I'm just a girl (25), standing in front of a [fictional character of any gender], asking them to love [insert reader here]. Mostly Doctor Who and Wandavision. See pinned post for masterlists and tags. Old deviantart account (been a sec): Kissthe Rain272 AO3: kisstherainwriting
Updated Masterlist(s), my tag system, and general Hey There to anyone new or looking to filter through my blog (Hey there 💜).
Update: Temporarily closed for requests, babes
Update Update: I will explain in further detail sometime soon, hopefully, when I’m able, but tldr: ya girl hit her head again, have been on hiatus while healing, thank you for your kind messages ❤️
General Masterlist (multifandom)
Doctor Who Masterlist
WIP Wednesday Masterlist (Doctor Who drabbles)
Essentially these are prompts for drabble length fics that I take throughout the week, and I cheerfully pick a few that feel fun and write them live on Wednesday nights (sound exciting? it is 10% less exciting than you’re thinking). I am closed to all other requests, unless I’ve specified otherwise.
Rules for Requests (these still apply to WIP Wed!)
Tags I use: #not a fic (if you’re only here for fic, this is the one to filter out, babes), #wip wednesday, #kisstherainreading (fic reblogs)
Note for any new followers who found me through a writing advice post: I’m so glad something resonated with you!! But heads-up that this is unabashedly a DW fanfic blog that sometimes gives writing tips when asked, and that writing advice is not at all my primary content.
Disclaimer: while everything is rated T or below, all readers are written as and intended to be 18+, minors DNI
Warnings: None atm, eventually future language and suggestive content (wink). Reader is roped into f/m plots in future parts due to some messy Wanda matchmaking, but there won’t be any actual f/m reader content, so should be fun for everyone
Summary: Agatha comes face to face with an Avenger, but not the one she expects. And the reveal’s even more delicious when she realizes one of Earth’s mightiest heroes has been cast as Vision’s unlucky-in-love secretary.
“As I was saying, dear, the Handy-Dandy Kitchen Helper peels, spices, cuts, rices, skins, and dices, all at the lowest prices!” Agatha had to shout over the gadget spinning out of control on Wanda’s kitchen table. She kept up that ten watt grin as the Handy-Dandy Kitchen Helper mangled a potato. “Now if I could just get it to flip Ralph over when he snores!”
Another day, another desaturated shenanigan. The Handy-Dandy kitchen thing had seemed a bit bottom of the barrel in terms of clever ideas, but Wanda Maximoff responded well to not-so-subtle homage, and Agatha was beginning to run out of gags. It felt like weeks, but the passage of time wasn’t right, wasn’t consistent. When she went down to her basement, everything would readjust, like pupils dilating at a sudden light. And then she could tell that only a day, tops, had passed since she’d first entered Wanda’s spell.
It was all very impressive, the way that time and space had warped around that tiny finger. She just needed to know how, and she wasn’t above ripping off Lucille Ball to do it. Every time Wanda had to cast a spell and prevent a bite of chaos, every time that chipper veneer was chipped at, Agatha came a little closer to understanding the breadth and width of what was going on in Westview.
And so when a potato peel hit Wanda on the face, Agatha did not cackle, she didn’t snort, she just took a slim notebook from her purse and tapped a fountain pen against her tongue.
“I just have to sell ten of these, and I’ll be entered into a drawing for a nearly-new convertible. Can I put you down for three?”
The doorbell rang.
Wanda looked relieved. “Sorry, Agnes,” she said. Peeling the potato from her cheek, she stood to retreat to the living room. “Would you excuse me for a moment?”
“Of course, hon!” With a rattle, Agatha switched off the Handy-Dandy Kitchen Helper. She called after Wanda, “Don’t forget to ask them if they could use America’s fastest-selling kitchen utensil!”
When the kitchen door swung shut, Agatha quickly followed, holding up a glass to the door and pressing her ear to it. She frowned; she didn’t remember picking up the cup, much less where it had come from. Maybe the nosy neighbor routine was getting too instinctive.
She heard the door open and Wanda’s surprised: “Oh, Y/N! How are you?”
The applause of the invisible audience echoed into the kitchen.
Agatha adjusted the glass. It began to shimmer violet as she did her best to amplify the volume.
“Perfectly miserable, Wanda; the world is absolutely coming to an end, nothing has meaning anymore, and there’s no point in going on.” A voice rang out—a new voice—in one big dramatic sigh. A sympathetic ‘Aw!’ rose up over the audience’s laughter. “Also Vision forgot some paperwork.“
“Well, you know my husband,” Wanda replied, in the lull between laughs. “He’d forget his head if it weren’t screwed on right.”
The new voice said something Agatha couldn’t quite hear. She tutted. Then she straightened her dress, fixed her grin, pushed through the kitchen door—
And found herself face to face with an Avenger.
But not the one she’d been expecting.
When did you get here?
Your name was on the tip of her tongue… Y/N something. One of the, ah, second-string ones. Middle of the roster. But you were cute—the approachable kind that was good for PR; she’d seen you plastered up on posters next to the A-listers. No magic in you, nothing like that. Maybe you were one of the radioactive bug ones. Or maybe you’d tripped into a vat of toxic waste. She vaguely remembered a newsbite of you… flipping a car? Turning invisible? Shooting sparks out of your ears? Something anyway, something Super™ and too far afield for her to have cared very much at the time.
And here you were, a sweet wool skirt swishing around your calves, a big sepia pout puckering your lips. Agatha barely suppressed a snort.
Warnings: None atm, eventually future language and suggestive content (wink). Reader is roped into f/m plots in future parts due to some messy Wanda matchmaking, but there won’t be any actual f/m reader content, so should be fun for everyone
Summary: Agatha comes face to face with an Avenger, but not the one she expects. And the reveal’s even more delicious when she realizes one of Earth’s mightiest heroes has been cast as Vision’s unlucky-in-love secretary.
“As I was saying, dear, the Handy-Dandy Kitchen Helper peels, spices, cuts, rices, skins, and dices, all at the lowest prices!” Agatha had to shout over the gadget spinning out of control on Wanda’s kitchen table. She kept up that ten watt grin as the Handy-Dandy Kitchen Helper mangled a potato. “Now if I could just get it to flip Ralph over when he snores!”
Another day, another desaturated shenanigan. The Handy-Dandy kitchen thing had seemed a bit bottom of the barrel in terms of clever ideas, but Wanda Maximoff responded well to not-so-subtle homage, and Agatha was beginning to run out of gags. It felt like weeks, but the passage of time wasn’t right, wasn’t consistent. When she went down to her basement, everything would readjust, like pupils dilating at a sudden light. And then she could tell that only a day, tops, had passed since she’d first entered Wanda’s spell.
It was all very impressive, the way that time and space had warped around that tiny finger. She just needed to know how, and she wasn’t above ripping off Lucille Ball to do it. Every time Wanda had to cast a spell and prevent a bite of chaos, every time that chipper veneer was chipped at, Agatha came a little closer to understanding the breadth and width of what was going on in Westview.
And so when a potato peel hit Wanda on the face, Agatha did not cackle, she didn’t snort, she just took a slim notebook from her purse and tapped a fountain pen against her tongue.
“I just have to sell ten of these, and I’ll be entered into a drawing for a nearly-new convertible. Can I put you down for three?”
The doorbell rang.
Wanda looked relieved. “Sorry, Agnes,” she said. Peeling the potato from her cheek, she stood to retreat to the living room. “Would you excuse me for a moment?”
“Of course, hon!” With a rattle, Agatha switched off the Handy-Dandy Kitchen Helper. She called after Wanda, “Don’t forget to ask them if they could use America’s fastest-selling kitchen utensil!”
When the kitchen door swung shut, Agatha quickly followed, holding up a glass to the door and pressing her ear to it. She frowned; she didn’t remember picking up the cup, much less where it had come from. Maybe the nosy neighbor routine was getting too instinctive.
She heard the door open and Wanda’s surprised: “Oh, Y/N! How are you?”
The applause of the invisible audience echoed into the kitchen.
Agatha adjusted the glass. It began to shimmer violet as she did her best to amplify the volume.
“Perfectly miserable, Wanda; the world is absolutely coming to an end, nothing has meaning anymore, and there’s no point in going on.” A voice rang out—a new voice—in one big dramatic sigh. A sympathetic ‘Aw!' rose up over the audience’s laughter. “Also Vision forgot some paperwork."
“Well, you know my husband,” Wanda replied, in the lull between laughs. “He’d forget his head if it weren’t screwed on right.”
The new voice said something Agatha couldn’t quite hear. She tutted. Then she straightened her dress, fixed her grin, pushed through the kitchen door—
And found herself face to face with an Avenger.
But not the one she’d been expecting.
When did you get here?
Your name was on the tip of her tongue… Y/N something. One of the, ah, second-string ones. Middle of the roster. But you were cute—the approachable kind that was good for PR; she’d seen you plastered up on posters next to the A-listers. No magic in you, nothing like that. Maybe you were one of the radioactive bug ones. Or maybe you’d tripped into a vat of toxic waste. She vaguely remembered a newsbite of you… flipping a car? Turning invisible? Shooting sparks out of your ears? Something anyway, something Super™ and too far afield for her to have cared very much at the time.
And here you were, a sweet wool skirt swishing around your calves, a big sepia pout puckering your lips. Agatha barely suppressed a snort.
“Oh, Agnes, this is Y/N. She just started as a secretary at Vision’s work.”
Your eyes flickered to Agatha. She had no idea what color they were, but they were wide, embarrassed. “Hi, nice to meet you.” You moved to shake her hand, then realized yours were full with a bashful smile. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt; I'm just returning Vision’s briefcase.”
“Always nice to meet a working girl!” Agatha trilled, before adding in a stage-whisper. “I always say my husband Ralph’s a full-time job—the pay’s only so-so and the hours are long, but hey! At least I get weekends off.”
You laughed along with an audience you wouldn’t—or couldn’t—hear, but it was wry. “I’m starting to feel like dating’s a whole part-time job! I just got away from the worst blind date of my life, which makes this the third worst blind date of my life this week.” You sighed again, and said to Wanda, “They don’t make them like you and Vision anymore.”
Wanda allowed herself an indulgent smile. “No, they certainly do not. My husband's one of a kind."
Agatha clocked your wistful grin, the frazzled pencil tucked behind your ear, the sensible Oxfords and lace-trimmed bobby socks that seemed just a little too young for you. Oh, this was rich. Wanda had cast you as the unlucky-in-love coworker. All trope and no bite.
If you ever woke up, Wanda’d have some ‘splainin to do.
Agatha blew a dismissive raspberry. "Don't worry about it, doll. You're still young! With that smile, you’re bound to find that special someone sooner or later. And excavating that cute figure of yours from that cardigan probably wouldn't hurt!”
For emphasis, she tugged at the sweater’s hemline. Fumbling the briefcase, you were pulled toward her until it was the only thing separating the pair of you, the slim case pressed against your chest. Agatha felt a genuine smile cut through Agnes’s: you looked a little embarrassed and... all-too-endearing. She looped her finger through the knit in one final tug, and you swallowed. Earth’s mightiest heroes indeed. “A beau would have to cut their way in!”
Footsteps on the stairs, then the twinkling sound of Vision’s transformation effect. When he reached the bottom banister, he greeted you both with a wave, hair and all. "Hello, ladies. Am I interrupting something?"
"Oh, just the end of all meaning," Wanda quipped. “And the first Woolworth’s exhumation.”
Vision smiled. "Is that all?"
"You forgot the Booker account, sir," you said, finally stepping back from Agatha, who shot you a final wink for the hell of it. There was something delicious about taunting you, getting a powered-down Super Pal flustered. You passed Vision the briefcase, then the exposition came, as cheerful and matter-of-fact as it always was: "You've got that big meeting tomorrow.”
"Ah, right, the Booker account!" Vision repeated. He patted the side of the briefcase, haltingly. "Which is…?"
You scoffed. "Only Computational Services’ biggest client, Vision!"
"Right, right, of course." He nodded. A pause. "Our biggest client for…?"
"For computational data analytics, silly!"
Vision gave you a tight smile, his brow still furrowed. "Right. Silly me."
Wanda shifted in her kitten heels. Her lips were pursed as she watched her husband. For a moment, Agatha wondered whether or not she should push this one. It was such a tight rope to walk, such a thin line between pushing Wanda and collapsing the entire spell. And Agatha wasn’t ready for that, not quite.
But before she could say anything, choose to diffuse the tension or pop it, you winced beside her. Blinking rapidly, you blurted out, “Say, Wanda? Can I ask you for a favor?”
Wanda relaxed. “Well, sure, dear. What can I help you with?” She grinned. “Unless it’s the world ending—I’m afraid that’s out of my pay grade.”
Agatha internalized her grimace. Honestly. To be that powerful, and to demure for an invisible camera.
You wrung your hands—actually wrung them. Sheesh. “My busy-body mother set me up on another date this weekend. We’re going to the drive-in, and I’m positively dreading it. Oh, Wanda, he’s a total bore!”
Instead of pointing out that Westview didn’t have a drive-in movie theater, because she’s sure one just conveniently sprung into existence, Agatha flashed you a sympathetic look. “That’s too bad, hon. If there’s anything I hate more than a bore, it’s a busy-body!” she said, the irony eliciting some unseen chuckles.
Wanda’s brow furrowed, faux-perplexed. “This might be obvious, dear, but can’t you just cancel?”
“And have my mother find out that I did? I’d never hear the end of it!” You fidgeted with your sleeves. “… Would you and Vision double with us? I’d feel so much better if I didn’t have to go it alone.” You shot Vision a nervous, apologetic grin. “If that’s not inappropriate, sir!”
Vision waved you off. “Don’t you worry about that,” he assured you. He glanced at Wanda, looking both amused and sympathetic. “What d’you say, sweetheart? Want to go steady?”
“You laugh, but it has been quite a while since we’ve been on a date ourselves, Mister. Not since…” Trailing off, Wanda faltered.
“Since the…” Vision began, but came up short.
“The time we—at the—”
“Yes, at the… hm.”
Wanda shook her head, and her face broke into a too-wide grin. “I guess it must have been so long that we’ve forgotten! That settles it then; we’d love to.”
You beamed. “You two are the greatest! You’re really saving my skin.”
Abruptly, you turned to the brunette and spoke over the audience reaction, completely cutting through any comedic timing. “What about you, Agnes? Do you want to come too?”
Agatha’s eyebrows lifted. “Me, dear?”
Wanda had also startled, her eyes flitting between the two of you.
That… wasn’t right. The premise had been neat as a bow, an easy, timeless cliché. The more experienced couple steers a pair of awkward soon-to-be-lovebirds through their first date. Rough at first, full of concession-stand related hijinks and the couple in the car next door getting too handsy, before the night turns saccharine. Holding hands, a timid kiss. All’s well that end’s well, roll the episode credits.
Whether or not Wanda was consciously doing anything, Agatha still wasn’t sure. But she was certain that Wanda hadn’t scripted this.
“The more the merrier!” you insisted. Agatha studied you more intently. There was a certain sharpness to your eyes, even though your demeanor remained cheerful. “You could bring your, uh, husband,” you added, the words still off-beat. Were you doing this on purpose? Could you be doing this on purpose? There was something almost desperate to it, something on edge.
It wasn’t much, admittedly, just a minor hitch in an otherwise note-for-note plotline. But still.
Interesting.
“Oh, Ralph? He hasn’t been allowed back at the drive-in since he ate so many hotdogs, he hyperinflated the price of weenies.” Agatha said quickly, breaking the silence.
The laugh track returned, but Wanda still looked a little thrown. And any button that unsettled Wanda was exactly the button Agatha wanted to press.
Agatha threw her arm around your shoulder and laughed. “You know what? That sounds swell! We’ll make a party of it. I’ll bring snacks! Who likes malt balls?”
The transition music began to play, and Agatha leaned into the time jump, allowed Wanda’s magic to pull her forward, her arm still draped over your shoulder.
Maybe she had a few more gags in her after all.
Notes: Look, I wasn’t really planning to write for Marvel but they cast Kathryn Hahn as a sexy witch and gave me permission to play with corny sitcom tropes, so Hello Marvel fandom, please accept this humble vintage lesbian content
Please say hi and let me know if you’d like the rest of this series, which would involve: drive-in movie hijinks, the Reader getting bleep censored for regaining the ability to cuss, free-will angst, a struggle against family friendly content, me overusing the meta elements, Fietro bullshit, and Agatha lifting the Reader onto countertops 💜
I really didn’t mean to ghost y’all for, uh, 2+ months, that hiatus was not planned. I just sort of crashed and burned. It was pretty rough. And I just needed to take a step back from basically everything and just have a good solid meltdown. And once I regrouped, I decided it would be helpful for me, time management and emotional-energy wise, to stay offline for a bit. And it’s been a mixed bag, tbh. I’ve been doing more art, and I’ve started writing my own book again. I’m getting shit done. And I’ve really, really missed y’all.
I’m doing a lot better, and I’ve been poking around with fic writing again, but this blog won’t reach the sheer amount of content being spat out per week that I was managing at the beginning of the pandemic, when I was hyperfixated and nostalgic and bored and desperate for some semblance of structure. And honestly, slowing down will be a good, normal, healthy thing (like this is fic, and in retrospect I had zero chill about it). Also, heads up, I am (mostly because Wandavision’s Agatha Harkness exists and I grew up in a vintage sitcom household, so Marvel did the One Thing that could bring me back into the fold) planning on branching out from Doctor Who and (occasionally) adding a few more fandoms to the mix
TLDR: I’m back, but like, we’re reaching the first year anniversary of this blog (time isn’t REAL), and being back means dialing it down some and occasionally shaking things up. TBD on WIP Weds, that might be a summer thing only or an every few weeks thing; I’m still figuring out what taking requests will be like, and I’ve decided not to put myself on any sort of schedule right now. So excited to catch up with y’all, sorry sorry sorry to everyone I’ve left on read, and to any new readers, hi!!
And to the people who followed me during the hiatus for that one writing tips post and are now awkwardly realizing this is a shameless fic blog: godspeed 💜
Thank you for the tag, @startrekkingaroundasgard! 💖 I didn’t technically get to this before the end of 2020, but it was fun to look back on what I’ve written, pick my faves, and let myself feel a bit proud :)
RULES: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works <3
1. A Not-So-Modest Proposal (Missy x Reader x 13th Doctor) - Reformed-Lite Missy just might be my favorite character to write, and I loved writing her interacting with Thirteen. And I think in the end I managed a decent balance of goofy shenanigans and genuine, difficult-to-navigate feelings? Anyway, this is the story I had the most fun writing this year, hands down. And I go back and reread comments on NSMP when I'm feeling less than stellar
2. Lights Out (10th Doctor x Reader) - Even though I've been on hiatus for a ridiculously long time on the final part (😬), I still really love this series. I like that it’s a little spooky. And I basically never do original characters in fic, but I had so much fun cobbling together the tour group. And I'm pretty proud of the pacing/episode vibes, and I liked the setting I developed. Love a macabre tourist trap. Aaaand one day I'll finish it :)
3. Why Can't I Be You? (Missy x Reader) - I had to include one of the Trial!Companion Reader/Missy pretending to be the Doctor on a test mission fics. Both were SO much fun to write. This beat out Being Good™ for me because of the prop comedy, tbh. I just really like the idea of Missy lugging around her own statue's decapitated head. Also: hair pulling
4. Matchmaker, Matchmaker (Donna Noble x Reader) - I don't even think my writing in this one is particularly stellar, but 1) I will just keep flinging Donna fics into the doctor who x reader tag with wild abandon; 2) I love writing Donna + Doctor bickering; and 3) It really did feel kind of full-circle for me. The very first dw fics that I wrote ages ago on my old account were matchmaker Donna fics with Ten. If you’d told then-closeted me I’d eventually write Donna x reader for people who genuinely wanted to read it, I would’ve been really excited (and maybe a little pleasantly confused)
5. Glow Up (13th Doctor x Reader) - The first Thirteenth Doctor fic that I ever wrote, technically. Like, it's just another 12 regenerates into 13 fic, but I really like the softness of the ending. I think it's one of my favorite kiss scenes that I've written, and that's why I've decided to include it :)
And, like, cheating a little to include a sort-of-sixth item, but it’s not my usual fare and I’m genuinely proud of it: I actually really liked how the Reader Companion Theme (13th Doctor x Reader) that I composed turned out
Tagging: @penguinwithitsarseonfire , @fabulouspotatosister, @isis-astarte-diana, @fawnxng, @finding-a-whim and anyone who thinks it’d be fun/wants to let their followers know what they’re proud of from 2020/seriously, with exams I just rarely get to go picking through the tags these days, and I’d love to have a bunch of recommendations and people to follow (so please tag me) :)
Pairing: you can read this as Twelve x Reader, Missy x Reader, or Bill x Reader. Truly the ambiguous wildcard gift that keeps on giving (hopefully)
Anonymous said:
Can I interest you in a christmas prompt for WIP-Wednesday? Twelve’s Super Packed Tardis Fun House celebrating together; possibly including: a Bill/Reader pairing, Missy singing (reworded) christmas carols to annoy the Doctor, Nardole organising cookies, eggnog and gløgg, the Doctor denying to be behind the presents everyone got or the Tardis trying to spread christmas cheer by randomly distributing decorations like mistletoes, christmas crackers and antlers🎄
Oh, I am very interested, babe 🎁
“Jingle bells, the Doctor smells, the bald bloke laid an egg!” Missy’s croon ricocheted around the TARDIS console room. It was nearly unrecognizable, with heavy garland and tinsel woven around its metal arches and baubles floating on the ceiling. You couldn’t tell if the decorations were real or holographic—they looked real, and they smelled real, filling the TARDIS with a bright hit of pine. But they certainly did little to dampen Missy’s caroling sesh for one. “The Chameleon circuit went beserk and Missy got away!”
“That is not funny,” Nardole tutted, watching her with a scowl from the console. He adjusted his elf’s hat sternly and added, “Have you told her she’s not funny, sir?”
“Tell her yourself,” the Doctor replied. He was tinkering with something on the TARDIS console. When you’d last tried to look over his shoulder, he’d shielded it with his jacket and shooed you away. “I’m busy.”
“Busy?” Nardole repeated. “With what?”
“Stuff,” the Doctor said, briskly. A tiny mushroom cloud of glitter exploded from whatever he was holding. He swatted it down. "Very important stuff.”
The bell on the hat jingled as Nardole cocked his head and crossed his arms. “Don’t you have a party to host?”
“It’s my party, I’ll do stuff if I want to.”
“Hmph.”
“This is a bit weird,“ Bill said to you in a cheerful whisper. The pair of you were sitting on the staircase, each of you with an enormous striped mug in hand. Her green corduroy overalls were festive and clashed beautifully with your ugly Christmas sweater. She’d leaned in, close to your ear, as you both watched your very human holiday celebrated by three very non-humans with varying degrees of success.
"Yeah…” You grinned—but the grin became more strained as Missy’s round of ‘Last Christmas, I Gave You My Hearts’ reached a rather gory chorus. “A bit.”
“I feel like I’m in the Star Wars Christmas special.”
You snorted into your mug. Fumes wafted up from the drink, and your nose crinkled. “Does Nardole even know how to make eggnog?“
“I don’t know,” Bill replied. She was holding her mug at arm’s length. "But it smells like pants.”
I do not know why this vaguely has a plot, but I hope you like it, hon 🎄
“Is this—is this an office party?” you asked, after the third person you’d bumped into had nodded deferentially to River Song and greeted her as ‘Doctor.’
River inclined her head toward yet another stuffy-looking academic. Her earrings caught the light and glittered against her cheek. “Departmental Christmas party.”
You looked around the room—stuffy, packed with stern, wrinkled old faces and paisley ties–and tried very hard not to whine. Self-consciously, you tugged at the hem of your dress. You’d been a little proud of how slinky it was earlier, but now— “River, you didn’t tell me this was a work thing.”
She gave you a dimpled smile over her champagne flute. “If I had, you wouldn’t have agreed to come.”
“That’s not true,” you protested. She quirked an eyebrow, and you rolled your eyes. “Okay, that’s maybe a little true. But when you said ‘you, me: holiday party at eight; wear something sexy and be ready to run,’ I really didn’t picture a room full of archeologists.”
River’s fingers laced through yours, her thumb rubbing the top of your hand. She gave you a warm smirk, one that was just a little bit sly. “Come on, love. It’ll be fun, I promise. Things’ll liven up.”
“What, is Dave over there going to get drunk and start a sing-song?”
“That’s Todd, and no. He’s a recovering alcoholic.” When you grimaced, River burst into a low chuckle. “Kidding, sweetheart. I don’t know even him. Must be someone’s spouse.”
“You’re lucky you’re beautiful,” you grumbled. And she was: in a deep gold dress with green embroidery, she looked unreal against the sea of tweed. Her hair was coiled into a loose bun, her lips painted a dark red. You thought there was some tinsel coiled within her curls.
“What if your coworkers don’t like me?” you asked, after taking a long sip of your drink. “You’re kind of throwing me to the wolves.”
“Oh, don’t worry about them. They’re all terrible snobs, very set in their ways. Not an ounce of empathy among them. There’s no real chance of them liking you.”
You watched her pop a canapé in her mouth and gaped at her. “Then why are we here?”
“To stir up a little excitement, sweetheart.” River tapped your chin closed, then pressed it up a little higher. “Look up.”
Mistletoe. In the arch of the doorway, right over your head.
You started to scoff, but River guided your face closer, murmured in your ear: “Merry Christmas, darling.”
And then she was kissing you, champagne still on her tongue. Your face flushed, and a very embarrassed part of you wanted to jerk your head away. These were her colleagues. But her lips were soft and insistent, and no one in the universe could coax out a kiss quite like River Song could, and by the end of it, you had to remind yourself where you were, remind yourself not to weave your fingers through her curls and tug them loose.
When River pulled back, she flashed you a quick grin, then announced—to the room, the whole room at large— “Now, then. You know me, off to do something very clever.” Your eyes narrowed, but before you could question her, she pulled out her sonic screwdriver and added, “You’ll fill in the blanks for these good people, won’t you?”
River then disappeared into the hallway.
Still under the mistletoe, you slowly turned to face the room. A dozen pairs of eyes met yours.
Quickly, a group of them flocked around you. “Where did the Doctor go?” a man asked you. He looked human, with thin lips and pale eyes.
“The Doctor?” Something about his intonation made you pause. “You mean, Doctor Song?”
Wait, had she gotten her doctorate?
“No.” The man frowned. “The Doctor. The great warrior of the Time War.”
Oh.
“Yes,” the woman added. “We were surprised she came; we’ve asked for her assistance several times over. As her companion, can you tell us: how does she plan to stop Barmoran thieves from stealing the Phorox relic?”
“The, um, Phorox relic,” you repeated.
“Yes. Our ancestors excavated that relic over a hundred years ago while exploring Barmora.” The man swirled his drink. “Now the Barmorans and their sympathizers insist that we return the relic to them, with no regard for this museum’s long legacy of academic excellence. We’ve solicited the Doctor’s help time and time again to secure the relic, only to be met with refusals.”
Another man with a reedy voice added. “Some of which were rather rude.”
“Yes, like the one that said we could shove it—”
“The, uh, Doctor’s always got a, uh, plan,” you interrupted. Your grip on the champagne glass tightened. “But her process is deeply, um, personal. Shrouded in mystery. You’ve just got to let her do her thing.”
“There you are, darling.” River’s voice rung out. She was carrying a heavy, ornate box, her dress billowing behind her. “My dear companion, I’m afraid we’re too late; the thieves are already in this museum.”
The room filled with murmurs.
“Now, the safest thing to do,” River said to them, “Would be for my companion and I to hold onto this for you for temporary safe keeping.”
The man stepped forward. “But—"
“Isn’t that right?” River asked you.
You blinked. “Oh, yeah. One hundred percent.”
The woman wrung her hands. “Then godspeed, Doctor! Whatever you must do, don’t let that get into the wrong hands!”
River Song grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
The TARDIS materialized behind her, scattering the drinks table. She’d told you she was ‘borrowing’ it from the Doctor so that you two could go party, but now the sight of it—one corner crunching down the bowl of punch—made you nearly laugh. Solemnly, River stepped onboard with the Phorox relic. You rushed to join her.
When the TARDIS was back in the Time Vortex, River chuckling behind you, you burst out with: “River Song, you lied to me! I can’t believe you; why didn’t you just tell me what you were doing?”
“Couldn’t help myself, love. You know I love to dress up and play pretend.” River grinned, still chuckling. She place the box on the console. “Now, before we head to Barmora and return what’s rightfully theirs, I think it’s incredibly important that you look up.”
Not sure whether you should roll your eyes or laugh, you did. And tucked up on the edge of the TARDIS entry, right where the room opened up and became bigger on the inside:
Mistletoe.
Notes: Just a gay christmas righting archaeological wrongs with River Song because because 💚 Messy, I know, but I hope you like it, hon! Thanks for the prompt
[in a voice that sounds very breathless because I have run all the way here, but I'm obviously trying to sound casual, but I'm not doing a very good job] oh, wow, a one-off Miranda Croft x Reader fic? I want that a normal amount. If you ever did want to write one, and got the time, I would read it with a normal amount of interest. 💕
So everything about this made me smile, and fuck it now I’m writing it
it's the way i genuinely still fangirl when i see you pop up in my notifs that does it for me 😊 hope you have a fun christmas despite everything, rain!! ❤️
Hon 💕 Same to you--I hope that the holidays are still really fun and safe for you and yours :)
