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snippychicke · 5 years ago

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Aftermath--Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Rating: Everyone

Warnings: Mentions of violence?

Fandom: Umbrella Academy; The Swedes specifically

Note: slight word difference than the AO3version because I did some minor editing and I’m too lazy to update both. Nothing major, this may just flow better.

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Otto didn't have anywhere to go anywhere, but even if he did, Otto questioned if he would. Not unless he had his family back.

He missed his brothers and thought of them regularly. Oscar would be giving him such a hard time over everything, from struggling to adapt to having just one eye to how fond he was of his new housemate. There were times first thing when he woke to the subtle smells of breakfast that his hazy mind thought Axel was downstairs cooking. Then Lorelei would chasten one of the cats, and reality would crash down on him.

But for the first time since his childhood, he felt protective of someone outside his family. He wasn't used to it, mostly since she was far more outgoing than his brothers.

Even before The Commission, he had gone through life not caring much about anyone outside his family. All that mattered was family; the rest of the world was not his problem.

Lorelei seemed to think the exact opposite. People drifted to her house for medical advice or just to gossip. Raymond was far from the only person who dropped by just for a cup of coffee on her days off to simply catch up. Despite his uninterest in the gossip, he found himself lingering nearby out of both habit and paranoia.

Such as the Friday night when the quiet evening was interrupted by pounding on the front door again. Soon the living room was full with three teenage boys and two girls; the girls were huddled together on the couch, their makeup running lightly from tears while two of the boys were barely containing their pent-up energy as they paced the living room. The third was sitting backward in the straight-back hardwood chair as Lorelei carefully stitched up the knife wound to his back. (Too shallow to do any damage, Otto mentally scoffed at whoever attacked him. The wound still healing on his leg from Oscar was deeper.)

"We need to go find those punks," one of the two boys finally broke the tense silence. "I'm sick and tired of them damn white boys thinking they can do whatever they please. No offense," he tacked on as Otto shifted from his place leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, feeling on guard with this many people in <strike>their</strike> the house. Especially when the younger men seemed itching for a fight.

Otto just stared at the young boy. The teen quickly looked away, scratching his head as he turned away and drifted back towards his friends. No. There was no way the child would have the strength or guts to act out revenge. His threats were as empty as the food dish once Poyo finished.

"The hell you are," Lorelei apparently agreed as she finished the knot and snipped the string free. "You are all going to go home and stay there. And if you see that gang of punks again, you're going to turn the other way and leave."

"You want us to run away?!" The second boy protested, his eye swelling shut from the black eye since he kept taking the frozen bag of peas away from his face. "They'll really have no respect for us if we do that!"

"If you three get in a fight," she countered as she dabbed away the blood with plenty of hydrogen peroxide, not even bothering to look up, "no matter who started it, and no matter who ended it, you three will be painted as the villains. And it won't help the Movement any either," she continued as the boy opened his mouth to protest, glancing up with a strong look. "Sometimes, you have to lose a battle to win a war."

The teen ground his teeth but kept silent as Lorelei finished her bandage. "Now, all of you, go home. Ask your parents for some aspirin, and then get some sleep. Got it?"

Otto thought for a short moment that things would settle back to normalcy for a short moment after the teens shuffled out the door until Lorelei’s fist slammed on the doorframe as soon as it was closed. "I am going to find those damn brats and give them a piece of my mind!" Lorelei seethed as she glared at the old oak. "Stabbing a boy with his back turned! What kind of yellow belly snake does that?"

The mood whiplash caught Otto by surprise. He tilted his head slightly as he watched her storm back to her workspace and angrily picking up the dirtied rags and instruments. "I'd show those brats. I want to say I'd drag them home by their ears and tell their mothers what they did, but knowing this damned town, they'd probably see nothing wrong with it!"

Otto was rather intrigued by the flare of rage; it was his first time seeing Lorelei angry. It was rather cute seeing the snarl on her lips as she continued to mutter to herself, almost as if she had forgotten he was there.

After a moment, he crossed the room and took the bundle of bloodied rags from her silently. The faint blush on her face as she quietly thanked him proved he had guessed right. She had forgotten he had been watching.

"...why do people hate each other like that?" She whispered as they worked together to handwash the rags in the kitchen sink a few minutes later. "I never understood why skin color made any difference. Nana Chestnut and her family were so much better than my real kin growing up. But people just hate on them without ever even trying to figure out what kind of person they are."

Otto was silent, unsure if there was a right answer, or even if Lorelei was looking for one. And to be honest, he didn't understand it either. He had seen it through the years but had ignored it as another part of the civilian life he would never understand. A part he had no interest in understanding. "I could hunt them down?" He offered quietly, though he highly doubted that's what she really wanted.

Sure enough, the dubious expression on her face confirmed his thoughts. All that anger, but she was far too soft to act against another. Or even have someone else do it for her.

He tried not to think of when he was willing to do something for someone else when there was no benefit for him. Because if Lorelei had said yes, his target wouldn't see the next sunrise.

The frown smoothed away into a slight smile as she shook her head. With her hands covered in red-stained suds, she rested her head against his arm. "...no. But thank you for listening to me crab."

He was silent, but enjoyed the warmth that soaked through his shirt from the contact. Enjoyed the warmth that bloomed in his chest as she smiled up at him.

--+--

"I have so many concerns," Raymond commented the next time he came over and saw not only the cats happily making themselves at home, but Oscar who was once more practicing his aim on the garage, though this time with small hatchets which she wasn't sure where he had found.

"Hey, you were always worried about me living by myself," Lorelei replied as she busied herself with pouring some tea, hoping to drag Raymond away from the kitchen window where he watched Otto. (Partially so she wouldn't be caught ogling the man, stripped to just a simple cotton shirt despite the early December afternoon, sweat sticking to his muscles….)

Raymond opened his mouth, closed it, sighed, and ruffled his short hair as he turned and joined her at the kitchen table. "I was thinking more along the lines of a guard dog, Lei. Or maybe an actual husband. Not a dozen cats and a would-be murderer."

"I think I prefer Otto." She grinned at his dark look. "Look, I get you started on the wrong foot…"

"Attempted murder is hardly the wrong foot!"

"But he's a decent guy, I'm telling you," she continued as if she didn't hear him. "He cleans and does a better job than me. How many men you know are willing to split housework?"

"That's what you're focusing on?" He spluttered while gesturing towards the back yard. "Not him throwing hatchets at your garage? Or the fact he barely speaks English? Are you just going to support him?"

"Just because he's quiet doesn't mean he can't speak our language," she retorted, her eyes narrowing. "And that garage is one good storm away from being a pile of tinder anyways, and it's working on the hand-eye coordination after losing half his vision!"

Raymond gritted his teeth, forcing himself to take a breath. Getting in a shouting match was not good for either of them. "Look. I just worry about you. Can you blame me for not trusting him? After what he did to Allie and me?"

The reminder struck her hard. Otto was someone entirely different for her than who Raymond saw. She couldn't exactly blame him for his feelings of mistrust and suspicion. Yet, at the same time, it was getting harder and harder for her to see Otto as the violent man Raymond saw. Not when she's seen him tugging yarn around for the cats to play with. Or relaxing on the couch with a cat curled on his chest and another on his stomach. Or splitting the clean up after their meal.

Or seen him through the cracked door of his room, holding that milkman hat and looking so absolutely heartbroken. Hearing him waking up from a dead sleep with a shout of fear and grief.

"There's more to him than that," she finally said quietly, looking away.

"But it's still a part of him. Do you even know anything about his past? Why did he and his brother attack us? Where is he even from? Why is he staying with you?"

She stayed silent, eyes focused on her glass of tea. She didn't. She pointedly didn't ask and tried not to wonder.

Raymond sighed as he stood, the chair scratching against the hardwood floor. "I'll be the first to admit that there was a lot to Allie I didn't know. A lot of questions I should've asked but didn't. I wanted to be happy, so I turned a blind eye. And it cost me a lot more than I expected. Are you willing to pay that same price?"

Silence hung in the air once more as she refused to lift her gaze from the table. Raymond sighed again. "Look, I know you're a grown woman, and you want to live your own life, but just… think about it, okay?"

She nodded her head, still unable to look up even as he left, the door sticking as it shut behind him, making the whole house rattle as he forced it close. Only then did she move, standing and wrapping her arms around her. For some reason, her feet lead her to the back door, opening it with a hard pull and stepping out into the chilly air. The steady thunk of a blade against wood was oddly soothing as she settled on the cement step, Raymond's words swirling in her mind.

Who was Otto? Was that even his actual name? What was he doing in Dallas? What was he doing with her? Had she been so lonely that she had just accepted it?

Where did he get the cats from?

She was broken from her thoughts as Otto's well-worn leather boots appeared in her vision. She looked up, meeting his silent but understanding gaze. She rubbed her eyes, knowing it looked like she was on the verge of crying. "Sorry, did I break your concentration?"

He glanced at the improvised target before back to her and offered a hand. She frowned slightly but accepted it, unsurprised about how easily he pulled her to her feet, and more surprised that he led her to where he had the six hatchets laying on an old stump. Wordlessly, he positioned her in the marks in the dead grass made by his boots and put one of the hatchets in her hand.

"What? You're kidding me, right?" She gave a slight disbelieving laugh as he stepped back. "I-I'm not; I can't…"

"Try," he said as she trailed off weakly. She looked down at the tool in her hand; the wood handle still warm from his grasp, the blade polished and sharpened to a fine point (just like every knife in the house now). She looked back at him, a little lost, but he just tilted his head toward the garage.

"This is such a bad idea," she muttered before mimicking a baseball player's stance and giving her best. The hatchet made it maybe halfway before falling onto the grass.

"See, I told you…" she trailed off as he picked up the next one and stepped towards her. He placed it in her hand before silently adjusting her stance. She was pretty sure her face was red as he guided her hips and legs before standing behind her and covering her hands with his.

"Aim like this," he spoke softly, positioning her arm. "Feel how the weapon balances in your hand. Focus it on finding its mark. Inhale," he commanded as he pulled her arm back, and she couldn't help but obey before he gently mimicked a pitch. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she was sure her face was red. She had never heard him talk so much and hadn't quite realized how deep or smooth his voice was until he was all but murmuring in her ear. "And exhale. Now try."

She missed his warmth as soon as he stepped away and automatically looked back at him. He simply gestured towards the garage wall. Lorelei turned around, trying to focus and remember his words and less of his warmth and gentleness.

This time, the blade stuck in the ground less than a foot from the garage's foundation. Seeing the metal buried in the grass sent a thrill of pride as she grinned.

And then Otto gave her another hatchet. “Again.”

---+---

The sun had set below the horizon by the time Otto allowed her to quit. Her arms were sore, and her fingers stiff as she fell back on the cement step, rolling her shoulders tenderly as he settled beside her.

But a single hatchet was buried in the faded white paint wood panel. She hadn't felt that much pride in a long time as when she finally made her mark. Or when Otto gave her a proud smile and clapped her on the shoulder.

"Better?"

"Sorta," she admitted truthfully, though now her body was at rest, her mind started its questions once more. "Can I...Can I ask you a question?"

She hesitantly met his good eye. No matter what they were doing, she inevitably ended up on his good side. Maybe she did it unconsciously, or maybe he planned it that way. Perhaps he didn't trust her enough to leave her in his blind spot.

There was doubt in his expression, but he shrugged slightly anyways. "Were you...were you really trying to kill Ray and Allie?"

His look quickly darkened, the warmth in his expression disappearing as he looked away from her. "...Yes."

Even though she knew the answer, it still felt like a sucker-punch to her gut. "Why?"

"It was our job," he answered simply.

Job? "...Do you still plan on killing them?" She whispered after. A long moment. "Are you...are you just here to try again?" Was she just a pawn? Was she being played like a fiddle after all?

"No." He answered, his hand finding hers as it clutched at her knee, carefully encouraging her fingers open so he could thread his fingers with hers. "I...have no one." He admitted, and this time he was the one unable to meet her gaze but kept his eye focused on their joined hands. "My brothers are gone. But if you want me to leave, I will."

There were tears in her eyes when he did finally look up at her, the hurt she had seen shadows of once more open and bared for her to see.

"Please don't. Don't leave me." She said, echoing the expression written so plainly on his face. "I don't have much. This place is a wreck. And I know we barely know each other, but…"

"I'll stay."

---+---

Icy rain tapped on the window, the aged wood of the house occasional creaking from the chill, lulling him to a semi-sleep. Otherwise, the house was silent, with only the occasional whisper of sound as the cats padded in or out of his room. Not the tiny room on the first floor, but one of the ones upstairs.

It had taken a good couple of days for both of them to sort through the mess of the two spare bedrooms on the second floor, turning one into a proper bedroom and the other an organized storeroom. (Lorelei kept apologizing because of the mess, but he was more distracted by seeing her hair covered by a colorful kerchief, the stray strands sticking to her flushed face, that he barely heard her.)

He slept better on the slightly larger bed. It felt less like a temporary room and something more permanent, though habits were hard to kick. He had his bag still packed with necessities and sitting underneath his bed. But he allowed himself to set the few pictures he had usually carefully packed away to sit on the nightstand in frames Lorelei had found for him.

(No questions were asked when she saw the pictures of him and his brothers, though he could see the curiosity on her face. Someday he wanted to be able to talk to her about them. Share his memories of his family. But the pain was still too fresh, so he was thankful she respected his silence.)

A sharp crack of thunder broke the silence, and the split-second flash of light had given him enough warning not to jump.

It hadn't prepared him for the ear-splitting scream of terror. He had grabbed the gun beneath his pillow in one quick motion and was running across the hall, breaking the door down to Lorelei's room, eye searching the darkness for an intruder.

Instead, it was just her hunched in her bed, hands over her head as she flinched away from him; her hazel eyes widened with fear.

Of him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she gasped as she shook. "I didn't--I didn't…"

He lowered his gun quickly, guilt turning his stomach. "Lorelei," he started, "I--"

"Otto?" She interrupted, relaxing somewhat, the wild look leaving her eyes. "I-I thought…" another flash of light and a crack of thunder, and he watched her turn as stiff and panicked as deer in headlights before shaking herself out of it a moment later with a whimper. '"I'm sorry," she whispered as she turned back to him, "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Otto hesitated before carefully entering, watching her for any signs of fear. Instead, she shifted in her bed to make room for him. The mattress sunk as he settled next to her, giving her room yet close enough to feel her warmth radiating into the cold room.

She wasn't as timid as usual, scooting close enough to press against his side. He could feel her tremble as thunder cracked once more. "I am a grown-ass adult scared of thunder," she spat abysmally. "How pathetic is that?"

He was at a loss for what to do. Fear was not something familiar to him; not personally, and he couldn't recall the last time he saw his brothers scared.

How did someone go about comforting another? If it was his brothers, he would have gone after whatever had dared to frighten them.

Without thinking, he offered the automatic rifle he had brought. She stared at the gun before looking up at him with a quizzical expression. "...I don't think shooting anything is going to help."

"Wouldn't hurt," he countered and earned a slight smile and faint chuckle before she sank into his side. He allowed the gun to rest on the bed and wrapped his arm around her back, holding her to him. They were both quiet as the clock ticked on. Gradually a few of the cats strayed in, looking rather inquisitive. Everytime the thunder cracked and she flinched, his hold would tighten, his thumb rubbing circles on her arm.

"Who were you scared of?" He finally asked the question brewing in his mind. Who had she seen standing in the doorway that terrified her? Who had ingrained in her the need to apologize for screaming out in fear?

Lorelei was silent, though a glance assured him that she understood what he meant. Her expression was drawn as she soothed Nala's thick orange coat as the kitten settled on her lap. "My dad," she finally answered. "He hated it whenever I woke him up. He's been dead for years now, and I still…."

"Good." He said after she trailed off.

"Good?"

He shrugged, "You'd get upset."

She stared at him before realization set in. To his astonishment, she snorted and chuckled. "Is it horrid of me if I said I'd choose you over him?"

Otto felt something twist in his chest at the admission. Family to him was everything. It was nothing more than a hypothetical statement, but… for her to put him before her father meant a lot to him.

She meant a lot to him. He thought back to the terror on her face, the sharp pain in his gut when he thought she was scared of him. He had thought most of that guilt and dread was behind him. Granted, most of the ones he had killed were often less than innocent, but…. "Don't...ever be afraid of me." He said softly as he brushed a stray strand away from her face, carefully tucking it behind her ear.

Her freckled cheeks turned pink as she smiled. "I don't think I could. I know you wouldn't hurt me."

He had lost count of how many people he had killed. There was no way to total the number of bystanders that ended up as casualties because of him. A trail of blood followed him and his brothers wherever they went.

And yet….

His fingers traced the curve of her face, his gaze drawn to her lips as they shifted from a smile to being slightly parted. His nose brushed hers as he leaned down, his eye closing before…

A cold water droplet fell right on his nose.

Both of them jumped back, the moment broken. Lorelei cursed another drop of water fell on her forehead before jumping to her feet and dashing off for a bucket, curses following her down the stairs. Otto glared up at the ceiling where the roof was leaking.

If that wasn't Oscar haunting him, he would eat his boot.

--+--

Back in the hospital, John Doe sneezed.

#the umbrella academytuatua swedestua ottotua Oscartua Axelotto x readerthe umbrella academy fanficjason bryden fic: aftermath #The Umbrella Academy #tua #tua swedes #tua otto #tua oscar #tua axel #otto x reader #the swedes otto #the umbrella academy fanfic #Jason Bryden #fic: aftermath #otto/OC #the swedes axel #the swedes #the swedes oscar

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just-readerthing-blog · 5 years ago

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The New Chapter

I know it’s really hard to accept the failure, but that failure opened new chapter in my life. I always believed that starting all over again from the beginning will give your life a backward push, but that will work as a slingshot to push you forward with with double speed.

Never be afraid of trying new thing in life , never be afraid to fail because it shows your efforts.

#keeponfighting #keepyourdreamsalive #just-readerthing #writing

#just-readerthing

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handwrittenfantasy-blog · 8 years ago

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You know you like books when you get excited over a new math textbook despite the fact that you hate math…

#studying #newbook #readerthings #hate math

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defectivevillain · 2 years ago

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fake dates (and real ones, too)

pairing: Jake Peralta/Reader

The reader’s pronouns are he/him. Otherwise, no physical descriptors are used and race is ambiguous.

summary: Jake and you are assigned to intercept Michael Augustine's criminal activities. You're not sure which part of the night will be more difficult: the mission itself, or pretending to be engaged to Jake Peralta.

word count: 2.5k | ao3 version

“Table for two, please.”

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing available,” the hostess says mechanically. You share a worried glance with Jake. Well, that’s not good. Your mission can’t fail before it’s even begun. The two of you were assigned to follow behind Michael Augustine, a notorious identity thief. He stole a laptop that has access to over 100,000 Social Security numbers and he’s apparently planning to sell the laptop to an interested party from China. Jake and you were told to watch Augustine and intercept the handoff of the laptop. It’s not a hard mission, but the restaurant’s inability to find you a table may prove to be a big problem.

“Oh no,” you remark sadly, trying to think of a cover story. “Tonight’s a really important night for us. Johnny and I just got engaged and… this is where our first date was.” You blink at Peralta, who seems to recover from the sudden shock of it all. To your surprise, the detective puts a hand on your arm and smiles at the hostess. Right, for the mission, you remember. You have to be touching to sell it.

“Yeah, it would mean so much to… Casper… and me if we got a reservation,” Jake continues. It takes every ounce of strength you have not to react. Casper, as in Casper the Friendly Ghost? That’s the fake name Jake chose? You groan internally. “But I didn’t know if he was going to say yes.”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised. The hostess is staring at you expectantly. You know that you need to lay it on thick if you want her to believe that you’re truly an engaged couple. In a burst of spontaneity, you lean forward and kiss Jake on the cheek. His eyes go wide and he looks genuinely startled. You turn to the hostess and manifest a confidence that you don’t quite possess in the moment. “He was so nervous,” you whisper to the hostess, as if you’re telling her an inside joke. Your heart is racing in your chest but the smile on your face doesn’t falter.

Fortunately, the hostess seems to eat the act right up. “Well, I’ll see what I can do for two young lovers,” she smiles, looking down at the screen.

“Yeah, we’re lovers,” Jake remarks, clearly feeling a bit flustered and overwhelmed. You subtly elbow him in the side and he stops talking. A small part of you wonders why Peralta seems so off-kilter. Is the idea of dating you really so bad to him? You push that thought away before your mind can needlessly spiral. The hostess steps away for a moment to speak with someone. When she comes back, there’s a waitress smiling at you.

“Right this way, you two.” You both exchange surprised looks before you’re led to your table. The waitress lays down two menus and promises to be back with drinks in a few minutes.

“Well, we’re here,” you say, sitting down in the chair Jake had scrambled to pull out for you. Your voice only cracks minutely, a feat you’re rather proud of. The menus are laid out in front of you and empty glasses recline on the luxurious white tablecloth.

“Yeah,” Jake nods, evidently feeling as perplexed and lost as you do. He takes a deep breath. Jake seems to be rather practiced at assignments like these, because he looks entirely unaffected. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he was enjoying his night as any other person was. “We’ll be fine. We just have to pretend to be more sophisticated than we actually are. Should be easy, right?” The grin on his face is definitely a little tight at that. You can certainly sympathize.

“I think you’re missing the part about us being lovers,” you decide to point out. That will be the most difficult part of this assignment. This restaurant isn’t super fancy, so you’ll get by with basic table manners. Your so-called engagement with Johnny—Jake—will be harder to maintain. “Johnny.” You’re kind of bad at remembering to call people by their names. This will be tough.

“Right,” Jake grimaces, a strange expression flickering on his face for a fraction of a second. He smoothly adjusts his posture. “Here, hold my hand. It’s only very sweaty.” The detective reaches out and leaves his open palm on the table.

“I’m nervous, too; it’s okay,” you reassure him, reaching out to clasp his hand. Jake murmurs something under his breath about different reasons, but you can’t hear exactly what he says. Instead, you settle for squeezing his hand in a reassuring gesture. The detective actually seems to relax at that, as he sends you a grateful smile. “Do you see him?” Jake sends a glance to his right and, sure enough, the enamored couple is sitting at a booth a couple hundred feet away.

Surprisingly enough, the dinner proves to be rather boring. Jake and you order, but you’re not anticipating actually getting to eat your food. Sure enough, Augustine and his partner are already done eating by the time the waitress walks away with your orders. You hear Augustine get up and put on his coat, as his partner walks back to the car. He heads off into the direction of the kitchen. Evidently, the chef will be making the handoff. You grab Jake’s hand and drag him after you, until you’re both awkwardly hovering in the hallway. The two of you look into the kitchen, only to see him talking to the chef. You don’t see any actual handoff being made. Perhaps he just knows the cook? Jake seems to be just as confused as you are, as he keeps trying to adjust his view of the kitchen.

Unfortunately, Jake’s movements seem to catch the criminal’s eye and Augustine turns his head suddenly, his eyes catching on Jake and you. You swear under your breath, turning to Jake. He bites his lip, quickly looking back at you. The criminal is still hovering on the edges of your vision, even when you focus on the detective. What the hell are you going to do? He’s spotted you—the mission is practically over.

While you’re entirely helpless, Jake seems to come up with an idea. You nod to let him know that you trust him and his expression morphs into a grimace for a fraction of a second. Before you can ask what the grimace is for, Jake’s kissing you. You stiffen for a moment, until you remember that it’s just for cover. You put your hands on his waist and pretend not to notice Augustine hovering near the two of you. You almost forget that you’re on a mission, that you’re hiding in plain sight from one of the most prolific criminals in the city. Unfortunately, a pointed cough breaks you out of your thoughts and you remember the man’s presence. Jake and you break apart quickly.

“Oh, we’re so sorry,” Jake apologizes smoothly, a graceful smile on his face. You conjure up an embarrassed expression, which isn’t exactly hard to do given the situation. Your grip slips from Jake’s waist, but he grabs your hand and interlaces your fingers. The rest of the conversation begins to escape your notice, as Jake prattles on about engagement, dating, and other things. Eventually, the criminal seems satisfied, because he walks away. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Jake and you wait a few minutes before following Augustine’s lead and walking outside. It appears he’s taking the package to a park. Thankfully, you don’t have any close calls and the criminal is soon gone. Jake and you position yourselves so that the package is within sight. You then turn to Jake. “I can’t believe you named me fucking Casper,” you blurt out, the moment the two of you are safely away from prying eyes. “As in… Casper the Friendly Ghost. Really?”

“Hey, Casper is a cinematic masterpiece,” Jake remarks, sending you a disbelieving glare. He looks behind him at the package—it’s still there. The detective turns back to look at you again. “Besides, it was the first thing I thought of.”

“I’m so glad that I resemble a ghost in your mind’s eye,” you scoff. Jake rolls his eyes, evidently not wanting to even dignify your remark with a comment. For a few moments, there is nothing but silence. You look around the tree you’re hiding behind. There’s no one near the package.

“Ugh, I’m starving,” Jake groans, drawing your attention back to him. “Never actually ate anything in the restaurant.” You nod in agreement. Neither of you ended up even touching your plates. It really was a dine and dash, but without the dining. You shove your hands in your pockets, feeling a little restless.

“Know what I’m getting on my way home?” You grin, excited to brag about your future meal.

“Yeah,” Jake nods quickly, before proceeding to rattle off your favorite meal. It takes you a few moments to process that he gets everything correct, down to the tiny details of your favorite drink and what restaurant you’ll go to. You blink at him a few times.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to get,” you agree, staring at him in disbelief. Jake nods and sends a glance over his shoulder, evidently checking if the handoff is taking place. You take the opportunity to dissect the expression on his face. He didn’t seem to make that comment out of jest. You suppose you underestimated how well he knows you.

“I will be having pizza,” Jake announces, an excited grin on his face. “Two Meat Supremes from Tony’s, served display temperature.” You can’t help but grimace.

“That’s gross.” You shudder at the thought of eating lukewarm pizza that had been sitting on a display all day. You love pizza, of course, but display pizza is an entirely different beast. You look over to the package, only to find that there’s someone standing near it. Fuck. “Jake-”

“It’s not cold,” Jake tries to justify, rolling his eyes. “It’s just… significantly less warm than it should be.” As much as you’d love to spend far too much time debating with Jake over the morality of display pizza, you have other things to worry about—namely, the mission.

“No, Jake, he’s looking at us,” you hiss, brutally aware of the guy staring at you. You have to do something and you have to do it quickly. Fuck! There’s nothing you can do. Except… “Well, I guess we’re doing this.” You take a deep breath.

“What-”

This time, you’re the one to make the first move. You grab his collar and surge forward, kissing him before you can think to hesitate. For a selfish moment, you let the assignment, the criminals, and everything simply fade from your mind. It’s just Jake and you. Surprisingly, Jake doesn’t stiffen or freeze up. Rather, he reacts immediately—his hands snake up your waist and he pulls you flush against him. Unfortunately, you don’t have the time to savor the moment, and you have to break apart so the criminal doesn’t get away.

“NYPD, you’re under arrest!” You yell, gun pointed at the man. Jake seems to recover a few seconds later, and he pops out from behind the tree to stand next to you. “Hands up in the air.” You’re expecting Jake to make a characteristically badly timed remark about the two of you being only partners, but amazingly enough, he doesn’t say anything. You decide to focus on alerting Rosa and Boyle, who are quick to finish apprehending the criminal and send him on his way. Before long, the four of you are piled back in the van.

“How’d it go?” Charles is quick to break the somewhat awkward silence that had descended upon the vehicle. He is nearly bouncing in his seat, evidently asking for some sort of explanation. You don’t know how to rationalize what just happened, admittedly.

“So normal,” you blurt out, immediately wincing at how strained your voice sounds. Jake is sitting up front next to Rosa, so you can’t see his expression. Unfortunately, you’re too discombobulated to maintain an unaffected appearance. Charles’s gaze is digging into the side of your face and you’re just about to make up another stupid excuse when Jake interjects.

“We kissed.” You inhale sharply, not expecting him to outright say it. Although, now you’re glad that you can’t see Jake’s face, because it would surely be twisted in discomfort.

“What?” Charles screeches, his energy somehow increasing even more. He looks at you giddily. You’re not quite sure what to say, so you instead look to the side and remain silent. Your heart is hammering in your chest. “Tell me everything!” Charles grabs your shoulders and starts shaking you.

“We had to do it, um, to maintain cover,” you manage to choke out, only sounding rather strangled. Your remark doesn’t seem to convince Charles, because he only exhibits more energy and excitement. You’re certain that he’d hit his head on the ceiling if you weren’t sitting in a big ass van. As is, he’s making you dizzy just looking at him.

“To maintain cover,” Jake reiterates. This remark seems to go in one of Charles’s ears and right out the other. The rest of the car ride is split between Charles asking you for explicit details and Rosa telling him off for shouting, but smirking in the rearview mirror all the same.

Finally, after what seems like an infinitely painful amount of time, you’re back at the precinct. The four of you briefly stop by your desks before walking back out to the parking lot. Boyle carts Rosa off somewhere—evidently to a birthday surprise of sorts—which leaves Jake and you. The two of you are silent as you walk down the path towards the parking lot.

“What do you say to display-temperature pizza?” Jake asks, shoving his hands in his pockets. He seems uncharacteristically restless, for some reason. You try to think about what could be making him so nervous, but nothing comes to mind.

“I say hell no,” you shake your head, unable to shake the shiver that goes down your spine. Jake’s face quickly falls and you realize that you’re likely giving him the wrong impression. You do want to go with him. You just… don’t want to eat lukewarm display pizza. “How about takeout?” Jake raises his eyebrows at you, evidently not expecting you to offer an alternative.

“Yeah, sure,” Jake agrees. There’s a dazed expression on his face as he looks at you. He’s squinting at you as if trying to discern if you’re joking. Evidently, Jake must realize that you’re entirely serious, because he nods. “Cool, cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool… Cool.” He pushes his hands further in his pockets and then frowns.

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

“Um… I don’t have my keys, actually,” Jake remarks, after searching his jacket and pant pockets several times. You take a deep breath and motion for him to follow you to your car. After getting in your car, Jake is visibly stiff. “This is cool. Cool, cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool… cool.” You roll your eyes and pull out of the parking lot with an exasperated smile on your face.

#b99 #b99 x reader #b99 x male reader #Jake peralta x reader #Jake peralta x male reader #male reader #x male reader #masc reader #transmasc reader

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absurdthirst · 3 years ago

Text

Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels MasterList

**All ratings are individual to each story. Read warnings and tags at the top of the stories.

Requested Scenarios

First Time Masterlist - Vigin!Reader

The Mission Masterlist

Chapel of Love

Fera Flores - Sex Pollen

Whips and Chains Excite Me

Experimental Love - Sex Pollen

Birthday Morning Wake Up

Say My Name

The Man with the Golden Whip

Christmas in Cabo

Whiskey’s Sugar

Role of a Lifetime - PornStar!Whiskey

First Comes Marriage

Finding the Right Note - Country Star!Jack Daniels

Unwillingly Bonded {Alpha!Agent Whiskey x F!Omega!Reader}

Whiskey & Baby Girl {PornStar!Jack Daniels x PlusSized!F!Reader}

#agent whiskey #jack daniels #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey fanfic #agent whiskey imagine #jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels smut #jack daniels imagine #jack daniels fanfic #agent whiskey masterlist #absurdthirst masterlist

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how-masterful · 3 years ago

Text

Remastered

Dhawan!Master x Reader

The Power of The Doctor - Part One

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

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

Warnings: Cannon typical violence, mentions of death

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh go on, what’ve you got so far?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Master chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because this is the day you are erased.”

“I’ve dealt with that before-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Give her a gun.”

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tsarina, Rasputin and Mrs Dubrovina approaches.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I simply fear-”

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

“But how-”

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

“Are my eyes not full of certainty?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you offering frequent foe stamp cards?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aur naur, hit a nerve did I?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Did I?”

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

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

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

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kate sighed, stepping forwards and taking control.

“Show’s over. Take him away.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you going?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The woman smiled, placing a hand upon her stomach.

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

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

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

The Tsar nodded in agreement, his eyebrows furrowing.

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

Rasputin stepped nearer.

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

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

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

“And I will obey you.”

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

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

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

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

“You alright?”

“No… the toy-”

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

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

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

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

“How the hell is he doing that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you keep calling it a she?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right by my side.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How cute.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was truly no place like home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Master simply winked in reply.

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