#a real short one but hey it counts I figure

[modmad]

friend squad enabled me idk what to tell you

also for those who don't know the first panel is refering to this!

[lostfracturess]

HOW TO FAKE DATE A DOCTOR — SATORU GOJO

pairing — doctor!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary — for six months, you've watched dr. satoru gojo order the sweetest coffee on your menu every morning at exactly 7:15 AM. for six months, you've convinced yourself his intense stares must mean he's spotted something medically concerning about you—maybe a suspicious mole or concerning symptom. but when a desperate white lie about a fake boyfriend results in him volunteering to play the part at your family's christmas dinner, what begins as a simple pretend relationship might just turn into something real.

word count — 9 k

genre/tags — coffee shop AU, holiday romance, fake dating, friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, fluff, idiots in love, reader is a med student and barista, gojo is a cardiologist, age difference (reader is 25/gojo early 30s)

warnings — 16+ ONLY. contains suggestive sexual content, non-graphic medical talk

author's note — hey lovelies, welcome to my first attempt at a holiday romance. this was meant to be a short drabble but somehow turned into this 9 k words of pure fluff and pining. it's my little christmas gift to you all hehe. whether you're celebrating with family, working holiday shifts, or just enjoying a quiet day, hope this makes you smile. thank you for reading, and merry christmas !! <3 (fanart in the header)

masterlist

You first noticed him six months ago.

It wasn't just because he was strikingly handsome, with hair the color of fresh snow and the bluest eyes you'd ever seen, though that certainly didn't hurt. It wasn't even because of his white coat and the stethoscope casually draped around his neck, marking him as one of the doctors from the nearby hospital.

No, what caught your attention was the way he looked at you.

Every morning, like clockwork, the bell above the door would chime at precisely 7:15 AM, and Dr. Satoru Gojo would walk into your café. He'd order the sweetest drink on your menu (always with extra whipped cream), and while you prepared it, his eyes would follow your every movement.

It wasn't creepy or uncomfortable. And it definitely wasn't flirting — at least, you didn't think it was. Perhaps he saw something, a suspicious mole you'd never noticed, and now he was trying to figure out how to tell the coffee girl she’s dying without ruining her morning rush. 

That had to be it.

You’d catch his gaze lingering when he thought you weren't looking. Sometimes, he'd tilt his head slightly, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. It made you wonder what he was thinking. Was he judging your latte art? Probably. You were still working on that.

But when you turned around to give him his iced vanilla latte with extra whipped cream and three shots of caramel (it never varied, not once in six months), he'd break his smile to you, his gaze softening for a second, and then his fingers would brush against yours as you handed him the paper cup.

He always thanked you with “Much appreciated”. It made your heart skip a beat, if you'd be honest. Not that you read all too much into it of course. And so for six months, this had been your routine. 

5:30 AM: Arrive at the café.

6:00 AM: Open up, prep for the day. 

7:13 AM: Start making his drink because you knew he'd walk in exactly two minutes later. 

7:15 AM: Heart fluttering slightly as your hand brushed his as you gave him his order.

10:00 AM: Shift end. 

10:30 AM: Rush to classes.

Some mornings, he’d arrive in wrinkled scrubs, the faint scent of antiseptic clinging to him. Other days, it was a tailored dress shirt, sometimes with a matching tie. But the routine never changed.

Same order, same time, the same easy smile that would soften slightly when you remembered his order without him having to say it. Not that it was hard to begin with. 

“Someone’s got a secret admirer,” Maki would say, nudging you with her elbow as Dr. Gojo left. You’d roll your eyes, but a faint blush crept up your neck anyway.

Between customers, you'd try to squeeze in some studying. The early morning shift wasn't exactly ideal, but it paid better, and you needed every cent you could get for your pre-med textbooks. Those things cost more than your rent, it felt like.

Your anatomy textbook usually lay open behind the counter, hidden from customers' view but accessible during slower moments. Sometimes, when the morning rush died down, you'd catch Dr. Gojo's eyes flickering to the pages as you made his latte. His expression would shift slightly, but he never commented on it.

You wondered sometimes if he was judging your highlighting technique (chaotic at best) or your margin notes (mostly question marks). He must have gone through all this years ago, probably with much more grace than your current fumbling through medical terminology.

The café job barely covered your expenses — between tuition, rent, and those damn textbooks — but at least it was flexible with your class schedule. Your manager understood when you needed to switch shifts for exams, and the free coffee helped during all-nighters.

Your coworkers thought you were crazy for taking such early shifts. "No one should be awake at 5:30 AM," they'd say. But they didn't understand the quiet peace of morning prep, the satisfaction of perfect latte art, or the way certain blue eyes would crinkle at the corners when you got his order just right.

It was a small thing, a fleeting smile, a brush of fingertips, but it was enough to make the early mornings, the aching feet, the constant struggle, almost worth it.

Not that you stuck to this schedule just for him. Obviously not. The extra dollar per hour for opening shift was the real motivator. The fact that it coincided with Dr. Gojo's apparent coffee schedule was just... coincidence.

Sometimes, during chaotic study sessions between customers, you'd catch him watching you mouth medical terms to yourself as you steamed milk. His eyes would linger on your textbook, then flick back to your face with that same intense look that made you wonder if he was counting your remaining days or something—or still trying to figure out if that one mole on your cheek was turning malignant.

The morning you had your anatomy midterm, your textbook sat next to the register, full of sticky notes and frantic annotations. You saw him notice it, saw something shift in his expression as he took in the obvious signs of exam stress. That day, he left an extra large tip with a small note that just said "Good luck."

It was probably just pity. He'd been through med school. He knew the hell you were going through. That had to be it. Absolutely. No other explanation.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway, as you added the note into your wallet, shoving it down next to a crumpled grocery list and a faded movie ticket stub, as if burying it under a pile of mundane objects could somehow bury the flutter in your chest.

For six months, this had been your life. Balancing early mornings, late classes, endless studying, and the mystery of a doctor who looked at you like you were a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.

So when he finally broke pattern that random rainy monday morning, it wasn't with some dramatic revelation about your health you’d imagined. Instead, he tilted his head slightly while waiting for his usual and said, "You changed your hair."

You nearly dropped the caramel syrup. After six months of intense stares and loaded silences, after convincing yourself he was cataloging your symptoms or contemplating your mortality, he was commenting on your hair?

"Oh." Your hand instinctively went to the ends you'd trimmed over the weekend. "Yeah, just a few inches."

"It suits you." He said it so casually, like he hadn't just shattered half a year of mysterious doctor mystique with three words. Then, with that same matter-of-fact tone, "The pathophysiology textbook you were reading last week—Robbins, right? It’s really good. Especially the part about metaplasia. Interesting stuff."

And just like that, the spell was broken. No terminal diagnosis. No earth-shattering revelations. Just a doctor who apparently noticed haircuts and had opinions about medical textbooks. 

The sudden normalcy of it all was almost jarring. For months, you’d been half-convinced he was silently cataloging your every freckle, every mole, every perceived imperfection, convinced he was about to deliver some devastating news. Now? He was talking about metaplasia. It was almot—anticlimactic. 

And, if you were being honest, a little embarrassing. All those covert checks in the reflection of the espresso machine, all those frantic Google searches for “atypical nevi”—for this?

You almost wanted to laugh.

After that day, your morning routine shifted slightly. He still came in at exactly 7:15, still ordered the same diabetis-inducing latte, still watched you work with those intense blue eyes the color of glacial ice. But now he'd occasionally comment on your study materials, or mention an interesting case that related to whatever chapter you were currently highlighting.

"Cardiac arrhythmias today?" he'd ask, spotting your textbook. "Had a case of atrial fibrillation yesterday. The patient presented with…" He’d then launch into a quick explanation, sketching a diagram on a napkin that somehow made more sense than three hours of lecture on the same topic.

Your coworkers were almost disappointed by this development. "That's it?" Maki had said when you told her. "Six months of smoldering looks and he just... helps you study?"

But somehow, it felt right. The mysterious doctor with pretty eyes turned out to be just a man who noticed details and perhaps had a soft spot for struggling med students. 

He still made your heart do that stupid flutter thing when his fingers brushed yours during the handoff, but now you had a perfectly logical explanation for that of course—the vagus nerve or some other equally fascinating cardiovascular phenomenon he'd just explained.

That had to be it.

Some mornings, when the café was quiet and you were stumped by a concept, he'd even linger a few minutes after getting his order. He’d lean against the counter, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of his cologne, gesturing with his cup while breaking down complex medical theories into digestible pieces, somehow making autoimmune disorders sound as simple as iced latte recipes. 

"You'll make a good doctor," he said one morning, completely out of nowhere and your cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

Your relationship—if you could even call it that—settled into something comfortably in-between. More than customer and barista, less than friends, but with a rhythm all its own. He'd quiz you while you made his usual, turning morning coffee runs into study sessions.

"Name three complications of chronic hypertension," he'd say while you pumped caramel into his cup.

"Increased risk of heart attack, stroke, and kidney disease," you'd reply, adding the extra shot of espresso he never actually ordered but always appreciated.

"Good. Now tell me about secondary causes."

One random Tuesday morning, however, the bell didn't chime at 7:15. You glanced at the clock, then back at the door. 

7:16. 

7:17. 

A knot of unease tightened in your stomach. It was ridiculous, really. Why did you even care? He was just a customer. A regular customer, yes, but still just a customer. It wasn't like you were waiting for him or anything. You were just—used to the routine. That was all. 

But despite your attempts at rationalization, a small, nagging worry began to gnaw at you. Had something happened? Was he okay? You found yourself staring at the door, your hand hovering over the espresso machine, your usual movements faltering slightly. You even messed up a latte, the foam swirling into a sad, lopsided blob instead of the usual pretty rosetta. 

At 7:20, just as you were about to convince yourself he’d just overslept and that you were being completely ridiculous, the bell finally rang. He rushed in, slightly out of breath, his cheeks flushed. "Sorry I'm late," he said, his voice a little rushed. "Crazy morning at the hospital."

He looked like he’d run all the way, which was odd. Why would he run? It’s not like his coffee was that important. Right? And yet, your stupid heart did a little flip at the sight of him, a traitorous swell of warmth blooming in your chest. He made it. He was here.

He stayed extra long that morning. After the rush died down, he listened to you recite your flashcards, correcting your pronunciation of medical terms with a patience that made you wonder if he moonlighted as a professor. It was a strange sort of intimacy, this shared moment of slow study amidst the busy morning rush and the soft hum of the refrigerators. 

And you never wanted that morning to end.

Your coworkers had stopped teasing you about him—mostly—and started asking if he could explain their own health questions instead. Then came the random stormy Wednesday that changed everything.

The morning had started normally enough—he arriving at 7:15 sharp, you already having his sugar latte ready. But the sky had opened up while he was waiting, rain drumming against the café windows. It wasn��t a gentle shower. It was a deluge, the kind that turned streets into rivers in minutes.

"Did you bring an umbrella?" he asked, watching you glance at the downpour.

"No," you sighed, already dreading the soggy walk to campus. "I checked the forecast last night—it said sunny all day." You internally cursed the weather app.

"When does your shift end?"

"Huh? Oh, uhm 10 AM. I have microbiology at 10:30."

His lips twitched into a faint smile and he left without another word. You tried not to feel disappointed—what had you expected? It's not like he could control the weather.

But at 10 AM sharp, as you were pulling your jacket tighter and preparing to make a run for it, you spotted him through the rain-streaked windows. He was standing outside the café in his white coat, holding a large dark blue umbrella. 

Your heart definitely did more than flutter this time.

"Ready?" he asked when you emerged, as if waiting in the pouring rain for some barista was perfectly normal doctor behavior.

"You didn't have to—"

"Can't have my favorite barista catching pneumonia," he said. "Besides, I'm heading that direction anyway." You knew for a fact the hospital was in the opposite direction.

The walk to campus was suddenly—intimate. It was strange being this close to him. You’d seen him every morning for months, but always across the counter, a safe distance separating you. Now, you were walking side-by-side, the scent of his cologne so close it made it hard to focus on anything but his proximity, to say the least.

"So, what are you studying in Microbiology?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"We're covering bacterial pathogenesis this week," you replied, and the conversation drifted naturally to a discussion of how different pathogens could affect various organ systems like it was normal small talk.

As other pedestrians passed, their own umbrellas bobbing and weaving, he’d subtly pull you closer. Each time he did, your breath would catch in your throat, and a fresh wave of warmth would wash over you. You were grateful for his height, because you were certain your cheeks were flushed a deep shade of red.

It was absurd, how flustered you were by such a simple act, but the feeling of his arm occasionally brushing against yours, the shared intimacy of the small space beneath the umbrella, was enough to send your heart racing.

Desperate to focus on something else, you blurted out, "What kind of doctor are you, anyway? I never actually asked."

"Cardiology," he replied simply.

“Cardiology,” you repeated, the word lingering on your tongue. A doctor of the heart. When you reached the medical sciences building, he paused, lowering the umbrella slightly. The rain had begun to ease, but the air still smelled wet and clean.

"Thanks," you said, meeting his gaze. "For the umbrella escort."

"Anytime." That soft smile again, the one that made your heart do a stupid little skip again.

As you watched him walk away, umbrella tilted against the rain, you realized something had shifted. Maybe you weren't quite friends, maybe you weren't quite anything definable, but whatever this was—it felt like the beginning of something. Something more than just sharing an umbrella on rainy days.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

Winter arrived on a random thursday morning, transforming rain into snow and turning your early morning walks to work into arctic expeditions.

It was during one of these frigid mornings, while you were preparing Dr. Gojo's usual order and the steam from the espresso machines fogging up the frost-covered windows, that your phone rang. Your mother's contact photo flashed on the screen.

You answered with your phone pressed between ear and shoulder, still working the machines. "Hi, Mom."

"Sweetheart! I was just planning Christmas dinner. You're bringing someone this year, right? That nice boy from your anatomy class you mentioned?"

You winced, catching Dr. Gojo's raised eyebrow from where he stood at the counter. "Mom—"

"Because Aunt Marie's daughter just got engaged, and you know how she gets—"

"My boyfriend's actually busy with hospital rotations," you blurted out, immediately wanting to punch yourself. "He's, uh, very dedicated to his work."

"Boyfriend? Why didn't you tell me? What's his name? What does he—"

"Sorry, Mom, huge line forming, gotta go!" You hung up, letting your forehead thump against the coffee machine with a groan.

"That sounded stressful," Dr. Gojo commented, amusement clear in his voice.

You looked up to find him watching you with that slight smile that always made you shiver. "Just my mom being... my mom." You resumed making his latte. "She's convinced that at twenty-five, I'm practically a spinster."

"Ah." He tilted his head. "And this fictional boyfriend with hospital rotations?"

Your cheeks heated. "Seemed easier than explaining why I'm still single. Between work, classes, and studying, I barely have time to sleep, let alone date." You handed him his usual. "Plus, now she'll stop trying to set me up with every eligible male she meets through her book club."

"A creative solution," he said, taking a sip. "Though hospital rotations over Christmas? Sounds like a terrible boyfriend." A playful smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Yeah, well, imaginary men are often disappointing." You started wiping down the counter, needing something to do with your hands. "At least this way I'll have a few weeks of peace before I have to tell her we broke up."

"Sounds like you've done this before," he observed, watching you attack an imaginary coffee stain with perhaps too much force.

"Is it that obvious?" You sighed, abandoning your fake cleaning. "Last year he was studying abroad. The year before that, he was sick. I'm running out of excuses, honestly. Pretty sure my mom's stopped believing me, but she plays along because it's less awkward than admitting we both know I'm lying."

He made a thoughtful sound, then pulled out his prescription pad (why did doctors always carry those around anyway?). You watched, confused, as he scribbled something down and slid it across the counter.

"Here," he said. "My number. Call me during Christmas dinner."

You stared at him. "What?"

"Well, your imaginary boyfriend should at least make an effort, don't you think?" His eyes held that familiar amusement. "I'll tell your mom all about my very important hospital rounds, maybe throw in some medical words. Make it convincing."

You stared at him, mouth slightly agape. Was he… offering to pretend to be your boyfriend? You couldn't quite process what was happening. 

"You know," he said, after you'd probably been quiet for too long, "some of us actually do work hospital rotations over Christmas."

"I know, I just—" You stopped, realizing how her words might have sounded. "Oh god, I didn't mean to imply… I know you probably have to work during the holidays too, I wasn't trying to—"

"Someone has to make sure all those Christmas dinner caused heart attacks are properly treated," he interrupted, that familiar, almost-smirk back on his face, easing the tension in your shoulders. "Though I do get Christmas morning off this year."

You couldn't tell if he was trying to make you feel better about your lie, your accidental insult, or just sharing information. With Dr. Gojo, it was often hard to tell. After a moment of stunned silence, you managed, "Are you… sure?"

"Perfectly.”

"Thank you," you said, finally finding your voice as you picked up the slip of paper. "Really, thank you."

"Anytime," he said, that familiar, soft smile gracing his lips. "Consider it a Christmas gift. From your very dedicated, albeit fictional, boyfriend."

As you watched him leave, coffee in hand and snowflakes catching in his white hair. Even if he was probably going to tease you endlessly about your fictional, workaholic boyfriend for weeks to come, a small, stupid part of you was already looking forward to it.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

The Christmas dinner was a random Friday night.

The table, laden with enough food to feed a small army, was surrounded by the usual suspects and the dinner turned out to be exactly as excruciating as you'd expected. You'd barely made it through the appetizers before the interrogation began.

"So, this boyfriend of yours," Aunt Marie started. "What did you say he does again?"

"He's a doctor," you said into your mashed potatoes.

"A doctor!" your mother brightened. "You never mentioned that part."

Your cousin Sarah leaned forward. "What kind of doctor? Where did he study? How did you meet?"

You were considering faking a sudden illness when your phone buzzed. Dr. Gojo's name lit up your screen with a video call request. You hadn't even suggested a video call—he was truly committing to this.

"Oh, that's him now!" Your mother said, clapping her hands together. "Put him on speaker!"

Before you could protest, you were surrounded by a sea of curious relatives as you answered the call. The screen filled with Dr. Gojo's face, and—oh god—he was actually in scrubs, in what looked like a real operating room.

"Hey, my love," he said as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and the casual nickname hit you like a train, making you forget your own name. You felt your cheeks flush and it didn’t help that he somehow managed to look unfairly handsome even under the surgical lights. "Sorry I couldn't make it. We had an emergency valve replacement come in."

"Are you... actually in surgery right now?" you asked.

"Just finished!" He tilted the phone slightly to show a glimpse of a team of medical staff behind him, all of whom waved. One even gave a thumbs up. "Thought I'd catch you before dessert. Is that your family I see?"

Your entire extended family crammed themselves into frame, cooing and waving at your "doctor boyfriend" who was dedicated enough to call from work.

"Oh my god, he's gorgeous," your cousin said.

"Dr. Gojo," your mother pushed forward, "we're so disappointed you couldn't join us. Though of course, saving lives comes first!"

"Please, call me Satoru," he said, flashing that unfairly attractive smile of his. "And I'm more disappointed than anyone. I was really looking forward to trying your famous apple pie that your daughter keeps telling me about."

Your mother clutched her chest, delighted. You had never once mentioned her apple pie to him. 

"Are those Christmas decorations I see in the OR?" your aunt squinted at the screen.

And indeed, there were actual Christmas lights strung up in the background. Either this hospital was very festive, or he'd gone to ridiculous lengths for this act.

"We try to keep the holiday spirit alive, even here," he said, then suddenly looked off-screen. "Oh, looks like we have another emergency coming in." Dramatic beeping noises increased in the background. "I'm so sorry, but duty calls. It was lovely meeting you all!"

"Such a dedicated young man," your mother sighed after you ended the call.

"So handsome too," Aunt Marie added. "Those eyes!"

You slumped in your chair, caught between mortification and amusement. He really didn't have to go that far—the Christmas lights in the OR? The perfectly timed “emergency”? The entire surgical team playing along? It was almost impressive.

Your phone buzzed with a text: 'How'd I do? The lights were my colleague's idea. They says Merry Christmas, by the way. Your family seems nice.'

Another buzz, a separate message: 'Also, I expect a slice of that famous apple pie at the café tomorrow. After that performance, I think I've earned it.'

You typed back: 'You are absolutely insufferable. That was completely over the top.'

His response came almost instantly: 'Is that any way to talk to your dedicated doctor boyfriend who just saved a life AND charmed your entire family? I'm hurt.'

Despite yourself, you smiled.

Your phone buzzed one more time: 'By the way, your cousin already found my hospital's public contact info and sent a friend request. Should I accept? I feel like a committed boyfriend would.'

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. He was absolutely loving this. 

Way too much.

The next morning, you weren't surprised when he showed up at his usual 7:15, despite it being his day off. What did surprise you was that he was still wearing scrubs. They were rumpled, like he'd been wearing them for a while.

"Please tell me you didn't actually work all night just to make that video call more convincing," you said as he approached the counter.

"You know, I am a doctor in real life, right? This isn't just a cover for your mom." He smirked. "But anyway, just finished an actual emergency shift." He glanced at the paper bag you had waiting next to his usual sugary coffee. "Is that… what I think it is?"

"Your well-earned reward for yesterday's Oscar-worthy performance." You handed him both coffee and pie. "Though I still can't believe you got your entire surgical team to play along."

"Bold of you to assume I had to ask." He took a bite of the pie and his eyes widened slightly. "Okay, your mom's reputation is deserved. This is actually amazing."

"Yeah, well, enjoy it while it lasts, because—" You hesitated, took a deep breath, and decided to just rip the bandage off. "She invited you to dinner. Tomorrow."

He paused mid-bite. "Oh?"

"I told her you're probably busy—"

"What time?"

You stared at him. "What?"

"What time is dinner?" He took another bite of pie, looking perfectly casual about the whole thing. "I actually have Sunday evening off, and this pie has convinced me your mom's cooking is worth experiencing in person."

"You can't be serious."

"Why not?" He shrugged. "I've already met them virtually. Might as well complete the experience. Unless you're worried I'll embarrass you?"

"I'm worried you'll be too convincing again," you said. "My mom's already planning our wedding, by the way. She told me this morning that your 'dedication to work' proves you'd be a good husband."

"Well, I'd hate to disappoint a future mother-in-law."

"This isn't funny!"

"It's a little funny." He leaned against the counter, grinning. "Come on, one dinner. I promise to be slightly less charming this time."

"Somehow I doubt that's possible," you said before you could stop yourself.

His smile widened. "Was that a compliment?"

"That was a complaint about your inability to do anything halfway." You busied yourself with wiping down the already clean counter. "But fine. Sunday at seven. Try not to bring Christmas lights this time."

"No promises." He pushed off from the counter, taking his coffee and pie. "Oh, and by the way?"

"Hmm?"

"I accepted your cousin's friend request. She's already invited me to your family's New Year's party."

He was halfway to the door when he paused, turning back with an expression that was softer than his usual teasing smile. "You look pretty today, by the way. The new sweater suits you." 

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. You hadn't even realized he'd noticed you'd changed from your usual work shirt into a cozy sweater for your afternoon classes.

He was out the door before you could stammer out a response, leaving you to wonder what exactly you had gotten yourself into. And why one simple, genuine compliment made your heart race more than all his dramatic boyfriend performances combined.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

Sunday evening found you pacing a worn path in the carpet by your parents' front door, checking your phone every two minutes. 7:15 came and went—apparently his almost unnervingly precise timing only applied to coffee runs. 

You tried to convince yourself it was fine, that doctors had unpredictable schedules, but a nervous flutter had taken up residence in your stomach.

At 7:20, your mom’s worried, "Maybe he got called into surgery?" was interrupted by the doorbell. You took a deep breath, smoothing down your dress, and opened the door.

Standing there was Dr. Gojo—Satoru, you supposed you should call him now—looking slightly disheveled in a way that somehow only emphasized his unfairly attractive features. His white dress shirt, though slightly untucked at the waist, bore the clear signs of a hurried ironing, and he was carrying what looked like an expensive bottle of wine—definitely not the kind you’d find at the corner store.

"I'm so sorry," he said, running a hand through his already slightly tousled white hair. "Emergency consultation ran late, and then traffic was—"

"It's fine," you interrupted, a wave of relief washing over you. He’d actually come. "Really. You didn't have to—"

But the rest of your sentence disappeared into a surprised squeak as he stepped forward, closing the small gap between you. He leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to your cheek, his free hand settling naturally on your waist, just above your hip, as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

"Hi," he whispered against your ear, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "Missed you today at the café."

You stood frozen, brain short-circuiting from the casual intimacy of it all. This wasn't part of the plan. You hadn't discussed... this. The way his hand felt warm through your dress, how his cologne made you slightly dizzy, how natural it felt to have him this close. It was as if your body already knew this was right, even if your mind was still scrambling to catch up.

"I... you..." Words. You needed words. "You're late."

He pulled back just enough to give you that familiar amused look. "And you're blushing."

Before you could even process that observation—or the fact that your heart was currently attempting to beat its way out of your chest—your mother appeared behind you. "Satoru! We're so glad you could make it!"

He smoothly stepped past you to greet your parents, all charm and apologies for his lateness, seamlessly weaving a plausible story about a last-minute emergency consult and unexpected traffic. He shook your father’s hand with just the right amount of respectful firmness and charmed your mother with a compliment about her festive decorations. All while he left you standing in the doorway, slightly dazed, trying to remember how to perform basic human functions like breathing and blinking.

The slight smirk he threw over his shoulder as he joined the others in the living room told you he knew exactly what he'd done.

Insufferable man.

The dinner was simultaneously the longest and shortest evening of your life. Satoru slipped into the role of doting boyfriend with an unsettling ease, weaving medical anecdotes (carefully tailored for a non-medical audience) and charming compliments into the conversation like he'd been rehearsing for weeks. He even managed to compliment Aunt Marie’s notoriously sweet cheesecake without visibly wincing.

He sat close enough that your legs brushed under the table, his hand finding its way to your knee during your mother's third attempt to bring up wedding venues (she was already browsing bridal magazines online, you’d noticed). The casual touch, which should have made you incredibly nervous, instead felt strangely good, like a shared secret between the two of you in the midst of the family chaos.

"And how did you two actually meet?" your aunt asked over dessert.

"She makes the best coffee in the city," Satoru answered smoothly, his thumb drawing absent circles on your thigh beneath the tablecloth. "Though it took me months to work up the courage to say more than my order."

You nearly choked on your wine. He was mixing truth and fiction so seamlessly you almost believed it yourself. 

Every story he told had just enough reality to make you question your own memory. He mentioned how you study between customers, but added details about imaginary conversations. He even talked about your first "date" with such specificity that you found yourself half-believing it had happened.

His hand never left your leg for long, occasionally squeezing gently when your relatives’ questions became too invasive. Somehow, he’d effortlessly positioned himself as both the charming guest and the attentive boyfriend, deflecting awkward questions with a disarming smile. And you’d never been so grateful for anything in your life as you were for him breaking the pattern on that random, rainy Monday morning.

"He even helped me with pathophysiology," you found yourself saying, leaning into him slightly, enjoying it. Two could play at this game.

"She didn't need much help," he replied, his voice laced with a warmth that sounded genuinely proud. It made your heart flutter. "Just someone to hold her flashcards while she made my ridiculously sweet coffee."

Your father, who hadn't said much all evening, finally smiled. "She works too hard sometimes."

"She does," Satoru agreed, his hand sliding just a fraction higher on your thigh under the table. "Though that's one of the things I admire most about her." A wave of heat rushed to your face, and you quickly looked away, focusing on a particularly uninteresting spot on the tablecloth. This is getting out of hand.

As the conversation shifted to some other topic—something about your uncle's questionable golf swing—you leaned in slightly, whispering just loud enough for him to hear, "You're awfully charming."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping lower so that only you could hear. "Funny, you don't seem to hate it." You felt your cheeks burn even hotter now.

By the time dinner ended, your mother was completely smitten, your aunts were bickering over who would host the next family gathering (with Satoru as the guest of honor, of course), and your cousin had somehow convinced him to follow her Instagram—and had already tagged him in three separate stories.

It was all too smooth, too perfect, too real. 

The way he helped you clear the table, his hand brushing the small of your back in a casual, yet intimate touch as he passed. How he effortlessly recalled every detail you’d ever mentioned about your family, from your grandmother’s obsession with crossword puzzles to your father’s love of bad puns. The soft, lingering looks he gave you when he thought no one was watching, filled with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher.

"You're very good at this," you said as you stood side by side at the sink, washing dishes after dinner.

"At what?"

"Playing pretend."

His hands paused for just a moment. "Who says I'm pretending?"

The wine glass you were drying slipped from your suddenly nerveless fingers. You managed to catch it before it shattered on the tile floor, but not before making enough noise to draw his attention.

"Hey." His hand was immediately at your waist, steadying you. "You okay?"

"Fine! I'm fine, just—" You set the glass down carefully, very aware of how close he was standing.  When you turned to face him, you found yourself effectively trapped between his broad frame and the hard edge of the kitchen counter. "Slippery hands. From the... soap."

"Hmm." His eyes searched your face, and for a fleeting moment, you thought—you could have sworn—his gaze flickered down to your lips before returning to meet your eyes. "You know, for someone who spends all day handling hot liquids, you've seemed very clumsy tonight."

"Maybe I'm just… distracted.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your face as he leaned infinitesimally closer, his eyes fixed on yours. One hand came up to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your cheek, his fingertips grazing your skin, the contact sending a shiver down your spine. "By what?" 

"You're doing it again," you whispered.

"Doing what?"

"Being too convincing."

A slow, almost hesitant smile spread across his face. It was a smile that reached his eyes, a smile that felt utterly real, utterly intimate, making your heart stutter in your chest. "Perhaps," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath against your skin, "maybe I'm not trying to convince anyone anymore."

You could feel his breath ghosting over your lips, the slight tremor in his hand where it rested on your waist, the way the kitchen suddenly felt too warm, too small, too—

"Who wants coffee?" your mother's voice carried from the dining room, making you both jump apart. Satoru cleared his throat, taking a hasty step back, his hand dropping from your waist. 

The rest of dinner passed in a surreal haze, neither of you quite able to forget the charged moment in the kitchen. What was that? You kept replaying the scene in your mind. His hand on your waist, his breath on your lips, the sudden shift in his eyes. It had felt… different. More real than any of the playacting. 

It wasn't until your aunt, after a drawn out round of goodbyes and air kisses, finally got up to leave that anyone noticed the shift in the weather. "Oh my goodness," your mother gasped, pulling back the curtains. "When did it start snowing?"

Outside, the world had transformed into a winter wonderland that would've been charming under different circumstances. At least a foot of snow covered everything, still falling heavily in thick, white sheets.

"The weather alert says it's going to continue all night," your father reported, checking his phone. "They're advising against any travel. Roads are already getting bad."

Your mother immediately switched into hostess mode. "You absolutely can't drive in this, Satoru. These roads won't be plowed until morning, at the earliest."

"I'm sure I can—" he started.

"Absolutely not," she interrupted. "You'll stay here tonight. Both of you."

You nearly choked on air. "Mom—"

"Don't be silly, dear," she said, already bustling towards the hallway. "You can take your old room, of course. It's all made up. Satoru," she called over her shoulder, "I'll go find some spare cloths for you." Then, turning back to you, she added, "And honey, you still have some things in your old room, so it'll be just like old times!"

Old times? What old times? Your childhood bedroom with those old embarrassing school photos and faded posters of your first boyband crush that you’d somehow never gotten around to taking down? This was not part of the plan. This was definitely not part of the plan.

He wasn't supposed to see that side of you.

As you counted down the seconds until you completely died from embarrassment your parents bustled off to prepare the rooms, leaving you and Satoru alone again. He leaned against the window, watching the snow fall, a small smile playing at his lips.

"Convenient weather we're having," you said suspiciously.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying I somehow arranged a snowstorm?"

"At this point, I wouldn't put it past you."

His laugh was soft and warm. "As flattered as I am by your faith in my abilities, even I can't control the weather." He glanced at you. "Though I have to admit, this is working out better than my original plan of pretending my car wouldn't start."

"You're impossible," you groaned.

"So I've been told." He pushed off from the window, moving closer. He stopped just inches away, until you could feel the heat from his body. His gaze dropped—or you thought it did, your pulse quickening at the mere possibility—to your lips for the briefest of moments before returning to meet your eyes. You blinked, trying to clear your head. No, it couldn't be. "Though I notice you're not exactly complaining about the situation."

Before you could formulate a witty retort (or even a coherent thought, for that matter), your mother’s voice rang out from upstairs, effectively putting an end to whatever was about to happen. "I found some spare clothes, Satoru! And honey," she called down, "your old band t-shirts are still in your dresser!"

You covered your face with your hands. "Please forget everything she's about to show you."

"Now how could I possibly pass up the chance to see teenage you's fashion choices?" 

You peaked through your fingers to find him smirking, looking far too delighted by this turn of events. This was going to be a very long night.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

"I really can sleep on the floor," Satoru offered for the third time, shifting his weight awkwardly in the doorway of your childhood bedroom. He looked around, taking in your teenage decorating choices, and you could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

"Don't be ridiculous." You tried to sound casual as you smoothed down the NASA bedsheets you'd had since high school on your small bed, that suddenly looked barely big enough for one, let alone two adults. "We're both adults. We can share a bed without it being weird."

He was quiet for a moment, and when you glanced up, you found him studying your teenage self's wall decorations with poorly hidden amusement. It was a chaotic mixture of faded movie posters (mostly featuring heartthrobs from your early teens), band posters (an ambarrasing One Direction poster taking center stage), and a poorly crafted periodic table, complete with hand-drawn elements and color-coded categories.

"Nice periodic table," he finally said.

"Shut up," you muttered, throwing a pillow at him. He caught it easily, because of course he did. "Some of us were nerds before med school."

You turned to your old closet, pulling out one of those oversized band t-shirts you'd lived in during high school. You gripped the hem of your sweater, suddenly very aware of his presence in the small room.

You could feel his eyes on you, a weight on your back, and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. You paused, your fingers frozen on the soft knit. "Um… could you…?" you trailed off, not wanting to meet his gaze.

He didn't say anything, didn't move. You could practically feel his gaze burning into your back. Finally, you turned, holding your band t-shirt protectively in front of you. "Seriously. Turn around."

He blinked. "You know, I am a doctor. I've seen it all."

"Still," you insisted, your cheeks flushing. "Turn. Around."

He sighed, but finally turned his back, though the lingering amusement in his eyes told you he was still enjoying the situation immensely.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you muttered, pulling the t-shirt over your head. You smoothed it down, then took a deep breath. 

"I would never," he said.

"You can turn around now."

He turned, his face carefully composed, though a telltale twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. His eyes traveled from the hem of the shirt to your face, making your heart stutter. "You look… cute."

"You're a terrible liar.”

You both settled into bed with careful movements, lying rigid as boards, backs facing each other in a vain attempt at maintaining some sort of personal space. The mattress, however, had other plans. It dipped under his weight, creating a subtle slope that kept trying to draw you toward the center—toward him. 

Your childhood bed, which had seemed perfectly adequate when you were sixteen, now felt absurdly small. You pressed against the edge, but it was no use, there couldn't have been more than a few inches between your back and his. You could feel the heat of his body, warming the small space between you, his every breath, the subtle shift of the sheets when he moved.

The silence stretched, filled only with the sound of falling snow outside your window and your own heartbeat. It felt so loud, you were certain he could hear it.

"Thank you," you finally whispered into the darkness. "For tonight. For all of it. You didn't have to do any of this."

The bed shifted as he turned over. After a moment's hesitation, you did too, finding yourself face to face with him in the dim light of the streetlamp filtering through your old curtains. His hair was disheveled from the pillow, his expression softer than you'd ever seen it.

"It was fun," he said simply, his breath warm against your cheek.

A small laugh escaped your lips. "Fun? My mom interrogated you about your entire medical history, my dad made you look at his coin collection for an hour, and my cousin tried to show you every embarrassing photo of me from middle school."

"The braces years were particularly charming."

You kicked his shin lightly under the covers. "Shut up."

He grinned, the warmth in his eyes visible even in the dim light. "I mean it, though. Your family is… lively."

"That's a polite way of saying chaotic."

"They care about you. It's nice."

You studied his face, searching for the truth in his words. "Why did you really come tonight? You could have easily found an excuse to avoid this disaster of a family dinner."

"Would you believe me if I said I wanted to?"

"No," you said. "Nobody wants to spend their evening being questioned by my parents and subjected to my aunt's weird baking."

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, more serious. "Maybe I wanted to understand you better. See where you came from. Meet the people who made you... you."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "Why would you care about any of that?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

You stared at him, suddenly very aware of how close you were, how little space there was between you in this too-small bed. "No," you whispered. "It's not obvious at all."

"Then I must be doing a terrible job of showing you."

Your heart was racing now, your voice barely audible. "Showing me what?"

Before you could respond, he shifted, until he was hovering above you. Your breath caught at the change, at how his white hair fell forward framing his face, at how his eyes seemed to hold entire galaxies in them.

And then he kissed you.

The kiss was nothing like the casual touch of lips from before. It was soft, sweet, and achingly tender at first. He moved against you slowly, his lips parting slightly, inviting you to deepen the kiss. You met his silent invitation, your own lips parting in response. One hand cupped your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek, while the other braced against the mattress, supporting his weight. 

Then, with a soft sigh, he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a gentle urgency that made your heart ache with a longing you hadn’t known you carried. He pulled you closer, just a fraction, the kiss becoming more urgent, more demanding, yet still laced with a surprising tenderness. 

You could feel the rapid thump of his heart against your own chest but then, just as suddenly as it began, he pulled back, breaking the kiss. He didn't move far, though, remaining close enough that you could still feel his breath on your face, see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. "Still think I'm just playing pretend?"

This time, you didn't hesitate. You were the one who moved forward, your hand sliding into his hair, the soft strands tangling around your fingers, pulling him back down to you. His surprised intake of breath was quickly lost as your lips met again.

This kiss was different—deeper, more urgent, six months of watching and waiting poured into a single moment. He made a low sound in his throat as your fingers tightened in his hair, urging him closer. 

His own hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers pressing gently into the sensitive skin there. The weight of him pressed you into the mattress, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your band t-shirt.

"I've wanted to do that since the first time you rolled your eyes at my coffee order," he said against your lips, his voice rough in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

"That long?" You tried to sound teasing, but it came out breathless instead.

He smiled against your lips. "Longer, probably." He pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another to your jawline. "Though watching you try to diagnose yourself with every terrible disease I mentioned was pretty entertaining, too."

You groaned, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Never," he agreed, pressing a kiss to your temple. Then, quieter, more intimate, "But I've got plenty of time to make it up to you."

His lips trailed down your neck, each gentle press sending shivers through your body. When he reached the collar of your t-shirt, he paused, his fingers toying with the hem. "Can I?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and he slowly, teasingly, pushed the fabric up, revealing your stomach inch by inch. The first brush of his lips against your bare skin made you gasp, your fingers tightening reflexively in his silky hair.

He took his time, pressing kisses to your belly, your ribs, the valley between your breasts. His tongue darted out, tasting your skin, leaving trails of fire in its wake. Your back arched, subtly at first, but with increasing urgency as his lips and hands explored your skin.

His fingers, still toying with the hem of your shirt, finally slipped beneath the fabric. He traced the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When his thumbs brushed over your nipples, you couldn't suppress the moan that escaped your lips. "More," you whispered, the word barely audible, but he heard it, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"You sure?"

"Yes," you breathed. "Please."

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your sleeping shorts. Your heart raced, your skin flushed, every nerve ending racing with the promise of what was to come.

He dragged the fabric down your legs, the cool air hitting your heated skin making you shiver. He settled between your thighs, his broad shoulders forcing your legs wider, and lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, his kisses trailing down your inner thigh. And then his mouth was on you, and the world fell away. 

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

The next morning felt like stepping into a dream—a world where Dr. Satoru Gojo, the man you’d spent six months convinced was silently diagnosing you with rare diseases, was actually just a man utterly smitten with you.

It was as if a blurry lens had finally snapped into focus, revealing a picture so obvious you almost laughed. All those intense stares, the carefully timed coffee shop visits, the way he’d linger at your counter, even helping you study—it had never been about mysterious illnesses or professional concern. 

He’d simply been trying to be near you, and you’d been too busy inventing medical mysteries to notice.

And the most embarrassing part? How obvious it had been to everyone else. Your coworkers’ knowing looks finally made sense, as did your mother’s immediate acceptance of him as your “boyfriend.” Even his colleagues had been in on it, helping stage that ridiculous Christmas video call just to make you smile. 

When you later confessed your obliviousness to your coworkers, their reactions ranged from “Finally!” to a bewildered “Wait, you mean he wasn’t actually your boyfriend this whole time?”

Over breakfast, as he effortlessly charmed your mother into accepting a third helping of pancakes he casually dropped the bomb to your mom, “I actually rearranged my entire consultation schedule to match her shifts. I don't even like coffee."

Your mind went blank for a moment. He… what? Then, the implications crashed down on you. He’d rearranged his entire work schedule just to see you. And he hated coffee. He’d only ever ordered those sugary lattes because… because of you.

A blush crept up your neck, and you couldn't believe how adorably dense you’d been.

He met your gaze then, his blue eyes softening in that way that always made your heart flutter. Only now you understood what that look truly meant. He hadn’t been studying you. He’d been cherishing you with his gaze. He’d wanted to see you, to be near you, to simply be with you. And the realization made you ridiculously, undeniably happy.

Satoru walked over to you from where he stood next to your mom and leaned down, his breath warm against your temple, and pressed a soft kiss there. You closed your eyes, savoring the simple touch. God, you wanted more. You wanted him closer, his arms around you, his lips on yours again, just like last night.

You'll probably never get enough of that.

He pulled back slightly, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. His gaze held yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. Then he whispered three words that made your world stand still, "I love you."

Three little words.

But those three words little changed everything.

It felt as though time itself had stopped. He loves me, the thought echoed in your mind, a fragile, beautiful sound you couldn't quite believe was real. You’d imagined this moment countless times in secret, tucked away in the quiet corners of your heart, but you'd never truly believed it could happen.

And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his hand, the sweet scent of pancakes, and the soft morning light filtering through the kitchen window, you knew you’d never been happier in your entire life. 

And most importantly, you didn't have to pretend anymore. He wasn't just someone you were pretending to date for your family's sake. He was actually your boyfriend. Really, truly your boyfriend. And what had once felt like a performance suddenly felt very much like coming home.

But the best part? At exactly 7:15 the next morning, he still walked in, ordered his usual diabetes in a cup, and watched you work with those intense blue eyes. Only now, when you handed him his drink, he'd pull you close for a kiss that tasted of caramel and cinnamon.

"You know," he said one morning, watching you make his order, "for someone smart enough to get into med school, you were remarkably dense about this whole thing."

"Says the man who spent six months staring instead of just asking me out."

"I was building suspense."

"You were being creepy."

"Maybe," he said, then smilled. "But it worked, didn't it?"

And really, you couldn't argue with that. Though you did make his next latte extra sweet, just to watch him pretend to enjoy it.

After all, some things were worth suffering through overly sugary coffee for.

masterlist + tip jar

author's note — if you're familiar with a certain story on my blog, then no you didn't see this story, and this is definitely not a healthier version of another couple, and i absolutely do not have a thing for medical AUs, okay thank you.

anway, this was supposed to get spicier, but time got away from me because i really wanted to share it with you all for christmas so this is only suggestive, but i hope you enjoyed it either way. & thank you so much for reading this far !! your support means everything to me.

wishing you all a very merry christmas !! hope your holidays are filled with sweet coffee, warm embraces, and maybe even a handsome doctor of your own <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here!

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @snowsilver2000 @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna

@cocomanga @nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @shervinss @chiyokoemilia

@janbannan @bloopsstuff

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[starsenha]

WET DREAMS / L.H

Pairing ◊ sub!fem!reader x roommate!dom!heeseung

Genre ◊ SMUT, roommates to ???

Warnings ◊ SMUT (minors dni), cursing, neck kisses, nipple play, petnames, praising, dirty talk, fingering, kind of needy!hee, oral (f. receiving), bigdick!hee, unprotected sex (wrap it up ppl), rough

Word count ◊ 7,4k

Summary ◊ when heeseung moved in with you, Jake's friend, he knew it was a bad idea the moment he saw you for the first time because you were exactly his type. But it became even worse when he started making wet dreams about you.

a/n: not proofread, enjoy!

You were just another broke college student trying to survive the semester when your old roommate decided to move out, leaving you with a hefty rent and an empty room. Desperate for a new roommate, you posted an ad on your school's website. Enter Heeseung, a friend of Jake's – and since Jake was a solid guy, you figured Heeseung would be too. From the moment he moved in, it was clear this was going to be interesting. Heeseung was charming and easy to get along with, but there was one tiny problem: you were exactly his type. Beautiful, sexy, teasing, playful, but also cute and funny. After just a week, the tension between you two was undeniable. It would be a lie to say you didn't feel the same. The sparks were real, and living together was about to get a whole lot more complicated.

But everything became weird after that night: the night he had his first sex dream about you.

Heeseung lounged on the couch, a textbook open in his lap, though his mind was miles away. The apartment was quiet except for the occasional creak and hum from the old pipes. Heeseung was drifting off, and before he knew it, he was deep in a dream.

In his dream, the living room was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of a few strategically placed lamps. He heard the soft patter of your bare feet on the hardwood floor before he saw you. You were wearing nothing but his oversized shirt, the hem barely brushing the tops of your thighs. Your hair was tousled, and there was a mischievous sparkle in your eyes.

"Hey," you purred, leaning against the armrest of the couch. "Whatcha doing?"

Heeseung's breath hitched as he looked up at you, his mouth suddenly dry. "Just… studying," he managed to say, though his voice was thick with desire.

You sauntered closer, a playful smirk on your lips. "Mind if I join you?" Without waiting for a reply, you slid onto the couch, your leg brushing against his. Heeseung's pulse quickened as you leaned in, your lips so close to his ear that he could feel your warm breath.

"You know," you whispered, "I've noticed the way you look at me."

Heeseung swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. "I don't know what you're talking about."

You chuckled softly, your hand resting on his thigh, dangerously close to the edge of his shorts. "Oh, I think you do." Your fingers danced lightly over the fabric, teasing him. "I see the way your eyes linger."

His resolve crumbled, and he turned to face you, his hand cupping your cheek. "You're driving me crazy," he confessed, his voice a low growl.

"Good," you replied, your eyes dark with want. "Because I've been wanting you too."

He crashed his lips against yours, a hungry, desperate kiss that spoke of all the pent-up desire between you. You moaned into his mouth, your body pressing against his, and he could feel the heat radiating from you.

Heeseung's hands roamed over your body, slipping under the shirt to feel the smooth skin beneath. You arched into his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. The air was thick with the scent of arousal, and Heeseung was lost in the sensation of you.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against your lips, his hand sliding up to cup your breast.

You whimpered, your back arching as you pushed into his hand. "I want you, Hee. I want you to take me right here."

Heeseung growled in response, his hand slipping between your thighs to find you wet and ready. He stroked you lightly, eliciting a gasp from your lips. "Fuck, you're so wet for me," he muttered, his voice rough with need.

"Only for you," you whispered, your hips bucking against his hand.

With a low groan, Heeseung positioned himself over you, his hands gripping your hips as he aligned himself with you. He entered you slowly, savoring the way you stretched around him, your moans music to his ears. "God, you feel so good," he breathed, his forehead resting against yours.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Faster, Heeseung," you begged. "I need you."

Heeseung complied, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding. The couch creaked beneath you, but he didn't care. All that mattered was how delicious and incredible you felt around him. Your nails scratched down his back, leaving marks that would linger long after.

"You're fucking mine," Heeseung growled, his pace relentless. "Say it."

"I'm yours," you cried out, your body trembling as you neared the edge. "Only yours."

With a final, powerful thrust, Heeseung sent you spiraling into bliss, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. He followed soon after, his release mingling with yours as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing hard.

Heeseung jolted awake, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His body was slick with sweat, the sheets tangled around his legs. He groaned softly, feeling the unmistakable wetness in his shorts. He just came in his dream. His mind raced, the vivid images of you still fresh, your breathy moans echoing in his ears. He covered his face with his hands, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him. "God, what's wrong with me?" he muttered to himself. "She's my roommate." Heeseung sat up, the room dimly lit by the early morning light filtering through the blinds. He ran a hand through his damp hair, trying to shake off the lingering arousal. But as he glanced at the closed door of your bedroom, he knew resisting his feelings for you was going to be harder than ever.

The next morning, Heeseung reluctantly dragged himself out of bed, the remnants of his dream still clinging to the edges of his mind. He took a deep breath, trying to push it all aside, and headed toward the kitchen, hoping a cup of coffee might clear his head.

As he turned the corner, the scent of something delicious hit him, and he saw you standing by the stove, humming softly as you flipped pancakes. You were wearing an oversized shirt that fell just below your thighs, the fabric worn and soft, clearly not yours. His heart skipped a beat as he realized it was probably Jake's shirt. The thought made him gulp, his throat suddenly dry as the dream came rushing back in vivid detail.

You turned when you heard him enter, your face lighting up with a smile that made his heart do a somersault. “Good morning, Hee,” you chirped, your voice sweet and playful as always. “I’m making breakfast! I hope you’re hungry.”

Heeseung swallowed hard, trying to keep his cool as he forced a smile. “Yeah… morning,” he mumbled, his voice embarrassingly shaky. He couldn’t meet your eyes, afraid that you’d somehow see right through him and know exactly what had been running through his mind all night.

You tilted your head slightly, noticing his unusual shyness. “Are you okay? You seem… off,” you asked, concern lacing your tone as you walked over to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

Heeseung stiffened under your touch, his pulse quickening as the warmth of your fingers seeped through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “I’m fine, just… didn’t sleep well,” he lied, hoping you wouldn’t press further.

You gave him a soft smile, squeezing his arm lightly before letting go. “Well, breakfast will help, I promise,” you said, gesturing to the pancakes with a grin. “And coffee’s ready too.”

Heeseung finally managed to meet your eyes, the sincerity and care in your gaze making his guilt twist even tighter in his chest. “Y-you didn’t have to, really,” he stammered, moving to pour himself a cup of coffee, hoping the familiar routine would steady his nerves.

“I wanted to,” you replied simply, your voice warm and kind. “You’ve been working so hard lately, I figured you could use a little pampering, seungie,” you added, using the nickname you’d given him that always seemed to melt his defenses a little.

Heeseung took a sip of the coffee, trying to hide his flushed cheeks behind the mug. “You’re too good to me,” he mumbled, the words half muffled by the rim of the cup.

You laughed softly, the sound light and cheerful, easing some of the tension in the room. “You deserve it,” you teased, reaching up to ruffle his hair playfully. “Besides, it’s fun spoiling you a little.”

Heeseung’s heart raced at the casual affection in your touch, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you had any idea what you were doing to him. “Th-thanks,” he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper as he sat down at the small kitchen table.

You joined him a moment later, sliding a plate of perfectly golden pancakes in front of him. “Eat up, Hee,” you said, sitting across from him with your own plate. “And don’t think too much today, okay? Just relax.”

Heeseung nodded, but as he cut into the pancakes, his mind was anything but relaxed. The sight of you in that oversized shirt, the smell of the warm breakfast you’d made just for him, and the way you called him “Hee” so sweetly—all of it was making it impossible to forget the dream.

He desperately needed a distraction. Anything to keep his mind from wandering back to the dream that was now seared into his memory. As you dug into your pancakes, he forced himself to speak, his voice a bit too loud as he asked, “So, um, how are your classes going?”

You looked up at him with a smile, happy to share. “Pretty good, actually! I’ve got this new project for my psychology class that I’m really excited about. We’re studying—”

But Heeseung barely heard a word. His eyes kept drifting to the way your shirt clung to your body, the soft curve of your waist, the smooth skin of your legs peeking out from under the hem. Every time you shifted in your seat, his thoughts betrayed him, flashing back to the way you felt in his dream, warm and soft beneath him. He could almost feel the ghost of your touch, the way you whispered his name in that breathy, needy tone.

“—and so I think I might need to interview a few people on campus,” you continued, oblivious to the turmoil inside him. “It’s going to be a lot of work, but I’m really looking forward to—Hee? Are you even listening?”

He blinked, realizing too late that he’d been caught staring. His cheeks flushed, and he quickly tore his gaze away, focusing on his plate like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Y-yeah, sorry, just… zoned out for a second,” he stammered, trying to play it off, but his voice betrayed him.

You smirked, sensing something was off but not quite sure what. “Uh-huh, sure you did,” you teased, leaning in a bit closer. “What’s up with you this morning? You’re acting kinda weird.”

“N-nothing’s up!” Heeseung blurted out a little too quickly, his pulse spiking as he forced a shaky laugh. “Just tired, that’s all.”

You raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced, but you decided to let it slide. “Okay, if you say so, Seungie,” you said, still smiling but with a hint of curiosity in your eyes. “But you know, if there’s something on your mind, you can talk to me.”

Heeseung nodded quickly, trying to avoid your gaze as he took another bite of pancakes, barely tasting them. “Thanks, I appreciate it,” he muttered, though his thoughts were spiraling again. He could feel your eyes on him, and when he glanced up, the sight of you, all sweet and concerned, sent a jolt of heat through him.

His eyes betrayed him, lingering on your lips, imagining how they had felt against his in the dream. He was falling back into that dangerous territory again, and his body reacted almost instantly. He felt the blood rushing south, his breath hitching as he realized he was getting hard just from looking at you.

Panic set in, and he knew he had to get out of there before you noticed. “I-I gotta go to class,” he stuttered suddenly, pushing his chair back with a scrape. “Don’t want to be late!”

You blinked in surprise at his abruptness. “But, Hee, it’s only 8:30. Your first class isn’t until—”

“I need to, uh, review some notes!” he interrupted, stumbling over his words as he stood up, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Before you could say anything else, he turned on his heel and practically fled the kitchen, his face burning with embarrassment. You watched him retreat to his room, a little confused by his behavior but deciding not to pry. “Okay, then…” you muttered to yourself, shrugging it off as one of those weird morning moods.

As Heeseung shut the door to his room behind him, he leaned against it, exhaling sharply. His heart was pounding, and he cursed under his breath. “What the hell is wrong with me?” he whispered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. But deep down, he knew the answer. It wasn’t just the dream—it was everything about you. And the more he tried to push those thoughts away, the stronger they seemed to become.

The entire morning, he couldn’t keep his thoughts from drifting back to you. No matter how hard he tried to focus on his classes, his mind kept replaying scenes from his dream, the way your body had felt beneath his, the sound of your voice whispering his name in that sexy, sultry voice. He just couldn't you out of his head and that was driving him crazy.

By lunchtime, he was a mess of pent-up frustration and confusion. He had barely touched his breakfast, and the thought of seeing you again made his stomach twist with a mix of guilt and desire. So when Jake texted him, suggesting they grab lunch together, Heeseung jumped at the chance to get out of the apartment, hoping that his friend could help take his mind off things.

They met up at a small café near campus, Jake already waiting at a table with his usual easygoing smile. “Yo, Hee! Over here!” Jake called out, waving him over.

Heeseung managed a weak smile as he sat down, trying to seem normal. But Jake was too observant, and the moment Heeseung dropped into the chair with a heavy sigh, Jake’s smile faltered slightly. “You okay, man? You look like shit.”

“I’m fine,” Heeseung lied, picking up the menu and pretending to scan it. But his hands were a little shaky, and Jake wasn’t buying it.

Jake leaned forward, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Uh-huh, sure you are. What’s going on?”

Heeseung sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s nothing, really,” he insisted, but his voice lacked conviction.

Jake grinned, sensing that his friend was hiding something. “Come on, man. You can’t fool me. I’ve known you too long.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk. “Let me guess… you had one of those dreams, didn’t you?”

Heeseung froze, his eyes widening as he looked up at Jake, who burst into laughter at his reaction. “I knew it! Dude, you’ve got ‘I had a sex dream’ written all over your face!”

Heeseung groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Seriously, Jake? Can you not?”

The younger chuckled, leaning in closer. “Oh, come on! You can tell me! Who was it with? Someone from class? Maybe that cute barista at the coffee shop near your place?”

His face burned with embarrassment. He shook his head, hoping Jake would just drop it, but his friend was relentless.

“No way, man. You’ve gotta tell me now,” Jake teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re not getting out of this one. I won’t judge, promise. Unless it was, like, a teacher or something, then maybe I’ll judge a little.”

Heeseung squirmed in his seat, trying to come up with an excuse, but Jake was too good at this. Finally, he gave up, knowing that Jake wouldn’t stop until he got an answer. “Fine, okay! It was… it was with her,” he muttered, his voice barely audible as he glanced around to make sure no one was listening.

Jake blinked in surprise, his grin faltering as he processed what Heeseung had said. “Wait… with who?”

Heeseung exhaled deeply, his heart racing. “With her… you know, my roommate.”

For a moment, Jake just stared at him, and then a slow, incredulous grin spread across his face. “No way. You had a sex dream about yn?”

Heeseung buried his face in his hands, his embarrassment reaching new heights. “Yeah, okay? I did. And now I can’t even look at her without… i don't know, thinking about it.”

Jake laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Damn, dude. That’s intense. No wonder you’re all messed up this morning.”

Heeseung groaned again, feeling like he wanted to disappear under the table. “I can’t stop thinking about it, Jake. Every time I see her, I just… I remember how it felt, and it’s driving me crazy. I’m either embarrassed as hell or… or horny or something, and I don’t know what to do.”

Jake took a sip of his drink, clearly enjoying Heeseung’s misery a little too much. “Well, you know what they say,” Jake said, leaning back with a casual shrug. “You’ve got to fuck her to get it out of your system.”

Heeseung choked on his water, sputtering as he set the glass down with a clatter. “W-what? Jake, are you serious?”

Jake grinned, shrugging again. “Hey, I’m just saying. Sometimes the best way to stop obsessing over something is to just… do it. Maybe it’s your brain’s way of telling you that you need to, you know, make a move.”

Heeseung’s face was practically glowing red at this point, and he could barely meet Jake’s eyes. “I can’t just… I mean, we’re roommates! And it’s not like she feels the same way.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, giving Heeseung a knowing look. “You sure about that? I’ve seen the way she looks at you, man. She’s always so playful with you, always teasing. Maybe she’s just waiting for you to make the first move.”

Heeseung shook his head, his mind spinning. “I don’t know, man. It’s just… it’s complicated. And I don’t want to mess things up between us.”

Jake nodded, his expression softening a bit. “I get it. But you can’t keep torturing yourself like this. If you really can’t handle it, maybe you need to talk to her. Or, you know, find a way to cool off before you drive yourself completely insane.”

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah… maybe you’re right,” he admitted, though the thought of actually doing anything about it made him nervous as hell.

Jake chuckled, giving him a pat on the back. “Whatever you do, just remember I’m here to help, even if it’s just to give you shit about it later.”

Heeseung managed a small smile, grateful for Jake’s support despite the teasing. But as they finished their lunch, he couldn’t shake the lingering tension inside him, knowing that sooner or later, he’d have to face the feelings he was trying so hard to ignore.

The day wore on and he just couldn’t get Jake’s advice out of his head. The idea of just taking the plunge, of letting himself have what he so desperately wanted, seemed almost logical in his mind, twisted as it was with frustration and desire. Maybe, just maybe, if he gave in and finally fuck you, he could finally get you out of his system and things would go back to normal. But every time he even thought about it, an overwhelming sense of dread and guilt would wash over him.

The next few days were torture. Every time Heeseung saw you, you were just so effortlessly hot and beautiful, it made his resolve crumble. Like when you walked around the apartment in those tiny shorts and a tank top that hugged your curves perfectly, or when you’d smile at him, that playful, teasing glint in your eyes that drove him crazy. He couldn’t bring himself to make a move, not when the thought of losing your friendship or making things awkward between you weighed heavily on him.

So, instead of facing his feelings, Heeseung did what he thought was the next best thing—he avoided you like the plague.

Whenever he heard you coming down the hallway, he’d quickly retreat to his room, shutting the door quietly behind him. If you were in the kitchen, he’d grab a snack later, waiting until you left. If you sat on the couch to watch TV, he’d suddenly remember something he had to do in his room. It was ridiculous, and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it.

You, of course, noticed almost immediately. The first time you called out to him as you walked into the living room, he barely acknowledged you, muttering a quick “hey” before disappearing into his room. You frowned, staring after him with confusion etched on your face.

At first, you thought maybe he was just busy with schoolwork, but when it happened again and again, you started to worry. Heeseung wasn’t the type to just ignore you. You two had always been close, laughing and joking around, but now it felt like there was a wall between you that hadn’t been there before.

One evening, after another day of dodging you, you finally cornered him. Heeseung had just come out of the bathroom, hair still damp from his shower, when you caught him in the hallway.

“Hee, what’s going on with you?” you asked, your tone a mix of concern and frustration.

Heeseung froze, his hand still on the doorknob of his bedroom. “W-what do you mean?” he stammered, not daring to look at you.

“You know exactly what I mean,” you pressed, crossing your arms as you took a step closer. “You’ve been avoiding me for days now. Did I do something to upset you?”

He finally looked at you then, and the sight of your worried expression made his heart ache. “No, you didn’t do anything,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s not you, it’s… it’s me.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “That’s the oldest excuse in the fucking book, Heeseung. Seriously, what’s going on? We used to hang out all the time, and now it’s like you can’t stand to be around me or something.”

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to come up with something, anything, to say that would make sense. "Look, can we talk about it later? I'm really tired right now," he started making his way to the kitchen.

“No, don't you run away from me, Lee Heeseung,” you called after him, your voice tinged with anger as you followed him into the kitchen. “I’m done with the vague answers and the weird behavior. I want to know what’s really going on!”

Heeseung stopped in his tracks, his hand gripping the counter's edge as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “I told you, it’s nothing; I'm just tired,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes.

“Tired? Seriously? That’s all you’ve got?” You stepped closer, your frustration boiling over. “You’ve been avoiding me for days, acting like I’m some kind of stranger, and now you’re telling me it’s ‘nothing’? What the fuck?”

Heeseung turned around to face you, his jaw clenched as he tried to find the right words, but they kept slipping away. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I just… I can’t…,” he trailed off, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“You can’t what?” you pressed, your patience running thin. “What’s so horrible that you can’t even look me in the eyes anymore?”

Heeseung’s frustration finally reached its breaking point. The tension, the guilt, the overwhelming desire—it all came crashing down at once. “I’ve been avoiding you because every single time I lay my fucking eyes on you, I just want to fuck your brains out!” he snapped, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

The room fell into a heavy silence. Your eyes widened in shock, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to process what he had just said. Heeseung immediately regretted the outburst, the rawness of his confession hanging in the air like a storm cloud. He sighed deeply, cursing under his breath as he ran both hands through his hair, looking anywhere but at you.

“Shit… I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” he muttered, his voice filled with a mixture of frustration and regret. “It’s just… it’s been driving me crazy. I had this dream, and it was so real, and ever since then, I can’t stop thinking about you like that.”

You finally found your voice, though it was tinged with disbelief. “You’ve been avoiding me, acting like I don’t exist, just because you had a sex dream about me?”

Heeseung nodded, his shoulders slumping as he braced himself for whatever you might say next. “Yeah… I know it sounds messed up, but it’s true. And every time I see you, it just makes it worse. I didn’t want to make things weird between us, but I ended up doing exactly that.”

You let out a laugh, but it was devoid of humor, more of an expression of sheer incredulity. “So let me get this straight,” you said slowly, needing to confirm you weren’t misunderstanding. “You’ve been avoiding me, treating me like I’ve got the plague, all because you want to fuck me?”

Heeseung winced at your bluntness, but he couldn’t deny it. “Yeah… I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair to you. I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

You shook your head, your emotions a chaotic mix of anger, frustration, and something else that you hadn’t fully processed yet. “You know, hee, you could’ve just asked,” you said, your voice carrying a hint of sarcasm.

Heeseung looked up at you, shocked, as if he hadn’t heard you correctly. “Wait, what?”

“You could’ve just asked me,” you repeated, crossing your arms and looking him dead in the eye. “And I wouldn’t have said no.”

For a moment, Heeseung just stared at you, his mind struggling to comprehend what you were saying. “You’re kidding… right?”

“No, I’m not,” you replied, your tone steady and serious. “You’ve been making things weird all by yourself when you didn’t have to. If you’d just been upfront with me instead of avoiding me, we could’ve dealt with this a lot sooner.”

Heeseung was at a loss for words. The idea that you might actually want him too had never seriously crossed his mind, not like this. “I… I didn’t think…” he started, then trailed off, still trying to wrap his head around it.

You sighed, a mix of exasperation and amusement coloring your expression. “Well, now you know. So what are you going to do about it?”

Heeseung swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he realized the door you’d just opened for him. The air between you was thick with tension, but this time it wasn’t just from frustration or anger. It was something more, something that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

He took a tentative step closer, his eyes locked on yours. “Are you sure?” he asked softly, needing to know that you were serious.

You nodded, your gaze steady and unwavering. “I’m sure, seungie. But only if you’re ready to stop running away and actually talk to me about what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Heeseung’s breath hitched, his thoughts racing as he looked at you, really looked at you. The playful, teasing side of you, the warmth and care you always showed him, the way you were looking at him now—it all made his desire for you flare even hotter.

“I’m done running,” he said quietly, but with conviction. “But… can we take this slow? I don’t want to screw things up.”

You smiled softly, the tension easing just a little. “Slow is good,” you agreed, stepping closer until you were just inches apart. “But maybe, just this once, we can forget about slow?”

Heeseung’s pulse quickened, and with a shaky breath, he closed the remaining distance between you, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with yearning.

“Then stop fucking talking and show me,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his as you finally closed the gap, giving in to the moment that had been building between you for far too long.

The moment your lips met, it was as if a dam had burst, releasing all the tension that had been building between you two for days. Heeseung wasted no time, his hands immediately finding your waist and pulling you flush against him. The warmth of his body against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and you gasped into the kiss, giving him the perfect opportunity to deepen it.

He took control, his lips moving over yours with a hunger that left you breathless. He tilted his head slightly, angling the kiss just right as his tongue slipped past your lips, exploring your mouth with a fervor that made your knees weak. You moaned softly, your hands sliding up to his shoulders, clinging to him as he backed you up against the kitchen counter.

The edge of the counter dug into your back, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the way Heeseung was kissing you, his lips demanding, yet so incredibly soft against yours. He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur against your lips, “You taste so fucking good,” before diving back in, his hands gripping your hips tighter as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

You responded eagerly, matching his intensity as you kissed him back, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Heeseung pressed his body against yours, pinning you against the counter, the heat between you growing with every second. His hands roamed up your sides, brushing over your ribs before settling on your waist again, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your skin.

“Fuck, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” Heeseung muttered, his voice rough with desire as he broke the kiss for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath.

“I think I have some idea,” you whispered back, your voice just as breathless as you stared up at him, your eyes half-lidded with want.

Heeseung’s eyes darkened at your words, and with a low growl, he claimed your lips again, his kiss more demanding this time. He pressed you harder against the counter, his hands sliding down to grip the backs of your thighs, lifting you slightly so you were perched on the edge. The movement made you gasp, and Heeseung took the opportunity to kiss down your jawline, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

You tilted your head back, giving him more access as he nipped at the sensitive skin just below your ear, his breath hot against your neck. “Hee…” you moaned softly, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

Heeseung groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your skin as he kissed his way back up to your lips. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, but no less intense. He took his time, savoring the feel of your lips against his, his tongue teasing yours in a way that made your heart race.

You could feel the hard edge of the counter digging into your thighs, but it only added to the intensity of the moment. Heeseung’s hands were everywhere, exploring your body with a mixture of reverence and desperation, as if he was trying to commit every inch of you to memory. When his hands found their way under your shirt, brushing against your bare skin, you gasped, arching into his touch, a soft moan escaping from your lips.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice thick and low. "All shy and putty in my hands, and I haven't even touched you." You shivered at his words, your hands clutching at his shirt as you tried to steady yourself. He kissed his way back to your ear, biting softly your earlobe. "What's the matter, baby? I thought you were the confident one," he smirked, his lips brushing against your ear.

You wanted to answer, but before you could, his lips found your sweet spot just below your ear, and a loud moan escaped from your lips. You could feel him smirk against your skin as he started nibbling and sucking that spot. You closed your eyes, your head tilting to the side to give him all the room he wanted to do whatever he wanted. "God, you're so sensitive," he murmured against your neck, his breath hot and rigged.

You whimpered, arching your back to press closer to him. "Hee, please..."

He chuckled softly, his fingers brushing lightly over your inner thighs, teasing you. "Please, what, baby?" Use your words."

You shivered at the pet name, your teeth capturing your lower lip to avoid any more moans slipping from your mouth. "Please, touch me," your voice came out more whiny than you intended, but at that point, you didn't even care.

His eyes darkened, and he captured your lips once again in a hard kiss. "Good girl," he murmured against your mouth, his hands slipping your shirt before finally pulling it over your head, revealing your bare chest to him. His hands immediately flew to your tits, caressing your nipples, rolling them between his fingers. "You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, his lips trailing down your jawline. "So perfect for me."

Gathering your courage, you reached out, tugging at the hem of his shirt. He raised his arms, allowing you to pull it over his head and discard it on the floor. Your hands roamed over his toned torso, feeling the hard muscles beneath his skin. You marveled at the contrast of his strength and the gentle way he had been touching you moments before.

Heeseung's breath hitched as your fingers traced the lines of his abs, but he quickly regained his composure, his eyes locking onto yours with a predatory gleam. "Enjoying yourself?" he teased, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, unable to find your voice, your hands still exploring his body. Heeseung smirked, leaning in to capture your lips in another searing kiss. As he kissed you, one of his hands slipped between your legs, finding your core outside of your shorts. He hissed, finding you already wet and ready for him.

"You're so wet for me," he murmured against your lips, his fingers brushing over your sensitive folds. "I barely have to touch you, and you're already this fucking needy."

You whimpered, your hips bucking involuntarily as he teased you. "Heeseung, please," you begged, your voice trembling with need.

He finally took your shorts and panties off, his fingers finding your bare cunt. His index parted your folds, his eyes fixed on your face to catch every little reaction. Then, without a word, he slipped two fingers inside you, his thumb finding your clit. He started moving them roughly, setting a relentless pace as you gasped for air.

"Is that what you wanted, baby?" he asked, his voice a low growl as the wet sound of your pussy filled the kitchen.

"Fuck, yes, hee, just like that," you moaned, your hands gripping the edge of the counter for support.

His fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. Your brain quickly turned to mush, and you found it increasingly difficult to form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences. Every time you tried to speak, it came out as a garbled moan.

"Fuck, look at you," Heeseung mocked gently, his eyes filled with a mix of adoration and amusement. "You're already a mess, and I'm just using my fingers. What are you going to do when I'll have my cock inside you, mmh?" You whined in response, your hole sucking him in even harder as you clenched around him. He smirked at that, his lips dropping beside your ear as he whispered. "You like the idea of my cock stretching your little hole, yeah?"

You let out a loud moan, your eyes closing shut as you threw your head back. Your body started to shake as he continued to work you over with his fingers. "You gonna cum for me, baby?" he whispered, his thumb circling your clit with increased pressure.

You nodded, not trusting your voice at that moment. And with a final rough thrust of his fingers, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cried out his name, your body convulsing with pleasure as he continued to move his fingers inside you, drawing out every last bit of your release.

Heeseung smirked, watching you come undone beneath him. "So beautiful," he murmured, finally slowing his movements. "I love seeing you like this."

He looked at you, eyes filled with an insatiable hunger as he licked his fingers clean. You were still reeling from your orgasm, your body trembling with aftershocks when he suddenly knelt down in front of you, his hands gently parting your thighs.

"Hee, what are you—" you began, but he silenced you with a heated look.

"I need to taste you," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "I need to hear those beautiful little sounds you make, you can do that for me, right?."

Before you could respond, Heeseung's mouth was on you, his tongue parting your folds and delving into your sensitive cunt. You gasped, your hands flying to his hair as a surge of pleasure shot through you. His tongue moved with a skilled precision, flicking over your clit before dipping back down to slurp all your juices.

"Oh my god, Hee," you moaned, your head falling back as you surrendered to the sensations.

He groaned against you, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine. He was like a starved man, devouring you with an intensity that left you breathless. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he licked and sucked, his tongue exploring every inch of you. You'd never had someone eat you out like this before, so focused, so determined to bring you pleasure. Heeseung's mouth was relentless, his tongue circling your clit before sucking it gently, making you cry out in ecstasy.

"You're so sweet," he murmured between licks, his voice filled with admiration. "So perfect."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you rode the waves of pleasure he was giving you. "Fuck, please don't stop," you begged, your voice a mix of desperation and bliss.

Heeseung's response was a deep, guttural moan, his tongue moving faster, more insistently. He was already addicted to your taste, the way your body responded to his every touch. Your moans and whimpers were music to his ears, driving him to push you further, to see just how much pleasure he could give you.

Heeseung's hands moved from your thighs to your hips, lifting you slightly to get a better angle. His tongue plunged deeper, his nose brushing against your clit, sending electric shocks through your entire body.

"Oh, God, hee!" you cried out, your back arching off the counter as you felt another orgasm building rapidly. "I'm so-so close."

Heeseung groaned again, his mouth working more fervently, his tongue lashing against your most sensitive spots. "Come for me, baby," he murmured against you, his voice a low, sultry command. "I want to taste you when you come."

That was all it took. With a final, desperate cry, you came undone, your body shuddering violently as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Heeseung didn't stop, his mouth continuing to work you through your orgasm, drinking in every moan, every whimper.

You were a quivering mess, your mind blank with ecstasy as Heeseung finally pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and filled with satisfaction. He stood up, his hands firmly gripping your hips, and you could see the raw need in his gaze. He tugged at his sweatpants and boxers, hastily pushing them down in one go, and your breath hitched when you saw him. He was big, and your mouth watered at the sight of him.

"Fuck," you whispered, eyes wide with a mix of desire and apprehension.

He noticed your reaction, a smirk playing on his lips. "Like what you see?" he teased, his confidence bolstered by your response.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "You're... you're so big, Hee."

Heeseung's smirk widened, and he leaned in to kiss you deeply, his hands trailing down to position himself at your entrance. "Don't worry, baby. I'll make it fit," he murmured against your lips, his voice dripping with promise.

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "Are you sure? I don't know if..."

Heeseung's hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips. "I'm sure," he said softly, his eyes locking with yours. "I'll go slow at first. Just tell me if it hurts, okay?"

You nodded, your heart racing as he began to push inside you. The initial stretch was intense, and you gasped, your hands clutching his shoulders. Heeseung moved slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to his size.

"You're doing so well," he whispered, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Just relax for me, baby."

You took a deep breath, willing your body to relax as he continued to slide into you. The sensation was overwhelming, but the look of pure desire and care in his eyes made you feel safe. Finally, he was fully seated inside you, and he paused, giving you a moment to adjust.

"God, you feel so good," he groaned, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight."

You whimpered, your body clinging to him, feeling so full. "You're so big, seungie."

He kissed you softly, his hands caressing your sides. "Just tell me when you're ready, baby."

After a few moments, the initial discomfort began to fade, replaced by a deep, aching need. "I'm ready," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Heeseung's eyes darkened, and he pulled back slightly before thrusting into you with a powerful, rough stroke. You cried out, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. "F-fuck," you moaned, the intensity of his movements sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

He set a brutal pace, his hips pounding into yours. "You like that?" he growled in your ear, his voice rough and filled with desire. "You like being fucked like this?"

"Yes, f-fuck," you gasped, your mind going blank with pleasure. "So good. So fucking good."

Heeseung's lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice possessive. "Only mine. Say it."

"Only yours," you echoed, your voice barely more than a whimper.

"Good girl," he praised, his hands gripping your hips harder as he pounded into you. "You're taking me so well."

You could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, and you felt yourself spiraling out of control. "Heeseung, I... I can't..."

Heeseung's hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. "Come for me, baby," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

With a final, desperate cry, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you trembling and gasping for breath. Heeseung followed soon after, his own release hitting him hard as he buried himself deep inside you, groaning your name.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Heeseung held you close, his forehead resting against yours. "That was fucking incredible," he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

You smiled weakly, still catching your breath.Heeseung chuckled softly, his hands gently caressing your sides. "We should definitely do this more often."

You laughed, your heart swelling with affection for him. "I think I'd like that."

[1lovehanni]

Escape the Spotlight (Hanni of Newjeans)

Hanni x Male Reader (Y/N) Word Count: 1841 words Summary: Y/N fucks Hanni after her birthday, oh also this is canon so sum issues about them rn.

The soft hum of the city filtered through the dorm’s open window, carried by the cool evening breeze. Hanni had left it cracked just enough for the noise to feel distant, like a reminder of the world outside, one she was eager to escape from tonight. She leaned against the desk in her small, cozy dorm, her phone loosely grasped in her hand as she reread the last message she sent.

“Hey, come over. I need a distraction.”

Simple, direct, and maybe a little too forward, but she was tired of holding back. Her birthday was supposed to be a time to celebrate, but all it had been was a whirlwind of interviews, scheduled social media posts, and the pressures that came with being under the spotlight as an idol. For once, she wanted to forget about the cameras and scripts and just be herself.

The only person who could assist her in doing that was Y/N.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, but the minutes dragged as she waited. Her heart pounded in her chest, anticipation creeping up her spine. It wasn’t often that she invited someone into her private space like this, but Y/N was different. There was something about him that made her feel... safe. She didn’t need to put up her walls or play a part when he was around.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of her thoughts. His message was brief:

“On my way. Be there soon.”

Hanni exhaled, a little smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She pushed herself away from the desk, pacing a bit to calm her nerves. She had no idea what tonight would lead to, but she knew she wanted it to be far from the reality she lived in every day. No cameras, no judgment, just her and Y/N.

As she moved around the room, she glanced at herself in the small mirror hanging on the wall. Her reflection showed a different side of her—Hanni Pham, the idol, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she was just Hanni, in a simple oversized hoodie and comfortable shorts, her dark hair tied up messily. She was free from the usual layers of makeup and the high-maintenance outfits, and for once, she liked it. It was the real her. She wished more people would see, but they didn’t.

She rubbed her arms absentmindedly, feeling the familiar anxiety settle in. Being an idol wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. The expectations, the scrutiny, the never-ending demand to be perfect—it was exhausting. And as much as she loved her fans, sometimes she just needed a break.

Tonight, she hoped Y/N would be that break.

The knock on the door startled her from her thoughts. She moved quickly, her pulse quickening. Pulling the door open, she was met with the sight of Y/N standing there, looking a bit out of breath but with that familiar smile that always made her feel at ease.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice warm and slightly teasing. “Didn’t keep you waiting too long, did I? ”

Hanni shook her head, stepping aside to let him in. “No, you’re just in time.”

The door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment, there was an awkward pause as they stood there. The tension between them was subtle but palpable. They’d known each other for a while, but tonight felt different. Something was hanging in the air, something unspoken, and neither of them seemed ready to address it—at least not yet.

Y/N took in the room, noticing the faint scent of lavender that lingered, the warm glow of the dim light she’d set up, and the slight mess that hinted at her life outside of the polished image people saw on stage. It was intimate and personal.

“You look... comfortable,” he remarked, his eyes tracing over her figure, not in a way that made her self-conscious but in a way that made her feel seen. Really seen.

She smiled, playing with the hem of her hoodie. “It’s my birthday. I wanted to be comfortable.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And you decided to spend it... with me? ”

She shrugged, her voice softening. “I didn’t want to spend it alone.”

That admission hung in the air, and Y/N seemed to understand. Without saying a word, he stepped closer, his presence immediately grounding her. He wasn’t there to judge or to expect anything from her. He was just... there. And that was what she needed most.

They moved to sit on the floor, leaning against the foot of her bed. The conversation flowed easily at first—catching up, joking around, talking about things that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. But as the minutes passed, Hanni found herself opening up more, telling him about the things she didn’t usually share with others.

“It’s been hard,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “The whole idol thing... it’s not as glamorous as people think.”

Y/N listened intently, his gaze never leaving her face. He nodded, not interrupting, just letting her speak.

“I just... I want to be myself, you know? ”She laughed bitterly. “But sometimes, I don’t even know who that is anymore.”

There was a silence, heavy but not uncomfortable. Y/N reached out, gently taking her hand in his. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a warmth through her that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You’re Hanni,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “That’s enough.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. It was such a simple statement, but it meant everything to her at that moment. She looked at him, her eyes searching his face, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel the need to put on a mask. She could just be... her.

Without thinking, she leaned forward, her lips brushing against his in a tentative kiss. It was soft, almost hesitant, as if she were testing the waters. But when Y/N kissed her back, his hand coming up to cup her cheek, something inside her clicked.

This was what she’d been missing. This connection, this intimacy. The world outside didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was him and the way he made her feel like she was enough, just as she was.

The kiss deepened, growing more urgent as the tension between them finally broke. Hanni’s hands slid up his chest, pulling him closer as their breaths mingled, the room around them fading into the background. All of her worries, her stress, her insecurities—they melted away in his embrace.

As they pulled apart, breathless, Hanni rested her forehead against his, her fingers still tangled in his shirt. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude. “For being here.”

Y/N smiled, his hand resting on her waist, grounding her. “Always." Y/N removes his shirt with a quick motion, leaving Hanni with a desired look. Hanni instantly kisses Y/N with more passion, as if she were dehydrated for lust. Both of them moan as their mouths explore each other. After an intense makeover, Hanni grabbed her shorts and tossed them to the side. Y/N then put his hands over her thighs; Hanni’s already wet from the sloppy kisses they had. Y/N rubbed his hands on her pants, making circles on Hanni’s clitoral area. Instinctively Hanni moans under his mouth. “Ugh, yes, make me cum Y/N.Hannah is reaching her limit; she holds on with the kiss and moans louder and louder with every hand movement of Y/N. “I am going to cum, Y/N, I am going to cu... ughh.” She reached her orgasm, slowly fading to Y/N's body as she loses her energy. They looked at each other with a smile. “I want you on me, Y/N.” Without wasting any time, Y/N removed his pants, greeting Hanni with a bulge in his boxers. Hanni’s face was flustered by the view. She was smiling and grinning. “Wow.” leaves from her mouth. Instantly she moves onto his boxers and removes slowly while looking at Y/N eyes. Y/N cock flew from his boxer and hit Hanni’s face. Both laughed, but then Hanni swallowed the rod in her face. “Oh Hanni.”

She bobbed her head up and down, swallowing inch by inch of Y/N cock. She is making slurping sounds, moaning while taking what’s her. She continued the blowjob, occasionally changing the pace. “I am getting close.” When she hears this, she increases the pace like she's racing a deadline. She speeds her bobbing, galloping every inch of Y/N cock, and after a minute Y/N shoots his hot semen in her mouth. She swallows all of his cum, even licking the ones that overflow from her mouth. Hanni then stands over Y/N, removing her hoodie, showing her cute boobs to him, and playing with her nipples—that’s already hard.

Hanni slowly lowers her body to Y/N, aligning her opening to him. She kept eye contact with him, having conversations with their eyes and being playful with it. His cock entered the heavens when Hanni finally let him come in, breaking the silence with a moan from both of them. She adjusted as the tip was entering. It is not their first time, yet she's still tight as ever. Y/N groaned from the feeling of his cock entering Hanni’s pussy. As she lowered her body more, it also adjusted with Y/N's size; after all,  7 inches isn’t that easy to penetrate.

Hanni gives up and lowers her entire body to him, leaving her to lose control of her body and slams to Y/N, but luckily he catches her and at the same time kisses her on the lips, creating another makeup session. She slowly moves her hips and starts her ride. “Oh, god, your cock feels so good on me,” she blurts from her mouth.

Just like the blowjob, she also increases her pace slowly. She truly wants to make it all the time and to experience another world far from her idol image. They parted lips as the pace started getting faster. Hanni then let Y/N do more of the work; he's now the one driving the pace as he fucks her hard, leaving Hanni with moans and pleasure.

“Fuck!! ,” she screamed as she  coughed. Y/N followed with his seed shooting inside her. ‘Oh sh*t, I cummed inside fuck my bad,” he said to her.

Oh yes, cum inside me. I am on pills, you dumbo.” With her approving of him to cum inside of her. Y/N carried Hanni and changed into a dogstyle position and kept fucking her.

This goes throughout the night; time passes, lives change, and a new world is ahead.

Hanni kisses Y/N, “Thanks for coming; I had fun.” “Me, too. I am always here when you need me. Goodnight.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Thanks for reading!!

A/N: Hanni smut?, Hanni smut, Hanni smut!, HANNI SMUT!??!!!

[strawbeerossi]

Baby Fever

Pairing: Wife!Reader x Husband!Spencer

Description: After seeing Henry and Spencer interact after the little boy wears an adorable Halloween costume, you know what you want from your husband more than anything else

Content/Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy and wanting to be pregnant, kissing, unprotective sex, penetrative sex, creampie, some cute banter.

Word Count: 2K

Kinktober Day Ten: Breeding

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

It was currently Halloween, the team getting back from the case just a few short hours ago. You and Spencer had plans to go get something for dinner and then make your way home for a night filled with spooky movies and a bowl filled with candy that neither of you needed. Everyone was currently wrapping up what little bit that needed to be done when JJ was coming back into the bullpen, a wide smile on her face. “Attention everybody. As I’m sure most of you were aware, Henry was a little nervous about going trick or treating this year.” She’d clasped her hands together with a smile as the team was looking between each other in curiosity. “But he’s decided to go anyway.” She’d finished, David smiling. “Great. What changed his mind?”

“The BAU did. I told him that he should go out on Halloween and try to figure out which monsters are real and which ones are not.” She mused. “So he wants to be a profiler.” Derek smiled, hands in his pockets while JJ put her hand up. “Ah. He wants to be his favorite profiler.” She corrected while everyone was glancing at the open door of the bullpen when Penelope was bringing in a mini Spencer.

Henry’s costume idea was precious, you had to admit it. The whole idea of him being a profiler would be fun for him, however being a little Spencer?! You never thought you needed to see it this badly until you did. “Woah! Yeah! Oh wow, You look great, Henry!” Spencer was shooting up from his spot with a wide smile from excitement, the way his eyes had a little sparkle in them was enough to make you start to wonder.

Sure, you’d talked about children with your husband before, the both of you wanting a sweet little family in a sweet little suburb. However you never really put too much thought into it before now. Seeing Spencer excitedly kneel down to clip his nametag to Henry’s shirt and watching him get teary eyed in his admiration for his god son, this was all you needed to know that you were for sure ready for the next step.

After seeing the little boy off, the team was wrapping up their activities before everyone was making their way out of the building, leaving you and Spencer to go pick up something for dinner then you two decided on going home. Upon making it, you were in the kitchen of your shared apartment while putting the takeout meals on plates, Spencer trying to find some sort of Halloween movie to put on for your little tradition of festivities to begin. 

“Hey, Spencer.” You break the silence while carrying the plates to place them on the coffee table perched in front of the couch with other numerous treats. “I was thinking.. We wanted to wait a couple years for kids and.. We have been married for three years, child free.” You brought it up the only way you know how. “I guess what I’m saying is, I think we should start trying! I mean, you and Henry were so sweet today and it really got me thinking about more. What we don’t have yet.” 

Spencer had turned his attention towards you, a soft smile on his face as he let you initiate conversation. However as soon as you were mentioning kids, it was like his eyes lit up, body shooting up straighter. “You really wanna start trying? I’ve been wanting to since the day we got married but I know we agreed to wait.” He laughed a bit while offering a wide smile. “I’d love to have a baby with you, honey. More than anything else.”

His excitement filled you with relief, a smile matching his as you were letting your arms wrap around his shoulders. “Let's do it then! I mean, we are both financially stable and we are secure together. Let's bring a little Reid into the world.” You gushed. You were both cut off by the sound of Spencer’s stomach rumbling though, making the both of you giggle. “Maybe after dinner.” He teased, pressing a few soft kisses against your lips. 

You didn’t think you’ve ever gone through dinner so quickly in your life, the both of you doing good to clean up your dishes before Spencer was already attacking you in his embrace in  the kitchen, the both of you sharing kisses while standing in place. “Bed please.” You murmured while smiling as he obliged, grabbing your hand with a smile as he quickly led you off to your shared bedroom. 

There was without a missed beat, Spencer was easily lifting you in his arms before pressing his lips against yours, one that radiated pure love and care, his hands resting under your thighs as you were carried to the king size bed. Once on your back, you were bringing your hands to cup his cheeks while you were both lying in bed, tangled in one another’s embrace. “I love you so much.” His words were like sweet honey. 

“I love you so much.” The both of you parted briefly, Spencer moving to rest his hands on your hips, fingertips slipping slowly up your blouse as he was gently pushing it up your frame. His lips were pressing the sweetest of kisses against your warm skin, the both of you working together as you tugged the garment over your head.

His onslaught of pressing kisses against your skin trailing to your chest, his hands reaching behind you to remove your bra with the utmost care. His tongue was licking over your hardened nipple, a soft breath falling from your lips as you let your hands tangle in his hair. 

Spencer liked to take his time with you, hardly ever having days where he needed to get it over and done with. He preferred to savor the moment, to enjoy the intimacy that came with the act. As his lips were wrapping around the nub, he was taking his time to suck and flick his tongue, satisfied with the noises leaving your lips. After moving to switch breasts, his free hand was sliding down your stomach. You could feel all the heat rush between your legs as you knew exactly what was coming next. His hand had slipped past your pants and the waistband of your panties, hand cupping your wet pussy as he slowly lifted his head from your chest. “My pretty girl.” He whispered, your hands gently pulling him down to connect your lips while his hand was cupping your clothed cunt, feeling the heat of your arousal. 

He loved having this effect on you, the way that he could satisfy you and get you revved up by the smallest of touches. His eidetic memory worked out really well in that case, he memorized every curve and dip of your body, every touch that made you crave him more. 

His fingertip was teasing your slit, spreading around the slick before finding your clit. You knew that he wanted to take his time and play the long game but if you were honest, you were so desperate. 

“Please, Spencer..” You breathed while watching as he offered a soft smile. “You really wanna skip the foreplay?” He’d asked. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t bummed, wanting nothing more than to taste you, to drink up every ounce of sweetness that you had to offer him. 

“As much as I love when you take your time and cherish me, I just need you now.” If you were honest, you were just excited for the aspect to feel that familiar closeness. Spencer didn’t argue in the slightest, hand gently moving from your panties before he was sitting up slightly to tug your pants and underwear down in one swift movement, a smile on his face as he was stripping you bare for him. No matter how many times he’s seen you, it was like he’d never seen you before. His cheeks were red as he brought his hands to gently rub your hips. 

After a few moments of his eyes taking in the beauty in front of him, he was moving to stand so he could get himself undressed, getting himself naked while clumsily nearly falling on the bed when it came to his pants and boxers. It was silly, like you two were teenagers who finally had an opening to fool around without someone there to stop you both. 

His hands were gently taking a hold of your hips, tugging you down to the edge of the bed as he offered a smile. You both had been safe enough before, always having some sort of contraception at the ready. After your body had a bad reaction to the birth control you were on, he’d offered to wear condoms, not wanting to opt for a vasectomy due to his want for children. They could be reversed but he didn’t want to get one just to reverse it later.

“Ready?”

“Let’s make a baby.” 

Those words sent blood straight to Spencer’s cock. The idea of you being pregnant with your shared child, a symbol of your love and affection for each other, was a lot to take in. It was like his animalistic urges had started to break through the cracks. Licking the palm of his hand, the male was pumping his throbbing shaft to prepare himself before positioning himself at your leaking hole. 

Leaning down to press his lips to yours, it wasn’t long until his cock was disappearing inside of your soaked cunt, the both of you moaning against one another’s lips. Your hands came up to hold tight to his shoulders, pulling from the kiss slowly as you let your head fall back against the bed below you. 

Spencer’s hips rocked slowly at first, relishing in your little gasps and whines from the painfully slow pace. “You look so beautiful, always take me so well.” He breathed, hands rubbing your hips, just wanting to touch you more than he already was. The idea of your stomach swollen with his baby was just too much to bear, making his hips snap a little rougher against yours, which managed to catch you by surprise but you gripped his upper arms with a loud moan, head tilting back as the tip of his cock was hitting the spongey button deep inside of you. 

“You’re gonna look so sexy with my child inside of you. Gonna show the whole world that you are mine, that you are devoted to me.” The words were enough to elicit a moan besides his thrusts. As you could feel the familiar knot tightening in your stomach, you were gently tugging your husband down to have your chests pressed flush against one anothers. Now you weren’t usually the type to dirty talk but judging by how Spencer seemed to be turned on so much more when it comes to thinking of you being pregnant. 

“Fuck, fill me with your cum.” You panted, the words making his cock twitch inside of you as he was letting out an animalistic groan. “Want me to fill you up? Gonna get my pretty girl pregnant.” His tone was huskier now, a sign he was definitely just as close as you were.

Your pussy was convulsing around his thick cock, your head falling back as your mouth was agape. “I’m gonna cum.” You blubbered out, a whine leaving your lips as you could feel his thumb making contact with your throbbing, desperate clit. “Cum for me, baby. Want you to make a mess.” He breathed, giving a few more thrusts before both of you had managed to hit your peaks, the ropes of cum decorating your inner walls while Spencer’s body was collapsing on top of you. It wasn’t enough to crush you, one arm holding him up. 

“I’m just gonna.. Stay here for a minute..” He panted while you laughed breathlessly, your fingers gently threading through his hair as you closed your eyes.

“You know, it’s actually very rare to become pregnant from the first time having sex.” He began as he was pushing himself up slightly, his hair stuck to his sticky forehead. “I know.. You know, I feel like you’re gonna have to fuck me again.” You breathed, giggling at his reaction.

“We should’ve tried for a baby sooner.”

[pixxiies]

tense

pairing ;; matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings ;; oral (fem receiving), fingering, praise, use of y/n, fluffy beginning and ending, softdom!matt, pet names (sweetheart n princess, etc), no actual p in v, lowercase intended !!

word count ;; 1.1k

a/n ;; this was based off a request!! had lots of fun writing this:) also sorry if this is bad im ovulating and im a little bit high

yk the basics .. pink is u , blue is matt !!

. . .

your pov

i stepped into my boyfriend’s house after a long shift at work. “hey chris.” i sigh, putting my bag down on the island. “hey y/n, matt wanted me to tell you that he was gonna be streaming when you got back.” the brunette boy spoke from the couch, sipping on a can of pepsi.

i nodded before making my way down the hall to matt’s room. i knocked softly on the door and a small “come in” was heard from inside. i slowly walk into the room with a light smile on my face. “alright guys ima go on mute real quick.” matt spoke into his mic, muting it then getting out of his seat.

“hey baby, how was work?” he asked me, bringing me into a hug. i let out a small mumble in reply as my arms wrapped around his neck. "could be better, my legs hurt so bad from running around all day. but i got a $100 tip from this guy since he said my ass was fat" i laugh, letting go of matt so i could take off my hooters uniform. matt was literally forgetting that he had been streaming the entire time.

“could you get me a shirt baby?” i ask matt, struggling to take off the tight white long sleeve uniform top. he nodded, tossing me one of his shirts that i missed terribly. we laughed about it quietly as i took off the extremely revealing shorts. i put on the pink hershey bear shirt, then body flopping down on his silk sheets. “im gonna lay down, my legs hurt so bad.” i pointed out as my body laid comfortably in his bed.

matt hummed, looking at his pc. he quickly walked over and sat down in his gaming chair. “hey guys, sorry ima have to end the stream a bit earlier. thanks for watching love you guys.” matt spoke into his mic after he unmuted. he clicked the red ‘end’ button before he stood up. “matt you didn’t have to end it” i smile, opening my arms for him. “eh its whatever, i was already streaming for a few hours so its okay.” he reassured as he laid down next to me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

he kissed my temple softly, rubbing my lower back gently. “tell me about your day y/n/n.” he whispered into my skin. i let out a small sigh. “well, it was a bit stressful. a lot of guys asked for my number, got a lot of tips since i had good tits and ass…” i trail off, playing with matt’s hair. “i also fell, so that’s probably why my legs hurt.” i pout. he hummed quietly, figuring something that could help me. “i can give you a massage if you’d like.” the brunette boy suggested.

my eyes twinkle a little bit, “hm i’d like that a lot.” i giggle. matt rolled over to his nightstand and grabbed a small bottle of lavender scented lotion from his drawer. i sat up slightly, throwing the blanket to the side.

matt sat crisscrossed while squirting a bit of lotion into his hands. “is this the lavender one i bought you?” i ask with a small smile. he nodded, spreading the lotion evenly on my thighs and calfs. his thumbs kneeded into my skin, making sure every inch of my skin got touched.

his palms massaged every part of my leg. i let out a quiet shaky moan as matt soon neared his fingers close to my inner thighs. he looked up at me with slight doe eyes. “is this okay sweetheart?” he asked, tilting his head to the side slightly. i nod slowly, allowing matt to give soft kisses on my thighs.

matt’s hands ran up and down the sides of my thighs with a bit of pressure, leaving goosebumps. “does this feel good princess?” matt whispered as his eyes shot through mine. i whine in agreement, the spot in between my legs starting to ache. his fingers continued to get closer to where i needed them to be. “matt, baby.” i whine. matt hummed quietly, looking back up at me. “hm? what is it sweetheart?” he whispered, spreading my legs apart. i blinked at him slowly, “mh, i need you.” i breath softly.

“awh my poor baby.” he teased, his thumb rubbing small circles on my clothed clit. my back arched off the bed just a bit. his fingers hooked around the waistband of my panties and he slowly pulled them down.

matt looked up at me, his hand sliding under my lower back. his fingers traced my entrance teasingly, making me let out soft moans. “i barely touched you sweetheart, and your already wet.” he laughed softly, allowing his fingers inside of me. “mgh, baby.” i whine to the slight burning sensation of matt stretching me out. his fingers slid in and out of me easily, sending me over the moon. “taking my fingers so well huh?” matt purred, his tongue soon flicking over my clit. his tongue started to work wonders on my cunt, it swirling around my bundle of nerves.

i whimper out quietly, my legs wrapping around his head slightly. my hands reached down to his hair, tugging on it gently. a string of curses left my mouth that was falling agape. “fuck fuck please keep going.” i moan out. “such a needy girl.” matt whispered softly with a cocky smile on his face. my breath quickened so fast as his fingers continued to thrust in and out of me, hitting my g-spot repeatedly.

matt was determined to continue eye contact with me as his mouth worked on me perfectly. “mmmm. matt please dont stop it feels so good.” i whimper out as the familiar knot started to form in my stomach. “oh yeah?” he teased, letting his fingers out of my pussy and replaced them with his tongue. my back completely arched off of the bed, moaning out to the sensation of his tongue starting to fuck me.

i continued to let out small whimpers while matt continued to fuck me faster with his tongue. my eyes roll to the back of my head as my hips jolt upwards into his face. “m-matt im gonna cum.” i whimper, my hands pushing his head closer to my cunt. ”cum for me angel.” matt whispered, making the knot in my stomach unknot. he lapped up anything that he could and his mouth detached from my pussy.

his slender fingers curled up into me a few more times before he kissed my clit softly one last time. matt let soft wet open mouthed kisses on my inner thighs. “lets finish giving you that massage, yeah?” he laughed, as if he didn’t just practically make out with my pussy. “yes, please.” i pant out with a lazy smile on my face. we both giggled about it for the next few minuetes of matt kneeding his fingers into my skin.

taglist ;; @cheetahmadi @sturniol0s @luverboychris @mattsluttywaist

[megamindsecretlair]

Make Me Weak, Part 3

Pairing: Sex Therapist!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, mentions of depression, anxiety, and description of sexual issues. Power imbalance, Shy!reader. Dark!Terry. Dom!Terry, AU Terry, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some. I'm not a therapist and while I do not make light of therapy, this is purely for my own fun. Please seek real medical attention when necessary.

Summary: Your third session with Dr. Richmond gets more intense as he finally figures out how best to help you. He makes you dig deeper and uncover uncomfortable truths about yourself.

Word Count: 4,751k

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3 Link

A/N: Alright now, I'm feeling a smidge bullied about this series. I am very thankful that ya'll love my series and while I know that it's out of love, I have a squirrel brain and bad noodle days. I would never want to put out a subpar fic. So the best way to encourage me is tell me what you liked about the fic! I have a praise kink, babes. I had TOO much fun writing this and you will not hurt my feelings if you don't want to read this one. However, I must tag to keep my taglist updated. Forgive me, my loves. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Terry

Terry sat in the office breakroom stirring his tea while it steeped. He had your file spread out on the small round table as he went over it one last time before your appointment today. Though, it remained a mystery if you’d actually show.

For the past week, he had been pouring over your file backwards and forwards trying to glean what you weren’t saying. What you were holding yourself back from saying. He didn’t usually like to bad mouth his professional colleagues, but their notes were sloppy; and that was putting it mildly. 

Terry rolled the tea bag around the spoon to squeeze excess water out and then placed it on the napkin beside his mug. He sighed and stretched, stuck too long already in one position. 

It was clear that he couldn’t bully you into opening up. That wasn’t what you needed. You were already on the precipice. So much of your insights were spot on. You didn’t really need him, but you needed a guide. Someone to mentor you or mold you…no, that wasn’t it.

Terry scratched out the word on the notebook he started for you. It’s not molding you, you already have a strong foundation. You weren’t putty for someone to play with. You were more resilient, more open, more determined. 

So if not mold…Terry rubbed his short goatee and adjusted himself on the orange plastic chair. He thought a change of scenery would help give him an attack plan. A way to approach your next session, but he was at a loss. He was uncomfortable in these cheap ass seats, for starters. And the ideas weren’t coming in the quiet, rigidly styled break room.

It was like playing wack-a-mole with you. Every method he thought of, you shot down. Every time he thought he had a way into that pretty head of yours, you switched gears. It was challenging and frustrating and exciting as hell. 

His pen hovered over the notebook, full of crossed out words and methodologies he could try. And for the first time in a long while, his mind was blank. He had nothing. How did he combat nine therapists and a woman hell-bent on doing everything herself? 

“Hey, Dr. Richmond! Funny seeing you here!” Dr. Crawford waltzed into the breakroom and opened the nearest teak cabinet. He pulled down a mug that proclaimed him as the best dad ever and he hummed to himself as he poured himself some coffee. 

Terry eyed the older man with a bushy mustache but a “dad” demeanor. He treated everyone kindly and he came highly recommended for good reason. He seemed to zero in on everyone’s problems like he had a nose for it. 

“Dr. Crawford. I’d actually like your help with something,” Terry said.

“Me? Oh, cool. Cool,” Dr. Crawford paused as if he were a deer caught in headlights. Regaining himself, he patted down his army green button up and approached Terry’s table. 

Terry flipped your file closed and made more space for Dr. Crawford. The older man sat down with a quiet huff and sipped loudly at his coffee. Terry hoped his face didn’t reveal his disgust, but the man was a good guy. Just a bit odd. 

“What’s on your mind?” Dr. Crawford asked, placing his mug down on the table. 

Terry rubbed his hands while he thought over how to approach his question without coming off like a creep. His feelings for you were strictly professional. Okay, maybe not strictly but Crawford didn’t need to know that.

“I have a female patient, difficulty achieving climax, well-researched, with issues with control. We’ve had two sessions so far and usually I’d wait for more data, but at the moment, she’s been through nine therapists,” Terry said.

“Nine?” Dr. Crawford asked.

Terry smirked and nodded. “Nine. She’s committed to the process and seems willing to try new things, but I’m concerned that I can’t find my baseline with her. She’s been through so many therapists, she’s done copious research on her own, like…how do I compete with that?” Terry asked. 

Dr. Crawford took a few sips of his mug and stared out of the windows towards the cityscape. “Nine therapists, you say? And no one’s helped her?” Dr. Crawford’s bushy mustache moved with his frown. 

Terry fought off a smile. Dr. Crawford hadn’t even met you and he was reaching conclusions faster than Terry. Nine therapists was a lot for anyone to not find any kind of solution. 

“I ask probing questions, I’ve given her some things to think over, but it’s only going to work if she’s willing to do all of it,” he said. 

“My advice? Start from the beginning. Find a way for her to trust you. If she’s been through nine therapists, I imagine they’ve done everything under the sun already. And if she’s as well-read as you say, you better come up with something better before she’s on to number eleven,” Dr. Crawford said. 

Terry chuckled. “Right, because she’s done it all, said it all…”

“And yet no one’s gotten to the core of the issue. You can talk solutions all day long but if you don’t know what the hell you’re treating, you’re just wasting her time,” Dr. Crawford said and knocked on the table. “It’s not competing against the others. It’s erasing them completely.”

Terry mulled that over as he took some notes. He liked that. It wasn’t molding you, more like shaping you. Stripping away all the misconceptions and untruths and whatever it was that you’ve read thus far. Everything your previous therapists had tried. His job was to uncover who you truly were.

Reveal…uncover…sculpt…that was it. He was merely helping you sculpt the woman begging to be let out. You were a sexual goddess trapped in marble. You were already there, just unpolished. He had to chisel his way there, not jackhammer it. You didn’t need kid gloves but you needed more finesse. 

Terry smirked as his pen scratched against his notepad, jotting down idea after idea. He hoped you showed. He hoped you took a chance on him and let him help you. Let him be your tenth and final therapist. And then release you to whatever bum caught your eye. 

“This is incredibly helpful, thank you Dr. Crawford,” Terry said. He threw away his trash and then gathered his tea, your file, and your notebook. 

Dr. Crawford’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, his neck turning cherry red. “Oh, I’m sure you would’ve gotten there without me,” he said with a wave. 

“I’m sure I wouldn’t have. See you around,” Terry said, tapping Dr. Crawford on the back. Talking to him reminded Terry of his own father. A tall, imposing man who was larger than life yet nothing but a gentle giant. 

Terry exited the break room and steamrolled down the bland, drab hallway towards his office. His mind filled with more ideas than he knew what to do with. New things to try. New things to explore. If you let him, he would show you exactly what you needed. 

He rounded the corner in time to see you step back from his office door. He stopped in his tracks and watched you for a moment, watched your unguarded expression as you hovered. You were dressed in dark jeans and a red sweatshirt, a small purse over your shoulder, and you clutched your journal against your chest. Your hair was neatly styled and it fit you. 

Many expressions played across your sweet face. You had a tilt to your head and a lilt to your mouth. He would pay top dollar to know what you were thinking. What mental battle you waged inside. Or whether or not you’d knock on the door.

&&&

You

You sighed and rubbed your head. You had been debating if you would attend today’s appointment or not. You felt less than grown up storming out of his office. He must’ve thought you were the biggest goof in the world. 

You fought yourself the entire ride over, constantly looking at every corner as an opportunity to escape. To flee. But you kept passing it up because each corner also tasted terribly like defeat. 

In two sessions, Dr. Richmond had you re-thinking everything. Besides being drop dead gorgeous, he had a big brain to back it up. And damn if it wasn’t working. You wanted more. You wanted to explore everything about yourself. 

Living in your body was painful. But god, you felt so alive. The numbness receded with each passing day as you practiced. You needed to see it through. So with a rumbling gut and sweaty palms, you forced yourself to stay on the road and attend your appointment.

You sighed. This was going to be fucking painful. You raised your hand to knock when soft footfalls sounded behind you.

“No need,” Dr. Richmond said. 

You turned to your right to see him come to a complete stop in front of you. Sugar Honey Iced Tea, he was dreamy. He wore a tan colored long sleeved T-shirt and dark navy pants. The sleeves were rolled on his forearm, veins poking out in his deep almond skin, peeks of tattoos, and he held a mug in his hand. His other hand clutched a notebook and a thick file. Your file. 

You looked from it to his hands to his forearms. Your eyes pinged everywhere on him but his face. Dr. Richmond cleared his throat and tilted his head.

You pinched your lips together and smiled, your eyes crinkling at being caught staring. “Dr. Richmond, great - uh - good to see you,” you said. God, if you listening, strike now, please. Please. Please? 

“I’m glad you’re here. I feared I would’ve been alone for the next hour,” he said. 

You sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I was definitely debating. But I said I was committed, and I meant it,” you said. 

Dr. Richmond nodded and then waved his hand forward. You opened the door and held it open for him to enter behind you. You practically skipped to the couch and stood awkwardly in front of it. You held onto your journal but threw your purse on the coffee table.

You watched as Dr. Richmond deposited the mug, notebook, and your file on his desk. You watched the long length of his body, drooling at the fluid way he moved. He must live in the gym or something.

His shirt hinted at a rock hard body, but you wanted to see more. And that was totally the wrong thing to think about your sex therapist. You huffed and looked away from him, up towards the ceiling. 

There should be a law against attractive authority figures. He should be banned from the profession. Retire and go on somewhere. 

The door closed behind you and you jumped. “Would you like it open?” Dr. Richmond asked.

“Nope, I’m good,” you said. You turned to him and gave him a wide smile. “I’m just nervous.”

Dr. Richmond smiled and put his hand in his pocket. “There’s no reason to be nervous. You’re in charge here, remember that,” he said.

You nodded and watched as he crossed the room. Instead of going towards his chair, he perched next to the desk and faced you. “Before we get started, I want to clear the air. I didn’t mean to push you so hard. I approached our session wrong and I apologize,” he said. 

“In what way?” You asked. 

“I assumed that with so many therapists that you didn’t need the song and dance. That you didn’t need the introductory session,” he said.

“No, that was right. I need a push. I know I have more issues to work through than I thought. And so far, everyone’s just been coddling me. Treating me like what I’m feeling is in my head. And I spend all my life in this motherfucker. I know it’s not in my head. Sorry for saying motherfucker,” you said and smirked. 

Dr. Richmond rocked back on his heels and matched your smirk. He nodded his head. “Then we can both move forward together,” he said. He moved around his desk and then sat in his high backed chair. He pulled the mug towards him and blew on the steaming mug. 

His lips should not look so damn kissable. Lush and pink, he had big sexy lips that just made you want to kiss forever. He was a work of art made real. He took a sip from his cup and then pulled the notebook and your file closer. 

“Have you been keeping up with your homework?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yup. Living in my body. Feeling my feelings. Admiring myself,” you said. You finally felt calm enough to sit down on the couch. You stared at the Lego set in the zen garden and shook your head. 

“And?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes and opened your journal and flipped to the pre-appointment jitters. You listed main points that you didn’t mind sharing with him. You told him all about what experiencing living your body felt like. 

It was scary and there were times that you slipped back into your head without realizing it. Zoning back in was always painful, like stepping into the sun after sitting for a three hour movie. You talked about how strange it was to feel like you had been asleep all this time, pushing everything to the back of your mind.

Later, later, another time, when you weren’t so busy. But you were always busy. Always running and moving and thinking and stressing. 

“That must be exhausting,” he chimed in. 

“You have no idea,” you said. Your shoulders dropped from around your shoulders and you mentally groaned. This was going to turn into your Sisyphus. You were going to kick that healing rock up the mountain and just when you thought you’d finally make it, you’d just go tumbling back down. Hope, you fickle bitch. 

You and hope had a toxic codependent relationship. It didn’t really fuck with you like that, but you kept letting it back in your heart. 

“Where do you think this need to cut yourself down before someone else does come from?” Dr. Richmond asked.

You fanned yourself and gaped at him. “Buy me dinner first at least, Dr. Richmond,” you said. You shared a laugh with him and shook your head. “So I wouldn’t be disappointed with my parents when they didn’t give me the reaction I wanted for my accomplishments.” 

Dr. Richmond leaned forward, his eyebrow shooting up above the golden rim of his glasses. “You really do over-analyze yourself,” he said.

You shrugged. “It’s a compulsion. If I don’t, the world burns,” you said softly. Your eyes pricked with tears but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. You weren’t going to shy from this. You weren’t going to disappear into your mind. 

Dr. Richmond took another sip of his mug but to his credit, he didn’t write anything down. That would have somehow been embarrassing. You waited while he sat there and you busied yourself with picking at your nails. 

“We need a fresh start,” Dr. Richmond said. He picked up your file and then opened a drawer. He dropped the folder and the metal popped with the weight. He closed the drawer and then faced you. 

“I’m not your tenth therapist. I’m your first. If you let me, I’m going to help you achieve what you want. You’re going to find sexual satisfaction whenever you want. Whether that’s alone or with a partner,” he said. 

“That’s what I want,” you said.

He nodded and then gripped his mug but he didn’t bring it to his lips. “You said if you didn’t over-analyze yourself, the world would burn. Do you believe the world will literally burn or do you just think something bad will happen?” 

You rubbed your sweaty palms on your jeans and scooted forward on the couch. “Rationally, I know that’s impossible. But irrationally? I’ve never been brave enough to test it,” you said. 

Your mind spun at a thousand hertz per second. It never shut up. Never stopped rolling. Never stopped running. Never stopped with the constant chatter in your mind. You didn’t know what would happen if you had a calm mind. The only time you got some semblance of relief was when you were high.

And even then, your mind was still running in the background. Popping up with new tabs constantly. Because if the chatter stopped, you’d have to face the silence. And you just didn’t know how you’d act. Or if the world would burn. All you knew was that your mind kept spinning and so did the world. 

“Tell me about how you were treated as a teen. How did your parents treat you and how did your peers at school treat you?” He asked.

You giggled. “Okay, if not dinner, then ice cream? I’m a simple cookies n’ cream girly,” you said. 

Dr. Richmond chuckled. “Jokes are just a way to procrastinate,” he said. Goodness that voice. That subtle twang in the back of his throat that hinted of a Southern background. 

You huffed and leaned back on the couch. No one said healing was easy. So you told him. You told him about your over-analytical helicopter parents who were so fearful of something happening to you that they placed you in an invisible bubble. 

They had to know where you were at all times, they had to know your friend’s parents and have them on speed dial, they asked after your every move, and you asked permission before even thinking about going in the fridge. 

You had to become hypervigilant and pick up on cues that your mother was going to grow a second head from all her yelling. You never knew when she would give you a kiss on the cheek or yell at you for no reason. You had to scan her face for microexpressions, trying to gauge which way the wind would blow with her. 

As for your friends…they were cool for what you had at the time. You were no longer friends with them as they’d moved on and left you in the dust. But at the time, any little weird thing you did they poked fun at. And if it wasn’t them, it was the boys in your class. As if you couldn’t step a toe out of line without someone pointing it out for everyone to hear. 

If you jumped onto a chair, then people would turn and stare. If you waved your hands, there were three people there to call you weird. And if you joked and sung badly on purpose, people thought you were serious and made fun of you for being tone deaf.

You tried on plenty of personalities throughout the years, trying to mix and match what people expected of you. You eventually grew comfortable with being weird but that hypervigilance never left you. 

“Would you say you feel safe to be yourself at all?” Dr. Richmond asked. 

You twisted your lips and shook your head. “I wouldn’t know what that is. My mom read my diary once and I never wrote anything down ever again. Until you gave me my homework,” you said. 

&&&

Terry 

You just…listened so well. He knew now that it was a product of your upbringing, being the child who was only seen and never heard. Marching to hundreds of orders given by your overbearing mother and absent in spirit father. 

Add onto that that your peers at school treated you as if there was something wrong with you, it was impossible for you to become comfortable. To achieve safety of mind and body. Who could explore themselves like that? When so many conspired to convince you that you weren’t a person deserving of grace? 

Terry took a sip of his mug and watched you deflate further. Like every truth you kept trapped inside was what kept you animated and full. Without it… 

Terry stood up and rounded his desk, somehow needing the boundary out of the way. Maybe he’d sit in the other chair opposite the table from you from now on. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. 

Fuck. You never even had a chance. He prayed that you hadn’t been abused or hurt by anyone ever. It was a miracle that you didn’t have a string of abusive ex-boyfriends or a thicker medical file in a hospital somewhere. Sweet, open women like you deserved to be cared for. Protected. 

You were a sub in more ways that you realized. And his fondness for you, his attraction, only grew with each session. How? How would he let you go when you graduated from his help? 

“I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to really think before you answer,” he said. He replaced his glasses on his face and tilted his head forward to emphasize his point. This was a hard question but it needed to be asked. 

You leaned forward, clutched your journal to your chest, and pinched your lips. But you nodded and mimed zipping your mouth. 

“Who said they were right?” He asked.

He watched as your face smoothed out to an adorable blank. Your mouth flattened as you looked at him. Again, he wished more than anything to know what you were thinking. What questions raced in your mind. 

He grew concerned when you continued to stare without saying a word. But he didn’t interrupt. He wanted to see where you took it. What you would do. So as you stared, he stared. 

He took in your sweet, rounded features. Your adorably styled hair. The red in your sweatshirt highlighted your beautiful brown skin. You finally took a deep breath and then stared up at the ceiling.

“In all my life, no one has ever asked me that,” you said. You brought your hands to your eyes and swiped at them. You needed to let them fall but he wasn’t going to push you on that right now. 

You stood up and then rubbed your forehead as you paced back and forth. He continued to watch you self-soothe right before his eyes. He wondered if you were conscious of that too. Did you miss anything? 

“And…people just accept it when everyone seems to agree that you’re uncool or weird or whatever, ‘cause of what you said about the group thing. People want to fit in and belong but…no one died and made them the fucking authority on what’s cool. No one put them in charge and they’re not the popular police,” you said as you continued to pace like a ping pong ball. 

“Misery loves company. Hurt people hurt people. However you wanna spin it, nothing brings people closer together than hating the same thing or same person. There’s a sense of validation when people agree with you. And people think mob mentality only applies to bad situations, but it applies everywhere. Because there’s safety in numbers, people would rather go with the flow than be singled out.” 

You threw up your hands. “Why didn’t I learn this years ago? And now I just feel stupid for it never even occurred to me that they weren’t right,” you said. You sat down on the couch with a huff. 

Terry put his hands in his pockets and smirked. He glanced at the clock. He didn’t have you for much longer. He flexed his jaw at the thought. What he wouldn’t give. 

“You shouldn’t feel stupid. Think about what kind of environment you were raised in and continue to live in. You had to be aware to avoid danger. To avoid being singled out. You had to adapt to survive. That takes courage and bravery. You did what you had to do to survive and that’s all anyone is doing.

“But you don’t have to just survive anymore. You get to choose. You get to choose right here and now to live. Live with your whole body because you are here, you are perceivable, you matter, and you can take up space and the world will be fine,” he said. 

Tears swimmed in your eyes and you stood up to face away from him. You faced the window and your shoulders shook. You gripped yourself in a low hug, not making a single sound. 

Terry moved to his desk to grab the box of tissues silently. He made noise so that you knew he was approaching and he placed the box on the end table under the window. You turned your body from him but grabbed a tissue and swiped at your eyes. 

The only sounds he heard was the tick of the clock on the wall and your random sniffles. The shake in your shoulders subsided bit by bit until you looked up at the ceiling. 

Terry remained close by so that you knew you weren’t alone.

&&&

You

Fuck, you felt like a fucking idiot. All these years. Nine fucking therapists. Shitty boyfriend after shitty boyfriend. Your mother’s latest tirade and your father’s empty shrug. All for this man to ask you the one question that shook you to your core. 

Who said they were right? Who said? Who gave them the right to make you think that there was something wrong with you? That your very existence was a plight on the world and it’d be better if you weren’t there? 

Who fucking said? 

It was all so simple and yet complicated. You hung your sense of safety on the need to “do the right thing at the right time”. If you did something “normal”, then no one could make fun of you, and you passed through another day fooling everyone with your disguise. 

And fuck! Wasn’t that freeing? Your chest ached and your eyes pricked with unshed tears, but it was already embarrassing that Dr. Richmond witnessed you crying. You liked to reserve that for sappy, cheesy romance movies on Netflix. 

Your heart felt heavy, weighing down your chest to a near uncomfortable level. You knew you needed to release all of it but not now. Not after only three sessions with this man. 

Who was he? Why was he like this? Where the fuck did he come from? 

“I see why they pay you the big bucks now,” you said, wiping at a tear that dared escape your eye. And you had a random ache in your belly? Feelings were weird. And sticky. Like constantly stepping on glue traps plastered all over the kitchen floor. 

“Why did you place so much bearing on their opinions?” Dr. Richmond asked. You liked that he had stayed close by while you broke apart. It was so rare that you did it in front of others. You were glad that he wasn’t the hugging type. Or the one who filled the room with hot air about how much it was needed and you should let go. 

“Because I don’t want to be alone forever. I want proof that I mattered to someone,” you whispered. You sniffled but held back the tears. You blinked a few times and held firm. Later.

“How can you matter to anyone if you don’t matter to yourself?” Dr. Richmond asked softly. 

The clock ticked in the background and you glanced at the clock. You were a little over your session and you were thankful that the next person hadn’t barged in. You wiped your face once more and then turned to Dr. Richmond.

He stood with his hands in his pockets and a kind smile on his face. His biggest strength was that he was unassuming despite his size. He knew when to use it to his advantage and when to switch it off. He was in tune with those around him and it was rare to find a man with a calming aura. 

“I matter to myself but probably not as much as I think,” you said. “I’ll work on that too.” 

Dr. Richmond nodded. “Your homework is to practice loving yourself. Speak kind words, think nice things about yourself, and remember that your brain is a big ass liar,” he said.

You giggled and ducked your head. “Alright, alright. I’ll be nicer to myself. You missed your calling as a mind reader, Dr. Richmond,” you said. You grabbed your journal and purse from the couch and coffee table and then exited the room, feeling way lighter than when you went in.

Wheww! Need some more? The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1 | Part 2

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[itneverendshere]

all that talk is killing me - rafe cameron

request here: Fighter!Pilot!Rafe AU x Sweet!Reader. word count: 6.5K (YIKES) warnings: tooth rooting fluff and rafe being too charming.

There was that god-awful distinct scent of jet fuel in the air, a reminder that you were in one of the Navy’s busiest air bases. The hum of roaring engines wasn’t anything new; it had become a part of your day-to-day existence. The bar you worked at, The Mirage, was a hotspot for pilots, flight crews, and pretty much anyone else who was stationed nearby. A quiet coastal town didn’t offer many options for a social life, and if you wanted to get a cold drink or unwind, The Mirage was the place to be.

You’d been working here for just over a year and a half, long enough to recognize the distinct swagger of a military man when he walked through the door. They were easy to spot – especially the pilots.

Sunglasses permanently glued to their faces, that stupid untouchable arrogance radiating from them, the knowledge that they were some of the best in the world at what they did. It was almost admirable, if it wasn’t so…predictable. 

You had sworn off pilots. No, you’d sworn off men in a uniform all together.

It wasn’t like a hard rule or anything, but after what happened with your last boyfriend—who, shocker, also wore a uniform—you weren’t about to make the same mistake twice. You’d learned the hard way that guys like that came with way too much baggage. 

Long deployments, their egos inflated to the size of fighter jets, and let’s be real, they weren’t exactly known for being faithful. Military men had a reputation, and in your experience, they earned it. You weren’t about to get your heart broken again.

You’d been there, done that, and had the emotional scars to prove it.

So yeah, working at a bar right next to a Navy air base wasn’t exactly ideal, but you weren’t here for the guys. The Mirage was just a job, a way to pay the bills while you figured your life out. It was a decent gig. Good tips, a steady flow of regulars, and every now and then, you’d get to watch a squadron of cocky, ego-driven fighter pilots try to charm their way into someone’s pants. 

Fun to watch, but that was about it.

The first time Rafe walked into The Mirage, you felt it immediately—the shift in the air. 

You had your back turned, trying to keep busy wiping down the bar, but you could practically feel his presence as he swaggered up, like the whole place had just taken notice of him at once. Lean and built like he was carved from the side of a mountain, with shoulders that filled out his flight suit just right, and a chest broad enough to make any woman’s heart skip a beat.

And when you finally turned around? He was standing there with that stupid, lopsided grin, a couple of dog tags peeking out from beneath his half-zipped flight suit, the sleeves pushed up like he had zero intention of playing by any rules but his own. He had this ridiculously good-looking, disheveled kind of vibe going on, like he’d just gotten off a jet and didn’t care that his hair was all over the place.

You almost hated how good he looked.

He didn’t even hesitate when he caught your eye. He walked right up to the bar and leaned on it like he owned the place.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, flashing you a panty-dropping smile that probably worked on most girls. “Can I get a beer?”

Sweetheart? Oh God, one of those guys. His voice had that low, southern drawl, smooth as Tennessee whiskey, dripping with charm. It was the kind of voice that could make anything sound like a compliment, even when he was teasing. And the way he leaned on the bar, just a little too close, just a little too familiar, like he’d been doing it his whole life and knew exactly what effect it had—it was almost criminal.

“Sure,” you said, not bothering to match his energy. You grabbed a bottle and slid it across the bar to him, intentionally keeping it short and sweet. You weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of a flirty smile or small talk. Guys like him lived for that.

“Thanks, darling.” He tipped the bottle to you, still grinning like he knew something you didn’t. You sighed, turning back to your work, already half-expecting him to hit on someone else.

But over the next few days, Rafe kept showing up.

Every night, like clockwork, he’d stroll in after his missions with that same laid-back swagger. You noticed how people gravitated toward him, like he had this magnetic pull. His squadron buddies? They idolized him. Girls? Yeah, they fell for him hard, like they didn’t see the giant walking red flag that he was.

But the worst part? He kept coming back to you. 

Every time he walked into The Mirage, he’d make a beeline straight for the bar, leaning in with that smirk that was starting to get under your skin.

“You’re not like the other girls around here,” he said one night, lounging across the bar like he was settling in for the night.

So typical it gave you chills. He was a natural-born flirt, and he knew it. He wasn’t subtle; he didn’t have to be.

You snorted. “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“They all like a guy in uniform.” He motioned to his flight suit, like he was showing off. “But you? You don’t seem impressed.”

You met his gaze and deadpanned, “I’m not.”

That should’ve been the end of it. Usually, when you gave guys the cold shoulder, they got the hint. But Rafe? He wasn’t so easily shaken. If anything, your disinterest seemed to make him more determined.

“Gotta say, I like the challenge,” he said, watching you like you were some kind of game he was about to win.

You rolled your eyes, but part of you couldn’t help but laugh. The guy had confidence, that much was clear. But you had to remind yourself why you’d sworn off pilots. This wasn’t your first rodeo. You’d been with a guy like Rafe before. The type who’d make you feel like you were the center of his universe—until you weren’t.

“I don’t date pilots,” you told him flat-out one night after he tried to get cute, leaning closer than necessary over the bar. You were done playing games, and he needed to know it wasn’t happening.

He just raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable for a second before that grin returned. “That a hard rule?”

“Pretty solid, yeah.”

“And why’s that?”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical as hell, “You don’t even know my name.”

He leaned in slightly, that annoying grin never leaving his face as he took a sip of his beer, eyes never leaving yours. “You’re right,” he said casually, placing the bottle back down. “So, what’s your name, sweetheart?”

The audacity. Like his smooth confidence was supposed to melt away all your reservations like you were just another one of his conquests. You could see it so clearly now—the cocky smirk, the way his voice had that low, drawling quality that practically screamed “I get what I want.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head as you wiped down the counter. “I’m not giving you my name, Rafe.”

"But you know mine," He arched a brow, not even remotely phased. “Fair enough. Guess I’ll just have to earn it.”

“Not happening,” you shot back, trying to keep your tone firm. 

But you could feel a tiny sliver of amusement creep into your voice despite yourself. He was relentless, and for some stupid reason, it was kind of fun to watch him keep trying.

There was something about a man in uniform that made women lose all sense of reason, and you weren’t about to be that girl again.

And yet, Rafe Cameron kept coming back. 

Like a stray, relentless and impossible to ignore. And as much as you tried to play it cool, to not be another notch on his flight log, you couldn’t help but notice how his grin deepened every time you turned him down, like he was getting some kind of kick out of the challenge.

“You really don’t give up, do you?” you asked, throwing him a sideways glance as you refilled a couple of drinks for some regulars down the bar. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time.

He chuckled, that easy confidence still dripping from him. “Not when I see something I like.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, grabbing an empty glass and polishing it to distract yourself. “Well, you’re wasting your time,” you muttered, half-hoping that would be enough to shut him down for good.

But he didn’t take the hint. Instead, he leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel like the two of you were in on some kind of private conversation.

“Maybe. But something tells me you’re not as immune to my charm as you think.”

That did it. 

You turned to face him, arms crossed over your chest, giving him the most unimpressed look you could muster. “I’ve met guys like you before. You roll into town, flash that cocky smile, and think you can get anyone in bed because you’re a hotshot pilot. You’re probably great at what you do, and I’m sure girls throw themselves at you left and right. But I’m not one of them.”

His posture faltered just a little, and you almost—almost—felt bad for bursting his bubble. But then he just laughed, “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

You shrugged, nonchalant, but you could feel a small sense of satisfaction. “Why should I? Guys like you are all the same.”

Rafe leaned back, studying you with a look that was half amused, half intrigued, like you were some kind of puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

“Nah, I don’t think we are,” he said, almost to himself. “But I guess you’ve got your reasons.”

That hit a little closer to home than you expected, and you felt your defenses kick back in full force. “Yeah, well, they’re good ones.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he said, his tone softer than before. He tapped his fingers against the bar, like he was considering his next move. “But just so you know, I’m not looking for an easy win here.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Oh really? Because everything about you screams ‘I always win.’”

He laughed—more like he was in on a joke that only he understood. “True. But this feels different.”

Different. Sure, like every smooth-talking pilot didn’t say the same thing when they were trying to get a girl to let her guard down. You’d heard it all before.

“Look,” you started, leaning on the bar now, “I’m sure you’re a nice guy when you’re not playing the whole ‘bad boy in uniform’ thing. I’m not about to go down that road again. Especially not with someone who spends more time in the sky than on the ground.”

His eyes stayed on yours, unwavering. “But you don’t know me. Not really.”

“And you don’t know me either,” you shot back, feeling a bit defensive.

“That’s true.” He nodded, but there was a spark in his eyes that made you feel like he was more than ready to change that. “But I’d like to.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Nope.” His grin was back, but this time, it felt less like a game and more like a challenge. Not in the annoying, overconfident way, but in a way that made you almost—almost—want to see how far he’d go. “And I’m willing to take it slow, if that’s what you need.”

You weren’t used to guys like him offering to go slow. In your experience, they wanted everything fast—fast cars, fast planes, fast relationships. The fact that he was even suggesting the idea caught you off guard.

“I don’t need anything from you,” you said, though your voice wasn’t as firm as you wanted it to be.

“I know,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “But maybe you want to give me a shot. Maybe.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if this was some kind of trick. But all you saw was that stupid grin and those frustratingly blue eyes that were starting to chip away at your resolve.

“I’ll think about it,” you muttered, not fully committing but not entirely rejecting him either.

Rafe’s grin widened like he’d just won a small victory. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the drinks you were supposed to be serving, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Damn it.

You weren’t ready to let him in, not yet, but maybe—just maybe—you didn’t mind the idea of him trying.

Because, against your better judgment, you kind of liked the way he made you feel.

Over the next few months, Rafe didn’t just disappear like the others. 

He stuck around, but not in the way you expected. At first, you thought he was still working some angle—coming into The Mirage every night, sitting at the bar, chatting you up like he was trying to wear you down. But after a while, something changed. It wasn’t like he was chasing after you anymore. It was more…normal. Friendly, almost.

It started small. He’d ask you about your day, your shift, little things like that. He didn’t push for more. When he wasn’t in the bar, he’d still check in—he’d send these short, goofy texts from time to time. Just little updates, nothing deep.

“Heading out on a mission, don’t burn down the bar while I’m gone.”

Or, when he was away for a while:

“Bet the place is boring without me around, huh?”

It wasn’t anything serious. Just light, casual. And you liked it that way. It was enough to feel like he was there, but not so much that it freaked you out.

Sometimes he’d ask about your life outside of work—how your art classes were going or if you’d gotten your car fixed yet. He never let you walk home alone. You hadn’t expected that from him. Like, when you first met Rafe, you pegged him as the type of guy who only cared about himself. But he’d actually listened to you, remembered stuff you’d said, which was…surprising. And kind of nice.

Still, you kept your guard up. You weren’t about to let him in fully. Not after everything you’d been through before. But you couldn't deny that a part of you enjoyed his company.

One night, about six months in, he came into The Mirage after being away on a longer mission. He looked more exhausted than usual, but his grin was still there as he slid into his usual spot at the bar.

“Miss me?” he teased, tapping the counter as if he’d been gone for a year instead of a few weeks. That flight suit clung to him like a second skin, half-zipped just enough to reveal a sliver of tanned skin and a hint of a tattoo peeking out. The sleeves were rolled up, showing off forearms roped with muscle, veins running down like they were tracing a roadmap to all the trouble he’d been in. His dog tags swung carelessly against his chest, catching the dim light of the bar.

He looked good enough to eat.

“Not even a little,” you shot back with a smirk, pouring him his usual. But the truth was, things had felt kind of off when he wasn’t around.

He took a sip of his beer, watching you closely like he always did. “Sure about that?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron.”

You expected him to throw some cocky line back, but instead, he just chuckled. “You been good?”

It was such a simple question, but there was something in his voice that made you pause for a second. “Yeah,” you answered, nodding. “Same old, same old.”

“Good.” He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned his attention to the rest of the bar.

Everything felt kind of…easy with him now. You didn’t really know how or when it happened, but somewhere along the way, you’d started to see Rafe as more than just a cocky pilot. He was still all of that, sure, but there was more to him than you thought. He wasn’t just the guy who flirted relentlessly; he was the guy who checked in, who listened, who made you laugh when you didn’t even feel like smiling.

It was nice.

That night, The Mirage was packed. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and loud laughter. The usual suspects were there—pilots unwinding, a few locals mixing in, and the occasional sailor trying his luck. You’d been running around non-stop, the orders coming faster than you could keep up. Rafe had disappeared to the bathroom a few minutes ago, and you were focused on getting through the rest of your shift.

That’s when someone came up behind you. You didn’t even see him coming—just felt the sudden press of a hand on your waist, fingers gripping too tight, a body too close. Your breath hitched in your throat, heart picking up speed as you twisted around to see who the hell thought they could just grab you like that.

It was some guy you hadn’t seen before, a stranger with bleary eyes and a stench of cheap whiskey rolling off of him. He leaned in, way too close, his breath hot against your cheek. 

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he slurred, his hand sliding lower, and you felt your stomach twist.

“Get off me,” you snapped, trying to shove him away, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he grinned, like he thought this was some kind of game.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” he drawled, his other hand moving to grab at your arm, pulling you back toward him.

Panic flared fast in your chest. You tried to twist out of his grip, but he tightened his hold, pulling you closer.

“I said, let go!” you shouted, shoving him harder this time, your voice cutting through the noise of the bar. Your heart was racing now, pounding in your ears.

You glanced around, hoping someone would see what was happening, maybe step in, but everyone seemed too caught up in their own worlds, too fucking drunk to notice.

The guy just laughed, a low, sleazy sound that made your skin crawl. His hand slipped lower, fingers pressing into your hip, and you felt a cold rush of fear. “Just want to have a little fun,” he murmured, his voice thick and rough.

You opened your mouth to scream, to shout for someone, anyone, but before the words could come out, you heard it—the sound of glass shattering. You blinked, confused for a second, and then you saw Rafe.

He was back, and he was livid.

You’d never seen him like this before, eyes dark and wild, his jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscles twitching. He shoved through the crowd like a storm, fists already balled at his sides, his whole body taut with rage.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, voice low and dangerous, like he was barely holding himself back.

The guy barely had time to turn around before Rafe grabbed him by the collar, yanking him away from you with a force that sent him stumbling back into the bar. 

“Get your hands off her,” He spat, his voice like gravel, his eyes blazing.

The guy looked stunned, confused for a moment, before his face twisted into a sneer. “Hey, man, relax—”

But Rafe didn’t let him finish.

“Don’t ‘hey man’ me,” he growled, stepping closer, his hands still clenched into fists. “You touch her again, and I’ll break every bone in your fuckin' hand.”

You were still trying to catch your breath, your pulse racing, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You’d seen him mad before, but this was something else entirely. His whole body was tense, like he was ready to pounce, and there was a look in his eyes that was almost… feral.

The guy seemed to sober up real quick, his eyes flicking nervously between you and Rafe. “Alright, alright, I’m going,” he muttered, hands up in surrender as he backed away, disappearing into the crowd.

Rafe watched him go, his chest heaving, his fists still clenched like he wasn’t quite done yet. He turned to you, his eyes softening a little, but his face still hard, still angry. “You okay?” he asked, his voice rough, breathless.

You nodded, swallowing hard, trying to steady your breathing. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you managed, but your voice was shaky, betraying the fear still thrumming through you.

Rafe stepped closer, his hands reaching out to gently touch your arms, his fingers light against your skin. 

“You sure?” he asked, his eyes searching yours, his face so close you could see the worry etched into his features.

You nodded again, feeling a little steadier now, your heart still racing but slowing down, your breath coming easier. “Yeah,” you whispered, “Thanks to you.”

“You don’t have to worry,” he said quietly, “Not with me around. I got you.”

You felt your heart stutter in your chest, and you realized—maybe, just maybe, you were really starting to trust him. And that thought, more than anything, scared you to death.

It's why it felt so hard to be around him from that day on. You were trying to balance between wanting to keep things normal with him and avoiding getting too close. After what happened that night, you were more on edge than ever, and it didn’t help that Rafe was still making his usual appearances, his cute texts and late night calls. His protective streak had only made things more complicated.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his tone casual like he was trying to read between the lines.

You shrugged, “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

He didn’t buy it. “You seem off. Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened,” you said, a little too quickly. “Just a long night.”

Rafe didn’t push. Instead, he grabbed a drink and started chatting with you about mundane things—the kind of small talk that was meant to fill the space without digging too deep. 

He casually mentioned his plans for the weekend, how he was heading out with some friends, making it clear that he was open to other social opportunities.

“Gonna be out of town for a bit,” he said with a shrug, almost as if he was testing the waters. “Thought I’d let you know.”

You looked at him, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Okay.”

He paused, a smirk playing at his lips as if he was waiting for a reaction. “You sure you’re okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but the tightness in your voice gave you away.

Rafe’s smirk widened, clearly satisfied with the effect he was having. “Just checking. Didn’t know if you were going to miss me or somethin''.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage to find plenty of people who will,” you shot back, grimacing.

He chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You know, you’re more complicated than I thought.”

“That’s what makes life interesting,”

You finally let yourself admit it—his casual flirtation and the way he seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of you was starting to mess with your head. And that was exactly what he wanted.

So maybe, your petty self, doesn't answer to a single one of his texts while he's away. You figured if he wanted to play the game, you could play it too. It wasn’t like you were avoiding him or anything; you just wanted to make a point.

The first day, you didn’t think much of it. The second day, you told yourself it was no big deal. By the third day, you were trying not to obsess over the fact that your phone hadn’t buzzed with a message from him in the past twenty four hours. Like he'd given up. You kept yourself busy with shifts at The Mirage, catching up on sleep, and even dabbling in a new painting project.

When he finally came back, you were trying to act like it was just another day. You were behind the bar, pouring drinks and chatting away when he walked in.

Rafe’s usual swagger was in full force, but today, there was a hint of weariness in his eyes, like he’d been through the wringer. He slid onto his usual stool and flashed you that same charming grin, but this time, it felt a little more… tentative.

“Hey, stranger."

“Hey,” you replied, trying to sound casual, like you hadn’t been avoiding him. You set a beer in front of him and went back to wiping down the bar, giving yourself something to do so you wouldn’t have to meet his gaze.

Rafe took a sip of his beer, “So, you’ve been quiet lately. Everything alrigh'?”

“Just been busy, I guess.”

“Busy or just avoiding me?” 

“Why would I be avoiding you?” you chuckled, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ve been working and catching up on things.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly not buying it. “Did I do something to piss you off?”

Uh, duh. He was making you fall for him. Recklessly. 

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’ with a little too much force. “Everything’s fine.”

Everything was not fine, especially not when a girl you'd never seen before decided to eagerly join him on the stool next to his. 

You didn’t mean to be staring at them. You really didn’t. 

But there she was, practically hanging off Rafe’s arm like some kind of human accessory, her giggle obnoxiously loud over the music in The Mirage. She had this glossy, perfect hair, one of those flirty little dresses that clung to all the right places, and legs for days. And she was touching him. All over. Laughing way too hard at whatever stupid joke he’d just made.

You could feel your stomach twist into a knot, and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why it bothered you so much. It’s not like you hadn’t seen this before—girls throwing themselves at him like he was the last guy on Earth. You’d watched it happen a dozen times. Maybe a hundred.

But today? Today it felt different. Today, it felt like there was a boulder lodged in your chest, and you could barely breathe around it.

God, this was so stupid. You didn’t even like him like that. He was just…a friend. A hot, annoyingly charming friend who maybe made your heart race a little bit every time he walked into the bar. Whatever. It didn’t matter. You were not—repeat, not—catching feelings. You couldn’t be.

Still, your hands were gripping the bar a little tighter than necessary, your smile plastered on your face as you poured drinks for some regulars, trying to pretend you weren’t glancing over at them every five seconds.

But then she had the audacity to look right at you, her big doe eyes blinking innocently, and ask, “Hey, could you get me another drink?”

Your fingers tightened around the beer tap, and you felt a jolt of irritation shoot through you. The girl was practically hanging off his arm, and here she was, smiling at you like you were her personal waitress. 

You forced a smile, the kind that didn’t reach your eyes, and nodded. “Sure, what do you want?”

She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, leaning in even closer to Rafe as if she needed to be attached to his hip. “A tequila sunrise, please,” she chirped.

You had to grit your teeth to keep from rolling your eyes. “Coming right up,” you muttered through clenched teeth, turning your back to them as you reached for the tequila.

You could feel Rafe’s gaze burning into the back of your head, could practically hear the smirk in his voice without even looking. He was loving this. Watching you squirm, seeing you get all pissy while he played the charming flirt. God, he was such an asshole.

“Here you go,” you said, managing to keep your voice steady.

She beamed up at you, completely oblivious, and took a sip. “Thanks! You’re the best.”

He looked like he was having the time of his life. That stupid grin plastered on his face, his blue eyes sparkling as he leaned in close to hear whatever the girl was saying. And she was soaking it all up, practically melting into him, flipping her hair like she was auditioning for a shampoo commercial.

You felt this weird, hot sting in the back of your eyes and immediately blinked it away. Oh, hell no. You were not going to cry over this. Over him. No way.

But it was getting harder to hold it all together. You turned away, busied yourself with wiping down the counter, anything to stop looking at them.

And then it happened.

He looked over at you.

Just a quick glance, but enough to catch your eye. Enough to let you know that he knew you were watching. And damn it if he didn’t look like he was enjoying every second of it.

That did it. You felt the flush of heat creep up your neck, the anger boiling under your skin. You slammed a glass down a little harder than you meant to and mumbled something about taking a break.

“Hey, you okay?” one of your coworkers called after you, but you were already pushing through the back door, needing some fresh air, some space to get your head straight.

You ended up in the alleyway behind The Mirage, your back against the cool brick wall, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to keep it together. You felt so stupid, so ridiculous for even letting this get to you. He wasn’t yours. He was just…Rafe. And you were just you, the girl who’d sworn off guys like him a million times.

But it hurt. Way more than you wanted to admit. And before you knew it, a tear slipped down your cheek. You quickly swiped it away, cursing under your breath.

And that’s when you heard it—the creak of the door swinging open, footsteps on the gravel.

You didn’t even have to look to know who it was. Of course he followed you. Of course he did.

“What’s this?” Rafe’s voice was teasing, that familiar low drawl that usually made your heart flutter, but right now it just grated on your nerves. “Are you crying?”

You scoffed, keeping your back turned, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you alone. “No. Just…got something in my eye.”

“Sure you did.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, that stupid, smug grin that he always wore like some kind of armor. “You jealous or something, sweetheart?”

God, he was such an ass. “No,” you snapped, turning to glare at him. “Why would I be jealous? You can flirt with whoever you want. I don’t care.”

He stepped closer, still grinning like he’d won something. “Really? ‘Cause you looked pretty pissed back there.”

You felt another tear threatening to fall, and you bit down hard on your lip, willing it to stop. “I’m not pissed,” you lied, crossing your arms over your chest. “Just…busy. And you’re distracting.”

Rafe laughed softly, and you wanted to smack that grin off his face. “Distracting, huh?”

He was closer now, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his body, and it just made everything worse.

“I’m serious,” you said, your voice shaking just a little. “Just…leave me alone."

But of course, he didn’t. Instead, he took another step closer, reaching out to tilt your chin up so you had to look at him. His thumb brushed against your jaw, and you hated how good it felt, how much you wanted to lean into his touch even though you were mad as hell.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, all teasing gone. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You sniffed, trying to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you. His grip was gentle but firm, and for some stupid reason, that only made the tears come faster.

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, hating how weak you sounded. “Just…go back to your fan club, okay?”

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you saw something there, something that wasn’t just amusement. “Fan club?” he echoed, his brow furrowing slightly. 

“You mean that girl?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. That girl. You seemed pretty into her.”

He let out a low chuckle, but it wasn’t mocking. It was almost…gentle. “Sweetheart, you think I’m interested in her?”

You blinked, not trusting yourself to speak, so you just shrugged.

Rafe shook his head, his thumb still brushing your cheek. “Nah. I’m not. I was just…” He paused, a grin tugging at his lips. “I was just waiting to see how long it’d take you to get jealous.”

Your mouth dropped open. “You—what?”

He grinned, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Oh, C'mon. You think I didn’t notice the way you were glaring at her? You looked like you wanted to rip her hair out.”

 “I did not,” you protested, but the redness in your cheeks betrayed you.

Rafe’s grin widened. “Yeah, you did. And I gotta admit…kinda hot seeing ya all riled up over me, sugar.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, but there was no heat in your voice now. It was hard to stay mad when he was looking at you like that, like you were the only person in the world.

He laughed softly, but then his expression softened, and he cupped your face with both hands, pulling you closer. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and serious now. “For the record, there’s no one else. Just you, okay?”

Your heart did a stupid little flip at his words, and you wanted to be mad, you really did. But instead, you just felt relief flood through you.

“Okay,” you whispered, and before you knew it, you were in his arms, his lips pressing against your forehead, his hands wrapping around you like he was never letting go.

“You don’t have to pretend you don’t care, you know,” he murmured against your hair. “I kind of like that you do.”

You sighed, finally letting yourself lean into him, burying your face in his chest. “I hate you,” you mumbled, but your arms were wrapping around him all the same.

He chuckled, pulling you even closer. “Nah, you don’t.”

And damn it, he was right.

Then, you shifted back a little, looking up at him. His face was closer than you’d realized, his breath warm against your skin. You could see every fleck of gold in his eyes, the way his lips curved slightly like he was trying not to smile too much.

"You’re an asshole, y'know that?" you whispered, but your voice came out softer than you meant it to.

He laughed, a low rumble that you felt in your chest more than heard. "Yeah. But you kinda like that about me, don't ya?"

There was no hiding the grin tugging at your lips. "You think you’re so charming."

"That's 'cause I am," he shot back, but his voice had this low, husky tone to it now. His gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there a beat too long. You could feel your heart speeding up. It was like everything slowed down in that moment.

Before you could overthink it, he leaned in. Slowly, like he was giving you a chance to pull away, his eyes locked on yours, searching, waiting for any sign that you didn’t want this. But you did. More than anything, you wanted this.

So, you didn’t move. You let him come closer, closer until you could feel the warmth of his lips brushing against yours, so light at first it was barely there. A soft, testing touch, like he was still making sure this was okay. And then, when you didn’t pull back, he pressed his lips fully to yours.

It was gentle at first, careful, his hands still cupping your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks like he was memorizing every inch of you. You could taste the faint hint of beer on his lips, feel the scratch of his stubble against your skin, you felt something sweet, something that was just him.

You kissed him back, tentatively at first, but then something in you snapped. You sighed against his mouth, a soft, involuntary sound, and that was all it took for him to deepen the kiss. His tongue brushed against your lower lip, asking for permission, and you granted it without thinking, opening to him, meeting him halfway.

All the tension, all the months of pretending you didn’t feel anything, it all spilled out at once. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your fingers threading through his hair, deepening the kiss.

Rafe groaned softly, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you flush against him. And you kissed him back just as fiercely, letting yourself feel every bit of it. When you broke apart for just a second, gasping for air, but he didn’t go far. His lips hovered over yours, his breath warm, his eyes dark and intense, like he was seeing straight through you.

"God," he whispered, his voice ragged, "I’ve wanted to do that for so long."

You didn’t even have time to say something before he captured your mouth again, this time slower, deeper, like he wanted to savor every second. His hands were everywhere now—one in your hair, the other sliding down to the small of your back, holding you like he was never going to let go.

You broke apart again, both of you panting, his forehead pressed against yours. “Fuck,” he breathed out, a smile spreading across his face. "You sure you don't hate me?"

You laughed, breathless, your heart hammering against your ribs. "Maybe just a little," you teased, but there was no hiding the smile that was stretching across your face, the way your fingers still tangled in his hair, like you couldn’t let go.

He chuckled, leaning in to steal another quick kiss, softer this time, sweet and playful. "Well, I can live with that." he murmured against your lips.

And as he kissed you again, you realized that maybe you could, too.

[joeyfranchise]

all tangled up in the moon

justin herbert x fem!reader

summary: you finally began feeling open to dating in your new home of sunny la, especially since your best friend didn’t love you back the way you loved him… unless he did? a telling double date begins unraveling feelings that you didn’t know were shared…

warnings: pining/mutual pining. expressions of feelings. a LOT of fluff. explicit sexual content, MDNI. 18+ only.

word count: 6.3k.

note: my first ever justin fic!! based on so many ideas from my bestie @joeyburrrow, also happy belated birthday btw 🫂 i’m sorry i didn’t get it posted yesterday! but, she and i have talked about so much of this and this fic truly is for her. ALSO— FOR THE PURPOSE OF THIS FIC ONLY— i made justin allergic to walnuts. idk if he is or not, but it’ll make sense when you get there. i hope you like this. love you all. 💗

the dating pool in los angeles was nothing short of horrible.

sure, there were tons of people, which meant tons of options… but that also lead to some problems. there was so much diversity around, which again, is great… but it often led to mismatched partners and having trouble finding someone with all of the same interests or morals or values as you.

that being said, while messing around on dating apps, you found yourself a date that ticked more of your boxes than anyone else had since you moved to the sunny city.

his name was damon, and he worked at a law firm that wasn’t too far from your own nine-to-five job. his profile said he was 6’2, in his pictures he displayed a beautiful smile, and his interests were similar enough to yours that you figured why not give it a chance?

when you swiped right he’d messaged you nearly immediately, which could’ve been a red flag, but he kept it sweet and professional. his personality shined through his messages and you found yourself genuinely laughing at some of his jokes, and that was always a good sign.

you ran into one little problem though. you didn’t really know anyone else in l.a. except for your best friend, therefore you didn’t have many people to trust. sure, you had coworkers and acquaintances in the office, but none of them were around you enough to be able to vet through suitors from your dating life to let you know who would work and who wouldn’t.

you were also afraid to go out with someone new alone, and you blamed that on being an introvert. you ultimately made the decision that either damon would have to be okay with your first date being a double date, or you just wouldn’t go. when damon agreed it was fine, you called justin worriedly - this was going to be the hard part.

he picked up after two rings.

“is this the krusty krab?” you asked teasingly, smiling as you heard him huff out a brief laugh. he lowered his voice before answering.

“no, this is patrick.”

“yeah, justin patrick,” you teased, “unless i called the wrong brother.” you chewed on your bottom lip as you heard him chuckle again.

“that’s my name! don’t wear it out.” he joked. you could practically see the dumb grin already etched across his face. you remained silent for a moment, the weight of the question weighing on you. when you didn’t respond, justin took the lead of the conversation again.

“hey, y/n? you okay? not that i mind you calling me, of course i don’t mind… but did you need something? is everything alright?” you appreciated his ability to talk you down in moments like this, it was like he could sense your nerves even from miles away, and over a phone call.

“i’m okay. but i have a tiny favor to ask. you know you’re my most favorite best friend in the wholeee world, right?” you laughed, trying to push past the anxiety of the question you needed to ask him. “i do. what’s the favor?”

“i have a date friday night and i’ve never met him before. i didn’t know anyone else to ask and.. i was hoping maybe you and chloe could come along? like a double date?”

justin and chloe had started seeing each other recently, and you liked her enough not to really worry about their relationship. sure, she was living your dream being with justin, but you practically knew he didn’t feel the same about you. while you were completely and utterly in love with him, he still saw you as his best friend, and you had learned to accept it.

when you first met chloe you knew she wasn’t his type, she was completely different from justin… but he seemed happy, and that’s all you ever wanted for him. she was excited to meet you too, and in the few times you’d seen her since she was always genuine and kind.

“i think we can make that work, i should be out of practice in time. i’ll let chloe know and then we can figure out where to go. there’s a new restaurant downtown she and i went to a few weeks ago, you’d love it. they have really good raspberry cheesecake!” he said.

“oooh my favorite!” you cheered, already daydreaming of the delicious confection.

“i know.” he agreed. you smiled on the other end of the line, the way he knew you from cover to cover made your heart ache. you only hoped damon - and if not him, then whoever was destined for you - could be such a wonderful lover to you. someone who truly cared to learn everything there was to know about you, just like you and justin did with each other, even if only as friends.

you and justin talked for a bit longer over menial things before you ended the call, bidding him a goodnight. you made sure to text damon about your plans, letting him know you’d get back to him about a time as soon as you could.

he was excited for your date, and also excited to meet justin. you learned damon was a big fan of sports, and even though he wasn’t a chargers fan, he still really liked justin and thought he was a great player. he didn’t believe you when you first told him justin was your best friend, you had to provide him with photo evidence. the whole ordeal made you laugh. after chatting briefly with damon you put your phone on your bedside table before rolling over and getting cozy under your blankets.

you went to bed with a smile on your face that night, excited for your date with damon and also excited for him to meet your best friend.

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

you sailed through the week on a high, and when friday night came you were still feeling ecstatic. you were still a little anxious about going out and meeting damon in person for the first time, but getting to know him through the week had helped you warm up a little and let your guard down.

you decided on wearing a simple black dress, classy yet not too-fancy. you curled your hair and applied a light layer of makeup before slipping on a pair of strappy black heels.

you planned on meeting justin and chloe at the restaurant at seven, giving everyone enough time to get ready and allowing justin to shower and freshen up after practice.

damon picked you up at six-thirty. he met you at your door with flowers which you graciously accepted, and you excused yourself to bring them inside and put them in water before locking up and going with damon to his car.

he opened your door for you and you slid in, buckling your seatbelt as you waited for him to get in and start the engine. it was a bit chilly out and you were grateful when damon turned up the heat before backing out of your driveway and heading to the restaurant.

you chatted with him on the drive and it was pretty pleasant, you were thankful that the conversation between you both flowed easily. you learned that his favorite football team was the los angeles rams, and you joked with him that he’d need to let you out of the car immediately because you wouldn’t stand for that nonsense.

he laughed heartily at your joke. he talked to you more about his job, you learned he was a paralegal and that he’d been in the profession for nearly four years. you told him about your experience working in human resources and you related over shared experiences.

when you arrived to the restaurant damon parked and came around to open your door, and you were quickly met by justin and chloe. damon and justin shook hands and introduced themselves to each other as you greeted chloe.

“i love your dress!” she smiled, you thanked her. “you look incredible too, chloe!”

she wore a light blue dress that came down mid-thigh and had long sleeves. she wore black heels as well, and you loved the glittery eyeshadow she had put on.

the four of you walked into the restaurant and justin spoke to the host about reservations he had so graciously called in - which you thanked him immensely for. the host led your party to a table toward the back of the restaurant and you all sat. damon made sure to pull out your chair, and justin did the same for chloe.

the waitress came by shortly after for your drink orders, you and justin both got water. chloe ordered a riesling and damon ordered a cabernet, which you found amusing. you didn’t say anything about it, though.

the waitress brought your drinks quickly and she also brought a basket of bread for the table, with little cups of cinnamon butter. you indulged in one as you listened to justin and damon begin chatting about football.

you and chloe began to chime in at times, and the atmosphere was nice. you and damon also engaged in your own quiet conversation every now and then, and you were starting to like it every time he’d flash you his award winning smile… until justin would smile at you from across the table. in those moments, you knew who your heart truly belonged to.

a few times during dinner the conversations would ebb off, or the input from chloe and damon would stop, leaving only you and justin talking to each other.

the waitress brought your food and you all began dining, while still chatting here and there about work and sports and things of that nature. the waitress came back around a bit later to take plates and your dessert orders. the men continued to talk while you and chloe ordered, with you asking for cheesecake and chloe ordering a fudgy brownie.

something damon said reminded justin of something he needed to tell you, and he turned his attention toward you quickly.

“y/n, i was meaning to tell you that my uncle had some students interested in trying to make a car run on vegetable oil.” you laughed at his statement before giving your input.

“so what, they want to install a second fuel tank i’m assuming? so the vehicle can run on diesel til it’s hot enough and then they’ll switch to the oil?” you ask. “yeah exactly. i thought it sounded pretty cool.” justin smiles. “sounds like a waste of time to me.” you say amusedly. justin tilts his head and gives you a questioning glance.

“it’s totally not a waste of time. if they can figure out how to do it, it’ll be pretty sick.” he disagrees. damon glances between you before chiming in. “i think it’d be pretty cool too!” he agrees with justin.

“do you know how many times they’d have to filter the oil before they could even use it? and they’d have to make sure to install a solenoid valve to switch between two fuel tanks. too much work.” you say, crossing your arms and looking back and forth between both men. chloe says nothing, you assume she has no idea what any of you are talking about.

you noticed damon checking the time on his phone before sliding it back into his pocket and rejoining your conversation, but mostly listening to you and justin bicker.

“it totally reminded me of that 70s show though, you know? when hyde says ‘there’s this car…. and it runs on water, man!’” justin laughs, doing a pretty decent impression of the character.

“i just feel like making modifications to your car so it could run off vegetable oil is a waste of time.” you say, leaning back slightly in your chair. justin’s girlfriend looks between the two of you with an odd look on her face, only breaking focus when she sees the waitress approaching again.

“here’s the double chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream,” she says, placing the plate in front of chloe, “and here are the slices of raspberry cheesecake.”

she places the plate in front of you and damon is quick to grab it, sliding his piece of cheesecake onto one of the extra serving plates. chloe picks her fork up excitedly, slicing into the brownie and taking a small bite. her eyes roll as she tastes it, the richness of the chocolate has to be delectable. you watch as she cuts another small bite, this time more toward the center of the brownie where you can see it has small pieces of walnut in it.

she reaches over to cup justin’s jaw, squeezing a bit to get him to open his mouth so she can feed it to him. you ignore the slightly jealous feeling bubbling in your stomach as she brings it closer to his mouth, but you can’t get your words out. justin looks at her with a puzzled expression. he hadn’t been paying attention to her or what she ordered, so he has no idea what she’s about to feed him.

as if on instinct, your hand shot across the table and closed around her wrist, stopping her from feeding him. “s-sorry.. uh, justin is allergic to walnuts.” you say, lowering your gaze so you don’t make eye contact with her. she lets go of his jaw and he shrugs sheepishly.

“sorry baby.” she tells him, eating the bite for herself. “it’s okay.” justin replies. his eyes find yours for a fleeting moment, nervous energy is shared between you. damon watches the entire ordeal silently, passing glances between the three of you as he eats his dessert.

you pick up your fork and take a bite too, and the tartness of the raspberry dances across your tongue in a pleasant way. justin was right with his recommendation, this restaurant truly is amazing. damon and justin begin conversing again, and you stay quiet as you eat, listening attentively.

chloe chimes in a few times, earning laughs from both men with her unintentional humor. you slide the last bite of cheesecake on your fork and bring it to your lips, ready to enjoy it, when suddenly your fork is plucked from your hand. you look up to find justin eating the last bite straight off of your fork. yours.

while you’re on a double date. with other people.

your gaze quickly flips from justin to chloe and then to damon as you try to gauge their expressions. damon doesn’t seem to notice or care as he continues talking about football, and justin nods along with what damon is saying as if this ordeal was the most normal thing that has ever happened.

sure, you and justin are close enough to eat off each others forks and sometimes even drink from the same cup or can, but the fact that he did it on a double date baffled you. neither of the men at the table seemed to be giving it a second thought, but when your gaze shifts to chloe you can tell she’s perturbed in some way. her eyes are slightly squinted as she looks you up and and down, and then her gaze shifts to justin as she does the same to him.

you continue to sit quietly at the table, listening to the men talk. chloe stays quiet, too. the tension between the two of you feels almost palpable.

you would never want to come between her and justin, even if you did have feelings for him throughout all these years.

the rest of the time spent in the restaurant went by in a blur. eventually damon and justin stopped talking, realizing that you and chloe hadn’t shared a word, and they mutually decided that dinner should be over.

damon and justin split the checks and pay before each of you stand from the table to leave. when you make it outside you suck in a deep breath of the fresh air, you’ve felt like you were suffocating for the last fifteen minutes. all of you say goodbye to each other before you get into damon’s car, and chloe into justin’s.

the drive back to your house is quiet. you’re anxious, your throat feels tight and you know your cheeks must be incredibly pink. damon hasn’t even glanced at you and you’re afraid to say a word because if you do you’ll start crying.

he finally pulls into your drive and parks the car before looking at you for the first time since you left the restaurant. you wring your hands together before looking back at him, expecting the worst.

“that was fun, justin is a really nice guy.” his voice is genuine as he speaks to you, but you’re prepared for where this is going. “he loves you, y/n.”

you look at him with bewilderment as he continues speaking. you want to say something, but he holds up a finger to tell you to wait. “before you start with the whole ‘he doesn’t feel that way about me’ spiel, he does. i saw how you looked at each other all night. he doesn’t look at her like that.”

tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes as he speaks, and you turn your gaze from his so he won’t see. “you love each other, y/n. it’s okay. i had fun, i’m glad i met you.” he says, reaching over the console to grab your hand. he gives it a gentle squeeze and you look back up at him as he smiles at you. “i would like to be your friend, if that’s okay.”

“yeah, we can stay friends, of course.” you tell him. he lets go of your hand and gets out of the car, circling around to get your door and walk you up the front steps. before you can walk up damon pulls you in for a hug, which you reluctantly accept.

“it was nice meeting and going out with you, y/n. don’t be a stranger!” he says, and then he lets you go and gets back into his car, driving off down the street.

you let yourself in the house and lock the door behind you before collapsing on the couch. you don’t have the energy to move, to take off your shoes, or to even be worried about your makeup.

you just sit there, and you cry. you cry for all the lost time, if it is true and he does love you. and if damon’s wrong, and you do take the time to tell justin how you feel and he rejects you… well, you should go ahead and cry for that too. you cry for the only boy you’ve ever loved.

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

justin buckles his seatbelt and holds his foot down on the brake before backing out of his parking spot at the restaurant, ready to get home and into more comfortable clothing. chloe sits beside him silent, like she did for most of the dinner.

he spares a glance her way and notices her posture is rigid, her lips are pressed into a tight, thin line. justin reaches over to grasp her hand but she flinches away from his touch.

“are you okay?” he asks her, his tone concerned. “i’m okay. can you take me to my house, please?” she asks. her voice sounds small, she sounds upset.

“of course.” justin agrees. they hadn’t been dating long enough to make the steps to move in together, but chloe frequented his house often as long as he was home. he thought it was a bit strange that she wanted to go home, but he waited to question it.

when he pulled in her driveway and parked she was quick to jump out of the car and make her way inside. justin turned the car off and pocketed the keys before following chloe inside.

“um, is everything okay?” he asked, stepping into the living room. “no. we need to talk.” chloe said, sitting down on the couch. justin sat next to her and place a reassuring hand on her knee as he waited for her to speak.

“i think we should break up.”

justin is taken aback by her confession, but he doesn’t speak. he waits to hear her out. “i really like you, justin. and i think you like me. but you don’t love me. and you never will, because you love someone else.”

“what?” he asks, his tone incredulous. “you love y/n, justin. you know it, i know it, everyone on the planet knows it… except for her. i think you’re both idiots.” chloe smiles softly.

justin looks around the room nervously, waiting for chloe to speak again. “you’re both idiots because what you’ve been looking for has been in front of you the whole time. it was obvious you two should have been on a date. you both carried the conversation, you were doing silly impressions to make her laugh… you look at her like she’s your most prized possession, justin.”

he takes a deep breath before looking at chloe and finally speaking. “i’m sorry.” is all he’s able to mutter out.

“you don’t need to apologize. i’ll admit, i was upset at first. but on the drive i thought about it, and i just want you to be happy. and i figured someone needed to tell you that girl loves you, because if the two of you have been friends this long and you haven’t figured it out, i’m afraid you never will.” she laughs. “and god, i didn’t even know you were allergic to walnuts.”

justin laughs too before reaching over and pulling chloe into him for a hug. “thank you for telling me all that… and i am sorry. i really am.”

“it’s okay, justin. just get the girl, okay?” she says, shooing him out the door. he waves goodbye before walking off to his car and heading home.

when he arrives home he sits in the driveway pondering… did you really love him back? and if you have, how long? and what was he going to do?

he thinks of all the time he’s lost out on if it’s true, and you do love him back. he’d supressed the feelings for as long as he could remember because he never knew he had a chance - he never thought he’d be the one for you. and if he wasn’t he knew it’d break him, but all he wanted was your happiness.

all he knew right now was that he loved you, that you were the only girl he’d ever loved.

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

you don’t talk to justin for a week.

you’re afraid to. usually, he’s the first person you run to about anything, but since the subject matter is him, you feel like you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. you spend the entire week sad, crying into your coffee or whatever dinner you’ve chosen to eat after work (usually cereal), and watching lifetime movies that are guaranteed to make you feel worse - they make the longing in your chest burn.

justin finally texts you on friday night, and you’re afraid to open it. you let it sit unread for half an hour before your phone starts ringing on the end table. it’s justin, you know it is, but you’re afraid to answer. you pick up your phone slowly and slide your thumb across the screen to answer the call.

“hello?” you sniffle, picking up a tissue to wipe your nose. “hey y/n, you okay?” justin asks.

“yeah, lifetime movie, sorry. what’s up?”

“just wanted to see if you wanna come over and hangout? i haven’t heard from you all week, i miss you.” he says. you miss him too. but are you ready to see him after what happened?

against your better judgment, you agree to go over. after all, he is your best friend. if anyone can get you feeling better, it’s justin. you hang up the call and slide on your slippers before grabbing your keys and phone and heading over to his house.

you didn’t bother changing, you didn’t care what you looked like in front of him. he’d seen you sick as a dog before, he even held your hair when you puked a few times, so he could handle seeing you in an old ratty tshirt and sweatpants that were a few sizes too big.

there’s also no way he could ever judge you for having greasy hair.

you make the quick drive to his place and you almost panic and leave before calming yourself down and walking to the front door. it’s just justin. this is no big deal.

you knock twice but you know he already knows you’re there, and he swings the door open quickly before pulling you into a tight hug. physical affection is something you both enjoy, and you’ve missed him. you wrap your arms tightly around him and squeeze back.

justin laughs as he looks down at you. “sometimes i forget how small you are.”

“or maybe you’re sasquatch.” you say, giving him a shove. he lets go and steps aside so you can get in the door, and you waste no time in sliding your slippers off plopping down on his couch. you notice his house seems a little… different, but you can’t put your finger on it.

justin closes the door and makes his way over to you, acting like he’s going to sit on your lap. “don’t even think about it.” you tell him, bringing your legs up to your chest. he sits next to you and leans into your side.

“how was your week?” he asks you innocently. “it was horrible.” you reply. you share the most miniscule details with him when he tries pressing you further, because you’re too afraid to tell him what’s really wrong. justin listens intently either way, hoping to find something he can do to make you feel better.

“well how’s it been with damon?” he finally asks, and you freeze. justin moves so he can lay his head on your lap, and he straightens out your legs before doing so. your hand naturally finds its way into his hair, your nails raking along his scalp soothingly. he shudders.

“damon um… well. he didn’t wanna go on another date. it wasn’t because he didn’t like me, though. he just said… he could tell u didn’t like him.”

justin hums softly. “interesting.” he says.

“what’s interesting?” you ask him. “chloe broke up with me.”

“WHAT?” you shout, startling him a bit. “sorry… i mean, what? why? i thought you guys really liked each other?”

“well, she liked me a lot. and i liked her but… i don’t love her. she really helped me realize a lot of feelings i had that i’d been holding back.” he turns his head to look up at you and smiles and - oh. oh.

the look he’s giving you seems to be full of pure adoration, pure love. and you realize that he always looks at you like this.

tears start to form in your eyes again and justin sits up, this time pulling you into his lap. “you okay?” he asks, soothingly rubbing his hand over your back.

that’s why it seemed different - all her stuff was gone.

“i don’t know. what’s happening here?” you ask him, burying your face in his neck. “chloe helped me realize that i love you, y/n. i always knew it, deep down. but… i don’t know. i never really thought you felt the same.”

“damon said the same to me. that he could, um, tell we loved each other. are we just stupid?” you ask him, pulling away from his neck to look in his eyes.

“apparently two idiots in love.” he says. his hand finds the back of your hair and smooths over it softly before he pulls you into his neck again, crushing you in another hug.

“so where do we go from here?” you ask, enjoying his embrace. “i guess forward.” he jokes, poking at your sides. “together, of course, if you want that. as a couple.”

you can’t help the giddy feeling bubbling up inside you as he speaks. of course you want that, it’s all you’ve ever wanted. “i love you, justin.” you finally say, and being able to tell him to his face is like a dream come true. “i love you back.” he says softly. you meet his gaze once again and he looks nervous, but you aren’t sure why.

“what’s wrong?” you ask him sweetly. you softly touch his cheek, smoothing over it with your thumb. he doesn’t say another word, but he leans in and kisses you.

you feel dizzy, your heart is pounding incredibly hard against your chest. justin is over the moon too. your lips begin moving in sync, neither of you able to catch a decent breath as you devour each other hungrily. justin's hands find your waist and he pulls you into him further, and your arms circle around his neck.

he pulls away for a second before jumping right back in, awkwardly bumping his nose against yours. you both laugh before kissing again. this is truly what euphoria feels like. you don’t know how long you both sit there taking each other apart, whether it’s minutes, hours or days.

what matters is it’s happening. finally.

your hands trail down his biceps as he continues kissing you, leaving a trail from the corner of your mouth down to the exposed column of your throat. your breath hitches when his lips meet one of your most sensitive spots, right where your neck meets your shoulder. “you okay?” he says, sounding concerned.

“i’m nervous.” you whisper. his gaze is soft as he looks at you, half smile spreading across his face. “it’s okay,” he whispers back, “we don’t have to take this any further until you’re ready.”

you hug him again and kiss his cheek softly. “i want to. i’m just nervous.”

“there’s no reason to be afraid.” he assures you. “do you wanna…” he starts, cocking his head to the side and motioning toward the direction of his bedroom. you nod a simple yes.

he stands with you and leads you down the hall to his room, although you know very well where it is. you’ve spent countless nights here cuddled up with him.

he twists the knob slowly and pushes the door open before guiding you inside, and meeting your lips with his again. the kiss is soft and gentle, and he walks you back toward his bed without breaking contact. once you’ve reached the side of the bed he pulls away and reaches behind himself with one arm, grabbing his shirt and yanking it over his head in one swift motion.

uou hop up onto his bed and get cozy against the pillows as he crawls onto the bed too, leaning over you. you rake your nails over the planes of his chest as he presses a kiss to your forehead. his fingertips find the hem of your sweater and his gaze meets yours, waiting for your approval. you nod, and he slides both hands under it before lifting it over your head.

you’re wearing a simple white bra, but justin is looking at you like you’ve just descended down from heaven. you know he won’t ask you to take it off so you let what little bit of confidence you have flowing through your veins take over, and you quickly reach behind you to unclasp it.

justin sucks in a deep breath at the sight of you. you’re easily the most breathtaking woman he’s ever seen in his life, you have been since he first laid eyes on you… but seeing you like this… he feels like he’s died and made it to the afterlife.

you don’t hide your gawking either, his toned body has always been something you’ve enjoyed staring at whether he noticed it or not. “you’re so beautiful,” justin tells you, leaning in to capture your lips again. as he crawls over your body you can feel his length through his sweatpants, it lays hard and heavy over your leg. you shudder at the thought of it.

justin’s hands slide up your torso and he caresses your breasts softly before tweaking both of your nipples with his thumbs and forefingers. you arch upward into him and your body is covered in gooseflesh as you await his touch again.

you’ve never felt such pleasure and satisfaction in your life, and he’s only barely started. you’re sure that you’ve soaked through your panties and sweatpants at this point. he continues to grab at your chest as he kisses you and you moan out his name softly, causing him to rut against your leg. he needs you just as much as you need him, you can tell.

“justin, i’m ready. i want you.” you tell him, breaking away from his kiss to look into his eyes. he smiles down at you and raises his eyebrow, making sure one more time. “i’m ready.” you promise him. his hands grab the waistband of your sweatpants before pulling them down your legs quickly, along with your panties.

he pulls his off next and your mouth falls open, gawking at the sight in front of you. sure… justin was 6’6, everything about him was big… but holy shit. he is huge.

he smiles at you nervously before reassuring you, “it’ll be okay, i won’t hurt you. i swear.” you almost think you could faint at how cute and sexy he his. you tell him you don’t need any prep but he won’t allow it, and he uses the pad of his thumb to circle your clit quickly as he enters two fingers into you to work you open.

after a few minutes you’re ready, you can’t take anymore and you’re practically begging him to fuck you. he blushes at the sound of your moans, but his chest fills with pride knowing he’s making you feel so good. he pulls his fingers from your soaking heat slowly before wrapping his hand around his cock and giving it a few strokes. you let him situate your body how he needs to and he ends up with your ankles right at his shoulders as he prepares to push into you.

he’s lucky you’re flexible. his lips find yours again as he pushes in and your thankful because his kisses swallow your gasps. he moves slowly, inch by inch until he’s fully seated, and he waits a few minutes before moving so he doesn’t hurt you. when he finally pulls out and pushes back in, he moans loudly at how amazing you feel around him. you moan too, you’ve never felt so full in your life - and you’ve never felt so fulfilled either.

he moves to kiss you again and bumps his nose against yours again sweetly as his hands find yours and he tangles your fingers together. his movements are calculated, slow and methodical as he takes you apart, and unravels you in the very best way.

the room is filled with soft moans and labored breaths and the sounds of you kissing each other anywhere your lips can find. it doesn’t take long for you to reach your peak and tears prick at your eyes when you do. this is all you’ve ever wanted, and it’s beautiful, it’s magical. justin feels the same.

you warn him that you’re close and he tells you it’s okay, you can let go for him. “cum for me, it’s okay. i love you, y/n.” and that’s all it takes. his admission of love knocks you straight over the edge and into the thrashing waters, your orgasm taking over your whole body. he cums soon after, his body enjoying the feeling of you squeezing him as he rides out his high.

when he pulls out of you he stand quickly, running off to his bathroom to grab a warm wet towel to clean you both up. he didn’t bother asking if you were on the pill, he already knows every aspect of your life anyway.

justin cleans all your sensitive areas with the warm rag before wiping himself off and sliding back into bed with you, pulling the covers over your bodies.

“that was amazing.” you admit.

“yeah it was. you know how long we could’ve been doing that?” he laughs, and you giggle too. “i love you.” you tell him. “i love you too, so much. can i tell you something stupidly embarrassing, though?” he asks, and you roll over to face him. “oh god, what justin?”

“remember after we graduated, right after you turned eighteen and we had that pool party?”

“yeah, i remember.” you say. it was one of your fondest memories, actually. “that little yellow bikini you wore… i just thought i should admit to you now that i thought about you in that so much when i was jerking it that i thought my dick would fall off.”

both of you erupt in laughter, the admission funny and embarrassing, although endearing too. “that’s okay, remember right before we went to college and you were teaching me how to drive but you kept getting frustrated and yelling at me? i thought that was the hottest i’d ever seen you.” you say. he pulls you into his chest and kisses you softly.

“you’re getting me all worked up again, baby,” he laughs, kissing at your cheek toward your ear. “looks like we’re gonna have to go for round two.”

- - -

taglist: @slimshiesty @joeyburrrow @starsinthesky5 @joeyb1989

photos and dividers used are not mine, all cred to owners.

[incidentallysunny]

I Was Never There.

Death Island Leon x Reader

Real!Dad Leon

Dead dove warning.

13k word count. Proof read 3 times until I got to around 11k then I stopped worrying and just skimmed. Critique is welcomed and my skin is thick for it.

I’d like to appear in the tagz pls so here’s a warning. My writing is not ever meant to be taken literally and is just for the sake of writing f*cked up content that I enjoy writing. If you do not wish to read this, please do not as my intentions are not to offend or make you intentionally uncomfortable but if you choose to read- don’t be hateful. With that out of the way, extremely sensitive content and dead dove material ahead.

Specifically blood-related incest, smut, suicidal ideation, mentions of grotesque imagery, light mentions of gore in a hypothetical scenario, daddy-issues, age-gap, overall disturbing topics.

As far as smut specifically: this includes talking of public sex, mentions of oral, fingering, unprotected sex, cream-pie (wrap your willy irl pls) praise, dirty talk, any probably some other irrelevant shit I’m forgetting my b.

PROCEED if you read the above, are okay with it, and are mentally unwell like I am. Happy reading, it’s a long one.

The drive from your college town to where your home had been all your life was as expected. Nostalgia and homesickness being mixed in your gut like a can of paint in one of those weird machines at the hardware store that your dad would take you to. Speaking of dad, you hardly remember him. He was present for a short while, your mom always excusing his absence with work this and work that. He really did get busy, though. Almost dying several times. You still remember your moms panicked phone calls, her countless prescription drugs for the same problems you now suffer from, and her late-night bathroom breakdowns. Apparently he couldn’t get out of this job though. Some real fucked up government shit he was tied to, your mom explained. All you know about him is that he saved the president’s daughter. Whatever.

So yeah- a perfect life with a perfect set of parents. One being mentally driven through the dirt and the other that you haven’t seen in 8 years or maybe more. You can’t seem to remember if the last few times you saw your dad were daisied dreams or reality. Bastard has never FaceTimed or video called you, either. Dunno if he even had a phone capable of that. Either way, it must be for the better, because your grades had been sufficient without stressors on your mind. And we all know a low-effort dad would definitely be one. But perhaps he’d rather just be there in person. Older people are like that.

You grunted, trying to drag your over-packed suitcase up the steep suburban driveway before sighing and standing in place. Sure, you didn’t need to bring so much shit home, but would you really want to risk some bitch at college stealing anything from your quad-dorm?

Before you could think and figure out how you’d even get the plastic luggage up the pristine, hand-painted porch steps and inside (without scratching them up and having your parents on your ass about their perfect house having a flaw) a voice called out to you. Unrecognized and not ringing any of the bells in your head. (If there were any left)

“Hey there, sweetheart. It’s been a while, huh?”

You turned to see a middle-aged man, similar to the last memory of your dad that had been printing-pressed into your mind for safe keeping. He was just emerging from the front door, broad chest accentuated by a well-fitted T-shirt. You immediately felt angry that his tits were bigger than yours. Would probably look better with a bra, too.

You didn’t answer.

Fuck- nerves were getting the better of you. Your palms were slick with sweat and you didn’t know if it was from the building summer humidity or anxiety. Was this normal? No the fuck it wasn’t.

“Uhh.. dad?” You queried- almost certain the gorgeous man at the door was just a hotter, older version of your dad and not actually him. The fuck is wrong with you? You’re getting this worked up over your father? Did college drinking really rewire your brain to be this fucked or is it all of the anxiety meds? Maybe both. Maybe you’re just overwhelmed. Maybe it’s because you rarely saw him and have zero attachment.

“Yeah, it’s me. Your old man. Missed you, kiddo.” There’s a pause for a moment- because you’re not sure why he’s talking so casually as if you see each other every weekend- like it hasn’t been years and years since you’ve seen him.

“Don’t remember me,huh?” He laughs satirically- like you’re supposed to be so sure. It makes you slightly furious and the feeling of anger bubbles up again- replacing any strange thoughts you were having moments ago.

No, my apologies dearest dad. I totally recognize you despite having met you enough times to count on almost two hands.

But the better part of you that managed to exist underneath the scores of problems you had just replied in jest- like someone without said scores of problems. It was best to keep the peace for now.

“You look a little different… sorry.” Is that all you can manage? It’s pitiful the state that your sullied mind is in.

He chuckles, though, like he knows your’re right. The sound is more pleasant and striking when it’s genuine. Makes you feel damp in other areas than just your armpits (thank you, heatwave).

“I suppose there’s truth to that. But It’s alright, sweetheart. I know it’s been a long time. People change, right?” His eyes scan you in an undecided way.

“But you, shit. You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman. College treating you well?” His words sound a little huffed then, he’s clearly beating around the bigger issue with a stick. But him calling you beautiful and being all fucking sappy makes your face feel hot and sticky like it’ll melt off. Got you wanting to rip the hair from your scalp to hear him say it again.

“Please?” You called out gently- gesturing to the suitcase and ignoring any other question. You were very much overstimulated- having overexerted muscles in your arms by being a weak bitch about a crammed carry-on. Just get your ass out here and help your daughter, thanks.

He shook his head- again laughing hotly while looking down as he stepped off the porch- his brown bangs were peppered with greys and they brushed his face on one side, his hair somehow pornographic on its own. Christ. He looked like one of those men you saw on Viagra commercials that obviously didn’t actually need it. Even the sight of your perfectly trimmed lawn and faux-looking home completed the scene. Where was the camera?

He walked over to you- there was a slight stiff in his stride; like he had a bad back or something. Maybe he did. Almost dying was the likely cause for that. Serves him right for leaving you with issues on top of issues. Maybe you should stop being mean, you’re the one getting hot over your own father. Again- because of him. Circle back to square one.

Leon towered over your frame as he hinged at the hips, picking up the suitcase with ease- the muscles in his arm flexed with each small movement. His face was a tinge of smug with a mix of something else…satisfaction? Maybe he was just pleased he was able to lift it without rupturing a hernia. Jesus Christ, his veins. You wonder if he has them anywhere else. No- maybe you should be wondering about taking your ass to an inpatient facility immediately. A few screws are loose and you don’t exactly have the tools to tighten them.

“I guess college did treat you well. You’re here in one piece.” He says- cutting you thickly from your thoughts and answering his own question from earlier. His blue eyes are sweet and gently lined with signs of aging. Which only makes him hotter- just like the fiery pits of hell that await you.

You scoff.

“Well, it’s not like I went to war or something.”

“Still. It’s nice to see you, sweetheart.” The word rolls off his tongue again. Your insides are trapezing around in their own miniature, fleshy circus- you’re wishing you could stab yourself in the stomach to stop the swarm of butterflies that don’t even feel metaphorical anymore. You’re sure they’re real now.

He continues, though.

“I know I haven’t been around much in your life- this fucking job and-“ You stare up at him- glossy doe-eyes and stupid look on your face. An apology- or even an explanation from your daddy might be part of what your scrambled brain needs.

“Work kept me away, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about you every day. I’m sorry if I wasn’t there for you like I should have been. Shit… What I mean to say, is- things will be different. I’ve retired. Your mother wanted me to tell you over dinner later but I figured you’d be happy to know. I’m not the best at keeping secrets.” He jokes at the end, but how is that true in the slightest? He’s kept his job a secret for your entire life, so he clearly can’t be that horrible at it.

“Oh.” Leaves your lips quietly, ghosting over Leon and leaving him wondering if he said something wrong. But then he realizes it’s probably just overwhelming for you. The worst part of him thinks you hate him. A feeling overcomes you though, and you rush in to wrap your arms around his waist- hugging him tightly. You now wonder why he didn’t hug you to begin with. Maybe he wasn’t an affectionate guy.

He says nothing at first- he’s even more awkward than you are if it’s possible. But he’s trying. He sets down your suitcase before returning your hold. One arm comes around the back of you and the other is overlapped on top- a hand nestling on the back of your head. Seems he’s getting a bit emotional, too. The attention from him is nice, though.

When you make a small grunt as to wanting to end the hug, his hands linger on your shoulders and he smiles at you. You actually return to, not feeling anything horrid become of your thoughts right now. Whether it be anger or incestual lust.

—

Your dad pushes the front door open with one of his large hands encased on the knob. Hands you immediately find attractive, wondering if they’d feel nice scissoring your cunt open. You now begin to understand why your mom was getting suicidal over him possibly not returning home. You’d kill yourself over him too. But that’s too morbid- especially after the moment you just shared.

That’s already lost to you.

He shut the door firmly, sighing, then gestures to the stairs.

You went up first, self conscious about your backside being right in front of his view but he was your dad. Wouldn’t be looking at you that way. You’re just brain-rotted and have an ill opinion of men.

Your old bedroom still looked the same, basically. Just emptier and more hollow without your things. But the walls were still painted a babydoll-pink and lined with the few girlish decorations you left on the wall. No way you would have been caught dead with those in your dorm. Not unless you wanted to endure torment and bullying that’d lead you to jumping off the dormitory roof.

He sets your luggage down and takes a seat on your bed. A groan escapes him as he puts a hand on his lower back for a moment.

“I see this room hasn’t changed much, has it?” he muses, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Your mom and I had a blast putting it together for you when she was pregnant.”

Yikes. You almost feel guilt for both the incestuous thoughts and the fact you may have ruined your parents' marriage. Maybe that’s not true. It was his work- not you. After all, he’s insinuating how happy they were to have you brought into this world. Plus- they were fine. Never argued or anything.

“I’m sorry. I dont- I don’t know what to say.” You laughed awkwardly, throwing your hands slightly up by your side.

His face doesn’t drop, though. It seems he understands perfectly fine.

“It’s okay. We can start from scratch. Not talk about… your room or childhood stuff. I know it’s a sore spot for you, sweetheart.”

Wrong. It’s more like a festering wound with the rusted knife still wedged in it. The knife being Leon and the wound your daddy issues, by the way. And having no attachment to him as a father figure makes the attraction worse. Notably when he calls you any term of endearment. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

What the fuck. Was he sculpted by Satan himself as some kind of hell-on-earth punishment? Is this purgatory? Everything he did now was driving you up the wall like a roach- every movement and small flex showing a vein or bulge of muscle. And his arm hair didn’t help. Fucking Christ- shave it off or something. You don’t know how you’ll be able to stand it.

“Okay…. How does that work?” You cocked your head to the side a little, shifting your weight onto one leg. A nervous habit.

“Well- what do most parents do with their kids? We could go out for dinner, catch a movie, just… hang out. I’d like to spend time with my daughter, you know.”

Okay, so maybe he did care. That’s a start.

“Uh… all three?” You questioned, an eyebrow lifting along with the infliction of your voice towards the end of your sentence. You’re indecisive like your mom.

He smiled, lines and the corners of his mouth pressed. Happy. Something you heard wasn’t common for him, anyways.

“Of course. We can go out tomorrow, honey. Your mom just wants us to all have dinner together when she gets home. She missed you- not as much as I did, I bet.” He does that stupid fucking wink again. It makes you switch emotions and want to throw something at his head. Maybe your lamp. You feel bad, It’s not his fault you’re acting like a mental freak about him. You don’t even bother to fixate on the fact you’ll have to have dinner with your cunt of a mom. Okay, maybe that’s harsh.

“Okay.” You breathe out, looking around your room. Leon takes that as a cue to stand up from your old bed- the thing creaking from his weight and leaving an indent on your comforter.

“It’s a date, then. I’m going to start dinner. As much as I love your mother, she can be…scary.” He says, still rocking that pressed-in-cheek smile and cracking your door closed behind him. By the way, what he really meant was probably ‘bitchy’- not scary. But dad seems too kind to say that. He loves your mom.

You can breathe again without his presence. It was smothering, like you had to overperform. You find yourself rushing to your dresser mirror to check how you looked. Hair looks great, face too- though a little tired from college over-studying and then driving 4 hours home with no break.

You might as well write ‘whore’ on your mirror with lipstick. Or a marker- since that’s a more permanent reminder with the way you’re acting. But part of you wanted to know what he thought of you- how he perceived you. For now though, it doesn’t matter. Had barely been 15 minutes since you arrived. You turn your attention to your suitcase and push it over flat, unzipping it before the teeth give out and some of your things spill from inside.

You had less than a sufficient amount of energy to care about it being broken now- so you just put your things away quickly before plopping onto the bed and indulging your senses with the smell of the floral detergent your mom always used on your sheets.

—

It’s some time later when you’re abruptly awoken by your moms manicured hand shaking you awake by the shoulder.

“I can’t believe you’re sleeping when you could be spending time with your father. He was excited for you to be home.”

‘Way to wake me up.’ You thought. She was always having a stick up her ass about this kind of thing. Or anything, really..

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Besides, we’re going out tomorrow to do a bunch of stuff.” You argue sleepily, sitting up as your back aches with your vision still adjusting. She cuts on the lamp, sizzling your retinas.

Her face perks up but is pleasantly surprised.

“Oh, okay..” silence.

“I’m sorry, honey. It was just a long day at work and I’m just over-the-moon for you two to finally have some daddy-daughter time.”

You wrinkle your face in disgust, but not fully disgust since you were just fawning over your hot dad earlier. Maybe daddy doesn’t sound so bad.

“Ew- mom. He’s just my dad. I’m not five.” She laughs, waving her hand off at you.

“Well anyhow- come down for dinner, will you? He put in a lot of effort to cook something for us.”

You cursed under your breath and straighten out your shirt- hoping she wouldn’t bitch about it being slightly wrinkled from you sleeping in it. You seat yourself at the table- adjacent from your mother sitting at the end. She’s already changed out of her office clothes and sure enough, here comes your daddy dad from the kitchen with utensils.

“Sorry ladies- almost forgot these.” He laughs, placing down everyone’s set before seating himself next to you. Fuck.

“You know- your father has only been home a few months and he’s already shown the extent of his memory loss.” She jokes, giving him a loving yet teasing look that makes you want to vomit. And yet jealousy curls up like a cat in your lap, wanting to be lavished with attention from you. The metaphorical jealousy pounces off your lap as you’re met with your dad’s hand on your denim-clad thigh. It’s an innocent gesture but you want to his hand to go further than just sitting politely.

“She’s right, but I can be useful otherwise.” He’s bantering back with her- and you realize he’s making an innuendo when you look over at his face. But it’s weird that he’s saying it while his digits cradle your thigh so gently.

“Gross.” You take a bite of your food- momentarily shocked that a dad of any sort could make such a pleasant meal, especially when he’s spent such little time doing domestic duties.

“Oh honey- you’re grown. We’re just teasing each other.” Your mom nods to Leon, taking a bite off of her fork. His hand slides off of your thigh and he grabs his whiskey glass to take a proper sip.

Jeez, he drinks that shit like its water. No grimacing. No face was made when he swallowed it. Just a guy thing you suppose.

Dinner drags on- the both of them forcing you to talk about your less-than-thrilling college experience. No mom, no boyfriend. No dad, I’m not failing. No you two, I’m not having unprotected sex- fuck off.

After that eventful meal and conversation where your parents basically eye-fucked each other over dinner, you’re left to clean up the mess while your mom gets ready for bed. She has to leave for work early in the morning- as usual. Guess she’s going to take your dad’s spot for the absent parent now that you’re grown and traumatized full and proper.

-

Sleep came and went- leaving you to trudge out of bed and do your morning routine. It felt out of place trying to do it back at home- but it was also a sentimental feeling to be doing just that.

Leon is already in the kitchen, shirtless and cooking. Seems impractical, but holy fuck. You’d gorilla glue your eyelids open just to not miss a single second of what you’re seeing. Maybe that wasn’t needed- because you've been staring long enough that your eyes prick with tears. You remind yourself to blink and you seat yourself at the high-top, the stool swiveling slightly when your bottom meets the material.

“Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?” He asks, turning to look at you over his shoulder. His traps are distracting you. You want to chew your fingernails past the nail bed- bite a finger off too. You can’t stand it. For a moment- the way he talks to you- you’re pretending you’re not his daughter. And then a moment later, you’re not being delusional anymore.

“Mhm.” You mumble sleepily- wishing you’d have stayed in bed longer. But piercing morning light, lack of blackout curtains, and the chirping of birds outside made that idea inconceivable. Leon chuckled to himself- turned away from you.

You decide to scroll through your phone for a moment’s time before he slides a plate to you from across the island.

“Breakfast a la Leon.” He says- clearly being silly. Corny as fuck, anyways.

“You’re old.” You snort, setting aside your phone and grabbing a fork to pick at your food until he turns away again. You didn’t enjoy the idea of having a hot, shirtless man watching you eat.

He shakes his head, sitting down next to you at the island.

Christ. Fucking go away. It’s actually enraging now.

You want to scream at him- it’s irrational and crazy- but you do. Screaming at him and being sent away to a ward sounds more appealing than the anxiety crawling up your spine like a horde of fire ants. Potentially- just like the butterflies- they’re real too.

He seems undisturbed as he settles- taking a bite. You do the same- trying to ignore the fact he's so close you can nearly feel his arm hair touching you every second or so. He breaks the silence after a moment.

“So- after this, I’ve got a whole day planned out. Mall, movies, and dinner. Sound good?” You nod, a soft ‘mhm’ reverberating on the roof of your mouth.

He finishes before you and makes his way upstairs- the occasional pain in his back unmistakeable every few steps. And yet he wants to take you to the mall to walk around? You didn’t even know how to feel about a day with your dad. What’s a dad? What’s daddy-daughter bonding? That’s lost to you- well- more like it was never even discovered. Not even Columbus could have ventured out and conquered it.

Since he’s no longer in the room, you hastily eat the rest of your breakfast before you discard the plate and fork into the way-too-elaborate dishwasher your mom had installed (you totally didn’t spend 10 minutes trying to turn it on).

Back in your room, you settle on a simple, totally not underlyingly slutty outfit. Shorts and a crop top. Can never go wrong with that. It’s just soft/core prom enough for an outing with your dad. When you leave your room- Leon is just headed down the stairs. He turns to look at you, his smile is as jovial as it has been since you’ve seen him. For a moment though, you think you catch his eyes landing on your exposed legs- but you know you’re just crazy. You’re the one lusting after him, not the other way around. Your dad isn’t abnormal like you. His head is on correctly- even if it’s been battered and spun on his shoulders throughout the years.

“Ready?” He asks, stopping in place to wait for you. You nod stupidly, breaking from your trance to follow him in a descent down the stairs.

He’s dressed similar to how he was yesterday- jeans and a t-shirt that should be considered indecent. If you were your mom, you’d beg him to wear something that doesn’t highlight every curve and dip of his chest. Hell, if you were your mom, you’d never let him go outside. Too risky. But you’re not your mom. You’re just unusual.

As a perfect man does, he opens the door for you. Then opens the SUV door, allowing you in before shutting it behind. You’re sure you've never met a guy that does that in real life, but maybe it was a ‘you’ problem and not the guy. Who knows.

When he gets in, he cranks the vehicle only for rock music to start playing from the radio- making the corners of his mouth dimple with a pleased look. Really are the simple things for him. As for you, you’re suffocated in a Hellish torment by both his presence and the expensive scent of cologne and leather seats combo.

The ride isn’t long, nor bad. Albeit you two only talk here and there so he can focus on the road- and so you can focus on not dying (he’s not a perfect driver, but not terrible either). Just enough to keep your nerves teetering between a light anxiety attack and full blown panic.

You’re relieved to get there alive. Maybe not. Your thoughts have you thinking suicide may be your only option for now disgusting they are. And it only gets worse when he helps you down from the step up of the SUV- a hand on your exposed waist and the other on your shoulder. It’s harmless. Just a dad being gentlemanly. He was shaped and carved out in that perfect, chivalrous image with only a mallet and hammer. No reason to make it weird.

Inside the mall is a tad busy- the perfect amount to be comforting. You feel a bit more at ease in a public setting since you can now focus on anything but your dad’s chest. As long as he doesn’t require eye contact or talk to you, that is.

He looks around, arms crossed. It’s almost whorish. He has to know his arms look good. Or that his everything looks good. The fuck.

“So…” He cranes his head to the side, bangs brushing over his nose for a moment. The way he looks around makes his Adam’s apple and neck muscles a little more prominent. A perfect, stubbled spot to attack with your lips.

“What do you feel like doing first, kiddo?”

You. Is what you want to say.

He looks back to you, smiling down amused. He seems genuinely happy to be able to take you out. But really- his face is making you nauseous. Obviously not because it’s bad. But because it’s good-bad. Too good it’s bad.

“Uhh… “ you look away from him, scanning the entrance area and looking at any signs. Almost like an escape.

“How about new clothes maybe? Seems like something got ahold to the other half of your pants anyways.” He nudges you with an elbow, gesturing to your shorts with his head.

So he probably did look at your legs earlier. Maybe not in the way you think, though.

You glare at him.

“Seriously?”

Leon puts his hands up in defense. He’s always on the defense in life anyways.

“Joking, joking. You’re…grown.” His forehead lines crease when he raises his brows. You did get rather annoyed at his comment, however.

“I could always buy some even shorter.” You spit sarcastically.

“Yes- because every father wants to walk around with their daughter who has her ass out.” He’s quick to remark, this time he seems grumpier when he talks. Sorta like he’s uncomfortable with the conversation. Or that he’s mad.

“Sorry my legs make you so uncomfortable. I guess I should’ve left them at home.” The back and forth here could go on forever between you two but he catches you off guard.

“Shit- no. It’s not that- ‘s just you’ve got nice legs. Can’t have these…shitheads eying down my little girl. I may be old, but I can fight when I need to.”

You know he meant his words innocently enough, but the fact that he said nice legs has you giddy inside. Same feeling when your crush calls you pretty. Yeah- that sorta feeling. And his little girl. It has a ring to it. Could even legally change your name to it so that he can call you by it more often. Maybe he’ll even let you jump on his dick right away.

Your face is pure rose-shaded. A perfect, neutral shade to make your embarrassment pop on your skin. You’re sure it’s visible to him, too. Your mom always teased you about how blotchy it would get when you were humiliated. Particularly when she would tell awkward stories about you at family dinners. Bitch.

“What’s wrong? Don’t be pissed at me, sweetheart. I was just teasin-“

“It’s not that.” You interrupt- heart thumping into your rib cage. If it doesn’t stop, or you don’t stop your word-vomit, it might crack a rib or four. Probably more. Better have hospital bill and therapy money ready, dad.

“Then what’s the matter? I just want us to have a good time together. I’m not trying to upset y-“

“You said I have nice legs.” You’re quick to cut him off again.

“And…?” He trails off, cocking his head to the side like he’s confused. Because he is confused. You stare off to the side- eyes glued to the fountain. Maybe you could go drown yourself in the penny-flavored water that you guarantee hasn’t been changed out since you were still the unlucky sperm in your dad’s ball-sack.

“I like that. You saying that.” You speak a little lower now- afraid someone will hear. Or because the tinnitus is so loud in your ears. What you’re getting at is almost clear now. Or at least clear enough.

Leon’s expression is taken aback but still confused to an extent because he’s not even certain what you’re saying. Though, he has an idea.

“Oh- uh. Okay. Sweethea-“

“Holy fuck- stop calling me that. You’re not making this easy. Wanting to fuck you. I know- I sound mental.” You spill it out, guts on the floor and the sword still in hand. Holy shit. Just told your dad you want to fuck him. You could have backtracked- fucking dumbass. You won’t be shocked if he packs his bags and leaves off again tomorrow.

He’s silent for a moment.

“Okay- clearly I wasn’t around enough. I get that. But I mean- fuck.” He runs his hand through his hair, looking around. Probably thinking the same thing about the fountain that you did. Still- he looked hot while having a crisis and contemplating immediate suicide. He paces while your nerves are being electrocuted in your body. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

“Just- sweetheart, no. None of that’s.. I can’t.” He starts, turning back to you. It seems he can look you in the eyes now. So maybe he’s not entirely disgusted by you. His face isn’t contorted with disgust, so there’s a chance. Yeah, you’re off your rocker now. You know.

“Look- let’s not talk about this. C’mon. Let’s go catch a movie like I promised.” He starts walking- leaving you standing in a puddle of shame and embarrassment for a moment before stopping to let you catch up.

Luckily- the theater is joined to the mall. It’ll be a short walk.

—

Leon is lax on the couch until he hears the crunchy sound of tires on concrete. You’re home. Despite his shitty back, he's huffing as he gets up fast and is already opening the door. The air is hot as it greets his skin and he watches you struggle with your suitcase through the heat-haze that spans over the distance.

He calls out to you- making your head snap in his direction. Your face is that of awe and confusion. You don’t seem to immediately recognize him- okay. He gets it. It’s been a while. Nevertheless, you’re beautiful. He’d seen pictures of you from your mother, but he’s in awe just as you are. Though, he doesn’t think that highly of himself so he often wonders if you’re even his kid. Couldn’t have made something that perfect, in his mind. He helps you with your bag and follows you to your room. But your demeanor around him is noticeably mousey. At first, it doesn't seem like much. You’re just getting used to him.

Plus, Leon knows he can come off intimidating. Sometimes. But for him, he’s got a good eye and his job has led him to being able to read even the tiniest bits of body language. Doesn’t take him long to see how you’re worming around shyly- subconsciously smoothing your hair down and biting at your lip. Same way your mom acted around him before they started dating. But again- maybe it’s just in his head. Leon’s been wrong a time or two.

A better man would have left it alone. Leon gets that. But an innocent thigh squeeze at dinner can help him test his theory. A thigh squeeze that’s under the guise of friendly, fatherly touch. You tense- he can hear your small, sucked in breaths as long as his hand is there, along with heat radiating off your body like a wildfire. If wildfires could be horny college-aged daughters with daddy issues, that is.

The idea disgusts him. Because he should feel disgusted and just kill himself. Where did these thoughts come from? He even has the urge to let his hand wander other places. Bets that you have a cute pussy. No matter what it does or doesn’t look like, it’s yours and he knows it's cute. He’d give you two thick digits in your hole (three if you allow him) and have his tongue kitten-lick your clit.

“There we go. Good girl.” Is what he envisions saying before diving back in for a mouth full of you. Girls like you love being praised. Especially by their estranged father-figure or a middle aged man. It’s all the same. He’d pry the daddy issues right out of you with his dick. It’s long and fat enough, and solves all of his matters properly. Your mom is in a bad mood? His dick will fix that. He can’t sleep? His dick will fix that. His daughter is a horny freak and begging for it? His dick will fix that, too- obviously.

It’s only when your mom makes some stupid fucking joke about his memory loss that he snaps back into reality and he loses the momentum he had going for an erection. Which is good. Maybe thinking about fucking your mom will make him normal again. So he drops a quip right back- something about… being useful. Yeah. Again, his cock is useful. Your mom bites at his words, but you’re annoyed and disgusted with his comment- especially with his hand on you while he says it.

Trust me, baby. Much rather be splitting you open than having performative, mandatory spousal sex. It’s like a switch flipped. He’s not interested in your mom. Should’ve had that realization years ago, even. Technically he did. He’s just now saying it in his head finally. Mostly he was exhausted because she had nothing to do with Leon even when he was home (unless it was for dick). Too bad he was a golden retriever following after her every step like a good doggy. Marriage did that to a guy. He just did what he was supposed to. Kept the lights on, blew out her back occasionally, listened to her complain, and took care of the lawn when he could. Easy enough. That’s what men do, right? He doesn’t really know what being a man is, honestly. Thanks, Major Krauser. Anyhow- he chokes down his food with a smile. The need to upchuck after everything he just thought up is a given.

He takes the liberty to fuck your mom later that night as promised per (faux) flirting over dinner. He has her face down-ass up, though. For… imagination’s sake. At least fucking a pussy and imagining you is better than his hand and imagining you. Or so he tells himself. Call it killing two birds with one stone, satisfying your mom and quelling his own desires. And it’s not hard to imagine any of it, because you look so much like your mother. He lies awake for a short while after- contemplating his existence and fucked up thoughts. He’s still holding back vomit and the urge to grab his gun from the nightstand and off himself all over the wallpaper, while in the process, traumatizing your mom. After an hour of this- he figures it’s fine, men think of perverted or weird shit sometimes. Jerk off to weird shit too. He hasn’t technically done anything morally wrong… sort of. It’s denial. At least he’s good at playing the part of a genuine, loving father. Because he is! He loves his family. Always has!

Spending time with you would make you happy, him happy, your mom happy. He loves you dearly. All is great. He’s swearing that his brain won’t be smoothied in his skull by tomorrow. It’ll be normal and function rationally.

But Leon wakes up with the thoughts being real as ever while he stretches an arm out to feel around for your mother- bed empty since she leaves at the ass crack of dawn. Leon had just missed her leave, he’s still getting used to sleeping in ever since he retired.

He gets up and heads downstairs- immediately starting breakfast to take his mind off his…mind. Breakfast is his favorite meal of the day, it makes him feel better to indulge in it right now. Though, he doesn’t bother putting a shirt on at any point- just rocking those generic, green and blue tartan patterned pajama pants. Cooking shirtless is weird- but he’s hungry and part of him wonders if he’ll get to see your priceless face when you walk into the kitchen. He shakes his head- telling himself that he just had this talk with himself last night. None of that shit.

He was right about one thing. God, he could make a killing in betting. He sees your reflection behind him in the small window above the counter but you didn’t know that. Just stood, gawking. It’s okay. He’s observative, you’re not. You’re his dumb little girl. Dumb in the way you shift in your stool next to him when he sits down, dumb how you hold your breath when he’s near, dumb how you can’t even eat next to him, and dumb how your thighs seem to wriggle when his arm ‘accidentally’ brushes yours. Oh, he’s definitely not wrong.

Still- he knows when to back off. He hounds down his food, before you even make a dent in your plate, and heads upstairs to shower. He’s analyzing every detail of himself, contemplating how he can get under your skin the most- his knuckles gripping the sink with distaste for himself. Because it’s wrong. He’s acting like a teenager. This is a date with his daughter, not his highschool girlfriend.

Leon skips over shaving his face. Likes to keep it a little grown out but not too much so. Just in case he gets the chance to eat (your) pussy or kiss (your) a neck. Then comes the Dior ‘Sauvage’ body wash he never failed to keep with him. He takes pride in smelling good if anything. And this particularly expensive wash, plus the cologne, was his lifeline for that. When he traveled for work- the D.S.O. better have god damned had some sent to his room as courtesy. Ever since Raccoon City- he’s adamant about not smelling less than great. He swears he can still smell the sewer on himself sometimes, even if it’s not really there.

His hair routine was even more extensive and involved a weekly hair mask. Hey- it wasn’t wrong for a guy to have nice hair. It paid off.

Heat protectant, blow dry, hot-comb to get any cow licks or fly-aways he might have- though it’s unlikely- and a little spritz of biotin spray to keep it healthy and shiny. All of that in reasonable time, too. And no- it's not weird for him to spend longer on his hair than your mom does.

Besides, you seem to appreciate the way he looks when you come out of your bedroom- watching him descend the stairs. Leon looks back at you- eyes on your legs momentarily then coming back up. He knows it was a quick look- quick enough to make you question it. You do. Very much. Still, taking you out in public wearing those shorts is less than ideal for him, but he’s the one who needs to be watched closely. Aforementioned, Leon’s great at pretending. Pretending to be normal. Pretending to not have ulterior motives. Pretending to not want your legs on his shoulders as he-

“All ready?” He interrupts himself here. Can’t let his thoughts keep going too far. Even if he does want to rest a hand on your leg while he drives. Or veer off the road and into a tree so that he can’t continue to be disgusting. He’d die with the image of being a good, wholesome dad in everyone’s mind. And if you did or didn’t die too, at least you would have died not having been fucked silly by your old man. He manages to not kill you both, though. He wasn’t planning to- his driving is just ass. He knows whiskey with his breakfast isn’t ideal but when you’re a recovering alcoholic plus post traumatic stressed failure of a father, it helps.

Can’t complain though since he gets to put his hands on you while helping you out of the vehicle.

Now you’re both in the mall- Leon questioning what exactly he’s supposed to do now. He hasn’t been to one since… he doesn’t have enough fingers for that. But you’re seemingly calm. Until he makes a stupid joke about your shorts. Sure. As much as he’s thinking about ripping a hole in the crotch to fuck you cause he’s impatient and stupid- he said it out of genuine concern.

He still has fatherly instinct. Some sick bastard could get a glimpse of your exposed legs and go jerk off to it or take a photo. Ironic coming from him right now. The call is coming from inside the house but the dad is too busy fiending after his own daughter to answer.

You’re royally pissed. He knows it. Women don’t like having it insinuated that they’re dressed like a whore. Big whoop, though. Someone has to say it. Then you blindside him. Big, needy eyes and saying you like it when he tells you your legs are nice. Then something about how you want to fuck him. Christ. What the fuck. He’s not sure if this is some kind of screwy set-up or you’re actually just so slutty that the only dick you’ll accept is your dad’s. He’s rocking a semi now. Would be a full hard-on if he weren’t in public but his head spins cause all the blood went to his loins too fast.

Leon doesn’t accept the advances yet. Not now, anyways. He’s mortified. He really thought he had himself going in delusion about how you were behaving- but he was actually right. And now being confronted with it… he’s fucking scared - that’s for sure. Hmm. Be a morally acceptable human or fuck your needy, whore daughter silly? He shakes his head and lets out an exhale.

That question needs some thought. No, it doesn’t. He knows better than to do any of that shit, right? He takes a moment to start walking while you follow along shamefully- the two of you headed to the theater. A movie is perfect. Don’t have to talk or anything. No interacting, really. But how the fuck is he just going to forget what you said? Sure, he’s been having questionable thoughts but they’re just thoughts. Your words, however, spoke it into existence. Like a fucked up, frankenstein’s monster of father-daughter reality.

Don’t mind us, everyone. Daughter’s got it real bad for me but I’m just going to take her to the movies and pretend it’s normal. Reality was distorted for him ever since the existence of zombies and BOWs anyway.

He lets you pick the movie- telling the attendant that he needs two tickets. It’s a horror movie. Of course. Something to trigger his PTSD, maybe. Then he could say anything he did after that was just accidental. A mental slip. He goes to fork over the $60 for tickets and popcorn- god, when did shit get so expensive? As he’s pulling out the cash, he sees you give him a look like you want to say something. His mind is racing looking at you- it makes him nervous.

“Uh.. what about candy?” You ask, looking away from him and at the display.

“What? Sour worms?” He questions you, laughing. Not in a mean way- but because it’s your favorite. So insignificant but he remembers. You were still a kid when he and your mom took you to see some milked out children’s movie that was a part of an entirely too long series. He bought you two boxes of sour worms then. You were a weird kid, though. The worms were split into two colors, and you’d always bite them down the middle and make him eat the side you didn’t like. But he’d do it. Gladly.

You nod, a little befuddled that he’d remember something like that. Cute. Too bad your weird ass just told him you wanted to fuck him about 15 minutes ago. So not entirely a cute moment.

“Oh- and two boxes of Sour Worms, please.” He adds, now pulling out a little more cash.

You both respectively grab your own drinks- Leon with popcorn in tow and you, your worms and cherry soda. His hands are full but he manages to flash the movie ticket between his index and middle finger to the usher, who then ripped it in half and pointed to the left end of the hallway.

You both don’t say anything, but you immediately race to the very top row like a child once inside the screening. Leon swears under his breath as he follows you like a geriatric snail. If a snail could have lumbar issues. He’s able to make it up the stairs to you quite some time after and takes the seat next to you that’s closest to the aisle. Safety and all that jazz.

Previews are already playing so it gives him peace of mind to not address the awkwardness between the two of you. Your soda is in the cup holder that’s separating you both, but you lean over to take a sip, cheeks hollowed out while you drink. Of course Leon looks over, fuck.

Pretty little lips wrapped around the straw until you pull off of it with a satisfied sigh. Cause you were thirsty from anxiety- like someone shoved gauze and cotton into your mouth.

He shifts in his seat and looks back at the screen. He doesn’t even know if you’re doing it on purpose. You’re not, however. He’s just a perverted dickhead.

Time passes and not a single soul has come into this screening. It’s Monday at 11am, after all. Who the hell would come watch a horror movie at this time? No one except two fucking weirdos. It’s making Leon’s nails dig into the armrest with the other set scratching at his jeans.

The movie doesn’t start off bad, to Leon’s shock. He’s actually enjoying it and you seem just as entranced, pulling open the box of Sour Worms without looking down. You do wind up looking down, however, to bite one in half because it just so happened to be a blue and orange combo, and you hated the orange side.

“Here.” Leon turns to look at you- your eyes coming up to meet his blue ones that are oddly blue enough to the point that any light from the screen makes them pop. Pretty.

“The orange half. I know you don’t like them.” His voice is husky and low since the speakers are blaring some generic string-quartet horror piece. He nods down to the half chewed candy in your palm.

You pinch it between your fingers, bringing it to his mouth as your cunt throbs. He was expecting you to hand it to him, but the way you confidentially yet instinctively brought it to his lips isn’t entirely unwelcome. The emptiness of the theater makes it that way. Allows room for incest of whatever. He opens his mouth for you, and you go to place the sour treat on his tongue. His lips gently close around it, before he grabs your wrist to hold your arm in place. A hold gentle enough to tell you that if you want to snatch your hand away- feel free to do so. But you don’t. And you won’t. He knows.

Candy in cheek, he brings your fingers to his lips and nurses your knuckles with a kiss before puppeteering your hand with his larger one, working each digit so that he can equally suck each one clean. You’re amazed, aroused, and alarmed all at the same time. Amazed because he looks so gorgeous sucking on your fingers. Aroused for the obvious reason. Alarmed because duh, he’s your father and things can only go further from here.

Leon places your hand back onto the arm rest between you, chewing the halved sour worm now. As if he didn’t just give you the most visually appealing form of sexual affection in the history of womankind. The dryness of your mouth returns and you take another sip of your Cherry soda. Maybe you can drown yourself in it. No, stupid. That’s what the public bathroom toilets are for.

Right before you set the plastic cup into the cupholder again, Leon speaks.

“Ah, ah. Put it over there.” You don’t even hesitate to listen. Record timing for you doing anything. You don’t even know why you followed his instructions so quick.

“Good girl.” His words send lightning of excitement down your nerves and straight to your clit as he pushes the armrest between you upwards and out of the way. Because that’s a thing, for some reason. It’s like theaters want people to fuck, give head, and spread their diseases everywhere. And why does he know they move? You don’t even want to question it. Maybe he’s just a knowledgeable guy.

“Come here, honey. Let daddy kiss that pretty mouth.” Fucking Christ. This can’t be real. Doesn’t matter, ‘cause again, there’s zero hesitation on your part. Leon likes that. A woman that can follow orders. He’s so used to taking them, not giving them. And your mom isn’t one to listen to other people. Either way, if this goes south, Leon can always just off himself. He wasn’t around much so what difference would it make if he was permanently gone? The reassurance of being able to log out forever gives him courage here. It’s rational.

You scoot over since you’re free from any barriers or restrictions, and he puts an arm over you. You swear you almost hear your skin sizzle from the contact. You’re not a witch- and as far as you know, he’s not water. Even if he gets you wet. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek and swipe a thumb over your bottom lip- teasing you.

“D-dad.” You stutter a protest- cringing that you sounded the way you did just now. Maybe you shouldn’t be embarrassed ‘cause he’s your dad- but you are embarrassed ‘cause he’s hot. You can’t even figure out why you wanna back out suddenly. Probably because the idea was better than betraying your mom and knowing yourself as someone who fucks their dad. Anywho- didn’t he say something about kissing you? Cause he’s not even doing as promised.

Your dad leans in, his free hand is now on your neck and angling it just to show you how easy he can manhandle your body. He plants a kiss on your earlobe before saying anything.

“What’s wrong, baby? Can’t go giving daddy blue-balls now. It’s not polite to start things you don’t wanna finish.”

Leon’s words simultaneously gross you out and turn you on in a self-deprecating, disgusting kind of way. Not to mention he’s literally contradicting himself since he would gladly eat the half of the sour worms you didn’t want to finish- therefore entirely enabling you to start things you couldn’t finish. Hm. That must explain a large portion of your life, then. And besides all do that, doesn’t the know blue-balls is some kinda stupid myth or whatever?

His thumb falls down your lip and traces your jawline with intentional slowness while his eyes look over your face appreciatively- but it also seems as if he’s looking for or at something specific.

You get the courage to speak, air sucked fully into your lungs.

“Sorry, daddy.” The fuck is wrong with you? You could have said anything but that. It’ll only spur him on. But you want that, obviously.

He smirks, lips pressed together as the corners of his mouth do that same, pitted thing they do that you like so much. Must go hand in hand with how his chin is also dimpled. It’s sexy. But little do you know, it’s one of the reasons he keeps his stubble. Doesn’t feel like having his butt chin on display to the world- even if every woman that’s ever laid eye on him sees it and wants it buried in their cunt.

“That’s my girl. Didn’t even have to be around much to teach you that, did I?” Leon queries, grabbing your chin to crane your head just so that he can plant his lips onto your neck. His other hand is on your knee, unmoving. You want it to move, though. God- you’re sure whatever higher power is in the great sky is throwing up right now, moments away from pressing the reset button. The same higher power will make a new rule on humanity.

No free will and absolutely no incest. Yeah. Probably should have written that into the books ages ago, one fears.

You fidget as he kisses your neck, stubble scratching your epidermis yet tickling all the same.

“Not gonna answer me, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your throat, the neck kiss he gives it uses a bit of tongue- making your body jolt. “I know your mother taught you manners.”’

You mumble something pathetically apologetic, hands gripping the fabric over his shoulders. Hopefully your mom won’t notice his shirt being stretched out there- cause she notices everything.

“N-no, daddy. I knew it on my own.” You huff, that hand you wanted him to move is slowly doing so- fingers dragging along your inner thigh as if everything he’s doing to you is purposefully meant to be some kind of forewarning. But for what, exactly?

“Such a smart girl. Get that from daddy, you know it?” Ok, cocky…

Leon kisses his way back up your neck, jawbone, and then your cheek. It’s sweet- if being lavished with saccharine, sexual and inappropriate attention from your dad could be sweet.

You nod, feeling his grip loosen from your chin and now sliding up the back of your neck to tangle in your hair, threading it. He’s slow and deliberate- part of you wishes he’d not give you time to think about your actions. Not that you can really think anyways. Your heartbeat is muddled in your ears and the movie is still rumbling through the speakers while someone gets murdered on screen. Lucky them.

The hand on your thigh presses firmer into the skin just below the edge of your shorts, a silent telling for you to keep your attention on him.

“Sorry baby, daddy got distracted. Just so pretty.” He must be able to tell you’re impatient because he kisses your cheek (with an oddly dark undertone to it) before slimming the distance between your lips. He pauses right when they touch and you’re breathing in the taste-turned-scent of the sour worm you fed him earlier. Sugar and that weird orange flavor that is only specific to orange candy. You’re obviously not a fan, but it suits him.

You don’t get any time left to process before it’s a full on kiss- well, make out, actually. It’s slow. You can’t recall being kissed like this, ever. Normally it’s straight to tongue with guys, and not in, like, the good way. The ‘having an eel invading your oral cavity’ kind of way. Eugh.

But your dad’s tongue does brush yours, tastefully. You can actually feel the texture and it’s easy to tell there’s an erection fueling his actions- but not so much so that it takes over the whole kiss.

He uses your hair to pull you closer, teeth clashing momentarily. Not exactly the best feeling but everything else envelops your senses to the point that it’s only a flash of a moment. Your thigh is neglected by his touch, hand moving up and around onto your backside. He gives a squeeze to the fat of your ass and groans against your mouth before pulling you into his lap- legs folded on either side of his thighs.

You break the kiss, looking over your shoulder and to where the entrance is- the exit sign casting a nearby glow that gives you anxiety..

“Can’t- we’ll get caught.” You pant, that weird feeling that’s the grotesque love child of nervousness and excitement is swimming in your gut like a parasite before settling. The severity and realness of the situation sinks in.

Leon laughs low and mean, retracting his hand from your hair and moving to run it through the top of your scalp to push it back. He juts his hips upwards to prod his denimed erection into the cunt of your shorts. You mewl quietly, or maybe it was loud. The movie is just too deafening to distinguish which.

“Suppose you’re right, baby.” He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, leaning in to give you a light peck on the lips. “Told you you’re a smart girl, didn’t I? Can’t let me go around thinking with my dick, huh?”

His hand pats your thigh as if to tell you to get off.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Up.” He commands you with a huffed voice- not because he’s annoyed but because he’s a middle-aged man. Moving is hard. You ignominiously climb off of his lap, putting your bottom back onto the seat next to him. He’s looking at you, meandering a hand back onto your thigh just to rest in place.

You stare at the screen- but you can’t even register it because you’re too disassociated from what just happened. You almost want to beg him to fuck you right here- plead for forgiveness that you suggested stopping in the first place. And you can still taste that damned orange sour worm in your mouth.

Leon behaves, though. He’s good about that. Respectful. In the way of consent- not in the way of not tongue fucking his daughter in a public space. When the movie ends, he gestures for you to stand and you walk past him, carrying your empty cup and boxes of sour worms while the uncomfortable feeling of your slick clinging the gusset of your panties to your cunt. You look back at your father, the sight of him in the palely lit theater is a bit intimidating. He’s adjusting his pants for obvious reasons. You look away quickly and keep walking- a giddy feeling of satisfaction overcoming you. Shortly enough, you’re both back in the main area of the mall. You brush your shirt out and fix your hair- the thought occurs to you that maybe you look a little mussed and should have straightened up sooner.

But the daylight beaming through the sky roof brings you back to your senses.

“Hmm. What does my sweet girl want to get up to now?” Leon asks, intersecting his arms as he looks over you.

You think, mind fizzling as it short circuits. You almost smell smoke emanating from your head, too. How can you look him in the face right now?

“Uhh..” You really don’t know what to say. What can you focus on doing after everything that’s happened today?

“How about this? We can go home a little early and I’ll cook something up for lunch. The drive will give us time to work up an appetite.” He says, nonchalant. Right back to his same fatherly tone from earlier today instead of the ‘I want to split you open with my dick’ tone he had moments ago. Maybe he’s just being sweet and you’re overthinking.

You’re befuddled that he’s not saying anything else about… that. How can he so easily go from publicly groping you to acting cheery and normal? It’s frustrating. Disturbing even. Leon can see the disappointment on your face- but you don’t know that. You assume it’s well hidden, just like the fact you kissed your own father. He thinks it’s cute though. You’re just cock dumb for him. On the other hand, this whole situation is something he has to deal with.

“Got it.” You manage to say, walking a little faster than he does. This is the second time you’ve walked off from your dad, and it does irritate him because he can’t keep up like he used to. Displaced disc in his spine or whatever. Plus, he thinks you’re pissed. Which is worrying. Should have known better than to mess around with his own daughter, he supposes.

The drive back is silent and less terrifying than the previous, part of you thankful. Maybe he was only a bad driver in the morning. Unlikely, but not impossible. Maybe it was the fact that he drank whiskey with his breakfast. Hm. ‘Responsible’ in hindsight.

It’s still early in the afternoon when you arrive back home. The concrete is sizzling from the heat and the sun beats down way too uncomfortably for even a walk from the driveway to the front door.

Leon side-steps you to unlock the house before he urges you in. He may be morally reprehensible but he still didn’t want to let any cool air out- AC’s expensive. You plop down on the couch and he locks the door, walking past you and straight to the kitchen.

The tension is thick for you- but for Leon- not at all. You watch him disappear through the doorway as he goes to prep food. Why is it so hard to read his emotions? He’s like a fucking light switch. You’re annoyed- leaning back on the couch, until he calls for you. You’re quick to get up, scrambling into the kitchen.

“Hey, sweetheart. Mind giving me a hand?”

“Yeah. What is it?” You faintly cock your head to the side.

Leon looks to the side- directly at you. You’re cute when you’re confused. He can tell that all you’re thinking about is continuing where you two left off earlier. Shit, you’re no better than your mother. ‘S just that you’re not crabby and sour all the time like she is.

“Can you grab the saucepan from the bottom cabinet. Your old dad can’t exactly bend over too well.” He laughs- shaking his head. Yes, dad. I get it. I know you have a bad back.

You walk over to the cabinet where he’s leaned onto one hand which is rested on the marbled countertop. You feel a bit apprehensive to be close to him again. Mostly because you don’t trust yourself to not jump his bones, but Leon’s already ahead of you. As soon as you bend over, he pulls you back by the hips so that your ass is flush with his groin.

You’re taken aback but definitely not surprised. He’s a dirty old man, as you’ve learned.

“Gonna let daddy fuck this pussy now, or are you getting flaky on me?” He coos against your ear while he runs his hands up your sides and down again- creeping his hands to your front and over the buttons of your shorts- unhooking them through the slits.

“Yes.. want it.” You breathe in quick- the word coming out on its own. If god could hear you right now, he’d set your house ablaze with lightning.

“Need you to loosen up if I’m going to. You’re way too stiff.” Your shorts are the opposite of you, loose and unfastened fully so they fall to your ankles, and Leon nudges your feet apart with his boot. You realize he’s got a point as you feel his calloused hand glide down your hip and yank you in place. The other hand is spreading your pussy lips apart before finding that fleshy bud between them. A moan rumbles in your throat as your legs almost give out below you. He mutters a curse under his breath, and you realize his cock is now out while he rubs up against your ass- getting off on not only playing with your pussy but from dry humping you.

“Fucking christ. Got the prettiest ass, baby. Think daddy needs to see it bouncing on his cock.” You can practically feel that stupid, smug look as he grabs his dick- slapping it on your ass. It makes you cringe a little, but maybe you should be cringing at the fact your dad is the one doing it. You figure it’s just something he saw in porn, so it doesn’t leave your expectations high at the moment. Great. Leon adjusted himself back into his pants, for now.

His finger continues circling that bundle of nerves, your legs shaky as you’re being pressed into the counter, a hand is on your lower back to keep you down so he can do what he wants. You sound stupid- tears welling in your eyes as you babble nonsensically about wanting to cum. He moves his hand off of your back and sinks to his knees to be face level with you (even if it makes his back hurt a little), sliding his fingers up your inner thigh until there’s a digit prodding your hole, slowly pushing in.

He watches your cunt swallow his finger, barely able to fit it inside.

“Fucking shit, baby. Gonna have to stretch this pussy out if I want my cock in you, huh? Think you can let daddy do that?” He asks, breathy and sounding like he’s trying not to bust all over himself.

You eagerly shake your head.

“Yes, daddy. Need you to get me loose.” The words spill like a hot cup of tea from your lips, scalding Leon with desire.

“God damned. Such a polite fucking girl I’ve got. Might have to eat your mother out later to thank her for making you so respectful.”

You scrunch your face in disgust.

“That’s fucking gross.” You moan, Leon slipping a second finger into you, which should technically feel like four with how worn and big his hands are.

He tuts, planting a kiss to your asscheek.

“Now, didn’t daddy just compliment you? Could be a bit more grateful since he’s trying to make you cum” He grits, sounding a bit (terrifyingly) stern.

You apologize again.

“Sorry, daddy. Just don’t wanna hear about you and mom. Makes me jealous.” You admit, briefly thinking about their dinner conversation last night. Then about how fucking weird you are. You’re really hoping you get the courage to bash your head on the marble countertop and get amnesia.

Leon laughs, but in a way that makes you think he’s amused more than actually laughing.

“God. Want me to stop fucking my own wife just ‘cause you’ve got a needy pussy?” A third finger slips in, making an almost unbearable stretch as you feel a slight ache, but the previous two fingers already did enough work that it’s not completely unbearable.

“Maybe you’re not that grateful. Giving you three fingers here and she’s still too tight.” He twists his hand, letting the inside of you feel every inch of his knuckles and calluses. Your knuckles, however, are ghost-white as you grip at nothing.

“Maybe your fingers are just too small.” You say- mostly from built up tension and annoyance that you didn’t get to let out yet. But you regret the words.

He’s silent- which scares you. He pulls his fingers out of you- the stark contrast in emptiness is clear and the cool air stings you.

Leon groans as he stands up, kicking off his boots before yanking you by the arms to stand straight. He leans into your ear.

“C’mon. You’re gonna come sit on daddy’s dick, since you’re too fucking picky.” Goosebumps form all over you as he leads you to the couch. Leon leaves you standing there so he can get comfortable and discard his clothing, lying back with his hands behind his head. You make a mental note of how his biceps look with his arms bent in this position, even if you kinda feel like it’s lazy. But holy fuck, his toned stomach is perfect- sprinkled with a happy trail that will definitely lead you somewhere that will make you happy. Speaking of, his dick is nice. Fat. Not sure how big it is since you have not much to compare to, but you’d imagine taking it would be a bit of a proper challenge.

You step a little closer- crawling awkwardly over his lap- ass faced towards him so that you settle on his waist. It’s hard not to feel self conscious about your backside in this position, even considering the fact that he was just fingering you from the back moments ago. You’re mostly just upset you can’t gawk at his tits or stomach.

You grab him by the base, shifting yourself to hover directly over him, letting the tip graze your wet hole before slowly sinking down- a drawn out moan escaping you.

“Fuckkk. That’s it. Sit down on it. Take all of daddy.” You glance over your shoulder as you bottom him out; his eyes are half-lidded. Well, at least he’s got a pretty face while you’re fucking him. You almost failed to realize his hands moved from behind his head to your ass- gliding up your back and down again.

You take a moment to adjust, breathing shakily ‘cause his dick is so fat you think you might die. Or maybe you’re having a heart attack at your ripe age.

“Didn’t tell you to take any breaks, did I baby?” You’re annoyed at his pushiness, but you did have a bit of a sour attitude earlier. So you can only blame yourself.

You’re not sure how to entirely do this, but you move yourself up and down. Not at a fast pace, yet. Just that savoring your dad’s dick seems like a reasonable ordeal.

He doesn’t shut up, though. You’re learning just how much he likes to talk- as if he just wants to hear himself. Is he even getting off on you or the sound of his own voice? It makes you roll your eyes even if you do like hearing him say dirty shit.

"That’s my girl. So fucking good. Ride it nice and slow... Work that sweet pussy on daddy's cock.” You just might fall over dead hearing him say any of it- it’s disgusting but sweet Jesus are you eating it up. He must know it too because of how you clench around him involuntarily when he talks like that.

“You like when daddy praises you? Yeah, you love me telling you how good you are.” His words are husky and yet pleased with the previous tidbit of information.

“See how nice I am? Letting you sit on my cock after you made me wait earlier. Wasn’t very nice of you, now was it, baby?” His words have an underlyingly mocking tone, but you’d do anything to make him change it.

“No, daddy. Was really mean of me.” You whine pitifully, bouncing yourself on his dick like it’s your major in college and you’re trying to pass with flying colors.

“I know, baby. But daddy forgives you.” He murmurs, sitting up with you still on top of him. He’s flush against your back now- reaching in front of you to make those same tight circles on your clit. You both exchange your pitchy moans and his grunting and groaning- working up to a good point in both of your impending orgasms.

“Gonna cum in this pussy, got it? Daddy doesn’t like to pull out.”

You scramble a bit, squirming on his lap.

“Fuck, dad! You can’t do that!” You whine as his other arm holds you onto him- wrapped around your stomach. Your nails dig into his forearms, hopefully not leaving noticeable scratches.

“I think I can, baby. You’re squeezing me at the idea- I’m not fucking stupid.” He’s quick to be mean again, but you’d be a liar to say you’d don’t want him to cum in you. And you’re not a liar, that’s just deplorable- coming from someone who is literally fucking their dad with enough energy to power a small village for a month. And yet, you don’t stop riding him.

And your silence tells it all.

“Yeah- my baby wants a nice creampie.” He sounds more strained now, letting go of his hold on your stomach and using his hand to now guide you to roll your hips on him.

Sweat beads down Leon’s forehead, bangs sticking to his face as he watches your ass grinding against his lap.

“Fuck, baby. Just like that. I’m gonna cream this tight fucking pussy. Want that, don’t you? ‘Cause daddy’s gonna give it to you whether you want it or not.”

You should be a little more upset or concerned in any regard right now, but the last two days have made you into a proper whore to the point that you don’t even give a shit. Self respect crawled itself into a space shuttle and launched off of the planet, probably to never be seen again. Stuck in orbit, if you will.

You’re sucked out of the motions when Leon speaks again.

“Stop, stop.” He pats your bottom.

“Turn around, baby. I wanna see your face. Wanna kiss those lips while you’re on my dick.” Your stomach flutters with nervousness and a sickly sweet feeling. You lifted yourself from him with a trail of arousal to follow and maneuvered to turn around- this time he was holding his cock ready for you. Moments went by of you staring, getting a proper look of him since everything had been a quick blur so far.

“Come on, baby. Need you to mount daddy’s cock again. Told you I wanted to kiss you, didn’t I?” He exhaled, sounding a bit pent up. Jeez- seconds without pussy and he’s getting upset. Maybe he needs a therapist and anger management, not his college-aged daughter spearing herself on him.

You replied, yes, daddy. Sorry, daddy. Didn’t mean to make you wait, daddy.

You dropped yourself down onto him once more- only this time it was easier since you were able to get accustomed to his dick.

“Start moving sweetheart, make daddy cum.” He instructed, leaning in to take you in a kiss. It was more dirty than the last kiss, somehow. His tongue slipped between your lips- Leon lifted you with his hands on your waist before jutting his hips up to slam his cock snugly into your heat, groaning against your mouth delightfully.

His teeth nipped your lower lip- giving you a little further taste of just what kind of lover he is. Or maybe this is just the version you get. Either way, you can’t complain in any area. You feel lucky to receive even a sliver of it.

The familiar roughness of his thumb returns to your already throbbing bud- circling at the same pace he’s now moving at. Despite his age, he seems awfully enthusiastic to do strenuous work involving his hips. Bad back, my ass. Or maybe he’s able to put that on the back burner to please you. Probably worried if he doesn’t give you good dick then you’ll go tattle on him.

Leon didn’t break the kiss whatsoever while he pounded into you ruthlessly, he swallowed up every moan and noise you made like it was alcohol. ‘Cause that was his favorite, obviously.

When he pulled his mouth off of yours, a trail of saliva lingered- stretching out while you giggled on top of him. Something about you laughing almost made him nut immediately, but he held out just to prolong this and let it engrain into his mind for certain.

“Got the prettiest baby- look so good on my cock like this. Want daddy to bust in that pretty pussy?” He asked, looking for your approval.

“Uh-huh. Need daddy to knock me up.” The words came from god knows where, making even your eyes look bewildered for a second.

Leon laughed darkly at you.

“God, baby. Daddy’s so fucking close.” He muttered stupidly, almost like he was drunk. At least this could be an ego boost for you- but the fact it was your dad canceled that out. Dick only counts if it’s from someone that’s not related to you. His eyes did that half-lidded thing from earlier that you found so hot, and he pulled you down onto his cock one last time, spilling thick ropes into your blood-related hole. His dick pulsed as he let out a muted grunt, head lolling back and his adam's apple on full, stubbly display. You could bite it, just like a real apple.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He moaned. Jeez. He was a whore, honestly. The way he made noises and didn’t shut the fuck up was honestly… a case that should be studied. Maybe he had been turned out a time or two himself.

His cock didn’t soften though, nor did he not forget about you cumming. He lifted his head back up, looking down at where his thumb was. It was almost like he read your thoughts, not saying a word as he concentrated on making you cum. ‘Cause earlier he had been too eager to get in you and you were too eager to get on him.

Your nails dug into his shoulders (hopefully your mom wouldn’t notice any marks on him when she gets home from work later) and he gently fucked into you while you received proper attention on your aching clit. The combination of his dick keeping you full and the sensation of his digit sent you throbbing through your orgasm around him- low curses and other disgusting things coming out of both your mouths.

‘Cause you’re both disgusting.

[ahsxual]

William Afton x Fem!Reader who is his stepdaughter, Y/N being a person that dresses very feminine and a lot of short skirts and dresses. Y/N would have a boyfriend that she learns had cheated on her with her best friend and she goes to her mom and stepdad house for comfort from her mom before quickly, realizing her mom was not home and it’s instead gets cheered up by her stepdaddy 😏

Daddy's Comfort

Genre: Smut & Angst

Warnings: minors dni +18, sad reader, Soft!Dom!William x Sub!Reader, cunnilingus, fingering, Perv!William, married!William, nipple play, praising, William calls reader a slut twice, cheating, age gap (reader is +18), daddy kink, almost getting caught

Word Count: 2,2k

Tagging: @aliceblxck @wolfman-moony

Warm tears streamed down your face the moment you discovered that your boyfriend was cheating on you. And to make things worse, it was with your own bestfriend, the girl you were supposed to trust the most. But oh, how wrong were you. You never saw the bad side of people, because you didn't believe that people could be so cruel and untrustworthy. Whenever you felt down, you would go to your best friend's house to cry on her shoulder, but now that wasn't an available option, leaving you alone with your broken heart and no one to talk to about your pain.

You never liked to vent to your mother about your heartbreaks, feeling embarrassed to be vulnerable in front of her. Your stepfather William Afton, on the other hand, always gave you advice about how boys your age only wanted to play with naive girls and take advantage of their fragile hearts, which was why he was so strict about you having affairs or boyfriends. Right now, as you were heading home to get some comfort from your parents, since there was no one else who would listen to you, you realized how William was absolutely right.

You were hoping that your parents would be home at that moment, comforting you with the right words and the reassuring physical touch that you so desperately needed. However, when you opened the door, you noticed that only your new parental figure was home.

"Hi sweetie! How was your day?" William immediately noticed you weren't well the moment he looked at you. Your red face and puffy eyes weren't fooling anyone, especially your stepfather who was such a intelligent and perceptive man, and who apparently knew you too well.

He was sitting on the couch watching a criminal documentary to which you didn't pay much attention, as your mind was occupied with other thoughts. He was already in his pajamas, so he must have gotten home some time ago. He got up quickly the moment you didn't answer him and instead you just cried on the spot, as his tall figure approached you carefully so as not to elicit any negative reaction from you.

"Hey hey come here, honey. It's alright, daddy's got you now, baby." he reassured you in a soft tone, as he hugged you against his strong frame. You instinctively returned his gesture, the feeling of hugging your stepdad being much better and needed than you expected.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you nodded, allowing him to carry you over the couch and sit you on his lap, while he rubbed your back and grabbed your exposed thigh to hold you closer. You hadn't realized the effect you had on him because you were wearing a short, pink dress with a bow that hung just below your cleavage.

"You were right, William... guys are all the same. M-my boyf-, I mean, ex-boyfriend cheated on me... with my bestfriend! How could they do this to me??" you started crying harder now that you had verbalize what had been haunting you since that morning, but you still felt much better for being able to talk about it with your stepfather. Suddenly, you felt William's hand squeeze your thigh harder, but you ignored that feeling for the moment. He remained silent for a moment before he spoke again.

"Sweetheart, boys your age don't know how to value a woman... Daddy tried to warn you, but you didn't listen. You need to find a real man who can take care of you and who won't break that soft heart of yours. You're too beautiful and young to cry over some idiot, and that's why I don't want you dating anyone. Do you understand me now, honey?" his voice was slightly deeper than before, but once again you let it pass. After listening to his "dad speech" about boys, you just nodded and leaned your head on his neck as you hugged him, looking for some kind of safety and warm physical touch.

"I'm sorry, daddy... I didn't mean to upset you. You were absolutely right... boys my age are real assholes." you stayed on his lap for a while, as he softly stroked your back and legs and kissed your head several times. As time passed, you noticed that his breathing changed its rhythm to a faster one.

"And there's one more thing..."

"What is it, daddy?" you asked innocently, having no idea what he was going to say next.

"You shouldn't... dress like that around men. You know how pretty girls are an easy target for men to take advantage of. You can... drive them crazy and make them do things that they can't... control. Do you understand what I'm trying to say, sweetie?" it was only then that you felt something getting hard under your ass, his thin pajama pants making it obvious that he was getting turned on by your outfit and vulnerable state. You blushed heavily at this and began to tremble a bit from embarrassment and nervousness.

"I'm sorry daddy, I didn't mean to..." you were left speechless, as you had no idea what to say or how to face this awkward situation.

"Do you want daddy to make you feel good?" he asked bluntly, his tone indicating that his intentions were far from innocent.

You didn't know how to react, but what you did know was that you desperately needed him inside you. You stared deeply into his eyes, trying to figure out if his intentions were the same as yours, and as soon as you realized this was confirmed, you simply nodded and spread your legs wide. His pupils were extremely dilated and his stare at your lips was becoming unbearable, while a small smirk appeared on his face.

"My babygirl is so good to me... I promise that daddy will take care of his sweet girl and make her forget about everything that upset her. Do you want that, bunny?" his hand was now dangerously close to where you needed him the most, as you felt your white cotton panties already soaked by his simple touch and voice.

"Yes daddy, please... I need you." you moaned softly, and that was enough to drive him crazy.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked cautiously, yet you could see he was getting desperate and impatient to touch you in such an intimate way. The moment you said yes, his thin lips glued to yours in a hungry, passionate kiss, a kiss you'd never experienced before. You could have sworn it was the best feeling you'd ever felt, until he rubbed his long, skilled finger against your clothed pussy and smeared your cum juices all over your already ruined panties.

"Oh fuck... is this all for me, baby? You're so, so wet... it'll make everything so much easier, you'll see." and that's when you felt him pull your panties aside to insert his middle finger inside your cunt.

You immediately moaned loudly as he curled his finger inside you, hitting your g-stop over and over again, so sweetly. He went from fingering you to drawing circles around your clit as you he kissed you slowly, his tongue dominating its territory inside your mouth. After a couple of minutes, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your first orgasm, before he added a second finger inside you. Just as you were about to cum, he started fucking you faster and harder with his fingers, before bitting your neck and sucking on a purple hickey, making you reach your limit much more intensely. While you recovered, he never stopped kissing your neck and face, making you feel like the most special girl in the world.

"My sweet girl is so beautiful when she cums... What a beautiful sight to behold every day, every second... if only it was possible..." he whispered lovingly as he played with your lower lip. You wanted to please him too, so you took his thumb into your mouth and started sucking on it the best you could while gazing into his eyes.

"Can I suck your cock, daddy? Please, I want to pleasure you too." you were too eager to see what was under those pajamas, the hardness of it already promising that he could destroy you if he wanted to. He chuckled softly at you while shaking his head.

"Not now, sweetie. Daddy needs to taste his favorite girl first. You're the one who's had a bad day, right? So I'm going to pleasure you until you can't take it anymore... You can suck daddy's cock later, ok? I promise you'll see, feel and taste every bit of my cock sooner or later... I'll make sure of that. But right now, it's all about you, bunny." you smiled at his gentleness, and only wished you could have more time alone with him, since your mother would be home soon. Now you understood why your mother married this man after saying several times that she would never marry again.

William grabbed you in bridal style and took you to your room, where you would feel more comfortable and remember it every time you went there or slept. You were giggling in joy in his arms, his pecks on your lips made you feel hysterical butterflies flying around in your stomach. When you reached your bedroom, he gently placed you on your bed before undressing you. Your nipples hardened not only because of how cold it was in the room, but also with desire.

"Would you look at this... my bunny has such a perfect pussy. I can't wait to fuck you so good, princess. You're gonna love daddy's cock inside you. But for now... I'm gonna show you how a real man eats his pretty girl's pussy." his tongue trailed slowly through your wet folds, before leaving soft kisses on your clit. It was driving you insane and you desperately needed to beg him for more.

"Daddy, please... I need more please!" on another occasion William would continue to tease you, but your time was limited and he needed to make you cum again. He began to eat you out more eagerly, until you screamed his name over and over again. His skilled tongue never stopped pleasuring you, his beard and chin all covered in your juices, before you came again on his mouth.

"Just one more time and I'll let you go, baby... Come one, make daddy proud and cum all over my face." he demanded, before pinching your nipples harder.

His tongue didn't stop sucking on your clit, before it entered your empty hole until it reached the sweet spot inside of you. His beard scratched your tights and the slight pain only increased the pleasure you were feeling. A few minutes later, he grabbed your trembling legs and forced them over your chest with one of his strong arms, while his free hand fingered your pussy at a fast pace as he sucked on your clit. That was enough to make you moan loudly from pleasure as you came in his mouth and fingers, your cum dripping from your stepdad's chin as he stood up and looked at you.

It was only then that you heard some keys trying to open the front door of your house and you both immediately exchanged a knowing look. William wiped his chin with his sleeve, before leaning down to kiss your lips. However, you couldn't let him go just yet.

You knew that your mom's routine was to go to the bathroom before greeting her family, so when William was ready to leave your bedroom, you grabbed his arm to turn him towards you. He frowned at you, not believing that you were willing to risk getting caught, before you pulled his pants down and freed his cock.

"Honey, what are you do-" you didn't let him finish his sentence, as you put his long, thick dick inside your mouth and started sucking him off as if your life depended on it. "Oh fuck, you needy little slut... you just can't resist daddy's cock, can you? You're so desperate that you're willing to get caught sucking off your mother's husband. Bad, bad girl..."

And that's all he said, before forcefully grabbing your hair and fucking your throat harder than you thought, which made you choke around him as spit dribbled down your chin onto your exposed nipples. Your mother had already left the bathroom by then, so you had to be quick. You held William's hips firmly and helped him fuck deeper into your mouth, which helped him finish faster inside you. You swallowed every drop of his cum, before showing your tongue to prove that you were a good girl for him by swallowing everything he gave you.

"I had to thank you for making me feel better, daddy. I wanted you to feel good and proud of me too..." you smiled shyly, while blushing and bitting your lip seductively.

"Oh, you little whore... my baby is always surprising me for the better. Next time, I won't be so gentle with you. And this is not a warning... it's a goddam promise." he said with a satisfied grin, before leaving your room with a wink in your way that held a million promises.

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

after the events of season 4, steve just wanting SO BADLY to be friends with eddie. just LOVING the idea of them getting closer and having eddie as a friend because hell yeah! a close male friendship with someone that is actually my age, and who i don’t have a weird history with involving bruised eyes and love triangles? count me IN! and eddie is FUN, he is actually hilarious! the way they share the same glances of understanding when dustin is being an absolute shit head, rambling on and on about some obscure topic, expecting everyone to always be on the exact same page as him. of course. and, although steve suspects that eddie actually probably is keeping up with everything dustin says, much better than he ever could, he knows that above it all eddie can appreciate the antics for what they are, and roll his eyes with steve at dustin, i concur, you dustin henderson, are a total butthead.

steve just about junps RIGHT IN to being friends with eddie. hey man, what’cha up to tonight? wanna watch a movie? get drunk, smoke a bit? hey eddie, how have you been, man? he starts calling eddie up on the phone regularly just to check in, shoot the shit, he loves it! he loves having this new friendship with eddie munson and he loves how much the other boy has surprised him with how much he actually enjoys being around him. he’s not a freak, really, well ok maybe he is a little bit, but only in the best ways. he’s kind, thoughtful, and is always looking out for the people he cares about, which is something steve can really respect in a dude. but he’s also so funny? steve never could’ve anticipated just how much eddie has managed to make him genuinely LAUGH over their short amount of time spent together. and he’s really, out there? with the way he presents himself, the way he takes up space with these big THEATRICAL movements, leaving no room for regret or shame or god forbid embarrassment. steve isn’t even sure munson is capable of feeling it at all.

eddie munson is a good dude, and steve could use a bit more of that kind of person around him. he loves all of his friends, the weird little bonded family he’s found himself apart of, and they are all good people, but it never hurts to have afew more added in here and there. it never hurts to know there are more good people out there to find.

so steve is all over eddie, it seems.

at least, from where eddie is standing. nobody else seems as phased as eddie does at this sudden change in steve’s demeanour, in his interest in what eddie munson spends his time doing these days. it seems like, to everyone else, to steve, it’s just a natural progression in their relationship, after being sort of role model figures to the same group of kids, both being the two single dudes, who fought the same monsters together last spring, it seems nobody questions too much that they’d start casually hanging around eachother more. especially since eddie has found himself to fit into his own special spot as one of the group now after it all, after he unwillingly became tangled in this whole upsidedown-superpowers-supernatural-monsters and demons debacle, and tangled quite dramatically at that, the rest of the group that’s been with this since the beginning seemed to find no trouble in taking him in and seeing him as “one of them” now.

so, steve asking eddie to smoke, to watch movies, to go for a drive with no real end destination, it’s not really something that earns them too many double takes. dustin makes a comment or two in the beginning, because steve since when did you like hanging out with eddie? you guys are like so opposite, you don’t like any of the same stuff he does? and steve barely gives a shrug and a dismissive yeah yeah whatever man in response, with a signature eye roll, and dustin had said it seemingly also not too seriously, poking fun at steve wherever he can, not really meaning anything by it, as he fidgets around and rambles in the backseat of steve’s car, eddie riding up front. after that, though, he’s dropped it. it’s never brought up again. part of eddie thinks, too, that dustin would actually be enjoying that his two older friends are becoming friends themselves.

robin seems to be the only other person to look a bit harder at their situation, lingering stares at their interactions, all squinted eyes and eyebrows raised, though from her all this seems to be almost always and only ever directed at steve. eddie’s not sure what to make of that. isn’t he the weird one? i mean, he’s the one that stands out, right? he’s the odd denominator that makes their friendship strange. why would steve harrington want to hang out with Him? HIM? but robin doesn’t spend her time studying eddie to try and search for what about him could possibly have piqued the interest of cherished steven harrington, no, shes always looking at steve. like she’s seeing him differently, almost. eddie doesn’t even think that steve notices it, either, because he doesn’t seem to be questioning or doubting anything odd or strange or out of the ordinary with their newfound time spent together. and maybe, maybe robin is seeing him differently. eddie knows he definitely has been. seeing him more, intensely. deeply. human. seeing the person that steve is, as just steve, not this idealised version of a boy that eddies starting to question ever really even existed at all, or if everyone around him just needed to believe that he did, and who was steve if not happy to comply to the wants of the people around him for who he should be?

eddie likes having steve as his friend, too. don’t get it twisted. he loves how unexpectedly expressive steve is about everything, even really small things. steve LOVES to raise his voice, rest a hand on his popped hip, scolding the kids for something stupid with no real heat or malice behind it. and steve is, like, kinda bitchy too. eddie knew he had the capacity to be a real asshole when he wanted to be, that’s all he knew steve for back in the day, when he was back in high school, hanging around tommy h and the basketball boys, the jocks. eddie would spend his days hearing only whispers and gossip in the hallways of the parties at king steve’s house and the fights king steve had started and won on the court or out in the fields, only ever getting as close as a shove into a locker with the guy at the time, but eddie knew how it could go. he knew all about what steve had done to jonathan, what he’d said to him, the words he’d used. eddie knew it all. he’d seen enough, and been through enough himself, to know how these guys acted in response to guys like him, like jonathan, people who were lower on the social food chain. so, eddie knew about steve’s “mean streak”, if you will, but this kind of snarky bitchiness was something new to him. harrington was almost, sassy, when he wanted to be. it was less so cruel and more just, just sass. if he’s being completely honest it kind of blew eddie away, at first. he thought steve was one of those dull headed jocks who thought with their fists more than their actual brains, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. steve’s insults were well thought out, they were FUNNY, he was smart with his words. and silly. oh my god steve harrington could be so fucking silly, real honest to god goofball when the moment called for it, when he felt comfortable enough. eddie had caught on multiple occasions steve mimicking lightsabers to play fight with dustin, or the stupid fucking shit he would do or say just to make robin laugh, singing along to a song playing on the radio with a funny voice.

it was all a little, intoxicating, to watch. eddie didn’t know what gave him the right to be in on this now, to get to see this side of steve and better yet to be at the other end of some of his best qualities. it was fun, all the time they spent together, but there was always something else tugging inside eddie everytime they spent close time together, too. something, he knew steve wasn’t aware of. something he knew steve wasn’t equipped to deal with. something he knew, was him. was him, making things something more than they should be, because, nobody seemed to be questioning that they could become friends, so why ruin that? why disrupt it?

- robin and steve

“Steve.”

“-but then like, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to watch it I just thought, hey, y’know, let’s try something different for a change, but then he- oh my god he honest to god TACKLED ME Robin — I mean, it was so fucking funny and it happened so quick — and all over a fucking Tom Cruise movie-“

“STEVE.” Robin lightly slammed a hand onto the counter. She had been standing behind it for no short of 20 minutes, watching Steve as he paced around, supposed to be stacking tapes onto shelves, but ended up spending the whole time going on and on, and ON, about how movie night went with Eddie last night. She thought she was bad…

Steve jumped, almost running into a shelf and knocking down his hard work, and seemed to snap out of whatever trance he had found himself in after starting to tell Robin a story about something funny Eddie had done last night.

“Shit, sorry. Sorry, what were you saying? Were you- were you saying something?”

To this, Robin just rolls her eyes and let’s out a laugh, “You, sir, are goddamn hopeless.”

“Sorry. How long was I talking for?” Steve wandered his way over to lean his arms onto the counter from the opposite side.

“Oh, I dunno Steve, just about half an HOUR?”

“That is an over exaggeration Robin, it’s only been like-“

“Honestly, man, i’m concerned for you. You are like next level OBSESSED with Eddie. Eddie Munson. You do realise this right??? You are obsessed with him, Steve.”

To this Steve sputters, lazily waving his hands back and forth.

“No, Robin, what the hell are you talking about? I am not OBSESSED. No need to be jealous, alright, Stevie-Boy here can have more than one friend. Your spot in my heart isn’t any less special now that it’s beginning to be shared by another.” He bats his eyelashes up at her, holding both hands over his chest as if to cradle his heart.

“Oh my GOD! You even SOUND LIKE HIM!”, she playfully slaps his shoulder. “Steve. You are obsessed.”

“I am not obsessed! He’s just a really great guy, alright-“

“Blah blah, yep whatever you say, lover boy.” Robin quips, plopping down onto the chair chair infront of their staff computer, turning herself to face it.

“Wha- what? Lover boy? What the hell Robin, that is not- that doesn’t even make any sense!”

She is just smiling at him now, enjoying seeing him spiral like this. Steve let’s out a sigh as he puts his hands on his hips, and shakes his head, looking at her right back.

He opens and closes his mouth afew times, like he’s really thinking about what he wants to say next. Or like he has no idea what to say next, and his brain is not moving fast enough to formulate the next sentence his mouth knows he wants to say. He wasn’t obsessed. That’s not- that’s like- no. No he was not, Robin was just playing around with him, she knew how to get on his nerves. Get him all wound up over little things just to see him react like this.

After a minute or two, Robin realises Steve was not going to reply anytime soon, so she turns fully back toward him. Saving him from his spiral.

“So, what are you’re plans for tonight Steve-O?”

He lets out a chuckle and walks around the counter till he’s behind it with Robin, leaning his back against it so he can stand across from her and face her.

“Well, not really sure. Parents aren’t home, no early shift tomorrow, might drink afew beers, listen to some music, —“

“See what Eddie’s doin?” Robin finishes for him, quirking her eyebrows up and down as she does it.

“Oh shut up!” Steve just laughs and softly throws a tape from the counter at her chest. “As a matter of fact, yeah I will see what he’s up to. Because we are friends now, Robin. Is that a problem? Actually I was also gonna ask you what you were up to after work, too, but you know what after this I’m having second thoughts, I mean, the way you’ve been treating me lately-“

“Oh my god, you are the worst. Yes, I’m free, of course I’ll hang out with you dingus. You and your tweedle dee.”

Steve laughs at this, then tilts his head.

“Wait, does that make me dumb? Tweedle dumb?! That’s how you see me?”

“Yeah it is actually, got a problem?”

“Oh wow, she’s feisty today. Can’t believe you think I’m dumb, Rob’s. When you come knockin’ tonight, do not expect a warm greeting at my front door.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take my chances.”

- later. steve’s house. to be continued?

[dilf-docs]

Sabor A Chocolate

eddie brock x younger fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend eddie and his symbiote pal just make sure you know how loved you are.

warnings: sfw (there's always a first), tooth rotting fluff, my attempt at comedy (less funnier than friends), age gap (blog's brand ofc), chubby!reader, she's very insecure but actually deserves the world💔, angst, hurt/comfort, discussions of body image (neg), venom/eddie giving her the love she deserves!!!! kinda took some inspo on elefante's song by the same name of the title, set before venom 2 (not important actually)

word count: 2,580 words

side note: so i watched again venom 3 now that it's available on stream and i'm full of grief for my black little people eater alien💔 anywayyyy this is a based on this request; i hope u enjoy it my lil' frien :) ALSO tysm for leaving ur message!!!!!!!!!

It was Mrs. Chen's fault, really.

It all started with a late trip to the convinience store, which happened to be owned by one of your mother's closest friends.

Final's week was approaching, and with all the academic pressure, you tend to study until late hours, which means snack time can also end up happening in the middle of the night. Which is the reason why you're scouring through the store at 10pm, your hand occupied with some chocolates and chips to endure the rest of the study session you've got ahead.

The door makes its silly sound, announcing a new customer.

"Hey Eddie!" you hear Mrs. Chen's voice. You hide behind one of the shelves, ashamed of your aspect: one thing is a close elderly friend seeing you like this, another is a total stranger watching your final's week look: consisting of a long over-sized shirt with a washed up Welcome To San Francisco! on the front, some pajama shorts that ride up your thighs, a ponytail-bun hybrid and bare face.

"Hello, Mrs. Chen" the gravely voice returns. Oh, it's a guy: a guy with a very nice tone. You wonder if the face matches the voice, "looking good"

If possible, you get more embarrased than before. You don't usually have that much game, but if you were to get a chance, it definetely won't happen with you looking like this. You desperately want to get out, but leaving the food behind is a huge no. Also, getting out through the door without the man noticing is quite literally imposible.

She snickers, "I always look good!"

You decide to stay put until he leaves, hiding next to the chocolate shelf.

"What are you getting tonight, Eddie?" the elder woman makes a pause, "let me guess..."

You hear foot-steps against the floor, the sound growing stronger and closer. You pray to anyone out there who can hear you to stop what you think's going to happen.

"You already know what it is, Mrs. Chen" a beat, "chocolates!"

He screams first. You then scream, and then Mrs. Chen shuts you two idiots up.

"Stop shouting in my store! You'll scare possible customers"

"I'm sorry" Eddie says, then turns to you again and repeats his apology, "I'm sorry"

"I'm sorry too" you laugh, ashamed. "I didn't mean to scare you"

Now, Eddie takes in your figure better. Yes, your aspect is very poor, but it doesn't erase your beauty. He can understand: thanks to Venom, he's been sweaty and bad-looking before.

"Is everything okay?" you ask, growing a bit self conscious with the staring. It's definitely happened before, and not for good reasons.

"Yes!" he answers hastily, then coughs, rosy cheeks on display. "I'm Eddie, by the way"

"Glad we cleared that up" you chirp, almost breathing with relief on the spot, "I'm y/n!"

"Pretty name" he whistles, "pleased to see the name matches the face"

"Oh" you blush furiously. Is he being for real? This absolutely gorgeous strong older man? It's like a dream come true; maybe it is. No way a man, a good looking one on top of that, notices you, especially now that you're looking the worst possible ever.

"Are you buying or what?" Mrs. Chen pops up from behind you both. "Flirt later, after you buy. Outside"

"Geez, Mrs. Chen. I thought you were my friend" he feigs sadness, a hand over his chest. "You sure know how to kill a guy's game"

You giggle, and Mrs. Chen looks at you, then at Eddie and smiles. Ah, you know that look. God, this is about to turn very embarrassing.

"Not with y/n" she elbows your side, not so discreet. "My girl here is difficult to scare"

You turn red again. "Don't know what that says about me" then you lean closer to Eddie, whispering. He gets a whiff of the strawberry splash you put on yourself (you may look bad, but smell bad? never). "Mrs. Chen's friends with my mom, please don't listen to anything she says"

"Well, thank you, Mrs. Chen" he then looks at you and winks. He mouths an I'll help you, and you find yourself blushing for the 100th time. "Help me check this out, won't you?" he shows some chocolates. She leaves with Eddie, saying something like For your friend, right? but you're too busy thinking about how that could've gone in a more embarrassing way. The downside? She totally noticed the exchange; after the wink and asking your name part, you're positive it isn't one-sided.

"Hey, um. Y/n, right?" you nod too vigorous, like a fool. Just a name exchange and you're already this down bad? You need to stop. "Do you need help with that?" he points out the snacks that, at this point, you've already forgotten about.

"Oh! I can carry it myself" you dismiss.

"No, not that kind of help. I can see you're doing a pretty good job yourself" he gets closer, and your skin gets goosebumps at the closeness, even feeling his breathe on you. He's making you nervous just like that. "I'll pay for it"

Low husky voice whispering to you? Close proximity? And paying for your snacks at the very first meet? Is this some sort of trick or a straight out of a rom-com scenario?

You tend to more skeptical, but this guy is definitely working on you.

"C'mon. Don't leave me hanging in here, doll" he encourages, seeing your lack of motion. You blush (again) at the compliment. "Rough night?"

"Just finals" you answer while giving him your two snacks.

"Are you in college?" you nod. Then, you both walk to the entrance, where Mrs. Chen gives you with a look you try to ignore. She checks out your snacks and his chocolates. You wonder if he likes the same as yours, and why he's got so many of them. "Wow, what are you studying?"

"Journalism!" you answer a bit too excited, but God, don't you love your degree. "The reason I'm studying journalism is because I love to write. Through it, I would love to help others without a voice, you know?

"Wanna know something funny? I'm what you'd call a journalist as well"

"What?!" you shout a bit too loud, perhaps because of ease or perhaps of laugh at the timing of it all.

"Yeah! Are you from San Francisco?" he asks.

"No" you answer, confused as to where it leads. "Moved in for college"

"That explains it" he grabs the items he's just payed for, handing them back to you. "You know, I'm sort of famous around here. Ever heard of Cletus Cassidy?"

"Cactus what-?"

"Oh, Eddie" she laughs, mockingly. "Y/n here is as pretty and young as she looks. Of course she doesn't know who you are!" she snickers.

"Nevermind" he says ashamed. "Jesus, you sound more like a hater than a friend"

"It's all right!" you chime in, nervously. You're afraid you've fucked it up. "I can investigate you- oh, that sounded bad. Investigate your career, um. You know what I mean! It's kind of what I do, after all. Part, at least, of what I do"

"It's alright, doll" you could get used to this. A gravely rich voice calling you such. "No need to be nervous"

He looks thoughtful for a moment, and you start to fear your yapping or in general, the strange appeal or whatever magical reason he was interested in you, has vanished. As soon as he gets out of the store with you, fear creeps in. Is it all over? Was this a brief glimpse of what dating life is like? A chance you'll probably never get again. But then, he says:

"Can I have your number?"

"Sure!" you sound kind of glad about it, "do I put it in your phone?"

Eddie hands it to you, smiling when he sees what you've saved yourself as:

Y/n 👻🍫

"There you go" you say as you exit, and Mrs. Chen keeps looking through the glass. You hastily dismiss her, but you know she'll soon gush to your mother about it. "Thanks for everything"

"No problem" he winks. Oh, the nerve of this guys. "See you around, y/n. Good luck on those finals!"

You have to shut your demons for a while. Meet-cute-at-the-convenience-store guy seems to be truthful about it!

You'll just have to see how long it lasts.

Flash forward: it's lasted! Now Eddie is your boyfriend. Four months dating and you feel in heaven!

Yes, a bit of your demons have come out here and there, but Brock's been there to kiss away every single one of them. Venom too! Ah, yes: the alien symbiote that lives inside of your lover. Even he has taken to your liking! Being honest, meeting him did scare you at first; kind of a mind-blowing confession to make on your 1 month anniversary, but you soon learned surprises are a common thing if you're dating the so-called Lethal Protector. You both share chocolate filled afternoons when he takes over Eddie (he hates sharing yet let's his pal have some fun with you), watching a movie or two with his silly little comments on the background, sharing his alien-like knowledge with you (whatever that means).

So yeah, it's been a few months and you couldn't be happier!

Today, Eddie's supposed to pick you up from college. He has done so the last couple of weeks, and if you've seen people whispering behind your back, you've been smart to ignore it.

But today as you walk to your usual spot where Eddie picks you up, you hear the comments of two of your classmates (you recognize) from a class you take:

"They haven't broken up yet?" the other one laughs.

"She must've used some kind of dark magic, because there is no way that guy is with her"

"Yeah" the first one agrees, "y/n's weird just like that"

They aren't being discreet, and you start to believe they're choosing to do so, because next thing you know, they're talking about your body.

You begin growing self-conscious of your appearance: a sweater and a skirt, something Eddie loves seeing on you (he says it's easier to do stuff) but you can't help and start to feel insecure about the skin of your bare legs. You tense, tighlty grabbing the exposed flesh between your fingers, the tissue doughty under your hands. You hate yourself more often than you love, and it's harder to remember the positive side when you hear your thoughts loud in the mouth of other people.

The sound of a roaring engine cuts through the cloud of negative thoughts.

"Y/n!" you love it when he calls your name, enjoying every second of it. But now you just want to get out of here.

"Hey" you get closer to him, hoping on the bike. It's a big distance between you and the two classmates, but you still hear them say:

"It looks like a strong bike" pause. You feel sick, "I hope it won't break"

Eddie feels your arms cage him a little stronger than usual. "Hey, is everything okay?"

You hide your face against his back. "Please, let's go"

"You aren't going to say goodbye to your friends?" he looks back at the girls waving in your direction.

"Let's go!" you plead, rougher. He then realizes the girl are waving at him and not you, a flirty wink his way proving it.

Oh. He gets it now.

"Don't worry, doll" he caresses your hand. "I got you"

Then he speeds, not before making sure he leaves the girls who were harrasing you inside a cloud of smoke that makes them cough. Eddie looks back to see if you're laughing, but your face remains against his back, and he can feel his shirt start to damp.

Shit.

When you arrive at his apartment, your pace is fast, rushing through the stairs and entering his place first.

"Doll?" he calls out, but you don't answer. All he hears is small sobs, and his heart breaks. He finds you lying on his bed, your face hidden against his pillows. "Look at me, y/n"

"Y-you don't get it" you hiccup.

"I think I do" he purses his thick lips, "those girls were jealous of you"

"Jealous of me? Sure" you let out a dry laugh. "If anything, I'm jealous of them!"

He scoots closer, a hand resting on your back. "And why would you be jealous of two girls like that?"

"Because they're pretty" you confess, voice small. "Their bodies are perfect; doesn't matter if they're ugly on the inside. People mostly care about the outside"

"I see what's hapenning" he forces you to look at him, and your puffy red eyes make his chest pang. He needs you to know how beautiful you are, no matter how much you try to deny it. "You think you're ugly"

"Eddie!" you whisper-shout, alarmed.

"Hey! I never said that was my opinion" he says, tone defensive and arms raising up. "That is yours. A wrong one, by the way"

You scoff. "Yeah? why?"

You know Eddie loves you, but after today, you need to hear it.

"Because I don't like ugly people" you laugh in disbelief, "it's true! I love you because you're beautiful, in and out"

"Bullshit" you challenge, tears welling up again. You may start to see the light, but your demons come back to haunt you in whispered dark thoughts.

"You want me to list all the reasons I love you?"

You sniff. "Are there any? I mean, why are you with me, Eddie?"

No. He absolutely won't let you speak about yourself like that.

He grabs your face gently, wiping some tears. "I love you because you're the smartest, funniest, driven, most caring woman I've met, inside the hottest body of all times!" he squishes your side, and you laugh because of the ticklish sensations. "Haven't I shown you so? How much I worship it in bed? You've got to be kidding me! I wouldn't know what else to do or say to convince you of just how perfect you are!"

"Eddie..." you whimper his name out, lunging forward and enveloping him on a hug. He brushes you hair, softly.

"Listen, y/n. I understand your feelings, but it's unfair how bad you see and treat yourself. You are beautiful, no matter what anyone else says, and that's the point: beauty starts from within. It doesn't matter how many times I tell you so, because if you don't believe in yourself, it's all in vain"

"I'm sorry" you hug him tightly, "I wish I liked me more; to see me how you see me. Thanks for having patience"

"No need to thank me for anything" he assures, kissing your temple. "I don't get tired of telling you how much I like your eyes, a delicious invitation to taste you. Or your peachy skin, rosy and soft in all the perfect places. Or your chocolate heart: warm and sweet. You're bascially a ticket to heaven"

"Thanks" you whisper again, much more calm. "I love you, Eddie"

"Well, I love you too, doll"

"I love you too!" It's Venom, who appears next to Eddie. "You're the prettiest human girl I've ever met!"

"If it makes you feel better, I can eat those sluts" he offers softly, and you pet him while laughing, although Eddie rolls his eyes. The nerve of this guy.

"Seriously? Read the room budy!"

[alovesreading]

Chicken Shop Date | Part 10

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: 43.3k

A/N: Well hello everyone! We are back... kind of. It's been over a year (a year and eight days to be exact) since the last chapter we posted of this story, but most importantly, today marks exactly two years since we first posted this fic and we wanted to celebrate by posting the very last chapter. This is a bittersweet moment because we did start this one thinking it would be two parts long, at most, yet here we are. We are so baffled by how big this story became, but so incredibly grateful for your support, love, and your endless patience with us. N and I are sending yous all the love. We're gonna let you enjoy every bit of this chapter, and well, I guess we'll see you on the epilogue!

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 |

| N’s Masterlist | A’s Masterlist |

~*~*~*~ 25th February 2023 ~*~*~*~

"So sorry we're late. We're finally here." You unlock the door to your Mum and Dad's house with Matty in tow.

The only thing that's gone right on your trip here is that you both made it into the car and you both had the bright idea of getting ready for your family party before you set off. Other than that, it's been a bit of a mess.

First, after 5 minutes of driving away from Matty's house, you both forgot your bags which you packed for the next few days of your stay at your parents so you had to go back to grab them. Then you kept on getting every red light you came across, followed by a standstill on the motorway which was 45 minutes of you and Matty singing 2000s bangers interrupted by each of you occasionally complaining about how long you'd been waiting in traffic.

Needless to say, parking up at your parents house was just that bit of comfort you needed after a shit journey. Though by the slight bit of worry you can detect on Matty's face you feel that he may not be quite as comforted as this is the first time he's meeting your parents.

He's only briefly caught your Mum on FaceTime before now and it was just a quick conversation that you cut short because your Mum was about to embarrass you. But he's yet to meet your dad and you know he's nervous despite him having no reason to be.

"You're fine, it's better if we're fashionably late anyway. Come in, come in." You Mum shouts as she rushes to the door and practically all but shoves you out of the way after giving you possibly the quickest hug and peck to the cheek. Clearly, her eyes are set on a certain someone else. 

Your boyfriend manages to get his greeting in there first once you step to the side to watch the encounter. Matty smiles brightly, putting your bags down in the hall as he says, "Hey, so so nice to finally meet you."

"Matty," Your Mum's grin is huge as she welcomes him with open arms, "So lovely to meet you properly."

Being the teddy bear that he is, Matty isn't phased by the hug in the slightest and he happily returns it, giving your Mum a tight squeeze as if relishing in the hug of another mother figure. It seems your Mum's grin is infectious because Matty's is now just as big as he tells her, "So lovely to meet you in person. FaceTime isn't the same. You're even more gorgeous in real life."

Your Mum starts laughing as they release each other from the embrace. "Flattery gets you everywhere in this house, you're going to fit right in." She pulls your boyfriend inside, like he isn't being dragged when she says, "Please come in."

Matty smiles at you on his way in, clearly having calmed down a little after realising you weren't lying when you said that your Mum was lovely. You adore him for being nervous though, God knows if you weren't badly jet lagged and emotional the day you met Denise, you would have been just as, if not more worried than when you met Tim.

Your Mum leads Matty straight into the kitchen leaving you to put both your bags at the bottom of the stairs out of the way, and you head to your lounge to see your Dad with a beer already in hand and he's on his feet offering you a hug immediately. There's a gin on the side so it's great to see that they have had pre-drinks while they've been waiting for you to arrive and not sat hating you for being late.

After pleasantries are exchanged and you've given him a hug, he asks you. "Was the trip over okay?"

"Yeah it was good despite the traffic, thank you Dad." You smile, picking up your Mum's gin and smelling it quickly before you have a sip.

Ooooo Parmaviolet gin. Stunning! Putting the glass back down quickly, you nod towards the door and ask your father, "Come meet Matty?"

Your Dad looks entirely too smug as he asks, "Do I pretend like I haven't seen his face on your bedroom wall since you were a teenager?" 

God that's a whole different can of worms you'll have to sort out when you get home later. Take the posters down, number 1 on the priority list. "No, he knows I was a fan. But please don't embarrass me." You all but beg, even showing him some puppy dog eyes as you reiterate, "Please."

"I make no promises." Your Dad smiles teasingly and slight dread seeps into your system.

Even though you're slightly more than half certain he's just trying to wind you up, you say, "Dad." sternly.

Instead of easing your worries, your father just pulls you into another hug, and he kisses the top of your head before saying softly, "Good to have you home."

You're about to tell him you're happy to be back, but before you can your Mum comes into the lounge with your boyfriend in tow. Immediately a smile finds its way to your lips, just because you can see his gorgeous face again but also because he's clearly made friends with your Mum already as he's got one of her precious gin glasses in hand which means he's already won her over. You're lucky if you even get one of those crystal gin glasses.

Your boyfriend's grin only gets bigger when he properly greets your Dad, offering him a handshake. As your father takes his hand, he asks knowingly, "Did she make you drive Matty?"

"No, I offered," Matty chuckles a little before he explains, "And I've not insured her on my car yet... But when I do that, I'll make sure she drives next time."

Matty glances at you all amused because you've told him in the past how you're not too confident about driving around central London which is why you don't have a car at your flat. The little bitch just likes teasing you about it, and from this alone you know him and your Dad will get on just fine because your Dad's made the same joke in the past.

"Good man." Your father chuckles, "Nice to meet you."

After introductions are out of the way and you're all settled with drinks in hand, Matty seems to relax right in and you're really pleased because you knew he was nervous to meet your parents even though you told him there was no need to be. Regardless, you're so happy he fits in seamlessly, and is doing God's work by entertaining all of your Mum's silly questions.

But it's when there's a slight lull in conversation that your father takes the opportunity to ask a question you wish never left his lips. Your Dad looks all proud of himself after he takes a sip of beer and asks, "Has my daughter ever told you about the time that she screamed and started crying when you announced you were releasing your second album?"

"Oh my god, STOP!" You yell before hiding yourself in your hands all the while Matty's giggle fills the room.

"Ha, no she hasn't but I'd love to hear all stories like that." You hear your boyfriend say and you're already shaking your head.

"No, you don't." You say sternly, still hiding your now burning face. Your Dad just laughs and ignores you as he tells Matty, "Oh there's hundreds, I'll tell you when she's not here to tell me off."

The whine of pain that leaves your lips has the room laughing, and Matty rubs your back for a second to silently tell you not to be embarrassed. If anything he's grateful for your obsession with his music because it led to him being here with you right now and he wouldn't change that for the world. No matter how obsessed you may be.

You take a second to compose yourself before you uncover your hot face and look directly at the culprit. "Dad," You shoot him a pointed look that both him and your Mum start chuckling at, "Thought I just said don't embarrass me."

"Sorry sweetheart, but I can't promise anything when you bring the man home who we've been shown pictures of since you were a teenager." Your Dad drops you in it again and all you can do is look to the ground and sigh.

"It's going to be a very long night." You mumble before you take a long sip of your gin. And something tells you that you're not going to be wrong.

~*~*~*~

Matty is stiff in his seat next to you in the taxi as you make your way to the venue where your family gathering is. As nerve wracking as it was to meet your parents, he recognises that it's gone well, but the prospect of now going to a place where he's not only going to meet but interact with your entire family for hours, has him shitting bricks.

His breathing becomes shallow as he bounces his knee and fiddles with his fingers, and he doesn't even notice he's doing all that since he's lost staring space. His thoughts are as all over the place as his fidgeting, trying to remember names you've thrown around or little details about your aunties and uncles that he could use to make a good impression.

You're thankful you don't fail to notice his clear signs of restlessness showing through. You almost coo aloud because you find it so adorable that he's this nervous about meeting your family. Maybe you should mention they already adore him because you have never kept your love for the band from them, so basically everyone already knows who he is.

If anyone should be scared of things potentially going against them, it's you who should be worried. God knows all the shit your family could say to him to embarrass you. Your parents have already tried their hand, but you know there's so much more that everyone else could say.

Before you can even begin to make a list of all the possibilities, your hand rests over his restlessly bouncing knee. You gently rub his thigh as you send a smile his way, quietly telling him, "You're going to be fine."

His leg stops moving and though his hands freeze over his lap, his gaze falls on you and you can just read the worry on his face. Bringing a hand up to cup his face, you rub his cheek softly and assure him, "They'll love you."

Just as much as I do, you want to add but you don't think it's the best time to say it. You just hope he can read it in your eyes, because your chest hurts with the amount of love you have for him and it shines on your face when you look at him.

He nods faintly and leans in to steal a quick kiss. "I trust you," he mumbles against your lips before pressing a kiss to your cheek and finally settling in his seat. His fingers intertwined with yours and he squeezes your hand before resting it over his thigh. Looking down at your joined hands makes you sigh in content, and you end up resting your head on his shoulder with the stupidest smile on his face.

Matty lets your warmth calm him down and soon he forgets where you're going for all he can think of is how nice you smell and how soft your skin feels under his calloused fingers, how cute you look in this dress and how he could go an eternity with you pressed against his side like this.

When the car stops, you pick your head up and, just like your parents, thank the driver before exiting the taxi. You turn to look at Matty and see his nerves washing over him again, but you walk up to him and brush his curls back before kissing him softly and quickly in reassurance.

Though it really doesn't help when your dad says, "Come on, let's throw you into the belly of the beast Matty."

Matty chuckles quietly, and though he puts on a cool, unbothered expression, the way he squeezes your hand gives him away. He clears his throat before saying, "You surely can't be all that bad."

Your dad snorts menacingly, knowing exactly what's to be expected on the other side of the door, "You'll be eating your words soon."

If you were close enough to slap your Dad's arm, you would have done but he's already linked your Mum's arm and heads inside. The venue isn't the biggest, but it's on the nice side of town and it's by no means a shithole, so it's perfect for your Auntie's birthday bash.

It's by pure luck that the second you go inside, the first to greet you and your family is your Uncle Darren. He smiles brightly at you when he sees you and Matty holding hands and waiting for him to finish hugging your mum and dad.

He makes a show of letting his gaze fall to your joint hands and then back up to your face so he can give you a wink. You can feel your cheeks heating up at the lack of subtlety from your uncle, and his smirk is huge when he notices you getting flustered at his silent taunting.

His gaze moves to your boyfriend then. Extending his hand out towards Matty, your uncle introduces himself, "You must be Matty. I'm Darren, nice to meet you."

Matty hears you snort beside him but doesn't question it for he shakes your uncle's hand and offers him a sweet smile, "Lovely to meet you. You're Y/N's uncle right?"

"Yes, I'm her favourite," your uncle replies smugly. He looks at you and sees the way you roll your eyes, it has him snorting out a laugh before asking you this time, "How was the drive?"

You give your uncle a little smile seeing the actual care laced around his words, "Yeah it was good, thank you. After the traffic it was good to see home again."

"Ah yes, you went home first..." your uncle says and lets his words drift away into the air, and you can almost see how a lightbulb goes off in his head when he smirks again and looks at Matty to point out, "You got the meeting the parents out of the way first. Good idea. But it's me you have to impress."

You almost laugh when you think you see Matty visibly gulp. But you take pity on him, like he's done with you when meeting his family. Plus, you know your uncle is playing with him. He has known who Matty is for far too long thanks to you being an avid fan of the band, and he's actually hiding how much he enjoys their tunes.

"He's already impressed you with his music, don't act all tough now." You turn to a still nervous Matty and try to ease his worries by saying, "He's a big fan."

That's when it clicks for Matty and he turns back to look at your uncle with a knowing smile growing on his face, "Aren't you uncle Dazza?"

Your uncle gives up his attempts to tease you any further and to act too cool then, he just nods and says, "I quite like Tonight I Wish I Was Your Boy. I love the sample from The Temptations."

You swear you can feel the way Matty relaxes when sensing a bit of familiarity now, and you smile so big when he says, "Thank you. They were twats about that one though. They wanted like ninety seven percent from us to use that."

Your uncle Dazza's eyes widen at the quick fact and you almost laugh at the same time as he says, "Really?"

Matty nods and sighs as if the memory alone gets him annoyed, but then shrugs as he tells, "Yeah we just said fuck it though because it was too good to not to make."

"Well I'm glad you did. Great song," your uncle concludes and it's your loud cackle that makes a bright smile break on his face before he shoves you slightly and tells you to, "Shush." Before you can even start gloating about how you've managed to turn everyone into at least a casual fan of the band, your uncle Dazza sends you over to where your auntie is. 

Your mum and dad have gone ahead and are already talking to her when you get pushed away by your uncle, so you sneak behind her taking Matty right with you and yell, "Happy birthday!" over her shoulder. She lets out a loud gasp when hearing your voice, but a little squeak follows when she sees who's right beside you and holding your hand.

"Oh my god! Is he here to serenade me?" Your Auntie says with so much excitement you think your heart might explode. Matty blushes next to you when you chuckle lightly and your Auntie fans herself as she makes a show of her assumption. "On my birthday, Y/N you shouldn't have."

What you don't expect her to do though, is turn to Matty and rest her hand on his forearm as she says, "My favourite is Antichrist, just so you know." 

You have to swallow the urge to cackle when Matty just frowns deeply at the suggestion. But your auntie still winks at you, knowingly. You can only smile at her, so damn proud that she's done this the second she's met your boyfriend. You have certainly taught her well.

"How'd you..." Matty looks confused for a second before he shakes his head slightly, a smile slowly forming on his lips before he asks, "Surely that's a bit too depressing for a big day like today?"

The silence that follows is loud for a second or two, until your Auntie pouts and looks at you to say, "I tried for you babe."

You halfheartedly sigh in response, "Thanks for trying Auntie Shazza. Stubborn man he is."

Matty can't fight the smile that spreads on his face, and he asks your Auntie in disbelief, "Did she tell you to ask for that?"

Bless your Auntie though, she shrugs and puts on a proud face as she says, "No, I just know things."

Before Matty can say anything else, someone calls out for her and she excuses herself. She gives your boyfriend a smile and you a wink before leaving. You just know that he's about to say something by the way he smirks at you, with that glint in his eye that makes your head run wild but before he can open his mouth, someone interrupts.

"Y/N!" You hear being shouted from across the room and when both you and Matty turn to follow the voice, you all but run at your favourite cousin.

Matty can't help but like your cousin already, just from the smile he simply brought to your face. Matty knows by your reaction alone that it must be Olly, your 'absolute legend of a cousin'. You've been telling Matty about him since you asked if he was free to join you at this party and your boyfriend has been keen to meet him.

"Thank fuck you're finally here." Olly says as he gives you a tight hug which you return. But when he releases you, he pulls back and looks at you accusingly, "You've left me for over an hour being exposed to Satan incarnate."

Matty's confused by this as he watches on expectantly, but by the way the joy of seeing your favourite cousin falls from your face, he knows that whoever you're talking about is not someone you're a fan of. And that's made extremely clear with your reaction that has Matty holding in a laugh.

"She's here?" Your scoff, and when Olly nods entirely unimpressed by the truth, you say with complete conviction, "Great... Was hoping she'd have rode off on her broomstick by now."

Matty thought that his eyes couldn't get any wider hearing that, but then he's sure his eyes budge from his head when Olly tilts his head to the side and so casually says, "Hit by a bus would be better." You snort in laughter at that, and when you turn to Matty so you can introduce him to your favourite cousin you notice just how confused he is. But before you can begin to explain, your boyfriend gets there first.

"Is she Regina George or something?" Matty questions as he looks between the two of you, he has to know, "Why do yous hate her?"

"Oh, you'll find out." You cousin half laughs before stepping towards your boyfriend and introducing himself, "'M Olly, it's nice to meet you mate."

"Matty, nice to meet you," He smiles and shakes your cousin's outstretched hand, "I've heard lots about you."

"Ditto," Olly smirks, "Although, it's usually more about your music than yourself."

The look of utter betrayal on your face is priceless and Matty can't help but laugh. He gives you an amused look but asks with raised eyebrows, "Do you ever stop talking about me?"

You do well holding in your scoff, but it's so worth it when you twist your cousin's words to tease your boyfriend. You give him a knowing look when you say, "Usually to talk about more important matters like Ross or George."

"Nice to know Hann didn't make the cut." Your boyfriend folds his arms almost proudly, taking the small victory where he can. But of course, you're there to shoot him down again.

You narrow your eyes as you backchat, "Only because he's married with a child." Matty gives you a look then that screams carry on and you'll regret it and because you know his punishments will be oh so sweet, all you can do is give him bring it on eyes.

"Careful," Olly brings the both of you out of your little staring match, reminding you of all the other eyes that could be on you, "Lovers quarrel at a family party and you will be the talk of the town for very different reasons than you already are in the family WhatsApp."

You hum, "There's a reason I don't check that chat."

"Well, you'd be pleased to know that Mother Gothel isn't here," Your cousin smiles, but the character name has Matty feeling thankful for whoever hasn't shown up. However, Olly goes on to say, "But Paige only decided to come once she heard that you were coming and bringing Matty."

"Of course." You let out a berated sigh, and Matty finally gets the picture when you say, "But at least her Mum's not here."

Whilst your boyfriend's keen to get the gossip, he can't help but tease you a little, "Wow, I never knew you could be so nasty." The look that you send him is entirely one of amusement but clearly you and your cousin feel very passionately about these two people, because your cousin backs you up completely.

"Believe me, she deserves it." Olly begins to explain everything to your boyfriend. "She thinks she's the big 'I am' because she went to fashion school, but since Chicken Shop Date blew up for Y/N, Paige has been bitter about her getting to go on red carpets and meeting celebs and stuff."

Matty's eyes go wide and when he looks at you for confirmation, you nod a little and then tell him most of the details. You explain how Paige is your Mum's eldest sister's daughter, and Olly is your Mum's little sister's son, and the three of you cousins were all born one year after the other (Paige being the oldest and you the youngest) and how at family get togethers it was always the three of you forced to interact as you grew up.

For as long as you can remember Paige has always been a cow and a snake, and she always picked on you as a kid just because she could and she got away with it most of the time because she was older. Her Mum is just a pretentious cow who in her eyes can see Paige do no wrong and thankfully your awful auntie's sisters dislike her, not just you and Olly. You'll forever be grateful that your Mum and Auntie Sharon had a massive row with their sister one year which meant you saw less and less of that small evil side of your family. But that didn't stop their poisonous comments from getting to you over the last few years.

As you're about to explain all the shit she initially said about Chicken Shop Date and the things you've heard her say about you and Amelia, it seems the bitch has a second sense for her name being uttered. Because speak of the devil and he shall appear, this time in a mini skirt and stilettos.

"Y/N." Paige makes her debut, stalking over to the three of you in her heels which still leaves her shorter than you in your combat boots. "You finally made the effort to show up, how gracious of you."

Taking a second not to immediately bite back at her attempts to rile you, your reply is short and sweet, "Fashionably late, what can we say?"

Olly holds in the chuckle he wants to let out hearing that, and at the way the three of you clock Paige's eyes looking you up and down as if to check for herself. And you can't hold your smirk seeing the light die in her eyes as she realises you're dressed in a Miu Miu forest green knitted dress. And it costs a fuck ton of money, which she's well aware of and can't say shit about.

When her eyes meet yours again, just to subtly fuck with her that bit more, you correct yourself, "You could also call it saving the best till last."

Olly snorts seeing your smirk and immediately throws his hand up to cover his mouth. It takes Matty a lot to not just laugh straight away, but he can't help the smile that's on his face. But seeing Matty's amusement immediately attracts your devil cousin's attention, and she grins then looking directly at your boyfriend. As she does, she also answers your statement nodding to herself, "Oh yes, you really have."

And of course she doesn't mean you. Not with the way she's looking like she wants to eat your boyfriend alive. Looking at Matty up and down in a more suggestive way than you've ever even seen fans do at his gigs, your bitch of a cousin hums to herself, but purposefully loud enough for you to hear over the venue's music, "Oooo, even better in real life."

It takes everything in you not to react. Instead you just smile like you agree, and you take every pleasure in seeing that she's annoyed by not upsetting you. Truly, it baffles you how she's 30 years old and still acts like she's a teenager with a petty feud.

She stretches out her hand as if she wants him to kiss the back of it, "Hi, I'm Paige"

Matty, entirely unimpressed with her behaviour, puts on a smile just to be polite. But he's also mighty confused why she's offered her hand like that but shakes her hand instead, "Hey, y'alright?" And he's never let go of someone's hand faster.

Paige keeps eye fucking your boyfriend and smirks as she glances at you, "I remember what you used to say about him..." immediately Matty turns to look at you with a smirk already lighting up his face, and he thinks she's about to spill some gossip on you, but she just attempts to flirt again, "I can say I agree now, especially about these curls."

Your boyfriend frowns a little at that but he doesn't take his eyes from you, meaning he sees the way your jaw falls slightly at the mere audacity of your family member. He catches the way your jaw clenches ever so slightly before you casually bite back, "Well I don't have to say them anymore, I can just do them."

Paige just chuckles in response and Matty can feel her gaze linger on him as she says, "Good for you." and only because he thinks she's about to catch onto the fact she's not wanted in this conversation anymore, he looks back at her for a second.

But that leads Satan incarnate to tell Matty, "You know it's lucky she got 'famous' too because I fear you would still be her entire personality still now if not."

"Then it's lucky she's entirely my personality now so we balance each other out, don't we baby?" Matty smirks at you, wrapping a possessive arm around your waist and pulling you into him. His eyes barely even leave yours, as if he's totally besotted with you and there's not a party going on around you. And god, you feel the exact same. You could get lost just looking at him again right now, counting all of his cute little freckles, picking out which of his curls is your favourite one today, loving how it's falling.

There's endless things that have you never wanting your eyes to stray from the man you love, but seeing how he's looking at you and feeling how he's holding you like he never wants to take moments together for granted and holding you tightly is something you'll forever cherish. You're itching to tell him you love him, and seeing just how big your smile is, the words almost fall from Mattys lips.

But your cousin ruins the moment. "Oh, you two are already vile." Olly fakes a gag before he moves behind the both of you and forces you apart by hanging an arm over each of your shoulders and pushes you both away from Paige. "Let's do some shots and start the night off with a bang."

"I like your thinking." Matty chuckles and happily lets him be led the way to the bar.

Thankfully Paige doesn't follow you and the three of you manage two shots of tequila each at the bar before you get your drinks. Unsurprisingly, Olly gets whisked away by your Auntie Sharon, wanting to show her son off to her friends and your other family members so you and Matty are left to your own devices for a few minutes.

Or that is until the both of you sit down at an empty table and settle with your drinks. You both let your surroundings sink in, although loud music and a lot of people in a room isn't anything new to either of you now.

Despite you thinking the DJ has opted to play Pitbull a bit earlier in the night than needed considering no one is up dancing yet, the party is in full swing. A lot of your family is here and people you recognise from your Uncle's family who you've met at these parties previously, and you're really happy for your Auntie Sharon's sake that she's had a good turn out and everyone looks like they're enjoying themselves.

A few of your Auntie's friends spot you and they come over for you to introduce them to Matty. You love them nearly but they are a rather nosy bunch - wanting every detail of how you two got together which you give them the PG version of events. Matty came on Chicken Shop Date, there was a spark there despite the filming so another date was arranged, and after your date on New Years you've been together ever since. Absolutely no need for them to know he stayed at your flat twice before your second date and he fucked you dumb after it.

Despite the amount of familiar faces coming up to you and asking about the new man in your life, you can't bring yourself to hate it even if some of them were a bit too invasive. And that's because you catch that glint lighting up Matty's eyes each and every time you call him your boyfriend. It has you wanting everyone to come over so you can show him off to everyone.

Not to mention the way seeing that look in his eyes makes your heart skip a beat. It's getting difficult to keep your mouth shut about how much he means to you now. But you're certainly not going to tell him you love him for the first time at your family party.

You're thinking about just how much you love the man beside you talking to your Aunt's friend when you hear a thunder of little feet coming your way and just as you're about to turn around in your seat, you hear a sweet little voice that you've been missing.

"Auntie Y/N!"

You all but jump from your seat when seeing your favourite little cousin running towards you, "Sammy!" Your arms extend to have him run into them, and when he crashes into you, you let out a groan as you try to pick him off the ground like you always have, "Oh I've missed you cutie!"

You rest the little one on your hip and notice just how much he's grown because you can place a dozen kisses on the 6 year olds head with complete ease now. And once you get your giggle after you pepper him with kisses, you give him a tight squeeze as you say, "But you've grown so much, I can barely pick you up now!"

"I've missed you too!" Little Sam says in your ear, and your heart melts because that's just what you wanted to hear. You give him another big squeeze that he pretends he can't breathe from which makes you laugh as you put him back on the ground.

There's a proud smile on Sam's face and puffs his chest out to say, "I'm quite big now, right?" Your grin gets impossibly big and you nod before accentuating, "Huge!"

It's Matty's little enamoured giggle behind you that catches little Sam's attention, and when he realises where he has seen that face before, the kid is pointing at your boyfriend and outing you in the worst possible way. 

Little Sam gasps, entirely jaw dropped, looking from you to Matty when he all but shouts, "You have pictures of him in your bedroom!" Your jaw falls automatically and Matty's cackle is loud in response. Your mouth moves as you try to say anything back to that but you can't gather any words in your mind in the time it takes Matty to get up and crouch in front of Sam and ask, "Oh does she?"

The little traitor nods enthusiastically, now grinning and continues to expose you, "Yeah and she also has a really big picture of y–" Quickly, you're behind your little cousin covering his mouth with your hand, you manage to interrupt his attempt at ruining your reputation. You crouch down a little to tell Sam, "You've said enough. Where's you Mum and Dad?"

"No, no," Matty now standing just in front of the both of you with a grin on his lips, "Let the kid speak."

You say, your cheeks feeling very hot, "Nope." and you quickly wrap your arms around little Sam and heave him into the air. Secured against you, you turn around and carry him back over to his Mum and Dad leaving Matty cackling behind you.

Unfortunately, the end of your embarrassment never comes because once you've made it back to Matty after handing Sam over to his parents who quickly distracted him, more of your cousins come over to see you. Only after you explain to Matty how the kids are your second cousins do the rest of the little monsters descend.

After exchanging pleasantries with their parents (your Mum and Aunt's' cousins), their little boy Zack - who Matty would guess is about 12 - is left with you for a few minutes, and after you introduce him to Matty, explaining how he's your new boyfriend, Zack looks at you quizzically. The little dirty blond asks you, as he stands between yours and Matty's chair, "Isn't he-" nodding at Matty, "The one in the videos you used to play when you would babysit me?"

You don't think you've ever disliked your cousins until these embarrassing moments. Being entirely stuck for words as Matty laughs at the information your cousin just divulged, it's your boyfriend who raises his eyebrows and says, "Wow, all these rumours are really not helping the cause of you not being obsessed with me."

Immediately you sink back into your seat and huff, "Don't flatter yourself."

"Oh," Matty giggles, "But it's the talk of the town, baby." You're about to lean across and punch his arm, but the child beside you pipes back up, confirming his own suspicions when he asks you, "Is it him?" But when you hesitate in answering, he just turns to your boyfriend, "You sing Chocolate, right?"

"That's me." Matty's grin has turned into a shit eating one, and he only glances at you before giving Zack all his attention and offers him a high five and a, "Nice to meet you, bud."

Immediately, like any child before their teens, he returns your boyfriends high five excitedly and it seems that he loves Matty from that gesture alone. Probably even more so after Zack outs you again. "By the way," Your little cousin continues telling Matty, "She told me she'd take me to one of your concerts when I'd be old enough and it still hasn't happened."

Noting Zack's dramatic emphasis on the word 'still', Matty is just as dramatic when he looks at you, shaking his head like he's wildly disappointed in you, "Now that's just rude, Y/N."

"Okay, listen," You hold your hand up and gesture to your little cousin, "You're barely even ten."

Zack looks hurt when he half shouts, "I'm eleven!" And your little bitch of a boyfriend nods at Zack saying, "That sounds old enough to me."

"See!" The little dirty blond smiles like your boyfriend just gave him a piece of cake, "I am old enough."

"Don't worry, you'll be going to the next one mate. I'll put you on the guestlist." Matty promises him, with the condition of, "Just don't start swearing when you hear me swear, okay? And then you can come to more than just one show, okay?" Zack says a big thank you and quickly hugs your boyfriend before sticking his tongue out at you playfully, making you laugh, and he runs back to his parents to tell them the good news.

You shake your head but can't take the smile off your face when you sigh, "You're just spoiling them now."

"It's only a concert." Matty shrugs like it's no big deal. "Can't believe you didn't treat them." You scoff, "Where you pretend to fucking toss yourself off, excuse me for not taking them to this tour when I knew what it'd be like."

"I'll change it up for them next time, for Still At Their Very Best." Matty promises with a smile, "I've got ideas already."

"God, I absolutely dread to think." You mumble, wondering what in the hell you're eventually going to have to subject your family too.

Matty smirks at your fake distaste, but he can't fight the need to kiss that pout off your face. He reaches down to the metal of your seat and pulls your chair right beside his, and as soon as you're close enough he cups your cheek and gives you a gentle kiss. You all but melt at his touch, and Matty is so in awe at the way you react to him, loving how it's like fate brought you together as you so seamlessly fit. But he can't help but tease his beautiful girlfriend, "You act like you won't come to every show with me."

You hum in amusement as he taps the tip of your nose, but you play right back. He needs a taste of his own medicine with how big his head is right now.  "Not if Arctic Monkeys are touring," You can't take the smile from your lips as you peck his pillowy lips once more, "I'm going round with Flo. We've already arranged it."

Matty sighs, closing his eyes for a second as he nods, "Of course you have."

You find yourself unable to stop yourself from giggling at his reaction because bringing the Monkeys up was always a fun way to step on his ego. Despite the bruise you've just left, your boyfriend starts chuckling too as the party sweeps you back up.

The DJ announces that the buffet is served and you patiently watch the hungry wolves descend before you get up yourselves. As you're both eyeing up what food you fancy, another of your little cousins come over. Matty notices straight away that the little girl, maybe about 9 years old, recognises him. The shock on the little blonde's face makes it evident, but more so that when she stands right beside the both of you, she's jaw dropped as she looks at him and says, "Oh my god! You're the guy who says 'One, Two, fucking jump'!"

The gasp that leaves your lips is instant and loud, and Matty has to hold in his laugh as you lean down and tell her, "I've told you that you're not allowed to say that unless the song is on."

Immediately the little girl, who Matty thinks from the resemblance alone must be Zack's little sister, runs off giggling and you stand back up properly taking a deep breath. It takes everything in your boyfriend not to laugh at you again being outed by your family, but he doesn't let you get away with it. When you look back at him, he asks curiously, "Why have you been teaching kids that?"

"I was babysitting and they were asking what concerts I'd been to so we put on live at the O2 and of course they picked up on that bit." You sigh, shaking your head, but then you poke your boyfriend in the chest a few times as you say, "So if we think about it, it's your fault really."

It was Matty's turn to gasp and shake his head then, and after debating it for a few minutes the both of you ended up agreeing to disagree. The food was glorious and Olly came over to eat with you both taking a respite from being his Mums show pony for a bit, and being unable to hold back all of you went back up to get second helpings of the buffet because it was too good to go to waste.

Just after Olly left you, again being dragged away into a conversation with his Mum and another of her friends, you saw your little cousin Sam heading towards you again. This time a plate full of crisps and brownies in his hands and after plopping them on the table, the little 7 year old comes around so he can sit with you.

As you lift him up and place him on your knee so he's facing Matty, you kiss the top of his head and smile as you ask, with a hint of warning, "You gonna try again?"

"Erm, yeah." The little man giggles a little shyly before he looks at your boyfriend and smiles, "Hi, I'm Sam."

"Hiya Sam," Matty grins, and offers him a high five, "Nice to meet you. I'm Matty."

"Yeah, I know." Sam nods and proudly tells your boyfriend with a big smile, "Auntie Y/N taught me."

"Oh yeah? I bet she has." Matty grins, his eyes flicking from Sam to you and you glare back at him. Even more so when he asks him, "What did she teach you?"

"Your names, your bands name," Your little cousin starts holding up his fingers as he counts, "And the lyrics to your songs."

"Really?" Matty raises his eyebrows entirely amused and not at all surprised anymore. Your boyfriend pries further, "Does Auntie Y/N/N go on about me all the time?"

"No." Leaves your lips immediately but simultaneously little Sam nods, "Yes she does."

And Matty snorts, inclined to believe your cousin over you after all he's heard tonight so he grins at the little boy and half whispers, "I knew it."

Sam starts laughing at that, noting your distaste when you whisper, "You traitor." In his ear which makes him laugh even louder. You can't even pretend you're upset with him because he's just too god damn cute.

But he becomes even cuter when he leans closer to Matty and asks, "Is George actually your best friend?"

Your boyfriend's face lights up at the mention of his friend, and Matty nods in confirmation, "Yeah he is."

"He's so tall!" Sam yells as he raises his arms above his head as high as they will go to try and emphasise just how tall George is, and you think that he would be just as enamoured meeting George as he is with Matty.

Matty chuckles, "I know." Not being able to help but slowly fall in love with the child who's snuggled into your lap.

Each time you kiss his short dark hair, Matty finds his heart skipping a beat. Seeing you with the kid is making him think about the possibilities of your future together and he loves the way he can see it so clearly, he quickly realises just how desperately he wants that for the both of you.

Although, Matty might reconsider when little Sam tells him, "Auntie Y/N/N laughed once and called you the short one."

"Of course she did." Matty shakes his head, looking up at you disapprovingly before he points between the two of us and declares, "Divorced."

Your jaw falls at that which makes little Sam laugh loudly. Matty offers Sam a fist bump as they both start laughing and you let Sam slip from your lap so he can close the distance to Matty on his own two feet.

After the very excitable fist bump Matty ruffles the little man's hair before he wanders off and goes back to playing with your other little cousins. You look back at your gorgeous curly haired brunette and ask, "Divorced then?"

"Oh absolutely not," Matty smirks, shuffling his seat right beside yours so he can wrap his arm around the back of you and he pulls you against him as he whispers in your ear, "Wouldn't know how to live without you now baby, you're mine. Always."

Feeling him plant a quick kiss just under your ear has you needing to take another few seconds to steady your thundering heart after hearing those words. God you love him so so much, and it means more to you that he's still saying all these things after you've been outed all evening by various members of your family.

Just after your little moment, Olly comes back over with more drinks for the two of you, courtesy of your Uncle who just bought a round. And after that people start getting up to dance, so it is hard to stay sitting down when the dance floor gets crowded and you have an excuse to enjoy the music with your boyfriend.

Your cheeks hurt from grinning so hard by the time you get thirsty enough to leave your boyfriend's side and go to the bar. You don't think you'll ever forget the way Matty sang Crazy in Love by Beyonce to you with his arm clutching you tightly against him. Those three words hung on the tip of your tongue and were so close to slipping out during the entirety of that song.

You didn't even have it in you to be embarrassed of the heated kiss you gave Matty when the song came to an end, hoping that the perfect fit of your lips and the rush of emotions that exuded from your pores was felt and understood by him.

When you get to the bar, you look over your shoulder to see your boyfriend taking a seat by your table again. It was pathetic how the bartender catches you staring at the man of your dreams and has to call for you twice before you come out of your trance to give him your order.

The heat in your cheeks doesn't leave, not even when the bartender hands you the drinks and you thank him. But the blush of your cheeks only becomes more noticeable when you turn around to make way back to Matty and you see him with your precious little Sam sitting on his knee, chatting his ear off.

When getting closer to your two favourite boys, your heart flips seeing both of their big grins. You commit the moment to memory as best you can because you don't think you've ever seen anything cuter. However, your doting turns to shock when you get closer and you hear Sam ask your boyfriend a rather shocking question.

"Right, so did you actually get shot and how much money did you steal from that shop?"

"Erm," You stop dead in your tracks as you put your drinks down, and you look between them as you ask, "What's going on?"

Both of them seem to be too involved in their conversation because they ignore you and Matty explains, "Well you see, that wasn't real so I didn't actually get shot but I reckon I took a lot of money."

At that point you understand that they are talking about the Robbers music video that you've put on the clean version of in the past for him. The kid was so smart though that despite not seeing a gun he spotted the blood on Matty so you had to gently explain that he got shot, but that he was okay and fine now.

Little Sam smiles and hugs your boyfriend, "Good. Proud of you, Uncle Matty."

That right there, that Uncle Matty melted both Matty's heart and your own. You don't think you've heard anything cuter and it means the world to the both of you in different ways. You can see it in Matty's eyes, which instantly fall on you at the sound of those words coming from little Sam.

Both of you feel like something locks into place as if that alone is the confirmation of it all. He's yours entirely, and you're his, and neither of you plan on changing that at all. You're sure that an I love you passes between you in that moment. Maybe it's not verbalised, but the way you both look at each screams it, but unfortunately it's not the time or the place to tell each other right now.

"So, Sam," Matty clears his throat a little after giving your little cousin another tight squeeze, "What's your favourite song?"

"Ermmm," Sam thinks for a few seconds before looking at you as he inquires, "The one with all the colours and the numbers." And you can't help but smile at the memories of you having a dance around your Mum and Dads lounge with Sam in your arms as you taught him the fun song.

"TooTime?" Matty starts singing the chorus of it to him then, holding his fingers up for each of the numbers and Sam happily sings along knowing every word.

Both of them succeed in melting your heart even more and love Matty's giggle once he's finished when he asks your little cousin, "Ah yes that's a good one, innit?"

"I love it!" Sam shouts, trying to show just how much he loves it. Matty chuckles at him then, and he happily asks, "Do you want to sing it with me on Karaoke later?"

"Yes!" Little Sam cheers, throwing his arms up in excitement, "I know all of it!"

"Oh wow," Matty gasps and grins showing just how impressed he is with the little guy, "Your Auntie Y/N has taught you very well." Sam nods then looking at you brightly, and you can't help but grin back. He's the most adorable little 6 year old in the world with his ebony hair and green eyes. 

"She's my favourite." Sam tells Matty but it's loud enough for you to hear and you can't help the smile that comes to your face. But your joy slowly slips to curiosity when Matty covers his mouth as he whispers into your little cousin's ear, and slowly you watch as Sam's face lights up. You try but you can't hear what he tells your little cousin over the music that the DJ is playing for the now drunk women on the dancefloor.

So you lean forward and tap Sam's knee, asking, "What's he saying?"

Little Sam looks up at Matty, smiles, and then looks back to you and smirks, "Can't tell you."

You exaggerate your gasp before you say, "You can't have secrets from your favourite."

Sam's very smug when he declares, "Uncle Matty's also my favourite so I can." You playfully narrow your eyes at the child in your boyfriend's lap, but you can't help but adore the way Matty's face lights up at what he said. Whether it was just in jest or not, he loves that he's already being welcomed into the family with open arms.

"When did you get so sassy?" You ask Sam, and when he only offers you a small shrug in answer, you start standing up when you say, "And I'm telling Uncle Olly he's not your favourite Uncle anymore."

Hearing that makes Sam's eyes go wide, "No!"

"I'm telling him right now." You say as you start walking away from the table with a grin on your face.

"Auntie Y/N!" Your little cousin shouts as he scrambles from Matty's lap and chases after you.

Your boyfriend can't help but laugh at the cute scene playing out. He watches as you walk over to Olly who's at the bar with more of his family and Sam is yelling no at you, pleading with you not to spill his secret.

As he watches Olly's jaw dramatically fall though, Matty knows the classified information is out and it's funny watching little Sam be picked up by Olly who he gives a big hug too, and afterwards he's passed to you where you also receive a hug and a big kiss to your cheek.

Matty watches on with adoration in his eyes, loving seeing you so happy. All Matty hopes now is that Sam doesn't reveal their own little secret of what he whispered into his ear.

"Keep it a secret for me, but she's my favourite too. I love her lots."

~*~*~*~

With the kids up on the dancefloor, finally entertaining each other instead of embarrassing you, Matty and you get a moment to breathe. Something which leads to your Mum and Auntie waving the both of you over to them and after sitting down at the circular table, you and Matty fall into easy conversation with them.

You're sitting beside Matty and your Auntie, and your Mum's on your boyfriend's other side, and you and your boyfriend love being filled in on your family gossip that your Auntie has managed to acquire all evening. And you can't help but laugh at how eager Matty looks to be soaking in all of the rumours and theories the sisters have to offer considering he doesn't know half the people that they're talking about.

"So Matty," Your Mum asks, moving the conversation on and gaining his full attention, "When do you go back on tour?"

"Oh well, we have SNL on the eleventh of March and then we pretty much go straight on to doing festivals." Your boyfriend explains.

Your Mum tilts her head a little when she asks, "SNL?" Looking to you for an explanation which you don't hesitate to give her.

"It's that American sketch show that's on at midnight with all of the 'comedians' but they have musical guests on too." You tell them, you're Auntie nodding along in recognition.

"Oh," Your Mum's eyes flick straight back to Matty, her smile is bright as she says, "That sounds fun."

"I think it is to some people. It's entirely too American for me." Matty tells her and your Auntie honestly with a waft of his hand, "But they have us there practising for a full week before even when we've done months of practising the songs on tour."

Needless to say when the announcement went out that they were on SNL you were a little gutted to find that the band weren't going to be involved in any of the sketches themselves. But you guess the average American audience isn't going to want 4 men from Wilmslow when they could have Jenna Ortega instead.

There are mumbles from the sisters about how annoying the rehearsing must be for your boyfriend and the band, but then your Mum turns towards you and asks, "Are you joining him, Y/N/N?"

"Unfortunately, I'll be on the other side of the country," You pout, hating the fact that their SNL date is the night before the Oscars. You smile, "But I'll certainly be watching on TV."

Matty shuffles his chair a bit closer to yours as he proposes over the music, resting his hand on your thigh as he does, "You could join me earlier in the week if you fancy it?"

"I'll have a look what the plan is for rehearsals and meetings beforehand but everything's so busy." You sigh really wishing you could because you'd love to explore New York as you've yet to go. Matty nods understandingly as you lace your fingers with his on your thigh and give him a squeeze. But before he can respond, your auntie chips in, putting her hand on the table in front of you and taps.

"Speaking of," She starts, and gives you her raised eyebrow look that screams you're about to be told off, "You've been so busy you've not done any more book videos recently!"

"I know, I'm sorry," You sigh and pout a bit, half feeling like you've let both her and yourself down since you haven't read and reacted to her or your Mum's recommendations. "I'll jump back in soon. I swear."

You continue to explain yourself, "I've got Amelia's cooking show to edit this week and the Oscar's to prepare for so no updates yet unfortunately."

"Terrible." Your Auntie shakes her head in fake disapproval which makes you laugh so you blow her a kiss to appease her.

As she catches it and pretends to pocket it for later, you catch Matty looking at you curiously, and after raising an eyebrow at him, he asks you, "Book videos?"

"You know how Amelia's got her cooking show as a side gig from Chicken Shop Date?" You ask and Matty nods, having seen that on her instagram in the past, so you continue to explain, "Yeah, well I do like book reviews and stuff on TikTok and Instagram."

"Wait, what?" Matty blinks a couple of times, entirely confused because he's never come across this before. "Why haven't I seen this? I've not even seen you reading."

Yes, he'd seen a bookshelf that was filled back at your flat and books above your desk but nothing that screamed you were a massive reader. A book hoarder maybe, but you'd never even mentioned it to him. Nevermind having not seen anything on your social media about you reading, or being big into giving reviews on them.

"It's on a side account, I keep it separate. Don't post about it on my main account all that often." You explain, before you give him an accusing look, "And I think your tour kept me a bit preoccupied, didn't it? Definitely didn't have time to read then."

Matty almost starts laughing, "It's been a while since tour, baby."

"Okay," You sigh in defeat, but you try and evade the blame regardless by passing it on to him, "You've kept me preoccupied then. No time for reading at the moment."

Your boyfriend hums, accepting his fate for now and not bringing up the fact that you've been deep in your Oscars research for the last few weeks and stressing yourself out over that. His distractions he thinks were the best stress relievers for you, but little did he know you had a different hobby that could have been just as effective. Maybe he'll take you out book shopping in the next few days to treat you to whatever you fancy as a good luck present before he flies to America.

"And I think you forget you only started following me personally in October, life's been pretty hectic for us both since then." You raise your eyebrows at him, but your boyfriend just rolls his eyes playfully knowing you'd pin the blame on him even more somehow.

"Show me?" Matty asks, leaning closer like his proximity will convince you further.

He feels like he needs to find this other piece of your jigsaw. He's half upset with himself that he didn't pick up on your love for literature before now, and the instant you show him he will be following your account.

You smile, tilting your head a little and you look into those gorgeous brown eyes promising, "Later."

"Okay." Matty agrees with a grin before leaning in that bit more and pressing a kiss to your lips.

You savour the first peck you've received in a while and you can't get the smile off your face. Not even as you look back across the table to your Mum and Aunt who are looking at the both of you like gossiping school girls, and you already know you're about to get some teasing.

Your Auntie Sharon can't help but ask you, "Do you feel like you're living some teenage dream?"

Matty cackles at that and pulls you into his side, so you just let your head rest on his shoulder as you giggle and nod, "Every day," and you love the smile the sisters send your way.

It's easy for both you and Matty to see that they are overjoyed with just how happy you are. Matty doesn't think he's ever quite seen so much love shine from a mother and auntie and it makes your boyfriend so beyond happy to see just how much your family adore you and want the best for you. And he loves the fact that he seems to have their approval, if their reactions are anything to go by. He's unable to stop himself from kissing the top of your head.

"Speaking of," Matty says, pulling back for a moment so you can see him again, and he has the biggest grin you've ever seen on his lips, "I wanna see your room."

Immediately you remember that you need to gut the place as soon as you get back home. Your Mum starts silently pissing herself at Matty's request and you know your Aunt has seen the state of your bedroom too so she knows the panic you must be feeling. You 100% can not have him see the posters of his band on your wall, so you just chuckle and shake your head, "Not until later."

And thankfully Matty doesn't get the chance to pry because your 3 little cousins run up to the both of you and start begging your boyfriend to join them on karaoke which he agrees to very quickly. And it is one of the best moments of the night when you see the four of them up there singing, the kids really needing the autotune Matty normally has on but it's adorable nevertheless. And your heart all but stops when your boyfriend gets them all dancing, but it's when Zack and his little sister Macie pull you up with them to dance too which is the most fun. Because never in your life has it been hard to dance to one of Matty's songs.

Afterwards the night seems to pass by in a blur of dancing, loud music, and alcohol. Around 10, the kids end up leaving as they are all slowly falling asleep and the parents take them home but not before you kiss your little cousins goodbye.

After Olly leaves, you and Matty stick to yourselves in the booth that the three of you were once occupying. And the rest of your night is spent drinking and people watching from your quiet corner of the room.

You're unsure how, but you end up sitting in Mattys lap, his hold on your waist tight to keep you cosied up to him and your legs are over him, his other hand gently stroking the back of your thigh. The anecdotes of your family has Matty giggling and he loves hearing you talk about them with such delight clear in your voice.

The joy sticks with the both of you as you leave and make it back to your parents house. Your family's drunk antics have you all giggling in the back of the taxi and the laughter continues once you're all inside your childhood home.

Your Dad heads straight for the kitchen for another beer and he offers Matty one which he politely declines after your Mum offers him a cup of tea instead. You jump on the brew order, not needing to be any more tipsy than you already are and so your Mum puts your Dad to work making those.

Just as Matty's slipping his shoes off in the hall, he asks you, "Where's your toilet?"

"Upstairs, and it's the second door on the left." You tell him, "Don't get lost."

"I'll endeavour not to." Your boyfriend smiles before quickly kissing your cheek and jogging up the stairs.

You can't quite get the grin off your face as you head into the lounge, and you see your Mum smiling at you and you give her a hug because you could never give the gorgeous woman enough of them. She embraces you like any loving mother should, giving you a long warm hug which you realise how much you miss not being at your disposal all the time. When you pull back from her, she doesn't let you go far, holding your shoulders as she gives you a look that screams she's about to be serious.

"So," She starts.

You're a bit nervous asking, "So?"

"You're happy?" Your Mum asks, and you all but breathe a sigh of relief.

You promise her, a smile growing on your face as you nod, "The happiest I've been in a long time."

"It shows, darling." She grins, and rubs your arms a little as she continues, "I'm so thrilled for you."

"You approve then?" You ask after giggling a little.

"Not that us not approving would make a single bit of difference to you going out with the man who you've got posters of in your bedroom." Your Mum laughs a bit but nods, "He's a gentleman, couldn't ask for any better."

Your stomach drops slightly, still stuck on the first thing she said, "I need to take them down," You panic knowing there's a fair bit of 1975 memorabilia in your bedroom, so you plead with her, "You'll have to distract him for me in a bit."

"I will happily chat his ears off. And yes, we approve." You Mum chuckles, but then her words almost make you cry when she softly grabs your hand and squeezes as she says, "It'd be difficult not to when you see someone caring for your daughter and making her so happy."

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you pull her into another tight hug and after a second of being in her embrace you whisper, "Thank you Mum. Love you."

"Love you more," She tells you before your Dad shouts that your drinks are ready in the kitchen.

The cup of tea was a much needed rest bite after a night of drinking, but you realise how much time has passed when you're half way through your brew and Matty's still not come down to collect his. "He's been up there a while." You hum aloud, getting slightly paranoid he's in your bedroom, planning an escape after seeing himself on your bedroom walls.

Your Dad laughs, "Still on the toilet or snooping?"

"Either is plausible. He also could have fallen asleep." You chuckle, but then you decide to grab both of your brews and head upstairs, "I'll go up and make sure he's not stuck in the bathroom."

"Night lovie." Your Mum blows you a kiss after your Dad says, "Goodnight."

"Night night." You smile before heading up.

And you know your fears are confirmed that your boyfriend is in fact having a nosey when you see that your bedroom door is open and the light is on. Sighing slightly, you prepare to bite the bullet and you step into your old room and see that your boyfriend is standing, staring at your poster filled walls.

"You're a snoop." You shake your head as you put your mugs down on your bedside table.

Matty's head flies around to look at you then, and thankfully instead of seeing horror, his face is full of amusement.

"Can you blame me?" Your boyfriend chuckles, looking back at your walls, "I feel like I've just walked into your head."

He's not far wrong with that analogy. There's the big black and white 1975 poster on your wall which is the same as the picture inside the self titled vinyl of the boys in 2013. Smaller posters surround it, some of other musicians like Lana Del Rey, The Neighbourhood, and you have a bigger Arctic Monkeys one from the AM era not far from it.

Horrifyingly for you though, there's a lot more 1975 stuff around your room though, whether that be the vinyls proudly displayed on your shelves, lyrics posters, little drawings of the band you found online in your youth that you were gifted for your birthday. Not to mention pictures you had printed out from their various gigs you've been to over the year. There was a lot of memorabilia to say the least, and you just have to pray your boyfriend doesn't run in the other direction.

On the brighter side, looking at your bedroom now you realise that if you posted a picture of it to Tumblr back in the day you'd have gone viral long before Chicken Shop Date ever existed. What a wasted opportunity, because you certainly won't be doing so now.

"Yeah twenty-year-old-me's head." You chuckle, because if you don't laugh at yourself, you will cry. "You don't consume my head like this anymore."

Matty glances at you then and his look screams that he doesn't believe a word that's just left your lips. Which in fairness it was a bit of a lie, but he consumes your thoughts now in a much different way to what he did back then. You loved his music and the version of himself he let the world see back then, but now you're in love with him, the real him, more and more so every day.

You hum truthfully, "There's a few more posters I'd have up now of a few other people."

"Slightly offended," Matty nods, turning properly towards you then, "But I'll allow it."

Your boyfriend steps to just in front of you then, and he grabs your hands and squeezes them for a second before he moves closer and holds your hips to his instead. There's a small hopeful smile on your face then, feeling like from the gesture alone you don't have to be scared of the answer to your question, "Scared you off?"

Matty silently chuckles at that, and he looks so lovingly into your eyes that you're sure your heart skips a beat as he says, "You'd have to have a lot worse than posters of my band on your wall to scare me off baby."

You hum, your grin getting bigger as you wrap your arms around his neck and start twirling the curls at the back of his head. "You don't know about a few things."

"The cardboard cutout of me in your wardrobe?" Matty can't help but grin with a raised eyebrow.

Your jaw falls open, and you're fully frozen for a moment before you gasp, "You massive snoop!"

Matty quickly kisses your shock away with a laugh before pulling out of your grasp and heading over to the guilty wardrobe. He looks so excited to reveal it, it makes you want to die. "No, your Mum told me about that one." Matty gets the door, opening it to reveal that on the back of the door is a 2014 him with his hair flicked over to one side of his head, wearing a denim jacket and black skinny jeans.

Whilst you're mortified because your boyfriend has seen a cardboard cutout of himself, you can't help the small smile that forms on your lips in reaction to that picture of him. It's always been one of your favourites, but it seems Matty doesn't feel the same way.

Matty's frowning as he looks at himself, "That's such an awkward picture of me."

"Don't you dare," You slap his shoulder, upset that he feels that way about that picture of himself, "It was one of my favourites."

Matty hums, looking between you and the life-sized cutout before asking you accusingly, "How many times have you kissed it?"

"No," Your face immediately flushes then, and your hands come up to hide yourself from him as you scorn, "Stop it Matthew."

Your boyfriend can't help the loud laugh that leaves his lips then, your reaction alone being confirmation enough for him. "I'll take that as more than once." Matty chuckles as he wraps his arms around you and lifts you up twirling you around which makes a little surprised squeal leave you.

It ends up with you both giggling and as Matty places you back on solid ground, he's unable to stop himself from gently grabbing your chin and guiding your lips to his. Only then does a satisfied hum leave his lips, feeling like he's been starved of your kisses all night in comparison to how you've been together the past few weeks.

You stand there for a little while, blissed out in each other's company as you kiss, needing it after a long night of you being surrounded by others. Your little bubble is back and you take full advantage of having him back all to yourself. The love you have for this man radiates from you and you hope that he can feel it despite you still not being brave enough to say it out loud. But at this point words aren't necessary, the way you are with each other speaks volumes and it's clear to everyone who sees you that the two of you are in love. And you can both feel it too.

Once you eventually catch up on lost time from having his lips on your own, you take a seat on your bed after handing Matty his brew and you start finishing your own as your boyfriend carries on looking around your bedroom. 

"Now I know you're into reading, I'm only just realising how many books you have." He smiles, glancing over the shelves across the top of your picture rail that are filled to the brim with books.

"Yeah," You hum, looking at them with a smile on your face before you explain, "They are all in different spots in my flat so I guess it's not as obvious it's a hobby."

"You have so many." Matty smiles, and after taking a sip of his tea he asks, "Have you read them all?"

"God no," You shake your head, "Probably most of them, but the aim is to fill out a little library room in my future home. That's the dream... Rolling ladder and everything."

The smile Matty gives you then makes your heart warm, and it's every girl's dream that their boyfriend responds to that dream with, "I'm down to make that happen."

As you take your last gulp of your tea, Matty moves over to the set of books that are proudly displayed on top of your chest of drawers and asks, "What are these books with the tabs in?"

And seeing the multicoloured series combined with your boyfriend picking one up, it makes you almost spit your tea out. Attempting to remain calm, you shake your head and nod to the red book in his hand, "We don't talk about these books. Pretend you never saw them."

Matty flips it round to see the cover properly and starts, "A Court of-"

"No," You all but yelp as you stand and grab the book from his hand and place it nearly back with the others in the series, "You never saw them, ignore them."

"Hard to ignore when there's so many notes in them." Matty raises his eyebrows at you.

"Hush." You say, grabbing his free hand and pulling him back towards your bed, "You've just reminded me I need to text Flo."

"What you texting her about?" Your boyfriend asks as you get her contact up on your phone, "I've not done anything wrong, have I?

"No," You chuckle, squeezing his hand before you let it go as you sit on your bed and start typing, "You're good. I promise."

Just wondering if it was you or Alex who read acomaf and he wrote body paint bc you recreated a specific chapter????? Let me know 👀x

Matty sees you grinning as you type out your text, so he has to ask, "What you messaging her?"

As your boyfriend tries to be nosy and sits beside you, trying to look over at your phone, after sending the message you lock your phone and smile at him. You briefly lean towards him and place a kiss on his cheek after you say, "That's for me and her to know and for you and Alex to find out."

Matty hums and kisses your lips, but then he smirks as he says, "Sounds like a fun night."

You burst out laughing, "Shut up."

And in the morning you'll be laughing again when you see Florence's reply of, I'll leave you to your own deductions, but I'll say there's more than one reason I call him Darling... If you know what I mean 😜😘x

Feeling the day start to catch up with you, you start getting yourself ready for bed, getting your pyjamas on and you leave Matty in your room as you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth. You're happily washing your face still with the slight buzz all the alcohol you had tonight mixed with feeling head over heels in love, and you look at yourself in the mirror and notice just how happy you are.

You truly don't think you've ever been this happy in yourself. Everything in your life is currently so amazing and has a magical feel to it, you hope that this joy you're feeling never ends. You have a career which is only flourishing more and more now you and Amelia are getting the credit you've long deserved, your family are all happy and healthy, and you have a boyfriend who makes you feel like a princess and who you're madly in love with.

However, happiness like this can't last forever. And your boyfriend makes damn sure of that. From the bathroom, you hear him shout your name and when you respond, he asks, "Why have you marked a page where the guy says, 'Put your hands on the headboard.'?"

You all but choke on the air in your lungs, and you can see your now horrified expression in the mirror as you yell back, "No, STOP!"

"You dirty bitch," Matty laughs loudly, "You marked all of the sex scenes."

You barely dry your face before running back to your room and see the horrific sight that is Matty Healy reading A Court Of Silver Flames on your bed. It's all forms of wrong, mostly because he's reading the smut, but also because he's reading the 5th instalment of the series first and that's crazy spoilers.

It gets worse for you when you see him flick to another of your tabs earlier in the book and his eyes go wide after he looks at the page and then to you and there is the beginnings of a smirk on his lips as he asks, "They did what under the table?"

"Matty, give me the book." You hold your hand out to it, but your boyfriend has none of it.

His eyes are back on the page, no doubt reading the notes you annotated on the page, and he can't help but laugh, "So that's where you learned to do that."

At this point you've had enough, fully scurrying over your bed and throwing a leg over to straddle him to try and pin him down to your bed as you try and get your book back. "That book came out two years ago. I knew how to do that long before," You make it very clear.

Matty can only cackle, trying to push himself up and raising the book above his head so it's out of your reach. He shakes his head at you, but his smile is coy and suggestive as he looks at you accusingly, "You filthy little slut."

"Don't call me that when you've just read that." You warn him, shaking your head, one hand thankfully now on your book, "I know what you're doing."

"Caught me." Matty chuckles, still not releasing your novel though. He smirks as he says, "You're still a slut though."

You sigh at that and just decide to own it and shrug with a little smile finding its way to your lips. But you can't help but laugh when Matty adds, "My slut." And you just quickly lean down and press a kiss to his lips to shut him up.

When you finally pry the book from your boyfriend's hands and he laughs at you for quite a while, but you just put it back where it belongs before getting yourself into bed. Matty then decides he wants to do his skincare which makes you whine, not bothering to do yours tonight, and after you told him this he decided that he was going to be the one to take on the task.

After telling him off for using far too much product both on his face and your own, the both of you settle into bed, only being disturbed by your Mum knocking on your door to ask if Matty was indeed snooping. You all laugh after you tell her that he was and your boyfriend tries to defend himself which makes you scoff. Your Mum just laughs along before bidding the both of you goodnight.

Fifteen minutes pass of you and Matty catching up on the day's events that you might have missed on your phones. But then Matty gets carried away when he asks for your BookTok account and you reluctantly show him which leads to him going down a rabbit hole with your videos for another 10 minutes before you confiscate his phone and tell him that he can look at more tomorrow.

Now, you're both cuddled up in the darkness of your room, breathing each other in and you're practically melting into your boyfriend as his hand is routed in your hair, giving you a head massage. You're getting sleepy now, the alcohol definitely catching up with you and being so warm in the arms of the man you love only adds to the comfort and peacefulness.

Before you succumb to sleep, you say, "Thank you for being so lovely with my family tonight."

"Thank you for inviting me, baby." Matty smiles, kissing your forehead softly as he adds, "I had a lovely time."

"Truly Matty," You say, sounding a little more awake as you really want him to know how genuine you are when you say, "Thank you for being so lovely, especially with the kids."

Matty is smiling at the memory of all of you on the dancefloor earlier this evening when he tells you honestly, "I love kids. It was no trouble at all."

You hum, already knowing just how good he was with children. Seeing him with Adam and Carly's little boy was enough proof of that, but him being equally as adorable with your family really melted your heart. It certainly had you thinking about future possibilities.

"I think Sam liked you." You whisper into his neck. Matty hums in agreement, and after a few seconds he replies, "I think Sam's my favourite of them, if I'm allowed to say that."

"I don't think we're supposed to admit it, but he's my favourite too." You spill your little secret. You do miss the nights you were babysitting him a lot, you miss him like crazy and you are definitely going to arrange for him to come to your flat again soon so you can spoil him rotten.

You can't get over tonight though, the memories replaying quickly in your mind leads you to be grinning like a fool as you say, "You doing karaoke with him might have been my favourite moment of tonight."

Matty's kissing your forehead again and you expect another hum of agreement, but he surprises you when he says, "My favourite moment was finding that cardboard cut out."

Immediately you slap his bare chest and tell him, "Stop it right now," as you feel yourself flush.

Matty can't help his cackle then, but he has to push you a little, "What would nineteen year old you be thinking right now if she knew ten years later I'd be in this bed with you?"

You chuckle at that, and there's no hesitation in your answer, "She'd be saying 'fuck the risks, get all his clothes off'." You tease him then and let your hand run down his chest until your fingertips are tracing the elastic of his boxers.

Matty's breath catches in his throat for a second then, but he thinks he does well at restraining himself when he just brushes his lips against your ear and encourages, "You're more than welcome to."

You smirk, loving the thought but you're having none of it, "Absolutely not."

Matty chuckles knowing it was coming and he can only say he's thankful that you move your hand from his waistband before any more sinful thoughts run through his mind. Although he thinks the fact he's quite literally on your walls and the revelation he's had about you reading smutty books, he does think you'd quite enjoy what he has in mind. Maybe another time though.

There's a few minutes of silence between you then, and you're very nearly asleep when your boyfriend asks, "Got anything else you wanna tell me baby?"

By your slow and sleepy response alone, Matty knows he's lucky he caught you still awake, "Nothing else yet until we're married with kids so you can't run away scared."

"Come on, can't be that bad." He encourages.

You hum, "It is." But you're happy enough as there's no way in hell you're telling him a thing.

Matty lets the silence pass between you then, and you're about to slip into sleep until he speaks back up. And your world cracks with his words, "Is it the fanfiction you wrote about me?"

Pulling out of his grasp immediately, you feel wide awake with your heart beating out of your chest as you stumble asking, "How- H- How do you know about that?" Your blood has certainly just run cold and you're sure that if there was any light in the room you would look extremely ill because you certainly feel it. Never have you felt so mortified in your life.

But Matty's just grinning as he explains, "Dimz is very keen on embarrassing you when she's drunk."

"I hate her so much." You curse her as you roll away from him and hide into your pillow, willing your bed to suffocate you.

Matty just laughs at your reaction though and follows you over to the other side of your bed. He doesn't let you escape, instead he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you gently back into him as he says into your ear, "I wanna know what it's called and what it was about."

"Absolutely not, no, never." You mumble into your pillow. 

After a few minutes of reassurance that he's not bothered by it, and he hasn't been put off by your deepest darkest secret, you vow that you're going to get Amelia back for her betrayal. Apparently he's known about it for a while and has never been fussed by the news, which might be the only blessing of the whole situation. Although you still would have preferred him to find out about it years, if not decades down the line.

Eventually, after a lot of coxing and playful kisses, he has you back facing him and you've relaxed against his warm body again. And you think your soul yearns for him once more when his nose rubs against yours as he whispers, "Obsessed with you baby."

"Obsessed with you too." You hum, a smile dancing over your lips which Matty can't help but kiss a few times.

Only when your kisses cease does he grin, "Oh, I know."

~*~*~*~ 7th March 2023 ~*~*~*~

Going to Los Angeles, for one of the most nerve-wracking weekends of your life, after having spent the best time with your family and your boyfriend was a change big enough to give you whiplash. Not to mention the horrendous jet lag that had messed up your schedule the first day in LA.

You and Amelia had been trying to fight the consequences of the change of time-zones, and the effects of your nerves when thinking of the upcoming events. At least you were able to be productive when you and your best friend were stuck being up during the night, and had started your practising of questions and notes about all the different people that would attend the Oscars After Party.

The day has been spent rehearsing, doing fittings for the content you were recording, and having a meeting with the Vanity Fair team. And though you've only done a few things, the day has felt so long; you could've shed tears of happiness when getting back to your hotel room. It is mostly because jet lag has been kicking your arse, so running yourself a bath and reading a book in the tub is your form of self-care tonight.

You do your skincare routine once out of the bath and let your hair air dry as you continue reading your book. However, your reading is interrupted when your phone starts ringing from where it landed on the bed after you tossed it as soon as you got back.

You almost don't go over to pick it up, but when you catch a glimpse of a silly photo of your boyfriend that you have as his contact picture, you almost throw the book over your shoulder and answer his call.

"How's your day going baby?" He says with a loopy smile as soon as you answer.

It's embarrassing the way your expression instantly falls into an enamoured one when you see his pretty face. For a second, you forget how draining the day has been, until you remember he asked you a question, "Yeah okay, thank you. It's just such a massive production, it's a lot to wrap my head around." When you think about it, you get nervous all over again, "I'm glad we got here a week before; lets it all sink in a bit more."

"Yeah and it's completely understandable that you'd need time to adjust to it," He can also see how tired you look, probably jet lag, and the nerves must be playing with you to make it worse. "Remember it's still only your third carpet like this and you've smashed it each time, so you're only gonna get better and better."

You roll your eyes at yourself because your insides melt when hearing him reassure you. A drunk-in-love giggle almost slips past your lips as you say, "Thank you baby, I hope so."

Matty is not having any doubt though, so he states, "You will."

If he keeps saying stuff like that, you will either cry because he's not next to you or simply manage to push those three words that keep coming to your mind when you see him, so you change the topic, "Well enough about me, how are your rehearsals going?"

You need the inside gossip on Saturday Night Live. Any and all details you'll happily eat up.

"It's okay, thank you. Just boring as fuck now the promo pictures and clips are done," The way he sighs and rolls his eyes in annoyance makes you giggle. He's a sassy one.

"Surely you get to see them practising the sketches," You reply excitedly, you had always been fascinated by the process behind SNL, "That must be cool."

He bursts your bubble by funnily pointing out, "No baby, it's so painfully American. Once you've seen it once. It's just shit."

"But you're so easily impressed," You joke with a smirk on your face. "How are you struggling?"

"Ha ha." He says dryly but a smile plays on those gorgeous lips, "You'd understand if you were here seeing it."

Your chest sinks a little as you say, "I'm sorry I can't be."

"Don't be silly, you're busy," Matty says quickly, taking it back because he did not mean to make it sound like that. There's a pout on your face though so to try and distract you, he continues updating you on his rehearsal process, "We're rehearsing for a few hours and then pissing about for the rest of the day."

That automatically piques your interest, "What have you been entertaining yourselves with?"

"Today I'm going to meet Caveh. Remember, he's the one I told you about that's basically fucked his marriage over the fact he's videoing every aspect of his life."

"Oh yeah. That should be interesting." The memory of Matty showing you about that man comes to the forefront of your mind, and after your boyfriend filled you in on some of the 'lore' behind him, you were very intrigued by him. So it would be fun to see what Matty could find out from meeting him.

Your boyfriend has been so fascinated by him that you can see his excitement through his expression, "Yeah, I'm looking forward to it."

"What else have you been occupying yourself with?" You further ask, because there is no way he has been able to stay in his hotel room doing nothing. He's full of energy, like a fucking golden retriever, and you know it very well.

Mysterious, as he always tries to be, he replies, "Something I actually need your help with soon."

You sigh, thinking back to the many things he had said prior to you parting ways, "Matty we've discussed this: I'm not sending nudes regardless of time difference."

"No baby, not that," He huffs funnily, before he backtracks and very honestly says, "Although I do want to FaceTime again later."

You narrow your eyes at him and deem him, "Filthy."

All smug, he shrugs, "You know me."

You shake your head at him, but your curiosity is itching you so you ask again, "What do you need me for other than your filthy habits?"

He sits up straight, and gets all serious, "So me and Jordan are filming some stuff, making it a bit of like a day-in-the-life thing but funny, hopefully. I was just wondering if you'd do the honour of editing it all together?" 

You're so intrigued by him proposing the idea that he's essentially recording vlogs, not expecting that from him at all, so you're even more intrigued now as to which direction he will take when making them because there is no way it isn't for a bit that will become something bigger. While you try to think what he could be actually doing, you're silent so your boyfriend takes this as hesitancy and quickly adds, "No pressure if not, Jordan can manage just fine but I'd really love to have you involved in some way or another. And I know just how good you are, so I thought I'd ask."

You can't help but pout at him for being so cute, "I'd love to, might just have to finish it up properly after the Oscars."

He nods childishly, "Of course, that's fine."

Looking at your state, in your bathrobe while laying atop of the bed, you actually tell him, "You can send me stuff in the meantime, I'm not doing much when we aren't rehearsing, in fittings, or revising."

He tuts at you, "You should be out and about exploring LA."

You shrug, "Yeah but I plan to stay out here a bit longer so I can do that afterwards."

"I'm gonna fly out to you after SNL," Your boyfriend states.

Biting your bottom lip, you get a bit shy when you think you don't want to burden him by cutting short his very much needed rest before resuming his world tour, "You don't have to if you wanna go home."

He doesn't even have to think about it, "Why would I wanna be at home if you're not there?"

You press your lips together, holding back from the urge to screech at his words. Instead you let out an unconvinced, "Home comforts?"

He rolls his eyes, before staring at you through the screen, "You're my home comfort. Wherever you are is home, baby."

You can't hold it together anymore, covering your face with one of your hands and fully melting into the mountain of plush pillows, "I'm still too jet lagged for you to be cute, don't make me cry."

He coos, "Don't want you crying baby. I do miss you though."

"I miss you too..." you pout at him, and he pouts back while fluttering his lashes at you. You laugh at his puppy face, "God we're so pathetic, it's only been a few days."

He grins big and bright, "Ahhh but we're young romantics, it's the way."

You sigh, thinking ahead, "God help us when you go back on tour."

"Don't remind me," he groans, running a hand over his face. "I do hope you can come to a few of them."

You hum, as if you're considering it, but when you see him frowning, you giggle and assure him, "I'm sure I'll get to some."

In a shy little voice, he proposes, "You can book off our next UK tour."

"Well of course..." You say, because that was always the plan. You remember a very important aspect of a certain show though, "Just let me know when it'll be and I'll round up the family for your London date."

Your heart practically leaps from your chest when you see his face light up at the mention of your family and all those he had invited over to the shows, "Yes, I can't wait to have all the fam there!"

Something very important comes to mind when you think about his shows, so you feel the urge to say, "But can you do me a favour though and stop being a slut and pulling your top up when you sing? It's very distracting."

"I'll try," he quips back with a smirk. "Don't want to out you as my whore to your whole family, right?"

Your jaw is basically on the floor at his words, but you're quick to get yourself together and reply with rosy cheeks, "Okay, save those thoughts for later Mr. Healy."

His voice drops an octave when he says, "Baby..." with that smirk that makes your knees weak.

But you need to be strong so you look away and go back to something else, "Anyway, tell me more about your funny vlogs. And what elaborate title have you come up with for this series of videos?"

"I don't like the fact you know I've come up with a big name," He has the audacity to say with a frown.

You roll your eyes sarcastically, "You're so predictable." a smile playing on your lips that you can't quite hide.

He offers you a blank face and no enthusiasm as he says, "Gee, thanks."

"Come on, what's it called?" You urge, knowing that it's something ridiculous.

He sighs and lets the silence linger for a little, your curiosity growing and showing on your face, before he lets out, "A Theatrical Performance of an Intimate Moment."

You're so confused at first, the 'intimate moment' bit throwing you off instantly, so you quickly declare, "Yeah, I will definitely steer clear of actually being in these videos."

"Why?" He asks, almost offended.

You can't believe he's asking why when it's so obvious, "It sounds like a shit sex tape!"

He scoffs, shaking his head entirely in disapproval, "You're a little shit."

"L-" You catch yourself before you say it. A sarcastic 'love you' is not how you want to say those words for the first time. But you realise again just how much you need to say those words to him soon, it's getting painful to withhold them now. You laugh to disguise your previous mistake before saying, "Little shit I might be, but it does sound like a porno."

He thinks about it for a second, smirking when he gets your point, "Well, if you put it that way... You sure you don't wanna star in it baby?"

~*~*~*~ SNL Day ~*~*~*~

Matty is having an awful day. The worst in fact. For the most part, he tried not to let it show. He first battled his feelings by recording another section of the A Theatrical Performance of an Intimate Moment, but clearly being trapped inside a suitcase for a prolonged period of time left Matty to stew in his thoughts for a long while which made his mood worse when he eventually escaped his self-inflicted trap.

While the bits he directed Jordan to record of George slamming the now empty suitcase into a wall did make him laugh, the deflating feelings stuck around. And Matty would love to say the reason is solely because he's had enough of this week being trapped in America and being forced to be on the set of a show they weren't needed for five days of rehearsals for, he's lying to himself.

Matty knows and has buried the reason he's in such a foul mood now only hours before showtime is because he's not in America with you. He's on the other side of the country from you when all he's like to do is trap you in a never ending series of hugs and kisses. And to top the day off, he's barely had a chance to speak to you today with the time difference and the fact that you've been preparing and rehearsing yourself all day.

The only saving grace about today for Matty had been the meal that he had with his family and friends. The band, his Mum, Lincoln, and Jack and his fiance all had a big meal together in a lovely restaurant. But the actual saving grace of that meal was the fact it was the last time he spoke to you before he was whisked away back to Rockefeller Plaza for SNL.

You'd been telling him about your day which you'd mentioned had been really long, going over and over what was going ahead the following day. And then you told him that you were due a full dress rehearsal that evening which you were nervous for.

Matty reassured you endlessly, and he loved hearing your voice on the other end of the phone. It picked his mood up so much that when you eventually had to say goodbye because you were called upon, it left him longing for more. The last thing he wanted was to be overbearing, but maybe it was the mere fact that Matty knew he couldn't get ahold of you because your phone was in a green room in LA and not on your person just made you feel that much further from reach. His mood was back to being pouty and distant, the only thing he wanted to do was sit in the corner of his own green room in NYC and stare at pictures of you he had on his phone.

Whether that be the funny ones you'd snapped of yourself on his phone pulling a funny face when he wasn't watching just to fill his camera roll with nonsense, or the selfies he'd taken of you together in bed on lazy mornings. His favourites were the ones that just had you in it, the innocent ones that he'd take of you in his home, sitting reading away or cooking, or simply the ones of you giggling at something he said while he had his camera on you.

Matty adores every last inch of you, and he has your stunning faces memories down to the finest detail. How could he not when he's so irrevocably in love? All he wants right now is to be by your side cheering you on instead of hearing your prep day stories on the other end of the phone. Matty wishes he could actually be kissing your cheek instead of looking at his Lock Screen of him doing exactly that.

The singer releases a long sigh at the fact he can't do any of those things in the slightest and he won't be able to for quite a while. With another deflated sigh Matty locks his phone, closes his eyes and rests his head against the back of the settee. He planned on staying that way, maybe having a nap just to pass the time, until he felt a kick to the shin.

Opening his eyes, all Matty was met with is George frowning, asking, "Are you gonna get the stick out of your arse at some point today?"

"What?" He raises his eyebrows.

"You heard," The drummer tells him, "Pull the stick out your arse mate, you're in the worst mood."

Matty rolls his eyes at the drummer and mutters, "Sorry, I just want this to be over with now."

"It's alright, we get it, but come on. Can't have you looking like this when we've got America to impress."

He knows George is trying to make him laugh, but it fails. Matty shows no enthusiasm as he lets out a big exhale and his words come out defeated, "Yeah I know, I just wanna get it done."

"With a smile, I beg." Jamie pleads, putting his hands together to emphasise how much he would love for Matty to adorn that stage persona in another hour.

"Yeah, yeah."

Bless Adam, he hears and sees the lack of joy from Matty and he is quick to sit right next to him to offer, "You wanna talk about what's up?"

Matty sighs, allowing himself a deep breath to not let his mate be on the receiving end of his foul mood, "No Hann, I'm good. I don't even really know what's up, I just don't wanna be here anymore." It was just one of those days when everything felt wrong. He just couldn't be arsed anymore, especially with it being such an unnecessarily long gig, just so the only Americans who watched the dumb programme could go on twitter and ask 'who are these 1975 guys?'

However, Matty doesn't realise that everyone just knows he's in a bad mood because he's acting like a love sick puppy. "We've been here for days watching and waiting, and it's fucking boring at this point when we've performed these two songs almost a hundred times now."

Adam sighs, his hand coming to pat Matty's back in a show of reassurance, "I know mate, but after tonight we can go back home and be done with it."

Be done with it? God Matty can't wait for that moment. But going back home? While you're over in LA? Matty doesn't think he can do it at all. Not for another day. He can't begin to bear it. So after doing a bit of googling and seeing that no flight will get him there quick enough, Matty brings up a contact of a friend he's not long since left.

Jack, could I ask a massive favour please?

Matty doesn't have to wait long for a reply.

Course buddy, anything. What can I do for you?

After all arrangements are put in place not even ten minutes later, Matty locks his phone, his chest feeling lighter almost instantly and he disguards the device, "Right Jamie lets mess about, grab the guitar and I'll Google some chords, George you get the weed, Ross get the alcohol."

Ross scoffs and sarcastically asks, "Anything else sire?"

Matty groans, but a smile is still plastered on his face despite the fact that his following words sound slightly irritated, "Oh piss off."

Adam scolds Ross, pointing out, "He's smiling again, everyone do your tasks!"

In a few minutes, they're all sitting round the lounge area with Jamie playing the guitar, Matty using his phone looking for chords for different songs they all enjoy, George is rolling a couple spliffs, and Ross is pouring a few shots.

After the induction of alcohol and hearing Jamie Squire's phenomenal voice singing The Corrs, with everyone singing along to a bit of Shania Twain improv, Matty started to feel a lot better. Or that was until he got a tobacco craving and his usual security wasn't around to safely take him to where he needed. It hit Matty all over again then that he couldn't just go and have a fag in peace, he needed security, how depressing.

"Where's Mark?" He huffs like a little kid, the craving becoming an annoying itch he needs to scratch the more he looks around and can't find his security.

Ross is busy on his phone, so he barely looks up and shrugs to say, "Dunno."

An eye roll is all Matty offers the bassist, and then goes around the room and the hallways asking, "Anyone seen Mark? I wanna go for a smoke."

There is only so much the singer can go with getting the same negative response, especially since that irritation from earlier was creeping back on him and he was well aware of it. Matty ends up leaving their room just to see if the big man was standing guard outside, but unfortunately luck still isn't on his side as Mark's nowhere to be found.

With quick fingers, he messages Mark. Clear and straight to the point.

Mark, where you at man???

Wanna go for a smoke but you're not here to serve and protect?!?!?!!

Matty paces up and down the hall as he waits for an answer. He almost starts counting down the seconds it takes Mark to say something back after a few minutes, but before he can start cursing out to the wind, his phone pings in his hand.

Sorry Matty, had to go back to the hotel. Upset stomach from lunch, ain't a pretty sight.

He wants to pull the hair out of his scalp when reading that, groaning out loud at the news. There is no pun intended since his fingers move quicker than his thoughts when he replies: Shit man. 

Mark has seen Matty grow up basically, and they are so far beyond regular human boundaries by now that it is a no-brainer for Matty to dial his phone number and wait for the big man to answer, even if he's in the bathroom.

Worried, the singer asks, "You okay mate?"

Mark very quickly lets out in that neutral tone he always uses, "Not really Matty. In a lot of pain."

"You on the shitter?" Matty snorts out at the end, still finding a bit of comedy in the situation.

He hears the man sigh loudly before scolding him, "You're a little shit. You've got Tim with you, I'll see you tomorrow."

Matty cackles at Mark's loss of patience, but he doesn't let him go without saying, "Jokes aside, I hope you're alright mate." Of course, as the kid he is, he cannot hold back from adding, "I'll buy you a new pair of pants for tomorrow."

"Get gone, you little fucker," Mark hisses down the line, making Matty erupt in a string of silly giggles. Hearing Matty's laughter always gets Mark, so he chuckles lightly before wishing the lad, "Good luck."

Mark definitely regrets being a nice person when all Matty does is quip back with, "Good luck on the shitter." The last that Matty hears on the phone is a loud huff that makes him cackle again, the echo of his laughter so loud in the empty halls that he misses any sound coming from the other side of the line before Mark hangs up.

Finding Mark's situation so hilarious lifts Matty's spirits, so he goes back into their greenroom with a loopy smile. Everyone is sort of shocked to see him smiling again, but they don't question it since they need him in the best of moods for the show.

Still craving a smoke though, Matty decides that instead of being a responsible adult and going to find Tim, he gathers the lads and takes the spliffs that George has so deftly rolled from the coffee table. Instead of being hounded outside and risking the full show going to shit, they opt for smoking into the vent of the bathroom ceiling in hopes that the smoke alarm doesn't go off. Matty can't help but also think that this is excellent material for A Theoretical Performance of an Intimate Moment so he asks Jordan to start filming too which ends up with the chosen few laughing loudly at the shit the singer spews from his mouth without any prompting.

Thankfully no fire alarm was sounded during the fun pastime, but each and every one of them smoking weed in the bathroom almost pulled a Mark and shat themselves when there was a loud knock on their greenroom door. Never had a spliff been put out faster than that moment, which when Matty, George, and Jordan all head back out to the lounge area to see it's only Denise and Lincoln at the door there's a silent groan for wasting the rest of a good smoke.

All that being said, the singer can't be annoyed seeing how happy his Mum currently looks as she makes Ross get up and give her a cuddle after she lets go of Adam. Once released from the hug, Denise turns to see the faint smile on Matty's face and declares it a far better state than what Adam told her it had been before. So she grins brightly and almost shouts, "Thank goodness you lot have got him in a better mood."

"You alright Mum?" Matty asks as he walks up to her and Lincoln.

"Good, thanks chick." Denise hums, and as she hugs her son, she adds, "You look like you're having fun."

Matty giggles, his eyes closing slightly as he gives her a squeeze, "Yeah it's been funny."

George is obviously the next target for Denise's hugs, but as the gentle giant hugs her, he realises his mistake when she all but freezes in his arms. He's not closed or moved away from the toilet door. Her keen sense of smell means that George gets a slap on the chest and a frown as she scolds both him, her son, and the photographer, "Have you boys been smoking weed in here?!"

Laughter fills the room then and despite the small plea from their surrogate mother to again quit smoking both nicotine and weed, they all fall into easy habits of entertaining each other. It was just like being back at the Healy Household back in the day. Denise mothering them and asking if they'd eaten, followed by random anecdotes, and tons of laughter.

That is only interrupted when Denise's nosy self sees a familiar phone lighting up with a picture of what she hopes will be her gorgeous daughter in law. So she announces, "Matt, your phone is ringing," from the other side of the room and holds up the screen so he can see it is you that is calling.

Matty practically runs for the phone, making everyone laugh. Ross teasing loudly, "Absolutely whipped!"

"Damn right," Matty replies proudly as he gets a hold of his phone, and then leaves to the adjacent bathroom to answer. "Baby, hey!" He greets you loud and excitedly.

You can hear the smile on his voice, and it fully melts your heart. "Hiya Matty, how's your day been?"

"Can't lie baby it's not been great, but I feel a lot better now. Especially because now I get to hear your voice." He wishes he could say see your face, but you have oddly not facetimed him this time; though, he is not complaining at all.

He hears you cooing and his cheeks burn at the sound, "You're so cute, I missed you lots today."

"Never more than I miss you," He is quick to refute because hearing you through the phone is definitely making the void in his chest grow. He wants you there with him so badly and very selfishly.

"I beg to differ," You quip back. Matty hums funnily and it makes you giggle as he continues, "Let's agree to disagree because we'll be at it all night, how was your day baby?"

"Really good thanks, it was nice being all dressed up for it. The after party carpet is stunning this year, like a royal blue." And his face lights up when you add, "I felt like a bit of a princess in my dress."

He smiles when hearing that, and he's so excited to get the breath knocked out from his chest at the sight of you, "I'm sure you'll look like one. I can't wait to see you in it." But knowing you won't give him more details on your attire for tomorrow, he instead asks, "What are you up to now?"

"I'm in a taxi heading back to the hotel to watch SNL," You explain, but before he can ask why you're going back on your own, you continue, "Amelia's gone out with a few of the crew for some drinks but I wanted to get back, got scared I was gonna miss the start of it."

He isn't fond of you missing out on some fun to watch a shit comedy show that will only have them on for a total of eight minutes. So he lets you know just that, "Baby you should go out. It's American drivel, and you've heard the songs a hundred times before."

"I'm watching it Matty, I'm not missing seeing you on TV." You say seriously, but Matty can hear your smile as he listens to you all but coo, "It's not every day you get to see your boyfriend on TV." The tone you use to say that makes him chuckle lightly.

"That's cute but I know you're watching for Ross," Matty jokes and he's delighted when he hears your snort of laughter followed quickly by a giggle.

You sigh happily, "You know me so well." And in your head, you can clearly see him shrugging with a smug look on his face when he replies, "I try."

"Yeah, I know you do." You grin, your tongue swiping over your top lip as if to try and hide just how much this man makes you smile and feel all gooey inside. 

Just as you're realising you have absolutely no need to keep your smile to yourself, your call is unfortunately interrupted by another knock on the greenroom door. Matty opens the bathroom door and stands in the doorway to keep in check with what's happening. You hear the commotion on Matty's end of the phone, somebody scrambling to let someone in, and once they do, you don't quite hear what's said now the room has gone quiet but from the mere reaction once the chatter starts again, it's easy to tell they were just called to set.

Matty sighs looking at his watch seeing that it's now 11:46pm and he's just beyond gutted he won't get a chance to speak to you for longer. He's disappointed to say the least and you can tell in his tone when he says, "They're calling us to go baby, I'm sorry." Matty takes a seat on the leather sofa quickly, using his shoulder to hold the phone to his ear so he can multi-task and put his shoes on as you finish up your conversation. 

"Why are you sorry?" You laugh a little, "You should be excited. In fact, you best be excited because I don't want to see you half-hearting it on TV, Matty."

"You really are my toughest critic." Matty says as the room starts buzzing around him with everyone getting their stuff together. But even as he has his shoes on ready to go, he makes no effort to move.

The singer stays seated, nodding and holding his finger up to people trying to make him get a move on, but he's not shortening the already limited time he has talking to you for the sake of an extra minute of a producer telling him what to do. And he's glad he didn't just end the call because he gets to hear your giggle through the phone and he can picture you nodding in your taxi as you say, "Well of course, I can't have you ruining my reputation... I need America to be swooning at my boyfriend's stunning voice."

"Don't forget my life changing good looks." Matty can't help but sarcastically add.

"Oh, I could never." Your boyfriend can tell that you're grinning as you say that, but you do get a touch serious when you continue, "Have the best time okay, and I'll be watching every minute, so I want you to know that I'm there with you every second of the way."

"Thank you, needed that... and to hear your voice again before doing this." Matty's sure his heart just grew in size at your words. He's positively obsessed with you, and he can't wait for the night to be over so he can be another day closer to having you back by his side.

"Miss you so much baby." Your boyfriend tells you and he once again gets the urge to just let those three words slip from his lips.

Needless to say, you're in the exact same predicament, wanting so much to express your love for him but stopping yourself is almost painful. "I miss you too baby..." Is what you settle for, but Matty can hear exactly what you mean when you softly whisper, "Obsessed with you." like it pains you to not say what you actually wish to.

A smile lights up your boyfriend's face hearing those words though, and he gently repeats them back to you, "Obsessed with you too."

You hear your boyfriend's name get called then, and a quick, "I'm coming." falling from his lips, so you know it's really time for him to go. So you manage to quickly add, "Dance for me baby."

"Promise," Matty grins, "I'll call you after the show."

"Can't wait." You smile, and just as you're both about to bid each other farewell, another question falls from your lips, almost in a panic, "Wait, you didn't slick your hair back, did you?"

Your boyfriend lets out a loud laugh at that, knowing by now just how important his hair is to you. But instead of answering you, he leaves you with, "Guess you'll just have to wait and see."

Almost offended he won't tell you, you're about to scold him, "Matty." but he doesn't leave you the chance to. "Bye baby." Matty giggles, and he only puts the phone down once he hears you laugh again and say your own, "Byeeee."

When everyone makes it to set, the producer gives everyone another overview of how the night will go and the schedule that needs to be stuck to. The band can't help but be thankful that they aren't doing the sketches too because it means a much simpler night for them, with only two songs to play, one at 20 mins into the show and the other at 40 minutes.

The show begins without a hitch, Jenna Ortega completing her monologue without any hiccups and it lands well with the audience so Matty thinks that the writers should be proud of themselves for doing their job correctly. The sketches also seem to go okay and before he even knows it, Matty is being ushered onto the stage to take their places and get their instruments all ready.

He can feel the audience watching wait for the adverts to finish so they can begin and he gears himself up as he would before every show. A few playful words with the other boys, a few bounces on the spot and Matty's ready and in the right zone to entertain. He has to deliver for you, put on a show for you that will make you want to call him as soon as he can get back to his phone.

Thinking about your reaction makes him feel goofy and playful, like he wants to dance enough that he'll have you giggling for an hour about it on FaceTime. Matty can't help but smile at the mere thought of seeing and hearing you so happy, so to please only you that little bit more he twists a few strands of his hair around his finger so his curls really are on show for you, and he hopes you'll be happy with the result.

Before he can do anything else, the runners all start scrambling back behind the camera, the producers ensuring Jenna is in the correct spot to introduce them and the lights are lowered as he and the band take their position. There's the ten second countdown back from the adverts and then after hearing the actress say, "Ladies and gentlemen, The 1975." the song begins.

The familiar guitar riff fills the room, and the singer falls into his performance easily. The joy the music fills him with shows on his face and he can feel that the energy lifts in the room, and he feels lighter when he sees the smiles on people's faces as he looks around the small audience in front of him.

He can see fans in their merch, ones he recognises and new faces he doesn't but most of all he's just feeling the music and trying to be as flamboyant and as playful as possible as you are still in the forefront of his mind. He's playful as he sings, changing his voice to make this performance that little bit different from the other times he's sang I'm In Love With You on the tours, and he's doing it because you're all he has in mind. How can Matty not be happy and dance around whilst he sings a song about being in love when he knows the woman he's madly in love with is watching?

When the song reaches the first chorus Matty can't help but notice movement in the top right hand corner of the room, and he almost frowns seeing what the open door reveals. The singer looks to the top row of the seats facing them, and sees his Mum and her husband wondering in late but they are dancing as he sings the song which almost makes him chuckle. They stay where they are though and make no effort to find their seat and Matty can't think why but he tries to pay less attention to them and focus on performing.

Playful is the only way the singer could describe how he's performing, and ultimately feeling in this moment. He's putting on his show for you, as promised and he hopes you're loving every second as he's well aware how much him performing affects you and makes you happy. And there's nothing more that Matty ever wants to do than be the cause of your happiness.

Just thinking about your reaction when he comes to LA to surprise you in the morning, he absolutely cannot wait for. He's dying to feel you in his arms again, to feel your kisses on his skin, the thought absolutely electrifies him. This hour of his life can't go quick enough, and as soon as he's performed Oh Caroline later he's running back to the green room to grab his shit and then he'll be on the plane before he knows it. And considering the singer hates flying, he's never been so excited to fly across a country in his life.

The top right corner of the room catches the singer's eye again just as the door opens again revealing Mark stepping into the room. Matty has to hold back a frown seeing his security guard walk into the room considering he was meant to be on the toilet back at the hotel. Still confused, he lets his eyes linger on his Mum now saying a quick hello to Mark, but it's when the singer notices that his security is holding the door open for someone. And when that someone walks in, Matty almost stops breathing.

You are the person that walks out through the door, you're there in your jeans and your Drive Like I Do hoodie, tote bag filled to the brim on your shoulder and you all but throw it to the floor, your bright eyes never leaving the band you start singing along to the second chorus. Matty can't help the giggle that falls from his lips as he sings, and he has to bat away the tears that threaten to spring to his eyes.

His heart is thundering seeing that it's really you there in front of him, singing the words to his own song back to him. You're here, in New York, when you should be thousands of miles away. You're here, dancing with his Mum, supporting him, smiling and blowing kisses at him.

Matty's heart can't take much more, so he just leaves it all in his performance, and knowing the bridge (your favourite bit of the song) is about to come up, Matty decides to push himself. The one thing the producers told him was no swearing in the song, which considering the show airs after 12am seems really fucking pathetic but thankfully Matty remembers and flicks his face away from the microphone as the words he usually sing start to come out.

His eyes focus on you, giggling at the way his curls land on his face, but Matty can't stop himself from doing what he's about to. As he sings, "It's like one, two, yeah. I'm in love with you." on the you Matty changes to falsetto and at the same time he points up to the love of his life who is dancing along and singing the lyrics right back at him.

The singer sees you grinning and you hug yourself for a second, your hand going over your heart before you lift that hand to your lips and blow a kiss down to him. It's needless to say the tingles Matty can feel throughout his body at that moment is nothing to do with the adrenaline rush of singing live. It's all you, and all of the emotions you evoke in his body waking back up now you're in front of him again making him feel like he's floating on air.

The rest of the song goes by in a blur, him falling in step with Adam and Ross as they simultaneously sway side to side to the beat of the song. At one point he turns around to George to keep in time with the music but Matty only does that so the cameras can't see just how stupidly big his smile has got. Making eye contact with his best friend doesn't even ground him again though because George has a smile on his face too, along with a knowing grin.

When Matty raises his eyebrows slightly, the drummer easily picks up on the silent question of, You knew she was coming? And from the the casual little shrug and smile from the drummer, the singer knows his best friend well enough to hear the smug, Of course I fucking did. Deciding that he would deal with his best mate's little betrayal later, Matty just shakes his head faking disapproval and turns himself back around towards the cameras and audience, but his gaze can't help but find its way up to you once more as the outro wraps up.

The singer tries to hold himself together, and not seem jittery or eager to leave the stage as he takes in the audience's applause and he manages to tear his eyes from you to smile and graciously accept the cheers for his band. The 5 seconds in which he takes a short bow seems to drag on for half a lifetime when all he wants to do is rid himself of his guitar and wrap his arms around you, but the calm and collected facade changes as soon as he hears, "And we're off air."

Turning quickly to put his guitar down, Matty gives a quick thumbs up to Polly and Jamie before nodding to the rest of the band. But before they can even smile back at him, Matty turns and gives the audience another wave before he jogs off stage towards the double fire exit door knowing he'd find his way to you. And the singer is certain that this is the only time that he's ever been thankful that Americans have adverts every five minutes because he's never moved faster in his life.

And suddenly he's so grateful he's been stuck in this studio for a week, because he knows these corridors like the back of his hand at this point. Yes, he's aware he must look like a mad man, running through the halls in a suit like he's a btec James Bond, but nothing and no one will keep him from finding you in the next minute.

Your boyfriend is so glad that you seem to be on the same wavelength as him because when Matty turns his next corner, he sees you exit from the door he saw you enter when he was on stage. He genuinely thinks his heart skips a beat when your eyes meet, never ever have you looked so angelic than right now.

Despite just being in mundane clothes, you look like you're absolutely glowing. The smile on your gorgeous face is huge and the way you start sprinting towards him is enough confirmation that you're just as down bad for him as he is of you. And the way you clash together like bullets finally hitting their intended targets takes the breath from you both, but the momentum and adrenaline has Matty having to pick you up to spin you so you can both slow down.

There's a small giggle that slips from your lips as your arms tighten around Matty's neck which almost has the man's knees giving out, he's missed the sound of that laugh in his ear so very much. His hold around your waist only tightens as he slows his spinning as you press excited kisses to his neck as you continue to hug him until your feet hit the floor again.

It's almost like Matty's in a daze when he releases you just enough so you can each pull back and see each other's faces properly. He can see the shine in your eyes much like you can see the same in his when he cups both sides of your face and asks in utter shock and disbelief, "What are you doing here?!"

The smile that brightens your stunning face even more has Matty's heart almost bursting from his chest. Your hand comes to rest over one of his that covers your cheek as you say, "I told you, I couldn't miss this."

"Baby." Matty sighs in joy, and he doesn't have it in him to stop himself from quickly pressing his lips to yours. The peck is only short because he can't stop himself from saying, "I can't believe you're here."

You giggle again at that, your own heart beating out of your chest entirely at the fact you're back in the arms of the man you love. Deciding you need to steal another peck from those pretty lips of his, you quickly do so before you explain, "I was meant to be here so much earlier but the flight got delayed."

You trap Matty into another crushing hug when you as you elaborate, "Was supposed to be at the meal earlier, but clearly it wasn't meant to be."

As gutting as that news is, Matty can't bring himself to care that the initial plans for the day didn't go as planned. He believes that showing up how you just did made the surprise so much better because he had absolutely no inkling that you'd planned this. Not when you have the biggest gig of your life in less than 24 hours... Wait. 

"But what about the dress rehearsal?" Matty starts to panic, pulling back from the hug so he can look at your face as he realises what you're putting at risk by being here in front of him, "Baby, what about the Oscars?"

"Dress rehearsal was this morning," You put his mind at ease and explain, "It's all done and there was nothing to do for the rest of the day or tomorrow until we have to watch the awards in the evening." You chuckle as you tell him, "I've been trying to get on a flight all afternoon."

"I can't believe you've flown to New York for this shit show when it's the biggest day of your life tomorrow." Matty can't help but run a hand through his hair, his other one still on your waist as he can't let you go at all. "God baby, you're so perfect but so silly at the same time."

Shrugging as you laugh and nod, accepting the truth as it slips from his lips but you have no regrets. Being back in his arms is a dream come true. "I just couldn't miss this." You tell him as you bury your head into his neck again, hugging him tightly. You're sure at this point you could get some sort of high just from inhaling his aftershave, it might be your favourite scent ever. Squeezing him tightly you admit, "And I missed you so much."

"I missed you more," Matty promises as he kisses the side of your head as he hugs you back.

If there was any doubt in either of your minds that you were each other's soulmates, this would have confirmed it. This moment of just utter euphoria from being back in each other's arms, but an overwhelming sense of peace washes through you also. You imagine this is the closest you'll get to heaven on earth, and you're so lucky you've found it.

Pulling back from the hug, you look into those gorgeous brown eyes as you say, "Impossi-" but your words are taken from you when your boyfriend's lips find your own again. This time it's not rushed, if anything, it's entirely savoured. Matty gently rests his index finger under your chin and tilts your head up slightly so he has you exactly where he wants you and you're happy to give in completely.

He kisses you like he can't get enough, his hold so tight like you might disappear and you're certain you fall even further in love with him in this moment. Matty's hums against your lips as you let your hand slide up into the back of his curly hair. You can't help but grab ahold of his tie with your other hand to keep him from going anywhere. Something that makes Matty smile into the kiss and subsequently you do as well but you don't let him get away. Your lips find each other over and over, both releasing little pleased hums here and there just to further show how much you love the sensation.

You've missed this. You've missed how at home you feel in his arms, and how his kisses make you feel like the world has ignited around you. The way your heart yearns to be close to his says it all, you couldn't be apart for a week without needing to experience him again.

Your kiss turns into a few longer ones, which eventually shifts to the both of you giggling as you steal pecks from one another. Eventually your forehead rests against his and your gorgeous boyfriend gives you a soft Eskimo kiss which makes your heart stutter. A gentle giggle leaves your lips, you don't even hesitate with what you're about to declare, "I-"

"Matty!" A yell from down the corridor briefly interrupts the moment, and you don't have to look to know it's George.

This may be the first and only time you marginally dislike George Daniel for stealing the moment you were about to tell Matty that you love him. Equally though, when it happens you want it to be grander than in a random back corridor in a studio. But emotions are getting the better of you, and you feel it so so deeply now, you don't want to keep it to yourself for much longer.

Your boyfriend turns towards his best mate and hugs you into his chest as the both of you look down the corridor. The gentle giant waves at you with a smile on his lips but doesn't come any closer, instead he just tells Matty, "They need us to go over something really quickly in the green room."

"Give me two minutes G." Your boyfriend says as he holds you that bit tighter.

George nods, and then his eyes move to you and his smile gets that bit bigger as he says, "Good to see you Y/N/N."

"And you George." You grin, the smile you share is a knowing one, because he was the one you told first that you were making the trip over. 

The drummer turns on his heel, briefly nodding to Matty in confirmation of those two minutes he gave him. And your boyfriend certainly makes the most of those two minutes. Arms wrap tighter around your waist and before you even realise you're hoisted into the air and span around which makes a loud giggle fall from your lips, and the joy that's on Matty's face has you spellbound. Stealing a few more kisses from the curly haired brunette, you don't want to let him go just yet so you make the most of every second.

When your feet return to the ground, you tell Matty that you're going to make the most of being at SNL and head into the studio again to finish watching the sketches with Denise and Lincoln. Matty nods, silently understanding that you don't want to feel in the way by going back to the green room with him when there's going to be a meeting of sorts, and that you may as well make the most of being here by seeing the show.

But your boyfriend has to ask, "How long has my Mum known?"

"Bless your Mum has been sorting everything out for me," You chuckle, "I told George but when he said that your Mum was coming I started liaising with her so you didn't get suspicious of George."

Matty pulls a face which screams betrayal as he asks you, "Who else has been hiding things from me? George, me Mum...You're all sneaky."

"Mark wasn't on the shitter," You laugh before divulging, "He was getting me from the airport." Overhearing that conversation in the car made you giggle, it was an effort not to tell him earlier when you were on the phone faking you were on the way back to your hotel in a taxi. You're just glad the roads here are as busy as the ones in LA so the background noise didn't give you away.

Matty scoffs at the news and shakes his head, "I'm surrounded by snakes." You just hum and nod before you lean in to kiss him once more. And you're certain your two minutes have long since passed when you eventually bid each other a brief goodbye and you head back into the studio as silently as you can.

The show seemed to pass by in a flash, the cringe of the sketches weren't as bad as when you were in the room watching them compared to when watching on TV so you found yourself having fun. But even more so when you got to dance with Denise again when the band came back out and performed Oh Caroline.

The gorgeous song was over before you knew it and you knew that there were only a few more sketches before the end of the show, so you were making the most of them until someone familiar took the free seat beside you. Before you can even congratulate him on a good show he's already cupped your face and leant in to kiss you cheek which just makes it so your smile is a permanent fixture upon your face. Matty scoots his chair as close to yours as humanly possible and he crosses his legs as he takes your hand and intertwines your fingers.

The sketches aren't as captivating as the way Matty's thumb strokes the back of your hand, you just end up watching him. You've missed the tiny things about him, like how he bounces his foot slightly as he watches the show, his small tell that he's not quite as comfortable as he makes out to be. You've missed the way he twists that front curl around his finger again absentmindedly as the world passes him by. You've missed everything about the gorgeous man beside you, but mostly, the overwhelming feeling of home he brings you. You lean your head down on his shoulder and smile brightly as you take a deep breath. There's no place you'd rather be than by this man's side, and you squeeze his hand a little to try and somehow silently convey that.

Feeling a gentle kiss being placed on top of your head adds to it even more, and when he leans his head down against yours you hear Matty whisper, just loud enough for you to hear over the sketch, "I'm so glad you're here."

Your heart flutters at that but even more so when he picks up your adjoined hands and kisses the back of yours. God, you love him so much. You both happy lose yourselves in each other's presence as you watch possibly the only decent sketch on this programme. The Weekend Update has both you and Matty in stitches laughing and you find that the laughter lingers even when they go into an advert break for the millionth time this evening.

A yawn is the reason your laughter stops which Matty pouts at and gently smiles, "You tired Baby?"

Nodding in confirmation, you also decide to tell him, "I'm gonna have to get the earliest flight in the morning. I need to be back in LA at the earliest opportunity, just to ease my mind." Because God only knows how you've thought about every way in which you might not get back to LA on time. But you're looking on the positive side, you're going to be fine and you'll get back with plenty of time to spare.

"I got you covered Baby," Matty grins, and he gives your hand another squeeze, "I was flying out right after this anyway."

Mark quickly taps your boyfriend on your shoulder to tell him he's needed back on set for the closing part of the show and you receive the loveliest kiss on the cheek before your boyfriend heads backstage. Five minutes later you're happily whooping and cheering for your favourite band as everyone is on set closing up the show.

And as soon as wrap is called, Denise and Lincoln show you the way back towards the lads greenroom and you're greeted with big smiles by everyone. Polly hugs you first, followed by Adam, Jamie, and George. But as Matty attempts to give you another hug, Ross swoops in and hugs you, taking you off your feet as he spins you around a little. He as you laughing in his arms as you hug him back, but the sheer surprise of it has you dizzy once your feet return to the ground.

Giggling, you tell him, "Missed you guys." And you look around them with nothing but love in your heart. They truly feel like a second family even after such a short amount of time. You can't believe that you first met these people just a handful of months ago, and now they aren't just your favourite musicians, they are actually your friends. And one is your boyfriend... You truly can't believe your luck.

"Never more than we miss you." Ross hugs you into his chest and you giggle at that.

Even more so when you see Matty is now perching on the arm of the settee and he's watching you and the bassist like a hawk, knowing his mate is trying to keep you all to himself to get under his skin. You feed into it though by squeezing Ross' waist tighter as you counter, "You'd be surprised, I've had years of longing for you all don't forget."

"Don't we know it." Matty chuckles and the lads and Denise laugh.

But Ross briefly lets you go so he can look down at you and he holds your shoulders as he grins, "And we all know I was your favourite."

Your smile matches his as you all but giggle, "Only because Matty was with Flo at the time." The room erupts in laughter then and the bassist quickly leans down and kisses your cheek before you go and take the seat beside where Matty is perching. Your boyfriend's own smile lingers for a while before he slides himself down into your lap and cuddles himself against you.

Both of you being entirely soppy, resting your head against each other, your arm moving over his waist as he presses his kisses to your temple, then cheek, then your lips. And you savour them all, stealing another kiss from those pillowy lips of his until you pull away feeling a little self conscious as there are way too many eyes in this room.

It's all a bit chaotic by the time everyone packs their stuff up. And by the time you're all ready to leave the room it's close to 2:30am. Denise and Lincoln wished you well before heading back to their hotel about 45 minutes ago and you're now ready to do the same, feeling completely exhausted after a long day. Matty smiles at you when you release a tired yawn, and he throws his arm around your shoulder to pull you into his body as he begins to drag his suitcase along with you towards the green room door. Everyone is loitering with their cases though so the both of you pause, waiting for the others to get their shit together.

It seems that everyone around you is so manic, that your quiet conversation goes relatively unheard. Matty turns towards you and smiles, "Let's go to the airport."

"What?" Your eyes go a little wide, "Like right now?"

"Right now." Matty nods with a grin. You shake your head a little, mostly confused because, "There aren't any planes to LA at this time, Matty."

"There are," He chuckles, "If you have a private one, and thankfully I have a friend who's not using his right now."

Your jaw falls open, and Matty can't help but glance at those pretty lips of yours. It takes everything in him not to kiss them. "Matty, we can't." You shake your head. No way can you impose like that. Taking a private jet just to benefit yourself, it's something from a story, not something you can actually do.

"We can and we are doing," Your boyfriend nods and smiles. And you know by the way he's looking at you that he's not taking no for an answer. You smile sweetly at him. Afterwards, you notice his eyes dart around the room, "Come on, where's your case?"

"Didn't bring a case." You shake your head, just patting the tote that's on your shoulder. "Didn't think there'd be much point when we haven't seen each other in over a week."

A cheeky knowing smirk tugs at your lips as you whisper, "Pyjamas wouldn't be needed, would they?" Matty's eyes darken a little at that, looking at you like he could devour you at any given second now. But he just lets his arm slip around your waist, "Oh, I'm going to be such a bad friend."

"What?" You frown, asking curiously, "Why?" Before Matty can respond, the room gets loud again as everyone starts moving into the hallway. Shouts about an afterparty in a different hotel are mentioned, everyone shouting who's coming and who's driving with who takes your attention as you turn to face the door again.

But Matty wraps his arms around your waist from behind you, pulling you back into his chest. Your heart thuds at the feeling but what makes it skip a beat is when you feel his smirk against your ear as he whispers, "I'm going to shag you on the plane."

~*~*~*~ Oscars Day ~*~*~*~

You had gone to a big hotel suite to get ready for the Oscars Vanity Fair After Party with Amelia, watching the red carpet as you got your makeup and hair done. It felt so odd to be pampered while feeling so incredibly nervous inside, because the drag of the straightener along your hair kept making your eyelids flutter shut, but your stomach kept doing somersaults and making you nauseous.

It kept making you nostalgic to look to your side and see Amelia getting ready next to you, sipping a Diet Coke as you both watched the red carpet like you have been doing together for years. This time though you're both being glammed up as you do so, about to meet those in attendance, this time just on the other carpet, maybe next year you'll be lucky enough to do the preshow one.

Thankfully you did sleep on the plane back to LA, so your make up artist didn't tell you off for bags under your eyes. And considering you spent the night and day beside Matty, you felt so well rested and happy that up until getting here you weren't too nervous. But now the clock is counting down and the anxiousness has crept back in.

It takes the two hours of the red carpet and a little into the ceremony for you and Amelia to be fully ready and prepared for the night. Once you're ready to be taken over to the Vanity Fair carpet, you have just under half an hour going around the massive hotel suite to take loads of pictures while you listen to the important stuff happening in the background in case any new questions could be asked to your guests on the carpet.

When you step out of the suite, the door closing behind you kick-starts a new round of nerves, making you grab your best friend's hand tightly. Amelia looks at you and you screech in unison as you head to the lifts. You have no idea how you're gonna keep from shaking like a wet dog on the actual carpet, but you hope that you manage to settle in time.

When the lift doors open at the lobby, you realise you had completely forgotten about a certain someone waiting for you there. Matty's eyes are gleaming when they catch you walking his way. He can't help but think that you look so fucking unreal, and his hand comes over his chest as if clutching it would stop it from beating erratically.

Your boyfriend briefly allows himself to look at Amelia, seeing that she's looking lovely in a sleek black dress with a curved neckline trailing up her shoulder to cover one of her arms. But regardless of your best friend's beauty, Matty is absolutely spellbound by yours.

You're walking towards him in a sparkly rouge v-neck dress which accentuates all of your stunning features. The neckline shows off your boobs in the most drool worthy way, it takes effort for Matty's eyes not to linger for too long. Not to mention the way you just look like a Disney princess, looking as gorgeous as ever, it's almost otherworldly. Even your skin has a sparkle to it.

"Oh my..." You hear him mutter as you finally reach him, but his arm snakes around your waist and pulls you in to kiss you. "Lipstick!" You manage to mumble against his lips, and when he pulls back, you laugh as you wipe the remnants of mauve off his lips.

Matty doesn't let go of you, nor stop giving you compliments the whole way to the venue. He's clutching you so tightly, you're blushing the entire time. Amelia keeps giggling and pointing out how down bad he is for you, to which he always proudly replies, "Fuck yes, I am."

When you get to the venue it's not long before showtime, so you leave the little backstage dressing room Vanity Fair gave you fairly quickly, but it feels almost painful to leave Matty behind. Before leaving though, you give your boyfriend a kiss (which you had been refusing all the way there for the sake of your lipstick), and he promises he will be all dressed up and ready for you by the time you're back.

You're a little jealous he can stay in his comfies for a bit longer than you, but the show must go on. So with lots of words of encouragement, Matty bids both you and your best friend good luck and goodbye before you head over to the corner of the iconic carpet Vanity Fair has set up for you.

You're so nervous seeing all the new faces walk past and up to you, but it's also just so much fun seeing familiar faces like Pedro Pascal and Sabrina Carpenter. There is a bit of pressure on you and your best friend since these interviews are happening on a TikTok live, but having her doing it with you makes it so much easier. You are just bouncing off each other, asking random and funny questions to throw your guests off and get good comedic moments.

Your faces light up when you and Amelia stop your chat once you see Paul Mescal from afar bowing to the two of you. You wave him over eagerly and he excuses his way over to you, grabbing the mic off a staff member helping your production, and stopping right in front of you.

Amelia chuckles, immediately pointing out Paul's actions, "I saw you bowing to us."

"From up there," Paul snorts at himself. You put on your best smirk and act smug as you reply, "Yeah, and we thought: thank you."

"You're welcome." Says the gorgeous man. He certainly looks the part of the heartthrob tonight. The black trousers with the white blazer and red flower pinned to his lapel. Since the ceremony has finished though he's swapped the shirt and bow tie for a white vest, making for a more casual look, but still very dashing.

Amelia bows to him as she says, "My king." You laugh to yourself and follow Amelia's bow, and just about you're standing back straight, Paul reciprocates with another bow, "My queens." You truly don't know how the both of you fight that flustered blush from your faces. Yeah, you may be taken, but you're only human.

"So what mood are you in? Are you in a party mood?" Amelia asks Paul, going straight back into interviewer mode. Paul thinks about his answer for a second, "I'm in a... Yeah, I think I'm in a party mood."

Amelia quirks, "Yeah?" And you follow with a silly question that you thought would be interesting for tonight, "Have you ever danced on a table?" Paul shakes his head but firmly states, "I'm gonna do that tonight." You and your best friend approve in unison, "Yeah!"

"I'm gonna dance on a table tonight."

Amelia is satisfied with Paul's decision so she continues onto another question, "Have you ever been-" But Paul cuts her inquiry short to put forward one of his own, "Are there any tables in there?"

You shrug and honestly say, "Dunno, we've never been." Your bluntness makes you all snort at the same time, enjoying your novelty in these types of events all together.

Amelia waves it off, like she's got the situation under control and swiftly says, "We'll get a table for you." Mimicking talking to someone on some earbud intercom, you say, "Excuse me, can we please get a table for Paul Mescal to dance on?"

Paul finds himself amused at you two, playing onto your joke with a cheeky grin, "Quick. Pronto." You click your tongue, "We've got you covered, Paul."

"You're here with your whole family right?" Amelia inquires after you saw his little sister Nell going in earlier. Paul nods, turning to look ahead at the carpet, "Yeah, I sent them in. They're in at the party and I'm waiting for-"

Amelia cuts in, playing into his presence with you rather than with his family, "And you had to come chat to us, obviously." He plays into it naturally, and it makes you smile, "I was like, I've got to do something really important. I've gotta chat to Amelia and Y/N."

You hum as you nod, "Yeah, it's really, really important." Amelia genuinely replies with, "We actually love chatting to you every time." And you love seeing Paul brighten up and reciprocate, "I love chatting to yous!"

"It's great," You grin.

Amelia, with her sudden changes of conversation as per usual, asks, "Do you identify as a heartthrob?"

"Do I?" Paul chuckles at the complete turn of direction in the chat, "Ermmmm... No, I don't identify as a heartthrob." You gasp, "You don't?" Amelia states quickly, "Well, we think you are."

"That's very nice of you to say," Paul replies rather shyly. And just for his sake, knowing that it will send him back into his shell if you two keep poking on his heartthrob states, Amelia goes, "Anyway, you've gotta go."

You have to bite your tongue not to burst out laughing. Even more so when Paul laughs but nods in agreement, "I've gotta go." You add to the joke, "You've reeeally gotta go."

"You're cool," Paul says wholeheartedly. You and your best friend quickly say the same back to him, because you truly believe it and he's one of your favourites, "You're cool."

Paul bids you farewell, "See ya!"

"Bye!" You wave with a big smile. Amelia quips before the Irish lad can leave, "I'll see you on the dancefloor."

"See you on the dancefloor," Paul says, and goes back to your early joke by adding, "On a table." You laugh, nodding in confirmation, "On a table, yup."

It's hard to wipe the smile that breaks on your face after that chat. Paul is one of the people you adore and you're so grateful to have met through your work, you love the friendship he has with you and Amelia, and it is a plus that he is such great friends with your boyfriend.

The thought of Matty makes you smile harder, becoming internally giddy at the prospect of finishing this interview section and finally getting to enjoy such a monumental night with the man that keeps your heart beating out of your chest.

Matty has been watching the interview on TikTok with a grin on his face and pride swelling his chest in the little backstage room you had been getting ready in earlier. Your boyfriend had been enjoying every bit of the interviews and laughing to himself like a fool, swooning over how beautiful you look, how much he loves seeing you smile and laugh, and just so incredibly ecstatic that you have gotten to this place in your career. He believes you deserve the entire universe, and he is so glad that you and Amelia are both getting the recognition you have always deserved.

Your boyfriend can see how happy you are at the moment, but it is perhaps just how bright your smile is that gives the next person to walk up to you the courage to be so upfront, and it makes Matty grow irate in a matter of seconds.

"Oh camera!" You point out in a gasp when an actor in a dark grey suit walks up to you, taking a disposable film camera from his pocket and turning it on. Both of you recognise the actor immediately. He's not an A-lister by any means but you've seen him in a few films so you're excited to meet someone new to bounce off. But almost immediately you know exactly what sort of man this one will turn out to be.

You hear his low hum against the mic before he says, "Yeah, pose for me."

Amelia and you pose for the camera, giving your best smiles and the flash blinds you slightly so you faintly see the lad pocketing it before properly grabbing the mic again. A smirk grows on the lad's face as he points out, "Taking pictures of the best moments tonight."

You want to giggle, and can't miss the chance to tease, "Oh, so we're a highlight then?" 

If he'd have just agreed with you and looked at your both genuinely as he said it, you may have found this interview very different. But instead, you absolutely don't miss the way that his eyes linger way too long on your breasts before his eyes finally reach yours. Accompanied by a wink which is aimed directly at you, he replies, "You definitely are, love."

From your dressing room, that look and comment earns Matty's first scoff of the night, and though he shouldn't, he hates the fact that you look a little flustered as you reply with a shy, "Oh, okay."

But what the camera isn't showing is that you're not flustered because this man is flirting with you. You're flustered because you feel uncomfortable being objectified so openly like that, and on camera too. Not to mention, you can keep spotting telltale signs that the actor in front of you is extremely drunk.

Before Amelia can come up with a way to save you, the lad (very stupidly if you were to ask Matty) questions, "What are yous doing?"

One of your brow quirks at the nature of the question, before you can properly think about it, you just repeat his question almost mockingly, "What are we doing?" Amelia almost instantly goes, "Interviewing you."

The actor nods, "Right." swaying slightly on his feet. You almost want to huff because he is giving you nothing, so you go ahead and fire him a bunch of questions hoping to wrap this interview soon, "So what are you doing in there? Where are you going? Dancefloor, crying in the bathroom...?"

But you're not counting on him continuing with his heavy flirting. He takes a step towards you, grabbing your hand and squeezing it as he leans in a little to smoulder at you, "I'm going wherever you're going."

Whiskey. Whiskey is what this man in front of you has been drinking, and you know because it's all you can smell on his breath. It takes an extraordinary amount of effort not to gag in front of him or live on the show. You try to turn him down without being so obvious, while also trying to keep up with your usual awkwardly flirty persona. You squeeze his hand before gently slipping it free so you can ask, wide eyed, "Oh, so you're dancing?"

The man's eyes wonder to your chest again and you feel a little ill as you can't help the sensation of being vulnerable. Almost like you can't stop this from happening without seeming like an absolute cow in front of millions online. The last thing you want to cause is a scene, especially at an event like this. "If you save me a few dances, I will definitely join you," The smirk that tugs further on the corners of his lips makes you squirm in your place.

You should be glad to have not been a witness to Matty's second scoff of the night which was followed by an eye roll, and a hissed, "Silly prick."

You dismiss the actor gently and subtly again, "We'll see how the dancefloor looks when we go in." But he doesn't relent in the slightest, "Oh I bet you look good on the dancefloor."

It makes you chuckle sarcastically, and you're so glad you can roll your eyes at his antics this time, "Nice pun, Turner."

Elbowing you softly, Amelia reminds you to try to be merry and flirt, so to your boyfriend's and your own dismay, you smirk as you flick your hair and quip back, "I do actually look good on the dancefloor." You swear the actor's voice drops an octave when he says, "Can't wait to see that up close." and you don't miss the way his eyes fall to your body again and lingers before meeting your eyes again. 

Hating that you're on a livestream and can't give Amelia a 'help me' glance is killing you, so you very awkwardly turn to your best friend and fully avoid the lad getting any ideas in his head by changing your own plans, "Think we're just gonna have some burgers actually."

"No dancing?" The actor tries again, smirk just glued to his face. Matty is fuming, wanting nothing more than to reach into the screen and slap that smirk off the guys face. He really isn't enjoying the fact that he won't stop staring at you, nor flirting with you. Not only that, but he also thinks the lad is a massive dickhead for fully ignoring Amelia next to you.

You shrug, languidly making eye contact again, "Depends who asks." He puffs his chest out as he says, "I'm asking."

Matty clutches his phone in a white knuckle grip.

Amelia quips into the conversation for what feels like the first time, "Which one of us are you asking?" But the actor doesn't even spare her a word, just intensely staring at you with fuck-me eyes that threaten to give you a bad case of the shivers.

Amelia shifts uncomfortably in her place, chuckling awkwardly before stating, "This might get a bit messy," knowing that your boyfriend is watching. Your very jealous and angry boyfriend who is very much tempted on going out to the carpet and decking the pretentious prick.

That need to break the actor's nose just peaks when he replies, "Hopefully."

You're at a loss for words, your mouth opening in shock. Amelia can only mutter a choked, "That's-" which gets lost in the wind for she has no clue what to actually say.

Luckily, the lad starts laughing loudly at your reactions, breaking the sudden awkward tension created and urging you to laugh with him just to leave the interview on a good spirited note. Amelia clears her throat and implicitly tells the lad it's time for him to go, "We saw some of your mates get in already, so we won't steal you any longer."

He gets the hint, but not with joy. His smirk falters and his shoulders fall, "Ah bummer." You give him the fakest smile as you say, "We'll see you inside." But it almost crumbles when he winks again and replies, "I'm really hoping you will."

Amelia tries to lighten the mood by joking about your plans, "Burger in hand." However, the actor is damn stubborn and continues to try and plan something with you, "We could have some burgers together, yeah." You stay quiet, letting Amelia take this one just so he knows that you're not even jokingly considering it, "Ooo, a picnic!"

When he looks at Amelia instead of you, your shoulders sag slightly in relief. Matty is seeing red though, he cannot fucking stand to see the lad's face any longer and even the harmless, "Sure, why not?" that he replies with, has the singer rolling his eyes and clenching his fists.

Amelia bids him farewell, "It was nice seeing you!"

"Likewise," he nods and waves as he returns the mic.

You smile big and bright, feeling finally free of your torment, "See ya'!"

And your boyfriend also feels relief starting to flood his system when the lad seems to turn away from you, but his anger is piqued yet again when the actor doesn't miss the chance of the goodbye to walk up far too close to you, hugging you by the waist and leaving a kiss on your cheek. Matty doesn't even note the fact that he does the same to say goodbye to Amelia, he's just furiously replaying in his head the way that his arms wrapped around you too easily and he was too slow and deliberate when planting his lips on the soft skin of your face.

What bothers him even more is the way you and Amelia giggle together once the lad is gone, as if you had enjoyed that. He doesn't want to keep on watching the livestream, and he has to remind himself that this is your job, but it doesn't make it any better.

It's ironic how that interview has made him feel just the exact way you're about to feel when you see who is about to walk into your little corner by the carpet. Dressed to the teeth in black, the woman in a high necked dress and wet look pixie cut steps in front of you.

"Halsey!" Amelia greets the singer all excitedly while you stand beside her trying your absolute best to put on your biggest smile and gather as much content as you can to appear as eager as your best friend.

But it is hard for you to formulate anything in your head that will allow you to make the interview good so you allow Amelia to take over for a little, that is until the woman unfortunately brings up the topic of dating. Halsey laughs a little as she looks between you both and says, "You've dated so many of my exes."

You hum, internally cringing but keeping a smile on your face. Thankfully, Amelia takes that one and says, "That is true. Wait, how many?"

"Erm..." Halsey trails off, cringing outwardly a little but making it playful by smiling, all while you feel like you've done something wrong. And you would hardly say two is 'so many'. You've only been on a chicken shop date with Matty and Yungblud.

Amelia realises her mistake and softly snorts, "Oh wait, okay, I know." To try not to seem too awkward about it, you chip in with a little joke that seems to also be the truth, "We all have the same type, love that."

"Yeah I know," Halsey widens her eyes to try and signify the awkwardness but at this point you can't quite tell if she's playing up to the fact the dates aren't real, or the fact that you're actually going out with Matty. The man she wrote many Tumblr blogs and poems about.

Amelia tries to lighten the situation by adding, "Damn, okay."

However, it is hard to keep it lighthearted when the singer says, "I'm sorry for you." The way she said it, and how she looked at you as she did made your stomach drop, so it is hard to reply with anything right away. It's harder to keep the smile on your face when she shows her true colours by saying shit like that as well.

"Yeah." Amelia says a little awkwardly at the same time as you go the other way and half laugh as you try to maintain your smile, "Oh, I'm quite alright."

"Maybe that's where we're going wrong somewhere on our chicken shop dates, me especially, is because we have the same type." Amelia keeps things jokey and playful as you try to get back into the swing of it after the shock the comment gave you.

"Imma give you some like real advice," she starts like she's about to give you two a TedTalk, "Yeah, that is where you're going wrong. Don't follow in my footsteps." She might see the way you can't hold your face from growing stoic and the quirk of your brows as if challenging her to continue.

You have quirky remarks ready to defend yourself, your previous dates, and especially your boyfriend. But thankfully the woman in front of you isn't as brave as she initially believed she was. The singer backtracks, "I'm just kidding, everyone is wonderful," but you're sure you can hear sarcasm as she sighs, "Everyone's amazing."

Amelia takes over for you yet again and jokingly attempts to make it obvious your dates are fake, "Everyone is wonderful, but like maybe we should change our type? Would you say maybe, not musicians?"

The singer, thankfully, takes her eyes off you to look up as she thinks, "Erm, well it depends what you're pivoting to because if you're pivoting to actors... also the same."

Remaining professional, you pitch back into the conversation with an easy smile as you chuckle, "Maybe just someone who's not going to be here tonight." She nods, looking between you both and saying, "You should find an accountant."

Amelia brightens up, "An accountant. You know what, that would also be a really useful thing."

"Yeah." The singer confirms. You hum, smiling but playing up to the joke as you say, "Maybe more useful than a lot of boyfriends."

The singer agrees again, "No, for sure," but backtracks again and tells you and your best friend, "No, you don't even need a boyfriend, you just need a therapist."

You can't help but snort, "Okay, cool." It's funny because if she's being a cow on purpose, this makes her look like such a petty bitch for saying this to you. If she's genuinely doesn't realise what she's saying though, it just makes her fucking stupid.

"A therapist," Halsey says again.

"Yeah. No, I could have another therapist," Amelia comments, "I have one at the moment, but I could double up." Halsey laughs at that one before joking along with you, "One to date, one to talk to." You cock your head in consideration, brows furrowing as you give her comment a thought, "Maybe yeah, maybe one to date."

She covers her face with one hand as she laughs softly at herself, "God, I'm giving terrible advice right now." You don't know how you refrain from raising your eyebrows and nodding in agreement. Instead you just mirror your best friend laughing.

Amelia is far too nice when replying, "No, you're giving the best advice."

"What kind of mood are you in tonight?" You bring the interview back to the default questions for the night, "Are you in the mood to party?" She considers the question and cocks her head before replying, "Yeah, I think so. This is kinda like a circus in the best way."

You nod because she is not wrong, "Okay." And Amelia agrees on it too, "Yeah." It feels like the tension has settled for a second, and it thankfully feels like this is the end of her interview. But, of course, you were too early in thanking superior forces for her leaving so fast because your heart drops as soon as she goes on to ask something you had long forgotten about.

"What word do I say wrong by the way?" Her challenging smirk is big on her face, the rise of her brows annoying you because it feels patronising. You immediately know what she's referring to but your brows furrow and you muster your best confused face as you quip, "Pardon?"

You swear you hear her scoff softly, giving you a roll of her eyes that most people would see as a joke but it just irritates you more, before adding, "On your date, you said that I say a word wrong? Lilac, was it?"

It sounds like she knows exactly which word she says wrong, so you hold back the urge to massively roll your eyes. Especially when she says it wrong again. So you nod, and emphasise the right way to pronounce the word as you confirm, "Yeah, lilac."

Then she goes again saying it weirdly, "Lilac," and you have to bite your tongue not to laugh. You take a shallow breath to calm yourself down since you feel like she's fully playing with you, before explaining, "No, it's one word, say it all together."

But she says it just the same again, "Lilac." You release a long sigh and try your best to appear as friendly and comedic as possible as you openly admit your lack of patience and her lack of ability in just saying the damn word correctly, "Yeah, no. This is not going to work."

Amelia diverts Halsey's attention from you to her as she lets out a hearty laugh, one that the singer very fakely joins into. You have to laugh along as well, before your best friend finally saves your arse and bids Halsey farewell, letting you feel just a bit of relief by having the girl out of your sight. But it would be a lie to say that the little awkward moment had not just ruined your night. It's a little pathetic of you to have let her rile you up so much, but from the shit she's written about your boyfriend in the past and now this passive aggressive interaction just set the tone.

It could've gone the other way entirely and you both laughed at the situation of your actually going out with someone she did. But no, you were met with silent animosity, sly digs, and looks that could kill. And to make matters worse, you're more than likely going to bump into her again inside, which pisses you off further. It makes you seriously debate just going back to the hotel with Matty and falling asleep in his arms. But you will absolutely not let that snake win.

Thankfully, the last few interviews manage to lift your spirits, Sam Claflin being the last person to step into your little corner. And the absolute gem of a man has you gigging instantly.

"British!" Sam exclaims when hearing you and Amelia say hello to him and welcoming him into the carpet. You and Amelia laugh and repeat with the same enthusiasm, "British!"

Sam lets out a sigh of relief at the familiarity of the accent, "That's so nice!" Amelia chuckles and jokes, "When British people see each other, that's what they do, they go: British!"

You and the man in the classic tuxedo say at the same time, "British!" And the three of you continue with your chorus of "British," until the word starts feeling odd when rolling off your tongue.

You point it out with a funny look on your face, "Alright, that's starting to sound like an odd word now." After a little laugh and Sam agreeing, Amelia points out, "We've seen a lot of your castmates."

Sam raises his brows, and looks around a little before saying, "See, I haven't seen them yet! And this is what I'm excited about." Amelia nods and continues with her line of questioning, "Yeah, we've actually seen them. So will you all be on the dancefloor together, do you think tonight?"

But Sam shocks you with his answer, "I'm not much of a dancer." It's a little hard for you to believe that he wouldn't be good at dancing. This man in front of you is so talented in so many ways, you're willing to bet money he's actually a great dancer. "Are you not?!" You say instinctively with a shocked expression on your face.

Sam looks devastated to bring the horrible news, "I can't say that I am." 

Amelia follows up with a sad, "Are you kidding?!" The actor shakes his head, "No. Yeah, ermm..." Amelia does bring back what you had seen when he was approaching you, "When you came over, just now, I thought you're definitely a dancer!"

"Oh, I did dance over!" Sam chuckles, nodding a bit. "Yeah!" You say enthusiastically. But he adds, "No. I uh, I definitely have the posture of a ballerina. But no, it's not for me." Amelia snorts, "A posture of a ballerina. I love that."

To change the topic, you ask, "Are you fan of a burger? There's In-N-Out burgers."

"I do love a burger." Sam nods and his face lights up when he asks, "There's In-N-Out burgers?" You just get the excitement on his face and eagerly nod, "Yes!"

Sam delivers yet more sad news to the audience when he confesses, "See, okay, I've only had In-N-Out once in my life." But this time, you get it because you could probably count the times you've had In-N-Out with one hand, "Oh yeah, because we're British."

Sam almost pouts as he says, "We don't have it." The faint sadness shows in Amelia's voice as she adds, "That's true, we can't really have it."

It is absolutely hilarious when Sam turns to the camera and points at it as he says, "So, if you're watching In-N-Out, bring it over, over the pond." You look at the camera and point as well as you emphasise, "Over the pond."

Sam hums and continues, "And introduce us, properly." Amelia nods like a child at the camera and mumbles, "Yes, please."

It's hard not to laugh when you turn to Sam and hide your sarcasm to ask, "Cos you've just been having, what? You've just been having Sunday roasts?" Sam chuckles at the question and nods, "Sunday roast."

Amelia says, "Fish and chips." The tone that the both of you use makes Sam laugh again, "Yeah. Oh, fish and chips."

Because it's your brand, you can't help but mention, "We've been having loads of nuggets." Sam hums, completely lost at the random mention of chicken nuggets, "Those are good too."

Amelia seems elated at his agreement and is chipper as she continues, "Right? Can never go wrong with some nuggets." Bless him, he must think you're not eating well if that has been the main course of your diet as of late, but you let him go with a big smile and an eager, "Well, thank you Sam!"

Amelia smiles brightly, "It's been a pleasure." He offers you a sweet smile and says, "Thank you to you both." You give him a tiny wave as he goes to hand back the mic, "Have a great time!"

While Amelia says, "Bye bye!" into her microphone. Hilariously, before he leaves, he salutes you as he says, "British!"

And you and Amelia cannot hold back from saluting him back as the both of you say "British!" Sam laughs as he walks away, heading to the photo section of the red carpet, leaving you and Amelia to finally wrap up the TikTok live.

"On that patriotic note, we're gonna say goodnight to you all," You start the closing dialogue of your interview section.

Amelia finishes your sentence with, "And go get ourselves some In-N-Out burgers!" Playing into your brand, once again, you quip, "You think they'd have chicken nuggets?" Amelia hums, considering that to be better than burgers, "Cross your fingers."

Turning back to look at the camera, you bid all your viewers goodnight, "Alright, thank you for watching guys!"

"This has been Amelia," Your best friend starts saying. You grin, "And Y/N, at the Vanity Fair Oscars After Party Red Carpet!" In unison, you say, "Bye!"

And just like that, the live is ended by the staff behind the cameras and you have officially survived your Oscars weekend.

This should make you so incredibly happy, ecstatic to have accomplished such a thing, and have been able to pull it off like you did, but your brain is cruel and all that flashes back to the forefront of your mind is Halsey's interview. You try to shoo away the way it made you feel, her voice echoing in your head when she said, "I'm sorry for you". It just makes you want to crawl out of your skin to remember her tone, and her expression when saying that. Who the fuck is she to comment on your relationship like that?

It's really hard to focus on anything else while you're getting your mic packs taken off your gowns as the crew picks everything up before leaving. When you get the greenlight to go though, you remember your favourite curly headed lad waiting for you backstage, and that's when a smile comes back to your face. You cringe at yourself internally when you feel like you're following the light as you basically power walk your way back to Matty. Amelia cackles behind you when you loudly wince at your aching feet trying to keep up with your need to get to the backstage room yesterday at this point.

But feet pain be damned, you can barely even feel it when your boyfriend opens the door just as you're turning the last corner. And seeing him is just the thing you needed to calm you down. You can't help but grin as you look at him. He's changed into his black tuxedo, and has a crimson shirt underneath that matches the colour of your dress to a tee. He's got a few buttons undone and showing his chest tattoo, and the chain that falls over it adds to the whole look, so you don't know how to react. He looks so good with those curls bouncing freely on his head and you adore that he has a matching smile on his face as you all but run to each other.

"I'm so proud of you," Matty whispers in your ear after he catches you in his arms. You feel yourself melt into the embrace. He feels like home and it's such an overwhelming sense of relief that you feel like you could cry. Your voice sounds croaky when you softly reply, "Thank you baby."

He pulls back, pecking your lips quickly before analysing your face. He can see your eyes gleaming, slightly teary but that could just be the excitement of the moment, or even anxiety, so he makes sure to ask, "You good?"

Like a magnet, your lips are on his again, this time more of a proper kiss. One that says those three words you're holding in tightly to yourself. He hums tasting your mouth again, and it all feels so right. You pull back, give him the brightest smile, contagious as he mirrors it, and confirm, "I'm good."

Amelia's heels clicking closer make your turn slightly in Matty's arms, but it's her groaning at your displays of affection that makes both of you laugh. "Okay, you vile pair-" Amelia clicks her fingers at you both before she ushers you along, "Let's go party and get a burger before they run out of them!"

Matty snorts at her, "Burger first?" Knowing Amelia, he says that more as a statement rather than a question.

Yet, Amelia surprises him when she sighs, "No, let's head to the bar. I need some shots first."

Matty's eyes widen and you cackle at your best friend. Not entirely against her wishes. So the three of you waste no time gathering your belongings, sending the stuff you won't need back to your hotel, and heading inside to the big party. 

The one thing you can think of when you step into the place is how Halsey was right saying this was a circus. You have to really put effort in keeping your jaw in place, because the amount of famous people you see walking around you so carelessly is insane.

You have to scorn yourself for still thinking about that conversation with Halsey, letting her words ruin such a monumental day in your career. But it proves quite hard when everything she said felt like a dig at you and your relationship. However, you do your very best to push the memory aside, focusing on enjoying this very moment with your best friend and your boyfriend.

When you come back to Earth, you see Amelia have the same look of disbelief on her face. Letting go of Matty's hand for a second, you hug your best friend tightly and squeal in her ear. A singular second of fangirling before you try and act cool so you don't blow your cover of 'fake it 'til you make it'.

Heading straight to the bar is a good way to fight that imposter syndrome. A shot of tequila helps you settle down a little, and sipping a fun cocktail on your way to your table rids you of your nerves. The three of you bump into Paul again, and you're all enthralled in amazing conversation for a while. People coming in to join you, and therefore meeting celebrities you had never thought you'd meet. It feels so surreal but you make sure to enjoy every bit of it.

That is until you volunteer to get the next round of drinks for you and Amelia. Matty had bumped into Kate Berlant, and after introducing you to her, you left him to chat with her while you went up to the bar. 

In your giddy state, thanks to the alcohol making you feel warm and fuzzy inside, you miss the fact that a certain someone catches you making your way over to the bar. His voice alone startles you, the way he lowers his tone an octave when flirting with you. "Fancy seeing you again, gorgeous."

The icky actor who heavily flirted with you on the carpet is a few steps from you, and you're half sure he sees the subtle uncomfortable cringe you let yourself have. It's impossible for you not to look slightly horrified at the fact that he's back in your presence. You truly felt earlier like you were being preyed upon by a drunken fool. And if that's not enough, the awkward and cold tone in your voice should help. "Oh, hi." You turn away, hoping all the signs make up the clear message in his head.

Apparently, everything flies over his head. He swiftly takes a big step so he ends in front of you again. Massive smirk on his face as he continues his flirting, "Was hoping to see you in here."

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself to be professional. After all, he could be a Chicken Shop Date, and that has never harmed anyone. "Yeah? Thank you so much for coming over to chat to us before." You smile, trying to be genuine with the encounter, because content is content at the end of the day. "It makes it so much easier for us when people are chatty."

It's an attempt to sound friendly, but the step you take back so you're at a distance from him, added to the fact that you hide your hands behind your back should give off the vibe that you don't want him close.

However, Mr. Can't Read Social Cues does not catch that either. He leans in as he comes closer to you, "Well, I saw you in that dress and couldn't stay away." He makes the effort to grab one of your forearms to take your hand and kiss the back of it with a smile on his lips, "You look like a million dollars."

Mentally, you scold yourself because you feel your cheeks burning. More so from annoyance that he is not getting your offstandish ways. You pull your hand back as calmly as you can. You would hate for anyone to see this entire interaction and take it the wrong way, awkwardly you smile at him trying to appear as if you're flattered. Truthfully though, all you can smell is the alcohol on his breath and you feel your skin crawl.

Clasping your hands behind your back again, you smile softly as you accept the compliment, "I certainly feel like it, thank you." He smiles endearingly at you, and you cringe internally when you realise he might be taking this as you being shy. And from the way his eyes keep looking you up and down you know he's not going to give up. 

And your point is proven because it becomes so much more obvious that he just doesn't understand a woman's demeanour when he goes even further with his flirting, "I'd certainly pay that much for your company. You'd be worth every penny."

You scoff in disbelief, but mask it with a giggle when he raises a brow at your reaction. Never in a million years would you want this guy to spend a penny on you, so you jokingly say, "Well lucky for you I'm free."

The way his face lights up at your comment makes your heart drop to your arse. "You're free?" He asks with a hint of hopefulness behind his lustry yet drunk voice, "If you are, I'd love to take you out sometime?"

Shit. Fuck. Idiot. You laugh over-exaggeratedly, trying to make it seem like it was a joke, "Oh I'm sorry, I just meant I'm free to chat now."

Relentless might be this guy's second name though, or so it seems, because he continues to list all the things he is willing to do for you. "I would though," His eyes never leave you, and the way his gaze runs down your figure makes you squirm in your place. It's almost like he's eating you up with his eyes as he declares, "Absolutely love to take you out, pamper you, not to one of your chicken places though. I'm thinking fancy restaurants, treat you to something that'll truly satisfy you before we finish the night in the best way possible."

It's really hard not to roll your eyes at him, or push him away from you. You sigh as softly as you can, thinking about how awful it will be for the girls who might fall for his love-bombing ways in the future. Spare them please, whoever you are up there. Mustering your sweetest, kindest, smile, you start letting him down easy, "As lovely as that sounds I-"

But he is quick to interrupt, words drunkenly stumbling out his mouth, "If it's an issue because you're going back home soon, that doesn't have to be a problem. You're more than welcome to stay here in LA with me. I can show you around and take you to all the lovely restaurants and sights we have to offer... Equally if you really have to get back, I have residence over in England so maybe you could take me around London?"

Kindness be damned, you can't even hold a fake smile when you say, "Thank you for the kind offer but I have a boyfriend."

His face falls entirely, almost like the fact has sobered him up, "You have a boyfriend?"

"Yes," You say quickly, cold and cutting. But it seems like not even a boyfriend will stop his advances, because he very easily asks, "Is it serious?"

This time it's impossible to hold back from letting out a mocking laugh at him. Sarcastically, you reply, "I'd like to think so."

You would have paid hundreds for someone to have captured your face when he adds, "Does he really have to know?" Your jaw all but falls to the floor after hearing that. Bewildered is an understatement, and it takes you a few seconds to gather yourself and declare, "I'm not a cheater."

He sounds to be very well versed in the art of cheating and its loopholes when he suggests, "Is it really cheating if only us two know?" 

You truly can't believe the words you're hearing. Never in your life did you think this talented actor would be a drunk idiot who prayed upon women. Appalled and disappointed don't quite cover it. "Yeah it is," You nod with no sympathy left in you. "As flattered as I am, I'm not interested. Thank you."

You make an attempt to go around him, and head for the other end of the bar, but he catches you before you can even take a third step. Your skin crawls at the feeling of his hand on yours again but looking back you hold your ground, not letting him intimidate you in the slightest. His face is riddled with confusion when he asks, "But the flirting?"

To anyone observing the encounter, the smile you give him might appear sweet, but to those who know you well would definitely see that you're being nothing but cynical. And you hope the lad catches it as you all but spell it out for him, "It's part of my job. I'm paid to do it. Please take the hint."

His cocky mouth opens again and you'd already prepared for another quip back at him, but thankfully a saviour appears. "Baby, do you need help carrying the drinks?" Hearing Matty's voice floods your system with relief, and you're quick to escape from the actor's grasp to wrap your arm around your boyfriend's side. It's amazing how just his presence alone calms you, but you're just glad you don't have to speak to the prick who's looking at you knowingly now.

Holding Matty's hand makes you relax all-together, and it can be heard in your voice when you nod at him, "Please, that'd be great."

He's awfully tense though. His jaw locked, brows furrowed, killing stare aimed at the drunk and stupid guy from the interviews. Matty can't help but menacingly ask, "Everything alright over here?"

"It was," The actor quickly replies. And you're relieved that this is all over far too soon, because he then puts on the most taunting smile and asks, "So this is the boyfriend?"

Matty clenches his hands, forgetting yours is holding him tightly. But before he can say anything that might end badly, you go ahead and factually say, "This is my boyfriend."

Your boyfriend who had been giggling and enjoying himself while chatting with some friends he had bumped into. That was until Kate mentioned something that Matty thought you would like. When he turned his gaze towards the bar to look for you, and saw this bloke chatting you up again, he excused himself and dashed your way. Every step he took was accompanied by the memory of everything he had said to you during your interviews. All the stupid one-liners that you had laughed at and not really turned down as evidently as Matty would have liked.

It's her job, he'd had to remind himself. But you weren't on camera anymore, not on the clock, not your job to entertain him anymore. And by the looks of it, something must have happened. When he was walking toward you, he saw you smiling but it was like you were gritting your teeth to even be able to manage the facial expression. Something had happened, and clearly you've handled it well, so Matty is simultaneously biting his tongue and holding himself back from making a scene, just as you are. Though he's sure you were getting your point across, it seems the drunk fool in front of the both of you clearly isn't quite taking the hint. Matty's hopeful that his presence now diffuses the situation. 

A certain line he said comes back to your boyfriend, and Matty can't go without ill-willingly letting the lad know he is the one you're with, "She does look incredible on the dancefloor, by the way. Enjoy your evening."

You would have laughed if it wasn't for the fact that the comment only causes the man to smirk widely, winking at you before saying one last thing before he goes, "Think about it."

The lad walks away with a swagger that makes you scoff and roll your eyes. But those words only make Matty frown and question their meaning, "Think about what?"

"Nothing," You brush away with a shrug. But before you can turn back around towards the bar, Matty comes closer to you and inquires again, "What did knobhead want?"

You sigh, already tired of dealing with the lad and the consequences of his drunken words, "A date."

Matty's brows furrow even more. "At a chicken shop?" He has no say when it comes to who you date for work or not. But he will definitely voice his annoyance before you think of bringing him on the show. For all he cares, Amelia can take that date.

But Matty sees red when you confirm, "No, an actual one." Everything the actor said was so stupid to you, so it's not a big deal for you to share the absurd idea the prick had when you said you were taken. You raise your eyebrows as you tell him, "And for me to cheat apparently."

The dead look Matty gives you then screams, are you fucking serious? And when you press your lips together, you silently answer with a look of confirmation. "Oh, absolutely not." That is the last nail in the coffin for Matty. His head snaps to the direction the actor walked off in as he says under his breath, "I'm gonna deck the little cunt."

He goes on his tiptoes, looking through the crowd for him but before he can make any move, you keep him in his spot. You grab his forearm before he can even take a step and you stand directly in front of him, your grip tightening ever so slightly.  His gaze falls on you and you sternly say, "Don't. He's gone now, that's all I wanted." You're so over the whole thing, and you don't want to let the prick ruin such a special night for you.

"He's got some nerve," Matty hisses through his teeth, still looking through the crowded room for the silly cunt. You don't think you've ever seen Matty so enraged. Not in person anyway, but this is much different to the videos where he's speaking passionately about something he believes in. You can practically see his anger seeping through his pores.

And while you agree, you want the whole thing dropped, "Please leave it. It's finished. It's fine, he's just a bit too drunk and clearly doesn't know what he's saying."

"It's not fine, not at all," Your boyfriend says back. You can see his rage through his eyes, pupils blown, and trying to find his target. He scoffs when he can't find the awful head of hair the lad sports in between the sea of people in the place. "Asking you to cheat? Really? Fucking dickhead."

You sigh, dropping your head to take a few seconds because you know that Matty's got every right to be upset about it. But you just want it over with. You don't want to think about that creep anymore, so you take a few seconds to acknowledge your emotions and let them pass. It takes a few seconds, and you can feel Matty's gaze on you but after a minute, you feel so much lighter.

When you pick up your head, you say, "Let's just get our drinks, yeah? I don't want this to ruin what this is for us." The fury in those brown eyes you love so much thankfully flickers out into nothing. And you relax a little more when your boyfriend manages to slip his hand into yours. And with the way that Matty leans in to kiss your cheek before you're off to actually get the drinks, you're thankful that he's complying with your wishes. Yet, the hard stare he gives the bartender when he smiles at you before taking your order tells you an entirely different story.

Possessiveness isn't something you've noticed from him in the past. But you can understand it just after a situation like this and there's a part of you that appreciates the way he's so willing to defend you. But you'd much prefer for him to just be at your side while you ignore advances from people like that. Not that you get many of those advances anyway, thank god.

You notice Matty's still a bit tense even when you get back to your table. It's hard to get a genuine chuckle out of him as he chats to the people who have been catching up with Amelia. And you can't miss the way he so overtly glancing around the room, not even being discreet with the way he's on the lookout for the damn actor. But there's only so much of that you can take, so you make a show of dragging him to the dancefloor with Amelia.

Luckily, your curly haired brunette can't avoid the hold you have on him for long. His hands are on your hips before he can even think about it, and his lips are looking for yours as you move to the rhythm of the catchy songs the DJ is playing.

Having a boyfriend that loves dancing around on stage and a best friend that enjoys making TikTok dances is a god send at this moment. Because you've never found yourself laughing so much as you watch the silly dances they both challenge each other with. And hearing that adorably quirky cackle that's so unique to Matty, when Amelia busts out a few wild moves, is music to your ears.

Relief floods you, and letting go as you're celebrating such a big night with two of your favourite people ever is so easy. You're only human though, and you grow thirsty after putting off your bodily functions for a good half hour.

Matty volunteers to go to the bar for another round, and you're so grateful for the quick break from the attack your heels have on your feet. Amelia and you are giggling and chatting in loud whispers to each other's ear while you wait for your drinks, but she leaves you in a rush when she spots someone she knows around the edges of the dancefloor.

You watch as she runs towards the girl and how they light up at the sight of each other before hugging tightly. The whole scene makes you sort of nostalgic for a memory in the making, and you just need to take it all in for a second. Your gaze goes around the entire room, taking in every detail and committing it to your memory. You can't help but feel so overwhelmingly lucky. Being at one of these events even a few years ago was a fever dream, and now that it's your reality and you were actually paid to attend is something you'll forever be grateful for. And then your eyes land on the person who makes you feel complete and your heart melts all over again.

On his way back to the table, Matty locks eyes with your dreamy stare, and you just spring up from your seat at the sight of him. He can't help but notice the tears threatening to spill on your waterline as he gets closer though, and he becomes a little worried. He's carrying three drinks and you rush to help him with them. Not because you want to take a sip of your fun little cocktail, but because you need to kiss him and feel his arms around you desperately.

"Everything okay?" He asks, concern evident in his tone. 

You nod and peck his lips before grabbing your and Amelia's drink, quickly making the short way back to your table and setting them there for the time being. Turning on your heels, you see Matty set his glass right beside yours, but he's so conveniently close, your hand cups his jaw and you trap him in a loving kiss.

He hums against your lips, an arm wrapping around your waist while he rests on arm at the edge of the table. His worry dissipates quickly, and he can guess you just got in your head a little and you let yourself have a moment to take in everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. Matty only hopes that you're as proud of yourself as he is of you.

Giggles come from you when he leans forward, threatening to tumble you backwards and onto the table. You feel his smirk on your lips, but neither of you dare break the kiss. It's too perfect to stop yourself, you adore the feeling of the butterflies in your stomach as you kiss the man you love.

Matty knows you're not one for PDA, so this is a surprise to him, and he would be crazy to even think of cutting the moment short. Your mouths move together so naturally, second nature to show all the emotions inside you that you haven't said in words just yet. But you're so close to letting them out. His tongue teases the three words that hang on the tip of yours as he deepens the kiss. It's impossible for you not to break the kiss as you throw your head back in a cackle when his hand comes down from your waist to grab a handful of your arse. Even that's a step too far for you though, so you gently move his hand back to your lower back.

You're about to tease him for his actions, but he gets in there before you, so he can say, "I'm so proud of you, baby."

Your chest swells at the words, tears welling up in your eyes again when hearing the sweet conviction in his voice. There's nothing you love more than getting lost in those gorgeous brown eyes of his, and you can see just how earnest his statement is because you can feel the love he has for you radiating from him. But you don't get a chance to reply when you feel a hand resting gently on your upper arm, drawing your attention away from your lovely boyfriend.

Out of everyone you could expect to ruin such a moment, the last you expected was the person who stands right in front of you right now.

"Hey, there's no cameras in here, you know?" Halsey says, the condescending tone seeping from her lips as she continues, poison lacing her words, "You don't need to do this."

You have no idea what else to say other than, "Pardon?" as you and your boyfriend detangle from each other, which makes the intrusion all the more bitter.

But the singer fully ignores you, her gaze now falling on your boyfriend, who she gives a bright smile and greets with a nod and a soft, "Matty."

Standing up straight, but bringing you with him as he still clutches your waist, Matty smiles back at her to make this a friendly situation, "Ashley, how've you been?"

"Okay, thank you." She smiles at him, "Saw your show in LA. Your tour seems to be going well."

"Yeah," Matty nods, "I'm certainly enjoying it, thank you."

And while this exchange is very pleasant for distant exes, you can't help yourself. You have to know what she meant when she first came over and interrupted you, "I'm sorry, what don't I need to do?"

The woman with the wet look pixie cut finally looks at you again now. The harshness of her dark eye makeup makes her stare even more jarring when she finally responds with, "Be all over him-" She nods at Matty, "Because you went on a filmed date."

"There's a 'no camera policy' in here." She smiles patronisingly at you, as if she wants it to come across like she's doing you a favour when she informs you, "No one will report on what you're trying to do... So you can relax, and just enjoy the party."

Despite the shock of that coming from absolutely nowhere, all you can think is, wow, what a dumb fucking bitch. For a start, you don't know how she's missed the fact you and Matty are officially an item. It's not as if either of you have been hiding it, and from the way you've both been prayed on by the paparazzi over the last few months, you know that media companies in America have had you in articles over here.

Secondly, if you and Matty were faking a relationship just to get more coverage in the media, who the fuck is this bitch to tell you what not to do? Who the fuck is she to get involved in yours or Matty's business at all?

But before you say anything, you want to hear her admit to this being what she thinks is going on. You frown a little, feigning confusion, "And what am I trying to do?"

"Oh, you know. The dancing, the hugging, the kissing..." She looks between you and almost laughs when she sees Matty's arm still wrapped around your waist. "You might as well be attached to his hip."

As annoying as it is to have your relationship questioned in this way, you can't help but find this whole interaction rather amusing. An ex getting a little too involved in a new relationship is genuinely hilarious to you, especially when Matty has (in the past) already stressed just how much he and Halsey were never an official item.

Before your boyfriend picks his jaw up to correct the woman he used to sleep with, you beat him to it. And Matty can't help but take pride in the way you're so nonchalant and sarcastic about it. "Oh right," You nod before dryly saying. "I wasn't aware that I needed permission to have a drink with, or dance with, or kiss my boyfriend but I'll certainly endeavour to get authorisation next time." You turn towards him slightly, laying a hand over his shirt as you ask, "Matty, any issues?"

Even from just this small shared look between you, the humour is so clear in both of your eyes just how amusing you're finding this. 

"None at all." Matty smiles at you.

The smirk that finds its way to your lips has your boyfriend biting his tongue to stop himself laughing. There's certainly a silent conversation happening between you, and it's along the lines of, I can't believe you used to date this woman - yeah it wasn't my best decision making - I can't believe the audacity she has - Yeah, tell me about it. Why do you think it didn't last?

"Wait," Halsey brings you back to reality and the both of you glance back to her, watching as she blinks slowly, and there's something so satisfying about seeing the moment realisation seeps in. "This is real?" The singer points between the two of you, dumbfoundedly asking, "You two are actually..."

Letting your voice have that noticeable gravel drawl, you nod slowly, patronisingly, "As real as a heart attack."

"Since when?" She frowns, shaking her head as if she still doesn't believe you.

It's a pathetic question regardless. Her having a date won't make her believe your romance any more than she already does. Matty has to hold back a scoff, unable to believe how entitled she feels to information that is none of her business. Especially not when she approaches the two of you with a ridiculous superiority complex, "Since I asked her to be my girlfriend and she said yes."

The bitch inside you wishes she could add, A question that you never heard. 

Before you could even have the chance to though, Matty wraps the interaction up for the both of you, "Now if you'll excuse us Ashley, we've got things to be doing." Your boyfriend quickly reaches behind you and grabs the drinks again before you start walking off. "Wish I could say it's been great to see you, but alas."

You're somewhere between wanting to scoff or laugh as you take yours and Amelia's drinks from Matty, pinching both glasses between your fingers, so you can take Mattys other hand in your free one. Ultimately, you just end up shaking your head a little when you look at the curly haired brunette, finally getting to voice, "She's actually deluded."

"Yeah, well. Nothing that different from ten years ago." Matty sighs like he can't stand his past self for ever going there. And you're sure you'll talk about it more at some point tomorrow when you recap your day, but for now, you're happy when he gives your hand a squeeze and smiles at you, "Come on, I swear I just saw George."

You grin, looking around yourself for the lovely gentle giant who's in this room full of stars. And it doesn't take you long to find the man in question, and when you do, you see that he's already found your best friend too. George - dressed in a lovely light grey suit - and Amelia are in deep conversation when you get to them, but what you fail to notice until someone else moves out of your way is that there's another special guest with them.

This man is wearing a dashing burgundy suit with a black shirt underneath, his beard groomed to perfection, and his hair tied back in that man bun that screams 'pull me'. It's absolutely no wonder that you slip from Matty's grip to go and say hello to the man you're so very lucky to call your friend.

"Ross!" You smile brightly, wrapping your arms around the tall bassist. And you take every comfort in the big hug that he gives you, "I didn't know you were here!"

"Yeah well, these two were coming so I didn't wanna be left out." He explains, "And Hann was going back home, so I just got on the plane with George instead."

You chuckle a little, but then realise again where you are and just how prestigious this place is. He certainly couldn't just come in with George, he'd have to be on a list. So you ask a little confused, "But how'd you get into the after party?"

"Oh," Ross grins at you then, releasing you from your hug before he takes a step back and wraps his arm around Amelia, "Courtesy of your best friend. I'm her boyfriend for the evening."

"Oh," Your jaw falls slightly, as you glance between them, smiles on both their faces. You can't stop yourself from nodding, "Lucky."

"Lucky who?" Matty asks, taking his place by your side once more having already said hello to George.

You briefly hum in amusement, "Don't ask questions you don't wanna know the answers to." Unsurprisingly, Matty pinches you then as the others start laughing at you. But with a quick playful slap to his arm, you promise him, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

"I know you are." Your boyfriend nods, pulling you tightly into his side for a moment so he can kiss your cheek, and deciding to throw caution to the wind even more, you steal a proper kiss from him. PDA be damned.

After your kiss, you slip from Matty's grip once more to give Amelia her drink and to greet George properly. You adore the bear hug he gives you, and it's an effort to pull away from the warm embrace. "Where have you been the past few hours?" You ask him.

"Charli wanted to be fashionably late," He explains with a big smile, "And me and Ross wanted a back door entrance."

"You could have come through with us ages ago." You slap his arm a little. You all could have been having a good time together so much earlier if you knew this. Already knowing Charli will look amazing, you can't help but get excited to see her again as it's always an amazing night when you're out with her. You hope that she comes and finds you all soon.

"You two ladies-" The drummer nods to you and Amelia, "Attract too much attention and the last thing we need is more attention."

George adds with a smirk as he looks at Ross, "Especially after last night."

You frown at that, not quite understanding, "Last night?" You're so confused, as the only thing you know that happened last night was, "SNL?" Even when you glance at Matty for some insight, he looks just as confused as you. He's none the wiser, so you're happy as the drummer continues divulging more information.

"The afterparty..." George smirks, his eyes full of mischief when he informs you, "Where several women had to be escorted out because they were fighting over Ross."

Your jaw drops at first, imagining that scene and being slightly disappointed that you missed seeing that unfold. But the fomo dissipates, and a shit-eating grin cracks on your face as you turn to your boyfriend to say, "I told you they like Ross more than you! I told you!"

All your boyfriend has to say about it is, "Bullshit." Clearly not wanting to let go of the heartthrob-of-the-band title but you won't back down when it's a fact now.

"He is, and he has been for a while." You nod, and you even look to George for back up when you add, "I bet they were all over him."

"Swear on my life, Matty." George mimes a cross over his heart, and the biggest smile lights up your face. Being right about it is just fueling your ego on another level, and it's even better when his best friend adds, "Never seen anything like it before." George's smirk makes giggles bubble up your chest, and you let them out childishly when he clutches the bassist's shoulder and sets on stone, "Ross MacDonald the last last single stud of The 1975, ready to be devoured at any given moment."

Devoured. The use of the word makes your face heat up, and it is then that intrigue takes over. It's impossible not to ask, "Did you show any of them a good time at least?"

"How dare you suggest such a thing." Ross fakes a scoff before wrapping his arm around Amelia's waist and pulling her into his side as he plays on their new fake dynamic, "I've got a girlfriend to think about." You don't know whether to be jealous or happy for your best friend. But watching her blush has you wanting to scream at the top of your lungs. Maybe it's time to suggest a foursome to Matty?

Instead, you smirk and switch up your inquiry, "Are you going to show her a good time?"

Ross smirks at you before looking down at your very flustered best friend, deciding to reply with a mysterious, "If we're lucky."

Matty and George shake their heads, pulling Ross away from Amelia as you just look at your best friend and mouth, 'you lucky, lucky bitch'. The grin on your face won't subside as she walks towards you and grabs your hand, saying a quiet, "Shut up, shut up." The giggle that leaves your lips is loud, but the smile from this point onwards never leaves your face. Taking your hand, Amelia pulls you to the dancefloor, clearly needing a moment where it's just the two of you and no friends around to embarrass her further. Although, you do make her blush once more by telling her to go for it with Ross. Even if it's just for a night, she's absolutely won either way.

Unsurprisingly the subject gets dropped, even though you see the way her eyes linger on the bassist as she gets a little more tipsy and as you dance with her you catch the way Ross' eyes linger on her. You hope the both of them end up having a wonderfully messy night.

All previous sour interactions have left your mind, each sentence that had made you feel bittersweet before has been switched for the sound of Amelia's giggles as you have a dance off with each other. Charli bestows compliments on you when she eventually finds you, about your makeup and dresses and there's so much laughter from you all, but especially from George when you start your fake advances at his girlfriend. Not to mention how happy Matty's kisses make you feel, and you can't help but love the way Ross' winks at your best friend. Every negative thought you'd had while being here thankfully completely disappeared. You feel like you're riding such a high, and you wish you could bottle up that feeling and never let go of it.

"Come on, dance with me." You ask your boyfriend, and he absolutely indulges in your wishes without a second thought.

Dancing with him, song after song, wraps it all together for you. The man of your actual teenage dreams dancing with you, kissing you every chance he gets, at a place that never in your wildest dreams you thought you would be invited to, surrounded by people you only ever saw through big screens or on stage metres away from you.

It's a little wild to you how many familiar faces come up to you while you're on the dancefloor to speak to you about your work. About how much they adore Chicken Shop Date, or about how they love the way you and Amelia are on camera, and even how they love your friendship. Everyone is so beyond kind to you, and you truly don't think your heart has ever been so full. These talented people come up to you expressing how brilliant they think your show is, the one that you and your best friend dreamt up back in high school. Not only that, but now these celebrities are saying that they would love to be on a chicken shop date when you propose the idea of them coming on the show.

A million emotions course through you, and sometimes you don't even know how to react to it all. You're grateful, first and foremost, but it becomes rather overwhelming after a few hours of greeting so many new-but-old faces. Imposter syndrome mixed with the cocktails, aching feet, and a damn long past few days, you can feel your social battery draining at an increasing rate.

Matty is the first to notice, and he keeps a close eye on you until you say something. Only that you don't. And he can see the fact that you would rather be anywhere else but here now, but the words won't come out of your mouth.

"You wanna get a burger and head back to the hotel?" He asks into your ear while you softly dance together to a slower song.

You perk up instantly, your tired eyes widening at the thought of some food and the comfy hotel bed. Nodding, you smile to agree, "I would love to."

Your boyfriend pecks your lips before he stands up straight. A smile comes to his face when he sees your shoulders fall in relief at the prospect of leaving, "Let's say bye to them lot, and we'll sneak off."

Goodbyes are quick with the boys, George and Ross both giving you a bear hug and they melt your heart when they say they're proud of you, and you kiss them on their cheeks as a thank you. Charli gives you a hug before she's dragged away by someone who only just found her, but that gives you more time saying goodbye to your best friend. You're sure it's a solid 2 minutes that you clutch each other tightly for. You're both swaying, refusing to release the other, whispering how much you love each other and how proud you are of each other. Without any doubt you know that at one point you almost make her cry, and it's when you just about choke out that you can't believe that you've both made it. 

When you eventually release each other, Matty notes the glassiness to your eyes so you really appreciate the way he grabs your hand and pulls you into his side and kisses your temple. On your way over to the fast food stand, you get stopped by a few more people wanting quick chats, all of the encounters leave you smiling like a lunatic despite you growing more tired by the minute. Before you know it, your order is being bagged up for the both of you, and Matty has your hand in his as you both aim for the exit. You can't help but steal one last glance at the room filled to the brim with A listers and you feel beyond lucky all over again.

Pride fills your chest as you take it all in for the last time, and you can't tame the smile on your lips. But that smile turns to a full on grin as you turn to leave after spying your best friend and a certain bassist dancing too suggestively and far too close together. God certainly has favourites, and you and Amelia are certainly near the top of the pecking order.

~*~*~*~

Matty holds your big In-N-Out bag, leaning against the doorframe while you look through your little purse for your hotel room key.

All that is on your mind is taking your heels off, eating, taking off your makeup, and cuddling your boyfriend in bed until you fall asleep. You can't get in the room quick enough once the door opens, and Matty can't stop smiling at you. Your little list is stuck like a post-it to the forefront of your mind, and you tick the first item off it as soon as you open the door. Seeing where your expensive and borrowed heels fly to, distracts you for a few seconds from the very big surprise that awaits you sitting on the coffee table.

"Oooo flowers!" You gasp loudly, dropping your purse on the floor, when your gaze lands on the royal blue and white roses. There's so many of them it fills the table as a stunning centrepiece. "These are huge," you can't stop yourself from thinking out loud, wondering how many roses make up for the large arrangement. "They must've been so expensive for Vanity Fair to buy. I guess they've got the money though."

You chuckle hearing yourself, but before going back to your boyfriend and the delicious meal that awaits you, you notice the little envelope that pops out in between the flowers. It's been placed in such a way that you don't see the 'Baby' written on the back of it until you pluck it from the holder.

"Matty..." you say under your breath, knowing that this is his handwriting, and therefore, the flowers are his doing. As you go to open the envelope, a soft "What?" falls from your lips, but he just watches you with a smile so that you continue reading the little note.

'I never thought something we said on our first ever date would be so true. Thank you for showing me the art that is dating you. You continue to amaze me every day. I'm so unbelievably proud of you, baby.'

Your heart is hammering against your chest, begging to escape its humane prison to end up in his hands. Each word on the note branding itself on the forefront of your mind while your eyes can't stop going over them again and again. It's hard to tell if you're dreaming or not.

"You deserve them and more," your boyfriend says, snapping you out of your trance.

"Baby." You whisper, a lump almost forming in your throat at the emotions threatening to escape. But of course they do, your eyes fill with tears and a few fall slowly down your cheeks. Instantly, you walk towards him, your arms instantly wrapping around his neck and burying yourself into the comfort that is his body. Matty holds you tightly, but on your way over, he spied your glistening eyes. So he leans back a little, prying your face from his neck and cupping your cheeks in his hands so he can see his gorgeous girlfriend.

"No," He says softly, trying not to coo at your pouting face. Thumbs rubbing at your cheeks as he attempts to stop your tears from spilling, "No crying on me."

But it's actually impossible not to. Not when the flowers are insanely beautiful, not when his words make your heartbeat erratic. Not when everything you feel about him is coming over you like pouring rain, impossible not to become overwhelmed by their effect over you. "Thank you so much, I- I-" Your eyes leave his briefly, glancing back at the beautiful bouquet, your voice almost cracks as you explain, "No one's ever given me flowers before."

It's almost pathetic that you're crying over flowers, but it just feels so special and you feel beyond grateful for this charming man being in your life. Never have you felt so happy. Never did you think this sort of happiness was intended for you, and the fact you now have it makes it all the more precious to you. 

You all but fling yourself at your boyfriend again, clutching him as tight as you possibly can which makes Matty release one of those wonderfully unique giggles of his. He smiles, leaning into you to place a kiss where your shoulder meets your neck before he says, "Well if you're going to cling to me like this, please expect them all the time now."

A teary giggle escapes your throat, but you don't let him go as you whisper a sincere, "Thank you so so much."

"Anything for you." Matty smiles, his hand rubbing up and down your back comfortingly. He gently tells you again, "I'm so so proud of you."

"I'm proud of you." It's a must that you say it back at him, because getting to witness all the things he and the guys are doing fills you up with pride. But there is also a tinge of regret when you admit, "I wish I'd brought you a present to New York now."

Of course, your boyfriend is adorable and says, "I had you as my present. And you're all I'll ever need." He kisses your cheek, and his lips brush the soft skin of your face as he declares, "Best present ever."

But that only makes you want to cry again. Your chin wobbles, and your eyes fill with tears, while your voice is just strong enough to let out a broken, "Matty."

"No crying." He smiles with a tiny shake of his head, and he makes an effort to be cheerier and to distract you a little so you're not ending the night crying, no matter if the tears are happy or sad. "Come on," Matty takes one of your hands in his and gives it a little squeeze before smiling brightly, "Let's eat. I don't know about you but I'm starvin'."

Sniffling a little, you wipe the remnants of your tears and move your gorgeous flowers towards the side so that Matty and you could set up your feast on the nearby glass table. You take your seats on either side of the corner, so you're facing each other and your feet end up knocking against each other as you set out your meal.

The food has gotten a little cold now, but it still looks amazing. And after such a long day, you can't wait any longer to dig in. After taking a big bite of your cheeseburger, you hum in content and dance a little in your place. Matty chuckles as he takes a bite as well, and it's when he grabs a chip that you get nostalgic.

The parallels between your first ever date, contractual or not, and tonight are all that you're thinking, "I feel like we're in a really fancy version of a chicken shop."

"Yeah, same." Matty agrees, looking around as he takes in the luxurious look of the hotel room and compares it to that chicken shop in London where you first dated, "Fancier venue too. The food is just the same and average."

You can't help but think about how much you would pay to go back to that first date. To tease him for being late, ask all the silly questions Amelia and you had come up with, to get him flustered and for him to get you flustered. Never would you have thought that it would have brought you here, to this very moment. And the conclusion you always get to is, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Your boyfriend gives you a sickenly sweet smile, and his eyes scream sincerity when he replies, "Me neither."

Your smile is huge just before you take a bite of your burger, but Matty's silent questioning has you explaining, "You're practically dressed the same as you were on our date."

Matty looks down at himself and chuckles, "Oh yeah." noticing only his shirt is a different colour to the white one he wore on the date.

"I feel like I'm on par with you now." You take his attention back to you, and his eyes drop to your exquisite crimson dress again and he can't help but smile.

"Hey," Matty raises his eyebrows as he eats a chip. He's unable to stop his smirk, "You looked amazing in those leather pants." The memory of it makes you giggle, and you're sure you'll never forget the way he looked at you on your official second date either when you wore the black ones just to toy with him. You make a mental note to get a few more leather pieces for your wardrobe when you get back home.

"Not as good as you in those black ones in the Love Me video." You grin, "Your arse is better now than it was back then, I need to get you in a pair again." Biting your lip for a second, you have to add, "Tight ones, preferably."

The snort that Matty releases makes a smile appear on both of your faces. "I knew you only wanted me for my body." You hum in fake agreement, with a playful roll of your eyes as you take another bite of your burger. Matty feeds you a few of his chips then which makes you giggle again but you gratefully accept them.

Relishing the moment you are sharing with your boyfriend is easy, but it's hard for you to wrap your head around everything that's happened tonight, "This still feels so surreal. I can't believe this is my life."

Matty, being the jokester that he is, can't help himself and says, "Baby, I thought you were over being starstruck by my presence."

You roll your eyes, and sarcastically laugh, "Ha, ha. You're a little shit." And though you would love to joke about it, like you know your boyfriend is trying to do, to make whatever ramble you're about to go on not as heavy on yourself, you can't help but let your thoughts leave you freely.

"It's just-, I don't know." It's frustrating how you can't find the appropriate words for your feelings, so you just continue talking, "A designer offered to make this dress for me. Vanity Fair and The Academy wanted Amelia and I as hosts for this carpet. People we have been looking up to for ages actually recognised us and said they love our work."

"I don't understand how this just happened. And it's not been overnight. We've been doing this for almost 10 years now. But... I'm just amazed by it all." Truth be told, you had never thought things would come to be this big for you two after such a long time trying to make it anywhere. "And I feel awful that I just wanted to be gone by the end of the party." You felt so ungrateful in the moment, and now you feel the need to apologise for it, "I'm sorry, by the way. For letting my energy get so low, and just not keeping up with the energy inside the party."

"Baby-," Matty starts, but you can't hear him say you don't need to apologise again.

"No, I-. You might have wanted to stay, but I was just drained." Admitting that is hard, knowing that you should've enjoyed every second of it. Imposter syndrome being exchanged for shame at yourself for not taking in every little bit that you're getting back now. "And I know you. I know we left because of me."

The look you give him makes him reach out for you, holding your hand over the table. Earnestly, he starts, "Baby, you don't have to apologise for that. Ever." You pout at him, unsure of how to truly feel; relieved by the reassurance that it's okay to have wanted to escape all that, or still guilty to have felt so overwhelmed by such a big night.

Your boyfriend knows how to get you to smile though, because he gives you a cheeky smile as he adds, "You know we'll always leave at the same time."

A snort comes from you, and you shake your head while fighting a big grin tugging at the corners of your lips to call him out, "Of course you had to do a self-reference."

He shrugs, squeezing your hand twice, "Made you laugh."

You hum, not wanting to actually acknowledge that, instead admitting, "Made me want to listen to Notes."

Matty grabs another chip, with the hand he's not holding yours with, and contently promises, "I'll serenade you once I'm done with my food."

Now that's one thing you'd love, so you smile brightly as you continue to eat. But Matty notices how your smile fades off as you silently continue eating, so it's no surprise when you show that you've been giving it all a thought again when you confess, "I know you just said I shouldn't apologise but I must confess it's become so much attention now, sometimes I think I'm not made for it."

He looks at you seriously this time, knowing how hard it is to struggle with fame. Having dealt with not only his own, but his parents' and the effect it had on his family. Even though he knows it's not the best thing to hear, he knows that the best insight he can give you is, "You sort of get used to it."

"What if I never do?" You ask genuinely, "Because I can deal with the dates, the promo for them, and these events. But only when it's on camera." A heavy sigh leaves you when you remember what happened earlier, another example of why that attention you're getting can be so inconvenient, "I was so uncomfortable when that guy came up to me inside."

"That prick?" Matty says straight away, but he notices what he's doing again, so he rephrases it, "The actor?"

"Yeah. He wouldn't get any of the things I was telling him. And then you came over..." The feeling of uncertainty that filled you at that moment comes back as a ghost that makes goosebumps break on your skin, "I didn't know what to do, honestly."

Your boyfriend pales, and stops eating. It's clear now how much of a dickhead he had been earlier, and he apologises for it, "I'm sorry for reacting like that instead of comforting you."

You don't want to make it a big deal, not wanting for that drunk guy to take away from tonight. And you know that Matty saw all the flirting on the livestream, you cannot judge him for being jealous when you would've been too if you were in his position, "It's alright, I get it."

But you sure appreciate how self-aware and thoughtful your boyfriend is when he continues, "No, I went defensive instead of making sure you were okay. And I know you can handle yourself, and you did handle it yourself but I should've thought of only you instead of wanting to get all macho man with the lad."

What you don't expect though, is for another apology to follow. "And while we're apologising, I'm sorry about Ashley's behaviour." It takes you a second to realise he's talking about Halsey but he continues, "You didn't need all of that today and certainly, especially on camera but even afterwards in the party." Matty can't help but shake his head as he frowns, "She never could bite her tongue if something was on her mind but that hit a new low this evening."

"Nonsense," You shake your head, picking up another few chips as you say, "You don't have to apologise for that, for her."

"I know I don't," Matty is instant and even pauses eating as he tells you, "But maybe if in the past, if I had left things a little better, you wouldn't have had to be on the receiving end of that today."

You can see the guilt simmering in his eyes, and that's something you never wish to see. Especially about this specific subject. There's nothing you want him apologising for. "Her not growing up and getting over it is not your issue." You very seriously say, looking into his gorgeous eyes as you promise him, "She didn't ruin my night, and you don't need to apologise."

You lean across the table and take his hand, squeezing a little as you smile, "Having you here with me tonight was one of the best things about it."

Matty can't help but smile as he intertwines your fingers. He tilts his head to the side as he playfully asks, "Not the best thing about it?"

"Oh no no," You can't help but smirk at him, grabbing another chip with your other hand and eating them as you grin, "You gotta know your place."

Matty can't help but laugh, but he indulges you, asking, "Do tell."

He's so beyond easy to wind up, it's a joke. And all it takes is three little words. Your curly haired brunette's face changes entirely when you smirk, "Seeing Ross, obviously."

"Oh come on!" Matty scoffs, pulling his hand from yours to playfully hit the table in fake frustration. It's beyond funny as you can see him wanting to laugh, but he manages to restrain himself. But you can't help but think back to the man who your boyfriend still doesn't believe is now more thirsted over than himself. One day you will show him the depth of stan twitter.

"Did you see him and Amelia when we left?" You have to question as you eat some more of your food, and you almost find yourself flushing a little when you ask, "I wonder if they left together."

Matty smiles, as it wouldn't surprise him after the way he saw his mate looking at your best friend this evening. But he can't help but plead, "Don't put a glass to the wall I beg."

"She's across the hall, so at least we're safe." You chuckle a little, but you can't help but let your mind go a little wild and your lips get a little loose as you add, "However, I'd do anything to be a third."

Never have you seen your boyfriend's jaw fall so fast than it did just then, and it takes everything you have to stop yourself from bursting out laughing. His dramatic leaning back in his chair, shaking his head and crossing his arms, "Wow, okay," makes it even harder to stifle your laughter.

"Oh don't get jealous." You purse your lips to stop your amusement from showing, but you're sure that you're not hiding it very well. "If there's a third, there would be a fourth. I'd bring you."

Matty raises his eyebrows, as he half laughs, half scoffs in disbelief, "Oh how gracious of you!"

You can't hold your laughter then, and it seems your boyfriend can't either. You both let a few laughs out, the last of your food long since forgotten in front of you, but Matty shakes his head as his chuckling slowly subsides, "I'm not sharing you. No way."

"Oh come on." You tease, the smile on your face never faltering as you carry on taking the mick, "Even with our best friends? We've all kissed before."

"What now?" Matty's eyes somehow get wider.

"Well," You chuckle as you correct yourself, "Me and Amelia, you and Ross. What's the difference?"

Your boyfriend shakes his head, "No." A smile is still tugging on his lips though, and you're adamant to get that grin back on his face.

"Come on!" You lean forward and poke his knee, trying now to annoy him into submission.

"No, I don't want them to touch you." Matty bats your hand away, shaking his head again, his curls going everywhere as he says, "No way."

Smirking, you sing-song, "You're jealous."

Matty wraps a curl around his finger a few times before he says, "No."

"Don't lie." You laugh, knowing full well that you're right. So you nod, repeating yourself, "You're so jealous."

You would've bet thousands on him not admitting he was jealous, yet he shocks you first when he easily replies, "Well of course I'm jealous." But it's far easier for him to say, "I love you."

You see his face change from the faux nonchalant demeanour he had put on to tone down his jealousy, to an expression of surprise at himself. But his face didn't fall in fear nor embarrassment. There was a shadow of relief, a sparkle of anticipation rather than dread for your answer. Because, truly, he's spent so many nights thinking about when the best moment to tell you would be. The struggle to keep in those three words has been excruciating, but the need to make it special has been even worse.

But now he's here, letting slip at such a random time, and though he should be worried he's fucked it all up by saying it now, he feels a weight lift off his shoulders. His heart beats freely inside his chest, content at the fact that it's all out in the open, just waiting for what you're going to say next.

A massive smile makes its way to your face, your cheeks will be hurting and you know it, because there's nothing and no one that will be able to wipe it off your face. "Yeah?" You giggle because the two of you saying these words to each other like this is so you. And you truly wouldn't have it any other way. That's exactly why you add, "I'd probably be jealous as well because I love you too."

"Give me a kiss." Matty's grin is unlike anything you've seen before, and he leans forward, needing that closeness once more. Of course, you're about to lean forward and kiss him, but a memory springs to mind which keeps you sitting back in your seat.

The smile on your lips is untamable when you say, "Can't reach."

Something in Matty's heart lurches when you say that. The image of you doing the exact same thing to him back on your first date is quick to enter his mind. He can't believe just how much has changed since that day. Never would he have imagined that agreeing to the date and asking for you back at the NME awards would lead to him being in the most meaningful relationship of his life. Never has he felt such love from another person, or has been so in love before.

So there's absolutely no hesitation from him when he smiles, "I can reach."

"I can't reach." You stay where you are, a massive smile still on your face as you sit back needing the past to repeat itself.

Smirking, Matty stands up, "I can reach." and he places his hands on the table dividing you, leaning closer, and he gently takes your chin between his thumb and finger and makes you look up at him. He leans in closer to kiss you but pauses a few inches away to promise, "I'll always reach."

And if you weren't already madly and deeply in love with him, you would have been then. You bridge the gap and kiss the love of your life like you can't wait another second.

You've kissed your boyfriend before a million times, every one of them releasing a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, but this time it feels different. His plush lips slotting between yours, the warmth of his hands cupping your face, the sound of his soft exhales as he moves with you. His tongue poking out slowly to tease yours, an invasion that you accept gracefully with a hum that makes him hold you a little tighter. But it's not rushed, it's not shadowed by lust or need; it's slow and deliberate, intense yet thoughtful, like both of you are trying to memorise what it feels to taste each other's mouth when the novelty of those three words is still fresh on your tongues.

Matty's smile is so soft once he pulls back from the kiss, despite having done reluctantly so. "Say it again."

"I love you." You whisper, needing him to know those words are only ever for him from this moment on. Your heart is his and it forever will be. Nothing will ever change that now.

Matty watches you say that to him, and he can't believe his luck. You're it for him, and he has every intent to cross every milestone with you. Give it a year and he has every intention to have a stone on your left ring finger.

He presses another kiss to your lips just before he promises, "I love you." The small giggle that leaves your lips in answer is one of pure joy. You can't believe that you're so lucky, that you have such a wonderful man who has been your crush for years declaring his love for you.

"Okay, I'm changing my answer," You say randomly, not really bursting the bubble of your moment but piquing at Matty's curiosity.

So he is quick to ask, "To what?"

You definitely get his heart racing when you make clear what it is that you're referring to, "Seeing Ross wasn't the best thing to happen today."

He smirks, prematurely smug about what you're about to say and how it definitely involves him. "Ah, really. What's the best thing now?"

Yet, you remind him of just why he fell absolutely and irrevocably in love with you when you say someone else's name instead of his, "Paul Mescal."

Matty cackles loudly, not having anticipated you saying that at all, but he plays along, "Now that's a crush I can get behind. We have similar taste with that one."

"See?" You grin, "That's why I love you."

~*~*~*~ The End ~*~*~*~

A/N: We're so damn emotional finishing this story. We never anticipated what it was going to become, but we thank you endlessly for all the love you gave it and allowing us to continue to have fun with it. Long live Baby and Matty, we'll miss them loads.

Taglist: @kennedy-brooke @faveficz @indierockgirrl​  @slutformattyhealy  @kmsmedine @cecefaith​ @benkidgenius @avasjunkpile@spicyraccoonlordking@lizzylynch1​ @ofbluesandyellows​ @kipperthedog2004​ @slutforcoffein​ @madamedesmond​ @iamhallucinationnn @imagines4peeps @siwiecola​ @eaglestar31 @neverlieliliac​ @olliewhinchester​ @internetmultifandomfangirl @wellwellhereiam​ @dania7361 @kurdtbean @mawanji @jazzymariexoxoc @picklesandsprinkles @home-of-disaster​ @maelialuv​ @londonalozzy​ @ker0senebunny​ @golden-hoax​ @thouarntsage​ @belledawnidk​ @confusedcrayon​ @how2understand​ @harringt8ns​ @sheisaaantisocial​ @brumantrack @real-actual-human-person​ @eddiemunsonsgroupie @hemmings8376​ @darlingbravebelle @defnotgracee​ @fabulouslyflamboyant5  @deamus-liv​ @itsjustsocialimplications​ @deamus-liv​ @itsjustsociallimplications​ @lauren--maex​ @ithinkivegonemad11​ @stclen-sweethearts​ @stuck-in-fictional-worlds @befrwime​ @getbillzoned​ @hazskillerqueen​ @conanbeshifting​ @thereisaplaceintheheart​ @jasmine06blog​ @blancastans​​ @luvrattyhealy @wendyspotatopeeler​​ @oh-caro​ @journey-to-consistency​ @kizzywh​ @ihatemat-tyhealy​ @l0ve-0f-my-life @julezs-bl0g @geeksareunique @eddiemunsonsgroupie @procrastinatinglikeapro @inlovewrobin @houseofdilfs @wh0re4zaynmalik @qtheressurections @hrryshoney @sinarainbows @behindmygreyeyes @oliviahickson @strugglingsophieee

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Calling On You

Wanda Maximoff × Natasha Romanoff x fem!Avenger!reader

Summary: When your ex Natasha calls up needing your help, you come to her rescue like you always have.

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, anxiety/panic attacks, hurt and comfort, thigh riding, N calls R Mistress, R fingers N

A/N: I love this little piece. Also should mention this is hurt/comfort and smutty with a happy ending!

“Hey I know we haven't talked since we broke up, but I'm having a breakdown and I didn't know who else to call…” Nat talked into the phone, the answering machine. “I-” Nat was cut off by the answering machine beeping as she hung up, “I need you…” 

Nat wasn't okay when her head got like this. When everything was quiet except for her thoughts that were overwhelmingly loud about how terrible she was for everything she had done over the years. All the red in her ledger was overwhelming. Natasha Romanoff is not a good person no matter how many good things she had done.

Natasha too wrapped up in her overwhelming thoughts didn't hear you come in as you ran up to her, dropping your bag and cupping the former assassin's cheeks. 

Clearly in the middle of a major depressive episode, her eyes searching yours trying to figure out if you were in fact real.

“...you came…” Natasha whispered.

“You called.” It was a simple response, but one that resonated with Natasha as you pulled back slightly, opening up your arms for her to come crashing into. “I've got you Tasha. I'm not going to let anyone or anything hurt you, including yourself.” Natasha started crying, heaving sobs as she tried to breath properly. “Shhhh it's okay. I'm here. Can you tell me 5 things you can see?” Natasha still sobbing looked around.

“My bookshelf, my TV, your bag, my peanut butter sandwich, you.”

“4 things you can touch?”

“The floor, my shirt, the curtains, you.”

“3 things you can hear?”

“The cars outside, the neighbors TV, your breathing.”

“Two things you can smell?”

“My peanut butter sandwich, your perfume.” Natasha was nervous. The last one you were about to ask Natasha had only ever had one response and you could tell she wasn't sure if it would be okay now.

“One thing you can taste?” Natasha let her eyes flick between your eyes and your lips. You cupped her cheek letting your thumb pad rub her cheek.

“Y-you?” Natasha questioned, but to you it wasn't; it never would be. You leaned in and kissed your ex softly, your strawberry lip gloss getting transferred onto her own dry and cracked lips. You pulled away, leaning your forehead against Natasha's.

“Feel better?” You ask and Tasha nods. “Good now I know exactly what you need.” You stood up, helping Natasha up and putting her back in front of her peanut butter sandwich. “Eat please. I'm going to get everything together.” You kissed her temple before disappearing into the other room. 

Tasha did as told and ate. She heard you shuffling around and then the scent hit her, popcorn, a smile spread on her face. Suddenly she knew what you were doing, a movie night.

The two of you were on the couch watching spy movies, Natasha’s favorites as she recited them word for word during her favorite parts which you always loved to hear. A smile on your lips as you watched her intently. Natasha knew you were watching her, of course she did. She's a trained assassin and spy, but having your eyes on her was always her favorite.

You don’t remember when it happened exactly, but Natasha was now laying on top of you with a blanket covering the two of you on her couch. John Wick forgotten in the background as your eyes closed along with her, running your fingers through her red and blonde locks. 

When the two of you broke up her hair was short and dyed blonde for a new identity she had taken on. One you couldn’t be a part of, that was now two years ago. 

Natasha never decided to cut or re-dye the blonde, but if you were being honest this was one of your favorite looks that the spy has pulled off. 

Natasha ends up falling asleep on you and slowly you move until she’s grumbling, straddling your lap as you smile, “Shhhh milaya devushka.” (sweet girl) you coo as she settles into your body, fitting perfectly like she always did, face buried in your neck. You hook your arms under her thighs, picking her up easily thanks to your super-human strength. 

Flashback

The first time you picked up Natasha she was surprised because you're smaller than her, much smaller. It was something that took her off guard when in the middle of a mission and you guys were ambushed, bullets flying you rushed to her side when one pierced her, picking her up without a second thought, holding her bridal style and yelling over the coms, “Natasha’s been hit, I’m getting her to safety!” Steve gave a quick reply that he could handle things.

You hadn’t been with the group long at that point and at that point besides Fury and Tony no one knew the full extent of your powers. You had told the group of having a stockpile power. The more you got hit the more you could dish back out, but you also had super strength, a speed boost, and super durability along with advanced healing.

“H-how are you doing this!?” Natasha asked as you ran quickly, dodging bullets and knocking out enemies along the way. 

“I have super strength, speed, durability, and healing. Can we discuss this after I’ve gotten you to a safe place?” You ask, getting her in the passenger seat of a car, getting yourself into the driver's seat and peeling off. 

“Fury. Agent Romanoff has been hit. En route to S.H.I.E.L.D’s hospital.” 

“Is Cap and Falcon holding it down?”

“Yes Sir.” 

“Update me in an hour.” 

You did just that as you sat next to Natasha, they pulled the bullet out and stitched her up. “Tasha, you have to be more careful...” you spoke somberly.

“I do what needs to get done for the mission.” She replies.

“Don’t do that with me Tasha. Don’t go cold.”

“You know I’m not trying to be cold, but this is who I am. On missions I only think about that.” Natasha defends herself.

“Tasha...I love you so can you at least try?” The words catch her off guard so much so that she can’t even form words. You put your hand behind her neck leaning your foreheads together. “Please for me Tasha.” you whisper. 

“O-okay...” You let your lips brush hers, waiting for her to reciprocate and when she does you melt into the kiss, into her.

End Flashback

You watched Natasha for a few moments, breathing evened out, lips slightly parted. Your attention is pulled away as your phone vibrates in your pocket, it's your girlfriend. You slip back out to the living room trying not to disturb her, but Natasha is a light sleeper. 

"Hey, Wands. Sorry I rushed out the door earlier," You apologized, trying to keep your voice low.

"Where did you run off to?" Wanda inquired, her concern evident in her tone.

"Tasha called me," You admitted, knowing that honesty was the foundation of your relationship.

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Wanda spoke again. "She hasn't called you since you two broke up. What happened?"

You sighed, explaining the situation to Wanda. "She was having a really bad night. She needed some grounding."

"Will you be coming home tonight?" Wanda asked, her concern shifting to the practicalities of our shared life.

"I don't think so," You replied honestly.

It was quiet for a moment before you decided to be completely transparent. "Wands, I'm going to be honest with you. Natasha and I kissed. It was always a part of grounding her back, and you should know that because I'd never lie to you."

Wanda absorbed the information, and after a thoughtful pause, she asked, "Do you think anything else is going to happen?"

"I don't think so. She's sleeping now. We just had a movie night, watched her spy movies, a little bit of cuddling, but she was tired from her panic attack," you explained.

"Well, if anything does, you have permission," Wanda granted, her trust in our relationship evident.

"You're so cute, Wands. I know you'd want to be here for that," you teased, feeling the warmth of your connection even through the phone.

"S-shut up, Y/N/N. Just enjoy the rest of your night. I'm gonna see what Carol and Val are up to tonight," Wanda chuckled.

"Okay, pretty girl. You have fun too, okay?" You told her.

"Of course. Whatever I end up doing is going to be fun. I love you, Detka," Wanda declared affectionately.

"I love you too, querida,(dear)" you replied before hanging up. 

With a Gatorade in hand, you made your way back to Natasha's room, choosing an old shirt of hers from the closet. The shirt was large on you, but you loved the comfort it brought. Opting to go without pants, you crawled into bed, wrapping your arms around Natasha.

She stirred, her eyes meeting your own in the dim light. "I thought you were asleep, meu amor," you whispered, pushing some hair out of her face and cupping her cheek.

You saw a shiver run through her, and a smile played on your lips as you settled in for the night, grateful for the warmth and connection that surrounded the two of you.

"You're still here..." Tasha whispered, barely audible. 

"Yeah, of course. Wanda called because of how quickly I left the house earlier. She's going to go have some fun with Carol and Val," you explained softly, brushing a strand of hair away from Natasha's face.

Her emerald eyes searched yours, a hint of vulnerability lurking behind their depths. "What about you?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you tightened your hold around her, drawing her closer to you. "I am going to stay right here," you replied, your voice low and reassuring. "And take care of you. Whatever that entails."

You felt her body relax against your own, her warmth seeping into your skin as she nestled closer. But you needed to hear it from her, to know that she wanted this as much as you did.

"So tell me, using those big girl words of yours, what is it you want out of this?" You asked, your voice deepening with desire. You knew the effect your voice had on her. It was a connection that transcended any physical touch, an enchantment that bound the two of you together in a dance of desire and longing.

"What can we do?" Natasha ask. A mischievous grin played on your lips as I watched Natasha's reaction, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at your teasing words.

"Anything, sweetie," You reiterated, your voice low and suggestive. "When I say Wanda's going out with them, I mean it in the dirtiest way that little brain of yours can imagine. Go on, imagine it. I love thinking about it."

You leaned in closer, your breath brushing against her skin as you whispered into her ear, relishing in the way her body squirmed against yours in response to your words. The anticipation crackled between the two of you, igniting a fire that burned with desire and longing.

Natasha's eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and arousal, her mind undoubtedly conjuring up all sorts of illicit fantasies. And as her blush deepened and her breath quickened, you knew that whatever you two decided to do next would be nothing short of exhilarating.

"You wanna know something?" You continued, relishing in the way her body responded to your touch. She nodded eagerly, her lips still caught between her teeth.

"There have been times where Wanda's gone off with Carol and them fucking?" You murmured, watching her reaction with a predatory gleam in your eyes. "It's like two universes clashing, their powers coming undone from each other. It's such a beautiful sight. Val and I love watching them collide like two stars."

As you spoke, Natasha's hips began to move against your leg, seeking friction and release. You smirked, feeling a surge of arousal coursing through you as you continued to explore her body with your hands, each touch reigniting the passion that had always simmered between you two.

"That's a good girl," you whispered, encouraging her to let her fantasies run wild. "Keep thinking about it."

With a hunger that bordered on desperation, you surrendered to the heat of the moment, losing yourself in the sensation of her body against your own. It felt as though no time had passed since you last shared this intimacy, your connection burning brighter than ever before. And as your desires collided like celestial bodies in the night sky, you knew that this moment would be etched into your memory forever.

The intoxicating sounds of pleasure that escaped Natasha's lips only fueled your desire further, igniting a primal hunger within you that demanded to be sated. The knowledge that you had the infamous Black Widow submitting to you, surrendering herself completely, filled you with a sense of power unlike anything else.

With a firm grip on her hip, you let your nails dig into her skin, relishing in the way she responded with a soft mewl of pleasure. "Keep moving your hips, baby," you encouraged, guiding her movements against your leg. "Just like that. I can feel you all over me. Is that from thinking about Wanda and Carol?" you teased, your smirk evident in your voice.

Natasha's breath hitched as she struggled to form a coherent response, her body moving against yours in a rhythm that spoke volumes. But you wouldn't let her off that easily.

"That's not a proper response, sweetie," you chided lightly, your grip on her hip tightening slightly. "What's my name?"

Her hesitation was palpable, but her body continued to move against yours until you intervened, halting her movements with a firm grip. "Answer me," you demanded, your voice laced with authority. "Otherwise, I can leave you like this."

Her eyes snapped open, pupils dilated with desire and anticipation. "Yes, Mistress," she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

A smirk played on your lips as you leaned in, brushing your lips against hers in a feather-light kiss. "Good girl," you whispered against her lips before claiming her mouth in a passionate kiss, your bodies moving together in perfect synchrony.

The sensation of Natasha's body writhing beneath you, her soft moans and desperate pleas echoing in the air, fueled the fire burning within you. With a wicked smile, you continued to dig your nails into her skin, guiding her hips as she rolled against you, her arousal evident in the slickness between her thighs.

"Mmmm, Mistress...need..." she murmured, her voice laced with desire as she surrendered herself to the depths of subspace.

"What do you need, baby girl?" You whispered against her neck, your lips trailing kisses along her skin as you savored the taste of her.

"Need you. Inside. Please, Mistress!" Natasha begged, her desperation palpable as she sought release from the tormenting pleasure that coursed through her veins.

Her words sent a surge of arousal coursing through you, your desire for her growing with each passing moment. With a predatory gleam in your eyes, you withdrew your fingers from her hips and slid them past the waistband of her shorts, reveling in the feeling of her wetness coating your skin.

"Gods, you're soaked, krasivaya devushka,(pretty girl)" you whispered, your voice husky with desire as you teased her folds with feather-light touches. "Tell me, what made you like this?"

Natasha's breath hitched as your fingers danced along her sensitive flesh, eliciting a chorus of gasps and moans from her lips. "Th-thinking about... ah... Wands... and Captain..." she managed to stutter out, her words punctuated by soft gasps of pleasure.

"Good girl," you murmured, your voice thick with lust as you continued to tease her, your fingers delving deeper and deeper until she was on the brink of ecstasy. "Keep thinking about it while I stick my fingers in and make you see stars."

With that, you plunged your fingers inside her, setting off a chain reaction of pleasure that sent her spiraling into the depths of bliss. And as she cried out in ecstasy, her body trembling against yours, you knew that this was just the beginning of a night filled with passion and desire.

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

As you scrambled to cover yourselves at the sound of the front door opening, Wanda walked into Natasha's bedroom with three coffees in hand, a smirk playing on her lips at the sight of us.

"Good morning. Did you two sleep well? Because I was kept up all night," Wanda teased, unfazed by your half-naked state.

She leaned in to give you a kiss, and you couldn't help but chuckle at her comment. "Did you even brush your teeth, you heathen? I can still taste her on you!" You called her out, earning a smirk in response.

"I know you love her taste," Wanda retorted playfully, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Turning to Natasha, you asked if she had any spare toothbrushes, and she directed you to the medicine cabinet. You grabbed the coffees from Wanda, urging her to leave with a playful swat to her backside.

"Go. Now," You commanded, smirking as she yelped in surprise.

"Aww, still sore?" You teased, giving her ass another playful smack before pushing her forward. You could tell that despite her attempts to hide it, Wanda was finding it difficult to walk normally after her own night of passion.

As Wanda made her way out of the bedroom, you turned back to Natasha, a smile playing on your lips as you realized just how lucky you were to have both of these incredible women in your life.

"Do you deal with that everyday?" Natasha asks seeing how cheerful Wanda was in the morning and knowing full well you was never a morning person. 

"Yeah, I deal with that every day," You replied to Natasha's question, observing Wanda's cheerful demeanor in the morning. "But I can tell she had a good time, so it's worth it."

Taking a sip of your lavender oat milk latte, you let out a content hum. "And when she comes home with coffee and breakfast from my favorite place, how can I be upset in the morning?"

Natasha took a sip from her coffee, realizing it was her go-to order. "Did you tell her...?" she asked, curiosity evident in her tone.

"Actually, I told her once, two years ago," You explained, recalling the incident. "I was getting us drinks and accidentally ordered yours out of habit for Wanda, and ended up with an extra drink."

"And she remembered?" Natasha inquired, surprised by Wanda's attention to detail.

"I guess so. It's never been brought up again," you replied with a shrug, impressed by Wanda's ability to remember such small details.

As you finished your conversation about Wanda's thoughtfulness, she made her way back into the bedroom, joining you two on the bed with breakfast in hand.

"I do have breakfast if either of you are up for it," she offered, looking between the two of you with a smile.

"Thank you, babe. You're always so attentive," you praised, watching as Wanda did a cute little wiggle, scrunching up her nose in response. I could see the smile it brought to Natasha's face, and my heart swelled with love for both of them.

"Is this what it would be like? This easy?" Natasha spoke quietly, grabbing a piece of turkey bacon.

"What do you mean, meu amor?" You asked, taking a bite of your bagel.

"This. Us. All three of us. This just feels so easy, like falling into a comfortable bed or couch after a long day," Natasha explained, her words carrying a hint of wonder.

You looked at Wanda and smiled, tilting your head, silently encouraging her to share her thoughts.

'Go on,' you spoke to Wanda telepathically.

"Natasha, this can be whatever you want," Wanda began, her voice soothing and reassuring. "Y/N and I are together, but we would both love to have you join us. If you want that. But you can always just be with Y/N, or you don't even have to define it as a relationship. You can just come and go as you please, and we'll always be willing to let you join in our fun, whether that be one or both of us."

Wanda's words held a comforting warmth, a sense of safety that enveloped Natasha like a protective embrace. Her ability to convey reassurance was remarkable, and you could see the impact it had on Natasha, who seemed to be considering the possibilities laid out before her.

As Wanda spoke, her words filled the room with a mix of vulnerability and sincerity. Your heart swelled with emotion as she confessed her feelings for both Natasha and you, recounting the cherished memories you shared during our movie nights and bonding moments.

"But what I'm trying to say, really, is through the little moments the three of us used to share, I ended up falling for both of you," Wanda continued, her accent thickening with emotion. You couldn't help but feel a lump form in your throat as she spoke.

"When Y/N told me about why you two broke up and how she still had feelings, I ended up spilling my own to her about you as well," Wanda confessed, tears prickling the corners of her eyes. "We talked it over for a long time and decided you would be the only actual fit to keep in our dynamic because we already had it before."

As Natasha set down her breakfast, wiping her hands on the sweatpants the two of you had managed to grab for her, her expression was a mix of surprise and tentative hope.

"I... I would... I'd like that... the three of us again," Natasha managed to say, her voice filled with emotion.

Without hesitation, Wanda and you both moved to entangle yourselves with Natasha, enveloping her in a tight embrace. In that moment, it felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders, and you knew that together, the three of you could navigate whatever challenges lay ahead.

"Eu amo vocês dois,(I love you both)" you mumbled against Natasha's shoulder, feeling the weight of your shared love in the air.

"Я тоже тебя люблю,(I love you too)" both Natasha and Wanda responded simultaneously, their voices filled with affection and warmth.

"I already have both of you conditioned so well. My good little baby," you remarked with a playful smirk, cupping Natasha's cheek tenderly before turning to Wanda and doing the same. "And my good little pet."

You leaned in to kiss Wanda's lips first, savoring the softness and warmth before turning to Natasha and pressing your lips against hers. In that moment, surrounded by the love of these two incredible women, you felt a sense of completeness wash over your body.

"My two beautiful girls. Mine, all mine," you whispered, sealing your bond with a promise of love and devotion. And as you embraced each other, you knew that together, the three of you were unstoppable.

[saffusthings]

You're Everything I Need (and More)

oscar piastri x personal assistant!reader

summary: the one where they deal with the aftermath word count: 10.6k (…sorry?) warnings: descriptions and talks of abuse, trauma, disassociation, other abuse aftermath, please don't read if any of this stuff is not the vibe, some gore, being threatened by a weapon, whump, poorly edited writing a/n: comments/feedback would be much appreciated! and let me if like it, bc i have some ideas for a mini-series

Part 1

Oscar thinks he must be imagining the way her breathing begins to quicken and she starts to shift, tossing and turning in on the bed. He freezes instantly when he feels her start to squirm beside him- not knowing what to do, whether to move or to pull her closer. 

But then she lets out a small noise that sounds eerily like a whimper, and his entire body jolts with panic. Her eyebrows are pinched together - her face is a picture of distress, her body still squirming and shifting restlessly.

He’s half-concerned she’s in pain, half-thinking she’s having a nightmare, and he’s suddenly desperate to figure out which one it is so he can stop it. 

“Hey,” he calls, trying to make his voice sharp and loud enough to wake her up but gentle enough not to scare her. “Wake up. Wake up, it's just a dream-“

She mutters in her sleep, her breathing picking up. “Please don’t- Stop, stop-”

“Wake up,” he says again, his heart racing, begging her to wake up so she can stop reliving it. “Wake up - you’re dreaming, it’s not real, c’mon-“

Her eyes fly open, wild and frenzied. Her breaths come in short, quick bursts as she relies on her instincts and uses them to put as much distance between her and the voice emanating from the dark abyss. She rapidly shuffles away from him, ignoring the pain that screams at her from various parts of her body as she does everything to get away from her parents’ wrath.

They’re going to kill her.

She flails away from the figure in the dark, moving her limbs rapidly with only survival at the forefront of her mind. Scrambling to get up, she ends up backed up against the wall, wielding the switchblade she always keeps around defensively.

For a split second, Oscar’s completely frozen. 

“Hey,” he tries in the calmest tone he can muster, raising a tentative, open palms slowly. “Hey, hey it’s okay. It’s me, you’re safe, you’re okay-“

“Stop it!” she shouts defensively, pleading. Her chest heaves with each breath. “Jus- Just stop, don’t do this, don’t touch me-“

Oscar freezes again, his face falling in worry. He keeps his hands up, his heart racing as he scans over her. She’s terrified, he thinks, taking in her shaking figure, her hands clutching a knife, her eyes locked onto him like he was a threat. 

“No- no, I won’t touch you,” he assures quickly. “I won’t touch you, I’m not gonna touch you, I promise. Just- just breathe, alright?”

Her eyes look around frantically, trying to make sense of things. He’s starting to panic now - she’s still completely lost in her nightmare, still terrified, and every time she looks at him, he’s sure he can see a flicker of fear in her eyes. 

Fear of him. 

“I’m not gonna touch you,” he says again, his voice still as gentle as he can get it. “Look at me. Just look. It’s me, I’m here, I’m- I’m not gonna hurt you, I swear on my life-“

“Listen to my voice,” he coaxes again, his tone even. “Just listen to me. Concentrate on it. Listen to me, and look at me, and tell me who I am.” 

He knows he has to get her to recognize him. He knows it’s the fastest way to get her grounded, to get her back to reality.

“I…” her brows furrow, her heart beating wildly. “I- W…Oscar?W”

“Okay, that’s good,” he murmurs, taking another step closer to her. “That’s good, you’re doing good, listen to me, alright darling? You’re doing good.”

He’s still afraid that she’s going to flinch away from him - that at any second, she’ll realize that she’s trapped against the wall, and start squirming to get away from him again.

“Look at me,” he demands again, more forcefully this time, desperate to get her to open her eyes, to look at him. “Look at me, darling, please.”

She wrings her body from his touch like it burned. “Don’t touch me-“

Immediately, her knife hand is ready, pointing the small weapon.

“I’m not going to,” he responds instantly, his hands flying up in a gesture of surrender. He was not expecting that. He’d only meant to hold her face - keep her gaze on his - but she’d flinched away and was now pointing a knife at his goddamn chest.

And suddenly, he’s terrified. 

Not for himself - he’s never scared of her, and he knows rationally that she won’t stab him. He’s terrified that she’s gone back to that state of complete panic, and that if he tries to move, she’ll hurt herself.

He keeps his voice soft and quiet, slowly moving his hand towards the one holding the knife. 

“Give me the knife, yeah?” He begins, watching her eyes closely for an indication of her reaction. “Can you do that for me?”

“No, no, no-“ she mumbles, clenching her eyes shut momentarily. “It’s- It’s mine.”

Her arm instinctively moves closer to her, causing her to bend her elbow and weaken her stance. She doesn’t seem to notice, with the perceived threat to the only defense she has.

Tears stream down her face in frustration. She’s so scared, her heart is thudding and she’s only scaring herself more. God, and Oscar is being so patient and collected about this but she can’t seem to fucking calm down-

It breaks his goddamn heart to see her like this. But he has to act quickly, he knows it’s the only way this is going to work. There’s no way she’ll give him the knife - she thinks it’s the only protection against him, against whatever she’s facing. 

Which means he has to overpower her to get her to release the weapon.

God- he hates it. 

He never ever wants to use any kind of force on her. She’s fragile enough as it is without having to use force on her, but she’s not going to put that knife down on her own. She’s terrified and in panic mode, and the only way to get her grounded is to get her to let the damn weapon go.

He’s going to hate himself for this later, even more than he already does, but he has to.

His hands slowly go up in the air again, pretending to surrender. “Okay, okay,” he says, trying to keep his voice level. “Okay, I won’t take it. Is that better?”

Face wet with tears, she nods weakly. Her mind is a whirlwind - a messy storm of relief that he won’t take her knife away, and confusion as to why she feels horrible about it.

He feels a small sense of relief at her nod, but she still doesn’t lower the weapon in her hand, still pointing it at him warily. With his hands still held carefully in the air, he begins to move a lot slower and with careful, methodical steps towards her. 

She’s watching him like a hawk, still pointing the knife at him, but her body seems to have lost some of its tension.

He can see her trembling, her eyes glistening with tears, and he mentally curses himself for the hundredth time for not being able to protect her from the hell that she calls home. He slowly advances, his steps measured and deliberate. He’s close enough to her now, close enough to see the tears staining her face. 

With him so close now, Y/N is able to see him better in the darkness of the room.  His hair is still mussed up from sleep, his eyes… still familiar and inviting. 

Oscar has always had the kind of face that makes you feel like you could talk to him about anything, go to him any time and still feel comfortable. He has a kind face, and certainly a personality to match.

It’s this familiarity and coolness that she recognizes in his eyes now.

The hand holding the switchblade drops marginally in the air, her stance less taut.

A breath escapes him when he sees her hand start to drop, her stance loosening. 

It’s working- it’s working. He’s doing something right, thank god. 

He takes one more slow step towards her, close enough now to reach out and touch her.

“Oscar,” she breathes shakily in recognition. His familiar silhouette feels like hope in light of the violent thumping in her chest, the panic that’s been coursing through her veins.

She may be afraid - but Oscar’s here.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, an alarm bell is going off at the fact that Oscar is so close - why is he so close? 

But it’s difficult for her to focus on that when there’s a knife in her hand and there's people that will make sure that she suffers. So the only thing she seems to register at the moment beside her panicked frenzy is that Oscar is here.

He watches her eyes flit between his face and the knife in her hand, her mind clearly struggling with the confusion of it all. He hates having to do this, really and truly hates that he has to be yet another person in her life forcing her to do something she doesn’t want to. 

But it doesn’t change the fact that it has to be done. 

His heart breaks at her words, but he reaches out and grips her wrist, forcing her hand to release the knife before she hurts herself or him.

“Osc-” she yelps in surprise, caught off guard. But before she can finish the word, his hand clamps firmly around her hand holding the switchblade. Fingers wrap themselves around her wrist, forming a circle and applying more and more pressure until the muscles there have no choice but to release the grip she has on the knife.

In an instant, Oscar scoops the fallen knife on the sheets beside them and pockets it for the time being. 

“Look at me,” he says, his voice rough. “Just look at me.”

He’s ready to pin her the wall and hold her there until she calms down so she won’t flail or fight back or-

Instead, he’s completely caught off guard. It’s like a switch flips the second the knife drops out of her hands. 

All the fear that had been hammering against her chest takes the form of a choked out sob. Warm tears roll down her face as every muscle in her body gives out at once - whether in fear or relief or exhaustion, it isn’t clear. Maybe all of the above.

Completely spent and still trembling with sobs, she collapses straight into his arms.

As soon as she collapses, his arms go around her, pulling her tighter against him in a firm and protective embrace. He holds her against him, his hands rubbing soothingly up and down her back, making soft shushing noises to try and soothe her.

“You’re okay,” he mutters, his lips right beside her ear. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

She babbles words about how scared she was and how sorry she is over and over again, most of it practically incoherent.

Her body falls against his as she allows herself to be enveloped in the warm embrace of Oscar’s strong arms.

All he can do is hold her tight, listening to her mumbles and trying to decipher which of them are apologies and which ones are something else. He can feel the dampness of her tears against the skin of his neck and the warmth of her body against his bare chest, and he curses himself internally once again for not being able to protect her sooner.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says quietly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back in an attempt to soothe her. “You don’t- you don’t have anything to apologize for, okay? None of this is your fault, absolutely none.”

“I’m so sorry, I almost hurt you, M’so sorry, I was just scared,” she mumbles into his chest. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong me, I’m so sorry–”

“Shhh,” he mutters, shaking his head against her hair, his hand still rubbing up and down her back. 

“Don’t worry about it, okay? I’m not hurt. I’m fine, I’m right here.” 

Even though her eyes are red-rimmed and tearstained and the bruise on her collarbone is almost taunting him, she’s still the most beautiful girl in the world. 

He takes a deep breath before asking a question. “Is this something that’s happened before?”

She takes a deep breath before answering. “Well I’ve had nightmares sometimes, I guess,” she explains. They happen often, actually. 

“But this one was…” she struggles to find the right word, so she settles for, “…different.”

His hands reach out, tracing a soothing pattern against the small of her back. “Can you explain it? The nightmare?”

“I…” her voice shakes.

“Hey, hey,” he says softly, holding her tighter against him. “Don’t force it if you’re not ready, okay? I’m pressuring you to answer, I just-“

He stops himself, taking a deep breath. “I’m just trying to understand what happened. That’s all.”

She nods in understanding. Her fingers find him, playing with them to have something to do with her hands as she tries to keep her voice level.

“It’s a memory, really…” she trails off. “Of tonight. When they…”

He’s not sure whether he wants her to keep going. He can already tell whatever she’s about to say isn’t going to be something easy to hear. 

But she’s talking now, and he isn’t about to stop that, not when she needs to actually talk through this kind of stuff. She’s been keeping this bottled up for god knows how long, and now is the time to get the words out.

“When they were… more angry than usual,” she says, wording it as delicately as she can. “They were unhappy with how much I’d been away for work, too busy to be home for them.”

Her voice shakes just a bit when she tells him, “When they didn’t kill me, I guess they tried to beat it out of me.

He can’t help it this time - his grip tightens around her at her words, the muscles in his jaw clenching when he hears them. 

“Y/N,” he says gently, still rubbing her back slowly, still trying to coax out the words, “when you say angry, what do you mean by that? How often do they…?”

He knows the answer already.

She’s quiet for a long while, her eyelashes fluttering rapidly against her cheeks as she tries to keep a new set of tears from falling. Then she starts to talk again, her words a soft mumble against his skin.

“More often than just tonight,” she confesses. It’s the best answer she can really give him.

He knew it. 

He takes a deep breath, doing everything he can to maintain a neutral expression on his face. The last thing she needs right now is him doing something to send her spiraling again. So instead he just holds her tight, listening to her speak and running a hand soothingly through her hair.

He has to fight to keep his voice steady when he asks the next question. “Those other times… was tonight the worst so far?”

“Yeah.”

His grip on her tightens just a fraction, his heart clenching at the one-word answer. 

God, he just wants to protect her. He wants to wrap her up in his arms and never let go - shield her from anyone and everyone trying to hurt her ever again because nobody deserves any of it. And more than that, he hates the fact that there isn’t anything he can do.

“I’m sorry, Oscar,” she hiccups. “I- Fuck… l had a fucking knife pointed at you, god-“

“Don’t be sorry,” he says forcefully. “You were scared, it was a- a defense reaction. Don’t apologize for something like that.”

His fingers reach up, gently tilting her chin up towards him.

“And don’t worry about me. I’m fine, I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

She curls in closer against his chest, almost as if eliminating the space between means both of them would fuse into one with sheer force of will. A weak hand comes up, sleeve pulled up and over her knuckles, to gently hold the side of his face, tilting it toward her.

His eyes flutter closed at the gesture, and he can’t help but lean into the touch. She’s touching him, in the softest, gentlest way possible, but she’s touching his face and somehow it feels like home. 

His own hand reaches up to grip her wrist, and he gently presses a kiss against her palm.

“I could never bring myself to hurt you,” she whispers, but the look in her eyes suggests she’s not even aware that she spoke that thought aloud.

“I’d never want to hurt you. You know that, right? I’d never forgive myself if I did.”

The raw sincerity in her voice actually makes his heart ache a little, and he has to take a deep breath so his voice doesn’t break. He leans his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed.

“I know,” he reassures her. “I never thought for a second that you’d hurt me. I know that you’d never hurt me, okay?”

“Do you really believe that?”

He scoffs a little at the question, shaking his head.

“Of course I do,” he affirms. “One-thousand percent. I trust you more than anyone, I promise you. You’re not going to hurt me.”

“You don’t think I’m some kind of… like, monster?” she asks, dubious.

His expression falls, his jaw clenching again.

“No, no, never,” he murmurs. “Of course I don’t think you’re a monster. You’re the farthest from a monster.”

His thumb gently traces a soothing pattern against the outside of her thigh. “Please tell me you don’t believe that.”

She shrugs. “I’m messed up - unstable. I could have really hurt you tonight.”

“You’re not messed up, you’re not unstable, and you can’t use a traumatic experience, that you had absolutely no control over, as any gauge of what you ‘could’ have done to me,” he argues, his voice firm. 

“You didn’t hurt me, you wouldn’t have hurt me,” he tells her with complete conviction. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.” The words slip out of her mouth before she can even think about it.

He lets out a breath when he hears her answer, his eyes opening and taking a long, quiet minute just to look at her - taking in the bruise on her collarbone and her split lip, along with the cuts and scratches against her arm. 

He gently brushes a hand over the bruise on her collarbone, his touch feather-like and soft.

“Jesus,” he exhales. “They really did a number on you.”

His finger reaches up to gently brush over her split lip.

She doesn’t know what to say to that, so she simply shrugs, content with tracing mindless patterns against his sternum and across his chest.

He falls quiet after that, and for a long while - the only sounds filling the room being their breathing, and distant whir of the ceiling fan. Then he speaks, his voice so soft it’s almost a whisper.  “Let me take care of you, please.”

“Hmm?”

His hands reach out to gently cup the sides of her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

He tilts her chin up, gently forcing her to meet his gaze.

“You’ve had to take care of yourself for god knows how long, and I get it if you think you’re used to doing everything on your own… but you don’t…” he swallows, his eyes searching her face. “You don’t have to do it alone, okay? Let me take care of you, just a little.”

She just looks at him.

She looks at the genuine earnestness in his eyes, the bags under his eyes from not getting enough sleep tonight. She feels his heart thudding in his chest where her head is leaning against it. She breathes and is immediately met with the scent of him. His eyes are dark brown - they’re warm like honey and have flecks of caramel in them that remind her of the way kindness feels.

She wants to believe him.

He watches her look at him, the expression on her face an unreadable mixture of emotions - he can see a hint of fear and a hint of guilt and a hint of confusion and a hint of hope, all swirling around in her gaze. 

She’s just too damn scared to do it. She settles for murmuring, “You already do, Oscar. More than you know.”

He can’t resist the soft smile that immediately emerges at her words. 

He doesn’t say anything - doesn’t tell her how many times he’s seen her favorite tea or candy or snack at a gas station and had a small internal debate over grabbing it, and how many times his hand subconsciously ends up reaching for it anyway.

He doesn’t tell her how many times his brain instantly goes to her when he’s working on something that’s giving him a difficult time to solve because he knows she’ll see something he missed.

He doesn’t tell her that he looks forward to the times she randomly texts him an image of a bird or a duck or some other critter with a “hey look at this” caption because it always makes him smile. 

He doesn’t tell her how much he enjoys taking care of her, how much he’s glad to be able to do it. 

All he does is brush a strand of hair away from her face and murmur a soft yeah in agreement.

She hums softly. “Think we can still catch some sleep tonight?”

He hums, considering the question for a moment. His eyes glance at the clock on the dresser - 4:37am. 

He honestly doubts that he could fall back asleep so quickly after everything that’s happened tonight, and he’d be surprised if she could too. If they’re going to be kept awake anyway, he has other ideas about what they could do that’s more entertaining than staring at the ceiling.

“Osc? Y’there?” she mumbles. 

He immediately snaps back into the moment at the sound of her voice. 

“Y-yeah, I’m here,” he assures her, a hint of guilt present because he didn’t respond right away. “I’m here, I’m here,” he repeats, his arms instinctively pulling her flush against his body.

“Sleep?” she prompts softly, reminding him of her question she was waiting for him to respond to. He hums in agreement - not because he thinks they actually WilloW, but he’s willing to give it a try, at least. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, his hand coming up to brush her hair back. “Yeah, let’s sleep.”

“Could…”

He’s just about to close his eyes when he hears her speak, his eyes snapping open again. He turns his head to look down at her, waiting for her to continue what she was going to say.

“Could I lay my head on your chest?” she asks, except the words are mumbled so fast that they’re barely understandable.

He swallows hard before responding, his heart rate increasing when she makes the request. 

He nods quickly. 

“Yeah-” he affirms. “Yeah, of course-”

He’s in the middle of repositioning himself - so he’s laying on his back - when he realizes that she’s not moving. He pauses, looking down at her still curled against his side, and silently gestures for her to move.

When she still doesn’t move, he gently pulls her up - coaxing her body to move across his and come settle against his chest. 

She hums contentedly once they’re settled in - not unlike the manner in which a cat purrs upon finding a comfortable patch of sunlight to curl up in. He wants to laugh at the comparison because it’s both accurate and hilarious. 

He doesn’t, though - he just smiles and buries his nose into her hair as she gets comfortable, inhaling the scent of her and taking in the feel of her warmth against his chest.

“G’night, Osc,” she manages to mumble, before the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulls her into finally falling asleep.

It takes him a few minutes after she falls asleep to actually relax. 

Oscar finds he can’t stop thinking - about the injuries on her body, about her parents, about the past few hours. He’s too wired to actually sleep, but he also finds that he’s not in a hurry to fall asleep, either. He’s much more invested in the feeling of her head against his chest, of her body in his arms, of her warmth against him.

Sleep isn’t something that comes easily to him when he’s already overstimulated and anxious.  In fact, it’s something he has to work at - even when he’s not feeling anxious - by doing a breathing technique or counting backwards to make his brain stop so he can sleep. But he finds that right now, with her body wrapped around him so perfectly - he feels his eyes drifting closed against his will, and his muscles relaxing like he’d just gotten out of a hot tub. 

He gives in to the feeling, and slowly slips into a peaceful sleep.

When he finally starts to stir awake the next morning, he’s met with the sunlight peeking in from around the curtains, and a lack of a body against his chest. 

He blinks and turns his head to look for the girl, only to find the bed empty and his heart rate immediately picking up in panic. He shoots up - ignoring the brief dizzy spell he gets from moving too quickly - before throwing the covers off of him and rushing toward the bathroom - desperate to confirm for himself that she’s still here.

Instead, he's caught off guard by the smell of coffee brewing. Huh?

The sound of the coffee machine stops his panic momentarily, causing his movements to halt as he listens to the steady stream of liquid rushing into the pot. 

He’s silent for a few seconds before he starts moving again, his legs carrying him out of the bedroom and toward the kitchen. 

He stops in the entryway, leaning against the doorframe when he finally lays eyes on her. She’s standing in the kitchen in front of the coffee machine, her body still clad in that damn hoodie. 

He can’t help the wave of relief that washes over him when he sees her and realizes that she’s fine - she’s here, and she’s okay, and she didn’t leave.

"Good morning," she greets softly once she notices he's there.

He can’t help the small smile that immediately appears on his face. He knows it’s a stupid thing to get happy over - it’s just a regular greeting after all - but he hasn’t heard her voice in a few hours and he’s honestly missed it. 

“Morning,” he greets, his eyes drifting over the counter - which is a scene of organized chaos - trying to see what exactly she’s doing.

"I, um, made coffee," she says, gesturing to the general area of the counter. She's made herself iced coffee using the ice from the fridge, and she's prepared a traveler's cup for him as well - exactly the way he likes. Two years of being the one to pick up his coffee order every time means she has it memorized, probably better than her own.

The idea that she knew exactly how he takes his coffee - down to how much cream and sugar he prefers - makes something stir in his chest, an almost giddy feeling that makes it feel like something erratic is happening to him. 

He pushes the feeling down, though, and his eyes instead focus on the counter - taking in the traveler cup in front of him.

“You didn’t have to,” he mutters, pushing himself off the doorway and stepping further into the kitchen. 

"Figured I gave you enough trouble last night," she mumbles, embarrassed. "S'the least I could do."

He hates when she does that - turns a situation that’s not even remotely her fault and turns it into something that she feels guilty for. 

“You did no such thing,” he says quietly, his voice firm but his eyes gentle, making sure she knows that he genuinely means his words. She chuckles at his answer, before cleaning up the setup she’d used to make the coffees.

“Well, I’m gonna go ahead and figure out what the hell I can wear to work today,” she smiles at him, but it’s tinged with sadness. 

“Because we have… “ she glances at his wall clock. “About an hour before we’re both supposed to be at MTC.”

He opens his mouth to say something - anything - but he’s at a complete loss for what to say. 

Eventually, he just settles for a quiet, “Right.”

“You’re thinking so hard I can practically hear the gears turning,” she deadpans before taking a sip of her iced coffee. Her words cause the corner of his mouth to lift up at the familiarity - the sarcastic sass that’s been such a staple of their relationship for the past two years. 

“Stop being a smartass,” he counters, trying to go for his usual playful banter but ending up at fond instead.

“Only when you stop being a dumbass,” she quips.

This time, she does make him chuckle  - a gentle, low sound that’s filled with fondness. His heart settles when she starts acting like normal again - if her normal self isn’t completely present, her teasing will have to suffice. 

Once he’s finished taking another sip of his coffee, he finally starts to say what he’s been thinking since she sat down, “You know we’ve gotta talk about last night, right?”

She stills. 

“What do you mean?”

He’d been trying to ignore it - and she was acting like her normal sassy self now - but it needs to be addressed. He reaches out and places a careful hand against her arm - his fingertips barely grazing her covered wrist before he stops himself and pulls his hand back.

“Your parents. That needs to be discussed. They need to be reported to the police - you understand that, right?”

“Oscar,” she says, with a tone so cold and final that he’s having a hard time fathoming that it was even coming from her. “Don’t.”

His eyes widen, his mouth opening in disbelief. She can’t possibly be suggesting what he thinks she’s suggesting. He’d thought it was just some kind of weird denial she was living in - not that she was actually going to let her parents get away with hurting her like this. 

He can’t help the anger that’s boiling to the surface, his voice raised as he speaks, his hands clenched into fists. "What? You’re seriously actually suggesting that you don’t want to press charges!? Are you crazy?”

She shoots him a look so sharp that he immediately feels guilty for using the word. He stops himself, his face softening when he realizes just how badly he’s stepped out of line.

He’s being insensitive - not to her but to the situation - and he needs to remember that. His eyes immediately soften, his stance opening as if to let her in.

His words come out quiet, but tinged with desperation nonetheless.

“I can’t just let them do that, okay? You can’t expect me to stand by and watch that happen to you and do nothing about it!”

“You can’t.”

He takes a breath, trying to control the growing frustration he feels. He grits his teeth, letting out a slow breath before trying again. In a calm tone, he says, “I won't, if that's what you want. But can I at least ask you why you don't want to do anything about it?”

Her gaze lowers, looking anywhere but at him. 

“Because I can’t,” she admits quietly.

When her gaze lowers away from him, he feels his heart clenching in his chest again. His fingers reach out for her chin, tilting it up so she'll look at him. His voice is still gentle as he asks, “Why not?”

“They…” she hesitates. “They have something I care about.”

His eyebrows furrow, his head tilting in response to her words. 

What could her parents of all people have that she could care about enough to justify them beating her?

And this is a step - an open door - that he needs to push. 

“What do they have, darling?”

“My brothers.”

His eyes widen again, shocked to hear that her brothers are somehow mixed up in this twisted arrangement. His voice is full of disbelief and confusion when he says, “Your brothers? What could your parents have that that could have possibly caused you-“

He hesitates, trying to find the right words to say what he means.

“I don't understand, Y/N. None of this makes sense. How can they- I just don't get it.”

“They take care of my brothers. If I have them prosecuted, I’d be taking my chances that a court would grant me guardianship over them, instead of them just becoming victims of the foster care system,” she explains quietly. “Even as an assistant at McLaren, I don’t make enough to give them the life they deserve - to pay for 2 more people's clothes, food, education and everything else they need.”

It’s out in the open now. She’s never felt like more of a coward in her life than when she confesses, “I need my parents to take care of them because I can’t.”

God, how is she supposed to look him in the eyes after this?

He can sense the shame radiating off of her in waves, and he hates it. She shouldn't have to be the one bearing the burden for her family, while suffering for it as well. 

She deserves better. 

His face softens, and he gently takes her hands in his, his fingers delicately tracing tiny circles across the inside of her wrist - trying to provide some sort of soothing.

She’s caught off guard by the gesture. She’s not entirely sure what reaction she was expecting, but it wasn’t that.

It hurts him to know that she was expecting a different reaction out of him than kindness and gentle understanding. But he pushes that feeling down, and focuses on being there, and being in this moment with her. He keeps his eyes locked on hers, his thumb tracing gentle circles against the sensitive skin of her wrist.

“Say something,” she pleads softly, daring to look at him.

For a minute, he just looks at her - looks at the emotion in her eyes, looks at the uncertainty, looks at what she’s feeling but can't seem to be able to put into words. 

But he realizes that maybe there isn't anything that needs to be said right now. Not right now, when they're just sitting in this still silence. 

He leans down, and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"We're about to be late for work," she deadpans.

He lets out a short, warm chuckle. There we go.

It was the slightest hint of her normal, genuine smile, but it's a start nonetheless. He shrugs in response to her, reaching over to pick up his coffee with his free hand. 

"The day can wait," he replies, taking a sip of the warm, aromatic liquid.

“Maybe for you, Mr. Formula One star,” she mumbles absentmindedly as she pulls out her phone. She needs to find some place to pick up business casual clothes in the next 10 minutes or before she’s screwed for work today. Her clothes from last have blood in them, and she certainly can’t very well wear the pajamas she’d borrowed from Oscar for sleeping into the office. She pulls her phone out, and immediately, he's got another idea. 

He turns his body to face her, a smirk playing on his lips.

“How do you feel about a little shopping spree, Miss Assistant?” he asks slyly, an eyebrow cocked and his voice teasing. 

He's just got it all mapped out in his head - just a quick trip into town to pick up a few essentials and then getting back to MTC all in time for work.

“Huh?” she says not even looking up from her phone. Now where is the nearest Burlington?

He tries to suppress the laugh that threatens to bubble out of his chest at her words. There's just something so completely normal and casual about the fact that she's so nonchalant about being offered to go on what would likely be a £500- £1500 shopping spree. He raises an eyebrow, looking down at her and realizing he'll have to get her attention before she can even hear what he's saying. "Hello? Earth to Assistant - I'm trying to talk to you over here."

She looks up like she’s been caught. “Sorry, I was just-“

He grins, glad to have her attention, even temporarily. "Trying to google Primark? Or TJ Maxx?" 

He snorts, shaking his head at her, "I think we can do better than that, young padawan."

“What? No, I-“

"What?" he challenges. "Trying to find the cheapest department store in a five mile radius or something?"

She blushes, embarrassed. “No…”

He rolls his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips at seeing her reaction. "I would almost feel insulted if you weren't so damn cute when you're embarrassed." 

He looks her up and down, taking in her outfit - or rather, her lack of an outfit. 

"You need more than my hoodie and a pair of sweatpants to go into work, Y/N. I'll need to get you some jeans and a few tops-"

She immediately shoots down WthatW idea. “Look, I just need to get an outfit to get through today. I don’t exactly have a place to keep them or the budget, so it’d really be a waste of-“

The mention of money has him sighing again, his eyes rolling. She's so hellbent on trying to not let him spend anything on her - it's almost irritating. 

He shakes his head, his eyes boring into hers, his voice serious. "I'm paying, okay? So you can just shove that argument right back up your ass, okay? I've got money, let me spend it. It's not like I have anything else to spend it on anyway."

“Oscar, you can’t - plus, it’s not like I have my own place to keep a bunch of stuff. All I need is the one outfit, really. I’m thinking of checking out one of the spare rooms in Hospitality, and I could probably keep my spare things there.”

He takes a deep sigh at her explanation - her reasoning is just so bloody selfless. 

He knows how the spare rooms in Hospitality work - they're basically just tiny makeshift offices. And she has this thought about moving into them?

He takes another deep breath, trying to calm himself down, but the thought that this is what she's gotten down to is a hard pill to swallow. The anger wells up within him again - at her parents, at the system, at the world for being so un-fucking-fair.

"Look," he says, his voice hard, "I'm not letting you sleep in one of the bloody spare rooms when there's a perfectly good room in my place. You're not doing that bullshit, alright? It's not up for discussion."

"Okay, Oscar. Sure," she says resignedly. She doesn't have the energy to do this right now. She's... tired.

Surely they can go back and forth about this some other time. Right now, she's just trying to make it to work - she can't risk what feels like the only thing she has going for her at the moment.

He hears her agreement, and her tone, and it takes every little ounce of self-control that he has to not get even more frustrated with the situation. He forces himself to take a deep breath, giving her a nod. He can't force her to take him up on his offer - he understands what her pride means - but it's really not going to make life easy for him. 

He leans his elbow against the wall, his eyes meeting hers. 

"Fine. I will get you the essentials today then. That is something we agree on, right?"

He gives her a look that basically demands she agree with him. This is going to be non-negotiable. She's going to have at least five changes of clothes and necessities like razors and toothpaste at his apartment by the end of the day - period.

Whatever, she thinks to herself. She gives him a polite smile, before turning around to go.

"Hey-" his hand shoots out to grab her wrist gently, his touch just enough to stop her from leaving. 

"Hey," he repeats softly, his tone softer with the contact. 

When she finally turns to look at him, his eyes are soft, his thumb gently brushing over the sensitive inside of her wrist. He's going to give her a little bit of space right now - a little time to breathe, and then he'll give her another chance.

“Hey,” she repeats, giving him a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

He pulls her in closer to him gently. 

"We... We're okay, right?" he asks quietly. 

Because this isn't how he wants things to be right now. He just wants her to give him a chance - to at least accept that he's trying to help her - that he's trying to make her life just a little bit easier. 

He brings up a hand, gently brushing back the strands of hair that have fallen across her face. His voice is soft when he speaks again. "Right?"

“Of course.”

He wants to ask her more questions. Are you upset? Are you okay? Do you need space?

But he doesn't want to push right now. 

He brings up his other hand to brush across the small bruises adorning her neck. His voice drops even lower when he asks, "Can I have a kiss?"

Maybe if he keeps things normal - maybe if he lets them just be them - she'll start to open up the way he wants her to.

She presses a soft kiss against his cheek, before pulling away. This time, the smile on her face feels the slightest bit more real. This side of Oscar seems to have that effect on her.

He wants to reach out and kiss her again - really kiss her and make her realize the way he feels about her - but he restrains himself from doing it. He's going to let her call the shots for now, let her decide what she wants this to be like. 

But that doesn't mean he can't tease just a little bit. 

He cocks an eyebrow at her gesture, letting out a soft snort. "If you're going to aim that low, I'll have to start bending down," he teases.

She rolls her eyes affectionately, and then glances at the time on the wall. “We should get going, yeah?” she asks softly.

He turns his head to follow her gaze to where she's looking at the wall clock, and finally nods. "Yeah. You're right."

He leans in to press a feather-light kiss to her jaw. "I gotta go change real quick, okay?"

“Of course. I’ll be waiting at the door when you’re ready,” she hums.

He gives her one more look - just to reassure himself that things are still okay- and nods, making his way toward his bedroom. He changes into a blue sweatshirt and a pair of jeans in record time, grabbing his wallet, phone and keys before making his way back downstairs to meet her by the door.

“…Oscar?”

He raises an eyebrow as he pulls his shoes on when he hears her call his name. "Yeah?" he responds, finishing tying his laces before standing up straight, his eyes finding hers.

“You… feelin’ okay?”

He blinks, looking at her oddly for a moment while his brain tries to process the completely out of left field question. 

Finally, a soft chuckle leaves his mouth. 

"Why do you ask?" he teases, cocking an eyebrow. "See something you like?"

“Osc…” she trails off, trying to find the nicest way to say this. “Today is FP1.”

When he blinks at her, she continues, gesturing to his outfit. “You’re supposed to arrive wearing the team kit?” she reminds.

He stares at her blankly for a few seconds - trying to come up with any excuse he can - before ultimately giving up and letting out a long sigh. 

"God-" he grumbles, pulling his shoes off his feet again. "Well, you've been doing things to my brain lately, okay? How do you expect me to remember normal human things?"

“It’s what I’m here for,” she says with a roll of her eyes. Technically, she’s right. “Now go change.”

He takes the reprimand with an exasperated roll of his eyes, turning on his heel and muttering something about her being bossy before heading back upstairs. Not five minutes later, he's heading back downstairs in his team kit, wearing a slightly disgruntled look on his face.

“Okay Grumpy, let’s get this show on the road. You good to go?” she asks, checking in to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything else.

He's never been a morning person - and this morning seems to be the worst of all - so his reaction is more disgruntled than normal. He shoves his wallet in his pockets before raising an eyebrow at her. "What do you think?" he counters sarcastically.

“Ouch,” she remarks, wincing emphatically, lips pressed together into a straight line. “Got it.”

He lets out another sigh, shaking his head. He's a grumpy idiot in the mornings, but he can't help it. God knows he's not a morning person. 

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I'm just tired." 

He reaches out a hand, taking her hand gently. 

"But we've got a day full of work ahead of us. So come on," he says, tugging her toward the door softly. "Let's get going."

He closes the front door softly behind them, locking the door before starting toward the garage - his hand never leaving hers. When they reach the garage, he lets her hand go so he can get behind the wheel. She glances at him, wondering about the missing contact, but by then he’s starting up the car and getting settled into his seat before he looks over at her. 

"Seatbelt?" he asks.

“Always,” she confirms, clicking the buckle into place. “Think we still have time to stop at any of the shops?” she asks, hesitant. She knows he has a million more important things to be doing than chauffeuring her to the market for personal shopping .

He scoffs at the suggestion, his eyebrow twitching at the notion. 

"Seriously?" he asks, giving her an incredulous look. Sure, maybe he does have more important things to do, but there's a really short list of things that are more important to him than her.

"Of course we've got time. And if we don't, we'll make time."

She smiles sweetly at him, a little relieved by his answer. Of course, she knows still has a hectic day ahead and of course, she’s still worried about time - but it’s a weight off her shoulders to at least have one less thing to worry about.

And Jesus, maybe that kind of smile of hers is dangerous, or something, because the second it's on her face, a soft smile of his own pulls at his mouth. 

He figures it’s probably some psychological thing.

He starts up the car - letting out a little noise that's close to a chuckle - his fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter as he tries to hold himself in check. 

He really wants to kiss her right now, but he decides to be good, instead. Be a gentleman, or something. He makes a mental note to be sure to kiss her later, really kiss her. Kiss her until he can't taste words on his tongue, and he can't whisper sweet nothings against their lips, and- 

He has to stop his train of thought before it goes in a direction he can't back away from. 

So instead, he decides to focus on the drive. 

"Let's go."

Once they’re parked in the staff parking at MTC, she turns to him to say, “You can go on in first, yeah? I don’t want them thinking you’re coming in late.”

He can see how much she's putting his needs before her own - and it does something… funny to his ego - a pleasant feeling that makes him smile to himself. He turns to her, reaching over to pull her to him, giving her a sweet kiss.  It's just a peck - soft, warm lips pressed against his cheek for a fraction of a second..

When it's done, he pulls back to look her in the eye, a small smirk on his lips. 

"I think we're both gonna be late," he says quietly.

“I can be five minutes late, “ she smiles kindly. “I am your assistant, after all. Not you.”

He shakes his head, trying to ignore the way something in his chest warms when he glances over to the passenger seat. Too much caffeine, perhaps. He reaches over to touch her face - but at the last second he changes his mind and goes for her hair, running his hand through the soft locks briefly before he pulls back. "Okay, five. Ten tops," he says, before giving her a look that reminds her there will be consequences if she's any later.

"See you inside. And no getting lost," he teases.

“You got it, boss.”

“…Oscar?” He hears Y/N’s voice as she knocks on the door of his driver’s room. Back to work, back to being professional, it seems.

He hears the sound of his door opening and Y/N's voice filtering through his door - and he's reminded with a jolt that yes, there is, in fact, work to do today. He sits up a little straighter, schooling his expression into one of a professional and putting a polite smile on his face. "Yes, Y/N? Come in."

She peeks her head in, hoping he’s decent this time. 

“Here to remind you that you have a meeting with the race engineers before we have the team meeting at 10, followed by FP1 before we round out the first half of the day with lunch at around one.”

His gaze finds hers easily.

She had that look - the one that told him that all the progress they'd made that morning had gone away as soon as she reached work - and he hated it. He'd missed the way she'd looked at him in the car - the way that was so filled with affection that it practically carried its own physical weight.

But that wasn't a look she could wear at work, and he knew that. 

So he nods and smiles at her. "Thanks Y/N. I'll be right there."

She checks the time on her phone. “If I’m not mistaken, you were actually supposed to be there… about 7 minutes ago.���

He winces, closing his eyes and letting out a frustrated sigh. 

The morning had been too distracting - what with the whole "girl he likes spent the night in his bed" thing - he hasn't given much thought to work. He should have been better prepared than this. What the hell is wrong with him?

“Oscar?” she says, waving a hand in front of him to break him out of whatever daydream he’s in. 

They can’t start the strategy analysis meeting without him, obviously, because they’re his race engineers. And yet if Oscar doesn’t show up right about now, the blame is sure to fall on her shoulders since she’s supposed to be his babysitter, apparently.

He takes a breath, giving her a small nod. He's been a complete dumbass today - a distracted, lovesick fool. He needs to get his head in the game. "Yeah, okay, I'm good. Let's go."

“Phone,” she reminds him, as she watches him leave it behind. He turns around, blinking at her before looking down at the desk. 

His phone. 

It was still there - forgotten on the desk because as soon as she'd come into the room, he'd forgotten all about everything except for her. He shoots her an irritated look, but he picks it up. 

He would never admit it in a million years, but the fact that she was being a nag right now was doing something funny to his heart. Must be allergies or something.

“Wallet.”

While it wasn’t needed, Oscar always preferred having it on him instead of leaving it in his room or his locker or his personal car. If he forgot it, he’d just end up having to ask her to go fetch it later. 

His other hand goes to his back pocket, confirming that his wallet was already tucked safely inside of it. "I'm not completely incompetent, Y/N - you realize that, yeah?" he says, the words coming out harsher than he meant for them to.

He didn't want to be so rude with her, but he was already running late, and she was being a bit of a nag.

“Yeah? Is your tablet back there too?” she retorts.

He bites his lip, his brain racing to figure out whether he had his tablet or not. 

Yes, it turned out. It was right where he'd left it on the edge of his desk - completely forgotten until this minute. He snatches it up, sending her a look, "Anything else I need to be aware of?"

“Just that you have a meeting you’re running 10 minutes late for,” she informs him.

“Well that, and you forgot to lock the car this morning.”

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair. He can't decide whether he's the most forgetful person on the planet, or the most distracted. 

Maybe he's not forgetful, maybe he's just not focused.

Yes, that sounds right. Distracted. 

He looks back up at her, a smile playing on his lips, "Anything else I may have forgotten? Like, I don't know, the way to walk to my meeting?"

“Only one way to find out, Sir.”

Fair enough.

"Oh come on, you mean you're not coming with me?" he teases, a smirk on his face as he reaches for the door handle.

“Of course not.” The face she makes suggests that that is obvious. “While you’ve got a meeting here with our race engineers, I’ve got to go meet with Lando and his team.”

He stops and turns back around, his eyes fixed on hers. "Lando? You're going to run off to talk to Lando all day?"

"Well there's a meeting with him and his team plus Zak, and I'd agreed to be your stand-in since you can't be in two places at once, so... yes."

He knows she's just doing her job, and he knows that it's completely irrational to be so jealous of her talking to Lando of all people. 

Lando is a member of the team, and one of his closest friends. 

That didn't stop the thick plasma of jealousy from clawing at his gut - he knows that Lando's got a soft spot for her. He tries his absolute best to play things off so he can seem cool and unaffected by her words, "Right. Got it."

She misunderstands his upset for something else.

She places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Hey, don't worry about missing the meeting with Zak, okay? It'll probably be only like half an hour, and I promise to take good notes for you.”

She gives him a small smile. "Don't beat yourself up about it."

There's a warmth spreading through his body at her reassurance. 

She'd misunderstood him - she thinks that he's upset at missing the meeting with Zak. And she's right in a way - he should be upset because he does need to be at that meeting - but all he can focus on is the way she's smiling at him. 

And the way she's touching his shoulder. And the way her fingers feel against him. 

His eyes lock on hers.

They're interrupted by the sound of one of the race engineer's that Oscar is meant to be in a meeting with calling out to him from one of the meeting rooms.

"Right, right. I should-" he trails off, his tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips. "I'll see you later, okay?"

She says the same thing to him then that she says to him later, right before he heads out for FP1.

"Go make me proud."

He can't help but laugh at that - at the fact that she's treating him like he's a kid or a puppy or something. But here she is, being his assistant, his friend, his something - and her words are somehow the thing that's got him feeling ready to kick ass and take names.

Weird.

Once FP1 is over and done, everyone has worked up an appetite. Chattering voices fill the hallways as racers, assistants and various team members make their way to the main cafeteria. 

Oscar finds himself on the listening end of Lando’s rambles about things he noted about the car during their practice as they find a table to sit at.

He's not really listening to any of the words coming out of Lando's mouth - he can't stop thinking about how she'd wished him luck before he went out to FP1. 

He'd actually had a surprisingly good session. One of his best, even. No one else had tried that risky move in corner 9 that he'd tried - and the engineers seemed really impressed by his times. 

So she'd been right - he had made her proud. He'd made himself proud as well. 

When he finally does take a long enough break to pay attention to Lando's one-sided conversation, he realizes that the topic of conversation has already changed four or five times and he's completely lost. He sighs, trying to catch back up at some point in the monologue about Lando's new apartment in Woking or something. 

"Sorry - uh, what was that?"

“Dude, you there? You looked totally out right then,” Lando chuckles, before putting a forkful of tofu in mouth.

Lando's tofu looks awful. 

He's never going to understand why he's such a health nut. 

"I'm just-" he trails off, trying to find the words. He tries to come up with some excuse, but his mind is blank.

“What? Lookin’ for somethin’?” Lando asks, brows furrowed, and through a mouthful of drab-looking quinoa.

He shrugs, trying to play innocent. "Just… thinking." He's never thought about anyone else as much as he finds himself thinking about her lately - and they're not even really dating or anything. Hell, they'd just made out the night before.

“C’mon, mate. Spit it out already - you look…” he gives Oscar a judgemental once over. “Like your constipated or some shit.”

Meanwhile Oscar is thinking about where she could be. She’s his assistant after all - the three of them tend to have lunch together on race weekends. Plus, everyone else is here - so where the hell is she?

He chuckles - he's had way more embarrassing conversations with Lando before. 

"Constipated?" the Aussie counters, "More like in love. I'm having girl problems."

Lando, as wonderfully attention deficit as he is, seems to take that idea and run with it. He shovels another messy bite into his mouth. “Say, speaking of girls - where’s Y/N? Isn’t she usually here by now?”

Oscar snorts, reaching over to wipe a piece of quinoa from the corner of his teammate’s mouth. 

It's messy. The way Lando eats is gross. 

"No clue. She's not with you?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. He's only asking to be polite. If for whatever reason she was with Lando, he'd be pissed.

“Nah,” he says, shaking his head in a way that makes his messy curls fall a little onto his forehead. “Last I saw her was when we left Zak’s office. Think she said summ’in about needing to grab something from her office?”

Oscar tries to fight the urge to get up and look for her. She’s his assistant, not his cat or something. Maybe she just wasn’t in the mood for lunch together today, or she could have an errand to run, or maybe she’s in a meeting that wasn’t in her calendar-

Lando must see the slight concern on his face, because he chuckles. "What, d’you miss her or something? You've been acting all weird since she left."

Oscar shakes his head, trying to play it off. "I'm just- I'm just wondering, y'know? She's supposed to be here, isn't she?" His stomach is tightening. Something feels weird about this. Maybe he should go find her? 

“We could check on her if you want,” Lando offers.

Oscar's eyes brighten at the suggestion. Yeah. That sounds like a good idea. 

"Yeah. I think that would be…" he trails off, trying to think of the word.He nods, trying to pretend that she's not taking up literally all of the space in his brain. 

"Yeah, yeah, let me just throw this in the bin," Lando mutters, getting to throw his trash away. These new biodegradable straws were supposed to be good, something about them turning to compost for the environment. Instead, they decided to become compost-y mush in Lando’s mouth - every time. 

They make their way down the corridor to her office, approaching the open door. It’s empty. He exchanges a look with Lando, Oscar taking a deep breath as he pushes the door open. Lando waits somewhat awkwardly by the entrance to the restroom, unsure if he’s allowed to intrude or if he’s meant to just be moral support.

Oscar peeks his head in, taking a glance around. He sees a row of sinks, and no-one else. 

"Y/N?" he calls out gently.

He hears a faint gurgle in response. It sounds like it’s coming from one of the stalls further back, actually. The sound makes Oscar's stomach drop. It sounds like she's puking, or maybe choking. He runs over to all of the other stalls, his knuckles knocking loudly on them as he tries to get someone's attention. He calls out her name, hoping the sound of her voice will put this all to rest.

“Y/N, come out." he repeats, his voice desperate and worried.

When he knocks on the door to the last stall, the door budges. It isn’t locked.

He hears the sound of her retching coming from within, followed by a long, dry cough. 

Something tells him that this wouldn't be a good moment to go in - that he shouldn't look right now. But he doesn’t even give it a second thought. His mind is consumed with the thought of her - his concern for her, his person. 

He slowly pushes open the bathroom stall door, bracing himself for the sight before him. He finds a hunched over figure leaning against the wall, fatigued. But she tilts her face marginally in his direction, and Oscar’s heart stills in his fucking chest.

Her lips - the same ones that had been pressed against his just hours ago - are smeared with blood. Her teeth are speckled with it. Red splatters and spots of blood marr the front of her blouse. 

All of the air drains from his lungs at once. The air thickens. He can't move. 

What the hell even happened?

He tries to speak, but he can't get a word out. So what does he do?

He does the one thing he can - he moves in to hold her.

“O- Oscar,” she trembles, too busy to be bothered to be professional. 

“I think s- something’s wrong…”

Part 3

a/n: thank you so much for making it this far! i'd love to hear what you thought of it :)