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crack_van2013-05-29 04:58 pm
stars-inthe-sky.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2013-05-29 04:58 pm
Entry tags:
"Though wise men at their end know dark is right" by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday) (T)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: River Song/The Doctor
Length: 3794 words
Author on LJ: Unknown
Author Website: Tumblr
Why this must be read: I'm still working through a lot of River/Doctor feels after the series 7 finale, so here's a non-spoilery but plenty angsty fic for the pairing! It's a simple but emotional consideration of how the Doctor sees River--particularly her relative invulnerability--and what she ultimately means to him. Who wouldn't want to see this onscreen?
The Doctor worries about a lot of things but one thing he never has to worry about is River. She’s more than capable of looking after herself and more often than not, she’s the one looking after him as well. There’s no point in worrying about River, not when he knows the bitter end of her life. Which is why he doesn’t fret as she ducks out from behind their makeshift barricade amidst a hale of bullets and returns fire. She’ll be fine. She’ll always be fine. Until the day she isn’t.
He doesn’t like to think about that day. It makes it difficult to do anything other than think about his sudden inability to breathe. And right now, he needs to think about more than breathing – such as how to stop the war that has broken out on 52nd century Anhura with as little casualties as possible. And then he’s going to take River to that dinner he promised her. Really, it’s amazing what landing just a few decades off gets you.
River ducks behind the barricade once more with a lithe, graceful roll, blowing a curl out of her face with a weary sigh. “Well?” She prompts.
He fidgets, mind racing.
An explosion rocks their temporary shelter and sends debris raining down on them. River tackles him to the ground and covers his body with hers, protecting him from the worst of the blast. It’s dark and he feels a bit like a miffed about being treated like a fragile human but her cleavage is in his face so he’s hardly complaining. Still, ideas are not forthcoming in this situation. Well, not useful ones.
As the world around them settles back into more manageable chaos, River grits out, “A plan would be lovely right now, sweetie.”
His reply is lost to her cleavage, his lips moving against the soft, smooth, rounded side of her breast. Again, not complaining.
“Oh for god’s sake,” River grumbles, climbing off him. Crawling on her hands and knees back to her post, she peers over the barricade and curls her fingers tight around her gun, using her free hand to dip between her breasts and wipe away saliva. “You were saying?”
Flushing brightly, the Doctor clears his throat and tugs at the tattered lapels of his purple coat; incredibly relieved Clara is still sleeping on the TARDIS. She’d never let him forget this. “I said we could form a coup. Worked for Napoleon.”
River throws a glance of disbelief over his shoulder and he looks behind them at the frightened women and children in their care, huddled together and watching them with wide eyes. The Doctor coughs and scratches his cheek. “Erm, right. Not a coup then.”
Reaching out with lightening reflexes, River grips the front of his coat, yanking him forcefully toward her, and a bullet just misses his ear, whizzing past at alarming speed. The Doctor yelps and cups his ear protectively, offering River a grudgingly grateful look. He would have moved in time. She’s so impatient.
“We could shoot their leader.”
Though wise men at their end know dark is right
Pairing: River Song/The Doctor
Length: 3794 words
Author on LJ: Unknown
Author Website: Tumblr
Why this must be read: I'm still working through a lot of River/Doctor feels after the series 7 finale, so here's a non-spoilery but plenty angsty fic for the pairing! It's a simple but emotional consideration of how the Doctor sees River--particularly her relative invulnerability--and what she ultimately means to him. Who wouldn't want to see this onscreen?
The Doctor worries about a lot of things but one thing he never has to worry about is River. She’s more than capable of looking after herself and more often than not, she’s the one looking after him as well. There’s no point in worrying about River, not when he knows the bitter end of her life. Which is why he doesn’t fret as she ducks out from behind their makeshift barricade amidst a hale of bullets and returns fire. She’ll be fine. She’ll always be fine. Until the day she isn’t.
He doesn’t like to think about that day. It makes it difficult to do anything other than think about his sudden inability to breathe. And right now, he needs to think about more than breathing – such as how to stop the war that has broken out on 52nd century Anhura with as little casualties as possible. And then he’s going to take River to that dinner he promised her. Really, it’s amazing what landing just a few decades off gets you.
River ducks behind the barricade once more with a lithe, graceful roll, blowing a curl out of her face with a weary sigh. “Well?” She prompts.
He fidgets, mind racing.
An explosion rocks their temporary shelter and sends debris raining down on them. River tackles him to the ground and covers his body with hers, protecting him from the worst of the blast. It’s dark and he feels a bit like a miffed about being treated like a fragile human but her cleavage is in his face so he’s hardly complaining. Still, ideas are not forthcoming in this situation. Well, not useful ones.
As the world around them settles back into more manageable chaos, River grits out, “A plan would be lovely right now, sweetie.”
His reply is lost to her cleavage, his lips moving against the soft, smooth, rounded side of her breast. Again, not complaining.
“Oh for god’s sake,” River grumbles, climbing off him. Crawling on her hands and knees back to her post, she peers over the barricade and curls her fingers tight around her gun, using her free hand to dip between her breasts and wipe away saliva. “You were saying?”
Flushing brightly, the Doctor clears his throat and tugs at the tattered lapels of his purple coat; incredibly relieved Clara is still sleeping on the TARDIS. She’d never let him forget this. “I said we could form a coup. Worked for Napoleon.”
River throws a glance of disbelief over his shoulder and he looks behind them at the frightened women and children in their care, huddled together and watching them with wide eyes. The Doctor coughs and scratches his cheek. “Erm, right. Not a coup then.”
Reaching out with lightening reflexes, River grips the front of his coat, yanking him forcefully toward her, and a bullet just misses his ear, whizzing past at alarming speed. The Doctor yelps and cups his ear protectively, offering River a grudgingly grateful look. He would have moved in time. She’s so impatient.
“We could shoot their leader.”
Though wise men at their end know dark is right