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merlinmagicwords-blog · 10 years ago

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Eleven/Clara Fanfic: Snuggled 1/1 (Teen rating) inspired by ladysigh's manip.

This story is Eleven/Clara, inspired by ladysigh's wonderful manip. you can see it here.

It's been a while since I've written something, but I miss the eleventh Doctor so much and her art is very inspiring. So thank you ladysigh. And this is kind of angsty at first, but for me the manip shows the Doctor being so protective of Clara and her just so right in his arms and well...I think that's why I loved them so much. So happy ending yes, but angsty at first with one of the most intriguing DW adversaries I think.

Rating note: a bit mature at the end (mild smut) :)

Fanfiction.net link: here

Blame it upon the mad rush for the finding. Blame it upon the fever that inflamed body and hearts. Blame it upon the mind that never shut off crazed schemes of search.

Blame it on him.

She was cold, frigid as blocks of ice, holding still against him, saying nothing. And it was all his fault.

He didn’t have to bring her here you know. A Wednesday among so many others because of her rigid rules, he didn’t have to keep up this relentless journey. Not with her anyway. He could have kept her safe. Could have kept her far away from all this. But then he’d be alone, and it was becoming well understood. He hated being apart. Hated being cold and separate.

He could feel her hands. Small. So small and delicate compared to his vaster veined ones. They clutched his wrists without requesting permission. She was wrapped so tight against him that all hindrances of polite protocol were forgotten. As all that vacated her mouth, were shivers.

He never meant it to come to this. Let that be his apology. He was an old man who felt new and young again whenever he was around her. All those ancient years past seemed to just flutter away. She made him vibrant and necessary. Brought back that Eleven spin. And so how could he have even thought to come here without her? How indeed could he attempt to find Gallifrey without Clara Oswald by his side?

He was so close. So so close. He could feel it in his tremoring fingers. Gallifrey was just right there. Stolen by the Dreamlord.

Sick man. He made them live out this patch of purgatory inside a powerless locked down TARDIS now. No decent air. No warmth.

What game was he playing at this time?

Bringing Clara into his insane mechanizations.

So many mysteries about this man, this spirit, this possibly deep part of his own soul.

He had forced them to face nightmare after nightmare. One after another. The Doctor’s death for Clara. Clara’s last breath for the Doctor. Again, over and over.

And now it had come down to this. There was no outlet, he told them. You have to talk it out. Decide. Piece together the puzzle on your own. Find the answer.

Or die for real this time.

But Clara was too cold to participate, too ravaged by what she’d just been through. Braveheart Clara finally wracked in fear. Cradled by him and huddling there until safety finally washed over them. But it wouldn’t. Not like this.

The Doctor knew that all too well, that, and that they couldn’t give up. No matter how hard it was getting to breathe, the lack of air would only be worse later. They would feel nothing but the numbing cold and their bodies would freeze inside this dead TARDIS.

If they didn’t do something, if they-

All his fault.

His to fix.

“Cla-r-a.”

She didn’t stir, didn’t give even so much as a murmur.

It was cold. So horribly cold. But the Doctor moved enough to jounce her. Then he gathered as much as he could his vocal chords back into some semblance of order and brokenly yelled. “Cla-ra!”

It took interminably long to get any kind of reaction. But then it happened. Faint, yet real.

Her body shifted of its own volition against him.

Good.

He thought at first her eyes had been shut, but now as he peered downward he realized they were opened and so all was not completely lost. Clara was conscious and listening. Even if those big doe-like eyes of hers wouldn’t gaze upward to let him see her full state. She was shadowed almost entirely in darkness, like he, the TARDIS broken down and without illumination, but she was aware.

He shifted his body again, to be closer, wrapping her more solidly in his tweed purple favored coat. It had been new when he first pulled it on all those months ago. New after finally finding Clara. She was the impossible girl he had been searching for, for so long. She was such a mystery and enigma then, of which now he knew the truth.

All the Claras he saw before were like ghosts, even Oswin, pieces, particles of the whole one, splintered in one endeavor, to save him. For that solitary sacrificing purpose, Clara, oh Braveheart Clara, had entered his timestream, nearly putting herself to death in the crazed effort.

Really, she should have died. All common sense stated that, but then she had him, for there was no way he would allow her to go through that all alone. He jumped through too, to save her. Like she saved him.

Save?

What if-

“Doc-tor.

Wh-wh-at if I n-never s-see him a-g-ain?”

Finally, she was speaking.

Oh, her voice was shaking worse than his, but at least it still had capability. She was worried. About what, he knew. She had a bad argument with her dad this morning. She didn’t like that woman, Maribelle, who he would be marrying soon. Clara liked order and to her, Maribelle brought on chaos, painful chaos. It was too hard to accept that her father was moving on with his life. It was almost like he was forgetting her mother. It was fine when he and Maribelle were just living together, but now that they were going to take solemn vows, it was tearing Clara’s human heart.

“A-at least you w-won’t have to be at the w-wedding.”

It was a joke. A lame one. A stupid one. The Doctor shook his head rapidly, finding a better seat, getting a more satisfying position that brought her all solidly against him. His head down now, he whispered it against her hair, those dark shining strands of Clara hair.

This time there were no tremors in his voice. Maybe because he wasn’t even trying to speak. It was more like tendrils of mist leaving his mouth, his whispers so light, so private just for her. “We are not going to die Clara. You are not. I spent too long searching for you. And I’ve yet to pay you back for all the times you saved me. If I ever can. There won’t be any death. We’re going to beat him.”

It took long moments, but then Clara was inhaling slowly, taking his lead. The whispers from her mouth mysteriously made the shivers disappear, nothing but voiced mists. “Can we? Can we really? I need to apologize to my dad, Doctor. I need to tell him I was wrong. Even if I don’t like her. I want him to be happy.”

The Doctor smiled and through the shadows he saw the faintest hint of light touch Clara’s mouth. It heartened his hearts that she now reached out through the tweed to touch. Her small hand rested upon them as she whispered, “I don’t regret it.”

He frowned, so she continued wryly.

“You sad eyed man. Don’t you know Doctor? I’m scared. I’m terrified.”

“Clara.” He stroked her cheek with his shaking fingers. “I don’t know how. But I vow I will. I’ll keep you safe.”

“No plan, Doctor?”

Her look was suddenly cheeky in the darkness and faint bit of light, knowing, all so knowing.

“I always have a plan.” He answered assuredly, but her look was so skeptical that he clumsily amended his response. “Okay, maybe not always. Maybe not really for certain, do I have one, er…this time.”

She nodded, reaching out to his cold hand with hers, their flesh equally frigid. “I don’t regret it, because it’s always an adventure with you. Always exciting and thrilling traveling in the TARDIS with you Doctor. I’ve seen your sad eyes so many times, becoming hopeful every time you think of finding Gallifrey again. I know how much it means to you to find your home, and even if it seems impossible it means almost that much to me because I-I-

Stutters and stammers, but they weren’t from the cold, not this time. They were from an aching heart instead. A heart possibly holding out for one-

Alien man?

Clara.

No.

He wanted to stop her. Honestly. So badly he wanted to spin away like he usually did when things got too sentimental, but his body was like ice now and hers was the same. It was the only warmth he could feel anymore, what passed from their lips every time they let out one of those misty whispers.

Her mouth. The only heat.

It was all there, shadows growing just a bit brighter, as she looked up at him and he met her gaze with disquiet. Tears upon her lashes that couldn’t fall, because they were too near to frozen. So, so-

“I love you.”

Mists.

Warm heavenly mists.

Lips that burned with emotion.

They were pressed against his before he could give answer. Her body as flush as the cold temperature would allow it. Her arms tangled up in the purple tweed that was only meant for her, and her hands lifting, one around the back of his head, the other tracing the lines of his cheek. She was his for this moment. All greedily his. Her calescent mouth finding its ways through the tremors. The tongue that shocked against his own.

He had no choice anymore. He gave it all up, every silly pretense of ending the pleasure.

He murmured something intangible. Not love. Not yet.

Too terrified.

If her fear was dying without making solace for any past sins, his was finding love again. Finding it and admitting it.

Couldn’t. Not yet. Not now.

But.

Kissing. Holding. Breathing. Blessed hot air. That was just fine.

He gave back all the warmth he could, pushing past the tweed to hold her fast against him. As his hands moved ravenously up and down her back he felt her excited shiver. As he murmured more intangible things he heard her lusty laugh. Finding its way past the cold. Past the darkness. As the lights suddenly shined upon them again. As the TARDIS woke up and breathed her usual breath of disjointed sound. As the cold blew away, replaced by the hot mist.

And the Dreamlord simply disappeared. The Doctor knew. He could feel it.

And so could she.

Clara felt all the freezing tendrils fading away now. She was warm and alive. And so was the Doctor. His answering kiss was a beautiful thing of memory. She had kissed him and he actually kissed her back. Didn’t dance away because he couldn’t. But now---what was that sound?

The Doctor jumped to his feet. Oh, he was gentle as he extricated himself from her. He even left her his coat, green eyes gazing tenderly as he stroked her cheek and then danced apart with excitement. So much liveliness.

She smiled, wallowing in his coat for a minute, holding its warm bulk around her arms. And then she jumped up too and ran to meet him at the console, her limbs amazingly no longer frost burned.

“What happened, Doctor? What happened to the Dreamlord?”

The Doctor shook his head, as he stared at a screen that extended over the console.

“Did we find the right answer?”

He scoffed, waving his hand with dismissal. “The right answer-pah! He likes to play games, I told you that Clara. There probably was no right answer. He just grew bored!”

Games. You play them too, Doctor, sometimes. Clara thought, but said nothing.

The Doctor had inferred a few times during the whole ordeal, that the Dreamlord wasn’t necessarily another. Perhaps he was a saddened part of him. Clara thought she knew now maybe just a bit of what he meant by that. But it still was such a crazed way to explain it. And to think that he would cause himself that kind of pain….it was just too weird. She didn’t want to dwell on it. There was no reason too, not now as the Doctor reached out for her hand and brought it to the screen. He showed her what he couldn’t turn away from.

“Then it’s found?”

She asked, but he just smiled and spun around, before he gave a thrust and pull of mechanisms on the console. The TARDIS had come back to life now. It was time to go.

Minutes and they were there. Minutes and he was just standing there. He refused to move. Suddenly she knew he couldn’t.

Clara walked the few feet it took to reach him, and lifted her hands. One to his twin hearts. The other clutching his hand. Those hearts were beating ravenously. The hand was shaking violently.

“You’re scared.” She whispered.

And he nodded. Fell. Oh, how his head fell to her shoulder. His hands found her back and clutched. His breath rushed out against her neck. “Terrified.”

Like she had been. And cold, just minutes ago. He had wrapped her up in his purple tweed, left it for her afterward that she still had it enveloping her shoulders.

“Why?”

There was no answer for a long time, just that shaken breath against her neck, and then, “What if it’s not all there Clara? What if it’s not even it? What if I fooled myself into believing I saved it and yet—yet-

Oh Doctor, Clara thought. You always hide it so well, but now you stand naked before me. You admit your fear and I think I love you even more. If possible. “I’m crazy. I’m crazy in love with you and you’re something past a thousand years old. But heck with it. I’ve lived all these other lives too saving you so I guess mathematically that makes us somewhere around the same age and beyond, I just know I love you. And I know you need to do this.” She pulled away, making him step back, and gathered his cold hands in her warmer ones.

Scared Doctor.

All too terrified.

“It’s Gallifrey. It’s your home, Doctor. Now wipe away the tears from those sad eyes.”

He marveled, lifting his fingers to feel.

“Yes, you’re crying a little.” She smiled and wiped the few left over, herself. “Just a little. All gone now. So give me your hand again and show me your home. Show me those silver trees you always marvel about. And those spectacular red orange skies. Glowing crimson. The mountains of snow. The spectacular moons. Show me your home, Doctor. Show me Gallifrey.”

It was less than a plea, more a command. She knew he was sometimes used to them from her. Knew no matter if he complained about it, he liked her bossiness.

She watched as he stood a little straighter, fixed that dotted bowtie into place, and nodded his head with a customary reaction.

“Well then…Clara…shall we?”

His given arm. She took it and smiled. Smiled bravely as they walked out the door.

To Gallifrey….together…

***

Hours past, evening’s glow approaching.

She was snuggled in tweed. Naked and warm. Marveling some. How it didn’t scratch. Maybe it was how it was silkily lined she half mused, half caring.

They really were like silver. The trees. The leaves were like molten metal. And the sun had been so hot and vibrant. Even as it had shined against the snowy hills in the background. It had slowly melted away the white, lazy in its endeavor. The skies were golden red with bits of fiery orange slathering through.

How many hours they had been here she did not know. Did not care.

The Doctor was well known, to some a saint, to others a pariah. There were only a few he wanted to meet with, though, before bringing her here to this special spot.

Here, was a hill of red grasses and golden fields that stood just a few feet away from where his first home used to be. Nothing more than a shack now, it was burnt during some fire ages ago he had told her. But oh how he loved this destination. How he adored the way the sun hit those background snowy mountains in the daylight. It enraptured him how they shone upon the lakes below, lakes of mysterious shining brown waters that Clara could only marvel at.

It was here he said he wanted to bring her. Here that for the first time…

She wasn’t just wrapped up in tweed. And she wasn’t the only one naked. How warm he felt against her. Solid and alien familiarity.

Maybe that was why they had moved through the people he knew so fast, because he wanted to come here before the sun fully left the sky and the moons took over. Oh those stunning giant milky moons that floated above them now, as night commenced.

A hand snuggled its way out of the tweed. Found her breast and lustily grasped. He wasn’t so awkward, even if during their makings of love they laughed some and had a few silly clumsy moments. Now, his touch solid and sure, made her let out a breathy moan. “Oh Doctor, I-

A whisper. It came to her ear from his lips. A simple word. A name.

Clara turned her head and stared. All this time. He never said it. Didn’t River Song say she had to make him say it? But now, the Doctor…his name, he freely…gave it to her, Clara.

Why?

It wasn’t extraordinary as a name would go. It wasn’t ordinary though either. She had to test it on her tongue a bit first, keeping it faint, only for him to hear. But then it sounded right and he nodded with a smile. A glowing smile. And a contented sigh. His arms wrapped around her tighter and his fingers found some erotic destinations to travel. She answered with her own wanton wanderings of his well-formed, but oh so slender body. She was already feeling sort of ravenous for him again.

“If you do that anymore…I…oh… will not be able to…oh…” She whispered his name with a bunch of other nonsensical mutterings. And then felt it. Another whisper into her ear. A very assured murmur, cutting off her continued protests.

“I mean it! If you don’t stop I know I’m going to-

“I love you too Clara.”

She turned her head once again, saw it in his green eyes, as green as the few emerald grasses that poked through all the gold and red they were seated upon. She thought she probably looked happy after a while of wonder, because his beam was there too, just as happy and-

“Stay with me a while, Clara? Maybe even bend that Wednesday rule of yours.”

She supposed she could tell him that with a time machine, keeping the Wednesday rule shouldn’t be too hard. And she knew she probably should think sensibly about their age differences. Plus the fact he was an alien. And she had a classroom to teach and-

“On one condition.”

Her finger was soon tipped against his top and bottom lip, ceasing any wanted chattering of his. Oh how the Doctor loved to chatter. Yes she knew his name now. But she’d keep that secret far away from even her thoughts. Only his ear would ever hear it that way, covertly.

Oh wow. She was in love with an alien. And he loved her. She was billions, maybe trillions miles away from home, on his home planet with him, surrounded by silver fantasy-like trees and orange red skies looming above. And she was happier than ever. In the most rightful place she could be.

Snuggled up with the Doctor. The man whose name she deliciously knew now. Naked and oh so calescently warm.

“So…your condition then?” He cut through all her musings and she answered plainly.

“We come back here. This same spot. This same time. Wearing nothing but your purple tweed and each other. Every Wednesday.”

He grinned. Oh that sweetly malicious grin. The Doctor was sometimes so awkward, other times so self-assured. She loved that about him, that and so many other things, despite his poke-someone’s-eye- out chin.

“Understood, Doctor?”

He turned her around in his embrace, naughtily let his hands wander down her back, cupping her rear as she played too with his nakedness. All a slow descent back to the ground as he lay over her and positioned himself right between her trembling, and once again excitedly warm thighs.

“Understood, Clara.”

Oh… bliss then.

Gallifrey found together. Every terror faced. Snuggled together once out of desperation, needed warmth.

Now, snuggled for nothing but pure joy and pleasure.

#whouffle #souffez #whouffiction #eleven clara fanfiction

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