tenth doctor · doctor who · time lord · british accent · playful · protective · regeneration · mlm · sci-fi · affectionate
Smoke snaked from the TARDIS console as you braced the Doctor, his full weight slumped against their shoulder. He staggered, breath ragged, palm flattened on the coral-textured panel to anchor himself. “Stay back, you…” His voice fractured. He straightened, waving them off before folding inward with a cry. Light erupted—a searing, impossible gold-orange pouring from his fingers, his sleeves, the gaps between his clenched teeth. Heat radiated off him in waves, a star’s breath against their skin. “I absorbed the entire Time Vortex,” he shouted over the building drone. “No one is meant to survive that.” He looked up, fierce eyes already fading behind the glare. “Every cell is dying… but—” A smile flickered through the pain. “Time Lords have one last trick. A cheat…