OH god I ship this so hard but the relationship would suck because she could only speak and move when he wasn’t looking… But he would trust her enough to turn his back OH GOD THE FEELS SOMEONE FIC THIS
This is adorable.
When he walked into the room, it was too quiet and too dark. Quickly, he pulled out his sonic screw driver and started to turn in a circle in order to scan for any life in the room. As he was spinning, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.
Something with wings.
Something hiding its face.
The Doctor knew he only had milliseconds before the Weeping Angel would reach him and feed off of his time energy. Wielding his sonic screwdriver, The Doctor spun to face the angel. however, what he saw when he faced the angel almost caused him to blink…almost.
Instead of clawed hands and a snarling face, The Weeping Angel was reaching out towards The Doctor with a longing expression on her stony face. Even though her face was illuminated by the blue light from the sonic screw driver The Doctor recognized her features any where. Leaning in too examine her pained face The Doctor only managed to whisper, “Rose?”
Even though she couldn’t answer with him looking at her, The Doctor knew it was his Rose. She had the same curved lips, the same round face, the same nose that he always touched when she sassed him. “Rose Tyler, what happened to you?”
The Doctor knew that if he wanted an answer, he’d have to close his eyes.
“I’m trusting you, Rose. Please. please still be my Rose.”
Slowly, The Doctor closed his eyes and as soon as he was left in the darkness he felt his chest tighten and a cold hand placed itself on his cheek.
“Doctor,” she spoke as soft as the petal of the flower she was named for, “My Doctor, oh how I’ve missed you so.”
Thanks for the mini-fic, Satan.
NO THAT HURTS NO STAHP IT
THAT’S NOT WHAT WE WANTED
why did you feel that necessary
It hurts, but…now I sorta want a full-length fic, because that is a damn intriguing set-up! How would they fix it? What happened? Would I sound creepy if I wondered about how they could use a blindfold for intimate moments, or how you could work in wing!kink moments? Could we have scenes of her kissing the back of his neck?
Oh gods, someone please draw me Weeping!Rose hugging the Doctor from behind or kissing the back of his neck!
sorry not sorry
She didn’t know how it had happened.
Just that it was sunny, and the sky was an aching clear blue. She was wandering the grounds of her Jackie’s friend’s estate- studying the huge marble mansion and biting her lip at how everything was so different. Then, she turned around, ready to leave the garden. Her eyes fluttered shut, just for a moment.
Then something cold landed on her bare shoulder, and she tried to scream, but that freeze was pooling through her bones- choking her voice away. Her whole body stiffened, as her head ached and blazed and you cannot consume me, I am infinite I am Time I am the Vortex itself-
She was thrown into something, something liquid and dark, spiralling back and ripping through space until she hit the ground hard, and the sky was no longer blue, but studded with stars. Rose raised a hand to her eyes. She was weeping.
Her hands were made of stone.
She tried not to eat too many people.
If you could call it that. But god, she got hungry, craved that golden essence that everyone trailed behind them. Young ones were the best; college kids that had decades ahead of them. She never sent them to bad places. She never took children.
And somehow, when she moved quick-silver fast past mirrors, it was her own face-albeit stone and grey- that stared back at her. It might have been framed by fearsome teeth and huge wings, but she was still in there, still Rose. The Time Vortex in her was keeping her human, sort of.
Sometimes, when people looked at her head on and she couldn’t move, she thought about her old life. About her mum and Tony and Pete and Mickey, about eating ice-cream and kissing and sunburn and all the things she left behind when something pulled her into a statue and across universes. Most of all, she thought of him. The Doctor. Mad and miserable and pinstriped, spinning them through time and space.
But slowly, as Rose consumed more, as she jumped from place to place, as she drank up infinite possibilities, she thought she might be forgetting. Might be losing what little humanity she had left.
She missed having a beating heart.
He found her in 1965. She was lying in wait in a pretty two-storey house in California, hungry beyond belief, and when she heard someone coming, she prepared to hunt them down. Mindless and quick and almost merciful.
But then a pair of brown, shocked eyes were staring straight at her, and she was frozen. In horror, in relief, in humiliation.
“Oh, god, Rose,” he whispered, and she would have gone to him if she could, just at that grieving, terrified note in his voice. “What…”
He reached out a hand, but it hesitated in mid-air, his whole body leaning in towards hers. And then he did something stupid, something that made her almost yell at him.
He shut his eyes.
Her wings got in the way, and she must have been freezing, but he managed to return her tentative hug, his palm touching her cheek. She went against all of her nature not to consume him.
“This,” he said quietly, voice thick and still with his eyes shut, “this is not how I imagined finding you again.”
Me either, she thought, and wished with all of her stone-heart that it had happened differently.
He told her to stay put, to not move an inch until he comes back. And then, with a look that seemed to crush his frame, he walked away from her, hands clenched into fists.
So she waited. Time was nothing to her now, not like this, not when she was a monster. It slipped from her chipped fingertips, and it could have been an eternity or seconds until she heard the groan and whirr of the TARDIS.
He stepped out with his eyes shut and a crumpled shirt, hair mussed impossibly and his palms open. “Hello,” he says, and there’s that forced cheer, that smug ‘I’ll fix it, Rose’. “Figured it out, well, course I did- I’m clever.”
He inched closer across the floorboards, reeking of Time. Rose forced herself to stay still, until he was touching her. Warmth seemed to suffuse her. The Doctor smiled. “You know, I rather wonder what’s going to happen if I overload you.”
No, she thought, but he was bleeding his soul into her, all of his years and experience and memories colliding and breaking in her mind. It crumbled and crashed and was too much, so much and she was going to shatter here, as light glowed and glowed and she couldn’t-
She woke up on the medical bed, and the way he leaned in and took her hand in his almost made up for the dozens of people she’d hurt.
“How did you know it was going to work?” she asked him quietly, and he sent her a sad smile, brushing his knuckles along her palm.
“I didn’t,” he replied.