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elf-punk · 6 months

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A Moment of Sympathy (Simm!Master x Reader)

Pairing: Simm!Master x Fem!Reader

Summary: Work sucks and your relationship is falling apart. As you’re walking home from a rough day, you come across a disheveled, blonde man in a black hoodie. His words are erratic and his mannerisms give you the chills, but you’re drawn to him. He is unambiguously and criminally insane, but you can’t help but stop and listen to his tales.

Tales of red pastures, orange skies, and travels through time and space.

Chapter List Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Chapter Word Count: 2.3k

You’d never considered yourself a workaholic, but the last few weeks had seen you holed up in your office, tapping away at a keyboard with coffee cups stacked up to your eyes virtually every evening.

It won’t be like this for long, you naively promised yourself as you texted yet another apologetic “No can do, way too busy tonight” to your partner’s dinner invitation.

You loved them, but life just kept getting in the way.

Dreading the look of resigned frustration that would fill their eyes at your next meeting (and God knew when that would be), you re-oriented yourself onto the final task of the evening: a string of emails which ran away from you during the day. Your fingers blazed across your workspace as you opened, composed, and sent one reply after another, far past the point of checking for politeness. After clicking Send on one final, mind-numbingly dull reimbursement request for your latest conference, you breathed a sigh of relief and exhaustion.

Done for now.

Forcing yourself not to think about the prospect of going home only to wake up and do it all over again tomorrow, you shuffled on your coat and slipped your phone in your pocket, relegating the several texts and missed calls from your partner to the bottom of your parka. You also grabbed the still-packaged fruit and nut bar which lay untouched on your desk, balking at the realisation that seven hours had passed since your last meal or snack. Stepping out of the door, you adjusted to the darkness which now coated your city.

You set a heavy, fast-paced stride away from your building, allowing brief flashes of the day to drift through your mind like waves against a river bank. The endless meetings, reviews, and reports, the idle chatter with your co-workers over a drab sandwich in the staff kitchen appeared as a hazy smudge in your mind’s eye. It was as though you were already asleep, already dreaming. You picked up the pace, descending into a near-jog as your mind focused razor sharp on the prospect of sleep.

That was, until you heard a rustle in the blackness.

You froze dead in your tracks and whipped your head over your shoulder. Your eyes scanned precisely for the source of the sound, but you couldn't see a thing. All that lay in front of you was endless dark stretching out along the path, broken up only by a few flickering streetlights dotted across the horizon.

Probably just a fox, you told yourself, desperately trying to ignore the part of your brain that was screaming danger in big, bright, red letters. You continued to walk down the path, this time with your key wedged firmly between your index and middle finger.

On you walked, relief building the longer you went without being clobbered to your death. Just as you were about to turn a corner towards a busier strip of road and put your key back in your pocket, you heard another sound. Scuttling footsteps to your right—wait no, your left! No, there they were to your right again! Your heart raced as you flicked your eyes between the shadowy garages either side of you, cursing your inability to see a thing in the blackness of the night.

There was definitely someone or something there, but it was impossible to tell what. If it was a person, they would need to be moving inhumanly fast to cross the path so quickly. You scrunched your eyes shut, pinched your arm, and prayed that it would be moments before the world dissolved and you woke up in your bed. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. Your veins turned to ice as you were denied the relief of this being a simple nightmare from which you could jolt awake.

The scuttling stopped, and was replaced with the unmistakable sound of heavy, ragged breathing squarely behind you. The source of the breathing moved closer, and closer still, until it stopped about two meters away from your shivering frame. It was close enough to ascertain that whoever was behind you was male, slim, and about a head taller than you.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you fumbled around for your key and wedged it between your fingers once again. The figure’s breaths began to take on a rasping, wheezing quality, and in one swift motion, you turned.

A thin, hooded figure stood before you, a man so wraith-like in physique and disposition that you wondered if you'd walked onto the set of Ghostbusters. He was clothed in rugged, black clothes and you squinted in the dark as you tried to discern where the blackness of your surroundings ended, and he began. The only fragment of colour you could see was a deep, burgundy t-shirt poking out from underneath his sweatshirt and a sharp jawline dotted with blond stubble which bobbed underneath his hood as he spoke.

“Can you help me?” The figure rasped. “I am so hungry.”

The voice was ravenous, possessing a desperate and carnal quality that curdled your blood. A distinct lack of humanity emanated from the figure. He possessed a human-like stature, yes, two legs, two arms, and a head, but he inspired a cosmic dread that surpassed any horrors the Earth could possibly concoct.

You shook from head to toe, barely registering his words.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whispered.

The figure grinned, hungrily, mirthlessly and took a step towards you.

“Oh not yet, primate.” A ghostly hand slipped out from under his sleeve and scratched his stubble. “The hurting is yet to come. But for now, I am so very hungry.” The grin split across his face as he advanced towards you.

You felt as though every organ in your body was being stretched, squeezed, and turned inside out all at once. Your stomach tensed and sweat began to bead on your forehead as your baser instincts sprang forth. You were ready to run. The images flashed in your head; you would bolt past the figure, key-in-hand, and hurtle towards the high street, screaming so loud that the Prime Minister would hear. You balled up your fists, took a laboured breath and readied yourself. But then-

“Oh don’t even think about running, my dear,” the figure chuckled darkly. “I see your mind, and you will obey me.”

And in an instant, you sank.

All thoughts of clawing out the man’s eyes with your key and sprinting to the nearest bus stop dissolved into a soft, hazy glow as your thoughts ran quiet. There was no fear, no anticipation, just calm and contentment wrapped around the idle realisation that you would likely die tonight.

“That’s a girl,” he crooned, taking a gentle step forwards.

The “man” who had mere seconds ago, struck deathly fear into every fibre of your very vulnerable and exposed being, now inspired a sense of calm and adoration. You weren’t sure what he had done, but his machinations were such that you no longer feared him—not in the way you previously had.

He was your master, and you would obey him.

Satisfied with the success of his hypnotism, he flicked his hand over his head and his hood came tumbling down, revealing a patch of dirty blond hair and a youthful face—less horrifying than you had anticipated, but unsettling nonetheless. The eyes were sharp and bottomless, the lips perpetually curved into a deranged, lopsided grin.

Mild surprise crept upon you as you realised that the face was familiar.

It couldn’t be!

The man sensed your recognition, and an irritated glare passed over his round face.

“Yes, alright. Get it out of the way! It’s me, your old Prime Minister!” He spat, throwing his arms out theatrically. “Now get me something to eat, ape!”

Finally, at the third time of asking, you realised what he had been saying to you.

Food.

Your hand slammed against your pocket and you produced one untouched Eat Natural bar.

Saxon’s eyebrows raised curiously, and a playful smile tugged at his mouth as he took the bar from your hands and turned it around in his own, as if inspecting a new gadget.

“I would rather something more… substantial,” he quipped, narrow-eyed. “But this will do.”

His nimble fingers tore at the wrapping, shredding and ripping. He shoved the bar against his open mouth and devoured it obnoxiously, barely stopping to chew as if it could be snatched from him at any moment. He spent only a few moments eating—if you could even call it that, before practically licking his hands clean and picking at his nails as if to surrender any last residue of food into his ever-wanting mouth. The sight was monstrous, and bore more resemblance to a ghoul savaging its prey rather than the actions of a sentient being, but in your subdued haze, you merely stood and watched with a soft frown on your face.

“I hope you aren’t allergic to peanuts,” you muttered. You suddenly wondered how you could be calm enough to crack jokes with this abomination, who as it turned out, was the former Prime Minister—the very one who had decimated the President of the United States live on television.

“Mmmph. I hippohhye choo,” he mumbled between licks of his fingers. “Ijjot.”

“What?”

The stranger rolled his eyes in agitation.

“I hypnotised you, idiot,” he said flatly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s why you’re so calm. Think of it as charity,” he said, scowling darkly and swallowing the final morsels of the bar. “your primitive human minds are a disgrace, always darting back and forth between the past, present, and future, like a dog chasing its tail. I’ve—how can I put this—refined it.”

So he could read your thoughts?

“As if it’s that simple,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “The mind isn’t a book that one can simply read at will. I can, however, extract and interpret neural signals from one as primitive as yourself. Think of it like catching stones as they flow along the universe’s dullest river.” he continued boredly.

“That sounds a lot like mind-reading to me.”

The next few moments flashed by in an instant. One second you were standing in the middle of the alley, the next you were backed up against a garage door, held with inhuman strength. Stars exploded behind your eyes and a splitting pain coursed through your head. The calm was gone and you were once again, shaking and crying in fear as your assailant closed in on you, blocking any possibility of escape.

“Look at me,” he growled.

You could barely hear him, but you felt a vague tugging in your mind; a soft force which compelled your eyes upwards.

You opened your mouth to scream.

In the place of the once sharp, but youthful face was a ghoulish and skeletal head from which a harsh, white light radiated. Insanity was chiselled across his features: it had always been there, bubbling and simmering under the surface, but it now stood bare in the unfathomable depths of his sunken eyes.

This was not a rugged trickster who you could talk circles around. It wasn't the dashing and amicable politician who had visited cat shelters, shook hands with the Royal Family, and so smoothly woven his way through the journalists' questions on prime time television.

This was a being who had shed the blood of billions.

You tried to force your eyes away from the mind-bending sight, but to no avail. He kept you fixed upon him, seemingly intent on driving you to the brink of madness.

“You think this is a joke?” The creature spat in a roaring, distorted growl. “Were you under the impression that this was a conversation of equals?”

Finally managing to squeeze your eyes shut, you babbled incoherently, and pleaded for your life through ragged sobs and gasps.

“N-No, please!” You wailed, dropping to the floor. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t kill me!”

Silence.

Seconds ticked by as the killing blow failed to land.

Minutes.

A wild thought rushed through your head: maybe he was gone?

It could have been hours since you’d heard that infernal voice, seen that grotesque face. Moment by moment, you relaxed your eyes, which had been squeezed shut so tightly that the dull throb of a migrane was beginning to set into your left temple. You fluttered your eyes open, and the pit in your stomach opened up again, at the sight of Saxon—no longer an eldritch monstrosity, but still very much there—boredly, and perhaps concernedly gazing down at you.

You choked out a barely intelligible “What are you?” before descending into a babbling fit of trembles and tears.

Saxon pouted.

“Don’t be like that,” he said flatly. “Thought I’d have a bit of fun: this body is burning off my life force faster than I can replenish it. Will probably expire in a few hours, why not scare a few apes to death in my final moments?” He finished, sighing dramatically.

His hypnotism returned in full force, and you sank back into the soft, woolly haze that had characterised your previous encounter. A thin, but strong hand grabbed the fabric of your parka and gracefully lifted you to your feet. You were now standing eye-to-eye, and you didn’t skip a beat before gazing into his eyes, desperate to channel more and more of the calm serenity that his hypnotism brought about. You clawed at it with your mind as though it could disappear at any moment. He noticed, and grinned slyly.

“It is nice, isn’t it? To relinquish your mind to another.” he said softly.

You nodded in response.

“Now, why don’t we get something more substantial to eat?”

#the master #simm!master #simm!master x reader #doctor who #the master x reader #dhawan!master #missy #john simm #sacha dhawan #michelle gomez #fanfic #my writing #dr who #reader insert

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how-masterful · 10 months

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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.

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fxlling13 · 9 months

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Lie

Dh!master x fem!reader

Synopsis: the master and the doctor both notice how much you have changed over the past few months. And it worries them.

Warnings: abuse, physical and mental. Injuries, breakdowns, Death, murder. The master kills a man. Victim blaming . Manipulation. Probably more.

Sitting in the console room, the master put his paper down and looked up. The doctor was under the console, trying to improve on something. He honestly didn't care enough to ask. Instead, there was something else on his mind. Sitting forward, he scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"What is it? Because I can hear your brain working from here." The blonde said, not moving from her spot.

"Have you noticed anything off about (y/n)?" Sliding out, the doctor sat up and pulled her goggles off.

"Oh thank god its not just me."

Coming to stand in front of him, she crossed her arms.

"She's been attached to you. It's like everything else scares her." Her observation was indeed correct and whilst the master wasn't complaining, it was worrying.

"She used to be so confident and brave. When did it change?" He asked, looking up at his old friend. She hummed, pacing slightly to try and think clearer.

"I dont think there's any point in being coy, she's obviously the closest to you out of any of us. If anyone can find out, it's you." nodding, the master stood and cracked his neck.

"I'll try my best. Should we go pick everyone up?"

They landed in the usual spot in Sheffield. Yaz was already there, bounding in once the doors were fully materialised. The master almost laughed at how excited she was to see the doctor. Dan was next, on time as usual. Immediately, he began to brag about his date with Diane. Not bothering to listen, the master stood by the door and waited. His fingers tapped against his arm worriedly. Thirty minutes late by this point, he huffed walking back over to the console.

"We could always go forward in time, to the point she arrives?" Yaz suggested but they shook their head.

"I want to see how late she is. You two can go decide on where we go alright?" Agreeing with the doctor, yaz and Dan sat on the steps discussing.

I was practically running down the street. Well, I say running, hobbling would be more accurate. I'd made him really angry this time. Stupid mistake. I shouldn't of mentioned any of my friends. Especially not him, but I couldn't help it. Not when I'd grown so close to the master. He was always there for me, to help me get away from the hell at home. Taking a deep breath, I looked at my phone and saw I was nearly an hour late. They were definitely going to question me. I entered the tardis anyway, a fake smile plastered on my face.

"Ah! (Y/n)!" The doctor cheered, rushing over to me. Giggling, I shut the door to block out the cold. I was only in a thin sweatshirt, even in the winter. Only because he had ripped my clothes to shreds.

"Sorry I'm late. Train was delayed." I lied through my teeth, praying to myself that it was convincing. Grinning, the doctor grabbed my arm and pulled me to the console. I couldn't help but wince, not expecting her to do that. Looking to my side, I saw the master stood there. He was leaning against a pillar with his hands in his pockets. Jacket discarded and sleeves rolled up, I almost blushed just seeing him. He simpered, coming to my side.

"Have a good few days off?" No. Doing my best to seem happy, I nod and told a few false stories to them.

"Well that's great! Yaz, have you decided where we're going?" The doctor asked, the pair coming to join us. The brunette suggested something and the doc got to work piloting. Suddenly, a hand landed on my shoulder. Out of reflex, I flinched harshly and covered myself from harm. But nothing happened. Lowering my arms, found the master looking at me with worry. I just laughed it off, swallowing down my anxiety.

"Everything alright?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" I responded way to quickly and I knew he thought that.

"You've got a bruise on your cheek." He pointed out, thumb brushing against it softly.

Oh no. In my rush I obviously forgot to cover it.

"Oh yeah. Funny story that. Walked right onto a door frame." All he did was nod at my fake tale. Slowly, he opened his arms.

"Come here." Not needing to be told twice, I wrapped my arms around his waist and sank into his hold immediately. How could I not fall in love? From the minute he began to travel with us, the master was by my side. He'd put himself before me no matter what.

"You know I'd never hurt you, right?" Even the way he spoke with me was so soft. So genuine.

"Of course."

Three mad, near death adventures later, we were gathered round the console exhausted.

"So, drop you off to recharge yeah?" My heart dropped at the doctors words but I knew I had no choice. Yaz nod, happy to get some rest. And Dan, well he wanted his girlfriend. All I could focus on was the fact I'd have to see my 'boyfriend' again. No matter how many times I tried to break up, he wouldn't let me go.

"(Y/n)? You okay?" Dan appeared next to me. I jumped, not expecting to hear his voice. He looked confused at my reaction and lifted a hand; probably to touch my shoulder in hindsight. Backing up, I felt my back hit someone's chest. I relaxed, recognising that it was the master.

"I'm fine, sorry. Zoned out." Unconvinced, Dan didn't have time to reply as we landed abruptly. Heading for the door, the doctor stopped me.

"Stay safe." Oh how I wish she knew. But they could never know. Without responding, I left and hurried home.

--------☆

Counting to ten, I took a deep breath then went inside my house. The tv was blaring, some old Hollywood movie. Realising he wasn't there, I made my way to the kitchen. It was a state as usual. Pans piled high, moldy plates and stained glasses. Plus, it stunk of stale food.

"Where have you been?" A slurred voice came from behind me. All the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

"Answer me!" He yelled, forcing me to turn around. Having me trapped against the counter, my heart rate picked up.

"With my friends." Mistake number one. Rolling his eyes, the taller gripped my wrist so tight, I thought it might break.

"Stop lying! Are you cheating? I bet you are. You're such a whore! Sleeping with every man you lay your eyes on." Whimpering at his accusations, I shook my head fiercely.

"No I swear!" Mistake number two. Chuckling dryly, he sneered.

"Did you just yell at me? Huh, you little bitch." My body began to shake as I knew what was coming. When I said nothing, the drunk male slapped me. I fell to the floor with a thud.

"Let me guess, you were off with that man you told your mother about?" Now internally screaming at myself for talking about the master, I chose to remain silent.

"What's so good about him anyway? I bet he's just some ugly little rat. Could never be a better man than me." Anger boiled beneath the surface. Without thinking, I snapped.

"Dont talk shit about him!" Third mistake. His eyes were vacant and soulless. Saying nothing, he grabbed the wine bottle from the counter and smashed it on the edge. Glass exploded around me as I let out a scream. He held it up, ready to use.

"You're gonna regret that slut."

--------☆

Tuesday couldn't come fast enough, it had been hell these past three days. As soon as the tardis came into view, I rushed in. Everything hurt, everything was sore. I wanted to collapse and never wake up. Everyone looked at me, they all seemed to be staring. Especially the master, who stood straight upon seeing me with his brows knit tight together.

"What?" I asked confused, chest still heaving from my run.

"Your nose is bleeding." Yaz told me. Touching my nose, I found that she was right. The master stepped forward without warning and I yelped, jumping back. He froze, eyes showing clear worry. All at once, everyone moved closer. Not being able to handle all the attention, I rushed past and ran to my room on board. Going into the bathroom, I shut the door before banging my fist against it repeatedly. That man ruined everything. Why couldn't I just be happy? I turned the shower on then peeled off my clothes, it was so painful. None of the wounds were treated and they were all fresh. Stepping into the shower, I slid down the wall and sat there; letting the water run over me.

Back in the console room, everyone stood not knowing what happened. The doctor gave the master a look. He nod then turned to the humans.

"What does (y/n) do at home?" They both shrugged, not having a clue.

"She never talks about it with us. Dodges the subject mostly." Dan admitted. Sighing, the master tried to peice everything together. But, with so little evidence, it was hard. Then it hit him and god, did he hope he was wrong.

"Who does she live with?" He asked, wary of what the answer could be.

"She used to live with her boyfriend." Yaz told him, sitting on the console beside the doctor. The blonde tilted her head.

"Used to?"

"Well, she wanted to break up with him. But she still could I suppose?" Wetting his lips, the master thought over everything. It was about four months ago (for them, not him and the doctor. Time travel and all that.) that this has all started.

"When did she say she wasn't happy?"

"I dunno. Three, four months?" He looked at the doctor to see she was frowning. They were thinking the same thing.

"Go." She said and he didn't need to be told twice. The master ran down to my room, not bothering to inform the other humans. The doctor would do that for him.

Doing my best not to cry, I began to feel numb at the burn against the cuts. I'd dealt with worse. The bathroom door was suddenly thrust open, I screamed and covered myself best I could. In the entrance, the master stood there. It was too late, he'd seen it all. All the damage my body had. Shutting the door, he reached in and turned the water off; grabbing a towel in the process. He crouched in front of me, wrapping the towel around my back. His eyes scanned over every scar, cut and bruise. Without question, he pulled me into his embrace.

"What has he done to you?" Knowing that he'd figured it all out, the floodgates opened and I broke down in his arms.

"Shhh, its okay now. I've got you." Not able to respond, I just cried more. I didn't deserve his time at all, yet here he was.

"How about, we get you dry? I'll take care of your wounds. Then, I'll make sure you're nice and comfortable. Is that okay?" Nodding slowly, the master picked me up and sat me on the counter. He pulled out a clean towel, to replace the now damp one and dried me off very gently. Making sure to pat my skin with great care. After putting on some underwear, the elder disappeared for a few minutes before returning with a med kit. It was silent as he aided all the deep gashes and bruises littered on my skin. Taking my hand in his, he observed the hand shaped bruise on my wrist. It wasn't the worst injury I had, but definitely the most noticeable. I knew for a fact my back was in bad condition along with my stomach.

"He won't get away with this. I swear that. I'm going to throw him in a black hole." That comment made me giggle for the first time in ages. Smirking, the master handed me my fluffy pyjama hoodie and pair of shorts. Actually, they looked more like boxers. Either way, I wasn't complaining and put them on.

"Come on. Bed. You need rest."

"I'm fine-" a stern look cut me off. Of course, I was not fine. Instead, he carried me to my bed and sat me under the duvet.

"I'll be right back." He told me then disappeared. Resting my head back against the headboard, I took a deep breath. What was going to happen now? I was going to end up homeless. All alone. My eyes filled with tears yet again. Once everyone here found out it would be so embarrassing. They'd definitely judge, or laugh. Maybe? My head was a mess at that point.

"Hey, hey. Why are you crying sweets?" Not looking up, I heard the master speak before coming over. Something was placed on my side table, i didn't know what. His arms encased me, moving me so I was sat between his legs and leaning on his chest. I sniffled, hiding myself in his chest sheepishly.

"Talk to me (y/n). I want to help you." He tried but I just couldn't believe him. So, I shook my head at him.

"Please?" Turning myself slightly, I buried my face into his purple vest. My shoulders shook violently. Instantly, he began to rub my back soothingly.

"I hate him." I stuttered out, feeling pathetic.

"Tell me everything. I'm here for you. I'll listen." Taking a deep breath, I pressed myself against the warm male more. Though I found it hard to believe, that he'd actually be interested in listening to me, I wasn't going to pass up the chance to vent.

"It started a few months ago. He'd always been angry, he'd yell when I made mistakes or did something he didn't like. But when he started getting physical, I tried to leave. He didn't like that and he pushed me down the stairs." The masters grip on me immediately tightened after I had said that. Clearly, he was angry but I wasn't scared at all.

"After that, it didn't stop. Every time I forgot something, he'd hit me. If I spoke back, he'd hit me. If I went out alone, if I didn't clean, if I didn't cook. Especially when I spoke about you guys. Everything landed with him getting angry. And he took it out on me. Every time." I concluded, his vest getting damp from my tears but he didn't mind. Holding my shoulders, the master pushed me back and held me at a comfortable distance.

His thumbs brushed my cheeks dry, a calming look in his eyes. Before he could say anything, I spoke out my own insecurities.

"Now I'm going to be on the streets right? I'm gonna be alone again. I don't want to be alone, please. Please don't leave me alone."

"Shh, come here." Hooking his hands under my arms, the master sat me on his lap properly; head landing in the crook of his neck. Now straddling his thighs, I was much more snug against him and able to hug him tightly. His arms were almost possessive around my waist, but i enjoyed it.

"I am never going to let you be alone. Ever. You're stuck with me. And I promise you, that he will pay." He spoke softly, kissing my cheek soon after. Turning pink, I managed to collect myself a little. My body began to go a little limp in his hold, everything seemingly catching up with me.

"Are you tired?" All I could do was nod at his words, i could tell he wanted me to sleep. But I was scared.

"Can't sleep."

"Why not love?"

"Nightmares." Understanding, the master cupped my cheeks and stared into my eyes.

"Would you like me to help with that." Nodding once again, his lips pressed against my temple and I was out for the count. Once I was asleep, the master tucked me in then stood. For a moment, he pondered what to do then began his journey back to the console room. The doctor looked at him anxiously, clearly wanting to know what happened.

"I want to kill him." He told her directly, alerting both yaz and Dan. They rushed over as he came in front of the doctor. She inhaled deeply, staring at him with intent.

"Its bad?"

"Its worse than you can imagine. Tell me no or else I'm going to kill him." Quickly, the blonde started to fly her ship. Rushing around the console, she flicked different levers and pushed the right buttons. The tardis landed with a thud.

"Where are we?" The master asked, forehead lined with frustration. All those pent up feelings weren't good for the mind.

"Outside (y/n)s House." She went over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Get him." Their eyes went wide in shock. The doctor was actually giving him permission to kill him. Not needing to be told twice, the master grabbed his jacket and rushed out.

Just waking up from a black out, the unsuspecting male stumbled into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine. Suddenly, the door slammed behind him, causing him to jump and drop the drink. He turned and saw the outline of another man in the shadows. Out came the master, arms folded tightly. Backing up, the human was utterly confused.

"What are you doing in my house?" He slurred, eyes going up and down repeatedly. Chuckling, he walked closer and unfolded his arms, revealing a dagger in his fist. Immediately, the man sobered up and swallowed thickly.

"What's your name?" The master asked, not sparing him a glance.

"Michael." Nodding, he took another step closer as Michael began shaking.

"Hello Michael. You're going to come with me." Of course, he complied and followed the master out and into the tardis. Once on board, he was in a state if shock. But the master payed this no mind and began to fly the tardis skillfully. Once he was happy with the place they were adrift, he stalked back over.

"Before you die- and believe me, you really are going to die- tell me. What pleasure did you get out of hurting (y/n)?" Michael's face went sour, realisation setting in. He scoffed and looked away.

"Is that what all this is about? That stupid girl. For fuck sake!" Raising his brows, the master watched in amusement, as the human had his tantrum.

"What bullshit has she been spewing now? All she does is lie! Even made up some guy with a dumb name. Just to pretend anyone would actually give a fuck about her! I never hurt her! She's just pathetic." He told him, rolling his eyes afterwards. It was silent for a second before he began again and, as you can imagine, the rage was growing tenfold inside the timelord.

"I did not hurt her! Never. God she's infuriating. Are you just going to stand there? Looking at me as if I'm stupid, it's unnerving." Michael asked, making the master shake his head with a slight pout.

"No you carry on. You're only making your death more painful." The look in his eyes was that of ice and he felt his blood go cold. It finally set in. Whoever this man was, he was being serious.

"Why do you care so much?" Ignoring the question, the master tutted quietly and lead him to the doors.

"This 'guy with a dumb name'? What did she call him?"

"Uh- The master I think. Why does that matter? Who even are you?" A smirk grew on his lips, gazing at the male with a murderous glint in his eye.

"Well, I'm not made up. That much, I'll tell you." Clicking in, Michael looked extremely confused and took a step away.

"You're the master? You're real? So she was cheating! That little bitch! When I get my hands on her I'm going t-" Instantly, the dagger was pressed to his throat, cutting him off. The master pushed him against the closed door, teeth gritted together.

"You really are thick." He laughed out but wasn't happy even in the slightest. Michael let out a strangled breath, staring at him in fear.

"Never hurt someone I love. It won't end well for you." Gripping the back of his shirt, he opened the doors to reveal looming darkness.

"What's that?"

"That, stupid human, is a black hole." The master muttered, taking the dagger away from his neck. Without a second thought, he impaled Michael's waist. He cried out but the master didn't care. Instead, he drew him in closer and spoke into his ear.

"Enjoy your time in hell." With that final statement, he was thrown out into the void, tardis doors shutting behind him. Resting his head against the doors, he let out a breath. At least he knew this therapy was working. The master didn't get half as much joy as he used to. But he didn't regret it. Not at all. Feeling a hand land on his shoulder, he turned to see the doctor. She had a sympathetic smile.

"Go. She needs you." He smiled, nodding in recognition before heading back down to my room. Finding I was still asleep, he took off his shoes, jacket and waist coat, before slipping in on the free side. Carefully, he pulled me closer and relaxed as I subconsciously attached myself to him. Maybe even he could fall asleep like this.

Groggy, my eyes forced themselves open. Going to move, I found myself under something- or someone- weighted. Looking to my left, I found the master. He's was sleeping. That was odd, he never slept. Taking this opportunity, I sunk back down and buried my face into his chest. It was warm and safe.

My movements must have woke him as he stirred a moment later. His hands tightened on my waist and I quickly hid my face in his shirt.

"That doesn't make you invisible you know?"

Turning red, I gazed up at him.

"You were asleep."

"No I wasn't."

"Was." It went silent. Just staring at each other until he gave in. Casting his eyes to the beams on the ceiling, the master spoke.

"Maybe I was." I smiled and tried to adjust, get more comfortable.

"You never sleep." Carefully, the male pulled me further onto his chest, a hand still encasing the dip of my waist.

"No, I just can't sleep. There's a difference, love." Ignoring how my blush grew, I allowed myself to bask in his warmth. It felt nice. It fight oddly right. To be there, in his arms. A man I was once told to fear, to avoid at all cost. He now lay here holding me as if I could disappear. Mind starting to catch up, I suddenly remembered just how I got in this situation.

"What did you do? When I was asleep?" I asked, looking up at the master with wonder. He rolled his head against the pillow, eyes scanning my face. A hand traced the bruise on my cheek tentivley, a tense sigh breathing by his lips.

"Do you want the truth, right now? I don't want to upset you." Our eyes locked and I nod surely, letting him know I could handle the truth.

"I took Michael. I listened to his shitty lies. I let him talk, let him grow scared. Though, I could have done it for longer but I was too angry." He started, glaring up at nothing in particular. Sensing his growing anger, I reached forward and laced our fingers together. The master looked at our hands, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.

"I stabbed him. I threw him into a black hole. He's in a million pieces now. Floating through space. Dead." Maybe he was expecting me to recoil in fear, or give him a lecture. Instead, I sat up with a smile. I leant down and kissed his cheek, causing his eyes to widen in the process.

"Thank you. For saving me." Even if my voice was quiet, the master grinned and sat himself up as well.

"You don't have to thank me doll. I'd do it again in a heart beat." Pushing back the covers, the master got himself up.

"Wait right here." Then, he rushed out, leaving me alone. I smiled to myself, going to the bathroom. After doing what needed to be done, I washed my hands and looked in the mirror. As much as I loved my hoodie, I pulled it off and felt more comfortable. Seeing as I was wearing a sports bra, I turned and head back into my room. It wouldn't matter, I could throw a tshirt on if the master was uncomfortable. Crawling back onto my bed, I sat on my knees and grabbed my phone. Finally, I deleted Michael's number and hovered over my photo gallery. Once I have clicked on it, my heart dropped at all the cold memories stored there. They hurt to see. So caught up in my phone, I didn't hear the door open. The master looked up and froze, eyes raking over my figure. Quickly, he shook those thoughts away and came to my side, gently placing two mugs down on the bedside table.

"What are you doing?" He asked, moving so my back was flush to his chest. I showed him my phone screen, all the photos now highlighted.

"I'm deleting all of it." Nodding, the master watched as I did so and noticed how my eyes grew sad at the now black screen.

"Dont be upset, love. Its over now." Gently, he pulled me between his legs, resting back against the pillows. My body followed his, relaxing against him.

"I made you tea." Carefully, he handed me a steaming cup of tea. I took it gratefully, blowing the steam in effort to cool it. For a while, we sat there, drinking tea whilst I listened to a few of his stories. I loved hearing about his and the doctors childhood. It sounded almost magical. Whilst the master was speaking, I looked up and found myself staring at the alien. At least now I didn't have to feel guilty about my feelings. Not that I ever did, it's not like I wanted to be either Michael in the end. The cup, now empty, was taken from my grasp, knocking me out of my daydream. The master grinned down at me, brushing his fingers through my hair.

"What's with that look?"

"What look?" I asked, eyes never leaving him. Chuckling, he let out a sigh before moving his free hand down to my waist.

"I should have tortured him more. He deserved it." His fingers danced around the bruise on my stomach, light touches almost making me shiver.

"It doesn't matter now." Still, I could see it was bothering him.

"He was never a good boyfriend, even before the really bad times." The master never stopped his hand from moving, giving me full attention.

"How so?"

"He never showed me love. I could never hold his hand, or hug him. He never kissed me. I was just an accessory to him." I explained, frowning at the memory.

"Over a year of neglect. Maybe that's all I'm worth." Immediately, the master whipped his head to look me right in the eyes. It almost made me flinch.

"Absolutely not. That man was an absolute idiot. A waste of space." He seethed, inhaling sharply afterwards.

"I would never treat you like that. I would never let you go. I'd-" We both froze as he slowly realised the weight of the words he just spoke.

"I mean. Hypothetically." The master slightly stuttered. My mouth was parted, blinking in the informed.

"I would treat you better anyone. Because that's what you deserve." A smile grew on my lips, listening as the; usually calm male, fumbled with his words.

"Not that you would be interested. Now or ever. But I'm just-" Giggling, I kneeled up, gripping his collar and pressing his lips against mine. Initially surprised, the master held onto my waist and melted into the kiss soon after. Pulling back, I was taken aback when the male pulled me into his chest. My head rested against his shoulder comfortably.

"If I'd have known that the feeling was mutual, I'd have taken you away from him much sooner." The master stroked the top of my hair, pressing a kiss to my temple lovingly. Simpering, I nuzzled in closer.

"You're here now. That's all that matters." And that was the truth. From then on, everything would get better. As long as he was by my side.

#doctor who #doctor who x y/n #dhawan master x reader #dhawan!master #sacha dhawan #dh!master

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oswildin · 2 years

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What if you were Dhawan!Masters companion?

Dhawan!Master x Companion!Reader Headcannons

Includes:

Dealing with this temper tantrums. If something doesn’t go to plan, you always know what to expect. Things flying, crashing, shouting… Sometimes it would only last a few minutes with other times being hours, including him sulking and shutting himself away

“Are you quite done?” or “Better now?” or “Mr Grumpy” would be the words you’d first speak after he was finished

Having to stop him when he goes too far, just like how Donna had to do with The Doctor.

Not putting up with his shit. You knew what you were getting into, but if for a second he thought you couldn’t handle yourself against him, he was wrong.

Him secretly enjoying your company & having a massive soft spot for you. Though he’d never admit it

He’d steal things for you from the different places you went. You have a whole draw full of knick knacks of stuff.

Arguments. As I said, you didn’t put up with his shit, which meant arguments. He kind of enjoys them though. It was weirdly nice to have someone around who challenged him.

Him threatening to leave you stranded on an alien planet and you nonchalantly saying ‘do it then’, to which he would pretend to leave and come back 5 minutes later

“Don’t say a word.” “Wasn’t planning to.”

Soft moments. Him ensuring your safety on adventures. Constantly keeping a subtle eye on you, prepared to jump into action if needs be

Finding you staring at him as he thought aloud, a small smirk on your lips as you watched him ramble on to himself

Him threatening anyone or anything that dared to harm you.

“Don’t even think about touching a hair on their head.”

Him using ‘love’, ‘dear’ or ‘darling’ when he speaks to you (in any situation, when you’re arguing and he’s trying to be sassy or when he’s lecturing you or when he’s explaining something)

“Are you even listening, love?” “Dear, what did I just say?”

The occasional touching. Whether it’s a hug, a hand hold or even a hand on the cheek. It happened rarely, but when it did it was a very soft moment between the two of you.

Unsaid feelings. MASSIVE UNSAID FEELINGS.

The Master would never let himself be vulnerable with you. At least not in a romantic way. He couldn’t bare the thought of being rejected. Or even the thought of allowing himself the pleasure of some happiness.

Of course a tragic end. I’m sorry. But travelling with the Master would always end this way.

With you gone, he had no reason to stay ‘good’. Vowing to destroy planets and worlds all because of his anger from losing you.

Not caring for himself or his own safety.

But still having those moments of regrets, sadness and even happiness as he reminisced about your times together.

Vowing to never allow himself another companion.

#dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #Dhawan master x reader #doctor who imagine #doctor who #doctor who headcannons #Dhawan master #the master x reader #the master #the master imagine #sacha dhawan

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zyalahmiscfandom · 2 years

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An Unexpected Trip: Dhawan!Master x f!reader pt1

AN: This is total canon divergence. 13 didn’t regenerate and Yaz is still her companion (pls let me have this, I’m not ready to let go of them). Can be read as a stand alone story but goes better with my previous Master x Reader here.

MASTERLIST

You sat on the hexagonal steps of the TARDIS. The blues and reds of the lights mixing to create a beautiful purple hue. A light mist swept across your ankles, and a small smile spread across your lips as you watched the Master dance around the controls, even though you weren’t going anywhere exciting, he always piloted as if you were. It was one of the million reasons you loved him and the life he had gifted you.

“You don’t need to flatter me anymore dear,” The Master stopped and turned to you, “I’ve already agreed to your little trip idea.”

You blinked confused for a moment, before you remembered. He was bloody telepathic.

“Ugh Master, you promised not to do that.” You fake moaned, standing to join him at the centre console.

“Then don’t think so loud.” He booped the end of your nose, his tone only semi-chastising.

“Sorry, I can’t help it, I’m excited.” You started to buzz.

“Mmm I can tell pet.” He smirked turning back to the controls again. “All this for a silly little human play.”

“Opera.” You corrected. He stopped again, raising an eyebrow at your boldness. You knew that if anyone else had tried sass-back at him, they would be dead. With you however he found it adorably endearing.

“And besides it’s not just any opera,” You sauntered up to him, your eyes big,”It’s THE phantom of the Opera. The second longest running west end musical!”

“I know, you’ve told me before.” Annoyance started to creep into the Master’s voice. “Several times. In the past week alone. Hence why YOU’RE going.”

“And I am ssooooo, grateful for that,” You cuddled up to his arm, giving him your best puppy dog look. “Buuut, I thought it’d be nice if you came with me.”

You had tried for weeks to get the Master to agree to see Phantom with you. You’d gushed about the characters, the music, the set design, and how much you simply adored the show. When that didn’t work you’d talked about how the original book was inspired by true events, but that had just led to him suggesting you both go and drop the real chandelier at the Paris Opera house in 1896 instead. After a while you realised that asking the Master to sit silently in the exact same place for almost three hours was never going to fly, so you had acquiesced. Mostly.

“Pet…” The Master warned. “I told you,”

“I know, I know.” You sighed letting go of his dark blue tweed clothed arm in defeat. “I’m just playing. When the Master says no, he means it.” You turned to walk back to your seat on the steps but before you could the Master caught your face between one strong hand.

“Tsk, tsk.” He stared deep into your eyes. “Darling don’t you know it’s suicide to mock your Master.” Though his words sounded serious, the mischievous glint in his eyes told you there was no real maliciousness to them. One of the first things the Master had promised you was that he’d never intentionally hurt you, unless you asked him to.

“No mocking,” You said through puckered cheeks, “Just wanted to have a normal trip with you for once.” You admitted.

He chuckled to himself, before letting you go, and pulling on the TARDIS break, jutting you both forward in the sudden stop.

“What about the beach on Doulcabis?” He countered.

“Oh yeah that was nice and normal, until the planetary army started bombarding us.”

“How was I supposed to know the Queen mother still held a grudge against me.”

“You stole her crown jewels and threw them into a black hole!” You laughed, amazed at his declaration that that trip still counted as a normal one.

“Hence why I’m letting you go to that silly little play of yours.” He motioned to the door. Clearly you were at your destination. “Now say thank you Master.”

You sighed, you knew it was foolish to try and trick the Master of all people into a real human date. Hell you weren't even sure you were dating.

“Thank you Master.” You smiled, giving his cheek a quick peck. Something you were only permitted to do in the TARDIS. “I’ll see you in three hours.”

“Try to have fun with out me.” He challenged.

“Try not to commit any war crimes without me.” You laughed back.

“Spoil sport.”

You gave him one small wave before exiting through the TARDIS’s fake wooden doors.

“Keep him safe T.” You asked the time machine as you stoked the HA HA plaque on the front door. A quiet hum churned out of the wooden facade and for the first time since you met the Master you walked away from the machine alone.

The Master had dropped you off a short walk away from the theatre. The distance was nothing compared to how much you seemed to run on a daily basis, but without him by your side it seemed so much farther than it was, and so much more lonely.

“Three seconds without the Master and I’m a complete mess.” You bemoaned to yourself, grateful that the Master couldn’t hear you now, because he’d never let you hear the end of it.

“Y/N?” An old familiar voice called from behind you. Confused you turned to meet the gaze of an older gentleman. It took you a second before you remembered, he was with the Doctor on your failed trip to the SS.Fairfax. You hadn’t seen him or the Doctor since.

“Graham?” You asked unsure. “Or was it Ryan? I didn’t really catch your name.”

“Oh uh it’s Graham.” He smiled gently, the older woman next to him, in a pinstriped suit and combat boots however seemed cautious. “And this is Ace.”

“Hi.” You smiled politely. Unsure of where this was going. “Um, I don’t mean to sound rude, but I kind of have a thing I’m meant to be doing, soooo…”

“Did the Professor send you to do something?” Ace perked up.

“The who?”

“She means the Doctor.” Graham answered. “And no Ace she’s not here for the Doc, Y/N’s with someone else.” The older man gingerly danced around the truth of your Time Lord companion.

“Who else would she be with?” Ace awkwardly laughed, “Not a lot of Time Lords out there with companions.”

“Maybe some of them have changed.” You unintentionally sassed back. You didn’t mean to be rude it was just from the Master’s stories it seemed there were several former companions of the Doctor who had been on his kill list, and you figured they probably wouldn’t believe you if you said he’d changed for the better.

“Not bloody likely.” Ace scoffed. “So if you’re not with the Professor, who dropped you off?”

“Uhhhh.” You blanched. You did not want to get into it in the middle of a busy London street, but your brain seemed to have broken. “Sorry, I’ve really go to go. I’m going to be late.”

You started to back away, waving awkwardly as you did.

“It was nice to meet you Ace, and Graham, always a pleasure. Bye.” You practically sprinted down the street, faintly hearing Ace yell after you.

You turned the corner and into a small alleyway, stopping to catch your breath against a brick wall. Checking your phone you saw you had five minutes to reach the theatre and it was still a ten minute walk. Would the theatre let you in if you were five minutes late? You had gotten so used to the Master demanding your entrance to places and getting in, even when you weren't invited. You really were spoiled by the Master weren’t you.

Sighing you composed yourself as best you could, you couldn’t deny that the encounter with former Doctor companions had knocked the wind out of your sails a bit. You loved the Master, you really did, but you sometimes wished his name didn’t evoke hatred and/or fear from everyone who heard it.

A part of you wanted to call the Master, have him come pick you up and never suggest normal trips ever again, but after the stink you’d kicked up to go see this opera, you’d feel bad about cancelling.

“Urgh, big girl time Y/N” You hyped yourself up, “We are a grown ass adult, we are not co-dependant!” You announced to yourself, only believing it a little. Straighting up you turned to head back out to the street, however a less than impressed Ace blocked the narrow entrance.

“I know whose TARDIS that was.”

“I’m sorry Y/N,” Graham emerged from behind the older woman, “But this is for your own good.”

“Fuck.”

*****

The Master’s knee bounced impatiently as he sat in the uncomfortable chair the humans had installed in their opera box. He was losing patience with this whole farce and he’d been here for only two minutes.

“Height of luxury ha!” He laughed aloud, looking back at the TARDIS he’d landed in the far corner of the box he’d secured for his Y/N. The only reason he saw fit to degrade himself and wait in this theatre was the surprised look on his darling pets face when she walked in and saw him waiting for her.

He imagined her eyes glittering and her perfect smile bursting across her face. She would become putty in his very capable hands, and he would prove again how he was the better Time-Lord and companion.

‘The Doctor could never make her as happy as I do.’ He thought possessively to himself. Y/N had told him several times that there was no competition between himself and the Doctor. That he didn’t need to be so hard on himself. She didn’t want the Doctor she wanted to be with him, yada yada, and yes he believed her, she couldn’t lie to him, no-one could, but still there was that horrid tiny voice in the back of his mind that told him he wasn’t good enough. Not for the Doctor and definitely not for Y/N, and he never would be.

“Where is she.” He growled, his jittering leg becoming more restless by the second. “She should be here by now, praising my kindness, shooing my dark thoughts away.” He scratched painfully into his palm, a terrible self soothing action he thought he’d outgrown.

Dark thoughts started swirling dangerously around his mind. What if she’d left? What if she’d run away? But she promised forever. She lied. She hated you. She was afraid of you and ran way the first chance she got. This whole playthinghadbeenAndExcusetoEscAPEYOU!!!

“Shut Up!” He slammed his fists against his head, if he couldn’t will the thoughts away he’d beat them out of himself.

A deep sound rang out from the TARDIS, pulling the Master out of his self-hate spiral, curious he entered the machine.

“What?!” He yelled. Another deep sound was the reply, soon the monitor lit up, showing CCTV of a boring London street. “Get to the point.” He chastised. The video sped up, showing a panicked looking Y/N hurry down a alley way, before being followed by two others.

“Y/N.” His brown doe eyes widened in horror as the video sped up again. Showing armed men enter the alley, before exciting with a clearly unconscious Y/N, and the two who had initially followed his beloved human.

“Dorothy and Graham.” His voice was laced with venom as he watched the Doctors former companions. “What am I going to do with you?”

#doctor who #dhawan!master #the master #dhawan!master x reader #the master x reader #sacha dhawan #doctor who ace #doctor who au #canon divergence #reader insert #master x reader

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sleep-i-ness · 5 months

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I Know (Dhawan!Master x Reader, Thirteen x Reader)

Part 6 of 'Shackled' Masterlist | Previous Part

Alone. Endlessly isolate, stuck in a silent solitude, imposed by a madman who knew the way loneliness saturated into weary bones. Silence held words too quiet to hold immediate weight, a slow enemy, but the years wore sores, whispers worming into the brain. The universe's discordancies had melded together, swirling, enrapturing in this new silence. Solitude would drive you mad, the only company your thoughts.

But you knew that. And he hated the power it had imbued you with.

The roar of his rage still rang in your ears. Alone. But not quite. That red pulsing fury had ebbed, seeping out of you and leaving you so numb. Simple, fickle, human emotions so empty, pale, meaningless in comparison.

Sickening.

It listened. It whispered in your mind, trying desperately to destroy the rebellious thoughts that welled up against its dam of control. The river had grown too strong, the words rushing up against it, overpowering.

He still couldn't leave you alone.

Obsessive, manic, desperate to return you to the dull, droopy peace that had settled into your bones. He couldn't control you anymore. Nothing worked. You'd been through it before. And now you understood.

He hated it.

Thinking of me? Still? How... pitiful.

Derisive, mocking, cruel. Almost laughable. You smothered a smirk, resting your head against the cool metal of the dingy cell.

He had lost.

I don't lose.

But despite the protests in your mind, you laughed. How could he ever expect to win now?

ALL

@underratedhotties @mxacegrey

SHACKLED

@startrekkingaroundasgard @queerconfusionthings

Dhawan!Master

@kjaneway1

13th Doctor

@better-dead-than-smeg @fromflametofire @Natalia-Helena-alianova-romanov @ghostlystudentpersonasludge @wewaitinthatspace @Sylumarts @gurkiloni @trying414 @meandthebirdss @averyisbackinthetrashcan

#dhawan!master x you #dhawan!master imagine #dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #sacha dhawan #doctor who #doctor who imagine #thirteenth x reader #thirteenth doctor x you #thirteenth doctor x reader #thirteen x you #thirteen x reader #thirteenth doctor #doctor who x reader

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allzelemonz · 2 years

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Wrong Door: The Master X Male Reader

Prompt: Tropesgiving Day 1: Enemies to Lovers Pronouns: He/Him Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Moderate Themes Warnings: Canon typical violence, double meaning/implied future intimacy, background Yaz/Doctor, Dhawan Master Summary: The Doctor responds to a distress signal and meets an unexpected enemy with the intention of hurting her and the fam. When everyone’s plans are ruined, a certain Timelord has to improvise.

When the Doctor first came to you, you never imagined leaving.

Through every Dalek, every Cyberman, even every creepy Weeping Angel, the Doctor protected you and made sure there was still some fun while doing it. The TARDIS quickly became your home, the Doctor quickly became your friend. Yaz, Dan, everyone that joined the Doctor made for a good family.

But this adventure is throwing things all out of whack.

First there’s a distress signal that appears Dalek. Then there’s a horde of Cybermen. Now there’s an Angel. An angel on a screen that you can’t find the remote to and an Angel just outside of the door that Dan can’t take his eyes off of to help you. You’ve both called for the Doctor, but she’s busy with Yaz and the Cybermen.

Your hand moves across the surfaces around you, trying to feel anything that seems like a remote. There’s endless papers, books, random boxes, but no remote. You hear a swoosh and the sound of Dan taking a step back. You have to resist the urge to look back at him.

“Can you get the door controls?” You ask.

“I think they’re on the wall, but I can’t look at them.”

You take a shaky breath and try to feel for the remote again. Just as your fingers reach the end of the table you hear a mechanism click. There’s a breeze behind you and Dan shouts before a solid slam echoes around you. The urge to turn your head is stronger than ever, but you resist. Instead you step back until your hand rests on what feels like a metal wall. A wall separating you and your friend. A wall pitting you both alone against an Angel.

Before you can get you hand back on the table to feel for the remote you hear a somewhat familiar buzzing. Not quite the screwdriver you know, but it’s definitely something sonic. The Angel on the screen flickers a few times before going black. Your eyes stay fixed, still unblinking, unsure if the Angel will return.

“Aren’t you going to thank me?”

His is not the kind of voice you forget. Not after what you’ve seen him do. Your eyes finally blink as you take another shaky breath. When they open, you have the will to move them to a little nook where you’re sure he transported in. His smug face makes things clear. He faked the signa;. He brought the Cybermen. He planted the Weeping Angels. He dropped the wall between you and Dan. He brought you all here to do who knows what. Something sick and twisted cooked up in his evil mind just for the Doctor. Just to see her and the people she loves suffer.

He makes an expecting face, waiting for his thanks. You keep a steady glare aimed at him instead. The resting look of a monster returns over his features. The playful Master is gone and you’ve brought out the monster.

“I thought the Doctor and her precious fam were supposed to be all fun and happy.”

Your gaze doesn't waver as he stands. His apathetic way of walking is so different from the Doctor’s. She always has a purpose, even if it’s just to make someone smile. The Master walks as if he has nowhere to be, as if his plan isn’t unfolding perfectly as he plays with his food.

“Whatever you planned-”

“The Doctor will stop me,” He interrupts, moving closer to you. “won’t she?”

He whispers the question to you, close enough to make you shiver but not so close that you could push him away. Your glare meets his eyes for just a moment. Just long enough to see the fire in them that burns too bright for your liking.

“She will.”

That fire dies just a little. Just enough to bring a smug smile to your face. The Master seems annoyed by it, not just discouraged, annoyed. Without breaking your little staring contest, he points his sonic at the wall. It groans as it slides to make a doorway to a long, dark passage. He grabs your shirt collar, pulling you close and dragging you to the open wall.

“Well,” He sneers. “Let's see her save you from them.”

With a swift shove he throws you through the door. Before you can run back at him, the wall slides shut as he points his sonic to it and gives you a cheeky final wave with a smirk. You’re not entirely sure if you’re relieved to be rid of him or not. The way he said ‘them’ puts an air of hesitation to your movements. You decide not to play his little game. Whatever is waiting for you at the end of this tunnel is not something you’re willing to walk into.

However, the Master has other plans. You hear a mechanism click behind you and the wall behind you begins to move. You try to dig your feet in and stay put, but the wall only pushes you forward. You’re no match. The end of the tunnel brings some light, but the sounds that accompany it are worse than the dark.

The sounds of Daleks.

As the wall grinds to a loud stop every single eyestalk looks up at you. The cavern is full of hundreds of Daleks. In the middle is a large device, clearly Dalek technology, that whirs with a purpose. The Daleks begin to clamor, various ‘Exterminates’ and orders overlap each other.

“He is an associate of the Doctor, he will be captured and interrogated!”

That order echoes around the chamber, silencing all of the others. Every Dalek returns to their duties, except for two that fly up to meet you. The last thing you see is their glowing blue eyestalks closing in before things fade to black.

It’s the voice of the Doctor that wakes you. That weird sensation when the voice is in the dream until it pulls out to the reality outside. The Doctor’s voice, then the sound to the Daleks and the Cybermen, then someone’s pulling you up from the ground. You blink your senses back to see Yaz and Dan at your sides. The Doctor is ahead of you, giving one of her great speeches when she turns on a dime, aiming her sonic screwdriver at a large, seemingly important, console. Sparks fly out of it and the cavernous room goes pitch black. Yaz and Dan pull you along a pre-established path with the Doctor close behind.

The TARDIS is in sight.

Then he steps out.

The Master comes around the side of the TARDIS, a delighted look on his face as he runs his hand along the false wood finish of the big, blue box.

“Doctor,” His smile grows as he says her name. “I expected more of a fight, not a retreat.”

“I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone here.” The Doctor’s words are full of frustration layered just under the surface.

And the Master’s chuckle is all the more unsettling, “Dear Doctor, you won’t-“

The blaring sound of an alarm cuts him off. The lights around you darken and an emergency lighting with a red hue replaces them. Even in the dim lighting, the look of confusion is clear on the Master’s face. This isn’t his doing.

An echoing boom precedes the announcement of the saboteurs, “All inhabitants will yield to the glory of the Sontaran Empire!”

The Master exclaims in frustration and his foot stomps as he starts his tantrum, but the sound is lost to the growing echoes of marching Sontaran forces. At your side, Yaz begins to take steps backwards. Her hand grips your am, pulling you with her. In turn, you pull Dan along as well. The Doctor doesn’t move until they come into view— nearly a hundred of them in lines to form a large and imposing company.

The Doctor runs to the three of you and takes Yaz’s hand. You and Dan join her in a run and it isn’t long before you can hear the Master running behind you.

“Please tell me you’ve got a TARDIS!” The Doctor shouts back to him.

“I might.” He replies, keeping his snark even as the Sontarans begin to fire at his head.

“Oh, just tell us where the bloody thing is!” Dan shouts as he ducks under the blasts, his tall stature betraying him.

“Left!” The Master shouts, his pace now matching yours and Dan’s.

The Doctor veers left, pulling Yaz with her. The three of you follow suit. As the Master gives out directions he corridors only grow louder as the Dales and Cybermen join the fight. Just before you’re about to turn the next corner you’re pulled to the side.

Dan is the first to notice that the Master has grabbed you. The crazed Timelord holds a weapon to your head and backs into the shadows before the Doctor can see you taken. You fight against his grip on your arm, but he quickly reminds you of the weapon aimed at your head. He leads you to his TARDIS, tucked away from where he had been leading the Doctor.

He pushes you inside, closing the door behind him before turning to you, “If you even think of trying to get back to your precious Doctor, I’ll kill you in front of her.”

His intense glare makes you nod. He moves to the TARDIS console and works the controls, saving you both from the merciless enemies of the Doctor. You land with a thud and the Master runs to the door. You follow him, peering outside to see the Dalek chamber, now deserted. The Master rushes to a control console and aims a sonic device at it. As the familiar buzz fills the room you step outside, your eyes grazing over the large room that had been crawling with Daleks only a few minutes ago.

“What was your plan?”

Your question marks him pause, banging his fist on the console in frustration, “The TARDIS, I wanted the TARDIS.”

“Why’d you keep me alive?” You paused for a moment, “Twice.”

He lets a smile form on his face as he chuckles. “The first time, I needed the Doctor to find the Daleks. And I know she’d never leave one of her precious companions behind.” He spits the words precious companions as if they’re a venom invading his mouth.

“And now? Why am I here?”

He chuckles again, “Because I think your death might hurt her the most.”

“Yaz is the one she’s in love with.”

“Yes, yes, but you haven’t been with her too long.” He straightens up and pulls his sonic away from the console. “Long enough to bond, short enough to devastate.”

“Dan hasn’t been with us that long either.” You challenge, “Why not him?”

“Because I don’t like him.” The Master sighs like a child.

“But you like me?”

“I didn’t think you would be asked so many questions.”

“Just one more.”

He groans, “Fine, but then I want you absolutely silent.”

“Okay.” Your mind filters through the different questions you could ask. Maybe there’s something you could learn to help the Doctor, but your last question hangs in the air with an irritating level of unanswer. “Do you, let’s say, not despise me?”

He giggles, not a chuckle this time, but a giddy giggle as he steps closer to you. “I find you delightfully irritating.”

His breath hits your ear due to his proximity and he gives you a smile before he walks past you and opens the door to his TARDIS, gesturing for you to enter. With a skeptical look you follow his passive order. He dances around the controls with much more elegance than the Doctor ever could. When you land again, he rushes to the door with an eerie excitement.

When you follow him out you find the Doctor, Yaz, and Dan by the TARDIS, no Sontarans in sight. Their faces light up when you step out, Yaz takes a step towards you but the Doctor stops her. Both of their eyes move to the Master’s hand where he holds the same weapon he had held to your head before.

“What was I saying before we were so rudely interrupted?” The Master ponders. “Oh, of course,” He sneers, “you can’t save everyone.”

He levels the weapon at your head and both Yaz and Dan cry out, but the Master silences them with a sharp jab to draw their attention back to the weapon.

“He has nothing to do with this, let him go.” The Doctor’s voice sounds calm on the surface, but there is that fiery rage just underneath.

“I have a better idea.” The Master lowers his weapon and steps behind you, a hand on your shoulder and his face close to your ear. “Let’s have him make a choice. The Doctor or the Master!”

“This is ridiculous, come on, man!” Dan waves his hand for you to walk forward.

“Stay with me and I’ll show you things she never would.”

The Master whispers in your ear and it nullifies the shouting of your friends. The devil-on-your-shoulder temptation is quite literally deafening.

“With her goody-goody self righteousness, she’ll never show you all of the juicy bits.” His hand tightens on your shoulder. “But I will. I’ll show you whatever you want.”

There’s a brief shout from Yaz that breaks through about how you shouldn’t listen to him, that he’s lying and he’s evil. But your mind is already racing with the possibilities, all of the things the Doctor would never let you do because of the danger or the morality or the rules of time.

“Forbidden is just a word, my dear.”

The Master’s final whisper echoes through every crevice in your brain as he backs away and his hand opens the TARDIS door behind him. The fam’s shouts grow louder now that he has left your side. You can hear them again, telling you to run, but your feet have made up their minds. It isn’t until you're standing in front of him that your head has caught up and agreed. The Master’s hand comes up to trace your jawline as a smile spreads over his face.

“We’re going to have so much fun!”

The fire in his eyes pushes his double meaning, neither one being something you would ever object to. Without looking back at your dear friends, you step into the wrong door.

#doctor who #the master #sacha dhawan #dhawan master #doctor who x reader #the master x reader #dhawan master x reader #doctor who x male reader #the master x male reader #dhawan master x male reader #x reader #x male reader #tropesgiving

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sessa23 · 2 years

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Control: The Power of The Doctor story (Part 1)

(This story will be released in a number of parts, it's quite long but I hope you enjoy part one.)

(Summary: The Master is back (shocker) with his plan to erase the Doctor but what exactly is his plan. How does everything connect. His arrival has also brought back memories and rekindled feelings. Who is in control?"

(Warnings:Mentions of guns, the Master being a jerk. Flirting? Insults/burns, Mentions of Swarm, Azure and Weeping Angels.)

Your heart skipped a beat, as the video still ran though your mind.the master was alive but why was he suddenly appearing now. Why was he posing as a seismologist. You figured that he had some kind of plan up his sleeve "Y/N" The doctor's voice called breaking you from your thoughts "we have to go."

"Coming" You called out as you began to leave, while doing so you heard Tegan mention something to Ace about the Doctor sending her a Russian doll of a cyberman. You thought that was odd but didn't have time to question her about it.

The three of you soon arrived in Hotel, you walked into the lecture hall where the master said that he was. The two of you hadn't spoken for nearly two years, The Doctor and Yaz walked into the lecture room as you held back for a moment

In the last two years, you had battled many enemies, other than the master. The ones that scared you the most were the Weeping Angels, the love child of Red Skull and Lord Voldermort (A.K.A Swarm) and his sister Azure. You took a deep breath before you walked in.

The master's eyes lit uo as he saw you "Y/N, looking as ravishing as ever." You crossed your arms "Last time I saw you, you tried to kill us, where are we at now?" A grin came on his face "It varies from moment to moment." He replied as he winked at you. He spoke again "Tell me, do you still have that fire?" Sighing as you spoke "Who wants to know?" You asked "The only man in your life." He began to walk up to you "Aww, you wouldn't be in my life if you were the only man left on the planet"

"Stick and stones Y/N" He replied as he came closer to you "Describing your breakfast?" The master chuckled as he stepped away from you "Nice to see that you haven't changed. I was just warning The Doctor to leave earth or it would be the death of her."

"What's makes you think that this plan of yours will be any different to the other times that you've been beaten? The doctor asked "Because this isn't just the day that you die doctor." The master came closer to his frenemy "This is the day that you are erased, forever." You looked at yaz with a look of concern. There was a moment of silence before the master spoke again "bit of a conversation stopper isn't it?"

The master pranced over to you and Yaz "You see how clever I am Y/N, I've warned the Doctor about what will happen if she doesn't leave earth. The three of us know that she can't leave, not without stopping me but yet she know that I mean what I say. I can absolutely positively tell you that this is not an empty threat at all."

Just then the doors burst open, the UNIT soldiers came in with their guns aimed at the master. "Oh, oh! You brought soldiers! Are these for me? Oh, you shouldn't have. Is this rendition? I've always wanted to be renditioned. Or is it rendered?"

A soldier held the master as another one put him in handcuffs "Ooh, gentle, gentle, gentle, boys! Am I going to UNIT? I really really hope I'm going to UNIT." The master's comments made you suspicious "You're awfully in a good mood for someone who is being arrested." You quipped

"Give Yaz and Y/N" a gun" the Doctor ordered, you and Yaz looked at the Doctor "what?" You both asked "Cover him. We're going to take him in the TARDIS. Take the gun". The master then spoke "oooh she must be worried. she doesn't like guns." The two of you took the guns from the UNIT soldiers and aimed at the master

"Now Y/N love, do you even know how to use a gun" the master was tying to get in your head but you couldn't let him see that he was getting to you "Make one wrong move and you'll find out, babe." Your eyes widened as you realised what you said.

There was a moment of silence and looks of confusion bettween the soldiers before yaz broke the tension "Move!" At Yaz's words the soldiers began to escort the master to the TARDIS. "Thank you all very much for coming, do be careful with the bodies. Pass them onto their loved ones from me."

It was not long before you took off in the TARDIS, yaz had her gun aimed at the master. He was talking to her while everything was running though your mind, The paintings, the master, the missing seismologists,the cybermen and the death star knock off. However all your thoughts kept going back to the master, the moments that you had together while he was disguised as "o"

"I know you missed me." The master's voice echoed inside your mind, you ignored the smirk that he gave you, turning to face the Doctor "This has all been too easy, especially how he looked pleased to be going to UNIT. I have a bad feeling about all this." You whispered to the Doctor.

Once you all arrived at UNIT HQ, two guards came into the TARDIS. They grabbed the master, Yaz turned to you "you okay Y/N?" You nodded "yeah. I had a feeling I'd see him again but now that he's here...it's just brought a few things back. Ryan owes me £20, now that the master has returned"

Just then the Guards took the master out of the TARDIS, The Doctor, Yaz and yourself walked out, the walls were lined with UNIT guards as the master was lead down the corridor. "

"Put him in the bunker. Constant monitoring, full security detail." Kate spoke "Ooh yes, the bunker! That sounds nice! I love a bunker! Anyone want to join, we could have so much fun. Bunk-up in the bunker?" The master turned to Kate "Your dad was an idiot" The UNIT soldiers started to take the master down the corridor

Looking up as a smile appeared on his face "Oh, Tegan Jovanka. Tell me, how's your Auntie Vanessa? Do you keep her in a little doll's house?" The master said while putting on the worst Australian accent you had ever heard. Tegan's eyes narrowed "I'm going to enjoy watching you locked up in a tiny cell."

"Yes, go on you tell the big bad master." mocked the master before he looked at Ace "And you brought along Ace, or should I say Dorothy. Didn't the Doctor ditch you? No? Little fallout with your Machiavellian maestro?" You noticed the death stare that the doctor was giving the master

Ace gripped the railing "Last time I saw you, master, you were half cat" her voice dripping with venom A smirk appeared on the master's face "A man's allowed to experiment." Kate's eyes narrowed "Enough, take him away" Kate hissed

The master chucked "haha. Yes, yes, take me away! You'll all feel much safer then with me in the building." The doctor turned to her TARDIS "Oh you're not staying, Doctor? You're not going to leave them alone, are you... while you go Dalek hunting? Whoo" the master was cut off as the was pulled back into the elevator

"Well shit." A UNIT guard mumbled, you looked up at Tegan and Ace as they came down the stairs. Just then Kate got call, she turned to you "Y/N, you're needed downstairs please go down to the bunker." Kate looked at you "what?" You questioned. " A soldier handed you a different gun while Kate handed you a small device " the guards have said that they will feel safer. now please put this on before you enter. Do not let the master see it." You nodded as you concealed the device "what does it do?" Kate didn't answer your question "just do not let him see it"

You nodded as the two guards escorted you into the elevator "Ace, Tegan, I need you to stay here and monitor the Master, please also keep an eye on Y/N, make sure they're okay. We won't be long" the Doctor stated before the doors closed. You took a deep breath as the elevator took you to the basement.

#doctor who #bbc doctor who #13th doctor #dhawan!master #the master #thirteenth doctor #bbc the power of the doctor #the power of the doctor spoilers #the power of the doctor #the power of the doctor fic #dhawan!masterxreader #sacha dhawan #jodie whittaker #dhawan!master x reader #dh!master x reader #the master x reader #dhawan master x reader #doctor who spoilers #sessa20 fics

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thirtysomethingloser92 · 2 years

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Since Dhawan!Master has been on my mind a suspicious amount lately, I might end up rewriting "Burnt" to have longer, more fulfilling chapters to it.

Let me know what you think!

#sacha dhawan #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan master #Doctor Who #Thirteen #reader insert

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wincheskka · 13 days

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Now I'm running with my dress unbuttoned Screaming "But Daddy (Doctor) I love him!" I'm having his baby No, I'm not, but you should see your faces I'm telling him to floor it through the fences No, I'm not coming to my senses I know he's crazy but he's the one I want

But Daddy I Love Him - Taylor Swift

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hieisdarkdragonchick · 6 months

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#hiei #dr. who #simm!master x reader #simm master #missy #sacha dhawan

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elf-punk · 1 month

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A Moment of Sympathy (Simm!Master x Reader)

Pairing: Simm!Master x Fem!Reader

Tales of red pastures, orange skies, and travels through time and space.

Chapter List Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Chapter Word Count: 2.5k

You walked through the alleyway in silence. You felt your mind being gently tugged along by the Master, who walked slightly ahead of you, muttering to himself and violently wringing his hands.

“He can smell me, the stink, the filthy stink…no, no, no…”

His hood was pulled back up over his head, hiding the tufts of dirty blond hair and making him indistinguishable from his shadowy surroundings once again. His very visible and jerky movements were the only evidence of his materiality. Gazing at his wiry frame as he walked, you registered a panicked and erratic gait. He walked like broken clockwork, with hunched over shoulders and legs moving independently of his body. He was incomplete, somehow. Unfinished.

“Hurry up,” he called over his shoulder. “Or you’ll be dinner.”

You picked up the pace, not keen to get on his bad side again.

“Where are we going?”

He stopped dead in his tracks and whipped his head around.

“You tell me!” He spat.

You blinked and dryly opened your mouth, your speech lost. How could you know anything?

Your silence only enraged him further, and a dark look contorted his face.

“If you don’t have any ideas, I’ll have to take them from you.”

Vague mutters of useless and should have killed you fell from his mouth as he stomped towards you. He forcefully placed his free hand at the crown of your head, and closed his eyes.

What followed wasn’t strictly speaking pain but an acute discomfort of something sinking into your mind and crawling around; opening doors you preferred to keep closed, and making a home in your deepest and most tidily locked-away memories.

You scrunched your eyes shut as your assailant wove his way through your neural highway. He treated each bit of information as a stone to be turned over, cursorily inspected, and immediately cast aside. You could feel the Master deciding which of your mental activities were and weren’t interesting. His faint interest thrummed and simmered within your skull. You felt amusement bubble up—his, not yours—at a memory of vomiting in the ballpit at someone’s fifth birthday, and twisted pride at your decision three years ago to tick the little square box labelled Saxon at the local polling station.

New images began to form in your mind’s eye, memories that weren’t your own. Sharp vignettes revealed orange skies, mountains that reached into eternity, humanoids dressed in robes of deep burgundy and ornate headpieces. And at the center, a young boy stared terrified into eternity. Then the image changed—the innocent boy morphed into a man with manic eyes and a twisted grin, and then another man, then a woman, and then another.

So many lives this Master had lived. All dripping in blood and death.

Faces began to flick through your inner vision to a hypnotic rhythm—a rhythm of four—one, two, three four. One, two, three, four. It grew louder, a deep thumping of layered heartbeats that enveloped your own.

You could feel the Master growing alarmed with your expedition into his thoughts, feeling a sense that this shouldn’t have happened. The soft haze of his hypnotism intensified and he sank further into your consciousness, rabidly, desperately searching. Just as you felt your mind slipping away into the bottomless pit that was his own, everything stopped. Razor-sharp focus converged on an unusual concept, but ultimately one you should have known would pique his interest: Chicken Cottage.

Like water hurtling down a drain, he withdrew.

At his absence, you resisted the urge to violently throw up and pass out. Lucidity slowly came to you as the shocks and shivers spreading through your grey matter dulled. Feeling somewhat debased, you realised that he had looked for a place to eat using your memories as his own personal search engine. He had converged on a chicken shop on Kemble Avenue, not too far from your office complex; a place you’d frequent whenever the workload got too intense.

“We’re going there,” he hissed.

You nodded, simultaneously reeling from the experience of having your brain turned inside out and sedated by his hypnotic influence.

If you came out of this with a single neuron left intact, you would officially start going to church.

His lips curled upwards before he streaked off towards the faint glow of the main road. Not keen to lose him in the dark, you set a light jog towards Kemble Avenue, and checked your watch for good measure. 1AM. Not an issue for your new friend, since Chicken Cottage was an all-night establishment. After ten minutes or so of a blended power walk and jog, you turned the corner.

The Master was standing by the gaudy chicken shop facade with his arms folded and head bowed. At the sound of your footsteps, he roused.

You gestured at the door, confused as to why he didn’t simply barge into the establishment, viciously murder the employees, and feast on the stock—and possibly the remains of the unlucky night shift workers—which judging by the traces of his memories lingering in your mind, was definitely on the table.

Chicken shop stick-up, you thought with a wry smile.

He scowled and shoved past you as he entered the restaurant with you mentally in tow. You entered, blinking away the sudden sting of the orange fluorescents.

“Do you have any money?” You asked without thinking.

The Master could’ve vaporised you on the spot for such disrespect.

“Right,” you breathed. “Guess it’s on me.”

You turned towards the slouching, oily-haired cashier who vacantly awaited your order.

“Five large boneless boxes,” you stammered, with a nervous side-glance at the Master.

He looked murderous.

“Ten,” you corrected, and he gave an approving nod, as if to confirm that you were temporarily safe from a painful death.

“Any sauces?” The cashier drawled, peering at you over thick, grease-lined spectacles.

“Five of each,” you breathed.

The boy stared at you gormlessly.

“Just do it!” You said shrilly, slamming an open hand down onto the counter. This kid was not ending up dead on your watch. To your relief, a jolt appeared to pass through him and he muttered an “Okay, calm down” as he busily prepared your order. The Master smirked, enjoying your aggression.

The boy couldn’t know who or what the Master truly was, but did he need to? You could see the nervousness in his shaky movements, and the way his eyes routinely flicked back and forth between the Master and the stove in front of him. Shaky hands lifted a rack of chicken from the sizzling oil and tipped them into ten empty boxes with a practiced eye, before darting to the counter to retrieve five packs of Barbecue sauce, Ketchup, and Mayonnaise. Followed to the letter.

He bagged your order, and you quickly tapped your card against the reader, ignoring the irritation you felt at footing the £200 bill. The master jerked out a wiry hand and snatched the order from the boy before stalking over to a plastic table in the corner of the restaurant.

You sat opposite him, tight-lipped as he devoured the food. Stealing a look over at the counter, you could see the boy grimacing as the Master ripped flesh from bone with spindly fingers, and dropped the fried meat into his gaping mouth. An unholy smacking of his lips followed.

“So,” he began, mouth full. “What’s the deal with you?”

“What?” You responded.

He rolled his eyes and made a theatrical gesture with his free hand as if to say Talk. I’m bored.

“Well,” you began bracingly. “I’m twenty-seven years old, and I work at-”

You stopped. An aggressive tugging sensation filled your mind. Truth was being pulled from you, whether you liked it or not.

“I hate my life.”

The Master nodded matter-of-factly.

“Understandable. This planet is a backwater shithole, after all.”

“It’s boring,” you mused. “I hate my job, and my friends are shallow. I’ve not seen my family in years and I have a partner, but I’m pretty sure they’re on their way out. The funny thing is, I don’t care. In fact, I’m relieved. The only thing I look forward to is getting blackout drunk on the weekend, but even that doesn’t do the trick because it’s back to the rat race on Monday morning.”

Words spilled from your lips in a passion of communication. You wished you could stop—you’d sew your lips shut if that’s what it took, but as his presence grew in your mind, you felt your thoughts doubling, quadrupling. The only way to stop the painful overflow was to talk.

“I’m not convinced that anyone would really care if I just disappeared tomorrow. You could kill me right now and the world would keep spinning—not that I want that, mind you,” you clarified at his widening grin. “I don’t like the thought of not existing. The idea of everyone going about their daily life when I’m gone disturbs me—they’ll eat chips, scroll TikTok, and keep living, and I’ll be gone.” you whispered, tears forming in your eyes.

In an uncharacteristic act of tenderness, he reached a hand out and swiped his thumb over your cheek, catching your brewing tears. You recoiled at whipcord speed.

“Poor human,” he crooned. “So caught up in your own minds.”

The artificial yellow lighting hit his face at a curious angle, revealing a disturbing depth of emotion in his eyes. The sudden change disturbed you. In your imagination, the bad guys were just bad guys. They didn’t have regrets, stories, or complex emotions, and they certainly weren’t beholden to tender gestures of comfort a mere hour after violently threatening to end your life.

“Who are you, really?” You pleaded, keen not to let the moment pass. You had seen images of red skies, carnal horrors, and wars raging across galaxies in his memory, but you wanted to hear it from his own mouth.

Conflict passed over the Master, as he decided whether vaporising you and the kid at the counter would be easier than what he was about to say.

For better or worse, he stilled his hand.

“You’ve seen into my memories,” he mused, stroking his chin. “It shouldn’t have happened—if I’d sent those visions to another human…”

“They wouldn’t survive?” You conjectured.

“No, no it wouldn’t kill them—unfortunately,” he added bitterly. “It would turn them into a drooling mess, though.”

You nodded, inwardly smiling at your good fortune.

“Have you ever stared at the sky, human? Sat atop a hill and watched the constellations?”

“Of course,” you replied. “I used to play this game with my friends—we were lost aliens stranded on this planet waiting for rescue.”

“Funny you say that. I am much the same.”

His voice took on a wistful quality as he gazed past you.

“If you were to go outside now, look up at the sky, and turn your head northwards, you would see the Andromeda galaxy, yes?”

You nodded, though it had been years since high school astronomy.

“That’s about 2 million light years away. If you traveled in the same direction for another 250, you would reach the constellation of Kasterberous, and within that, a binary star system,” he stopped for a moment, and eyed you. “That’s when two stars orbit one another.”

“I know what a binary star is.”

The Master ignored you.

“Within that system was a planet—undisturbed and unmatched for billions of years.”

“Gallifrey,” you whispered, drawing the alien word out of his memories.

“Gallifrey,” he confirmed. “The shining world of the seven systems.”

Mockery laced his voice. He shoved a handful of chips into his mouth and chewed obnoxiously, as if to break the illusion that the planet he described was deserving of reverence.

“Home of the time lords. Load of pompous idiots, really. Spent billions of years holding onto enough power to conquer the Universe ten times over, and never used it until it was too late.” His voice slipped into longing. “Mind you, Gallifrey really was stunning when the suns were in the right spot. Imagine a red sky drawing out into eternity, draping over mountains and oceans, and reflected in cresting waves. Beautiful, but a lie. The most beautiful lie.”

The mask of civility slipped, and rage and madness began to creep into his eyes again. You stayed silent. What could you say?

“Oh, but that was nothing,” he spoke dangerously. “I haven’t told you the best of all, the most wonderful and terrible thing. The beauty and horror. My first love, if you will.”

He smacked his lips manically, and began to violently rap his fingers against the table.

“That rhythm,” you whispered. “What is it?”

“It’s me, human. It’s everything I am and more.”

His presence in your mind had shown you only pieces of the jigsaw. Against your better judgement, you decided to press him.

“How long have you heard it?”

“For longer than you can possibly imagine. It came to me as a boy, when I gazed into the Untempered Schism, a little slight of a gap in space and time. Tiny, not large enough to cause any real damage—or so they thought,” he hissed bitterly.

“It went on day and night. I wailed and wailed, begged for my mother and father to listen. Screamed at the Imperial Physicians until my voice was hoarse, but…” he flicked a chicken bone away with spindly fingers. “Not one of them listened.”

He gazed at you avidly, unhealthily.

“Can you imagine that, human? A society of telepaths and hypnotists, and not a single one them able to hear the drums?”

“I thought I could hear them. Earlier, when you were in my head.”

“I was projecting them into your mind,” he said in curiously crestfallen tones. “You weren’t hearing them as I do, just a lesser faded copy. Convincing another of their existence is a lot harder, it would require making the sound tangible and identifying an organic source.”

You didn’t understand what he meant—the drums had sounded as clear as day in your mind, maddening and endless.

The Master lowered his eyes frustrated and downcast.

“You don’t understand what I mean. How could you?” He flicked his eyes upwards to meet yours and suddenly grabbed your wrist with a vice grip. Your eyes watered as you feebly attempted to pull away from the skeletal yet inhumanly strong hand crushing every tendon in your lower wrist. His grip intensified and you cried out a shaky wail.

“I am burdened with something too glorious for you to comprehend, human,” he growled, deep insanity rumbling through his voice.

And in an instant, the grip on your wrist released and the Master sprang to his feet. You saw a blur of movement as he streaked across the restaurant and out of the door with a shrill shattering of glass, and sickening crack. Your mouth opened in horror and a wail filled the restaurant as you saw the boy from behind the counter lying sprawled across a table with snapped neck.

All you felt was the soft, chilling winds of the early morning passing through the open door.

#the master #simm!master #simm!master x reader #doctor who #the master x reader #dhawan!master #missy #john simm #sacha dhawan #michelle gomez #dr who

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how-masterful · 2 years

Text

Remastered

Dhawan!Master x Reader

The Power of The Doctor - Part One

Summary: This is it. This is the day the Doctor dies. The plan is slowly falling into place, and the Master is ready for the show. UNIT and the Doctor have their questions, but the main ones are clear- What is he up to? What is going on in 1916 Russia? And why does nobody know where you are?

Notes: This is it! The big one! So big in fact, it has to go over 2 parts! The culmination of a month of daily fics, this remaster is the finale of my 31 fics of fright series (technically 32 now! Halloween part 2!). We were sufficiently fed with master content, and I was absolutely thrilled that it went out on my birthday! So enjoy part one of this remaster. My longest fic to date! As always, this is dedicated to @plethora-of-imagines. Enjoy the roast session, and wish me luck for part 2!

Warnings: Cannon typical violence, mentions of death

A knock came at the door to the cabin, the winter wind bellowing beyond the wooden walls. The woman glanced over towards the desk, her husband’s pen placed down delicately onto the parchment. She made her way to stand, hiking her skirts and placing a hand upon the shoulder of her lover.

“I’ll get it.” She said softly, before crossing over to the door. The latch opened easily, her eyes falling upon the soldier present at the door. The rosy cheeked military man gave a small bow of respect, her hand resting upon her hip, the winter chill biting at her nose. Removing his hat, he held it within his hands.

“Madam Praskovya,” He said. “I have been sent on a matter of urgency from the Tsarina. Is your husband home?”

The floor creaked beside you, the figure at the desk moving to stand. Footsteps made their way across the wooden boards, the man emerging to present himself at the door.

“Father Grigori, your presence is urgently required at the Winter Palace. The Tsaravich has been taken ill.”

The figure nodded quickly, turning his head to glance upon his wife.

“Fetch my cloak, my dear.” He said urgently, before blowing out the candle upon the desk.

“If we correlate the latest tremor detection data, with the aforementioned ground deformation measurements-”

The familiar voice from the conference hall grew louder as the Doctor and Yaz traversed down the corridor. The light bled into the wooden room from the doorway, the Doctor positioning herself as a shadow before the dark. Yaz stayed close behind, her teeth already on edge. She remembered, vividly though not fondly, what happened the last time she left the Doctor alone with the Master. That was a scenario she was keen to avoid this time, with more of the universe under her belt.

This Yaz was older and wiser than the one who had taken the first step onto Gallifrey. This woman had faced the Flux, travelled the world in the 1900’s, fought sword to sword with Sea Devils and beaten the Daleks to midnight. This Yaz had learned to fly the TARDIS. This Yasmin Khan was ready for anything. Yet despite her newfound confidence, a part of her still trembled at the sound of his voice. He was still the Master after all.

The Doctor showed no fear as she stood at the top of the staircase, her eyes falling to the pews filled with shrunken TCE victims. Yaz had tugged on the sleeve of her coat, her attention falling to the rest of the room. There were dozens of them, tiny figures lining the seats. The Master had killed them all.

It was then the Doctor realised the Master had stopped talking. Turning back to the podium she saw him leaning against the wood, a smug smirk on his face. The look was new, his messy hair now neatened and curled, face cleanly shaven. At least he hadn’t devolved into a full goatee like last time. He’d forgone the purple and dressed himself in a tweed jacket and colourful shirt, a pair of suspenders hung over his shoulders. The Doctor scoffed internally. If he’d added a bowtie, he’d have been the spit of her old self. She supposed the mockery was likely intentional.

From beyond his tortoise shell glasses The Master peered at the Doctor and Yaz, wiggling his fingers in a taunting wave. He pushed himself from the podium, swaggering to the front of the stage as he placed a hand on his hip.

“Do you like my seismologist collection? I think I've got the whole set now. First time I picked one up I swore to myself I wouldn't get addicted again, think of the storage space- But then I found out some of them were rare and you know me, such a completionist-”

“Is this just a ramble session or is there a point to your little breadcrumb trail?”

The Doctor said, copying the Master's pose from her position near the bottom of the steps. Yaz found her head bouncing between the pair like a game of tennis, shadowing just behind the Doctor. The Master scrunched his nose, crossing one foot over the other.

“Oh go on, what’ve you got so far?”

“Well, according to some you’re Rasputin, your cyber minions have stolen a quarunx, and all of a sudden there’s a second moon above 1916 Russia. Only it’s not a moon, it’s another planet. Made of metal. Wired up to a TARDIS. Do I get bingo if I say it’s one you made yourself?”

The Master nodded along, counting on his fingers sarcastically at each point, the Doctor stepping down a stair with each moment of emphasis. By now she was on the main floor, watching as the Master pulled the pair of glasses from his face and slid them into his top pocket.

“And do I get a full house if I figure out how it all fits together, or are you just going to explain it all to me with that smug look on your face?”

The Master smirked, hopping down from the stage and raising his hands in surrender.

“Be patient, we’ll get there eventually. By the way, hello to you too-”

“How did you escape Gallifrey? How are you still alive?”

The Master chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“How many times, Doctor- It’s almost like you’re still surprised. If you paid a little more attention to detail, maybe you would know. Speaking of-”

The Master turned to face Yaz, strolling past the Doctor to lean against the front row of pews. He made a good effort to bump her shoulder on the way, the Doctor rolling her eyes as he went.

“Travelling a little thin on the ground, aren't you, Doctor? No room in the TARDIS for the whole Brady Bunch? I get why you dropped the boring one, I could never remember his name anyway. No hard feelings Yaz, but I was hoping if at least one of you was going to stick around it would be Graham. But then again, no prizes for guessing why you lasted longest. She has a bit of a thing for earth girls.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” Yaz said, pushing back her shoulders and sending the Master a steely glare.

“Where’s yours? I thought she’d be sitting in the front row drawing love hearts around your name in a notebook. Don’t tell me you got dumped.”

The Master smirked, tilting his head and looking Yaz up and down.

“That shade of green doesn’t suit, Yaz. I know you were rather fond of O, but as a married man I cannot sanction all this flirting-”

“And I can’t sanction all this killing. Why?”

The Master sighed, turning to face the Doctor and moving off from the edge of the pew. The Doctor pulled her gaze from Yaz, the proud burst within her chest hardening into disdain as the Master stood inches from her face. The Masters expression softened, eyes melting from his devious glare into wide eyed innocence. For a moment the Doctor found herself back in Australia, staring at the face of a supposed friend. But the dark reality came seeping back at his words. By now her friends, both new and old, were long gone. This was all that remained of the pair of them.

“To give you a simple warning, Doctor. Leave earth, right now. Or it will be the death of you.”

“Why, finally going to make good on all those threats?”

“Because this is the day you are erased.”

“I’ve dealt with that before-”

“From existence,” The Master whispered. “Not just history. This, Doctor, is the day you die.”

The two Timelords stood before one another, almost daring each other to break away from each other's gazes. They were old eyes, each gaze burning with a thousand memories of the universe. Shared histories, crossed paths. Broken trust, broken hearts. The Doctor's cogs were turning in her brain at full throttle, trying to poke a single hole in the Master's exterior that would break open his entire facade. But there was no speck of dishonesty within the Masters hypnotic stare. That was the most worrying part of all.

Eventually, the Master broke the stand off with a melodramatic sigh.

“Wow, quite the conversation stopper. Bit awkward, right Yaz? You see-”

All the energy had returned to the Master's body, his feet dancing across the floor as he slid towards Yaz’s chest. Yaz grit her teeth together, letting her eyes shut as the Master brought his face close to her own. She could feel the villainy radiating off of him like a stench of evil. She’d learned how to sense this sort of thing. Memory always put a vile taste in her mouth. The Master was no exception.

“Now she’s stuck and doesn’t know what to do, because I've just been brilliant and made her second guess everything. She doesn’t want to leave, because she doesn’t trust a single thing I have to say, which quite frankly, my hearts doth break. But she ALSO knows she has to take it seriously, because when I make a threat, it’s no empty one. Scouts honour. Cross my broken hearts, hope to die- we have to hope, because we both know, that never tends to happen-”

The Masters maddened rambles were cut short by a commotion at the back of the room. The Master whipped around in a frenzy as the soldiers of UNIT began to filter into the room, the harsh clatter of police boots stomping down the stairs, every possible exit slamming open as the soldiers began to pour in. Yaz stepped to the Doctor's side and watched as the soldiers began to encircle the Master, the Timelord spinning in a circle not unlike a dog before it sat down. His eyes were busy with thought, his hands once more raised in surrender as the backup descended on their prey, the Master scrunching his nose at the Doctor and chuckling.

“Oh, you brought soldiers! Are these for me? You shouldn’t have!”

The Master spread his arms wide as the soldiers stomped their way onto the floor, finding himself unable to withhold a smirk as he watched one crush a shrunken doll beneath their feet.

“Oh dear, there goes all hope of solving climate change. Those poor polar bears!”

The soldiers, now seemingly privy to the Masters taunting, began to watch their step as they made their way to make the arrest. The Doctor watched with her perfected poker face, the Master smirking as the soldiers took grasp of his arms and began to pull them into cuffs. He shifted uncomfortably, rolling his shoulders and gasping.

“Oh, gentle, gentle boys! It’s a good job my wife’s not here, she’s really into this sort of thing. A good old bit of roughhousing.”

The Master read the name badge upon the soldiers’ uniform, and caught the Doctor's glare with a devious glimmer in his eye.

“Am I going to UNIT? I really hope I am.”

Yaz glanced towards the Doctor. The Timelord was breathing heavily, though she was doing a good job at hiding it. The Doctor looked at the soldiers around her, and memories came flooding back. The last time this situation occurred, with Missy and Kate in London, it had cost the life of Osgood. She knew the Master had more up his sleeve than he was letting on. To leave him alone without any supervision would be to sign the death warrant of all the soldiers in the room.

Maybe he was right, perhaps it was a good thing you weren’t here, no matter why. You weren’t here to encourage him. But you also weren’t here to hold him back.

“Give her a gun.”

The Doctor said bluntly, and the world around her sprung into action. The soldiers, guns aimed at the Master already, intensified their grip. Yaz rushed towards the Doctor with concern, confusion riddled over her face. Even the Master seemed slightly confused, his eyes panning between the Doctor, Yaz, and the handgun that had been thrust from the pocket of a soldier- now primed and ready to be taken. This was new. This was interesting. This meant the Doctor was deadly serious about what was about to occur. The Master found himself sufficiently excited, pressing his lips together to suppress his laugh.

“What?” Yaz asked, her hand lingering in the same spot on the Doctor's arm.

“Why?”

“Cover him. We’re going to take him in the TARDIS. Take the gun.”

“C’mon Yaz,” The Master singsonged, watching her squirm with sick pleasure.

“I thought she didn’t like guns. She must be worried. C’mon, I'll accept it as an apology for insulting my marriage.”

The Master grinned as Yaz accepted the gun, her gaze lingering on the Doctor's eyes. He watched as something unspoken spread between the pair, the Doctor urging Yaz with just the power of her glance. Yaz could see the Doctor was worried, she’d learnt the microexpressions upon the Timelord’s face by heart. All those years of that hologram, she knew what the smile lines at her eyes meant, the furrow of her brow at her anxieties. The Doctor was anticipating the worst. Yaz knew this meant she had to be at her best.

“There you go. Do you need me to show you how to use it, dear?”

Yaz cocked the gun and aimed it directly at the Masters head. She stared at him with hatred down the metal barrel, her finger primed and ready at the trigger. The months and months of police weapons training still lingered in the memory of her muscles, her shoulders hardening as she watched her target.

“The only green I've been is in weapons training. So don’t you worry. Now move.”

The Doctor watched as the Master relinquished his resistance, the UNIT soldiers flanking every side of his body as he was paraded towards the same staircase the Doctor arrived from. Yaz stayed at his tail as he was yanked up the stairs, the Master glancing over his shoulder towards the conference room with a dramatic sigh.

“We’ll pick up on the volcanic ash radius next time. Great chat, brilliant questions. Nice to see some familiar faces. Oh and boys, when you’re done stamping on them, clean up the tiny bodies and inform the loved ones for me. It was Daniel's wedding anniversary, his husband will be so upset!”

The Doctor watched the troupe of UNIT soldiers disappear from the room, a dark feeling twisting in her gut. Everything was so… disjointed. She had the larger pieces of the puzzle to hand, but there were still gaping holes in the picture, one shaped just like you. She knew the Master, and she knew you.

If you really were gone, she also would have known by now. The Master would have pulled something ridiculous- gone on another rampage, destroyed a civilization, scorched a message into the side of a planet begging you to come back. It was the most dangerous part of this current face of his. Beyond his temper, his disdain for good, and his seemingly self destructive nature- he had you.

You were somehow a part of this plot, the Doctor knew for sure. Only where you fit in, and how, were still a mystery to her. All she knew was that your card was still in the deck, and the Master had still to play it. The Doctor sighed as she followed the crowd. Something big was about to come over the horizon.

Though luckily, she still had her own cards up her sleeve- she still had her Tegan and her Ace.

“Tsarina, Rasputin and Mrs Dubrovina approaches.”

A maid declared to the Tsarina of Russia, the grand doors to the Winter Palace opening on command. The man from the cabin and his partner strolled elegantly into the hall, the man's hand reaching forwards to accept the touch of the Tsarina.

“Father Grigori, Madam Praskovya, thank you for coming. It is my son…”

“His haemophilia is a cruel illness.” The woman said softly, Madam Praskovya nodding at the presence of the Tsar at the planning table.

“Such a cruel illness, such a small injury… it is a test of faith indeed.”

“That is the problem I face, dear Father.” The Tsarina admitted through a pained whisper.

“I fear my faith is failing- I worry he has worsened, ever since the second moon emerged in the sky.”

“Such cosmic wonders are nothing to be feared, Tsarina. As I'm sure Father Grigori has told you, the universe is a benevolent leader.”

“Indeed, my dear Praskovya. A new moon, a new test of faith. Times such as these are sent to strengthen our faith, to test our commitment. They are a challenge we should not fall to.”

“I simply fear-”

“You should fear not. You should trust in my words, in the advice of Madam Praskovya. You should place your trust in us. In me.”

“But how-”

Rasputin's words were careful, soft and intentful as he met the Tsarina’s gaze.

“Are my eyes not full of certainty?”

Indeed they were. The Tsarina felt the compulsion within her, the hypnotic pull of command that eased her back into the comfort of obedience. She could trust Rasputin and Mrs Dubrovina. She must trust Rasputin and Mrs Dubrovina.

“They are.” She whispered, before falling back in line.

“Put him in the bunker. Full security detail, constant monitoring. I don’t want him out of our sight.” Kate commanded, the UNIT soldiers standing to attention from the moment the TARDIS had materialised inside HQ.

The Master gave a hop step as he sauntered out of the TARDIS, the strong arms of the UNIT personnel returning to grasp hold of his handcuffs. The corridor was flanked like a bridal procession- soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder, every inch of path the Master was about to walk down armed to the teeth. The Master smirked at Kate Stewart, standing there in all her familiar glory. Unknowingly still stood in the looming shadow of her father. One that everybody still casted her in, no matter how hard they denied it.

“Learned from last time, eh Kate? Ooh the bunker! Sounds so dramatic!”

The Master gave another hop step, the arms of the soldiers keeping him in the air. If he were any other Master on any other day, he might have proceeded to swing his way down the corridor like a child. That was more Missy’s style, however. He liked to think he still kept her fun side, not for a lack of heels and a lack of trying.

“I do love a good bunker. Anybody want to join in? Bunk up in the bunker? As long as you don’t snore.”

The Doctor had slipped out of the TARDIS behind the Master, watching him stroll down the corridor with a stone faced expression. Yaz had followed, standing beside her with the gun hanging from her hand. A soldier had opened their palm for her to place the firearm in, and she’d accepted the opportunity with thanks. As much as she hated the Master, she hated guns even more. That was something she’d proudly learned from the Doctor. Guns never solved anything.

The Master suddenly stopped, leaning over his shoulder. Kate had followed him behind, keeping a watchful eye on her prisoner. The Master smiled sickly, leering towards her face.

“You can try all you want Kate, you’ll never be your father. As much as an idiot he was. Your dad had a bespoke little prison made just for me, meanwhile you’re about to throw me in some ratty old cage like an animal. You pulled this stunt last time with the plane. That Briga-dear old dad of yours had a little more respect for me than that.”

Kate smirked, her resolve firm as she stepped closer towards the Master. She’d been preparing for this moment for years, her institution ready ever since the Cyber invasion in 2014. It was the nature of the Lethbridge-Stewart line: every one of them was able to handle the likes of the Master. Or at least, they prided themselves on trying to. No matter how hard the situation seemed.

“You seem to believe I harbour any respect for you at all.” Kate replied, unflinching.

“I suggest you correct that before you rot in the basement of my building. It’ll make things easier for you.”

“Awe, spoken like a true Lethbridge- Stewart. Don’t try and play the girlboss, darling. That was my thing. You think you got this job because you earned it? Tell me, how can the head of scientific research fail her GCSE Maths twice?”

Kate leant in closer, narrowing her eyes and curving her lips into a grin.

“I should start charging you rent, the amount of times you’ve been held captive in one of my facilities.”

“Are you offering frequent foe stamp cards?”

“You wouldn’t qualify. That would suggest we see you as an enemy worth our time.”

The Master grinned, his voice velvet smooth, tongue pricked and tainted with venom.

“If we’re so keen on saving time, why don’t you point out your favourite assistants to me now and I can kill them like I killed Osgood?”

The Master turned away, feeling victorious in his endeavour. He liked to believe he was above such trivial matters as a petty verbal squabble. He liked to think it, but he knew he wasn’t.

The biggest surprise to the Timelord came as he passed under the top deck, emerging out of the corridor and into the main hub of the building. He glanced over every face, each sad state of affairs that bore the UNIT logo upon their chest or name tag. There were soldiers, scientists, assistants and interns. Poor souls hired to pour the coffee. Merely additives to the death toll that was to come later.

But stood on the stairs, oh what a treat. The Master broke into a gasp of delight at the sight of two old faces leaning over the balcony of the stairs, two of the Doctor's old companions stood waiting for him to arrive. Tegan and Ace, those old friends of hers. Certainly, much older than they were when the Master first met them. Still holding the same glare of hatred. Some things never changed, he thought. It was nice to know they still held him in such high disregard.

“Oh, Tegan Jovanka!” He grinned, casting his glance towards the Australian woman. Oh, how wonderful her narrow eyed glare was.

“How’s your Aunty Vanessa? Do you keep ‘er in a liccle doll’s house?”

He teased in a silly voice, watching her face morph into a fury. It was rather adorable.

“Aur naur, hit a nerve did I?”

“I’m going to enjoy watching you get locked up in a tiny cell.”

“That's it, you go girl. Stick it to the Master. Speaking of tiny, where’s that little wife of yours? I expected you to be taking high tea on Trakken with the other ladies of the royal court, not skulking around UNIT in your sensible shoes. Oh don’t tell me… did Nyssa leave you too?”

The Doctor's glare began to burn a hole in the back of the Master's head, her eyes staring daggers into his mess of hair. Yaz watched as her stoic face began to silently crumble, the Master's words digging deep into her guilt. Tegan gave a disgruntled huff.

“Aw, bless. Well If you see her, let her know I made good use of her daddy’s body. Of course, after a few genocides he began to wear a bit thin. So she can sleep easily knowing people around the universe quake in fear at the thought of him, and he’s currently burned out of existence.”

“You destroyed Trakken, you ignorant dick.” Tegan hissed coldly, leaning further over the railing. Ace took hold of her arm to stop her lunging across the bar to throttle him. The Master gasped proudly.

“Did I?”

“When you thought it was a brilliant idea to unwrite reality.”

“Oh wow, I genuinely didn’t know. Oi, Kate, are you hearing this?” The Master called over his shoulder towards the head of UNIT.

“Unwriting reality, destroying planets. Sounds like stamp card material to me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

Ace called from the top of the staircase, her hand still holding on to Tegan's arm. The Master turned to look back at the pair, smirking fondly at the woman in the striped suit.

“And Ace too! Aren’t I lucky! Or should I call you Dorothy? Are we a bit too old for our old gang nicknames, or are the 80’s well and truly back?”

“You’re one to talk, Master.” She spat, looking the renegade Timelord up and down. The Master shrugged his shoulders indignantly.

“See, doesn’t it sound nice? Rolls off the tongue. Like your Prrrofessor. Or is that a sore spot for you, considering she ditched you?”

The Doctor was a few steps away from charging down the corridor, but she knew better. The Master was buying time, enjoying picking at the threads of each and every person in the building. It was all he had, now he’d been caught. He was like a bratty child, trying to grab attention while being ignored.

“A little fall out, perhaps? With your machiavellian maestro?”

Ace leant forward across the railing, knuckles white against the metal.

“Last time I saw you, you were half cat.” She hissed, glaring down at the Timelord. The Master smirked, looking from side to side at the two soldiers that had kept a tight grasp on his collar and arm. He remembered the Cheetah planet well, the effects still burning hot within him.

“A man’s allowed to experiment.” He grinned, baring his teeth and turning his hands into claws.

“I mean seriously, is this the best you could do? The Aussie and the street rat? Sorry ladies, but today was going so well. Seriously, Kate. You couldn’t have gotten me Jo Grant? At least I would’ve been nice to her.”

Kate sighed, stepping forwards and taking control.

“Show’s over. Take him away.”

The Master nodded in agreement, scrunching his nose and nodding along with Kate's command. He looked up to see several more faces had joined the audience, staring down at the commotion from the upper levels of UNIT HQ. The Master grinned. You would have loved this.

“Oh yes, yes! Take me away! Because then we’ll all feel safer with me in the building, in the hole, in the dark, right beneath your feet. Great job, Kate!”

The Master was yanked backwards into the lift, the doors starting to close. He suddenly burst forward, sticking his leg out and craning his neck. The door retreated back with a metal hum, the Master turning to stare at the Doctor with the same innocent eyes as earlier.

“You’re not going to leave them alone again, are you Doctor?” He giggled deviously, the soldiers yanking him back once more. This time the doors to the lift managed to close, the Timelord grinning dangerously as they shut before him.

From within the lift shaft his excited whoops could be heard, the soldiers that once flanked the lift dissipating from their post. Kate looked towards the ceiling once more, staring at the onlooking faces.

“I said the show's over!” She stated firmly. At once the onlookers disappeared.

The Doctor took a step forward, meeting Kate’s eyes as she turned towards the looming blue box.

“Kate, put the building on high alert. He’s planning something. His wife-”

“Is currently unaccounted for. I’ve had a team monitoring the chatter, she hasn’t been seen ever since his defection from MI6. We’re working under the presumption that she's planning an attack.”

“The Master has an army of Cybermen in 1916, they could strike at any minute. If he’s in your bunker, somebody else has to be watching over things.”

Kate turned and whispered towards an aid, who scurried off in another direction. Ace and Tegan made their way hurriedly down the steps, watching the Doctor retreat to the front of the TARDIS. The Doctor peered over Kate’s shoulder, looking at her two former companions

“Keep an eye on the Master. We won’t be long.”

Ace stared at the Doctor in disbelief. All of a sudden the same creeping feeling that had plagued her long ago returned. She wasn’t the strong woman she had grown into now: she was a teenager again, standing there watching her mentor, her closest friend, disappear into those police box doors. Disappearing without her.

“Professor,” She called. The feel of it on her tongue felt sour.

“Where are you going?”

Tegan frowned, already disgruntled from her argument, yet more than happy to enter into one with more meaning. But the Doctor didn’t stay- just as the Master had predicted. The two women watched the Timelord beckon Yaz into the TARDIS, closing the door behind her without a second word.

“She really doesn’t want us in there.” Tegan sighed, hands falling to her hips. There had to be a reasonable explanation- perhaps she’d redecorated and knew they’d be more than happy to judge. Maybe she was simply thinking ten steps ahead as usual, and this was part of the grand plan. Whatever it meant, Tegan and Ace were staying in the building. Staying at UNIT HQ. Perhaps that’s where they were meant to be.

Beneath their feet, the Master was pushed from the door of the lift and into the corridors of the basement. He glanced around the dark corridor, categorically observing every turn and side of the route to his destination. He began to whistle a jaunty tune, waving to all the soldiers that flanked his path once more.

“I love what you’ve done with the place.” He mused, the soldiers tugging at the back of his jacket once more. He let out a grunt as he was shoved forwards, clattering against the far wall of the metal cage known as the bunker.

He turned up his nose at his surroundings. God, what a dump. He supposed it must have been his fault the standards were so low these days. All the budget must have gone towards defeating his bigger and better schemes.

“At least the plane gave me a seat.” He grumbled, scuffing his shoes against the concrete floor as the guard secured the lock to the gate. He took a run up to the front bars, plastering himself across the locked door and calling to the guard.

“Excuse me darling, I booked the cage with a bed? And I don’t seem to have the room service menu.”

The guard stared down at him unimpressed, yet the Master continued on.

“I’ve got allergies, you see. Ever since they changed the recipe, I’m suddenly UNIT intolerant.”

The renegade Timelord chuckled as the guard turned away with a scowl, slamming the second door of entry to the bunker shut with a heave.

“You laugh now, but mark my words, the wife will NOT be happy when she gets here.”

The Master grinned, pushing off from the front of the cage. He began to hum a simple tune, sitting himself down in the far corner of the cage and stretching out his legs. He gave a small wave to the large camera in the top corner, before reclining with his hands behind his head. Oh, he missed the early days of UNIT imprisonment. How wonderful his past cage had been, with his workout equipment and colour TV. He’d spent many happy hours watching earth TV shows and scheming, the UNIT sanctioned prison uniform was dangerously comfortable. Oh, and that cape! With its glitter and stars and jewelled clasp. He still had it somewhere in the TARDIS. You were awfully fond of it too. He often thought the world wasn’t as magical as it used to be. You somehow kept the magic alive, though.

“Not long now…” He hummed to himself, staring at the ceiling and settling back down. “I love a good reunion. Oi, warden! Any chance of the WIFI password?”

“My dear Tsar, this endless war- I fear for our people as much as you do. Have you made a decision upon sending in more troops? Or do you intend to withdraw?”

Madam Praskovya approached the planning table, the Tsar pinching the bridge of his nose in concern.

“The decision is difficult. So many lives. What do you suggest?”

The woman smiled, placing a hand upon her stomach.

“Much like my husband, I fear for your family. As a mother myself, I believe the stress brings great turmoil to you all. I’m sure my husband would agree… a holiday for you all is a powerful remedy.”

The Tsar tilted his head in thought as Father Grigori stepped to his wife's side.

“Indeed, a long holiday, very soon. Some time away shall benefit you, don’t you think?”

The Tsar nodded in agreement, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Yes… a long holiday… very soon. That’s what I want… isn’t it?”

Rasputin stepped nearer.

“Yes, it is. I shall care for your beautiful Winter Palace, your staff shall follow the guidance of Madam Praskovya. And you shall remain assured of your one certainty. Which is?”

The Tsar was unable to look away, his eyes locked within the gaze of Grigori Rasputin. The man's wife, Praskovya Dubrovina, watched by his side, a knowing look upon her face. One that understood the instruction within his mind. One that was present when it was first placed there.

“That you… are the Master.” The Tsar spoke, the words falling from his tongue. The Master smiled, your own lips curving into a grin by his side.

“And I will obey you.”

“I really hoped I'd seen the last of him. But y’know, cats and their nine lives.”

Rattle. The brown backpack Tegan had kept slung over her shoulder had spread itself out over the floor.

Clang. The material at the top lip of the bag had rumpled and split open, the contents of the carrier spilling itself onto the linoleum. Tegan watched the bag curiously, taking an anxious step towards the brown bag.

Ace briefly glanced up from the computer screen, watching her friend anxiously.

“You alright?”

“No… the toy-”

Tegans hand nervously made its way to clutch upon the striped material of Ace's sleeve, instinct pulling her away from the other side of the room. The chair the bag had fallen from was spinning idly, her books and papers scattered. But the Cyberman toy, the small doll the Doctor had gifted to her, had somehow walked across the room and positioned itself in the middle of the walkway. It was a stand off between the two women and the small Cyber toy, each one daring it to move and praying it wouldn’t. The screen behind them suddenly began to fizzle and crackle, the picture of the Master’s cell blaring itself in glorious black and white.

“Oh dear, did she want to come out already?”

The pair span around at the sound of the Master's voice from the speakers. The Timelord was sitting in the corner of the room, flexing his bound wrists and staring dead straight into the camera. Tegan was right, the sight of the criminal in a tiny cell brought the pair some sense of comfort. A miniscule sense of justice, just as big as the toy. But the smirk on his face and the glimmer in his eye spoke of something not to be trusted. How was he even communicating with them? How did he know where they’d be?

“I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. It must be awful being trapped inside a tiny little figurine. Mustn't it?”

“How the hell is he doing that?”

Ace whispered to herself. The Master scrunched his shoulders happily.

“Trust you, Tegan the brave heart. Should have nicknamed you Tegan the naive. Did you really think the Doctor would go out of her way to send you one tiny little toy?”

Tegan inched closer to Ace’s side, the woman's fists already clenched, her face calculating what he was saying. The Master was relishing in the cruelty of nostalgia today. It was a loose thread the two were determined not to let him pull. But he was tugging rather hard.

“The Doctor didn’t send you that toy. I did. I must thank you for taking such good care of her. Parting is such sweet sorrow, after all. But I knew I could count on you to keep it close if you thought your beloved Doctor still remembered you.”

The Master had risen to stand, bringing his face inches from the camera as he stared down the lens from the dingy basement bunker. Up close, the pair could see the evil speckled across his eyes. No wonder he’d been so adept at using them to control others. Even his eyes spoke of everything they and the Doctor stood against.

“You kept it close, because deep down you know you have nothing else. It’s poetry in motion, you’ll see. Especially with this next part. I hope you’ve been paying attention.”

“Why do you keep calling it a she?”

Ace suddenly asked, matching his look into the camera. The Master chuckled, tapping his fingertip against the glass.

“Oh, gold star for Mcshane! You see, that ain't just any Cyberman. It’s rather special, close to my hearts. All I have to say is, I don’t know… ‘Activate protocol 23’... and something rather magical happens.”

At the Masters declaration, the Cyberman began to shudder and grow. The doll's limbs began to expand and lurch outwards, the entire figure swelling and shooting up and size at rapid speed. The two women stepped back in shock as the figure soon reached north of six feet, the centre bond between the two half’s glowing and splitting itself open.

“Meet my Russian doll. Sweet Tegan, you should have held on to your dear old aunt. Because y’know what the best part of tissue compression is?... It also works in reverse.”

The Master laughed madly as a wild glow began to emanate out of the Cyber figure, the familiar stomping of Cybermen echoing through the office. Two by two the legion of Cybermen began to bleed out into the HQ, their metal feet punching into the ground as they assumed strategic formation. Ace was quick on her feet- the woman suddenly sprung into action, sliding across the floor of the office and grasping hold of the two handles in a floor panel beneath the main desk. The panel was yanked from its place in the floor, revealing a secret compartment- large black guns and strips of ammunition sat in floor-bound holsters, the gold bullets shimmering within their casings. UNIT knew how to handle a Cyber invasion. They’d had more than enough experience.

The layers within the Cyber doll continued to peel away, until the glimmering white faded into a silhouette of jet black. The doll split open as before, but this time an unfamiliar sight stepped out. It was a Cyberman, decayed and rusted, one arm covered in cloth and wielding flesh, half of its face broken and shattered, revealing the pale skin of its body beneath. The Cyberman glared at the two women with its still human eye. The Master clasped his hands together with glee.

“Don’t be scared girls, meet my friend Ashad! I killed him once but he’s forgiven me now, because now he’s become useful to me. Call him the head of security.”

The figure had yet to finish its lightshow. The black layer had slipped away, revealing a layer of shimmering metal, engraved in circular Gallifreyan and glimmering gold. The join in the middle split once more, revealing a distant figure between the hazing glow of the doll. Two feet stepped out from the doll before it came crashing down into a screwed up mass of metal, the figure's shoulders rolling back and arms stretching to the heavens. Rocking on their heels before sighing with a flourish, the figure gave a teasing wave to the two women.

“Lovely day for an invasion, isn’t it?” You grinned, before pulling two blasters from the holsters on your belt.

“TEGAN!” Ace called from across the room. Tegan instantly sprinted across the screen, the Master smiling devilishly as he peered into the screen.

“The basement calls, Love. Why don’t you let the Cybermen play while we catch up?”

You watched as Tegan hastily flipped the front desk onto its side, Ace wielding the large black guns. You gave a teasing laugh as you waved your blaster in the air.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but places to be! Boys, you can take it from here.”

The Master's laughter echoed in the distance as you sprinted from the room, the sudden sound of gunfire slamming into the walls. Oh, how incredible it felt to stretch your legs again! To feel the wind in your hair as you ran through corridors, terrorising men in uniform. You were practically skipping through the corridors, the tribes of UNIT soldiers bursting in from every direction as you made your way through the building. One by one you unleashed your blasters into their chests, their heads, any place you could land a hit. They had bigger things to focus on than little old you. Cyber invasions always tended to be rather show stopping. Metal men always managed to steal the attention away from the important parts of the plan.

“ATTENTION. UNIT HQ IS UNDER ATTACK FROM CYBERMEN.”

Kate’s voice blared over the speakers, the sirens calling out through the tannoy as you sprinted down the stairs towards the basement. You navigated every turn, the dark grunge of the basement alight with gunfire as you took your quest to find the Master. The corridors were sensical, the path ahead of you easy to navigate as you shot down soldier after soldier. You could feel them all, waiting to get that wonderful kill, a badge of honour. What a shame for them. What fun for you.

The last door in the corridor burst open, and you made your way inside. The two that were waiting were an easy shot, two blasts into their exposed chests were easy hits to make. You dodged the close range fire determinedly, a few near scrapes making you jolt. The soldiers fell like wonderful dominoes as you ran towards the next corridor, the sound of familiar laughter floating from down the hall. You felt your hearts lurch within your chest at the sound, the last two soldiers falling to the ground as you sent the blasts into their necks. There was a door at the end of the corridor, an entryway lined with fencing. That was where the sound was coming from.

You paused just before, shaking your hands and taking a breath. You fixed the stray strands of hair that had fallen out of place, smoothing down your outfit with the sides of the blasters before aiming at the locking mechanism on the door. The lock sparked with fire at the impact, the door to the bunker swinging open, inviting you inside.

Your eyes widened with delight as they fell upon the Master. He’d switched up his look since the last time you saw him, your heart fluttering within your chest as you ran towards the bars. The Master raised his hands to shield his face as you aimed your blaster towards the second mechanical lock, the black box bursting open with the force of the blast and sending the door swinging open with a start. The Master growled excitedly, his wrists ripping apart the chain connecting the two cuffs as he flexed his arms, the Timelord letting out a delighted sigh as he unbuttoned his tweed overcoat.

“Oh darling.” He grinned, his voice as velvet as you remembered it to be.

The distance between you was gone in an instant, the Master's arms opening wide as you flung yourself into his embrace. His hold wrapped tightly around your shoulders, his face plunging into your neck as you buzzed with excitement. Here he was, and here you were. Both alive and well, thanks to his genius.

“I knew it would work; I knew compression would keep you safe. Oh, that Tegan, she did so well. She brought you exactly where I needed you.”

You pulled away from his tight grip and gazed at your husband with adoring eyes. You’d missed him so much, the blood pumping through your veins as you felt his lips press against your hairline.

“Right by my side.”

“UNIT hasn’t changed.” You mused, tugging him forwards towards the exit of the cell.

“Still run like a circus, still just as fun to break out of.”

“I still think my stamp card idea is worth the investment.” The Master purred, his smile like the Cheshire cat as he shook his hands with merriment. All that energy built up in his system, now notched up a level by your arrival. He’d missed you terribly, the ache in his chest at your absence now replaced by the deafening thud of his heartbeats. Now his plan was well and truly in motion.

The Master took hold of your hand, your blaster slipped back into its holster as he leapt through the destroyed gate and into the perimeter around the bunker.

“They thought chainmail would keep me in.” He teased, leaning down and admiring the sparking wires of the lock.

“How cute.”

You watched the Master lean down to the base of the gate, running his fingers over the metal and grasping hold of the rod that connected into the lock box. He tugged hard, letting out a feverish grunt as the metal began to warp, the rod bending and creaking as he yanked it out of its position. The rod came free in the Master's hands, the Timelord snarling like a wild animal as he clutched the metal, and as if wielding a baseball bat, swung forwards and clubbed at the glass circuit breaker in the wall. The frosted glass shattered into a thousand pieces, the Master digging his fingers into the mains and ripping out a section of the wiring. Only this wasn’t any old part of the wiring, the way it shone in the light of the basement and churned within the Timelord's hands. You watched him grip the TCE with pride, his finger slipping into the copper ring as he stood before you with a flourish. You clapped your hands together with glee, the Master preening at your praise. He always worked better with an audience.

The Master suddenly surged forwards, his free hand slipping around your back and the other gasping your hand. The Master began to spin you, feet waltzing across the concrete floor, his eyes meeting your own. You danced to the sweet sound of bullets and screams, just as you’d danced to the destruction of Gallifrey. He’d kept you safe all that time, carrying you between his hearts until he was sure you could be safe. Until he could ensure nothing would stand in your way when it came to your part of the plan. Here you were once more, right between his hearts. Where you always were meant to be.

The sudden arrival of Ashad at the door told the Master it was time.

“The soldiers are moving down the stairs.” He grated, metal on metal.

The Master sighed, tilting his head and pushing your hair behind your ear.

“We need to get moving, don’t we?” You asked, shivering at his touch. The Master nodded, tapping his finger on the end of your nose.

“Yes, my love, we certainly do. I’m so glad I cloned him.”

“We should keep him, like a neutered pet.”

“Trust me, dearest. If it’s a pet you’re after, I have one in mind. You’ll see.”

The Master hummed once more to himself as he spun you one last time, elated giggles pulling themselves from your throat as he leant you down into a dip. Your hands flung to wrap around his neck, the Master's arm that held the TCE extending out beyond your head.

“Welcome home, love.” He grinned, before allowing his thumb to activate the trigger. Your faces met as the trigger was pulled, the Master's lips meeting your own as you disappeared in a whirlwind of teleportation energy.

There was truly no place like home.

The winter wind bellowed beyond the walls of the wooden cabin, the haze of teleportation energy sending light shining against the dark wood. You landed in the Masters embrace, your eyes adjusting to the darkness as you kept a tight hold upon his shoulders.

“Welcome to Russia, 1916.” The Master grinned, his hands refusing to leave your body. He’d been apart from you for far too long.

“I hope my disguise is warm enough.” You teased. The Master chuckled fondly.

“You won’t need to worry about the heat, the Winter Palace is cold in name only.”

“The Winter Palace? Am I about to be a Tsarina?”

The Master shook his head, causing you to give a melodramatic pout.

“Close, but no cigar. We’ll be having a little more fun than that.”

The Master's hand guided your lower back towards the wardrobe in the corner, the doors opening with a creak. Two different garments, similar in style, hung upon wire hangers- your hands instinctively went to caress the material.

“We won’t be Tsar and Tsarina, love. But we’ll be the next best thing. Say hello to Madam Praskovya, and Father Grigori.”

You paused, the name ringing familiar. You turned towards the Master with a raised eyebrow, the Timelord smirking proudly.

“More likely known to history as Praskovya Fedorovna Dubrovina, and her husband: Grigori Yefimovich-”

“Rasputin.” You breathed out, the same smile spreading across your face. You sank back into his hold, the Master’s head resting against your own. His excitement was tangible through his skin, the Timelord buzzing with anticipation.

“Russia’s greatest love machine?” You asked, hope in your tone.

The Master simply winked in reply.

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fanfickitchenette · 2 years

Text

Friend of the Empress, Chapter Two

Orlo x Reader; Chapter Two--A Wedding and A Letter-Writer

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

In the court of Emperor Peter things are not what Y/n expected. Your maid seems nervous, almost afraid during your interactions, and Catherine seems off after only being out of your sight for a short time. But there's still a wedding to be had, a feast to attend and a friend who's looking forward to her wedding night. You wonder if there's anyone who could maybe shine a little light on the situation.

*no warnings I can think of for this chapter* BUT

TAGS for the story as a whole--eventual smut; talk of death, murder, SA (none in the story, just discussion); canon-typical violence; strangers-friends-lovers; angst; lots of platonic love; slow-burn

Word Count 4K

Chapter Two: A Wedding and A Letter-Writer

Catherine’s smile is chipper as the archbishop waits for her in the hall just outside your new rooms, “I will call for you to help prepare me for the wedding. Whatever Archbishop Samsa needs to do shouldn’t take long, though,” her voice drops to a conspiratorial level, “I also wish he would let you come with me. I hate to part so soon but worry not. Freshen up, my dear Y/n, and then we will dress together as we always do.” Your rooms are spectacular. The entrance is the receiving room, green damask wallpaper and furniture that seems even more lavish than the ones you became used to at Catherine’s family estate. That said, you shouldn’t feel so off and unwelcome in what will be your home for the foreseeable future, but your three chests and two smaller traveling bags feel dwarfed in this place. It’s as if you’re just a water stain on a piece of parchment, ruining the aesthetic of the place.

You forcibly blink, trying to shake off the feeling settling under you skin before it can find purchase and take root, “I’ll wait with bated, Catherine. You will have to tell me about whatever secret, Russian ritual the archbishop puts you through. Maybe it will involve your bear.” It was a point you enjoyed teasing your friend over. A few weeks before Lady Joanna had informed Catherine of her impeding nuptials to Peter, before the letter arrived, your friend’s dream of a bear had consumed her thoughts for days. She didn’t normally believe in signs but was fully assured that it was one. You couldn’t help reminding her that she had been reading of adventures with foreign wildlife the day of her dream and must’ve simply been drawn to the idea of bears.

“Maybe it will. And then you will be proven wrong. That the bear is a sign of my great love and you’re narrow-minded for thinking otherwise.” as firmly as Catherine says this her smile is soft and she touches your shoulder before turning to go. The doors shut behind her, leaving you and your appointed maid standing is thick silence. Maybe you only imagine that it’s thick but the fact that the other woman in the room won’t meet your eyes does nothing to sway your anxiety. She’s a bit shorter than you, though not overly noticeable, with dark sable skin and an enviously strong profile of her jaw and nose.

You didn’t have a personal maid in your parent’s home and, often, at Catherine’s estate her lady’s maid would assist you as well as her. Your father always insisted that you learn to dress yourself and not remain a helpless child in that aspect (Lady Joanna often would scoff at your father’s tendency to make you self-sufficient) and he insisted that another person to pay on staff was something to be avoided. Your family did not hold the same social standing that Catherine’s did, but you know that your own finances are better than her family at the moment.

You have to start your stay off somehow and you decide to ask if a bath wouldn’t be too much trouble for your maid to draw at midday, “Hello. I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name when I came in.” Her eyes—again with such wonderful lashes, you wonder if it’s a Russian trait—flit to meet yours before dropping back down. Her curtsy is careful and awfully low.

“Dilara, my lady. If it suits you.” Oddly put, you think, but maybe a colloquial turn of phrase you’ll have to get used to.

“It does suit me. It’s very pretty. Dilara, would you mind drawing me a bath while I wait for Catherine to call for me? I’m afraid travel has left me feeling a bit odd and I think cleaning myself would help.”

“Of course, my lady. Are there any oils you would like?”

“No, none today. Just soap to clean myself.” Dilara dips into stiff curtsy and quickly heads out. You stand on the spot and look after her for a moment. As suffocating as the room felt with her in it, it does not feel any better now that she’s left. Your chests are stacked next to the small table that’s placed between the chaise lounges you have. Deciding that you can at least keep your hands busy, even as your mind trips over itself, you walk over and grab the top chest and drag it into the slightly open area near the entrance to your bedroom. It’s heavy, heavier than you were expecting, and that makes it clear that it’s the chest that does not house any of your clothes. Lady Joanna’s last-minute notice for your departure meant you rushed to pack up anything in her estate that you wanted. You had an awful feeling that morning, rushing back and forth in the room that you’d loosely called yours since you were seven, that nothing of yours would remain when you returned to Germany. If you ever returned.

You can remember when Nina, Catherine’s eldest sister, went to visit ‘distant relatives’ in Lisbon. Both of Catherine’s parents went with her. They returned almost four months later—without Nina but with the news that they had a Queen in the family. Catherine played it off well, how happy and proud she was, and so did the rest of her siblings. But once their parents were no longer watching it changed. You saw reality set in for the girls and felt it for yourself. Even her younger brother Frederick was unsettled by the rapid difference in his home life. How quickly things could change without you realizing; events being set in motion by players so much bigger than yourself.

In your chest are the books and keepsakes you managed to stuff in it. You had to leave a fair few behind. Catherine’s love of philosophy matched your love for poetry, for stories that you could sink into and dream of. The first one you pull out is thinner than most, warn down at the edges from age and the touch of young fingers, a children’s story that your first tutor gave you as a going away gift when he moved on. Jack the Giant Killer—Catherine outgrew it quickly, her mother’s remark about babyish nonsense turning her head, but you and Frederick enjoyed playing out the story on sunny days on the estate lawn. Eventually the play stopped, most of your casual interactions with Frederick stopped, but you value the whispers of soft breezes and summer grass and imagined castles in the clouds that it holds. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave it behind.

Under your children’s story come more titles and beloved words and worlds. Works by Daniel Defoe and Henry Fielding. Some feminist pieces—thoughts that you hid behind your lips even as Catherine would espouse them earnestly—including old issues of a discontinued magazine for ladies. Some classical works by men like Sophocles, Euripides, and Homer. And, at the very bottom, some of the more controversial writings that you did not dare let even Catherine know that you had. Poetry by Sappho and Philodemus and their ilk. At least with Philodemus you could claim it was his philosophy and not his poetry you had a collection of. The act of sex was not one you were intimate with, certainly, but you were not fully naïve.

On the trip to Russia, Catherine told you what her mother explained the wedding night would be. It sounded different than what your own mother implied, in the bits and pieces that she alluded to, but Lady Joanna’s words did not sound too different from the poetry about married sex, about sex that comes with love. You doubted that yourself or, more presently, Catherine would ever have to worry about the crudeness that some ancient poetry featured. At least you hoped so. You would not like to make someone tremble even as they actively thought that they did not think you attractive, only that you were useful or convenient.

You wander into your attached bedroom, a decent size but mostly filled up by the large bed and twin wardrobes of oak. Off to the right side of the bed as you walk in are shelves built into the wall. You go back to your books and start carrying them in to arrange them on the offered shelves. The process doesn’t take long, leaving you to think about how few books you managed to squirrel away before leaving. You are halfway through laying out your clothes on your bed when Dilara returns with a few other women. All of them carrying buckets of water.

You go over to watch as in the other small room—though that’s a generous term for the space housing the bath and nothing else—attached to the receiving area your bath is filled. One of the servants nudges Dilara’s arm and murmurs something, her eyes darting toward your open and partially empty chests. Dilara stiffens further, if such a thing were possible, and nods to the other woman. She approaches you cautiously, reminding you of how Catherine attempted to approach and feed a young doe that wandered the edges of the estate the summer you were thirteen.

“My lady, please pardon me. I didn’t think that I’d be leaving you to unpack alone. I should have sent for the water and stayed to unpack for you.” She looks almost fearful, and you can understand somewhat, but not to this extent. The only time you’d seen any servant punished was when one of the stable hands stole from the house. Dilara hadn’t done something that bad and, frankly, you would have preferred to organize your books yourself. You weren’t sure where some of your keepsakes would go but you’d figure that out later, as well.

“It’s no issue, Dilara. You are fully forgiven, think nothing of it. You can finish unpacking my clothes while I bathe. I’d prefer to sort through and place the things that aren’t clothing, though.” You notice that while the bath is full most of the other female servants have not fully vacated the room but linger by the door. It seems as if they’re waiting for something. Dilara finally meets your eyes and doesn’t drop gazes immediately, searching for something.

“Do you not want help in the bath, my lady? I can do your hair for you.” You already start shaking your head before she’s fully finished speaking.

“No, no. I prefer solitude in the bath, and I doubt I have too much time to relax before I hear from Catherine. If you’d put away my clothing that would be enough for now. Thank you.”

The servants by the door start trickling out, shooting looks to Dilara as they go. You’re not fully sure what you’ve done but she looks as wrong-footed as you’ve felt since you arrived earlier. She moves off without another word and you’re left thinking about it as you strip to bathe.

You are mostly dried and in a simple dress, the one you will be changing into for the wedding along with some jewelry and hair pieces sit on the left side of your bed, when word arrives from Catherine. Dilara already has your things in her arms before you say a word and the two of you walk in silence behind the soldier guiding you to Catherine’s suite. Two other men stand outside her doors, also dressed in uniform, and they pull the doors open to allow you and Dilara entrance. Your jaw drops slightly. If your rooms were grand—the nice receiving area, bedroom, and small bathing space—then Catherine’s have them beat by at least fifty times. The wideness and fullness of the room is not lost on you as you and Dilara navigate around Catherine’s many trunks. Most are not opened yet, seemingly just the one with her wedding apparel that Lady Joanna specially approved.

Beyond the room, the first thing you notice is Catherine’s tight smile as she greets you. Her hug, normally firm and exuberant, goes on longer than normal. Your arms wrap around her shoulders, and she huffs out a breath onto your neck, squeezing hard before letting go. You’re about to ask what happened when her maid pipes up. Small, clever-eyed and clear-skinned, the woman assigned to Catherine is lovely but with a knowing, hard look in her gaze. The look she throws to Dilara is swift and the meaning lost on you but the grimace your maid throws back, just as swift before it disappears, is obvious to you. Dilara knows what’s wrong and you do not. That doesn’t sit well but you remind yourself you can speak after the wedding or even tomorrow if needed. Catherine would let you know if it was something you urgently needed to know.

“Empress,” the maid says, “If we don’t get you ready now, then you’ll most likely be late to the vows. The archbishop is rather obsessed with keeping time during his work.” You glance to Catherine who seems to take this in stride.

“Very well, Marial. You will help me get ready and Y/n will be dressed by her maid at the same time. Though, Y/n,” your friend looks at you, the strain in her face all but gone, “I’d like if you would do my hair. It would be nice to have something that reminds me of home when I marry, and mother was very…tactful in picking out this new dress. Would that be alright?”

Marial and Dilara seem to share another look and you worry that it’s not just the language you’re behind in, “Anything you ask, Catherine,” you sweep her a deep bow, causing her to let out a peal of laughter, “I am at your service.” As long as you’ve known her, Catherine has been not only an idealist but a romantic to her core. The two of you would play act courting scenarios and her favorite was when you would come in as the dashing gentleman—proclaiming your undying fealty, espousing poetry and ‘original’ ideas of philosophy (you know of her desperate crush on Voltaire, as it was his philosophy you often parroted in order to sweep her off her feet).

Still giggling, she curtsies deeply in response, one hand placed across her chest, “ And I at yours, my heart. Though I pledge myself to another today, know that the embers of our time together shall keep me warm on the darkest nights.”

“Then, I will console myself with this fate, as long as you remember me and know that you will always remain within my soul, within the core of my being.” Both of you are laughing softly and it comforts you. You are not home but Catherine holds pieces of home for you. And you know that you do the same. At least neither of you are alone in this strange new world. That is something that you will keep within you, for as long as the two of you are together.

The wedding is elegant and grand. You notice that Emperor Peter is twitchy. Glancing back once or twice to a tall, slightly gangly man placed near you. You do not think much of it, though Catherine faces her marriage head-on. She is fully devoted and enthralled by Peter and you can’t help thinking that she does not need to look back in assurance to you. But Peter, able to stay in his home since birth, surrounded by his own people, seems out of place in the solemn affair that the archbishop presides over.

From the wedding, which takes far too long in your opinion, you all move to the banquet hall. You walk there with a woman who introduces herself as Peter’s aunt, Lady Elizabeth, and asks after the mating issue of German swans. You are still trying to parse out her meaning, if she truly is asking you about swans or if you simply are losing something in translation, when she takes her leave of you. Luckily, she was kind enough to walk you to your seat first. Your Russian is more than passable in conversation—or so you hope—but your reading comprehension is coming along at a snail’s pace, and you barely recognize the characters that indicate your name on the seating placard.

Seated next to you is a woman who immediately introduces herself, “You’re the empress’ companion, aren’t you? It’s wonderful to meet you. I’m Lady Georgina and this,” you blink and notice the man next to her, the same one you saw Peter glancing toward during the wedding, “is my husband Grigor. We are good friends to the emperor. I believe that we will be destined to spend much time together and become good friends. If you need anything don’t hesitate to turn to me.” She says this with so much conviction you’re nodding along without much thought, introducing yourself and hoping your accent isn’t too noticeable when you speak Russian. Except with Dilara and Marial, you haven’t had much exposure to speaking the languages with those who have it for their mother tongue. Lady Elizabeth didn’t comment but you aren’t very sure if she’d noticed as you mostly stammered in befuddlement and tried to think of any swan related facts you knew. Which were not many.

The feast begins in earnest shortly after your introduction, Lady Georgina and Lord Grigor tucking into their food and focusing mostly on each other and watching Catherine and the emperor. You take the moment to glance around the room. The way everyone eats is full of relish and everyone is much louder than you are used to. Across from you and down slightly are two of the men that were with the emperor during his introduction to Catherine earlier in the day. The older man, pot-bellied with a ruddy complexion, is drinking heavily. He’s chatting with the woman next to him but leaning onto the younger man on his other side occasionally.

The man who apparently wrote the letter to Catherine, at least you think he did, looks distinctly uncomfortable. You also notice that he is not being engaged by anyone other than the older man who sways into him from time to time. He catches you looking (a voice sounding like a garbled mix of your mother and Lady Joanna remind you that staring is not polite) and seems surprised and unsure of himself. You send him a tentative smile—you think that writing a letter for someone else is a bit misleading, but you agreed with Catherine, it was a wonderous letter in its words and sentiments, so he can’t be truly bad—and he returns you a faint one of his own before his attention is drawn away by the older man sloshing into his side. At almost the same time you hear your name called. Lady Elizabeth is smiling at you from down the table.

“Y/n, did you have the opportunity to recollect anything about your German swans? I would dearly love to find out what I can for a painting I’m commissioning. It’s based of the myth of Leda. So, thrilling, don’t you find?”

“Thrilling?” Again, you worry that something is lost in translation. You know the myth but thrilling may not be the term you would use.

“Well, of course! I have a series I’m trying to build. My portrait of the bull and the queen is already completed. You should come by my suite and see it soon. Leda and the swan is next. Though, I’m not sure where my palette will take me next. It’s all so wonderfully delectable, isn’t it?”

You’re saved from having to answer by the emperor suddenly pushing down the man who was previously seated by the letter-writer. It’s hard to hear much over the din of the room but you catch the motion from the corner of your eye. Lady Georgina pats your hand when she notices you startle. You watch Lady Elizabeth approach Catherine, having followed your reaction to the head table. It seems like a kind but awkward interaction. Suddenly, Peter launches a glass at the floor with an exclamation, making both you and Catherine jerk slightly. No one else seems surprised in the least.

“I miss my mother today. How she would have loved this. She was the last empress of Russia. But a toast, to my new wife. The new empress of Russia.” The room follows his short statement with a round of glasses smashing and shouts of ‘Huzzah’—you must ask Catherine about this word, she never mentioned it in your studies. You watch your friend attempt to stand, you know her speeches can be grandiose but always heartfelt. He makes her sit back down again and something in your heart lowers and settles into the murk that build deep in your stomach.

He gifts her a bear, and you know how she will take it. You know who your friend is. She will see the best in it, take it as a sign, and double down on earnestly living out her great love. You watch the faces of the court, people cheering and laughing. Lady Georgina and Lord Grigor shout encouragement next you. Lady Elizabeth looks well pleased, as does most everyone else. The letter-writer, however, does not. He has a nervous smile on his face and seems to be cataloguing the reaction of everyone around him, the same as you. It would be good, you muse, to have someone here to speak to that is also suspect of the players in the room. Especially if he’s an established player himself. For Catherine, who is so quick to trust, you must find out if your gut feeling about this court is correct.

Catherine does not remain in the room much longer, a short conversation with Lady Elizabeth has her all smiles and your friend jerks her head for you to follow her. You promise yourself that you will find and speak to the letter-writer tomorrow. She whirls around on you, grabbing your hands in hers and begins walking backward, the moment both of you have made it a short distance from the banquet hall. “It is time for my wedding night. Lady Elizabeth told me that Peter will be to my rooms shortly. Y/n, did you see the bear? Now you must eat your words! He is my great love. I knew it! I believe it may take some time for us two to work out our rough edges, but we will manage. Will you wait with me until his arrival? It would grant me tremendous strength to have you with me,” she looks over you shoulder slightly, “That would not be against how things are done, would it, Marial?” In surprise you glance over your shoulder, noticing both your maid, Dilara, and hers are walking behind you both.

Marial looks hesitant but nods slightly, “It wouldn’t go against anything we do here, no. But, if I might, I would suggest you only stay for a while. Dilara can take you back to your rooms after the empress changes, Lady Y/n. It might make things run just a bit smoother.” Catherine looks thoughtful, releases your hands, and gives a quick twirl. Her girlish excitement is invigorating. Your feelings toward the emperor are muddled but you are excited for your friend. It’s hard not to be.

“That would work. Would it not, my dear friend?” Catherine is all glowing eyes as she asks.

Your eye roll is fond as you tug her toward you to link arms, “As always, Catherine, anything for you.”

#catherine the great #the great hulu #the great fanfiction #the great imagine #count orlo #count orlo x reader #sacha dhawan #slow burn #friends to lovers #orlo is on the ace spectrum for sure #fanfic

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