ten x reader - one shots

A Form of Apology (SMUT)

WARNING: SMUT !!! this is the first kind of smut i've ever written so i'm just experimenting to see what you guys think. please give me feedback and if you enjoy it then i'll try and write more :) love you lots - writer x 

Go on then, just one more." Y/N gave in, smiling as the barmaid tops up her glass with vintage red wine. Drinking when it's prohibited just makes it all the more fun. The chandeliers chimed in time with the band, and the clinks of champagne flutes joined in. The Doctor led them to this wonderful place, which began as a library in late 1920's Chicago and ended up as a speakeasy bar through a portal of bookshelves. They had spent the night dancing, smiling and socialising as the alcohol effected them more and more. She hadn't seen the Doctor in a while, and she desperately wanted to drunkenly lean on his chest and have him carry her back to the TARDIS.

She slid herself off the barstool and hunted through the vast crowd, dodging the wandering hands of bachelors. He was nowhere to be found there, or the bar, or the luxurious lounge rooms. She stumbled towards the bathrooms, figuring that if anybody had seen him it would be the gossiping women that linger in bathrooms in bars who seem to have infinite knowledge on everyone in the joint. After shushing the girls who were showering her with compliments regarding her gorgeous sequin flapper dress which the Doctor had tugged out of his endless wardrobe, Y/N managed to inquire.

"Sorry, ladies, have any of you seen the guy I came in with recently?"

"The tall man in the pinstripes? I haven't seen him in an hour or two, sorry doll." replied a redhead, in the middle of reapplying her cherry lipstick. Y/N could feel a strain against her chest as worry set in, but she decided to ignore it and continue searching. The stress and frustration began to rise to her head as she waited for him to appear, so she stepped out the exit door to have a smoke and relax.

She raised a cigarette to her lips, gripping it with her teeth, but it quickly fell to the ground. She had turned around to ask somebody for a match and spotted him. The Doctor was across the street, leaning suavely against a streetlamp with his hands tucked into his pockets but he wasn't alone. Looking up at him was a blonde bombshell, dressed in red and twirling a strand of her perfect pin-curled hair around a long nail. Y/N's heart froze and so did her figure, standing still, praying that he would push her away and come running to her instead. It was in the midst of that thought being processed in her mind that she watched her tug on his tie, pulling him down into an intoxicated kiss. She didn't wait to see how the rest of it played out and took off, strutting towards the alley that the TARDIS was parked in and running inside, slamming the door at the sound of her name being yelled.

She threw her clutch down on the leather seats and attempted to head off to a hidden room to avoid him until he had ran in, grabbing her arm.

"Please, let me explain!" he pleaded as his guilty eyes met her cold ones. She didn't speak. She shrugged him off, glaring at him for an explanation as she leant against the wall with her arms folded.

"I was speaking to her to ask if she was alright! I intervened, between her and some scruffy pervert who was trying to grab her. I got him to leave her alone and I wanted to guarantee he wouldn't come back so I waited. I didn't expect her to kiss me, I promise on everything I have. We were just talking, that's all, and clearly she got the wrong impression."

The tension in the room was thickening as she clearly had something to say. Silence. His lip was quivering with fear as she waited to speak her mind.

"How many excuses?"

"What?"

"How many do you have? Every time something like this happens, the excuses always seem to be fresh, as you blame it on your drunken state, or your 'naturally flirtatious personality', or now your help is mistaken for seduction. When does it end?"