Changes Pt 1 - Scott McCall X Reader

Changes pt 1 - Scott McCall x Reader

Pairing: Scott x Reader

Prompt: None!~ Just came to me brahh

Warning: NONE! 

ENJOY!!

*****

If it’s one thing the pack was sure of it was that you were very much like Stiles’ long lost twin. Stiles had even insisted you call him big brother, though you refused. However if anyone could match the rambling of said hyperactive spaz it was you.

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See You Now, Saw You Then

Tenth Doctor x Reader x Eleventh Doctor One-Shot

Summary: Time travel is always a bit unpredictable, and you’re never totally sure where you’re gonna end up. Travelling with the Doctor had made you prepare for many scenarios, but never one where his future self would be the one to declare that he adores you, before your own Doctor could.

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Super Strange Things Masterlist

Updated: August 24, 2020

Chapters are currently under on-going construction.

Pairing: Johnathan Byers x Reader

Summary: Y/N Winchester, middle child of John and Mary Winchester, arrives in Hawking’s with her family to investigate a series of disappearances and hearsay of a strange, faceless monster, along with a girl who can supposedly move things with her mind.

Chapter One: Super Strange Things

Chapter Two: Not Exactly the Scooby Gang 

Chapter Three: I Don’t Give A Damn ‘Bout My Bad Reputation

Chapter Four: Is This Real Life or Is This Just Fantasy 

Chapter Five: The Body in the Quarry

Chapter Six: The Monster in the Wall

Chapter Seven: Dream Weaver

Chapter Eight: Conspiracy Theories

guilty pleasures | thomas

word count; 7902

summary; thomas is still reeling over his break up, before meeting newt’s new roommate, and his perspective changes entirely.

notes; ha, enjoy. very little plot here. pretty much just an emotional mess for Tommy. bit of an AU because, y’know, why not? 

warnings; smut.

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❝ love is a choice ❞ chapter xii

summary: what was meant to be a simple, calm trip to an intergalactic museum ended up becoming a a trip through memories the doctor rather wanted to forget. only they weren't her memories. they were yours.

pairing: thirteenth doctor x reader (primary), eleventh doctor x reader

word count: 5.0k

warnings: bad past relationships

author's note: welcome to the chapter that i have been WAITING FOR!! i've had this chapter in mind for months and now there time is finally here!! that being said, i am very, very sorry for what you are about to read

The dance club melted away. The interior of the Williams-Pond living room came into view. The four of you were sitting on the couch in front of the television, a bad reality show playing at full volume. You rested a bowl of custard on your lap, all of you dipping cod fish fingers into it to recreate the first dish she consumed (and enjoyed because there were many she ate and despised) when she regenerated into her eleventh face.

“Yeah,” the Doctor nodded. “It’s okay.”

“What are you all doing?” Ryan questioned in reference to the food the four of you were sharing.

“We,” The Doctor prepped for the inevitable confusion/disgust. “Are eating fish fingers and custard.”

“You’re eating what and what?” Yaz gasped while Graham quietly gagged.

“Fish fingers and custard, I’ll have you know, is an absolute delicacy!”

The Doctor turned her back to them with a mask of indignation. Really, she just wanted to have a moment to herself before the storm that was about to happen in front of them. Every moment after that dance was one more moment towards the last day the Doctor had with you. Your time together was almost like a hill. The journey up was long, arduous, but from the top, you feel invincible—all it takes is a single misstep for you to tumble down the other side.

“If I had a restaurant,” The Doctor mumbled with a mouthful of fish fingers. “This would be all I’d serve.” 

“Yeah right,” Amy scoffed. “You running a restaurant.”

“I’ve run restaurants before. Who do you think invented the Yorkshire pudding?” 

Rory chuckled at first, but then his face loosened with realization. “You didn’t.” 

The Doctor held a fish finger covered in a massive dollop of custard. “Pudding yet savory. Sound familiar?” 

The four of you were meant to observe the black cubes that were scattered around almost an entire year ago. In all that time, they’d done nothing but end up as paperweights or something to throw into the trash when you don’t have the space anymore. After day 113, you had about given up on trying to figure them out in favor of maintaining your sanity. 

“Mr. Pond,” Amy took the bowl from the Doctor’s hand when it was practically empty. “Come help me put these away?” 

You saw her plan before it was even fully in motion. Amy wasn’t as slick as she liked to think, but she was definitely as persistent as she made herself out to be. 

You hadn’t told the Doctor how you felt yet. In that time, though, you’d gotten better at being around him without your tongue becoming lead in your mouth. Every so often, you’d fumble through a conversation by the skin of your teeth, but those interactions were becoming far and few between. You’d even gotten back into your routine of going at each other’s throats, only to you, it felt less feral and more playful. You were happy with what you had with him, platonic or otherwise.

Regardless of your contentment with your relationship with the Doctor, you knew that Amy was not. She took any and every chance she got to let you know that you needed to get it together and tell him. If there was even the possibility of a moment where she could get the two of you alone, she manipulated the scene so that she had the two of you right where she wanted you. At that time, she was forcing Rory and herself out of the room so they could “clean the dishes together” as if it wasn’t an easy, one-person task. Most times, though, those manipulations ended in failure. Either you chickened out or the Doctor couldn't stand by you long enough for you to get a word out.

“Well,” The Doctor said with an abrupt jump off the couch. “I should get going. I told Kate that I would discuss the cubes again with her soon.” 

“Do you have to go just yet? I mean, the cubes haven’t done anything, right?” You pretended to be blasé about it, but you really wanted him to stay a few extra moments. “And they still have a couple contestants left if you wanna, you know, finish watching before you have to go.”

The Doctor looked like he was contemplating his next move before returning to his place next to you. “Alright, I suppose I can stay until the end of the episode. You know, I’m really starting to see the appeal of these reality TV shows. They’re all so... real! With real people and real things that happen to those real people!” 

You sucked in a large breath through your teeth, “I hate to break it to you, Doctor, but most of those shows are scripted. The people are real but…”

The Doctor’s face practically fell, and a pang of slight guilt filled your system, “Really? Even the American one with the dancing children and the mean lady?” 

“I think the trauma from that show was real, just not the drama.”

“Oh, look at you,” The Doctor rejoiced with a clap. “Rhyming! I must be wearing off on you, aren’t I? Next thing you know, you’ll be making those puns you hate so much.” 

“Oh, shut it,” You giggled, pressing your shoulder to his in a show of affection. “I don’t hate puns, I just hate yours.” 

“So you say, but I think that you’re starting to like starshine!” The Doctor surmised. 

If you admitted that you really were starting to like that nickname, the Doctor would never let you hear the end of it. If he found out that it made your heart beat just a little bit faster, he would boast until something else gathered his attention, then continue once he remembered. Sometimes you weighed the cost of having to live with the bragging against without, just so you could hear the nickname just a bit more. Pride overruled your choice in the end.  

“Did you really invent the Yorkshire pudding? Or are you just messing again?” You asked out of genuine curiosity and a hint of attempted diversion. 

“No, I really did! I also made the popsicles but some child from California beat me to the patent,” The Doctor’s tone got surprisingly serious for a beat. “I still hold a grudge against Frank Epperson to this very day.” 

That same desire to learn more about the Doctor reappeared after its short-lived dormancy. Instead of the interest in the Doctor’s sad past, you wanted to know the small things. All the times the Doctor said something outlandish, you would brush it off as another one of his idiosyncrasies. Now, you would be happy with any little piece you could get. “What else have you done, huh? What? Were you D.B. Cooper too? Banksy?” 

“I actually was Banksy, yes, so you can be sure that these cubes weren’t me.”

Graham gasped, “You weren’t kidding about that?”

“Seriously?” You gaped. “We’ve known each other– what? Eight years now?” 

“And what a wonderful eight years it’s been!” The Doctor exclaimed, trying to keep the sadness at bay. 

Despite having spent so much time together in the past year, what with the cubes and all, you knew that the Doctor was starting to miss the three of you. He was beginning to understand that your adventures wouldn’t be as frequent as they had once been. Adulthood, real adulthood with bills and jobs and responsibilities, crept up on you. You weren’t able to drop everything at the sound of the TARDIS’s engines to galavant across alien planets. It sucked, but that was just the reality of your situation. 

That being said, you were a little bit okay with the cubes appearing on Earth. It meant that the Doctor wasn’t popping off in his box to fly away for however many months, only to return with the offer of meeting Stevie Nicks in the 70s. He was there, present, with all of you in all your adulthood glory. He was impatient as all hell during your time together, but he stayed. Even if it was just for a year, which in the grand scheme of his life was nothing more than a blip, it meant a lot to you. 

“And in those eight years you didn’t tell us any of this?” 

“Well, who knows?” The Doctor shrugged. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you all of it. Maybe even get into my time as a ghostwriter for Nancy Drew! And at one point the Rainbow Magic series but please do not give that information to anyone.”

“Don’t worry I won’t,” You laughed. Your hand inched towards the Doctor’s, and from the corner of your eye, you could see that the Doctor noticed. His hand remained where it had been and stayed there when you put yours on his. “And I would really like to hear all of it one day.”

The Doctor’s fingers stilled in yours but didn’t make a move to retract them. You watched as they shifted beneath yours. His thumb brushed against the back of your hand, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

You’d fallen into the trap that Amy and River had set for you. Both of them telling you that the Doctor had feelings for you made you believe it too. So did how you and the Doctor danced together that night at Club Tredecim. When he relaxed in your arms, when you felt the beat of his hearts against your chest, it felt right.

You considered that you were deluding yourself; love can do that to a person. But even if you were wrong, you would rather be that than live with the thought of what might have been, even if it would hurt like hell. You wanted to choose to love the Doctor, and you hoped that if he felt the same, he would choose to love you back.

“Listen, I-” But you didn’t want to talk anymore. Maybe the term 'now or never' was obsolete when you're a time traveler, but...

Your lips just barely ghosted the Doctor’s. They were soft, warm, and completely different from how you thought they’d feel. They also weren’t moving.

It was incredibly difficult to peel your lips from the Doctor’s. Not because you loved the kiss, even though you did- but because you already knew what you would see when you pulled away: the Doctor, his face contorted in an expression of shock, confusion, and the emotion that broke you as much as it might him, sorrow.

The Doctor’s mouth did that thing, the thing where it bobbed like a fish. You used to love that face. It meant that you were able to catch the Doctor with something that not even he could predict. And to see it right there in front of you meant that he didn’t see this coming. It meant that he didn’t feel what you felt. You made a mistake. This was wrong. You were wrong.

“I-” You could feel your heart trying to crawl up your throat. “S-Shit, I- I thought that- I wasn’t- Fuck, I’m so sorry-”

“Y/N, plea-” Why did it hurt more for him to use your real name?

“No, don’t! D-Don’t, um, I- I should go-!”

You were scrambling in every sense. You were struggling to rip the blanket the four of you shared from your body. It clung to you, the fabric sticking to your skin like a fucking parasite. When you finally managed, you couldn’t even jam your shoes on without almost tripping over the rug while doing it. And all the while, you were just saying words in no particular order. Whatever came to mind first, you said it. It didn’t matter if it made sense. Nothing needed to, because nothing did. 

“W-Wow, so, I’m just- Gotta- I should- I’m so sorry,” The tears had already reached your chin, but you didn’t even remember feeling them until one dropped onto your hand. You frantically wiped it off with the sleeve of your jacket that you were heaving on. “I knew I didn’t- Why would I deserve it-?” 

“Hey, wait, don’t say-” 

“I should’ve just left it alone- Shit! Where the fuck are my keys?” You cried out. 

“What’s going-” Amy came out from the kitchen following the sudden eruption of noise. 

“Sorry!” You babbled so that Amy didn’t have enough time to take in the situation. “It’s, um, work emergency!” 

“What-? But-” 

“Gotta go, I love you! Amy! I love you, Amy!” 

You didn’t wait for Amy’s reply but heard her shout at the Doctor through the door, “What did you do?” 

The isolation of your car only brought you mild security. You didn’t feel any kind of safety until you sped down the street, further and further away from Amy’s house and the fucking blue box parked out front. Even looking at her, the roof especially, was like looking at a treasured photograph, scratched and yellowed with age. 

You knew you shouldn’t have been driving in those conditions. People got into accidents over lesser things than the inability to see through tears. You slowed to a halt in an empty parking space by the pavement. You felt bad for whoever lived in the houses surrounding you because if they looked outside their window, they’d see someone with tears streaking their cheeks. Someone hunched over the wheel while trying just to get a proper breath into their lungs.

Colors began to blur together, like sidewalk chalk in the rain. You couldn’t see any shapes through the screen of your tears, and the lines of the book you were trying to read were nothing but black blobs. Eventually, you just gave up trying to hold them back and slammed the book shut. 

You squeezed your eyes tightly to push the building salt water out faster. If you forced them out, maybe you could be done and over with this crying fest. Even though people didn’t often come to the lake at this time, there was still the risk of someone deciding to have a sunset date. The last thing you wanted was for some people to walk up on you having a breakdown. It wasn’t even finals week yet, so you had no excuse, really. 

The lake was always the one place on campus where you felt safe. You always sat in the pink chair because it gave you the best west-facing view for when the sun went down. 

You could think there. Breathe. And you needed nothing more than to take several thousand deep breaths after the afternoon that you had. 

The day hadn’t started so horrible, but when you were meant to meet up with your partner, you’d been ambushed with a conversation that you really didn’t want to have in the student lounge. When you had asked to go somewhere perhaps a little quieter, he refused, saying that if you did, you would find some excuse to rush off. You’d say that you had a huge essay due in the morning that couldn’t wait or that your professor’s office hours were going to be over soon. Worst of all was that he might have been right. 

You’d hoped that going to your favorite spot might give your mind a little more clarity, but it was still cluttered with the exact words from him that repeated over and over. 

“Excuse- Ow!” 

One word from an unknown source, and you sprang into action. The book you’d closed was suddenly launched at your unsuspecting target. You didn’t even see his face before he crumpled to the ground after a direct hit to the forehead. You only caught a quick glimpse of gray hair before your adrenaline died, and reason was resurrected. 

You’d just fucking hit an old guy.

Regret flooded through you in an instant. “Oh, my- Shit! Fuck, I’m so sorry, sir!” 

You ran towards the man to help him up, but he was already rising to his feet. 

“It-It’s alright!” His voice was heavy with an accent. What was it? You were so discombobulated, but it was right on the top of your tongue. 

“I’m sorry, I-I just got scared!” Was it Irish? 

“It’s quite fine, I assure-” Or one from Yorkshire? 

“I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?” Geordie? 

“No, not at all,” Oh. Oh, how could you miss it? Your own best friend was Scottish, you should’ve been able to spot that from a mile away. “Really, I’m alright. Are you?” 

You blinked blankly, “What?” 

“Well, I was coming here to see the, um, the sunset. A colleague of mine who works here says it’s one of the most gorgeous sights they’ve ever seen,” The man explained with a few fatigued huffs. “Wanted to see it for myself, but… I heard you crying.” 

“Oh,” You said before breaking off into a groan. You slapped the palms of your hands to your face, the tears that weren’t even dry yet seeping into your skin. “Oh, that’s so nice of you. And I hit you with a book, oh my God!”

“Really, I’m fine,” The man brushed off some of the sand from his jacket, which you noticed was torn at the left shoulder. He saw you eyeing the rip, “Ah, this. I was– well, I was trying to grab some nuggets from the cafeteria. Apparently the volleyball players on the women’s team are pretty aggressive when it comes to those.” 

You hesitantly snickered, “They’re pretty vicious, aren’t they?” 

“Indeed,” The man agreed. He pulled out a black wallet with an ID inside. He presented it to you for a few seconds before stuffing it into his pocket. “Dr. John Smith. I lecture at St. Luke’s University in Bristol. I’m here for a conference but just, you know, wanted to see the lake.” 

“I bet you didn’t expect to be attacked twice,” You murmured guiltily. “I’m Y/N, I’m just a student here. I should let you-” 

“You never answered my question.” 

You noted a slight shaking in his legs while he uprighted himself. “Do you wanna sit down?” 

Dr. Smith mentally weighed his options but eventually followed you to the array of painted wooden beach chairs dug deep into the sand.

“So,” Dr. Smith started once he was seated in the yellow chair next to yours. “What’s got you so upset?” 

You bit your bottom lip while trying to think of how to say this. You were never the best at these kinds of things, but you hoped that talking to someone with no prior opinion of you– if you overlooked throwing a hardcover novel at his head– might make it a little easier. “I don't know. Nothing big, just… love? I guess? Or lack of, maybe?” 

“Ahh, love,” Dr. Smith sighed dolefully. “I know all about that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Of course,” He shrugged passively. “I’ve lived a long life. I’ve fallen in love many times, but… Well, there’s always one that sticks with you, isn’t there? Sometimes, it’s your first love and others will be the one you lost. But there’s always one.” 

You weren’t sure if you had had that yet. Yeah, there were romances that you looked at fondly, but you couldn’t pinpoint the one that stuck out above the rest. If you had to, you might say this one. So far, it’s been the one that left you the most hollowed out once it was over. You hoped that would change someday. 

“I’ll tell you my tragic love story if you tell me yours.” 

You instantly wanted to put the words back into your mouth. This man was a complete stranger to you. You couldn’t just say shit like that and expect him to– 

Dr. Smith was laughing. And it didn’t seem like he was shocked by your retort, not at all. He was laughing like someone who would expect this kind of behavior from you, not some ignorant to your dry wit. “O-Okay! I’ll take you up on that. 

“There was someone. A long time ago. We both traveled together, you see. At first, we didn’t like each other. We were always fighting, driving our friends who traveled with us to the brink of madness. But then that was because we were so similar. Too similar. The two of us might as well have been mirrors of one another. And that… I think that made both of us terrified. More so myself than them- I'm not so sure about that now- but that was because I knew they could hurt me… One look at them smiling the brightest I’d ever seen them and I knew. So, I started running. Then they did too. We ran in opposite directions to the point that when I finally decided I could turn around… I couldn’t see them anymore. I’d lost them.” 

“That sounds like something I would do. Well, I guess it sounds like something I have done,” You swallowed the cry that was building in your throat. Dr. Smith was waiting patiently next to you, but you could sense his anticipation. “Running, I mean. That’s kinda how my last relationship ended. And some of my other ones too. We were close to getting real, I think. We were talking about after graduation and life and it just… I started throwing myself into my work. He said that I was doing it because I was afraid. That I was a coward, because I was trying to get away. Then, he said that…” 

This was the blow that took you down. “That I deserve to be alone.” 

You knew it wasn’t true, but it didn’t mean that those words didn’t try to tattoo themselves into your insides. The more you kept repeating it, the faster the ink dried. You were so desperately trying to stop yourself, but it wasn’t like the human brain was adept at listening to commands. 

“And I know he was just mad-!” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Dr. Smith interrupted. “No one deserves to be alone. No one deserves to be told that. Whoever told you that is a complete idiot. A total moron! Should be ashamed of himself!” 

“But he wasn’t wrong. At least, not about me being scared.” 

The truth was that this was a pattern, and one you didn’t even mean to continue. Most times, when you got like this, the relationship fizzled out on its own, like a campfire that didn’t get poked enough. This was the first one that ended up in an explosion with fiery debris. You’d felt horrible on all accounts, regardless of whether or not the end was incendiary, but you didn’t have to confront yourself with your inadequacies until someone pointed them out. You didn’t have to force yourself to come to the conclusion that you really were terrified.

“I had a friend once who said that love was a choice,” Dr. Smith began. His eyes remained fixed on the water, but you could see he was more present than he wanted to appear. “She had said it to my star… Well, suffice it to say that I spent a very long time trying to figure out what that meant. If I could have chosen not to love them, I would. It might have saved us both the pain. But then, I understood. You choose love despite the pain, because there always will be in the end. As dark as that sounds, it’s true. And I’ll always… I’ll always wonder how things might have been different if I made another decision.” 

That was really a beautiful way to look at it… But was it actually that easy? It didn’t feel like the entirety of love could be defined as something someone can choose. When you were with some of your exes, you didn’t feel like there was any decision to make. There was only one option in front of you, and it was one you were comfortable making time and time again. 

Maybe you just hadn’t found a love worth choosing yet. That was a nice thought. 

“Do you still love them?” You spotted the lack of a ring on his left hand. 

Dr. Smith smiled wistfully, “I do.” 

“Do you know if they’re still out there?” You wondered. 

“I haven’t seen them in years,” Dr. Smith shook his head woefully. “They’re gone from my life.” 

“Mmm,” You hummed. “Not gone then.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“They might still be out there. By some beautiful miracle, it might not be too late to reconcile. I know it’s probably just hopefulness but… Hope is a good thing, isn’t it?” 

Dr. Smith smiled, reaching his eyes, “That it is.” 

“Do you know what I think?” You asked gently.  

“What’s that?” 

“I think that if life ever hands you that miracle and you get the chance to see them again, you should tell them– nothing else! You should tell them ‘I choose to love you.’” 

Dr. Smith pulled his eyes away from the lake to look at you. His eyes were questioning, but you would understand that his words were not. He said back, “I choose to love you.” 

“Exactly!” You nodded excitedly. “They’ll understand, I just know it.” 

You heard someone shout your name from the direction of the dorms. You recognized it as your roommate’s but made no move to respond. She could wait one moment. 

“Aren’t you going to go see your friend?” He asked with a slight head nod but not looking away. 

His question went unanswered. You rolled out of your chair and dropped to your knees beside the arm of his chair. For a moment, you stared at him. You look in every curled lock of wild gray hair, every wrinkle, every speck of color inside the blue of his eyes beneath those bushy brows. Your hand fell delicately against the apple of his cheeks, sunken slightly from age. His skin wasn’t soft like it had been before, but it was a welcoming sensation all the same. 

“It was him,” You whispered. “Wasn’t it?” 

"Maybe," Dr. Smith- the Doctor acknowledged. 

"I should've noticed," You chastised yourself, your lips curled into themselves to keep a sob inside. It didn't work. "I-I should've noticed that it was him. I know him… I just… I should have known it was him that day and maybe…" 

The Doctor brought his hand to yours. It felt so different from the Doctor you knew, but then, you'd never touched this Doctor's hand. You wouldn't ever really know what it felt like. You'd have to be content with only the idea of how it might have been to hold his hand. "Give yourself some credit. You were hurting." 

He was so much older. You knew the Doctor had completely different faces when he regenerated, but this… If it weren't for the eyes, and if it weren't for the gift of memory, you never would have even known. You might have lived the rest of your life thinking that this man was no more than a stranger passing by. Perhaps the Doctor just got his timing wrong again. 

You had seen the Doctor’s previous faces. You remembered how all eleven of them looked, and this one never appeared in TARDIS files. This face was new. He must have regenerated into him. And that meant there were probably years worth of things that he’d gone through. You wanted to know what those things were, who he’d met, but you needed to know if he had been alone through it all. You couldn’t be there, but you prayed upon the stars that he forsook his stubbornness and offered companionship to some lucky girl despite everything you said. 

“He looks so tired.” 

You heard your roommate again, this time more insistent. You couldn’t stay in this moment forever. That’s what she said, without having to say more than your name. 

“Just… can I hear him say it before I go?” 

You would never see this face again, and you only wanted to hear him call you, “Starshine.” 

Trying to bite back a choked, pathetic mixture of a laugh and a cry and failing, you lowered yourself back into your seat to the exact position you’d been in before. Even when you slipped back into the ignorance of the memory, the imprint of his cheek against your hand wouldn’t leave you. You turned your head to see your roommate with bags from the cafeteria. In an act of kindness, she said she’d grab you both dinner and some ice cream to dig into from the convenience store. “That’s my friend. I should–” 

When you looked back to tell Dr. Smith you needed to go, the yellow beach chair was empty. You didn’t see him anywhere nearby, and there didn’t even seem to be any trace that he was there with you at all; it was like he had just up and vanished. 

“Hey!” Your roommate greeted you. Her eyebrows furrowed at your concerned expression. “Everything alright?” 

“Um,” The fresh tears that weren’t there at the time dripped into the corner of your mouth. The saltiness tasted like regret. “Y-Yeah. Fine. So, what’d you get?”

“That lake…” Graham muttered. “I know that lake. I’ve seen it before.”

“Gamma Pictoris,” Yaz stated, turning to the Doctor. “You accidentally took us there when we were trying to get to Gamma Pictoris. We went to the wrong place. This place.”

“It was just as beautiful as they said it was… The TARDIS took me there,” The Doctor began, not looking at anyone. “Right before I transformed into this face… I guess it was a good thing I was already going through the regeneration process because that book really hurt!”

She was laughing, but there was nothing comedic in her smile. There was centuries of grief for the love that she never got to save. When she looked at the face before this one, she saw it in his smile too. All that mourning, but never really knowing what for. Because the worst part about losing you was that there was no finality. She’d lost so many before you and more after, but she knew where they were. Even if it was in death… or abandonment, she knew.

In some wry, cruel fashion, the Doctor never had an ending with you.

“Guess she took me there to remind me.”

“Remind you of what, Doc?” Graham asked.

To keep looking for that ending. “I have to make a phone call.”

The Doctor rushed to her feet, making a swift exit while the emerging image of Manhattan appeared behind the glass.

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Malia: so I guess we’re together for this mission

Stiles: wait

Stiles: does that mean Lydia and Y/N are working together?

Malia: yeah

Stiles:

Stiles: you don’t understand, do you?

Stiles: with Lydia’s natural knowledge in, well, everything and Y/N’s absolute zero interest in following the rules, they are the perfect team for world wide destruction

Malia: so what you’re saying is…?

Stiles: oh we can relax. there is no way in hell they need our backup. Theo’s pack’s in deep shit