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#clara oswald fic
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Lady Oswald (Clara Oswald x reader)
Summary: when traveling in Victorian era London, you and Clara slip away to have some much more private fun
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Warnings: SMUT, vaginal fingering (Clara receiving), gender neutral reader, playful/giggly sex, roleplay (Clara pretends to be a high class Victorian lady while you tempt her away from her unsuspecting husband), brief swearing
A/N: roleplay sex must happen at some point in the whoniverse given how often they pop around to different time periods and dress up accordingly. this fic helps reflect that because I'm a whore for Clara in Victorian clothing
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"My, Lady Oswald, you sure do look lovely this evening," you praised highly as your eyes scanned her beautifully dressed frame with obvious interest.
She let out a soft giggle at your flirtation, giving you a half curtsey as a means to humor you. "Why, thank you. You don't look so bad yourself."
You smirked at her response, casually making your way closer. "Tell me, how are things with your husband?" Your tone held underlying disdain for the fictional figure you were referring to.
"Oh, he's out of town again. He leaves me alone for weeks at a time, would you believe it?" Clara did a good job playing the role of a dissatisfied housewife, you had to admit. "I get so lonely, staying in that big house all by myself."
"Oh, I'm sure you do," you openly sympathized, your hands leaving some not-so-subtle touches along her waist and lower back as you spoke. "You know, if I was married to you, I'd never leave you alone."
"I can believe that. From the way it seems by how you're touching me, you'd never let me have a free moment to myself," she jokingly pointed out, though she made no attempts to move away from you, and in fact moved towards your touch.
"Perhaps we should go somewhere more private," you suggested in a low murmur as your hands settled on her hips. "You might be a bit more comfortable away from prying eyes."
Her eyes lit up at the mention of getting to be alone with you. "How thoughtful of you." She leaned in closer so that her face was mere inches away from yours, a mischievous smirk in her eyes. "Well then, lead the way."
You did just that, taking her hand in yours and finding a secluded room in the expensively furnished house. Your lips were on hers as soon as the door shut behind you, kissing her with all the built up passion you had within you.
She moaned softly into the kiss, her arms reaching up to wrap around your neck, pulling you in close. "What would my husband say if he found me now?" She mused out loud, causing you to let out a chuckle at how she was still playing into the role she'd chosen for herself.
"He doesn't ever have to find out, so you don't need to worry about it." One of your hands slipped down to start pulling up the bottom of her dress, eliciting a gasp from her in mock offense.
"How dare you! I'm a married woman," she said in an over the top manner, acting as of you'd just committed a crime. You rolled your eyes affectionately at her dramatics.
"Oh, please. If anything, you should be upset that he never bothers to touch you the same way I do," you lightly teased, your hands fighting to find the end of the long, flowy piece of fabric. "God damn it, just how long is this thing?"
Clara snorted in laughter at your visible frustration. "Here, let me help you with that." She pull the skirt part of her dress up far enough for you to slip your hand under it with ease.
"Oh, thank God. It was either that or untying your corset, and I really did not want to have to fight with that," you commented as your hand moved underneath her dress, caressing her thigh.
She smiled in amusement at your words, biting her lip at the feeling of your hand against her. "I guess it's a good thing I decided to forgo the stockings, then."
"Mm, a very good thing." Your fingertips tiptoed up the soft flesh of her thighs until you found the waistband of her underwear, pulling it down just enough for you to slip your hand beneath it.
Gasping at the sudden friction of your fingers against her folds, she arched her back and pushed her hips closer towards your hand. "Oh, God yes..."
You didn't spend long teasing her, as she was already plenty wet. Slipping two fingers inside her, you leaned your body into hers, your lips brushing against her jaw as you slowly thrusted in and out. "There you go... That's it, sweetheart..."
She whimpered in pleasure, turning her head in your direction and capturing your lips in a tender and loving kiss. "It feels so good, please don't stop," she mumbled against your lips, a soft moan coming from her as your fingers moved deeper.
"I won't, sweetheart, I promise," you reassured her gently, moving your fingers in and out of her in a slow and steady rhythm. Her soft pants and moans began filling the room the longer you touched her for, her hands reaching out to grip onto the front of your coat.
"Oh- oh, God-" She tilted her head back against the wall, closing her eyes as she embraced the pleasure washing over her. "I- I think I'm getting close-" She warned you, her hips starting to move in sync with your hand.
You nodded as you picked up the pace, your other hand finding its way down between her legs so that you could rub her swollen and sensitive clit. A loud moan exited from her lips at the feeling, and it wasn't long after that her body tensed up as she came, clinging to you desperately.
Panting heavily, she pressed her face into your chest while you slipped your fingers out of her and murmured soft words of praise in her ear. "You did so well for me, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you."
A bashful grin covered her face as she peered up at you. "Would it be too much for me to ask for a round two?" You simply let out a laugh as you pulled her in for another kiss.
You both returned at least another twenty minutes later, hastily fixing your outfits so hopefully no one would realize what you'd been doing. Clara's hair was sticking somewhat to her forehead from sweat, and her makeup was a little smudged, but otherwise you didn't think anyone would notice that something was off.
"Where on earth have you two been? I've been looking for you for ages!" The Doctor's voice asked as he popped up from seemingly out of nowhere, quickly making his way over to you.
"Oh, we just got a bit lost, that's all," you lied casually, Clara giggling as you shot her a playful wink. "Shall we, m'lady?" You held out one of your arms to her as you spoke in a playful manner.
She took it gladly, looping her hand through with a bright smile. "After you, my dear," she responded in an equally playful way. The two of the gave each other a knowing look, leading the Doctor to wonder just what the two of you had been up to when you were gone.
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Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated <3
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thefiresofpompeii · 10 days
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the ninth doctor trusted rose enough to believe she would stay with him after his face changed. and twelve took some convincing but towards the end of deep breath accepted that clara would stay by his side no matter how old he looked. but thirteen was so used to losing people. her previous self had loved clara and lost her, he had looked after bill and failed to save her, he had tried to redeem missy and (to his knowledge) lost that cause too. no wonder she wouldn’t trust yaz to stay for her fourteenth face. no wonder she believed she ‘had to do this next part alone’. she had grown quietly distant with the new knowledge that she was no longer even an ordinary gallifreyan, not something of this universe, but outside of it, alien even to the aliens. isolated and inaccessible, standing on an invisible pedestal her ancestors placed her on — a pedestal that more resembled a cage. glass walls on all sides like the forced regeneration chamber. thin glass wall between her and yaz now, transparent but too solid to break through. harder than azbantium when there’s no solid footing to stand on.
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of course yaz would run when she saw her new self. of course she would leave. companions would never stay now, they would never fully understand. when thirteen said that she would need to do ‘this next part’ alone, by ‘next part’ she meant ‘the rest of her (potentially eternal) life’. it’s the classic gambit: push the one you love away before they get the chance to reject you. because they always will, now. either that or they die in horrible circumstances. better to flee like you’ve always done.
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this is why the bigeneration was a narrative necessity, why the giggle was the perfect vision of a positive finale. the original version of the doctor gets to settle down with people that he won’t lose. people that he won’t turn away from. people whose hearts he won’t inevitably break. he’s sitting there in the back yard and he’s not going anywhere…
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…yet somewhere out there in sheffield lives a police officer named yazmin khan. she’s not all sunshine and rainbows — all cops are bastards, after all. sometimes she takes her nameless rage out on a shoplifting suspect. sometimes she hands a parking ticket to a kid that didn’t deserve it. and sometimes she does genuine good for the community, sometimes she goes to the club and dances with strangers, sometimes she sits on the sofa and watches a documentary about space exploration and laughs at the painful inaccuracies. and many miles south, the doctor spends time with his family, but he’ll never get the courage to visit her. because she’d want to run away with him again. and he could never give her that, not anymore. anything but running.
yazmin khan loved the universe in the eyes of her doctor. oh, that doctor in the garden? the stay-at-home-doctor? he’s brilliant, but he would never be enough for her. his presence would never replace the cosmic vistas and myriads of stars thirteen gave her. and she’s never coming back
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i-like-media · 4 months
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I imagine Donna to still eventually ask what the doctor has been up to. Maybe she does so while they're stuck doing a chore together like the laundry or dishes. And the doctor will try to avoid it like he always does, but caves under Donna's stare. He'd still keep it vague, speaking more about the companions the toymaker spoke of and cautiously daring to honour their memory like that while keeping himself away from the hurtful bits. He even jokes a bit about who he ended up becoming. He'd admit he had an obsession with bowties and had sonic sunglasses once, and Donna would laugh and say she'd LOVE to see that.
Then, after a pause, Donna asks if he's ever stumbled upon her with a different face, and with a hushed breath he admits he hasn't.
She grows a bit silent, grieving a thought she wished were reality. And then the doctor pipes up again.
"This isn't actually the first familiar face I've gotten...-WELL not another one of my OWN faces, but certainly something familiar."
Intrigued, Donna stops what she's doing and listens to him explain further.
"When I first got it I couldn't place where I'd gotten it from. I just, knew it was familiar...... -I didn't linger on it as long as I should've and I moved on rather quickly."
"Why?" Donna asked, a bit bewildered at the thought of it.
"I was careless and angry and sort of... Scottish.-ANYways one day me and Clara were dragged to this viking village that had gotten itself into trouble, and we helped them. But this village girl had, uhm... Well she didn't make it. I was so angry -I remember that anger really well. And Clara kept on asking if there was something I could do..."
"Well, was there?" By now both of them weren't doing their chores anymore and all they could hear was the singing of a couple of starlings outside.
"...Yes, but it would've broken some rules."
Donna already knew what exactly he meant by that. She would figure that's the end of it, yet the doctor kept on talking.
"But then as I was rotting in my defeat, I remembered this important day I shouldn't ever have forgotten. The day we were in Pompeii... And only then did I realise that face, MY face, was a reminder of something very important you told me. To just, save someone."
"...So you mean, your face..." The doctor nodded, and Donna couldn't help but finally release the breath she'd been holding with a smile.
"I did save her and she ended up living a long, long, longlonglonglonglong life... But even after hundreds of years, when I doubted myself and needed it most, Donna Noble... Your impact on the world and my life, persisted."
And I imagine the doctor to give her a big, proud smile, before Donna pulls him in for a big hug he wasn't expecting to receive. Because maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what she needed to hear that day.
Then once they return to their chores, I imagine Donna to think about it a bit longer and make a comment. "Well you better never take on my face!" And the doctor would dissolve into a pouty ramble about how he has no control over it while also being a bit disappointed she's said no.
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"And then the Doctor’s extremities exploded into dazzling golden light. Clara felt the energy shooting through her and realized that, if she could still feel pain, she would probably be in agony, maybe dead. Instead, she felt nothing but beautiful warmth."
Absolutely got inspired by this gorgeous concept of a fic: The Mad Idea by TheSaddleman/ @anotheruserwithnoname
What a beautiful, beautiful fic🥹 The image of Clara embracing the Doctor as he regenerates would not leave my mind and so I just had to draw it🤩
Thank you, you inspirational genius✨️
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Doctor Who is a story where humans make themselves gods, become myths staining the tapestries of the universe, and the last member of a race of gods is made human, cowardly and vulnerable and kind in a way no other god would dare make themselves and this is the very thing that allows the god-made-human to survive and even win at the end of the day (and the very thing that often dooms the humans-made-gods)
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colemansdimple · 9 months
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“I love you. Simple as that. You gave me a reason to be. You drive me crazy. You inspire me. You show me wonders. You are my best friend. You are the only man I would never lie to, the only man I will always forgive. I don't care how many came before me and how many will come after I'm gone. But this version of you owns my heart, and it's last beating will be for you.”
“Clara...”
*12 carefully touches Clara's hand like she's about to detonate*
“Don't, please. If you're going to say that timelord and human nonsense again I don't need to hear it. Just, please, these words, from me to you, they're yours now. Keep them or throw them away, I don't care.”
*12 holds Clara's small hand in his and places it on his chest, so she can feel his hearts beating*
“I can't promise us more time. I can't promise there won't be others. But I can promise you this, Clara, my Clara, one of these hearts will always and forever beat for you and only you. To the end of this universe and the beginning of the next. Until all the stars and planets are cold and dust and forgotten. It will still beat for you. And I can only hope that's enough.”
“That is enough, you stupid old man.” :')
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icarianstars · 3 months
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Does anyone have any recs for Doctor Who fics on AO3?
I'm open to pretty much any ships but my favourites are thoschei, twelveclara and tenrose (Also some platonic 14 & Donna fluff sounds great rn)
I'd prefer nothing explicit and no mcd but other than that I think I'll read pretty much anything
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galahadwilder · 6 months
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The first sign that Doctor John Tyler, known to his friends as “The Doctor,” is about to have a truly terrible day—or maybe truly brilliant day, it’s that kind of sign and he’s that kind of man—is when he picks up the morning newspaper and sees all the words on it have been replaced by the repeated “Bad Wolf.”
The second sign is the achingly familiar sound of a TARDIS engine. Not his TARDIS, no—she’s still parked in the back garage, Rose is still in bed, and Mia spent the night at a friend’s house and also doesn’t have a key. Shouldn’t have a key. She probably stole a key. Mia definitely has a key.
The third sign is when, instead of the familiar police box, an entire 1950s American diner materializes on his front lawn.
The small brunette woman who steps out looks… well, to a human, she’d look human. But the Doctor is not human. Or, well, half. Half-human. Half and a bit. Long disused senses scream at him that this woman is wrong, as wrong as Jack, that she’s a frozen instant of time and she doesn’t appear to be breathing. Or have a heartbeat.
“Doctor?” she says.
He blinks. “…Yes, I’m The Doctor,” he says. “Blimey, where’d you get a TARDIS?”
She steps forward with a cheeky grin, holding out her hand for a shake. “My name’s Clara Oswald, and, for lack of a better option… today, I’m The Doctor.”
He takes her hand in his, confused, and shakes. “For lack of a better option?” He doesn’t like the sound of that. He really doesn’t like the sound of that.
“He regenerated,” she says, and he doesn’t need to ask to know which “he” she’s referring to. “Into the Valeyard.”
The Doctor feels his one, singular, human heart stop.
Terrible day, then.
He’d best wake Rose.
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nightmanatee · 1 year
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the bloody pipeline between "look what i'm trying to say is i don't hate you, i could never hate you" and "do you think i care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference" between clara and twelve. the fact that they downplay their feelings to THIS.
it's not "i love you" but "i don't hate you" and not "i love you" but "i care about you" while jumping into one's timestream breaking into echoes, while being too close to destroy the whole universe, while suffering the whole universe's age in personal hell just to see another one again.
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A diner at the end of the universe - DW one shot
Before the fourth war of the Planets of the Tiberius Belt, and before the collapse of the Roplinsky empire, there had been a legend. And this legend was about a diner.
Henry had heard all the rumours. The travelling diner. The old, immortal diner that never seemed to host anyone. Henry knew everything. She knew that, once, the coffee had been really bad, but it was decent now. That if you played a song, the workers let you eat free of charge. That the diner had remained standing, undamaged, in the middle of a war, and when it had ended, they found a camp of refugees waiting for the war to be over.
Henry was eleven years old when she first went to the diner. She had begged and pleaded her Pa to take her since it had arrived. It had taken up residence far side of the park they used to go to play frisbee. Henry had fond memories of the park. The trees were tall, adorned with orange, auburn, ever-falling leaves. There was a story there, that an evil witch had cursed their planet with eternal autumn out of jealously for its brights suns and blue sky. It had meant to scare the children into modesty, but, as it was, young children found a different message in their dying world, that one day, there would be a spring so beautiful it would make the centuries of autumn worth every moment.
Nobody knew why the diner was there, or indeed when it had gotten there. Despite the mystery it was enshrouded in, the diner was rarely visited. This made Henry all the more determined to see it for herself.
When her father swung open the glass diner doors, Henry was immediately hit with a strange sense of familiarity.
Henry hadn’t expected there to be anyone in the diner, but the sight of the empty bar and red, leather seats still seemed strange. Tourists from other planets often frequented the old-Earth themed attractions.
Henry sat on the cool, hard leather and looked at the posters on the wall. Despite its lack of popularity, the diner seemed well kept and neat. The jukebox by the door, a colourful antique thing that probably shouldn’t still work played a soft guitar melody, before a male and female duet began.
The clacking of heels against tile caught her attention. She turned her head and a waitress was there. “Hello there.” the waitress chirped. Henry turned her head and watched as a broad smile graced the lady’s face. “My name is Me, and I will be your server in today. What can I get you?” Her father gave her a lurk, and Henry pointed to the pancakes on the menu. The waitress, giving her Pa a knowing smile, scribbled the order, along with a black coffee and a full English, into a small, discrete notepad.
“Won’t be a minute.” She smiled, before turning away and going to the kitchen.
“So.” Her dad said over a bite of black pudding and egg. “What do you think?”
And Henry smiled at him over half eaten pancakes. When they tried to settle the check, the waitress, Me, insisted it was on the house. They left the diner with their bellies and their hearts full.
Four years later, they came.
It had been on the local news every night for a week, and everyone was terrified, even if they never knew quite why. The diner stood, accompanied by a ship. They all waited to see what would happen.
People had started gathering outside of the diner to see. The crowds grew and grew, and eventually the authorities had gotten involved to crowd manage.
Henry went to the park one afternoon to see. Though it had been years since she had eaten there, she felt strangely protective over the place, like that morning with pancakes and orange juice and her Pa’s bitter coffee had lodged in her a desire to protect the place if she could, in the same way an injured bird attracted human salvation.
It was busier than usual, and it soon became apparent why. Though Henry could not have made her way through the crowds if she fought.  She heard two ladies talking. The sign at the door had switched to closed.
The protest lasted four months. Every day, from morning to dusk people gathered at the edge of the park outside the strange, foreign diner to watch. Waiting, for motion, for the owner of the diner or the owner of the ship to act. Henry was there whenever she could be. Time wore on but the numbers didn’t dwindle.
And then, the next day, the mysterious spaceship had left. Some had said the police had gotten involved, and those who bought it said it was the Silence. But what everyone agreed on was that they were glad to be rid of it.
Then, months later, the diner was gone too. The grass patch where it once was looked unbothered. Like the diner, the strange, old diner, had never been there at all.
It was years later, on the planet Tiberius, when Henry saw the diner again. The new settlement, with its glossy, bright lights and translucent glass contrasted that old diner completely. Henry couldn’t believe it when she saw it. She hardly slept that night. She went the next day.
It was the same as it was before, unchanged. Henry stepped hesitantly through the front door. It was overwhelming, and the same sugary syrup smell of the air stopped her in her tracks.
A door swung open and Henry stared. The woman, black hair done in vintage roles, wearing the same blue waitress uniform smiled at her. Henry watched herself from afar as her legs took her to the booth that she had sat at all that time ago.
“Henry, wasn’t it?” the waitress asked. Her voice sounded the same. “You seem well.”
“Yes.” Henry nodded. Me, that’s what her name was, the namebadge was the same. “I’m well.”
Two cups of black coffee in mismatched mugs were poared. Henry clutched the warm ceramic but didn’t drink.
“You must have a lot of questions.” Me said, smirking. It felt impossible that she looked so relaxed. So young. Henry was barely twelve when she last saw her.
A voice sounded suddenly from behind the door, and Henry watched as Me turned her head and yelled something back. Suddenly, another waitress emerged. In one hand, she held a plate loaded with pacakes, whipped cream and syrup, and in the other, a jug or orange juice.
“Hello Henry.” She said, stopping aside Me. Henry looked down at the stack of pancakes in front of her. Unable to say a thing, she picked up a fork and took a bite.
They were exactly as she remembered.
“I’m sure you have a lot of questions.” The woman said softly, a small smile on her face. Across from her, Me made a noise.
“Let her eat first.” Me scolded gently. Henry watched as Me looked at the other woman fondly. The other woman, in turn, slipped beside Me, and quickly plucked a cherry off Henry’s plate. Before Henry could say anything, the woman laughed a, bright, kind sound, and twiddled the stem between her fingers. Me frowned at her without menace.
“You’ve been waiting for us.” It was then that Henry noticed her name badge. The name was also familiar. She had never met this woman in her life, but the inevitability in which this encounter felt steeped in was not at the back of Henry’s mind.
“Now.” She smiled at Henry. “Do you want to hear a story?”
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lanawinterscigarettes · 2 months
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Hiding Away (Clara Oswald x reader)
Summary: when you distance yourself due to insecurities over your body, Clara does her best to make you feel better
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Warnings: hurt/comfort, some angst, reader has body image issues but it's not specified why
A/N: I've been feeling pretty down lately due to dysphoria so I decided to be self indulgent and write this to help comfort me. I kept the reasoning behind the reader's body image issues vague so anyone who has troubles or insecurities about how they look can read this. just know that I love and cherish each and every one of you that have difficulties with how you look, regardless of the reason. it's okay if you have trouble accepting your physical body as a part of who you are. you're not broken or any less of a person for it ❤
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Clara hadn't seen you all day. In fact, she'd barely seen you the entire week, and while that wasn't entirely uncommon after a disasterous trip with the Doctor (you'd been attacked by the Daleks yet again) it was troubling to her just how little she saw of you.
That's how she ended up standing in front of the bedroom you had on the TARDIS. She really didn't want to pry, but she was starting to get concerned. Plus, she missed you.
Bringing her hand up to the door, she lightly tapped her knuckles against the wood before calling out softly. "Are you in there? It's been awhile since I've seen you and I'm a little worried."
She heard you call out a muffled "I'm fine" through the door. Clara waited in hopes that perhaps you'd elaborate, sighing to herself when you didn't.
"I'm going to come in, if that's alright with you?" She could've said it more as a command, but she posed her words as a question instead, so you'd feel a tad bit more comfortable with her sudden intrusion.
When she still got no answer, she turned the knob and slowly pushed open the door. The lights were out, but from what she could tell you were curled up in a ball on your bed, surrounded by a mountain of blankets.
Clara frowned at the sight, knowing it must be something truly bad to have you acting like this. "Sweetheart?" She called out tentatively as she walked over.
You let out a muffled grunt in response, peeking part of your face out a bit so she could see you. "Hi," you mumbled softly.
She gave you a gentle smile as she took as seat down on the edge of your bed. "Hello, darling. Are you alright?" She carefully asked, bringing her hand up to rest on what she assumed was your back, hoping to comfort you.
"Mm." You closed your eyes and muttered out a soft reply. "I haven't been feeling well recently. Been having problems with my body and how I look."
At your admission of what was really going on, Clara felt her heart break. So that was why you'd been hiding away. "Oh, sweetheart..." She whispered in a sorrowful tone as she knew exactly what you were talking about, even if you didn't say it in so many words. "Darling, I'm so sorry. May I touch you?"
She was careful in asking for your permission to touch you first, knowing how you'd sometimes rather to be comforted from a distance, but much to her delight you nodded your head before letting out a soft "Okay".
She nodded her head in turn before getting down on the bed next to you. As she pulled you close, she was careful not to shift or move your blanket off of you in any way, not wanting to raise your discomfort levels, even by accident.
You allowed her to cradle you close to her chest, nestling against her almost as if you were a small woodland creature who was trying to stay warm for the winter. "Thank you for being here. I really appreciate it," you spoke to her in a quiet voice. "I'm sorry for being so distant lately."
"It's alright, sweetheart. I understand completely, there's no need for you to apologize." Clara leaned her face down and pressed a loving kiss to where she thought your head might be. "I'll be here for as long as you may need me."
You felt as her hand moved up and down your back in a soothing nature while she added, "And just so you know, there's nothing 'wrong' with how you look. I know that might be difficult for you to believe right now, darling, but it's true."
Tears filled your eyes as you felt yourself become emotional. "Thank you..." You choked out while pressing your face into her chest. "Thank you, Clara.... I love you..."
The brunette felt her heart soar when you told her you loved her, even though you'd said it before numerous times. "And I love you," she reply before kissing your head again. "And I'll always be here for you if you need me. Okay?"
You didn't say anything else, but she knew you heard her from the way you grabbed her hand and held it close. The two of you stayed there like that for a good, long while, and even though it didn't diminish your awful feelings completely it did feel nice to have someone there to help take your mind off it, at least for a little while.
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Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated <3
Main masterlist | Doctor Who masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?
🏷 taglist: @theonetruepotato87 @sessa23
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lifblogs · 1 year
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Because I’m reading a time travel book I came up with a Whoufflé/Whouffaldi fic idea. Clara is a time traveler just like the Doctor and they’re enemies, yet they fall in love. Clara is killed by the Doctor, maybe unintentionally, maybe because he felt he had to. He then goes back in her own timeline to find her, and they spend the rest of her life running away from her fate. Maybe it works, but maybe she ends up where she always is supposed to, dead because of him.
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you know there's something to be said for returning to a story and accusingly going "how dare you. how fucking dare you." and you're the author. like, the call is coming from inside the house, bud.
(and yes, you are going to laugh, rub your hands together, and post it anyway, because you want others to suffer as much as you do)
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colemansdimple · 1 year
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I've always had these fic ideas that would come out of nowhere but I never had time to write them down. I think with this blog I can do it, although they will be very very very short. Hope it turns out alright. Wish me luck! 🤞
Midnight tune
By colemansdimple
She was late. She knew it was foolish to care. That it wasn’t meant for her anyways. But this face, it seems to carry a burden or..as she like to think sometimes...a responsibility. This face, this body, was important to him, perhaps the most important of all, although he didn’t remember. Didn’t remember the person she copied it from.
Still she tried to look her best. As she walked inside the pub. She picked a quiet place not far away from the stage but not so close as to make him notice her.
She had a job to do. Her responsibility. Whenever her species copied a being with a consciousness they could maintain a connection to that person, so they could copy them again if needed.
When she first copied the original owner of that face things were so different, she thought she was fighting for the liberation of her people but in the end she only made things worse for them. He changed her mind, and he knew the moment she did it because she was wearing the face of the most important person in the universe to him.
When she heard that Clara Oswald was no more she looked at herself in the mirror. It couldn’t be. The connection was still there although much weakened. Clara was still alive...ish. She had dreams of her, dreams of visiting so many planets she soon lost count. It was wonderful. She missed the planets, she missed the stars. She was stuck on earth for so long now that Clara’s dreams were her only means of traveling again. She didn’t want to lose that connection. She couldn’t bear.
But those dreams all ended with a longing..a feeling as if someone should be there, but wasn’t . And then she realised what it was: Clara missed her Doctor as much as she missed the outside of this boring little planet.
It took a while until Clara herself realised their connection in her own dreams. When that happened the first thing she asked was how he was.
“Why don’t you see for yourself?”
“I can’t ...I just... can’t ...it’s complicated but he can’t see me anymore or he will remember and come after me and if he finds me...if he finds me...i might never let him go again and then...this universe is certainly doomed... and I can’t let that happen.”
So Bonnie and Clara made a pact. Clara would show her as much planets as she could. And Bonnie would show her the Doctor whenever he was on earth, which for Bonnie’s unluck, was all the time now apparently. It seems the Doctor would not travel anymore. He took a teaching job at the local university by day and played guitar in the local pub by night.
And that’s the place Bonnie is right now. The same pub she goes in every night. And she waits. She waits until midnight. He always plays that song at midnight. The same song. As if he’s waiting for someone to walk in and recognise it and claim it as their own. But no one ever does. The only person who could is currently in galaxy 42 , close to the next planet she will be visiting. Her eyes are closed as she focuses hard on a telepathic connection of billion light years away. She can see him.
He seems a bit older somehow. He’s not wearing those sunglasses anymore so she can see the dark lines under his eyes. He’s making that face as though he’s trying to make sense of all the pudding brains noises as they laugh and chat and drink around him. He always liked to play inside the time vortex where everything was quiet. He makes them see all the power of his crossed eyebrows. She gives that sad smile that makes her dimple show. And she listens.
It is midnight on earth. He will play her song again.
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We're Not Promised Tomorrow
Summary: Clara Oswald doesn't know who the two strangers are at first; Ianto Jones & Toshiko Sato are just two people she meets in a bar. But as time passes and they become a trio of battle-scarred drinking buddies, she makes the mistake of looking them up, and remembers the Doctor's words to her: immortality is everybody else dying.
Relationships: Clara Oswald & Ianto Jones, Clara Oswald & Toshiko Sato, Clara Oswald & Captain Jack Harkness, Toshiko Sato/Owen Harper.
Characters: Clara Oswald, Ianto Jones, Toshiko Sato, Owen Harper, Captain Jack Harkness.
Read it on AO3 here.
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camellcat · 5 months
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I keep thinking about this one fic, where amy gets sent back in time to the beginning of s1 by a weeping angel, and like. idk. I want to see clara in s1. idk how'd she get there. probably some wackiness of converging timelines or whatever since we already know she's, like, woven throughout his entire life. but I just wanna see her reaction to nine and rose. specifically nine. and then seeing how different s2 ten is to ANY doctor she's ever known. I want her there!!! plus her and rose would be best friends SORRY I keep saying it but it's TRUE
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