#matt smith one shot

[xx-dinah-writing-xx]

Hey! I love your writings and I'd be happy if you write something with Matt Smith and reader who plays Daenerys Targaryen. Thanks 😊💗

Chemistry, cut

Matt Smith x reader

suggestive content, smutty (but not really a smut) warnings: explicit sexual content, workplace sexual activity, deception (hiding relationship), alcohol use (cast party), power imbalance (celebrity dynamics, consensual), strong language, objectification (in context), fingering in public/semi-public spaces, rough handling

A/N: Can y’all tell I’m like super horny for Matthew?? The way I need that man is actually unholy. If anyone ever leaked the notes on my laptop, I’d need a full-blown exorcism and possibly a legal team. This one’s chill though. Yeah, it’s explicit, but not like, combusting-level filth. Just a little feral. A reasonable amount of slutty..

————

The interviewer leans forward, a half-smile curling at the corner of her glossed lips, fingertips grazing the cue cards. You already know what’s coming before she says it.

“So,” she begins, eyes flicking between you and Matt, “have you watched House of the Dragon yet? Considering… you know. Daenerys and Daemon.”

Your stomach tightens. You knew someone would bring it up.

Matt’s already glancing sideways at you, cheekbones tight with a teasing grin. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t interrupt, just waits.

You give a small laugh, then shift in your seat. “Actually… no,” you say honestly, brushing some invisible lint off your pants. “I haven’t watched it yet. I’ve seen clips, obviously. Matt in that platinum wig? Hard to miss. But…” You pause. “I’m not quite ready to revisit Westeros. Dany was… a lot. She meant a lot to me. And saying goodbye to her wasn’t easy.”

There’s a flicker of something quiet in Matt’s eyes. Respect, maybe. Understanding. You’d never told him that part before, even though he’d mentioned once or twice that she was all over his feed when HotD premiered.

The interviewer nods gently, and the topic shifts, smoothly, mercifully, back to the romcom you're promoting.

“It’s such a fun dynamic between your characters,” she says, now in full PR mode. “Total opposites, trapped together, falling in love… Tell me, how was the chemistry on set?”

Matt speaks before you can. “Electric,” he deadpans, tongue-in-cheek. “Couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”

You roll your eyes, laughing, nudging him with your elbow. “Professionally, of course.”

————

Your back slammed against the trailer wall, your fingers digging into the back of his neck. Matt’s hands slide under your blouse, rough and greedy, shoving it up your ribs like he’s unwrapping a present he’s waited too long to open.

“You’re going to ruin my makeup,” you gasp, but you don’t mean it, not with the way your legs lock around his hips.

“Good thing I like you ruined,” he growls against your neck.

————

“…we just clicked,” you say brightly, blinking as the memory fades. “It’s one of those rare things. You meet someone and, boom, it just works.”

“Purely professional,” Matt adds, giving the camera a crooked little smile that does nothing to hide the wolfish gleam in his eye.

You cross your legs, pressing your thighs together.

“Did you two know each other before filming?”

“A little,” you answer. “He was always the Targaryen I never got to meet.”

“Irony, right?” Matt adds. “We miss each other by a few generations on screen and end up making out in an elevator in this movie.”

————

You’re in the elevator set. Doors just closed. No cameras rolling.

He has you pinned against the mirrored wall, your reflection giving you both front-row seats to the filthiest performance of your lives. His hand disappears beneath your skirt, and you bite down on your fist to keep from making a sound.

“You like when they watch,” he breathes, watching your flushed face in the glass. “Too bad they’ve got no idea.”

————

“What do you think makes this movie special?” the interviewer asks.

“The writing,” you say.

“The cast,” Matt says at the same time, smirking at you. “Well. One cast member in particular.”

You shake your head. “Don’t listen to him.”

“Why not? I’m always right.”

“Oh, really?”

————

You’re riding him in the backseat of a car, one hand braced on the fogged-up window, the other clutching the lapel of his jacket. You're still in costume, trench coat flared open, blouse half-buttoned, but your panties are somewhere on the floor.

“Say it,” he pants, fingers digging into your hips. “Say I’m right.”

You moan instead, and he slaps your ass in warning. “Say it, love.”

“You’re right,” you gasp. “You’re always right.”

————

“People have speculated about your off-screen chemistry,” the interviewer says delicately. “Care to address those rumors?”

You and Matt glance at each other, a shared smirk twitching both your mouths.

“We’re just good scene partners,” you say, too quickly.

“Very professional,” Matt says, too dryly.

————

It’s the cast party. You’re tipsy in your little black dress, heels long forgotten somewhere. Matt’s dragged you into a coat closet, lips feverish on your neck, fingers slipping between your thighs as you squirm in his hold.

“Keep quiet,” he warns, voice thick with desire. “Think you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

You nod. Then immediately moan when he sinks two fingers deep.

————

“So no romance in real life?”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “I think we’re both too chaotic for that.”

You laugh. “Honestly? Probably.”

“But,” he adds, giving the camera a wink, “never say never.”

————

The hotel bed.

You’re naked, stretched across the sheets, and Matt’s between your thighs with a hunger that borders on feral. He makes you come once, twice, before finally fucking you like he’s trying to erase every other man you’ve ever known.

“You’re mine,” he groans, thrusts snapping hard and deep. “Mine off camera, too.”

You claw at his back, too wrecked to lie. “Yours.”

————

“Any future projects together?”

You lean into Matt, flashing a conspiratorial smile. “Hopefully.”

He laces your fingers with his beneath the table, just out of frame.

And when the interview ends and the cameras stop rolling, he leans over to whisper in your ear.

“My trailer. Five minutes.”

You nod, heat already curling low in your belly.

Professional chemistry, you think. Sure.

But no one said you couldn’t enjoy a few... extracurriculars.

[goldensunflowe-r]

My Pinterest feed is whole Targaryen aesthetic!

[therogueflame]

By Fire, By Right

hi lovebugs,

I am SO sorry that this took so long, i just didnt have the motivation to do it. i did not proofread before posting. is it obvious i wrote this in an hour? oopsies. This one is shorter than both the Small Council and Steel and Silk, but thats bc it has literally 0 plot. none. zilch. enjoy

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Summary: On the night of your wedding, beneath the glow of candlelight and the weight of ancient vows, Aegon takes what has always been his.

WC: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+, Sex (p in v), oral (fem!receiving), no use of y/n, but implied fem!reader

King Aegon II x Wife!Queen!Reader

MDNI!!!!

The bedchamber was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, golden flickers casting shadows over rich silks and cold stone. The air carried the faint scent of dragonfire and myrrh, clinging to your skin, a lingering trace of the vows spoken before gods and men. The chamber had been prepared with great care, the bed draped in deep crimson, an unspoken expectation woven into the hush that settled between you.

The feast had stretched long into the night, filled with wine, music, and endless toasts to your health and happiness. Lords had lifted their cups in grand displays, their words full of empty flattery, their voices loud with drunken revelry. The finest dishes in the realm had been set before you, the grandest musicians had played their songs, but none of it had mattered.

Not to him.

Aegon had barely touched his cup, ignoring the endless flow of wine that had been pressed into his hands throughout the night. His focus had remained on you, his gaze steady, his expression unreadable but intent. There had been no outward impatience, no sign of discontent, yet the way he had watched you told you everything. He had been waiting for this moment more than he cared to admit.

Now, at last, you were alone.

The chamber doors had closed behind you, shutting out the sounds of the lingering celebration, leaving only the crackle of the hearthfire and the quiet rhythm of your own breath.

Aegon sat at the edge of the marriage bed, his tunic loose at the collar, exposing a sliver of his chest. His crown lay discarded on a nearby table, its weight abandoned for the night. His violet eyes roamed over you, the same way they always had, but tonight, something had changed.

You had been his before this night. In whispers exchanged beneath the cover of darkness. In hands that had learned the shape of you in secret. In nights where restraint had faltered and desire had outweighed duty. In the way he reached for you when no one was looking, in the way he had always pulled you closer rather than let you go.

Yet tonight was different.

There was no need for secrecy, no need to slip away before the dawn. There were no barriers left between you, no pretense, no stolen moment that had to end before it had truly begun. Tonight, he did not have to claim you in haste. Tonight, you were his, and he was yours, and there was nowhere left to run.

"You are staring," you said, stepping closer, your fingers reaching for the ties at his sleeves.

Aegon did not blink, did not look away. The candlelight cast shadows across his sharp features, making the violet of his eyes seem darker, more intense. His lips curved, slow and knowing, but he did not move. He let you come to him, let you reach for him, let you think you had the upper hand.

Before you could undo the laces at his wrist, he caught your hands. His grip was firm but unhurried, his touch more possessive than forceful. His thumb brushed lazily over your pulse, his touch warm and deliberate as he studied you, taking his time. He looked at you as if he had all the time in the world.

A smirk tugged at his lips, the same self-assured expression he always wore when he knew he had already won. "Can you blame me?" His voice was low, rough with amusement, but beneath it lay something else, something heavier.

His fingers curled around your wrists, holding them in place as his gaze roamed over you. He did not speak immediately, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make you feel the weight of his attention. Then, finally, he murmured, "I have had you before, but tonight, you are mine in every way."

Heat curled in your stomach, pooling low as the words settled between you. You had always known him to be like this—arrogant, indulgent, utterly shameless in his claims over you—but there was something else in the way he looked at you now. There was no teasing lilt, no boyish grin. He was not just claiming you because he could. He was claiming you because, tonight, there was no need to steal anything. Tonight, nothing could take you from him.

"You have always been mine," you reminded him, tilting your chin up slightly. Your voice was steady, but you could hear the breathlessness in it, feel the way your heart pounded against your ribs.

His smirk widened, a spark of challenge flickering in his eyes. "Then let me remind you."

He pulled you onto his lap with practiced ease, his hands finding your waist and settling there as if they had always belonged. His grip was firm, his thumbs pressing into the fabric of your wedding gown as though he wished to tear through it, but he did not rush.

He exhaled slowly, the warmth of his breath brushing against your throat. He did not kiss you. Not yet. Instead, he lingered there, his lips grazing your skin, savoring the moment before he took what he already knew was his.

"This should feel no different," he murmured, his voice quieter now. His hands tightened at your waist, his hold possessive. "And yet."

You let out a slow breath, fingers threading through his golden hair, savoring the softness of it, the familiar heat of him.

"And yet," you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

The weight of the night settled between you, thick with something deeper than desire. This was Not a secret meeting behind closed doors. Not a rushed moment stolen between responsibilities. No hushed whispers in darkened corridors, no hurried touches before duty called you away. There was no shame, no fear of discovery, nothing left to keep you apart.

Only certainty.

Aegon cupped your cheek, his fingers warm against your skin as he tilted your face to his. His touch was not demanding but deliberate, his gaze searching yours in the dim candlelight. The teasing edge he so often carried had melted into something softer, something deeper.

"Let me take my time with you," he murmured, his voice quieter now, heavy with something unspoken. "Tonight, I have no reason to rush."

The words sent a slow warmth through you, one that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with him. There was a promise in them, an unspoken vow that had nothing to do with duty or expectation. This was not a night for reckless passion or frantic need. It was a night for something greater.

You smiled, pressing your forehead to his, your touch soft and knowing. "Then take all the time you need."

Aegon let out a slow breath, one that felt almost like relief, before his lips found yours.

The kiss was slow and deep, nothing like the frenzied nights before. It was not a desperate claim or a demand but a confirmation of what had always been. He was yours, and you were his.

His hands skimmed over your back, moving with deliberate ease, gliding down the curve of your spine until his fingers found the delicate lacing that held your gown in place. He did not fumble, did not rush. Each tug and pull of the ties was patient, a testament to his practiced skill. As the fabric slackened and slipped away from your shoulders, he bent forward, pressing his lips to the newly revealed skin, his warm breath brushing against you like a whispered secret.

"I have dreamed of this moment," he murmured, his voice a low, velvety rasp against your skin. "Of undressing you slowly, savoring every inch of you."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, not from nerves but from the weight of them. You knew he spoke the truth. In all the times he had touched you before, there had always been a lingering urgency, a stolen moment that could not last long enough. But now there was no need for restraint, no need to keep his hands from wandering or his mouth from lingering.

Slowly, the layers of your wedding gown pooled around you, the rich fabric forgotten as it slid from your body. You were left in nothing but your shift, the delicate linen barely concealing the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips. Aegon’s hands traced every inch of bare skin, his fingers gliding along the newly exposed flesh as if learning you all over again.

He was in no rush to claim you, no rush to take what had already been his in every way but this one. Instead, he took his time, savoring each touch, each brush of his lips, each soft sound that escaped you as he worshipped every inch of you.

He had called you his queen before the realm, but here, beneath the glow of candlelight, he made you feel like one.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered against your neck, his lips trailing down to your collarbone.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he continued to explore your body with eager hands. The heat between you grew with each passing second, a slow burn that promised to consume you both. With a low growl, Aegon stood, lifting you with him. He carried you over to the bed and gently placed you down on the soft furs. His eyes drank in every inch of your exposed skin before he joined you on the bed.

He hovered over you, his weight resting on his forearms as he gazed down at you with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

Aegon's lips claimed yours once more in a kiss filled with passion and longing. His hands roamed over your body with an urgency that drove any coherent thoughts from your mind. Your own hands were busy too – eagerly exploring every inch of his hard, muscular frame.

His hands continued their deliberate exploration, carefully peeling away the layers of your gown with a tenderness that belied his strength. Each new patch of skin, exposed to the cool air, was immediately claimed by his lips, his tongue, or the gentle scrape of his teeth, leaving a trail of tingling warmth in their wake. You arched into his touch, your breath hitching as he lingered on particularly sensitive spots, drawing out soft gasps of pleasure.

“You're still wearing too much,” you murmured, your fingers tugging insistently at the hem of his tunic.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated against your skin. “Patience, my love. We have all night.”

Nevertheless, he released you momentarily, just long enough to pull the garment over his head, revealing the hard planes of his body. The flickering candlelight danced across his skin, highlighting every taut muscle and old scar. Your hands roamed eagerly over his chest, tracing the ridges of past battles and the firm definition of his abdomen, each touch reaffirming the magnetic pull between you.

Aegon's eyes darkened with lust as you explored his body. He captured your lips again, the kiss deeper and more urgent now. His hands slid down to your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled you closer. You could feel the heat of his arousal pressing against you through the remaining layers of fabric.

"I want to see all of you," he breathed against your mouth. With a fluid motion, he lifted you and laid you back on the bed. His gaze raked over you hungrily as he slowly removed the last of your gown, leaving you bare before him.

You flushed under his intense scrutiny, but there was no shame in it. This was your husband, your king, the man who had chosen you above all others. You reached for him, drawing him down to you.

Aegon's body covered yours, his weight a delicious pressure as he settled between your thighs. His lips found yours again, the kiss deep and consuming. You ran your hands down his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his skin as he moved against you.

"You are exquisite," he murmured, trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck. His hand cupped your breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

Aegon's lips moved with deliberate precision, tracing the path of his hand and leaving a trail of warmth that seemed to ignite your skin. He devoted himself to your breasts, switching between tender, feather-like touches and more demanding caresses that pulled involuntary gasps of his name from your lips.

Your fingers wove into the soft strands of his hair as he descended lower, planting a series of open-mouthed kisses across your abdomen. Each press of his lips made your breath catch in your throat as Aegon's mouth journeyed further down, his tongue crafting intricate patterns on your flushed skin. He lingered at your hip, delivering a playful nip that sent a shiver through you before he soothed the spot with a gentle kiss. His violet eyes, deepened with an intense longing, locked onto yours as he nestled himself between your thighs, ready to explore further.

"I want to taste you," he murmured, his breath hot against your most sensitive flesh. "To savor every part of you."

You nodded, your voice lost in the whirlwind of anticipation as Aegon lowered his mouth to your most intimate place. The first tentative swipe of his tongue sent a jolt of electricity through your body, causing your back to arch off the bed as if pulled by invisible strings, a breathless gasp escaping your lips. His strong hands, firm and steady, clamped onto your hips, anchoring you in place as he embarked on a thorough exploration with lips and tongue, each movement deliberate and expertly executed.

Aegon's dedication was unwavering, his technique a seamless dance between broad, sweeping strokes and precise, focused attention on the sensitive bundle of nerves that sent fireworks exploding behind your closed eyelids. Your fingers instinctively dove into the cascade of his silver-gold hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more as exquisite pleasure coiled tightly within you. Sensing your urgency, Aegon responded with eagerness, his tongue delving deeper, tasting and teasing with an artistry that spoke of familiarity and skill. He knew every curve and contour of your body, understood exactly how to touch you to ignite a fervent, all-consuming desire.

"Aegon," you gasped, your hips rolling against his mouth. "Please..."

He hummed a low, resonant tune against your collarbone, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, like ripples on a pond's surface. His left hand remained firmly on your hip, fingers pressing into your soft flesh, while his right hand began a slow, tantalizing journey up your trembling thigh. You felt each of his calloused fingertips as they inched higher, teasing at your entrance, circling slowly before pressing inside with deliberate care. The dual sensation of his tongue, warm and wet, drawing circles on your clit, and his fingers curling inside you, stroking your inner walls, had you careening towards the edge of ecstasy.

Aegon's ministrations grew more intense, his fingers working in tandem with his tongue, a harmonious dance designed to bring you closer and closer to the peak. His tongue lapped against you, alternating between swift flicks and long, languid strokes, while his fingers crooked inside you, beckoning forth your orgasm. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your chest heaving as your body trembled with need, muscles tensing in anticipation. When he curled his fingers just so, hitting that perfect spot inside you, a hidden treasure trove of sensation, the tension finally snapped.

Pleasure crashed over you in waves, a relentless tide that left you crying out his name, your back arching sharply off the bed, sheets fisting in your hands. Aegon didn't relent, drawing out your climax with gentle licks and caresses, his fingers still moving languidly inside you, until you were quivering and oversensitive, your body pulsing with aftershocks. Only then did he press a final, tender kiss to your inner thigh, his stubble grazing your sensitive skin, before moving back up your body. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, and you could taste your own saltiness on his tongue, a primal, intimate exchange.

Aegon's body pressed against yours, his arousal evident as he settled between your thighs. His violet eyes were dark with desire as he gazed down at you, a mix of tenderness and hunger in his expression. You reached up to cup his face, drawing him down for another kiss.

"I need you," you whispered against his lips, your body still thrumming with aftershocks of pleasure.

Aegon's hand glided down the curve of your waist, his fingers tracing the contours of your body before firmly gripping your thigh. He gently lifted your leg, draping it over his hip, aligning himself at your entrance with careful precision. The warmth radiating from him was palpable, hinting at the imminent intimacy you both craved.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Aegon leaned forward, his chest pressing against yours as he enveloped you in a close embrace. Both of you gasped, a shared intake of breath as the familiar, electrifying sensation of him filling you completely surged through your senses. He paused momentarily, his forehead resting tenderly against yours, your mingled breaths creating a warm, shared space. In response, you rolled your hips with a silent plea, urging him to continue. Aegon responded, establishing a languid pace that had your back arching beneath him, your body instinctively synchronizing with the deep, measured rhythm he set. Each deliberate stroke sent waves of pleasure rippling through you, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist, drawing him closer, urging him deeper into the connection you both shared.

Aegon's rhythm was unhurried and intentional, each movement deliberate as he maintained an unwavering gaze, eyes locked with yours. He moved with a languid grace, each thrust carefully measured to extract the utmost pleasure for both of you. The tension simmered within your core, a coil winding tighter with every precise roll of his hips. When he angled just right, hitting a particularly sensitive spot, a gasp escaped your lips, and your fingers instinctively dug into his shoulders, leaving small crescent-shaped impressions on his skin.

As the fervor of the moment began to consume him, Aegon's pace shifted from steady to frantic. His control wavered, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath a warm, ragged pant against your skin. His movements became more fervent, driven by a primal urgency. You wrapped your arms around him, holding on with desperation, as the overwhelming cascade of sensations threatened to drown you both.

With Aegon's thrusts becoming faster and more intense, your body quivered on the brink of another climax, every nerve electrified. The room reverberated with the melody of your shared passion��sharp, ragged gasps mingling with deep, resonant moans, accompanied by the steady, rhythmic creak of the wooden bed frame beneath you, which groaned in protest with each movement. Your fingers ventured down Aegon's spine, feeling the taut muscles ripple and contract beneath your touch, his skin glistening with a sheen of perspiration that caught the dim candlelight flickering in the chamber.

"Look at me," Aegon commanded, his voice roughened with a primal desire, cutting through the dimly lit atmosphere. You complied, lifting your gaze to meet his, where the intensity of his violet eyes seemed to pierce through you with an almost palpable force. The usual color of his irises was nearly eclipsed by the inky blackness of his pupils, dilated wide with lust, consuming the vibrant hue in a sea of darkness.

As you locked eyes with him, his gaze seemed to pull you into an ocean of intensity, and the room around you blurred into insignificance. Waves of pleasure coursed through your body, each one building upon the last. His hips moved with a relentless rhythm, each thrust more determined than the one before, expertly hitting that perfect spot inside you. You felt yourself hovering on the brink, every nerve tingling with anticipation, so close to that ultimate release.

"Come for me," Aegon growled, his voice a deep, commanding whisper that seemed to vibrate through your very bones. "Let me feel you." His words were a potent mix of demand and encouragement, resonating deep within you and urging you to surrender.

The combination of his words and a particularly deep, precise thrust sent you tumbling over the edge. You cried out his name, your voice echoing with the ecstasy that surged through you, your body tightening around him in response. Aegon's groan was guttural, his rhythm stuttering as your climax triggered his own. With a final, forceful thrust, he drove himself deep within you, releasing as he reached his peak, his body shuddering with the intensity of it all.

For several moments, you both lay entwined, bodies trembling and hearts racing as you came down from the heights of passion. Aegon's weight pressed you into the mattress, a comforting anchor as the room slowly came back into focus. His breath was warm against your neck, each exhale sending a small shiver through you.

Gradually, Aegon lifted his head, his violet eyes meeting yours once more. The intensity from before had softened, replaced by a tender warmth that made your heart swell. He brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his touch gentle, as if savoring the moment.

"My queen," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "My wife."

You smiled up at him, reaching to cup his cheek, your thumb tracing the faint flush that still lingered on his skin. "My king," you replied softly. "My husband."

Aegon exhaled a quiet breath, leaning into your touch. For once, he did not speak, did not smirk or tease. He simply held you, his arms tightening around you as if anchoring himself in your warmth. The weight of the night settled between you, not in duty or expectation, but in something real, something that had always been there, waiting for this moment to be fully realized.

The candles burned low, their golden glow flickering against the chamber walls, casting soft shadows that swayed with the dying light. The world beyond this room, with all its expectations and burdens, had faded into nothing. The court did not matter, nor did the crown or the weight of what tomorrow would bring.

Here, in the quiet of your wedding night, there was only the warmth of his touch, the steady rhythm of his breath, and the unshakable truth that you belonged to each other completely.

Aegon held you close, his arms wrapped around you as if nothing could pull you from him. And for tonight, nothing would.

[dedicatednotobsessed]

Issa byka rūklon [Daemon Targaryen x Wife!reader]

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Other HOTD stories

Summary: Daemon is feared among men for his battle prowess, finding solace and love in his pure sunshine of a wife. One serene evening, amidst impending war, they steal a moment alone. His wife with gentle hands and a heart full of affection, braids Daemon’s hair, weaving delicate flowers into the strands…

*This was a one shot request from a very special person of mine, my bestie @mrsdaemontargaryen I had asked her to send me a prompt because I have been on such a long hiatus from writing. Writer’s block has not been fun {among personal things but let’s not get into that}. Please enjoy this Daemon one shot and soon enough, I will be taking requests again in time for season two. 🖤*

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You placed a hand on the ghost of your swelling stomach, your violet eyes shining from the fireplace’s flames. The incident was still fresh in your mind, your sister’s screams of calling you a traitor ringing in your ears. It wasn’t a surprise to see the twins together in Storm’s End, having been inseparable since birth, but you never thought Adryana* would try to murder you.

You turned your head slightly, hearing the footsteps, letting out a soft sigh, and feeling your husband wrap an arm around your waist and pull you back into his chest. “Is it done?”

Daemon nodded, nuzzling his nose into your silver hair. “Soon enough, she will feel the pain you felt.”

You took a deep breath, looking ahead. When Daemon was writing to his friends in the capital, you had mentioned to him how you wanted Adryana to feel the same pain you felt when she took her unborn babe from you. He added, “Along with the usurper’s son, take the life of his brother’s son.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Daemon whispered in your ear as though he could read your mind. “Those green cunts didn’t feel anything killing Luke and our child. You shouldn’t either.”

You nodded in agreement, furrowing your brows. “Can we go on a walk?” You knew this would be the last calm moment before Westeros is thrown into chaos.

You turned in Daemon’s arms, smiling a small smile when he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course, my love.”

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You wrapped your hands around Daemon’s arm as he led you down the familiar path toward Aegon’s Garden. During the day, it was a favorite spot for your young son, Alyster, to play in; he especially enjoyed the cranberries that grew there. The eye of the dragon statue glistened in the moonlight the closer you got, lifting your dress slightly so it did not drag too much through the grass.

You thanked Daemon quietly when he helped you into the plush grass, a hum passing your lips as you began to pick at the small white wildflowers surrounding you mindlessly. Since you’ve woken up from the incident, the two of you have rarely spent time alone, with Alyster not leaving your side and Daemon being preoccupied with the small council. For the first time in a long time, you felt peace.

Once he sat down, you moved to sit behind your husband, your fingers gingerly taking a section of his hair and beginning to work it in a braid. His hair was not as long as it once was but manageable. You smiled, hearing the light chuckle coming from him.

“What?” You asked as you grabbed one of the wildflowers you picked, placing it carefully within the braid.

Daemon kept his eyes ahead, a small smile forming on his features. “I’m only thinking back to our wedding day.”

“Our wedding day?” You repeated while beginning to braid another section of his hair, adding the little flowers as you went.

Daemon hummed in response. “You wanted to braid my hair that day, too.”

You smiled at the memory. You had a traditional Valyrian wedding against your mother’s wishes. You were never one to listen to your mother, to begin with, having gone against her wishes to become Rhaenyra’s ward at fifteen, shortly after Laena’s funeral, and two years later becoming Daemon’s third wife. Now, at the age of three-and-two, the two of you had a six-year-old son, a son your mother and father only met once.

“I’m hoping this war will be over quickly,” Daemon spoke quietly, breaking the silence.

You hummed, leaning back to examine your creation. “I do not want to talk about war this evening, my love,” You said softly, placing a few more flowers in the braids with a soft smile.

You enjoyed the calm moments while you could, not knowing if this would be your last one together. The war began when Aemond and Adryana struck in Storm’s End, and you knew Daemon would be restless until every one of their heads was on spikes. You were to cherish these moments while they lasted.

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

You hummed as the sun filtered through the windows, stirring slightly only to feel the side beside you cold. You furrowed your brows while rubbing your eyes as you sat up, your stomach still sore from your injuries.

“You do not want to go to the small council like that?” You asked teasingly, seeing Daemon picking out the white flowers, having slept in them.

He chuckled, looking down at the small pile forming beside him at the vanity. “I’m not sure it would be proper attire for a small council meeting.”

You scrunched up your nose while slowly getting out of bed. Wrapping your silken robe around you, you walked up behind your husband, meeting his violet eyes in the mirror.

“Issa byka rūklon*,” Daemon said softly, placing his hand on your arm when you wrapped them around his neck.

You hummed lightly. “I prefer when you call me aōha vēzos*.”

Daemon laughed. “No one else can hear that.”

You smirked, moving back so Daemon could get up. You straightened his doublet for him, scrunching up your nose when he placed two fingers under your chin, making you look up.

“I love you, Y/N,” Daemon whispered, moving his hand to your cheek.

“I love you too,” You replied, meeting his lips in a short, sweet kiss.

You watched him pull away after a moment, a small smirk forming on your features. You noticed the stray flower tucked in the waves of his hair.

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

“You’re late, Daemon,” Corlys spoke up, seeing the Prince enter the council chambers.

“You should already know that I enjoy making late, dramatic entrances,” Daemon replied simply, sliding into the empty seat on Rhaenyra’s right.

Rhaenyra eyed her uncle curiously, tilting her head. “Daemon,” She called to him, clearing her throat while motioning to her hair.

Daemon furrowed his brows, reaching up to feel the soft petals of the single wildflower he had forgotten about. He untangled it from his hair, looking down at it with a soft sigh.

“Is the Rogue Prince going soft?” Lord Celtigar questioned with a laugh.

“I believe he is,” Corlys agreed.

Daemon only scoffed as the Black Council erupted in laughter, Rhaenyra even adding a giggle of her own. He sighed as the jesting continued around him, his eyes staying on the wildflower in his hand. He twirled it on its tiny stem, his mind wandering back to his wife, their son, and the babe they had lost.

There was no guarantee of surviving this kin war, but Daemon was determined to win it so that he and his family could finally live the peaceful life they had long desired.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

*Adryana: Adryana Targaryen is my original character for House of the Dragon. She is the youngest daughter and fifth child of King Viserys and Queen Alicent (The reader is the eldest daughter and child). She is wed to her twin brother, Aemond, and they have a set of twins together; a son named Vanar and a daughter named Vhaenys. She is known to have a short temper and often accused her eldest sister of abandoning her to live with Rhaenyra on Dragonstone. She also felt hurt when she sided with Rhaenyra's children during the Driftmark incident. Her temper overflowed when her eldest sister made a comment about how their father would be disappointed in the twins and their actions after reuniting in Storm's End, ultimately resulting in Adryana attempting to kill her and the unborn babe. The eldest sister lived, but the unborn babe did not, leading to her and Daemon planning revenge on Lucerys and their child.

*Issa byka rūklon: High Valyrian for my little flower.

*aōha vēzos: High Valyrian for your sun.

[storiesforallfandoms]

looks of a princess ~ eleventh doctor;doctor who

word count: 3736

request?: no

description: after travelling to medieval times, a flirtatious king takes interest in the doctor’s companion, and the doctor is a little jealous

pairing: eleventh doctor x female!reader

warnings: swearing, jealousy, use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

“I hate when you don’t tell me where we’re going,” (Y/N) muttered as the TARDIS lurched again. “I always feel like I need to prepare for whatever is going to happen.”

“You don’t need to prepare for anything this time,” the Doctor insisted. “Just let me surprise you, we’ll have fun!”

“Remember last time you said you would surprise me with fun? We ended up surrounded by Daleks and narrowly escaping their attacks.”

The Doctor moved away from the controls and cupped (Y/N)’s face. “This one will be a fun surprise. I promise.”

He kissed the top of her head, then went back to the controls. (Y/N) wanted to argue further, but she knew there was no use. The Doctor had a very different definition of “fun” than most, and it was nearly impossible to convince him when he was wrong. And she had to admit, the Doctor never went looking for trouble. Trouble just found him. Besides all that, it was also just impossible to argue with the Doctor when he was showing her affection, which they were both well aware of.

She braced as the TARDIS began making a noise that indicated they would be landing soon. As usual, the TARDIS landed with a rough thud and would’ve thrown the two of them to the ground if they hadn’t been prepared. The Doctor was smiling his big, goofy smile as he rushed to the door and threw it open with a flourish. (Y/N) looked around him at where they were supposed to be. “A forest?”

The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and looked around. “I could’ve swore I had our coordinates to land at the castle.”

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks and looked at him. “Castle?! You were planning to crash land in front of a castle?!”

“Well, I wasn’t planning to crash land. But, the surprise is ruined now, so yes. I brought up back to medieval times so you could see a real castle, and real knights. Maybe even a king or a queen.”

She walked over and wrapped her arms around his neck. “That’s so sweet, if not a little scary because I’m sure we would’ve been thrown into a dungeon if we crashed that close to the castle.”

The Doctor chuckled and put his arms around her waist. he was pulling her in for a kiss when they both heard something. They paused to listen. It sounded like heavy thumping against the ground, slowly getting louder and closer. They were pulling away from each other just as a group of men in metal suits of amour, some riding horses, broke through the trees and into the clearing where (Y/N) and the Doctor landed.

Knights.

Knights with pointy weapons aimed at them.

The Doctor pulled (Y/N) close to him, protectively. “Gentlemen, we mean no harm.”

“Who are you?” the lead knight demanded.

“I am the Doctor. This is my...associate, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. Years of dating (exactly how many years was still a bit wonky because of timey wimey stuff), and the Doctor was still weird about calling her his girlfriend.

“We’ve come to visit your beautiful land,” the Doctor explained.

“We heard sounds like an explosion,” the knight said, eying the two of them suspiciously.

“That was just...our...carriage?”

The knights shared a look before the lead said, “You’re coming with us to the king.”

Two knights tried to approach to take them, but they assured the knights they’d come willingly. (Y/N) bit her tongue to keep in an “I told you so”. She knew this wasn’t what the Doctor had planned, but it really did just prove her point that there was never an uneventful tried with him.

The two of them were marched to a castle that wasn’t too far from where they had landed. (Y/N) marveled at it as they got closer. It looked exactly like the castles from fairy tales and medieval shows and movies. It was huge with a moat around it. The drawbridge lowered as they got closer, someone obviously watching for their arrival. The group led the two inside, but only three knights ended up bringing them to the king.

He was a younger looking man, surprisingly. (Y/N) was assuming he was going to be an old man, but he was close to her age, and quite handsome. He looked down at them as they approached. When they stopped, he was still watching them, expectantly. It took the Doctor a moment to realize what he was waiting for. “Oh! Bow!”

They moved simultaneously to bow.

“Who are you?” asked the king.

“I am the Doctor, this is (Y/N).”

He raised an eyebrow. “You are a doctor?”

“Well, no. It’s like a...um...a stage name!” The king still looked suspicious. The Doctor turned to (Y/N) as if looking for backup, but she looked just as confused. “We are traveling...magicians. That’s why we have such funny looking clothes, and the loud noise you heard before. We were, um, practicing a trick! Went a bit wrong. We sincerely apologize.”

The king’s gaze turned to (Y/N). His expression seemed to soften greatly when he did, which definitely did not go unnoticed by the Doctor.

“Is this true, my lady?” he asked. “Are you two magicians?”

She nodded quickly.

“We were traveling to see your lovely castle,” the Doctor explained.

The flattery seemed to work, on top of the presence of a beautiful lady, the Doctor was sure.

The king stood from his throne. “It seems there has been a misunderstanding, then. I would like to apologize and offer you both lodgings in the castle for the night.”

The Doctor looked over at (Y/N). Her eyes were shining with excitement at the offer. As much as he wanted to say no and leave, he couldn’t when she looked like that. He plastered on a smile and agreed. The answer delighted the king, who stepped down from his throne to shake their hands. He grasped (Y/N)’s hand very warmly. Even she seemed startled by the gesture.

“My name is King Harold Evergreen,” he said, to both of them but definitely mainly to (Y/N). “I am honored to have you both here.”

~~~~~~

(Y/N) was still marveling at everything hours later. They were shown to the room they would be staying in, which was huge as well. She only got glimpses of the halls and other rooms as they were guided to their room, but King Harold promised an actual tour later on. (Y/N) felt like she was living in a fairytale.

The Doctor, however, was not taken with everything. He had been at first, until they had met the king, and until the king started to show clear interest in (Y/N).

There hadn’t been many times when the Doctor felt such strong feelings of jealousy. Mainly because he never expected for any of his companions to be around for long. Something always happened that made him lose his companions eventually. He always told himself not to get too close or else he’d end up hurt again, and every time he was right. But (Y/N) had stuck around. He let himself get close; he let himself fall in love. And she was still here with him years later.

So, yeah, he didn’t love that a king was taking interest in the woman he loved.

(Y/N) looked over at him. While she was taking it all in, he was sat on the bed with an expression that could only be classified as a pout. She giggled and moved towards the bed. She climbed onto it - literally since the bed was so high up.

“Geez, you could fit, like, ten people in this,” she said. When the Doctor didn’t so much as crack a smile, she poked his side. “Awe, what’s wrong? I thought you wanted to see the castle.”

“I did,” he said. “But now we’ve seen it, and I think we should leave.”

“We can leave in the morning. When will we get the chance to stay in a castle again?”

“We could try again in a few years, when King Harold already has a wife.”

He muttered it, but (Y/N) heard it. An amused smile crossed on her face as she moved closer to him.

“Is someone jealous?” she asked.

The Doctor scoffed. “No, of course not.”

“No, totally. You’re just here literally pouting and being broody because that’s what you do. Of course.” She sat next to him and leaned in so her shoulder was touching his shoulder. “You don’t need to be jealous, you know. We won’t be here for long anyways, and I’m sure his interest in me is just because I am a woman he hasn’t met yet. I’m sure he’s already betrothed to marry someone.”

“Not all kingdoms did betrothals. There were plenty of instances in history where the king was allowed to court whatever woman he wanted and propose to her.”

“Then I’m sure that’s what he’s already done. From what little I know of history, kings his age are supposed to be popping out heirs by now. He probably has a fiancée, and the second we leave he’ll have forgotten about me completely.”

A knock came at the door. (Y/N) got up from the bed and went to open it. Stood there was one of the castle’s maidens with something large in her hands. She curtsied to them both, which caused them to share a look that was a mixture of confusion and amusement.

“Hello, lady (Y/N),” the young woman said. “King Harold has requested I bring this to you. He says he would like for you to wear it when you join him for dinner tonight.”

She passed the object she was holding to (Y/N). As (Y/N) took it, she realized it was a dress. A big, poofy, princess looking dress. If the fabric had been blue or yellow, it would have looked exactly like Cinderella or Belle’s dress. Before (Y/N) could ask anything, the maiden had left. (Y/N) nudged the door closed with her foot and turned back to the Doctor, who looked positively fuming.

“He’ll forget about you completely, hm?” he said.

There was no arguing this time. He had sent her a beautiful gown, and made sure she knew he expected to see her at dinner, but there was no mention of the Doctor joining them. Of course, he was going to anyways, but it was hard to ignore the fact that King Harold was making it very clear that while the Doctor was a guest of the castle, (Y/N) was his guest.

~~~~~~

(Y/N) almost refused to wear the dress, but the Doctor convinced her it would be best to put it on.

“You don’t want to offend him in his own castle,” he reminded her.

Upon seeing her in the dress, the Doctor was able to set aside his jealousy for a moment. She looked absolutely beautiful in it; like a princess. Even though she was trying to hide her delight for the sake of the Doctor’s feelings, he could see that she was ecstatic to be wearing something so beautiful.

He took her hands in his and pulled her close to him. “You look wonderful, my love.”

She beamed at him. “Thank you. Do you think we’d be able to sneak this out tomorrow morning?”

The Doctor chuckled and leaned down to kiss her. While he would rather not carry around the reminder of another man trying to woo her, if (Y/N) wanted to keep the dress, he would make sure they kept it.

Another knock came at the door. (Y/N) moved to answer it again, expecting it to be another maiden. She was surprised to see King Harold stood there instead.

“Your highness,” she said, quickly bowing before she could forget herself.

“No need for that,” King Harold told her. “You are here as my guest. No more need for formalities. I just came to see if you got the present I sent for you.” His eyes wandered over her in a way that made the Doctor’s hands curl into fists. “I see I have gotten my answer.”

“Yes, it’s very lovely. Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad it fit. We have so much clothes laying around the castle from former kings and queens, I was sure there would be something to fit you.”

(Y/N)’s eyes went wide. “This...this belonged to...to a queen?”

“My great grandmother, in fact. The first woman to rule the kingdom on her own. She was near the end of her reign before she met my grandfather, a widower with four children. She married him and took in my grandfather and his siblings.”

It was a lot to process. She was wearing the gown of a former queen. A queen who ruled the country on her own, at a time where that was likely unheard of. She knew the dress had to belong to someone in the castle, but she never even entertained the idea that it belonged to one of King Harold’s ancestors.

She wanted to turn and face the Doctor to share her disbelief with him, but King Harold offered her an arm before she could. “Shall I give you that tour I promised? Dinner will be ready soon, but there is plenty to see between here and the dining hall.”

(Y/N) wasn’t thinking when she accepted the king’s arm. But the Doctor certainly was. He glared at their connected arms as King Harold led (Y/N) from the room. Neither of them had invited the Doctor to come along, but he did anyways. He wasn’t about to leave the two of them alone when it was very clear that King Harold had intentions to make (Y/N) stay in the castle forever.

The king was right in saying there was plenty to see between their room and the dining hall alone. Every hallways was lined with portraits of King Harold’s ancestors. There were official portraits of the rulers themselves, then family portraits of them with their spouses and children. There were many of just the children as well, some looking very professional and some that were obviously painted while the children were at play. King Harold made sure to stop at the pictures of him with his parents.

“I am an only child,” he told (Y/N). “It was very rare. My father had seven siblings himself. And it did not happen due to a lack of trying. Many say that my parents were just not lucky enough to be blessed with a big family.”

There were a number of more health related explanations on the tip of (Y/N)’s tongue, but she knew that was all modern stuff that the king would never understand now.

They finally made it to the dining hall. Just like everything else in the castle, it was a giant room. Probably just as big as the throne room they had been brought into when they first arrived. The table was big enough to seat at least a dozen people, and there was a large stone fireplace set up behind one of the heads of the table - King Harold’s seat, if (Y/N) had to guess. The table was set just for the three of them, with (Y/N) and the Doctor seated across from each other, King Harold in the middle at the head.

I suppose that’s better than being seated on the other end, the Doctor thought to himself.

They took their seats as food was brought into the room. (Y/N) had some struggles to sit, but finally figured out how to arrange the poof of her dress so she could sit comfortably without it being up in her face.

“Are we the only ones dining?” she asked.

“We are the only ones here, besides my staff,” the king responded.

“Your parents aren’t here? Or...or a wife?”

King Harold let out a booming laugh. “No, my parents no longer live here since my father stepped down from being king. That is another rarity, but I would much prefer them to step back and enjoy their older years as opposed to running themselves to death like other rulers usually do. And there is no queen currently. I had yet to pick someone to be my betrothed.”

(Y/N) glanced up at the Doctor. They both noticed King Harold’s choice of word: had.

The meal went on in silence. Or rather, in silence from (Y/N) and the Doctor. King Harold spoke plenty about himself and the history of the land. (Y/N) listened politely, while the Doctor continued to stab at his food.

“Tell me, how does one get into the business of magic?” Harold asked after a while. “It cannot be a profitable line of work for the two of you.”

“Oh...um...” (Y/N) started, trying to come up with a convincible story. “I believe it was the Doctor first who found out he was able to do small tricks. He...well, he met me and I was intrigued enough to follow him in his...journeys.”

The Doctor looked up at (Y/N) and they shared a small smile.

“Yes, but is it truly a fulfilling life?” King Harold asked again.

“I believe so. I have traveled to so many wonderful places that I never would’ve gotten to experience had I not met the Doctor,” (Y/N) said. Quickly she added, “And doing magic, of course. That’s...that’s always...fulfilling.”

“But do you believe you could be happy doing something else? Something more than being the assistant to a traveling magician?”

(Y/N) didn’t like where this was going.

When she didn’t speak, King Harold continued. “See, I have been looking for many years for someone to rule this kingdom by my side. I have met countless princesses and duchesses from other kingdoms, I have met common women from the town, but no one has caught my eye just yet. I am getting to an age where my time to find a wife and to have children of my own is starting to run short, but I am not one to marry just because it is expected of me. I want to marry for love, the way my great grandmother did.”

When King Harold reached for her hand, (Y/N) was too stunned to stop him.

“I believe you would make a perfect queen for this land, my lady,” he said. He started to raise (Y/N)’s hand to his lips when the Doctor suddenly stood, knocking his chair over and the crash putting an end to the moment.

“We’re leaving,” the Doctor said to (Y/N).

“I beg your pardon?” King Harold said.

“I will not stay in this castle for another second and watch you try to proposition my girlfriend.”

“Your what?”

“My love! She is my princess, or queen, or whatever you want to call her.” The Doctor moved around the table to take (Y/N)’s hand and pull her from her seat. “We’re going.”

(Y/N) was nervous that the king would send his guards after them, or at least he would send them after the Doctor and take him away so that King Harold could make her his queen without distraction. To her surprise, he called for someone to show them out. When she looked back at him as they rushed out the door, he seemed genuinely upset for them to go.

The Doctor led (Y/N) through the woods, which had gotten much darker during their time in the castle, and found the TARDIS with ease. He rushed both of them into it and slammed the door behind him. He was muttering to himself, cursing the king and calling him all sorts of names that would’ve gotten his head chopped off if he had said it while they were still in the castle.

After the shock had finally wore off, (Y/N) found control of her body again. She approached the Doctor and put a hand on his shoulder. He instantly fell silent and looked at her.

“I would never say yes,” she said.

“What?”

“To his proposition. I hope you know I would never have said yes to him.”

The Doctor was silent. He looked away from her to face the controls. She realized then that it wasn’t just jealousy that he was feeling.

“Were you worried I would’ve said yes and married him?” she asked.

He didn’t speak at first, but finally he said, “He gave you beautiful clothing, he gave you his undying attention, and he would’ve given you a title that anyone could ever dream of. He could’ve made you a fairytale princess.”

“But he is not you,” (Y/N) said. “Why would I want to spend my life with a man I only just met just because of what physical things he could give me? That is not love. Love is following a man in a bowtie into a police box and letting him take you anywhere in time and space for many years. Love is the willingness to do that again and again and again, because you can’t imagine a life without him anymore.”

There were tears welling up in the Doctor’s eyes. He quickly pulled (Y/N) into an embrace, causing her to laugh as she rested against him.

“I love you,” she said, her voice partially muffled by his tweed jacket.

“I love you, too,” he said.

“And, for the record, maybe you should start calling me your girlfriend when we meet new people. That way they won’t get the wrong idea going forward.”

The Doctor chuckled and pulled away to nod. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

She pulled him in for a kiss.

As they were finally coming down from the high that the trip had brought them, she realized that she was still wearing the dress from King Harold.

“I told you I would figure out a way for you to keep it,” the Doctor said, with a cheeky grin on his face.

“Yeah, all it took was you risking life in a medieval prison,” she teased.

“The things we do for love.”

[oopsiedaisydeer]

i love the smiths

fluff, kissing, tiktok trend, established relationship, soft!matt but he won't admit it, goofy, idiots in love

requested by @applecidersturniolo !

word count - 700ish

You’re sitting cross-legged on Matt’s bed, holding your phone up for him to see. He’s half-sprawled out next to you, scrolling through his own phone like he’s not that interested, but you can tell he is.

“Do you wanna do this trend with me?” you ask, nudging his arm.

Matt glances over, barely lifting his head. “What trend?”

You flip your phone around, pressing play on the 500 Days of Summer audio. He watches, brows furrowing slightly as it plays. Then, the couple on the screen lunge at each other, kissing so hard they fall out of frame.

Matt’s eyes flick back to you, unreadable for a second. Then, he snorts. “Wait. So we just say the lines and then, like… violently make out?”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “It’s romantic, Matt.”

“Uh-huh.” He’s fighting back a grin now, still acting like he’s above it. “And we have to disappear out of frame?”

“Yes.”

Matt exhales through his nose, staring at you like he’s already regretting agreeing to this. But then he sets his phone down, stretches his arms over his head, and mutters, “Alright. Let’s make some cinema.”

Take one.

The camera is propped up, slightly off-center, the lighting warm and dim. You try to keep a straight face, turning toward him.

“I love The Smiths.”

Matt stares at you blankly.

“Matt,” you whisper, nudging his leg.

He blinks. “Oh, wait. Sorry?”

You dissolve into laughter, covering your mouth. “You’re supposed to say it, not actually be confused.”

Matt groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, okay. Again.”

Take two.

“I love The Smiths.”

“Sorry?”

“I said—”

Before you can even finish, Matt lunges at you. No warning, no hesitation, just full-on crashes into you, completely messing up the timing. You yelp, hands flying up to steady yourself as you both fall out of frame way too soon, almost falling off the bed as you knock the phone also.

The camera catches nothing but the ceiling and a blur of movement.

Silence.

Matt groans, “That was terrible.”

You’re already wheezing, clutching your stomach. “Matt, we looked insane.”

He smiles at you, kissing you anyway before flopping onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “Maybe we are.”

Take three.

This time, you’re focused. You inhale, make sure Matt is actually ready.

“I love The Smiths.”

“Sorry?”

“I said—I love The Smiths.”

And then, perfectly on cue, you both lean in, slow at first—teasing, just the briefest brush of lips, the softest press before you feel the heat of Matt’s breath.

And then, without warning, Matt pulls you in harder, a bit desperate, the kiss deepening immediately. His hands find their way to your hair, tugging you closer as his lips move against yours with a softness that surprises you.

You gasp against his mouth, hands gripping the front of his shirt, and for a second, it feels like it’s just the two of you in this quiet room. The kiss is hungry now, full of little moments that have led up to this, a little bit of teasing, a little bit of need, the world fading away as the kiss intensifies, pulling you off the edge of the bed in the process.

As you both fall, tangled in each other, you end up just out of frame, your bodies twisting as you kiss with the kind of urgency that makes everything feel perfect.

The last shot is just the empty bed, a lamp flickering softly in the background. You shuffle in Matt’s grasp, trying to get closer as he continues kissing you, pulling you even further into him.

When he finally pulls away, breathless, his forehead rests against yours for just a moment before he pulls back slightly, a small smile curling at his lips.

"Was that too much?"

And obviously, when you post it, the comments explode.

“They practiced this. I know they practiced this.” “This is EXACTLY how the trend is supposed to be done.” “Matt looking at her. Stop im so single” “The way he’s definitely watching this back 50 times.”

And Matt? He acts chill, like he doesn’t care that much, but later, when you glance at his phone, you catch a glimpse of the video playing again.

Just once. Maybe twice.

credits to rose for the dividers !! @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: some more fluff even though i am anti-fluff this kinda made me smile jsdkhfksjh

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart @cowboylikenat @sturnsrecordfaves @camzeecorner @sturniolo101 @courta13 @sweetshuga

[chatterbox-73]

Kinktober 2024.

Day 16 - Size Difference.

Erwin Smith x fem!Reader

This story is a smut story for Kinktober, I’ll be writing more characters x reader one shots for Kinktober and if you want to see a character please let me know...

You must be 18 years or older to read this...

🔞⚠️NO MINORS ALLOWED⚠️🔞

A/n: H/L/N = husband’s last name.

This is also a repost.

Summary: you rush into marriage and now your stuck with a lousy husband, however once you get recruited as an on-site nurse for the survey corps you get to know commander Smith very well

Word count: 3.3k

CW: NSFW and adult content, size difference, cheating, fingering, y/n has a lousy husband, slightly catching feelings, mention of blood, rough sex, unprotected sex, pull out, implied squirting, belly bulge and slightly commander kink.

You were never one of those little girls that wanted to get married and have kids, but here you were. You settled and got married young, you didn’t love your husband, you weren’t satisfied with your husband, the man wasn’t even your type. However thanks to some frightening life lessons from your old sister, you rushed into marriage and now stuck with probably the most boorish, narrow-minded and egocentric man in the walls.

“We have guests coming over tonight, so prepare extra” your husband demanded as he walked up behind you and rubbed a hand over your butt, before giving it a light squeeze, “alright, who’s coming? So I can prepare something they’ll like” you asked, trying to play the happy little wife and stopping yourself from recoiling from his touch, “honestly it doesn’t matter it’s just a couple of soldiers… so make anything, just a lot of it” he spoke flatly before he walked to his study.

You had finished making the meal and had now began to set the table, while you waited for the guests to arrive. As you set out the final plate of food you heard a knock on the door, “y/n, hurry up and get the door” you husband yelled from his office, you rolled your eyes and answer the door. You were then met with the three commanding officers of the military regiments.

Nile Dok, commander of the Military Police.

Dot Pixis, commander of the Garrison.

And finally, Erwin Smith, commander of the Scout Regiment.

It took you a second to come to grips with what you were seeing, at first you thought your idiot husband, must have gotten into some kind of trouble with the Military Regiments, however if he had, soliders wouldn’t be so civil as to knock on the door, they’d just kick it in and rush the building.

After snapping out of your minor panic, you gestured for the men to come in, “come in… you’re right on time, I just finished setting the table… be sure wipe your boots on the door matt” you stepped aside and let all the men pass through, “straight down, second door on the left” you instructed as you closed the front door.

All the men made their way into the dining room and you told them to make themselves comfortable while you went and retrieved your husband.

When you return to dining room with your husband in toe, you found the three men looking at the small hand carved statues and the landscape paintings, that you had created in all your spare time at home once you got married.

After marrying your current husband, he demanded you to quit your job as a nurse and become the home body, and so to pass the time you began wood carving and paint.

“Sorry if you find those unsightly, my wife picked up the hobby as a way to pass time” your husband quipped, before side eyeing and silently asking you ‘why you didn’t put them away’, however you just ignored him and walked over the the eldest man of the three, who was holding a small white horse that had a black spot over its eye, that you had caved a few weeks ago, “do you like it?” You asked with a smile, the man nodded “yes, my grandson loves horses but we’ve had some difficulty finding toys he likes” Pixis went to place the horse down, “you can keep it if you’d like, I’m not save these figures from anything special” you said, before quickly taking out a handkerchief out of your apron pocket and wrapped the small figure in it, then passed it back to the man.

“Well we should start eating before the food goes cold” you smile and walk over to the table.

You sat and listen to the men conversant as you all ate, however the topic of why the sudden visit hadn’t been brought up yet and you felt yourself becoming impatient.

“If I may impose, but what was the reason for this sudden visit” you look between the three soldiers, “oh right, of course… you see we’re here to request your’s and your husband’s services in the Military’s medical unit” spoke Nile.

Both you and your husband looked shocked, but for two very different reasons “I’m sorry, I was under the impression my wife would have no part in this, she’s not even in service anymore” your husband said sternly, and you glared at him.

“Well that’s correct, however we looked through her medical reports and were also made aware of the short amount of time she spent in the training crops before she moved on to be a nurse” Pixis stated, and your husband snapped his head towards you.

You could see the displeasure in his eyes, “you were apart of the training crops?” He raised a questioning brow and you nodded, “for how long?” He asked condescendingly, like he believed you were dropped from the training crops, “about two years” you answered and then looked to the three man, “so where do you need us?” You smiled.

Pixis shifted uncomfortably before answering, “we’ll place you, Dr. H/L/N in Orvud District of wall sheena, and you, Mrs. H/L/N will be placed mostly in Trost District of wall Rose” he looked from you to your husband, “why won’t me and my wife be working together” your husband stated. “Unfortunately there’s only limited spots in the Orvud District’s medical unit and your wife’s skills are more suited to be with the survey corps, however if you’d like to join her in Trost District, your welcome to” Nile spoke and your husband looked to you, almost begging you to reject the offer so he could work in the inner walls without looking like a horrible husband for leaving you to work in a lesser and more dangerous area, “why don’t you take the job in Orvud District?” You asked with a smile.

Your husband smiled back at you, “because dear, I can’t leave you with the survey corps that’s dangerous” he held your hand, “I’m sure I’ll be fine, besides it’d be good to get some extra money to put in our savings, it’d help when we decide to have a baby” you smiled and place your other hand over top of his.

The way you spoke made it seem like everything was your idea and you were the one who wanted your husband to work in wall Sheena, however you really couldn’t care less where he was or wasn’t, but it was always easier on you to make him look like the good guy.

You weren’t sure if the other men could tell what you were doing, nor did you care, but your husband definitely appreciated it.

The rest of the night went fairly smooth, both you and your husband signed agreement forms and got information sheets about the days you’d be picked up and your tasks in the regiments you were assigned to.

Then came the day, you had a bag packed and you were picked up earlier in the morning by carriage, you said your goodbyes and got in.

Once getting into the carriage, you sat down across from Erwin and watched as he knock on the roof to signal the drive you were ready to leave.

The ride was relatively quiet until Erwin finally spoke, “we didn’t get to talk much at the dinner but the meal was lovely” he said and you smiled, “thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it” you blushed, Erwin was a very handsome man and there was no denying that, he was your ideal type of guy, and everything your husband was not.

“So why did you drop out of the training corps? You were doing excellently, judging by the class reports we went through” Erwin held a curious expression in his eyes and you shook your head “I feel like I’d save more lives in medicine rather then in the survey corps ‘fighting for freedom’… no offence” you watched as Erwin chuckled at your words, his laugh was so hot… what were you thinking, your a married woman, you may not be happy but your marriage nonetheless.

“So what will I be doing when we get there” you asked, “well first, you’ll be given a uniform, I’ll take you to the training ground to see where you need improvement and then we’ll both write up a timetable, that will have your training times and your clinic times so you can take clients then” Erwin explained “so unfortunately for you, we’ll be spending a lot of time together” he smiled, and you chuckled, “I guess I’m lucky you’re so easy on the eye, commander Smith” you flirt and then mentally scold yourself.

You were all sweaty, hot and out of breath as you stood on a large tree branch, “are you alright?” Erwin asked as he stepped onto the same branch effortlessly “yeah, I guess I’m just a really out of shape” you chuckled and lean on the trunk of the tree, “you look like your in great shape” the man smiled and gave your body a once over, before you thanked him.

You both took off your ODM gear before moving on to hand to hand combat, you could tell Erwin was pulling his punch’s and that was until you got him right in the nose and he stumbled back a bit.

You when in for another hit, however Erwin grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, then pushing you to the ground and pinned your hands behind your back, you look up at him and noticed he was bleeding.

“Oh my god, your bleeding” you struggle out of his grip and get up to look at his nose, “we should go inside its too dark out here to tell if it’s broken or not” you said in a panic and Erwin chuckled, “it doesn’t feel broken” you frowned at him, “yes but it could be” you pull him to his feet and drag him to the office you were assigned earlier that day.

You sat the large man on the chair and dabbed at his face, after cleaning any blood off his face you felt his nose to check if it was broken, luckily it wasn’t and so you gave him some tissues paper and told him to hold his nose until the blooding stop.

“Well I guess now is probably the best time to start working on your timetable” Erwin said as he wiped off any remaining blood from his face, “I guess your right” you said as you got some paper, ink and dip pens from a draw in your desk.

It didn’t take too long for you and Erwin to complete the timetable, Erwin also wrote a information sheet stating what services you offer and if the soldiers had any questions then to come and asked you, at the appropriate times of course.

You copied the sheet a few times and posted them in popular areas in the survey corps headquarters, like inside the barracks and in the dining hall.

It had been a week since you started working and you had requested for everyone to do a mandatory physical exam, you had started off with the young soldiers, then moved to the older soldiers and then finally to the captains and commanders of the regiment. There was a harsh knock on your door, “just a moment I have to finish up with someone” you called as you jotted Moblit’s height, weight and any physical markers you spotted while doing his exam.

“Are you ready to leave?” You asked Moblit as he slipped on his boot and he nodded, you opened the door to reveal a small grumpy man, “oh captain Levi, I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow” you smiled and ushered him in and let Mobile out, you shut the door.

“Yeah Erwin said that he was busy and asked if I could deliver the message” Levi’s frown deepened, “well while you’re here I can do your exam, if you’re comfortable?” You asked and the man nodded.

You went on with Levi’s exam, and the man was in top physical condition, took down everything you requested and asked him to dress, “while you dress I’m going to shout out some questions, please answer honestly” you said and began with your questions.

The sun began to set and by now Levi’s exam was over, you walked him out of you office and found Erwin standing across the hallway waiting for you to finish, Levi ‘tsk’ when he saw Erwin and then disappeared down the hallway.

“Oh my, I didn’t expect you here, I thought you were busy” you smiled and over the short amount of time you worked here, you’ve begun to feel for Erwin, his just so kind and handsome.

“Yeah, I finished all my work and figured if you ain’t too tired you’d be able to do my physical exam, or at least reschedule it” Erwin smiled sheepishly, “sure come in” you stepped aside and let the large blonde in, “I’ll do your examination today, please disrobe and place this towel around you” you lead him to an area with a curtain and you handed him a towel, “once your done disrobing, sit on that bed” you said and starting gathering some paper and placing it on a clipboard.

You almost dropped the clipboard as you watched Erwin sit on the bed, pulling yourself together you begin the exam with checking his ears, eyes, nose, mouth and head. “That looks all good now I need to take some measurements” you say and gestures for him to stand up, you take out your measuring tape and kick a little stepping stool over to him, for you to stand on while measuring him.

You start with Erwin’s arms, you had to fight the urge to squeeze his large muscles, but you finally managed to take length and then circumference and by god you nearly cream yourself at the width of his biceps, you then moved on to his chest measurements, your first instinct was to run your nails down his extremely broad chest and lick up his chiselled stomach, you tried with all your might to not give into your temptations, however you won’t so lucky, subconsciously you leaned in huffed in his delicious musk, while letting your finger trail down his front, tracing his abs and deep v cut, and once you realised what you did, you stepped off the stool and moved back from the man.

“I’m so sorry commander Smith, I don’t know what came over me” you said with a red face, you were obviously lying, you wanted Erwin more then anything but you were a married woman and although you didn’t love or care for your husband, you were above cheating… you think… “it’s fine, I understand, you miss your husband… it gets quite lonely here, doesn’t it?” Erwin asked take a few steps forward causing you to take a few steps back, until you bumped into the desk.

“Look at me and honestly tell me you don’t want this, if so I’ll get dressed and leave, but if you can’t…” Erwin stood over you, he grabbed your face and made you look at him, “and if I can’t?” You question and Erwin chuckled, “I’ll fuck you silly” you swallowed.

“If I’m being honest I want you, but about my husband?” You asked as you maintained eye contact, “and what about him, what he doesn’t know won’t kill him” Erwin picked you up effortlessly and walked you over to the bed, before lying you down.

You laid on your back naked moaning, shadowed by Erwin’s figure, as he pumped two thick finger in and out of you, while rubbing your clit with his thumb and quickly worked you over the edge.

Erwin pulled his fingers out of you “you should be ready for me” he pulled you towards him, so your ass was just on the edge of the bed and place his length on your mons pubis, before pushing his hips to meet yours and this aloud him to measure his length against you.

Erwin lifted his member off you and poked just under your bellybutton “this is where you’re gonna feel me baby” Erwin smirked as you blushed and told him to stop being like that. Erwin pulled back and began to rub the tip of his lofty manhood against your folds.

You moan at the way he teased you, “just put it in, I’m desperate commander” you whines and you then felt two of Erwin’s finger spread you lower lips apart before pushing his throbbing tip in you.

You gasped at the painful discomfort that came with the unnatural stretch, even your first time wasn’t this painful.

“It hurts… it- it hur- hurts” you cried as you grabbed the bed in a death like grip, Erwin gave you all the time you needed to adjust to him and once your cries of pain turned into whines of pleasure he then slowly pushed more of himself in, you cried out loudly and arched your back as his cock came to the hilt, you heard him groan as he placed a hand on your lower stomach, “shit you need to see this” Erwin said through grit teeth.

You looked down at his hand and watched as he lifted it, there you saw a bulge in your belly and you brought your hands down to it, then began to rub it.

“Mmmm so full” you moaned looking up at Erwin and suddenly the man started thrusting in and out of you, keeping your hand on your lower stomach you felt Erwin’s girthy erection drag against you tight walls, “it feels so good Erwin” you breathed out between moans. Erwin grabbed your hips and pulled you into his rough thrust, you reached out to grab his arms as you gasped out in an attempt to stop him and when you finally got a hold of his arms it just gave Erwin more leverage in his brutal pace.

When you dug your nails into Erwin’s biceps, he left you off the bed and tangled a hand into your hair, before pulling back on it causing your back to bend.

In this new position Erwin pace never slowed it just got harder and deeper, you put your face in the crook of his neck to muffle you pleads and cries.

Erwin felt you tightening around him and grunted, “you gonna cum for your commander? Huh baby?” He placed you back on the bed and roughly gripped your hips, while leaving his pace unchanging.

You nodded as the knot in your stomach tightened and your the pressure in you throbbing cunt became unbearable, just as you began to cum on Erwin’s thick cock, he quickly pulled out of you and you suddenly feel all that pressure in the cunt release in a gush, “fucking hell, baby” you heard Erwin moan and you felt warm liquid spurt onto you.

You laid on the bed with your eyes closed and panting for a while, until Erwin’s hands wiped you down with the towel.

“I know this wasn’t your first time, but there’s some blood here, is that normal?” Erwin asked as he started dressing you, you nodded “yeah, you were just too rough with me” you whine at the pain.

You were then scoop up in Erwin arms and he carried you across the room to the door on the other side of the room, which leads to your private quarters.

Erwin lays you down in bed and sat on the bed until you feel asleep.

When you woke the next morning you noticed a note on the pillow next to you, as you reached to get it you could feel a sharp ache all over your body, but most notably in your hips and lower back.

You read the note and it stated that Erwin requested the clinic be closed today because you were having a day off, after you finished reading, you dropped the note and went back to sleep, to hopefully rest off the pain.

Kinktober Masterlist

Day 15 - Jiraiya: Seeing red.

Day 17 - Asahi Azumane: A/B/O.

[frownyalfred]

TRINITY STRIP CLUB?

I had some bits and pieces written for an outsider!POV fic of the Trinity going undercover of a strip club, but I think I scrapped it since I ended up going with a similar storyline for dead man's party.

(snippets below, unedited)

---

“Oh fuck. VIP in the big suite.” 

Amy set down her gatorade, swallowing quickly. “This late?”

Matt tilted the POS screen her way, showing her the time block. “They just grabbed the last two blocks for the night.” 

“Shit,” Amy said, biting her lip, “That’s pricey.” 

“Ask if they want any bottles,” Matt said, immediately switching to business mode, “Actually, don’t ask. Just bring in the champagne.” 

Amy made grabby hands until he stepped out of her way, letting her look at the screen. She thumbed through the schedule, frowning at the room reservation -- John Smith -- and the underlined note: Do not disturb. 

“Taking first dibs?” she asked, glancing at his sweat-soaked shorts critically. Matt stuck his tongue out at her. 

“They don’t care this late,” he said, “It’s all coming off, anyway.” 

Amy scanned the screen one last time -- three guests -- and snagged her serving tray off the counter, going off in search of champagne glasses. 

Matt, wisely, split off for the dressing rooms, likely to freshen up. He was wiping down with baby wipes in full view of the door when Amy passed by a few minutes later, a chilled bottle of Dom Pérignon carefully perched in an ice bucket on her tray. 

“Give ‘em hell,” he said, grinning lewdly. 

Amy made an unimpressed noise, heading for the stairs. 

(line break)

“Hello, welcome to Club Charlie. My name is Amy, I’m going to be your--”

Three heads shot up, staring at her in surprise. Years of training prevented Amy from immediately stopping in her tracks. She balanced the bucket off of her tray and onto the table, focusing on keeping her heels under her. 

“We didn’t order champagne.”

Amy looked up from the bucket, already reaching for the glasses. 

“Compliments of the…” she faltered, “...house, sir.” 

The man in the middle of the couch -- sunglasses, dress shirt open to the third button, broad shoulders -- didn’t seem amused. Delicate lips pressed together, highlighting their curve. 

“We also asked not to be disturbed,” he said. Not upset -- not really, the truly wealthy ones never did -- but on the road to it. “Miss…?”

“Bruce,” the man to his left said, interrupting before Amy could respond, “let her be.” 

He was just as broad-shouldered, wide blue eyes keeping just above her collarbone. On the table in front of him was an iPad and several notepads, half filled in with penciled diagrams. 

“We can drink champagne,” the third person -- a woman, in a deep red, one-shoulder dress -- said, leaning forward, “I will do the honors.” 

Amy handed off the champagne bottle to the woman, mouth slightly open. 

There had to be a convention in town. A convention for highly attractive, black-haired, blue eyed models. It was like staring at a movie star in real life. 

The woman smiled at Amy in thanky, digging a perfectly manicured finger through the foil of the bottle. Before she could offer the bottle opener, the 

“Holy fuck,” she said, stumbling back into the dressing room, “you need to get in there now.” 

“Are they rich?” Matt asked, looking up from where he was tweezing a hair from his upper thigh, “Please tell me they’re good tippers. I got absolutely fucked by that last DJ set.” 

“They’re models,” Amy said, breathless, “literal, actual, fucking works of art. I’ve never seen three more attractive people in my life.” 

“Bullshit,” Matt said, returning to his hair. 

“Seriously. Grab Leslie. There’s three of them.” 

---

“Two birds, one stone,” Sunglasses said under his breath, “I need to be here.” 

“You said you were available,” the younger man protested, “I didn’t think that meant you were at the strip club.” 

“You said it was urgent,” Sunglasses said, raising an eyebrow at his companion, “and I am available.” 

The woman gave Matt and Leslie an encouraging smile as they mounted the stage. 

“I don’t…” next to Sunglasses, the younger man wiped a hand across his face, “Lois is going to kill me.” 

“Lois would already have her wallet out,” Sunglasses muttered, “and you know it.” 

“Gah.” 

“See something you like, gorgeous?” Matt called to the woman, slinging a hand around the center pole. 

The woman’s sculpted eyebrows lifted, lips forming a perfect, cherry-red pout over her champagne flute. “Will you show me something I’ll like, μωρό?”

“Oh God,” the younger man said, glancing back and forth between the two of them, “This was a mistake.” 

Sunglasses glanced up at the stage, looking marginally more pleased than his companion, “Might as well enjoy it, boy scout.” 

“Enjoy it?” 

“More champagne, sir?” Amy asked, darting in with the fresh bottle. The younger man stared up at her in shock. God, his eyes were really fucking blue. She could get lost in those eyes. 

“I--um,” the man shoved it out at her, “Sure. Please. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have --”

His reply was drowned out by the sound of Kim Petras blaring through the VIP suite speakers, marking the beginning of the set. 

[bellaxgiornata]

Been a minute since I've given an update, but for those curious, I'm currently working on:

The third chapter of Life Worth Living for my Matt Murdock lovers. It's almost finished now!

A one shot for William Miller (Triple Frontier) that could possibly turn into a short mini-series if there's interest (as in just a couple of parts). So far the one shot is about half-written.

I'm currently plotting a potentially short little series for Raymond Smith (The Gentleman) that's a bit enemies to lovers. I've already got plenty of dialogue ideas of him with someone that gets on his nerves and calls him absolutely ridiculous insults for being so uptight (not because of his OCD) while he struggles to keep his composure working with them.

I have it so bad for Raymond Smith right now it's not even funny.

[xx-dinah-writing-xx]

i love it when love interests in shows/movies end up dating irl. There’s something so sweet about it I can’t explain. Imagine a Matt x reader who started dating after starring together in Doctor Who and the fans just loving it.

Love your works btw!

Pose

Matt Smith x reader Fluff

————

The Doctor Who set buzzes with energy. Cast and crew dart about, prepping for the next scene. You stand off to the side, in costume, just one of many extras for a background shot. Your heart pounds as your gaze finds Matt Smith across the set, cracking jokes with Karen Gillan.

You’re young, new to the industry, still trying to figure out where you fit. Watching him work is like watching gravity in motion—he’s charismatic, magnetic, totally at ease. You admire it quietly, from a distance. That’s all it can be. He’s lightyears ahead of you, in fame, in experience… and you’re just one face in the crowd. He probably doesn’t even know you exist.

You spend the day filming your brief scenes, staying out of the way, sneaking glances when you can. He’s kind to everyone. Warm. That laugh of his echoes down corridors. And the way his eyes sparkle with mischief? Dangerous.

By the time the day wraps, you haven’t worked up the nerve to speak to him. Not once.

“Maybe someday,” you whisper to yourself as you walk off set, clutching your tiny moment of experience like it’s something sacred.

Years Later – House of the Dragon Set

The halls here are nothing like that old sci-fi soundstage. Everything feels heavier, richer. You’ve grown—your name holds some weight now. You’re no lead, but you’re not invisible anymore.

And then there’s Matt.

You see him at the first table read. Older. Sharper around the edges, but still impossibly magnetic. That same charm, that same light. Except this time… he sees you too.

It starts subtly. Shared jokes on set. Conversations over lunch. His eyes find you in every room, and you start catching him looking—curious, amused, drawn in.

“Have we worked together before?” he asks one day between scenes.

You smirk. “Maybe. A long time ago.”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “You’re not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

He’s hooked. It’s not just your face, or your voice, or the way you hold yourself now—it’s something deeper. There’s something about you he can’t quite place, and he’s desperate to.

Weeks later, during a casual chat with a crew member, it clicks.

“You were on Doctor Who, weren’t you?”

You grin. “Good memory. Just an extra.”

“Noticed you?” He steps closer, voice dropping. “I’ve been noticing you every day since we started this.”

Your heart jumps. This can’t be real. But it is—Matt Smith, the man you watched from afar, is here. Right in front of you. Interested.

After that, everything shifts. He looks for you constantly. Finds excuses to talk, to linger, to touch. Running lines becomes an excuse. So does sharing tea. He’s smitten—completely, obviously.

Sometimes he teases you about the past. “You should’ve said something back then,” he says, smirking.

You roll your eyes. “I was a kid. You were the famous Doctor.”

He laughs and pulls you closer. “Better late than never, right?”

Present Day – London

It’s one of those rare days off. Late afternoon sun spills across the pavement as you and Matt walk hand-in-hand through the streets of London. He’s in a fitted black t-shirt and boots; you’re in a sundress and denim jacket. It should be simple, private—but nothing about your lives is private anymore.

As you step out of a cozy café, his hand resting on the small of your back, the unmistakable click click click of camera shutters cuts through the moment.

Three paparazzi. Across the street. Watching.

“Smile or run?” you whisper.

Matt chuckles. “Pose.”

He leans down and kisses your temple, lingering there. His other hand stays tucked in his pocket like it’s the most casual thing in the world. You tilt toward him, laugh warm and easy.

He glances at one of the photographers as you cross the street. “You got enough, mate?” he calls out, grinning.

They don’t respond, but the shutters don’t stop until you’re gone.

That Evening

The photos explode online within hours.

One frame—him kissing your temple, your eyes closed, smiling—goes viral.

The hashtag trends fast: #MattSmithAndYou.

Fan Tweets:

“OH MY GOD THIS IS A ROM-COM IN THE MAKING!!! LOOK AT THEM 😭❤️”

“He’s so boyfriend-coded it hurts.”

“Hands off, girl. I saw him first.”

“Matt Smith, crowned King of Gentle PDA.”

“Most attractive couple ever?? I’m not okay.”

Fan pages go wild. Collages. Slow-motion edits. Captions like:

“Matt and his girl being adorable AGAIN. He stays winning.”

“Not to be dramatic, but I’d die for their love.”

“What’s it like being someone’s moon and stars?? Asking for a friend.”

You’re sprawled on the couch that night, scrolling, phone buzzing nonstop.

“Matt,” you call out, trying not to laugh.

He walks in with tea, eyes narrowing. “What’s funny?”

You flash him a meme. He squints at the screen. “Is that… me?”

“Yep. Apparently you’re ‘boyfriend-coded’ now.”

He raises an eyebrow as he sets the mug down. “Boyfriend-coded?”

“Means you’re setting the bar too high for everyone else,” you say, smirking.

He chuckles and sinks onto the couch, pulling you into his lap. “Unrealistic, huh? Darling, I’m just getting started.”

You roll your eyes, grinning. “Well, congrats. The internet loves you.”

His arms tighten around your waist. “They’re not the ones I’m trying to impress.”

Later That Night

You’re curled up with a glass of wine, earbuds in, lost in a TikTok scroll hole. The edits are already out. Some are soft. Some… not so much.

One catches you completely off guard—a montage of Matt as Daemon Targaryen, Sabrina Carpenter’s “bed chem” playing in the background. Every smirk, glare, and arrogant strut in high definition.

You bite your lip, caught between amusement and something… else. The caption reads:

“She gets to go home to THIS every night? God has favorites.”

You don’t notice Matt come in. He sets two glasses of wine on the table and leans over the back of the couch, peering at your screen.

It takes two seconds before his voice startles you: “Really, darling?”

You nearly fling your phone. “Oh my god, Matt! Don’t sneak up on me!”

He crosses around the couch, arms folded, smug. “You were watching edits of me?”

“No!” you lie. Poorly. You shove your phone under a cushion.

He raises a brow. “That was Daemon. I saw the smolder.”

Groaning, you cover your face. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” he grins, tugging your hands away. “I’m flattered.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he says, settling beside you, “you’re still stuck with me.”

He grabs the remote. “Should we make it official and watch House of the Dragon together?”

“Absolutely not.” You hand him a glass of wine. “You’ve been admired enough for one night.”

[mystic-writings]

selfishly, i love you | eleventh doctor

PAIRING — eleventh doctor x fem!reader

SUMMARY — after two years of being burdened with love for the doctor, you make the choice to leave him behind. 

WARNINGS — angst

WORD COUNT — 1,818

NOTES — matt smith i will always love you

masterlist | navigation

You weren’t sure what hurt more — your utterly unrequited love for the Doctor, or the fact that you were leaving him behind. 

After years of waiting, of being his companion and seeing every corner of time and space with him, you were finally choosing to leave his impossibly addicting lifestyle behind. 

Oddly enough, it was such a trivial thing that brought you to the decision. 

Visiting the future was always a tricky thing; rarely did the Doctor get the timing correct. This was one of the few times that he had, on a trip that was just for you and him. No Rory, River, or Amy. Just the pair of you, exploring New New London in all of its intergalactic, interspecies glory. 

It was a treasure, seeing glimpses of a world that would only come to fruition after you’d be long gone. You think that’s why you loved travelling with the Doctor as much as you did. To know that despite everything, the world wouldn’t end when you eventually died. That no matter how bad the trivial things seemed in the smaller picture of your life, the world would keep on going. 

You’d been wandering a food market together when it happened, taking in the bustle of people as vendors displayed all sorts of things — clothes, food, anything your heart wanted. 

“Doctor, look!” You pointed excitedly at one of the market stalls. “They’ve got those candies! The three berry ones that I’ve been looking for!” 

The Doctor shared a smile with you as you dragged him by the sleeve of his tweed coat over to the market stall. 

Excitedly, you pointed at the bag of candies. “How much?”

“Four credits a bag, or two bags for seven credits,” the older man said, rather gruffly, despite the smile on his face. 

The Doctor transferred enough credits for you to take four bags of candies, and you thanked both him and the vendor profusely as you pocketed your bags. 

“You know,” the vendor grunted, “you two remind me of myself, when I was young. With my wife.”

Before you had a chance to open your mouth, the Doctor scoffed in disbelief. “Wh- us?” He nearly laughed. “We’re not- no, sir! We’re just friends, that’s all. Yes, friends.” 

You could feel your heart cracking in your chest, as it usually did. You were surprised there was anything left of it now, considering how many times the Doctor had unknowingly shot you down. 

“Thank you, sir. Have a nice day.” You muttered, voice cracking as the Doctor moved on promptly. Your chest ached at the pitiful nod the vendor gave you, delivering another blow to your battered heart. 

That was all it was. A comment from an unsuspecting street vendor, and the well-intended, panicked response from the Doctor. 

Upon returning to the TARDIS later that evening, you walked past the control panel and toward your room without a word. 

“Wha- Y/n!” The Doctor called out, likely in the middle of a one-sided conversation with you. “Where are you going?! We still have to decide where to go next!” 

“To my room, Doctor.” You shouted back, climbing the stairs. “I want to go home.” 

You paid the Doctor no mind as he made a noise of protest, but didn’t follow you as you headed into one of the hallways. The TARDIS materialised the door to your room, decorated with stickers and polaroids of yourself, the Doctor, and your other friends, from travels over the past two years. 

With a shaking sigh, you pulled the pictures down and walked into your room with them in hand, tossing them onto the bedside table. 

You dropped onto the side of the bed, shoulders rounded and sagging with the weight of your own mind. Replaying the moment with the vendor caused you nothing but pain, but your mind seemed to make the decision for you, displaying it on a cinema screen for you to pick apart and torture yourself with. 

It felt like hours of you doing only that; letting your mind wander, overthink the scenario and digging up long forgotten ones that all pointed to the same conclusion — you loved the Doctor, more than you could bear handling. And he didn’t love you at all. 

Of course, that wasn’t entirely true. He did love you, he’d said it himself. But he always followed up the word ‘love’ with ‘family’ or ‘friend’. He loved you the same way he loved Rory and Amy, as a member of his makeshift little family. 

Even though the Doctor had given you his love, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t the right kind of love. 

Selfishly, you wanted more. You wanted him, in a way many companions had before, and in a way none of them had ever achieved. At some point, even Amy had wanted him that way. How could she not? The Doctor was entirely irresistible. 

But you knew you could never have him. If today was any marker of how he felt, then your paths ahead were simple: either stay and live with the pain that slowly chipped away at your heart, or leave the Doctor and his radiance behind in the hopes that one day, you’d be able to move on and live a life that resembled everyone else’s.

Surprisingly, the Doctor had left you alone during your time of contemplation. Typically, if he was alone for too long, he’d grow restless and come knocking on your door (or, more commonly, walking into your room unannounced) to talk to you about anything that was occupying his mind. 

Once you’d decided, it didn’t take you long to pack up your room. 

The polaroids were tucked neatly into an old leather suitcase, one that was probably stolen from the 1950s. Your clothes and trinkets — all of which were souvenirs from past travels — fit neatly into the main compartment, and suddenly, within fifteen minutes, your entire life was packed neatly into a single leather case, ready to be carried away to God knows where.

Your heart ached at the thought. At the reality that, for your own good, this life would be no more. No more hot cocoa and tea with the Doctor, no more karaoke with Rory. No more exploring alien planets with Amy, disregarding the Doctor’s cautious instructions. No more admiring River’s bravery. 

No more adventure. Just the trials of an average life on an average planet as an average human. And while you lived for the days you spent with the Doctor, you weren’t sure you’d be able to go on living with him. 

With the love you carried for him. 

Taking a deep breath, you held the suitcase with one hand, and opened the door of your room with the other. 

It seemed, as you stepped into the corridor, that the TARDIS had put your room further back than it had materialised it in the first place. You were forced to walk the halls, footsteps echoing in your ears as you soaked in your surroundings for a final time. 

When you entered the control room, the Doctor was flipping switches frantically, talking to you without looking. 

“Finally! You’ve come out of your room!” He exclaimed. “Look, I was thinking I’d take you to that planet I was talking to you about, with the cats and talking cars and two-headed people. Sounds like it’d make for an interesting visit, no?”

“Doctor,” you called out from the top of the steps, quietly. 

“Or!” He shouted again, moving about the console. “I could take you to see the Roman Empire! You’ve talked a lot about that one before-” the Doctor looked up from the console to find you with your bag in hand. He pointed to it, eyes gleaming. “What’s that for?”

“I want to go home, Doctor.” You said, chest bubbling with emotion. “Please, just take me home.” 

“Why?” He asked, wringing his hands. 

You exhaled a sigh, dropping your head. There was no way for you to be able to explain it. “Because, Doctor. I’m tired.” 

“But there’s a bed in your room, you can sleep in there, can’t you?” The Doctor asked. 

Descending the steps, you shook your head. “It’s not that kind of tired. I can’t just sleep it off. It’s been wearing me down inside for a long time, and it won’t go away if I stay.” 

“What d’you mean?” Worry pooled in the Doctor’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Doctor.” You gave him a tight-lipped smile, one you knew he would see right through. But you didn’t have the energy to try convincing him any further. “I just need to go home.” 

The Doctor nodded, solemnly, before pressing a few buttons on the console beside you, eyes barely leaving yours. The TARDIS whirred, bringing you back to your home. 

Within minutes, you were there. In your small backyard, leading up to the back porch door of your small townhouse. Where you’d be alone. 

You opened the door, and stepped outside. The Doctor followed you, catching your wrist and turning you to face him. 

“Doctor, please,” you pleaded. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what, Y/n?” He asked. “I’m going to come back ‘round later, okay? Maybe when you’re feeling better we can go see that planet I was talking about.”

Tears swelled in your eyes, blurring your view of the Doctor. Misty rain coated your hair and clothes, because of course it had to be raining. You shook your head solemnly, a shaking breath wracking your body. 

“I’m not coming back, Doctor. I can’t.” You told him, voice cracking and wavering. “It’ll hurt too much.” 

“What are you talking about, Y/n?” The Doctor’s voice cracked with worry. “What’s going on?”

You gingerly put your suitcase down, stepping closer to the Doctor and cupping his jaw with your hands as the rain began to set in. “You are the most brilliant person I’ve ever known, Doctor. You’ve shown me so much, more than I ever thought I’d see in my lifetime. But I can’t continue being with you. Because I love you, more than life itself. Wholly and selfishly, I love you, Doctor. And I know you don’t love me, so I have to leave. If I don’t leave, It’ll destroy me.” 

“But I-I do, Y/n,” the Doctor shook his head. “I do love you.”

“As a friend, Doctor.” You reminded him. “And I’m sorry, truly, but it’s just not enough.” 

Your tears fell freely as you let go of the Doctor’s face, stepping back and picking your suitcase back up. Solemnly, you smiled and said, “See you later, Doctor. Don’t do anything stupid.” 

The Doctor only nodded, watching you disappear back into your home. 

If only he could bring himself to chase after you and find some sort of way to get you back. But even he knew it wouldn’t work. It had been your choice, after all. And who was he to ignore that?

permanent taglist: @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @heliads

eleventh doctor taglist: open!

taglist form link !

[frenchfriedgiraffe]

the year is 2023. dghda season 7 has just ended. after bringing back multiple dead characters (including but not limited to dead character number 1, 2, 3, 4, and patrick spring) the titular main character dirk gently is standing in the middle of the ocean, on a lifeboat, surrounded by sharks. he stares straight into the camera and says "looks like this requires... some sort of... holistic detection." he takes out a tracking device and presses a button, releasing several pterodactyls into the air. the lifeboat (which has now been revealed to be dirks trusty partner, mona) transforms into a speedboat and whisks them both into the air, following not only the course of destiny, but the convenient tracking device heading straight for (dirk turns to give a dramatic look at the camera) the agency.

they crash through several buildings and dirk cracks a funny one liner about tuesdays. mona is conveniently nowhere to be seen. dirk goes to the agency where todd is sitting and being a character. dirk smiles and todd leaps into the air, dirk has been saved! they jump into each other's arms, lips 3 centimeters apart... will they...?

a phone rings, making them both pause. dirk answers it. his face falls in shock. todd asks him what's wrong. dirk turns around grimly.

"somehow... gordon rimmer has returned"

the crowd of marketable small cats in the corner of the room gasp. todd gets shot by several arrows in a pararibulitis attack to keep viewer retention. dramatic music and alarms blare. suddenly there's a crashing sound. dirk whips around only to see the aforementioned sharks speeding towards them through the sky. dirk says "they fly now!?" todd nodds "they fly now."

several sharks eat dirks body and its all very sad. todd is crying. the writers suddenly remember farah is there and make her cry too, but in a cool way. suddenly, bright light erupts from dirks body. he's not dead!! something is happening! he stands up, the light fading to reveal... matt smiths face.

"this sure is some holistic agency" he says as the credits roll and every single person on earth claps as the show finale ends... teasing perhaps a reboot... bought by a major conglomerate perhaps...

[kytrisz]

Why not me? | Matt Smith

| pairing. matt smith x reader   requested by. @shuichiakainx

You're currently in the pub with Matt's castmate, celebrating the success of the House of the Dragon premiere. You are there as his plus one, and also because he said he needed you there. He needed the support of his best friend.

Friend…

That’s what you are, a friend, and always be a friend.

Sitting at the bar station, you stir the beer bottle you are holding while watching everyone around you, more like you're watching him. You study the way he talks animatedly, his expressions, and everything else. And seeing him beam like there was no tomorrow for what he had accomplished today induces a tiny smile on your face. 

As you continued to gaze longingly at him, you didn't notice a figure make its way beside you until it uttered something that caught you off guard.

"How long have you been in love with him?" 

Like a deer caught in the headlights, you whirled around to see who the person was. And it's none other than Emma, Matt's co-star in the show. You tried to school your face as neutral as possible.

"...what do you mean?" you carefully ask, squinting your eyes at her.

"I know that look dear, you don't have to deny it," Emma giggled, waving her hand to the bartender to ask for a drink, who obediently do it. Grabbing the glass, she leans on the counter with her elbows before returning her gaze to you.

"You love him?" Emma asked rhetorically as she drank the shot glass.

You looked at her for a moment before turning away, muttering, "I don't know what you're talking about..."

Emma let out a short laugh, appearing amused at you, then her eyes softened as she noticed you staring at him wistfully again. "A piece of advice, my dear," she beckoned you, drawing your attention and fixing your gaze on her.

"Sometimes...knowing the answer, even if it hurts, is better than regret," Emma murmured, giving you a small smile, before turning and striding her way to other casts, leaving you with your thought to think about what she said.

You let out a weak smile before returning your attention to him. You know it's true, regarding what she said. You tried to confess so many times to him to the point you can't even recall how many now. But every time you tried to tell him, fear always held you back. You don't fear him not loving you back, you fear that everything will change. You know the moment you confess to him your relationship will never be the same again.

You will never be this close again... 

You know he doesn't love you like that. And his past relationships are proof of that. Where you always watch his back while he's looking at her as if she's the most precious thing he ever got.

Thinking about it, you raise your bottle again to drink, forcing all the pain away with the bitter taste of the beer. While sipping, you noticed Matt staring at you. Locking your eyes at his chocolate ones, he gives you his famous charming smile that makes you swoon always. Then he raises his hand, signaling for you to come.

You smile at him as you place the empty beer on the countertop, then take out your wallet to get some cash and leave it there.

Even though you're practically intoxicated and already swaying and dizzy, you try your hardest to get to him without colliding with anyone else. After all, you do want to make a scene.

And when you're already feet away from him. There you saw him, smiling at another girl whose arms wrapped into his shoulder. Stopping you from your feet. 

You keep staring at them as your heart begins to slowly break open on the inside. But what truly crush it is when you saw Matt look at her the way he always at look at his partners before,

with adoration…

You drew a deep breath and slowly backed away from them with your gaze still fixed on them... Then without a second, you spun away from them and hastily made your way to the exit.

As you pushed the door open, you swiftly exited the pub, your lungs heaving and tears welling up in your eyes.  You don't even know why you're crying. You always see him with other girls so what changed, why it hurts? Is it due to alcohol? Many questions arise in your mind, yet none are answered.

With a ragged sob and pent-up tears flowing down your face, you let out a strangled howl. And it only worsened when a thunderstorm appeared and began to pour heavily, leaving you drenched from head to toe. 

"Fuck!" you hoarsely exclaimed as you continued down the road, leaving no care whether you get wet or sick. You just need to get away. You just need to numb the pain, "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuc-" 

"y/n!" you heard a voice call, stopping you in your tracks, and as you turned around, you saw him, the catalyst of your pain, Matt with an umbrella over his head, making his way inside you.

You immediately spun around and continue your way down the street, ignoring his call. You can't face right. You can't. You fucking can'-

"y/n, please, you'll get sick!" Matt pleaded.

You heard a frustrated groan from your back as a sequence of splashes of water became louder.

And before you can turn around to inspect it, a hand in your arm spun you around in a flash stopping you and startling you at the same time. Making you face Matt whose face is painted with frustration and scowl. 

"What the fuck are you thinking, y/n? You'll get sick from what you're doing!" Matt growled, tightening his grip on your arm as you struggled to yank it off.

As you locked your gaze into his, you saw fury flash into his eyes, but it quickly softened as he saw your face drenched in tears, snot, and rain, and as he heard you groan from the grip, he immediately released it, as if afraid of hurting you further.

'The irony,' you thought to yourself.

Matt then raised the umbrella above you and took a deep breath before asking softly, "...what's wrong?"

You both looked at one other for a long time. With him looking at you for an answer, while you... You're thinking. thinking about whether you'll admit it now, what's causing this, why you're crying, your agony, your feelings... 

But just always, you only mutter "nothing" leaving him in his umbrella without saying a word further and making your way to the station.

Dumbfounded, Matt look at your leaving figure. Hurt, confused, angry, he doesn't know anymore, but all he knows is that you're hurting…  He does not want to see you in pain. So, without a second thought, he pushed all his feelings aside and pursued you relentlessly. All he wants is for you to no longer be in pain.

"y/n!" you heard him call you repeatedly, and as usual, you ignored them, focused on getting away from here, getting away from him because you felt your grip is already loosening... 

But something stops you when you hear Matt angrily yell near you, "Why the fuck are you acting this way?!" 

"Leave it be, Matt."

"What the fuck is the problem?!" 

"I said to drop it—"

"Jesus Christ! Just give me a fucking answer-"

You felt something inside you snap, maybe because of the alcohol, as you turn around to him and look at his face "Do you really want an answer?!" cause Matt to stop in front of you.

"It's because I'm jealous! I'm fucking jealous, Matt!" 

Glaring at him with all hatred, "I'm jealous 'cause I love you. I fucking love you! Are you happy now?!" slapping him in his chest, letting out an anguished cry.

"Matt... Matt, why is it so easy for you to notice everyone but me? I'm right in front of you but you never saw me even once." you hoarsely said, closing your eyes you let out another sound strangle wails of pain that came in sync with the sound of thunder and rain pouring harder "Why is it so easy for you to love anyone but me...? Why can't it just be me Matt? Why not me?!"

You fucking said it, you fucking said it... Then there was a long pause. A rough chuckle let out from you when you heard nothing coming from him, only the continuous thundering and rain hitting the ground. This is it, everything changes now, everything is over... All will become strangers and nothing more. 

You spin around and rush away without even bothering to look at him. That's what you're always good at, running from everything, especially him.

As you keep on running further you didn't hear a thump of an umbrella thrown into the ground, and shoes splatting on the wet ground

And everything becomes too fast, as you felt a hand on your shoulder forcefully spinning you around, then two hands cupping your cheeks, and without even realizing lips landed on yours. The kiss was hard, ugly, and imperfect as filled with anger, pain, anguish, frustration... But even so, it's beautiful. The kiss is imperfectly beautiful.

As both of you felt having no breath left, you felt Matt reluctantly pull away from you, almost as if he didn't want to. And both your eyes lock, and you noticed a range of emotions lingering in his eyes. It spun with love, joy, fulfillment, and longing. You've never seen such emotion in his eyes before, and now it's staring right at you, causing you to feel overwhelmed.

And then he let out the three words that destroy all your expectations 

"I love you," Matt whispered to you longingly, staring at your eyes, your nose, your face, studying you as if this is your last "I love you very very much y/n, and I'm sorry for everything," 

As he continues saying his sorry to you let out a heavy sob from his confession, you feel so happy, you never once thought he would even feel the same. 

As you let out a chuckle you grab his right hand with both of your hands, making him pause from what he is saying and solely focus on you. Caressing it, you raise the back of his hand into your lips planting a longing kiss before returning his gaze to yours.

"Let's start a new," you muttered to him, smiling.

Looking at you dazed and stunned, all he did was nod and let out a happy grin.

A fresh start, a fresh start from everything else, and a new chapter in life. And this time, you'll be in the same chapter. Nobody but the two of you. 

[so-much-history-in-these-streets]

AFTG PLAYLIST - NORA'S PICKS

(If Nora blogged it or tagged it, it's here - I hope I got them all, feel free to add if I didn't!)

The Foxhole Court Lean On - Major Lazer & DJ Snake I'm Not A Saint - Billy Raffoul State of My Head - Shinedown

The Sunshine Court Breathe - Lo Spirit

Seth Gordon Hey, What's Up - Munn Someone, Please Come Help - Munn

Neil Josten Scars - Boy Epic

Andrew Minyard Numb Little Bug - Em Beihold

Kevin Day I'm So Sorry - Nico Collins Burning Castles - Nathan Wagner

Perfect Machine - Starset

Jean Moreau Bird Set Free - Sia Movements - Daylily

vivre ou survivre - Daniel Balavoine

Jean & Neil Used to the Darkness - Des Rocs

Nicky Hemmick Saints - Echos Cat & Jean My Same - Adele Jeremy & Laila Count On Me - Bruno Mars

Jean/Renee Walk Thru Fire - ViceTone She Is The Sunlight - Trading Yesterday

Minyard Confetti - Charlotte Cardin

Neil/Andrew Perfectly Broken - Banners

Jeremy Knox I Am - Tom Walker Best Day Of My life - American Authors

Jean/Jeremy The Other Side - The Greatest Showman Stargazing - Myles Smith

Carry You Home - Alex Warren

Kevin & Jean

Shinedown - Through The Ghost Xavier & Min A Boy Named Pluto - Hailey Knox Jean & Elodie (I’m Guessing, tagged: J&E) All of the Stars - Ed Sheeran Cody Winter Not Like I’m In Love With You - LEW

Pre AFTG

Tyler Brayden - Devil You Know (Renee)

Nessa Barrett - dying on the inside (Allison)

"To be tagged later" A Friend Like You - Andy Grammer

(tagged as 'not technically a TSC song' or as 'writing' in 2023) You're Not Alone - Saosin Hear Me Now - Framing Hanley Darkest Hour - Astrid S Might Love Myself - Baretooth My Brother - MisterWives Wings - Birdy Depression - Nathan Wagner Love Me Now, Or Lose Me Later - Kygo, Matt Hansen

Dark Things - Starset Untagged - (maybe just music she likes) Shots - Imagine Dragon Let's Hurt Tonight - One Republic La Di Die - Nessa Barrett I'm Doing Fine - Mike Waters Who Are You - SVRCINA Stole the Show - Kygo ft Parson James Sound of Surviving - Nichole Nordeman Pieces - Daughtry

[flowerxbunnie]

OK BESTIE LISTEN

i heard “roses are red, watches are gold. get on your knees and do as you’re told.” I NEED IT IN A MATT FIC PLEASEEEEEE

okok so maybe matt really reallyyyy wants to spend money on a pretty girl. you sign up on a sugar baby website for that coin, and y’all start talkingggg. he flies you out and books a hotel 👀 there’s a red dress and like a gold and diamond watch on the bed and rose petals and wine, w that on a note. and he gives you a time and place to meet him for dinner and is giving you the eyes alllll night. and yk the resttttt

Sugar Daddy

Matt x Fem Reader

Warnings: Smut, sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, fluffy ending

@lustfulslxt

DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT LIKE SMUT OR ARE A MINOR!

“Are you sure you don’t need me to come with you and spy from another table? I’m terrified you’re gonna get your head chopped off with an axe,” Jaycee says while lint rolling my dress.

“Girl I promise I’ll be fine. Most of the time these guys can’t even walk without a cane, let alone chase me down with an axe,” I laugh, checking myself in the mirror again. “Plus I’ll have my location on. One bad vibe and I promise I’ll let you know.”

I smile and hug my best friend, pulling away and spinning around to show her the back of the dress.

“How do I look? Think I’ll get a big payout tonight?” I say while raising an eyebrow in a jokingly seductive way.

“Honey I KNOW his wallet is gonna be screaming and crying at him after you’re done with him. Do you have to��� you know…?” She does a ring shape with one hand and pokes her finger in and out.

“Fuck him?” I laugh, swatting her hands down. “It just depends. A lot of these guys just want a pretty girl to keep them company. Like some of them I literally just eat dinner with and that’s it. But if they want little something extra and I’m feeling up for it, why not?”

“What does he look like?” she questions.

I shrug before quickly trying to explain it the easiest way I can after I see the worried look on her face.

“So first of all, this sugar daddy app is referral only, so it’s definitely safe. He has to have been referred by another sugar baby, passed a background check, proven he can pay out, submitted a photo of himself to the owner of the app, all that jazz. But it’s kinda like a blind date.. on my end? Like he knows what I look like but not my name.. but I’ve never seen him… I know the first letter of his name… Anyway I don’t know why exactly it’s a thing, but it was created by former sugar babies and I think it’ll be cool to give it a shot!” I spew all this information at her as she stares at me just blinking.

“Oh…okayyy…” she trails off before adding “Please please be safe, Y/n. You know I’m just a phone call away!” She kisses my cheek and walks back to her room.

I pull out my phone and open my messages with M.

-Onyx hotel at 6pm. Reservation will be under the name Adam Smith. They’ll get you in no problem.

Adam Smith causes me to raise an eyebrow, but I order an Uber and sit around for for a while before looking in my full length mirror again, smoothing out my black dress and fluffing my hair. I spray a vanilla scented perfume onto the pulse points of my neck and grab my bag. I dig through it and make sure I still have my pepper spray and stun gun. I know I’ll be fine, the app is super well rated and trustworthy, but you never know what some of these dudes will try.

•••

The Uber pulls up to the door of a massive hotel. I’m no architect but it looks like the doorway is carved from marble. I step out of my Uber and thank my driver before making my way into the doors of the Onyx, a door greeter offering to show me to the desk.

“Hi, I have a room booked under the name Adam Smith.” I smile as the lady behind the desk types into her computer to pull up the file.

“Got it right here sweetie.” She reaches under the desk to get the room key and slides it across the counter to me. “All the way to the top floor, make a right and it’s the door at the end of the hall. Have fun with Mr. Smith,” she adds in at the end, and I swear I can see a smirk on her face.

I make my way to the elevator, now flustered, and press the button for the top floor, my heart beginning to beat a little harder as I realize I’ll be meeting M face to face in a few short moments. Before I can think too hard, the elevator doors slide open. I step out and make my way to the end of the hall, my heels clicking with each step and echoing off the walls. I pull out the room key and take a deep breath before sliding the card into the reader and watching it blink green.

“Don’t fuck this up, Y/n. You need this money.” I think to myself.

I push the door open and I’m met with the scent of champagne and sweet roses. It smells like luxury.

“Hello, M?” I ask, shutting and locking the door behind me.

I’m met with a still silence. I put my bag down by the door and survey the room. It’s massive, marble floors with intricate wallpaper donning the walls. There’s even an office area with a desk, notepads and various office supplies. I notice an open pen on the desk, but I’m honestly too scared to touch anything. It all looks fucking expensive. My phone vibrates in my hand and I see a message from M pop up on my lock screen.

-You make it in okay?

-Yes, where are you?

-Check the bed.

I make my way over to the queen size bed and gasp. I see a red satin dress laid out surrounded by rose petals. It’s gorgeous, way better than the dress I picked for myself tonight. There’s a note beside it, and when I pick it up I find a black velvet box that was strategically hidden underneath the paper. I unfold the note and read the smooth handwriting,

“Roses are red, watches are gold.

Get on your knees and do as you’re told.”

I immediately break out in a blush, smiling to myself just from seeing M’s words on the page. Guess I know what I’ll be getting myself into later. I read further down the note and I see something else scribbled out.

“I’ll be waiting, my lady in red.”

I pick up the black velvet box and open it, shocked once I’m met with a shining gold watch encrusted with diamonds around the face. I pick it up gently out of its cushioning and flip it over, an “M” carved into the gold underside of the watch. Fuck, that’s honestly hot. Marking me already? I slip it onto my wrist gently and fasten the clasp, the cold watch against my wrist giving me shivers but it fits perfectly.

I slip off my black dress and shimmy into the red one, smiling as it zips up and clings onto me like a glove. I feel like pure luxury right now, checking myself out in the mirror before I see my phone light up on the bed.

-Uber is outside. See you soon.

I swear this man is already driving me crazy. He ordered the nicest Uber I’ve ever been in and made sure I had a glass of champagne ready to be poured to sip on during the ride. We pull up to a restaurant I’ve never even heard of and my driver gets out to open my door for me. “Watch your step, sweetheart.”

I walk to the reservations counter and give them the same name I was told to give to the hotel, and I’m led to a table in the back of the restaurant. My heart is beating out of my chest at this point. This is the first blind date I’ve been on at all, let alone with a potential sugar daddy. What if he’s hideous or weird or creepy?

I’m pretty sure my eyes fell out and rolled onto the floor when I saw M. He’s a young, hot brunette with striking blue eyes that feel like they’re burning holes into my skin.

“Your waiter will be over shortly,” the hostess smiles and walks back the other way.

M stands up to pull my seat out for me, but not before grabbing my hand and placing a soft kiss onto the backside, making my heart skip a beat before I sit down and he pushes me closer to the table.

“Not what you were expecting, I’m guessing?” He questions, his eyes locked onto mine with a smug smile.

“No not at all. I mean, I’m not mad about it I just-” I take a shaky breath, trying to calm my nerves before speaking again. “Usually the men I meet are shriveled up and on their last leg. You seem so young to be doing this kind of thing.”

He laughs and nods. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“A lot? So you’ve been doing this for a while, then?” I question, grabbing the glass of water that was waiting on me and take a sip, my berry red lipstick leaving a mark on the rim.

“Not too long. Maybe six months?” He looks up in thought. “Yeah like six or seven.”

“What’s your real name, Mr. M?” I ask in a lower voice, playing up the mystery vibe.

“I’m Matthew… or just Matt. And yours, pretty lady?”

“Y/n. Pleasure to be getting to know you better, Matthew.”

•••

We drink and eat and talk for what feels like hours, getting to know the ins and outs of both of our experiences in the sugar daddy world. I learn that Matthew is an influencer who makes crazy money and doesn’t know what to spend it on. He explained to me that he’s always had a love for gift giving, and when the money started rolling in and he realized he could get any girl he wanted, it combined and spiraled into almost a fetish to spend money on beautiful women.

I surprisingly understand where he’s coming from and we talked about that for a good chunk of the night. I felt like I was kinda playing therapist in a way, helping him see the reasons for why he does these “taboo” things from a nonjudgmental perspective.

After we finish dinner and drinks he orders another Uber and walks me out, opening the door for me and placing his hand on the small of my back to guide me down to my seat. I scoot to the seat behind the driver and watch as Matt ducks down to take his seat and shuts the black car door. I click my seatbelt and look up to see him scooting closer to me and settling in the middle seat, flashing a smirk my way.

The ride back to the Onyx is filled with glasses of champagne and shared giggles while we listen to the Uber driver tell us the story of his life that we definitely didn’t ask for. Matt’s hand nonchalantly lands on my thigh at some point during a giggle fit and I swear I freeze, not out of fear but anticipation. His fingers trail to the inner part of my thigh while his thumb rests on top tracing back and forth, sending butterflies through my entire body. He just looks over at me and smiles before turning back to the driver and egging him on, asking stupid questions like, “So then what did you do once they threw your shit on the street??”

It’s all a blur, his hand wondering aimlessly up and down my thigh with no intention to venture under my dress just yet. His smooth skin catching and reflecting the lights of the city as we journey through traffic. I feel like I can’t really concentrate on the conversation and I barely speak. This man is gorgeous inside and out- it’s like I’ve known him for years. It’s weird and it’s making me so flustered, but thankfully we come to a stop outside the Onyx and I can release the breath I’ve been holding in.

Matt steps out and walks to the driver’s window, handing him an envelope and shaking his hand before stepping towards my door and holding his hand out for me. I grab onto it and I feel a weird feeling shoot across my body just from the simple feeling of his skin on mine. He doesn’t let go as we make our way though the doors and into the lobby. He shoots the lady at the front desk a wave and a smile before we turn the corner towards the elevators.

The ride to the top floor feels like it takes triple the amount time as it did when I did it alone. Matt moves to stand across from me with his back leaned against the wall, stealing glances occasionally. There’s a silence between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s filled with a tension so thick I can almost physically feel it. We exit as we reach our floor and he lets me lead the way.

“That dress fits you so perfectly, sweetheart,” he whispers as he trails behind me.

I can feel his eyes burning into my back as I chuckle and try to keep the blush from spreading across my cheeks. We reach the door to the room and I stop to dig through my purse for the key, but before I finish Matt reaches around me, his chest touching my back, and swipes his own key. His veiny hand turns the handle and pushes it open before we step inside. I sit my bag down on the desk and reach down to take off my heels before I’m interrupted by his deep voice.

“Let me take them off. Sit on the bed.”

“Oh, yes sir,” I say in a teasing voice, raising my eyebrows and walking over to the bed before settling on the edge.

He moves to stand in front of me and grabs my right ankle gently, running his hand up to my knee before placing my heel onto his belt. I watch as his fingers delicately trace the strap around my ankle and find the clasp, undoing it before slipping my heel off and tossing it to the side. He repeats the same actions on my left leg, but once this heel is removed he drops to his knees and props my leg onto his shoulder causing me to fall onto my back and gasp.

He reaches down to grab my other leg and props it onto his other shoulder. His eyes snap up to meet mine, a look of lust written all over his face. I can feel myself starting to throb, a puddle forming between my thighs as he tilts his head towards my inner thigh and brushes his stubble along the tender skin.

I usually don’t get this into the sex with the other men I meet. They’re almost all over the age of 50 with some kind of ailment and it’s just not my vibe. I need the money so I do it, and I won’t lie, I’ve ended up being shocked and enjoying it a couple of times. But Matt has barely even touched me and my body is craving him desperately.

He spreads my legs as his lips cover my thighs in wet kisses, trailing achingly close to my core as he pushes my dress up around my hips.

He looks down at my panties as if he’s an artist admiring his work, running his thumb along the fabric and feeling the arousal that had made itself visible. He meets my gaze and increases his pressure, tilting his head in awe as if he’s poking an animal in a cage. Soft whimpers start involuntarily leaving my lips, my hips rocking against him.

“Fuck, look at you already squirming for me.” He licks his lips and leans forward, flattening his tongue across the fabric causing me to moan and grip the sheets from the pressure and warmth.

He watches as I react and blinks slowly before licking a stripe from the bottom to the top, biting at the hem and letting go roughly. The elastic stings my skin but he quickly places kisses along my skin to soothe it.

“F-fuck, Matthew.” I can’t help but roll my eyes back, going insane from all the teasing.

He uses his index finger to pull my panties to the side, letting out a deep groan when his eyes meet my dripping pussy. He wastes no time before burying his head between my legs, his tongue dancing up and down my core.

“Tastes so fucking good,” he almost whines as he comes up for a breath.

He continues lapping me up and I’m a mess underneath him, cursing, arching my back off the bed, gripping at the sheets, pulling his hair. Anything to release the tension building up in my body.

He pulls back, bringing his hand down and teasing my entrance with his middle finger before easing it in. I moan out as he curls up into my g spot, which prompts him to repeat the motion repeatedly. He brings his head back down to suck on my clit, making unbreaking eye contact.

A knot is twisting in my stomach at the sight of his blue eyes staring into mine, him working relentlessly to bring me to my peak. My legs begin to tighten around his head but he doesn’t fight it. He picks his pace up and begins humming deliciously into my pussy.

“Let me see that pretty face while you’re cumming on mine.” he says breathlessly dipping back down to flick his tongue across my clit.

I prop myself up onto my elbows and stare down at him, and his eyes look like they’re almost begging for me to release.

“M-Matt I’m gonna… fuck I’m gonna cum,” I whine before feeling the tension in my stomach snap and my orgasm flush through my body. I can see the smile in his eyes as he watches me come undone, making a mess of myself while crying out his name and clenching around his finger.

“Was that good, princess?” He asks, standing up and undoing the buttons on his shirt with one hand while pushing his hair out of his face with the other.

“Best one I’ve had in a while,” I pant, trying to get my breathing back to normal.

He simply smiles and slips his button up off, tossing it beside the bed. He grabs both of my hands and pulls me into a sitting position then reaches down and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Let’s see how good those pretty little lips look around me, hm?”

I blush and reach for his belt, making eye contact as I undo it slowly and unbutton his pants. I see his jaw clenching as I take down the zipper and begin to tug at the waistband. My breath hitches as his dick springs up and brushes my face in the process. That same smug grin he keeps doing creeps onto his lips as he takes himself into his hand and pumps his cock steadily while looking down at me.

His free hand comes up to grab my jaw, his thumb parting my lips and teeth. He brushes the rough pad of his thumb across my tongue gently a few times before pushing it to the back of my throat, chuckling when I gag and pull away. He slides his head into my mouth and closes his eyes in pleasure.

I grip his base and pump with a twisting motion a few times before taking all I can of his length into my mouth. I begin to bob my head back and forth, stopping at the tip to swirl my tongue around his head every so often. His breathing gets heavier as I run my free hand up and down his abdomen, my nails leaving a trail of red marks in their wake.

He brings both hands into the lengths of my hair and twists it once around his hands before tugging my head back and thrusting himself further into the back of my throat.

“Look at you taking it so well, such a good girl for me,” he groans as he continues pumping in and out of my mouth.

He throws his head back and I can feel his dick twitching, so I pull back and hold my mouth open with my tongue out, ready to swallow his load.

“Ready to take it down your throat, hm? I have something else in mind, baby. Get on the bed.”

“Get me out of this thing first,” I beg, standing up with my back to him motioning to the zipper on my dress.

I feel his warm hands touch my hips and trail up my sides before brushing across my back and tugging the zipper down, pulling the straps off my shoulders and letting the dress hit the floor. I can feel his breath on my back as I feel the clasps of my bra coming undone slowly. I slip it off and toss my panties aside before crawling up the bed. I press my chest to the bed and arch my back as I feel the bed dipping beneath his weight. I feel his presence behind me before two hands come down to knead my ass and give it a light smack.

“It’s like you already knew how I wanted you,” he laughs and pulls my hips toward him.

“Lucky guess,” I giggle, my breath hitching soon after as I feel his hard dick sliding up and down my folds.

He slaps his tip against my entrance a couple times before pushing into me and sucking in a harsh breath.

“Such a tight little pussy,” he says as he bottoms out and holds for a few seconds.

I’m aching for movement so I wiggle my hips back and forth, feeling the fullness and how he feels against my walls. He grips onto my hips and squeezes, pulling out halfway before pushing all the way back in harshly.

He picks up his pace and the room is filled with moans and the sound of our skin slapping together. I can’t help but throw myself back into him, desperate to somehow have him deeper than what’s possible- it feels primal and animalistic. His sweat drips onto my back as he pants and keeps a steady rhythm, and the noises coming out of me are something I’ve never heard myself do before.

His thrusts get slower and slower, more unpredictable, before he pulls out and flips me onto my back, legs wide open for him.

“Touch yourself, baby. Let me watch.” he demands as he stays on his knees between my legs jerking himself.

I bring my hand down to my clit and rub small circles, watching as his eyes rake up and down my body. I bring my free hand up to my breast and pinch my nipple between my fingers, rolling and tugging gently.

His mouth hangs open and I watch the muscles in his arm contract as his grip tightens. I bring my finger up from my pussy to my mouth, tasting myself on my fingers and getting them wet before returning to my core, rubbing back and forth on my clit faster than before knowing I’m about to spill over the edge. I bite my lip to stifle my cries as my high crashes through my body, my head rushing and body tingling.

This must have been enough for Matt to break, and he watches intently as he spills his warm load onto my pussy, drips falling down onto the sheets underneath.

He falls down to lay beside me on the bed, both of us dizzy and dazed. I watch his chest rising and falling rhythmically as he catches his breath, not laying for too long before he gets up and quickly walks to the bathroom, returning with a washcloth.

“Can I?” He asks, sitting between my legs and holding the rag out, a much more innocent look on his face than the last time he was in this position.

I giggle and nod, appreciating him wanting to help me clean up. This is such a different experience than any other one I’ve had in this line of work. It felt so much deeper and personal. I can’t let my mind play tricks on me, though. He’ll have another girl in this room before another week passes. I’m just another sugar baby he can get off to and forget about. I keep the smile on my face despite the way I’m feeling, knowing I need the money and I can’t screw this up by bringing up any sort of emotion.

He tosses the wash cloth into the bathroom trash before picking his shirt up from beside the bed and walking over to me.

“Uh, you can wear this.. if you want?” He says seeming unsure of himself.

“Oh, my original dress is in the drawer over there, that’ll probably look more normal than a big button up when I go back through the lobby,” I giggle and sit up, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed.

“I meant like.. if you wanted to stay a while? I don’t have anything comfier but I figured it’s better than a dress,” he trails off, shifting on his feet as he looks around the room.

Stay? I’ve never had any of these men clean me up before, let alone offer for me to stay.

“Y-yeah, sure. I mean, that sounds great! You don’t have anything else going on tonight?” I question, trying to gauge his reaction.

“No, nothing going on. I just..” he picks at the skin on his fingers before claiming a spot beside me on the bed and staring intently into my eyes.

“Did you feel it too? I’ve never felt that way with any of these hookups before. I feel like you get me. Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe I’m being a fucking idiot and reading too much into it. Let me get your check,” he says shaking his head and abruptly standing up.

I grab his hand and hop to my feet beside him, trying not to smile like a fool.

“No, no.. forget the check, Matt. I felt it too.”

He exhales a deep breath before gripping my face with both of his hands. “I want to get to know you properly, Y/n. I don’t want you to feel like I’m just using you.”

I press a kiss onto his lips and pull away smiling.

“Give me the damn shirt.”

[weepingchoir]

DOCTOR WHO SERIES 14: A FULL SEASON REVIEW

Another decade, another frantic Doctor Who resuscitation. (Not that there were news of potential cancellation, but things must’ve been dire for the BBC to sell one of their most storied shows to the Mouse.) Chibnall is out, Moffat on retainer, Russell “Thee” Davies is in. The theme song is the best since Matt Smith, which, through weird and inexplicable coincidence, was also the last time I watched Who with any serious interest. Good start.

The Star Beast

While not technically part of the season, the specials preceding series 14 signal the beginning of a shift in tone and rules for Doctor Who, including the introduction of the new Doctor. Not yet, though. First we get an OLD DOCTOR FUCK YES DAVID TENNANT IS BACK.

I already know Tennant won’t stick around, and I’m glad. That would’ve stunk of Disney nostalgia-raking. Nevertheless, as a returning viewer, I’m grateful for the breakfall. “The Star Beast” doesn’t yet carry the magic that’ll characterize Gatwa’s series. It’s a standard scifi monster of the week serial, and the monster rules. Looking for returning companion Donna Noble, the Doctor runs into the Meep, a no-pronouns gremlin-Yoda puppet living in Donna’s shed, under the care of her daughter, Rose.

UNIT comes under attack by Kamen Riders. The Meep tears off the blorbo mask to reveal a genocidal dictator on the lam from the Intergalactic Criminal Court. It’s a hilarious turn in an episode whose emotional core relies on Rose’s transgenderedness. Pronouns are a real-time strategy game and evil space aliens are better at it than humans.

Quick dustup on weird plot shit: if Donna remembers the Doctor she dies. She has to remember anyway, in order to stop the Meep’s ship from taking off. Turns out that she’s since become immune to Time Lord neuron overload by offloading it on her daughter. Donna and Rose expel the toxic memories by harnessing their feminine emotional intelligence.

I don’t want it to land. Facing the Doctor, who was a woman one episode ago, Rose says that a man could never understand how she just harnessed the divine feminine. Nevertheless it passes, maybe because any representation of a transgender woman as through-and-through female is a gasp of fresh air. For better or worse, this also cues the season’s cardinal rule: what you feel is true is more important than what makes sense.

Wild Blue Yonder

The TARDIS crashlands at the edge of the universe and disappears when it senses danger, one of those things that it’s never done before and will only do again if it’s funny or cool.

The “edge of the universe” is a spaceship floating in ink-black, with Marvin the Paranoid Timebomb making its way down the hall, one step at a time. This is a great opportunity to ease us into the budgetful new Doctor Who, with sleek but understated shots of the spaceship’s exterior. When the Doctor and Donna split up to fix the ship, they converse with each other’s doppelgangers: “not-things” from beyond reality, looking to assimilate physics. Communication with the not-things goes awry as an eerie set of medium close-ups pull back to reveal their overlong limbs.

Backed with half a decade of set chemistry, Tennant and Catherine Tate ace all four characters in this bottle episode. Much of the runtime consists of the Doctor and Donna’s mind games against each other. It’s less a restatement and more a self-justifying exploration of why bother with a last hurrah for two fan favorites. Well-earned, too, as the Doctor nearly leaves the real Donna to die in the ship’s explosion. It’s impossible to be done exploring the fullness of a relationship. But one day, and soon, we will have to move on.

The Giggle

 Two crucial stopgaps against the not-things. One, a line of salt on the floor, which the Doctor tricks them into thinking they can’t cross, since they’re sorta vampires. Two, cognitive dissonance. It’s hard enough for the uncreatures to assimilate beliefs, let alone simultaneous contradictory ideas.

The Doctor fears that, by invoking fiddly rules at the edge of reality, he’s opened a door for fell mythos. This episode stars the Toymaker, a villain from a partially restored First Doctor serial. Originally a Fu Manchu caricature, the new Toymaker is Neil Patrick Harris putting on a German accent, which he can always do, it’s never racist.

The Toymaker has snuck a mind-warping signal into every screen, starting with the 1925 Stookie Bill experiment. Now mankind is mad , reacting with explosive hostility at any confrontation. Over the last decade, as writers have moved from mocking subsets of people for being on phone to everyone being on phone, we’ve uncovered more cohesive portrayals of what 24/7 connection is doing to us. Writ large, more and more of us are looking to win arguments. Even losing is a thrill.

It’s a contrived plan for a villain whose power transcends mere limitless control over physical matter. The only thing that binds the Toymaker is the rules of the game. We can trace the evolution of TV drama by comparing his first appearance to his last, William Hartnell’s almost congenial gotchas to Tennant’s panic at genuine omnipotence. The Toymaker traps the Doctor and Donna in a theater for a puppet play about the many deaths of the former’s companions. The Doctor, ever the hero, denies them three times.

Well, are they dead? These specials have proven that, even in the megacorp mines, fan favorite returns don’t have to be Rise of Skywalker gruel. Donna, and the Fourth Doctor’s returning Mel Bush, bring necessary continuity to the transition into new-new Who.

Not everything, at least, has to end in tragedy. When the Toymaker commandeers the giant laser gun the government is cool with UNIT keeping in uptown London, the Doctor bigenerates, splitting into straight Tennant (presumably) and gay Ncuti Gatwa. Together they beat the Toymaker at catch, which banishes him for good.

From here on, we follow Gatwa’s Doctor. Tennant stays with Donna. There is movement in rest, organic, within. Their relationship may continue to develop, just where we can’t see it. Not everything is for screen consumption.

The Church On Ruby Road

Every time I see this episode’s title I get Hüsker Dü’s “Girl Who Lives On Heaven Hill” stuck in my head, except the Inter Arma cover because that’s the first time I heard that. The Doctor is fortunate enough to run into one of the few actresses that can match his energy, Millie Gibson as Ruby Sunday: songwriter, orphan and ingenue. Ruby lives a zoomer kitsch apartment with string lights on the walls, alongside her adoptive mother and grandmother. She suffers from a curse of bad luck, bewitched by an airshipful of baby-eating goblins.

The Doctor and Ruby stop the goblins from eating a baby, to the tune of an R&B paean to Jabba-the-Hut, the only logical step from the Toymaker’s Spice Girls lipsync sequence. The goblins retaliate by traveling in time to eat baby Ruby, abandoned by her mother on Christmas day on the porch of The Church That Lives On Ruby Road. Watching Ruby’s mother go, Gatwa cries his series-first tear of silent grief. He’s very good at that.

The Doctor’s rule of no self-interaction has fucked his opportunity to let Ruby meet her biological mother. Pay attention, this’ll be on the test. Other than that, “The Church” is an easy, fun, low-stakes introduction to the Doctor’s companion and many of the season’s dominos, only some of which will receive a proper knockdown.

Space Babies

The first real ostentatious show of Disney budget is a quick but lush visit to James Cameron's Mesozoic. A CGI diplodocus doesn’t have to be bad. CGI baby mouths, on the other hand.

Budget cuts strand a colony spaceship, replete with babies in a bizarre state of semi-suspended animation: they’ve been toddlers for six years. Only accountant Jocelyn remains. The babies are terrorized by the Boogeyman, a snot monster generated by glitched-out educational software. Jocelyn almost airlocks the Boogeyman until the Doctor reminds her that it’s kind of her baby also.

The Doctor’s memory of Ruby Road changes to feature Ruby’s mother pointing at him. It starts snowing indoors, another magic plot puzzle piece. Cue tear of silent grief. There’s not much else to say about “Space Babies”. It’s a lot of terrible ideas, executed with functional neatness: quoting a friend, the platonic ideal of a Russell T 6/10.

The Devil’s Chord

1925 again! There’s a whole pantheon of Toymaker-type evil gods. This one’s Maestro, the god of music, played by a spectacular Jinkx Monsoon. Over the course of four decades, Maestro ruins music so thoroughly that even Abbey Road sounds like dogwater.

The Doctor and Ruby negotiate with the Beatles, who make dodgy gestures towards the whole of music being an embarrassing business. It’s never made clear how Maestro has convinced the world of this, or, like the Toymaker’s giggle, why they bothered when they have the power to eat music itself. We’ve crossed into the realm of magic. It’s not about the method, but the goal: within a hundred years, musicless mankind will self-exterminate to vent its anger, leaving Maestro to enjoy pure aeolian tones.

It’s hard to agree that music is the salve keeping mankind from abject violence when contending with the history of, Burzum, Chris Brown or Meni Mamtera. Nor does the idea that Maestro can be defeated by a seven-note scale available to basic Western music theory hold much water. “The Devil’s Chord” is an altogether less cohesive “The Giggle”, and only three episodes after its predecessor, too. On the other hand, as a piece of musical cinema, it’s a brilliant watch for Monsoon’s performance, the playful metanarrative gestures, and the closing number, ‘There’s Always A Twist At The End’.

Boom

On the ravaged planet of Kastarion-3, there is only war. A landmine vaporizes a guy, attracting an 'ambulance' automaton to euthanize his friend Vater by reducing him into an awesomely gross flesh tube.

Gatwa leaves the TARDIS in a super-sexy leather jacket and steps on a mine. What follows is ten agonizing minutes of the Doctor and Ruby figuring out the logistics of the situation. The Doctor can’t move off the smart mine or exhibit high emotion. On finding Vater’s tube, Ruby convinces the Doctor to let her hand it to him to use as a counterweight, in a move that almost kills them both. The pressure is immense, achieved with nothing but close-ups to tears of silent grief and a silly prop of a landmine with LEDs.

Vater’s daughter finds the duo, triggering the flesh tube to generate a grief counselor hologram of her father. Ruby gets shot while managing a haywire ambulance. The only way to get the ambulance to treat her is to admit that the Kastarians never existed. With a full third of characters dead, Cyber-Vater betrays its parent corporation to end the war. This is the most stressful Doctor Who gets, in all the best ways. For a second, and against all logic, I was even convinced it might be the end of Ruby Sunday.

“Boom” is the closest Gatwa’s Doctor has to a companion capsule episode. This focus on their relationship might’ve gone over even better if it’d been earlier in the run, especially given “The Devil’s Chord” has the opposite problem. I suspect the prime reason why it’s placed in an awkward middle slot is to not give away the game: “Boom” front-and-centers Susan Twist, who’s played minor roles in almost every episode since “Wild Blue Yonder”, as the face of the combat ambulance AI. There’s always a twist at the end, remember?

73 Yards

The Doctor’s always stepping on some bullshit. After intruding on a ritual circle, he disappears, leaving Ruby alone with a mysterious woman that’s always standing 73 yards away. Everyone who talks to the woman flies goes no-contact with Ruby: a hiker, a bar-goer, UNIT, even, in a harrowing turn, Ruby’s adoptive mother. So Ruby spends the next twenty years alone. Without her family, and also alone in this ethereal way where she’s meant to be on startlit adventures, not half-there on a wine bar date.

Gibson carries this mammoth episode on her shoulders, evolving from panicked 20 year old to middle-aged, purpose-driven mercenary. The closest thing to a co-star is the cinematography, following her eyes towards the woman-shaped hole in the near horizon. This is one of the subtler metanarrative moments of the season: the woman is impossible to photograph, blurry in pictures just as she’s never in focus for the camera.

Ruby makes up a mission: save the world from ‘Mad Jack’ Roger ap Gwilliam, a presidential candidate whom the Doctor off-hand warned would lead the world to nuclear ruin. Infiltrating, Jack’s presidential campaign, she maneuvers the woman into manifesting next to him, which makes him run screaming from office. The world is saved. Ruby isn’t. As she lays dying of old age, alone, the mystery woman is revealed to be herself, traveling back in time to warn the Doctor off the circle.

This is the furthest Doctor Who can stray from its own standards before becoming a different show altogether. The theme song doesn’t even play (shame). Not a coincidence, it’s also the episode to most demand that we trust emotion over logic, and it pays back that trust with dividends. It doesn’t matter that we never find out why there was a shrine to Mad Jack atop a cliff in Wales twenty years before his time, or the mechanism by which Ruby created a closed time loop. The important bit is the emotional resonance, the click of catharsis when we discover just enough details to let it rest.

Dot and Bubble

I feared, as “Dot” opened on a woman so dependent on social media that she can’t navigate her immediate surroundings without GPS, that this would be the Phone Bad episode “The Giggle” had managed to surpass. The truth is more complex: Finetime’s residents can afford to spend all day Whatsapping because they’re the offspring of another planet’s leisure class, here on permanent vacation.

Giant man-eating slugs have invaded Finetime, and the Dot-Bubble navigation system is walking people straight into their maws. Our lead is neither Gatwa nor Gibson, but Callie Cooke as Lindy Pepper-Bean in yet another of the acting masterclasses that characterize this season. An ongoing tension point is whether Lindy can keep her Bubble down long enough to string together two tasks. This means the season’s highest ratio of close-ups to other shots. Cooke carries this focus with recidivist disdain, processing the situation in arbitrary bursts only to default to anger at the Doctor for intruding on her groupchat, or elation at meeting a celebrity singer.

The slugs are an invention of the Dot, which, after years of servicing Finetime, has learned hate. Huddled outside the habitat dome, the all-white survivors reject the Doctor’s 'dirty' safe passage, and strike out to colonize the wilderness, ‘like their ancestors’.

Laterally to Phone Bad, an ongoing trend in wronghead fiction is Rich Bad. Movies like Bodies Bodies Bodies portray the bourgeoise as a self-obsessed bunch who will fall snarling on themselves at the first provocation. This is not what makes the bourgeoise dangerous, but in fact the exact opposite: because the rich have everything to lose, they will close ranks against you, no matter how much good you’ve done for them, no matter what you could yet do.

Rogue

Before the season ends, anybody want to defend England one last time? Playing nobility at a Regency London ball, the Doctor runs into Rogue, a bounty hunter who mistakes him (at gunpoint) for a shapeshifting, murderous Chuldur.

The Chuldur are fans of Bridgerton, on Earth to cosplay it to death. In order to lure them out, The Doctor and Rogue publicize their whirlwind romance. If “Dot and Bubble” was a response to the idea that Gatwa might run into racism if he travels to the past, “Rogue” is its inversion: the plan works because the modern Chuldur can’t resist the titillation of wearing a black gay man. They run after the hypervisible Doctor, while the white Rogue becomes “the other one”. He’s less problematized, less interesting, the one you get stuck with if you don’t call intersectional shotgun.

After the trap is sprung by accident, Rogue's banished alongside the Chuldur to a random dimension of nobody’s knowing. The Doctor declares it’s impossible to find him. We’ll see about that.

For all its nods towards fandom, “Rogue” isn’t a po-faced condemnation of fan culture. Ultimately, the Chuldur too are defeated through cosplay. Plus, it’s a straight beat-by-beat of the strongest points in Who structure: strong side characters, scifi logistics, a villain as goofy as it’s horrific. Whether its back-to-back placement with its thematic mirror, or as a segue to the season finale, is ideal, is anyone’s guess. 

The Legend of Ruby Sunday

The Doctor asks for UNIT’s help in figuring out why Susan Twist follows him everywhere. On 2024 Earth, she’s Susan Triad, tech CEO on the verge of releasing some kind of Alexa thing. But before we get to that, the Doctor decides now’s the time to meet Ruby’s biomom.

Using a ‘Time Window’, Ruby visualizes The Church That Lives On Ruby Road. Ruby cries: the Window refuses to show her mother’s face. The machine goes all creepypasta on some UNIT boot. Panicked, the Doctor chases down Triad, who reveals she can remember her past lives in dreams.

Triad pulls away to her conference. Though she’s live worldwide, her soundstage is empty, the crowd canned. Where much of this season has dealt with the phenomenons of mass media and TV, “The Legend” digs into a grief specific to Doctor Who, an ill-kempt archive of decades forever on the verge of cancellation.

Little else happens, for two good reasons. First, this episode is a two-parter. Second, much of its runtime is dedicated to extracting maximum stress out of the situation. Ruby is too compromised to act, while the Doctor and UNIT are late from the start, only just figuring out the situation in time to witness it unfold. The big reveal paying off all this anxiety, crossed purposes, fear and despair is, unfortunately, a CGI dog with a hat.

Empire of Death

Sutekh is a Fourth Doctor villain who’s been locked in the Time Vortex for thousands of years or a dozen seasons, whichever’s longest. He has spawned harbingers like Triad in every planet that the Doctor’s visited, and his “dust of death” has the power to kill nost just everyone, but everyone at every point in time. In the era of streaming television (and stream-only television), the C-suite can overnight erase all evidence that a show ever existed.

Through a bit of absurd circular logic, the Doctor declares that the Time Window’s memory of a TARDIS is in fact a functioning TARDIS. The crew escapes to roam a deserted universe. The memory TARDIS begs to tie long-dangling plot strands into knots of neat logic. Instead, a bunch of nonsense dialogue happens. When Ruby asks the Doctor why Sutekh has a The Mummy thing going on, the Doctor answers “cultural appropriation”, and fails to elaborate. Laterally, when Ruby casually lists the chameleon circuit’s AOE as 73 yards, the Doctor asks how she knew that. She’s not sure. Nothing comes of this.

Because Sutekh is incapable of seeing Ruby’s mother, the Doctor decides it’s all tied together and heads to a government office in Mad Jack Britain, containing the UK’s forcibly harvested genetic data. Much more cohesive commentary on racism than reminding us cultural appropration is a thing Doctor Who has done. Armed with knowledge, the Doctor baits Sutekh into the Time Vortex, where he forces him to, like, kill death and then die in turn.

It’s a fantastic turn of character for the Doctor, who oft makes a spurious point of not killing in order to condemn villains to fates worse than death, or adopts a ‘War Doctor’ persona which kills a bunch of people anyway. It’s a matter of framing, but also a genuine point of no return. As for less satisfying character beats: Ruby gets to meet her mother, who’s just some middle-aged Instagrammer with a bad haircut and a passion for rocky beaches.

So why was this character immune to everyone from the Time Window to Sutekh, and the unwitting carrier of Ruby’s inherited power to make it snow? Because, the Doctor explains, we cared about her.

Which begs the question: who is we?

The easiest answer is: the last people left alive in the universe. But Ruby’s been making it snow since “Space Babies”. Not proximity to the Doctor either, else the Doctor himself would have magic powers: on the contrary, he’s spent the whole season grappling with his limited ratfic ability to deal with the supernatural. And there’s millions of orphans out there. Ruby is, in this regard as in most else, not special.

Taken all together along with the season’s metanarrative overtures, which keep going right up to the last second of “Empire”, the only answer is that we are the audience. Or the audience and the crew, anyhow: the camera, the screen, Ruby’s protagonism and the people that accept it. We have imbued Ruby Sunday with transcendental power, because we would like her to transcend.

This doesn’t work unless I am more emotionally than narratively invested in Ruby Sunday.

Not that I didn’t get torn up when Ruby met her mother. But that’s just cinema trickery. A season’s worth of promises, a bit of music, very good acting: of course I was going to care. Not more than I care about finding out what the fuck was going on, though. As an explanation, this all rounds out to: what was going on is what was going on. Ruby’s mom was important because she mattered to us, and it mattered to us because she was important. Me, I refuse to be complicit.

There is an unpleasant extreme to the logical lens, the CinemaSinners combing through scripts, sacrificing the greater story to the tendentious idol of Plot Holes. Doctor Who has long been plagued by these types, pitfalls of being an easy-watching BBC show with a large audience. Series 14 scans like a concerted effort to not give these guys an inch. In overcorrecting, it created a maudlin mess of unfulfilled promise.

That is as far as the season's connected plotline goes. Fortunately, most of the episodes are gems, directed with a sense of fun almost unseen in the revival series’ longstanding gloom. The Doctor has turned into a killer, maybe for good. We are promised that his tale will end in tragedy. I hold out hope that, next time the story tries to hit me where it hurts, it’ll follow through.

7/10