Disclaimer: The BBC owns and has the rights to Doctor Who, I do not. No copyright infringement is intended and no money/profit is being made, this fanfiction is for entertainment purposes only. Please support the official show etc.

Rated M. Warnings: This contains strong language, sexually suggestive themes, violence, emotional torment, toxic relationships, sci-fi and overall dark and disturbing themes. Also there are spoilers for Seasons 8, 9 and possibly Classic Who.

Pairing: Missy x Twelth Doctor.

A/N: This is a story exploring the relationship between Missy and the Twelth Doctor. It will be quite surreal and less structured than a traditional fic but it is going somwhere, and will be quite the emotional rollercoaster.

Forget words because the looks say it all.

Taboo communication that can be picked up on if you take notice, observe the intimate glances between seemingly harsh words. It was obvious to any truly optimistic observer with even a hint of real self-knowledge that the Doctor didn't intend to disintegrate her in that graveyard.

After time had passed they collided again on a space station casino. That irreverant laugh, the dramatic style and those accusing eyes-none of it could hide the ruthless killer that he reached out to hold. Another kiss from those scarlet lips scorched through his soul like wildfire...when had he started to like this?

"Who are you?!" The security had surrounded them.

"Lady Luck..and yours has run out darlings! Say something nice!"

"FIRE!"

Missy teleported the pair of them to his TARDIS just in time before she set off a bomb with a device and BOOM!

As they watched the explosion together he realises that the fire is hot but the molten stare she fixes him with as she takes his hand burns. The Doctor stands there transfixed for just a little too long before he pulls away in disgust.

"YOU!..." The Doctor shouts in frustration and sorrow as he wonders just how she can be so cruel-and how can he still love her for it? Missy gifts him with a knowing smile so the Doctor looks back down at his own hands and he remembers that they are also bloodstained. He returns her gaze with a grim determination and if you were really looking...an acceptance that a good man could never admit to.