dw fic

Trying || Oneshot

Title: Trying
Rating: K+
Pairing: Rose/Metacrisis
Summary:  Making the decision to start a family should have been the hard part. Unfortunately, it was only the beginning.

Warning: Story deals heavily with infertility.

Note: Written for this ask over @dwficrec.
Also, this story is completely unbetaed. So seriously, don’t send me an ask just to say “you forgot a comma in the third sentence of the fifteenth paragraph.”

AO3


Negative.

Again.

Rose dropped her head in her hands, trying desperately not to cry. She’d taken the test without the Doctor this time, because she was so tired of seeing that split-second of disappointment flash across his face before he jumped into supportive husband mode, saying what was at this point a well rehearsed speech.

Well we’ll just keep trying won’t we?  It only takes one time, we’ll get there eventually. Don’t give up. Half the fun is trying, right?”

Rose was honestly sick of hearing it.

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The Time Lord’s Wife  (teaspoon | fanfiction | tumblr)
written by ErinNovelist

Before the Doctor can regenerate into his eleventh body, Bad Wolf gives him the chance to go back to New Year’s Day in London, 2005 to meet Rose Tyler and change his future. However, he only has three months to convince her to fall in love with him before his ninth self comes to take her away on the TARDIS. Is three months enough to convince someone to spend their forever with you?

There are people who say that they saw a man walking on the beach. A tall, skinny man in a brown pinstriped suit. Some people that have gotten close enough swear they could hear a very faint voice repeating one word, just one word–

Rose.

Although, some people say they could hear another word after that one, too.

Rose, I–

and then the man would vanish.

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Title: Grey
Word Count: 1.8k
Pairing: Doctor (Twelve) x Rose
Summary: The Doctor drops Clara home for a little R&R. The place is right, but the timing is way off. Little does he know, it’s 2006, and Rose Tyler is awaiting pick-up after a visit with her mother. This is one visitor the Doctor did not expect. 

“Right, there we are.” The Doctor rests his hands on one of the numerous levers the TARDIS has, and rests his weight against the console.

“Sure it’s the right place this time?” Clara asks, sauntering up to him, a mischievous smile on her face.

“We’ll it’s certainly not Glasgow.”

“Or?” she prompts, in her best teacher-voice, but largely unable to keep the amused smile off her face.

“Or Dublin, or Bristol, or Birmingham,” he finishes begrudgingly. “The universe is a big place, you know. Forgive me if I miss occasionally by a few miles.”

“Try a few hundred.”

“Look,” he says pointedly, tilting the monitor so she can see outside the TARDIS. “Right outside your flat building and everything.”

She’d asked to be dropped off on a Saturday this time – two days of good old fashioned rest and recovery should be enough to recharge her batteries for another alien adventure.

Clara nods and purses her lips, with raised eyebrows to look impressed. “Looks about right. That looks like a new playground, though.” She points to the screen. “Otherwise, same old, same old. I’ll see you tomorrow night, yeah?”

He nods, and watches her go. This whole pickup/drop-off system is new to him, but he’ll get used to it. He misses having someone around all the time, someone to hear his incessant ramblings – or, get up in the middle of the (artificial) night to tell him to shut up. But it’s fine, mostly. A little lonely, but fine.

It occurs to him that he now has time to fix whatever’s making the TARDIS’s aim so off, and quickly clambers underneath the console to examine it. He holds the sonic screwdriver between his teeth as he fiddles with wires and circuits and all manner of other, very complicated scientific things.

He hears the door opening, and assumes it’s just Clara, having left something behind.

“What’d you forget?” he calls, though it’s mostly indecipherable with the sonic screwdriver still stuck between his lips.

“Been redecorating?” a voice asks. It doesn’t sound like Clara.

“Clara?”

“Who are you?!” a startled voice says, now directly behind him. He jumps, trying to stand up and whacking his head on the underside of the console. “What’re you doin’ in the TARDIS?” It’s a she, the voice.

“I think the better question is,” he starts off as he begins awkwardly trying to stand up without colliding with something again. “What are you doing in the – ”

He stops dead.

He grips the metal now behind him for support, knuckles white, the sonic screwdriver clambering to the floor.

He knows the voice that is demanding answers of him. He spent countless sleepless nights listening to it ask him questions about the universe’s vast expansiveness, and heard its ringing laugher at even the worst of his jokes. He knows the lips that are twisted into a grimace before him – oh, how he wishes he had known them better. The blonde hair, the bright eyes, and the fire. He knows them all.

Rose Tyler is standing in front of him.

“I—I don’t understand,” he stammers.

“What, that one a bit too complicated for you there, mate?”

“I don’t…I don’t understand,” he repeats, sounding increasingly distraught.

“What’re you doing in the TARDIS?”

“I don’t – what year is it?”

“Answer me!”

You answer me!” the Doctor snaps, letting his aptness for bickering get the better of him.

“I asked you first!”

“I asked you second!”

“Blimey, you don’t make it easy, do you?”

He pauses, and scratches his head. “I s’pose not, no. I get that a lot actually.”

Her frown melts away like that, and something clicks. Frustration and hostility become curiosity and wonder. “Doctor?”

Mid-exhalation, his breath catches in his throat, because oh, it’s been so long since he has heard her say that. He feels the sting of approaching tears in his eyes.

“Rose Tyler,” he replies, hardly more than a whisper.

“’s 2006. You dropped me off to see my mum two days ago. Well not you, you. My you. Erm…my – my Doctor.”

“Your Doctor indeed.”

“S’pose that wasn’t two days ago for you, then.” She says it so casually, and he is totally baffled for a second. And then he remembers. It has been two days for her. That’s all, just two days. 48 hours. For him, it’s been lifetimes. Multiple lifetimes.

He’s not a hugging person, this version of him. But he doesn’t care. In an instant, his strong arms wrap around her middle, pulling her close to him. She gasps in surprise, but quickly melts into him, and it makes his hearts soar. And he would be perfectly happy to remain like this forever.

“You’re real,” he whispers into her hair. “You’re real.”

She pulls away, but not fully; his hands still encircle her forearms. “’Course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He avoids her gaze, staring at the console.

“Doctor,” she presses. “How long has it been, for you?”

The answer falls from him before he can stop it. “Oh, I’ve lost count of the years. Must have been centuries, now.”

Her heart rate speeds, and she wonders what could have happened to tear them apart, but she reconsiders: humans grow old and die, he said it himself. Maybe that’s what happened to her. Maybe.

“Yeah, I can tell,” she jokes instead, reaching out and touching his face. His eyes flutter shut when her skin meets his – not from pleasure, but from the desire to absorb the memory as clearly as possible. “You’ve gotten old. You’ve got…lines. And you’re all…grey.” She fingers a grey curl and smiles, if a little sadly. Her digits trace the lines etched by time into his skin. “Never thought I’d see you go grey before me. Mum started really early – been bleachin’ ‘em for years, she has.”

He laughs at the thought of Jackie. And then he feels sad, because he never did see her go grey. He never saw her youthful face grow withered with time. Maybe it’s for the better, he tries to tell himself – it might help him remember her in a certain way. But it’s no use, the thought alone only tells him that he was robbed of time with her. He only hopes his metacrisis double is seeing it all play out.

“Still just as handsome, mind you.”

There’s a silence, and they’re all wrapped up in each other, his hands still on her arms, and hers still resting on his cheeks. And his eyes are the same. Old or young, he carries the same weight around with him, the same shadow of regret and of things long lost. It had always been what made her know that, no matter how young he appeared on the outside, he was not a young man. This new face, to her, carries a truth with it. A face weathered as the universe itself is weathered. But a beautiful one all the same, because stars still shine, and things move on.

“Doctor, can I ask you something?” she asks, after a long time, taking a step back.

“No.”

“No?”

“I know what you’re going to ask me.”

“You can’t predict the future that well,” she teases.

He sighs. “Very well, ask away. But no promises.”

She sucks in her lips, forming a straight, thin line with her mouth. “So how come you’re a Scot now?”

He smiles, and then delivers her a proper answer, because she deserves that if nothing else. “I don’t know…it sort’ve just came out that way.”

“Out of what?” she asks, confused.

“Out of a dinosaur, actually.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

She seems satisfied, but he can’t help thinking she isn’t done.

“Rose?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s not really what you wanted to ask me, is it?”

She looks guilty. “No.”

“Well, there’s no point in neither of us knowing, now, is there?”

She smiles. “Do I –”

“I’m not talking about your future. Fixed timelines…complicated stuff, Rose.”

“You can answer this one.”

“No, I can’t, I really can’t! You wouldn’t under—”

“Do I ever tell you?” she spits out before he can stop her. It hangs in the air for a while before he says anything at all.

“Tell me? Tell me what?”

Her gaze falls to his lips, and then back to his eyes. He knows what she means.

“Oh.” He straightens his suit self-consciously. “Yes. Yes, you…uh, tell me.”

“And?”

“And what?”

She almost laughs, it’s so absurd. “Do you tell me back?”

He feels a pang of guilt, and obviously it’s clear that he does because her face falls.

“Rose, it’s not –”

“What happened?”

“I shouldn’t tell you.”

Please, Doctor. For me.”

And of course he can’t resist her asking. Of course it’s everything he ought to do, after how he left things. Or, how he was going to leave things, depending on whose perspective is examined.

“All of time and space…” he whispers, his voice failing him. “And time ran out.”

A thousand questions flood her head, but she says nothing. She will find out when it is time. And, if she’s learned nothing else, the future can always be changed. But this is his future, and his present.

“So who’s Clara?”

His eyes go wide. “Blimey – Clara! She’s eight years away from home! We’ve gotta go find her, we’ve – ” They’re almost halfway out the door before he realises he’s grabbed her hand to take her with him. He looks apologetic. “Old habits, I suppose.”

“Very old habits.”

And all of a sudden he is sad again, because she is there and he can’t take her with him and the door is the next place she will inevitably go.

“I better be getting back before my Doctor comes back and finds me missing.”

He nods, not able to manage much else. Goodbye the first time was hard enough. And the second. Third time’s the charm, they say. The carefree teenager on New Year’s Eve hurt every bit as much.

“Do me a favour,” he finally says, “and don’t tell past me what happened. Last thing I need is to accidentally create a paradox.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “See you later.”

“Not ‘goodbye’?” he questions.

“You hate goodbyes.”

“Wonder why,” he remarks drily. But he pulls her close again, and ever so gently kisses her forehead. He knows it can’t be more than that – this is a stranger’s face to her.

She opens the TARDIS’s rickety door and looks back over her shoulder before stepping out into the world.

“Rose?” he calls. “Just for future reference, even though I didn’t get to tell you – ”

“Doctor, it’s okay, really.”

“But I did, Rose. I…I do.”

She grins, and in her youthfulness, she turns, and runs towards the estate, back to her Doctor, her TARDIS, and the destiny that awaits her. And he does. Oh, how he does. How he hopes she knows that when the time comes – and when it runs out. 

a madness shared by two (ten/rose, 1/?)

This can’t be right. Absolutely can’t be. Because the Doctor is one-hundred-percent certain that he would remember shagging Rose Tyler. And he doesn’t.



The Doctor wakes up in a bed he doesn’t recognize.

That’s not really what throws him, though. Even if the unfamiliar location is a little disconcerting, he’s woken up in far, far stranger places than a comfortable bed with soft sheets and plush pillows. At this point, if he wakes up in an unfamiliar place that isn’t immediately identifiable as a prison cell or a laboratory (of the evil persuasion), the Doctor generally counts it as a win.

No, what really throws him is the fact that he’s waking up at all. He’d slept for a few hours just two days ago, and he shouldn’t have needed to sleep again so soon. And yet he’s definitely been sleeping. As far as he can tell, he hasn’t been drugged, or knocked out, or subject to any of the plethora of unpleasant things which can induce unconsciousness in a Time Lord. There’s nothing foreign lingering in his system, no chemical aftertaste in his mouth, no residual pain from a physical altercation. There’s just the familiar sensation of his brain kicking back into gear after a period of rest, along with the ache of his muscles protesting when he starts to move towards getting up and out of the strange bed. And – well. That’s…different.


 He doesn’t usually sleep naked.

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fic: Cardiovascular

In a small town just out of Bergen, the new Doctor goes for a walk to clear his head.

Ten II/Rose. 3k, PG. On Teaspoon once approved, and AO3.

The Doctor was terrified.

It was an odd sensation, being scared liked this. It was different from the type of fear he was used to – the fear of death or Daleks or being unable to prevent some sort of catastrophe. That particular brand of fear was so much a part of his everyday life that he was quite used to it, and more than able to channel it into genius or productivity or adrenaline. He’d lived with that sort of fear so often, for so long, that some people probably thought he liked it. It was a motivator, something that kept him running even when he otherwise might have stopped.

This was different. This was terrifying.

He laid on his back atop the hotel bed sheets, staring up at the ceiling through the dark. The room was silent apart from his own breathing and the perpetual drip-drip coming from the bathroom sink. Some part of him – some human part – thought that probably he should go to sleep. He could almost feel it, that unfamiliar sense of physical exhaustion, and he knew from years of observation that human bodies tended to perform poorly without rest. If he didn’t sleep now, he’d have to the next day, and likely for longer. It would be optimal to sleep now.

But his stomach was a tight, uncomfortable knot, his heart felt like it might burst from his chest, and he couldn’t seem to turn off the dozen questions playing on loop in his mind. Could he really live like a human? Who was he, really, without the TARDIS? What would he do each day, stuck in the same place and time?

What the hell would he do if Rose decided she didn’t want him?

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While some of the world’s greatest athletes join together in Sochi, Russia for the Winter Olympics, some of the world’s finest fic writers will gather here to participate in the first-ever New Who Fic Olympics!

Just like in the actual games, Olympic ficletes will compete for their countries and teams. The teams are divided by pairing (such as the Australian Ten/Rose team or the American Amy/Rory team), and there is a General team for those who do not wish to write pairings. 

Members of each team will then participate in up to two events: Conservative Curling, Junior Ski Jump, or Lusty Luge. The events correspond to fic ratings (all ages, teen, or adult), and ficletes enter/participate in the events by writing a fic with that specific rating.

At the end of the games, all fic will be placed in polls by team and event (ex: Canada’s Ten/Rose Lusty Luge team will compete against all other Ten/Rose Lusty Luge teams, etc.) and voting will begin. The top three ficletes for each category will receive medals, promos, and love.

Registration: Ficletes may register here until Feb. 6.
Opening Ceremonies: Feb. 7. Fic may now be published!
Closing Ceremonies: Feb. 23. No more fic will be accepted past this date.
Polls Open: Feb. 24.
Polls Close: Mar. 7.
Winners Announced: Mar. 8.
How to Participate: Sign up, write your fic(s), and either post them to your blog and tag them “nwficolympics” or submit them here (submit box will open Feb. 7). Make sure to send me an ask when you post your fic so I can reblog it!
Fic Length: Fics must be at least 500 words and can be as long as you want!

If you have questions, the FAQ can help! If you still have questions, feel free to drop me an ask here, or over on my main blog. I’m here to help!

pineapple (tentoo/rose, ficlet)

“You fantasized about preserved fruit?”

(g, tentoo/rose, post-je ficlet).



He blurts it out in the middle of a Tesco, while holding a tin of cubed pineapple.

“This was a fantasy of mine, you know.”

Rose looks up at him questioningly, brown eyes searching his with affectionate confusion. “Tinned pineapple? You fantasized about preserved fruit?” She taps a finger against her mouth – her lovely mouth, pink and soft and probably still tasting of the tea she’d had this morning. He wants to kiss her, wants to see if he can tell how many sugars she took in it by how sweet her lips are. “Actually, knowing you, that’s really not that surprising.”

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Silence of the Sound || Oneshot

Title: Silence of the Sound
Rating: K
Characters: Human!Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler
Genre: Fluff/Friendship/Romance
Summary: –Human AU– Rose Tyler has been deaf for as long as she can remember. And she’s happy with her life. It’s not always easy, but it’s hers. The addition of John Noble doesn’t make it better, per se. But it certainly enhances it.

Note One: Based on this by perfectlyrose​.

Note Two: It has recently come to my attention that I have something of a…reputation for angst. Needless to say, I was rather surprised by this. So have a 95% angst free story. See, I know how to write nice things too.

Note Three: This is pretty unbeta-ed. Please don’t review just to point out mistakes.


Rose Marion Tyler was born at 4:32 a.m. on April 27, 1987.

And she was perfect.

Her awestruck parents spent hours cooing over her, counting her fingers and toes and poking her little button nose and playing with the tuff of hair she’d been born with.

She was perfect.

It was six hours before anyone realized something was wrong with her. It could’ve been longer — it could’ve been months — if not for a clumsy aid knocking over a tray of equipment right outside Jackie Tyler’s hospital room. The metal tray and instruments crashed against the linoleum floor, creating a ruckus that would’ve been scared any newborn and made them cry — and as a matter of fact it did set off all the babies in the surrounding rooms.

But not Rose. Little Rose Tyler slept peacefully, much to the suspicion of her parents and the doctor.

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The DW Character-Driven, Totally Devoid of Plottiness, Bits in Between Fic Challenge

Because it’s summertime, and because I know I’m not alone in always wanting more more more character content from my favorite show, I’ve decided to put together a bit of a ficlet challenge for you and I to complete this summer. 

I want well thought-out characterization–write about Amy’s love of art or how Rose deals with seeing her father die twice or Donna’s insecurity, etc. It’s your chance to flesh out the characters we all know and love to pieces, to inject a bit of that secret headcanon into fanon, and to breathe even more life into these fascinating and breathtakingly real characters.

Who is Clara’s best Earth friend? Where does River live when she’s not onboard the TARDIS? How did Martha cope while stuck as a modern black woman in the racially charged London of 1969?

If there’s ever been an episode or storyline that felt incomplete or subpar character-wise, change it!

Now for some ground rules:

  1. Write as much or as little as you want. Honestly, you can write a series of three sentence drabbles, if that flies your TARDIS.
  2. Tag your work with dwbitsinbetweenfic
  3. Keep your fic character-driven!
  4. Any rating will do. Smut away! Or don’t.
  5. Get your fic done by August 31st.
  6. Bonus points for working the word callipygian into your fic.
speech patterns (tentoo/rose, ficlet)

“Over nine hundred years, remember? I think you can assume that at some point I’ve picked up a bit of colorful language.”

(teen, tentoo/rose, post-je ficlet).



The first time Rose hears him use a curse – one that isn’t what the hell or damn, which, when compared to the sort of things she was hearing on the estate when she was still in primary school, hardly qualify as profanity – she’s so surprised she nearly drops a plate.

She’s in the kitchen of her little flat, putting away the dishes after finishing some washing up, when there is a sound like a firecracker going off from the vicinity of the dining table. It’s quickly followed by a voice that is unmistakably the Doctor’s, angrily muttering “well, that’s just fucking wizard.

The minor explosion doesn’t faze Rose in the slightest. The curse, however, has her whipping around as if physically pulled towards the source of the sound.

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Beautiful Disaster (1/2)

Title: Beautiful Disaster
Rating: K+
Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff
Word Count: 4930
Pairing: Vague hints of Ten/Rose
Summary: After losing her parents, Rose is struggling not to lose custody of her brother – the only family she has left. Thankfully she’s not completely alone in her struggles.

Notes: Based on this prompt posted on @timepetalsprompts​. This was meant to be one a shot but then it ended up being over 8,000 words so I decided to split it up into a two shot. Enjoy!


It was just a temporary basis. A trial period, the social worker said even Rose clung to Tony, holding him tight against her. They’d pry him out her cold, dead hands. But it was clear the social worker – whose name Rose couldn’t even remember but she was tall and stern and obviously looking down at Rose like the young blonde was below her – had no faith in the twenty year old’s ability to responsible for her five-year-old brother.

And maybe she was right not to.

Tony never starved, of course – Rose did sometimes, but that wasn’t important. He never wanted for food, he got new shoes when he needed them, he got to school every day, he always had his homework done, and as far as Rose could tell he was happy – as happy as any little boy could be after suddenly becoming an orphan, anyways.

Sure, Rose’s life was falling apart. But Tony was safe and not bouncing around in probably abusive foster homes. And that was all that matters.

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Wrong Number || Oneshot

Title: Wrong Number
Rating: K+
Pairing: Rose/Tenth Doctor
Summary:  –AU– Phone calls at 3am from hysterical women aren’t exactly something John Noble is used to. But he’s never been one to turn down a woman in need.

Warning: Mention of domestic abuse

Note: For @perfectlyrose, on this, the anniversary of the day of her birth. Love you Kelsey! I’m sorry I suck at being a friend!


John yawned as he rolled over to his phone ringing. Donna must be drunk, he thought blearily as he groped for his mobile, not even bothering to look at the ID as he answered.

He didn’t get a word out before an unfamiliar voice launched into a tirade. “I don’t know what to do, she won’t stop crying, she’s been crying for hours Mickey, I haven’t slept in days, I’m exhausted.”

She finally stopped, and John blinked before saying, “Um…I think you have the wrong number.”

There was a beat of silence, save for a faint crying John could pick up on the other end. “Oh my god. Oh my god. I am so sorry, my mate just got a new number, I must have mixed them up, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay, it’s okay!” John said quickly. He felt bad, the woman seemed so frazzled. He could at least try to help. “Um…who want stop crying?”

M-My daughter,” the woman said, voice catching, and John had a feeling she was about to start crying. “She’s been crying for hours, I don’t know what’s wrong, I’ve fed her, I’ve changed her, I’ve been holding her and singing to her but she just won’t stop, she didn’t nap today, I haven’t had a break–”

She cut herself off with a small sob, and John heard the baby crying in the background get louder.

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The Lonely Blue Box
Author: atimelordswife
Country: USA
Team: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Event (rating): Conservative Curling
Words: 1,011
Summary: After saying goodbye to Jackie after the Battle of Canary Wharf, the Doctor learns a lesson.

Written for the 2014 New Who Fic Olympics.

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episode fic meme: Rise of the Cybermen/Age of Steel

Ages back I did a meme where people sent me DW episodes and I wrote a ficlet relating to it. pulledacross gave me “Rise of the Cybermen/The Age of Steel” and… now four months later, it’s finally done.

~1500 words of mostly fluff.

The Doctor lingered in the hallway by the door to Rose’s bedroom, unsure what he ought to do next.

They’d been staying at Jackie’s for two days now, ever since the TARDIS had made it back to its rightful universe with one fewer occupant. Rose had spent most of that time with her mother or her friend Shareen, and the Doctor had done his best to give her a wide berth. Accident or not, it was his TARDIS that had landed them on that parallel Earth, and that meant he was partially responsible for the fallout.

He’d hoped some time back home would help her recalibrate, but he was beginning to wonder if that had been a mistake. Maybe being here was just causing her to wallow. Perhaps they’d be better off traveling, reminding her what good the TARDIS had to offer. That was the conventional wisdom about horse riding, wasn’t it? If you let one fall deter you, you might stop riding altogether.

Or maybe those were his own insecurities bleeding through.

This might be precisely what Rose needed. What did he know? His own coping mechanisms certainly weren’t always ironclad. Maybe what was best for Rose would be if he backed away unnoticed and left her in peace.

“I can feel you staring, you know,” she said, gesturing with her head for him to come join her.

Well, nevermind.

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it's a bit dodgy, this process (twelve/rose)

The Doctor, for his part, looks at Rose like she’s a ghost, completely fixed on her even as he clutches at his side in obvious pain – and even as she notices, with numb horror, that golden light is starting to shine just beneath his skin.

(Rose, jumping with the Dimension Cannon, happens upon Eleven as he regenerates).



The jumps are getting harder and harder.

It’s not that they’re getting more physically difficult. Using the Dimension Cannon has never been a walk in the park, and no matter where or when she travels to, it’s always pretty much the same – an unpleasant swooping sensation in the pit of her stomach, a metallic tang in her mouth, and a pounding headache that lasts for hours afterwards.

It’s that the worlds she’s traveling to are getting more and more terrible.

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A Beautiful Mistake || One Shot

Title: A Beautiful Mistake
Rating: K
Pairing: TenToo/Rose
Summary: It wasn’t planned, of course it wasn’t; nothing they did was ever planned. But as far as the Doctor was concerned their daughter was the best mistake he and Rose could ever make.

Warning: Baby!Fic


It wasn’t planned. But nothing they did ever was.

“Pregnant?” The Doctor repeated numbly. “How?”

“I think it might’ve been that campground where we had the cops called on us…” Rose hesitated. He wasn’t exactly happy. She’d expected shock but she’d also figured joy would settle in eventually.

They had never talked about kids – the Doctor kept  meaning to find out out if they were actually biologically compatible enough to have children together. He just kept forgetting. Neither had given it much thought, really. They had too many other things going on.

Well it might’ve been time to talk about it.

“Oh,” the Doctor said stupidly. “The uh…the campsite. Right. Um…” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to think. “So um…pregnant.”

With every word he stuttered Rose’s heart dropped further and further. He wasn’t happy. He was probably horrified at the thought of being tied down with a family. Why would he ever want that? He was probably already planning his escape. Their TARDIS would be done soon…

“Yeah. Pregnant.”

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A good night’s sleep

Pairing: Ten x Rose

Rating: Everyone and their grandma ;)

Words: 800ish


The ‘prompt’ for this came courtesy of @moltobenebananas, who also looked this over for me and helped with the title. Thank you, twin <3

This is my contribution to April Fools Bodyswap (and also the first time I publish any of my writing, be nice lol).


Rose lay alone in bed, angrily staring at the ceiling. 

The Doctor, free from the pesky human need to sleep, was off to do some tinkering, somewhere around the Tardis. Up until about a week ago, he’d have stayed with her, even if he didn’t sleep. But since his regeneration, he’d stopped doing that, for reasons Rose could only guess at. Trying to get things back to what they’d been before, she had hinted again and again that she’d rather he stayed with her during the night, even if he didn’t sleep, since she felt so much better with him by her side. But, as usual, the thick alien hadn’t caught her drift and she couldn’t quite come straight out and say it either, afraid to sound needy and clingy.

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She’s laying on their bed when he returns from dropping Clara off.

It’s different this time though; she knows he can see her, so when he collapses on his back, she curls herself around him, head on his chest and her hand pressed over his left heart. He buries his face in her curls; she smells like old books and time and a little like vortex manipulator smoke.

“I’m still connected to the TARDIS,” she murmured into his shirt, nose nuzzling against his bowtie as she answered his unspoken question. His reply was a simple kiss to the top of her head, his nose nestled in the darkened curls.

“You don’t really think I left you like a book on a shelf, do you?” he asked in a voice so quiet she wouldn’t have heard it had his mouth not been by her ear. She sighed quietly, still curled around him, hand stopping its soft stroking movements.

“I understand why you do what you do, Doctor,” she replied softly, voice heavy with words she’ll never say aloud. “And I love you regardless. But I’ve missed you, my love. It’s hard to move on without so much as a goodbye.”

Her voice stresses the word ‘missed’, and he feels his heart constrict just like it had in the tunnel when he’d heard her speak to Clara. He squeezes his eyes shut, hugging her harder against him.

“I’m sorry, River,” he whispered, dropping kisses into her hair and over her forehead and temples, cupping her face in his hands. “I’m sorry I can’t let you go like I should. I love you.”

He whispers the last three words against her mouth before sealing them with a kiss that steals her breath.