#Master x Reader

[buggyboba]

✦ October 19th | Sharing

AN 𓏧

↳ ○ | Hi I don’t know how this got to be so long….it was supposed to be smut….and just smut….have a whole ass story….i guess...anyway I started writing this twice, and then changed my mind, anyway, I did steal a bit of it for the first Missy x Reader x Simm!Master one I promised, so that is still in the works, and that one is going to be a multipart, so there is also that. I am sure I used they/them for reader, but fem!anatomy. SMUT MDNI

SUMMARY𓏧

↳ ○  While Sharing isn’t in their nature, they have decided to play nice because you looked so cute

PAIRING𓏧

↳ ○ Missy x Reader x Simm!Master

TW𓏧

↳ ○ Established relationship/companion. Fingering, P in V unprotected sex, cum on stomach, eating out. Voyeurism from Missy.

WORD COUNT𓏧

↳ ○ 4000

A03 lINK𓏧

↳ ○ x

MASTERLIST LINK𓏧

↳ ○ x

★𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★ 𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★

It was tea time. She had very set expectations, and you were already in the kitchen preparing two cups of tea; it wasn’t a full afternoon tea set up, but she was busy, and with the appearance of her past self, the schedule had been thrown out the window much to your dismay. Her past self had made himself comfortable over the past few weeks since he had come ‘aboard’ as he called it. Uprooting the nice thing they had going, stealing you away occasionally, as an extra set of hands, you would catch him staring or muttering. He would watch you and banter with you; it felt natural, as natural as how you and Missy bantered; you felt drawn to him, just like you were drawn to Missy. 

It was interesting, to say the least, if you looked deep enough, you could see bits of him in Missy, some of her facial expressions, some of her habits. Regeneration was odd, she had explained it to you, and you understood the concept. It was like dying, but not really; a new person was just left—a new face, a new body. The personality was a bit different, but the core was the same; at least that's what you understood of it, like The Master was eventually going to become Missy, and Missy was once the Master; you could understand that. Sometimes you worried about the vast paradox they were causing like this, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t your problem—not really. If the universe was going to explode, what were you going to be able to do about it? So you just enjoyed it. 

Missy was protective of you, said she knew herself, and well, she did know herself, so you trusted her decision to be cautious of leaving you two alone too often, but you couldn’t just tell him, ‘No, I’m not going to help you with XYZ.’ So you were forced to interact with him. Sometimes he whisked you off all day, kept coming up with excuses to keep you around, and when he was out of excuses, he said it was just to piss lady him off. You didn’t like being a tool to aid in him annoying Missy. 

Another thing about him was he was cocky; then again, so was she, but he was something entirely else. It wasn’t terrible; you found him interesting, just like you found her interesting. He was a younger her; after all, even if he didn’t look younger, Time Lord's age was odd and sometimes didn’t reflect how old they looked. It just so happened you didn’t mind them looking more mature; it was thrilling. 

He looked so dignified; you liked his style, his salt and pepper goatee, his coffee-colored eyes, his silver hair, He was foxy, cheeky, knew he looked good, and you liked it. Of course, at first, you only recognized him as Harold Saxon, which was wild, but you chose to ignore it. You had mixed feelings about Harold Saxon’s run, killing the president, and all that, but that didn’t matter anymore because, at the end of the day, Harold Saxon was a disguise. 

He did confuse you though, because he could say something so vile and off the wall and then be a gentleman in the same sentence. He liked keeping you on your toes and was interested in what his future self saw in you. You knew that Missy enjoyed your company, that you were sassy, that you weren’t afraid of getting your hands dirty, and most of all that you felt something for her. What you didn’t know was that it had started as sole manipulation at first, but she felt something deeper than that now and was trying desperately not to let her former self say anything that would ruin what you two had now. Little did she know, right? 

Since it was tea time for today, you were in the kitchen of her Tardis making tea when you felt a familiar air behind you, and suddenly his arms were on each side of you, boxing you in against the counter.

“I think I’ve got it.” He started. “What she sees in you.” He whispered in your ear, You went to sidestep, but he kept you in place. His eyes were studying you; there was a mix of something behind his eyes, predatory but also like he was trying to figure something out like you were a bug to be studied.

“Okay, let’s hear it then,” you said, staying calm and keeping your body relaxed as you tilted your head to look at him. You knew you had to be careful; after all, Missy had hypnotized you a few times, so you knew he could do it too. 

He laughed a bit and tilted his head, studying your eyes for a moment. "Oh, don’t worry, pet, I won’t hypnotize you, not right now, though it could be fun, and I am dying of boredom here. Who knew I could be so boring?" He shook his head. “You think too loud, and you are so easy to read, my dear.” He grinned at you. You shook your head and pushed him a bit so he would move so you could finish making tea. “It’s not your fault; you are human... "It is fascinating that Lady Me finds you so worthy of keeping around,” he said but moved so you could make the tea. “It has to be what you give her.” He waggled his eyebrow, his smirk widening. “I mean, I smelled you the other night, heard you... heard her... It’s the sex right, and here I thought she was above it; she went on and on about how she was above primal needs... She’s a liar; wouldn’t you agree, my dear?” He nodded and watched as you felt your cheeks heat up.

“What do you mean you smelled me?” You asked carefully, leaning away from the counter and looking at him. Ignoring everything else, he said for a moment and zeroed in on that detail. 

“What I mean is—oh, did she not—Oh, you poor thing... Time Lords have a heightened sense of smell; we can smell the chemicals in the air; we can tell what time period and where we are just by smell. So of course, confined in this tardis, in the room down the way, I can smell your arousal. Just like I can hear every soft hitched breath, every moan you think is muffled enough.” He mused. “And you are so noisy; I can see why she likes you; I always did like screamers. Wonder what you taste like; it must be fantastic if Lady Me goes back for more.” He mused, and you felt scandalized right then and there. He had heard you two, smelled you two; you wanted to disappear right now; you wanted to cease to exist in the same room as him. 

"Oh, shy now? You weren’t shy last night,” he gave you that cheeky grin. “So I have to assume she keeps you around because you fulfill her needs and wants.” He looked you over; you tried to figure out what to say, and you found yourself suddenly wishing Missy would show up. “Which makes some semblance of sense; it is what you humans are good for, you know,” he teased, but it felt meaner than it should have.

"Yeah, well, what can I say? I give stellar head and have a can-do attitude.” You muttered, turning back to focus on the tea. You were trying to stop yourself from burning up with embarrassment, not that you knew why it was embarrassing; it was clear you and Missy were entangled in some sort of relationship, ergo you two would be intimate, and like he was a stranger; sure, he was strange, but not a complete stranger.

“And you smell delicious,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “No, I am sure that’s what she likes of you." He tapped his fingers against his chin for a moment watching you, taking in your body language, seemingly pleased he put you on edge, got under your skin. “It’s not so bad, is it? I am very giving. So you aren’t wanting, I’m sure,” he said flippantly. You narrowed your eyes.

“It’s not just sex.” You muttered. Turning your attention to finish the cups of tea, you were already going to have to explain that her former self cornered you in the kitchen, which is why tea was late, so as revenge You had decided to only make yourself and Missy a cup of tea, but it didn’t matter because he ended up stealing yours and sat down to talk to Missy, who entered a few moments after the tea was ready, easily dismissing you. You went to talk back, but Missy held her hand up and motioned you away. You didn’t like this at all; you narrowed your eyes looking between them and definitely called them a bitch in your head before you headed to yours and Missy’s shared room. 

It felt like hours as you lay there quietly, upset at your lack of time with her and how he stole your tea. You sighed deeply and were almost about to get off the bed and go look for her when, speaking of the devil, or devils, she entered, followed by her male counterpart. You sat up and crossed your arms, looking between them; she had never let him come in. You paused and looked between them. 

“We spoke,” she started, “and we have come to an agreement.” She said with a final tone, and you shifted. My younger self understands now what you are to me and us, and if you agree, we would like to... share you.” She said, watching your face for any signs of what you were feeling. 

“Oh well, at least I get a choice,” or at least an illusion of one, you mentally thought. “And why exactly would I want to be shared? I assume you are not just talking about splitting custody of me." You joked a bit, trying to make your own unease go away. You thought he was handsome, and he was technically her, different but still her. You crossed your arms, waiting for him to speak, and he did; it didn’t take long, actually. 

“I know what you think; you are not good at hiding it, pet and I know you have thought about it once or twice, what it would be like, and what I can give you that she cannot.” He started and glanced at Missy, then back to you. “And while we are not prone to sharing what is ours, it’s only fair; if you are hers, you are mine,” he said casually. “So come on, live a little, let's play swingers,” he grinned at you in a cheeky grin that was oh so familiar. “Let me get to know who I apparently adore.” He rolled his eyes a bit but then looked at you studying you again, as if he were actually thinking about how Missy said she adored you to him. 

The statement made you blush a bit. You did know that Missy adored you, and you adored Missy; you also hadn’t been expecting such a proposition. You looked at Missy, who was watching you with an equally cheeky grin, nodding a bit as a go-ahead. You wondered if this was a ploy to get to you sooner by having her past self be involved with you too. It felt very convoluted, so therefore felt like a very ‘Master’ plan to you. 

"So, like, is this you wanting to sleep with me?” You asked, raising an eyebrow, looking at him. 

“Oh no, if I wanted to just do that, I would have told you, and we would have seen where the night took us, but I would be lying if I said it wasn’t a tempting thought; after all, you do make the cutest sounds,” he mused a bit. Right, god, you forgot he could hear you, that he could smell your arousal. Oh god, that meant Missy absolutely could too; that would explain the smirks and glances when you were turned on around her. You didn’t have time to unpack all of that right now; you had to focus on the question that was being asked of you. You had never been in a relationship with two people before, more so the same person. You had a lot of questions about the logistics of it but decided now was not the time for that either. 

“I mean, I guess... it's okay... I mean, you are the same person, just in different places in your timeline, I guess, so by all means it’s fine... as long as neither of you gets jealous of the other, which I know is a big ask.” You laughed a bit trying to lighten the very serious topic. 

The pair were silent. “I think we can manage, Poppet," Missy said and rolled her eyes, moving to sit next to you, her hand lightly patting your knee. “Plus, in the grand scheme of things, you are still mine regardless, and in an off way while we are vastly different, I can’t ignore my past, and he has become...” she paused to think of the correct word she wanted to use. “Smitten.” She settled on, “You are an interesting pet, and while he can be...” she trailed off for a moment once again looking for the right word. “Pushy, cocky…an idiot.” She smirked a bit when The Master bristled and made an annoyed sound. “I think this would be a good arrangement,” she said lightly. “We can try it, and if it’s not what we enjoy, no harm in it…right?” She urged you, and you nodded a bit, though you were almost positive it wouldn’t just go back to how it was if they didn’t like it. You shifted again, and Missy’s hand tightened on your knee. “Trust me?” she asked.

You sighed and looked at her. You did trust her, but it was such a turn-around from her wanting you to stay away from him, and now she wants you to sleep with him? Then again, you couldn’t even begin to understand what she was thinking, so you would go along with it; it was fine. He was right; you had been looking at him; you did find him stunning, and since he would eventually become her, you didn’t think it was too weird. 

“Good, perfect!” he clapped once and started over the bed, flopping on your other side, his arm wrapped around your waist pulling you a bit closer to him. “You know something; earlier, when I said I knew why she chose you being strictly satisfying her, I was wrong, and I don’t often if ever admit when I am wrong, though we will see for ourselves, won’t we? I do bet it’s fantastic, from what I’ve heard anyway.” He smirked, and you wanted to die again. 

“Let’s not talk about it; look, Missy."You looked at Missy and said, “Didn’t explain that the Time Lords were basically fucking bloodhounds, pack hunters... Jesus.” You shook your head. 

“That’s not a bad thing, darling.” She grinned at you, moving her hand up to your thigh more. “And if I had told you before you would hide those beautiful sounds from me and freak out anytime you became aroused, it would have made it more obvious, and you would have hated that even more than you hate us talking about it now. I think it’s nothing to be worried about, plus your heart does this little racing thing, oh, like now,” she poked above your now pounding heart. "Yeah, that’s it, lovely,” she grinned. “I think deep down you like it because it is a turn-on, whether or not you know it.” She said her hand moving up to pull your shirt up, her nails scratching up your stomach, leaving little red lines as she did so. “And don’t worry, I’ll be here the entire time.” She practically cooed at you.

Oh, oh so this was happening now, of course, it was, you didn’t expect them to wait, not when you were there already warm, already thinking about how Missy made your body feel, and wondering how He would make your body feel, you felt your cheeks heat more as his hand slid down to undo your pants, pulling the zipper down his hand grazed against your hip as he pushed the fabric down your hips and past your knees, Missy pressed a soft kiss against your neck, as her hand caught the fabric of your shirt pulling it over your chest showing off your chest, which was covered by a black lace bra, his hands moved to pull the strap down over your shoulder so your breast fell free from the cup, his palm cupped the flesh and his thumb traced against your nipple, coaxing it to harden, you shivered, as you felt Missy’s nails against your bare thigh, trailing up towards the apex of your thighs. 

“They are cute,” he mused. He pinched your nipple a bit, rougher than Missy tended to be. You had a feeling where Missy was rough; he was going to be rougher. You were not getting out of this unscathed, you breathed out as his hand moved to kneed at your other breast, his mouth capturing your nipple; he drew long sucks against it; you instinctively let your hand grab his shoulder as you felt Missy shift to move up on the bed more, watching. The Master moved pushing your pants down and off, dragging you up more, his hand moved to your thigh, spreading you out for him more as he pushed you to lay down; his tongue flicked at your nipple before he licked down your stomach, nipping right above the waistband of your underwear, which caused your hips to arch; you felt Missy move to sit with your head in her lap, her fingers trailing through your hair, as she watched with interest. 

“She particularly likes the thing we do with our tongue.” Missy mused, smirking down at you, and you gave a soft sound as his fingers dragged your underwear down. 

“Who doesn’t?” He smirked. 

“Cocky.” She shot back, watching as he pushed your thighs up, so your legs were over his shoulders; she supported your neck more as he moved you; her fingers massaged at your neck; her other hand moved to trail her fingers up the valley of your chest; your hands didn’t know where to go, one gripped against Missy’s skirt, the other against the back of The Master’s head as his mouth made contact with your core. The sound that escaped you was sinful. Missy’s fingers trailed against your arm as it clung to her. 

His tongue curled and pressed before falling flat against your slit, licking a stripe up, before the flat of his tongue wiggled against your clit, pulling a breathy sound from you, your hips arching again, his hands having to grab your hips so you couldn’t squirm away as his mouth closed around the little bundle of nerves sucking and flicking it with the tip of his tongue. His eyes watching you closely, taking in all your body’s cues. 

"See, I told you.” Missy spoke, “Putty.” She smirked, one of her hands fingers stroked against your cheek, almost lovingly. Her other hand cupped your breast, slowly massaging it. You jolted as he slipped a finger into you, thrusting it a few times before he added a second one to stretch you for him. “Making sure you are nice and ready, puppy.” She purred to you like you needed a play-by-play. Your hand moved to try and pull at her shoulder, wanting her lips on yours, which she obliged, swallowing a few of your groans with her mouth. 

“Oi, I want to hear them; that’s the whole point, isn’t it, the fun little sounds?" He pulled back, and you tightened your hand against the back of his head, whining about him stopping. “What a needy little thing we have.” He smirked a bit. “Then again, I don’t blame them, do you?” He smirked at Missy, who watched him and then looked back to you, nodding after a moment.

“All ours… I think we will keep them.” She mused though she said that every time you two slept together, ‘I think I’ll keep you.' It was as close to 'I love you’ as you were going to get. You felt him sit up, hearing his belt buckle undo and the swift sound of leather being pulled before he undid his pants. His hand wrapped around his length and stroked the already semi-hard member to life. He pressed the tip through your slick folds, rubbing against your entrance. “Deep breath,” he breathed out as he leaned over pressing against you, his chest against yours, as he held himself up with one arm. As he heard you breathe in he pushed in slowly, sinking in inch by inch, feeling your body stretch for him. “That’s a good pet.” he breathed out as he felt you flex and clench around him, “Oh yes, like a glove, like you were made for me.” he purred into your ear, you heard the annoyed tsk of Missy, but her fingers continued to play against your nipple and scratch the back of your neck, watching the pleasure split across your face, as he settled to the hilt, “There we are.” he breathed out, and slowly started to drag out, getting halfway out before he pushed back in quickly, his hand found your hip sliding down it and under your thigh keeping your leg pushed up and out as he rolled his hips, he felt your other knee against his hip as he set a steady pace. 

You groaned out, locking gaze with him as he moved, that grin spread across his lips, he liked eye contact just like Missy did, of course, he did. He felt better than any toy Missy and you had used, one hand moved to grab the back of his jacket pulling at it as he hit every right spot with the roll of his hips. You felt your head cloud as your pleasure started to build, you arched more trying to breathe and not let yourself cum, much like when you were with Missy, you wanted her to cum first, though with Time Lord's stamina you knew he would cum plenty of times before he was tired. You gasped out feeling your thighs strain and shake as he pushed as deep as he could with each thrust now. You groaned out his title, “Master.” there was a moment where his eyes darkened, and he gripped you tighter, the way you groaned out ‘Master’ clearly did something for him too, because he picked up his speed. He could tell you were close and he was close too. He growled out something in Gallifreyan, you had heard Missy say it before, in that same growl. Missy’s hands tightened against you as she heard his growl, her own eyes dark with possession, as she felt your body shudder and jolt as you slipped and screamed out as you came around him. 

You choked out, as he kept moving, Missy said something in very stern Gallifreyan, to which he replied, but slowly pulled out stroking himself as he splattered hot seed against your stomach, and looked at Missy with a look of ‘Are you happy now’, you couldn’t even form words for a moment, but you knew they must have argued about where he could cum, you felt Missy press a few kisses against your temple as you breathed trying to catch your breath. 

“I think it’s my turn pet,” she smirked a bit waiting for you to come down. It was going to be a long night between you three, and you weren’t sure about all the implications, but you didn’t care all that much, because this opened a whole new world for you, and you did want to explore more of it. 

★𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★ 𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★

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[tardistimes]

Apt Apology

Part of The Master's Maniacal Misadventures series. AO3 link.

Cape Canaveral. Florida, November 1967. What you asked for, the Master delivered.

You still eyed him with suspicion as he joined you in the doorway of his TARDIS.

“There you go then. Your pea shooter launches in an hour.”

“Pea shooter?” You said, a frustrating fondness seeping into your tone. With a sharp reminder, you remembered your vow that this was a one-time trip. A trial run he had called it, but it wouldn’t last long. A few hours at most and you’d be able to let O go once and for all. It would be easy – he’d never existed to begin with.

“A launched Saturn V rocket is the loudest sound humans have ever produced.”

“Have ever produced so far.” The Master corrected. “You’ve never heard 10 billion of you screaming in harmony.”

Resolve hardened, you replied acerbically, “Yes. I remember how much you like to torment my species.”

It’s why you were here. His plan to kill humanity thwarted only by the Doctor. A plan she’d unwittingly pulled you into, though you suppose you were always in it. You just didn’t know you were a pawn at the time.

With a small sigh, you looked back at the scene before you. It really was 1967. You were going to watch the first launch of the Saturn V rocket that was sitting across the bay. Hear that almighty boom with your own ears and shield your eyes from the dangerously bright flair on its five F-1 rocket engines igniting.

You started to step out of the TARDIS, drawn by the sight, when a hand stopped you.

“Already losing points in the intelligence column.” The Master snarked. “Forgetting something?”

Glancing down like you would suddenly be missing trousers, you accidentally stumbled across his point. Rather than giving him the satisfaction, however, you used an excuse. “Did you see me pack a change of clothes? In fact,” turning to face him fully, you crossed your arms, “I remember you specifically telling me not to pack.”

“Cast your mind back with greater care, human.” He retorted, careful to say the name of your species with extra derision. “I told you not to pack as the TARDIS has a full wardrobe.”

Letting your lip curl back a fraction, you eyed him slowly before saying, “No offence. But I don’t think dressing as a colourblind geriatric on day leave from the care home is going to help me blend in.”

You didn’t know whether he’d scowl or smile and waiting to see gave you an odd thrill. You didn’t enjoy this. There was nothing of O’s sweetness here, nothing of his kindness, his charity, his passion for the greater good. But when the Master grinned you still saw him, even if his teeth looked a little sharper.

“You know you love it really.” He said, turning sharply so his coat tails would billow.

“Such a drama queen.” You muttered.

“What was that?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“Lead the way.” You said theatrically, emphasising each word with care. “I don’t suppose this wardrobe of yours has a hearing aid to complete your look?”

With a shove, you went into the TARDIS ahead of him.

Both looking appropriate for the decade, you stepped back out into the sunshine.

Really, you would’ve been happy living in that wardrobe but you weren’t passing on the chance to get your own back. After spending eighty years trapped on Earth, this location was just as good as any to give the Master a little retribution for all the suffering he’d caused you. He’d be miserable here, you were sure of it. Watching subpar technology in the most insufferable place humanity had to offer – Florida. The humidity had already ruined his coiffure within seconds; that would drive him to new levels of madness in no time.

Clapping your hands together, you looked around gleefully as he locked up.

“Where shall we start? Should we get a spot now or is there time to visit those stalls over though. Oh, that one has ice cream. Have you got any money?”

“Does it look like I’ve got a wallet on me?”

You definitely weren’t going to be tricked into scanning his trousers for a bulge, but you did shoot him an irritated look.

“Again, you told me I didn’t need to bring anything.”

“I can get us money, human. But you won’t like how I do it.”

With a sigh, you figured that was true enough. “Fine, let’s find a good spot. I want the best view.”

“Go back into the TARDIS then. I’ll pilot us to ride alongside the thing.”

Instead you marched forward, toward the crowd of people already gathered on the shoreline. Like you they all had sunglasses on, the Master the only one ridiculous enough to go without. Apparently his superior alien eyes didn’t need them. That or he couldn’t find a pair large enough to fit his head.

You were able to find your own little spot further along the island that sat across from the cape. Unsurprisingly, for the time period, there was no crowd control to push you back.

Unlike the other spectators, you had the foreknowledge to take some ear plugs. Luckily the Master’s TARDIS had some in the wardrobe. His precious alien ears would probably be fine, but you’d like to live to hear another day.

Before you could sit on the grass, the Master put his hand out to stop you again.

“What now?” You said, rolling your eyes.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he somehow produced a fully sized picket blanket.

Staring at him blankly, it took a minute to form words. “How did you fit that in there?”

“The pockets are bigger on the inside.” He answered. “Obviously.”

Laying it out, he gestured for you to sit first then followed you down to the ground. Carefully spreading your skirt over your legs, you glanced at him a few times. You had plenty of questions. How was something bigger on the inside? How did he travel through time? If he was an alien, why didn’t he have spookily long fingers and big eyes? You didn’t ask any of those.

“You said you were planning on coming back. To see me. Once you’d finished your plan.” You started, keeping your eyes on the horizon. Little figures flocked around the rocket, like ants on a leaf from such a distance.

“That’s what I said.” He agreed, unbuttoning his jacket so he could lean back on his forearms.

“But what was the plan, exactly? You were going to turn up on my doorstep, me the only human left in existence, reeling from everyone I’ve ever known dying and… were you going to be O?”

The Master sighed. Maybe he didn’t want to talk about his recent failure, but you still couldn’t wrap your head around his return. You could be mourning O; the Master a distant nightmare. Instead he was back and, despite what he said in your kitchen, you still didn’t know why.

“You might have been more amenable if I was O.” He said eventually, once he sensed you wouldn’t let the conversation go. “So, yes. For a time, I would have continued the ruse.”

“And then, at some point, you would have revealed that you’re a time travelling alien? With a spaceship.”

“I always planned to tell you who I really am.” The Master answered carefully. It was a complicated plan and in a way the actual turn of events had made things easier. Even if it meant conceding to the Doctor yet again. Of course, he could’ve taken you but that wouldn’t be interesting. This, this was interesting. You had every reason to turn from him, but you were here. That was interesting, which made you interesting.

“You said. That’s why you gave me those files about the Doctor.”

“Precisely.”

“And you thought that’d work?” You said incredulously, turning to face him. “That I’d be totally fine with everything and we’d – what? Travel together.”

“Actually I thought we’d leave Earth immediately. You knew enough to be exposed to alien technology and there wasn’t much point staying in a wasteland. I mean,” he turned to look around him, “look at this place.”

The sun shone bright overhead, the brilliantly blue sky was lightly dusted with the faintest of clouds, and there was an excited hum in the air as humanity waited for history to unfold before their eyes. You thought it was beautiful. Was he missing something, or were other worlds truly more lovely than your home?

Shaking your head, unable to believe your planet was anything like a wasteland, you asked, “Do you really hate Earth? Or do you just hate anything and anyone that isn’t you? Do you want the universe to yourself?”

His eyes flashed and with a moment of clarity you realised that the thing he hated above everything was himself. And the Doctor, you amended. But there was self-loathing that you could only believe he had let you see. He was too good an actor. Or was this an act for your sympathy? He could be playing you again.

“Did you come here for the history or the bang?” The Master asked, leaning toward you as a darkness fell over his face. “Better yet. Did you come here because you wanted to or because you wanted to punish me?”

It was his turn to see something in your eyes and with a smile he knew. “We’re more alike than you realise. Different enough to make things interesting. Maybe we’ll learn to love it. Maybe we’ll grow to hate it.”

“Not knowing.” You said slowly, realising why he wanted you here.

“Even as O you saw me better than most. And the people who do see already hate me.” He sat back, resting on his arms again. “This is different. Live long enough, different becomes interesting.”

“Why, how old are you?”

“That, human, is a very rude question. According to your culture anyway.” He deflected.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “So you hate Earth, hate humans, but you want to follow the standards of polite society?”

He shot you a dirty look that had you laughing even harder.

“I get it, I get it. You only like rules when they work for you. That’s right.” You grinned. “And if I ever try to hide between the same rule, you’ll ignore it. Like a hypocrite.”

“Don’t try and guess the future, love. This will only end faster.”

You felt the joy drain from your eyes but it quickly recovered when you heard a murmur pass through the crowd.

“It’s time.” The Master said ominously. “Wake me up when you’re ready to go.”

He started to lay back but you thwacked his knee with your hand. “You’re not sleeping through this. It’s the loudest noise.”

“Says the woman who’s never heard it.”

Shushing him, you were still pleased when you felt him sit up and rearrange himself to rest beside you on the rug with thinly veiled impatience.

“Fine. Just you wait. Once you’ve seen the stars, you’ll realise how dull…”

Whatever he was saying, not that you’d been paying attention, was drowned out by the most deafening roar you’d ever heard. And that was with your ear drums safely protected. Smoke billowed out, stretching to the banks opposite your side of the river and flames shot out from beneath the rocket. Inexplicably, this giant vehicle was propelled up, the force of the explosion outweighing its vast size. Eyes wide, you followed every second. You knew what was going to happen, but feeling the blast ripple through your bones was entirely different. You were really here.

The Master watched the side of your face, not in the slightest interested in primitive Earth technology. The delight in your eyes, that was interesting. Very interesting, he mused to himself.

When the rocket passed out of sight and the crowd finished clapping, when your heartrate steadied and your hands stopped shaking, the Master ushered you off the blanket.

“Right. Off we go. Time to go see some real planets.”

He left the blanket on the ground and you started to protest.

“You can’t just leave it here, it’s littering.”

“Oh come on.” He said, snatching your arm to drag you along. “The TARDIS has everything we need.”

Well, in that case, you guessed someone else would find use for it. Dropping your arm, the Master walked without a backward glance to unlock the door. He left it wide open – infuriatingly confident, you could tell, that you’d follow him. And, as you stalked after him, you found that your irritation was nearly nothing next to your excitement.

The trail run might last longer than one trip after all.

[how-masterful]

Chaos

Missy X Reader, Dhawan!Master x Reader

Summary: It's a late night after an eventful day, and in your exhaustion you muse about the Master and his chaos. But the chaos is seemingly just beginning. Notes: Here we are! The fourth annual birthday fic in a row for @plethora-of-imagines! And my first fic in a while! It's been both fun and frustrating getting back into writing, but i'm pretty happy with how this turned out- and where i'm planning for it to go! Don't worry plethora, you'll get your joust soon! Enjoy! (Also reader note, there's mention of Delgado!Master X Reader in here too, just in case that's not your thing!)

To finally rest your head upon a pillow was bliss. The aches and pains of the day that held tight within your bones seemed to melt into the plush duvet, dispersing from your body and leaving you nothing more than an exhausted husk. Today, as ever, had been far more eventful than any plan the Master's brain (or brains? You still weren't so sure about that one) could create. 

It seemed these days, even the simplest of visits would end in a universe threatening scenario- whether it was indeed the Master threatening the universe himself was often a flip of a coin. Chaos trailed behind the Master like a shadow, a tangible shred in the fabric of the universe. No matter his reason for visiting, whatever planet he dared to step his foot onto could never be left in the same state. His compulsion for chaos prevented it. He left destruction like footprints in the sand.

You adored it. You adored him. But some days the chaos felt just that- chaos. A heavy weight that made you crave nothing more than a good night's rest.

You sighed deep into your pillow, turning onto your side as you let out a hefty sigh. Even today, what had started as a simple visit to a museum had ended with utter destruction and you being banished from a whole subsection of space. The Master had, perhaps overnight, developed a strong passion for the correct and morally appropriate relocation of artifacts to their home planets, instead of keeping them in museums on the opposite side of space. From memory, you recalled musing about how strange this new desire was, how… benevolent. The shelves in his own office were crammed and sagging in the middle from the weight of all his stolen keepsakes. Since when was he so bothered about things being where they belonged?

Then you noticed the dangerous twinkle in his eye, his hand stretching outwards to grasp hold of your own, his electrifying touch leading you down the exhibition hall and towards the large glass cabinet housing a weapon of, when put bluntly, targeted mass destruction on a single planetary scale. 

The Master's moral mission to return the artifact had been nothing more than a vehicle for destruction-the weapon was specially designed to implode the planet the moment it made contact with its unique outer crust, which was why the museum across the stars kept it in the first place. To prevent destruction. To show the universe such chaos must be prevented. Be contained. But with the shatter of glass, and a dastardly smile, the Master had taken it into his hands to wipe that planet from the map. 

“That's what they get for working with the Grand Serpent.”

He’d grinned, watching the fire from the safety of his TARDIS, one hand upon your thigh, another bringing his teacup to his lips. He’d never been fond of that slimy old copycat. You’d smiled and sipped from your own cup in return, the curl of smoke in your nostrils a familiar and oddly comforting smell. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, the darkness of your own head far more comforting than the darkness of the room. Sleep had begun to sink deep within your limbs, a welcomed relaxation as opposed to your mental debate.

The chaos, as he’d once said, was a wonderful thing. It was routine yet also unique, that strange unicorn of a lifestyle that tinged the edges of everything you knew. Chaos brewed itself in the smallest of fashions and grandest of scales. Cushions that didn’t match, eclectic mugs that filled up the cabinets, mountains of books yanked from the library and piled in precarious structures, minefields of abandoned and temperamental experimental devices that could go off at any moment scattered around the various labs in the TARDIS.

But it shone deep from within the Master's eyes, his deep browns a perilous vortex you could find yourself falling into at a moment's notice, never wishing to crawl free of him. He was a harbinger of chaos, a walking weapon of catastrophe, anarchy at his fingertips. He could send your body and soul into a frenzy as easy as destroying a dynasty. You could never want him any less.

Sometimes, however, it all became too much to handle. You needed much more rest than the Timelord could bring himself to want, need or take with the amount of adrenaline running through his system. With a kiss to your forehead, a promise to return, and a request to take full advantage of the luxuriously comfy hotel bed, the Master had returned to the labyrinth you’d lovingly called ‘The Timeline Club’- once more meeting with his former self to discuss new business. Business it was essential they’d both be able to remember.

The other Master had started to become a more prevalent part of your existence, arriving to join your plans on occasion, arriving to join your more personal excursions even more. The Master, your Master, with his wide smile and eyes that could soften to a dangerously innocent doe eyed look, had taken such pride in how willing you were to get to know his former self… intimately. A boost to the ego that could never be matched: No matter what body he was in, it seemed you were destined to find it ridiculously attractive- and you weren’t inclined to argue with his hypothesis, considering the other Masters' visits often ended in you providing damning evidence.

The long curtains that hung beside the wide window began to softly sway, caught in a gentle breeze as your brain began to slow, allowing your thoughts to soften. You’d once suggested to your Master, well, Masters now, that you'd felt an ‘off’ button to your brain would be far more effective in getting the amount of sleep you needed when running on such a tight schedule. Your younger Master (definitely younger, despite looking like he should have been the older Master- much like the brains, it was awfully confusing) had a penchant for that sort of thing, his words were able to guide you to such a wonderful rest in less than a minute. Hard as you tried, no sleep you could muster on your own had yet compared to his.

Making a space for him had been almost as easy as breathing. He was so different to your Master, so refined and stoic, yet the hold he had upon you was exactly the same. Your apprehension upon your first meeting had disappeared with the same ease that your mind had now disappeared into a needed slumber. 

That was, until, you heard it. Your eyes barely cracked open at the familiar groan. The groan of the TARDIS, wheezing and phasing into existence. The breeze upon the curtains had swelled into a storm, the fabric billowing as the furniture began to lightly rattle, the cool wind snatching away the warmth of sleep you’d worked so hard to find. 

You sat up slowly in bed, pushing the covers back with balled fists as the TARDIS finally materialized upon the far wall of the hotel room, taking the shape of an elaborate wardrobe, swirling carvings of hissing snakes deep within the mahogany wood.

“Master,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes. “You said you’d be hours, I've only just got in bed.”

The door to the wardrobe swung open, light piercing through the gap and bathing the room in a fierce purple glow. You squinted hard, your eyebrows furrowing. The Master's tardis had a red console unit light.

“Did you change the console room again?” You mumbled, rolling your shoulders. The ache from earlier in the day had finally returned to your joints.

There came no reply from within. Except for the slow click of high heels upon metal inching closer and closer.

“Master?”

“Not quite.”

A figure emerged, bathed in shadow, breaking the glow of the TARDIS with her silhouette. Her voice, a Scottish lilt, made your eyes snap wide open.

“But you’re not far off.”

The other wardrobe door opened, and the figure stepped out of the TARDIS and into the light. Her long brown hair was fashioned into a messy updo of curls, her piercing eyes precisely lined with deep black liner. A pale broach sat perfectly within her white collar upon her throat, her long purple skirt covered by a matching purple jacket, the tops of her sleeves puffing out like a victorian. She smiled darkly with her red rouged lips, brandishing a slender black umbrella in one hand, its metal tip digging into the carpet.

“My my, what big eyes you have.” She teased, stepping closer in her black leather heels.

“All the better to gawk and say ‘what the hell is going on?’ without actually saying anything.”

You inched back slowly, hand carefully creeping towards your phone on the nightstand. The intruder's gaze caught you immediately. She tutted lightly, before raising the umbrella in her grasp and aiming it at your phone. With a loud hiss, the phone jumped from the table and clattered to the floor, an involuntary yelp escaping you.

“That’ll do you no good, dearie.” She teased, shaking her head.

“There's no use calling him, there's no danger. He wouldn’t be so self sabotaging. I should know.”

“Who are you?” You snapped.

The intruder giggled, raising her free hand teasingly to her lips.

“Oh, he hasn’t told you? Typical men, always wanting to keep their shiny things to themselves. Such a boys club, isn’t it?”

“Answer the question.”

“I am!” The intruder replied, gesturing exasperatedly.

“No, you’re really not.”

“Uh, I really am. I’m providing indirect answers through context clues masked with sarcastic commentary! C’mon poppet, you’re letting the side down here.”

You pressed your lips together in a tight line, narrowing your gaze towards the strange woman.

The intruder sighed dramatically, placing her hands on her hips.

“Wow. He really didn’t tell you who I am? I’m offended. Seriously, totally offended. You’d think after promising to let you meet me A YEAR AGO he’d fill you in on the deetz- but no, you’ve been running around making whoopee with the silver fox for months, far too distracted to come and visit little old me!”

You opened your mouth to ask more questions, when memory got to you first. It was a partial haze, the image muddied by alcohol and exhilaration, yet you could still make out the shapes. One year ago you’d visited the Timeline Club for the first time- a year ago, you’d met your other Master for the first time. After your… antics… the Master, your Master, had carried you out and mentioned something about-

“Workshopping…” You said aloud. The intruder tilted her head like a curious cat.

“He’d said he’d be workshopping it… he said I needed to meet…”

The intruder stepped forward, reaching the edge of the bed and smirking expectantly. You looked up, awe slowly spreading across your features. You gasped softly, the tension falling from your shoulders.

“You’re… Missy?”

The Timelady hummed in approval, her hand reaching to cup your chin with her fingertips, lifting your face to meet her gaze.

“That’s Mistress to you right now, pet. We’re still getting to know each other.”

You gaped up at her, unable to pull your eyes away. You could see it within her eyes, that familiar twinkle of danger. It was the same one you saw in your Master's eyes.

“Now come along, we’ve much bonding to do, so little time.”

Missy preened, bringing her face closer to your own, leaning across the edge of the bed.

“I’ve been so looking forward to getting my hands on you, poppet. Those boys have been keeping too short a leash on you.”

The Mistress chuckled, booping the end of your nose with her fingertip.

“Now it’s my turn to have some fun.”

Missy grinned down at you. And in that smile, you saw the familiar storm of chaos.

[notes-of-the-behemoth]

In the role of a parent

(I think I outlined the psychological problems of the characters themselves more, but so be it)

Master:

• He needs help

He has no idea how to raise a child.

• clumsy and awkward with a child, but it's a matter of time

• really loves her child and his love may sometimes be too much. It belongs to the type of parents who can love their child "to death" (it seems to me that because of his closeness, the master cannot openly show affection, as a result of which it all falls out on the child, which leads to its redundancy, excessive guardianship and care)

• there are also many sweet moments. For example, he can start coming up with cute stories so that the child falls asleep faster.

• spoils the child too much. But it's justified!... In his opinion. How can he refuse him if he asks... Besides, he is so charming ...

• it is difficult to cope with a child in adolescence. Considering that the master is overly attached to his child, it is a little frightening for him to have a child's desire for freedom. However, it is also passing.

• he is in a difficult position when it comes to everyday life

Marghorita :

• For her, this is probably a desirable child. So, too, in a sense, to take too much care of the child, but definitely less than the master.

• despite the previous paragraph, she is sometimes strict with the child. She wants to give her child the best upbringing, so she sometimes shows restraint and perhaps even rigidity.

• tries to instill in the child a love of literature and it is not easy for literature but for good literature. She understands that books have a lot of influence on the child's worldview, so she monitors what her child reads.

• in adolescence, she tends to become more of a friend to a child than a mother. And because of this, problems may arise.

• One of her favorite activities with her child is watching movies. Or rather, the time after the film when she can share her impressions of the film, express her opinion about the plot and characters and hear the opinion of her child as well. She listens attentively and respects the child's opinion. However, sometimes it can turn into a rather heated discussion.

Woland:

• not too strict, not overprotective, the golden mean

However, sometimes it can be frightening even for your child. And Woland is trying to get rid of it.

• one of the reasons why a child will be afraid of Woland is that he always knows when a child is lying or hiding something from him.(However, in some cases Woland prefers to pretend that he does not know about the misconduct) Therefore, we can say that the child will be partially deprived of his personal life.

• The character is tolerant of the child's hobbies. It is rare to hear prohibitions from him regarding a child's hobby, only if it is harmful to the child or society.

• his offspring has an excellent upbringing. Perhaps we can say conservative. Voland's child has many positive qualities. For example: creativity, self-control and calmness

• However, the flip side of the coin is that the child is quite closed in the manifestation of emotions.

Koroviev:

• severe clinical case

• you can hardly wait for real emotions from Koroviev and this greatly affects the personality of the child.

• there is a high probability that the child will be a copy of a man.

• also, for a child, Koroviev is more a friend than a parent. However, for a man, his child will be an excellent companion for practical jokes. The perfect duo.

• However, despite the fact that Koroviev wears the "mask" of a buffoon, his real essence sometimes speaks in him. And it is these moments that become important for his offspring, they largely shape the child's personality.

• despite all of the above, the man is quite savvy in everyday terms. That is, he can easily lull the child to sleep or help him do his homework.

Koroviev is very attentive to his child, despite his external carelessness, he is sensitive to the external manifestations of the offspring's emotions. To some extent, a man is gentle and affectionate with a child.

• he is also very tolerant of the child's hobbies. However, there is a high probability that he will send the child to a music school. Perhaps his child will play the piano, he would like to play a duet with his child (I have an assumption that Koroviev can play the violin)

Behemoth:

• unexpectedly, but one of the best parents

• conservative upbringing.

• since he has a so-called "sixth sense" (It's easier to call it intuition), he is also acutely aware of changes in the child's mood. He is also shrewd in terms of the child's misdeeds

• one of the few disadvantages of a Behemoth as a parent is his pickiness and criticality, it puts pressure on the child.

• prefers that his child be engaged in everyday life. Of course, he is not against the child's hobby, but I do not prefer that the child help with housework.

• despite his strictness, he sees the child primarily as a child, does not dump responsibilities on him.

• Clear separation of roles. Like, "dad is dad, friends are friends," That is, the relationship between a child and a Hippo does not turn into a friendly one.

• despite the previous paragraph, he sees in the child an excellent companion for practical jokes.

Azazello:

• Oh, just as unexpected, but one of the best parents

• definitely gets softer when it comes to his offspring, but tries not to spoil him.

• he would probably prefer that his child practice some kind of martial arts, and it does not depend on the sex of the child.

• despite the fact that Azazello tries not to spoil the child too much, he can overwhelm him with gifts. He just can't do anything about it...

• short-tempered and stubborn, which also causes conflicts with the child. Especially if the child has inherited his character

• it is also likely to be overprotective at times. But he does not seek to control the child too much.

• his child will DEFINITELY not become a household invalid. He'll take better care of it than anyone else. In this regard, it can be said that at times he is quite strict with the child.

Wow, it was quite difficult but interesting. This paper presents a subjective opinion, it may be inaccurate or incorrect. In any case, I have a couple more ideas for similar works. Orders are open.

[crushmeeren]

﴾ Trying something new! Everyone is aged up/18+.

Master List Link

﴾ Texting the boys and telling them it’s their fault your back hurts.

Note; written with FEM READER in mind, but I think Eijirou is the only one who says baby girl and Shouto mentions you being Fuyumi’s sister in law. If these suck I’m sorry I tried my best. (✿◠‿◠)

❥ ❥ Bakugou Katsuki

❥ ❥ Todoroki Shouto

❥ ❥ Kirishima Eijirou

❥ ❥ Todoroki Touya

[kpop-otome-yandere-here]

Mammon: I cut my finger

Mc: I can kiss it, so it'll get better

Mammon: That works?

Mc: Yeah, my mum used to do it when I was little

*later*

Mammon: I need you to punch me in the mouth

Levi: Fucking finally

[sleepiedahlia]

HIS WINGS

FEATURING: LUCIFER,MAMMON,ASMODEUS,BEELZEBUB,DIAVOLO,SIMEON

TW: some suggestive things in some but mostly fluff:)

HIS WINGS (YOU ARE HERE)|HIS TAIL

LUCIFER

-it would take a while for him to show you his wings let alone touch them

-but when he does please be gentle! and make sure it's in private because his pride will get destroyed

-but his wings have this soft feeling and they look very clean from all the care he puts into them

-later on he'll let you help preen them because four wings is a lot for one person

-but it's also a way for him to show how much he loves you and it's good bonding time too!

-his most sensitive place with his wings is where his wings meet with his back

-he really likes when you take your time with each wing because to him it shows you care and are willing to put the time in to help

-and sometimes at night when he lets his wings unravel and let them be out he'll wrap them around you when you cuddle with him

-and the same goes when your in bed too when in the heat of the moment he'll wrap his wings around you to pull you in closer to him

MAMMON

-like lucifer it would take him a bit to let you see his wings but not as long though

-his wings have a leathery feel to them and the ends of his wings like the spikes almost feel like plaster but a little stronger

-he may not put that much care since there not feathery either but he still cleans them once in a while, enough to look like he cleans them more often then he does

-he does let you touch them often though after he gets used to you which is pretty quick and he also likes the attention when you touch them

-his most sensitive area would be then end of his wings

-a lot of times when you cuddle he will also keep them wrapped around you

-his wings are also very useful in the hot summer because he can move his wings around to give cool air:)

ASMODEUS

-he will just ask you to touch them straight up after a week of knowing each other

-his wings look leathery but they don't feel like it they kind of feel like a thin blanket but that still feels really nice

-he will not let anyone else touch his wing except you, he can't have his pretty wings dirty and who know where other demons hands have been!

-he definitely has his wings out around you and he has special masks for his wings to keep them the way they are

-when he cuddles with you it's him laying his head on your chest and his wings wrapping around your waist and his hands around your neck

-he also has his wings out in bed too because he likes to use them to toy with you when your under him

-or it's a situation with you on top and his wings keeping you close by wrapping them around your waist

BEELZEBUB

-he refrained from showing his wings as well because of his sensitive they are and how easily they could get teared up because of how close they are to bugs wings

-but when he does he warns you on how sensitive they are but he will let you touch as much as you want as long as he trusts you

-again his wings are closed related to a flys wings or a bugs wings so they are very thin so they could easily rip apart

-he sometimes has his wings out but not often but he won't cuddle with them out either

-but if you like insect anatomy he will gladly let you look at them to study if you wanted!

DIAVOLO

-so help lucifer if he ever saw you touch diavolos wings he would about be in his grave

-but diavolo would love when you touch his wings!

-his wings are like mammons and feel like leather but around the spikes of his wings feel like silicone or plaster

-he would love if you decorated his wings with things that match him

-but his wings have a decorative shape on the base of his back that goes up his wing and like lucifer where his wings meet his back is his most sensitive place

-he'll cuddle with his wings around you like a protective sheild

-it's a 50/50 if he had them out in bed it's not a total yes or no but when he does he uses them to fan you firming it to cool you both down

SIMEON

-you would have to ask first but you must wash your hands with holy water before touching, ever touch had to be pure

-his wings aren't to sensitive but his wings feel soft and silky every time you touch them

-sometimes his wings feel like a really fuzzy blanket so they are nice to lay on if you have trouble sleeping

-he will let you preen them but again wash your hands with holy water and after you finish cleaning he puts some holy water on his wings

-he will gladly have them out around you and he would love to cuddle you with his wings and the hugs are literally heaven too because his wings are so soft

-he will never have them out in bed his wings need to be pure he needs to feel pure when doing the do

@SLEEPIEDAHLIA

- PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK! BUT PLEASE ADD CREDIT IF YOU USED MINE AS A REFERENCE FOR A POST! PLEASE AND THANK YOU! -

[eowynstwin]

i’m drooling at ur older bf price (not much else to say except when/if u ever have more thots abt him please share 🙏)

previous

You curl in on yourself after sex, sometimes. It’s a pattern Price has noticed—you’ll finish, then he will, and in the humid moments after, the shutters in your eyes will close. You won’t meet his gaze.

He’s only asked once about it, and it had been so clear that the question disturbed you that he hadn’t pressed. You’d tell him, he reasoned, when you were ready—

(And he could nudge you in that direction in the meanwhile.)

The sink is put back together, cabinet door closed. Your sundress is wrapped and twisted around your midsection, naked breasts wet with his saliva and compressed against his chest as you lay panting on top of him. His shirt is in some far-off corner, thrown aside, and his jeans are around his knees.

“That was nice,” he murmurs in your ear, kissing your hair. He makes a home for his fingertips between your shoulder blades, walking the trail of your spine, up and down, slow as a tide.

“Mm-hm,” you say, out at sea. Far away.

He can’t deny that it disappoints him. But it isn’t about him, and he shouldn’t make it so. Even if it is about him, it isn’t actually about him—it’s about something else that has attached itself to him. Things are like that more often than not—deeper, older problems with hooks, the barbed kind that sink in and cling and won’t come out of their own accord.

So he keeps kissing your hair, and he keeps stroking your back. His softened cock hasn’t slipped from you yet, and he makes no move to dislodge it. You nestle closer to him; shift your body over his, a little, just for the feeling of it. He waits for the sigh—the long, steady breath you take after the act, after you’ve found yourself again in wherever it is you go after moments like this.

“This is probably weird to talk about after sex,” you say, and Price’s ears perk up.

“Nothing weird between us, dove,” he encourages. “What’s on your mind?”

You play with his chest hair a little, twirling it around with the manicured ends of your nails. (A manicure he happily paid for.)

“You’re the first man who’s ever given a damn about me,” you mumble into his neck.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says honestly. He kisses you again, because he wants to, and because he wants it to comfort you.

“You don’t make me feel stupid for not being able to do stuff on my own,” you continue. “My step—my mom’s husband. He used to make fun of me for, for getting confused about changing my car’s oil. Or he’d get annoyed at me. Or I’d need him to change my tires because I can’t do it on my own, and I’d call him for help, and he wouldn’t pick up the phone.”

“He sounds like a piece of work,” Price comments.

A younger version of himself would have offered to beat the shit out of the asshole. That self’s anger on your behalf sits radioactive in his chest even now—corrosive, roiling, righteous fury, ready to carve your name on whatever offal is left over after Price gets through with him.

But that would be for his own ego, not for you. That has no place here.

“Do you know—” and your voice breaks a little, “do you know how bad it feels when a man who’s supposed to look out for you treats you like you’re an idiot? Like you’re not smart enough to be worth helping?”

“Some,” he says. “It’s an awful feeling. I wish you didn’t know how it felt, dove. I’m sorry.”

He feels something warm and wet drip onto his chest, and your shoulders begin to shake.

It’s not the full-body, wracking cry of catharsis. Just an episode of something longer, something tired. A problem dealt with, over and over again—a wound that reopens sometimes, if it’s pulled the wrong way.

Price gathers you closer, wraps his arms around you tighter. He cups the back of your neck with one hand and murmurs “shhh” into your hair, soothing and quiet, squeezing you against him.

“I’m okay,” you say, a little watery. “Really, I am.”

“I know you are,” he says.

He tilts your face toward his, and kisses the center of your forehead. You meet his eyes with your own, wide and glistening with your tears.

“I’m always gonna help you, dove,” he promises, catching one that falls with the edge of his thumb. “And you can always ask.”

-

No I don’t have daddy issues why do you ask

[moonstrumpet]

“My love for you transcends time” ~Barbatos, The Nighbringer..

UGHH IVE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR SO LONG.. i’ve been coloring it and coloring it over and over so i gave up and decided to post it.

[buggyboba]

Hi! I know I vanished for so long but I'm back with Doctor Who brain rot. I've been messing around with the idea of Thochei and Master x Reader (probably more Missy x Reader. Because the world needs more Missy.) Anyway, like maybe I'll start doing some drabbles. Some good angst stuff.

-buggy.

[dlscenarios]

Once you weasel your way into his heart, Mammon becomes such a clingy demon. You have the pact, sure, but Mammon hates being away from you for a long time. At school, he’d follow you through the halls with either his hand in yours or on the small of your back. At home, he wraps his arms around you and refuses to let go. Most days, the two of you end up cuddling in either of your beds or on a couch in the common room. It’s strange for him to admit that a piddly little human turned him into a lover.

[how-masterful]

Remastered

Dhawan!Master X Reader

Chapter 8: The Snowmen

Summary: Christmas. 1892. You decided long ago that you and the Master were finished. Broken up. Done . But dark forces are brewing, and winter is on its way. Can saving the world from evil snowmen be the thing that finally gets you and the Master back together?

Notes: Good gods, I make a promise to not rewrite an entire episode again, and guess what I go and do! Many apologies that this didn’t go up in December, somehow I managed to forget just how busy things could get during the holidays. But better late than never! This fic is a biggie, clocking in at just under 16.5k words. So, grab a snack, a hot drink perhaps, but definitely get comfy. I hope you all enjoy, and i look forward to all the new fic’s i’ll be posting this year. Stay tuned! (ps, I hope this is a suitable bed time story @plethora-of-imagines​!)

Warnings: Cannon Typical Violence, Mild Language

The Rose and Crown was bustling with life. The merriment, and fervent drunkenness, was palpable within the London tavern, the regulars happily knocking back tankard after tankard. It always was this time of year, the bitter cold being drowned by the warmth of alcohol, a saving grace for those who had to work a hard day's graft. Sweeping through the days end crowd you slid the empty mugs onto the metal serving platter, patting the back of a familiar friend, and saving a drink from being knocked to the floor from an exuberant mid-storytelling gesture. You smiled, giving a small wave of ‘you’re welcome’, before disappearing out the back door. 

The pot wash was a small trek away now, considering the landlord had yet to find somebody to fix the broken side door- which you presumed to mean he couldn’t find anybody cheap enough to finish the job. He was a nice man, probably, when wasn’t underpaying you, staring at your chest, or getting drunk off his own stock. You could tell he was meant for better things, things not involving women or alcohol. That was the Victorian way. Not much different to the 21st century.

As you let the door latch shut, you turned to head across the back courtyard, when the sudden rush of wind bristled behind your back. Spinning around, you raised an eyebrow at the far corner. Where once had stood a propped up broom and an empty barrel, now stood a large snowman. A bulbous head sat upon a tall, wide body, its eyes a deep and narrowed black, its mouth a small slit in the snow- filled with razor sharp teeth, much like fangs. Instantly, you dropped the serving platter, sitting it down upon the pile of crates behind the back door. 

The courtyard had seemed to become chillier, your fingers grappling to pull the red shawl across your front, tucking the ends into the ribbon of your dirtied apron. The snowman seemed normal, upon inspection, your arms folding across your chest as you leaned in to take a look. You studied the creation carefully- any normal person would say it was the handiwork of an excited child, happy to receive the first snow of the season. But this felt… different. The way the eyes seemed to watch you, the way the teeth seemed to multiply the deeper you looked into its snarling grin. 

Something about this snowman felt… off. Otherworldly. Evil.

“I doubt he pays his barmaids to make snowmen on the job.”

A familiar voice called from the alleyway, leading back towards the street. At the sound you rolled your eyes, taking a deep sigh, your shoulders pushing back instinctively as the figure emerged from the shadows and into the courtyard.

“Not in this economy, anyway.”

“Ah, no wonder I had a gut feeling of otherworldly evil. It was just you.”

The Master smirked, his boots leaving heavy footprints in the snow.

“Aw, bless. You’re still so kind to me.”

“It wasn’t a compliment. Any reason why you’re skulking about and making snowmen outside my pub?”

You gestured towards the strange snowman, and the Master sent you a strange expression, stepping deeper into the courtyard.

“Am I not allowed to take a walk in my own city? And I've got much better things to do with my time than sit around building stupid snowmen.”

You rolled your eyes once more, giving a small, huffing sigh.

“Well, it wasn’t here earlier. And nobody else is strange enough to be wandering around in this cold.”

The time lord gave a similar sigh, before pulling a pair of glasses out of his top pocket and perching them on the bridge of his nose. The Master narrowed his eyes towards you, looking you up and down, as if inspecting you. In return, you did the same. He’d abandoned the creepers and cuffed pants for a pair of chelsea boots and long trousers, marrying his costume of gentlemanly standing with a woollen waistcoat and a familiar long, deep purple coat- this time lined with a woollen lining, a matching scarf slung around his neck, paired with a top hat perched atop his hair, now curled and refined instead of flailing madly. He’d even taken a razor to his jaw, his face now smooth and beardless. You hated to admit it, but he looked incredibly handsome. You shook the thought away- you shouldn’t be thinking that anymore.

The Master stepped closer to the snowman, and you followed suit, inspecting the mound of sculpted snow closely. He reached out and snatched a lump out of the side, crushing the small snowball within his grasp.

“Maybe the snow got bored of sitting on the floor, and turned itself into something more remarkable. Maybe, the snow remembered how to make a snowman. Maybe, it remembered how to have fun once in a while.”

You scoffed quietly by his side.

“There’s no need to be so condescending,” you said sharply, copying his gesture with the snow. You inspected the ice crystals closely.

“It was never your best quality.”

The Master turned to face you, one hand falling to his hip.

“If I recall, you were quite fond of it.” He jabbed, pulling away from the snowman.

“Not when it’s directed at me, it’s not.”

“And why is that?”

“Because i’m-” You stopped yourself in your tracks, biting your lip at the words that almost fell from your tongue. The Master waited expectantly, the familiar look of superiority plastered across his face when you couldn’t finish your argument. With a satisfied hum he removed the glasses from his face before sliding them back into his breast pocket. He shoved his hands in his pockets before turning on his heels, the Master heading back towards the shadows.

“Pretty girls that can carry trays are easy to come by, so I suggest you get back to work unless you want to end up even further below the poverty line.”

He called over his shoulder. You scowled, pressing your lips tightly together before following him out of the courtyard and into the alleyway.

“You looked better with a beard.” You lied, your anger searching for any insult that could dig at his vanity. The Master gave no reaction, a growl emerging from your throat.

“I’d say don’t catch your death, but that’d be preferable. Bare faces don’t do well in the cold.”

The Master paused and turned around once more, the twinkle in his eye still infuriatingly beautiful.

“Very cute, but I'm not the one who has to rely on candles and gropey factory workers tipping well to keep warm.” He replied, turning back to face you before he reached the corner.

“I’ve got a TARDIS for that. Thanks for the tip though, the sentiment’s touching- but you know you don’t have to follow the whole ‘In sickness and in health’ thing anymore, don’t you?”

You grit your teeth together, a small tug building in your stomach as you saw him walk away, whistling a small tune to himself as he disappeared into the night.

You pondered for a second, the cogs within your head turning rapidly within the machinery of your mind. The Master didn’t do anything for no reason, especially since he’d taken to staying on earth, which you still didn’t understand why. No, there had to be another reason why he’d decided to step out into the night. The first full snow, beyond the light dustings of powder that had covered certain parts of the city. This was a full blown, stereotypical, Victorian Christmas. And something about it was troubling the Master. You had to find out why.

With a forceful tug, your apron slipped down the front of your dress, soon trampled into the melting mush of snow at the edge of the courtyard. You made haste in traversing the alleyway and sprinting out into the open, the roads covered in the sludge left by the traffic of carriage wheels and horse hooves. A dark carriage was rolling down the main street, its driver hooded and cloaked, the windows hidden by the roller curtain, the damask a deep shade of maroon. Nobody else in London town would be so macabre without being in mourning- that had to be the Masters carriage. 

Breaking into a further sprint, you dodged past couples on clandestine strolls, drunkards stumbling through the street, and established gentlemen who could risk a nightly stroll without the risk of murder or societal impropriety. No doubt your mad dash would become gossip, the girl with the red dress chasing after a vehicle and doing something rather reprehensible- but you couldn’t care less. 

The carriage turned, its momentum slowing to allow the weight, and you took that moment to leap. Your boot hooked onto the metal latch of the back of the carriage, the ornate metalwork acting as handlebars as you yanked yourself upwards. There you lay on the roof, on your belly, fingers grappling to reach the small latch that opened the roof compartment. You lay for a while, listening in to the conversation inside. From the metal scratching you could tell he was communicating with somebody from a distance away, most likely a hypnotised nobody to do his dirty work. They were much easier to come by these days.

“The snow’s evolving fast, that snowman built itself in a single second. They’re also spreading closer to the river. I want more eyes out there. Especially around Blanc street.”

Blanc street? You raised an eyebrow. That was the street the Rose and Crown was on.

“Yes Master. Did you find what you were looking for?”

Ah, so this drone wasn’t exactly mindless. Maybe the Master had gotten lonely. Good. 

Inside the cabin, the Master paused.

“Yes,” he said after a while. “I did. She’s still alive. Still the same as ever. Still…”

There was a long silence. The goon on the other side coughed quietly.

“Still what, Master?”

The timelord course corrected, huffing dramatically. He always did that when he didn’t want to admit the truth.

“Still so nosy.” He replied. “She was all over that snowman, she could sense something was off about it too. Presumptuous, if you ask me. Personally I think she’s just looking for trouble. Sometimes I question why I even married her.”

That was it. With a powerful push, you shoved the pin from the top of the latch, the square gap opening wide as the lid swung downwards on its hinges. You followed suit, rocking forwards and allowing your head to fall through the gap, your upside down face meeting with the Master's shocked expression. You furrowed your brow, tone exasperated and curt.

“Because I said yes!” You snapped, and the Master's face immediately soured.

Slamming his knuckles against the front of the carriage, he scrunched his nose in annoyance.

“Pull over! Right, get in here-” He barked at the driver, a quiet ‘yes, Master’ echoing through the roof. The Master's hands suddenly reached forward, latching hold of your shoulders.

“Oi!” You shouted in reply, the momentum sending you tumbling down into the carriage. You felt your tailbone collide with the bottom of the carriage, your legs flying to land on the opposing bench, your dress ruffles falling to expose your lower thighs, your head ending up sat in the Masters lap. You both paused, staring at each other, the tangible pull of memory freezing you both in place. Any other time, any other you, his hands would begin to cart through your hair. But now was not one of those times. You shuffled awkwardly out of his lap, trying to manoeuvre yourself away from his clutches, and also trying to salvage any dignity you could muster. You brushed down your dress, sitting uncomfortably across from the Master and folding your arms indignantly. The time lord frowned, tapping his fingers upon his knees.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The Master snapped.

“What on earth possessed you to jump on the top of my carriage?”

“Because I missed you SO much.” You mocked, smiling sarcastically.

“And because you stormed off without telling me what you know about the snow.”

“Oh, really-” The Master scoffed, rubbing his hands over his face. The carriage pulled over into a small precinct, no unlike the courtyard flanking the Rose and Crown. The horses rode to a stop, kicking at the snow with a snuffle, fresh snowflakes landing upon their noses. The driver sat, almost frozen, small layers of snow building upon his shoulders before melting from his body heat.

“I knew the only reason you came snooping around the pub was because you were curious about something.” You said, pointing towards the ceiling, and the small metallic speaker that poked through the top of the cab. “And your little chat with whoever, confirmed that.”

Leaning forward, you mimicked the Master's pose.

“Something is going on with the snow, and you think it's alien. And, considering you’re keeping a low profile instead of trying to form a rocky alliance with the culprit I KNOW you already have in mind-”

The Master scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“You think it’s dangerous. And not in a good way.”

The Master threw his hands up in the air, reaching towards the cabin door with a scowl.

“I’m not doing this. I’m not getting into this with you-”

Storming out of the cabin and into the cold, the Master's feet split the fresh layer of snow. He charged forwards, standing in the middle of the empty street and letting out a low groan, his hands falling to his hips.

“Hey-” You called after him, almost jumping out of the carriage.

“I have a right to know-”

“No, you don’t!”

The Master spun around, practically launching himself across the snow in your direction, his finger pointed towards your chest.

“I don’t owe you anything! You don’t get anything from me anymore! You gave up the right to know anything the moment you left the TARDIS-”

“Because you wouldn’t tell me anything in the first place!”

You replied, the heat of anger warming your cheeks.

“You, Master, it was you that shut me out first. You dropped the ball, with your whole ‘time lord superiority’ and your secrets. Do you think it was an easy decision for me?”

“Well, it certainly seemed like it!” He argued back, teeth bared like an animal.

“And, Y/N, if I recall, I wasn’t the one that said I didn’t want to be married anymore-”

“I wasn’t the one that made it impossible to be married!”

The pair of you stood eye to eye, faces almost touching, shoulders shaking with rage. This palpable divide, the pain of yearning, it felt like a pair of handcuffs around your necks- keeping you tethered together through an inescapable pain. The Master yanked away his stare first, slamming the door of the cab shut before returning to your confrontational exterior.

“Right. Here’s what's going to happen. I’m going to take away the last hour of your memory-”

“You what-”

“Just shut up and listen!” He ordered. “I’m going to take it away. You, me, the snow, it’s all going to go away. You’re going to go back to your job, and everything that's happened between us tonight will feel like just a dream. That way you don’t have to worry about anything. And you’ll stay out of all of this.”

You instinctively pulled away from the timelord, looking him up and down with disbelief. He had no reason to do that, no reason to take it all away from you. But why only an hour? This was a man capable of using hypnosis to reset a person's brain completely, his ability so advanced he could practically erase them from the minds of everybody they’d ever known. He’d built an entire satellite system designed to paint himself as an angel in every single human's mind- so why would he be so merciful?

“Then you can tell me now, can’t you?”

The Master raised his eyebrow in confusion.

“What?”

“You can tell me everything you know now, and I'll forget it all. You always worked better after you rambled your whole plan. That way we’re both happy.”

You looked at him hopefully, your curiosity desperate to know what he knew. The Master thought for a moment, before letting his whole body sink into a defeated sigh.

“Is that the only thing keeping you from running?”

“Why would I run away?”

“I just told you I'm going to wipe your memory.”

“And I've just discovered evil snow exists. If you’re desperate for a chase, I'll run after you tell me. I bet I'll get at least five streets down before I get a stitch and you catch me. Never any good at sprinting and all.”

For the first time that night, the Master truly smiled. A real smile, not one of sarcastic superiority.

“Fine.” He relented, bending down to inspect the snow between his fingers once more.

“From what I can gather, the snow emits a low level telepathic field, basically a fishing net for thought-”

A sudden chill crossed over the back of your neck, the same distant whooshing of winter air emerging from the end of the back alley. You stepped away from the Master to inspect the cobbled alleyway, your eyes widening at the sight of the same snowman looming ominously at the end of the street.

“The snowman…” You said to yourself, watching the mouth of the creature begin to widen, more and more teeth emerging in the gap.

“-catching the thoughts and reflecting it back at the people stuck inside. But this stuff is acting strangely, carrying over a previous shape-”

“Master!” You yelled, grabbing hold of his shoulder and yanking him to your side, pointing towards the snowman.

“The snowman!”

The Master rubbed his hands together at the sight, instantly stepping forwards to inspect the new arrival. Your hand on his arm kept him from getting closer, his curiosity reaching its absolute peak.

“Ah! How grand.” He called excitedly, looking the grinning snowman up and down.

“Were you thinking about the snowman?”

“Yes!” You replied hastily. A second snowman suddenly shot up from the ground, the loud whoosh sending the pair of you stepping backwards in shock.

“Then I suggest you stop!” The Master finished, before grabbing hold of your arm and yanking you away.

 The pair of you turned to run, hoping to make a grand escape in the Masters carriage, when a further two snowmen appeared at the other end of the alleyway. You were boxed in, more and more snow creatures shooting like rockets out of the earth, their grins opening wide as a blizzard of snow emerged from their mouths. The snow was blinding, knocking the pair of you back into the middle of the alleyway, your arms flying upwards to shield your faces from the onslaught.

“Y/N, stop thinking about the snowmen!”

“I can’t!” You cried.

 The thought was stuck at the forefront of your brain, their deep black eyes and piercing grins plastered across the inside of your mind's eye. At this, the snowmen seemed to grow taller, their rumbling growls increasing the ferocity of the snow. The Master grabbed hold of your arms, pulling you down to the floor of the alleyway, your fingers grasping his jacket material as his hands reached to grasp hold of your face.

“Y/N, the snowmen are feeding off your thoughts, you’re trapped in their telepathic field, their fishing net-”

“I don’t understand!” You shouted, something primal in your gut screaming for help. You’d faced down daleks and cybermen and not even blinked, but now you were admitting your fear at the hands of demonic snowmen. The Master leaned in closer, his forehead almost meeting your own.

“The more you think of them, the more they appear, but you can change them-”

“How?!”

“Think of them melting. C’mon, Love, picture them melted!”

You scrunched your eyes shut, and began to visualise. You forced every part of your brain into action, fighting hard to imagine the snowmen around you as nothing more than sad little puddles. You pictures the scene in your mind- the Master and you crouched in the middle of the alley, the snowmen around you disappearing into a mound of sludge and cold water. The Master closed his eyes too, picturing a similar thought, and the frozen growls around you were squozen into a pathetic roar. You gasped as a powerful burst of rain crashed onto you from both sides, your hair and clothes now sopping wet as the snowmen disintegrated into nothingness, melting into the cobbles. The Master laughed, his hands automatically pulling you towards his chest, his fingers stroking down the back of your hair as you launched yourself into his arms.

“Well done, good girl, well done.” He said comfortingly into your hair, your nose breathing the scent of his aftershave in deep. It took a few seconds for him to realise what he was doing, the Master pushing your shoulders away to arms length, his face looking as if he was performing a million mental calculations at once. 

“Ehem,” he attempted, nodding curtly. “Good job. You got rid of the problem you created.”

“Is that going to happen again?” You asked as he moved to stand, brushing off his knees and taking the top hat from his head, pulling a face at the wet patch on its side.

“Maybe, the snow is spreading.” The Master explained, placing it back on his head.

“If it does, now you know what to do about it.”

You leant against the brick wall, shivering from the bite of cold that clung to the cold water, sending goosebumps across your skin. Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked up at the Master with a disappointed frown.

“Unless I forget.” You said, the Master's face falling in reply.

Soon he’d dragged you to your feet and bustled you into the carriage, pushing you to sit on the leather seat, his hands braced on each side of the door.

“Go home, get warm, go to bed. Don’t go investigating the snow, stay out of trouble.”

He said, or more likely commanded. You nodded at his words, knowing full well you weren't going to follow them.

“Thank you.” You said softly. “For saving me… and for not scrubbing my brain.”

The Master smiled slightly, glancing down at the floor.

“Don’t get used to it. I think it's better for both our sanities if we stay out of each others lives, all things considered. If I can't wipe your mind, try your best to do it yourself.”

Before he managed to pull away, you placed your own hand on the frame of the door.

“What are you going to do? Shouldn’t people be warned about the snow?” You asked. The Master smirked, the villainous bravado returning to his face once again.

“You and I both know that's not how I work. I suggest buying a raincoat”

“How am I supposed to do that on the barmaids wage you so detest?”

The Master scrunched his nose challengingly, before gesturing to the falling snow.

“Put it on your Christmas list.”

The door slammed with a metallic crunch, the Master's hand pressing itself against the glass. You looked closely at his hand as he muttered something to the driver about taking you home, your eyes falling upon his ring finger, pressed against the surface. You felt your heart lurch at the indentation on his finger, the small area of skin that used to hold his wedding band now exposed to the cold air. With two knocks to the side of the carriage the horses began to move, the Master walking away from the cabin and heading down the same alleyway the snowmen had appeared on, merging with the shadows as easily as the snow merged with the earth.

No. You couldn't let him escape so easily. Not after all that. You leant against the far wall of the carriage, giving the door a harsh push. The door swung open on its hinges, a small victory, and with a graceful leap you landed in a pile of wet sludge. Ignoring the wet that had started to soak into your boots, you made haste in catching up with the Master. His purposeful strides had struck deep into previously undisturbed snow, the journey winding through side streets and alleyways as you followed him towards the park. Hiding behind a tree, you watched the Master shove his hands into his pockets and casually stroll through the park gate. He was whistling to himself, pursing his lips and whistling out the chorus of Last Christmas. The Master had always seemingly been a fan of the 80’s, you thought. Not that anybody in the 19th century, beyond yourself of course, would be able to share in his enthusiasm. 

Dashing over to another tree, you watched him turn his head from side to side, inspecting his surroundings for any onlookers. Once he’d decided the coast was clear, you watched in surprise as he leapt into the air, his hands clasping onto something metallic, sending a small clang into the wind. With a seasoned pull he yanked downwards, his feet dangling above the snow as he leant upon what seemed to be the bottom rung of a ladder. You blinked in surprise, watching the feet of the ladder sink into the snow. The Timelord took one last look over each shoulder, and after he was satisfied, the Masters shoes began to easily climb their way up. It took only a few steps before the Master had somehow disappeared from view, and with the sound of two ringing taps, the ladder began to ascend once more into invisibility, still to the unbroken tune of Last Christmas.

 Without hesitation you raced towards the ascending ladder. You had to grasp hold of it now that he’d engaged with it. Surely he’d booby trapped it, attached some sort of safety mechanism. No doubt if some stranger had decided to climb up, they’d receive an electric shock, or searing burns across their palms, or possibly something much more macabre. You had no clue what the Master's mind had been able to create in his spiteful isolation. A part of you, as crazy as it was, deeply yearned to find out. You took a running leap towards the continuously rising ladder, hand outstretched. If you could just grasp hold of the bottom rung, you could yank down the ladder and follow him. 

It was getting closer and closer, you were within a jump's reach. With gusto you leapt straight into the air, practically an olympian- and proceeded to skim the bottom rung with your fingertips, before crashing back to the ground with an embarrassing puff of snow.

 You groaned, the impact cold against your back, your pride bruised as much as your behind was. From here you could see into the sky, the clouds sprinkling a dusting of snow into the atmosphere, the moon shining through the naked branches of dormant trees. Despite being right under where it had descended, there was no ladder above you. You cocked your head to the side, narrowing your eyes. The Master had seemingly ascended and disappeared from any sort of view. You couldn’t allow yourself to be defeated so easily, not after he’d gone to all that unneeded effort to save you earlier. The Master had the power to travel anywhere he wanted, anywhere he could possibly desire- yet he’d decided to stay in the same city he’d abandoned you in. If you couldn’t pick his brain and figure out why, you at least deserved to know where he’d set up shop.

Picking yourself up from the ground, you dusted off your skirt, which had only just begun to dry from the onslaught of melting snowmen. You focused your approach, stepping back from the spot and turning over your shoulder, just as the Master had. You bent your knees, preparing a run up, breathing the icy air into your lungs. You pushed off, kicking up a cloud of snow behind you, and swiftly leapt into the skies. 

Clang. Your fingers connected with a bar of cold metal, your hands wrapping tightly around the bottom of the ladder. No shock, no poison, no searing burns. The Master hadn’t trapped the ladder at all. You smiled, victorious at last. 

You glanced up towards the sky, your eyes widening as you saw the rest of the ladder appear against the darkness, your core sufficiently engaging as you yanked the ladder back down towards the earth. You climbed up each rung as fast as you could, eyes unbroken from the heavens, and as you ascended the ladder you smiled in disbelief. Below you, Londoners were once again roaming the streets. You called out to them, waving down at the man and woman who were walking their dog down the street. The dog began to yap, tugging on its lead, yet the owners paid no mind. Beside you, a stray cat lounged and mewed within the spindling branches of the tree, unbothered by your rapid ascent. 

“Oh, hello lovely.” You mused, fingers softly scratching between the cats ears, the small creature mewing in delight before slinking further up the branch. 

You followed its trail as it nimbly manoeuvred the thinning branches, your eyes falling upon the sudden appearance of a looming staircase, spiralling up high into the layer of clouds above, connected to the metal platform beneath your feet. Your hand connected with the hand rail, curved and coiled in intricate fashion, and your foot moved to step upon the first stair. The cat yowled, your attention once more pulled back to the ladder. It was still dangling downwards, feet piercing the snow. You put your hand on your hip, squinting your eyes as you questioned why it had not shot up like it had for the Master. He’d pulled down the ladder, climbed up, then you heard- oh! You ran towards the ladder and tapped it twice with your foot, watching as it disturbed the blanket of snow and began to rise back to where it belonged.

“Thanks.” You said to the cat, that licked its paw in reply. You never forgot to speak to the stray cats you encountered, the stories of the Cheetah Planet instilling a respect inside you for any possible kittlings you could encounter.

 Once more, you crossed invisibly towards the grand staircase, clapping hold of the bannister and placing your foot upon the bottom step. The whole structure felt like it was brimming with energy, the towering spiral almost buzzing under your feet as you carefully made your way into the skies. No matter how many steps you ascended, the usual stitch or lack of breath never reached your body. You didn’t even struggle with the change in atmosphere, it was as if you were clambering up in your own pocket of oxygen. 

The stairs took little effort, and soon you found yourself heading straight through the cloud layer. The air was cool, the soft water vapour tickling your nose as the end of the bannister came into sight. You paused, feet lodged upon the last step, and you eyed the floor curiously. Or, what you presumed to be the floor. Instead of a platform, you saw the vapour continued to sprawl across the ground, a blanket of cloud waiting at your feet. Perhaps this was where the Master would play his last trick, letting you believe you’d made it to the top, and send you plummeting back down to the earth. The most effective way to deal with intruders. And door to door salesmen.

Dubiously, you placed the toe of your boot onto the layer of cloud. Instinctively, you pulled back when your foot connected with something hard. Taking a breath, you stepped once more, this time allowing your whole foot to connect with the somehow solid cloud. First one foot, then another, and when you were finally satisfied, you allowed your hand to let go of the curved end of the handrail.

 Suddenly, all around you, the world began to glimmer. It was like a switch had been flipped, one by one the black night began to twinkle with stars, the horizon shimming with shapes and constellations, unblemished by any sort of light pollution. A small laugh escaped your throat as you stepped further onto the cloud, your arms reaching out as you span in a circle. You felt like a princess, albeit in your pauper gown, spinning around atop of a cloud. Like something out of a fairy tale.

 It was mid spin that you suddenly noticed the looming structure, and you stopped dead in your tracks. Your stomach began to flip and knot, your hands falling to your sides as you stared at the building with a yearning ache in your chest. There it was, standing proudly out of place atop of the cloud, atop of Victorian London. That Outback shack, that hut with its overhanging porch and boarded up walls, The Master's TARDIS. It hummed and shimmered in the low light, staring back at you with all its disguised majesty.

 Hesitantly, you stepped closer, each step bridging you closer to the front door. Part of you wondered if he’d be able to see you through the windows- maybe he’d turned them function, rather than decorational. Perhaps you’d see him, sitting inside by the console like a Scrooge, nursing a cup of tea and sitting with a book. Maybe he was angrily messing with the console, or the TCE, or any other piece of tech he could rip apart and put back together again. Part of you hoped he had a giant investigation board, completed with red string and shoddy camera pictures of blurry snowmen. While another part of you hoped he’d popped out to the shop via the back door. But you knew there was no back door to the TARDIS. That was what made your proximity feel so darn painful.

 Soon you found yourself stood at the front door, staring down at the wood and fighting the anxiety fuelled breaths your body was yearning you take. All it would take was one knock. Maybe two, possibly three, never four. Just some sort of sign. Some sort of attempt to get his attention. 

You shuffled your feet awkwardly, considering all the dreadful possibilities. He could make good of his promise to wipe your mind, maybe this time for good. He could stick an arm out and shrink you, like he’d done once with a poor bunch of carol singers. Hell, he could even kick you off the cloud himself for bothering him. Or… he could invite you in. Maybe make you a cup of tea, show you his string board of the investigation, let you warm up by the fire. Maybe he’d let you back in again. Maybe you’d never have to leave again. It took every ounce of will in your body to raise your hand, to simply press it against the door of that beloved Time and Space machine. Just to feel the familiar, comforting hum of its walls. 

You let your hand rest against the wood, working up the courage to make that fateful knock- but the TARDIS herself had seemingly decided you were taking far too long. At the touch of your hand, the TARDIS began to buzz and whirr with excitement, like a dog barking the moment it heard the postman approach the drive. 

“Shit!” You whispered to yourself, yanking your hand away and turning on your heels.

 You jumped down off the porch and ran across the cloud as fast as you could, charging towards the bannister and fleeing towards the spiral staircase once again. You felt your shawl fall from your shoulders, but the anxiety in your chest was too pervasive to care. You plunged through the cloud layer, racing down the staircase as fast as your boots would allow. The TARDIS door swung open behind you, and the Master stepped out onto the porch, his jacket and hat abandoned and glasses once more perched upon the end of his nose. 

“Who’s there?” He called into the night, narrowing his eyes and scoping out the surroundings, TCE gripped in his grasp.

“Show yourself.” He called louder this time. No reply came from the cloud. 

The Master sighed, staring over at the horizon, when a shock of red against the perfect white ground caught his attention. He stepped closer to the start of the staircase, crouching down to the ground and grasping at the red cloth. The Master peered at the fabric, humming in thought, when the memory suddenly appeared at the forefront of his mind. You had been wearing the exact same shawl when he’d seen you earlier. Poking his head through the cloud, the Master stared at the small figure in a red dress sprinting through the park gates. A smile had unknowingly found its way to the Master's mouth, the time lord pushing himself up from the ground. He huffed out of his nose, before turning back and retreating back through the TARDIS doors, the red shawl still clutched tightly between his fingers.

The next morning the sun dared to gleam through the windows of the Rose and Crown guest room, the rays of sun dancing across your face and pulling you from slumber. Your vision settled on the brown leather bag upon the chair at the end of your bed, your whole body filled with a new sense of purpose. You clambered out of bed, eagerly throwing on your dress from the night before, your brows furrowing as you searched your small wardrobe for the red shawl you were sure you’d thrown off the night earlier. You sighed, opting for a brown woollen one instead, shoving the last of your things into the brown bag and practically skipping down the stairs.

“What’s all this about?” The landlord called, wiping down the surface of the bar and watching you, puzzled. 

“It’s Christmas Eve,” you replied. “ I'm off. Elsie gets back this afternoon, I’m sure you’ll survive.”

Before the landlord could protest, or leer, or do anything at all, you blew a kiss and headed out the front door to the waiting cab. You slipped a small bag of coins to the cab driver, who took hold of your bag and opened the door to the cabin. You hiked up your dress, your eyes falling to the bare cobble street. Just the night before, the streets had been bathed in a blanket of snow. Now… nothing. It was as if the city itself was following the Masters instructions, trying to make you forget of the night's events. But you were determined otherwise.

“Funny,” you muttered to yourself as you stepped into the cabin, taking your bag back and pulling down the roller blinds.

“Must have all thawed in the night.”

Later that afternoon, the Master was once more disturbed. This time not by the TARDIS herself, but by the small sound of scratching against the wooden door. The Master growled to himself, placing the book that had been open on his lap firmly on the table beside his chair. He pulled the glasses from the end of his nose, abandoning them atop of the book, and headed towards the front door of the TARDIS with annoyance. How hard was it to get through one stupid book without any intrusion? The Master sighed as he yanked open the front door, staring down at the porch to see a cat staring back up at him. 

“What do you want now?”

The Master grumbled, the kittlings eyes glowing a golden yellow as it slinked into the TARDIS between his feet. The Master lent against the doorframe, the small black cat purring as it trotted over the carpet towards the Masters living quarters.

“You know, you’re supposed to be out hunting. You can’t keep coming here for your food. It’s Victorian London, Shadow. Mice are everywhere. ”

The cat gave a muffled purr of protest. The Master sighed.

“I suppose it is payment, you’re right. Fine,” He ran his hand through his hair. 

“Don’t make yourself too comfy.”

Trotting her way across the faded floral rug, the kittling leapt up onto the Masters chair, turning in a circle before sitting down like a mimicry of the Sphinx. The Master headed towards the small kitchenette, setting the kettle to boil once more and pulling a mug from the cupboard. It had chipped upon the golden rim, the comical slogan ‘I went to the Catrigan Nova and all I got was this stupid mug’ faded from several turns in the dishwasher. His hand paused as he looked at the mug right beside it. A black and white UNIT office mug, likely slipped into a bag on a previous arrest. That was your mug. It hadn’t been used in some time.

“Although, after that little stunt you pulled last night, I should be planning on skinning you. Why did you let her up here?”

The kittling gave what could be a shrug, licking at her paws idly. The Master pulled a bag of treats out of the lower cabinet, the kettle whistling as it finished its boil.

“And don’t play coy, I found her shawl at the top of the steps. I know you let her up the staircase. What’s the point of having a guard cat that doesn’t guard?”

The Master carried both his fresh tea and the bag of treats towards the living area, rolling his eyes at the display.

“Oi, no, get lost. That's my chair.”

His rantings were cut short by the sight of the envelope tied to the kittlings back with a ribbon. A perfect, white, crisp envelope, with the Masters name scrawled across in deep black cursive ink. 

“What’s that?” He asked. The kittling purred, stretching once more upon the soft armchair as the Master untied the ribbon around the envelope, letting the square of white paper fall from its back.

“When did she give you this?”

Yet another purr. The Master swallowed. 

“Thanks. Here, take some of these and get lost.” 

The kittling happily snatched the entire bag of treats from the Master's grasp, the Time lord shouting in protest as the small cat hopped down from the chair and scarpered its way back out of the door. The TARDIS shut the door behind the small cat, and the Master placed his tea on the side, trading the mug for his glasses. He placed them back on the end of his nose before ripping open the envelope and unfolding the letter within.

“Master,

I hope you’re not surprised by me completely ignoring what you told me to do. I promise I did consider leaving things be. Consider being the word of the day. But the trouble with the snow has reached a point where I can’t risk it getting any worse. Francesca Latimer has been having bad dreams. Specifically about her old governess. She drowned in the pond in front of the house nearly a year ago, only to be found days later after the ice thawed. While I'm sure this is gossip you probably heard but didn’t care about- Frannie’s been dreaming about her. She dreams she’ll appear on Christmas eve to punish her, dragging herself out of the pond. I wanted to chalk this up to childhood theatrics, but I think she’s right. The pond is still frozen, even after last night's thaw. And I felt something. I swear, when I touched that pond, something felt strange. It’s the same feeling I had when we saw that snowman outside the pub last night. Like you said- the snow can feed off of thoughts. The more you think, the more it appears. I can’t explain it, but my gut knows something isn’t right. Please, Master. I know we aren't on the best of terms, but this is important to me. Something is going to happen tonight. And I need your help. 

I hope this letter gets to you. Kittling mail is never fully reliable. Please come to the Latimer’s house as fast as you can. After this, I promise you’ll never have to deal with me again.

Y/N 

(Ps, when you get here, ask for the Governess Miss Montague. I’ll explain later.)”

The Master looked up from the letter, staring over at the corner of the room. Your shawl was thrown over your untouched chair, the pillow still plumped just how you liked it, your unfinished pile of books still sat upon the side table. The Master walked over to the chair, delicately placing the letter upon the stack of books, brushing the thin layer of dust from the top of the chair with his finger.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He murmured, glancing over his shoulder at the large investigation board he’d assembled on the wall, all about the snow. He walked back over to his chair, picking up the abandoned book and looking down at the cover. He looked back to the board, then back down to the book. At that moment, an idea built in his head.

“Always dressing for the occasion, aren't I?” He said, a smile on his face as he headed towards the TARDIS wardrobe, his unfinished copy of the Hound of the Baskervilles thrown idly back onto the chair.

“Come now, you two!” You called, clapping your hands as the Latimer children raced past each other towards the bathroom.

“I want shiny bright teeth and squeaky clean faces. And what do we never forget to clean?”

“Behind our ears!” They called in reply, giggling as they fought over the space in the sink.

“Indeed, and do we remember why?”

“Because secrets get hidden behind there.” Digby replied, rolling his eyes. 

“But that’s not true, is it Miss Montague?”

You gasped dramatically at the young boy, folding your arms.

“It very much is, Digby. Secrets have a nasty habit of catching themselves on all the dirt behind your ears. I clean behind mine morning and night. That's why I know you missed me twice every Saturday since I’ve been gone.”

Frannie giggled at her brother's blush, your smile stately yet smug as you clapped your hands once more.

“Two minutes precisely while brushing those teeth, you two. Then off we pop to bed.”

You headed out of the bathroom, expertly scooping up an abandoned teddy bear, likely Frannies, and placing him upon the lid of the toy chest at the end of her bed. You reached for the windows, fluffing the drapes and getting ready to close them for the night. You glanced at the clock, pressing your lips together in disappointment. It was almost nine. The Master had yet to show up. You supposed you shouldn’t have hoped he would. After all, you weren’t exactly together anymore. But after the events of last night, you weren't as confident in your decision as you were when you initially made it. 

Returning to the drapes, you stared out of the window and gasped. The Master was there, down in the courtyard, crouched over the pond and inspecting it curiously. He was wearing his top hat once again- you hated to admit just how much you liked that look on him. Tapping against the glass, the Master glanced up from the pond at the sound, the TCE in hand. You could see his furrowed brow ease into a much gentler expression through the spotlight of the window lamp, the timelord standing up fully and stepping onto the lip of the pond. You waved gently, your heart racing. Miraculously, the Master waved back, the same level of awkwardness in his fingertips as your own. 

You gestured with your head towards the house, and when his furrowed brow returned, you signalled for him to come in with your hands. You nibbled on your bottom lip nervously as he turned around, likely muttering an excuse to himself that he could use to leave. You expected a cross, or a line across the throat, or a simple shake of the head. Any reason for him to not come in and help, simply satiating his own morbid curiosity. But when he turned around and gestured five with his hand, you felt your stomach flip and spin with joy. You smiled, closing the curtains and turning back to the children as they clambered into bed, dusting down your dress as you sat down.

“Am I going to have the nightmare again tonight?” Frannie asked softly. You smiled, shaking your head as you grasped hold of her rescued teddy bear, placing it in her lap.

“Absolutely not. Because I’m going to tell you a story.”

“Is this another ‘absolutely true’ story?” Digby questioned, grinning cheekily.

“Like the fact you travelled through time?”

“Of course,” You replied. “Accounting for my excellent time keeping and knowledge of the world.”

“And that you’ve been to space?” Frannie continued.

“Because I’d already been everywhere on earth.” You grinned, tucking the children into their beds.

“No, this story is about a man called the Master. He lives on a cloud, in the sky, and he’s my very special friend.”

“What’s he the Master of?” Digby asked. You chuckled to yourself.

“If you ask him, he’s the Master of everything. And he has this special power where if you look into his eyes, he can make you do whatever he says. He could make you tidy your room, or do your homework-”

“Or cluck like a chicken?” Frannie smiled. “I’ve seen somebody do that before. He was a hypnotist on stage.”

“Exactly.” You continued. “But he made a promise to me, long ago, that if I needed any help from monsters, he would come.”

“But monsters aren’t real.” Digby argued. You raised an eyebrow.

“What did I say about my stories, Digby? They are all very, very true.”

“But what about my nightmares?” Frannie asked sadly. You took her hand and nodded.

“Like I said, he made me a promise. And I think a little girl having nightmares on Christmas eve is very monstrous indeed. So, I asked him to help.”

Your eye was suddenly caught by the bellowing of the candle flame, the floorboards in the hallway squeaking as if under the strain of footsteps.

“In fact I think he’s right here. Come meet my young friends, Master!” You called, the door to the bedroom creaking open.

You waited with a hopeful smile, your heart fluttering, when all of a sudden a shrieking voice came into the room.

“THE CHILDREN HAVE BEEN VERY NAUGHTY!”

The Ice Governess screamed, her face cracking, teeth of ice bared. 

“Oh, shit!” You screamed, the children squealing in fear as you instinctively pulled them behind you, spreading your arms wide.

“Get back, get away from her!” You yelled, Frannie desperately shoving her face into your arm.

“NAUGHTY, NAUGHTY CHILDREN!”

She shrieked, Digby clinging onto your dress for dear life.

“What are we going to do?!” He cried in fear. You turned your eye towards the door, the Ice Governess creeping closer and closer.

“RUN! NOW!” you ordered, the children dropping their teddy bears in fear as you pulled them across the landing and into the children's play room, the floor full of toys and tables full of drawings. You locked the door behind you, rushing over to Frannie’s side and grasping her face in your hands.

“Frannie, listen to me, you have to picture her melting!”

“What?”

“In your head! Picture her melting into water, think it in your head!”

“Miss Montague!” Digby cried, just as the Governess slammed through the locked door and came slinking into the room.

“NAUGHTY CHILDREN MUST BE PUNISHED!” she hissed, swiping at the children with her claws as you pushed them further behind your back.

“What about your friend! The hypnotist man!”

Digby asked, clutching your arm in terror as you backed away from the Ice woman.

“I don’t know!”

“The man on the cloud! Your special friend!”

“Where’s the Master?!” Frannie joined in, shrinking behind your back and sobbing.

All of a sudden, thunderous footsteps came up the stairs, the blur of a figure in the doorway clouded by the Ice Governesses towering stature. There came a familiar, violent ZAP sound, and before your eyes the now cracking Ice Governess gave an agonised roar before exploding into a mass of powdered ice. You shielded your face as best you could, the children cowering in shock. Blinking away the shattered ice, you turned your head to stare in awe. 

Standing in the doorway in all his glory was the Master, TCE raised with pride in his hand, a familiar smug smile on his face.

Even though he was now top hatless- it was very good to see him.

“Miss me?” He asked charmingly, and you rolled your eyes.

“Always just in the nick of time, never before.” You teased, brushing the shards of ice from your dress.

“Where’s the fun in that? And I did say five minutes, technically I'm early.”

“Are you Miss Montague's special friend?” Digby asked hesitantly. 

“Are you the Master?”

“Special friend?” The Master asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Your face flushed a deep red.

“Oh, Miss Montague, what have you been telling these dear children?”

“Are you really able to look into people's eyes and tell them what to do?” Digby continued, staring at the TCE in the Master's hands. The Master was truly smirking now, turning to look in Digby's eyes. 

“Oh yes, I could. I could make you do anything I’d like if you look too close.”

Digby gasped and turned away, all while Frannie stepped closer to the Master.

“Is she really gone?” She asked timidly. “Where is she? Is she going to come back?”

The Master shrugged, reading the TCE as it whirred quietly. You peered over her shoulder, trying to see the readings yourself.

“Not likely, she’s currently draining through your carpet. I’d get it checked for mould after.”

“Why did she explode?” You asked, your hand on Frannie’s shoulder.

“New setting I need to worry about? Tissue expansion?”

The Master smirked, standing to meet your gaze.

“It just doesn’t do water. I still can’t figure out why. That’s a good idea, though, but I really wouldn’t Google it. Oh, and you’re welcome, by the way.”

You shuffled awkwardly, nodding at the Master's words.

“I wanted to get all my questions out before I thanked you. But I am really grateful, y’know. Even though I did know you’d help.”

Suddenly, the Master's face fell. He leant in closer, glaring at you with a forced fury.

“No, you didn’t. In case you’re forgetting, love, I'm not the Doctor. I don’t go around helping children and saving Christmas and granting bloody wishes. That’s not what I do. And, need I remind you, I was already investigating the snow. So you just got lucky that I happened to be here, TCE at the ready-”

The Master glanced downwards, ready to slide the device into his pocket, when he suddenly caught a shimmer of gold. Upon his ring finger once more sat his wedding band, just where it used to be. 

He twisted the ring gently, the rage instantly melting from his face.

“Oh…” He whispered to himself. 

You followed his eyes, your attention pulled from the children who’d begun to stare out of the window, the edges of the glass beginning to seal with frost. Outside, a dusting of snow began to fall, the green grass disappearing under a blanket of white. They gasped as tall snowmen began to slowly grow out of the freshly fallen snow, all the while you’d stepped even closer to the Master.

“Is everything ok?” You asked quietly, looking down at his ring. You took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Oh…” You also said. The Master nodded strangely, tilting his head.

“I um, didn’t know I’d put it on.” He said, looking up and truly meeting your eyes for the first time that evening, all bravado set aside.

“Oh… ok…” You replied.

“I think my mind just went… y’know.”

“Yeah.”

“Force of habit.”

“Absolutely.”

“Miss Montague! Master!”

The children cried in unison, pulling themselves from the window and tugging at both of your arms.

“She’s coming back!” Digby yelled.

“She’s going to punish me!” Frannie sobbed.

“Master, what do we do?!” You asked, all the while the Master was frantically trying to mess around with the settings on the TCE. Slowly, the mass beneath the carpet began to grow larger, the painful crunch of ice echoing through the dark and chilly room, the figure shifting and twitching as the Ice Governess began to build herself back up.

“Well, she’s learned to resist melting, so that’s interesting.”

“How’s she done that?!”

“It’s not really a she, more of a thing, really.” The Master corrected, clapping a hand on the shoulder of each child.

“She’s not going to punish you, Frannie, that’s ridiculous. She’s not a Governess, she’s a monster. So really, she’s going to eat you.”

You gaped at the creature, the governess shrugging off the remains of the carpet and swiping violently towards your face.

“Run!” You yelled, grasping the hands of Frannie and Digby’s hands and pulling them down the stairs. The Master followed, slamming the playroom door behind him and heading behind you down the stairs. On the bottom floor of the house, the maid was running in a frenzy, screaming about snowmen in the garden and a strange man at the door. Captain Latimer had stormed out of his study, eyebrows furrowed and furious as he waited at the bottom of the stairs.

“Miss Montague, what on earth do you think you’re doing? Would you care to explain why the children are out of bed at such an hour- who the devil are you?!”

You turned around to see the Master stomping down the steps, sliding past you and bracing hold of the bannister. He stared deep into Captain Latimer's eyes, his gaze piercing deep into the man's mind, his voice loud and clear. Captain Later froze in place, transfixed at the Masters gaze. He couldn't pull away even if he wanted to.

“I am the Master, and you will obey me. Take your screaming maid and your children into the parlour, lock the doors and keep an eye on the snowmen outside. Under no circumstances are any of you to leave that room until I say so. Oh, and you’ll stop relying on my wife to parent your children when you can’t be bothered to, and you’ll put more effort into your children. Understood?”

The blush returned to your face once more as the Captain followed his orders, the Master's hypnotic suggestion the only thing he now knew. Digby clapped his hands together as you ushered the children into the room, staring at the Master with mesmerised eyes.

“Did you use your hypnosis powers on my father?”

“Yes, Digby, he did.” You answered, not trusting the answer the Master was about to give.

“And did he call you his wife?” Frannie asked, causing your blush to further deepen and your heart to race at lightning speed.

“Yes, he did that too. But you need to listen to what he said. Don’t leave that room, not even for a second. Those snowmen outside are very dangerous, and I don’t want either of you to be hurt by them or the Ice lady. Promise me?”

The Latimer children nodded quickly, Digby turning to look at the Master once again, who was anticipating the return of the distantly screaming Ice Governess.

“Can you make him cluck like a chicken too?”

“Not the time!” You interjected, Once again not trusting the Master’s answer, even with his confused expression. Once everybody was inside, the Master gripped the top of your arm.

“Stay here with them.”

He ordered, before letting go once more. The Master headed back into the hallway, and you were hot on his heels. You watched as the Master pressed a button on the TCE, aiming it at the top of the stairs as the Ice Governess came thundering down them. A shuddering wall of red energy blasted into existence, creating a barrier between the Ice Governess and the bottom of the staircase, the frozen creature slamming itself against the wall and hissing.

“MISS ME!?” It shrieked, staring down at the Master.

“How long will that hold?” You asked, and the Master turned around in shock.

“Oi, do I have to hypnotise you too? I told you to stay inside.”

“Oh, well I didn’t listen.”

“You really enjoy disobeying me, don’t you dear?”

You smiled fondly, the gap between the pair of you closing faster and faster.

“Yeah, I do. It’s one of the things that make you love me.”

“Oh, is it really?”

“Afraid so, Master.”

“Who said I love you?”

The gap between you both was non existent. You met each others eyes, your own heart pounding at lightning speed, your breath caught in your throat as stared the Master down, each of you daring the other to move first. The Masters lips parted, and you instantly took your chance, colliding your lips together as your hands reached to grasp hold of his face. The Master sank into the kiss with no restraint, quickly taking charge as his hands reached to grasp hold of your corseted waist. He pushed his lips against your own, your noses slotting next to each other to close the distance even further. All the while, the Ice Governess shrieked and slammed her face into the wall, the breath escaping from your lungs as you poured every part of your soul into the Master's touch. But soon you needed air, your lips breaking from one another but your touch remaining strong. You stared at the Master, and the Timelord returned the gaze, the silence between you thick and unbearable as your foreheads stayed pushed together.

“I keep my ring on a chain and wear it everyday.” You blurted, your cheeks burning hot. The Master smiled, chuckling softly as he brushed the hair from your face. He always did that. You loved him doing that.

“Of course you did.” He teased, “You always were so sentimental, love.”

“I just couldn’t, I don’t know why-”

“I know.” The Master said, rather softly. “I-”

Suddenly, the front door bell rang once again, the ringing invasive and persistent. The Master scowled, his hands pulling themselves from your waist as he clenched his hands into fists, his fingers still curled around the TCE in his grasp. He always hated being interrupted. This time was no different. He stormed towards the doorway, shoulders pushing back, his chin raised high. This time you hung back, watching from a distance, the Ice lady still screaming from her spot at the top of the stairs. 

The Master swung the door open, his glare palpable as a stranger stood in the doorway. A stranger to you, perhaps, but the Master seemed to know him well. Well enough for the tension to feel worthy of cutting with a sword, let alone a knife.

“Release the Ice woman to us.” The stranger said, his face solemn and eyes full of determination.

“You have five minutes.”

The stranger turned away with no further word, and the Master slammed the door shut with a furious heave.

“Who was that?” You asked hurriedly, following the Master as he headed towards the bottom of the stairs.

“Doctor Simeon. A very old enemy of the Doctor. And now, a very new enemy of mine. I don’t think he’s keen to be business partners anymore.”

“Why, what did you do?”

The Master smiled weakly, scratching at the back of his neck.

“I may have, possibly… turned up at his house, killed all his staff, and ransacked his personal files while insulting him to his face.”

“Wonderful.”

“All while dressed up as Sherlock Holmes.”

“I’m sure- what? Why?”

“What?”

“Why did you dress up as Sherlock Holmes?”

“Because I was investigating! We’d already had a bit of a disagreement earlier, I needed a suitable disguise.”

“But Sherlock Holmes? Really?”

The Master threw his hands in the air, exasperated. You could hardly contain your smirk.

“Who else? It’s the nineteenth century, for god’s sake. I couldn’t exactly go as Batman or Scooby bloody Doo, could I?”

The Master turned back to the bottom of the staircase, glancing up at the Ice Governess. She was still shrieking, slamming herself into the energy wall, hissing and baring her fangs. You blinked away all previous confusion, following the Master’s gaze.

“Right. All that aside, explain him to me- he wants the ice woman?”

“No, the snow wants the ice woman. He’s just the one working with the snow. And we need to keep her away from them or else.”

“I’m hoping you have a plan.”

The Master rolled his eyes, snatching an umbrella from the umbrella stand and lightly hitting you on the head with it. You gaped with confusion, your hands instinctively reaching out to take the umbrella from the Master's hands, turning your attention back to the Ice Governess.

“If the snow gets ahold of her, it’s goodbye to you lot. She’s the perfect blueprint for the snow in human form, human DNA mixed with Ice. You can’t exactly take over the earth with hunks of wet mush, can you? Imagine the carnage during a heat wave. But a humanoid figure, made of ice, that won’t melt? Oh, you could work such magic.`”

“She can’t stay here, then.” You argued. “Not with the children in the house, we’ll all be massacred.”

“As long as she’s out, but away from the snow, nobody’s getting massacred. I need you to stay in the parlour, watch the snow and for once, do as you’re told.”

The Master said, raising the TCE to the shimmering red wall. The wall disappeared into nothingness, shuddering out of existence. You stepped up to join the Masters side just as he pointed the TCE behind him once more, the shimmering wall reappearing at the very bottom of the stairs. The Masters double take was almost comical, his eyes rolling deeply into his head as he stared at you expectantly.

“Seriously?!” He asked, but you didn’t have time to reply. The ice lady swung at your head, causing you to duck beneath her arm, and the Master's hand clasped hold of your own in an ironclad grip.

“MISS ME?!” The Ice Governess screamed, the Master charging up the stairs and dragging you along with him.

“Why don’t you ever listen?” He yelled, almost tripping over the top step.

“Because you always tell me to do stuff I don’t want to do!” You replied, almost tripping over the same step right afterwards.  The Master stopped on the landing, staring at you incredulously as he dropped your hand.

“Oh great, we’re back together two seconds and there’s already a row.”

“We’re what?!” You asked, startled, the Ice Governess close behind.

“MISS ME?!” She hissed again, swiping up the stairs.

“Ok, why does she keep doing that?”

“Mirroring, it’s random mimicry- we need to get on the roof!”

“THIS WAY!”

You grasped the Master's hand once again, dragging him up a second flight of stairs towards the third floor, the Master flailing behind as he resisted the tug of your arm. You pivoted on the landing, pointing wildly at the distant reading nook beneath the large stained glass window.

“That window!”

“Give!” He gestured to the umbrella, which you had no idea you were still holding onto. You threw it in his direction and the Master grabbed it with ease. He headed straight towards the window, clunkily clambering his way through the open glass and planting his feet on the small area of flat roofing between the two gables. You attempted to follow, climbing onto the bench and leaning through the open pane of glass, when you felt your dress bunch up at the side and snag upon the hinges. You tried to pull yourself free, yanking against the resistance, all to no avail. You let out a panicked whine, and the Master spun around in confusion.

“Oi, c’mon, what are you doing?”

“My bustle is stuck!” You replied, yanking harder on the side of the window and sending the Master a panicked expression. 

“Oh, for crying out loud!” The Master rolled his eyes, running over to the window and throwing his arms around your waist and yanking backwards. With two yanks you were pulled free, gravity snatching command of your body as you tumbled forwards on top of the Masters chest, the Timelord ending up flat on his back on top of the snow coated roof.

You gaped down at him, the familiar heat of your blush returning.

“Y’know, things would go so much smoother if you took that dress off.” The Master suggested, his hand resting on the small of your back. You gasped, pulling away and sending him a curious expression.

“And risk me catching my death for your amusement?”

“I’d find it more attractive than amusing, honestly.”

“Right, hold on, I'm so confused.” Raising yourself to stand, you pushed off from the Masters chest. The Timelord stood up, watching as you brushed down your dress and snatched the umbrella from his grasp.

“First you tell me the only reason you’re here is because I got lucky, then you call me your wife again, then you tell me to stay away, then you kiss me and start flirting again.”

“Now?!” The Master yelled, eyes wide.

“You want to discuss all this right now?!”

“Because this is another test, I can feel it! You’re testing me!” You yelled back, gesturing wildly with the umbrella.

“Am I really!?”

“Yes! You’re always playing mind games. This is a test!”

“MISS ME?!” The Ice Governess was once more at the window, growling and snarling with her razor sharp icicle teeth.

“Master, now would be a great time for that plan!”

“Why would I tell you if it’s a test?”

You stared at him in disbelief, eyes widening.

“What?!”

The Master shrugged, folding his arms across his chest.

“If you think this is a test, it’s a test. You think I've got a plan, tell me what it is.”

“What’ll happen if I fail?”

“Well, it’ll kill you, and I'll end up wasting another body.”

“Not good then.”

“Understatement of the century, love. C’mon, do I have a plan?”

The Ice Governess had begun to disappear through the window into a cloud of ice shards, rematerializing herself from the ground up on the roof top, rebuilding herself shard by shard. You looked back towards the Master who was waiting expectantly. You put your mind into action. There had to be clues, you could figure out exactly what he was testing you on. Your chest was pounding as you thought hard, the Masters watching eyes heavy as you slowly began to piece everything together.

“Less than thirty seconds, love. I suggest you hurry or we’ll be dead where we stand.”

Stand. That was it! Where you stand! The lightbulb had officially gone off in your brain.

“If we wanted to escape we’d have gone either down the building or through the back door.”

“Interesting-”

“And if we wanted to hide, we’d be on the other side of the roof.”

“Keep going-”

“But we decided to climb here. Small space, not much room for a run up. But we brought THIS!”

You gestured with the umbrella once again, the Master grinning with devious pride as you swung the umbrella into the sky, the handle hooking itself firmly onto the bottom rung of the ladder. With a grunt you yanked the ladder down to plant its feet on the top of the building, the metal legs sinking into the snow as you brandished the ladder with pride. The Ice Governess had almost completely reassembled herself, the gust of frozen wind floating dangerously through the air.

“Call for a TARDIS?”

The Master hummed triumphantly. 

“Never doubted you for a second.”

“After you.”

“No, after you, I insist.”

You grasped hold of the ladder, laughing at the Master's ever growing grin.

“After you, I’m wearing a dress!”

“Why do you think I’m insisting you first?”

“Master, get up that ladder before I hit you with this umbrella.”

The Master chuckled, grasping hold of the rungs of the ladder and beginning the ascending climb. You watched him creep up higher and higher, tilting your head and smiling as you watched from beneath.

“Those pants do wonders for your ass, Master.”

The Masters ascent paused upon the ladder, his head turning over his shoulder to face you with a scandalised expression.

“Miss Montague, a little professionalism!”

“Never.” You stuck out your tongue in return. The Ice Governess had assumed her full form once again, letting out a beastly howl as she began to shuffle across the roof. With an elegant hop you stood upon the bottom rung of the ladder, clearing your throat and smiling sweetly.

“Termination of life comes with termination of employment, I'm afraid. Check your contract.” You mused, the Ice Governess snarling.

“In other words, get your own job. Cheerio!”

The umbrella tapped twice against the ladder, and you began to ascend up into the skies, the feet of the ladder disturbing the snow once again. The Ice Governess swiped furiously at your feet, growling into the air as you followed the ladder to the very top of the metal platform. The Master's hands were there to catch you, yanking you from the top of the top of the ladder and dragging you towards the base of the grand, spiralling staircase.

“Wait, you can move the cloud?” 

You asked, peering over the railing and watching the Ice Governess squirm. The Master shook his head, pulling you further towards the stairs and hooking the umbrella upon the closest railing.

“Don’t be ridiculous, nobody can move clouds. Anyone who says they can is a liar.”

“But what about the Cyber rain? Missy did it.”

The Master turned his head, visible debate on his face.

“They were Cyber clouds. Totally different. Real clouds? Not a chance. But the wind? Ever so slightly.”

The metal platform suddenly began to jolt, and you grabbed hold of the railing to steady yourself. In the few moments you’d taken your eyes off the Ice Governess, she’d managed to climb onto the ladder and begin scaling each rung. You looked at the Master in fear, the timelord nodding in agreement with something totally unknown.

“Good, she’s following us! Up we go!”

“Why is that a good thing?!” You called after him, the Master already scaling the steps like a madman.

“There’s no snow where we’re going!”

The two of you launched into a full sprint, keeping a tight grip on the bannister to stop yourself from tripping up on either the steps, your dress, or the Masters feet ahead of you. The Ice Governess was almost to the top of her own ladder, the view of London below becoming more and more incredible with each step you took. It was like the city was alive, glowing under the light of street lamps and fires, the denizens keeping as warm as they could on such a cold Christmas eve. You could see the pub from this high, not like anyone below would be able to see you.

“So, how long have you been a governess?” The Master asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Oh, not long. A few months?” You replied.

“But you moonlight as a barmaid in a shitty pub?”

“You want to have this chat now?” You asked, mirroring the Master's early sentiment. The Master paused on the stairs, turning his body to face you.

“We can’t chat if we’ve been massacred, can we?”

“You said there’d be no massacre!”

“It was a rare bit of positive optimism on my part, hope you don’t mind.”

You swiftly returned to your ascent, suddenly noticing you’d scaled about 100 steps in a few seconds. You gaped at the skyline, everything around you looking like a miniature model, something the Master would happily display upon one of his many shelves. How could you have possibly gotten so high so quickly?

“I’m barely out of breath!” You called.

“Good, glad to know you’re keeping fit.”

“But how are we so high? We were barely off the ground!”

“Magic staircase.” The Master replied, making you groan.

“Hey, I could’ve said it’s taller on the inside, count your blessings.”

“What exactly is it we’re standing on?” You asked, stepping onto the cloud with far more ease than you did the first time.

 The Master crouched down, sticking his head through the layer of cloud before pulling himself back up again. He pulled the TCE from his pocket with ease, aiming it at the mouth of the staircase. You peered over his shoulder as the layer of cloud began to converge, collecting itself over the beginning of the staircase, forming a protective layer and sealing the entrance to the stairs shut.

“The same technology that kept her on the stairs. Super dense water vapour, that’ll keep her out for a while.”

The Master stood, slipping the TCE back inside his pocket and cracking his knuckles. The TARDIS loomed in the distance, gleaming even with her dirty exterior, a monument on the top of the cloud layer. The Master shoved his hands in his pockets, stepping up the porch steps and pushing open the door to the shack, wandering inside the TARDIS without a care in the world. But you held back, looking through the open doorway, the red glow of the central console looming through the dark of the porch.

 You waited, standing in conflict, your heart pounding a hole in your chest as your gut attempted to dig itself into the centre of the earth. After all this time, a part of you didn’t want to see the inside of the old girl. You didn’t want to know if he’d erased all signs of you. You didn’t want to know if he’d tried to move on.

The Master reemerged from the inside, staring at you curiously. He stood in the doorway, a barrier to the internal glow of the ship. He studied your expression carefully, watching the internal conflict play out with every single microexpression upon the face he’d memorised so well.

“You said if I walked out that door I'd never step foot inside again.” 

Your words broke the silence. The Master nodded, swallowing the lump that had attempted to take refuge within his throat.

“I did. If I recall, I was pretty angry at the time.”

“So was I. You were a bit of a-”

“Short fuse, yeah.” The Master finished. 

You gave a small laugh, a faint sound that bled into the wind. You stood in a deafening silence for what felt like eternity, until the Master softly jutted his head to the side.

“C’mon.” He said quietly. He was inviting you inside. Finally.

You took no time in crossing over towards the porch, the Master stepping inside the TARDIS, allowing you to follow. You stepped over the threshold, feeling the wave of warmth hit your skin, like the heat when you step off an aeroplane. It was tropical compared to outside, the console room still as eclectically cluttered as ever. The piles of previous interests, the posters, the mementos, the projects, the plans. The TARDIS was exactly the same as the day you’d left it. The walls of the ship began to hum, the engines whining and whirring, chirping a welcome. She was obviously glad you were back. She was proclaiming you were home.

“You should’ve heard her last night.” The Master said, leaning against the hexagonal console unit, the square time rotor buzzing with lights.

“I thought she’d blown an engine.”

“You haven’t changed a thing.” You replied. The Master nodded, following your gaze as you admired the walls around you. You spotted a large investigation board in the corner, a small smile crossing your lips. You knew he’d have one of those. Even if it didn’t have-

“I thought the red thread would be a bit much.” The Master said, finishing your thought. You turned to face the Time lord. He’d pushed himself from the console and was now standing in front of you, studying your eyes once more.

“It would’ve been fun.” You replied.

“I would’ve insisted. If I'd been here when you’d put it up.”

“You can be here now, if you want.”

The Master's reply caught you off guard. You felt your lips part, your tongue trying to find the words your brain was currently mixing into an incomprehensible soup. You fought to string together a sentence that could encompass everything you felt, every question you had, every thought that was crossing your mind. Something that would explain everything.

“Why did you stay?” Was the sentence that won.

“You had the TARDIS. You could have left me here, gone off back into the universe, gone back to harassing the Doctor and causing chaos. But you didn’t. You built yourself a magic staircase and a movable cloud, and you stayed. Why?”

The Master pressed his lips into a thin line, and you could tell his mind was attempting the same brew. You could always tell when the Master was thinking and masking his thoughts at the same time, his eyes would squint ever so slightly, his lips would part like he was waiting to announce whatever plan he’d concocted. Instead of a grand plan, a small, earnest smile spread itself across the Master's face. 

“Because I couldn’t leave.” He said in return.

“But you could.”

“No, I couldn’t. I really tried. I left for a day. Right after you’d left, I tried to take myself away. I went and watched a planet burn, some insignificant micro nation. I tried to enjoy their armageddon, I really did. But I couldn’t.”

“Why?” You asked softly. The Master tilted his head, his look practically begging you to figure out the obvious, his mouth unwilling to articulate the thought he was so desperate not to share. You stepped closer, realisation washing over you.

“Because… I wasn’t there?”

“What fun is performing with no audience? Spreading chaos, with nobody there to help?” The Master asked. You already knew the answer.

“I came back, hoping you’d see the error of your judgement and want to come back here, work it all out. But… I might have underestimated your stubbornness.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“Or, maybe I was a little too… cruel. Then, things started happening. Alien, evil things and you know me, never one to let a good bit of chaos go. It was pretty tempting, ending the world at the turn of the twentieth century. But once again, I couldn’t enjoy myself.”

“And because you were bored, you decided to… try and save Earth?”

The Master shook his head awkwardly.

“I like to call it… preserving certain important timelines. I am a Timelord, after all.”

“Hold on.” You said, the small smile upon your face slowly growing into a full grin.

“Preserving timelines? You’ve never cared about the laws of time, that’s your whole thing. Who’s timeline could you possibly care that much about?”

The Masters' all knowing gaze returned, and you felt the knot in your stomach explode into a colony of butterflies. You stepped even closer, your hand reaching to cup the Masters cheek. His skin was warm against your palm. The touch sent a surge of electricity though your skin.

“Master?..” You asked softly. 

“Did you turn down destroying the Earth because It would mean I didn’t exist anymore?”

The Master's lips pressed into a thin line, his stare able to see a thousand yards in front. You could feel the heat burning in his cheeks, every ounce of him squirming with uncomfortable realisation, his shoulders almost reaching his ears.

“That… may or may not have been a factor.” He lied through his teeth.

“You old romantic.”

You laughed softly, reaching to grasp the other side of his face and pull him into a kiss. This kiss was much softer, every word the pair of you had been desperate to say spreading across your lips. The Masters tension disappeared with every second, your foreheads pushing together as you felt your heart finally steady into an easy rhythm. His hands had snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, refusing to let you go. You could sense the warmth he held within his body pass into your own, everything slotting into place exactly where it should be. Everybody slotting into place exactly where they should. When he finally pulled away from your lips, the Master refused to stop. Pressing small, chaste kisses to the side of your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut. Everything felt right again, like the itch you’d been struggling to scratch had been satiated. Like you were home again.

“Travel with me.” The Master whispered between pecks.

“Run away with me. Stay with me.”

Softly, you nodded against his touch, returning his soft kisses with one of your own.

“Yes.” You replied. The Master sighed in content, pulling his face from your own and pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“I still have your shawl, by the way.” He admitted. You gave a short giggle.

“Thankyou for keeping it safe for me. Next time I have to sneak around, I’ll make sure not to lose any of my disguise.”

“Don’t worry, I think I left my Deerstalker in Doctor Simeon’s office.”

You smiled, watching him excitedly pull away from your person, circling around to the console and fiddling with the buttons and levers, the TARDIS chirping and lighting up with jubilation. 

“Oh love, we’re going to have so much fun. You’ll see. So many places to go!”

You felt yourself fiddling with the chain under your dress, your fingers scratching at the chain that hung loosely around your neck. You pulled it from under your collar, the ring shimmering in the TARDIS light, your heart feeling like it could burst with joy out of your chest. You’d kept it with you for so long, unwilling to part with the most beautiful piece of jewellery you’d ever seen. Reaching for the lobster clasp, you pulled the chain from your neck, the Masters exuberant ramblings a distant sound as you admired the glittering wedding ring. You needed to ask him to put it back on. You needed to do it correctly.

Suddenly, you felt yourself jolting backwards, the ring flying from your grasp and clattering onto the floor. You let out a shocked yelp, the freezing touch of clawed hands wrapped under your shoulders, dragging you back towards the door and out of the TARDIS.

“MISS ME?!” the voice behind you squawked, your eyes widening with fear.

The Master's head shot up from the console, his eyes equally widening in horror as he saw the Ice Governess begin to drag you back towards the edge of the cloud.

“NO!” he shouted, launching himself towards the door, his TCE raised and aimed at the snarling creature of ice.

“Master!” You cried, hand reaching towards the Timelord.

“Get off of me!”

“Let her go!”

The Ice Governess hissed, yanking you harder, your fingers desperately trying to pry her claws from their spot digging into your shoulder.

“The snow learns, I should have realised-” The Master hurriedly uttered. “She’d learnt to resist water vapour after being trapped on the stairs. Let her go!”

“Get off!” You pleaded, your face contorted in fear as you saw the Ice Governess teetering near the edge of the cloud.

“Let her go. Let her go now! NOW!”

“Master!” You cried, mouth parting in a terrified scream.

“NO, Y/N-” the Master yelled, his hand outstretched. If he could just grab hold of you, if he could just pull you back- but the ground disappeared from beneath your feet before he could reach. You felt the wind rushing past your ears as you tumbled to the ground, the distant call of the Master screaming your name. Everything seemed to slow down, the London skyline consuming you as you fell faster and faster, your life flashing before your eyes. Every happy thought, every fear, every nightmare, every dream- every part of you flickered across the forefront of your mind, arm still stretched to the heavens as you collided with the snow covered earth, the world around you disappearing with the wheeze of the TARDIS as the abyss swallowed you whole.

It was a low light that surrounded you the first time you woke again. The soft touch of a palm on your forehead, the gentle caress of a thumb on the back of your hands. Your eyes blinked open, the pain in your head a throbbing percussion, your sense of time thrown to the wayside. But the Master was there, waiting for you, smiling gently as you slowly became acclimated to the familiar sight of the Latimer parlour.

“How’s your head?” The Master asked. 

You turned your head to see Frannie and Digby hugging the maid with a tight grip. You shook your head with a smile.

“Not in front of the children, Master.” You replied, every word as painful as they were cathartic.

“Am I going to die?” You asked. The Master laughed softly.

“Such a mood killer. I was going to keep it light with innuendo and small talk.”

“You never talk small.” You wheezed. The Master grinned.

“See, you still have all your memories. I think you’ll be just fine.”

“How do you know?”

Reaching into his top pocket, the Master produced something shimmering, even in the dark of the parlour. On close inspection you could see it was your ring, having slipped off of the chain after hitting the floor.

“Because I haven’t put this back on your finger. And I'm very persistent when I want things to be done.”

The Master took hold of your hand, ready to slip the ring onto your finger, when your other hand stopped him from doing so.

“You haven’t asked me.” You whispered. “You need to ask me before you put that on.”

The Master huffed lightly out of his nose, leaning in closer and holding up the ring.

“Y/N, will you marry me… again?”

You blinked softly, staring longingly at the ring.

“Are you going to stop the world from ending?” You replied, the Master raising an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected that response.

“Preserving the timelines… and all that?”

The Master nodded, finally understanding.

“Maybe. If I do, will you say yes?”

You took the ring from the Masters fingers, clutching the small band between your trembling fingers and holding it longingly within your palm.

“Go save the world, help children, grant Christmas wishes.” You ordered, the Master chuckling at his own words from earlier.

“If you win, I’ll still be here to give you an answer when you get back.”

The Master leaned in closer still, your noses almost touching.

“Is that a promise?”

He asked. You smiled, lifting your finger to draw two crosses over the Masters chest.

“Cross your hearts.”

“You’re supposed to cross your own, Love.” The Master said. You shook your head the best you could.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Master.” You replied, before your eyes fluttered shut once again, the feeling of the Masters lips on your forehead the last sensation in your mind.

The Master returned once more that evening. The cuts and bruises upon his body had managed to heal, leaving behind traces of crimson and memories intangible. He’d worked as fast as he could, defeating the evil with everything he had. He’d returned to the Latimer household just before midnight. But by then you were almost gone. Whatever he’d done to keep you stable had done all it could, and now you were in your final moments.

 The children were crying, the same tears that had melted the snow minutes before. The Master walked towards the Captain, meeting his eyes and taking control.

“You’re going to stand up, and you’re going to comfort your children. You’ll be the father they need right now. When you go to bed, you’ll wake tomorrow and not remember a thing. But you’ll be there when they need you.” He commanded, the Captain blinking as if waking up from the strangest of dreams. 

The Master stepped over the old carpet to stand by your bedside, crouching down to rest his chin on his arms, looking over at the Latimer children who were tearfully looking right back.

“Is she?...” Digby daren’t finish his question. The Master sighed.

“Almost.” 

Frannie let out a small sob, her fathers arms surrounding her as best they could. Which, thanks to the Master, was the best they’d ever been. In their eyes, he saw utter heartbreak. Two children, who’s cries had unknowingly saved the day, sobbing over the one human the Master could bring himself to care for. Pushing aside every piece of hatred he had for humans, and crying, he knew what he had to do.

“Tell me about her.” The Master said. “Tell me about Miss Montague.”

Digby wiped his eyes with his sleeve, looking at the Master with a sniffle.

“She was kind. She always told us stories… totally true ones.”

“What stories did she tell you?” He replied. Digby smiled weakly.

“That she’d been to space.” Frannie mumbled against her fathers chest.

“She said she’d been to every country in the world.”

“And that she lived in a time machine that could take her anywhere she liked, and that she’d fought monsters and robots and met aliens. But I know that it wasn’t true.”

The Master chuckled, smiling at the young boy. How foolish. How human. How wonderfully presumptuous.

“Oh, but it is.” He replied. “Every story’s true. Your governess is really a time traveller. She’s really my wife, and we live in a ship called the TARDIS. And guess what?”

“What?” The two children asked. The Master's smile widened.

“I’m an alien.”

“No way.” Digby whispered in disbelief. The Master nodded, chuckling.

“Yes way, Digby. I’m from a distant planet in the stars. I have two hearts, and I'm nearly 2000 years old.”

“But you don’t look old.” Frannie said. The Master smirked.

“I’ve got a good Doctor.” He said, a joke only he would understand.

“She told you about my ability to hypnotise people, but I also have a power that keeps me alive. It’s a power that means every time I get hurt, I can fix it. See?” The master pointed to the ghost of a cut on his forehead. All that was left was a dribble of dried blood. The wound was completely healed.

“But sometimes, I get hurt pretty badly. Or I get really, really old. Then I have to change my entire body. I may act a little differently, but I’m still me. It’s called regeneration.”

“Is Miss Montague an alien?” Digby asked softly. The Master chuckled, shaking his head.

“No, Digby. Just me.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Frannie asked, sitting up in the Captain's arms.

The Master stood over your bedside, your chest rising and falling in only the faintest rhythm. He pushed the hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear and brushing down the side of your face. He turned once more to look at the Latimer children, raising his right hand lightly in the air.

“Because, humans, I'm about to do something incredible. And nobody will ever believe you.”

Ever so slowly, the Master began to wiggle his fingertips, his eyes fluttering shut as he concentrated hard. The children watched in wonder as the Master's hand began to be engulfed in a glittering, golden glow, the ethereal shimmer floating into the air and travelling down the Timelords arm. He gave a small grunt as the regeneration energy began to shimmer through his other hand, the energy coursing through his body like the warm kiss of the sun, the heat touching every part of his body as he focused desperately on what he needed to do. The Master leant down towards your face, his glowing hands taking soft purchase of your cheeks, the once silent room alight with the hum of regeneration. 

“You better have a good answer for me after this.”

Gently, the Masters lips connected with your own, his nose slotting beside your own as he focussed on what he wanted. He felt the beat of your heart within his mind, his desire stitching you back together, his will making you whole. He was the Master, and even if you weren't going to obey him, the powers of regeneration certainly were.

 He couldn’t remember what number body he was on. He’d been through that many, stealing some and mutilating others.  He’d abused his regenerative capabilities to a degree that would make even Rassilon impressed. But now, he needed them to be accurate more than ever. He kissed until he had no air left in his lungs, pulling away from your body with hope etched across his expression.

 He waited, the single moment feeling like a lifetime, his gaze not turning away from you for a second.

The clock in the parlour struck the final knell of 12. It was Christmas morning.

Your eyes flew open with a start.

You gasped for air, the world knitting itself back together through your eyelashes, the exhale of relief that escaped the Master enough to blow over the strongest of structures. Your fingers reached to clutch the Master's hands, the ring laying perfectly upon your chest.

“I saved the world. It’s a bloody Christmas miracle” The Master whispered above you.

“It felt pretty strange, though. After Missy and tonight, I don’t think I want to do it again.”

You laughed quietly, your sense of self returning once more, the sensation of the Masters lips still lingering on your own. Lingering with the sensation of hope. Of life. Something the Master didn’t usually excel in. But he often worked in mysterious ways.

“And I saved you. Not to rush your reincarnation, but I still don’t have an answer…”

The Master lifted the ring from your chest, holding it between his fingers. You chuckled softly, raising your hand to meet it.

“Yes.” You replied. “Yes, yes, yes.”

The Master grinned victoriously, sliding the ring upon your finger. Back where it belonged.

“I feel like I could run a marathon.”

You admitted, smirking deviously as the Master leaned in closer.

“Or, do something else.”

The Master gave a side glance to Frannie and Digby, who were still staring at the Master in amazement. The maid had fainted once more, and Captain Latimer was still under the Master's spell, whether he knew it or not. The Master turned back towards you with a raised eyebrow.

“Miss Montague, not in front of the children.” He chastised. 

You gave a small giggle. It was music to the Masters ears.

[devilevlls]

Lucifer’s lewd habits౨ৎ

Nobody asked for this one, but I can’t stop my mind from wondering about Lucifer’s kinks and preferences, so… I’m posting some of it.

(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) Probably going to make part.2 if I remember more things.

Everything here is consensual. I’m talking about a scenario where both of you are aware of each other’s boundaries.

📌 TW: Shameless smut, explicit descriptions of lustful acts, intercourse. 

Tried to keep it gender-neutral.

๋࣭⭑Lucifer is the shameless type of guy, the one that will grip into your hair or neck while you are making out and slowly push you down, asking for a blowjob without words. He won’t stop pushing until you finally reach the goal.

He likes it slow, going deep, and will groan when you suddenly circle your tongue over his tip, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum.

๋࣭⭑I think he is someone who doesn’t like PDA while others are looking, but while in public, without catching any attention, he will twist your nipples over your shirt just to see them hardening. He will chuckle and mock you, whispering into your ear on how easy you are.

๋࣭⭑He will make you beg for him to take you, I’m not saying just playfully, but almost making it annoying/painful. Lucifer is a sadist, so, for him, seeing you actually getting mad for wanting to have sex was pure entertainment.

๋࣭⭑Loves shower sex, Despite his busy schedule, whenever he finds a free moment, he'll send you messages inviting you to shower together.

๋࣭⭑Accidentally spread his wings when too excited or too close to an intense orgasm. He won’t be embarrassed tho, but it can startle you a little o_o

๋࣭⭑Will give you lustful stares when you are talking in public, and will smirk when noticing the growing blush on your cheeks.

๋࣭⭑Purposefully rubs himself against you while “helping” you reach for something and lets you feel his intimacy throbbing with excitement. (I headcanon that the house of lamentation has big furniture, since they are slightly taller than average humans)

๋࣭⭑Loves when you worship his body, his red eyes gleaming with amusement as he observes your lips showering him with kisses.

๋࣭⭑Probably will ask you to kneel down and brush his shoes against your intimate area, enjoying every whimper, every gasp you let escape from your lips.

๋࣭⭑While being the top, Lucifer will grab your hips with force and slam himself into you repeatedly, just to painfully slow down, making him slide in and out. Will chuckle seeing your needy reactions.

๋࣭⭑If he is the bottom, he will make sure to edge you, circling his hips on your lap slowly, making it go deep and then stop, feeling how your body tense with the feeling of almost reaching the peak and calming down again, never reaching the goal.

Plus for MC's habits with him౨ৎ

๋࣭⭑MC boldly grasps his horns as they engage in heated make out sections, unapologetically reveling in the sensation of pushing him to his limits. They adore the subtle frown that crosses his face as he submits to their dominance, though it's clear he thoroughly enjoys it.

๋࣭⭑Casually grabbing Lucifer’s ass as he walks by or while he is trying to give a serious speech. They would take care not to embarrass him in front of anyone tho, just silly moments where they know this would be possible, and they will only receive a threatening glare from the avatar of pride.

๋࣭⭑Nibbling on his ears. For me, Lucifer is a touch starved old man that gets shivers from almost anything, so nibbling on his ears would make him yelp softly, and he will blush if someone is around and hears it.

๋࣭⭑Will steal pecks from him while he is trying to scold them, making his cold heart melt little by little and as they notice him getting excited, they will rub him over his clothes, making the demon whimper softly.

IDK if there are grammar errors, wasn't really trying hard for this one, just wanted to share my thoughts.

Masterlistɞ 📌

[mallowsweetmiri]

• One of the Boys •

Reader x Fred Weasley

Based off of Katy Perry’s song “One of the Boys”

Word count: 3.5k

Summary: You’ve always been one of the boys. That was until you came back from summer break looking a bit, different, as Fred puts it.

Warnings: cursing, mildly steamy scenario

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

One of the boys

“Today was bloody brilliant!” Fred cheered and clapped you on the back as he raised his cup to Gryffindor. Practically the whole school was shoved in your common room to celebrate the quidditch cup.

“To Gryffindor!” Oliver bellowed drunkly as everyone drank and cheered.

“Seriously, Y/N, you played fucking amazing today,” Angelina bellowed, downing the rest of her drink.

“I can second that. Since when did you get so bloody good, little one?” George smiled as he put his arm around you. The twins had always been your good friends, the three of you joining the Gryffindor quidditch team in your third years. They’d often referred to you as little one, due to the fact that they towered over you. They constantly teased and pranked you, but you would also join in on their antics. More often than not, you guys were playing quidditch during the warm seasons and pranking Filch in the winter. You were really just one of the boys and you couldn���t be more happy to be a part of their mischief.

“I’ve always been good, Georgie. But I will admit, this was probably my best game yet,” you beamed as you joined the rest in downing your drink.

“You’re only that good thanks to our rigorous coaching throughout the years,” Fred smiled wryly, filling his own cup up again. You rolled your eyes.

“Yea right, Weasley. The two of you combined still wouldn’t be as good as me,” you challenged. The three of you went back and forth all night, drinking and laughing and celebrating Gryffindors victory. The high spirits continued throughout the week and before you knew it you were saying goodbye to all your friends at platform 9 and 3/4.

“Oh! So good to see you sweetie,” Molly smiled warmly as she dragged you into a tight hug, “Have a good summer, we’ll see you in the fall! Say goodbye boys.” Fred and George both approached you and each gave you a quick hug before heading out with the Weasley family.

“See you next year little one!” George called out.

“Don’t skimp out on the quidditch practice, Y/N! You could use it,” Fred shouted, giving you a cheeky smile and a wave. You rolled your eyes and sent a smile back before meeting with your own family and heading home for the summer.

3 months later

You checked yourself out in the mirror one last time and smoothed the top of your hair flat.

“Come on, Y/N! You’re going to miss the train,” your dad called from downstairs.

“Coming!”

Over the summer you had grown a considerable amount. Your dad had been teasing you about how much time you spent in the bathroom getting ready, but you didn’t care. For once in your life you actually felt pretty. Your body had begun to fill out in all the right places and your hair had grown out well past your shoulders now. You had started to shave your legs and wear perfume. You had even bought new clothes as you had outgrown your old wardrobe. All of this had instilled you with a newfound confidence that had you beaming. As you walked onto platform 9 and 3/4, you wore a fitted long sleeve shirt and some new low waisted jeans. You had blown out your hair into soft falling curls and you had even applied some lip gloss. You were excited to start your sixth year with all your friends and your new look.

“Bye guys! I’ll see you for Christmas,” you hugged your family before loading your trunks on the train. As you put your final trunk into the train, someone called your name from behind.

“Y/N?”

You turned around to see Fred and George standing behind you, still towering over your frame.

“Fred! George! How was your summer?” You bounded towards them and hugged George. When you pulled back to hug Fred he just stood there with his mouth slightly agape. George nudged him and he seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in and leaned in to hug you.

“You look… different,” was all he could manage to say. You chuckled and put your hands on your hips.

“Yes, I’m not so little anymore. You guys can stop calling me little one now,” you teased.

“Nah, you’re still tiny,” George brushed you off as you all started to head onto the train to find a compartment. After walking down the length of the train, you had finally found the compartment where Lee and Angelina were.

“Y/N! How was your summer! Oh my gosh, you look absolutely stunning,” Angelina beamed as she hugged you and pulled you down to sit next to her.

“Thanks Angie, I can say the same about you! And my summer was amazing,” you guys chatted back and forth, catching up on all the latest gossip and all the fun things you did over the summer. Fred and George beamed about the Quidditch World Cup and soon the five of you were full of sweets and ready to take a quick nap before you had to change into your school robes.

“Every year I tell myself not to eat so many chocolate frogs, and every year I eat more than I did the year before,” Lee groaned, leaning back and rubbing his stomach. You laughed and slid down in your own seat, leaning your head against the window and looking out across the green landscape. You were so happy to be back with your friends. The summertime was amazing, but there was nothing like Hogwarts. As you smiled to yourself, you looked up from the window to see Fred staring at you with a serious expression. You raised an eyebrow at him but he just shook his head and looked out the window. That was weird. You shook it off and leaned your head against the window again and nodded off.

Before long, the train had pulled into the station and crowds of students were piling out into to the night to go to welcoming feast. As you filed out of the train and towards the carriages, Fred and George lagged behind a bit and whispered to each other.

“Do you think they’re acting a bit strange?” You leaned in towards Angelina, sending another glance back towards the twins.

“Aren’t they always?” Angelina shrugged as she stepped into the carriage. She had a point.

After a few minutes, you found yourself at the Gryffindor table listening to Dumbledore announce the Tri-Wizard Tournament, everybody increasingly getting excited as his speech went on. The excitement reached its peak as piles of fresh food appeared in front of you and everybody dug into the feast.

“Oh how I missed this food,” you groaned, piling food into your mouth. George hummed in agreement as he piled more potatoes into his mouth. You could feel Fred staring at you again but you decided against meeting his gaze this time. Were they going to prank you or something? He was acting so weird.

Shortly after dinner, everybody headed up to their dorms. Despite wanting to hang out together in the common room, the long day of travel and the large feast caught up with the Gryffindors as the students filed up the winding stairs to their rooms. You had just gotten to your room when you realized you left your book in the common room. You turned around and quietly padded down the stairs to retrieve it. You slowed your steps as you saw the twins huddled together on a couch with their backs turned from you.

“Well yes, I’m not disagreeing. Any bloke can see she looks good, so what? I mean, what are you trying to say?” You managed to hear George say as you approached the coffee table.

“Ooh, who looks good? Does someone have a crush?”

The twins jumped as you grabbed your book next to them.

“Bloody hell, Y/N!” Fred exclaimed with wide eyes. George laughed.

“See, you say you’re no longer little, but you’re so tiny your footsteps don’t even make a sound,” George teased, leaning back into the couch and tossing his arm over it. You rolled your eyes.

“You guys just stomp around like ogres, I walk like a normal human. Anyways, I’m heading to bed. Try not to drool over Angelina, Georgie. It’s only the first day back,” you teased as you turned to head up towards the girls dormitory. You heard George let out a loud laugh before hearing a loud slap and more commotion. You just smiled to yourself, oh how you missed those two. You entered your room and placed your book on your bedside table before going to your wardrobe to change.

“I think George likes you,” you nodded to Angelina as she shot up in her bed.

“Really?” She said with a slight smile. You just chuckled. You were so happy to be back.

The weeks flew by and soon the other wizarding schools had arrived. The only thing that sucked about this whole tournament was that there was no quidditch. It was a surprisingly warm November day when you bounded into the common room looking for a certain pair of red heads. You spotted them huddled up in the corner of the room, probably working on one of their pranking products as you had learned of recently.

“You two,” you pointed at the twins as they whipped their heads up, “wanna play quidditch? Two on two, George and Angelina, Me and Fred.” A cheeky grin immediately grew on George’s face as he turned to look at Fred. A more sheepish smile appeared on Fred’s face as he stood up.

“Alright, Y/N, let’s kick some ass.”

The game had turned out to be exactly what the four of you needed in midst of all the school work that was being assigned. You and Fred flew seamlessly together, scoring over and over again on George and Angelina. They were putting up a good front, but your flying skills were outmatched. You had even attracted a small crowd of students by the time the game ended.

“Good game,” you said, landing onto the field and sticking out your hand for Angelina.

“Yes, valiant effort you two,” Fred smirked, shaking Angelina’s hand after you.

“Merlin, Y/N, I forgot how good you are,” Angelina mumbled as she took her defeat in stride.

“Yeah, shes bloody brilliant,” Fred mumbled with a reserved smile. You looked up at him, beaming at the compliment but he quickly looked away and cleared his throat.

“Gotta admit it, little one. You sure can fly,” George clapped you on the back before following Angelina off the field.

“We make a good team, Freddie,” you smiled, patting his arm before beginning to walk off the field as well. You couldn’t help but feel a little sad. Why was Fred acting so weird around you? Did he not like you anymore? He had been so distant this year, choosing to spend his time with George and whenever you came over to join them, he seemed to shut down and become reserved. And Fred had certainly never been reserved before. You shook your head and walked back to your dorm to shower. You decided you’d ask George about it that night.

After dinner, you sat in the common room working on some homework with Angelina. You tried to focus on your assignment, but your eyes kept drifting over to the pair huddled in the corner. How in the world were you going to ask George about Fred when they were always together? As if your prayers had been answered, Fred stood up and walked out of the common room. Your eyes followed him until he disappeared through the portrait hole. You took no time waiting and began to walk over to George.

“Ah, Y/N, what’s up?” George closed whatever he was working on and put his arm over the back of the couch. You took a seat next to him and turned to face him, nervously playing with your sleeves.

“Um, I actually had a question for you,” you stammered, looking up towards the portrait hole to make sure Fred wasn’t coming back.

“Spit it out, Y/N. What’s up? You’re making me worried,” George laughed, scooting closer to you. You cleared your throat.

“Does Fred have a problem with me? I dunno, it just seems like he doesn’t like me around anymore. He’s been acting so weird and I don’t want to bother him if he doesn’t want me hanging out with you guys anymore,” you trailed off, looking down at your legs. George put his arm around your shoulders.

“Y/N, I can promise you that is not the case,” he sighed, “we both love hanging out with you.”

“Really?” You let out a breath and chuckled.

“Yes, really. Merlin, he is such an idiot,” he grumbled to himself, shaking his head.

“What do you mean?” You raised an eyebrow at him when Fred walked back into the common room. You looked up and your eyes met his. As he got closer to you and George, his brows furrowed. George took his arm off your shoulders and you shifted your body away from his.

“What are you guys talking about?” Fred questioned, stopping in his tracks and crossing his arms over his chest, looking mildly annoyed. Why were his forearms so ripped? You shook your head and cleared your throat.

“I was just bugging him about the herbology assignment, which he hasn’t even started,” you glared at George. It was true that he hadn’t even started the lengthy assignment that was due by the end of the week. George chuckled.

“Did you set it up Freddie?” George questioned, probably about a prank, looking up at his twin. Fred still looked visibly annoyed.

“Yes. I did, but I should’ve made you do it.” Fred said dryly, his jaw clenching slightly. George rolled his eyes. You looked between the twins with a confused expression. You rarely saw them annoyed at each other.

“Alright, well I’m headed upstairs. Goodnight you guys,” you ducked out of the awkward atmosphere and towards Angelina to grab your books.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” George said as Fred sat down in your seat and began to whisper something to George. What was that all about?

A few days went by and Fred was still acting distant. You wondered if George had even said anything to Fred about it. If anything, Fred was avoiding you even more. George tried to give you passing smiles and waves, but anytime he passed you in the halls, Fred would completely ignore you. Even at dinner, he would rarely engage in conversation with you and you were starting to feel really hurt. After this particular night where he purposefully avoided your gaze the entire dinner, you were actually angry at him. He’d been acting so weird all year and then as soon as you talked to George about it, he started completely ignoring you. That night, you left your dorm and stomped up to the twins room. You knocked on the door and stood there with your arms crossed waiting until George opened it. He looked taken aback by your angry presence.

“I need to talk to Fred, alone.” You stated. George gulped and turned to Lee.

“Let’s go to the common room,” he grabbed Lee and pushed past you. Fred was now looking at you from his bed. You couldn’t read the expression on his face. It looked half scared and half the nonchalant expression he’d been giving you the past few days.

“What the fuck is your problem with me?” You stomped over the his bed where he sat. He raised an eyebrow at you and crossed his arms.

“I don’t have a problem with you, Y/N. What are you talking about?” He shrugged as he looked up at you nonchalantly, but you could see his jaw tensing.

“Are you serious right now, Fred? You know exactly what I’m been talking about. You’ve been avoiding me all week, ever since I talked to George about you. I don’t know if he even mentioned it to you, but I thought you didn’t like me anymore! He told me that wasn’t true, but now I’m not too sure anymore! You’ve been acting like a prat all week!” You were fuming at this point. You couldn’t believe he had the audacity to pretend like he hadn’t been ignoring you for days.

“That’s not fuckimg true! I told you I don’t have a problem with you, Y/N,” he jumped up off the bed and stalked towards you, “why can’t you just take my word for it?” His height became apparent as he loomed over you. You only stood up straighter and kept your arms crossed.

“Well then what’s your problem? Why don’t you like hanging out with me anymore? Why are you avoiding me?” You questioned, your anger slowly seeping away and being replaced with the hurt you’d been feeling. Fred sighed, his posture relaxing as he saw your eyes fill with sadness. He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I do like hanging out with you, Y/N. Merlin, I’ve been missing spending time with you, I just…” he trailed off, his eyes falling to the floor.

“You just what, Fred? Since when are you so shy?” You asked genuinely. That only made Fred groan and run his hands roughly through his hair again.

“Since I started liking you! Since you showed up on the platform looking like that and now I can’t even look at you without thinking you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” the words tumbled out of his mouth and left you standing there with your mouth open. Did he just say he likes you? Did he just call you beautiful? “I miss playing quidditch with you and coming up with pranks together but fuck, Y/N. I don’t want to be your friend anymore. I want to be with you.” You stood still for what felt like a long time. Were you dreaming right now? Your brain scrambled to make sense of what was happening. I mean, Fred was standing in front of you, confessing his feelings to you in a very real way. But you’d been friends for so long. What if this ruined everything? But he was standing right in front of you with his messy hair and his freckled face and his furrowed brows and he just looked so good and he was finally talking to you again and

“Oh, fuck it,” you breathed out, closing the space between the two of you. You were kissing him. And it felt so good. He groaned into your lips as his hands found their way to the small of your back, pulling you flush against his body as his lips worked against your own. Your hands tangled in his red locks as you pulled at his neck to deepen the kiss. His hands slid up your body until he held your cheeks. He kissed you softly one more time before pulling back. You face was blushed red as you stared up at him with wide eyes. He finally let out a breathy laugh and his lips curved up into a crooked smile.

“You’re so cute, fuck,” he laughed, still holding your face in his large hands, “I’m sorry I’ve been acting like a prat. I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship. But after kissing you, fuck, I should’ve ruined it a long time ago.”

“I just wish you would’ve told me earlier. Had I known you liked me, I could’ve had you kissing me all year,” you smirked as you walked him to the edge of his bed. He sat on the edge and pulled you down with him.

“Let’s make up for lost time then,” Fred whispered as he pulled you to his lips. You groaned as you straddled his lap and deepened the kiss. This man knew how to use his tongue.

“Fuck, Freddie,” you moaned into his mouth as his hands found their way to your ass. He chuckled as his grabbed your hips.

“I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I saw you bent over your luggage on the platform,” he breathed out with a smirk as he slapped your ass. You gasped and hit his chest.

“Freddie!” You scolded, but it didn’t last long as he pulled you back to his mouth, making you moan as his thumbs rubbed over your hip bones.

“Bloody hell,” you heard someone say from the door. You gasped and pulled away from Fred only to see George standing in the doorway with his jaw wide open. Fred’s smirked stayed plastered on his face and his grip held you tight on his lap.

“Sorry Georgie, think you can give us a few more minutes? We’re still talking.”

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

✨️Masterlist 1✨️

John Egan:

I'll come pick it up after / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / End /

Did you just kiss me?

Alright, bet!

Protect You

Back to black

Until you come back home / 2 /

Stop trying to feel everything

Inventor

Soft and prude

Small space

Run!

You want my jacket?

Kiss me before you leave

I hate / love you

Princess and the fool

I have a plan

You're like me, but better

New Girl

Never felt so...

Too Sweet

Chicken

Callum Turner:

Co- Stars / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 /

Qué serà serà

Finals season

Joe Rantz:

Training / 2 /

Theseus Scamander

Young, dumb in love

Curtis Biddick

Daylight

Your idiot?

You have to live

Gale Cleven

Told you she was real

Who did this to you?

Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal

Therapist

Ronald Speirs

Disguise

John Brady

Misunderstanding

Austin Butler

Fame / 2 / 3 / 4 /

Eugene Roe

Bastogne

[tsuutarr]

Concept: Yandere!Alice in Wonderland Characters (but it's only the White Rabbit for this piece) x Reader

“Wake up! Please, wake up!”

At the desperate call of the static-laden voice, your eyes groggily open. Your head hurts, thrumming with heavy noise. The artificial lights are too bright and yellow, staining your vision like aged-paper. It makes your headache worse.

“Oh no, are you ill?” a voice teeters. Face scrunched, you look up to see a screen hanging over you. A small image of a pixelated white rabbit flickers on and off. “Oh no, oh no… we’re so behind schedule…”

“What…” you being, head swirling. You don’t understand where you are or what’s happening. You don’t even really remember anything, for that matter. It makes you feel sick.

“Ah, I’m really sorry,” the pixelated rabbit apologizes, looking quite guilty. “Yes, yes, it’s quite a lot to take in…” 

Before you know it, the screen the pixelated rabbit is on moves closer to you. The blue light is bright, making you squint.

“Hello, [Alice],” it greets you softly. “My name is WH173-R48817, though most call me White Rabbit or White.”

“My name isn’t [Alice].” You’re not sure where that statement came from, but it feels wrong to be referred to as [Alice].

“Ah… Ah, yes, certainly,” White’s voice murmurs.“Apologies. What would you like to be called?”

You tell White a name – you’re not entirely sure where that name came from, but it feels right.

“Understood. I will refer to you as such.” With a comforting smile, White continues. “Now, as I was saying… I am the White Rabbit System, an AI system that helps manage things in this lab.”

“A lab?”

“Yes,” White responds. “We are currently in a laboratory.” 

Your eyes flicker around the room and it’s quite obvious now that you are, in fact, in a lab-like place. You’re comfortably resting on a surgery bed as jars of… body parts line the shelves around you.

“You are a part of the Wonderland Project as the most successful participant. Now that you’ve regained consciousness, we must exit the starting point.”

You stare at White blankly, its words doing very little to reveal anything substantial to you. However, White is far too frazzled to properly listen to you, going on its own little tangent. You didn’t think an AI could be so… anxious. 

“We’re already quite late!” it frets while you eye it. The screen White is on is embedded into some device on the wall. You doubt the device will be able to move outside of the room.

“How are you going to exit this place?” you ask. 

“Ah, look at me, being a klutz,” it sighs, somehow looking bashful despite being an AI. “A moment, please.” And just like that, the screen it was displayed on flickers off, the blue light fading away. Momentarily, you’re stunned, until you hear the soft footfalls approaching you. You turn your head to see a tall man with bunny ears.

“Greetings,” he says. His voice sounds like White’s, though a little deeper and more human. “I wondered which form would be the most efficient, and decided that this one would work best.”

“What.”

He continues walking closer to you as he talks. “I have a few bodies that I can connect my programming to. This is one of them.” When he finally reaches you, you can see how tall he is. He’s rather lanky and thin, but his height is enough to be intimidating. “Pardon me. I’m not that fond of touching others myself, but I have no choice,” he mutters, before reaching for you and cradling you in his arms faster than you can process what’s going on. “Hold on to me. We are quite behind schedule.”

“Behind schedule? For what?”

“The continuation of the Wonderland Project, of course.”

“And why exactly do I have to be a part of this project?”

White peers down at you curiously. “Well, isn’t it obvious?” he asks. “Because you’re the most important key, of course. We need you.”

With that, he leaves the room with you in his arms.