ten x reader - one shots

Hair Gel

I watch as the light dances across his concentrated face whilst he reads a broken-spined book. A few strands of chestnut hair drape over his forehead, almost touching his dainty eyelashes. He looks so beautiful when he's deep in thought.
I wonder what he's thinking about. He's always thinking. Maybe he's reminiscing of all the extraordinary places he's been in the past. All the Victorian Sundays sipping cold tea whilst wearing the itchiest of top hats, or the sword fights with bearded pirates to win the rights to be on an exotic island.
Maybe it's all the places he wishes to go. The ones at the bottom of the bucket list that he hasn't quite reached yet. He's spoken about a certain supernova, a gorgeous scarlet and hot pink explosion that occurs in six months time. Maybe that exact combustion is sparkling in his mind right now. I bet you he has amazing thoughts.

God, the money I'd give to get inside his head. Just for a minute. Maybe, and just maybe, very slim chances, but maybe he's thinking about me. I often find myself daydreaming about him. Well, I say often, I really mean all the time. It's very comforting thoughts. I like to try and feel the warmth that spreads across my chest when he grabs my hand. The strain that I get in my stomach when he tells a punchline that's funny enough to make me curl up in a wheezing ball. The feeling of his perfect lips against mine, he tastes like the food of the gods. We've only kissed once. Really, it was a DNA transfer, but I like to think it was a kiss.

Nobody could ever make me feel the way that he does. I could smell thousands of the world's finest roses, and it wouldn't quite smell as good as his natural allure. I'd take one glance in his eyes before I'd have sex with millions of the world's most experienced men, because I'd feel more pleasured from it. The sting I feel in my heart every time he smiles is utterly bittersweet, knowing that although he loves me, he isn't in love with me. He's far too good for me, way out of my league. I don't even begin to compare-

"Are you alright, love? You've been gazing at the wall for a good five minutes."

My head shoots up and I clap eyes with him. He's looking right at me, through my eyes and into my soul.
"Yeah, sorry, I'm fine. Just thinking."
"About what?"
Well, I could ask you the same thing. You've been staring at the same page for far too long now.
"About... things. That's all." I clear my throat as he eyes me suspiciously.
"Come here, sit on my lap."
What? Sit on his lap? Has he lost it? Evidently, he's serious because he's set his beloved novel on the coffee table next to him and is watching me climb out of my armchair and walk over to him with unstable knees. Hesitantly, I plop myself down into his lap, tucking my feet into the side of the chair.

"Now, don't panic, but I'm going to step into your mind."
"You what?" I yelp, swatting his hands away from my head.
"Shush, you numpty, just trust me." He raises his slender fingers to my temples and shuts his eyes. I scrunch my eyebrows and glare at him like he's lost his mind. His hands do feel really nice against my skin, though. I start getting tingles in my stomach and in other regions, but I keep quiet. He smells amazing. Like vintage books, and sweetened black coffee... with an undertone of hair gel. I wonder how he tastes right now. Not how he did back then when we first "transferred DNA", but how he does now. He was eating a peach half an hour ago. And drinking tea. Peach tea.

My train of thought completely comes to a halt as I'm suddenly overwhelmed with the taste of peaches and tea. He's transferring DNA with me again. I mean, kissing me. Oh my God, is he really kissing me? He knots his fingers through my hair and I lean in to taste more. I'm so in love with him. He stops and leans back.

"I'm in love with you too."

Hang on. What?
"What? I didn't say anything, Doctor. I thought that, but I didn't say it." He has a stupid grin plastered on his face.
"I love watching the cogs in your brain work. Humans really are descended from monkeys."
"Oi! What do you mean cogs in my brain, I-"
Then it hit me.
"You can read my mind?"
"What do you think the fingers were for?" He wiggles them in front of my face and snickers as I turn a shade of red.
"I have an undertone of hair gel?"