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ineffableuser · 3 years ago

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A Dance Of Two Lovers

(A TenRose short story)

By Ineffableuser

Word count: 1856

Constructive criticism is highly appreciated!

I know this is probably impossible in the canon universe, but it’s been inside my head for almost two months, plus I did not make a tumblr account to stick to canonical content.

I’ll publish an Italian version right after this; some words may be slightly different but it is the same story.

If you like it, please consider reblogging, but likes and comments are fine too.

Enjoy!

“What’s that?”

The Doctor’s attention shifted from the TARDIS component he was tinkering with to the spot the girl was pointing at from the seat.

“Oh… that,” he said, frowning and glancing one last time at the problem that he knew was there, but simply couldn’t find. After a bit of mumbling that Rose couldn’t hear, he got up from under the grate that served as the TARDIS’ floor; he raised his head to look at the peculiar helmet that was hanging a few meters over their heads and slid his hands in his pockets.

“It’s the Chameleon Arch. It’s a device that rewrites a person’s DNA: if a TimeLord uses it, their genes get modified until they become human,” he started gesturing a bit, imitating the movement of interlocking the Arch and the watch, “and their memories get stored in some kind of fob watch that you put there... in the front.”

“Luckily I never had to use it—it probably hurts a lot, too—but if there were a menace that required for me to not be a TimeLord anymore and/or to not remember anything about my life, I’d use thi—I’m sorry, is there something wrong?”

His speech had become more and more hesitant once he had noticed that Rose was staring at him as if he had told her that the TARDIS was going to grow a mustache.

“Rose?” He heard his voice tremble slightly, his body now turned completely towards her.

She blinked a couple of times and shook her head, apparently awake from the trance she had appeared to be in until a few seconds before.

“No… no, everything’s—I’m OK, it’s just that… a machine that can turn you human, I didn’t think it was possible, that’s all.”

He stepped close to her and the corner of his mouth lifted to form a small smile.

“Well, there are a lot of things that many people don’t think could be possible, and yet, here you are, in one and talking to one.”

She hit his arm playfully.

“Oh, don’t be so smug.”

“Sorry, can’t help myself.”

They laughed and soon dropped the subject, but some of her actions, such as glancing at the Arch or trying to initiate conversations that never took place, didn’t go unnoticed to her companion.

A couple of travels later, he just couldn’t keep himself from asking; little did he know, neither could she.

“Rose, I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been acting a bit… weird lately, did something happen? Did I do somethi-“

“Could it work the other way around?”

He blinked a couple of times and simply stared at her, astonished.

“If there were a way to make it work the other way around, we would solve our problem, right?” She sounded anxious, and, by the looks of it, she was very tense.

The Doctor gently grabbed her shoulders.

“Slow down. Are you talking about the Chameleon Arch? What problem are you referring to?”

“You said it yourself: you don’t die. I can live the rest of my life with you, but you can’t spend the rest of yours with me,” she hesitated, then put her hand on his. “If I were a Time Lord—or Time Lady, I guess—the problem would not arise. We could travel together for how long we wish, see everything and every time we wanted, if we managed to invert the process and avoid the memory loss-“

He shushed her. His heartbeats had experienced a significant acceleration throughout their conversation and, in a small corner of his mind, a glimmer of hope had started forming, and his only wish was to suffocate it.

“I can’t. I don’t know how and, even if I did, I couldn’t do something like that to you.”

She shook her head lightly.

“What does that mean?”

“Immortality isn’t a gift: it’s a curse. You’d regret it right away, or maybe after a few years.

He could distinctly see the tears that had been forming in her eyes and that she was trying to hold back, a disappointed look on her face; he was also doing his best to keep his tone sweet and calm instead of shaky. Her grip on his hand became firmer.

“Not if we stay together.”

He was about to interrupt her, but she didn’t let him.

“You can’t possibly think that after everything we’ve been through, this isn’t what I want. You can’t—“ her voice broke, and her hand came to rest on her side once more. He stared at her, his eyes expressing sorrow, behind which, they both knew, laid so much more.

Her hands were warm once they reached his face, but not as warm as her lips. They didn’t move for an instant, the space between them now closed. Their lips started dancing against each other, a sad and desperate dance of two lovers who feared that, once the music stopped, they would never see each other again. His arms slid from her shoulders to behind her back, and he held her even closer.

Once their eyes opened and they looked at one another, neither of them loosened their grip; he rested his face in the crook of her neck and sighed. She hugged him back and sobbed, and he watched her shirt get damp with his own tears. He slowly caressed her back, enjoying the smoothness of the fabric covering her skin and, in a moment born thanks to many factors—such as desperation, love and the little voice in his head that had started solving equations since the moment of her suggestion—he did what he had been desperately trying not to do. He let that glimmer be and allowed it to light his way.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He was biting his nails.

He had done all that he could. He had taken the Chameleon Arch down, opened every panel he could open, reversed every mechanism he could reverse and calculated more than a human mind could calculate in an entire life. Rose was sitting, eating chips and looking at him turning the watch in his hands.

That was the key, and if there’s a key than there has to be a lock: what he had been trying to do—he didn’t know how long for—had been looking for every possible way to pick it. He took a breath.

“It should work. It should.”

“Really?” Asked Rose, swallowing another chip, trying to swallow down her anxiety with it.

“Yes. In theory. That’s the problem: in theory, it is now programmed to turn a human into a TimeLord, but,” he showed her the watch, “ it lacks a core. It lacks the container for the memories; in theory, that means that your memories will remain intact, but in practice it might not work at all. It might break, or worse, you could get hurt. But I don’t know what else to do.”

She put the bag on the console and got closer without saying anything.

He kept biting at his nails and staring at the fob watch; he raised his eyes and they stared at each other for a while.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” her answer was straight.

“Really sure?”

“Yes.”

“100%?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to do it now, because we can alw-“ she shut him up.

They split a few seconds later and she stared at him, without saying anything. He traced his lips with his fingers and sighed, then whispered:

“Alright.”

He stepped near the console and pressed a couple of buttons, lowering the helmet; he slid the fob watch in his pocket. Rose got closer and looked at him, waiting for instructions, watching him clutching the Chameleon Arch.

“It’ll hurt.”

“I know.”

He let the device go and held her close, kissing her forhead.

“Rose Tyler…” here goes nothing.

“I love you.”

She tightened her grip. “I love you too.”

He choked a sob, moved away and took the helmet again; his hands were shaking as he put it on her head. It had been a long time since he had last felt his hearts beating that hard. Everything could have gone wrong. She could have died. The possibility of a life by her side and her firm look were the only things that gave him the strength to pull that lever.

He found himself holding a screaming Rose in less than a second; she was holding her head, was squirming in pain. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream with her. He wanted to raise that lever and convince her that what they had was enough, that the little time they had to spend together would have been enough, he wanted to hold her close and never let go.

His conviction kept wavering with every gut-wrenching scream that left her mouth, every tear that slid down her cheeks, and each heavy breath that managed to make its way among the cries.

Soon, he couldn’t take it anymore. He backed towards the console, but the hand that was reaching for the lever got instinctively up to cover his hear when Rose let out a scream louder than the others, so loud that his ears almost hurt; then she shut up, and remained silent. He turned around and gasped.

Rose’s eyes glowed with a golden light. That same light surrounded her, like it had done the day of his Regeneration, and was gathering in the spot where the fob watch was missing.

“Doctor…”

The light got blinding, and he saw nothing more.

Thump thump.

Thump thump thump.

Thump thump thump thump.

The Doctor rubbed his eyes, and the first thing he saw was Rose crouching on the ground, without the Chameleon Arch, clutching her chest. He ran in front of her, took her face in his hands and started examining her as best as he could, trying to understand if she was okay and if something had actually changed.

“Rose? Can you hear me? Do you feel anything different? Does anything hurt? All that light, Rose, it was…” he kept talking, but she didn’t answer any of his questions. She was simply staring at nothing in particular with a look of awe, then after a while she took one of the Doctor’s hands and brought it on her chest.

He stopped.

“I see it again,” she began. “Everything. And I remember—though this time it doesn’t hurt. It’s…”

He felt tears starting to form, as well as a smile; he laughed with such joy and hugged her so hard they both fell on the floor. They kept laughing, holding and kissing each other in pure bliss, until he raised his hand to shush her.

“Wait, wait…”

He slowly brought his ear where his hand rested before, and listened.

Thump thump thump thump.

Four beats. Two hearts. The rhythm that marked the two lover’s symphony, who were now dancing happily, aware that the song was far from its end, if there was ever going to be one.

#doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #tenrose #ten #the doctor #doctorrose #timepetals #tenrose ficlet #doctor who ficlet #dw #dw ff #dw fanfic #tenth doctor #rose tyler #tenth doctor x rose tyler #fanfiction #writing #doctorrose fanfiction #chameleon arch

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somekndofnature · 3 years ago

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No Other Way #6

I'm getting caught up! 2nd one for the @domaystic today.

Day 6: A Cozy Corner

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Rose

Rating: G

AO3

Chances We Take

“Urawr.”

The Doctor’s head popped the open grate beneath the TARDIS console, staring at one of the two Helvitrivan felines–appropriately named Shiver & Shake– that Rose insisted they ‘foster’ after their mother was killed by poachers. He wasn’t sure why he had agreed. Well, that was just a lie. He agreed because Rose asked, with an extra tremble in that plush bottom lip of hers.

“Urawr.” The kitten-like creature said again with a disgruntled look in those deep turquoise eyes.

“What do you want from me?” the Doctor asked, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

“Urawr.”

“Go find Rose and your sister.” He ducked back into the nest of wires beneath the console.

It was quiet for several seconds and the Doctor breathed a sigh of relief, tucking back into the much needed maintenance.

“Urawr, urawr, urawr, urawr, urawr, urawr, uuuuuurrraaaaaaawwwwwrrrrrr.”

The Doctor scrambled out from under the grating just in time for the animal to go quiet. “What is it?”

The feline’s long tail flicked. “Urawr.”

“What? What is it that you want?”

“Urawr.”

The Doctor pulled himself up to sit on the grating, wiping his hands on his pinstriped trousers. “I can’t feed you. Rose has a very strict schedule.”

The kitten looked up at him and tilted his head to the side. “Urawr.”

He sighed and picked up the small bundle of fur, duly named Shake, onto his lap. He scratched behind the overly large ears and along his back where the spinal flare of dark brown hair, that the breed was known for, stood straight and tall. The little animal chirped and placed his front paws on the Doctor’s chest, stretching up to rub his cheek along his jaw.

“Rose was right, you are an affectionate little thing. You always seem so stoic.”

Shake answered him with a deep purr.

The Doctor smiled and stood with the kitten in his arms. “Come on, let’s find Rose. Maybe it’s supper time.”

He searched their bedroom, bathroom, Rose’s studio, and the galley before the Doctor found her in the library. She was laying in front of the fire on a pile of pillows, chest rising and falling with steady deep breaths. The fan of her closed lashes was casting long shadows on her cheeks and the book that she had been reading had long fallen from her grasp.

Shake chirruped and squirmed out of his arms, jumping to the floor. He meandered over to Shiver, curled into Rose’s side, and collapsed on top of his sister.

The Doctor chuckled and turned to leave when another ‘urawr’ stopped him in place. He looked back to find Shake–there was no better word for it–glaring at him.

“What?”

“Urawr.”

“You want me to stay?”

He blinked slowly, purring loud enough for the Doctor to hear.

He looked down at Rose curled around the two kittens. Her face was lax and peaceful in sleep, cheeks colored a soft pink by the fire. She looked cozy and warm and oh so tempting. The Doctor dropped to his knees in the mass of cushions and laid down beside her. Nuzzling into her neck, he filled his nose with her gentle scent.

He had worked long enough, right? It was time for a break.

The Doctor wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling Rose tighter against his chest. He closed his eyes and sighed, allowing his thoughts to drift into unconsciousness; soothed by the gentle rhythm of Rose’s heartbeat and their new passengers’ soft purrs.

#domaystic2022 #day 6 #sfw #doctor who #tenth doctor #rose tyler #tenrose #ficlet #obligatory cat

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that-homoerotic-blouse · 4 years ago

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Jackie knows very well that her daughter and that daft alien are proper and complete bonkers, but she was very much NOT PREPARED for that night when she got up from bed at 2am, bursting for a pee and desperate to use the loo, but as she got closer to the bathroom she heard some stifled giggles coming from inside, and found a slit of light filtering through the closed door. Blimey, these two, didn’t they know they had a bedroom? Why, on the whole wide world, why somewhere as uncomfortable as the bathroom? Not even bothering to knock, as she braced herself for the sight, she opened the door, only to find the Doctor with his head in the sink, completely soaked in red, and her daughter, red hands on his red hair. Red, BLOOD! God, there was so much blood! His head, her hands, the floor, the sink! She barely registered their look of surprise as she fell to the floor pale as a sheet.

Jackie woke up later, to her daughter’s worried eyes and a very ginger Doctor holding her legs up, and she needed a cuppa as Rose explained something about hair dye and winning a bet and ‘I had never been ginger before!’ and just more of their usual gibberish that made absolutely no sense

#part of the collection:#of the times many times Jackie thought Rose and the Doctor were shagging #but were doing something immensely stupid instead #because they're dorks #does this qualify as a ficlet?#or a headcanon?#anyway #dw #doctor who #Tenth Doctor #rose tyler #tenrose #ten x rose #timepetals

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gingerteaonthetardis · 4 years ago

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Ten and nine fighting over who is Rose's favorite.

you know, nonny, i’m not sure that this is what you had in mind, but... i hope you like it anyway!

read on ao3.

𝔼𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕪 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕞 𝟡

She overhears them a little while before she usually goes to bed, a time when she can most often be found in the media room, channel surfing or hunkered down with a 25th century Hallmark movie. But tonight, she’d gone through her cup of tea faster than usual, and now she’s in search of another.

On slippered feet, Rose tiptoes past the entrance to the console room.

And it’s not that she’s trying to eavesdrop, it’s just that—

Well, she’s been thinking about that voice a lot lately. About how much simpler it used to be, back when she’d understood the Doctor to be something other than he actually is. When they used to flirt and she felt like it could mean something, maybe, down the line. Before that mess at the school, and Reinette, and the general impression she’d eventually gathered—with all her tragic human slowness, over time and through layers and layers of hints—that he didn’t precisely feel things the way she did.

Basically, she’s been nostalgic.

And when she hears him…

Well, she can’t help but listen.

“You’re being an idiot,” the hologram announces, “which must be why you’ve activated me: Emergency Program 9.”

The Doctor sighs, and the cable he’s holding spits sparks in protest of the increased oxygen flow. “Blimey, I forgot how rude I used to be.”

“Used to be?”

Oh, yes, the hologram is very witty. How could he have forgotten?

“Now, before you think about turning me off and going back to your sulking—”

“I don’t sulk.”

“Yes, you do. Now, shut up while I ask you a few simple questions to assess the exact manner in which you’ve been an idiot.” The hologram shifts on its feet and crosses its arms, both of which are habits he can distinctly remember having, but that no longer seem to fit. Like that leather jacket, which hangs melancholically in his wardrobe room. “Have you damaged, lost, fatally wounded, or otherwise annoyed the TARDIS?”

The flashing tips of the cables in his hand notwithstanding, the Doctor sighs and shakes his head.

“I can’t see you, by the way. Please give a verbal response.”

“No,” he grumps.

“Is that ‘no’ as in, ‘I haven’t damaged, lost, fatally wounded, or otherwise annoyed the TARDIS’? Or is that ‘no’ as in, ‘I refuse to give a verbal response’?”

“The former.” He is beginning to regret hitting that button, irrespective of it feeling necessary at the time.

“Right. Next question: Have you damaged, lost, fatally wounded, or otherwise annoyed a monarch, ruler, dictator, etcetera, who is currently holding you at knife-, gun-, wand-, or laser-point?”

“No.”

“Fantastic. Next question: Have you damaged, lost, fatally wounded, or otherwise annoyed yourself?”

What the hell does that mean? “I’m not sure.”

“How can you not be sure?” the hologram asks, sounding faintly disgusted. “It’s a simple question.”

“It’s not,” he replies. His hackles are up now and there’s nothing to do about it, so he forcefully starts to solder the cables back together for a distraction. Through gritted teeth, he says, “Let’s skip that one.”

“Fine. Next question: Have you damaged, lost, fatally wounded, or otherwise annoyed Rose?”

The sound of her name—in that old voice, no less—makes something twinge inside him, somewhere in the space between his hearts. He’d been so confident, that one, that she’d hang around forever and it had only been once he’d changed that she had begun to change herself. And that he’d begun to question it.

It was hard to put his finger on. Only it seemed like, where before she was as comfortably settled into their relationship as one could be, she was now probing for something, testing the waters, and he never knew how to deal with it. What did she want?

He realizes that he’s clamped the cables too hard and that there’s no flow between them. No chance of repairing the breakage if he doesn’t ease his grip. He loosens his fingers.

“Do I have to remind you that I can’t see you?” the hologram clips out. “Please give a verbal response.”

“All right, just give me a tic. Honestly, you really are quite rude. I can’t imagine why she liked you.”

At this, the hologram ripples a little bit—shivering, almost. And then it says, “Neither do I, mate. But I s’pose I’m lucky she did.”

“Yes, I suppose we are.”

There’s a faint hum of electricity under his hands, he can feel it almost as clearly as he hears it, though it would be undetectable to all but the most attuned of senses. The hologram, whether to fill the silence and follow its programming or for some other, indeterminate reason, speaks up again. “Based on your lack of response, I am assuming this program activation has something to do with Rose. Am I correct in assuming you have been an idiot to her?”

The Doctor hesitates. “Yes.”

“Of course you have,” the hologram sighs. “Well, you know what to do, then. You programmed me, after all. Apologize, and tell her you love her.” The Doctor nearly jumps at the word. Love. How easily the hologram—the old version of himself—can speak it. Like it’s nothing at all.

“It’s not exactly something I can apologize for,” he complains. “It’s more of an… everything’s messed up now and I don’t know how to fix it… thing.”

Once again, the hologram ripples. And it says, in the exact same tone of voice—so similar that he can be sure it’s the same sound byte played again: “Tell her you love her.”

Silence falls over the console room. There is nothing but the steady hum of life, of the TARDIS, all around him. And the faint static of the hologram as it flickers and ripples, susceptible as it is to the changing energies in the room.

“Do I have you remind you that I can’t see you?” the hologram repeats. “Please give a verbal res—”

But the Doctor rips out several cables. And the hologram disappears. In the new, ringing silence, he hears the faint sound of footsteps. They seem like they might be walking away. Or it could just be a trick of his ears.

He sighs. “I can’t.”

Three days later, it appears. It’s a seemingly random glitch, like the program had been slowly rebooting and was only now able to display again. He’s standing there at the console, his hands spread across several buttons while Rose lingers on the other side, clinging for dear life. She’s used to his rather bumpy lift-offs.

“Tell her you love her,” says the hologram of his old self, eyes burning with unnatural green light. “Tell her you—”

He finds the switch—it takes him a few seconds and he has to reach halfway round to Rose’s side of the console, but he manages. He slaps the big, red button with the palm of his hand, and the hologram crackles and fizzes away.

Rose, of course, is simply staring, her mouth open in surprise.

“What was that?” she asks, and he can hear her suspicion. It’s laced in every syllable.

“Nothing,” he lies.

He’s beginning to think the TARDIS is playing a very cruel joke on him. He’s actually sleeping for once when he feels something on the edge of his awareness, like the usual low-level telepathy of the timeship has had a spike of activity.

His eyes open, and in the corner of the room, he sees himself. His old self. Standing, green. Arms crossed irritably over a broad chest. “I’m beginning to think you don’t love her as much as I do,” it says. That’s not part of the script—and he should know, he wrote it. The TARDIS must be getting clever.

“You never said it!” He doesn’t know why he’s arguing with himself. Not even himself, really. Rubbing his eyes, the Doctor rolls out of bed and starts padding toward the console room, his ephemeral hologram trailing behind like a sullen, cranky ghost.

“She never asked me to,” it replies.

“She never asked me either!”

But that isn’t strictly true.

“Imagine watching that happen to someone who you—”

“What, Doctor?”

The memory fades from behind his eyes.

The hologram is unperturbed. “Tell her you love her.”

He stomps into the console room, heedless of grating that bruises the soft arches of his feet. He ought to get slippers, he thinks. He ought to get some carpeting in here. He ought to tear up the whole undercarriage and replace the bloody thing with—

“Tell her you love her.”

The Doctor starts to feel ill when he presses the button and nothing happens.

But he feels nothing but sweet relief when he takes his screwdriver—not the sonic, an actual screwdriver—and pulls up the red button, exposing the wiring underneath. He cuts it, and the picture fades.

He sighs, and he goes back to bed.

“Tell her you love her,” he says.

In his dreams, he is kneeling on the frigid floor of Satellite 5, his knees feeling thousands of years old. Like they might crumble beneath him. And Rose is glowing—all over, not just her eyes. Glowing so gold that it slips out through her pores, spilling over her skin like oil. She is crying slick, golden tears that leave a trail over her cheeks.

He could get to her, if he could just stand up. If he could just—

“I’m beginning to think you don’t love—”

But he does.

“Apologize, and tell her—”

He’s trying, he wants to say.

“She—can’t see you. Please give a verbal response. Please—Tell her—”

He wakes up coated in sweat, and he decides he won’t be sleeping again for a long time.

The Doctor looks tired. They’ve been going non-stop for weeks now, and the effort of pretending she doesn’t know why is taking its toll. But what else can she do, except run with him?

He’s just gone down to get some bit or bob from his workroom when she feels this tingle on her arms—the hair standing up on end, like she’s being watched. She goes suddenly, perfectly still. And then, she hears the sound of static.

“Rose,” it says. In that voice.

When she turns, he’s there. Her old Doctor. Only not. Everything is green and flat and faded. Nothing to touch or smell or smile at. He’s only an echo.

But still, she finds herself stepping closer. “Doctor,” she says, the word soft.

“Rose,” it says. And then a fizz, a flare. More static. “He—” and then something garbled, like listening through a tape being played at impossible speed, “love—’s—you.”

She’s standing close, close enough now that she would be able to smell the gunpowder and leather and tea on him. If he were real. Close enough to reach out and take his hand. “I know you do—or, he does,” she says, and the words make her tired to say, because she does not know. Not really. She can only guess, and hope.

“Rose,” he repeats. “Rose.” It’s laden with warmth, the way only he ever said it. Says it.

“Leave him be, please. He’s exhausted.”

But the hologram shifts on its feet, crosses its arms. The perfect impression of the domineering Time Lord he used to think himself. “Tell her you love her,” it says forcefully.

Behind her, she hears him say, “Rose?”

“I’m beginning to think you don’t love her as much as I do,” says the hologram. “Apologize, and tell her you love her.”

“Fine!”

She turns to tell him it’s okay, that he doesn’t have to, but he looks awful. He looks so exhausted. It’s a matter of instinct to dart across the console room and wrap her arms around his middle, burying her face in his chest. She knows he’s a little bit telepathic, so she tries to pour out every warm feeling she has. Contentment, love, acceptance, forgiveness, joy, relief. Everything, everything. She breathes steadily into him, willing him to understand.

She feels his warm breath fan out over the top of her head, and his arms slip up and around her. He pulls her tighter, closer. She can feel the tension in his ribs.

“Rose,” he chokes. “I—I lo—I do, I’m sorry, I—”

If she didn’t know better, know him, she’d think him possessed by something, by some being with its claws around his throat. He sounds so pained and strained, and though she doesn’t know why—she’ll never know why—she believes in him. In the words he can’t quite manage to say.

“Tell her you love her,” she hears, and she loves that voice so much—more than almost anything—but just then, she wants it to stop.

“Enough!” she cries, turning over her shoulder to stare at the hologram. “That’s enough. He has. All right? He has, and I know.” She turns back and buries her face in the lapels of his coat, inhaling the smell of strawberry jam and dusty books and home. “I know,” she repeats.

There is a moment of near-silence. Only static, and the Doctor’s hearts thumping against her ear.

“Good.”

And then the static sound dies.

“Rose,” he rasps, and the words buzz against her cheeks. “I promise—I—”

She interrupts him, unable to take the ragged sound of his voice. “I said I know. And I do. I know you love me.” His arms flex around her when she says the word. Love. How easily it comes to some, and not others. She pulls her cheek away from his chest and looks up; his face is blurred with her tears and she has to blink a few times before she can see him clearly.

His expression is open. Raw and open and—

Loving.

Terribly so.

She pushes up onto the tips of her toes, balancing her weight against him, and drops a kiss on his lips. He reacts so quickly that it makes her head spin, hands sinking into her hair, brushing the apples of her cheeks, cradling the back of her neck. They are everywhere, everywhere, and they are saying what he cannot.

She kisses him until she’s breathless, and then a little more after that. When their lips part, he is smiling. “Let’s go watch some telly,” she says, and he nods, and he squeezes her fingers. What he isn’t saying pours out through his hands.

That he loves her.

And she knows.

#ninerose #nine x rose #tenrose #ten x rose #(because it's both really)#(all of the above)#timepetals #ficlet #abbey.txt #thanks for the prompt!#sorry it's so darn late!!#ninth doctor #tenth doctor #rose tyler #dw

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dovand · 5 years ago

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tenrose ficlet (abt 350 words)

here’s the AO3 link if u wanna kudos it!

The Doctor stood in the middle of the Cyyzixrian hotel room, staring at the ceiling, looking very odd in just a tee and sweatpants. (He had explained the Cyyzixrian names for them but had been taking so fast Rose had no idea what they were actually called, and they resembled the Earthen clothes enough anyway.) Rose had barely ever seen his arms Exposed like this, and it almost felt wrong.

He had been pissed when his suit got mud (and some sort of alien slime (thanks for nothing, Kiiyrleigh)) all over it after what Rose was mentally referring to as the Cave With Giant Lobsters incident, and had stared at the water swirling round in the window of the washing machine for a good five minutes making the most pathetic of expressions while moping about it.

He also looked a bit ill, Rose now realised.

“You alright?”

The Doctor made a face, picking at the seam on his shirt. “Bit cold. Normally in the TARDIS I have the heating up plenty, and other than that I wear lots of layers, y’know? Cyyzixrian nightwear is... lacking. Gah.”

Rose made a sympathetic face, and patted the empty space on the bed. “Come on then, no use standing about being cold.”

He smiled gratefully and sat down next to her.

“What time is it?” she asked.

"No idea," he said, and picked his watch up from the nightstand to fiddle with it for a moment. “Seventeen PM.”

“...How long is a day here?”

“Uhh,” the Doctor said, making one of his brilliant Wait I Swear I’m Clever Just Give Me A Moment To Do Some Mental Math expressions (there were two variants: This Math Is Easy and Oh Fuck Oh Fuck Oh Fuck We’re Fucked). “Twenty-three? I think. We should sleep, at any rate. We need to get that money from Aerdwyin for Vanquishing The Giant Lobsters.”

Rose laughed. “Yeah.”

After about two minutes the Doctor stopped shivering, and after about ten they were both fast asleep, in a warm, safe tangle of blankets, and Rose felt more at peace than she ever had.

#i wrote this instead of sleeping #tenrose #doctorrose #also on ao3 #fic #mini fic #slashfic #FLUFF #doctor who #keep in mind i wrote this at 11pm while veery tired and half-asleep so uhhhhh #its very self indulgent #ficlet #i think it qualifies lmao

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quite-right-too · 1 year ago

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Prompt: “Wait, you can hear me?”

It wasn't unusual for Rose to stay in the console room while the Doctor worked on the TARDIS.

In fact, he found that he quite enjoyed the company.

She would sit on the jumpsuit, reading a book she carefully picked from the library. Occasionally, she would come by and sit with him. Legs dangling off the grating and under the time rotor where the Doctor would be fixated on some minor issue that, due to his procrastination, had turned major.

"What're you working on?" Rose asked. She couldn't help but stare, however, at the state he was in. On his back, his intense concentration exuded a level of confidence she loved to see. He had forgone his usual brown pinstriped jacket, wearing just a light blue button up shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to just past his elbows and his tie was removed, leaving the first two buttons on his shirt undone and exposing just the barest amount of chest. His glasses were perched precariously on his face, sonic between his teeth, as his hands were buried in the underside of the console.

Removing the sonic from his mouth, he continued to fiddle with the wires above his face. "Ah, nothing too important." The Doctor winced as sparks flew over him. "Just trying to tune up the multi-loop stabilizer. It had become a bit detached from the synchronic feedback circuit and has been why we've had some increasingly bumpy landings."

"So it's not just your bad driving?" Rose teased. He rolled his eyes as she grinned down at him.

"I am not a bad driver. I'm a brilliant driver, actually."

She scoffed. "Are not! Dare I remind you about about the trip to see Ian Dury in 1979 which turned into fighting literal werewolves in 1879? Or what about-"

The Doctor cut her off abruptly. "Wait, you can hear me?"

"Of course I can. You're laying right there?"

"Rose," the Doctor said, siting up and pulling himself up from under the console to sit next to her. "You don't understand. You heard me. What did you hear?"

Sighing, she stared him down. "Doctor, I just heard you say that you're not a bad driver. 'M not hard of hearing yet."

"The problem, Rose," he stated seriously, "is that I didn't say that out loud."

Send me a sentence prompt and I’ll write you a TenRose ficlet!

#my fic #hope the length is okay #thnks fr th asks #tenth doctor #my post #rose tyler #doctor who #tenrose #ten x rose

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artist-in-a-tardis · 5 years ago

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I hope this doesn’t break your heart too much.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler,�� Eleventh Doctor & Rose Tyler Summary:

A short one-shot depicting how the Doctor feels before and after leaving Rose Tyler with his Metacrisis.

#dw #doctor who #rose tyler #tentoo x rose #ficlet #tenrose #tenth doctor x rose tyler #eleventh doctor

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nabwastaken · 12 days ago

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okay if you show me proof you voted tenrose i will write a ficlet abt anything you want your choice

Tragic Ships Tournament Round 2

Propaganda under the cut!

Tenrose:

"Oh my god they're so. ugh. they mean literally everything to me. From the wiki: 'They frequently bring out the best in each other, supporting and uplifting the other person, comforting them, and sometimes just acting totally giddy to be in each other's presence. They both display their trust in the other person's capabilities on numerous occasions, and seem uncommonly matched.' HOW CUTE IS THAT 😭😭😭😭 . BRO HE LITERALLY SAYS I LOVE YOU TO HER AND THEN FLIES AWAY. OH MY GOD. BEING THE DOCTOR PREVENTS HIM FROM MAKING ACTUAL CONNECTION BUT THAT DOESNT STOP MY BOI. OGH AND ALSO " “I made my choice a long time ago. I'm never gonna leave you.” ROSE WTF"

Jedas:

"I don't know enough bible lore to explain but I was hoping someone who did could post propaganda for it in my stead but I NEED them in this tournament. They are perfect for it."

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asarahworld-writes · 7 years ago

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Yellow Muffins

@timepetalsprompts for Banana ‘nut’ bread and apple on the new bingo square

“Oi!” The Doctor yelped, clutching his now-stinging reddened hand to his chest. “What’d you go and do that for?”

“They’re still cooling, you daft alien,” Jackie said, crossing her arms. “Just took it out of the oven.”

“Wait,” he eyed the steaming loaves with suspicion. “They are banana breads, aren’t they?” Jackie, still cross, didn’t answer. “Thought you couldn’t cook,” he said snidely, trying not to let on that his hand still hurt.

“Managed Christmas dinner well enough, thanks,” Jackie bantered back easily.

“Might’ve added a new setting to the sonic,” the Doctor smirked.

“So it does turkey?”

“Care to find out?” He waggled his eyebrows, looking so much like a lost puppy that Jackie had to stifle a laugh.

“Not particularly.” Jackie eyed the Doctor suspiciously.

“Where’s Rose?”

“How should I know? You see more of her these days than I do,” she snapped. Then, “she’s in that box of yours. Changin’ round some of her things. Pictures and the like.” Smirking at the Doctor’s shocked expression, she continued: “She does live in the box, doesn’t she? Spends more time there than here, that’s for certain. Why shouldn’t she have her keepsakes with her?

Because she’s going to stay with me forever. But I’m still going to lose her and then I’ll have boxes and boxes of her things and I won’t be able to cope with the loss.

“No reason,” he replied airily. “I just don’t usually have passengers on the TARDIS who actually move in.” It was true – though his companions often stayed onboard for at least one (relative) year, they often lived entirely aboard the ship without personal belongings.

“I said to wait until they’ve cooled.” Jackie swatted the Doctor’s hands as he once more reached for her cooling loaves. “If you must stick your fingers in something, try this,” she handed him a yellow muffin. Smirking, he took a large bite of his muffin, which was very nearly the same shade as a perfectly ripened banana. And promptly spat it out, frowning.

“It’s apple,” he cried, petulantly throwing the muffin at the rubbish bin.

“What’d you expect, custard? Of course it’s apple, it’s fall, they’re in season.” Jackie crossed her arms, shaking her head at the daft alien’s antics. Rose came out of the TARDIS, rucksack over her shoulder.

“Those smell amazing, Mum,” she sank into the chair, reaching for her own muffin. Jackie threw a look at the Doctor, who made a face at her before turning to Rose.

“Ready to go?” He beamed.

“Where to?” Rose’s face split into a grin.

“How does the Moon sound?”

“You come back soon,” Jackie pressed. Rose smiled, hugging her mother tightly.

“I love you, Mum.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Jackie shook her head. The Moon. Sighing, she grabbed a muffin and was about to taste it when she noticed that one of the banana loaves was missing. Already, the TARDIS was making that wheezing noise that meant it was coming and going. It was like having a five-year-old in the house again, except five-year-olds couldn’t disappear into time-and-space whenever they did something ‘wrong’.

#timepetalsprompts #timepetals ficlets #ficandchips #tenrose #jackie tyler

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