Put an ‘Angst please.’ in my ask and I’ll generate a number 1-10 and see what our muses get!

8. My muse has poisoned themselves (accident or purposeful, up to the mun.) and become very ill while alone with your muse.

Running back to the TARDIS, the Doctor closed the door shut and leaned against it, trying to catch up his breath. He had been cursing himself during all the running, but now the realisation of what happened was stronger. Because he couldn’t tell Clara this. He couldn’t let he worried about him. Oh, dammit.

They’d gotten into a fight right before the wedding. He didn’t know if he was ready, and having all those unknown guest from his future was driving him mad. So the Doctor did the only thing he could do. He canceled the wedding, had a talk to the guest for them to know that he wasn’t simply leaving Clara at the altar. He loved her, but he wasn’t ready.

         So he ran away. 

Clara was mad, of course she was. She called him yelling with fury, and they haven’t spoke since then. The Doctor missed his Impossible Girl deeply, and missed their little Rose. Missed the life they’ve had before.

          Oh, if he didn’t run away that day.

             He wouldn’t be regretting every second of the present.

But now things changed. He’d poisoned himself with the radiation in order to save those people. And the time he had was few. He needed to see Clara. He needed to look at her once more, to kiss her soft and sweet lips one more time. To take her on his arms and breath the perfume in her bright and beautiful hair. He needed to have a last look on their daughter, to kiss Rose in the forehead and make sure she’ll know that no matter what— her father would always be there for her.

He went to the med bay and tried to reverse the poison, but it was in vain. The Time Lord knew that.. but he refused to accept the consequences. He was afraid of seeing Clara again. But it was only thing left for him, right? If he couldn’t spend the eternity with her, he should at least touch his love for one last time. Landing the TARDIS in her house, the Doctor went to her door in faltering steps. The trace of a bright smile - the happiest smile of the few months for him - appeared on his face when she opened the door.

           ”Clara…”

                      It’s so good to see you.

               ”I’m so sorry. For- for all I’ve done.”

                              I missed you so much.

                    “But I- I need you.”

                                    I love you.

                            “I’m dying, Clara. 

                                     Let me die at your side. 

                                                P l e a s e.”