Random A** Headcanons

Random a** headcanons

Jame T. Kirk x Ostaran!reader

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again

so damn clingy and gives the best hugs

like the ones that linger to the point where eventually you’re just cuddling in an upright position

will pet your ears hair while you guys are just hanging out in your quarters

will never understand how you can eat so many vegetables

“That’s like eating the garnish, why would you do that???”

Jokingly leaves you things for your nest as though he were worshipping at an altar

“Oh mighty bunny darling, please accept this measly mortal offering of a fluffy blanket and a snack!”

you just grumble halfheartedly and pull him and the offerings into your nest

@finallyforgotten I hope this small offering will temporarily satiate your hunger for Ostaran!reader while I work on getting the inspiration for something more substantial! 🐰

Teacher's Pet part 16

Synopsis: The reader feels off after last night’s activities. She starts to flounder a bit, and she meets another cautionary tale. What?

A/n: I'm so so so sorry that this took so long. Life has happened, so yay! But here's Gwen! Yay! To all who read this, rhank you so much! And to my mutual, you are the best.

Needless to say, you woke up sore. The kind of sore it would take you a little while to get out of bed for. Your usual jolt out of sleep happened, but it was stopped by the Time Lord's vice grip on your body. He seemed to be still asleep. His hearts thrumming in a rhythm of four lulling you out of you usual first moments of anxiety you always suffered from upon waking.

You could feel every bite and thrust of the night before. He was like an animal in heat. The way he acted felt quite literally couldn’t be described as any way but in rut.

Did Time Lords have mating schedules? You knew the gender thing was a bit murky. But did they have a mating schedule? You didn’t know if a hybrid of human and Time Lord was possible…

Or if the morning-after pill would work.

You silently begged your IUD to put in the work.

Plus, would the abortion clinic be able to deal with it? Or would you have to break your own rules and go off planet to some space clinic to deal with that?

Your singular heart raced in it’s cage.

You pushed some of these truly silly thoughts aside.

A dark, but nice thought of you knocked up with his kid entered your brain. Maybe you’d look good pregnant…and if it were his kid?

You swallowed and laughed at yourself, You must really be in a committed relationship of you had domestic bliss coming to your mind. Derailing your plans and solid oaths…

You felt mentally changed too. It was difficult to put your finger on it, maybe it was his possessiveness of you in the act. Or the fact that he was changing his entire lifestyle to suit you. Sometimes felt…distinctively off.

Not that you minded. Change was good.

But it lay there as surely as you did, covered in bruises and muscles still shaking to their core. An inexplicable feeling, a haunting sensation.

You laid next to him quietly. Unable to break the moment where it stood. The moment was not half bad in itself.

You noticed the hearts behind you start to speed up. You turned your body gently in the hold and saw his eyes gazed up at you.

“How long have you been up?” You questioned.

“Seconds.”

It was satisfactory enough for you.

“Hey, do you really have to meet with this woman? We can play hooky and I don’t know…get a Chinese and sit by the river.” You tempted. You didn’t want to leave his side at all. You felt the urge to curl into his ribcage and stay there. In that bed. Indefinitely.

“I have to do my job…” His lashes caught on themselves as he rolled his eyes.

“Fair enough.” You replied as you thought about the money you personally were missing out on. You’d feel it in the middle of the next term when you couldn’t even afford a packet of crisps and a cheap beer to take the edge off.

Yet alone cigarettes and cheap lingerie…

“Yeah…” You didn’t push.

“Free to come with me, my fawn.” He tightened his grip on you as he nestled his face in your hair, pushing his forehead to yours.

“You mentioned some person from another organization? What’s her deal?” Curiosity threatened…

“Oh, yes. Gwen Cooper-Williams. She was a part of this organization funded by the monarchy. To investigate and harvest alien technology and be off the books about it. Was started because Victoria and I had some issues. My old friend…” The word friend seemed to hiss its way out of his teeth. Lots of baggage there, you noted. “Took over the Cardiff branch. Was trying to reform it from the inside in my honor. She was his second-in-command. Everyone died. Except them.”

You felt grim. Death followed the Doctor like that kilo that you kept gaining and losing did.

However, the grimy thought swept itself away with the blink of those perfect eyes and the warmth of the bed you shared. He might have been cooler than you in body temperature, but the blankets and your warm, human body made it a comfortable furnace…

The horrors of the Doctor’s ever-widening world were getting bigger, but you weren’t reacting how you probably should be.

More differences.

“I think she may be bringing her family…A real family affair.”

“Like Mary J. Blige?” You tried a little bit of banter.

“Maybe…that sounds familiar. But I can’t place it…” He mused, seemingly inhaling your exhale.

“Of course. “

You found yourself having to leave the warm pile of blankets and him, his alarm on a watch announced itself.

You let out a puff of air as you pouted. He got out of bed and you crinkled the bedding around your neck and tucked your chin over it.

“You can come with me or get out.” He bribed against your petulance.

“Fine!” You made a show of it as you got out of bed. By the time you had resigned yourself to being officially ‘up’, he was mostly dressed.

“Humans, you really are a bunch of kids at times.” He observed as he zipped up his hoodie and went for his blazer.

“Weird thing to say to someone you actively sleep with.” You shot back as you crouched over your suitcase and started picking through the clothes.

“Well, I am hundreds of years older than you, aren’t I, my darling fawn.” He pet your hair and traced his way down to stroke the underside of your throat. You liked the sensation and how it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Mmmm, yeah.” You leaned into it as he took his other hand and glided it through your hair. You halted your search for a pair of fresh underwear and a top.

“Be good and I’ll get you permanent clearance here.” He jokingly chided.

“Okay…” You sighed as you didn’t really want clearance, but it was a nice offer anyhow.

You got up and started to dress yourself. Nothing too special, just an old tee-shirt and jeans, you didn’t know what all the day entailed, so you went for easy everything. You thanked your lucky stars you had a nice jacket tucked away for any night time casual excursions.

You went into the bathroom and did your normal skincare and some basic make-up, and to cover up the love bites he gave you. With all that, you kept your hair down.

These were no ones business, you felt.

“I knew a person, she needed three mirrors to do her make-up.” He placed his right hand in the air and moved it about to elaborate that.

“I mean…it helps.” You shrugged as you finished up sticking on a coat of lip gloss.

“She had an abnormally round face.”

“Cool.”

He offered you the crook of his arm and you grabbed your purse.

You met the head of UNIT, Petronella and some others you couldn’t recall, and some soldiers in the entrance as some very attractive middle-aged woman with dark brown, almost black hair and green eyes walked in. She wore a utilitarian leather jacket and a pair of combat boots. She held a laptop bag and a messenger bag was slung over her shoulder.

Her freckles were captivating…

She was accompanied by a slightly-heavy set man, a young teen girl and a preteen boy. The man had a big rucksack on and had a laptop bag as well.

“Oy! You’re Kate?” She walked up to Kate Stewart and offered to shake her hand.

“Yes, pleased to finally meet you, Missus Cooper-Williams. I trust your trip up from Porth Colmon was pleasant.” Kate went in with a degree of professionalism that went over the head of both you and this Gwen character.

“I got a note from Martha Jones to wish you well…” Kate added on.

“I’ll send her an email.” The woman’s Welsh accent trilled delightfully through your skull.

You felt yourself grow several shades of embarrassed.

“I’m the Doctor.” Your obviously-there boyfriend motioned over, offering himself into the fray.

You stood by and felt your cheeks burn as she stared at him. You felt like you didn’t belong. You knew you probably did. You felt entitled to belong here.

“You look…familiar? Why do I know you?” Gwen took a look at him, a haunted expression seemed to catch in her throat as she hitched her breath out of her lungs.

“I’ve been told my face is unforgettable.” He smiled and swished his fingers up over.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You do that.”

The professionals took over and ushered everyone into a basement digital archive.

You made yourself useful and got everyone’s tea and coffee order and went to the small coffee station in the corner.

“I take it you’re the new Jack and Martha? A new Rose?” Gwen said as she took her tea out of your hand.

“I guess?” You felt a pang of something, jealously perhaps. More of that sinking that you felt at the botched Narcotic Another meeting for companions.

However, the minute these emotions took hold, you felt yourself being washed in a wave of self-reassurance. You were different, you were his fawn. His favorite.

It felt off, but you sighed in relief.

“When you get thrown out, yeah, Torchwood may be now gone. But my sofa is open. He dumped Jack in a bad place far from home.” She whispered. “If you get dumped in the past, here on Earth, here's all my addresses. Tell me you’re a friend of Jack. I’ll retcon myself obviously. But if it’s in the future…” She quickly scribbled down some addresses and slid them into your pants’ pocket.

You looked over, a stabbing in your eyes at your Doctor, who was shredding wires to optimize intake, sonic screwdriver wedged into his mouth.

You felt yourself start to shake, but more of your brain started talking at you. It told you that he’d never do that to you, and didn’t you recall that you never would go into space, let alone go back in time. It was a warm, cloying feeling, not unlike the blankets that you so unwillingly left that morning.

You inhaled and the sigh of relief came up again.

You were his favorite little fawn, after all!

You sat back and let everyone go about. The children were engrossed on their phones.

You still felt off, and you worried maybe your IUD got slightly dislodged after last night’s activities.

Could you get pregnant if that happened? You couldn’t recall reading that in the unholy ream of paper that was included in its placement.

You stared at them. Pondering what would happen if you were getting pregnant as you sat there. What if you couldn’t get rid of a half-human, half-Time Lord fetus? Were you prepared for motherhood?

You had so much life and plans for the future.

A future that was already disrupted, but you were still going to have one.

A baby, regardless of species, would ruin that…

Could you be a good parent? Did you have that in you? The Doctor had parenting experience. He mentioned a granddaughter. You didn’t know how good of one he was. You didn’t know that. You couldn’t…

You shook yourself mentally by your shoulders. You clearly were losing it. You had to snap out of it.

Good lord! Was this you in a healthy relationship? Sappy and soft? Thinking of total domesticity?

A side of you you’ve never met…

It was all reasonably quick in the end. The entire operation wrapped up as quickly as it had started.

“I’d recommend you to a few museums for your children…” You heard Kate say to Gwen and Rhys. (You had heard Gwen say his name quite a few times in the last hour and a half.)

“No, we’re going back to Wales. Quick trip to this dump you call our capital, go back.” Gwen said. No love clearly lost there!

The Doctor snickered.

As she left, she shot one final look at you. It seemed imploring. Then one final, baffled look at the Doctor.

She took her menagerie and vanished into the busy streets.

Apparently the Doctor was needed at meetings, and you were given the afternoon off. You got a reassuring kiss and told to have fun. London was free for you to use and abuse.

You took it. You needed the fresh air. A quick, real-life reality check. Away from whatever BBC-level, sci-fi bullshit your life had become.

You found yourself fiddling with your necklaces and adjusting them against the bruises on your neck and shoulders. The shirt you were wearing wasn’t a good enough barrier, but it was good enough for now.

You found yourself in some park near a Tesco Superstore and holding a coffee from a near-by café you hardly remembered ordering. It was growing cold.

You broke down, fully embarrassed about the day. Not only how useless you felt, but how you were so sick with love that you weren’t even able to have yourself a sense of worry.

You felt weak.

You would have usually tried to buck yourself up, to make yourself and your ego take precautions against this. But it didn’t come. All you could think about was him. His everything down to the way his toes were shaped.

You felt like without him you’d physically fall into shards.

Truly, relationships weren’t for you.

But you dare not do anything.

You loved him too much.

You made a note to go see your gynecologist and perhaps get a therapist.

You started to light up a cigarette but you gazed up at the sky as it burnt itself up.

You got a text from him wondering where you were. You shared your location. He was on his way.

Suddenly, all your apprehension and agony of the situation vanished. He was coming here! He was coming for you! He was going to join you! Your Doctor was coming to spend the rest of the day with you on this park bench! He’d never desert you or let you go away from him!

You fought to get yourself under control, you may be sickeningly in love, but you were in public…

You sipped your ice-cold, formerly-hot coffee and waited for him to join you.

Thus, he did.

He slid up besides you and looked out across the park.

“So what did you do?” He asked in earnest.

You felt instantly clear-headed and in a less pensive mood. “Just this, went on the Tube. Wandered. I don’t want to be a tourist.”

“Yeah, you blend right in.” He trilled, you took it for sarcasm.

You shrugged and exaggerated your hands. Your ring on your left index finger lightly clicked off the side of the bench as you slid it back down at rest.

“What’s something you wish you could do? Anything in the whole of the city! Name one thing and it’s yours…” He revved himself up.

He wrapped a finger in your hair and curled it in to the base of your skull as he went to stroke your jaw slightly and repeatedly.

It sent a shiver down your spine and pleasure to your core. It made you throb a tad.

Here you were, coming undone, in public. Children were around! So were dogs! Not an optimal place…

But nonetheless, you felt a heavy pull in your gut as you leaned your jaw up and felt the sky beam a ray of sun onto you. His fingers felt next to glorious as they stroked you and the entwined finger anchored his entire hand on you. The way his thumb was swiping over your lips was absolutely criminal. The skin on your lower lip was prickling and getting more sensitive with every sweep. Your moan was slight and reverberated throughout his thumb. You parted your lips in hope that he’d place it inside your mouth.

“This feels nice. Can we do this?” You cooed.

“Maybe later.” He used his entwined finger to pull your head up and kiss you and untangling himself from your head.

You dwelled on his ask of you for a moment before you whipped out your phone to consult your list you made previously in preparation.

“Gunnersbury Park Museum? The Natural History Museum? I’ve got a lot of cafés and little record stores and book shops listed. But you could chose…I mean. You could probably correct the exhibits if they’re wrong.” You let out a nervous laugh and mocked his age lovingly.

“I’m not allowed in the Natural History Museum.” He shook his head and bull-frogged his cheeks. “Yes, it was this particular body. No, I’m not risking it.”

You bit your lips together and started shredding bits of skin off with your front teeth.

“Of course.”

He looked over at your list, an eyebrow cautiously raised. The Doctor tapped at one of your ideas.

“Kew Gardens is relatively near here. We can go there.”

“After you, then.” You smiled and got up, offering in the crook of your arm.

His face was unreadable, but inched towards amused. At least that was your interpretation. Sometimes faces were tricky for you, but this man was no exception. Often it seemed like he was human enough to interpret things at face value, sometimes things felt like maybe faces worked differently where he was from.

As if you didn’t feel like enough of a freak…

But he understood you always. Even when you didn’t understand you, yourself. Which came in handy, all things considered. Most people seemed to interpret your words and actions differently than intended. But not him, not the Doctor.

It was almost like he was inside your brain.

Maybe that was a perk of dating an ancient alien who had been around the block. He’d already been domesticated.

Good.

Whatever it was, you’d take it!

As he took your arm and you headed out to Kew Gardens, you felt positively swept away.

Over eight billion people on the planet, and who knew how many more out in that big, mad universe he traveled.

And here he was, with you!

How lucky you were.

Teacher's Pet part 14

Synopsis: The Reader gets a potential glimpse into her future. She also makes an enemy.

A/n: yeaaayyyy. More fun. Fuckery world building. Thanks to all my readers. I should probably do a tag list instead of zapping ur inboxes. Uhhh....yeah. to my mutuals who have to deal with me and aren't attached to this, I am sorry. I love you and I would donate my organs to you.

Grades were posted. Most were good, nothing to really write home about. You did far better than you expecting. The self-doubt really was deep-rooted, wasn’t it?

Except one. That stupid alien gave you a near-perfect. Just one point shy of an absolutely perfect one-hundred percent.

So much for no favoritism…

You’d take it anyways. And not bring it up…

Work was slow but it was steady.

He even met you between shifts at your park.

You started feeling a tad insane without him. Did love feel like this? You admitted you had little experience with love. Just what you attempted to create in the past. And trashy books and television shows and movies and songs…

You needed him like you needed a cigarette and a stiff drink after a long day.

Bella Swan would be so proud of you, you degraded yourself in your mind.

“How is work going?” The Doctor asked with genuine shine of curiosity in his tone and face.

“The amount of professors in now…I have to dodge them! I do think the statistics professor I had two terms ago recognized me!” You spoke in a shocked, scared tone. You didn’t need that getting out. Could ruin your future plans.

“Oh no!” He chuckled, as he handed you a bit of sandwich.

“You aren’t forgettable.”

You skeptically glared over at him.

“Any who. How was your gig at the student union?”

“No one appreciated the irony of Pink Floyd.”

“And?”

“Everyone loves Doctor Disco!” He flourished then played air guitar.

You burst out laughing. With a quick roll of your eyes, you shook your head.

“You’re such a nerd.”

“I invented the concept!”

“Probably true!” You let yourself think of his time on Earth. Who knew what funk he has spread? You weren’t going to delve into it much more.

Yet.

One day, when you felt brave enough.

“I have to go to London for a while in two weeks. Just maintenance of the Black Archives…I need to streamline some stuff for making it easier for my next few regenerations. And update some things about a plan for proxy since another organization is down to a woman named Gwen and her husband and she’s thinking of retiring the entire engagement. Her…leader hasn’t returned to the planet in ages. I doubt he ever will. This planet has caused him too much pain. Which, ironic, since his ancestors came from here. Talk about mother wounds! Just upload all the databases for UNIT to deal with.”

“Inviting me?” You clarified.

“Yeah…I think it’ll take a week. Especially with the layers of bureaucracy that is in place these days.” He looked over, his hair caught in the wind. “Could you spare a week? No TARDIS, no time travel. Just hop to, hop out, the slow way around.”

You licked your top row of teeth and scraped it back into place.

“Sure?”

“Perfect. I’ll have them ready a room, a better room for us.”

“One with a window?”

“If they do have those.”

You nodded.

“It’s a date!”

“Fantastic.” He smiled but seemed to flash in his eyes some hidden response from just the one word…

You chewed your shared sandwich and sipped your can of Coke Zero. The weather was getting warmer and the sun was actually shining in one of those perfect, photo-ready days.

“The vitamin D feels good, doesn’t it?” You turned your head to face the sun. The heat felt too good on your skin. You let a little moan slip through your lips.

“Perhaps. I might need a sun crème soon.” He replied.

You snorted. He was bone pale, but you didn’t know how alien skin worked yet.

“Yeah, you are pretty pale.”

Your alarm went off and you had to go.

Final good-byes said and you stalked off.

You had to plan out your little London escape. If it was hard work for him, you wanted to kill time in comfort. Do some sightseeing. Nothing major. London had tons of viral cafés and pop-ups.

The time flew by…

And suddenly you were off and away in another fancy armored Range Rover with armed escorts.

He did do you a bit of justice and got you a room with a view. Just not a particularly stunning one…

He went off, rather rapidly if you did say so yourself, because something needed him to submit his DNA and he couldn’t have any radiant interference. Petronella needed to be with him to get her DNA analyzed or something. You were not going to try to comprehend.

Fine by you, you’d nose around. There were so many floor and he gave you some sort of weird blank paper he said would get you through anything you needed.

“It’s psychic paper!” He said, smile up to his ears.

“Looks like a piece of printer paper shoved into an old wallet to me.” You replied as you regarded the object.

Fine by you, you stuffed it in your jean’s pocket.

You found yourself on the first floor, and saw a door open. There was a sign posted on an easel. ‘Companions and Surviving Family Support Group’, it proclaimed.

You put two and two together. It was probably in reference to the man doing who-knows-what.

You weren’t a companion per say. The Doctor assured you as much.

Did you invade? Did you go look at your future? Or a potential future? It mentioned family members…

Your curiosity got the best of you. Like that damn cat!

You walked in, it was set up like a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. Coffee, sweet treats, chairs all in a circle.

There were already a crowd of people.

And your entrance wasn’t exactly planned.

You slid onto the chair that was closest to the door. An east exit if this was too much.

“Oh! A new face!” A woman with a lot of life etched into her face with a kind smile and a mop of white-shock hair, her lips as red as blood.

“Does, is…am I late?” Was the best you could choke out. You could feel your eyes start to bulge. You swallowed hard. All eyes were on you. You didn’t like it. You preferred anonymity.

The mistake was already clear in your mind.

“No, dove. Right on time! We’re still waiting on Ian! I’m Jo!” She scooted her chair closer to you.

You thrust your tongue out and bit it’s side.

“I’m (y/n).”

A short woman with a leather jacket and all the authoritarian air of something that placed your hairs on the back of your neck at attention glared at you and Jo. “Why don’t we save it all for introductions…”

You got up and grabbed a bottle of water and sat back down.

An ancient man wandered in and sat down.

“Oh! Ian, love! We got a new straggler!” Jo said to him and gave him a hug that seemed too strong for her aged body.

The bossy girl cleared her throat. “Now we can start.”

You hated her already. She clearly ran this group with an iron fist.

There was Jo, Ian, the bitch’s name was Yaz, Martha, a woman who called herself Ace, a married couple named Nyssa and Tegan, a grandmother and grandson duo named Graham and Ryan, a Mel, and some young man named Luke…

Quite a big group.

It came down to you, you introduced yourself. And were supposed to give some brief synopsis of your relationship with the Doctor.

You stared off into space.

“Yeah, he’s here…doing something. I don’t know. I’m his…girlfriend. He’s also a professor at my university.” You stared at your left palm and gauged the reaction. “Nothing major. I’ve got his promise that he’s not going to get me in the way of death.” You finished with a shrug. “He introduced me to his…ex recently. Some milf named Missy. Have you lot met her?”

Yaz’s eyes could have make entrails out of you…

“What? Did I not brush my teeth correctly?” You pointed that faux-question towards her.

“She told me she didn’t do relationships.” She spoke in a tiny voice eventually.

“Well, maybe I’m special.” You shot Yaz a shit-eating grin masked as an innocent smile.

“Oh! I heard the Master went female!” Jo broke up your brewing tiff. “He was such a softie towards me! I enjoyed our little battles.”

You laughed and covered up your palm.

The conversations went on. Mainly centered around Missy now. Apparently she was the prime minister and tortured Martha and her family. Also, body-snatched Nyssa’s father. And became a cat. She’d certainly done her fair share of damage. No wonder she was chained up in a basement in Bristol of all places.

That explained her feline nature.

“Which Doctor are you with?”

“I don’t know. Tall? Thin? Scottish? Severe face? Plays guitar? Wild grey hair. Dark roots, too handsome…yeah.” You didn’t know how many or what the Doctor looked like previously.

“Oh. So the one before Yaz and Graham and me!” Ryan piped up. “She mentioned being a grey-haired Scot right before we met her.”

“Oh, so he got his wish of being a chick next.” You affirmed.

“Wonder what happened to you!” Yaz said, venom starting to leak into her voice.

“Nothing I need to know about, okay?” You pressured back. Two could play this game.

She clearly had sour grapes over you getting chosen and not her.

More conversations broke out, more story-swapping. You started to feel beyond way out just out of your depths. You had to keep your calm. Especially in front of your new foe. Any weakness and you were going to be either throwing down with her or she’d do something unspeakable.

She was apparently a police officer, after all!

“So you’ve never gone on an adventure? To space? Not even back in time? Or forward?” Ace spoke incredulously.

“No, I’m not going to put my life at risk. I made him promise to not. He’s retired. He just needs to help UNIT and rehabilitate Missy.”

“She doesn’t stay good!” Yaz spit out. She then told her tale of him and how the only way to break free from him, the Doctor had to hand Missy over to the Nazis.

“Not my problem.” You said, after finally scraping your jaw off the floor.

“And wow, what the fuck happened between now and when? Handing over someone to the literal Nazis?” You shot up an errant hand and glared. “And hanging around cops. No offense. It’s like historical Jesus versus American Jesus.” You made the decision to bite your middle finger nail in a covert attempt to flip her off.

“Maybe you had something to do with it.” She accused.

“Oh, yeah. Blame me.” You said.

Others attempted civility between the two of you.

Martha seemed between two minds here.

“Just remember how powerful your emotions are!” Ian called out. “Especially how deeply the Doctor evokes them in us!”

It dawned on you, and you decided to take the highest of roads. “Yeah, were dealing with some alien. Like…damn. We really are out here getting….cut up over an alien. He’s our weird alien. But yeah.” He was your alien. And you were going to defend your man, but you didn’t want Yaz and her feelings to make you any less powerful. “His body count has got to be in the millions.” You used the term in a way to dig in that the Doctor picked you for the mainstream meaning and not Yaz. But it worked for companions too!

“Who knows how many of us he’s taken a shine to!” Suddenly you felt yourself heart plummet. You knew you weren’t special as part of a group, but you decided to soothe yourself with your marked differences. No magical abduction story. Just a normal, morally-grey student and teacher relationship. Only it was your luck to end up with the most ran-through alien.

And, it did suit you. You too were ‘ran-through’.

You wished he was free and you could get some comfort here…

You felt yourself return to normal, and decided to pass the ultimate catch.

“Sorry for getting heated. The past month or so since he’s revealed his double life to me, has been…shattering. I’ve only recently discovered that he was…you know, not some man I hang out with. I only recently started calling him Doctor. Not Professor Smith.”

The though of him not taking anyone else as a lover after you did fill you with a sense of pride. Whatever impact you had, that was a mark in your favor. Loyal to you…even if you were dead or broken-up or whatever your fate was to mess around with anyone else.

A permanent (y/n)-shaped hole no one could even get close enough to fill.

When he was done with his task you’d have to slap him and then suck him off.

Martha finally put in her two cents.

“Just don’t get hurt. The last time he was in love when I was with him…so bad. The ending was enough to destroy me.”

“Thank you.”

The conversation went back to normal. You really enjoyed Jo’s stories. Apparently he was a white-haired debonair sort for her. You were curious to see what that had looked like. You doubted it could compare to your particular Doctor, but it was probably very close.

You found yourself laughing and getting along with most. Except for Yaz. You both kept finding yourselves shooting daggers at each other.

You tried to rise above it.

However. You were only human…

You heard a sharp rap at the door and turned at the noise.

It was your Doctor.

“Sorry. I was going to the toilets. Heard some nice familiar voices. Smelt the coffee! I love a cup of coffee after genetic sequencing…Hello!”

There were nary a word as he strode over and made a cup, dumping about a dozen sugar packets in.

“I’ll let you all talk amongst yourselves. Oh, and (y/n), I have tickets to walk through the Chelsea Physic Garden at three. Will you join me? And Martha, I am so deeply sorry for all I’ve done to you. It’s weighed on my conscience since I was a young man in a bow-tie. Truly. From the bottoms of both my hearts. And, oh, faces I don’t know yet, catch your laters.” He shot a quick peace sign.

He breezed out with the same ease that he came in with…

You flushed hard and felt yourself wanting to kick your legs hard. The smile that crept up around your face was probably very goofy. You felt suddenly very giddy and lovesick. And embarrassed.

You swore you heard Yaz mutter something about “Daddy issues”.

You wanted to snap and fight her on the floor.

Jo and Ace heckled. “Oh, he’s back to being a groovy gentleman.” Jo said. “I recognize that red jacket!”

After a while, everyone seemed to wrap it up.

You received quite a few warnings about how passionate a relationship with the Doctor is, and how it would eventually run it’s course.

You didn’t know whether to heed it, or believe him. You were airing on the side of him. After all, he could have popped down here in his TARDIS, but he was following your regulations down to the letter. Changed behaviors, and for whatever reason, when you were long gone, and he was a she, the Doctor didn’t take Yaz up on her romantic offerings.

You felt ashamed of your ‘I can fix him’/’I am the only exception’ mindset. You were a rebel to the idea of monogamy usually. You also didn’t believe in true love. Not after all that you’d seen at work and even experienced in your personal life. However, the beating of your heart and the ache in your soul and the throb of your cunt interfered…

You felt like you were his favorite.

Maybe you were.

You were delusional enough, you decided.

With final hugs and you swore you’d get down and learn more about your shared alien, you’d exited to go and text him that you were out front, smoking.

“You know, maybe you died from lung cancer.” Yaz materialized, carrying some stuff to her car. “Or emphysema.”

You blew out a puff in her general direction.

“I don’t need a lecture. He’s already on my ass enough to get me to quit.” You played back.

“So, lady Doctor. What does she look like?” You asked. Curious. You tried a friendly route. “Still Scottish?” The two incarnations of Time Lords you had met had been. It was an honest question. You even tried a cordial laugh.

“No, definitely not Scottish.”

You nodded.

“She’s blonde and has the most amazing eyes! I took her to get her ears pierced. She’s the most incredible and infuriating person I’ve ever met.”

“Apparently that’s par for the course.” You agreed.

She gave you some agreement.

“Does she still play guitar?” You offered an opportunity to bond, girl to girl. You may have hated her, but a cop on your side may come in handy. One day. And you both were tied to each other now.

So…you had to act your age or whatever.

She was a little younger than you. You could remember being her age. Empathy.

“No, she can’t even carry a tune. She sings all the time.”

You had to let a small snort escape.

“He can sing really well.” You cupped a palm to your mouth. “It’s a bit annoying at times, you know. He frequently does during his lectures.”

“So…that hadn’t changed.” You could see the gears in her brain turning.

“Wait, he’s your professor?” She exclaimed.

“Not currently.” You shrugged, as his text saying that he was coming down popped up, absolved of guilt.

“That’s so wrong!”

“Honey, the Doctor abducts barely legal girls with a degree of regularity. I think a tame affair with a student who started uni later than most is the best-case scenario. You included.” You flicked a bit of ash off your cigarettes end. “No offense.”

“Yeah…” You clearly won.

He swanned into the little front garden at the entrance of UNIT. He changed to a hoodie and simple black blazer and a relaxed pair of checked trousers.

It made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey. I was thinking Italian for dinner. Or Thai. In the fifty-second century there’s a great collision of their flight colonies.”

You smacked your teeth together and let out the final puff of smoke.

“You’re the Doctor before my Doctor.” Yaz gazed up, a look of pre-mourning in her eyes.

“As my wife, River, would say, ‘Spoilers, sweetie.’ It’s nice to meet you early. I’ll try to wipe you from my memory to make it easier for my future self.” He gave Yaz’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Yeah, good luck. See you soon?” You called out as you let yourself be swept off your feet by your particular Doctor.

“Sure?” You heard her say.

A few blocks later and going on the Underground, you pulled him close by the lapels. You gave him a firm kiss and slapped his ass. It was a ‘thank-you’ in a small, simple way. You’d never end up, all things go as planned, like any of those perfect victims. Who knew, maybe you’d dump him. It was all open-ended.

You had your entire life ahead of you. More or less.

For now, it was just you, the Doctor, and a walk in a garden with a fabulous dinner date.

“What was that for?” He looked at you quizzically.

“You’ll never know…” You grinned immensely and a little psychotically. You felt your nose crinkle a bit.

“Oh?” He replied back, skeptical in tone.

It was a start.

“Yeah…” You breathed, inhaling this moment. Inhaling the scent of him, you felt sane, safe, stable and most importantly- in love and loved back.

The train pulled up.

A perfect start to a perfect week.

He snaked out the psychic paper and tapped it like it was an oyster card. You entered the platform and smiled up at him...

Yeah, life was beyond awesome.

Teacher's Pet part 6

Synopsis: The game is set, and the players are playing. The Doctor and the Reader...what will go on?

A/n: I'm laughing evily. Also, I'm in good spirits, had a phenomenal day. This one is a bit longer. Turns out if you have little responsibility, besides yourself, you can bang out a banger. Also, listen to Maria by Justin Bieber.

You saw the Gmail alert go off on your phone as you changed into a suitable cute outfit and did your first layer of work make up. You were out of luck, there was a new girl in and she was getting the VIP treatment with the largest suite offered. You were moisturizing yourself before you dared to look. You really couldn’t be arsed if it was a personal email on your private account. And you didn’t need the anxiety if it was on your school account. You were angry that you didn’t have enough room to stretch out or put emotional distance between a man and you, if the situation provided required it.

You got yourself perfect, as there were already some cars in the car park. Probably a bit of stress relief before these men went home to their wives and kids. They’d blame traffic. Probably.

You didn’t know or care. Their lives seemed like parallel universes. Hypothetical. Unproven. Just a theory.

You decided to give yourself another dusting of antiperspirant before checking your phone.

It was fucking him…

You opened it,

“Dear (y/n),

It’s a shame that you’re not well. I’ll see you at the same time as last week. Secure the notes from someone.

Cordially yours,

Professor Smith.”

And that’s the name of that tune, you bitterly scoffed. You tossed your phone onto the table you had it rest on with the rest of your needs for work.

Seemed up his alley to wreck your focus! With his stupid face and stupid lust for life!

Plus, being on your phone was not focused on your bag.

Out of sight, out of mind..

You said “Hello” to the security guy again on your way to the bar. A few men were there and you had hours to go before your first appointment. One of the other girls working was talking to two at once. One was in deep discussion with the bartender and the phone girl.

One man was nursing a beer and was watching something on his phone. A target.

Good.

You walked over and put in the work. He was easily satisfied and went back to the bar and nursed another beer before getting up and leaving.

You actually had a good day and napped easily before you went on your second shift. You had plenty of money and dropped a fat, crisp twenty note in front of the homeless person outside the shops.

You bought a pack of cigarettes and smoked one on your way back to the cloister of your “office”. You let out a shaky cough. It had been over a week since your last one, so obviously, the smoke hit your lungs harshly.

Damn that man!

You napped some more before returning to work. Fresh outfit, even more make up. A spritz of perfume to hide the scent of smoke in the hair…

A whole routine.

Friday night was lucrative to the point of pain. You had to tell your manager and booking girl that you were going on a walk and needed a break.

You took your phone, bundled up, and your headphones.

It was after midnight, dangerous, but whatever. Keep to the area.

You had a wonderful time, the few cigarettes you consumed and the Fanta you drank restored you. The music was a good thing.

Suddenly the air felt heavy. And you felt observed. Something on the back of your neck. The hairs. It felt perverse. You paused your music and took out your headphones long enough to hear a weird, distinctive “vwrorrp-vworrp” followed by what sounded like a car wheezing.

Whatever the hell it was-it freaked you out enough to go back in the safety of the car park.

You finished up and went back. Had a quick shower and started preparing for the next chapter of your work shift.

You hated the stupid schedule system, but shifts like this made it all worth it.

Saturday was just a bit slower and Sunday, outside some bookings that were already scheduled was glacial and dry. Bad fishing.

Thank heavens for Thursday and Friday! You thought. You made bank, and had some fun. Always a good thing. And the manager got you all some fancy pizza in celebration of the new girl surviving her first rotation. And her deciding that all this was worth some more time to sell.

The manager really must have taken a shine to her. That never happened.

All in all? Good work. You could rest easy for the rest of the week. And pay off bills. And afford to shop at a fancy health food store instead of probably junk, loaded with shit, that’ll kill you quicker.

Yippee!

You had barely thought of your little distraction all weekend, until Monday.

Your alarm went off. And you remembered you hadn’t responded to him.

“Thanks! Sorry for the late reply! I was busy! I’ll be there!” It was quick, apologetic and mostly-honest.

Him.

You cursed yourself out. The minute he came into focus, you were a bigger mess than you were ever before!

You messaged someone who you knew had probably had the notes from Thursday. No such luck. And your little meeting was looming large.

You’d have to tell him the truth, you fucked up. No notes.

Deciding to revel in the mundane, before leaving, you made yourself a nice cup of mint tea with honey. You sat in a corner wrapped in your blanket and luxuriate in the warmth of the tea and the rest of the blanket pile. You wasted a few minutes on social media. Drowning your brain cells seemed like a good idea. A distraction for you from the returned knot in your stomach and hole in your heart that your stupid crush on Professor Smith had caused. A very welcome one.

After all, you did have couple thousand pound weekend! A freak occurrence! Rare! So why not indulge in some mindless self care?

After a while, you made the smart choice and readied yourself for school and the war zone that being locked in the office with him would be.

The class you had in the morning slipped by with your focus becoming increasingly erratic. You didn’t want to go, but you trudged into the bathroom to psych yourself up. Not out..

Finally stable, you trudged your way to your new Hell. A concept that, up until this semester, was comical to you.

You felt like a clown.

Booboo the Fool.

You had to laugh at yourself. Buy yourself a clown nose and ship yourself off to the circus!

Pathetic!

You knocked raptly. Maybe you’d just go into a manic state or overdrive and the time would fly away and you’d go back to life. And he would potentially be scared of you enough to back off and not encourage any more meetings besides what your schedule permitted…

He welcomed you in, offered to take your jacket and pulled out the chair for you.

“I had my assistant get me some hot chocolate for us.” He gestured over to some disposable cups lodged into one of those cardboard cup holder things.

The fuck was he doing? Had you passed out and entered dream world? Was he tormenting you? Did he know that you were just head over heels for him?

“Thanks…” You said and took it. You off-handedly wished you had those strips that you could test if a drink had been fucked with. Not that you’d accuse him of it. Or rather that you leapt to the conclusion that he was trying to. Life had taught you that free drinks from men sometimes came with consequences.

You reassured yourself that he was still besotted with his dead wife. The total badass.

You envied her. She got what you clearly desired.

You swallowed a sip.

He seemed casual. Had a simple jumper on over his body and a pair of dark jeans. You noticed he wore Doc Martens. Very ageing punk rocker. The jumper hung on his chest quite well. He was skinny, but you could see his chest was sturdy.

“So, did you get your notes?” He smiled, all of his teeth showing. He seemed to know something. There was a bizarre glint in his eye. It was as freaky as it was mesmerizing.

“No, didn’t get a chance. I’m going to the school tutoring soon. I’ll talk to them about it. My fault. The weekend got away from me. I was swamped at work. And then I forgot. I’m sorry.” You blabbered on, deeply apologetic.

You prayed in your mind that if Gd was listening, for him to open a hole up in the planet, swallow you whole, and that you were sorry for that one time you accidentally ate a cheeseburger drunk.

Among other sins…

“Then I have to educate you from scratch. You remember on Tuesday we were talking about the nature of the universe and what it owes us? If it owes us?”

“Yes.” You added a keen head-shake. Remembering how you fled the room and had a mental breakdown.

“What if you put in the work? For years. Centuries even. Battled with the darkness in yourself and others. Saved all you could save. Then what? Would the universe grant you a favor? What would you do to garner that favor?”

You were losing the plot. Clearly.

“What if you were timid and didn’t mean to tread on things? Just survived. Suffered a bit, nothing to write home about, but still enough to Mar your soul? Did what you had to. Would the universe grant you mercy in form of a favor?”

Seemed like this was bordering on less of philosophy and more of theology. Something a small child would pester their rabbi or priest or imam or whatever about. But that was first glance.

Secondary seemed like it was flying too close to the sun.

Self-descriptive much?

God complex?

You slung an arm on your chair and settled back. A game? Is that was he was getting at?

“If the universe owed someone something, that would be antithetical. If you’re bargaining with a God, which is what it seems that you are proposing…Gods usually don’t answer you unless you give them a good offer first.” Your tongue clicked forward, you could feel your eyes making a push forward, widening.

You could play along.

“Are you making an offering to a deity? Dear professor…” You crossed your arms and leaned forward.

You saw something pass over his face. A trillion different micro-calculations. Several amused and several dark looks.

He swallowed.

What was his deal? You mused before trying a new string of words.

“Or are you the God here?” You blasphemed…pursing your lips. Biting the skin under them.

More emotions shot through his painfully attractive face. The lines on his face seemed to glimmer deeper.

He swallowed harder. A singular eyebrow arched up.

Seriously, those things were weapons.

“What if I am?” He breathed out.

“Does that make your students your devotees?” You pushed a bit further…

He slinked over to the chair and leaned forward. Fully turning his eyes unto your soul. “Oh, maybe you’d enjoy that.” He smoothed out his voice, directly into your mind. It seemed to echo into the corners of your skull. Vibrating.

You would enjoy it. Too much.

Your body and mind felt flushed and overheated. The office seemed to get as hot as a midsummer day on the beach.

“So, does the universe get what it’s owed, (y/n)?”

Your breathing quickened and your throat got dry. You reached (well more like flailed…) for your beverage. A big gulp, not breaking eye contact.

“Are you a devotee? To come worship at the altar?” He questioned further. Placing both of those incredible hands at the sides of the chair. Leaning further forward. His cool breath hitting your face. It smelled fresh. Not like good oral hygienic skills, but something foreign and strong. Striking, and a little addictive. You could spend the rest of your life trying to find a word to describe it further, or something to compare the scent to. It’s was…incredible. And maybe edible.

Barely two inches stayed between your noses. If you were a computer, you would have blue screened.

Your were human, and could afford no such luxury, sadly.

The pit of your stomach closed up.

An increasingly rare, but familiar throb coursed through you as warmth accelerated its way through your body. Rocking your core. Your heart was rocketing for the moon. You started to sweat. Literally.

You clenched yourself. Literally squeezed your legs together. To stop yourself from coming undone. From going deeper under this spell he cast on you.

But too late!

Far too late!

You already were becoming quite undone. Wet in more ways than just the sweat now forming on your brow and your back.

You knew what he was getting at. But didn’t want to conceded the victory to him…

Why did he make you buckle?

And more importantly, why did he seem to want you to buckle?

The trap was set, it was elaborate and elegant. He even provided drink and ambiance! How could you be so blind?

Especially you!

A shoe on the other foot…

You felt in a verbal checkmate.

“Maybe.” You choked out finally after a short eternity. Your heart raced faster still, threatening to break through it’s cage.

“Maybe isn’t good enough.” Another breath washed over your face. The gap between your noses closed to barely an inch.

You buckled…

Reblog to give your followers some cheesy garlic bread

Teacher's Pet part 3

Synopsis: The Doctor struggles with morality. The student is struggling. Both are tearing themselves up.

A/n: I'm sorry for the bit of pain. The next one should be a bit more pain, but it will get better soon. Also. These things are fun to bang out. Especially when you listen to dramatic early 2000s nu metal. Thank you all. Your response to this mean the world to me.

Utterly ashamed and indecent, the Doctor remarked to himself once (y/n) fled the office. He felt utterly indecent. Ashamed. He was shocked that even he could hold such an array of thoughts. Not that he didn’t have similar thoughts before. He had been married before. To multiple people, multiple times. He was the reason why the Virgin Queen wasn’t really a Virgin.

But to a student? No, he couldn’t. Even though this was a charade, he still felt bound to at least some of the rules a professor should follow…

And the scenarios his mind was running? Much more akin to something that his dear best enemy, locked in her Vault would have.

He kicked her out for her own good. Her obvious tone shift and body language change had clued him in to the fact that she picked up on it. The girl was very good at making connections, it seemed. Maybe not getting them in a correct or orderly manner. But she was no idiot. Despite what her brain, past educators, and experts had probably told her.

He knew all about various so-called learning disabilities and some honestly just seemed like evolutionary differences to give the species different roles throughout the tribes and flocks.

Once, before Rose. Before he swore to himself that he would run solo forevermore. He held the idea, the hypothesis: to take a random person from a random planet. Mold their life and bend it to his will. Make a perfect companion. One noble enough to save the day, but not stupid and caring enough to get themselves killed in an act of bravery. Like so many if his past ones.

He shuddered, thanking Rose in Pete’s world for saving him from himself…

But this one? He felt oddly returned to this idea. A perfect companion. This time shaped by her own insecurities. Not preconditions he would control. He admitted he was lonely.

Nardole and Missy didn’t really count.

He stopped himself there. Maybe Missy was rubbing off on him. Getting him to pry back into those darker, more primal urges.

He needed a breath of fresh air. A trip off-planet.

Just Missy’s influence, he shook himself as he meandered down to the mess hall to get a bit of scran before a trip to somewhere. Nothing more, nothing less. Relapse in it's most basic indulgences.

He found himself at the Eye of Orion. Just exactly what the Doctor ordered! Peace and solace. Stop what was shaking him up at the source.

Too bad that he was being plagued by thoughts of (y/n).

She was possessing him.

Clever, nervous, just a hint of something else. She came to the meeting with some sparkly gunk crusted to her eye corners and the residuals of make up being slapped on in layers.

The way she quickly diverted the topic when her work was mentioned slightly irked him. She didn’t elaborate, just a missed appointment and a shocked tone.

What did she do?

Another mystery girl to lure him out of his shell. The universe, in all of its infinite wisdom, loved tossing mystery women at him.

They always frustrated him to arousal. A stupid trait he felt he got from his days crushing over Missy when they were young lads. Back when he shielded everyone from the Drums until they drove him to madness and self-corruption.

Corruption…

That stupid past plot of his past self echoed again. It might be fun. She might be fairly easy to tip into it on her own accord.

He decided against it. Ultimately.

Missy’s influence. Damn it!

He leaned back on the patch of grass he was on. Trying to clear his mind. She was just another daft ape. Just a student for him to inspire to help along the way.

But her grins and demeanor wouldn’t leave him.

Her hunched over form, and the clanging of her jewelry and the way she used her hands to speak…

Was doing something to him. Awakening something he tried to kill.

He relaxed for a while more before returning. Nardole, of course, was exasperated that he went away. Especially without telling him beforehand…

He hadn’t felt this frantic since he was locked in the Confession Dial.

Back in his office, he had a queue of students waiting for Office Hours. Mainly droll questions about the mid-term project. (Mandatory by the university.) The other students sat in her seat, where she had spilled crumbs on. He engaged them. And got a kick out of them and their findings and research. There were a good batch of students in his classes this term.

The Doctor found delight in them and the thoughts of (y/n) went to back-burner.

Then Tuesday came. One of the two days the class (y/n) was in was.

He groaned.

Hopefully today whatever was abnormal faded. Maybe she’d not come. Some sort of survival instinct will have kicked in…

Of course. He wasn’t so lucky. He remembered her scribbled maths equations about her monetary investment in university. He doubted that she’d go and waste the nearly eighty pounds a singular class was costing her. It seemed out of character.

He, in bad faith, wished her ill enough to take off.

Too bad the universe rarely responded well to bargaining.

She slunk in in between the masses of people. As if to go incognito, to not draw his attention. She removed her notebook and got a pen out and slouched forward. He scanned the room as he opened up with his exciting build-upon on Thursday’s lecture. A poem from Robert Burns that tangentially related to the themes. She wasn’t making eye contact, instead she was chewing on the chain of one of her many necklaces. This particular one was the chain that held a pendant with a historical symbol. She was scribbling furiously. Her eyes squinted and she seemed to be muttering a tad bit under her breath. He didn’t want to admit how much he wanted to pry in. To hear. To understand. To respond. To feel.

“And fare thee weel, my only luve! And fare thee weel awhile! And I will come again, my luve, Though it were ten thousand mile.” He finished and then went on with a remark.

“Does the universe love us? Does it owe us?And if it does, why?” He opened up to the floor to discussion and debate.

Many responded, except for (y/n), who obviously was holding her tongue and trying to not make eye contact with anyone. Just focused in on writing and listening.

He could carve out a response from her.

“Miss (y/n’s surname)? What do you think, I think Braelynne made a fantastic point. Come, join us.”

(Y/n) spat out the chain and straightened up her posture. She had pen ink on her chin and looked, quite frankly like she’d leak tears.

She sniffled before speaking, a crack in her voice. “I think it’d be narcissistic to assume that the universe owes us anything. But does it love us? Maybe. It loves itself through us. Like, like, like, when we do tasks like help an elderly neighbor carry their groceries in. Or give a few coins to a homeless person. It’s the universe loving itself. Maybe it’s like when you drink something probiotic. To the germs in your gut…aren’t you the entire universe? I don’t know. I do think that thinking you, out of all creation, prioritizing yourself in the center of it….uhhh. Red flag!” She flustered, grabbing her pen and resuming the furious scratching she was making.

That gave the Doctor a world of insight to her brain, inner workings. Maybe she felt like she was owed something but held some remorse over these thoughts. It seemed conflicting in her punctuation and how hard she seemed to force the words out. Wise, beyond wise, but also leaving herself a tad bit shortsighted and a decided lack of grace.

Obviously she didn’t want to speak. Obviously she had plenty to occupy her mind with at that moment.

So he pursued via others, “Is it narcissistic to expect something when, by (y/n)’s standards, we’re bacteria and microbes in a greater gut system?”

Someone replied that it was reductive and put humans on the same levels as non-sentient life. That they had greater purposes. That the microbes’ lives were less vital than a human life. (Y/n) scrunched her nose in disgust at such a statement. Internal dissent.

Ah, he thought, very good. A measure of her morals.

He built on that. He opened up the topic, getting more opinions from the other student. Hoping she’d speak up…

He noticed (y/n) shoving her things into her bag and sniffling again. Maybe he did get what he earlier asked the universe for. Maybe she was sick. Maybe.

Ironic.

She made a beeline for the door, “Sorry. I have…an emergency.” She turned to him at the door. “I’ll get the notes from someone.” She promised. Her chest was beginning to visibly heave.

He nodded and she shot out of the room like a horse out of a gate.