wrath of the oncoming storm

Sin, Love and Destruction

Written for the @timepetalsprompts weekly drabble prompt ‘lust’.

Nine/Rose, Ten/Rose, Rated G, 879 words, Angst

Summary: Every culture, every morality, every religion that the Doctor has ever encountered has had some version of the Seven Deadly Sins. The Doctor is guilty of all but one. 

The Greeks describe four types of love, but he’s only ever entertained three.

Until a small, blonde human takes his hand, looks up at him and says, ’there’s me.’

read it on ao3!

Originally posted by cooltennant

Every culture, every morality, every religion that the Doctor has ever encountered has had some version of the Seven Deadly Sins.

Sloth, greed, envy, lust, pride, gluttony, wrath.

He’s known as the Oncoming Storm, a title he’s perversely satisfied with.

You can tick off pride and wrath, there.

He’s been slow to act before, and though he’s mostly a generous sort, he’s been known to take without giving in return. More than once.

Sloth and greed.

He has always found himself jealous of the humans’ freedom to show their emotions at will and has allowed himself, at times, to indulge unreservedly in the very un-Time Lord-ly behavior of feelings.

There you have envy and gluttony.

But the one sin he’s never allowed, the one transgression he’s not permitted himself, has always been lust.


The Greeks describe four types of love, but he’s only ever entertained three.

Agape - the unconditional love, as god loves man.

Philae - love as one friend loves another.

Storge - the stable, solid love of a family.

He’s allowed those types of love in his life before, with people he’s traveled with. He’s permitted himself to foster the apelike, platonic affections they show each other, and enjoyed them. When he inevitably lost the companions he cared about, it was always incredibly painful and he always swore he’d never do it again. But invariably, he succumbed once again to the pull of emotions.

He did not, of course, allow himself to entertain any thoughts of eros, the erotic, amorous love. A Time Lord must have some limits, after all.

Then the Time War happened, and he swore off all happiness for himself. He didn’t deserve it. He deserved the black, torturous hell that his mind had become, and any reprieve from it was unthinkable. He was unworthy of redemption. He could never earn absolution. He would never deserve the love he’d enjoyed before. Instead, he wallowed in the bitterness and loneliness of his own mind.

Until one small, blonde human looked up at him and said, ‘There’s me.


It’s not even lust, really, although that’s certainly a part of the complex emotional attachment he has to one Rose Tyler. To be honest, he’s always been a renegade, refusing to follow the path of the Time Lords - but now he’s wandered so far afield that he’s tripped and fallen headlong into love.

For nine centuries, he’s balanced and juggled almost all of those sins and almost all those loves. With this one woman, he allowed himself to commit all of them when he fell from grace and into love with her.

He swells with pride every time she takes his hand, and every time he shows her something and she looks at him as if he hung the moon, like he’s so impressive, he is self-satisfied. He craves more of that look in her eyes, needs more of her admiration, and when he earns it through some impressive show or another he basks in her approval, soaking it up.

His hearts burn with jealousy every time any young man looks at her. He does his best to hide it, but knows that he fails. He lashes out - sometimes even at her - his anger and fear of losing her overriding his good sense. Nothing soothes him besides the gratification of her always returning to him, always taking his hand, always looking him in the eye and letting him know that she’s his.

He regrets his inaction for so long, not telling her just what she meant to him and how much he meant to her…not letting her know that while she was looking at him as if he hung the moon, he was fully convinced that the sun, moon and all the planets actually revolved around her. Gods knew that she was the center of his universe.

He loved her.

Now, though, he knows that the sin that has pushed him over the edge into ruin is lust. He’s loved before, he’s lost before. The pain of those losses were nothing like this, and it’s entirely because of the completeness of his love for Rose Tyler.

He loved her in every way it was possible to love another person.

His love was unconditional. He wished nothing but good for her, always. Agape.

He loved her as his dearest friend. He loved her as his equal. He loved her virtuously. Philae.

He was empathetic to her, his love for her strong and stable like a tree with deep roots. Storge.

But these types of love were nothing new. He’d felt these many times before, and withstood the loss of the people he felt them for.

No, the problem was that he’d loved Rose Tyler intimately, their bodies rolling together in joyful, sweaty tangles. He’d loved her because she was beautiful, gazing at her for hours while she slept beside him. He’d loved her passionately, his hearts burning for her. Lust. Eros.

And while he’d committed most sins before in his lifetimes, and he’d loved in most ways, he’d never loved and sinned in every possible way until Rose Tyler.

Now, as he stands in a ruined room with his face pressed against a blank wall, he knows that eros and lust have spelled his destruction, and he will never, ever recover.