The Master cranes back his long slender neck and smirks over one shoulder at the Doctor.
“Not really. No one embodies the term ‘warm fuzzies’ quite so aptly as you, ‘Oncoming Storm,’” he gently goads. “And now what? Have you caught me at last, Doctor?”
The Doctor chuckles at his reaction. Her surprise may have failed but that wasn’t stopping her.
“It seems I have most definitely caught you, Master.” She says with a smirk as she pulls herself closer, refusing to release her hold, “Unfortunately for you, I have no intention of letting you go, you got that? You’re all mine. Besides, you look like you need some Doctor, eh?”
Koschei chuckles, a rumbling deep in his diaphragm that’s far smugger than his usual bawdy cackle.
“Well o-kay, I’m flexible,” he drawls, and in one powerful motion, he lifts her off her feet and piggybacks her about as he conducts his desired tasks.
“Would you like a soda while you’re oop there, dear?”
Send “Sleep already!” for a starter where my muse is very clearly sleep-deprived, but refuses to sleep.
The Master’s mania is ill-slaked by the booming command of another forceful personality. He stops what he’s doing, turns and rears up to his full height (five feet, nine inches) and curls his lip majestically at Thor.
“No,” is his withering and throughly mature retort.
For a moment, however, he forgets how to filter language from his brain to his mouth, and blinks in a weeklong sleepness daze at the god, before his eyes refocus, and he nods sharply, as though pleased by his own wisdom.
“Yes well, I suppose it’s a matter of you wanting a passable substitute, or the delicious genuine article that is me.”
Now might not be the most apt time to tell the Doctor that he’s been eating custard creams out of the TARDIS dispenser night and day, and this may be the reason for the slightest plumping of his midsection in past months … .
The Master’s been staring fixedly at the horizon, on the planet where they’ve stopped their TARDIS. It’s another planet, far, far from the system of Kastobouros, that happens to orbit two suns. They set, now, and the sky is ablaze with blood red: their signature hue.
As his future dozes with her head on his shoulder, he rests his cheek on top of unruly dark hair.
“Careful, someone might just accuse us of being cute.”
Missy chuckled a little as she looked at the view before them. “Oh hush, no one would dare to tell us that, even if it’s true.” She said sleepily, obviously not in her right mind when she was tired. “You’re comfy, Junior”
He turns to look down at her, from their seat on top of the inexplicable giant Greek column that is their TARDIS’s guise. He dons an insulted air, though he’s entirely joking.
“What d’you bloody mean? I’m adorable.”
She shifted a bit to look up at him. “Oi, don’t get all flustered on me, you are adorable alright?” She chuckled and nuzzled a bit onto his neck, feeling all comfy now. She didn’t want to move. “Cute, adorable, is there any other thing you want to add to the list? Cause I can still think of a few while I’m awake.”
“ … .why, my beautiful, dangerous, ingenious minx … ”
Icarus 