Bless; A Mad Love Story by commodoresexual (Various)
Fandom: DOCTOR WHO
Pairing: Master/Lucy
Length: ~35,200
Author on LJ: commodoresexual
Author Website: N/A
Why this must be read:
The Series 2 finale gave us the much anticipated return of the Master, but he showed up on our tv screens alongside a companion of his own. Bless follows the Saxons from beginning to end (and beyond). Showing two people that found in each other exactly what they had always been looking for; never mind that they're both batshit crazy.
She hesitated, momentarily, before pressing the CD into the player in her car, starting up the engine and pulling out to swing her car down the long, wooded drive. There was the rasp of silence, and then the song beat started, low and intent, fast and quick like the pulse of a heart. It pulled a pleased noise from her throat. She found herself moving her fingers almost immediately, imitating Harold’s tap-tap-tap against her steering wheel.
The song whispered into her ears, as she hit the gas pedal the moment she cleared the front gates. Everybody wants me to be their angel - Everybody wants something they can cradle. She turned her car away from the outlying country, but rather towards London’s suburbs. They don't know I burn. She didn’t want the peace of the rolling hills. She needed the lights, the noise, something to drive away the silence of all her thoughts. They don't know I burn. She had told him, ‘I loathe the quiet’.
He knew, didn’t he, about her? That she didn’t like the quiet places in her mind - didn’t like what they meant about her. Maybe there's a devil (or something like it) inside -Maybe there's a devil (or something like it) inside of me. She abhorred violence, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t vicious. She wasn’t clever or witty, but that didn’t mean she lacked wiles. Devil inside of me. He saw all that. He saw the real her. Jealous angel deep inside me. So who was the real Harold Saxon?
The song repeated itself, reverberating through her veins. You don't know cuz you're too busy reading labels. Crooning to all those darker impulses buried deep within a proper British politician’s daughter. You're missing all the action underneath my table. Trained to be such by an unsympathetic mother and imprinted on by two older siblings who enjoyed inflicting casual cruelty on the baby in the family. I'm waiting for my turn. Only her father knew what swam to the surface. Waiting for my turn. Of course, until recently, it was only her father who encouraged those thoughts. Just waiting for my turn -Just waiting for my turn.
She pulled over, and put on the parking brake, turning to look at the house she had stopped in front of. A light burned in the front window, welcoming her. She turned off the car, the song still playing inside her head as she closed the car door, shivering a little in the cold London night. She opened the gate - did the curtains flutter open briefly - past the well-tended but tiny front garden and up to the large black oak door.
Her hand was raised to knock, when the door opened, and she found herself staring up at the man who called himself Harold Saxon, silhouetted in the dim light. He looked different - she wasn’t sure if it was because he was dressed only in slacks and unbuttoned white shirt, his hair mussed - or the look in his eyes. Like he knew that she was coming, that it was inevitable that she arrived here. She looked at him, speaking quietly, her breath turning to smoke. “Who are you, really?”
He held out his hand, and she placed her gloved one within it, letting him draw her inside. The door shut behind her, but all she could see now was him. His face was so solemn, so serious, as he took her other hand and started to draw off her gloves, his voice soft. “I’m darkness. I’m rage embodied. I’m absolute madness.”
He held her hands now, skin against skin, and he pulled them to him, placing them against his chest. Her eyes widened as she felt two separate beats beneath her fingers. He leaned closer, making her hands brush across his bare skin, whispering. “I’m an alien - a Time Lord - a Dark God who has traveled the length of space and all known universes.”
She moved closer, pressing her cheek against his bare chest, listening to those heartbeats - thudding along - drumming peacefully in her ear. Her voice was soft. “Why are you here?”
“To conquer, to destroy. To rebuild in my own image - a better, purer world.” His hands slid along her shoulders, pulling her coat away, tossing it on the floor. “Then maybe the drums … the drums will let me rest. Can you hear them, Lucy? Can you hear the drums?”
“Yes … yes and they are glorious.” She sighs as she leaned back, looking at him. “Why am I here?”
“Because I want you. Because I need you.” He touched her cheek, his voice gentling. “Surely you know - there’s no one else like you. I need a companion - and you are perfection.” He leaned in to her, and his skin was so warm, and his hearts beat so loud. “I’ll give you everything. I’ll give you the world, Lucy Cole.”
She sighed. Yes, yes. This is what she had been waiting for. Her fingers slide up his chest, down his stomach. “Oh … you know. I don’t know what to call you.”
He smiled that little smile, tilting in. “I’m called The Master.”
“Appropriate… but not so much for public appearances? Definitely not in your biography.” She murmured, silenced as his lips touched hers, and they were fire and ice - every star in the universe dying at once.
He smiled again, and the stars smiled with him against her mouth, as he muttered. “Call me Harry.” He kissed her again, and she held on as they burned the stars together.
Here Come The Drums (1,680 words; PG)
Devil Inside (2,405 words; PG-13)
Domesticity (2,506 words; PG-13)
Bassinet (4,623 words; PG-13)
Blood Calls To Blood (4,033 words; R)
Wasted (7,280 words; NC-17)
The Game’s Afoot (7,200 words; PG)
A Full-Scale Invasion of Archaic Human Rituals (5,503 words; PG)
Pairing: Master/Lucy
Length: ~35,200
Author on LJ: commodoresexual
Author Website: N/A
Why this must be read:
The Series 2 finale gave us the much anticipated return of the Master, but he showed up on our tv screens alongside a companion of his own. Bless follows the Saxons from beginning to end (and beyond). Showing two people that found in each other exactly what they had always been looking for; never mind that they're both batshit crazy.
She hesitated, momentarily, before pressing the CD into the player in her car, starting up the engine and pulling out to swing her car down the long, wooded drive. There was the rasp of silence, and then the song beat started, low and intent, fast and quick like the pulse of a heart. It pulled a pleased noise from her throat. She found herself moving her fingers almost immediately, imitating Harold’s tap-tap-tap against her steering wheel.
The song whispered into her ears, as she hit the gas pedal the moment she cleared the front gates. Everybody wants me to be their angel - Everybody wants something they can cradle. She turned her car away from the outlying country, but rather towards London’s suburbs. They don't know I burn. She didn’t want the peace of the rolling hills. She needed the lights, the noise, something to drive away the silence of all her thoughts. They don't know I burn. She had told him, ‘I loathe the quiet’.
He knew, didn’t he, about her? That she didn’t like the quiet places in her mind - didn’t like what they meant about her. Maybe there's a devil (or something like it) inside -Maybe there's a devil (or something like it) inside of me. She abhorred violence, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t vicious. She wasn’t clever or witty, but that didn’t mean she lacked wiles. Devil inside of me. He saw all that. He saw the real her. Jealous angel deep inside me. So who was the real Harold Saxon?
The song repeated itself, reverberating through her veins. You don't know cuz you're too busy reading labels. Crooning to all those darker impulses buried deep within a proper British politician’s daughter. You're missing all the action underneath my table. Trained to be such by an unsympathetic mother and imprinted on by two older siblings who enjoyed inflicting casual cruelty on the baby in the family. I'm waiting for my turn. Only her father knew what swam to the surface. Waiting for my turn. Of course, until recently, it was only her father who encouraged those thoughts. Just waiting for my turn -Just waiting for my turn.
She pulled over, and put on the parking brake, turning to look at the house she had stopped in front of. A light burned in the front window, welcoming her. She turned off the car, the song still playing inside her head as she closed the car door, shivering a little in the cold London night. She opened the gate - did the curtains flutter open briefly - past the well-tended but tiny front garden and up to the large black oak door.
Her hand was raised to knock, when the door opened, and she found herself staring up at the man who called himself Harold Saxon, silhouetted in the dim light. He looked different - she wasn’t sure if it was because he was dressed only in slacks and unbuttoned white shirt, his hair mussed - or the look in his eyes. Like he knew that she was coming, that it was inevitable that she arrived here. She looked at him, speaking quietly, her breath turning to smoke. “Who are you, really?”
He held out his hand, and she placed her gloved one within it, letting him draw her inside. The door shut behind her, but all she could see now was him. His face was so solemn, so serious, as he took her other hand and started to draw off her gloves, his voice soft. “I’m darkness. I’m rage embodied. I’m absolute madness.”
He held her hands now, skin against skin, and he pulled them to him, placing them against his chest. Her eyes widened as she felt two separate beats beneath her fingers. He leaned closer, making her hands brush across his bare skin, whispering. “I’m an alien - a Time Lord - a Dark God who has traveled the length of space and all known universes.”
She moved closer, pressing her cheek against his bare chest, listening to those heartbeats - thudding along - drumming peacefully in her ear. Her voice was soft. “Why are you here?”
“To conquer, to destroy. To rebuild in my own image - a better, purer world.” His hands slid along her shoulders, pulling her coat away, tossing it on the floor. “Then maybe the drums … the drums will let me rest. Can you hear them, Lucy? Can you hear the drums?”
“Yes … yes and they are glorious.” She sighs as she leaned back, looking at him. “Why am I here?”
“Because I want you. Because I need you.” He touched her cheek, his voice gentling. “Surely you know - there’s no one else like you. I need a companion - and you are perfection.” He leaned in to her, and his skin was so warm, and his hearts beat so loud. “I’ll give you everything. I’ll give you the world, Lucy Cole.”
She sighed. Yes, yes. This is what she had been waiting for. Her fingers slide up his chest, down his stomach. “Oh … you know. I don’t know what to call you.”
He smiled that little smile, tilting in. “I’m called The Master.”
“Appropriate… but not so much for public appearances? Definitely not in your biography.” She murmured, silenced as his lips touched hers, and they were fire and ice - every star in the universe dying at once.
He smiled again, and the stars smiled with him against her mouth, as he muttered. “Call me Harry.” He kissed her again, and she held on as they burned the stars together.
Here Come The Drums (1,680 words; PG)
Devil Inside (2,405 words; PG-13)
Domesticity (2,506 words; PG-13)
Bassinet (4,623 words; PG-13)
Blood Calls To Blood (4,033 words; R)
Wasted (7,280 words; NC-17)
The Game’s Afoot (7,200 words; PG)
A Full-Scale Invasion of Archaic Human Rituals (5,503 words; PG)