#tenrose au

[thirdeyeblue]

A couple of weeks ago, I received this ask:

It totally escaped my mind to mention this, but somebody already has published a TenRose AU as a novel!

More Than Christmas by Tabitha Strickland (AKA the author formally known as) TimeLadyoftheSith

I know I have many readers who are big fans of hers, so please support your favorite artists! Buy her novel 🩷 The world is dark and creators need your love more than ever!

[fleurdazed]

tenrose AU in which somehow both ten and rose end up with memory loss and then their friends take it as an opportunity to convince them that they're already dating/married.

[quite-right-too]

do you have any of the smut yet? even just a first draft? /please/

I do, actually. I just got “inspired” last night and wrote the entire first draft. There’s already 3700 words. This the first smut scene I’ve written, so the beta for this is super important. Here is a little snippet from that chapter.

“All this for me?” she whispered into his ear, gripping his cock through his bottoms. “I take it you’ve been thinking about me?” She grinned into his neck as he nodded, hips bucking into her hand as she rubbed him. Her thumb swiped across the head, feeling him leaking slightly and causing a wet spot to form in front of his pyjamas. He could feel her teeth and tongue on his collarbone, slowly making their way up his neck. He couldn’t help the guttural moan that escaped his lips when Rose deftly worked him through the fabric. She bit down lightly on his earlobe, her hot breath against his cheek. “Good, because I’ve been thinking about you.” Oh, that did it.

A growl ripped from his throat as he grabbed the back of her thighs, urging Rose to jump up and wrap her legs around his waist. She did just that, burying her hands into his hair and nipping at that bottom lip she’s always stared at while he walked them over to his bed. Nearly stumbling on a pair of his trainers that had been carelessly discarded on the floor, they giggled against each other’s lips lightly before sharing another deep kiss. The front of his knees finally hit the mattress, depositing her onto the soft sheets.

REMEMBER, THIS IS THE FIRST OF THREE DRAFTS. IT IS VERY CHOPPY AND THE SENTENCE STRUCTURE ISN’T GREAT. THERE WILL BE A MUCH BETTER VERSION WHEN THE CHAPTER IS POSTED.

[life-in-the-tardis]

Thinking about writing a “The Librarians” au for TenRose. Smart, eccentric, hyperactive know it all constantly running head long into danger with his blonde counterpart that always seems to be the solution and will destroy anything that threatens her smart weirdo.

[elsinore-and-inverness]

To Everyone I’ve Loved Before

@invisiblerobotgirl

Chapter 3. Last Summer

I checked myself into a hospital last summer upon realizing that I was too physically and mentally ill to recover on my own. I don’t want to go into that too much. Don’t want to bring the mood down.

In a very on-brand move, once I was there I (erroneously) decided I didn’t need to be there anymore. But then I met Martha Jones, who was studying medicine at the time. I unequivocally owe her my life, mostly for being a friend to me even at moments when I probably didn’t deserve it.

I wrote her a letter and kept it in my pocket at the time. It’s a wonder I didn’t lose track of it, especially in the days when I was meant to stay in the hospital pajamas.

Dear Martha,

You are extraordinary, and you were the person I needed when I was at some of my lowest points. And I know- I know it wasn’t, and is not, your job to save my soul, but that is what you did.

I know I’d just met you, and was probably not entirely in my right mind, but in retrospect I did mean that kiss, and I’m sorry for having made such a mess of everything.

I want you to be happy and safe and part of my life, but things are still raw and strange and I don’t know where I stand yet. Come what may, you have my mobile phone number.

Love,

The Doctor  

I saw Martha again on that same Tuesday, on the train going home, and she told me she had been going out with Mickey Smith, who had previously been dating Rose Tyler, for several months.

“Who’s Rose with, then?” I wondered.

“I don’t know, but he got tired of her mooning over some Chemistry and Philosophy grad student.”

I felt myself blush. “But she’s… that’s just little old me… she’s going out with someone else.”

“Irving sent the letters, didn’t he?” Martha inquired, perceptively.

I felt myself blush even more. “He… Do you ever have moments where you realize that maybe things aren’t quite so big a deal as they are in your head?”

“How many were there?”

“Seven.”

“All delivered?” she asked.

I shrugged helplessly.

“Maybe I should write Mickey a letter.”

“I kind of wish at least one of them was on purpose at this point.”

“You’re not that brave.”

“No, I’m not.”

-----

Chapter 4. Jealousy 

I was getting increasingly worried. I wasn’t sure what Rose could possibly be thinking of me, or when I would see her again.

Finally, after some deliberation which consisted of me sitting on the edge of edge of my bed staring into space for I don’t know how long, I took out my phone and texted her.

I kissed you so Jack wouldn’t think I was seeking anything from him. There were multiple letters. They weren’t supposed to be sent. 

Then I threw my phone under the bed. A few seconds later I heard it vibrating and fished it out again. There was a text from a number it didn’t recognize. 

I’m gay

Who is this? I typed. Was this a rejection or a proposition? 

Grace Holloway. Did you not save my number to your phone?

Grace. Of course. Sorry.

A text from Rose popped up at the top of the screen. I clicked it open.

I understand. Actually… what would you think about trying to make Koschei jealous? He just broke up with me.

I stared at the screen. Koschei Oakdown? Koschei was my oldest friend, rival and erstwhile lover. I’d known him for as long as I could remember. I wasn’t sure what exactly we were rivals for at this point, but if he’d done anything to hurt Rose… Trying to make him jealous was possibly not the best idea, but at the same time- I’d always sort of figured I was the person he thought about when he thought about love. What was he playing at?

What did you have in mind?

You could pretend you’re going out with me, just for a few months.

Can we talk about this in person? It’s kind of a lot to take in.

Of course.

I set down the phone and tried to slow my hammering heartbeat. The thing was, I’d written Koschei a letter too.

Dear Koschei Oakdown,

I can’t get you out of my head. Do you remember the games we would play in detention? Taping bits of paper underneath the desks? I feel like that now. Like I’m waiting to notice something. Waiting for something to change.

Some nights I wish I didn’t remember holding you in my arms. Or that you smelled like tobacco and pain.  Sometimes I’ll see clothes that I think you would like and my chest hurts and I just stand there. Looking.

There’s a normalcy with you. I know you’d hate me saying that, but there is. When we’re together we’re ordinary. We're not brilliant or awful or successes or failures. The version of me that you know is completely unembroidered. I wish I didn’t miss you.

Love,

The Doctor

Koschei hadn’t broken up with Rose because of the letter, had he? Oh dear. This really shouldn’t be my fault on both ends. I drummed my fingers on the wall. What was I going to do?

[megabadbunny]

some kind of AU where Rose dates her superior, The Doctor. Could be student,teacher or worker,boss or whatever you want

Hey there nonny!!! I’m sure your interest in my fill for this prompt died a long time ago and its corpse is now gently crumbling away to dust, for which I deeply apologize. The thing is, while I totally understand why folks like AUs, they’re not my thing (I tend to be a stickler for canon or canon-divergent stuff, with the exception of fem!versions of the Doctor), and after a series of former jobs with male supervisors who were, well, kinda dickbags a lot of the time, I’ll admit I had a hard time getting over that and struggled with this prompt quite a bit. (Seriously, I’ve been working on a response to this for two and a half years now!) However, because I do have stuff written, and it seems a shame for it to just languish away in my WIPs folder untouched by the light of day, Imma go ahead and post what little I did manage to get written over the last 28 months. And here’s the dilly: if someone else sees it and feels a mighty need, I’d be more than happy to send them my notes or do a bit of collab with them if they’d like to pick up the trail from here!

<3 <3 <3

pygmalion’s revenge

Rose Tyler is, in no particularorder, 24 years old, British, white, female, a stage actress, a former gymnastand current runner, a connoisseur of chocolates and films starring Idris Elba andColin Firth, and, despite being a dreadful flirt, just a tad bit dense when itcomes to picking up on signs of a certain nature.

The epiphany smacks her like a handto the face, dawning on her sometime in a grey morning in her tiny London flat.Evidence of a job hunt is spread over her dinged old kitchen table, a smallmountain of newspapers and printouts with her laptop sitting pretty andvictorious at the peak, all of them hiding pockmarks and coffee-rings andsomething that looks suspiciously like a cigarette burn which Shareen swears upand down that she knows nothing about. Rose stares at it all while hersleep-lagged brain tries to decide whether her mouth wants tea or coffee. (Teais the obvious answer, and the likely victor, but sometimes a mug of foul-tastingjet fuel is just what she needs to get through the morning. “Morning person”does not number among the many things that Rose Tyler is.) And while her eyesstare and her eyelids droop and her brain pontificates, even though it’s gotnothing to do with anything, somewhere in the back room of her subconscioussome part of her just realizes.

The Doctor is totally, completelyarse-over-heels in love with her.

“Jesus, Jack,” she asks, withoutpreamble, the moment her flatmate steps into the kitchen, “Am I an idiot?”

Jack’s resounding laughter letsher know that yes, in this particular case, “idiot” ranks very high on the listof things that Rose Tyler is.

***

Rose firstmet the Doctor when she was 19 years old, neither a gymnast nor a runner norsomeone with even her A-levels, working a dead-end job at Henrik’s. She hadnabbed the position in an attempt to chip away at theseveral-thousand-pound-debt incurred by a year of irresponsible living with agood-for-nothing boyfriend. (Thanks, Jimmy.) And the day she met the Doctor, shehad just clocked out at the end of her shift and stepped into the ancient lift,so absorbed in her fashion magazine with some silly name (Belle or Metropolitanor Splendor or some such rot) that she didn’t even look up when the doorsopened and someone joined her.

She frowned.There it was again.

This time thetext was splashed in white across a model’s bright blue jumper—“Bad Wolf.”Those words kept popping up everywhere Rose looked. She saw them spray-paintedon bins, printed on takeaway menus, in big black letters outside stuffy-lookingoffice buildings, on the bottoms of pink and yellow nail polish sets. Thephrase had popped up everywhere seemingly overnight. What was this obsessionwith Bad Wolf, and more importantly, whydid no one else seem to notice it?

“I wouldn’tbuy that one,” a chipper voice informed her from somewhere to her left. “Thecolor is nice, but the lanolin acids present in such a wool-heavy blend arelikely to cause some unpleasant contact dermatitis.”

Rose openedher mouth to politely tell this gent and his posh Estuary accent to mind theirown business, but fortunately, her eyes moved faster than her lips; she foundherself staring at a bloke who, despite being so thin that a hard look mightknock him over, was pretty enough to make her heart trip on itself. Academictypes didn’t usually do it for her (there was something about their snootyvoices and prim manners and patronizing attitudes that grated on her nerves,somehow). But, looking this fellow up and down as subtly as she was able, eyescataloging everything from his spectacles to his wild hair to his freckles tothe ever-so-slightly tatty brown pinstripe suit—paired with Chucks, no less,who wears Chucks with a pinstripe suit?—Rose felt that perhaps she could makean exception this time.

“Thanks,professor. I’ll keep it in mind,” she teased as the lift lurched and lumbered upward.

“What makesyou say I’m a professor?” he asked, mouth twitching in amusement.

Sheshrugged. “S’just a joke,” she replied, but halfway through her sentence, itoccurred to her that the fellow was looking at her in a very specific way, andthat gave her pause. He wasn’t leering at her like the lads on the sidewalk, orsneering at her like gentlemen in suits were oft wont to do. Instead he waswatching her almost like—

Like she wasonto something.

Rose’s eyestracked him over. “I guess the specs look sort of professor-ish,” she offered.“Wearing a suit, too, brown and not too fancy. Nothing wrong with it, but youwouldn’t catch it at Harrods. And you’ve got a bunch of student papers stickingout of your briefcase,” she said, pointing at the worn leather case danglingfrom one hand.

“What makesyou say they’re from students?” he asked, a smile hiding in the corners of hiseyes.

She was definitely onto something.

“Well,they’ve got grades on them, don’t they?” Rose asked. “Gotta be students.”

His facesplit in a wide grin. “That makes sense. Well done.”

“Thanks,”Rose laughed, and she was only being a little sarcastic. “Did I pass the test,then?”

“With flyingcolors.”

Both of themsmiled at each other, and Rose felt just the tiniest twinge of regret when thelift arrived at its destination. The doors slid open, the bell chimed out aloud announcement, and neither Rose nor the professor moved away.

“Well,” theprofessor said, fidgeting a bit in his plimsolls. He tilted his head toward theexit. “Got to run. See you around, maybe?”

Not if I see you first is what Rose thought.

“Sure,” iswhat she said.

With acheeky grin, the professor stepped out of the lift and walked away. He didn’t seemto notice the paper that fluttered in his wake, drifting out of his case andfloating lazily, featherlike, to the floor.

“Wait,” Rosestarted, scooping the paper up in her hand, but the doors were closing and theprofessor didn’t turn back. Rose quickly gave the paper a once-over (it couldbe rubbish, but what if it was a student’s assignment, what if the professorhadn’t graded it yet, what if that poor sod ended up with a 0 through no faultof their own?) and was surprised by the words she found at the top.

OPEN CASTING CALL

And a littlebelow that:

For George Bernard Shaw’s

PYGMALION

At the Blue Box Theatre

Rosefrowned. Open casting? She wasn’tsure what that meant, exactly, but it was obviously something to do with aplay. Had to be a play if it was in a theatre. Right? Was it like auditions?(And if it was like auditions, why didn’t it just say that?)

The liftdoors opened at her destination and Rose balled the paper up in her hands,compressing it neatly into its own little cragged-edged world. She tossed it inthe rubbish bin without a second thought.

…but she didhave an individual thought, on its own, not two seconds later, which encouragedher to pick the paper right back up.

(No harm inchecking it out, right?)

***

A quick few minutes of Googlingshow her everything she needs to know. Jack is happy to supplement the rest.

“A bit familiar, isn’t it?” heteases, looking over her shoulder while she types. Normally she would beinclined to tell him that that’s a load of bunk, and then outline preciselyjust how much bunk that is, but the parallels seem pretty undeniable.

“Pyggies was years ago,” Rosesays in a protest that they both know is feeble. “This doesn’t mean—”

“Rose,” Jack interrupts, gently.“It means.”

Rose worries her lip while shescrolls down the screen. Jack’s right. Of course he is. But that doesn’t makethings any easier. It doesn’t make hurt feelings unhurt or apologies magicallysaid.

But.

“He’s trying,” Jack says.

“What, you his agent, now? Mostpeople get paid for a job like that.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Look, Iknow he’s an idiot. Everyone knows. Hell, even he knows. But you also know he’smore than that. And even if it’s a stupid gesture…at least it’s a gesture.”

Rose stares at the screen somemore. Open CastingCall, it says. Born Yesterday, it says. Seeking ExceptionallyTalented Woman (Character Experience Preferred), it says.

“Those American accents are goingto be dreadful,” Rose says.

***

They’ll tellyou that you should never go into an audition unprepared, but Rose didn’t knowthat yet. Besides, she never really cared much about what They tell you.

(Also, shestill wasn’t entirely sure she was going to audition at all. Or so she toldherself, standing in front of the Blue Box Theatre with a crumpled flier in herhand. Maybe she had only shown up to see what the thing was all about.Certainly she had not shown up hoping to get cast, definitely she wasn’t hopingto see the intriguing professor-bloke again.)

“The queuestarts round the back,” a Scottish voice popped up, and Rose turned to see ayoung redheaded woman leaning against the blue brick wall. Her hair fell aroundher face in curtains, her legs were impossibly long, and the casual way shedragged smoke out of her cigarette made Rose’s fingers itch.

“Sorry?”

“The queue,”the girl repeated, as if repetition would encourage understanding. “It’s roundthe back.” She gestured with the cigarette, trailing ash in its wake. “Thatway.”

***

And that’s it, folks. If you’re interesting in picking it up, let me know and I’ll send you my notes! <3 <3 <3

[sapphicalexaandra]

jalec as ten and rose = journey's end

(confirmed that you meant doomsday) 

Happy birthday, dear! I still don’t know whether to hate you or love you for this prompt, because tenrose and jalec??? my otps, a perfect match! 

But the feels, man…

Basically, you know who to blame for this angst fest ;) (and i might’ve expanded it a bit, i hope you don’t mind!) 

This Is The Story of How I Died

The breach wasfinally open, and Dalek after Cyberman after Dalek were being sucked right intoit.

Alec, foras long as he had been the Doctor, had known that celebrating victory before duetime could only end up in crushing disappointment…and yet, this time he trulyfelt that they had done it.

As him andJace held on for dear life onto their magnetic clamps, everything was about tobe over so very soon. And they couldgo back to their adventures in all of space and time.

The Doctorand Jace Herondale, together, in the Tardis. As it should be.

…Of course,of course, fate had other plans forthem.

One of thelevers that kept the breach open had shifted from its place; the portal wouldclose before they had gotten rid of all their enemies!

Jace, ohJace, brave, brilliant Jace, he leapt from the safety of his hold, managing tograb the lever and struggling to put it back in place at the same time that theforce of the pull from the breach was so strong.Alec could only watch him with widened eyes, his two hearts pumping with astaccato beat that had nothing graceful about it, as he hoped, prayed to ahigher being that he knew didn’t exist, for his companion to succeed. For thingsto work in his favor, for once!

Jace did it, the lever was back in its place,the breach would remain until it had enclosed every last…

Alec’s armstwitched around his hold, as his eyes almost popped out of his head, becauseJace’s fingers were slipping.

“JACE! HOLDON!!” he shouted, desperately, over the noise of the magnetic force.

Had he everbeen more desperate in his life? He must’ve been, right, but…

Sounds of strainand fatigue were coming out of Jace as he fought against the pull drawing himtowards certain death.

“HOLD ON!”Alec could only repeat.

His andJace’s eyes met amidst the madness, and time seemed to slow down. Jace – thefirst face this face saw, his companion, his lover, his everything…

A shout hadbuilt deep in him even before Alec saw Jace lose his hold, but when it came out, it was like never before, histhroat burning around it, as Jace’s own scream mirrored his own…

“NOOOOO!”

It wasover, he had killed another one, Jace was going to be stuck in the Void forever,and Alec was never going to see him again!

A darkfigure appeared. Stephen Herondale, as alive as he was in the parallel universethey had visited, was right in front of the breach, and he grabbed Jace a splitsecond before he teleported them both away. As soon as they had vanished, Alec’sscream finished its course just as the last Dalek was pulled in, and the breachclosed after it. Forever.

Jace wasalive. He’d live a full life, with a bit of luck.

Alec shouldfeel at least partially happy, as heslumped down on the ground, completely spent. But he felt only…empty.

Entirely,utterly void.

Alec gotup, his movements slow, as if he had no energy to do more, and he approachedthe white wall. It was just a simplewhite wall…but it hid behind it everything that he had lost. Alec pressed ahand, then his face against it, listening in to nothing that he could everhear.

The Doctorand Jace Herondale, together, in the Tardis, was no more.

“TAKE MEBACK! TAKE ME BACK! TAKE ME BACK!”

Jace wasreduced to those three words, as he pounded against a plain white wall and screamedhis lungs out. Tears were running down his face, but he was past the point ofcaring…about anything.

“It’sstopped working. He did it. He closed the breach,” Jace heard his father saybehind him, and that only twisted the knife in his gut.

“No!” hesobbed, leaning his forehead against the wall, as his entire body shook andcrumbled in of itself.

The lastyear had been the best of his life. He had seen wanders, he had done wanders, he had met the most wonderfullycrazy man in the whole universe, who had opened Jace’s eyes to a whole newworld of possibilities!

It couldnot be over…it could not…

Jace couldn’tbreathe, as he pressed his hands against the wall, and then his head. Listeningintently, as if he could actually hearthe other world that was behind it.

But therewas nothing. Nothing at all.

It wasn’tover, though…not yet.

Jace.

He dreamed of a voice, night after night, callinghis name. His father, mother, and Clary couldn’t help but listen to him, becausethey had met the Doctor. They all knew it meantsomething, so they listened to the dream, and followed the voice.

They droveand drove, until they crossed water, then they kept driving, hundreds andhundreds of miles.

Because he was calling.

Here I am, at last, Jace thought.

And therehe was. Alec. His Doctor. Standing in the middle of a beach in Norway.

“Where areyou?” Jace asked him, the sound of his own voice surprising him.

“Inside theTardis.” But it was nothing like hisvoice, as Jace finally heard it again. Because it reached not Jace’s ears, butsomething far deeper than that. “There’s one tiny little gap in the universeleft, just about to close. And it takes a lot of power to send this projection- I’m in orbit around a supernova. I’m burning up a sun, just to say goodbye.” Therewas an unmistakable catch behind Alec’s attempt at levity.

And thatwas, strangely, the most romantic thing Jace had ever heard, or seen done for him. Still, he couldn’thelp his own neediness. “You look like a ghost.”

He couldn’t look one last time at him like that.

“Hold on.”

Alecpointed his sonic screwdriver forward, at the Tardis’s console for sure, andsuddenly he looked solid.

Jacestretched a hand forward before he could stop himself, his fingers twitching painfully.“Can I…t-”

“I’m stilljust an image. No touch,” Alec said back, as reluctant to spell it out as Jacewas to hear it.

At least,Alec was staring at him fixedly, with his big, deep, sad eyes drinking him in,just as Jace was doing to him.

“Can’t youcome through properly?” Jace begged.

“The wholething would fracture. Two universes would collapse.”

“So?” Jace brokeout into a laugh between the tears that, cursedly, were already pooling in hiseyes, and Alec did that, too.

But Jaceknew that they were both serious. What were two universes collapsing…to this? To them?

Alecshrugged himself off; Jace knew that he was forcing himself to act casual, tochange the subject. They, after all, had never done this. They had never laid out in the open what they were to each other, and what each of them thought theother to be, or felt for him.  

“Where arewe? Where did the gap come out?” Alec asked.

“We’re inNorway,” Jace responded, almost toneless.  

“Norway!Right.” Alec’s chirpiness was almost successful. Almost.

“About 50miles out of Bergen,” Jace went on, never taking his eyes off Alec. “It’scalled Darlig Ulv Stranden.”

“Dalek?”Alec shot back, confused.

“Darlig,”Jace clarified. “It’s Norwegian for bad.” A new shaken kind of laugh came outof Jace. “This translates as Bad Wolf Bay.”

Alec’s eyeswidened, before his surprise turned into another laugh, too. And Jace knew thatthe true irony wasn’t lost on eitherof them; this had always been their destiny. Everything had led them to end up on two different sides of theuniverse.

Jace feltthe first tears slide down his cheeks. “How long have we got?” he croaked out.

Alec’s neckbobbed up and down as he swallowed. “About two minutes.”

They keptstaring, just staring, as the clock ticked, and their time together slippedfrom their fingers. Jace brought a hand to rub at his eyes.

“I can’tthink of…what to say,” Jace admitted brokenly.

Alec smiledhis kind smile, and Jace could swear his lower lip was wobbling. He averted hiseyes, though, and looked behind Jace, at the people waiting for him there. “You’vestill got Miss Clary, then.”

Jace noddedlightly. “There’s five of us now - Mum, Dad, Clary…and the baby.”

Jace knewthat that was petty of him, but he still couldn’t help but want to see what Alec’s reaction would be.

It didn’tdisappoint. Alec paused for a long moment, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline,clearly taken aback. “Is Clary…?”

Jacesnorted, satisfied by the clear jealousy he could hear in Alec’s tone. He justwanted…to be remembered, to be held dear for a while longer after everythingwas said and done, was that too much to ask? “No. It’s Mum. She’s three months gone. More Herondales on the way.”

Alec’s shouldersvisibly sagged in relief, and Jace’s heart rose even more.

“And whatabout you, what are you…?” Alec was still deflecting, and Jace chose to indulgehim a little more.

“Yeah, I’mback working in the shop.”

“Oh, goodfor you,” Alec said.

Jace rolledhis eyes. “Shut up! Nah, I’m not. The Torchwood on this planet’s still open forbusiness. I think I know a thing or two about aliens.”

He smirked,and was pleased to see the same expression mirrored on Alec’s face.

“JaceHerondale. Defender of the Earth,” Alec stated, the pride he could hear in hisvoice warming something inside of Jace…only for one moment, until the nextwords, “You’re dead, officially, back home. So many people died that day, andyou’ve gone missing. You’re on a list of the dead.”

Jacenodded, lowering his eyes to the ground.

“Yet hereyou are.” Jace’s bleary eyes shot back up, and Alec’s face was nothing short ofa shiny vision. How could…how wouldhe let go? “Living a life, day after day. The one adventure I can never have.”

“Am I evergoing to see you again?” Jace finally blurted out, giving up on any pretense ashis chest was now fully shaken with sobs that he couldn’t keep in.

Alec’ssmile was fond, but so deeply sad. “You can’t.”

“What areyou going to do?”

“I’ve gotthe Tardis. Same old life. Last of the Time Lords.”

Thatthought alone was enough to dig a giant whole in Jace’s chest. He thought hecould see the same happening in Alec. “On your own?”

Alec noddedmutely.

That wasit. Their last moments. Fading away one after the other. It was now, or never.

“I-” Jace’svoice didn’t know how to come out of him anymore, and he had to force it. Notbecause he didn’t want to say it…but because he doubted any other words hadever been more important. “I love you.”

And therethey were. Out in the open. Jace kept trying to swallow down his tears, aseverything crumbled down all around him. Alec was the only real thing he would ever feel, and Jace loved him. There wasno other truth.

Jacethought he could almost see tears in Alec’s eyes, too, as his mouth opened upin one last smile.

“Quiteright, too,” Alec said, his voice low and hoarse.

Jace’sheart was thumping wildly in his chest.

“And Isuppose…” Alec continued.

Jace didn’tthink he was breathing.

“If it’s my last chance to say it…”

Jace knew italready, yes, but he didn’t think that he could ever live another day havingnever heard those words coming from that mouth, in that voice that had become as familiar as his own, and directed at him and only him. He needed that confirmation of everythingthat he – they – had been feeling forso long.

“JaceHerondale, -”

Alecvanished.

One blinkof an eye, and he wasn’t there anymore.

Jace staredat empty space.

send me prompts

[quite-right-too]

Prompt:

“I’m tired of answering this question!’’

“I’m tired of answering this question!”

She knew all they wanted to do was help. However, Rose didn’t think that making her relive the worst day of her life was going to make things better.

Three heavy knocks on the door of her flat. Two men in blue-grey Royal Air Force dress uniforms — the same uniform her husband wore.

“May we come in?”

After taking their seats in the living room, Rose could see one of the men speaking. The words that came out of his mouth made her physically ill. Her chest was so tight, tears falling freely as a ragged scream ripped its way from her throat.

“The marshal of the Royal Air Force has entrusted me to express his deep regret that your husband, Flight Lieutenant James Tyler-Noble, died due to an unforeseen equipment failure during flight at RAF Brize Norton. The marshal extends his deepest sympathy to you and your family in your loss.”

Her best mate, Jack, was at her side within the hour. Being a captain in the United States Air Force, military deaths weren’t new to him. He was able to handle the funeral preparations for her, giving Rose the chance to breathe a little bit during the hardest point in her life. “The Royal Air Force doesn’t have a set funeral protocol,” he had explained to her. “I will make sure James has the full extension of respect that we would give to a soldier from the United States.”

Rose knew that the beginning of the procession had gone smoothly — however most of the time was spent trying to keep herself from shattering. The black dress she wore felt like a vice, but she couldn’t be bothered to do a single thing about it. She was too fixated on the casket in front of her. The Union Jack flag draped over the top of it sent a pang of utter heartbreak through her entire body. Her husband was dead. This was his funeral.

Rose was so thankful that Jack was seated next to her. He was wearing his uniform — a deep blue dress coat, adorned with his nameplate and many ribbons, matched the perfectly ironed trousers. The service cap resting on the top of his head covered his eyes partially due to the nature of the style. However, she could still see the tears in his eyes as he watched them lift the flag. The officers before him precariously folded the flag into a traditional triangle fold, ensuring that they put the utmost respect into each movement.

After stepping away from the casket, the squadron leader knelt before Rose — gently setting the now-folded Union Jack into her shaking hands. His hands, covered with gloves as white as snow, stayed on the flag as he spoke to her. His voice was quiet and even as he locked eyes with her. “On behalf of Her Majesty the Queen, the Royal Air Force, and a grateful Nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s honourable and faithful service.”

She couldn’t help but let out a sob. “Oh, James-” Her shoulders shook as she gripped the flag in her fists. Jack rubbed her back as he kept his resolve, tears rolling silently down his cheeks as his jaw clenched tightly. “My James.”