A/N: Inspired by the song Baby I'll Wait by Michael Buble
The Doctor frowned as he and Rose headed back to the TARDIS. When the morning started, he’d every intention of taking his companion to watch Nero fiddle while the city burned. Just an odd bit of history to watch. Okay, so it wasn’t really a fiddle, more of a harp really, but the emperor was surprisingly talented.
The TARDIS however decided they needed to see late 20th century London instead. It wasn’t the first time she’d taken him elsewhere and it wouldn’t be the last, but normally he’d step outside and find the trouble without much effort. He and Rose had been gone all day without one speck of chaos. Odd.
“Well, this was a monumentally disappointing trip,” Rose grumbled beside him.
At the reminder of her presence, the Doctor gave her a small smile. “Nonsense. You got your fish and chips, didn’t you? You’ve been wanting those for days.”
She scrunched her nose then grinned. “True. So where are we off to now?”
“Oh, I don’t…” He started as he opened the door, his voice trailing off as he took in the changes in the TARDIS. His mouth fell open as he stepped fully inside. Rose placed a hand on his back and he stepped to the side.
“Doctor?” she asked in confusion before she too gaped at the changes to her temporary home.
While still recognizably the TARDIS they both knew and loved, it was brighter and much more…steampunky? The Doctor’s thoughts immediately went to you as he took in the décor. It was very much your style. But he shook it away. That was impossible. You were safe and far away from here. Far away from him. Besides the TARDIS reflected him, not his companions, often changing when he regenerated, but it hadn’t this time. Not really. So why now?
“Does it seem happier to you?” Rose whispered.
And indeed, she did. The TARDIS was practically humming in contentment. He placed a hand on the console and felt her vibrate with excitement. And as he tilted his head to listen, he heard it. Deep in her core, the TARDIS was calling your name.
His eyes went wide as he looked around frantically. No, you can’t be here. You can’t. “What did you do?” he demanded.
“I didn’t do anything,” Rose responded, sounding a little insulted.
He didn’t even look at her as he shook his head. “Not you. Her,” he explained, gesturing toward the console.
“She came back for me,” you said as you emerged from the hallway. “She missed me.”
The Doctor closed his eyes as if in pain before swallowing and turning to look at you. Your name was little more than a whisper on his lips as he ran his gaze over you, taking in every detail. Still as beautiful as ever. You looked just the same. In fact, you looked exactly the same. He frowned as he glanced at the screen displaying the date. That wasn’t possible.
“I left you in—”
“1973. Yes, I recall. Vividly.”
“That was twenty-five years ago.”
You hummed in agreement before looking past him to his companion and introducing yourself.
“Rose Tyler,” she responded, her confused gaze darting between you and the Doctor. “What’s going on, Doctor?”
“Not now, Rose.” He didn’t want to be short with her, but you were more important just now. On so many levels. “How?” he asked you. How were you here? How do you look exactly the same? How could you forgive him? How could he possibly live without you again, now that you’re back?
You gestured to the console with some amusement. “She better explain it. I’ll make a mess of it.”
He studied you for a moment before sliding on his glasses as he looked over the information being flashed on screen. The more he read, the wider his eyes grew as his mouth dropped open once more. “What!?”
He glanced between you and the screen and back again. “What?” He dropped into a seat and put his head in his hands.
You continued to watch him in silence giving him the time to process what he’d just discovered. When Rose started to speak up again, you held up a hand to stop her. She sat in another chair with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest.
Finally, your Doctor looked at you with pure sorrow in his eyes. “This shouldn’t be possible. I am so sorry.”
You tilted your head. “Why?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “You had no choice. She should have given you a choice.”
“Who says she didn’t?”
His sorrow shifted to surprise in a beat.
You smiled and leaned against the railing behind you. “If you’re going to apologize, try apologizing for dumping me off on Earth and never coming back. I thought you were dead, Doctor. You promised you’d never leave me, you know.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“Wait,” Rose spoke up as she stood. “You travelled with him and he left you?”
He groaned. “It’s not what it sounds like, alright?”
“Well, what’s it like then?” the blonde demanded. When he didn’t answer she stomped a foot. “Are you just going to abandon me when you’ve had enough of me too? Answer me.”
“She almost died, Rose,” he finally yelled. “She did. She died and the TARDIS brought her back. Healed her. I should have looked into it more closely, but I was just so relieved she was there. That I didn’t have to live in a universe without her in it. I left her because I thought it better she live a long life without me than a short one with me. I couldn’t face losing her again.” His voice broke at the end but he didn’t look at you, keeping his attention on his current companion instead.
“Oh.” The word was quiet and all the fight left Rose with it. She slumped back in her seat looking rather deflated as she looked between the two of you.
You stepped forward and ran your fingers through his hair. His eyes closed at the feel of your touch. Gods, he’d missed you. “She spoke to me when she fixed me. Told me she could give me long enough to say goodbye or she could give me forever. It was an easy choice. How could I pass up an eternity with you?”
He grabbed your hand in his and pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist. “I’m so sorry I left you. I shouldn’t have left you.”
You continued to play with his hair with your other hand. “No, you shouldn’t have. But I knew you were going to.”
He glanced up in surprise.
“She told me. She also told me she’d come back for me when you were ready.” You cupped a hand along the side of his face and held his gaze. “She told me what you had to do. That you left me because you thought you’d die, too. I’m glad you haven’t been alone.” With that you glanced at Rose and gestured at her to give a moment. She looked uncertain but left quietly to stand outside the TARDIS.
A broken sound left his lips as soon as the door shut and he pulled you to sit on his lap. He buried his head in your neck as he sobbed. You wrapped your arms around him and held him, letting him grieve. You knew it was unlikely he had allowed himself to do so before now. He probably thought he didn’t deserve to. No one was harder on the Doctor than the Doctor himself.
You weren’t certain how much time had passed before he pulled back to look at you with wonder in his eyes. You slid off his tear-stained glasses and tossed them on the console before wiping the moisture from his cheeks. “I’m sorry you were alone.”
“I’m sorry you were,” you said back to him. “I would have held your hand while your world ended.”
He nodded and cleared his throat. “I know you would have, but I would have hesitated. I had one chance. I had to take it.”
You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “That’s why I love you, Theta. You’re a good man. You destroyed your whole life to save the universe.”
“And I was afraid I would destroy the universe to save yours. We could have just kept running through time. I considered it. That’s why I left. I’m sorry you had to wait so long for me to come back to you.”
“Baby, I’d wait for you forever and day.” And then you kissed him again.
✰ Word Count: 17.3k
✰ Summary: Rose Tyler has a friend. This friend is bitter about Rose’s sudden departure. The Doctor makes it up to her. Theres something about her that fascinated him. Rose is jelly.
✰ Warnings: 10th Doctor, Set just after Age of Steal, After Mickey stays in the other dimension, The Doctor x Rose doesn’t exist, The Doctor has a crush, Jackie Tyler(need I say more), Jackie can cook(?) but she can’t make tea, the Doctor is a bit OOC, the Tardis says PULL TO OPEN
✰ Rating: PG-13
⋆.˚✮ Notes: HOTTAKE Rose should’ve had more consequences for how she treated Micky, a wonderful and faithful man, how she took him for granted and walked all over him. As much as I loved her, the fact that she ran off and flirted with other guys(The Doctor, Jack, and that dude from satellite 9- I forget his name) always rubbed me the wrong way. It’s giving ‘you didn’t cheat, but you’re still a trader’ vibes. I always thought she was a tad selfish and undeserving. So this is going to run with that. If you don't like it or agree, that's why they call it a hottake, so whomp whomp.
The bag was cutting into her fingers by the time she reached the corner of the street, thin plastic stretched to its limit by tins, bread, and a bottle of milk she’d almost forgotten she needed. It was late afternoon, London-grey even when the sky insisted it was technically still daylight. The kind of hour where buses groaned louder, people walked faster, and the city felt like it was politely pushing you out of the way.
She shifted the bag to her other hand and slowed, boots scuffing against the pavement as she approached her building.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, a dull vibration of something that wasn’t quite important enough to announce itself properly. Hope leapt anyway, sharp and embarrassing. She stopped walking, dug the phone out with cold fingers.
Nothing important, just a message from her boss asking if she could pick up a shift tomorrow. She checked the messages from who she’d hoped had texted her just now. Just her own message staring back at her from three days ago.
You okay? Haven’t heard from you. Just checking in.
No reply. No read receipt. Just silence.
Mickey Smith had never been a great texter, but this was different. It was like he fell of the face of the earth, or just decided she wasnt worth his time any more.
She locked the screen and exhaled slowly through her nose, jaw tightening as she started walking again. She told herself not to take it personally. She told herself a lot of things these days. Most of them half-truths she repeated like montras until they almost sounded convincing.
The lift in her building was still broken, a handwritten sign taped to the door that had been there long enough to feel like part of the décor. She took the stairs, counting steps without meaning to, the way she did when her thoughts got too loud.
It hadn’t always been like this.
There was a time, not even that long ago, when she’d dreaded going home because she knew she’d be talked into staying out. Late-night chips, laughing so hard her ribs hurt, leaning against shop counters long after closing time while Rose complained about customers and Mickey made stupid jokes just to get her to smile again.
Three peas in a pod. That was how it had felt.
She and Rose had met at the shop, both broke, both bored, both pretending the place was temporary. They’d bonded over shared shifts and mutual disdain for the same regulars, over tea breaks that turned into confessions. Rose was bright and loud and fearless in a way she’d never quite managed to be, and somehow that made her feel braver just standing nearby.
Mickey had been there too. The awkward, earnest, endlessly loyal man she came to adore as a dear friend. He’d slipped into her life sideways, like a brother she hadn’t known she was missing. When Rose was late, it was Mickey she talked to. When Rose disappeared into herself, it was Mickey who noticed first.
And then the shop burned down.
Everyone joked about it later, called it bad luck or fate or just another thing London swallowed whole. But it had been the beginning of the end, really. Rose had changed after that, restless in a way that went beyond boredom. Always looking past the present, past them.
Then suddanly, Rose had left.
Not dramatically. Not even properly explained. Just gone. Traveling, her mum said after she’d returned like nothing happened. With a friend. A man no one seemed able to describe clearly.
At first there were postcards. Quick calls. Breathless stories that never quite made sense. Then there were gaps. Silences that stretched until it felt rude to ask questions about them. She’d stopped expecting replies from Rose eventually. It hurt less that way.
Mickey had stayed.
They’d grown closer in the quiet aftermath, two people orbiting the same absence. They talked about everything except Rose, until they didn’t have to avoid her name anymore. He’d been there when the loneliness hit hardest, when the flat felt too quiet and the future felt too empty.
He was family.
Which was why it had felt wrong to find out from JackieTyler of all people that they’d broken up.
“Oh, love,” Jackiehad said, leaning in the doorway with her mug of tea and that look that meant gossip wrapped in concern. “Didn’t Rose tell you? Mickey moved out weeks ago. Packed up and left. Don’t know where he’s gone.”
Weeks.
The word had echoed in her head long after she’d climbed the stairs to her flat, groceries forgotten in her hand, phone clutched tight in her other. She reached her door now and fumbled for her keys and groceries rustling softly. The hallway smelled faintly of cleaning solution and something burnt from downstairs.
Inside, she set the bag down and leaned against the door, eyes closed. She hadn’t lost just one friend. She’d lost all of them, one by one, and somehow she’d been the last to notice.
She unpacked the groceries slowly, more out of habit than necessity. Bread on the counter. Milk in the fridge. Tins lined up with unnecessary precision, as though order might settle something restless inside her.
Rose crept back into her thoughts whether she wanted her to or not. How selfish she’d been.
Leaving without telling anyone properly, without reassurance. Disappearing for months at a time and letting people worry, especially her mum. Jackie had tried to play it off, all smiles and tea offers, but the strain had been there beneath it. The way she lingered on Rose’s name, the way her eyes searched faces for scraps of news.
Then Rose had come back.
Not even properly back, just around. Sweeping in with a man no one had ever met, sitting at her mum’s table for tea like nothing had changed, like she hadn’t vanished from everyone’s lives. And then she’d left again. No knock on her door. No text. No, I’m back, come see me.
She’d had to hear about it from Jackie. Again.
“Oh, Rose came round last week, darlin’,” Jackie had said, casual as anything. “She’s traveling with a friend now.”
A friend.
Rose had left her to pick up the pieces. Left her to sit with Mickey while he spiraled, while he vented and ranted and tried to make sense of something that was slowly hollowing him out. She’d listened as he admitted, voice tight and wounded, that it felt like Rose was slipping away. That she only reached out when it suited her. That he felt like a backup plan she couldn’t quite let go of.
“I feel like I’m just. . . there,” he’d said once, staring at the floor. “Like she doesn’t want me, but she doesn’t want to lose me either.”
It had broken her heart, because she’d felt it too. How selfish her best friend had turned out to be.
She shut the fridge door a little harder than necessary and leaned against the counter, arms folded tight across her chest. Anger came easily, easier than admitting how much she missed her.
Because beneath the resentment and the bitterness the simple fact that she missed Rose terribly. She missed her laugh, her energy, the way she filled a room without trying. Missed the certainty of being someone’s person. Even now, after everything, a single message would have been enough.
Thinking of you.
Or-
Sorry I disappeared.
Or even-
I haven’t forgotten you.
Just one text would’ve made her feel like she still mattered. Like she wasn’t so easily left behind. Like she hadn’t been erased from a life that once felt inseparable from her own.
She told herself not to think about Rose anymore. There was no point. Wherever Rose was she was likely having far too much fun to spare a thought for the people she’d left behind. Dwelling on it would only twist the knife deeper, and she was tired of crying over ghosts.
So she tied up the trash bag, looped the plastic tight, and grabbed her keys.
The balcany outside her flat was quiet, just the familiar dull hum of the building settling, kids playing before it got two dark, and the traffic in the distance. It was noisy, but it was quiet to her. She stepped out, pulled the door shut behind her, and reached back to lock it before heading for the stairs.
“Oi!” The voice came from behind her.
Impossible.
Her hand froze on the key. Slowly, like the world might shatter if she moved too fast, she turned.
Rose Tyler was standing there, barely a few feet away, grinning at her like she hadn’t vanished for months. Like she hadn’t walked straight out of her life and expected the door to still be open when she wandered back.
“Hey!” Rose said cheerfully, stepping closer. “Blimey, it’s been ages. How’ve you been?”
The trash bag slipped slightly in her grip.She couldn’t speak.
Her mind refused to catch up with what her eyes were seeing, Rose in her hoodie and jacket, hair a little wilder than she remembered, cheeks flushed with life. Not a story relayed secondhand by her mum.
Rose tilted her head, smile faltering just a fraction. “You alright? You look like you’ve seen-”
Someone cleared their throat behind her.
Only then did she notice the man standing just over Rose’s shoulder.
Tall, thin, dressed in a suit that looked like it had seen better days but was worn with an odd sort of confidence. He offered a polite smile, warm and curious all at once, and lifted his hand in a small, almost shy wave.
“Hello,” he said.
She barely registered it.
She would have, under different circumstances, been acutely aware of how attractive he was. The kind of handsome that snuck up on you rather than demanded attention. But right now, he was nothing more than a blur at the edges of her vision.
Because Rose was here, standing in her hallway, asking how she’d been, as if nothing had happened at all.
The urge to ignore Rose entirely, to give her a taste of her own disappearance, burned hot and sharp in her chest. She scoffed softly, the sound bitter even to her own ears, and turned back to her door instead. The key slid into the lock with a decisive click.
She didn’t look at Rose again.
She started down the hall with the trash bag swinging lightly at her side, footsteps brisk, purposeful. Five feet. That was all she gave herself. Five feet before Mickey’s face popped in her mind.
Mickey, sitting on the edge of her sofa, shoulders slumped. Mickey, staring at his phone like it might explain why the person he loved kept slipping further out of reach. Mickey, hurt and confused and quietly breaking until one day he’d just gone.
She stopped.
Her shoulders sagged as she exhaled, long and slow, like she was surrendering to something she didn’t actually want to face. Then she turned back.
Rose Tyler had gone pale. The bright, easy grin was gone, replaced by something raw and startled, eyes shining like she’d been slapped without warning. She looked heartbroken, as if it had never crossed her mind that this reunion might not be joyful.
Behind her, the man in the suit had lost his smile too. He shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck with a wince that suggested he’d at least anticipated fallout. Like he’d known this wasn’t going to be neat, even if Rose hadn’t.
Rose swallowed. “I-”
“When,” she interrupted, voice tight but steady, “was the last time you saw Mickey?”
Rose blinked, clearly thrown by the sudden shift. “Mickey?” she echoed, like the name itself had surprised her.
“Yes, Mickey,” she snapped, grip tightening around the rubbish bag. “My friend. Your boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend apparently. The one who vanished.”
Rose’s mouth opened, then closed again. Her brows knitted together, guilt creeping unmistakably into her expression. “I- I don’t know exactly. It’s been a bit.” It was a lie and she could tell, she’d known Rose for a long time after all.
“A bit,” she repeated flatly.
Rose flinched.
“Do you know where he went?” she pressed. “Did he tell you? Did he tell anyone? Because he stopped answering his phone weeks ago, Rose. He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t explain. He just disappeared.”
Silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable. Rose looked away first.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen like that,” she said quietly. “Things just got complicated.”
“Funny,” she replied, bitterness seeping through despite herself. “That’s exactly how he described it too.”
The Doctor shifted again, eyes flicking between them, observant now, less awkward bystander, more something ancient and attentive. He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t explain. Just watched Rose like he was seeing consequences catch up to her in real time.
Rose dragged a hand through her hair, voice small. “I can explain- I- He wanted to go somewhere else for a while. He’s fine, it was just a last minute decision."
“Well, guess he took out a page from your book,” she said. “He’s not the only one stopped looking back.” The words hung there, unkind but true.
Rose looked at her then and whatever she saw seemed to finally crack through her defensiveness. “I didn’t forget about you,” she said quickly. “I swear. I just- everything’s been moving so fast.”
She let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, just not for the people you leave standing still.”
Rose opened her mouth and closed it again. There were a thousand truths stacked behind her eyes, none of them usable.
She couldn’t tell her she’d been falling through time and space with an alien who called himself the Doctor. She couldn’t explain parallel worlds or battles or the way some choices closed doors forever. She couldn’t say that Mickey hadn’t been abandoned, that he’d chosen to stay behind in another dimension, safe and settled in a life that no longer fit Rose’s.
Not without sounding completely mad. So instead, Rose did the only thing she could.
“Please,” she said, stepping forward, hands half-raised like she was afraid her friend might bolt. “Just- just give me a chance to explain. Properly. I promise it’ll make sense if you let me talk.”
She didn’t soften.
She didn’t step back either, but her expression hardened into something weary and resolute. “You could explain,” she said. “But first, give me one good reason.”
Rose blinked. “One…?”
“One good reason you left,” she continued evenly. “One good reason that doesn’t involve you disappearing for months and letting everyone else deal with the fallout. One good reason that makes any of this,” she gestured vaguely between them, “okay.”
Rose’s confidence faltered.
“I- well, I mean-” She stumbled, words tangling as she searched for something solid, something normal. “It’s just… things changed, and I-”
Every answer she reached for collapsed under its own weight. Every truth sounded impossible. Every lie sounded thin. The disappointment that crossed her friend’s face was quiet, but it cut deeper than anger ever could.
Rose swallowed hard, panic flashing in her eyes. “Okay. Right. Um, maybe this will help.” She turned abruptly and grabbed the sleeve of the man behind her. “This is the Doctor.”
The Doctor straightened instantly at the sound of his name, like a switch had been flipped. His polite awkwardness sharpened into alert curiosity, posture subtly shifting as he was dragged fully into the conversation.
“Hello,” he said again, a little more carefully this time. “Nice to properly meet you.”
She looked at him for the first time properly then. Too well put together for someone who looked like he didn’t quite belong anywhere. Clever eyes that missed nothing. And suddenly, she was very tired.
“Oh, no,” she said flatly, shaking her head before Rose could continue. “Stop.”
Rose froze. “What?”
She let out a breath that sounded more like a laugh without any humor. “I’m not interested, Rose. Not even a little.”
“In what?” Rose asked, though her voice wavered.
“In befriending your rebound boyfriend,” she said coolly, eyes flicking once to the Doctor and then back to Rose. “Or whatever this is supposed to be.”
The Doctor’s brows shot up. “Rebound- I’m not-?”
Rose flushed. “He’s not-!”
“Because if that’s where this is going,” she continued, voice firm, “save it. I’ve spent long enough cleaning up emotional messes you leave behind. I’m not signing up to do it again.”
The Doctor glanced at Rose, then back at her, mouth opening like he might object, then closing again as he seemed to reassess. Whatever he saw in her expression made him think better of it.
Rose looked stricken.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she said quickly, flustered. “I swear. It’s not like that.”
Her friend’s eyes narrowed, skepticism warring with exhaustion. “Then maybe,” she said quietly, “you should start explaining what is like that. Because from where I’m standing, Rose… it looks exactly like what Micky was worried about. You ran off with another man while he waited for you to fall back inlove with him, finally have the decency to break things off.” Her voice was steady but unforgiving.
“That’s not fair,” Rose snapped immediately, color rising in her cheeks. “I didn’t cheat on him, and I don't like you implying I did.”
The Doctor shifted beside her, clearly sensing the wrongness of the moment, but he stayed silent.
“I loved Mickey,” Rose went on, words tumbling out faster now. “I still do. We just drifted apart, that happens. People change.”
She held Rose’s gaze, unmoved, “Yeah,” she said flatly. “They do.”
Rose faltered. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“No,” she agreed, sharp and precise. “You just weren’t around anymore.”
Rose opened her mouth to argue, to defend herself, but she barreled on, the truth spilling out now that it had found momentum.
“You were always gone. Always somewhere else. Even when you were here, you weren’t really here. You left him waiting, Rose. You left him wondering what he’d done wrong while you disappeared with someone else.”
“That’s not-” Rose started.
“You don’t get to be offended,” she interrupted, voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady. “Not when that’s exactly how it looked. Not when that’s how it felt.”
Rose’s expression cracked, hurt and guilt tangling in her eyes.
“I didn’t think he’d leave,” she whispered.
“And that,” she replied softly, “is the problem.”
Rose looked away, swallowing hard, and for the first time since she’d reappeared, she looked less like someone who’d been living an adventure, and more like someone finally being forced to look at the damage she’d left behind.
Footsteps sounded from behind the ‘Doctor’ man, hurried and familiar.
“What’s all this, then?”
Jackie Tyler appeared, cardigan pulled tight around her, eyes already sharp with concern. She took one look at the scene, Rose’s wet eyes, her stricken expression, and her mouth tightened instantly.
“Rose?” Jackie said, moving closer. “What’s going on? What’s happened? What’s she said to you?”
Rose sniffed, shaking her head, clearly overwhelmed, and Jackie rounded on her without hesitation.
“Well?” Jackie demanded, voice rising. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Look at her, she’s in bits.”
She stared at Jackie in disbelief, a hollow laugh slipping out before she could stop it. “You’re joking,” she said flatly.
Jackie blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You’re really going to stand there and act like she’s done nothing wrong?” Her voice trembled now, anger finally breaking through the restraint she’d been clinging to. “Because I was here, Jackie. I was here when she disappeared. I was here when you cried and made posters and printed fliers, when you didn’t know if your daughter was dead or alive.”
Jackie faltered, lips parting.
“I was the one sitting with you,” she continued, words coming faster now. “Me and Micky. Making tea you didn’t drink. Telling you she’d come back. So don’t tell me I don’t have the right to be angry.”
Rose flinched at her name, guilt flooding her face.
“You never called,” she said, turning back to her friend. “You stopped answering texts. And when you finally did start coming home, you didn’t even bother to knock on my door. I had to hear about it secondhand. Every time.”
Her chest ached, the old hurt rising like a bruise being pressed too hard.
“It’s not fair,” she said, voice cracking despite herself. “It’s not fair that you get to cry and play the victim now, when I was the one waiting. Waiting for a call. Waiting for a visit. Waiting to matter again.”
Rose shook her head weakly. “I didn’t mean to-”
“I know, that’s the problem.” She took a shaky breath, eyes burning. “You were a bad friend, Rose. And I hate that saying it hurts this much, but it’s true.”
The words hit hard. Rose’s face crumpled.
“And I regret introducing Mickey to you,” she added quietly. “Because you took both of us for granted. You showed up when it was convenient, and disappeared when it wasn’t.”
Jackie looked between them, her instinctive motherly defense slowly eroding as the truth settled in. Her shoulders sagged, a long sigh escaping her.
“…She’s not wrong,” Jackie murmured, rubbing her temples. “God help me, she’s not.”
Rose’s eyes widened. “Mum-”
“Don’t,” Jackie said gently but firmly. “Sweetie, just. . . don’t.”
She turned back to her, voice softer now, regret threaded through it. “You’ve every right to be upset, love. Every bloody right.”
Then, after a moment, she straightened slightly, ever the mum despite everything. “Why don’t you come over for a cuppa,” she said, gesturing toward her flat. “All of you. Sit down. Talk it out properly before this gets any worse.”
The offer hung in the air, Rose looked at her hopefully, eyes red and pleading. She didn’t answer right away.
A few hours later, she sat curled on the edge of Jackie Tyler’s couch, mug of tea cooling untouched in her hands. Her brain still felt like it had been shaken and put back together wrong.
Aliens. Time travel. A blue police box that was somehow a spaceship, bigger on the inside, called the Tardis, whatever that actually meant. Daleks with their screeching voices and single-minded hatred. Cybermen. Slitheen posing as politicians. Worlds stacked on top of worlds, timelines branching like cracked glass.
And the Doctor.
The Doctor sat opposite her, perched awkwardly on the arm of a chair like he wasn’t entirely sure furniture obeyed the same rules he did. He’d explained everything at a mile a minute, hands waving, eyes bright with an enthusiasm that made the impossible sound almost reasonable..
And then there was Mickey. That had been the part that hurt the most.
Not because he’d left, she understood that now, but because he couldn’t come back. A parallel dimension. Another version of London. A life he’d chosen because staying had meant living in someone else’s shadow forever.
“He couldn’t answer his phone,” Rose had said softly. “Even if he wanted to.”
That knowledge settled in her chest like a stone.
She’d been bitter still, she hadn’t pretended otherwise. She’d pointed out, bluntly, that Rose could’ve been having a tea party with Jesus Christ himself this entire time and it still wouldn’t excuse abandoning the people who loved her. You didn’t leave friends behind like a knackered sofa on the curb and expect them to be fine with it.
Rose had taken it. No excuses. No jokes.
But eventually she’d admitted something else too. That even if she liked to believe she would’ve done things differently, she wasn’t sure she actually would have. Not if she’d been shown the universe. Not if every day was danger and wonder and impossible beauty wrapped together. It was probably very easy to get swept up in it all. To keep saying I’ll call tomorrow until tomorrow stopped existing.
So they’d made a deal.
Rose would come home. Properly home. Every few days, no matter how badly she wanted to see another planet or chase another impossible horizon. She’d check her phone every single time she stepped into the Tardis. No exceptions. No excuses.
Jackie had agreed instantly, arms crossed, expression sharp.
“For my sake,” she’d said pointedly. “Because I’m not printing fliers again.”
Now, sitting there with the quiet settling back into the flat, it all felt heavier. The universe was bigger than she’d ever imagined. She’d known about aliens, everyone did by now with what happened last christmas, but it was so much bigger than even that.
Dinner smells drifted in from the kitchens, onions sizzling, Jackie muttering to herself as she moved about with the well-practiced rhythm of a woman feeding people to keep them from falling apart.
Jackie Tyler was in her element now, clattering pans with purpose. “If the world’s not ending for five minutes,” she called over her shoulder, “you can all survive long enough for a proper meal.”
Rose laughed, the sound lighter than it had been all evening.
She noticed it too, the way Rose kept glancing at her, like she was checking to make sure the storm had really passed. Or at least eased. There was no scowl now, no sharp edge to her breathing, and that alone seemed to relax Rose visibly.
The three of them sat in the living room, her on one end of the sofa, Rose tucked cross-legged on the other, and The Doctor hovering somewhere in between, perched awkwardly.
Conversation flowed in fits and starts. Safe topics at first; Jackie’s neighbors, the state of the lift, The Doctor making an offhand comment about the kettle being “surprisingly resilient given the decade,” which earned him a look from Jackie that suggested don’t start.
She found herself listening more than speaking, letting the sound of their voices wash over her. It felt strange to sit here like this. Like they were almost back to something that resembled normal.
She wasn’t ready to forgive Rose. The hurt was still there, tucked under her ribs where it ached if she thought about it too hard. And she didn’t pretend otherwise. Rose seemed to understand.
“I know I don’t get it back straight away,” Rose said quietly at one point, eyes fixed on her hands. “Your trust, I know I’ve got a lot to make up for.”
She met Rose’s gaze, measured and honest. “It’s going to take time.”
“I’ve got time,” Rose said immediately. Then more sincere than she’d sounded all night, “I’ve got the rest of my life. And I mean that.”
The Doctor watched them both, expression unreadable but attentive, like he understood the weight of promises better than most. Jackie reappeared in the doorway a moment later, wiping her hands on a tea towel.
“Right,” she announced. “Dinner in ten. And nobody’s running off to another planet before then.”
The Doctor leaned back on the chair, nose wrinkling faintly. “Hope dinner’s better than the tea,” he muttered under his breath.
“What was that?” Jackie called from the kitchen immediately.
He straightened at once. “Nothing! Complimenting it. Pre-emptively. Very optimistic tea, really.”
Jackie scoffed. “Cheeky.”
She couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped her. Rose just smiled, clearly used to the bickering, used to him. The Doctor glanced between them, then finally turned his full attention to her, expression softening into something more earnest.
“Right,” he said. “I feel like I sort of… skipped a proper introduction. ‘Hello, I’m an alien who travels through time and space’ isn’t exactly standard first-impression material.”
She raised a brow. “Bit much for a handshake, yeah.”
He grinned, pleased. “Exactly. So, before all that, how did you and Rose meet?”
She glanced at Rose briefly, then back at him. “We worked in a shop together. Before it burned down.”
His face did something odd, half wince, half smile, like a child caught halfway between guilt and pride.
“Oh,” he said. “Right. About that.”
Her curiosity sharpened instantly. “What?”
Rose groaned. “Doctor.”
He lifted his hands defensively, eyes bright with mischief. “In my defense, it was already compromised.”
She looked between them. “Why do I feel like I’m about to hear something insane again?”
Rose sighed, resigned. “That was the night we met. Autons tried to invade Earth. Plastic people. Shop dummies.”
“They were very rude,” the Doctor added. “And surprisingly flammable.”
Her mouth fell open. “You’re telling me-”
“I blew it up,” he said cheerfully. “Saved the planet. Rose helped. Brilliant first date, really.”
Rose swatted his arm. “It was not a date.”
She stared at him, then laughed. A startled, incredulous sound she hadn’t expected to make.
“That was you?” she said, shaking her head. “All this time I thought it was faulty wiring.”
“Faulty wiring with ambition,” he corrected.
As he told the story, hands moving, words tumbling over themselves, eyes alight with that unmistakable spark, she found herself watching him more than listening. His mannerisms were impossible not to notice. The way he leaned forward when he got excited. The quick grin, crooked and unapologetic. The mischief in his eyes that suggested danger and delight in equal measure.
He was magnetic. She grew more amused with every detail, every interruption from Rose, every exaggerated aside. Somewhere along the way, the weight she’d been carrying eased just a little.
Jackie’s voice floated in from the kitchen. “Rose! Give me a hand with the table, love.”
Rose popped up immediately. “Yeah, coming!”
She shot her friend a small, hopeful smile before disappearing into the next room, the clatter of cutlery following her. The flat felt quieter without her, like the air had shifted.
She and the Doctor watched her go. Then they just looked at each other. A long, awkward beat stretched between them, neither quite sure how to step into it. His earlier bravado had softened into something more hesitant, hands fidgeting in his pant pockets. Finally, he cleared his throat.
“So,” The Doctor said, too casual, “what do you do for fun?”
The question came out rushed, clearly the first thing he’d latched onto. He immediately looked faintly mortified, because he was nine hundred years old, a Time Lord, and this was a stranger. A very pretty stranger, admittedly, but that was beside the point. Entirely.
She didn’t seem to mind.
She shrugged lightly. “I read. A lot. Scroll through forums when I can’t sleep. I like sci-fi telly,” she added, amused by the way his eyebrows jumped at that almost judgmental but he school the expression. “Mostly I work, though. Feels like that’s where most of my time goes.”
“Right,” he said, nodding earnestly, like this was vital information. “Important things, then. Reading. Sci-fi. Forums are very underrated. You get some excellent conspiracy theories.”
She laughed, then tilted her head. “What about you?”
His grin came instantly, bright and unapologetic. “Oh, I like to set the controls to random and let the Tardis take me wherever she feels like.”
She blinked. “Isn’t that dangerous? Not knowing where you’ll end up?”
He leaned in just slightly, eyes glinting. “Oh yes.”
Something about the way he said it, delighted and wicked,made her smile back without thinking. She found herself genuinely entertained by him. It helped, admittedly, that he was pretty. But more than that, he was interesting in a way that tugged at her curiosity.
“I can see how Rose got caught up in it all,” she said thoughtfully. “Especially with you. You make a brilliant first impression. I can only imagine how much fun you are once someone actually gets to know you.”
He froze for half a second, then his smile softened, something shy and touched slipping through the bravado.
“Well,” he said quietly, “that might be the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all day.”
Their eyes met again, the moment lingering just a little longer this time. From the other room, Rose’s laugh rang out as Jackie bossed her around.
The Doctor hesitated. It was subtle, just a fraction too long before he spoke again, but she noticed. He rubbed his thumb against the seam of his pocket, eyes flicking briefly toward the doorway Rose had disappeared through, as if weighing whether this was his place to say anything at all.
“There is one more thing,” The Doctor said gently. “About Mickey.”
Her shoulders tensed, but she nodded. “Okay.”
“In the other world,” he continued carefully, “his gran’s still alive. Same flat and everything.” A small, fond smile tugged at his mouth. “From what I gathered, they were very close. He stayed, mostly because he thought it might bring her some comfort. Not being alone.”
The tension eased out of her in a slow breath.
“Oh,” she said quietly.
The smile that followed was bittersweet, soft at the edges. “I’m glad,” she admitted. “She was wonderful. Used to insist on feeding everyone whether they were hungry or not. Mickey adored her.”
“She adored him right back,” the Doctor said. “That much was obvious.”
The moment settled between them, gentle and sad and complete in a way grief rarely was. Closure wasn’t something people got often. He seemed to recognize that too. He shifted then, moving to sit on the couch beside her not too close, careful of her space.
“Can I ask you something?” he said, quieter now.
She glanced at him. “Sure.”
“Family,” he said. “Do you have anyone waiting for you at home?”
She shook her head, a simple motion that carried more weight than it should have. “Not really. I moved out ages ago. It’s just me now.” A pause. Then, honest and unguarded, “I don’t really feel a want to visit anyone.”
“Oh,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”
She gave a small shrug, like it was an old bruise she’d learned not to press. “It’s fine. It’s been that way a while.”
He nodded slowly, reading what she hadn’t said. The quiet evenings. The limited circle. The way losses stacked when there weren’t many people to begin with.
“That’s probably why,” he said gently, “Rose leaving hurt the way it did.”
Her breath caught, just slightly.
“When you don’t have many people,” he went on, voice low, “losing even one feels catastrophic.”
She looked at him and saw it mirrored there. Different details. Same shape of pain. He understood. Maybe not in the same way. Maybe not for the same reasons. But he understood what it was to outlive, to be left behind, to love fiercely because there were only so many chances left to do so.
Then, from the kitchen, Jackie called that dinner was ready. The spell broke but the understanding didn’t.
That night, Rose had stayed.
The Doctor, mercifully perceptive, had excused himself early, muttering something about “checking the stabilizers” and disappearing back to the Tardis to give them space. What followed hadn’t been neat or pretty, but it had been real. Late-night tea. Biscuits gone stale. Voices lowered and raised in turns. Old hurts dragged into the light and finally spoken aloud instead of festering.
She, Rose, and Jackie had ended up sprawled across the living room in mismatched blankets like teenagers again, a strange, healing sort of slumber party. Jackie cried. Rose cried harder. She cried too, eventually, until the sharpest edges of the pain dulled just enough to breathe around.
They didn’t fix everything, but they started.
By morning, Rose had left with The Doctor, not sneaking away this time, not vanishing between one moment and the next. She’d knocked on her door properly, eyes bright but sincere, and wrapped her in a long, grounding hug.
“I’ll be back,” Rose promised. “I swear.”
She believed her.
Now, days later, she lounged on her own couch, the familiarity of her flat settling comfortably around her. Socks kicked off somewhere on the floor. A mug of coffee sweating quietly on the table beside her. The television murmured in the background, some daytime program she wasn’t really watching, just letting exist to keep the silence from growing teeth.
A book rested open in her hands. She read a few pages. Paused. Turned another page. Her eyes drifted off the page without her realizing it, the words blurring together as her thoughts wandered somewhere else entirely.
To him.
The Doctor.
She wondered how he was doing, wherever doing happened to be for someone like him. Somewhere loud and dangerous, probably. Somewhere impossible. He’d been so kind that night, so careful with her feelings in a way she hadn’t expected. It might have been the bare minimum, sure, but it had stood out all the same, especially after Rose’s instinctive defensiveness at the beginning of it all, after feeling like she’d had to justify her hurt just to be allowed to have it.
With him, she hadn’t. He’d listened. Not to argue, not to fix, just to understand. She realized, with a small, surprised ache, that she missed him.
She missed the way his eyes lit up when he talked about the universe, the rapid-fire explanations that somehow made nonsense sound logical. She wanted to hear more stories about planets that weren’t on any map, about disasters narrowly avoided, about places so beautiful they made centuries-old memories feel new again.
And she wanted to ask him questions about the alien thing, mostly. He looked human. Two arms, two legs, familiar expressions. But he clearly wasn’t, and that fascinated her. How did that work? What felt different to him? What was different about him?
She had a dozen questions lined up in her head, curious and half-formed, tbut she didn’t know if she’d ever get answers. Didn’t know when she’d see him again, or if she would at all.
That was the strange thing about knowing someone who lived outside the rules of ordinary life. They slipped through cracks you didn’t even know were there.
She sighed softly, thumb marking her place in the book as she leaned back against the couch. The sound hit the air like a living thing.
A deep, wheezing woosh, mechanical and impossible, close enough to make the hairs on her arms lift. Her heart jumped and then she grinned. She knew that sound.
She’d heard it the morning Rose and the Doctor had left. Hadn’t seen the Tardis yet, not properly, but she didn’t need to. The noise alone was unmistakable now, like a calling card from another reality.
She dropped her book onto the couch without bothering to mark the page, slid her feet into her slippers, and crossed the room in a hurry. The TV clicked off as she passed it. If Rose was back, she knew exactly where she’d be going, her moms flat.
The hallway felt shorter than usual as she moved, anticipation buzzing under her skin. She reached the door just as voices rounded the corner, unmistakable.
Rose Tyler came into view first, mid-laugh, looking brighter than she had in weeks, beside her was The Doctor. He stopped short when he saw her, surprise flickering across his face before breaking into a grin that felt entirely genuine.
“Well,” he said, delighted, “that’s excellent timing.”
Rose beamed. “See? I told you she’d hear it.”
She laughed, breathless and happy in a way that surprised her, standing there in her slippers with her heart thumping. “Hard not to,” she said. “Sounds like the universe clearing its throat.”
The Doctor’s eyes lit up at that. “Oh, I like her.”
“So,” she asked lightly, “how long has it been for you two? Since, you know, time travel and all.”
The Doctor answered before Rose Tyler could even draw breath.
“Just about a week,” he said cheerfully. “Give or take a few minutes. We visited a planet with seven moons, lovely sunsets, absolute nightmare tides. Then there was coronation of Queen Elizabeth II and this thing called the Wire.”
She blinked. “The wire?”
“Creature,” he clarified, far too casually. “Lived in the television signal. Ate people’s brainwaves through their TVs.”
Her face did something between horror and fascination. “That’s, oh my god. That’s awful. and terrifying. And why is that a thing.”
Rose grinned. “You should’ve seen it. Nearly got me good, actually.”
She shot Rose an immediate look. “That’s not funny.”
Rose’s smile faltered just a bit. “I was fine.”
The Doctor stepped in smoothly, resting a reassuring hand on Rose’s shoulder. “She was never in any real danger,” he said firmly. “The Wire was dealt with pretty easily in the end. Won’t bother anyone again. All wrapped up.”
He glanced at Rose, softer now. “Nothing’s going to happen to her on my watch.”
That did something to her chest, settled it, just a little. She nodded, relieved despite herself. “Good. I’m glad you both made it back okay.”
Then, after a beat, she looked at him properly. “And you? Are you alright?”
The Doctor paused, clearly not expecting that question. Then he grinned, genuinely pleased. “Yeah,” he said. “I am. Thanks for asking.” The Doctor stood there smiling, looked at her like that concern mattered more than she knew.
Rose caught the way the Doctor’s eyes lingered, the soft twinkle in them as he looked at her friend like she was the most interesting thing in the room. The sight sparked a brief, unexpected pang of jealousy in her chest.
She didn’t have long to sit with it cause Jackie flung the door open with perfect timing. “Rose!” she exclaimed, grabbing her daughter by the arm and hauling her inside. “You didn’t tell me you were popping back so soon!”
“Mum!” Rose laughed, stumbling forward.
Jackie shot her friend a look over Rose’s shoulder. “I should’ve had you do the scolding ages ago. Seems you’re the only one who finally got her to take coming home seriously.”
“Happy to be of service,” she replied dryly.
The Doctor chuckled as Rose was dragged fully into the flat, Jackie’s voice already launching into a fresh round of affectionate fussing. The door remained open for them but for a brief moment neither she nor The Doctor moved to follow.
They stood there instead, facing each other with small, easy smile, unspoken joy passing between them at the simple fact of seeing one another again.
“Your timing’s funny,” she said casually. “I was just thinking about you.” She meant nothing by it, just an observation of a coincidence.
But the Doctor’s brain latched onto exactly one part of that sentence.
“Oh,” he said, suddenly flustered. “You were?”
His ears went a touch pink as he cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in adjusting his jacket. “Right. Well. Good timing then. Excellent timing. I’m very punctual. Well . . . sometimes. Well . . . it depends.”
She blinked, then smiled, amused. He flashed her a sheepish grin and finally stepped forward, following Rose inside, trying to look like the idea that she’d been thinking about him hadn’t just made his entire day.
Jackie immediately went into overdrive, scooping up half-folded laundry from the couch and piling it onto a chair. “I swear, I only sat down for one minute,” she said, already fluffing cushions and clearing space. “Honestly, you’d think I lived in a pigsty.”
“I don’t,” Rose said brightly, grabbing an armful of clothes to help finish folding.
Jackie snorted. “That’s one word for it. Tea? I’ll put the kettle on.”
The Doctor’s face betrayed him immediately. Not dramatically, just a subtle tightening around the eyes, a look of quiet dread that didn’t escape her notice. She bit back a smile.
“I can make it,” she offered quickly, stepping forward. “You’ve got your hands full, Jackie.”
It was half true. Jackie was fussing over Rose like she might disappear again if she looked away too long. The other half was t he faint, relieved smile that spread across the Doctor’s face was absolutely worth the effort.
“Oh, you’re a star,” Jackie said warmly. “Thank you, love.”
She nodded and slipped into the kitchen, already filling the kettle. Behind her, Rose and Jackie continued folding and chatting, the room filling with the easy noise of reunion. The Doctor lingered for a moment, hands in his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels like he was debating something very serious.
Jackie had Rose. Rose had Jackie.
He didn’t need to be there. He told himself he was just being helpful. So he followed her into the kitchen.
The Doctor leaned against the counter, pretending casual interest in the kettle as it heated. “Thought I’d assist,” he said lightly. “Moral support. Very important. Kitchens can be dangerous.”
She glanced at him, amused. “With a kettle?”
“Oh yes. Terrifying things.”
She laughed softly as she reached for mugs, the sound easy and unguarded. He watched her for a moment longer than necessary, comforted by the ordinary intimacy of it, cups clinking, water running, the smell of tea leaves.
Really, he just wanted a few more minutes. A little longer to talk to her, away from the noise, before the universe inevitably demanded his attention again.
“So,” The Doctor said lightly, “what were you thinking about just then?”
She lifted a mug, gesturing toward the kettle as it clicked off. “Tea…?” she offered, deadpan.
He laughed, a quick, delighted sound. “Right, yes, thrilling inner life. No, I meant-” He hesitated just a fraction, then went for it. “What were you thinking about me? Before we turned up.” Just genuinely curious.
She blinked, then laughed softly, shaking her head as she dropped a teabag into a mug. “You’re very friendly,” she said, thoughtful now. “But also mysterious, and I’ve got a lot of questions.”
“Oh good,” he said immediately. “Love questions.”
“The how, the why, the what,” she went on, glancing at him. “Of who you are.”
His smile softened, less showy now. “Go on, then.”
She considered him for a moment, eyes searching his face. “Why do you look so human,” she asked, “if you’re not? I mean, you look exactly like one. And are there other aliens like that? Human-looking ones?”
That did it. His eyes lit up, delighted by the rightness of the question.
“Oh, excellent place to start,” he said, straightening. “Short answer? Coincidence and convergent evolution. Long answer?” He gestured vaguely. “Very long. Possibly involves ancient timelines and a lot of running.”
She smiled as she poured the water. “I’ve got time.”
He watched her for a beat, something warm and unreadable passing over his face.
“Right,” he said softly. “So, humans aren’t as unique as you think. Bipedal, bilateral symmetry, opposable thumbs- avery popular design across the universe. And Time Lords, my people, we’re very similar. Same basic blueprint. Two hearts, though. That’s a bit different.”
She paused mid-pour. “Two.”
“Yep,” he said cheerfully. “Handy in a crisis.”
“And the others?” she asked.
“Oh, loads of human-looking species,” he said. “Some closer than others. Some are cousins. Some just happen to look like you. Universe loves recycling ideas.”
She shook her head in quiet amazement, handing him a mug. “That’s incredible.”
He took it carefully, smiling at her over the rim. “You’re taking this remarkably well.”
She shrugged. “I’ve already accepted plastic people and brain-eating televisions. This feels reasonable.”
He laughed again, softer this time. “And that,” he said, eyes bright, “is why I was curious what you were thinking.” Because she wasn’t frightened, she was interested. And for a man who spent his life running, that kind of curiosity was dangerous in the best possible way.
It was the trait he looked for in everyone he welcomed into the Tardis. Not fearlessness, no one sensible was fearless, but wonder. The willingness to look at the impossible and ask ‘why’ instead of just ‘how do I get away’.
That thought sparked something.
He only considered it for a moment before he spoke. “I could show you,” he said casually, like he was offering to point out the view from a window. “The Tardis, I mean. If you think I’m fascinating, you should see my ship. She’s beautiful.”
She stared at him.
“Are you serious?” she asked, a little breathless now. “I mean, are you sure? I could just take a peek, I’ve been so curious but I didn’t want to-”
He looked at her like she’d just asked if the sky was allowed to be blue.
“Alright?” he echoed, incredulous. “You’re asking if it’s alright? Of course you’re welcome.” He shook his head, smiling.
Her face lit up instantly. She beamed and did what could only be described as a small, uncontained happy dance right there in the kitchen, mug in hand, tea sloshing dangerously close to the rim.
He laughed outright, delighted. “Careful! Temporal displacement I can fix. Spilled tea? Tragedy.”
She laughed too, cheeks warm, still grinning as she finished pouring.
Then like it was nothing, like he hadn’t just cracked her world open already, he added, “And if you ever wanted you could come with me.”
She froze, “Come with you?”
“Mm-hmm,” he said lightly. “Anywhere. Anywhen. All of time and space. Your choice.”
Her eyes sparkled, wonder blooming bright and unguarded across her face as she actually let herself imagine it. Stars she’d never seen. Places no one had names for. Histories untouched, futures unwritten. The universe at the palm of her hand, the greatest gift.
Her smile softened, then tilted shyly downward, like she’d suddenly remembered herself. “There was another part,” she admitted, quieter now. “Slightly embarrassing.”
The Doctor cocked his head, instantly attentive. “Embarrassing parts are usually the important ones.”
She huffed a small laugh at that, then turned back to the counter, finishing the tea and setting the mugs aside to steep. She kept her eyes on the kettle a moment longer than necessary.
“Well,” she said, carefully, “that first night, with you telling stories. About where you’ve been, what you’ve seen.” She hesitated, then went on, braver. “You’re a really good storyteller.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“I kept thinking about it,” she continued, voice warm but self-conscious. “About the places you mentioned. The way you talked about them. And I realized I missed you.” She rushed the last part slightly. “Not in a strange way, just because I wanted to hear more stories.”
That did it. He went still, like someone had gently but decisively unplugged his brain.
“Oh,” he said, eloquent as ever.
She risked a glance at him then and immediately looked away again, cheeks warm. “I know that probably sounds silly.”
“No,” he said at once, flustered now in a way that had nothing to do with saving the universe. “No, it doesn’t. I just-” He laughed, running a hand through his hair. “You missed me.”
She nodded, tiny and earnest. “Yeah.”
He looked absurdly pleased. Genuinely, openly flattered, like she’d handed him something precious without realizing it. The centuries-old grief, the running, the walls, none of it mattered in that moment.
She went on, softer now. “And when you talked about showing me the Tardis, the idea of having a story of my own.” She smiled faintly. “That made me happy.” Then, quickly, before the moment could tip too far, she added, “But, I still want to hear yours. If you’re willing. More stories, I mean.”
He stared at her for a beat, then his smile spread slow and bright, something fond and unmistakably sincere.
“Willing?” he echoed. “I’ve been waiting centuries for someone who actually wants to hear them. Most people tell me i talk to much”
“Call it inexpirance, but you may not talk enough.” The kettle clicked softly as the tea finished steeping, grounding the moment in something ordinary and warm.
Rose Tyler poked her head into the kitchen, brows lifting. “What’s taking so-”
She stopped; The Doctor was leaning back against the counter, posture loose in a way Rose had rarely seen, looking at her friend with a smile that was softer than his usual grin, a fond little thing. And her friend stood there with the kettle between them like a shield, bashfully studying anything but his face.
Something unpleasant twisted in Rose’s chest: jealousy.
It surprised her with its sharpness, and she hated it immediately. He’d just met her a week ago. Properly met her, anyway. And the Doctor, her Doctor, had never shown much interest in romance at all. He ran, he joked, he flirted harmlessly sometimes, but he never lingered like this. Never looked at someone like they were interesting in a way that went beyond curiosity.
So what was so special about her?
The thought felt ugly the moment it formed, and guilt followed close behind. Rose swallowed it down hard. This wasn’t fair on anyone. The Doctor was charming and handsome and brilliant, yes, and maybe some small, foolish part of her had always assumed that if he ever did look at someone like that, it would be her.
But standing there in the doorway, watching them, she forced herself to breathe. Her friend hadn’t done anything wrong. If anything, she’d been extraordinary. She was honest, firm, kind when it mattered. And if the Doctor saw something in her who was Rose to begrudge it? Especially when she herself wasn’t even sure what she wanted, or if she’d ever truly had a chance at all.
Besides, Rose told herself firmly, she might be reading into things that weren’t there. The Doctor was friendly. He smiled like that sometimes.
Maybe.
Regardless, right then, in that kitchen, The Doctor was having a realization he absolutely hadn’t planned on. He knew what he was feeling, and that was the problem.
She fascinated him. Completely, utterly. From the very first night, standing her ground when Rose tried to deflect, refusing to let anyone wriggle out of the hurt they’d caused. Holding Rose accountable not out of cruelty, but out of love. Giving her a chance to be forgiven without pretending nothing had happened.
Strength, he decided, came in many forms. And hers was quiet, steady, unshowy. Sweet, but not naïve. Fiery, but fair. Reasonable in a universe that rarely was. She’d impressed him. Deeply.
And somewhere between her curiosity, her kindness, and the way she’d handled the impossible without flinching, he’d found himself flatteringly, inconveniently, undeniably drawn in.
It was ridiculous. If you’d told him two weeks ago that he’d develop a crush on someone he’d just met, he’d have pointed and laughed at you like you admitted to being an archaeologist. Absolutely ridiculous.
He didn’t do this. He didn’t linger. He didn’t let himself want. Yet here he was, leaning against a counter in a London kitchen, smiling at a woman who made him want to slow down and talk.
Rose cleared her throat loudly. Both of them jumped.
“Tea ready, then?” Rose asked, forcing brightness into her voice.
Her friend turned, relief and embarrassment flickering across her face. “Yeah, sorry, just finished.”
The Doctor straightened a bit too quickly, running a hand through his hair. “Right. Tea. Excellent.”
Rose smiled, the jealousy already retreating, guilt still lingering but quieter now. She watched them and made herself a promise. Whatever this was, she wouldn’t be the one to ruin it. Not after everything she’d done already, even if it sucked for her.
A few hours later, tea cups were rinsed and stacked, chatter had softened into comfortable quiet, and the sun had dipped low enough to paint the street in warm gold.
She stood on the pavement staring at a blue police box.
Up close, it was ridiculous. Utterly ordinary in the way only something profoundly unordinary could be hiding behind. Beside it, The Doctor beamed like a child on Christmas morning.
“Go on,” he urged, bouncing on his heels. “You open the doors. Always better that way.”
Her stomach fluttered. She hesitated, wiping her suddenly sweaty palm on her trousers, then reached out and pulled the door open.
She didn’t step inside. Couldn’t. She just stared.
The world fell away in a rush of soundless astonishment as her eyes tried to make sense of what they were seeing. The space stretched impossibly before her, golden and vast and alive, humming with something ancient and welcoming. Her thoughts skidded to a halt, overwhelmed.
When she finally found her voice, it came out breathless and reverent.
“I didn’t really believe the whole ‘bigger on the inside’ thing,” she said softly. “But this is- this is even more incredible than I imagined.”
She turned her head to look at him, and froze. The Doctor looked horrified. Not mildly concerned or puzzled. Properly, utterly mortified.
“Oh god,” she said instantly, heart leaping into her throat. “What? What did I do?”
He stepped forward quickly and shut the door.
Her panic spiked. “Doctor?”
For half a second she was convinced she’d committed some unspeakable cosmic crime. Then she watched his expression shift in real time. Horror melted into confusion. Confusion into wonder.
He grabbed the handle and pulled the door open again. Stared at the hinges then closed it. Then, slowly, deliberately, he pushed the doors open. He turned to her, eyes wide, stunned and utterly delighted.
“Why did you pull?” he asked.
She blinked at him. “Because that’s what the sign says?” She pointed at the door, where the instructions were very clearly printed.
PULL TO OPEN
He stared at it, then stared at her. “I’ve always pushed,” he admitted faintly.
She raised a brow, amusement blooming through her lingering awe. “You’ve had this thing for how long?”
“About seven hundred years,” he said with a jut of his chin as he did quick math. “Give or take.”
“And you’ve been opening it wrong the whole time.”
He laughed, loud and incredulous, running a hand through his hair. “Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.” She smiled back, warmth and wonder tangling together in her chest. The Doctor shrugged off the door mishap like it hadn’t quietly rocked his understanding of reality just a little, then stepped aside with a flourish.
“After you,” The Doctor said warmly.
She crossed the threshold at last.
The moment her foot touched the floor, she turned slowly in place, eyes wide, breath catching as she took it all in. The hum of the engines vibrated through her bones, not loud, but like it was breathing. Golden light glinted off the console, shadows stretching up into impossible heights.
“Oh,” she breathed. “It’s wonderful.” That word felt inadequate, but it was all she had.
She drifted closer to the console, fingers hovering just above the surface, respectful even in her awe. Dials and levers and switches crowded together in beautiful, incomprehensible harmony.
She grinned, impressed. “This looks like it could do anything.”
The Doctor didn’t answer right away, he just watched her. This was his favorite part, always had been. The moment someone saw the Tardis properly for the first time. The wonder, the sparkle in their eyes when the universe cracked open and invited them in. He admired her curiosity, the way she leaned in, the way her questions formed before she even spoke them.
“Did you build it?” she asked suddenly, turning to him. “Or did you buy it?”
He laughed softly. “Oh no. Tardises aren’t built.”
She blinked. “They’re not?”
“They’re grown,” he said. “Raised.”
Her head snapped around as she spun in a slow circle, eyes even wider than before. “Wait, does that mean the Tardis is alive?”
His grin was immediate and unapologetic. “Very much so, she’s sentient. Organic and incredibly complex, smarter than me most days.”
She stared at the console like it might blink back at her. “That’s incredible.” Then, carefully, “Does she have a name, or is ‘Tardis’ her name?”
“Tardis isn’t a name,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s an acronym; Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. What she is, not who.”
“So what do you call her?” she asked.
He shrugged lightly. “Well, that’s the thing, I don’t really know if she has a name. I don’t have a way of speaking to her properly. Not like that. Maybe she does, maybe she’s beyond the social construct of names entirely.”
She absorbed that in reverent silence, eyes flicking between him and the console, fingers curling at her sides like she was holding herself still.
She stood at the console a moment longer, watching the lights blink and pulse like something breathing. She said softly, almost shy. “You’re beautiful.”
The air shifted and a low hum rolled through the room. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, mechanical and otherworldly, like the Tardis itself had drawn a slow, pleased breath.
She froze. “Was that-?”
The Doctor’s grin spread instantly, bright and delighted, “She likes you.”
Her face lit up, wonder written into every line. “She said thank you.”
“She did,” he confirmed. “Very polite.”
She beamed, laughter bubbling up as she turned in another slow circle, taking it all in again his world, his impossible ship, the warmth of being welcomed by something so ancient and alive.
Then her curiosity tugged her back to him.
“What about you?” she asked gently. “You said you’re a Time Lord. What exactly does that mean? What were you meant to do?”
His smile softened, “Time Lords,” he said slowly, choosing his words cafully, “We didn’t just travel through it they ruled over the laws of time and space. We invented time travel. We grew Tardises to help monitor reality, fix paradoxes, protect the universe from tearing itself apart.”
He looked past her, past the console, eyes dimming with old grief.
“My people are gone now . . . there was a war,” He difted off, decideing not to go into details of that now. “I’m the last Time Lord.”
Her chest tightened.
“And she,” he added quietly, resting a hand against the console, “is the last Tardis.” The sadness in his eyes moved her more than all the wonders he’d shown her. She stepped closer, voice gentle but certain.
“Then at least you have each other,” she said. “You and her. That’s a beautiful friendship.”
For a moment, he couldn’t speak. He looked at the console, his ship, his oldest friend, the one constant that had stayed when everything else burned and fell away, and felt a swell of gratitude so sharp it almost hurt.
“Yes,” he said softly. “It is.”
The Tardis hummed again, warmer this time, and the Doctor smiled, grateful for the ship that had saved him more times than he could count, and for the woman standing beside him who had seen the heart of it all so clearly.
The Doctor cleared his throat, the sound just a little too deliberate. He shrugged out of his trench coat and draped it over the railing, the familiar motion giving his hands something to do. Then he moved around the console, fingers idly adjusting switches and dials that didn’t need adjusting, muscle memory, a habit for comfort, to keep distance.
Vulnerability had a way of sneaking up on him.
He didn’t linger in it. Showing the raw edges of himself to someone he’d just met went against his instinct, and yet he’d done it anyway. Trusted her with something fragile without quite knowing why. So he pivoted.
“Well then,” The Doctor said lightly, not quite meeting her eyes, “enough about me. What about you?”
She blinked, surprised. “Me?”
“Yes, you,” he said, glancing up now, earnest beneath the deflection. “Tell me something. Anything. Hobbies, dreams, secret ambitions, irrational fears.”
The Tardis hummed, low and knowing.
“Oh no you don’t,” he muttered under his breath, giving the console a pointed look. “Stay out of it.”
The hum deepened, amused. He ignored his ship, his ancient conspirator, and focused instead on the woman standing across from him. The way she smiled, warm and curious, like she wasn’t intimidated by the universe humming around them. Like she was comfortable here already.
His two hearts gave an entirely unhelpful thump. He straightened, giving her his full attention now, and smiled back, softer than before, but no less bright.
“Go on,” he said gently. “Your turn.”
She shrugged, a little self-conscious now that the focus was on her.
“There’s not much to tell,” she said. “I’m just going through the motions, really. Finished school, moved out on my own. Couldn’t afford university on a shop salary, so I got a flat and buckled down, worked, paid rent, thats about it.” She gestured vaguely, like her life could be summed up with a flick of her wrist. “Outside of Rose, Micky, and Jackie, I don’t have much of a social life. No impressive hobbies or anything worth showing off.”
The words came easily. Too easily.
She’d been minimizing herself for as long as she could remember. It was second nature now, shrinking her story down before anyone else could decide it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t anything special. That was the rule she lived by.
The Doctor didn’t believe a word of it. The Doctor watched her as she spoke, brow faintly furrowed, like she was describing someone else entirely. Someone who was dull and forgettable. It didn’t line up with the woman standing in his Tardis, unafraid, curious, kind enough to speak gently to a sentient time machine. It didn’t line up with the way his hearts reacted every time she smiled at him.
“There has to be something,” he said softly. “People don’t just exist like that.”
She hesitated, then sighed. “I wanted to be a teacher,” she admitted. “If I could’ve afforded it, that’s what I would’ve done.”
Something in his expression shifted.
“Oh,” he said.
And suddenly he could see it, clear as a memory that hadn’t happened yet. Her standing at the front of a classroom, chalk dust on her hands, explaining something with that quiet enthusiasm of hers. Smiling when someone finally got it. Sharing knowledge not because she wanted credit, but because she wanted others to understand. It fit her perfectly.
“That makes sense,” he said, warmth creeping into his voice. “You’re curious. Bright. You ask the right questions and you listen. That’s what good teachers do.”
She blinked. “You think so?”
“I know so,” he said, without hesitation. “That’s special.”
For a moment she just stared at him, then she grinned, a little disbelieving that thats all it took to be ‘special’. No one had ever said that to her before. She shrugged again, instinctively trying to shake it off, but her cheeks had gone warm, and she knew it.
“Bet you say things like that to all the girls,” she teased lightly, aiming for casual.
The Doctor scoffed immediately, a soft laugh escaping him as he shook his head. “Absolutely not.” He smiled wide. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
That was not the answer she’d expected. And notably, he hadn’t rushed to deny the implication that he might be flirting with her. She blinked, just a fraction, caught off guard by that realization. Flustered in a way that had nothing to do with aliens or time machines.
“Oh,” she said, then quickly waved it off. “Right. Sorry. I was joking.”
He hummed, still smiling, eyes gentle. “I know.”
She turned away under the pretense of looking at the console again, not wanting to read too much into anything. Overthinking had a way of ruining perfectly good moments, and she wasn’t about to let her brain spiral now.
The Tardis gave a soft, knowing hum.
A cheerful voice rang out behind them.
“Hello!” Rose bounded into the Tardis, all energy and familiarity, coming to a stop beside the console like she belonged there, which, to be fair, she did. Her eyes flicked between them almost immediately.
She clocked the details in a heartbeat. Her friend’s cheeks were pink an The Doctor cleared his throat and took two conspicuously casual steps away, suddenly very invested in a cluster of buttons and levers that absolutely did not need his attention. Rose’s brow lifted just a fraction.
Her friend, determined not to let her thoughts spiral, turned first, grinning a little too brightly, nerves humming under her skin. “Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”
Rose shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Just wondering what you two were up to.”
Before either of them could answer, The Doctor jumped in, far too quickly.
“I was just about to ask if she wanted to take me up on my offer,” he said, spinning back toward them. “Go somewhere.”
Rose blinked. “Your offer?" That was new.
Her smile tightened almost imperceptibly as the realization settled in her mind. This was the first she was hearing about her friend possibly joining them. The small, guilty jealousy she’d been trying to suppress surged again, sharp and unwelcome.
She didn’t like the idea of sharing. She’d always felt special here. Like she was important and chosen. And if her friend came along too, didn’t that mean she wasn’t as special? Not as necessary?
Rose nodded anyway, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. Brilliant,” she said. “That’d be great.”
The Doctor noticed the stiffness and the way her posture locked up just a bit too much. He felt a flicker of disappointment settle in his chest. He’d seen this before, Rose’s possessiveness, this need to be the only one. It wasn’t new, and it wasn’t something he liked about her.
He didn’t say anything but the feeling lingered. Thankfully, his guest missed all of it entirely, she was beaming.
“Are you serious?” she asked, eyes shining. “I can really come with you? I mean, are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”
“Intrude?” he echoed, incredulous.
He waved the thought away immediately, smiling at her with easy warmth. “Of course you’re welcome. The Tardis likes you, and you’re splendid company.”
The TARDIS hummed approvingly, as if on cue.
Her face lit up fully then, unguarded excitement spilling over. “That’s- Thank you! Oh, wow, this’ll be so much fun.” Ecstatic didn’t even begin to cover the arua coming off her, the light in her eyes.
Watching her like that, so openly delighted, so unaware of the quiet tension beside her, the Doctor felt certain of one thing; inviting her had been the right choice. Even if it complicated things.
The Doctor moved around the console with infectious energy, fingers dancing over switches as he read the engines like a living pulse. He shared in her excitement easily, grinning as the Tardis thrummed beneath them, ready.
“Where do you want to go?” He asked, spinning back toward her, eyes alight. He spread his hands, generous and sincere. “Past. Future. Another planet. Another galaxy. Anywhere at all, your call.”
She laughed, caught up in it, his enthusiasm lifting her clean off the floor. She did a little bunny hop back toward the console, peering over the controls as he talked, watching him move, watching how alive he was like this.
“Diamond waterfalls,” he rattled on, delighted. “Or a planet where everything’s edible, even the dirt, though I wouldn’t recommend it. Or floating cities. Or- oh!- bioluminescent forests that sing when it rains.”
She stared, wide-eyed, wild fascination dancing across her face. By the time he finished his ramble, he’d circled the console completely and come to a stop right in front of her. He waited, quiet now, looking straight into her eyes.
“Well?” he asked softly.
She hesitated, jittery with energy, then grinned, “What if we let the Tardis decide?”
His grin spread slow and proud. “Random?”
She nodded. “You said you like that.”
He laughed, delighted. “Brave choice. Especially for your first trip. Could be dangerous,” he added lightly, echoing her from a week ago.
She didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll take my chances, doc.”
He paused, just a flicker, then smiled, unbothered. He preferred Doctor, sure. But coming from her, it felt right. The Tardis hummed, pleased.
Behind them, a tight voice cut in. “Are we leaving now, then?”
Rose Tyler stood near the railing, arms crossed just a touch too carefully. “Because I just made dinner plans with Mum. Was hoping we’d all join.”
The Doctor glanced at her, reading the stiffness she tried to hide. He sighed, gentle but firm. “You could stay with your mum,” he offered. “We’ll just pop out for a quick trip. Be back before supper’s ready.”
Rose stared at him, stunned. He hadn’t offered to stay. He’d offered to leave without her.
“Oh,” she said, masking it quickly. “Right. Yeah, sure. Have fun.” She turned to go, lightness forced, and nearly made it out-
“Rose,” her friend said, stopping her.
She crossed the distance and pulled Rose into a hug, brief but sincere. “I’ll see you soon,” she promised. Rose softened at that, hugging her back.
“Be safe,” she said quietly, then she left.
The Doctor watched her go for a moment, conflicted, then turned back to the console. He set the final coordinates, none at all, and threw the lever.
The engines roared to life.
The Tardis lurched forward with a delighted shudder, and as time and space peeled away, he glanced at his new companion, eyes bright, heart racing, ready.
“Hold on,” he said, grinning.
They were running. Hand in hand, feet pounding against unfamiliar ground, breath tearing from her chest as shouts rang out behind them.
“Hey! You! Stop!” Gunfire cracked the air, sharp and terrifying.
They’d been on the planet for five minutes. Five. Barely enough time to marvel at the sky, violet and gold, someone had started yelling about trespassing on government property and opening fire like introductions were optional.
“RUN!” The Doctor shouted, already dragging her forward, finger interlocked.
She didn’t argue. Didn’t hesitate. She trusted him instinctively, legs burning as they sprinted toward the blue box, heart hammering loud enough she was sure the shooters could hear it.
The doors slammed open, they burst inside, and she spun immediately, throwing her back against the doors as they banged shut behind them. The echo of shouted orders and gunfire cut off abruptly, replaced by the familiar hum of the Tardis, steady, alive, reassuring.
“Oh my god,” she gasped, palms flat against the wood, chest heaving. “Oh my god.”
The Doctor didn’t stop moving, leaping for the console, hands flying over switches and levers with practiced precision, coat flaring as the engines began to roar. “Sorry about that!” he called over his shoulder. “Bit trigger-happy down there. Some planets really don’t like visitors.”
The ship shuddered violently.
She slid down the doors slightly, knees weak, adrenaline still screaming through her veins. “You said-” she sucked in a breath, half laughing, half panicked, “you said we’d walk around.”
“We did!” he protested, throwing a lever. “Briefly! Very scenic! Then we ran!”
The Tardis lurched, the familiar wheezing woosh rising as space itself twisted away from them.She laughed then, hands shaking as she pushed herself upright again.
“Is it always like this?”
He glanced back at her, eyes alight, grin sharp and exhilarated. “Only half the time.”
The engines settled, the danger left behind somewhere else entirely. She let out a long, shaky breath, adrenaline finally ebbing. The Tardis finally settled into a smooth, drifting hum. Just the steady, living heartbeat of the ship as it carried them somewhere bullets couldn’t reach.
The Doctor slowed, hands resting on the console as the last lever clicked into place. He turned to her then, rubbing the back of his neck, a touch embarrassed despite himself.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “First trips tend to involve a bit of running. Occupational hazard.” He hesitated, nerves flickering behind the grin. “You alright? We can go home if you want. No pressure. Being shot at in the first five minutes isn’t exactly-”
He didn’t finish the sentence because she was laughing. Not a polite chuckle, or even nervous laughter. Full-on, belly-aching laughter that bent her forward as she approached the console, one hand braced against it for balance.
He blinked. Then smiled.
“…What?” he asked, genuinely curious.
She wiped at her eyes, still grinning as she straightened. “I just realized something,” she said. “I finally get why you always push the doors.”
He frowned. “You do?”
“Yeah,” she said, gesturing back toward where they’d just fled. “If you’ve made a habit of running back here for your life, pulling would slow you down, pushing’s faster, makes sense.”
He stared at her for half a second. Then he laughed, bright and delighted, pointing at her like she’d just solved a riddle the universe itself hadn’t bothered explaining.
“Finally, someone gets it.” He straightened, confidence back in full force now. “Alright then. Round two?”
She nodded immediately. “Round two.”
He didn’t even wait for her to say anything else, hands already moving, dancing across the controls as the Tardis responded eagerly. She watched him work, smiling, the fear already fading into exhilaration.
“Hold on,” he said cheerfully, throwing the final lever. “Again.”
The Tardis did her thing. The engines rose and fell in a familiar, rhythmic wheeze, the floor tilting just enough to make her grab the edge of the console on instinct. The Doctor steadied himself easily, one hand braced, the other still dancing across controls like this was second nature. There was a brief patch of turbulence. Nothing violent, just enough to make the lights flicker and the console hum louder, as if the ship were clearing her throat.
“Perfectly normal,” The Doctor said cheerfully over the noise. “Bit of traffic in the vortex.”
She laughed and held on anyway.
Then a wheeze and a thud.The sound was soft, almost gentle, like a careful landing rather than a crash. The engines quieted into a contented purr, the motion settling beneath their feet until the ship was still.
The Doctor straightened, listening, then grinned. “There we are.”
She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, heart still racing, excitement buzzing through her veins as she looked around.
“Where are we?” she asked.
He glanced at the readouts, eyes sparkling. “Somewhere new.” The Tardis hummed approvingly. “Right, i’ll go first. Just in case.” The Doctor said briskly, already moving.
“In case of what,” she muttered, following him anyway, “more people trying to shoot us?”
He shot her a look over his shoulder. “You say that like it’s unlikely.”
She rolled her eyes, amused despite herself, and hovered just behind him as he cracked the doors open. They stepped out and immediately regretted it.
The alleyway was narrow and grimy, boxed in by towering sheets of corrugated metal on either side. The ground was uneven beneath their feet, layered with trash bags, broken crates, and things she didn’t want to identify. The air was thick and sour, the unmistakable stench of something that had died and been forgotten under a pile of rubbish.
Her eyes watered instantly.
“Oh. Oh wow,” she said, voice pinched. “That’s powerful.”
The Doctor groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh no. No, no, no. She did not.” He glanced back at the Tardis, parked squarely atop a mound of trash like she belonged there and muttered, “Honestly, you could’ve aimed for anywhere else. I gotta hosing you down later.”
She tried to smile, but the smell forced a frown onto her face anyway. She took a shallow breath through her mouth and immediately regretted that too. The sight of her expression made something in him falter.
The rebounded confidence he’d been riding deflated just a touch, shoulders dropping as he turned back to her. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “Not exactly scenic. Her standards can be questionable sometimes.”
He cast another pointed look at the Tardis. “Alleyways are not adventures.”
She shook her head quickly, waving the apology away. “Hey, no, it’s fine- really.” She gestured vaguely around them, eyes still watering. “Even Paris has its ugly parts. Doesn’t mean the whole trip’s ruined.”
He studied her for a moment, searching her face for disappointment and finding none. Just determination and the curiosity that interested him. A genuine effort to stay open to whatever came next.
Slowly, his smile returned, “Well,” he said, hands slipping into his coat pockets, “that’s a very healthy attitude toward interstellar tourism.”
She laughed, scrunching her nose again. “So, where are we? And how fast can we get out of this smell?”
“Not sure,” He glanced around the alley, eyes sharp now, trying to piece things together. “I’m usually very good at this. Can normally tell the year just by the smell.” He muttered.
She made a face. “You are not sniffing anything in here.”
“Oh, absolutely not,” he agreed quickly. “Some mysteries are better left unsolved.”
He tilted his head, listening, scanning, frowning in a way that was more intrigued than concerned. “I’ve got no clue.” He smiled faintly.
She blinked. “Is that bad?”
He shook his head, pleased. “No, just unusual. Bit of a puzzle. I like puzzles.” Then, without pausing to consider it, he slipped one hand out of his coat pocket and took hers.
“Come on,” he said lightly, already leading her toward the end of the alley. “Let’s see where we are.”
She went with him easily, fingers curling around his without hesitation. A small, curious thought drifted through her mind, does he do this with everyone? But it didn’t linger long enough to matter. She didn’t care either way. She liked it. Liked the quiet reassurance of it, the way it grounded her and pulled her forward.
The alley had been a vile, forgotten maze between buildings, metal walls pressed so close together it felt like the space itself had been abandoned. Then it finally spat them out and opened suddenly into light and motion.
A market.
Not loud exactly, but alive. A modest bustle flowed around them. People were bartering, voices overlapping, the clatter of machinery being repaired right on the street. The city looked like poverty colliding head-on with high technology, patched metal and neon wiring, scavenged parts repurposed into something functional and proud.
Stalls lined the walkways, selling recycled tech stacked in bins, mismatched clothing, strange tools, and more recycled tech. Food vendors worked over sizzling grills, the air thick with the scent of spiced meat and hot oil, undercut by the ever-present tang of motor grease. It wasn’t flowers and shampoo. But it was much better than the alley.
Her nose wrinkled, then relaxed, and she took a deeper breath. “That’s an improvement.”
The Doctor chuckled, still holding her hand as they slowed their pace. Around them, all manner of species passed by, tall, short, scaled, furred, glowing faintly, sporting extra limbs or eyes. None of them payed the slightest bit of attention to the human gawking openly at everything.
She turned in a slow circle, eyes wide, taking it all in. “They don’t even care we’re here.”
“Best kind of place,” The Doctor said fondly. “Means we’re not interesting enough to be dangerous.”
He smiled then, pleased as something clicked into place. “Ah. I know where we are.”
She looked at him eagerly. “You do?”
“Glaztra, a series of planets,” he explained as they began walking through the market together. “Started as a refuge. People displaced by wars, disasters, collapsing systems. They gathered here because nowhere else would take them.”
Her brows knit. “What war?”
He shook his head. “That’s the thing, there wasn’t one single war. Over millions of years, this place grew from one settlement on one planet into a civilization spanning six.”
She glanced up at the skyline, patched towers rising against an unfamiliar sky. “Six planets?”
“Mm-hmm,” he said. “Same government, shared culture. Blended traditions. Think… Pacific islands on Earth. Different islands, same people.”
She nodded slowly, absorbing it.
“Though, I'm not sure which of the six we’re on,” he added casually.
They passed a stall where someone was haggling over a piece of glowing circuitry, the vendor shouting cheerfully as another customer tried to barter in three different languages.
“You can hop between them pretty easily,” he went on. “Rent a ship for about the same price as a cab back on Earth. Pop over to another planet for lunch if you fancy it.”
She laughed, amazed. “That’s incredible.”
The Doctor slowed near a cluttered stall stacked high with coils, screens, and bits of tech that looked like they’d lived three different lives already. He waited a beat for the shopkeeper to finish arguing with another customer then a blur shot past them.
Something like a motorbike, low and loud, skimming far too close to the foot traffic. The Doctor reacted without thinking, hand tightening around hers as he pulled her in against his side, turning his body slightly to shield her from the rush of air and metal.
“Oi- watch it!” someone yelled after the bike.
She startled, then realized she was pressed fully against him, arm to arm, hip to hip, his hand firm and sure at her back. He didn’t linger on it. Didn’t make a thing of it at all. Just kept her there, safely out of the flow, like that was the most natural thing in the universe.
Her cheeks warmed anyway.
With her tucked against him, he leaned toward the stall. “Excuse me,” The Doctor said pleasantly. “Which of the six are we on?”
The shopkeeper squinted at them. “Glaztra-Four,” he said shortly. “Section Seven. Honestly- how do you not know that?”
The Doctor smiled as if he hadn’t heard the insult at all. “Brilliant. Thanks.”
He guided her away from the stall and back into the moving crowd before releasing her and taking her hand again, far too smoothly for her to pretend she hadn’t noticed. She took a breath, steadying herself, then glanced up at him.
“He spoke English,” she said slowly. “Really well.”
The Doctor chuckled. “Ah. No, he didn’t.”
She frowned. “He didn’t?”
“They’re not speaking English at all, ” he explained. “The Tardis translates everything, spoken and written. You hear what your brain’s most comfortable with, same for them. You sound like your speaking their language.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s incredible.”
“She is,” he agreed warmly. He opened his mouth again, then added, far too casually, “Though I’d have understood him anyway. I speak the language.”
She blinked. “You do.”
“All of them,” he said lightly. “Well, nearly all of them.”
She stopped walking and looked at him properly.
“Oh,” she said, grinning. “You’re absolutely showing off.”
He scoffed. “I am not.”
“You are,” she insisted, laughing.
He waved it off, but the faint pink tint creeping into his ears betrayed him. “Purely informational.”
“Mm-hmm,” she said. “And let me guess, you’re not jealous of the Tardis at all.”
“Jealous?” He straightened. “Of the Tardis? Please, she cheats.”
She laughed, delighted, and he smiled back, ears still pink, expression fond and unapologetically pleased that he’d managed to impress her at least a little. And as they merged back into the flow of the market together.
They drifted past more stalls, the crowd ebbing and flowing around them, and it didn’t take long for The Doctor to notice a pattern. Her gaze lingered just a second longer at food vendors than anywhere else. Grills, steam and the the sizzle of oil caught her eye. Not obvious, very subtle, but enough that he noticed.
He smiled to himself.
“Hungry?” he asked gently.
She hesitated, then shook her head. “Not really. Jackie’s cooking later. I don’t want to spoil my appetite, would be rude to not eat when we get back.”
He gave her a look. “You’re already being shot at on alien planets and worrying about manners.”
She laughed despite herself.
“Just a little something,” he said. “Quick bite to tide you over.”
She sighed, defeated, then nodded. “Alright. Something small.”
“Brilliant.”
He scanned the street once more, then abruptly veered toward what looked like a large, grimy computer terminal embedded into the side of a building, half public information hub, half something else. He stepped up to it like he knew exactly what he was doing. Before she could ask, he pulled out his sonic screwdriver and aimed it at the screen.
Blue light flared and the tool buzzed. The terminal whined in protest, and then a subtle panel slid open with a click. Coins clattered down into a shallow slot, spilling like a coin return on a vending machine. He casually scooped one up.
She stared at him. “Did you just rob an ATM?”
He looked at her, utterly unbothered, grin wide and unapologetic. “Borrowed.”
She crossed her arms. “You stole money from a public terminal.”
“Redistributed,” he corrected cheerfully.
She opened her mouth to argue but he took her hand again and tugged her back into the crowd before she could finish the thought.
“Come on,” he said lightly. “Let’s find something suitable for a human palate. And preferably something that won’t try to eat you back.”
She shook her head, laughing, letting herself be pulled along.
They were back inside the Tardis, the doors shut, the engines settling into that familiar, comforting hum, and they were laughing. It wasn’t even about something particularly funny. Just a moment from the market, a misunderstanding, a vendor who’d tried to upsell them something mildly alarming, the way the Doctor had talked his way out of it with sheer confidence and nonsense. On its own, it wouldn’t have been worth more than a breathy chuckle.
But together it felt lighter, happier. Like the kind of laughter that came after standing a little too close, looking into eachother eyes, and realizing you were both thinking the same thing.
She leaned against the railing, still smiling, watching him as he circled the console. The Doctor rambled on, hands moving animatedly as he explained something alien and complicated, trade routes, energy currents, social customs that involved at least three moons and a hat she was fairly sure no one should ever wear. She didn’t understand most of it, and she didn’t need to.
She watched the way he moved instead, the ease of him here, the way the Tardis seemed to respond to his presence, the spark in his eyes when he talked about the universe like it was an old friend that kept surprising him. She smiled without quite realizing she was doing it.
His ramble tapered off mid-thought, hands slowing on the controls as he glanced over at her, just to check. And his hearts promptly melted.
She was looking at him with that soft, unguarded smile again. The look in her eye felt almost intimate.
“What’re you thinking about?” The Doctor asked gently.
She sighed, the sound fond rather than tired, and pushed herself away from the railing. She stepped up to the console carefully, eyes flicking over the maze of controls as she chose a safe place to rest her hands, palms flat, fingers still, deliberate.
He noticed, her care, the respect. He didn’t comment. Just waited.
“I think,” she said slowly, “I owe Rose an apology.”
His brows knit in quiet surprise. “You do?”
She nodded. “I was so upset with her. About not visiting. Not calling. About getting caught up in everything.” Her gaze dropped to the console, lights reflecting softly in her eyes. “And I still think she hurt people. That matters. But…” She glanced up at him then, meeting his eyes. “I get it a little more now.”
He stayed silent, inviting her to keep going.
“I don’t want to go home yet,” she admitted. “I don’t want this to be over.”
The words landed softly, no drama, no expectation.
“I was just thinking about how strange it is,” she continued, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at her mouth. “That something can feel so right so quickly. And how much I’m going to miss it when it’s done.”
She looked around the Tardis, the hum, the light, the impossible space, then back to him.
“I’m going to miss this,” she said. “Very much.”
Her smile stayed gentle, but there was an ache behind it. Not regret, just the awareness that moments like this didn’t last forever.
The Doctor felt it then sharp and familiar and entirely unwelcome. That old, quiet dread that he knew all too well. Endings. The Doctor hated endings. He didn’t speak right away. Just watched her, hearts beating a little too fast, mind racing with things he didn’t yet have the courage to say.
Because for him, missing something usually meant it was already slipping away. And the idea of her missing this, missing him, before it had even ended…
The Doctor’s voice was softer when he spoke again, “You don’t have to go home,” The Doctor said. “You could come with us. Me and Rose. It doesn’t have to end yet.”
She looked at him then lifted a brow. “You saw how unhappy Rose was when you offered before,” she said plainly. “Don’t tell me you missed that.”
He stilled.
“I thought,” He hesitated, then let out a small breath. “I thought you hadn’t noticed.”
“I did,” she replied gently. “I just didn’t want to make it worse.”
She leaned against the console, arms folding loosely, “I’m used to it with Rose. I’ve seen it before.”
He frowned slightly. “Before?”
“With Mickey,” she said. “Before they were officially together. One of our coworkers showed interest in him, and Rose got… possessive. Same tight smile. Same forced enthusiasm.” She met his eyes. “That wasn’t happiness back there. That was her trying to swallow something she didn’t like.”
The Doctor absorbed that in silence.
“She fancies you,” she added quietly. “At least a little. I can tell.”
His mouth opened, then closed again.
“And I know,” she went on, voice steady but sad, “that if I came with you both, there’d be tension. Constantly. Between me and her. I don’t want that to be the thing that finally breaks our friendship.”
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly troubled. “I don’t- I’m not sure what Rose liking me has to do with you coming along.”
Then he stopped, eyes widening slightly as something occurred to him.
“Wait,” he said carefully. “Is that what you think? That you’d be a third wheel?”
She shrugged, just a little. “I didn’t want to be. For either of you.”
His answer came quickly, too quickly to be rehearsed, “No,” he said firmly. “No, that’s not it. And for the record-” He held her gaze, earnest and unmistakably sincere. “I don’t like Rose like that. Not that way.”
She searched his face, not exactly surprised.
“I was worried,” he admitted, quieter now, “that you thought I did. Or that you thought you’d be intruding on something.”
The Tardis hummed low and thoughtful around them.
She hesitated, then sighed “I had a feeling there was something,” she admitted. “Between you two. Or at least that it might be something. I couldn’t tell if it was mutual.”
He frowned slightly, still trying to follow.
“But it wouldn’t actually matter,” she went on, voice gentle but firm, “whether you fancied Rose or not. Because one of the fastest ways female friendships fall apart is when two girls end up circling the same guy. Even if they don’t mean to.”
The words settled. And then it clicked. Understanding hit him all at once.
“Oh,” The Doctor said softly.
He looked at her again, at the careful way she stood, the openness mixed with restraint, the courage it took to say all of that without accusation or expectation.
“You’re saying…” He trailed off, then finished quietly, “You fancy me too.”
She didn’t deny it, or blush dramatically, or rush to soften it into a joke, or backpeddle. She just met his eyes, steady and a little vulnerable, and gave a small, acknowledging nod.
“And if I came with you,” she continued, “whether we wanted it to happen or not, Rose and I would both end up competing for your attention. Consciously or not. I don’t want to be the reason we break.”
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, against his better judgment, he smiled. Not a smug smile nor a triumphant one. Just stunned and ridiculously pleased.
The mental image that flickered through his mind, Rose and her bickering over him, of all people, was awkward and absurd and somehow very human. And the fact that she’d just admitted she fancied him, plainly and bravely, without trying to claim him he couldn’t help it.
“You know,” he said lightly, though his hearts were racing, “I’ve faced universe-ending horrors with less emotional complexity than this.”
She huffed a quiet laugh despite herself. But beneath his humor was something sincere, something careful and bright. He was smiling because she’d trusted him with the truth. Because she’d chosen honesty over possession.
The Doctor went quiet for a moment. He stood there, smiling at her brave, vulnerable honesty, letting it settle in his chest. He didn’t mind this. Whatever this was.
He didn’t even mind the inevitable, awkward conversation with Rose, the one where he’d have to be kind and clear and honest about not feeling that way. He could handle that, he always handled the hard talks, eventually.
The old fear lingered, of course. It always did. The echoing certainty that he would outlive anyone he let himself care about. That endings were baked into the deal. But right now it felt far away.
For a fleeting, dizzying moment, he felt like he was barely a hundred years old again, standing under Gallifrey’s burnt-orange skies, discovering what it meant to like someone and realizing, with astonishment, that they liked him back. Giddy and warm playground crushes. And he wasn’t ready for this to end either.
He wanted to see where it went.
Decision made, he straightened, spun back to the console, and flipped a few switches with renewed purpose. Buttons clicked. Coordinates locked in. The Tardis responded with a pleased, anticipatory hum.
“So,” The Doctor said casually, like he hadn’t just emotionally pivoted his entire existence, “how do you feel about Shakespeare?”
She blinked. “I- what?” The abrupt change gave her mental whiplash, but she recovered quickly. “I love him. Why?”
His grin turned positively mischievous. “Excellent.”
He gestured down one of the coral-lit corridors branching off from the console room. “Down there. Third left. You’ll find a wardrobe, look for the section labeled the early 1600s. Pick something comfortable.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “You’re joking.”
“I never joke about Shakespeare,” he said solemnly. Then ruined it with a grin. “Well . . . rarely.”
She shook her head, still smiling, and followed his directions, disappearing down the hall toward what he’d called a wardrobe with the skepticism of someone who had learned, very quickly, not to underestimate him.
He watched her go, hearts light, hands resting on the console.
While she was gone, footsteps fading down the corridor, the Doctor stood alone at the console and let himself feel it. Which was new. He rested his hands on the familiar controls, grounding himself, and considered how utterly whipped he already was.
It made no sense.
He’d known her- what? Days? Barely longer than that. A handful of conversations. One argument he wasn’t ven rally involved in. One laugh-filled sprint for their lives. And yet the way he felt around her was unmistakable, like his senses were tuned half a notch higher whenever she was near.
That wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to him.
The Doctor had lived centuries on centuries. He’d lost planets, families, entire eras. He’d loved before, deeply and disastrously, and learned the hard way what it cost to let himself want. He didn’t do quick. He didn’t do impulse. He certainly didn’t do crushes like some teenager discovering hormones for the first time.
And yet here he was. Completely blindsided.
It was out of left field in the most spectacular way. No slow burn he could pretend not to notice. No careful emotional distance. Just a sudden, undeniable pull. The way she looked at him when he talked. The way she listened and hung onto very word he said like each was more important than the last The way she challenged him without trying to control him, held people accountable without cruelty, chose honesty even when it cost her something she wanted just as badly as he did.
That bravery. That kindness. That laugh.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, half laughing at himself.
“Honestly,” he muttered to the console. “Pathetic.” The Tardis hummed, deeply unimpressed with that assessment. He ignored her.
He was still leaning against the console when he heard her footsteps return, lighter this time, almost buoyant. He looked up and forgot, briefly, how breathing worked.
She stood there beaming, clearly delighted with herself. The dress was simple by historical standards, a white linen base with soft, puffed sleeves; a front-laced corset in a rich, earthy green; a matching pleated skirt that brushed her ankles. Plain and practical, worn by average women of the era- peasants, laborers, people whose lives were work and survival.
But to her she looked like she’d stepped straight out of a Renaissance fair dream. She felt pretty, and that confidence radiated off her in a way no elaborate gown ever could. The way she held herself, her chin lifted, smile bright, eyes sparkling, made her glow.
The Doctor stared, openly and unapologetically.
“…Oh,” Was all he said. It came out softer than he’d meant to.
She glanced down at herself, suddenly shy despite the excitement. “Is it alright? It said common wear, so I figured-”
“Perfect,” he interrupted immediately. “Absolutely perfect.”
She looked back up at him, startled, then smiled even wider.
“You look like you belong there,” he added, warmth threading his voice. “Like you’ve always been.”
That made her laugh, a pleased little sound, and she did a small, delighted turn just to feel the skirt move. Watching her enjoy it, watching her feel beautiful, did something deep and dangerous to him.
The way confidence transformed her, the way joy sat so naturally on her shoulders. He’d seen queens in jeweled crowns look less radiant than she did right now in linen and green wool.
Standing there, hearts thudding far too fast, the Doctor thought- this is going to be a problem. A wonderful, exhilarating, absolutely inevitable problem.
He straightened, grinning like a man with a secret. “Ready, then?”
She nodded eagerly, then paused, stepping closer. “Wait. What are you actually planning?” She eyed his suit, amused. “And are you going to change, or are you just… wearing that?”
He just smiled and shrugged. “I don’t mind standing out. Besides-” his eyes softened as they flicked back to her dress, to the way she wore it so naturally, “I wanted you to have the full experience.” Before she could press him further, he turned back to the console, hands already moving as he readied the ship.
“Right,” he said casually, like he wasn’t about to upend her entire sense of time. “Whitehall. First of November. 1611.”
She blinked. “Okay…?”
He glanced over his shoulder, eyes bright. “First performance of The Tempest.”
Her eyes bulged. “You’re joking.”
He grinned, unrepentant. “I never joke about Shakespeare.”
She let out a sound that was half laugh, half gasp, and did that little excited hop he’d already noticed was a habit of hers, hands curling into her skirts as she beamed at him like he’d just handed her the universe.
“You’re serious,” she breathed.
“Deadly.”
She laughed again, giddy. “That’s- oh my god.”
Then something else clicked. Her smile softened, curiosity threading through the excitement. “Wait. If that’s where we’re going, why aren’t we heading home first?”
He hesitated just long enough for the truth to decide to come out.
“I didn’t want it to end yet,” he admitted, quietly honest.
Her cheeks warmed instantly, color blooming as she looked at him. The implication hung there between them, fragile and thrilling, the pull she felt wasn’t one-sided at all.
His grin gentled, less secret now, more sincere.
“So,” he said lightly, throwing the final lever, “fancy seeing history made?”
The Tardis roared to life as time folded around them, as the ship carried them toward Shakespeare and candlelight and a night that would echo for centuries, neither of them could quite stop smiling.
Some endings could wait. Tonight, they were going to the theatre.
About: The Doctor isn’t one that allows his body to control himself. However when you walk into the control room, dressed in the most beautiful cocktail dress for a party the two of you will be attending, he can’t help but want nothing more than to fuck you.
Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, lust, horny tenth doctor, horny reader, reader in a cocktail dress, fingering, praise, consent is sexy, p in v, cream pies, etc.
Word Count: 3.4k
A/N: Border is made by @/cafekitsune. If you like, please reblog and comment! If you don’t like, don’t interact! Not proof-read in any way, shape, or form.
Traveling with The Doctor was always about saving others, running away, and looking for new ways to have an adventure. It was a life you thoroughly enjoyed as it brought meaning to a life you once considered so dull. The Doctor had taught you to live and you had taught him to slow down.
Which is why, for the first time in quite some time, The Doctor had decided to take you to a party on Earth in the 75th century. A time where all fashion, from any century, was welcome. And all species were welcome as well. A place to wind down, have a few drinks, dance, and just unwind. And after a few tantalizing adventures, it was certainly necessary.
You were stood in the TARDIS wardrobe, looking at the different dresses and gowns to wear. You wanted something shocking, something to make The Doctor look at you in amazement.
The two of you, for quite some time, have had a bit of something going on. A tension that wasn't bad by any means but something underlying that you weren't entirely sure of. It had started on a planet that was known for its exotic flowers. You saved the citizens from a pesticide that was killing its plants and as a thank you, a local had given you a flower that signified pleasure. They had said "You two ought to use this if you wish to mate," before walking away.
It had left the two of you confused with a small awkward energy lying between you two. But ultimately, The Doctor had taken the flower away from you as he didn't know how a human would react to such a plant. Turns out, it wouldn't have effected you in any way, shape, or form after further investigation but he didn't know that in the moment.
After glancing around the wardrobe, you found the perfect dress for the party. You grinned to yourself as you got yourself dressed for the wonderful night ahead of you. You were certain it would make The Doctor's eyes pop out of their sockets.
And you were right of course.
You walked out into the control room where The Doctor stood at the console, still dressed in his pinstripes and converse but without the Janis Joplin jacket, fiddling with his screwdriver. He looked up upon hearing what he assumed were your high heels hitting the grates below you. And his jaw practically fell to the floor the moment he looked at you.
There you were, dressed in a gorgeous red cocktail dress that hugged your body beautifully. The dress as a slit to it, showing off your thigh. And paired with the dress, were a sexy pair of black stilettos. The Doctor was mesmerized by your beauty.
A few minutes go by before you try to catch The Doctor's attention. He hadn't said anything during this time and part of you began to feel insecure. "Doctor?" You finally broke the silence as you raised an eyebrow.
He responded back with a hum before realizing he had been staring at you for more than a reasonable amount of time. He snapped himself out of the trance he was in and inhaled sharply and then he cleared his throat. "You-uh-" He tugged on his right ear. "You look beautiful," He said sheepishly, licking his lips as he averted his gaze.
It wasn't often that The Doctor was rendered speechless. The fact of the matter was that he always had something to say. But today, seeing you in such a way, lit a fire underneath him that had already begun burning the day he met you. He wanted to do nothing more than to bend you over and take you right then and there. It was so ape-like and not at all like a Time Lord. But he supposed that this regeneration was much more human than he cared to really admit.
His cock had hardened in his trousers the moment as he looked at you and it was likely obvious at this point.
"Do you really think so?" You asked shyly, biting your bottom lip. You couldn't help but glance down, noticing the hard-on that The Doctor was sporting.
"Yes," The Doctor's voice cracked. He swallowed and cleared his throat once more. He tried to appear as normal as possible but it was hard when you were looking at him.
You took a step closer to The Doctor, looking at him with a new determination. "Looks like someone's got…a problem," you said lowly, your voice taking on a more sultry tone. You couldn't deny the way The Doctor's obvious erection had made you feel. Your dress had caused the exact reaction you intended it to.
The Doctor didn't think, couldn't think, as he grabbed stepped directly in front of you. He looked at you, eyes full of want and need, as he half-debated in his mind on what he shall do. And without so much of a word to you, he placed his hands on your hips, pulling you close to him.
The two of you stared at each other wordlessly, taking in your emotions with nothing more than a gaze. The Doctor's beautiful brown eyes were so young and yet so old. They conveyed such emotion that you couldn't even begin to dissect the meaning of each and every feeling. And yet, you knew he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. That much was certainly true.
You weren't entirely sure who moved first. Maybe it was you, maybe it was him. But lips crashed against each other, teeth grazing one another, in a hungry and desperate kiss. Your hands snaked around The Doctor's neck, intertwining your fingers in the nape of his hair.
The kiss deepened into something less desperate and more passionate as the two of you found a rhythm in your movements together. He licked the bottom of your lip, slightly nipping it with his teeth. And you parted your lips, granting him access to explore your mouth with his tongue.
You made a soft noise that wasn't quite a moan, causing The Doctor's grip on you to tighten. His hands remained on your hips as he held you close to him, restraining himself from exploring your body.
After what felt like awhile, you pulled away from the kiss breathlessly. The Doctor wasn't as breathless, due to his superior biology of course, but was certainly just as wrecked as you. The Doctor licked his lips before speaking. "If you want to back out, tell me now because I'm not sure how much longer I can control myself," He murmured, his voice holding a huskiness to it that you hadn't heard before.
You let out a shaky breath as his words went straight to your core. You knew that you were quite turned on and you have been wanting this for quite awhile. The Doctor shouldn't restrain himself any longer, not when it's clear that you both have been wanting each other for quite some time. "I want this," you whispered, looking into The Doctor's brown eyes. "I want you, need you, Doctor."
And that was all it took before he was kissing you once more, his lips moving against yours with a heat to it that you hadn't really felt before. The kiss was less gentle and more forceful, causing a noise to slip from the back of your throat. The Doctor didn't bother waiting much longer as he began hiking your dress upward. His fingers traveled to where the waistband of your underwear would be but rather than being met with fabric, he was met with skin.
He pulled away from the kiss, leaning your forehead against his. "You dirty girl," He whispered, his dark eyes looking into yours.
His words sent a shiver down your spine, straight to your cunt. You licked your lips before responding. "The dress looks better without panty lines," You breathed out.
The Doctor hummed in response. "Can I touch you?" He asked, his breath hot against your face.
You nodded your head in response, not trusting to use your voice in that moment.
The Doctor, on the other hand, didn't care much for a nod of your head. His other hand moved to your chin as he grabbed it gently. "Use your words," he commanded, his voice both soft and demanding at the same time.
You were unable to help the small whimper that left your lips as The Doctor took control. "Y-yes," you croaked softly, your mouth going dry from the lust.
The Doctor gave you a small smirk. "That's my girl," he said. His other hand began trailing to your thigh, his fingers dancing on your skin until he reached the destination he wanted. His middle finger trailed the slit of your cunt, eliciting a gasp from your lips. "You're already so wet," he murmured.
"Thought about this for awhile," you replied breathlessly.
The Doctor only responded with a smirk as he continued trailing his finger along your slit back and forth, spreading your wetness around, before stopping on your clit. He began forming small circles with the nub, making you moan prettily. He added his pointer finger, using both fingers to move in figure eights on your clit. "Doctor," You half-whispered, half-moaned as your hand clung to his shoulder. His other arm moved to your waist, holding you up, which was good as you felt almost weak in your knees.
His fingers dipped from your clit to your hole, teasing the skin around it. You let out a small gasp, looking at The Doctor with an expression of pleasure. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, dipping his head to kiss your neck. His lips grazed the sensitive spot on your neck as his middle finger eased inside of you.
Your eyes fluttered shut as you moaned gently. You gripped onto The Doctor tighter than before. He began thrusting his finger in and out of you slowly, getting you used to the feeling. After a few moments, he added a second finger, stretching you out just a bit. It had been a bit long since you've done anything, traveling with The Doctor and all.
The Doctor pulled away from your neck to look at you, a smirk gracing his lips. "Look at you," he practically purred. He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting your g-spot straight on. The action caused you to gasp and let out a choked moan.
"Doctor!" You whined as he picked up the pace. That familiar heat began to form inside of you. Your moans got louder.
"Are you close, darling?" He asked breathlessly. You couldn't form the words, simply too overcome with pleasure that The Doctor was giving you. You whimpered and nodded your head, opening your eyes to look at him. "Go ahead and cum for me, hmm?"
The way The Doctor was looking at you, with a heat in his eyes that past you wouldn't be able to fathom, was almost more than enough to send you over the edge. He held a softness in his tone mixed with desire that left you weak in the knees. And don't even get you started on his fingers. His fingers worked you like he'd done this many times to you.
"Doctor," You whined again, maintaining eye contact with the Time Lord before you. The speed in which he was moving his fingers was heavenly as he hit your sweet spot with each thrust. It wasn't long before that heat inside of you began to spill over. With a loud moan, your walls clenched around The Doctor's fingers as your legs trembled, your body tightening as you came.
The Doctor couldn't help the grin on his face as he watched you fall apart on his fingers. You were whining and moaning, pliant from his hand, and he made sure to pleasure you through your orgasm. When you finished, your body relaxed and The Doctor removed his fingers from your cunt.
"Of all the creatures I've seen, you are the most exquisite," The Doctor murmured, looking down at your juices that coated his fingers. He couldn't help thinking about what it would be like to bring you to orgasm from simply his tongue, to feel you writhing beneath his touch in such a way. But that was an adventure for another time, he supposed, if there will be another time.
You breathed heavily, looking at The Doctor with a satisfied gaze, seeing the way he was looking at his fingers. You weren't too surprised, to say the least. The man always had the idea to lick whatever substance graced his digits. His oral fixation always proceeded him.
The Doctor, ignoring his want (more like need) to taste you, looked at you. He licked his lips and cleared his throat. "Are you alright to continue?" He asked, his voice heavy with arousal.
"Yes, please," You responded softly, biting your bottom lip.
And that was all The Doctor needed before he was smirking. "Bend over the console," He commanded.
You grinned, obeying The Doctor as you went over to the console and bent over. You couldn't see what The Doctor was doing but the sound of fabric being undone certainly gave you an idea on what he was about to do.
The Doctor unzipped his trousers and pulled them down along with his pants just to his thigh. He was far too hard and turned on to care about undressing completely. The way you fell apart on his fingers? He wanted you to do that from his cock. God, he desperately wanted you to cum on his cock.
He made his way over to you as he looked at the way you were bent over for him. The Doctor has had many fantasies about a scenario quite similar to this. You bent over for him while he takes you from behind. The amount of times he had to stop himself from jerking off at the thought of you was much more than he truly cared to admit. And now? His fantasies were about to become reality.
He licked his lips as he brought his hands to your butt. Your dress was still ridden up, thankfully, exposing your skin to the coolness of the ship. He couldn't help but give a playful smack, causing you to gasp from the impact. "Sorry," he cleared his throat. "You are quite perfect."
You let out a breathless chuckle. "You can apologize by getting a move on, Doctor," you replied, turning your head to try and glance at The Doctor.
He gave you a cheeky grin. "As you please, my dear," He said. Without any further distractions, The Doctor gripped himself and brought his cock to your cunt. He slid the tip along your slit, spreading around your wetness. The action caused you both to moan softly.
As he teasingly rubbed his cock against your pussy, you whined in frustration, just wanting him inside of you. "Doctor," you whined, "please."
The Doctor couldn't help the chuckle that left him. He didn't say anything as he lined himself up against your hole. The tip of his cock pushed into your entrance as he eased himself inside of you. A low groan left his lips as your cunt wrapped around his length so beautifully.
You gasped and moaned as you gripped the console with your hands. You were surprised to feel no pain, especially because you could feel that The Doctor was certainly big. But that surprise subsided when The Doctor bottomed out, pressing himself deeply inside of you.
"You're so tight," he breathed out, closing his eyes as he relished in the feelings of your cunt. It had been quite some time since The Doctor had any sort of sexual relations. And the fact that his first time in a long time is with you certainly made it better. Though had he not allowed his body to control his action, he would've much preferred a more romantic setting for his first time with you.
"Doctor," you said breathlessly. "Y-you can move."
"With pleasure," he responded before pulling his hips back, his cock moving almost all of the way out before he slammed his hips forward.
You let out a loud moan at the feeling, grateful that you were finally being fucked by the man that introduced you to new experiences, new planets, and new life. He showed you a new way to live. You adored the pinstriped man with all of your being. And you were sure that he knew, at least now he did.
The Doctor kept up with a slow pace, dragging himself out of your cunt before slamming himself back into it. Soon, the pace quickened as he fell into a rhythm with his thrusts. "You're so amazing," He praised, his voice rough from lust. "So beautiful, so kind, so brilliant," he continued, small pants leaving his lips. "Oh how much of a lucky man I am to be able to experience you."
His words made your heart swell in adoration for him and your cunt tighten around his cock. "Oh fuck," you moaned, closing your eyes in pleasure. Your knuckles were white from gripping the console tightly. You began moving your hips in sync with The Doctor's, meeting his thrusts with your own movements.
"Fuck," he cursed, gripping your hips tightly. He moved one hand down slightly, massaging the flesh of your ass once more. His movements quicklened again, his thrusts becoming more desperate than controlled.
"Doctor!" You mewled, throwing your head back in pleasure as he took you from behind. You hadn't expected to ever have The Doctor in such a state. An alien, so usually careful and controlled in regards to his feelings and how he reacts to others, was becoming nothing more than a desperate man who fucked you like he needed you to breathe. And you loved it.
"Is it good, sweetheart?" He grunted, moving the hand from your ass to your clit, rubbing circles on the nub.
The action elicited a louder moan from you as you felt that oh-so-familiar heat growing inside of you once more. "So good, Doctor," you whined. "Love it so much!"
The Doctor continued his desperate movements and rubbing your clit. He knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer. "Go ahead and cum for me, sweetheart," He groaned out. "Want to feel you cum on my cock, yeah?"
The vulgar words leaving his mouth mixed with the pleasure of him fucking you and rubbing your clit was enough to send you over the edge. You made a pornographic sound, followed by the moan of his name once more, as your legs began to shake and cunt clenching around The Doctor's cock.
"That's it," he moaned, feeling the way you were clenching around him so tightly. "Fuck, darling," he said as he continued his minstrations. And with a few more thrusts, The Doctor was pressing himself as far as he could inside of you as he came with a loud mantra of your name.
When you were both finished, he pulled out. Heavy breathing filled the console room as you both caught your breaths. You stood up normally and turned to look at The Doctor.
He looked just as fucked as you were. His cheeks were red with his hair sticking to his forehead in a small sweat. He still had his suit jacket on with his shirt underneath it, trousers and pants at his ankles still. And his cock? Certainly human-looking. Though, The Doctor did mention once that humans derived from Time Lords. So perhaps it wasn't so surprising that he'd look human.
You both stared at one another, catching your breaths. And after a few minutes of silence, you finally spoke up. "So," you began. "I suppose we aren't going to that party, huh?" You asked, unable to help the smirk on your lips as you looked at The Doctor.
"I'm afraid not," he responded, grinning at you.
And he was right. Because instead of making it to that 75th century party, the two of you spent the rest of the night in the TARDIS, basking in all of the ways that the Time Lord could pleasure you.
Any Male Character x GN!Reader - Female character version here!
Summary: You wake up early to make hot chocolate and he loves it.
Warnings: a lil suggestive? cute cuddly morning, fluff
Word Count: 1k
A/n: I'm so excited to be starting my Christmas challenge! Requests are still open so check out my master list linked at the end of the fic! There are no descriptions of the reader, possibly implied that they are shorter but could be a similar height, just not like a foot taller or anything. The image in the header is just for the vibes, no description.
You stood in front of the stove, stirring a whisk through a pot as you felt two arms snake around your middle. You felt the warmth of his chest against your back and hummed softly, leaning into his touch.
"Good morning" You mumbled out, sleep still clinging to your voice.
He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in before replying with a soft "Morning", his lips grazing your skin.
His eyes stayed shut as he sniffed, smelling something sweet and maybe, chocolatey?
"Mm, smells good" He lifted his face so only his chin was resting on your shoulder "What's cookin' good lookin'?"
You couldn't see it but you could feel the sleepy smirk gracing his lips, making you smile at the thought.
"Hot chocolate, thought it might be nice on a chilly day like this"
"You're perfect, y'know that?"
"It's just hot chocolate"
"Not just that, everything"
"Everything huh?"
"Everything"
"So one might say, every little thing I do is magic?"
"Aaaand you ruined it"
You laughed, flicking the stove off and turning around in his grasp "Well, can I try and make it up to you?"
He grinned, leaning closer so his lips grazed yours as he spoke "You can try"
You closed the distance, pressing your lips to his softly. There was no rush for once, your busy lives stilled, it might not have been for long but it was long enough for you to enjoy a rainy day and a cool morning with nothing but each other. And hot chocolate.
"Mmm" He pulled back, licking his lips "Cinnamon?"
"A magician never reveals a secret"
"Nutmeg?"
"Magician. Secret"
"Oooh, I know"
"I bet you don't"
"I bet I do"
"Yeah Gordon Ramsey? What's my secret to culinary excellence?"
He rolled his eyes before leaning in, lips brushing your ear, breath hot against your skin.
"Love"
"Love?"
"Love"
"Not exactly an ingredient, but sure"
He smiled, dipped down and captured your lips in a kiss. The moment grew heated, your arms looping around his neck and he walked you backwards until you hit the bench. You pulled back, hopping onto the bench and tugging him back in by the collar of his faded old pajama shirt. One of his hands rested on your hip, the other disappearing. After a moment, he pulled back, breathless and triumphant.
"What's with that look?" You panted.
"This?" He pointed to his face "Oh, nothing. I just discovered your secret ingredient"
"Oh yeah? Go on, I'll give you three guesses" You grinned smugly.
"Hmm" He pretended to think "Vanilla?"
"Nope"
"Salt?"
"Nope"
"Well I just don't know, is it maybe…." He whipped his hand out, revealing a small bottle "A dab of hot sauce?"
You gasped, playfully snatching the bottle from his hand with a pout.
"That's cheating!"
"No. It's called being resourceful"
"Oh, resourceful? How about you try and be resourceful and find yourself your own hot chocolate?"
"You wouldn't do that to me"
"Oh, wouldn't I?"
"You, you're a- a-"
"A what?"
"A- an evil elf!"
"Evil? Oh yeah, that'll earn you a hot chocolate"
"So now I have to earn it?"
"Well I'm not just giving it away"
"You're not?" He fake pouted, puppy eyes at the ready.
"Well, maybe for a very special customer"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah" You checked the time "I'd better go out and find him before it gets too late"
You slid off the counter, slipping just by him before he grabbed your wrist, yanking you back against his chest.
"You" He paused for a kiss "Are" Another kiss "A" One more kiss "Menace"
"Feel like teaching me a lesson?"
"After" A kiss "The hot chocolate"
"Wow, you really want hot chocolate, don't you?"
"Hey, it's your fault for making it smell so delicious"
"You think it smells good? You should taste it"
"That's kinda what I've been trying to do"
"And here I thought you just liked me, shoulda known it was all for your own gain"
"My own gain? Sweetheart, I think you're getting something out of it"
"Maybe just a little bit of something" You grinned, slipping out of his hold and over to the stove "Here" You extended a mug "Taste away"
He took a sip, his face stern and emotionless.
"You didn't make this"
"Yes I did"
"No, nu uh, This is amazing-"
"Thank you"
"Last time you made toast I couldn't see through the smoke"
"Well that was a long time ago, I've learned since then"
"It was last Tuesday"
"And look, it's Monday already, so much time has passed"
"You learned to make this in the past couple of days, without setting a fire?"
"Yuppers"
"How?"
"Magic"
"Magic?"
"Magic……and a few gallons of milk at 3am"
"3am?!"
"I didn't want you to find out. It was a surprise"
"It surprises me that you didn't set me on fire while I slept"
"I'm not that bad"
"Do I have to remind you of when you tried to make eyeball cupcakes for Halloween?"
"Relax. The fire department got here in time"
He opened and closed his mouth, stopping to wrap his arms around you and place a gentle kiss to your forehead.
"I love you"
"I love you too" Your arms wound around him, your head resting on his shoulder as you let out a sleepy yawn.
"3am, huh?"
"Mhm. Worth it though"
"Yes, it's very tasty hot chocolate"
"Not that"
"Then what? You've been up for hours making it"
"Your face"
"My face is always here"
"I know that smartass" You paused, yawning again, eyes growing heavy "I mean, your face lit up. It was small, but I still loved it"
"My face always lights up around you, magic hot chocolate or not"
Your lips quirked up weakly against the old cotton, your grip tightening just a little.
"Baby" He started, a hand running up and down your back "Do you want to go back to bed"
"God yes"
He laughed lightly, guiding you back to your room, but not before checking that the stove was off. The fire department only just got there in time, he didn't want a repeat.
Dennis and Trinity getting into a stupid fight. Really its about nothing but Dennis has been tired and on edge and Trin has been fighting with Garcia and it just comes to blow.
Trinity snapping that she cant believe she still has Dennis living with her and Dennis, with his general feeling of being unwanted, just takes it seriously and bags his little duffel bag and heads out while Trinity is sulking in her room.
Dennis not sure where to go, walking around a bit as he diesnt have money to go to a hotel or anything and he doesnt want to sleep outside... again.
He goes to the hospital to try and find his old empty abandoned room? But runs into Jack who is on nightshift and takes one look at that sad looking puppy- eyed student doctor and realises something is wrong.
Jack is very direct and has this way of making Dennis admits he isn't doing good and Dennis blurts everything out about the fight before faltering almost admitting to wanting to sleep in the hospital... Jack sighing and calling Robby to say he is sending a lost mouse to him lol.
Robby letting Dennis sleep in their spare room and gently soothing him a bit as he can tell Dennis is genuinely upset fighting with Trinity. Robby manages to get Dennis to sleep eventually and leaves quietly in the morning to go to work (Dennis and Trinity are off), kiss Jack in greeting and then have Jack go home lol.
Trinity arriving at the hospital an hour or so later looking frantic and like she cried and she is trying to run to the 8th floor immediately but Robby intercepts her. Trinity blabbering about the dumb fight and how Dennis isnt answering his phone and she is scared he did something stupid like sleep on the street... Robby soothing her telling her Dennis is at his house dead asleep and he was feeling just as awful about it.
Robby sending Trinity to their house too and having Jack wake Dennis up in the meantime and Jack pretends to be gruff about it but he is a little soft seeing Trinity and Dennis hug and apologise!
Jack texting Robby like "kids are good, i'll make them some food and put them in front of the TV for a bit" like he isnt talking about 2 25ish year olds lol
Trinity coming back home from a night out at like 6am, welcomed by the view of Dr.Abbot and Dr.Robby in her kitchen, both only in pajamas pants, retrieving snacks and water.
The three just stare at each other for a moment before Trinity just says "Well, hello." And immediately walks up to Dennis room.
Dennis’s laying in bed like a lazy cat in a too big shirt and shorts, half-awake, he grumbles about the light from the hallway being too harsh as Trin opens the door. He takes a minute to reopen his eyes and realizes that it’s Trin but when he does he only mumbles "Hey Trin, how was your night ?"
Trinity ignores his words completely, leaning in the doorway, "Huckleberry, I thought we agreed that 'The Bear, the Twunk and the Twink' was a porn filmed OUTSIDE of my apartment !"
Dennis throws her a pillow and bury his face in his own "I had to hear the 'toxic Lesbians' audio porn for months in this apartment, you’ll survive."
(I only made this post for "The Bear, the Twunk and the Twink", was stuck in my mind since last week.)
more on t-girl dennis who i may or may not name daphne...
imagining her starting her transition right around the time robby leaves for his sabbatical so that when he comes back, doctor whitaker is not the same person...
and of course she texted robby to warn him before he came back so it wouldn't be a surprise/disaster (trinity practically forced her to bc she kept saying "it's fine idc if he still thinks i'm a guy" while crying on the couch and trinity was like "girl be so fr rn TELL HIM")
and robby was like "oh yeah cool no prob" but he's well aware that he's kind of out of touch so he's terrified he's gonna screw it up and say the wrong thing
so they both come to work feeling very tense
but then they see each other for the first time
dennis (daphne?) grew her hair out a bit over the past few months, and she's wearing it in twin french braids (that trinity was really proud of doing) with cute curly little ends and a pastel pink headband to match the pink floral pattern on her pale yellow undershirt and the pink laces on her nonslip sneakers
and really she doesn't look all that different (she's only been on hormones for like a month at that point) but at the same time she's an entirely different person
a little happier... standing a little taller... not so pale and tired anymore...
it leaves robby speechless
well, not entirely
he stares at her for way too long, and then he bashfully mumbles, "wow... you're really pretty"
and her face turns as pink as her cute little headband and she tries to stutter and stammer out a thank you but she's way too flustered
luckily for her she gets whisked away for rounds and robby watches her walk away until he realizes he definitely just fell in love
You’ve just discovered PEAK. Maybe you’ve never heard of Dungeon Crawler Carl before seeing this fanart, or maybe you have and you’ve been sleeping on it. Either way, your world just got cooler. Pick up the book or throw on the audiobook and develop a new hyperfixation today. Reward: Upon finishing the first book, you will immediately receive the “must buy all the other books in the series” status effect.
Reminder, if you ever pay someone for a commission on Paypal (NSFW OR NOT) you SHUT THE FUCK UP in any text box it gives you.
(No this does not mean try to be a snarky comedian and say it was "bomb materials" or "fuck u" or whatever. Don't play with people's livelihoods, just shut the fuck up and don't type anything at all, it's not that hard.)
Warnings: Polyamory, Showering Together, Shower Sex, Age Gap, Threesome, Shameless Smut, Porn With Plot, Hand Jobs, Finger Sucking, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Unprotected Sex, Cuckolding, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Blow Jobs, Hair-pulling, Fucking, Belly Bulge, Enthusiastic Consent, Face-Fucking, Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Crying During Sex, Breeding Kink, Degradation, Objectification, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Aftercare, Domestic Fluff, Not Beta Read, Happy Ending
Word count: 2615
Shower sex with Beth and Rip.
What more can a girl want?
After the hell the three of you have been through tonight, it’s more than fair to say that a shower is in order.
Clothes are easily stripped away then tossed carelessly on the bedroom floor. Rip follows his wife into the shower. She twists the handle, causing warm water to spray out of the shower head above them. Their eyes fall to you while you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra before shimming out of it and letting it fall to the cool bathroom floor. You take the hand Beth extends towards you, allowing her to draw you into their orbit.
A warm shower is exactly what you need right now.
You close your eyes and tip your head back as you let the heavy droplets fall onto your hair and skin, feeling the tension of the day leave your body. You drag a wet hand down your face to cool it before opening your eyes to look at the other two people in the isolated space. To no surprise, Beth and Rip are making out, kissing all needy with lust and love. Her eyes find yours when Rip breaks away to kiss and nip at her throat. A sly smile pulls at her lips as she maintains eye contact with you while her hand drifts down to her husband’s hardening cock.
You feel yourself becoming wet from something other than the water streaming down on you.
You cross the distance between you as you’re hopelessly drawn to her once more like a sailor to a siren. Beth cups the side of your face, her thumb caressing your cheekbone. Your eyes fall shut as you melt into her touch. Her finger drifts down your face till it’s near your mouth. As if in a trance, you don’t think twice about taking her thumb into your mouth. She presses the pad of her finger against your tongue for a moment or two before thrusting her thumb at a slow, starting pace.
You moan without meaning to. The vibrations around Beth’s thumb sends a thrill down her spine, causing her nipples to harden to the point of pain. She bites her lower lip when you begin to suck on her thumb, your cheeks hollowing with each intake.
“Fuck. You’re taking me like a goddamn champ and we haven’t even gotten to the main event yet”
“Not even close” Rip adds, his voice breathy from the way his wife’s handling his cock. He steals a kiss from her before backing her against the wall where she positioned his tip at her waiting entrance. Their foreheads touch when he sinks into Beth’s warm, inviting cunt. “Lord have mercy”
“He isn’t anywhere close to us, baby. Not tonight”
Beth looks at you from the corners of her eyes.
“Let’s show our dove here exactly why that is”
A grin spreads across Rip’s face. “Yes, ma’am”
He lifts her up with ease, his large hands settling under her thighs as she wraps her legs around his waist. The glass surfaces of the shower steam up as you watch the couple in front of you fuck with animalistic tendency. Your breathing slows while your heart races with both excitement and want. You don’t take your eyes off them. You couldn’t even if you wanted to. You’re utterly captivated.
Your hand drifts between your thighs.
Beth snaps her fingers at you twice without Rip halting his thrusts. She doesn’t need to say anything for you to understand what she means.
You frown, but pull your hand away. The ‘Good girl’ look Beth gives you with her eyes is almost taunting. You clench your thighs together and try to ignore the pestering ache you feel between them.
You don’t know how much time passes before you decide to finally break their spell on you and turn away from them. You might as well shower for real instead of letting the water go to waste.
You bite your lip when you hear them cum at the same time. Beth lets out a moan that makes you weak in the knees while Rip grunts like a beast.
While washing your face, a pair of hands settle on your hips. Their owner’s lips find the side of your neck, soft, plump lips planting open-mouthed kisses on your skin. Beth turns your head to the side so that you’re face to face before she leans in and claims your lips in a kiss that is all tongue and teeth. It’s sloppy and hasty. You fucking love it.
When Beth pulls away, your pupils have dilated and your mouth is still open. She licks your lips in a slow wet stripe before backing you against the wall this time. To her surprise, you sink down to your knees. She stares down at you, the sight of you kneeling before her taking the air from her lungs.
“Please” You breathe out, your hands roaming up her legs with desperate need. “Let me taste you”
You don’t wait for a response. You know what it’s gonna be. What it always is. That’s why you’re already licking at the most sensitive part of her. You hook her leg on your shoulder before holding her and eating her out properly like a starving animal.
Once again, your voracity takes Beth by surprise. If it wasn’t for her husband coming to stand beside her and putting a steady hand on her back, she’s sure she would’ve lost her balance entirely.
Your eyes are sealed shut as your lips and tongue work in tandem to take every ounce of pleasure they can from Beth’s godsend cunt. While one of your hands grips the back of her thigh, the other reaches next to her for Rip’s cock. Your hand wraps around it, the tips of your fingers barely touching from his daunting girth. You feel him harden fully under the touch of your palm. You stroke him gently at first, taking in his intimidating length. He curses softly underneath his breath.
“Look at how eager she is to make us feel good, darling” Beth tells Rip as she leans her head on his shoulder. She moans when you curl your tongue inside of her. Her hand flies to your head, fingers tangling in your hair to steady herself. “She’s like something out of a goddamn amateur porno”
Beth almost loses her composure when she cums on your mouth. The loud moan that tears from her throat is almost as rewarding as getting to taste her essence on your tongue. She tastes like heaven itself. Your lips are glossy when you finally pull away from her after sucking on her clit one last time. You don’t give yourself time to recover before taking Rip’s cock into your mouth. Well, what you can of him. Beth’s fingers tighten in your hair, unsure of whether in warning or encouragement.
Rip has to force himself to breathe. Beth notices and smiles before kissing him, adding to his pleasurable torture. Her hand doesn’t leave your hair. On the contrary, she pushes your head forward so that you’re taking in more of her husband’s cock. Your throat convulses happily around the welcoming intrusion. You suppress the urge to gag when the tip of your nose touches Rip’s pelvis. You don’t remember him being this big.
You take a moment to adjust to him before bobbing your head up and down his cock. You feel Beth helping you along with the way she pushes and pulls your head. At some point her hand leaves your head as it’s replaced by Rip’s. He starts moving his hips while holding your head still.
You’re too lost in your own pleasure to make out the filthy words of encouragement Beth says to Rip. His balls slap against your chin at a steady rhythm. His hips stutter when he cums, streaks of white shooting down your throat. He grunts while holding your head and milking every last drop into your mouth. Rip’s cock slips from your mouth when he pulls away. Beth reaches for your cheeks and squeezes them with one hand.
You tilt your face up as you open your mouth for her to see. An impressed smirk graces her features when she finds your mouth empty. She helps you to your feet before kissing you passionately. She backs away with you in her arms till her back is pressed firmly against the shower wall. Her hands roam over your back while she deepens the kiss.
Rip guides your hair away from your neck before leaning down to kiss the side of your throat. He positions himself at your entrance, the blunt head of his cock nestled between your folds.
You moan into his wife’s mouth when he drives into you without warning. He buries himself to the hilt inside of you. Beth breaks the kiss. She looks down at your body, her hand drifting from your chest to your stomach then lower abdomen till she can feel the faint tip of her husband’s cock inside of you.
“Jesus. He’s deep, isn’t he?”
You nod, agreeing with her.
Beth guides your hair away from your face, her expression serious now. “Do you want us to stop?”
“No. I can take it”
Suddenly, she smiles. “Attagirl”
You notice her looking at Rip behind you. The look in her eyes says something that her mouth doesn’t. You meet her gaze. “What is it?”
You can tell that Beth was trying to figure out a way to say what she wanted to say by using the right words. At some point she just gives up and comes out with it. “Have our baby, Y/N”
Your eyes widen, but not out of shock. No, they widen out of pure excitement. “Really?”
“Rip and I have been thinking about it for a while. For the first time in our lives, we finally have some real stability together. And now with you-“
You cut her off. “Yes”
Finally, Rip speaks again. “Yes, what?”
“I’ll do it. I’ll have your baby”
Beth is slightly taken aback by your eagerness. “Really? You’re agreeing just like that?”
“Beth, I’m dangerously in love with both of you. For me to help you start a family together.. The thought makes my stomach churn in the best way possible. So shut up and let Rip put a baby in me, please!”
Beth huffs a laugh. “As you wish, babygirl”
Rip puts his hand on the back of your neck. He doesn’t apply any real pressure, but the weight of it is there. You gasp when he starts moving his hips, his cock thrusting back and forth inside of you in a way that threatens to leave you speechless. When he picks up the pace, you start wondering if you’ll be able to walk properly tomorrow, if at all.
Beth’s arms slot around your waist. You brace one hand against the wall right next to her head while the other snaked its way between her legs. You don’t take your eyes off her as you push two fingers into her cunt. She moans softly at the intrusion, but holds your gaze. You start moving your fingers.
The sound of moans, ragged breathing and skin slapping against skin fills the bathroom.
“I love you so fucking much” You tell Beth just before another moan spills from your lips as Rip’s thrusts grow faster and harder, each of them sending your body forward with a jolt. Tears of unfiltered pleasure well up in your eyes.
Beth wipes them away with one hand while the other kneads your breast, her thumb circling your nipple. “You’re so pretty when you’re being bred like this, sweetheart. Just taking and taking daddy’s cock til he fills you with his cum. That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? To be our little breeding bitch?”
You moan at the way she degrades you.
The corners of Beth’s lips curl upwards in a smile that is almost all teeth. “Such a good, obedient girl. You’re too numb to deny what a cumslut you are”
Her breath hitches when you make her cum, her velvety walls clenching around your fingers. You pull them out of her. Before you have a chance to wipe them on your thigh, she grabs your wrist and brings your hand to her mouth. You blink twice when she takes your fingers into her mouth and starts licking them clean. That was the final push you needed. You let out a pathetic moan when you cum, your inner walls clenching around Rip’s cock.
“Fuck” He curses before climaxing right after you.
You can practically feel his balls being drained as he spills his little swimmers inside of you. You lose your balance and lean your forehead against Beth’s chest. She wraps her arms around your upper back and holds you close till her husband is done. After a minute, Rip finally pulls out of you. You wince a little bit at the loss of contact. It’s immediately forgotten when both Rip and Beth press a kiss to your head and praise you for all you did.
After you’ve come down from your highs, the three of you take a much-needed refreshing shower.
Beth and Rip’s hands are soft and gentle as they clean your body after washing themselves. She washes your hair while he cleans you gingerly with the loofah. When they’re done, you all step out and dry off before getting dressed for the night.
You put on one of Beth’s shirts that smells like her and Rip combined. The collar is a little big and the hem barely stops mid-thigh. You decide not to put on shorts tonight. Carter is at his girlfriend’s so the three of you have the house to yourselves.
After gulping down half a glacier freeze Gatorade, you hop into bed with Beth and Rip and settle between them under the covers.
Beth is lying on her side with her head propped up on her elbow. Her eyes are fixated on you and her husband. While you trace the scar around her left eye, her other hand settles on your stomach.
“Y/N?”
You hum in acknowledgment.
Her eyes roam over your face. “You know that we want you to raise this kid with us, right? We don’t just want you to be a human incubator for us because I can’t have kids of my own”
You reach down to squeeze the hand that’s on your stomach. You caress her wedding ring. “I know”
“Beth’s right” Rip says. “This partnership goes three ways now. It always did, but this here makes it official” His hand also settles on your stomach, right below where you’re holding Beth's own hand. “And I swear as god is my witness, we’ll never let anything bad happen to either of you”
“Not even over our dead bodies” Beth adds.
You smile up at them before pressing a chaste kiss to each of their lips. “In a few months when I’m all fat and hormonal, it’ll take a lot less than that to make me cry. So enjoy my dry eyes while I’m still being reasonable. Now, I love you two so much, but I’m all tuckered out so can we go to sleep?”
Beth and Rip share a glad and knowing look before turning off the nightlamps on their sides of the bed. They each drape an arm over your body. To no surprise, you fall asleep first, your soft snores filling the space between them. Beth follows soon after.
When Rip is certain that his family is safe and sound in his arms, he closes his eyes and drifts off.
Once they've fucked a few times (high-energy occasions, no time to talk, no time to waste words on negotiations and needs), Jack becomes slightly worried about his budding relationship with Dennis. He makes his military background no secret, and his partners are often inspired by this. They like to call him Sir; they like to have him bark orders at them; they like for him to dominate and conquer. Jack doesn't like this. He'll never admit it aloud, but he sometimes finds it triggering.
It's a pleasant surprise, then, when it comes time to talk about their boundaries and desires and Dennis shyly says, "I like it when you get a little tired and turn... gentle. Y'know." He leans his shoulder against Jack's, and Jack can see that he's blushing with his eyes are squeezed shut. "I want to... I want to call you Daddy. I-If it's alright with you."
Jack thinks about this. He's never been called that before. Not by anyone. He finds that he rather likes the thought, especially now he knows how the name sounds on Dennis' sweet lips. "Alright," he responds in his usual low tone. He realises that he sounds too gruff, too uncaring, and he makes effort to soften his voice, imbue his words with sincerely, as he adds, "I'd like that."
as much as I love puppy whitaker, mouse dennis is something so adorable and sweet. I know Robby would love to coo "there's my sweet little mouse" while he cradles his boy's cute face, petting his thumbs under those big blues. "precious little mouse" while he kisses over that sharp nose, those pinked lips. <3
