Another Prompt for you friend: Forest Nymph Rose Tyler, in her floral house meeting a poor lost adventurer Doctor of your choosing (bonus points for including a reference to other companions as her 'sisters' because they're also nymphs just of different kinds)

hey, thinky, i LOVED writing this. that’s really the only excuse for it being over three thousand words long. also, i went with the ninth doctor, because… well, you know why. hopefully you enjoy this fevered, unedited little daydream.

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𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕓𝕖

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The hour was late when he stumbled through her gate.

He should not have been able. He should not have been close enough to throw stones, let alone to wander in with his hulking human footsteps, leaving muddy tracks through her garden. But it little mattered what should and should not have been; the fact remained that he came in the night.

She had duties to attend to before bed. Small things. Strengthening the stems of her night-bloomers. Wishing a good evening to her moonflowers and rain lilies. Reminding the lilacs to save some sweetness for the morning. In a garden this size, one could spend all night wandering and only return to the house come dawn. But it was late, and Rose was tired.

(She could be forgiven, then, for her reaction.)

She gave a final adieu to the evening primroses.

(If he had only called out—)

(But he did not. He caught her by surprise. And so she was most ungracious.)

He came into the little clearing. The space between her home and her garden, filled with tidy grass and a hutch, where she kept her cow, Beau. She was just wishing her bovine companion good night when the man appeared. He came out of the mist, and through her garden—one moment shrouded and silent, and the next with all the rumpus of those who walk heavy on the earth.

He was large. Tall. Towering. It made her feel afraid.

“Who are you?” Rose demanded, trying not to sound fearful. But her body betrayed her, as did her power. He was so close to her plants, to her friends. He stepped toward her, arms outstretched—no doubt, he meant to tread carefully—but the vines went to him before her sense did, tangling around his dirty boots. Holding him fast. She was stronger than she knew. The vines hurried upward in a tangled bramble, shapely and spiked. “Don’t move another step.” Her voice shook.

The man spoke. “I couldn’t even if I wished to.”

He had a very human voice. Some call their sounds rough, or harsh. Unnatural.

But Rose could not bring herself to think so.

His voice was earthy—it reminded her of sweet, loamy soil, overturned and exposed. And yes, he was gruff. He sounded unused to speaking.

“Who are you?”

“A tired traveler, too long on the road.” It didn’t sound like a lie.

She approached, her footsteps soft and even and right on the ground. How humans got around in such hard-soled bodies was beyond her. But then, much of their world was.

She stopped at the border where garden met grass, her body between him and the cottage.

“Why are you in my garden?”

The traveler did not answer immediately. 

(And so, perhaps, she can be forgiven for this, too.)

Her vines reared back, as if in threat. Or, not as if—they were impossible to mistake. Thorns have a purpose in a garden, and so did they in her power. The spikes sharpened, lengthened into spears, and they pressed against his chest. Against where, she had heard, the human heart lay.

“Tell me,” she pressed. Her thorns pressed. Her fear pressed.

“Because I am lost, lady, and your flowers bloomed so brightly.”

She looked over his shoulder, at his path. The bootprints were easy to spot. And admittedly, he had not crushed anything. 

Unconscious of doing so, she smiled at her flowering friends. At the trembling-overflowing-with-life-vernal-softness of it all. Even in the dark, the garden did emit its own sort of light. He had seen it as a beacon? A guide, perhaps, to light his way in this moonless night.

It should not have been possible.

(But it was.)

Her vines began to loosen. She watched as the man shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable. “You can come,” she said. “You can stay. For one night, only.” She held up one finger.

In the darkness, he smiled and his teeth gleamed lily-white.

“To whom do I owe my thanks?”

Her head tilted. “To me.”

The man laughed, and it was a good sound. Like something shooting up out of the ground, though perhaps out of season.

“And what am I to call you, lady?”

Rose turned on her heel, and with a delicate flick of her fingers, the vines gave way. They reshaped, rounded into a bush. And from it, blooms. Pink and sweet. 

Roses.

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Blindfolded. NinexRose. Destroy me! Thank you :)

In hindsight, the Doctor realizes he hasfallen right into Rose’s trap. She’d teased him about his supposed superior TimeLord senses, and he’d had to go and brag about being able to smell strawberriesfive kilometers away. When she’d challenged him to a guessing game, his honour was on the line; After months of travelling with her, he was still hell-bent onproving to her that he was, in fact, so impressive.

Which is how he found himself with Rose inthe thinking room,a room specifically designed to offer as little stimulation as possible so asnot to distract him, only a padded floor and dim lights gently fazing throughthe colours of the rainbow.

Oh,and she blindfolded him. 

“No peeking,” she joked, smoothing the fabric over his eyelids.

Itstarted innocently enough, he had to guess a flavour, a scent or an objectplaced in his hand. The problem, he quickly realizes, is that with no stimulito distract him, Rose becomes the main stimulus. 

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Hi Skyler! I just want to say how much I adore your stories! One of my favorite prompts is: Rose/Tentoo, "You don't have to stay." I read a few from other authors and they were all great. If you're interested of course, could you write a drabble or a fic, please? I would love to see your version.

YAY!I’m so glad you love my stories and what a huge honor that you want to see myversion! :D This made my day! Let me see here… Well, there’s always theclassic post-JE angst in the car leaving the beach, but I kind of did that here…But what would happen if they had an accident on the way? Hurt-comfort ahoy,shippers. 

The lastthing Rose Tyler remembered was being slammed into the new new Doctor’s side ashorns blared and glass shattered. But currently it was very dark and she waslying in a bed that didn’t feel like hers. As consciousness returned, sherealized it was dark because her eyes were closed and the beep of her monitoredpulse told her she must be in hospital.

Sheforced her eyelids open, causing the man holding her hand to exhale in reliefand whisper her name. It was the Doctor. Of course it was. She tried to smilefor him, to let him know she was fine. She must have at least partiallysucceeded at the smile because he squeezed her hand and said her name again.

“I’mright here, love,” he murmured. She tried to sit up, to ask him what happened. “Shhh,no, no. Stay right there. You’ve been in an accident. Well, we all have, but Ihad enough regeneration energy left in me to avoid injury and your mother wascompletely fine. The lorry missed her entirely, but you got the worst of it, I’mafraid.”

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