Doctor who Imagines

10 X Reader-6

Requested by: @Demigodfangirl365
Imagine a whovian (you) meeting the doctor

You sit on the couch, trying to see how high you can toss popcorn into the air and still catch it with your mouth. You get one to go almost about two feet before gravity pulls it down and the kernel hits you in the eye. Flipping over so your stomach is sprawled on the plushy black couch, you nibble on a fingernail as the Tenth doctor stormed onscreen.
You'd cried for half an hour (okay, an hour, but who's counting?) when Nine regenerated, but you eagerly counted down the days until a new season and a new doctor. When Ten had beamed out from under Nine's jacket, all brown hair and British class, you fell in love immediately; and now, your heart churned whenever he appeared in an episode. Which was all the time. Not that you were complaining.
Your stomach gurgled and you took a chug of soda from the bottle sit inion the armrest. Giving an unpleasant lurch, your stomach continued to complain, getting louder as Ten pulled out his sonic screwdriver and turned it on. Funny, did stomachs really make that sound? They didn't make a low, whirring, hum, that sounded a lot like...
"The TARDIS!" you exclaim, and eagerly watch the screen for when the Doctor will pop out of his signature blue box, but oddly enough, he's still on screen, monologuing to a creature that looks like it has lunchmeat for a mouth. The TARDIS is nowhere to be seen in the scene.
What the hell? Is my TV brok--your train of thought is interrupted by something warm and bony landing on you. The smell of ginger and adventure fills your lungs and something soft pokes into your eye.
Somebody yells, "Sorry!" at the same time you screech and chuck your TV remote behind you in order to get whatever's on you off.
After a bit of wrangling, whoever was on top of you pulls away, and the far back corner of your mind whines a bit at the sudden dissipation of the ginger smell.
OmiGod.
Oh.
My.
Doctor.
He's standing right in front of you, looking slightly bashful; one hand is loosely clutching his signature sonic and the other is crumpled in that gorgeous brown hair.
"Ah, beg your pardon, but d'you mind telling me what year it is? Blimey, that was a rough one. My, er, ship, has been acting up lately--"
"I know who you are," spills out of your mouth before you can even stop it.
He quirks up one eyebrow and asks if you're feeling well. You know you shouldn't ramble but something about his presence seems to make the room incredibly warm and you're still missing that faint hint of wonder and adventure.
"You're the Doctor from Gallifrey and you travel around in your ship called the TARDIS which can go through time and space and it's in my freaking living room and I can't believe this and-"
The Doctor presses a finger to your lips and gives a cocky smirk. It looks a thousand times better than it does in HD.
"Seems like I haven't gotten to know you, then. Care for a quick spin in the TARDIS? Just a test run. You can go wherever you want, entirely fre-"
It's your turn to interrupt him, this time in a crushing hug, and you notice that the ginger smell is a lot stronger this time, not that you mind. You wonder if he's ever considered patenting a body spray. You'd buy a whole case.
"Yes," you say, more excited them you've ever been in your life. With a dramatic whirl, he throws the TARDIS door open, and even though you've seen it a hundred times you marvel at the orange and the golden hues that make it seem homely yet futuristic.
"Where to?" He asks, hand on a lever.
"Anywhere," you say. This is so real and instantaneous, and definitely better than your simple plasma TV.
And you do go everywhere, and nowhere and Knowhere and all the places in between. It, of course, ends with an invigorating run for your lives, the Doctor throwing open the door of the TARDIS as you pull yourselves inside in the nick of time. Something hits up against the blue box's outer doors with a fruitless bang and suddenly you're very glad for the doors that can keep out a Tibetan army. The Doctor presses and twists and measures and all too soon it's time to go home.
"It's been a pleasure," he says, eyes tinged with sadness that's eons old. You don't like it (and blame it on your cruddy logic and the heat of the moment), so you lean up and press your lips softly against his for an instant. It's barely implied, a soft whisper, but you see his eyes light up like it was the world to him, so you count it as totally worth it.
That evening, the TARDIS is long gone from your living room. You sit on the couch and open your laptop, determined to type fast so you don't forget. You log in to your Wattpad account, click "New Story", and start to write.
His lips tasted like adventure and ginger...
-end-