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avengersnthings · 4 years

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26 Going On 16 (Peter Parker x Reader)

Request: 🕸 How about Peter is standing at the altar but not as the groom. He always had feelings for (Name) but never got to tell her, in fear of putting them in trouble. After (Name) marries someone else, Peter makes a stop by his apartment to collect himself before going to the party-now regretting not telling (Name) his feelings. He lays on his couch before falling asleep and when he wakes up, discovers that he's a teen again in his old room and he hears (Name) knocking on his door to wake up. When he looks at his phone to see the date, he notices two things. One, (Name) was single because they still hadn’t meet their spouse and two, Peter realized that he had a second chance with (Name). So pretty much a “13 going on 30” type of thing but only reversed plus a twist.

Requested By: Anonymous

Word Count: 3,311

Warnings: Angst, maybe like one swear word

A/N: I know I haven’t written in a very long time, but I finally wanted to write something and I received this AMAZING request! I loved writing this and got a little carried away, I wrote a bit more than what the request asked for. I couldn’t help myself! Plus, I think this is the longest piece of work I’ve written! Well, I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. **gif not mine, found it on Google. Creds to the creator!**

Tag List: @mp938368 @generalantiope @thatgirlsar @jumperswellies @quicksoldier @kitkatgaming @marvelfandom-stuff @itsmaytimetosaygoodbye @agentraven007 @marvelgoateecollection @thaniya82 @thats-so-rhyan @hymnofthevalkyrie @themcuhasruinedme @themanwiththemetalarm @mslaufeyson @thisismysecrethappyplace @jackiehollanderr @nayr9e @shaydeevee-blog @mxria-hill @littlelonewolfgirl

MASTERLIST

Peter’s heart raced inside his chest. He couldn’t believe that today was finally here. There he stood, up at the altar, decked out in a tuxedo with light blue flowers pinned to his lapel. He could feel his palms growing sweaty as the entire congregation turned their heads towards the back of the small church. Peter quickly wiped his palms against his pant leg, trying to rid himself of the excess moisture. Slowly, everyone in the pews rose at once, the piano singing out the first few notes. Then, it happened, the church doors swung open to reveal the most beautiful thing in the world: you.

You were absolutely stunning, of course. An absolute vision in white, the dress almost matching your radiant smile. Peter could feel the tears begin to pool in his eyes, but he took a deep breath to calm himself. He wouldn’t allow himself to cry. He wouldn’t waste a single second on tears that would cloud his vision of you. You slowly marched down the aisle, train billowing behind you as your father led you towards the altar with you on his arm. Your eyes met Peter’s, and your smile seemed to grow even wider once you saw your best friend. Climbing the steps of the altar, you threw Peter a wink. Peter couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled out of his chest. You were perfect.

“Wish me luck,” you mouthed the words to Peter as your father placed a kiss on her cheek.

“Good luck,” He mouthed back, this time unable to hold back the tears any longer. Peter watched your father take your hand and place it in the open palm of your intended. He took your hand as he led you closer to where the officiant stood.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” You giggled, before turning back towards Peter. He could have sworn that his heart was going to leap out of his chest. You looked even more beautiful up close, your rouged lips curling into a smile that you reserved only for Peter- his smile. “Can you hold these for me?”

All he could do was nod, taking the beautiful bouquet of light blue flowers from your manicured hand. Quickly, he brushed his fingers against yours to feel the smoothness of your hand. That very hand that would clean his wounds after he hurt himself during some battle, protecting the citizens of New York from the newest threat. Your touch threw him back into a long distant memory, of when you both were in high school.

“Peter, I swear you are like a magnet for trouble. How did you hurt yourself this time?” You teased, leading your best friend through your house towards the bathroom where you routinely patched him up.

“Some guys in an alley,” Peter winced at the stinging sensation of the rubbing alcohol touching the cut on his face. You mumbled a small “sorry,” and continued to clean out the wound. “They were trying to mess with this old lady.” The lie fell easily from his lips. He was getting better at this, hiding the fact that he was Spider-Man. Well, it wasn’t really a full lie, he thought. It did happen in an alley, it just wasn’t some guys that beat him up. It was rather a new eight-armed doctor that was a recent thorn in the side of Spider-Man.

“While I appreciate you being all chivalrous trying to save some old lady, but you should have called the police, Peter. You aren’t as tough as you think. You could’ve got really hurt,” Your words were chastising, but Peter knew the only reason was because you cared for him.

“I know, I’ll be safer this time. Promise,” He held out his pinky finger, and waited for you to wrap yours around his. Sighing, you placed the bandage over his cut before intertwining yours with his. Your lips curved into a smile- his smile- before grabbing onto his hand.

“C’mon, we’ve got Calculus homework calling our name.”

The booming voice of the officiant is what pulled Peter from his reverie. “I now pronounce you Husband and Wife. You may kiss the Bride.”

No! Peter yelled in his mind. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. He was the one supposed to be up there with you, front and center, not off to the side holding your bouquet. He was the one supposed to be kissing you, sealing your hearts together in matrimony, not him. It all happened so fast, your fiancé- now husband (Peter blanched at the word)- leaned forward and captured your lips in his. All Peter could do was stand off to the side in shock as the church erupted in applause and congratulations for the happy couple. Time seemed to slow around him and he remained frozen in his place as you and your husband raced down the aisle, eager to start your new life together.

Where did it all go wrong?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter had a few hours until the reception, and he didn’t feel like celebrating. While the rest of the wedding party went out for drinks, Peter instead slinked away, complaining of a headache that wasn’t there. He promised the rest of the party that he would be back in plenty of time for the reception, he was just going to head back to his apartment for a few hours and take a quick nap to get rid of the headache.

“Don’t be gone too long, the party can’t start without the Man of Honor!” Some bridesmaid giggled, already on her second glass of champagne. Where she got it, Peter didn’t know. He didn’t care. He just wanted to be by himself.

The drive back to his apartment was uneventful. It would have been quicker if he just swung through the city with his webs, but he didn’t want to be quick. He wanted to drag out his time before he had to return to being the happy and dutiful Man of Honor for the girl of his dreams. No, Peter wanted to go back to his apartment, have a stiff drink, and pass out for a few hours of blissful nothingness.

Key turning in the lock, Peter was finally home. Kicking off his shoes, he sat on his couch. Peter felt nothing but pity and regret. For the past ten years, he has been in love with his best friend, but he was too much of a coward to admit it. He had all the time in the world to tell you his feelings before your now husband walked into your life. He even had time after that to admit his feelings to you. Hell, he even had time during the ceremony to yell “Stop! (Y/N), don’t marry him! He’s not right for you, but I am! I’m in love with you and have been for ten years, marry me instead!”

It was too late now, and it will always be too late for him. Peter could feel the bile rise in his throat at the thought of never being with you, and he almost ran to the bathroom, afraid he was about to be sick. Instead, his head pounded not with a headache, but rather with “what if’s.” Groaning, Peter flung himself back onto his couch, throwing his arm over his eyes. Instead of thinking about you marrying the wrong man and him being too much of a coward to tell you his feelings, Peter succumbed to the welcome darkness of sleep. At least there, in his dreams, he could be with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pounding on the door is what woke him up. Peter groaned, wanting to fall back asleep and avoid all of his problems. It was easier than having to go to the reception and pretend to be happy that you were married to the wrong man.

“Peter, wake up!” Your voice called from behind his door, followed by more pounding. “We are going to be late for school! If I get one more tardy, I am going to get detention and it will be all your fault!”

Peter’s eyes flashed wide open before he bolted upright on his couch. Rather, his bed, as the sight of his childhood bedroom in May’s apartment filled his view. Confusion swam through his head as he scrambled off the bed, legs entangling in his sheets, causing him to fall out of his small twin-sized bed.

“Did you just fall out of bed, Peter? Are you even up yet? C’mon, dude, Mr. Green is going to kill me for missing Calculus again!” Your voice shouted through the wood once more.

“Ye-yeah, I’m coming! Just give me a second!” Peter called back, shocked at the sound coming from his mouth. Gone was the deeper voice he earned after going through years of puberty. Instead, he discovered that his voice was higher-pitched and cracked regularly. What was going on?

Peter stuck his hand under his bed, fishing for his phone amongst the dirty laundry that was shoved under. His fingers found the old cracked phone that he used to own. Turning it on, Peter’s brows furrowed and then shot up once he noticed the date on the screen. 2017?

“How can this be happening?” Peter mumbled quietly to himself, dropping his phone and carding his fingers through his hair. Somehow, and he didn’t know how, Peter was back to being 16 and was no longer a 26-year old. Just like that, it was like the past ten years- or, the future ten years- no longer existed. Was this some time-fluke? Did one of the Avengers mess up the space-time continuum and reversed time by ten years? Or was this all a dream? Did you really just get married?

Peter stopped in his tracks. If he was 16 and back in his old room, then that would mean that you too are 16. That meant that you hadn’t gone off to college yet and met your fiancé. You never met him and never started dating him and never got engaged and never got married.

“I still have my chance,” Peter whispered to himself, a smile erupting onto his face. He couldn’t believe it! Somehow, by some miracle or accident, Peter was 16 and still had his chance. This time, he wouldn’t mess it up. No, he would get it right this time. He will tell you that he is Spider-Man. He will tell you his true feelings. He will pick you up and kiss you and say “I love you.”

“Peter, I swear if you don’t come out of your room in one minute I am leaving without you!” You yelled, pounding on the door.

Peter snapped out of his realizations and stood up. He was going to tell you right this minute because nothing else in the whole world mattered more than you right now. His hand found the door knob and he yanked his door open, a little too hard, and took the door off its hinges.

“Peter, oh my God, what did you do?!” You exclaimed, motioning to the now broken door in his hands. There you were, right in front of him, just as beautiful as ever. Your hair was longer, like it used to be when you were in high school, and you had your backpack slung over your shoulders.

“Doesn’t matter,” Peter breathed out before letting go of the door and taking you in his arms. He pulled you tightly into his chest, squeezing you to him as he nuzzled his face into your hair. You smelled of your favorite shampoo, and Peter wanted to hold on to you forever.

“Dude, you just yanked your door off its hinges! May is going to flip!” You admonished, slightly confused as to what was happening. You circled your arms around his waist and hugged him back. “Are you okay? You’re acting weird, despite the fact that you just broke your door.”

“I am absolutely perfect,” Peter grinned, pulling back so he could look into your confused and worried eyes.

“Are you sure? You’re not taking any steroids or drugs, right? Because a person just can’t do what you just did.”

“I’m not on any drugs, I promise. I’m so glad to see you,” He couldn’t stop smiling.

“Okay, something is definitely wrong. Are you sick?” You asked, putting your hand onto his forehead to check his temperature.

“No, I’m not sick,” Peter grabbed your hand that was resting on his forehead. Instead, he interlaced his fingers with yours. “I am absolutely, one hundred percent, positively okay. (Y/N), I love you.”

“Love you too, Pete,” You dismissed his weird outburst. “Do you need to stay home from school? I can tell Mr. Green and get your homework for you-”

“(Y/N), will you stop and just listen to me?” Peter interrupted, before taking a deep breath. “Look, I haven’t been completely honest with you these past few years. For one, I’m Spider-Man. Second-”

“You’re WHAT?” You were the one to interrupt this time, your eyes growing to the size of dinner plates.

“Yes, I’m Spider-Man,” Peter flicked out his wrist and his web-shooter appeared, hidden underneath his sweatshirt. Webs sprayed against the wall to prove his point, and your eyes somehow got even wider. “I’ll explain more and answer your questions later, but right now I have something more important to tell you.”

“More important than revealing that you are a superhero?”

“Yes, now please listen,” Peter took both of your hands in his and looked into your eyes. “(Y/N), I love you. Not just as a friend loving another friend, but something more than that. I love you like Romeo loves Juliet. I love you like no best friend should. I love you in the way that makes me want to sweep you off your feet and take you out on cheesy dates and hold your hand and comfort you when you cry and kiss you whenever I want. (Y/N), I’m in love with you.”

Peter waited for your response, but you just stood there in shock. Your eyes darted across his face, as if you were reading a book, trying to understand the words that were just spoken to you. “Please, say something.”

“So, what you’re saying is that you love me?” You whispered, meeting his eyes.

“Very much so, yes,” He smiled nervously. “More than you could ever know.”

“Oh. Well that changes things.”

Peter could feel his heart drop the very pits of his stomach. He could feel his face fall too, and went to let go of your hands.

“No, wait!” You quickly held onto his hands tighter. “You misunderstood. It changes things because I love you too, more than a best friend should, and I never thought that you liked me and was too nervous to tell you and-”

Just like that, Peter’s heart soared from the deepest pits of his stomach. Holding your face between his hands, Peter stopped your rambling by crashing his lips on yours. He carded your fingers through your hair, pulling you as close to him as he could. It felt like Peter had been drowning his entire life, or atleast the past/future ten years, but as soon as your lips touched his, it was like he could finally breathe. He couldn’t believe it, you were here in his arms, kissing him back as if your life depended on it.

“I love you so much, (Y/N),” Peter broke away once the need for oxygen was too great.

Looking up into his eyes, you placed your smooth hand against his cheek, drawing him back in for another kiss. “I love you too, Peter.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter was beyond nervous. He could feel his heart racing in his chest as guests milled about in the pews. Peter stood at the altar, bouncing from foot to foot as he tried to calm his nerves.

“Would you calm down, kid? You look like a little kid that really has to pee,” Tony said from behind, clasping a hand on his shoulder. A small amount of relief washed over Peter as he hugged Tony.

“I’m just too nervous, Mr. Stark. And excited,” Peter nervously chuckled as Tony clapped him on the back.

“Don’t be, you have your whole life ahead of you. This is the beginning of a new chapter in your life, and you will be so much happier. I know I am,” Tony reassured as Pepper walked towards them, towing little Morgan behind her.

“Someone wanted to say good luck,” Pepper smiled as she let go of Morgan’s hand. Morgan ran up to Peter, throwing herself into his waiting arms.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be in the back with the flowers?” Peter joked, balancing Morgan on his hip.

“I needed to tell you something,” Morgan giggled. “It’s a secret.”

“Oh yeah?” Peter quirked up an eyebrow. “I’m all ears.”

Morgan leaned in and cupped her tiny hands around her mouth so that no one else would hear what she had to say. “She looks very pretty, like a princess.”

He couldn’t help the blush that began to rise to his cheeks when he imagined you in your dress. “She does?”

“Mhm,” Morgan nodded, before scrambling down from Peter’s arms. “I’ll bring her to you!” And just like that, Morgan bolted down the aisle in her little flower girl dress to await your arrival.

“Well, that’s my cue,” Pepper sighed before enveloping Peter in a hug. “She really is beautiful.”

“See you on the other side, kid,” Tony smiled as he followed his little family.

Just then, May sidled up next to her nephew. “Your mom and dad would be so proud of you. Your uncle, too.”

“Aw, c’mon, May. No sad tears,” Peter enveloped his aunt in his arms as she tried to hide her tears.

“They aren’t sad tears, they’re happy ones,” May sniffled, dabbing under her eyes so she doesn’t ruin her makeup. “I am so proud of you, Peter, and so happy for you. She is absolutely perfect for you.”

“I hope I’m perfect for her,” Peter nervously laughed.

“Don’t be silly, of course you are,” May gently hit his shoulder. Just then, everyone seemed to settle into their spots and the pianist took her seat. “It’s time. Good luck.”

“Thanks, May,” Peter smiled, facing the doors of the church. Slowly, everyone in the pews rose and faced the doors, and the pianist began to play. Then, it happened, the church doors swung open to reveal the most beautiful thing in the world: you.

This time, Peter wasn’t standing off to the side as you marched towards the altar. No, this time he was right in the center as he watched the love of his life walk towards him. You were absolutely incredible, more stunning than the last time, whatever that was. Peter never did figure out if it was a time fluke or just a very, very bad dream. He didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were walking towards him in a beautiful white gown, smiling the smile that was only reserved for him.

He couldn’t help the tears that decided to stream down his face. Once your father handed him your hand, he lost it. The only thing that consoled him was the fact that you were crying too, as the two of you walked towards the altar.

“Good luck,” You mouthed the words to him, squeezing his hand as the two of you took your places before the officiant.

Peter didn’t need luck, not today. He was already the luckiest man in the world to call you his, and now, he was making you his for the rest of time. Instead, he mouthed the words “I love you,” as the officiant began the ceremony that would begin the rest of his life with you.

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sheliesshattered · 4 years

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The Message

Doctor Who fanfic, 3200 words. Post s12e03 Orphan 55. Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswald, Thirteenth Doctor/Clara Oswald. Hurt-comfort and the Doctor’s mardy mood. Posted under the same title and username on AO3.

The Message

“Doctor?” Yaz said, trying to keep out of her voice any trepidation over breaking the quiet of the console room.

“Hm?” the Doctor said, not looking up from screen on the console that she’d been glued to for the last hour or more. Yaz clenched her teeth but tried to push her annoyance away. At least she’d responded at all, which was a marginal improvement from her behaviour of the last day or two.

Ryan and Graham had eventually tired of her terse silences and retreated to the deeper, cozier parts of the TARDIS, but some nagging feeling had kept Yaz in the console room with the Doctor, though she had hardly even acknowledged her presence.

If Yasmin had thought things had been bad after their run-in with the Master, it’d only gotten worse following their misadventure on Orphan 55. The Doctor’s mood had fallen further, souring in a way that Yaz struggled to understand. Gone was her cheerful, bubbly friend, and she wasn’t at all sure about the woman who remained.

But she was still the Doctor, she’d argued with herself, half a dozen times already. Still the same woman she would follow to the end of the universe and beyond. Just because she was in a strop didn’t mean she wasn’t her, and Yasmin wouldn’t be much of a friend if she let her faith waver any time the Doctor was a bit moody. Or so she kept trying to convince herself.

Besides, the thing she needed to talk to the Doctor about was actually starting to genuinely worry her. “There’s a light on the console, just there,” she said, pointing. “It’s been blinking the last several days. Never seen it do that before.”

“Yep,” the Doctor said, still pretending her attention was completely absorbed in whatever it was she was browsing on the galactic hub.

“Should it be doing that?”

The Doctor sighed noisily. “It’s just a light, Yaz. It’s built to flash. That’s its sole purpose in existing.”

“Doesn’t it mean something, though?”

“Usually does.”

Yaz clenched her teeth again. “Something bad, I mean?” All things considered, she’d managed to keep her voice impressively neutral.

“Why would it mean something bad?” the Doctor demanded, finally looking up from the screen in front of her. Where once that question might have come with a curious, confused tone, now she just sounded annoyed, maybe even offended.

“Well, on a car, a light blinking like that usually means refuel or check engine or whatever.”

“Right, because the TARDIS is so much like a car,” the Doctor said sarcastically, turning back to the monitor.

Maybe she just needed to come at this from a different direction, Yaz thought, struggling for patience. “Why’d it just start doing it recently?”

The Doctor was quiet for a long moment, and Yaz started to wonder if she was going to end the conversation by simply refusing to answer. “It’s like a blinking light on an answerphone — no, wait, you’re too young to remember answerphones. It just means I have a message, that’s all.”

“I understand what voicemail is, Doctor,” she replied, and oh, there was some of her own tetchiness that she’d been trying to keep under wraps. “Why haven’t you listened to it?” she asked, smoothing out her tone.

“Haven’t you ever ignored a message you’d rather not see?”

“I suppose,” Yaz said. “But curiosity usually gets to me in the end, even if it’s someone I’d rather not hear from.”

“Keep that curiosity then, Yaz,” the Doctor said, clearly a dismissal. “It’ll serve you well.”

“And where’s your curiosity gone?” she snarked back before she could stop herself.

The Doctor looked up from the console screen again, leveling a look at Yaz, her eyes ancient and unamused. Yaz stared her down, despite the chill creeping up her spine, until finally the Doctor shook her head and dropped her gaze back to the monitor. “That’s the TARDIS-to-TARDIS messaging system,” she said, her voice grudgingly more open. “So far as I know, there are only two other TARDISes still out there, besides mine. And I don’t particularly want to talk to the pilots of either. And if curiosity wants to try having a staring contest with me, we can check back in in a century or so and see which of us is winning.”

Bit Wicked Witch of the West, but you get the gist, O had said, in the moments before they’d found out who he really was. It wasn’t until much, much later that she’d put together the pieces, realised that the flying house they’d seen was the Master’s TARDIS, disguised the same way the Doctor’s TARDIS was disguised as a police box. Who did the other one belong to, then? Some other ‘Time Lord’ — that was what the Doctor had called herself, wasn’t it? Avoiding the Master Yaz understood, but it could just as easily be from the other TARDIS, couldn’t it?

“Are you worried it’s from... him?” she asked, trying her very best to be sympathetic to how the Doctor must be feeling.

“Like I said, not anxious to talk to either of them.” Once again it was clear the Doctor meant to end the conversation there, but this was the most she’d talked in days, and Yaz wasn’t about to walk away now and let her wallow in her quiet misery alone, no matter how much her nerves were fraying.

“Who’s the other one? The other pilot the message could be from?”

“Doesn’t matter,” the Doctor bit out. “Listen, just forget the message, Yaz, I’m not going to listen to it.”

“Could be important, though, couldn’t it?”

“Leave it alone,” the Doctor snapped, jerking her gaze up to her.

Yaz blinked, taken aback. She’d never heard that tone from the Doctor before, certainly not directed at her. “You know what, Doctor?” she said, anger making a flush creep up her neck. “You’re right: curiosity does serve me well.” She reached for the button next to the blinking light, mashing it down even as the Doctor lunged to stop her.

A hologram flickered to life a few feet away, and to her relief it wasn’t the familiar image of the Master, but rather a woman with straight brown hair, cut not unlike the Doctor’s. Her hologram stared directly ahead, shifting her weight slightly and tucking her hair behind her ears, as if nervous.

“Hello, Doctor,” the image of the woman said in a Blackpool accent. “If I’ve managed the messaging system like I think I have, this should reach you at the right point in your timestream, the one best chrono-aligned to mine. Which hopefully also means you remember who I am. If not this could be... awkward. But please know, I’m only contacting you because I need your help—”

The hologram shut off, and Yaz looked over to find the Doctor with her hand on a lever, hunched over, chin tilted down so that her hair obscured her face.

“I told you,” she said, voice heavy with what Yaz suspected were smothered tears, “to leave it.”

“Who was she, Doctor?”

She breathed raggedly for a moment. “An old... friend.”

“Like you and the Master are old friends?”

“No,” the Doctor bit out. “Clara is nothing like— No.”

She was definitely crying, and if she’d been any less defensively closed off in her posture, Yaz might have tried to hug her, offer some kind of comfort for whatever it was she was going through.

“What, then? Like an ex?”

The Doctor actually seemed to flinch at that, and despite her annoyance with her friend these past few days, the last thing Yaz wanted to do was hurt her. A surge of guilt flashed through her, overwhelming the rest.

“Yes, an ex,” the Doctor ground out, her face still hidden.

Yaz didn’t know what to do with that information. The idea of the Doctor having past romantic relationships seemed so odd to her. There had been times, of course, when Yaz had thought they might have been building towards that themselves, but always talked herself out of the possibility, convinced herself that romance simply wasn’t the way the Doctor was built. And yet that was apparently exactly what this beautiful young woman from Blackpool was to the Doctor.

Or, well, she might in fact be a Time Lord, she reasoned. Why wouldn’t she be, after all? The Doctor’s accent was pure Yorkshire, despite being from a planet Yaz had never heard of before, and the Master sounded so thoroughly British that he had fooled all of them into believing he was human. Having a Blackpool accent and an ordinary name like ‘Clara’ hardly proved anything.

“Well, I can understand wanting to avoid an ex,” Yaz said, aiming her voice for reasonable and soothing. “But she said she needed your help—”

The Doctor stood and turned away in a flurry of coattails, pressing the heel of each hand to her eyes. “She’s clever,” she said with her back to Yaz. “Really, astonishingly clever. Whatever it is, she can figure it out herself.”

Yaz was about to reply, but was cut off by a knock at the door of the TARDIS, and she turned to look at it, startled.

“Don’t answer that,” the Doctor said, her tone no less commanding for the trace of tears still in it.

“But... We’re in the Vortex,” she said, confused. “How can there be someone at the door when we’re in the Vortex?”

“Please, just, don’t answer it. I’m begging you, Yaz.”

“Doctor?” came a muffled call through the door. The woman with the Blackpool accent — Clara, the Doctor had called her. “I know you’re in there,” she went on. “I need to talk to you.”

“Please,” the Doctor whispered. “Don’t.”

“I’m going to use my key, Doctor,” Clara said. “Please, I just need to talk to you.”

“She has a key?” Yaz hissed at the Doctor.

“Of course she has a key, of course she kept it,” the Doctor muttered, though Yaz wasn’t sure it was entirely meant for her.

There was the sound of a key turning in a lock, and the Doctor went rigid. Yasmin threw a look her direction, then took a few steps towards the door, just as it opened and swung inwards by a fraction.

“Okay, new desktop,” Yaz heard, though it was spoken quietly, “that’s a good sign.” The woman angled the door slightly more open and poked her head inside, looking exactly as she had in her hologram. Her gaze fixed immediately on the Doctor, still stood with her back to the door, then slid over to land on Yaz.

“Hi,” she said, smiling kindly. “My name’s Clara. Sorry to drop in on you like this.”

“Yasmin Khan,” she replied. “How did you do that? Knock on the door like that, when we’re in the Vortex?”

The woman’s eyes flickered to the Doctor and back again, and she stepped fully inside and closed the door behind her. “The TARDIS messaging system can be used as a tracer, if you know what you’re doing.”

“And you always know what you’re doing, don’t you?” the Doctor said, her voice subdued.

Clara took a deep breath as though steeling herself. “Hello, Doctor.”

The Doctor finally turned around and faced them, her eyes rimmed in red. “Hello, Clara.”

“You know who I am, then,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “That’ll make this easier.”

“Nothing can make this easier,” the Doctor said immediately, some of the sharpness returning to her tone.

“Faster, then, if nothing else,” Clara replied. “I need your help.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” the Doctor said.

“I know,” Clara sighed. “It’s dangerous, I know that. And believe me, if I had any other options...”

“No, I mean, you should have gone a long time ago. You shouldn’t even be— Why are you still here?”

Yaz was stood close enough to her to see the tears start to gather in the stranger’s eyes, and as much as she felt like she was intruding on an intensely private moment between this woman and the Doctor, she couldn’t tear herself away.

“I had wiggle room and a TARDIS, and I needed time to process... everything,” Clara said. “I was always going to go back. I know that I have to— I know how important it is. That’s why I had to see you.”

“Can we skip the last hurrah, this time? It never seems to go well for us.”

Hurt flashed across Clara’s face, but her voice was level as she said, “You’ve been back, haven’t you? I’ve been tracking your TARDIS’s movements, I saw you land there. That’s why I sent you the message now, I had to be sure that you knew, that you’d seen Gallifrey—”

“What do you know about it?” the Doctor snarled, taking a large step towards Clara.

“Not as much as you, I’m guessing,” Clara said, seeming unflappable in the face of the Doctor’s anger. “I went back, like I promised I would, and when I saw what had happened, my first thought—”

“Your first thought was of me?” the Doctor demanded, bitingly sarcastic. “Well, rightly so, I’d reckon. You know my track record on that front better than anyone. That’s just the sort of thing I’d do, isn’t it?”

“Doctor!” Clara snapped. “Of course I didn’t think you’d done that! I was worried you were somewhere in that rubble. That Rassilon had come back looking for revenge, or the Daleks had found a way through Gallifrey’s defenses, or I don’t even know! I was worried about you!”

Rubble, on Gallifrey? That the Doctor had seen? Yaz frowned, thinking through the Doctor’s moods of late, trying to remember when exactly it’d started, and just how long that message light had been flashing.

“Well, I’m touched,” the Doctor said flatly. “But as you can see, I’m fine.”

Clara blinked back tears and nodded. “My second thought,” she said, then paused to swallow heavily. “My second thought was that there’s no way for me to get back, now. That’s why I had to see you.”

“Get back where?” the Doctor asked, sounding genuinely confused to Yaz’s ears, if still rather sharp.

“The Trap Street,” Clara said, whatever that meant. “There’s no one left to put me back. And I— I don’t know what to do, Doctor. I don’t know what comes next.”

The Doctor closed her eyes and shook her head. “You shouldn’t have waited so long.”

“I know I shouldn’t have done, but it’s too late now. I tried to get to an earlier version of Gallifrey, but my TARDIS wouldn’t cooperate.”

“Temporal safety protocols. You’ve seen it now, you can’t go back to before it happened. Can’t risk corrupting the timeline.”

“We did it once before,” Clara said, voice tinged with hope.

“With the help of the galaxy-eater,” the Doctor said. “No such luck, this time.”

She sighed and nodded. “So what happens if I can’t go back?” she asked. “If I can’t... If I’m stuck like this? Is it a danger to the universe?”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” the Doctor demanded. “A civilisation gone and you’re worried your continued existence might poke a hole in the universe?”

“And unravel the Web of Time? Yes, that’s what I’m worried about! Why aren’t you? What is wrong with you, Doctor? This isn’t like you.”

“You don’t have any idea what I’m like. New face, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Don’t you do that, don’t you dare,” Clara said, eyes bright with tears. “Don’t treat me like I’m somebody else. I know you, I know all your faces, and I know when you’re not yourself! Last time it was that whole business with your confession dial, so go on, tell me what it is this time. What happened to you?”

“What happened?” the Doctor thundered, striding over to Clara with such ferocity that Yaz took a step back, watching as Clara stood her ground and lifted her chin. “What do you think happened?? I went home to Gallifrey and found that, that’s what happened! And it was the Master—” She cut herself off with a choked sound, hands curling into fists.

“Missy?” Clara asked, her eyebrows drawing together.

The Doctor shook her head. “He regenerated. Back to his old tricks again. Do you remember what you said to me, that day in the graveyard with the Cybermen? You said that if I’d ever let the Master live, everything that happened was on me. And I just don’t learn, do I? I keep making the same stupid choices, out of the same stupid hope that this time, this time it’ll be different. And now—”

The tears finally seemed to catch up with the Doctor, and she crumpled forward with a tortured, muffled sob. Yasmin took a step towards her out of instinct, but Clara was closer, quicker, and caught the Doctor, pulling her into a tight hug.

“It’s not your fault,” she said fiercely. “You’re not responsible for what the Master chooses to do.”

The Doctor pressed her face to Clara’s shoulder, hands clenched in the back of her jumper. “Of course it’s my fault. You were right back then. Every time I’ve let him live, all the destruction he’s caused, again and again. And now you’re stuck, and they’re all gone, Clara, they’re all gone. That whole planet, not a single life-sign. I didn’t push the button this time, but I may as well have done.” Her words dissolved into repressed cries, and Yaz’s heart twisted.

Gallifrey. A civilisation gone. Not a single life-sign. Can we visit your home? she’d asked, never once considering that there might not be anything left to visit.

Clara met her gaze over the Doctor’s shoulder and gestured her over with her eyes. It only took her a moment to catch her meaning, and then she was crossing the short distance between them, wrapping herself around the Doctor’s back and holding her tight, half hugging Clara as well. The Doctor found one of her hands behind Clara’s back and clung to it like a lifeline, her grip almost painful.

“Did you know?” Clara asked her quietly.

“No,” Yaz said, and only then realised that she was crying as well. “Something had obviously been bothering her, but I had no idea. I’m so sorry, Doctor,” she added, clutching her close.

“Oh Yaz,” the Doctor said, voice thick with tears, “I’ve been so awful to you. I’ve just been so, so angry.”

“You never were very good with grief,” Clara said gently.

“Is that what this is?” the Doctor asked, sounding lost. “Maybe if I could just grieve properly, I could get past this, come to grips with being... being orphaned again. But it’s my fault, the Master being alive at all, and look what’s come of it. I just never thought he’d do something like this.”

“Hey, Yaz,” Ryan called, accompanied by his approaching footsteps. “Do you know where—” He stopped, and she looked over to find him frozen on the stairs, his eyes wide. “What’s going on?” he asked, sounding worried.

“You should tell them,” Clara said softly, in a voice meant just for the Doctor. “Tell them everything. What you’ve lost and why it hurts. They’re your friends, and friends stand by you in times like these.”

“No,” Yaz said, hugging the Doctor tighter, “we’re not just her friends. We’re her family.”

105 notes · View notes

saiilorstars · 3 years

Text

The Beginning of Everything

Ch. 32: And That’s the Beginning and End of Everything

// Story Masterlist //

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: 10th Doctor x Female OC

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel

[If you would like to be added to this specific OC’s taglist, let me know!]

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Chapter summary: The final face-off between Renata and the Assessor begins in the middle of the final battle between her, the Doctor and the Time Lords. Who will survive? And what will the sisters do to each other?

[Renata’s new face claim is Livia Brito and the Assessor’s is Ana Brenda]

‘I love her, and that's the beginning and end of everything.' - F. Scott Fitzgerald.

~ 0 ~

Present Day.

The Doctor worked truly hard on the Vinvocci equipment to get them back to Earth. There was a new incentive and it was a huge one!

"But you said your people were dead, past tense," Wilf was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that these Time Lords were no longer dead. Five minutes ago they had been. What changed?

"Inside the Time War, when the whole War was time-locked — like sealed inside a bubble. It's not a bubble but think of a bubble. Nothing can get in or get out of the time-lock. Don't you see? Nothing can get in or get out, except something that was already there."

"And that was the signal. The Master has been hearing it since he was a child because that's what the High Council did." Renata was doing her best not to get distracted while fixing the wires in front of her. She was still trying to process everything she had remembered. The Assessor and the Council...everything they did. How could she forget that? Well, she had a pretty good idea. She had regenerated into her last incarnation only hours after the Assessor had taken the Whitepoint Star from her. It was a traumatizing war, a terrible death — she had pushed it all away to start anew. She sealed everything away except for the deal she made with the Assessor. That's all that survived with her."

"If they can follow the signal, they can escape, before they die," the Doctor said in a quick-paced tone.

"And that's not good?" Wilf assumed by their terrified faces.

"Not the Time Lords at the end of the War," the Doctor shook his head. "It changed them completely, right to the core."

"My own sister became even more heartless than before," Renata's hands stopped working again. "She stole my necklace to use it for the High Council's needs. She had no regard for my pain."

"I am going to need you both to start explaining what the hell you're talking about!" Addams strode up to the pair with no intention of letting them go. "You killed our ship and now you want to fix it to go back there!?"

"Just shut up and listen!" snapped the Doctor in a loud volume, startling Addams. "Right, you! This is a salvage ship, yes? You go trawling the asteroid fields for junk?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"So, you've got asteroid lasers!"

"Yeah, but they're all frazzled," Rossiter reminded them with a pointed look on Renata, only now the Time Lady wasn't concerned with the ship. She was too deep in her thoughts.

"Consider them unfrazzled." The Doctor flipped a lever and made two doors on opposite sides of the room slide right open. "You there - I'm going to need you on navigation." He nodded at Addams then moved onto Rossiter. "And you, get in the laser-pod. Wilfred?"

"Yeah?"

"Laser number two. The old soldier's got one more battle!"

"Right!"

"But this ship can't move. It's dead!" Addams reminded them, but the Doctor had taken care of that as well.

"Fix the heating!" he pushed two large levers on either side of the control panel, starting the ship back up.

Addams still didn't look too pleased. "...now they can see us," she pointed out, folding her arms.

"Oh, yes!" the Doctor turned away and grabbed Renata's hand, pulling her away from the controls. He settled down for her, for that moment. "We're going to get that back, okay? That Whitepoint Star? You're getting it back, I promise."

Renata met his gaze and raised an eyebrow at him. "You would fight for it?" She let the doubt cover each of her words. Why would he fight for a necklace that her husband gave her? If what he said about her was true, wouldn't he be overly jealous about the jewel?

"Because it's important to you," the Doctor answered both her out-loud question and her silent question. He wiped a few tears off her face with his thumbs. "And a good man gave it to you." He never even met Elek but he knew - from the very start - that he had been nothing but kind to Renata. He had cherished her and loved her each day of his lives. He'd done what the Doctor wished he could've, and he would never harbor any resentment towards the man. If anything, he owed Elek for messing up the beginning of his relationship with Renata. If it hadn't been for him, perhaps Renata could've truly loved Elek.

"This is my ship!" Addams exclaimed, pulling the Doctor back to the present. "You're not moving it. Step away from the wheel!"

"There's an old Earth saying, Captain, A phrase of great power, and wisdom, and consolation to the soul in times of need," the Doctor began, straight serious that even for a second there, Renata was curious what old quote he knew.

"What's that, then?" Addams asked.

"Allons-y!"

Renata's face went flat. "Oh you—" But the ship lurched forwards, ending whatever she was going to say.

His piloting skills were really questionable. It apparently didn't matter if it was a TARDIS or a ship — he just wasn't the best pilot. The others practically screamed as the ship took a harder pace as it entered the Earth's atmosphere.

"You are blinkin', flippin' mad!" Addams gripped onto a railing, letting her scream echo throughout the room.

The Doctor ignored her and called to Rossiter and Wilf to go into the laser pods just like he told them once. "We've got to fight off the entire planet!"

"How does this thing work!?" Wilf called from his pod. Everything was all fancy, nothing like in his time.

"The tracking's automatic. Just deploy the trigger on the joystick!" Rossiter explained from his own pod.

"Doctor, we've got incoming!" Renata managed to put herself in front of a computer without falling.

"You two, open fire!" the Doctor called to the pods. They were just getting the hang of the controls but they needed to act fast before the missiles struck them.

It seemed like Rossiter got it first. He gave quite a war scream as he took out the first missile.

Wilf soon got the hang of it and took care of the second and third missile. "Ha, ha! Oh, I wish Donna could see me now!" She would've had the laugh of her life seeing her old gramps in a space battle.

Addams had found her way to the computers beside Renata and was appalled to see the missiles doubling in numbers. "There's 16! And then another 16 of them!" They were going to die alright.

"Go to the rear-gun lasers!" ordered the Doctor.

"Show me where!" Renata told the Vinvocci urgently.

Of course with the Doctor's attempts to evade the missiles, the flying ship would send both women back and forth before they could actually reach their intended location. It was impossible when the ship actually spun. But at least they got all the missiles down and the only casualty was the front window being blown away.

"Lock the navigation!" the Doctor instructed afterwards. "To England! The Naismith mansion!"

Addams inwardly groaned but did as told. Renata struggled to make her world stop spinning after such a terrible flight, but eventually she found the Doctor's arm to keep her steady.

"How are we landing, exactly?" She sent him a sharp look. His mind had suddenly stopped being so open to hers. The ship neared the England ocean, Addams warning them they were getting lower and lower. "Doctor?" Renata asked again, her grip on his arm becoming tighter as the Time Lord refused to answer.

"Doctor!" Wilf came rushing into the room after getting out of his pod, along with Rossiter. "Doctor, you said you were going to die!"

"He said what!?" Addams gawked and immediately shot the Doctor a warning look. She was not going to become part of whatever plan that man had.

"But is that all of us?" asked Wilf. "I won't stop you, sir, but is this it?"

"Absolutely not!" Addams screamed her head off since nobody was listening to her.

Renata, on the other hand, was the opposite. She did not scream, she did not scowl, not even frown. She only stared at the Doctor. "What are you planning?" Her tone was dangerously low, though. It was that type of scary anger where a scream wouldn't cover it.

His mind had been completely shut from her now.

The Doctor was grim but just for her, he would let it go for one moment. "I do love you, Renee. And I won't let you die for me." He pulled his gaze away from hers, as if that would make him braver. He bent down to the ground, right over the hatch.

"I don't know what you're planning but you are not leaving me behind," Renata warned him, watching him try to lift the hatch. "I'm done with that. You're not getting rid of me this time." She was determined to show him that this incarnation was different from her previous ones. She may not know where she stood with him in regards to an actual relationship, but she knew that where he was she wanted to be too. They were a team, albeit an unorthodox one, but a team. In fact, she didn't think she ever felt such a determination.

She didn't even notice the golden wisps of energy briefly emanating from her fingertips.

The Doctor held Wilf's gun tightly in one hand. He raised his head to see Renata staring down at him. "Not you," he tried to say but Renata bent down next to him, letting them be face to face.

"Only me," she corrected. "Because only I will fight for you the way you deserve it. It's not just you anymore, it's me too. If they are back then I want a word with them." Her eyes flickered to the revolver in his hand. She wasn't sure how to feel about that but she supposed once they stood in front of...them, she would know. So, she seized the Doctor's free hand and cracked a smile, almost a smirk. And then, just like that, she threw herself down the ship first but with their connected hands the Doctor was right beside her. They fell down the long way, crashing through the glass dome of the Naismith mansion. Each shard that penetrated their skin was painful enough, but then came the solid smack of the ground.

Rassilon was mildly impressed with the entrance, but nothing would beat theirs. He looked over his shoulder where a few of the Council had gathered with him, along with the two who dared to object to their plan of salvation.

"My Lord Doctor. My Lord Master. We are gathered for the end," he said once he returned his attention to the trio.

The Doctor grunted as he peeled himself off the floor. He tried taking the revolver off the floor as well but he only managed to briefly aim it at Rassilon before dropping it again. His entire body was aching and he doubted that this time he would be able to heal from it. He glanced to his left and saw Renata more or less groaning the same.

"Renata," he tried to help her but his arms were too weak to help anyone, even himself. "Renata!"

"What did you say?" demanded a sharp voice behind Rassilon.

Renata scrunched her face — her face that now hurt — but she ultimately picked herself up better than the Doctor. It was when she was on her feet that she finally saw what was around them. She stopped completely at the sight of the Assessor. Of course her sister wouldn't recognize her, yet. The Assessor was too focused on the Doctor beside Renata. Just like those centuries ago, her eyes still held the same hatred.

"It is a fitting paradox that our salvation comes at the hands of our most infamous child," Rassilon went on, speaking primarily to the Master standing only a few feet from the pair.

"Oh, he's not saving you. Don't you realize what he's doing?" the Doctor struggled to speak without feeling the echoes of pain inside his chest. Renata helped him stand up but she had to keep a grip around him for a few minutes.

"Hey, no, hey! That's mine! Hush!" snapped the Master as he moved around the room."Look around you. I've transplanted myself into every single human being. But who wants a mongrel little species like them? Because now I can transplant myself into every single Time Lord. Oh, yes, Mr President, sir, standing there all noble and resplendent and decrepit. Think how much better you're going to look as me!"

The threat made no effect on any Time Lord. The Assessor let out a small noise akin to condescension.

Rassilon held out his gauntlet-covered hand and with one glow of it, the humans all returned to normal. The Master was mortified to see his grand plan stripped from him like that, so easily like it never even happened.

"No, don't...! No, no, no, stop it! No, no! No, no! Don't!"

"On your knees, mankind," demanded Rassilon and since all the humans there had the sense to be afraid, they knelt without protest.

The Master took in a deep breath as he tried to see he wasn't completely lost. "No, that's fine, that's good, because you said salvation. I still saved you, don't forget that."

"Oh, they never cared," Renata groaned with exasperation. She looked over her shoulder to the man. "Don't you get it? The High Council never cared. They are responsible for that noise in your head. I saw them throw my Whitepont Star just to establish the link that would save them."

"What did you say?" the Assessor once again demanded, this time her eyes narrowing on Renata. "How could you possibly know that?"

Renata whipped her head to meet her sister's gaze. Unlike the last time she saw the Assessor, she wasn't afraid. She didn't fear her sister anymore. After everything that she'd gone through recently, the Assessor was no one to have fear for. "I was wrong, you didn't take everything away from me…" the Assessor's eyes were beginning to widen, "You forced my hand and I stupidly played into it. You're not going to do the same again to me. CeCe."

The Assessor was rightfully stunned. Her dark eyes scrutinized the black haired woman from head to toe. The clothes were far to vulgar to be that of a Time Lady but then again only her sister would call her that wretched nickname. "...Renata?" Renata raised her head high, just like she was accustomed to. It was her place, after all. That's what the Assessor always said. "How...how are you…?"

"I tricked you," Renata said with no attempt to hide her smirk. "Because in the end, CeCe, I tricked you."

Though her words were brief, it was enough to send the Assessor into a whole new level of rage. "What do you me—" But before she could finish the question, a violent rumbling rocked them all on their feet. A bright light lit up from the windows.

"What's going on!?" the Master scowled.

"Something is returning. Don't you ever listen?" the Doctor was just as exasperated. "That was the prophecy. Not someone, something."

"What is it?"

"They're not just bringing back the species. It's Gallifrey. Right here, right now!"

Because now the Gallifrey as a whole was coming, intending on knocking Earth out of its own orbit to take its place.

The Master was beyond shocked that he'd been played like that. "But I...I did this. I get the credit!" he started scowling again as he looked at the Time Lords. "I'm on your side!"

"You're on their side because they wanted it to be so!" snapped Renata. "They're manipulators," she said directly at her sister. "No regard for anyone else but their own skin. Such a shame that you're what's left."

The Assessor's face grew red as a tomato from the anger. "You will not speak to me like that!"

"What are you going to do!? You already took everything! There's nothing left to dangle in front of me anymore!" Renata's humorless laughter only made her sister infuriate more. "You have finally met a version of me that you can't control. It must burn."

Chaos was ensuing all over the room. The humans were terrified of the intruding alien planet coming for theirs so they ran out. Wilf made it inside but before he could reach the Doctor or Renata, he found his way towards the technician booths where one employee was desperately banging against the glass doors to be let out. The Doctor could barely move as it was, and he didn't know who to go to. The Master? Wilf who was now locked in one of the booths? Or the two sisters in a standoff? Or the mastermind behind everything, Rassilon?

"But this is fantastic, isn't it?" the Master rose from the ground, ignoring the Doctor's glare. He still wasn't getting it!? Amazing. "The Time Lords restored."

"You weren't there in the final days of the War!" the Doctor cut in before he made any other assumptions. "You never saw what was born. But if the time-lock's broken, then everything's coming through, not just the Daleks, but the Skaro Degradations, the Horde of Travesties, the Nightmare Child, the Could-Have-Been King with his army of Meanwhiles and Never-weres, the War turning to hell. And that's what you opened, right above the Earth. Hell is descending!"

It wasn't admittedly what he had in mind but the Master would take it if it meant victorious. "My kind of world."

"Just listen! 'Cause even the Time Lords can't survive that!"

"We will initiate the Final Sanction. The end of time will come at my hand," Rassilon confirmed. "The rupture will continue, until it rips the Time Vortex apart."

"That's suicide," the Master said.

Even the Assessor had paused for a moment to evaluate the implications. "My Lord…"

"We will ascend to become creatures of consciousness alone, free of these bodies, free of time, and cause and effect, while creation itself ceases to be."

"Was that...was that the final plan?" Renata was truly horrified to hear that, much more to know that her sister was in on such a plan. "CeCe…"

The Assessor faltered. Her eyes flickered to Renata, letting her see for one moment a scared woman. "I...I didn't know the extension of the plan but…" She took in a breath, one that was hard too from what Renata saw, "...if it our Lord President's decision then...we will follow."

"No," Renata shook her head, utterly disgusted.

"This is what made me do it," the Doctor told her quietly. "I knew what they were planning and I had to stop them."

Renata's eyes watered up. "Oh CeCe...how far you've gone…"

"We do what we must to survive," the Assessor said with her head held high. "I always do what I must, something you clearly—" Her eyes hardened on the Doctor, "—will never get. You say you tricked me, Renata, and for what? For him? The man who, as much as he tries, will never be good enough for you." She took a heavy pleasure watching the Doctor react to her words. Even centuries later, it still hurt him to know the truth.

"He was always good for me," Renata's voice was soft and honest when she looked at the Doctor. "I was trapped and for one moment — one small moment in my life — he made me happy." Her mind then opened up to show the Doctor those precious memories of theirs back on Gallifrey. They were running down hallways, sneaking around to see something they shouldn't but something that always brought out her laughter. They bantered and bickered about the oddest of things and even when the Doctor clearly won — from his vast well of knowledge — he never belittled her like the Assessor would. He would explain and show her what he meant. Their hugs, their hand-holding, their kisses — they were all treasured memories.

The Doctor saw them all one by one and felt the stinging of tears pricking his eyes. They were his best memories too. He brought a hand over Renata's cheek. "I was only happy there too," he nodded.

The Assessor audibly growled at the pair, completely outraged that her words were no longer holding the effect they always did. "Let go of her!" she yelled.

The Doctor did but only to sent a dark glare in her direction. "You hurt her."

"And you didn't?" she almost laughed in his face.

"I did and I will always regret it," the Doctor swallowed hard. "But I will always try to make up for it, if she allows it..." He glanced at Renata with nothing but hope that she really would let him try at least.

"Enough of this!" the Master pushed them apart to get up front. "Let me ascend into glory." He knelt down in front of Rassilon with his arms outstretched.

"You are diseased, albeit a disease of our own making. No more," Rassilon didn't look at him twice. He let his gauntlet do the talking. Energy started springing from it but before it reached out to the Master, a revolver clicking took the moment away.

The Doctor had found his strength to aim it right at the President.

Rassilon seemed amused but he would humor the Doctor by making a well pointed out difference. "Choose your enemy well. We are many. The Master is but one."

"But he's the President. Kill him, and Gallifrey could be yours!" the Master jumped on the boat that would save his skin. However, the Doctor turned the gun on him now. "Oh! He's to blame, not me! Oh, the link is inside my head. Kill me, the link gets broken, they go back. You never would, you coward. Go on then. Do it."

Renata's head changed each time the aim did. She didn't know what to do, how to help, but she just wanted to do something.

"I told you that he would ruin you," the Assessor spoke from her spot, raising her head as she smirked proudly. Once again, she'd been right. "He could never be on our level."

Renata closed her eyes as a new wave of fury rippled through her. The Assessor would never be able to change her tune. There were always these small moments where the Assessor would do something that would make Renata believe that perhaps her sister wasn't all bad. But maybe it was just a fact. It wasn't the Council's fault that her sister was the way she was.

The golden energy once again sparked from her fingers but this time the Assessor noticed it, although she wasn't sure what it was.

"The final act of your life is murder. But which one of us?" Rassilon taunted the Doctor as the Time Lord once again switched aims to hold it at the Master.

Behind Rassilon, however, there was a woman who'd been covering her face and the Doctor noticed her lowering her hands. He blinked twice to make sure he was seeing right. He couldn't...he couldn't quite remember but…

A bubbling feeling took place in his chest, like a wave of serenity coming to aid him. The Doctor watched the woman's eyes flicker to something on their side. With the gun being pointed at him for so long, the Master was beginning to realize that this was truly the end for him. He locked eyes with the Doctor, almost accepting that he'd lost all over again.

"Get out of the way," the Doctor suddenly ordered.

A grin broke across the Master's face. He dove out of the way and gave the Doctor the opportunity to shoot the device holding the Whitepoint Star. Once shot, the link went dead.

"The link is broken. Back into the Time War, Rassilon. Back into hell!" he cried with just a hint of a smirk.

"You'll die with me, Doctor!" warned Rassilon.

"I know," the Doctor let the revolver drop to the floor. This was where he met his end as well.

But Rassilon never made a move. The Master did. "Get out of the way!" he told the Doctor and Renata. "You did this to me!" He started firing electric bolts at Rassilon. The President staggered backwards with each blow. The Assessor quickly dove out of the way before she was caught in the crossfire. "All of my life! You made me! One! Two! Three! FOUR!" He gave the last powerful blow but he'd gotten too close to the link as well and was pulled in with it.

And so the link started pulling everything else.

"You blundering idiots!" the Assessor lost her entire cool facade as she fled from the link's grip. "We have the right to survive! We are Time Lords!" She stormed directly towards Renata and grabbed her by the shoulders, shoving the Doctor away. "And you! You had a duty! I always did everything right and I always made sure that you did everything right!" Renata allowed her sister to continue shaking her like a rag doll, but inside something was burning. Literally. "But you were always the odd one! Of course it had to be you! You-you had to go and fall in love with the likes of him! That — it was the beginning of everything! If you had never met the Doctor, then you would've done your job as a Time Lady!"

"LET ME GO!" Renata seized her sister's arms, squeezing them with a golden energy wrapping around them. The Assessor's eyes widened when she saw the same energy swirling inside her sister's eyes. "You're right, meeting the Doctor was the start of it all. It was the beginning of everything and it should have had a much different ending! A better one! But you took care of that! You made sure that I was as miserable as you! Elek never deserved me because I couldn't love him the right way. But you know what? I am so done with you Cece. I dare to think that even while I was out there, fighting our war, you considered me dead. I was never going to be your sister, no matter what I did for you. Because all you ever cared about was appearances and the High Council. So..." Renata felt a terrible pang across her chest knowing what she would have to do. "You want to die for their cause? Then go right ahead, but I refuse to follow you any longer. Serve your people like you always did. Till the end."

The Assessor tried shaking out of Renata's death grip. The energy around her was burning like fires from the war and it only seemed to be getting stronger. "What...what are you?" Her voice trembled with fear as she watched the energy dance around her sister's body.

"I don't know," Renata answered honestly while the golden energy spread behind her back, flapping like a butterfly. The Assessor soon recalled the Visionary's scroll. The Time Vortex and a butterfly. The Vortex Butterfly. "I love you Cece but it's time to say goodbye."

The Assessor's eyes widened one last time before Renata pushed her away with her newfound energy. The Assessor was the last thing to go into the pull before everything was shut off.

"Renata!" the Doctor tried reaching her but Renata screamed as she once again expelled golden energy. He was thrown back, hitting the side of a machine with a thud.

Unlike the other times where Renata would collapse from expelling energy, it gathered behind her back again and fluttered brilliantly like a golden butterfly. Renata sucked in a deep breath and tilted her head back, her arms stretching outwards. She could feel the energy moving with her, not against her this time. It was becoming a part of her, solidifying as her regeneration finally stabilized.

Far, far away one Gabby Gonzalez felt the echoes of the Time Vortex alerting her that Renata would be just fine.

When the golden energy died down, Renata was left standing but she appeared to be hazed for a moment. She raised her left hand, turning her palm over and smiled when a small butterfly formed above it.

"Ren…?"

Renata turned her head to see the Doctor struggling to get off the ground on his own. "Doctor!" she dashed to help him. "Oh, look at you!" She cupped his battered face.

"It's okay, I'm still alive. You're alive," he laughed shakily, prompting her to do the same.

"Yes, yes, we are," she agreed and kissed his nose. "I'm sorry what she said — the Assessor. She's going back and she's going to offer me the deal, and I'm going to say yes because she betrayed me. I'm a terrible person." She could remember perfectly now the way her deal was granted. They would offer the new cycle as a last hope that she would take the Moment from the Doctor, but Renata had seen what they nearly did. Her sister had stolen from her without a second though. She would betray them because they betrayed her.

"It's okay," the Doctor wound an arm around her neck, bunching some of her hair as he brought her closer to him, resting their foreheads against each other's. "It's okay, you never have to apologize for that."

But just as they relished in their victory, in their moments, they heard four knocks against glass. Renata flinched against the Doctor's forehead while the Doctor himself froze. The four knocks went again and this time they turned to see where it came from. Wilf was knocking against the glass of the booth he was in. He'd let the technician go without realizing what would come out of it.

"They've gone, then? Good-oh. If you could let me out...?" he smiled meekly.

The Doctor swallowed hard as he pushed himself up. "Yeah…"

Renata couldn't stand right then.

"Only, this thing seems to be making a bit of a noise," Wilf pointed behind him to the whirring control panel behind him.

"The Master...left the nuclear bolt running. It's gone into overload."

"And that's bad, is it?"

"No...'cause all the excess radiation gets vented inside there. Vinvocci glass contains it. All 500,000 rads, about to flood that thing."

"Oh! Well, you'd better let me out, then!"

"It's not that easy," Renata scrunched her face to keep herself from crying. She forced herself to stand up and turn around. "It's gone critical. Touch one control and it floods. Even our sonics would set it off."

"...I'm sorry," Wilf said once he realized what it meant. All this time he'd been so worried that the Master would kill them and it turned out to be him. "Look, just leave me."

"Okay, right then, I will," the Doctor said as if he would really do it. As if. "Cause you had to go in there, didn't you? You had to go and get stuck, oh, yes! 'Cause that's who you are, Wilfred. You were always this. Waiting for me all this time!" He was related to Donna Noble, of course her convergence wouldn't end with just her. It had to extend to her grandfather and yet the Doctor wouldn't leave him there. He couldn't.

"No, really, just leave me. I'm an old man, Doctor. I've had my time."

"Well, exactly. Look at you. Not remotely important. But me? I could do so much more!" the Doctor yelled at the ceiling and turned away in deep fury. "So much more! But this is what I get. My reward. And it's not fair!" He swiped an entire desk clear but stopped when he caught himself, when he caught his words.

Was he really throwing a child's tantrum? Acting like a God who fought to stay alive even when his time was clearly up? That's exactly what he did on Mars. It keeps happening, he realized. This life...he'd lived it too long, so long and most of the time it had been heartbreak after heartbreak that it finally got to him. He let it get to him.

"I've lived too long," he concluded out lout and turned back towards Wilf. "I played the game of Life and I went down a path that I shouldn't have. I'm not God, I never should have tried to be one. This is my punishment, a lesson."

"Doctor, it's not," Renata said sadly. "You know what? Let me do it."

The Doctor humorlessly laughed. "You died once when I promised you that I would be there for you—"

"But you were!" she blurted, no longer caring what it would do to the future. "You were there, Doctor! Just...just not this you!" The Doctor only paused so that she could explain herself better. "You promised me that you would come back and you did. Another you did. A...future you. He came and he was with me when I died. He was there, telling me that I was going to be okay. He made my last moment peaceful and-and I don't want you to die now."

"I was there?" the Doctor asked, his eyes tearing up but this time with relief. "I was truly there?"

Renata nodded her head, tearing up herself. "Yes. You carried me out to my garden and you stayed with me until the end. So you see? This isn't a punishment."

"No, but it is where I have to go," he decided. "Because I need to be that man who can keep his promises to you."

"No, Doctor—"

"I want to be that man." He started towards the booth, forcing himself to keep his eyes locked ahead and not on the distraught Renata behind him. Despite Wilf's own protests, he opened the second booth door and stepped in. "Wilfred...it's my honour. Better be quick. Three, two, one." He pressed the button to release Wilf and once he was out, the radiation flooded his own booth.

"Doctor!" Renata ran towards the booth but it was far too late. He was being engulfed by the radiation. She was forced to watch him fall to the ground, curling up in true pain. Those few minutes felt like a lifetime for her.

But then, slowly, the Doctor regained his balance and was able to come out. Wilf was so confused but he still waved a hand. "Hello?"

"...hi," the Doctor stopped to help Renata stand on her feet. She'd fallen with him on the other side of the glass.

"Still with us?" Wilf asked again.

"The system's dead. I absorbed it all. Whole thing's kaput."

"There we are then, safe and sound. Mind you, you're in hell of a state. You've got some battle scars there."

Renata looked up at him as he covered his face with his hands, the next time he lowered them his injuries were completely healed.

Wilf was stunned. "But they've...your face! How did you do that?"

The Doctor stared at his hands. "It's started…"

Renata threw her arms around him, sniffling to herself but she promised at the same time that now she would be with him, just like he had been for her.

Do you mind one last round? The Doctor was looking at her with a resigned smile. She had no idea what he meant but she nodded her head fervently.

~ 0 ~

Sylvia Noble was right outside the house when the TARDIS materialized across the street and to their wonder, she was smiling.

"Hm, didn't know she did that," Renata remarked, actually making the Doctor and Wilf laugh beside her. She blinked after a moment when something hit her. "That was rude, wasn't it?"

The Doctor would let her ponder on that for a while. He turned to Wilf with a genuine smile. "Don't go thinking this is goodbye, Wilf. We'll see you again, one more time."

"What do you mean?" the man frowned. "When's that?"

"Just keep looking. We'll be there."

"Where are you going?"

"To get my reward." The Doctor reached for Renata's arm and gently tugged her into the TARDIS. They had a few stops to make after all.

~ 0 ~

Martha Jones ran as fast as she could down a paved area, but the rifle in her arms was a bit heavier than she thought it'd be. Finally, she ran up behind a concrete wall where her husband, Mickey Smith, was hiding at. He was appalled to see her there.

"I told you to stay behind!"

"You looked like you needed help. Besides, you're the one who persuaded me to go freelance!" she reminded him, leaving no chance of an argument there.

"Yeah, but we're being fired at by a Sontaran. A dumpling with a gun. And this is no place for a married woman!

Martha rolled her eyes. "Well, then. You shouldn't have married me!" But if he agreed with that, she'd kill him on the spot and he knew it.

Suddenly, the very Sontaran they were looking for caught them from behind. He was about to fire when a mallet struck him from behind. The Doctor held the mallet and gazed at Martha and Mickey, nonethewisers yet about their near death experience.

"If we go in here and down to the factory floor and down past that corridor, then he won't know that we're here.." Mickey was busy reading off a map when Martha shook his arm and pointed to the Doctor and Renata behind them. "Hey!" Mickey grinned, even Martha but it faltered when they truly saw the pair's grim faces.

"Ren…?" Martha squinted her eyes at the black-haired woman. She died. Martha felt tears come to her eyes but then she noticed the even worse face the Doctor had on and knew that the story wasn't completely over yet. "Oh no…"

The Doctor offered them one small smile before taking Renata's hand and leaving with her.

~ 0 ~

They finally met Sarah Jane's son, Luke Smith, although the boy was a bit distracted. The Doctor barely saved him from getting ran over by a car.

"But it's you!" Luke blinked at the man in front of him. He forgot all about his cellphone call. "Doctor! Mum! Mum!"

The Doctor smiled at him too then headed back for the TARDIS.

Luke caught up with mother - after looking before crossing the street - and told her about the Doctor. Sarah Jane caught him by the TARDIS and saw the him waving, but she knew that look. She'd know it anywhere. She smiled sadly as well.

~ 0 ~

Captain Jack wearily sat at a bar counter. He was off in how own world until a bartender stopped by to give him a note. "From the man over there."

'His name is Alonso'.

Jack took the note then looked over to see the Doctor and Renata. The Doctor nodded over to the quiet man sitting across from Jack, the same Alonso from the space Titanic. Jack knew what it all meant, even more so when the Doctor gave him a salute with a finger to his forehead.

He was saying goodbye.

Jack raised his head and gave him a proper salute.

~ 0 ~

Renata was front and center getting "A Journal of Impossible Things" signed by Verity Newman. "Lost touch there," Renata chuckled as the author, the granddaughter of her old friend, Joan, signed her copy.

"Yeah, you did," Verity agreed with her own chuckle. "Even did the whole face thing you told us about." Renata had always talked about it, her face changing was a possibility but of course that wasn't quite believed.

"I brought a friend," Renata pulled the Doctor from the line.

"Oh, lovely," Verity smiled at him. "Shall I add onto your book, Renata?"

"Please," Renata fondly looked at the Doctor. "Your name?"

"The Doctor," he told the author, expecting her to do a double take. Verity froze and looked him over and when she couldn't quite finish believing it was the same man, she checked for Renata's confirmation.

Renata gave the nod.

"Was she happy in the end?" the Doctor asked quietly. He knew from Renata's stories that Joan had lived a good life even after the whole mess he created, but he wanted to know from her own family too.

"Yes," Verity answered, smiling softly. "You and Renata changed her entire perspective of the world. It's why she traveled afterwards."

The Doctor smiled sadly. "Good."

~ 0 ~

Donna Noble had finally gotten married and was gleefully showing off her beautiful ring outside the church. And just as they were celebrating outside, Sylvia and Wilf noticed the Doctor around, along with Renata.

Wilf immediately set out for them. It had been months and he always wondered what happened to those two. "And here you are, same old face. Didn't I tell you you'd be all right? Oh! They've arrested Mr Naismith. It was on the news. Crimes undisclosed. And his daughter. Both of 'em, locked up."

"That's good to know," Renata nodded.

"I just wanted to give you this," the Doctor handed Wilf an envelope. "Wedding present. Thing is, I never carry money. So I just popped back in time, borrowed a quid off a really lovely man. Geoffrey Noble, his name was. "Have it," he said." Sylvia gasped with chills from hearing her husband practically gave their daughter her wedding present. " Have that on me."

"The one time we can bend the rules," Renata smiled proudly as she curled her arm around the Doctor's. "Donna deserves the entire world." She watched Donna have a laugh while the photographer took her picture.

The Doctor gave a final look at Donna as well. That was his best friend, and she would finally get a good ending, one that she did deserve. The pair started back for the console, only stopping to give Wilf and Sylvia a proper goodbye as well. Both sides were tearing up. It was impossible not to.

~ 0 ~

Gabby had stuck to her drawing from the moment Renata had left with that strange man claiming to be the Doctor. She had a feeling that he was being honest, but she just needed a bit more time to confirm for herself. Still, she knew Renata would never go off with a stranger and much less a stranger who had the same TARDIS (least that's what it looked like from outside). Her head had been a bit frantic for a few moments here and there that day.

Gabby clung to hope that they survived whatever they had fought on Earth. She kept remembering the little feeling she got last night. It was so strange because she'd been drawing like usual when there was a ping in her heart. A purple energy wafted from her fingertips, remnants of the Cosmic Butterfly. It was only for a few seconds before it calmed down and turned into a beautiful swirl of purple butterflies and she suddenly knew that Renata was fine. It was like a wave of peace that washed over her. It was for that reason that Gabby continued to wait for them to come back. She knew what she felt was real. They couldn't be dead. They just couldn't be. They had already lost Donna and Gabby didn't know what she would do if she lost Renata and the Doctor too.

With all those concerns and unanswered questions, Gabby set out to draw. She had a few doodles of Donna which she hoped would become the basis of her next statue. She was just finishing shading Donna's bright orange hair when she heard the TARDIS wheezing.

Gabby's face lit up. She dropped her pencil and ran out of her room. In only one minute, she had dashed out of the gallery altogether to see the blue box in the garden again.

"Oh thank God!" she laughed in delight as she ran up to the box. Renata and the Doctor were just coming out of it when she reached them. "You're back! You're back!" Gabby greeted each of them with a tight hug. "I was so worried about you two! I thought I might have to build myself a spaceship to get back to Earth and…" she trailed off when she finally took notice of their grim faces. They were identical.

Gabby stepped back from them. Something was churning in her stomach.

"What's wrong?"

"Gabby Gonzalez, the Cosmic Butterfly," the Doctor had a strange smile on his face but Gabby couldn't figure it out just yet. "My family. Thank you for taking care of Renée, for helping me...for being there with me."

"...you're saying goodbye," Gabby blinked. "You're-you're leaving me? Are you dropping me back to Earth?" The same fear that had crossed Donna's face before getting her memories wiped was now on Gabby's face. "Oh God, are you sending me back?"

"No, never," the Doctor stepped towards her, allowing her to see how strained of a step it had been. In fact, he seemed strained as a whole.

Gabby looked him up and down, forgetting all about her initial fear. "You're not okay," she realized. "You're hurt." She looked past him to Renata and now she could fully understand why the Time Lady was nearly crying. Gabby looked at the Doctor again, now understanding. "You're doing it, huh? Regenerate? It's about to happen."

The Doctor nodded. "Yeah. I had to say goodbye to all my friends and you are one of them."

"But-but isn't there something we can do? Maybe-maybe—"

"No, Gabby. My time is up," the Doctor shrugged. "And it's fine. I may have not lived the best life but it's a lesson. And when I'm good, I'm going to make sure that I don't repeat the same mistakes in my next incarnation. So, this is goodbye. Thank you, Gabby."

Gabby smiled with tears in her eyes. "Goodbye, Doctor. Thank you for picking me up and showing me the stars." She moved closer and hugged him tight. If she was feeling terrible she could only imagine what Renata was going through.

"Doctor," Renata gently called, breaking them apart. "There is one more place you have to go to. She deserves one too."

The Doctor didn't say anything but he didn't have to. She could read him even when his mind was still shut off from her.

Renata held a hand out for him to take and when he did, she directed a gaze on Gabby. "Now Gabriella, we'll be back for you afterwards."

Gabby nodded. "Of course, you...you take your time." They would of course want to be alone for the next part. "I'll be here waiting...and drawing…" She had a good idea of what she wanted to draw next anyways.

~0~

January 2005.

It was New Year's and everything was in full mode party. Only a few people were out of the loop and that only because they missed it.

"I'm late now, I've missed it!" Rose Tyler grumbled while keeping her arms tightly folded over her chest. It was freezing and trying to walk through snow was not the way to get warmer. "It's midnight. Mickey'll be calling me everything. This is your fault."

"No, it's not. It's Jimbo!" Jackie Tyler exclaimed, quite indignant all the fault was being placed on her. "He said he was going to give us a lift, then he said his axle broke. I can't help it."

The mother and daughter went back and forth bickering, until they remembered it was midnight and they had just started a whole new year. They couldn't argue right now.

"Happy New Year!"

"Don't stay out all night," Rose jokingly warned her mother afterwards.

"Try and stop me!" Jackie laughed as they split up. Jackie was going home and Rose was off to find Mickey...until she heard a quiet grunt of pain behind her.

Rose looked back and saw a pair of people, a man and woman, trying to stay above the snow. It looked like the man was struggling to stand on his own because the woman was practically holding him by the waist.

"You all right, mate?" she had to call out. Anyone else would've had the good sense to run away. It was WAS New Year's after all, all the crazies were out...but Rose didn't get that vibe from either of them. "Too much to drink?"

Renata quietly laughed to herself. The Doctor drinking? That would be a sight.

"Something like that," the Doctor said to skip any unnecessary dialogue. He only had minutes left and there was still something else he wanted to do after this.

"Maybe it's time you went home?" Rose suggested, figuring he wouldn't be able to make it down the block even with the woman's help.

"Yeah," the Doctor really tried not to put all his weight on Renata but his feet weren't responding the same way anymore.

Rose figured that they didn't need her help, or probably even want her help. The woman seemed to be just fine. They were close. "Anyway...Happy New Year."

"And you," the Doctor returned and watched her leave in the opposite way. "What year is this?" he called to her suddenly, curious where she was in the timeline. Renata had set the coordinates and he hadn't had a head to pay attention.

Rose stopped to look back and laughed. "Blimey, how much have you had?!" The Doctor merely shrugged, making her laugh again. "2005, January 1st."

"2005?" he repeated, eyes widened as they landed on Renata beside him.

She smiled innocently. She'd taken him here on purpose. She learned well where the Doctor met Rose and how could she not do this for him?

The Doctor leaned his head over hers, silently thanking her for giving him this last time. A few seconds later, he smiled at Rose nostalgically. She had no idea what was to come and his heart swelled for her. It was a lovely story despite its ending. But he wouldn't trade it, he would cherish it. That time was over for him, but not for her. "2005? Tell you what. I bet you're going to have a really great year."

Rose chuckled. "Yeah?" she could with some luck. "See yah!" she waved a hand then hurried off.

"Thank you," the Doctor told Renata as soon as Rose disappeared.

Renata smiled softly at him. "Of course. Now let's get you back to the TARDIS. Won't be good for any human to see us."

She turned them back for the TARDIS and little by little they were able to get closer. Upon making the turn where the box would be, they found Ood Sigma waiting for them.

"Can we help—" Renata was about to say when the Doctor yelped in pain. He nearly fell to the ground if she hadn't reacted fast to stop him. "Sorry."

The Doctor just smiled at her. She would apologize.

"We will sing to you, Doctor. The universe will sing you to your sleep," Ood-Sigma said as he watched the pair. They then heard the gentle tune of a choir singing. "This song is ending. But the story never ends."

"He's right," Renata helped the Doctor towards the TARDIS. "Think of it as a new chapter of your book."

The Doctor only smiled at her for those kind words. He felt a bit more at peace when he was finally inside the TARDIS. It's where he was born and where he would die.

Renata shut the door behind them and brought him up to the console. When she was sure he wouldn't fall, she started the box up. A nice float in the sky might do some good, she thought. From the corner of her eyes, she could see the Doctor taking his coat off. Even that was a struggle. This particular regeneration would be a painful one due to what he'd gone through just before. Renata hoped that this wouldn't affect his next incarnation.

That's what happened to her in her previous incarnation, after all. Apart from the fact that she'd always been a bit reclusive, her last incarnation took it to the next level. She was burdened with secrets and fear because of what she'd gone through just before regenerating. The War, her sister, it moved on with her into her next incarnation. She didn't want the same thing to happen to the Doctor.

"Renata," the Doctor called to her, startling her out of her thoughts. Thinking he was losing his balance, she rushed round the console to meet him.

"I'm here, I'm here!" she assured him. He stopped her anxious hands from moving all around him. He grabbed them and held them tightly with his own. She met his gaze with confusion.

"I'm sorry," he began to say and already Renata was shaking her head. "I don't think I ever apologized for kidnapping you."

A light chuckle slipped through Renata's mouth. "Oh Doctor, you don't have to be guilty over that."

"I'm not guilty," he corrected, quieting her down with his seriousness. "I've never been guilty for kidnapping you. Truth is if I had to, I would do it again. I would steal you all over again."

Renata wanted to laugh but she also wanted to cry. So instead, something of a cross came out. "That's...that's a felony."

The Doctor was able to crack a smile. "And I've always been a thief. Anyone would try stealing you — you're Renata."

"You say that like it's supposed to mean something," she playfully rolled her eyes, but the tears clouded them. He was using up his last minutes to pay her compliments. "I'm just me."

"It does mean something, because you mean something to me." He brought one of his hands up to her cheek. "You always have and you know it. I really wish we hadn't done things the way we did. From the very beginning, I shouldn't have asked you to run with me. I should have stayed and fought for you, spoken to your family."

"It's not just on you," Renata smiled sadly. "I should've been braver. But I don't want you to think about those horrible thoughts right now. They shouldn't be the last things you think of."

"You're right, there's better things to think of. Happier ones." He stroked circles over her cheek. "Our adventures back then were pretty good, huh?"

Renata laughed softly. "Which ones? The ones where I would yell at you for nearly getting us caught? Or the ones where you would nearly get us caught?"

The Doctor put on a strained smile for her. Minutes were shortening. "Mm, it was the beginning of everything. Of us."

Renata sobered fast under his softened gaze. She knew he was in pain. His mind was still sealed off from her but she just knew. "The beginning of everything," she mused. "Yeah, I suppose it was."

The Doctor swallowed down a grunt of pain. He had to make this quick. And part of him was tired of beating around the bush, saying it with an unsure future. He was tired of that. He leaned closer to Renata and willed his words to come out in one go. "I love you, Renata. I've loved you for centuries and if I live for centuries more, you'll still be the one to own my hearts."

Renata once again smiled sadly. Her hearts jolted with the same thrill she would get in her first incarnation. Hearing him say it, to mean it like that with so much intensity...nobody else was ever able to give her that same rush. Not even her husband. "I love you too," she whispered. She touched his arms on instinct when he lowered his head to hers.

It was the same story from the past. He would hover over her lips for an agonizing minute while he took in her face. For him, it was his way to admire the beautiful woman he was about to kiss. He loved remembering it each time; his own special treat.

He finally kissed her a moment later. He made it hard straight away, like he was trying to take as much as he could before some new man stepped into his place. Renata kept up with his speed and strength. It wasn't their first kiss like this, after all, and she secretly loved them. She loved the feeling of his lips fiercely pressing against hers, his arms pulling her impossibly close to him.

Eventually, the Doctor was forced to pull away. The pain was taking him this time and there was no stopping it. "I'm sorry," he held onto Renata for a bit longer. She was just watching him, knowing what was coming now. "I love you, Gala."

A small smile spread across her face. "I love you too, Theta."

His hearts swelled in that moment. She had rarely used his name in the past. Back then, she would remind him that they should only use their names if and when they were married, just like customs demanded. The fact she even told him her name was a miracle but a testament to how much she loved him.

The Doctor moved a few steps back. Minutes were seconds now. He gazed at his hands and saw the regeneration energy beginning to flow from his fingertips. He breathed in jaggedly. He took one last look at Renata, the woman tearing up knowing this was it, and he said: "I don't want to go."

Not a second after did the energy begin to emanate from his body. There was a brief glow around his head before it turned onto a full blast. Renata yelped as the force of it knocked her back. Even the poor TARDIS couldn't handle the burst of energy. A good part of the console caught on fire while the parts that didn't spark like it eventually would. Several of the beams collapsed and crumbled while the box lurched to each side in an attempt to put the fires out.

With the lurches, the Doctor even fell backwards. By the time his back hit the ground, he was a brand new man. He jerked upright with a yelp.

"Legs. I've still got legs, good!" he exclaimed, even kissing his knee for just being there. The regeneration was definitely a wonky one, he could just feel it! "Arms! Hands! Ooh, fingers, lots of fingers!" he wiggled said fingers in front of them to make sure they were all operational. "Ears, yes! Eyes, two!" He blinked particularly hard when one of his fingers nearly poked him. Probably not the best idea to touch his eyes in a ship that had no sense of flying. "Nose, I've had worse! Chin, blimey!" He'd need a proper mirror to examine that chin later on. "Hair - I'm a girl!" He fiercely ran his hands through his longer brunette hair but he calmed himself from the shock when he felt his Adam's apple. "No! No... I'm not a girl." He stopped everything when he pulled some of his hair in front of his eyes and saw the brown shade of it. "And still not ginger! And something else, something important, I'm, I'm... I'm…"

"CRASHING!" Renata's loud scream cut him off and nearly rivaled the TARDIS' own distressed hums. She had clambered back to the console and was frantically trying to control the box before it killed them both. "We're crashing you idiot!"

The new Doctor grinned despite already being insulted. It was a beginning alright, but perhaps things wouldn't be entirely new. Things would be changing, like a metamorphosis.

Author's Note:

To be continued in...Metamorphosis!

I don't think anyone figured out what the next title was going to be called but if you did, kudos to you! The next story is already in motion if you'd like to check it out! Spoilers, you won't be seeing Gabby there until after Prisoner Zero but she WILL be a part of that story as well. I'm so excited to see her become the "alpha" companion because it's going to be super important in regards to her relationship with Amy, then Rory! And as for Ren and 11? They will be...interesting.

As for this story...the final stand-off between Ren and the Assessor was long overdue and I hope it was fitting. I even got the Doctor in there a bit too but I felt like it needed it to primarily be between the sisters. Ultimately, they both did wrong things (Renata scamming the Time Lords for a second regeneration cycle and the Assessor blackmailing her) but only Renata was able to admit it.

THANK YOU so much for all the reads/comments! I have truly loved writing this story so much and I'm happy (and sad) that I was able to finish it. I hope you continue on with me into the next story!

Fun facts of the story (I always like doing these at the end of the stories to let yall know what changed along the publishing process)

1. This was, in fact, not meant to be such a long story. I originally posted this as a one-shot to see how received it would be!

2. Renata's name was originally going to be only Renée but since I couldn't decide between that and 'Renata' I went with both. I only realized after that both names are the same and that Renée was a nickname!

3. Gabby wasn't originally going to be in the story. I learned about her when I started reading the comics and since I'm a sad Latina who is probably never going to see a Latinx companion on the series, Gabby is here to stay for a long while!

4. The Assessor wasn't in my original drafts but I felt like she would be a good addition to the story (Ren probably disagrees with me there...). I haven't decided if I ever want to bring the Assessor back in future stories but it's not a 'no' ;)

#ocappreciation #doctor who #10th doctor #dw imagine #10th doctor fics #10th doctor imagines #dw fics #oc: Renata Cartwright #oc: the assessor

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ivyveil · 5 years

Text

Don’t Leave, Stay

the one where Y/N fears that Harry only wears Gucci, Harry can actually cook, and Nick is growing more creative in his match-making

A/N: This is a continuation of my series Saint Nick (found here) and it isn’t necessarily to read them all but it helps!

“Hello, love,” he welcomed her in, one arm outstretched for a hug as the other rested on the door. He looked cozy, socked feet resting against his hardwood floor as the edges of his striped pants grazed over them, making only his toes visible.

As Y/N stepped inside his flat, she immediately picked up on the smells of a home-cooked meal, the type that took her back to days of her childhood – that sense of spice, warmth, and the sounds of sizzling foods. She was invited to a ‘dinner party’, to put it formally, between Harry and Nick; although she had not quite met Harry yet, they had all been placed in a group message by Nick and had sort of met by those means. She wasn’t entirely sure why she had been included in the plans but didn’t particularly mind, Nick was a close friend and Harry seemed nice.

Even though she and Harry had texted a fair bit, Y/N still felt like a walking bundle of nerves, plus some. She hadn’t known what to wear to Harry’s, interpreting from the memes Nick flooded the group text with that Harry had an eclectic, and expensive, taste in fashion. An hour before, she had tried phoning Nick to figure out his approach, to try and model her own after his.

Nick hadn’t picked up, though, and it had eventually neared the time that Y/N had scheduled to have a car come by to drive her to Harry’s. So, in a fit of panic and using what outfits she already mentally knew worked, Y/N opted for a pair of black jeans, buckled belt, and a cream sweater, figuring it was enough like the rest of her newfound London squad to be acceptable for a house dinner.

On her way out, dashing quickly to lock her door and stuff her key in her purse, Y/N had one quick taste of the bitter winds before realizing that – nope, a jacket was necessary. Praying her Uber wouldn’t be upset by a few seconds of tardiness, Y/N stumbled inside and grabbed an oversized gray coat, bundling herself up on the walk to the car.

Harry had removed this jacket from her shoulders as she took in his foyer, as small as it was considering he was in a flat and not his own property. She didn’t know the specifics as to why he wasn’t in his publicly-known home, but figured it had to do with privacy, needing time away, or some other celebrity-related reason.

Y/N thanked him, Harry nodding back before hanging it up in his coat closet. Y/N took the opportunity to look at the photos lined on the shelves nearing the living room. There were wooden shelves, barely varnished, with black curls extending from the edges of the bottom to the wall, securely fastened in with black nails. Various frames littered the surface, some photos lay naked without a hard border, while others were stacked in the corner. Handwriting was visible on the bottom of a few pictures.

“My family,” Harry pointed out a white frame showing a row of people with similar laugh lines, enjoying a brunch on someone’s grassy patio. Next to it was a stream of Polaroids, some with dates hastily written along the bottom, others with random words scrawled along the sides. Some of the locations Y/N recognized, such as the Eiffel Tower at night, or the local bar that was down the street from her flat (in that one, Nick had stuffed a large burger in his mouth and giving the camera two thumbs-ups.)

“Random mo’ents, the simple ones,” Harry explained, running his fingers through his hair and gently pulling at the roots. His hands rested on his hips as he sternly looked over the photos with Y/N, as if criticizing their placement. She continued to survey the photos, nodding at Harry to sign that she had heard.

It seemed quaint, in a sense of the word, how none of the pictures were related to his wild successes or rich endeavors. Granted, the traveling was a sign of doing fairly well, but nothing screamed ‘I’m a millionaire.’ A few were random nature shots, predictable for an amateur photographer (at least, she figured that was what Harry was trying to accomplish), while others were of other celebrities – but in natural places, natural poses, without any facade distinguishing them as someone apart from society. There were as he saw them: people.

Harry seemed a bit flustered. He stood far enough from Y/N for it to be considered polite, considering their status as almost-strangers, but not quite alienating her from his deemed bubble space.

“Is Nick not here, yet?” Y/N moved on from the photos, shifting her purse down her arm, grasping the strap and placing it down on the side table next to a vase of sunflowers.

Harry shook his head, turning away from the photo wall as well.

“He said he might be late, had somethin’ come up,” he shrugged, gesturing to the open doorway of the kitchen and stepping to the side to allow her to go through first. She took the hint, moving swiftly from the foyer into his cooking space and looking at the mix of vegetables, sauces, and spoons scattered along the countertops. The smell grew stronger, nicer, fuller, and her stomach growled lowly in response. It must have taken a few hours, at least, to have prepared everything and set it up – Y/N felt the slightest twinge of surprise echo in her gut. He seemed to have gone all out for a dinner together. She hoped Nick would show up soon.

While Harry got back to work shifting and shaking some pots and pans, leaning low to check on the oven, Y/N sat down on a rustic barstool by the raised countertops, clasping her fingers together and resting against the marble. He had some music playing, low, through a fancy stereo system that seemed partially ingrained into the flat itself. A candle or two sat on the countertop near Y/N, although neither were lit. The kitchen smelled heavenly already though, so it wasn’t likely they would be needed.

“Didn’t know if yeh were vegetarian or somethin’, so I made a quinoa…type of thing,” he eyed the oven, as if wary a bloody cow would squeeze out of the door.

“Ah, I try to be when I can, but it’s not a permanent diet,” she hummed, leaning forward a bit on her elbows. Harry nodded, still glancing at the oven as he continued cooking some of the veg. A few containers were already out on the table around the bend from the kitchen, one bowl full of bread and another, smaller in size, holding the spread.

His flat was a bit on the chilly side, cold licks along the holes of Y/N’s sweater and the air vibrating with the kick-in of his heater. It was cozy, blankets were strewn along the couch in his living room, but Y/N felt it wasn’t the time to wrap herself up comfortably in a burrito-esque shape.

Silence extended itself, only a smidge unwelcome, along the two people in the flat. Harry continued cooking, seeming in his element – but yet, aware that the conversation had reached a natural, but strained, standstill. He wasn’t sure where Nick was, and debated texting him for the fourth time, making sure his best friend was actually coming. He wouldn’t put it over Nick to have forgotten, to have gone out with other friends and end up in an art gallery that took away his phone so he could properly ‘drink in’ the experience.

“So,” Harry started, feeling the obligation lay mostly on him for being the Host, “-you’re workin’ at a juice company?”

Y/N nodded, reaching back to pat her hair and make sure no strays had gotten tangled. It was a good job, the concepts she worked with interested her a great deal. If there was something LA kids liked, it was their juice. The blends she assisted on manufacturing were pretty alright, too, if she said so herself. Y/N attempted to live healthy when she could afford to, but more often than not she preferred buying a salad, wrap, or other actual food as opposed to a juice. Smoothies, even, would catch her attention more than strained apples. So, her work was pleasant and intriguing but left her wanting in regard to being fulfilled, it had no impact she felt she could feel in her own, individual path of life.

“Yeah, I’m just helping out with a few advertising campaigns. I try to freelance but tend to get roped into larger projects, spend more time at their offices than I planned on.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, before standing up and stepping away from the barstools. She rounded the counter, nearing the kitchen, flashing a wary smile when Harry noticed her coming closer. She held out a hand for the spoon he was stirring a sauce with, and he shook his head, a smile toying at the corners of his lips.

“No, ma’am,” he said quietly, holding the spoon further away from Y/N, “-yeh’re the guest here. I’m the chef,” he nodded for emphasis, the cheeky grin taking over his face. His eyes scrunched a bit when he couldn’t help the smile, Y/N noted, and his nose crinkled slightly.

“I want to help, Harry. You made fun of my macaroni skills last week, I’ve gotta prove myself.”

This was true – when Y/N had suffered a particularly bad day, she had texted a photo of her TV dinner in front of her TV as she was binge-watching Breaking Bad, to which her boys replied:

(Nick Harry Y/N)

Not impressed. Harry can cook much better.

I wouldn’t say MUCH better but I know how to use more than a microwave? x.

See? Got miles on Y/N already.

Ah I bet that’s not true. x.

Wow fuck off both of you, I’m sad and this WASN’T THE SHOW TO WATCH OH MY GOD NICK WHY DIDN’T YOU WARN ME ABOUT HTIS EPISODE

Uhhhh it got your mind off work didn’t it??? Sheesh, talk about ungrateful.

Harry snorted, shaking his head at the memory, and handed her a spatula without another word. She shifted over to the other side of the stove, checking out the progress Harry had made with the various pans set up along the surface. It would be plausible to assume she missed Harry’s glance over, how it lingered on her face and hesitated a second too long before turning back to the potatoes.

But if her reddened cheeks were anything to go by, she hadn’t.

“I didn’t know what to wear, thought you might’ve opened the door in some bright blue Gucci suit,” she confessed, as a song came on she recognized. Y/N bopped her head to it casually as she cooked, snatching a stray teaspoon and trying the sauce.

She stopped the groan from her lips before it had time to manifest; Harry was a fucking good cook. Harry seemed to notice her holding back, and bit back another laugh.

“Nah, that’s Harry Styles, love. Just Harry, now.”

She imagined some jazz hands when he said his full, ‘stage’ name, feeling the emphasis on the word, like it was a performance of the pieces of himself willing to be put on display. Harry Styles basked in the audience’s cheers, feeding them back the same energy and granting himself the opportunity to take advantage of feeling on top of the world.

“What’s the difference, if you don’t mind me asking?” She turned off the heat on the pan, as Harry also killed the fire for his. He seemed preoccupied fiddling with the oven’s knobs, letting the ‘quinoa thing’ cool inside. It took a while before he answered. Some questions couldn’t be given a voice to right away, especially when it was as massive as identity, which Y/N definitely understood. She had never been forced to respond to the world with who she was, only her parents and a few concerned friends. The pressure of being so well-known was unfathomable to her.

“’M Harry all the time,” he began, a brief silence interrupting his explanation as he crossed the room to fetch some oven mitts to pull the dish out. The heat radiated outwards from the open oven, warming up his cheeks a bit more than they were naturally.

Not wanting to interrupt him, Y/N just hummed appreciatively when she smelled it; Harry was a really fucking good cook.

Her stomach growled again,

“On stage, or at interviews, or whatever, ’m Harry Styles, which is still me,” and he turned from setting the dish down to search in her eyes, for a foundation of understanding, or perhaps the lurking suspicion that he was crazy. Either one he anticipated, the concept still confused him, himself. He pulled off the oven mitts, setting them down on the counter as he thought his next few words carefully.

“’Ve gotta separate the two, but Harry is like…all-encompassing me, yeah?” His fingers drew out an orb in the air, and then he pointed at one spot on the imaginary ball. Y/N’s eyes were glued to the pretend area, pursing her lips and giving a quick nod. “That point, right there, is when I’m on stage. It’s not everything, yeh know? But it’s still me. It’s all me, but I can’t maintain that one spot all the time.

“It is the most gratifying spot, though. It’s like,” his eyes obtained the quality of glimmering at something a bit beyond the edges of the Known, an intangible sense of validation and appreciation that existed only in the space of his stage, “-’M there, and everyone else is there, and we’re all…there.” His eyes darted out, away from their safe space in the universe, to meet Y/N’s, to perhaps see if they held any laughter or mockery in them.

She only stood there, attentively, listening. No judgment in her eyes, only curiosity.

He continued.

“’T’s crazy, that people care ‘bout what I say. Or write, or sing, yeh know?” his eyes briefly closed, and he shook his head, the serious topic brushing down his spine and dissipating at his feet. The moment was over, albeit quickly but Y/N wasn’t sure what else to say – to either bring it back, or transition into another conversation.

She couldn’t grasp onto what he was saying, because experience was the only way, but she altogether understood the concept. It was a special place, for him, to be on stage – and to let him bring his whole, uninhibited self into that space would be to subject it to the validation of an entire crowd. Sometimes, aspects of people had to remain vulnerable, unapproachable, even if for criticism’s sake. His persona was crucial to his sanity, an understandable concept given the immense support he had universally.

Harry broke the quiet, chuckling a bit to himself.

“Do yeh want some wine? Dinner should be ready soon, ‘n I can see where Nick’s at…”

Y/N nodded, mumbling her thanks and mentally wondering why she hadn’t thought to bring any wine. Wasn’t that a grown up thing to do? She had no idea; she had texted Nick asking if they should bring gifts, and he had replied with:

Babe I think your presence is enough of a gift for young Haz.

From which Y/N got the impression that Harry was a lot lonelier than he let on, needing to bring in Nick’s friends for a dinner party. Or perhaps Nick simply recognized how broke Y/N was and assumed it would be kinder to let her escape the insufferable obligation of being a guest. What was proper and socially acceptable had never been drafted out for Y/N, and self-help books only served as nice paperweights.

Shifting his eyes to anywhere but Y/N, Harry went around the corner to, presumably, where his wine cellar was. Y/N was left in the kitchen to her own devices, and she took the opportunity to scurry out and grab her phone from the purse in the hallway. There was one text message from Nick in the group text.

im sooooo durnk… :0:):)

It had been sent five minutes before, an apparent hint that Nick had either forgotten or gotten so wound up in his time spent with others’, he was simply unable to make it to Harry’s. Nick was not the type to be wasted frequently, he usually stayed sober to keep an eye on those around him. He just knew how to have a nice time, drunk or sober, and appreciated the mornings after much more when he had stayed dry. But none of this was relevant, when he wasn’t there.

Y/N inhaled deeply, fingers itching for that promised glass of wine. The night spent with friends sounded nice, relaxing, full of tipsy giggles and shared anecdotes. Having Nick be an intermediate between Harry and herself had been assuring, because despite her interactions with him over text – she didn’t properly know him, right? Not the way he reacts to words, not the way his eyes seem to dig deeper than what she was normally comfortable with showing.

“Uh-” Harry called out from a few rooms away, entering with a bottle of wine tucked in his right hand and resting against his elbow, and his phone in his left hand. He was scrolling, eyebrows furrowed as he read.

“Nick not coming?” Y/N prompted, tucking her phone snug in her back pocket.

Harry shook his head, mild irritation nestling itself in the depths of his face. It wasn’t that he didn’t look forward to hanging out with Y/N, but he had been counting on Nick to help the flow of conversation, as his best friend was known to do. The idea of sitting across from Y/N with only food and wine between them worried him slightly, it was a bit intimidating. Especially after Nick hyped up his ‘other best friend’ so much.

Somehow, though, throughout the course of dinner, things smoothed out. Harry wasn’t looking down at his plate as much as he had feared, it was more about connecting with her eyes and it all felt like a continuation of a friendship Harry hadn’t known started.

The sense of a Beginning was in the past, lurking behind the sparkle in his eyes, Y/N thought, it all rang as though she and Harry were merely catching up, rather than properly introducing themselves.

But, it wasn’t ‘somehow’, it was clearly because Y/N’s laugh only encouraged Harry’s relentless jokes, making him come out of his shell more than he may have without. The way she would cover her mouth when she accidentally snorted (at a particularly bad joke, fart jokes couldn’t be funny when they’re in the 20s, could they) spurred on his own laughter. He sat, reaching for more wine, his mouth crooked in a mix between a smirk, at his own brilliance, and a smile, his stomach feeling the all-too-familiar flutters.

“What’s yeh ideal job?” Harry suddenly questioned Y/N, once the giggles had died a bit. He was sitting across from her, one arm leaning against the empty chair next to him as he casually spread his legs. Harry’s face was calm, his eyes lazily sweeping the table to spot another bread roll for his fingers to crumble apart as they spoke.

Y/N had attempted to sit proper, for as long as she could, but eventually caved into her natural slouch, her elbows resting on the table and her right hand dangling to the side with the glass of wine between her fingers. Her hair was a bit messy, but Harry didn’t bother to mention it, he sort of liked how the curled strands brushed lay against her cheek, her neck, the top bits of her forehead. It made her seem more human, her flaws were endearing.

“I don’t know if it’s an exact place,” Y/N began, toying with her wine glass and wishing she had a better answer. She knew the basics of what she wanted, what her soul craved and how her current employment wasn’t meeting those needs. Travel was fairly high up in her priorities, and LA was a great hub for those opportunities. Start-ups gave her choices in terms of diversity of company, and non-profits were fantastic work experiences. Yet, there was a voice with no origin, saying softly that her current situation was more of an obstacle than an end-goal. Y/N couldn’t help but agree with the voice, but how can one justify altering the course their life is set on, due to some intangible source?

A bit reckless.

“That’s alright,” Harry hummed, his gaze shifting from the bread roll to Y/N. She was biting her lip, perhaps without fully realizing it, the candle glow manipulating the shades of her face.

“I’ll figure it out.” It sounded more like a promise to Harry, than an assertion of Y/N feeling sure of herself.

“’M sure yeh will, love, you’re smart,” Harry replied kindly, grinning at her attempt to roll her eyes. They ended up only looking in one direction before darting back to his face, and she stuck her tongue out at his chuckling. He didn’t feel particularly comfortable pushing the topic, not having weaseled out of Nick Y/N’s backstory yet.

Dinner slowly wrapped up, each young adult equally resistant to calling the night over. Harry was telling all of the stories he could think of, deriving from his school days and when he had gone on his first tour. He strayed away from too many celebrity-based stories, adoring the sense of normalcy that had settled around the pair. He was simply Harry, his Gucci impression had worn off in her eyes, replaced by the sense that the man-child in front of her still kept his teddy bear from when he was 5 in his bedroom, propped up on his pillows.

Y/N, on the other hand, was trying to keep her glass as full as possible. But their plates were empty, and there was nothing left to do but sip at it every so often, to feel as though she wasn’t being annoying by constantly laughing at whatever intense story Harry had begun. His hands would fling out and he would lean in, as if someone were attempting to overhear his brilliant recount of sneaking out of his house to meet up with friends to trade comic books. He reached over a few times to fill her wine back up, perhaps sensing what Y/N’s plan was and complying with it, no words necessary.

Eventually, though, time could only hold back so much.

“If yeh don’t have anywhere to be tonight…” Harry began, and his eyes flickered down a bit lower than normal, not quite hitting proper eye contact. Shyness suited him, in an odd light, it was a revelation of him that went against the grains of the confident and easy-going nature Y/N had assumed from texts.

“I can show yeh the library. Well, no’ a library exactly, but it’s where I read and stuff,” he explained, scratching at his head.

“Yeah, sure, I’d love that. Love books.” was all Y/N could rally up to reply with, happy he had suggested another plan but overall very much feeling the effects of the wine.

The dishes were collected together, stacked near the sink for the inevitable time that chores and cleanliness ruled the night, and Harry led Y/N down one of his halls to a secluded room on the left.

His fingers were rough against the grey-ish cover of the book, his thumbs pressing in to keep the pages from closing together. The book was well worn, the pages’ edges mostly bent or dog-earred, the cover pages a bit splotchy and off color. It was evidently a loved book, a well used book, one that held the types of words people can’t seem to forget, yet always go searching for once more. Finding solace in a novel isn’t an easy task, especially because it’s nearly impossible to do it if it’s a goal as opposed to a circumstance.

The room wasn’t well lit, but the glistening spines of books scattered the light everywhere so most corners of the room had, at the very least, a warmth. It was the epitome of a study; deep cherry wood stain running along the bookshelves and the couches and seat cushions were hardened by leather. It all felt very dense and compact inside, although there was a yellow dream-catcher dangling above Harry’s desk. A spry, free moment within the organized dictatorship of organization. Perhaps he felt it would give his life more order; from what Nick had mentioned to Y/N, there had been more chaos than anything else as of late.

80s music stretched the sides of the walls, coming from Harry’s record player balanced on top of some dictionaries in the corner. It was the only noise, save the rain against his window in the middle of the back wall. Two seats were against the window, on opposing sides, and themselves bordered by full bookshelves. Harry was curled up in one, his striped legs tucking themselves over the edge of the seat and dangling above the floor. His back rested against the wall, a black shirt with rolled sleeves and a small sauce stain on the shoulder. She had told him it wasn’t noticeable, especially since the fabric was so dark anyway, but his nose still wrinkled because it was his favorite black shirt.

He was quietly flipping through his old copy, the elegant words never failing to keep him enthralled. His fingers tugged on his lower lip as he read, absentmindedly twirling against his chin and mouth.

Y/N didn’t mind that he was preoccupied within his literary universe; she had a copy of some other thick, heavily angsty novel from his shelves and was pretty content with her position in the seat next to Harry. It was late, late enough for yawns to continuously pull out of her mouth and force Harry to shuffle in his chair every now and again, to keep from falling asleep.

Eventually, she accepted the reality of the situation. It was late, or perhaps even early at this point, and Harry hadn’t implied anything about her staying the night over. Not that she expected him to, especially not in a romantic way, but she much preferred his cozy flat to her disarrayed one. Not to mention the knowledge that someone was next to her, that she wasn’t completely alone - it all felt comforting. A feeling that had evaded her heart for the longest time, considering she usually worked late hours and was always being thrust into different environments.

Looking over her shoulder and seeing Harry, who had expected nothing of her except what she wanted to provide, was nice. Similarly for Harry, Y/N was one of the loveliest people he had met recently, a woman who wasn’t so wrapped in her own ego she couldn’t see beyond that blurry haze, a woman who got shit done but wasn’t afraid to recognize room for improvement. Plus, she hadn’t asked any questions that would be out the norm, no references to his stardom or One Direction days (he had half-feared she would bring up one of the memes Nick had posted two days ago, which was particularly scandalous and reminded him of mistakes long ago). She let him explain who he was, and took him at that.

“Maybe I should get going…” she mumbled, her throat thick with lack of use in the past few hours, as she shifted up out of the seat. The time had escaped her, checking her phone would be checking into a reality she didn’t want to intrude on her lovely night.

Harry glanced up, half-dazed, before putting his book to the side.

“Oh, yeah, ‘ suppose. What time is’t?” he groaned, rolling to his side to check his phone. Apparently, more time had gone by than either of them thought, because he immediately shook his head.

“Don’t feel comfortable lettin’ yeh go home this hour, love. Cabs full of odd people, don’t like it,” he grumbled, bringing his legs over to the proper side of the chair and standing up slowly. He ran his fingers through his hair, attempting to control the little he had at the moment, as Y/N tried to remember where she had put her purse. They had opened another wine bottle before cracking into the books, their glasses still holding a few droplets on their coasters, but it hadn’t helped the fog that overcame her mind.

“I think we’re still a lil gone, Haz,” Y/N spoke softly, and if his heart didn’t skip at that, “-I don’t think getting behind the wheel is too smart…”

Harry shook his head. “Nah, planned on gettin’ the guest room set up.”

And he took the steps forward to meet Y/N, his hands tucking gently into his pockets. His hair was tousled, half to one side and the loosely shaved sides curling the tiniest bit against each other. He sniffed, swaying back and forth a bit, not moving enough to suggest he was in a rush to the guest room. His eyes were intent on Y/N’s, as she felt another laugh stir up in her, leaving her mouth only as a half-breath with the slightest sway to a giggle.

The slurred nature of a night spent late, especially with the addition of good company and good wine, tended to create a private atmosphere, where both parties are convinced that their actions would never impact another aspect of their life. The night was independent, special, and epic. Nothing could’ve prevented this, really, Y/N figured, recognizing the question floating against Harry’s breath. If only he would ask it…

His eyes slowed in their journey around her face, narrowing to only staring her lips, as if they held the last of the nectar and he was desperate to become a god. She had been biting them again, but once she realized where his attention had gone, her lower lip was released.

Y/N stood, her hands still clutching the book she had started, and if anyone asked her at that moment, she couldn’t even remember the title, the author, her own name.

Harry was pleased enough to inform her, through a voice weighed down with the drunken lust of a man holding back, “Y/N…”

She stayed quiet, almost frozen into a statue of her former self.

“Can I…could I…kiss yeh?” His hands made the motion as if they were coming out of their pocket restraints but paused, trying to gauge her reaction before acting any further. If Harry was reading the signs wrong, this would have been utterly disastrous.

Y/N’s lips parted, quite in shock that the words had slipped out of his mouth instead of hers, when she felt the same thought cross her mind so intensely. Shaking her head ‘yes’, her heart and her mind collaborated to attempt and figure out what was going on.

And Harry never looked so pleased with himself, his eyes dashing up and down her face, not quite sure where to land when her eyes were sparkling like that, her cheeks were so flush, her lips were already bitten red and her fingers were setting the book on a side table.

Harry reached out, one hand hesitantly laying on her waist and another reaching out to gently glide over her cheek. She was so soft, inside and out, his fingers drifted to the nape of her neck. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her lips came together in the slightest bit, the shade of a raspberry practically and -

The front door thrashed open, the click of a key apparently having gone over the both of them in the haze of excitement and Monumental Things Occurring. A stumbling man came through, visible from their position near the library doorway, as the foyer was cut out as an area between the kitchen and bedrooms/study.

Nick held up two bottles of champagne in one hand, seemingly haven drunken one quite fine by himself, squealing to himself over some joke he had thought of on the way inside.

“Harry! Y/N! My besties,” he sang, wiggling his hips and handing the bottles off to Harry. Y/N and Harry had separated, instinctively, as soon as the door had opened, and now Harry only looked at her in obvious dismay, unsure with how to proceed.

“C’mon, Nick, you had your water?” Y/N took ahold of the situation, walking forward to gently guide Nick by the elbow. It was a comfortable routine, between her and Nick, and she knew from his incoherent grunts that yes, he had his water, although he didn’t like it very much.

She didn’t bother to look at Harry, unsure what words could fill up distance. Nick began jabbering about his night out, the expensive dishes and luxury galore that he had dabbled in, and how he would’ve been thrilled to take her and Haz along, but he knew Haz had been slaving away on the dinner – and he so meant to make it back in time to grab some of Harry’s dinner rolls.

That was when Nick began tittering again, glancing madly at the wallpaper as Y/N and Harry both led him to the guest room, that had previously been Y/N’s in a prior conversation, in what felt like a prior decade.

“Did ya touch Harry’s buns, yeah?” he asked Y/N, eyes alight with mischief.

Harry snorted with laughter, pulling away from Nick to pull back the billowing comforter on the bed and prop up the pillows so they would be nice and fluffed for his dear, drunk friend. Y/N worked on sitting Nick down, grasping his phone out of his hand and putting it safely within the side table drawer, knowing Nick had a tendency of texting the wrong people when he was newly hungover.

“I would like it if yeh still stayed, I’ve still got a half of my bed,” Harry whispered, after they had successfully pulled Nick’s socks off and he was fast asleep under the covers, like a small boy who had crashed from his sugar high. They looked like two parents, each looking fondly at their boy, their fingers like ghosts drifted closer to each other’s, before hesitating, and drawing away.

“Just sleeping,” Y/N confirmed, eyebrows raised to signify that she wasn’t planning on lowering her borders again. The night had closed the possibilities for the time, they were who they were at the dining table. A bit awkward, the silence unrelenting. Two new friends, who both needed to come together for Nick.

Harry blinked slow, a smile growing on his face as he nodded, seeming at bliss with that.

He held the door open for her, as he did when she first entered his flat, and similarly she passed him with a furtive glance that sent him in small, tipsy giggles.

“Yeah, love, just sleeping.”

—————————————————

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Let me know your thoughts here, and check out the rest of my works if you’d like!

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #archive of our own #mine #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #saint nicholas verse #snv

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ranxiaolong · 5 years

Text

She Shot Me

Summary: How the woman had lived this long and never played laser tag was beyond the humans aboard the TARDIS, but that would change today.

Pairing: The Doctor (13) x fem!reader

Warnings: There’s some very steamy kissing and a bit of suggestive content

A/n: Please tell me your thoughts! I love feedback!

“I can’t believe that you’ve been alive two thousand years and have never played laser tag.”

The Doctor shrugged.

Yaz, Ryan, and (Y/N) exchanged a glance before nodding simultaneously.

“We’re taking you to laser tag,” Ryan gave an authoritative nod.

“I’m not getting a say in this, am I?” the Time Lord stated, half glum and half amused.

“Nope,” (Y/N) chirped cheerfully, “Besides, It’s a crime you haven’t done it at least once.”

The Doctor opened her mouth, ready to dive into one of her long explanations, “Actually—”

“Shut up, Doc.” The Doctor was cut off by an exasperated sigh.

The Doctor landed the TARDIS on a primarily humanoid populated spaceship. Well… gameship. According to the Doctor, the ship primarily held various games that people came from all over the universe to play. The largest arcade in the galaxy, complete with a ball pit that took both (Y/N) and Yaz over ten minutes to pull the Doctor out of.

After Team TARDIS managed to drag the Doctor through the distraction riddled spacecraft, they finally reached a long line that disappeared into a dark entryway, a neon sign blinking above it, giving a very retro look, that read “Laser Tag.”

Graham raised an eyebrow at the winding line, “Do we have to wait in that?” He turned to Yasmin, Ryan, and (Y/N) who looked at each other before grinning.

“Well...” Ryan starts.

“Don’t need to,” Yaz looked at (Y/N).

“See?” (Y/N) dangled the worn leather wallet that held the Doctor’s psychic paper.

Graham looked slightly incredulously at Yasmin, “Aren’t you a police officer? Shouldn’t you be against pickpocketing?”

Yasmin shrugged with a grin still on her lips, “This is a special case.”

“Yeah,” Ryan slung his arm over y/n’s shoulders, “we’re fixing a crime. The crime of the Doctor never playing laser tag.”

(Y/N) and Ryan quickly dabbed before bursting out laughing.

Graham couldn’t help but roll his eyes but a smile tugged on his lips.

(Y/N) clapped a hand on Ryan’s back as she craned her neck to see the employee who was letting people into the laser tag area. “Right, you go drag the Doctor over here,” (Y/N) jerked her thumb in the direction the Doctor was trying to go unnoticed towards, “while I...” (Y/N)’s tongue poked between her teeth as she analysed a frizzy, dark haired girl in a uniformed black t shirt and pants, “go do some convincing.” (Y/N) winked towards the rest of the group then bounded off towards the unsuspecting woman who was standing somewhat bored at the entryway.

Yasmin starred after her for a moment in confusion before her eyes widened slightly and a snort left her mouth. “Go get the Doctor,” Yaz nodded towards Ryan, “It won’t take long for (Y/N) to flirt with that girl and get us in.”

“Sweet.” Ryan turned around to chase after the Time Lord and drag her back towards the group.

Graham continued to watch (Y/N) as she conversed with the woman, tapping Yaz’s arm and pointing when (Y/N) disappeared behind a black curtain with the employee after showing the woman the psychic paper. Yasmin and Graham were both intently watching the spot where the two had been standing for a few minutes before seeing (Y/N) emerge from the dark curtain, hair slightly mussed and a light pink smear across her mouth and neck.

“We’re good to go,” (Y/N) had a wide grin plastered to her mouth as she fiddled with a few loose buttons on her shirt, “you catch the Doc yet?”

Yasmin rolled her eyes while she fished out a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped at the smears on (Y/N)’s skin.

“Oi! I got her!” Ryan yelled as he dragged the Time Lord behind him.

“Great, let’s go.”

“Okay, so for our first timers here or for anyone that needs a refresher, I’ll be going over the rules of the game.” A boy that looked to be in his late teens or early twenties was buzzing with energy while standing in front of a large screen in the dim room filled with people. “You will be split into two teams, and each team has a base you need to protect. The goal is to both protect your base and infiltrate the other side’s base. Whichever team scores the most points at the enemy base wins.”

Ryan exchanges a subtle fist bump with (Y/N).

”You score points on a base by shooting at the sphere on the ceiling inside until the defense bar reaches zero.” The screen behind the boy lit up with an image of the said sphere, “The amount of damage is displayed next to the sphere, so you will know exactly how much it more it will take to score a point. The room is set up with various mazes and other obstacles that you can use to your advantage in protecting your territory.”

Ryan leaned over towards (Y/N)’s ear, whispering, “A bit techy, but still good old fashioned laser tag.”

“We have a variety of different items you can use in the room that mimic human technology of the time period, ranging from small handguns to larger models like rifles and snipers. The guns do have a limit of up to three shots per second, depending on the model, and they need to be ‘reloaded’ or recharged to fire more ammunition. On the side of the gun will be a bar showing how much ammo you have left before you need to recharge.”

(Y/N) lightly bumps against Ryan’s shoulder, “But definitely good techy, eh?” A grin pulls on both of their lips. “Oh, yeah.”

“Now, would everyone please look at the black wristband we had you put on when you entered the room? Could you all please tap the display screen? The wristband does a full body scan and can detect if you have been hit by a laser by detecting the infrared light and an electromagnetic charge on a localized spot on your body. You will feel a slight zap and hear a small beep to notify you if you are hit, but it is completely harmless. If you do get hit, a timer will appear above your head, counting down from sixty seconds, and you are stuck within a one meter radius of where you were hit until the timer reaches zero, then you will be teleported back to your base’s teleport pad. Are there any questions?”

(Y/N) turned around to see if the Doctor was unclear on any of the rules of the game, when (Y/N) noticed that the Doctor’s gaze was not on the boy who just gave the rules, and her eyebrows drawn together with a frown tugging on her lips. (Y/N) followed the alien’s line of sight to the frizzy haired woman from before. As soon as (Y/N) locked eyes with the woman (who had apparently been looking at her the entire time) the woman sent a flirtatious wink towards (Y/N). (Y/N) gave her a half smile in acknowledgment before turning back to the Doctor, who’s expression had become even more sour.

“Hey Doc, did you get all of the rules? You seem a bit distracted.”

“Protect the base, invade the opposing base, don’t get shot.” The Doctor didn’t look away from the woman and her voice was a bit more tense than usual.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened at the Doctor’s stiff tone. The always bubbly and excitable woman was hardly ever like this. There were times where she was more serious and tense, sure, but that was when they were in situations that were significantly closer to the life or death of an entire planet rather than listening to instructions on how not to get zapped by a blue beam from a toy.

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed, “Is something wrong, Doctor?” Her puckered frown deepened but she shook her head, not taking her eyes off of the frizzy haired woman.

That was odd.

Was the Doctor intrigued by the woman?

No, she looked too grumpy for that to be the case.

Did the Doctor not like the attention the woman was giving (Y/N)?

Well that seemed pretty obvious given the limited information.

Did the Doctor think the woman was attractive?

Well, who knew really? She never expressed who (or what, for that matter) she found attractive.

Did the Doctor want to take the woman with them to travel?

From what (Y/N) picked up from various things left around the TARDIS and scattered pictures in a few rooms, the Doctor certainly had a history with woman in some form or another, many looking like they had all of ten seconds preparation before hopping aboard the TARDIS.

Did the Doctor like her?

That one tasted particularly bitter in (Y/N)’s mouth.

A small grimace made its way onto (Y/N)’s lips as she leaned her head against Yasmin’s shoulder.

Yasmin rested her cheek on (Y/N)’s head, “what’s wrong?”

A grunt bubbled up (Y/N)’s throat, all intelligible words lost in the process.

Yasmin’s gaze slid over to the Doctor.

“Ah.”

“Mhhh.”

Yasmin wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s waist and rubbed soft circles with her thumb.

The Doctor didn’t notice that Yaz had caught the Doctor’s eyes glancing at her hand.

“So how are we going to do this?”

Ryan placed a hand on Yasmin and (Y/N)’s shoulders.

“We should probably split up onto different teams, especially,” Yasmin pointed at the Doctor, “her.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t worry Doc, you got all the instructions. Besides, we haven’t won at any games against you yet, and we want to win this one.”

“I’ll team up with the Doc, then,” Graham piped up, “I’m not sure how good I’ll be at this but it should be fun.”

“Great. Yaz, Ryan, and I will go to the Blue Team and you two go to the Red Team.” (Y/N) cracked her knuckles.

“What will the winner get?” Ryan’s eyebrows furrowed, “If we’re having a competition we need a prize—”

“A kiss from me. We can figure it out later,” (Y/N) interrupted, “we need to get to our sides soon.”

As the words fell out of (Y/N)’ mouth, the rest of the humans comprising Team TARDIS glanced at the Doctor, whose face had flushed momentarily at (Y/N)’s proposal.

“How about dinner on the looser?”

“You want to chance leaving dinner up to her?” (Y/N) jabbed a finger in the Doctor’s direction.

“Oi!”

“Right, bad idea.”

“Hey!”

The boy who explained the rules clapped twice, “We need everyone to split into teams!” The boy held up a hand, lines on his glove and shirt glowing red. “Those on the Red team, gather here so I can take you to your equipment. Those on the Blue Team gather by Mir-Lek.” The boy gestured with his other arm towards the frizzy haired girl who's glove was glowing blue.

“Those on the Blue Team gather here, I’ll be taking you to your base and equipment.”

Yasmin and (Y/N) turned to follow Ryan, who was halfway towards towards Mir-Lek. “I guess we’ll see you guys in the arena.”

The Doctor waved after the group as they walked away. Her eyes followed (Y/N) as Mir-Lek smiled at (Y/N) and the frizzy haired woman’s posture became more flirty.

The Doctor grimaced before trudging off with Graham to the group for the Red Team.

“Don’t you think she’s a bit too good for her first time playing this game?” Ryan’s out of breath voice sounded from behind (Y/N)’s crouched form. “She’s scored more than ten points on our base for this round already. I thought it was beginner's luck in the first few rounds we played, but this is getting ridiculous.”

A grimace graced (Y/N)’s lips, “We really need to step up our game this round or we are going to lose this one too.”

Yasmin raised her hand to her mouth in thought, “Is there a surefire way to distract her?”

Ryan’s face lit up, “That’s it!”

Both Yaz and (Y/N) turned to look at Ryan. “What? You have an idea?” Yasmin’s head tilted slightly.

“We play dirty.”

Yasmin and (Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed before understanding passed through their eyes. (Y/N)’s brows furrowed.

“But she’s not interested, that’s only how it work on other people.”

“Come on, (Y/N). Open your eyes and you would see she’s looking at you, not someone else.”

(Y/N) bit her lip.

“Hey. And if it doesn’t work out, rounds on me.” Ryan lightly patted (Y/N)’s back. “I’ll also get you that ice cream from that place you like on the corner next to the bakery.”

(Y/N) let out a sigh and nodded.

“Sooo, can you get the Doctor?”

A smirk edged it’s way onto (Y/N)’s face, “Don’t worry. Leave the Doctor to me.”

(Y/N) was crouched behind a barrier near the edge of a maze, where she found out from the sniper on the top of the tower the Doctor used as a way to pass through most of the main defenses by the front of the base.

(Y/N) closed her eyes, her senses concentrated on any approaching footsteps. She pressed an ear to the ground, soft footfalls reverberating through the floor. The (h/c) girl lifted her head and pressed her fingers to the floor, ready to pounce on the incoming person.

The Doctor rounded the corner, not seeing (Y/N) crouched on the ground, in a half sprint. (Y/N) launched up from her hiding place at the Doctor, who turned around and was raising her gun when (Y/N) slammed into her. The Doctor’s gun slips from her hands, clattering on the floor, and (Y/N) backed her up and pins the Doctor’s hands to the wall behind her.

The Doctor’s breath hitched and her heartbeats quickened. The Time Lord’s teeth grazed her lower lip and her arms tensed, hands clenching. (Y/N) was close. Too close. Not really, but too close for for her sanity to take at the moment. She could feel (Y/N)’s warm breath coming out in quick puffs across her flushed skin. She wasn’t red from running, compared to most of their adventures, the running was light. Very light. But (Y/N)’s scent was flooding her nose and her brain was short circuiting. She had to get away. This was bad. The Doctor’s eyes darted from (Y/N)’s eyes down to her lips for a fraction of a second. This was very bad. She wouldn’t be able to control herself in this position. She needed to—

The Doctor’s eyes went wide as soft lips crashed against her mouth. The Doctor’s limbs went limp, her legs weak and barely supporting her weight. (Y/N)’s hands moved to one resting on the Doctor’s shoulder and the other cupping her cheek as she was raised on her toes. The Doctor’s eyes fluttered closed as (Y/N)’s lips moved against hers.

(Y/N) pulled away and the Doctor stood dazed, her eyes fluttered open. The air was heavy and a buzz dulled the Doctor’s senses. She barely processed as (Y/N)’s eyes flicked between her eyes and lips, bringing (Y/N)’s face to hers again. This time was more desperate, more needy. The Doctor brought (Y/N) as close to her as she could, as if this was the last time she would breath the sweet oxygen that was (Y/N)’s lips. The Time Lord felt (Y/N) moan against her mouth and a spark of heat ignited in the pit of her stomach.

The Doctor lost her hands in (Y/N)’s hair, tangling them in an effort to bring the rambunctious human impossibly closer to her lips. She felt fire where (Y/N)’s hands were trailing down her sides. (Y/N) pressed the Doctor more firmly against the wall with her pelvis, a moan drawn from the Doctor’s lips as her hips automatically jerked towards (Y/N)’s.

(Y/N) teased one of her hands down the Doctor’s hips, and the Time Lord whimpered when the human’s fingers retracted from their trail along her side.

The Doctor felt a small pressure between her breasts, and her heart rates increased. She felt a small electric zing and a faint beep that didn’t fully register in her brain.

(Y/N) pulled away, and the Doctor leaned forward, trying to chase her lips before processing the sound.

The Doctor’s eyes shot open as (Y/N) took a step backwards, a cheeky grin splitting her face, the gun still held up and level with the Doctor’s chest.

The Doctor’s jaw dropped open in disbelief, turning her gaze to above her head. Red numbers flashed above her head. 53.

“That’s not fair!”

(Y/N) bit her tongue while grinning, “All’s fair in love and war,” (Y/N) sang. The Doctor felt her heartbeats quicken. (Y/N) spun around on her heal, a flirty sway in her hips right before she dashed off.

A sway the Doctor very much enjoyed watching.

The Doctor sighed and lightly traced her lips with her fingers, waiting for the timer to finish.

Yasmin, Ryan, and (Y/N) were cheering loudly in their booth in a bar, their victory being celebrated with food and drinks.

Their win was stifling. After (Y/N) had cornered the Doctor, the Blue Team’s look out had been sending (Y/N) in the Doctor’s path, and every time the Doctor caught sight of (Y/N) she would fumble and either (Y/N) or a nearby sniper would hit the Time Lord. The Red Team had been heavily relying on the Doctor for points, and with her being distracted, they had to send more people out to infiltrate the Blue fortress, leaving their defenses weaker to the mass raids made by the Red Team on their base.

The Doctor and Graham sat across from the energetic group. Graham smiled at their enthusiasm. The Doctor was pouting at her loss, but was trying not to let on that she didn’t care as much as she was letting on. She was still having trouble keeping eye contact with (Y/N), but (Y/N)’s lack of gaze in her direction at the moment was a small relief and sting at the same time.

Ryan leaned more on top of (Y/N), “So what is our prize for winning?”

Ryan and Yasmin’s arms around (Y/N)’s shoulders, (Y/N) squished between the two other humans in the booth.

“Yeah, what should we get?” Yasmin popped the foreign snack on the table into her mouth, small deep fried local vegetables of some sort, heavily inspired by Earth’s Asian cuisine.

(Y/N) grinned, “I thought it was decided.” (Y/N) pecked Yasmin’s then Ryan’s cheek. “A kiss from me.”

Yasmin broke out laughing and Ryan lightly hit (Y/n)’s shoulder, a smile on his face. “Well, I suppose it will have to do.”

(Y/N) gasped in mock offence, “Rude.”

“But you know you love us,” Yasmin sang beside (Y/N).

“Unfortunately.”

The Doctor bit her lip at the display, remembering the kiss she received, and a bubble of satisfaction rose in her chest that her kiss was better.

She felt like she was the one who had won.

(Y/N) was walking down one of the many criss-crossing hallways inside of the TARDIS with a bounce in her step, lightly humming to herself, hands crossed behind her head.

As (Y/N) was mid-step, she was pulled down an adjacent hallway. (Y/N) found herself trapped against the wall between the Doctor’s arms.

“I think you owe me for what you pulled in that last round,” the Doctor growled out, voice slightly raspy.

“Oh? I do, do I?” (Y/N)’s eyes flicked down from the Doctor’s eyes to her lips momentarily, and the Doctor felt her breath catch in her throat.

Barely a whisper was breathed out, faces centimeters apart. “Yeah.”

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chocolatequeennk · 7 years

Text

Red and White, Be Mine Tonight

On a New Year’s Eve on an alien planet, the Doctor and Rose take an important step in their relationship. Ten x Rose, teen.

This story is set in the True Things ‘verse, after Believing and Knowing and before Jackie Tyler Saves the Universe.

I used two squares on the @timepetalsprompts winter fic bingo card: white and wish.

Their outfits--and thus a great deal of the background for the gala--was inspired by this painting by @the-untempered-prism

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP

The Doctor sighed in contentment as Rose cuddled closer to him. These moments spent in the hazy afterglow of lovemaking were some of the favourites he shared with her. He loved the intimacy of knowing this time belonged only to them. The sweetness of the temporary telepathic connection that came to life each time they made love only highlighted the specialness.

Their skin cooled as sweat evaporated, and he tugged the duvet up to cover them. At the same time, he began to withdraw from her mind like he always did.

A soft sound of dissatisfaction stopped him. “Rose?” He brushed a kiss to her forehead. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” She sighed and kissed his chest, in between his hearts. “I wish we didn’t have to undo our telepathic connection every time we’re done making love.”

The Doctor’s hand was raised, poised so he could run his fingers through her hair. Her mumbled confession shocked him, though, and he froze. A moment later, his hand landed somewhat heavily on her head, and Rose shifted until he had his hand wrapped around her shoulder.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours?” she asked. “I hope I didn’t make you think this isn’t enough for me. Because it is, it really is. Travelling through time and space with my alien lover.” She grinned up at him as she said that, and he tilted his head to capture that tongue in a kiss.

His mind kept working, though. Because contrary to her fears, her words hadn’t made him think she was unhappy with their relationship—they’d given him hope that she might be interested in more.

oOoOoOoOo

“So, where are we off to?” Rose asked the Doctor the next morning. Her legs swung back and forth as she sat on the jump seat, watching him fly the TARDIS.

To her surprise, he tugged at his ear—a sure sign that he was nervous. “Well, I happen to have an invitation to the New Year’s ball on Ostrao,” the Doctor said. “I thought we could put on formal clothes and go tonight?”

Rose slid off the jump seat and walked over to him. “You’re going to risk the Tux of Doom?” she teased, tugging gently on his tie.

The Doctor’s hands landed on her waist and he pulled her close. “I’m going to be very, very careful with the coordinates,” he promised. “And the TARDIS says she’ll help. I just…” He sighed and brushed his thumbs over her hips. “I want to take you someplace special.”

Rose smiled at him. “Yeah, that would be nice. That would be lovely, actually.”

The Doctor grinned and spun around the console. “And there will be no Tux of Doom. The dress code for this event is a bit strict, as you will discover when you go to the wardrobe room.”

“What do you mean?” Rose asked.

He threw the lever, then shooed her off as the time rotor started its slow chug. “Go on; you’ll find out.”

Rose raised an eyebrow, but the Doctor just laughed and pushed gently on the middle of her back. “Go! I’ll meet you back here in an hour.”

She shook her head, but her steps were eager as she left the console room. If he’d sent her to the wardrobe room, he really was planning something special.

When Rose stepped inside the cavernous room, she immediately understood the Doctor’s oblique remarks. The entire area near the door was filled with racks of red and white dresses. “Oh, these are gorgeous,” Rose told the TARDIS as she flipped quickly through the first rack.

A sleeveless white satin and lace top caught her eye, and she set it aside and moved to a rack of skirts. A thought occurred to her as she rejected five taffeta skirts—if the Doctor wouldn’t be in his tux because of the dress code, that must mean he’d be in red and white, too. Which, by extension, meant that for once, he’d be wearing something she’d never seen before.

Rose bit her lip, and her fingers fumbled with a few hangers. She had no idea how he’d pull off red and white, but she was positive he’d look gorgeous in his new outfit.

She paused on a long, velvet skirt in a rich shade of crimson. “Oh, that’ll look amazing,” she murmured, and took both garments over to her vanity so she could change.

A quick look in the mirror thirty minutes later assured Rose that she looked ready for a holiday gala. “Wish me luck,” she whispered to the TARDIS as she walked out of the room, and the ship wrapped her in a warm telepathic hug.

The Doctor’s back was to her when she entered the console room, and a smile tugged at her lips when she spotted his outfit. “Of course you have a red and white pinstriped suit,” she teased. “Looks like it fits just like your brown one—do you just have the same suit in a variety of colours?”

“Well, I do have—”

The Doctor’s sentence trailed off into silence when he turned around and caught sight of Rose. Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and she’d found a red velvet cloak to wear over her dress. He took half a step toward her, already itching to feel the plush texture beneath his fingers.

She held her arms out so the cloak would fall away from her body a little, letting him see some of the gown. “What do you think?” she asked, giving a quick twirl.

“Blimey, you’re gorgeous, love,” he whispered. He sighed when he reached for her; the fabric of the cloak and skirt were almost as soft as her skin.

Rose’s eyes lit up. “Not just considering I’m human?” Her tongue teased him, drawing his attention to her lips, painted deep red to match her gown.

He shook his head firmly. “You are gorgeous, full stop.”

She tugged on his red tie until he bent down enough that she could reach his lips. I love you.

The Doctor pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. These little bits of telepathic contact only teased them both, but hopefully, if she agreed, they could have more after tonight.

He glanced down at her and locked that thought up as tightly as he possibly could; the real purpose of their trip tonight was supposed to be a surprise.

“You know,” he said after he cleared his throat. “We’ve already landed. We should probably go outside before we miss the entire party.”

Rose nodded quickly and spun away from him. “Tell me about where we are,” she asked as he pushed the doors open.

The Doctor smiled at her little gasp of awe when she saw the planet. The path to the palace was lined with trees, and for the gala tonight, they’d been covered in thousands of fairy lights. The twinkling lights reflecting on the freshly fallen snow made the planet sparkle.

He shut the doors behind them and took her hand. “Ostrao is the centre of the Saulea Empire,” he said as they walked towards the palace gates. “They’re very big on celebrating transitions and new beginnings in this culture, so the start of the new year is the biggest holiday of all.”

“And why red and white?” Rose asked. They could see other guests arriving now, all of them dressed in the same two colours.

“White symbolises newness, and red is for happiness.”

They were quiet for a few minutes as they entered the palace. Like the trees, the walls and ceiling were lit with fairy lights. Red satin streamers and banners hung from the ceiling, and even the invitation the Doctor handed over at the door was red ink printed on white vellum.

“You actually had a real invitation?” Rose whispered to him. “I thought you just meant we’d use the psychic paper to get in, like usual.”

“Nope!” He popped the p and bounced on his toes. “This time, I was really invited. I might have saved the current king from an assassination attempt a few years back. Or is it a few years in the future? I don’t know… pretty sure it’s the current king, though.”

Rose giggled and poked him in the side. “You’re barmy,” she told him, her eyes sparkling up at him.

“And yet you love me,” he countered. “What does that say about your sanity?”

They reached the cloakroom and she undid the tie on her cape. “Barking mad, me,” she agreed as she slid it off and handed it to the attendant.

The Doctor swallowed hard when he got his first unobstructed view of her outfit. The white lacy top was sleeveless, leaving her shoulders bare. That was more enticing to him than cleavage would have been, and he couldn’t resist pressing a line of barely-there kisses to her right shoulder.

Rose stepped away from him and took his hand. “I thought you’d like that,” she whispered as they entered the ballroom.

“I’d like it if you danced with me,” he countered, pulling her towards the floor. She smiled happily, but he could feel her sense of humour bubbling at the edge of his awareness, and he waited for her teasing comments.

They weren’t long in coming. “Dancing first thing?” She wrapped one arm around his shoulders while he placed a hand on her waist. “No excited babbling about nibbles, or how this ballroom was designed by some famous architect?”

The Doctor shook his head and drew her close, sighing when she rested her cheek against his chest. “No more deflection, remember?” he whispered in her ear. “No more running, no more pretending.”

“So all those times you came up with ridiculous facts…”

“I was trying to distract you—or myself—from the undeniable intimacy of whatever situation we’d found ourselves in,” he confirmed.

She snuggled closer to him and he tightened his hold on her. “I think I like the new no-running Doctor.”

“Yeah?” The Doctor tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. “Enough to stay with him?”

Rose huffed and pulled back enough to glare at him before settling against him again. “You’re daft,” she said bluntly. “Of course I’m staying with you.”

He managed to swallow, finally, and choke out his next question. “How—how long are you going to stay with me?”

“Forever.”

She sounded so sure, so certain—like she’d never considered any other possibility. He wanted to ask her how long ago she’d made that decision, but he knew he needed to get through the next few steps before she really figured out that all the agitation she could sense telepathically was his.

The Doctor navigated them to the edge of the dance floor. “You know, you never asked if there was a reason I’d chosen this year in particular to use the invitation.”

Rose looked up at him. “Is there?”

He took her hand and tugged her away from the crowds. “Oh, yes.”

The Doctor’s anxiety finally came through to Rose as he led her up a narrow, twisting staircase. Not for the first time, she wished they could have the same deep connection they shared while making love all the time. Being able to pick up on what he was feeling without understanding why he was upset didn’t do much good.

She shot him a sidelong look. Well, at least he doesn’t really look that worried, she thought. More nervous than anxious, maybe?

A moment later, her ponderings were interrupted when he led her out onto a balcony. Rose shivered in the winter night air, and the Doctor quickly wrapped her in his arms, resting his chin on her shoulder so he could whisper in her ear.

“Look up at the sky. It should start any minute.”

Rose leaned back against his chest and stared at the unfamiliar stars. One twinkled, then seemed to fall through the atmosphere, and she made a wish on it as it flared and then burnt out. Please, let me stay with him forever.

Something shimmered just at the edge of her vision, and she turned her head to watch it. The small burst of colour was already fading, but another soon followed, and then another.

“It’s the Northern Lights,” Rose breathed.

The Doctor hummed. “Only they’re much rarer on Ostrao than they are on Earth. The Saulean sun isn’t nearly as active as old Sol; the aurora only happen here once or twice in a generation. And tonight is the only time in millennia of recorded history that they happen on the night of the New Year.”

He hesitated for a moment, then Rose felt his mind brush against hers. She started to relax into his telepathic embrace, but he pulled back just enough to make that impossible.

“Doctor?”

He sighed, and Rose shivered when his breath tickled her neck. “Last night, you said you wished we could be like this all the time,” he said, bringing his mind just a little bit closer to hers. “What would you say if I told you we could?”

Rose turned in his arms so she could see his face, but the Doctor pressed his finger to her lips before she could tell him how much she wanted that.

“Before you… before you say yes, I should explain a little.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and Rose’s skin tingled where he’d touched her. “This is… it’s called a bond. It’s a way of tying two minds together, and…” He took a deep breath. “And it’s unbreakable. If we did this, our minds would be connected for the rest of our lives.”

Rose’s eyes widened. “This is why you asked me how long I’m going to stay with you.”

The Doctor nodded. “Yes.”

The sky behind the palace was awash with colour, and in the courtyard below, Rose heard people exclaiming over the beauty. But for her, the glory of the aurora paled in comparison to what was happening there on the balcony. A permanent bond, and a promise to stay with him forever…

“This bond… it’s like marriage for your people, isn’t it?” she whispered.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “It was, yeah. I never thought… there was never anyone I trusted enough to be this open with, until I met you.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t think you’d want something like this, though, until last night.”

The Doctor held his breath as he waited for Rose’s answer. The comparison to marriage was the closest parallel, but a bond was still more than a human marriage. The irrevocable nature, the absolute openness and intimacy… It was what he craved, but it was quite different from what Rose’s upbringing had taught her to expect in a life commitment.

Rose took his hands and stepped closer to him. “Could we do it now?”

The Doctor’s hearts stopped and his eager mind nearly surged into hers unchecked, but he made himself ask one last time. “Are you positive, Rose?”

“Yeah, I am. When you’re not there…” She bit her lip. “It feels lonely in my mind. I want you there with me, sharing my life as I share yours.”

The Doctor blinked several times against the sudden tears that threatened. “I’m lonely without you, too,” he agreed, his voice hoarse.

Rose smiled up at him. “Then let’s bond, right here. It’s the new year, and the universe is putting on a show, just for us.”

The Doctor stumbled over his instructions in a few places, but soon enough, Rose had her hands on his temples and was pushing slowly into his mind as he worked his way into hers. He could see the colours flaring across the sky behind his closed eyelids as he recited the traditional vows, then he opened his eyes and looked down at Rose, bathed in purple light, as she promised to stay with him forever and tie their timelines together.

When they were done, he tentatively removed his hands from her temples and nearly collapsed beneath the wave of happiness and pleasure when he did not lose the connection with her. She was there in his mind, just as vibrant and real as she stood physically before him.

“Are we married now?” Rose had her arms around his neck and her lips were only an inch away from his.

“Yeah.”

“Then Doctor, you may now kiss the bride.”

The wide grin stretching across his face made it hard to kiss her properly, but he didn’t think his new bond mate minded the slightly awkward kiss. Her giggle when her nose bumped against his turned into full-fledged laughter when he picked her up and spun her around.

“Rose Tyler,” he said as he set her back down.

“Yes, love?” she asked, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together securely.

The Doctor grinned down at her, just as wide and manic as he had the night he’d met her. “Run!”

The rest of the palace guests stared in astonishment as the couple raced through the great hall and out the doors, not even stopping for Rose’s cloak. Outside, it had started to snow, and they laughed again as they ran beneath the colour-changing sky back to the TARDIS.

#ficandchips #dwfic #timepetalsprompts #winter fic bingo #ten x rose #cq's fic: red and white be mine tonight #new year's eve #bonding fic #telepathy #all the good stuff #fic by Nancy

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