𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐮𝐬
𝟐𝟏𝟒𝟓

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 —

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬. 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥. 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐝. 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞—𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.

𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐝?

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝. 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐚 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.

𝐀 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬. 𝐀 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬. 𝐀 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.

𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬. 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧...

𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠?

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The wind rushed past us, tugging at my mane as I skidded to a halt, hooves digging into the soft earth beneath us. I had given the Doctor more than his five minutes, because—despite all my complaints—I couldn't find it in me to stop his unrestrained joy. He had laughed the entire way, arms tight around my neck, shouting and whooping with the kind of reckless abandon only he could get away with.

Now, atop this lonely hill, overlooking the world below, he finally fell silent.

Romulus was bathed in the soft glow of dusk, a breathtaking canvas of color that stretched endlessly across the sky. Shades of pink melted into gold, bleeding into deep oranges and haunting purples. Wisps of silver clouds curled through the heavens like delicate strokes of a painter's brush, their edges kissed by the fading light. The mountains stood tall in the distance, shrouded in a mist that clung to their peaks like ghosts refusing to let go.

Below, the forests rolled on, their dark silhouettes rippling beneath the sky's ever-changing hues. Tiny towns flickered with the first signs of life settling in for the night—golden lamplight glowing softly through windows, curling chimney smoke disappearing into the twilight.

It was unreal. A dreamscape.

And so much—so realistically like Middle-Earth. It was like I was standing in a Lord of the Rings movie.

I felt the Doctor shift on my back, finally slipping off with ease. I barely had time to brace myself before he was at my front, standing before me with a grin that was far too smug for someone who had just begged for a pony ride. His hands found my snout, stroking gently, fingertips trailing over the soft fur between my eyes. His expression softened, something fond and deep flickering behind his gaze.

My stomach twisted in a way I did not like.

I snorted, voice low and warning. "Doctor..."

He chuckled, the sound warm, like he had expected my impatience. "Yes, yes, I know, dearest."

From the depths of his pocket, he pulled the vial, its shimmering blue liquid catching the last rays of Romulus's sun. Before I could protest, he popped the cork and, with absolutely no grace, poured it over my head.

It dripped through my mane, cool against my skin, and for a moment—nothing. Then everything at once.

A shudder tore through me, every nerve in my body alight as it unraveled itself. My legs trembled, something inside twisting and realigning as if every particle of my being was reassembling itself in fast-forward. My head spun, a brief but overwhelming vertigo sending my balance teetering, but just as quickly as it had started, it was over.

I gasped, breath coming hard and fast, hand flying to my chest. My hand. My human, five-fingered, no-hoof-in-sight hand.

Thank fuck. And thank fuck for being bi-pedal once again.

The Doctor's hands steadied me, his grip firm but careful, fingers curled just above my elbows. I blinked up at him owlishly, my heart still racing.

I was back.

The realization hit me all at once. My clothes were in place, my limbs felt right again, and somehow, the makeup was still on my face as well—very surprising.

I wrinkled my nose, reaching up to my hair and plucking out a leaf. And then another. And then an entire twig.

The Doctor, of course, laughed. A quiet, amused chuckle that only grew as he reached out, helping me pick out the bits of nature tangled in my hair. His fingers skimmed the strands with a gentleness that made something in my chest squeeze, his eyes watching me in that way that felt too much, too knowing.

I grumbled, trying to ignore the heat rising to my cheeks. "What?"

The Doctor tilted his head, all false innocence. "What do you mean?"

I raised a brow.

His grin widened, his voice dropping to something teasing, something almost playful in its honesty. "Am I not allowed to bask in your beauty?"

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Even though I'm no longer a majestic creature, as you so eloquently put it earlier?"

He smirked. "You are always a majestic creature."

I quirked an unimpressed brow.

The Doctor cleared his throat, suddenly flustered, ears tinged red. "Yeah, that didn't sound as smooth or romantic out loud as it did in my head, did it?"

I laughed loudly, this loser, and before I could second-guess myself, I reached forward, catching his hands in mine.

Slowly, I laced our fingers together, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. I didn't look at him—not at first. Instead, my gaze lifted to the sky, to the endless stretch of colors washing over the land.

The Doctor followed my gaze.

We stood, hands clasped, bodies close enough that I could hear his breathing—slow and steady, syncing with mine as we took in the view together. The world felt still, like for one quiet, fleeting moment, it had stopped turning just for us.

Just him and me.

It must've looked ridiculous in a way. To see what to the blind eye should appear as nothing more than a man and a woman. A mismatched pair at that. The Doctor, tall and lanky, a shank of bones and floppy hair. But with an ever so handsome face.

Here he stood. All tweed and bow ties and oddities. And here I stood next to him, all Star Wars-like and peculiar.

We didn't look like we fit, not in the traditional Earth sense. But then again, neither of us were from Earth. For me, I'm not from the Earth of this universe, at least.

Yet, that is why we fit together so perfectly, it seemed. Because for people like us, we only truly fit against something that would appear otherwise.

What is up is down. What is right is wrong. What is true is false.

My fingers danced up his chest, and I stroked his bow tie. My other hand found its way to his wild hair—he needed a cut. But this was an old man stuffed into a young and decently handsome body; it was apparent that Eleven was still transitioning, getting used to looking in the mirror and not seeing Ten. Getting used to his new personality quirks and understanding his new self—getting to know who this iteration of himself is.

The Doctor didn't back away from me, accepting my weight when I leaned onto him.

Eleven really is heart-stoppingly handsome. The Doctor, as an entire being is.

His gaze met mine, and for a moment, I swore the universe around us dimmed, as if the very stars had taken a step back to watch whatever it was that had been slowly unraveling between us.

The Doctor's breath hitched, just barely, but I caught it—I always caught it. His hands that had found their way to my hips tightened just a fraction, like he wasn't entirely sure whether to pull me closer or let go before it was too late.

His eyes—so ancient, so knowing—searched mine, his lips parting slightly, as if he wanted to say something but had gotten caught somewhere between thought and action. And then, finally, in the quietest murmur, he spoke.

"Your eyes..." His thumb brushed absently over my knuckles, as if grounding himself. "They nearly glow." A pause. A reverent kind of wonder. "I don't think I've ever seen a human with eyes like yours before."

His voice was barely above a whisper, and yet, it sent a shiver down my spine.

No he wouldn't have ever met a human with eyes as vibrant as this—not unless they too were a Celestial halfbreed.

I smirked faintly, voice just as soft, just as knowing. "I'll take that as a compliment..."

The Doctor huffed out something between a laugh and a breath, shaking his head. "It was meant to be one."

We didn't move—not really. But something in the air between us shifted. As if our very souls were reaching out, trying to bridge the impossible space between two beings who should not—could not—ever truly belong to anyone, and yet, at this moment, seemed to belong only to each other.

He looked at me, through me, as if trying to memorize every line, every curve, every secret I had ever tried to keep hidden. And I let him. Because right now, here in this moment, there was no running, no deflecting, no pushing away what had been creeping in since the moment we met.

His hands left my hips, moving with a slow, deliberate tenderness. One slid into my hair, fingers tangling in the strands, brushing through them like he was memorizing the texture, savoring the feeling of me beneath his touch. The other skimmed up my jaw before cupping my cheek, his thumb stroking along the curve of my face.

I leaned into it instinctively, my body seeking him out before my mind could catch up.

The Doctor's eyes—deep, impossibly old, and shimmering with something raw and real—never left mine. He looked at me like I was something precious, something to be adored.

How horrible that the truth was so far the opposite of this.

Then, softly, almost too softly for me to hear, he whispered, voice unsteady, "My record isn't good, dearest... I might break your heart."

I smirked, his fingers still playing at the curve of my cheek, moving till he was tracking my lips. I opened my mouth, bringing his thumb between my teeth, biting down gently before dragging my tongue against the pad in a slow, deliberate motion. His breath hitched.

"And I will break your soul, Space Lord..." I murmured, voice low, teasing, dangerous.

The Doctor let out a breathy laugh, his entire body trembling slightly against mine. "Chew me up and spit me out? Huh?"

"Don't you know it," I hummed, watching him through lidded eyes before adding, "You taste like tea."

His lips quirked, his voice nearly a purr. "And what do you taste like?"

I didn't miss a beat. "I dunno. Gunpowder? Smoke? Chaos—destruction..."

The Doctor exhaled sharply, amused, intrigued. His fingers flexed against my cheek. "Shall I find out for us?"

"If you wish," I whispered back.

I could not be sure who moved first—I was vaguely sure that he twitched forward and I followed a second later.

We both moved forward, myself leaning up and him down as we crashed together violently.

Our lips found each other hotly—locked and fitting together like two missing pieces of a puzzle.

Our noses brushed each other, jaws touching.

The force of it, the sheer inevitability of it, sent a shudder through my entire being. Our eyes closed.

His lips were hot, desperate, moving against mine like he was starved for something only I could give him. I was certainly starving for something only he was able to provide. It was all hunger and fire and the kind of intensity that bordered on unbearable.

He tasted exactly how I had always knew he would—like stardust and tea, something eternal and fleeting all at once. And now, I knew for sure. Unlike prior times, unlike last night, this time it was not a dream, it wasn't our minds desperately reaching for each other in our sleeping states.

This was reality. This was real.

A sharp, electric current surged between us, sparking under my skin and crackling along every nerve. It stole the breath from my lungs, but I didn't care. Neither did he. We didn't pull away.

We only pressed closer.

The Doctor gripped me tighter, his fingers threading deeper into my hair, his other hand curling around my waist and yanking me against him. Our clothes twisted, wrinkled, and tangled together, but none of it mattered. I molded myself against him, I wanted him—needed him and wanted more.

My hands found his face, cradling it like he was something fragile, something I never wanted to let go of. Because I didn't.

My fingers curled into his hair, pulling just enough to make him groan into my mouth. His own hands roamed frantically up and down my body, desperate to memorize every inch of me.

Through the charged air, we slowly sank to our knees together, never breaking, never pausing, never stopping. Still desperately pressing against one another. His lips were so soft—our teeth hit each other a few times, but neither one of us cared.

Even as we messily swapped saliva, even as our tongues met multiple times—it was a fight for dominance. A fight that neither of us could win, not when the power shifted back and forth faster than a tennis match.

It was getting messy, his hands tightening around me just as mine did him. When even gravity felt like too much distance, we fell, side by side in the soft grass, lost in each other. Utterly consumed.

It was even better knowing that this was the Doctor, the Oncoming Storm. This powerful man of time who most of the galaxy feared but whom I had on his knees, and now onto our sides.

The grass dug into us, my hair once again becoming a mess. Twigs and other things of nature digging into us, but how could I care when I was finally so close to him? When I was digging myself into the Doctor so deeply?

This alien man who crinkled his nose at others' display of affection toward each other—who, to the public, shook his head at the absurdity of such 'frivalous' activities like sex. And yet, here he was behind closed doors—just as desperate for me as I was for him.

My mind was murky at best. There was no chance I could focus while so close to him, with our essences intermingling so purely.

It wasn't until oxygen became an actual necessity that I finally tore my mouth from his, both of us gasping for breath, chests heaving. Hearts pounding. But I didn't let go of him—not for a second.

Instead, I tilted my head, dragging my lips along the sharp line of his jaw before nipping at his throat.

The Doctor groaned, the sound deep and wrecked, his grip on me tightening.

I didn't stop. I kissed down the column of his neck, pressing my teeth to his pulse point, letting my tongue trace the skin just enough to make him shudder beneath me.

"PJ..." His voice was low, almost pleading.

He pressed kiss after kiss into my hair, like he was trying to ground himself. His hands moved against me sweetly—stroking and almost worshipping in their pursuit.

I rolled on top of him, continuing to nip and kiss. The growl that left me at being stopped because of his damn bow tie would've been embarrassing if I was in any state to care. Instead, the thing came away as I pulled it off and tore at the top buttons of his shirt.

His collared shirt easily opened, revealing the top of his chest—allowing me to leave my affections to his skin. The Doctor was more than enjoying himself huffing and groaning underneath me.

His knees came up, trapping me to him even deeper.

"PJ..." He was sighing. "My space girl—my Cooper..."

Through words and actions, he laid his claim on me. Saying to all the universe over the past few weeks that I was his. It had not been clear at first, but the longer I traveled with him, the clearer it became.

From the very beginning, since the moment he found me in his TARDIS.

He had struggled with not coming on too strong at first, I could see that now. The war he consistently had over the past few months—needing to remind himself that I was not the version of myself that he had traveled with as Ten. Reminding himself that I did not know him as he had known me.

Had not loved him yet as he had loved me.

But Eleven had done it—he had captured the heart of THE POLARIS JADE.

And it hurt to know that one day the tides would be turned. Because I would need to leave my previous Eleven, and I would need to be with Ten—a version of the Doctor who would not know me. Who would not love me as I loved him.

And something told me that the Doctor does not fall in love easily. Does not give his heart out to just anyone—being with Ten would be painful. And yet, if I wanted this—these amazing travels and times with Eleven to happen, then one day I would need to introduce myself to Ten.

"My TimeLord," I whispered, almost possessively. And trust that if I was in a clear state of my mind, or if others were around to see this immensely private moment shared between only us, I would never be caught dead saying such words. No matter how true they are. "My Eleven." I bit his collar bone gently, earning yet another pleased groan. "My Doctor..."

He was mine.

Not literally, y'know, but figuratively and all that romantic shit or whatever.

More buttons on his shirt came undone as I continued my attack of affection. The Doctor was more than enjoying himself, his hands having found their way to squeezing my ass as I remained on top of him—guiding our affectionate gestures.

I dragged my lips lower, feeling the rapid, uneven rhythm of his breath against my skin. His hearts pounded beneath my hands, a steady drumbeat that matched the pulse of heat between us. Every inch of him trembled under my touch, every exhale ragged, every inhale a struggle.

With each button of his shirt that I popped open, I traced new territory with slow, deliberate kisses, letting my teeth scrape lightly along the newly exposed skin. The Doctor's grip on my hips tightened, fingers pressing into me like he needed something to hold onto or else risk floating away.

He was already gone.

His head tilted back, exposing more of himself to me, like some cosmic surrender. I continued downward, the heat between us almost unbearable, my lips just above his navel. His breath hitched, and the sound that left him was more than a groan—it was something deep and pleading, like he was unraveling beneath me.

"PJ..." He gasped, and I swore I could hear entire galaxies in his voice. "Oh, pl—please, love..."

Before any further action could be taken, there was sharp rustling from the brush down the hill.

The haze snapped. My mind cleared, and my body moved before my mind had even caught up.

Protect.

I shot upright, twisting over the Doctor protectively as my hand flew to my waistband. In a single motion, I yanked my blaster free, aiming it at the source of the noise. My heart was still hammering, but for an entirely different reason now.

The Doctor barely had time to react before I was locked onto the target, breath even, grip steady.

The leaves shifted again, and out hopped the tiniest, most unbothered creature I had ever seen.

It was round and rabbit-like, its soft violet fur practically glowing under the moonlight. The thing barely even looked in our direction, sniffing the air before bouncing forward, completely uninterested in us.

It was actually... rather adorable.

For a moment, I stayed frozen, gun still raised. Embarassment ate at me as the Doctor let out a soft, breathless chuckle, flopping back against the grass with a sigh. He too had seen the creature.

"This is a rather harmless and peaceful planet, remember, dearest?"

I slowly lowered my blaster, exhaling through my nose before throwing him a glare. "Doctor, there is probably still dangerous wildlife in the forest, though... even if that thing happens not to be one of them."

He winced, nodding as if he'd just remembered that fact. "Ah. Yes, right. And it is nightfall..." He sighed dramatically, slumping slightly as his hands absently traced circles along my back. "Amy and Rory are no doubt wondering where we are—we don't want to worry them."

I inhaled deeply, the weight of reality settling back in. As much as I wanted to stay tangled up with him at that moment, he was right. "Yeah, I suppose you're right..."

Before I could dwell too much on the frustration of it, the Doctor reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered against my cheek, his touch soft, grounding.

"Not that I wouldn't love to continue this..." His voice was all warmth and mischief, teasing but sincere. "But we might not have enough time..."

I let out a small, amused breath, tilting my head. "I'm sure it wouldn't take as long as you're thinking..."

His hands froze. His head snapped up, eyes locking onto mine with blatant intrigue.

"Oh, really?" His lips curled, that glint of challenge sparking in his gaze. "Is that a challenge?"

I smirked, slapping his chest lightly before pushing myself up to stand. "Sure," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

The Doctor quickly got to his feet, fumbling with his shirt buttons, hastily re-doing them before tying his bow tie back in perfect place. His grin stretched wide as he smoothed down his ruffled jacket. "Oh, I will not forget those words—don't forget that you asked for it when the time comes around."

I crossed my arms, giving him a look. "Whatever you say, Space Lord."

He only responded with a delighted little titter, shaking his head as if he had already won something. He seemed excited but was quick to motion around us.

"So, which direction to get back?" He asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know..."

The Doctor passed, his face turning into a deadpan. "Bu-But you brought us here! How can you not know?"

"I was running randomly as a unicorn in a forest that looks exactly the same, obviously, I didn't memorise the route!" I hissed defensively.

The Doctor held his hands up, but bopped my nose a moment later. I glared, eyebrows scrunching and hand coming up to swap at his arm. I missed.

The Doctor then reached into his coat pocket, pulling out his Sonic Screwdriver.

"Good thing I have Amy's signature in here..." He muttered, pressing something into the device before it started blinking and beeping lazily, lighting up brightly when the Doctor held it in a specific direction. "Ah—here we go, this way!"

We started trotting in the direction that Amy apparently was.

I asked with high levels of confusion, "Why do you have her signature programmed in there?'

The Doctor shrugged. "I have all your signatures programmed in here."

"Again, why?"

"For reasons like this, love." He rolled his eyes at my nagging.

"Still kinda weird." I quipped, the proper pronunciation of my words dropping as my American lilt became that much stronger.

"Well, I am a rather weird man," He shot back with a smile. "And still somehow no weirder than you..."

"Whatever," I scoffed as we fell into a comfortable silence.

The sonic's soft beeping echoed through the quiet forest, its blinking light casting shifting shadows across the trees as we followed its lead. The Doctor walked a step ahead, hands tucked behind his back like he was trying to keep himself from fidgeting.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye, still feeling the heat from earlier, the remnants of our moment lingering between us. He was all composed now—mostly—but I knew better. His bow tie was slightly askew, his shirt still rumpled, and every so often, his fingers twitched at his sides, like he was resisting the urge to reach for me.

A smirk suddenly tugged at his lips as he caught me staring, his voice echoing around as he spoke. "You kissed me like you've been wanting to do that for a while."

I barely missed a step as he tilted his head toward me, eyes glinting.

"You're one to talk!" I accused, pointing a finger at him. "You were all over me like you've been waiting ages!"

"I have been!" He pouted, crossing his arms in the most dramatic fashion. "Two years. Well, over two years, actually—I waited until I could see you again, and then I did, but I couldn't even kiss you—" He was gesturing wildly now, ranting in full force. "Do you have any idea how frustrating that was? Because I do! And let me tell you—"

I rolled my eyes, stepping in front of him in one fluid motion. He barely had time to react before I pressed a single finger to his lips, stopping his words instantly. His eyes widened in surprise, and I took the moment to enjoy the stunned look on his face.

"Enough of your complaints, Space Lord," I murmured, leaning in just slightly. "I envision the feeling will be returned whenever I end up with Ten. Besides—you kissed me in that bunker during the Blitz, remember? After we deactivated Professor Bracewell?"

The change in him was instant. The lightness in his expression flickered, something darker and heavier settling behind his eyes. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but for once, he didn't. He just stood there, staring at me with something unreadable in his face.

I wasn't sure why I said it. Maybe to tease him. Maybe to test him. Maybe because I wanted to see if it would get under his skin.

It did.

He lifted a hand, hesitating for just a fraction of a second before his fingers brushed against mine, the ones still resting against his lips. It was barely a touch, but it sent something curling in my stomach, something tense and warm and unexpected.

"That kind of kiss hardly counts," He practically whispered. "And I told you... it was platonic..."

"I don't believe in platonic kisses," I muttered right back.

We stayed like that for a moment, the night air thick around us, before my hand finally fell from his face. He let me go easily, his own hand lowering, his expression unreadable. We walked in silence after that, side by side but saying nothing.

But, of course, that didn't last long.

"So," The Doctor started, his voice casual, but I could hear the forced nonchalance in it. "Are you my girlfriend now?"

I huffed a quiet laugh, shaking my head. "I feel like this is more of a sneaky link situation."

The Doctor's nose scrunched and he looked at me with furrowed brows and innocently wide eyes. "What's a sneaky link?" He asked cluelessly.

Wow—this guy really is out of the 2020s loop.

I rolled my eyes, nudging his shoulder with my own. "A secret lover..." I explained.

The Doctor made an incredulous noise. "It's hardly a secret."

"Well, then, just kissy-fuck buddies, it seems."

"My word, PJ! Th-that is not what we are!" He cried while turning his head toward me, a look of sheer indignation on his face. "Besides, I've already asked you to be my girlfriend, and you said yes!"

"No," I corrected, smirking. "Apparently, you will ask me to be your girlfriend, and I will say yes, but you haven't yet."

His mouth fell open slightly. "I have! You personally, at this point in your time-stream, just haven't been asked yet!"

I grinned. "So, I both am and am not your girlfriend?"

"Precisely!"

I hummed, nodding as if considering it. "So, basically, you tell people I'm your girlfriend, and I tell people that I'm not?"

"No, you tell people that you are my girlfriend," He said with a firm nod. "Because you are."

"No, future me is."

"Future you is you!"

"Not yet." I spoke. "Besides... now I might make sure to say no... time can be rewritten..."

"Don't you dare!" The Doctor suddenly stopped walking, turning to face me fully, his hands landing firmly on his hips seriously. "You don't rewrite any of those times—not one line of it! Now, Cooper Haven Starre, will you be my girlfriend? Please?"

I tilted my head, letting the silence stretch between us for a moment before I asked, completely out of the blue and deadpan, "Do you have children?"

The Doctor blinked, his entire body stiffening. "What?"

I took a step forward, tilting my head. "Do you have children?" I repeated, voice expectant.

He swallowed, his expression momentarily unreadable. Then, with a quick shake of his head, he answered, "No."

I narrowed my eyes. "Have you ever had children, Doctor? Speak truthfully." My voice softened just a bit, but there was an edge to it, sharp and unyielding.

His mouth opened then closed. He hesitated for only a fraction of a second before trying to deflect. "And what is your truth, dearest?"

I didn't blink, didn't react. I just waited.

His jaw tightened, and then, finally, with a quiet, rough voice, he admitted, "Fine—yes."

I barely let the weight of it settle before asking, "How many?"

His eyes flickered, wary now. "How many what?"

"How many children?"

"Why is this important?"

"Answer the question, Doctor."

He exhaled sharply, his shoulders stiffening. "Thirteen."

Holy shit!

A beat of silence. I barely refrained from wolf-whistling at his answer—I knew such a thing would not be met with kindness. But it did not take away from the fact that the Doctor and his previous partner had indeed been busy.

"Thirteen children," He repeated, voice low, almost grumbling. "All of whom I loved very much, but they're gone now. All my family from Gallifrey is. Part of my history. And that's all I'm telling you at the moment. No more of those questions." He exhaled sharply through his nose, suddenly impatient. "Now, answer mine—will you be my girlfriend?"

His voice was stormier now, like the topic had soured his mood. Oops.

"Eh, you're a little old for me," I smirked, playfully stepping back. "So no."

Then, before he could even react, I spun on my heel, hair whipping through the air as I practically sashayed away.

I barely made it a few steps before I heard an offended gasp behind me, followed by a low, disbelieving sound. Within seconds, he caught up, grabbing my wrist and yanking me around to face him.

"Why not?" He demanded.

I let out a delighted little laugh. "Fine, I lied you're not too old for my tastes but I don't date men with kids," I quipped, shrugging playfully. "Sorry."

I knew I was being cruel. I knew it. But I wanted to rial him up.

Also, I needed an excuse to say no. How could I accept being his girlfriend when he knows 10% of my truth?

The look he gave me was dark—smoky and unreadable, something sharp behind his eyes. It made my stomach flip, excitement thrumming through my veins.

Then, just as I was about to tease him again, he suddenly pushed me back against a tree, his hands bracing on either side of me, his face close—too close.

I barely had time to gasp before he leaned in, voice low and dangerous. "You bratty girl..."

I swallowed, my breath catching.

Yeah I am.

The Doctor moved fast, too fast for me to react before my wrists were caught in his grip, pinned above my head against the rough bark of the tree. The moment was already heavy enough, but then he shoved his leg between mine, pressing his thigh right up into my softest parts—right where I was already wound too tight from our earlier actions. The friction sent a sharp jolt through me, a sensation so maddeningly good that I bit my lip hard to keep from making a sound.

I failed.

A small, unwilling groan slipped past my lips, and his chuckle in response sent heat coursing low in my stomach.

"I'm simply being honest," I muttered, trying and failing to sound unaffected. "I don't date people with children..."

It was supposed to come out dismissive, but instead, it sounded almost like a whine. Embarrassing.

The Doctor hummed, clearly amused, and pressed his leg against me even harder. "You don't?" He mocked, watching me with that insufferable smirk. "Then why do you say yes in the future?" His voice dipped into something heavier, more knowing. "Obviously, you knew, considering I just now told you... and besides," his tone darkened, "all of my children are dead."

There was something so utterly final in the way he said it—so heavy with grief that I nearly faltered. But instead of addressing that, I chose to do what I do best: ignore and deflect.

"I don't want to be a step mommy," I shot back, my voice lilting into something rude, teasing, and deliberately provoking.

The ugliness in me reared its head excitedly.

The Doctor's expression didn't falter, but his grip did. I barely had time to register the shift before his fingers were grasping my chin between them and tilting my face back up to his. His eyes were darker now, unreadable, his hold just firm enough to keep me still.

"I told you," He said, his voice dropping into a quiet growl. "My previous children are all gone..."

I should've stopped, should've left it at that, but I could see something shifting in his mind. He wasn't done yet. His eyes flickered with something new, something mischievous, something dangerous.

"Although," He continued, tilting his head as if considering the thought, "I can try my best to make you a real mommy if that's what you're after...?"

The way he said it, the way his voice purred over the words, sent an involuntary shiver through me, and—god help me—I actually groaned at the insinuation.

"While the process sounds tempting," I muttered, "please, never that. I hate kids..."

His laugh was pure delight, rich and warm. "You and I both know that's a lie, dearest."

I narrowed my eyes at him, still struggling against the press of his body, but he didn't let go.

"Just because I tolerate some of them doesn't mean I want any of my own," I corrected, my voice sharper now. And it was true—not that it mattered in the long run. Even if I wanted kids, it wasn't like I could have them. Between my genetic coding and the fact that I was some science experiment gone wrong, no one in the universe could impregnate me. I was immune to it, thankfully.

The Doctor's gaze softened.

"Good," He admitted, sounding relieved. "Because that was a spur of the moment suggestion—I don't want any more children..."

For a brief second, the weight of his past bled into his voice, but then his smirk was back, and I knew what was coming before he even said it.

"But isn't the process ever so fun?" He asked rhetorically.

Heat flared in my chest, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing how flustered I was getting. I turned my head away, but his grip on my chin kept me in place.

"Although," He mused, voice dropping into something low, "the process is only fun when you do it with someone you love, eh? Otherwise, it's just icky, innit?"

The air between us shifted.

The teasing was still there, but underneath it, there was something real.

I swallowed hard, knowing exactly what he was implying. I could feel the weight of his words, the unspoken truth buried beneath them.

I pushed back.

"Fine," I muttered, breaking the tension before it could break me. "Since you swear you have no children currently..."

I trailed off, trying to find a way out of this, trying to think of an excuse, a reason to still say no. But there was none. And I wanted this—I wanted him. So, I was left with only one option: damage control.

"You can be my long-term, long-distance, low-commitment, casual boyfriend," I tried weakly, hoping he'd take it.

He didn't.

The Doctor made a soft sound, unimpressed. "Try again."

I groaned dramatically, tilting my head back against the tree. "Jeez!" I huffed. "We'll meet in the middle then—you can be my casual boyfriend, and that's that. Take it or leave it."

The Doctor hummed, considering, then finally nodded. "Fine," he agreed, but his eyes glinted with something far too smug. "But just for now."

And then, without warning, he leaned in, pressing a quick, featherlight kiss against my lips.

It was so brief, so frustratingly teasing, but just as quickly as it started, he pulled away—only to leave a second kiss on my nose for good measure before finally stepping back.

I exhaled sharply, squeezing my eyes shut, desperately trying to will away the burning heat in my chest and the annoying, insistent ache between my thighs. Bastard. He'd done that on purpose, and he knew exactly what he was doing.

When I opened my eyes, his smirk was still there, insufferably smug.

"Good," I muttered, clearing my throat and nodding stiffly, trying to gather whatever shred of dignity I had left. "Glad we have that cleared up."

The Doctor grinned. "Indeed, dearest." Then, with zero hesitation, he grabbed my hand, lacing his fingers through mine like it was the most natural thing in the world, and tugged me along with him. "Come now—girlfriend—we're not far..."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes even as I let him hold my hand.

"Just because that's kind of the case doesn't mean you need to call me it," I grumbled.

"Oi, enough, peanut gallery!" He shot back, squeezing my hand teasingly.

I only huffed, rolling my eyes again, but I didn't let go. How could I when it was soft and warm and fit with mine perfectly?