For The Love Of All Things Please, PLEASE Write More Star Trek X Ostaran Reader!

For the love of all things please, PLEASE write more star trek x Ostaran reader!

jee whiz, I’m blushing, okay, I’ll get on that

When Peter Cushing is the heroic lead in the film you're watching

Teacher's Pet part 15

Synopsis: The Doctor steps into his role as the wolf in this game, fully.

A/n: I had to tone down some of this smut. So it's a bit shorter than intended. Elsewise I fear the worst of tumblrs filtration system. LOL! Enjoy! Love you alllllll!

Apparently a young, fresh companion of his future self had formed this support group after several bad experiences and being dumped back on earth ‘for her safety’.

He didn’t have time to care for whatever this distraction was. He already was at the point of near-snapping. He was not going to risk anything into the future. Live under false pretenses. The cords of the actions set would not weaken under these new stressors…

Obviously, his little fawn would die. Obviously, he’d regenerate. Obviously, this would end.

He drew a line in the sand, no peeking at her or his shared fate.

Meeting her at the front of UNIT, and trying the best to not record any facet of this future girls face or being. Doing so would be a catastrophe, just skate down around and go off into the afternoon and his plans.

A perfect date that would further enchant his pet fawn to his side. Especially since she now had the nattering of other voices in her head regarding him. He had to undo the damage. Keep her from cleaving herself from his side.

He admitted to himself that he was spiraling- and just about ready to cross another line. It was just now a matter of how, and how far…

He set that in a corner of his brain how he would go about this.

She was currently entranced by the arrangement of coffees the café and the cacti available. He would have launched into a diatribe about flowers, but she was leading the charge here.

She was oddly well-versed in the secret meaning one could send another. He was impressed. A secret hyperfixation.

He indulged her and him.

One particular flower meant ‘I give you my soul’. He made a note to buy her some. A shallow offering. As he sold his soul long ago. Her knowledge of these meanings and the gesture would go on to create a meaningful ripple effect in the relationship.

Dinner was great, and a perfect segue to the new levels he needed to take.

It was a very deliberate. Give her a small glance, or trail up her exposed skin and a small hit of her own hormones amped up with a mental reimbursement. She was already becoming undone from her own natural need for him. The secondary reinforcement from him was just foreplay.

Humans loved a bit of touch.

This human was definitely no exception.

After a while, the perfect idea dawned on him. A less overt invasion than when they consummated the success of the term’s end the other week. A quieting one. Make up for the directed hormonal release by appealing to darker desires. He knew the thoughts she held for him. Play into some of those fantasies while he shut down the dissent from within.

He paid for the meal and playfully dragged his fawn into a cab, a bit of dancing…and a bit of glamor. He fully realized that there was no turning back now.

The darkness inside him grinned.

He grinned back.

She wasn’t the most agile at the waltz they preformed. A natural-born klutz. The way she was looking at him reminded him so much of the gaze that she held when they first made true contact. Intrigued, deeply in thought, a bit distracted but firmly all for him.

Eventually, the last call for drinks at the dance hall rang. He paid their tab.

He absconded off with her in tow. Back to UNIT. Back to their room. Back for the next phase in his own self-corruption.

She planted a kiss on his forehead as she went off to get herself ready for bed.

The Doctor started stripping himself down to his bare flesh, save for his boxers.

She came back, with a thick layer of product smeared onto her chest, neck and face.

“I’d like to try something new with you. Always been a secret that I’ve had since we’ve started this…” He lied, like a liar. “But I’ve been so concerned about your fragile human body…”

She finished rubbing some hand crème in.

“Oh?” Her eyebrow arched itself over the ridge of her forehead.

“I want to take you on a chair. I want to bend you over, grab a fist-full of your hair as you dangle over the top and have my way with you.” He didn’t fully elaborate what exactly fantasies she held, just put the carrots out and have her think.

“We could do that. Bit tired, but sure! I’m game!” She started to remove her robe.

He pounced and ripped it and her clothes off, tearing them in the process. Hungry kisses he began laying on her as he spun her around and took one wrist to march her over to the chair in the room. (‘Cuck chair’ he delightfully recalled her calling it weeks previously…)

She started to get on willingly, it wasn’t enough. He picked her up and placed her in the position he saw in her mind. The chair let out a little creaking noise with the weight of her.

He bit the back of her neck, not hard enough to deter her income-base, but enough that it would leave a pleasurable bruise. Gone within a week at maximum.

His cock stood at attention. Hard and aching from it all. He had to have and fully make sure she’d never stray or even think of leaving him. He’d been, quite frankly, nursing a little bit of a stiffness down there since she smacked his ass and snogged him on the Tube.

He grabbed at her hair like a leash on a dog and slid himself in to her cunt and her mind.

A man on a mission…

He kept pushing himself in and out of her, but going deeper into her brain. He found the brush she had with his past and future companions. He quieted these voices and the doubts they gave permanently. Still allowing her to keep the friendships blooming and the memories, but revoking the feelings of inadequacy and the fears of the future. The doubts. The everything. A very delicate and deliberate job.

The pruning was difficult, as her mind was very distracted by the current sensations of him pulling her neck back to a semi-dangerous level. Just to kiss her on the lips and tell her, “What a perfectly filthy girl you’re being…” That shuffled her brain like a deck of cards.

The words, especially, they made her audibly shiver. He briefly let go.

He grasped a fistful of her hair again and pressed his mouth once more to her neck. He slid himself to the absolute maximum her tight cunt could handle. He bit down, gently touching the new wound with his tongue. Savoring the taste of her neck, now inflamed so close he swore he could taste her blood through the developing bruise…

He grazed her ear lobe with his eye-tooth and breathed a hot, needy breath into it, he rolled her one nipple in the

He inhaled her hair once more. Its scent just as delicious and just as addictive as he was trying to be to her…

Gently, he laid her back into her stomach over the chair’s back. Her back was beautiful as he ran his hands up and down it, raking his nails like the claws of the wolf he kept coming back to in his analogies.

He pressed his full body weight down, tilting the chair into the wall and bracing, it, her and him from total disrepair. Or concussion.

A concussion on her brain would undo all his fine-tuning and actually make it harder to deal with her mind.

And he needed it in as best of condition as he could have it!

He kept his pace up as he leaned down to bite her nape of the neck, carried away, he drew a tad bit of blood. It dotted itself up around the divots of the fresh wound.

He flooded her mind discreetly once more. Bringing her to her first orgasm mentally. His work was done and fine tuned.

He sped up his pace and grabbed her up by the collarbone. Sliding her down over his knees, firmly set in the seat of it. He grabbed her legs and slid them over and tucked her feet and ankles between the backs of his calves and thighs.

He drilled her more, tougher, the rate he went bordered on blood-lust. He couldn’t tell if her cries and grunts were in pain or pleasure. He went back in to her mind to see if he was going to far.

He wasn’t. It was both.

It egged him on, he unexpectedly lost control and he came before he wanted to. He went on as he felt himself coming to bring her another orgasm with her mind, and forced her body to react accordingly…

He relinquished his hold on her body and got out of her and stood up. She slumped over. Shivering. Shaking. Breathing heavily.

The Doctor didn’t know what all he was feeling. Pride, disgust, relaxation? A mixture? It was a tad too overwhelming.

He had to go to her…

He moved to the side of the chair, crouching down. Finding eye-contact. She had a very unreadable expression on her face.

“Hey, how are you?” He went for the simplest route.

“I…think….you fucked…my brains out. Not exaggerating. I feel like people say. Fuck.” She exhaled after a minute of reflection and catching her breath.

He peeled her off the chair and carried her to the bed. He laid her simply on her back, head up.

“I think I need to buy another set of pajamas now.” She turned her head over and looked at the pile of ruined cloth on the ground.

“You were so good.” He praised her.

“And you weren’t too bad yourself…” She replied, again. Keeping herself, and by extension him, in check.

After what felt like several hours, but was in all actuality, fifteen minutes, she pulled her body off the bed.

“I need to shower again. Yeah.” Her voice as quiet as a fall of a grain of sand.

“I’ll join you. If we need to sleep, we’ll need to be cleaned.” He said.

They showered, she redid her skincare, and they held each other in bed.

She was asleep, he didn’t need to sleep.

As he gazed at the wall, and contemplated the meeting with Gwen Cooper-Williams the next day, it dawned on him:

The beginnings of the story of Little Red Riding Hood was a folklore in the deep dark annals of European history. A dark passionate tale in origin about the defilement of a young maiden and a beastly wolf-man way beyond her years. In some, the wolf-man left her and she killed herself from being impure. In some, she was corrupted and became worse than him. Really depended upon the cultural values of the little tribes telling this shared story.

And here he was, living the fairytale out in real time.

It was up to him now, this wolf had a choice.

And he would not let either happen.

The hunt was finished.

Now to fully devour.

Game over.

Reblog if you're queer, have ADHD, or hate the government.

Nobody needs to know which one.

Teacher's Pet part 9

Synopsis: Can lover's fights be resolved quickly? Or does it set up a new game?

A/N: I would like to thank my younger self for being infinitely cooler than I am now. Also the Kendrick Lamarr version of America has a problem. And to my readers. You fuel this beast that is my spiral into madness. Yippee!

The Doctor had to work quickly. He wasn’t about to let (y/n) slip through his fingers.

How much of a miscalculation this was! He thought this experience would further bond her to him. The swoop of glamor, the gravitas.

So many of his past companions followed a script. See the TARDIS, get a chance to save the day. Enter, become his friend and companion. Come to grips with reality and then cling to him as a life preserver.

He mentally cursed himself out. He should have just stuck to his original plan of never telling. Or just casually, maybe after her graduation, to do a meeting with Missy and explain Nardole.

It was better to keep her in the dark.

The thought of a memory wipe crossed his head. But after all that with Donna and after he got his mind wiped of Clara…the idea was less savory and could backfire.

If not for Missy and his duty to care for her, he would never had remembered Clara.

Missy was good for that. Her psychic skills and progress were always far superior, more accurate than his.

The thought of him contacting her mentally and getting her on board and then having her disentangle this day from his little fawn’s mind briefly flitted through.

Too late, as (y/n) was already climbing out of her shower. She didn’t take her time with it.

He braced himself for the next bit.

He usually wasn’t on the receiving end of this behavior.

She exited, wrapped in the towel. Her eyes were red from tears and lack of sleep. She stood in a defiant stance facing him, water still dripping off her legs.

She kept on hand braced at the top, protecting her modesty. She rose the other and pointed with her index finger. She inhaled and held her breath for a long second. He could tell that she was steeling herself. Preparing what she had to say, and wanted to say it without stopping or stuttering or anything else.

He let her have to floor.

Her next breath was long and rattled out of her like death from a corpse.

“Listen, I understand that you couldn’t have came out saying ‘Hey! I’m an alien stuck on Earth!’ without sounding totally fucking schizophrenic.” She hand went to under her armpits. More protecting of her precious modesty. A mini suit of armor, he gathered. “Am I blaming you for not wanting to sound insane? Even if it’s the truth? Sort of. But like, it’s also my fault. I was too stupid. I also made my happiness contingent on a man’s affection. If you are a man. You look pretty damn male to me. Feel pretty damn male to me. But I digress!” An exhausted, bereaved look fell over her face. “I said from the beginning I never wanted this to happen. But I did. This did.” She caught her breath and swallowed heavily. “I don’t really fucking know what to do or think here. Would it be dumber to leave, or dumber to stay? Would you just abduct me and probe me if I left? I don’t know any aliens besides you. I think. I don’t know…I don’t know what aliens do.”

“It’s too late to get anyone driving.” She finished up. “I’ll sleep on it. But, I don’t know.” Her eyes slammed shut tightly and she shook her head. He dare not probe in her brain to see if he could do anything, say anything, especially after that comment she just made…

“Find somewhere else to sleep.” She ordered. “Or sleep on the cuck chair. I don’t care. I need my sleep and to clear my mind. Don’t fucking touch me.”

It was a better outcome than he was expecting. A testament to his methods and his abilities. It was real affection too. In parts and pieces.

A shot in the arm, at least.

He could make strategies and find the most clever words at night. After all, he did need less sleep than a human. Mental seduction was now a line drawn in not sand, but concrete. And it was drying quickly.

He sat down in what she deemed the “cuck chair”. He’d have to Google that term later.

She got dressed quickly and did her little human skincare rituals quicker. After crawling into bed, she put her back to him and snapped off the lights.

The silent treatment…

He could work with that.

He heard her let out a few heaves of a half cry.

The thought of throwing her secrets into her face crossed his mind. Secret for secret. But he knew that was petty and would further alienate him from her. To shame her into submission was the opposite of what he needed to do.

Plus, with the way she operated, it’d be a blow out. Only a Time Lord with access to her brain would know.

All night his mind raked through scenarios.

And her sleep was restless, tons of thrashing and some talking. He got out of the chair a few times and it seemed she was also leaking tears.

He resisted the urge to wipe them away. And to rifle through her mind.

Thankfully the morning robbed him of overthinking any more.

She woke with such a start, her chest heaving and face crusted with dried tear salt.

The Doctor made his way to fake…something in the bathroom. Give her space.

He flushed the toilet and washed his hands.

She had already dressed up and sat on the chair. Just a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved turtleneck. She was slouched and a glum expression slacked across her face. She was chewing on her pinky nail with one hand and the other was tapping very quickly.

“I’m not going back to Bristol. Fuck it, I’m in London.” She announced very nonchalantly.

She heaved.

“You can’t help how you are. I can’t either. We’re an odd couple. An alien and a…” She caught herself. “Human.” She wasn’t ready to reveal her secrets yet. Of all the people in the universe, he understood the urge for secrecy.

“Don’t take me for a fool. No more wool over the eyes or a snow job. If I want to know, I’ll ask. Vice versa. Of course.” She conceeded.

“If you lay hands on me, it’s my right to launch you into the stratosphere.” She stood up for herself…it seemed like she was speaking from deep experience.

“I’m not going to waste whatever is between you and me. But yeah.” She cracked her knuckles and wrists. “Is that good for you? It’s good for me.” She ended getting up and grabbing at her purse.

His time to speak came.

“That’d work for me.” He decided the simplest words would make the best impact. He noted that this incarnation of himself was a sucker for women who likes to pull a bossy act, but came undone so easily under him. He’d lure his fawn back to him. Somehow…

“Okay, ummm. Fine, I’m going to go out, get some things. I’ll be fine. Message me whenever your done with whatever you needed to do today.”

She exited and he went off to help UNIT.

Distracted and raw, he did his duties.

They went off and Kate declared the operation a success.

He texted (y/n) to meet him at a café that was near the unit head quarters.

She met him and he went to kiss her hand. She smelled heavily of cigarette smoke and her sunglasses were glinting, eyes damn near unreadable. She had a few small shopping bags on her.

“You were busy.” He noted.

“Well, you did mention a play and I didn’t have anything appropriate.” She admitted. “I wanted to look nice…for you. Don’t want to embarrass you. Especially since you’re so nicely dressed this weekend.” Her head nodded to the side. “I’ve never seen you in a button down.” She mused, “They suit you.”

She gave a crooked half-grin, half-grimace.

It seemed that yesterday and this morning laid heavy on her mind.

Against his better judgment, he gently entered the surface of her mind and gently swept aside some doubt of self and this. Still there but not probing sharp and heavy. Gently safe, gently there. Letting her still have her free will, just sheltered nerves.

Maybe he still hung around Missy too much.

Even though, this wasn’t as bad as what either of them has done in the past regarding Time Lord’s skill sets in meddling in people’s minds.

This was for the better, would stop her from harming herself, he rationalized…

She relaxed and they finally entered the café. He got his usual cappuccino with enough sugar to overwhelm an entire preschool’s population, she got a simple espresso lungo.

“See!” He said as he took a sip, “Just like humans do.”

“Ah.” She said, her mouth partially hidden behind the cup.

“Sun feels nice…” She said, sitting down at a seat that got the full blast of it on her face. “Rare English sun…” She mused again. “Maybe it’s an omen.” She shrugged, fingering the one pendant around her neck like it was a talisman.

The late-spring sun shone in her hair, illuminating different shades and colors in her (insert your color of hair you have here, dear reader!). Much different than in the early days with the weak winter sun. It was radiant.

Semi-sarcastically, semi-impertinently, he asked, “Can I touch your hair?” His hand already halfway shot out. (Maybe he did have ADHD.)

She took another petite sip of her drink. She nodded, “Sure.” She placed the cup down and let the sun hit her more, shrugging out of her jacket, and extending her arms out to get the rays on then.

He leaned out and slipped his right hand through the line of her hair. Feeling it’s textures and gave a short swirl of the ends between his fingers. With his other hand he gripped her already clasped-together hands.

The cool metal of her rings was already warming in the sun.

It felt right, a small simple moment. He wished he had gotten more with more people.

“Let’s cut the mishegas.” She said after a while. “Let’s make this work.”

The Doctor nodded in assent, taking another sip of his drink. “Whatever you need.”

After a while, and minimal talking, they went back to UNIT head quarters and the Doctor took a meeting with the entire engagement crew and leads. (Y/N) decided to give a quick check in and chat with Petronella and asked her about her favorite place for a brunch on Sunday.

Sadly, Petronella didn’t know any good places, but she’d ask around and get back to her.

(Y/N) went off to prep for the night out.

The Doctor was buzzing, he was entirely intrigued by what his fawn’s idea of appropriate was for a West End play. Especially after her comment about his outfit.

He had no references, just what he’d seen a few companions wear.

He was properly doing a date in the first time since he sent River off to die on his younger self in the Library.

He hoped this one would be less chaotic. (Y/N) seemed a flight risk if any invasions or anything close to his normal dalliances he had on Earth happened.

He could respect her need for peace and quiet. It was admirable.

The meeting was just about ready to close up when she entered and sat next to him, sliding the chair over closer to his.

He gave a quick look over. Everyone did. It was a distraction. She entered in a slightly-overdid cloud of perfume.

She was…glittering. Glowing.

That was the only word to explain it. Obviously, she’d taken certain professional cues. Her legs were elongated in some ridiculous contractions masquerading as shoes. Her hair was pinned back in some areas and let loose in others. She wore a simple black dress and a tight black opened, long cardigan.

It seemed she was trying to send a message.

Her face was shining and her eyes were accented.

Definitely a big one.

He turned, interrupting the already interrupted meeting, slowly blinking.

“Don’t mind me. I’ll just wait.” She smiled, crossing over her wrists, sliding her arms onto the board room table, slightly slouched, slight pushed forward.

Whatever this little message was, he felt his cock stiffen a bit.

Is this what her clientele saw? This bejeweled wonder? All a show of confidence and heavily-scented fodder?

Was this her doing? To show him that she could invite the gaze of anyone she wanted?

His mind swirled with jealousy.

Then the rational side, who knew her for what she was when she wasn’t trying kicked in. She was just trying to look nice for the theatre! Nothing more, nothing less.

He hadn’t felt this white-hot dagger of jealousy since that PE teacher…What’s his name, Danny? Denny? Denise?

This human had him stymied again…

Too soon and yet not long enough, his duties ended for the night. She got up and went to Petronella for a moment to exchange numbers and she tossed her head, hair reacting to the little motion, shaking away. He caught a glint of her teeth backed against the lipstick, deeply pigmented.

His observation about them being friends was correct.

He felt a little unable to leave his seat. He had to will his body to do such an action. He accomplished it and went to near the door frame.

“Yeah, text me any time. I’ll see you later.” He heard her say.

She took a giant step away and joined him. She gripped his arm and shrugged on shoulder up. “How do I look for my first West End play?” There was a very new expression in her eyes. One that seemed unreachable.

He was rather uneasy in those micro-clues in this body, unless he relied on his mind to connect and check in...

“You’ll do.” The Doctor beamed.

She fixed her strap under the cardigan and they began their walk to the outside. A swirly motion, it was oddly hypnotic and drew his eyes to her chest. Her necklaces glinted in the light and clinked together gently. He let a small, sardonic grin form on his face.

On to call a cab, the Doctor noticed he had a bit of trouble counterbalancing his weight against her in the added three or four inches of (y/n). His little fawn had little trouble on her wobbly legs. He was the one in trouble, slightly stumbling like a newborn deer…

A reversal.

Before he properly could form any more thoughts she got a cab to come off the side of the streets.

Onto the play, onto a new act.

But what was she getting at showing up like that?

Or was this just nothing…?

He had to find out or give up quickly.

Not acts, no playing.

Just the night ahead.

Teacher's Pet part 11

Synopsis: The Doctor's morals slip further. It's become obvious to him that he needs to develop some actual strategy.

A/n: I'm so sorry it's been another gap in writing...if any of yall are still vibin with it, sound off!! Thanksss (I'm going to try to push more out quicker soon. Again!)

In the car ride home, he calculated. This situation almost was a faltering car crash in itself!

He nearly lost her, and to his own stupid pride!

He spent the entire car ride juggling with his morality. Taking curious little half-peeks into her brain. It seemed a bit past due, this. He finally gave in no small way…

At one end, they were chattering on. Her mind was racing around in many convergent pathways on the topics brought up. Anything from her probing about various curiosities. And the deep philosophical ranges he would invoke, just to keep her brain in a frenzy. It would be easier to parse down through and pierce. Missy, the Rani and he got top marks at the Academy on a project involving chaos and order in the arts of mind reading. He was stunned by the sheer amount of seemingly superfluous knowledge that she had crammed in there. Even though he knew she was smart, clever and balanced differently than your average human.

At the other, he was searching. Seeing what (y/n) was up to, planning out. Past what she said, what she thought and thought she said and thought. She was still a bit angry and was trying her hardest to let go, and not be jealous. She was fighting naming what she felt for him as love. There was quite the struggle with inner hypocrisy.

One small part of her genuinely was enamored with the thoughts that he chose her. That he seemed truthful that he wanted her to grow old alongside him in his retirement. Whatever that looked like. She was still reeling about the (as stated frequently in her brain…) “Fucking ageless alien bit”.

She had some caveats that she was going to bring up, later, of course. She didn’t want to spoil the weekends happy afterglow.

He could feel the choking nature of her holding her tongue in his brain as he went in deeper.

It felt so illicit! He wasn’t one to be like this, he’d have to go scream at Missy for this later, but it was freeing. He finally understood the humans and their gossip rags.

“I don’t endorse that behavior, but I agree with some of their points.” She admitted, in the real-life conversation. He snapped himself out of her mind.

She never stopped surprising him. Even now, as he held the inter-workings of her brain in his hand. It seemed that she’d always thwart him and his understandings.

Although, she was very distracted by his physicality, and that would be an advantage to him. She was very docile in that regards. Different from what he could tell went on in her work.

He would have to go down new avenues…

Or would he? She’d already so surrendered herself to the ideas of them.

He’d have to dwell in that later, maybe after his yelling session at Missy.

A perfect pet to keep on Earth, in her own time and place. Where nothing would ever rip her away from him…

The idea made him giddy.

Utterly addicted to it. Utterly ashamed of it.

Finally back to Bristol, she left and said she had to attend to her studies. Which was fine by him.

He descended into the Vault.

“Your parents were wrong! I’m not the bad influence, you are!” He entered pointer finger out, jacket fluttering behind him.

“I’d love to know what that high praise is for!” Missy jumped, almost shocked at this outburst.

“I’m out here invading people’s minds and rummaging around like it’s a toy chest!” He accused.

“Whatever happened to ‘Hello!’ or ‘How are you, haven’t seen you in months, Missy! How’s life?’ or even ‘Hey, Missy, here’s a tuba, I know you love ‘em!’?”

“That human girl…” He seethed, feeling remorse bubble up.

“Another ickle girlie dead?” Missy smiled, teeth showing, glinting with a venomous shine…

He felt her start to enter his mind and he let her in. Doors opened and she started sifting through the past months.

“Oh! This is too good!” She giggled, her hips swishing in her skirt.

“Naughty boy, Doctor! You’re tramping up with this girl.”

“We’re not that different after all! You with your…whore. Sorry, little Fawn. And me with my twenty-seven nuclear missiles!”

“What?”

“Oh, back when I was Prime Minister! I bought some missiles from some Russian man and I have them in a garden shed somewhere in Scotland. I forget where.”

He’d deal with that even later.

His head was physically painful as she didn’t take care and do an ounce of discretion as he did to (y/n)’s brain earlier.

“I want to meet her! Please!” She drew out the ‘please’ and clasped her hands together. “I promise to act cool.”

“One day, if you’re very good.”

“The best.” She bowed deeply.

“I always knew you’d loop around to do something like this. Ever since you started palling about with that Jo Grant. Lovely woman. But I knew you’d give in. You always have to have the prettiest companions on your arms. Vain and dirty old man.”

“I was pining for you.” The Doctor confessed.

“And I was pining for you, and Jo. Do you have a point?” She confessed back.

“Come on, you were always this close to ascending to god-like levels of delusion. I was the one to hold you back. And I was always going to become what I am. I may be many, many, many levels of crazy. But I’m honest about it…” .

The Doctor wiped his face.

“Yeah, I’ll leave you to this. I need to clear my head. I have work tomorrow. And to meet her.”

Missy just started making kissing noises and wrapping her arms around her body as if she were deep in a lover’s embrace.

The Doctor left the Vault. His brain in a state of chaos that wasn’t Missy’s making.

He wasn’t above certain things, but he had to remain a hero. Honor Clara’s bit of “Be the Doctor”. And to keep his reputation up. He felt positively furtive.

This wasn’t going to be an easy option. Dealing with Daleks? A walk in the park compared to his morals disintegrating around him over his attraction to a human woman.

Could he still be the Doctor? And be Professor Smith to her and others?

Why had this foresight not come to him as he and Nardole started this little façade…

He never thought he’d fall for another human again.

Stupid him.

Idiot Doctor.

Humans were always worming their way into his hearts.

It was inevitable…

He went to his office to prepare for the week.

He missed the smell of cigarette smoke and her sweat.

He hated the scent, but it reminded him of his fawn. He chose his pet name for her well…

The lone wolf that would pursue the separated fawn.

Very good metaphors.

He had his legitimate tutoring of her tomorrow, however. How could he leverage this? Make her further buckle into him…

What a sweet sin.

Her desire for him.

He recognized his unhealthy veering into base, carnal feelings. Haunting him.

The images of Earth’s own myths of fallen angels danced in his mind.

Was he a fallen angel here? Or was she?

He certainly was falling as an hero. The ethical moor of the universe.

Retiring from interstellar heroics and focusing on his dearest best enemy. Now he was leading a young woman into his web of interest.

Selfish.

Infinitely so…

Hadn’t he deserved it? Deserved it all.

He was the universe’s slave for a truly insane amount of years.

He was (to borrow a phrase…) the Master of His Own Fate. It was his birth right, not only as a Time Lord, but as the ultimate survivor of every wound the Time War had brought out. The savior and destroyer of all of creation.

He was owed this.

The Doctor was now demanding this.

Zero compromises. Even if that was bad optics…

His thoughts became a lust-filled power trip.

He taught his classes and set up his office for tutoring. He was unwilling to part with pretense. Of course, he’d educate her! It was her right! She paid for it!

But the trap…

The glimmering trap of self.

The uneasy shift in morality turned over in his brain like a car’s engine on a frosty day.

How deep was he actually willing to go, to not only have his selfish needs taken care of? How much of a betrayal of self and his past would he commit to? Could he?

And her…precious her…mostly unaware of how much fire she was playing with.

He got her a coffee just as she liked and set up the office, he let the bright light of the Spring day stream in through the windows.

After some deliberation, he took the huge tapestry off where he tucked his TARDIS.

“Sorry, old girl. Maybe one day you’ll get a chance…” He muttered, stroking the wood of the door, lightly brushing the lock.

He felt unworthy to stand in it’s unveiled presence, but it would help the game shift…

She came in, all plain clothes and awkward grace. Herself at her core.

Today, she was overzealous with her perfume and looked beyond tired.

He didn’t probe her mind.

“I’m assuming that’s your ship.” She stated, a look that could be easily misconceived flashed across her face.

“Vintage.” She described it aptly.

“In an effort of truthfulness…I’m showing you it.” He explained, approaching her slowly, coffee in hand extended.

She took it and followed with a large sip.

“I’m assuming it’s got some cloaking thing, I don’t know…like Star Trek or something?” She observed. “Not well, of course, but hey…we can’t really expect TV show-level perfection.”

He nodded.

He went for a half-truthful flatterer’s route. “On the ticket. So many are shocked and confused.”

She shrugged and sucked her teeth against her lips. “I’ve got fuck-all to do sometimes so…”

“Terms coming to an end soon, want to discuss the last of the notes and my lectures before exams? Or…” He alluded.

“Oh, yeah. No special treatment here, thanks. I need help.” She made a motion of a non-committal nature with her free hand as she placed the coffee down and unhindered herself from her hoodie and bag…

And they were off, talking about it all and the lessons of the course. She was apparently very determined to get by on her skills. Not wanting any of the favoritism that shtupping the teacher could have brought her marks…

Her sliding scale of morals amused him.

It was oddly complimentary.

It added layers to this little game she didn’t know she was playing.

“Some weekend, huh?” She said as time was beginning to run out. The awkward, reassuring smile and slouched body language completely opposite to her showy presentation on Saturday night.

“Not at all my plans.”

“Yeah, I could tell.” The shaky little half-chortle echoed across the room. She went to go chew on a hang nail. He gently removed her thumb from her mouth before she could bite the aggrieved area.

“I like Petronella. She’s a great person. She’s coming up to visit me over the summer holiday. And vice versa.”

“Meet me here tonight. More truthfulness…” He offered, a dangerous idea flickering into his brain and coming out of his mouth before he could control himself.

He have to project his messages to Missy at a mental scream all day. Give her guidelines…promising her the tuba she so desperately wanted. It’d probably be just as hefty an annoyance as her piano.

“At what time? And what?” She pushed.

“Oh, you’ll see… how about nine PM?”

She gave a little nod of her head.

They broke the meeting with a kiss.

He went off to teach, sending Missy the message and threats of many lifetimes…