#eleventh Doctor imagine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

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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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 3 months

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Imagine the Doctor reminiscing about your arrival on the TARDIS...

"Do you remember the first thing you said when you walked into the TARDIS for the first time?" The Doctor asked.

Taking your eyes off the wiring in your hands, you glanced at the time-traveler. Of course you remembered.

The Doctor had told you that the first thing companions noticed was that the TARDIS was bigger on the inside but you - no, you said something else.

"I said it was beautiful."

Humming as the memory resurfaced, a smile planted itself as the Doctor watched you with an almost dreamy expression. "Yes, you did."

~ More imagines here ~

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #doctor who x reader #doctor who imagine #eleventh doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor imagine #ten x reader #eleventh doctor imagine #eleven x reader #twelfth doctor x reader #twelfth doctor imagine #thirteenth doctor imagine #thirteenth doctor x reader #thirteen imagine #thirteen x reader

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nghtwngs · 1 year

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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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multific · 1 year

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Forgotten Memories

Eleventh Doctor x Reader

Summary: You never truly knew what it was like to be forgotten.

You wouldn't say there was only one Doctor you loved.

You loved him. Not a version of him.

You met him a long long time ago.

You two fell in love during the adventures and rough times you have been through.

Then came a new one, he was a lot more chaotic, but he loved you the same. It was a bit more difficult for you than you thought it would be.

But you loved him.

If you were honest this Doctor had a lot higher sex drive. You noticed that after every dangerous situation, he pulled you to his bed, shower or bathtub. And you loved that. You enjoyed every moment you spent with him.

He made you laugh so much. For Christmas, you got him a new pair of Converse since he began to fall apart a while ago.

Then he had to go.

"I don't want to go. I am not ready to leave you." he said as you offered him a smile.

"I know, and it is okay. I know that no matter how you look like, you will always love me and I will always love you. We have made great memories, Doctor. We should be ready for new adventures."

Your smile never failed to calm him, even in this state.

You never left his side, waiting for him to change as you sat on the couch not too far from him.

When you saw the light, you closed your eyes.

Waiting for him to go through it before opening your eyes again.

You opened them and saw a man running around, mumbling before he finally noticed you.

"Oh, hi!"

"Hello!"

---

You liked the new doctor. He looked handsome, he was fun and you even liked the bowtie.

However, he seemed to have forgotten about you.

He was convinced you were only a companion of his.

And no matter what you did, you couldn't make him remember. No matter what you said or did.

He was oblivious.

He brought you to places you have been before. It was as if you were completely deleted from his brain along with all memories you two made.

Not. A. Single. Thing.

He didn't even remember your name.

Then, you started to give up hope he would remember and tried to make new ones.

But it was difficult given he was back into his old ways of hiding his feelings and worries. Something you always hated.

"Do you really not remember that we have been here before?" you asked as he showed you the same castle.

"Have we?! When?"

"About... three years ago."

"Three years?! I have known you for that long? But you only appeared in my TARDIS two months ago!"

"I didn't appear. I was always there." you said as you watched the castle during the night. "We should probably go if you want to avoid meeting yourself."

And you two left.

The same night, you asked him to have dinner with you. Well, you say night but on the TARDIS time didn't exist.

"The day you met me, I was in a bad state. Very bad state. I was walking the streets aimlessly, trying to keep warm with moving when I saw the TARDIS at the time I thought it was a regular Police Box, I wanted to call for help. Although I had no idea what I would say, but I knew I needed help. Then, you opened the door and looked at me. I thought you were just someone using the box for a call. But you saved me. In more ways than one. You are everything to me. You showed me a part of life I would have never been able to see. I love you so much that I am willing to leave if that is what you want."

"Leave? I don't want you to leave."

"Then how do I make you fall in love with me again?"

"You did it once, I can feel a special connection, I believe you can do it again."

"I will need your help though. I can't do it all alone."

"I'll help. Yes, I will! I want to! I want you! YES! This is perfect! Oh, I always thought you would make a great wife! YES! We could get married."

"Silly, Time Lord..."

"Huh?"

"We are already married."

Speechless. Not happened many times. But now, he was speechless.

"Married?!"

"Yes, we got married ten years ago... hard to keep track of time but you have the calendar and TARDIS reminds us."

"How long have you known me?"

"Twenty years? Thirty years? Something like that."

"How old are you?" he looked beyond confused.

"Your last... You gave me a device of some kind. Like a chip. You said it basically slows down my ageing while you were looking for a more... permanent solution."

"This is so much. You are my barely ageing wife! Whom I met thirty years ago?!"

"Yes. You never forgot me. Ever, until now. Sure you forgot minor stuff but never my entire existence or the places we have been to."

"I-I need to remember! I forgot so much!"

"You don't have to force yourself." you smiled. "I'm just happy that at least you know now."

He then ran back to the control room, and looked at his buttons.

"WIFE?! And you didn't tell ME!" he yelled at TARDIS who decided to tilt ever so slightly making him fall against the railings.

"Don't fight please." you said to both of them.

"But, why did I forget?!"

From then on, it became his obsession. Trying to figure out how and why he forgot now suddenly.

It was his secondary mission as the first one was to get to know you. After all, he did miss out on thirty years.

The Doctor asked you to move back to his room, after all, it was both of yours.

And now he understood the changes and why he spent more time in there.

One time, he was returning to bed when he found you already asleep. You needed more sleep than he did, so it wasn't unusual for you to sleep while he didn't.

But that time, as he entered as if a cold bucket of water was thrown on him, he felt a memory come back.

It was you and him, in that same bed, laying naked as you laughed. He couldn't exactly recall the conversation but he remembered your smile and the feeling of your fingers running random patterns on his skin.

So, he didn't lose the memories of you, but rather they were locked away in his head for some reason.

And he may never know. But he started to remember more and more. Each one of your kisses triggered a new memory in him and all were amazing.

He one day remembered your wedding.

You two were on a planet, watching as the planet's two suns set at the same time. He glanced at you and noticed just how breathtaking you looked in the light orange and pink glow.

Then the memory of you walking towards him, promising him love until all time ends.

Oh just how he loved you. And the little twinkle in your eyes told him just how much you loved him.

"I don't remember everything, Love. But I remember most." he said during dinner one day. You just nodded.

You knew he was slowly starting to remember.

He started to use phrases or names that he often did before.

You were happy he remembered a couple things, it eased your mind and you felt like you can breathe easier.

"I remember our wedding. And wedding night." you wanted to slap his arm but the smirk on his face made you change your mind. Then his smirk turned into a smile. Such a kind and gentle smile.

"Of course, that is what you would remember...At least you remember."

"I do remember now why I fell in love with you though. I remember during our visit to Argonira, how you saved my life. I remember how you begged me not to die, not to dare to leave you. I remember you cried and it broke both of my hearts. I knew then, I would never be able to let you go."

"You told me that so many times and yet, it never fails to make my heart skip a beat." you smiled at him as he moved a little in his chair.

"I believe our tenth anniversary is coming up, a little blue birdy told me so."

"Is that right?"

"Yes, and I was thinking we could... go somewhere special."

"I'd like that."

He decided to bring you to the place you got married.

The planet however looked different.

"This is beautiful." you said, admiring the view.

"On Earth, today's the day we have met. When you almost ran into me as I was getting out of TARDIS. Today's the day I met you and I didn't even know back then that I fell in love with you. You are my everything. I would watch worlds burn before I want to see you hurt. You are just... I can't even put it into words." you took a step closer to him, letting him pull you into his arms as you put one of your hands around his neck, the other on his chest.

"You don't have to. I know exactly what you mean. Every time I tell you that I love you, I feel like the word 'love' is simply not enough to express how I truly feel towards you. And when our words fail us, we just have to show." you smiled and slowly pulled him down so his lips could meet yours.

"Happy anniversary, My Love."

"Happy anniversary, Doctor."

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

#doctor who #doctor who x reader #doctor who x you #doctor who imagine #doctor who imagines #bbc doctor who #eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x you #eleventh doctor x reader #eleventh doctor imagine #eleventh doctor imagines #doctor x reader #doctor x you #doctor imagine #doctor imagines #tenth doctor x reader #nineth doctor #twelfth doctor x reader

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shuichiakainx · 3 months

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Matt just said on the Zoe Ball Breakfast Show this morning that "House of the Dragon" Season 2 will premiere in August

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yeehawbrothers · 5 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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bi-bard · 1 year

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Clever Boy - Eleventh Doctor Imagine [Doctor Who]

Title: Clever Boy

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor X Reader

Word Count: 6,449 words

Warning(s): major character death, canon-typical violence, mention of past trauma

Summary: [Season 7, Episode 1] The Doctor and (Y/n) are reunited with Amy and Rory when all of them find themselves in the custody of the Daleks with an impossible task before them.

Author's Note: Wouldn't be one of my OCs if I didn't randomly jump around the timeline a lot. If there's a season that you want to see next, let me know and I'll see what I can do!

MORE OF THIS OC HERE!

-----------------------

I warned the Doctor about going to meet the women who wanted to save her daughter.

After all that we went through, it just seemed a little too perfect. Someone being able to send him a message and begging for help just after we avoid true death? I had trouble trusting it.

But he wanted to talk to her. He thought that he needed to.

I went with him for the sake of safety.

We met her on Skaro. The original planet of the Daleks.

She told us the story of Hannah. Her daughter who had been taken away to a Dalek prison camp. People had told her that we could help.

The Doctor noticed the same things that I did. The meeting place, how much she seemed to know about us, and the fact that she had left her daughter behind in the first place.

Mothers don't do that if they want to save or protect their child. They would rather burn the planet around them to the ground than be separated from them. At least, that's what I had learned from Amy.

Once the Doctor started asking too many questions, the woman was forced to reveal herself.

She hadn't escaped anything. She had merely been transformed.

Once the Doctor had been incapacitated, I went to take off running. Another person was already there and before I could truly make any progress, I was lying on the ground next to the Doctor.

When I came to, we were both in a cell.

"Good, you're awake!"

The Doctor pulled me off the floor. I blinked a few times, trying to get rid of whatever tiredness was still clouding my thoughts.

"How are you feeling," he asked.

"Angry and tired," I muttered.

"That's the spirit," he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

The doors slid open as he pulled away. Two Daleks rolled in.

"You will come with us," one of them instructed.

"Where are we going," I asked, not moving from my spot.

"The Doctor and (Y/n) will be reunited with their companions."

I felt a strong hit of fear strike my chest. They had gotten Rory and Amy too. This was the worst-case scenario.

"Move," the Dalek instructed again.

We were led down the hall. One Dalek was leaning in front of us, the other was behind us.

We made it to another cell. Amy and Rory were waiting for us just inside.

As soon as we were all inside, a hatch in the ceiling came undone and the platform we were standing on began to raise itself up.

A room. A circular room full of enough Daleks to fill up a few dozen lecture halls. Far more than they would need to take over a multitude of planets.

"Please, tell me this isn't what I think it is," I spoke to the Doctor quietly.

"What is it," Amy asked. "Spaceship, right?"

"Not just a spaceship," he explained. "The Parliament of the Daleks."

I closed my eyes for a moment. Some part of me wanted to believe that this was all some twisted dream. Another part of me knew very well that it wasn't, but facing the reality around us was too terrifying to contemplate.

We had just escaped death to be handed a death sentence.

I only opened my eyes because I heard the Doctor start telling them to take their shot. I was ready to slap him.

"Save us," the emperor spoke up.

"Excuse me?" I admittedly didn't think much before I snapped back at the creature.

"You will save the Daleks."

I scoffed. Another decision that I didn't think through properly.

The room began chanting at all of us. Just repeating the same three words over and over. Save the Daleks.

As the voices died down, The Doctor started pacing.

After a little while, I heard Amy and Rory mumbling to each other. I tried to pay it no mind, but it was difficult when the tension between them was more suffocating than the fear of being surrounded by Daleks.

I didn't mind the muttering until it turned to me.

"And (Y/n) is constantly glancing at us because they want to help us from whatever is wrong with us," Amy whispered. "'Oh no, Amy and Rory are clearly not alright, how are we going to fix that?'"

"Get better at hiding the tension if you don't want me worrying about you," I said bluntly.

She looked down for a moment.

"We have arrived," one of the Daleks announced.

"Arrived where," the Doctor asked.

"Doctor," the emperor said.

"The Prime Minister will speak with you now," the woman from our original meeting spoke up, motioning over to him.

The Doctor didn't move for a minute. When he did, he didn't turn to face their emperor- sorry- their Prime Minister. He moved over to me.

The Doctor stepped closer to me, taking my hand in his as he mumbled into my ear, "We don't have to do this, We could run-"

"Yes, we do," I cut the Doctor off as I looked at him. "They won't let us walk out of here if we don't."

I saw the sad look cross his eyes.

"I don't care if I die," I whispered. "But I will not be the reason that you or Amy or Rory die. I just won't."

He took a deep breath before kissing the side of my head and stepping back. He turned back to the Prime Minister.

He stopped by the woman. "Do you remember who you were before they emptied you out and turned you into their puppet?"

"My memories are only activated if they are required to facilitate deep cover or disguise."

"Look at that," I replied sarcastically. "We were important enough to switch the memories back on."

The Doctor continued approaching the Prime Minister. I took a few steps closer behind him. Quiet support more than anything else.

"What do you know of the Dalek asylum," the creature asked.

"According to legend, you have a dumping ground," he replied. "A planet where you lock up all the Daleks that go wrong. The battle-scarred, the insane, the ones even you can't control. Which never made any sense to me."

"Why not?"

"Because you'd just kill them."

"It is offensive to us to extinguish such divine hatred."

That statement made me sick to my stomach. I interrupted the Doctor, "Offensive?"

"Does it surprise you to know that Daleks have a concept of beauty?"

"No," I shook my head. "I am just surprised that after so long you can still find ways to be so disgusting. Hatred so beautiful that you have to keep hurt, scared creatures in a cage like a personal zoo? Such a fixation on the emotion that it makes you go against your entire purpose. Kill what's different."

The Doctor started walking down the ramp towards me.

"Perhaps that is why we could never kill either of you," the Prime Minister stated.

I was ready to stand and argue, but I didn't get the chance before a hole in the middle of the floor opened. We both walked over to it, looking down at the planet just underneath it.

"The asylum occupies the entire planet," the woman- Darla- explained. "Right to the core."

"How many Daleks are in there," the Doctor asked.

"A count has not been made," she answered. "Millions, certainly."

I was next to speak up, "All still alive?"

"It has to be assumed. The asylum is fully automated. Supervision is not required."

"Armed?" Amy looked over.

"A Dalek is always armed."

"What color?"

We all looked at Rory as the question came out of his mouth.

"Sorry, there weren't any good questions left."

"There's a signal being received from the very heart of the asylum," Darla explained. Just as she did, music began playing over the speaker.

"What is the noise," a Dalek yelled. "Explain! Explain!"

"It's me," the Doctor replied.

"Oh God," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Sorry, what?" Rory turned to us.

"I'm playing the triangle," the Doctor grinned, mimicking his motion.

"And hasn't one let me forget that fun fact," I added.

"Carmen," the Doctor pulled the sonic screwdriver out of his jacket and scanned the console that the Dalek had been using. "Lovely show."

I follow him back up the ramp. "Please tell me you're-"

"Tracking back the signal so we can talk to them," he finished my sentence for me.

"Dibs!" I shoved him out of the way. "Hello? Hello... Carmen?"

"Creative."

"Shut up," I muttered. "Hello! Come in, come in. Someone there?"

"Do you read me?" a voice rang out.

"Loud and clear," I replied, smiling properly for the first time since the trip had started. "Identify yourself and report your status."

"Hello," the voice said.

"Hello," I repeated.

"Are you real? Properly real?"

"Actually, properly real. Living, breathing, and bleeding if I am not careful."

"Oswin Oswald," she introduced. "Junior Entertainment Manager, Starship Alaska. Current status: crashed and shipwrecked somewhere... not nice. Been here a year, rest of the crew missing, provision's good but keen to move on."

"A year," I asked. "Are you okay? Under attack?"

"Some local life forms. Been keeping them out."

I looked at the Doctor, scared and confused by the story. "Know what they are?"

"I know a Dalek when I hear one, yeah," she replied.

"What have you been doing all alone, for a year? Against the Daleks?"

"Making soufflés."

I let out an amused huff. "soufflés."

"Where do you get the milk?" the Doctor butted in. I furrowed my eyebrows. It was a good question.

"This conversation is irrelevant." The Dalek did not agree with me. It shut off the signal.

"No, it isn't," the Doctor snapped back.

"Someone crashed into your asylum, meaning there's a big hole in whatever security you had," I joined in. "One thing gets in, millions can get out."

"Even you don't want that," the Doctor added.

"The asylum must be cleansed," the Dalek spoke.

"Then, why is it still here," the Doctor asked. "You have enough firepower to blast it out of the sky."

"They can't," I concluded. "The security that they put on the planet won't allow it. That's why we're here."

"The asylum's forcefield is impenetrable," Darla stepped forward. "And can only be turned off from the inside."

The Doctor went walking down the ramp again. "A small task force could sneak in. Send a couple of Daleks."

He paused halfway down the ramp, noting the silence in the room.

"Oh," he mumbled. "That's good. They're too scared to go down there. What do the Daleks do when they're too scared."

To put it very simply, they were going to launch all of us into a planet. They gave us these bracelets that fended off the nanocloud, which would turn everything that wasn't Dalek into... Dalek. Once we made it down, it was our job to figure out how to shut off the forcefield so they could destroy it.

We were led back to the opening in the floor, where a gravity beam was waiting for us. I reached over and grabbed the Doctor's hand. He rubbed a circle into the skin of my hand with his thumb.

"Ready," I asked.

"Are we ever," he grumbled back to me.

I was hoping to get a chance to jump into the gravity beam on my own. We didn't. Instead, we were all pushed into it.

My next memory was lying in the snow. I groaned as I pushed myself up. I looked around at my surroundings. There was nothing there that I could make any sense of.

I jumped when music started playing next to me. I looked down at an eyestalk looking at me. I moved to lay on my stomach in front of it.

"Oswin?" I called.

"Sorry!" she replied. "I pressed the wrong switch. You okay?"

"I just got launched at a planet, but I could be worse," I shrugged. "How are you doing that? This is Dalek technology."

"It's very easy to hack."

"Respectfully, no, it really isn't. Where are you?"

"Somewhere underground... I think. Ship broke up when it hit. You coming to get me?"

"(Y/n)!"

I jumped at the sound of the Doctor's voice. The camera disappeared as soon as he spoke.

"Dammit," I mumbled, pushing myself to stand up.

"Who are you talking to?"

"Oswin," I replied.

"Soufflé girl?"

"She has a name."

"Doctor!" Amy came running at us from the other side of a hill.

The Doctor helped steady her.

"Where's Rory," he asked.

"There was another beam," the man pointed vaguely behind us all. He continued following us.

We found a hole in the ground. It was deep enough that we couldn't see the bottom.

The man from earlier led us to a hatch that he had been trying to get into. He explained that his team had come down two days ago and that there were twelve other escape pods.

"Alaska," Amy read out, looking down at the name printed on the ship. "That's the same as Soufflé Girl."

"Two days," I asked, looking at the man. He nodded before opening the hatch. "It can't be the same as her. She's been here a year."

We all followed him down.

"There should be some climbing rope long enough for that hole," he explained.

I stepped around one of the seats when I spotted a hood. I leaned down only to be met with a skeleton sitting in the seat. Can't be merely two days old. It couldn't have been.

"Won't you introduce us to your crew," the Doctor asked. I grabbed his arm and stepped as close as possible. "What?"

"They're dead," I mumbled. "That... That one is a skeleton. They can't be two days old."

"Guys, this is the Doctor, Amy, and (Y/n)," the man introduced us. Nothing. I stepped a little further back from the seats. "Guys?"

The Doctor stepped forward, tapping the one I had seen on the shoulder. Its head rolled back, revealing the skeleton. The Doctor checked all of them. With the sonic screwdriver for some reason... they were skeletons, he didn't need to use the screwdriver. They were all dead.

"That's not possible," the man argued. "I just spoke to them. Two hours ago. We were doing engine repairs."

"I'm sorry, but there was no way that's possible. They've been dead a long time."

"Of course," he muttered. "Stupid me. I died outside. The cold preserved my body."

I stepped closer to the ladder, hoping to be ready to run from the man.

Then, an eyestalk started to protrude out of his forehead. "I forgot about dying."

The Doctor grabbed the fire extinguisher off the wall and sprayed it at the man. Amy hit the button next to the door, only shutting it once the man was secured on the other side.

"How'd he get all... Daleked," Amy asked.

"He didn't have a bracelet," I explained. "Nanocloud."

"Microorganisms that automatically process any organic matter, dead or alive, into a Dalek puppet."

"Anything that attacks the asylum immediately becomes on-site security. We've seen the interesting abilities of nano-tech."

"Living or dead?" Amy said. I paused, eyes going wide as I looked around the room.

"The wristbands protect us," the Doctor continued rambling. "The only thing keeping us from going completely-"

"Doctor, shut up," she cut him off. "Living or dead?"

"Yes, exactly, living or..."

The bones of the skeletons started cracking as the creatures stood up. The Doctor took off over the tops of the chairs once he noticed. I mostly followed his lead.

We only had true trouble once one of the creatures had caught Amy's wrist. The door slamming shut was enough to get the thing to let go.

The two of them leaned against the door while I stood across from them.

"Unauthorized personnel may not enter the cockpit," a familiar voice rang out over the intercom in the room.

"Oswin!" I jumped a bit. "I lost you back there, you alright?"

"I'm fine, just lost the signal."

The Doctor moved around me, taking a seat at the console, where a camera was pointed at us.

"Oi, Mr. Grumpy, don't get too close," she said. "Ooo, bad combo. No sense of humor and that chin."

I bit the inside to keep from laughing, even though I heard Amy chuckle behind me.

"What is wrong with my chin," the Doctor asked. He looked over at me.

"Nothing," I promised.

"Careful, don't poke their eye out."

I couldn't stop the laugh that came out of my mouth.

"(Y/n)," he whined.

"Sorry, sorry," I held my hands up. "I think your chin is... very handsome."

"I'm scanning you," Oswin informed us. "You're in another of the escape pods from the Alaska. It seems your power's on."

"How are you hacking into everything," I asked. "That should be impossible."

"Long story," she said simply. "There a word for total screaming genius that sounds modest and a tiny bit sexy?"

I chuckled. "Not that I know off the top of my head, sorry."

"What's your name again?"

"(Y/n)."

"That'll work."

I let out a stunned scoff. "Oswin!"

"What?!"

"I am in a very committed relationship," I explained.

"With the chiny one?"

I had to hold back the laugh that wanted to escape.

"Is it him?"

"Yeah, it's him," I replied.

"Aw, cute," she gushed. "I was hoping it was the redhead."

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. I saw the Doctor's frown and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. He let a small grin cross his lips.

There was a beep on her hand. "Check the floor. I'm picking up a breach at floor level. There could be a way out. See you later!"

There had been a hatch on the floor. There was a rope going down into wherever it led. Someone else's escape route.

"This must go straight down to the asylum," the Doctor muttered as he unlocked the hatch.

"Where Rory is," Amy replied.

"Speaking of Rory," I started. "Anything you wanna talk about?"

"Are we going to do this now," she asked.

"What happened?" I countered.

"Just stuff, you know. We split up. What can you do?"

"What can I do," the Doctor mumbled, looking at her.

"Nothing," she explained. "it's not one of those things that you can fix like your bow tie."

The Doctor looked down again.

"Oh, don't give me those big, wet eyes, raggedy man. It's life. Just life. That thing that goes on when you two aren't around. We don't all get to end up traveling all of time and space with our true loves."

I felt a sting of guilt in my chest. I had always known that the Doctor and I were the exception. But Rory and Amy were each other's person. They were stuck together by the universe. They couldn't get away from each other if they tried.

I had grown to see them as an example of sorts.

I looked back at Amy. Maybe she saw us the same way.

There was a rope ladder going all the way to the bottom.

"Someone else got out this way," Amy noted.

"Let's go and find them," the Doctor muttered. He ran to the camera by the door.

They were holding up one of the bracelets. Amy's bracelet.

"Amy," the Doctor whispered.

"What's going to happen to me," she asked. "Seriously? Tell me. What?"

The Doctor didn't reply. Instead, he ran off to the ladder, leading the way down. I let Amy go before me. I followed right behind them, pulling it shut behind me.

"So, what's going to happen to me," she pushed again. "And don't lie. Because I know when you're lying to me and I will definitely fall on you."

"The air all around is full of micro-machines," the Doctor explained. I was stunned that he answered at all. "Robots the size of molecules. Nanogenes. Now that you're unprotected, you're being rebuilt."

By that point, we had made it to the bottom. Granted, by that point, we had already had this conversation at least four times.

"So what happens? I get one of those things sticking out of my head?" she continued.

"Physical changes come later," the Doctor grabbed her hand, pulling her along with us.

"What comes first? How does it start?"

"Your mind. Your feelings, your memories. And I'm sorry but it's already started."

"How do you know?"

"This is the fourth time we've had this conversation."

"I'm scared now."

"Hang onto that," I told her. "Scared isn't Dalek. Hold onto anything that isn't Dalek."

The door opened in front of us.

There was a smell coming from the room.

"What's that," Amy asked.

The Doctor closed the door again. "Stay right there. Don't open this door."

"Oswin," I yelled. "Can you hear me?"

"Hello (Y/n) and the Chin, I have visual on you," she replied. "(Y/n) and the Chin. You two could start a band."

"Why exactly don't we have a visual on you," the Doctor spoke up. "Why can't I ever see you?"

"Limited power, bad hair, take your pick," she explained. "There's a door to your left. Open it."

I looked to my left and went to the door. "Alright."

The door slid open to reveal a small screen.

"I'm going to send you a map to that screen," she explained.

I nodded and stepped inside. "Ready when you are, Oswin."

"Oh, your friend is safe. I can get you to him."

"You found Rory," I asked.

"Yup," she confirmed. "Well, I call him Nina. Personal thing."

I furrowed my eyebrows for a moment before focusing on the screen again.

I watched as she typed away. I followed the map that she was using to guide us. I heard the door open.

"How many Daleks are right ahead of us," I asked.

"Ten, twenty," she estimated. "Some are catatonic, but they do have firepower."

"Doctor," I tried to whisper-shout at him. "Where's Amy?"

He turned around and ran into the room that we had been avoiding earlier. She was standing in the middle.

"How do we get past them," I turned back to Oswin.

The Doctor and Amy shoved their way into the closet with me.

"Okay then," I gasped as I was shoved into the wall.

The sounds just outside the door powered down. The two of them stepped out first and I awkwardly followed.

"It's damaged," the Doctor said.

"Okay, but what do we do," Amy asked.

"Identify me," he turned to the Dalek. "Access your files. Come on."

"You are the Predator," the Dalek spoke.

"Access your standing orders concerning the Predator."

"The Predator must be destroyed!"

"And how are you going to do that? the Doctor stepped forward. "A Dalek without a gun? You're a tricycle with a roof. How are you going to destroy me?"

"Self-destruct initiated," the Dalek shouted.

"What's it doing," Amy asked.

"Destroying the Predator," I explained.

The Doctor lifted the Dalek's hood.

"Self-destruct cannot be countermanded," the Dalek said.

"I wasn't looking for countermand," the Doctor replied. "I'm looking for reverse."

The Dalek proceeded to roll backwards into the large room. It exploded, taking out the other Daleks with it.

We had all been thrown backward.

I shoved myself off the floor. The Doctor picked up a now unconscious Amy and followed me. Rory was standing on the other side of the room.

"Where have you been," I asked.

"Oswin put me in a- a room," Rory pointed behind him. "Is Amy alright?"

"Just unconscious," I explained. "Where's the room?"

He led us into some other room off to the side. The Doctor placed Amy down and we all waited for her to wake up. While we did, the Doctor explained the situation of the stolen bracelet.

"Will the sleeping help her," Rory asked. "Slow down the process?"

"You'd better hope so," Oswin's voice filled the room. "Because pretty soon, she's going to try and kill you."

Amy woke up a moment later, groaning as she did, "Ow."

"Hey," the Doctor said. "Still with us?"

"Amy, it's me," Rory grinned at her. "Do you remember me?"

She reached up and slapped him as soon as the words left his mouth.

"I'd take that as a yes," I advised.

"Same old Amy," the Docter mumbled.

"Do you know how you make someone into a Dalek," Oswin asked. She was quieter now. Like she was scared. "Subtract love, add anger. Doesn't she seem a bit too angry to you?"

"Well, somebody's never been to Scotland," Amy replied, pushing herself up.

"Oswin," I said. "How are you... okay? Why hasn't the nanocloud converted you?"

"I mentioned the genius thing, yeah?" she explained. "Shielded in here."

"Clever of you," I muttered, trying to ignore the nervousness in my stomach. Hope. If I needed one thing right now, it was hope. "Now, the Daleks said that this place was fully automated. But it's a wreck."

"I've had nearly a year to mess with them and not a lot else to do."

"A junior entertainment manager hiding out in a wrecked ship, hacking the security systems of one of the most advanced warrior race the universe has ever seen," the Doctor spoke up as he was scurrying around the room. "But you know what gets me about you, Oswin? The soufflés."

"The soufflés," Amy asked.

"Where do you get milk for the soufflés?"

He turned to the rest of us.

"Seriously, is no one else wondering about that?"

I didn't want to admit that I had found it easier to ignore it. I merely looked down. Rory shut it down more bluntly than I had.

"So, Doctor," Oswin piped up. "I've been looking you up. And you, (Y/n). You're all over the database. Why do the Daleks call you the Predator? Why are you lot such a threat?"

"Not a predator, just a man with a plan," the Doctor replied.

"You've got a plan?"

"In no particular order," the Doctor explained, "we need to neutralize all the Daleks in the asylum, rescue Oswin from the wreckage, escape from the planet, and save Amy and Rory's marriage."

"Alright, I'm counting three lost causes, anyone else," Amy asked.

"Oswin, there's a Dalek ship in orbit," the Doctor said.

"Yeah, got it on the sensors," she replied.

"The asylum has a forcefield. The Daleks are waiting for me to shut it off. As soon as I do, they'll burn this whole world and us with it. So, my question for you is this, how fast can you drop the forcefield?"

"Pretty fast."

"Good. This is a teleport, am I correct?"

"Yeah. Internal use only."

"I can boost the power once the force field is down. And we can use it to beam us right off this planet," the Doctor explained, messing with the teleport.

"But you said that when the forcefield is down, the Daleks will blow us up," Rory pointed out.

"That's why we have to be quick," I spoke up.

"Fine, we'll be quick, but where do we beam to," Amy asked.

"The only place within range. The Dalek ship," the Doctor answered.

"They'd exterminate us on the spot," Amy said.

"We'd survive four seconds longer," Rory agreed.

"What's wrong with four seconds," the Doctor smirked. "You can do loads in four seconds."

"Oswin, how fast can you drop the forcefield?" I called.

"I can do it from here," she explained. "As soon as you come and get me."

"Why don't you drop the forcefield and come to us," I asked.

"There's enough power in that teleport for one go," she replied. "Why would you wait for me?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"No idea, never met you," she said. "I'm sending you a map so you can come and get me."

"(Y/n)," the Doctor grabbed my arm as I went to run over. I yanked my arm away.

"I'm going to do this," I told him bluntly. "Stay here. Keep them safe. If we don't make it in time, then I want you to go. Got it?"

He stared at me for a moment before letting out a sigh. "Make it back."

"I plan to," I smirked a bit before looking at the map. As I took off, I turned back to him. "I love you!"

"Love you too!" I heard him say behind me.

I stepped out into the hall.

I could hear banging and the sounds of Daleks screaming various threats and promises. They only got louder as I rounded the corner. I took a deep breath as I continued moving.

It was terrifying.

The closed walls, the sound of Daleks yelling. It was all so familiar. I could vividly see myself back in that little box that I had known for far too long. The practice scenarios where I would be faced with almost exactly this situation.

I tried to block out those memories. I had other things to focus on at the moment.

In a more relative sense, it had been going well. I hadn't been met with any loss Daleks and I was close to where I needed to be.

"Oswin," I said quietly. "I think I'm close."

"You are," she replied. "Less than twenty feet away. Which is the good news."

"And the bad?"

"You're about to pass through intensive care."

"Oh, great," I muttered, taking another deep breath.

The door slid open.

It was quiet. Daleks were lined up in cages, all dormant. The lights were off.

"Why are they here," I asked.

"Don't know. Survivors of particular wars. Spiridon, Kembel, Aridius, Vulcan, Exxilon. Ringing any bells."

I felt like the air was being forced out of my lungs. I was being strangled without anyone else around. My legs felt shaky as if my knees were prepared to give out at any given moment. And my head. My head hurt and was swirling with a thousand thoughts and memories.

And all I could was keep walking.

"Yeah," I answered, pausing to look at one of them. "These are the Daleks of the Time War."

I wanted to vomit.

"I was supposed to stop it. I couldn't."

I heard one of the Daleks coming to life behind me. "Savior."

"I'm sorry, what did it call you?"

"Nothing," I replied. "A name that I gave up a long, long time ago."

More Daleks started to wake up. I walked away, hoping to get out of the room as fast as possible.

"Oswin, there's a door but it won't open," I said. "They can't be far away now."

"Hold on. There's a release code, but I just need to find it. Is there anything happening out there?"

"No. But I don't like the silence any more than the yelling."

I heard chains rattling behind me. My breathing spiked again.

"Oswin!"

"Just a second!"

I heard the snapping of chains and my name being yelled again. I pressed my back to the door, putting as much distance between me and the approaching Daleks as I could. None of them seemed to have guns, so I should have been safe.

I closed my eyes, curling in on myself.

And then, it stopped.

All of it just froze.

"Oh, that is cool," I heard Oswin say as the Daleks turned around and moved away from me. "Tell me, I'm cool."

"What did you do," I asked.

"Hang on, I think I found the door thingy-"

"No, I need to know what you just did," I cut her off.

"The Daleks have a hive mind. Well, not really, it's more of a telepathic web."

"And?"

"I hacked into it," she explained. "Did a master delete on all the information connected with the Savior or (Y/n). Including information about the Doctor and your friends."

I let out a breathy laugh at the idea, tears filling my eyes. "You made them forget me."

"Good, huh," she asked. "And here comes the door."

"The Doctor has tried hacking into the path web before. He could never find a way to do it. I never even tried because of how much security they've got on it."

"Come and meet the woman who can."

The door slid open behind me. I scrambled inside but froze just in the doorway.

"Hey, you're right outside," the voices were mixing together. One Oswin's and the other was... Dalek. "Come on in."

"Oswin," I said. I took a step forward. "We have a problem."

"No, we don't," she replied. "Don't even say that. I joined the Alaska to see the universe and crashed on my first trip. You're here. You can take me to see it all. Properly."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Does it look real to you? That little place you're in right now?"

"It is real."

"It's a dream," I said. "Your mind constructed a safe place for you. Reality got too terrible. Too scary."

Her voice disappeared. All that was left was the Dalek's. "Where am I?"

"They did a complete transformation on you," I explained. "You are... a Dalek."

"No, no, I'm not a Dalek. I'm human."

I stepped forward, gently touching the shell of the creature. "You were when you crashed. But they found you... you climbed out of that pod we found."

"I'm human."

"Not anymore. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

There was no answer.

"You're a genius. They need genius."

There was still no response.

"I am so sorry," I started walking backward, closer to the door. "The Doctor asked earlier, but you never had to answer. Where did you get the milk? And the eggs? For the soufflés?"

"Eggs..." the Dalek voice shot fear into my stomach.

"I'm sorry."

"Ex... term... i... nate."

"Oswin," I muttered, stepping further back.

"Exterminate!"

"Oswin, wait!"

I scrambled back toward the door as the chains snapped off.

"You don't have to do this! They turned you but look at what you've done so far! You are still good! You are still you! Oswin, please!"

The Dalek stopped just in front of me.

"Oswin?"

"Why do they hate you," she asked. "You and that man. Why do they hate you so much?"

"I fought them. With him. More times than I can count."

"We have grown stronger out of fear."

"I know. That's... That's part of why we tried to step away. Stop giving them a reason to be stronger."

"Run."

"What," I asked. "What did you say?"

"Run," she repeated. "I've taken down the forcefield. The Daleks have begun their attack. Run.

I blinked at her a few times. I couldn't think of what to say.

"Oswin-"

"I am Oswin Oswald. I fought the Daleks and I am human. Remember me."

I grinned at her. "Yeah. I will. Thank you."

"Run," she urged me. I nodded and turned around as I heard something start crumbling around me. "Go save that clever boy of yours... and remember."

I have never thought about how difficult it is to run while you're crying. It hinders every system you had. Eyesight and breathing and your sense of direction gets shot by the emotion.

It was a miracle that I made it to the teleport in time. I jumped into the Doctor, hugging his as tight as I could.

"You alright?"

"We don't have time," I shrugged it off as I stepped back. There was another rumble. "We have to go."

He nodded. He hit a button on his control panel.

The Daleks were panicking when we got there. We ended up inside the TARDIS, but we could still hear them worrying about being under attack.

"You guys should have seen this coming," the Doctor yelled. "The thing about me and teleports is that I have really good aim. Pinpoint accurate, in fact. Or, to put it another way..."

"Please don't," I begged, going to grab his arm.

"Suckers!"

He stepped out of the TARDIS before I could stop him. I followed him out. If I couldn't stop him, then I could be next to him when he got himself killed.

The Dalek yelled at us, "Identify yourself! Identify!"

"What," the Doctor asked. "You know me."

"She did it," I whispered.

"Who did what," the Doctor turned to me.

"We should go," I said.

The Dalek yelled again, "Identify yourself!"

"The Doctor... The Oncoming Storm-"

"Titles are not meaningful in this context. Doctor who?"

I let out a sharp, relieved breath at the question. And then at how the question spread like wildfire.

"Come on," I grabbed the Doctor's hand.

He didn't question me any further, just following me back inside as the Daleks continued yelling.

Our next stop after that was Rory and Amy's home. They stepped out, waving to us as we went.

As the TARDIS took off again, it felt like the adrenaline finally wore off, I felt the tears coming back to my eyes.

I covered my mouth, leaning forward a bit and laying my other hand on the railing. The sobs started long before I ever had a chance to stop them.

"(Y/n)?- Hey," the Doctor walked over. He reached out and touched my arm.

It was as if that made me snap back to my senses. I quickly wrapped my arms around him, hiding my face in his shoulder.

"Hey, hey," he whispered, hugging me back. He ran his hand up and down my back a bit. "What happened?"

"I was too late," I muttered. I leaned back, wiping my eyes as I did. The Doctor's hands touched my sides. "I... I found her, but they... they had done a complete transformation."

"The milk and eggs," he mumbled.

"She... She wasn't even aware of it," I continued. "That's why she thought she had all of this stuff. She really thought that she was still human. That she was just waiting so I could save her."

The Doctor leaned over to kiss my forehead before pressing his against mine. "There was nothing you could have done."

I didn't respond for a moment.

"(Y/n)..."

"She did something," I said. "She got into their telepathic web and... she deleted all of the information about you and me."

"Really?"

"She saved our lives. And all I gave her was false hope."

The Doctor pulled me into another hug. "I'd like to think you saved hers as well. In some way."

I closed my eyes.

"A new way of thinking can save someone more than we'll ever know."

I would love to think that he was right.

And maybe he was, but it would be a very long time before I accepted that possibility.

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penguinwithitsarseonfire · 2 years

Text

Falling feels like flying (till the bone crush)

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x Reader, Tenth Doctor x Reader, Ninth Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 2, 243

Warnings: All angst, no happy ending

Summary: Reader is faced with a gross realisation. What everyone has been saying about her is true, she's a flight risk. Now it's up to her to show the Doctor that.

A/N: This entire thing literally only exists because I read Flight Risk by @storytelling-timelord so from one Elle to another, thank you for giving me the jump start I need to get to writing again!! For everyone else, I super recommend reading her stuff!!

On a day that wasn’t then, but long before today, you would wonder why Jack Harkness would call you this. Why, saddled up in the console room, giving the Doctor a private, sad smile, he would map the words onto your skin, a brand of hot iron at the base of your neck.

“She’s a flight risk,” he would say. He would warn.

And the Doctor would scoff, his Northern drawl spilling from him with ease, with the confidence of a man who was used to being right, of reading people right.

He would say that’s absurd, that you were human, too human. The kind of human who would look just as quickly at a lone daffodil in a field, or a new-born nebula, and see nothing but the beauty in the matter that formed it, of the star dust that danced around you in every bated breath.

No, he would say. You ran because you ran with the Doctor. You wouldn’t run without him.

And Jack would move to reply, his eyes far more honest that the rueful grin he forced his features into, but you would skip into the console room, curious, but unspoken. It had been some time since you established this little tradition with the Doctor, a dance just shy of moving in.

Every month – maybe, time was never accurate on the TARDIS – you would gather more of your belonging, tucking them into the space that made up your room.

And the Doctor would grin, look at you with an expression you wouldn’t be able to name, but would later learn, and ask if you were ready to go.

And Jack would grin, eyes dark though smile bright, pat the Doctor on the shoulder and ask for his own pit stop.

Today however, you roamed the TARDIS’ ever sprawling library, greeting each hard bound book, each fraying paperback, like an old friend.

And there, in golden letters, printed in the grain of an old bookshelf sagging under its own weight, was what you had never thought to be afraid of. Your name.

Your fingers ghosted over the imprint, trailing every stroke, every curve.

Your body went cold.

You knew these halls, floated through them like ink flows on paper, yet you had never seen this. Did you dare ask how long it had been there? Breathe your knowledge of this into the air? What would the Doctor say? Would he tell you he had been the one to do this? Would he see how terrified it made you feel?

Your free hand went to the back of your head, fingers trailing over the fine hair from where your skull met your neck. Your hand stopped as it met the base of your neck. In an instant you gripped tight.

Flight risk.

In the beginning, you found falling felt rather like flying. The Doctor didn’t steal your breath, he would snake into your lungs with an easy grin and bright laughter, and you found yourself giving it to him.

You hadn’t known yet, how easily Sarah-Jane Smith saw things. You didn’t yet know about the knowing. How important knowing was when it came to love.

But she knew, you think now she always had.

You only knew four things at that point, which you had thought was enough. First, you loved the Doctor. Second, he loved you. Third, loving one another was hard – harder than anything you had ever done.

Fourth, it was worth it.

But Sarah-Jane Smith had gripped onto the Doctor's arm, eyes wide and afraid as she spoke to him. She was speaking from experience, recognising him in you. Recognising why he loved you.

“She’s a flight risk,” she would say. She would implore.

And the Doctor would laugh, a full body movement that would sweep into his coat. He would say that you were fast, that lighting crackled beneath you, and he was the thunder – hand gripped tight in yours. That flight was fine because he was flying with you.

And you wouldn’t intrude on the way their conversation would unfold. You would turn off the monitor in the console room, toying with the idea of flight.

Because the Doctor was right, wasn’t he? You were already flying, where was the risk if the flying was for him?

Today however, you stumbled into the hallway, tripping over the slippers you had left at the foot of the library door. Your hand grazed the nearest wall, fingers mapping the grooves and nubs that you had tracked thousands of times.

Thousands? Had you really been here long enough for thousands?

You twisted down the hallway, finding your bedroom. You pawed for the light switch, a thin smear of dust pressing into your fingertips. Under the soft light, it barely looked familiar.

Trinkets you had long forgotten about sat on makeshift shelves, detailing adventures you would so often bring up in soft jokes and old laughter. An old journal sat on a desk, framed by photographs and pressings from flowers and leaves of various planets, untouched. Even your bed was locked in time, the sheets firmly tucked in all corners – unslept and well kept.

It had been so long since this had been your room, the room you spent your time in, the room you slept in. The evidence was clear as day. This room, which had once been yours, inviting and warm, was foreign. You were a stranger in your own space.

Had you lost yourself?

Flight risk.

Three faces you had known him. Three lifetimes of learning – of cataloguing and developing your very best knowing. Because it was the knowing that was key to any good relationship.

Like the knowing in how the Doctor took his tea, always with a dash of milk, always two sugars.

And in the knowing of how the Doctor looked at the stars, with the sort of wonder you had thought unparalleled, until he looked at you.

Or in the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled – always.

It never was a matter that the face had changed, that the eyes were new, and the slope of his jaw would bend into each new shape. The Doctor, you had come to find, was familiar, the extraordinary bottled into skin and bones with two hearts.

River Song was next, with a curious expression you have yet to unravel. She would take the Doctor’s hand, draw his eyes into her own, her voice low when she spoke. She would tell him how he was playing with fire, how – for once – he was the one who was about to get burned.

“She’s a flight risk,” she would say. She would mourn.

And the Doctor would shake his head, because River had seen, same as him, how cemented you were by his side. He would tell of her of the obstacles you had overcome, of the fears you had faced within each other, of the fate defying feats you had both pulled to keep one another in your orbit.

Then Amy – or maybe it was Rory, would call out to you, and their conversation would be lost behind you as you planned for the next adventure.

But the comment would linger, eat away through the goosebumps that would rise when Rivers gaze turned to you.

And it was then that you would wonder about Jack's first comment. It was arrogant, foolish. What did any of them know?

But the Doctors gaze would follow, it would wrap against your throat and claw into your skin.

But as always, you kept your thoughts onto the next adventure.

Today however, you gripped a photograph left on the desk. It was you, grinning into the camera, Martha Jones on one side, the Doctor on the other. You were young, your smile brighter, your eyes wider.

Your hand found itself on your cheek. Your fingers paved over your skin, over the new lines that had formed around your eyes, the creases in your cheeks, the weariness in their colour.

You were older now. So much older.

How many years had gone by? Would you ever be able to count them?

The photo fluttered out of your grasp. There was only one choice.

Flight Risk.

Permanency wasn’t a luxury you afforded yourself. Love was hard, and the knowing was harder. You loved knowing people, loved recognising the things that made them smile, made them laugh.

But the knowing in turn was ruthless.

The Doctor was changing, it was a knowledge that wrung itself in your chest, twisting into your veins and clotting itself into your arteries. If you had been self-aware, you would have seen the change you brought with it, how you drew yourself in, built around you more walls before the Doctor could find a jackhammer to carve them through.

You wondered if loving the Doctor truly was good – if the flying was true. How long until the flight was the Doctor leaving, once he saw too much of you?

Madame Kovarian would give you a lazy grin, the eye not hidden by the eye-patch toying with the way she looked at you and the Doctor. It was slow, languid, revelling in all the time she had to unravel you.

It only took her a moment, a cat like pause before her grin would stretch and twist into something wicked.

“She’s a flight risk,” she would say. She would applaud.

The Doctor would waver – he had never done that before. His voice would shake before falling firm. He wouldn’t mention you, he would talk of her, of the tricks she would pull, of the grip she held on to the universe.

And you would tell yourself that was enough, and you would forget it, hyperfocus on the need to fix this, on the need to win. This is what you did with the Doctor, fall into step, a routine so focused your body and his weren’t their own.

Today however, you fumbled for the vortex manipulator you knew was hidden here. You weren’t sure who the one who hid it was. Maybe it was Jack. Maybe it was River. In the end, it didn’t matter.

Your fingers curled around the worn strap, hidden deep in the console. For a moment you marvelled at the memory of the others, of the people who had left their own mark on the TARDIS.

The thought soon soured.

Because how could you think of a mark in the TARDIS, without thinking of yourself. You could see the evidence of you in this very console room. Your jumped hung over the railing. The book you were currently reading sat by the controls. An old mug, paired with the Doctors, sat by the staircase.

It sprawled out in front of you.

You. You.

You.

You tried to place the change, the moment where the you in your bedroom had spilled into the TARDIS. The moment your space was the Doctors.

You were everywhere.

There you were, your sunscreen stuck by the TARDIS front door. You were in the kitchen, tins of your favourite teas lining the shelf by the kettle. Your footsteps marked the hallways, old shoes you had kicked off before reaching your next stop, the scuff from old boots.

Your breath came in shaky, knotting in your throat.

Flight Risk.

The Doctor would rip the last page out of every book, all to avoid the ending. It was a quirk of his you knew well – you knew all his quirks well.

And although you knew it, you didn’t understand it.

Leaving was an inevitability for you and him. An end for all endings, even this. There was no permanency here. No proof that things would last, that he would stay. That you would stay.

There couldn’t be. Time was fickle, time was fleeting, and it was flying. Just like you were flying – you were sure of it.

Falling rather felt like flying. Until the fall was less flying, and more bone crashing into cement.

You couldn’t see the Doctor before you left, you had half the heart that he did, and that wasn’t accounting for the physical accuracy of the statement.

It was a rash decision, the logical part of you, the part screaming for you to slow down, knew it was rash. But wasn’t rash what you were known for?

Rash was jumping into a time machine with a man you just met. Rash was dancing with the stars, chasing time figures in the night. Rash was the running, all the running.

So, this time it was you. It wasn’t River, Jack, it wasn’t even the Doctor. It was simply you.

You scrawled a note, leaving it against the final lever on the console, the one the Doctor would throw before his next adventure. Alone.

I’m a flight risk, you had said.

You were gone.

If you had stayed, you would have seen it. You would have seen the way the Doctor stood – silent, alone – the note gripped in the palm of his hand.

The Doctor shattered.

His body splayed the TARDIS floor like ceramic before the mosaic, hauntingly tragic, ripped into the seam of the canvas.

By his side lay the ring, the reason he had left the TARDIS at all. It clattered against the railing; louder than the question he could now never ask you.

And it was the Doctor who now knew, who had learned. That the flying, that the falling? Was bone crushingly broken.

A/N^2: I really loved playing with prose while writing this, seriously, it was so fun. Thank you so much for reading! For the regulars, I've got a lot of unfinished wips that should I get the motivation are almost done, so hopefully I'll get to posting again more regularly!

EDIT: I'm writing a happy ending sequel! Lemme know if you'd like to be tagged when it comes out!

#the doctor x reader #eleventh doctor imagine #11th doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #11th doctor #tenth doctor imagine #10th doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor #ninth doctor imagine #9th doctor x reader #ninth doctor x reader #9th doctor

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