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toomuchracket · 2 months ago

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constellations (literal d word (dad) matty x reader fluff)

you have an eight year old who loves space. let's redecorate her bedroom! promptober day 18. enjoy <3

you're applying your moisturiser when matty pads back into the bedroom; he drops a kiss to the top of your head, and you smile. “babies asleep?”

“yeah. alex took a while to get there… oi, stop that!” he grumbles when you stand, smearing the excess lotion from the back of your hand across his face.

“what? it's cold outside. it dries your skin out. you needed that,” you softly kiss his neck, wrapping your arms around his waist. “anyway, you were saying al took a while to fall asleep?”

“not ages. but we had to do two stories.”

you squint at your husband. “what was the first one?”

“llama llama red pyjama.”

“did you do the voices? and the noises?”

“obviously, babe.”

“matty,” you groan into his shoulder. “of course he took ages to fall asleep, you got him all hyped up.”

he sighs. “can't help it. i just love the sound of his laugh,” he hugs you tighter. “same as yours, you know.”

“thank god he got something from me.”

matty giggles, pulling back to kiss you quickly. “stop pouting,” he pulls his t-shirt over his head, and suddenly you're more than willing to listen to everything he says. “they both got your brains, darling. actually, lyla was just- oh,” he smirks when you remove your dressing gown, body bare aside from a black thong. “hi.”

rolling your eyes, you reach for the t-shirt he just discarded and pull it over your own head, before climbing into bed and burrowing under the covers; it doesn't stop him from giving you the eyes, though. but you won't be swayed. “you were saying?”

“hmmm? oh, yeah. our daughter,” matty kicks his sweatpants off - you glare at him as he does, and he rolls his eyes and neatly folds them - and climbs in beside you. almost instinctively, you move to lie on his chest, kissing his tattoo softly before turning your head to look up at your husband. he smiles adoringly down at you, gently stroking your hair. “she's so fucking smart. you know how they're learning about space at school?”

“mhmm.”

“she listed all the planets to me and all the moons of neptune. in descending order of how close they were to the planet,” matty shakes his head. “she's eight.”

you smile. “our genius girl.”

“she's gonna ask you about stars and constellations tomorrow, by the way.”

“me? why?”

“because she asked me and i said i didn't know anything, and then she did that thinking face where she really, really looks like you and said ‘i'll talk to mum about it. she'll know.’”

“what gave her that idea?”

“dunno. maybe your tattoos,” he runs his arm over the three tiny constellations inked on your upper arm, representing his and both your babies’ star signs. “or maybe she just thinks i'm an idiot.”

you smirk. “probably that.”

“oh, shut up,” he goes to flick your nose, but you catch his index finger gently between your teeth before he can; because you can't help yourself, you wrap your lips around the digit, and matty’s pupils dilate. “don't start something you won't finish, princess.”

okay, maybe you will be swayed.

looking doe-eyed at your husband, you release his finger with an audible pop, shuffling to sit properly on his lap. “if you finish inside me, does it count?”

“fuck,” matty groans; suddenly, you're underneath him, your neck being attacked by kisses. “think you can keep quiet enough?”

“yes, daddy.”

“good girl.”

***

“well, that's not right.”

matty grits his teeth, holding onto the top of the ladder and looking down at his daughter, whose curly head is buried in an astronomy book from the local library that's almost as big as she is. “again?”

you peer over lyla's head, looking at the page and the bedroom ceiling and back to the page again. “not right at all.”

“fantastic,” he wipes the sweat from his forehead. “which star is the most wrong?”

lyla shoves her glasses up her nose and opens her mouth; matty cuts her off. “i don't know their official names, remember - is it the big one that's the issue, or the smaller ones?”

she tilts her head in a way so reminiscent of matty that you have to bite back a giggle. “that little one to your left, dad.”

“‘kay. and where should it be?”

“further left, and down. like, a little bit down. not too much.”

he nods, carefully peeling the adhesive stars from the ceiling and rearranging them as per lyla's instructions. “alex?”

your son looks up from his comic book. “yeah, dad?”

“go and look at your sister’s book and tell me if this looks right. i need an objective opinion.”

he obliges, carefully placing his book on the bed before wandering over. you roll your eyes. “really, matthew?”

“yes, really,” matty twists, face screwing into a grimace as he stretches the twinge-y muscle in his back. “you girls are perfectionists. al keeps it real,” at that, lyla scowls up at her dad, and he backtracks immediately, face softening. “and that's not a bad thing, munchkin, not at all. it's just… well, there are limits to how accurate we can get everything in here, yeah? sometimes we have to compromise our artistic vision. s'just a sad fact of life.”

you scoff. “and when have you ever compromised on your artistic vision?”

“when you've told me to.”

“alright, i'll give you that one,” you raise your eyebrows, nodding slowly. “so, al - has dad got this one right?”

“hmm,” alex frowns at the page, his brows creasing cutely just like his dad's, then scrutinises the ceiling; his face drops into placidity, and he nods. “i think so.”

“thanks, mate,” matty reaches down to ruffle your son's curly head (only wincing slightly on the way back up), before sighing and smiling sheepishly at your daughter. “lyla? what are your thoughts, darling?”

she readjusts her glasses, and the rest of you wait with baited breath; there's a collective exhale when she grins. “looks good, dad. thanks.”

he beams. “you're welcome, munchkin. now,” he steps a rung down the ladder. “lunchtime?”

you shake your head. “there's still one more, babe.”

“god, really?” matty sighs, pressing his head into the handle at the top of the ladder. “feels like we've been doing this for hours.”

“well, what's one more, then? come on,” you gently tap his denim-covered ass, at which the kids giggle. “you did agree to this, matty.”

“yeah, when i wasn't of sound mind.”

(read: the morning after your late-night lovemaking session a couple of nights ago, the ending of which left your husband extremely chipper and thus agreeable to your suggestion that he stick glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling of your space-daft daughter's room.)

you smirk. “some would argue that's the most sound a mind can be. a certain… clarity to it, no?”

matty shoots you a familiar look, a wordless warning that you're at risk of pushing it too far and getting into trouble if you don't stop now, and you can't deny that it's thrilling; not even a second later, he's switching back into dad mode, gentle and pragmatic with your babies in a way that's almost as sexy as the dominant look you just got. “alright. what is the final constellation, then?”

“s'my birthday one,” lyla beams, moving to snuggle into you. “me and mummy are gonna match!”

“oh,” matty's eyes and voice are as tender as you've ever known them to be - the sweet smile he follows with is even more so. “m'sorry for complaining, darlings, this is very important. alex, would you pass me the… yes, thank you, munchkin,” the final set of stars in hand, he beams at you again. “i reckon i can do this one without guidance, i think. can i try?”

you nod, smiling just as tenderly as your husband. “of course.”

and he does, perfectly placing the stars on the ceiling in the pattern he's known by heart for the past seven years, the pattern he watched you get permanently etched onto your arm while he held the tiny baby girl it was dedicated to. unlike last time, she's awake and alert enough to watch the pattern form, looking up at the ceiling and her father with a beaming smile on her adorable face and her arm around her little brother; something about it all has tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, total love for your family and gratitude for how wonderful your life is both threatening to overwhelm you.

matty seems to notice - when he's finished the constellations, and safely on solid ground again, one of his arms finds its way around your waist and his lips meet your temple. “love you, darling,” he murmurs, as you watch your kids look awestruck at the stars above them. “thank you.”

“for what?”

he nods towards lyla and alex. “them. convincing me to do this. our life, really,” he squeezes your waist. “s'perfect.”

you sniffle. “so are the constellations. really, matty,” you kiss his shoulder. “they're amazing, baby. i love them. and you, of course!”

matty giggles. “kids?” he calls; two little curly heads bounce over to you in response. “what do we think of the stars, then?”

alex is enthusiastic, hair all but flipping as he nods. “they're so cool!”

lyla's a bit more measured in her response, but her excitement shines through in the way she throws herself at matty to hug him. “i love them, dad. thank you,” she giggles when he kisses her cheek, reaching for you so she can coordinate a group hug. “we match now, mum.”

“we do, darling, you're right,” you hug your kids in tighter. “i love you, my babies. you too, matty.”

“i love you, too,” he laughs. “can we genuinely get lunch now, though? m'starving. that was hard work, that.”

you laugh softly. “yeah. go on, babies, go and get a fruit shoot,” they oblige, and once they're safely out of earshot you wrap your arms around matty's shoulders. “for all the effort you put in today… you can eat me before we go to sleep tonight, if you want.”

he hums happily, leaning down to kiss you until you're dizzy. “never wanted anything more.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #d word matty #literal d word #lyla #alex #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader #promptober75

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