Rolling out the red carpet for the Hear the Music zine’s sticker sheet! Designed by the ever-talented @parallaks-art , of The History Between Us cover fame. The zine and all merch will be available to pre-order from 12pm BST April 1st.
Guys I can genuinely write a whole essay about why I think Peter Capaldi as the twelfth doctor is the best doctor ever, he’s also become one of my favorite characters ever, the way he acts as well as his story progression should be studied for years to come he’s just so peak to me 😭🙏🏽
hiii this is my first fic in about 4 years probably :) this is obviously a new account, so yeah that's why there's nothing else here. um anyways, i definitely got incredibly carried away with this, did not have an idea going into it (still think it ended up great), 12 is probably out of character, and i somehow wrote it in under 3 hours??
anyway, I hope it's enjoyable! and please let me know your thoughts :)
masterlist
12th Doctor x Reader
(really student/professor but can be romantic or platonic, whatever vibes you catch.)
Word Count: 2,600+
Summary: You have been hearing a drumming in your head. One, two, three, four. It's been affecting your mental state, and you haven't been to class in a while. Maybe your professor, The Doctor, is able to help figure this out?
Warnings: mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts. any gender reader, but makeup mentioned.
A drumming had been haunting you for months as you slept.
One, two, three, four.
One, two, three, four.
It would sound non-stop until you couldn't bear it any longer, and woke up. Every time you would wake up the same: in a cold sweat, panting, with tear streaks running down your face.
Each day the drumming's effect on you grew. It was affecting your mental state immensely. You felt a deep pain and sadness hanging over you like a cloud most days. You wouldn't be able to get out of bed, much less go to classes. You weren't hungry often, and couldn't eat when you were. You avoided your friends and your schoolwork, occasionally texting your parents to keep them from worrying.
You weren't sure if your professors noticed your absences. They hadn't reached out to you in any way. It's not like they'd notice you in the sea of students. They must see hundreds a day anyways.
It's not like anybody would notice you anyway. At least that's what the drumming would whisper to you.
One, two, three, four.
You keep to yourself. Don't have any close friends in your classes, and not many close friends at school in general. Nobody really knew who you were. Your favorite color. Childhood pets. How long it takes you to sleep. How often you're awoken by the drumming.
One, two, three, four.
Nobody would notice if you're gone.
One, two, three, four.
They don't even notice when you're there.
One, two, three, four.
-+-
You wake up. In a cold sweat. Panting. You reach both your hands to your face and rub your palms on your cheeks. Tears were cleared from your face and now sat on your hands. You sit up and release a heavy sigh. It's like the sigh has been waiting to escape all night. Like your body was relieved to be released from the nightmare drumming.
You decide to get out of bed, an easier decision than previous day's had been. You stretch your limbs and yawn. You walk to the bathroom and face your reflection. Today was going to be okay.
Or will it be.
One, two, three, four.
"It will be. Today will be okay." You affirmed to yourself in the mirror. You let out another sigh, smiled at yourself softly, and began your morning routine.
You do your make-up while watching a video. You found that taking the time to do your make-up gave you time to relax, breathe, and be yourself. You felt better about your days when you take this extra time to yourself in the morning. So, whenever you manage to get out of bed, you try to manage doing make-up too.
The video you watched was just of some guy unnecessarily analyzing a TV show you liked. He went into extreme detail about small details from the show and created theories about why certain things happened and what might happen next. You enjoyed his content. He reminded you of one of your professors.
He was a very kind old man who you can tell cares deeply about everything he talks about. He has a Scottish accent that somehow grows stronger with excitement. He's enthusiastic and rambles, and never really has a set course of taking points. He just lets his mind and his heart lead him. Saying whatever he finds most awestrucking and veering off topic drastically. In fact, you weren't really sure what the class was meant to be about.
The course description when signing up simply said, "Discussion-based class, humanities topics." The syllabus was no extra help, practically said the same thing with all the extra school required information listed. But it fulfilled your humanities credit, and the first day was interesting enough, so you stayed in the class.
Thinking about the professor, The Doctor, just The Doctor, made you want to go to his class. You checked the time on your phone. It did start in a little over two hours. You finished getting ready and then waited.
You waited maybe fifteen minutes before getting bored. You quickly put your bag together and walked out your door, then your building, into the outside would. It had been at least thirty-two hours since you were last outside. The air felt cool against your skin, reviving your senses and making you softly smile to yourself. You could hear the wind rustle the branches of nearby trees that swayed. Somehow, these trees looked the same as ever, and more beautiful than ever.
You turn around in a full circle and take in the Earth around you. She really is beautiful. You don't sit with her enough.
With new energy in your body, the dark cloud caused by the drumming smaller than ever, you walk around your campus mindlessly. Every step you take grounds you to the Earth, reminding you that the drumming can't be real.
One, two, three, four.
It isn't real.
-+-
You take a seat in the auditorium where The Doctor's class is held. You gently place your bag on the floor next to you and wait as the seats pile up. Five minutes later the room is almost full, and the tall man with short grey hair walks in, greeting the class with a Scottish, "Hello!" as he places his bag down and immediately starts writing on the chalkboard.
"Music." is written on the board. He swiftly turns around on his heel. He stops and makes direct eye contact with you. He stares for a moment, a twinkle in his eye. He diverts his attention from you and begins speaking,
"So," he clasps his hands, "who wants to tell me the importance of music to humanity?"
Hands shoot up all around you. You had been missing a fun class.
-+-
The class ends and you have a beaming smile on your face. You hadn't realized truly how fun and entrancing The Doctor was. Every student was hooked on his every word, waiting for what insane piece of information would come flying out of his mouth next. Every student including you.
The class was packing their bags and leaving around you. You heard groups starting to chat. Friends laughing loudly.
You don't have friends like that here. Your smile falls.
One, two, three, four.
A tap on the wooden desk in front of you wakes you from your thoughts, a Scottish voice accompanying it, "Are you okay, y/n? I noticed you haven't been to class in a while."
You looked up at The Doctor, no doubt admiration for him and sadness from your thoughts filling your eyes. He could read your eyes. He could read the pain and the sadness. He's felt it before.
"You noticed?" You stifled out.
"Of course I noticed." His face softened, "All of my students are important to me."
"But there's so many of us?"
"So?"
You didn't have a response to that. You suppose he was right. You just looked down at your bag, grabbed it, and started to stand up.
"Would you like to come into my office?"
You looked at him, confused and shocked.
"Just for lunch and to discuss whatever is going on. If you'd like." You look at him, still confused. Your head cocks slightly to one side, and your mouth begins to open, but The Doctor beats you to it, "I lost a student not too long ago. Her name was Bill. Bill Potts. I miss her a lot, you see, she was more than just my student. She was also my friend. She made me better. I can see her in you, and I would hate to... " He pauses, "I'm just worried about how many classes you've missed. You may not be able to pass my course."
You're really confused now. The gears are turning in your head, processing his confession of loss turned into you not passing the class. The Doctor can see the gears turning on your face, in the way your eyebrows scrunch intensely and your pupils move back and forth. You close your eyes, relax your face, and look at him with a smile.
"I would like to go to your office, yeah. Thank you." Your eyes are sincere, and when you meet his, so are they.
You follow him a short ways through campus to his office. His steps and your steps opposite. Like the drumming.
One, two, three, four.
One, two, three, four.
You try to ignore it. You try really hard but can't. You stop walking, and the drumming stops. You sigh in relief, The Doctor looks back at you with concern.
"Sorry," you say, catching up to him with a smile, "I thought I saw something."
"Like what?" He asks, curiosity filling his face.
"Oh, nothing." You weren't expecting him to ask. You didn't know what to say.
He hums in response, picking up pace until you're at his office. It's a huge room with a desk in the middle, you take a seat on one side of it while The Doctor sits opposite. He has many picture frames on his desk, and a mysterious blue police box in the corner you can't take your eyes off.
One, two, three, four.
"What's that?" you ask, pointing at the box before you can help yourself.
"A police box. It's from London in the 60's. I'm a bit of a collector of sorts."
He had this lie down pat. But you could tell he wasn't being truthful, you didn't know how, but you knew. You didn't press on about the box. You just nodded and smiled, "That's cool."
He nodded too. "Let's talk about why you've been missing class. Is everything okay back home? Anything I can do to help?"
One, two, three, four.
Something compelled you to be honest with him. Again, you didn't know what. He felt familiar. Of course you've known him the whole semester, but it felt more than that. You feel safe. You feel seen. You feel known. You knew when he lied to you just a second ago, but why?
One, two, three, four.
"Can I be honest?" you make eye contact with him, "Like, you won't lock me up in the looney bin for being crazy?" He's about to say something but you interrupt him, "And won't get me kicked out of the school or, or, I don't know, send me off to get government testing?"
He's confused now. But curious too. You can tell he's interested in what you're saying, he wants to know more. It doesn't feel like he's going to judge you. "Yes, you can be honest. You can trust me."
"Promise?" You hold out your pinky. Sure it's silly, but silly makes it more meaningful, more powerful, somehow.
He chuckles and interlocks your pinkies, "Promise."
"Okay." You stop to think.
One, two, three, four.
"So I have this noise in my head."
One, two, three, four.
"It's like drumming. One, two, three, four."
One, two, three, four.
The Doctor stiffens. "And it won't stop, Doctor." you continue. "And it's like it's affecting my thoughts. They're all negative and I'm depressed and it hurts. It really hurts, Doctor." Tears are streaming down your face. You weren't even aware talking about this would make you cry. And you didn't know why you told The Doctor about it.
After a moment of thinking, The Doctor moves from his chair and towards you. His movements are stiff. As if he's nervous. He knows something you don't. He leans down and wraps his arms around you, your head at his chest. You cry harder, and he pulls you closer in comfort.
One, two, three, four.
One, two, three, four.
One, two, three, four.
One, two, three, four.
The drumming was louder than ever. In your head and in your ears. It's not scary anymore though. You move your head away from The Doctor to release you from the hug. The drumming stops. You reach out to his chest without asking, without thinking.
On your hand you feel two heartbeats.
One, two, three, four.
You put your other hand to your own heart. Only one heartbeat. One, two.
Why did he have two heartbeats. One, two, three, four. Why was his the drumming.
"Why-" you start, but need to close your eyes and breathe, "Why does your heart sound like the drumming. Why do you have two heartbeats?"
"Follow me." He walked to the blue police box, opened the door and went inside. You sat there for a moment stunned. Then you cleared your face from your tears and got up. You made your way towards the box, looking at the door before walking inside.
You looked around in amazement. You couldn't believe what you were seeing. Your face broke out into a huge grin. You ran outside and back inside. "This defies all laws of physics! How is it-? It's?" You looked at him expectantly.
"C'mon, I know you want to say it." He had an equally bright, shit-eating grin.
"It's bigger on the inside!"
He laughed with his whole chest and body. His laugh was contagious.
"This," he gestures around the room, "is my T.A.R.D.I.S. Time And Relative Dimension In Space. And I'm a Time-Lord from the planet Gallifrey. We have two hearts, hence the two heartbeats."
You look at him; confusion, amazement, admiration and more displayed on your face.
"Now I don't know why you're hearing my species' heartbeats in your head, but I'm going to figure it out." He looks at you and smiles, you can't help but smile back, "If you want to come with me?"
"With you where?" you ask.
"Anywhere! In the whole wide universe. Not really sure where to start to help you though. Or when for that matter?"
You've never been so confused so many times in the span of one day. "But I have other classes? And don't you too?" Something clicks in your brain, "And what about my parents? And I barely know you! No offense, Doctor. I can't go traveling with someone I don't know."
"If anyone can help you, y/n, it's me. There might not be anyone else in the whole universe." You look at him, desperate now after hearing his words. "And as for your other classes and your family- TARDIS, t," he said, dragging out the sound, "stands for time. She's a time machine. Can take you right back to this moment." He smiled confidently, and made his way towards the center of the room where some sort of console was. He puts his hands on a lever, and looks at you again.
"What?" You asked, awestruck.
"Let me show you." Mischief flashes across his face, but you can tell it's more childlike than malicious. Which is odd for a man who is likely in his sixties.
A whirring sound comes from the center. The door slams shut and the lights start fluctuating. You find it hard to steady yourself as the floor becomes unstable.
"Grab onto something!" The Doctor yells. You do, a railing a few feet away. You grab on tight and try to stand up right. The Doctor is laughing with joy.
One, two, three, four.
The drumming in your head is drowned out by the TARDIS whirring. The whirring sound would soon become a new comfort. And the TARDIS a new home. And The Doctor, he would soon become the most special and fantastic person in your life.
You knew today was going to be a good day. And there are thousands more to come. Thousands more with The Doctor.
He was going to stop the drumming in your head, no matter what he had to do.
A commission I made for a fellow Doctor Who fan
They asked for some iconic Doctor pieces of clothing/accessories, so it features Tom Baker's scarf, David Tennant's Chuck Taylor Converse All Stars, Matt Smith's fez, Peter Capaldi's shades, Jodie Whittaker's t-shirt and the sprig of celery that Peter Davison wore on his lapel.
Complete with Classic Who style typography (in the DW film style) and the TARDIS on the background
