°Are we dancing after death, you and I? River gave the Doctor her regeneration energy, he becomes downright addicted. Angst, yearning, sweetness.

°I use the stars to find you This is just fluff and sapiness and domesticity. Like a long, warm, comforting hug.

*And if I get burned, at least we were electrified Sweet, hot smut. Twelve grows a beard.

*The voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses River has a praise kink. Very hot, and more emotional than it sounds. (Again, emotional does not mean sad. It just means... emotional).

Writing between the lines Have you ever wondered what elevens regeneration would've been like with River around? Well, wonder no longer! Here it is.

11 x River:

*°And all in war with Time for love of you The very first Doctorriver fic I ever read. A beautiful fix-it fic.

*though my eyes stare inward now at where you were Such a great fic. I won't spoil much because the riddle of it all is half the fun the first time around (for me it was, at least).

°Hold infinity in the palm of your hand The Doctor and River post dying. Very fun, very sweet. They're just so married (literally).

*heart swells like water A rewrite (or write along?) of 'Day of the moon' that fills in all the smutty gaps.

gazing into the abyss The Doctor has the last of the Mr. Clever residues fucked out of him by River. Very hot. River literally manages to seduce a robot. Not that we ever doubted her capability to do that.

To force them apart This might very well not be your cup of tea. I have a weakness for dark!Doctorriver.

°moved from day into night to be near you Steven Moffat had a very specific vision of how he wanted River and the Doctors story to end completly. This vision is sadly not canon. This vision is this fic.

Sharing Names This fic is amazing. It forever ingrained the headcanon in me that time lord names are telepathic.

Accomplice A fun little drabble. Hints of dark!Doctorriver.

a love that even time will lie down and be still for This one is so sweet! The Doctor is everything little Mels wanted in a partner.

and i'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways Human AU. River is very much in love with one John Smith. This one has a bit of everything. Fluff, flirting, angst...

10 x River:

*competition This one's a (very hot) revenge on the Doctorrose shippers who put works in the Doctorriver tags that are very mean to River. Maybe not your cup of tea.

9 x River:

°*Where I've been It's been a while since I've read this one, but I remember that it was incredible, so there's that.

Worth living for River helps the Doctor heal after the time war. Very sweet, if I remember correctly.

Multi-Doctor x River:

All in Your Head There are three Doctors (+ companions) in the TARDIS at once. River decides to be a telepathic tease. Very, very funny.

°Glad We're Here This is one of the funniest fics I've ever read. There are two Doctors (technically three, but thirteen misses the main action) and two Rivers. Lot's of timey wimey shenanigans ensue. It is so funny.

°*There is a love I reminisce This fic is wonderful. It includes eleven and eight and mentions a lot of the Doctorriver encounters featured in the audioplays. I'll admit, the ending somewhat confuses me, but that's probably nothing that couldn't be fixed with a reread. Lots of timey-wimey stuff.

Energy for a lot of words, but not for a long story (Oneshot collections):

The myth of us never ends 100 stories

You taught me how to love when nobody ever could 15 stories

It's called Marriage, Honey 70 stories

Recommended Authors for even more fics:

Del (godessdel) Their writing is just beautiful. Everything they write is so beautiful.

flowingtune Has great story ideas. Also writes lots of thoschody, if that is your jam. Lots of timetots.

mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday) So. Many. Great. Au's!

melodypond_thewomanwhomarriedme (sexymonk) Has lots of fun stories and Au's.

HellNHighHeels I had one fic of the bookmarked and just checked them out to see if I should put them on the list. I haven't read much of them, but their stories sound like great fun.

TheWifeofRiverSong If you ever feel like reading the hottest smut, they're the author for you.

hihoplastic Their fics are good. I never noticed just how many Doctorriver fics of theirs I have in my bookmarks until now.

[cakeraa]

this song hits diff when you're reading the part where james gets mad at regulus for taking his place even though they promised. it breaks my heart into pieces