SEND “5 Times the Love” AND I WILL WRITE A DRABBLE ABOUT THE FIVE TIMES MY MUSE FELL IN LOVE WITH YOURS
open to mutuals. 

                       Maybe it wasn’t love at the time; but what it symbolized and what it
    meant was love. The first invitation, the first wanderlust gaze, the first touch of
    the console, the first thrill vibrating in her stomach.           All of these had been
    pulsating  at  once  so  much  so  that  she  couldn’t spot  a single detail  until
    she replayed the scenario for the twentieth time in her head that night.     LOVE
    AT  FIRST  SIGHT     is said to be a myth, but perhaps that’s just because it is
    impossible to spot until you know for sure. It’s a sixth sense that’s kept locked
    away until you earn the key. Sappy & overly sentimental but that can be allowed
    in certain aspects of life. Otherwise there wouldn’t be a name.

                                           Saving the day. That’s what they did. Seeing the curve of
      her eyebrow as Clara expressed well-earned praise and disbelief; realising that
      the Doctor really didn’t know she was   SPECIAL   made her stomach knot and
      lips curl into a smile. And it made her decide it was her personal duty to ensure
      that the Doctor never forgot how special she was.

                      But they didn’t always save the day and leave without a scratch. There
     were times when Clara, or the Doctor, or both ALMOST died. They were always
     in danger and Clara was okay with that   ————   the adrenaline made her feel
     more alive than anything   ———-  but sometimes, it stretched to close to home.
     Seeing what the Doctor was capable of. All that suffering Clara had witnessed is
     what drew her back to Earth. She finally realised for certain that she was in love,
     when she realised she couldn’t be.    The Doctor wasn’t just some woman who’d
     whisked her away, and that trip reminded her of that.

            And of course there was the inevitability of getting far too comfortable again.
   Clara’s walls slowly came apart, brick by brick until the little trick of hers ran dry.
   There were only so many times a day you could tell yourself you weren’t in love
   with someone for it to still be true. Twice a day was too many to kid anyone but
   herself. ( And she wasn’t even succeeding at that. )  When running, she started to
   forget these little rules of hers. She was in love with her again faster than it took
   the Doctor to realise Clara had burnt another soufflé, which was exactly when it
   hit her again. Amidst the puff of flour-smoke, Clara saw her smile. She coughed
   through powder and Clara realised she never stood a chance.

                 Likely to be Clara’s favourite instance of this repeated epiphany, was
  when her heart sped up as the echo of the Doctor’s words rang in her ears.    “ I
  love you. “  She was going to brush it off, pretend it didn’t sting but then she saw
  the panicked look in her eyes.   OH.  Suddenly every gesture, every look, every
  touch came flooding back to the forefront of Clara’s memory.      Still, it seemed
  like a fairytale ending for it to be true. Her queries were answered by an abrupt
  pressing of lips against hers. She was in LOVE.