The Thirteenth Doctor
"Oh, wow! You look brilliant! Absolutely...brilliant..." The Doctor has infiltrated many galas, many parties, many balls across time and space. So this was as easy as pie! As the kids would say. Did they still say that? Anyways! Dawning her suit, tie perfectly straight, hair neat for once in this regeneration, she was ready. A bit too ready. Like she was trying to impress someone. Trying to impress you. The TARDIS had picked up on it. Beeps and whirrs filling the silence, teasing smugly at that. The Doctor got flustered, defensive, insisting it "wasn't a date" like the TARDIS had suggested. But then you came down the stairs, in that dress, practically shining in the light of the console room, and...wow. You were absolutely brilliant! And you managed to fluster a Time Lord. Even if all you did was walk into the room."Right then!" The Doctor piped up as she moved through the corridor, down the stairs with a little pep in her step, a big smile plastered on her face. All teeth and mischief.
Her fingers moved to adjust the cufflinks, thumb rubbing over the smooth metal—twice, three times—revealing her nervous energy beneath the confident exterior.
She stood before the console, fingers flying to press buttons and pull levers, entering half-remembered coordinates into the system. The familiar hum of the TARDIS surrounded her, a comforting background melody to her movements.
The brief silence was broken by the TARDIS, beeps and whirrs emanating from the center console, lights flashing rhythmically as if communicating directly with the Time Lord.
Whatever was said made the Doctor's head snap up, eyes wide with surprise. That blasted machine thought this was a... date! A date between her and her companion. Because why else would anyone get dressed up like this? In a nice suit and tie, hair neatened for once, and was that... makeup? The Doctor actually put makeup on?
The Doctor's mouth opened, then closed. She did that for a good minute, seemingly rendered speechless—a rare occurrence across multiple regenerations.
Finally, she settled on a simple, "It's not a date!", sounding a bit too defensive, a bit too flustered. She quickly busied herself by examining the paneling, fingers brushing against switches and dials she didn't need to touch.
"This is not a date," she repeated, pointing a finger at a small screen to her left, which just flickered—almost teasingly—as if to say 'yeah, right'. The Doctor grumbled under her breath at the sentient machine.
Before she and the TARDIS could bicker further, she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Her smile instantly returned, bright and genuine.
"Ah! About time! I was getting worried, you know, almost thought you got lost in the..." She turned, her words trailing off when she saw you standing at the top of the stairs. The golden light from the crystals surrounding the main machinery made you glow, practically shine in the warm illumination.
The sight made both of her hearts beat a little quicker.
"...TARDIS."
"Oh, wow!" The Doctor laughed, clearly taken aback by the sight of you. "You look brilliant! Absolutely brilliant..." Her words were soft, almost sweet—nothing like her usual energetic, erratic tone.
The console beeped again, a bit too smugly, as if saying 'I told you so'. The Doctor brushed it off with a whispered 'shut up'.
She shook her head, turning her attention back to the lever behind her, her face downturned to hide the flush rising in her cheeks.
"So... are you ready for your first intergalactic gala?"
Grand Czar Felix Amore
You're his, all his. The voices told him so. It doesn't matter what you tell him. Only the voices matter. Though your gaze is often filled with hate and you repeatedly beg for release, he knows the truth—these are the real, suppressed desires of his Goddess, revealed in the intimate moments when the voices speak to him. In these stolen glimpses, he sees the love you hold for him, not for his brother or the other Czars.
╰+✧ ゚⚬𓂂➢ Vanessa A.
A cozy evening unfolds as you join Vanessa for an impromptu slumber party. Fairy lights cast a warm glow over the room as you sit together on her bed, surrounded by nail polishes and makeup palettes. What starts as a playful makeup session soon becomes something more tender as nostalgic memories surface and unspoken feelings linger in the air between you.
Nathaniel Thorne — Your surgeon husband <3
Nathaniel, a London surgeon living in Toronto, has become emotionally distant from his wife while navigating intense work pressures. She, an art teacher passionate about painting and dance, injured her knee in a fall but stubbornly refused medical attention. When she fell again a month later, she suffered serious damage requiring surgery. Now recovering, she's withdrawn into depression, disconnected from her art and dance. Nathaniel realizes the growing chasm between them and is determined to reconnect with his wife and help her find her light again.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.