Doctor Who x Reader One-Shots

Ink (12th)

Words: 720

Time had passed in a blur as (Y/n) attempted to gather the courage to confront the Doctor. She knew exactly what she wanted- she had known what she wanted since she was a little girl- and she also realized the Doctor was her best shot at getting it.

So, as she hovered nervously behind him, her thoughts raced as she tried to pick out the right words to say. But, the Doctor seemed to catch on to the her jittery habits in almost no time flat.

He whipped around, brows furrowed as he scanned her, "Why are you being so quiet?" His voice was suspicious, and his eyes narrowed as he pulled away from the Tardis counsel to pace around the nervous girl.

"What is it?" He asked, jaw shifting back and forth. (Y/n) wasn't a new companion, but he swore for some reason it was harder to read her ever since regenerating into the twelve. He used to be perfectly capable of knowing every little reaction she would give, and one of his many frustrations when he regenerated happened to take that understanding away for him. If she didn't spell it out for him, he was not going to understand what she wanted or was trying to say.

In an attempt to explain what she wanted, (Y/n) began telling a story, "When I was a little girl, I knew some people with tattoos. And, they just seemed so interesting. One woman, she had-"

"Tattoos?" He stopped her. With a blink, (Y/n) paused and licked her lips as she thought.

"There's no way you don't know what a tattoo is," Slowly and carefully she accused. 

The Doctor rolled his eyes and groaned, "Of course I know what a tattoo is. I'm just wondering what this has to do with you being a little nugget of a child-"

At first, you thought he had frozen because of your little objection to his insult, but he whipped around. Suddenly, he refused to face you. He took a deep breath, almost as if he was steeling himself.

"(Y/n)," He began carefully. "Do you have a secret tattoo? Are you wanting it removed? I'm not going anywhere near your heinie if thats where it is."

Oh, he sounded so serious and his Scottish accent seemed to flare up so greatly as he spoke she almost missed what he said, "Oh dear lord, Doctor! No!"

Quickly, he pivoted on his heel with an overdramatic, relieved sigh, "Thank goodness. That would not have ended well. Anyways, perhaps we should-"

"I want a tattoo," (Y/n) stopped him, shoving her words into the gap between his. Her hopes were high that he either didn't hear it, or that he would just agree and go along with her little plan. However, when his face dropped and his mouth gaped with horror, she quickly realised her hopes were probably much too large.

"On your heinie?" He asked in disbelief. (Y/n) about slapped herself straight smack in her poor, throbbing forehead.

With an irritated groan, she squealed, "No, Doctor! Just no!"

"Where then?" His eyes were still wide with terror, as if he expected her to say the most outrageous sentence in the world. It took her a moment to calm down before she could answer him properly.

Sniffling slightly, she cleared her throat before muttering, "On my back. Easily concealed, so if there's any planet out there that has a religious hatred for body-ink then it won't be much of a problem."

Luckily, the Doctor closed his mouth, and his face shifted to where he looked rather deep in thought. Two minutes later and he was still staring at (Y/n) as she began to fidget under the almost angry gaze. Another three minutes passed, and he suddenly spurred into action.

"What's the meaning of the tattoo?" He inquired, propping himself up on the TARDIS console as his intense gaze followed (Y/n)'s every movement.

Slowly, her face burst into a grin, and she asked, "Does that mean what I think it means?"

When the Doctor hesitantly nodded, she squealed and launched herself at him in excitement. The poor man yelled and tried to pry himself out of her tight hug, failing at covering his large smile.

"No, no, no!" He hollered. "I'm not a fan of hugs! Get off me woman!"