#hannes writing

[god-has-entered-my-body]

What time you coming out? - M.H x Reader // pt.1

A/N: Lenas writer debut??? Omg??? This has a bunch of references to fics like the cellophane house (written by the lovely @vinylandcoffeecollection, srsly check out their work!). It's a bit angsty? Not really but angst will come this is a chaptered fic. Based off fallingforyou, hence the title. Thank you @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for beta reading and putting up with me xx

wc: 11k

part two

February, 2008

“I'm not sure we should be doing this, neither of us is a professional hairdresser in any capacity” 

Mötley Crüe’s ‘Public Enemy #1’ blares through the small speaker set on top of the toilet lid, the music reverberating off the bathroom's tiled walls. Matty attempts to brush the bleach onto your hair, narrowly missing your eyebrow for what felt like the sixth time. You'd prefer to not come out of this situation looking like 90s madonna if you could help it. 

“Could you maybe not get the stuff on my face? I'm not sure I'd look as amazing as I do with bleached brows,” you say, flicking Mattys hand away from your hair, straightening your posture on top of the sink. Your elbow accidently knocks into the faucet and you curse out loud. 

“You're right love, you'd look well hideous without brows” Matty retorts, laughing in your face. He's right, doesn't mean he has to say it.

“At least I have any sort of eyebrows, I'd get yours filled in if I was you.” Now it's your turn to laugh at him, his jaw hitting the floor at your comment. He clutches his chest with his hand, bending over for dramatic effect as if to say: “You wound me”. You fall into each other's arms, fighting over the ipod once again.

The song changes, and Matty resumes his attempts at bleaching your hair properly, failing once again. It had been a stupid, stoned impulse decision to buy the bleach at all. The local drugstore sold it for cheap, and you had some pocket change on you. Matty wanted you to buy the red dye, and you dismissed him immediately, because even he knew you'd look absolutely terrible as a redhead. 

You hum along softly to David Bowie's “Suffragette City”. Bowie was your Idol. The song reminds you of him. Of Matty. It reminds you of when you first met.

—------------------------------------------------------

You were 15, pacing the street late at night, your boyfriend was blowing up your phone. Insincere apologies and “i love you”’s filled your screen. 4 missed calls. Tears were streaming down your face, making you not quite able to see straight. 

The song playing, was blaring in your headphones, almost deafening. The song didn't fit at all to your current situation, but that didn't bother you.

It wasn't long before you reached a bus stop, sitting down. You didn't even know where you were. 

Suddenly, like it was out of your control, you let out broken sobs, no longer silently crying. How fucking embarrassing.

You're not sure how long you’d been sitting there, in the dark, shivering in the cruel November weather. 

You hadn't even noticed the person walking up to you. 

He’d positioned himself in front of you, twisting his neck to get a look underneath your hood.

“You alright?” his voice sounded soft, concerned even. Through muffled sobs, you managed to look up at him. 

He had a thick, fluffy jacket on. Oddly feminine for bloke, and you were pretty sure it was a women's coat. It basically swallowed him whole. You almost laughed at the sight. It almost made you forget about the night's events. 

You’d had yet another fight with your boyfriend, Phillip. The two of you fought a lot, but never like this. Sure, he’d said some hurtful things, things you maybe shouldn't have forgiven as quickly as you did, but he had never, ever, gotten violent with you. Until tonight.

You'd barely registered it when it happened, your brain not properly processing his actions. In the midst of his screaming, he raised his hand. Raised. his. hand. 

It came down with a crash against your left cheek, the sound echoing through the house. Because he did, in fact, have his own flat. Because 24 year olds usually have that. 

Everything hit you at once. You'd managed to pick yourself up off the ground at a speed which would have given even world record holders a run for their money. You didn't bother grabbing anything else, you just needed to get out, now. 

You could faintly hear his voice calling out from behind you, begging you to please, please come back. And what? Let him put his hands on you again? No way. A rare moment of clarity.

Fucking cunt 

You’re brought back to reality by the sound of the stranger's voice. 

“I’m Matty.” he offered his hand, and you shook it. “What're you doing out here in the cold? Its fuckin’ freezing.” He's right, it was cold. It hadn't occurred to you to take your coat with you.

You stuttered out a pathetic response of your name, barely making eye contact with him. A few beats pass before Matty starts ruffling around in his coat pockets. Raising your eyebrows, you watch him.

You can hear the faint sound of keys in his right pocket, and it's not long before he pulls out a joint from his left. It looks crumpled and old, like it had been there for a while. 

“Spliff? It looks like you need it more than me.” He chuckles, and it somehow makes you feel better. He makes a move to sit next to you, and you twitch slightly when his shoulder touches yours. The bench is quite narrow, so you know it's not on purpose. It doesn't bother you quite as much as it should, given he is a stranger. 

He takes out his lighter. It looks old and used, the black plastic chipping off around the top. It looks like it's a miracle it even works. You can see white writing along the side of it. M.H. Initials? His initials? Matty H something.  

He starts burning the tip. Rotating the joint to get an even burn, you watch his movements closely, taking in some of his features. 

His hair was curly but frizzy, you could tell he didn't pay it much mind. His features seemed soft, almost feminine. He was clean shaven, his pale skin a stark contrast to the dark brown of his hair. 

Matty lets you take the first drag, stating “The first hit’s the best, and I've always been a gentleman”, flashing a grin your way. That made you laugh. You take a drag, letting the warm feeling spread through your body.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked timidly, his voice lowering. 

“Absolutely not.” You mutter, looking him straight in the eyes for what seems like the first time that night. A smile.  

—-------------------------------------------------------

“D’you think I'd look good as a blonde? I feel like I'd smash it,” Matty says, inspecting his hair in the mirror behind you. He has gorgeous locks, and you're constantly telling him to try and take care of them, he just doesn't listen. You study his features before giving him an answer.

“Maybe. Either that or you'd look like a bad hooker,” Matty gasps, shoving your shoulder in protest. The movement  makes your elbow bang against the faucet again, but you ignore the pain this time 

“I'll let you know i'd make an amazing hooker, thanks very much,” He proclaims quite loudly, making the both of you burst into a laughing fit. 

You take the brush from Matty, twirling in your hand. George had taught you how to do that. An idea pops into your head. 

“We could give you a few blonde highlights, just to try it out. There's no need for you to go full Elle Woods immediately” A giggle escapes your lips, picturing Matty with long, blonde hair. That’d be a sight. 

“Let's do it, right now,” he breathes, visibly excited.

“Really? Adam’d take the absolute piss out of you, you know.” Matty rolls his eyes obnoxiously before he speaks. “Well then let Adam hold on to his toxic ideas of masculinity, I need a change.” This piques your interest. Matty? Need a change? Weird. 

“What, did some bird break your heart this time? That's new, even for you Matthew,”

You can see him visibly cringe at your use of his full name. You know he hates it, and that is exactly why you do it. Getting a rise out of him is your favorite pastime. 

“Switch with me then,” you say, and he obliges, letting you hop off the counter. You mix up a new batch of bleach and part off his hair into small sections. Little pink hair bands hold his curls in place. You shoot him a look and he nods, giving you the go-ahead. The bleach goes on smoothly, your practiced hand much less prone to mistakes than Mattys.

It doesn't take long before you're both sitting on your bed with foils in your hair. You manage to snap a picture of Matty on your polaroid camera. The light reflects off the foils, distorting the picture slightly. Matty demands to see it, but you decide to keep it for yourself. Can't get everything you want.  

It's Mattys' turn on the music. 

You've decided on a turn system for music when you're together, to avoid the gnarly fights you used to have over who gets to control the ipod.

He picks the latest Deftones album. It's not really your taste, and you tell him as much. 

“S’not my fault your music taste consists of pop trash. Get well soon”, now it's your turn to shove him, and he almost falls off the bed. Your fights over music happened frequently. He insisted on listening to real music, while you couldn't care less if it sounded good. 

The timer dings and you both get up to wash your hair in the sink. Water splashes everywhere, absolutely soaking the bathroom. You don't care. It's just water. 

Towels litter the bathroom floor, soaking up the mess. Matty helps you dry your hair after you promise to help with his. The warm air feels nice on your neck. 

“I like it, it makes me look camp,” Matty states, admiring himself in the mirror. Of course he'd say something like that. 

“You look great, now get dressed, I've messaged Hann. He's picking us up at half 11” 

Adam was one of your best mates, and the only one who had a car. You and Matty were still in school, along with George, another one of your friends. Adam and Ross shared a flat on the outskirts of the city. Adam's mother had gifted him a car for his 18th birthday last year. A bright red Kia. Bumper stickers littered the back, your favorite reading ‘Vehicle of legends” 

Matty had borrowed one of your tops, specifically, a mesh top you'd gotten from Hollister a few weeks prior. It was adorned with a black tank top underneath, paired with the black skinny jeans you're convinced have fused with his legs at this point. 

His hair had dried, dark curls now in contrast with blonde streaks. They framed his face. He looked good. 

You’d gone for a more colorful ensemble, opting for baggy jeans instead of skinny ones. The bottom had already been well ripped up from years of dragging them on the ground. You paired said jeans with a wine-red off the shoulder jumper, the black strap of your bralette peaking out. You’d always loved that color. It reminded you of your favorite flowers, red roses.

The window closed softly, and you silently thanked God you lived on the first floor. Adam was already parked down the road from your house, impatiently waiting for the two of you. The radio was playing as you got in. Matty immediately started going on about how pop music has ruined the music scene and how it was all 'soulless, meaningless droning' and 'had no feeling anymore'. He always did this, and you'd learned to tune it out by then. 

The drive was short, and you arrived at your destination not long after you’d set off. The air smelled like water and wet pavement. It had been pissing down earlier in the day.  

‘The spot’ was an abandoned paper factory, affectionately renamed “Caroline's house” for any eavesdropping parents.  

Carolines had been abandoned for well over 5 years before you started hanging out there, not many knew about it.

The three of you had already made your way through the back entrance. The front had been blocked off years ago, a futile attempt at keeping kids out. There was one specific room you always went to, and that was the office. It had a huge terrace with an amazing view of the city below. The glowing lights made you feel small and irrelevant in the vastness of the world. 

The night was bright under the full moon, making it easy to see outside. Adam always brought an emergency flashlight with him when you went to Carolines. He was the voice of reason in the midst of the chaos. The responsible one. He always made sure everyone got home safe, talked your way out of situations with coppers on multiple occasions, and knew when to tell the bartender to switch drinks to water or juice. You’d always thank him the morning after. 

“What even is your shirt, mate,” Adam asked with a grin on his face. He loved to take the piss out of Matty for his camp-ness. No harm no foul, Matty would do the exact same to him when the opportunity presented itself. Eyeing him up and down, he shook his head and went back to picking at his nails.   

“She let me borrow it for tonight. Looks good, yeah?” Matty shoots back. 

“Yeah sure, that and those white streaks in your hair make you look like a proper girl, you know” 

You have to laugh at his statement, because it does ring true. From a certain distance, anyone could mistake Matty for a woman. 

“You wish I was a girl, it’d make you feel less guilty about your sex fantasies, innit?” Matty cackles at his own words. Adam chucks a lighter at him, and misses. It instead bounces off the railing of the terrace and clatters down onto the ground somewhere behind you. 

That was your cue to take out the small baggy from the pocket of your jeans. Going to look for the lighter Adam had just thrown, you turn around to see he’d already snatched your papes and weed, and started to roll a spliff. 

“Oh come on, I look away for a second and you steal my weed. What, are you too broke to buy your own?” You huffed, sitting down on the floor next to him. 

“Girls don't roll their own spliffs. You should know that by now, love” he said with a wink. 

Cue eye roll. 

“Oh thank you so much, what would I ever do without you, Hann? Fuck off.” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. This was never a display of chivalry, it was simply Adams' way of trying to get under your skin. Your stubborn self wouldn't let him, of course. Flashing him an award winning smile, you lay back on your elbows and eye him as he rolls your joint for you. 

Matty was preoccupied with gathering enough cardboard so he could sit on the floor comfortably. The three of you couldn't be arsed bringing in furniture from the office, so you were left with the cold, unforgiving concrete floor of the terrace to sit on. 

The minutes ticked by and Adam took his sweet time, presenting the spliff with a look of pride. You reach for it, seeing as you already had the lighter in your hand. Instead of handing it to you. Adam shakes his head. 

“Girls dont light their own spliffs, either” You scoff at that, though deciding against smacking him upside the head. You hand him the lighter.  

Mattys giggles can be faintly heard over your bickering, and Adam finally lights up. The distinct earthy smell fills up the air around you. They both let you have the first drag, stating something along the lines of “Ladies first” another eye roll.  

“Fucking wankers”, you mutter under your breath, and finally, you inhale. It hits you almost immediately, a soft, fuzzy feeling that reverberates through your veins into every inch of your body. The two of them let out a laugh at your expression, utterly euphoric. 

Adam takes the next drag, hitting him just as hard as it did you. He leans against the glass sliding door, letting his eyes droop closed. 

“Fucking hell, this is some strong weed.” He lets out a rough cough, “Where’d you even get it from?” 

“Oh y’know, just some guy. Same as always I s’pose,” 

Matty spoke “What, d’you shag him or something? No one just gives out this type of premium stuff on a whim,” 

This makes you chuck the grinder at him. It hits him square in the chest. You hum contentedly, grinning at him in amusement when he doubles over in pain. You bicker back and forth, calling each other names. Adam passes the spliff back to you, and you take another hit. 

Time passes slowly. The clouds slowly reveal more and more of the full moon. It is quite beautiful tonight, you notice. 

Adam produces a bottle of tequila from his ‘gay-ass tote bag’ as Ross calls it. You take turns taking swigs straight from the bottle, Matty managing to spill some onto his mesh top, making quite literally everything reek of alcohol.

You felt good. The high mixed with the healthy amount of tequila made you feel like you were floating. You could tell Matty was just as hammered as you, seeing as he was now straddling Adams lap, trying to kiss him. 

After multiple attempts at getting him off, Matty stood up on his own, stating that he didn't want Hann to pop a boner au cause de his womanly features.   

The three of you laugh and laugh until you finish the spliff. You’d never had a good tolerance for anything, whether it be weed or alcohol. You weren't particularly small, it just always hit you way harder than Adam or Ross. Even Matty managed to pull himself together when the situation called for it. You, however, were stumbling and tripping over your feet the entire walk home. It had been pissing down the entire morning. Puddles littered the streets, not an ideal weather for someone who was too wasted to even have any sort of depth perception.  

Adam had to leave suddenly, picking up a last minute shift at the shop he worked at. It was in the opposite direction of where you came from, leaving you and Matty to walk home. 

It wasn't a long walk, 30 odd minutes or so. It was made significantly longer by your inability to walk in a straight line to save your life. Echoing laughs filled the streets as Matty helped you trudge along. Your pants dragged on the floor as usual, which meant they were also dragging through the numerous puddles, soaking them. 

You stop suddenly, looking down and pouting at the darkened material of your pants. For some inexplicable reason, this made you stomp your feet like a child. Matty broke out in uncontrollable laughter, tears forming in his eyes. You were actually acting like a child.

“I don't know why you insist on wearing those insanely baggy pants. Look at me! My pants don't get wet AND my ass looks phenomenal in skinny jeans” He twirls around you, making you feel slightly dizzy.

“Oh fuck off!! Not everyone is an attention slag like you, have some decency for once in your life!” You retort, shoving him out of your line of sight. Due to your state, Matty quickly catches up to you. 

The steps of your house come quicker than expected. Both of you make your way to the east side of the first floor, where your bedroom window remains slightly ajar. You'd wedged an old shirt between it to keep it from closing all the way. You'd gotten sneaking out down to an art, always knowing when, where and how. Your mother had caught you once. It was your first time. You knew not to make those same mistakes again.

Matty helped you hop onto the windows ledge, his hands grabbing at your sides. While he looked frail, Matty was actually quite strong, lifting you up without breaking a sweat. 

You're sitting on the edge, slightly taller than him now. Peering down, you reach your arms out. The two of you hugged tightly, whispering quiet “goodnight”s and “sleep well”s. Saying goodbye after a night out often felt strangely melancholic, you never wanted the other to leave. 

You've been attached at the hip since that night. He’d convinced you to break up with Phillip, stating he was a bastard who shouldn't be allowed near women ever again.

Matty went on to introduce you to his mates after you’d found out you went to the same highschool. That was nearly 3 years ago now. 

Late nights often make you wonder what would have happened if you hadn't gone to that specific bus stop and met Matty. If he had ignored your crying instead of offering you weed and sitting down next to you. He’d always been charming, like a magnet, he attracted everyone around him. Sure, he was a bit pretentious at times, but everyone has their faults. 

You roll over and try to sleep, slowly coming down from your high. You made a mental note to take it easy next time, maybe pace yourself. It was hard to know your limits when it came to substances, and Matty was the same way. Adam was the ever responsible one, never too drunk or high, always the parent. You were grateful for him, knowing what situations you'd be stuck in if Adam had not been there to smooth things over. 

The tiredness hits you in waves. Glancing at the clock left of your desk, it read 3:26 am. Fuck. You try to ignore the fact that you had to be up in about 4 hours. You close your eyes, welcoming the rest. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

A harsh knocking sounded from the direction of your window, scaring the shit out of you. You bolt up, pissed at the disturbance. Turning to face the window, and are met with a familiar grin. Matty. 

It takes all of 5 seconds of him being in your room before you start cursing at him for waking you up like that. He simply shrugs his shoulders and sits in his designated chair. A maroon sofa chair in the corner in front of your bed. It even has M.H carved into the wood, because Matty had some sort of fetish for carving his initials into things. A sign of ownership? It made you wonder. 

Shuffling around the room, you kick your still wet jeans off into the corner, instead picking up a denim skirt. You’d wanted to wear that same red top to school, but seeing as you had fallen asleep wearing it, you chucked it into the same corner as the pants. 

A pink baby tee caught your eye from the chair Matty was sitting in. You silently point at it and he passes it to you. This isn't the first time you've changed in front of him. It didn't happen often, but what was the point of kicking him out? It's not like he was actively staring anyway.

After quickly changing, you go to put on some makeup. Makeup made you feel pretty, pretty enough to go outside. The only person who sees your bare face regularly is Matty. Maybe George. You didn't go anywhere without it.

You can feel Matty looking at you from the corner of your eye. Raising your eyebrows at him, you ask him what he's staring at. 

“D’you reckon i can try some of that?” he gestures vaguely at the eyeshadow brush in your hand “I think i’d look class with my new highlights.” he twirls his hair around his finger, giving you a look.

You look at him skeptically, before breaking out into a smile. Matty smiles back. It's not long before he’s sat in front of you, wincing whenever the brush makes contact with his eyelid. You tell him hes just not used to it, and to just stay still, for fucks sake. 

Once you're done, you take a step back to admire your work. You have to admit, he looks good. Really good. His eyes were lined with a dark purple shadow, making them appear slightly bigger. He takes his fingers, slightly smudging the out corners, giving him a catty look. 

“I think you might even look even better than me,” you say, looking him up and down. This is one of those rare moments where you can't read Mattys' expression at all. Finally, he opens his mouth

“No one could look better than you, trust me,”  

A beat of silence before he speaks again

“I do look ravishing though, d’you reckon Adam'll like this more than the highlights?” He always manages to make himself laugh. Then in typical Matty fashion, he pulls out a beat up looking joint from the pocket of his too tight jeans. 

“Fancy a spliff?” 

“Matty, for christ's sake, we have school in about an hour, and you want to smoke now?” 

“It's the only true way to get through Mr. Henderson's maths class, you know it'll be unbearable if we don't.” translation: please smoke with me. He gives you a look, because you know he's right. 

It was too late to protest. He’d already made his way to open your window, knowing how much you hate stinking up your room.

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, and you find your place next to him. 

The wind and rain had calmed down, so Matty had no difficulty lighting it. The smell filled your senses, almost overwhelming you. You were thankful for the fresh air.

He placed the spliff between your lips, watching you intently as you inhaled. Your orange lip gloss had rubbed off the filter, and transferred onto his lips. The weed wasnt as strong as last nights, but still, the sight of Mattys glossed lips made you break out into a fit of giggles. Time seemed irrelevant up until the point you had to run to catch your bus. Sweaty and out of breath, you sat down in your usual spot. 

You can hear comments and insults being thrown at Matty from the back of the bus, but neither of you paid much mind. Matty was high as a kite, and too loopy (hungover) from the previous night to offer up one of his witty retorts. Instead, both of you gave them the bird from over the seat.

Matty was leaning against you, his arms hooked into yours. Neither of you spoke, listening to the soft rumbling of the bus. You stank of weed, anyone could smell it on you. Remembering a perfume bottle in your handbag, you take it out and douse yourself, as well as Matty in it. 

“Oh for fucks sake, now everything smells like Jimmy Choo Illicit!” Matty whined, burying his head in his hands. “Couldn't you have picked a manlier perfume? I'm already walking a very thin line with all of this” He vaguely gestures to himself. 

“Would you rather get kicked out after coming to school smelling like a fucking dispensary? Think ahead, Matthew!” He cringes visibly

“No need to get out the full government name, jesus” he shuffles up against you, and you can see his eyes are a light shade of red. There's no way the two of you would get through first lesson unnoticed. 

George was already waiting for you guys at your stop. Greeting him with a hug, you try to avoid eye contact, yet somehow, he knows. 

“Hey, you alright-?” He cranes his neck to get a better look at your face 

“Are you–? Are you high??” He laughs out loud, smacking your arm to stabilize himself. You shoot him a death stare, but you can feel a laugh coming too. Matty let out a sarcastic haha before kicking George as a way to say get on with it, we have class.

The walk to the room through the sea of people in the halls feels like a claustrophobic hell. B.O ridden teenagers rub up against the three of you, some even (quite violently) shoving past. 

It's a miracle you make it without Matty losing his mind at one of the hecklers. School was actual hell for Matty, and by proxy, you. Insults were thrown at him without a second thought, and the makeup he’d adorned today surely didn't help the comments.

He never let it truly get to him. He didn't care, and that's what you loved so much about him. This part of the city was set back about fifteen years in terms of acceptance and progressivity, so his flowery backpack and femininity wasn't exactly welcomed.

Adam had always taken the piss out of him for his outfits since they were boys, but he never, ever meant it seriously. They were like brothers, those two, and no amount of shit from other people (irrelevants, as Matty would put it) would be able to break them apart. 

The way the room was set up, there were six tables of four, with two people always facing another two. You had sat in the seat next to George, with Matty sitting (well, more like laying) across the other two chairs opposite you. Mr. Henderson had given up on trying to get Matty to sit right a long time ago, instead just flat out ignoring him. It was always easier to fail than to teach. 

“Fucking poofter, that one,” you can hear someone saying from behind you. You know they mean Matty. 

Matty blows them both a kiss before getting flipped off by the shorter one. He loved taking the piss out of the people who insulted him, throwing them off. 

George questions mattys makeup, and you tell him it was his idea. George had always supported Matty, using his insanely tall stature to fend off anyone giving him a hard time. 

The lesson was going by at a snail's pace, with Matty being his usual self, interrupting at every possible moment. It was so obvious he was off his tits, and Mr. Henderson looked suspicious. A particularly loud laugh from George had prompted him to throw you all out. You couldn't care less, getting up immediately.

Matty picked up his things from the floor, making a show out of bending over in front of the two boys that had insulted him earlier. They both scrunch their faces in disgust, muttering under their breaths. A giggle escapes you as they stare daggers.

“Fucking cunt,” one of them says, and now it’s your turn to blow them a kiss. 

The three of you trudge down the halls, slowly but surely coming down from your highs. George suggests going to Ross and Adams flat, seeing as it's just a few bus stops away from the school. They share a flat above a Sainsburys, which is optimal for late night munchies. Adam even works there, so there's always opportunities to sneak a packet of crisps or a can of cola. 

The bus stinks of sweat and mildew, as did all buses in britain. You get used to the stench after a while, your legs propped up onto George and Mattys laps. The back seat was always your favorite, giving you ample space to stretch a bit. You and George share headphones while Matty takes a quick power nap. He always lets you pick the music, and today it was Radioheads ‘No Surprises’. The music plays softly as buildings and trees pass by the window. The day was quite sunny, the light reflecting off of the windows of houses and offices. You'd sobered up enough to be able to think clearly by now. 

These days were the best. They felt calm, like you could forget every other fucked up thing in your life. Your mother, your coursework. Nothing else existed in your little bubble except the people you were with. It felt peaceful, like a breath of fresh air. 

Matty stirred awake as the bus halted to a stop, yawning for dramatic effect. He loved to exaggerate, ever the performer. George was the quiet, brooding type, trying desperately to go unnoticed, which proved rather difficult. Although he was barely coming up on his 18th birthday, he had grown to a staggering 6 '4, with a voice at least 3 or so octaves deeper than Mattys. 

It had proven useful, you aways had someone to send into the smoke shop to buy fags or liquor, even if it always took a pep talk to even get him through the front door. George was convinced he didn't look older, even though he had never been carded. Ever. 

Usually it was Adam who bought it for you, even though both Matty and Ross were also already 18. Matty had already been banned from most liquor stores in the area, so he proved rather useless in situations needing a bit of booze. 

Mattys violent knocks against the flat door brought you back to reality

“C’MON OPEN UP ITS US,” his voice booms through the hallway. You can hear banging and shuffling coming from the other side of the door. It's so obviously Ross bumping into every available surface because he hadn't turned on the light yet. He was an avid day sleeper, mostly working night shifts. A particularly loud crash is followed by glass breaking. 

Matty taps his foot impatiently, waiting for the door to finally open. Ross emerges, looking disgruntled and tired of Mattys shit. 

“Mate, tell me, what possessed you to come knocking about at this hour, don't you have school-? I swear you're going to be the end of me one day” he rubs his eyes, getting the sleep out of them before moving out of the way to let the three of you in. 

“First of all, it's like 11am, so not exactly the ungodly hour you were describing,” Matty starts “Second of all, we’ve been kicked out of class, so where better to come than here?” 

The inside of the flat reeks of cigarettes and laundry detergent. Ross refuses to smoke on the terrace, deeming it too cold even in the middle of summer. Adam always smokes on the terrace, scared of staining the walls like in those addiction documentaries. A futile attempt, but at least he tries. Matty immediately lights a fag, sighing happily when the nicotine hit his system. School had always been an endurance test for him. Getting him to sit still for 2 hours without going for a cigarette proved nearly impossible. He was already itching by the 45 minute mark.

“What did you even do to get kicked out before 12?” He looks at George, who tells him exactly what happened with tears of laughter in his eyes. Matty rolls his before sitting down on the comforter located to the left of the TV, ashing into one of the various ashtrays situated around the house. George sits on the sofa next to Ross, and you make your way to your favorite spot, the table. Sitting cross legged on the table made you all face each other, which you quite liked. 

“Brew?” George asks, looking up from his Ipod. Everyone nods, and he gets up to put on the kettle. Idle conversation fills the air, and Matty starts chatting about the new “groundbreaking” Metallica album. Matty was, if anything, a music snob. No one could stop him raving on about albums or artists, whether he was praising or criticizing them. Once he started, you couldn't stop him to save your life.

Minutes tick past when George brings back mugs of tea. Mattys mug has got the words “I ❤️ cum” on it. Ross has his usual Macclesfield Town mug, and you and George have the plain green ones Adam bought in an attempt to make the flat seem somewhat civilized. 

Hours pass and Matty finally shuts up. You end up on top of him, sitting on the arms of the comforter. You're all watching Skins on the telly, and Mattys hand makes its way to your back, keeping you steady. He’d always been touchy like that, so it didn't bother you. You look at the sofa and see Ross passed out, drooling onto George's jumper. George, polite as ever, lets him sleep. It was a miracle Ross hadn't started snoring already. 

You suggest to Matty that maybe it was time to get going, seeing as you lived on the other side of the city. George's place was right around the corner, so he decided to stay and look after Ross a bit before Adam got home from his shift. Britain's sweetheart. 

Getting up as quietly as possible, making your way towards the door. Ross stirs as Matty almost knocks over his mug. The two of you make eye contact, silently laughing at Ross’ position, basically on top of George. He flipped you off, rolling his eyes and reaching for the remote, turning down the telly.

It was still fairly dark inside, so gathering everything proved a bit of a challenge. The curtains were drawn shut, the yellow material of them painting the house in a warm yellow hue. 

You had spotted Mattys flowery bag in the corner next to the stove, and grabbed it along with a bottle of cola that was set on top of the kitchen counter. Hydration was important, after all, even if you knew Adam would be livid that you were stealing his shit again. What are mates for?    

Matty grabbed both of your coats, mouthing “lets go,” before making his way towards the front door. 

The bright light of the hallway burns your eyes. How do they survive coming out here when that fucking flat is always so dark? You think to yourself. You wonder if Ross has a vitamin D deficiency from the inherent lack of sunshine in his life, yourself excluded. 

The bus ride home is rowdier, filled with kids from surrounding schools. The both of you hid in a corner towards the front, away from the dickheads that usually sat in the back row. You were both too tired to deal with anyone but each other. 

He was right, everything did smell like jimmy choo now, and maybe you shouldn't have sprayed so much. 

His hand wanders to his eyes, rubbing a bit of the eyeshadow off.

“Does it still look alright?” he asks, looking up from your lap. It had smudged a bit, melted off after a full day of wear. It's not like you used your expensive waterproof stuff, after all.

“You look fine, pretty actually,” You give him a tired smile, stroking his hair absentmindedly 

“Can you even call a guy pretty? Isn't that, like, inherently degrading?” Matty mutters, a grin spreading onto his face. 

“It's only degrading if you let it be. You Matthew Healy, are pretty. Pretty like a girl” 

A laugh escapes you, imagining Matty as a woman. Knowing him, he’d be into it. 

“Does it bother you? Y’know, me being feminine and wearing makeup.” The question surprises you. It's a rare thing seeing Matty this vulnerable. He doesn't care what other people think, but he does care what you think. 

“You know I don't care, I actually prefer you this way.” you assure him.

“Though it's still my mission to convince you that the backpack is not the move you think it is.” 

That earns you a frown from Matty. “It is! I'll let you know the lady at the store told be it very in this time of year” its always funny watching him get defensive over his fashion choices, even if he knows he’s fucked up and its hideous. 

“Yeah maybe it's trendy... for 8 year old girls! But you do you mate, don't let me judge you,” that gets you an elbow to the gut. 

The walk home is one you always take together. Arms hooked into each other, walking, sharing headphones. It's your turn on the music, putting on ‘This Charming Man’ by the smiths. 

“You know, Morrissey sort of reminds me of you. You're really similar in your campness”  Matty choked on air, shooting you a faux offended look. 

“Did you seriously call Morrissey camp? He'd have your head for that.” 

“You're both attention slags, so there's at least one similarity.” Matty doesn't say anything, knowing your words do, in fact, ring true. Matty loves attention, and man, is good at getting it. 

He draws people to him like moths to a flame. Always the loudest, always the most interesting. 

That one saying; “You can't be the prettiest girl at the party, but you always be the drunkest” is a personification of Matty. He tips back wine glass after wine glass, not caring about the stains on his shirt or the red ring around his lips. He then makes it a poor Hanns job to make sure he doesnt get into a scrap with three much bigger guys (which actually did happen last summer outside of a pub in london. Matty got out scot free, while Adam nearly suffered a heart attack). 

You hug Matty goodbye, giving him a peck on the cheek. 

You always dreaded coming home. 

They say your biggest critic is your mind, but yours was your mother. You knew she had already gotten a call from the school saying you cut class. The moment you stepped into the living room, the yelling started. “How can you do this” and “What are you even doing with your life” turned into “Look at yourself, you look like a whore and you're going to school like that?” or “Were you out with that little gay boyfriend of yours again?”

You try to tune it out, not letting it get to you. She's been like that for as long as you can remember, never letting up for even just a second. You weren't the best kid, but she sure isn't helping you “get on the right track” as she liked to say.

Tears well up in your eyes when you finally shut your bedroom door. Your first instinct is to call Matty. He picks up after two rings, immediately hearing the quiver in your voice. 

He tells you he’ll be there as soon as he can. 

Minutes pass by slowly until you hear a familiar, although uncharacteristically soft, knock at your window. Matty.

Your puffy eyes meet his and he can tell you’d been crying. No words were exchanged as he took you into your arms, his hands soothingly stroking your hair as you let out muffled sobs into his chest. It broke his fucking heart to see you like this. You were extensions of each other, the others' pain was always your own.    

“It's all so shit. Why cant she just be normal one fucking time.” your voice audibly shakes, partially out of anger and partially out of exasperation. 

“I know i suck, I know I'm a bad daughter but-,” Matty cuts you off. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” His words only make you cry harder. 

He holds you close, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, the sound of his voice similar to the way he spoke to you that night. His hands feel cold against your skin, and you know he’d rushed to your house without grabbing his coat. You look up at him, seeing his hair was unruly, curls falling into his face. The blonde highlights littered his dark hair and he ran his hand through them, brushing them to the side to get a better look at you. 

“D’you want to sit down? We can listen to music. Whatever you want, and won't even comment on how shit it is, promise,” He knew you didn't want to talk about it then, you never did.  

You sit in silence, your face still in his chest, staining the light blue material of his shirt. You quietly apologize, knowing how much he loves that shirt. He tells you to shut up, and that it didn't matter. 

He had gotten it in Barcelona at some tourist shop for 50 quid. Insane price for a tshirt that just said “Barcelona” on it, but he held it dear to his heart. It reminded him of his childhood summers. 

“There's a bottle of um…,” you trail off, gesturing to the second drawer of your nightstand. Matty understands, and reaches over you to open it. The drawer is filled with half eaten granola bars, bracelets, jewelry, the odd vape for when it was too cold to go outside. Matty always took the piss out of you for having them, saying they were ‘so fucking girly it hurt’. After a second of rummaging, he took out a half drunk bottle of Bacardi. It always sat in your nightstand for when you needed it, and you definitely needed it now. 

“Only you'd have a giant bottle of rum in your nightstand,” Matty says softly, searching your expression. The corners of your mouth tug upwards at his words, and you crack a smile.   

He opens it for you, and grabs an abandoned cup from your desk. The cup he had gifted you on your 17th birthday. It was covered in flowers and stars, very Matty. Very you. Pouring a healthy amount into the glass, he hands it to you.  

“To shitty situations” He raises it, clinking it against your cup. He takes a swig straight from the bottle. You down the whole thing in one go, wincing as the alcohol burns down your throat. 

“You feel better?” he asks, pouring more into your cup. You nod, before taking another drink. “I just need to get drunk and forget,” you sigh. Matty starts to speak again.

“That's an unhealthy way to go about it. Soon enough I'll be picking you up from corners because you can't handle your liquor. It's a recipe for alcoholism, innit?” you cackle at his words prompting Matty to raise his eyebrows at you.  

“Oh come off it!,” How many times have you been so drunk you couldn't find your own dick if you tried. Sort yourself out before criticizing my drinking habits.” you scoff  

You decide ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis is the right soundtrack for the night. You lay down next to Matty, your shoulders and thighs touching each other. You look up fondly at the dozens of yellow stars littering your ceiling. Reminiscent of your early childhood, you couldn't bear to take them down. You still felt like a child, your heart yearning for the same innocence you no longer possessed. A distinct naïveté you missed dearly. After your breakup with Phillip you'd realized that the world wasn't all it was cut out to be. People wanted, and they took. It didn't matter to them if they hurt others, because as long as they were satiated, nothing else mattered. 

You turn to your left, draping your arm over Mattys stomach. He let out a deep breath, raising his right arm to draw light circles onto your back. His nails had grown out longer than usual, but the sharpness of them was comforting through the thin material of your tank top. The edge of your small twin bed dug into your back. 

The two of you laid like that for hours before sleep took over your body. The stars on the ceiling blurred as your eyes started to shut. You let out a soft hum, settling into Matty even more, holding him close.

You don't know how long he stayed, but he was gone when you woke up. You feel a sticky note attached to your forehead, the glue rubbing off on your skin. You could barely read Mattys erratic handwriting. The note read: you fell asleep, hope your hangover isn't as bad as mine. left you some Advil on your dresser xx. 

Your hand reached next to you, feeling two tablets. You wash them down with water from the sink. Your cell phone lights up with a text from George 

“We’re meeting at Hanns flat, be there in 30,”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The windows were rolled up, trapping the smoke inside. Your eyes were glazed over, barely able to make out Ross’ face in front of you. Watching as Matty took another hit, you made a ‘give it here’ motion at the zoot, prompting him to hand it to you. Rhianna blared through the radio, a far cry from Adams usual taste in music, but no one seemed to care. Even Matty had managed to keep his mouth shut, instead moving his head in time with the music. 

Adam was sitting in the driver's seat, as always. He’d never let anyone else drive his girl, not even Ross. He was insanely protective over his car, even if it was an old piece of junk. 

George was in the passenger seat, holding a pink, polka dotted ashtray in his hand. The colorful ceramic proved quite the contrast against his dark clothes and messy blonde hair. It was a gift from his older sister, and the only ashtray he ever used. 

You were perched in the middle seat, your elbows on the console between Adam and George. Matty sat on your right, and Ross on your left.  

“No joke, I once had a bird offer to give me a footjob. Can you imagine that?” Adam spoke loudly, almost too loud. Ross let out a disgusting snort, the mental image of Adam getting a footjob making him properly lose it. You make a face. 

“That can't feel good at all, innit? Aren't the soles of feet rough?” you ponder. “Only if you have George's hobbit feet, that is,” Matty said, ducking to avoid yet another lighter being chucked at him. You were going to run out of lighters at this rate. 

“I'll show you hobbit feet you fucking cunt,” George retorted, sticking out his tongue like a child.

“I had a girl once who wanted me to properly bite down on her nipples, like hard. Can't imagine how much that would've hurt.” you share. She’d been quite the odd one up until she was in your bed, so you were already expecting some sort of weird kink. Nipple biting was definitely not on that list. Not that you were kink shaming.  

George spoke first: “What d’you mean girl? You're telling me you've been with girls?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Erm, yeah? Didn't I tell you-?” Everyone shook their heads except Matty. You had already told him this story months before, the both of you laughing at your misfortune. Smiling at the fond memory, you meet Ross’ eye. 

“We didn't know you were like, proper gay,” he says quietly, not wanting to sound abrasive. You suck in a deep breath before answering. “I'm not proper anything, and besides,” you point at Matty sitting next to you, “This one’s snogged loads of blokes.”  A collective “What???” fills the car, with everyone's eyes now on Matty. 

“What if I have? It's not my job to notify you of all my sexual endeavors, innit?” Matty looks slightly uncomfortable, giving you a look. You frown at him, and he shakes his head. Slight signs of a smile linger on his face. It's fine he mouths at you, resting his arm on your shoulder. 

The three of them talk loudly over each other, with Ross asking some very explicit questions on the mechanics of gay sex. 

“How do you even, like, properly shag? It's not like you have anything you can shove into the other girl,” Jesus christ. 

Matty taps Ross’ shoulder, bringing the attention to his hands. He brings them up to his mouth, sticking his tongue out between the V-shape his fingers had made. Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, the whole demonstration makes Ross visibly cringe. 

The car suddenly starts. Adam makes the short drive to Carolines, stating that the hotbox was getting to be too much for him. George has a go at his age, calling him an old man. Hann was in fact, about 2 and a half years older than George, and a solid year older than the rest of you. Old man was right. 

You had rolled down the window on Mattys side, hoping some fresh air would help Adams driving skills. The erratic swerving had begun to make you sick. 

Finally trugding up the stairs to the terrace, Matty says something about it being too fucking cold. Ross says “That's the price of being built like a male Kate Moss,” and Matty nearly shoves him down the stairs. 

It is colder than usual, and you had opted for a dark gray zip up, the material hugging you tightly. You were pretty sure it was Mattys. A pair of green wash jeans hung low, revealing the lightning bolt tattoo on your right hip bone. It was a copy of Bowie's on the cover of ‘Aladdin Sane’. You had gotten it done by another one of your mates, Rome, who was an aspiring tattoo artist. It looked a bit shit, the lines slightly crooked, but it was yours. 

You had convinced George and Ross to carry the sofa from the office onto the terrace. They were the tallest and strongest, and Mattys arms would have snapped like twigs if he tried to carry anything, you said to them. George laughed his octave defying laugh, while Ross let out an annoyed grunt, shoving past you. 

Adam was right behind them, carrying a small wooden coffee table. “For you- I know how much you hate sofas,” he says quietly. You called him a softy, but inevitably thanked him for bringing it out. He had his rare sweet moments, and you appreciate them 

Once you had all settled, you took out your tobacco and papes, starting to roll your first cigarette of the night. You honestly needed a break from all the weed, because jesus. 

Matty let out a groan, taking the piss out of you for bringing all that instead of just buying industrials. 

“I know you think you're better than us for rolling, it's quite pretentious.” he sucks in a breath before talking, moving his hands erratically “Don't tell me it ‘tastes better’ because that's simply bollocks, it all tastes the same!” 

“Pretentious? Her? That's rich coming from someone who raves on about William Burroughs like anyone knows who is!” Matty looks hurt, and you give Ross a look that says you really don't know who William Burroughs is?

The conversation continued without you, too preoccupied with rolling to add anything. All was well until George decided to open his giant mouth again. 

“If you're not fully gay,” he started, “how do we know you're not secretly crushing on any of us?” he raised his eyebrows, looking at you expectantly.

You let out a snort, it slowly morphing into laughter until you look at him, his expression deadly serious. 

“You can’t actually mean that?” your voice is slightly hoarse. “For all we know, you could be harboring secret affection for Matty with the amount of times you’ve slept in the same bed.” 

Mattys perks up at this, shooting George a glare that could kill a man. He told him??? 

You don't know what came over you. Maybe it was the weed, maybe you were just groggy from the lingering hangover. You lick the cig closed, setting down next to the others. Uncrossing your legs, you get up and walk towards Matty. You can see the grin plastered onto his face, and he is definitely not sober.

You stumbled over Adam's foot, kicking it out of the way. Ross moved away from Matty, giving you some space. 

The terrace was dark, but the moonlight illuminated some of Mattys features. Specifically, his eyes. They seemed to glow, following your every step toward him. I'll show you secret affection you thought to yourself when your hand made contact with Mattys face. The stubble on his chin scratched your fingers. He never could grow a beard, and the faint shadow was as long as it would get. 

He sat with his legs spread, skin peaking out through the single rip in his jeans. His arms rested on the sofas back, splaying out to the side. He wore a black v-line jumper, the knit of it almost see-through.  

The makeup from the previous day was still smudged on his face, giving him a rockstar-esque look. The eyeshadow framed his eyes, glittering in the faint light. Your hands cupped his face, lightly stroking his jaw. The grin had been wiped off his face the moment you had settled between his legs, kneeling on the edge of the sofa. 

You didn't think, just moved, your lips smashing against each other. It seemed to take Matty by surprise, and it even took him a second before he kissed you back. One thing nagged at you. Why did you like it?

There was no time to think when you heard George wolf whistle at the both of you. 

You want a show, I'll give you a show you thought, slipping in your tongue and taking over the kiss. He seemed into it, but then again, Matty would fuck anything with a pulse. You smile against his mouth at the thought. It suddenly felt hot, even though you were outside. His hand snaked its way into your hair, tugging slightly. This didn't feel platonic. Was it?

“Alright, alright, we didn't sign up for a porno,” Ross says, his hand covering his mouth. You were the one who broke the kiss. Matty let out a soft groan when you parted, loud enough for only you to hear. His eyes pierced yours, and you moved to get off of him. 

Your heart thrummed against your ribcage, and you felt dizzy. What the fuck?

You wiped your mouth, your lipgloss having smeared all over your face. Wiping the back of your sticky hand against the sofa, you turned and walked back to your spot on the table. 

“See! Absolutely no ‘secret affection’ as George so kindly put it.” you say to the group, going back to your pile of fags, taking one and lighting it. If you had looked at Matty instead of being preoccupied with Hanns bickering about the prissy new manager, you would have noticed a faint shade of red caressing his cheeks. He felt around for his own cigarettes, and took out a pack of parliaments. Spotting the lighter next to you, he reached for it, lighting the cig as he inhaled the smoke eagerly.

It was already half two when the five of you finally piled back into Hanns car. The prominent stench of weed made you scrunch up your nose. You decide to light a cigarette in the car despite various protests and threats to your life if you even dared to ash onto the leather seats. Switching seats with Matty, you ash out the window instead, resting your head against the rim of the car. 

Ross and George were having yet another meaningless debate on whether mixing ketchup and mayo was a cardinal sin or totally acceptable. Every other word was an insult, and you knew they would never come to an agreement, ever.

You had already established that you’d be sleeping over at Mattys, saving Adam time and petrol not having to drive both of you home separately. Denise and Tim were out on a press tour, so he had the house to himself. 

His room was dark, the curtains drawn shut. If you knew Matty, you knew he hated the big light with a burning passion. Instead, a small lamp was turned on in the corner, illuminating the various posters that littered his wall. Band posters, prints, tapestries, the occasional quote. Everything screamed Matty

His room was filled with so much music. CD’s, vinyls, even the odd cassette tape. His purple record player sat on top of a dresser next to his desk, surrounded by various small trinkets of his. It was his prized possession, a gift from his mother for his 14th birthday.  

You had already helped yourself to a cola from his fridge downstair. His house was huge, way bigger than your own. Your parents weren't actors, after all. The walls of his room were stained towards the corners, just another side effect of Mattys near constant chain smoking. His bed was big, and you both fit comfortably on it. The wardrobe next to it had a pile of your own clothes in it, but none to sleep in. Your eyes dart around the room looking for one of his to wear, landing on his bright pink durex t-shirt. He had worn it once to school, promptly getting kicked out of literature class by a very conservative Mrs. Sexton.

Soft music was playing in the background as you unloaded your bag onto Matty’s insanely cluttered desk. Out came multiple pens, makeup, not one, not two, but three lighters, and finally, makeup wipes.    

You sat on the ground in front of his full length mirror, wiping at your eyes and face. Matty was making the bed, giving the both of you each your own duvet, a must after too many fights over the blanket. You weren't a peaceful sleeper, constantly tossing and turning, occasionally even kicking Matty in the back. 

Washing your face, you hear the bathroom door click open. Matty went and sat on the closed toilet lid next to you.

“Hand me my toothbrush, will you? And some toothpaste.” he asked, stretching his hand out. You do, even wetting the toothbrush for him. 

He sat there, brushing his teeth and flipping through a recent issue of playboy while you put moisturizer on, and then a serum. 

“I dont get how you can be arsed to put all that shit on your face, it takes way too long,” his comment makes you roll your eyes at him in the reflection. 

“Not everyone is naturally blessed with clear skin like you, people like me have to put effort into their appearance, knobhead.” A wave of insecurity hits you as you inspect the acne on your face. 

You had been a chronic face picker in your early teenage years, and the consequences of that were gnarly acne scars covering most of your face. They were not prominent, but they were there. 

Matty was fortunate enough to have had maybe three zits ever, his clear skin the stuff of dreams. 

Matty watches you pick yourself apart in the mirror. He hated when you did that. It made his heart ache in his chest. He wished you could see what he saw. What did he see?

“You’re quite beautiful, really,” he says, making eye contact with you through the mirror. You’re taken aback, not quite sure how to respond. You open your mouth to speak. 

“Oh bugger off,” you say, your voice breathy and annoyed. You didn't want to sound annoyed, it just came out that way. 

Matty raises both his hands in defeat, and spits the toothpaste into the toilet bowl, flushing. The hairbands sitting on the bathroom counter eventually end up in your hair, holding together two braids on either side of your face. You stare at the mirror one more time, examining yourself. The pink fabric of your (well, Mattys) shirt clung to you like it did Matty. Taking off your bra, you go back into his room. He had changed into a loose Kiss t-shirt and black boxers. The light of the corner lamp helped you find your phone, sitting on the nightstand next to you. 

The atmosphere was calm, calm enough that you’d almost forgotten about the kiss. Almost. 

Matty reached over to turn the lamp off, lighting a candle for light. Cinnamon. 

“You know it's dangerous to sleep with candles lit? We could catch on fire and die,” Matty had rolled over on his side, now facing you. A grin spread onto his face. 

“If it kept me from ever seeing Hanns ugly mug ever again, i’d gladly let cinnamon spice scented flames burn me to death,” 

You giggle at his words. Poor Adam, always taking the worst of Mattys jokes, if you could even call them that. Accepting his decision to keep the candle lit, you pull the blanket over your shoulders. Your eyes shut and you can feel butterflies in your stomach. Butterflies, really? Jesus fucking christ. 

You're scared to open your eyes, scared to even look at Matty. Maybe it was a mistake. He's your best mate. That kiss didn't mean anything, especially not to him.

A million thoughts race through your head, and you shove them into a small corner of your mind. Ignore ignore ignore, it didn't mean anything. He's just some wanker who picked you up at a bus stop three years ago and somehow became your best mate. He's just some guy you share a bed with sometimes. He's just some guy who lights your spliffs for you. He's just some guy who you kissed on a terrace overlooking the city. 

Fuck. 

[abiiors]

three's a party 🍸// george daniel x reader x ross macdonald

a/n: hi. thank you so much to my darlings @bookish-strawberry and @ughgoaway for helping me with some of the scenes!!! this is quite tame compared to some of the others i read for "research" but it is still quite...porny. this note is so long, but i'm just rambling because i'm nervous!!! anyway, here, have this unholy piece of writing with barely any plot

cw: threesome (obv), "good girl" and other feminine words/pronouns, uhhhh...yeah, just. general nastiness.

wc: 3.6k

the pub lights are dim, ambient. people chatter around you in low volume, a friendly humdrum of couples out on date nights and old friends catching up, it’s nice—this place. the food is good, the alcohol is even better; the playlist is just the right mix of sensual and exciting. absolutely perfect for a casual first date.

except for the man in front of you who drones on and on and on about one thing or the other—none of which you have given two shits about in your entire existence. but now you have to sit there and pretend that the local football team—the bulls or the foxes or some other inane animal—are the most riveting conversation you’ve ever had. 

you also have to pretend like you haven’t been checking out other people sitting at the bar, laughing and joking and having way more fun than you in general—the group of drunk girls out on a friday night, couples on dates, two men sat at the edge of the bar who haven't stopped glancing your way since you first walked in.

a blond and a brunet, one with a sharp, clean-shaven face, the other with a softer face and a thick, dark beard. one with close-cropped and buzzed hair, the other with long hair tied up. two ends of the spectrum, yet they both have the same aura of je ne sais quoi about them. it’s tempting, distracting. and certainly a million times better than whatever’s happening in front of you. 

every time one of them looks over at you, you lower your eyes coyly, pretend to be engrossed in a conversation with your date—nodding along to whatever he’s saying and laughing when he pauses expectantly. it’s truly a testament to his intelligence that he hasn’t caught up to your little game yet. 

the blond man looks at you again, intense eyes and a full pink mouth. his eyes linger, lazily staring you from head to toe in your tight black first-date dress. then out the corner of your eye, you watch him mumble something to his friend. 

he’s a bit subtle, turning only slightly and checking you out from the corner of his eyes, making sure he doesn’t get caught every time you look over in their general direction. 

your date clears his throat. 

“so i was thinking we could get one more drink and…take this back to my place?” 

well… shit

“i had a lot of fun…” you begin, trying to hide the wince in your words but your date’s face falls as realisation finally dawns. “but i don’t—”

“so you’ve wasted my time then,” he cuts you off, nostrils flaring in anger as he clutches his beer pint harder than necessary. 

“excuse me?”

“bitch,” he spits under his breath yet you hear it clearly. 

all you can do is roll your eyes at his petulance. the glasses clatter as he stands up abruptly, gathering the attention of a few people nearby. you’re beyond feeling any sort of embarrassment; and why should you? it’s not you making a scene. 

“classy,” you mutter, taking a leisurely sip of your aperol spritz.

it’s great, no reason for you to ruin a perfectly good evening for a little bitch baby. in your peripheral vision, the two men snicker. the rational part of your brain knows they’re laughing at an inside joke; nothing to do with you. but your delusional brain can’t stop imagining the two of them listening in on your conversation, smirking at your date’s little temper tantrum. you take your own sweet time finishing your drink after he leaves. he’s already out of your mind before he’s even halfway across the pub. you can finally indulge in your other pursuits after all.

“well, that was a pathetic date."

it's after fifteen minutes when you've sought solace in the first floor balcony of the pub. a few people loiter in the nooks and corners, making out and sneaking quick puffs of cigarettes, some wait for their turn to use the loo. some linger in search of peace.

you focus your attention on the stranger.

his voice is deep, deeper than you would have imagined. there’s a gravelly and rough edge to it that makes his words skitter down your bones. even just the way he walks towards you, slow and leisurely, has you hypnotised and transfixed on him. but you won’t be swayed so easily. 

“are you always this straightforward with strangers?” 

he comes to a stop a few inches away from you and leans against the railing; his body mirroring yours. his spicy cologne permeates the air around you. it's a struggle to not inhale sharply and get a lungful of it. even in your heels, you’re a good few inches shorter than him. 

“no,” he shrugs and the movement makes his arm brush against yours ever so slightly, “i guess you caught my eye.”

you attribute the goosebumps on your arms to the chilly night air even as a small voice in your head reminds you that it’s august. 

“george,” he extends a hand. it’s big, rough-looking with callouses all over his palms. either he’s a gym rat with pretty show muscles, or… you can’t exactly place the or. but it leads to quite a few interesting theories. 

“your…friend didn’t come out with you?” 

the man—george—raises an eyebrow, either at the way you leave his hand hanging in mid-air or at the mention of his friend but he does a rather good job of hiding his surprise. if he even felt any, to begin with.

“why? you’re more interested in my friend?”

a small part of you almost purrs in delight at the tinge of jealousy in his tone. good, possessive men know how to make nights like these into memorable ones. his fingers curl slightly, ready to put the extended hand down. the nicotine stains on them should have put you off a long time ago. instead, you find yourself looking at those fingers; imagining things you really shouldn’t. 

“you always answer questions with more questions?” you bite your bottom lip, letting just the hint of a smile ghost over your mouth. let him work to figure out your tone. your intentions.  

george chuckles deeply, sucking air between his teeth, and about to say something when you hear the second set of footsteps. these are imperceptibly heavier, almost like you know who it is…

a smirk curls up your mouth as george turns around to look at—

“ross…” he says quietly. 

possessive men know how to have wild nights.

possessive men are also…incredibly easy to predict.

george is behind you, pressed up against your naked ass, hard and thick. the only thing that separates you are his cotton brief. it only took you fifteen minutes to decide to take both the men home with you. and judging from the minimum resistance you got from either of them, one thing is clear—this isn’t their first rodeo.

“you feel this, darling?,” george whispers, mouth brushing over the shell of your ear while rolling your nipple softly between his fingers. 

it’s a lot of stimulation. it’s the good kind of stimulation, the kind that has your toes curling and your thighs shaking. and if it weren’t for the other man kneeling between your legs, holding you up with his hand on your hips, you would have fallen to your knees a long time ago. 

“mm–yes, fuck, it feels good,” you moan, head rolling back to rest against george’s chest. your fingers are tangled up in ross’ hair, long graceful fingers twisting and turning traces of his soft hair between them, guiding him as he licks and sucks your clit until you’re nothing but a wet trembling mess. 

ross won’t be outdone so easily. he hums against you, sending vibrations that shoot through your entire body at lightning speed. “is he making you feel better than i am, baby?” he pouts, stopping entirely. 

his beard glistens in the ambient lights of the room as he stares at you with intense, blown-out eyes. a whine escapes you, your fingers tighten in his hair—tugging at it harshly and making him groan. it’s so close to your cunt, enough for you feel it but not close enough. you writhe against george, trying to thrust your hips back into ross’ face, trying to get him to continue. but george tsks. 

“not before you answer him, baby.” his fingers are back to pinching your nipples; pain and pleasure blending in together in a heady mix. “don’t we deserve to know?”

his voice is gruffer than before, barely restrained—a man so used to commanding people that it rolls off his tongue effortlessly. 

ross smirks when you mumble something incoherently, ready to finish what he started but george is not satisfied. “use your words, darling.”

it sends a spark of desperate annoyance through you, clearing the fog in your brain. “ross is better,” you grit out, guiding the man back between your legs smirking at the way george tenses behind you. 

for someone who seems so calm and composed he certainly has a competitive streak…

ross grazes his teeth against you, licking it after—almost like a reward for declaring him the winner. you throw a leg over his shoulder, hissing at the way his tongue has better access now, crying out when he swipes his fingers against your folds almost lazily. 

you suck in a sharp breath, ready to cry out again but the scream dies in your throat. rather, it’s strangled—literally—by george wrapping his free hand around it, applying pressure to the sides. 

“you want to be a brat?” he tsks again, “she wants to be a brat, ross.” 

ross laughs breathlessly, letting go of you for just a second, “you’re just a sore loser.” he smirks, eyes alight with mirth. there’s a hint of danger in them, not the kind you sense in george—one that comes with a touch of sadism. ross’ brand of danger feels more arrogant. someone who knows what effect he has on people, on women. he’s not a taker. he’s a giver. and right now, he looks at you like he’d give anything to watch you fall apart with his name on your lips. 

the almost lack of oxygen has your head spinning, combined with the knot pulled taut in your stomach—it’s almost impossible to stand up, to make your legs hold you up. but that’s what george is here for. 

his fingers adapt a rougher pace, pinching and flicking your nipples, matching ross’s movements. your mind feels like it’s torn both ways, fighting hard to keep track of two sensations, two feelings. it’s too much.

a string of curses fall from your lips. “gonna cum,” you plead, struggling against ross, desperately trying to get more and more and so much more. “can i cum, please. please–fuck.”

“what should we do, george?” ross hums, ignoring you entirely. his nails dig into your ass, feeling up the curves and the firm muscles. you are nothing but a toy in his hands, for him to use and control. all your bossiness from before melts away as soon as george snakes a hand around your waist, stroking ross’ head and guiding it the way he wants to. 

ross doesn’t resist, he only chuckles, making you cry out pleas once again. 

“have you earned it, sweetheart?” george asks, whispery rough voice burrowing on the insides of your skull. 

have you? 

you nod, or try to at least. it’s hard when your head rests limply on his chest, throat gripped between his hands. 

“please, yes. i’ll do what you want, pl–fuck, fuck.”

“whatever we want?” 

“whatever yo–you want.”

“go on then,” george pinches your nipple, twisting it between his fingers, “give him a taste.”

he’s barely halfway through the sentence when you scream out incoherently, falling apart as waves after waves of pleasure hit you all at once. everything goes white for a split second, all that remains is intoxicating pleasure. you have no sense of time, of self. only that one man holds you up as the other laps at your folds greedily, licking away every last drop of what you have to offer. 

“want a taste?” ross smirks. his voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere under water. you’re unsure if you can stand up on your own just yet. vestiges of the orgasm course through you, heady and hot. “she’s fucking sweet, george, like honey.”

ross stands up, right in front of you, tall and imposing. and for the first time, you’re between both of them, feeling their sweaty skin on yours, inhaling them greedily.

“open your mouth,” he commands, fingers taking hold of your chin and roughly tilting it up. you know what’s coming as you watch the sinister half-smile on his face. and oh how delightlfully right you are. 

the moment you open your mouth for him, ross spits in it; saliva mixed with your slick still coating his tongue. 

“good girl,” he whispers, turning your face to george who captures your mouth in a rough kiss. his tongue flicks on the insides of your mouth, searching, tasting you and ross together. he moans, satisfied. “now about that promise…”

“be a good girl and get on all fours” 

it’s a shock to you how ross takes charge when he wants to. george doesn’t contradict him, he only watches with vague amusement as you try holding yourself up on shaking arms and legs, drenched in sweat and thighs sticky with your own slick. 

your entire body buzzes with adrenaline, shivers racking down your spine, still needy for more and more, still wanting to please the men who have been pleasing you for… what feels like hours now. 

“now,” george says, walking up to you and stopping just in front of you, “you can take both of us, can’t you?”

you peer up at george, tall and imposing george who looks at you with such blatant lust that it makes a tiny moan slip out of you. you can, you have been dying to do just that. now you look at him through your eyelashes and through the sweaty hair sticking to your forehead, falling in your eyes. 

“yes,” you nod eagerly, “please, yes.” 

the men smile, all teeth and hardness and intensity—it’s intoxicating. almost hypnotising, you get on your knees, hand drifting between your legs one more time just to feel the friction again but ross is quicker. 

“ah–ah!” he quickly catches your wrist, before it’s even reached past your navel. “that’s our job, darling. all you need to do is get on all fours and look pretty.”

“but she already is so pretty,” george tsks, palming himself through his briefs. his cock is a stark, thick outline that stands out, making you drool. if he already looks so big and delicious then how good would it be to feel him on your tongue and stretching out your mouth?

the moment stretches on—you on all fours, on trembling, shaky limbs, waiting there like a good little slut for either one of these men to fill you up. 

george continues to play with himself, fingers dipping in and out of the waistband of his underwear, touching and teasing. until finally he pulls his boxers down. you watch, transfixed as george shamelessly pumps himself in front of you, head thrown back, throaty moans echoing in the room as he slides his fist around his cock. you stare, eager and waiting, almost leaning forward. 

behind you, ross is silent. you can almost imagine him staring at the scene in front of him in awe and lust. you try to imagine it from his perspective. your dripping swollen cunt right in front of him growing wetter still the more you watch george. 

“don’t tease,” you almost whine, unable to take more of this. you need to know what he tastes like. and you need it now. 

“eager, are we?” george asks, walking up to you. “are you not pleasing her enough, ross?” he tuts and ross chuckles; throaty and distracted. 

you get little warning before you feel ross sliding a finger up your slit, lazily collecting your wetness and then the tell-tale sound of his tongue lapping it up from his fingers. it’s filthy and disgusting, it makes you arch your back and drives you almost crazy with want. 

“i could do better than your hand.” your grin matches george’s who comes to a stop in front of you. 

“guess she likes me better, ross.”

ross huffs, “we’ll see.”

before you have the chance to respond, ross draws a hiss of pleasure out of you. his length drags against your cunt, almost between your ass cheeks, sliding just the tip in. no further. red, hot need spears through you. if the men are determined to tease and taunt you then it’s for you to take matters into your own hands. 

before george can registers it, you cup a hand around his ass, pulling him forward until his cock practically rests on your face. 

a thick vein runs along the side, pulsating, practically inviting you to trace it with your sharp fingernail. you let your tongue swirl over his slit, humming at the salty taste of his precum. george moans as the vibrations of your hum hit. ross moves his hips slowly, almost pulling out before slamming into you fully. the force of it has you choking on george, gagging around him, drooling messily. 

“breathe,” he commands softly, stroking your hair. you do as he tells you, relaxing your throat more and letting his weight rest on your tongue. 

the sides of your mouth burn from the stretch, black, glittery mascara tears stain your face. and yet all you care about is this, here, now. it’s fullness like you’ve never experienced before, delicious and thick, drawing out gasps and moans from you that mix with his grunts.

“such a perfect girl,” he coos, “isn’t she ross? doesn’t she feel fucking great?” 

ross hums behind you, thrusting into you again at a steady pace. shameless need and lust pools in your belly, bleeds through your veins as you trace along george’s cock with your tongue. his fingers remain tangled in your hair, guiding you, commanding you to please him as he wishes.

you hollow our your cheeks, licking and sucking until his hips move in much the same pace as ross’ do. 

ross’ hand snakes up your waist, between your legs again, finding your clit again to rub and pinch, to make you whine. each one of his flicks makes you moan around george, sending small hums of pleasure right up his spine. he looks blissed out, head rolling and eyes half-lidded. a surge of pride runs through you at the sight. 

ross’ fingers dig into your hips, bruising the soft flesh. twinges of pain intertwine with sparks of pleasure as he pushes in, stretching you out and filling you in. 

“taking me so well, sweetheart,” he praises. the term of endearment from his mouth makes your knees weak and your legs tremble but ross holds you up, slamming into you until he bottoms out again and again. 

flesh slaps against flesh—rhythmic sounds punctuated by guttural grunts. the position you’re in allows ross to thrust deeper each time, hitting your g-spot repeatedly. if your mouth weren’t otherwise occupied, he would have had you mewling by now. but that doesn’t mean you don’t let out the occasional whimpers as you continue to bob your head up and down george’s dick. 

the man is close, you can tell. his cock twitches and spasms in your mouth. he has lost some of his rhythm, hips bucking wildly as he chases his pleasure. you can’t help but caress the base of his cock with your hand, moving it lower to softly squeeze his balls. 

“shit–shit,” he curses loudly, “do that again.”

so you oblige, letting your nails graze on the sensitive skin. within seconds, you feel his hold tightening in your hair. george fucks your mouth with wild abandon, careless thrusts—he couldn't care less about the drool dribbling down your chin, about your tear-stained face. the burn around your lips.

“gonna cum, darling, doing so well,” he grounds out. your own body mirrors the feelings as ross continues to thrust faster and faster. 

the knot in your stomach tightens, blood pumps through your veins, infused with lightning until the bitter-salty taste of cum fills your mouth. george cums, groaning loudly and shooting spurts of his release down your throat that you lap up hungrily. some of it dribbles down the side of your chin but you don’t swallow just yet. instead, you open your mouth wide open for him to have a look. 

“you’re killing me,” he swears, trying to get a grip on himself. only then do you swallow, whining loudly when ross pinches your clit, kneading the bundle of nerves in rough circles. 

“go on,” he commands, “cum for us. wanna feel you around me before i fill you up.”

it only takes one more thrust from ross before you’re almost falling down face first from the force of the orgasm that hits you. vaguely you’re aware of ross cumming inside you, of it spilling down your thighs, mixing with your own release. vaguely you’re aware of george falling to his knees in front of you, legs still spasming as he watches you fall apart again and again. 

you cry out something unintelligent—perhaps their names, perhaps something else. the world blacks out, until slow, blurred images creep back into your line of sight. 

the beginning of the night, the pathetic date is long gone from your mind. right now all you can think of is ecstacy.

and then perhaps a round two.

lemme know what you think <3

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @beachesgetpeaches, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855

add yourself to the taglist

[tillthelandslide]

To Matty: thank you for always providing me songs that mirror how im feeling, for finding the words to say when I can't find them myself. For showing us that it's okay not to be perfect all the time and for showing us that people will love you even when you make a mistake. For teaching me that you should never be quiet, that you should always speak up, and fight for what you believe in. For teaching me that no matter how hard life gets, no matter what shit it throws our way, that we will never give up and how friends and family keep you going. For giving me a family that loves you and the boys and this band and your music, just as much as I do 🩷

To Ross: thank you for showing me how deeply I can feel and how deeply I can love. For showing me the value of friendship and being a fierce and loyal friend to the boys I love so dearly. For showing me that there is a grace and a beauty in being the one that supports, the one that isn't always at the front, the one that loves in the background. For providing me with songs that move me. For showing me that, in the end, love is all that matters🩷. Also thank you for making me realise I have a type: bassists 😂

To George: thank you for being the brains behind the operation, there would be no 1975 if it wasn't for you and I truly cannot thank you enough. Thank you for showing me what true friendship is and for giving me a reason to survive: you and your band.

To Hann: thank you for being the brunt of many of Matty's jokes that I cannot help but laugh at. Thank you for showing me the power of grace and quiet and calm. Thank you for showing me what true and life long friendship looks like. Thank you for giving me some fucking sick guitar riffs to rock out to. And thank you for loving the boys the exact same way I do.

To the band: you are the best thing that has happened to me and to so many others. You have shaped me and my life for 13 years and I do not know what life looks like without you. Enjoy this break, rest and relax because you deserve it. We will be waiting, loving you as always, forever and forevermore.

I love the house that we live in, And I love you all too much

You guys are the best thing that ever happened to me

[undoing-anobrains]

you bring me home - matty healy

part four

pairing- matty x f!oc

wc- 3.4K

summary- following her fiancé suddenly calling off their engagement caroline daniel finds herself moving in with her brother and his best friend who she had a huge crush on as a teenager just in time for a worldwide lockdown.

Something had shifted within Caroline following the night she spent connecting with Matty. A change which wasn't unfamiliar to her, in fact it was all too memorable. It was like finally coming home, like remembering what warmth feels like after a seemingly permanent coldness. And Caroline was absolutely petrified by the sudden resurgence of emotions she had buried a long time ago.

He had just taken pity on her, Caroline reiterated to herself. Like any decent human being he had comforted her when she was evidently distraught. Matty had only been acting out of obligation because they were somewhat friends and more importantly she was his best friend's little sister. His words didn't have any deeper meaning, he was just an inherently good soul.

If she let herself entertain her delusions she would be no better than her ex she mused. Even if he had never really been committed to her, she had given her everything to that relationship and she couldn't possibly move on that quickly. But Matty was frustratingly conscientious and always checking in on her so it was impossible to avoid him, despite knowing she had to if she wanted to prevent her little resurfaced crush from developing any further.

So that's what prompted Caroline to come back to the hospital to work on the unit after leaving to pursue research the year prior. Coming back to work on the front lines in the middle of a global pandemic was stressful but she found it gave her mind the necessary rest from her own problems – it was much easier to face and solve other people's than her own. And it gave her a sense of purpose in a time where she truly felt lost. She could be a friendly face, a comforting presence for her patients, she knew how to do that. What she wasn't so sure of these days was who she really was underneath all of that. The studio is alive when Caroline returns every evening, a stark contrast to how things were at the start. It's buzzing with energy and she somehow walks in to the boys doing something stupid every time that makes her genuinely question their sanity before falling into side splitting laughter with them over their antics. It's the good kind of laughter Caroline notes, the kind that you can still feel in the slight aches of your ribs hours later - serving a very needed reminder that it was real.

She can handle her highly inappropriate yet persisting feelings towards Matty in small doses. Even though those small doses are concentrated ones where he's in constantly in her orbit. Although if she's being completely transparent it would be more accurate to say she's in his orbit. For Matty is the sun. Radiant and blinding. Luring people in with his warmth and for the most part unknowingly the centre of everything. At least for Caroline because in the heart of her world Matty was the brightest star, an ineffable illumination of everything good in the world even if he purposefully extinguished it to the prying, outside eye. Every interaction with him was akin to stepping into the gentle embrace of dawn after a night filled with pitch black, stormy skies.

He had seriously committed to his unspoken promises of reviving Caroline's genuine smile and expelling the lingering misery she still experienced. His laughter was everywhere all of the time – occupying every neuron, every auditory pathway until it eventually overwhelmed her auditory cortex with its captivating and melodic quality. It was as if his mirth had the ability to dispel the shadows, coaxing a smile from the corners of her lips even in the gloomiest of moments. Matty had that kind of power over people. The power to kindle a spark within them that soon spread like uncontrollable wildfire. Then when you pair that with a long lived crush still breathing...well it only amplified that effect of his.

But just as the sun graces the world with its light it also casts shadows. And in the gentle radiance of his presence, there existed the shadow of her unspoken, resurfacing feelings. A dichotomy of warmth and yearning, a constant tug of war between being content with their shared moments in private and longing for something more. It was a paradox she navigated, for she knew that while he was the sun that illuminated her world, he was also a star she could only admire from afar.

As Caroline returned to her work at the hospital, an unexpected transformation seemed to weave its way into the fabric of her relationship with Matty. The dynamics between them shifted, evolving into a state of familiarity and comfort that bordered on domesticity. It was as if the unspoken connection they shared had blossomed into a new phase, one where their interactions were marked by a sense of intimacy that transcended the already blurry bounds of their friendship. The transition was subtle, like the gradual turning of seasons, but it was unmistakably present.

The first time Matty made her coffee, Caroline was half-asleep and unsuspecting. As she shuffled into the kitchen, eyes half-lidded, she was met with the sight that would etch itself into her memory. There stood Matty, a vision in tousled hair and sleep-drawn features. His right hand held her travel mug, his fingers wrapped around the vessel with a certain tenderness that belied his dishevelled appearance.

The corners of his lips curved upward into a sleepy grin as his gaze met hers. "Mornin'," he greeted, the warmth in his voice a stark contrast to the chill present due to the early hour. He extended the mug toward her, a silent offering that carried more weight than words ever could. "Thought you'd need this."

The weight of his gesture, of the effort he had taken to ensure her morning started with comfort, settled over her like a cosy blanket. She accepted the mug with a quiet gratitude, her fingers brushing against his briefly in the exchange. The world outside may have been chaotic, but in this small moment, it was as if time stood still.

Caroline cradled the mug in her grasp as she studied Matty's features in all their morning glory. He was somehow still beautiful despite it being evident that he hadn't yet slept a wink – clearly having spent all night abuzz working on something for the album. Bringing the brew to her lips she took a sip of the hot liquid and was pleasantly surprised. It wasn't as though she doubted Matty's ability to make a good cup of coffee but considering he typically made his a lot sweeter than she would normally take hers, Caroline was impressed that he noticed those little details.

"Good stuff, huh?"

Caroline smiled in return, a soft warmth settling in her chest. "Yeah, really good. Thanks."

His smile widened, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "I'm wasted making music."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh definitely, I'm sure Café Nero would be dying to have you back if you ever get bored of being my personal barista and world famous musician."

"Cheeky," he goads "was going to make you another tomorrow morning but I think I'll just sleep in instead."

Caroline held back a laugh "I won't force you but you'd be earning a lot of points in my books Matthew."

His expression softened "well then...I'll be waiting, same time tomorrow."

Mornings follow suit with a sense of anticipation, as Caroline would find herself waking up to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the studio. She would step into the kitchen to find Matty, already awake, a warm smile playing on his lips as he handed her a cup of her favourite brew. Initially she had thanked him for the coffee but persuaded him not to lose sleep over her but she hadn't been very successful as the following mornings Matty greeted her with her travel mug full, his own mug of tea and the knowledge that he usually went right back to bed once she left for work everyday. Slowly and not without complaints he adopted her sleep schedule – or at least the early morning aspect. When Caroline asked him why he was making such an effort his answer rendered her speechless. It was the only time of day during the week which he got to spend with only her. That he'd grown fond of their midnight ramblings but these days they were so inseparable with George and Louis that the mornings were regretfully their only time alone.

The boys, in their own way, embraced this shift. Evenings greeted Caroline with the comforting scent of food fresh out of the oven. It was nothing spectacular but they managed to not burn anything and it was the sentiment that touched Caroline. She would have been happy to cook for them all in the evenings regardless of her just arriving home from work but that suggestion had hardly left her lips before it was meant with protests. It was rather sweet how they all insisted that Caroline deserved a rest after the long days on her feet.

When she'd returned to dinner at the studio the first time she had been shocked to say the least because none of the boys were even close to amateur chefs. In fact her first reaction had been to raise a brow in mock scepticism and quip "You lot? Cook dinner? Are you trying to give me food poisoning?"

To which Matty retaliated, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh, come on! I can cook, you know."

With a well-practiced sense of theatricality, Caroline countered, "Right, and I'm the Queen of England."

The friendly sparring continued, each word exchanged a playful volley.

"Literally the only times I've ever seen you cook for yourself the smoke alarm thought we were under attack," she recalled, a grin playing on her lips.

Matty met her accusation with a smirking defence. "I was just testing the fire safety measures. A responsible citizen, that's me."

And then came George's orchestrated declaration, wrapped in an exaggerated façade of admiration as he tried not to cackle. "Ah, of course! You, responsible. Truly the pinnacle role model Mattthew."

So when Caroline came back to dinner made every evening like her life was an episode of some bizarre gender swapped fifties fever dream she accepted it happily so as to not set the boys off on a rant about how they couldn't possibly make Caroline, the resident genius and hardworking radiation therapist cook her own meals and continue to work once she came home. Even when she pointed out that they were literally also working all day they quickly brushed that argument under the rug, informing her that adding the finishing touches to an album was nowhere near comparable with saving lives and treating cancer patients daily.

The studio had become a haven, not just for the boy's creative endeavours but for the shared moments of respite they found in each other's company. Matty, in particular, seemed to take on a new role as a constant presence in her life. During her work hours, she would receive unexpected FaceTime calls, snippets of songs from their upcoming album playing softly in the background as Matty's voice offered glimpses into their world of music and inspiration. Sometimes all of them would be there on a call with her when she eventually got her lunch just to keep her company because Caroline had mentioned in passing how unsettling she found the otherwise empty and sterile canteen.

Caroline cherished these stolen moments, the sense of connection deepening with each passing day. It was as if Matty was inviting her into a space that was uniquely theirs, a realm where the boundaries of friendship blurred into something more profound. The snippets of songs he shared felt like secrets whispered in her ear, a testament to the trust he placed in her. In the evenings, the studio transformed into a realm of games and laughter. Game nights became a ritual, although putting four highly competitive people against each other often ended in disaster and strings of light hearted but intense insults.

The evening sun cast a warm, golden hue across the studio as Caroline stepped through the door, shedding the weight of a long day at work. The scent of familiarity enveloped her as she kicked off her shoes and set her bag down. The studio seemed to exhale a sigh of relief as she returned, as if it had been waiting for her presence to fill its spaces once more.

Caroline's tired gaze fell upon the inviting sight before her: the cosy living area adorned with soft cushions and warm throws, the gentle crackling of a fire in the fireplace, and, most importantly, the figure of Matty, seated on the couch with a book in hand.

She offered him a weary smile, her shoulders relaxing as the strains of the day began to dissipate. Matty looked up from his book, his eyes lighting up as they met hers. "Long day at work?" he asked, closing the book and setting it aside.

Caroline let out a soft chuckle, the tension in her features easing as she moved toward the couch. "You have no idea," she admitted, sinking into the plush cushions beside him. The warmth emanating from the fireplace and his proximity seemed to chase away the remnants of stress that had clung to her throughout the day. 

Matty reached for a nearby throw blanket, unfolding it and draping it over both of them. It was a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes about his attentiveness. "Well, you're home now," he said softly, tucking the blanket around them both. "And I've got the perfect remedy for a long day."

Her curiosity piqued, Caroline turned to him, a playful glint in her eyes. "Oh, do tell. Is it a secret Healy remedy?"

Matty's grin was infectious as he leaned in conspiratorially. "It's simple, really," he began, his voice low as if sharing a well-kept secret. "I might have done a tesco delivery with a stash of your favourite snacks earlier and then you have good company."

Caroline chuckled, the exhaustion of the day giving way to a sense of contentment. "And I suppose you're the 'good company' part?"

Matty's feigned offense was accompanied by an exaggerated gasp. "Well, if you must ask, I suppose I can reluctantly fill that role," he replied, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

Once again Matty had surprised Caroline with a sweet gesture and it really wasn't making trying to suppress her feelings for him simple. Luckily for her Louis shortly joined them after he got off the phone with his girlfriend and George came back minutes later. Caroline was grateful for them being there because she didn't trust herself to be alone with Matty at the moment - even if her mind was well aware of the fact that starting anything with him was a bad idea, her heart was screaming at her, begging her to throw logic and reason out the window. 

The four of them curled up in a messy pile of blankets on the couch and Matty turned on some random movie that Caroline had never seen before but didn't care about enough to know the name of.  As much as she tried to focus on the screen Caroline found her gaze kept drifting to her right where Matty was curled up alarmingly close to her.

Their legs were thrown all over the place, even on top of each other. Matty's right leg was drooped across George as he also snuggled into the left side of his torso. Louis was on the other side of Caroline and he had the most space by far and also the most pillows. Initially Matty had been leaning over Caroline in an attempt to snatch one of them from his brother's grasp but Louis hadn't let any of them go. Merely sending Caroline a knowing look as Matty then resorted to using Caroline's shoulder as a headrest. Feeling his warm breath on her skin sent Caroline's brain into overdrive as it struggled to function. His presence and the lack of space between them was overwhelming, goosebumps forming on her skin in anticipation. 

Caroline couldn't keep her eyes off of Matty but it seemed to be reciprocated. Occasionally she'd force herself to look at the screen but his eyes always drifted back to the man currently resting his head on her shoulder. He was truly captivating, even more up close when you could see all the intricacies and tiny details like the small freckles from the sun or the soft pink flush that spread across his cheeks whenever they locked gaze. And Matty's close study of her features, as if he was trying to commit her to memory had Caroline losing her mind. There was a tenderness to his expression - as if he was observing a beautiful piece of art and not a jaded shell of a woman whose eyebags grew and darkened by the day with a practically permanent indent across the bridge of her nose from the pressure of her protective mask digging into it all day at work.

When the movie ended George let out a soft yawn and rubbed his bleary eyes "I think I'm going to head up to bed, see you lot in the morning." They said goodnight to him and Caroline didn't fail to point out that he wouldn't see her because she'd be long gone. Then despite looking awake as ever Louis rose from the sofa and announced that he was off as well. Sending a cheeky wink in Caroline's direction when Matty wasn't paying attention on his way out. He knew exactly what he was doing when up and left claiming to need to sleep and now Caroline was alone. Alone, with Matty . Alone with someone who she had spent such a large portion of her life in love with.

"You're comfy," Matty said quietly, almost like he was too scared to say it any louder.

Caroline's chest grew heavier at that. Suddenly everything was weighing her down and she was terrified. It felt like her heart was slamming against her chest so rapidly that it would burst through her sternum with ease.

But it was all silence after that until Matty broke it. "Caro," he began, his voice a conspiratorial whisper as they lounged in the living area of the studio, "I've been thinking."

Caroline's eyebrows quirked in curiosity, her gaze meeting his with a mixture of intrigue and amusement. "That's rare."

Matty's grin widened, his enthusiasm contagious. "How about we do something... a bit out of the ordinary?"

A bemused smile tugged at the corners of Caroline's lips. "And what exactly do you have in mind?"

Matty's eyes twinkled as he leaned in closer, his voice taking on a dramatic flair. "A fort," he declared, his tone hushed as if revealing a secret of the utmost importance. "We should build a fort."

Caroline's laughter danced in the air, a melodic sound that filled the room. "A fort? Are we twelve years old again?" Too many times in her childhood had she found Matty and George inside a fort he had built in George's room when they were meant to be asleep and Caroline used to join them on the promise that she wouldn't tell their parents.

Matty's expression remained earnest, his enthusiasm unwavering. "Why not? I haven't made one in forever."

Eventually giving in to his eager but pleading smile she found herself gathering an assortment of blankets and cushions, their laughter mingling with the rustling of fabric.

In the heart of the living area their fort began to take shape. They draped blankets over chairs, positioned cushions just right. With each layer added, the sense of nostalgia deepened, harkening back to a simpler time when building forts was an art form in itself. Their fingers brushed against soft fabrics, occasionally lingering too long or too close to each other.

Matty gestured with a flourish toward their handiwork, a playful glint in his eyes. "We did good, should be a professional."

Caroline laughed, her heart lighter than it had been in days. "It's... surprisingly impressive, I must admit."

Matty patted a cushion invitingly, his voice a whisper that held a touch of mischief. "Well, come on then. The fort awaits its inhabitants."

How had she ever believed she could get over him? Had she ever really wanted to get over him? Either way - she was well and truly fucked now because she was fully enraptured in the whirlpool that was Matty again and faced with a choice, sink or swim?

[sarenhale]

Ok. Hannes time.

[ughgoaway]

so so obsessed with dilf matty and teacher reader!!!! totally not the right time of year, but imagining the nativity play (extremely british primary school behaviour), matty literally not paying attention to any of the bits annie isn't in because he's too busy looking at reader standing at the side directing the kids and cheering them on lol <3

I'm actually so excited that other people like this au, I'm so obsessed with it so I'm glad that obsession is spreading!!

(once again, no proofreading here. just vibes)

oh, I'm not normally an early Christmas person but this is such a sweet idea. Matty knew the nativity was coming up and was silently desperate for her to get a good role. Well, he was silent to Annie, he didn't want to pressure her but he was definitely not silent to the other people in his life.

“But George what if she's cast as like ‘piece of hay’?? I can't have my baby be a piece of hay??” he complains to George in the studio as they are sat behind the mixing board. George sighs and takes his headphones fully off, knowing this isn't going to be a short conversation.

“Matty. She isn't going to be cast as a piece of hay. And if for some unknown reason, she is, she'll be the cutest piece of hay ever okay? You know what's not so cute? When Daddy doesn't finish his album on time and suddenly little Annie has no house. So can we please do some work? George says exasperatedly, but still slightly smiling at his best friend's dramatics.

“Right. Yes. smart.” Matty says and spins his chair back to the desk. 10 seconds of silence pass until Matty gasps dramatically.

“What?” George says looking at him confused.

“What if she gets cast as a pig or something? I can't have my baby dress up as a pig.” matty says, leaning back and staring into the distance on the brink of a crisis.

George just sighs and pats his shoulder.

///////

Anyway, the day the kids actually find out their roles Matty completely forgets and isn't picking Annie up today, Adam is. (perhaps little Hann is in the same school but a different class??) But Matty is in the kitchen washing dishes when he hears the door shut and his daughter's voice shouting out. 

“DADDY!! DADDY WHERE ARE YOU?” Annie says running in the door and furiously trying to take off her coat, shoes and backpack.

“I'm just in the kitchen sweetheart, are you okay? Do you need a hand taking off your shoes?” Matty says walking into the hallway with a tea towel over his shoulder and pink rubber gloves on. Annie had just gotten her first shoes with buckles, insisting she was grown up enough for them, so Matty has to help sometimes when she can't quite get them on or off.

“No, but Daddy guess what!! I'm the star!!” Annie says running up to Matty and staring up at him, bouncing on the spot with excitement.

Matty pauses and looks at her questioningly for a second, wondering if this is a reference to a show he hasn't seen. He doesn't think so, he's quite up to date on paw patrol and he doesn't remember any stars in that. But suddenly it clicks and he gets almost as excited as her.

“No way Annie!! You're the north star??” he asks picking her up. He notices her grumpy scrunched-up face and tilts his head questioningly at her.

“Daddy, I know you're excited but your gloves are wet and it feels icky on my back,” she says trying to wriggle out of his arms. Matty quickly puts her down and apologises and they walk into the kitchen together as Annie babbles on.

“So I am the star, which miss y/n said was a very important role, and I get to do my own song and everything!! It'll be like when you do a show, Daddy!!”

Matty at that moment has to fight every instinct in his body to not start aggressively sobbing at the idea his daughter wants to be like him in any way. He takes a shaky breath and gathers himself enough to respond to her. 

“Wow darling that's amazing! I'm so proud of you! I'll help you learn all your lines for the show and we can invite whoever you want to come and see you, hmm?”

Annie nods and then pulls her “thinking face” (her forehead scrunches and she taps her chin with her finger, it is one of Matty's favourite faces she pulls.) 

“I think I just want you Daddy, too many people will make me nervous,” she says looking at Matty as if she's asking for his approval.

Matty's heart once again swells at the fact that she wants him there at all, He is about to say yes when Annie pipes in once more.

“Oh, can nanny come?? I know she lives far away but I want her to see me be a star!!” she says excitedly.

Matty thinks for a second, considering whether his mum will be able to come down. Then he promptly remembers even if she was busy, she would become un-busy very quickly. “Anything for little Annie!” she’d always say. 

So Matty tells Annie he will ask nanny if she can come. By this point in time, they've been speaking about one topic for 5 minutes, so Annie is bored out of her mind and wants to run off and play.

She tells Matty as such and he watches her run off, his little star.

/////

the night of the play Annie is still at the school, having not come home at the usual time so they could do one final run-through before parents arrived.

Matty and Denise are both dressed and ready to leave the house, "right Matthew have you got the keys?" Denise asked as they stood outside the door just about to shut it.

matty sighs, slightly exasperated with his mum's constant doting.

"yes mum I've got-" he starts patting down his trousers, "oh wait. no, I don't. Two secs" Matty says jogging into the house, whilst Denise nods to herself and tries to hide the grin on her face.

the two of them ride together to the nativity, buzzing with energy. mostly to see Annie… maybe a tiny bit to see you.

all the other parents were on a rota to help the kids practice, but Matty was too busy with tour prep to sign up. Not only did that mean he didn't get to see Annie, but he didn't get to see you directing all the kids.

he already told himself not to stare too hard at you tonight, knowing he'd need the mental reminder because otherwise, he'd miss the whole play.

as he walks in Matty immediately scans the room, he looks out to the sea of excited parents. secretly he thinks, "Yeah your kids are fine, but mine is literally the star of the show."

During his scan, Matty spots the one thing he was really looking for, you. Standing in the corner, chatting and laughing with parents, was you. Matty stared for just a few seconds, completely enamoured with your smile.

An announcement came ringing out that the show was starting so parents took their seats and you walked to the front of the stage.

Matty watched as you looked over the crowd as people settled, the two of you locked eyes quickly. You lift your hand and wave, Matty does the same and the smile on his face grows.

Little does he know Denise is next to him, studying this interaction and looking curiously at the pure joy on her son's face.

You somehow manage to pull your eyes away from Matty and start speaking, “Hello family and friends! Welcome to our nativity play! We've all been working so hard on this play, as many of you know, so I hope you enjoy it! Without further adieu, please prepare to watch the annual *school name* nativity!”

The play begins and Matty settles into his chair to watch the kids. And he does. For about 5 min but he can feel his eyes drifting to you off the side of the stage.

How can his attention not be pulled when you're looking like that? You stand there, and the stage lights illuminate your face in what Matty thinks is the most beautiful way. Your simple green dress falls to your mid shin, and Matty stares at the way the neckline shows off your collarbones. But most of all, it's the beaming smile on your face.

A wide grin spreads over your cheeks, and your eyes glow as you look at the kids. every once in a while, your smile falters, but only because you are absentmindedly mouthing along with their lines. Every time a child's eyes fall on you, you beam and give them a thumbs up. Soon, your hand slides up to your chest, and you hold your hand over your heart as you watch the kids you love so much perform on stage.

He can't keep his eyes off of you, the clear love exuding from you emits such a glow mattys eyes can't help but be drawn to you. But soon he hears a little vice he knows all too well come out on stage.

As soon as he sees her, his eyes well up and his hand shoots up over his mouth as he looks out. Annie in her star costume will be burned into his mind forever, her cubby pink cheeks sticking out of the hole as she smiles and sings might just be the cutest thing Matty has ever seen.

Annie does her song and says her lines perfectly, and Matty feels such a deep sense of pride that he's never felt before. As soon as she's off he turns to his mum only to be met with her already looking at him, tears in her eyes also. They smile and exchange a quick hug before realising it's the final song and everyone is back on stage.

Matty focuses on Annie 99% of the time but his eyes can't help but flick over to you every once in a while. The pride Matty is feeling for Annie you are feeling too, just 30x over. He can see the film of tears over your eyes, the way they shimmer in the light is doing very little to hide your emotions.

The play ends and raucous applause and cheers come from the crowd, Matty stands up and other parents follow suit. He watches Annie's eyes flow over the room, desperate to find him, and they light up when they do. She smiles so wide you can see her missing tooth at the back of her mouth. She waves furiously at Matty and Denise and bounces to get off the stage and see them.

Matty and Denise wait out on the playground, Matty with a cigarette in hand despite his mum's scolding. 

“DADDY! NANNY!” Matty immediately turns to the voice and doesn't get too much warning until a small star comes shooting into his arms. 

“Woah!! Hey little superstar! You were amazing up there!!” Matty says before pressing kisses all over her face. She giggles the whole time and both Matty and Denise can't hide their smiles at her laughter.

As soon as Matty finishes Annie starts chattering away to Denise all about her role and how she had to learn lines, Matty was paying attention until he saw you walk out in his periphery.

He watches you chat with parents and soon gets lost, just staring at you. Until he feels Annie being taken out of his arms, then his attention is definitely back as his head shoots around just to see Denise grabbing her. 

“Go on love, go talk to y-” she catches herself before she says your real name in front of Annie, “Miss y/n. I'm sure she wants to talk to you too” She shoots him a wink and begins chatting with Annie.

He nods dumbly and walks over, catching you just as you finish your conversation.

“Matty! Hi!” you say, clearly shocked at his presence.

“Hi! Sorry to come and bother you, but I just wanted to say how great the nativity was. You did an amazing job with them all. Sorry I couldn't help during the week, but I'm sure the play was better off without me!”

You laugh and lightly slap Matty's shoulder, “Don't worry, you're crazy busy being a rockstar. We managed to survive without your acting tips.” you tease. Before your eyes flick behind him briefly, “although we probably could used your mum, the famous Denise Welch? The kids would been on Waterloo Road in no time” you finish with a cheeky smile.

Matty smiles back and is going to retort but before he can Annie shows up, grabbing his hand and dragging him away, saying something about his promise to get fish and chips after the show.

He smiles apologetically at you, and you wave his apology off before actually waving goodbye. A wave he dumbly imitates as he gets dragged by his 5-year-old.

blurb masterlist here!!

[god-has-entered-my-body]

We started losing light - M.H x Reader // pt.2

A/N: TW for vomit, please take care of yourselves! I wrote most of this in one go, i'm sorry if there are any spelling/wording mistakes. It gets angsty, lots of yelling bla bla. Adams a cunt in this one. Thank you @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for beta reading once again❤️

wc: 7k

part three

The smell of fresh cut grass permeated the air. You were walking down the beaten pavement path, moss covering most of it, making it quite slippery. For the first time in a long time, you were completely sober.

It had been well over two weeks since the kiss, not having addressed it. There was no need to, since it clearly meant nothing to both of you. It was early march, and you had expected the rain to lay off for a bit. The weather forecast that morning laughed in your face, predicting another week of straight rain. Had that made you think, even for a second ‘hey, maybe it’d be a good idea to bring a coat?’ Of course not. 

“What do you think of Hann’s new girl?” Mattys voice broke your train of thought. “She's fit, isn't she? Maybe even too fit for the old man,” he lets out a disgusting cough, and you tell him that maybe it's a sign he should quit smoking. 

“Don't be a dickhead, Adams plenty attractive,” you answer, nudging him with your elbow. Matty scoffs as a way to say: Hann? Attractive? Our mate, Adam Hann? You nod, not letting Adam be the butt of yet another one of Mattys deprecating jokes. 

“Olivia’s nice, even if she was a total cunt to George,” His eyes lit up at your statement, nodding erratically. “Right?? What was even her problem with him? She was fine with the rest of us, even you, given that you're a girl. Something about him must’ve fucked her off or something.” It's true, she was a total sweetheart to you, even asking where your lipgloss was from. 

She was a sight for sore eyes, bleach blonde, waist length hair draping over her shoulders. Blue eyes like the ocean, even if you get lost in them. Ross was convinced she was some sort of call girl, until Adam had shown him the text threads from the dating site they had met on.  

You offer him a shrug. The night's events played out in your mind. You had all met at a bar near Adam and Ross’ flat. From the start, she was facing away from George, avoiding looking at him like it was going to kill her if she did. George tried to talk to her, even complimented her shoes (the shoes were ugly), but to no avail. She just wouldn't acknowledge him. He eventually gave up, nursing his drink while making conversation with a very confused Ross.  

You continued walking arm in arm, ‘Old Yellow Bricks’ by the Arctic Monkeys blaring through your headphones. It was a miracle neither of you had extensive hearing loss. 

All was well, until you felt the first rain drops hit your bare shoulders. You turn to Matty to complain, but you see a sly smile already on his face. 

“I hate to tell you ‘told you so’ but-,” You didn't let him finish. 

“Please don't do this to me, I'm having a moment of weakness!” you shiver dramatically. The wind wasn't helping your little predicament. You had a tank top on, not very ideal for the harsh British rain that was about to come pouring down.   

“Now, be a gentleman and give me your coat.” Matty shakes his head, tugging the coat over himself. You scoff at him.  

“You can steal my weed and talk about ‘girls don't roll their own spliffs’ but you wont give me your coat?? Fucking tosser, you are.” You mime his thick northern accent, your fingers forming quotation marks in the air. 

“Oh fuck right off! Y’know Hann’s the only one who does that-'' you narrow your eyes at him, cocking your head to the left, “Fine, I said it once. And besides, I'm cold too!” 

You pout at him, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. He pretends to think about it, but inevitably shakes his head once again. ‘Fuck you’ you think. 

It's not until the rain starts proper pouring down on the two of you that Matty makes you an offer.

“Share the coat? You've officially lost the plot, mate.” You laugh in his face. How would you even fit?? Then again, the coat was insanely big, sized up at least two or three sizes. You could theoretically squeeze into it. Matty and his ‘fashion’ choices. 

Deciding to try, Matty takes his right arm out of the coat, letting you into it. It was a tight fit, and it didn't close, but it worked. Your left arm rested on Mattys waist, and his right one rested on yours. He gave your side a light squeeze, laughing at you when you jump. 

You felt a familiar warmth at the contact. ‘Stop it’  you thought to yourself. Your attention was quickly pulled to the car driving past. In the pouring rain, a yellow taxi cab had hit a puddle next to the edge of the pavement, dousing you in muddy rainwater. 

Matty cursed the car out, letting out a terrifying shriek. Jesus. 

He tried to brush as much of the water off as he could, but it was no use. 

Watching him struggle made you crack a smile. It was endearing almost, seeing him curse at literal water. 

The walk back to Mattys place was rudely interrupted by him booking it down the street halfway home, ripping you out of the confines of the jacket. The rain had let up, so you chased after him. Your boots splashed against the water on the ground, the wind blowing against you. Matty almost tripped on a rogue piece of pavement, making him fall back. 

His feeble attempts at getting his keys into the lock before you got to him proved useless. You were fast.

Your head hurts from the running, so you let his bolting away from you slide, as long as he made you a cuppa as an apology. He was mental about his tea, having an entire cupboard dedicated to organizing and storing it. 

“You should be on an episode of my strange addiction,” you comment. 

Matty made tea like it was his profession, perfectly measuring the water-to-teabag ratio to a T (pun intended). You loved sugar, and you watched him put 3 cubes into yours. He took his with a splash of milk, gross.

The warm liquid soothes the sore throat you knew you’d have tomorrow. Your nose was already clogging up from all the time spent in the rain, trying to get home as soon as possible   

“So, am I forgiven?” Matty looks at you from over the top of his red foo fighters mug. Only he would have a red foo fighters mug. You smile and nod at him as he reaches for the remote.  

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“I swear to fucking god Rome, if you fuck this up, I will rip your balls off and have that be my jewelry.” You say through gritted teeth.

You were currently draped across your mate Rome’s sofa. That same Rome who did your crooked aladdin sane tattoo, was now apparently a professional body piercer. But hey, who could turn down a free piercing? Spoiler alert: you probably should have. 

The needle tickled your belly button, and you could feel your heart racketing in your chest. And not in a good way. ‘Matty was the good way.’  

What the fuck? You pushed the thought away quickly. 

You had plenty of piercings in your ears, 5 or so on each side, but this was your first body piercing. I was also your first one done by Rome, tattoo expert and piercer extraordinaire, allegedly.        

Matty was sat on the glass coffee table across from the leather sofa, eyeing the needle even more intensely than you were.

A cold disinfectant wipe touched your stomach, making you shudder. Rome said it wouldn't hurt much, but you didn't trust a word that came out of his mouth. He had also told you the tattoo on your hip bone wouldn't hurt a lot, and that was a blatant lie. It was a piercing pain in your hip for about 4 hours straight, so not exactly pain free. 

“Just breathe, it’ll be over in a second.” you hear Rome's voice, slightly distorted. The needle pierces your skin. It feels hot, and you can feel your hand squeezing Mattys. The jewelry slipping in causes another flash of hot pain to sear through you. Now it's Mattys voice whispering comforting words into your ear. His presence helps, acting as a sort of psychological painkiller. 

Examining your new accessory in the mirror, you let out a content sigh. The green gemstone glimmers in the light, complimenting the red and green of your tattoo. The light of the bathroom blinded you, and you make a mental to let Rome know his lightbulb was brighter than the fucking sun.

Matty was waiting for you in the living room, flicking through channels on the telly. He nods when his eyes meet yours, signaling it was time to go. 

The two of you had made it a habit to walk everywhere, neither having enough money to pay for bus or train tickets. The walks had become a constant, the feeling of Mattys coat brushing up against your shoulder was routine.  

Sharing headphones once again, today's track was AC/DC’s ‘Back In Black’. Matty wasn't a big fan of AC/DC but that didn't matter, he still let you put it on, even though it had been his turn. 

That's something you’d noticed. He wasn't as prissy about the music anymore, simply humming in response to your music choice, even if it was the worst pop trash he had ever heard. Something felt off, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. It didn't matter much at the time, it just meant you had more opportunity to listen to whatever you pleased. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The Sound was a pub of sorts. Exactly the type of pub you would find someone like Matty in.

Extravagant, loud, and full of life and most importantly, booze. The neon signs all littering the concrete wall gave you a headache. 

He had brought everyone here, including Hann’s girlfriend, for a round of drinks. 

The queue up until the door had been well stressful, seeing as both you and George were underage. Most pubs let you in without a hitch, but this one was new. 

Thankfully, the bouncer didn't even look twice at the both of you, simply waving you through. He did press hand to Adam's chest, and asked him of all people for his I.D. You tried not to giggle as Hann desperately searched his pockets for his wallet. Olivia stood next to him, looking unimpressed.  

Matty was already inside, ordering everyone drinks. He might fail his GCSEs, but for some reason, he had everyone's drink order down by heart. Even Olivias. You wonder where he had gotten that information from.  

The bass of the music thrummed through your veins, the disco-esque lights flashing all around you. It was full, the poor bartenders overwhelmed with about sixteen people at once shouting their various drink orders at them. You took a sip of your drink, and made your way to the semi-crowded dance floor. Spotting Adam snogging his girl in the corner, you roll your eyes at the sight. 

George and Ross were off to the side, doing shots with a bridal party of all people. The maid of honor was throwing herself at Ross, and he attempted to fend her off, going on about ‘the missus waiting for him at home’. That sure didn't stop her. 

But you couldn't, for the life of you, find Matty. You hated this about him. He just disappeared and it took ages to find him again, and it didn't help that everyone else was either snogging their girlfriend or getting hammered with an entire wedding. Your eyes scan the crowd, and you finally see him. 

Him and a girl. 

His hair was up in a half up half down sort of style, blonde strands framing his face perfectly. His eyes were lined with blue liner, complimenting the blue nail polish on his fingers. The fingers on the hands that were touching some random girl's arm. A pretty girl's arm.  

She was everything in vogue. Absolutely gorgeous black hair fell over her shoulder, framing her face perfectly. A red dress clung to her body, her legs looking a mile long. She was the beauty standard.  

You felt jealousy bubble up inside of you, stopping yourself before you could properly feel it.

‘It's Matty’ you thought to yourself ‘he does this all the time, get your shit together’ A deep breath managed to steady you. It wasn't long before he saw you through the crowd of people, a smile spreading into his face when he did. He said something to the girl. The look on his face seemed apologetic. She nodded in understanding, flashing him a smile as he turned around to make his way to you. Did he reject her? 

“All this neon is doing my head in,” you gesture at your surroundings, ”can we go outside for a bit?” Matty agrees, commenting on the volume of the music. For some reason, you can't find Adam, and you assume he's off shagging his girlfriend in a bathroom stall somewhere.

The warm air hits you as you step out the back entrance, Matty following close behind. You wedge your wallet in between the door to keep it from locking you out. A lesson learned the hard way. The brick of the wall dug into your back, you wince at the roughness of it. 

You pulled out your cigarettes, feeling around for your lighter. An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, but Matty was already way ahead of you. He held his lighter up to the cig between your lips. You notice two things. One, his hands are shaking, and two, it's the lighter. That same lighter he had on his the day you met. 

Why were his hands shaking? Why did he still have it? Was it even the same one? You check the side of it and sure enough, it had his initials scrawled on it in white ink. You're snapped out of your thoughts when the nicotine hits your system. It calms down your thinking, and you forget about it. It feels like you're forgetting a lot these days. 

“Why did you reject her? She was really pretty.” you ask, your eyes not meeting his, instead focusing on the glowing billboard in the distance. Matty frowned at you.

“Yeah, she was, but you know id rather not fuck someone i dont know.” he takes a deep drag of his cigarette. “You know I'm not really like that.”

Matty was a performer, he performed in every aspect in his life. So did you, in a way. With fake displays of confidence and that fucking kiss, you put on a sort of show. So did Matty, honing a distinct air of nonchalance, acting unbothered by everything and everyone. 

Those performances were let down when you were around each other. You got to see a side of Matty no one else really saw, not even George, who he had known since he was about 14. He was vulnerable with you, soft even. In turn, he saw your insecurities. Insecurities that ran deep through your bones. Insecurities that were the very essence of your being.  

You smoke the rest of your cigarette in silence, leaning against the wall. A gust of wind made you shiver, goosebumps forming on your skin.

The heel of your boot stubs out the butt of your cigarette, and you turn to go back inside. Mattys hand on your arm stopped you, and you felt your breath hitch at the contact.

“Ross just messaged me,” he read the text out loud, the faint blue light illuminating his face. “Adams gone back home to shag Olivia. He said to fuck off until at least 2, and to leave him alone.”

You stare at him for a second before you answer, fuming at Adam for leaving you stranded like that. “Where are we meant to go then? Fucking tosser, leaving us like that” Matty just shrugs, and starts walking around the building to the main entrance. You follow him. 

Ross and George are at the front, and George has a tiara on his head. Matty immediately questions his choice of headwear, but he just brushes him off, saying it was a gift from the bride. Her name was Ashley, apparently. Not that it mattered, how the fuck were you gonna get home? 

All your questions were answered when George spoke: “We could go to mine? I have a pretty big shed in my garden,” Matty makes a face at the thought of sleeping in someone's garden shed, but then again, it was better than being homeless for the next eight or so hours. 

“We could all crash there, it even has a mattress in it.” 

The four of you decide to walk the 45 minutes to Georges house, seeing as there werent any busses going in that direction at 11 o’clock at fucking night. Fuck Adam. 

George fumbled with the key to the shed for a solid minute before finally getting it open, revealing the interior.     

It was littered with boxes stacked on top of various pieces of furniture. You spot an old mattress tucked up against the wall. It looks dirty, and you wonder if sleeping on the floor might prove more hygienic than laying your face on that.

You get to work, moving boxes out of the way to reveal a red leather couch, dusty and grimy from years of storage, and a giant green sofa chair. You lugged your bag onto the chair, calling dibs. Ross groaned, sitting down on the mattress on the floor. It at least came with a blanket (if you could call a duvet without a sheet a blanket). 

Matty had gone with the sofa, and was now brushing as much dust off as he could, trying to get it somewhat clean. Neither one of you had any clothes to sleep in, so you opted for just sleeping in your current clothes. You hadn’t thought to bring makeup wipes, so you knew you’d be dealing with a gnarly breakout in the morning. That didn't matter to you at this point, you just wanted to pass out on the chair. You put your hair up in a ponytail, sighing as you look for a surface to put your cellphone on. Matty was stood behind you, shuffling around the sofa, trying to find a place for his giant coat. 

Everyone was getting ready to conk out, and George had already gone back to his house. He, of course, had a warm and comfortable bed waiting for him inside a heated house.   

You watched Matty as he took his shirt off, your eyes lingering for a beat longer than what was considered ‘platonic’. He had a tattoo that mirrored yours on his left hip bone. “We are kings” it read. You’d laughed at him when he showed it to you, deeming it awfully cheesy, a rose being the backdrop for the words. But nevertheless, he ignored your words. As long as he liked it, you told him. 

He had various other small, mostly meaningless tattoos littering his skin. He had let Rome practice a lot on his legs, which proved to be a mistake, given those god-awful tattoos were now going to be stuck on his body forever. It didn't seem to bother him though. He was seemingly happy just helping a friend, even if he did now have a hideous cross tattoo on his left calf.  

You had only one tattoo, the Aladdin Sane one, but you were planning on getting more the moment you could afford to not have to go to Rome for it. 

‘never again’ you thought. 

Matty had settled onto the sofa, and was now reading one of the many books that were stacked in piles in the corners of the shed. He had picked up Joan Didions ‘Slouching toward Bethlehem", scanning the pages intently. 

You don't know at what point you fell asleep, but you were woken up by a loud crashing noise. You shoot up, greeted by a stabbing pain in your upper back and shoulder. Fuckkkkk. 

The chair had made you fall asleep in a god-awful position, your neck hanging off the edge of it. The source of the noise was, of course, Matty knocking over the once source of light: A metal lamp that was conveniently placed right in the middle of the tiny shed. 

He cursed at the lamp, and then at George for deciding to put it there. George couldn’t hear him, since he was comfortably sleeping in his own bed inside of the house. Fuck. him. 

Matty looks at you, apologizing for waking you up. Ross was nowhere to be seen, and you assume he’d already left.

Your hand reaches for your back, trying to soothe the pain by rubbing it. It didn't help, and you lay back in defeat. 

“What's got you so prissy this morning?” Matty asks, cocking an eyebrow. You shoot him a glare, not in the mood for his comments. 

“It’s all Adam's fault! If he hadnt acted like a fucking dickhead and left us stranded just to shag Olivia, I would’ve fallen asleep in my own bed, and not some dusty chair in a shed! A fucking shed!”You were frustrated to say the least, your hands moving erratically around you, showcasing said frustration. “My back is killing me, I cant move, and Ross has fucked off god knows where.” You feel tears well up in your eyes, too embarrassed to look at Matty.

You were tired and in pain. All because Hann couldn't keep his dick in his pants. You mentally flip him off. 

“I could give you a massage, if you want,” Matty offered, seeing how the whole night had affected you. “And you're right, Hann’s a total cunt for doing that.” He added, making you break out into a smile at his words. He had that effect on you. You calmed down 

He motioned for you to sit down on the floor in front of the leather sofa, and you did. You took off your shirt, feeling a sudden pang of insecurity run through you. You had been half naked in front of Matty loads of times, so why was this different? 

The sudden pressure of Mattys rough hands on your shoulder blade made you groan, relieving some of the tightness in your back. 

“Thanks mate, you're a legend.” Matty chuckles at your words, humming in response. He goes on for about 10 minutes, All is going great, and your back feels better. That is, until Ross comes rushing through the door. He freezes when he sees you in your bra, shielding his eyes and spinning around to face the door. 

“Fuckin hell, why are you naked? And why are Mattys hands on you?” Ross borderline shouts, his voice seeming panicked. 

“Jesus Ross, stop acting like I'm the first half naked girl you've seen in your life,” you start, Mattys laugh interrupting you. “You can turn around, Matty’s just giving me a massage.” 

He does turn around, avoiding looking at you. You roll your eyes. Unbelievable. 

He grabs his jacket, and leaves as quickly as he came. Matty taps your shoulder, signaling you to get up. You put your shirt back on, and grab your bag from the pile of boxes. Your back still aches, but the massage did help. You tell him as much.

“It's no thing, all good,” He mutters, closing the door of the shed behind him. You now have to figure out how to get ‘round the side of the house without George’s parents seeing you. How would he explain that? “Oh yeah, forgot to tell you, three people slept in the shed last night. Tea?” 

Nevertheless, you manage to get out unnoticed, setting off home. The walk was incredibly long, stopping at a wetherspoons along the way to have a piss. It took some bickering with the barista to let you use the bathroom even though you weren't customers. It ended with Matty giving her his number, promising to take her out as a thank you. That same jealousy bubbled up inside of you as he handed her the piece of paper with a wink. 

It didn't matter, you decided. It was fluke, you were just tired and angry at Adam for being a massive fucking cunt and leaving you. You swore you’d kill him when you saw him next. 

By the time you made it home, it was almost 8:30. Hoping and praying your mother hadn't woken up yet, you slid the window open. Nothing. She was asleep.  

Matty helped you up, grabbing you by the sides. His hands lingered for a second too long, squeezing the flesh of your hips. You swore you could see a faint blush spread across his face. No. You were imagining it. He was just red from lifting you. Definitely. 

He held out his arms, enveloping you in a warm hug goodbye. You felt like crying. You really didn't want him to leave. The hug lasted what seemed like forever, your hands stroking his back. He somehow sensed this, and held you even tighter. 

“I'll pick you up at half ten, alright? Just us.” you liked the sound of that, nodding your head in agreement. “No Adam or Ross to fuck us off, we’ll get hammered and walk around. That sound good?” You nod again, brushing some of his hair out of his face. 

This is the first time in a while you'd gotten to properly look at him. You observed his features. Eye bags caressed the skin under his eyes, making him look tired. He was still beautiful, his pale skin glowing in the light of the morning. Brown eyes glazed over and full of sleep pierced yours. You felt like he was looking into your soul. He saw you. 

He pulled away, your hand lingering on his arm before returning to your side. He turned around to leave, and every fiber of you wanted to shout after him to stay. You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Defeated, you turned around and hopped off the window sill and into your bedroom. 

Your bed was calling your name, and you flopped onto it, not bothering to change. You desperately needed a shower, but your body would not move. Sleep took over your body as you settled into the cold sheets of your bed. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the first time in your life, Matty was drunker than you were. Stumbling down the road, cursing at cars driving past for no apparent reason. The half a bottle of vodka already in his system was being washed down by a bottle of red wine, currently sloshing onto his shirt. You weren't completely sober either, but you’re pretty sure you’d never seen Matty this wrecked. Ever.

“I need a piss,” Matty announces, searching your surroundings for the nearest gas station. You weren't quite certain where you were, the darkness of the cloudy night obstructed your view. 

You were walking on the side of some highway or other, seeing as there was barely a sliver of pavement to keep you from getting hit by a car. The honking finally made sense. 

Matty spots a gas station in the distance, and takes off running down the street in its direction. A drunk Matty was definitely faster than a sober one, you take note, hauling ass after him.

By the time you’d made it inside, Matty was already throwing himself at a traumatized looking gas station attendant, basically climbing over the counter to get to her. 

You grab him by the shirt, tugging him backwards. Apologizing profusely, you ask where the bathroom is. The blonde girl points timidly to the sign hanging above a hallway off to the side, labeled ‘Unisex Toilet’. You thank her, before realizing Matty had once again escaped your line of sight and was now yelling at the drink cooler. 

“It's absolutely mad, the amount of drinks they offer! That can't be good for the environment!” He slurs his words, making meaningful eye contact with a can of cherry cola.

“Climate change is a real thing you know, don't let the people fool y-” you cut him off, apologizing to the now even more terrified worker, ushering him towards the loo. 

“Fuckin hell, what did you do that for?? I was just inquiring on the importance of-” his expression changed drastically “fuckfuckfuck get out my way!” you knew that look. Matty was about to hurl all over you if you didnt move now. 

He bolted to the nearest stall, dropping to his knees as the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed made its reappearance in the toilet bowl. Your hands moved to get his hair out of his face. You whisper small ‘oh god’s whilst stroking his hair, knowing throwing vodka up couldn't be pleasant. You weren't sober in the slightest, but you had to pull yourself together to help hi.

Matty had done this for you multiple times, holding your hair whilst talking you through it. 

“Jesus Matty, you have got to pace yourself,” you say, your voice having a slightly serious tinge to it. He genuinely worried you.

“Oh fuck off mate, leave me alone.” he spat, the tone of this voice sending a chill down your spine. He had never, in your three years of friendship, spoken to you like that. You gripped his hair tighter, letting out an annoyed sigh, not knowing how to react. He was wasted, but he had been wasted before. Never like this.

“Are you deaf?? I said fuck off!” His words dripped with venom, his voice amplified in the confines of the bathroom. Your eyes widen in shock, letting go of his hair. It falls into his face, obscuring it. 

The bathroom stills when he finally stops retching, having emptied the contents of his stomach fully. Time seemed to slow for both you and him, making the room spin.

Suddenly, you hear sobs coming from beneath you. Matty was crying. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckkkkk. What do you do? Comfort him? Leave him alone to cry it out? Definitely not. 

You drop down to your knees, trying to get a look at his face. Vomit covered the edges of his mouth, spit dripping down into the toilet. Everything reeked of cheap vodka and cigarettes, but you blocked out the smell. 

“Please dont look at me..” you hear, his voice shaking as he brings a hand up to wipe his mouth clean. It gets on his sleeve, but he doesn't seem to care. Your hand finds its way into his hair, massaging his scalp in that way he likes. A whimper leaves his mouth, catching you off guard. Another sob. Tears drip down his face, and he finally turns around to face you. 

“Christ Matty, what's gone wrong with you?” you ask, your voice breathy, the alcohol making you hazy. He just shakes his head, bringing his knees up to his chest. His eyes are glued to the floor, too scared to look at you. 

“Dont know whats wrong with me,” he starts, finally looking up. He doesn't look you in the eye, instead looking behind you. Past you. “Maybe I had too much to drink, I dunno.” You crack a smile. No shit he had too much to drink. 

“Lay off the vodka for a bit, it makes you mad. You almost jumped the poor girl behind the counter.” you laugh, trying to lighten the mood a bit, still too drunk to be put down by Mattys crisis. 

“I don't want to get up, I feel so heavy” he slurs, obviously still drunk. “Nah, you know we need to leave, or else they’ll kick us out for trespassing or something. We’ve been in here ‘bout an hour already.” You look at an imaginary watch on your wrist, making him giggle. 

His eyes are half closed as he watches you get up from your spot next to him. You use the stall walls for balance, not wanting to come crashing down. Extending a hand to Matty, he pulls himself up with you. The both of you stumble outside of the stall, and you take a look at yourself in the mirror. Jesus, both of you look like you've been through hell.

Your makeup smeared down your face, your lipgloss long gone. Mattys hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction imaginable. There was vomit on his shirt and chin, trailing down his neck. You look at his reflection in disgust, and tell him as much. 

He takes his coat off, along with his shirt. He runs his face under cold water, washing any vomit off of it. He stared at himself, his eyes empty. Your voice made him look at you. 

“Let's not overdo it like this again, it proper sucked” you knew you sounded like you were joking, but you couldn't be more serious. “I'm still a bit drunk, and I think you are too. Food?”

He nods at you, and takes your bag out of your hands, stuffing his tshirt into it. Putting his coat back on, you can see the skin of his chest peek out from underneath it. You look away, taking the bag back from him. As you emerge out of the loo, you nod in the direction of the girl behind the counter. Matty announces he's run out of cigarettes, and goes to buy more. The girl hands him a pack of parliaments, and he slides a tenner over to her, telling her to keep the change. 

The air outside is cool, colder than inside the bathroom. The smell of petrol fills your nostrils and you breathe. “Maccies?” He asks, pointing to the sign across the road. You smile, crossing the road together, desperately needing some grease in your system.

He places both your orders for you, taking the number and sitting down. Your food arrives, looking as good as mcdonalds at 1 in the morning can look. You take a bite out of your food, and reach for your shared fries. Mattys hand is already there, and your fingers brush against each other 

You pull your hand back and it feels as if you've been shocked by something. Matty seems as unbothered as ever, munching away at his chicken burger (yes, chicken). You stare at him until he looks up at you, your eyes quickly redirecting to your own food. Everything feels weird. Breathing feels hard as your heart pounds in your chest 

You're just drunk, stop it.  

“What do you wanna do after?” He says, licking the grease off of his fingers. You can still see his chest, the pale skin a stark contrast to the dark, fluffy material of his coat. His hair was down, covering a large chunk of his face, he desperately needed to cut it. You tell him. 

“Cut it for me then, as a payment for me coloring yours,” You agree, smiling at the thought.

“I can't exactly go home, my house is too far away and i can't be arsed to pay for a taxi at this hour.” he adds to his previous statement, turning his pockets inside out, showing his lack of funds. Typical Matty, running out of money at the worst possible moment. You had used the last of your cash to pay for your food, leaving about 6 quid in your wallet.

“What about Carolines? That's not far from here.” you suggest, finishing off the last of the fries. 

Matty sipped on his cola, calculating the distance, before agreeing and getting up to leave. You take your bag, following closely behind him. Hooking his arm in with yours, you walk along the highway together, flipping off the cars that honked at you. The clouds had cleared, showing the myriad of stars glowing in the sky. You stopped for a second, admiring their beauty before Matty pulled you along. He was never one for admiring nature, always a city boy at heart. 

The walk was calm, with Matty walking at your pace, instead of you at his. He hummed the melody to some radiohead. This was the first walk together you had taken in silence. Your boots clicked against the pavement, the sound almost deafening. 

Arriving at Carolines, the steps up to the terrace seemed longer than ever. The sofa was still there, though it had been moved, presumably by Ross, closer to the railing. The stars were clear as ever, illuminating Mattys face in a soft blue light. The city below was quiet, most of the lights in the buildings having been turned off. 

You steal a glance at Mattys wristwatch. 2:53am. Was it already that late?

You catch him staring at you, his eyes lingering. You felt naked, exposed, despite being more covered up than he was. Mattys gaze didn't let up, so you decided to stare back. Your eyes lock, and you immediately sober up. 

“D’you have any weed on you? I fancy a smoke,” he asked, his eyes flicking between yours and your bag. You did, in fact, have a pre rolled spliff in your makeup bag. By the time you’d taken it out, Matty had already taken his lighter out of his jeans pocket. That fucking lighter. 

He hands it to you, and you cock your head at him. 

“So you don't go begging for my coat again,” he grins, pressing the plastic into your hand. The way he articulated the word begging made you feel warm, flush almost. A blush spread on your cheeks, you could feel it. Matty either didn't notice, or just plain ignored it. Both options made you nervous. 

You light the spliff, rotating it to get an even burn. Passing it to Matty, you let him take the first hit. He does, his expression immediately changing to a more relaxed one. ‘He looks fucked out’ you think, observing the way his eyes drooped half closed. His hair fell into his face as he laid down onto your lap, letting his head rest on your thighs. 

You take a drag, ashing onto the floor. The ash dwindles on the floor for a second, before going out completely. The two of you take in the glow of the city, slightly obscured by the dark gray railing, but beautiful nonetheless. 

“Do you ever feel lost?” The words slip out before you can stop them. Matty moves in your lap, turning so that he could look at you from below. His expression is unreadable. Neutral. It scares you.

“Sometimes, yeah..” his voice is soft, raspy from the smoke. He passes the spliff back to you before speaking further. “But isn't that part of it? The human experience? Feeling lost, I mean.” you can see him picking at his nails, the skin beginning to bleed. His neutral expression is replaced by something else. Worry? Anxiety? 

Matty was prone to panic attacks. They didn’t happen often, but they happened. One particular time was in a club downtown. It was Saturday night, and the place was packed to the brim. His hand grabbed yours and the look in his eyes was nothing short of terrified. His breathing was irregular, and you knew he needed to get out, now. 

That was one of the first times it happened, but it wasn't the last. You quickly learned how to deal with them. He, like you, never, ever wanted to talk about it immediately after the fact. You knew they happened when he felt trapped. In crowded spaces, in high stress situations. His hand would reach for yours as if it were the anchor to reality. 

His hand reached for yours, the coldness of his making you jump slightly. Your heart was beating so fast I couldn't see straight. His eyes met yours, searching for something. Something.

What was that something? What did he want? He squeezed your fingers, playing with the rings on your index and ring. Twisting and turning and taking them off and putting them back on. The feeling made you dizzy. 

You stayed like that, his head in your lap until the first signs of dawn hit your skin. The orange glow of the sun makes his eyes appear brighter, his hair looks lighter than it actually was. The blonde highlights were a good idea. This made him appear his age. You were just two kids 

Kids on a terrace, watching the sun rise slowly over the city. 

Not daring to move, you let yourself relax on the couch. You're tired, you haven't slept all night and you could feel the hangover start to spread its way through your body. You weren't completely present. 

You convince yourself the faint “I love you,” you heard just before you drifted off the sleep was a trick of your mind.

What else could it be? 

[abiiors]

eternal sunshine: smutty summer prompts

hello hello, this list of prompts has an agenda — to have a summer full of smutty writing 🤭. the rules are what they've always been — write whatever you want, however many prompts you want, between 01/07/24 and 31/07/24 (07/01/24 and 07/31/24)

i hope you guys participate again and i would absolutely love to read your fics so pls tag #summer75 if you use these ♡︎♡︎♡︎

typed list of prompts under the cut

1] melted ice 2] summer heat 3] skinny dipping 4] fourth of july / fireworks (some writers on here are american, some are not so you pick which prompt you want to write) 5] hot and sticky 6] sundress 7] late night talking 8] sunshine baby 9] barbecue 10] sunburn 11] road trip 12] heatwave 13] day drinking 14] joyride 15] summer holiday 16] club nights 17] thunderstorms 18] tan lines 19] one towel 20] freckles 21] pool party 22] ice lollies 23] tiny bikini 24] beach day 25] bonfires 26] outdoor movies 27] swimming lessons 28] summer wine 29] summer wedding 30] too hot to handle 31] eternal sunshine

(ps: i made these for me and my mutuals in the 1975 fandom but if you want to use these for other fandoms, please feel free to do so :) however i’d really appreciate if you didn’t use the summer75 tag 🤍)

[ittakesabitmoremilk]

Ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece

[wreckedandpolemic]

Ik we have already discussed if regret me universe have a good ending but it always hurts to see them suffer (even if at the same time it’s the best part of their story)

Btw i’m just curious about Hann’s opinion on the whole situation, he’s always the mature one hahaha does he trust in their happy ending?

i fear that hann has pulled you both aside multiple times over the years like you guys know i love you both… but you seriously have to leave it alone for all our sakes!!! and then has to fight to keep the i told you so inside when matty goes to him lamenting your breakup in 2020-ish times 😭

but he gives a toast at your wedding that’s basically just ok, i was wrong, i hold my hands up to it… you two deserve this happiness after everything you’ve been through together and it’s really sweet and matty is like. openly weeping all evening lol sap <3

[undoing-anobrains]

you bring me home

part six

series masterlist

wc- 3.6K

They always seem to find each other in the moonlight. As if there's something instinctual and magnetic awoken in them once the pearlescent matter rises in the distance and the sun disappears from sight leaving an explosion of colour in its aftermath. In the dusk Matty can't resist the pull Caroline has over him - he treasures the stolen moments they share in the dim light.

Caroline had been trying to make the time to listen to the boys' latest album in its entirety without being interrupted but she was struggling. She'd heard the singles in the lead up as they were released and she was confident she knew the majority of the other tracks as well just from sharing the studio space with them for the past few weeks but she hadn't yet gotten the opportunity to listen to the final product.

She was the type of person who needed complete silence and darkness to properly absorb music, at least for the first listen, but she also felt rather embarrassed playing it around the boys. There was no reason for her to be because there was absolutely no shame in acknowledging her brother and her friends' talent and she would fully admit to being a fan but they had never witnessed her reactions to their music before. Even if he was her brother, she figured George would have been slightly concerned if he'd seen her reaction to 'I always wanna die (sometimes)' two years ago. The point being their music was a cathartic release for her but she didn't want her initial thoughts to be under the magnifying glass of half the band.

On a random Tuesday evening though her efforts were once again delayed because of Matty's arrival in her room. Lately he'd been turning up at her door earlier and earlier, sometimes to talk, sometimes just to content to linger in silence to be close to Caroline as she browsed journal articles. His head typically ended up on her shoulder and more often than not she found him following them as well. It was rather amusing when he'd ask her at the end 'what the fuck does hypofractionation mean?' and 'I don't know how you read this with a straight face love' when she was reviewing data on the acute side effects a potential breakthrough drug had on gut function.

This time though he was flicking through her belongings absent-mindedly until his fingers danced over the black bottle of nail varnish she kept on the wooden dresser alongside her makeup. Seconds later Matty was eagerly asking her if she'd do his nails and Caroline obliged because she'd never been able to say no to Matty. Not when she should have and certainly not now.

The nail polish let out loud clinks as they hit against each other inside the clear container she stored them in. Caroline placed it gently on her bed in between her and Matty. The potent smell of chemicals intensified as she slowly twirled the lid around until the bottle of black nail varnish was fully open. Taking Matty's hand in hers sent her spiralling. Her fingers brushed against Matty's constantly these days but neither of them had ever dared to be more intimate with it.

Honestly it was kind of insane that she was this receptive to the simple action of holding his band, a seemingly innocuous touch but it ignited an unexpected spark within her. The sensation, so subtle yet electrifying, sent a quiver through her fingertips and settled like a whispering secret in her chest. If only her seventeen year old self could see her now.

Their hands fit together like pieces of a puzzle, as if they were always meant to be intertwined in this way. She could feel the warmth of his palm against hers, a connection that spoke of unspoken understanding and a burgeoning affection. Her breath caught in her throat, a subtle shiver racing up her spine. Holding Matty's hand, her own artistically inclined fingers seemed to tremble with the touch, as if his warmth had triggered a symphony of sensations within her.

Her gaze flickered up from the task at hand, meeting Matty's eyes. His lips curled into a knowing smirk, a spark of playful mischief dancing in his gaze. He was aware – oh, he was all too aware – of the unsteady flutter that had taken residence in her chest.

"Steady there, Caro," his voice, a velvet caress, danced upon the air. "You make it seem like holding my hand is a monumental task."

Caroline's cheeks flushed, a rosy hue that mirrored the delicate patter of her heartbeat. "It's not that," she murmured, her voice betraying her flustered state. "It's just... I didn't expect..."

Matty's grin widened, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Didn't expect that holding my hand would send your heart into a frenzy?"

A soft huff of laughter escaped her, a mixture of embarrassment and fond exasperation. "Oh, fuck off, dickhead. It's not like I'm accustomed to... well, this."

His fingers curled gently around hers, a reassurance that echoed far beyond the playful banter. "I'm just messing with you. You're doing great, love."

She met his gaze again, a mixture of vulnerability and gratitude painting her features. "You know, you really have a way of making the simplest things feel... significant."

Matty's smile softened, his thumb brushing across her knuckles in a gesture that spoke volumes. "Maybe it's the significance we assign to them that matters most."

Caroline's breath caught at his words, the air between them thick with unspoken sentiments. "You're so pretentious, but I suppose you're right," she replied softly, her voice carrying the weight of a newfound understanding. "We have a way of infusing meaning into the smallest moments, turning them into something memorable."

Matty's gaze remained fixed on her. "It's like painting a canvas," he mused, his voice carrying a hint of wonder. "A single brushstroke can change the entire tone of a piece. And sometimes, the most unassuming strokes create the most profound beauty."

It never failed to astound Caroline how Matty could romanticise the smallest actions with words that would leave the poets weeping. Just one stroke could completely alter an artwork - just like one moment could forever change two people after years of build-up.

Cautiously she continued to flick the colour across each individual nail with as exact precision she could manage with ever so slightly trembling hands. Caroline could feel herself biting the inside of her cheek as she examined every little stroke ensuring it was as perfect as possible. Even though Caroline's hands were shaky they were nothing compared to Matty's. He could never stay still which made it way harder not to smudge the first coat of black polish. She repeated the process with each nail once they were dry before giving Matty a pointed look "Don't move them for the next ten minutes," and at the incredulous one he sent her in return she sighed "you'll fuck them up if you don't let it dry first and then they'll look like shit."

To her surprise Matty seemed to actually concentrate on keeping them still after that so Caroline asked something which had been playing on her mind recently in as casual a tone as she could manage "So, have you guys been planning any post-album release celebrations?"

Matty's eyes held a playful glint as he leaned back a little, clearly welcoming the diversion from the drying nail polish. "Yeah actually, it's been a weird one to figure out but when the rules lighten up a bit next week Ross, Hann and Carly are going to come out here for the night" he replied with a nonchalant shrug. "it's just going to be a chill little party with the boys, it's kind of weird you know - this is the longest we've ever been apart and I genuinely think if I hadn't had George here I would've gone mental."

“I get it," Caroline nodded "you lot are genuinely like brothers. It must have been really hard to be apart from them for this long. But the party's a good shout, we all need it."

Caroline was actually thrilled to hear the other half of the band were going to be joining them next week. Adam had been one of her closest friends for years now but she hadn't seen him or Ross in nearly a year now because of everything that had gone down and how busy work had been for her before that. The last time had been when they headlined Reading and she'd gone to support them.

“It has been," he nodded in agreement "but luckily I've had this really cool girl to keep me company."

"Oh yeah,? Caroline raised a brow "do tell me more."

"Well, this really cool girl happens to have an uncanny ability to make even the most mundane moments feel like an adventure. She's got this way of brightening up the room with just a smile, and her laughter is like music that you can't help but dance to. And even though she's got shit taste in wine I can't stop thinking about her."

Caroline was proud of how neutral she was able to keep her expression after the string of compliments, instead a playful smile tugged at the corners of her lips "sounds like quite the character. I bet she's a handful."

Matty's grin widened, his gaze locked onto hers. "Oh, you have no idea. She's a whirlwind of wit and charm, always keeping me on my toes. And seriously intelligent it's amazing - she's got this incredible depth to her, I've never met anyone like her."

Caroline felt a warm blush creeping up her cheeks, his words painting a picture she never quite saw in herself. "You're exaggerating, Matty."

He shook his head, the sincerity in his expression unwavering. "Not at all. You're one of a kind, Caro."

Their banter had taken on a more earnest tone, a subtle shift in the air that made their words feel weightier, more significant. As their gazes locked, a fleeting moment passed between them, an unspoken understanding that went beyond the playful façade.

"You're not so bad yourself, Healy," Caroline replied, her voice softer than before. "In fact, you're kind of growing on me."

Matty's laughter rang out, a warm and genuine sound that filled the space around them. "Growing on you, am I? If I recall correctly I think you're underselling it love."

Immediately deflecting, Caroline examined his nails which were luckily dry now so she could use it as an excuse "would you look at that," she remarked "my artistry is dry now so you can move again."

"Very convenient timing," he hummed with a small smirk "thanks love, I'll see you later."

He was infuriatingly pleased with himself for being able to rile her up and it showed with his giddy walk out of her room and smug expression. And Caroline was left with the realisation that she couldn't possibly deny that the feelings were reciprocated after that.

❦

Their interactions had become charged with an unspoken tension, a magnetic pull that neither of them could resist. Caroline would catch herself openly blushing at the double entendres that slipped from Matty's lips, and she'd respond with a witty retort that left him grinning. Their playful back-and-forths were a testament to the growing fire that burned brighter between them with each passing day.

Late nights in the studio turned into stolen glances and lingering touches. Matty's fingers would brush against Caroline's as they shared a laugh, and the electricity that sparked between them was undeniable. Their conversations grew more intimate, delving into deeper topics as they shared their hopes, dreams, and fears. It was as if they had built a bridge between their worlds, allowing them to cross into each other's thoughts and feelings.

And then there were the stolen moments—those fleeting instances where their eyes would lock and time seemed to stand still. In those moments, they communicated without words, a silent exchange of emotions that left them both breathless. Yet, despite the undeniable chemistry that simmered between them, they both held back. It was as if they were standing on the edge of a precipice, gazing into the depths below, unsure of whether to take the plunge. Fear of crossing that line and risking their friendship held them back, even as their hearts yearned for something more.

But the tension was becoming too much to bear, the unspoken words hanging in the air like a melody waiting to be sung. As they sat in the studio one evening, the dim light casting shadows across their faces, it was as if the universe itself conspired to push them closer together. Matty's fingers brushed against Caroline's hand, his touch lingering longer than usual, and she looked up at him with a mixture of vulnerability and longing.

Their eyes locked, and in that moment, the world around them faded away. The unspoken words hung heavy between them, and it was as if they were teetering on the edge of a precipice once more. The uncharted territory of their feelings was both exhilarating and terrifying, and they could no longer ignore the undeniable truth that had been building between them.

Matty would strum a few chords on his guitar, his eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her heart race. He'd playfully croon a line or two, his voice low and seductive, leaving her momentarily breathless. Caroline, never one to back down from a challenge, would respond with a teasing smile, her voice laced with a hint of suggestion.

"Is this your way of serenading me, Healy?" she'd quip, her fingers tracing patterns on the edge of the mixing board.

Matty would chuckle, his eyes never leaving hers. "Maybe, Caro. Or maybe I just can't resist showing off for you."

Their playful exchanges were like a secret language, a way of communicating their growing feelings without the need for overt declarations. Matty's touches became more lingering, his fingers brushing against hers when passing her a cup of coffee or playfully tousling her hair. Caroline found herself leaning into his proximity, relishing the warmth of his presence and the electricity that crackled between them.

Nights spent in the studio became their haven, where they shared whispered confidences and private jokes that only they understood. Matty would strum his guitar while Caroline lounged on the couch, their eyes locking in a silent understanding that transcended words. And when the music faded, it was replaced by a charged silence, a moment permeating unspoken desires.

❦

Their game of flirtation reached its pinnacle during a game night that Louis had organized. The atmosphere was relaxed, the laughter contagious as they played rounds of charades and board games. Matty's eyes seemed to follow Caroline's every move, his gaze lingering on her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

During a particularly competitive round of Monopoly where they'd been secretly robbing money off of George all night, Matty leaned in close to her ear, his voice low and sultry. "I have a feeling we'd make a pretty good team in private too, Caro."

Caroline's breath caught, her heart racing as his words sent a rush of heat through her veins. She shot him a playful glance, her lips curling into a smirk. "Oh, is that right? Are you suggesting we team up for some private games?"

Matty's lips quirked up in a mischievous smile. "You have no idea what kind of games I have in mind, Caro."

Their eyes locked in a charged moment, the air between them thick with unspoken promises. And as the game night continued, their flirtation took on a new level of intensity, a dance of desire that left them both exhilarated and yearning for more.

In the midst of their playful banter and lingering touches, they both knew that the line between friendship and something more had blurred beyond recognition. The studio, once a place of music and creativity, had become a canvas for their emotions, a space where their hearts were laid bare through stolen glances and whispered words.

And as the days turned into nights, and the flirtation evolved into something deeper, they found themselves standing at the edge of something beautiful and unknown, on the precipice of crossing the boundary from friendship to romance. The studio's walls held the echoes of their laughter, their music, and the unspoken promise of what could be—a love story in the making, written in notes and lyrics, and sealed with stolen glances and tender moments.

Caroline's heart raced, her cheeks tinged with a rosy hue. "Oh, is that so?" she replied, her voice a playful whisper. "Are you suggesting that we're becoming dangerously close?"

Matty's lips curved into a smug smile. "I wouldn't say dangerously," he countered, his tone dripping with flirtatious charm. "But definitely... intriguingly close."

Their banter was a dance of words, a playful exchange that carried with it a magnetic pull. With each passing day, their boundaries blurred, and what had started as friendly teasing began to hold a deeper resonance.

One evening, as they lounged in the living area of the studio, Caroline let out a contented sigh. "You know," she said softly, her gaze fixed on the flickering flames in the fireplace, "I never thought I'd find myself in a place like this."

Matty's gaze shifted to her, his expression curious. "What do you mean?"

Caroline turned to meet his eyes, a genuine smile gracing her lips. "I mean, in the company of someone who makes me feel... seen, appreciated. It's been a long time since I've felt this way."

Matty's fingers brushed against hers, a gentle touch that sent a shiver down her spine. "Caroline," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity, "you deserve to be with someone who sees your worth and appreciates you for who you are."

Their eyes locked in a moment of quiet understanding, and Caroline felt her heart swell with a mixture of vulnerability and hope. In that instant, the flirtatious banter, the shared laughter, and the unspoken emotions came together to form a tapestry of connection that felt undeniably real. And as the future remained uncertain, one thing was clear: they were no longer just friends; they were two souls entwined in a journey of discovery, where each stolen glance and whispered word carried the promise of something more.

The studio held its secrets like a silent confidante, the walls witnesses to the clandestine dance between Matty and Caroline. Their newfound connection had blossomed into something they both yearned for, a tender and exhilarating romance that sent their hearts racing with each stolen moment.

It was a game of secrecy, of stolen glances across the room when they thought no one was looking. Matty's fingers brushed against Caroline's whenever they passed each other, a fleeting touch that left her skin tingling with anticipation. Their conversations were laced with double meanings, every innocent word carrying a hidden subtext that only they could decipher.

Late nights took on a new intensity. As Louis and George retired for the evening, Matty and Caroline found themselves alone, the world reduced to the confined space where music and emotions intertwined. They would sit side by side on the couch, their shoulders brushing against each other, as they whispered secrets that only the night could hear.

"I can't believe we're sneaking around like teenagers," Caroline would murmur with a soft laugh, her eyes locked onto the moonlight streaming through the window. Thinking of how she would have freaked if she'd known this was how things would end up with Matty all those years ago.

Matty's hand would find hers, their fingers entwining in a silent promise. "It's like our little secret," he'd reply, his voice a low, intimate whisper that sent shivers down her spine.

Caroline would often find herself perched on a stool, her eyes fixed on Matty as he played. The way his fingers moved across the strings held a hypnotic quality, as if the music was an extension of his soul. And when he looked up at her, the intensity in his gaze left her breathless, a silent acknowledgement of the unspoken connection between them.

They would steal kisses in the dimly lit corners of the studio, their lips meeting in stolen moments of tenderness and longing. Every touch was electrified, every glance a promise of what was to come. It was the result of what felt like a lifetime of yearning and restraint, a beautiful torture that neither of them wanted to end. Like the contents of a snow globe come to fruition and Caroline found it almost impossible to believe something so inherently beautiful and sacred could be hers, could be theirs - and only theirs.

taglist: @indierockgirrl

[darjeelinh]

anything you've lost (that you might be looking for) | rating: mature, 22k, completed

Wylan’s life was already ridden with too many secrets for his own good. And now, after years of neglect, he was pushed into a disastrous PR scheme by his father, with an ultimatum that threatened to erase the very last memory of his mother. All he needed to do was to put his head down and do as he was told.

Jesper had just returned to Ketterdam after his years in Ravka, ready to give up on his vices and to heal from his ruinous past, full of mistakes and scandals. The last thing he needed right now was to get himself into a messy situation that didn’t even involve him in the first place. But one encounter with Wylan was enough to alter his course.

A secret friend group, a secret relationship that neither of them dared put a name to, a looming threat, and a whole lot of media frenzy.

___

or, a modern AU where Wylan is an art curator, Jesper is the son of Jan Van Eck’s biggest business opponent on the jurda market, and the Crow Club is the only thing they have in common.

(bonus: Hanne hanging out with the Crows, because I love Hanne!)

This fic was a damn rollercoaster to write, so I hope you would feel the same reading it. In my friend's words: K-Drama, but the K stood for Ketterdam. Strap in!

Special thanks again to @starklystar for beta-ing this beast and for screaming about wesper with me <3

edit: now with an epilogue!

[mossytrashcan]

“I dunno what pronouns to use for hanne” they cried after they got a masc haircut, dressed as a boy multiple times, murdered a prince and became the prince, and then he literally started picking out boy names at the end of the book. so definitely not she

[vinylandcoffeecollection]

Posting this excerpt that I wrote recently for no reason other than life has been crazy and I haven’t written in ages. This imagines one of Cellophane House Matty’s first hang outs with Hann, before George comes on the scene and before they know much about each other. No idea if this’ll be anything but it feels good to be writing again!

“Maybe I don’t wanna talk to girls,” Matty shot back. He fixed his gaze on the neck of the guitar, flexing his left hand and forming the four finger G chord. He plucked the strings delicately with his right, willing the Year Ten boy to notice. No three finger chords around Adam Hann.

He heard Adam’s short laugh. “They seem to want to talk to you.”

This time, he looked up when he spoke. “Maybe I’d rather talk to boys”. He played with the loose bit of skin by his thumb nail for an entire two beats in his head, keeping the eye contact with Adam throughout. Not defiance exactly but a steady look, a stillness floating above the skittering beat of his pulse in his neck.

He knew he wasn’t imagining the slight flush that started in Adam’s shirt collar and spread rapidly up his neck as he nodded. But he didn’t look away.

[god-has-entered-my-body]

matty finding waldo *NOT CLICKBAIT*

[abiiors]

twelve days of christmas

okay, i'm back again because i had so much fun in october! but this time it's a bit different—as you can see, there are only 12 prompts and not 31 so you can have a bit more flexibility about when you want to post :)

no rules as such—you can write 1 or 2 or all 12 and post them any time in the month of december. once again, i'm posting this a month in advance so people have the time to plan + write

i hope you guys participate again and i would absolutely love to read your fics so pls tag #christmas75 if you use these <33

typed list of prompts under the cut

1] secret santa 2] we went to winter wonderland 3] under the mistletoe 4] nightmare before christmas 5] naughty vs nice 6] gingerbread house 7] all i want for christmas 8] eggnog and mulled wine 9] snowed in 10] ugly sweater party 11] home for christmas 12] midnight kisses

(ps: i made these for me and my mutuals in the 1975 fandom but if you want to use these for other fandoms, please feel free to do so :) however i'd really appreciate if you didn't use the christmas75 tag <3)