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evenstar0600 · 1 year

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greetings name twin! loved your Tom riddle fic. it was super good :) could I humbly request some headcanons for how different doctor who characters would react to you cupping their face??? thank you :)))))

hello, my lovely. and fellow Jace. thank you for your kind words!

PLOT: the request

PAIRING: various!doctor who characters x gender neutral!reader

WARNINGS: biting, the master (they are a warning by themself), mentions of the time war, angst, fluff etc

AUTHOR'S NOTES: reader is female in bill's part and is half time-lord btw. and reader is female in yaz's part.

THE NINTH DOCTOR

mans is shocked

like 100% will freeze and just awkwardly stand there

he'll eventually melt into your touch

since the time war, he's closed off his emotions

upon cupping his face, he'll become emotionally vulnerable around you

ngl, he'd probably say 'fantastic!' or something like that.

THE TENTH DOCTOR

bless this sweet baby's hearts

since he's the polar opposite of his previous incarnation, he'll be all for it

i can picture him blushing and smiling (like in the gif)

you'd have him twirling his hair and kicking his feet

100% would give you forehead kisses and cuddles

would be a bit confused as he's got a thing with rose but y'know, for the sake of fanfic they're not together

THE ELEVENTH DOCTOR

baby. baby boy.

he'd be all smiles and shit like that

he loves you to the edge of the universe and back

in turn, he'd cup both your cheeks too

100% would catch feelings for you after this

deffo would snog you

amy ships it

river, who knows what happens in the future, just smiles contentedly and knowingly

THE TWELFTH DOCTOR

"what the hell are you doing?"

i can picture him saying that

like nine, he'd be frozen solid

for at least a minute or two

he melts into your touch

he comes off as a grumpy old man but he yearns for affection

he'll even kiss your palm softly and brush his nose against your thumb

like with clara in face the raven, he'd retract your hand and softly kiss it

THE THIRTEENTH DOCTOR

she's gonna say shit like "brilliant".

also, since she's fruity asf she'll blush

much like her previous incarnations, she'll blush

and smile

this bby is made of sunshine and rainbows

i love her sm

might pull a chris chibbers and not kiss you (# we were deprived of a thasmin kiss)

SIMM!MASTER

would bite your hand

like 10000000% would bite your hand

depends on his mood

he'll either nip your hand or maybe its a full-on chomp

we've seen him in "the end of time", he ate two whole ass people that episode

he's either biting you or straight-up killing you.

there is no middle ground

MISSY/GOMEZ!MASTER

it depends which part of capaldi's era

if it's in series 9, then she'll do to you what she did to osgood.

dead

deadeth

unaliven't

if its in series 10, she'll freeze.

she might cry

will need cheering up

so cuddles

she might shrug you off but then a couple hours later, she might cuddle with you.

either way, its death or cuddles.

your choice

DHAWAN!MASTER

crazy ass fucker

like simm, he gives bitey vibes

instead of having half a mind to eat you or some shit, he'll nip your hand

or he'd scoff at your and push you away

third case scenario, if he's feeling vulnerable, he'll demand a hug

and god, if anyone hears about it, they're dead

canon, i'm his eyebrow

ROSE TYLER

she's so pretty <33333

given the era she's from, she'd probs say "i'm not gay"

for the sake of fanfic, i reckon she'd smile and give you a hug

i can imagine her giving really good hugs

will take you out for chips after

MARTHA JONES

she's stunning <33333

would be a bit awkward given her crush on the doctor

for the sake of the fic, she doesn't fancy the doctor

she might cry

but its happy tears

melts into your touch

would probably develop feelings for you

DONNA NOBLE

"wot"

^what she's realistically say

given that her ex-fiancee tried to kill her or something, she's a bit wary

would probably say something like "you wot mate?" or "not my type, sunshine" idk

the doctor is probably standing in the background like "miss girl what is going on here"

wilf might smile or something. (love wilf sm)

RORY WILLIAMS

would be so awkward it's cute

he's so sexy in the roman uniform

given he's married to amy, he'd be like "no thanks"

or he'd say like "i'm flattered but i'm happily- moderately- i'm married"

(again for the sake of fanfic, he and amy aren't together)

he'd 100% blush

river is, once again, smiling the background

RIVER SONG

she knows all

when you first met the infamous river song, she told you that both of you were, quote on quote, "close" in the future

after the ordeal with the weeping angels, you were terrified.

she comforts you and you cup her cheek

she smiles, knowing that this is the start of something brilliant

would maybe cry a little but would kiss your forehead

years down the line, you'd both reflect on how that was the starting point of your marriage

AMY POND

100% would flirt with you

like i'm not even kidding

rory would be like "wtf" in the background"

theres an episode where she started flirting with herself so i'm not even suprised

maybe, just maybe, would give you a smooch

CLARA OSWALD

your impossible girl

would be a tad shocked but would smile

bisexual queen

kisses your hand

then kisses you

no middle ground

melts into your touch 100%

BILL POTTS

bill is a sweetheart and one of my favourite companions

if you cupped her face after a stressful adventure, she'd pause

time would literally stop for her

she'd smile

since loosing heather to the sentient oil, love had been off her mind

then she met you: the doctor's great-granddaughter, the daughter of susan foreman.

might, just might, end up in a kiss.

the doctor smiles, missy deffo takes a picture and nardole cheers.

YASMIN "YAZ" KHAN

yaz is SO pretty and you can't tell me otherwise

sapphic queen

if you cupped her cheek, she'd hesitate before metling into your touch

her face would heat up and her heart would beat at a million beats a minute

might develop budding feelings for you

sapphic queen (#we were deprived of a thasmin kiss)

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lanawinterscigarettes · 3 months

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You, flirting with The Master/Missy as a distraction: So, is there, like, anyone else in the picture, or...?

The Doctor, whispering furiously from where they'd been trying to sneak past: What the hell are you doing? You're supposed the be distracting them, not flirting with them!

You, whispering back, making no attempt to hide your annoyance: Can't I do both?!

#this suddenly came to me and I thought it was funny so I'm sharing it with everyone #doctor who #the doctor #the master #the doctor x reader #the master x reader #tenth doctor #twelfth doctor #thirteenth doctor #simm!master #missy doctor who #gomez!master #dhawan!master #dhawan!doctor #whittaker!master #doctor who incorrect quotes #mosses random thoughts

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bloody-cupcakes · 1 month

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Okay but imagine a yandere Master/Missy (or even a yandere Doctor). Imagine them defying all laws of time and space to be with their "one true love", someone who doesn't even know they exist

Imagine how terrifying it would be to find out that not only has this person been obsessed with you and has stalking you for months, but they're a literal Timelord. So that means no matter where you go, or what you do, or how far you try to run, they will always find you in the end. Even if you die or escape, they will without a doubt somehow manage to bring you back, just because they love you so much

Bonus points if this crosses over into regenerations, meaning even if you do manage to get away from them there really is nobody who you can trust, because you never know when they're going to come back with a new form

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daydreaming-of-doctor-who · 4 months

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Celebrating Christmas with Simm!Master and Missy:

A/N: This one isn't a request, just me trying to write some Christmas things in celebration of the hollidays. Enjoy and happy hollidays!

Celebrating Christmas with not one, but 2 Masters?! This will be eventful.

You've decorated the place with a Christmas tree, presents, and are baking to make the place smell like chocolate chip cookies.

Since this is the Master's first time getting to celebrate a proper Christmas, you want to make the most out of it for them.

They're both secretly fighting for which one will get your affections the most.

"Oh, look, mistletoe! How convenient! Give us a kiss!"

"No, me first!"

You surprise them with handing them each a present. Honestly, despite what you may think, they weren't expecting to receive anything.

Next it's their turn to hand you a present. They are of course both fighting over which of their's you will open first.

In order to help calm them down after, you put on Christmas movies and specials, explaining it to them with some mugs of hot chocolate.

They enjoy it! After all, they've always had a fascination with TV.

The night ends with you snuggled up between them, fast asleep on the couch.

#the master x reader #simm!master x reader #simm!master #gomez!master #Gomez!Master x reader #missy x reader #the master #doctor who imagines #doctor who reader insert #doctor who headcanons #doctor who

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elf-punk · 5 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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buggyboba · 8 days

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Imagine trying to watch a horror slasher movie with Missy. She would wrap her arm around you, hold you close, then start pointing out inaccuracies of like torture scenes and like the gorey bits. Like ma'am please you are trying to watch the movie.

Finally, you turn to her after a particularly brutal scene that she hasn't said anything about and are like "Well what about that one?"

"No, that's pretty accurate." She nods solemnly. Is she joking? Is she serious? You look at her with a mix of awe and horror, and she kisses your nose with her little smirk.

She gets bored halfway through the movie and focuses on you more intimately. Your focus on the movie goes out the window as you feel her hand on your thigh, her body turned towards yours and that wicked little grin on her lips.

#gomez!master x reader #the master x reader #missy x reader #missy imagine #just a thought i had when i wok up from a nap #doctor who

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agent-barnes40 · 2 months

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The Time Lords

The Master x Reader (Romantic) (Simm to Dhawan) (Platonic with Simm)

The Doctor & Reader (very platonic) (10-13)

Throughout the years, you get close to two very different Time Lords, what happens when they figure out the other?

You watched as The Master aggressively ate the rotisserie chicken you were saving for later. "That was for dinner, man."

"Shut up. I'm still hungry." The Master growled and looked up at you, his hands had started to tap in that four beat method, one you knew all to well.

You groaned and headed for your freezer. "You better pay me back for eating all my food! It's not like I hoard meat."

The Master tilted his head as he watched you walk around the kitchen, grabbing whatever meat items you could. He truly couldn't understand why you weren't scared of him, but again, you weren't scared of him on the Valiant either, even after everything he did to humanity. You stuck at his side, no matter what. You would stick at his side if he had anything to say about it.

The Doctor came to you a few days after The Master had taken off, his arms crossed as he tossed your house key back at you and you smiled, shoving it with the rest of your spare housekeys that you had made for the Time Lords. "Why are you giving me my key back? You planning on leaving?"

The Doctor shook his head, and that's when you noticed the gold shimmering up under his skin. You had been his last stop on his goodbye trip. "Wanted you to give the new me the next one."

You scoffed softly, the smile on your face dropping. "You'll find a spare one in that TARDIS of yours, Doctor. I'll see you in the next face okay?"

Of course, about a year or two later, The Doctor had come back, this time with a redhead and a man who looked like he did not want to be there. "Hold on Ponds. Let me just get the key in."

"Why are we breaking into someone's house anyway?" The redhead could be heard asking him before you opened the door and grinned at the bowtie wearing man.

"Let me guess, found my extra key?" You asked, looking up at The Doctor.

This time, however, you didn't expect to get lifted up in a hug and spun around, a kiss being pressed onto your head as a laugh bubbled out. "Okay! Okay!"

The Doctor let you rest back onto the floor and you held tightly onto him as the world spun, a grin you hadn't seen in years on his face. "Hey pinstripe. How long has it been for you?"

"The end of the world, literally." The Doctor said and you laughed again, knowing to take his words at their value.

"Of course, the world dying would get you to finally come back to me."

The Ponds stood still outside your door, and you turned to them. "Hi! Sorry for forgetting about you guys. He doesn't bring companions around much anymore."

The Doctor gave your arm a squeeze and you smiled at him. "Ah, okay. Should I give them keys too?"

"I mean you are the designated companion and time lord safe house." The Doctor said and you tilted your head softly.

"You might have a woman with big poufy hair show up. I gave her a key and your coordinates."

"Is it River again?"

The redhead sputtered a minute. "How do you know River?"

You got a mischievous look in your eyes that The Doctor definitely didn't like. "Spoilers, Pond."

The Master, well O, had started to show up after Bowtie had disappeared for a while. He needed help setting up an alias and wanted you as a good middle ground for him and the Doctor. "I am only setting you up with a Whatsapp, and then that's it, Master. I do not want to be in this scheme."

Of course time doesn't ever go linear for anyone who is friends with two time lords and a day later, The Master showed up on your doorstep, holding a key.

"Does he just keep giving those out? How is he getting more?" You asked running your hands over your face and The Master laughed softly.

"I have no clue poppet but.. I did snag it out of his pocket." The Master spoke and grabbed your hand. You recognized the outfit she was wearing.

"Why are you dressed like Mary Poppins had an evil daughter?" You asked and The Master stood there for a minute, a shocked look on her face.

"Now excuse me." The Time Lord said and you rose a brow.

"You are literally dressed like Mary Poppins but evil, Master."

The Master scrunched her face up and waved her hand in your face. "Its The Mistress, or for you, it can be Missy."

You grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "Of course, Missy."

Of course, Bowtie had started showing up more, and then he just didn't and a teary eyed Amy Pond stood at your door and all you did was open your arms and was crushed into a hug by the woman and you just held her. "H-He's dead!"

"Oh no, he's not. Our Doctor doesn't die. He cheats death. He's done it a million times, Pond." You don't know when you picked up his nickname for her but it backfired and she started to sob even louder.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll keep you Pond's safe okay?"

O texted you one day, sending a photo of the cubes on the ground with a warning. 'Don't pick them up, love.'

You promptly ignored him and brought a singular one into your house, and sent a photo back. 'Make me, Master'

The texting between you and The Master picked up after that and suddenly you had a greying Doctor at your door, and he looked so upset. "What's wrong, Doctor?"

"How do you always know it's me?" He quietly asked and you opened your arms for him, just like you had done for so many of his past regenerations and his companions.

"Come here."

The Doctor hesitates and you close your arms. "Not a hugging face this time?"

He shook his head and you laughed softly. "Okay, grumpy. What do you want to do?

"An adventure?" He asked, it wasn't the first time he had asked you. It definitely wont be the last if you decline.

This time however, you reached a hand out. "Lets go run, Doctor."

Apparently running meant never going back home. Running meant seeing things you thought you were ready to see and running meant staying to comfort Clara and The Doctor when things got rough. Clara didn't show up at your door much but when she had, it was bad.

This time she showed up at your door in The TARDIS, eyes red and sniffling and all you had to do was open the door and she was collapsing in your arms. You knew what had happened, Missy had messaged you. Danny Pink was dead.

Missy had started to rile up The Doctor and you groaned. "He's married, robot!"

She twisted her head to look at you, starting to scan her eyes over you. "Are you in need of funeral services?"

You had recognized that look in her eyes and you rolled your eyes. "Yeah, for that grump you had pressed against the wall."

The Doctor watched as you and MISSI tossed flirts back and forth. "You know she's just a robot right?"

You rolled your eyes again. "And yet didn't you have an android boyfriend, Doctor? I could have a robot girlfriend."

"Not one that looks like Mary Poppins."

You couldn't stifle the snort that aggressively left your throat as you finally started to laugh at the absurdness of the situation. You had rubbed off on the Time Lord and Missy finally called for Chang.

Chang had started to crumble under the weight of acting so quickly when the bodies started to turn into Cybermen. You leaned against the wall, looking between everyone as The Doctor started to scramble. He looked at you and held his hand out and you rushed to follow him, Missy sending you a wink.

Cybermen had started to pour out of the building and you just watched. Missy had used the handle of her umbrella to pull your wrist away from the panicking Doctor. "Sorry, pet. Gotta keep up appearances."

You rolled your eyes as she held something phone shaped to your head. "Take me on a date first, Missy."

She hummed and pressed a kiss onto your cheek, leaving a print of her lipstick there. "Only if you ask nicely."

You recognized Osgood from a mile away and smiled at her scarf. Missy looked absolutely upset at being asked for a picture as The Doctor watched. You were roughly pulled from Missy's grip by him when the UNIT soldiers started to come up.

You had to ignore the mass amounts of messages you had started to get, your phone was blowing up with messages from O and you had to ignore them. You knew he was only acting worried, he knew what happens, if your assumptions were correct.

The Doctor looked at you and scanned you. "Are you okay?"

You smiled and squeezed his hand. "Of course, Doctor. Who else could have a weapon pressed to their head and be fine?"

He rose a brow and huffed softly. "Literally no one, are you sure your fine?"

"A make up wipe would be nice."

Missy waved a hand. "Front pocket, Love."

The UNIT soldiers watched as you reached into her front pocket through her skirts and pulled the wipes out. "Thanks, Mary Poppins."

She huffed as Clara came over to help you wipe off the lipstick and it just wouldn't come off. "You have to say the magic words, poppet."

You groaned, and all your acting fell apart. "Oh come on, Missy! Just let me wipe your lipstick off this time."

"Only for my favorite human!" The Time Lady snapped her fingers and you swiped the wipe over her lipstick mark and removed it.

The Doctor watched, his brows furring as you went to shove the wipes back into Missy's pocket. His hand reached out and stopped you from moving. "You know her."

You shrugged. "She's just pretty! Who else can say they flirted with an evil time Lord?"

"No, you asked her to let you wipe off her lipstick again." The Doctor pressed and you looked over to Missy.

You mouthed a sorry before looking back at The Doctor. "I am the Time Lord and Companion safe house, Doctor. You didn't specify which Time Lords."

The Doctor dropped his grip on you so quickly and you crossed your arms. "Well, this is the last I'll be seeing of this face, I can tell."

You turned to Kate, a smile on your face for the woman. "Can I get a ride home? I doubt Angry Brows over there will give me a ride home right now."

Missy huffed. "If he cared for you so little, then why does he still show up at your doors?"

You rolled your eyes and looked at her. "Because I'm the only one, aside from himself, you, and UNIT, that knows everything."

Kate looked between you and Missy and finally asked. "Who is she?"

You and Missy spoke in unison.

"She's the queen of evil."

"Queen of evil."

Of course you weren't allowed to go back home, or at least back to the TARDIS. You were sat in the presidential airplane and The Doctor looked at you. "How long have you had her in your house?"

You scoffed. "You think I had her living with me? She found her own place, or TARDIS to live. You're the one who let her steal your key!"

He groaned and shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling around for the key to your house and then held it up. "No I didn't."

You groaned and let your head drop to the table. "Time is never ever linear between the two of you, I swear!"

Your phone buzzed and you finally pulled it out of your pocket and you looked up at The Doctor after reading the text. You quickly clicked your phone off and stood up. "I need to talk to Missy."

"No. You are going to stay here." The Doctor ordered and you stilled for a moment.

"I'm not a companion, Doctor. I'm not under your duty of care." You snapped and headed for where they were holding Missy and The TARDIS. You knew Osgood was dead, at least one of the Osgood's at least.

You never expected Clara to show up your front door, and one look at her eyes told you everything. "Your dead, aren't you?"

"How'd you know?" She asked as she stepped in.

"Because he showed up. He kept asking about you. It broke my heart, Clars. I'm gonna miss you." You said, pulling out her regular drink choices and stopped when someone stepped in behind Clara.

"Sorry, Time Lords and Companion's only. I don't supply much for anyone else except for myself." You still had everyone's food choices in your fridge, time was never linear with anyone who traveled with The Doctor, so you kept buying food that you knew probably wouldn't get eaten.

You were in the middle of reading a book when you heard the TARDIS and you groaned, you turned to look at the box appearing in the corner. "Do you have to always park inside the house? I made you a designated parking spot outside!"

You watched as a greying man stepped out and your face scrunched. "Uhm, Hello! You do not give the vibe of The Doctor."

"Someone who gets it!" The man shouted back into the box.

"I knew they would!" A woman shouted back and you groaned.

"Doctor! Come on out!" You got up and placed your book to the side.

A blond haired woman stepped out, her hands in her pockets and she spun. "What do ya think?"

You smiled. "You got the upgrade Missy was talking about!"

"Yeah.. You aren't confused?" The Doctor asked and you laughed a small bit.

"Your always going to be The Doctor! It doesn't matter what your body presents, your always my favorite Doctor." You smiled even wider and held your arms out.

"First hug?" You asked.

The Doctor rushed toward you and you practically crushed each other in a hug. You missed The Doctor's hugs, sure you had one a couple of days ago but this was a completely new face hug. You loved a completely new face hug.

The rest of the people come flooding out of The TARDIS and you looked over at them. You pointed over to your bowl of keys. "Take one, all of you."

You pulled back, turning to look at The Doctor. Your face dropped at the look on her face. "I am not housing all of them, I housed the Ponds and Clara!"

The Doctor shook her head. "Not about The Fam-"

"I thought we agreed to not use that!" The group said in unison and you laughed.

"Can I get names real quick, of this group?" You asked, gesturing to them.

The Doctor quickly introduced you to Yaz, (cause the two of you were friends now) Ryan, and Graham. You looked back toward The Doctor who grabbed your hand. "Doctor, what's wrong?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Just uhm, Missy's dead." The Doctor said and you nodded.

"Okay, yeah. She'll show up eventually. New face, like you. She always has in the past."

"The ship exploded. She's gone, gone. I don't think she had a way off."

"Oh, okay. Well, uh.. Who wants drinks? Not alcohol but drinks none the less."

You avoided the look The Doctor was giving you and focused on Yaz, Ryan, and Graham. "If you just got stuff off The TARDIS, thats okay. I'm the designated Time Lord and Companion safe house, if any of you are in danger, have no housing, anything really.. I am your person. I have a list of foods you guys can add onto and I'll get it."

Graham gave you a sad look. "You were with this Missy, weren't you?"

You shrugged. "Situationship. She was mine but I don't think I'd ever fully be hers, we weren't exclusive but she was mine."

You nodded a little bit, reassuring yourself and you felt your phone buzz and you held your hand up, pulling your phone out and looking at the text O sent you. The Doctor always had a habit of peeking over shoulders and looked at the contact name. "You know O?"

You whipped to look at her so quickly. "Yeah, old friend."

Your TV lit up with the faces of Graham, Yaz, and Ryan labelling them as wanted criminals and you quickly dialed The Doctor. "I need you to pick up! Pick up!"

The call went to voicemail and you quickly dialed O. The Time Lord picked up instantly. "Hello Love, I see you saw my work with your friends."

"What did you do? O, I need to know." You demanded and you looked up when the front door was tossed open.

The Master grinned at you, tapping on the smartphone to end the call as he stalked over. He was in a suit and you instinctively stepped back. "Don't be so scared, Love. I'd never hurt you."

You shook your head. "I'm not scared of you. I'm scared of your plan. What are you doing to The Doctor?"

"She's currently with Ada Lovelace. Come on. I was coming to pick you up anyway." The Master had grabbed your wrist and started to direct you to the shack outside.

"You better not have landed on my car, Master. I'm gonna kill you if you did."

"I didn't. You human's and your vehicles." The Master grumbled and you scoffed.

"You Time Lord's and your vehicles! Do you know how many times I have had to replace chairs because you couldn't park right?" You snapped, letting him drag you into his TARDIS.

You rose a brow at the messiness of it all. "Missy would be throwing a fit right now. She kept the vault spotless, Master. How did this happen?"

The Master groaned and looked over at you. "Had to pretend to be human, love. I have to be messy."

You stared at him. "When you move in, you aren't trashing my house like this."

The Master started to pilot his TARDIS to 1834. He turned to look over at you, mid spin. "Move in?"

"Gotcha. I can't exactly move out of the safe house, I have to keep everyone safe, you know." You said, already moving toward the wardrobe, The Doctor had one and you knew The Master always had to one up them.

"You'll be moving in with me. We can change the exterior of my TARDIS to look like your house!" The Master shouted after you and you laughed.

"Do you think thats a good idea?" You called back.

"Anything for you!"

"Aww, you do have a soft side, Master."

That soft side did not last long and you were in the middle of two screaming Time Lords. You held your arms out, keeping the two separated. The Doctor had taken a deep breath in between her yells to look at how you were dressed and how you were trying to convince The Master to calm down.

"Did you know?" The Doctor asked and you turned to look at her.

"What do you mean, Doctor?"

"Did you know?" The Doctor asked again, this time emphasizing each word and The Master tightened his grip on the TCE at her tone.

Your face softened a soft bit. "Yes. I promised to be truthful with you after the 3W incident. I knew he was O. I set up his WhatsApp. I didn't know anything else. I didn't know the plan. I told him to keep me out of it."

"And you didn't think to tell me?" The Doctor practically yelled and you rose a brow.

"Oh yeah, let me just tell you that your old friend is actually the Time Lady you kept locked up in your basement. The Scotsman would've eyebrowed me to death!" You snapped.

The Master looked at you. This was new information. The Doctor had her mouth opening and closing as she chose her next words.

You shook your head. "I know when The Master or Missy is even involved, you get like this. Didn't expect you to get this mad though. I should've known. This is why I never told you about Missy and I, or the fact that he showed up after the year that never was, before you regenerated. You all entwined me into this keep away game. After this is all over. I'm leaving. Unit or you can have my house, keep it open for the companions but I'm done, Doctor. I can't have a life without it being one of the two of you."

The Master watched you and then he grabbed your wrist and pulled you behind him. The Doctor instinctively stepped back at the rage in his eyes. "Master! This has nothing to do with just her. Its the both of you and you both know it. Now! Shut up, play nice, and get me home. You two can kill each other to your hearts contents when I get a new place."

The two Time-Lords realized very quickly your anger was placed on the both of them and not just one. They both needed you. The one constant both have had throughout their regenerations and they both had lost you.

#Dhawan!Master x reader #Missy x Reader #Gomez!Master x reader #Cade's Doctor Who writing #Cade writes for Doctor Who #The Doctor x reader #Doctor Who x reader

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multifandomfix · 1 year

Text

Imagine Missy getting possessive of you.

Missy clenched her jaw, steely eyes taking in the interaction between you and your so called friend. Too cozy for her liking. She really shouldn’t intervene. You’d be angry, she knew, but could you really expect her to stand by idly?

As soon as you heard the heels clicking in your direction, your blood turned to ice in your veins. “Go,” you directed. “We’ll talk later,” you promised your friend. You could see the look of confusion as it crossed their face, but you didn’t have the time to explain. “Please.”

You heaved a sigh of relief as your friend turned away and began to walk off. “Mmm, spoiling all my fun today, aren’t you, pet?” Missy’s voice came from behind you and arms wrapped around your middle, her chin settling on your shoulder.

Her hands began to roam their way around your body. “Must I remind you again who you belong to?” Your heart leapt to your throat. How was it that you fell for it every time, this possessive streak of hers? Though really, there was no sense in fighting it.

For @leonorasbabygirl

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @icetown587, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist

Missy: @marril96, @danzalladaggers, @casserole-from-dads-asserole, @little-bean99, @littlefoxgirl-13, @becomingthedreamversionofme, @chaos-and-food, @callsigncrash, @mxacegrey, @unsubologyy, @neurodiverse-dumpingground, @phantomofclownery, @sammus-white, @lokabrenna0801, @m-rae23, @geekyandgay98

#missy #missy imagine #missy x reader #gomez!master #doctor who #doctor who imagine #request

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how-masterful · 9 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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glossyybabie · 6 months

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epilogue

part 17 || part 18 || part 19

Summary: You’re free. You’re actually free.

Warnings: Kidnapping. PTSD. An asshole of a psychiatrist.

Word count: 1893

Notes: I nearly threw up coughing as I edited this. That would’ve been dreadful, especially after how long I spent perfecting this lil bit.

You jolted in a way that made your spine lurch forward unnaturally. A feeling of static burrowed and splintered its way towards the surface of your skin, prickling at your eyeballs and just about any other expanse of soft tissue. Like dust, it softly collapsed away from you, and then you were still, and it was silent. You opened your eyes.

Your gloved hands were still clutching the steering wheel of your car. Little puffs of cloudy air left your mouth. You were restrained only by your seatbelt across your chest. That marked, scarred body of yours was soothed by the familiar fabrics of your clothes.

You went still. Your hands slowly lowered from the steering wheel as you gradually turned around in your seat as far as your seatbelt would allow. Your belongings were gathered to one side of the backseat. Just as you had left them. Just as you had left everything. Even yourself.

You sat forward again and twisted your keys in the ignition. The engine hummed to life with the same abruptness as the twitchy radio. You glanced around the empty, narrow road you were parked beside. There were no street lamps, signs of life, or buildings that emitted any light. Just an empty field.

Carefully, slowly, you began to drive forward. It was as if you expected someone to stop you — someone specific — but nothing, no one, did. You began to increase in speed. The road eventually twisted out onto the nearest motorway. Other cars drove alongside yours. Still, no one stopped you. There was no one to stop you.

You barricaded yourself into your own home that night. Your windows were tied shut with rope, creating knots you only knew how to tie from your recent experiences with crude restraints. You wouldn’t sleep that night. You didn’t sleep for many nights after that.

You refused to stop and take a moment to think and analyse your situation, because then you would have to face the question of why Missy would have ever allowed you to win. Had you really won her over? Had you really escaped her clutches? And how permanent would this feeling ever be?

You didn’t feel like you deserved the freedom you’d been granted. This was a punishment of its own. Missy was everywhere. In your mind, you could see her, in the darkened silhouettes of pedestrians after nightfall, in just about every shade of dark purple you encountered, in your own reflections through every window and mirror. Her existence ate away at your insides until you were a hollow, rotten mess.

Sometimes you wrote those feelings down in a calendar, like a reverse countdown since you were granted freedom, if you could call it that. Apparently it was a very good way to compartmentalise your thoughts, or evaluate your emotions, or some kind of drivel like that. It was the idea of one of your first psychiatrists.

Going back to work was difficult, as was learning to adapt to life and routine. It took you a month to muster the courage to face a small errand run alone, and two to buy groceries last minute after dark.

After three months, you finally stopped sealing yourself into your home during the day. It took you five months to sleep without furniture blocking your bedroom door at night. And it was silly — you knew you were being obsessive, and you knew that Missy would have no issue finding some other way inside if need be. That sense of security was only for show, to soothe your brain for even a second or two.

According to your psychiatrists, you were coping astonishingly well. You didn’t feel the same. There was plenty they didn’t know. Like how you hadn’t slept properly even once since you’d returned, or that you still felt genuine pangs of pain in the areas your horrific wounds had once been situated in — areas completely clear and mark-free — or that you hadn’t actually socialised with anyone since. You hadn’t been able to. No friends, no family. You were arguably more alone than you’d been before.

Nine months in, and you had successfully braved a road trip across the country alone to celebrate Christmas. You saw people you hadn’t in a long time. And then a couple of days later, you started the long journey back, following the strategically calculated route your satnav had given you.

You didn’t even slow as your car passed the spot. Although you had gripped your steering wheel so tightly that one of your fingernails snapped agonisingly in half.

But you were normal again. And it was right.

–oOo–

“Now, let’s talk about these halluci–”

“They weren’t hallucinations,” you said firmly. “They were real. They happened.”

“Okay,” Dr Keller held his hands out, his tone velvety and soft in an attempt to subdue your outburst, “okay. These events. Shall we go from where we last left off?”

He clicked his biro pen and sat back in his chair patiently. You didn’t like your psychiatrists — appointments were anything but honest and validating — but Dr Keller was one of the only ones who’d allow you to speak your mind completely before accusing your claims to be false, some kind of trauma coping mechanism or misinterpreted memory.

You swallowed, your foot tapping against the floor. He scrawled this observation down in his notepad. He was always very thorough in his examinations of you and your unusual mental state.

“I was in a library,” you began.

“A library,” he repeated, his head muffled against the open page in front of him. “Could you describe this library?”

“There were books. Loads of books. The most books I’ve ever seen in one place.” Your gaze moved to the glass of water on the table beside you. The fluid inside was unnaturally still. “And she was there.”

He paused, as if waiting for you to continue. “She being–”

“Missy.” You flinched. Her name left a stinging, sour taste on your tongue. “Yes.”

“Did she speak to you?” You nodded your head in response. “What did she say?”

“She said . . .” You stared at your palms. They were sore and red with self-inflicted scratches from your fingernails. “She said, ‘How poetic’.”

Dr Keller looked up, his thick grey eyebrows creased in bemusement. “Was this in response to a previous conversation? Or simply a comment?”

“Missy can read minds,” you told him.

You knew it sounded far fetched. It was the most unrealistic part of your experience. It was the detail that had every specialist you’d spoken to pulling the same face — an expression of false understanding that masked a deep layer of blatant alarm. You patiently waited for the day you’d be committed.

But he simply nodded. “She can read minds? Telepathically?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“And what were you thinking?” he asked. “What was she replying to?”

“I was thinking about . . . how dangerous she was. Even when she was sitting still at the other end of the room, I didn’t feel safe. She wasn’t even holding a weapon. She didn’t need to. Some of her best work was done without a weapon,” you drawled. Sometimes instilling your voice with some nonchalance and some uncaring dryness did wonders to fool your own brain into behaving the same. “She never let me die. She wasn’t finished ‘playing’ with me.”

Dr Keller continued to take notes. You doubted he’d take today’s session any further than that — you didn’t need a mirror to see the absolute disarrayed state even speaking about Missy had left you in. You could go home, scrub yourself clean in the shower until you were red and raw, sleep, work, and repeat this session again next week.

The clock on the wall chimed softly, signifying the end of the hour. The sound of it always managed to drag you out of any dark reverie. Like clockwork, you stood up and began to reach for your belongings.

“I don’t have any other appointments today,” Dr Keller told you. You froze with a hand on your bag. “And I’d like us to spend some more time on this, if that’s okay with you.”

You turned your head, your deep set frown saying all that needed to be said. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Because you aren’t like any other patient I have seen before. Because your case is one I am determined to crack.”

“I’m a case to crack,” you concluded. You pursed your lips to conceal your mild annoyance that threatened to become distress. Breaking down in front of anyone was always mortifying.

At first, he didn’t have a reply ready. He froze, mildly taken aback — maybe he could see that his words had upset you — but then his mouth twitched into the smallest of smiles.

“In the case of traumatic events, the human brain reacts in some extreme ways,” he began. He picked up the plastic model brain from his desk and held it up in his right hand for you to see. “Events can be remembered completely differently to how they originally transpired. Details can be changed drastically.”

You reluctantly sat back down with a small huff. You didn’t want to listen to this once again — yet another “explanation” for your “nightmares”, “hallucinations”, and “visions”. You knew what you’d experienced. It was real, you knew it. Even if no one else ever would.

Dr Keller placed his notepad down on the coffee table. His eyes flitted to the door, his gaze narrowing, but then he turned back to you. His expression returned with full confidence, as amiable as ever.

You didn’t respond with any kind of friendliness, not even fabricated. You looked to the door just as he had, as if you expected to see something strange or suspicious. Maybe there would be his next client outside. But he had no more appointments today . . .

You looked back at him. He was patient, waiting for your attention once more.

“But in your case, my dear . . .”

He leaned forward in his chair. The small smile he wore stretched out into a grin.

“. . . that squishy brain of yours changed nothing at all.”

You were up on your feet and moving towards the door faster than you thought was instinctively possible. The silhouette the light from the window cast against the door of the office wasn’t just your own. A woman was behind you, shoulders ruler straight and figure tucked away into an unmoving corset, her hair twirled into an effortless updo.

That was when you fell, and from there the writhing sensation under your skin never stopped. You were pushed head-first into impenetrable darkness. The empty space was winding its way around your neck like a noose. Your screams became strangled choking sounds the further you fell and the greater your efforts were to desperately squirm into something, anything at all. You had to wake up. This was a dream, a bad dream, and you could wake yourself up from it.

And then it all just stopped.

Your view changed so abruptly that it filled you with a sense of nauseating deja vu. You couldn’t remember the darkness anymore. You couldn’t properly recall the way it had engulfed you whole from the moment you’d gone tumbling down.

But you did remember everything else. Your appointment. Dr Keller.

‘Dr Keller’ herself pulled up a chair, grinning from ear to ear. “Wasn’t that just brilliant?”

---

No, the story’s not actually over. Not at all. I just like to cause problems and gaslight readers the way Missy would teehee

#doctor who #doctor who x reader #missy x reader #doctor who missy #reader insert #bbc doctor who #the master x reader #doctor who master #missy #strange lack of missy content sad face #obey your mistress

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beenthere-donethat · 9 months

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The Doctor's name

Yesterday i had an epiphany.

I was re-watching Doctor Who, for like the 4th time and then, just like that, i came up with this absurde but brilliant theory: we actually know his name.

Spoiler alert

Years ago i read a theory about why in the episode "school reunion" (ss3, ep3) the Doctor repeats the world 'physics' so much. We know that the TARDIS can't translate the language of Gallifrey. But people have to understand what he is saying(in this case the students). Being unable to translate what he was actually saying(for the language and the complexity of the argument) she translated it with something more simple: physics.

Somewhere along the history, it was revealed the name the Doctor used in academy, Theta Sigma. I don't think it is his actual name, because then everyone can know it and use it.

Also, the Doctor himself said that ONLY children can understand his real name.

If you connect the dots, it is really, really simple.

When in the the 11episode of the 10season, Missy says "Doctor who" is the Doctro's name, it's because it fucking is!!

The TARDIS can't translate gallifreyan(?)for reasons. So when the Doctor says his name is The Doctor, he IS saying his name.

It is the same principle like with "physics": he IS saying something, maybe in gallifreyan, but the TARDIS makes it something else, something simple for us to understand. So, the same happens with the Doctor's name: it is translated into something we can understand, something that is near to our translation. The Doctor.

Children know his name, they understand it, they say it. It's just we can't understand it. We can't because....just because!! It is against the law.

Everyone knows his name, but it is different because that's what we hear when he says it!

"Who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor"

"Doctor who?"

"Just, just THE DOCTOR"

Always Missy, she says that he eliminated "who" from his name (so originally it was The Doctor Who) cause he didn't like it.

So,as the example above, he is correcting us on his name. His actual name, cause he erased Who.

In conclusion, i hope it makes sense, aaaaand WE ALWAYS HAD HIS NAME UNDER OUR NOSE!!!!

WE ARE SOOO STUPID.

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lanawinterscigarettes · 3 months

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"oh but missy/the master is evil and they'd either manipulate you or use you as a pawn for their own selfish enjoyment at best before tossing you aside if they didn't kill you first" have you every considered that like I'm different and special though. And they would sense this and not want to kill me and love me forever

#guys im not like everyone else seriously /j #even if they do kill me then okay. if i die i die 🤷#doctor who #missy doctor who #the master #the master doctor who #the master x reader #mosses random thoughts

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bloody-cupcakes · 1 month

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Yandere/dark Missy/Gomez! Master x reader; she fingers you while you're trying to sleep

Tw: yandere/dark content, noncon/dubcon, nsfw/smut, mean femdom, afab reader, vaginal fingering, implied kidnapping/Stockholm syndrome, Missy uses pet names for the reader (in a degrading way) such as poppet, pet, and love, Missy refers to herself as Mummy and Mistress, the reader refers to Missy as Mommy several times and Mistress once

You were curled up, sleeping soundly in the bed you shared with Missy, something that she'd insisted after affectively taking you from your home with no intention of returning you. You were wearing a very loose and baggy t-shirt as pajamas, with nothing underneath. She'd insisted on that, too.

Actually, she'd originally suggested you wear nothing to bed at all, but there were some places where you had to draw the line. Missy thought it was cute how you tried to make yourself seem intimidating and no nonsense when she brought it up; despite your best efforts, it was hard for her to take you seriously.

Still, she wanted to make you feel as though you had at least some control over the situation (even if you really didn't), so she relented and agreed that you were allowed to wear one article of clothing to sleep in. You were certain the TARDIS wardrobe had much more options to choose from, but the selection she gave you was small, so you were stuck with what you got.

It was bad enough being forced to wear so little, and the cold temperature in the room certainly didn't help. You'd pressed your body as close to hers on the bed as possible in hopes of staying warm, not missing the amused chuckle she'd let out when you did so.

After what seemed like ages you were finally able to fall asleep, but your moment of peaceful bliss didn't last very long when you felt Missy's meticulously manicured nails drag across the skin of your upper thigh. You tried to ignore it, but it became harder and harder the further up her fingers creeped.

You let out a sigh of relief when she pulled her hand away, but you should've know she wouldn't stop there; a few minutes later her hand returned, pulling your t-shirt up to your stomach. Although you couldn't see it, you could just imagine the way she was most likely grinning with glee at your most sensitive area being exposed for her own personal enjoyment.

"My, my, poppet, what a pretty little thing you are underneath that dreadful old piece of fabric," she cooed as she began to tease your folds with her fingertips. You cursed yourself inwardly for just how wet you'd already gotten, as that was something you definitely wouldn't be able to hide from her in this moment.

"N- No more, Missy... 'm tryin' to sleep..." You mumbled out tiredly, attempting to shift your body away from hers on the bed. She tsked at you in disapproval, using her free hand to wrap around your hip and hold you in place.

"Now, now, stay still for me, poppet." Her thumb brushed teasingly over your throbbing clit, drawing a pathetic whimper from your lips. "After all, you're Mummy's pet now, and as such, I expect you to behave. Do you understand?"

Whining desperately, you nodded your head, no longer trying to get away as you realized it would do you more harm than good. "Yes, Mommy." Your voice sounded so timid and meek, just like she'd hoped for.

"What a good pet you are for Mummy." She decided to "reward" you by plunging two of her fingers into your dripping hole, giggling in amusement at the cries of protest that came from you.

"M- Mommy- Mommy, it's too much-" You squirmed around on the bed as she held you firmly against her, thrusting her fingers in and out of you at an unforgiving pace.

"Shh, love, you're alright. Mummy's got you," Missy murmured affectionately in your ear, her hand caressing your hip gently. "If you do well for your Mistress, I'll let you go back to sleep afterwards, okay?"

All you could do was nod in agreement, too overwhelmed to string a real sentence together. "Please, Mommy..." You babbled out almost incoherently, trying to move your hips up to meet where her fingers were. "Mommy- Mommy, please..."

"Stay still, poppet. Mummy didn't give you her permission to move, now did she?" She spoke to you in a firm tone, scolding your disobedience. Her fingers moved deeper inside you as she brought her thumb back up to your clit, rubbing there harshly.

Your back arched upwards as pants and moans exited your mouth uncontrollably. Tears of desperation filled your eyes as the feeling of pleasure became too much. "I'm sorry, Mommy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"You should really learn to obey your Mistress," she continued as if you hadn't even spoken, her grip on the side of your body becoming almost painful as she held you in place. "Mummy doesn't like having to be mean, pet, you know that."

You whimpered loudly in response, staying as still as you possibly could. "Yes, Mistress," you said in a soft and quiet voice, biting your lip as you tried to muffle your pitiful sounds.

"Good, love. Stay still for Mummy." She smirked at the way your body tensed up as you started getting close, your eyes looking up at hers pitifully as you searched for her acceptance. "Oh, alright. Since you've done so well for me despite your brief moments of misbehaving, you can cum."

Letting out a high pitched whine, you finished on her fingers, your cum covering her hand. She carefully pulled her fingers out from inside you, holding them up to your mouth. "Open," she commanded, not even giving you the chance to part your lips fully before shoving them inside.

You gagged some at first due to the sudden intrusion, your tears from earlier finally making their way out of your eyes and streaming down your cheeks. Knowing what she wanted, you sucked on her fingers, cleaning them off from where you'd unintentionally gotten them dirty when you came.

"Good pet," she praised in a loving way, pulling her fingers out of your mouth with a soft pop. She then let go of your hip and used her hands to pull your shirt back down over your body, leaning over to press a soft kiss to your head once she was done. "There you are, love. Go back to sleep now."

She didn't have to tell you twice. You rolled over onto your side and cuddled up close to her, nuzzling your face into her chest as you got comfortable again. You soon fell back asleep, drifting off to the sound of Missy humming some old Gallifrean lullaby.

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raz-writes-the-thing · 4 months

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ok ok ok we’ve had some talk about the master, but have you considered. missy. femdom missy. please i want her so bad

-🍓 (ophelia)

Hey hey, Ophelia-

I- look don't hate me for this- but at this current point in time (first watch through of Capaldi's run) I am not a huge Missy fan

Like, I like her- but she's not my type yknow?

Having said that-

Here's some Missy nsfw hcs just for you, cutie

Missy is definitely a switch. But not a subby switch- a complete brat. But having said that, it's very rare that she's not overly dominant.

Missy? The biggest fan of incorporating sex and food. Whipped cream, chocolate, even bacon. Honestly, nothing is too weird for her.

That goes for everything else, too. Literally nothing is too weird.

She has a thing for using her partners as human furniture.

She also has a thing for being eaten out while she's working. She likes to be serviced.

"Oh, come on, dear- you can do better than that."

Let's put it this way- her partner would need to have a thing for being mildly to moderately humiliated.

She does also like to take photos and videos of you being sexy for her.

This woman is incredible at giving head, but she only does it as a "reward" for being good for her. She also absolutely prefers to receive and will put her hands on your head to keep you exactly where she wants you and your tongue.

Missy enjoys edging you until you cry and will take immense pleasure in pushing you to your limits.

#missy x reader #the master #the master x reader #doctor who reader insert #doctor who imagines #asked and answered #missy doctor who

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elf-punk · 12 days

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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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