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pastanest · 1 year

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Eleventh Doctor x she/her!reader

AN: this is an ANGSTY one which is usually not the vibe for me but I got lost in this idea and completely fell in love with it so I really hope you like it!! this is the ost piece I was listening to while writing -

Set Things Right

With a sigh, the Doctor rubs his face with his hands, then places his palms flat against the console of the Tardis. She wheezes halfheartedly, seeming to wince in pain.

“Why can’t you tell me what’s wrong?” The Time Lord pleads with her, desperate for any sign, any handy hint on what he can possibly do to help her.

The two of them have been drifting aimlessly through deep space for a time that even a lord of such a thing has been unable to truly focus on. Hours, days, weeks - he doesn’t know, all of it has been lost to the worry over his oldest and truest companion. The one piece of home he has left.

Closing his eyes tightly in a pained blink, the Doctor takes a deep breath in an attempt to tune himself into the Tardis further, to understand her, just enough to help. In focussing as hard as he possibly can, his subconscious grabs at the first sound it finds, no more than an unidentifiable flicker, but the Doctor hones his thoughts to the spark that the Tardis has sent him, whatever it may be. The very moment the sound becomes clear to him, though, the Doctor flinches away from the console, feeling a physical tear through his hearts and rubbing against his shirt to soothe the ache that resides there. Has resided there, and been ignored for another time that he dares not address.

“Don’t. Just…don’t, please. She’s….” The Doctor shakes his head, refusing to say the words as he falls against the railing, gripping it with one hand at his back while the other still holds his chest, as though shielding his hearts from another fatal blow. “She can’t help us, not anymore.”

And he feels it, the judgemental gaze of the Tardis on him at every angle, even in her weakened state. Loosening his bowtie to escape some of the pressure, the Doctor speeds from the control room, past a door that he knows was not previously so close to the main control room but he will not give her the satisfaction of acknowledging it, past the swimming pool, and towards the library. There must be something in here, he thinks to himself, haphazardly throwing books from the shelves on which they previously sat and creating a disheveled pile in the center of the room behind him, hoping one of them may contain the secret to healing his sickly time machine.

Quite suddenly, the Tardis jolts to the right, sending the Doctor falling into the pile of books he had unintentionally used to form his own landing pad. Jumping back to his feet with a firm frown on his face, the Doctor straightens his shirt and huffs.

“Now, I know you aren’t very well, but there is no need-”

Interrupting him, the Tardis throws him back to the ground with another fierce jolt, and then she bursts to life in what the Doctor can only describe as a fit of rage. She is taking flight, furiously, to a destination of her own choosing, with no regard for the Time Lord that is crawling his way back to the main control room through corridors that she turns on their heads, walls that she shrinks and enlarges, floors that she shakes and cracks with the sheer force of her determination.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” The Doctor shouts into the main control room, over her screeches, as glass panels splinter at his feet.

Flinging himself at the console, he grabs the monitor with both hands and tries to read the Gallifreyan text, the co-ordinates, anything, but she is flying too fast for his eyes to keep up with her train of thought as it blazes across the screen.

And with a final, deafening crash that sends the Doctor hurtling into the railing, the Tardis halts to a sudden stop. She wheezes again, but this time it almost sounds…relieved? As though wherever she has landed, it has brought her a sense of peace. This place can heal her wounds, the Doctor recognises her feelings towards it, and his ever curious mind is buzzing with excitement at the thought of such an incredible, new place.

“Oh, where have you brought me this time, old girl?” Having already forgiven her for the bumpy ride, the ancient god is giddy, rubbing his hands together and retying his bowtie, grabbing his tweed jacket as he races for the door.

He braces himself as he reaches for the wooden panel, hand trembling with excitement. With a deep breath, the Doctor pushes open the door and steps out into the brand new world. Except it isn’t, and it is.

The street is one he would recognise even if he had never set foot there, because he knows this planet almost as well as he had known his own. Earth, the planet to have given him the greatest friends and adventures he’d ever known. But this street is not one he has never set foot on. The Doctor is a man who cannot look back because he dares not, there are many streets on this planet that he avoids for fear of the pain he would revisit on seeing them again, in the absence of those he once knew occupied them. And this street is no different, except in that it is the most recent of the streets he never wanted to see again, and in the way that he has been forced to do exactly that. He wants to run and hide, more than anything, but he is frozen to the spot, because something isn’t right. The air tastes different, the gravity feels slightly askew, and he can’t tell what year it is amidst the emotional tidal wave of it all. As fundamentally wrong as all of those aspects are, the Doctor cannot deny that they point to one possibility amongst a million others, but that one - regardless of the agony - he cannot live with the regret of denying.

And then he hears it again. The same sound he had heard when inside the Tardis, the sound she had told him would help her, and now again, in the place she has taken him to heal her. Time seems to slow as the Doctor turns to his left, his eyes immediately locking onto and blurring a perfect vision he never thought he would see again. You.

Laughing so hard you are throwing your head back, eyes crinkled and tears spilling at their creases, your mobile phone to your ear only mildly distorting the view of you. Completely oblivious to the big, sad eyes that watch over you, a trembling smile of pure anguish choking out a disbelieving laugh with you, though he has no idea what you are laughing at.

Clutching at his chest and feeling the world around him beginning to spin, the Time Lord stumbles back through the doors of his time machine and falls to the floor, pressing his back against the wooden panels in an effort to lock himself away.

For the briefest second, all he feels is pain. Wound after wound tearing through his very being, bleeding him dry and crushing him into dust. And then that second ends, and the oncoming storm rises to his feet, a darkened frown etched into his brow.

“Why.” He mutters, approaching the console. “Why. WHY!” He throws his arms in the air and slams them against either side of the monitor, watching as you disappear down the street and then shoving the monitor away from him. “WHY would you bring me here?! What kind of cruel trick is this?! How DARE you! How…could you? How could you take me back to a time when she was…when you know that I can’t…”

The Doctor trails off, defeated, and collapses onto the jump seat with his head in his hands.

Sensing his anguish, the Tardis groans at him, exasperated by the way in which he continues to miss the obvious. Sending the monitor flying back over to the side of the console that the Doctor is facing, the Tardis displays the exact time and date beyond her doors and waits. It takes the solemn, lonely man several seconds to lift his sorrowful gaze from his hands and read the Gallifreyan text she has written for him.

He blinks, and blinks again. Then stands, closing the distance between himself and the monitor.

“But, this can’t be right, that means…” The cogs begin to turn inside the mind of a genius, knowing for a reason he cannot come to terms with that he could not have possibly seen you on this date, in this time.

And as the realization hits him, his eyes widen, the Tardis seeming to screech in pure glee as her masterful plan is revealed to him.

“You…” He whispers in disbelief. “You punctured a hole in the fabric of the universe…to bring us to a parallel world, where…”

A soft knock at the door interrupts his bewildered and undecidedly disapproving train of thought. Leaning around the console, he frowns in confusion and, in a daze, strolls over to the door. Opening it just enough to show himself and not the bigger-on-the-inside majesty of his time machine, the Doctor unintentionally finds himself very nearly nose to nose, with you.

Jumping back in surprise, you chuckle. “Oh, hello! Blimey, talk about up close and personal!”

And the Doctor cannot say a word. In all his hundreds of years, you are the one thing to render him completely and utterly speechless.

“Anyway, sorry to disturb you and your…policey business? I’m guessing this is a new thing or I just never noticed this blue box on the corner of my street, but, is this somewhere that I can raise concerns?” You ask him, staring up at him with the most clueless and curious expression. The pain caused by the lack of recognition in your eyes is nothing compared to the bliss of seeing the life within them.

Without a word, the Doctor nods.

“Oh, perfect! There’s this guy that’s been following me home from work in the evenings and it’s really starting to freak me out. I’m not sure if I just report it to you and you keep an eye out, since he hasn’t done anything and the law for creeps is lenient at the best of times, but if you’re stationed here I just wanted to give you a heads up, I guess.” You glance to either side, as though fearful the man you are reporting could overhear, but then your eyes meet the Doctor’s again and you smile so kindly. “Anyway, that was all. Hope you have a good night and don’t get too cramped in there! See ya!”

And, like what you’ve done hasn’t just altered the course of history, you spin on your heel and walk away without a care in the world.

The Doctor closes the Tardis doors again and turns to face the console.

“We can’t be here. She doesn’t recognise me, this version of her has never met me- well, she has now, I suppose, and that is entirely your fault! But she doesn’t know me, she’s lived the days on this planet that another version of her spent traveling through time and space with me, she has stayed safe here and I cannot do anything to jeopardize that, not again, so we have to-” He stops himself, mid-ramble and mid-walk to the center console.

“Except…the other version of her, the version that we knew, she mentioned a man that followed her home, just once.” His blood runs cold. “She said that had we not met when we did, she feared what he would have ended up doing to her, and in this timeline…” The Doctor’s fists clench at his sides as the reality of the situation dawns on him. “You have given me an impossible choice. To choose between the very fabric of the universe, and saving her just one more time.” He straightens his bowtie and heads for the door, casting a flirtatious smirk over his shoulder.

“And you knew exactly what I would choose, you sexy thing.”

The next morning, you all but stumble into your office in a half-asleep state, having stayed awake far too late the previous night watching youtube videos about conspiracy theories to distract yourself from the curious, bowtie-wearing policeman you had met. Falling into the spinny chair behind your desk, you open your laptop and start tapping away to log yourself in for the day, tuning out the background noise of your coworkers doing the same.

“Ahh, (Y/N)!” Your manager’s voice makes you jump, your life flashing before your suddenly wide eyes as you sit up straight and turn to face him.

“I wanted to introduce you to John Smith, he’s a detective in the area that’s been assigned to watch over this part of town due to some unsightly folks being reported on the streets!” He grimaces at the thought, but you hardly notice, your eyes having already gravitated towards the tall, slim man with the dopey smile on his face as he watches the tiniest spark of recognition ignite in your eyes.

Standing from your chair, you hold a hand out to him. “We’ve met, actually, but I didn’t think it’d amount to this! Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Smith.”

If possible, the warm smile on his face brightens to challenge even the sun outside. “Duty calls! Pleasure’s all mine, but please, call me the Doctor.” He pretends to very dramatically whisper “It’s my code name.”

Unable to stop yourself, you giggle and shake your head at his antics, making the young man with ancient eyes beam.

“I’ll be surveying the area today, but this evening I wondered if you could take me on your route home, so that I can evaluate any…unsightly folks.” He says, referencing your report the day before and your manager’s choice of words.

You nod at him, smiling gratefully. “That’d be wonderful, thanks…Doctor.”

And oh, how his hearts both skip a beat at hearing you say that.

For the rest of the day, you sit at your laptop and work away, while occasionally casting glances out of the window and at the carpark below, where the curious bowtie-wearing Doctor-policeman “surveys the area”. Now, you don’t pride yourself on being knowledgeable about police work, but you are quite confident that it doesn’t usually entail climbing trees simply to sit in them or getting bored enough to begin peeping in people’s parked cars and accidentally setting several car alarms off. All the same, every glance from the window leaves you with a smile that you truly struggle to wipe from your face, even in the wake of your desk job.

At the end of your working day, you practically skip out of your office in search of the sweet fool that has offered to walk you home. You find him waiting beneath a streetlamp, surrounded by its golden glow, casting a halo over him that you can’t help to find somewhat metaphorical.

“Evening Doctor, had a good day?” You tease, knowing as well as he does that you have seen the majority of his antics.

“Good evening! I did have quite a good day, yes, did get a bit dull towards the middle, but as long as it helps keep the community safe, I will do it! How was your day?” He kindly returns your question, the two of you subconsciously starting to walk in step with each other.

“It was alright, bit dull, like you say, but we got through it!” You change the subject. “Before I entrust you with my route home, do you have a badge to prove your position, detective?”

Something twinkles in his eye at your sensibility, your desire to protect yourself, and the opportunity for him to show off one of his favorite party tricks. “Ah, of course! Here.”

Digging into his tweed jacket, he retrieves a leather bound wallet and opens it out to you. The second you have digested the words on the small piece of paper within it, you are laughing so hard you are throwing your head back.

The Doctor, in a state of pure confusion, rapidly looks between you and the psychic paper. “What? What does it say?!”

Wiping your eyes, you try to calm yourself down. “It’s safe to say your flirting is much appreciated after a long day, Doctor.”

With wide eyes, the Time Lord reads over the piece of psychic paper that has never been more accurately named than when it answered your question of his professional title with a few, simple words.

The love of your life.

And the Doctor has never flushed a more violent shade of red in all his years. With a disgruntled cough, he shoves the wallet back in his jacket.

“I am so sorry, that was not at all appropriate, please forgive-”

Nudging him playfully, you cut him off. “Nothing to forgive! As I said, I appreciated it. I know a creep when I see one, as proven, so I can tell when someone isn’t one. Translation: you can flirt with me as much as you like, pretty boy.”

He expects your flirting to fluster him even more, having not heard it in some time, but the sentiment is so familiar and by extension, comforting to him, the Doctor finds himself relaxing into your presence again, like nothing has changed.

“Pretty boy?” He chuckles.

You shrug. “Yeah, I’d definitely say you’re pretty. I suppose I’d have to, if you’re the love of my life.”

Playing along, the Doctor smiles at you, perhaps a little too adoringly. “Well, yes, it would be quite a shame if one of those statements were false.”

“Either one, in fact.” You give him a cheeky grin, the two of you sharing a comfortable laugh as you pass beneath another streetlight along your walk home that you have memorized so completely, you have all the time in the world to memorize an entirely new part of it.

By the time the Doctor walks you to your front door that evening, both of your faces ache from smiling as much as you have.

“I regret to inform, I didn’t look behind us to see if we were being followed at any point.” You say, feigning disappointment in yourself that the Time Lord very quickly catches onto.

“Ah, well, in that case, I regret to inform the same- and it’s my job! I am rubbish at this.”

His response brings another warm laugh from you. “I wouldn’t say you’re rubbish, but I think it is only fair we reconvene tomorrow evening and ensure we do keep our wits about us. What do you think?”

And the Doctor is grinning at you like you’re a tree with silver leaves, standing tall in deep red grass, beneath twin suns. A piece of home he truly never thought he would find again.

“I think I owe it to you, after my poor show today.”

With that, you’re smiling right back at him. “Wonderful! See you tomorrow then, Doctor.”

He raises his hand without really thinking about it and gives a very awkward wave, considering how close the two of you are standing, but it seems you are already accustomed to his clumsy social skills and have found the charm in them that speaks to your heart in the same way it does across every version of you. Sharing one final laugh, the two of you part ways, the Doctor beginning to retrace his steps from your house to his Tardis.

When casting one last look over his shoulder, he sees you still standing in your half-open doorway, watching after him with a lingering smile that is so beautifully familiar to him. With a more socially acceptable distance now between you, he waves again, and you wave back, stepping into your house and closing your door behind you. And with a spring in his step that was previously long forgotten, the Doctor returns to his time machine.

She is in wonderful spirits, of course, seeing her Time Lord return with such a dopey smile plastered between rosey cheeks as he recounts the day he’s had, everything you said, everything you did. The Tardis makes what can only be described as mechanical noises of approval with every new piece of information about you.

Knowing he can’t risk trying to time travel to the next morning when already breaking the rules by being in this parallel world to begin with, the Doctor decides to spend the rest of the evening and night tidying up. Something he doesn’t often do, as the Tardis will usually default to clean settings whenever he leaves a room in a mess, but she watches endearingly as he tidies away the books he’d thrown into to the library floor, polishes the railings of the main control room, and strangely, tidies away the fairy lights that you had wrapped around the bannister what feels like a lifetime ago, because you had insisted the Tardis could use a little more ‘dolling up’, as you put it. A classy girl, you had called her. No wonder she is still so fond of you.

But the Doctor had been unable to merely focus his gaze on the little glowing orbs that decorated the main control room, ever since you had last set foot in there. The reminder of your physical presence and the agony of the absence that followed was too much for him to confront, and yet here he is, wrapping them up and tidying them away like Christmas decorations that have been left up just a little too long. It is curious, the Tardis thinks. Does this mean he is ready to start processing his grief? Is he simply on an emotional high from seeing you again, to the point where he can touch the tangible reminders of you that were previously forbidden to trembling hands? Or, does he wish for you to set foot in here again and make the request for fairy lights that he will already have waiting for you? The Tardis does not know, but she knows very well what she hopes to be the truth.

The next morning, the Doctor actually decides to go on a stroll to the local shops. He had visited them only a handful of times with you before and often found them to be incredibly boring, which they once again proved themselves to be when he arrived at 5am to find none of them were open yet. Naturally, he spun around the carpark in shopping trolleys until the doors opened hours later.

At work, you sit at your desk tapping your shoes against the carpet beneath it impatiently, glancing out of the window every few seconds with a frown that you truly cannot believe is there. Are you really this disturbed by the lack of presence of a man you have known no more than 48 hours?

But when he hobbles into the carpark, very awkwardly carrying a foldable ping-pong set, you struggle to contain the howling laughter that brings tears to your eyes. You watch in absolute wonder as the strange man sets the table up against a tree he had climbed the previous day, in perfect view of the window by your desk, and then turns to wave at you, ping-pong paddle in hand and a goofy grin on his face as he points at it and the table, in case you hadn’t noticed it. Waving back and miming that yes, you acknowledge the ping-pong table he has brought with him, you shake your head in disbelief and finally allow yourself to focus on your work. Meanwhile, in the distance there is the occasional, disdainful yell of a Time Lord playing ping-pong against a tree and losing.

That evening, the Doctor is once again waiting for you under the same streetlamp, illuminated by the same angelic glow as the evening before, and you can’t help feeling that each time you see him standing under it, that becomes more and more fitting.

“Evening Doctor, what’s the final score?” You ask, gesturing to the ping-pong table that he has left in the carpark.

Scoffing and pouting dramatically, the Doctor replies. “I don’t want to talk about it, but good evening.”

In an instant, the two of you are chuckling again, like old friends that have known each other far longer than you two have. Or rather, far longer than you have known him. The walk to your home continues in much the same way as it did the previous day, except the Doctor is more aware of your surroundings this time.

“So, I said to her, y’know, that’s totally unreasonable, and then she-”

The Doctor interrupts you by gently tapping your hand with his own as they swing between you.

“I don’t want to alarm you, but we are being followed. Carry on as you were, I’ll keep watch.” He whispers, your arm immediately going rigid with fear beside him, but nodding along with his reassurances. “You are completely safe. I won’t let anything harm you.”

Clearing your throat, you continue. “Sorry, just remembered I forgot to save a file at work and made a mental note to sort that tomorrow. Anyway, as I was saying-”

Listening dutifully to your stories, as he always has, the Doctor only occasionally casts sideways glances to the opposite side of the street, where a shadowed figure is walking ever so slightly behind the two of you.

Once safely at your door, the two of you share a small smile, but your nervousness is obvious.

“Please, dont worry. After tonight, you won’t ever have to feel this way again. I will deal with him.” The Doctor tells you, voice soft but words firm in their meaning.

And you don’t know why, but you trust him completely. “Thank you. Goodnight, Doctor.”

With that, he gives you a warm smile, one that you will hold onto for the rest of the night. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

He waits until you have stepped inside your home, closed and locked the front door, before he takes his leave. There is no skip in his step this time, his shoes thud against the concrete road with a determination and fury like no other.

Walking over to his Tardis, the Doctor rests his back against the doors and crosses his arms.

“I know you’re hiding over there, I know you like to follow her. Just tell me why.” He speaks into the street that appears empty, but in his peripheral vision, he can see the same hooded shadow that had been following you earlier, hiding around the corner of someone else’s house.

For a moment, the stalker says nothing and the Doctor is tempted to speak again, but then a voice greets him from the dark.

“None of your business.”

The Doctor laughs coldly. “I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong. By choosing to subject her to the fear that you have, you have made this my business. So, I’ll ask again, just once: why?”

The hooded figure considers the words and the obvious confidence of the bowtie-wearing man that leans against a police box. Based on this, he evidently tries to choose his words carefully, but not carefully enough.

“I like the way she walks faster when she sees me behind her.”

The Doctor’s blood boils in his veins. “You like to scare her?”

When no voice replies to correct him, the Time Lord stands up from leaning against the Tardis and walks over to the monster of a man that thinks himself hidden.

“Does it make you feel powerful, scaring her? Like you’re making some impact on the world?” The Doctor seethes. “Let me make myself very clear: she is one world that will forever be out of your reach, both in who she is and the fact I will make sure of it. She is under my protection, do you want to know what that means?”

Without giving the monster time to answer, the Doctor grabs him by a tuft of his hair and slams his forehead into his, sending him a shockwave compilation of the Time Lord’s most formidable and incredible moments. The paper man crumbles to the floor, a shaking mess, and the Doctor stands tall over him.

“If I ever see your face again, it will be your last day on this planet.” The Doctor threatens, voice eerily soft given the weight of his words.

Nodding frantically, the stalker scrambles to his feet and sprints as fast as he can away from the ancient god.

Rubbing his face tiredly, the Doctor returns to his time machine and collapses on the jump seat.

“He won't bother her again, she’s safe now.” He tells his oldest companion.

She whirrs pleasantly at him, grateful for him having saved you, but reiterating a question that already nags at his mind.

“After seeing my list of atrocities, it’s highly likely he’ll ever come back. We should…” He trails off, exhausted by the task of sharing his own history with another mind in such a way. Sighing deeply, he sits back in the chair. “But highly likely still isn’t definite. I should probably stay, just one more day, to be certain.”

And the next day, after another wonderful walk home with you, the Time Lord comes skipping through the Tardis doors with another beaming grin.

“Well, there’s no way he would come back the day after I threatened to remove him from the planet, and I can't leave her so suddenly without an explanation! I owe her that, at least.”

But he is only justifying the continuation down this path to himself, the Tardis holds no opposition to what would usually cause her and the fabric of reality a great deal of stress.

Before he knows it, the Doctor has done the impossible: he has lived a normal week in normal human time. He knows that without you, he never could have done such a thing. To be honest, even if he had been with you as he was before, he would have struggled with this. Having lost you and lived without you in the way that he has, he has never wished more for the most mundane parts of a life with you. All the time spent running with you at his side, facing varying degrees of danger head on, running on adrenaline and saving planet after planet - it was only when he lost you that he realized in doing all of that, he barely had the time to just walk with you. Talk about your day, the weather, your friends, the gossip about town, the slow passing of an evening instead of cramming a month’s worth of adventures into a week of traveling and then dropping you back into your normal life on the same day you’d left it. How you adjusted to both, how you effectively gave up on the life you had here, the one he has now been blessed enough to live with you, he will never know.

And on the last night of the working week, when the two of you share a look that acknowledges the fact you won’t see each other again until Monday, and you invite him into your home for a cup of tea, the Doctor feels a piece of his hearts slot back into place.

Stepping into your home, without the souvenirs and paintings from your travels with the Doctor filling every empty space, only seeing pieces of you everywhere, your ornaments and trinkets and chosen wall art - all of it sings your name to him like a prayer. It is strange, to step into someone’s home for the first time and feel a sense of nostalgia. Something feels wrong, still, but the Time Lord allows himself to be blinded by everything that feels right, the constant comfort that he feels in your presence, the peace you bring his ancient mind. Just once, he feels he is allowed to ignore the nagging in his brain. The universe can let him have this, just for a little while longer.

Having made the Doctor the best cup of tea he has ever had - simply because it is you that has made it - you inform him it is against your code of conduct to stay in your work clothes once you have returned home, and rapidly ascend the stairs, leaving the Time Lord sitting in your living room in a lovesick daze. And when you re-enter the room in the coziest looking pajamas he has ever seen, the Doctor is absolutely certain that the look in his eyes tells you loud and clear, he would do anything for you.

Flopping down on the sofa beside him, you kick your feet up on the plush footstool ahead of you. “So, Friday night, what are we saying - takeaway and a film?”

You could have asked him to marry you and the question would have sounded just as heavenly. The Doctor nods frantically, grinning after you as you briefly exit the room again and return with a box full of paper menus for various takeaway places, asking him to pick while you choose a film that you say he has to see at least once in his life. He pretends to deliberate, his eyes fixed on you as you dig through your stacks of DVD’s, but he knows that he’s going to choose your favorite takeaway and you’re going to put on your favorite film, which he has watched with you a number of times before, but cannot wait to watch again for the first time.

In the post-takeaway bloat, the Doctor has discarded his tweed jacket and bowtie, and undone the top two buttons of his shirt, while you have simply shifted your position to be snuggled into his side with your head against his chest. The two of you are snuggled under a fluffy blanket, watching your favorite movie in silence, save for your choice commentary over your favorite scenes. With your ear pressed against his chest, the Doctor wonders how you haven’t made a point of his irregular sounding heartbeats. While you have acknowledged it in your own head, something about it feels normal to you, preventing you from having any kind of reaction beyond being comforted by its sound.

And never before has the Time Lord wished to be stuck in a time loop more. If the only way he could live this day, everyday, for the rest of time, would be to play it out over and over again, he would never complain about a thing. If his moral compass had a gray area that was just a little larger, he could let his Tardis being here cause a fracture in the fabric of reality with any number of consequences, if it meant he could stay here with you. But above all else, the Doctor wishes he could have a silly little job to complain about, that everyday he could come home to your little house, cook and eat dinner with you at your dining table, laugh about the days you’ve had and yours plans for the next ones, then snuggle up on the sofa in your pajamas to watch your favorite shows until you were tired enough to go to sleep. And every night, he would carry you up to bed, looking down at your sleeping face and planning each and every night how he’d ask you to marry him someday soon.

It isn’t until you feel a droplet against your head and sit up to face him that the Doctor realizes he desires that life so strongly it has reduced him to tears.

“Doctor? What’s wrong?!”

The care in your voice, the way he can tell you already feel for him, the bond you have automatically slipped back into without even trying. He has made an imprint on your life again, he couldn’t help it. He was here to save you just one more time, to set things right so that he and his time machine could grieve and carry on, that was his purpose here, but he has gone too far. There is no logical way that he can leave unnoticed and in any which way he left you now, he would hurt you. While it would only be a fraction of the agony he has lived in without you, he cannot bring himself to hurt you in any capacity, not again.

“I have to show you something.” The Doctor tells you, standing up from the sofa and taking your hand, grabbing his jacket with the other and leading you to your front door.

It is silent as you step into a pair of slippers big enough to fit your fluffy socks in, staring up at the Doctor in confusion and concern, and it is silent as the two of you walk the short distance between your house and his police box.

Taking a deep breath, the Doctor pushes open the door and gently tugs you inside. Your legs falter behind him and he turns to face you, seeing an exact replay of the shock and wonder in your eyes as he did on the first occasion he brought you here. But there isn’t time, not anymore.

“Not a policeman, a time traveller. This is my ship, it’s bigger on the inside.” With your hand still in his, the ancient god rushes through the necessary clarifications as he leads you through the main control room, down a flight of stairs, and to the door that he previously couldn’t bear looking at, that the Tardis had moved closer to the main control room than it had ever been before.

The Doctor’s other hand is shaking as he reaches for the handle, but he cannot delay this any longer. He has gone too far.

Turning the handle dowards, he pushes the door open, the gesture weak but taking everything from him, his arm falling limp at his side. The room glows at your arrival, the Tardis sensing your return and greeting you in a warm smile. And despite the overwhelming strangeness of it all, you manage a small smile back at her.

The Doctor feels your hand slip away from his as you cautiously step into the room, while he feels an invisible barrier denying him entry. After everything, he does not deserve the right to stand in there with you.

“This universe is not the only one.” He begins, voice light as he focuses on telling you a story, providing an explanation of what came first, forcing himself to forget what came after until he has no choice but to tell you that, too. “There is an ever expanding number of galaxies and worlds out there in this universe and others, and time is like…a cabinet, with folders pressed together that are so similar, only those who know them well enough could tear them apart. Parallel worlds.”

His eyes are fixed to you as you seem to glide around the room, gaze lingering on every trinket you see, until you reach the fireplace to the left of the door. It bursts to life at your presence, flames roaring and firewood crackling, warming your slippers, but you neglect to notice that, otherwise entranced by the photographs that decorate the mantelpiece. Frame after frame, all different sizes, some photographs not framed yet, but placed there still, waiting to be stood with pride amongst the rest. Your own face, and the Doctor’s, smiling back at you in each and every one, with backgrounds of countless different places.

“I was lucky enough to meet you in a world parallel to this one. We…traveled together.” He takes a deep breath, watching you pick up some of the photographs to examine them closer, a confused frown on your face as you stare at them with such intensity. “There are planets safe in the sky, stars that sing songs of that version of you for saving them, even just for visiting them. That version of you was like…a sun, to many a planet, spreading an infectious joy wherever you went…to none more than me.” With a sad smile, his gaze drops to the floor, the line of your doorway that he cannot cross. “I took you from the planet that created you, the stardust from which you were born, and because of me, that world is now without you.” All light drains from the Doctor’s voice then, the weight of his crimes crushing the flicker of his spirit that only you could bring back. “What should have been an easy pit stop on an asteroid became the worst day in existence. It was your birthday- not that you remembered, you hadn’t been living earth days for some time, but you had mentioned how much you enjoyed celebrating and I couldn’t strip you of that human right along with everything else.” As kind as his gesture had been at the time, on reflection it is morbid, cynical and cruel. Everything he did that led you there had grown sour in the absence of you. “I took you to the largest asteroid belt in history, so that we could have a picnic there and you could take another photograph for your collection. But when we arrived…” The Time Lord swallows the lump in his throat, remembering every agonizing second as though it was happening all over again. “Colonizers, that was what they called themselves. A disorganized group of criminals; a broken cyberman and discharged jadoon, among them. They had stolen a vortex tunnel, which in itself was a terrible crime- they thought they could control one but not even Time Lords managed to master them. My history and their anger towards me for it was waiting outside the Tardis doors but because it had been clear when I’d set the picnic up, I didn’t think to scan the perimeter again. I sent you out there first to surprise you, and they-” Trembling fists clench at his sides, closing his eyes in a pained blink before opening them to a grave frown. “They’d already grabbed you and before I could say anything, they’d thrown you inside.”

Having already placed the photographs back on the mantelpiece, you watch the wonder of a man you’ve come to know crumble with shame.

“What does a vortex tunnel do?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper so as to not upset him further by verbalizing such painful memories for him too loudly.

“Vortex tunnels are a risky means of escape. They pluck you from where you’re standing and send you hurtling across space and time with no definite destination. They could send someone to random coordinates, floating in space, to certain death- there is no way to predict them.” The Doctor answers, keeping his words factual and objective to regain some composure.

“Why would anyone want to use one?” You question gently.

“Desperation. Based on their unpredictability, they are illegal and kept in stasis, but there have been cases of criminals that use them to avoid trial and execution.” He replies.

“Couldn’t outer space police track them down, or something?” You aren’t quite sure you understand the full extent of the events, feeling that certain aspects are missing and it is down to you to piece together what you can while trying to save the Doctor from reliving such pain.

“Vortex tunnels don’t just send you across time and space, they erase your mind entirely. In the highly unlikely case of someone being tracked to where the tunnel had spat them out, they have no memory of their crimes, so cannot be charged for them. The creature that they were, all but ceases to be.” His voice is light again, fragile this time at the thought of the person he had known being erased from existence and left stranded. “There was no way for me to trace you, not even with a psychic link in the Tardis, because the psychic link with you was gone, your mind as we knew it, was gone. The Colonizers jumped into it afterwards, of course, to escape me.” The Doctor rubs his face with his hands, then places a palm against the doorframe. “She’s the reason I’m here. She mourned you so deeply that she ripped a hole in the fabric of reality to bring me to a parallel world, just to save you one last time, to make our last memory something better.” His hand falls to his side. “But I went too far, again. I stayed too long, made too much of an impression on this version of you, your life here. Now, leaving will hurt you, but I can’t take you with me. Not only do I refuse to take you away from the world, the family that is yours a second time, but I cannot replace her. As similar as you are, you are not her, and I know it. Something has felt wrong from the moment I arrived and as much as I’ve tried to ignore it, I can’t anymore-“

“What family?” You interrupt him, stunning him into silence for a moment.

He is so shocked by your question, he manages to meet your eyes for the first time since opening your bedroom door. “Your family, your parents.”

Your brow furrows, expression lost. “I…don’t have parents, Doctor.”

The Time Lord stares at you, dumbfounded.

And then he’s walking towards you, stepping across the invisible barrier and breaking the distance to stare into your eyes, read what lies beyond them, a stern frown etched in his features. “Yes, you do. As different as parallel worlds can be, if you did not have parents, you would be a very different person. Your mother picked out your living room curtains, your father built the coffee table in there-”

You shake your head, interrupting him again. “Those were both part of the house, they were there when I arrived.”

Too perplexed to continue this interrogation manually, the Doctor takes your hand and all but drags you back to the main control room. Retrieving his sonic screwdriver from his jacket pocket, he scans your brain and then transfers the data to his monitor, eyes reading the Gallifreyan data displayed over and over again, trying to make sense of it.

“Is there something wrong with me, Doctor?” You ask, beginning to worry based on his expansive knowledge and lack of ability to give you an explanation.

Looking from his monitor to you, he scowls. “Arrived.”

“What?” You question.

“You didn’t say the furniture was there when you moved in, you said it was there when you arrived.” His eyes slowly start to widen. “You saw the Tardis. When we first landed here- she automatically blends in with the world around her, but you saw her. And when I told you to call me the Doctor, you didn’t question it, not once. Despite being introduced to you as John Smith, you never called me that, even in private.” Slow, hesitant steps towards you, as though he’s scared to approach what you could be. “You didn’t question anything, throughout my explanation. Not the time travel, not the Tardis or referring to her as ‘she’, not parallel worlds, not the alien species I referenced, not how we met, the places we’d been- you only started asking questions in the end, about the only things that - out of everything I told you - you didn’t already know.”

His words sink into your skin slowly, your mind finding it much more difficult to digest this information than it had everything else the Doctor has previously told you, and he’s right, all of that should have raised more questions from you.

The Doctor reaches for your hand so slowly, and you don’t know why, but you accept it, instinctively. A small smile blooms on his face, the tiniest glimmer of hope as he looks between you and the Tardis console.

“She wasn’t sick, oh, you sexy thing- that’s how she brought us here, she was tracking you across time and space, pinpointing the anomaly of you, thrown from your own timestream and into another.” He whispers, bringing your hand to his lips to place a kiss against your knuckles. “If we fly away from here, if we go back to your Earth, the timeline will correct itself and you should remember everything- we can’t let this anomaly continue or it could tear apart time and space in some grandiose butterfly effect!”

And he lets go of your hand to run around the console, pressing buttons and pulling levers with an exhilarated grin on his face, the Tardis whirring with excitement, while you just stand there.

“All this time, I thought she couldn't find you, silly old Doctor! I was slow on the uptake, as usual- I hope the Shadow Proclamation can forgive any ripples in the continuum that follow this, but-”

“Doctor, wait.”

He stops suddenly, the wondrous time machine collapsing into silence.

“The fact I already trust you as much as I do and don’t feel terrified by this frankly alarming turn of events, suggests you and the Tardis are right, but…remembering an entire life that, as of now, I don’t fully recognise I’ve lived, how will that feel?” For the first time since meeting the Doctor in this world, you are scared at the thought of what comes next.

Understanding your concern, the Doctor returns to you and takes your hands in his. “Quite honestly, I have no idea, I’ve never seen the recovery process from a vortex tunnel. I can only guess that it will feel overwhelming, it could send you to sleep, but whatever happens, I will be right here, and you will be fine. I promise you. I will never risk you again.”

He holds your face in his hands, gaze locked with yours.

Taking a deep breath, you nod. “Okay.”

The Doctor smiles at you. “Keep your eyes on me and reach for the lever on your left, you know the one.”

And like it’s second nature, your hand grabs the very lever he’s referring to, bringing a beaming grin from the Time Lord as you tug it down.

With a wheeze and a groan, the wonderful time machine lifts into the sky and drags herself out of the parallel world, beginning the journey back to the one you came from. Through the time vortex, your knees buckle, winding you and forcing you to collapse into the Doctor, who holds you against him so tightly, slowly lowering the two of you to the floor to hold you on his lap, arms keeping your body safe as your mind races a mile a minute.

“You can do this, we’re almost there. Come on (Y/N), hold on, for me.” He murmurs into your ear, comforting you through the tears that wrack your body, memories attacking you from every angle.

Regardless of how happy the majority of those memories are, to experience them all at once and at the same time as all of the sad ones, the painful ones; to feel every emotion you are capable of feeling simultaneously and remembering every instance in which you have felt every one, in a microsecond; a human mind can only cope with so much.

The memories of his smile and laugh overlay every flashing image of every place you’ve been together, every species you’ve encountered, friend you’ve made, planet you’ve explored, until it all fades to black and you are empty again.

Only this time, instead of waking up in a simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar house with a mental block on how you had arrived there and no understanding of who you were beyond the corporate life you led amongst billions of your kind, your eyes flutter open to your home. Sitting in a chair beside your bed, he watches over you, your guardian angel. The delirium with which you scan the room around you, acknowledging the crackling fire and the familiarity of your bedroom on the Tardis, makes you feel as though you have slept a thousand years.

“Doctor? What-”

He interrupts you, gently shushing you. “Rest, (Y/N), you need to rest, please. Recovering and reliving your entire life all at once and in under a minute is not a normal process for anyone, you need to let your mind recover.”

Rubbing your eyes tiredly, you nod at him. “How long have I slept for?”

“Three days.”

With eyes like a deer in headlights, you sit bolt upright in bed, immediately starting to feel dizzy and the Doctor jumping from his chair to steady you, propping your pillows up behind you.

“Three days?!”

The Doctor nods. “Yes. Had I thought about this recovery process, I probably would have picked a more comfortable chair.”

Your jaw drops. “Tell me you have not been sitting there for three days straight.”

And the ancient god is silent.

You sigh. “Doctor!”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “If I told you I hadn’t been sitting here for three days, that would have been a lie, so I thought it best not to say anything!”

Shaking your head in disbelief at him, you shuffle to the side of your bed that is pressed against the wall. “For goodness’ sake, you ridiculous fool.” You pat the empty space beside you on your bed. “Get in here.”

The Doctor’s eyes widen. “Y-You need the space to rest!”

You hold his gaze. “Before getting to the parallel world, how long had it been since you last saw me?”

He avoids your eyes. “I wasn’t keeping count, we were just drifting while she tracked you- it doesn’t matter.”

Frowning, you look up at the ceiling. “Tardis? On the monitor above my bed, can you tell me how much time had passed between my disappearance and the two of you arriving on the parallel world, in Earth days?”

And as always, she is ever so happy to listen to you. The monitor above your bed flickers on, displaying a black screen with a single line of text.

1096 days, 15 hours, 38 minutes, 4 seconds.

Having never been particularly mathematically gifted, you turn back to the Doctor. “...How many years is that?”

But he doesn’t have it in his hearts to tell you, to admit how long he was alone for, how long he and the Tardis grieved for, how long they drifted in space while she searched for you and he tortured himself with the guilt of losing you, the hopelessness of never being able to find you again. Retrieving his sonic screwdriver from his jacket again, he zaps the monitor above your bed and then returns the tool to his pocket, hanging his head.

Looking back up at the monitor, your eyes fill with tears at the change of text.

3 Years, 1 Day, 15 hours, 38 minutes, 4 seconds.

One hand lifts to cover your trembling bottom lip, while the other reaches for his hand.

“Three years?! Doctor, that’s-”

He cuts you off. “If the Tardis hadn't taken flight when she did, it would have been an eternity, I can assure you.”

The Doctor’s words hit you like a train, so suddenly and stopping your heart with a screech before it starts again, spluttering frantically in your chest at the impact. Sniffling and wiping your eyes, you chuckle, in complete disbelief.

“Well, daft old man, you know what that means, don’t you?”

Unable to resist the urge to lift his head and see your smile again, the Doctor meets your eyes. Without realizing it, he starts to smile back at you, silently asking you to continue.

And you do, giving his hand a squeeze before letting go of it to tap the empty space on the mattress beside you again, with a tearful smile that sets both his hearts ablaze.

“I think you need a cuddle just as much as I do.”

#doctor who #eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #11th doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #x reader #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons #doctor who imagine #eleventh doctor imagine

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nghtwngs · 1 year

Text

silly human traditions

description: you’ve never had a new year’s kiss before. neither has the doctor. you decide to change that tonight.

pairing: tenth doctor x reader (you can probably read it as eleven too!)

genre: fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining

word count: 1.2k

warnings: alcohol consumption (by the doctor), ten might be ooc bc im literally rewatching eleven’s episodes (im on the second christmas special rn!) and i think ive lost his voice but i hope that’s not the case

a/n: happy new year!! i wrote this up like real fast bc i was thinking about kissing ten and well… yeah

You walk into the TARDIS’s control room with a huge grin plastered on your face. “Doctor, we have to celebrate our first New Year!”

The Doctor looks up from the control console and turns his head to face you. “New Year?” His eyebrows are furrowed, lips curled down into a frown. “There’s no concept of time in the time vortex—how would we celebrate New Year’s?”

“Well, my phone’s calendar doesn’t change.” You pull out your device, opening the calendar app and holding it up for him to see. “It’s currently December 31st. And also we celebrated the holidays this past week.”

He pulls out his glasses out of his suit and puts them on. He squints at your screen anyway. “Well, I guess so. How’d you figure we do that?” He jumps up, running over to you. “What about a planet where everything is made of water? Or we could watch a galaxy of stars fizzle out into nothing but dust!”

“Well, Doctor, I was thinking we could just, I don’t know… spend it on Earth? Watch the ball drop in Time Square or something? Hm, actually maybe not that.”

“You little humans and all your traditions.”

“You love it.”

He mirrors your cheeky grin. “Alright, then! I think I have just the place.” He rushes over to the console, doing his thing. The TARDIS makes her signature wheezing noise, reminding you to hold on tight. “New York! Present year… well, for you anyway. Two hours ‘til midnight. Dress well. We have a party to crash!”

You make a sound of excitement, giving the Doctor a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Amazing.” You run off to the TARDIS’s vast wardrobe to find an appropriate outfit.

After finishing getting ready, you pop back into the control room to find the Doctor fiddling with his tie. He’s dressed in a black suit. A classic. You think it suits him well. (Pun not intended.)

“No bow tie this time?” you ask, walking over to him.

He just shakes his head. “Nah.”

“You clean up nicely,” you say, tightening his tie for him.

He smiles so softly at you that it makes your heart ache with need. “You do too.”

You clear your throat when the intensity of his gaze hits you. “Well, we better get to the party. Don’t wanna miss anything else.” You link your arms, dragging him out of the TARDIS.

Turns out, the party he took you to crash is filled with a bunch of celebrities. No one either of you care for, but celebrities nonetheless. It makes you feel important to be around all these people. Like you’re important enough to be around the Doctor, who you’d say is the most famous of them all. It makes you feel special. Being here. With him, but maybe not with him.

He doesn’t even bother to correct anyone when they mistake you for being an item. You often wonder if there is any deeper meaning behind that. It makes your heart stumble off beat. But that’s silly. A ridiculous, quite pathetic notion.

Silly human things, you suppose.

But it’s okay. He makes you feel special. Anyone the Doctor chooses to be his companion is special.

The very best of humanity, he’d say.

The Doctor has a sip of some random alcoholic drink you were both offered (you declined) and sticks his tongue out in disgust. He immediately places the glass back onto the tray. “That was dreadful. Absolutely dreadful.”

You can’t stop yourself from giggling until he grabs your water and chugs the entire thing. You grumble, “I was about to drink that.” But your words come out much too soft, too fondly for him to believe you’re really upset over it.

He leads you out onto the balcony with his hand on your back. You forget all about your drink.

“Oh my, God!” You double over, holding onto the Doctor’s arm. “They were sentient? How can grass be sentient?” You both continue to wheeze like it’s the funniest thing the two of you ever heard.

“Yeah, they were quite rude honestly. Telepathic. Said my hair looks ridiculous,” he muses. His voice suddenly goes quiet. He leans into you, staring into your eyes like it’d make you any more honest. “Does my hair look ridiculous?”

You run your fingers through his locks, making sure not to mess them up. “Your hair looks great. I always like it.”

“Yeah? You think so?”

You nod in agreement.

Cheers erupt from inside, and you’re worried you missed the countdown. But there’s still another five minutes left.

“Do you have any resolutions for the New Year, Doctor?”

“Resolutions? Why would I need resolutions? Is that some human tradition? Why do you have so many traditions?”

“People just want to have goals, I guess? I never really stuck with mine. And well, it’s really just that and uh… the New Year’s kiss.”

“New Year’s kiss?” He frowns.

“Yeah, they say if you kiss someone at midnight on New Year’s, it’ll strengthen the bond between you? I don’t know. It’s silly. I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss before, so I couldn’t tell you if it’s true or not.”

“Huh.” There’s his thinking face. Nothing good ever comes from his thinking face. Not unless you’re in a life or death situation, and you don’t think you are right now. At least you really hope not. “Do you… Would you like to test that theory out?”

You almost choke. “What?”

“Well, I mean, it’s not like we have to or anything.”

“I didn’t peg you as the superstitious type.”

“I’m not. But no harm in trying it out, right?”

No, there’s a lot of harm in trying it out, you want to say. You think your heart might explode out of your chest. That would be a horrible way to start out the new year. He’d have to find another companion whose heart stays in their chest cavity and away from both of his.

“Yeah, no harm at all.”

Why can’t your mouth just stay shut sometimes?

You hear the countdown start.

Ten.

He holds your chin between his index finger and thumb.

Nine.

His warm eyes look into yours.

Eight.

You’ve never been touched with such gentleness before.

Seven.

His scent is so clean and warm and so him.

Six.

The proximity is completely dizzying.

Five.

You think you can feel your knees buckle.

Four.

How can he look at you as if you’re the only interesting thing in the universe?

Three.

When he’s seen it all.

Two.

A quick glance at your lips.

One.

The Doctor presses his lips against yours. It’s wonderful. He tastes like berries. When in the world did he have berries? Your arms slink around him, pulling him as close as possible. He doesn’t seem to mind. He cups your face with his hands. What a brain melting kiss. The strings of his hearts are knotting with yours. You want to be consumed by this feeling.

It doesn’t register that you have to breathe for a minute, but you think you’d kiss him forever if you could. You have all the time in the world anyway. You wonder how long can Time Lords go without air. Probably much longer than humans, yeah? You, with much reluctance, pull away.

He pecks your lips again. He grins cheekily at you. “A while.”

You scoff. You hate it when he does that. And when he smiles at you like that. Your neck grows hot even though it’s cool outside. “It’s midnight.” You’re still breathless.

“It is.”

“You’re my first New Year’s kiss.”

“You’re mine.”

Maybe it’s true; the bond between you does feel stronger this year. You kiss him again and then some more.

#tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor imagine #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor imagine #eleventh doctor x reader #eleventh doctor imagine #11th doctor x reader #11th doctor imagine #doctor who x reader

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

Note

Eleventh Doctor x insecure/ anxious reader?

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

"Cold feet" - 11th Doctor x Reader

SUMMARY: Funnily enough, after facing death and vicious aliens, it's small talk with strangers that gives you cold feet. Fortunately enough, you found yourself in the company of an expert on running away.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.9k

A/N: As an anxious person I cannot be thankful enough for people in my life who casually roll with my anxiety and don't try to "fix" it with cheap advice

"Time Lord to human! Are you listening to me?"

The sudden yelling shook you awake. Only then did you realize you zoned out in the first place, letting Doctor's rushed words brush right by you. You looked at him only to see pure annoyance seeping from his expression. Although you never meant to hurt him, the guilt still gnawed at you.

"Sorry, missed the last bit," you explained yourself as you awkwardly rubbed the back of your neck. "What were you saying?"

Instead of repeating his scientific ramblings which definitely would have been a little too fast and complex for you to understand, he shifted his posture to rest his hands on his hips. You felt as if he had caught you red-handed doing something he had absolutely prohibited you from doing.

"Oi, what's going on with you? It's like you've lost your head."

You absentmindedly shook your head to dismiss his worry. "Yeah, sorry, it's no-"

"Are you in love?"

For a moment you couldn't get any sound to leave your mouth. "What?" It was a bizarre conclusion to jump to. You couldn't tell what on Earth could even get him that idea. "No, it's on-"

"Good for you!" he said as he clapped his hands. "Now, moving on. Focus, eyes on me."

"Look, it's just that I've got a..." you suspended your voice thinking of the right word to use. The Doctor stared at you with wide eyes, clearly awaiting the second part of the sentence. "Thing."

"A thing?" he repeated in confusion. It seemed as if with each of your words he only grew more offended at your misplaced attention.

"Yes, a thing." Out of all the words you could have used, your choice seemed to have fallen on the worst and least exhaustive one. "My friend, Ada, is throwing a party for some of her college friends but apart from me everyone invited is from her course, so she's going to be the only person I know there."

"And that's what you've been thinking about while I was explaining my clever, clever plan?"

The Doctor stared at you with closely knit eyebrows. In some way, he couldn't fathom how a party invitation could be in any way more interesting than him showing off his extraordinary intellect and creativity. Choosing between a college party and aliens should have been a lot easier than it truly was.

"It's not as simple as it sounds, you know?"

"Alright, then tell me." By his hand-flapping and surprisingly undivided attention, you couldn't tell whether he was growing more upset or actually wanted to hear about what was troubling you.

"Honestly, I don't want to go but it's important for Ada. Also, I haven't seen her in ages. On the other hand..." your voice drifted away. Now that you've started this little heart-to-heart, it was pointless to lie to the Doctor - if successful, fooling him wouldn't gain anything anyway. "It's a party full of strangers."

For a moment he stared at you in silence, visibly expecting you to elaborate but truthfully, there wasn't anything more to say. The hypothetical group of strangers, as faceless as they were, was already stressful enough, even without giving them imaginary traits or habits.

"Strangers, right," he said as he clasped his hands. The sound echoed throughout the console room. He looked away for a moment, basking in enlightenment, before looking back at you. "How exactly is that a problem?" he dwelled on the subject. It seemed as if the discomfort of a company of strangers was hardly conceivable.

"You wouldn't get it." You vaguely waved your hand at him in a dismissive manner. Maybe it was unfair towards him but you really couldn't imagine a scenario in which he doesn't throw in a sarcastic comment about your anxiety. "I mean, how could you? Socializing has never been a problem for you."

"How could it be? People, party, cake, dancing. I love dancing! Great times, nothing to be scared of."

"Yes, there is: small talk and thirty people I've never met. And that's only the beginning."

Even the mere mention of that situation made a cold shiver run down your spine. A flutter of anxiety in your chest brought an unpleasant, suffocating sensation. Unconsciously, your face contorted in a grimace.

"You just go up to them and talk, what's hard about that?"

"Everything!" you exclaimed as you made a broad movement with your hands. "It's just... I can't do that. I physically can't make myself go up to a stranger and ask how they're doing, I'd rather hit my head against a wall. I know the theory, the 'walking through a house' metaphor, it's just... I can't force my body to do that. And when I do find myself talking to a stranger, I want it to end immediately. And the silence! Oh God, the silence... Like when you ask them a question, they answer and then the silence. The awkward silence of my anxiety, lack of social skills and being a generally uninteresting person. Just a bit of quiet and everyone knows I'm weird, awkward and-"

"Hey, hey, stop it!" he scolded you in a whiny voice as if you were a child. "Don't say that. You're not awkward or weird, you're brilliant!"

"Thanks, that's nice of you but unfortunately, I am self-aware."

He may have known you for weeks but you've known yourself for decades.

"No, really." He refused to let go. If the Doctor was going to spout cliche pick-me-ups, he appeared exceptionally committed to the meaningless act. "You crossed the universe as it is wide and long. Fought aliens and risked your life because a toddler couldn't sleep at night. Blimey, you told a Sontaran with a bomb bigger than your head to piss off. And it's house party small talk that gives you cold feet?"

Contrary to his presumption, the context didn't give you any comfort or motivation - it only made you feel worse. If you really were as brave as he made it seem, why couldn't you just start a conversation with your friend's guests? By the measure of saving the universe multiple times, you should be more than capable to do so.

"I know it sounds ridiculous and I agree it's stupid but it's not the same. When we're saving worlds it's a mission, a puzzle to solve." You paused for a moment but by your expression, the Doctor could tell there was something else on your mind. "And I've got you," you added.

"Me?" he asked sheepishly. The Doctor vaguely pointed his finger at himself. "What does that have to do with me?"

"You make me a little braver. I mean, you don't look scared even when you are, so it gives me a little push. I feel a little less anxious when I know that you've got my back."

"So what do you do when I'm not there?"

"Bail," you answered with a shrug. Were you really the same person who criticized the fashion choices of an alien with more guns than limbs? "I rarely go but when I do, I just run off around midnight like Cinderella." You made a small pause when you lowered your gaze, avoiding the Doctor's face. "Honestly, it always makes me feel ashamed like I'm making myself miss out on something but it's either that or panicking in the bathroom."

A silence fell between you. The Doctor's typical hand flapping came to a strange halt as he continued to stare at you with an inexplicable expression. He would have agreed on your resemblance to Cinderella, your regent-esque charm and princess-like beauty but there seemed to be a matter more important at hand:

"Has that ever happened?"

His voice was surprisingly quiet, hesitant even as if he didn't want to actually know the answer. Maybe he wasn't sure he was ready for the responsibility the knowledge would bring. The Doctor's words were barely audible over the whirring and wheezing of the TARDIS's engineering.

"Which part?"

"Panicking in the bathroom."

"Yeah," you said quietly. Your gaze fell to the floor. Looking for some kind of comfort, you slowly rubbed your arm. "It was New Year at my friend's, didn't know anyone there except for him. At some point, I just needed to take a break from being around so many people. I sat in the bathroom wearing a silver sequin ballgown and fought back tears. Funny, I probably looked equally pathetic and great. The only thing I could think about was how rubbish I was at just hanging out with people and, you know, being a normal teen at a normal teen party filled with normal teens. I just..." you stopped yourself at the last moment possible. A heavy, defeated sigh left your lips before you continued in a voice barely above a whisper. "I just wish I was a little less anxious."

"You never said anything."

"Why would I? It's not something I'm exactly proud of." You let out a bitter chuckle as you answered him.

Suddenly you found yourself engulfed in a tight hug. The Doctor's arms were tightly wrapped around you, his slow but ragged breath brushing against your neck. Surprised at the unforeseen affection, you hesitantly reciprocated the embrace. The tweed of his jacket was slightly coarse, some strings were coming out of the seams. He always smelled like burnt wires and a second-hand bookshop. At first, that distinct fragrance wasn't exactly pleasant to you but with time it became a beacon of hope, comfort, adventure and a good laugh.

"Oh, you brilliant, clever you," he quietly said in a sad voice.

Then he stepped away from you just as swiftly and surprisingly as he hugged you in the first place. The first thing you noticed was the change in his facial expression: the Doctor was no longer annoyed or concerned but excited as if he had just come up with a perfect solution to some mind-boggling problem.

"Well then, good thing you're not going alone this time."

"I'm... not?"

"Yes! A plus-one. It's still a thing, right? I'm your plus-one."

"That's sweet of you but you really don't have to. I'm fine on my own," you assured him, although he had no reason to believe you after what you'd already told him.

"Change of plans, sweetheart!" he exclaimed as he pulled one of the many levers. The TARDIS was about to take flight and it was a little too late for arguments and second thoughts. "We're going together and when people become a little too much we attend to an emergency," he said while running between different parts of the flight console. As if he was dancing, he made a whole circle around the control switchboard and stood in front of you once again. The Doctor stuck his index finger in your face as if reprimanding you once more. "No panicking in the bathrooms."

"Wait, what emergency?" you asked as he was already taking directions to your hometown.

"You know, this very real emergency that can't wait and we have to take care of it at the very moment. The crisis that I definitely did not invent just now."

"Right..." you drew out your answer as you caught on to his ruse. A smile crept unto your face. "Time travellers, defenders of the universe. You can never know when you're needed. Any suspicions as to what the emergency is?"

"Laskos' fourth moon. There's that small waffle bar that might need an inspection."

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owen-writes · 3 months

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Goody-Two Shoes

11th Doctor x Gender Neutral Reader

The TARDIS hums softly as it materializes on an alien planet. You step out, the 11th Doctor at your side, his signature bowtie slightly askew.

"Alright, now listen carefully," the Doctor begins, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of excitement and concern. "We're here to retrieve the Chrono Crystal. It's in the catacombs beneath that ancient temple over there. Follow my lead, stay close, and, most importantly, don't touch anything."

You nod, eager to prove yourself as a valuable companion. Amy and Rory exchange glances, their expressions a mix of curiosity and skepticism. The Doctor takes the lead, and you follow his instructions to the letter.

As you traverse the dimly lit catacombs, Amy shoots you a sideways glance. "You're quite the goody two-shoes, aren't you? Always following the Doctor's orders."

You shrug off the comment, focusing on keeping pace with the Time Lord. The Doctor, however, seems pleased with your cooperation. "It's essential to follow instructions in these situations. Trust me, I've had my fair share of companions who thought they knew better."

As the mission progresses, Amy's jabs become more frequent. "Honestly, you're like the Doctor's little lapdog. Can't you think for yourself?"

The remarks sting, and you find yourself growing increasingly self-conscious. Determined to prove you're not as "lame" as Amy suggests, you decide to take matters into your own hands during a crucial moment. Ignoring the Doctor's warnings, you touch a peculiar-looking device, setting off a series of alarms.

The Doctor whirls around, his eyes widening. "What did I just say about touching things?!"

Your rebellious act results in chaos, drawing the attention of hostile creatures. The Doctor, Amy, and Rory engage in a frantic escape, and you realize your attempt to break free from the perceived mold has backfired spectacularly.

Later, in the safety of the TARDIS, the Doctor pulls you aside. "Alright, spill it. What's going on? That's not like you at all."

You sigh, feeling the weight of Amy's disapproval on your shoulders. "I just wanted to prove I could be more than the obedient one. Amy thinks I'm boring, and I don't want to drag the group down."

The Doctor looks at you with a mix of understanding and amusement. "Ah, Amy. She has a way with words, doesn't she? But you don't need to change who you are to impress anyone. I value you for being yourself."

Surprised by his sincerity, you open up about your insecurities. The Doctor listens intently, his expression softening. "You're not a lapdog or boring. You're reliable, and that's a rare quality. Trust me; I've traveled with all sorts. I chose you because I see something special in you."

Over the following adventures, the Doctor makes an effort to involve you more in decision-making, showcasing your unique strengths. Amy, while still a bit skeptical, begins to appreciate your contributions. As the TARDIS hurtles through time and space, you find solace in the fact that the Doctor values you not for your rebellious acts but for the person you are.

#doctor who x male reader #doctor who x reader #doctor x male reader #doctor x reader #the doctor x male reader #the doctor x reader #11th doctor x reader #11th doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #eleventh doctor #doctor who imagine #doctor who #the doctor x you

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specialagentlokitty · 8 months

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11th doctor x reader - it would always end this way

Could I get 11 in the scenario of "it would always end this way"? (Least i think thats the title... ive checked back on it 5 times, im done-) Really love that concept and it's just been sending me- - @krismas0arson

The doctor wasn’t paying much attention, not really paying attention to anything aside from the console as he banged a hammer against it.

Then he heard the song that Clara was humming to herself as she walked in and he snapped his head up, banging it against something.

“Ow!”

He rubbed his head and stepped away from the console, and Clara stopped singing to look at him.

“What were you singing?” He asked.

“I heard it on the way in, just up the street.”She smiled

“The street?”

“Yeah, a busker.”

“Take me!”

The doctor ran to the door and he gestured for Clara to do the same thing, and she sighed and followed him outside.

“It’s just a song.”

“But it’s not just a song.” He said.

Clara led him down the street then pointed across the street and the doctor walked over, standing with the small group of people who were also listening.

Clara walked over and stood next to him.

“It’s just a song, I think it’s from a film.”

The doctor carefully listened to what the words were and he furrowed his brows a little bit.

“But it’s wrong.”

“How can it be wrong doctor?” Clara laughed.

The doctor turned to look at Clara and he took her back to the TARDIS, pulling up the screen he began to flick through videos throughout time.

“All the timelines past, future and present, the song is nearly as old as time itself, it says that a deadman called out for his love to flee.”

“Yeah?”

The doctor pulled up another video, a beautiful face filled the screen, smiling from ear to ear, and he pointed to the laughing person.

“This is the original story.”

Clara looked confused.

“The deadman did not call for his love to flee, it was the deadman’s Love who called for him to flee and took his place.”

“Oh don’t be silly doctor, it’s made up. A story.”

“It’s not just a story Clara !” He snapped.

He spun around and he looked at the screen in desperation.

“It’s the story of how my spouse died…”

“You were married…?”

The doctor nodded and sat down on the table, holding a hand over his mouth as he looked at the screen.

It was replaying the same moment over and over again, the only moment he had of you.

Clara slowly walked over and sat next to him.

“It was the last days of the time war, and they were going to punish me. They knew what I was going to do and had to stop me…”

“How…?”

“Prophecy, but there was one thing the high council were missing.”

The doctor sent the TARDIS into flight, nowhere special in mind, just flying around aimlessly.

“What happened to them doctor…?”

“A prophecy, one that the high council couldn’t even foresee, something that was always going to happen. The time war was always going to end, and (Y/N) knew this. They had foreseen this as well, and they had foreseen my death. They couldn’t let that happen, so at the last moment they took my place.”

“Then what…?”

The doctor sighed, wiping a few of his tears.

“(Y/N) was locked in a time lock on a planet, nobody can access it. The time lords didn’t want to kill them because they were to be the next prophet.”

He turned to Clara.

“That song is the story told by the time lords on the last days, passed through time and space, turned into a silly little song. It’s the last moments of (Y/N)… the last moments of the person i swore to look after…”

“Can’t you find them?”

“You can’t get past a time lock even if I could I can’t get past it.”

Clara reached up and she hugged him tightly, and the doctor gently hugged her back.

“I’m sorry…”

He sighed and looked back at the screen, and he saw that the imagine had changed, showing a map of the universe with one spot flashing.

“What?” He asked.

He got up and looked at it.

“What’s going on?”

“The TARDIS has decided to take us somewhere…”

“Where?”

He looked at Clara.

“I don’t know…”

When the TARDIS stopped he ran out and he looked around the planet, it wasn’t much, just dust and dirt. He stepped out fully, and he looked around confused.

“Why would it bring us here?” He asked.

“It’s just a barren planet.” Clara mumbled.

“No, no there has to be more.”

He began scanning the area, trying to find anything, and when he looked at the screwdriver, he furrowed his brows.

“It’s picking up something, a sound wave.”

He made his way back to the TARDIS and Clara ran after him.

She could hear the voice but she couldn’t make out the words.

“Why can’t I understand it?” She asked.

“That’s impossible…” he whispered

“What? What is it?”

The doctor turned to Clara with wide eyes.

“Its Gallifrian… it’s why the TARDIS won’t translate it…”

“But I thought you were the only one?”

He looked back at the console and ran outside again, trying to pinpoint the sound.

“It’s not coming from here, but it originated from here, I can trace it!”

So that’s what he did, he traced the sound to the start of time, to the end of its reach, to the past and future of earth until he landed in the present once more.

“Its coming from here…”

They both stepped outside and they looked around, and the doctor could faintly here the song, so he followed it He ran after it, chasing it all around London until finally he found himself at the top of a building, gasping for air.

He slowly stood up and he began to looked around.

“Doctor look…” Clara whispered.

She pointed and the doctor looked, Clara smiled, placing a hand on his arm.

“I’ll wait downstairs.”

She left and the doctor just stared at your back as your voice radiated softly and quietly, a frequency only for him.

You slowly stopped singing and you turned around a gentle smile on your face.

“Impossible…”

You took a step forward, and you slowly lowered yourself to the floor as your legs threatened to give way.

“(Y/N)!”

The doctor ran over to you, and he knelt in front of you, placing his hand in the side of your face, looking you up and down.

“I’m okay.. I’m okay…”

Tears ran down his face and you looked up at him, gently brining your fingers up to brush against his skin.

“You’ve changed my love…”

“Yet you’re still as beautiful as always.” He smiled.

You laughed softly and shook your head a little bit. You breathed deeply and he looked at you in concern.

“It’s okay.. I just… I used a lot of energy to get here…”

“Let’s get you back to the TARDIS..”

He swept you into his arms, and you rested your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeats.

The doctor kept flicking his gaze to you, making sure you were still there, still okay He got to the bottom and Clara looked at him.

“I need you to open the doors.”

“Of course!”

She ran to open the doors and let the doctor and you in.

“Come and find me later.” She smiled.

With that she left and the doctor laid you down on the chairs and he covered you up with his jacket, brushing his knuckles against your cheek.

“Get some sleep…”

You nodded your head.

While you were sleeping he did all the checks he needed to on you, making sure you were actually you, checking your mind, listening to your hearts.

It was a few days until you woke up again and you finally sat up, pulling your husbands coat over you and you looked around.

The TARDIS doors were open and you got up, walking over to the doors you stepped outside and looked around.

The TARDIS had moved, and you were in a park, and he was sitting on a bench.

“Ever the thinker…” you spoke softly.

He looked up at you and quickly stood up, rushing over to you.

“You’re real. I checked.”

“I’m hurt you’d ever doubt me.”

He laughed softly and he cradled your face between his hands.

“How did you get out of the time lock…?”

You sighed.

“The time lock was designed to be done every so often… it wasn’t strong enough to hold me, they couldn’t make it strong they needed their strength.. so.. it broke…”

“That song, you planted it didn’t you?” He asked.

You smiled a little bit.

“All throughout time and space so I could find you… so you could find me…”

“How?”

“I saw the prophecy before they did, so when I vanished before that day, I was planting that songs all over the universe, for this moment.”

The doctor smiled a little bit, and he let out a soft laugh.

“My ever wonderful (Y/N)…”

He ducked down, and he kissed you like he had never done before. Every ounce of love and sadness and grief and happiness all into one kiss, and every time you pulled away he leant forward to kiss you again.

And finally you gave in, and you kissed him back.

You were time locked, frozen in time, so it hadn’t been as painful for you like it had been for him. He pulled away and pressed his forehead to yours.

“I love you…”

“I love you too my dear darling…”

He smiled and you closed your eyes, smiling back as he hugged you.

This was where you were always going to end up, this is where you were always going to find your way back to. You had seen it, it was why you did what you did.

You had seen the future it had been foretold that you would find your way back to the doctor, and he would find you, and you would stand right here holding him.

That’s where your vision had ended, you never saw more than that, it’s where you visions stopped once you reconnected with him. But that’s all you needed.

It’s all you ever needed to know that you weren’t going to leave him for good, even if you could never explain it to him, it was enough for him that you were here. That was all the doctor needed to know, that he you right by his side, and he could hold you again

#doctor who #doctor who x you #doctor who x y/n #doctor who x reader #doctor who imagine #11th doctor #11th doctor x reader #11th doctor x you #11th doctor imagine

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yeehawbrothers · 6 months

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Inverted PB&J-11th Doctor x Fem! reader

I'm alive guys.

This was a request from a lovely fellow 11th lover, I wrote it platonically, but if you ignore a few words it could be romantic. I also wrote the reader as American, just because I am. (I also zoned out while writing this and do not remember most of it)

“Do you think it could be considered a federal crime to eat inverted peanut butter and jelly?” She asked, hands covered in grease, sparks flying almost catching her hair on fire, and her best friend beside her, in the same state. “Inverted?” He looked up from the wires in his hands, his grease and dirt covered face, also covered in confusion. “Yeah like,” an explosion of sparks behind her interrupted her statement, before she spun around and used her sonic to tame it momentarily. “If you put the peanut butter and jelly on the bread normally, right? And then instead of putting them like, face to face, you turned them outward.” She stared at him as he seemed to process her words. “Oh, yeah. That’s absolutely a crime” he nodded, as they both went back to what they were doing.

Behind them, Amy and Rory stared at them in question, before turning to each other with faces of pure bewilderment.

Amy slowly stood and walked towards the two timelords, crouched under the ball of wires. “Inverted peanut butter and jelly? Where on earth did that come from?” A shot of sparks erupted in the timelords face as she stopped her work momentarily, the metaphorical cogs in her mind visibly turning. “Boston, I think. In like, 1901.” She said, with a small smile. “What?” She tilted her head slightly, “You asked where peanut butter and jelly came from, Boston. In the early 1900s.” She paused, “But if you’re asking about inverted peanut butter and jelly, I don’t know that. I’ll find to find out though.” She turned back to her work, as Amy shook her head and walked back to where Rory was sitting watching the scene unfold.

“What was that about?” Rory said as he watched his wife flop down on the makeshift bench beside him. “Who knows.” They turned back to watch the two timelords who were now bickering over the wire placement, before all went silent as the lights flickered and a pounding was heard on the metal doors. The two timelords looked towards the door, before turning to each other and immediately standing up. The Doctor began quickly scanning the room as his right-hand woman ran to where Amy and Rory sat. “Hey so, we should probably start running.” As if on que, the metal doors flew off the hinges into the room. “Right, let’s go.” The Doctor ran over, grabbing her hand as they began to run down the hall to the Tardis.

They stopped, allowing their two companions to run ahead into the welcoming blue doors of the tardis. The Doctor lightly pushed her ahead of him into the box, running in last and slamming the doors behind him. The two ran up to the main console and began flicking switches and pulling levers causing the Tardis to take off with a violent shake, before stilling. “wow that was-“ Amy began, before getting cut off by a certain timelord.

“Why would you use the purple wire for the highest current?” The Doctor froze, looking over at his companion. “Well I-“ The Doctor began stuttering over his words. “No, seriously. It only had the capacity for 5 voltage, and it was running at 25. No wonder the doors were faulty.” She stood, hands on her hips staring him down. “Well if YOU,” he pointed at her, shaking his finger, “Hadn’t gone off about inverted peanut butter and jelly-“ She gasped, “Do NOT blame me Mr.! That was an incredibly valid question. Right?” She turned to the two humans watching the scene unfold. “Well-“ Rory started. “Don’t get them involved!” The Doctor said, “You know what, it doesn’t even matter. Because everyone knows peanut butter and butter is better anyways.” She stomped her foot in detest, “You take that back!” He shook his head, crossing his arms as he looked down at her. “You’re the British one, eating beans on toast or whatever it is, so you have absolutely no credibility on what’s good.” He gasped lightly, “EXCUSE ME? The British one???” She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, I got lucky and am a proud American.” She stood in a fake salute.

“Listen,” Her hand coming to rest by her side, “All I’m saying is one fried Oreo will change your life.” His tongue stuck out in disgust as he considered the notion. “You American’s and your fried stuff. It’s so unhealthy for you.” She scoffed, “At least we don’t eat like we have no access to real food.” They stood like that for a moment, in a standoff of sorts, the Doctors face one of disgust, and hers smug as could be. Before bursting out in laughter and pulling each other into a tight hug.

When they broke apart, she wacked him upside the head, hearing Amy snicker and watching the Doctor rub his head. “Don’t ever do that again though, I’m doing the wiring next time.” She pointed, hand on her hip. The doctor stood quickly, taking his turn at coming to a false salute. She shoved him jokingly, before turning back towards the console. “SO. Where to now?” The doctor thought for a moment before running around the console causing the TARDIS to shake and launch into takeoff. All the passengers grabbed a hold of the metal bars circling the console. “I know this amazing place in the Amedromia galaxy! Its- WHOA WHOA WHOA” He was interrupted quickly. “You know I’m banned.”

Silence fell among the Tardis, “Your-your banned?” The doctor tilted his head slightly. “Yeahhhhh…. So, I accidently stole this like super important religious piece from one of their temples cause I thought it was a free sample.” The doctors face dropped into one of annoyance, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” She became defensive quickly, “Listen- at least I’M not the one who stole that guy’s eye cause he thought it was a Halloween costume.” “HEY, YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T TALK ABOUT THAT AGAIN-“ As they both launched into yet another bickering session, Amy and Rory sighed and shook their heads. “Here we go again.”

Thanks for reading, and thanks to @dinofromspac3 for the request. <3

All the love-A.

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multific · 1 year

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Portraits

11th Doctor x Reader

Summary: The Doctor was never meant to see your drawings, sketches and paintings.

You loved to draw and paint ever since you were born.

You loved paintings and art as a whole.

You always wanted to meet with the great painters of the past, Monét being one of your favourites.

But now, you had a different hobby.

You longed for adventure and the thrill of it all.

So, being a companion of the Doctor came naturally.

He was a very understanding and kind soul.

He even made a room for you where you could paint and draw in between adventures.

He would be out there, doing something with the TARDIS while you were in your room, drawing, sketching or painting.

You not only had a new companion and hobby but a muse.

You found the Doctor to be beautiful and soon you realized your mindless sketches were all about him.

In the beginning, it was the places he took you to.

Then it was just Him.

Nothing else but him.

How you remembered him when the sun was shining on his face. One smile he offered you that morning.

And soon, your art room got filled with him. His face littered the walls and the floor. He was everywhere.

And suddenly you became extremely grateful that he didn't enter your room. Ever.

He said it is your space and he never ever opened the door.

And he didn't need to.

After a particularly sticky adventure, you went to your room to shower and wash your hair.

Little did you know that TARDIS opened the door to the Chamber of Secrets. To your Chamber of Secrets.

The Doctor was on his way back from his own shower when he found the door open a little. He thought it was weird since you always close it.

As he knocked and called out, the door opened further, revealing what was inside.

He looked around and at all the sketches of him, and not only him, but the one before him. He looked... beautiful. You made him look beautiful.

A particular painting caught his eye.

He immediately recognized the place, he took you to a planet which was filled with flowers and meadows. And there it was, him sitting on a blanket in the middle of it all.

"Doctor?" he heard you call but he couldn't move. "Why are you in here?!" you asked as you rushed in. "You said you wouldn't come in here."

"The door was open." he pointed at the door but never took his eyes off of the painting. "Is this really how you see me?"

"I-I-"

"You make me look so beautiful. I truly don't deserve to look so nice." his eyes caught once more the pile. The pile which was all of his previous reincarnations.

"It is how I see you." you walked over and pulled out a picture of him standing next to a Dalek. "I don't remember what you told me that day. But I knew I will have to paint it. To me, you are beautiful."

The Doctor, for once in his life was speechless. He could see your heart was in front of him in a platter and he didn't want to break it, even if he knew he should, he couldn't. He loved you for way too long. And to hear you loved him the same. To see you loved him the same.

"I am not a good painter, but I wish I could paint such beautiful portraits about you. You are so much more beautiful than I am."

"Please don't give me hope if you are going to end up leaving me."

"I will never leave you."

You looked at him and smiled at him. The tone of his voice, the promise in his words spoke louder than ever.

"I won't leave you either." you said and it was a promise you meant to keep.

He walked over to you and hugged you. He finally felt full. Both of his hearts, filled with you.

"I do wish to draw something different though."

"Oh?" he pulled back a little and looked down at you. He smiled as he was waiting for you to explain.

"A... nude." you whispered as he suddenly pulled back.

"Very funny! Very funny, Y/N!" you noticed how red his neck and face got as he backed away and out of the room.

You smiled as you heard him walk away quickly.

You knew that one way or another, you will get your drawing, since you already got the man himself.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

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saiilorstars · 9 months

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• Previous Chapters • Sequel to Falling in Temptation • Avalon’s Masterlist

• 11th doctor x ofc

taglist: @ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet @gloryekaterina @lenonizi @foxesandmagic

If you’d like to be a part of this OC’s work/edits, let me know!

Disclaimer: This chapter’s plotline is from Doctor Who’s comic stories. Most of the dialogue is directly written from the comic. The plot is NOT mine.

"I cannot believe I am doing this," Avalon walked tiredly into the TARDIS, tossing her nurse's hat directly at the Doctor. It hit his cheek in the midst of his research on the monitor. "You owe me big time for making me do this!"

The Doctor picked up the nurse's hat off the floor and dusted it off with his fingers. "I think you look positively adorable." His remark was received with a deep frown. "Absolutely sexy?"

Avalon rolled her eyes. Clearly, no kind of compliment would lighten her mood. She detested the stupid nurse costume she was in and much more that she was working as a nurse in a retirement home. "I am a traveler, a mediocre writer—"

The Doctor scowled at the lowball self insult. "Avalon!"

"'—but I am not a nurse!" Avalon finished with a heavy huff. "Why can't we go pick up my grandfather who is an actual certified nurse!?" She stomped her way to the console up to the Doctor, demanding to hear a good answer from him.

"We already started this undercover mission," the Doctor pointed out, "And your grandparents are busy. Besides, I thought this could be a fun trip for the both of us."

Avalon's eyes narrowed. "How is this fun when I'm pretending to be a nurse in a retirement home where you're pretty sure people are being murdered?"

"It's interesting at the very least," the Doctor settled for his new description. "C'mon Ava, you've already been there three days and you've done a beautiful job blending in. Now I'll come in tomorrow and do my part to investigate."

"You mean go straight to the director and tell her what you think you know about her?"

"Absolutely!" The Doctor set the nurse hat back on Avalon's head, an admittedly difficult task given her unruly curls were being extra resistant. Avalon mentioned it took half a dozen pins to keep the hat in place.

Avalon swatted his hands away, effectively making the hat fall to the floor again. "I will do any other kind of UC job but not as a nurse. I don't like it."

"Next time," the Doctor promised her. She grumbled. "How about I draw you a nice bath?" His hands threaded down Avalon's hair. "I can get you those sweet lavender scented soaps and shampoos you love so much?"

"You mean the ones you love so much?" Avalon raised an eyebrow.

The Doctor smiled ever so innocently. "Me? I don't recall, but if you really need my help—"

Avalon's brow furrowed. "I didn't say I needed your help—"

"—then I will of course assist you however I can," the Doctor finished with an even wider smile, more like a grin.

Avalon wouldn't even pretend to be by these antics anymore. After a couple decades, she got too tired. "Yeah, alright," she shrugged.

The Doctor beamed. That had been far too easy!

"But I will need a massage, and a face mask..." Avalon started listing her demands as she headed for the corridors, the Doctor right on her trail.

"Anything you want, love," the Doctor promised, grabbing Avalon by the waist for a moment to kiss the crook of her neck. She smiled to herself. He was much too easy to work.

~ 0 ~

The next morning, Avalon begrudgingly returned to the retirement home just like they planned. This was a ludicrous plan from the start given that it had not been their intention to get involved in the first place. But that's what happens when you're time traveling with your birth mother for "bring your daughter to work" day.

They had stumbled across a much older River Song — she wasn't even in prison anymore! She was Dr. River Song, archaeologist, and she and her team were excavating bodies 200 years from now of the very retirement home Avalon was now walking the hallways of. The issue turned out to be that every coffin was empty which meant that the patients dying right around these days were not being buried. It was a mystery that the Doctor couldn't let go of. So here they were, investigating on their own.

Avalon learned fast that she was not made to be a nurse like her grandfather. It was simply not her vocation. She had little patience for difficult people, she did not like to clean bedrooms, and she didn't like her boss either. At least when it comes to writing, I'm my own boss. However, there was one thing that made the place bearable and Avalon was heading right there.

She met the face of her favorite patient in the entire retirement home and immediately smiled. "Good morning Arthur! I brought you a cup of tea!"

The older man was lying on his bed and watching Avalon's every move. His thick eyebrows knitted together as his eyes squinted.

Avalon walked up to his bedside with a tray in hand. "It's me, Arthur. Nurse Reynolds? Avalon?"

"I'm sorry," Arthur awkwardly smiled back. "Nurse Reynolds…" The recognition glinted in his eyes after a moment and it was then that Avalon set the tray on the bed stand.

"It's alright," Avalon assured him, picking up the cup of tea from the tray. "Believe me, I know a thing or two about losing memories." She presented Arthur with the cup of tea. "No pressure, honest."

"You?" Arthur chuckled lightly. "But you're so young. Your memory's got to be in top shape."

Avalon set her hands on her hips for a moment. "Oh, you would not believe me but I am older than I look."

"Really?" Arthur leveled her with a disbelieving look.

Avalon nodded. "Aha!" She turned away, making her way up to the windows and opening the blinds to let the sunlight in. "I'm nearing 50 now. Had I been a normal human, I would've been wrinkly by now."

"Is that where you're from, then?" Arthur took a sip of his tea.

"I hadn't told you that?" Avalon watched the children below, all playing much too loudly for her taste.

"Uh, maybe you did, but I can't really remember," Arthur smiled apologetically.

"That's alright," Avalon dismissed it. "God, did you get some good sleep with those kids? They're so loud and it's not even nine!"

"I don't mind," Arthur said, "It's good to hear their laughter and games. It can get so quiet here sometimes."

"What—I'm not chatty enough?" Avalon swayed back to the bed. "I feel like I talk your ears off!"

Out of all the patients Avalon had met in the past days, she liked Arthur the best. He was such a sweet gentleman who suffered a form of dementia. He didn't have any family nor friends but he was still so talkative. He was the only patient who had thought to ask Avalon about herself. Everyone else tended to grumble.

"I like it," Arthur nodded, "It's been so long since somebody talked to me. Nobody visits me — well, nobody visits anyone here."

"Yes, I've noticed that," Avalon mumbled under her breath. Three days she had worked at the retirement and not once had she seen a visitor. There were plenty of patients here that would warrant at least one visitor, but nobody had showed up.

"What story do you have for me today?" Arthur curiously asked her.

Avalon's smile returned, a sweet one. She may have also told him several of her written stories as well as her adventures. It passed the long hours for both of them, and Arthur seemed to like them.

"I, uh, I had a bit of a quarrel with my husband," Avalon said, reaching to press Arthur's blanket down. "He's a bit childish, remember?"

Arthur nodded. His tea was half gone already. "He's a traveler, right?"

"Yes, we both are," Avalon reminded him, "I just chose to have a job for a bit...try to, um, set some roots." That was normal, right? She had no idea. Lately, she didn't really know what she wanted to do with her life besides traveling.

She was set on being a writer, at least on some level, but the idea of school was still troubling her. She was never indecisive about anything and yet this one thing bugged her for decades now. The pressure was just there — to do something — with her life. It seemed like Amy and Rory were finally learning how to do that, even Lena now. Avalon now faced a reality she didn't think would ever come: her family was okay, and safe, and now she could do whatever she wanted. It was an odd feeling this way, truthfully. Avalon didn't know what to do with it.

"Is he on a trip right now?" Arthur's question drew Avalon out of her thoughts.

"He was...he's supposed to be in today, actually," she said, "Going to pick me up." This all sounded so blatantly normal that it felt so weird for Avalon. She couldn't imagine having a regular job and having the Doctor waiting outside to "pick her up" after her shift. She almost laughed.

"What's his name, again? I think I forgot…" Arthur attempted to place his cup on the bed stand.

Avalon hurried to take it from him and do it herself. "No, I didn't tell you that. He's a, uh, a doctor. I think you'd be entertained with him."

"My Elsie was the same," Arthur said reminiscently.

"Your wife, right?" Avalon stepped away and put her hands behind her back.

Arthur nodded. "She was a light in every room. She told the best jokes." Avalon smiled at him. "Lost her to cancer years ago."

"I'm so sorry," Avalon sighed. "It must have been so terrible…"

"It was. I don't wish that kind of pain on anyone…" Arthur flashed Avalon a small smile, "Especially good, sweet people like you."

Avalon chuckled. "Well, thank you. Although, don't be fooled again, I'm not that sweet. My husband actually tells me that I have a nasty temper."

"Even then, I'm sure he would miss it greatly if you were gone," Arthur said, pointing a finger at Avalon. "And you would miss his childish ways if he were gone."

"Oh…" Avalon brought a hand to her chest, feeling it constrict at the mere idea of losing the Doctor, "No, I can't even talk about something like that. If I were to ever lose my husband, I think I would die myself."

"Unfortunately, those who remain suffer worse because we're still here...and they're not."

Avalon nodded slightly.

"Nurse Reynolds!" A gruff female nurse called from the open doorway, ignoring the way that Avalon flinched. "If you're quite finished you have duties to perform!"

Avalon could barely hold onto her tongue. She hated Nurse Frost. The name suited her perfectly.

"Of course," Avalon said through gritted teeth. "I will be right there."

"Now," Frost corrected.

Avalon looked at Arthur apologetically. "I'll be back later, Arthur. Would that be alright?"

"Of course," Arthur nodded, "Go, go. I'll be here, waiting for my story."

Avalon promised that she would come up with another story for him in the afternoon. She would follow Nurse Frost out and tend to the other patients, just like she had for the past 3 days.

~ 0 ~

It took very little to get into the retirement home. The Doctor knew it would've probably been easier to get Avalon like this as well but he was guilty of wanting to see her in that hot nurse outfit...and to get deeper information from the inside of course.

He treaded the hallway carefully, keeping an eye open for anything plain strange. Most of the doors on his sides were closed but the few that happened to be opened didn't allow for much view of the patients. Avalon said most patients tended to stay in bed and that seemed about right because there had only been a handful of patients walking the gardens outside.

It was almost as if they were encouraged to stay in their rooms, on their beds…waiting for something…

"Hello there," he startled the woman sitting in the office. She looked up from her dark rimmed glasses and scrutinized the unknown visitor. The Doctor could practically read the woman's thoughts: 'A visitor!?'. He was a novelty not because he was an alien but because he was visiting. That alone waved red flags.

"The name's John Smith…" the Doctor strode into the office waving the psychic paper around. "How are you!?"

The woman barely had a moment to look at the psychic paper before the Doctor stuffed it in his inside pocket. Next thing she knew, the Time Lord was taking a seat on her desk. "Excuse me–" she started, but the Doctor went ahead with his facade.

"And you're clearly the woman in charge of this place! Miss Bruce, isn't it?"

"I—" the woman blinked, "Yes, how do you know that?"

The Doctor pointed to the plaque sitting on the desk.

Miss Bruce flushed. "Right, right. Um, what exactly are you doing here?"

"Doing some investigation of course!" the Doctor hopped off the desk and started pacing in the office. "Because, tell me, bodies disappearing, people vanishing mysterioualy in the night – ring any bells?"

Miss Bruce's face fell grim. A deep crease marked her forehead.

"Wait!" the Doctor exclaimed, his hands flying in front of him, "I know exactly what you're going to say! You have no idea what I'm talking about and deny all knowledge, right?"

Miss Bruce was beginning to hate him by the minute.

"Which means, Miss Bruce, either you're extremely unobservant or you're the one who's trying to cover it up. Let's see, residents going missing from right under your nose – embarrassing! So what do you do?" the Doctor pretended to hum as he feigned thought of all the options Miss Bruce could have in the situation. "You arrange with the local undertakers to bury empty coffins in the churchyard down the road. No one need ever know what's really going on."

"I don't—"

"You're probably wondering how I know all this," the Doctor nodded to himself, bringing his hands behind his back, "Because I was there when one of the coffins was dug up by archaeologists! Well, my mother-in-law but that's another story for another day! But you should know that she was not happy and truth be told, neither was her daughter – my wife – because she was writing an article on it. Had to stop the whole thing."

It had not boded well for anybody in the group when the coffins turned out empty. River Song was finally getting to bring Avalon to some of her "work" and that happened to include one nefarious location that was about to be dug up. The Doctor felt bad for introducing the idea in the first place and see it go horribly wrong. Avalon had no article to submit to the university and because she had always written stories for them, she felt twice as bad. And when Avalon felt bad, the Doctor felt worse.

"So, you see, I've done some thinking, Miss Bruce," the Doctor 'tskd' at the woman who was still blinking widely at him, "And here's my other suppositions about this place. You only take in residents who don't have any friends nor relatives so that when their bodies eventually disappear, there's no one to miss them and most importantly to report them missing. Here's the good news, though," he leaned his hands on the desk, reaching forward until he was face to face with Miss Bruce, "I don't think you're responsible for the disappearances, just the cover up, because if you were responsible for the disappearances, you would've thrown me out by now."

In truth, miss Bruce was like a frozen statue and an unhappy one at that. She let out a heavy sigh, confirming everything the Doctor had just said. "Something else you want to add?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Two things. One: I'll be taking a walk and talk with some of the residents. Two: have you been allowing children into the grounds?"

That was the first time Miss Bruce appeared startled, almost offended. "You're clearly insane, Doctor Smith. There are no children on the premises. It's like you said, I don't admit any resident with families or friends."

~ 0 ~

Avalon followed Nurse Frost into an empty bedroom. If Avalon remembered correctly, it belonged to a patient named Margaret Webster. She was a sweet old woman but she barely talked. She had a fascination with stuffed birds that creeped Avalon out.

"Margaret passed away in her sleep last night," Nurse Frost informed as she turned the lights of the room on, "We need to clear it up for the next patient."

"What – but she passed away last night," Avalon blinked, staying right by the doorway while Nurse Frost started taking the sheets off the bed. "Shouldn't there be, I don't know, studies going on? Like the medical kind to make sure no foul play happened?"

Nurse Frost snorted. "What 'foul play', Reynolds? She passed away. These people here are very old, it happens."

"Still, where's her body?"

"The undertakers have already collected her mortal remains."

"Already?" Avalon made a face. "That's beyond quick!"

Nurse Frost flapped the sheet hard, gesturing for Avalon to come help already. The ginger reluctantly did.

"That isn't your concern nor your job! You're supposed to tidy away the effects of the decease—"

"For the family?"

"She had no family! When you're done here, refresh the sheets. This bed will have a new occupant by this evening!"

"This evening?" Avalon whispered to herself. It truly was beyond fast for a senior center.

"Stop repeating everything I say into a question!" Nurse Frost snapped, throwing the sheet down on the bed for Avalon to take. "And get to it already!" She headed for the door.

"Whatever you say, Cruella De'Vil," Avalon muttered with a roll of her eyes. With a sigh, she started taking in all the personal objects in the room, putting them neatly into boxes. She was slightly quicker with the stuffed birds so she wouldn't have to look at them nor feel their presence.

She stopped by a portrait of a young girl with long ponytails. Judging by the face, Avalon presumed it was Margaret as a child. "You look straight off the 1950s magazines," she chuckled to herself. She turned to bring the frame to the boxes when she came face to face with the same girl…in person. Avalon gasped deeply and let the frame in her hands fall.

The girl was stoic for a moment, not even the thud of the frame pulled her eyes off Avalon. The redhead, on the other hand, was breathing heavily.

"H-how are you here?"

The girl didn't response. Instead, she turned around and walked out the room.

"H-hey! Come back!" Avalon went after her. The girl walked pretty fast, forcing Avalon to pick up her pae as well. "Little girl! Seriously!" The girl made a turn on the corner and just as Avalon did the same, she crashed into Nurse Frost. "Woah!"

"What are you doing here?" Nurse Frost demanded.

"I was just – the girl – where's the girl!?" Avalon peered around Nurse Frost in search of the girl but she had disappeared.

"What are you talking about?" Nurse Frost looked at Avalon like she was crazy.

"The-the girl!" Avalon exclaimed, gesturing behind Nurse Frost. Of course, when the woman looked over her shoulder there was nothing there. Avalon was pointing at thin air.

Stop playing games!" Nurse Frost snapped. "We have a lot of work to do!"

"But I—!"

Nurse Frost seized Avalon's wrist and pulled her in the opposite direction. Avalon kept craning her neck as much as it allowed to see if she could spot the girl again. It truly was like the air had swallowed her up.

~ 0 ~

It took the Doctor a short half hour to find a patient to converse with. He was about the only one who wouldn't give the Doctor suspicious looks. It was always nice talking to someone inviting.

"A police box! That takes me back!" the elderly man gazed appreciatively at the TARDIS parked in the outer parts of the center's gardens. "I haven't seen one of these things in over 40 years! I used to be a bobby myself, just after the war…"

"Arthur, you were telling me about this boy with no face…" the Doctor gently reminded the man. It was the second time he had to nudge the conversations back to the prime topic. Arthur's mind sometimes went.

"Doctor, one of the other residents, a friend of mine, Bert, he said he saw the boy and then he died the next night!" Arthur said, letting out a shudder. "So if I'm seeing the boy now, it means that I'm next!"

"Nonsense," the Doctor waved it off, "You'll be around for a long while yet…probably. Now tell me about these children. You said they've only recently started coming here?"

Because off in the distance, there was a group of singing children dancing around the trees.

"Yes, but they don't like to get too close and…there's something wrong about them…" Arthur admitted.

"Yeah," the Doctor agreed, "Their clothes for starters." The children were dressed as if they belonged to an earlier time period, perhaps the 50s if he had to be more accurate. "And no mobile phones or ipods. Just a bat and ball. Odd!"

The Doctor fixed his jacket up before approaching the group of children. As soon as they spotted him getting close, one girl with long pigtails grabbed a younger boy beside her and stepped in front of him.

"Oi Mister! What do you want?" the girl demanded.

The Doctor put on his best smile. "I'd just like to know who you are and why you're here."

"Can't say," the little boy said as he came around the girl, "Grown ups mustn't find out or they'll put a stop to our games!"

"Will they?" the Doctor went along with the boy's game, whatever it was.

"But don't worry, Arthur," the girl smiled at the older man, "You have nothing to fear. You'll be coming to play with us soon." The words had the opposite effect on poor Arthur. He stumbled back a few steps.

The Doctor didn't like the words either. He straightened up and quickly led Arthur away from the children. The elderly man seemed to be having chest pain.

"It's just indigestion," Arthur said, though clutching his chest contradicted his statement, "It comes and goes…"

As they neared the TARDIS, Avalon came running towards them. "Oh my God! There's a girl – I saw her! But that Nurse—" she growled abruptly. "Nurse Frost – she didn't see the girl so she didn't let me follow her! But there's a girl!"

"Well hello there, Nurse Reynolds!" the Doctor waved a hand, "I sense that you saw something strange?"

Avalon deadpanned him. Her hands fell on her hips. "I don't appreciate your sarcasm. I had to roll up sheets of a deceased older lady, so watch it or the next thing I roll up will be your dead body in a sheet!"

The Doctor just smiled in the face of a threat. "That's my wife, Arthur. Isn't she lovely?"

Arthur looked at Avalon — who seemed ready to seethe — and asked her if that was truly her husband.

"Unfortunately, yes," Avalon replied. "He thinks he's so funny but dead people can't be funny."

"Oh, calm down, Avalon," said the Doctor, "You'll be relieved to know that Nurse Frost can't see the child because there's a perception filter on the children."

"Not feeling very relieved here," Avalon said flatly. "And 'alien tech'?"

"Exactly. It's shielding the children and probably their hiding place as well, it's amazing what some people won't notice."

"You don't say. Well, I guess it's like the laundry closet," Avalon said, "People just walk by that room all the time. I hate doing laundry so I do the same thing but at least I can see it."

The Doctor smirked all of a sudden. "I really love you, wife."

"That's great but what did I do?"

"Let's go see that laundry room!"

"What – I don't want to do laundry!" Avalon groaned.

~ 0 ~

Avalon led both the Doctor and Arthur down the hallway towards the laundry room. She slowed her pace, however, when she saw Arthur was walking slower than normal.

"Arthur, really, if you're not feeling well, I can take you back to your room," she said, "Really. The Doctor can go on his own."

"Not a chance, Avalon," Arthur said sternly, "I haven't had this much excitement in years!"

Avalon chuckled. "Well, I can't argue with that sentiment. I'm a girl who loves excitement too. And adrenaline. Lots of it."

"Is that why your stories are simply the best?"

"Hm, if only you knew, Arthur," the Doctor started, "Most of those stories actually happened."

"What?" Arthur blinked. "That can't be!"

Avalon smirked over her shoulder. "Yeah, I don't behave so well sometimes."

"Sometimes!?" the Doctor snorted.

"Oh shush, you're not that better than me!"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. He had plenty more to say but they reached the laundry room Avalon talked about. Using the sonic, he led the way inside and found not a laundry room but a huge spaceship-esque room instead.

"Woah…" Avalon breathed in at the sight, eyes wide and matching Arthur's as they both took in the sight, "Had I known this was inside, I would've gone in this laundry room a long time ago. Wouldn't mind washing clothes here."

The Doctor gave her a light push from behind, and exchanged smirks.

Arthur wandered towards one of the walls and noted the weblike structure going across it. There were large pods holding small creatures inside. "This looks like a nest..."

Avalon's head flipped in his direction and frowned. "It does. Doctor, why is there an alien nest hidden in the laundry room?"

"It's not a laundry room, dear," the Doctor said, "It's a nest."

"Yes, but why? And for what?"

"For me," went a new voice, and a gruff one at that.

The trio turned around to find Nurse Frost herself standing in front of them. A second later, the Nurse Frost was morphing into a huge, spiky alien creature with tentacles. "Analysis: you are a threat to the surrogates! All threats must be eliminated!"

"Uh, yeah," the Doctor put his sonic away fast, "We need to run! Now!"

"My husband, ever so smart!" Avalon shot him a mock glare.

"Oh, shut up and run!"

The pair started running back for the door but Avalon looked back to see Arthur struggling to move with them.

"Doctor!" she called and returned to Arthur.

"Engaging defensive weaponry!" the creature declared.

Red lasers shot forwards. Avalon covered her head as energy began striking around them. When she was able to lower her arms, she saw Arthur had collapsed on the floor.

"No!" she ran the remaining length and slid on the floor beside him. "Arthur!?" She checked for his heartbeat and was horrified to find none. "Doctor! He's dead!"

"Avalon, move away!" the Doctor exclaimed, trying to make a run towards her. The lasers were much too close to hitting her.

Avalon shook her head fervently. "No, no, no! Arthur!" She fell back from an electric force that enveloped Arthur's body. "NO!"

A dark haired boy was shooting the electrical current towards Arthur.

"Stop that!" Avalon demanded from the boy. Arthur's body was disappearing before her eyes. "I said STOP!" She scrambled to get up, intending on taking the boy herself when the Doctor arrived to pull her away. "No! No! Stop him! Look what he's doing!"

"I'm sorry but we can't touch him!" the Doctor had a tight hold around Avalon's waist. "He's gone, Avalon!"

"Literally!" Avalon cried as Arthur's body disappeared.

The little boy straightened up and marched up to the pair.

The Doctor set Avalon on her feet and stepped in front of her. "Alright now, you can stop," he warned the boy.

But the boy stopped in front of them then turned to face the creature. "Stop," it commanded, "The Doctor and Avalon are my friends."

"Well…that's unexpected," the Doctor blinked. Avalon wiped the tears from her face and stared at the boy, puzzled.

The creature froze in its tracks. "Doctor, Avalon – designated non-hostile," he repeated.

"You-you're in charge of that thing?" Avalon sniffed. "How the…you're a…I am so confused and tired…"

The Doctor reached over and rubbed her back comfortingly. She really needed her rest.

The boy turned around as did the creature, and smiled at Avalon. "It's me, Avalon. Arthur."

Avalon's eyes widened, as did the Doctor's. They both looked at each other, neither one sure whether to believe the boy.

"No, he was — you're just a—" Avalon rubbed the side of her head. "No, no, you're joking. You can't be Arthur."

The Doctor continued to study the boy and his uncertain self-examination. 'Arthur' kept looking at his hands and then put one over his head, eyes looking up as much as he could.

"Why am I so short now?" he asked.

"Oh dear," the Doctor breathed. It was Arthur, but he had no idea how he'd become a child. "Erm, that's...that's Arthur," he told Avalon.

"What!?"

"On the bright side, he's not dead."

"Doctor!"

The Doctor winced. "Yeah, alright." He cleared his throat and turned to the creature. "If we're non-hostile, then you can start giving us some answers. What's your function?"

"Designation. Vorlax regeneration drone. Function: to provide replacement bodies for infantry terminally compromised in conflict," the creature dutifully responded.

"Doctor – English, please?" Avalon said impatiently. Why couldn't one of their 'enemies' be simple and clear?

"It creates clones that absorb people's consciousnesses at the moment of death. It's brilliant, actually!"

"I don't know if that's the word I'd use for this," Avalon said, "It's not exactly asking for consent, is it?" Her eyes then fixated on the creature. "Technically speaking, Arthur is dead but his consciousness was copied and placed in a clone. Yeah, it's cheating death."

"Well," the Doctor fixed the collars of his jacket, "Can't really say anything there, can I?"

Avalon sighed. "No, I guess not." Her eyes flickered to the creature as well. "So why the hell are you posing as a nurse anyways?"

"Compromised by enemy fire. Teleport drive malfunction. Upon arrival in foreign terrain, activated camouflage protocol."

"And you decided being a bitchy nurse was the way to go?"

"Avalon," the Doctor said. He whipped out his sonic again and used it on the creature.

"And now, neither will you," the Doctor said gleefully. A bright light was taking over the creature from within. "I've repaired the Vorlax's teleport. Programmed it with a new destination and started the countdown for departure!"

"Where's it going to!?" Avalon asked.

"I'm sending it to an uninhabited garden world! Somewhere it can't cause any trouble!"

"Now wait a minute!" Avalon hurried in front of the Doctor, arms open wide on her sides. "That thing about consent – it should involve the rest of the residents! They should have the chance to choose what they want to happen to them and their home!"

"But – Avalon!" the Doctor groaned. He hated when she made sense. He stopped the process and lowered his sonic. "What do you want to do? Ask everybody?"

"Yes, why not?" Avalon raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't they deserve to make the choice? The choice that the others didn't get to make?"

The Doctor bobbed his head. "Yeah, I guess so."

"You should!" huffed Avalon. "Given the fact that you can regenerate, you should've thought about this first."

"You can allegedly regenerate too," the Doctor pointed out solely for the argument's sake. He never wanted to see his wife regenerate. "Alright, fine, let's gather them up and ask."

Avalon grinned and dropped her arms on her sides.

~ 0 ~

As soon as they left the now dozens of children in the new uninhabited planet, Avalon and the Doctor returned to the TARDIS for a much needed rest. Avalon was ecstatic that everyone in the nursing home had decided to run away and become children again – they were going to live a new life! That they chose! She of course took special interest in what little Arthur was going to do now. She might check up on him later in the future.

Much later in the evening, now in the TARDIS, Avalon bobbed her head in front of the bathroom mirror. Her voluminous red curls bounced with her. They were damp from her shower.

"Do you think if I regenerated, I could turn into a, I don't know, a teenager?" She walked into the bedroom and rolled her eyes at the sight of the Doctor lying on their bed, carelessly tossing his sonic into the air relentlessly.

"Why on Earth would you ever want to go back to being a teenager?" the Doctor shuddered. "Talk about awkward!"

"I don't know, maybe to see if this time things worked out in my favor?" shrugged Avalon. "That would be a good story, actually."

The Doctor caught his sonic and pointed it at Avalon, his face dead serious when he warned her: "You better not try to regenerate for the sake of a story."

Avalon smirked. "Don't tell me what to do, Fairy Tale Man. I might just do the opposite now."

The Doctor didn't like that joke on any level. He sat upright, putting his sonic away. "I mean it, Avalon. Your regeneration isn't exactly a stabilized thing. We don't know if you actually can regenerate, alright?"

Avalon shrugged again. "I'd have to find out at some point in my life. How long can you live in one body?" She walked up to the bed, climbing over it to sit beside the Doctor.

With a sigh, the Doctor answered her. "Your first body is always different. You live to a very old age – there's no exact number – but it can be your longest body if you take care of it."

"What about the last one?" Avalon asked quietly.

The Doctor's head lowered. "Like the first one. You can live long as long as you take care of it."

"Really? You're not just telling me that?"

"No."

Avalon scooted closer to the Doctor, bringing one arm over his shoulder and leaning her chin on top. "Good, because when you go…I go too."

"Don't," the Doctor warned her again.

"Well, what would you do if I died? Or if I just couldn't regenerate?"

"I'd die with you, but…that's different," the Doctor said, prompting a hard scoff from Avalon.

"How?"

The Doctor sighed. He moved his shoulder until Avalon pulled her arm from him. "You really want to know?"

"If there's an actual answer behind that other than hypocrisy? Yes, I do," Avalon said, sitting on her knees and promptly waiting for said explanation.

"Fine," the Doctor shifted his body to face Avalon, "If you were to die – which you won't – then I'd have nothing again. I've lived for a very long time, Ava. I know what it's like to be truly alone for ages. The darkness that rears its head around is one that I don't want to face again, not when I've lived such wonderful, amazing years with you."

As touched as Avalon was, and she was, she couldn't fathom the idea of letting him simply die with her. It actually hurt her heart to even think about it. "But you could still have centuries to live after, to find somebody new!"

The Doctor shook his head. "I wouldn't. I know I wouldn't because I've already been everywhere before you. I know what's out there and I'm not interested. But if I were to die, I'd want to you to keep going. You haven't seen a quarter of what I've seen already. You haven't lived like I have. I don't want you to waste your precious years – your regenerations – on me because you deserve to live your years. Centuries. You're an aspiring writer, a traveler, and you have too much to look forward to."

Avalon smiled softly at him. "I appreciate the sentiment but what makes you think that I'd want to do any of that stuff if you're not around?"

"You'd have to," the Doctor said simply, "Because your family wouldn't let you do anything else." He reached for her body, tugging her closer until he brought her down on the bed beside her. He interlaced their hands between them. "That's the difference. For better or for worse, that's it."

"Well, it sucks then because it's not fair," Avalon said, shaking her head, "I'm 50 years old…"

"And I'm 1400, talk about an age gap," the Doctor smiled at her. "But see? You've got so much to do, with or without me."

"I choose with you," Avalon said cleverly, snuggling up to him. She simply couldn't imagine a world where she didn't live with her husband.

It just couldn't happen.

~0~

A few hours ago.

All the new children waved happily at the TARDIS as it disappeared. One brunette girl with pigtails especially liked the dematerialization process.

"It's like magic, huh Arthur?" She looked around for her friend but didn't see him right away. "Arthur?"

The TARDIS had completely disappeared now.

The same girl started looking around more carefully as the other children walked away from the area. "Arthur? Arthur, where are you!?" It was like Arthur had disappeared into thin air. "ARTHUR!"

From a distance, a girl with long black hair smirked. Chiyoko loved seeing history unfold itself. One more to check off the list.

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