cat of the tardis

Rhythm - 5

(part 1) | (part 2) | (part 3) | (part 4)

summary: you want her, you need her, and i’ll never be her
warnings: swearing
word count: 1524
a/n: so i was going to call this an epilogue but that’s not really fitting, so here’s part 5. this is the absolute last part to rhythm. thank you!!

Three months. It’s been three fucking months and living with Bucky Barnes is becoming harder by the day because that idiot won’t stop staring at you. Even still, he’s got a different girl on his arm (non-metal, of course), almost every night, and you know he’s picking them up from some bar down the road. (He can’t even get drunk, so what’s the point?) You also know that he’s trying real damn hard to make you jealous. (So fuck him for that.)

It’s not working.

(That’s a goddamn lie, but he doesn’t have to know.)

And the worst part? His sex life is loud. Again.

It’s seven in the morning and you’re in the kitchen making your second cup of coffee already because you’ve been up all night, no thanks to the sharp jaw-lined, blue-eyed, absolutely gorgeous bastard moaning in the room across from yours.

Speaking of– he walks into the room, shirtless (for the millionth time. You’re considering buying him t-shirts for Christmas because he seems to lack them in substantial amounts). His hair is tied in a messy bun, wisps of hair falling out and framing his face. His sweatpants are sitting lazily on his hips and if they were any lower, you’d–

You clear your throat and look away. You’ve been avoiding him since the incident. This is the first time you’ve been in the same vicinity for more than ten seconds, but the pot of coffee isn’t done brewing, so you’re stuck waiting, leaning against the counter with a poptart in your mouth

Bucky shuffles behind you, opening a couple cupboards, and then–

“The fuck?” You whirl around to look at him. “Who ate the last poptart?” Your eyes cross to glance at the poptart stuck between your teeth, and then back up at Bucky.


His glare is piercing and you can see the twitch in his jaw as he takes a deep breath. You smile at him, mouth full. Except– it’s wiped off your face when he opens the cupboard again and pulls out a box of cereal – your box of cereal. Then he’s smiling at you as he pours himself a bowl– a large fucking bowl – until the box is empty and you’re clenching your fists.

The coffee machine beeps and you take your cup of coffee and turn to leave, but Bucky stops you. “Y/N?” Then he’s sauntering up to you so that your back is against the counter again and he’s really, really close. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, and you can smell his shampoo and his toothpaste and– (and the cereal he’s holding really fucking close to your face).

You square up your shoulders and straighten your back and then look him in the eye. “What?” (Your voice is indignant but goddamn, your knees are weak and you’re really hoping he doesn’t notice how shallow your breathing’s becoming.)

“There’s a crumb on your face.” You give him a blank look and he touches the side of his own mouth. “Right here”

You swipe your hand across your mouth, and then blink up at him. “You couldn’t have said that from over there?”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s still there.”

You’re wiping again except Bucky’s eyes are on you and it’s making you really damn uncomfortable. “Is it gone yet?”

He shakes his head and lifts his flesh hand, fingers touching the side of your cheek, a feather light touch, and your heart stops for a moment, and then it’s beating twice as fast as his thumb swipes, so, so fucking slowly across the side of your mouth. You take in a shuddering breath as the tip of his thumb brushes your lips. And fuck, your mind flashes back to that night, when his hands were on your waist and his lips were on your neck and his hair was tangled between your finger and–

You push him back, hands lightly hovering on his hard, shirtless, warm chest, and then you’re pushing past him, finally leaving the kitchen with your cup of coffee in hand, leaving Bucky with his soggy cereal.

“He’s a dick, Nat”

Nat laughs as she gives you a hand and pulls you up. “Well I hate to tell you this, but I have to run and I asked him to finish training with you.”

No she fucking didn’t. “Are you serious?”

She laughs and nods. “Yeah, sorry, gotta go.” Then she’s booking it out of the room, not bothering to change, and you’re left in the sparring ring, groaning.

Barnes walks in, shirt tight as fuck (so he does own t-shirts) and you’re starting to think that he’s doing that on purpose, that absolute piece of shit. He enters the ring with that cocky walk that makes you want to do things to him that you really shouldn’t. You clench your teeth and tighten your gloves.

It’s different, training with him. He’s not as agile as Natasha, but he doesn’t fight defensive like her either. He’s quick to jab, quicker than you’d expected, and he moves forward so suddenly that your back is on the mat within minutes. You’re breathing heavy, sweating already, and Bucky’s standing above you with a triumphant grin. Except, he’s not much of a hand-to-hand combat person. He’s good, sure, but his arrogance is his weakness, at least in this situation. You glare up at him, and then–

Your feet swipe at his, and it seems to be almost slow motion: the surprise on his face and the widening of his eyes and the way his mouth opens when he falls.  On you.

His weight comes crushing down, pinning you to the mat, and fuck, he’s heavy. He’s warm and he’s breathing heavy and his face is in your neck and holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

Bucky lifts himself off of you, but only partially, so that he’s hovering over your face, resting on his elbow while his other hand encircles both your wrists, pushing them into the mat. His hips are still on yours and one leg of his is wedged between your two. You take in a shaky breath, because he’s closer than you can handle him and if he doesn’t fucking move you’re going to do something that you shouldn’t.

But Barnes is a bitch. He looks you, right in the fucking eyes, and then his gaze travels from your eyes, down your face to your lips, then back to your eyes. Then he leans in, and you swallow and you know that this is so fucking wrong and that you’ve told him that you aren’t going to be with him so soon and he has another girl waiting for him at the bar tonight but– your eyes close regardless, and your chest rises and falls rapidly, and you’re craving the feel of his lips, and–

“Two can play this game, doll,” Then he’s pushing up and off of you. He takes off his gloves and tosses them to the side before striding to the locker room.

For a moment you’re left standing there, watching his retreating back, then you’re throwing your own gloves off to the side and storming after him, walking at twice his pace. You grab his shoulders and jerk him around, roughly, then push him into the lockers.

He let’s out an “umphh,” but you muffle it with your lips on his, hands fisting into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. You’re kissing him with hot, feverish passion, and fuck, he’s kissing you back just as intensely, his hands travelling everywhere– your face, your hair, your waist – before latching onto the small of your back, thumbs digging into your hips as his pulls you flush against him.

He pulls away for a moment, surfacing to breathe, and he looks at you, really looks. Then he flips the two of you around, so that the lockers dig into your back, and then his lips are back, on your lips, then behind your ears, on your earlobe, down your jawline, onto your collarbone, and fuck. You swing your legs up and wrap them around his waist, hands circling his neck and disappearing into his locks and his lips come back to yours.

His teeth nibble on your bottom lip, fingers digging deeper into your waist, and you open your mouth with a gasp. It’s hot, in every sense of the word, and Bucky can feel it too, because his fingers fumble with the hem of your shirt, and torturously slowly, he begins to lift it up.

You pull away, swatting his hands away. “Not–“ you’re gasping for air, leaning back against the lockers. “Not here.”

“Fuck, Y/N.” He’s breathing heavy, gasping as much as you are, and you look up at him. He’s watching you, blue eyes wide and trained you, gaze so intense that there’s heat creeping up into your cheeks.

You rest your hands on his shoulders. “Hey, Buck?” He raises his eyebrows in question,  “If– if we’re gonna do this,” you pause, looking away. “There’s something you should know.”

His lips latch onto your collarbone again as you speak, and your voice drops down to a shaky whisper.

“You’re still a fucking jerk.”

Keep reading

That moment when you know you are parenting correctly :

When your 8 year old daughter wants to go into Hot Topic to look at the Alice in Wonderland merchandise…then squeals when she sees the Dr. Who stuff. Then grabs your hand to drag you to the Harry Potter section, and puts all the Captain America & Iron Man pops in the kissing positions. And finally leaves the store with a Tardis necklace, Cheshire Cat bow, & a Slytherin Prefect badge using all her birthday money & says “Worth it.”


Some houses in Salem! These are:

- The House of the Seven Gables. Not the original number of gables, but also not excessive. Just right.

- Allison’s house from the movie Hocus Pocus! Dance, dance, dance until you die!

- A nice historical marker.

- A purple house. 💜

- A tiny American TARDIS for cats, probably.

- A black house. 🖤

- The Witch House. It’s clearly labelled as my house, so I’m moving in.

Imagine Six landing on a planet of cats. He refuses to leave for several weeks, until Frobisher resorts to turning into a gigantic dog to scare them away until they leave. However, without Frobisher noticing, Six managed to smuggle several dozen into the TARDIS. The TARDIS accommodated by forming a cat room with the necessary nourishment, and the cats’ descendants still live in the current TARDIS, living comfortably inside.

Eleven Random Facts About Me

Rules: Tell your followers 11 random facts about yourself, and tag 11 people in return! Tag backs are allowed, but you mustn’t repeat any of the facts you mentioned previously. The facts can be absolutely anything! Whatever springs to mind! Allons-y! 

Thanks for tagging me, @jem-scribbles

1. I am a very precise person. I notice that especially in the way I write (I can’t stand typos or un-pretty formatting), text (even in text messages I keep an eye on grammar and spelling) or do work. I can never let myself do “just enough”. I don’t even know what “just enough” is and I feel terrible whilst knowing that I have not done everything I could have done… Sometimes I wind up in very stressful situations because of this perfectionism. 

2. I have a dog. A blonde labrador. His name is Jamie and I adore him ♥

3. I am part of the youth ensemble of the local theatre and we are currently starring in an opera. My second performance will be on Saturday, the first one was yesterday.

4. I am very interested in interior design. I love vintage-y hipster stuff, light colours and vintage prints that have inspiring quotes on them. 

5. I am currently studying media and communication science. In March I will start my fourth semester.

6. We recently moved to a very provincial town and I want to leave it again as soon as possible. There are so many things I despise about it - especially the fact that the place has absolutely nothing to offer in winter. Everything’s just grey and muddy and wet and makes me depressive. I call it February-depression. 

7. I am a vegetarian.

8. I can very easily think of movie and TV show quotes, I really am a walking dictionary of great and/or amusing quotes. Give me the beginning of a sentence and I am sure that in 70% of the cases, I can complete it with a quote. Challenge accepted! :) 

9. Uuuh… I don’t like it when people pet my hair because it’s very curly and very hard to tame.

10. Tonight I dreamed about some kind of goat-deer hybrids da-da-ing Offenbach’s Can Can and aggressively line dancing. Yup. 

11. Whenever someone gives me chocolate, I don’t store it in my room, I store it in the kitchen. Because I know that if I stored it in my room, I’d eat it in a day. The problem is just that someone always finds it in the kitchen at some point and… nibbles off a bit. Sigh. Will I ever learn?













Sorry if you’ve already been tagged, I hope you don’t mind :)

anonymous asked:

Immortal space girlfriends is the best way to end...everything but I once again find myself frustrated because I really want a show about Bill and Heather, just like I also really want a show about Clara and Ashildr

They meet up by accident and it works out great because after a few centuries Clara and Ashildr were finally forced to admit They Cannot Read The Fucking Manual And Do Not Know How To Fly The Ship, so Heather decides to help them out. They run into Jenny, who crashed her stolen spacecraft roughly 40 minutes after taking off seeing as she was only just born and had never flown before, and after they hear her story they realize they have to track the Doctor’s ass down for her. They keep following leads but always end up just missing him, and then get roped into helping out the people he just left, the situations ranging from ‘Children of Earth’ level catastrophes to ‘hey this man just toppled our government and ruined our economy before putting on sunglasses and leaving What Do We Do Now’. The girls start to build up their own huge doctor-like reputations, to the point where he eventually knows their looking for him and actively starts searching himself (on his own show, of course) but they still keep missing each other. Clara, Ashildr and Jenny are all horrendously stubborn backseat drivers and Heather’s always exasperated. Bill takes to her new powers the way Peter Quil takes to his in gotg2 and keeps making weird shit. At some point Clara runs into that hot cyborg guy from the Ocean’s 11 episode and he becomes a recurring character, only because Jenny’s banging him but they’re pretending nothing’s happening, like ‘fuck off Clara it’s not suspicious I’m in your TARDIS shirtless’, ‘yes it is Psi tell me what you’re doing here’, ‘we both know I have memory problems’, but that’s like the entirety of what he does. River Song occasionally cameos, alive or as a data ghost is up for debate, to give them some cryptic messages. Ashildr keeps her promise to look out for all the people the Doctor leaves behind so this show is like the place to be if you want an old companion cameo. A recurring plot for half a season is Clara being torn between Ashildr and Jane Austen. They don’t ever need a sonic screwdriver dues ex machina because Heather and Bill can literally control atoms. When one of the other girls get mad at Clara they hold eye contact with her while eating slowly and deliberately since she’s pissed she can’t eat anymore. Everyone always has amazing hair for no explainable reason and they always get real excited if they have to hit up a place that requires fancy dresses. Bill and Clara are both super into PDA but their respective girlfriends are a bit more shy and it’s fucking adorable. Jenny supplies a lot of the more angsty arcs because she’s really worried she’s never gonna find her father, and she doesn’t understand why he left her on Mesaline in the first place. A recurring theme in the show is What It Means To Be Human, as all of the girls are no longer that (two goddesses, one immortal, one dead girl, and one almost-time lord) and struggle with the repercussions/trying to remember. The two shows finally converge into each other with the girls finding the Doctor during the next big anniversary special, and who knows how that could actually go. They accidentally adopt a space cat™ and that causes a running gag because their TARDIS doesn’t like it. 

File It Under Unfinished Business

Fanfiction Contest Winner 2016

written by @badismyname

“Let me get this straight,” The Doctor is looking at you intently with those big brown eyes and adjusts his tie. “You just let it in?!” He points his arm emphatically at the Tardis door. “What if it gets caught up in something? Or gets lost?”

All you can do is wince at his tone of voice and look embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to. I heard a noise, I thought it was you. I just opened the door a sliver to peek out and then it ran in…” Your voice trails off and you give the Doctor the most innocent look you can muster. His eyes soften at the corners and he quirks a small smile.

“We’ll just have to find it then, won’t we?”

Phew… he wasn’t actually mad. You’ve seen the Doctor upset or sad, he could be dealt with then, but when he was mad you didn’t want to be on the receiving end. As many Daleks would attest if you could get past “Exterminate”.

The Doctor’s look turned more mischievous and he’s placed an index finger on your breastbone. “I’ll help you find it. But you let it in, so you have to catch it.” He removes his finger leaving tingles behind and you’re breathing quicker than you were before. Damnit, he has such an affect on you. Hopefully he won’t notice. You glance at him to check. His hands are already stuffed into his pockets and he’s strolling towards the stairs. “Come on. You’re not going to catch it standing around like that! Did you see which way it went?”


“Well, always up for an adventure, me.” The Doctor shrugs, dances down the stairs then out of sight.

Follow the Doctor, please. You will your legs to take steps forward. It was just a finger!

The Doctor calls back to you, “Did you happen to see what color it was?”


He sounds far off already but you’re sure that you hear him mumble, “Why does everything else get to be ginger?”

You follow the sound of clomping trainers and find him staring at a wall panel. It looks pretty innocuous to you but the Doctor whips out his sonic screwdriver and starts to scan. The blue light and familiar sound reminds you of the first time you met the Doctor. You smile inwardly. It seems like only yesterday he invited you into the Tardis. Yesterday and a million years ago. Almost quite literally.
You snap out of your reverie, quickly focusing your gaze back on him. Like always, he is still in his own mind trying to understand why the panel was panel. You can only speculate.

“Something wrong Doctor?”

He turns his head, squints an eye at you. “This panel is different. Different color, different texture.” He licks the panel. “Different taste. Why is this panel different from the rest?” He’s standing up straight now, pointing at the panel, looking at you for an answer.

“It looks that same as the others to me. Maybe you repaired it and don’t remember?” You offer, eyebrows raised. You purse your lips speculatively.
Did that really just happen? You are very sure the Doctor just looked you in the eye then at your lips then quickly looked away.

Now you’ve never said anything to the Doctor about the feelings you have for him. You weren’t sure if the feelings were mutual which is why you didn’t. That look though. Maybe you are thinking too much into things. You file that look under unfinished business, a file that was getting fatter by the day. Time for that later. You’ve got something to find and no time to think about odd looks from the Doctor.

He looks back at you and slips his screwdriver back into his suit pocket.

“Hmmm, I don’t trust things that don’t taste right. Especially when they’re in my Tardis.”

Trying to keep the Doctor from getting distracted again you grab him by the hand and begin tugging him down the corridor. “Come on, Doctor! Let’s get back to the weird tasting panel later. Right now, we’ve got a cat to find!”

You’re certain when you took the Doctor’s hand he smiled a smile he thought you wouldn’t see.

“Puss! Here puss!” The Doctor calls. You were both shouting down corridors looking for the small ginger cat that you’d accidentally let into the Tardis. He’d let your hand go a few junctions back somewhat reluctantly. You can still feel his warmth and the butterflies in your stomach from his close proximity. Thank your DNA you weren’t prone to blushing, you would still be red now if that were the case.

“Maybe we should go back to the control room? I don’t think it got this far into the Tardis and cats have a good sense of direction. It’ll not want to stay once it realises we don’t have any food.” You advise but the Doctor’s not even looking at you. He’s wandered ten feet away and is glaring at another wall panel. He’s definitely not just curious this time and now he’s licked it. And again. You really wish his tongue didn’t get around so much. Being jealous of inanimate objects was not very becoming.


He turns to you and points his sonic at the panel in an off-handed gesture, “This panel is exactly the same as the other. Same color, texture, and taste. They match only themselves and not the rest of the wall panels.” The Doctor starts pacing a little and runs his fingers through his already disheveled hair. “You could be right. I repaired it and I just don’t remember. But two that I don’t remember is more unlikely. If we find a third…” He says, walking down the hallway looking intently at walls, feeling each panel in turn.

“What about the cat?” You ask, following, taking a quick look at the panel the Doctor claimed looked different. It looked the same.

Focused on a panel and stroking his chin the Doctor says, “The cat…will…have…to wait.” He takes your hand in his and whisks you back the way you came.

You finally get back to the first different panel. You, regretfully, let go of the Doctor’s hand to steady yourself and catch your breath. He’s distracted by the panel. He’s so intense yet curious. That face makes your heart melt. While you’re busy being dreamy eyed and melty, the Doctor’s got your hand again running down another corridor in the opposite direction of the last. He’s looking more quickly, he now knows what he’s looking for. It’s really hard to concentrate on helping when he’s so close. His hand is warm but dry. Fingers long and thin but strong. You wanted him to do things with those hands. Feel his fingers on your cheek, his thumb sweep across your lip.

“Ah ha!” yells the Doctor, all teeth and eyes, and he stops up short. You very nearly run into him. He’s got his hands on the panel now, nowhere near you. Maybe he and the panel should get a room. You cross your arms, you look at the panel then back at the Doctor.

“I just don’t see it, Doctor. They all look the same.” You say crisply before you realise how childish you sound.

The Doctor stands up perfectly straight and doesn’t seem to notice your snark.

“You’re looking but you’re not seeing!” He gestures with his hands around his face frantically. Like the gestures could help you see. The Doctor really thought more of you than you thought of yourself. But you are sure they all look the same.

TRY harder. For the Doctor. You look back at the panel he had been inspecting and focus. The color was a bit different. More blue than the surrounding walls. So subtle that you would miss it if you weren’t paying attention and happen to be concentrating on the Doctor’s hands instead.

You place your hand on the different panel and one next to it. The blue panel had a slight ribbed texture to it where the regular panel was smooth.

“Taste it.” The Doctor says.

“Oh, no. I’m not putting my tongue on that. It’s different. I can tell now without licking it.”

“Myah well,” he rubs his neck, looking maybe a bit disappointed. “That’s three panels in my Tardis that are not of my making. Where did they come from?” (He’s got his crazed face on now.) “Why are they here? Who put them there? Why are they almost exactly the same but different enough for me to notice if I just looked a bit harder?” The Doctors head snaps around. “And would I have found them if we weren’t looking for that cat?”

“Maybe we should find out how many more of those panels there are, Doctor?”
“Right then. Allons-y!”

There were fifteen blue panels set oddly about in the walls of the Tardis.
Once you put your mind on the task and away from your infatuation with the Doctor you were pretty helpful. Being helpful to the Doctor made you feel good. He’d held your hand three more times and he’d talked you into licking a wall. Even though you were concentrating on being helpful, you couldn’t quite turn all your feelings off. That worked to his advantage, not yours. Hence the wall licking. Damn him and his stupid eyes.

The wall did have an odd taste. Like rotten eggs or sulphur. Through all your panel investigating, you still hadn’t found the cat. You tried to get the Doctor call it Heathcliff instead of the cat but he refused. He said he would call it by it’s name when the cat gave it to him. Because he spoke cat. The know-it-all.

There didn’t seem to be any connection in the positioning of the panels in relation to each other, the Tardis, or in the collection of oddities they contained. They were made of the same material the other panels were made of according to the scans he’d done. Now back in the control room, the Doctor was leaning over the console speaking out loud mostly to himself trying to make sense of it, ticking (which slowly turned to banging) off each thought.

“Sulphur, blue, textured….fifteen. Four evenly spaced down one corridor. Two facing each other. One close to the control room. Five at the ends of five separate corridors. And three in dead ends. Where’s the connection!?” The Doctor is looking flustered and he kicks his foot against the floor. You wish you could help him but what could your puny brain possibly conceive that a 900 year old Time Lord couldn’t?

“Maybe there isn’t one?” You speculate and it’s definitely a question not a statement.

He turns towards you and his eyes focus,

“What did you say?”

“I said maybe there isn’t one. A connection in relation to the Tardis. Maybe they’re just random anomalies.”

The Doctor takes three steps and has you by the shoulders. He’s shaking you in an affectionately excited way.

“Brilliant. You’re brilliant. Not the anomalies part but the random in relation to the Tardis part. You can’t get it all right but brilliant.”

Before you can smile at him for calling you brilliant, his lips are on yours. What seems like an eternity passes and as your body finally decides to respond and relax into the kiss it’s over. The Doctor’s pulling you back down the stairs into the first corridor to the panel closest to the control room.

You file that kiss with the rest of the unfinished business.

You’re breathless from running around rechecking all the panels. And from that kiss. The Doctor kissed you for being brilliant. Put that away for later.
Their positioning on the ship was random so he had to figure out what else connected them. All the panels you and the Doctor checked together, he noticed the texture was the difference. Each went in a different direction, created a different pattern. The one closest to the control room pointed up in an arrow motif. The two facing each other were horizontal lines. The four in the same corridor were swirls; two to the right, two to the left. The Doctor was checking the five at the ends of the corridors and he sent you to check the ones at the dead ends.

The first one you checked was a diagonal from left to right. The second was the opposite. You’ve been searching for the third dead end but it’s not where you remember it being. It was definitely 10 steps past the four way junction but it’s much farther down now. 30 steps. Huh. Maybe you missed counted. There had been a lot of hand holding going on at the time.

Walking up to the panel, you place your palms flat and feel the ribbing. Interesting. This one, following the pattern, felt like a teardrop. Pointed at the top, ballooning out at the bottom. You wonder what the Doctor would make of the panels. They were almost like a puzzle that needed to be put together. Maybe it was. You’ll suggest that to him when you get back.


As you turn to the sound, you see a little ginger cat rubbing it’s cheek against the corner of the entryway. You didn’t get a great look at it when it ran into the Tardis but now you could see how desperately cute the thing is. It couldn’t be more than a few months old and so fluffy.

“Oh aren’t you adorable. Come her kitty.” You try to entice it over with your fingers and a soft voice. It takes a few tentative steps towards you and attacks your fingers playfully. After a few moments of play, you scoop the cat up cradling it like a baby and scratch it on the head. While you are gushing over the little fuzz ball you think you hear the Doctor calling your name but it’s far off.

“Doctor? Is that you?” You call back down the corridor.

The Doctor turns right around the corner from the corridor on the left and his face contorts from frantic concern to wide with relief. He steps forward hurriedly, looks like he’s about to hug you but sees the cat. He takes your shoulders instead (a little put out).

“Where have you been?”

“I did what you asked me to do. Checked the panels and I just so happen to also find the cat.”

“But you’ve been gone for five hours.”

“Well that doesn’t make any sense. I couldn’t’ve been more than half an hour. You told me to be quick.” You say a little defensively. You had two tasks and managed to kill two birds with one stone in no more than 30 minutes. You were sure. He still had his hands on you and his eyes now looked worried.

“You have been gone for five hours….I was very worried about you.” He says quietly. You can feel the tickle of his breath on your cheeks, his lips are so close to yours. The Doctor’s eyes are pools of dark water you’re drowning in and you want to. Maybe now was the time to bring up that unfinished business. Better he should know than not, right? Either way he felt, he would be more conscientious about how he acted towards you in the future. That could mean no more random you’re brilliant kisses but it could also be the exact opposite. You can make the choice. Break the surface or let yourself sink deeper…

“I think it’s a puzzle.” Coward.

“What?” His hands drop away from you.

“The panels, I think they might be puzzle pieces.” 

Just like that, the magic was broken. He is back to pacing the corridor thinking about what you’d just said.

“Let’s get back to the control room. I need you to tell me what those other panels look like and see if your theory is correct.” The Doctor says sternly walking back the way he came. “Bring the cat.”

Crowley. The Doctor said the cat’s name was Crowley. You would know if you spoke cat. The name sounded familiar but couldn’t quite remember where from. You explained to him in detail what your panels looked like but before he could tell you about his five he got distracted. Now, he was on the floor playing with tiny little Crowley looking the definition of adorable. If you looked up the word in the dictionary there would be a picture of the Doctor playing with a ginger kitten. It bounced around his ankles chasing the loose laces, catching them and trying to run off with its prey only for the lace to rebound back home when it reached the maximum length. The Doctor was laughing and his eyes sparkled with delight.

“Oh we’re just going to have to keep you, won’t we? You brilliant little thing.”
The Doctor scooped up the kitten, looked up at you his face full of child-like wonder, “Shouldn’t we?”

“I think Crowley would make a great addition to our family, Doctor,” you say smiling at him from a few feet away. You would have liked to be sitting closer but the view was better here and you could more easily hide your staring.

“Do you mean that?” The Doctor’s face turned a bit serious. He stood, kitten in hand, suit crumpled from his time on the floor.

“Of course! Every Tardis should have a cat.” You chuckle trying to soften that look but it turned even more serious.

“No. Not that. The part about us being a family?” He looked down at Crowley and his voice was quiet. He was so uncharacteristically quiet you weren’t sure what to do. His shoulders shook a bit and when he turned his head back up to you there were tears glistening in his eyes. “I was so worried about you today. I couldn’t even imagine what had happened. I yelled your name and you didn’t answer. I was about to start tearing out walls before I finally found you.” He set the kitten down on the console (you note that it promptly found a warm spot near the center and fell asleep) takes a few steps towards you before stopping within arms reach. “You are like family to me.”

Now it’s your turn to look down.

“Sure, sure. Like a kid sister, right? That you have watch over, protect.”

He puts a knuckle under your chin, thumb just below your lip and lifts your face to look at him. “Not like a sister. Did that kiss not mean anything to you?” The tears in his eyes are on the verge of falling, his heart is wide open.

If only you could’ve seen inside his head. All that unfinished business you filed away for later has been tossed into the air of your mind now and you don’t know where to start. The looks, the smiles, the hand holding, the kiss. He was trying to be subtle, feel you out. The Doctor’s thrown caution to the wind and he’s looking at you with those deep dark orbs waiting for an answer. You’re finding it hard to take a deep breath. The Doctor’s seen so much, he carried so much sadness. He’s laid his heart on the table with a few words and a look. You always hoped but never dare say and now he’s giving you your chance because he feels the same and doesn’t know. The Doctor wants you and he doesn’t even know you want him back.

Say Something! Anything! Start Somewhere. Anywhere.

“Everything. That kiss meant everything to me.”

The Doctor’s hand slides to your cheek, his kiss is soft and sweet. You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You can feel the muscles of his back through his suit. A little moan escapes your lips. The Doctor returns it with what could only be described as a growl, and the kiss deepens.

Unnecessary questions start to pop into your head. What about the weird panels? What about the time lapse? What about the cat? SHUT UP! You are just going to have to figure that stuff out later. The Doctor will remember too, eventually. There are much more important things going on right now that need all your attention and you did not plan on letting anything interrupt this moment.

I am absolutely delighted by this fic. There’s marvelous romantic tension, which is probably one of the best things to have in an imagine, or in any story with romance, really. Using present tense is nice for emotional pieces, especially when they had suspense, so that was a great judgment call on writing style. The cat was a cute touch. The mystery of the panels is excellent, mostly because I don’t have a single clue of what the answer could be, which is one of the better options in mystery. In my personal opinion, there are two options in mystery that work really well. The first option is the one seen here, which is to give clues that don’t tell the reader anything until you get to the end, when the final connection is made. The other option is to give clues that are potentially misleading, so that the reader thinks they have it all figured out until you surprise them with a completely different explanation than what they were expecting. This is an excellent balance of mystery and romance, and I hope to see a continuation very soon.