#12 x nardole

[florida3exclamationpoints]

I don't like him

"Don't cross your arms" 🧍‍♂️ "you are the only husband I will ever have"

"Don't cross your arms" 🧍‍♂️"you have given me many nights of passion" ohhhhhohohoohh

"Why do you keep crossing them?" BECAUSE THEYRE CROSS IVE GOT CROSS ARMS

[noforkingclue]

I kinda want a dw fic with bill potts in it so a 12th doc x you dating but have fights n bill just wanna u two to make up but its complicated. If u two 'divorce', the custody of bill will definitely on doc since he is her mentor. Anyway some angst fic in which 12 wont let u in n u have enough waiting for him. Happy end or not is up to u.

Note: requests are currently closed

I left the ending open ended to whether or not there is a happy ending for you and the Doctor.

Hope you enjoy!

Title: Endings

Doctor Who tag list: @v4n1r, @queerconfusionthings, @yourneighbourhoodclown, @love-of-fandoms, @emilythezeldafan, @fabulous-jj-style, @theseeker945, @pleadingeyes, @kjaneway1, @truthbehindthemysteries, @im-a-muggleborn, @startrekkingaroundasgard, @mythandmagik, @geocookie21, @zerocanonlywriteshit, @thewinterpoet2, @anteroom-of-death, @night467, @clarasoswaldd, @sessa23, @mxacegrey

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

“What’s he done now?”

You glanced up at Bill before looking back down at your textbooks.

“Nardole?” you asked, “It would be easier to list what he hasn’t done.”

“No not him,” Bill sat down opposite you and folded her arms, “The Doctor. You’re arguing.”

“No we’re not.”

“Yes you are.”

“No we’re not.”

“Yes you are.”

“Bill,” you sat back and gave her an exasperated look, “I’m serious. We’re not arguing.”

“Then why is everything so fucking tense between you?”

“Things are not-“

But one look from Bill had you stumbling over your words. You knew it was bullshit. Things were incredibly tense between you and there was no denying it.

“Alright,” you pinched the bridge of your nose, “Alright. We’re not technically fighting anymore.”

“Knew it!”

“Why does that sound like you were betting with Nardole on this?”

“So what happened?”

“He just never lets me in.”

“Oh?”

“I know he’s the Doctor,” you waved a hand and rolled your eyes, “But he can’t hold the entire world on his shoulders. He acts like he’s so much more…more… more…”

You rubbed your eyes as you tried and failed to find the right words. You slumped against the back of your chair and said,

“I don’t think I can do it anymore?”

“Do what?”

“Being with him.”

Bill froze, her drink halfway to her lips. Slowly she put the glass back on the table. The noise of it was far too loud in the silence.

“You can’t be serious?” she said

“I am.”

“But you can’t leave him!”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Bill waved a hand, “Because you’ve always been together.”

“Not always.”

“Well since I’ve known you.”

“Sometimes these things just happen,” you said, “Not everything is forever. I’ll always care for the Doctor, of course I will, but how can I continue to be with him if he doesn’t trust me? Can a relationship work if one side doesn’t trust the other?”

“The Doctor does trust you.”

“Then why didn’t he tell me about Missy?”

“Because-“

You let out a bitter laugh and shook your head.

“So you knew before me? Why doesn’t that surprise me anymore?”

“Maybe he wanted to keep you safe?”

“Then what does that say about his concern for your safety?”

An awkward silence fell between you. You shifted, uncomfortable at the tense atmosphere. You weren’t used to this with Bill and you longed for things to go back to the way they were. However, deep down you knew that was highly unlikely.

“I’d like to remain friends,” you said, “I know we only met because of the Doctor but I hope that we can still be friends.”

“What?” Bill gave you an incredulous look, “You think you’ll never see me again because you and the Doctor are arguing?”

“Bill-“

You were interrupted by the door to the café opening. The Doctor stood in the doorway and he looked slightly shocked to see you there. Bill stood up and said,

“Just talk to him ok?”

“Bill…”

“For me?”

“Alright,” you took a deep breath and nodded, “For you.”

[capybaraonabicycle]

trick or treat 🎃

Hi! 👻

I've got a tiny Bill x 12 fic for you as a treat, I hope you like it! It's the shortest one of the bunch but I had a lot of fun writing it :)

Rating: Gen

Genre: Pure Fluff

Warnings: One swear word

[ID: gif of Bill in the Doctor's office, smiling. end ID]

"Doctor? Can I come in now?"

There had been strange noises coming from his office door every since he had asked her to wait outside. And quite frankly, Bill was starting to grow concerned.

"Hang on!" he called back. "I am over 2000 years old, give me a minute."

"Alright" she leant back against the door, twirling her necklace while waiting.

"Besides" the Doctor opened the door and Bill squeaked while trying to regain her footing. "you can't rush perfection!"

She turned around and there he was, in a proud winner's stance that stood in stark contrast to the clothes he was wearing. Just that 'clothes' was an exaggeration. It was some black thing with a white elliptical disk on his belly and something resembling wings on his arms. He had a hat with an orange beak(?!) attached, yellow fins at his feet and behind him, something burned.

"Uhhh" Bill managed, gathering her bearings. "You're on fire."

"Yes, I am" he grinned, holding his had out to her for a high five.

"No" she said, pointing at his backside. "I mean, literally."

"Oh, that?" the Doctor turned around so Bill could see it was his… attire that was producing the flames. "Harmless hologrammatic flames. Can't hurt a fly."

He turned back around to beam at her. "So what do you think?"

"Do you want an honest answer to that?" Bill asked and his face dropped.

"You don't like it?" he said. "I made it specially for you."

"Great" she tried to smile. "What is 'it'? Doctor, what's up with your clothes? I mean, to each their own but this is eccentric even for your standards!"

"It's my halloween costume!" he finally explained. "I'm a penguin with its arse on fire!"

"Oh my god, that is terrible. I love it!" Bill grinned, appreciation kicking in together with realisation. "But Doctor, it's March!"

"Not when you've got a TARDIS" he grinned, beckoning her to follow him. "Come on, she has a wardrobe full of costumes and we haven't got all day before Nardole returns and makes us miss out on the biggest Halloween party in the universe!"

Happy Halloween!

[doctorwhoincorrectquotes]

12: Love is a weakness. It's an evolutionary mistake.

Nardole: You are literally making a valentine's day card for River right now.

12, pointing a glue gun at him: You're on thin ice, Nardole.

[all-about-wearable-technology]

Bill: I invented a game. Want to play?

Nardole: Sure! How does it work?

Bill: welI I say a quote that the doctor said and you have to guess if he said it to River or the TARDIS

Nardole: ...can I just forfeit now?

[whifferdills]

Prompt time! Basically I just want you to write a sequel to "Nervous Circuits."

fun fact: this was the first kink meme prompt i ever filled and the first fic where i did not fade-to-black about anything sexual. such memories, many nostalgia.

anyway

Nardole/the TARDIS/12th Dr. ~1.7k words. probably don’t read at work, content warning for Genitals and Drug Use

[alternately: read on the Ao3]

The ship seems curious about Nardole, almost shy. He drops his purse on a control bank, looking around. Half-expecting to find a hand to shake.

“It’s bigger,” the Doctor is prompting.

The lights on the console shift from blue to pink to gold. An image is presented to Nardole: a man in a suit and a woman in also a suit, but with a skirt instead of trousers; they’re shaking hands. The image shifts: the woman is not a woman but instead an ill-defined peripheral-vision presence, something achingly beautiful about it. The man is now him. They are shaking hands.

“Hello,” he says, waving. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“…On the inside,” the Doctor finishes, evidently disappointed about something or other.

“Obviously,” Nardole says, circling around the console. “First thing I noticed. You’re not very observant, are you.”

Nardole has a bedroom here. Or, well, he has several bedrooms, since if this is a nearly-infinite space with nigh-endless permutations and possibilities, it’d be silly to settle down without exploring his options. There’s the one with a water slide, the one with a ball-pit. The chic modernist one, all chrome and birch; the cozy one with a fireplace and more leather armchairs than strictly necessary. The one with a large heart-shaped bed and a mirror on the ceiling and smooth jazz that sort of exists, sonically, rather than coming from anywhere. The closet is filled with velvet smoking jackets, in his size, which he’d be into if he didn’t feel like it veered too far into the Doctor’s sartorial territory.

(The ship whines a bit when he leaves that one. He pats the door, from the corridor side. “I know you like it,” he says. “Not quite my taste, though. Sorry.”)

He’s got bathrooms, as well. Swimming pools and saunas and elaborate marble landscapes where water just sort of exists without exactly coming from anywhere. One with heated floors and heated towels and a large bathtub and a camera in the corner near the ceiling that follows him, red light blinking hopefully.

“This is a private time,” Nardole says, enunciating carefully. He drops his toiletry kit beside the bathtub, which is also heated and already filled with water and a frothing, swirling blue foam. “So no, please.”

The camera droops, making a disappointed ‘vroop’ sort of noise, and the light fades out.

“And I’d like to choose my own bath bomb,” he says, stripping down. “We can decide together, if you’d like.”

Vroop? the bathroom asks, from everywhere and nowhere. Possibly from inside his own head.

“Vroop,” he affirms, settling down gingerly into the steaming-hot tub.

Nardole wakes up one morning, in one of his bedrooms, with a raging erection. Which is unexpected, since he’d been dreaming about writing a stern letter to the council in which he lived, in the dream, about their garbage pickup policies.

“Okay,” he says. He avoids thinking about his cock, which now feels like it’s approximately the size of the moon. It’s a good time to be sort of fat, he thinks; it’s alright in general but his belly makes a nice privacy curtain between him and his apparent arousal. A skinny bloke would have to look at all that downstairs nonsense.

(He tries not to wonder if this has ever happened to the Doctor, who - not that Nardole pays attention to this sort of thing - is a skinny bloke; a bit soft, in a nice ‘wouldn’t turn down a Jaffa cake if offered’ way, but scrawny on the whole - he does not wonder about that, since it is of course an inappropriate thought. Not that there’s anything objectively wrong with that sort of imagining, but their friendship has not quite progressed to the point where he feels comfortable entertaining the idea.)

The ship chirps at him. An image is presented: a businessman and a businesswoman are shaking hands. The businessman is him, naked, and the businesswoman is something incomprehensible, unfathomable. Instead of hands, there are genitals.

“Okay,” he says again. “Just - don’t watch, alright?” He closes his eyes, so as not to be a hypocrite more than he has to, and squeezes his hand beneath the elastic waistband of his pajama trousers.

After the business with the superb flying man and the evil brains and the apocalypse and things, Nardole finds A) himself quite worn out and B) a stuffed aardvark on the pillow on the bed in the bedroom he’s requisitioned for himself tonight. It’s adorable, and velvety-soft, and he immediately feels an odd emotional connection to it.

“You’re an excellent aardvark,” he says. He moves the aardvark’s head up and down in a nod. The aardvark knows it is excellent, and returns the compliment.

There’s a Toblerone on the pillow as well. He unwraps it and puts as much of it as will fit into his mouth, clutching the stuffed aardvark to his chest.

“Fanks,” he mumbles around the chocolate and nougat. A light in the corner of the room, near the ceiling, glows pink. Bashful, shy, almost.

“I was thinking to myself the other day -”

The Doctor snorts.

“-About how I quite like the tactile sensation of fur,” Nardole continues, unperturbed. “Not so much the ethics of non-synthetic fur, but the feeling of it is lovely. I’ve never understood why, for example, fur hats have the fur on the outside, and not the inside.”

“Something to do with insulation, I assume.”

“Right, but outside of serious arctic conditions? Anyway. That’s not the important part. It was an internal thought, see, I didn’t write it down or say it out loud or anything like that. So I was wondering…”

The Doctor twirls his index finger in a go-faster motion.

“Is the TARDIS psychic? And if so, have you considered teaching her the importance of consent vis a vis direct mental contact?”

He raises the part of his face where eyebrows would be, if he had those. The Doctor stares back at him blankly.

“Might be better to just show you.” Nardole heads back towards the nearest corridor, gesturing c'mon when the Doctor forgets to follow.

He’s got the oddest impulse to grab the Doctor’s hand, when he finally catches up.

Nardole finds his latest and now semi-permanent bedroom where he absolutely did not leave it. He has not taken the Doctor’s hand, although he still vaguely wants to.

“Shoes,” he requests, slipping out of his flip-flops. “None, I mean. Or off, rather.”

The Doctor sighs heavily, and sits down on the floor to take his boots off. Which he would do, as a person, rather than simply bending over, since he generally doesn’t seem to have too firm a grasp on the conventions of human movement. Politely, Nardole averts his eyes, although he does openly and frankly admire the Doctor’s courgette-patterned socks once the deed is done.

“Here we go, then,” Nardole says, gently pushing the Doctor through the doorway.

“Um,” the Doctor says. “It’s.”

“It’s all gone fur,” Nardole supplies helpfully.

Which it has, thoroughly. The floor, the walls, the ceiling; the lamp; the television set, and the bookshelves. Covered, or potentially made entirely out of, a soft pearlescent-gray fur. His personal effects remain thankfully unaffected, nestled here and there in the gently-swaying, luxurious pelt of everything else.

“It’s not that I dislike it, I’m finding it quite enjoyable actually. Only it’s an invasion of privacy listening in on my internal monologue like that.”

The Doctor raps his knuckles on the wall, or attempts to, since it’s difficult to make any sort of commanding sound and/or gesture against a mass of fluff. “You won’t do that again,” he announces.

“Unless I say it’s okay,” Nardole amends.

“Unless Nardole says it’s okay.” He flexes his toes in the floor-fur, a slight but noticeable sort of pleasure-wriggle running up through him all the way to the eyebrows.

“It is nice, though,” Nardole stage-whispers. “Innit.”

“Mmm.”

“I’m planning on getting massively caned and lying on the floor for several hours while eating Wotsits,” Nardole says, still whispering, although he’s forgotten why exactly he thought it was important to be quiet and on the down-low. He clears his throat, resumes at a normal volume, although that now feels slightly too loud. “You’re more than welcome to join.”

“She likes you,” the Doctor mumbles. They’re holding hands now, curled up together on the floor. Some clothing has been lost along the way.

“Yes,” Nardole says. “Obviously.”

The Doctor, who’s apparently had the bristly-prickly thing clean smoked out of him, just wriggles in closer, his free hand weaving through the floor-fur and letting it drag through his fingers, over and over. “Can you feel it?”

Nardole pauses, considers. Distracted slightly by the niceness of the floor-fur against his bare back and the Doctor’s head-fur against his belly. He can, he can feel it: the warmth, a vibration. A love, and something altogether more prurient. Held back, though, now. Less of a direct genital-tugging than before.

Still a slight encouragement in that direction, though. An open invitation, an expression of interest. An image: the two of them, in this fur room. The ship with her proverbial arms around them. The image fades into a thumbs-up emoji.

“Both I and your sentient erotic time-space ship would like for us to be kissing now,” Nardole says thickly. That’s not entirely what he’d meant to say, but the phrasing of what came out of his mouth is apparently endlessly hilarious, so he giggles, and giggles harder as the Doctor pries himself up slowly, all eyebrows and askew hair and expression far too serious for the situation at hand.

“Okay,” the Doctor says. “Okay, okay.” And he kisses him. Slowly, softly, as he awkwardly maneuvers himself over Nardole. Like he doesn’t understand entirely how bodies work but he’s willing to wing it.

The ship kissing him, too. The floor caressing him, softening just enough. A cocoon, him between the two of them. All hands held, now.

The Doctor grins, would probably prefer to not have that particular noise classified as a giggle. The ship’s sighing below them, is wrapping around them. Nardole’s got one hand tangled in the floor-fur and one tangled in the Doctor’s hair, and the Doctor’s got one hand on where Nardole does not have hair, head-wise, and the other on his side where the ship meets his body.

“No filming,” Nardole specifies. The light in the corner of the room, by the ceiling, flickers and fades out, accompanied by a disappointed-sounding electronic whine.

(Another light comes on, in another corner; he hadn’t said anything about audio recording, after all.)

[nostalgia-tblr]

GET UR 12/NARDOLE NOT-ACTUALLY-SLASH HERE. Contains bed-sharing and offers of kissing but don’t get your hopes up too much that’s pretty much all that happens between them. 

[tangle-of-ivy]

I Feel Like I Know You

12TH DOCTOR / OC

10,599 WORDS

THIS IS THE FIRST FANFIC I’VE MANAGED TO FINISH FOR A LONG TIME.  I WROTE IT IN ONE LONG 7 HOUR STRETCH A FEW DAYS AGO, THEN SPENT SEVERAL DAYS EDITING IT AND DEBATING WHETHER OR NOT TO PUBLISH IT.  I’VE NEVER PUBLISHED ANY OF MY FANFICS BEFORE, SO I’M A BIT NERVOUS.  PLEASE SEND ME FEEDBACK! (NO FLAMES PLEASE)

(Edited because I finally figured out how to add a “read more” link.)

(Edited again, several months later, as well as changing this Doctor/Reader fic into a 3rd person POV story.  I think I like it better this way.)

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Mal was running and laughing as she outstripped her pursuers. Their heavy purple armor slowed them down and made maneuvering through the thick trees difficult.  She heard the sound of a breathless chuckle echoing hers.  The person running with her ducked between two trees, his shock of white hair flashing in a ray of sunlight that had made its way through the leaves.  Mal jumped over a log and quickened her strides to catch up.  Suddenly the landscape opened up into a large meadow and she could see clearly again. The man glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled at the happy grin on her face.  The creatures behind them were still breaking their way through the last of the trees when she caught a glimpse of deep blue waiting for them at the other end of the meadow.  A feeling of homecoming fell over her as she reached out to grasp her companion’s hand and they raced over the last few yards…

Jerking awake with a start, Mallory Hart stared around her bedroom with confused, sleepy eyes until she remembered where she was.  With a disappointed sigh, she flopped back onto her pillows.  Just another dream.  That made the fourth time in the last two weeks.  

Mal was starting to get concerned.  The feeling of homesickness was starting to last longer and longer every time she woke up from the dreams.  And that’s not even mentioning the fact that every one of them included a man that she felt an illogically strong connection to, leaving her longing and heartbroken for days afterwards.  The man’s face changed often.  Sometimes he was thin, with a huge chin, and a childish grin. Sometimes he wore leather and had a haunted look in his eyes, even when he smiled.  Other nights he had hair that stuck up all over the place and wore a suit.  But the ones that concerned her the most were the ones like tonight, where the man was the spitting image of the mysterious professor that worked at the same university as her.  

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Mal yawned and tried to balance her coffee mug and stack of folders with one hand while she adjusted the strap of her heavy book bag with the other.  

“Professor, would you like a hand there?” came a voice from her left.

“Oh, hello there, Joelle.  Yes, that would be great.”  The student took the pile of folders from her hands and held the mug for her until she’d hitched the strap further up her shoulder.  Joelle handed back the mug and carried the papers as they walked to Mal’s classroom together, chatting about homework and lessons. 

“Are you going to keep teaching part time after this semester, or will you take on a few more classes?” the younger woman asked.

“I’m not sure yet.” Mal admitted.  “I haven’t had nearly as many migraines lately, but I don’t want to commit to something and then have to back out later.”  In a practiced move, she lifted her long, soft skirt to avoid tripping as they both climbed the stairs.  

“That’s probably smart.” Joelle agreed.  She then glanced at the professor out of the corner of her eye, smiling slyly.  “Are you planning on attending the lecture this afternoon?”  

 Mal avoided her eye as she picked imaginary lint out of her long, graying hair.  “Which one?”

“Oh, don’t be coy!  You know what I’m talking about!” she protested.  

Mal sighed and muttered, “I don’t know…” but stopped talking abruptly as she saw him.  

He was exiting the library, fierce eyebrows low as he argued with his bald teaching aid, Nardole.  Mal couldn’t help but stare as he ran his hand irritably through that shock of white hair that she’d dreamed about only a few hours before.  He glanced in her direction for a split second before striding away, Nardole trotting quickly to keep up.

“Professor?”

She blinked and glanced back at Joelle, who was smirking openly.  Still a bit befuddled, Mal looked back to where he’d been, only to see him disappearing down a corridor, the tip of his coat whipping out of sight.  

“No.  I’m not going today.”

“Why not?”

Mal started walking again, gripping the strap of her bag tightly.  

“Because I have the rest of those essays to grade this afternoon.”

“Ross said that he’d finished doing those for you yesterday.” Joelle pointed out.

She mentally cursed her assistant’s efficiency. “I’m busy.  Maybe on Friday.” She insisted.  

She was still confused and embarrassed about her most recent dream and didn’t want to take the chance that either her interest or her misgivings would show on her face.  Not that he ever sought her out.  He never really showed much interest in talking to any of the other professors, even though many of them attended his lectures out of curiosity.  His lessons were popular with both the staff and the students because they never quite knew what he would talk about.  Sometimes he’d start a piece on calculus equations and end up on a tangent about ancient ballads about sea serpents.  Mal had never been able to find anyone who actually knew what sort of class he was supposed to be teaching.  He’d been there for several semesters and seemed to do pretty much whatever he wanted. At least she’d never heard of administration disciplining him for any of his practices.

Joelle rolled her eyes.  “You love going to his lectures.  Why are you always so unwilling to just admit it?”  

Mal shrugged noncommittally, hoping the subject would drop as she entered the classroom and placed the folders on the lectern.  For a minute, she thought it had worked as she pulled her book out of her bag and found the page she needed.  But then…

“He is rather handsome.”

“W-what?!” she sputtered, almost choking on a mouthful of coffee.

Joelle grinned as she watched her professor’s flustered expression.

“You know…in a mature, wise, crabby old man kind of way.”

Mal tried to play off her reaction by teasing the student. “I didn’t know you were into older men, Jo.  What does your boyfriend have to say about that?”

“Oh, I’m not.” She shrugged.  “But he seems about right for you.”

“Are you calling me old and crabby?”

“Maaaayybe!”

That girl’s grin would have made the Cheshire Cat proud as Mal glared half-heartedly and told her to take her seat so that she could start the lesson.  

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A tall figure stood to the side of a window, peering around a dark curtain. A pair of icy blue eyes watched Professor Mallory Hart as she walked across the grassy lawn, deep in conversation with a group of her students.  They studied her face as she motioned for the young adults to sit down in a circle, doing so herself and gracefully arranging her skirt and tugging down the hem of her sweater. He wondered if she still wore leggings or trousers under her skirts as she used to when there was a high chance of having to run from something.  Shaking his head in an attempt to ward off old memories, he studied the circle again. Soon it would start to get colder and she wouldn’t be able to bring her study group outside anymore.  The figure sighed as he watched her eyes flash with passion and her hands wave as she delved into a lively discussion with her students.  One of his thumbs absently stroked a simple band around his left ring finger.

“Sir?”

The blue eyes blinked in surprise and their owner turned around to see a frown on a round, babyish face.  

“What do you want, Nardole?” the Doctor asked irritably.

The short, bald man crossed his arms.  “You miss her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He snapped.  But he still glanced out the window at the study group one last time before stalking moodily back to his desk.  He brusquely pretended to sort through a pile of papers, hoping the subject would be dropped.

Nardole stood in front of the desk and looked at him sternly over the top of his glasses.  “You need to stay away from her.”

Apparently he wasn’t going to be lucky today.  

“You’ve been watching my every move for the last eight months.  You know I’ve not gone near her.” The Doctor snapped.

“Yeah, but you think about her all the time.”

“There’s nothing I can or want do about that.”

“You’re the one who said that we needed to keep our distance.  You went on and on about the risks and what might happen if she relapsed.  Then the months go by ant you get more and more…”  Nardole waved his hand absently and scrunched up his nose. “…moody.  I’ve seen you watching her when you think I’m not looking and it’s dangerous!  You could put her in serious danger-“

“I know!” the Doctor yelled, flinging a handful of pens at the man. “I care about her more than anything! I won’t let anything hurt her, even me! So leave me alone about it!”  Shoving his sonic glasses onto his face to hide at least part of his expression, he flopped down in his chair, crossed his feet on top of his desk, and pretended to read from a large leather-bound tome.  

Nardole watched him silently for a few minutes, then gathered up the pens and replaced them on his desk as a kind of peace offering.  When the Doctor still ignored him, he fiddled with a loose thread on his jacket and huffed, looking around for something to do.  Catching sight of an old-fashioned record player he wandered over and began looking at the stack of records beside it. Selecting an interesting looking one he placed it on the machine and moved the needle into position.  

A soft waltz filled the air.  The sound was one of love and contentment.  Nardole smiled to himself and began to sway back and forth, unaware that the Doctor had gone stock still and tense.  

“Shut that off!” he snapped.

Nardole jumped in surprise and glanced over at the man.  “Why?”

“Just turn it off!”

Nardole frowned as he turned off the music.  “It was good dancing music.” He sulked.

“Well I don’t dance.” Said the Doctor flipping angrily through his book so hard that he almost tore the pages.

“Yes, you do.” Said Nardole, looking confused.  “You never once turned her down when she would ask you to-“ He stopped talking abruptly as the Doctor tossed the heavy book onto his desk with a loud crash.

“Don’t you have a vault to check on?” the Doctor growled.

Nardole frowned.  “Nah. I thought it was your turn-“ He stopped talking as the Doctor glared at him over the top of his glasses. “Actually, you’re right!  You’re very right!  I’ll, uh…go and…do that now.”  He stuttered as he scuttled out the door, closing it behind him.

The Doctor stared at the tips of his shoes for a while, then sighed and stood.  He glanced at the window again, but resolutely turned his back to it.  He wandered over to the record player and fiddled with the needle.  After a few minutes, he placed it back on the record and listened to the music fill the air once more.  He stood stalk still and his expression didn’t change one iota, but his hands were clenched into fists.  And though he would have denied it vehemently if anyone had seen, there was a sheen of tears in his ancient blue eyes.

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“…I don’t know if I agree that the reason Agatha Christie never told anyone where she’d been when she disappeared was because she had amnesia.  I’ve always been skeptical of that theory.  Or maybe I just like the idea of her choosing to vanish and leave this big mystery for her fans to speculate about.  It seems like a very brave, independent thing to do for a woman in that time.  I mean, the amnesia idea is interesting too, but the Doctor wouldn’t give a very satisfying answer as to why or how that might have happened.  But I guess the mystery of it is what makes the topic so interesting.  And to think that he started the class talking about the differences between bees and wasps.  Do you think that-“

“Mallory!”

Mal stopped midsentence and glanced around at the woman sitting next to her. Professor Nancy Neelson was rubbing her eyes in a frustrated manner with her lips pressed tightly together again. The woman was younger than Mal by at least ten or fifteen years, but with six children and a full-time job, she seemed older.

“I’m sorry.” Mal apologized.  “I was doing it again wasn’t I?”

The woman sighed.  “I was hoping that when you said we should have lunch together that we could talk about more than the Doctor’s latest lecture.  They can be fascinating, but they’re a bit random and disjointed.  No one but you seems to keep up with half of what he’s saying.”

Mal tucked her chin, feeling guilty for rambling.  “Sorry.”  She picked at her food, which had gotten cold as she’d talked.

“Don’t give me that sad puppy look.” Nancy teased, trying to lighten the mood once more.  “There’s nothing wrong with being passionate.  I often wish some of my students were more like you.  But if you like the Doctor’s lectures so much, why don’t you go talk to him sometime?  You two would probably get along like a house on fire.”

Mal mumbled an excuse under her breath.  It wasn’t as though she hadn’t thought about approaching the Doctor. Joelle had suggested it often enough in her not-so-subtle, prodding way.  But Mal was always too confused about her own feelings to give it any serious consideration.  She dreamed of this man she’d never even spoken to, over and over again.  Even she knew that went a little too far beyond creepy.  She wanted to talk to him so badly that it scared her.  She’d tried to dissect her own emotions for months, but couldn’t understand this overwhelming feeling of longing.  She was desperately missing a man that she’d never formally met, and it scared and confused her to no end.  

However, as Mal went about her day, Nancy’s suggestion kept bouncing around inside her head.  Later that night when she woke from yet another dream and felt that overwhelming sense of homesickness, she decided enough was enough.  She sat up in bed and tugged angrily at her hair.  She wasn’t a coward.  She wasn’t about to let embarrassment or fear control her. Tomorrow she would talk to the Doctor. They both worked at the same university. Maybe he’d already wondered why she’d never introduced herself.  Maybe he thought her lack of forwardness stemmed from dislike.  She couldn’t have that.  

Tomorrow.  She thought. Tomorrow I’ll do it.  

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I can’t do it.  Mal thought as you shifted from one foot to another in front of the Doctor’s office door.  She could hear the muffled sound of a student asking another question about the midterm through the thick wood.  The Doctor’s office hours may not have been the best time to approach him.  Maybe I should wait until lunch tomorrow.  But he doesn’t usually eat in the mess hall…  She fretted, trying to find an excuse to leave.

Just then the door opened unexpectedly.  A young student stepped around her and walked off down the corridor, leaving the door partially open.  

“Are there any more idiots out there waiting to ask the same questions I answered during class?” called an annoyed male voice.  

The rude question made her fight back a sudden smile.  That spark of humor lit her courage once more, and she squared her shoulders before pushing open the door.

“I may have a few questions, but I’ll try to keep them as un-idiotic as possible.” she said lightly, smiling at the surprised expression that sent the man’s eyebrows shooting for the sky.  

The Doctor had been reclining back in his chair, resting his feet up on his desk, but he stood quickly when he saw her, almost tripping in his surprise.  

“Mal?” He stared at her with an emotion she couldn’t name roaring behind his eyes.

“Oh, you know who I am?” she said with a hesitant smile.  

The Doctor blinked, and the unnamed emotion cleared from his expression.  He straightened his suit jacket and stepped around his desk.  

“Of course, I know who you are, Professor Hart.  Your students speak of you fondly.  And Dean Elliot praised your research for his project last April.”

“Oh.” She blushed.  “Well I know you of course.  The famous Doctor.  I’ve never seen a lecture of yours that wasn’t standing room only.”

“Yes, I’ve seen you there quite a few times.”  The Doctor said, studying her calmly.

“I’m sorry I never came up to introduce myself.  Perhaps we could start over?” she asked, holding out her hand. “Hello!  My name is Mallory Hart and I teach part time here at the university.”

The Doctor appeared to hesitate a moment before reaching out to shake her hand. Something in Mal’s chest loosened at his touch.  Like she’d been partially holding her breath until that moment and hadn’t realized it.

“And I’m the Doctor.” He said, his voice soft and deep.

She cocked her head.  “I’ve always wondered about that.  Doctor who?”

The Doctor smiled a bit sadly and she could have sworn he squeezed her hand before releasing it.  “That’s a good question,” he muttered under his breath.  

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked.  

“Just the Doctor.” He said, louder.

“Oh.”

They both stood there awkwardly for a moment.  The Doctor was studying a scuff in the wooden floor and Mal let her gaze wander until it fell on a wooden police box in a corner of the office.  It was a very deep, familiar blue…  Suddenly the Doctor cleared his throat and walked back behind his desk without meeting her eyes again.

“So, what can I do for you, Professor Hart?  You mentioned that you may have some questions for me.”

“Just Mal is fine, Doctor.” She said, then paused, wondering why she’d instinctually given her nickname.  All of the other professors and staff called her Mallory.  Shaking away the confusion, she took a seat in the chair in front of his desk, smoothing down her cardigan.  “And I mostly just wanted to introduce myself and say that I really enjoy your lectures.”

The Doctor grunted and shifted some papers around, avoiding her gaze.

“I’ve heard lots of people say that they like them.  Those that aren’t complaining about the topics anyway.” He opened a drawer and poked around inside for a minute before pulling out a yo-yo.  

“Sometimes they’re a little random, but I like them that way.”

He still didn’t meet her eyes.  “Is that so?  Well did you have any specific questions for me?  Because I have some…erm…things to do.”

“What kind of things?”

“Thingy things.” He said absently, fiddling with the loop in the yo-yo’s string.

She was almost about to shake her head and take her leave, when she saw a novel partially hidden under a map of New Zealand.  Pulling it out she studied the cover for a moment.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could expand on your lecture from yesterday.” She placed the book in front of him and he glanced up to see his copy of Death in the Clouds by Agatha Christie.  

“What about it?” he asked, his fingers stilling on the yo-yo.

Taking a deep breath, she dived in.

“If Agatha really did have amnesia after she reappeared, how do you think that happened?  There was no evidence of a blow to the head.  She was definitely stressed, but would you say that was enough to cause the amnesia?”

The Doctor finally met her eyes as he put down the yo-yo, folding his hands in his lap.

“People might not ever know for certain.  Stress is a possible contributor…”

“But what do you think?” she asked, leaning forward.

“Me?  I think…” he studied her for a moment.  “I think she threw an amulet into a lake to drown a giant wasp.”

Mal laughed softly at his absurd answer, but her laughter faded away as the image of a giant wasp stinger stuck in a wooden door, a sassy red head, and the man from her dreams with the sticky-up hair floated in front of her mind’s eye.  Suddenly pain shot through her temples and she suppressed a groan as she rubbed her forehead.

“Mal?” The Doctor’s voice was suddenly urgent.  “Are you okay?”  

His voice was soothing, even though it sounded worried.  The pain in her head faded and she looked up to see him kneeling at the arm of her chair.  His expression was concerned, almost frightened, and he was half reaching for her.  

“Yes, Doctor.  I’m fine.” She whispered.  

He studied her closely for a long moment before pulling back and standing once more.

“If you are unwell then perhaps you should go and lay down.” He said, avoiding her eyes again.

But Mal shook her head.  “I’m all right.  I just get migraines sometimes.  It’s why I can only be a part time professor at the moment.  But the pain is gone now.”  She leaned forward once more.  “But if you won’t be serious with me about your Agatha Christie lecture, what about that claim you made about the pyramids last week?”

The Doctor seemed to be debating with himself.  He buttoned and unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt as he stared blankly at a bookshelf.  Mal waited, wondering what was going on in that strange head of his.  

Finally, he sighed and sat down once more.  He placed his feet back up on his desk and crossed his ankles, leaning back in his chair.

“Are you talking about the pyramids in Egypt or the ones in South America?” he asked, and he had a twinkle in his eye now.  

Mal grinned.

Hours later they had touched on all sorts of subjects, from Van Gogh to J.K. Rowling, Mexican cuisine to the best way to tie-dye a shirt.  The sun was getting lower and she really needed to get to a dinner meeting with another staff member, but she couldn’t tear herself away.  Finally, he noticed her looking at the clock a little too often and indicated that he needed to go and hunt down Nardole about tomorrow’s lecture.  

Mal stood and tucked her hair behind her ear, unsure of how to end the encounter.  It was the best time she’d had for ages, but her old confusion was slinking back in as she prepared to leave.  She felt more drawn to him than ever before, but wasn’t sure how to read his impressions of herself.  In the end, she simply shook his hand again and left with a simple goodbye, once again admiring the color of the police box in the corner of his office as she closed the door behind herself.  All the way back to her office Mal berated herself for not asking when she could see him again.  Still muttering angrily at her insecurity, she grabbed her coat from the bedroom adjacent to her office and the car keys from her desk, preparing to leave for the meeting. She only paused when a blinking icon on her open laptop screen caught her eye.  Reaching over, she clicked on the icon to open her email, and saw that she had a message from an account called doctordisco12.  Suddenly excited, she opened the message and smiled at what she found.

I enjoyed talking to you.  Perhaps we could do it again sometime.

Stay safe.

~ the Doctor

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The next day Mal was getting some juice from the machine in the mess hall when she saw the Doctor come in and order a plate of lasagna from the meal counter. Taking his food, he got a glass of water before walking over and sitting at a small table near the back of the room.

She debated with herself for less than five seconds before gathering up her own lunch and making her way over to him.  He raised his head when she stood across from him, and he didn’t look at all surprised to see her.  

“Mind if I join you?” she asked.

A small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth and he waved a hand at the empty seat.  “Not at all.”

Smiling, she hung her bag over the back of the chair and sat down with her food.

Mal talked with him nearly every day after that.   He often ate lunch with her, sometimes in the mess hall and sometimes he convinced her to eat outdoors when it was nice enough.  They’d sit together in the grass or on a bench and talk about all sorts of subjects as they ate.  He’d stop to say hello when he passed her in the hallways now, and she’d seen him sitting in the back of a few of her own lectures.  When they hung out in his office together, he’d even play his guitar for her sometimes, to her amusement and delight.  

Nardole didn’t seem to like her.  Several times when she was talking with the Doctor he’d turned up, arms crossed so tightly that they looked like they’d never come unstuck, and pertly told the Doctor he was needed somewhere else.  Another time she’d seen him physically pull the Doctor down a side corridor when he saw her coming.  She didn’t know what to make of it.  But when she brought up the subject with the Doctor he’d simply waved away her concerns. So eventually she’d stopped asking and just enjoyed the fact that the Doctor cared enough about spending time with her to risk the wrath of his angry little teaching aid.

One day when they’d both headed outside in search of a place to each their lunch, Mal saw the Doctor eyeing a nice oak tree off one side of the green. He saw her looking at him and averted his gaze.  But she elbowed him and whispered conspiratorially, “Only if you give me a leg up first.” Hiding a delighted grin, he’d boosted her into the branches and they’d ended up having a lovely picnic nearly 15 feet above the ground. When she’d jokingly asked him why he’d zoomed in on this particular tree he said that the tree felt old and friendly. She almost laughed at him, but she’d placed a hand against the bark and somehow, she found herself agreeing with his observation.  The serious moment was broken as they spend the next half hour debating over what kind of a name the tree would have.  She was all for Fredrick, but he was insisting on Marvin.

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“You’re gonna get her killed!”

The Doctor ground his teeth together as he pretended to ignore Nardole who had been fussing and yelling at him for the past fifteen minutes.  

“You have to get her transferred or something!  You obviously can’t keep away from her and you can’t leave the vault.  It’s the only solution!  You said yourself that keeping her in an induced coma won’t help with the healing process.  If you keep getting closer to her you’re going to have to let her go for her own safety!”

The Doctor’s pencil lead snapped for the third time and he angrily sharpened it once more.

“I’ve told you again and again, but will you listen to me?  No!  Of course not!  No one ever listens to me.  Even when I’m trying to be helpful.  I thought the whole point of this whole mess with the experimental cure was to save her life!  And here you are putting a strain on the mental lock every time you see her!  Do you want her to die?”

“SHUT UP, NARDOLE!!” The Doctor leapt to his feet in all of his Oncoming Storm glory, causing Nardole to literally cower against the side of the TARDIS.  Dozens of words, excuses, and threats pushed against the Doctor’s lips as he started down at the man.  His fury at being provoked and accused of harming the one person he would do anything in the universe for, blazed behind his eyes.  But his own doubts and fears, as well as a prick of guilt caused by Nardole’s obvious terror, slowly melted his anger until he’d sunk back into his chair with his face buried in his hands.

For a long time neither of them moved.  It was only when Nardole saw the subtle shaking of the Doctor’s shoulders that he gradually stood and made his way over to his boss.  Hesitantly, he patted the Time Lord on the shoulder. Finally, the Doctor leaned back in his chair, not bothering to wipe away the tears on his lined face.  

Almost absently, he pulled a chain out from under his shirt.  From it hung what seemed to be a flat, empty cloth pouch, but when he pulled the bag off, what used to be an antique gold pocket watch swung from the end of the chain.  Someone had added bits and pieces to it, including a tiny vile of some liquid, several gears, a few electronic chips, and a piece of glass that encased a strand of graying brown and a strand of white hair, braided together.  Several different colored lights blinked or pulsed from various parts of the contraption.  It still looked like a cross between a steampunk art project gone wrong and something from a scrap metal yard.

Nardole hesitated, then asked, “What are you thinking about?”

The Doctor didn’t answer for a long moment.  Then he sighed and fingered the gold chain.

“Regrets.  Over two thousand years of them.  But a few in particular.”

Nardole nodded.  “That last trip?”

“That trip.”  The Doctor scoffed.  “It was supposed to be our last hurrah before settling down to guard the vault.  Just one quick adventure.  One little vacation.  But…they caught her…  I didn’t know those creatures were telepathic.  They almost destroyed her mind by the time I found her.  I don’t even remember what I did to them.  I just remember walking over their corpses as I raced with her back to the TARDIS.”  More tears slipped down the Doctor’s cheeks.  “The brain scans…they were so confusing.  I’m still not sure what they all mean.  I couldn’t enter her mind through our bond…  That’s what scared me the most.  I tried everything I could think of, but she was slipping away.  Then I thought about the chameleon circuit.  I couldn’t put her into a coma.  That might have stopped the spread of damage, but she wouldn’t have healed.  Her brain needed stimulation to regrow old pathways.  I thought…taking away a few years of memory…just for a while…might allow her mind to fix itself.  I experimented with the watch and the chameleon arch for as long as I could. But she was dying!  I had no choice after a while.  I had to try it on her.  I’d hoped that what remained of our mental bond would allow her to keep at least some of her memories…but obviously that didn’t happen.  She became human.  She had a normal life.  And she has gotten better.  The school nurse said that she hasn’t been suffering from nearly as many headaches and migraines.  She’ll recover.  She has to!”  The Doctor’s grip on the chain was so tight that his hand was shaking. A simple wedding band, too small for his own finger also hung from the chain, and it swung slightly with the movement. The Doctor touched the ring with a single finger as another tear slipped from the corner of his eye.

Nardole dithered for a moment, but then swallowed and said, “Sir?  You do realize…  I mean, it is possible that…that she may never be able to recover her memories.  Her mind might have been permanently damaged enough that that kind of shock may…may cause a relapse…or even…kill her.”

The Doctor set the watch down on the desk and wiped at the tears on his face…but he didn’t answer.  

Nardole chewed on his lip before adding, “Or it may not be possible for her to get her memories back.  You basically made this thing up on the fly.  It’s completely experimental.  She was human a long time ago…it may be hard to change her back again.”

The Doctor didn’t react.

“Sir, are you listening to me?”

The Time Lord sighed.  “I’m listening.”

Nardole narrowed his eyes at him.

“What did I say then?”

“She was human a long time ago…” he muttered.  How could he forget?

When he’d met young Mallory Hart, he was still the War Doctor.  He’d just been in a huge battle and it was becoming clearer and clearer that there would be no happy ending to this war.  He’d slipped away for one last visit to his precious Earth. Just one last trip to be surrounded by people living ordinary lives, worrying about petty, everyday things. To sit in the grass and watch the clouds for a bit.  

That’s when she’d found him.  Sitting on a deserted swing set, in a small park.  She’d only been about seven years old at the time.  She’d talked to him.  She had no clue who or what he was.  She had no idea what he was going through.  But she’d listened.  She’d talked. She’d empathized.  She’d held his hand, the hand of a complete stranger…the hand of a murderer.  She’d been the reason that little spark of hope left in his chest had refused to die throughout the rest of the war.  Because she was proof that there were some things out in the universe worth fighting for.

After he’d been saved from destroying Gallifrey by his past selves, Clara Oswald, and the consciousness of the Moment, he’d regenerated into Nine.  Nine had no idea that Gallifrey was safe. He’d had to forget all that.  He’d had to live with the belief that he’d killed his entire race.  He wanted to die too.  He’d tried. But that spark of hope just wouldn’t die.  He’d gone back to find her, not really knowing why.  He’d miscalculated the timing and ended up over twelve years farther down her timeline, but she still remembered him.  The sad man with the kind eyes on the swing-set.  In almost no time, she was traveling in the TARDIS with him.  Mal helped him heal.  She brought him back from the darkness.  Soon after that they’d both run in to Rose and she joined them.  As time went on, he fell more and more in love with her.  He swore he would never tell her.  That he’d return her to Earth rather than saddle her with a broken, murderer of a Time Lord.  But then she told him that she loved him…and he’d found that he didn’t have the strength to leave her.  

Then Bad Wolf had happened.  She saw his overwhelming dread of losing Mal to the unstoppable waves of time.  She saw how many more people he could help with her by his side providing him with the strength and love he needed to keep going through the centuries.  So, Bad Wolf changed her.  She gave her the time she needed…and an extra heart.

He’d asked Mal to marry him when he was Ten.  She’d returned the favor by asking him to bond with her.  He gave her the human wedding band around her finger, and she’d bonded her mind and soul to his in the Time Lord way.  

She’d stayed with him through his regenerations, and he’d been there for her through a few of her own.  Since she was a Time Lady she had a bit more control over her regenerations. For the most part, she tried to keep the changes to a minimum, though she did influence the age a bit here and there to match more with his current body.  He’d been very touched when she’d shown no qualms about giving herself gray hair the last time she’d regenerated in order to match this older looking body of his.  She’d never left.  Never stopped loving him.  Never stopped saving him.

And look what had happened to her…

“Sir?”

The Doctor blinked, and came back to the present.  “What?”

“I asked if there was any way to tell if it’s working or not?  Besides the reduced headaches…how are we supposed to tell?”

The Doctor opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated.  He thought for a moment…then a smile slowly grew on his face.

“The only way to tell, is for me to unlock our mental bond and look at her mind from the inside.”  He stood. “And the only way to do that is to slowly gain her trust again.”

Nardole frowned.  “I’m not sure about that, sir.  You said that the bond hurts when it’s constricted like this, so are you sure you’re not just looking for an excuse to get some relief-“

“Do you really think I would risk it before I was absolutely sure?” the Doctor snapped.  “Yes, it hurts.  It feels like I have only one lung.  Like I can never get enough air.  Like I’m having a constant hearts attack!  Like half of me is missing.  Because half of me is!  The bond connects us so tightly together that sometimes it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.  I feel myself fading away without her here to ground me.  Seeing her like she is now, when she has no clue who I am, it hurts! But it’s better than not seeing her at all!”  

All the energy seemed to drain out of the Doctor once more and he slumped back into his chair.  

“I miss her, Nardole.” He almost whispered.  “I have to believe that she can come back from this…  But like you said, the whole thing is experimental. For all we know she’s already ready and we just don’t know.  I promise I’m being careful.  But I have to be close enough to judge when the moment is right.  Otherwise I give up hope that she’ll ever be able to come back to me.”

Nardole stared at the Time Lord before him.  At the extra lines and the dark shadows under his eyes.  At the subtle shaking of his hands.  He looked and he nodded softly.

“Well then…  Just…be careful, sir.”

The Doctor gave a crooked smile.

“When am I anything else?”

“That is not encouraging, sir.” Said Nardole, and the Doctor chuckled weakly in agreement.

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Mal still had the dreams, but the constant homesickness had eased a bit.  

Spending time with the Doctor made her feel content and brave.  The horrible, guilty longing she’d felt for so long eased.  She could relax again.  

It wasn’t perfect all the time though.  The confusion was still there.  So many things didn’t make sense.  When she was with him, it felt as though she was exactly where she need to be.  The worrying questions disappeared and she just concentrated on everything feeling right.  But once he was gone, the doubts returned.  The half memories continued to haunt her until it felt like she was walking along a curtain with half visible memories pressing right up against the fabric, but impossible to see or touch.  They eluded her, and haunted her like invisible ghosts, hovering just out of the corner of her eye.  

Mal spent more and more time with the Doctor.  They were even talking about co-teaching together after the end of the year, once the new semester started.  He always had time to spend on her.  But there were times she’d catch certain looks he gave her…certain emotions that would flicker behind his eyes…  They both scared her and drew her in.  Sometimes he seemed so sad, at other times conflicted.  Her favorite moments were when he was free from the dark thoughts that plagued him and he allowed himself to be happy.  It would be hard for an outsider to tell, because his happy moments often involved just as much eyebrow action as when he was cross.  Sometimes he was just happy being cross.  But she found it fairly easy to interpret his moods, even when others ducked for cover.  This feeling of understanding and closeness was another thing that both delighted and terrified her.  She felt like she’d known him for forever.  But Mal was an educated, grown woman.  She knew she was playing a dangerous game.  She didn’t want to have her heart broken because she delved too far into something that was all in her head.  

He wore a wedding band.  She’d asked him about it during one of their first lunches together, but he’d said that he didn’t have a wife at the moment.  It was vague, half-answers like that that she knew should have sent up red flags and had her running for the hills.  And yet, she couldn’t help but put her faith in him.  It was as instinctual as breathing.  

Mal’s students and friends on the staff had noticed her new friendship with the Doctor.  Her colleagues were happy to see the close friendship that she’d developed and sometimes asked questions about the man that puzzled so many.  Her students were the worst.  They switched back and forth between teasing her, pestering her with questions, and pressuring her to ask him on an official date.  She sometimes worried that some of the gossip would reach the Doctor’s ears and make him uncomfortable enough to avoid her. But either he never heard any of it, or he didn’t give it enough credit to bother bringing it up.  She wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or hurt if it were the latter.  

Time passed.  It was the Christmas season and there was snow on the ground outside.  The Doctor nearly made her heart pound out of her chest the few times he’d straightened collar of her coat against the wind or wrapped his scarf around her when she’d forgotten hers.  The faculty Christmas party was fast approaching, and she’d only gotten a vague “maybe” from the Doctor when she’d asked him if he would be attending.

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The night of the Christmas party, the study tables had been moved out of the reading area in the library to make room.  Some of the students who stayed over Christmas had volunteered to decorate and serve food for the teachers.  Twinkle lights hung across the ceiling and from the bookshelves.  A Christmas tree had been set up in one corner with simple red, gold, and silver baubles hanging from the branches.  There were tasty treats lined up on the buffet table and music filled the room from a large pair of speakers.  

Mal talked a while with one of her students who was working at the food table before wandering around the edge of the room.  The party had started 45 minutes ago and she hadn’t seen any sign of the Doctor.  The music is beautiful, switching from catchy holiday tunes to softer, classical instrumentals.  Several people are dancing in the middle of the room, which seemed to have been designated as the dance floor, but she was too busy watching for the Doctor to consider joining them.  

Taking a sip from her glass of warm cider, she glanced around the room again. Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of white hair and a stern eyebrow.  She tried to edge her way around a pair of professors to get a better look, but by the time she had there was no sign of him.  Sighing, she stood on her tip toes, trying to see over the crowd, but with no luck.

“Lose something?” said a low voice in her ear.  

A small squeak escaped her lips and she almost spilled her drink. Turning, she saw a smirk upon the Doctor’s lined face.  She opened her mouth to rebuke him, but paused as she took in his attire.  He wore a suit often enough, especially when teaching. But tonight, he was wearing a burgundy bow tie above a crisp white shirt, and a black suit jacket.  She’d probably seen him wear every one of those items at one point or another, but somehow this was different.  Maybe it was the twinkle lights’ warm glow that made him seem especially handsome tonight.  But she didn’t care.

Suddenly Mal realized that the Doctor was watching her stare at him with one eyebrow raised.  She blushed and set her glass down on a nearby table to give herself time to clear her muddled thoughts.

“You look lovely tonight.” His voice was soft enough to be almost tender.

“Thank you.” She said.  She was wearing a white turtleneck and a long, flowy red skirt.  Her only jewelry was a pair of pearl earrings and a gold and crystal snowflake hanging from a chain around her neck.  Her hair was partially pulled back from her face, and she was pretty sure one of her students had stuck a crimson poinsettia in it at one point during the party.

“I was worried that you would find an excuse not to come.” she teased.

“Oh, I did.” He said, with a touch of half-hearted grouchiness.  “I came up with approximately 87 and was on a roll, when…” He looked suddenly embarrassed.

“What?” she asked.  

“Well, I knew you wanted me to come.” He muttered.  

A smile spread across Mal’s face as she placed a hand on his arm.  

“Thank you.  I really do appreciate it.  But I don’t want you to be miserable because of me.  Go get some food or dance or something.”

“I’m not hungry.  I came here to see you.  And I don’t dance.”

She felt herself blushing again, but tried to hide it by teasing him.

“Don’t dance?  Or won’t?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Yes!  But either way, I am determined to see you on the dance floor at least once before the night is out!”

He gave her a condescending smile.  “Not gonna happen.”

“Please?”

“Nope.”

“Pretty please?” she asked, trying to make her eyes sad and large, sticking her bottom lip out like a toddler.

He chuckled at the childish move, but stopped as something seemed to catch his eye.  He frowned and Mal turned to follow his gaze.  She caught a glimpse of Nardole whispering something to the student in charge of the music.  The young woman was in a few of her classes, and she saw her grin mischievously in her direction before turning to the sound equipment.  Mal glanced back at the Doctor to see him still frowning at Nardole, eyebrows dangerously low.  

Then an instrumental song came on over the speakers.  It was soothing and romantic.  The instruments included only a piano, a few violins, and a harp, but Mal instantly felt a tug from one of those just-out-of-reach memories.  For a split second, she was afraid her eyes would tear up, but she blinked rapidly until the feeling past.  Turning, she saw the Doctor scrutinizing her face with an unreadable expression.  Taking a deep breath, she tried one last time.

“Look Doctor, I don’t dance either, but this is such a lovely song.  Could we perhaps brave it together?”

There was a pause, then the Doctor sighed.  

“Something tells me you dance just fine, Ms. Mallory.” he said as he took her hand and led her to the dance floor.  

Mal couldn’t remember ever dancing before, but she kept this to herself as the Doctor placed a hand against the small of her back, making her breath catch. She grasped his hand more firmly and placed her other on his shoulder.  Looking up into his face, which was several inches above hers, she stared into his eyes.  He held her gaze, took a deep breath in through his nose…and they were off.  

She barely registered that they were moving at first.  It was so effortless that they were gliding across the floor before she realized what had happened.  Her body responded to his out of pure instinct, or was it memory?  She’d never waltzed before, but she stepped in time with the Doctor over and over again like she’d been doing it since childhood. He spun her out under his arm and back in such perfect time to the music that it felt choreographed.  They turned together and moved in a wide circle, never once stepping on each other’s toes.  Her chest was pressed to his as she spun around the floor, sometimes breaking briefly apart for a spin, before coming effortlessly back together.  She’d never felt so graceful in her life, but she hardly noticed…because the whole time, the Doctor never once took his eyes from hers.  

The song eventually came to an end, and the Doctor slowly dipped her with strength uncharacteristic of a man of his age.  But again, she hardly noticed.  As he brought her back up to a standing position she realized that no one else was on the floor and that many of the party-goers were now clapping.  Even so, it was almost impossible to wrench her eyes free of that blue gaze.  Only when someone patted her on the back did she manage it.  The Doctor released her waist and her hand as several people came forwards to gush about their dancing skills.  Turing her head to acknowledge the praise, she glanced back at the Doctor to see him slipping away into the crowd.  

Frowning, Mal tried to follow, but found it difficult to escape her new fans. When she finally wriggled her way to the edge of the room again she ran in to Nardole.  He didn’t say anything, just pointed towards a door leading into the hallway with an expressionless face.  She nodded gratefully and slipped out.  She looked both ways down the corridor and only just saw the Doctor’s back as he rounded a corner.  Taking a steadying breath, she followed.

Mal trailed him up several flights of stairs to the floor that his office was on. He paused, then continued past the door to open one at the end of the hallway.  Following, she found a set of stairs there that led up to the roof. The door at the top was partially ajar.

Pushing it open she stepped onto the snowy roof, barely noticing the fresh snow falling as she stared at the Doctor’s silhouette.  He was at the edge of the roof, looking up at the moon.  He didn’t react, though he must have heard her as she stepped through the snow to stand a few feet behind him.  The Doctor didn’t speak for several minutes.  When he did, it was in a musing tone as he studied the large white globe above him.

“It’s strange…no matter how much we learn about it, it never gets any less beautiful.  There aren’t many things like that.”  He sighed and looked over his shoulder at her.  “There’s something you want to say.”  It was a statement.  Not a question.

The words were on the tip of her tongue and they rolled out of her mouth of their own accord.  

“I feel like I’ve known you for a hundred years.”

The Doctor hummed, turning back to look at the ground far below him.  “Many more than that by now.”

“But how can that be?  We’ve known each other for less than a year.”

“Have we?” It was almost a whisper and she barely caught it.

Mal opened her mouth, then paused.  She was getting more and more confused, even as she became more and more certain that there was so much more to this man and what he meant to her.  As she struggled internally, the Doctor continued to inspect the snowy campus below.  After a while though, he sighed.

“I’m sure you have questions for me.”

And just like that, Mal felt certain again.  She knew exactly what she wanted to say.

“No.  I don’t.”

The Doctor finally turned to face her, one eyebrow raised.

“I don’t have something to ask.  I have something to say.”

His eyes flashed as he stared into hers once more.  She felt like she was a book he was reading.

“Before you do, think about this…  You will be much safer if you stay away from me.”

She believed him.  His eyes were full of danger, and time, and weariness.  The ghosts of memories behind the veil in her mind swirled in agreement.  She could walk away now.  She could go back to ignoring the pull she felt toward him and find a way to struggle with the dreams on her own.  

But that same feeling, the one that was telling her to run, awakened a part of herself that seemed to have been sleeping.  Strength entered her limbs and her back straightened.  She held her head high.  

“I don’t care.”

The words were solemn and firm.  There was no way he could doubt her.

The Doctor’s eyes blazed with all of the emotions he seemed to be constantly hiding from her.  Fear, pride, power, grief, hope, vulnerability, and…she dared to hope…love.

Mal took a step forward.

“Doctor, I want to say that I-“

“I love you.”

Mal stopped, frozen.  The Doctor’s mouth was still open, as though the words had leapt unbidden from his lips. He swallowed, then cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I always promised myself that if I had the chance to do it again that I would be the one to say it to you first this time around.” He looked almost guilty now, kicking at the snow with his shoe.

“W-what?”

The Doctor suddenly was right in front of her.  His arms wrapped themselves with no hesitation around her waist, pulling her flush against him.  Mal’s hands fell to rest on his chest.  A small part of her brain was wondering if there was something wrong with his heartbeats, but the rest of it was too busy drowning in the Doctor’s fierce gaze.  

“I.  Love.  You.  Mal.  I have for hundreds of years.  And I promise you…I’ll never stop.”

Mal didn’t stop to puzzle through his confusing statement.  She didn’t stop to think.  She simply grasped the lapels of his jacket and pulled him down to her level.  Except that she didn’t have to pull, because he was already bending down until his lips met hers.

The memories behind the veil keened and sang all at once.  Something inside her mind resonated like a gong that had been hit.  The ground felt unsteady beneath her feet.  But she hardly noticed.  The world had narrowed to the man in her arms and his lips on hers.  He was tentative at first, because in many ways, it was a first kiss.  But both of their bodies soon took over in a familiar pattern that left her dizzy. Mal knew exactly how to turn her head to get him to hum against her lips.  He knew exactly how tight to hold her as her knees grew weak.  She knew just where trace her fingers along his jaw and cheekbone to get him to press her even tighter against his chest.  He knew just how to bury his fingers in to her thick hair to get her to tremble and clutch at him even more.  They played each other like instruments they’d been playing their whole lives.  

Slowly the Doctor pulled away, letting his lips caress hers one more time as he did so.  They were both breathing hard as he pressed his forehead to hers.  Neither of them noticed the cold, or the snow slowly melting into their shoes.  

Finally, the Doctor let out a watery laugh.  Mal peeked through her eyelids to see that there were tears sliding down his face, and that he was looking at her with so much love that she thought she’d spontaneously combust.   He caressed one of her cheeks, wiping at some tears of her own that she hadn’t noticed until now.

“I’ve missed you so much, Mal.” he whispered, his breath making a temporary cloud of vapor between them.

“I missed you too, Doctor.  I don’t know how, but I did.  So much.”

The Doctor groaned and pulled her even closer so that their faces were pressed in to the crook of each other’s necks.  

“Mal?  Do you trust me?” he whispered in her ear.  His voice deadly serious.

“Yes.”

“Do you trust me with your heart?”

“Yes.”

“Do you trust me with your life?”

“Yes.”

And she did.  There was not a single cell in her body that doubted it.  

The Doctor took several deep breaths before pulling his face away. Mal saw hope and fear mixed evenly in his expression.  Cupping her face in his hands, he slowly bent down to press his forehead to hers once more.  This time though, something was different…

Mal felt a soft caress, but not on her body.  A gentle presence touched a part of her that she didn’t know existed. Was it her mind?  Her soul?  She couldn’t tell.  She didn’t have the words or the knowledge to describe what it was.  But the touch was familiar.  It rang with music, and love, and power.  She knew it was the Doctor.  She relaxed this newfound part of herself, letting down walls she hadn’t even known were there.  She clawed at them until it hurt and then she felt the Doctor’s presence flow over her frantic motions, soothing and stilling them.  Together they gently pulled down the walls until there was nothing between the two of them. As their inner beings wove together, Mal recognized every part of him that she encountered.  The homesick feeling that had plagued her for months died a happy death as she drowned in relief...strong, overwhelming relief. She felt like she’d been suffocating and only now could breathe properly again.  Like she’d been blind but hadn’t realized it.  

So many things were still a mystery to her.  The memories were still thrashing behind that mental veil.  But she knew several things for sure.  

She knew this man’s name.  His real name.  Its power echoed through her mind. 

She knew who he was.  Every dream.  Every insecurity.  

She knew who he was and she loved him for it.

In return, he knew her better than anyone else. Better almost than she knew herself.

And he loved her for who she was.

She was his.

And he was hers.

As the sensation of the bond reforming began to lose its overwhelming edge, Mal found her physical body again and managed to gain control of her lips.   She whispered his name.  His true name.  In response, he sobbed in to her shoulder, holding her even closer than before.  They were both crying, embracing each other’s minds as well as each other’s bodies.  How long they stood like that, she never could tell.

Eventually they’d separated, slowly unclenching tight muscles and letting their minds release their vice-like grip on each other. Wiping each other’s faces clean of tears they walked to the edge of the roof and stood staring at the moon, arms wrapped around each other.  

Mal let the Doctor follow her train of thought through their bond.  She was alternating between admiring the moon, sorting through the holes in her mind that she could now see were missing years of memories, and basking in the affection she felt from him through the bond.

“I can help with the missing memory part.” Said the Doctor, absently plucking at a chain that Mal could now see was hidden under his shirt.  “But it might be best to do it in a more private and safe location.”

Only then did she realize her limbs were trembling with cold as well as emotion.  She laughed as he instantly took off his suit jacket and wrapped it snuggly around her shoulders, helping her slip her arms through the too long sleeves.  

“Yes, I definitely want those memories back, a wood fire, and a warm, chocolaty drink, not necessarily in that order.” She said. “But I want one more thing first.”

The Doctor glanced down at his wife, then a roguish smile spread across his face as he felt her meaning through their bond.  Sweeping her up off the ground, he ravished Mal’s mouth with his.  His lips attacking hers with a passion and precision that left all of her limbs feeling like jelly.  She threw her arms around his neck and gave as good as she got.  Their tongues danced and plunged in and out of each other’s mouths with a familiarity born of hundreds of years of marriage.  She wanted to go on like this for quite a while more, but the sound of cheers suddenly broke through the pounding in her ears and the two of them broke apart.

Down on the snow-covered grass below stood a small crowd of students and faculty who were all looking up at the couple and cheering wildly.  There were a few wolf-whistles and Mal was sure she saw money being exchanged by several people.  

She wondered if the Doctor would be embarrassed, as averse as he normally was to PDA in this body.  But nothing could dampen his spirits tonight.  He laughed loudly, waving to the crowd below as Mal pressed a cold hand to her blushing cheeks.  The Doctor egged on the crowd even more by dipping her back and kissing her soundly again.  By the time he pulled her upright, she was dizzy and more flushed than ever. Laughter echoed from the crowd as she placed a hand on the Doctor’s chest to keep her balance.  

“Ahh!  Yer just jealous!” the Doctor crowed, wrapping an arm around her waist.  “Go home ya gawking idiots!”  

The crowd laughed again and slowly began to disperse, but not before several of Mal’s students shouted up and promised a thorough grilling for the details at a later date.  Nearly everyone was gone before she realized that Nardole had been standing in the middle of the crowd, hidden by the waving arms and number of onlookers. He had his arms crossed, as usual, and was looking up at the Doctor with a concerned expression that was almost fearful. The Doctor gave him a thumbs up. Nardole nodded and relaxed, his shoulders untensing.  He uncrossed his arms and smiled up at her.  With a wave he strode off, a little skip in his step.

“I suppose that will make more sense once I have my memories back?” Mal asked, looking up at the Doctor.  

He chuckled and nodded.  “Let’s head down to my office for that fire, hot drink, and your memories.  There’s a certain sassy, blue box I think you should get reacquainted with.”  He guided her towards the door with the arm around her waist.

Mal nodded, not even bothering to puzzle over his strange words, and rested her head against his shoulder.  “Sounds perfect.”  

A thought struck her just before they started down the stairs and she pulled back to look up at the Doctor, a question in her eyes.

“Yes, dear?” he asked.

“I’m not sure if this is my memory already starting to come back or not, but I have a strong urge to say something rather odd.”

“What is it?”

Reaching up, she fingered his bow tie as she grinned widely.

“Bow ties are cool.”

The Doctor groaned dramatically.

[czokledlock]

Oh god im not ready ;___;

[therockerfromspace]

Hi to the few people who follow me for fic! I'm going to get back to writing at the end of July, after I've moved into shiny new house, so here's a hint of what's to come! - Loud Places, a Marissa x Jay one-shot, The Good Fight. - A Doctor Who claim starring Bill, Clara, 12 and Nardole. - Tell Me How, based on a prompt from @secret-guilty-pleasure, a The Thing About Harry one-shot. - The Last Man On Earth, a Doctor Who one-shot focusing on 12's regeneration into 13. - Chosen Family, another 'The Thing About Harry' series of one-shots and a prequel to 'The Thing About'. - Hard Feelings, a Descendants fic which is partially going to be decided on after the Royal wedding special airs. If anyone has any prompts for me, then feel free to reply or message me and I'll write them if I feel comfy! Looking forward to getting back to writing and love to you all!

[theladyjojogrant]

GUYS ISN'T THAT THE FIRST TIME WE'VE HEARD A DIRECT QUOTATION FROM RIVER'S DIARY IN THE SHOW?!?!?!

[noforkingclue]

Hi I really enjoy your 12 x reader fics and was wondering if I can request one where y/n and 12 have just been mutually pining for one another for a while so bill convinces/helps the doctor to do a romantic gesture that goes wrong but y/n finds it sweet anyways. Thanks for your time, you’re writing is really amazing!!!

Thank you anon! I love a bit of mutual pining and I hope everyone likes the fic :)

Title: Obvious

Doctor Who tag list: @v4n1r, @queerconfusionthings, @yourneighbourhoodclown, @love-of-fandoms, @emilythezeldafan, @fabulous-jj-style, @theseeker945, @pleadingeyes, @kjaneway1, @truthbehindthemysteries, @im-a-muggleborn, @startrekkingaroundasgard, @mythandmagik, @geocookie21, @zerocanonlywriteshit, @thewinterpoet2, @anteroom-of-death, @night467, @clarasoswaldd, @sessa23

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @imjustassaneasyou, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

“So here’s what you do,” Bill said as she waved a chip at the Doctor, “First you take her out for dinner.”

“Dinner.”

“Yeah,” Bill popped the chip in her mouth, “Somewhere classy because this is y/n we’re talking about. Don’t take her anywhere dangerous.”

“I wouldn’t do that! Have I ever done that?”

“Yes.” Said Bill and Nardole at the same time

“When?”

“Well there was that one time-“ said Bill

“Or when you-“

“Those don’t count,” the Doctor pointed at the two of them in frustration, “Ok? Now this topic is over!”

Bill just rolled her eyes as she and Nardole looked at each other. Whenever either of them brought you up the conversation always turned into something like this. The Doctor getting flustered, then annoyed which more often than not led to him locking himself in the TARDIS. What started off as a joke had turned something far more painful for Bill and Nardole. They were getting sick at observing the longing looks the Doctor gave you whenever you weren’t looking.

What made it even worse were the looks you gave the Doctor whenever his back was turned.

Despite their best efforts neither Nardole nor Bill could persuade the Doctor that you reciprocated his feelings. He was too stubborn in his falsely held belief that his feelings were unrequited. He was too worried about you rejecting him even though they both knew that you wouldn’t.

“Look,” said Bill, “Just trust us on this. When have we ever been wrong before?”

The Doctor, who had been trying to distract himself by marking papers, looked up at Bill in exasperation.

“Look,” said billy ignoring the look, “I know y/n and I’ve seen the looks she’s been giving you. Just trust me, ok?”

“Ok,” the Doctor said in defeat, “Ok.”

*

“Doc,” you flung the door to his office open and burst into the room, “I got your message. Is everything- oh!”

The Doctor, who had his back turned to the door, jumped when he heard your voice. He had been fiddling with a bouquet of roses that were on his desk. He turned around as you closed the door and walked towards his with a small smile.

“Beautiful flowers.” You said

“Are they?” he asked, “Oh yes! Yes, they are.”

“Are they for anyone special?”

“Yes they are.”

“Oh?”

You felt a coil of anxiety in the pit of your stomach. A small part of you hoped that they might be for you but the realist inside of you knew that they weren’t. The Doctor didn’t return your feelings despite what Bill had told you.

The Doctor coughed awkwardly and held out the ornate vase to you. You blinked in shock and looked up so you were locking eyes with him.

“They’re for you.”

“For me?”

“Bill- I mean, I thought that you might like flowers. Unless you don’t want them, then-“

“I do!” you said quickly, “I love them.”

You raised a hand to gently touch them. You brushed your hand down the stem before pulling away quickly with a yelp. The Doctor, in a mixture of shock and fear, accidently loosened in his grip on the vase which slipped through his fingers and fell to the floor. By the luck of the universe the vase didn’t break but water splashed all over your shoes.

“Are you ok?” the Doctor asked as he took your hand in his

“Yeah,” you said, “Just a thorn. My fault. I forgot that they had thorns.”

“No, it’s mine,” the Doctor said, “I thought I had removed all of them.”

He raised your finger to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against it. You felt your cheeks get hot and looked down at your shoes.

“And I ruined them,” he said, “I just wanted-“

“Don’t worry Doc,” you said with a soft smile, “I know.”

“And…”

“I feel the same.”

“You do?”

You laughed at the shocked expression of the Doctor’s face.

“Yeah,” you said as you rested your head on his chest, “I do. Thought I was being fairly obvious to be fair.”

“Same,” the Doctor said quietly, “Thought you ignoring my feelings was just you being kind and not having to reject me.”

“But you know what this means?”

“What?”

“We’re not going to hear the end of this from Bill and Nardole.”

[doctorwhoincorrectquotes]

12, to Nardole: I am an excellent secret keeper. I have kept all of our secrets.

Missy: What secrets?

12: Oh, no, no, Missy, I'm not going to tell you because I'm an excellent secret keeper.

Missy, whispering You'll tell me later?

12, whispering: You already know.

[dragon-kazansky]

An escape: Missy x Reader

Summary: She's awfully quiet, but doesn't want to be in the vault alone.

You told the Doctor you would help him guard the vault as if your life depended on it. Being a Timelord meant that a thousand years was nothing to you, so sticking by his side all that time would at least make more bearable, no matter how much you both missed travelling the stars.

Nardole was keeping a keen eye on the pair of you, ensuring that the Doctor stuck to his path and that you wouldn't tempt the Timelord to run off on an adventure. You'd just roll your eyes and cross your hearts swearing you would no such thing.

Not when Missy was the one in the vault.

The way she looked at you the day the Doctor was 'executing' her. Something in her eyes made your hearts skip a beat as she passed out. You had run to her side to cradle her head knowing full well the Doctor wouldn't kill her.

Not a day goes by when you don't think of the way she looked at you. The Doctor would permit you to go down to the vault with him and talk to her through its large locked doors. He would give you a certain look when you talked to Missy. It was as if he was trying to read you.

On days when he was certain Nardole wouldn't be an issue, he would take you inside the vault with him.

Missy would always be sitting at her piano pretending not to notice the pair of you entering, but would always give you her attention when you got close enough. As of recently she would look at you first and give a charming smile.

"My two favourite people in the universe!" She'd smile.

"Missy." The Doctor acknowledged.

"Don't I get a kiss?" She'd tease and stand as close to the force field around the piano as possible.

"Not like this." You glance at the Doctor and watch as he let her roam free around the vault.

"Much better." She steps down and saunters over to you immediately. Her arms would wrap around you and she rests her head on your shoulder. "Oh, how I miss you!"

"Missy." The Doctor warns, glaring at her.

Both of you know she wouldn't harm you. She never does anything to provoke violence when you visit her.

You had never asked her why. She never explained.

There were two armchairs in the corner. The Doctor occupied one and you offered the other to Missy. She stood in front of it, but she was facing you, gesturing with her head for you to take it. You slowly approached it and got comfortable. Missy took to sitting in your lap with her arms around you. She got herself comfortable.

"Are you alright?" You asked.

"Just fine." She mumbled into your neck.

Your arms were wrapped loosely around her as you gazed over at the Doctor. He was looking at you both seemingly deep in thought with his hands clasped together by his chin. He rose a brow in your direction when your eyes met his. You could just about shrug without disturbing the Timelady sitting on you.

"Missy?" His deep voice was gentle as he tried to talk to her.

"Hm?" She barely batted her eyelashes at him.

"How are you feeling?"

"Awful, but I'll be alright." She gave, what you can only describe as, a friendly smile as she looked up at you. "I have my escape right here."

"Your escape?" The Doctor lowered his hands and glared at her. "Y/N won't let you out. They're not stupid."

"I didn't mean that." Missy looked at him unimpressed.

"What did you mean?" You asked her softly.

Her eyes fluttered over to you as she smiled sweetly and muzzled your cheek with her nose. You had never seen her behave this way before. Perhaps all that time she spent in here was beginning to pay off, though you never expected her to be affectionate as a result.

"I need you." It sounded like a whine. "You're making me sane." Her eyes looked glossy.

"Sane?"

"Yes. I need you." She sighed. "You'd be perfectly safe in here with me. You don't need the Doctor all the time."

"Never going to happen." The Doctor rose from his seat and stood in front of your armchair.

"Always sucks the fun out of everything." Missy rolls her head back with a dramatic sigh.

"To be fair, your idea of fun usually involves blowing someone up or murdering someone." You peered at her curiously. She lifted her head and winked at you with a cheeky grin.

"That does sound fun!"

"I think we've spent enough time here. Come along, Y/N." The Doctor made to move Missy from your lap, but she was insistent on keeping her arms around you. It was like having a koala attached to you who wasn't ready to go home.

"No. I want to spend more time with my Y/N." She leaned in close and pressed a kiss to your cheek. She made a happy chuckling sound as she looked at the expression on your face, clearly happy with the result.

"Y/N is not your to play with."

"Why do you get to spend all your time with her? That's not fair!" Missy let go of her own accord and stood up to face her dear old friend.

"It's fine, Doctor. I'll stay just a little longer. Come and get me in like 15 minutes or something." You looked at the Timelord confidently.

You were only confident she wouldn't kill you.

"Fine. 15 minutes. No longer." He pointed a finger at Missy. A warning.

She smirked as he left the vault, leaving you both alone. She turned on her heel and occupied the chair that was left empty. You followed her with your eyes as she made eye contact with you.

"Finally alone."

"What gives? Why are you being so... possessive? You haven't been this way before." You watched her with caution.

"You haven't visited in a while."

"I've been busy."

"Travelling the universe I presume?" She arched a perfect brow in your direction.

"Yes."

"Tell me about your adventures. I want to hear all about them." She leaned forwards eagerly.

"We only about 12 minutes left."

"Better start talking." She waved her hands about as if that was the obvious answer.

"Missy, why are you being nice to me?"

"I like you. Better get a move on with that story."

"Why? If anything you should hate me. I'm helping the Doctor watch over you in the vault. That's not really a reason to like someone." You leaned forwards.

"You're sweet. You don't look at me like he does. You're always looking at me when you come in here. You listen to me even when you know I'm crazy!" She said the last word slowly. "Where did he take you last?"

"Space. I don't understand." You stood up and faced her chair. "Is this working? Are you really becoming... good?"

Missy stood up and faced you, her eyes never leaving your own. "I don't know." She reached for your hands and grasped them softly.

"Missy?"

"We have about 10 minutes left before he comes to get you." She glanced at the door. "Let's not waste time here."

"What do you mean?" You asked slowly.

Missy took that final step that closed the gap between you both and kissed you without warning. It was firm, warm and welcome. The fact that you were accepting it made her feel proud. It felt as if she had won you over.

When she parted from you she watched your expression. Your eyes fluttered open and you gazed at her.

"What was that?" You asked her quietly.

"A kiss." She grinned. "Never had a kiss before?"

"Never had a kiss like that before." You tried to gather your scattered thoughts.

Missy gave your hands a light squeeze.

"Want another one?"

"Weirdly enough, yeah, I do."

She leaned in and gave you another kiss, this was one was a lot more passionate than before as her hands reached up to your cheeks. Your hands rested on her hips as this time you returned the kiss.

That made her happy.

You both broke apart and stared at one another. She seemed extremely pleased with herself.

"I'd say about 5 minutes before he comes to get you." She held one of your hands and began to guide you over to the piano. "Do you play?"

"Uh... a little bit." You were still rather overwhelmed by the kissing. "Why do you ask?"

"Because be won't be too happy if he walks in and we're making out in front of him. He might not let you back in again and I can't have that. You're my escape from insanity." She made herself comfy on top of the piano. "So, until he arrives we'll make it look like we doing something else."

You took your seat on the small bench and let your fingers hover of the keys.

"Play me something." She fluttered her eyelashes at you.

You began to play the only tune you knew off the top of your head. Missy smiled as she lay back and listened to the music.

Minutes later the Doctor came to get you. He walked in looking between you and his friend, his mind reeling with a number of thoughts. He stopped only at the base of the piano.

"Time's up."

You stopped playing and stood up slowly, putting distance between you and Missy.

"Do come and play again, won't you?" You heard her ask as you joined the Doctor's side.

"Would love to." You glanced back at her.

Missy was grinning as you and the Doctor walked out. She lay back and closed her eyes once you were out of sight. Her hearts yearning for your return soon.

"How was she?" The Doctor asked, the vault now secure once more.

"She was fine. Nothing to worry about. What did you do for those 15 minutes?" You looked up at him curiously.

"I waited. Right outside." He stopped in his tracks, causing you to stop also.

"You heard us?"

"I did. She kissed you?" You couldn't quite read his expression.

"Yeah... She did."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?" You furrowed your brow and bit your lip nervously.

"Why did you let her do that?"

"Because.... She was being sincere. She gave me a kiss for no reason other than she was being... nice. She was just being nice." You dropped your gaze to the ground.

"Nice? Missy?" He glanced at the vault doors.

"Yeah. Maybe it's working." You looked back up at him. "Maybe she is turning for the better."

"Perhaps."

"Are you going to let me see her again?"

“You think I won’t let you?” Now he was confused. “You can see Missy when you like, just as long as she remains inside the vault. I have no issue with you having feelings for my friend because in the end it might help us.” He smiled slightly. “Just don’t let her get to you if she changes.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“No, Y/N, thank you.”

[whifferdills]

could u write a fic where 12 has to marry nardole for some reason? asking for a friend thanks.

i would love nothing more than to do this for your friend, anon

12/Nardole, mostly gen, aliens tried to make them do it. ~1.6k words.

“The prophesies have spoken of this,” the woman said. “Two creatures, unified, descending from the stars.”

“The prophesies say these creatures will save us,” said the woman’s assistant.

“Through their love for each other,” the woman’s dog clarified.

The Doctor squinted. “Um.”

“We’re not - ” Nardole attempted, then bailed.

The Doctor looked at Nardole. Nardole shrugged.

“They have a lot of guns,” The Doctor whispered. “And this is a delicate area, temporally speaking. One mistake, the whole thing could unravel.”

“Might be better to just -”

“-Go with it, yes. For now.” The Doctor cleared his throat. “Love…saves all of us,” he said, a touch too theatrically.

The dog barked, and nudged Nardole’s leg, panting cheerfully. The wonan grinned with a great sense of relief, and led them to the city.

They were greeted at the gates with a mix of excitement and trepidation, which was apparently just how this culture reacted to tourists. The whole prophecy thing was kept hush-hush.

“You are beautiful, the two of you. We’ve waited so long.” The woman clasped them roughly on the shoulders and disappeared into a massive, gleaming skyscraper.

“Right-o,” Nardole said.

“I’m not ashamed to admit I have absolutely zero idea what’s happening,” the Doctor said. He shoved his sunglasses on, spinning around for a 360-degree scan.

“You probably are. Ashamed, I mean. Just a bit.”

“I’ve never even heard of this planet. And that’s rare, believe me. I’m assuming there’s a war, and the combination of technology and psychic woo is altogether too familiar, but the specifics…” He took the glasses off, and then immediately put them back on again. It was an awfully sunny day.

Nardole felt something push against his calves, and tried not to panic. Possibly he made a noise, but it was a reasonable, restrained one.

“You guys wanna party?” It was the dog from before.

“No,” the Doctor said distastefully.

“Absolutely yes,” Nardole said enthusiastically.

They turned away into a private huddle.

“Split up?”

“Makes sense.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“You realize,” Nardole said, savoring the moment right before being mildly but satisfyingly obnoxious. “That that means literally nothing at all?”

The Doctor made a rude gesture before hustling off after the woman. Not much of an athletic sort, that man. Not that Nardole could throw stones.

He turned back to the dog. “Let’s party hearty.”

They met up, afterwards, in a suitably public park. Nardole was possibly just a touch drunk, or high, or something. The Doctor looked excruciatingly sober.

“You find things?”

“I found things,” the Doctor confirmed. He frowned, like he was mad at himself for letting that phrase exit his mouth. “Did you - learn anything?”

“I took a pill and ate quite a lot of what I think was cake,” Nardole said. “Learn yes, learn relevant information: potentially no.”

A suitably public route to what was hopefully a somewhat more private penthouse suite. Nardole debated whether to take the Doctor’s hand, since they were apparently role-playing two people who would hold hands. The Doctor didn’t quite seem in the right place to be okay with physical contact, though, so he ultimately decided against it.

The elevator ride was mercifully swift. The Doctor jammed the keycard into the door like he meant it to hurt.

“I read the prophecies,” he said, trying to slam the automatic sliding door closed behind him. “They’re highly detailed. And I still can’t recall ever having heard about this planet but, oh, I can feel it. This place, this moment, us here now, it’s important.”

“D'you ever do anything that isn’t potentially universe-ending important?”

“Oh, shut it. Pay attention. You - ”

“Yes,” Nardole said, searching through his pockets for a handkerchief.

“Me.”

“Mmm,” Nardole grunted, and then blew his nose fiercely.

“Are meant to be in love,” the Doctor finished. Finger-quotes around ‘in love’. “In order for what’s meant to happen to happen.”

“Maybe it’s a platonic love,” Nardole said. He tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket and delicately removed his flower crown, setting it down on the kitchenette counter.

“The prophecies are highly detailed,” the Doctor said. He looked like he wanted to raise his eyebrows for emphasis but couldn’t quite muster the energy. He put his sunglasses on, to scan all the things that he could’ve just looked at normally if he wasn’t such a drama queen: a spacious, open-plan room with such highlights as ‘hopefully an electric kettle’ and ‘only one bed’.

“How detailed.”

“Explicitly so,” the Doctor replied tightly. He pulled a small grey rectangle out of his pocket and threw it in Nardole’s approximate direction.

Retrieved from the floor, with a disapproving look, the rectangle was a basic universal-standard (circa the 23rd century) data unit/entertainment provider/communicator/personal massage device. Nardole tapped on the icon labeled ‘PROPHECY’.

“It’s always up for interpretation,” Nardole said, scrolling down. “These things, there’s ambiguity and - oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh boy. Yeah. Wow. Okay. And you think this needs to happen, or 'happen’-” Finger-quotes. “In order for time and space to not become irrevocably fucked.”

“A significant chance, yes.” The Doctor stalked over to the kitchenette, attempting to make sense of the maybe-kettle.

Nardole turned the rectangle off, and put it on the counter, and considered those facts. Or guesses. Or whatever.

“We don’t actually have to do those things. You can find a way around it, surely. This is real life, not one of those novels you think I don’t notice you reading.” He wandered away from the Doctor’s increasingly angry water-boiling adventures, and dropped gracelessly onto the bed, bouncing up and down.

The Doctor unfurled his eyebrows, abandoned the maybe not-kettle, and began pacing. “Of course I’ll find a way. I always do. Always doing the heavy lifting while you sit around and - squeak.”

Nardole stopped bouncing. “I do other things. Important things.”

“Right. You make the tea, how awful of me to forget.”

“I offer excellent advice, whether you listen to it or not. And moral support. And companionship. And-”

The Doctor stopped pacing and glared.

“I’m a bit of a pin in the side of the hot-air balloon that is your ego and self-pity,” Nardole said. He pantomimed the pricking action, in case the Doctor needed a visual reference to understand the metaphor.

The Doctor was still glaring, but in a slightly kinder way now. “Sorry. Right. I’m - you’d make a fine husband, I’m sure.” He quirked an extremely half-hearted smile, and resumed pacing.

“I have, actually,” Nardole said, mostly to himself. “Three times. So there.”

Nipping the whole 'do we share a bed’ question in the bud, the Doctor elected to stand in the corner while thinking very hard and turning a lightbulb socket into a radio. Nardole slept alone, inexplicably disappointed.

The next morning, they met with the prophets, and some government people, and also some military people. Nardole wasn’t sure if he grabbed the Doctor’s hand for false Husband Evidence or to keep him from bristling overmuch. The Doctor’s hand was warm and slightly, mildly unpleasantly, moist. Still nice, though.

And it was also nice, if immediately afterwards a little concerning, when the Doctor called him 'sweetie’. He looked like he wished he could reverse-vomit that back down his throat. Understandable.

“Find a different word,” Nardole whispered, still clinging to the Doctor’s slippery hand. “For example. I like when you call me 'baby’.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes, but Nardole could tell his heart wasn’t in it. And he didn’t pull his hand away, either.

“This is the plan, by the way,” the Doctor yelled.

“You had that horrifying 'I have a plan’ look, so I figured this was it” Nardole yelled back.

Everything was just a bit on fire.

“If you have a better idea - ”

“No,” Nardole yelled, falling over an upturned desk. “No, this is fine.”

The TARDIS was not on fire and the TARDIS was uncharacteristically cool and it was home and safe and quiet.

“I can’t help but think that this would have been so much easier and less dangerous if you’d been willing to just kiss for a bit and fudge the rest,” Nardole said, patting out a small flame on his coat. Shame, he really loved this coat. Maybe the ship would be kind enough to shoot out a new one for him.

“I wasn’t willing?”

“Don’t pin this on me.” Nardole sent his ruined coat through the rubbish shoot, wishing it a fond farewell.

“You,” the Doctor said, and then stopped, like his brain hadn’t quite caught up with his mouth.

“Would have much rather done that than your catastrophe of a plan, yes.” Nardole paused, considered. “It’s more that I have an issue with being coerced to do things in front of people because the fabric of space/time is dissolving. In general, I think it’d be quite nice to kiss you, and additional activities. If you’re into that, I mean.”

The Doctor stared at him. “Okay,” he said. He rocked back and forth on his heels. “Right, okay.”

“Maybe later, that situation was a bit overwhelming and typically I prefer to take these things slowly.”

“Three times married, huh,” the Doctor said softly. He reached out and squeezed Nardole’s hand briefly before letting it drop. Louder: “I’ll go put the kettle on. Try not to break everything while I’m gone.”

Nardole closed his fist around the hopefully-just-sweat the Doctor had left on his skin. “I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do,” he said, and attempted a wink. It failed miserably but hopefully had the intended effect.

The Doctor made half a smile, like he wasn’t sure he should be doing it and in fact should probably shut it down as swiftly as possible, and wandered off towards where the kitchen might be.

Fourth time’s the charm. Nardole would make a good husband, fake or otherwise. He surreptitiously wiped his hand dry on his trousers and tried not to think too hard about it. Or him. Or them. Any of those.

[robespapier]

7, 8, 9, 19, 26, 28 xoxo

7 and 9 already answered, see previous post ;)

8. OTP

You know, you knoooow, and you know that I know that you know. Anyway, Doctor x Master (definitely needs to actually see some classic who episodes, for science). Used to be Doctor x River.

19. Favorite one off monster

The one in Listen

26. Favorite episode

A lot of great popular favorites come to mind, but The return of Doctor Mysterio will always have a special place in my heart, for reasons entirely unrelated to the episode itself, but also I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Nardole again and ended up pleasantly surprised? 12 figuring out Clark Kent is Superman? 12 eating sushis on a mission? Holding a baby? Quality content.

28. Anything you want to see in the next season

Hahaha, I have to catch up with the current season first! Anyway, 13 meeting Le Mime Marceau and discovering that, contrary to 12, she likes mimes. They can even set it in WW2, since dw seems to love that period? I’m only half joking.