Summary: soulmate au where you can hear each others thoughts >w<
Warnings: dunno, use of y/n, and this is the master we're talking about, reader is v selfdeprecating?
A/N: pt 2, here is the link for part 1
You slept even less the next two five, than you had since the noise in your head had started. If you weren’t in the library, going over every book the doctor had on soulmates – or anything even partly related to it, you were tossing and turning in your bed, thoughts and questions filling your mind and leaving you unable to leave wakefulness behind.
Surely, the others must have noticed. You rarely saw them, denied every request for an outing, and on the odd occasion you did meet one in the kitchen or the hallway, you were pretty sure they mistook you for a ghost at first. Who had time to brush their hair and change their clothes, when they had to unearth the greatest mystery of their life? Oh yeah, and those dark circles under your eyes from lack of sleep probably didn’t help either.
Groaning, you realized you had fallen asleep over a book in the library. With the neck pain to thank you for it, and a thudding in your head that seemed impossibly louder. As you tried stretching out your neck and limbs, you realized, thanks to the insistent whirring of the tardis around you, that it was her who had woken you up. Another groan left your mouth as you reluctantly got up and trotted down the hallway with heavy steps. She had shortened the way for you, you realized a second later than it normally would have taken you, because suddenly you were in the bridge, face to face with a cross-armed doctor. She was leaning onto the console.
“You called?” You tried – and failed – to suppress a yawn. Your arms wrapped around you, half to comfort yourself, half mirroring the doctors stance. Who was seriously starting to freak you out with her stern expression and silence.
“You’re different.” An accusation. A forceful poke, but not a question in itself. Perhaps you’d have preferred she stayed silent. “What is going on?” Ah. There it was.
She was different too. Before, she would have let you be. That’s what you had liked. All the travel, none the poking-into-matters like ‘soulmates’ and ‘what you’re really feeling inside’.
She pushed herself off of the console, agitatedly walking back and forth. You weren’t saying anything, not because you didn’t know what to say but because your mind was processing at the speed of, well, what’s slower than slow?
And hers was running at the usual lightyears a mile. “Why are you acting so…” She tried finding the right words as her arms wildly swung around. “obsessed?”
“You know it’s a miracle you even eat, that once in a while. When’s the last time you slept? The last time you took care of yourself? Talked to somebody?” She probably listed a dozen more things, but your mind had stuck unto the sleep question, and as you realized she had been staring at you, quiet, for probably longer than you’d realized, you blurted out an accusing, “Well, if somebody hadn’t sent off to fetch me I probably would still be sleeping right now.”
She did not look impressed.
“And why are you acting so weird, anyway?” You pouted, “Since when do you do….” One of your hands made weird, vague motions in front of you. “This?”
“the fam is worried, and honestly so am I.” ah. So it was her companions influence.
Where were they even?
“They’re home right now, it’s just you and me. I thought you’d be more comfortable that way. You haven’t really known them all that long. I know that.” She didn’t sound like the Doctor, she sounded like a copy of, her companions perhaps. “Is that what’s wrong? You don’t like them?”
You exhaled forcibly. “That’s what you’re all worried about?” Your hands ran through your face, first down, then up and pushing strands of hair away.
“I care about you.” It was probably the first time she’d voiced it aloud, with those exact words, in all the time you’d travelled together. It never needed to be said, you knew she did. As did she, that you did for her.
“I know. I’m sorry.” You pulled the semblances of yourself together. “It’s nothing like that, okay? The fam is fine, you’re fine.”
“You’ve been reading about soulmates.” Again, a statement. That, this time, reached you so forcefully it almost knocked you off your feet.
The “What?” that left your mouth was all fallen expression and no voice.
“Is that… Are you…” She started her sentence, and again, but both times never seemed to know where to go with it, or how to pull through. Not that it mattered because the words hadn’t left her lips for long when her eyes fell to where your hand rested on your arm, half hugging yourself, half crossed arms, in a weird display of the mixed emotions that swirled around inside you.
“What are you doing?” Rarely had you seen the doctors whole demeanor shift like that. In the blink of an eye, with a darkness in her voice and eyes that had never been directed at you before. Anger bubbling and sizzling beneath the surface, like a volcano about to erupt.
You took an involuntary step back. “What do you-?” Your eyes followed hers, and on your arm, your fingers were tapping the rhythm that had been present inside of you merciless and unrelenting, for the past many days. You had caught yourself doing it, here and there, in the library while reading, or while waiting for your toast to be done, but this must be the first time it had happened, unbeknownst to you, in front of the doctor. You stopped immediately.
“What do you mean? It’s a nervous tic.” You tried explaining.
Sometimes, the doctor was hard to read. Right now, she swung wildly between unreadable and obvious, just like her expression which clearly held disbelief in her eyes, but also loosened up in its ferocity.
“You’ve never done it before. Where’d you pick it up?” Feigned behind cold curiosity, her voice was back to accusing you, daring you to lie, only to be able to catch you.
“What the hell is going on with you?” You exclaimed exasperated, hands gripping your arms more tightly, both to stop another subconscious tapping and as a way to ground yourself.
She muttered something to herself you couldn’t understand and pulled out her screwdriver, running it over you several times. It’s whirring and lights starting to drive you crazy after the fifth pass past your eyes and ears. Whatever reading it gave her, disappointed and relieved her at the same time. Her eyes were still narrowed suspiciously, but her tone was a lot less accusing when she explained, “That’s the master’s rhythm.”
Well it wasn’t much of an explanation. She’d told you about the master before, it wasn’t that part you were stuck on, “What do you mean it’s “his” rhythm?”
She sighed and rubbed her wrists, “He once explained to me, a few faces ago, that this beat, the drums of four, where what he’d heard ever since his initiation where he looked into the untempered schism. It’s what drove him crazy.”
Your face fell. Hopefully she’d consider it a grimace of pity and not the slow, stinging realization of who your soulmate was.
“That’s…Awful.” You managed to get out. A quiet settled over the two of you, before you broke it again, “but what exactly did you think was happening? That I was him? You know me doctor.”
“He brainwashed people before, it’s a real possibility.” She sighed. “That, or disguise. Very well possible with the way you’ve been acting.” She added, “So unlike you.”
Her brows furrowed. Her face contorted and you realized it as her expression, right before she figured something out. When only one puzzle piece remained to be clicked into place. You hurried to speak up, hide the piece from her. “Well, your scans confirmed that I am me, right? No brainwash?”
It was a desperate attempt, one you weren’t sure if was too late.
“Yes, yes,” she muttered. “You are you, but-“ She looked up at you, and you knew it had been to late. “You have a soulmate now.”
Earlier you had been flight, when it came to danger responses. Now you had no energy left but to freeze. Less like a deer in headlights and more like a mouse in a trap. No escape. Death sentence.
You had barely had time to process your realization, caught up in this conversation with the doctor and now you were thrust into the deep end, needing not only to figure out what this meant for yourself, but also add onto it everything this meant for the Doctor.
“Stars.” the doctor breathed out as she ran her hand over her face, “Oh he probably loves and hates it at the same time. Taking my own companion away from me.”
You were unsure of what to do as she stood there, talking half to you half to herself. Probably talking a bit to an imaginary master as well. Gnawing on your lips, you just continued watching her.
She had compiled herself rather quickly, considering the situation that is. Given you a small shot of what she’d called “trovian sleep nectar” and told you that “regardless, you need to sleep.”
So you took it, no questions, and slept for 14 hours straight.
The looming threat of another talk with the doctor, made you stay in your room longer than you’d liked. It was a useless worry, you’d learned, when you went out to the bridge, only to find it deserted.
The tardis was parked, and not currently drifting in either space or the vortex, so you took a peek out the door. There was some distance between the ground and the tardis, and as you craned your head to look around the corner you saw some suspiciously doctor-looking legs poking out from beneath.
“Doctor?” You called out questioningly, over the noises of clanking and tinkering.
The noise stopped and a head appeared, under the entrance of the tardis.
“Oh, hey! Didn’t see you there. Sleep well?” She seemed back to her chipper self, which you found both unsettling and were grateful for. Maybe it meant you could forget about all of what happened before. Ignore it away. Her hands were stained, and a couple drops of sweat littered the edges of her face. You didn’t get to respond though, as a black car pulled up and you and the doctor watched several men in suits get out to stand in front of it.
You were acutely aware of the drums in your head, as you waited for them to reveal themselves and their purpose. The Doctor though didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, throwing a quip their way, as she rolled out from underneath the tardis completely.
And then, after a rather … troublesome car ride that had also reunited you with the fam, you’d somehow found yourselves in the office of the MI6.
If you’d had a moment to think, you would’ve been grateful for all the distractions.
But that only lasted until you arrived in the outback, together with the doctor and Graham. The second you stepped out the tardis doors, it’s like your mind had opened up impossibly more. Flooding it with not just the drums but a million thoughts going up and down and cross. Half-thought and half-thrown away thoughts, impressions of a cave, a barely pulsating rage beneath the surface, giddying excitement cracking through the layers. Above all, one clear thought, fully directed at you the second your eyes fell upon the man that stood meters away from you,
*Hello, Darling. Nice to finally meet you*.
You buffered like an internet explorer tab in the early 2000s. Stumbling over your feet as you watched him act like nothing had happened, greeting the Doctor almost simultaneously to greeting you.
Last to leave the tardis, the Doctor and Graham did not catch your reaction and instead walked briskly up to the man. You had to hurry to catch up to them, arriving just as the Doctor introduced Graham, “Hello, this is my friend Graham.”
She then pointed over her other shoulder where you’d stumbled in, “and this is y/n.”
He’d shook Graham’s hand and introduced himself as “O”, but you opted for a quick wave, dismissing the hand he’d held out for you as he explained to the Doctor and Graham where he had gotten his name from. Mock disappointment at your refusal to shake his hand filled your head, while he was not for a second breaking character in front of everyone. The overstimulation made you dizzy, like trying to catch what a friend is saying while people were talking loudly all around you and music was playing and kids kept bumping into you. Your head, that used to just be home to your thoughts and observations, suddenly had to house not just that but also the never-ceasing drums, the Masters thoughts and his polar-opposite actions. Happening all at the same time.
Summary: You've escaped been kidnapped, and you feel like shit. You also feel... something else. It doesn't help that the Doctor doesn't seem to care anymore. But the Master, who you've been sneaking away to secretly meet for quite some time, definitely does. Escaping to his TARDIS, you seek solace in a warm bath, and soon learn something about yourself that will change your relationship with the Timelord forever.
Notes: To quote the Bride of Frankenstein... She's alive! I've finally escaped the trenches of a writing slump, and now I'm back with our favourite renegade Timelord (because lets be real, we've got quite some time where we need to keep ourselves entertained until we get anything new to sink our teeth into with Doctor Who!) This is the first part of what is shaping to be a three part series, one which will delve into some topics including consensual kidnapping, consensual mind manipulation/hypnosis/control, and a healthy dose of BDSM- because I watched a video essay on THAT book and got mad about it again. Smut will be littered throughout, though in this chapter there's mainly female masturbation.
As ever, all fics are dedicated to my beloved @plethora-of-imagines
“You’re safe now, eh? No harm done.”
The Doctor was cheery as ever, fighting with the console scanner in her usual way, her back turned as you sat on the glowing steps to the upper walkway. The surge of adrenaline had left your system a pained and sluggish mess, yet your mind continued racing. Sure, no harm done that she’d have to do anything about. Bruises circled your wrists from handcuffs, the ache in your jaw from the force of the gag only just beginning to subside. The masked bandits that snatched you from the market had left no physical malady that couldn’t be healed with painkillers and time. But mentally, you felt… strange.
The day kept replaying in your head in sudden bursts, the echoes of their forceful touch spreading across your skin.
“Consider yourself lucky you got to stay away from the chaos. Sontarans can’t aim like they used to!”
The TARDIS let out a series of beeps, as if to tell the Timelady to stop talking. She muttered something under her breath, entering a series of numbers into a calculator wired into the surface of the machine. The two engaged in a battle of number punching and beeps, before the console seemed to relent, releasing a custard cream from the dispenser as a peace offering. All the while you fussed with your hands, picking at an invisible wound, unravelling a mental thread.
“I think I need a bath.” You finally announced, standing up from the stairs.
The Doctor turned to look at you, opening her mouth to speak, but you’d already disappeared into the depths of the corridors. On your way towards your quarters you bumped into Yaz, her own hair wet from the shower. You glanced down at her sweatshirt, a cartoonish souvenir from an adventure you’d missed for… reasons. She placed a caring hand on your shoulder.
“You alright?” She asked innocently. You just nodded.
“I need a bath.” You repeated. Yaz looked at you with sympathetic eyes.
“We were gonna start that film, the Doctor says she’s got this popcorn that changes flavour depending on what food you’re thinking of. I bet Ryan twenty quid she ends up thinking of something gross and ruins it for herself.” She gave your shoulder a squeeze. “Do you want us to wait?”
She was really trying, you thought. She was being far kinder than you deserved. You’d been much more distant from your traveling companions than usual as of late, missing more and more adventures with the Fam. Graham and Ryan had seemed resigned to your absences, and the Doctor barely seemed to notice.
“No, go ahead.” You replied, offering a small smile. “I need sleep tonight. I think I got hit pretty hard. Let me know what she thinks of in the morning, yeah?”
“Oh yeah. Good night then.” Yaz returned your smile before heading left towards the cinema wing. You swiftly made your way to your own room, locking the door behind you and pulling your phone from your pocket. Luckily your captors hadn’t taken it from you when they’d taken you, manhandling you towards their hideout. As you sat on the bed you unlocked the device, noticing the dirt caked beneath your nails as you sent a quick text.
“Got kidnapped today. Feeling rough and need a bath. Can I come over?”
You flopped backwards across the bed, letting the day sink in. The Doctor had been distracted and once again you’d paid the price. The Fam hadn’t said a word about how you’d failed to meet at the town square before the invasion had kicked into motion, and by that time you’d already endured several rounds of verbal beatings and been forced to watch your captors play three games of uno. You could still feel the phantom grip on your arms from their rough manhandling, the hot breath of their threats in the shell of your ear. You scrubbed your hands across your face, letting out a loud groan as you ruminated on yet another day feeling like you’d ran a marathon. This was becoming as much of a routine as your sneaking away. It was unsustainable.
Your phone pinged, pulling you from your spiral.
“Door’s open.”
Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Shoving your phone back into your pocket, you opened the top drawer of your nightstand and reached for a small, unassuming compact mirror hidden beneath the carefully assembled pile of junk. The compact popped open with a click, a miniscule button hidden where the mirror should’ve been, your thumb pushing it down. It made a low beeping sound and a white light enveloped your body, shooting out from the centre of the compact and encasing you in its glow. The white light snatched you from where you stood, leaving nothing but the loose dirt from your shoes on the carpet in its wake.
The light spat you out and you landed back on your feet, your stomach lightly churning. The feeling never got any easier, no matter how many times you went through it. Especially now you felt like you’d been hit with a car. Your eyes adjusted to the dark room, its familiar hazy glow of red and purple similar to the Doctor's golden TARDIS.
“I hope you tipped your kidnappers well.” A voice behind you said. You felt your shoulders sink with relief and turned around.
“It’s not an easy career and the pay’s awful.”
The owner of the voice leant against the console, arms crossed against his chest as he looked you up and down, smirking at your visible dishevelment. A shimmering red cube pulsated on its axis, spiralling circles of long lost languages displayed as holograms behind his mess of brown hair. It was shorter and curlier than the last time you saw him. You liked it quite a bit.
“You really do look rough.”
“Hello to you too, Master” You replied, shuffling across the black floor and into a pair of waiting arms, the Timelords hands stroking circles down your back. After the day you’d had this was the best thing you could’ve asked for, the butterflies in your stomach still fluttering since the first time he’d held you. Except now they were contributing to your strange unease from earlier.
“Hi.” The Master said, and you felt a small kiss press against your hairline. You melted against his body, the Master embracing you against his chest, the familiar steady rhythm of four beating against his skin.
“I’m not interrupting your plans, am I? “ You asked, glancing upward. The Master shook his head, playing with the dirty ends of your hair and grimacing at the mud, trying to shake it from his fingers.
“Just a quiet night in. Plotting, scheming, generally being evil.”
“Does shaving go into plotting or scheming?” You grinned, bringing your fingertips to stroke down the edge of his newly clean shaven jaw.
“When did you do this?”
The Master involuntarily shivered at your touch.
“You like it?”
“Oh yes. It’s very evil. People will tremble for sure.”
The Master laughed, a warm sound that sent pleasure shooting down your spine.
“I missed you. You look really good.” You breathed, nose nuzzling into his neck.
“You don’t need to flatter me, I’ve already put the bubbles in.” The Master replied without bite. Your groan was one of satisfaction.
The Master looked down at you, a fondness in his eyes you couldn’t quite describe. You often thought the Master was like a cat. He’d stare at you for a while and slowly blink when he thought you weren't looking. You’d read somewhere that it was a cat's way of showing affection. You daren't ask him that directly, for fear of him never doing it again.
“Are you hurt?” He asked carefully, his voice softer than usual. His left arms grip on you tightened, his other hand raising to cup your cheek. His hold was tender, subtly turning your head from left to right. You suspected he was inspecting you for injuries.
“Just bruises,” you replied, pressing your cheek into his palm. “They grabbed me, dragged me into a van, then dragged me into a safehouse and tied me up. But apparently it could’ve been worse. I missed a Sontaran invasion.”
The Master rolled his eyes. “Their aim isn’t what it used to be.”
You couldn’t help but bark out a laugh.
“That’s what she said.” You replied, your lips making an involuntary grimace. The Master nodded.
“And did… she… say anything else?” He asked, his tone measured. He already knew the answer, and you already knew the question that was really being asked. It wasn’t the first time your adventures with the Doctor had resulted in you being put in peril. Yet every time, she failed to ask you about it. Sure, she commented, asked if you were ‘ok’. But she never pressed for details. You suspected she didn’t want to face them.
You shuffled uncomfortably, resting your palms on his chest to steady yourself. You enjoyed feeling the Masters hearts beat, resting your head against his chest and trying to get them to race by saying whatever you thought would get him going. Your visits were becoming more and more frequent, and it was beginning to show. You were slowly putting him together every time you escaped into the night and into his arms.
“What do you think? They’re doing a movie night, apparently they’ve got popcorn that changes flavour if you think of a food.”
“Wow, a PG movie and magic popcorn.” The Master whistled sarcastically.
“You’re missing out on all that excitement to sneak away and see little old me? I’m honoured.”
“I’m so tired I'd probably only be able to think of popcorn flavoured popcorn. You’re doing me a favor.” You grinned, drawing circles on his chest. “Can I stay? I already told them I was heading to bed.”
The Master sighed dramatically, his voice raising in pitch as he put on a lilting American accent.
“But alas, instead of going to her room and saying her prayers like a good girl, she climbed through the window to stay out past curfew with that no good bad boy of hers. I heard she’s missin’ family game night to play hookey with a felon.” He teased, earning him a playful smack to the chest.
“Ew, gross.” You groaned.
“They say she was never the same after discovering cigarettes, rock and roll music and those gosh darned creature features on the tv. I heard she says swear words now!”
“Master, stop it!” You giggled.
“I heard he stole her out of her bed and took her virtue, and now she wears leather jackets and gets tied up on the weekends for kicks!”
You both dissolved into a mess of laughter, the Master pulling you tightly to his side.
“One day, love, you won’t be the fifth member of a four piece." the Master declared as you rolled your eyes, recovering from your giggles. “I’ll take you from that miserable box and those useless friends and you’ll be all mine.”
“Promise?” You asked, only half teasing. The Master was being as serious as a double heart attack, which for him was as serious as it could get.
“If I have to wrap you in chains and kidnap you myself. I’ll make you mine.”
There it was again, the strange feeling. Only this time it didn’t feel as wrong. You swallowed the strange feeling, placing a gentle kiss to the edge of the Master's lips.
“I’m gonna check on that bath.”
Reluctantly, you pulled yourself out of his embrace, finding you’d become very comfortable in his arms. The Timelord tilted his head, as if he was trying to pull whatever you were thinking out of your mind and into his own. You once more disappeared into the labyrinth of the TARDIS corridors, the walls shifting and moving to guide you towards the sweet relief of a warm bath.
The Master had done as he’d said and more. The huge tub was piled high with bubbles and swirling steam, a mug of tea sat steeping on the small table beside it, and a plush black robe was laid out for you to change into once you were done. Your usual products were displayed in a line, in use order, and a hamper waited for your dirty clothes. You laughed to yourself, a warmth blooming in your chest- it was easy to forget he spent his free time terrorising the masses when he did things like this for you.
Sinking into the heat of the gargantuan bath was the best feeling of all, your bones screaming in distress once you finally took stock of your body. A light spattering of bruises littered your skin, hidden behind the grime, covering the ache. The day had taken more of a toll than you’d initially thought. Perhaps the adrenaline had clouded your senses.
Laying in the lagoonlike tub, you allowed yourself to think about that strange feeling once again.
It all came down to the moment you were snatched, the sensation of helplessness you’d felt in those seconds that stretched into an eternity. It was the way they’d held you, controlled you, one had even clutched his hand over your mouth to stop you screaming. You still screamed, but it was the feeling of suppression. And then those handcuffs, the forceful way they’d held your arms behind your back and pulled you to that chair, cuffing you in place before silencing you with a gag.
Unknowingly, you’d began to clench your thighs together, your hands creeping down towards your clit as you thought harder and harder about every detail, every dark desire painting a vivid picture. You were held, helpless, totally controlled. If the kidnappers hadn’t been stupid, and the Doctor hadn’t been there to stop the invasion, who knows how long they’d’ve kept you there. They could’ve done anything to you. Tied you up even further, just like The Master had said he would.
The thought of the Master made your clit throb, your fingers soon reaching to satisfy your ache as you remembered his words. Maybe he really would, you considered, the heat building in your core. All you’d have to do was ask, and he would. If he was a man of his word, which was to be debated yet in your case leaned towards yes, he’d snatch you away and chain you down, then you’d definitely be helpless. You’d be all his to do with as he liked. Shit, maybe he’d even hypnotise you. The thought made you moan like an animal, the water sloshing around you as you touched yourself. You shamelessly imagined his hands, those strong hands all over your body, groping and touching and caressing and dragging and gripping and holding… everywhere.
Maybe he’d sink his fingers into your free will, the same way you imagined it was his fingers sinking into you right now, and he’d make you nothing but a puppet on his string. Oh he would, he definitely would. The thought elicited a sinful moan, the water sloshing around you as you pumped into yourself faster and faster. He’d say those magical words and pull you into his control, and he’d steal you for his own. Owning your mind, keeping you prisoner, unable to be anything but his. He could even throw you over his shoulder and carry you away as you pretended to protest, or he’d knock you out with some sort of gas and cradle you like a bride, framing himself as your twisted saviour. Would he even use chains? Or would he SAY he would, and in the end tie you down with the softest, strongest silk invented?
You were reaching your breaking point, the heat in your core and the sweat on your brow becoming unbearable. Your mind continued to ponder, your heart racing at the thought of him following up on his promise. His words echoed, a mantra of pleasure as you reached your climax. Mine, he’d said. Mine. I’ll make you mine. You felt yourself fall into the abyss of release, crying his name as you came completely and utterly undone into the water.
You faced the reality of what you’d just done, your chest rising and falling as you removed your fingers and allowed the bath to wash away the result of your fantasising. You lay silently for a solid minute in the bubbles, wallowing in the waves, before reaching to dry your hands on a nearby towel and open your phone, typing a simple question into the search engine:
“What do I do after realising I liked being kidnapped and want my partner to do it again?”
Dhawan!Master x Fem!Reader, Minor Simm!Master x Fem!Reader, Minor Missy x Fem!Reader
Summary- You meet Harold Saxon, and you know who he really is. You meet M.I.S.I, but you know who she really is. You meet O, and both of you know, you know who he really is. After his reveal, well what else should he have done? It's always been you, and he knows it. (1,449 Words)
You walk down the halls with the quickest steps you could muster without running. Your heels beat on the floor, clicking with a fast paced rhythm as you make your way closer to your destination. The doors open for you the second you reach them. You hold your head up high and resist the urge to catch your breath.
You have to resist another urge when you see the very man you were there for. This urge was to run in the opposite direction. You've never met the prime minister, you hadn't even seen him in a photo. But, one thing you know for a fact this wasn't some man called Harold Saxon. No, this man, he's the Master.
You shake off what you see is obvious. You shake off the truth. You fix your straining smile and walk in calmly.
"Good morning, Mr. Saxon. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
He grins knowingly. "I'm sure it is. Please, sit with me."
~~~~
"I am M.I.S.I." You hear a woman claim.
Finally you meet up with the Doctor and Clara as a supposed robot woman explains her functions. You glare at the back of the woman's head until you meet her face. Your eyes widen at the blue eyes that pierce your being.
"It seems you have not received the official 3W greeting package." She speaks, stepping forward quickly.
You hear Clara and the Doctor make shocked warning noises before the woman's lips are on yours. Her eyes stared back into yours as her lips move roughly against yours.
You gasp once she releases you. Not for air, no. No, you knew those eyes that bared down on you. You know that fake smile, though it's feminine now. You know this woman, you just knew her as a man.
This wasn't just some random robot, no, this woman was the Master.
~~~~
You step off the TARDIS and into the hot Australian sun. You follow slowly behind the fam. The heat already feels like it's attacking you. Still, you let out a breath of relief taking in the still of the outback. You smile, glowing in the beating sun.
You take the time to look at the shack, as Graham blocks the view of the Agent the Doctor wants help from. The shack is simple, but beautiful. Something disturbing does derive in your chest. It's energy feels so familiar...
Curiously, you finally walk forward.
Your eyes meet a pair of deep brown eyes that stare at you. Another familiar string is struck. It couldn't be, Missy died... You shake your head for a moment and accept the hand he holds out.
"It's nice to meet you, I've heard so much about you during my time at MI6."
You blink. Even the way he shakes your hand feels the same. "I'm sorry, uh, what- what's your name again?"
His eyes widen in surprise. "Yes, sorry I was so excited to greet you. I'm O."
"O?" You question a smile forming once more on your face. "What an odd name." You laugh.
He stares for a moment longer before the two of you are beckoned inside.
The longer you sit with him, the longer you talk, the longer you stay in his presence the more sure you become. He isn't some random agent with an unhealthy passion. He isn't even human.
You know this man, and you know him too well. He's the Master.
You express silently your distrust towards him, but you don't tell the Doctor your theory. You doubt she'd believe you anyways. You're careful with your words shared, and you're guarded in your actions. You don't know what his plan is; you don't want to know.
His actions, however, begin to confuse you.
A breath is ripped from you as he winks at you after telling the Doctor to look for the "Spymaster".
A yelp escapes you when he pulls you behind him as the room panics over the arrival of the Kasaavin.
A heat brushes your face as he compliments your dress before you go to the party.
A beat skips in your chest as his arms wrap around your waist while you drive the bike down the road.
A shiver crawls up your spine as he lays a hand on the small of your back breathlessly sliding by you on the plane.
Then the mask breaks. The performance ends and he shatters the secret on the ground. "Got me, well done."
Everything moves so quickly. You watch in shameful awe at his shack flying side by side to the plane. You deadpan at his excitement and the Doctor's ignorance. You share a glance with the others, their confused faces build guilt. You should've said something...
"Me and her go away back." The Master says walking back down the aisle. "We do too, don't we love?" He winks at you.
"Why aren't you freaking out too?" Graham questions.
"Because she already knew."
You frown. "I always know."
He laughs and continues his explanation.
You cringe when he throws the shrunken version of the real O to the floor. You roll your eyes as he jumps in giddy childish joy. You don't move when the group rushes towards the cockpit. You flinch back as he screams to the Doctor.
The Master turns to you as the team panics in the front of the plane. "Hello darling."
You glare. "I thought we already greeted each other."
"I always have time to greet you again." He grins.
"Are you- Are you flirting with me?"
"Depends," He says leaning over you. "Is it working?"
You don't get a chance to reject him because Yaz starts questioning, the Master is drawing in more Kasaavin, a bomb goes off, then the plane starts going down.
You hold on as tight as you can. Wind whips making every word shared unheard. One thing you do hear is all the screaming. You don't scream until you're grabbed, but it only lasts a moment before everything is suddenly calm.
Your lungs burn and your head feels like lead. The room must've been spinning. Are you even still in the plane? You fail to grasp your new surroundings. Leaning on the Master proves the only thing you can actually do. The Master rambles and his words sound underwater. At least, now you know you're not on the plane, this place was too quiet. The lights are red and most of the room is obscured in shadows.
His words slowly start to form in your head.
"Really, you should thank me for saving you. You should praise me for my generosity." He stands tall with a single arm wrapped around you.
You go to critique and berate him for your friends sake. You're sure the Doctor will find a way to save them, but that doesn't take away your anger. Sadly, only a squeak comes out.
"I suppose, it isn't that surprising. I always keep you out of harm's way, don't I? My pretty little human." You can hear him huff when you don't respond.
He pulls you away from him slightly causing you to stumble a bit.
"Speaking of human, you're so dramatic. It isn't that disorienting." He pets your hair. "It does work out rather nicely though. You'll be tucked away kindly while your Master finishes all the nasty work."
You look at him with blurry eyes. "I don't understand, why?"
"Well, isn't it obvious?" He crowds your space by pulling you flush against him. "You're my favorite."
His lips greet yours and you find yourself unable to pull away. His hands hold you in place. A groan leaves your throat as your dizzy mind quickly runs out of air. You're left resting your head in the crook of his neck after he pulls away. You sway lightly on your feet, but he holds you up like you're precious.
You let out a deep breath, trying to fill your lungs properly. "Why? I don't understand?"
"You're repeating yourself love." He rolls his eyes, picks you up bridal style, and walks towards a dim lighted hall.
"Why do you like me?" You expand on your words slowly.
There's always a time for firsts, and now is no exception. You realize that by seeing a soft smile grace his face. You don't even remember Missy smiling like this before.
"Because, you always know, and it's always been you." He lays you on a silk covered bed. "Now, get some sleep, you humans are far too fragile for you to stay awake. We'll talk more once this is all over." He pushes your hair back and leaves a gentle kiss to your lips. "Sweet dreams, my dear."
content: 18+ smut, soft!master, fluff, depictions of medical suturing done by a non-professional, size kink (ik he’s big.), improper use of blood, praise kink.
words: 5.0k
synopsis: the master gets injured during one of his adventures and it’s up to you to suture the beast. will you be able to hold the line and continue to not let your feelings for the alien get in the way of your partnership?
in your defense — you had warned him.
you told the master that if he kept acting so reckless he was going to end up hurt, or dead.
of course, he hadn't listened to you. spouting some bullshit about his superior time-lord physiology.
and while he did have a point, he could regenerate, he wasn't as frail as humans, regeneration wasn't as simple as he made it out to be — even you were well aware of that.
so when your traveling partner comes barreling through the tardis door, something clearly off with the time lord — considering he loved raving about his achievements, but now he was almost eerily silent, you knew something had gone wrong on his latest revenge seeking tour.
"you have fun, then?" you asked, just to clear the air.
the master lets out an amused puff of air at your weak attempt to start a conversation, a strangled groan following shortly after.
"are—"
"not another word, you insignificant pest." he snapped before you could even finish your sentence.
you clamp your lips tightly together and slam your hand down on the console, averting your gaze from the alien as he typed coordinates into the ship.
the insults hurt at first, but you had grown used to them. it's not something you particularly liked, but complaining would get you nowhere but the grave, so you put up with it.
after all, you loved him.
and you hated that you loved him. you could never tell him and it ate away at you slowly, it was getting harder to hide your feelings.
unable to watch him suffer in silence and his own stubbornness, you spoke up again, "let me help you. we're supposed to be partners."
"that's laughable. i don't need your help." he countered, eyes slowly turning to glare at you, they seemed to be in a perpetual state of sadness. you can't count the amount of times they appeared to be filled with tears.
"then think of it as… forced labour." you toss your hands in the air and roll your eyes.
the master's furrowed eyebrows soften the longer he stared at you, "will you finally shut up if i let you do this?" he questioned, feeling blood seep through his deep magenta coloured button up.
you're silent for a few moments, as if contemplating his question, "i doubt it." you land on, you weren't about to test your luck with an alien that had a photographic memory.
the master rolled his eyes in response, pulling his hand back from his abdomen, a long sticky rope of blood following.
you didn't have a weak stomach, but the sight almost made you gag, he'd been hiding that all this time? what had he expected to do? wait until he passed out? which, judging by the blood that spreading across his shirt rapidly, wouldn't take long.
"master, let me help you… please."
his eyes flickered toward you, a glint of surprise evident in them. neither of you were the begging type, you were both so head strong and refused to grovel. your plea made him gulp, his well-being must be extremely serious for you — silly human.
"fine, but do try to keep your incessant jabbering to a minimum."
you immediately step forward to place your hand on his wound. your fingers brushed together which caused you to shiver and refuse to look at the alien, who had tensed up from the feeling of your hand. whether it was from pain or your sudden closeness, you weren't entirely sure.
the coldness of the alien makes your stomach drop and its then that you realize you'd never been this close to the master before,
"are you usually this cold?" you asked with fear evident in your tone as you held onto him tightly, guiding him to the medical room.
you were surprised at how he didn't push you away, the last time you tried to touch him, simply to pluck a branch from his hair, you were met with a rough wrist-grab and a long lecture about not laying your disgusting human hands on him again.
"yes, please don't burst a blood vessel about it. time lords have —"
"superior physiology. i'm aware, but that doesn't explain why you're as frigid as the arctic." you fumbled with the door knob as you spoke, the time lord's weight leaning on you making it difficult to perform the simplest of tasks.
both due to the fact he was heavier than you and the fact the person you had a crush on was pressed flush against you, relying on you to keep him steady.
"because, butter fingers," the master moved one of his hands atop yours on the door, making you freeze as he turns the knob and shoves the door open, "we regulate our body heat better than humans, making us less susceptible to heat stroke or hypothermia."
you move into the medbay and sat him down on one of the hospital beds, shoulders beginning to ache from supporting the alien such a long way, damn the tardis' long halls.
"must have had some crazy weather on gallifrey, then. to cause an evolutionary tactic like that." you comment absentmindedly, moving to the other side of the room to gather the supplies to help your injured time-lord.
the master doesn't speak, and for someone who spent most of his time on a never ending rant, it was worrisome. so you glance behind yourself, immediately catching his gaze, but he doesn't look away quickly as someone who had been caught staring usually would, instead matching your stare with the ferocity of a big cat stalking its prey.
"lose the layers." you manage, pointing toward his chest. he grins at that and you immediately realize the implications behind your words, "i meant so i could help you." you shake the medical supplies in your hands vigorously, heat creeping up your neck.
"stop embarrassing yourself, butter fingers. i know what you meant." the master's voice is softer than usual, it wasn't a real threat. he shrugged off his blazer, then unbuttoned his vest and pulled it off, revealing the blood soaked button up underneath.
"i think i preferred insignificant pest to butter fingers." you sigh out helplessly, knowing it was a nickname you wouldn't be able to shake anytime soon — until he found another name to torment you.
anything but using your actual name.
your heart seemed to drop even further seeing the state of his shirt. you immediately took a quick stride over, which appeared more as a pathetic run. you dropped the supplies on the mayo stand near the bed and reached your hands to unbutton the master's shirt, hands colliding with his.
"i do believe i can remove my own shirt." the master teased as your eyes slowly moved to meet his, you were so close you could feel his ragged breath against your face.
"unless you pass out from blood loss." you challenge, but your shaking voice revealed how nervous you really were. that only seemed to amuse the master further, who cocked his eyebrows and leaned back, moving his hands behind him to support his weight.
you slowly unbuttoned his shirt, trying not to think about how intimate this was. you'd rip his shirt off just to get it over with if you were certain he wouldn't kill you for it.
once he's finally out of his shirt, you grabbed gauze from the mayo stand and begun wiping down the blood, dropping to your knees in front of him in an attempt to find the wound that no longer seemed to be gushing blood, the hair on the alien's body didn't seem to help your search.
once you had the area mostly cleaned of blood, your now-bloodied hand searches the metallic stand for the sterile saline you had found in the cabinets while the other puts pressure on the wound, "do you want lidocaine? or can you handle the pain like the big evil time-lord you are."
you grab the bottle of saline and manage to open it with only one of your hands, something the master appeared thoroughly impressed by, a shame you couldn't see him.
you bring the bottle down as you move the gauze away from the wound, pouring the saline over his injury.
the master winced in pain, hips thrusting up towards your face and under any other circumstances, you would've thought about how hot he looked.
"stick me with the anesthetic and cease your taunting, lest you lose your tongue." the master hissed, watching as you grabbed the syringe full of medicine.
when you bring the needle close to his wound, you slowly look up at him, "is now a bad time to admit i've never done this before."
"yes." the master's expression never changed, he wasn't shocked, in fact it almost seemed like he expected it.
just when you think he may stop you entirely, shoving you away from him and saying he'll do it himself, he spoke up again, "insert the needle directly into the subcutaneous layer."
your hand doesn't move, revealing you had no idea what he was talking about. you brace yourself for the insults he was going to throw at you, but they never come.
"the wound edges." he clarified and you nodded, pushing the needle into the edge of his injury quickly, to avoid pain from doing it slowly, you knew that much at least.
"inject slowly while withdrawing the needle," the master explained and you begun to carefully follow his instructions, "this is to cover the entire length of the wound."
you nod as you push the lidocaine into him, listening to his explanation intently, he sounded so soft in this moment — unlike anything you'd ever heard from the master.
when you pulled the needle out, you sighed in relief, you hadn't fucked it up and accidentally caused a regeneration or something.
"now do the other side."
fuck.
you listen, of course. lidocaine still present in the syringe as you push it into the other edge of the wound, repeating the process from earlier, his words of instruction echoing in your ears, like a mantra.
"good girl." the master praised when you pulled the syringe out once more.
at first you thought you'd been hearing things, not only was he praising you for your hard work, but he chose the most sexually charged phrase in the english lexicon.
heat rose up your neck and onto your cheeks as you slowly looked up at him, your place between his legs making it look like a rather compromising position.
the master only smirked down at you, he knew exactly what he was doing.
you stood up quickly, slamming the lidocaine syringe on the mayo stand, "well, since you're so well versed in first aid, maybe you should do the suturing." you babbled nervously, trying to get out of the room before you lost whatever was left of your dignity,
which wasn't a lot.
"ah, ah, ah." the master hooked his leg around your ankles, leaving you unable to move away from him unless you wanted to fall on your ass, "you begged me to let you help. you're going to finish the job. i'll guide you."
what was he playing at? his expression was entirely unreadable. was he trying to lead you on? mess with your feelings? had he caught on to the fact you were hopelessly in love? how long ago?
"that's a horrible idea."
"it's brilliant. what if you're all alone bleeding out with no one to help you?"
you furrow your eyebrows, knowing him, it could be read as a threat — or a promise. of course, you had always suspected your partnership would end in betrayal, so perhaps you were letting your own fear get to you.
"you're insane." you shook your head in disbelief, searching the mayo stand for the needle driver, scissors, and forceps.
"thank you, love." the master replied earnestly, watching you tug open the suture pack and pull out the thread and needle.
you finally look to him for instruction, he was rather calm about the situation, you couldn't imagine letting anyone who wasn't a medical professional near you with a needle.
did he trust you, or was it just morbid curiosity?
"hold the needle on the needle driver at a ninety degree angle," the master says, and you quickly follow his instruction, "a little angle forward may help, makes things easier."
you nod, a pout playing at your lips at you listen to him intently. your hands were shaking slightly from the fear of being guided through a medical procedure, but you're quickly able to get them under control as he begun to speak again.
"thumb and ring finger in the driver handles."
you do as you're told, but it felt weird and unnatural, unlike using your index for scissors.
"twist your wrist to the left and push the needle into the skin at ninety degrees, then once it's at the desired depth, twist your hand around and pull the needle out, and you've completed your first bite."
the master babbled as you sutured his wound as best as possible. there were no more praises or insults, simply him explaining as you stitched him up.
by the time you were done, your bottom lip was raw from how hard you had been chewing at it. you drop the supplies onto the mayo stand and kicking it away.
you moved towards the sink and washed the blood off your hands, you weren't sure you'd ever be able to purge to scent from your nostrils.
"where'd you learn to do that?"
"i'm over two thousand years old, been alone for most of it." the master shrugged, running his hand over the stitched up wound.
"if you weren't such a human-hating recluse, i'd feel bad for you." you turned around and leaned against the counter, crossing your arms as you stared at him.
he looked exceptionally beautiful like that. shirtless, hair messy as his arms flexed under his weight. he wasn't looking at you, so you had free reign to admire his figure.
"good thing i despise pity." the master seethed, turning his gaze toward you to send you a glare that used to send shivers down your spine.
"pity and empathy aren't the same thing, master."
"it's a fine line." with that, the master sat up and immediately winced, the stitches rubbing against eachother and almost snapping already. he laid back on the bed, propping himself against the pillows.
before you can ask if he wanted help, he beats you to it, refusing to be 'helped', "fetch me new clothes from the wardrobe."
you tense up, he noticed.
"don't make me repeat myself either." he seethed, but it was a sad excuse at trying to be intimidating.
you nod, leaving the medbay without saying another word to the time-lord, his avoidance hurt more than you cared to admit.
you sometimes wish that he'd just be honest with you, a real moment of domesticity, considering you lived together, but he could never award you the satisfaction of seeing him in such a vulnerable position.
it made you question if you were cut out to travel with him.
when you returned he was standing by the sink in his birthday suit — his blood stained trousers and boxers abandoned by the bed. you freeze in the doorway, trying not to let your jaw hit the floor as you eyed him up and down.
"the clothes?" he pointed towards you, and since you weren't thinking clearly, you threw them at him and turned around.
the master catches them, but was clearly caught off guard by the display. he then broke out into a cheeky grin, his infectious laughter filling the room, "you humans, so easily flustered."
"i'll be in my room." you squeak out, trying to get the image of his naked body out of your mind — to no avail.
"no you won't. if i'm to be stuck in this medical hellhole for the night, i refuse to suffer alone." the master demanded as he tugged on the clothes you brought him. you had been so kind as to bring him something comfortable to sleep in.
"no one said you had to stay in here." you try to reason, knowing it was a futile battle. even if he didn't want to stay in here, he would just because you didn't want to either. to prove some kind of point.
"the old girl insists. and if i don't listen to her, she scrambles the ship around, very moody. i don't recommend acquiring one."
you roll your eyes at his ship's antics, but don't move your place from by the door, not daring to turn around and catch a glimpse of his body.
"come here."
you don't move, you don't even acklowedge he'd spoken.
"do not ignore me or i will attach a leash to your neck and force you to follow me on all fours like the mangy dog you are."
your stomach churns from the insult as you slowly crane your neck to look at him, he was sitting on the bed, he was still half naked, shirt in his hand.
the master points his finger towards you, then to the ground in front of himself, beckoning you towards him.
you slowly walk towards him, even as every nerve in your body screamed to bolt out the door, to run out of the tardis and never look back.
"thank you. for helping me"
well, you didn't expect that.
"of course." you weren't sure what else to say, if you had kept talking, you were certain you'd never shut up, and in turn reveal how much you cared for him, how much you loved him.
"i see why the doctor keeps you little humans around, you make for spectacular maids." he immediately changed the subject, you aren't surprised in the slightest when he does.
"i'm almost entirely certain thats not why she does it." you had only met the doctor a few times, but she seemed to value her companions a hell of a lot more than the master. she didn't see them as pets, but as people.
you'd never admit to wondering what it would be like to travel with her — to not walk on eggshells around a time-lord that could kill you in an instant.
the master's hand finds its way to your belt buckle, tugging on it gently, "ah right, for companionship, she claims."
your breath hitches when his hand reaches you, and you're rendered unable to breathe when he tugs you close to him. you file perfectly between his knees, staring down at him in shock.
"i doubt… this kind of companionship. didn't you say time-lords don't…do this sort of thing." you were flustered, trying to get a full sentence out without sounding stupid grew to be a near impossible task.
"not usually, but she's never been a good time lord."
you don't know how to respond, partly because of how he was playing with you belt buckle, and because he hardly ever spoke about the doctor in a way that wasn't angry and filled with centuries of loathing.
"and i suppose, neither have i."
was he toying you? seeing how you'd react only to break you? you refused to give in, straightening your back as he finally unbuckled your belt, "what are you playing at, master?"
he groans hearing his name, leaning his head back as a smirk makes his way onto his face, teeth shining under the lights, "perhaps i'm extremely thankful for your assistance and am feeling generous."
"that'd be a first." even his touch was foreign to you. you didn't hug after a job well done, didn't dance when he blasted music in the tardis, but now here he was, unzipping your jeans.
"well, hell has frozen over, dear." he doesn't move his hands into your trousers once he'd unzipped them, they stalled against your abdomen.
"oh? and have fat pigs flown?" you joke, cocking an eyebrow.
"across the galaxy."
with a smirk still plastered across his face, you leaned down and captured your lips against his. you were almost certain this was an experiment, to see what the doctor liked so much about humans, but when your body pressed against his bare chest, you couldn't seem to care any less.
the master wraps his arms around you, hands finding themselves to your ass to pull you up onto the bed with him. you run your fingers down his chest, knees at either side of him as he shoves his tongue into your mouth with an amount of dominance you had fantasized about more times than you'd care to admit.
he lays back against the pillows and you fall forward to keep attacking his lips with kisses, one hand pressed against his chest as the other ventures to his face — beard scratching at your fingers as you cup his cheek.
he groans in pain slightly when you press against his wound, which caused you to pull back and straighten up — hand still laying on his chest as you stared down at him, trying to catch your breath.
his hands find their way under your shirt, signaling you to take it off, which you do. you felt weird being studied under his gaze, it almost felt like being judged.
"you very well may be the most beautiful human i've ever laid my eyes upon." you flush at the compliment and the master's hands run up and down your hips, circling around your back to unclip your bra.
once that falls off you, you stand on the bed, looming over him as you tug your jeans down, throwing them across the room and kneeling back down above him.
the master reaches his hand to the back of your neck and tugs you back down towards him, kissing you once more, his free hand snaking down to rub your clit through your panties.
"fuck." you gasp as soon as he touched you, you felt weird masturbating in his tardis, especially since the ship was technically alive, so it had been quite awhile.
"you've done this before, yes?" the master asked, pushing your knickers aside and sliding one of his fingers through your wet folds.
you shiver while nodding in response to his question, hips bucking forward on instinct. your reaction only seemed to make his smirk grow wider, turning into a grin as he pressed one of his fingers inside you.
"just not in awhile." you felt the need to clarify as you gripped his shoulders from the feeling of something entering you after so long.
"if this is how you react to my fingers, dear, i dread to inform you that you maybe have trouble taking me." the master grinned big as he pushed another finger inside you, curling them meticulously.
that thought excited you. sure, sometimes he had an ego that far surpassed his capabilities, but more often than not, he always backed up his statements with fact.
you moan when he presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing the nub harshly as his fingers move in and out of you, sounds of your wetness filling the medbay.
you can feel his length hardening against your abdomen as you breathed against his neck, biting down onto the flesh of his skin harshly.
he grunts, his legs jerking from the sudden pain, which quickly morphed into pleasure, "again." the master demanded, quickening the pace of his fingers as you bite down on the nape of his neck, feeling your orgasm building up quickly.
when you come, you bite down on the alien's neck so harshly you can feel blood pool into your mouth. it tasted more tangy and metallic than humans and you fight the urge to gag, instead licking the space on his neck as he pulls his fingers out of you.
you slide your hands down his body, unbuttoning his pants quickly and rubbing the master's bulge through his boxers.
the master's chest heaves, relishing in the feeling of your lips on his neck and hand on his crotch, but he craved more, he wanted to be inside you, push you until you couldn't take it anymore.
but he couldn't tonight, not in this state, not when he's at risk of snapping his stitches. you were in full control of the situation, and a part of him was scared of that — if not entirely indignified.
he sighs when you pull away from his neck, straightening your back once more and releasing his cock from the restraint of his boxers.
he hadn't been exaggerating, he was big… and thick. you collect spit in your mouth and let it fall down onto his tip — which managed to still have some blood mixed in it from his neck.
"fuck — i'm sorry." you freeze, unsure what to do about the bloodied saliva that was now already dripping down his shaft.
"keep going." he urged, grabbing your hand and moving it up and down his cock slowly, his breath quickening in pleasure.
you weren't sure how to feel, that was going inside you, and wasn't blood a total health hazard?
the thought is purged from your mind when you hear him moan, your thumb rubbing his tip. he seemed more sensitive than you imagined.
"this body is fucking sensitive." he seethed, practically reprimanding himself under his breath.
the master's hips even buck up when you remove your thumb from his tip and continue moving your hand up and down, but at a faster pace now.
his hand reaches down and grabs the space right below your ass — at the top of your thigh, and tugs you up onto your knees, "let me watch you sink down onto my cock, love."
your entire body shivers from that, but you do as he requests, lining his cock up with your entrance as you stare down at him.
then, you slowly start to press yourself down onto him. the stretch is painful, but in the best way. you let out a long breath as your walls envelop around him, trying to keep your breath steady.
"thats it." the master praised, and it made you want more, you craved more praise from the alien who only seemed to have crude things to say about you and your species.
he moved his hands up to your waist once he had bottomed out, bucking his hips up teasingly to press against your cervix. you let out a strangled cry from that, your hand gripping at his chest helplessly.
the master lets out a dark chuckle from watching you struggle above him.
slowly, you start to move, up and down against his impressive length. you don't make eye contact, instead opting to close your eyes, you almost felt ashamed.
as ashamed as someone who willingly lets someone degrade her all day could be.
"talk to me, love. i feel like i'm holding a one sided conversation by a thread." the master urged, it almost sounded like a plea coming from the depths of his soul.
"you usually are." you retort, panting quietly as you get used to his size, pleasure creeping up on you.
"don't be like that." he pouted, something you couldn't see until you opened your eyes slightly, eyelashes blocking most of your vision.
you quickened your pace, hips rocking up and down quickly as the master occassionally bucked his hips up in rhythm, careful not to exert himself to the point of tearing his wound open.
"call me by my name." the master urged as he could feel his orgasm building up.
"master." you obliged, fingernails clawing at his chest, you were close. the sounds the both of you created drowned out by the pure ecstasy you were feeling.
"again."
"master."
he reached one of his hands from your hip to your abdomen and following it down, finding your clit as you rode him vigorously. the added pleasure makes you lean your head back and moan obscenely.
the master smirked in triumph, thrusting his hips up in rhythm to push you over the edge — he didn't remember caring so much about his previous sexual partners' pleasure before.
you could feel your orgasm building, it was getting harder to ride him as your legs shook, knees going weak and ready to give out any moment.
i love you, you wanted to say.
"master!" you had cried out instead as your second orgasm of the night hit you like a freight train.
you practically collapse over the alien, whose orgasm arrives shortly after yours, shooting hot white spurts inside you as he muttered your name.
you thought you must have been hearing things, taking a few moments to collect yourself before pulling off him, his come trickling down your leg as you stand up.
you collect your clothes off the ground, you supposed you'd head back to your bedroom and let the regret and self-loathing seep into your bones as you cried yourself to sleep.
though before you could move away, the master reached out and grabbed ahold of your wrist, yanking you impossibly close to the bed, "don't leave me." he begged, unlike his usual demands.
his words make you freeze, they were so guttural, so entirely broken. it made you want to stay with him forever, to hold him.
"i just need a shower."
"at the far end of the medbay, there's those shitty emergency showers." he points down the other end of the large room, you hadn't even noticed how big it had been before.
"gee, thanks. way to make a house a home." you joked once finally released from the alien's grip. you hold your clothes tightly to yourself and step away from the bed, beginning to walk away towards where he had pointed
"why would i need to do that? it already is your home." the master called after you, genuine confusion laced in his tone, and it took everything in your not to trip over yourself.
your home.
he'd never described it like that before, but you liked it.
Pairing: Dhawan!Master x Companion!Reader
Fandom: Doctor Who
Summary: The Master never thought that you would really run away from him, and when you do, he broke.
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: angst! not proofread!
Part Two of Only When You Look Away
You should’ve known he’d follow.
The Master didn’t let things go. Not victories, not slights, not people. Especially not people who slipped through his fingers.
But it still startled you when the uneven rhythm of his footsteps echoed in the alley, growing closer with each deliberate beat. You stiffened where you sat slumped against the wall, head tipped back against the cold stone.
He didn’t call your name.. of course he didn’t! That would’ve been too human, too disgustingly easy. Instead, he spoke like you were prey he’d been circling for hours, savouring the reveal.
“Running from me, are we?” His voice slashed the quiet.
You didn’t look up. “You seemed pretty busy.”
“Oh, don’t do that.” His voice was smaller than usual, but just as wild one second and soft the next. “You disappeared. That’s my trick.” His boots thumped closer, closer.
You forced yourself to keep your voice level. “I didn’t disappear, I just left. You're the one who didn't notice."
That earned a sharp laugh, hollow and humourless. “Poor little shadow,” he was mocking you. “Sulking because she thinks she’s invisible. Thought I wouldn’t care?”
That cut, but you swallowed the sting. “I thought you wouldn’t bother. You were too caught up with the Doctor-”
"Don't say her name." The words came rushed and hot. You still refused to look at him, staring at the ground.
For a moment, the Time Lord was still. The silence that followed was almost worse than his voice. You felt it before you saw it: the heat of him, suddenly right behind you, breath brushing your ear.
“You don’t get to presume what I do or don’t care about.”
You finally turned, and for a moment, you almost wished you hadn’t. He looked feral. Tie loose, hair half-falling into his face, eyes lit like burning coals. But beneath the mania there was something raw and frantic. Like if he blinked, you’d be gone again.
“You only care about all of this because I left, you with her,” you said quietly. The words shook, but you forced them out. “If she had stayed, would you have come for me?" The silence was all you needed as an answer. "Exactly."
His jaw twitched. His hands curled like he wanted to strangle the thought itself.
“I wouldn't be so sure,” he whispered.
The softness of it landed harder than any shouted fury. Because you could see it, he meant it. Or he believed he did, and with him, wasn’t that the same thing? For once, he didn’t have a retort ready. His gaze dragged over your face, searching like the truth might be written on your skin if only he looked long enough. Finally, his lips curled. It wasn't his infamous grin, but in something close to painful grimace.
“You think I don’t see you,” his voice had gone low. “But I do. Every second of every long day. You’re always there. The only one who always stays.”
“Then why do I always feel like a shadow when the Doc- she’s mentioned?”
His breath hitched, the same way it did every time the Doctor's name was spoken, and for the first time you wondered if he hated the Doctor more for rejecting him… or for the way you dared to try and name her again.
He didn’t answer with words. Instead, his hand shot out, tangling with yours in a grip almost painful. Not gentle, not tender. Desperate. A drowning man clutching the one thing keeping him afloat.
“You never leave me,” he rasped. Not a plea. A command dressed as confession.
"I wouldn't be so sure," you echoed his empty words from before. The Master slid down onto the ground beside you, brown eyes suddenly searching yours with intent.
For a long while, neither of you moved, the alley seemingly folding in on itself until it felt like there was nothing left of the world beyond the two of you, just the damp bricks pressing into your spine and the uneven thud of his pulse where his hand clamped over yours, and you could feel him shaking, though he’d rather die and never be regenerated than admit it, that tremor that betrayed the mask he wore even when he laughed in the face of death. He stared at you like he was trying to weld you in place with sheer force of will, like if he blinked too long you’d melt back into shadow and be gone again, and it frightened you because you almost believed he could do it.
The silence stretched, then bent until it threatened to snap, and when he finally spoke it wasn’t the sharpness of a knife but the splintered edge of something already broken, his words spilling too fast, too uneven, as though he’d been holding them inside for centuries and now they tumbled out without his permission.
“I can’t,” his throat caught on the words and he swallowed hard, eyes flicking down as if ashamed of their own treachery.
"Can't what?"
“I can’t lose you, not after everything, not after-” He cut himself off, teeth bared like the admission was poison, then lurched forward until his forehead pressed into your shoulder, the hot weight of him trembling against you, all rage burned away into something raw and terribly human. "I never told you what she did to me." You waited, but the Master seemed to reconsider if he should be telling you. "She burned Gallifrey. My family..." Your eyes slowly met his again.
"You have family?"
"Had," His voice was sharp with pain. “You think I don’t notice, you think I don’t care unless it’s her, but you don’t understand. Do you even know what it does to me, knowing you’d rather vanish than stay in my orbit, knowing you’d rather disappear into nothing than let me keep you?” His voice rose and fell like waves breaking, ragged, furious not at you but at the very idea, and the hand tangled in yours tightened to the point of pain as though your bones themselves were the only tether holding him steady.
You could have told him to let go, you could have reminded him that this wasn’t the same as choosing, that desperation wasn’t devotion, but before you could speak he drew back just enough to look at you again.
“Stay,” he choked, and the word tore out of him like it cost more than blood. “Stay, don’t make me search the universe again, don’t vanish where I can’t reach you, don’t leave me with her ghost and the drums rattling around my skull while yours is gone too. I can fight her, I can hate her, but I can’t-” His voice cracked, his chest heaving with the weight of all the unsaid things, the word can’t shuddering into the air again, “I can’t lose you as well.”
His hands framed your face now, rough, trembling, unsteady as they dragged you closer, his forehead nearly slamming against yours in his urgency. “Please,” he whispered, the syllable unravelling him as he said it. “Please stay. I’ll tear the stars apart if I have to, I’ll burn everything before I let you slip through my fingers again, just- don’t go."
For a few moments, you could only stare at him. At the rawness cracking his voice, at the wreck of him pressed so close you could feel every tremor he tried to choke down. Maybe once upon a time you would have laughed at the idea of the Master on his knees in an alley begging someone to stay, but right now there was nothing funny about the way his desperation rang through the air.
His breath hitched as he waited, every muscle strung tight as though he were bracing himself for the final blow, as though your silence alone could unmake him. You realised with a sudden, almost painful clarity that you were holding the fuse to a bomb he’d been building inside himself for lifetimes.
And so you said it, quiet and steady. Just the word itself, small and impossibly sharp.
“Okay.”
The change was instant, like you’d opened a pressure valve, his whole body collapsing forward with a shuddering exhale that sounded half like relief and half like disbelief, as though he couldn’t quite fathom you’d given him what he wanted so simply. His grip loosened just enough that you could feel the warmth of his skin instead of the threat of his strength, and for a moment he just stared at you, mouth open, chest heaving, as though you’d spoken a language he hadn’t heard in centuries.
“Okay?” he echoed, and the word was so broken, so reverent, that it almost undid you more than his pleading had, like he was tasting it on his tongue, testing the shape of a future he hadn’t dared to imagine. His eyes closed and his forehead pressed back against yours, the faintest tremor still running through him, but softer now, no longer wild with fear, only undone by the simple, devastating mercy you had offered.
"I'll stay," you agreed. "But a few things have to change."
"Anything and everything will," his voice echoed in the alley like a promise.
You held his gaze, searching for the inevitable crack, the moment when the mania would flare again and unravel everything, but instead he only nodded once, sharp and certain, as though the promise had already been carved into stone.
For the first time in what felt like forever, the alley was quiet. Not with the silence of absence, but with the silence of something unspoken settling between you. Maybe it wouldn’t last, maybe it was doomed before it even began, but for now, you stayed. And so did he.
In a room full of people
I look for you
Would you avoid me
Or would you look for me too?
Hey diva, could we get a fluff and/or 18+ with silver!simm and Gomez! Master? With a feel of silver!simm meeting reader and there being a hypnosis thing while the doctor is still unconscious?
Of course I can! I didn't go along the NSFW route for this. Hope you like the fic :)
Title: The Same Person
Warnings: hypnotism
You looked helplessly at the unconscious figure of the Doctor lying on the ground. In all your years or knowing and travelling with him, you’d never seen him like this.
Never.
Your chin was suddenly gripped tightly and you were forced to look away from your friend and into the mad eyes of the man who put him in that position. The Master grinned at you, his fingers digging into your skin. You could see the madness glinting in his eyes. He was making no effort to hide that from you. No, not any more.
He was too far gone.
“Careful. She bruises easily.”
Your attention snapped to the other… version of the Master. Missy slowly walked towards you and the Master and put a hand on his (their?) shoulder. Slowly she reached forwards and gently pried away his fingers. However, you could see her nails dig into his hand as she forced him to let you go.
As the Master took a step away from you, you let out the breath you’d be holding. Almost immediately Missy took his space but you didn’t care. This was Missy after all. She cared about you even if there were times when she denied it, you could always tell that she did.
And the Master hated it.
“You never seemed too bothered about that before,” you said softly, “I always thought you liked it.”
“Hush, pet,” Missy pressed her forehead against yours, “that’s for when we’re alone.”
“We’re literally the same person,” the Master snapped, “you were literally me.”
“And you’re going to,” Missy paused, trying to find the right word, “find your own human.”
“This human.” you said brightly
The Master gave you a disdainful look because he suddenly marched towards you. For a moment you thought he was finally going to kill you but once again he forced you to look into his eyes. Unlike last time, this was gentle. He cupped your chin, tilting your head back so you were looking into his eyes. He tried to look away but the Master was quicker. You felt yourself almost immediately fall under his spell. You felt your mind clear. A soothing peacefulness coming over you. One you had only ever felt when you were with Missy.
“What,” the Master said, “do you see in her.”
“She keeps me safe.”
Missy gave the Master a smug look. She walked behind you. She pressed her chest against your back as she draped her arms across your shoulders.
“Interesting,” the Master said, “even more than the Doctor?”
“Yes.” you replied immediately
The Master looked at Missy and said,
“I hope you told him that.”
“I do,” said Missy, “very often. Keep suggesting to her to come with me but,” she cut herself and sighed, “apparently she has something against murder.”
“Pity.”
The Master stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. Behind you, Missy tensed at the soft action.
“I’m sure I could change her mind,” he said, “after all, we are the same person. You made that perfectly clear earlier.”
title from selene by niki | the master has you in her grasp. you aren't fighting to break free. what an exquisite conundrum. w!master x reader
a/n: we interrupt your regularly scheduled 11 programming to bring you SOME GAY SHIT !! i got hypnotized into writing some whittaker!master fic bc of my lovely friends on discord and honestly i will not lie to you this fic is a vessel for some gay shit sorry guys. not proofread and unedited we die like rory williams (like always) anyway enjoy !!
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"Let her go!"
The Doctor was a very clever man. You knew that better than anyone else in the universe — months of traveling through space and time would give you enough proof of someone's intelligence for a whole lifetime. Maybe a couple of lifetimes and some change. You'd seen armies turn and run at the sight of him, planets pulled from the brink of destruction, civilizations struck in awe at his presence.
But asking the Master to let you go while she stood, you in her grasp, on a cold, windy cliff edge with the ocean beneath you might have been the stupidest thing he had ever done.
"Be careful what you wish for, Doctor," she crooned. Her bicep squeezed against your neck as she shifted in place and pulled you upright. "You just might get it."
You couldn't see the Master's face, since she was pretty much holding you in a headlock, but you could hear the smirk on her voice as she spoke. The Doctor glared at her, mouth pressed into a thin line. He looked furious — but a flicker of fear flared in his sad, dark brown eyes before he blinked it away and his gaze darted to yours.
"Don't worry," he said, "and don't be scared. I'm gonna get you out of this."
"Me?" You huffed a weak laugh, craning your neck so the Master's forearm didn't press quite so tight against the base of your throat. "Scared? Who's scared?"
The Master chuckled, a deep, raspy noise that reverberated through her chest. You shivered — the sound was low, deep, and deliciously dangerous.
The tremor that wracked your body seemed to travel across your skin and to the Master. She dipped her head low so her chin was just shy of your shoulder, her blonde hair curling around the heated skin of your cheek.
"Feels like you are, love," she whispered. Her lips skimmed against the shell of your ear, and you shivered again. "Careful, now."
The Master reached into her pocket with her free hand. In one smooth movement, she wrapped something around your wrists — silk, you thought at first, with the way it glided smoothly over your skin — but then it hardened, set like concrete against your hands, and you were bound tight. You looked down, as much as you could with the Master's arm around your neck, and uselessly tried to pry your wrists apart.
"D'you like my little trick?" the Master asked the Doctor, a satisfied edge creeping into her voice. "Best thing to keep unruly pets from running away." She set her chin on your shoulder then and tilted her head so she could meet your eyes. She hooked two fingers under your chin — and gently, but firmly — moved your head so you could look her in the eyes, Her ancient, cold, hazel eyes bored holes into yours, and she was holding you in place in more ways than just the handcuffs and her solid grip. "What do you think, pet? Hmm?"
The Doctor glowered at her. You'd never seen him glower, not really, not ever. "Let her go," he said again, and slowly took a step forward. The sound of gravel crunching under his boots cracked through the cold air. "It's me you want, isn't it?"
The Master hummed. She let go of your chin and your skin burned at the absence of her touch, cooled instantly by the blustering, salty breeze.
"You know, I'm not sure anymore," she said, and her voice was softer then, bordering on a song. "Seems like this little one's quite happy right here —" She tipped her head down and brushed her nose against your shoulder, trailing up, up, until her face was right against yours — "with me. And possibly more fun, at that."
The Master took a steady step backwards, closer to the cliff edge. You stumbled, feet scraping against stone, but she held you upright. You could feel the spray of the waves crashing against the cliff against the back of your neck. The ground beneath you trembled, and distantly you heard something break off and fall into the ocean with tremendous force.
"I'll find you," the Doctor said. You knew it was supposed to be for you — your protector, as always, the Doctor — but his eyes were locked firmly on the Master. "I promise, I'll find you."
Your breath still stuck in your lungs, you nodded. The Doctor searched your eyes, set his jaw firm, and nodded back.
"I'll hold you to that," the Master laughed, and with a final step backward, the ground disappeared from underneath you.
There was a single, frightening second where you imagined what it would be like to die. You had come so close to death so many times it was almost like a memory — you could see it in the back of your eye, your body a scarlet smear, dashed across the rocks. What would happen? Would you stay there, bloody, baked dry by the passing sun? Would you float away, carried away by the waves into the distance, and wash up broken on the shores of some distant city? Or would you sink deep underneath the waves, and become a feast for all manner of strange creatures?
Then the world fizzled out around you, and in that that strange, in-between darkness, the Master murmured, her lips against your cheek as she spoke: "Not letting you go. Not ever."
So, none of the above, because — quite impossibly — you believed her.
The world materialized around you. You landed, heavy, with a thump against wooden floors. The cold ocean air had seamlessly shifted, turning warm and familiar, and the bright glare of the sun had dimmed into the darkened interior of the Master's TARDIS.
Another second passed, but it stretched into an eternity. Your heartbeat, wild and frantic, hammered against your ribcage, and the Master could feel it. How could she not, with her arm still around your neck, skin pressed to your pulse? You gasped lungfuls of air, your body still caught in that moment of free fall for just a second too long, heaving and trembling in the Master's arms.
"What was that about not being scared?" the Master asked, quiet. Not an accusation, or a taunt — just an observation.
"We dropped off a cliff," you managed. "I think you can excuse the jitters."
The Master loosened her arm, grabbing you by the shoulders and turning you firmly to face her. You could finally, properly see her now — her windswept hair, dark, intense eyes locked onto you, scarlet blood-red painted lips parted slightly as her gaze raked across your shaking form.
A thought burst through. She was beautiful. Beautiful in the way black holes are beautiful — alluring, abyssal, dangerous wells of gravity so strong you have no choice but to be pulled under and, quite possibly, ripped apart.
You swiftly decided that the risk of possibly getting ripped apart was much less than the benefit of her, staring at you with those eyes of hers.
The Master tilted her head, listening, and then her lips curved. "You flatter me," she said. Her grip on your shoulders tightened a fraction, dark, pointed nails digging ever so slightly into your skin. "Hell of a way to get my attention."
"Hell of a way to get me alone," you breathed, a smile of your own escaping you with a trembling breath.
Her gaze sharpened like a knife. The shine in her gaze was as sharp as a dagger, pressed tight against your throat, tight enough to draw blood — the same blood pumping quicker and quicker through your veins not just with fear, but with something in its immediate family. Anticipation.
She let go of your shoulders, reached down to take your bound wrists, and tugged you close to her with an ease that would have been terrifying if it were anyone else. Her body was pressed flush against yours, and you could feel her heartbeats as they pulsed steady against your chest. She peered down at you through her eyelashes and hummed.
"Stay put, love," the Master whispered, and suddenly her hands were wrapped around your neck and jaw and her lips were pressed against yours.
Perhaps press was the wrong word to use in this situation. The Master was not a gentle person — she would not press a kiss to your lips as simply as one would press a button — no, she consumed you, slotted her lips against your own so hungrily you were convinced she'd been starved. And maybe she had — how long had it been since she'd seen you last? Long enough for her to miss you, judging by the way her hands protectively traveled towards the nape of your neck, where her vice grip had been just minutes ago.
You needed her closer. You shifted in her grasp, just enough to loosen your arms away from where your bodies connected, and lifted your bound wrists until they hooked around the Master's neck. She chuckled darkly against your mouth and pulled away — then smiled wickedly when you made a small, wordless noise of protest.
"Naughty, naughty," she purred. Her hands slid down, settling on your waist. "What would the Doctor think if he saw you like this, hmm?"
The Doctor was the last thing on your mind right now. Everything else had melted away except for the feeling of the Master — her touch, the feel of her body pressed against yours, the way her lips felt against yours.
You tried to lean in for another searing kiss and the Master tutted. One hand left your waist and palmed your face, drifting down your neck until her thumb settled at the hollow of your throat. She pressed down at the skin lightly — a rarity for the Master, a light touch. You shuddered. One wrong move and that hand against your neck could be your end. It scared you then, this dance. It thrilled you now.
"What is this? Why don't you run away?" The Master gripped the skin of your waist, not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough for you to feel it. "Do as you're told, pet. Tell me."
The words didn't come, no matter how much you willed them to. They were lodged in your throat, escaping only as thin sighs, stutters, and whimpers. You knew this was a betrayal. If the Doctor ever found out — his grief would be unimaginable. But how could you describe an addiction to a certain kind of danger, one that the Doctor couldn't provide? The kind that burns just by being in its presence? The kind that drowns you if only to let you appreciate the air you breathe?
"I'm choosing," you whispered, eventually, "not to run away. I'm choosing you."
When you leaned forward the Master did not move away, instead letting you lay a kiss on her jaw. Her throat bobbed, and for a second you could feel her body tremble.
"Mine, then?" she asked, pressing her cheek against the top of your head.
You nodded. "Yours. No question."
And with a promise like that, how could the Master let you go ever again? With another burning kiss, she pressed herself against you, and you let her pull you under — down, down, where it was just you and her and nothing else mattered, or could matter, ever again. An abyss, a black hole, no escape. Not that you ever planned to get away in the first place.
saw a soulmate au where you can hear your soulmates thoughts and cannot stop thinking about the masters soulmate hearing the endless stream of nonsense banging around his head like a pinball machine
AN| I couldn't help myself, I don't know what to tag it, it's Simm, Missy, Dhawan...I mean godspeed.
TW| none really, the reader thinks the master killed themselves, they think The Master title is a sex thing maybe?
Words| 700 (It's a little guy)
Pairings| Master (Simm, Missy, Dhawan) x GN!Reader.
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It was odd; sometimes there was a drumming in your mind, sometimes it was plots and plans. What the fuck was a Gallifrey? Who was this doctor? And what sort of made-up thing was Arton Energy? A toclafane? And god fucking damnit, the snippets of songs that got stuck in your mind because of this unknown person, who was slowly becoming the reason you were always distracted or had a headache, they were so varied.
It circled back to the Doctor a lot; you wondered if you should be jealous, even if the thoughts were murderous. Occasionally they didn’t feel murderous, but it didn’t matter; this person's mind was a whirlwind of chaos. They needed a day off, that was for sure.
You often wondered about their profession. With the way they thought, maybe a sci-fi writer with a murder kink? But then there was some sort of politics? They had called themselves The Master, so some sex thing? Sometimes there was a language you didn’t understand, but it sounded musical, pretty, but then the feelings of anger and resentment overshadowed any of that. Sometimes there would be a faint drum in four, but that felt like a distant memory, and another thought would smother it as soon as it started.
Sometimes they would think really hard about a certain brand of crisps; one time you got them to try, and they were spicy and garbage, and you thought really hard about it so they would know their choice in crisps was dog water. The thoughts got quiet for a long time after that; you wondered if you accidentally offended them and they offed themselves because as far as you knew there was no way to turn off their thoughts. Then after a few months you heard the drumming; it was louder, and their thoughts were so jumbled and scared, and it was overwhelming for you. You almost threw up, and you begged them to silence it, but they didn’t; they couldn’t. You felt everything; their thoughts were a mess, and they were going to track the source of the drums. There was a gap in your memory, and things went back to normal, and then there were no drums. Good on them, they figured it out.
Thoughts were never-ending, though; you learned a lot about them, about what they were doing at certain times. It still sounded so sci-fi, sometimes they would ask you certain questions, and you would answer. The thought process shifted after they had gotten silent again; it was less angry. It felt still as bananas, but the thoughts were more calculated, more guarded, like they didn’t want you there, more so than they had before. There were long silences then, for quite a long time, before there was sympathy, apologies, thoughts that were devastating, people you did not know, names you didn’t recognize, and actions that were truly heinous. Regret. It made you sad, you wanted to meet them, but they told you no, they didn’t want to meet you. Which made you upset, and you tried your hardest not to think about anything but a stupid earworm meme song you had heard to make them suffer.
They threatened to kill you with their bare fists if you didn’t stop, so you did it more. Until they begged you to stop, and then you did, they were quiet for a long time after that. It wasn’t until recently that their thoughts were back, angry again, manic, torn, and upset. Everything they knew was a lie, everything they were was a question, their identity was so important to them, and now they didn’t know who they were. So you told them, They were the Master. Whatever that meant, they were mad and brilliant and had garbage taste in crisps. They wanted to meet finally, so you picked a time and a place to meet this person who had been so erratic in your mind, but you felt so connected too because of it.
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Multimaster, so smashed the taglists together, godspeed everyone.
