#I could go on for hours but I won’t I’ll just post this instead

[perigilpin]

a little mystery to figure out

Bo-Katan x The Armorer

The royal warrior fallen from grace and the steadfast spiritual leader, ideological opposites with a common goal. It’s the sun and the moon, now perfectly aligned in an eclipse, and no one can look away.

Written for the @swfemmefrenzy prompt Mand’alor

——————————————————————————-

At first it simply reads as a strong showing of solidarity between the two factions. The pair’s mutual respect and partnership is a sign of understanding that all walks of life, all ways to be a Mandalorian, will be honored here on thier home world.

Such it is that when the Mand’alor speaks to the crowd, it is always The Armorer at her right hand. And when the Armorer leads ceremony at the Living Waters, the Mand’alor always stands not far behind her, in support.

Yet it is not just pomp and ceremony that tie the two together. It is no secret that they can often be found side by side by side talking on this or that, in the trenches rebuilding, overseeing the foundlings training, or just sitting by the fire. (At least one observer has even claimed to have seen them walking through the gardens together while talking in hushed tones.)

In short, where one goes the other is sure to follow.

So it’s no shock that the rumor mill is set ablaze. It’s a common ground a both groups have vested interest in, and they trade peices of information like currency.

( “The Mand’alor used to be involved with a Jedi”, a Nite-Owl whispers to a member of the Covert as they haul debris together to clear room for a larger camp.

“We don’t even know The Armorer’s real name. I don’t think anyone does.” he replies.)

Perhaps the first whispers started back on Nevvaro, within the Covert, when then now Mand’alor emerged scandalously bare faced from the humble forge, walking side by side with thier leader. Or maybe it was during the battle for Mandalor, as silver and gold sliced and swung in perfect sync as they led the charge.

It’s quite the tale really.

The royal warrior fallen from grace and the steadfast spiritual leader, ideological opposites with a common goal. It’s the sun and the moon, now perfectly aligned in an eclipse, and no one can look away.

So of course people talk, as they always have, as they always will.

Sparring partners debate as they clash. (“I heard they got secretly married right after the battle for Mandalor.”

Then the adamant reply, “No way. I bet they actually hate each other. It’s gotta be be just for show.”)

Friends whisper to each other in the dining hall.(“Do you think the Manda’lor has seen her face?”)

There is one thing everyone agrees on though, and that is that there is much work to do.

Especially so in the forge. The Mand’alor has been leading parties in to the destroyed imperial base. First as search parties, now to gather the fallen imperial’s pieces of bastardised beskar.

The shiny white armor plates begin to stack up in the back of the forge, and while it means much work, it also means new armor for foundlings and repairs for those damaged in battle.

On this particular day, a curious gaggle of both helmeted and bare faced young Mandalorians watch The Armorer from a distance in the shadows of the cavernous great forge hall. She hammers at the forge, methodically working a large peice of metal until the sound of a small vehicle breaks her from her trance.

It’s the Mand’alor, backing up a speeder full of shining white imperial helmets, chest plates, and miscellaneous pieces.

The helmetless woman jumps straight of out the seat over the side of the speeder, and gestures with a flourish to the bounty. She says something playfully that, even straining, the group can’t quite manage to hear.

What they do hear is a laugh tempered with the lightest static from a voice modulator, that resounds throughout the cavernous chamber. The Armorer then closes the gap between herself and The Mand’alor, gently placing her gloved hands on the other woman’s shoulders before letting them fall, tenderly grazing the length of her arms on the way down.

“Ooo! I told you!” One of the foundlings squeals from the shadows , “They’re definitely in love.”

“They are not” her friend parries, not as quietly as they should have , “Just because YOU are in love with our Manda’lor does not mean everyone else is too.”

“Phstt, shut up! You’re just mad you lost our bet.” She playfully swats at her friend but the beskar on beskar contact sends a high pitched ping throughout the chamber and both Bo-Katan and The Armorer turn thier heads to to look in thier direction.

“Run! Let’s get out of here.”

“You owe me 10 credits!”

“I do not, that didn’t prove anything!”

Their voices carry throughout the chamber as they scurry away, despite their best efforts.

In the distance, on the grand pedestal of the ancient forge, Bo-Katan smiles despite herself focusing her attention back on The Armorer.

“I have to get this speeder back to the landing platform, but after that...” she lifts her hand to play with the ruffled furs on the edge of The Armorer’s cape, “I’m plenty free to prove anything you’d like.”

“Well my tracinya’ika” she replies in the soft voice that Bo-Katan has come to know is just for her, “I might have a few ideas.”

“This is the way.”

[nocturnalcharm]

Faking It (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

𐙚 prompt: charles forces you and logan to do a mission together in order to help you bond. 𐙚 cw: enemies to lovers, one bed trope, if this does well i’ll do a part 2 w smut ;) cussing, 𐙚 a/n:  thanks to everyone who's sent me req's! this wasnt a req but id already started it haha if youve sent a req ill try to get to it asap.... also so many ppl wanted to be added to a taglist but for the nsfw alphabet post i dont think it tagged like half the ppl?? so im sorry if u dont get tagged, im trying to fix it :)

18+ blog!! you are responsible for your own media consumption. if any of the above makes you uncomfortable, do not proceed.

“Professor, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“(Y/N), it’s not me you should be apologizing to. It’s your team. That’s who you both let down.” He eyes flick between you and Logan.

“I’ll go apologize to them now.” You turn to leave.

“You too Logan.” Charles says.

On this latest mission, you needed to sneak into a factory and take down all of the enemies— But you and Logan were arguing so loudly, you alerted all of the rivals, turning a few quick sneak attacks into full blown fights. No one was badly injured but you still felt horrible about it.

“This is all your fault.” You mumbled, just loud enough for Logan to hear.

“My fault? You’re kidding.” He huffs.

“Shut up.” You walk ahead of him, on the way to the common room to see your team.

Everyone was sitting there, talking amongst themselves. Once you and Logan entered, they all stopped their conversations and looked at you.

“Guys. I am so sorry about this mission.”

“I’m sorry, extremely sorry, and I apologize for my behavior.” Logan mocked your expression of regret.

“You are such a child, Logan! I’m trying to apologize!” You raised your voice.

“I am too!”

“Can you two just stop?” Hank stood up, silencing you both. “Your attitudes have been getting in the way of every mission. If you guys can’t get along then maybe you shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh..” You didn’t know how to respond. You couldn’t believe you let your dislike for Logan get in the way of your job, so much that they thought you shouldn’t be an X-Man anymore.

They all left the room, leaving just you and Logan to culminate in your thoughts.

“I think it’s pretty obvious we’re not going to get along any time soon.” He broke the silence.

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, whatever you say.” He walked out, as you sat in the empty room.

The next day, Xavier called you and Logan into his office yet again. You were concerned, worried he might be kicking you off the team. But instead, he said he had a mission for you two.

“I need you to pose as a couple. You’ll be going to an upscale hotel in Manhattan. It’s a cover for a drug smuggling ring. You two will stay as guests in order to collect information. I need everyone that is there, guests and workers alike, to think you two are madly in love. We don’t know who could be involved, so we can’t have them think anything suspicious.”

“Professor, is that the best idea? We just blew the last mission because we couldn’t stop arguing.”

“If you two fail this mission, I will have no choice but to replace both of you. You are amazing at what you do, but your arguing affects everyone. Not just yourselves.”

“Okay. We won’t let you down.” Logan speaks up.

***

The trip to the hotel was long and frustrating. You two couldn’t agree on anything the entire time. You criticized his driving, he criticized what you put on the radio, and how loud it was. You called him an old man, which just resulted in the radio being turned off and continuing the last hour drive there in silence.

When you arrived, it was late afternoon. Logan, pretending to be your fiance, grabbed all the bags by himself and walked inside. The hotel was huge. It was upscale, classy. So fancy you were afraid to touch anything, in fear it might break.

“Hi! Checking in for Anderson.” He greeted the front desk clerk, giving his forged name. He dropped the bags on the floor and you wrapped yourself around his now-free arm, squeezing it.

“Hello, Mr. Anderson.” She smiled back, “Let’s see. You had the penthouse, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“We’re celebrating our engagement!” You beamed, holding out your hand, showing off your fake engagement ring.

“That’s lovely. Congratulations! We’ll have a bottle of champagne in your room for celebration.”

“Thank you so much!” You squeaked.

He finished the check-in process, then you headed to the top floor.

The penthouse was absolutely gorgeous. It was huge, the size of a decent apartment. Just like the lobby, you were afraid to break something.

“Wow.. This is amazing. Only time I’ll ever get to stay in a penthouse and it’s with you.” You said, as he shut the door.

“I was just thinking the same thing. Now, c’mon we gotta go to the pool. Get changed.” He handed you your bag.

You opened it, pulling out your bikini. It was the only one you had, admittedly from a few years ago. You didn’t have time anymore to relax by a pool or go swimming in the ocean, so this swimsuit had to do. It was a simple black string bikini.

You went inside the bathroom to change. Once you had your swimsuit on, you felt a little self conscious at the amount of skin showing, but figured it’d help with the whole ‘can’t keep your hands off your new fiance’ vibe you and Logan needed to exude for this mission.

You walked out of the bathroom, faking confidence you didn’t have. Logan had taken the opportunity to just change in the living space since he was alone. He was wearing black swim trunks. It was funny, it looked like you two had matched on purpose.

“Wow.” He said quietly, clearing his throat.

“What? You like what you see?” You joked at his clear uncomfortableness with seeing you in such little clothing.

“Whatever, let’s just go.” He spat, grabbing two towels, the key, and exiting the room.

The second you were out the door, you both had big smiles on your face. His arm was around you, holding your side as you headed to the pool.

It wasn’t too busy, just a few kids with their parents, and a bartender at the outdoor bar. You told him you wanted a drink, so that’s where you headed first.

“Hey, can I get two Mojitos?” Logan asked, handing him the room key “And can you just charge it to our room?”

“Of course,” He started working on the drinks immediately, while you two sat and people-watched. He finished the drinks, and gave you them and the room key back.

You said thank you as you walked off, hoping Logan would just follow. There was a small hot tub that was empty, so that’s where you went. You stepped in carefully, afraid of slipping, and sat down in the warm water.

“Really?” Logan whispered, a fake smile still adorned on his face.

“This is what couples do, Logan. And we’re a couple for this weekend. So sit down and act like you love me, sweetie.” Your grin was starting to hurt your cheeks.

He sat down across from you, and you mentally rolled your eyes. You got up, and repositioned yourself, sitting in his lap, “What part of ‘act like you love me’ are you not getting?” 

He was frozen for a moment, caught off guard but quickly acted like he was happy to have you there, to not draw suspicion. You both took sips of your drink, as you continued to nonchalantly looked around.

You two stayed at the pool for awhile, taking mental notes of the guests and employees you saw. Honestly, this hotel didn’t seem too strange. But Xavier said it was a front so you guessed that’s why it seemed so normal, for their cover.

Once your drinks were empty, and the sun had started to go down, you both decided to head back up to the room. He got out drying himself off before wrapping you up in your towel. He picked you up and carried you bridal-style to the penthouse.

“Logan!”

“What? Just acting like I love you.” He smirked.

Once inside the room, he set you down. “I’m gonna go shower.” You stated, not really knowing what to do. 

He just nodded, walking off to the kitchenette. You grabbed your bag and headed to the bathroom.

***

You mentally cursed yourself as you scrambled through your bag, searching for a pair of pajama shorts you thought you packed, but they were nowhere to be found. 

“This cannot be real.” You whispered. The only other clothes you brought were jean shorts, and you sure as hell weren’t going to sleep in those.

You pulled out your oversized sleepshirt, putting it on. The hem landed right above the middle of your thigh. It was a little shorter than the length of a nightgown, so you just hoped he wouldn’t notice. You slipped on a pair of panties, snatched up your things, and exited the bathroom.

You immediately bumped into Logan, who was standing right outside the door.

“What the fuck?” You raised your voice, annoyed. “Why are you right outside the door?”

“I was about to knock. You’ve been in there for over an hour.”

“It’s all yours!” You sassed.

You walked over to the small kitchen, and see he had already opened up the champagne. You had a glass as you sat on a barstool, writing down some notes about the people you’d observed earlier. Pouring yourself another glass, you headed over to the bed.

Just as you made yourself comfortable, Logan came out of the washroom, in just a towel. You stared at his wet torso for a moment, hypnotized.

“My eyes are up here.” He laughed.

You looked up, embarrassed.

“Forgot my clothes. Hey, wait, why are you in the bed?”

“…Because I’m the girl?”

“You're also the short one. I can’t fit on that couch.”

“Oh, c’mon. It’s a big bed. We can both fit just fine. Unless you’re nervous. Never slept with a girl before, Lo?”

He sighed, clearly not wanting to argue, before taking his clothes and escaping back to the bathroom. You silently celebrated your victory.

He came out a few moments later, turning off the lights, sliding under the blankets and getting comfortable. You both ended up facing the same direction. If he was any closer, he’d be the big spoon, but there was a few inches separating you.

You adjusted your body, and accidentally felt your ass rub against him. You went rigid from humiliation, before scooting away slightly, ignoring it since he didn’t say anything.

You tried to fall asleep, but it was difficult, for many reasons. One, you’re not used to having someone else in your bed. Two, he was breathing heavily. Three, you couldn’t stop thinking about how sexy he was.

Of course, you knew Logan was attractive, you’d thought that since the moment you first saw him. But today, probably because of the faux-gagement, the touching, the flirting, you saw him differently. He was still getting on your nerves, but the flames between you two… His body… It was unlike before.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You twiddled your feet, moving around your body nervously, before unintentionally grazing your ass against his crotch again.

“Y’know, if you keep rubbing your ass against my dick, I’m gonna do something about it.” His words sounded gruff in your ear, but they gave you butterflies.

“Maybe that’s what I want.” 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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[yelenasdiary]

Yelena x reader Request

Reader gets kidnapped. When yelena finds out, she's hell-bent on finding her. She goes crazy with worry. The others are surprised at yeleans reaction because she's usually so calm and collected. They didn't know she cared so much for reader.

Finding You

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Platonic), Mentions of Kate Bishop x Fem! Reader

Summary: When a mission goes south and you’re kidnapped, Natasha asks Yelena for help. 

Angst, Comfort

Warnings: Kidnapping, mentions of torture, guns, blood and people dying | 1.7K

AC: I love this idea, I decided to do this as a platonic story, I hope that’s okay!! Thank you for sending it!! I hope you enjoy! x 

“I hope this works” Steve commented as he and Natasha walked down the long hall to meet Yelena at reception. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing” Nat replied. Yelena slightly shook her head as her eyes traced the wide-open space of the compounds reception and waiting room. Nat had called her to come for something important, she thought maybe it was just another plan to try and convince her to join the avengers. 

“Nice of you to come collect me” Yelena said sarcastically as she made eye contact with her older sister. Natasha didn’t make a joking remark back but instead jumped straight into it. “We need your help” she said sternly, keeping eye contact with the blonde. Yelena cocked a brow, “what’s Kate done now?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Kate is fine, Peter and Clint are bringing her back now. She may have a concussion, but we’ll keep an eye on her in medical. It’s Y/n we need your help with” Natasha explains, “she’s been taken” she added. 

Like a light switch, Yelena’s behavior changed. “Where do you need me?” She asked, clenching her jaw at the mere thought of you being tortured. Natasha and Steve led Yelena to the conference room where they had eyes on the team and were able to communicate with those in the field. They gave her a run-down of the mission and the events that took place before you were kidnapped. With each detail Yelena’s worries only grew, every possible ‘what if’ thought ran through her mind to add to her worries. 

“How long has it been since your last contact with her?” Yelena asked, her eyes skimming through the key details that were written on a whiteboard. 

“24 hours ago, as of 20 minutes ago” Steve replied. Yelena turned to him, “you guys waited this fucking long?! Do you even know what HYDRA could have done to her within that time?!” She snapped. 

“Yelena!” Natasha scolded, “We have been doing our best! We didn’t plan for this to happen, okay? HYDRA are too focused on what we are doing, they won’t expect you. They are expecting us to be the ones to go after her, that’s what they want. If we keep HYDRA distracted, you should be able to get in and find her” she explains. She was a little surprised by her sister’s reaction, as far as she knew, Yelena didn’t care all that much for you. Yelena was friends with Kate and occasionally hung out with the two of you but she never spoke much about you or ever expressed any opinions. 

“Oh good, I see you filled Yelena in” Clint’s voice entered the room. Yelena side-eyed him, “how’s Kate” she asked with concern. “She’s tough, you should probably go see her before you leave. She’ll be able to help you” he replies. Yelena nodded at his words before she looked back to her sister. 

“I don’t care what you guys do or whatever you guys are trying to steal. Stay out of my way and I’ll bring Y/n back” Yelena replied sternly with a hint of worry in her voice that Natasha picked up on. 

“We work as a team” Steve stepped forward. 

“Shut it, flag boy! I don’t take orders from you, you asked for my help and I’m giving it but I do it my way” Yelena snapped once more, glaring over at Steve. 

“Yelena, enough!” Natasha scolded once more, “all we ask is that you keep contact with us, keep us posted on what’s going on at your end. If you need back up, we will be there. We’ll keep HYDRA on their toes and distracted, that should give you some leeway” 

Yelena sighed lightly, “fine, but I’m not wasting anymore time here. I’ll go see Kate and then I’ll be on my way. Natasha, can you send me the GPS?” She replied. Natasha nodded before she watched her sister leave the room. Steve let out a heavy sigh as he looked over to Nat, “are you sure she doesn’t to join the team?” He asked sarcastically causing Nat to chuckle. 

“Shut it, flag boy” she joked. 

----

Looking through the scope of her advanced sniper rifle, Yelena could see two HYDRA guards dragging you from one building to another. She couldn’t see the extend of your injuries but from what she could see, half your face was covered in blood along with some cuts and tears on your suit. Yelena knew better than to go in, guns blazing, she had to wait it out a little. Wait for any sign of the Avengers to show up and start the gun fight themselves, this gave the blonde some time to work out a plan to get into the building without being seen. 

She pulled out her binoculars and scoped the area for any other signs of guards and anything that would help her plan to break in. 

“Yelena, what’s your position?” Nat’s voice came through the small earpiece. 

“About 8-9 men surrounding the first building, 12 or more surrounding the second. I’m sending in my small drone to get sights on the inside” Yelena replied. 

“Please tell me this isn’t a noticeable drone” Nat quizzed. 

“Don’t worry, it’s a full-sized loud drone. They won’t even be able to unseen it” Yelena tsked knowing her sister was rolling her eyes. “Steve is getting ready to make a move, let me know if you’re comfort with that” 

“Give me a moment” Yelena replied, sending off her micro sized drone down the cliffside and into the building she had seen the guards take you in. On her right side was her laptop which showed live camera footage from the drone. She controlled the drone into each room until she came to a room that was sealed shut by a large, metal door and from what Yelena would see was heavily locked.

“Give dinosaur the okay” Yelena spoke once more before retracting her small drone to her. “His name is Steve” Natasha corrected. 

“Same thing” Yelena mumbled with a shake of her head. 

Within minutes the HYDRA base was lighting up with the sound of gunfire and flying bullets as Yelena sat back and watched the building you were in for a few short minutes. Once she was sure the building was clear, she made her move. 

You were changed to a cold, metal chair with your wrists and ankles cuffed together. The room was cold, dark and it echoed whenever you yelled out to the guards that they would reject this. They had beaten you and tortured you for information on the Avengers, you were worried about them killing you, if they wanted you dead, you would be already. What worried you the most was the things you knew HYDRA was capable of doing. They had already poked you with a strong anesthesia that was only now just starting to wear off. 

Your vision was slightly blurry, your throat was dryer than you’ve ever felt it to be, your fingertips were numb, you were cold and sure that your open cuts would catch an infection if they weren’t tended too shortly. The room was soundproof, you couldn’t hear anything form the outside, you could only see the shadows of their feet under the door. On top of this, you did your best to ignore the headache that was making your head pound and the grumbling sound of your stomach.  

“Get the girl! Get the girl!” a voice yelled over the HYDRA guard's walkie-talkie, Yelena had snuck her way through the first building, taking down any guard that stood her in her way. She stalked the HYDRA soldier has he ran into the second building, his hand in one of his pockets digging around for the keys to your chamber.

“HEY YOU! STOP!” Yelena heard a voice yell from behind her before more bullets were shot at her. Using her batons, she was able to knock the guard off his feet and kicking his gun away before stabbing her widow’s dagger into his spine. The soldier fell face-first to the ground, creating a pool of blood at his body. 

Through your blurry vision, you saw the rays of day light peak through the door as the guard opened it in a hurry. “What’s a girl gotta do to get a drink around her?” You asked sarcastically. Without a thought, the guard hit you harshly in the face with his gun, knocking you out. 

The sound of Yelena’s gun going off echoed through the room as she shot the guard from behind, he dropped lifelessly at your feet before Yelena rushed to your aid. 

“Y/n” she said in a worry, lifting your face up, “Y/n! Wake up!” She added before she realized you were just knocked out. “Natasha! I need back up, now!” Yelena said before she began to free you from the chained restrains. 

“Hold tight, I’m coming” Natasha replied. 

----

“Yelena, you don’t wait around” Natasha said softly as she peeped her head into your room at the medical bay. Yelena looked up at her sister and smiled softly, “it’s okay. She’s my friend, I want to wait” she replied. Nat didn’t argue, she closed the door softly and walked away with a little smile on her lips knowing her sister had finally found some good people to keep around her. When you woke, you were surprised to see Yelena sitting by your side. 

“Yelena?” You questioned, your eyes struggling to stay open. 

“You’re okay” Yelena replied softly with a smile, “you had me worried for a moment” she added. 

“You?” You drowsily looked at her, “worried about me? Did you hit your head or something?” 

Yelena chuckled lightly, “no but you did” 

“Oh, so this isn’t actually happening right?” You smirked. 

Little did Yelena know, the rest of your team were watching through the window. “Well, she’s definitely your sister. I swore Yelena didn’t like Y/n” Tony commented. 

“We care, we just have different ways of showing it” Natasha replied. 

“Do you think I can go in there now?” Kate asked, “I just wanted to make sure she’s okay!” She added. 

“Yeah, sure, love bird” Peter teased, causing the team to chuckle lightly.

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[honeipie]

THE INTERVIEW

katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

synopsis: katsuki won’t do interviews for anyone. well, anyone that isn’t you.

this is part two of the first hockey boys katsuki post which you can find here

after the interaction at the bar, you and katsuki had been seeing more and more of each other, not only on a professional level, but a personal one as well. in public he'd answer your questions dead last during the press conferences, but you waited each time. knowing that when it was over he wouldn’t leave your side at that bar.

it didn’t take long for the two of you to start dating. you knew you liked him, and he liked you.

the two of you never made your relationship known to the public, due to the small fear you had of it interfering with your job. katsuki never minded, as long as you came home with him at the end of the day he wasn't going to complain.

so five months later here you were, in bed with one of the best hockey players in the league, trying to escape his need to cuddle.

buzz. buzz. buzz.

"get your damn phone will ya?" katsuki mumbled, pressing his eyes shut. you let out a long sigh eyes opening slowly.

"i would if you weren't holding me down like a damn paperweight" he only grumbled loosening his arm around your torso. you couldn’t help but giggle picking up the phone.

“don’t worry my baby. i’ll make it up to you”

“shut up” this made him fully let go and turn his body around. you couldn’t help but fully burst out in laughter at his dramatics before you answered your phone.

“hello?” you rubbed off the sleep that still clouded your eyes.

“y/n, sorry to call you this early but we’re going to need to have a meeting quickly. i hope you don’t mind”

you contained the groan you wanted to let out and opted for a small sigh instead “i’ll be there in an hour” hanging up you turned back to your boyfriend placing your chin in his shoulder.

“i gotta go to work kats”

he grumbled something before turning around to fully face you “this is the one day i don’t gotta go to practice and now they’re callin’ you in? what the hell?”

“i know it sucks, but i’ll be back as soon as possible ‘kay? it’s just a meeting then i should be done” you pulled him in for a kiss which he sleepily returned.

“ugh your breath-“

“shut the fuck up”

even through your teasing he couldn’t help but smirk a little. you got out of the bed opening up his closet. he had opened up a space for you knowing that you might have to get up and go. you picked out something that was comfortable, but still work appropriate. you didn’t plan on staying long anyways.

by the time you exited the closet you were quickly putting on lipstick and looking in the nearest mirror you could find. at this point, katsuki had gotten up and made his way over to you.

“you look nice”

he placed kisses at the crook of your neck, which you were trying not let get to you. cause if you did you would not be getting to work.

“thanks!” you put some earrings in trying not to tilt your head too much where he could have more leverage over you. once they were in you turned around making his head snap back up “i will be back. please remind me cause you know how i could stay there for hours” cupping his cheeks you pulled him in for one last kiss which left a lipstick stain, but you weren’t going to be the one to tell him that.

when you arrived at the station you said your casual hello’s before making your way into one of the conference rooms. luckily, there was already a coffee sitting there waiting for you. ever since you had drawn more attention for the station you’ve been getting some more positive attention.

“hello sir” you greeted your boss with a smile going to sit down across from him. he smiled back at you his teeth practically shining from all the whitening his does.

“there she is! sorry for calling you in on such short notice. i know you probably have errands to attend to" you only shrugged going to take a sip of your coffee "the reason i called you up is because we need something big. we've been getting attention from the players and that's good, but the season is almost over, and we can't just rely on those press conferences anymore. we need something bigger. remember those locker room interviews i was talking about? i was wondering if you could score one with any of the teammates. if you could pull it off, do it with bakugo. he seems to do strangely well with you"

your eyes flit up to meet his. you thought that you could get away with the press conferences for at least the rest of the season. katsuki and you never really delved too dead into work conversation. you'd always hit him with the little 'how was work' and his response never failed, 'y/n you were there'. that was all you would really do. you didn't want him to think that you were with him just to get information out of him, so you never said much about what your boss asked you to do.

"that should be okay with you right? i mean you are our star reporter"

clearing your throat you nodded "i should be able to pull something through. is this all? not to be rude, but i do have some plans for the rest of the day"

he shook his head standing up from his chair "that's all i got for ya" he walked over to give your hand a firm shake "thanks for being so cooperative. shoot me an email when you've got something" with that, he was out of the door.

your keys clanged against the ceramic bowl you made on one of you and katsuki's date nights. he had made one too, you just use it to keep your rings in. katsuki stood in the kitchen already starting prep on some dinner for later. you slipped off your shoes going over to stand next to him.

"how was your meeting?" he asked using a knife to scrape vegetables into a bowl. all you could do was shrug and hop onto the island counter.

"it was okay" you watched as his back muscles flexed along with his movements. katsuki was good on the ice for sure, but in the kitchen? it was like everything he touched was approved by God himself. after he had made your favorite meal after a long day you had never gone back to cooking yourself.

katsuki finished with the last of the vegetables before walking over to you. both hands rested by your thighs, which you wrapped around his waist bringing him closer “hello handsome” you went to lean in but to your surprise he dodged.

he must’ve noticed the offended look that crossed your face “tell me what’s up”

“nothing is up! i just wanted a kiss!”

“don’t lie to me. i just can tell something is wrong. don’t ask how, just tell me so i can help. don’t want you moping around the house bringin’ the mood down”

“weird way of saying you care” your fingers went up to play with some of his hair.

“i do care. that’s why i’m asking”

a small pout formed on your lips as you thought “i don’t want this to ruin what we have. i don’t want you to think im using you or anything, cause i’m not. i love you kat,” if you being upset before didn’t concern him enough this definitely did “my boss is asking me to get a locker room interview with someone on the team-“

“i’ll do it”

it was so quick you could’ve missed it. he didn’t look upset, or even angry. katsuki just shrugged as if it was an every day occurrence. as if he doesn’t brush off every single one on one interview there is. no, you’ve seriously seen him delete the emails before even opening them. fucking spam is what he calls them.

your eyebrows furrowed together at his words “you’re- you’re sure about this?”

“yeah why not. you’re definitely the one doing the interview right? plus if you don’t want it to be with me i’ll force one of the other extras to do it. they fuckin’ love the attention.. was that it?”

“i’ll be doing the interview for sure, and that was it”

he leaned down finally giving you the kiss you wanted along with a small ‘love you’ at the very end.

when he kissed you, there was an unusual feeling on his bottom lip. pulling away you put your thumb over his lip feeling out the bump.

"what the fuck? do you have herpes or some shit?"

katsuki pulled away with an offended expression "no i don't have fuckin' herpes! and if i did, i would've gotten it from your dumbass!"

"well i don't have herpes so where did the herpes bump come from?"

"stop calling it that!"

your stomach was hurting from laughter and katsuki was trying not to give in to your stupid jokes "i got it from that game yesterday. it's starting to swell up a bit" you tilted your head letting your thumb graze over it again.

"babe, you've gotta stop fighting. i don't want to mistake you for having STDs again-"

"is this your weird way of saying you care?"

"i do care"

the two of you stared at each other for a good minute, neither backing down until he let out a huff "fine. can't believe you're doin' this to me" he grumbled going to walk away into the bedroom “come get into some more comfortable clothes. i want to lay down to make up for this morning"

katsuki had a game the next day, so of course you sat right behind the bench where the team sat. it was a close match the whole game. tensions were high between both of the teams, and everyone could feel it. all throughout there was one player on the other team that was really pissing katsuki off, and you could tell from where you were sitting. the way he would skate quickly away from him every time he would get close. the way he would make the whole bench shake every time he sat down in rotations.

there was no physical contact made from either side. not until katsuki scored a goal for his team which must've aggravated the other enough to the point of bodychecking katsuki, hard.

the crowd egged the players actions on with ‘oooohs’ and ‘oh shits!’

now katsuki was livid. you could see him doing a quick turn around to face the player again, but suddenly stopped himself.

katsuki shook his head, and skated away.

the whole crowed murmured in confusion, the player who instigated it was confused. hell, you were even confused.

the day katsuki bakugou refused a fight has finally come.

after the game had finished, and everyone cleared out of the locker room, the station got it set up for the interview. you had taken katsuki into the coach’s office to explain how it was going to go down “so it’s not like a regular locker room interview. it’s going to be like a podcast episode. people eat those up nowadays so this is gonna be good-“

“hm” he was half listening to whatever you were saying. his face was buried in your neck and hands pulled you in by your waist. the blinds were closed and the door was shut, so there was a fifty-fifty chance you could’ve gotten caught, and he was willing to take it.

you decided explaining any more would be useless. all of it going through one ear and out the other. so you moved your hands up the back of his shirt making him shiver slightly “you did good today. i saw your goals”

“thanks baby” he whispered back placing soft kisses along your neck “we can go home after this right?”

“right after, then take a hot bath”

“then let’s get this over with” hesitantly, he pulled away from you going to open the door. you could tell how the game wore him out by how his shoulders sagged slightly, and his hair was a mess. hand going to his shoulder you stopped him “hey, we can do this another day”

he shook his head grabbing one of his baseball caps “nah i’m fine. turn this shit on” nodding you got into you seat. he settled into his but couldn’t help but watched as you fixed your appearance looking into one of the screens nearby. fixing your lipstick because he accidentally smeared it from the after game kiss. the way you straightened out your clothes because of the way he relaxed onto you like a pillow. he loved seeing the evidence of his love all over you, even if nobody knew.

man, he was starting to regret agreeing to keeping this secret.

“are you ready mr. bakugo?” you asked as if you didn’t even know him.

“yeah ‘m ready”

the interview was going smoothly for the most part. you asked him questions and he either gave you one of his famous snarky remarks, or an actual thought out answer. the topic of conversation had turned onto the events of today’s game, and you had questions already lined up in your head.

“so mr. bakugo you had a good game today with you and your teammates pulling in yet another victory. though i’m sure everyone is wondering why you didn’t involve yourself in the fight today. i mean that player was being pretty hostile”

katsuki shrugged pulling the mic away from his mouth a bit “my girl doesn’t like when i fight”

your eyebrow raised at his statement. the team behind the cameras ears perked up at the new information.

“your girl? you- you have a girlfriend?”

his eyes flit up to yours trying to contain his budding smirk “yeah i do. congratulations, you’re the first people to publicly know. other than the team”

“if you don’t mind me asking. how long have you and your girlfriend been together?”

“almost six months”

“so almost half a year. she must have something special if she could tie you down”

both of you were now smiling at each other. it wasn’t shocking that you were smiling, but katsuki? hell must’ve frozen over.

“yeah she’s special as hell, and pretty. might put a ring on her finger one of these days if that’s what she wants” he adjusted the mic once more “people might say that’s quick, but i say when you know you know. why waste time?”

you had choked on your spit causing a coughing fit. katsuki covered his face to hide the fact that he was chuckling at your misfortune. once you pulled yourself together you shook your head “i’m sorry about that. i don’t know what happened”

“don’t worry about it”

“well thank you so much mr. bakugo for doing this interview with us. you’ve been amazing”

he mumbled out a ‘you’re welcome’ before the cameras stopped rolling. you got up quickly making sure the crew had everything they needed before you made your way outside. both you and katsuki had driven your own cars here so you would simply meet him at home.

by the time he had gotten there you had already run the bath and gotten in. you could hear the soft pats of his clothes hitting the floor as he made his way into the bathroom. carefully, he slipped into the tub behind you, muscles instantly relaxing. the two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while. just basking in the warmth of the tub.

“you’re good at your job”

“thanks” you looked over your shoulder to see that his head was tilted back. his adam’s apple bobbed a little because of your movements.

“whatcha starin’ at me for?”

“cause your pretty. and i want to know if you meant what you said”

his one eye opened to look over at you “what did i say?”

katsuki knew what he said. he just wanted to be able to hear his words become yours.

“that you wanted to marry me”

he closed his eye again moving his arms to wrap around your body. they pulled you close with ease enveloping you in more warmth.

“i meant every fuckin’ word”

@v4mp3r

@yeehawgiddyup13

@b134ch-m4h-ey3z

@liluvtojineteyam

[bandgie]

Cats Galore | Ep. 3

MASTERLIST | Kink: Anal

🗝 The Other Neighbors downstairs hardly raise concern other than their weird fascinations with cats. You don't mind them playing with yours, but you're learning that things aren't as they seem.

4.6k words

warnings: MDNI18+, fem!reader, f!masturbation (brief), pussy play, fingering, 3some, anal, butt-play, PIV, no protection, cumming inside, creampie, finger sucking (m!), reader called kitty/slut, reader wears cat ears, minho is a bit of a mean dom, reader says she's gonna pee (doesn't), squirting, edging (brief), double penetration, boob sucking

notes: fuck, that's a lot of warnings, sorry. I was supposed to post this days ago but I was partying :( sorry, forgive me. hopefully the length makes up for it

“I almost fell down a well earlier, guys.”

The consistent clicking of their keyboard tells you they’re not listening. You’re staring out the kitchen window, watching the rain pour and the droplets race.

“Uh-huh.”

“I would have died.” Maybe that will catch their attention. Chan and Changbin have been nothing but busy-busy the moment they came home. Late. You had to mop the floors when their muddied shoes walked through the front.

“That’s nice.”

You wrinkle your nose, unsure if you should act upset or cordial. They’ve been home for hours, sitting at the tiny table typing away.

Editing to be exact. 

“So, how far are you in the album?”

“Very.” Chan takes off one side of his headphones. “I think we should be able to make the deadline if we stay up.” 

You try not to groan. Music is their everything. You get that. You’ve known that, but there are so many times you feel like you don’t even come second. If you bat your eyes prettily enough and cutely pout, they’d put it on hold. 

But then they wouldn’t get their work done. The stress they feel now would be nothing compared to scrambling last minute to put something together. 

And it would all be your fault because you don’t know how to stop being so clingy.

“That’s good.” You turn from the window and walk over to them, standing behind Changbin and looking at the DAW. You pretend you know what the different colors and lines mean, nodding and pecking his cheek encouragingly. “Looks good too.”

Changin’s already turning his head, pursing his lips so you could plant a kiss there instead, but Chan reaches over and flicks his forehead. “No. Babe, listen, we love you, but you’re distracting.”

“Distracting?”

“I mean, we won’t be able to do our work.” Chan is careful with his words. “Like, I bet Bin has a fucking boner from just you standing next to him.”

Changbin’s lips turn into an upside-down, sheepish smile, “Shut up.”

“Exactly. I promise you, at the end of the week, we’re all yours.” Chan smiles suddenly. His teeth look wolfish in the cutest way possible. “Was the first night not enough lovin’ for you?”

It was more than enough. You can feel Changbin buzzing with arousal just from the memory. It’s not often that your boys like to play rough, but when they do, they make sure to make it unforgettable.

Your dreamy button-boy helped significantly to make sure your lovin’ was sublime. 

“For now.” You shrug, but you grin knowingly. “I’ll leave you two alone then. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

Changbin purses his lips again when you lean down. This time, Chan doesn’t stop you two from kissing. It’s brief, but Changbin still hums with content in your mouth. Your lips disconnect with a gentle smack and you walk to the other side, doing the same to Chan.

“I’m serious. Go to bed at a reasonable time.” You narrow your eyes. “I don’t wanna deal with a grumpy Bin telling me Chan made him stay up all night.”

Chan presses another chaste kiss. “No promises.”

-

It’s when you want to sleep that it seems impossible. You want to get enough rest. The garden needs to be at least cleaned if you want it to blossom. But the only thing you can do in bed is toss and turn, replaying the events of the day until your mind wanders to Hyunjin.

There’s a small part of you that wants to dream about him again. Even if you have to see his buttons, it would be nothing compared to his cock dragging in your walls. 

He’s big. He has to be. You can remember how it felt against your cunt. The mere warmth from him had your clit throbbing, aching to feel his tip slide against you even if you had just finished in his mouth. 

And the kisses, his kisses. They felt so tender. So warm. You don’t think you’ll be able to recreate the sensation with your fingers, but you slide your hand down your panties anyway. But just when you make it past the dip, finger threading through your coarse hair, you hear the familiar sound. 

Squeak! Squeak!

Are you asleep already? Did so much time pass pretending that you actually did? You don’t know, and you don’t care to find out. The little mouse, just peeking through the crack of your door, is your only worry.

Seems like Hyunjin isn’t the one that didn’t get enough lovin’.

You fling the covers off and rush to the door. The mouse squeaks in panic, scurrying out and down the hallway to the stairs. You know it’s aiming for the little door. You don’t have to question the fact when it leaps over the steps and into the living room. 

Unlike the quiet mouse, your steps are loud, thudding down the stairs and tripping over the carpet. You regain your balance quickly, bumping into a wall and pushing off it for an extra boost into the dimly lit living room.

You don’t even see the mouse anymore, too consumed with prying your fingers through the crevasse and throwing it open. 

Like an old friend, the tunnel beams. It pulsates with life, with happiness, you think. The changing colors are like a beckoning finger that you listen to obediently. The passage feels exactly like it did the other night. Fuzzy, soft, warm, and everything right. 

The lights in the Other living room are just slightly different than last time. A little yellow, a little too pale. It hides the shadow of the couches that seem to glow with life, but you don’t dig too much into the aesthetic. You know there’s a note in the kitchen waiting for you.

This time, it’s not just a note on the table when you walk in, but a kitten headband next to it.

We’re downstairs.

We? You narrow your eyes and cock your head to the side. Who’s we? This isn’t Hyunjin’s handwriting. 

Another line of scribbles reads in a cuter, playful tone.

can’t wait to meet you! pleeasseee wear the kitty ears!!!!! (ㅅ •᷄ ₃•᷅ )

You’d laugh at the drawn emoticon if you weren’t confused. With one hand holding the letter and the other holding the headband, you think. 

Why are you dreaming of this? Who’s waiting for you? Why do they want you to wear a costume? 

It doesn’t matter how many times you ask yourself, those questions will never be answered. Not on this floor at least.

As beautiful as it is outside, you walk down the porch and turn right. There’s an opening with a small staircase leading down, the doorframe lit with pretty lights.

They flash inducingly; on and off in a way that makes it seem like the light is moving. 

They help with your jitters. You know that it won't be Hyunjin behind the door and sure as hell won’t be your boys. Still, you feel some exhilaration when you stop just a foot shy of the door.

It opens before you can knock a third time, revealing two men standing side-by-side. One has brown buttons for eyes, a beautiful complement to his freckled face and blonde hair. He smiles like it’s the easiest thing to do now that you’re here. His lips curve perfectly against his teeth, white and smooth. 

The other’s buttons are a deep burgundy, almost matching his chestnut hair. Only one side of his mouth quirks into a smile that’s closer to a grin. 

The blonde one shrieks with excitement. “Ah! You’re here! Minho, she’s here! Like, here here.”

You laugh, “Yeah. Here here. In the flesh.”

He lights up even more. The flashing bulbs on the doorframe dance on his face. “Yes! Come in. Hyunjin raved about you all day yesterday.” The blonde man opens the door wide enough for you to see the living room blocked by a curtain that he pushes back. It’s massive, adorned with cat sculptures and paintings. Even the couch has a fuzz that seems to resemble fur.

Minho chuckles. “Gosh. He wouldn’t shut up. He falls in love way too easily.”

Their conversation doesn’t click until you’re inside the apartment. You’re too busy deciding to be weirded out or impressed by the amount of cats perched on the wall.

Wait. Did Hyunjin tell them…

“What did he say about me?” You try to sound nonchalant, fingers grazing the soft sofa.

Minho flops on the other side of the couch. “Oh, nothing. Just that he wants to ask for your hand in marriage.” He snickers at his own joke, ignoring the disapproving shake of his friend’s head. 

“All good things, I promise.” The blonde man sits on the opposite side, patting the empty slot between them.

You sit gingerly, far enough that your thighs aren’t touching, but you can feel their bodies radiating warmth. You swear Minho eyes the way your thighs expand when you sit, tearing his buttons away to look at the kitten ears on your head.

“Very good things. He showed us some paintings he finished too, but he said it wasn’t enough to capture your beauty.” Minho smiles at your blush. “I should tell him to paint this too. The cat ears are a good touch.”

“Minho!”

“Felix!” Minho mimics his roommate's tone. “Am I doing something bad?” He looks at you, buttons gleaming with playfulness. “Am I?”

You shake your head. “N-no.”

The way his teeth are revealed is almost predatory. Almost as though he likes the hint of fear in your eyes. “Good. See? Hyunjin said you were a good girl too.” His hands reach behind your head, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The tips of his fingers barely graze you, but your skin feels on fire.

You know why you’re dreaming of them. Why you keep going through the tunnel. They must know too, but Minho plays with the ears on your head fondly. 

“I can tell you are. Wearing exactly what we asked you to.” He tilts his head. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but Felix and I have quite the…liking towards cats.”

You turn to the side, facing the differently posed statutes along the wall. “You don’t say.”

Minho giggles. “With you wearing the ears, well, let’s just say we’re seeing if you’d be a good addition to our collection.”

Felix chuckles beside you, scooting just enough so his leg rubs against yours. 

There’s so much you should be worried about. It’s all too familiar with how interesting Hyunjin was. To the underlying tones, the secretive glances they give each other, to the fact that they have you trapped between them. 

But when one of Felix’s hands goes to your inner thigh and Minho’s goes to your other, your heart drums for a different reason.

“I think we should look at your kitty down here to make sure you’ll fit in perfectly.” Felix’s voice is unbelievably smooth in your ear. His tone sends shivers down your spine and you visibly shake. 

He grins like he knows. “Would that be okay?”

You nod, but your ‘yes’ sounds more like a whimper than an actual voice. It’s easy for them to spread your legs, panties on display being that you don’t sleep with anything more than a shirt and underwear. They knead the softness of your inner thighs, cooing and laughing like they’ve got you right where they want you.

“This kitty listens so well.” Minho’s lips brush against your ear. He’s the first one to move towards your cunt, fingers sliding underneath your panties to pull it to the side.

“Ooo,” his breath gives you goosebumps. “And it’s a pretty one too.”

Your pussy feels cold now that it’s exposed. Felix pulls on your thigh so your pussy spread just slightly. He groans, deep and low. He’s quick to spread his fingers into a ‘v’ shape around your lips. 

Minho’s thumb grazes your flesh. It’s such a light touch, barely there if you hadn’t been paying close attention. The sensation makes you jolt off the couch just slightly, choking on a gasp. 

“Sensitive little thing, huh?” Miho smiles against your ear. “Barely even touching you.” His index finger trails along your slit, soon finding your clit. 

“Bet if I touch you here, you’ll get wet real fast.”

Felix does well in keeping your cunt spread while Minho flicks the pad of his finger against you. It takes everything in you not to buck off the couch again. To stop your pussy from clenching every time Minho presses down on your nub.

But just like he said, you can feel your slick sliding down your ass. The wetness must soil the plush couch underneath, but the men don’t seem to mind in the slightest. Instead, you feel Felix’s fingers mingle in the mix.

His digits are so much different from Minho’s. They’re small and much rougher, but the different textures make you find purchase on their thighs and squeeze. 

Felix giggles. “You were right, hyung. She did get wet.”

Even if it weren’t for the obvious sounds resonating in the room, it would be your moans and whines that gave away your arousal. 

“Of course I was right. Hyunjin told me all about you.” The way he says it, like a threat, it should scare you. But his ominous tone makes your eyes roll and toes curl instead.

“Told me you tasted good. He almost came his pants when his tongue was on you.”

Minho stops flicking your clit to maneuver lower. His soft fingers slide until they catch your entrance, prodding and rubbing before dipping in. 

You gasp when he enters you. You didn’t realize how desperate your cunt was to clench on something until it was pulsing around his digit. Your hips begin to rock immediately, trying to find a rhythm with his little finger wiggling inside you.

“F-fuck.” You lean on Felix’s shoulder. “Please.”

Even with your squelching and pleading, Minho slides out. His sadistic smile stays on his lips when you whine, tears in your eyes from an orgasm being pulled away. 

He raises his hand high enough for you three to see it glisten in the light. 

The slick is almost mesmerizing, their buttons locked on the sight. Minho brings the hand closer and you open with your mouth without being told to. 

“I wanna know if he was telling the truth about this too.” But instead of putting his finger on your tongue, he reaches over to Felix. 

His pink tongue is already waiting, a subtle blush on his face that makes his freckles stick out. You watch as Minho’s finger plays with his tongue, running over the smoothness of his teeth and the plushness of his lips.

Felix moans at your taste, hollowing his cheeks to suck diligently. His fingers on your cunt slow in concentration, but you’re too aroused to notice.

A string of spit and slick connects from Felix’s tongue to Minho’s finger when he pulls away. It stretches and breaks easily, causing Felix to lick his chin where it landed. 

His buttons are full of hunger. “Yeah, Min. He was telling the truth.”

Minho laughs with delight. His wet finger goes back to your cunt, rubbing harshly and quickly. 

The instant pleasure makes you mewl, drooly lips finding Felix’s is a spit-covered kiss.  You can taste yourself on him. His soft mouth makes the tangy, metallic taste sweet, tongues diving into each other’s throats.

Felix pulls away enough to speak, but your kisses attack the corners of his lips and throat as he says, “Do you wanna taste, hyung?”

Minho hums in thought, the pads of his fingers swirling over your clit torturously. Your kisses on Felix’s skin slow. You can still taste your arousal on your tongue, Minho won’t have any problem getting a taste if he kisses you now. But when his fingers dip past your hole to your rim, you know what he wants instead.

“I think I wanna play with something else.” Minho uses his free hand to pull you by your hair gently, making you face him. “How many fingers can you fit in here, kitty?”

He presses, harder and harder until the tip of his finger makes its way inside your ass. Your mouth drops at the feeling, unsure if it feels good because it’s vulnerable or because he’s touching something you know is only used for special occasions.

Minho forces them deeper, making you squeal. “How many?”

“I-I don’t know! Three? F-four?” Changbin’s cock is roughly that wide. You recall having him and Chan trying to fit both their cock in the same hole, but there wasn’t enough lube to accommodate their size. 

He moans, soft and pretty. His finger turns into two, and rather than just the tip, you feel him sink to the knuckle. All the while Felix makes sure to play with your pussy to keep your juices flowing to your ass. 

“You dirty slut. You’re perfect.” Minho doesn’t hesitate in fucking his fingers into you. They curl and rub as if it was your pussy, but with how full you are, it feels like it is. 

“Shit. Good fucking ass. You’ve taken a cock in there, haven't you?”

You nod, unable to speak. Your throat can’t do anything but moan. The sounds get even louder when Minho’s fingers slip out, opting to stand and untie his sweats. You only get a second to see his bulge before it springs out, flushed and leaking. He takes his place in front of you, holding you by the knees. 

Minho has a full view of your gaping ass, of Felix’s relentless fingers playing with your clit. You’d be shy in any other scenario, but with the taste of you still lingering on your tongue and the need in your stomach, it’s nonexistent. 

You drool when you see him stroke himself, the throbbing of his cock intensifying. You spread your legs more and let him guide his tip to your ass, holding your breath for the breach.

“You’ve never taken a dick like mine, baby. I’ll make you cum in seconds.”

Felix snorts beside you, but it sounds muffled with the blood rushing to your ears. His cock is warm entering you. Everything feels so much intensified when your ass is used. You can feel every curve and every vein inside. 

His rounded head slips in with ease, especially when Felix smears your dripping arousal down to Minho’s remaining shaft and your rim.

You choke on a sob when his pelvis is flush against you.

“Fuck yes.” Minho bares throat. His head falls back, red neck on display. “Knew you’d take it all.” Even with no eyes, his buttons seem crazed. That burgundy color turning redder by the second.

His pace is slow, still adjusting to how your walls squeeze unbelievably tight and warm. It’s easy to confuse the slick from your pussy coming from your ass instead, but it's hard not to ooze arousal with Felix rubbing you.

Your clit feels on fire. Even with nothing in your cunt, it feels like you’re stuffed beyond full. It’s puffy, swollen, and wet. Felix doesn’t stop rubbing for a second even when you let out a pleasurable scream when Minho picks up his pace.

“Oh my god.” You’re staring at the mess between your legs. “Ohmygod, ohmygod. Fuck! I’m gonna pee. Waitwaitwait.” 

You know it’s not piss, but it’s been so long since you squirted that you nearly forgot you could. The warmth in your stomach builds too fast, too overwhelming. Tipping over the edge never felt so close, yet so far. There’s nothing for your pussy to clench on. Felix’s fingers are moving too fast for your clit to throb and Minho’s cock is bruising into you at a pace that isn’t slow or quick enough.

You forgot how dreadfully good it feels to never come down from your high. To be stuck at the peak because they simply don’t care.

Chan and Changbin always made sure to have you cum over and over, but having your body spam from the lack thereof is a feeling you never want to forget again.

“Yeah?” Minho laughs. “Looks like kitty needs a little more training, huh, Felix?”

Felix yanks your shirt up, exposing your tits and making you bite the material. Saliva immediately begins to pool in the cotton, but then men are too distracted by your tits to care. 

Felix leans into your chest. “Try holding it in, yeah? Minho can be stern when he wants to be.” 

You feel his teeth clamp down on your nipple. How they think you can stop yourself from soiling the couch is laughable. Felix tugs on the peak of your breast and rubs your clit all while Minho pistons his cock in and out of your ass. 

You squirt within seconds. 

Since nothing is blocking your cunt, your arousal flows out freely. Felix’s digits only make your juices fly farther, splattering on Minho’s chest and your thighs. 

There’s a moment where you’re gasping so hard your head spins. All you can hear are the moans tumbling from your stuffed mouth and Minho’s psychotic laughter. Felix tries to help the fountain between your legs by slowing down, but his hyung doesn’t slow his thrusts at all.

“Bad fucking kitty! Now I have to cum in your ass.” His buttons lock on Felix’s. “Did I tell you to stop?”

The tiny fingers resume their harsh pace, but Felix pouts. “You’re gonna tire her out. My cock hurts too, ya know?”

Sanity glints in Minho’s buttons. It’s as if your ass was too good, making him completely forget about his roommates' needs.

He pulls out without hesitation. You groan when it slips from you, feeling like you can finally breathe. 

“Lixie. I’m such a bad hyung.” It’s the first time his voice is soft. Caring. “You want her ass?”

Felix’s fingers go to your hole, your cunt. You let out a drawled moan when his fingers wiggle their way inside. It feels so good to have your pussy filled right after squirting.

“I just want her pussy. You can still have her ass. I know that’s your favorite.”

The roommates share a laugh, talking about you like you’re nothing but a toy. All you can do is groan when they change your position. Your back aches from your legs being in the air for so long, but the pain subsides when they plant you on all fours on the couch, hovering over Felix with Minho behind you.

Felix’s cock is a little thing, so similar to Changbin’s. They don’t share the same thickness in the slightest, but you’re thankful for Felix’s size when they enter you at the same time.

Had he been any bigger, you don’t doubt that you would’ve split. The stretch is porno worthy. Your walls open easily for both of them, their cocks molding their shape inside you. Their pace is so different. Felix is getting used to the feel of your cunt for the first time whereas Minho is chasing his high. 

The thrusts from behind make you bounce on Felix’s dick. Your breasts jiggle in his face so tempting that it doesn’t take long for him to pop a nipple in his mouth.

Like before, his bites and licks encourage you to rock between them. 

Minho has a firm grip on your ass, spreading your cheeks to see his cock bury itself between them. “Your ass is so wet. Feels just like a pussy.” He stills, hips flush against you. He groans when you whimper. “Squeezes just like one too.”

This time, you know you’ll be able to cum properly. The orgasm builds in your stomach until it coils, clenching on the two cocks in warning. 

“Sh-shit.” Felix curses with your breast in his mouth. “I’mma cum already.”

“Mhm.” He grunts, fucking you earnestly. “Good set of holes.”

You choose to take that as a compliment. Your walls are gripping them so tight that it feels as though they’re fucking you in the same place. But when your chest burns and the warmth in your belly finally uncoils, you know it’s Felix’s cock you cum on.

Even though your body freezes to ooze with cream, Minho doesn’t stop. Not even as Felix howls with pleasure or you plead with overstimulation, his cock bullies into your ass until you flood with their seed.

You can’t tell whose cum is filling from where. It feels everywhere, outside and inside. You collapse on Felix’s chest, panting with exhaustion. Minho thrusts a few more times for good measure before pulling out, moaning in the process. 

Felix follows soon after, his softening cock between your and his pelvis’. The warm strings of cum pour from your holes and you feel Minho play with it. Whether or not he shoves it back into your gaping ass or cunt, you can’t tell. 

It all feels the same.

Ding. Ding.

You three jump at the sound of the doorbell. Felix and Minho share a confused look, the older grabbing his sweats and putting his legs through the pant holes. It seems that their visitor requires both of them, being that Felix slips from under you and pecks your forehead.

You suppose this is your cue to wake up.

But as they tuck their cocks away and close the curtains to the living room, you don’t wake.

Weird. 

You’re about to begin counting sheep when something black moves in the corner of your eye. It takes a few seconds for your hazy vision to focus on a cat, the only one moving sly and quickly. 

Unlike the other sculpted cats with buttons for eyes on the walls, this one has blue, normal eyes. Just like the one from the woods. 

“Hmm,” your voice is groggy. “Hannie’s got a cat like you back at home. You must be the Other cat.”

That cat narrows its eyes at you, nose up turning into a sneer. “No. I’m not the other anything. I’m me.”

You blink. Once. Twice. Your eyelids flutter in shock, but your mind is so fuzzy that you can’t be too surprised.

You’re still sleeping after all.

“I see you don’t have buttons for eyes, but if you’re the real cat, how can you speak?”

“Too many questions and not enough time,” his whiskers twitch. “They won’t be distracted for long. They don’t like me very much.”

You snort, “I find that hard to believe. They said they like cats.”

“They like things that listen. They want a pet. And I’m hardly one to behave.”

Talking takes a lot of effort. You can feel your eyelids drooping and your limbs relaxing on the couch, but you manage to peek at the kitty. “I don’t think I’d mind being their little pet every now and then.”

The cat does not laugh with you. Instead, he leaps from the shelves on the wall and quietly lands on the couch, mere inches from your tired face. 

“You probably think this world is a dream come true. But you’re wrong. If you come back here again, we won’t let you leave.”

We. A spark of anxiety lights in your chest. His piercing eyes, the only ones here besides yours, are full of truth. Something about his gaze and mannerisms screams human. “Are you really a cat?”

“I am as much as a cat as this is a dream.” His tail tickles your nose just enough to keep you awake for a few seconds. “Listen to me and do not go through the door again. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave the Pink Palace and not look back.”

Like any normal cat, he glares at you one last time. “Or don’t. Afterall, I’m just a stupid cat. Aren’t I?”

[1moreff-creator]

Corrigendum - Literature Girl Insane Analysis

Updates After CH2 PT2

More than a year ago, the entire DRDT fandom was thrown on its head when the Literature Girl Insane David MV dropped. And with the help of DRDT Tumblr for mystery finding and interpretations, about a year ago I made “A Full Vivisection of the David MV,” a two and a half hour video going over everything I could. While I still think the video mostly holds up even after CH2 PT2, there’s quite a few things that require an update. Let’s go over them, shall we?

(Is this a correct use of the word "corrigendum"? I don't know, but it's close enough for me to use given the connection to the book theme we got going on :v)

As a warning, though, this post will more or less assume that you’ve watched Vivisection, as some sections might be complete gibberish without the context of my previous interpretations of this thing.

Spoilers up to CH2. CW: Suicide, murder, hanging, CH2 execution, gun violence, blood

I’ll go through the recontextualizations in order of appearance in the MV, though first: 

Footnote 14 Solution, Tally 5 Correction

So these two things aren’t related to Part 2, but instead codes already in LGI. Since Vivisection came out, the footnote 14/Roman numeral I code got solved, and I’ve been informed that the solution for tally 5 I hinted at in the video was, while not wrong in the sense that you could arrive at the code using it, not the actually intended solution. Basically I said to pay attention to line breaks, when you’re actually supposed to ignore them, and that meant that one character had to be ignored when in reality the real solution works perfectly fine without ignoring it. Sorry, the line break thing was just commonly repeated advice given on Tumblr at the time and I don’t know why I never double checked how accurate it was :v

The proper solutions can be found in my Secrets Masterpost, so I won’t repeat them here. The Roman numeral I code, attached to Xander via crosswords, returned “I have always looked up to you,” which is perfectly in line with both the things David states in 2-12 and the conclusions drawn about how he feels towards Xander from the MV. As for tally 5, that will be addressed later. 

Yoidore Shirazu Lyrics

Another thing that happened was the release of the Elliot MV, Yoidore Shirazu. While the MV itself is not particularly for our purposes, I'm bringing it up to double check a thing with the lyrics.

You might remember that a big chunk of Vivisection was informed by "Language Theory," the idea that some lyrics' translations were specifically changed to fit better with David. This was supported by footnote 5, "As the translation has been intentionally botched in many parts, it should not be considered accurate," as well as the fact that Coleena Wu was listed in the credits, meaning her translation was used as a base for the David MV even though there were many differences between the David MV's lyrics and her version.

Thus, when I saw that Yoidore Shirazu credited Magenetra for the English lyrics, I figured I'd check if it happened again. And yes, there are a few lines here and there where the Elliot version is slightly different from the original translation. While I won't get into all of them in this post, a particularly notable change is "my muddy, obstructed and broken vision of the future, it's not half bad" in the original changing to "my muddy, obstructed, broken future, it's not half bad" in the Elliot MV, for example.

What does this tell us about the David MV? Well, I would argue that if dev decided to change a few lyrics in an MV where word placement isn't as important as in LGI, presumably just to make them fit better with Elliot or because dev just prefers certain wording (I don't see any other reasons the translation would be different), then it's very possible that they also consciously changed a few LGI lines to fit better with David. Maybe. In other words, I believe this is an extra argument to the validity of Language Theory, though I could also see it as an argument against ("maybe dev just doesn't care about sticking so close to the translations they use") :v

Now let’s actually go from the start of the MV to the end, shall we?

Color Connection Theory: Orange

In Vivisection, I said (words more words less) that while in a vacuum orange would probably go to Ace, the context of some of the lines seemed to fit Xander better, with the argument that the trailer for the series assigns orange as the color of the first letter of Xander’s name in a hypothetical class trial. The main argument was that Orange “that guy” appeared next to Green “this guy” (Hu/Teruko, leaning Hu) and Black “you” (possibly Mai), and lumping Ace in with characters who seemed much more important than him at the time seemed… strange.

Since then, Ace has gained a notable amount of importance to this particular part of the story, given the whole blackened thing. As a result, I would argue his inclusion as Orange is now more likely than Xander’s. Take a look at the start of the first chorus, for example, and you’ll see that putting Xander as red (which would be redundant if he’s also orange) makes for a nice, neat reading in the context of this trial.

[Literature Girl Insane] Even if you cry, make noise, shout, go mad the world won’t change!

Arei: “Even if you cry about hurting Eden, you’ll still always be a horrible person.”

Hu: “Even if you make noise to make yourself useful, you’re still the same hopeless child who attempted suicide three times.”

Ace: “Even if you shout, you’ll always be a coward.”

Xander: “Even if you go mad, you’ll always be a good person at heart.”

“No matter what, you people (the world) won’t change.”

What a lovely worldview David has! 

There’s also this instance, "let's play!":

[Literature Girl Insane] With anonymous hopes let's play!

Which makes sense given Ace is “playing the killing game” by… killing in the game. Foreshadowing or am I insane? These are not mutually exclusive. 

Hand Holding

dev why /affectionate

So, yeah. Arei holds David’s hand the same way Ideal Country Woman does. At least we’ve got near 100% confirmation that the weird line of white pixels is not a glove or anything, but rather a bend of the wrist as expected. 

Now we have to ask what Arei’s connection to this mess is. Thankfully, I can at least draw a connection between Arei and the surrounding context of the scene, so we’re not going in completely blind. As a reminder, here’s the interpretation I arrived at for the “tunnel scene” that directly precedes Miss Hand Holding’s appearance.

[Extract from Vivisection] David gives Xander the order to "escape the tunnel," so open himself up to love others. However, "but," loving David is a bad idea, because he's a monster who's better off dead. His opinion, right? So he asks himself, where should Xander escape? "Where to?" In other words, who should Xander like and be friends with?

The connection to Arei should be more or less clear, provided you replace Xander's name with her. There’s two ways to take it. Arei opened herself up to David, “escaped the tunnel on his direction” per say. And given what happened directly after, you could say it led to a “disastrous scene.” Alternatively, if David genuinely wanted to accept Arei’s proposal to be “less shitty together,” if he “escaped the tunnel in Arei’s direction,” that too could be considered a “disastrous scene” because Arei died. That one’s admittedly a pretty big if, butconsidering some of the stuff David says…

David [2-10]: Unless, of course, you were Arei. That girl wanted desperately to prove herself as a "friend" to Eden. And yet she completely lacked any experience with what "friends" were actually like. [...] What could she know about "friendship," after all? Someone like her, who had not once experienced kindness in her entire life up until now? [...] [Breaking down] It's... It's so... Ahaha. It's just so foolish. For someone to take advantage of Arei like that... It's absolutely unforgivable. All she wanted was to change. What a reprehensible person this killer is. I look forward to seeing their painful execution.

Yeah he might have cared. 

So, okay, Arei can be connected to the surrounding context so this isn’t completely out of left field, but we still have the possibility of a further connection to the Mystery Girl. As you might recall, this girl is either Diana Chiem (based on certain similarities with David and because revealing Ms Naegi like this would be weird) or Ms Naegi (because Diana isn’t in the Cast List, while Naegi is). I don’t see any immediate connections to Naegi, so we’re left with Diana, who also has little connection.

Of course, the number one takeaway is that Arei reminds David of Diana (or Ms Naegi) in some way, so we can infer Mystery Girl might have supported David despite knowing about his manipulative nature, especially possible since she's positioned in the MV in a way where she's the "(so-called) ideal country." I'm about to ramble a whole lot more about other possibilities, but this is probably what we're meant to get from this.

If we’re allowing a small amount of unhingedness, another connection that could be drawn is between Arei’s family situation and David’s. Arei also had sisters, but they treated her horribly until Arei ruined their lives. Translated to Diana, this could mean that David treated her badly, that she did something to harm him, or both. If their relationship turned bad during Hope’s Peak time, it could explain why Footnote David, presumed to be David before losing his memories, claims she doesn’t exist, when Killing Game David speaks about her openly. Did he try to cut ties with her or something, and tries to pretend she doesn’t exist? Again, unhinged and probably not what the takeaway is meant to be, but we know less than zero about Diana, so it's not impossible.

Alternatively, though, it's worth noting that Mystery Girl and Arei tilt their heads in opposite directions, which could symbolize they're opposites in a way. Taken with the previous interpretations, this could mean either Mystery Girl supported David without knowing about his motive secret (opposite of interpretation 1), or that Arei's family situation is opposite Diana's, aka David had a good relationship with his sister (opposite of interpretation 2).

But speaking of insane, would you believe me if I told you that this visual similarity could, alternatively, be evidence for literally the most unhinged theory in the entire Vivisection? That is, the ridiculous deduction which is arrived at by analyzing the objects in the “suspicious gaps” attached to footnote 11, “I admit to lying. There is no one named OOOOO OOOOO. I am, and always have been, an only child," as well as the Catch-22 quote that comes directly after. Full explanation in Vivisection, but here’s the theory. 

[Extract from Vivisection]  So, first, I think the footnote is a double lie. David's lying about lying. He does actually have a sister but, for some reason, he's trying to deny it. He's pulling an Arturo: something happened with his sister, and he's trying to distance himself from it. That's where the snake with the blood and the safe come in, with the rope possibly implying a suicide. Remember the family history of depression? [...] So, it's possible Diana died. [...] It's also possible that whatever happened to Diana would have been hinted at in David's motive video. [...] Yeah, that's my explanation for the TV. But, why would this bad thing which happened to Diana be in David's motive video? That would imply David doesn't remember it. That's what the Snowden line could mean. [...]

Yeah remember that insane thing? Well, Arei died by hanging, so it’s possible Diana also died by hanging, aka suicide. This connection doesn’t make the theory any less unhinged, but it’s there. 

I hate the things I love, and I love the things I hate

As a refresher, this screen is about Xander, indicated mainly by the references to electrocution literally framing the scene. Nothing’s actually changed here, mind you, I just wanted to point out that it’s interesting that so far, we’ve only seen David talk about Xander with love, and we haven’t really seen the whole “I hate” part yet. Curious to see how that will develop later.

suspicious gaps

Still zero clue, I’m just putting it here because it’s still killing me.

V. Right now, why do you go insane? [Ace's numeral]

We should’ve known, guys… Ace’s numeral is literally right next to Arei’s (IV), not just in song position, but numerically. Incidentally, that means both killers so far have been in multiples of five (Min with X, Ace with V), so, uh, Whit (XV), anything you wanna tell us about CH3?

(I don’t think he’ll be the CH3 killer I’m just being silly :p)

Anyways, the big update here is related to the background text, “a cat has 9 additional lives.” This was already pointed out by treescanfly, and that is that Thanatophobia, Ace’s execution, featured 9 different execution methods (scythe - illness - fire - falling - murder - drowning - lightning - firing squad (execution)). Looks like horseboy really was a catboy all along!

XIII. or [not to be?] [Teruko's numeral]

The interpretation of the quote itself, that it’s a reference to Teruko’s suicidal tendencies, hasn’t changed. It’s only gotten more explicit.

Teruko [2-16]: Killed? I doubt it. As if something so kind could happen to me.

:(

Not much else here, though it seems Teruko might start rejecting the suffering associated with being the Omelas child given her talk with DefaultTV, so that’s fun.

Footnote 6, “[Prayer]”

So what I’m about to say is technically a connection that existed since LGI’s realease, but was just a bit too insane for me to even think about back then. 

Basically, you know how Mai is referred to as a “God” in this video, because of her numeral and the arrow? Well… what if that’s connected to this footnote? And, I don’t know, Min is praying to Mai?

Again, unhinged even for my standards, but with the confirmation that XF-Ture Tech is in some form behind the killing game… anything that puts Min in a weirdly plot relevant position (such as inexplicably having a Mai connection beyond what we saw in Bonus Episode 1) should be at least written down for posterity, if nothing else. 

That's my way of saying- Please write about Min, guys. I miss her :(

Footnote 12

“Majority rule” is known to be the fairest method of making decisions for a group. That's why murderers never complained when we voted for them to die.

In Vivisection, I primarily argued the meaning of this footnote through the lens that David may have genuinely believed he had driven Arei to suicide, and thus believed he was the blackened. This turned out to be horribly wrong, so we course correct. 

Instead, this simply seems to be what David was hoping would happen when he pulled out the magical girl transformation, albeit stylized with an impossible 16 people vote. The screen that flashes after just seems to reflect what David thinks would actually happen if a blackened won, or just what will happen by the end of the killing game no matter what: “Everyone will be executed.” That’s based on this line:

David [2-12]: 15 lives. Some of them are very dear to you. And your own life as well. Is there anything at all that could be more important to you than those 16 human lives?

Where David talks about sacrificing the full 16 lives of the participants, seemingly without taking into account that the blackened wouldn’t actually die in his plan. Because of that, it’s inferred that David doesn’t actually think the blackened would survive even if they won the trial. 

Other than that, the footnote seems to just be a direct reference to what Teruko says in the trial:

Teruko [2-15]: We determine who lives and who dies by a majority vote. In other words, the opinion of everyone who *isn't* you.

Which, uh... makes things easier, so I'm not gonna read into it much further :v

“What is the most important thing?” / Mistaken alphabet

Still no idea what these two things are about, that’s why I’m bringing them up :v

Original

[Extract from Vivisection] So, what I think is the best idea is that all the characters [referring to Color Theory] got the word. [...] I think it makes more sense to relate them to the meaning of "original style" under my interpretation, where "original style" means a change of heart.

The interpretation from Vivisection seems to hold strong, as MonoTV did actually have a “change of heart” of sorts, albeit brief. Hey we take the Ws where we can get them >:D

Two Eyed Xander

The theory discussed in Vivisection that David might hold memories from Hope’s Peak times was seemingly debunked by a tweet from the dev, even if the thread referenced in the link was later deleted. I did say in Vivisection that I didn’t believe the theory even if it was cool, so… we’re chilling. 

Of course, though, we did get confirmation that David knew about Xander before Hope's Peak, so the appearance of Xander with two eyes was meaningful! Cool!

Correct/Incorrect (Tally 5)

This is going to discuss the unlisted video linked in the footnotes of Vivisection, which I am well aware most of you probably didn’t watch given the view count. In any case, the thing I said there, which I also said in my Mai post, was that tally 5 could imply David had been involved in the weird revolution against Hope’s Peak that Xander and Mai had going on. While this is still certainly possible, given what was said in 2-12, it seems more plausible that tally 5 actually references David taking on Xander’s dream during the killing game.

David [2-12]: I don't care how low I'll sink, or how despicable I'll have to become. I'll do anything to carry on Xander's ideals by ending this killing game, even if it means I have to dirty my hands.

Yeah, the dream of killing everyone, that one. I say this not only because we know David “threw away his humanity” for it, but also because the image itself shows David holding Xander’s jacket, which would imply this is being said after Xander’s death. Thus, during the killing game. 

Numeral IX - Look, aside from that, give me the usual medicine [Levi's numeral]

Well, he sure needs medicine alright! Yeah that’s the best answer I currently have about what in the hell this numeral means, so we’re going with this. 

That said, points to Vivisection me, because the “Levi is Jupiter protecting Earth from asteroids” interpretation ended up being pretty solid. 

Clock Fork

You know, the theory that Eden was the one to rip out Xander’s eye based on the clock in LGI existed before I made Vivisection, I just… didn’t invlude it. The one unhinged theory I don’t mention ends up being true, huh? Well, there’s that. Not much else to say, if you're deep into DRDT lore you already know the implications of a bloody fork.

-

And… that’s about that! Although I had quite a few comments to make and things to add, actual corrections were few and far between, which I’m happy about! Mind you, there's probably a few Vivisection statements here and there I'm forgetting about, but still. Hope you enjoyed this little corrigendum, and if you made it this far, you deserve your own Jupiter-Levi to defend you in your time of need! See you later!

[lily-fics-11]

Good Luck, Babe! Part 1 (Ellie Williams, TLOU)

Good Luck, Babe!

Part 1 (Part 2 here)

(Inspired by Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan)

@dynsdiary made a post about Ellie x closet!reader Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan and I couldn’t go to sleep without writing it, so this is not super well edited

Word count: 1.2k 

CW: Angst, profanities, allusions to sex, internalized homophobia, drinking, not well edited

After spending another night with Ellie you slip out of her bed while she’s still asleep, around sunrise, like you always do.

The feelings you have for Ellie Williams are undeniably strong, but you won’t let yourself take things further than your sexually explicit kind of love affair. You are straight. “I just needed a little lovin’,” you reassure yourself every time she has you moaning her name.

The feelings you have for Ellie Williams are confusing. Undeniably strong, but you won’t let yourself take things further than your sexually explicit kind of love affair. You are straight. “I just needed a little lovin’,” you reassure yourself every time she has you moaning her name.

*****

Waiting for your drink at the bar, a mere 12 hours later, you feel an arm slip around your waist. Your head snaps around to see Ellie’s mischievous grin emerald eyes. You push her away from you and hiss “not here Ellie, not in front of these people, not in front of anyone.”

Ellie looks heartbroken, running her hand through her auburn hair and averting her eyes. “You know I cry when you leave without saying goodbye. It’s not fair.” She whispers in distress. That rips your heart in two. A vulnerable Ellie is an extremely rare occurrence. Ellie deserves so much better than this but you are too selfish to let her go. “Can we please talk about this?” She begs.

“Fine, but not right now.” You promise her and she looks relieved. You instruct her to find you before she leaves and she bites back a smile before disappearing into the crowd. Thoughts of Ellie consume you for the rest of the night. The loud music isn’t enough to drown it out so you come up with a different plan. 

You find the most eligible bachelor in the bar and bet him a kiss if he can beat you at darts, knowing you wouldn’t win. You are more than happy to oblige when one of his objectively attractive friends wants to make the same deal. 

Approaching the poker table without any cash, you put in 5 kisses to the winner as your buy in instead of the $5 they were asking for. 

About three drinks in, you tell one of your close guy friends that you would finally give him the chance he has always wanted with you. If he could take the most shots in 30 seconds. You know he could out drink you on your best day, and he celebrates his victory with a passionate make out session against the wall in a dark corner. When you finally pull away from him you stumble out of the bar and sit on the curb, you need a little air.

Ellie is the only thing on your mind, she has anchored herself there and held on through every forced kiss. Sitting in the curb, at first you think you are imagining her beautifully familiar laugh. When you look up and see that she is actually there, she rolls her eyes. “You are so cliche.” 

“Who cares?” You reply nonchalantly with a smirk and you can see a darkness grown in her eyes as she is overcome by anger. 

“What the hell were you doing in there?” She snaps.

You bat your eyes at her the way you always do, hoping it will calm her down. “I’m just having a good time.”

Your flirty disposition does nothing to soften her anger. “Right in front of my face? With this…this thing between us?”

“Ellie I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again, there is nothing between us. We are not together. We are nothing,” you remind her.

“You know what, it’s fine.” She spats. “It’s cool. I may be a fool but I know that you know the truth. Make a new excuse, another stupid reason. I know how I feel about you, and I can’t do this anymore.” Ellie turns to walk away and you grab her hand. “I don’t want to call it off!”

“But you don’t want to call it love!” She yells at you.

“Ellie please keep it down, we aren't the only ones out here.”

She obviously doesn’t care. “You can tell me you want that, why can’t you tell me what you really want?!”

You squint your eyes, growing irritable and raising your voice. “I’ve told you what I want, so please, tell me what you think I want.”

“You only wanna be the one that I call “baby”.” Ellie tells you as she kicks a rock. 

You stand up. “So what if I like being called “baby” by you? So what if I have feelings I don’t want to admit? That doesn’t mean I’m going to throw my life away. This is just the way I am. I will do whatever it takes to fight the feeling.”

Ellie gets right up in your face. “You can say that’s just the way you are, but do you really think this is a battle you can win? You came onto me. I see the way that you look at me. I’ve heard the sounds you make when I touch you and I’ve listened to you beg for more. Go ahead, you can kiss a hundred boys in bars. I’ve seen the way you cringe away from them.”

“I just get nervous.” You roll your eyes and take a step back. “Nothing a few drinks can’t fix.”

“You’ve had plenty to drink. But feel free to shoot another shot to try to stop the feeling. Eventually you’ll drink yourself to death and that’s the only way you are going to escape.” Ellie has never been so harsh with you and her words hit you like a freight train. 

“I would stop the whole world if it meant I could stop this feeling!” You cry out, on the verge of tears.

“That’s not how it works, babe. I can see it all now. You, in the years, with some sad excuse for a husband and a couple of bratty kids. You’ll wake up next to him in the middle of the night and look over at him in disgust. Put your head in your hands and cry because you are nothing more than his wife. You are going to think about me, all of those years ago, and want to sneak out on him while he sleeps, like you always did to me. Oh how the tables will have turned. But you won’t leave. You are too proud to come face to face with I told you so. You know that I would hate to say it, but all I would be able to say is ‘I told you so’.”

The tears start to fall, you can’t hold them back any longer. “Fine Ellie. I’ll admit it. I don’t want to be stuck with some man for the rest of my life.”

She crosses her arms. “I think I’m going to call this off.”

You try to plead with her. “Please don’t do this to me Ellie. I just wanna love someone who calls me ‘baby’. You call me baby. Would you still leave if I called this love?”

“Even if you call it love.”

You literally get down on your knees to beg. “Please Ellie!” You sob pathetically.

She backs away from you, and her face is saying that this hurts her more than it’s hurting you. “Good luck, babe.”

Update: Someone mentioned wanting a happy ending and I had so much fun writing this, so I will be writing a part 2! If you are here for the angst you can end here but a happy ending will be coming soon in part 2!

[mangoshorthand]

Inspired by this post. When your daughter is eight years old, Five organises a family trip to County Clare, Ireland. His reasons why are completely transparent.

The Changeling | Five Hargreeves/Reader, Five Hargreeves & 8 y/o daughter Words: 7.7k

GIF by: @seance

It was Aoife’s first flight, and it was only through Five’s gentle persuading that you were convinced that it would be safe. At eight, he said, she was more than old enough to listen and control herself.

Still, just before you boarded, you knelt down in front of her and took her by the elbows. 

“Aoife, listen to me, honey.”

She blinked at you with Five’s eyes. She looked the picture of innocence, and if you didn’t know better, you might have been taken in.

“You cannot blink on this flight. You can’t blink on this trip at all unless it’s just me and Daddy in the room, but you especially can’t blink on the plane, okay?”

“Okay Mommy,” she said, sulkily.

“Seriously,” you said, giving her a gentle shake, “If you misjudge it by just a tiny amount, you could end up outside the plane. You could fall and die.”

Aoife looked up at Five for backup but didn’t find it. He put a hand on her shoulder with a stern look that was uncharacteristic when aimed at her.

“Your mother’s right, cara. This is life and death. And even if you try it and don’t die, we’re going to go straight back home again as soon as we land. There will be no trip at all. You hear me?”

“I didn’t even do anything yet!” she said, indignantly.

“Yes, and I’m sure you won’t because you’re my good, sensible girl,” you said, hoping she’d live up to the label. 

“I’m just making sure you understand what’s at stake here, kid.” Five said, “ Non sto scherzando . Now, repeat it back: tell me what’s gonna happen if you blink.”

“I’ll die,” she said, with petulant impatience.

“And if you blink but don’t die?”

“No trip,” she repeated.

“Correct,” Five said, “we won’t even leave the airport. We’ll turn right around and get on the next flight home.”

“I know you’ll be a good girl,” you said, kissing her on the nose, “you always are, aren’t you?”

You kissed once, twice and three times until her pout was replaced with a smile. 

As it happened, once the initial excitement of being airborne had worn off, Aoife fell asleep almost immediately, the early morning catching up with her. She was leaning against you, chest rising and falling slowly, and would remain so for all but the last hour of the flight. 

Five was also quiet, staring out of the window at clouds in the odd light of changing time zones. 

Ever since suggesting the trip, he’d been a closed book. He was still himself - still loving, and still every inch the husband and father you knew -  but he was more insular, more like he was before you got married; keeping the internal workings of his mind under wraps. 

With Aoife against you, you couldn’t reach out to offer him any physical affection, so instead, you spoke to him over her head.

“You okay, sweet guy?”

He looked over at you and plastered on a smile that didn’t hide his impatience with the question.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

You pulled a face at him, one that told him you weren’t an idiot. He didn’t exactly need to tell you for you to guess what this trip was really about. 

Five couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed by your knowing look. It was galling to know he no longer held any mysteries for you. He leaned his head against the plane’s wall and closed his eyes. 

It wasn’t that he was shutting you out, it was more from a strong sense that this was something he had to do alone. 

It came up in therapy a couple of times. Maybe it was his age, or maybe it was being a father, but he found himself coming back to this idea of history. Aoife’s family tree on his side was more of a hedge: extremely wide but only one generation tall. He wanted to give her an anchoring in this world beyond a strange experiment by a billionaire that resulted in her mentally unstable father.

On his mentioning these feelings, Dr Daley asked him whether it was possible he was projecting, but Five dismissed this.

To him, being Irish by birth didn’t mean much. It might explain his liking for Guinness, but that was about it. And who didn’t like Guinness? 

No. If he’d grown up in Ireland, he’d be a completely different person, as alien to him now as anyone else. For better or worse, Five was the sum total of his experiences. If Reginald was his father along with the harsh life he’d offered, then the apocalypse and all its horrors may as well be his mother. 

The woman who’d birthed him sold him for a couple of grand. He couldn’t imagine it as he glimpsed Aoife out of the corner of his eye. The first time he held his newborn daughter was transformative. He’d felt his entire world crash down and reform around her. He knew she was his on an animal level that left reason entirely behind. His very skin cried out for her.

And yet…childbirth was a bloody, agonizing mess. He’d watched you go through it, and it wasn’t exactly trauma free, even after months of mental preparation.The idea of it happening, all in the space of a few minutes, to women who had no mental preparation was nothing short of horrifying. Now he thought about it, it was amazing that so many of the other October 1st children seemed to have been kept.

But still, when he looked at Aoife, he couldn’t help but wonder. 

He looked up again, and caught your too-understanding eyes. This time, he smiled at you,  irritation giving way to affection. Over ten years you’d grown to know him better than he knew himself. You’d been there for every step as he tried to rebuild his mental health, every tough therapy session, every new drug, and every addition to his laundry list of diagnoses.

You’d known what this was about as soon as he mentioned the trip.

“Can you get the week commencing the 12th October off work?” he’d said, over his cereal one morning, around six months ago.

“I think so,” you said, surprised, “why?”

“We’re going to Ireland.”

“What?” you said, and then, “What about school?”

“They’ll be fine. Call it an educational trip,” he said, “We’ll have Aoife do a project or something.”

“What brought this on?” 

He shrugged, and the way he looked down at a newspaper on the table gave you the distinct impression he was trying to avoid your eye.

“I’ve booked seven nights in County Clare, staying in this huge castle. Dates back to the 17th Century. Aoife’s gonna lose her mind.”

You studied him for a few moments as he sipped his coffee, eyes stock-still on the newspaper, not really reading it.

“Weren’t you born in County Clare?” you asked, gently.

“Mmhm,” he replied, blandly, turning a page.

You waited, and when he didn’t elaborate, you just stuck out a hand and laid it on his forearm. *** When you arrived at Shannon airport, it was raining. It rained like a veil of mist, pin-pricking your faces in a moist cloud of chill wind. It was mid morning, though the foggy skies made it indistinguishable from any other time of day. It made Five glad of his coat, and he paused outside the terminal to zip it to his chin. 

Aoife rubbed her eyes and looked around at the gray, concrete parking lot

“Where are we going?” she asked, in sleepy confusion.

“Not far,” you said, squeezing her hand as Five wheeled your luggage.

The rented Skoda estate was comfortable enough, although not what Five would prefer to be driving. Still, it did the job. As you helped Aoife strap into a booster seat, he had to concede that, on unfamiliar roads, it was more important that style give way to safety.

The thought made him smile to himself as he loaded the luggage into its roomy, sensible trunk. Sometimes it still seemed odd to find himself having such daddish thoughts. It was odd, but good too. 

The environs of the airport faded into the misty rain behind you, and you very soon found yourselves in country that more naturally sprang to mind when you imagined Ireland. 

The landscape was mostly flat and green, damp fields stretching out to the horizon on every side. Short but lush trees and hedges lined the dual carriageway, occasionally leading to taller trees and more advanced woodland, but it mostly served to insulate the surrounding farmland from the road. 

“Do you think there are fairies in those woods?” you asked Five, conversationally, eyeing Aoife out of the corner of your eye. 

“Hm,” Five said, playing along, “It’s possible.”

“Fairies?” Aoife said, her interest piqued as you intended. 

“That’s right,” he said, “there are lots of stories of fairies in Ireland.”

“Will we see some?”

“Probably not,” you smiled, “but it’s fun to pretend.”

As you got deeper into the countryside, stone walls ran along the roadside. Every few miles or so, the fields gave way to the occasional, squat house; all rendered in white with gray slate roofs. They were small, asymmetrical; clearly built for function over form. Once or twice a chimney smoked, bringing with it the smell of peat smoke on the air. 

As you traveled, the sun started to cut through the haze, although the rain didn’t let up, coming down in those same misty clouds. The trees began to thicken, until the land on one side of the road was completely obscured with woodland. At last, you came to a grand iron gate. 

“We’re here.” 

Aoife shuffled excitedly in the booster, trying to peek out from behind the passenger seat to see ahead.

You passed a gatehouse, and soon the thick trees gave way to a simple avenue, leading you up a drive surrounded by lush lawns, upon which small brown rabbits were dotted, those nearest the drive lolloping away from the skoda as it crunched along the gravel.

Aoife was predictably excited by these, and it took some stern words from you to stop her removing her seatbelt and blinking from the car to chase them.

But as you rounded a corner and Ballycarnane castle became visible across the small lake surrounding it on two sides, the rabbits were completely forgotten.

“Look!” she said, in high-pitched awe, “It’s a castle!”

“So it is,” Five said, as if only just noticing it.

It was huge, robust, and square in formation, built with solid gray stone with battlements topping sturdy towers on rising ground. Fountains, trimmed hedges and perfectly mower-lined lawns decorated its immediate environs. At the top of the tallest tower, an Irish flag flew. 

“Is there a princess in there?” Aoife asked, breathlessly, kicking the back of your seat in her glee. 

“Ci sarà presto, cara.” Five said, quietly, a smile playing about his face. 

“Are we staying near here? Can we go visit? Please?”

You looked at Five. He was loving this, you knew, as much as he tried to hide his self-satisfied smile. He gave you the nod to deliver the final bombshell. He was always sweet that way: his daughter’s glee was all the reward he needed. He didn’t need to take the credit too.

“We’re staying right here.” you said. 

“IN THE CASTLE?”

“That’s right,” you chuckled.

Aoife exploded, letting out a series of shrill shrieks that made both you and her father wince.

“Ouch,” you said, at the redoubled kicks to the back of your seat. 

“ WE’RE STAYING IN A CASTLE!”

“Esatto, principessa,” Five replied, pulling into one of the parking spots, “and it’s a very fancy place, so best behavior, okay? You gotta act just like a real princess.”

“CAN I WEAR A PRINCESS DRESS?”

“We’ll see,” you said, “now calm down , sweetie.” *** The next couple of days passed in a blur of sight-seeing, fairy-hunting and princess games. You and Five made excellent ladies in waiting, or else the king and queen, knights, or whatever else Aoife decreed.

Always unable to resist giving his daughter anything she asked for, Five bought not one, but two princess dresses from the ridiculously overpriced boutique attached to the hotel. He also returned with a beautiful, pure silk dressing gown for you, although you suspected this was partly to buy you off after spoiling Aoife.

It was mid-afternoon on Wednesday, you and Five stood on the lawn watching as Aoife tripped over her grass-stained skirts as she climbed a tree stump just for the joy of jumping off. 

“I think I’m going to walk into town,” he said, casually.

You looked at him. 

“Into town?”

“Yes.”

He caught your eye, and his expression was unreadable enough to be perfectly legible to you.

He stood a little apart from you, hands in the pockets of his corduroy trousers. He looked unlike himself, standing there in sturdy walking boots and a thick, oversized cable knit sweater over a flannel shirt. His hair played around his face in the slight breeze, masking and then revealing his face. 

He looked into your eyes, and you saw the grim determination there.

“Do you want us to come with you?” you asked.

“No,” he said, calmly, “you enjoy yourselves here. I’ll be back before sundown.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, approaching him and putting a hand on his upper arm.

“Yes darling,” he said, calmly. 

You understood. Five’s tendency to try and face things alone was a habit born of the apocalypse. He was insular; self reliant to an unhealthy degree, but you suspected that this wasn’t like this. 

This was no impending apocalypse, this was something intensely personal. Processing it himself was no bad thing. This was about him, and part of you knew that he was only standing here at all because he had the security of knowing you’d be there, whenever he was ready to let you in; be it tonight, tomorrow, or months from now. 

“Okay,” you said with a reassuring smile. *** It was a four mile walk from the castle itself into Ballycarnane. He walked almost as the crow flew, across fields; down farm lanes and public footpaths; through wooden gates that creaked with age. The rain spat occasionally, and even the hood of his coat couldn’t keep it from blowing into his eyes. 

As he walked, he couldn’t let his mind drift: it was caught in the features of the landscape, keeping him present in every step. He was struck by the wilderness of it all, even as its habitation was constantly declared by the presence of tarmac and the occasional lonely dwelling.

He tramped over damp gorse and heather, taking detours whenever the ground became too marshy to walk on. His walking boots were good quality and supportive, but that didn’t mean he needed to brave the outskirts of a bog when he could retreat to serpentine, single track roads. 

He’d thought the land was relatively flat when he arrived yesterday, but no sooner had the marshy areas fallen behind him as he walked into rugged, rocky countryside, dotted with pine woods.

This might have been his home, he mused. He might have been familiar with this environment, these roads and the ever-present stone walls, as sturdy as they appeared ramshackle. How might he have spent his childhood? This rain on his face, these clouds above him. Green as far as the eye could see. 

Gradually, more and more signs of habitation sprung up around him: the roads became fractionally wider, the houses more varied and frequent as he approached the outskirts of the town. Now he was on streets, the hedges neatly kept, and there were road markings too, single tracks leading onto dual carriageways. 

At last, he passed a sign welcoming him to the town proper, and he began to pass others bustling around him, speed humps, housing estates, white vans and churches. A woman with a stroller thanked him quietly as he stood aside off the sidewalk to let her pass.

He passed a convenience store, an undertakers, a shop selling fancy cheese and wine, and then he saw it: across from a pub was a butcher’s shop. 

Though many of the shops and houses on Ballycarnane’s main street were painted in bright colors, and many other buildings were of the dull concrete variety he’d grown used to back home, the default building style in this area seemed to be those single story, white rendered buildings with those gray roof tiles. His mother’s butcher’s shop was one of these, with a large window displaying wares. 

Below the building’s blue gables, a mural on the outside of the building depicted a cow, sheep and pig. To Five’s mind, they looked inappropriately happy to be depicted, given the context. Above them, in hand-painted italics read: ‘ Jones Family Butchers’, beneath them, ‘ Est.1979’.

He knew her name was Efa Jones, but seeing the name was odd. He was here. *** “Okay, princess Aofie,” you called, as Five’s figure retreated down the gravel drive, “we’re going to get started on your school project.”

“But Mooommy,” she said, gesturing to the tree stump as if there were depths to its joys she had as yet not discovered. 

“What if we did it about the fairies of Ballycarnane?”

Aoife still looked skeptical.

“You remember John from this morning?”

Aoife nodded. She had exchanged a hearty conversation about the rabbits and deer that roamed the grounds with the old man working as the hotel’s senior concierge.

“Well, he told me there’s a fairy fort nearby. You want to go?”

“Yeah!” she said, enthusiastically, jumping from the tree stump one final time, bounding towards you taking your hand. 

“And,” you continued, setting off, “he said once we’d been to go and find him, and he'd tell us a story all about it. If you write his story down and draw some pictures, that can be your project to show Mx Leyton.”

*** Five finished his third Guinness. 

He’d been nursing the beers for over two hours, looking out of grimy windows into the butcher’s shop across the way. He could see movement within, but no detail. Only two or three customers had been in and out in all the time he watched. 

The pub was a spit and sawdust kind of place. The Weaver’s Inn had a cheap paneling on the walls, mismatched dark wood chairs and a carpet that looked like it hadn’t been changed since before the butcher’s shop was established. 

On a Wednesday daytime in October, there had been only one other patron when he arrived, an old man who looked at him with slight suspicion as he entered, but now, as five o’clock drew nearer, people began to trickle in, and there were over five tables occupied. 

He looked into the bottom of his glass. It was now or never.

He recognised her from the newspaper clipping he found as soon as he walked into the store. She must have been pushing seventy, only five or six years younger than himself. 

Her back was bent into a painful curve over her butcher’s block, though she scrubbed at the salted wood with her metal-bristled brush with more than enough vigor. As his entrance caused a bell above the door to give a little trill, she looked up. 

Her wrinkled face was dominated by a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, white hair scraped back beneath a hairnet. Her brown eyes were slightly misty with the beginnings of cataracts.

“It’s just the pre-cut now,” she said, nodding towards the block, “you’ve left it late.”

“No problem,” Five said, watching her lay down her brush with the air of one not keen to be interrupted. 

He approached the counter slowly, forcing himself to look down through the glass at the meat on display. 

“What’ll you have?”

She exuded a stern, no nonsense attitude. Customer service might be in her job, but not in her nature, it seemed. 

“Uh,” Five said, uncharacteristically unsure, “steak,” he said, suddenly.

“What type and how much” she prompted, approaching the counter. 

“Uh-” he said again.

“Tourist, are you?” she said, shrewdly.

All the Irish accents he’d heard until now were lilting, but hers lilted differently. 

“Is it that obvious?” Five smiled, looking back down at the counter.

“American?” she asked, as if it were an accusation. 

“Yup.”

“Staying at the castle, I’ll bet.”

“Correct.”

“Sure. You’ve got that silver-spoon look about you.”

Five let out something halfway between a chuckle and a scoff.

“Well, you might say I landed on my feet.”

“You telling me they let you cook steak in those fancy bedrooms?” she asked, skeptically.

Five shifted uncomfortably. She was inconveniently shrewd. 

He guessed he knew where he got it from. 

“We’re self-catering,” he lied, and then, as it came into his thoughts, “I’d say you’re not local yourself, Efa.”

“How d’you know my name?” she asked, suspiciously. 

Shit.

“The bartender at the Weavers Inn,” he said, with a tight smile - she had him on his toes in the way few people could manage - “I told him I wanted a good steak and he said you were the lady to talk to.”

She rolled her eyes. 

“That’s as nice as Liam Moore’s been about me in thirty years,” she muttered “So my beef’s good enough for out-of-towners but not good enough supply his dive of a pub?”

 But then, in answer to his question:

“You’ve got a good ear. I was born in Caerphilly.”

“Wales?” he asked, unable to hide his surprise.

“Wales indeed,” she said briskly, “Now, I’ve got a nice rib-eye, fillet’s only thirty-five euro per kilogram today, and this sirloin’s nicely marbled. What will you have?”

Five didn’t process this, “You’re Welsh?”

“Half.” she said, slightly perturbed, “Mam was Irish, Dad was Welsh. We came here when I was ten.”

It all clicked into place. 

“Efa’s a Welsh name,” he said, coming to the conclusion out loud, “That’s why you’re not Aoife.”

“That’s true,” she said, “I was named for my father’s mother.”

She watched him curiously as he cast his eyes back down to the counter. 

“My daughter’s name is Aoife.” he said, in an attempt at off-handedness.

There was silence then, and Five lowered his eyes. 

“And what’s your name?” she asked.

He swallowed. ***

You warmed yourself in an armchair by the fire, while Aoife’s cheeks were still pinched red from the cold outside. 

John sat beside her on one of the couches in the hotel foyer, flanked by two suits of armor.  He was smart in his gray waistcoat, a gold name badge catching the light at his lapel. His white shirtsleeves were immaculate, his thin, white hair combed over his bald head. His bright blue eyes seemed permanently crinkled into a smile.

“Before we begin, I wonder if I can arrange a hot drink for you both? Will you have a cup of tea, coffee? Hot chocolate for the little one?”

“Can I have marshmallows?” Aoife asked you eagerly.

“She has to have marshmallows, Mammy,” said John, twinkling at you.

“Of course,” you said, “And I’d love a coffee, thanks.”

“A baileys coffee?”

“I shouldn’t,” you said, though very willing to be persuaded.

“You’re on your holidays,” John said, waving aside your diffidence. He caught the eye of one of the junior concierges, motioned him over and made the order.

“Now,” he said, resettling himself, “this is rather a recent fairy story,” John said, “One my mother said happened when I was only a lad, going on for fifty years ago, I’d say.”

You looked at Aoife. Predictably, she looked astonished. To her, fifty years previously may as well be prehistory.

“This story’s not for the faint of heart,” John continued, “Can you handle a spooky story, little one?”

Aoife nodded, wide eyed, her pen poised ready to take notes over a freshly bought notebook. You looked quickly over at him with a small, doubtful grimace. 

He smiled and nodded back at you, taking the hint. 

“Just be assured that this is only a story, now,” he said to her, “It’s not real, it’s just something to tell one another for a bit of fun, alright? I was sixteen when my Mam told me this, and she acted like it had only just happened. It was just to scare me out of walking home late at night. You understand?”

“Yeah,” she said, eager for him to begin.

“The fairies you might have heard about before are not like these fairies. Our fairies are not gentle or very kind. They don’t grant wishes and they’re not to be tangled with.”

Slowly, Aoife wrote down a note in her large, uneven cursive. 

“Fairy forts like the one you visited today are supposed to be where creatures from the fairy realm gather. Did you see any there today?”

Aoife shook her head.

“I thought not,” he said, “they’re supposed to gather at night. And that’s when the story starts. Mam said there was an old man walking home to Ballycarnane and he walked too close to that fairy fort.”

John paused as Aoife laboriously copied down what she’d heard, watching her write and offering the odd prompt to aid her memory. The drinks arrived in this interval, and you sipped your coffee gratefully as you watched them.

“Now this fella wasn’t local, you see,” John continued, “he lived nearby but he wasn’t born around here, so he didn’t know you needed to give them a wide berth. And then the poor fool was confronted by a banshee, wailing.”

“What’s a bant-shee?” Aoife asked.

“A banshee ,” he said, “a terrible fairy. Always a bad omen. They look like women with long hair, and they appear to people, screaming and crying. The story goes that if you see or hear a banshee, it means someone you love’s going to die.”

Aoife scribbled this down, mouth hanging open slightly.

“Remember it’s not real though,” he added, reassuringly, adding a little cold milk to cool her hot chocolate for her, “that’s just what they say.”

“What did the man do?” Aoife asked, too transfixed to take the drink from him when he offered.

“Well, he knew what a banshee was, alright, and he knew what it meant. So he tried to beg her not to take his wife or daughter, only it was too late. The banshee wailed, ‘oh no, you’ve disturbed us, so now you’ll pay the price: either you choose a death, or you’ll give the fairies a newborn child of your blood before the sun goes down tomorrow’. ”

He paused to allow Aoife to write down this last, and then pushed her drink towards her. 

“Drink up, pet.”

Aoife took the hot chocolate from him and took a gulp, leaving foamy residue around her mouth, still watching John with wonder in her eyes. The cup wobbled in its saucer, and you leaned forward to help her put it back on the coffee table, lest her princess dress get covered in even more dirt. 

“Then what happened?” she asked.

“Well, this old man and his wife were too old to have any more children, and their only daughter was grown, and she certainly wasn’t going to have a newborn baby so soon, so he thought he had a chance of beating that banshee.”

You could tell even from several feet away that Aoife’s writing was becoming more and more illegible in her haste to hear the rest of the story. You sensed that some translation and aiding of her memory might come in useful when she came to write up the project.

“So the old man agreed. He said, ‘you can have a newborn of my blood before the sun sets tomorrow,’ thinking he could cheat the fairies out of their due. And what do you think happened next?”

Aoife shook her head, unknowing.

“Well, that man fell into an enchanted sleep, and woke up by the fairy fort at mid-afternoon the next day. No sooner than he woke up did he hurry home to check on his wife and daughter.”

Aoife wasn’t even writing notes anymore, hanging on John’s every word.

“And he found a terrible scene.” John said, ruefully, “While he slept, his daughter had given birth to a changeling, though she certainly hadn’t been pregnant the day before.”

You sat up. 

“What’s a changeling?” Aofie asked. 

“A baby the fairies leave when they steal a human one. They’re supposed to be cursed children, sometimes they’re evil and naughty, and sometimes they have strange powers.”

You leaned forward and opened your mouth to speak, but John spoke before you could ask him anything. 

“And then, the old man realized what he’d done: when there was no newborn to take, the fairies took away his daughter’s future firstborn instead, forcing her to birth the changeling in its place.”

“What happened?” you asked. 

John looked over at you, surprised by the sudden seriousness in your tone.

“Well, the old man and his wife died without any grandchildren. Their daughter never married, and their line died out.”

“What happened to the changeling?” you asked. 

“Nobody knows,” John said, returning his gaze to Aoife with a smile and mysterious tone. ***

“I’m Five.”

There was a long silence. He chewed his lips as he looked down at the meat, not willing or able to meet her eyes.

At last, just to say something that might break the tension, he motioned to a pile of beef.

“That brisket looks good.”

She didn’t answer immediately, but when she did, her no-nonsense voice was firmly back in place.

“It’s the best in the county,” she said briskly, “you can’t beat Irish beef and won’t find a nicer cut, especially when it’s slow cooked.”

“Sounds good,” he said, awkwardly.

“Will you have a piece of that instead of steak?” 

“Sure,” Five said, relieved to have the decision made for him.

“To serve how many?” 

“Just three,” he said, watching her hands as they reached into the display of meat. 

They were just like his. The same long, bony fingers. The same bones and tendons standing out on the back of her hands as her fingers flexed. 

“This piece will do you,” she said, decisively.

Five risked a look up at her, and her brown eyes met his green. 

He must have got his eyes from one of his grandparents, he thought, and then Efa looked away from him quickly. 

“I have a secret recipe for brisket” she said, as she took the beef to the scale and weighed it, “Falls apart in the mouth. It was my mother’s, and I only got it out of her on her deathbed, she prized it so much.”

Five couldn’t resist this opening. He had to know:

“Will you pass it down to your kids?”

She paused for a mere fraction of a second and then she turned to ready brown paper in which to wrap the meat.

“I don’t have children,” she said, firmly, her back still to him, “I was never the marrying or the mothering type.”

As she folded the first layer around the brisket, Five blinked rather rapidly. There was a tight fist somewhere in his abdomen. 

When he mastered himself, he spoke again.

“I understand.”

She nodded, still facing away from him, wrapping the brisket carefully in brown paper, still facing away from him at a plastic table.

“Still,” she said, quietly, “it seems a crying shame that nobody should taste my Mam’s brisket after I’m gone.“

She stuck a label to the wrapped beef, holding the paper in place. Then, from behind her ear, she pulled a stubby pencil, knife-sharpened into a rough, angular shape. 

She tore another small portion of brown paper and began to write with the sort of fevered energy Five himself used to write equations on the concrete walls of the Argyle public library. 

“Now, this is to serve six or so, but you can scale as you like.”

Her pencil clicked smartly along the paper.

“You start with a rub. Dark brown sugar, onion powder, mustard powder, garlic powder, cayenne pepper and salt. Mam would usually leave it there, but I’ve had success with paprika too.”

She looked up at him, pausing in her writing, eyebrows raised imperiously.

“Only you make sure it’s smoked paprika, alright?”

“Of course,” he said, slightly taken aback at her forcefulness. 

“Good,” she said, “And the key is to leave it coated in the rub for at least twelve hours in the fridge. Then, when you cook, a lot of recipes would have you use beef stock, but for my Mam’s recipe, it’s beer or nothing: a nice ale. None of that crap excuse for lager you lot try to pass off as beer.”

“Got it,” Five said, catching her flow, “No American beer. Would Guinness work?”

Efa pulled a face.

“You can try it, I suppose,”

She fell silent as she jotted down the final instructions. 

Five watched her as she worked, jaw set, and eyes intense. She finished the recipe with a flourish, folded the paper and handed it to him smartly across the counter. 

“Thank you,” he said.

“And that’ll be thirteen euro forty-five.”

He reached into his pants pocket and handed her the money as she placed the parcel of meat in a paper bag and handed it over. As she searched in the cash register for the change, he watched her lined face, the rim of her glasses obscuring her eyes.

When she put the coins in his hands, her cold fingers brushed his.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Thank you,” he repeated.

He looked at her, trying to do…he knew not what. He only knew that if he was going to drink her in, now was his opportunity to do so.

“Goodbye,” he said and, with it, there was finality. He wouldn’t come back here. This was the first and last time he’d see her. 

His mother.

“Goodbye Five,” she replied, and her lips twitched into the first smile she’d given him. 

It was small, sad, and spoke no love, but it spoke good will just as clearly.  *** Five arrived back at the hotel just before seven. You were sitting on the four poster bed in your new robe, reading a book. Aoife was already asleep in the suite’s adjoining room, the hangings of her own bed drawn around it. 

“Hi,” you said, as he entered. 

“Hey,” he replied, as he closed the door behind him. 

His boots were muddy, his hair damp and windswept. 

“I hope you don’t mind, I already got Aoife dinner. She’s tuckered out. Long day.”

“Me too,” he said, heavily. 

He turned back to the door and the coat hook on its back. He made as if to take off his coat and hang it with the rest. But instead, he sagged and leaned against the door, his forehead against Aoife’s coat.

You sighed sadly, placed down your book and crossed the room towards him. 

“Come here, sweet guy,” you murmured.

You wrapped your arms around him from behind and laid your head against his, occasionally planting kisses at his hairline. Five let out a sigh of his own at this, and you felt him relax into you slightly.

“How about I run you a bath? I’ll order us room service and a bottle of wine.”

“That sounds nice,” Five said, voice muffled against Aoife’s bright blue raincoat.

You helped him off with his own coat - oddly heavy, you noticed - and put down on the bed. 

“I’ll go run the bath. You get those clothes off okay?”

“Thanks dearest.”

When you returned from the bathroom, where a piping hot bubble bath was already running into the claw-foot tub, Five had stripped to his underwear, sorting his laundry.

“Will you order the pinot noir?” he asked.

“Still don’t trust me to choose wine?” you asked, amused, returning to his coat, “not even after ten years?”

“Never,” he said, smiling.

“Why do you have almost two pounds of meat in your pocket?” you asked, having fished out the brown paper bag emblazoned with: Jones Family Butchers, Est.1979.

“Long fucking story,” he mumbled, “just put it in the trash. I don’t know why I bought it.”

“And what’s this?” you asked, finding the piece of folded paper.

“Nothing,” he said, simply, removing his underwear and putting them in with the dirty clothes, “can you just put it with our passports?.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

And with that, he disappeared into the bathroom. 

Ignoring his request to put in the trash, you put the meat in the fridge that contained the extortionately-priced minibar, thinking you’d deal with it in the morning.

You opened the folded piece of paper as you went to hang his coat. At first, you thought the handwriting that recorded the recipe was his: there were the same bold lines, the same frenetic energy in the triple underlining of the word ‘smoked’ in ‘smoked paprika’, but the more you looked, the more differences you saw. This wasn’t his handwriting.

You refolded it, opened the room’s safe and filed it along with your passports and boarding passes. *** The helpful voice on the other end of the phone informed you that dinner itself would arrive in around forty minutes, while the wine would be sent straight up. Just enough time for you to place Five’s pajamas on a radiator to warm before a knock at the door announced its arrival.

Bottle and glasses in hand, you joined Five in the bathroom, settling on the low bench beside the shower, fogged up with the heat coming off the bathwater.

Five’s eyes were closed, lying with his head against the rim of the tub, breathing the steamy, fragranced air deeply.

“Wine,” you announced.

“Mm,” he said, contentedly. 

He opened his eyes, his submerged left hand surfacing to receive the large glass you’d poured him.

“Thanks beautiful,” he said, looking up at you, eyes lingering for a moment at the cleavage visible where your robe met at the chest. 

You raised an ironic brow. Clearly he wasn’t totally cut up over this. 

As he took his first sip, he let out a small moan.

“Good?” you asked, amused.

“Heavenly,” he muttered, closing his eyes again.

He might not be so distraught that he couldn’t appreciate a nice view of boob, but he still needed this. You scooched your bench closer so that you could run your fingers through his hair.

He hummed appreciatively as you petted him, and you sat that way for several minutes, watching him unwind and fall into gentle repose. 

Who could give him up? With that smooth skin, that dimple on his cheek, his parted lips, his keen eyes, framed by lashes as thick as his soft hair. 

Not you.

At last, when he had worked his way sufficiently down his glass, you topped him up and asked:

“So, how was it?”

“I’m not sure,” he said thoughtfully, “it turns out I’m a quarter Welsh.” *** The sun came out for the last couple of days of the trip. On your final full day there, you were taking a few hours in the hotel spa. Five, however, was to be found being chased around one of the lawns by his daughter, he laughing, she screeching in delight.

“Come back!” she said, in mock outrage, “you need to have YOUR SHOTS!”

He barked, back bent and arms out in front of him like forepaws.

“Never!” he yelled, deploying a perfectly executed commando roll to evade her. 

Unfortunately for him he commando-rolled straight into a large rhododendron bush.

“IF YOU DON’T HAVE YOUR SHOTS YOU WILL GET SICK AND DIE, YOU BAD DOG.” yelled Aoife, holding a small stick clasped in her fist like it was a knife she was about to go full-psycho with.  

“But I don’t want to!” Five whined, trying to disentangle himself as Aoife advanced upon him, “you’re a big meanie vet! Woof!”

“I’M A BIG NICE VET, ACTUALLY.” she said, as he wriggled away from her once more, “YOU’RE JUST A BIG BABY.”

“I’m a big baby who’s getting away!” Five grinned, looking back over his shoulder and sticking his tongue out at her as he darted away.

And then he tripped over a tree root and fell with a thud onto the soft grass. He flipped over, laughing, as Aoife approached. 

“A-ha!” she said, triumphantly, taking advantage of his compromised to jump on top of him, stick raised. 

“Oof!” he said, winded as she straddled his waist. He tried to grab her wrist, but it was too late: she managed to poke the stick into his upper arm.

“There.” she said, “Now what was all that fuss about, little dog?”

“Owwww,” Five cried, pouting and whining like the dog he was supposed to be. 

“Pull yourself together!” Aoife said, affecting a clipped, professional voice, “Or you won’t get a candy.”

“I'm a dog, I'm not allowed candy! I want a treat!” Five replied, indignantly. 

“WELL YOU HAVE TEN MORE SHOTS FIRST.”

“Surely this is unethical?” Five expostulated, his childish affect replaced by a more adult one as she held his arm down and ‘injected’ him (stabbed him repeatedly through his sweater).

“I am NOT un-effable.” 

“Unethical,” Five corrected, rarely able to stop himself from taking advantage of any teachable moment, “it means morally wrong.”

“What does morally mean?” she said, with a small roll of her eyes.

“Ouch. It means how you behave. If you’re morally wrong then it means you’re behaving wrongly.”

“Then you’re being unethable!” she said, triumphantly, “because if you don’t get your shots then you’ll make other doggies sick too.”

“But do the ends justify the means?” Five mused, grinning. 

“What?”

“Nothing. Thank you for my shots. I’m feeling much better, even if my immune system has eleven different attenuated pathogens to deal with.”

Daddy, you always talk funny,” she said, sounding equally amused and irritated with him. 

He put his arms around her and pulled her down onto his chest. 

“E’ vero, cara.”

He kissed where her hair parted at the crown of her head, feeling the deep damp of the soil beginning to soak into his sweater, but not caring at all.

“Usi sempre parole così grosse,” she replied, and he could hear you in her tone, the loving mockery in it. 

He held her to him tighter and kissed her again, harder this time.

“I love you,” he said, feelingly.

“I love you too,” she replied, smiling down at him, her chubby cheeks dimpling as she did.

He felt his chest heave as he looked at her, and when he spoke again, his voice wasn’t quite his own.

“Being your Dad is my favorite thing about myself. And it's my favourite thing to do.”

And it was. He’d saved the world for the love of his adopted family, but perhaps he’d fought so fiercely because some part of him longed for this. Being a father and husband felt intrinsically, cosmically right, and made more sense than any mathematical logic. 

Perhaps his daughter was always written there, deep in his DNA. He didn’t believe in fate, but still, some part of him knew he was supposed to be here, his daughter in his arms and days upon days of rain soaking from the earth, through his sweater and onto his skin. 

He rocked her slightly, there on the grass, one hand in her hair and the other at her back; his baby girl, no matter how much she grew. 

This was what he needed. You and her. You were both his reward and privilege to love.

Aoife considered his words, slightly taken aback by his sudden affection and not really understanding his intensity. After a moment, she spoke thoughtfully:

“Mine is my hair.”

“What?” he asked.

“My favorite thing about myself. I like it because it's curly but not too curly.”

Five laughed, and she laughed too as she was jostled by the movement of his stomach. She shuffled up his body, causing him to flinch away from a potential knee to the balls but, thankfully, she avoided that. 

Instead, she crawled so that her head was level with his, grabbed him by each ear, and kissed his face.  *** At dinner that last night, Aoife coloured the pictures she’d drawn for her project, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she tried her best to color within the lines. The pencil crayons you chose for the job were tactical: unlikely to mark the pure white tablecloth. 

The waiter brought your drinks. As he did so, he caught your eye and nodded conspiratorially towards the door, where Five couldn’t see him. 

You looked over subtly. John stood in the doorway to the kitchen, motioning to you that the prepared surprise would be only two more minutes.  

“Can we see the menu?” Five asked. 

The waiter hesitated.

“I actually ordered for us all,” you said.

“Hm,” Five said, looking curiously up at you, “what are we having?”

“Thank you,” you said to the waiter, dismissing him for now. 

You turned back to Five, and he was watching you with curious eyes. You caught his significantly, and spoke to him now with lines under your words. 

“It seemed a shame to throw away that brisket you brought back the other day.”

He drew in a breath through his nose. You could tell he was unsure how to feel. You placed your hand over his.

“I copied the recipe too,” you said, softly, over the scratch scratch of Aoife’s pencil and the quiet chink of knives and forks on plates, “I thought you should try it before we go home.”

Five looked down at the tablecloth and put his other hand on top of yours. When he looked back up at you, his jaw gave a slight tremor.

“Thank you,” he said, quietly, “truly.”

You smiled, relieved.

“Are you happy?” you said, checking nevertheless.

Five gave one slow outward breath, and in those green eyes that low light sometimes disguised as blue, you saw an intensity of feeling that was hard to witness without bringing tears to your own eyes.

“I couldn’t be happier,” he said, so earnestly that Aoife looked up in surprise.

He wasn’t just talking about the brisket, you knew.

You smiled, losing the battle and swiping away a tear as you and Five squeezed each other's hands. 

“Good,” you said, sniffling, “because I tipped the kitchen way too much money to make this happen.”

Taglist: @nevbrooke-555, @fiannee, @abeeabee6969, @chalametabingbong, @lolawassad, @icantpickanamefromonefandom, @kaybreezy3000

Megalist

Request info + rules

NOTE:

I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See request info + rules for request status and more.

Disclaimer: As an English person, I was conscious of the potential for unintended xenophobia as I wrote this, especially given the fast and loose attitude I've given to folklore. Unfortunately I wasn't able to get any Irish sensitivity readers before posting this though. I have a lot of Irish family and have visited many times in my life, but I'm aware I have blind spots just by nature of being English. If any Irish folk want to discuss anything that made them uncomfortable, my DMs are open :)

[minasattic]

“no matter what.”

im nayeon x fem!twice 10th member reader; fluff

warnings: a HINT of angst if you squint, talk of disbandment

w/c: 747

a/n: i don’t like this fic but i’ll post it anyways </3 NOT PROOFREAD !!!!

-

it was saturday, and today was one of the days where all of the girls had an off day. they were rare, so most spent it with eachother, doing fun things around seoul, but a select few, including you, decided to stay at the dorm and rest.

you lounged on your bed, keen on spending your day off rotting in bed. you had scrolled through your phone for hours now, and honestly you were getting kind of bored. you were thinking of going to bother Mina, who had stayed behind, but figured she’d probably tell you to leave so that she could continue playing her game.

so instead, you kept scrolling, mindlessly wandering the internet. that’s until something caught your eye. It was an article on Jeongyeon’s interview with Bazzar earlier that week. You skimmed through the interview, curious to see what the older girl had said.

You stopped when you came across a question asking “Can you believe twice is in its 10th year?”

You felt your heart pang. No, you couldn’t believe that twice was in its tenth year. You couldn’t believe that you had spent ten years with these girls, who used to be strangers to you. it all felt so surreal.

you continued to read, wanting to know what Jeongyeon replied. You felt another pang in your heart reading what she answered. She replied, “How many more albums can we release as twice in the future? We can’t be active as twice forever. Of course, it would be nice if we could, but there will come a time when we each have to walk our own path. It’s not a given that we can prepare an album together like now.”

You set your phone down, getting lost in your thoughts. You hadn’t thought about what it would be like without twice. without your members. you’ve spent every waking hour with them since sixteen, and a world without them feels unreal. but Jeongyeons right, you can’t be twice forever. you’ll have to move on eventually.

just the thought makes you tear up. and in seconds, you have tears running down your face, ugly crying. you grab the tissue box by your bed and try to clean your face up, but failing as the tears continue to stream down your face.

you hear a knock on your door, “y/n-ah, are you okay?” it’s nayeon. she must have heard your wailing.

you sniffle, using all your strength to muster up a reply. “y-yes, nayeon un-unnie” you said through sniffles.

“y/n, you’re clearly not. i’m coming in.” she opens the door, revealing you sitting in your bed, your face red, tissues spewed everywhere, and snot running down your nose. her eyes soften instantly. “oh baby…” she walks over to you, sitting on your bed and pulling you into her embrace. “what’s wrong?” she asks, stroking your hair.

“what are we going to do, unnie…” you mutter. nayeon pulls away, looking at you softly.

“what do you mean?” at that, you start spewing out words. you express how you’re not ready for the future. how you don’t want to grow up. how frightened you are at the fact that it’s already been ten years, when it seemed like only yesterday you all debuted. and how scared you are that you’re going to lose all of them. your best friends.

nayeon looks at you with a pout. she takes your face in her hands and wipes your tears. “it will be okay, y/n-ah.” she says, stroking your hair.

“unnie, i don’t kn-know what i’m going to do without you g-guys..” you say, sobbing.

nayeon sighs. of course she’s thought about disbandment. she wasn’t ready for it either; none of them were. so she tells you what she had been telling herself. “y/n, no matter what happens. no matter what path we choose to take. we are always going to be twice. a silly disbandment won’t break our friendship. we’ll always have eachothers backs, and support each other in whatever we decide to do.”

you nod, hugging her again. she lays down on your bed, putting your head on her chest. “go to sleep, y/n… you’ve had a long day..” you nod, wiping a stray tear.

the two of you sit in silence for a while, before you speak up. “i love you, unnie…” you say, hugging her tighter.

nayeon rubs your back with her hand. “i love you too, y/n.”

you fall asleep, with nayeons comforting embrace assuring you that no matter what life brings you, you’ll always be together.

you’ll always be twice

[waitimcomingtoo]

Sweet Nothing

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: you and Peeta have an honest conversation after he defends Gale at the whipping post

You looked over your shoulder when you heard your front door open and saw Peeta with a loaf of bread. He saw that your hand was on Gales back and his jaw tightened but he didn’t say anything about it.

“Hey, Peet.” You said through a yawn. He blushed at the nickname as he walked further into your house.

“Hey. Have you been there all night?”

“Yeah. In case he woke up.” You yawned again and nodded towards Gale.

“Did he?”

“No. He’s still pretty knocked out from whatever Prim gave him.”

“You should go get some sleep. I’ll stay with him.” Peeta offered as he set the bread down.

“No. It’s okay. I won’t make you do that.” You smiled awkwardly, knowing that was probably the last thing Peeta wanted to do.

“You’re not making me do anything. Go on. Get some rest.” Peeta gently urged you. You gave Gale another look and decided he’d be fine without you for a little while.

“Okay. Thank you.” You said as you stood up. You stepped forward and sleepily wrapped your arms around Peeta. He was surprised at first but soon wrapped his arms around you. You yawned against his shoulder before resting your cheek on it and closing your eyes. Peeta smiled to himself and gently swayed with you to let you get a moment of rest.

“As much as I’m enjoying this, I don’t think you should sleep standing up.” He said into your ear. You sighed and let go of him before going to your room. Peeta watched you leaved before occupying the seat you had just been in. He could still feel the warmth you left and longed for time when that wasn’t the only intimacy the two of you shared. He let you sleep for a few hours before deciding to bring you some water. He went into your room with a glass just as you were waking up.

“Hey. How’d you sleep?” He smiled softly and sat on your bed.

“I slept okay.” You shrugged. “Thanks for giving me a break.”

“Of course. We both know you’d never ask for one, but I could tell you needed it.” Peeta smiled teasingly as he handed you the glass of water. You gratefully accepted before downing the glass.

“You’re a good guy, Peeta.” You sighed as you put your cup down. The finality in your voice clued Peeta in that you had made some sort of decision between Gale’s whipping and now.

“But not the right guy, huh?” He smiled sadly. There was no self pity in his voice, which made your heart ache as you stared at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t always know what you’re thinking. But I can tell something about Gale is giving you serious guilt about your fake relationship with me.” Peeta said, making your stomach drop at how well he could read you.

“I think he kinda assumed he and I were something before I went off to the games. But I don’t know if we are. I know he wants a wife and kids. And I know I’m not ready for that yet.” You admitted without looking at Peeta.

“Do you think you’ll be ready for it one day?”

“Maybe. If I ever truly believed the world was safe enough for kids to be in.”

“What about marriage?” He asked softly.

“Well I’m already engaged, aren’t I?” You laughed dryly, knowing your fake wedding was mere days away. Peeta didn’t share your laughter and instead looked gutted at the reminder of the wedding. Your smile fell as well and you looked down again.

“I’m sorry. I know this isn’t how you wanted things to happen.” You said as you played with your fingers.

“How do you know that?” Peeta asked and it was his turn for his stomach to drop.

“Haymitch told me.” You admitted as you looked up at him. Peeta gulped and stared into your eyes, knowing there was no use trying to lie to you.

“I’ll admit that I always hoped we’d get married one day out of love, not obligation to The Capital. But your brilliant mind has once again come up with a way to keep us safe. So I guess I can’t really be upset.”

“Yes you can.” You said immediately, making Peeta look confused.

“You can be upset about what I did to you in the games. I’m upset about it.” You continued as tears filled your eyes. Peeta smiled sadly and took your hand.

“You didn’t do anything to me.” Peeta assured you. “You played a part that allowed us to get out of there alive. And alive together. We never would’ve both made it home without you. I would’ve died from my leg wound and you would’ve come home with no one who ever truly understood what you went through back there.”

“I know. I just wish there was a way I could’ve let you know about the plan while it was happening. I didn’t know you weren’t playing along.” You said while avoiding his gaze. Peeta’s eyes bore into you but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“I didn’t know how much I would be hurting you when I acted the way I did in the cave. It killed me when I realized you were never pretending.” You whispered as a tear slipped down your face.

“I wouldn’t say I never was. I think we both played up our romance for the cameras, intentionally or not. But a lot of what I said to you was true. I really have pinned for you for the last 11 years.” Peeta confessed as he wiped your face with the sleeve of his shirt. You looked up at him and gave him a soft smile.

“Some of what I said was true too.”

“Really? Like what?” Peeta asked hopefully.

“Like when you said I wasn’t paying attention and I told you I was. You said it was just because you didn’t have any competition in the games. I said you don’t have much competition anywhere.”

“That can’t be true.” Peeta chuckled. “You just slept in an old chair all night long in case Gale woke up and needed something.”

“He would’ve done it for me.” You said quietly.

“I think he’d do anything for you.” Peeta laughed sadly, making you think.

“No, actually. I don’t think he would.”

“You don’t?” Peeta raised an eyebrow.

“I love Gale. He’s my best friend and provides for my family. But sometimes, and I would never admit this to him…” You trailed off and looked off into the distance as you thought of Peeta preparing to eat the nightlock berries with you.

“What is it?” Peeta asked.

“I honestly think if Gales name had been called in the reaping instead of yours, he would’ve killed me in the games if it came down to it. He would’ve let me eat the nightlock by myself or cut my throat or done something final just to get home. He’s a hunter. He isn’t a lover. He isn’t…” You trailed off again and looked down to avoid meeting Peeta’s eyes.

“He isn’t you.” You finished. Peeta’s face burned red but he kept his composure. He had a million things he wanted to say to you, but nothing came out.

“You know, you guys would probably get along if you gave it a chance.” You said to fill the silence.

“Gale and I would never get along.“ Peeta laughed as he shook his head.

“You might. You’re both from district 12. You’re the same age. You’re both stubborn. I think you’d be great friends.”

“No. We could never be friends.”

“Why not?”

“Because of you. The number one thing we have in common. We both….” Peeta trailed off and smiled sadly, and you knew exactly what he wasn’t saying. They both wanted you, so they could never get along.

“Yeah.” You said finally. “I guess you’re right.”

Peeta felt he had dropped the ball and caused the moment you were having to end. He wiped his hands off on his pants before taking one of yours to hold.

“Look, Y/n, I know romance is probably the last thing on your mind with everything else going on. But you deserve to be happy. Even if happy is with him. So I’m fine being your friend and loving you from a distance. Because even if you chose him over me, at least I’ll know that you’re loved. That’s all I could really ask for. I just want you to feel loved. So I don’t want you to feel pressured to “pick” one of us to be with. You have a million more important things to think about. But if one day you do chose, just know I’ll love you either way.”

“Peeta.” You breathed out and touched his face. He leaned into your palm before kissing the center of it. You started to lean in to kiss him when your mom entered the room.

“Oh. Sorry.” She said when she realized what was going on. “Gale is asking for you, honey.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right there.” You said without taking your eyes off Peeta.

“You should go. He needs you.” Peeta told you with his selfless smile. He got off your bed and headed for your door.

“Peeta.” You called desperately, hoping he’d stay.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? It’s almost our big day.” He winked at you before leaving. You sighed in disappointment before going to see Gale.

“Hey. How you feeling?” You asked as you sat back in your chair beside the table.

“Better now that your fiancé went home.” Gale said with a tired smile.

“Hey, my fiancé defending you at the whipping post and stayed with you while I slept.” You defended Peeta in a calm, gentle tone.

“Don’t act like he’s some saint. He just wanted some points with you.” Gale brushed it off, making you frown.

“He isn’t like that, Gale. He doesn’t do things for praise or attention. He does things because he’s selfless and kind.”

“Sorry. I didn’t realize he meant so much to you.” Gale mumbled. He was starting to get on your nerves in a way he usually didn’t.

“He saved my life. So yes, he does.” You said simply.

“Come on.” Gale laughed humorously. “Don’t tell me you actually have feelings for the guy. He’s a baker. A nobody. He got hurt in the games and painted his face until you came along to save him. He can’t protect you. And he definitely can’t provide for you. Unless you think you can survive on cupcakes and cookies for a living.”

You sat back in your seat and gave Gale a blank stare. You wanted to say “I can’t protect myself. I can provide for myself”, but you bit your tongue. You let it slide since he was just waking up from his pain medication but it bothered you that he didn’t think you were self sufficient. You thought back to your conversation with Peeta from just moments ago and how he called your mind brilliant. You smiled at the memory before looking at Gale again.

“Would you be upset with me if I ended up with him? You asked quietly.

“It doesn’t matter.” He shrugged. “You’re never going to end up with that guy.”

“But would you still be my friend if I did?”

“I don’t see how I possibly could.” Gale said like it was obvious. He had given you the opposite answer Peeta had and it made you think. Gale didn’t care if you ended up loved. He only cared if you ended up with him.

“Right.” You smiled tightly and looked down.

“Why are you asking me this anyway? Isn’t your love for him just a lie for The Capital?”

In that moment, it had never been clearer to you that no, it wasn’t a lie. Your love for Peeta was real. Gale could offer you a fire that already burned within you, but Peeta wasn’t fire. Peeta was the sun. He was a dandelion in the springtime. He was rebirth, new beginnings, and an old friends all at once. He had nothing to offer you but unconditional, unasking, and unselfish love. You needed to be with him immediately and got up out of your chair.

“I have to go.” You said and ran out your front door. You ran all the way to Peeta’s house and pounded on his door. Peeta opened it in no time and looked surprised when he saw you.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” Peeta asked. You answered by throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him. Peeta’s eyes flew open in surprise before fluttering shut. He wrapped and arm around your waist and walked backwards without ever breaking the kiss. Once you were inside his house, you deepened the kiss until you needed to pull away for air.

“What’s happening? Are the cameras here?” Peeta whispered as he stared into your eyes. It mad you sad that he thought you were only kissing him because there were cameras around so you shook your head.

“No. I just realized something.”

“What’s that?”

“That if I’m gonna be on this train for the rest of my life, there’s no one else I’d rather be on it with.” You said as you brushed your thumb against his cheek. It took Peeta a minute to process what you were saying but when he did, he smiled.

“Can you please say it? Even if it’s just this once?” He whispered with desperation heavy in his voice. You smiled and cupped his face so you could bring his forehead closer to press against yours.

“Peeta Mellark, I fear I’ve fallen helplessly in love with you.” You said as stared into his eyes. Peeta broke out into the biggest grin you’d ever seen on him before scooping you up and spinning you around. He pressed a million kisses to your cheek before setting you down.

“That’s all I ever wanted to hear.”

[wheneverfeasible]

I saw your post about shipping Wayne with people and I must raise you: Wayne x Hopper

Bet.

~~~

wc: 3.8k || rating: T+ || tags: referenced homophobia, f-slur, temporary (fake) character death, background steddie, brief background jopper || ao3

~

A tired sigh left Wayne’s lips as he took in the sight before him and leaned against the doorframe of his trailer. This was the third time this had happened, meaning this was just the third time Eddie was caught.

Wayne dragged his eyes from his sheepishly smiling nephew to the police chief standing behind the boy with his arms crossed, his mustache bristling in irritation. Wayne dropped his hand from where it was pinching the bridge of his nose to offer Hopper a rueful smile of his own.

“Sorry, Chief,” he mumbled.

A grunt was all he got in answer, but at least Hopper was moving to undo the handcuffs binding his nephew’s wrists behind his back. The slight tuft of hair growing back after that unfortunate buzzcut looked like a rat’s nest, but at least the kid was grinning up at him instead of scowling. Small mercies.

“Next time I catch him skipping school, Munson, I’m throwing him in the drunk tank. I don’t care if he’s a minor,” Hopper warned threateningly, shoving Eddie between the shoulder blades towards his uncle.

Wayne swiftly clasped Eddie by the shoulders and pushed him into the trailer before Eddie could retaliate with a rude hand gesture like he knew the kid wanted to do. Elizabeth would faint if she had been around to see it, he was certain, lord rest her soul.

“Don’t worry, Chief. I’ll personally drive him to and from school if I have to,” Wayne grimaced, which caused Eddie to squawk from behind him. Though, not out of embarrassment as he had originally thought.

“Uncle Wayne! You can’t miss work like that!” Eddie exclaimed, looking genuinely worried. And it was true; if Wayne had to call out any more than he already had since his brother Al started leaving Eddie home alone, his hours might get cut even more than they already were. Or worse.

Wayne raised a single eyebrow at Eddie, pleased that his nephew was sweet enough to worry about him, but also hoping it got the point across. “Then let’s hope I won’t have any reason to do so,” he dryly remarked.

Eddie looked appropriately shamefaced, his big dark eyes dropping to the floor as he dragged the toes of his ratty shoes over the ground. Wayne eyed him a moment longer before turning back to look at Hopper with an apologetic expression.

“I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“See that you do,” Hopper gruffly stated, looking away for a moment before letting out a sigh of his own. “I can only cut the kid so much slack. I don’t want to see him go down the same road as his pop.”

Wayne winced a little, his younger brother always a sore point for his nephew, who stiffened before huffing and walking back towards Wayne’s room—which frequently became Eddie’s room when Wayne made him stay with him instead of living in that old house all by his lonesome.

“He’s a good kid, Hop,” Wayne murmured, despite the sound of the bedroom door slamming. “He’s more like Elizabeth than he is Alan.”

Hopper glanced off to the side where Wayne’s bedroom was located. “Let’s hope he’s got some of his uncle in him too,” he muttered, which caused Wayne to feel a small flush of embarrassed pride. “Elizabeth was a good sort, but…”

Well, she had married Al, hadn’t she? Wayne got what Hopper meant.

Wayne took the few steps down to grab Eddie’s backpack Hopper held out, clapping his shoulder with a small nod of thanks. He knew that Hopper was the only one who cut the kid any sort of slack at all, knew that if it had been one of his deputies or officers that Wayne would be picking Eddie up at the jailhouse instead.

“I appreciate it, Chief. Really I do.”

Hopper just gave another grunt before stepping back. “Nothing against you, Wayne, but let’s stop meeting like this, yeah?”

Wayne couldn’t help but give another small grin. “I could invite you in for coffee so it seems less like a business call,” he lightly teased. “Or if you got a thermos, at least let me top you off.”

Hopper shook his head, though a good portion of his earlier irritation seemed to have left him, a corner of his mustache tilting up slightly with a half-smile. “I’d say next time, but let’s hope there’s not a next time.”

It still felt a little strange to be anything less than completely professional with a lawman, but then Hopper wasn’t like most other police officers. He remembered years ago, back before Hopper had been chief, when the then deputy had caught Wayne in a compromising position with another man.

Now, Wayne knew he wasn’t perfect. Just like his brother after him and their father before them, he was a high school dropout. It wasn’t necessarily by choice, if anything it seemed almost like the curse of Munson men, though he’d be damned if he didn’t try his hardest to encourage his nephew to strive for something greater.

Wayne was…content, he supposed, with his situation in life now. Sure, he might wish he didn’t have to work so much just to barely make ends meet, but he earned everything he had through good, honest hard work. But he got lonely sometimes, and for people like him, well…there wasn’t much for a man to do when he preferred the company of other men.

He knew it had been stupid to do it, knew it was a damn risk, but he’d still let Reggie Thompson crowd him against the brick alley wall by the sickly sweet smelling dumpster outside the bar. And it had been great at first—minus the dumpster—but then the flashing lights of a police cruiser had ignited their hiding place and Reggie took off without a glance back at him, Wayne fumbling with his jeans that had been shoved down to his knees.

Newly minted Deputy James Hopper had caught him like that, literal pants down, unable to deny what he had been up to with another man. Wayne felt the cold certainty that he was about to be beaten to death, or worse, and just hoped it would be quick. A cop catching a fag in action? Yeah, there had only been one way Wayne saw that playing out.

Except…Hopper had looked uncomfortable, embarrassed, but he hadn’t reached for his baton or gun or anything. He didn’t threaten Wayne, or blackmail him, and there was no disgust on his face or in his voice when he’d just warned Wayne off on public indecency and suggested getting a motel room next time. Let him off with a warning instead of a ticket. Or a bloody head.

And that was it.

Hopper never brought it up again after that, never treated Wayne any differently, never harassed him or anything else. Wayne didn’t know if Hopper saw who he had been with beyond a very male body, but Reggie never acted like he’d been accosted afterwards either, though Wayne heard that he’d bought his girlfriend a wedding ring the very next day.

He wouldn’t say he and the police chief were friends or anything, but they were friendly, allowing the two of them to exchange an occasional dry remark, smile, and even a nod of acknowledgment and greeting when crossing paths outside of the times Hopper brought Eddie home. Or Wayne had to bail his brother out of the drunk tank.

And things continued like that for a little while, and much to Wayne’s chagrin, it wasn’t the last time Hopper brought Eddie home to him either. (Even after it was Eddie’s official home, after Al dipped out for good. Wayne would always love his brother, but he could acknowledge that he wasn’t a good man or a good father. Hell, he wasn’t even a good brother.)

Slowly, however, hardly without Wayne realizing it, things began changing between him and Hopper.

It began with Hopper actually accepting a cup of coffee one night when he brought Eddie home from a house party he had crashed out in Loch Nora, much to Eddie’s horror. The look of betrayal he gave Wayne had been hilarious, all things considered.

Then, before Benny’s alleged suicide, Hopper had been leaving the diner when Wayne had entered and Hopper had called out to Benny to add Wayne’s coffee to his tab, a favor returned from their last shared cup together at the trailer. Wayne had protested, then somehow had settled on that he would allow it only if Hopper joined him next time.

And, strangely enough, Hopper did.

It didn’t quite become a regular thing, but if they happened to be in the same place at the same time, they would always join the other. Wayne was there during some bad days of Hopper’s, and Hopper was there when Wayne felt like he was failing Eddie, and eventually he thought he might actually consider them friends.

He didn’t let himself think about what else he felt for the man.

Wayne had actually bought Hopper a beer when he learned that the man had adopted a young girl out of seemingly nowhere, remembering those dark days after his first daughter’s passing. The man looked good, happier than he had in a while, and Wayne found himself enjoying the way his mustache would twitch when he smiled.

Of course, after that first beer, Hopper made Wayne accept a return in favor. Which then had Wayne buying the next round, and Hopper the next after that.

And then Wayne did something very very stupid.

He kissed him.

They had been stumbling out of the bar, laughing and smiling like the friends Wayne was amazed they were, both far drunker than they had initially been intending to be that night. Their bar stools had gotten closer and closer during the night as well, until Wayne could feel the warmth of Hopper’s knee pressed against his own.

Hopper’s voice had been low, a rumble that matched the mischievous look in his eyes, and Wayne was but a simple man. And he was lonely. It was hard being gay in a place like Hawkins, much less when your one-bedroom trailer had your nephew in said bedroom and you slept on the rolling bed in the living room.

So they’d stumbled into the night, laughing about if they should call a cab or walk, Hopper’s hand warm on his lower back to keep balance when the chief’s eyes scanned over to the very same alley he’d once accosted Wayne in years ago.

Wayne’s heart stuttered in his chest, this being the first Hopper acknowledged Wayne’s queerness since that first night, especially when Hopper snorted with a wry smile and crooked smile.

“Still can’t believe making out in filth is worth it,” he huffed, and Wayne was just drunk enough to convince himself he heard curiosity there.

Wayne shoved his fear down to grin at Hopper, reaching out to grab his shirt’s lapel and dragged Hopper into the alley, the other man letting out another amused snort.

“You’ll find that you’re willing to put up with a lot of shit if you’re desperate enough,” he teased in return. The dumpster’s location had moved since he was there last, but no matter. Wayne found a spot and quickly turned himself so that he was falling back against the rough bricks and grinned once more at Hopper.

Who, because of Wayne’s grip on his shirt, was forced to stumble forward with him, his hands shooting out to catch himself on the alley wall, bracketing Wayne in between his arms.

“See?” Wayne breathed, his eyes dropping to where Hopper’s lips were partly hidden by his mustache there. He swallowed, licked his lips, and felt a thrill when Hopper’s eyes tracked the movement. “Not so bad, is it?”

Hopper took a small step closer, and Wayne could feel the heat of him radiating against him. And he was so, so lonely. He’d given up looking for companionship once Eddie moved in with him, not that he’d had much of a selection to begin with, unless he left town for one of the bigger cities.

“No,” Hopper had rumbled, voice lower than ever, and Wayne’s toes curled in his boots. “Not bad at all.”

Wayne released Hopper’s shirt to press his hand flat against Hopper’s chest, his thumb lightly stroking over the hair that peaked out between the open buttons. Hopper shivered against him, but made no move to stop him. Emboldened, Wayne then slid his hand up, curling it behind Hopper’s neck, feeling the air between them grow thicker, heavier. Needier. His other hand settled on Hopper’s hip.

“Wayne—” Hopper started to say, leaning in, but Wayne was already ahead of him.

He tugged Hopper closer, pressing their lips together, wasting no time in tasting the lingering beer on Hopper’s tongue as he opened his mouth up to him. Hopper groaned, pressing even closer as his hands moved to Wayne’s hips, holding him against the wall. It only took a brief shift of his hips to slot a thigh between Hopper’s, making the man groan even louder and rock forward against him.

Wayne felt the insane urge to ask if that was a gun in Hopper’s pocket, but he had no intention of releasing Hopper’s mouth to do so. Instead, he rutted up, rocking with Hopper in the dirty alley as their tongues slid together, all but moaning in Hopper’s mouth as he felt Hopper’s answering desire against his own.

And then a can clattered at the entrance of the alley, causing the two men to suddenly jerk apart, staring wide eyed as a drunk stumbled past the mouth of the alley without seeing them. Wayne pressed a hand to his chest before turning in sudden horrified realization towards Hopper.

The police chief.

Who he had just assaulted, if Hopper chose to see it that way.

And Hopper wouldn’t meet his eyes, was scrunched in on himself, and Wayne felt a brief fear that Eddie wouldn’t ever know what happened to him. Cops were good at hiding bodies.

Hopper didn’t lash out, however. He didn’t reassure Wayne, but he didn’t hit him either. Instead he just stood there in a silence that Wayne didn’t dare break. Until finally, with a pained glance in Wayne’s direction, Hopper murmured a quiet ‘sorry’ and then quickly left the alley without another look behind him.

Wayne wondered briefly if he should tell Eddie to sleep at a friend’s for the next few days, just in case a mob showed up at the trailer, but then he felt immediately bad for thinking such things of Hopper.

Life continued on, though the once easy companionship he and Hopper had shared was now clearly over. Wayne heard it through the grapevine that Chief Hopper and Joyce Byers were going to go on a date.

Wayne hated gossip.

He hated he couldn’t stop listening for it even more.

And then Hopper died.

Wayne couldn’t go to the memorial service. They had been friends, once, though things had been strained between them after the alley. Back to being acquaintances, back to being strangers. Now they were nothing.

It wasn’t the first time he had to mourn someone in secret, but this time hurt far worse.

He was forced to confront the true depth of his feelings for the man he would never see again.

Then, months later, he walked into his trailer to find the mutilated remains of a dead cheerleader, his nephew nowhere to be found.

It was the worst week of his life. He couldn’t lose anyone else, he couldn’t, especially not his sweet boy. It would kill him.

And then, miracle of miracles, his nephew was found. Hurt, broken, but alive. Rushed to the hospital by the Harrington boy with their younger neighbor, but alive.

He was put in a medical coma while he healed, and believe it or not but it was Harrington—or Steve, as he asked to be called—who ranted and bitched and demanded that Eddie not be handcuffed to his bed when he wasn’t even conscious and wouldn’t be until the hospital let him.

It was Steve who, on the other side facing Wayne and the door, sat beside Eddie’s bed more often than not. And when he wasn’t, he was usually at the Mayfield girl’s, or volunteering with the relief effort.

Steve was there that day, facing the door Wayne had his back to, when he glanced up from the magazine he was reading with a heavy sigh of relief.

“Thank god. Have your creeps cleared the charges yet?” Steve huffed with a roll of his eyes.

Wayne was just in the process of turning around to see who Steve was talking to when he heard his voice.

“Jesus, kid, there were some things that were a little more important than clearing someone in a coma. No offense, Wayne.”

Wayne froze, his breath caught in his throat. It was impossible. And yet, as he slowly turned around, there he was: Hopper.

He was skinnier, and balder, than the last time he’d seen him. And missing his mustache. Hell, he looked more like Wayne now than Wayne did, his own facial hair far scragglier as he hadn’t cared about its upkeep while his nephew was in the hospital.

“Hop?” he gasped, standing swiftly from his chair and making an aborted movement to reach out for his old friend, before remembering they weren’t like that anymore. He drew back, but couldn’t stop the way his eyes roamed over Hopper in disbelief.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Hopper said, quieter, and if Wayne could believe it, more self-consciously.

“Well I take offense,” Steve said with his hands on his hips, standing now to frown at Hopper. “I don’t care what story they want to use, they just better clear his name. After everything we’ve went through because of them, it’s the least they can do.”

Hopper sighed, rolling his eyes in that exaggerated way he had, like everyone else was a pain in his ass. Wayne loved it.

“Yeah, yeah. Send them a therapy bill,” Hopper muttered. He then indicated with a thumb over his shoulder to the door. “Go get something to eat, kid. You look worse than me.”

Steve grinned then, a little cheeky. “Yeah,” he agreed with a laugh. “Welcome to the club, by the way, comrade. Robin’s making us tee shirts.”

“I look forward to it. Now go on before I call Buckley and tell her you’re bleeding out.”

Steve looked horrified at that threat, swiftly grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair he’d been in and hurrying out the door. “The doctor said the stitches are healing perfectly!” he grumbled in complaint as he left.

And then it was just Wayne and Hopper. And Eddie, technically. Hopefully he couldn’t hear any of this, because it was getting harder and harder not to let the tears building up behind his eyes loose. Not that there was anything wrong with crying, of course.

Wayne had always taught Eddie to feel his feelings, instead of shoving them down under the false belief that men were weren’t supposed to cry. Being sensitive didn’t mean being weak.

He felt weak now though.

“Hopper? Are you really…”

Hopper scrubbed a hand over his shaved head, looking down at his boots for a moment before glancing back up at Wayne. “It’s, uh…kind of a long story. But I’m alive. Officially again. And don’t tell Steve, the brat, but Eddie’s cleared too. He’s free to go home as soon as he’s healed up enough. The doctors are going to bring him out of the coma soon.”

A gasping sob of relief left Wayne before he could stop it, twin fat tears rolling down his cheeks, followed by more. Not only was his nephew alive, healing, and cleared of all charges, but the man he thought he had lost forever was alive and standing right before him.

Sure, he couldn’t have him the way he wanted, but just having him alive was enough. He wouldn’t dare look that gift horse in the mouth. There had been no body to bury, believed to have been lost in the fire, but now he knew why.

Hopper looked conflicted, and then he was glancing over his shoulder at the open door. Wayne tried to reel his tears back in, Hopper obviously looking for an escape, but Wayne wasn’t fast enough and Hopper was once more striding towards the door and away from him.

Except…except Hopper didn’t leave through the door. No, he closed it, throwing the lock and then turning on his heel and striding with purpose back towards Wayne. Before Wayne could even think to flinch, however, Hopper’s hands were caging his face and drawing him forward and—

The kiss tasted of tears.

It didn’t hold the desperate heat like it had in the alley, yet Wayne was gasping into it regardless. One of Hopper’s hands left his face to wrap around his back, pulling him closer, and Wayne might be a middle aged man who did hard labor for a living, but he swore he felt his knees go weak.

Hopper pulled back slowly, though he didn’t go far, pressing his forehead to Wayne’s with a soft breath. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “The entire time, all I could think about was that I had to come back, for El, and for you.”

“Hop…” Wayne’s thoughts were racing. He had a million questions he wanted to asked, like how was he even here right now, where had he been, what was going on, but all that could escape him was: “Joyce?”

Hopper snorted, pulling away with a small wry smile and shake of his head. “I had thought…” He trailed off, taking a deep breath. “I thought the spark was still there between us, thought it was what I wanted, but…all I could think about was you. I miss our friendship, Wayne. I would lay awake at night, wondering how things might have turned out differently if I hadn’t left that night in the alley.”

Wayne shook his head, trying desperately to get his thoughts in order. He had to be dreaming. He just had to be. Yet…there was Hopper, solid and real and and warm and alive.

“I don’t need you to…to be something you’re not, Jim,” he finally managed to get out after clearing his throat, stepping further away and wiping at his face. “I just need you alive. And hopefully as a friend.”

Hopper studied him for a moment, and there was a darkness to his eyes that reminded Wayne of how they used to look back when Vietnam had been fresher, the darkness of a soldier who had seen far too much bloodshed. But there was also something he’d never seen before too, at least not directed at himself. Not from Hopper.

“You have me as a friend, Wayne, always.” Hopper reached out, slowly, to take Wayne’s hand in his. He’d never been the touchy-feely short, Hopper, but now he brought Wayne’s hand to his chest, holding it there beneath his own. “But also…hopefully as something more.”

More.

He couldn’t have stopped the smile on his face even if he’d tried.

Wayne wanted more.

Later, Eddie would be brought out of the coma. Later, Eddie would come home to their new government funded bungalow. Later, Wayne would find Steve as attached to Eddie’s side as he had been in the hospital. Later, he would find Steve in Eddie’s bed, instead of beside it. Later, Wayne would get to see Eddie smile, hear him laugh, and watch him fall in love with a boy who loved him back.

Later, Eddie would catch Wayne and Hopper in a compromising position and complain that, when he said ‘fuck the police’, he didn’t mean it like that.

Later, Wayne would have his more. He would have his everything.

~

This is only Steddie adjacent but y’all are getting tagged anyways.

Hostage Hotties:

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-wierdlife

@everywherenothere @bumblebeecuttlefishes

[juniperskye]

I’ll do things right this time.

Sneak peek: Bucky and you had been exploring the dynamics of a d/s relationship, only you didn’t do as much research as you should’ve which is how you end up experiencing sub drop. That’s a mistake Bucky won’t let happen again.

Bucky x Avenger! Fem Reader

Smut/Angst/Fluff

Word count: 4170

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, Porn with plot, unprotected sex (wrap it up), fingering, oral (female receiving), D/S dynamic, spanking (with a belt), Language, choking, aftercare!, dirty talk? (not degrading, but something), no use of y/n, talk of depression and mental health, subspace, sub drop, Let me know if I missed any.

Not edited - This thought came to me this morning and I had to get it written down. Also I do NOT consent to having my work translated or posted to any other site! That being said I don't own the following images of characters. Enjoy!

Bucky’s hand gripped your throat as he continued to pound into you from behind, placing just enough pressure to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You were in pure bliss, not a single coherent thought running through your head, only thoughts of him.

“That’s it doll, take my fucking cock.” Bucky grunted.

You could only whine in response. Your mind had long since emptied and you were left unable to form words. You felt like putty in the hands of your boyfriend, and you couldn’t be happier. You knew this had been good for Buck. The two of you recently exploring your sex life had led to this night where he was truly dominating you for the first time. After having no control in his life for so long, you knew he needed this, to control something, to control you. And you fucking loved it, surrendering yourself to him completely was the greatest experience, especially if it would feel like this every time.

You could feel what had to be your fourth or fifth orgasm approaching, and you were too far gone to even notify Bucky before it came crashing over you.

“Christ, another one. Baby you’re gripping me so ti-ght” Bucky breathed into your ear as he sloppily thrusted into you. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum doll. I’m gonna fill you up so good.” And with those words he finished, pushing his seed into you as his hips slowed.

He didn’t slip out right away, instead he stayed momentarily as he removed his hand from your throat and pressed a chaste kiss to your shoulder. You were so far gone, you’d honestly didn’t even feel it, so when he’d actually slipped out of you and then the bed to retrieve a wet cloth to clean up the mess pooling between your legs, you hissed from not only the sensitivity but the shock.

Bucky threw the cloth into the laundry basket in your bathroom and returned to your bed. As he positioned himself behind you, he let his arm creep around your middle and pull you into him.

“You with me doll?” He questioned.

“Mmhmm.” You hummed as you nuzzled your face into the pillow.

You’d never felt like this before. I mean sure, Bucky has definitely fucked you stupid before, but this was different. It was like your consciousness had left your body and was watching from the other side of the room. It had been so good…so what was this darkness that was starting to creep in?

The morning came quickly, Bucky had been alerted to a meeting. Needing to complete the official debriefing from his latest mission, which left you all alone in your bed. When you stirred and rolled over to find the bed empty on his side, well that was the cool wind that pushed the door open, inviting the darkness in.

Bucky found you curled up in bed like this hours later. He was immediately filled with panic, you never stayed in bed all day, not unless it was by his side. Or if you were feeling particularly down.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on? Can you tell me what’s wrong?” He questions.

Your silence only worried him further. Normally if you were going through an episode you’d at least inform him in some way that you didn’t want to talk to him. Why were you being so quiet now? He leaned down to kiss your hairline and whisper to you that he was there if you needed him. It was when two whole days had passed, and he was sure you hadn’t moved, that he became increasingly worried. He’d vented to Steve a bit and ultimately Steve couldn’t offer much advice, this was uncharted territory for him.

It was when Bucky ran into Wanda that he got the idea. If she could just tap into your head and see what was going on, maybe he could make things better. He needed to know if he had caused this, if he was the reason you were lost in the storm of your mind.

 “I don’t like to do this without consent of the person Barnes.” Wanda seethed.

“I know, but Wanda she’s your friend and she has been like this for almost three days, and I am worried about her!” Bucky rushed.

“Fine!” Wanda folded.

Bucky watched as the red fog made its way from Wanda’s fingers to your mind. Wanda’s face contorted as she made contact with your thoughts. Bucky couldn’t quite read the expression she was wearing. Wanda let a small smile grace her lips briefly before it turned into a grimace and then a scowl, directed at Bucky.

“You are lucky she is my friend, because that was way too much information.” Wanda cringed.

“So? What is it? What’s wrong with her?” Bucky begs.

“She explained it as sub drop. She had read about it, it’s like when you drop from such a high. It can hit especially bad if there isn’t proper aftercare.” Wanda explained.

Bucky nodded in understanding. He thanked Wanda and apologized for the awkwardness of the situation. He made his way to your laptop to figure out how he could make things better. Unfortunately, it seemed to be very similar to when you were in a depressive episode. He had to reassure you he was there, but ultimately waiting it out was the only option.

It took 36 more hours for you to speak to him again. He was sure he’d imagined it initially, but as you sputtered from the dryness of your throat, he made out your request.

“Water?”

He jumped up so quickly to get you the water and after you’d taken a few sips he had pulled you into his arms and held you tightly for hours.

That was three weeks ago.

“You’re never going to touch me again are you?” You wondered.

You glanced over at Bucky, who was scrolling through his phone. Presumably looking even further into the d/s dynamic you’d started. Since the incident he had expressed that you two wouldn’t engage in a scene until he was sure how to do it safely.

“Doll, I just want to make sure that we’re doing this right. That things are safe and healthy.” He explained.

“But things were safe! It was so good baby, soooo good!” You reassured him.

“You couldn’t see yourself though! I was so fucking scared.” Bucky sat up in bed and looked over to you, tears forming in his eyes. “Sweetheart it was like you were gone. I thought I had lost you. I know how you get when things go dark for a bit, but this was worse. You weren’t even talking, let alone moving or eating.”

Bucky’s explanation had honestly shocked you; you knew it had been bad and that it had shaken him, but you didn’t think it had affected him this much. You were someone who delt with seasonal depression and you were also someone who had highhighs and low lows. Finding out that the darkness you had been feeling and that had ultimately consumed you had in fact been sub drop didn’t exactly come as a shock to you. Given your history it made a lot of sense that you would be more susceptible to it. But hearing how it had messed Bucky up broke your heart and so you’d let him take his time and do the research he wanted to ensure that you could try to avoid it next time around.

You didn’t think that you would have to wait nearly TWO months.

You finally got him to snap at Tony’s annual charity gala. You had all been dressed up and Bucky looked good. You loved it when he wore a suit, Tony had made sure that he had some that were tailored perfectly. You could kiss Tony for that, it had hugged Bucky in all the right places. The problem was, Bucky was purposely not giving you the attention you wanted.

It was time to take matters into your own hands. You’d get his attention one way or another and you’d had a good idea of how to do it.

You made your way over to where Thor was standing at the bar. He was telling stories of his life on Asgard when you’d come up next to him. You wrapped one of your arms around his back and let the other lay on his chest. Thor thought nothing of this, wrapping his arm around your middle, pulling you closer.

From across the room, Bucky was watching you. His jaw clenching, hands balling into fists. He shook his head. He knew what game you were playing, and he couldn’t give in. He needed to wait until things were right. He was honestly scared. He didn’t want to relive what happened last time.

“If you’re just gonna stand there, then I am going to do something about this.” Steve scoffed he couldn’t stand to watch his friend suffer.

He watched as Steve made his way over to you and Thor. Upon his arrival your face lit up, you called out for Steve and threw your arms around him. You let your arms travel the length of his broad back, looking up into Bucky’s eyes. You turned around so your back was now facing Bucky, all the while staying in Steve’s embrace. You whispered seductively into Steve’s ear.

“I just want him to fuck me, that’s all.”

Steve’s face went bright red as he looked down into your eyes. That was it. Bucky had seen enough. He couldn’t let this go on any longer. In seconds, Bucky had made his way across the room and was now dragging you back to your shared room, mumbling something under his breath that you couldn’t quite make out.

“If you’re going to talk shit, can’t you at least say it loud enough for me to hear?” You quipped.

“Jesus. I think you forgot who you’re talking to.” Bucky said turning swiftly, gripping your chin with his metal hand. “You were the one in there parading around and putting your hands all over Steve and Thor. I mean for fucks sake.”

“Okay well maybe I was all over them because you haven’t touched me in months! I am not made of glass! Maybe I should go back out there and see if Thor is interested.” You said, feigning innocence.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Bucky growled. “Our room now. Strip and kneel.”

A shiver of anticipation made its way through your body. You couldn’t be more excited about what was to come. You figured you’d be punished, but it would all be worth it in the end. You were buzzing with excitement, unsure of what to expect as Bucky had been doing research for the past two months leading up to this moment.

You had to push your thoughts aside as you followed his orders, stripping yourself bare and kneeling at the foot of the bed, waiting for him to enter.

“Oh, so you can follow directions.” Bucky’s arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the door frame.

As badly as you’d love to snap back at him, you knew it would only piss him off more. So, you kept your mouth shut. You desperately wanted him to touch you. You had been yearning for it, and here it was finally going to happen, burning like a flame ready to consume you both.

“I want you on your hands and knees. Before I can do anything with you, you need to be punished.” His voice was calm as he spoke, making his way to the bench at the end of your bed.

“Yes sir.” You obeyed.

You got yourself into position on the floor in front of him. In his hand he was gripping his belt, you hadn’t even noticed him remove it. The thought alone had sent a rush of slick between your legs. Once you were settled, he ran the edge of the belt down your back, this caused you to jump slightly. The cool leather had been a shock against your heated skin.

“Are you ready doll? You’ll take your punishment silently, understood?” He looked to your face, gauging your every expression.

“Yes sir.” You replied quicky.

“Color?”

“Green.”

With that came the first strike of the belt. It wasn’t hard enough to put you in tears, but it was by surprise which caused you to stumble forward a bit. You could hear Bucky readjust himself as you regained your composure. The second you had righted yourself brought another strike and then another. By the fifth one, a whine slipped from your throat.

“Sorry sir.” Your voice was hoarse.

“See that’s the thing, good girls don’t need to apologize because they do what they’re told.” With that he snapped his belt against your already reddening cheeks.

“I can be your good girl sir.” You pleaded.

“Oh, I know you can be, I just don’t think you want to be. I think you like being a little brat because it leads to this.”

Bucky’s words and tone had gone straight to your core. The research he’d done must’ve been damn good because you were in pure ecstasy. You were dripping down your thighs, so much so, you knew he could see it.

“Alright doll. Five more, and I want you to count them out. Color?” He checked in.

“Yes sir. Green.” You barely got the words out before the belt fell against your skin.

“One.”

Another strike.

“Two.”

Another. This time slightly harder.

“Three.”

The next one was lower, the leather lightly grazing your lips. You couldn’t help the strangled gasp that escaped your mouth.

“Four.”

“Color?” He was quick to check in, worried about the sound you’d released.

“Green.”

“Doll. Color?” He didn’t believe you.

“Green sir. I’m so green.” You could hear the arousal in your own voice.

“Good.” He said as he brought the belt down one final time.

“Five.”

Bucky threw his belt to the side, grabbing you by your elbow pulling you up off the floor. You stumbled a bit, your knees weak from having been on the floor for some time. He looked at you with lust blown eyes. He gripped your face and kissed you with the passion you had been missing these last two months. You two stayed like that a moment, before he finally pulled back.

“Up on the bed, on your back.” He ordered as he began to rid himself of his clothes.

You scrambled up onto the bed, waiting for his next move. Watching him, desperately wanting his touch as he removed his tie and dress shirt. He brought the tie over towards you.

“Arms up sweetheart.” He instructed.

“Bu-” You had to stop yourself.

“No. You sat and had your hands all over Thor and Steve. I think you need to learn that touching is a privilege to be earned.” He said as he pulled your hands up over your head securing them both to the headboard with his silk tie.

This was a new side to Bucky, his tone, how domineering he was being. You could already feel yourself becoming more and more fuzzy. This is better than what you had imagined when you’d first brought up the dom/sub dynamic.

Once your hands we secured, Bucky took a step back, clearly admiring his handywork. He let out a low growl as he made his way back to you, between your legs.

“Christ doll. You’ve made a mess. Who’s got you this wet?” He had a teasing tone.

“You sir! You do!” You wanted nothing more than him to touch you, your body was practically vibrating in anticipation.

He leaned down to your ear, breath hot on your skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying hard to focus on his words.

“That’s right doll. Remember who makes you feel this good.”

He plunged two of his Vibranium fingers into your dripping heat and you let out a strangled cry.

“Bucky!”

This only encouraged his behavior. He sped up the pace of his thrusts, leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. You tugged at your restraints, wanting nothing more than to run your fingers through his gorgeous hair. Your hips were lifting up off the mattress, begging for something more. He pressed his pelvis into yours to aide in stilling your movements. His fingers curling up, perfectly grazing that spot inside you. His lips transferred to your other nipple, sure to give it attention before making his way down your body.

You could feel yourself nearing the edge as he attached his lips to your clit. You gasped; his actions having stolen all the air from your lungs.

“Oh my god, yes. Please! I’m gon-I’m so close.” You’d managed to get out.

“Hold it.” Bucky demanded, his eyes gazing up to yours.

“What? I don’t…I don’t think I can.” You and bucky had talked about orgasm denial and truthfully it had been an exciting topic.

“You can and you will, if you want my cock.” He stated, his teeth grazing your clit gently.

He continued working his fingers in and out of your cunt and his tongue against your clit all the while you were doing everything in your power to think of anything but the pleasure you were feeling in hopes to prolong the arrival of your orgasm. This went on for what felt like an eternity before he finally uttered the words.

“Cum now.”

That was all it took for the gush of wetness to release from you and all over his fingers. You cried out, tears streaming down your face, your body shaking from the pleasure. Bucky was sure to stop slowly, not wanting to shock you with an abrupt end to the pleasure before untying your wrists and moving to your next positions.

“You still with me doll?” Bucky asked, gently caressing your face.

“Mmm, yes” you said, attempting to catch your breath.

“Good, because I’m not done with you yet.”  He kissed you once more before helping to position you.

Bucky was sat, leaning against the headboard. He pulled you up into his lap, your back pressed firmly against his chest as he lowered you onto his cock, both of you letting out low moans. His hands moved from your hips, his Vibranium hand back to your clit and his flesh hand to your jaw, turning your head.

“Eyes open sweetheart.” He instructed you.

As you opened your eyes you could see that he had positioned you in such a way that you could see everything in your full-length mirror that was sat in the corner of the room.

“I want to see your gorgeous face when you cum on my cock.” He whispered into your ear.

“But wait, what about…” You started.

“Uh-Uh. Baby tonight is about me reminding you who you belong to. Got it?” The way he could read your mind was like pure magic.

“Yes sir.” You obeyed.

His hand turned your face a bit further so he could capture your lips in a kiss, before turning you back toward the mirror then landing around your neck. Bucky applied a bit of pressure there, analyzing your reactions in your reflection. Your eyes meet his in the mirror and you nod subtly, your lips ghosting over the word green.

He didn’t need any more reassurance; your consent was the release of the flood gates. Bucky used his hand on your neck as a sort of anchor as he snapped his hips up into your own, his Vibranium fingers working over your clit. Pushing you to the edge, you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold back this time. Looking at Bucky’s eyes in the mirror once more, he could see the broken plea in your expression.

“Go ahead baby, cum on my cock.” He grunted.

You couldn’t form words or thoughts as your orgasm crashed over you. You felt the pressure in your lower body release along with a wave of wetness around Bucky’s cock. Your breathing was shallow as he continued to fuck up into you, chasing his own release. You could feel him become more ragged, his breaths and his thrusts, he was close, and you couldn’t wait to be filled with him.

“Fuck sweetheart, your pussy is so fucking tight.” He huffed out as he spilled inside you, his seed coating your walls as his hips slowed.

The room was quiet, save for your breaths returning to normal, Bucky’s hands had moved from your clit and your throat to wrap around your middle, hugging you to him as he pressed gentle kisses to your neck and shoulders. Worry was beginning to consume his as you still hadn’t said anything, and you wore that same fuzzy expression as last time.

“You okay doll?” Bucky asked.

“Mmhmm, I’m good baby.” You mumbled, pulling his hand up so you could lay a kiss against his palm.

“Good, let’s go get you cleaned up.” He released a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding.

Bucky slid the two of you off the bed, trying to keep the mess to a minimum. When you made it to the edge, he slowly lifted you off of his lap, causing you to whine. He shushed you gently rubbing circles on your hips as he inspected your ass for the damage he had caused. It was red and angry, no broken skin, but there were welts that he knew would hurt for the days to come.

“It’s okay bub, I can’t even feel it.” You muttered, knowing he might be cursing himself for causing you pain.

“You can’t feel it now doll, that’s the adrenaline. But tomorrow they’re going to hurt. Let’s get you in the bath.”

He led you into your bathroom. He started the water, making sure it was nice and warm. Then he went into your cabinets to retrieve the Epsom salt and bubble bath to add to the water. The room started to fill with steam and the scent of lavender. You looked over at Bucky and smiled, he reached for your hand and guided you to sit in front of him in the tub. You let out a sigh of relief as you slid into the hot water, muscles relaxing as you lean back against him.

“That’s it. I’ve got you.” Bucky praised.

“Thank you bub.” You whispered, closing your eyes.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. Arms wrapping tighter around your middle.

“I love you baby. Promise you’ll tell me if you start feeling down again?” He says, nuzzling his nose at the base of your neck.

“I love you Buck. And I promise.”

The two of you stay in the bath until the water becomes tepid. Bucky has to rouse you, so you don’t slip down into the water further as he removes himself from behind you. Once freed, he bends down to scoop you out of the tub, settling you on the towel that awaits on the counter. He bundles you up in the warmth of the fabric, drying you off carefully. He looks in your expectant eyes and lets you know he needs to go change the sheets. Unbeknownst to you he had thrown them in the dryer when he went to grab your towels before the bath.

He had been gone for a bit, so you hopped off the counter, making your way to the bedroom only to see him placing a tray on the freshly made bed. On it were two glasses of water, some cut up berries and a piece of buttered toast. Tears sprung to your eyes as you took in the sight.

“Ah, doll, I was going to come and get you!” He explained.

“Sorry bub. This is all so sweet.” You sniffled.

He slowly made his way to you, pulling you into his arms. He kisses the top of your head before removing your towel and pulling one of his t-shirts over your head. He walks the two of you over to the bed and you notice the bottle of wound care on the side table.

“Can you lay on your stomach for me doll?” He pleads.

You nod and do as you’re told, laying down and sliding the t-shirt up to expose your raw skin. Bucky is careful in his movements trying not to agitate the skin any further as he rubs the cream into your skin. He leans down to press a kiss to your hip. He scoots up a bit and moves to your wrists, gently massaging them as well, wanting to ensure they also get attention after having been bound. As he rights your positions to cuddle with one another up at the headboard, he feeds you the snacks he brought and makes a promise to spend the next few days by your side.

“Bub you don’t have to do that.” You explained.

“No doll. I’ll do things right this time.” He promised.

[vrystalius]

hello!!!! i hope you’ve been enjoying my boops 😔✋ also, i wanted to ask if you could do a akaza halloween post where you’re celebrating it with him 😚 thank youuu

Celebrating Halloween with Akaza

He felt like a doll, being dressed up and dragged along for the sake of your candy hunting. You’re lucky he loves you.

Pairing: Akaza x gn!reader

His whole face scrunched together in an attempt to not sneeze right at your face while you were padding setting power all over his face. After you finished, Akaza let out a couple of coughs and wanted to scratch his cheek, but you slapped his hand away. You just beautifully covered the blue stripes on your boyfriend’s face and added lots of cute blush, some stars and hearts, making him look all pretty. You even bought some pink mascara for his lashes, but the nasty look he gave you after presenting it to him was enough to not use it on him. Perhaps next year.

Akaza didn’t plan on joining you on your hunt for candy, instead keeping an eye on you from the safety of the rooftops, following you from up there and watching you have fun, but after begging and begging for hours, he finally gave into being dressed up. He refused to even touch any of the princess dresses you offered to him but tolerated wearing his signature pink haori and some pink baggy pants you gave him. After crowning him with a cheap, plastic tiara and changing into your own costume, you dragged your boyfriend by his arm to go out and get candy. Akaza was silently brooding the whole time, trailing behind you while also keeping a small distance. He was acting like he doesn’t want to be associated with you while also following behind you like a puppy.

He glared at every child and adult that stared at him for too long, balling his fists together and using you as a human shield to hide himself to be further stared at. You concluded that your trip to gather candy should be cut short, or else Akaza might get agitated or overstimulated by being around all these humans, his costume might adding to his embarrassment further.

You sat him down in your bathroom and wiped all the make-up away, him groaning loudly after finally being able to touch his own face normally again. He patted his cheeks lightly, feeling around for different textures. Glancing in the mirror, Akaza checked the mirror for the his stripes and checked if they’re all still there (where should they even go? You’re not sure how he got the idea of loosing his stripes by putting make-up on top of them).

“I don’t like Halloween. It’s stupid. Humans use the holiday as an excuse to send children out for candy.”

Halloween used to be celebrated to scare evil spirits away— now that you’re thinking about it, dressing him up and going outside to collect candy did manage to agitate Akaza to the point of wanting to leave and never return. He was not impressed by the amount of candy you managed to gather. His humiliation is not worth one sad pile of it. As some sort of compensation, your boyfriend rested his head on your thigh while you sat on your bed and sorted your treasures, relaxing against you and watching your hands hold sweets and inspecting them one by one.

Akaza stayed the whole night and held you in his arms, until you finally fell asleep after calming down from your sugar-rush. Although he dislikes Halloween and hates being dressed up even more, your boyfriend liked spending time with you, however you may want to spend it. Even if it is to practice your make-up skills on his face.

💠

I enjoyed your boops very much, I evil and super booped at you almost everytime you did I think! Also, I sadly won’t be able to write the request you send in a month ago (about Nicole from class 09) since I am not familiar with the character or the media, and after reading through her wiki, I found out that she is quite the complex character :,) I am so sorry! I hoped you enjoyed this though. This is the last Halloween post I’ll make, I promise! XD This just was too nice to pass up on!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough <3

Take care of yourselves!

[digitaldamage]

PLEASE GIVE ME TANNER HEADCANNONS IF YOU WERE BRATTY I READ A FIC OF IT AND IM OBSESSED

i think i know exactly what fic you’re talking about and i’m ALSO obsessed

• it takes a lot to make tanner angry or fire him up, he’s naturally a very laid back and go with the flow person

• but if there’s anyone who knows how to dance along that line, it’s you

• you love to tease him and make little remarks

it starts to get nsfw here so if that makes you uncomfy check out my sfw posts!!

• walking by him and brushing your hand across his shoulders or his lower stomach

• dropping something near him “on accident” and bending down a bit far to pick it back up

• when he catches on and tells you to stop you just act clueless, that ALWAYS gets him

• “baby, you’re so smart. don’t play dumb with me, and don’t think i don’t see exactly what you’re trying to do to me.��

• of course, you keep pushing it

• “i’m not trying to do anything to you. i can’t pick things up anymore?”

• and with that he’s picking you up and taking you to his room. if you two are already in there, expect to begin flying in his bed’s direction

• SPANKS. 100%. he loves bending you over his lap and smacking your ass until you yelp and kick your feet every time his hand makes contact

• when he stops you sit up on the bed against the wall and spread your legs, he just laughs

• “you think you’re gonna get what you want now? you still owe me a very sincere apology darling.” he growls as he’s taking off his pants

• when you go down on him, he grabs your hair but he’s not a head pusher. instead, he holds your head still and fucks your throat until he can hear you trying to get air

• ONLY then does he FINALLY give you what you want. almost.

• he knows you want him to take you completely, you want him to be rough. but since you couldn’t behave, he does the opposite.

• he’ll start thrusting painfully slow, placing soft kisses to your chest, neck, and face while the whole time you’re whining and begging him with tears in your eyes to go faster

• after what feels like hours he finally gives you what you want, only because HE can’t take going slow anymore

• with no time to adjust he’s thrusting into you so hard it knocks the wind out of you. your nails are digging into his back and all you can do is lay there with your mouth open and try to look at tanner, which proves to be difficult as your eyes are rolling into the back of your head

• just when it can’t feel any better he wraps a hand around your throat and leans next to your ear

• “bet you won’t do that shit again, huh? best behave or next time i’ll bend you over in the living room.”

• you weren’t listening and he knew that, you had stopped listening the second you felt him inside you

• though it’s supposed to be punishment, he always makes sure you finish before him, he can be dominant but he’s not evil, you know?

• once you’re done, it’s like you had never fired him up in the first place. he pulls out and starts placing those soft kisses on your body again.

• “are you alright, beautiful?” he asks, you haven’t moved or said a word yet. you were so exhausted all you could do was nod your head. he chuckled and went to the bathroom to run you two a bath

• he carried you and sat you down in between his legs, washing your hair and your body all while STILL kissing all over you

• afterwards he carries you to bed and lays you on top of him, running his fingers through your hair.

• you may be a brat, but you’re HIS brat, and he loves you endlessly

[imagine-that-100]

Chicken Shop Date | Part 9 |

By @imagine-that-100​​ and @alovesreading​​

Description: Matty Healy x Reader (Female) | You and your best friend Amelia came up with a very simple idea of taking celebrities on awkward chicken shop dates, and somehow, it’s managed to become both of your jobs. In the past, you’ve found sitting across from some of the biggest stars on the planet and eating chicken nuggets easy. But then Amelia manages to score you a date with the man who you’ve been obsessed with since you were nineteen; Matty Healy.

Word Count: 38.8k

A/N: SURPRISEEEE!!!! We are so very sorry it's been so long but this is a long chapter so we hope you forgive us! You would have gotten this yesterday but turns out there is a limit on tumblr and we went over it and I wasn't going to post it elsewhere and leave us tumblr lot behind. So sorry for the delay but we're here! This is going to be so so so much fun, we really hope you enjoy it. We adore this chapter and we hope you like it as much as we do. Please let us know what you think, we won't keep you any longer, go enjoy! Thanks so much for reading x

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 |

| N’s Masterlist | A’s Masterlist |

After the Belfast show, you felt like you were on cloud nine. Matty and you could finally let yourselves be seen together without any worries, and despite not being huge on PDA, it felt so good knowing that you can just be hand in hand with your boyfriend without worrying about being seen by people outside your inner circle. 

The only downside to it all was the fact that the tour was over and you had to go home, only to leave it an hour later. You were not going home with your boyfriend this time, Matty was going back to Manchester with the lads for their Gorilla gig which you were unfortunately missing since your Copenhagen trip was stealing you away for the first three days of the month.

Knowing that you were an hour ahead of him, you made sure to be back from dinner early so that you were in bed and ready to indulge in the madness and properly let yourself react. There was no way you weren’t crying watching the videos people would post. And if you managed to find a livestream like you had for a handful of shows in the US, you knew you’d be an utter mess. 

Seeing the mess of tweets on your timeline had you getting nervous, and instead of letting it all out in the form of multiple distressed tweets, you decided to let it out in the form of a desperate message to your boyfriend: I think you should cancel Gorilla since I won’t be able to attend x

Unfortunately, he didn’t give you the answer you wanted because your phone vibrates less than half a minute later and you can almost hear him giggling as you read his message saying, I’m five minutes away from going on stage baby little bit late for that xx

You can’t stop yourself from scoffing and you know he definitely can picture your reaction when all you reply with is, Don’t care xxx

Matty knows how to get you though, because you bite your tongue when his text comes through and it says, Oh but you do and it’s very cute of you to pretend xxx

The only way you can think of getting him to pity you for missing this is by being entirely honest, so you quickly send, I would have cancelled this trip if I knew when you posted that insta story that it was gonna be a self titled show 😭 xxx

Reading him saying, Don’t worry I’ll play them again for you xxx makes you pout because you want to be in that crowd experiencing it for the first time like everyone else.

It’s not the same but thank you x is your first answer, in instinct, but then you give it a quick thought and your fingers quickly type, But since you so kindly offered I expect to be serenaded, I want candles, I want eye contact, I want my own acoustic set of self titled x

You laugh at yourself like a fool at just the image of that actually happening and so you finish your string of texts by adding, No pressure or anything though xxx

His answer is just, I’ll make a note x and you know exactly the way his face is contorted at his phone, with that smirk that’s almost mocking and his wide eyes framed by lifted brows. 

Thank you xxx you reply, biting your bottom lip, you miss him pathetically so and you wish even harder you were there, not only to experience what’s about to happen but to have him next to you again. After being joined at the hip for a month, it came as a heavy weight on your chest to be away from each other.

That weight gets heavier when you read he’s sent, About to go out baby, hope you’re having a great time with Dimz. Miss you lots, you’re here in spirit xx

Before he goes, you quickly reply, Miss you too!! I suppose I hope it goes amazing 🥺 Don’t fuck the lyrics up you grandad xx

Of course, his response to that is a, I make no promises xx that has you rolling your eyes and chuckling. He follows that with a sweet, I’ll text you after xxx 

Melting further into the bed, you send back a wholehearted, Stop texting me and play the album that made me love your music xx before you go back to Twitter to become part of the collective meltdown.

That last text made it almost impossible for Matty to stop smiling for the whole of the gig. It was an hour and a half of pure joy for him to be playing his first album again in Manchester of all places and he knew that he could come straight back off stage and you would be there for him to talk to about just how much he loved it. 

But the lovely surprise that he got was that his phone had been bombarded with texts already and seeing that they were all from you made him grin like a fool. Even when he opened your messages and he saw the first you send after you bid him goodbye made him laugh out loud. 

I’ve just found a link to a livestream and I can wholeheartedly say: I hate you.

You didn’t tell me you were putting a fucking box out from the self titled era. I hate you.

No. No. No. 

Something inside him aches when he reads another of your first spamming of messages. 

It’s like I’ve travelled back in time to your 2014 show but I’m not there to see it in person like I was back then, what the fuck Matty?!?!?!!!? 

It makes him wish that he found you back then. That you could have been together for so much longer than you currently have been. All he wants is more time with you and he already can’t wait to see you again. Even though you might be a little upset with him after how you’ve described his show. 

This is a cruel form of torture. 

Matty finds himself snorting when he reads one that came in just moments after the last, Why wouldn’t you professionally stream this you twat.

It’s a good idea from you to be fair. It makes him think that he should have actually done it to raise more money for War Child, especially since the whole show was being professionally recorded for the band's sake anyway. 

Before he can scold himself too much he reads your next text which again has the curly haired singer laughing out loud when he sees: I’m crying to fucking MONEY. The hold you have over me is insane. 

He can picture you crying to that song, probably as you try to sing along as well, and the scene he’s got in his head just makes it harder for him to stop laughing. In between giggles and half lidded eyes, he continues reading the following texts.

Did you really just get the lyrics wrong to talk you fucking muppet. It’s the easiest song you have. WHY DO YOU TALK SO LOUD!!! 

He knows for a fact he will hear shit from you on that front because he knows that tonight he was bad with the lyrics. But he will argue that he can’t be expected to remember them all when he’s getting older and he has more banging tunes in his repertoire to remember these days. And he hasn’t listened to self titled properly in full since the album listening party on twitter back in 2020 weeks before Notes came out. 

There must have been a small gap where you actually watched the stream you found, as you don’t send anything about Sex or Chocolate despite them being absolute bangers (if he does say so himself). He has no doubt you were either grinning like a fool as you sang along or probably crying and singing along if your earlier messages were anything to go by. 

Heart Out is still a fuckin bop, it’s awful it’s not on the setlist permanently.

That one has him smiling, but he’s grinning like a fucking moron in response to the next song on the setlist. He can practically hear you saying the following messages he received like you are in the room with him. 

Settle fucking Down. Holy shit Matthew! 

Still remember being so confused when the video to this first came out, I had no fucking clue what was going on but christ it’s such a good song I don’t care. 

Matty can’t help but find that one funny because there was definitely a vision for it that not everyone got but it made sense to him so he just ran with it. But it’s your next few messages that have him shaking his head trying not to grin at his phone like a fool.

You better do that high note!!

Do that fucking high note you slut!!!!

YASSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m crying again. Over a fucking high note. I need mental help. 

If you don’t wanna be with me after this I understand but you needed to know at some point how deep this obsession for your music ran. 

No I can’t handle Robbers right now you dick why would you do this to me?!!!???!

As endearing as he finds the warning of your obsession and his get out of jail free card, it wasn’t as if he didn’t already know what he was in for. You have a tattoo already showcasing that love for his music and he’d seen the way you lit up even during his soundchecks when it was practically just you in the audience and even then you looked like you were having the time of your life listening to his music. 

And it wasn't as if you don’t tell each other you’re obsessed with each other anyway. Matty knows what he’s in for and he’s certain nothing could scare him off at this point. 

Not when all his chest can do is ache with longing to speak to you when he reads your next chunk of messages.

I’m at she way out and I’m still crying 

Play this song more often!

Menswear goddddd!!! 

Did you know I’ve had an amaretto at every wedding I’ve attended in the last ten years because of this song? 

You’ve cost me so much money. And that’s not including your tickets and your merch. 

Matty chuckles at those but even more so when he realises the album must have finished and in response to that you decided to inform him.

I’m depressed now. What are you going to do about it??? 

But clearly you’re cured by the time he starts playing the next song because you’re even virtually singing along and he can practically feel the way you screamed it at your phone as you pressed send. 

SELLING PETROLLLLLLLLL

But then you clearly have a giggle with yourself as immediately after you were scolding him.

Your fave essential oil lmfao 

You’re an idiot for not knowing what an essential oil is.

The singer vaguely remembers the interview you're referencing. The miscommunication with an American somehow got him in the shit with fans at the time and clearly now with you which is almost unfair when the woman interviewing him didn’t even know what petrol was… So much for being a fan of his band when petrol is a literal lyric.

Your next few messages make him smile and his heart skip a beat. He really should have asked you to film yourself reacting to the whole gig because imagining your face when reading each message wasn’t enough.

Happiness slaps every damn time, you put something in that song I swear. 

And he can’t help but smirk at the compliment, and his smirk only gets bigger when he reads the next text. 

Definitely like you better when you take off your clothes 😜 

The heat that rushes through him is exchanged for amusement when his gaze falls on your next text and the laugh that escapes his lips is uncontrollable. 

BE MY MISTAKE AFTER ALL OF THIS ARE YOU FUCKING JOKING!!!!!!!!!

Prepare for a slap the next time I see you. I’m crying again. 

He imagines the slap will be even harder when he reads what you’ve spammed him with barely 15 minutes ago.

NOT ABOUT YOU 

MATTHEW TIMOTHY HEALY 

WHAT THE FUCKKKKK

Well the tears are streaming now well done. Hope you're happy.

You can’t leave it there. 

Are you kidding?????? 

Ending on about you?!??!?!?!!! After self-titled in full??!?!?! You’ve murdered a nation.

Hate you x

Matty snorts at that one. He knows you don’t mean it though because your next message is too kind and he can’t stop smiling at his phone.

Christ I hope you left your phone backstage lollll sorryyyyy xxxx 

Message me when you can xx Really proud of you xxx

Reading that makes his heart swell an embarrassing amount. It’s certain he goes all gooey inside, the buzz from getting off stage sweetened by the rush of joy that hearing from you causes him. 

Of course he thanks you and he apologises for upsetting you, and when you tell him not to he just apologises again to get a rise out of you, loving that you’re so easy to wind up. You tell him how much you loved it but you’re more keen to know if he enjoyed it.

He tells you that he did, but it doesn’t put a patch on the banquet records gig where he spotted you in the crowd and he told you that he missed having you there. 

Matty texts you on and off for the next hour, starting off with you telling him that you’d enjoyed the set but obviously he wanted to leave you to your fun with Amelia, so he tried not to bother you too much. And knowing that you were an hour ahead of him in Copenhagen meant that he knew you needed to get some sleep soon. 

That being said he couldn’t deny himself a bit longer talking to you whilst you were still coherent. He wishes he could ring you and hear your voice but people weren’t even leaving him alone to text you. He asked you how your night had been knowing you had your first brand event to be at this evening. 

You tell him how fun it was, and admit that you felt imposter syndrome takeover again but somehow managed to not let that become too unmanageable so it didn’t ruin your night. He could practically picture everything as you explained about how they had everyone congregate for a sit down meal, all of you wearing some of the brands new line of clothes so you could help them promote it, and how it was a lot of fun having free cocktails and food with your best friend and your stylist before coming back a bit early so you could catch the livestream. 

As Matty was chatting to you, he got another text from a number that was yet to be saved to his phone. It was curiosity alone by the image he could see that was attached to it that led him to click on it. And thank Christ he did. 

It turns out Amelia had acquired his phone number, probably from you at some point. But this was the first he was hearing from her and he’s glad he did because she was giving him such glorious content. Opening the text, Matty chuckles when he reads, 

I think I deserve compensation for you and your silly box band for having my best friend like this for the 7474526273743rd time!!!!!!!!!!

And yes she’s drunk

The picture of you that she’s sent makes him giggle. You’re sitting cross-legged on the bed with your laptop just in front of you, in one hand you’re holding an almost empty glass of red wine and the other is wiping away your evident tears from your cheeks. 

Matty giggles seeing that, but his heart goes out to you simultaneously because he of course doesn’t ever want to make you upset. However, Amelia is clearly the one that needs the next text.

I can arrange compensation for you 

Her reply doesn’t even take 10 seconds to come through.

Does that compensation have a first and last name??? Thinking beginning with R and M?????

The singer genuinely has to pause for a second there. That’s again another time someone has started pining for Ross and the maths isn’t quite mathsing in his head. People really like Ross this much?

Regardless, Matty quickly types back, Okay stop thirsting, your best friend is drunk

Her reply is again fast, but this time instead of confusing him it makes him grin like a lunatic, 🙄 Yeah I’m well aware, she can’t stop yapping about you

He feels all fuzzy inside at the mere thought of making you happy when you talk to each other. And the fact you tell your best friend about him just makes him think that he’s doing everything right. He feels like he definitely is, because he’s certain he would have heard from Amelia before now if he hadn’t.

Matty ends up responding cockily, Thought you’d be used to that by now?, before he adds your best friend as a contact and names her Dimz. 

It somehow has gotten worse, Matty reads her reply come through as he’s searching for the chicken emoji to put next to her name.

He can’t help but snort, Who would’ve thought????

After going back to chat to you for a little longer, Matty realises the car that's dropping him off is close to home now, not even two minutes away and when he tells you this, you decide that it’s time to bid each other goodnight. You tell him to send his family your love and you both promise to phone each other when you get up the following morning to properly catch up. 

It’s difficult not to carry on texting you when he makes it inside his childhood home. He’s so used to chatting to you before you go to sleep after the last month of being on tour together that it's a little strange for him. 

He stays awake chatting to his Mum and Lincoln for a little while before he heads upstairs knackered now after a long day of socialising and entertaining. He briefly sends some memes off to the group chat as he gets himself ready for bed before he sees in his notifications centre that he’s missed another text.

It’s from Amelia again and she only sent it 15 minutes ago, so the singer quickly taps on it as he gets himself into bed. 

Had to take her out to console her with her favourite coffee… 

Seeing the photo that she’s sent, Matty genuinely thinks his heart may burst out of his chest. He sends off a gooey response of love heart emojis back but after that he’s transfixed at the sight of you. 

In the picture you're laughing holding your coffee but you’ve managed to somehow get the whipped cream on your nose. The sight is adorable, you’re so cute and you easily have Matty’s heart longing for you, his pulse racing at the thought of being close to you again and making you laugh like that in person. 

It’s probably not good for his heart, getting into a relationship again when he’s due out on such a big world tour. Missing you is going to hurt him more than he could probably cope, but the moments with you are so worth the brief pain of not being with you for a bit. 

Looking at this picture of you, he can’t help but let his imagination run wild. Making you laugh and giggle like this in person on all the dates he’ll take you on in the future. He can picture you holding your drink with a diamond adorning your left ring finger too as you hold up your cup, and he’d take pride in knowing one day soon he’d get to marry the girl he loves.

He loves you.

God, he loves you so damn much. 

And it only dawns on him just how much as he stares at this picture of you giggling with whipped cream smeared on your nose. Obsessed truly isn’t the word anymore, he’s well and truly head over heels for you. 

Matty saves the picture in a heartbeat and quickly makes the picture his lockscreen so he can be reminded just how in love he is everytime he looks at his phone. And Matty falls asleep grinning like an absolute fool at the picture of his girlfriend knowing he’s deeply and madly in love with her. 

~*~*~*~

Your phone rings alive and startles you out of the conversation you were having with Amelia as you waited right by your gate. When you check the screen to see who’s calling, you smile and feel your insides be coated with the familiar warmth that your boyfriend brings to you whenever he’s mentioned, or when something reminds you of him, or he calls or texts you.

“Hey Matty.” You answer quickly, a big grin on your face that he can picture just from the pitch of your voice. 

He matches it, and his smile reaches his eyes as he greets you softly, “Heya baby, how are you doing? Hope you’ve had a nice last morning.” Amelia rolls her eyes and fakes a muted gag before going to her phone when she hears it’s your boyfriend calling you, it makes you snort.

“I’m okay, thank you. And yesss, it’s been good.” Remembering the lovely time you’ve had in Copenhagen makes your smile the tiniest bit bigger but then you remember the time difference and you’re frowning, “But why are you awake so early?” 

It’s merely an hour behind that he’s at but you know he appreciates sleeping in in the morning, just as you do, so you thought he’d still be asleep hence why you’d sent him a quick text that read, At our gate waiting to board! See you soon baby xx which he had yet to reply. 

Your frown dissipates and you’re left smiling like a fool again when his words, laced with sweetness, come to the admission of, “I get to see you in a few hours. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Stop it.” You let out automatically, your cheeks starting to heat up and hurt from how big you’re smiling. 

Matty doesn’t help your case trying to seem cool when he chats back with a smooth, “It’s the truth.” He’d seen your message come through and suddenly the day was perfect already.

You can see him shrugging and offering you one of his nonchalant smiles, and your heart squeezes in your chest picturing him with his face puffy from sleep and his curls messy, tired eyes trying to stay open and that loopy smile he gives you whenever you wake up beside him. 

“I hope you went to sleep early then.” You bargain for that, trying to feel less bad about him being up this early to check on you, or worse woken up by your text.

He hums softly in confirmation, “Accidentally did actually, weed knocked me out.” 

“Well I’m glad you got some sleep at least, but don’t wake up on my account.” He’s your boyfriend and all but you were still going to text him when you were boarding and when you landed so that he wouldn’t worry, he really didn’t need to cut his sleep short for you.

“Hush now,” He waves you off lightheartedly, “What’s your flight number and what time are you due back?”

“Due in at Heathrow at 11:25am,” You reply easily but a thought sparks in your mind and you giggle to yourself before you correct your actions, “One sec, let me actually send you a pic of the board because I know you’ll forget.”

“Okay, thank you baby.” He finds himself stupidly swooning over how easy it has been for you to pick up on his habits, the good and the bad. “I’ll pick you and Dimz up - and if it’s okay with you after we’ve dropped Dimz off we can head back to yours?”

His suggestion warms your heart but you really don’t want to be a burden so you easily reply, “You don’t have to get us, Matty, it’s okay. We can get a taxi.”

“No, I want to and I want to see you.” It’s not like he was asking if he should pick you up, he already was going to do that. He was just trying to suggest you two go back to your flat considering how much comfort that would bring compared to going back to his house after a month away from home. “Dimz too, obviously, but I wanna see you and I bet you are dying to sleep in your own bed again after a month away.”

“God, I really am.” Just picturing falling back into your own bed sounds so heavenly, your words come out in a softened moan that amuses him, and it’s when you add, “Might be more excited for that than to see you.” that he actually giggles.

“Oh, I see how it is.” 

“I’m joking, I’m joking.” You quickly say to take it back but Matty knows you actually meant it and he finds it so endearing. 

“You’re not and that’s fine.” He corrects you and the giggle that accompanies it soothes you that he can read you so easily.

With a sigh, you let out, “You know me scarily well.”

And it has him proudly adding, “Well you are my girlfriend. I intend to find every last detail about you, and you loving your sleep seems like a big part of your day.”

“Yep, now you know why your date was at two o’clock.” It’s probably the time of the day that has you admitting that, even though you know it might’ve been embarrassing to admit that before, it feels right to just share your train of thought back then. 

He hums softly, taking a few seconds to do a bit of maths in his head about how your day must’ve been leading up to the date, “Still must have got up pretty early if you got up and did your make up and trekked it all the way from Brixton to over my way and to set up and everything by two.” His brows raised when he reached his conclusion, knowing the effort it must’ve taken for you to wake up that early for it all, “You must’ve got up at like ten, maybe nine and that’s early for you.”

“I actually couldn’t sleep properly the night before our date so I think I got up around six.” It's almost like in a whisper that you admit that, and you giggle at the soft gasp he lets out.

“Six o’clock?! Wow baby you really must’ve been tired that day.” 

He hears you hesitate when you think back to that day, only being able to remember how it all started and your heart grows in size in your chest, “Nothing you didn’t wake me up from when you asked for that fucking kiss.”

“Hey, if I hadn't asked for that kiss then we wouldn’t be talking right now.” He quips back in a heartbeat, and he takes a moment to think back to that day with pride and so much appreciation for everything you’ve shared of yourself with him since then.

“Never said I didn’t appreciate the kiss.” It’s the first thing you say, just to clear up because there’s not one kiss of his that you’d never appreciate. And then you continue, “I just preferred the one outside where there weren’t any cameras or anyone else watching me kiss the guy who was my lockscreen for almost five years.”

Matty smirks when he hears that, but he plays on the past tense of your statement to tease you, “I best be your lockscreen again.” 

“My lockscreen is actually a picture of Ross from the gorilla gig.” You quickly reply, lying with ease to taunt him back.

And you have to bite your bottom lip to swallow a laugh when his voice drops to an unimpressed tone when he says, “You better be joking.”

You don’t relent in your effort to give him a taste of his own medicine and, nonchalantly, continue adding to your bluff, “Nope, he looked so good.” 

The only answer your boyfriend can give you is an ultimatum that makes you laugh, “You have until you get home to change it.”

But you play into his petition by asking him, “What would you prefer it to be?”

“I don’t know, a picture of us maybe or just one of me.” You shake your head and roll your eyes to yourself when he says that, knowing that if he was beside you and he’d seen Ross as your lockscreen, he would’ve taken multiple selfies in that very moment and chosen his favourite to replace his best friend.

You hum as if you’re deliberating whether or not that being a good call, eventually you come back to him with, “Ames will call me a simp.”

To which he wastes no time to answer, firm conviction when he says, “And you are one. You’re obsessed with me, remember?” 

“Mmm yeah, I guess I am.” You give into him, this game that you always get in with him giving you an endless rumble of butterflies in your belly that makes you wanna giggle. “Guess I’ll change it.” You end up giving in, a tone in your voice that tells him you’re being kind making that decision.

He overlooks the sassiness in your voice to comment, “Good because you’ve been my home and lockscreen for a while.” knowing that it would bring you out of your jokey state. 

Though, you still are in it because you chuckle and reply to that with a mocking, “Lucky you getting to see my ugly mug every time you’re on your phone.”

“Shut up.” He calls you out almost hissing under his breath, “You’re gorgeous. You’re everything.” There’s something laced around the last word he lets out and Amelia finally lifts her head up when she sees you dramatically letting your head fall back on the seat and you clearly flustered at whatever your boyfriend has just said. She squints when she sees the glimmering of your eyes being a product of the tears starting to pool in your eyes. 

Matty hears you sigh heavily and he’s the one to melt completely when you say, “Don’t make me cry this early in the morning, Matty.” A call for him to have mercy on your heart. You can’t believe he has you acting like this in the morning in the middle of the airport.

Amelia takes the chance to chip into the conversation, even though she can’t hear Matty, and she leans into your side so she can loudly say into the speakers of your phone, “Please don’t. You know what she’s like when she’s overtired.”

You roll your eyes at your best friend but she flips you off as she sits back straight, not managing to listen to Matty replying with a, “I do, indeed.” followed by him talking to you directly afterwards, “You best sleep on the plane, baby.” 

“I’ll try.” You halfheartedly promise. It’s only a 2 hour flight back so you don’t know if you’ll be able to catch sleep that quickly after boarding, and if you do, you’re afraid you’ll wake up all grumpy from only getting a fleeting rest.

“Okay, I’ll let you go now then.” Matty offers you softly, and knowing then that you’re so soon due back beside him makes his heart squeeze in his chest, “Can’t wait to see you soon baby, I’ve missed you.”

This time, you just can’t hold in your stupid little giggles and they slip through as you reciprocate, “Me too. See you soon, baby.”

Every minute that passed after the call ended felt infinite to Matty. It was like the seconds elongated cruelly and he couldn’t stop fidgeting around his house whilst he waited for the clock to strike a time that was logical for him to set off to get you and Amelia. 

It got even worse when he got there and he waited outside with a cigarette between his lips, hoping that every drag would soothe him while he eagerly waited for you to walk out. Hoodie up to hide his curls and sunglasses on the bridge of his nose to not garner any attention. Thank god it worked because everyone seemed to pass by completely ignoring him and he could peacefully settle where he was standing for a bit. The relief Matty felt when he watched your plane land on the tracker though was like nothing else, it would only be a short while before he got to be with you again. 

The feeling that washes over you when you walk out of the arrivals doors and Matty sees you is indescribable. The smirk he offers you makes the feeling increase tenfold inside you and fills you with warmth when he walks closer to you and Amelia and you hear him greet you with a cheeky, “Hello you.” over the noise of your cases rolling on the pavement beside you.

“Hiya baby.” You greet back with a loopy smile on your face, you feel your face heat up and the tips of your fingers tingle with the need to trap him in a tight hug.

“Dimz.” Matty says to your best friend who’s smiling beside you, a tilt of his chin in acknowledgement.

“Hello Matthew.” Amelia replies and she comically and dramatically runs to hug your boyfriend before you can.

You watch her case roll away slightly as she lets go of it and you hear the soft ‘oof’ Matty lets out when Amelia crashes on his chest but he still wraps his arms around her shoulders and sweetly clutches her to him. He keeps his eyes open and his smirk is still stuck on his face as he embraces your best friend so you slowly finish walking up to them and say, “Alright then, I see how it is.”

A giggle escapes you when he reaches one of his arms out and grabs your wrist to pull you in and includes you in the hug with a breathy “Get in here.” that he says in between a chuckle. You find yourself letting go of your case too and wrapping your arms around the two people in front of you.

Being so close to him, you can smell his scent again and you’ve never been more relieved to be drowning in the smell of cigarettes mixed with a hint of weed and his aftershave. It lights up your face, your grin only getting bigger when you’re met with his face merely inches away from yours, “Hi.” 

“Hi.” Matty says back and he leans over Amelia’s shoulder to close the distance and trap your lips in a quick kiss. 

You only get to relish in the feeling of his lips on yours again for a split second because when you lean back and your lips separate with a soft smack, Amelia is pushing herself away from you both and dramatically gagging. 

She scowls jokingly at you two, and acts like she’s fed up with the PDA, “You’re sickly cute, it’s annoying.” You know she’s joking and it makes you snort in laughter, Matty only smirks harder beside you as he snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you in close to his side.

Welcoming the feeling of his body melting against yours, you let your head fall on his shoulder and pucker your lips to drop a chaste kiss on his jaw just before he says, “Lucky I’m dropping you off at home Dimz, because it’s only gonna get worse.”

Amelia sighs but she sees on your face how hard you’re trying not to actually throw yourself on your boyfriend, so she calls Matty out to taunt you, “Hug your girlfriend properly, she’s missed you.”

Matty coos and, pressing his lips to your forehead, his lips brush against your skin when he asks, “You missed me baby?”

You feel your face heat up thanks to Amelia so easily exposing you but you know you can’t play it cool and try to hide it from your boyfriend so you pathetically mumble, “Always.” in response.

Just hearing the subtle despair seeping through your voice makes him quickly turn on his heels to properly crush you in a hug that you two so desperately had been needing. Your arms wrap around his neck and his go around your waist, fingers digging into your flesh as if he was preventing anyone coming and snatching you away from him. 

It’s clear what it is and you feel it just the same, your fingers coming up the back of his neck and you feel the goosebumps rising on his skin before your fingers get lost in his curls and you hum in bliss when having that feeling back. Barely a few days had gone by since you last saw him but god did you miss him. Your nose brushes the stubble growing on his face, and you feel his lips brushing the skin of your neck almost teasingly before he leaves a trail of pecks up your neck until he reaches your ear. You inhale deeply at the tingles that rush down your spine, thinking about how you don’t want to be anywhere else but here. In his arms. For as long as you can.

“Did you sleep on the plane?” He whispers in your ear and you have no idea if you want to laugh or cry at the fact that he knows just what to ask.

Sheepishly, you shake your head and mumble, “Nope…” 

And with that answer, Matty slowly pulls back to look at you and, as if it is the only important thing in the world, he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear and says, “God, let’s get you home to bed.”

~*~*~*~

Dropping your best friend off was quick and easy, and it left you and Matty to enjoy the rest of the trip back to yours. He left your heart warm even in the quiet moments when he did nothing but hum along to the tunes the radio was playing and rest his warm hand on your thigh. It’s silly how such small details could make you so happy but by god you really are.

The second your flat's door is unlocked, you come in followed by Matty and you all but run to your room. Dropping your stuff by the threshold of your room, you go straight to the bathroom and take a much needed shower. It feels so nice being back home and feeling the warm water rain down on you in the comfort of your own space is so soothing.  

When you come out, you find your boyfriend already waiting for you to get in bed so you quickly change into an oversized top (which is definitely Matty’s) and a pair of joggers (which you also stole from him), and blow dry your hair in a hurry to finally throw yourself in bed with him five minutes later. 

The moan of pleasure you let out at the comfort of your own mattress and being wrapped in your boyfriend's arms makes Matty chuckle. 

“This is heavenly.” You mumble against his chest, which is bare since he shed himself of it as well as his hoodie, and he clutches you even tighter to him.

“I know.” Matty agrees, letting his head rest atop of yours and he leaves a kiss there before whispering, “Finally.”

The breath of relief he lets out matches yours, and you let your eyes flutter close as a smile breaks out on your face. It just feels so right and you feel the way you just melt into the bed and his hold. The heat he exudes so familiar and just what you’d been craving all along. 

You’ve got no grasp on time or reality when you peel your eyes open again. The only thing you know is that you had squirmed in your place and subconsciously wanted to nuzzle into your boyfriend’s neck only to find your cheek squished against your pillow and the other half of the bed empty. 

Blinking your eyes repeatedly, it takes you about half a minute to come to your senses and sit up to look around your room. It’s when you’re squinting to see if his hoodie is still on the floor where he dropped it earlier that you hear a sound coming from your kitchen and you spring up quickly to head over there. Of course, not before snatching his hoodie from the floor and putting it on you, letting the fabric swallow you comfortably. 

Your bare feet softly and quietly pad through the hallway until you get to the kitchen and there you find him, with his shirt back on (unfortunately) and his back to you as he stirs something in a pot. The smell of cooked chicken fills the room and when you walk up to him and snake your arms around his waist from behind, you can see he’s made chicken alfredo. 

He tenses up for a second before he relaxes again and it makes you giggle before you compliment, “Oooo… Looks delicious, baby.” It also smells delicious and you’re bathed in this warm feeling that makes you wanna kiss him all over, so you leave a trail of kisses from his shoulder going up his neck until you go on your tiptoes to smack the last one on his cheek. “Thank you.”

Matty hums in response, that smile of his tugging at the corners of his mouth and it makes you smile just as big. He lets his head tilt to the side so it knocks into yours and he can’t help but feel all gooey inside when you hug him that bit tighter.

He turns off the hob and allows himself to glance at you as you walk over to the fridge. When you open it, you let out a soft gasp seeing it far different from how you left it back at the start of the year when he convinced you to join him on tour. It’s full, you giggle like an idiot when you see the cans of Tango lined up on one of the shelves and in the freezer you can see he’s gotten you a few tubs of your favourite ice cream.

“Thought I’d go to the shops for you whilst you rested.” Matty comments sweetly and a bit shyly. 

In an instant, you’re almost leaping towards him and crushing him in a hug. A hug that lasts a mere few seconds because you pull back and cup his face with your hands to trap him in a dizzying kiss that he welcomes gracefully. His hands coming to cup your arse and squeezing it makes you laugh so you break the kiss, and he takes advantage of the way you throw your head back in laughter to drop a bunch of kisses up your exposed throat. 

One last peck is left on your lips before your boyfriend pats your arse and instructs, “Take a seat for me, baby. Food is ready.”

The grin on your face grows even more and the apples of your cheeks start to hurt when you occupy one of the chairs in your kitchen. You watch attentively as he walks around the place so smoothly. He gets a pair of plates and then walks over to the fridge to get you a can of Tango, cracking it open before setting it in front of you and he doesn’t pass the opportunity of getting another kiss from you after you thank him for the drink.

His tongue sticks out slightly as he plates his creation and you bite your bottom lip as to not giggle when you see him puff his chest out at the sight of what he’s made for you. Matty gets cutlery for the both of you and brings the two plates over to the table. 

“Thank you baby.” You say sweetly when he places the plate in front of you, carefully getting the fork and knife from him and you wait until he settles on his own seat before digging in. 

Your eyes roll back and you let out a moan at the taste of the first forkful of pasta you get, and the pride in his face makes him look absolutely stunning. With a hand over your mouth, you swallow and let him know just how delicious it is, “This is so fucking good.”

Matty hums proudly and he digs in himself. He feels your gaze on him, waiting for him to agree on how good he’s done and when he swallows the bite he’s taken, he matches your smile, “I did pretty fucking good, didn’t I?”

The laugh that elicits from you is music to your boyfriend’s ears and he’s beaming at you as you say, “You really did.”

After that, you fall into conversation and, despite being at yours and the setting being so mundane, you find yourself thinking about how much this feels like a date and you fucking love it. 

You love being like this with him and finding the different aspects of him, and getting a taste of the sweet things he does for you makes your heart swell in your chest. Especially when he tells you just what he got you from the shops and you want to throw yourself at him and kiss every inch of his face when he tells you that you’d yet to see he’d gotten your favourite snacks. 

Time continues to pass as you talk about everything and nothing, gossiping and laughing and just enjoying each other’s company. The more the clock ticks, the more you find yourself thinking about how you could get used to having this forever. And it’s not as terrifying as it might’ve been before, now it’s exciting and it’s almost like you’re impatient for the rest that’s to come. 

It's warm and tender talking to him, and the both of you seem to not be able to stray too far from physical contact either because your legs are hooked around each other underneath the table and you're holding each other's hand across the table. At one point you can’t not take a picture of his hand beside his drink that he was clearly finished with because he put his fag dimp in it. You can’t really believe that the man with dad tattooed on his wrist is actually your boyfriend now, it still shocks you when you think about how long you’ve admired this man from afar and now he’s all yours. 

When you’re done eating, Matty suggests going out for a walk, thinking you might want some fresh air and maybe let out some of the energy you might now have after the rest you got. But it’s cold outside and, despite him mentioning that he has a spliff to share, you don’t wanna leave this bubble that you’re in with him. So you shrug it off and instead mention how you don’t mind smoking weed inside and it becomes a plan then, going back to your room and getting high together in bed. 

Considering he’s cooked for you and done your shopping, you offer to take care of the dishes and he reluctantly lets you while he cleans the table and gets you two the snacks you want to take with you. Once you do your bit and put everything in the dishwasher, you and Matty head back into your room. You’re both just feeling overly affectionate and cuddly with each other so it’s no surprise when you end up in each other's arms again. This time though, you don’t end up falling asleep, no instead you end up chatting each other's ears off. 

At some point, you’re not really sure how long passed before you got up and took the both of you a drink. But when you come back, instead of lying down beside him again, you lie across your bed and rest your head at the bottom of his stomach. 

“Tell me something I don’t know about you yet?” His words are just as delicate as his touch, his right hand, with which he’d just lit the spliff alive a minute ago, threaded through your hair and softly brushed it back and over his stomach. 

You let the drag you’d taken relax you even further by letting your eyes flutter close but you still enthusiastically try to get more of what he’s saying, “Oooo… like what?”

His sharp inhale reaches your ears and you smell the smoke lingering in the air as he throws a bunch of questions out, “Anything? What was your first pet called? Your first job? What crazy stuff did you and Amelia get up to in high school?” 

Pinning each question inside your mind, you open your eyes and reach up your hand for the joint, bringing it to your lips leisurely and taking a slow drag. You let it swirl inside your mouth and down the back of your throat for a few seconds before exhaling the smoke upwards, a blanket of bliss brought by the weed enveloping you nicely and it makes you smile as you answer, “First pets were goldfish I proudly won at a fair when I was little and I called them both Tom and Jerry.”

A short, but amused, “Nice.” is what you get from Matty and it makes you giggle, you pass him the spliff back and let your hands clasp together over your stomach.

You still show your pride at the chosen names for your (now very dead) goldfish, being smug when adding, “I know right. I loved that programme as a kid.” 

Matty hums in agreement, “It was a gooden.”

And then you remember the rest of the questions so you continue answering with ease, “My first job was in a cafe. Worked way too young.” He feels you shake your head on his stomach, your hair tickling his skin that’s showing as his shirt ridden up. “I worked cash in hand at fifteen so not even allowed to legally work. I stayed there for a while until I was eighteen then I went and worked in a bar but I hated it and I quit after three weeks by handing my boss a post it note that read ‘I quit’ with a little smiley face on it.”

A soft gasp comes from your boyfriend and it makes your smirk bigger, “No you didn’t…”

“I did.” You assure, proudly. You’d never been prouder of yourself than back then, and it had been so relieving to gain the courage and finally make that decision because that job made you absolutely miserable.

Matty chortles at the joy on your face when recounting the story but he’s still curious, “You’re so funny, what did your boss say? What did they do?” 

You shrug nonchalantly, much different to how you felt back then, and answered his questions, “They knew I hated it but they were very kind to me and took it and let me leave without giving notice.”

“That’s nice of them.” He points out, elated for your past self having had an easy time with that situation.

With a nod, you agree, “Yeah they were really nice.” You watch as he takes another drag of the joint, and after flicking the ashes on the ashtray he had placed on your bedside table, he hands it to you just as you’re trying to think of the answer to his last question.

“As far as crazy shit me and Ames got up to, it wasn’t interesting.” There’s no insanely crazy and out of hand story that comes to your mind, and you have to remain in silence and think about it really hard to remember something slightly crazy in your boyfriend’s standards. Inhaling a bit of smoke clears your memories up and you smile thinking about a memory that was now incredibly funny to you, “There was a house party once that ended up with flashing blue lights and everyone had to run home before we got caught underaged drinking.”

Curiosity shines on his face, he perks up atop of your pillows and rushes you to continue with an eager, “Do tell.”

You chuckle at his impatience and get right into your story, “We were at our friends house, I’d say we were fifteen, maybe sixteen, and it was a really good party, I think it was just for the girl’s birthday or whatever but that doesn’t really matter. It ended in disaster though when one of the girls who clearly couldn’t handle her alcohol tripped and went head first through the glass sliding doors.”

His loud gasp and the quick, “No.” that he let out in response makes you laugh even harder, squirming on his stomach and making him smile at the way your hair tickles his sides.

With a nod and taunting wide eyes, you continue after taking another drag before handing the spliff back to him, “Yes, and it was all Amelia's fault. Because this lightweight had spotted Ames having her first kiss outside and she ran to tell us and as she was running back to the back door she tripped and went straight through it. Turns out Amelia and this lad obviously closed the door so they could have some privacy but that turned into a scene from Casualty and I had to deal with a fuming best friend because she had her first kiss ruined and we all had to run home.”

“How selfish of the girl to purposely ruinthat for her.” Matty chuckles sarcastically, your head rising and falling a little as he laughs picturing your best friend being selfishly fuming.

You play along, holding your giggle but Matty can see and hear just how big your smile is, “I know right.”

“What were you doing as she was kissing her man?” Your boyfriend asks curiously, spliff held right by his parted lips but not closing around the filter just yet because his inquiries were more important to let out than taking a puff, “Who were you kissing?”

“Oh no I was inside talking to our friend’s Mum eating pizza.” You snort out in laughter faintly remembering that happening, but despite the weed making everything feel light and feathery, your amusement is still brief and the corners of your lips fall to turn your smile into a flat line, “I didn’t have my first kiss until I was nineteen.”

“Nineteen?” Matty’s eyes go a little wide in surprise, “Really?” He’s just a little confused because you’re so beautiful, and Amelia has shown him pictures of you when you were younger and you were just as pretty back then. How no one would have snapped you up he really doesn’t understand. Anyone would be lucky to be with you. 

“Yep,” You sigh, thinking back to it, “Perks of spending most of my teens struggling to figure out if I really liked boys and girls, and worrying that if I was ever caught kissing a girl someone would tell on me and I’d have to come out before I even truly figured it out myself.”

He has to take a few seconds to process what you’ve just said and his heart squeezes in his chest when thinking about you feeling trapped in such a dilemma when being your true self should’ve been always the obvious choice. He gets it though, it’s all easier said than done so he nods with a soft smile on his face as he looks down at you, “Completely fair enough baby.”

It wasn’t your intention to make things serious all of the sudden, though you know it is a piece of information that your boyfriend should know to know you even better, but you find yourself coming back around to what had come up before your bisexual trauma piece and you smirk as you carefully pick your words to get his curiosity rising once more, “Funny story, my first kiss was your fault.”

He frowns a little, “My fault?”

“Yep, it happened at your show.” You explain and chuckle seeing Matty looks absolutely dumbfounded. He makes you chuckle as you continue, “Yeah so there was a cute guy as I was in the pit for your show and we were chatting and flirting a little as we were waiting for you to come on.”

You make sure to turn your head to the side to look him straight in the eye when you get to the interesting part, wanting to perfectly see his reaction to the story, “Then you came out and everything was fine, I was loving it. And I think it was before you performed Sex you said ‘if you wanna get off with someone whilst you're here, this is your moment’ and once you’d started we sorta looked at each other all coyly before he kissed me. Was amazing, so yeah thank you for that.”

There’s a long few beats of silence that go by and you're left holding your breath and pressing your lips together not to burst out laughing. The only noise you hear is the burning of the spliff as he takes a long drag, his cheeks hollowing and a frown on his face when he holds the smoke in the back of his throat for a few seconds before exhaling. He then breaks the silence by letting out a mumbled, “I have no words.” that let his disbelief shine through pretty obviously.

“Shut up.” You say in between giggles, you shake from the laughter over him and your cheek is left pressed over his We Are Kings tattoo, which is peeking from the bottom of his shirt, the hair that adorns his lower stomach tickling your skin.

It’s almost like your boyfriend can’t stop himself when he quickly follows up with an important question, “Did you get with him?”

To his relief, you shake your head and shrug nonchalantly, clearly showing how little you actually cared about it other than the experience having been fun and very on brand for you. “Nope, never saw him again after that night. Never even caught his name.”

Almost like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, Matty sighs, but he still frowns as he admits the burning feeling scorching his insides and leaving a slight bitter taste in his mouth, “I feel like I shouldn’t be jealous, but I am?”

You can’t take him seriously though, so you cackle loudly, letting your head turn back so you lie there facing up to the ceiling. Only once you managed to control your laughter, you poke him on his side and call out a mocking, “Oh shut up.” before plucking the joint from his fingers and bringing it to your lips. 

The next few minutes are spent leisurely smoking after having fallen in a comfortable silence. The smoke lingering in the air over you like a warm fog that only had you two sinking further into the mattress, the warmth that your skin touching exudes is heightened under the influence of the weed, and the feeling of his fingers carefully brushing through your hair makes you hum in utter bliss. 

Like a film reel, you watch the day back and when you come back around to the stories you’ve just shared with him, your eyes go wide as your curiosity shocks you back to life like a bolt of electricity.

“What about you? What was your craziest house party? Did Denise ever tell you off for any?” The words come from your mouth in a hurry, stumbling behind the other and he flinches at the way you quickly shift in your place, startling him as he had his eyes closed and was relishing in the quiet that had drowned the room.

Matty blinks a few times before managing to realise what you’ve just asked, and he clears his throat before he can mindlessly say, “She was okay when it came to parties to be honest-” He cut himself off when a memory came rushing to the forefront of his mind and his eyes go wide when remembering what had happened, “Oh my god…” He mutters first and then he’s carefully recounting, “There was a time I got caught when she went on holiday.”

You’re definitely intrigued by his reaction, but you expect a wild story if it comes from Matty. You knew how much of a little shit he had been in his teenage years from interviews and stories you’d heard so far but getting to hear a new story excited you almost childishly, “Oh yeah?”

What you weren’t expecting was for him to follow up with, “Yeah, but I got caught two years after it happened.”

Matty sees your mouth open agape at the detail, your brain a mush trying to sort out the chances of that happening but you can’t so you quickly ask, “What? How?”

“It’s the stupidest story. Doesn’t even sound real but I swear it is.” He says as a preface and you become more intrigued by the second.

A loopy smile shows on his face, his eyes crinkling at the edges and his voice sounds amused like he’s holding back a laugh as he narrates, “I threw a party when I was seventeen when my Mum and Dad had gone away on holiday and they had this jeep they would never let me drive because I didn’t have a licence. So this party I decided, you know what imma drive this fucker while they can’t stop me.”

You can’t help but cackle at the way he talks about his defiance, it’s contagious as he chuckles along with you before he continues, “There were a few of us at this party right, they were all cheering me on except for Hann.” 

You almost want to coo at the mention of Adam being the only one to properly use his brain, “Of course, because he’s sensible.”

But your boyfriend scoffs loudly and refutes your point, “He was a fucking bore and a cock block.”

Another loud cackle slips past your lips, a smile appearing on his face despite his efforts to appear serious about the matter. He has to press his lips together not to giggle at the mischievous smirk that shows on your face before you say, “Matty, you shagged his cousin. He can't be that good at cockblocking.” 

Matty snorts at that, knowing Adam’s blessing meant nothing to him at one point in time when he was horrendously head over heels for his cousin. Matty just laughs, “Flo just couldn’t resist in the end, okay?” 

“Yeah,” You roll your eyes, knowing exactly what happened between him and Flo and that was certainly not the case. Sarcasm and disbelief is thick in your voice when you add, “I’m sure.” 

“Hey!” Matty frowns down at you, offended that you don’t think he’s irresistible. 

“I’m kidding,” You chuckle, taking the blunt off him and taking a puff before you prompt him to, “Carry on.”

“Right so, Adam was the only one to be like ‘no, don’t do it’ but of course I went and did it anyway.” Matty explains twirling a strand of your hair around his fingers, “Me, George, Ross and our mate Pete in the Jeep. Hann stayed at the house because he was a boring prick.”

You scoff at that, shaking your head as you declare under your breath, “So nasty.” 

Electing to ignore that comment, your boyfriend continues, “And we drove to the field just across from mine, opened the gate and started leathering it around this field doing skids and stuff. Then we got to the gate for the next field across and George got out and opened it for us and we went about in there too. But then we realised our mistake.”

For some reason you find yourself smiling in anticipation at that comment since you know it means that’s when the trouble started, and you look at him as you take another drag as he carries on to tell you the full story.

“There were horses in that field, so after we realised we headed back to the first field but George didn’t get back out and shut the gate and we spooked them too, so after we’d done more skids and turned back to close the gate, the horses had come into that field.”

As you laugh, the smoke comes out of your mouth too, making Matty watch you as you declare, “You idiots.” 

“No, what made us idiots was thinking we could on our feet herd up the horses getting them back into the other field.” The beginning of an embarrassed smile makes its way onto his lips now. He almost doesn't want to tell you, but he knows it’ll be worth it when he hears you laugh again if he does. 

Matty takes your offer of having the blunt back and he explains before he has another puff, “We did that for about half an hour and it was raining at that point and we were getting muddy. We went back to the car defeated but then because of the skids and the rain the Jeep got stuck in the mud and we were stuck.”

You can’t help the gasp that leaves you, “Nooo, what did you do?”

“We had to walk back over to the house and had to get Hann to help us.” Matty sighs remembering just how much shit Adam gave him that day, how he told him multiple times it would be a bad idea and he wouldn’t let him forget he was right.  

“Long story short, Hann made me call the farmer the next day and he towed it out. Then Hann, being the only one old enough to drive, had to take it to the car wash for us and we had it deep cleaned and he drove it back to its spot on the drive. And thankfully when Mum and Dad came back they never noticed.”

You laugh practically being able to hear in your head the way Adam had told him off for his silly activities. After being on tour with them and getting such a better insight to their whole dynamic you just know Adam wouldn’t have let Matty get away with random shit he pulled as a teenager, and that’s hilarious to you, the thought of Matty being scared of cute little Adam Hann. 

Matty can’t help but smile at the way you're giggling. God he actually loves you so much he thinks his heart just beats for you, his heart racing getting faster at the sight of you all happy and hearing your loud laugh. 

Your giggles die down but you can’t keep the smile from your face. You’re too happy right now, everything about this evening has been the best and you’ve loved this story so much. Hearing even the tiniest thing about his past makes you so happy, like you’ve got to know him even better and on a deeper level. It warms your heart massively. 

“Wait,” You pause for a second, remembering how the conversation started out, “You said she caught you two years after it happened? How? Did the farmer tell your Mum and Dad?” 

“No, it's worse.” Matty signs, not believing he’s about to admit, “A fucking areal photographer knocked on our door two years later and showed Mum the pictures he took years ago and the fucking Jeep was in the middle of the field with horses around it. I got bollocked. Me and Flo were upstairs in my room and we just heard a booming ‘Matthew!’ from downstairs.”

You let out a little giggle, unable to help yourself, and it warms Matty’s heart as he plays with your hair. You have to ask him, “Did you shit yourself?”

“Big time.” Matty smiles, “No clue what it was about until I saw the pictures and then I just had to accept my fate.”

“I bet Flo was pissing herself.” You look at him as you say that and you already know the answer from the look on his face. 

“She was. She bullied me relentlessly after it happened, especially since we never told her about that one.” He tells you as he stubs out the last of the blunt and waits for the drug to take full effect. 

You hum, “She wasn’t at the party?”

“No, she only came over from Sheffield in the summer and it was maybe like March when we did that.” Matty tells you, “She wouldn’t have condoned it anyway she’d have stopped us like her cousin tried to do.”

You accidentally cackle once more, entirely amused at the fact that he got caught the way he did. It’s so fucking funny to you, your uncontrollable laughter starts again, “I can’t believe you got caught two years later.”

Matty can’t help but join your giggles, “Me neither.”

A sigh comes from you when you manage to calm back down, and then you’re calling him out further, “And you all thinking you were cowboys and could get the horses back.”

He scoffs, offended, before he’s correcting you, “Hey, I look good in cowboy gear.” 

You make a hesitant noise, letting the seconds drag and making a show of acting like you’re really weighing his words. His mouth hangs open as he watches you and you have to bite your tongue not to laugh again before you conclude, “Now, maybe.”

Both of you end up quietly giggling, but then Matty tries to tickle you and you plead for him to stop, absolutely hating being tickled. Before you’ve let it slide but this time you fight back, managing to get enough distance between you so you can try and pin him down but as you know you’re going to fail you end up just leaning down to gently bite his bicep. 

With that, Matty stops in a little bit of shock. You look up at him, trying not to smile but failing miserably. Your boyfriend is struggling to keep his smile away as he asks, “Did you just bite me?” 

You completely fail not to grin, it being too funny to not, and you just shrug, “Maybe.” before letting him go and falling to the mattress just beside him. 

You turn on your side so you’re facing him and your boyfriend mirrors you, both of your heads sharing a pillow and you’re hopelessly grinning at each other. 

“Hey.” You start by saying, stupidly really, just as much as the grin on your face while you take in every little detail on his pretty face.

“Hi.” Matty says back, flashing you that crooked smile you adore so much.

Your heart swells in your chest as you grow nervous at what you’re about to ask, “I have a question for you.”

He nods and then prompts you to, “Go on.”

It’s stupid how you have to take a deep breath before you can ask him, “Will you be my date to our Valentine’s party?” 

Matty is your boyfriend and you don't need to be worried about him turning you down but you still grow even more nervous when he frowns in confusion and says, “Valentine's party?”

“Yeah we’ve done one for the last few years but this year it’s all about Amelia because I’m not single anymore.” You explain easily, wanting to hide your face behind your hands by the end though, because his smile turned into a smirk that made your cheeks heat up.

His hand reaches out for yours, intertwining your fingers and bringing your joint hands up to his mouth. He drops a peck on the back of your hand and his lips brush against your skin when he replies, “I would love to come, when is it?”

“The evening of the ninth?” Your answer sounds more like a question since you know he’s due to go to New York tomorrow, unsure of when exactly he’s coming back.

But to your relief, he clears it up for you, “I get home early on the ninth so yes, I’d love to come. I could come straight here so I could get ready with you?”

“Sounds perfect.” You state with a loopy smile coming back to your face now that you’ve got that sorted out. 

Matty can see you getting lost in your thoughts and he would let you so he can admire every bit of you as you do, but he has an inquiry of his own so he drops a few kisses on the back of your hand to catch your attention and when he sees your eyes widening slightly and focus back on him, he starts, “I have a question for you now.”

“Go on.” You say with a cheeky smile, copying his same words.

“Will you come to the Brits with me?” Your boyfriend asks, breathy words like he’s doing it just as a joke. 

He was so sure you’d say yes so it’s a complete and utter shock when you mutter a quick, “No.”

His brows shoot up and his eyes widen, he actually retracts and there’s a distance between you to accentuate his shock at your reply. His words come out filled with despair and confusion, “No? Why not?”

You want to laugh but manage to hold it back as you explain, “Because I’m already attending and interviewing.” 

Once you clear that up, relief washes over him and you feel him go from tense to letting his shoulders relax and melt back down on the mattress. It’s like a flip has been switched, his eyes grow a little dark and mischief is written all over his face, “Are you now?”

“Don’t get excited, you will be getting ignored.” Is your warning to him since you can almost see inside his mind and know that he’s planning to pull a number on you on that red carpet.

His answer is a simple, “No.” that you have to fight against yourself not to giggle about. 

You clear your throat, willing your amusement away before getting serious again and chatting back, “Yes. You’ll be treated like any other regular attendee.”

His exaggerated offended face is back on, jaw dropped and a frown to accentuate the way he says, “You could never. I’m your boyfriend.”

It’s your time to play with him, so you smirk and challenge with a cheeky, “Watch me.”

At this point, Matty knows you don’t play about when it comes to your job so he sighs, dropping his facade to actually find a way to work out how to have you with him that award night. “Well can you at the very least sit with me? Be my date at the table?”

You want to agree to at least that, but you have to ask, “What about Ames?” because you’re not leaving your best friend to fend for herself. 

“Dimz is more than welcome to join.” Matty smiles, not thinking for a second that Amelia wouldn’t be joining you, “There'll be plenty of room.”

Your smile is huge knowing you’re going to accept his offer, but you hum for a few seconds as if you’re weighing your options. But of course you end up accepting, “Okay then.”

Matty chuckles at your fake deliberation, and he leans in to quickly kiss you sweetly. After he does, he stays close and mumbles against your lips, his grin still huge, “Can’t wait for you to interview me again and for your facade to fail.”

“I will not break.” You pull back just enough so he can tell you’re serious when you demand, “You’re not allowed to flirt with me. I’m only allowed to awkwardly flirt with you.”

It’s Matty’s turn now to hum as if he’s thinking about it, but then leaving you with a rather threatening, “We shall see.”

“Matthew.” You raise your eyebrows, warning him.

But he just comes back with a playful, “Y/N.” that matches your demanding tone.

Leaving you no time to argue, Matty leans the short distance forward and attaches his lips to your own again. 

It’s slow and delicate, soft inhales coming from the both of you as your lips move in sync like you’ve got all the time in the world. The weed has lulled your senses and you find yourselves giggling in between kisses, lips smacking and smiling against each other’s mouth before going back in. 

His hand, which had been resting on your waist, easily trails a steady path up your body as his mouth continues moving against yours. The warm touch leaves goosebumps in its wake until he cups your jaw, wanting to keep you in place whilst he props himself up on his elbow and starts lifting himself up to hover over you. 

Once he’s on top of you, the curls you adore so much brush against your forehead once and your hands quickly move to the back of his neck and up into the locks so you can dig your fingers in and pull them however you please. 

Your fingers buzz with this energy like just brushing his skin erupts a sizzling electricity in between you two that has you feeling elated. He moans when you pull harder on his hair and your mouth parts wider to let out a whimper that he swallows. He tastes like the smoke you just shared, and it’s so inherently him it just makes you even dizzier. 

You love it so much, you start mumbling your sweet thoughts against his mouth. It’s a struggle to understand but it’s an even bigger struggle to stop kissing, the desperate urge to say what you’re thinking makes you pull harder so you can break the kiss. He groans at the sting of it but his heart soars in his chest when you let out a breathy, “Obsessed with you.” 

Matty barely manages to reciprocate with a rushed, “Me too.” before he dives back onto your mouth. It’s desperate when your lips crash together again but he melts into the same deliberate pace he’d set before when your tongues meet. 

At this very moment, you’re entirely his. Every single one of your senses are completely captivated by Matty, your sight, smell, hearing and taste bleeds into one and it’s all him. The man you adore so much, who makes you feel like you’re the most important person in the world and feel like you’re being worshipped. 

Everything about him consumes you, and you’re almost too busy realising how lucky you are to notice that his knee has come to rest between your legs until you roll your hips and the sudden friction against your clit makes you gasp. Pleasure overtakes you and your hips start grinding against him without you really thinking about it, the feeling so good that you’re whimpering and moaning into the kiss. Matty groans, feeling himself getting hard just from the sweet sounds you’re making and the way your pace picks up as you try to get off on his thigh.

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath, looking down and catching the erratic movements of your hips. His mouth dips down to your neck, starting to kiss and suck on your sensitive skin, only making your mouth hang open even wider and your throat drying as you continuously gasp.

Your hands fall down his neck and onto his shoulders, wanting to pull him closer to you, but when you dig your nails onto them and you feel the fabric of his shirt covering it, you’re whining out your instructions, “Take your clothes off.”

He chuckles, playfully digging his teeth on the side of your neck before lifting his head up to chat back, “You’ve got too many clothes on.” You’re the one wearing a hoodie over your shirt after all, so you win him over by a piece of clothing.

“Take them off me then.” You challenge him and the look on your face is enough to have him smirking. 

Your pupils are blown out in lust, chest heaving as you try to regain composure but he still takes the chance to taunt you by simply calling you, “Lazy.”

“I’m sleepy.” Is what you counter with, partially true since the spliff has made you sleepy but it’s mostly his presence and touch which has you dizzy and loopy out of your mind. Matty has you dazed and you’ve got no problem giving yourself up to his mercy at the moment, you just want him in any way he’d allow.

But of course, when Matty hears this he has to stop, his expression softening when your words reach his ears, his lips falling in a sweet pout of understanding, “Are you? Should we just go to sleep then, baby?”

A stern, “No.” quickly leaves your lips, and you add a shake of your head just in case. 

He’s still wary, his hand coming up to softly brush the skin of your cheek, “You sure?”

There is no doubt in your mind and you nod gently, a dopey smile on your lips as you tell him, “I want you.”

The smirk that pulls at the corners of his mouth makes you wanna roll your eyes and groan in pleasure, he looks so fucking good above you with unruly curls falling around his face like a halo, his eyes darkened by need and his lips pink, swollen and wet from all the kisses you’ve shared.

Mischievously, he dips down until your noses brush and his lips move tauntingly against yours in a ghostly but deadly touch when he asks, “Do you now?”

It’s easy to say, “I always do.” in admission when you’re wet and throbbing for him already. 

“Simp.” He quips, pushing himself up the bed so he can kneel on the mattress as he takes his top off. He comes back down with a smirk growing on his face, and when he’s merely an inch away from your face, he lets out a chuckle that hits your parted mouth.

Raising a brow, you take the chance to tease him back, playfully correcting his word choice, “Horny, more like.” Emphasising it by letting your eyes shamelessly go down his naked chest and taking in every inch of his skin, the sight just makes your mouth water and your brain fill with the most sinful thoughts so you catch your bottom lip between your teeth to muffle a moan.

With a shake of his head, your boyfriend resumes his attack on your lips, both of you giggling as he does. Soon the giggles die though when his fingers become more intent with their hold on your jaw, making you moan in response but when you go to continue relishing on that delicious friction you’ve created by rolling your hips on his thigh, you find he’s purposely moved his leg away. 

You whimper at the loss, almost like the start of a tantrum and he knows exactly why that is. The smirk that breaks on his face makes it impossible to continue kissing, yet you’re still desperately leaving wet kisses on his lips, before guiding them down his jaw and neck.

Your focus has been entirely taken by wanting to mark him up, to hear those addictive moans of his, to feel him shudder when you get to that sweet spot at the bottom of his throat; but you’re completely distracted from your task when his hand snakes down your body, into your joggers and he feels how wet he’s already made you. 

Mewling against his lips as he starts drawing circles on your clit through your soaked underwear, your small begs are thankfully heard. Your boyfriend moves the material that's separating him from you to the side and teases your clit again. 

You choke on your breath, the pleasure feeling more intense with your muscles relaxed and mind numbed from the weed combined with you not having been with him in a week. It’s all a little much, yet you need more.  

And you’re glad you’ve reached the point where you don’t even have to ask for what you want, he already knows. It’s sweet relief when after a minute Matty drops his hand and sinks two fingers inside you, euphoria taking over, the stretch so sweet you roll your hips trying to get more.

A loud moan gets stuck in your throat, your head thrown back and your mouth agape, your eyes rolling back into your head and your back arching when he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that spot perfectly, “F-fuckkk, Matty.”

“Right there baby?” He asks breathlessly, his own mouth opening agape just watching as you begin to crumble beneath him.

You hum, your eyes shutting tight and biting your lip as he starts picking up the pace. Your voice all pleasure stricken and raspy, “Oh fuck- Yes. Feels so good, baby.” 

Your arm wraps around his neck, nails digging in the flesh of his shoulder to keep him right there, not that he was going to move when he had you becoming a mess for him like that.

Matty leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, wishing he had taken off your hoodie to bite and suck and lick your tits, he could see your chest heaving and sweat coating your forehead, hair sticking to it as you gasp in pleasure.

“So fucking pretty, sound so sweet for me baby.” He mumbles in your ear, his hot breath making you shiver and clench around his skilled fingers. His voice still low as he praises,  “You like that? My sweet, gorgeous girl.”

There’s no shame in you that could have you denying that, you nod and it’s almost missable if it wasn’t for your soft hum of confirmation. Matty smiles, kissing you sweetly again as he presses the heel of his palm against your clit, sparking the pleasure that runs up your spine.

You’re drenching his hand already, the coil in your lower stomach tightening with each stroke of his calloused fingers. It’s not long that you've been together, but he already knows you so well, easily having you falling apart for him in just a few minutes. 

Stretching you out further, he adds a third finger and this time, your loud cries of pleasure come out of you with ease. It makes kissing him impossible, when so overcome with the euphoria running through your body, making you buzz with ecstasy, all you can do is whine for him.

Matty’s hot breath mixes with yours, your parted mouths right next to each other, your half lidded eyes trying to stay open so you can hold his gaze as you grow closer to your orgasm. A buildup that only gets more intense when he starts rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb as he continues pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt. 

“Baby you’re so wet for me. Makes me wanna taste you.” He whines, sharing his lustful thoughts with you, his lips pressing kisses at the edge of your parted mouth. You whimper in response, almost drooling in pleasure at the thought of that tongue of his dipping into your cunt and flicking your clit until you cum all over his face. “Gonna make you cum on my fingers first though. You’re so fucking good to me, you deserve to cum on them, no?”

“Yes.” You pant out desperately, licking your lips and nodding your head to agree with him. Tugging on his curls harder, you quietly plead, “Please baby. Feels so good.”

He hums and smiles to himself, his hips grinding softly against your thigh in an attempt to relieve himself as you’ve made him so hard. He finds his search for relief through you though, needing to make you feel every ounce of pleasure before he gets any. He kisses down your jaw, and hums into your ear, “I know, baby. You’re gonna cum, yeah? Gonna be a good girl and cum for me?”

Your walls clench around him as he continues with his filthy words, nodding to say that you will, silently promising to do nothing but be good for him. He can feel you so close to the edge and he will not stop until he has you convulsing beneath him, he whispers, “Drench my hand baby.”

You mewl as you start rocking your hips more intently, meeting him in the middle, fucking yourself on his fingers and your legs begin shaking as you near your climax. The filthy whispers coming from your boyfriend only pushing you closer and closer to your inevitable release. 

It’s not long before you’re letting yourself fall over the edge and fall apart beneath him entirely. Your brows furrow and your lips part to let out the prettiest moans he swears he’s ever heard, your back arching and making your chest press flush with his so he can feel your pebbled nipples through the fabric of your hoodie. Your legs shake and close to trap his hand there, but he uses his legs to keep you spread apart so he can ride your orgasm out. 

Blood rushes down to Matty’s cock, as if getting harder was even possible, but he moans back at the feeling and the sight and the way you entirely come to take over his senses. A warmth coats his insides and he can so easily pinpoint the feeling as it contrasts yet compliments the hunger and the need for you that burns within him.

When you fall limp on the mattress after properly coming down from your high, your boyfriend brings his slick coated fingers up to his mouth and lets out a low, pornographic moan when he tastes you. He does his best to clean his fingers up with his tongue, not wanting to waste a drop of your arousal and all he can think about is how he wants more. He needs more.

But first, he takes on the task of ridding you of your clothes. You’re sweating and there’s a hint of discomfort in your face that he attributes to feeling too hot so he takes your hoodie off first, throwing it somewhere behind him and then he moves back to peel your joggers from you.

The sight of your ruined underwear makes his mouth water, wanting nothing more than to taste you properly again. He dips down and starts kissing up your thighs, drinking in the way your legs continue to shake with his ghostly touch. Every exhale that hits your skin makes you shiver and the tingles that run up your spine from his proximity now that you’re so sensitive makes him want to push yourself over the edge again. 

So much so that when Matty gets closer to your cunt, he asks, “Can I have a taste, baby?” 

He’s almost hurt when you shake your head no and pull his hair to bring him back up to your face. Moving back up, you see he’s frowning like he’s despaired over the denied opportunity to eat you out and have more of your taste on his tongue. 

It makes you giggle, in return breaking his pout, and you cup his face carefully and you pull him in for a kiss that just screams thank you before you demand, “I need you to fuck me.”

The tone in which you say it makes it sound like a plea and Matty groans longingly hearing your wishes. There’s nothing he’d ever deny you, ever. And if you’re to ask for anything, he’d give you only the best. 

And so he’s intent with the way he kisses you. His tongue meets yours instantly and makes you loudly mewl when you taste yourself on it. His fingers digging in the flesh of your waist whilst his other hand comes to wrap around your neck, keeping you in place and eliciting more moans out of your when he presses on the sides so he’s deliciously choking you. 

You’re so sensitive though, you don’t think you can take any more without him being buried deep inside you so the moment he breaks the kiss and pulls back for oxygen, you beg, “Baby please, I need you.” Your hands cup his face with desperation that seeps through your pores, you whine, “Need you please, baby please.”

The guttural groan that rumbles from his chest and up his throat makes you clench around nothing. His lips come back on yours with force, it just screams passion and need, desperation to translate every feeling rushing through him in a way that you can understand without having to say those words he so badly wants to utter.

“My baby’s so fucking good, she says please.” He praises, his hand falling from your neck to join the other one on your waist and lifting your top up and off you so he can have you on show for him. “My baby’s so fucking beautiful and she’s all mine.”

His hot mouth instantly catches one of your nipples, your back arches in pleasure. One of your hands cradles the back of his head to keep him there as he sucks and flicks on your nipple, biting it before moving onto the next one, leaving you a moaning mess beneath him. Your other hand has a white knuckle grip on the sheets beside you, as you writhe under him becoming wetter than you already were after your orgasm and sending you into a frenzy as you feel your oversensitive self start going in the direction of another orgasm. 

It isn’t only his mouth and his touch that’s ruining you, it’s those words of his leaving you dizzy. You had no idea it could get better than before but right now it’s proving that wrong and you don’t know how to gather your bearings when it comes to it. So you let yourself go, of your fears and any inhibitions. 

“Baby, I need you.” You beg in between pants, “Please. You.” You don’t think you’d ever need anybody else. It’s him, and it’ll always be. You’re sure of it.

In a haste to prove that your wish is his command, Matty lets go of the skin he was attacking with a pop, licking it as if to soothe the abuse that is probably going to end up in a bruise. He starts a wake of kisses up your chest and neck until he finds your lips again and he kisses you with a sense of devotion that could make you shed tears. It’s reciprocated and he knows, in the way you hold him and how your body responds to him, the way you take your time and indulge in the feeling, the way your eyes flutter close and you sigh in utter bliss when he holds you. 

When Matty breaks the kiss so he can shed himself of his last piece of clothing, he watches as your eyes shine with adoration and he swears his heart explodes in his chest. His heartbeat is erratic and a mess, entirely out of control under your spell, just like he is as you’ve bewitched him, body and soul. All he can see, hear, breathe or feel is you and he finds that being entirely drunk on you is nothing but a dream. A dream he wishes to never wake up from. He loves you so so much. 

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby.” He promises as he hovers over you again, his joggers now discarded somewhere in the room. He’s propped himself up with his forearm pressed on the mattress and his other hand comes to wrap around his length, bringing it to meet your core and rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your folds. “My baby deserves it, yeah? Always so good to me.”

He watches as the precum on the tip of his cock mixes with your arousal and the sight is so lewd he could bust right then and there. But you snap him out of his trance, feeling like he’s doing this to taunt you, “Matty- Baby, please.”

There’s no actual worded answer, since he just captures you in another kiss but it is brief for when he lines himself up and starts sinking into you, your mouths go slack and you can’t do much more than moan into each other’s mouths. Matty goes slowly until he bottoms out and when you’re filled to the brim of him, you let out a shaky breath. 

Brushing the curls that are sticking to his sweaty forehead with a loopy smile, “Move baby, please. Need you.”

You’re still so sensitive and he can see it from the way your legs tremble around his hips, and he can feel it from the way you’re clenching around him. He doesn’t know if he’s gonna last if you keep talking like that, definitely not if you’re squeezing him like that and if you start drowning the room with those pretty sounds of yours. But god does he want to give it to you nice and slow, so you can feel every bit of each other, so you can savour every second and engrave it in your minds to never leave your memories. 

“Perfect for me.” Matty mumbles as he draws his hips back slowly, until it’s only the tip that’s inside you, just to fill you to the hilt steadily again. “Like you were fucking made for me baby.” He sets the pace, slow but delicious and your moans mix in the most gorgeously pornographic harmony. 

You can feel every vein and ridge, how he stretches you out and drags in and out is heavenly. He groans and moans with every thrust and when you start meeting him in the middle with the roll of your own hips, you both melt into absolute messes. 

“Fuck, Matty.” A mewl leaves you, eyes rolling back in pleasure when he picks up the pace just slightly and hits that spot over and over, “Don’t stop baby. Just like that.”

“Right there?” He asks thrusting deliberately again and when you loudly moan in response, he sighs in bliss, “My girl. All mine. My perfect girl.”

The room is charged with this sense of worship that speaks for the both of you, bringing you closer without a need to use words. In the air, a hint of smoke still lingers but it’s lost and faint in between the aroma of sex, the sounds you’re making and the creak of the springs of your bed. 

Your bodies stick together thanks to the sweat that coats them, the warmth that exudes out of your pores enveloping you together in the most staggering way, almost on the brink of being entirely overwhelming but not being suffocating, more like captivating in the way you’d only dreamed of finding. 

You feel complete, as if you two were meant to fit together and there’s nothing that has ever felt more right. The way his hips snap against yours, the sound of the faint slap of your skin when they meet, your fingers tangled in his curls, him hiding in the crook of your neck, being so close to each other you feel the beating of your hearts and knowing it’s just right when they sync. 

“Baby, I-.” You try to warn in between moans, your ankles wrapping around his lower back to keep him right there where he is.

Your boyfriend has no intention of moving though, being so close to the edge himself, “Me too baby. Fuck.” 

“Need you.” You beg. It’s all you want, all you need. You have to feel him all over you, within you in every sense, just like he already is.

He shudders at your petition, not knowing how much longer he can last with that image in his head. His brows scrunch up as he tries to hold out for longer. His slow but hard pace doesn’t falter for a second, to give you what you want, to make your wishes come true and to have you cum with him because he can’t hold out any longer. 

He groans, sweet nothings being drowned by the sound of your hips meeting, “Gonna give you all you ask for. Always.”

Matty’s hand moves under your thigh, moving it higher, opening you up more to him so his pelvis hits your clit and you jolt at the friction, and it only adds to make your approaching orgasm come faster and harder. Your back arches and you loudly moan in his ear as you cum, all you see is white and you can hear his moans far away like your soul has just exited your body. 

“Oh fuck, baby!” His hips stutter as he cums, but he makes himself continue as he spills inside you, needing to give you all he can so you can ride out your orgasms. He wants to give you his all, his absolute best. 

It hits him again all at once when he opens his eyes and sees you blissed out below him. He loves you so much, his heart beats entirely for you. Selfishly he wishes that all your smiles belong to him like this one does when you open your eyes and see him grinning at you. 

He can’t stop himself from leaning down to kiss you sweetly, hoping that you can somehow understand the I love you he’s trying to say without actually telling you. He’s half sure you somehow understand and he’s happy with that for now so after another peck he lets himself fall limp over you, hiding himself into you when you start blinking your eyes open again.

Nothing is said afterwards, everything being spoken through with actions. His lips leaving sweet kisses on your chest and his fingers drawing faint circles on the sides of your waist. Your fingers brushing his hair back and off his forehead, nails scratching softly at his scalp and making him sigh in content.

It feels like every piece has fallen into place then and you know in your heart what that means. Your brain is fuzzy and you feel the best you’ve ever have, so the smile on your face is inevitable. You wish you could just bottle up the feeling in this very moment and cherish it forever, take a sip of it whenever you’re away from Matty because you know you’ll need it in the future. 

However, you push those thoughts away, focusing on how perfect it feels to be held and cherished by him right now. Enjoying every second of this feeling that you know so well which you’ve finally uncovered with him.

A few minutes of silence go by, the only thing you hear is your settling heartbeat in your ears and you know Matty can hear it too, but you don’t mind. You hope he hears what he’s made of you, a fool for him and only him and you know you’d proudly admit it if anyone were to ask.

The feeling becomes even more prominent when he picks his head up and looks up at you with a loopy smile, one that you mirror before you even get a chance to hear him ask, “How does a shower and facemasks sound?”

“Sounds perfect.” You giggle, god this man knows the way to your heart, “Deal.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

There’s a chill in the air when you wake up, one that makes you want to sink back into your bed and never re-emerge. Half asleep, you turn over and pull your blanket and duvet further up so it covers your shoulders hoping to find refuge in the warmth you’ve created, but as you move, you’re pleasantly reminded you’re not the only one occupying your bed. 

Even in his sleep Matty adjusts himself to have you next to him, needing you as close as possible. And it’s when you feel his arm wrap around your waist and pull you that bit closer that you blink your eyes open just to see if he’s woken up yet, not wanting to miss a second with him remembering he was going away today. 

But he’s right there, next to you in bed with no intention of leaving anytime soon. His fingers digging into your waist as he holds you closer even in his sleep; not even deep in his slumber does he risk you getting away from his hold. 

Seeing him so peaceful, lying beside you with his mouth parted as he softly exhales and his curls spilled over the cotton of the pillow case, you feel your heart squeeze in your chest. In the silence of the room, you find yourself holding your breath like your shaky exhales could disrupt the notion that just became crystal clear: you love him. 

You deeply do, and it’s a love so easy that it just adds to the things that complete you. The way you love an iced coffee regardless of the weather, even if you scold yourself when your fingers go numb as you walk back home or to the office but your heart feels full at the taste of the cold bitterness running down your throat. The way you love listening to rain hit your windows when you’re hiding under your blankets in the warmth of your home. 

He’s become home. Possibly the most important part of it. Somebody you can be entirely yourself with, who seems to cherish you the way you dreamed of someone doing as a kid. Matty’s the one who’s made you believe that love is possible again, something you don’t have to be so scared of anymore. 

It’s strange, recognising the feeling you’d previously lost all hope of experiencing again after making peace with the fact that love was never destined for you. But now it’s resurfaced, and this time it's more intense, so much more overwhelmingly strong than it ever was years ago.  

It’s so relieving knowing that you can have it back and with him but it also terrifies you when the feeling is a bitter reminder of how it had escaped your grasp so long ago, entirely against your will, by someone else’s hand. It’s not like you’re expecting Matty to be reckless with your heart, but experience has led you to be wary and despite wanting so badly to freefall into it all blindly and just driven by the fact that you know you love him, you owe it to yourself to tread these waters carefully. 

You promise yourself that you’ll keep it to yourself for a while, make sure that this isn’t just a honeymoon phase with someone you really like and that you’re not just getting ahead of yourself. It’s difficult since after last night you know it all meant something more, maybe you just want that confirmation from Matty first. 

So you’ll let yourself feel it, protecting your heart a little by keeping silent, but you hope you can tell him in every way other than verbally. You love him so much. You haven’t been this happy in a long time. 

You know it’s a little selfish of you, but after realising you don’t want to waste another second of your time with him or not. You want to see his gorgeous brown eyes again, see that goofy smile you love so much and have him hold you like he never wants to let you go. 

So you don’t give it a second thought when you lean in to him and peck his lips a few times. And because that’s nowhere near enough, you start pecking his whole face in an attempt to wake him up and it takes no time at all. 

Not even a minute goes by until he’s tiredly blinking his eyes open, but even then you don’t stop your small attack. Not until that adorable grin takes over his face and he starts lowly chuckling, gently stroking the skin he’s found available to him on your waist. 

He looks as happy as you feel, your heart so full that seeing him like this makes you think you could melt. Something that you practically do when Matty puckers his lips and you give into the desire to have your lips against his again. 

It's slow and drawn out, but you would have him no other way. Kissing the man you love in bed fairly early on a Sunday morning, it’s everything you could ever want. If you’d have told your past self last year that this would be your future you’d have called yourself crazy, but you’re so beyond glad it’s real. 

You’re in love. And the man who owns your heart pulls you closer into his body where you bury yourself into his neck and wrap your arms around him. Both of you lie there quietly for a while longer pretending there’s no rush at all and you have all the time in the world to stay cosied up to the person you love more than anything. 

~*~*~*~

When you eventually get up, you both decide it’s a cereal in bed sort of morning, both of you opting for coco pops and a long cuddle after you finish. It feels bittersweet for both of you knowing he’s going which is quite sad of you both considering he’s only spending three full days away. 

As you’re both dressing for the day, you offer to drive him to the airport but despite wanting you with him until the last possible second, he planned on leaving his car there until his early arrival to get him back home faster on Thursday, and eventually back to you in time to get ready for your party. This gives you some time to think about something, which ends up with you pathetically overthinking about a little thing that you really shouldn’t be worried about. 

Yes it was too soon to tell him that you loved him, but giving him keys to your flat you thought was a small gesture to let him know that you trusted him enough that you want him to come and go as he pleases. Of course you would want that, you just didn’t know how to bring it up, so you put it off until the last possible second. 

“Matty, before you go…” You stop him before he has a chance to collect his bag. 

“Yeah?” He smiles, definitely glad that you’ve stopped him from leaving. He’ll take anything to stay around you for a little while longer. 

“Last night you said that you were due in early on the ninth?” You double check, your anxiety peaking making you not quite believe your memory. 

“Yeah,” He nods, “I think at like 3am.”

“I- I just wanted to,” You stumble on your words, before you take a deep breath and bite the bullet, “Well I wanted you to have these.” At that you dig into your pocket and pull out your spare set of keys and hold between the both of you. You can’t quite decipher the look on Matty’s face so you drop your gaze and play with the keys as you ramble.

“So you can let yourself in and, you know, come and go as you please. If you want them anyway.” Overthinking, you panic a little thinking he may believe you’re being selfish, “And I’m not giving you them so I don’t have to wake up to come and let you in- I just-” Pausing, you close your eyes for a second and after a deep breath you relax enough to say your simple truth, “Yeah, I just wanted you to have them.”

That was just about the cutest thing Matty has ever seen. Still avoiding his eye contact you don’t see how he’s started grinning like a fool. God he loves you so damn much, he wishes he could tell you already. 

Your boyfriend steps forward and gently grabs both sides of your face tilting your head up so he can see your pretty eyes again. When he does, his thumbs caress your cheeks as he grins, “You’re so damn cute, baby.” 

“I’m not,” You press your palm against your forehead, close your eyes and whisper, “That was so awkward, I’m sorry.”

“You're not awkward.” He giggles, wrapping his arms around your waist, trapping you in a hug, “You're adorable being all nervous.”

“Don’t embarrass me before you leave.” You mumble as you hide yourself into his neck, your arms wrapping around his waist and holding him tightly. 

“I’m not,” He grins, kissing the side of your head, “I just love it.” I love you. It’s all he wants to tell you. 

That statement has you chuckling, knowing just how much he likes to make you feel all flustered. But you can’t help but whine a little, “I feel like we've done things so backwards.”

Matty’s eyebrows pinch together a little, pulling back from the hug just enough to look at you curiously, “How'd you mean?”

“We’ve lived together for almost a month and now I'm nervous to give you a key to my flat,” Not to mention I’m in love with you is on the tip of your tongue, “It's weird.”

“We’re weird.” Matty grins, pulling you against him a little more and kissing you sweetly after he says, “Doesn’t mean I don’t love what we have any less.”

Your heart thuds twice as fast hearing him say that. It makes you want to tell him that your heart is well and truly in the palm of his hands. That you’re his, that he’s it for you. That you love him. 

But it's far too soon. Far too risky.

Matty graciously accepts the keys you once again offer him, and he quickly adds them to his own keyring as he teases, “Thank you for giving me them, baby. I promise I won’t sell them on the black market and leak your address.”

That has you giggling but you play along and nod sincerely, “Thank you. Appreciate that.”

Matty chuckles again, pocketing the keys again and wrapping you in another big hug. He squeezes you tight as he declares, “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you more.” You mumble into his shoulder, holding him even tighter not wanting him to go.

It's pathetic of you considering these goodbyes will probably be the easiest you face. Him only being gone for a few days instead of a few months at a time which you’re aware you’ll one day have to face. Today just feels that little bit more challenging because you’ve realised just how much he means to you and you’re scared to let him go. All you want is to wrap yourself up in bed with him again. 

“Doubt it.” Matty hums, knowing there’s certainly no way that’s possible. 

“We’re so soppy.” You giggle a little before scorning yourself, “Who have I become?” 

“A simp.” Matty declares, looking at you with a cheeky knowing grin, “But you've always been one of those for me, haven’t you?” 

Gasping, you grab his hands to try and pry him off your waist as you scorn him, “You know too much, get outttt!”

“But I don’t want to.” Matty whines, tightening his grip so you can’t get away and he’s pleased when you relent and let him keep ahold of you. He buries his head into your neck as he says, “I’ll cancel on Jack and stay right here.”

As much as you would absolutely love for him to stay here and kiss your neck until he’s bruised your skin, you don’t let him cancel his plans. Your fingers wind up in his curls and you tug a little on them so he shows his face as you try and make him feel better about his trip, “You’ll be back before you know it, and I’m only ever on the other end of the phone.”

“Promise you’ll answer?” Matty puts his best puppy dog eyes on for that question. 

You grin, “Always.” As if you’d ever ignore him. 

“Unless you’re asleep.” Matty adds, knowing you far too well.

But even so, you’d give up sleep to talk to the man you love. But of course you need to keep his ego under control so you don’t let him know that just yet. 

“Unless I’m asleep.” You grin, happily playing with the curls at the nape of his neck as you grin, “I’ve trained you so well. Such a good boy.”

Matty squeezes you tighter hearing that, a physical and verbal warning, “Don’t say that or we'll be going right back into your room.”

And as much as you would absolutely love to have him begging for you to praise him back in your bedroom, you’re all too aware he has to be on a plane in the next few hours. 

“Let’s not think about that before you're racing to catch your flight.” You chuckle, trying your best now to get him excited, “Come on, you've not seen Jack in ages, you'll love it once you're out there.”

“I suppose.” Matty sighs, but he has to stop himself from carrying on to sincerely say but not as much as I love being with you.

You hum and smile knowing you’re right and you adore the way Matty doesn’t seem to be able to stop himself from stealing a kiss and then planting so many more all over your face until you’re giggling like a schoolgirl. Hearing your laugh is one of his favourite sounds on the planet, and he’s glad he’s got to experience it one more time before he goes. 

Once the attack of kisses ceased, you go on your tiptoes to trap him in a proper one. A kiss to express what you can’t quite let yourself say yet but you hope he feels regardless. It’s sweet, certainly loving, and you adore the way you both melt into each other and drag it out not really wanting it to ever be over with. 

Unfortunately, it does end with Matty saying a bittersweet, “I’ll see you soon.” 

“Have a safe flight.” You smile, reluctantly slipping out of his grasp to get one of his bags for him, “Please text me when you’re boarding and when you get there.” 

“As soon as I’m downstairs I’ll be texting you, baby.” Matty smiles, “Don’t have to worry about that.”

For a minute you say that you’ll come down to see him off but he makes you stay put, not wanting you to get cold. That and he’s sure it’ll be easier to drive away from you if you’re not actually waving him off. 

After collecting his bags, and both stand at your open door, you whisper, “See you soon.” not wanting to actually say goodbye at all. Thankfully, you manage to steal one last kiss which your boyfriend is more than pleased about, despite it being that little bit harder to go. 

“See you soon baby.” He just about whispers against your lips before he pulls away and he heads out of your flat towards the stairs. 

Of course, you play the lovesick housewife for a second, watching as he leaves at your door. It’s simpy of you, yes, but you’re in love and you don’t even feel a little shy about it when he catches you. Matty glances back just before he’s out of your line of sight, and he blows a kiss at you which you catch and blow one right back to him with a little wave. 

The I love you’s stuck in each of your throats, neither daring to utter the words as you disappear from the other’s view.

~*~*~*~ 9th February 2023 ~*~*~*~

In the short time you were away from each other, rarely did you feel out of contact considering there was an ocean and a five hour time difference between you. Truthfully, you felt closer to Matty than ever. 

With nothing to do at home other than prep for the Brits, which at this point you’ve met most of the attendees at various events now, making your research light work, you’ve spent most of your time messaging or Facetiming your boyfriend. 

Daily pictures were sent of you both in your various get ups, Matty demanding ones from you even if it was the same joggers as the day before just because he wanted to see you. And when he sent you the multiple options he had to wear, asking you to please help him choose, you were more helpful about taking the piss about him packing so many clothes for a three day trip to New York. 

Matty would surprise you with pictures of random places around New York, ones he stumbled upon on his walks around the city, which were always accompanied by some text along the lines of Doesn’t this place look sick?! Saving it so we can come here next time we’re in New York xxxx

He was making it so hard for you not to call him just to yell I love you!!! 

Before you knew it, the days had passed by and he was at the airport waiting for his plane home. Something which you pretended not to be too excited about despite knowing you were about to get the man you love back. 

Sleep didn’t come easily to you that night, like it did most other nights. No, instead you were restless, tossing and turning all night, probably a little too excited that you were getting your man back. You thought sleep would help pass the time faster but instead it dragged it out, made the wait so much more antagonising. 

You think it might have been around 2am when you eventually got to sleep, which is painfully close to the time he was due to land which in the morning you would scold yourself for not managing to stay up for. But it would not matter soon, when he’d open your door with that key you gave him before leaving and he’d come to be the best interruption to your sleep.

Matty didn’t hesitate for a second to drive to your flat from the airport, wanting nothing more than to curl up next to you in bed and stay there for as long as possible. The drive felt longer with how tired he was, despite sleeping on the plane, but thankfully the 50 minute drive he managed to do in 35 thanks to the lack of traffic and breaking a few speed limits. 

A massive smile made its way onto his face as he pulled his keys from the ignition and saw the ones that would allow him into your home. He felt so lucky, it made him want to get you a key cut to his at the earliest opportunity. He’s a little disappointed in himself that he didn’t think of exchanging keys before you did. 

Despite practically running up the stairs to your floor when he opens the building with the fob, he’s extremely quiet when he opens your front door. He’s not surprised when everything is dark and silent in your living room, he expects nothing less than you being fast asleep in bed which when he finds is true, his heart soars.

Matty finds you all cosy in bed, entirely passed out, your heated blanket that he got you for Christmas wrapped up around you and he can’t help but grin at the sight of you. He’s so happy to be back but he can’t help but quickly and gently brush the few strands of hair that are over your forehead away so he can place a kiss there. 

He’s thankful when he doesn’t wake you up, knowing too well what you’re like without proper sleep. Not wasting more time, Matty strips himself down to his boxers and gently pulls the covers back and slowly eases himself down onto the bed in hopes of not waking you. 

However, the cold air hitting your skin must have made you stir because before Matty even has the chance to pull the covers up over him or turn towards you, he hears a tired but heartfelt, “You came.”

He could cry hearing how surprised you sounded, as if he wouldn’t come when he’d already promised. Matty grins as he shuffles closer to you, raising his arm as he sees you moving to him so he can cuddle you properly, saying, “Of course I did baby, you asked me to.”

Of course you come and steal a kiss, finding his lips surprisingly easily considering your eyes are closed and you’re still half asleep, and Matty would chuckle if he didn’t find you so damn adorable. Even more so when you practically lie on top of him, hiding yourself into his neck and declaring a mumbled, “Missed you.”

“Missed you so much more.” He whispers, pulling the covers up for you more so you don’t get cold, “Go back to sleep.”

He feels you hum against his neck, entirely satisfied with that instruction, and he’s sure there’s a faint smile on your lips as you mumble, “I’m so glad you’re back.”

Matty’s sure his heart leaps from his chest hearing that. It certainly beats faster and he can’t help but hug you closer and kiss the top of your head, “Me too baby, so much.”

It’s about 20 minutes before your boyfriend’s eyes start closing, but by then you’re long gone, back into the deep sleep he disturbed you from. So Matty thinks it’s safe enough for him to whisper, “I love you.” to the girl of his dreams. 

~*~*~*~

“You’re so pretty.” It falls from Matty’s lips for at least the third time in the past hour as he sits on the toilet seat lid and watches as you do your make up. 

His words never fail to make you smile like a fool, so you stop doing your eyebrows to grin at him through the mirror, “You’re too cute.” 

“No, I’m being serious, you're so stunning.” He insists, his curls bounce softly as he shakes his head in disbelief of your beauty.

Rolling your eyes, you sigh. It’s unfair how much of an effect he has on you, your stomach flips and your chest tightens at the amount of love you feel for him. “Stop making me flustered.” Is what you mumble before going back to stare at yourself to continue your makeup.

Matty is ready to go after he had taken a shower and put on a suit that had you biting your bottom lip when he walked back into the bathroom as you did your hair. So he’s patiently waiting for you to finish getting ready, just staring at you in awe and completely in love. 

At first, he had been on his phone as you loosely curled the ends of your hair but when you started doing your makeup, he quickly forgot about the device to gawk at you. After audibly voicing just how gorgeous you were and you jokingly asked for him to stop making you flush, he kept quiet and stuck to just drinking in every little thing you did. Like the way you softly and precisely apply your eyeshadow, how you hold your breath and lean in closer to the mirror as you apply eyeliner to your waterline, how you cock your head to the side to make sure you’ve done a good job with your highlighter. 

But soon a soft frown appears on your face and before he can ask about it, you’re the one to say, “Can you help me please?”

“With what baby?” Matty replies softly, quickly rising from his place to walk towards you.

Your boyfriend walks up until his chest is pressed against your back and he drops a little kiss on your shoulder, attentively listening as you explain, “You used to do really good smudged smokey eyeliner and I want a bit of that but I can’t do it.”

Another peck is pressed on the skin of your shoulder and then you feel the vibration of his understanding hum. He straightens up to look at you through the mirror and asks, “Do you have any vaseline?”

You break eye contact to drop your gaze on the mess you’ve made by the sink, “I think so… here.” 

Handing him the small container, he takes a short step back and wraps his hand around your waist to turn you around to face him. He’s so smooth with his actions and he knows it, a smirk plastered on his face when you come face to face with him, one that you kiss away with a short peck before hurrying him to work his magic. You’ve already put the eyeliner on but trying to smudge it out with your brush like you thought was the way to do it hadn’t worked so you’re just waiting for your boyfriend to do what he used to do for his own eyeliner back in the day.

Matty opens the lid and dips his finger slowly to gather enough for both of your eyes. Your eyes flutter close when his finger comes up to coat your eyelids with a bit of vaseline to rub on your eyeliner. He smiles feeling your hands clutching softly onto his waist, your fingers tapping his clothed skin in a rhythm that he can’t recognise. 

It takes about a minute or two for him to be satisfied with his work, and you smile when hearing him mumble to himself as he rubs delicately but precisely, trying his best to make both eyes look as similar as possible. 

At the loss of his touch on your eyelids and the silence that envelops you, you open your eyes slowly and meet with your boyfriend flashing you the sweetest of smiles. 

“Bit too much, here,” Matty uses the excess on his finger to run it along your lips, smoothing them for you and he smiles when they have a pretty shine to them and his job is done. 

It takes everything in you not to smile as he does it. But he can see the smile in your eyes as he watches you press your lips together to make sure they’re evenly coated. Your boyfriend grins, “Gorgeous.” before quickly dipping down and pecking your lips. 

“Thank you, baby.” You say before turning around to see yourself again, and to say you’re amazed with how well he did was an understatement.

Your mouth falls open in awe of how good it looks, and the giddiness inside you translates into a loud gasp as you smooth a few strands of hair off your face, “It looks so good!” 

Matty smiles bright and proud behind you, his hands on your waist squeeze there a little before he reiterates, “Look stunning baby.”

With the heat that rushes up to your cheeks, you’re not sure you’d need to apply any blush but you still do, and after applying mascara on, you’re ready to put on your party clothes.

Amelia and you had planned your outfits to be entirely Valentine’s day related, so while she was wearing a dress with hearts that looked like little balloons, you had decided to go for a little red number which consisted of a red corset and mini skirt. You had little white wings to go with it and knee high stockings that would be clipped to some garter belt suspenders to make your cupid look sexy.

Looking at your reflection in the full body length mirror in the corner of your room, you know you look hot but your boyfriend is staring at you like you’ve handed him the moon and the stars. Matty is shamelessly letting his gaze run up and down your figure, biting his bottom lip as if containing every sinful thought he’s having about you. 

You’re fully expecting some lewd comment to come from him with the way he’s looking at you, eyes dark with lust and hunger that make your insides melt in a familiar heat that has you excited to come back home already. Yet, what he says is a generous, “Want me to clip these for you?” pointing at the suspenders still unclipped over your thighs.

“Please.” Your nod is eager, matching the desperation underlying his words.

You have to suppress a laugh at the speed in which he leans forward as he’s sitting on the edge of your bed and starts clipping the suspenders to the top of your stockings. 

He does the leg closest to him first, keeping his touch slow and ghostly, making goosebumps erupt in your skin and tingles to run up your inner thighs and almost causing you to shiver. But to clip the ones on your other leg, he gets up from his seat only to kneel in front of you, making a show of looking up at you through his lashes as he blindly clips the one on the back of your thigh. 

Raising your brows at him, your tongue pokes out to lick at your lips and when the first clasp is done, he moves his hands slowly towards the front of your thighs earning a smirk from you. This time he has to look down to clip it, but when he’s done, his fingers dig harshly into your skin for a quick second before he groans, “God, you’re so hot.”

Before you can even register his words, which almost sounded like a moan, he dips his head into your leg and bites the flesh of your thigh. His teeth sink into your skin with a force that makes pleasure rush up your spine and you choke out a gasp. Matty hears you and you feel him chuckle against your skin, your words have completely died on your tongue so he drops a kiss over the bite mark he left and slowly lifts himself up to stand up in front of you. 

The corners of his mouth are lifted into a devilish grin that you know is only promising of trouble. The way he raises his brows expectantly is enough to snap you out of your trance and that’s when you scorn him, “What did I say about not making me flustered?”

If you had known what he’s about to say, you wouldn’t have asked. “I’ll stop as long as you’re fully aware I’m fucking you in these when we get home.”

Your jaw clenches in an attempt to stop it from dropping at his words, “You’re no help.”

Your boyfriend doesn’t say a thing, his hands go from your waist to the bottom of your skirt to adjust it merely an inch, but when he says “Turn around.” you still obediently listen.

Matty does the same when your back is to him, pulling your skirt in perfect place before dropping a trail of kisses from your shoulder up your neck until he reaches your ear and whispers, “All done.”

“Thank you.” You shiver against his chest, actually thinking about fully missing the party just to indulge in his touch and his kisses and that promise (more like a statement) he made just a few seconds ago.

“Anytime baby.” Matty grins at you, and just as you’re about to move to look into the mirror again, a hard slap to your arse stops you in your tracks. You gasp and look back at your boyfriend who’s grin has only got bigger.  

Before you can even get any words out, he defends himself, “You can scold me all you want, but you enjoyed it.” 

His teasing words have you speechless, and after not having a single comeback to throw his way you bite your tongue and carry on getting ready. Your stylist, Chloe, Facetime’s you at one point when you tell her that you’re ready once you have your ‘solemate’ Lamoda heels on which you adore because the base of them is a red love heart.

Thankfully Chloe approves of how both you and Matty look together and she even applauds Matty’s handy work with your smudged eyeliner. So much you know he’s going to give her a hug later to thank her, and now you’re just waiting for the chicken nuggets you put in the oven (yes, you’re self aware that that’s predictable and cheesy of you - Matty has already laughed at you for it) to be cooked before you book yourselves a taxi so you get there earlier than everyone else. 

As you wait, you make some final touches to yourselves before you ask Matty to take some pictures of you. He happily does and makes you giggle as he turns it into a full photoshoot. 

He makes you lie down on your bed, standing on your stool to get a good angle and he has an absolute ball directing you into positions he wants. At one point you get a little too into it trying to tease him and he tells you to stop before he ruins your makeup, which with his skills you have no doubt he would do. 

After that threat you end up taking cute couple pictures, a few with your Polaroid and film camera before you get as many as you like on your phones. Your selfies are adorable, you’re being unable to stop yourself from changing your lock screen immediately to the picture of you both smiling at your phone but Matty’s chin is resting on your shoulder, his grin is all gooey, and his mop of curls is messy and unruly just the way you love it. 

You adore the picture just as much as you love the man in it. Even a quick glance at it reminds you of the way he squeezed you so tightly from behind as you took the picture. He melts your heart entirely. 

As you’re thinking about which picture to post on your story, your boyfriend is being vain for a moment and taking his own mirror selfies to send to the boys. But once he sends it off and gets bullied for being a simp for you he pockets his phone and focuses on himself in the mirror. 

You don’t mind your view at all, you watch as your boyfriend moves his curls a few times trying to get it into the place he deems fit. He sighs, settling for what he thinks is mediocre, and he glances at you as he tells you, “I know your thoughts already but I really wanna gel my hair back right now.”

“No,” Your face falls entirely, not wanting to see that mop of curls scraped back, “Definitely not.”

“But why?” He whines, coming back up to you, pulling you into him in hopes proximity will persuade you, “Don’t you think I look good?”

“Matthew,” You sigh, fixing his tie so it’s a little more in line with his top button, “In that suit you’d look like Patrick Bateman if you gelled your hair.”

You were hoping that your statement would deter him from that cursed hair gel, but you watch as his eyes light up, and immediately you know you’ve said the wrong thing. The smile that grows on Matty’s lips is almost like he’s been told he’s won the Euro Millions, and although you adore it when he smiles, you hate that Patrick Bateman of all people has brought that to his face.

At the same time you say, “No.” Matty excitedly nods, “Yes.”

“Matty, no.” You say louder, as he practically vibrates in your arms. 

He excitedly grins, “I would look so fucking good as Patrick Bateman.”

“Yeah you would,” You admit, raising your eyebrows as you say, “But not at my fucking Valentine’s party.” 

Matty chuckles, pulling you firmly against him by his hand on the small of your back, and he smirks as he says in a low tone, “Halloween this year is sorted.”

You tut at that, narrowing your eyes slightly, sarcasm thick in your voice, “Oh, such a great couples costume.”

Your boyfriend grins now, cooing, “Awhhhh, you wanna do a couples costume.”

And it’s not just because you want to dress up together as a couple that makes him feel all gooey inside, it's the fact that Halloween is months from now and you still picture yourself with him. It makes him feel all tingly inside, and he’s so happy that by the time the both of you get to October 31st he will definitely be allowing himself to declare that he loves you openly and proudly. 

“Yeah well,” You sigh, grinning though as you say, “Guess I’ll have to ask Ross to do a couples costume now.”

Matty’s jaw falls at that, eyes narrowing in an instant as he tells you, “No.”

“Well then,” You chuckle, “No Bateman for you.”

“We shall see.” Your boyfriend smiles, looking into your gorgeous eyes that stand out even more now he’s done your eyeliner. 

He can’t help but lean in to kiss you, loving nothing more than you being in his arms and his lips against your own. He hopes he can feel how much he loves you, how content he is with you having his heart in the palm of your hands. 

And seeing your goofy smile when you both pull away from the kiss hits him like he’s just realised his feelings all over again. God, he loves you so fucking much.

Matty watches as you press your lips together for a second before you inevitably ask, “Can I please put some eyeliner on you?”

“So it’s a no to Bateman but a yes to emo me at your party?” Matty can’t help but teasingly ask.

It’s somewhere between embarrassment and shame that you find yourself hating to admit, “You looked fit as fuck with it on back in the day.”

It takes everything in him not to laugh, knowing that you still can’t quite stop getting too in your head about it when he reminds you of your obsession with him. He goes easy on you, just grinning at you before he kisses you once more. 

“Yeah come on then baby,” Matty chuckles, pulling you back into the bathroom so you can do his makeup in better lighting, “Lets make your dreams come true.”

You follow obediently, but not before half heartedly saying under your breath, “Arsehole.”

~*~*~*~

The moment you step foot in the venue, you’re blown away seeing your and Amelia’s vision come to life perfectly. Heart balloons take over every inch of the ceiling by the main entrance to the cafe, the strings attached to them come draping down like a curtain that you have to walk through to get to the main event. A few mirrorballs hiding in between the balloons, glistening in the lights and bathing the place with shimmer.

To your left you see the big red letterbox that you hoped your guests would actually interact with like Amelia and you had envisioned when you came up with the idea of having it at the party.

The bar is filled with spirits and mixers and you can see the coasters you’d made for the party all waiting to be used right by the endless amounts of Ciroc vodka bottles that you’d been sent after the brand had wanted to be part of your little soiree, all of them decorated with red, white and pink hearts and the name of your event on the side. 

There is a big square table with a blue velvet cloth where the big ice sculpture resides: it’s a giant heart with an arrow going through it, with ‘Amelia’s Valentines Affair’ written on it. That was the name of the event as you had thought, since you were no longer single, it would be only appropriate to make this party along with the holiday all about Amelia and play onto the fact that she was still looking for the one as she did when she went on your chicken shop dates. 

Naturally, your best friend had loved the idea of being the main focus of it all so even the photobooth that you had at the back of the cafe, hidden away in a corner, had been branded as ‘Amelia’s Valentines Affair’. 

It had been so much fun coming up with the names of the drinks for the party, and choosing the catering menu, as well as cake tasting for the triple tier cake that was hidden away in the kitchen of the cafe but for which you were so excited to bring out and share with everyone who would attend.

When Amelia comes out of the kitchen and sees you two, she runs to envelope the both of you in a hug. Instantly, you and your best friend start screeching like schoolgirls just because of how excited you are for the evening, and thankfully you don’t have to wait long because it’s merely fifteen minutes later that the first bunch of guests walk through the doors of the cafe. 

With the DJ playing good tunes that had everyone dancing as they sipped on their themed cocktails, sneaking away to the photobooth, taking shots of vodka out of the ice sculpture and taking loads of pictures and videos on your phone, the night slipped away. 

Before you know it, the gorgeous cake is being brought out by your best friend and she gets a microphone that she taps three times before she speaks into it. 

“Hello everyone! Thank you so much for coming and celebrating Valentine’s day with us!” Claps and cheers erupt in the room, wolf whistles that Amelia entertained by flipping her hair and fanning herself like the attention was making her flustered, “Thank you, thank you. I hope you’ve had a lovely time! I was hoping to find the one for me here, but it seems I’m still stuck third wheeling for this hot Cupid that was rudely stolen from me.” Your best friend rolls her eyes playfully while pointing at you and Matty. A chorus of laughter comes from the crowd, your own giggles getting lost in the sea of chuckles. 

Your boyfriend’s hand comes to squeeze your waist and you get all flustered at the attention you’ve got on you two after your best friend’s words. So many people had come up to you and Matty tonight, completely surprised to see you kissing and dancing, admitting that they thought it was a joke for the sake of the date you’d put out with him or something like Aitch and Amelia’s situation.

It would be an understatement to say it hadn’t filled you with a sense of pride to admit that you were in fact together and not for show, your heart bursting at its seams when Matty would smirk and look at you for a second before looking back at whoever was in front of you and saying, “Got incredibly lucky, didn’t I? Can’t believe she’s mine.”

Amelia’s hand waving in the air, as if dismissing your poor job as Cupid, and continuing her speech is what brings you out of your trance. “It’s okay, this just means I can keep taking hot dates to the chicken shops and it’s good that’s my favourite thing! Erm, yeah, that’s all. Thank you all for coming and, what did Marie Antoinette say? Let them eat cake!” 

The music resumes right after that, but a crowd gathers around the table as you and Amelia do the honours of cutting the cake. You two feed each other the first piece and end up laughing uncontrollably when you smudge a bit of frosting on each other’s faces. Soon after, you start handing out pieces for everyone to enjoy the delicious dessert and end the night in the best way. 

When you finally get home and take your heels off, your shoulders hang in relief. Matty scoops you up in his arms the second his own shoes are off, and he all but runs into your room, dropping you on top of your bed softly only to pounce on your lips with a delicious desperation that you welcome eagerly and match with ease.

The second the kiss breaks for you to take a breath, you quickly mumble, “Wait.” making him get off you and going back out your room to get your bag. 

Ever since you’d gone into the photobooth for the first time tonight, you’d wanted to go back home and put up the strips of pictures you took beside the pictures you already have littered around your room. 

Matty watches from your bed as you put the photobooth pictures up, and a huge smile breaks on his face when he sees you take a step back after you’re pleased with the set up and sigh in content at the moments captured in the printed strips. He pushes himself off your bed, taking two short steps towards you until he’s pressed flush against your back, dipping his head to attack your neck with kisses that you encourage as you tilt your head to the opposite side to allow him more space to burn with those lips of his.

A day celebrating love with you couldn’t be complete without properly worshipping you, hoping the kisses he leaves all over you skin as he sinks down to his knees in front of you are enough for you to know he loves you, he adores you, he would do anything for you. 

His mouth is tantalising as it roams your body, as well as his touch and the force in which his fingers dig into your waist when he guides you back on the bed where he makes you lie on your back for him. 

It doesn’t take long for your legs to be thrown over his shoulders, for his lips to leave a fiery trail of kisses up your inner thighs and make you a mess of desire, throbbing and aching just for him. 

Those three words itch on his tongue, begging to be left out, to let you hear them loud and proud but he swallows them the same way he swallows your moans when he traps you in yet another hungry kiss after he’s run up your body with his lips.

And you surely almost let the words slip when he brings you the most delicious pleasure and release over and over again, so intent and attentive to every one of your needs. Every sound you make only pushes him to get more out of you until tears run down your cheeks from overstimulation, ones that he kisses away so delicately your mind is spinning from the combination of it all.

There’s passion and hunger, desperation and lust; but there’s softness and intention, an attentiveness that could make you cry just by thinking about it all over again, and love, so much of it that has you drunker than any alcohol could ever have you.  

The smiles on your faces don’t leave you when you fall asleep in each other’s arms, your holds so tight as if there was any way of being snatched away from each other, your legs tangled too just in case. 

And you dream of each other because there’s not enough time in the day to spend together, your subconscious incapable of more, replete with each other. And you wouldn’t dare ask to have it another way ever again, not in this lifetime or the ones to come next.

~*~*~*~ 11th February 2023 ~*~*~*~

“Hi.” Charli says once she’s in front of you both with a microphone in hand.

You and Amelia wear the biggest smiles seeing the singer, she looks absolutely stunning and you know you’ll gush about it once the interview is over. The white sheer dress she wears hides nothing and you can only be in absolute awe of her confidence because you would never. A true legend and icon is Miss Charli XCX. 

“How are you?” Amelia beats you to ask.

“I’m good. I’m so excited because I'm here to win an EGOT tonight.” Charli smiles brightly and you have to bite your tongue not to giggle. She continues with her EGOT talk saying,  “I’ve won none…” 

It takes everything in you and your best friend to not burst out laughing when she says that.

“Yet.” The three of you say at the same time and smile at each other. 

You’re quick to put in your two cents about it, “But that’s- because there's a conspiracy against you!”

And you’re glad Charli agrees with ease, “I’m- There is! That’s actually true.”

But you wave her off like she has nothing to worry about, “And it's fine because I've brought my sledgehammer because I know you love… blood.”

Amelia can’t help the cackle she lets out after the second of silence passes after your words, laughter in which Charli joins with the same enthusiasm and you end up giggling like an idiot too. You love the popstar possibly too much, and after spending downtime with her on the boy’s UK tour you’ve never felt so close to her, it is truly no hardship at all to have this interview, after all it's more of a fun conversation.

Once you’ve gained back your composure, Amelia, looking lovely in her Union Jack dress, is the one to get things back on track, “Do you think an award show is a good place to fall in love?”

“Yes!” Charli doesn’t waste a second to answer and there’s a hint of a smirk on her face when she looks at your best friend and states, “And actually I think there is a real chance with you and Andrew Garfield.”

You hum and nod, completely on Charli’s side about it and so the singer adds, “It’s real, like I'm just like shipping it.” 

Before you can audibly agree and tease your best friend for the camera, Amelia looks at it and clarifies with that awkward look on her face she plays off so well, “I just wanna say that Andrew Garfield is not nominated for a Brit Award.” You see members of your crew laughing at that, and it takes everything in you to maintain your little persona. 

“Well, you should’ve brought him as your date.” Charli raises her brows as if scolding Amelia for that.

Amelia scrambles for an answer, mouth opening and closing as she struggles to find her words and the only excuse she can eventually find is, “I don’t have his number.”

The popstar gasps at the information but you’re quick to put your best friend on full blast, “We do have his manager’s number…”

That earns a scoff from Charli, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head, “Girl, you need to lock. That. Down. Immediately.”

“I agree.” You nod with a ‘told you so’ expression on your face that your best friend sighs about.

There isn’t another chance to continue teasing your best friend for she resumes the interview, introducing one of the things you’d planned for when it was Charli’s turn to show up on the red carpet with you two, “We actually got you a present.”

“Really?” The singer asks, puzzled by what of all the things you’ve got behind you on the shelves could it be.

“Yeah.” You nod as Amelia goes to retrieve the canned cocktail you’d picked out for her, a passion fruit martini sounded very Charli to you two.

“This is very me.” Charli says as she cracks the can open, holding it out, away from her gorgeous dress, you and Amelia grin at each other before flashing your smiles at the singer.

“Oooo, it’s fizzy that, isn’t it?” Charli says at the same time Amelia deadpans, “Oh my god.”

Taking a sip, both of you watch her intently to get her reaction and as Amelia hands her the mic back so that Charli can tell you, “Well, it's very warm.”

You press your lips together not to laugh, and Amelia stays silent for a split second before just offering her a meek, “Sorry.”

Charli still takes another sip of the drink, because it tastes really good despite it very much not being the ideal temperature. But then her eyes fall behind you to the trinkets you have lined up which somehow make sense to bring to the Brits’ red carpet, and that’s when she sees them.

Pointing behind you, Charli grins, “I love this! ‘I hate Matty Healy’ but I love him, but it’s like quite-”

Amelia reaches behind you to grab one for the pop icon, and she holds it out for her to reveal the full top. “That’s something I made.” Amelia announces, awkwardly smiling between Charli and the camera. 

“Did you?” The singer asks with a smirk, she stares at you as soon as Amelia nods and confirms with a quick and proud, “Yeah.”

“You seen him yet?” Charli is so amused by the way you’re avoiding eye contact by staring at the display of ‘I Hate Matty Healy’ tops.

To your left you hear your best friend reply, “No, he’s avoiding me.” and the soft, “Ahhh.” that Charli lets out, like she understands the situation.

But of course the singer wasn’t going to let the opportunity to tease you pass too easily, “I’m sure with your best mate around he’s bound to find a way to get over here.” A big smirk tugs at the corners of her lips, “Didn’t leave her alone for two seconds on tour.”

That’s enough to have you turning your head back to face her, a scoff escaping your lips before you quip back, “You act like you weren’t attached to George’s hip.”

“Oh yes, I was.” She says back as she flips her long hair behind her shoulder, “I’m a proud groupie, I will admit that.” 

Fortunately, she gets distracted by taking the top from Amelia and admiring the printed hate message on the front of the white top. She chuckles, “I might have to put this on if my nipples aren’t allowed on the cameras.”

You still shouldn’t have let your guard down that easily, because when she cheekily adds, “Do you sleep in one of these Y/N/N?” you’re fully taken by surprise.

Your jaw falls and Amelia snorts in laughter, which turns into a cackle when all you manage to answer is an out of character, “Get fucked.”

You know you should’ve been more careful when choosing your words when Charli turns them against you by quipping back with, “You keep one on when you’re doing that too?”

The loud gasp that comes from you is enough to send the two girls beside you into a fit of loud laughter. They’re so amused by it all that they completely ignore you as you scold the singer, “Charlotte!” 

Even your crew is laughing at you, so you have no backup from anyone. Jokes on them though, this will be getting taken out of the final edit. 

“Oh you’re going to fucking die when he comes over, he’s not going to play along.” The singer warns you when she stops laughing, patting under her eyes softly to make sure the tears that lined her eyes from laughter haven’t messed anything up.

You roll your eyes, “He’s getting no interaction.” And you really have to hold back from crossing your arms and stomping your feet like a child so she knows you’re serious when you say, “Can we get back to our interview please, bitch?”

She’s insufferable though, your tone only amusing her further so she plays on it by calling you out, “Oh, she's getting feisty.” 

With another sigh, you put on a bright smile again, ignoring the way Amelia and Charli snigger as you go up to the display behind you and grab something. “And to leave, I’ve just got some poppers.” You show it to Charli and the camera, an awkward but oddly proud smile on your face at the pun you know the singer and her fans will get when they watch the interview.

“Oh, oh fun. Fun.” Charli says with faux excitement, seeing the party popper in your hand. 

It gets even more awkward when you announce, “Which I will pop.” as you stare right into the camera, Amelia grabs the party popper you’re handing her and she does the same as you with her own awkward smile stuck on her face.

Charli nods and mirrors you and Amelia, “Okay.”

Your last frame with Charli is of the three of you smiling at camera as you and Amelia pop the party poppers, while Charli holds up her new top. It’s so underwhelming and the silence around you makes it so much funnier, you really try hard not to break character and ruin the shot. 

When the tiny confetti hits the floor, you and Amelia break the scene, turning to Charli and hugging her while thanking her for coming over. The two of you shower her in compliments which she gives back to you, she even makes you and Amelia twirl in your places to show her every bit of your dresses and you blush when she says she’ll be stealing you from Matty later. 

Sadly, her team tells her she needs to go, and after a promise of seeing the two of you inside when you eventually get to the table you’re all sharing, she sing-songs, “I love youuuu!”

You wave at her as she starts walking away, matching the tone she used to reciprocate the farewell, “Mmm love you too!”

A soft frown appears on her face as she points a warning finger, “Don’t flirt too hard with my boyfriend, I’ll cut you both!”

And as payback for all the teasing she put you through earlier, you sing-song back with the fakest smile, “No promises!”   

Charli flips you off behind her back and the last she hears before disappearing to the next media section of the carpet is your loud laughter. And your night continues on. 

This red carpet is particularly tricky, your little set being in the corner after the actual carpet where the celebs were getting photographed and where Roman Kemp and the other presenters were doing their bit for the livestream, but before the attendees made their way into the O2. So by the time people were passing you, it felt like they were mostly in a rush to get inside.

You got lucky with Charli, she knew you were going to be there because Matty had told her as she was getting ready with the boys. And you’re glad she came over because you truly felt at ease in your job for the night now. 

Before the queen of pop, you had the lovely band Flo and the girls were troopers, playing up to yours and Amelia's antics with shitty karaoke microphones you brought along. Kim Petras came over and showed you both some of her dance moves that she’ll be doing in her performance later on that you and your best friend embarrassingly mimicked.

In a weird and unexpected turn, Declan Rice made an appearance which was confusing at the music awards ceremony to have a footballer there. But you made the most of it and kindly offered the West Ham player a Manchester United mug which he unsurprisingly turned down but you got the best kick out of it. You might even offer it to Matty later to get him scowling at you. 

And after you interviewed the lovely Greg James, that was when Charli wondered over and you got bullied. Alas, the rest of the night must go on and now you are feeling fabulous. 

Aitch came next and you really don't know how you and Amelia kept it together when she offered him his fake box of belongings back. But despite the jokes that fired between the three of you there was a genuine sincerity there when you wished him luck this evening, and you had a little giggle with him after he handed the microphone back to your crew. 

Some guests tonight weren’t doing press, which was a little upsetting, but you both took it on the chin when you were denied interviews. However, a moment tonight that melted both yours and Amelia’s heart was when Ed Sheeran caught your line of sight and you waved at him. Despite his team telling you that he was strictly not doing press, he came over anyway, not for a recorded interview but for a friendly chat where he hugged you upon greeting you and chatted with you for at least five minutes. 

It was really nice, it made the both of you feel like you belong here a little more, and that you’re not fish out of water. You deserve to be here just as much as the journalists on the other carpet. 

Afterwards, comes people like Stormzy, Shania Twain, Jessie J, David Guetta, and you just interviewed Wet Leg when you spot a few familiar faces, but because you’d class one of them as your friend now you shout her name as she walks past. “Flo!” You shout across to her.

You smile when you see her head whip to the side in search of who shouted her name, and a second later when you move from yours and Amelia's little spot over to the edge of your area and wave does she spot you. And when she does she gasps and waves, which melts your heart entirely. The artist makes her way over to you, looking just as stunning as she always does. As soon as she’s close enough, she has a bright grin on her face as she says an excited, “Hey!” 

“Oh my,” She gasps as she stops in front of you and Amelia joins you at your side, “You two look gorgeous!”

You blush because a compliment from her means the world to you, but seeing her dress you can’t help but coo, “No, oh my god! You look amazing!” And she really does. Tonight, Flo is wearing a gorgeous lavender dress that flows gorgeously down to the ground and pools at her feet.

It’s a beautifully made dress, such a stunning shade of lavender that compliments her skin tone well, made from either chiffon or organza with ruching on the bust and thick ruched straps that hold the dress on her shoulders. The detailing just below her breasts makes the rest of the fabric drape down her body in the way you’d expect a disney princess’ too, and you also note that it cleverly hides her growing baby bump.

As she smiles, thanking you for your compliment, before you asks quietly, “How’s baby Turner doing?”

“They’re doing fineee…” Flo grins, running a hand over her stomach so the flowy material will reveal her bump outline to you and you can’t help but pull her in for a hug when you see how big she's getting.

“Don’t suppose,” You start once you let her go, grinning as you cheekily push your luck, “We can pull you for an interview…?”

“No,” She laughs, shaking her head slightly, “You don’t want me, but I’ll make the Monkeys come on for you.”

“They’re actually coming?” Your eyes go a little wide, Amelia’s too because you both knew they were invited but you never for a second thought they would actually show themselves, “I thought you were coming to sit with The 1975 boys.”

“No, believe me,” She laughs, shaking her head, “I wouldn’t have come to another of these if I wasn’t married to someone up for an award. Not after the last time.”

You’re smirking, about to respond with something witty about that night you remember so fondly watching at home on TV back in 2017. However, your friend's name rings out across the room. 

“Flo!” You all hear a male voice shout from not too far away.

Turning the three of you see none other than Harry Styles walking his way over. And you’re half sure your heart falls into your stomach, Amelia’s probably too, but thankfully his eyes are mostly focused on Flo.  

“Hey Florence,” You and Amelia watch as Harry reaches for the artist, “How are you?”

“Harry, hey!” Flo grins up at him, with a hint of something in her eyes that you can’t quite pinpoint. But you’re too focused on the conversation to dwell on that at the moment. The artist grins and hugs him, “I’m good, thank you. How are you?” 

“Great, thank you.” Harry grins, the black suit doing the man such justice, he almost looks like a god despite the huge flower adorning his chest. He pulls her into a massive hug as if they’re been friends for years, “It’s so good to see you.”  

Am I missing something? You can’t help but ask yourself. You’re more than certain though that Matty has never mentioned Flo being aquaintances or better yet friends with Harry fucking Styles. You’ll be having words with him for that later.  

“God, how long has it been?” Harry thinks out loud, still looking as charming as ever, his eyes never leaving hers. It really makes you feel like you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be. He wonders, “Five years?”

“Six, wasn’t it?” Flo corrects him, still asking despite her clearly knowing, “2016?”

“Right.” You spot the singer almost smirking down at the artist, “The last I saw you was Jamaica, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Jamaica.” She nods confirming and you’re almost sure you see a little embarrassed blush creep onto her cheeks. Flo continues, “Lots has happened since then. Congratulations on your albums, they’ve been amazing. I’m excited for the new one.”

As are you and Amelia. Never in your life have you screamed as hard as when you got your tickets to Love On Tour for one of the nights at Wembley. Except when you got your At Their Very Best tickets… of course. 

“Thank you, but I believe you deserve the congratulations, you’re married to Alex now, right?” The singer asks and the artist happily nods, her love for her husband shining through her eyes as she confirms Harry's thoughts. When she does, his smile is huge, “That’s amazing! I'm so happy for you both.”

“Thank you, got a little more to celebrate now too.” Flo holds her hand subtly against her stomach to tell him without actually having to explain aloud. “If you know what I mean.”

And of course he does. The genuine joy for her that seeps onto his face makes you want to melt when he pulls her into another hug. You and your best friend hear him say, “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you both.”

“Thank you Harry.” Flo grins, as she pulls away from the hug, but she then turns to you and your best friend, introducing you with ease, “Have you met Y/N and Amelia before? They’re trying to get me to a chicken shop but I think you’d be more who they’re trying to recruit.”

“Hey,” You chuckle, raising your eyebrows at her, “You promised me that date!”

“You’ll get it, my love. I’m going to send Alex and the lads over to you and I’ll see you in there.” She promises, quickly hugging the both of you before she embraces the popstar once again, “It was lovely to see you again Harry.”

“The pleasure’s been all mine, Flo.” He kisses her cheek, lucky bitch. “See you soon.” He waves her off as she wanders back over to where you now see the Monkeys' other wives are standing waiting for her before they head inside. 

But who really cares about them when you have Harry fucking Styles standing in front of you, looking you dead in the eye. You’re sure you could pass out at a moment's notice. You’d already been told that he wasn’t doing press, that pretty much no one would get any interaction from him as he would be surrounded by security when he wasn’t on the carpet for pictures. And he was, until he spotted Flo as a familiar face, and now he’s here talking to you and your best friend. And your inner 16 year old self might just pass out. 

“Nice to meet the both of you.” Harry smiles at Amelia and then yourself before he leans forward to kiss each of your cheeks. Immediately, the subtle hints of vanilla, ginger, and woody scent fills your senses, Christ he smells so nice. You’re also never washing your cheek again. And you’re sure your eyes go wide when he says, “I'm a huge fan of the show.”

“You’ve seen the show?” Amelia beats you to ask. And it’s funny, you glance at her and her eyes are just as wide as yours were. Pull yourself together Y/N/N. You weren’t this bad meeting the man you're in love with.

“Of course. I love what you do so much.” Harry makes both of your days when he says, “I think you’re both the best people doing interviews right now.” 

Amelia’s a little lost for words so she’s happy when you manage to get out, “Thank you so much.”

“It’s so impressive and you’re both so funny.” His smile is just as charming as he is, “I love watching your dates.”

Harry Styles loves watching your dates AHHHHHHHHHH!

“Funny you should say that,” Amelia gets her barings back and charismatically chips back in, “Because we love your music and think you should come on a Chicken Shop Date with us.”

Harry smiles at that, expecting nothing less from you gorgeous, talented women, “When the time is right, I’m all yours.”

You smile, appreciating that a lot, but you promise him, “We’ll hold you to that.”

This time he grins at you, “I don’t doubt you will.”

“We’re seeing you at Wembley in June.” Amelia tells him, letting her excitement shine through a little, which you don’t entirely blame her for. His music means a lot to the both of you. 

“Oh,” He smiles brightly, “It’ll be lovely to have you there.” 

You tell him truthfully, “We’re really excited.” But you won’t forgive yourself if you don’t casually plead, “Please play Only Angel again.” needing to hear that song live.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Harry grins before he gets ushered on by his security. 

Instead of following their orders blindly though, he turns back to the both of you with an apologetic look before grasping both yours and your best friend's hand and giving it a tight squeeze as he sincerely says, “Thank you both so much. Sorry I can’t chat for longer, but I’ll see you in there.”

And he takes your breath away when he kisses the top of both of your hands like prince charming, “It was lovely to meet you both.”

You and your best friend just about get your good lucks and goodbyes out as Harry starts being lead through into the main arena, and as soon as he’s out of sight you turn to each other, wide eyed and say, “What the fuck just happened?!” and, “Oh my fucking god!!” at the same time. 

Even when you turn back to your crew, they’re shocked by the encounter too, all not quite believing their eyes. It takes you all a good 5 minutes to recover before you get back into the swing of things. 

A few more celebs make their way over to you, but nothing sparked joy like catching the eyes of Alex Turner, who despite being on a red carpet, smiled at you and looked like he was (dare you say) excited for an interview. 

“Hello, hello, hello.” You greet the band as they walk up to you, all of them slowly walking into your little corner. Matt and Alex are the ones who have a microphone in hand while Nick and Jamie have their arms behind their backs but kind smiles on their faces.

Amelia beams at them all and greets the drummer, who she’d interviewed when you both were at Reading Fest, “Matt, lovely to see you again.”

“And you Amelia, Y/N.” Matt acknowledges the both of you with a smile and a nod of his head.

“How’ve you been boys?” You ask first to get them all talking, making them feel comfortable with you and Amelia before actually heavily putting on your characters for the interview.

It’s no surprise that you end up bringing up their new album The Car and you’re lucky you and Amelia are good at improvising because you hadn’t planned for these men to be here at all. Thankfully it paid off quite well and you both start rounding off their interview after a few minutes of you both making them laugh.

“Careful when you go inside, Charli XCX is in there.” Amelia begins and after a brief second adds, “She’s got a thing for cars.”

There’s a dazed look from the Monkeys so you deliver another punchline, “Yeah, if she gets her hands on your car she’ll crash it.”

Alex snorts at that, clearly understanding the reference to her album, no doubt thanks to Flo’s influence. The others laugh along, you hope understanding but you remember you have one more trick up your sleeve that will make the band, and you’re sure anyone who knows the history, giggle too. 

“Oh Al,” You turn to grab one of the t-shirts from the display behind you and hand it over to Alex with a subtle smirk, “Think this top is right up your street.”

He takes it and unrolls it, a chuckle making him shake when he reads, ‘I Hate Matty Healy’ printed on the front and he holds it up over his chest, looks at you two, hand on his hip as if modelling it. 

Amelia nods, “Suits you actually.” as you try to keep a straight face.

“Very fitting.” The singer nods as he mumbles into the microphone, before perking up when seeing there’s more of them displayed behind you. “Can I take one for Flo too? I think she’ll like it.” 

“Course.” You smile brightly, turning back around to get another. 

But when you hand Alex the top, Matt brings the mic up to his lips to ask, “You got any more?” 

Amelia raises her brows and asks rather amused, “You all want one?” and when the rest of the band nods, you can’t help but chuckle to yourself.

“Makes sense because they’re up for the same award as you.” You quip back, giving them a perfect idea for when to wear them, “If they win we will put the tops on for you. Rep the brand.”

Alex hums into the mic softly and nods before mumbling, “Shall hold you up to that.” 

You take that as a sign to end your segment with the band there and you bid them farewell with smiles and keeping up your awkward facades, asking them for a date when they leave your sight and making it an underwhelming moment for the sake of the interview. Amelia giggles as she lets her mic fall away from her lips and you giggle with her, a rush of joy running through your veins as you know the carpet is drawing to a close and the awards ceremony is nearing meaning that you’re so close to have accomplished yet another insane goal in your careers once this is over. You quickly reset your set with new ‘I Hate Matty Healy’ tops knowing it can’t be long now until your boys are due over.

You get a few more guests before the band you’ve dedicated so many years of your life to and who hold your heart (now even more so) in their hands appears in your peripherals, and you try not to look startled as you watch the four men walking your way. 

“Oh god…” You hold your breath knowing this is where things are going to get tricky for you. 

Amelia smirks, “This is gonna be good.” knowing that your boyfriend will have nothing good in mind once he gets to see you.

And he already has.

“Fucking hell.” Matty curses under his breath when you come into his view.

During your FaceTime earlier as you were both getting ready in your respective hotel rooms, you didn’t show him your dress, he only saw you getting your makeup done and he told you that you looked beautiful but then you told him he could wait to see your dress. And fucking hell, he wishes that someone would have forewarned him, his dick is already twitching just looking at you. 

You’re wearing a black dress that starts as a tight corset which dramatically emphasises your boobs. But the long skirt that runs down and reaches your heels only covers one of your legs, leaving the other on show, letting everyone see the stockings and suspenders you’re wearing.

Matty’s chest flares with want and need as he can’t take his eyes from you as your team hand him and George the microphones before all of them make their way in shot. And their order ends up being Ross, George, Adam, and then Matty, which you’re thankful for because your boyfriend is furthest away from you with his wandering eyes. 

As the other boys take in your set, Amelia can’t get the grin off her face as she notices Matty can’t take his eyes off you. She grabs the rest of their attention as she knowingly smiles, “Well, hello.” 

“Fancy seeing you here.” You chip in, looking at the stunning men in front of you.

Ross, Adam, and Matty all wear black suits with white shirts, bowties adorning their necks, while George with his freshly bleached hair looks amazing with his black silk shirt open, showing more of his chest and a stunning chain around his neck. Even yellow tinted glasses make him look like the star of the band, something that you’ll make sure you tell him in front of your boyfriend later.

In fact, what's stopping you right now? 

“If I didn’t know better,” You grin, “I’d think you’re the frontman, George. You’re looking very dapper.”

“Really?” The drummer smirks as he asks, catching the look on Matty’s face when he quickly glances around to the rest of them.

“Thinking I should’ve asked you on a date back then.” You clearly flirt but your awkward persona comes into play like the guys had been expecting since they walked over to you and Amelia.

Matty scoffs, “You’re all chat, you said the same thing about Ross.”

With a roll of your eyes, you continue playing into your joke, “Well, maybe I want them both.”

“No double date?” Amelia asks, trying to hide her smirk behind a puzzled look like the possibility of her joining you on a date with Ross and George was more important than wanting to laugh over the clear taunting aimed at your boyfriend.

When Amelia sees you shrugging, she scoffs and turns to the camera to call you out in the meekest tone, “She’s so selfish.”

“Three nominations boys, how are you feeling?” You ask, completely changing the topic of conversation in hopes that if you continue flirting here and there as the interview continues, you’d get some good reactions for the video from your boyfriend. You already can’t wait to edit all of this together.

“Very grateful.” Adam says humbly after George puts the mic close to his mouth as he sees him nod and mumble beside him.

Amelia is the one to turn to them and let them know of the plan you’d played about with the band that had just been in their places a few minutes before, “Just gotta warn you that if you win, we’ve started a new movement with Arctic Monkeys.”

“With the Monkeys?” Ross asks with a half grin on his face, like he’s suspicious of what you’ve been plotting with the band.

Almost immediately after, Matty asks, “And what would that be?”

But he gets no sign of an answer when you shrug nonchalantly, keeping your face blank and making them even more curious with a tantalising, “If I tell, the surprise would be ruined, no?” 

Matty goes to ask but you tut, “You’ll just have to win and see what happens.”

“Are you feeling lucky? I brought my lucky egg, you can rub it so you can find out.” Amelia says, always comically eager to have people rubbing on the lucky egg she brings to red carpets. She turns to grab it from the shelf just behind the bassist, and you really have to stop yourself from giggling at the way she proudly holds the egg up. It’s genuinely like watching someone care for a baby the way your best friend coos over this egg.

“How many people have rubbed this egg?” Ross asks, an eyebrow raised and his dimples showing faintly beneath his beard due to the smirk that breaks on his face. God, you wish Ross would look at you the way he’s looking at Amelia right now.

And you wish you could be as cool about it as she is, keeping her smirk soft and her shrug indifferent as she replies factually, “Most of Hollywood’s walk of fame.”

“So we’re the best?” Matty asks rhetorically, grinning, “I see.”

“If you do say so yourself.” You say with the hint of a smile on your lips, looking your boyfriend in the eye properly for the first time tonight. 

He looks so fucking good, and the lust in his eyes is so easy for you to spot. It makes you want to clench your thighs together, so you look away from him, back to Adam to maintain your on screen persona. You can do this Y/N. You can do this.

As difficult as it is ignoring the man you love, you push on for the sake of the bit. Amelia puts her egg down as you take the lead on your next question.

“You've been coming to the Brits since 2016 and you’ve won at least one award every year you’ve been.” You state the fact, giving way to the beginning of a bit that you hope gives you the reactions you were anticipating when you wrote it down with your best friend.

“Yes.” George and Adam confirm proudly.

Ross teases with a playful, “You’ve done your homework.”

To that Matty smirks, finding the perfect opportunity to pick on you, “With how obsessed she is with us, I doubt she even had to google that.”

You have to bite your tongue to backchat, sticking to finishing your joke as originally planned, putting on a pout as you fake pity for them when you say, “Be a bit embarrassing if you don't win something tonight, wouldn't it?”

A loud scoff comes from your boyfriend, whilst Adam and Ross giggle and George clicks his tongue softly before scolding you, “We won’t win with that attitude.”

“Ah, true forgot you were up against Harry Styles, sorry.” You wince sarcastically and deem it, “No chance there now.” before you give them whiplash again by randomly asking, “So who was your favourite member of One Direction?” 

They chuckle at the sudden ridiculous question, and you have to press your lips together not to cackle at the sound of George’s laughter mixing with the giggles coming from the rest of the boys. Amelia is the one who continues on the topic by warning them, “You better say Harry or I’ll tell on you when we go inside.”

Comically, they play on the joke and all of them start nodding feigning honesty when they start saying, “Oh yes, definitely Harry.” at different times, repeating their words as they look into the camera so it sounds and looks chaotic. 

“That’s right.” Amelia hums in approval, looking at the camera for a split second before turning back to the band with a new question, “Do you guys have any award show rituals? That you do to bring you luck?”

“Other than rubbing your egg?” Ross asks with an incredulous look on his face, it’s almost as if he’s holding back from laughing.

You sigh like the lack of answers is annoying you and roll your eyes to say, “Yes, other than rubbing Amelia's egg.”

To your dismay they shake their heads and all you do is give the camera a look of exasperation, Amelia is the one who makes you look back at them for she looks straight into Ross’ eyes and firmly replies, “Then I think you really should rub my egg.” She grabs it again and without hesitation offers it up to Ross with hopeful eyes. Something which you all end up laughing at.

Matty sees the way Amelia is looking at Ross and he makes a mental note to keep an eye out about it inside the venue. He knows you’re flirting with the bassist for the bit, and though he’s not the biggest fan of that, it’s keeping him the slightest bit amused; but Amelia is fully gawking at him and it almost seems like she keeps scooting closer to him as you all laugh. 

So instead of keeping the teasing for later, Matty starts taunting your best friend right then, “Sounding a little desperate there, Amelia.”

Your best friend surprises him when she goes from eye fucking Ross to glaring at him in a split second, spouting a stern, “Not more than you look.” towards him because she’s seen just how badly your boyfriend can’t keep his eyes away from your figure and how everything he wants to do to you is written all over his face.

Matty’s jaw drops at her words as the other three boys loudly snort at her publicly outing him, but before they can start bickering, you tut and call them out, “Okay pipe down, no cat fights on the red carpet please.” 

George and Ross can’t help their chuckles, Adam’s head hangs as he shakes his head trying to hide the amused grin on his face but his shoulders shake in silent laughter. Matty’s eyes flick from the fake little stare down with Amelia to you where he loses his breath all over again and he can’t help but look you up and down again. You’re so fucking hot.

Before you can break character, you bring up another question you had prepared, “Any collabs you’re looking to secure tonight?”

A chorus of thinking hum sounds come from your left and as Amelia abandons her lucky egg again, George is the first to break the silence as he honestly replies, “Not that we’ve thought of…”

Ross turns to you and Amelia to genuinely try to answer your question by asking first, “Who’s here tonight?”

But before anyone can give a genuine answer, your boyfriend is back to taunting Amelia by saying, “Maybe Aitch, you know. Just to get the group back together.”

You have to give your best friend props for she easily avoids Matty’s comment and acts entirely unaffected. She puts on a pout and there’s fake pity in her voice when she counters with, “Oh no, I’ve literally just given him his stuff back, that’d be awkward.” 

Turning to look at your best friend, you give her a look that you hope she reads because this could be fucking hilarious. You tap your chin with your finger and hum loudly for a few seconds, an exaggeration of thinking of something, before you start talking again, “You need someone that fits your vibes, you know. Someone that compliments you perfectly.”

“Oh, I know,” Amelia grins, offering, “Yungblud.”

It takes everything in you not to burst out laughing when you see your boyfriend’s face drop into an unimpressed look before he rubs his temple like he’s getting a headache from the mere mention of the name and curses under his breath, “Fucks sakes.”

Your blood rushes with excitement when you know exactly what to add to make this even funnier, “If my opinion counts for anything… I reckon it’d be the morally obvious thing to do.”

Knowing exactly what you’re referring to, George and Ross burst out laughing and they turn to see a smirking Matty that’s holding back his own laughter at what he admits was a good joke. You and Amelia, just like Adam, are trying not to laugh but the amused smirks on your faces give you away. It’s so hard not to laugh when George keeps giggling. 

Amelia manages to compose herself before you, but she completely makes your breath hitch when she turns to your boyfriend and asks, “Planning on kissing any fans at the after party?”

“Just the one.” Matty cheekily replies, a smirk on his face when his gaze falls on you with a hungry look on his face that threatens you to lose your composure. He shrugs nonchalantly as he adds, “Might take her to a chicken shop on the way home…”

You purse your lips as you hum, taking in what he’s saying but acting a fool, pretending not to get the hint and stating, “Lucky one.” with your brows raised in challenge. But Matty notes the hint of jealousy in your voice.

Of course, he wasn’t gonna give it to you easily, not when you’ve been teasing him and flirting with his best mates when you look like that tonight. “Wish I was taking you?” He asks, a challenging look of his own on his face. It only encourages you to play dirtier. 

“Wish Ross was taking me.” You quip back, biting your bottom lip when you see him clenching his jaw at the ease of your answer.

And thank god for Ross knowing exactly what you’re trying to do because he adds more fuel to the fire, asking with a raised eyebrow and a sultry tone, “In more ways than one?”

Even knowing that it’s just a joke, the bassist’s voice manages to get you flustered and Matty seethes seeing the effect Ross has on you even though it’s not that noticeable as you confidently reply, “Many more.”

For the sake of the bit (definitely not driven by the need to stop this and have Ross’ attention back on her), your best friend adds her two cents into the conversation, “But you gotta go on a chicken shop date first.”

“Is that a requirement?” Ross questions her with a brow raised.

“Yes.” Amelia says at the same time as you say, “No.”

Ross presses his lips together when the two of you frown at each other, trying not to laugh as he asks again, “So yes or no?”

“Yes.” Amelia says again and you gasp at her response, almost whining when you go against her words again, “No, she’s trying to sabotage me.”

“She’s dramatic.” Amelia sighs and rolls her eyes at the camera, another gasp coming from you when Matty mumbles a, “Yes.” into the mic.

Narrowing your eyes at your boyfriend for a few seconds, you turn to Amelia and say, “You wanna know drama? There’s drama?” You point an accusing finger Matty’s way and he of course feigns innocence. 

“Me?” He asks in a gasp, “Not me.” But Adam, George and Ross easily agree with you, nodding and concurring that your boyfriend is indeed a drama queen. 

“Without me your lives would be so boring.” The curly headed singer at the edge of the group says, an offended frown on his face that makes you want to laugh.

Ross rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Sure, what would we do without you?” Matty’s mouth falls open at his sarcastic words and Ross puffs his chest out like he’s not taking back what he’s just said. It’s so funny seeing them bicker like children. 

But before you entirely lose grasp on the dynamics of the interviews you usually conduct with Amelia here, you’re the one to ask yet another question. One that was completely improvised but that you hope you can steer into a funny bit. 

“Ross, will you be letting your hair down tonight?” You ask, silently hoping and praying the answer is yes. 

“Depends if we win,” Ross smiles and shrugs, “Could be on the cards.”

“You should, it looks very lucious.” Amelia proudly flirts, “Best hair in the band award would definitely go to you.”

You don’t miss the way the bassists cheeks turn to a hint of pink, and you’re half jealous that Amelia's gotten that reaction out of him. You can’t help but watch them like a TV show as you hear Matty scoff under his breath, “I don't think.” and God you hope the microphone picked it up.

“Speaking of,” To add fuel to the fire, you continue to ask the rest of the band with a smirk on your lips, “Quickfire questions for you… Matty’s worst hairstyle, go!”

The way Matty’s face falls is comical. He looks so offended you’ve even asked that, he’s never even heard you talk about his hair in a negative way except for your clear distaste for when he gels it back, hence why he’d left his curls alone tonight, all he’s done is style them a bit. 

“Easy.” George comes in straight off the bat, “When he looked like a mushroom.”

It takes everything in you not to burst out laughing at the comment and the way you see your boyfriend's head snap towards his best friend. The look of betrayal just gets more intense as your bit continues. 

“Ha, yes mushroom and microphone head over here.” Amelia agrees with George in a split second and you nod too, a wicked smirk on your face when you catch the look on your boyfriend’s face as you wish for this to continue.

“No come on, it was when he looked like a pot noodle for a few months. That was dire.” Ross groans at the memory of his blond long curls, shaking his head in disapproval as he makes eye contact with a very offended Matty.

Matty frowns looking at you and Amelia like you’ve just killed his dog as he complains, “This just turned into a slag Matty off fest or…?”

Holding back your smile, you’re thankful that it doesn’t deter the rest of the band from carrying on bullying their friend. In fact, Adam, the absolute legend, goes straight for Matty’s throat. 

“If we’re being real, that mohawk made him look like a brush,” The guitarist tells you, pulling no punches when he adds, “Was ready to sweep the floor with his head.”

The laugh that bubbles through you then is something you can’t hold back, and everyone but Matty joins in with loud cackles that make the scene feel so familiar, you almost forget that you’re at the Brits red carpet and not on the tour bus on the way to some city in the UK.

“Careful he’ll lock you back up in his basement Adam.” Amelia jokes and it makes the guitarist snort at the mention of a joke he’s seen around twitter so often.

Everyone’s attention is back on you when you tut loudly as you shake your head, “These are all very good answers but I'm afraid you’re all wrong. The right answer is clearly that rat tail back in 2020.” You fake a shiver that definitely would’ve ran down your spine if you were to see a picture of that hairstyle again.

Groans break out around the group, everyone nodding and siding with you but what you’re not expecting is for your boyfriend to narrow his eyes at you and threaten, “Carry on and it’ll come back.”

You don’t leave room for that to even become a possibility as you sternly state, “No it won't.”

Matty challenges you with a smirk on his face,“Wanna bet?” 

One that you match when you challenge him back, folding your arms, “Wanna lose a girlfriend?”

“You wouldn’t.” He says breathily, shocked at the way you just threw that out there.

Eyes narrowing again, you nonchalantly shrug and let him know he’s on, “Thin ice tonight.” and he feels the blood rushing through his veins heating up at the way you’re looking him up and down as if sizing him up.

“Why?” He frowns, questioning your words.

You shrug and your tone makes it sound like it’s obvious, “Your hair is styled.”

He scoffs entirely amused and his cheeks heat as he’s fully aware of everyone’s gazes going from him to you like a tennis match, “You expect me to win an award with my hair looking like I’ve just rolled out of bed?”

This is the only time you struggle to find your words, and your answer is so weak that it makes everyone hold back their laughter, “The fans would appreciate it more.”

It’s so transparent, Matty is the one to tease you for everyone with the most sarcastic tone he could muster, “Yeahhhh, the fans.” 

He knows damn well all that’s going through your head is how badly you want to pull on his hair, and he wants that too; for you to pull on his hair as he disappears beneath your skirt and you make a mess of his pretty face as you cum on it.

“Domesticsss.” Amelia sing-songs in the middle of it all, looking into the camera with an expression that will definitely make you burst out laughing when you’re editing this video.

As a joke of wanting to protect her from the bickering between you and your boyfriend, Ross hooks his arm with Amelia’s and pulls her away as they start shuffling towards the side of your interview area so they can escape, “Dimz, come with us.”

Your staring battle with Matty is cut short when you see them walking her past you, you wrap your fingers around her wrist and pull her back towards you, “She’s staying with me.”

Amelia giggles in the middle of the predicament she’s in, but of course Ross lets her go with an exaggerated sigh for the camera and mumbles something into the mic that you don’t catch before he lets Amelia free from his grasp and she happily scoots back closer to you. 

“Okay, that’s it I guess.” Amelia says with an awkward smile on her face, “Off you go.” 

She shoos them away and you wave at them with the same blank expression which makes them all laugh as they start walking in front of you towards your crew.And there’s a bit of relief that floods you when you know their interview is over. 

As you say a very flat, “Byeeeeee…” all you can think of is how glad you are that you didn’t break character and that it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be to ignore your boyfriend as much as you tried to.

It’s a relief it ended up being quite funny too and you’re so happy you got all that on camera despite definitely knowing that not everything was going to be in the final cut of the video. You can’t wait to edit all this tomorrow, it’s going to be so much fun. 

“What's all that then?” Ross asks as they’re walking away, finally getting to see the display of tops which slander his best mate that has been hiding behind you the whole time.

You turn slightly and showcase it by extending your hand beside it, “Our display, do you like it?”

Ross laughs and nods his head as he starts being ushered away, “Brilliant,” Is what you hear him say before he walks further behind the cameras. George hands someone beside your camera man his microphone and follows the bassist, not before giggling about the display and Adam does the same before following George’s path.

But of course, once he sees it, Matty can’t leave it looking like that. 

“Here, thank you.” He hurriedly says as he hands the mic back, before turning to you and Amelia and come back in shot to correct your set. He doesn’t hesitate to go behind you to your display while stating confidently, “I’ll fix this for you.”

With a speed that makes you want to laugh, he plucks the top that’s folded to show the ‘Hate’ so that it shows ‘Healy’ instead and places it under the one that says ‘Matty’, leaving your display to just say ‘I (blank) Matty Healy’. 

You and Amelia watch expectantly as he reaches for another place on the shelves, grabbing something you don’t really notice before going back behind you and it’s when he places it in the empty spot that you realise what he’s done. 

Matty has put a pair of heart shaped sunglasses in between the ‘I’ and ‘Matty’, leaving your display to say ‘I heart Matty Healy’ in an improvised attempt.

He gives himself a second to look at his creation proudly, turning to the camera and giving it a thumbs up before dashing away from the place you and Amelia take on the red carpet. 

“Of course.” You scoff into the microphone, both you and your best friend shaking your head as if disapproving the whole thing.  

Amelia makes her joke audible by saying, “He can keep lying to himself.” right after. 

But you can’t go along with the joke at your boyfriend’s expense because he comes back in a hurry.

“Now what?” You quickly ask, sighing like you’re exasperated by his return.

But you’re not expecting what he’s about to do when he snatches the microphone from your hands and breathily says, “Forgot this.” into it before handing it blindly to Amelia. 

In a split second he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and cupping your face with his other hand, catching your lips in a hungry kiss and he dips forward so your arms fly around his neck, he swallows the small shriek that falls from your lips.

Everything escapes you when his lips are on yours. Suddenly, the only thing that you know is that your boyfriend has you clutched tight against him and his mouth is moving eagerly with yours, his tongue teasing your bottom lip and you part your mouth to welcome him without even thinking that this is all happening in front of the cameras which are still rolling.

You don’t even hear the surprised, “Oh!” that Amelia lets out as your kiss grows hotter in a matter of seconds, but before it can all come back to you, Matty lifts and twists you to stand back up straight and pulls back. The smack of your mouths separating pierces the silence that has fallen around you, and he drops one last peck on your lips before he runs away once again, leaving you no time to even question what’s happened. 

Amelia pushes the mic into your hands, seeing that you’re too busy being dumbstruck after that steamy kiss to continue your job for the night. The feel of the mic between your fingers brings you back halfway, your gaze moving slowly from your smirking best friend to the camera where your cameraman behind it can’t help but laugh when you’re just blinking at the lenses like a fool for a good minute.

“Ermm… I think we can say tonight has left us speechless.” Amelia quips to the camera before elbowing you to snap out of your trance. 

Jesus Christ, your boyfriend is gonna be the death of you.

~*~*~*~

“Hey baby.” Matty greets you with a smirk, he can’t help but gawk at you all over again and his teeth sink on his bottom lip when he sees those stockings and garters you have under your stunning dress. He can’t wait to go home, after party be damned. 

“How’d it go?” He asks wholeheartedly when you take a seat beside him, his hand instantly coming over your exposed thigh to rub circles on your skin.

You scoff when he acts as if he hadn’t ruined your facade when he pulled that little stunt on you earlier, “Went great other than you embarrassing me.” 

“You loved it.” Your boyfriend rolls his eyes and refutes you with ease, smirking as he states, “The romantic in you wanted to be swept off your feet tonight.” He leans in closer to you and starts kissing from your cheek down your jaw until he reaches your neck and there he nuzzles his face into it, his curls tickling you and making you inevitably erupt in giggles. 

Proud of his effect on you, he leans back slightly and steals a kiss that you just can’t deny because you’ve been thinking of that mouth since he shocked you with that kiss as he was leaving the red carpet.

He’s got you dizzy even before you take a sip of alcohol, and your skin lights up in flames from his fingers tightly clutching your neck. You can’t help but be the one to deepen the kiss, to let him know you feel just the same need as him and even considering skipping the after party entirely just to have him the way you want all night and at the earliest convenience.

But when you pull back and he catches your bottom lip between his teeth, you know that he’s got no issues trying to have you even earlier. Right now. His hand slowly falls from your neck, down your shoulder and arm until he can intertwine your fingers together.

You clench your thighs taking in the lust that has blown his pupils, the way his tongue licks at his lips like he’s indulging in the taste of your mouth even after your lips have separated. He’s eating you up with his eyes and you know him so well, you can almost hear him saying all that he wants to do with you, especially in this dress.  

“Don’t even think about it Healy, I gotta give this dress back when the event is over.” You rest your finger over his lips and warn him with a smirk that you can’t hold back. 

“But-” He fights immediately, his hand squeezing yours like it can help convince you otherwise.

You tut, “No. This is archive Vivienne Westwood and so is Amelia’s. Imagine how much I’d have to pay if I even spill a drink on it.” You tell him as you move your hand away from his lips.

“I don’t care, I can pay.” Matty says easily, rolling his eyes and smirking like he finds your concern over its cost funny or even endearing.

“Sure you can.” You sarcastically reply, a chuckle falling from your lips.

Your amusement dies when he leans back in and his lips brush yours when he starts saying, “There’s no amount of money I wouldn’t be willing to spend on you, baby.” He only leans back a few inches to look you up and down, his eyes almost rolling back in pleasure and a groan rumbling through his chest when he has an eyeful of your cleavage. “Especially not if it means I get to taste you under the skirt of this pretty dress when you look like this.”

Before your boyfriend has a chance to laugh at the way you choke on your breath when he says that, his attention is taken by a familiar face. And you must admit, you're thankful for the distraction, because you think you’d be willing to let him take you somewhere in this huge venue and have his way with you after that comment. 

Alex Turner says hello to the table and eventually stops beside Matty where they hug again and just like you, Matty was surprised to see him here. He asks about where they’re seated and of course about Flo, and when he points out the table, not too far from your own at all, your previous interaction with the artist comes back to the forefront of your mind.

Matty waves over at Flo when Alex points out their table which is diagonal and just a table further in front of yours. You smile brightly back over to her, but then you remember who she introduced you to and you immediately go serious again when you turn to your curly haired brunette.

“You didn’t tell me that Flo knew Harry Styles.” You halfheartedly punch your boyfriend's arm.

“She doesn’t really…” Matty trails off, rubbing his arm and looks at Alex for confirmation of that and he nods, which confuses you even more.

You have to ask, “She met him here with you, right?”

You remember those Brits very well. It’s hard to forget the ‘that rock n’ roll ey’ speech and the shock of seeing who you thought was Matty's girlfriend kiss Alex Turner on TV.

“Yeah, 2014 Brits and I think that’s it.” Alex nods, entirely sure of himself as he has never recalled his wife mentioning that she’d met the popstar after then. 

But you’re not having it. 

Just as George comes up and says hello to Alex too, you think back to the encounter that you witnessed not long ago and tell them what happened. That’s not something you’d blush because of one previous interaction. 

“No, she blushed when he spoke to her. They definitely know each other.” Your eyes are wide and your tone entirely confident when you tell them. Perplexed and confused is the only way you’re able to describe their faces. You continue to tell the three men, “They talked to each other like they actually knew each other. Said that they last saw each other in 2016. In Jamaica.”

At that you watch both lead singers' faces fall entirely, and for a split second you're left wondering what you said wrong as they both gormlessly look at you.

The drummer tunes into the conversation, his eyes wide and shocked, “Did you just say Jamaica?”

You nod, confirming what you heard of the earlier conversation and the three men all look between each other and a few scoffs manage to escape from their lips. What the fuck is going on? You can’t help but think. George, Matty, and Alex all look at each other with their mouths wide and Matty says a quiet, “Surely not.” before Alex’s gaze falls back on you to double check, “Are you sure she said Jamaica?”

“He said Jamaica and she agreed.” You promise them, entirely confident in your response. 

 Alex looks at Matty and almost scoffs,“I can’t fucking believe it.”

Your boyfriend is entirely just lost for words, while George is the one who laughs in disbelief, “I can’t believe we finally know who Jamaica was.” 

“Woah, what?” Your voice raises a little now, a look in your eye that Matty knows means you need to know what's happening. 

Your curly haired brunette finds his voice again, and he’s the one who tells you, “Way back when, Wheels told us all that she signed an NDA on her holiday to Jamaica because she had fun with a celebrity she couldn’t name. And she’s never once told us who it was and now you’ve spilled the beans.”

No. Fucking. Way.

“You mean that Flo and Harry Styles have…?” You trail off, keeping your voice low, not quite believing what you’re actually alluding to. 

Surely not. Surely there’s not a woman alive who can be that fucking lucky. But all three men nod, still looking dazed. Your jaw falls and all you can think is, that woman is living her best fucking life. 

“You’re kidding.” You say, hoping you’re misunderstanding because you’re about to lose your shit.

“We’re not.” Alex tells you and it’s only then that you fully believe and process what you’re hearing. You hand flies over your mouth, “Fuck off.”

And you don’t even hesitate to start walking over to her, and you do so like you’re on a mission. Which you guess you are, a recon mission most definitely. 

“Florence. Turner.” You say in what you can only describe as a teacher's voice, and you sit beside her in Alex’s seat as you scorn her as quietly as you can, “You lucky little bitch, I want to be you. You lucky cow!”

She looks appropriately confused considering you’ve given her no context for your outburst. She chuckles, “What’s all this?”

“Alex Turner. Matty Healy. Harry fucking Styles!” You hold up a finger for each of the men she’s had sex with.“Florence, how do you get these men?!”

“Shhhhh!” Her eyes go wide, and panic is clear to see in her eyes as she whisper shouts at you, “How do you know about that?!”

“I asked the guys how you knew Harry so well and they were confused saying you didn’t. But you were blushing so hard back there so I-”

“I didn’t blush.” She interrupts, entirely adamant that she didn’t but you know better. 

And you don’t blame her for blushing. If you’d fucked Harry Styles years ago and the first time you were seeing him since was at an awards show, married, and pregnant, you’d be blushing too.

“Hun,” You give her a look of disbelief, telling her honestly, “You went as red as a tomato when Jamaica was mentioned.”

“Oh god,” Her hands fly to her temples, eyes wide and then she looks at you dead in the eye. She glances over at the 1975 table where her husband also is, but she turns back to look at you before she even gets to see them. Flo has to ask, “They all know?”

You press your lips together, feeling bad you accidentally split her secret to some of her closest friends, her ex, and her husband/baby daddy. “I’m sorry,” You apologise, but she waves you off, not offended that you’ve let it slip, she’s just mortified that something else related to who she's slept with has come to light at yet another Brit Awards. 

Flo can’t help but think, At least I’ll have the baby as my excuse never to come to another.

Interrupting her thought process though, you can’t help but ask, “On a serious note, is Watermelon Sugar about you?”

“Y/N/N,” Her eyes soften and she sounds as if she's trying not to laugh when she grabs a hold of your hand and starts, “I love you but-”

“No buts!” You stop her, this is serious and there’s no way you’ll be able to function for the rest of the night without getting some clarity. “It’s about you, isn’t it?”

“I’m fairly certain I’m not the only person he’s gone down on in the last six years.” She explains slowly like she was trying to make a child understand how time works.

But you’re far too gone in shock and you can’t help but chat back, “The song came out in 2019. That's enough time to have a song written about you.” A few beats of silence pass since she doesn’t answer and you’re left trying to get a grasp of what you’ve just discovered, “Can’t believe Harry fucking Styles has gone down on you.” 

Flo blushes again, but instead of turning into a stuttering mess, she owns it and coyly smirks at you, “He did more than that.”

Your jaw falls again, “I’m so jealous!”

She can’t help but laugh at that, but she shakes her head and rests her hand on your thigh, “Love, you don’t have to be jealous, Matty's tongue is just as good.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Ah, no buts.” Flo interrupts, not letting you go down that route when she knows just how lucky you are. But she can understand the shock and the need to know, so she promises you, “I’ll tell you all about Jamaica when we’re not about to be on TV, okay?”

You hold out your little finger, wanting her to pinky swear, and it may be childish of you but you think your blossoming friendship can handle it. The gesture seems to light up the artist's eyes because she doesn’t hesitate to hook her pinky around yours, a silent promise confirmed between you. Your little moment ends up being interrupted by a husband with a knowing look in his eye. Alex shakes his head at his wife in fake disappointment, “I can’t believe you.” He looks down and takes his wife’s free hand, “All this time and it was that obvious.”

Clearly past the point of being embarrassed, Flo just shrugs and smirks at her husband, “Sorry Shakespeare.” 

“Is that the reason why you wanted to come back this year, Angel?” You watch as Alex teases her when she stands up and wraps her arms around his neck as his wrap around her waist. His smirk is huge as he presses on, “Being that your fling is up for four awards.”

“You’re up for two.” She reminds him, her fingers deftly brushing his hair from his face. 

“Two that we won't win.” Alex hums, and you can’t help but see just how enamoured he is by her. 

He looks at her as if she’s the only person in the room. As if her smile lights up the entire universe and they’re the only two that matter. She’s his entire world, and it’s so clear to see. 

“Love you all the same.” Flo grins, her fingers routing into her husband's hair. 

His whole face lights up as if it’s the first time he’s hearing her tell him. And he doesn’t hesitate for a second to tell her, “Love you more Angel.” And he leans in to kiss his stunning wife. 

They are somehow cuter than Adam and Carly, and George and Charli. They are the epitome of couple goals and it’s making you long for your boyfriend. 

So before they have a chance to fully immerse themselves into their kiss, you quickly stand and ruin their moment. 

“You’re both disgustingly cute,” You tell them and they don’t for a second look like they mind the halfhearted insult. All Flo does is hug her husband closer and melt into his arms when he kisses her temple as she looks to you. 

You bid the couple farewell when you say, “I’ll see you at the afterparty,” but you look at the artist as you remind her of her promise, “Where we will be having a conversation.”

You turn to start heading back until you hear Flo tease you, “If Matty doesn’t take you straight home to get you out of that dress.”

“He’s already been told no.” You chuckle but you’re getting flustered all over again when remembering his words from just before this whole Jamaica thing had been brought to light.

Flo notices the way you take a deep breath and how it hitches in your throat, and she can’t help but find it funny. She can see it wouldn’t take much to persuade you, so she teases you further, “It’s never stopped him beforeeee.”

Knowing she’s talking from past experience has you losing your mind. Clearly, you’re going to be in for a night to remember when you get back home. But before you give her the chance to catch you flushing over your boyfriend and his horniness, you note that Alex is frowning at his wife after that comment which you can’t help but find funny considering the long history. 

You point at her and playfully sing-song, “I think you’re on thin ice.” as you nod to her husband. You hear her laughing as you turn back and retreat back to your table, where your boyfriend is waiting for you eagerly with a huge grin and his arm over the back of your chair. 

The night grows more and more entertaining as time goes on. The performances are amazing and the speeches make you giggle, as well as the interviews around the place that are fucking hilarious thanks to the Brits feeding alcohol to celebrities all night without being frugal with it. The absolute chaos the Brits bring is just so refreshing compared to American awards. 

All of which Charli has been capturing on her digital camera, the one you have been handed multiple times tonight to capture pictures of everyone around the table. Charli has taken so many of you and Matty, you and Amelia and many selfies that have had the boys creasing all night. You cannot wait to post them on your Instagram when Charli sends them to you next week. 

It was sad seeing both the 1975 and the Monkeys not taking the trophies home but you definitely gasped and yelled when Wet Leg won and they recited Alex’s infamous rock and roll speech from 2014. You started cackling more at it when you saw Flo cry laughing at it and cheering them on all while taking the piss out of her husband even more.

By the time Selin Hizli and Daisy May Cooper made it up on the stage and presented the nominees for Best Rock / Alternative Act, you’re messing about with everyone on the table. You, of course, cheer loudly when the nominees are shown and the two bands you’re rooting for flash on the screen but you’re not expecting either of them to win solely from how the night has gone so far. 

So when the envelope is opened and the winner is announced and you hear a loud, “The 1975!” you rise from your seat like the whole table does and throw yourself into your boyfriend’s arms. It’s a quick embrace as the room erupts in cheers, but you can’t help but cup Matty’s face softly and pull him in for a short sweet kiss followed by, “Congratulations, baby.” before you hug George and Adam. 

Ross is the furthest away so you manage to just blow him a kiss, but your boyfriend steals one more from you before he and the boys head to the stage to accept their award.

You can’t help but grin watching Flo stand up to hug the boys as they walk past. But you let out a loud cackle when Matty pulls back from the hug and cups her face and pretends to go in for a proper kiss, making Flo squeal and slap your boyfriend’s arm playfully. 

Adding to taunting Flo’s Brit experiences makes everyone laugh and when Matty waves the joke off and kisses her cheek instead she accepts it and moves him on so she can hug Ross. Despite that though you see Matty lean down and whisper into Alex’s ear, and when the singer laughs at whatever your boyfriend says it makes their table burst out laughing when Matty kisses Alex’s cheek with as much emphasis as he did Flo’s. 

As you turn to hold Charli while you watch the boys hug the actresses on stage, you glance back at Flo and Alex and cackle when Florence unfolds the top and puts it over her chest and sticks her tongue out at you. ‘I hate Matty Healy’ proudly being waved for all to see. 

Charli turns to see it too and laughs with you, catching Amelia and Carly’s attention who also join in the giggles. You, Charli, and Amelia grab yours from where you put them near the centre of the table and hold yours up to your chests too so you stand in alliance with the Monkeys like you promised. 

People around you laugh, and Carly takes a picture of the three of you like that, reminding you that you have to get a picture of the three of you and Florence in your tops before you leave. Looking back at the Monkeys table, you blow Flo a kiss that she reciprocates and Alex laughs as he shakes his head at his wife. 

Your attention goes back to the stage when you hear your boyfriend start talking and you put the top back on the table as tears well up in your eyes at the sight. You’re so fucking proud of him and the boys, all of them incredibly talented gifting everyone their art wholeheartedly every time without fail, their passion for what they do seeping through every song they make and that’s what you’ve always adored about them.

Your chest swells with pride and your eyes are teary, you manage to grab your phone and start recording as they get off stage and come back to the table. 

Matty hadn’t been able to tear his gaze off you when he was up there and he still isn’t able to stop looking at you, beaming at him with those eyes of yours gleaming under the lights. 

Oxygen escapes him all over again when all of you come back into view, and he’s so glad you’re still recording because he knows you’ll have captured the way you turn him entirely stupid at the mere sight of you. That gorgeous face of yours that he wants to kiss until you push him away, that neck that he’s dying to mark up, that body that makes him lose control of any logic, those arms and hands that hold him the way he’s been craving his whole life. 

He loves you so fucking much, his chest tightens at the thought of telling you right now. 

But before he can even open his mouth, you’re throwing yourself on his arms again and pouncing on his lips without a second to doubt your actions.

Your arms wrap around his neck and his wrap around your waist, the kiss tastes salty from the stray tears that have finally managed to run down your cheek and sweet like all the wine you’ve drank tonight. 

Despite the very large crowd you’ve got around you, you haven’t got it in you to hide away from the PDA this time. You kiss each other slowly and tenderly, like you have all the time in the world. 

And well, you do because Matty can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather than with you. Holding you like this, kissing you like this, sharing his proudest moments with you just like he has shared his struggles with you. 

He fucking loves you, adores you with all he has and nothing’s ever felt so right.

“I adore you.” He mumbles into your lips when he breaks the kiss, your chests rising and falling in rhythm as you take deep breaths.

“Adore you too.” You say back with a massive smile before catching his lips again.  Matty’s heart feels like it’s about to burst at its seams, and it’s nothing to do with the award that he won only two minutes ago. He’s got you and he knows that having you by his side will forever be more than enough. Nothing and no one can compare and he’s certain not a single thing could make him happier. He loves you so so much, all he can do is hope that when he says it, you will make his dreams come true by saying those three words back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: We really hope you enjoyed this one! So sorry it took so long, we promise that it won't take that long for the next one. Can't believe we're coming to the end of this fic, we'll be getting emotional over it soon ahaha. Thank you so much for baring with us and for reading. Please let us know what you thought and we hope you loved it xx

P.S: NRIACC girlies, hope you enjoyed this one too xoxoxoxox 

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[cupcakeslushie]

sorry for nagging you but i wanted to ask if you have some tips on making comics. I’ve trying making many comics but i always lose motivation and can’t seem to get past even the first panel sometimes.

I did make a pretty long post here, with some advice for starting out! But that’s more technical I guess, and it sounds like maybe you’re looking for some motivational advice? So in addition to that post, I’d say…

Don’t look at these panels where you’re stuck as failures. Look at them, instead, as first drafts!! Keep the early planning stages loose, so it doesn’t feel like an arrow to the heart if you have to make changes. Many artists need to see their thoughts collected somewhere before they can refine things and move on to the next stage. Another big thing is learning to be okay with throwing those drafts away when they become more of a roadblock than a step towards that awesome, final version you’ve got knocking around in your head.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve spent an hour plotting the composition of a panel…or maybe I’ve gotten too focused on the little details of a character’s expression, but the rest of the shot has just….idk died. I’ll copy and paste what I did like, and delete what’s not working or I’ll completely start over, no fuss. Wipe my hands of it and refuse to look at it as a failure. If I drew it once, I can draw it again! Practice isn’t time wasted, it’s time invested into growing! Drawing is drawing!

It’s always good to look back at your work, so you can see your improvement, but only focusing on your unfinished pieces might be doing more harm than good.

And maybe, you don’t have to draw a full 10 page comic from the get go! Try experimenting with shorter form comics! You can tell quite a number of stories in just a few panels! Learning the ins and outs of something new is a lot easier to accomplish when it’s done in smaller increments. That way you can have that feeling of success more often and it’ll motivate you into not giving up!

When I started EW, I was doing parts in like, one or two pages! Because I was still nailing down the comic techniques I wanted to employ. I was gathering brushes and learning how and when to use them! Learning how to create compositions that worked around dialogue bubbles! All the boring parts of comic creating lol. But then, the more comfortable I became with those techniques, the less time they took, and I could really go wild with the creative aspect! Now my updates are much longer!

It’s just a process. But at some point, all the advice and resources in the world can only help so much. You have to be willing to put in the time!

I’d say it’s kinda similar advice they give when you start working out. When you’re first starting, and you try to do more than your body is comfortable with, you’ll be in a lot of pain and won’t want to continue. It’s easy to give up if you’re not seeing results and you feel like you’re wasting your time. But if you start in a reasonable place, and let yourself learn as you go, then you can gain good habits and it’ll get easier!

And only then, when it’s easy, that’s when you challenge yourself! Not when you’re already struggling with just starting! Or it won’t be fun and all of your drive will disappear!

And that’s really what you’re doing this all for, right? For fun!