#why I love Dhawan Master

[youremyonlyhope]

Me years ago: Yeah I never really understood why people are attracted to the Master. I get that Simm and Gomez are both attractive as the Master, but I've never really been attracted to the Master.

Dhawan!Master:

Me: ...... Oh ok I get it now.

[thetorturedlovergirl]

I can say I started being Rasputin! Master’s n1 fan as a joke but now I’m honestly his n1 fan and protector.

It’s ruining my life /j.

[lesbiansanemi]

I’m still so mad and confused about the master during thirteen’s seasons. Like. Okay. I figured the master would become a major villain again because they’re the master and they’re iconic and etc etc but Missy literally developed SO fucking much and it was completely ignored and not even MENTIONED during thirteen’s run. Like why the fresh fucking hell did the master go from feeling guilt about what they’ve done and finally admitting “maybe it’s time to stand with the doctor” to That with no acknowledgement and no explanations it makes no goddamn sense to me like whether you liked missy’s redemption arc or not the lack of continuity and erasure of character depth is INFURIATING

[vammieposts]

Which Time Lord will become Rasputin next? Who IS the real Rasputin? Will we ever have an answer?

[youabsolutewalnut]

What I love about The Master is that I literally don't give a shit about how they return or in what regeneration. Simm shows up and kills Missy after getting sent back into the time lock? Sure. Dhawan gets blown tf up by the death partical and walks it off? Makes sense. They played a game with the Toymaker and is now a tooth? Why not. My suspension of disbelief for The Master is unfathomable. This guy(gn) can do literally anything and I'm like "oh ok. That makes sense".

[ephemeralscreamer]

Listening to Sacha Dhawan's Master audio and omg, he's the most pathetic one. Why do I love the pathetic ones so much? He's completely different from the competent Jacobi Master 😭. Even Simms Master has an unhinged competency that this one lacks. Amazing! I love him so much and hope there are many more audios to come.

[noforkingclue]

Hey could I please request a Dhawan!Master x reader with the dialogue "Oh don't worry. A little bit of Hypnosis never hurt anybody."

Have a great day

Of course anon! I did go slightly darker with this fic.

Hope you like it :)

Title: Giving In

Warnings: kidnapping, wanted hypnotism

You swallowed thickly as you looked up at the Master. He gave you a manic grin as he knelt down to your level. You were determined not to show any fear in front of him. That was what he wanted after all- for you to cower by his feet.

But you knew you shouldn’t look into his eyes.

Those beautiful, beautiful eyes that were wasted on a man like him.

Someone as evil as him shouldn’t have eyes like that.

“Love.”

Or a voice like that. That soothing voice that he didn’t deserve.

“Look at me, love.”

“No.”

“Why not? It’s not polite to not look at someone when they’re speaking to you.”

“Since when have you been polite to me?”

“Haven’t I? You’re still alive aren’t you?”

You glared at his feet, not daring to look up any further. You heard him sigh and walk around his TARDIS. You could practically see the pose and expression on his face, despite not looking up.  Hands behind his back, mock disappointment

“Do you know why I took you?” he asked

“To piss off the Doctor.”

“Ah well, an added bonus.”

“So that wasn’t the reason? Seemed to be in the past.”

Ok, so this certainly wasn’t the first time he’d kidnapped you. Out of the Doctor’s companions, you were the person who’d spent the most time with the bastard. So he had an element of charm about him, well, at least to you. He definitely threatened you the least.

And sometimes, on the very odd occasion, you could’ve sworn he was actually flirting with you. If you could call threatening to kill you while telling you how beautiful you looked covered in your own blood, flirting.

Timelords.

“Why do you want me to look at you?” you asked

“I think you know that. For a human, you’re not a stupid as you look.”

“Thanks.”

You could see him walk over and he grabbed your chin. Quickly, you shut your eyes as he tilted your chin back. He leant down, brushing his cheek against yours. His beard scratched your cheek and you felt his breath fan across your cheek.

“It’ll be painless,” he said softly, his voice like honey, “you’ll feel so good.”

“No it won’t.”

"Oh don't worry. A little bit of Hypnosis never hurt anybody."

“Maybe not physically but mentally it will.”

“Only if you resist and you’re not going to resist me are you?”

“Yes I am.”

“Why? Oh wait, let me guess, because I’m evil. The Doctor has told you all about me so of course you now know every little detail about me.”

“She’s told us enough.”

The Master cupped your face, brushing his thumbs against your cheek bones. You kept your eyes firmly shut and he sighed, pressing his forehead against yours. You shuddered as you felt his breath fan across your face and you could practically hear the smile in his voice as he said,

“I could make you open those beautiful eyes of yours. I could make you do so many things and then,”

He broke off with a dark chuckle,

“And then I’ll make you forget so we can do this over and over again. So unless you want things to hurt, to really hurt, I’d suggest you open your eyes.”

And so you did.

[rowanthestrange]

#the beard thing is because the doctor literally grew a beard in the book... and he got married to a woman

thank you for pre-empting the question i was inevitably about to ask

MISSY: Why does the Doctor always survive? CLARA: Because he's clever. MISSY: Yes, but there's lots of clever dead people. I love killing clever clogs, they make the best faces. CLARA: Because he always assumes he's going to win. He always knows there's a way to survive. He just has to go and find it. MISSY: Yes, except this time, he made a will and threw himself a goodbye party. Now, if the Doctor assumes he's going to die, what happens then?

You know how we said the Doctor is a law of physics? If the Doctor is one of these creatures…then that’s literal. Count the salt. Transgenderism even. Your understanding of yourself governs the rules you live by.

Not to get too Dhawan!Master -> Missy, but…how much does she know? Because sure this could be a philosophical concept. Or she could actually mean it literally.

And second question. If the Doctor and Master have been so Frankensteined and blended, are they so mixed that now the Master can prove to be deathless because that is their own self-image? Or do they keep coming back solely because the Doctor believes they will always come back?

And if it is the second one…is the Master evil of volition, or because that’s the Doctor’s narrative?

[buggyboba]

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𝔸𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖

↳ ▣ | Hiiii, thank you for being so patient with me, I know it’s long overdue, (October is when it was sent in, I am so so so sorry it took forever) but it’s here! I hope you enjoy it! Thasmin is implied, and this is my like third time writing Thirteen, the first two were in kinktober, but really do we count kinktober? This is a completely safe for work fic, I am proud of myself. I really don’t have much to say here, please enjoy!

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪

↳ ▣ | Anon asked | Could I please request a Dhawan!Master x reader where when the reader first met the master (when he was pretending to be O) the reader had mentioned their love for phantom of the opera and little does the reader know that the master has put a trigger/s in the reader's mind using music/tune from phantom. Sometime later The reader, the doctor, and yaz travelled back to France in the 1870's and are drawn into a mystery involving a 'Phantom' in an old manor house/ theatre (or if you want it can be another building) anyway the reader gets separated from their friends and they hear the music/tune activating a trigger, they end up in a dressing room with a large mirror,candles and the door now locked. The reader is hypnotized (I'm sorry I just love the mirror trick), and by the time the doctor realizes what has happened, it's too late to save them. (Maybe the doctor remembers how the reader said that the master told the reader, "My power over you grows stronger yet...")

𝕋𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘

↳ ▣ | Hypnosis, The Master uses the TCE but it's not shown. Other than that, none I can think of.

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘

↳ ▣ | Dhawan!master x Fem!Reader

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥

↳ ▣ | 3800

𝔸𝕠𝟛 𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜

↳ ▣ | x

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̶̶̶̶  «̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ «̶ ̶̶̶ Some Time Ago 　 ̶ ̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ »̶ ̶̶̶  

The Australian outback was interesting enough—no, it wasn’t. You couldn’t lie to yourself. You had been staying at one of the doctor’s friends ’ house. O, it was such an odd name. Well, it wasn’t his real name. You knew it was the MI6 name, and you respected his privacy. Ryan and Yaz were out doing work to learn more about the light people. The Doctor was in the TARDIS doing something you weren’t sure about, leaving you, Graham, and O in the living room. 

You lie on the couch, your arm over your eyes, and your hand drumming on your stomach. You lightly hummed; it wasn’t a specific tune at first, until ‘Music of the Night’ popped into your head from Phantom of the Opera. The drumming on your stomach took on the beat of the song, and when Graham went out to the porch for some air, O cast a look at you; he moved to get up, moving to sit on the arm of the couch to not disturb you. “Phantom of the Opera.” He said, which startled you out of your head. “It’s no wonder why it got so popular. It's a tragic love story with catchy melodies. It's an odd thing they did a sequel to, Love Never Dies,” he shrugged. 

You looked at him and smiled a bit. “Love a bit of Broadway. Phantom is my favorite.” You explained, “Lover Never Dies has some good music and some odd choices, but it does continue the plot well enough. I don’t like some character choices, but the music is still good.” You said. “Phantom will always hold a special place in my heart. Not just the musical, I enjoyed the book too.” You said, nodding. 

“Ever watch the old black-and-white movies?” he asked, his eyes sliding over you. It felt innocent enough, and you assumed it was just the MI6 training to be observant. 

“Oh yeah, and some from the 80s, one where Robert Englund was the Phantom; it was a horror movie, imagine my surprise. Gory.” You laughed a bit. “But yeah, I enjoy the story and the music.” You nodded a bit. 

O nodded, inspecting you again. His gaze was warm, but there was something underneath you couldn’t place. “Do you sing?” He asked, and you sort of shrugged.

“Sometimes, not professional or anything, just for fun. Haven’t lately thought life has been…” You paused, trying to think of the way you wanted to describe your time with The Doctor and The Fam. 

“Intense?” He suggested, seemingly pulling the word from your mind, and you nodded. 

“It’s not bad, it’s exciting and scary, but the sights are fantastic.” You said, sitting up and moving over so he could sit if he wanted. He slid off the arm of the couch, his leg bumping yours, and you both shared this shy sort of smile. 

“I imagine, seeing the stars, experiencing fantastical things, it’s worth the danger.” He smiled, and you nodded again, thinking. You loved the adventures, but sometimes you wondered.

“It is, but sometimes I wonder, all of this, dangerous situations, dangerous aliens, it's…” You trailed off once again, trying to decide how you wanted to word things, and once again, he seemed to pull what you were thinking, that MI6 training really doing over time.

“You are wondering if you will survive it.” He nodded. “I think you will, though, with her track record.” He paused, “Oh, forget I said that.” He gave a pleading smile, but you frowned.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, inspecting him, your face in a light grimace.

“Oh, nothing, nothing really. I am sure you will be fine.” He put his hands up in a placating manner. “But really, forget it.” He insisted you wanted to press more, but there was this odd feeling in your mind, and you shrugged. “Instead—” he began, “Why don’t you sing for me? I want to hear it. Go on.” He grinned at you.

“Sing, really? Right now?” You shook your head a bit, shifting. It wasn’t like you were nervous, but you didn’t sing in front of people, not really. 

“Yeah, go on, sing for me, angel of music.” He grinned that charming grin, pleased with his joke. You laughed and shook your head, moving to sit up more.

“Fine, okay, okay.” You relented, “Might as well stick with the theme, right?” You teased a bit. You cleared your throat and hummed a note to find the right one. Once you had it, you began.

“Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye. Remember me once in a while. Please promise me you'll try. When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free. If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me. We never said our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea. But if you can still remember, stop and think of me. Think of all the things we've shared and seen. Don't think about the way things might have been.” You sang and then gave a little flourish bow, laughing. 

O listened to you and gave a nod after your few bars of the song. “Wow, Little Lotte indeed,” he said, watching you intently; you blushed a bit under his gaze. “It was good; you shouldn’t blush. You sound fine.” He assured you, but you sort of shrugged. “I think if I had to choose a song, it would be Phantom of the Opera; can’t pass up the most iconic song.” He mused and hummed a bit. “The line ‘My power over you grows stronger yet’ is powerful, don’t you think?” He said and grinned at you; you felt hazy for a moment but then blinked and nodded.

“Yeah, I mean, I bet you have the voice for it.” You nodded, he gave a short laugh, and shrugged. 

“Yes, well, I doubt that very much, but,” he shook his head, “though perhaps there is something much like the phantom I can do.” His eyes got darker, and his voice hypnotic. 

̶̶̶̶  «̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ «̶ ̶̶̶  NOW　 ̶ ̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ »̶ ̶̶̶   

Paris, 1870 

The veering sound of the TARDIS filled the alley, and the leaves that littered the cobblestone pushed away in a billow as the blue box materialized. The familiar blonde popped her head out, then her arm, her sonic swept across the way for a moment, and it told her they were in the right place. She stepped out and brushed her iconic jacket off, pocketing the sonic. She looked around. Yaz stepped out dressed in a dress more appropriate for the period, and you stepped out after her, also dressed appropriately. 

“Alright, Fam! We are in the right place. I am getting massive energy readings, so keep your eyes open, stay close; we don’t know exactly what we are dealing with, so no running off.” She said, looking between you and Yaz. You gave her a look, and she shifted. “What?” 

“Oh, like we are the ones that run off.” Yaz hid a laugh behind her hand, feigning a yawn when the Doctor looked at her. 

“Okay, well, keep up then.” She shook her head. You shook your head and looked around. For a brief moment, you thought you heard a faint melody, but neither Yaz nor The Doctor said anything about it. You brushed it off as a lack of sleep; you hadn’t been sleeping well lately—nightmares. You all made your way to the main street, and as Yaz and The Doctor spoke, a paper caught your attention. It spoke about an opera house closing for the season due to the mysterious disappearance of seven people. You frowned as you looked over the words.

“Doctor, I think I found what we are looking for.” You pointed at the paper, she walked closer to read it quickly, and put her hand on your shoulder.

“Brilliant, good work, let’s find this opera house.” She said, and after a quick conversation with the stall owner, you were pointed in the right direction. It was a couple of streets over. The stall owner suggested leaving it alone, as no one had been there since the disappearances, and those who went in didn’t come back out. She thanked him but started walking in that direction anyway.

You trailed behind Yas and The Doctor, watching the people around you, and you felt watched back. It was an odd feeling, familiar but with an undertone of danger, like you were being hunted. As you made it to the opera house, you heard the melody again. Your body tensed and your heart raced. Your fight or flight kicked in, and you almost turned around to run back to the TARDIS, but a sudden hazy feeling washed over you and you calmed, catching up to Yaz and The Doctor. 

“You okay?” The Doctor asked, looking at you; you nodded and smiled.

“A bit Phantom of the Opera, isn’t it?” You said, motioning to the opera house. “Disappearances in an opera house, in Paris, in 1870.” You laughed a bit. “Like this mystery was tailor-made just for me.” You joked, but she eyed you and then the building.

“Yeah, odd.” She murmured. “Hey,” she said louder, looking at you again. “I want you to stay close, okay, where I can see you.” She said, touching your arm lightly, you felt an unfamiliar pull, and something in your mind fought it, pulling your arm back a little, and you nodded slightly. 

“Yeah, okay.” You said shifting, you inspected her. “Everything okay?” you asked softly. She nodded and smiled that smile she gave when she was pretending everything was perfect.

“Yeah, I am sure it is.” She looked away from you and back at the opera house again; unfortunately, the front was chained closed.

“Well, we are not going that way,” Yaz said, looking around to see if there was another way. “Maybe the back?” she suggested, and The Doctor nodded, starting around back. As you made your way around the side, your eyes caught sight of a window cracked open invitingly. Your eyes lingered on it, and there was a tug in your mind. Before you could react, your body was moving towards it. As your hands reached the ledge, a hand grabbed your shoulder. You gasped, startled, and the tug on your mind faded.

“Found a way in?” The Doctor’s voice rang in your ear. You nodded softly. 

“Yeah, appears so,” you muttered sort of in thought. The Doctor looked concerned. She looked you over, and you had a sort of distant look. She knew that look. Why did she know that look?

“Hey, why don’t you go back to the TARDIS? You don’t look so well, and I think you should rest.” She tested carefully, but you shook your head.

“What, and miss this? I am alright.” You said flatly, waving her off.

“No, I think you aren’t.” She said sternly. “You have been acting off since we got here.” 

You shook your head no again, “I am fine.” You shrugged her hand off your shoulder and reached for the window ledge again, but she grabbed your arm and turned you to face her properly.

“I think you may have been compromised.” She said suddenly. “You have been acting, well, not like yourself, distracted, dazed.” She continued, “Let’s go back to the Tardis and do a health scan, yeah?” She urged, and you looked at her with a look that wasn’t your own, one she hadn’t seen on your face before—anger? Hate? It wasn’t your look. “Hey…” She raised her hand softly, “Listen, okay, can I just… Can I just look at your mind really fast? It will only take a moment.” She asked, trying to make light of the worry that was growing in her. You pulled away and pushed her hand off of you, your mind hazy and angry.

“That is a gross breach of privacy, Doctor.” You spoke sharply, “I am fine, tired but fine. We don’t have time for this. People are missing, and you are wasting time trying to play psychoanalyst with me. My thoughts and my mind are private, no.” You said in a tone that breathed finality. Before she could try anything else, you moved through the window, landing with a soft thud on your feet in a room on the other side; the only light was from the window. Everything had been covered with sheets; dust hadn’t even settled yet. The Doctor and Yaz made their way through the window, looking around the room as well.

“Hey!” The Doctor said, trying to catch your arm, but you moved away.

“We can talk about it later.” You said in a mutter as you moved to leave the room, Yaz caught The Doctor’s arm and shook her head.

You walked out into the foyer. It was beautiful; everything was still there like people would be back any moment. You began walking towards the auditorium, keeping the large double doors open for light from the front of the house. It was breathtaking: the red velvet chairs, the gold fixtures in the dim sunlight, and the boxes that had a view of the stage. Movement caught your eye, and a shadow moved across one of the boxes. It startled you, but you found your voice; there were missing people to find after all. “Hello?” You called. There was no answer. “I, uh, I am a detective. I am looking for the missing—” You started with a lie, but only sort of; you were looking for the missing people after all. 

“Who are you talking to?” The Doctor’s voice startled you again.

“There was someone up there.” You pointed towards the box where you had seen the shadow. She looked at the box and then pointed her Sonic at it.

“There is no one there.” She said, carefully looking at you. 

“There was! I saw someone move up there.” You said firmly, she nodded, and kept an eye on you as you moved towards the stage, climbing up onto it from the side. You looked around and moved to pull your phone from the pouch in your dress. You turned on the flashlight to see better, since the light didn’t reach back to the stage. Maybe it was a trick of the light before; you didn’t know why you were so mad at The Doctor. She was just concerned about you. You made a mental note to apologize when you got back to the TARDIS. 

“Wait! Don’t go ahead!” She called out, but you moved to check the wings, which led you into a hallway that was littered with props from the performance the opera house was supposed to be putting on. You yelled when your light washed over a dummy that was wrapped in a sheet. You heard the rapid footfall of Yaz and The Doctor but it stopped as it got to you. You turned to look behind you, and no one was there.

“D-Doctor?” You called, there was no answer, “Yaz?” You called, and once again, only silence answered you. Your heart was in your throat; you moved to go back to where you had come from, only to find another hallway where the stage should be. This wasn’t right; something was very wrong. “Doctor?” You called out. “DOCTOR!” You yelled, but the only sound was from your heart pounding in your ears. You knew you should stay calm; you had to be. Being scared was okay, but you needed to remain calm for The Doctor. Panicking would lead to stupid decisions, and stupid decisions could and would get you killed. You took a breath and counted a few times to calm yourself down and ground yourself. You turned back around and continued down the hallway. Maybe if you were lucky, you would find the missing people. Hopefully they were alive and well, and this was just some odd pocket dimension situation, and The Doctor would figure it out and save you, or you would figure it out and save yourself. 

The Doctor and Yaz ran when they heard you yell, but when they reached the hallway, it was empty. “Doctor? Where did she go?” Yaz asked, starting to move to open a door in the hallway. the doctor scanned the area with the sonic again and frowned. Something was messing with the signals. 

“I don’t know.” She said weakly. “Tread carefully, we need to stay together… I said not to run off, and they always run off—” She mumbled.

“Now is not the time, Doctor.” Yaz said as she stepped into the room. The Doctor followed; it was a prop closet, but The Doctor froze when she saw it. Sitting on a stool was a box with a purple ribbon tied around it and a note attached. ‘To The Doctor’ in neat cursive. 

“What do you think it is?” Yaz asked, going towards the box carefully, but The Doctor pulled her back. 

“Yaz! Don’t touch it.” She said quickly, moving to inspect it herself. She lightly touched it, and when nothing happened, she pulled the ribbon and opened the top of the box. She gasped and stepped back quickly, panic written on her face. 

“Doctor, what is it?’ Yaz moved to look in the box; inside were seven toy soldier-sized dolls. “Doctor?” She asked and went to grab one. 

“Don’t!” The Doctor grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Those are the missing people.” She said her tone was tight, laced with worry and anger. “We have to find her now; she is in danger.” 

“The toys, they are…” Yaz asked, looking at her, trying to understand.

“The Master, He has this device, a Tissue Compress Eliminator. It, uh, it’s matter condensation, shrinks them down to the size of a doll, killing them in the process.” She tried to explain quickly. “Those were the missing people. This was—is a trap for me and her. Do you remember the last time we met The Master, the spy stuff? He said something to her. Do you remember what it was?” She breathed out, rushing out of the room, yelling your name. 

“No, I didn’t hear it. I—” Yaz shook her head. 

As you walked down the hall, you heard it again; that melody filled your senses. It pulled at you; it was terrifying, but it was warm and inviting. It was like it was guiding you. You walked carefully, trying not to make a sound, as you inched closer to where the music was coming from. It washed over you; you felt yourself surrendering. It was like a promise, a promise of safety, even if in the back of your mind fear was prickling, telling you that this was wrong, that this was danger. Your body moved without your permission, but your mind was so hazy. You stood in front of a door, your hand outstretched. For a brief moment, you heard The Doctor, yelling your name, begging you to respond. Your mouth wouldn't open to respond. Your hand pushed the door open, and it was a dressing room. Your other hand dropped your phone, slipping out and clattering to the floor. You stepped in; there was a large mirror, and candles lit the room; there were flowers; it was so pretty. This must have been the diva's dressing room. 

“Did you like my little gift to you?” His voice was in your head; you were being called, pulled towards the mirror. “Just like your little musical,” his voice wasn't cruel, but it certainly wasn't friendly. “I will whisk you away. The Doctor will cry and be upset, but what she doesn't know is my power over you grows stronger yet.” Even though you couldn't see him, you knew he was grinning. “Don't try to fight it, little dove.” He gave a giggle. “Keep walking, come on, nearly there.” You were in front of the mirror now, and as if he were behind you, he appeared in the mirror before he reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you through. 

“I love a good entrance.” He grinned and pulled you with him further in. It was a console room, his TARDIS. “I do hope you appreciated the trouble I went through, all of this for you, charming, right? You should feel special that I did this for you. I usually pull out all the stops for her.” He said, almost hissing out ‘her'. “Oh, but you…oh, pet, you are fascinating, and I am going to enjoy pulling back those layers to find out why you are fascinating. Maybe if I like what I find, I'll keep you.” He mused, flipping a few levers, and you tried to clear your mind. “No, no, no, not until we are away from here, where she won't be able to find us. Sit.” He motioned, and you fought against your mind. “Oh, my dear.” He frowned and walked over to you, grabbing your chin; his look got more sinister. “I am The Master, and you will obey me.” He said his influence pushed any resistance you had down as you obeyed and sat down. He returned to the console. “Oh, this trick will be so fun, just you watch.” He said and flipped a few switches.

The Doctor and Yaz frantically searched rooms, and all at once there was a shift. The Doctor felt it first and grabbed Yaz, pulling her towards her, shielding her with her body, holding her close, one hand on the back of her head tucking her under her chin, and the other on her back holding her against her, as the opera house faded to nothing, leaving them standing in an open space with the box a few feet away and your phone near it.

The Doctor moved to grab your phone, opening it, and the last message was from an unknown number. When she opened it, a melody played, and she made a face. 

“Oh, she got that right before we landed when we were changing in the wardrobe,” Yaz said, looking over her shoulder. 

“That's how he got her.” The Doctor clutched your phone. “We have to find her.” She breathed out, looking at Yaz.

“We will; he will slip up, or she will find a way.” Yaz nodded, holding her arm, squeezing it softly, trying to comfort The Doctor. She had faith in the doctor that she would find you before something irreparable happened. The Doctor knew The Master wouldn’t let you go so easily, and that’s what worried her. What would he do to you while dragging them on this goose chase to find you, if he even did that? Something told her he wasn’t going to be found until he wanted to be, and by then it would be too late for you, in one way or another. 

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[oakdwn]

spymaster, becoming the doctor, and gardening – a little character study

anyone else obsessed with the master and margarita short story?? no?? just me?? oh well you’re getting a character analysis anyway, long rant about spymasters obsession with the doctor via mushrooms under the cut :3

tw for dissociation and substance induced hallucinations (weird ahh mushrooms as torture)

for those of you who haven’t read the master and margarita (i def recommend its super fun) it’s about what dhawan!master was doing during his 77 years on earth in that time skip during spyfall 2. he’s a mushroom farmer in russia, crazy hijinks and thoschei references ensue. maybe i’m going too deep into it but i really love the idea of him as a gardener and what that implies for everything we see in ttc/potd

i’d like to start with the fact that out of all the masters, dhawans is the one least confident in his identity. classic who masters and saxon held their title with pride with their “he’s the master and you will obey him” shtick. missy, even when she was debating her morality, never saw herself as anything other than missy. her title wasn’t being questioned, it was what she chose to do with it. meanwhile, spymaster just... loses himself after looking into the panopticon. he’s faced with the reality that the doctor is more important than he could ever be, and given that he sees his worth as interwoven with hers (the history between us, constantly refers back to their past/when they were equal), this makes him lose all sense of self. it used to be theta and koschei. the doctor and the master. now it’s just the timeless child and….. that’s it. there’s no significant place for him in her life. what’s he supposed to do now, when he’s based his whole history around her?

easy! fracture himself into different personalities, hide behind disguises (i mean, THREE disguises in one episode? calm down dude) in an attempt to hide his unimportance. while the timeless child is the story of child abuse and colonialism, a hurt the doctor will have to live with even if she can’t remember it, the master sees it as a triumph. he is lesser. she is the timeless child and she has existed forever and he is some dumb timelord who fell in love and meant nothing to her in the long-run. he feels like he’s not deserving of being in his own skin anymore so he hides behind whatever name and personality he can find.

but the thing about all his disguises is that they are so human. agent o, a shy little analyst at MI6 with the wide eyed stare and wits to be the doctor’s companion. rasputin, famous bachelor and a piece of history the doctor would notice. he says he despises humans but he dresses up as them because well, do you know who does love them? the doctor :(

which is why his name and intentions in the master and margarita are soooo so interesting to me. first off, his human alias is mikhail (“son of god”, writer of the og master and margarita) afanasyevich (“immortal”, also the og writer of master and margarita) gospodinov (roughly translated to “lord” and “master”). he steals a name, just like rasputin in potd, with a lot of weight on who he is right now. an emphasis on “immortal” “time lord” when hes dealing with the pressure of ttc. hes basically copying the doctor and making a title for himself like the ‘timeless child’ to feel equal again. it’s not the only time he copies the doctor either, hes basically working for “evil russian unit” in this short story. 

(remind you of anything?? yes im talking about the doctor-master. super cool foreshadowing on how hes been trying to become/be one with the doctor before potd)

and it’s literally in the text. the whole reason he spends months cultivating mushrooms for russia is to change history a bit so that jo grant’s marriage will be ruined. such a Doctor thing to do, kind of parallels clara and danny. to love a human is to be overly dramatic over them. the master, again, uses humans for his own benefit but has never been overly fond of them, with the exception of the doctors little companions. hes copying her again.

but the thing is, he keeps cultivating them. he gains a love for caring for them. mushrooms are just mushrooms until they arent. in a time where he thinks he’s the doctors opposite, he begins farming mushrooms bc of jo grant, a detail the doctor would remember just bc he misses her. he couldve spent his time escaping and getting back to his regular timeline to defeat the doctor, but he stayed. because of a human attachment. very doctor-y.

and if that bit of nostalgia wasn’t enough, he even hallucinates the third doctor in this. Which. okay. give me a non-thoschei explanation for this.

i just really like what that short story has to offer as far as the masters obsession with other people and his disguises go. and what it means for him to spend months of his live caring for something, like the doctor would, when all hes done before is kill. what does it mean for the champion of death to cultivate life :(

nyways, if you made it this far, i really hope you enjoyed !! i just love talking about spymaster can you tell lmfaooo and if you liked any of this id recommend reading the gardener by ritheh on ao3 which expands on his whole “killer heals for once” thing its soooo good <33 ok bye see u guys next time

[13atoms]

Interrogation (Dhawan!Master x Reader)

Warnings: dubcon/noncon from memory, I think? One of those 'it was all fine all along' types. That might have been why it vanished in the first place? Good old fashioned smut, anyway. Read the request first if in doubt! [1.8k][REPOST, MAYBE?]

Request: "Could you please do a fic where the reader has been captured by some weird planet where interrogation is done by overstimulation? [...] She's scared at first but the master comes to rescue her and then he realizes what's happening and decides he likes his pet like that [...]

You laughed breathlessly as your faceless captors questioned, once again:

“Where is your accomplice?”

The cracking speakers undersold the technology around you – it was state of the art. A camera watched you from each corner of the room, your hips encased in machinery whilst your chest and arms were strapped down with soft-but-unbreakable fabric. 

With a smug grin and a shake of your head, you refused to answer.

By now the sensation was familiar. Still, you fought a wince at the restarting of the slick machinery which sucked on your clit, intensifying as you bucked or tried to recoil even a millimetre from its accurate positioning on your skin. The machinery clamping your hips also left you completely full, a probe in your cunt, stretching you. Your captors had forced you further and further beyond what you thought you could take as the machine thrusted ruthlessly into you, a perfectly timed, inorganic pattern your body which wasn’t built to take.

It hurt to clench, to give in to the pleasure, you were so full. But it was worse to endure it, your entire body, trembling, forcing sweat from your pores, as your it begged for freedom and for satisfaction.

You refused to beg, you knew you could withstand more. Most importantly, you knew The Master was on his way. As the pain in your clit overwhelmed the pleasure, and you lost the ability to think straight, you bit back a curse for him to hurry up.

He’d love this, you thought. The industrial table, which they had strapped you to in nothing but a paper-thin gown. You imagined his horror at the specially-designed machine, which held your hips still, encasing you with pleasure and lubrication. Worst of all, hiding you from him. He was a jealous man, even of the sex toys you liked. He’d be furious something else was giving you pleasure, probably driven to madness to prove himself both superior and necessary. 

The cameras might have concerned you, were it not for your certainty The Master would burn this facility to the ground in a short measure of time. Perhaps he would steal a copy of the recording first – to rewatch in the lonely hours while you slept, finding himself aroused in equal measure by how you were mercilessly fucked and by how stubbornly you protected him, even in sexual agony.

Those captors who watched behind screens, who had strapped you into the machine and pushed its appendage inside of you whilst they were concealed by masks… they had no idea of the danger closing in on them.

Usually the pleasure would build up in quick rounds, quickly becoming pain. Their questioning was as frequent as the pulsing of the sucker on your clit, perhaps thinking they could trick you by flooding your system with hormones and you mind with desperation. It didn’t work. You refused to betray him, risk his safety as he broke in here to safe you. You dreaded the sensitivity accompanying you at the higher levels of their cycle, trying to let your mind drift. But it didn’t work.

This time was different. The pleasure-pain was overwhelming, but monotonous. It started to grow too much, and you frowned at the silence. There was no taunting, no threats, ringing distorted through the surgical-white room.

In fact, there were no voices of any kind. No crackle of the microphone your captors used. You could hear nothing but your own breaths, the rustle of the gown where sweat stuck it to your back, the humming of the machine, and you own slickness. 

Even the change of pitch as your clit was tortured was audible now, the gentle sound of the suction against you, and you realised you were whining softly in the back of your throat. You scrunched your eyes closed, refusing to grow louder and let the captors win. The machine seemed completely in-tune with your body, and you felt sure they knew exactly how oversensitive you were, but it was still possible they had no idea how close you were to breaking.

Was he not coming?

You refused to entertain the thought.

In, out, you ached as you felt even more pressure inside of you, biting your lip as you wondered how much more they could stretch you at this point. You would be limping as The Master rescued you, and suddenly you felt a pang of embarrassment for not being stronger. For not hiding your pleasure from the captors, even as they put you through the fucked up punishments of this civilisation. 

Your clit throbbed from being overworked, none of the hours The Master’s tongue or fingers spent on it could prepare you for how long you had been here, with unrelenting and unfailing rhythm. You couldn’t escape the pleasure, couldn’t adapt to it. Each time you felt prepared for the sensation, like you could predict it, the pattern changed and you were whining, being dragged close to tears yet again.

With a gasp, you heard a crackle, the speakers being switched back on.

Perhaps they would make it stop. They usually did, with the promise you would be free from the torture for as long as you spoke, only for every refusal to speak causing your clit ache more when the punishment resumed. 

How much more? You wondered. How oversensitive could a person yet?

You felt as though that upper limit had been reached. That they couldn’t push you any further. You wanted to cry out for The Master, wishing you could figure out where the door was, wanting to see where he could break in and free you.

You had come to expect the robotic, clinical speech which echoed through the room. A new voice surprised you.

“Hi, darling.”

“Master?”

The name came out moaned, as you wondered if you were hallucinating, finally driven mad.

“Yes, love.”

His tone was sultry, and you tried to imagine him, hands planted on the desk as he leant over the microphone. Watching the screens. Certainly, he was watching the screens.

“Make it st–”

“You know, love, their laws here ban physical injury to prisoners. But not interrogation. Or torture. They can do what they like to use your pleasure against you.”

“Please!”

You had no qualms pleading to him, crying out and moaning. It made the sensations feel even more present, like you could fall into them. He made you feel safe.

“You’ve got a safe word.”

You wanted to kiss him, letting yourself try and seek out the pleasure in the agony as the machine continued to work you, this time with more purpose.

“Did you tell them anything?”

“Nothing.”

“So good…”

You moaned as the soft pressure on your clit grew more insistent. Somehow he manipulated the machine into making you come, and you felt the bruises your legs would develop from kicking out, hitting the table, the only part of your body which could convulse properly while a painful orgasm was forced onto you by the mechanism. By The Master’s instruction.

The machine didn’t stop, and you suddenly gasped, a sob wrenching from your mouth at the pure agony of the machine touching your clit, made more sensitive by your orgasm.

“Blue?” he called the safe word sharply through the microphone, and you nodded, tears falling.

Instantly, the machine stopped. You heard crashing noises, distant but relayed by the speakers. 

“I’ll be two seconds.”

You barely registered as the door behind your head opened, close to passing out and desperately grateful for the absence of stimulation against you pussy. The machine still clamped your hips to the table, filled you and brushed against you, but at least it was stationary.

His footsteps made you try and open your eyes, feeling lightheaded as he set the TCE beside your waist on the table, turning his attention to the machine.

He took it apart quickly, taking it piece at a time until he could ease out the dildo filling you, making you gasp as it stretched you one last time. He cooed praise as it finally left you, the emptiness a relief. 

The Master undid your wrist restraints distractedly, too focussed on your dishevelled appearance. The strap across your chest was crushing into your gown-covered breasts, and you knew it would bruise. He traced a finger over the flesh which bulged over the side of the tight strap, but left it in place as he wandered further down your body.

“Hi,” you croaked, beyond grateful to see his face.

He smiled at you in response, before turning his attention to where you were aching.

“Oh, pet…”

He leant over your spread legs, dragging a finger across the soaked skin where the machine had sat. Even air made you sensitive, arousal and lubrication chilling against your swollen pussy as you were exposed to the air of the clinical room.

“Does it hurt?”

You nodded, whimpering, and he pouted.

“I killed them all.”

“Deleted the recordings?”

“They’ll be destroyed as we leave, the TARDIS will back them up. First, I want this on film too.”

With a frown, you tried to discern his meaning.

“You’re so swollen… how long did they leave this on you baby? Did they stretch your pussy out?”

“It hurts…” he loved when you whined, and you noticed the twitch of his lips.

“Can I clean you up?”

You nodded, gasping when he finally reached up to undo the strap across your chest with a single hand. You caught him watching you, gazing with glassy eyes as you rubbed your fingers across the bruised flesh, moaning with relief.

“Be gentle, please.”

His tongue made firm movements, too strong to be teasing but still painfully intimate, cleaning and soothing you with a care that made your heart ache. You jolted as he accidentally brushed your clit, and he apologised, kissing at your inner thigh.

He licked his lips when he was done, and you could see the overhead lights reflected in a glimmer of your arousal on his nose. He wiped it off roughly with his sleeve when he noticed you staring, before grinning at you.

“Ready to go? I parked the TARDIS outside.”

“My hero,” you smiled, letting him help you on to shaky legs, giving you a moment to even remember how to walk.

You could tell he was hard from how he walked, trying to nonchalantly button his coat. Your hand crept down to undo the button as he guided you arm in arm to the ship, but he batted you away.

“Are you sure? I can…”

“You’ve already done more than enough doll. Did you enjoy that?”

“Um, sort of?”

He stopped, adjusting his grip to force you still too. His eyes were intense, panicking as he searched yours for meaning, for resentment. 

“Wait, what?”

“It was great, I just hope I never have to do it again.”

“Bad?”

“Not at all! Just… once in a lifetime.”

He pulled you close to him, hugging you against his side and mumbling apologies as he kissed your forehead. 

“Certainly preferable to other methods of torture, I think.” 

You tried to joke and he laughed for your sake, but his face was hidden from you. You could sense his concern.

“You’re okay, though?”

“Now that you’re here.”

You tasted yourself as you kissed him.

[thelesbianthespianposts]

HES BACK!!!!!! 😄😄😄

THE MASTER!!!!!!! 😄😄😄😄

[dandelionjack]

i know this is like. minus fourth world problems + autism, and maybe other fandoms have similar issues — i’ve never gone too deep into fandom spaces before and regret doing so — but. why are doctor who fans such incurable haters. i started watching in november after the specials aired and although i’ve been severely critical of certain unfortunate writing choices (as is my right. episodes that suck are… bad) i couldn’t fathom hating an entire series, an entire doctor’s/companion’s run let alone an entire showrunner’s tenure. you mean you can’t stand any of it??

it almost feels like… whenever i come across a person that loves to talk about nine and ten and donna and how much they loved wild blue yonder or w/e, they end up being a shallow moffat hater harping on about misogyny and one-dimensional women as if later series didn’t exist. whenever i find a fellow twelveclara understander who posts about missy and defends hell bent etc. suddenly i come across a post about how they hate rose? what could possibly compel you to dislike the character of rose tyler? i say this as somebody that isn’t a huge fan of tentoo. for more batshit examples saw a post along the lines of “don’t say you think tenmartha is interesting and then post about timepetals” like these are Characters bro. they’re not going to get sad. they are vehicles for the story they’re not people. tenrose was the carrier of the narrative in s2 and tenmartha in s3 and saying i enjoy the complexity of both of these relationships as they progress isn’t contradictory because that’s… the direction that the story takes????????

i don’t even hate chibnall era. even s11 has some redeemable bangers. what i mean is i fell in love with the show as a WHOLE . which means EVERY part of it is important to me and i don’t discount it. every next development builds on the previous. the timeless child ruined a lot of things but opened up many new avenues for exploration! i like the flux i like thasmin i like dhawan master i like the fugitive doctor i love dan and karvanista

you are all allergic to fun. sorry for getting mad about people getting mad it will (not) happen again. im going to go touch grass now

[hauntingcryptids]

Tell Me That I Belong To You

Dhawan!Master x Reader

Summary - The Reader is having a bad day. So, with the convincing of The TARDIS, The Reader seeks comfort in The Master.

Based On This Request - *This was originally based on a request but the more I continued to write and edit it, the more the fic drifted away from the prompt. So, I am just going to let this be its own fic and write another fic more closely aligned to the prompt.

Warnings - Reader not feeling well, insecurity on the part of the reader, canon typical telepathy. (let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count - 1864

A/n - Gender Neutral Reader. I have a smut version of this fic if anyone would like to read it, but I don’t want to post it if people would just prefer the fluff version. I also don’t know how good this is, but I just wanted to get something out there after feeling awful mentally for a while. So, I hope that you enjoy this :)!

--------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up with a headache. The type of headache that no matter how much water you drank, food you ate, or sun(TARDIS created sun) you layed in would cure your malady. Headaches, in general, but especially ones as bad as the one you were experiencing, always made your whole day awful. Oftentimes, the pain in your head would cause you to spiral internally until your mental health was utterly destroyed. That’s where you were now, arguing to yourself in your head about you and your “Humanness” and how you weren’t good enough for The Master. How could you possibly be good enough for The Master? Even if you weren’t Human, why would he want to be with someone like you?

The TARDIS beeped determinedly. You were becoming better at understanding The TARDIS given how much time you had spent within the ship but still you could only understand part of what she was telling you. The bits you could discern were: “The Master loves you”, “you are good enough”, “you have always been enough”, and “The Master would never think such horrible things about you. Ever!”

Eventually, you stopped The TARDIS’s rant about how great you were and that she wished that she could help improve your self-image. You thanked her for everything she said. Even though didn’t understand everything, you could feel her distress over your thoughts and her want to help you.

“The Master could help you where I fail.” The TARDIS finally said telepathically.

“He’s probably busy, though.” You mumbled, worried about upsetting him if you interrupted him while he was doing something.

“Go to him. He wouldn’t want to know that you allowed yourself to suffer when he was there ready and available to help you.” The TARDIS had to say this statement a couple of times in order for you to fully understand, and you sighed in response. She was right. The Master would be furious if he found out that you hid your distress from him, you knew that, he said as much many times before. It’s just that your brain would lie to you when you were upset.

“The Master will understand.” The sentient time and spaceship whispered into your brain. The TARDIS, given her time being The Master’s ship, knew better than anyone how the state of a person’s physical health could affect their mental health. She knew how greatly The Master suffered, therefore The Master would never judge you. The TARDIS just hoped that you knew what she knew.

“Can you lead me to The Master, please?” You asked after ruminating over everything the incredibly kind ship communicated to you. The TARDIS cheerfully directed you to the main library where The Master often lounged. 

Like many times before, The Master was sitting horizontally on the sofa reading. He seemed engrossed in the thick tome resting up against his bent thigh. The alien’s engrossed demeanour made you want to turn back and talk to The Master later, but The TARDIS reassured you with a comforting presence. Both you and the ship knew that the only person who could make you happy when you were feeling off was the rogue Time Lord.

You walked up as quietly as you could and poked the Master’s cheek with your finger. The Master looked up at you with a smile, completely unbothered. Even while agonisingly planning an upcoming plan to toy with The Doctor, you would always bring him joy just with your presence. You were never a bother to him,

“Hello, my little Human. How are you today?” The Master seemed so calm even though you expected him to be upset. You wrapped your arms around your torso anxiously and subconsciously began rocking back and forth on your feet.

“Can I sit on your lap please, Master?” You sounded tired, which worried The Master, though he chose not to react for your benefit. 

“Of course, love.” The Master placed the book he was researching and moved slightly to allow you to sit on his lap. 

As soon as you rested your body against his, The Master scooted his body down the sofa until the two of you were practically lying down. The Master then wrapped his arms firmly around your back, trapping you against his chest with the beating of his hearts rattling throughout your body. 

You breathed a sigh of relief, causing The Master to chuckle lovingly. You then nuzzled against his clothes-covered collarbones and the base of his neck and then breathed in his scent. His presence was comforting, but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Your mind still hurt and your thoughts still moved far too quickly for you to properly calm down. You assumed that your thoughts were loud, loud enough for The Master to hear, but you didn’t put any effort into hiding your thoughts. You just wanted to dissolve into The Master’s chest and to let all of your anxieties disappear.

“I’m sorry that you aren’t feeling well, Y/n.” The Master said softly against your ear. One of his hands absentmindedly caressed up and down your back.

“Make me feel good, Master, please. You’re the only one who can.” Your headache seemed to peak right before you committed yourself to asking The Master for some help. The warmth of The Master’s body against yours and the severe pain spiking through your head was too contrasting and too overwhelming to put on a brave face any longer.

“What kind of Master would I be if I didn’t take care of my beloved Human.” The feel of The Master’s smirk against your skin sparked a warmth to spread through you. The Master always made you feel better and more secure, but on bad days you just needed a bit more reassurance.

“Please tell me that you mean that?” 

“Of course I mean it, my love. You are the only person I could ever care about.” The Master adjusted slightly in order to look you in the eye. You shied away, avoiding eye contact, and The Master didn’t push you to look at him. Though he did brush a hand down the side of your face a couple of times before kissing your forehead delicately.

“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable, love.” The Master said this to inform you that he would move the two of you. He would carry you places in The TARDIS without telling you where you were going when you were feeling like your everyday self, but not when you were feeling off. The Master never wanted to add to your anxiety, so he would always tell you when he would carry you off somewhere.

The Master moved the two of you so he was sitting up with you on his lap. He wrapped your legs around his waist and held you tightly against his chest before finally standing up with you securely in his arms. Then he carried you off to your shared bedroom. 

Once in the dark-themed and dimly lit bedroom, The Master gently placed you on the bed and wrapped you up in as many blankets as you wanted and needed. He stepped back from the bed momentarily to remove his clothes that were far inferior to yours when it came to the act of cuddling and resting. Eventually, he crawled under the covers to join you on the bed. He cuddled closer to you, holding you tighter than he did in the library, and then rubbed his hands up and down your back as you returned to your place cuddling into The Master’s side.

“What do you need, my love?”

“You.” You’re speech was muffled by The Master’s neck, but he still understood you.

“Yes, but what do you need me to do? I know that you are hiding something in that beautiful mind of yours.” You felt The Master softly tap a finger against your temple, a little jolt of calmness and relief coursing through you with each tap.

“You won’t laugh at me, will you?”

“Never.” The Master answered with sincerity heavy in his tone. You nervously mumbled your response under your breath and into his neck, making this comment more difficult for The Master to decipher.

“I couldn’t hear you, love.”

“Can you tell me I belong to you?” You asked a bit louder, but you were still quiet and nervousness permeated your question. The Master’s breath caught in his throat. He tried his best to hold in his excitement brought on by your request because this moment was about you. The idea of you belonging to him was exactly what The Master wanted, more than anything in the Universe, probably even the Multiverse. What added to his growing excitement and adoration of you was the fact that The Master didn’t even have to make you feel this way. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you. Somehow, the stars aligned and they delivered the perfect person to The Master. What else could he do but give you whatever you wanted in an act of gratification?

“You belong to me, love. You always will belong to your Master. You’ll be mine forever.” The Master cuddled you impossibly closer, intertwining your bodies in a knot, and whispered into your ear with all the devotion and fervour he felt for you heavy on his tongue.

“And you really mean that -” You tried to ask again, but The Master cut you off before you could finish your insecurity-filled question. 

“Of course I mean that. I would never lie to you, especially about this.” This time when The Master moved to look you in the eye you didn’t turn away. His warm chocolate eyes held all of the sentiments that were laced within his words and even more. If it were possible, you would stare into his eyes forever. 

“Thank you, Master.”

“There is no need to thank me. You just need some rest and then you will feel better.” You huffed into The Master’s neck, just wishing that he would accept your gratitude without dismissing it.

“Come on, rest your head on my chest and close your eyes. I will deal with that headache and those pesky thoughts that were troubling you.” You did as The Master asked, already planning how you would repay The Master for everything he did for you today. 

As soon as you placed your head on The Master’s chest, the sound of his heartbeats immediately calmed you down and the pressure on your mind began to subside. The Master massaged his hands along your back, starting slowly along your neck and then moving further down toward the base of your spine. He smoothed every ache and worked out every knot and kink, all the while placing delicate kisses across your head and face. You heard him whispering praises in your ear, some in your native language and some in his. Even though you couldn’t understand everything he spoke to you, you knew that what he said was entirely comprised of his love. Because of The Master’s actions, you soon fell asleep. You were completely consumed by the rogue Time Lord’s presence, just like you wanted to be when the day began.

[plethora-of-imagines]

hello! ☺️ may i request dhawan!master being cute whilst drunk off of ginger and the reader gets to tease him about it (if you’re comfortable with the topic of course!) thanks! 💜

This has been sitting in my inbox for a long while.... opps. Sometimes my brain just goes "thats such a good prompt, lets just horde it instead of actually writing it".... This is one of those cases.

Oof.

The book in your hands slid from your fingertips. Air knocked out of your lungs in surprise when firm arms warped around your waste and yanked you backwards into someone’s chest.

The Master rested his head on your shoulder, curling possessively around your body as he hummed and rocked side to side with you.

“Master?”

“Hmmm?” He made the cutest little confused sound.

“What are you doing?”

Silence was your answer for several minutes. Almost as if you had managed to puzzle him and he didn’t know why he was holding you.

“Is this not cuddling?”  He slowly asked in a confused tone. “I thought we both knew what cuddling was...”

His speech was slightly slurred, you could smell the hint of ginger on his breath. Was he drunk?

Suddenly without warning he lightly bit down on your shoulder. Yelping at the sensation.

“Shhhhhh.”

“You bit me!”

“Your fault,” he grumpily responded.

“Oh yeah?” You were starting to realize the humor in the moment. He was like a drunk white girl. “It’s my fault you bit me.”

He took your teasing as a serious question.

“You’re too cute, what’s it called? Yeah, cuteness aggression. You’re cute, so I had to bite you. It’s the law.”

“The law, yeah? Does the law also mean we have to cuddle standing up too? Eep!”

In mere moments you were awkwardly lifted into the air. Vision spinning as your head was upside down. His drunk mind not bothering to think to support your head. Almost a princess carry- yet so far off from one that you didn’t know what to even call it.

The moment a flat surface was present- a comfortable cot that for some inexplicable reason was in the random hallway (Maybe it was the TARDIS taking pity on you)- he flopped down on top of you. Nuzzling contentedly into your chest where his head landed.

“Mhmm cuddly human,” he cooed. “Should have gotten you regenerations ago.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah... love you too much to let the others take you first now.”

“Not going to share even with yourself,” you teased while playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“They don’t deserve you. I don’t either but finders takers.”

“Do you mean finders keepers?”

“Stupid human phrases,” he grumbled. “Don’t make any sense.”

“Awww don’t worry Master, I’m sure your big brains will eventually learn them.”

His chin dug in between your collar bones as he threw his head up to glare at you.

“Shut up.”

Trying to stifle your giggles as he looked like a cute angry kitten.

“I’m going to kill you once I feel I can move again.”

You didn’t think his thread held much weight when he was almost falling asleep mid sentence.

(459 words)

[littlelambscandyland]

"O"h No

Yandere(?)Cg!Dhawan!Master x Little!Fem!Reader

Notes- I've discovered both the Master and Missy, so don't be surprised when I spam stories for them, I've fallen in love.

Warnings- Identity Theft (lol), Hypnotism, Sad/Manic O(Master)

The beating on your door rang loudly through your flat. Not so much angry as it was panicked pounding. You rushed as quickly to the door as you could. Cautionary instinct overrides care and you check the peephole. Concern draws on your brows when you see your best friend pacing in the hall. Quickly you open the door.

Instantly O stops his pacing and looks to you with pained eyes.

"What happened?" You question allowing him to speed into your flat as you close the door and follow his steps to the living room.

"What happened?" He laughs, but it sounds strained and hurt. "I can't-" He laughs again. "I can't tell you what happened."

It's a bit frightening how he paces around pulling at his hair. He mumbles angrily and laughs maniacally and stomps loudly around the room.

"Well, how, um, how do I help you."

"Come here." He commands with his arms out wide and his eyes staring down into yours heavily. You can see dirt (or was it soot?) on his hands.

Without hesitation you walk into his hold and he cradles you against his chest. O rocks lightly back and forth. His shaky breath is loud in your ears. He smells like galbanum and smoke.

You've never seen him like this. The man has always been almost calm in a way, happy. Of course, he's had his manic streaks, but never like this. It scared you. Not for yourself but for whatever happened to him that hurt him so deeply.

"My baby... So sweet." O whispers out, still rocking the both of you. "My babygirl..."

He moves his head and buries his face in your hair. A blush crosses your face at the nickname he normally reserves for your regression.

"You would never lie to me, would you?"

"Why would I lie to you?" You question back at the odd inquiry.

You can hear him breathe out a smile; whether it's genuine or not you can't tell. O holds you by the shoulders and pulls you off to look you in the eyes. You've felt it before, the odd feeling dragging and pulling you sometimes when you look him in the eyes. They were such a deep beautiful shade.

"Tell me the truth. Would you ever lie to me?" He questions again.

As much as you want to question him again, the answer slips out before you can think. "No."

A smile widens across his face. He looks at you with eyes that are crazed yet filled with adoration.

"Do you love me?" He asks and you feel that pull again.

"Yes."

His grip and eyes lose some of their intensity. "Are you my little girl?"

"Uh huh." You answer with a nod, the feeling of slipping suddenly overwhelming you.

You try to fight the feeling. You're supposed to be comforting him! You can't just regress all willy nilly! You can feel yourself slipping more as what feels like a force pushes into your mind.

Like he read your mind, O comforts you back. "It's okay, darling, I want to take care of you." He pulls you back into a hug and he sounds close to pleading. "Let me have this. Just- Let me have my baby."

Bonus The Fam Dialogue!! (A Little While After the Reveal)

"He doesn't love her. He doesn't love anyone. Maybe Missy could have, but she's long gone now, and the Master doesn't care for anyone, and most certainly doesn't care for a human." The Doctor rants anxiously.

"Well..."

"Well, what? Don't "well" me." She pouts.

"I think Graham's just a little confused, like the rest of us, because he probably noticed even when the Master was pretending to be O he looked at her like she hung the stars." Yaz explains. "Perhaps it's possible that he does feel something for her."

"He did teleport her off the plane." Ryan tacs on.

"And live with her for 9 months."

"And called her "baby"." Graham chimes in.

"He doesn't- He can't- There's no way he feels- He's not in love with her, so it has to be something else." The Doctor stutters through. "What else could there be?"

"She regresses."

"She what?"

"Regresses." Yaz states. "She told me about it once. Essentially, she sometimes feels like a child."

"So when he called her baby he meant it in a more literal sense?"

"That still doesn't-" The Doctor cuts herself off. "She's the same one that Missy fell for."

"What do you mean?" Graham questions.

"Missy. The Mistress, that's who his last regeneration was. She told previous me that she fell in love with a human, but not, not in the romantic sense. No, she said she loved her like a mother would. She never interacted with the girl because she was too scared she'd put her in danger. I suppose that's another thing that's changed..."

"So do we still need to save her?"

"I would say yes, but does she even need saving?"