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nope-we-are-friends-now · 5 years ago

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Soulmate AU

Reposted because I accidentally deleted it.

Title: Traveled the Universe Just to Meet You.

Tenth Doctor x Gender Neutral Reader, featuring Donna Noble

A/N: This fic took three weeks in total to write; the first 3,600 words took two days to write and the last 700 words took two of the three weeks. hahahaha…….why?

Also, I wanted to add more like include adventures and develop the readers and the Doctors relationship but it was already too long. Thinking about writing a part 2 but I also have a few other fics I wanna write soo…

Word count: 5070

Soulmate. Someone who understands, believes in, and inspires you. Someone once a stranger becomes a person you can’t imagine live without.

As children, a soulmate’s presence isn’t all there. A numbness resides in the Soullux, the organ that handles feeling one’s soulmate. In childhood, it isn’t mature enough to project one’s soulmate emotions. But, every so often a child would feel something like a light breeze on a hot summer day. The phenomenal sensation of stretching after waking up. The feeling one gets after cleaning out their room.

You were a bit different from other children. See, you were born with Lonely Soul syndrome, a disease that affects one out of 14,530,000 people. Now, this syndrome doesn’t mean you don’t have a soulmate. You were born with your Soullux fully formed, meaning you constantly felt your soulmate. Doctors gave it such a saddening name because of the effects. Children suffering from this often are forced to mature earlier, they struggle with emotions, and experience periods of desolation. Doctors recommend therapy and if needed, medicine.

You were five when you went to your first soul therapy session. Your family didn’t think you needed it, seeing as you were a typical child. Happy some days, moody others, but they promised you a present after the appointment, so you went.

The therapist’s room was bright. There were small toys on small shelves, posters with words you couldn’t quite read, but knew you’ve seen before. On the ground was a rug with houses and roads on it, you thought it was cool.

The therapist walks into the room and smiles at you, “Did you find a toy you like, Y/n?” She asks, she only just told you her name, yet you forgot it and didn’t want to make her feel sad, so you didn’t ask. Instead, you nod and point at the Lego box sitting on the rug.

You were building a house when she speaks again, “how are you, Y/N?”

“I’m sad.” The therapist said earlier that you could talk to her about anything that was on your mind, so you did.

“Do you know why?” She’s sitting on the rug with you. It’s odd, adults don’t sit on the ground and they certainly don’t play with Legos. You decide she wasn’t an adult, just a big kid.

You’re not sure what to say so you let your mouth run, “My soulmate,” you begin. With the blue house finished, you start to reach for the Lego people, “isn’t an animal.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she does hand you the last Lego person. With the perfect amount of people around the house, you start to work on a car. Cars have always been difficult for you to build.

“It sucks. I heard that some people have animals as their soulmates and I was hoping I would too. But I don’t.” You huffed.

“Why would you want an animal as a soulmate?”

Shocked with disbelief you dropped a Lego piece. Maybe she really was an adult? “Because animals are cool. At first, I wanted them to be a horse, ‘cause that would be awesome, but then I realized that if they were a cat or dog then I could cuddle with them every night.” Excitement washes over you. Yet, when reality hits, you feel like the car you stopped building, unfinished and misshaped.

“Well, who says you can’t cuddle with your soulmate?”

“Pets have fur. That means they’re always warm and soft. People don’t have fur.”

“Y/n,” She says softly, you like the sound of her voice. It’s not wheezy like your neighbor, Ms. Henson’s nor is it high-pitched like your babysitter. “Do you like to cuddle with from your family members?”

“Yeah,”

“So, why do you think it’s different from your soulmate?”

Well, you think, my family always acts weird when I talk about them. You’re not sure why though, your soulmate feels like blowing dandelions and eating your favorite fruit. What could be so wrong about that? You don’t tell your therapist that though. “Maybe,” you start hesitantly, when she nods her head, you’re back to being excited, “maybe we could get a pet too? Then I could cuddle with both at the same time.”

“Maybe,” She agrees with you, “Y/n, that’s a lot of people at the blue house. Do you think we should build them another house?” Looking at the blue house you see the eight people surrounding it.

“No.”

It happened after dinner. At first, you didn’t know what it was, you only knew it was something coming from your soulmate. Lately, your soulmate has been like an ocean, waves of strong emotions crash down on you. It leaves you wanting to crawl into bed and stay there all day. Every time it happens you could hear your family whispering through the door. You knew it wasn’t normal, but you couldn’t control it.

You head to your room and shut the door. Everyone always found out when you have an ‘episode’, but sometimes you could hide how long it went on. You expected it to be the same as the other times. This, however, was nothing like you ever experienced before.

It starts with a spicy taste in your mouth. A ringing in your ears. Underneath your skin, something wants liberation. You try to hold it in, but it burns.

You blink and the next thing you know your bedroom is a wreck.

On the floor near your desk was a torn paper with a smiley face. Bending down you picked up the paper to see that it was your math test. You had practice from the moment you came home until dinnertime for it. You didn’t ace it, but it was the highest grade you got so far, and you were so proud you put a smiley face on it. It was ripped up into three pieces. Really, it wasn’t a big deal. You were only seven years old and you would have many other tests this year alone, let alone for the rest of your academic life. It isn’t a big deal. So, why were you kneeling on the ground with tears blurring your vision? Why were your hands wrapped around yourself, silent snivels escaping you? Why were you pressing your face to the floor in hopes that your family wouldn’t hear? If it wasn’t a big deal, why does it hurt so much?

Someone opens up your door and gasps. They hold you as you try to remember how to breathe.

(Afterward, they help you tape up your test and you wonder if taping your heart back together will be as easy.)

They hand you a broom along with trash bags and tell you to face the consequences of your actions.

Bed overturned, clothes ripped apart, posters and old homework assignments shredded up.

The burning sensation lessens to a simmer and you’re left all alone.

With a look, around the room you think, Anger. This is what anger looks like.

Months pass by, and you grew an inch. The sun brings heat and with it comes water balloon fights and laughter. With a group of classmates, you compare birthmarks and scars. With the sun shining down on you, you think, happiness is bright.

You had finished brushing your teeth and were pulling silly faces and grinning at the mirror. That’s when you felt it. This new emotion is bitter and cold.

The you in the mirror starts to glare at you, baring their teeth like a wild animal. They mouth words that feel like ice water. “Stop it,” you say, “go away.” You glare back and mirror you smiles. “You’re my reflection. If I leave, you’ll be nothing.”

Mirror you silently laughs at you and you punch them. “I hate you.” You shout. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate-” You punch at the mirror repeatedly and mirror you starts to bleed. The glass shatters. A piece of the mirror slightly larger than your hand sits in the sink with drops of blood resting on it and you smirk. Only then do you see your fists. Bruised and bleeding, your blood stains the bathroom floor. You close your eyes in hopes that you don’t see your reflection.

When someone comes to check on the noise and see you there, they carefully drag you out and scold you. They clean your fist and check for glass, then they bandaged your hands and sigh. As they clean up, you sit in your room.

(“why are you so broken?” Mirror you shouts. “Why can’t you be normal?”)

Staring at your bandaged fists, you think, hatred is a violent emotion.

Nearly a year passes by when the next wave hits. Unlike anger, this emotion does not burn you. Instead, it lingers in everything you do, every day, every moment. It waits. It makes you silent at the moments you want to speak, and it makes you cry when you want to laugh. It waits. You can’t explain it to anyone, they don’t understand. This emotion waits until you are truly alone when it strikes.

At eight years old, you learn a hard fact.

(If anger burns, happiness shines, hatred bruises, and love heals. Then sadness takes it all, swallows it whole, leaving you to wonder if anything was there in the first place.)

The increased therapy sessions and nervous glances from family members lets you know something is up. With a little snooping around, you find out what. Hurrying back to your room you lean against your door and stare at the pamphlet. “Why choose Soullux removal?” The pamphlet shows happy people doing everyday things. You read the pamphlet three times. Each time deepens the sick feeling you have.

Soullux removal.

Doctors found out that humans don’t need a Soullux to survive. “The organ is not like the Heart,” the pamphlet reads, “one could live a healthy and even happy life without a soulmate.” It goes on and on talking about how many famous and successful people have removed their Soullux so that they can “focus on more important things.”

Seconds later, you realize your family wants you to get the surgery.

No, you think. Never.

Angry you make your way to the living room and seeing as everyone is there, you erupt.

“No. It’s not right. I won’t do it. You can’t take them away from me.,” You shout. “I won’t do it. You all have your soulmates. If you want Soullux removal, get it yourselves!” By the end of your speech, you’re panting, your vision is blurry, sniffs do nothing to help with the snot dripping out of your nose.

“Soullux removal?” One of them says, “Y/n, we would never.”

You throw the pamphlet on the table. “Yeah, right.”

“That was in my room. Y/n, you know you not allowed in there.”

“And you not allowed to steal my soulmate from me, but that’s exactly what you were planning.”

“Y/n, you-”

“-Even though it was wrong of you to sneak into their room,” a different family member interrupts, “Y/n, it’s important for you to know we would never do that without talking to you.”

After all the emotions cooled down you all talked. They handed you a different pamphlet. This one talks about pills you could take to “lessen the intense feelings your broken soulmate forces on you.”

“Broken” soulmates are soulmates with such mental and/or physical “problems” that causes their soulmates to feel the pain of their disorder. These pills eventually block you from feeling your soulmate entirely.

As you read the pamphlet, you note all the times it says broken. Three.

Broken. Like that time, you accidentally dropped a bowl and it shattered. Broken. Like when your classmate broke their arm, and everyone wanted to sign it. Broken.

They think your soulmate is broken. They want you to abandon them.

You want to throw up.

No. You think, you can’t take them from me. I won’t abandon them so please don’t take them from me. Please. Please. Don’t. They’re not broken. Please don’t take them from me. I’ll do anything, please.

“Please,” you say, “Please. Don’t. Please.” And you repeat those words over and over.

At the age of thirteen, you give up on your soulmate. You tried, honestly. You read every book, watched every video, and even posted on all kinds of forums online in hopes of finding a way to help, but nothing was working. You were useless.

Really, it was your soulmates’ fault. No one could constantly be sad, angry, and full of self-hate, right?

It makes you wonder though. What was it about your soulmate that they only felt those three emotions? Was someone doing terrible things to them? Or were they terrible people?

You didn’t know. What you did know however was that you couldn’t help them. You wanted to continue listening to music on your bed thinking sad thoughts, but you needed to clean out your room. You’ve been putting it off for weeks. And that’s what you did, for about the first fifteen minutes, but then you found an old shoebox in your closet. You couldn’t leave it, could you?

In the shoebox were tiny trinkets and a stack of letters all addressed to someone you’ve never met.

You remember when you started going on little adventures after your soulmate started to feel down. You were only seven then.

The idea was you would go on fun adventures like those happy kids on TV. You figured that your soulmate had Lonely Soul syndrome too, then they would feel your happiness. If they couldn’t be happy themselves, you would share yours. Then you thought that if you saved tiny gifts and letters when you finally meet them you could give it to them. If they knew you cared for them, maybe, just maybe, a bit of their sadness would go away.

You didn’t think about the shoebox in months. You wonder what younger you would say if they knew you gave up on your soulmate just like everyone else.

You open one of the letters.

Dear Soul Mate,

Hello, it’s me.

I’m seven now, but my birtday is in a few weeks. You’ve been sad lately and I’m here to tell you that won’t do.

That won’t do.

See ya, Y/n.

That was all the letter read. No adventure no nothing. You shoved the letter back in the envelope and grab another one.

Dear Soul Mate,

My family thinks you’re broken. I don’t know if your family thinks that about you too, and maybe that’s why you are sad all the time. But you should know that I don’t think you are. I don’t think people can break. Sometimes it might feel like it though. Sometimes it might feel like shards of who you used to be are missing and no matter how many times you try to piece yourself together again you don’t fit. You might feel defeated and completely alone. But you are not an object. You are not glass that can be shattered. Broken means that you’ve given up, and you haven’t. You’re still, living, breathing, feeling. As long as you are still alive, you are still fighting. You’re not what people define you as, you’re just you and that’s all you need to be.

I wish I could promise that I would always be there for you, but I can’t. I wish I could tell you that I believe in you, but I’m not sure you care about what a stranger thinks. I can promise you that I’m telling the truth when I say that you are the strongest person I know. Everything you feel is whole and true. Your anger, your hate, and your sadness feels like it consumes you, but underneath it all, you have pure wonder, unconditional love, and constant kindness. You amaze me. Despite never meeting you, I know you. And I am proud to have you as my soulmate.

See ya soon, Y/n.”

You don’t remember writing that. You didn’t even know you could write like that. Honestly, you were expecting all the letters to be like the first one.

It was harder these days to feel the emotions younger you talked about. These days all your soulmate felt was sadness and hate.

Maybe writing one more letter couldn’t hurt, right? Beats cleaning your room.

Why the heck were you in the park? You have an essay that’s due soon and yet here you were sitting on a park bench.

A quick look around shows an average park. Trees, benches, grass, and a playground with a group of teenagers.

They had to be older than you by a good three years.The way they were standing was weird.Four of the five teens were facing the last one, a girl. You didn’t like the smug looks on their faces.

The girl was shouting. Her back rigid and arms crossed.“We’re soulmates.” She practically shouts. “What do you mean you don’t need me?”

You should leave.

“It means I would rather get that surgery everyone talks about than have you as a soulmate. Look at you, you’re worthless.” He says. You could see his hideous smirk from where you stood. His friends holding onto one another as they laugh.

Her shoulders shake and-

“Hey,” You don’t even register the fact that you’ve spoken until everyone’s looking at you. “Don’t you think this is a private conversation between the two of you, you know, in private?”

“Who the hell are you?” Of all things, you didn’t expect the girl to shout at you full force.

“I’m just your common citizen trying to run away from my responsibilities, so if you could quiet down that would be great.”

“Kid, why don’t you mind your own business?” Jerk face asks.

By now you are standing face to face with Jerk face and his groupies. You turn to the girl who looks like she’s in complete shock. Her face is red and eyes puffy. “Normally I would. But I think you should leave.”

“Or what?”

“Run.” You tell her.

“What?” She whispers.

Jerk face is still smirking. You want nothing more than to punch him in the face, but you can’t. Instead, you kick him where it hurts and with the girl in tow you dash out of there.

After a while, you two reach a neighborhood. You didn’t recognize it, but it seemed like a good enough place to rest.

“Why did you do that?” The girl asks.

“I know, I should have punched him, but,” you hold up your dominant hand, “I need this hand to write my letters, they’re important.”

“Letters? how old are you?”

“I’m Fourteen.”

“And you write letters?”

“Yeah,”

That’s all it takes to set her off. She starts to laugh and can’t stop. Bent over, hugging herself, she laughs until she can’t breathe.

You don’t mean to ruin the moment, but you do. “Your soulmate is a jerk.”

“Lance,”

“What?”

“His name is Lance.”

“Yeah, well, Lance is a jerk, and as your friend, I suggest slapping him the next time you see him.”

“Friend?” Her laugh turns a little hollower, “you don’t even know me.”

“Well then, let’s get to know each other. Name’s Y/n.”

She looks at you, stares as if trying to decide whether or not you’re screwing with her.

She nods then, “I’m Donna,” she says, “Donna Noble.”

You decided to walk Donna home. She’s quiet; a direct contradiction to earlier. You understood what it was like to have a lot on your mind, so you tried to stay quiet as well. It was Donna who ended the silence.

“I always thought that I would find my soulmate and we would fall in love. That I would get what my parents have. My mom always told me ‘your soulmate is exactly what you deserve and everything you’ll ever need.’” Tears fall from her eyes, but with a deep breath she continues, “He is exactly what I deserve. My one and only soulmate.” She laughs bitterly.

You wish you knew what to say. You wish you could pluck the right words out of the air and weave sentences so beautiful Donna would stop laughing and start smiling.

Over the years as you watched friends and family find their soulmates you learned that just because people can feel their soulmate doesn’t mean they truly understand them or their life experiences. That takes work and commitment. It is odd to think about however; knowing someone deeply, yet at the same time not at all.

“Maybe, soul- people,” you correct yourself after Donna flinches at the s word. Yeah, there were some days where that word burned you as well, “maybe, people aren’t supposed to fill a missing hole in you. Maybe they’re just the cherry on top.”

You reach her house and she points you towards her kitchen when you ask for a glass of water.

In the kitchen, are who you assume are Donna’s parents. Music and laughter fill the air and the two of them are eating. With such soft smiles and tender touches, you could tell they were deeply in love. It was as if they were the only ones in the room.

“Here.” Donna hands you a glass of water.

You were so captivated by her parents you didn’t notice Donna slip pass you. A glance at the two eating shows they haven’t even noticed two people in the room with them.

“Thank you, Donna.” You practically shout. Everyone looks at you oddly, but at least your plan works.

The day you turned thirty, your life took an odd turn.

Technically it started six months before that.

See, Donna started a temp job at the same place Lance the Jerk works. Apparently, as Lance claimed, he was a changed man. He said he wanted to start fresh with Donna. Donna was all for forgiving him. (“Y/n, he brings me coffee every day. Me. Coffee!”)

You felt there was something odd about the whole thing though.

It wasn’t the fact that the best friend rulebook states that you have to hate him for how he hurt your best friend.

It also wasn’t because he never once apologized to Donna. (Saying “I was only a kid at the time,” is not an apology.)

The problem is you didn’t think Lance was the right person for Donna, ironically enough. Donna is full of life, she’s loud, kind, and slightly ignorant, Donna is passionate. Lance is indifferent, he’s judgmental and arrogant.

Seeing the two of them together puts a sour taste in your mouth. Aside from a few subtle comments, you haven’t really talked to Donna about it. How could you tell her you thought her soulmate wasn’t right for her? Maybe you were reading too much into it? You hope Donna sees something in him that you are overlooking, you hope Lance has a better side of him that he shows Donna.

You wanted nothing more than for Donna to be happy. If it means holding your tongue around Lance, you would duct tape your mouth shut.

Donna tells you she wants to marry him, and you play the role of the excited best friend.

It happens on the day of your thirtieth birthday, two weeks before Donna’s wedding. Donna throws you a big surprise party, but halfway through she disappears. Nerys-why is she here? You don’t even know her, and Donna hates her- tells you that she vanished into golden dust, but you figured she was wasted. You ask around, but no one’s seen Donna.

Soon, the party is over, and you still don’t know where Donna is.

When you get home, you find Donna sitting in your kitchen, a cup of tea in her hands. Her hair is a mess, clothes tore and she was soaking wet. How in the world?

“Donna? I was looking everywhere for you. I almost punched like three people when they said you were-”

Donna rushes into your arms. She’s shaking, holding you as if you are the only thing in life that makes sense.

“Donna?” Sighing, you hug her back. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

After Donna is clean and in dry clothes she talks.

She tells you that Lance was lying. That he was in love? With a spider? And there was a doctor trying to help. The spiders died. Lance died. Thames flooded? Or was it drained? Honestly, you couldn’t really make out much of what she was saying with her face buried in your shoulder, tears staining your clothes. All that matter was that your best friend needed you. You held her until her sobs turned to snores.

Donna spends the next year traveling, learning, and looking for trouble.

You spend the year working, paying bills, and wishing you could do the same as Donna.

When Donna calls you to excitedly tell you that she’s speaking Latin of all things, you decided enough was enough.

Three hours later, you meet up at a small café.

You see Donna the moment you walk in the café. She’s sitting at a table for four with a man beside her. Both of them seem to be having an interesting conversation because both of them can’t seem to stop laughing.

The sight brings a smile to your face.

When someone walks into the café, Donna glances up and meets your eye. She stands, waves her hands in the air, practically shouts your name.

Before the temptation to act like you don’t know her kicks in; you rush to her. The hug she pulls you in is unexpected but nice.

“Oh, I haven’t seen you in months!”

You don’t say anything. Instead, you run your eyes over Donna. Taking a step back you notice that the Donna before you is different from the one you saw a few days ago. There’s something about this Donna that makes her shine. Maybe a new haircut?

“Did you get a tan?” You notice it then; Donna definitely got a tan but… a quick look at the window shows you that it is still pouring out just like it has for the last week.

Donna laughs and drags you to the table. She introduces you to the man whose name is the Doctor and you say hello. It’s as he’s about to reply that you feel it. A wave of happiness hits you like a smack upside the head and spins your world around. Colors are brighter and what once was gloomy rain is now the water that brings life to mother nature. Too busy looking around you miss everything the man, the Doctor, was saying.

“Sorry about that.” You give a sheepish smile. The Doctor grins. With one hand ruffling his hair, he leans towards you from across the table.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“Nothing, I think it’s just my soulmate.” The last bit of the sentence comes out as a question.

“Them again? Listen Y/n the second I meet this bloke, I tell you what, I’m gon- ”

“Donna you are not going to assault my soulmate.” Donna ‘offers’ to slap your soulmate every time they feel something other than happiness. You can’t help your smile grow though; before Donna you never really had someone who was ready to fight anyone who hurts you.

“What’s wrong with your soulmate?” The Doctor raises an eyebrow. “I think your soulmate is perfectly fine. In fact, I’d go so far as to say this is one of the greatest days of their life.”

“And why is that?” You don’t notice that you are leaning towards him.

“Well,” he drags the word out, “I think he just met his soulmate.”

It takes a moment for your brain to process what he said. When you do, you jump from your seat spinning around to search for him. “What? Where is he?” Your heart is pounding.

From a distance, you hear Donna whisper an “Oh my God.”

“If my soulmate is here why doesn’t he come up to me?”

You turn to Donna after she calls your name, “your soulmate is right in front of you.”

Looking from Donna to the Doctor to Donna again you open your mouth and- “Donna,” you sigh, “you are not my soulmate.”

Slumping down into the chair, you rest your elbow on the table with your chin in your hand.“You guys really got me excited for nothing.” You pout. Your other hand plays with the teacup in the center of the table.

“Um, if your soulmate was right in front of you what would you want him to do?” The Doctor asks.

“Anything really. A simple ‘Hello’ and their name is good enough.”

“Hello. I’m the Doctor.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve already introduced yourself.”

“You spend all this time waiting for your soulmate and now that he’s in front of you, you can’t see him? Y/n you are an idiot.”

“What are you talking about? The only people in front of me is you tw-ooh.” Looking at the Doctor, you don’t know how you feel. The best way to describe it would be dancing. It’s like back when you were a teenager listening to music in your room. The music turned on loud, your door closed, and you start to dance. Jumping around, singing, and having fun, the joy you feel from hearing your favorite song runs through your veins; nothing could ruin the moment. As you spin around, in the midst of singing your favorite verse, someone opens the door. The two of you stare at one another as you wait for them to decide if they want to embarrass you by walking away or join in on the dancing.

That is the best way you can describe how you feel.

That happiness with a side of embarrassment.

The Doctor and Donna spend the next few hours explaining who the Doctor is, what they do, and all the places they visited. They told you about the chaos, the fun, and the universe. If you were anybody else, you would have gone into shock and cancel the whole day. However, you are you and so the only thing you can do after discovering that aliens exist is laugh. Because your soulmate is an alien who travels all of time and space in a phone box and your best friend, Donna Noble-

“My best friend traveled across the universe and brought me back my soulmate.”

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