#Matt Smith got me fucked up honey

[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.”

[kenneth-omega]

The Forgotten Time Lord (Eleventh Doctor)

"I've never met someone quite like you, Elanor. You truly are an enigma."

"The good kind, I would hope."

"Of course. You couldn't be anything else to me."

(YEET THIS IS AN ELEVENTH DOCTOR FIC I STARTED, EXCITED AS FUCK TO WRITE IT)

[detroitbydark]

Title: Bad Guy

Pairing: Scumbag!Haz/Reader

Warnings: Guns. Threats of violence. Robbery.

Word Count: 1200+

A/N: this started with a prompt my dearest @Aossi gave me. Thanks Sweets for helping me when I got stuck. I think it turned out ok in the end! I’ve decided my kink is irredeemable bad guys and scumbags. Seems to be a running theme. 🤷‍♀️

The cashier didn't dwell on the entrance bell sounding until he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking. As if in slow motion, his eyes drift up from his magazine. He stops when they focus in on the matte black barrel of the gun pointed at his face.

“If you so much as think about pushing that fun little emergency button, you’re going to regret it.” A British accented voice growls out the threat. The pistol in his hand is held at arm's length while icy blue eyes survey the scene. The lower half of his face is covered in a bandana, the image of a skeletal jaw replacing his own.

The muzzle tips to the left indicating the gunman wants what’s in the till. The cashier's been taught to comply, company policy. He didn’t get paid enough to be a hero regardless. It should be a no brainer but he’s frozen in place. A thin sheen of sweat sticks to his forehead. Later, he’ll blame it on the broken air conditioner and the excessive August heat but right now he was terrified. Movement catches his eye and his head jerks slightly. There was someone else there. A cute girl. Fuck. He’d enjoyed watching the sway of her hips when she’d come in a few minutes ago. He’d admit he perved on her, trying to use the security mirrors posted in the corners to see down her shirt. It had grown boring after a few minutes though and he’d gone back to his copy of Rolling Stone. He could see her now in the security mirror, her hair tied back in a low slung braid. She was crouched down trying to make herself small. She’d been perusing the selection of sweet treats before the robbery had started and was still holding a Twix bar in her hand.

The gunman notices the flit of the other man’s eyes.

He takes quiet, even steps toward the end cap. His boots echo as he steps in front of the open isle. A wisp of dirty blonde hair falls from the hood of his sweatshirt. He’s attention is split between where his money was and the new issue.

“Come here pretty girl.” He orders lowly. The gun acts as an extension of the would-be robbers arm and he uses it to encourage her from her hiding space. When she gets close he grabs the worn backpack slung across her shoulders and drags her forward, The candy bar falls from her hand and she stumbles at the sudden jerk. The rubber soles of her converse squeak along the recently waxed floor. She rights herself as the man pulls her close. Her eyes widen as his free hand moves from her pack to her upper arm and squeezes tightly. Her eyes dart to the errant lock of hair in his eyes. It gives him a boyish quality that contrasts with the smiling skull on his bandana and the Smith & Wesson in his hand.

The cashier still hasn’t made a move and the gunman huffs pulling the girl in front of his chest. The muzzle of his gun hovers near her temple. A soft sound escapes her lips but she stays still as his free arm bands across her chest holding her tight against him.

“Mate I’m going to need you to start moving toward that register or I’m going to paint the walls with this pretty little angel’s brains.” There’s an arrogance to his voice, a smirk that can be heard even if it can’t be seen under the bandana. The girl whimpers. Her hands clutch uselessly at her captors arm across her chest.

“Please” she begs quietly, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “I don’t want to die.”

The desperate tone of her voice seems to jump start the cashier.

His movements are jerky as he fumbles with the first of two registers, popping it open and removing stacks of cash.

“Good.” The gunman praises before turning his mouth down against his hostage’s ear. “Look at that sweetheart. Look how helpful you are.”

The girl whimpers quietly, stiff in his arms as the cashier moves to the next register. The money sits in an untidy pile between the two.

“Alright, Champ, gonna need you to hurry this along. Put it in a bag.” When the cashier hesitates again the masked man twists the girls upper arm and she cries out.

“Man, I’m telling you, you're not gonna like with this baby does to her face. Tell the man how much you like your pretty face, sweetheart.”

Her voice is choked as the grip on her arm tightens again. Her jaw clenches.

“I like my pretty face” she grits out. A single tear rolls down her cheek.

The cashier doesn’t hesitate again.

“You got a bag of petty cash hiding back there? Don’t hold out on me.”

The cashier nods his head and pops a drawer and hefts a bag out. It falls with a thud into the plastic bag. The gunman really doesn’t give a shite about the rolls of change in the petty cash bag but he’s also not gonna make the poor sucker take them out either.

“That’s good man. Fine work.”

The girl stumbles as she’s urged forward but her captor holds her tight. “Alright pretty girl, pick the bag up. It’s time for us to go” Her body stiffens.

“Thieves don’t take hostages.” She says quickly, panic lacing her voice.

The masked man readjust the muzzle of the gun at her temple, pressing it hard enough to leave an indent. “This one does. So move!” He growls.

The girl takes the bag in both hands and the gunman starts backing the pair toward the door.

“Alright buddy, last thing. If you call the cops, if I hear sirens she’s fucking dead and that’s gonna be on your head.”

The cashier doesn’t move until the gun is trained on him again. The gunman sighs irritably. “Use your words motherfucker. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah...uh yeah. No cops.” He holds his hands up.

There’s only two cars in the lot and the girl is shoved into an old beat up Honda. The gunman slips in behind her and buckles in. The car exits the lot like nothing ever happened.

An hour later and the Honda has been swapped for beat up old Ford truck. The radio doesn’t work but the air conditioning blows cold. It’s acceptable. The girls backpack is discarded on the floor, unzipped and laden with junk food and sweets. The gun sits between them on the bench seat.

“You’re awfully quiet” he questions.

“My arm fucking hurts” she grumbles quietly rubbing her left arm as if to emphasize the fact. The bandana has long been tucked away and she can see his lips twist into a grimace.

“Sorry about that. Didn't mean to hurt you.”

Silence stretches for miles. The highway is straight and barren but the border is closer than it was a day ago. He hears the squeak of ancient springs and than she is slipping into his lap, straddling him in cutoff shorts and a tank top. The proverbial Bonnie to his Clyde.

“Not so rough next time, Harrison.” Her voice is as sweet as American Honey.

Smiling he takes one hand off the wheel and cups her cheek. She leans into his touch and he tries to ignore the heat radiating from between her thighs. He does his best to split his attention between her and the road. It becomes harder when she begins kissing along his jaw.

“I know Pretty Girl.” He grabs her chin and tips her mouth to his. “I said I was sorry” he presses a quick kiss to her lips “you did great though. Shoulda been an actress.”

Tags: @hazshauntedbelle @hoforhaz

[melodypond-thewomanwhomarriedme]

Chapters: 13/28 Fandom: Doctor Who RPF Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alex Kingston/Matt Smith Characters: Alex Kingston, Matt Smith Additional Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Established Relationship, How they fell in love and got married, how matt fucked up, and how he wins her back, sorta very angsty, very very long fic, if you’re reading for the plot then you might have to wait a little, because people (cassie) demands happy before the sad, so the second to eighth chapters are entirely pointless and plotless, except for some really kinky smut, if you’re into that sort of thing, we’re talking handcuffs, dom Matt, Phone Sex, domme alex, Dirty Talk, Roleplay, alex in a short leather dress and red lace lingerie because that’s a very blessed visual, and then there’s classic, against the hotel door smut, loads of hair pulling because my friends are pervs, And Of Course - Freeform, the traditional making love, but once we get to chapter nine, angst fest guaranteed, you bet i’m gonna sell the hell out of this story, leT THE ANGST FEST BEGIN Summary:

“I can’t hear him say it. He’s still - he’s my husband, Nic, and just because he’s done something like this doesn’t mean I don’t love him anymore. But I just - I can’t hear him say that he’s fallen out of love with me.”

Her voice cracks and a tear escapes her eye but she wipes it away hastily with the back of her hand, turning and burying her face into a cushion.

“Oh honey,” Nicola says sympathetically, “What are you going to do?”

Alex swallows, and closes her eyes.

“I have to leave. Before he does.”

Chapter Summary:

Maybe the tension and erotic energy from filming something close to a love scene with one of the most beautiful women in the world had caused the problem in his pants. The way he’d looked at her that night hadn’t been loving or comforting in the slightest; it’d been driven by fury and disbelief and lust - maybe for someone else

[blushingforbts]

101 songs i will never get bored of

I love music so much and have been contemplating posting a list of songs I love because I didn’t think people cared lol. so thank you to @papillonpepsi for the request :) let me know if you like this playlist or if you love any of these songs like I do :) (ALSO THIS PLAYLIST IS NON-INCLUDING BTS! I love them but everyone knows their music so I wanted to try and find songs people might not know) enjoy cuties!

Okay - Chase Atlantic

Location - Khalid

Right Here - Chase Atlantic

Sober - G-Eazy ft Charlie Puth

Girls Like U - Blackbear

Good Together - Shy Martin (all of her music is such fire and she’s so underrated oml)

Honey - Khelani

Him & I - G-Eazy ft Halsey

Can I Be Him - James Arthur

Ex - Ty Dolla $ign

Fell It Still - Portugal The Man

Do U Dirty - Khelani

Wolves - Selena Gomez ft Marshmello

Wait a Minute! - Willow Smith

Hurts Good - R5 (I am a extreme R5 stan so plz love this song I beg of you)

Touch It - Ariana Grande

All Around The World - Mura Masa ft Desiigner

Reforget - Lauv

PDA - Scott Helman (he is a Canadian artist and my favourite artist *other than BTS he is my absolute fav musician)

I Want Crazy - Hunter Hayes

Psycho - Russ

TH2C - Krewella

Roses - Shawn Mendes

Catch & Release Remix - Matt Simons

Sexual - NEIKED

Kings & Queens - Somo

Personal - The Vamps ft Maggie Lindemann

Into It - Chase Atlantic

No Limit Remix - G Eazy

Tell Me Why - Cody Simpson

Champagne - Jai Waetford

Got Me Good - Cody Simpson

Don’t Cry Your Heart Out - Cody Simpson

Happier - Ed Sheeran

Teacher - PRETTYMUCH

Nowhere Fast - Miles Wesley ft MKY

Eyes Closed - In Real Life

At My Best - Machine Gun Kelly ft Hailee Steinfeld

Staying Up - The Vamps ft Matoma

Bad Things - Machine Gun Kelly ft Camila Cabello

Hurt Like We Did - FO&O (everytime I listen to this song I cry cause it’s fucking beautiful as fuck)

Praying - Kesha

Shades On - The Vamps

Drunk Together - Jai Waetford ft Allday

Go Flex - Post Malone

Trust - Miles Wesley ft HNNBL

Not Going Home - DVBBS

Sweet Creature - Harry Styles

Passionfruit - Drake

Thumbs - Sabrina Carpenter

All Time Low - Jon Bellion

Volcano- The Vamps ft Silentó

Selfish - PnB Rock

Imma Be Cool - Cody Simpson ft Asher Roth

Marylin - G-Eazy ft Dominique LeJeune

Lights Out - Virgina To Vegas

Paint - SOL

Cheater - The Vamps (this song makes me fucking die it’s so savage)

Budapest - George Ezra

Rest Your Love - The Vamps

Waiting Outside The Lines - Grayson Chance

Don’t Leave - Snakehips ft MØ

Teenage Desperate - The Janoskians

No Sense - Justin Bieber ft Travis Scott

Try Hard - 5 Seconds Of Summer

Let Me Love You - Ariana Grande ft Lil Wayne

Stuck In The Moment - Justin Bieber

Does It Feel - Charlie Puth

DNA - Lia Marie Johnson

Send My Love - Jasmine Thompson

Who Doesn’t Love Love - FO&O

Timmy Turner - Desiigner

Do You Mind - DJ Khaled

Mark My Words - Justin Bieber

Your Love - Nicki Minaj

Nobody But Me - Michael Bublè

Suffer - Charlie Puth (the remix is🔥)

Gone - Bebe Rexha

Something New - Zendaya ft Chris Brown

Faded - Alan Walker

F U Till I F U - Call Me Karizma ft Cass

Once In A While - Timeflies

Kiss The Sky (Acoustic) - The Knocks ft Wyclef Jean

I Found - Amber Run

Objects In The Mirror - Chris Miles ft Childish Major

Back To Me - Daya

Company - Justin Bieber

Memo - Years & Years

Living Not Dreaming - Jai Waetford

Bungalow - Scott Helman (this is my absolute favourite song in the entire world and has been since it came out just FYI)

Give It Up - Nathan Sykes ft G-Eazy

War Paint - Stalking Gia

New York - Milk & Bone (the story behind this song fucks me up omg ask me if you want to know it)

Coconut Water - Milk & Bone

Bated Breath - Tinashe

I Like Me Better - Lauv

Up - Justin Bieber

[wannabanauthor]

Seven Shades of Shit Book Review with Caitlyn Lynch: Chapter 6 Part 1

Hello everybody, and once again I’m reviewing Cassandra Dee’s Seven Brothers of Sin.  It’s a horrible book so far, and I expect Chapter 6 to answer the question “Can this get any worse?”

Don’t forget to check out the lovely @caitlynlynch review as well!  She is my partner in suffering at the moment.  Her review will be linked here!

Here is the link to the masterpost.

Now onto the horror show…wait, I need some chocolate pie before I attempt to read this garbage.

This chapter is from Macy’s POV, and apparently she needs to recap everything.

I’m going to caption this as “Last Time on Seven Brothers of Sin…”

They’re probably drugging you, Macy.  You should stay away from them.  They’re weird as fuck.

This is a classic example of Plot Convenience, and it’s asking the readers for an unusually high Suspension of Disbelief threshold.

I’ve read taboo/pseudo-incest erotica that didn’t sound this creepy.  You think I might be exaggerating, but I’m not.  This author’s writing really is that bad.

I’d like to remind you of Caitlyn’s first chapter review where she mentions the possible child molestation that took place when the Morgan’s brothers played doctor with Macy 10 years ago when she was 8 years old.

I’d like to also reiterate that the taboo erotica I’ve read never ever mentions a sexual or romantic relationship/interest between the man and the woman before she was of legal age. Think about that for a moment. Erotica centering on step-family members fucking each other has better morals then a non-taboo erotic book.  How’s that for a comparison?

Unless you’re actually a diagnosed sex-addict, you are not addicted to your vibrator.  A lot of teenage girls masturbate, look at porn, and read romance novels.  However, that should not be mentioned or referred to in this book since she was underage at the time it happened.  If anything, the author could have focused on her playing with herself and everything when she was at college.

Bitch, Smith just touched you down there.  You have six guys panting over you, and I guarantee you that men do not care about “how much flesh” is down there.  They just want to fuck you.  If that means they got to spread their fingers apart a little wider to pave the way, they don’t give a fuck.  Pussy is pussy.

When did Macy make out with them?  I don’t remember any kissing.  You can’t be a slut without having sex.  If you’re using a vibrator internally, then your hymen is not intact.  One time I wrote a virgin character, and in order for her have a hymen, I made sure to mention that she didn’t finger herself or use tampons.  But I’m just extra like that.

And when was Matt’s tongue on you?  Continuity errors or I was just that drunk?

People have hang ups over food?  No shit, Sherlock.  Have you seen how the media pushes fatphobia to the point where parents will starve their growing kids just so they can be thin?  Vegans care about animal rights and the negative effects of eating meat on the environment.  Noble goal when they aren’t being classist, racist, fatphobic, and a whole bunch of other shit.  Other people have dietary restrictions.  Some just want to live a healthy lifestyle, and others have eating disorders.  Fuck you for shitting on anyone’s diet and being dismissive about the real reasons behind it.

I’m sitting here trying to collect my thoughts to respond to this false rhetoric calmly, but fuck that. I give zero fucks anymore.

Macy, you’re not dumb or insignificant for taking pleasure in small things.  You are dumb for a whole other list of reasons that I don’t care to get into right now.  Feminists want equality, especially for women who like to do traditional “feminine” things. They want it to be a choice, not a requirement.

Macy, I’m going to stop you right there at “big careers”.  Even my sorority sisters who are working for TV channels, our alma mater, famous companies, and or in government don’t have big and glamourous careers yet.  Only the older ones who graduated a decade ago come close to that.  If it makes you feel better, I don’t you being a tax expert, lawyer, or grad student. Your stupidity would cause someone to be audited, thrown in jail, pay a huge fine, or take up a valuable spot in a graduate program.

White privilege is calling your parents by their first name and not getting knocked the fuck out.

While I could go on a rant about her white privilege, I could also use this time to point out how utterly stupid she is.  Does she think that everyone working a cubicle job wants to be there?  No, a lot of them have bills to pay, so they do it anyway.  A lot of them are also smart and work on their passion in their free time so that they can build up enough experience to eventually transition into doing their passion as a full-time job.

But then again, white privilege plays into this.  It doesn’t even occur to her that she can do both.  Every person of color is taught from birth that they need to have a side hustle for extra money or as a backup plan.  I am one of the rare fortunate ones that has a day job that I love, and I get to be an independent author in my spare time.  I am living proof that you can do both.  My black coworkers at my current and former job all have businesses or side hustles.  One of my former coworkers has a full-time job and ten companies that she runs.

Of course, Macy is too stupid to figure this out because she thinks she deserves to have everything fall into her lap at her convenience while the rest of us work our asses off so that we can survive and do what we love.

You’re going to be a fucking awful chef and cookbook author if that’s the case.  Creating recipes requires equations, problem solving, presentations, and effective communication.  And the kitchens in America are notorious for the verbal abuse that the cooking staff face.  Even when I took a cooking class, the professor was blunt but honest.  You don’t have the buoys to work in a kitchen.  It’s not all fairy dust and daydreams.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! She wants to self-publish, but she can’t problem solve or make presentations?  Oh man, that is a disaster waiting to happen. Self-publishing is not easy. Anyone can write a book and publish it, but in order to be successful you have to research and study your ass off to actually sell your books.  If they don’t sell, you have to analyze the situation and problem solve for a solution.

Keep this dumb bitch away from the kitchen.  The following information took me five seconds to find:

Don’t use runny cheese on pizza, you fuckwit!

Is the virgin slut slut-shaming other women?  Who would want the perfect resume?  Who would want to drink and sleep around?  She must be new here because that’s exactly what people tend to do to relieve stress.

You just made soggy pizza, you dipshit, so your comparison is correct.  You’re not going to know what you’re doing, and you’re going to fuck it all up.

While her mom is right about the education and job part, she is also a humongous snobby privileged white bitch who just insulted every single cook and chef in existence.  Well, if the bitch hates people who cook so much, she should just stop eating and save them the time.

Head, meet desk, please.  Repeatedly.

Oh honey, you think you’ll start out at a high-class restaurant?  You can’t do math, problem solve, or take criticism.  All it takes is for one uppity rich white woman to complain about your food, and you’ll be fired for your incompetency.  Well, after you finish crying your eyes out in front of everyone.

Macy, everyone knows what rushing is.  I’ve been on the sorority side of it, and trust me, it’s a learning experience. You learn how to conduct two-way interviews, evaluate candidates, sell people an experience, and you end up networking with some of the women.  If your dream is to be a celebrity chef, joining a sorority is the way to go. Once you pay your dues, you get instant access to thousands of women in every industry imaginable.  You get an entire network of women willing to help you just because you joined an organization.  Make fun all you want, but rushing is essentially convincing hundreds of young women to spend thousands of dollars per semester on an experience that has lifelong benefits.  Sounds like the thing you need to do what you want to do.

I’m with Martha on this one.

You are as dumb as people think.  You can go to culinary school after you graduate from college and get a job.  Trade schools usually have a few class you can take during outside of 9-5.

You really are fucking clueless if you want a baby at eighteen even though you have no desire to go get a degree or get a monotonous job that pays the bills.

And where did this desire for a baby come from?  You know what’s even harder than a college education and a boring job?  A baby!

Sorry to burst your bubble, but breastfeeding can be very painful and frustrating.  It’s one of those things they don’t usually tell women until after they’ve given birth.  Or at least that’s what they do in the States.  If you don’t believe me, go look at Chrissy Tiegen’s tweet after she gave birth when she said “they didn’t tell me that I’d be going home in a diaper too”.

Breastfeeding can be so difficult that lactation consultants exist.  Sometimes the babies just don’t latch or just don’t want a nipple. My friend had trouble breastfeeding her first kid, but her second kid was a natural with breastfeeding.  Then there’s the leaking milk, pumping milk, not producing enough milk.  You need to study all this stuff before you have a kid.

Don’t kid yourself. You’re not smart enough to become a CEO.

This is exactly why you shouldn’t have a fucking baby!  Even Domo Wilson waited until she was financially stable to get inseminated, and she had been wanting a child since she was a kid herself.  She talked herself out of intentionally becoming a teen mom because she wanted to wait until she could actually provide for the child. She’s a lesbian too, so she had to pay some serious money for the entire insemination process.

You don’t know jack shit about any of those things, so you’re already off to a bad start.

(Tumblr is refusing to post all the photos, so this is a two-parter)

[fragrantae]

Polaroids

A/N: Fluff? Angst? No smut? New era, new me ~ jk (lol) here’s a new fic because i am inspired <3

please like, comment/dm/reblog your opinions and feedback for this story! it would mean so much to me :))

pairing: jungkookxreader

word count: 5.6

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

‘Ding! Ding!’ the last two rings of the café’s bell signaled the end of your shift – the last one before the one-week break your boss had promised.

“Well, that’s it for today!” the cashier chirped as she whipped her cap off and flew out the door, with no regards about anything still unorganised in the store.

Another week of your mediocre life had successfully passed by and you honestly could not be more prepared to do absolutely nothing. 

Dragging yourself towards the employee’s coat-hooks, you nearly slipped on a spill of honey when two strong arms gripped your elbows from behind. Knowing you only had one male co-worker, your shrugged it off with a quick, “Thanks, Matt.”

Oh, how mistaken were you. “Matt?” The unfamiliar voice called, causing you to spin your head around ridiculously fast to catch a glimpse of the stranger’s face, but instead being unable to catch yourself from slipping on the honey again. Thankfully, just as he did a few seconds ago, you were captured and saved in his hold. You inhaled a gasp, catching a whiff of his light cologne whilst having your gaze locked on his firm chest, afraid to bring it up to his face. Immediately you tried to regain your composure, managing yourself to straighten your uniform.

“Sorry- thanks- thank you- aaah- bye,” you squeaked out shyly, and a little too rapidly for you to enunciate the words correctly. The tall figure gave you a puzzled look. Your eyes locked with his for a good second or two before you turned on your heel to pack up. You could feel his gaze burn through your back, sending tingles up your neck. Before you reached the corner, you could hear a low, faint chuckle from him. You tried not to think much of it.

The strings of your apron felt heavier than they usually were as you slung it onto a hook. Pulling your cap off passively, you took a deep breath, continuing to pull it down only halfway to cover your face and vision. You let out an exhausted sigh. Thoughts flooded your head to no extent of all the possible debts and additional work hours you’d need to complete for the extra cash. The goal was in reach; your motivation, however, was not.

A nudge to your side brought you out of your trance: it was no surprise when you fully took the cap off did you find your co-worker, Kate, beaming with her pearly-white smile. From the look on her face you could already tell what she saw and what she wanted to know. “I saw the way you looked at hot-stuff just now,” she smirked, a suggestive look on her face.

“You really should make sure the honey actually gets in the tea when you squeeze it out,” you smiled lightheartedly, amused by her interest, but not enough to play it through, “wasn’t it you who said we shouldn’t be wasting any resources?”

Kate simply rolled her eyes at your response, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don’t try to get out of this one – who was the cutie you talked to? He seems new around these parts.”

Was he really that attractive? All you could remember were his deep, chocolate irises which you were somehow entranced by – something that hadn’t happened to you for a long time. “I’ve never seen him either. I didn’t even catch his name,” you shrugged.

“Damn it, Y/n!” She grumbled in annoyance, before heading away from your stance to join the real Matt. It sounded as if she was more interested on getting the stranger for herself rather hooking you two up. Not that you cared, but the thought of someone caring would’ve been nice.

Once you’d gathered all the little knick-knacks you couldn’t leave without (not forgetting to smuggle a few pastries and sachets in your sling bag) you exited the cozy café, stepping into the frigid autumnal weather. Kids rode their bikes and skates around the park, filling the area with cheerful laughter. The elderly fed the ducks, a group of mothers chatted as they supervised their kids whilst their baby prams were all bunched together – as though they were having a ritual of some sort –, and around this time, other people were clocking out of their workplaces, catching the next bus ride or shimmying into their vehicles to reach the comforts of their homes as soon as possible. Everyone seemed to have fallen into this path and structure of life; the young enjoy their youth, the elderly basked in their old ages, and everyone else managed to fit in one way or another. Hopefully you wouldn’t.

Since graduating university, you decided to take upon a more relaxed and enjoyable lifestyle, rather than the hustling life of businesswoman. As a part-time journalist and photographer, you were able to pursue your hobbies whilst still earning some cash. It wasn’t much to afford a grand mansion of any sort, but a cute little apartment home in New York with a cityscape was more than enough for your tastes. Still, the additional bit where you worked as a barista helped pay off any extra expenses or perhaps get you that new lens you saw in a magazine. You were always told that you should have just stuck to finance, engineering, or medication, but you felt as though there was more to your life than numbers and screwdrivers. The ‘American dream’ was never really yours, but all that mattered was that you enjoyed life as it was.

The weekend was calling you. You could already smell the scent of freshly brewed chamomile tea and sweet scones. You’d sit by your windowsill with a novel in hand and chill for once. Stepping into your single-floor apartment, a strong waft of receipts and cash greeted you, and you were reminded of how your bills were piling up and you still had a few unpaid debts to deal with. To anyone else, they might’ve considered working overtime at four different jobs to pay it off, yet to you, there was no actual reason to rush. Sighing in exhaustion, you slipped off your flats and lightly kicked them to a corner, before plopping face-first onto your bed. Rolling over, a grunt roared in your throat, “Fuck.”

Getting off your mattress the next day, the bedsheets followed. The white fabric was stained with several patches of your foundation and mascara; a usual result of the whole ‘plopping onto bed’ part of your evening. Yet you still insisted in using the blank covers as they were an aesthetic touch to your little home. The sound of the kettle hissing – do people still use kettles? – caught your attention.

For the past three years, everything seemed to go about like clockwork, no matter how you tried to spice things up. Movies with friends became the norm. Diversity in clients and models still brought no shock to you with each passing face. Relationships came and went like the sheets on a calendar. Maybe you were missing something. Or perhaps … someone. Ridiculous, you thought, shaking your head. You had everything you desired and a little more; at least that’s what you believed. You scrolled through a news feed on your little pink iPhone nonchalantly, seeing the general posts about upcoming concerts, political brouhaha and maybe food porn here and there; nothing out of the average. ‘Come on Y/n, you’ve got a whole week to yourself… make the most of it,’ the voice in your head urged. But what was there to do in your little quiet humble abode, situated in a frenzied city?

With no luck, three precious days had passed by without much notice. The autumn leaves outside your window created a sheen, tangerine screen against the glass – something it did every. single. year. At that moment, Asleep by The Smiths played on full blast throughout your apartment, practically quaking the lifeless soul within you (or maybe dimming it further). The plush surface of your comforters and its warmth compensated for the lack of attention and affection you felt. You didn’t think it was possible but all the free-time you had on your hands made your life more noticeably bland than it did before. You even found the time to count all the beans in your coffee jar. Sighing in exasperation became a casualty for you.

‘As time passes by, we only mess it up even more,’ you suddenly heard, the ringtone cutting off The Smiths. You weren’t one to bother with specific ringtones for specific people – therefore this could have been anyone. Today did not feel like a day to answer calls. Neither did yesterday, or the day before that, or any other day in the past month. Unanswered calls piled atop each other, and would have reached the eighth floor if an iPhone could represent every call. For some reason, you couldn’t care less about the urgency in everyday-life matters anymore.

“Ugh!” rolling over, you snatched the little box, sliding a finger to reject the call. Feisty: it was. Erratic vibrating erupted again, but this time the caller’s end was a little luckier. You let out an irritated sigh. Whatever, let’s get this over with. With your fakest tone, you picked it up, “Hello, this is the Jones’s residence, how may I assist you?” You pulled off the lie with little to no effort. It wasn’t anything new from you.

“Um, I thought this was Y/n’s number?”

You recognised the voice. It was sweet old Mrs Jeon, one of the frequent customers who visited your shop. She was as kind as a saint, sometimes even bringing cookies for you despite you telling her that you got some for free at times anyway. “Oh, it’s you Mrs Jeon,” you laughed, a little embarrassed that you were caught, “is there anything you need help with? The café’s closed for the week.”

“I’m aware of that sweetie; how are you lately?”

Small talk was never really your thing. It was a waste of time in your opinion. But you couldn’t just shut her out – you were too polite to do that. “Life’s been all peaches and sunshine lately. I was thinking about heading to a festival in town this fri-“

“So sorry to cut this call short sweetie, but I’m in a little rush and I was hoping you could do me a favour.” Her voice was hurried. She must’ve been late for an event of some sort. “You see, I need to be at a friend’s event by two today, and I haven’t the time to find someone to look after my son. You have a little sister, right? You should know the basics of this – do you think you could help out?”

Babysitting? That was new. Based on your lackadaisical way of life, you realised you had never been one to feel responsible for anything. A child of your own was nowhere in mind; watching another’s shouldn’t be too bad ‘tho, right? “Sure, I’d love to be of help! Is there anything specific I need to know about the child, maybe his age or diet-“

You were cut off was again by her voice in through the call, the sounds of things falling and her heaving breaths followed. “Nothing out of the ordinary, dear. Just make sure he doesn’t get into trouble and leave the house.” And with that, the phone call hung up.

You sighed, unsure of what to prepare for the child. Games? Toys? Snacks? At the end you came to the conclusion that the child should just suck it up and play with his own toys. You weren’t obligated to be a little extra.

You reached the address at once, arriving in a seemingly average and suburban neighborhood home near the outskirts, taking a brief glance behind you but alas the streets were empty yet you assured yourself that whatever lay beyond the door was probably just a fierce midget. Just as you were about to press the doorbell, a note caught your attention:

‘Dear Y/n,

Sorry for the unexpected call, but I won’t be home until tomorrow and I am in need of someone to take care of my sweet little Kookie while I’m gone. I’ve left some money on the counter if you need any; $200 is for you. It should be enough for your troubles.

Thank you so much, dear.

Mrs Jeon.’

… I did not sign up for this shit. How absurd was this? The responsibility of a child dropped upon your shoulders in a matter of seconds! ‘Kookie’ – who names their child after a snack? The overwhelming weight of this request was reminding you of all the other things in your life that you could and should be doing. At least my debts are taken care of…

“That’s true. Get a grip, Y/n. You’ve done this before. This- this is just more official. And paid…” The self-encouragement came out easier than anticipated.

As you opened the door, a familiar scent lingered, but you couldn’t put a finger on what it was. No pictures hung on the walls, the carpet a simple dark grey, and the overall-white interior made the dwelling seem ghastly to it’s touch. No form of life could be sensed. If you didn’t know any better, no one seemed at home, and an easy thought would have been the child had run away. Something you would do too. Not a speck of dust in sight and not a single item out of place.

The orderly structure of everything reminded you of your own parents and you old home, and it disgusted you greatly. You blamed half of your depressive outlook of life on them. Verbal and emotional abuse were no strangers to your household, neither were the tears or neglect. Since you left, you never dared to visit them, or you sister. It was cowardly of you to ditch her with the fiends, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look into their eyes for another second.

“You are a horrid excuse of a child! Shit, shit, shitty little twat! I should’ve known better than to raise a worthless whore!”

His voice rang through the hallways, awakening the entire neighborhood, but alas, his stance was not ruptured for everyone who knew him feared him. Some said he had been arrested for several murders several times in the past. How he got out? Who knows. Your figure trembled beneath his towering build, and the sharp edges of the broken bottle was no help in acquiescing the rate of your breaths. You winced as his shoes inched closer towards you, the slight contact at you calves sending a jolt of alert through your system.

Heels clicked against the floor as she neared the two of you, “Baby, maybe you should be a little easy on our princess, don’t you think. I’m sure she’ll learn from her mistakes.” The devil purred into his ear, trailing her lips on his stubby jaw.

“To heck she’ll learn to understand anything! Photography and arts? Get a real life! I’m not paying for you to study lens focusing and pretty flowers!”

The room began to expand, its walls growing in distance from one another. You felt so helpless and small on the floor.

From what you could recall, that was the last of your encounters. Nothing saved you from their torment. Nobody but yourself.

The muffled movements from a room upstairs indicated that someone else was in the house; you took it as a sign the child slept in.

Propped nicely on a couch, you reviewed one of your latest projects. The shots were of a woman dancing the flamenco in a room tainted with ebony on a marble floor. The ruffles of the woman’s red dress were the same as a rippling ocean before a storm. The rose between her lips still clutched onto its thorns, as it pierced into her bite and caused little trickles of blood to seep out. You were hesitant with the concept, initially, yet through her explanation of her metaphorical outlook on the idea you became eased with the subject. The images were clear and dynamic, and you were paid a great deal for the photos.

“Great pictures you got there,” a sudden gush of air swept along your cheek, the words rang into your ear. It wasn’t the voice of child.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The man was a little taken aback by your reaction. From where you stood, you studied him. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his jaw tensing a bit. Giving him a quick once-over, you realised he was very fit and much, much taller than you (in other words, he had the physical advantage if you two were to battle). After a few more seconds of silence, the tension subsided on its own, and he took it as a cue to speak, “I live here.”

“Ha! As if. I’m supposed to be looking after a child. What did you do to him?” The interrogation heightened, although it was mostly on your part, for he was not phased even the slightest bit. It was until one side of his mouth pulled up to be a lopsided smile, the other followed, and soon after the stranger was laughing his guts out on the floor. You whipped out your phone hastily to snap a picture of him, sending it straight to Mrs Jeon with the caption, ‘I’m calling the cops.’

The room grew quieter as he got up, laughter dying out. An amused glint played in his eyes, his arms crossed and s smirk splayed on his lips. He was waiting, just as you were.

Your phone finally buzzed, signaling her reply. ‘Did he cause any trouble? Did he try to sneak out?’

‘No. And no. Do you know him?’

The tone of her text was not surprised at all, and you got the disturbing feeling that this was the ‘child’ you were assigned. ‘That’s Kookie. Hope he’s not being a handful.’

No. Fucking. Way. “You’re Kookie?”

‘Kookie’ took a step closer, evidently greater than you in height, “Call me Jungkook.” His hair was swiped off his forehead, letting you get a full view of his face. His eyes gleamed in the low-lit room. If you weren’t so perplexed you might’ve mistaken him as a part-time model (the looks definitely wouldn’t deny). He took a step towards you. On their own accord, your foot stepped back. And another, and another, until the back of your knees hit the side of the couch and had you falling back. Looking straight ahead of you, your eyes locked with his as he walked to the front of the couch to sit on the arm closer to your head. His gaze was mellow with hooded eyelids, and whatever shock you felt before was replaced a surge of nervousness and curiosity.

You looked up to see his bore into yours. He leaned passively, his hands sliding from beneath the lobes of your ears until his fingertips traced your jawline. His face moved closer to your, although he was upside-down from your point of view. He brought his lips to the skin between your collarbone and neck, trailing light nips up your jawline to your chin. The fingers which cupped the sides of your face left to move to the sides of your shoulders, rubbing the sides of your arms reaching to your hands and interlocking your fingers. He gently caught your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging at the swollen petal. The sparks buzzing around you were frantic. His touch against your skin was feathery, yet electricity flowed through your veins because of it. Because of him.

Alas, the ringing of a grandfather clock from another room broke the silence. He gave you a final peck, before pulling himself off. You felt his teeth against your lip, the sparks style exhilarating as his body completely left yours.

You then realised how inappropriate what just happened was. Kissing the owner’s child? While you were doing a favour? You were lucky enough to be getting paid for this, but was that part of the job?

“Oh my god; I’m so sorry that happened. What was I thinking?” The words stumbled out of you as you pushed yourself off the couch to face him.

Jungkook did nothing but laugh, his eyes closed and his mouth with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen. You haven’t seen something so – adorable, beautiful, in such a long time, you practically forgot its existence. This wasn’t anything sadistic (as you would normally encounter) or bitterly humorous or sarcastic – he was genuinely amused with your reaction. “It’s okay,” his laughter faded, yet the smile still spread on his face, “that was exactly what I thought when we first met.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, “We’ve met? I- I don’t remember you…”

His smile suddenly faltered, his eyebrows creased the tiniest bit to how a hint of concern, “We met at the coffee shop, remember? I caught you as you fell.” You closed your eyes to search for the memory, any way to reminisce the scene. And as if a wave washed over you, images played of you slipping twice into the arms of a muscular stranger. And his eyes: dark and capturing. He took your hand in his, “I felt sparks that day, and I just knew we’d meet again – didn’t you?”

The look in his eyes pled you to say you did, but did you? “Um, well, you’re- uh- really hot.” Your answer didn’t please him, and seemed to upset him a little further. “I’m really sorry this wasn’t how you thought it would work.” Guilty. You could recall clearly how flustered and somewhat excited you were when it happened that day. The feeling wasn’t all-too consuming, but it was there.

You tried to turn away and get a glass of water, anything to reduce the tension, but a hand around your wrist halted you in your tracks. His touch was fire, and you wanted more of it. But you couldn’t get yourself to believe it. So many people you’ve loved and devoted a good portion of your emotions to became greedy and manipulated your thoughts to make you like you were in the wrong. It’s probably been a year since your last relationship, and it ended more for mental stability reasons than emotional equilibrium.

“Let me take you out.”

The offer was too inviting to reject, but for those few seconds, you held your stance, silent and anticipating.

“I believe that people come and go, and I also believe that fate does crazy things to people for both good and bad,” Woah, things got personal there, “but believe me when I say that I felt something promising in that café that day. I was honestly just checking behind the counter for some extra sugar ‘cause the cashier just sashayed out of the store before I could ask. I didn’t even see you until you slipped and I just- felt a force pulling me to save you. Ah, you probably think I’m mad for saying these things, but when I clutched onto you, it just felt so right, like two puzzle pieces or something. I felt dumbfounded that I’d be drawn to these things, but I had the feeling that we’d meet again.” He paused, looked down to his feet as though thinking he was coming off as lunatic or insane, but smiled to himself with a hint of hope. “Whether or not we’ll be together forever, at least let me show you a great time.”

In your head, his words played out the scene, and for some reason, everything seemed to fall into place: the cashier, the honey, you and him. As if fate was playing its course. Taking a deep breath, and your eyes closed. It was time to believe in goodness, again.

Quarter-to-three now. The two of you ambled about the carnival, Jungkook having bought you candy floss despite you insisting him that you brought some money and could have bought it yourself. He waved you off, telling you he’s just ‘that kind of guy’. Typical. Still, he was good company, and the more you got to know him the more you’d ask yourself, ‘Where has he been all my life?’.

“- so, I don’t get it. You’re even older than me for god’s sake. Why does she still call you ‘Kookie’? It’s really misleading to address someone as Kookie and expect a twenty-five-year-old rather than six-year-old.”

Jungkook only pinched a bit of the floss off and fluffed over your nose, making you scrunch it like a child as it tickled you, before he brought it to your lips for you to taste. His fingers lingered on your lips half a second longer than necessary, but you felt as though he was letting you have a second chance at youth. It was enthralling. He gave out a light chuckle, “She’s been calling me that since I was five. I’ve been telling her to quit it when I was eight, when I was fifteen, seventeen, even twenty-one, but I guess the name just stuck to her. And it keeps me feeling young and humble.”

The quiet rustling of his camera bag was covered by the laughter and cheers from the people around you: couples, children, stallholders, and of the sort. You nipped at the last bit of the plush, pink sweetness, before tossing the stick in a bin. “How come I’ve never seen you in this neighbourhood?”

“I’m here for a week to visit my mom. Then I’m flying out to Seoul again.”

“South Korea?”

“Yeah.” Fate was really testing the waters. Just when spontaneity struck you and you grasped it so eagerly, you’d lose it all by the end of the week. Jungkook noticed your unease, but knew exactly its cause. “You have nothing to worry about, ‘tho. Now that I’ve found you, I’ll have more of a reason to come back more often.”

You felt numb. As you always did. Maybe it was foolish of you to think things were falling into place so suddenly. Maybe it was just the world picking its days to be cruel. Whatever it was, you didn’t like it one bit. Pulling you closer from the side, into the warmth of his chest, Jungkook rested his chin at the top of your hair, radiating comfort to your bitter self. “What hope should I keep when the odds don’t seem to be in our favour?” The thought of him leaving didn’t sit with you well. In the span of an hour or so, it felt like you’ve known each other for years. You couldn’t fathom the thought of him not being with you.

“We’ll make the most of what we can. Things will work out.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because that’s how I found you.” Before you could respond, his soft lips met yours. You could taste the sugar on his tongue. His cinnamon scent filled your nostrils, pulling you closer to him if that was even possible. He pulled away, out of breath and mesmerised, “Have I told your how beautiful I think you are?” He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, “Every time I mention anything remotely elating or adorable, your voice raises a pitch and a sparkle plays in your eyes as you giggle to yourself. I notice you cover your mouth when you laugh – why? It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

You couldn’t stop the rosy tint spreading on your cheeks. Strrrp. Jungkook ripped open the velcro cover of his bag to pull out a polaroid camera. It looked nothing like your DSLR, and you knew for sure the image quality was not guaranteed perfection. You were pulled tightly into a hug when he snapped a pic of the two of you. This was very unusual for you. Normally you’d have set up an entire set for models to pose in, the lighting would be artificial and set to perfection, and your camera would be in all the right angles. But not with Jungkook. He just took the picture.

The film rolled out from the top. As the picture appeared, you observed how natural it looked. Your cheek was pressed into his chest and your hair curled by your face. Only Jungkook’s mouth could be seen because of the angle he took it from. The smile on his face was so heart-melting, and assured you that he was loving the moment just as much as you were. The picture itself was a little blurry, a bit under-exposed, and was overall very small. Nothing like what you’ve worked with. You realised that there was more to life than what’s in stall in the box. From a different angle, photography could be leisureful, yet still hold so much meaning. More than just an ambition.

“You can keep these.”

It was nearly eight. You were so caught up with the thrill of adrenaline from everything that happened earlier you didn’t realise he had been calling you.

“Oh, pardon. I didn’t catch that.”

He held out thirteen polaroids of the thirty-ish you took earlier. A few were of you, a few more were shots of him which you took, but most were pictures oh you and him, food, or you and him with food. “You can keep these, you know, to look back at after the week ends.”

“Ah yes, the week ends, and you leave.” Unlike earlier, however, you didn’t feel as bad at the thought of him leaving. What he gave you today was better than what anyone had given over the last twenty-three years of your life: hope. Immense, fulfilling hope. “But you won’t leave until next week, so we’ll have all the time this week to be together.”

The two of you stepped forward as it was finally your turn to get on the Ferris wheel. “I still have to spend quality time with my mother, you know.” He tried to pull off a stern look, but broke into laughter soon after.

“Sweet old Mrs Jeon.”

All the polaroids hung lazily against your wall. Call it a teenage aesthetic, but the strings and little clothespins really did add a cute touch to it. You’ve taken such a liking for the polaroids that now the strings stretched across every wall in your apartment. You’ve never taken such a sentimental liking for these overpriced sheets, but now, you wouldn’t trade them for anything.

You were tip-toeing to pin up another photo when too large hands grabbed you by the waist to lift you up, catching you by surprise. A hearty giggle strung out of you as tried to focus on hanging the pictures, but your fingers were tangled by the mere thought that the person who had you in his hold was smiling at your figure too. Setting you down, you instantly swiveled around and locked your wrists behind his neck. His hands pulled you closer by the waist, and instinctively you wrapped your legs around his waist. Your lips found his in a deep kiss, the taste you’ve longed for the past few months rushing into your mouth like sweet candy.

“Happy Valentines, babe,” Jungkook whispered, forehead pressed against your, his gaze never leaving.

You cooed back with your love-struck tone, “Happy Valentines.”

“Three years already? I don’t know how I was lucky enough to find someone like you. But I’m sure glad I did.” The smiled etching on his face reflected yours, being the two lovebirds in the room made it sickening for anyone else to be present there.

You pushed a bit of his hair off his forehead, letting you see him so fully, with nothing to hide. He was perfect in every little way, and you loved every bit of him. The puzzle pieces were falling into place.

“But, I don’t think I’ll visit New York after this break.”

You snapped your eyes open and went rigid. Wide-eyed and silent. For a split-second your heart dropped. “You- what?”

“Y/n, from the day our paths crossed, I just had the feeling that we were destined, and that with the effort and commitment, we’d be together forever. Three years later we’re standing in a room filled with memories, struggles, and pain, but so, so much love, that I wouldn’t give you up for anything. But I can’t keep waiting for months before I can get to see and feel you in my arms again.”

Tears were pricking in your eyes. You didn’t think after all this time it would end like this. You two were so in love. Why would he suddenly just feel like-

“Would you move to Seoul to live with me?

You held your breath at that. Time froze in that moment. Your heart stopped and the only thing you could hear were his light breaths as he waited for your answer. Seoul. South Korea. Nearly halfway across the world, a whole set of foreign places and foreign faces.

But what about New York? What about the life you’ve built on your own? All you’ve endeavored – with your parents? with your dreams? – all the choices you’ve made to get yourself what you wanted. Would leaving be worth it?

Jungkook’s head hung low as he suspected you were skeptical with the idea. He knew you’ve grown dearly with the city, and to rip you away from it was unquestionable. But what he didn’t expect was when your small hands cupped the sides of his face to bring his lips to yours.

“Yes.”

Because it was certain, that things made a lot more sense with him by your side, and that polaroid films were plentiful in stock wherever you were.

You pulled away from the kiss, “I love you, Jeon Jungkook.”

[victoire-bellerose]

DO THE ASKS!! ALL OF THEM— philipeisagoldengod

Philipe, dearest...this is too much. In addition, there’s no need to go on anon merely for this...it’s weird.

rose: what makes you feel beautiful? 

 The right amount of perfume, definitely. Also, I’ve always thought confidence to be the best accessory. (Not to be confused with narcissism.) 

lace: how would you describe your best friend(s)?  

 Very witty company, I love them so! We enjoy roasting each other…best friend things, y'know?

wish: what are your favorite memories?  

 When our beautiful babies were born (in spite of the pain.) Our first kiss which was very…ethereal. Also, the day my little sister was born!

heaven: describe your perfect date 

 I like visiting museums. When I finally allowed you to court me, I remember that one of our first dates was at the Louvre. It was magical~! So, yes, museums - anything artsy (and pillow forts!)

angel: what is your dream aesthetic?  

 Mindless traipsing through labyrinthine rose gardens. Hazy chases. Nymph-like graces. Curls, red wine, and strawberries~

wings: list five things you love about yourself  

1). I’m very independent and have been since youth. 2). In spite of my cold exterior, I’m quite compassionate. Kindness is very underrated these days :(. 3). I think I’m quite fair, I’m an excellent mediator. 4). I’m very classy, I maintain an enigmatic and imposing air at all times. However, I will not hesitate to fight you if you cross me. 5). I have exceptional curls - I take great pride in them. Occasionally, I’ll straighten them, but I think my curls are just so defining.

marble: what do you look for in a partner?  

 Hmmmm, sincerity. Also empathy. A fabulous sense of humour is also desired. Don’t fuck it up, Philipe.

velvet: describe your dream home  

 Where I’m currently living, I suppose. I’m quite content

pearl: what is your favourite: scent, flavour, sound, texture?  

Scent: Roses, vanilla, and citrusy scents.Flavour: Strawberries and cream or a hearty zinfandel. Sound: Children’s laughter, birdsong, a harp, and rain drops. Texture: Satin or lace. Your hair.

sunlight: list five things you find to be beautiful  

1). Lush gardens 2). The sunrise 3). Velvet curtains 4). Elderly couples basking in their love for one another on a park bench5). Candlelight

cherry: what words of advice would you give to a stranger?  

 “Never let anyone make you feel inferior! You’re a deity and the rest of us are not worthy.” - me to someone, eventually.

blush: describe your ideal future  

 Happiness, tranquility, frequent outings to old chateaus. A much anticipated wedding.

sea: what music, art and/or literature brings you peace?  

Music: Tchaikovsky and Lana. Soft things. Art: Impressionism! Monet, specifically. Your art is fabulous too, Philipe! Literature: I’ve a penchant for Victorian/Gothic literature. However, for “peace” I usually turn to Jane Austen because everyone is happy and the protagonists get married. Very wholesome. Delightful commentary.

wine: talk about something you are looking forward to  

 You expressed an interest in taking a brief trip to Italy and I’m intrigued, perhaps that. In other news, my sister is coming over today to visit! :)

honey: what do you do to relax?  

 I take baths! Add some rosewater, flower petals of your choice, and natural oils and thank me later.

silk: describe your most recent dream  

  Very bizarre. I befriended an eagle and he led me to a Mediterranean-esque grotto filled with mermaids (all with the face of Steve Buscemi.)

matte: what is something you are proud of?  

 My choices! Some good, some bad, all equally helpful in shaping me into the person I am today. In addition, I think I’ve successfully managed to remain “myself” throughout my life, if that makes sense.

gloss: list ten songs you love right now  

 Oh, jeez… 1). Cherry - Lana Del Rey (it’s a mood)2). Pretty Good Year - Tori Amos (I cried when I first heard it) 3). Dancing Queen - ABBA4). Pulling Our Weight - The Radio Dept. 5). A Thousand Miles - Vanessa Carlton (people tell me it’s a meme song and I don’t know why, it’s so good) 6). Because the Night - Patti Smith 7). Run Away with Me - Carly Rae Jepsen (this is, supposedly, another meme song. Please explain why…) 8). Sister Europe - The Psychedelic Furs 9). Sign Your Name - Terrence Trent D'Arby (Philipe, you got this stuck in my head when you serenaded me about 5,000 times -_-) 10). Old Age - Hole (Raphaël was listening to his edgy music and this was one of the bands, I explored them and like this song the best)

satin: what never fails to make you happy?  

 Tea, sweet nothings whispered in the ear, and hugs from Louis and Henriette.

opal: talk about your interests and passions  

 I write little poems sometimes and leave them around the house for my beloved to find. I also like collecting handbooks on horticulture, my oldest is from the 1700s! Recently, too, I got into photography.

kiss: what do you want from life right now?  

 Further peace, thank you.— victoire-bellerose

[melodypond-thewomanwhomarriedme]

Chapters: 24/29 Fandom: Doctor Who RPF Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alex Kingston/Matt Smith Characters: Alex Kingston, Matt Smith Additional Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Established Relationship, How they fell in love and got married, how matt fucked up, and how he wins her back, sorta very angsty, very very long fic, if you’re reading for the plot then you might have to wait a little, because people (cassie) demands happy before the sad, so the second to eighth chapters are entirely pointless and plotless, except for some really kinky smut, if you’re into that sort of thing, we’re talking handcuffs, dom Matt, Phone Sex, domme alex, Dirty Talk, Roleplay, alex in a short leather dress and red lace lingerie because that’s a very blessed visual, and then there’s classic, against the hotel door smut, loads of hair pulling because my friends are pervs, And Of Course - Freeform, the traditional making love, but once we get to chapter nine, angst fest guaranteed, you bet i’m gonna sell the hell out of this story, leT THE ANGST FEST BEGIN Summary:

“I can’t hear him say it. He’s still - he’s my husband, Nic, and just because he’s done something like this doesn’t mean I don’t love him anymore. But I just - I can’t hear him say that he’s fallen out of love with me.”

Her voice cracks and a tear escapes her eye but she wipes it away hastily with the back of her hand, turning and burying her face into a cushion.

“Oh honey,” Nicola says sympathetically, “What are you going to do?”

Alex swallows, and closes her eyes.

“I have to leave. Before he does.”

[melodypond-thewomanwhomarriedme]

Chapters: 16/28 Fandom: Doctor Who RPF Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alex Kingston/Matt Smith Characters: Alex Kingston, Matt Smith Additional Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Established Relationship, How they fell in love and got married, how matt fucked up, and how he wins her back, sorta very angsty, very very long fic, if you’re reading for the plot then you might have to wait a little, because people (cassie) demands happy before the sad, so the second to eighth chapters are entirely pointless and plotless, except for some really kinky smut, if you’re into that sort of thing, we’re talking handcuffs, dom Matt, Phone Sex, domme alex, Dirty Talk, Roleplay, alex in a short leather dress and red lace lingerie because that’s a very blessed visual, and then there’s classic, against the hotel door smut, loads of hair pulling because my friends are pervs, And Of Course - Freeform, the traditional making love, but once we get to chapter nine, angst fest guaranteed, you bet i’m gonna sell the hell out of this story, leT THE ANGST FEST BEGIN Summary:

“I can’t hear him say it. He’s still - he’s my husband, Nic, and just because he’s done something like this doesn’t mean I don’t love him anymore. But I just - I can’t hear him say that he’s fallen out of love with me.”

Her voice cracks and a tear escapes her eye but she wipes it away hastily with the back of her hand, turning and burying her face into a cushion.

“Oh honey,” Nicola says sympathetically, “What are you going to do?”

Alex swallows, and closes her eyes.

“I have to leave. Before he does.”

Chapter Summary:

The toilets are blisfully empty when she enters and she wipes the tears building at the corner of her eyes hastily, sighing and leaning her elbows on the sink. She can’t believe her agent, who was halfway around the world had managed to sound more excited and proud of her over the goddamn phone than her bloody husband had been when he was right in front of her. The thought makes a small sob rip from her throat and she shuts her eyes, covering her face with her hands - thank god for waterproof mascara. No matter how hard she tries she just can’t surpress tears anymore and she’s too worn out to stop them, so she just lets them flow freely.

[melodypond-thewomanwhomarriedme]

Chapters: 12/28 Fandom: Doctor Who RPF Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alex Kingston/Matt Smith Characters: Alex Kingston, Matt Smith Additional Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Established Relationship, How they fell in love and got married, how matt fucked up, and how he wins her back, sorta very angsty, very very long fic, if you’re reading for the plot then you might have to wait a little, because people (cassie) demands happy before the sad, so the second to eighth chapters are entirely pointless and plotless, except for some really kinky smut, if you’re into that sort of thing, we’re talking handcuffs, dom Matt, Phone Sex, domme alex, Dirty Talk, Roleplay, alex in a short leather dress and red lace lingerie because that’s a very blessed visual, and then there’s classic, against the hotel door smut, loads of hair pulling because my friends are pervs, And Of Course - Freeform, the traditional making love, but once we get to chapter nine, angst fest guaranteed, you bet i’m gonna sell the hell out of this story, leT THE ANGST FEST BEGIN Summary:

“I can’t hear him say it. He’s still - he’s my husband, Nic, and just because he’s done something like this doesn’t mean I don’t love him anymore. But I just - I can’t hear him say that he’s fallen out of love with me.”

Her voice cracks and a tear escapes her eye but she wipes it away hastily with the back of her hand, turning and burying her face into a cushion.

“Oh honey,” Nicola says sympathetically, “What are you going to do?”

Alex swallows, and closes her eyes.

“I have to leave. Before he does.”

Chapter Summary:

“Because I wanted to!” Matt shouts, abandoning his glass of whiskey and running his hand through his hair in frustration. “I always want to with you, Alex, and you damn well know that. You know exactly how much trouble I have resisting you - ”

“You’re doing a damn good job at resisting me now!” Alex shouts back, gesturing at herself.

[melodypond-thewomanwhomarriedme]

Chapters: 8/28 Fandom: Doctor Who RPF Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alex Kingston/Matt Smith Characters: Alex Kingston, Matt Smith Additional Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Established Relationship, How they fell in love and got married, how matt fucked up, and how he wins her back, sorta very angsty, very very long fic, if you’re reading for the plot then you might have to wait a little, because people (cassie) demands happy before the sad, so the second to eighth chapters are entirely pointless and plotless, except for some really kinky smut, if you’re into that sort of thing, we’re talking handcuffs, dom Matt, Phone Sex, domme alex, Dirty Talk, Roleplay, alex in a short leather dress and red lace lingerie because that’s a very blessed visual, and then there’s classic, against the hotel door smut, loads of hair pulling because my friends are pervs, And Of Course - Freeform, the traditional making love, but once we get to chapter nine, angst fest guaranteed, you bet i’m gonna sell the hell out of this story, leT THE ANGST FEST BEGIN Summary:

“I can’t hear him say it. He’s still - he’s my husband, Nic, and just because he’s done something like this doesn’t mean I don’t love him anymore. But I just - I can’t hear him say that he’s fallen out of love with me.”

Her voice cracks and a tear escapes her eye but she wipes it away hastily with the back of her hand, turning and burying her face into a cushion.

“Oh honey,” Nicola says sympathetically, “What are you going to do?”

Alex swallows, and closes her eyes.

“I have to leave. Before he does.”

[melodypond-thewomanwhomarriedme]

Chapters: 18/28 Fandom: Doctor Who RPF Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alex Kingston/Matt Smith Characters: Alex Kingston, Matt Smith Additional Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Established Relationship, How they fell in love and got married, how matt fucked up, and how he wins her back, sorta very angsty, very very long fic, if you’re reading for the plot then you might have to wait a little, because people (cassie) demands happy before the sad, so the second to eighth chapters are entirely pointless and plotless, except for some really kinky smut, if you’re into that sort of thing, we’re talking handcuffs, dom Matt, Phone Sex, domme alex, Dirty Talk, Roleplay, alex in a short leather dress and red lace lingerie because that’s a very blessed visual, and then there’s classic, against the hotel door smut, loads of hair pulling because my friends are pervs, And Of Course - Freeform, the traditional making love, but once we get to chapter nine, angst fest guaranteed, you bet i’m gonna sell the hell out of this story, leT THE ANGST FEST BEGIN Summary:

“I can’t hear him say it. He’s still - he’s my husband, Nic, and just because he’s done something like this doesn’t mean I don’t love him anymore. But I just - I can’t hear him say that he’s fallen out of love with me.”

Her voice cracks and a tear escapes her eye but she wipes it away hastily with the back of her hand, turning and burying her face into a cushion.

“Oh honey,” Nicola says sympathetically, “What are you going to do?”

Alex swallows, and closes her eyes.

“I have to leave. Before he does.”

Chapter Summary:

She allows herself one day. One day to wallow about, one day to cry, one day to stare at her torn wedding picture and mourn the love that she once shared with her husband. She tries in vain to tape up the photo but it doesn’t hold together, the tears going through the creases where it was once crumpled. She keeps it anyway - since she doesn’t have the ring anymore, she should be allowed at least one reminder of their marriage.

[melodypond-thewomanwhomarriedme]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Doctor Who RPF Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Alex Kingston/Matt Smith Characters: Alex Kingston, Matt Smith Additional Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, How they fell in love and got married, how matt fucked up, and how he wins her back, sorta very angsty, very very long fic Summary:

“I can’t hear him say it. He’s still - he’s my husband, Nic, and just because he’s done something like this doesn’t mean I don’t love him anymore. But I just - I can’t hear him say that he’s fallen out of love with me.”

Her voice cracks and a tear escapes her eye but she wipes it away hastily with the back of her hand, turning and burying her face into a cushion.

“Oh honey,” Nicola says sympathetically, “What are you going to do?”

Alex swallows, and closes her eyes.

“I have to leave. Before he does.”

-

@thespacehairandthespaceidiot happy birthday honey! <3 i hope you like your gift :))))

[melodypond-thewomanwhomarriedme]

Chapters: 5/? Fandom: Doctor Who RPF Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alex Kingston/Matt Smith Characters: Alex Kingston, Matt Smith Additional Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Established Relationship, How they fell in love and got married, how matt fucked up, and how he wins her back, sorta very angsty, very very long fic, if you’re reading for the plot then you might have to wait a little, because people (cassie) demands happy before the sad, so the second to eighth chapters are entirely pointless and plotless, except for some really kinky smut, if you’re into that sort of thing, we’re talking handcuffs, dom Matt, Phone Sex, domme alex, Dirty Talk, Roleplay, alex in a short leather dress and red lace lingerie because that’s a very blessed visual, and then there’s classic, against the hotel door smut, loads of hair pulling because my friends are pervs, And Of Course - Freeform, the traditional making love, but once we get to chapter nine, angst fest guaranteed, you bet i’m gonna sell the hell out of this story Summary:

“I can’t hear him say it. He’s still - he’s my husband, Nic, and just because he’s done something like this doesn’t mean I don’t love him anymore. But I just - I can’t hear him say that he’s fallen out of love with me.”

Her voice cracks and a tear escapes her eye but she wipes it away hastily with the back of her hand, turning and burying her face into a cushion.

“Oh honey,” Nicola says sympathetically, “What are you going to do?”

Alex swallows, and closes her eyes.

“I have to leave. Before he does.”