Teacher's Pet Part 14

Teacher's Pet part 14

Synopsis: The Reader gets a potential glimpse into her future. She also makes an enemy.

A/n: yeaaayyyy. More fun. Fuckery world building. Thanks to all my readers. I should probably do a tag list instead of zapping ur inboxes. Uhhh....yeah. to my mutuals who have to deal with me and aren't attached to this, I am sorry. I love you and I would donate my organs to you.

Grades were posted. Most were good, nothing to really write home about. You did far better than you expecting. The self-doubt really was deep-rooted, wasn’t it?

Except one. That stupid alien gave you a near-perfect. Just one point shy of an absolutely perfect one-hundred percent.

So much for no favoritism…

You’d take it anyways. And not bring it up…

Work was slow but it was steady.

He even met you between shifts at your park.

You started feeling a tad insane without him. Did love feel like this? You admitted you had little experience with love. Just what you attempted to create in the past. And trashy books and television shows and movies and songs…

You needed him like you needed a cigarette and a stiff drink after a long day.

Bella Swan would be so proud of you, you degraded yourself in your mind.

“How is work going?” The Doctor asked with genuine shine of curiosity in his tone and face.

“The amount of professors in now…I have to dodge them! I do think the statistics professor I had two terms ago recognized me!” You spoke in a shocked, scared tone. You didn’t need that getting out. Could ruin your future plans.

“Oh no!” He chuckled, as he handed you a bit of sandwich.

“You aren’t forgettable.”

You skeptically glared over at him.

“Any who. How was your gig at the student union?”

“No one appreciated the irony of Pink Floyd.”

“And?”

“Everyone loves Doctor Disco!” He flourished then played air guitar.

You burst out laughing. With a quick roll of your eyes, you shook your head.

“You’re such a nerd.”

“I invented the concept!”

“Probably true!” You let yourself think of his time on Earth. Who knew what funk he has spread? You weren’t going to delve into it much more.

Yet.

One day, when you felt brave enough.

“I have to go to London for a while in two weeks. Just maintenance of the Black Archives…I need to streamline some stuff for making it easier for my next few regenerations. And update some things about a plan for proxy since another organization is down to a woman named Gwen and her husband and she’s thinking of retiring the entire engagement. Her…leader hasn’t returned to the planet in ages. I doubt he ever will. This planet has caused him too much pain. Which, ironic, since his ancestors came from here. Talk about mother wounds! Just upload all the databases for UNIT to deal with.”

“Inviting me?” You clarified.

“Yeah…I think it’ll take a week. Especially with the layers of bureaucracy that is in place these days.” He looked over, his hair caught in the wind. “Could you spare a week? No TARDIS, no time travel. Just hop to, hop out, the slow way around.”

You licked your top row of teeth and scraped it back into place.

“Sure?”

“Perfect. I’ll have them ready a room, a better room for us.”

“One with a window?”

“If they do have those.”

You nodded.

“It’s a date!”

“Fantastic.” He smiled but seemed to flash in his eyes some hidden response from just the one word…

You chewed your shared sandwich and sipped your can of Coke Zero. The weather was getting warmer and the sun was actually shining in one of those perfect, photo-ready days.

“The vitamin D feels good, doesn’t it?” You turned your head to face the sun. The heat felt too good on your skin. You let a little moan slip through your lips.

“Perhaps. I might need a sun crème soon.” He replied.

You snorted. He was bone pale, but you didn’t know how alien skin worked yet.

“Yeah, you are pretty pale.”

Your alarm went off and you had to go.

Final good-byes said and you stalked off.

You had to plan out your little London escape. If it was hard work for him, you wanted to kill time in comfort. Do some sightseeing. Nothing major. London had tons of viral cafés and pop-ups.

The time flew by…

And suddenly you were off and away in another fancy armored Range Rover with armed escorts.

He did do you a bit of justice and got you a room with a view. Just not a particularly stunning one…

He went off, rather rapidly if you did say so yourself, because something needed him to submit his DNA and he couldn’t have any radiant interference. Petronella needed to be with him to get her DNA analyzed or something. You were not going to try to comprehend.

Fine by you, you’d nose around. There were so many floor and he gave you some sort of weird blank paper he said would get you through anything you needed.

“It’s psychic paper!” He said, smile up to his ears.

“Looks like a piece of printer paper shoved into an old wallet to me.” You replied as you regarded the object.

Fine by you, you stuffed it in your jean’s pocket.

You found yourself on the first floor, and saw a door open. There was a sign posted on an easel. ‘Companions and Surviving Family Support Group’, it proclaimed.

You put two and two together. It was probably in reference to the man doing who-knows-what.

You weren’t a companion per say. The Doctor assured you as much.

Did you invade? Did you go look at your future? Or a potential future? It mentioned family members…

Your curiosity got the best of you. Like that damn cat!

You walked in, it was set up like a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. Coffee, sweet treats, chairs all in a circle.

There were already a crowd of people.

And your entrance wasn’t exactly planned.

You slid onto the chair that was closest to the door. An east exit if this was too much.

“Oh! A new face!” A woman with a lot of life etched into her face with a kind smile and a mop of white-shock hair, her lips as red as blood.

“Does, is…am I late?” Was the best you could choke out. You could feel your eyes start to bulge. You swallowed hard. All eyes were on you. You didn’t like it. You preferred anonymity.

The mistake was already clear in your mind.

“No, dove. Right on time! We’re still waiting on Ian! I’m Jo!” She scooted her chair closer to you.

You thrust your tongue out and bit it’s side.

“I’m (y/n).”

A short woman with a leather jacket and all the authoritarian air of something that placed your hairs on the back of your neck at attention glared at you and Jo. “Why don’t we save it all for introductions…”

You got up and grabbed a bottle of water and sat back down.

An ancient man wandered in and sat down.

“Oh! Ian, love! We got a new straggler!” Jo said to him and gave him a hug that seemed too strong for her aged body.

The bossy girl cleared her throat. “Now we can start.”

You hated her already. She clearly ran this group with an iron fist.

There was Jo, Ian, the bitch’s name was Yaz, Martha, a woman who called herself Ace, a married couple named Nyssa and Tegan, a grandmother and grandson duo named Graham and Ryan, a Mel, and some young man named Luke…

Quite a big group.

It came down to you, you introduced yourself. And were supposed to give some brief synopsis of your relationship with the Doctor.

You stared off into space.

“Yeah, he’s here…doing something. I don’t know. I’m his…girlfriend. He’s also a professor at my university.” You stared at your left palm and gauged the reaction. “Nothing major. I’ve got his promise that he’s not going to get me in the way of death.” You finished with a shrug. “He introduced me to his…ex recently. Some milf named Missy. Have you lot met her?”

Yaz’s eyes could have make entrails out of you…

“What? Did I not brush my teeth correctly?” You pointed that faux-question towards her.

“She told me she didn’t do relationships.” She spoke in a tiny voice eventually.

“Well, maybe I’m special.” You shot Yaz a shit-eating grin masked as an innocent smile.

“Oh! I heard the Master went female!” Jo broke up your brewing tiff. “He was such a softie towards me! I enjoyed our little battles.”

You laughed and covered up your palm.

The conversations went on. Mainly centered around Missy now. Apparently she was the prime minister and tortured Martha and her family. Also, body-snatched Nyssa’s father. And became a cat. She’d certainly done her fair share of damage. No wonder she was chained up in a basement in Bristol of all places.

That explained her feline nature.

“Which Doctor are you with?”

“I don’t know. Tall? Thin? Scottish? Severe face? Plays guitar? Wild grey hair. Dark roots, too handsome…yeah.” You didn’t know how many or what the Doctor looked like previously.

“Oh. So the one before Yaz and Graham and me!” Ryan piped up. “She mentioned being a grey-haired Scot right before we met her.”

“Oh, so he got his wish of being a chick next.” You affirmed.

“Wonder what happened to you!” Yaz said, venom starting to leak into her voice.

“Nothing I need to know about, okay?” You pressured back. Two could play this game.

She clearly had sour grapes over you getting chosen and not her.

More conversations broke out, more story-swapping. You started to feel beyond way out just out of your depths. You had to keep your calm. Especially in front of your new foe. Any weakness and you were going to be either throwing down with her or she’d do something unspeakable.

She was apparently a police officer, after all!

“So you’ve never gone on an adventure? To space? Not even back in time? Or forward?” Ace spoke incredulously.

“No, I’m not going to put my life at risk. I made him promise to not. He’s retired. He just needs to help UNIT and rehabilitate Missy.”

“She doesn’t stay good!” Yaz spit out. She then told her tale of him and how the only way to break free from him, the Doctor had to hand Missy over to the Nazis.

“Not my problem.” You said, after finally scraping your jaw off the floor.

“And wow, what the fuck happened between now and when? Handing over someone to the literal Nazis?” You shot up an errant hand and glared. “And hanging around cops. No offense. It’s like historical Jesus versus American Jesus.” You made the decision to bite your middle finger nail in a covert attempt to flip her off.

“Maybe you had something to do with it.” She accused.

“Oh, yeah. Blame me.” You said.

Others attempted civility between the two of you.

Martha seemed between two minds here.

“Just remember how powerful your emotions are!” Ian called out. “Especially how deeply the Doctor evokes them in us!”

It dawned on you, and you decided to take the highest of roads. “Yeah, were dealing with some alien. Like…damn. We really are out here getting….cut up over an alien. He’s our weird alien. But yeah.” He was your alien. And you were going to defend your man, but you didn’t want Yaz and her feelings to make you any less powerful. “His body count has got to be in the millions.” You used the term in a way to dig in that the Doctor picked you for the mainstream meaning and not Yaz. But it worked for companions too!

“Who knows how many of us he’s taken a shine to!” Suddenly you felt yourself heart plummet. You knew you weren’t special as part of a group, but you decided to soothe yourself with your marked differences. No magical abduction story. Just a normal, morally-grey student and teacher relationship. Only it was your luck to end up with the most ran-through alien.

And, it did suit you. You too were ‘ran-through’.

You wished he was free and you could get some comfort here…

You felt yourself return to normal, and decided to pass the ultimate catch.

“Sorry for getting heated. The past month or so since he’s revealed his double life to me, has been…shattering. I’ve only recently discovered that he was…you know, not some man I hang out with. I only recently started calling him Doctor. Not Professor Smith.”

The though of him not taking anyone else as a lover after you did fill you with a sense of pride. Whatever impact you had, that was a mark in your favor. Loyal to you…even if you were dead or broken-up or whatever your fate was to mess around with anyone else.

A permanent (y/n)-shaped hole no one could even get close enough to fill.

When he was done with his task you’d have to slap him and then suck him off.

Martha finally put in her two cents.

“Just don’t get hurt. The last time he was in love when I was with him…so bad. The ending was enough to destroy me.”

“Thank you.”

The conversation went back to normal. You really enjoyed Jo’s stories. Apparently he was a white-haired debonair sort for her. You were curious to see what that had looked like. You doubted it could compare to your particular Doctor, but it was probably very close.

You found yourself laughing and getting along with most. Except for Yaz. You both kept finding yourselves shooting daggers at each other.

You tried to rise above it.

However. You were only human…

You heard a sharp rap at the door and turned at the noise.

It was your Doctor.

“Sorry. I was going to the toilets. Heard some nice familiar voices. Smelt the coffee! I love a cup of coffee after genetic sequencing…Hello!”

There were nary a word as he strode over and made a cup, dumping about a dozen sugar packets in.

“I’ll let you all talk amongst yourselves. Oh, and (y/n), I have tickets to walk through the Chelsea Physic Garden at three. Will you join me? And Martha, I am so deeply sorry for all I’ve done to you. It’s weighed on my conscience since I was a young man in a bow-tie. Truly. From the bottoms of both my hearts. And, oh, faces I don’t know yet, catch your laters.” He shot a quick peace sign.

He breezed out with the same ease that he came in with…

You flushed hard and felt yourself wanting to kick your legs hard. The smile that crept up around your face was probably very goofy. You felt suddenly very giddy and lovesick. And embarrassed.

You swore you heard Yaz mutter something about “Daddy issues”.

You wanted to snap and fight her on the floor.

Jo and Ace heckled. “Oh, he’s back to being a groovy gentleman.” Jo said. “I recognize that red jacket!”

After a while, everyone seemed to wrap it up.

You received quite a few warnings about how passionate a relationship with the Doctor is, and how it would eventually run it’s course.

You didn’t know whether to heed it, or believe him. You were airing on the side of him. After all, he could have popped down here in his TARDIS, but he was following your regulations down to the letter. Changed behaviors, and for whatever reason, when you were long gone, and he was a she, the Doctor didn’t take Yaz up on her romantic offerings.

You felt ashamed of your ‘I can fix him’/’I am the only exception’ mindset. You were a rebel to the idea of monogamy usually. You also didn’t believe in true love. Not after all that you’d seen at work and even experienced in your personal life. However, the beating of your heart and the ache in your soul and the throb of your cunt interfered…

You felt like you were his favorite.

Maybe you were.

You were delusional enough, you decided.

With final hugs and you swore you’d get down and learn more about your shared alien, you’d exited to go and text him that you were out front, smoking.

“You know, maybe you died from lung cancer.” Yaz materialized, carrying some stuff to her car. “Or emphysema.”

You blew out a puff in her general direction.

“I don’t need a lecture. He’s already on my ass enough to get me to quit.” You played back.

“So, lady Doctor. What does she look like?” You asked. Curious. You tried a friendly route. “Still Scottish?” The two incarnations of Time Lords you had met had been. It was an honest question. You even tried a cordial laugh.

“No, definitely not Scottish.”

You nodded.

“She’s blonde and has the most amazing eyes! I took her to get her ears pierced. She’s the most incredible and infuriating person I’ve ever met.”

“Apparently that’s par for the course.” You agreed.

She gave you some agreement.

“Does she still play guitar?” You offered an opportunity to bond, girl to girl. You may have hated her, but a cop on your side may come in handy. One day. And you both were tied to each other now.

So…you had to act your age or whatever.

She was a little younger than you. You could remember being her age. Empathy.

“No, she can’t even carry a tune. She sings all the time.”

You had to let a small snort escape.

“He can sing really well.” You cupped a palm to your mouth. “It’s a bit annoying at times, you know. He frequently does during his lectures.”

“So…that hadn’t changed.” You could see the gears in her brain turning.

“Wait, he’s your professor?” She exclaimed.

“Not currently.” You shrugged, as his text saying that he was coming down popped up, absolved of guilt.

“That’s so wrong!”

“Honey, the Doctor abducts barely legal girls with a degree of regularity. I think a tame affair with a student who started uni later than most is the best-case scenario. You included.” You flicked a bit of ash off your cigarettes end. “No offense.”

“Yeah…” You clearly won.

He swanned into the little front garden at the entrance of UNIT. He changed to a hoodie and simple black blazer and a relaxed pair of checked trousers.

It made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey. I was thinking Italian for dinner. Or Thai. In the fifty-second century there’s a great collision of their flight colonies.”

You smacked your teeth together and let out the final puff of smoke.

“You’re the Doctor before my Doctor.” Yaz gazed up, a look of pre-mourning in her eyes.

“As my wife, River, would say, ‘Spoilers, sweetie.’ It’s nice to meet you early. I’ll try to wipe you from my memory to make it easier for my future self.” He gave Yaz’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Yeah, good luck. See you soon?” You called out as you let yourself be swept off your feet by your particular Doctor.

“Sure?” You heard her say.

A few blocks later and going on the Underground, you pulled him close by the lapels. You gave him a firm kiss and slapped his ass. It was a ‘thank-you’ in a small, simple way. You’d never end up, all things go as planned, like any of those perfect victims. Who knew, maybe you’d dump him. It was all open-ended.

You had your entire life ahead of you. More or less.

For now, it was just you, the Doctor, and a walk in a garden with a fabulous dinner date.

“What was that for?” He looked at you quizzically.

“You’ll never know…” You grinned immensely and a little psychotically. You felt your nose crinkle a bit.

“Oh?” He replied back, skeptical in tone.

It was a start.

“Yeah…” You breathed, inhaling this moment. Inhaling the scent of him, you felt sane, safe, stable and most importantly- in love and loved back.

The train pulled up.

A perfect start to a perfect week.

He snaked out the psychic paper and tapped it like it was an oyster card. You entered the platform and smiled up at him...

Yeah, life was beyond awesome.

Teacher's Pet part 8

Synopsis: Truths are revealed, jeopardizing what lies between these two lovers. Why? And how?

A/n: Angst! Angst! And in this chapter, I personally will relinquish a grudge, Sophia I forgive you now, sorta. I swear things may improve! Also, Petronella is a girl's girl and alive. Fuck what the Canon says.

You never expected the tables to turn that quickly. You never wanted to have an affair. You just subconsciously wanted him. Maybe more than subconsciously.

How dumb.

You left his office and went off to your tutoring. Your chest still ringing from beating too hard. Your ears were tingling.

You figured one would have to be deaf, dumb and blind to not notice your obvious puppy dog. (Or how did he put it just now? “A fawn separated from it’s mother too early”…?) Crush you were developing on him.

Was it desperation and he was merely scratching an itch? Something to warm his bones after a dry-spell since his wife died? If not, why not just go see an escort? (You shuddered at an accidental outing.)

You doubted it was a crush, like you held. Do men in their upper fifties (Your best guess at his age…) get crushes? You also doubted that.

And why did it seem like he had twice the amount of pulse in his body. If you didn’t know anatomy, you would swear he had two hearts in his chest.

You shook your head and left silly thoughts and trying to define this experience.

Whatever it was, it began to happen fast. You would meet up between classes in his office for a quick fuck. Or if he saw you on campus he’d guide you to somewhere secluded for a kiss on your cheek and a remark about your latest diatribe in class.

You still met up every Monday for some actual tutoring on his class.

Once he took you out to park at the edge of town for a little coffee date.

He respected your work schedule and always never asked questions.

You were dearly grateful.

The term was coming to an end, and you were in the library. It was late and you covered in highlighter ink and were approaching clinical insanity. You felt a now-familiar set of hands on your shoulders.

“Burning the candle at both ends? I see.”

“Hey.” You broke out of your reverie and statistics-essay informed stupor. It might have been a tad bit louder than you intended.

“Play hooky from work this weekend. I’ve got to go to London for my other job.” First time he ever mentioned a second job. Did the university really pay it’s professors that little? You heard a few, more junior ones kvetching once. But him? He was definitely tenured.

“Another job?” You questioned.

“Yeah, I made a bad choice in the 70’s. It’s followed me around since then. Do come. I’ll do us somewhere special.” So your calculations on his age were wrong. He was maybe just a tad bit older than upper fifties…

Probably lower sixties.

“Sounds fine by me. It’s been slowing up.” You remarked.

He leaned down and kissed your cheek.

“Do ditch the energy drink. They’re ever so bad on human’s guts.”

A weird quirk. He’d always say humans or apes. As if he was above or different. Maybe it was the fact he was an old white guy.

Yeah, that was it. Old white guy brain rot.

“Meet me at that park… Friday, around three PM.” He instructed.

“Okay…”

“I’ll let you go back to your studies. I know how much you value them.” A final kiss and he faded out as quickly as he appeared.

You texted your manager and explained that you weren’t able to do the weekend shift, but definitely Thursday night. If you were to go to London, you’d proceed some mad money to spend on your own if his second job left you hostage for too long to your own devices.

And you canceled on a few regulars.

“Family issues.” Always a surefire way to get out of these things. Vague enough to not garner questions and would gain some sympathy. You hoped some other girl wouldn’t nab them, but you knew how people were. That one girl, Sophia, once stole your biggest tipper who saw you on both Friday nights and Sunday evenings because she’d do oral without a condom.

Damn that stomach flu you had that weekend.

You worked that night, slow but a big tip had materialized. Perfect.

By the time you had gotten home and napped for a few hours, you had a dilemma. Obviously you didn’t want your work knickers and robes mixing in with your real life clothes. Taint the divide you had.

You stared at your open suitcase. It was a little carry-on one. Yet the empty inside could swallow you whole. You threw in the most fancy of your basics in. It seemed the best idea. You pressed your hand to your mouth and let out a nervous scream.

Why was picking out what clothes you’d wear to probably just stay in a hotel all weekend stressful?

And were you entering kept whore territory?

Your situationship was dreadfully unlabeled.

You definitely knew he wasn’t your boyfriend. That word was horribly trite and evoked images of teens and young adults running about to dinner dates and cuddling each other on the bus. Or feeling each other up behind the seats in a cinema.

Not that you had particularly a detailed actual history with long-term or healthy relationships.

That’s life.

Did he even drive? How were you two getting to London? You just sat there on the bench after going to the park. It was nearly three.

You scratched at your eyelid, fighting the urge to tear off your lower lip with your fingernails.

Checking your phone, you didn’t see the big black Range Rover pulling up in front of you. The back passenger side door popped open, startling you a bit. “Hey you, get in. Apparently I’m very late.” You saw him in the back, a few soldiers in it with him. (They looked like soldiers. You decided they were.)

You grabbed your little carry-on suitcase and went in. An anxiety attack was bubbling up. What was his other job? You slid in and clenched your suitcase and purse between your legs.

You were going to London, so you chose a classy, sleek, small black number. You made the right choice. It was positively crowded in here.

There was a cute, disgruntled looking girl with an oversized knit scarf and some hipster glasses on in the front passenger seat.

“Hi! I’m Osgood!” She stretched back and offered you her hand. “You’re his...assistant?” She seemed confused by your general existence, but pleased you were another girl in this car of men. You couldn’t blame her! You took it and shook.

“She’s my companion.” The bastard finally labeled your situationship. Companion, very old timey. He let out of beaming smile, and continued on, “Petronella Osgood, (y/n's full name). (Y/n’s full name), Petronella Osgood. The new lead scientific advisor and assistant to the Head of UNIT!” His hand nearly swiped one of the soldier’s faces. “You’re both clever and don’t think like a normal human. You’ll be friends by Sunday night…”

If you could have balled yourself up and rolled away like a pill bug of you could.

“Do you like Costa? I’m trying to convince these people to stop by on our way home! Usually he just shows up, you know how he is with that TARDIS of his. But the Doctor said this would be best for him to do today…” She battered you with information and words.

You’d discuss this all with him further in private. Right now, you had to play a role.

“Yeah, I could go for…a Cortado.” You choked out. Coffee would help this all be absorbed a lot quicker.

She began fiddling with the vehicle’s GPS.

They all began talking about whatever techno-babble and such. It was over your head. You felt yourself getting heart burn and a migraine.

Petronella asked you something. And like a baby with dribble on it’s shirt, you said sluggishly: “What?”

“Do you think that we should do a frontal advance?”

“Maybe not?” You just started making things up on the fly. Filling it in ad-lib style!

You wanted to kill yourself.

“I mean, if… you go… from the front…all in. They’ll be…able to see you?” You heaved. “If you go from the…sides…and like, guerilla style…whatever is happening will…be a surprise …you remember like, the Germans against Rome or Boudicca, also against Rome…yeah.” You ended. You deserved a little chewing on the inside of your cheek, as a treat.

Soon enough, you pulled up to a Costa, Petronella seemed very eager to order in-shop. And to drag you in.

You collected the soldier’s and Professor Smith (Oh! Yeah, they called him Doctor…you’d demand the truth later.) Orders.

You were so eager to leave the car for a breath of fresh air.

“Hey, mind if I smoke real quick?” You had quit, but there was a lose one in the purses pocket, and the situation called for one. If ever there was a time to start smoking, it’d be now.

“I have asthma! But sure! I can wait.” She went into the weird little room that’s neither inside nor outside that commercial spaces tend to have. She got a phone call.

You could use this as an opportunity to get information about the man who you had been fucking. She’d be more helpful here. She clearly knew him better. Sure you had seen him naked. But she knew him on a more intimate level it seemed.

You finished up your cigarette and crushed it under the heel of your shoe. You got a bottle of perfume out and began dusting it on a heavy layer. You took one big inhale and rolled your neck around. It cracked and you relaxed a bit.

Entering the Costa, she hung up her phone and smiled.

You both ordered. You got yourself one of their fruit biscuits and went to get out your cash.

“Oh no! I got it! All of it.” She whipped out a black card and tapped it to the reader. “Perks of the job.”

You nodded your head. You had heard of UNIT, but couldn’t be arsed to care.

“So, the Doctor.” The name sounded foreign coming out of your mouth. “How long have you worked with him?”

“Oh! Five years now!”

You placed a hand on your throat and rested your jaw on it.

“What’s his deal?”

“Wish I knew, but we should all be glad he exists, he’s the best we got.”

Oh!

You let out a little “mmhmm.”

Before you could get your next question, the drinks and your snack came.

She grabbed her milk babyccino and handed you your Cortado as you left the Costa. You didn’t want to get back in the Range Rover. This all seemed like a very bad idea. You should have never agreed to this.

But here you were, so you had to deal with it.

You got back in the back, the solider driving said they’d have to speed along, no stops.

You shrunk in the seat. You felt his one hand stroke your upper arm. He was trying to comfort you. You wish you could recoil, but you had grown too addicted to his touch. Against all instinct, you leaned into him and sipped your coffee. Just sat an observed, chiming in when people would outright ask you for your input. More sipping your coffee and staring glumly out the front windshield. You felt like a caged beast.

Soon enough you were in London and you could get out of the car. Sadly, it pulled into an underground military-style bunker.

You were very proud of yourself for keeping your cool and now having a major breakdown in there.

You entered a lift, still carrying your suitcase.

It went all the way to the top.

Some woman in a very impressive suit and a silk scarf met you all there.

More introductions.

The Doctor – Professor Smith- whatever his real title or honorific was, took your suitcase and told someone to take it to a place. You didn’t retain or hear. You were positively swimming. You hated how good this artificial, florescent lighting made the hollows of his face looked. He was a bit more formal in his dress than he ever was at the university. In this moment you hated how you were reacting to him. Obviously he had to confess things to you.

Obviously, there was a bit of a double standard, but this outweighed your little evasions and white lies.

There was a meeting and grand plans were drawn. Choices were made.

And you had to make choices for yourself.

It was close to midnight when you finally got out of the meeting. Tomorrow apparently they’d denote a device, after it was programmed and set up during the night. Apparently that’d save the Earth.

He was swanning along like he owned the place. Everyone was reverent. His word was law and his advice was the loudest.

Maybe you shouldn’t have smoked that cigarette beforehand. Maybe you needed several shots of vodka. Maybe you just were way out of your depth.

Soon enough you had an escort of two soldiers for him and you to a suite with the bare essentials of comfort. Your stupid suitcase was there. Like a fancy barracks.

The door locked and you were alone with him.

“It’s time I tell you some truths.” He said, sitting in a chair at the desk.

You threw your hands up, “You fucking think so?” It came out as a screech. You clapped your hand to your mouth.

“What the fuck?” You clapped your hands together as you leaned over and down to face him. “What the fuck was all that?” You crouched into a squat.

“Let me tell you.” His tone was silencing. Like you were in the wrong for this reaction.

“Fine!”

“Firstly, this changes nothing about the past months. But I am an alien from a planet far away and long since gone. I am over two-thousand years old. My name, my title, is the Doctor. Well the closest translation to any Earthling's language.”

You leaned back, gesturing with your hands in the “okay” position.

“I may be a little fucking slow, I may have a few learning disabilities, but I’m not fucking stupid. Are you…aware…of how incredibly far-fetched that sounds?” Your body swaying with the position of your hands. The hands quickly moved to press into the center of your forehead.

He undid a few buttons on his shirt.

You groaned.

He grabbed at your hands and you tried to escape. He flattened the palm of one and pressed it against his chest. You felt two hearts pumping. Your little observation after the first time you hooked up on how it seemed like he had two pulses wasn’t so stupid suddenly...

“Two hearts, fawn.” He said, using his pet name for you. “I’m alien.”

Your lower lip quivered.

No wonder he felt different than any other man you’d fucked previously. His body was different. He was.

Hot tears burned at the corners of your eyes, starting to splash out. You pulled yourself free and slunk onto the closest wall.

Figures that your first big infatuation that actually seemed to value your life was a fucking ancient alien. You felt like a total freak, were you really that screwed up that the only way you’d get anything resembling a healthy relationship was with an alien!

Your head found its way between your thighs.

“Nothing changes.” He repeated.

“How many others have you done this to?” You spat out. Pure venom.

“Rarely like you.”

“Oh, so I’m just the latest and greatest girl you’ve lured into submission! How kind! I was chosen! I feel special!” You raged out. Giving a little sarcastic bow from your sat position.

He joined you against the wall. You skittered yourself away from him.

“You’re special. Trust me. I had stopped. You met me in a different way. No danger, no trauma-bonding. No Nothing. If not for duties I neglected here for too long, I would have keep you safe. Continued to be your Professor John Smith. Existed…but I couldn’t bear not seeing you for as long as this will take here. Separate. Not my traveling assistant, not anything. Just my little fawn and our perfect microcosm of the universe.” He slid forward and looked you dead in the eye.

He cocked his head, “Remember when I was talking about what the universe owed us? I figured this was my long-awaited, pleaded for reward. To have you, for as long as this little life of yours could allow this fling to last.”

He was very good with words and you could feel them echoing pure and true in your head. Something made you relax and let your guard down.

You hoped it wasn’t some alien superpower he had.

You began openly weeping. Loud, a total cacophony. You started choking on your tears and having a hard time breathing.

He wiped the tears.

You let our a hiccup. He started rubbing small circles on the middle of your back.

“I planned on seeing a West End play with you, a proper date, like a human man would take a human woman to. If you don’t want to, I can order a car and you can go back to Bristol.” He offered.

You started crying even harder.

“Can I shower first? Before I can make a choice. On anything. Even you...” You admitted, needing to revise on your end if you even wanted to be with him in any capacity anymore.

“Understandable, (y/n).” The Doctor helped you up, and gave you your suitcase. You found your toiletries bag and shuffled in. You swore you heard him mutter, “Well, don’t overthink.” But you left that be. You had enough to think about, just add that to the list.

After getting undressed, you turned the water on the hottest it could go.

You began to wash away the day…

So much to think about…so little time to do so.

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.

Teacher's Pet part 10

Synopsis: Game is preserved by game. And what games can one play? What about rewards? Our two lovers share some special moments.

A/n: Hey bitches, guess who's back from mental health crisis! Meeee. I love you all and sorry for the inconvenience and lateness!!! Slammed this one out. Quickly. Before the madness leaves me. Yall the best. Thanks

Oh, that man, you thought as you trolled the shops. Furiously as you slid the hangers across. The sound of metal slightly shrieking put you on edge. If you had been not just a post-marriage thing, but the next in a long line of so-called ‘assistants’ or ‘companions’, then you’d be the best damn one he’d ever have.

He wanted to play like he was human, play house with you. Something he never did before, he told you. There was a comfort and a ring of truth in those words. A lie? You felt yourself question. Or was he actually just telling the truth?

Maybe alien men weren’t total pigs like human men…you reasoned with yourself.

So many thoughts were swimming in your mind.

You angrily scooped up a few dresses and made your way to the changing room.

You chose a black number, slightly strappy, mid-length and a lower square neckline. You brought a little cardigan and it would match perfectly. The way the skirt flared gently but still held some grip to your thighs was excellent at providing some semblance of elegance. It hit at your knee, classy.

Now onto shoes…

You got a message from your Doctor, you headed to a café.

It was all very nice. Trite, but felt authentic. His long fingers carding through your hair felt lovely. It felt like a return to what you had back in Bristol. Your mind was calm, placid and you felt a bit better about the whole damn thing.

Like your walls were removed.

Sooner or later, you had to get ready and then the ebb of dark thoughts came back in tiny waves. You got frustrated and just started patting on a thick layer of glitter, and maybe a tad bit too much highlighter cream on.

You caught your reflection in the mirror. You looked manic. Beautiful, but oh-so-fucking-crazy. You toned down things just a tad.

Just a tad, you still wanted to be breathtaking…

You went back and leaned on the bed and caught your breath. You did your breathing exercises and collected yourself and gave one final check in the reflection of the metal of the barrack wall.

Once joining him, the nerves subsided. You mentally wondered if he had some pheromones or something like that. It felt good, though, safe.

The evening began and you went out with nary a hitch.

He took you to see some contrived show about the nature of social media and the ephemeral nature of family. (And murder!) You tried to enjoy it, you really did, but in the dark of the theatre, his face pale enough to reflect the stage light and the fact you could feel an electric current running through the two of you as you leaned in or lightly touched, your mind went slightly south.

The man was too attractive for your own good. And your lack of attention span was driving you to look at his face most of the time.

Thankfully, the play ended.

Performers came out to bow, lights went up and you were ushered out.

He even treated you to a bit of a romantic dinner. Although, he did grumble about there not being a children’s menu.

Almost very human.

You let your entire guard down.

It was impossible to not.

This entire day was disarming. More disarming than yesterday!

Your conflicted feelings fell away more and more. Outside of little trips to London for this whole UNIT thing, you could go back to Bristol. Go back to being (y/n) and Professor Smith. Build something real. Build something tangible.

You loaded yourselves into a cab back to the UNIT head quarters. His hands were also distractions. They felt so cruelly good inside or on you. They were also emotive and caring. Creatures in their own rights.

Suddenly, you felt very brave and extra insane.

You wanted them inside you in this very cab. And damn it! You were going to get your way!

You grabbed one of his hands and placed it on your right thigh, and leaned in to his ear, your other hand lightly toying with his hair.

“Fuck me with your fingers. Here, now.” You whispered, your voice going slightly husky.

He looked at you, a severe look passed and faded before he let out a slight laugh. Soft, but with a hint of something behind it.

“Now, my fawn?” Slightly shocked, but a Cheshire grin came out.

“Right now.” You ordered gently, the whisper came out a more a huff of air than a spoken set of words.

“One moment.” He said, reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket. He grabbed something and pressed a button on it. It let a little noise.

“What is that?”

“Screwdriver, it’ll give us privacy. More or less.”

You nodded, a slightly slack-jawed, “Ah.” Escaped your mouth. “Some screwdriver.”

“You don’t even understand the half of it.” He said, as he leaned in to kiss your jaw and placed on hand at the hollow of your throat.

When he finally worked his way to your pussy, he slid with a finger your panties over.

“Already so soaked? Good girl…” He cheesed.

It made your head roll back. In your moment of ballsy control, he somehow made himself the one in charge. A mental flip over…

And you didn’t particularly mind.

Damn him.

You felt that deft long middle finger find your clit. His index and ring finger found themselves in the middle of your folds. You rolled your hips over and your legs parted a little bit more against the fabric of your dress. The circular motions of the finger on your clit driving you a little bit crazy…

You braced yourself against the seat of the cab.

He scooped his fingers down deep into you, pressing deep onto the walls. He kissed you and bit gently at your chin.

You moaned into the top of his mouth.

His long hands had the benefit of him being able to continue his motions on your clit and he stroked the lowest part of your pussy with his pinky finger.

The other three worked you senseless.

“You’re so filthy.” He praised you. The ‘r’ in ‘you’re’ drilled inwards.

Your stomach fluttered and flipped around.

You let out a grunting heave. Your hands firmly around his body and gripping the back of the seat. He worked his way against your walls more. Penetrating deeper, still.

Unfortunately for you, the big stupid tower that UNIT had was approaching in the foreground.

He grazed your chest with his teeth and pulled out of you. He took out the screwdriver and it made that noise again.

He paid the driver and pulled you out.

“Now, you be good and quiet through the hallways and I’ll give you what you want.” He ordered you.

You nearly flailed out.

There were still staff and soldiers milling about, as you went towards the lift, some even approached him with questions.

You were still wet and dreadfully turned-on! And twitchy. It seemed painfully unfair, he wound you up just enough to make you literally insane!

You needed him to fuck you.

You could literally feel the absence of his fingers inside you. Like a gaping wound.

Cruel.

The seconds dragged on for what seemed like years. These underlings of his really could drag themselves on! It was wholly unfair. The several Cocktails with St Germaine and Vodka and the level of lust hazing your vision and your orders to be quiet. You wanted to beg him to finish fucking you.

Soon enough you were in the stupid barracks.

“Strip.” He ordered plainly, unbuckling his pants and pulling down his pants and his underwear. His cock already standing at full attention.

You shimmied out of your dress and underwear.

“Kneel.”

You kneeled.

“You’ll get my hands in you if you do good here. I know you will.” His tone was somewhere between an order and a negotiable thoughtfulness. With a tad bit of praise wrapped in.

You really needed him to get you off. It was up there in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. ‘Get the Doctor’s fingers inside of you.’

So you obeyed.

You scooted forward and wrapped your hands around his ass and opened your mouth. You cracked your neck and inhaled. You pressed your tongue down on over your lower teeth and wrapped your upper lip over your top teeth. You slicked your tongue out just a bit more as you worked your way down his shaft.

He stabilized himself in your hair and the base of your neck, guiding you down deeper. He was fully inside your mouth. Gently, but still, he helped you go up and down as you continued to go down on him. A symbiotic, well-oiled machine. He guided you down and you licked and applied pressure.

All while you were still aching. All the need for him intensifying as you just kept clenching your thighs together. As if that’d stop the sensation of want…

This little trade-off was driving you mad!

You licked his entire shaft, swirling your tongue as you both continued the motions. Edging him with the hot breath coming out onto his tip, you clasped a tighter grip on his ass. You slipped down and went to purse your lips around the base…

He pulled himself out of your mouth.

“I’m going to finger you, as you want. Then…’ He said, pulling you up and shoving you onto the bed, flourishing his fingers…”I want to cum inside your mouth later.”

He pushed apart your legs and gave a deep lick to your cunt. Hard, quick, and lingering around.

He was insane! This was the most aggressive he’d ever been with you sexually. He braced himself on the bed frame and peered deep into your eyes as he maneuvered his other arm, and hand, down inside of you. You let out a giant tremble as he lay over you, dragging out the heavy petting and large sweeps inside you.

You gulped.

He somehow managed to get a few fingers inside you, probably because you were so soaked, and you were so nervous and eager to please. Or he was rather good with his fingers.

He played guitar.

Maybe that was why…

Your mind wandered gently away and you wanted to ask him to play for you…

You were so close. The waiting in the halls and him making you service him, really was a dangerous cocktail. A torture device, well fit for whatever this paramilitary organization had in their arsenals…

And here he was, fingers engulfed in your wet heat.

Suddenly you felt a shattering static, and the intoxicating waves of an orgasm and alcohol teamed up against you. You swore you could feel your vision somewhat fading around the edges. You felt rapidly breathless and were slow-blinking away from your orgasm waving through you.

The old man pulled his way up and gently pulled you down. You met halfway between the two.

“Open wide, sweetheart.” He cooed as he gripped his cock, jerking it. “Get that sharp tongue out. Don’t be shy, fawn.” It came out a velvet-wrapped order.

And yet again, you obeyed his orders to the mark!

Warm and salty, he came onto your tongue and tapped himself dry on your tongue.

You never liked the taste of cum, but you swallowed it, you figured that alien cum wasn’t as bad as human cum.

You tried to not gag…

He saw you balking at the taste and pet your hair.

“So good for me…you’re perfect, aren’t you?”

You nodded your head in affirmation.

He leaned down and kissed your forehead.

After a moment or two in just a lock up, you decided to shower. He joined you, simple, clean fun. Oddly sexless.

The morning came and you woke without a startle for the first time in what felt like your entire life. His one arm was wrapped around you, the feeling of his odd, two-hearted beating thrumming along. Like a white noise machine. His chest was pressed in earnest against your back.

It was the first time you’ve slept with a man, like truly, in the most simple description in years. It felt wonderful.

You didn’t know what time it was, your phone was still in your purse and the room lacked a clock, as far as you could tell. It was also windowless.

You managed to wriggle your way out to go to the bathroom and checked. It was half-eleven. He began to stir.

“Hey, go back to sleep.” You walked over and swooped a bit of his hair to the side. “I’ll go for a quick walk, I’ll be soon.” He rolled over and nodded.

You went out to check your phone, go outside and have a smoke, and prowl about. The hallways were milling with people and soldiers, busy.

You exited and lit up, Petronella was approaching the entrance.

“Hey, I know the perfect place for a brunch.” She exclaimed, clearly happy about the chance encounter.

You quickly dropped your cigarette and exhaled away from her face, remembering her asthma.

After a quick exchange you made your way back up to the barrack. He was fiddling around with some device. You’d like to think he changed his focus the minute he noticed that you entered, but it was a few seconds and he kept running his fingers and a real screwdriver on some screws as he went to look at you.

“So I was thinking that you and I could go to brunch.” You launched the idea. “Could be fun. Way better than a trip to Starbucks.” You added on.

“I could eat.” He announced.

The process to get you both out the door was a bit tough. As you kept find yourselves simply unable to keep your hands to yourselves. He was incorrigible!

But you did it anyway.

It was nice, Petronella came in clutch for you. It wasn’t a place catering to the yummy mummy crowd, nor the drunk hipster crowd. Very cozy. The seats were lush and you got a cozy, semi-cramped corner booth. All coiled up together…

You downed your first Bellini and your dishes were coming out.

You kept yourself from blurting out something.

The second Bellini pried it out.

“So tell me about these past companions…” You finally dropped as you sopped up a bit of oil with a piece of bread, you didn’t need to be completely sloshed yet.

He let out of derisive snort.

“I ran away with my granddaughter from my home planet. She encouraged me to pick up traveling companions when she married an Earthling. It’s been a cycle ever since. Although. I did give up after the last one. Especially after all my memories of her returned…no more companions. No more travel. Rehabilitate my ex-partner from my school days until she’s sane and no longer wants to take over the cosmos and kill off anyone. Catch and release. Teach on Earth until the planet meets it’s fire-y end.” He explained it all so nonchalantly. Boiled down. Reductive.

You nodded along and took a sip of his coffee.

“Never expected you, but, you’re my jealous little secret.” A dark, yet warm grim blazed across his face.

“And….how many….have you slept with?” You circled your pinky around the top of his glass.

“A few, rarely. I’m rather…adverse to sexuality usually. Sometimes it’s the right body and right time. Last one was this woman named Clara, we rubbed off on each other so poorly. She became too like me and I her, she died and I lost my mind, finally in the position I’ve left so many in. Four point five billion years inside of a hell of my creation to try to save her. In the end, my memory was wiped. It was brought back thanks to the ex-partner. You should meet her. One day. Missy is…Missy.” It seemed like his honesty had some subversion but still rang true.

“It’s a huge catalyst for why I’m retired from my endeavors. I’ll help UNIT out, but I need to find some peace. I’m an old man. I deserve a bit of rest.”

“Four point five billion years old.” You nodded, eyes bugged out of your head. “How’d that even work?”

“Oh, my ship is a time machine. She’s the big thing that’s covered in cloth in my office near my windows. She’s a Type-40 TARDIS. But because Clara rejected her resurrection, so to speak, the years snapped back. I’m only two thousand, as I said the other night!”

And here you were feeling slightly insane over thinking him in his sixties previously in the last week…

You scooped your hair put of your own face.

“Can’t fault you for wanting a break. I’m exhausted and I’m virtually just starting out in life. Can’t imagine living that long…” You gave a long hard stare into the distance…

You definitely couldn’t fault him there, having lovers. Or being too jealous. He was so...old…there was no way around it.

You especially couldn’t be worked up over his body count. You probably matched each other in some ways.

That was a lot of unpacking and decentering you had to do.

Your learning was never really done.

After all, you stop learning, you stop living…

“Any more inquiries?” He seemed to be jokingly prodding.

“Just don’t take me…off planet or back in time. Especially back in time.” You pointed to your face as if it were the obvious reason why that wouldn’t work.

“I never intend to.” He promised.

“Good.”

You finished up and made you way out, you took a walk around a park for a while, arms joined together.

It was nice. Like something in your life had finally clicked into place. Safety, potentially love, awareness…all that trite shit.

You couldn’t shake some feelings nor the sensation in your brain that something may be up.

But that was for future (y/n) to deal with. Today was just about relaxing with your man. Being normal. Finally getting something normal.

Maybe you both were being rewarded here.

Teacher's Pet part 1

Synopsis: The Doctor notices a student. She notices him.

a/n: thank u to the moots for sticking with me. Yall are the best. This is going to be a series. Somewhat of a dark!doctor ish fic maybe. I haven't planned this far. I have ideas. Will switch between a 3rd party but doctor centric POV and a 2nd party student centric POV.

The sun drew itself in on the cold day, light filtering through large windows in the lecture hall. It caught and reflected the motes of light swirling around. First day of the Spring term. Lots of new students trickled in and found their respective seats. Of course, the syllabus was now online and such. But the Doctor still preferred to give a paper one. He felt it helped students focus if they had it real and tangible…unable to forget.

Just like he forgot so much. A lingering pain….

He started up his usual dazzling spiel. Enough to keep them from dropping out, but not enough to rile them to madness. He learned that lesson early on in this particular charade he was distracting himself with. All he had to really do was keep Missy in the Vault and attempt to rehabilitate her. Humans were such a delicate group to keep balanced. Too much stimulation and they would self destruct. Not enough? The same but in a reverse spiral.

Or just fall asleep.

He preferred it if a few actually did fall asleep.

Allowed him to build a reputation as a teacher. Keep the act up.

He didn’t notice the young woman intently staring, writing down the key phrases from his opening statements. He was enraptured in the normal routine he has become familiar with.

The hour came to a close, and he did a bow. He was to visit Missy again some time soon. Just a cursory check. See if she’d calmed down from her last temper tantrum, where she demanded a saxophone and stated that Billy Clinton was also a war criminal, but made some sweet jazz.

He could hardly agree. She already was a mediocre piano player. And the drum set she demanded earlier lay in tatters in her cupboard.

Being her keeper and therapist was rotten work, but it warmed him. Gave him a gram of hope that she may get better and he may have his friend back once more.

Though, he knew in both is hearts, hope could be a fragile thing for a man to hold onto.

But, especially in this body, he believed in redemption and change. They both had forever to change. They had forever.

A few weeks had passed, and he noticed that keen eyes were burning the back of his neck as he scrawled on the chalkboard. It felt different than the usual glazed-over focus of people trying to write or type out his valid points. It was hot and felt more personal. Less trying to pass a class.

He paused his sentence and raked his eyes over. It was a student with large gold hoops and a few tangled gold necklaces. The Doctor recognized two or three of the symbols used on some of them from his travels through Earth’s history. She was chewing hard on her pen. He could see flecks of her tinted chap stick clinging onto the sides of it. Her eyes were squinted slightly and a slight patch of blush rested on her checks. He couldn’t tell if it was a make up look or some feverish feature of her human body. Perhaps she was in the first phases of getting sick!

He went back to his lecture. Some misfocused student was the least of his concern.

But he still felt her eyes bore into him. Intent on something. He trudged on.

He came to a close, reminded everyone of their upcoming projects and let the day start to rest. The Doctor announced that his office hours were changing to represent the spring coming soon and to “Allow you all to feel the sun on your faces, you don’t know how long you’ll have. Humans usually only live once!”

He scanned the audience and saw her shoving her notebook and that well-gnawed on pen into her bag. Big purse with a rhinestone buckle. Resembled something that Rose or Jackie would have had, he mused.

She slung that and a tote bag that seemed overstuffed and ripe for the breaking over her shoulder. She audibly groaned under the weight. He pitied her. The stressed look she had on her face was oddly enchanting in the light just starting to sink.

He knew she was struggling in the class. She did good work, yes. When he opened up questions and debate, she usually had such pointed takes that verged on mind-racing. Sometimes others would bristle against what she said on the more provocative topics he offered up. Essays and tests? Not so much. She floundered.

She had accommodations for some diagnosis or whatever. He could tell her mind was making connections in a far more tangential way than the other’s either couldn’t or wouldn’t make. And for that he did like her. Enjoyed what she brought to the table. Although, even his brains had difficulty making some of the leaps her brain did.

But why was she staring at him like that today? It was almost reverent. Very off putting.

She came forward to his desk and clicked open her notes app .

“Erm…Professor.” She cleared her throat and started up. “Uh, I was wondering if I could see you sooner rather than later. For office hours. I’m sorry for my late essay last week. I don’t know what’s going on with me. I can’t focus and I feel like I’m losing my mind half the time lately. May I have some insight or whatever you want on how I could do better. I know I’m doing…like, so bad.” She confessed and exhaled on the final note of her punctuation.

She turned a new type of stare towards him. Less intense and personal and more of a thousand-yard death grip.

Her entire demeanor in this moment was very lamb like. A confused air of innocent need to do well, to pass her classes, clouded her.

A weaker man would have felt more predatory, he noted.

She wasn’t unattractive for a human, not like past companions he worshiped the ground of. Of course. He was drawn to them for their natures, often ignoring their faces wholesale.

She started to chew and rip at her pinky nail and lower lip simultaneously…

“Of course,” He said. “I have to go help a friend with something, so I have to talk and walk.”

She nodded eagerly and gave such an appreciative smile. “Thanks!” The words came out so quickly, almost breathlessly.

She trotted along side him.

Once outside, they started discussing her options. She had to work nights, she stated, she said so they were arranging a time to work in a little extra help and tutoring.

He genuinely enjoyed her company and led her to a bench.

“What about your friend?” She asked.

“Oh, Nardole can handle himself.” He smiled. “He’ll not miss me for an extra four or five minutes.”

She laughed a bit.

She plunged her hand into her purse and started rifling around. It was a chaotic sight.

She produced a pack of cigarettes and a tiny green plastic lighter.

“Do you mind? I’m trying to quit, but it’s been hell lately.” She grimaced.

He shook his head, no, he didn’t mind. It wouldn’t affect him. Her, yes. But one little luxury, especially if she was trying to quit.

“So long as it’s your last for a while.” He took the teacherly route.

She lit up and took a huge drag. Closing her eyes he noticed that deep look of exhaustion had given her dark purple and almost black under eye circles. She had apparently tried to cover them up with some make up products and some mascara and smudged eyeliner. She held that breath in for a few seconds. It was almost beautiful.

She exhaled and fluttered them open. The smoke wisped and flew away quickly in the gentle breeze.

“Yeah, thanks. People get so weird about smoking. But they’ll vape? Like, indoors. All the time.” She rolled her eyes at that mildly hypocrisy.

They planned for her to meet up with him in his office on Monday just before the lunch hour. Then turned the conversation to some topics in debate that another student, a male who irked her with his constant urge to play Devil’s Advocate. She had some very often-overlooked viewpoints and a very bizarre way of describing things. It was enchanting.

“Thanks.” She ignored a boundary and squeezed his hand. He felt a holy jolt of electricity go up his arm from the small touch. “I gotta go…you’ve got a friend. Works been slow and I have some…appointments. So I have to make sure I’m perfect.” She elaborated with an almost tic-like shake of her head.

“Yes, my friend is probably going insane dealing with our little issue.” He responded in kind. Missy had probably caused Nardole to melt down or malfunction.

He watched her leave towards the bus stop. Her bags hitting her back as she rushed. Her coat barely covering her bottom and the belt caught in the hem of it. He felt himself feeling almost physically unable to leave the bench. Something tugging at his gut was preventing him from doing so. It felt akin to what River and Clara evoked in him but different.

River and Clara were strong and capable, avant-garde. Self-confident. Cocky. But this student was seemingly the inverse. Very vulnerable and nervous to the point of a near imperceptible, even to him with his keen Time Lord senses, shake and a heart that was audibly racing in its cage. Coupled with her addiction to cigarettes and minor tendency towards self mutilation via near-constant picking and chewing…

Something dark, but heartwarming rushed through his core and took root.

He felt himself deeply looking forward to Monday.

Teacher's Pet part 12

Synopsis: Reader meets Missy. It's a mixed bag.

A/n: sorry for another delay. Hope you enjoy. More doctor fuckery and allusions to the doctors current devolution. Yay I hope you enjoy yayyy.

What were these truths the Doctor was talking about? At least he was being honest! A damn shame to your overloaded brain, but you appreciated it nonetheless. Maybe you would bring yourself to honestly about your profession after. Maybe. You’d have to test the waters and go off what tonight’s surprise was.

Your heart slammed itself into it's cage.

The next few hours were hell on Earth. What was this secret he was going to reveal?

You always dealt with waiting so poorly…

You got through your final tutoring via the university without nary a hiccup, but your brain combed through all the possibilities you could scrounge from sci-fi shows. What was that one nearly-sixty years old program that the BBC had?

Too late now…

You did sneak home to change into something that didn’t scream ‘lazy’.

Soon it was nearly nine. As you walked to his office, you felt like you were at a wall, breathing your last free breaths before the firing squad came upon you. You worked on your breathing exercises as you went to knock the door.

He was there, illuminated softy. Grey hair fluffed, in a burgundy shirt and hoodie. He looked utterly (and unfairly!) Breath-taking. You felt both underdressed and overdressed.

“Good evening!” He smiled, it was one of those easy, unnerving, comfortable smiles that framed his eyes so well.

“Hey.” Was the best you could muster. Your vocabulary stolen from your tongue as easily as the breath from your lungs over him…

How could someone who was quite literally older than the rededication of the Second Temple look so good?

Alien magic, must be.

“You remember that Missy character?”

“Yeah, her? Them?” You struggled.

“Her.”

“Ah.”

“She’s been on her best behavior. Stunning, really.”

“And?”

“I think you two need to meet. I’ve cleared the idea with her other…Guardian.”

“Oh?”

“Nardole…he’s an egg. I sent him to Norwich for a packet of crisps.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” It didn’t.

You rubbed your lip together in a partial move to rip the skin off, but also to provide some sort of outlet for the nervousness that was still coming up from the pit of your stomach.

What was Missy?

He offered the crook of his arm, “Shall we go?”

You took it.

The walk was nice, silent. The weather was warming up nicely. Mild night.

Soon you went to a place obscured in some hardly-looked after corner in the university’s basement. He pressed some hidden point and the wall snapped in two, revealing some contraption. He unhooked himself from you and started entering codes, some little monitor popped up and scanned his eye.

It asked for a verbal confirmation.

He spoke in some language that made your blood run cold and you feel small. Something about it was haunting. Like singing.

It unveiled another wall with a turn-lock, from which he produced a key and unlocked it.

Finally, it seemed safe to part through.

“What did she do?” You asked, voice husky with fear.

“Enough.” He let a little snort escape.

You nodded and went in.

It was a grand room, a couple of old, antique chairs and some meager side tables faced what was a mighty cage! It looked like glass, on the platform. Inside this guided cage was a woman, in simple Victorian clothes.

She played piano very gently.

“Missy.” The Doctor seemingly pleaded.

The woman inside slammed the lid shut and turned around.

She had the most insane, yet oddly lovely smile. Cat-like.

She was thin.

“Oh…you’ve brought me a plaything?” She grinned.

Her accent sounded Scottish. Like the Doctor.

“Do all aliens sound like Scotsmen?” You blurted out before you could monitor your thoughts.

“I’m sorry!” You amended.

She laughed, it sounded like bells.

“One would certainly hope so!” She responded.

“I’m Missy! Short for Mistress!”

“Oh, I’m (y/n).”

She shot the Doctor some look. He shot her another look. It seemed they were having an entire conversation without you. You felt alienated. You looked between them.

“I’ve heard nothing but good. Typical!” She approached you at the edge of her enclosure. You felt caged. Missy stalked you as if she were a lioness and you were some disabled, freshly birthed gazelle. You started sweating, it dewed down your back.

“Oh!”

“My best enemy.” He elaborated.

You nodded more, at a total loss for words. Your breathing became manual.

“So what did you do?”

“Oh, this girlie is rude! I love it!” She shot the Doctor another look.

“Don’t talk behind my back?” You assumed.

Missy nearly fell over! She started laughing, “Rude and clever! He’s certainly taught you well.”

Your eyes could have shot out of their sockets.

“You’re like Jedi, yeah? Can communicate with your brains?” You explained.

“Sure enough? Jedi are the Lego ones?” the Doctor asked.

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy her.” Missy predated you more. Nose pressed against her enclosure.

You got the briefest of synopsis of their entire relationship. You felt yourself blinking from your brain overloading. It felt like someone dumped out your mind and shook the contents up before tossing it all back in, haphazardly.

You swallowed heavily.

“So Time Lords. Do you all have such…intense names? Mistress, Doctor? So is there a Bachelor?” You felt your arms move as if to elaborate this point.

“Different generations have different naming convention. My brother is Irving Braxiatel.”

“Of course. Makes sense. My name’s (y/n) but now all the kids are McKinsleigh or Harley or whatever.”

“Exactly.”

“Oh, my dear Doctor, you have a smart one on your hands. Now how do you like the stars, kiddo?”

You shook your head quickly. “Nope, no stars for me. I’m not going up there. Nope. I know what happens! I’m genre aware. I know what goes down in space. And if you’ve had a lot of dead companions previously…not me. I am not that suicidal!” You felt like a horizontal bobble head of sorts.

“See!” She slapped her thigh. “This one’s got common sense! She’s not going to swan off and get herself killed by a giant bird!”

It seemingly touched a tender point.

“Oh, here you go, bringing up Clara! What’s with you?” He seemed on the verge of spitting. “We’re having such a normal time!”

“Oh, she was my manic pixie dream bitch too!” Missy countered, looking like the cat that swallowed the canary.

You made several notes to bring up later when you were going to bring up some new ground rules for this relationship, if this Missy didn’t tear you to shreds and eat your entrails like a tin of tuna.

The cat metaphors kept coming…

Were Time Lords cats?

No! Cats have barbed penises and that Time Lord you were fond of didn’t…

“May I get a tuba now?” Missy pleaded.

“We’ll see.”

You found yourself fiddling with your necklaces in a very rapid way with one hand. The other twisting the massive gold hoop in your one ear. Nervous habits coming in strong to help you self-soothe in this inopportune moment…

Somewhere the Doctor produced a flask of tea and poured some out, it was herbal. At the moment you couldn’t discern much more than that.

He gave it to all, including Missy, who’s barrier seemed penetrable to him, but not her. As she touched it and it repelled her.

Where did he pull out all these things?

What was the barrier made of? Did it work on genes?

Your mind roared for an explanation.

You reminded yourself to take it in strive. You weren’t working with logic and sanity anymore. You were in some contrived sci-fi story now.

It was the only way that you’d survive this!

Missy asked you something pleasantries involving your studies, and you divulged your grand plans.

“Oh, not overly ambitious. No martyr complex. Doctor this one may survive you.” Her focus splintered.

You felt out of your depth even more. You were taking it in stride, but that felt like it was lacking. Although…an opportunity did arise.

Did you have the guts to take it?

You pondered on. If it did turn nasty, you were outnumbered. Two of these so called ’Time Lords’. One you. One very mortal and squishy you.

Missy seemed to know far more than she probably should. You craved a bit more knowledge.

Shouldn’t you be privy to details about the man you’ve been not only fucking, but falling madly under his spell? And dare you utter it- loved?

“So what’s the deal with you Time Lords?” You asked Missy.

“An ancient race. We’re the pinnacle of evolution. Very few races will or ever will get close. Some have tried, they fail to become as optimized.”

“A bit eugenics-y.” You responded, your brows knitted together.

“Funny collars.” The Doctor chimed in. “That’s the opposite of optimized.”

“Oh, Mister President! How salacious!” She cooed in his general direction.

“President?” Your eyes boggled from their sockets.

“Technically. I’m also the De Facto President of Earth in an emergency. Neither here nor there…”

“And he’s ever so humble! My dear, Doctor. If this were two bodies ago you’d be preening!”

You looked down and blinked hard, as you started to chew on the inside of your cheek.

“Oh, him? Yeah, I was a but more vain. I mean, how could I not? All youth and fire and forged from Rose’s love.”

“And who the hell is Rose?” Your jealousy creeping back in.

“Oh, Doctor! You dog! She was very blonde! Broke many universes trying to find him again!” Missy gaped, as if she had personally sprung this trap.

“She helped me. I was raw from the War. She saw my hearts and that’s all.” The explanation was clearly him trying to not irk any jealousy in you.

“She got a wee clone! They’re in a parallel universe!” Missy simmered up, swinging around on her ankles.

“You are annoying.”

“You could have let Torvic kill me!” She put her hands on her hips and pulled a sour face.

“I’m sorry, who’s Torvic?” You were being bombarded with more information than you could handle.

“I was a soft lad. This kid kept bullying me. He was going to kill me, but here does come ikkle little Doctor with a rock! Bye bye Torvic!” She announced it like she was a wrestling presenter.

“How old were…you all?”

“Ten!” Missy clapped her hands together.

“Death’s champion!” She elaborated with a sick glee, pointing at the Doctor.

“I’m assuming you can…change sexes.” You kept piecing it together. “Were you ever a woman?”

“Maybe next go!” The Doctor said.

You leaned down and rested your fingers on your jaw as if to keep it from falling off onto the ground.

“So…how does that all work?”

“Two hearts, they prevent death and kick in our ancient rights!” Missy flourished.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.” The Doctor stepped in. “We get a new face, new body. New chances. We keep our core. But everything from our personality to our kidneys.”

You inhaled.

“Anything else I need to know…assuming that you do that in front of me.” You curbed your attention to the Doctor. You wanted answers and you didn’t want him to give up this particular body. You didn’t want to play this particular game of Russian Roulette. His body right now was perfect…from his hair to his toes. Like it was personally designed to drive you mad. A sexy, silver fox with dynamic light eyes and a smile that robbed you of the ability to breathe, plus that voice like was a good motorcycle engine. And, a perfect package that hit right in the right spots…

You were objectifying an immortal alien.

What had your life become?

“That shit’s…crazy.” You gave an exceedingly reductive statement.

“No promises, but I’ll try.” He gave you a small, reassuring smile…

“Before precious Rose, there was his wife, that Scottish lad, that journalist Sarah Jane Smith, me, that ginger twink who’s name escapes me and probably a few I’m forgetting! And after there was-” Missy smiled a positively evil grin.

You put your hand up and stopped her from going into any more detail.

“Sarah Jane Smith? The mega-journo who always had the hottest stories? The one who was always leaking the top bylines?” You instinctively tore off your thumb nail.

You kept putting your hands up and down. Going to point a finger. You felt like a malfunctioning kettle.

“W-w-what? Do you…see in me?” You raised both of your hands up as you shrugged and struggled. “Universe traveling blondes? Award-winning journalists? A ginger twink? This jailbird?” You voice scaling up octaves to those only dogs could hear as you slapped your hands over your thighs and grasped them tightly…

You started those dratted breathing exercises and placed your right hand on your only heart.

The Doctor seemed to be sorting through some sort of dilemma in his mind.

“Yeah, tell her!” Missy cheered.

You shot her a murderous glare.

She scrunched her nose and stuck out her tongue.

“I see you as warmth. You are yourself. I see you as someone who’s good. Despite it all. A good student and a great partner. Someone to enjoy while I can. Nothing to complicate or drag into danger.”

Something about these words and his gaze into you had you fighting these words, but becoming placated by them. They were like a cozy quilt on your worries…

“I’ve put others I loved in danger. Learned those lessons. Never again.”

You felt your mind slowing down from the anger and self-doubt.

It felt like truthfulness. You’d take truthfulness.

The looks that Missy and the Doctor passed between each other has you shiver in fear.

You felt like you needed to vomit.

“Can I go home now?” You squeaked out once you felt a but more emotionally regulated.

“Of course.” He helped you up and turned to Missy, “No tuba.” He told her.

She raged on a bit as you felt yourself being tucked into his side and escorted out.

You leaned against a wall as he locked the Vault up.

He folded you under his arm.

“So what do you think of my best enemy?”

You felt yourself feeling suddenly very sleepy and like you had been dreaming. You were very conflicted and of many minds. You would have to work through all this later. There was just so much information and new thoughts that needed evaluated. Though you felt something holding you back from it. The emotional toll of the past few days, inevitably catching up to you.

What was that something was holding you back?

Probably your love of the Doctor.

You felt yourself crying.

“Why don’t I walk you to your flat? What’s the address?” He wiped your face with some old-fashioned looking hankie.

You gave him your address. It was a longer walk, but maybe it would do you good.

You started to walk. It was going somewhat smoothly.

After a silent walk, you stated as you got closer to the safety of your home. “I think she’s insane. Probably it’s for the best she’s in that…situation. Like sectioning, but worse? She could be fun, if she tried. I feel…yeah. I mean, if you’re a package deal. A bit weird she’s your ex. But yeah.” You answered his previous question.

“Is she a threat? To me?” You asked, jealously.

“No, we’re finished. Ancient news far older than your civilization…”

“Ah, okay.” You felt more satisfied.

“She is quite…pretty.” You remarked.

“Hadn’t noticed.”

You nodded, as you arrived to the front door.

“This is me.” You pointed. “You…want to come up? Get a night cap. I know I’m going to need it.” You joked, as you used your pinky nail to scratch the bridge of your nose.

“Not tonight. How about after you finish exams? I still have to some things done in that regards.”

“Valid.”

He leaned down and pressed hip lips to your forehead.

“Good-night, (y/n).” He smiled as he closed his hand over yours and gave it a squeeze.

“Good-night, Doctor.” It still felt strange to not call him ‘Professor’. You didn’t know how to feel. Calling him ‘Professor’ felt better coming off your tongue.

So much to over-analyze.

You opened the door and went up to your flat. After pouring yourself a large shot of vodka to take, you laid on your favorite chair and zoned out.

So much for a normal, nice time at university!