ch: tenth


Requested Anonymously

The Doctor hadn’t imagined that you wearing a skirt would bother him so much. That’s not to say that he didn’t like it. He did like it. That was the problem - he liked it too much. It wasn’t even that short of a skirt, either. There wasn’t anything overly sexy or promiscuous about it. That, he would have been able to ignore. He had been ignoring flaunted sexuality all his lives (it never failed to make him uncomfortable), and it came easily to him at this point. But you weren’t flaunting anything. You were in a tasteful, flowing skirt that cut off right at the knee. It flared out a bit whenever you turned, giving just the slightest tease of your lower thigh, but there was no inappropriate exposure. None at all. It was perfectly perfect. But the Doctor was scared of it.

“Wait a minute. What are you dressed like that for?” he asked when you finally joined him in the console room. He immediately bit his tongue when he realized how he sounded, but… he really wanted to know why you were wearing that… thing. And heels. Oh, no, you were wearing heels. They weren’t especially tall and the wedge was hardly more than an inch, but this was more heel than he had ever seen you stand on.

You made a silly face at him in response, too accustomed to his non-ginger rudeness to be offended. “Is this alright for where we’re going? I’ll just change real quick if it’s not. I just never get to wear it.”

That’s right, you never got to wear it. (Forget the heels. Can’t run well in those, so they were out of the question.) The Doctor had never seen so much leg on you. You wore trousers, always, because you were smart enough to know that skirts were not for adventuring. Even in hot weather, though, you didn’t wear shorts. You just wore trousers with thinner material. Shorts were nice, but the idea of running through dense underbrush or stinging nettles or a bog with bare legs didn’t appeal to you, so you kept your legs safely covered. Until today.

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Imagine you and the Doctor finding yourselves in a winter wonderland. The two of you goof around the whole time, including an incident where you tried to slide on a frozen pond and fell on your butt. He laughs happily at your harmless tumble (gif), before moseying over to help you up. The second you’re steady, you attempt to push him backwards into the snow- and he drags you down with him. You guys proceed to roughhouse in the snow. At one point you rub snow in his soft hair, and at another he pulls of his coat just to throw it on you like a tent.

By the end of the experience, both of you are feeling pains in your sides from laughing too hard and your cheeks hurt from smiling for so long.


Anonymously requested.




“Uh-huh. Right. We can do that.”

You rolled your eyes. You understood that the Doctor couldn’t help getting distracted this way, but you couldn’t imagine what would happen in an emergency.

Only his shoes stuck out from under the console- he had, somehow, with his skinny little stick-body, wormed his way all the way into the tiny maintenance hatch. Nine never would have been able to do that, you thought, feeling a twinge of nostalgia for the Doctor’s previous incarnation. If the Doctor had taught you anything, it had been that the looks did not make the man, but you could help but miss those broad shoulders and strong, workman’s hands. Not that Ten wasn’t wonderful in his own way. You didn’t think it was fair that he got to be naturally skinny like that, but there was no point in whining about it, was there?


This time, he didn’t even bother responding, although you felt like you still deserved points because his foot did twitch. You smirked. Another thing you had learned, more from the TARDIS than the Doctor, was that a little mischief could go a long way if you wanted the Doctor to learn something. He was probably the only person you knew who needed a joke as lesson reinforcement, but if it worked for him, who were you to question it? What worked, worked, and you would use what you had to. Huh. You should write a book. ‘How to Train Your 900-and-Something-Year-Old Time Lord’ would be a big hit.

“Doctor, I’ve just finished dancing naked on Raxacoricofallapatorius, so I’m gonna go take a slime bath now. If you get hungry, I mixed ground glass in the jam jar.” There. That ought to do it.

“Yeah… sure thing….” Or not.

Exasperation irritably buzzed against your brain. Well, if he was going to be like that, it was time to bring out the big guns.

“… I love you.”

You had done things in your life that you regretted. Less, since you came aboard the TARDIS, but still. You knew that feeling of suddenly wishing, beyond all things, that you could roll back the clock and change something you had said or done. Everybody did. It was nothing special. And no, for your information, it is not unreasonable to try to will an event out of existence by the power of your mind. Yes, it is ridiculous, and no, it will not work, but yes, everyone does it. As are you, in this moment, even as you wondered what possessed you to say something so dangerous.

You know what? your mind reasoned, This is no big deal. Perfectly excusable. Friends tell friends that they love each other all the time. Sure, you’ve never done it with the Doctor, but you’ve got to start sometime, right? 

“Do you mean that?” the Doctor’s voice rang from inside the console, distorted and echoed.

Oh, of course, he hears that.

“Of course I do,” you said, and it was the truth. How he interpreted it was his business.

The Doctor, quick and agile, wriggled his way out of the console, coming out very rumpled with his tie thrown over his shoulder and his hair all fluffed out in that just-got-lucky manner that was going to drive you crazy now that you had noticed it.

You didn’t know if you were blushing, but it felt like you were, so you thought fast and said the most brilliant thing that your mind could come up with! “I think you lost a button in there.”

Smart. Very smart, that was. Bravo. In your defense, you were under a lot of- oh, whatever. It’s not my job to explain you to yourself. Figure it out on your own. We’re getting to the good part.

“What did you just say?” he asked, and you did not like the look in his eyes. That wide-eyed, unblinking, very, very brown stare that would drive you mad if you let it. And you had let it, you supposed. Falling in love with him had been the worst idea ever.

“I said you lost a button.”

The Doctor looked at himself and found that, despite what an idiot your were (that wasn’t what he was thinking, but I’m sure you know what I mean), you had spoken the truth: a button had popped off of his shirt.

“Oh, bother it, that’s-” the Doctor stilled, cutting himself off. “No!” he exclaimed, pointing at you (and if that didn’t make you flinch, well, then nothing did). “No distractions this time. You said you loved me.”

“Yes.” And another astounding bout of witty banter from your side. Point, match.

“Did you mean it?”

“Of course I meant it!” Shut up!

“Then why didn’t you say so before?!”

The Doctor surged forward faster than you could back away, and his lips crashed against yours.

Now, at this moment, I would like to give you a little privacy, seeing as it’s nobody else’s business that the Doctor kissed you until you were forced to break away for air, so let’s just say that he was rather… passionate about the exchange. As were you.

The Doctor laughed at you as you panted for air. He grinned, looking completely, utterly happy.

“You know,” he said, “we could have done that ages ago if you had just said. Did I mention I love you too?”

Imagine going into an overwhelmed rant to the Doctor. You vent about all the things you’re stressed about, school, work, drama, whatever’s on your mind. He listens quietly, making whatever face of disbelief he can conjure. When you’re finished, he gives you solid words of reassurance, even giving you tips on how to de-stress.

(Requested by @asydneysiderstudyer :))

A Study of the Day of Birth

Requested Anonymously.

So, this is slightly different from the request I got, but something about the idea really touched me, because I’ve spent birthdays alone and I kind of wrote this fic to… make myself feel better, really. I hope nobody minds that you’re basically reading me. Consider it a character study of myself. You’re getting to know your blogger, right?

The Doctor couldn’t remember the last time he had celebrated his own birthday. Why would he? Every time he hit a decade (more or less), he just poured himself a glass of apple juice and drank it out of a wine glass and that was that. No need to make a fuss. It was more to remind himself to keep track of time than anything (and wasn’t that ironic, being a Time Lord?). He had done it while you were with him, actually- you laughed, asked him why, he told you, and you drank apple juice with him. He couldn’t even remember his exact birthdate, actually, just the year, and the TARDIS had to keep track for him. He didn’t care either way.

But then there was you. You were young and bright. You didn’t have all that many years under your belt, and from the Doctor’s way of looking at things, you might as well celebrate them while they were still all shiny and new and they meant something.

You didn’t seem to agree.

“So, are you… excited?” the Doctor had asked.

“About what?” you said.

Your birthday was only a week away. It’s not as if you could have been that clueless, not really. So the Doctor deduced that you were feigning disinterest in order to downplay the situation. Some humans didn’t seem to like celebrating their birthdays. He hoped that you weren’t like that. But he didn’t say anything. No need to call you out for it, right? No, this called for something completely different.

So, whenever you went to bed, the Doctor stayed up and plotted. He knew how humans celebrated birthdays and he planned accordingly. He wanted to surprise you. He discovered that baking wasn’t something he was especially skilled at in this body- the cake would have to be commissioned. But it would be the best, for you. And the present? Something personal. This wasn’t superfluous ribbon-throwing, after all. He cared, and he wanted to show you that. So he picked the perfect gift. It was just a little thing, but you would appreciate the meaning. He knew you would. He wrapped it with care and tied a ribbon around it, and then it sat in his room, waiting for the big day.

And then the day came.

The Doctor was surprised when you emerged from your room fully clothed. You usually just came out in your pajamas to share breakfast with him before you got ready for the day. It was something he enjoyed. He liked how you looked in jimjams and a robe.

“What’s this?” he asked, gesturing to your clothes. Upon further examination, he realized you weren’t wearing and jewelry or a stitch of makeup. And your clothes weren’t the usual. You knew to dress appropriately for adventures. Jeans, running shoes, nothing too tight, etc. Comfortable but tough enough to take the run-for-your-life events that were always at risk of happening. Today, however, you wore sweatpants and a baggy sweater. You could have slept in those clothes. In fact, the only reason he knew that you didn’t was because they didn’t have a wrinkle on them. They were straight from the wardrobe.

“I need to go home,” you said plainly.

Fear spiked in the Doctor’s hearts. “W-what?”

“I’m not leaving,” you rushed to explain upon his frightened expression. “I just need to go home for tonight, that’s all. You can drop me of, travel to tomorrow, and pick me up again. It’ll only be a few minutes for you.” Then you glanced sideways, suddenly very interested in the console. “Unless you need a break from me. Take your time. As long as you pick me up tomorrow.”

“But today’s-…” The Doctor trailed off. You wanted to go home. You never asked to go home. And that meant that this was about your birthday, because that couldn’t be a coincidence. You had plans, then. Plans that you obviously didn’t want him around for. You didn’t want to spend your birthday with him. That was why you hadn’t mentioned it; pretended that you didn’t know a thing about it. Because you didn’t want him around for it.

Something inside the Doctor crunched painfully. He had thought that you were closer than this. That, maybe… maybe you… wanted more, from him. Your friendship had seemed so strong, so much better and brighter than friendship. He had thought…

It didn’t matter what he thought, though. Obviously. He was wrong.

“Right,” said the Doctor, tugging his ear. “Right. Sure. No problem. Only five minutes, eh? No problem. Over in no time.”

“Exactly,” you said, smiling at him, and he could see it was the emptiest smile you had ever given. That hurt.

The Doctor dropped you off with a curt goodbye and then proceeded to just… focus on breathing, for a few hours, because for some reason, breathing had become very difficult. It was a bit of a shock, really. The Doctor hadn’t realized that he was so attached to you that your passive rejection would break him so much. It’s not like… like you had been together and then decided to end it. This was just you not caring as much as he did.

Who was he kidding? If he weren’t so afraid, the Doctor could have asked you to marry him. His feelings certainly backed him up on that, and he couldn’t imagine, logically, a better partner. You were strong, and faithful, and you forgave each and every one of his flaws. You laughed with him, you cried with him, you stood by him and faced the fire. He wanted you, forever.

That did it.

The Doctor jerked the TARDIS out of the vortex and landed outside your home. Your birthday present was nestled in the bigger-on-the-inside pockets of his coat, and he pressed a hand to it just to remind himself that he had it as he used his sonic to unlock your front door.

He called out your name as he walked in, and immediately knew by the complete and utter silence that answered him that you weren’t at home. That seemed… wrong.

The Doctor glanced at the ticking clock on the wall and jerked in surprise. It was late. Nearly midnight. He had been so shaken up, he hadn’t even noticed how dark it was outside. What were you doing out so late? It was dark out there. Fine for him, but not so safe for you. Where could you possibly be?

A number of possible explanations came to mind, and each and every one of them made the Doctor feel sick. He didn’t want to think about any of them. HE didn’t want to think of you… out there.

The Doctor decided to wait an hour before he went looking for you. That seemed reasonable, didn’t it?

Shrugging of his coat and jacket, the Doctor bent down to take off his shoes. He had spent most of the week planning and plotting and running errands, and with the whole Raxicoricofallapatorius fiasco the week before, he hadn’t slept in exactly fourteen days. Not even a nap. That wasn’t healthy, not even for him. Some shut-eye, even if it was just for an hour, would do him good.

The Doctor grabbed a blanket and then curled up on your couch. Literally, curled, like a Time Lord cinnamon roll. And he was asleep in less than a minute.

You were prepared to awkwardly juggle your keys with your groceries in order to get into your house, but you found your door unlocked.

This was a potentially bad, bad thing, because you specifically remembered locking your door before you left.

You turned the knob as quietly as you could and nudged the door open with your foot. You pitied whoever had broken into your house, if anyone had broken into your house. You were, technically, armed.

Just as you were thinking this, your plans to possibly maim someone for breaking and entering flew out the window. There was no intruder in your house. Well, there was, but he was no burglar or the like. He was the Doctor, and he was asleep on your couch, and it was the cutest thing you had ever seen.

You dropped your keys, and they landed noiselessly on the rug below you while you fished your phone out of your pocket. No way were you going to pass this up. You turned off the phone’s flash and waited for the screen to focus…


The Doctor jerked awake as you congratulated yourself for capturing the perfect picture in only one try. He twisted around in the blanket he had already been folded in like origami. His eyes met yours, and you pressed your lips together in an effort not to laugh. He had bed-head. It was hilarious.

“Um…” You shrugged and not-so-discreetly kicked the front door shut behind you with your heel. “Didn’t expect you ‘til tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” The Doctor swallowed visibly, probably to get the husky sound of sleep out of his voice, and his eyes landed on the grocery back you were holding in your left hand. "What..?“

"I thought you were a burglar or something,” you said, shaking the bag at him. “I was gonna hit you with this. Could’ve bashed your nose in.”

The Doctor chuckled, but then quickly sobered. “Where have been?”

“Uh.” You walked over to the coffee table and set the bag down on it, and your shoulders ached in relief. It was a heavy bag. “Did y'know that wine glasses are usually sold in sets? I had no idea. Like, what if I want wine glasses that don’t all match? You don’t have to buy coffee mugs in sets. I think I want my wine glasses to be like my coffee mugs.”

You were rambling and you knew it, but maybe if you kept talking, the Doctor would be distracted.

You lifted two wine glasses out of the grocery bag. “So, it took me a long time to find these. The were discounted because they were both from broken sets and the sets didn’t match, so… I got two, just in case one broke.” You lifted your knee to tip the bag over and a gallon-container of apple juice thudded dully onto its side. “And I don’t need a gallon of this stuff, but it was cheap, so what the heck, right?”

“You…” The Doctor’s eyebrows drew close together as his mouth worked silently, until he found the words he wanted. “You were going to spend your birthday alone. You planned to spend your birthday alone.”

You didn’t answer.

Why?” he asked, completely confused.

“Well… I just… do. Although, I give you credit for the whole apple-juice-in-a-wine-glass thing,” you said, gesturing the wine glasses in your hand towards the tipped-over container of juice. “It’s kind of funny.”

The Doctor stared at you, and you stared back, silence making the room seem loud. You felt like a bug under a microscope. His eyes seemed to see everything. Superior Time Lord and all that. You examined him in kind, noting how naked he seemed with nothing over his shirt. He wasn’t even wearing his tie, you realized. It had been discarded on the table, while his jacket and coat were both neatly folded on the opposite end of the couch, with his shoes sitting on top. The Doctor himself was a mess- he was obviously one of those people who wiggled around in his sleep. It was cute, and if it weren’t for the uncomfortable atmosphere, you might have laughed about it.

Finally, the Doctor moved. He reached over to his coat, stuck his whole arm inside the pocket, and pulled out a brightly-wrapped box. Your stomach flipped. He had gotten you a birthday present. You didn’t even know that he knew about your birthday. 

“This is for you,” he said, as if it wasn’t obvious. He set it on the table next to the juice. “I wanted to surprise you for your birthday. Make a day of it. Take you somewhere special. I didn’t think about you making plans, or I would have said something.”

You ignored the present and stared, disbelieving. The Doctor, who only celebrated his birth  once every ten years, if even, had planned to surprise you for your birthday, which he shouldn’t even have known about. He got you a gift. He planned a special trip. And when he found out that you were going home, he actually slept in your house and waited just so he could give you your present.

(Stop sniffling. I’m not crying, you’re crying.)

Ignoring the present, you rushed to the couch and quickly snuggled yourself against his side. He immediately wrapped an arm around you and adjusted himself so that you reclined side-by-side. You fit against him perfectly- he made a pleased humming noise when he noticed, despite how startled he was.

“It’s nearly midnight,” he said, sounding mournful. You smiled against his shoulder. “Your birthday’s nearly over and you didn’t get to enjoy it at all.”

“I can celebrate tomorrow.”


“Doesn’t matter,” you said. You pushed yourself up and kissed his cheek, and you were pleased to see the blindingly brilliant smile the Doctor reacted with. "This is the best birthday present ever.“


Imagine playing Spaceopoly with the Doctor. He likes to pretend like he’s too cool for it by constantly rolling his eyes, but whenever ANYTHING happens he gets super riled up- either by yelling happily or screaming “NO”’s. Eventually you guys get a habit of playing it all the time.

(Requested by @be-cool259 :D I’ve never played Spaceopoly before, but here you go! :DD)


I stood about two blocks from where the TARDIS and the Doctor stood. I could see Donna Noble, the woman who had saved my life, talking to the Doctor. I could read her lips as she spoke. “I saved a little pest on my way back.” She joked and nodded her head in my direction. As he turned to see me tears instantly fell from my eyes. I saw him step out of the TARDIS and nearly stumble from disbelief. As if I were close to him, I could practically hear him whisper my name. “Y/N…” He trailed off. “Doctor…” I called. “Y/N!” He yelled as he began to run down the street. “DOCTOR!” I screamed back as I ran as well. It felt like a millennium before we finally found each other. Entangling ourselves in each others arms. “I thought I’d lost you.” He cried, not even trying to hide the shakiness in his voice, he reached down and kissed my forehead. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” I joked and we both laughed. Ten minutes later he smiled down at me. “Hello!” He joyed. “Hello.” I hummed back and knew I was safe once more.