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The Doctor and River play some Quidditch.

The Doctor reached. He stretched out his arm as long as he could and wiggled his fingers. He almost had it!

Suddenly his weight shifted and he rotated 180 degrees vertically. He found himself hanging underneath his broomstick, the landscape flashing by. The golden snitch flew around him in a mockingly whirr, practically laughing.

He swiped at it, setting himself to swinging. He hastily grabbed his flying broomstick with both hands as he zoomed over the Quidditch pitch.

“Heads up, Sweetie!” River yelled and smashed a bludger toward him with her beater’s bat.

“Hey!” He clamped himself close to his broomstick, dodging the bludger which flew under him, too close. “You’re on my team!” he pointed out hotly, his hair streaming in the wind, bowtie fluttering.

“No I’m not, honey, I’m a Gryffindor.”

“I’m a Gryffindor too!” he yelled.

“Nope,” she zoomed in on her broomstick, at his head level. “You’re a Ravenclaw.” She grinned at him and kissed his cheek.

His mouth dropped open, and he stared at her, upside down. “Who decided that?”

She shrugged elegantly, upright on her broom, and gave a superior smirk. “The Sorting Hat.”

He glared at her. The one hat she wouldn’t shoot. The thing practically had a crush on her. He remembered how it looked sitting on her head in the Great Hall. She’d looked the epitome of beautiful mature witch with her bumpy nose and witchy curls boiling out from under the hat.

They’d practically had to pry the hat off her, it had been clinging to her curls.

He did remember it looking awfully smug and besotted. He also remembered it pinching him. He was sure there was a pin in it somewhere.

River leaned casually sideways on her broom as a bludger flew by, ruffling her hair. She pointed at him with her bat. “You better get a leg up, Sweetie. Don’t you have a snitch to catch?”

Suddenly she flashed up directly in front of him, blocking him with her body and slamming the approaching bludger back in the direction it had come from. “Oh no you don't!” she yelled.

She swooped her broom down and away in a slick sweeping curve as she gave chase. The opposing beater gulped and sped away.

The Doctor watched his wife’s elegant flight, as always, delighted by her form. But she wasn’t exactly a team player.

Suddenly a small golden ball blurred up in front of him, silver wings buzzing, practically kissing his nose.

He grabbed at it. It chuckled and zipped away.

It had to be related to River.

He climbed back on his broomstick, an awkward proceedure, that made him bless whoever had come up with the spell to make them stay upright. A greased log spin he did not need at this height!

He peered around the pitch, the wind plastering his bow tie against his neck, his jacket flaring in the breeze. He’d slowed to a drift, fortunately, otherwise he’d have flown out of the pitch long ago.

He didn’t see the snitch anywhere. He pulled out the sonic and scanned.

“Cheating, Sweetie!” River yelled down to him as she flew by overhead. He ignored her.


He caught sight of the golden glint and sped off.


River landed beside him where he sprawled facedown on the pitch. He looked up with a mouthful of dirt and grass. The horn blared, indicating the end of the game.

Something wiggled under his stomach. He reached down and dug a hand under him.

He dragged out the hard little golden ball, it folded its wings and sat docilely in his hand.

“Gotcha!” he yelled triumphantly. He held it up for River to see.

The rest of the teams gathered around them in a flying circle.

She shook her head at him.

“Sweetie, you’re not supposed to tackle the snitch.”
The Doctor and River play some Quidditch.

Doctor Who, Harry Potter, 11th Doctor, River Song, Quidditch, Romance, Humor, Fluff, PG

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The Pond family is doing a little yard work...

River was trimming the hedges. Rory was mowing the lawn. The Doctor was using a toothbrush to polish the stepping stones, (no one told him he didn’t have to, it kept him out of trouble.)

River ran a bare foot up the Doctor’s calf as she stepped over his prostrate form, proceeding along the hedge. He kicked a heel lightly in response. Rory pretended not to see.

Amy looked up from where she was pulling weeds in the tulip bed. “Anyone for some lemonade?” she asked, pushing her large floppy “Southern Belle” hat back and wiping her forehead.

“What?” Rory yelled over the growling of the lawnmower.

“LEMONADE!” Amy yelled at him.

“I’m almost done, don’t need any help, thanks,” he yelled back.

River grinned. She flipped her giant scissorlike clippers into the ground where they stuck upright, quivering. “I’ll get it, mum,” she called back. Amy waved at her and went back to weeding.

“I’ll help!” The Doctor jumped up enthusiastically, brandishing his toothbrush. “Besides, I need more toothpaste.”

River bit her lips but didn’t smile. She did have to admit, the paving stones had never looked shinier.

The Doctor danced into the kitchen, and headed straight for the lemons, which he started peeling.

River didn’t correct him, there was more than one way to skin a cat, or juice a lemon.

She pulled down a pitcher out of the cabinet, and stretched up for the bag of sugar. She turned around to ask the Doctor to get some ice, and found him staring at the back of her legs. She loved that look on his face. He had a half peeled lemon in one hand, and a totally zoned out happy look on his face.

She glanced down her backside. She was barefoot, and wearing raggedy cutoffs, not an especially elegant outfit. She waggled a foot at him.

He jerked and looked up, almost guilty, but with a bright eyed happy look. They were far enough along in their relationship that he didn’t automatically act guilty to be caught looking at her any more.

“You have pretty legs,” he said. “And a suntan,” as if it was an amazing thing.

She looked down at the back of her calf, she had acquired a nice dusky brown color.

“Thank you, Sweetie.” She’d never admit that such comments from him, put a tingle in her stomach. It was really awful to realize, at her age, that she still had the most terrible crush on a boy.

He set aside his lemon, walked up and took the pitcher and bag of sugar out of her hands and set them on the counter. He looked at her and tilted her face up with one finger.

Her toes curled. She realized again how much taller than her he was, especially when she was in her bare feet. They were absolutely the best height for each other, for kissing, and other things.

“Your nose is pink,” he said, grinning down at her.

That was an absolute lie. She did not have the skin tone for pink. He, on the other hand, had a bright red nose. The man couldn’t go to the beach without a triangle of zinc on his face.

She was tempted to poke him in his sunburned nose. But he was leaning in. She loved it when he leaned in. Those tingles in her belly metamorphed into butterflies. Tingling, fluttering, her toes practically gripping a dent in the linoleum.

He kissed her. Soft tingly kisses that slowly deepened as he stepped closer to her. There was nothing in the world sexier than his voluntary kisses, River agreed with herself.

“Where’s that lemonade!” Amy’s voice yelled from out in the yard.

River silently cursed her mother as the Doctor drew back. “Mmm, tart,” he mumbled to himself, to her, eyes dark and velvety. He dove forward for another quick slow kiss, mumbling against her mouth. “Tangy.”

She kissed him back, lingering as he pulled away.

Doctor Who, 11th Doctor, River Song, Amy Pond, Rory Williams, Romance, Humor, Fluff, PG

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The Doctor and River are both silk and steel in different combinations. She's weapons and warfare, he's bow ties and top hats...

River sharpened the edge of the katana with a swishing, ringing sound of stone on metal.

The Doctor stopped in the doorway of her Tardis dojo and gulped. His eyes looked both ways down the corridor, as if looking for a quick exit.

“Don’t worry, honey,” River said, still shushing the stone along the blade, “this isn’t for you.”

He snorted a quick gulp. “I never thought it was.”

She looked up at him out of the corner of her eye, a daring, doubtful look that made him reach up to adjust his bowtie.

He stopped his hand, perhaps now was not the best time to remind her of his bowtie, with that sharp knife in her hand. Unconsciously his hand went up toward his head to make sure he wasn’t wearing a hat.

She smirked.

She stood up and swished the katana through an elaborate figure eight all around her body. He stepped back, even though he was nowhere near her.

You learned things being married. Such as when your spouse needs space.

She grinned and slipped the sword into its sheath.

“Where did you get that?” he asked, once the sharp edge was safely shielded.

“Madame Vastra gave it to me,” she smiled at him and hung the sword on the wall, along with her collection of morning stars, throwing knives, and numb chucks. The only thing on that wall he was more leery of than the sword was those numb chucks. He’d seen her use them.

His Adam’s Apple bobbed. “I wasn’t aware you knew her,” he said.

She sauntered up to him. “There’s still lots of things you don’t know about me, Sweetie.” She stopped right in front of him, so close that her front just lightly nudged his. His hands started shaking.

“For example,” she continued, her eyes roving over him, absorbing him in that totally attracted way that still surprised him. He’d seen his reflection in the mirror, he still wasn’t sure what she saw.

“I may perforate your hats,” she tilted her head, those green and blue eyes swamping him with their speculative absorption, drawing him in, drowning him. “But I’d never cut our ties,” she said softly.

She kept her eyes on his, and leaned forward (oh, so softly and warmly forward) and kissed the center of his bowtie.

He whimpered. Just a bit.
Silk and Steel
Doctor Who, 11th Doctor, River Song, Martial Arts, Romance, Humor, Fluff, PG

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It sucked being a merman. Being a mermaid was fun, mermaids were traditional, they got all the attention, there was glamor associated with being a mermaid, mermaids got cartoons.

Mermen, mostly got jibes.

It was sissy to be a merman. A triton was different, A triton was basically a tough, butch, fish-scaled man with two legs (and the appropriate appendages between) but a merman was basically a mermaid with the wrong top.


Oh well, you couldn’t change what you were born. And he did have long hair. Although he didn’t spend hours sitting on a rock combing it like the girls did. And he looked silly wearing two coconut shells on his chest.

The dolphins liked him, though. They thought he was awesome, He was strong enough to join them in dolphin tag, and tailball, and hunting. Girls tended to wear out faster.

But it was sort of lonely. There weren’t a lot of mermen. Most guy merpeople were tritons. But he’d been born with a tail. It was a handsome tail though. A very masculine tail, muscular and sleek, not at all sissy.

He flapped his flukes, they shimmered green and blue and sparkly purple. He could see the reef anemones through them (careful to keep them away from the poisonous spines.)

And he could swim faster than the tritons. A tail, especially a strong masculine tail like his, was much better for swimming than legs.

Although that means he couldn’t go up on land. You needed legs for that. And he didn’t transform like the girls did. He didn’t have a triton’s scaly legs, and it didn’t matter how many times he beached himself, or dried himself off in the sun, he still just had a tail. (And it got really itchy when it was dry.)

He didn’t really want to see what was on land anyway, from what he could tell it was just sand and weeds, and there was more colorful and interesting stuff under water.

But it would be nice if the girls didn’t treat him like one of the girls, and if the guys didn’t treat him like one of the girls.

He was a guy. Just because his guy parts were more discreet than a tritons, (more like the dolphins who kept it in their tail unless they were using it) didn’t mean he was a girl.

After all, he wasn’t even an ugly guy (from the waist up at least), he was just as wide shouldered and muscular as the tritons. He didn’t have scales on his upper torso, true. It would be nice if his shimmery blue, green, and purple scales covered all of him like it did on a triton. He had the pale, dolphin like skin of a mermaid, but it did cover nice bulgy muscles, strong arms, and strong fingers.

Give him a trident and he could wreak havoc just as well as any of the other males.


It just wasn’t fair.

He turned over in his conch shell and twirled a lock of long blond hair on his finger, brooding.

“Ah-hum,” a voice cleared beside him.

“Your highness, your father wishes to see you in the throne room.”

He sighed.

It was annoying to have a tail. But that was the curse of royalty.

All the Sea Kings had tails.
I normally only post Doctor Who fiction here on DeviantART, but I wrote this as part of a "fast writing" exercise and it turned out pretty good.

So, for those of you who enjoy my Doctor Who stories, here's something a bit different.

To return to the previous Doctor Who channel, go to my Doctor Who gallery - here.
The Doctor and River, being hunted on an alien planet, it's always something....

River sighted down her gun over the barricade but didn’t shoot. She tracked her target as the Doctor sat twiddling his thumbs beside her.

The octopoidal locomotion and armored carapace of the Mendagin made for a difficult shot, but as long as it kept on its way she had no quarrel with it.

She looked down beside her as the landbound octopoid disappeared into one of the broken down skyscrapers, the Doctor was sitting beside her weaving a cat’s cradle on his long fingers with a spare piece of string.

“So how do you suggest we get back to the Tardis?” she asked, somewhat irked at his lackadaisical attitude. Mendagins were known to be ferocious and ruthless, and absolutely homicidal in defense of their territory.

Unfortunately, their territory included the basement of the building the Tardis had materialized in.

“Is he gone?” the Doctor asked, turning those childishly innocent eyes up at her. “Oh good.” He pocketed his string and crawled up to peer over the barricade, a broken plastercrete wall with seashells imbedded in the mortar.

He noticed one particularly pretty shell, still intact in its matrix, and rubbed at it happily, shining it with his thumb.

She had an almost insatiable urge to turn the gun on him. Really, there were times she could see why her trainers had wanted him shot.

“Whenever you’re ready, Sweetie,” she said in a highly sarcastic voice.

“What? Oh, right!” he turned his attention up from the shell, giving it a friendly pat, and cocked his head at the forty story building before them.

The whole city was a shambling ruins, skyscrapers with huge holes blown out of them, rubble strewn the streets. It was quite at odds with the pretty robin’s egg blue sky and the jaunty yellow flowers that grew up through the cracks.

They were under a bit of a timetable. This section of the city had been H2O scooped and set down in this valley, the Mendagin had a dam all ready to blow to flood the valley and provide them with the junky, aquatic, environment they preferred.

But, much as she admired the terraforming practicality of the Mendagin, it was still a bit of a problem, considering she and the Doctor didn’t breath water well.

And this was a military outpost. The Mendagin may have scavenged the planet, but they still had to claim it by salvage rights, which meant no indigenous population, which meant she and the Doctor were not welcome.

“Top down,” the Doctor said, nodding up at the roof.

River game him a gimlet look, then looked up at the top of the broken forty story building.

“And just how do you expect to get up there?” she asked. She was an expert at getting down from tall buildings, getting up was a different matter.

“Climb it.” He grinned, clapped his hands and jumped up. “We can take the elevator shafts back down to the basement.” He swung one leg jauntily over their barrier then stopped as he half turned. “Ah!”

River whirled, gun up. There were eight Mendagin gathered around them, hulking, large, armed, and glaring at them out of their one eye, armored bulk like turtle shells surrounding them edge to edge.

“Brilliant! Hello! Pleased to meet you! Beautiful planet you have here! Glorious sunsets! Fresh air! Nice demolished buildings! Congratulations on your new home!”

Before River could even think about shooting, the Doctor had shaken 64 tentacles and was beaming up at the homicidal octopi as if he were the worlds cutest puppy and couldn’t wag his tail hard enough.

The Mendagin all stared down at him in consternation with their one large, humanlike eye.


Thirty-two tentacles stuffed them into the Tardis. They were wrapped in the muscular living ropes, like large sausage covered mummies.

Thousands of suckers spat them out, and all whipped back, slamming the door with a resounding bang.

“Thanks!” The Doctor yelled after them from the floor, hair and clothes disarranged, bright red sucker marks visible on his skin.

River’s hair was squashed every which way, her clothes bunched, her gun bent, and a ferocious scowl on her face.

“See?” the Doctor said brightly as he straightened his jacket. “Never start a war when you can be hospitable.”

River stood up very slowly. It was a good thing her gun was bent.
Eight Kinds of Trouble
Doctor Who, 11th Doctor, River Song, Adventure, Romance, Humor, Fluff, PG

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I'm a prolific Doctor Who fan fiction writer. I write Doctor Who stories from as short as a couple of hundred words to full novels and everything in between.

All the stories are canon compliant, meaning they're the type and rating of thing you'd find in the TV show itself. Adventure, mystery, humor, romance, and fluff. Alien worlds, historical times, contemporary adventures, and including all the different Doctors and Companions from Doctor Who, Classic and New.

I hope you enjoy the stories.

(I'm new here on DeviantART, so I'll be adding the stories gradually over time.)

All stories are works of fan fiction. Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. No infringement is intended.


Betawhofic's Profile Picture
United States
Longtime Doctor Who fan and writer.

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LeafyLeafeon11 Featured By Owner Apr 21, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Do you take requests?
Betawhofic Featured By Owner Apr 21, 2015
Sometimes, although I only do canon pairings and I don't write other people's OCs.

It depends on whether the idea sparks an idea for a story.
LeafyLeafeon11 Featured By Owner Apr 21, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Well, in silence in the library where the doctor meets river, she tells him about when she met him before they were there. She said they went to see the swaying hills/towers and she said that he cried, and wouldn't tell her why.
Maybe you could do a short story of that :3
MclatchyT Featured By Owner Nov 9, 2014
Thank You For The Fav! :D
Anouk-Jill Featured By Owner Sep 26, 2014  Student General Artist
thank you so much for the fav!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Hug :happybounce: 
ChibiAyane Featured By Owner Sep 4, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for joining :icontorchwho:
TheFemaleDoctor1073 Featured By Owner Aug 31, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Hello, how are you? :)
Radiolaire Featured By Owner Aug 28, 2014
Thank you for the favourite!
Tomsworld642 Featured By Owner Aug 9, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for the fav!Mini Tardis 11th Doctor Dance 
Rapsag Featured By Owner Jul 26, 2014
Thanks for the fave!
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