#matty healy fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cryiingoutloud · 5 months ago

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☽〝 an encounter ( matty healy x reader )

in which you are an extra in a music video, and an ordinary day of work turns into a scorching encounter with the frontman of the band.

warnings: 18+, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, masturbation, needy matty aaah, like he can’t shut the fuck up for a second. wc: 11.4k

the studio was a hive of activity, humming with an energy that felt almost suffocating. bright spotlights hung from rigging high above, casting harsh white light over the massive set. everywhere you looked, people rushed about with clipboards and headsets, shouting instructions over the pounding bass of the track that played on a loop.

you stood awkwardly near the edge of it all, feeling completely out of place. just an extra— a last-minute addition to fill space in the background shots. the director’s assistant had told you to “mingle casually,” but that was easier said than done when everyone else seemed to know exactly what they were doing. you felt invisible, and maybe that was a good thing. no one would notice if you just stayed out of the way.

but someone did notice.

he was lounging in a director’s chair near the center of the chaos, one leg draped lazily over the armrest, a cigarette balanced between his fingers. matty healy. you didn’t need to be a fan to recognize him— the messy black curls, the tattoos peeking out from the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt, the devil-may-care smirk that seemed permanently etched onto his face. he looked every inch the rockstar, exuding a kind of casual arrogance that made him impossible to ignore.

you hadn’t expected him to be so magnetic in person. photos didn’t do him justice. there was something about the way he carried himself, the way he leaned back in his chair like he owned the room, that made you hyperaware of his presence. and then his eyes met yours.

it was fleeting— just a quick glance as he took a drag from his cigarette. but it was enough to make your pulse quicken. you told yourself it meant nothing. he probably wasn’t even looking at you. you were just part of the scenery.

but then it happened again. and again.

by the third time, you couldn’t pretend anymore. matty healy was looking at you.

the hum of activity on set didn’t falter for a second, but to you, it felt as though the noise had dulled. the air shifted every time matty’s eyes landed on you, his dark gaze sharp and unrelenting, cutting through the chaos and pinning you in place. you tried to convince yourself it was a coincidence. maybe he was bored. maybe he was zoning out and just happened to be looking your way.

but then his gaze turned deliberate. calculated. his lips quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smile, more like a quiet acknowledgment. a dare.

you crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly hyperaware of how exposed you felt in this crowd of strangers. you didn’t belong here— not among the carefully curated glamour of the other extras and certainly not in his world. you looked away, fixing your attention on a grip carrying a massive piece of equipment, but the feeling of his eyes lingered, a weight you couldn’t shrug off.

you didn’t realize how close he was until you caught the scent of him— cigarettes, leather, and something faintly spicy that clung to his skin. when you glanced up, he was standing only a few feet away, talking to the director. his body language was loose, casual, but there was an edge to the way he moved, like he was aware of the way every set of eyes followed him. he said something low to the director, and the older man nodded, glancing around the room.

“her,” matty said, his voice carrying just enough for you to hear. the word hit you like a jolt of static. you didn’t process it at first, not until the director’s gaze followed matty’s finger— pointed directly at you.

your breath caught in your throat. no, surely he didn’t mean—

“you,” the director called out, his tone brisk and impatient, like he didn’t have time for hesitation. “come here.”

you froze. your mind screamed at you to move, but your feet refused to cooperate. the director frowned, gesturing sharply with one hand, and before you knew it, someone was nudging you forward, pushing you into the spotlight. every instinct told you to shrink back, but there was no escape. not when matty’s gaze was fixed on you like a spotlight of its own.

when you finally stepped into the center of the set, you felt small, out of place under the weight of so many eyes. matty, however, looked utterly at ease. he stood just a few feet away, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, his head tilted as he watched you approach. the corners of his mouth curved upward in something resembling amusement.

“relax,” he said, his voice low and rich, cutting through the buzzing anxiety in your head. “i don’t bite.”

the director clapped his hands, already moving on to instructions. “we need something raw, something spontaneous. the last scene fell flat. a kiss, unscripted, unplanned— it’ll be perfect.”

your stomach dropped. a kiss?

before you could form a coherent thought, matty took a step closer. he was tall - taller than you expected - and the sharp angles of his face seemed even more pronounced up close. his curls fell messily across his forehead, and his dark eyes gleamed with something unreadable, something dangerous.

“you’re okay with this, yeah?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost gentle. the question caught you off guard. it didn’t match the intensity of his presence, the raw magnetism that seemed to radiate from him.

“i—” you swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how dry your throat had become. “yeah. i guess.”

his lips twitched into a half-smile, but he didn’t say anything else. he just waited, watching you with a patience that felt somehow more unnerving than the chaos surrounding you.

“all right, places, everyone!” the director called out, his voice snapping like a whip. the crew bustled around you, shifting cameras, adjusting lights, barking last-minute instructions. you barely registered any of it. all you could focus on was matty— on the way he stood so still amidst the motion, like a storm gathering in the eye of a hurricane.

“action!”

the word rang out, and before you could even process it, matty was moving.

he closed the distance between you in a single, unhurried step, his hand lifting to cradle the side of your face. his touch was warm, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek, and then his lips were on yours.

the kiss wasn’t what you expected. you thought it would be quick, perfunctory, something to get the shot and move on. but matty kissed you like he had all the time in the world, like there was nothing else in the room worth paying attention to. his mouth was soft yet firm, coaxing rather than demanding, and the taste of cigarettes lingered faintly on his lips.

your body froze at first, overwhelmed by the sudden intimacy, but then his other hand found your waist, his fingers pressing lightly against your hip, and something inside you cracked. you kissed him back without thinking, your lips parting slightly as he deepened the connection. his tongue brushed against yours, a teasing flicker that sent a shiver down your spine, and your hands moved of their own accord, gripping the fabric of his shirt as though to steady yourself.

the world around you blurred. you couldn’t hear the director shouting for another angle, couldn’t see the camera operators adjusting their lenses. all you could feel was matty— his heat, his scent, the way his body seemed to mold perfectly against yours.

and then, just as suddenly as it began, it ended. matty pulled back, his lips lingering against yours for a fraction of a second before he stepped away. his hands dropped to his sides, and his expression shifted back into something unreadable, the intensity in his eyes shuttered behind a veil of practiced indifference.

“cut!” the director yelled, his voice jolting you back into reality. the room buzzed with activity once more, but you felt like you were moving through molasses, your limbs heavy and your thoughts sluggish.

“not bad,” matty said, his voice low and smooth as he leaned in just slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “you might’ve even enjoyed that.”

before you could respond - before you could even process the low, teasing lilt of his words - he stepped away, disappearing into the crowd of crew members and equipment as though nothing had happened.

you stood there for a moment, rooted to the spot, your heart pounding against your ribs.

“not bad,” you muttered under your breath, still reeling. it felt like the understatement of the century.

you spent the next hour trying to focus on anything but him. the director barked out instructions, moving extras into new positions, setting up shots that required wide angles and sweeping camera movements. it should have been easy to lose yourself in the crowd, just another nameless face blending into the backdrop. and for a while, you managed it.

until you felt him again.

matty was impossible to ignore. even when he wasn’t near you, his presence lingered like static in the air, crackling faintly against your skin. you tried not to look at him, but every time you did, he was already watching. his gaze wasn’t subtle— it was deliberate, steady, a pull you couldn’t resist no matter how much you tried. and he knew it. the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

he wasn’t keeping his distance, either. between takes, he wandered the set with a casual sort of purpose, his strides loose and unhurried. once, he passed close enough that his arm brushed yours, and even that fleeting contact sent a spark shooting down your spine. he glanced back over his shoulder as he walked away, like he was waiting for you to react. you refused to give him the satisfaction, but your heart betrayed you, hammering against your ribs so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

the first time he spoke to you again, it was barely more than a whisper.

“doing all right?” he asked, his voice curling around the words, low and smooth.

you turned to find him standing just behind you, far too close for comfort. he leaned in slightly, his dark eyes flicking over your face with lazy curiosity, like he was cataloging every detail. his proximity was disarming— his body warm, his scent all-encompassing. you swallowed hard, willing yourself not to lean into him.

“i’m fine,” you said, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

“good.” he didn’t move back. if anything, he leaned in closer, his voice dipping even lower. “wouldn’t want you to feel… overwhelmed.”

the emphasis on the word sent a flush creeping up your neck. he was teasing you, testing your boundaries, and the smug tilt of his lips told you he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having.

“i’m fine,” you repeated, sharper this time. “thanks for checking.”

his grin widened, but he finally stepped back, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “message received.”

by the time the director called for a short break, you were desperate for a moment to collect yourself. the lights were too hot, the noise too loud, and matty’s relentless teasing had left you feeling frayed, stretched thin by a tension you couldn’t shake. you slipped away from the set, weaving through the maze of equipment until you found a quieter corner— a storage area cluttered with spare cables, cases, and forgotten props.

leaning against the wall, you took a deep breath, letting the relative silence wash over you. your pulse was still racing, and no amount of logic could calm it. this was ridiculous. he was just some musician. a man. you’d kissed him, sure, but it was for work. it didn’t mean anything.

“found you.”

the voice startled you, low and smooth, cutting through the stillness like a blade. you turned sharply, your breath catching as matty stepped into the room. his presence filled the small space immediately, the sharp angles of his face cast into shadow by the dim overhead light. he wasn’t smirking anymore. his expression was something else entirely— intent, focused, like he’d just found exactly what he was looking for.

“you’re not supposed to be back here,” you said, your voice unsteady.

“neither are you,” he countered, leaning casually against the doorframe. “guess that makes us even.”

you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to put some kind of barrier between you and the weight of his gaze. “did you follow me?”

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he took a step closer, closing the distance between you with an ease that made your pulse jump. he stopped just short of your personal space, tilting his head as he studied you.

“you ran off earlier,” he said finally, his tone soft but pointed. “didn’t even stick around to hear if the director liked the shot.”

you shrugged, trying to appear unaffected. “figured it wasn’t my business.”

“hmm.” his gaze flicked over you, lingering on your lips for just a fraction of a second too long. “seemed pretty personal to me.”

your heart stuttered, your skin prickling with heat. “it was just a scene.”

“was it?” the question was barely above a murmur, but it carried the weight of something heavier, something dangerous. he took another step forward, and this time, you didn’t move back. “because it didn’t feel like ‘just a scene’ to me.”

you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. the air between you felt thick, charged with something you couldn’t name but couldn’t ignore. every nerve in your body screamed at you to step away, to put some distance between you, but you couldn’t move. not when he was this close, his breath warm against your cheek, his dark eyes holding you in place like a magnet.

“tell me i’m wrong,” he said, his voice dropping even lower, rough and intimate. “and i’ll leave you alone.”

your throat tightened. you wanted to say it. you wanted to push him away, to break whatever spell he’d cast over you. but the words wouldn’t come. instead, your silence hung heavy between you, louder than anything you could have said.

matty’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile, more like a quiet acknowledgment of victory. he lifted a hand, his fingers brushing lightly against your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his.

“you’re not going to say it,” he murmured, and there was something almost tender in his voice, a softness that made your chest ache. “are you?”

the words hung in the air between you, heavy and charged. matty’s hand lingered on your jaw, his thumb brushing a feather-light stroke along the curve of your cheek. you felt the press of his gaze, dark and intent, pulling at something deep in your chest. but instead of shying away like you might have earlier, you met his stare head-on.

and you smiled.

it wasn’t much at first - just the faintest curve of your lips - but it was enough to make matty falter, his expression shifting ever so slightly. his brows knit together, like he wasn’t sure he’d seen what he thought he did. that hesitation was all you needed.

“who says you’re not wrong?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady, laced with just enough bite to let him know you weren’t going to back down.

the corner of his mouth twitched, his grip on your jaw tightening just enough for you to feel the heat of his skin. “am i?”

you tilted your head slightly, forcing his hand to drop away. “maybe you are,” you said, stepping out of the shadow he’d cast over you. “or maybe you’re just trying too hard.”

matty let out a soft laugh, low and rough, but there was a spark of something behind it— surprise, maybe, or curiosity. you’d caught him off guard, and you weren’t about to let him recover so easily.

“trying too hard?” he echoed, straightening. “is that what you think?”

you shrugged, feigning nonchalance even as your heart pounded in your chest. “you’re laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think? all the staring, the brooding— it’s very… obvious.”

his lips parted slightly, as if he was about to respond, but instead, he let his gaze rake over you, slow and deliberate. when his eyes met yours again, the playful smirk had returned, sharper this time. “you don’t seem to mind.”

“oh, i didn’t say i minded,” you said, your tone sharper now, a teasing edge creeping in. “i just think it’s funny. you don’t have to work so hard, you know.”

matty tilted his head, studying you like he was seeing you for the first time. “you’ve got some fight in you after all,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

you crossed your arms over your chest, the movement deliberate, designed to draw his attention. it worked. his eyes flicked down, just briefly, before snapping back up to your face. “were you expecting me to swoon?” you asked, arching a brow. “sorry to disappoint.”

his laugh this time was louder, rougher, and it sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. “i don’t know if ‘disappointed’ is the word i’d use.”

“good,” you said, your voice dropping just slightly, enough to make him lean in closer. “because i’d hate to let you down.”

the shift in your dynamic was almost palpable. where you’d been shy and unsure before, now you had the upper hand, and you weren’t afraid to wield it. matty, for all his bravado, seemed thrown by your sudden confidence, though he hid it well behind his usual smirk. still, you noticed the way his posture changed, the way his eyes lingered on you just a little too long, like he was trying to figure out exactly what had shifted.

and then you pushed it further.

“you’re staring again,” you said, the words slipping out before you could think better of them. they were bold, teasing, but you didn’t regret them. not when they made Matty’s smirk falter for just a split second.

“am i?” he asked, his voice low, almost a growl.

“you are.” you took a step closer, closing the distance between you until you could see the faint flecks of gold in his dark eyes. “i’m starting to think you have a staring problem.”

matty tilted his head, his curls falling messily across his forehead. he looked at you for a long moment, his gaze heavy, calculating. “and i’m starting to think you like it,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. “what if i do?” you asked, letting the words hang between you like bait. “what are you going to do about it?”

something in his expression shifted— an almost imperceptible change, but enough to make your breath catch. his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and his hand twitched at his side like he was stopping himself from reaching for you. he took a step forward, and suddenly, the air between you felt thick, suffocating in the best way.

“you’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured, his voice so low it sent a shiver down your spine.

“and you’re not?” you shot back, tilting your chin up just slightly, enough to make him notice. enough to make him react.

he did.

matty’s hand shot out, gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him. the movement was so sudden, so sure, that you barely had time to process it before you felt it - him - hard and undeniable, pressing against your thigh. the realization sent a jolt of heat straight to your core, and your breath hitched despite your best efforts to remain composed.

“still think i’m trying too hard?” he asked, his voice rough, his lips so close to your ear that you could feel the heat of his breath.

you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. instead, you looked up at him, your heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst. his eyes were darker now, heavy-lidded, his pupils blown wide with something that made your stomach flip.

“i—” you swallowed hard, struggling to find your voice. “you’re definitely trying.”

his lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile breaking through the intensity of his expression. “and?”

you knew what he was asking. you could feel the tension coiling between you, thick and electric, begging for release. part of you wanted to push back, to keep playing the game, but another part - a louder, more insistent part - wanted to see how far you could push him.

“and,” you said, your voice steady now, bold, “it’s working.”

that was all it took. matty let out a low sound that was somewhere between a growl and a laugh, his grip on your waist tightening as he shifted his hips just slightly, pressing himself more firmly against you. the movement drew a soft gasp from your lips, and his eyes lit up at the sound, his smirk returning in full force.

“you’re full of surprises,” he murmured, his free hand lifting to brush a strand of hair away from your face. the gesture was almost tender, but there was nothing soft about the way his eyes raked over you, his gaze smoldering with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“i could say the same about you,” you managed, your voice breathless but still sharp enough to draw another low laugh from him.

“yeah?” his hand slid up from your waist, his fingers grazing the curve of your ribs, and you had to bite your lip to keep from letting out another sound. “what’s surprising about me?”

your breath caught as he shifted again, the pressure of him against your thigh sending a fresh wave of heat rushing through you. “that you’re not as smooth as you think you are.”

that earned you a grin, sharp and wolfish. “you’re lucky i like a challenge.”

“am i?” you asked, leaning in just enough to make him chase you, to make him close the final gap between you.

“very,” he said, his voice a low growl, his lips brushing yours in a way that was maddeningly light, teasing, almost cruel.

matty’s lips hovered just a fraction of an inch from yours, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him, close enough that his breath fanned over your skin with every shallow inhale. his hand lingered on your waist, his fingers pressing into the curve of your side with just enough pressure to remind you how much control he could take— if he wanted to.

but he didn’t. not yet.

“i’m not smooth?” he repeated, his voice low, teasing, like he was tasting the words as he said them. his thumb traced a lazy circle over your ribcage, sending a ripple of heat through your body. “that’s a bold accusation.”

you smiled, your breath catching as you felt him shift again, his hips pressing more firmly against your thigh. the hard, unmistakable evidence of his desire was searing even through the layers of clothing, and you swallowed hard, your cheeks flaming despite yourself. still, you held your ground.

“bold, maybe,” you said, your voice softer now, but steady. “but accurate.”

matty let out a low hum, tilting his head as he regarded you. his gaze flicked over your face, lingering on your lips before sliding back up to meet your eyes. the weight of it was enough to make your knees feel weak, but you refused to back down. you wanted to see how far you could push him, how much you could unravel that tightly wound self-assurance he wore like armor.

“you’ve got a mouth on you,” he murmured, his smirk returning, sharper this time. “i like that.”

“i bet you do,” you shot back, leaning in just slightly, enough to make him close the distance between you. it worked— his breath hitched, his hand tightening on your waist, and the flicker of surprise in his eyes sent a surge of satisfaction through you.

for the first time all night, you felt like you had the upper hand.

“you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone low and rough, the words more accusation than question.

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you let your hands drift down to rest lightly on his chest, your fingers brushing over the fabric of his shirt. his breath caught, and you felt the way his muscles tensed under your touch, the tension coiling tight just beneath the surface. you dragged your fingers lower, just to see what he’d do, and the way his jaw clenched sent a thrill racing through you.

“maybe i am,” you said finally, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “why? is that a problem?”

matty let out a low laugh, his hands sliding to your hips and pulling you closer, the movement so smooth and fluid it made your heart stutter. “not for me,” he said, his voice a low growl. “but you might regret it.”

you arched a brow, refusing to let him intimidate you. “i doubt that.”

“is that right?” his smirk widened, but there was something darker in his expression now, a heat in his eyes that sent your pulse racing. “you think you can keep this up, do you?”

“why not?” you asked, your voice dipping just slightly, enough to let him know you weren’t backing down. “you’re not exactly hard to figure out.”

the moment the words left your mouth, you saw the shift in his posture, the subtle flicker of something predatory in his gaze. he leaned in, his breath brushing over your cheek, and you braced yourself for whatever sharp retort he was about to throw at you.

but he didn’t speak. instead, he rolled his hips forward, pressing himself against you more deliberately this time, the hard line of him dragging against your thigh in a way that made your breath catch.

you felt the heat rush to your face, but you refused to look away, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. instead, you let your hands drift lower, your fingers brushing the waistband of his trousers in a move that was just bold enough to make him tense.

“careful,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, like he was holding himself back by sheer force of will. “you’re playing with fire.”

“maybe i like fire,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words landed with the force of a challenge.

matty’s lips twitched, his smirk giving way to something darker, something hungrier. “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“don’t i?” you asked, tilting your head. you dragged your fingers along the waistband of his trousers again, slower this time, just to see how far you could push him. “you don’t seem like the type to hold back.”

his breath hitched, his hands tightening on your hips as his head dipped lower, his curls brushing against your cheek. “i usually don’t,” he admitted, his voice rough and raw. “but you’re making it difficult.”

“good,” you said, your lips curving into a smile that you knew would drive him mad. “i’d hate for this to be too easy.”

for a moment, he didn’t respond. he just looked at you, his gaze heavy, searing, and you felt the weight of it in every inch of your body. his hands slid higher, his thumbs brushing the bare skin beneath your shirt, and the deliberate slowness of his movements made your breath catch.

“you’re trouble,” he said finally, his tone low and almost amused. “i knew it the second i saw you.”

“then maybe you should’ve left me alone,” you shot back, the words bold, reckless, but they made him laugh— a low, rough sound that sent a thrill racing through you.

“not a chance,” he murmured, his head dipping lower until his lips were just a breath away from yours. “not when you look at me like that.”

the chaos of the set melted away the moment matty grabbed your hand. he didn’t ask, didn’t explain— just laced his fingers with yours and pulled you through the maze of equipment and crew, his grip firm and insistent. you barely had time to catch your breath as you followed him, your pulse racing and your skin buzzing from the electricity crackling between you.

when he finally pushed open the door to his changing room and pulled you inside, the sharp click of the lock sliding into place seemed to echo in the small space. the air was different here— still heavy with tension but quieter, more intimate, as if the room itself had been holding its breath, waiting for you both to arrive.

the space was simple but messy, the telltale signs of matty’s presence scattered everywhere: a leather jacket draped carelessly over the back of a chair, an ashtray with a half-smoked cigarette still smoldering, makeup and hair products cluttering the vanity. the faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the smell of cigarettes and something faintly earthy— something that was entirely him.

you barely had a chance to take it all in before matty spun you around and pressed you against the door, his body flush against yours. the solid weight of him was grounding and overwhelming all at once, and your breath hitched as his hands found your waist, his grip firm and possessive.

“been driving me fucking crazy,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, the words spilling out against your neck as his lips found your skin. “all night. watching you, teasing me…”

“teasing you?” you shot back, your voice shaky but teasing. “you’ve been staring at me like i’m the only person here.”

“you are,” he said simply, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. the blunt honesty of his words sent a jolt of heat through you, and you let out a soft gasp as his lips trailed lower, kissing and biting a path down your neck.

your hands found his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping you upright. his touch was everywhere - his lips, his hands, the heat of his body pressing into yours - and you felt yourself melt into him, your earlier boldness giving way to the raw, desperate need he’d ignited in you.

“matty,” you breathed, the sound of his name spurring him on. he groaned low in his throat, his hands sliding up your sides to tangle in your hair as he pulled your mouth to his.

the kiss was searing, all teeth and tongue and barely contained hunger. he kissed you like he couldn’t get enough, like he wanted to devour you whole, and you gave as good as you got, your fingers tangling in his curls as you pulled him closer. his lips moved against yours with a deliberate intensity, and when he nipped at your bottom lip, you let out a soft moan that made him press harder against you, his hips rolling into yours in a way that left no question about what he wanted.

“fuck,” he muttered against your lips, his voice rough and strained. “you’re—”

he didn’t finish the sentence, didn’t have to. the way his hands roamed your body, his fingers skimming the curve of your waist before gripping your hips, said more than words ever could. he lifted you just slightly, pinning you more firmly against the door, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding onto him like your life depended on it.

the heat between you was unbearable, each kiss and touch stoking the fire that threatened to consume you both. when matty finally pulled back, his breathing ragged, his pupils blown wide with desire, you felt like you might collapse without the support of the door behind you.

“we need…” he trailed off, glancing around the room like he was searching for something. his eyes landed on the vanity, cluttered with makeup brushes, compacts, and an open water bottle. he smirked, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs. “come here.”

before you could respond, he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you the few steps to the desk and setting you down on its edge. the scattered items clattered as he pushed them aside, but neither of you cared. his hands were back on you in an instant, gripping your hips as he stepped between your legs, his body fitting perfectly into the space you’d made for him.

“you’re trouble,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “i fucking love it.”

you didn’t have a chance to respond before he kissed you again, his mouth hot and demanding as his hands roamed over your thighs, squeezing and caressing in a way that left you trembling. your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and the low groan he let out at the contact sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

matty’s hands slid higher, his fingers brushing the hem of your shirt before slipping beneath it to explore the bare skin of your waist. the rough pads of his fingers against your soft skin were intoxicating, and you arched into his touch, your head falling back as his lips left yours to trail down your neck.

“fuck,” he muttered again, his voice muffled against your skin. “you feel so good.”

“matty,” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair as he kissed his way to your collarbone, his teeth grazing lightly before soothing the spot with his tongue. the combination of pain and pleasure sent a shiver down your spine, and you tightened your legs around him, grinding against him in a way that drew a strangled moan from his throat.

the sound was addictive, and you wanted more. you wanted to see just how far you could push him, how much you could unravel that carefully cultivated control he carried like a shield. you slid your hands down his back, gripping the hem of his shirt and tugging it upward. he pulled back just enough to let you strip it off, the fabric catching briefly on his curls before falling to the floor.

your breath caught at the sight of him, his lean frame littered with tattoos, each one a story you wanted to unravel with your fingertips. you reached out, your hands roaming over the smooth planes of his chest, the hard lines of his stomach, and he shuddered under your touch, his hands gripping your thighs so tightly you were sure you’d bruise.

“jesus,” he muttered, his head falling forward to rest against yours. “you’re gonna fucking ruin me.”

you smiled, your fingers tracing the edge of a tattoo on his ribs. “good.”

he laughed, the sound low and rough, before pulling you into another kiss. this one was slower, more deliberate, but no less intense. his hands slid to your back, pressing you against him as his lips moved against yours, and you felt like you might come apart under the weight of it all.

the edge of the desk dug into your thighs, but you didn’t care. all you could think about was the way matty’s body felt against yours, the way his hands explored you like he couldn’t get enough. when his lips left yours to trail lower, kissing and biting a path down your neck to the hollow of your throat, you let out a soft moan that made him groan in response, his fingers digging into your hips.

“say my name,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and pleading. “i need to hear it.”

“matty,” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair as he kissed his way to your collarbone. the sound of his name seemed to spur him on, his lips and hands growing more insistent as he claimed every inch of you he could reach.

you didn’t know how much more of this you could take, the tension between you stretching so taut it felt like it might snap at any moment. but you didn’t want it to end. not yet.

not when it felt this good.

matty’s lips trailed lower, his kisses growing hotter, wetter, and more insistent as they mapped out every inch of your neck, your collarbone, the delicate line of your throat. his hands gripped your hips tightly, his thumbs brushing over the bare skin just below your shirt, and every touch, every press of his mouth, sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through you.

your head fell back, hitting the mirror lightly as you let out a soft moan, your fingers tangling in his dark curls. he groaned at the sound, the vibration of it humming against your skin, and the edge of his teeth as he bit gently into your collarbone sent a shiver racing down your spine.

“you’re going to be the fucking death of me,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin. his fingers slid lower, brushing against the hem of your skirt, and his grip tightened as his lips moved back to your mouth, capturing you in another searing kiss. this time, there was no hesitation, no careful build-up— just pure, unrestrained hunger.

his hands, warm and rough, slipped under the fabric of your skirt, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your thighs. the feeling was electric, and you gasped into his mouth, your hips jerking involuntarily toward his touch. that reaction seemed to spark something in him, and he pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes heavy with lust as they locked onto yours.

“you’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice rough and teasing, but there was an edge to it, a tremor of barely contained desire that made your stomach flip. his hands slid higher, his thumbs brushing against the edge of your underwear, and you saw the exact moment he felt how wet you were.

he froze, his breath hitching sharply as his fingers pressed more firmly against the damp fabric. “fuck,” he whispered, his voice low and strained, like he was barely holding himself together. he looked up at you, his eyes blazing. “you’re already this wet for me?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. instead, you nodded, your cheeks burning under the intensity of his gaze. his smirk returned, sharp and dangerous, and he let out a low, rough laugh that sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

“you’re gonna drive me fucking insane,” he muttered, his fingers hooking under the fabric of your underwear. his movements were slow, deliberate, as though he was savoring every second, but the tension in his body told you he was holding himself back by sheer force of will.

and then he snapped.

with one sharp tug, he tore the flimsy fabric down your legs, his movements rough and impatient. you gasped at the suddenness of it, your thighs clenching instinctively as the cool air hit your heated skin. matty, however, seemed completely oblivious to anything but the scrap of lace now dangling from his fingers.

he brought them to his face, his eyes fluttering shut as he inhaled deeply. the sound he made - a low, guttural moan that seemed to come from deep in his chest - was almost obscene, and it sent a shiver racing through your entire body. his fingers tightened around the fabric, and he looked at you with a kind of raw, unfiltered hunger that made your heart stutter.

“fuck, you smell so good,” he murmured, his voice thick and unsteady. he pressed the fabric to his face again, his eyes slipping shut as he let out another moan, his hips twitching slightly as though even the scent of you was enough to push him closer to the edge.

you couldn’t take your eyes off him, couldn’t process the raw, shameless way he was indulging himself. it should have embarrassed you, but instead, it sent a rush of heat straight to your core, your thighs pressing together in a futile attempt to ease the ache building between them.

matty noticed, of course. his lips curved into a wicked grin as he tossed your underwear to the floor and dropped to his knees in one fluid motion.

he looked up at you from his position on the floor, his curls disheveled, his lips parted, and his eyes heavy-lidded with lust. the sight of him - so shameless, so utterly consumed by his need for you - made your breath catch.

“spread your legs for me,” he said, his voice rough and commanding but laced with a kind of reverence that sent a shiver down your spine.

you hesitated for only a moment before obeying, your thighs parting slowly, deliberately, as you leaned back on your hands for balance. matty’s gaze never left yours, but you could see the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, the tension in his jaw as he clenched his teeth.

“good girl,” he murmured, the words soft but heavy with praise, and the sound of them made your cheeks burn. he slid his hands up your thighs, his palms warm and rough, and the deliberate slowness of his movements made your skin prickle with anticipation.

when he reached the apex of your thighs, his thumbs brushed over your slick folds, and you couldn’t suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips. matty groaned at the sound, his eyes flicking down to where his fingers were exploring you, and the heat in his gaze was almost unbearable.

“look at you,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “so fucking perfect. so wet.” he spread you open with his thumbs, his breath hitching as he took in the sight of you, and you felt like you might melt under the intensity of his stare.

and then his mouth was on you.

the first touch of his tongue was soft, almost tentative, as though he was testing your reaction. you let out a shaky breath, your hips jerking slightly, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. his hands gripped your thighs, holding you firmly in place as his tongue moved over you with slow, deliberate strokes.

you let out a low moan, your fingers tangling in his hair as you arched into his touch. he groaned in response, the sound vibrating against you, and the sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through your entire body.

“fuck, matty,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

he didn’t respond, didn’t look up— he was too focused, too intent on making you fall apart. his tongue moved with maddening precision, tracing every inch of you, teasing and exploring until you were trembling under his touch. he alternated between soft, languid licks and sharper, more insistent movements, his lips and tongue working together in a rhythm that had you gasping for air.

when he finally found your clit, his lips closing around it in a gentle suck, you let out a loud, broken moan, your thighs clenching around his head. matty growled, the sound low and primal, and his hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you open as he worked you with an intensity that left you dizzy.

his tongue circled your clit, his movements slow and deliberate, and you felt the pressure building with every stroke. your hips bucked against his mouth, desperate for more, and he groaned in response, his hands sliding up to grip your hips as he pulled you even closer.

“you taste so fucking good,” he muttered against you, his voice muffled and wrecked. he didn’t wait for a response— just dipped his head lower, his tongue slipping inside you as his nose brushed against your clit.

the sensation was too much and not enough all at once, and you let out a choked moan, your fingers tugging at his curls as your thighs trembled against his grip. he fucked you with his tongue, the movements slow and deliberate, before pulling back to focus on your clit again, his lips and tongue working together in a way that made your vision blur.

“matty, i’m—” you didn’t finish the sentence; you couldn’t. the pressure inside you was building too quickly, too intensely, and all you could do was hold onto him as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

he seemed to sense it, his movements growing more focused, more insistent, as though he was determined to pull you apart. his tongue flicked over your clit, his lips sucking gently before releasing, and the alternating sensations sent you spiraling.

when you came, it was with a loud, broken cry, your body arching off the desk as the wave of pleasure crashed over you. matty didn’t stop, didn’t slow— he kept working you through it, his tongue and lips coaxing every last aftershock from your body until you were trembling in his hands.

finally, he pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal as he looked up at you, his expression equal parts smug and reverent.

“good girl,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “you look so fucking beautiful when you come.”

you couldn’t respond, couldn’t do anything but stare at him, your chest heaving and your skin flushed as you tried to catch your breath. matty smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before leaning up to kiss you again, and the taste of yourself on his lips sent a fresh wave of heat through your already spent body.

matty rose from his knees slowly, almost reluctantly, his hands sliding from your trembling thighs as he stood. his face was flushed, his lips swollen and glistening, and the hunger in his dark eyes hadn’t dimmed in the slightest. if anything, it burned brighter, sharper, like he was fighting to keep himself in check.

you were still catching your breath, your thighs trembling against the edge of the vanity as the aftershocks of your orgasm rolled through you. your head felt light, your body boneless, but the heat in your belly hadn’t fully subsided. if anything, the way matty looked at you - his pupils blown wide, his chest heaving - rekindled the fire almost instantly.

you reached for him instinctively, your hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders. your fingers brushed against the soft skin of his neck, and you could feel the rapid pulse beneath your touch. he groaned softly, leaning into your hands, his lips parting as though he was going to kiss you.

but then you moved lower.

your fingers drifted down to his stomach, brushing the waistband of his trousers. you felt the hard line of his erection pressing against the fabric, and when you let your palm graze over it, his entire body tensed. a low, guttural sound escaped him, his hips jerking slightly into your touch.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice rough and strained. His hand shot out, catching your wrist before you could go any further. “don’t.”

you looked up at him, your lips parting in surprise. “don’t?” you echoed, your voice breathless and confused. “i want to—”

“i know,” he said, cutting you off with a shake of his head. his grip on your wrist softened, but he didn’t let go. instead, he leaned down, his forehead pressing against yours as he took a deep, steadying breath. “i want you to, but… not now.”

his words were quiet, deliberate, but there was a rawness in his tone that made your stomach flip. he was holding himself together by a thread, and you could see it in the tightness of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders.

“i need to feel you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “i’m too fucking close. i can’t wait anymore.”

the honesty in his words, the way his voice broke just slightly at the end, made your heart stutter. you nodded, your breath hitching as his hand slid from your wrist to your waist, his fingers curling around you as he lifted you effortlessly from the vanity.

matty carried you across the room like you weighed nothing, his grip firm but careful, and you clung to him instinctively, your arms wrapping around his neck. he set you down gently on the plush couch, his hands lingering on your hips as he stepped back just slightly, his eyes raking over you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

“you’re still shaking,” he murmured, his voice soft but tinged with something darker, something that made your breath hitch.

“i’m fine,” you said, though your voice betrayed you, shaky and breathless as you tried to collect yourself.

matty’s lips curved into a faint smile, but there was no teasing in his expression now— just raw, unfiltered want. he let out a soft hum, his hands sliding down to your thighs as he knelt in front of you once again.

“you’ll be fine,” he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “but not yet.”

before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing over yours in a kiss that was slower, softer, but no less consuming. his hands moved to your hips, gripping you firmly as he guided you back against the couch, the plush fabric cool against your skin.

when he pulled away, his dark eyes locked onto yours, he shifted to sit back on the couch, his long legs sprawled slightly apart, his body relaxed in a way that was entirely deliberate. one arm draped over the back of the couch, the other rested on his thigh, and he tilted his head as he watched you with a smirk that was equal parts lazy and commanding.

“now,” he said, his voice low and rough, “take care of this for me.”

you followed his gaze to where his erection strained against the fabric of his trousers, the outline of him unmistakable, and your stomach tightened at the sight. the sharp line of his hips, the way the waistband of his trousers dipped just slightly, the bulge pressing against the zipper— it was all enough to make your mouth go dry.

your hands trembled slightly as you reached for him, sliding over his thighs and stopping just short of the waistband of his trousers. his breath hitched, and when you glanced up, his eyes were locked onto yours, his smirk faltering as you dragged your fingers slowly over the taut fabric.

“you’re teasing me,” he muttered, his voice rough and strained.

“am i?” you asked, your tone deliberately innocent, though the way your fingers lingered over his zipper betrayed your intent.

“don’t play with me,” he said, his voice dipping lower, his fingers curling into the couch cushions as though he was trying to hold himself back. “you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

“oh, i think i do,” you said, your lips curving into a small smile as you finally slipped your fingers under the waistband of his trousers. his hips lifted slightly, a silent plea for you to continue, and you took your time, dragging the zipper down slowly, deliberately, just to watch the way his jaw clenched.

when you finally freed him, pushing his trousers down to mid-thigh, you let out a soft gasp, your breath hitching at the sight of him. he was big, the length of him curving slightly upward, the tip red and glistening with precum. the sheer size of him made your stomach flip, and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring, from taking in every detail.

matty groaned softly, the sound rough and needy, and when you looked up, his head had fallen back against the couch, his eyes fluttering shut as he dragged a hand through his messy curls.

“fucking hell,” he muttered, his voice strained. “you’re killing me.”

you couldn’t help but smile, the sight of him - so utterly wrecked, so shamelessly undone - filling you with a rush of confidence. you let your thumb drift over the head of him, brushing against the bead of precum and spreading it slowly. the movement was soft, almost tentative, but it was enough to make him hiss sharply, his hips jerking into your touch.

“fuck,” he said again, his voice tight as his head snapped up, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

you didn’t answer— not with words, at least. instead, you let your thumb brush over him again, slower this time, and the way his entire body tensed beneath your touch sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

your thumb grazed over the slick head of his cock again, this time with a little more pressure, and the sharp hiss that escaped matty’s lips sent a shiver down your spine. his hips jerked involuntarily into your touch, his breath catching in his throat as you wrapped your fingers around him, your grip firm but teasing. the weight of him in your hand, the heat of him, made your pulse race, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip as you slowly began to stroke him.

“jesus,” he muttered, his voice low and wrecked. his head fell back against the couch, his curls spilling over the cushions, and his chest heaved as his hands gripped the edges of the seat. “you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

you smiled, your confidence growing with every broken sound that spilled from his lips. your strokes were slow, deliberate, and you tightened your grip slightly, your thumb brushing against the sensitive underside of his tip. his reaction was immediate— a guttural groan tearing from his throat as his hips bucked into your hand, seeking more.

but just as you started to pick up the pace, he stopped you.

his hand shot out, gripping your wrist with enough force to make you freeze, your movements halting as you looked up at him in surprise. his dark eyes were wild, his pupils blown wide, and his expression was so desperate, so raw, that it made your breath catch.

“no,” he said, his voice hoarse, almost pleading. “i told you, not like this.”

you blinked, your lips parting to speak, but he shook his head, his grip on your wrist softening but not letting go.

“i need to feel you,” he said, his voice cracking slightly on the last word. he leaned forward, his free hand cupping the side of your face as he pressed his forehead to yours. “i need you. now.”

the sheer need in his voice, the way his body trembled beneath your touch, sent a wave of heat rushing through you. your heart pounded in your chest, your skin buzzing with anticipation as his words sank in. he wasn’t asking— he was begging. and the realization made your head spin.

you kissed him then, slow and deliberate, pouring every ounce of your own mounting desire into the press of your lips. matty groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your hips as he pulled you closer, his body pressing into yours with an urgency that left you breathless.

when you pulled back, your breathing ragged, you didn’t hesitate. you rose to your knees, your thighs bracketing his hips as you positioned yourself over him. the heat of his cock, hard and heavy against your inner thigh, sent a jolt of anticipation through you, and you bit your lip as you reached down to guide him to your entrance.

matty’s breath hitched as the tip of him brushed against your slick folds, and his hands tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin like he was holding himself together by a thread. “fuck,” he muttered, his voice strained. “you’re so fucking wet.”

you couldn’t respond, couldn’t find the words to express the way you felt as you shifted your hips, pressing yourself down slowly. the slightest pressure was all it took— your body yielding to him with an ease that made you both moan, your wetness allowing him to slip inside you in one smooth, effortless motion.

you settled over him completely, your thighs bracketing his hips as his cock stretched you impossibly full. he was buried deep, every inch of him, and you could feel him throb inside you, hard and slick from your wetness. matty’s head fell back against the couch, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as his hands gripped your waist almost too tightly, like he needed the anchor to keep from losing himself.

“fuck,” he groaned, the word drawn out, desperate. his fingers flexed against your skin as his hips twitched, pressing deeper, testing the limits of what you could take. “you’re— jesus, you’re so tight.”

the overwhelming stretch and fullness made you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders for balance. he filled you so completely it bordered on too much, but the delicious drag of his cock against your walls had your head spinning. you shifted slightly, rolling your hips experimentally, and the way he groaned- a low, guttural sound that made your stomach flip - spurred you on.

“you’re so big,” you murmured, your voice breathless and shaky. the words weren’t meant to tease, but matty’s reaction was immediate. his eyes snapped open, locking onto yours, and the hunger in his gaze sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

“don’t,” he warned, his voice hoarse, strained. his grip on your hips tightened as you rolled your hips again, slower this time, testing his resolve. “don’t fucking start.”

“why not?” you asked, tilting your head as a faint smile played on your lips. you rolled your hips again, and the way his jaw clenched, his head falling back against the couch, made satisfaction bloom in your chest. “you don’t like it?”

“too much,” he muttered, his voice rough and wrecked. his hips jerked upward instinctively, and the sharp thrust made you gasp, your thighs trembling against him. “fuck, you’re too much.”

you leaned forward, your hands bracing against his chest as you began to move in earnest, slow and deliberate. every rise and fall of your hips drew a broken sound from his throat, his head snapping up to watch you, his dark eyes wild and heavy-lidded with lust.

“look at you,” he muttered, his voice rough and uneven as his hands slid from your hips to your thighs, gripping tightly. “you’re fucking perfect. riding me like that, looking so— fuck.” his words cut off as you sank down on him again, grinding your hips just slightly, and his entire body tensed beneath you.

the sheer size of him, the way he filled you so completely, made your breath hitch, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your lips. “you feel so good,” you murmured, the words spilling out before you could think to stop them. “so fucking good.”

“yeah?” matty growled, his voice low and wrecked. his hands slid back to your hips, his grip firm as he guided your movements, his hips bucking up into you with sharp, deliberate thrusts. “you’re so fucking wet. squeezing me so tight— i’m not gonna—” he stopped himself with a sharp hiss, his jaw clenching as he fought to hold back. “shit, i’m not gonna last if you keep—”

“don’t hold back,” you said, your voice shaky but teasing as you braced your hands against his chest, matching his thrusts with your own. “i want you to lose it.”

“you’re evil,” he muttered, his voice rough and wrecked. his head fell back against the couch as he fought to keep up with your pace, his thighs tensing beneath you as he pushed up into you with every roll of your hips.

the rhythm between you grew frantic, your bodies moving together in a desperate, almost primal rhythm. the sharp snap of his hips, the way his cock dragged against your walls with every thrust, sent sparks of pleasure racing through your body. you were dizzy with it, drunk on the feeling of him inside you, the sound of his broken groans and curses echoing in your ears.

“fuck, you’re gonna ruin me,” matty growled, his hands sliding up your back as he pulled you closer, burying his face in your neck. his lips brushed against your skin, hot and wet, as his thrusts grew sharper, harder, his restraint unraveling with every second. “you’re so fucking perfect. so tight, so wet, so— jesus christ.”

you clung to him, your fingers tangling in his messy curls as you buried your face in his shoulder, muffling the sounds spilling from your lips. the tension between you was unbearable, every thrust and grind building the pressure higher and higher until it felt like you might break under the weight of it.

matty was trembling beneath you, his body taut with tension as he fought to hold himself together. “i’m close,” he muttered, his voice rough and strained. his hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements as his hips snapped upward again, harder this time. “too fucking close. shit, i can’t—”

“hold on,” you whispered, your voice shaky as you leaned back, your hands bracing against his chest to steady yourself. “just hold on a little longer.”

“fuck, i’m fucking trying,” matty growled, his dark eyes locking onto yours as his grip on your hips tightened almost painfully. “but you’re— jesus, you’re fucking perfect. i can’t—”

“matty,” you gasped, your voice breaking as he thrust up into you again, hitting a spot inside you that made your vision blur. “just hold on.”

your body trembled as matty thrust into you, each movement raw and desperate, the slick heat of his cock dragging against your walls in a rhythm that had your head spinning. his hands gripped your hips like a lifeline, his fingertips pressing into your skin as though holding you there was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“fuck, i’m coming,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, strained. his dark eyes were half-lidded, his curls damp with sweat as he stared up at you. the desperation in his expression was palpable, his lips parted as he panted for breath, every muscle in his body taut with tension. “i— fuck, i’m gonna—”

you leaned forward, your hands bracing against his chest as you kissed him deeply, swallowing his broken moan as you slowed your movements. the kiss was messy, hungry, your lips and tongues tangling as you rode him slower, deeper, until you felt him twitch inside you, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding back.

“let me,” you murmured against his lips, your voice soft but commanding. “let me take care of you.”

his groan was raw, guttural, and he dropped his head back against the couch, his eyes fluttering shut as his hands slid from your hips. “fuck,” he muttered, his voice cracking. “do whatever you want. just— just don’t stop.”

you smirked, leaning back slightly as you placed your hands on his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath beneath your palms.

Your eyes drifted downward, and you bit your lip at the sight of his cock, still buried inside you, glistening with your wetness. the tip was flushed an angry red, a bead of precum dripping from the head, and you could feel him throb inside you, his body begging for release.

“look at you,” you murmured, your voice low, almost teasing as you lifted yourself slowly, letting him slip out of you. he groaned at the loss, his hips twitching upward instinctively, but you pressed a hand against his stomach, keeping him still. “so desperate.”

“fuck,” matty muttered, his voice rough, his hands fisting in the couch cushions as you wrapped your fingers around him again, stroking him slowly. “you’re fucking killing me.”

you smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to his jaw as your hand worked him, your grip firm but deliberate. his cock was slick with your arousal, making every stroke smooth and effortless, and the sounds he made - the sharp gasps, the broken curses, the low, desperate groans - sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through you.

“don’t hold back,” you murmured against his ear, your voice soft but insistent. “i want to see you.”

his breath hitched, his hands gripping your thighs as his hips bucked into your hand. “i can’t— fuck, i can’t—”

“you can,” you said, your voice firmer now as you kissed your way down his neck, biting gently at the sensitive skin there. “let go for me.”

that was all it took. matty’s entire body tensed, his hips jerking upward as his cock twitched in your hand. “fuck,” he groaned, his voice breaking as his release spilled over your fingers, painting his abdomen in hot, thick ropes of white. his head fell back against the couch, his mouth falling open in a silent moan, and his entire body trembled with the force of it.

you didn’t stop, your hand working him through the waves of his orgasm, drawing out every last drop until he was panting beneath you, his chest heaving and his thighs trembling. his cock twitched in your grip, still sensitive, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him— utterly wrecked, his hair sticking to his forehead, his body glistening with sweat and the evidence of his release.

“fuck,” he muttered again, his voice barely above a whisper. “you’re— jesus fucking christ.”

you didn’t answer. instead, you leaned back, your eyes drinking in the sight of him. his release coated his stomach, dripping down his skin, and the sight made your mouth water. you licked your lips, your gaze flicking to his as you shifted, sliding down his body.

“what are you—?” matty’s question cut off with a sharp gasp as your tongue darted out, licking a broad stripe up his stomach. his cock twitched against your wrist, still leaking, and the broken sound he made as he watched you clean him with your tongue sent a fresh rush of heat pooling low in your belly.

“fuck, you’re insane,” he muttered, his voice shaky as his hands found your hair, gripping it tightly. “you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

“good,” you murmured, glancing up at him through your lashes as you licked another drop of his release from his skin. his cock twitched again, harder this time, and you smiled against his stomach, your tongue swirling over the sensitive skin just above his navel.

matty groaned, his head falling back against the couch as his fingers tightened in your hair. “you’re fucking evil,” he muttered, but his voice was thick with arousal, his body trembling beneath your touch.

you took your time, your tongue tracing every line of his abdomen, cleaning every drop of his release until his skin was glistening, slick with your saliva. his cock jerked again, leaking another bead of precum, and the sound he made - a low, desperate whimper - sent a shiver racing down your spine.

when you finally finished, your lips trailing up his chest to his neck, matty pulled you close, his hands fisting in your hair as he kissed you deeply. his tongue swept into your mouth, tasting himself on your lips, and the kiss was so raw, so consuming, that you felt your knees go weak.

he groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding down your back as he pulled you closer, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. when he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against yours as he held you tightly.

“jesus,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “you’re fucking unbelievable.”

you smiled, your fingers brushing through his messy curls as you caught your breath. “you’re not so bad yourself.”

he laughed softly, the sound low and warm, and his arms tightened around you, pulling you against his chest in a way that felt almost protective. the silence that settled between you was heavy but comfortable, your bodies pressed together as you let the heat of the moment slowly fade.

“can i see you again?” matty’s voice was soft, tentative, and it caught you off guard. you pulled back slightly, your eyes meeting his, and the vulnerability in his expression made your chest ache.

you smiled, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “i think i’d like that.”

his answering smile was slow, lazy, and it made your stomach flip. “good,” he murmured, his hands sliding up your back as he kissed you again, softer this time but no less consuming. “because i don’t think i’m done with you yet.”

#matty healy #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy imagine #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty the 1975 #the 1975 smut

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didyoulookforme · 2 months ago

Text

the one to wait

your best friend tries to cheer you up after a bad school day. takes place about a year since walkabout.

warning: kissing. making out. cheesy fluff. teenagers being dramatic. grammatical errors, typos.

part of the bf matty au. masterlist here.

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walking into matty’s room feels like stepping straight into his brain. or at least how you imagine it must look in there. books and papers are piled everywhere. perhaps he started a system but gave up halfway through. guitar picks in every color are scattered across the floor like confetti, and there are way too many empty coke cans lying around to not feel a little concerned. the first time he invited you over, you were truly shocked that anyone could survive under these conditions. but now, after a year of knowing him, it just fits. every single thought in his head is clearly taken up by music, and the rest? it’s all background noise. honestly, it’s strangely charming.

of course, he’s sprawled out on his bed at this second, looking ridiculously comfortable while half-heartedly messing with his guitar. it takes him about three notes for you to catch on... yeah, it’s that song. the one from last week’s practice that’s been stuck in your head ever since he asked what you thought of it. as if your zero knowledge about music writing could actually contribute anything meaningful to the track. but it’s one of matty’s sneaky little ways of showing he actually cares about you.

you’re on the floor, cross-legged, back against the bed frame, fidgeting every two seconds because sitting still is impossible during this moment in time. your homework’s out in front of you, basically untouched except for your half-written name scribbled at the top. you can’t focus. your mind’s stuck on the same stupid thing from lunch, and it’s driving you mad. it’s impossible to shake off that you let out a long, heavy sigh before you even realize it’s happening, and immediately the guitar strings stop mid-chord, leaving the room way too quiet.

“alright, what’s going on with you?”

“nothing.” you glance over your shoulder, trying to play it off, but he’s already watching you. his fingers are still wrapped around the neck of the instrument, not moving, eyes squinting enough to make it clear he’s calling your bluff.

“doesn’t seem like nothing.” he tilts his head, hair falling into his face in that pretty way you enjoy so much. “you’ve been off since you got here. you’re not even studying, which is, like, your thing. so just tell me already. what’s going on?”

there’s this tight knot in your gut that won’t give. you glare down at your notebook. maybe if you focus hard enough, it’ll magically sort all this crap out for you. “it’s nothing, matty,” you mumble, trying not to sound as annoyed as you feel. “just... drop it, alright?”

there’s this awkward silence, and then the bed creaks as he scoots closer. you feel his hair brush against your shoulder, and it makes your chest tighten a bit, but you play it cool. he leans in to look at you, his face way too calm for what you’re feeling.

“not happening,” he cuts straight to the point. “spill. what’s up?”

“it’s dumb.”

“don’t care.”

you groan. “fine. it’s… something from lunch, okay?”

his eyebrows lift a little, and his expression goes softer, which only makes it harder to keep your thoughts straight. “what kind of thing?”

a loud exhale leaves your lips once again. “just… some girls were talking about making out. who they’ve kissed. all the stuff they’ve done.” you pause, your throat tight, already regretting saying anything. “then they asked me.” another pause. “and i had nothing to say. because, you know, i haven’t done much. properly.”

your voice gives up at the end. cheeks burning. brain short-circuiting. full-body humiliation mode activated. all you want is for the ground to do you a favour and eat you alive, but nope. you’re still here. still breathing. still sitting in front of your best friend, fully exposed, no take-backs.

matty blinks at you, and for a second, you’re fully convinced he’s about to burst out laughing, so you’re bracing yourself for it. but he doesn’t. he stares, brow creasing a little, as if you’ve dealt him some impossible equation from your old tutoring sessions instead of whatever disaster is currently spilling out of your mouth.

“okay…” he finally says, real slow.

“and then,” you blurt out as there’s no way you can stop now, “they started going on about how everyone’s kissed someone, right? and yeah, obviously i have. but not. not in the way they meant. nothing that made me, i don’t know, lose my mind or whatever. so now i’m overthinking it, because what if i’m just bad at it? what if it’s me?” your face is on fire, and honestly, it feels like the only way out of this is to ascend to another plane of existence.

he keeps looking at you, with his lips doing this twitchy thing, which only makes matters worse here. and after what feels like forever, he only shrugs. “who cares what they’ve done? they’re probably making half that shit up anyway.”

“that’s not the point, matty!” your voice comes out way higher than you meant it to. “it’s not even about them, okay? it’s just... i don’t know. i feel like i’m behind or something. that i missed the memo on how to be a normal teenager.”

“normal’s boring,” he says, completely unfazed. “you’re way better off.”

“oh, sure. easy for you to say.” you jab a finger at him. “you’ve done it. loads. apparently.”

his eyebrows shoot up so fast you can’t tell if he’s confused, offended, or pretending he didn’t hear you. “what are you on about?”

“louise and jessica. they both said you made out with them.” you reveal, “and that you were really into it.”

matty’s mouth opens, shuts, opens again, but no words come out. instead, his face goes bright red—actual, proper scarlett red—as he sits up on the edge of the bed, suddenly finding every other spot in the room way more interesting than you.

“that...” he stammers, raking a hand through his hair, which only makes a bigger mess out of it. “that’s… they said that?”

you nod, biting back a smirk because watching him squirm is pretty much the only highlight of your day. “so?” you tilt your head back against the bed, trying to seem casual even though your heart’s racing to find out more. “what was it like?”

his voice cracks. cracks. “wh—what was what?” and it’s so funny you almost lose it.

“making out with them, matty. c’mon.”

“oh my god.” he groans as if it’s apparently the most painful thing anyone’s ever asked him, dramatically throwing his hands over his face. “you’re not serious right now.”

“i so am.” you nudge his knee, curiosity totally winning out over any shred of shame. “please tell me. was it good? did you love it? what’s it even like?”

he groans louder this time, like you’re torturing him. but when he peeks at you through his fingers, there’s this tiny, almost-smile threatening to break through. “it’s… i don’t know. it’s fine, okay? depends.”

“depends?” your eyebrows raise up, and you’re full-on grinning. this is way too much fun to let up.

he gives you a look that’s so over it, but you can see the laugh he’s barely holding back. “on the person.”

you narrow your eyes at him. “well, that’s vague.”

“oh, my bad,” he shoots back, tone dripping with sarcasm. “didn’t realize i was supposed to be taking notes.”

the way he says it makes you roll your eyes, but you’re not letting this go. “but you’ve done it. many times.” you inch in closer, now watching his fingers drum against his legs, a nervous tick of his.

“yeah, i guess.”

“with who?”

he mutters something under his breath about you being insufferable, but he still answers, rattling off a couple of names.

you nod along, but let’s be real, you’re not even processing a word. your brain’s already gone rogue. it’s running this whole montage in your head. him leaning in, his hand brushing someone’s cheek, the way his mouth moves when he’s kissing them, how close they’d be. it’s stupid. straight-up torture. but it’s all you can see, and now there’s this awful, heavy feeling spreading through your chest.

“did you enjoy it?” your voice drops, barely above a whisper.

he shrugs and keeps his eyes on the guitar next to him. “sometimes.” his answer comes out flat. “but not always.”

“how come?”

he eventually looks over, and there’s something in his face you can’t read. “just… it doesn’t always feel right. sometimes you’re doing it because you think you’re supposed to, not because you actually want to.”

and yeah. that hits. hard. because you get it. exactly. only checking off boxes, doing the thing, waiting to feel something that never comes.

you slump back against the bed, pressing your palms into the carpet to steady yourself. “i don’t know,” you mumble, “it’s just… everyone else has done it. and i’m sitting here,” you cut yourself off as you feel the heat’s crawling up your neck again, making it difficult to even finish the sentence. “it’s sad.” all you can do is stare at the ceiling.

matty doesn’t answer right away, but then you feel him shift even closer, his knee bumping your shoulder. it’s small, barely a thing, but it’s enough for now. “it’s not stupid,” he says. “and it’s not a big deal. you’ll get there when you get there.” he pauses, probably trying to figure out how to not make this weird. “and when it happens, it’ll be amazing. with the right person.”

you glance up at him, your palms and fingers starting to tingle. his face is serious, eyes locked on you, and it’s impossible to look away. he’s sitting there, saying stuff that shouldn’t matter too much but somehow does, and it’s messing with your head.

“what if it never feels right?” the words tumble out before you even realize you’re saying them, so quiet you’re half hoping he didn’t catch it.

but he does. “it will,” he assures as you drop your gaze and notice when he finally stops fidgeting with his fingers.

the room goes dead quiet again, and it’s the worst kind of silence. no guitar, no tapping of his foot, just this heavy nothingness hanging between you. you try to not let it get to you, picking at some random thread on your sleeve, pretending you didn’t make everything awkward between you two. matty shifts on the bed, and you can feel it, that little pause before he speaks. but you don’t dare look. no way. because you’re afraid of only making things worse.

“i could… you know, if you wanted to…”

you blink a couple of times. “what?”

matty immediately looks like he wants to crawl under the bed. “nothing,” he mutters, shaking his head way too fast. "forget it."

“no, seriously, what?” you sit up, narrowing your eyes at him. “say it.”

he hesitates, his face practically glowing crimson now, taking a deep breath before he stutters, “i just meant… if you wanted to practice. or, like, learn. i could… maybe help.”

your lip twitches. did he actually say that? you blink at him once more. “wait. with you?”

“yeah. i mean, only if you want to.” he shrugs one shoulder, trying and failing to look nonchalant.

your stomach flips, your mind racing, but all you can think is: this is matty. your best friend matty. the same boy who can’t match his socks but somehow always knows exactly how to make you laugh when you feel like crying. and now he’s sitting here, offering to make out to make you feel better, because that’s a totally normal thing to do.

the silence drags on, and it takes you a minute to realize he’s holding his breath, waiting for you to say something.

"okay," you whisper, the word feather-light as it escapes your lips.

matty exhales, and for a second, he gazes at you, his eyes dark yet kind, trying to figure out if you really just said that. "now?" he asks, his voice gentle and a little shaky, too. but you agree, even if your heart is beating so rapidly you might pass out.

you intently watch as he pushes himself off the bed. then he’s kneeling right in front of you, close enough that his knees knock into yours, and yeah, okay, what the hell is going on? he drags his hands through his hair once, twice, then lets them fall into his lap, rubbing his palms against his jeans over and over. and for some reason, that makes your pulse race even faster.

“you really sure about this?”

“yeah...”

"alright," he murmurs, closing in just enough that you catch the faintest scent of him, and your whole body is suddenly on high alert as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “gonna start slow, alright?”

you nod, probably too eager, and he inches forward, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek first. barely there. over before you can process it. and you can’t help but giggle nervously as he pulls back, his cheeks still a little pink.

“that doesn’t count,” you tease, trying to mask the way your chest feels like it’s about to explode.

matty grins, then squares his shoulders. “alright. proper one, then.”

before you can overthink it, his hands are cupping your face, warm and still a little unsteady, and then he’s leaning back in. your breath catches as his lips brush against yours, calm, careful, and oh so gentle. it only lasts a fraction of a second but you already know you need more.

“you okay?” his voice is ever so quiet with a hint of nervousness behind it.

you only nod again because your throat won’t cooperate, and if you try to speak, you’re not entirely sure what will happen.

he edges in closer, lips pressing slow against yours, lingering just a little longer this time. warm and firm yet still ridiculously soft. your eyelids flutter shut, everything else fading until the only thing that exists is the way his mouth feels against yours.

when he finally pulls back, you blink to find him watching you intently.

“well?” he asks.

“i liked that.” you admit as you bite your bottom lip, and his gaze flicks down for a second before he snaps it back up.

“wanna keep going, then?” he asks after a beat, his voice careful, quiet.

“please.”

his lips curve into the smallest smile before mindlessly licking them. “alright. close your eyes again.”

you do as he says, and he tilts in closer once more, hands still delicately cradling your jaw. his mouth presses against yours, firmer, warmer, and then—oh. his lips part just enough, and before you can even think about it, his tongue barely skims your lips. your breath stumbles. you freeze for a second, unsure of what to do next. but he doesn’t rush, just pulls back the tiniest bit, his thumbs tracing little circles against your skin. “you’re okay,” he murmurs. “it’s normal to be nervous. let’s just go slow. and tell me if you want to stop, yeah?”

“yes, okay.”

then he kisses you for the fourth time, and when his tongue flicks against your lips, you don’t freak out. you just let it happen, letting him in as your head goes a little fuzzy. his tongue brushes against yours. the sensation is totally new but definitely not bad. the total opposite actually. you melt into it, letting the warmth of his mouth take over, and yeah, alright, now it makes sense why those girls lose their minds over this. maybe even over him.

the kiss deepens and you’re holding your breath like that’ll somehow make it last forever. stopping feels like the worst idea in the world because what if all the butterflies swarming inside you just disappear? it’s more wet and messier than you expected, but it’s still really, really good. maybe even perfect.

at least until your teeth knock together and you freeze, absolutely mortified.

matty pulls back just enough, as the softest laugh slips out, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes shining. “happens all the time,” he whispers, voice sweeter than honey. “you’re fine.”

you barely comprehend the words he’s saying, your ears ringing so loudly that it all feels like a dream.

“let’s try again.”

yeah, no, you’re definitely dreaming. no way this is happening.

and now it’s you who eagerly leans forward, making matty lose his balance before his hands find your waist, steadying himself before crashing back into you. it’s faster this time. it’s also then that you realize how good he tastes. definitely something you could get addicted to. your hands slide up to his neck and you swear you hear the faintest little whimper slip out of him. he probably doesn’t even realize he did it. which just makes it even better, making you grin against his lips.

“what’s that all about?” he mumbles between kisses, but you just keep smiling, shaking your head, not about to waste a single second not kissing him.

you don’t know how long it’s been. definitely not long enough. not even close. and honestly, you’d be happy staying right here forever, but then his hand accidentally drifts under your jumper, fingertips barely grazing the skin there, and you jolt, causing a tiny, embarrassing sound to slip out of you.

both of you go completely still. eyes wide, pulling back, and for one second, there’s a thin string of saliva still connecting you. then it’s gone, and so is whatever perfect little world you’d just slipped out of.

"i thi—we should probably stop.” he’s breathless, voice uneven, and yeah, there’s disappointment in it. barely there, but you catch it.

you let out a long sigh and nod, even though it’s the absolute last thing you want to do. “yeah, probably.”

the silence creeps back in, but it’s the good kind. warm, easy. you’re just sitting there, staring at each other for way too long, his eyes crinkling at the corners, your tight-lipped smile quivering because you’re not exactly sure how to feel.

then his hand suddenly moves, and before you can react, he’s swiping at your chin. “drooled a little,” he teases, already holding back a laugh.

“oh, shut up.”

you slap his hand away so fast he barely dodges it, his mouth dropping open in fake betrayal. “unbelievable and after what i just did for you.” he shakes his head like you’ve just shattered his trust.

you can’t help but roll your eyes, way too dramatic about it, leaning back against the edge of the bed. matty drops down next to you, knees bumping yours as you pull your legs in and hug them. you turn to him, already grinning. “so… how did i do?”

he shakes his head, but that stupid smile is ruining any attempt at pretending he didn’t enjoy it. he tilts his head back against the mattress, pretending to think real hard about it, then finally turns to you, lifting a hand, palm flat, wiggling it in a so-so motion.

your jaw drops, full offense taken, and shove him hard enough that he almost tips over. serves him right. but he just laughs, way too pleased with himself, while you groan and cover your face with both hands. absolutely embarrassing.

but before you can wallow for too long, his arms wrap around you, pulling you close. “stop, i’m just kidding,” and then you feel his chin rest on top of your head. he’s never done that before, causing those thousands of tiny butterflies to come back to life again.

“you were absolutely perfect.”

140 notes · View notes

alovesreading · 5 months ago

Text

Chicken Shop Date | Part 10

By @imagine-that-100 and @alovesreading

Description: Matty Healy x Reader (Female) | You and your best friend Amelia came up with a very simple idea of taking celebrities on awkward chicken shop dates, and somehow, it’s managed to become both of your jobs. In the past, you’ve found sitting across from some of the biggest stars on the planet and eating chicken nuggets easy. But then Amelia manages to score you a date with the man who you’ve been obsessed with since you were nineteen; Matty Healy.

Word Count: 43.3k

A/N: Well hello everyone! We are back... kind of. It's been over a year (a year and eight days to be exact) since the last chapter we posted of this story, but most importantly, today marks exactly two years since we first posted this fic and we wanted to celebrate by posting the very last chapter. This is a bittersweet moment because we did start this one thinking it would be two parts long, at most, yet here we are. We are so baffled by how big this story became, but so incredibly grateful for your support, love, and your endless patience with us. N and I are sending yous all the love. We're gonna let you enjoy every bit of this chapter, and well, I guess we'll see you on the epilogue!

| N’s Masterlist | A’s Masterlist |

~*~*~*~ 25th February 2023 ~*~*~*~

"So sorry we're late. We're finally here." You unlock the door to your Mum and Dad's house with Matty in tow.

The only thing that's gone right on your trip here is that you both made it into the car and you both had the bright idea of getting ready for your family party before you set off. Other than that, it's been a bit of a mess.

First, after 5 minutes of driving away from Matty's house, you both forgot your bags which you packed for the next few days of your stay at your parents so you had to go back to grab them. Then you kept on getting every red light you came across, followed by a standstill on the motorway which was 45 minutes of you and Matty singing 2000s bangers interrupted by each of you occasionally complaining about how long you'd been waiting in traffic.

Needless to say, parking up at your parents house was just that bit of comfort you needed after a shit journey. Though by the slight bit of worry you can detect on Matty's face you feel that he may not be quite as comforted as this is the first time he's meeting your parents.

He's only briefly caught your Mum on FaceTime before now and it was just a quick conversation that you cut short because your Mum was about to embarrass you. But he's yet to meet your dad and you know he's nervous despite him having no reason to be.

"You're fine, it's better if we're fashionably late anyway. Come in, come in." You Mum shouts as she rushes to the door and practically all but shoves you out of the way after giving you possibly the quickest hug and peck to the cheek. Clearly, her eyes are set on a certain someone else.

Your boyfriend manages to get his greeting in there first once you step to the side to watch the encounter. Matty smiles brightly, putting your bags down in the hall as he says, "Hey, so so nice to finally meet you."

"Matty," Your Mum's grin is huge as she welcomes him with open arms, "So lovely to meet you properly."

Being the teddy bear that he is, Matty isn't phased by the hug in the slightest and he happily returns it, giving your Mum a tight squeeze as if relishing in the hug of another mother figure. It seems your Mum's grin is infectious because Matty's is now just as big as he tells her, "So lovely to meet you in person. FaceTime isn't the same. You're even more gorgeous in real life."

Your Mum starts laughing as they release each other from the embrace. "Flattery gets you everywhere in this house, you're going to fit right in." She pulls your boyfriend inside, like he isn't being dragged when she says, "Please come in."

Matty smiles at you on his way in, clearly having calmed down a little after realising you weren't lying when you said that your Mum was lovely. You adore him for being nervous though, God knows if you weren't badly jet lagged and emotional the day you met Denise, you would have been just as, if not more worried than when you met Tim.

Your Mum leads Matty straight into the kitchen leaving you to put both your bags at the bottom of the stairs out of the way, and you head to your lounge to see your Dad with a beer already in hand and he's on his feet offering you a hug immediately. There's a gin on the side so it's great to see that they have had pre-drinks while they've been waiting for you to arrive and not sat hating you for being late.

After pleasantries are exchanged and you've given him a hug, he asks you. "Was the trip over okay?"

"Yeah it was good despite the traffic, thank you Dad." You smile, picking up your Mum's gin and smelling it quickly before you have a sip.

Ooooo Parmaviolet gin. Stunning! Putting the glass back down quickly, you nod towards the door and ask your father, "Come meet Matty?"

Your Dad looks entirely too smug as he asks, "Do I pretend like I haven't seen his face on your bedroom wall since you were a teenager?"

God that's a whole different can of worms you'll have to sort out when you get home later. Take the posters down, number 1 on the priority list. "No, he knows I was a fan. But please don't embarrass me." You all but beg, even showing him some puppy dog eyes as you reiterate, "Please."

"I make no promises." Your Dad smiles teasingly and slight dread seeps into your system.

Even though you're slightly more than half certain he's just trying to wind you up, you say, "Dad." sternly.

Instead of easing your worries, your father just pulls you into another hug, and he kisses the top of your head before saying softly, "Good to have you home."

You're about to tell him you're happy to be back, but before you can your Mum comes into the lounge with your boyfriend in tow. Immediately a smile finds its way to your lips, just because you can see his gorgeous face again but also because he's clearly made friends with your Mum already as he's got one of her precious gin glasses in hand which means he's already won her over. You're lucky if you even get one of those crystal gin glasses.

Your boyfriend's grin only gets bigger when he properly greets your Dad, offering him a handshake. As your father takes his hand, he asks knowingly, "Did she make you drive Matty?"

"No, I offered," Matty chuckles a little before he explains, "And I've not insured her on my car yet... But when I do that, I'll make sure she drives next time."

Matty glances at you all amused because you've told him in the past how you're not too confident about driving around central London which is why you don't have a car at your flat. The little bitch just likes teasing you about it, and from this alone you know him and your Dad will get on just fine because your Dad's made the same joke in the past.

"Good man." Your father chuckles, "Nice to meet you."

After introductions are out of the way and you're all settled with drinks in hand, Matty seems to relax right in and you're really pleased because you knew he was nervous to meet your parents even though you told him there was no need to be. Regardless, you're so happy he fits in seamlessly, and is doing God's work by entertaining all of your Mum's silly questions.

But it's when there's a slight lull in conversation that your father takes the opportunity to ask a question you wish never left his lips. Your Dad looks all proud of himself after he takes a sip of beer and asks, "Has my daughter ever told you about the time that she screamed and started crying when you announced you were releasing your second album?"

"Oh my god, STOP!" You yell before hiding yourself in your hands all the while Matty's giggle fills the room.

"Ha, no she hasn't but I'd love to hear all stories like that." You hear your boyfriend say and you're already shaking your head.

"No, you don't." You say sternly, still hiding your now burning face. Your Dad just laughs and ignores you as he tells Matty, "Oh there's hundreds, I'll tell you when she's not here to tell me off."

The whine of pain that leaves your lips has the room laughing, and Matty rubs your back for a second to silently tell you not to be embarrassed. If anything he's grateful for your obsession with his music because it led to him being here with you right now and he wouldn't change that for the world. No matter how obsessed you may be.

You take a second to compose yourself before you uncover your hot face and look directly at the culprit. "Dad," You shoot him a pointed look that both him and your Mum start chuckling at, "Thought I just said don't embarrass me."

"Sorry sweetheart, but I can't promise anything when you bring the man home who we've been shown pictures of since you were a teenager." Your Dad drops you in it again and all you can do is look to the ground and sigh.

"It's going to be a very long night." You mumble before you take a long sip of your gin. And something tells you that you're not going to be wrong.

~*~*~*~

Matty is stiff in his seat next to you in the taxi as you make your way to the venue where your family gathering is. As nerve wracking as it was to meet your parents, he recognises that it's gone well, but the prospect of now going to a place where he's not only going to meet but interact with your entire family for hours, has him shitting bricks.

His breathing becomes shallow as he bounces his knee and fiddles with his fingers, and he doesn't even notice he's doing all that since he's lost staring space. His thoughts are as all over the place as his fidgeting, trying to remember names you've thrown around or little details about your aunties and uncles that he could use to make a good impression.

You're thankful you don't fail to notice his clear signs of restlessness showing through. You almost coo aloud because you find it so adorable that he's this nervous about meeting your family. Maybe you should mention they already adore him because you have never kept your love for the band from them, so basically everyone already knows who he is.

If anyone should be scared of things potentially going against them, it's you who should be worried. God knows all the shit your family could say to him to embarrass you. Your parents have already tried their hand, but you know there's so much more that everyone else could say.

Before you can even begin to make a list of all the possibilities, your hand rests over his restlessly bouncing knee. You gently rub his thigh as you send a smile his way, quietly telling him, "You're going to be fine."

His leg stops moving and though his hands freeze over his lap, his gaze falls on you and you can just read the worry on his face. Bringing a hand up to cup his face, you rub his cheek softly and assure him, "They'll love you."

Just as much as I do, you want to add but you don't think it's the best time to say it. You just hope he can read it in your eyes, because your chest hurts with the amount of love you have for him and it shines on your face when you look at him.

He nods faintly and leans in to steal a quick kiss. "I trust you," he mumbles against your lips before pressing a kiss to your cheek and finally settling in his seat. His fingers intertwined with yours and he squeezes your hand before resting it over his thigh. Looking down at your joined hands makes you sigh in content, and you end up resting your head on his shoulder with the stupidest smile on his face.

Matty lets your warmth calm him down and soon he forgets where you're going for all he can think of is how nice you smell and how soft your skin feels under his calloused fingers, how cute you look in this dress and how he could go an eternity with you pressed against his side like this.

When the car stops, you pick your head up and, just like your parents, thank the driver before exiting the taxi. You turn to look at Matty and see his nerves washing over him again, but you walk up to him and brush his curls back before kissing him softly and quickly in reassurance.

Though it really doesn't help when your dad says, "Come on, let's throw you into the belly of the beast Matty."

Matty chuckles quietly, and though he puts on a cool, unbothered expression, the way he squeezes your hand gives him away. He clears his throat before saying, "You surely can't be all that bad."

Your dad snorts menacingly, knowing exactly what's to be expected on the other side of the door, "You'll be eating your words soon."

If you were close enough to slap your Dad's arm, you would have done but he's already linked your Mum's arm and heads inside. The venue isn't the biggest, but it's on the nice side of town and it's by no means a shithole, so it's perfect for your Auntie's birthday bash.

It's by pure luck that the second you go inside, the first to greet you and your family is your Uncle Darren. He smiles brightly at you when he sees you and Matty holding hands and waiting for him to finish hugging your mum and dad.

He makes a show of letting his gaze fall to your joint hands and then back up to your face so he can give you a wink. You can feel your cheeks heating up at the lack of subtlety from your uncle, and his smirk is huge when he notices you getting flustered at his silent taunting.

His gaze moves to your boyfriend then. Extending his hand out towards Matty, your uncle introduces himself, "You must be Matty. I'm Darren, nice to meet you."

Matty hears you snort beside him but doesn't question it for he shakes your uncle's hand and offers him a sweet smile, "Lovely to meet you. You're Y/N's uncle right?"

"Yes, I'm her favourite," your uncle replies smugly. He looks at you and sees the way you roll your eyes, it has him snorting out a laugh before asking you this time, "How was the drive?"

You give your uncle a little smile seeing the actual care laced around his words, "Yeah it was good, thank you. After the traffic it was good to see home again."

"Ah yes, you went home first..." your uncle says and lets his words drift away into the air, and you can almost see how a lightbulb goes off in his head when he smirks again and looks at Matty to point out, "You got the meeting the parents out of the way first. Good idea. But it's me you have to impress."

You almost laugh when you think you see Matty visibly gulp. But you take pity on him, like he's done with you when meeting his family. Plus, you know your uncle is playing with him. He has known who Matty is for far too long thanks to you being an avid fan of the band, and he's actually hiding how much he enjoys their tunes.

"He's already impressed you with his music, don't act all tough now." You turn to a still nervous Matty and try to ease his worries by saying, "He's a big fan."

That's when it clicks for Matty and he turns back to look at your uncle with a knowing smile growing on his face, "Aren't you uncle Dazza?"

Your uncle gives up his attempts to tease you any further and to act too cool then, he just nods and says, "I quite like Tonight I Wish I Was Your Boy. I love the sample from The Temptations."

You swear you can feel the way Matty relaxes when sensing a bit of familiarity now, and you smile so big when he says, "Thank you. They were twats about that one though. They wanted like ninety seven percent from us to use that."

Your uncle Dazza's eyes widen at the quick fact and you almost laugh at the same time as he says, "Really?"

Matty nods and sighs as if the memory alone gets him annoyed, but then shrugs as he tells, "Yeah we just said fuck it though because it was too good to not to make."

"Well I'm glad you did. Great song," your uncle concludes and it's your loud cackle that makes a bright smile break on his face before he shoves you slightly and tells you to, "Shush." Before you can even start gloating about how you've managed to turn everyone into at least a casual fan of the band, your uncle Dazza sends you over to where your auntie is.

Your mum and dad have gone ahead and are already talking to her when you get pushed away by your uncle, so you sneak behind her taking Matty right with you and yell, "Happy birthday!" over her shoulder. She lets out a loud gasp when hearing your voice, but a little squeak follows when she sees who's right beside you and holding your hand.

"Oh my god! Is he here to serenade me?" Your Auntie says with so much excitement you think your heart might explode. Matty blushes next to you when you chuckle lightly and your Auntie fans herself as she makes a show of her assumption. "On my birthday, Y/N you shouldn't have."

What you don't expect her to do though, is turn to Matty and rest her hand on his forearm as she says, "My favourite is Antichrist, just so you know."

You have to swallow the urge to cackle when Matty just frowns deeply at the suggestion. But your auntie still winks at you, knowingly. You can only smile at her, so damn proud that she's done this the second she's met your boyfriend. You have certainly taught her well.

"How'd you..." Matty looks confused for a second before he shakes his head slightly, a smile slowly forming on his lips before he asks, "Surely that's a bit too depressing for a big day like today?"

The silence that follows is loud for a second or two, until your Auntie pouts and looks at you to say, "I tried for you babe."

You halfheartedly sigh in response, "Thanks for trying Auntie Shazza. Stubborn man he is."

Matty can't fight the smile that spreads on his face, and he asks your Auntie in disbelief, "Did she tell you to ask for that?"

Bless your Auntie though, she shrugs and puts on a proud face as she says, "No, I just know things."

Before Matty can say anything else, someone calls out for her and she excuses herself. She gives your boyfriend a smile and you a wink before leaving. You just know that he's about to say something by the way he smirks at you, with that glint in his eye that makes your head run wild but before he can open his mouth, someone interrupts.

"Y/N!" You hear being shouted from across the room and when both you and Matty turn to follow the voice, you all but run at your favourite cousin.

Matty can't help but like your cousin already, just from the smile he simply brought to your face. Matty knows by your reaction alone that it must be Olly, your 'absolute legend of a cousin'. You've been telling Matty about him since you asked if he was free to join you at this party and your boyfriend has been keen to meet him.

"Thank fuck you're finally here." Olly says as he gives you a tight hug which you return. But when he releases you, he pulls back and looks at you accusingly, "You've left me for over an hour being exposed to Satan incarnate."

Matty's confused by this as he watches on expectantly, but by the way the joy of seeing your favourite cousin falls from your face, he knows that whoever you're talking about is not someone you're a fan of. And that's made extremely clear with your reaction that has Matty holding in a laugh.

"She's here?" Your scoff, and when Olly nods entirely unimpressed by the truth, you say with complete conviction, "Great... Was hoping she'd have rode off on her broomstick by now."

Matty thought that his eyes couldn't get any wider hearing that, but then he's sure his eyes budge from his head when Olly tilts his head to the side and so casually says, "Hit by a bus would be better." You snort in laughter at that, and when you turn to Matty so you can introduce him to your favourite cousin you notice just how confused he is. But before you can begin to explain, your boyfriend gets there first.

"Is she Regina George or something?" Matty questions as he looks between the two of you, he has to know, "Why do yous hate her?"

"Oh, you'll find out." You cousin half laughs before stepping towards your boyfriend and introducing himself, "'M Olly, it's nice to meet you mate."

"Matty, nice to meet you," He smiles and shakes your cousin's outstretched hand, "I've heard lots about you."

"Ditto," Olly smirks, "Although, it's usually more about your music than yourself."

The look of utter betrayal on your face is priceless and Matty can't help but laugh. He gives you an amused look but asks with raised eyebrows, "Do you ever stop talking about me?"

You do well holding in your scoff, but it's so worth it when you twist your cousin's words to tease your boyfriend. You give him a knowing look when you say, "Usually to talk about more important matters like Ross or George."

"Nice to know Hann didn't make the cut." Your boyfriend folds his arms almost proudly, taking the small victory where he can. But of course, you're there to shoot him down again.

You narrow your eyes as you backchat, "Only because he's married with a child." Matty gives you a look then that screams carry on and you'll regret it and because you know his punishments will be oh so sweet, all you can do is give him bring it on eyes.

"Careful," Olly brings the both of you out of your little staring match, reminding you of all the other eyes that could be on you, "Lovers quarrel at a family party and you will be the talk of the town for very different reasons than you already are in the family WhatsApp."

You hum, "There's a reason I don't check that chat."

"Well, you'd be pleased to know that Mother Gothel isn't here," Your cousin smiles, but the character name has Matty feeling thankful for whoever hasn't shown up. However, Olly goes on to say, "But Paige only decided to come once she heard that you were coming and bringing Matty."

"Of course." You let out a berated sigh, and Matty finally gets the picture when you say, "But at least her Mum's not here."

Whilst your boyfriend's keen to get the gossip, he can't help but tease you a little, "Wow, I never knew you could be so nasty." The look that you send him is entirely one of amusement but clearly you and your cousin feel very passionately about these two people, because your cousin backs you up completely.

"Believe me, she deserves it." Olly begins to explain everything to your boyfriend. "She thinks she's the big 'I am' because she went to fashion school, but since Chicken Shop Date blew up for Y/N, Paige has been bitter about her getting to go on red carpets and meeting celebs and stuff."

Matty's eyes go wide and when he looks at you for confirmation, you nod a little and then tell him most of the details. You explain how Paige is your Mum's eldest sister's daughter, and Olly is your Mum's little sister's son, and the three of you cousins were all born one year after the other (Paige being the oldest and you the youngest) and how at family get togethers it was always the three of you forced to interact as you grew up.

For as long as you can remember Paige has always been a cow and a snake, and she always picked on you as a kid just because she could and she got away with it most of the time because she was older. Her Mum is just a pretentious cow who in her eyes can see Paige do no wrong and thankfully your awful auntie's sisters dislike her, not just you and Olly. You'll forever be grateful that your Mum and Auntie Sharon had a massive row with their sister one year which meant you saw less and less of that small evil side of your family. But that didn't stop their poisonous comments from getting to you over the last few years.

As you're about to explain all the shit she initially said about Chicken Shop Date and the things you've heard her say about you and Amelia, it seems the bitch has a second sense for her name being uttered. Because speak of the devil and he shall appear, this time in a mini skirt and stilettos.

"Y/N." Paige makes her debut, stalking over to the three of you in her heels which still leaves her shorter than you in your combat boots. "You finally made the effort to show up, how gracious of you."

Taking a second not to immediately bite back at her attempts to rile you, your reply is short and sweet, "Fashionably late, what can we say?"

Olly holds in the chuckle he wants to let out hearing that, and at the way the three of you clock Paige's eyes looking you up and down as if to check for herself. And you can't hold your smirk seeing the light die in her eyes as she realises you're dressed in a Miu Miu forest green knitted dress. And it costs a fuck ton of money, which she's well aware of and can't say shit about.

When her eyes meet yours again, just to subtly fuck with her that bit more, you correct yourself, "You could also call it saving the best till last."

Olly snorts seeing your smirk and immediately throws his hand up to cover his mouth. It takes Matty a lot to not just laugh straight away, but he can't help the smile that's on his face. But seeing Matty's amusement immediately attracts your devil cousin's attention, and she grins then looking directly at your boyfriend. As she does, she also answers your statement nodding to herself, "Oh yes, you really have."

And of course she doesn't mean you. Not with the way she's looking like she wants to eat your boyfriend alive. Looking at Matty up and down in a more suggestive way than you've ever even seen fans do at his gigs, your bitch of a cousin hums to herself, but purposefully loud enough for you to hear over the venue's music, "Oooo, even better in real life."

It takes everything in you not to react. Instead you just smile like you agree, and you take every pleasure in seeing that she's annoyed by not upsetting you. Truly, it baffles you how she's 30 years old and still acts like she's a teenager with a petty feud.

She stretches out her hand as if she wants him to kiss the back of it, "Hi, I'm Paige"

Matty, entirely unimpressed with her behaviour, puts on a smile just to be polite. But he's also mighty confused why she's offered her hand like that but shakes her hand instead, "Hey, y'alright?" And he's never let go of someone's hand faster.

Paige keeps eye fucking your boyfriend and smirks as she glances at you, "I remember what you used to say about him..." immediately Matty turns to look at you with a smirk already lighting up his face, and he thinks she's about to spill some gossip on you, but she just attempts to flirt again, "I can say I agree now, especially about these curls."

Your boyfriend frowns a little at that but he doesn't take his eyes from you, meaning he sees the way your jaw falls slightly at the mere audacity of your family member. He catches the way your jaw clenches ever so slightly before you casually bite back, "Well I don't have to say them anymore, I can just do them."

Paige just chuckles in response and Matty can feel her gaze linger on him as she says, "Good for you." and only because he thinks she's about to catch onto the fact she's not wanted in this conversation anymore, he looks back at her for a second.

But that leads Satan incarnate to tell Matty, "You know it's lucky she got 'famous' too because I fear you would still be her entire personality still now if not."

"Then it's lucky she's entirely my personality now so we balance each other out, don't we baby?" Matty smirks at you, wrapping a possessive arm around your waist and pulling you into him. His eyes barely even leave yours, as if he's totally besotted with you and there's not a party going on around you. And god, you feel the exact same. You could get lost just looking at him again right now, counting all of his cute little freckles, picking out which of his curls is your favourite one today, loving how it's falling.

There's endless things that have you never wanting your eyes to stray from the man you love, but seeing how he's looking at you and feeling how he's holding you like he never wants to take moments together for granted and holding you tightly is something you'll forever cherish. You're itching to tell him you love him, and seeing just how big your smile is, the words almost fall from Mattys lips.

But your cousin ruins the moment. "Oh, you two are already vile." Olly fakes a gag before he moves behind the both of you and forces you apart by hanging an arm over each of your shoulders and pushes you both away from Paige. "Let's do some shots and start the night off with a bang."

"I like your thinking." Matty chuckles and happily lets him be led the way to the bar.

Thankfully Paige doesn't follow you and the three of you manage two shots of tequila each at the bar before you get your drinks. Unsurprisingly, Olly gets whisked away by your Auntie Sharon, wanting to show her son off to her friends and your other family members so you and Matty are left to your own devices for a few minutes.

Or that is until the both of you sit down at an empty table and settle with your drinks. You both let your surroundings sink in, although loud music and a lot of people in a room isn't anything new to either of you now.

Despite you thinking the DJ has opted to play Pitbull a bit earlier in the night than needed considering no one is up dancing yet, the party is in full swing. A lot of your family is here and people you recognise from your Uncle's family who you've met at these parties previously, and you're really happy for your Auntie Sharon's sake that she's had a good turn out and everyone looks like they're enjoying themselves.

A few of your Auntie's friends spot you and they come over for you to introduce them to Matty. You love them nearly but they are a rather nosy bunch - wanting every detail of how you two got together which you give them the PG version of events. Matty came on Chicken Shop Date, there was a spark there despite the filming so another date was arranged, and after your date on New Years you've been together ever since. Absolutely no need for them to know he stayed at your flat twice before your second date and he fucked you dumb after it.

Despite the amount of familiar faces coming up to you and asking about the new man in your life, you can't bring yourself to hate it even if some of them were a bit too invasive. And that's because you catch that glint lighting up Matty's eyes each and every time you call him your boyfriend. It has you wanting everyone to come over so you can show him off to everyone.

Not to mention the way seeing that look in his eyes makes your heart skip a beat. It's getting difficult to keep your mouth shut about how much he means to you now. But you're certainly not going to tell him you love him for the first time at your family party.

You're thinking about just how much you love the man beside you talking to your Aunt's friend when you hear a thunder of little feet coming your way and just as you're about to turn around in your seat, you hear a sweet little voice that you've been missing.

"Auntie Y/N!"

You all but jump from your seat when seeing your favourite little cousin running towards you, "Sammy!" Your arms extend to have him run into them, and when he crashes into you, you let out a groan as you try to pick him off the ground like you always have, "Oh I've missed you cutie!"

You rest the little one on your hip and notice just how much he's grown because you can place a dozen kisses on the 6 year olds head with complete ease now. And once you get your giggle after you pepper him with kisses, you give him a tight squeeze as you say, "But you've grown so much, I can barely pick you up now!"

"I've missed you too!" Little Sam says in your ear, and your heart melts because that's just what you wanted to hear. You give him another big squeeze that he pretends he can't breathe from which makes you laugh as you put him back on the ground.

There's a proud smile on Sam's face and puffs his chest out to say, "I'm quite big now, right?" Your grin gets impossibly big and you nod before accentuating, "Huge!"

It's Matty's little enamoured giggle behind you that catches little Sam's attention, and when he realises where he has seen that face before, the kid is pointing at your boyfriend and outing you in the worst possible way.

Little Sam gasps, entirely jaw dropped, looking from you to Matty when he all but shouts, "You have pictures of him in your bedroom!" Your jaw falls automatically and Matty's cackle is loud in response. Your mouth moves as you try to say anything back to that but you can't gather any words in your mind in the time it takes Matty to get up and crouch in front of Sam and ask, "Oh does she?"

The little traitor nods enthusiastically, now grinning and continues to expose you, "Yeah and she also has a really big picture of y–" Quickly, you're behind your little cousin covering his mouth with your hand, you manage to interrupt his attempt at ruining your reputation. You crouch down a little to tell Sam, "You've said enough. Where's you Mum and Dad?"

"No, no," Matty now standing just in front of the both of you with a grin on his lips, "Let the kid speak."

You say, your cheeks feeling very hot, "Nope." and you quickly wrap your arms around little Sam and heave him into the air. Secured against you, you turn around and carry him back over to his Mum and Dad leaving Matty cackling behind you.

Unfortunately, the end of your embarrassment never comes because once you've made it back to Matty after handing Sam over to his parents who quickly distracted him, more of your cousins come over to see you. Only after you explain to Matty how the kids are your second cousins do the rest of the little monsters descend.

After exchanging pleasantries with their parents (your Mum and Aunt's' cousins), their little boy Zack - who Matty would guess is about 12 - is left with you for a few minutes, and after you introduce him to Matty, explaining how he's your new boyfriend, Zack looks at you quizzically. The little dirty blond asks you, as he stands between yours and Matty's chair, "Isn't he-" nodding at Matty, "The one in the videos you used to play when you would babysit me?"

You don't think you've ever disliked your cousins until these embarrassing moments. Being entirely stuck for words as Matty laughs at the information your cousin just divulged, it's your boyfriend who raises his eyebrows and says, "Wow, all these rumours are really not helping the cause of you not being obsessed with me."

Immediately you sink back into your seat and huff, "Don't flatter yourself."

"Oh," Matty giggles, "But it's the talk of the town, baby." You're about to lean across and punch his arm, but the child beside you pipes back up, confirming his own suspicions when he asks you, "Is it him?" But when you hesitate in answering, he just turns to your boyfriend, "You sing Chocolate, right?"

"That's me." Matty's grin has turned into a shit eating one, and he only glances at you before giving Zack all his attention and offers him a high five and a, "Nice to meet you, bud."

Immediately, like any child before their teens, he returns your boyfriends high five excitedly and it seems that he loves Matty from that gesture alone. Probably even more so after Zack outs you again. "By the way," Your little cousin continues telling Matty, "She told me she'd take me to one of your concerts when I'd be old enough and it still hasn't happened."

Noting Zack's dramatic emphasis on the word 'still', Matty is just as dramatic when he looks at you, shaking his head like he's wildly disappointed in you, "Now that's just rude, Y/N."

"Okay, listen," You hold your hand up and gesture to your little cousin, "You're barely even ten."

Zack looks hurt when he half shouts, "I'm eleven!" And your little bitch of a boyfriend nods at Zack saying, "That sounds old enough to me."

"See!" The little dirty blond smiles like your boyfriend just gave him a piece of cake, "I am old enough."

"Don't worry, you'll be going to the next one mate. I'll put you on the guestlist." Matty promises him, with the condition of, "Just don't start swearing when you hear me swear, okay? And then you can come to more than just one show, okay?" Zack says a big thank you and quickly hugs your boyfriend before sticking his tongue out at you playfully, making you laugh, and he runs back to his parents to tell them the good news.

You shake your head but can't take the smile off your face when you sigh, "You're just spoiling them now."

"It's only a concert." Matty shrugs like it's no big deal. "Can't believe you didn't treat them." You scoff, "Where you pretend to fucking toss yourself off, excuse me for not taking them to this tour when I knew what it'd be like."

"I'll change it up for them next time, for Still At Their Very Best." Matty promises with a smile, "I've got ideas already."

"God, I absolutely dread to think." You mumble, wondering what in the hell you're eventually going to have to subject your family too.

Matty smirks at your fake distaste, but he can't fight the need to kiss that pout off your face. He reaches down to the metal of your seat and pulls your chair right beside his, and as soon as you're close enough he cups your cheek and gives you a gentle kiss. You all but melt at his touch, and Matty is so in awe at the way you react to him, loving how it's like fate brought you together as you so seamlessly fit. But he can't help but tease his beautiful girlfriend, "You act like you won't come to every show with me."

You hum in amusement as he taps the tip of your nose, but you play right back. He needs a taste of his own medicine with how big his head is right now. "Not if Arctic Monkeys are touring," You can't take the smile from your lips as you peck his pillowy lips once more, "I'm going round with Flo. We've already arranged it."

Matty sighs, closing his eyes for a second as he nods, "Of course you have."

You find yourself unable to stop yourself from giggling at his reaction because bringing the Monkeys up was always a fun way to step on his ego. Despite the bruise you've just left, your boyfriend starts chuckling too as the party sweeps you back up.

The DJ announces that the buffet is served and you patiently watch the hungry wolves descend before you get up yourselves. As you're both eyeing up what food you fancy, another of your little cousins come over. Matty notices straight away that the little girl, maybe about 9 years old, recognises him. The shock on the little blonde's face makes it evident, but more so that when she stands right beside the both of you, she's jaw dropped as she looks at him and says, "Oh my god! You're the guy who says 'One, Two, fucking jump'!"

The gasp that leaves your lips is instant and loud, and Matty has to hold in his laugh as you lean down and tell her, "I've told you that you're not allowed to say that unless the song is on."

Immediately the little girl, who Matty thinks from the resemblance alone must be Zack's little sister, runs off giggling and you stand back up properly taking a deep breath. It takes everything in your boyfriend not to laugh at you again being outed by your family, but he doesn't let you get away with it. When you look back at him, he asks curiously, "Why have you been teaching kids that?"

"I was babysitting and they were asking what concerts I'd been to so we put on live at the O2 and of course they picked up on that bit." You sigh, shaking your head, but then you poke your boyfriend in the chest a few times as you say, "So if we think about it, it's your fault really."

It was Matty's turn to gasp and shake his head then, and after debating it for a few minutes the both of you ended up agreeing to disagree. The food was glorious and Olly came over to eat with you both taking a respite from being his Mums show pony for a bit, and being unable to hold back all of you went back up to get second helpings of the buffet because it was too good to go to waste.

Just after Olly left you, again being dragged away into a conversation with his Mum and another of her friends, you saw your little cousin Sam heading towards you again. This time a plate full of crisps and brownies in his hands and after plopping them on the table, the little 7 year old comes around so he can sit with you.

As you lift him up and place him on your knee so he's facing Matty, you kiss the top of his head and smile as you ask, with a hint of warning, "You gonna try again?"

"Erm, yeah." The little man giggles a little shyly before he looks at your boyfriend and smiles, "Hi, I'm Sam."

"Hiya Sam," Matty grins, and offers him a high five, "Nice to meet you. I'm Matty."

"Yeah, I know." Sam nods and proudly tells your boyfriend with a big smile, "Auntie Y/N taught me."

"Oh yeah? I bet she has." Matty grins, his eyes flicking from Sam to you and you glare back at him. Even more so when he asks him, "What did she teach you?"

"Your names, your bands name," Your little cousin starts holding up his fingers as he counts, "And the lyrics to your songs."

"Really?" Matty raises his eyebrows entirely amused and not at all surprised anymore. Your boyfriend pries further, "Does Auntie Y/N/N go on about me all the time?"

"No." Leaves your lips immediately but simultaneously little Sam nods, "Yes she does."

And Matty snorts, inclined to believe your cousin over you after all he's heard tonight so he grins at the little boy and half whispers, "I knew it."

Sam starts laughing at that, noting your distaste when you whisper, "You traitor." In his ear which makes him laugh even louder. You can't even pretend you're upset with him because he's just too god damn cute.

But he becomes even cuter when he leans closer to Matty and asks, "Is George actually your best friend?"

Your boyfriend's face lights up at the mention of his friend, and Matty nods in confirmation, "Yeah he is."

"He's so tall!" Sam yells as he raises his arms above his head as high as they will go to try and emphasise just how tall George is, and you think that he would be just as enamoured meeting George as he is with Matty.

Matty chuckles, "I know." Not being able to help but slowly fall in love with the child who's snuggled into your lap.

Each time you kiss his short dark hair, Matty finds his heart skipping a beat. Seeing you with the kid is making him think about the possibilities of your future together and he loves the way he can see it so clearly, he quickly realises just how desperately he wants that for the both of you.

Although, Matty might reconsider when little Sam tells him, "Auntie Y/N/N laughed once and called you the short one."

"Of course she did." Matty shakes his head, looking up at you disapprovingly before he points between the two of us and declares, "Divorced."

Your jaw falls at that which makes little Sam laugh loudly. Matty offers Sam a fist bump as they both start laughing and you let Sam slip from your lap so he can close the distance to Matty on his own two feet.

After the very excitable fist bump Matty ruffles the little man's hair before he wanders off and goes back to playing with your other little cousins. You look back at your gorgeous curly haired brunette and ask, "Divorced then?"

"Oh absolutely not," Matty smirks, shuffling his seat right beside yours so he can wrap his arm around the back of you and he pulls you against him as he whispers in your ear, "Wouldn't know how to live without you now baby, you're mine. Always."

Feeling him plant a quick kiss just under your ear has you needing to take another few seconds to steady your thundering heart after hearing those words. God you love him so so much, and it means more to you that he's still saying all these things after you've been outed all evening by various members of your family.

Just after your little moment, Olly comes back over with more drinks for the two of you, courtesy of your Uncle who just bought a round. And after that people start getting up to dance, so it is hard to stay sitting down when the dance floor gets crowded and you have an excuse to enjoy the music with your boyfriend.

Your cheeks hurt from grinning so hard by the time you get thirsty enough to leave your boyfriend's side and go to the bar. You don't think you'll ever forget the way Matty sang Crazy in Love by Beyonce to you with his arm clutching you tightly against him. Those three words hung on the tip of your tongue and were so close to slipping out during the entirety of that song.

You didn't even have it in you to be embarrassed of the heated kiss you gave Matty when the song came to an end, hoping that the perfect fit of your lips and the rush of emotions that exuded from your pores was felt and understood by him.

When you get to the bar, you look over your shoulder to see your boyfriend taking a seat by your table again. It was pathetic how the bartender catches you staring at the man of your dreams and has to call for you twice before you come out of your trance to give him your order.

The heat in your cheeks doesn't leave, not even when the bartender hands you the drinks and you thank him. But the blush of your cheeks only becomes more noticeable when you turn around to make way back to Matty and you see him with your precious little Sam sitting on his knee, chatting his ear off.

When getting closer to your two favourite boys, your heart flips seeing both of their big grins. You commit the moment to memory as best you can because you don't think you've ever seen anything cuter. However, your doting turns to shock when you get closer and you hear Sam ask your boyfriend a rather shocking question.

"Right, so did you actually get shot and how much money did you steal from that shop?"

"Erm," You stop dead in your tracks as you put your drinks down, and you look between them as you ask, "What's going on?"

Both of them seem to be too involved in their conversation because they ignore you and Matty explains, "Well you see, that wasn't real so I didn't actually get shot but I reckon I took a lot of money."

At that point you understand that they are talking about the Robbers music video that you've put on the clean version of in the past for him. The kid was so smart though that despite not seeing a gun he spotted the blood on Matty so you had to gently explain that he got shot, but that he was okay and fine now.

Little Sam smiles and hugs your boyfriend, "Good. Proud of you, Uncle Matty."

That right there, that Uncle Matty melted both Matty's heart and your own. You don't think you've heard anything cuter and it means the world to the both of you in different ways. You can see it in Matty's eyes, which instantly fall on you at the sound of those words coming from little Sam.

Both of you feel like something locks into place as if that alone is the confirmation of it all. He's yours entirely, and you're his, and neither of you plan on changing that at all. You're sure that an I love you passes between you in that moment. Maybe it's not verbalised, but the way you both look at each screams it, but unfortunately it's not the time or the place to tell each other right now.

"So, Sam," Matty clears his throat a little after giving your little cousin another tight squeeze, "What's your favourite song?"

"Ermmm," Sam thinks for a few seconds before looking at you as he inquires, "The one with all the colours and the numbers." And you can't help but smile at the memories of you having a dance around your Mum and Dads lounge with Sam in your arms as you taught him the fun song.

"TooTime?" Matty starts singing the chorus of it to him then, holding his fingers up for each of the numbers and Sam happily sings along knowing every word.

Both of them succeed in melting your heart even more and love Matty's giggle once he's finished when he asks your little cousin, "Ah yes that's a good one, innit?"

"I love it!" Sam shouts, trying to show just how much he loves it. Matty chuckles at him then, and he happily asks, "Do you want to sing it with me on Karaoke later?"

"Yes!" Little Sam cheers, throwing his arms up in excitement, "I know all of it!"

"Oh wow," Matty gasps and grins showing just how impressed he is with the little guy, "Your Auntie Y/N has taught you very well." Sam nods then looking at you brightly, and you can't help but grin back. He's the most adorable little 6 year old in the world with his ebony hair and green eyes.

"She's my favourite." Sam tells Matty but it's loud enough for you to hear and you can't help the smile that comes to your face. But your joy slowly slips to curiosity when Matty covers his mouth as he whispers into your little cousin's ear, and slowly you watch as Sam's face lights up. You try but you can't hear what he tells your little cousin over the music that the DJ is playing for the now drunk women on the dancefloor.

So you lean forward and tap Sam's knee, asking, "What's he saying?"

Little Sam looks up at Matty, smiles, and then looks back to you and smirks, "Can't tell you."

You exaggerate your gasp before you say, "You can't have secrets from your favourite."

Sam's very smug when he declares, "Uncle Matty's also my favourite so I can." You playfully narrow your eyes at the child in your boyfriend's lap, but you can't help but adore the way Matty's face lights up at what he said. Whether it was just in jest or not, he loves that he's already being welcomed into the family with open arms.

"When did you get so sassy?" You ask Sam, and when he only offers you a small shrug in answer, you start standing up when you say, "And I'm telling Uncle Olly he's not your favourite Uncle anymore."

Hearing that makes Sam's eyes go wide, "No!"

"I'm telling him right now." You say as you start walking away from the table with a grin on your face.

"Auntie Y/N!" Your little cousin shouts as he scrambles from Matty's lap and chases after you.

Your boyfriend can't help but laugh at the cute scene playing out. He watches as you walk over to Olly who's at the bar with more of his family and Sam is yelling no at you, pleading with you not to spill his secret.

As he watches Olly's jaw dramatically fall though, Matty knows the classified information is out and it's funny watching little Sam be picked up by Olly who he gives a big hug too, and afterwards he's passed to you where you also receive a hug and a big kiss to your cheek.

Matty watches on with adoration in his eyes, loving seeing you so happy. All Matty hopes now is that Sam doesn't reveal their own little secret of what he whispered into his ear.

"Keep it a secret for me, but she's my favourite too. I love her lots."

~*~*~*~

With the kids up on the dancefloor, finally entertaining each other instead of embarrassing you, Matty and you get a moment to breathe. Something which leads to your Mum and Auntie waving the both of you over to them and after sitting down at the circular table, you and Matty fall into easy conversation with them.

You're sitting beside Matty and your Auntie, and your Mum's on your boyfriend's other side, and you and your boyfriend love being filled in on your family gossip that your Auntie has managed to acquire all evening. And you can't help but laugh at how eager Matty looks to be soaking in all of the rumours and theories the sisters have to offer considering he doesn't know half the people that they're talking about.

"So Matty," Your Mum asks, moving the conversation on and gaining his full attention, "When do you go back on tour?"

"Oh well, we have SNL on the eleventh of March and then we pretty much go straight on to doing festivals." Your boyfriend explains.

Your Mum tilts her head a little when she asks, "SNL?" Looking to you for an explanation which you don't hesitate to give her.

"It's that American sketch show that's on at midnight with all of the 'comedians' but they have musical guests on too." You tell them, you're Auntie nodding along in recognition.

"Oh," Your Mum's eyes flick straight back to Matty, her smile is bright as she says, "That sounds fun."

"I think it is to some people. It's entirely too American for me." Matty tells her and your Auntie honestly with a waft of his hand, "But they have us there practising for a full week before even when we've done months of practising the songs on tour."

Needless to say when the announcement went out that they were on SNL you were a little gutted to find that the band weren't going to be involved in any of the sketches themselves. But you guess the average American audience isn't going to want 4 men from Wilmslow when they could have Jenna Ortega instead.

There are mumbles from the sisters about how annoying the rehearsing must be for your boyfriend and the band, but then your Mum turns towards you and asks, "Are you joining him, Y/N/N?"

"Unfortunately, I'll be on the other side of the country," You pout, hating the fact that their SNL date is the night before the Oscars. You smile, "But I'll certainly be watching on TV."

Matty shuffles his chair a bit closer to yours as he proposes over the music, resting his hand on your thigh as he does, "You could join me earlier in the week if you fancy it?"

"I'll have a look what the plan is for rehearsals and meetings beforehand but everything's so busy." You sigh really wishing you could because you'd love to explore New York as you've yet to go. Matty nods understandingly as you lace your fingers with his on your thigh and give him a squeeze. But before he can respond, your auntie chips in, putting her hand on the table in front of you and taps.

"Speaking of," She starts, and gives you her raised eyebrow look that screams you're about to be told off, "You've been so busy you've not done any more book videos recently!"

"I know, I'm sorry," You sigh and pout a bit, half feeling like you've let both her and yourself down since you haven't read and reacted to her or your Mum's recommendations. "I'll jump back in soon. I swear."

You continue to explain yourself, "I've got Amelia's cooking show to edit this week and the Oscar's to prepare for so no updates yet unfortunately."

"Terrible." Your Auntie shakes her head in fake disapproval which makes you laugh so you blow her a kiss to appease her.

As she catches it and pretends to pocket it for later, you catch Matty looking at you curiously, and after raising an eyebrow at him, he asks you, "Book videos?"

"You know how Amelia's got her cooking show as a side gig from Chicken Shop Date?" You ask and Matty nods, having seen that on her instagram in the past, so you continue to explain, "Yeah, well I do like book reviews and stuff on TikTok and Instagram."

"Wait, what?" Matty blinks a couple of times, entirely confused because he's never come across this before. "Why haven't I seen this? I've not even seen you reading."

Yes, he'd seen a bookshelf that was filled back at your flat and books above your desk but nothing that screamed you were a massive reader. A book hoarder maybe, but you'd never even mentioned it to him. Nevermind having not seen anything on your social media about you reading, or being big into giving reviews on them.

"It's on a side account, I keep it separate. Don't post about it on my main account all that often." You explain, before you give him an accusing look, "And I think your tour kept me a bit preoccupied, didn't it? Definitely didn't have time to read then."

Matty almost starts laughing, "It's been a while since tour, baby."

"Okay," You sigh in defeat, but you try and evade the blame regardless by passing it on to him, "You've kept me preoccupied then. No time for reading at the moment."

Your boyfriend hums, accepting his fate for now and not bringing up the fact that you've been deep in your Oscars research for the last few weeks and stressing yourself out over that. His distractions he thinks were the best stress relievers for you, but little did he know you had a different hobby that could have been just as effective. Maybe he'll take you out book shopping in the next few days to treat you to whatever you fancy as a good luck present before he flies to America.

"And I think you forget you only started following me personally in October, life's been pretty hectic for us both since then." You raise your eyebrows at him, but your boyfriend just rolls his eyes playfully knowing you'd pin the blame on him even more somehow.

"Show me?" Matty asks, leaning closer like his proximity will convince you further.

He feels like he needs to find this other piece of your jigsaw. He's half upset with himself that he didn't pick up on your love for literature before now, and the instant you show him he will be following your account.

You smile, tilting your head a little and you look into those gorgeous brown eyes promising, "Later."

"Okay." Matty agrees with a grin before leaning in that bit more and pressing a kiss to your lips.

You savour the first peck you've received in a while and you can't get the smile off your face. Not even as you look back across the table to your Mum and Aunt who are looking at the both of you like gossiping school girls, and you already know you're about to get some teasing.

Your Auntie Sharon can't help but ask you, "Do you feel like you're living some teenage dream?"

Matty cackles at that and pulls you into his side, so you just let your head rest on his shoulder as you giggle and nod, "Every day," and you love the smile the sisters send your way.

It's easy for both you and Matty to see that they are overjoyed with just how happy you are. Matty doesn't think he's ever quite seen so much love shine from a mother and auntie and it makes your boyfriend so beyond happy to see just how much your family adore you and want the best for you. And he loves the fact that he seems to have their approval, if their reactions are anything to go by. He's unable to stop himself from kissing the top of your head.

"Speaking of," Matty says, pulling back for a moment so you can see him again, and he has the biggest grin you've ever seen on his lips, "I wanna see your room."

Immediately you remember that you need to gut the place as soon as you get back home. Your Mum starts silently pissing herself at Matty's request and you know your Aunt has seen the state of your bedroom too so she knows the panic you must be feeling. You 100% can not have him see the posters of his band on your wall, so you just chuckle and shake your head, "Not until later."

And thankfully Matty doesn't get the chance to pry because your 3 little cousins run up to the both of you and start begging your boyfriend to join them on karaoke which he agrees to very quickly. And it is one of the best moments of the night when you see the four of them up there singing, the kids really needing the autotune Matty normally has on but it's adorable nevertheless. And your heart all but stops when your boyfriend gets them all dancing, but it's when Zack and his little sister Macie pull you up with them to dance too which is the most fun. Because never in your life has it been hard to dance to one of Matty's songs.

Afterwards the night seems to pass by in a blur of dancing, loud music, and alcohol. Around 10, the kids end up leaving as they are all slowly falling asleep and the parents take them home but not before you kiss your little cousins goodbye.

After Olly leaves, you and Matty stick to yourselves in the booth that the three of you were once occupying. And the rest of your night is spent drinking and people watching from your quiet corner of the room.

You're unsure how, but you end up sitting in Mattys lap, his hold on your waist tight to keep you cosied up to him and your legs are over him, his other hand gently stroking the back of your thigh. The anecdotes of your family has Matty giggling and he loves hearing you talk about them with such delight clear in your voice.

The joy sticks with the both of you as you leave and make it back to your parents house. Your family's drunk antics have you all giggling in the back of the taxi and the laughter continues once you're all inside your childhood home.

Your Dad heads straight for the kitchen for another beer and he offers Matty one which he politely declines after your Mum offers him a cup of tea instead. You jump on the brew order, not needing to be any more tipsy than you already are and so your Mum puts your Dad to work making those.

Just as Matty's slipping his shoes off in the hall, he asks you, "Where's your toilet?"

"Upstairs, and it's the second door on the left." You tell him, "Don't get lost."

"I'll endeavour not to." Your boyfriend smiles before quickly kissing your cheek and jogging up the stairs.

You can't quite get the grin off your face as you head into the lounge, and you see your Mum smiling at you and you give her a hug because you could never give the gorgeous woman enough of them. She embraces you like any loving mother should, giving you a long warm hug which you realise how much you miss not being at your disposal all the time. When you pull back from her, she doesn't let you go far, holding your shoulders as she gives you a look that screams she's about to be serious.

"So," She starts.

You're a bit nervous asking, "So?"

"You're happy?" Your Mum asks, and you all but breathe a sigh of relief.

You promise her, a smile growing on your face as you nod, "The happiest I've been in a long time."

"It shows, darling." She grins, and rubs your arms a little as she continues, "I'm so thrilled for you."

"You approve then?" You ask after giggling a little.

"Not that us not approving would make a single bit of difference to you going out with the man who you've got posters of in your bedroom." Your Mum laughs a bit but nods, "He's a gentleman, couldn't ask for any better."

Your stomach drops slightly, still stuck on the first thing she said, "I need to take them down," You panic knowing there's a fair bit of 1975 memorabilia in your bedroom, so you plead with her, "You'll have to distract him for me in a bit."

"I will happily chat his ears off. And yes, we approve." You Mum chuckles, but then her words almost make you cry when she softly grabs your hand and squeezes as she says, "It'd be difficult not to when you see someone caring for your daughter and making her so happy."

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you pull her into another tight hug and after a second of being in her embrace you whisper, "Thank you Mum. Love you."

"Love you more," She tells you before your Dad shouts that your drinks are ready in the kitchen.

The cup of tea was a much needed rest bite after a night of drinking, but you realise how much time has passed when you're half way through your brew and Matty's still not come down to collect his. "He's been up there a while." You hum aloud, getting slightly paranoid he's in your bedroom, planning an escape after seeing himself on your bedroom walls.

Your Dad laughs, "Still on the toilet or snooping?"

"Either is plausible. He also could have fallen asleep." You chuckle, but then you decide to grab both of your brews and head upstairs, "I'll go up and make sure he's not stuck in the bathroom."

"Night lovie." Your Mum blows you a kiss after your Dad says, "Goodnight."

"Night night." You smile before heading up.

And you know your fears are confirmed that your boyfriend is in fact having a nosey when you see that your bedroom door is open and the light is on. Sighing slightly, you prepare to bite the bullet and you step into your old room and see that your boyfriend is standing, staring at your poster filled walls.

"You're a snoop." You shake your head as you put your mugs down on your bedside table.

Matty's head flies around to look at you then, and thankfully instead of seeing horror, his face is full of amusement.

"Can you blame me?" Your boyfriend chuckles, looking back at your walls, "I feel like I've just walked into your head."

He's not far wrong with that analogy. There's the big black and white 1975 poster on your wall which is the same as the picture inside the self titled vinyl of the boys in 2013. Smaller posters surround it, some of other musicians like Lana Del Rey, The Neighbourhood, and you have a bigger Arctic Monkeys one from the AM era not far from it.

Horrifyingly for you though, there's a lot more 1975 stuff around your room though, whether that be the vinyls proudly displayed on your shelves, lyrics posters, little drawings of the band you found online in your youth that you were gifted for your birthday. Not to mention pictures you had printed out from their various gigs you've been to over the year. There was a lot of memorabilia to say the least, and you just have to pray your boyfriend doesn't run in the other direction.

On the brighter side, looking at your bedroom now you realise that if you posted a picture of it to Tumblr back in the day you'd have gone viral long before Chicken Shop Date ever existed. What a wasted opportunity, because you certainly won't be doing so now.

"Yeah twenty-year-old-me's head." You chuckle, because if you don't laugh at yourself, you will cry. "You don't consume my head like this anymore."

Matty glances at you then and his look screams that he doesn't believe a word that's just left your lips. Which in fairness it was a bit of a lie, but he consumes your thoughts now in a much different way to what he did back then. You loved his music and the version of himself he let the world see back then, but now you're in love with him, the real him, more and more so every day.

You hum truthfully, "There's a few more posters I'd have up now of a few other people."

"Slightly offended," Matty nods, turning properly towards you then, "But I'll allow it."

Your boyfriend steps to just in front of you then, and he grabs your hands and squeezes them for a second before he moves closer and holds your hips to his instead. There's a small hopeful smile on your face then, feeling like from the gesture alone you don't have to be scared of the answer to your question, "Scared you off?"

Matty silently chuckles at that, and he looks so lovingly into your eyes that you're sure your heart skips a beat as he says, "You'd have to have a lot worse than posters of my band on your wall to scare me off baby."

You hum, your grin getting bigger as you wrap your arms around his neck and start twirling the curls at the back of his head. "You don't know about a few things."

"The cardboard cutout of me in your wardrobe?" Matty can't help but grin with a raised eyebrow.

Your jaw falls open, and you're fully frozen for a moment before you gasp, "You massive snoop!"

Matty quickly kisses your shock away with a laugh before pulling out of your grasp and heading over to the guilty wardrobe. He looks so excited to reveal it, it makes you want to die. "No, your Mum told me about that one." Matty gets the door, opening it to reveal that on the back of the door is a 2014 him with his hair flicked over to one side of his head, wearing a denim jacket and black skinny jeans.

Whilst you're mortified because your boyfriend has seen a cardboard cutout of himself, you can't help the small smile that forms on your lips in reaction to that picture of him. It's always been one of your favourites, but it seems Matty doesn't feel the same way.

Matty's frowning as he looks at himself, "That's such an awkward picture of me."

"Don't you dare," You slap his shoulder, upset that he feels that way about that picture of himself, "It was one of my favourites."

Matty hums, looking between you and the life-sized cutout before asking you accusingly, "How many times have you kissed it?"

"No," Your face immediately flushes then, and your hands come up to hide yourself from him as you scorn, "Stop it Matthew."

Your boyfriend can't help the loud laugh that leaves his lips then, your reaction alone being confirmation enough for him. "I'll take that as more than once." Matty chuckles as he wraps his arms around you and lifts you up twirling you around which makes a little surprised squeal leave you.

It ends up with you both giggling and as Matty places you back on solid ground, he's unable to stop himself from gently grabbing your chin and guiding your lips to his. Only then does a satisfied hum leave his lips, feeling like he's been starved of your kisses all night in comparison to how you've been together the past few weeks.

You stand there for a little while, blissed out in each other's company as you kiss, needing it after a long night of you being surrounded by others. Your little bubble is back and you take full advantage of having him back all to yourself. The love you have for this man radiates from you and you hope that he can feel it despite you still not being brave enough to say it out loud. But at this point words aren't necessary, the way you are with each other speaks volumes and it's clear to everyone who sees you that the two of you are in love. And you can both feel it too.

Once you eventually catch up on lost time from having his lips on your own, you take a seat on your bed after handing Matty his brew and you start finishing your own as your boyfriend carries on looking around your bedroom.

"Now I know you're into reading, I'm only just realising how many books you have." He smiles, glancing over the shelves across the top of your picture rail that are filled to the brim with books.

"Yeah," You hum, looking at them with a smile on your face before you explain, "They are all in different spots in my flat so I guess it's not as obvious it's a hobby."

"You have so many." Matty smiles, and after taking a sip of his tea he asks, "Have you read them all?"

"God no," You shake your head, "Probably most of them, but the aim is to fill out a little library room in my future home. That's the dream... Rolling ladder and everything."

The smile Matty gives you then makes your heart warm, and it's every girl's dream that their boyfriend responds to that dream with, "I'm down to make that happen."

As you take your last gulp of your tea, Matty moves over to the set of books that are proudly displayed on top of your chest of drawers and asks, "What are these books with the tabs in?"

And seeing the multicoloured series combined with your boyfriend picking one up, it makes you almost spit your tea out. Attempting to remain calm, you shake your head and nod to the red book in his hand, "We don't talk about these books. Pretend you never saw them."

Matty flips it round to see the cover properly and starts, "A Court of-"

"No," You all but yelp as you stand and grab the book from his hand and place it nearly back with the others in the series, "You never saw them, ignore them."

"Hard to ignore when there's so many notes in them." Matty raises his eyebrows at you.

"Hush." You say, grabbing his free hand and pulling him back towards your bed, "You've just reminded me I need to text Flo."

"What you texting her about?" Your boyfriend asks as you get her contact up on your phone, "I've not done anything wrong, have I?

"No," You chuckle, squeezing his hand before you let it go as you sit on your bed and start typing, "You're good. I promise."

Just wondering if it was you or Alex who read acomaf and he wrote body paint bc you recreated a specific chapter????? Let me know 👀x

Matty sees you grinning as you type out your text, so he has to ask, "What you messaging her?"

As your boyfriend tries to be nosy and sits beside you, trying to look over at your phone, after sending the message you lock your phone and smile at him. You briefly lean towards him and place a kiss on his cheek after you say, "That's for me and her to know and for you and Alex to find out."

Matty hums and kisses your lips, but then he smirks as he says, "Sounds like a fun night."

You burst out laughing, "Shut up."

And in the morning you'll be laughing again when you see Florence's reply of, I'll leave you to your own deductions, but I'll say there's more than one reason I call him Darling... If you know what I mean 😜😘x

Feeling the day start to catch up with you, you start getting yourself ready for bed, getting your pyjamas on and you leave Matty in your room as you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth. You're happily washing your face still with the slight buzz all the alcohol you had tonight mixed with feeling head over heels in love, and you look at yourself in the mirror and notice just how happy you are.

You truly don't think you've ever been this happy in yourself. Everything in your life is currently so amazing and has a magical feel to it, you hope that this joy you're feeling never ends. You have a career which is only flourishing more and more now you and Amelia are getting the credit you've long deserved, your family are all happy and healthy, and you have a boyfriend who makes you feel like a princess and who you're madly in love with.

However, happiness like this can't last forever. And your boyfriend makes damn sure of that. From the bathroom, you hear him shout your name and when you respond, he asks, "Why have you marked a page where the guy says, 'Put your hands on the headboard.'?"

You all but choke on the air in your lungs, and you can see your now horrified expression in the mirror as you yell back, "No, STOP!"

"You dirty bitch," Matty laughs loudly, "You marked all of the sex scenes."

You barely dry your face before running back to your room and see the horrific sight that is Matty Healy reading A Court Of Silver Flames on your bed. It's all forms of wrong, mostly because he's reading the smut, but also because he's reading the 5th instalment of the series first and that's crazy spoilers.

It gets worse for you when you see him flick to another of your tabs earlier in the book and his eyes go wide after he looks at the page and then to you and there is the beginnings of a smirk on his lips as he asks, "They did what under the table?"

"Matty, give me the book." You hold your hand out to it, but your boyfriend has none of it.

His eyes are back on the page, no doubt reading the notes you annotated on the page, and he can't help but laugh, "So that's where you learned to do that."

At this point you've had enough, fully scurrying over your bed and throwing a leg over to straddle him to try and pin him down to your bed as you try and get your book back. "That book came out two years ago. I knew how to do that long before," You make it very clear.

Matty can only cackle, trying to push himself up and raising the book above his head so it's out of your reach. He shakes his head at you, but his smile is coy and suggestive as he looks at you accusingly, "You filthy little slut."

"Don't call me that when you've just read that." You warn him, shaking your head, one hand thankfully now on your book, "I know what you're doing."

"Caught me." Matty chuckles, still not releasing your novel though. He smirks as he says, "You're still a slut though."

You sigh at that and just decide to own it and shrug with a little smile finding its way to your lips. But you can't help but laugh when Matty adds, "My slut." And you just quickly lean down and press a kiss to his lips to shut him up.

When you finally pry the book from your boyfriend's hands and he laughs at you for quite a while, but you just put it back where it belongs before getting yourself into bed. Matty then decides he wants to do his skincare which makes you whine, not bothering to do yours tonight, and after you told him this he decided that he was going to be the one to take on the task.

After telling him off for using far too much product both on his face and your own, the both of you settle into bed, only being disturbed by your Mum knocking on your door to ask if Matty was indeed snooping. You all laugh after you tell her that he was and your boyfriend tries to defend himself which makes you scoff. Your Mum just laughs along before bidding the both of you goodnight.

Fifteen minutes pass of you and Matty catching up on the day's events that you might have missed on your phones. But then Matty gets carried away when he asks for your BookTok account and you reluctantly show him which leads to him going down a rabbit hole with your videos for another 10 minutes before you confiscate his phone and tell him that he can look at more tomorrow.

Now, you're both cuddled up in the darkness of your room, breathing each other in and you're practically melting into your boyfriend as his hand is routed in your hair, giving you a head massage. You're getting sleepy now, the alcohol definitely catching up with you and being so warm in the arms of the man you love only adds to the comfort and peacefulness.

Before you succumb to sleep, you say, "Thank you for being so lovely with my family tonight."

"Thank you for inviting me, baby." Matty smiles, kissing your forehead softly as he adds, "I had a lovely time."

"Truly Matty," You say, sounding a little more awake as you really want him to know how genuine you are when you say, "Thank you for being so lovely, especially with the kids."

Matty is smiling at the memory of all of you on the dancefloor earlier this evening when he tells you honestly, "I love kids. It was no trouble at all."

You hum, already knowing just how good he was with children. Seeing him with Adam and Carly's little boy was enough proof of that, but him being equally as adorable with your family really melted your heart. It certainly had you thinking about future possibilities.

"I think Sam liked you." You whisper into his neck. Matty hums in agreement, and after a few seconds he replies, "I think Sam's my favourite of them, if I'm allowed to say that."

"I don't think we're supposed to admit it, but he's my favourite too." You spill your little secret. You do miss the nights you were babysitting him a lot, you miss him like crazy and you are definitely going to arrange for him to come to your flat again soon so you can spoil him rotten.

You can't get over tonight though, the memories replaying quickly in your mind leads you to be grinning like a fool as you say, "You doing karaoke with him might have been my favourite moment of tonight."

Matty's kissing your forehead again and you expect another hum of agreement, but he surprises you when he says, "My favourite moment was finding that cardboard cut out."

Immediately you slap his bare chest and tell him, "Stop it right now," as you feel yourself flush.

Matty can't help his cackle then, but he has to push you a little, "What would nineteen year old you be thinking right now if she knew ten years later I'd be in this bed with you?"

You chuckle at that, and there's no hesitation in your answer, "She'd be saying 'fuck the risks, get all his clothes off'." You tease him then and let your hand run down his chest until your fingertips are tracing the elastic of his boxers.

Matty's breath catches in his throat for a second then, but he thinks he does well at restraining himself when he just brushes his lips against your ear and encourages, "You're more than welcome to."

You smirk, loving the thought but you're having none of it, "Absolutely not."

Matty chuckles knowing it was coming and he can only say he's thankful that you move your hand from his waistband before any more sinful thoughts run through his mind. Although he thinks the fact he's quite literally on your walls and the revelation he's had about you reading smutty books, he does think you'd quite enjoy what he has in mind. Maybe another time though.

There's a few minutes of silence between you then, and you're very nearly asleep when your boyfriend asks, "Got anything else you wanna tell me baby?"

By your slow and sleepy response alone, Matty knows he's lucky he caught you still awake, "Nothing else yet until we're married with kids so you can't run away scared."

"Come on, can't be that bad." He encourages.

You hum, "It is." But you're happy enough as there's no way in hell you're telling him a thing.

Matty lets the silence pass between you then, and you're about to slip into sleep until he speaks back up. And your world cracks with his words, "Is it the fanfiction you wrote about me?"

Pulling out of his grasp immediately, you feel wide awake with your heart beating out of your chest as you stumble asking, "How- H- How do you know about that?" Your blood has certainly just run cold and you're sure that if there was any light in the room you would look extremely ill because you certainly feel it. Never have you felt so mortified in your life.

But Matty's just grinning as he explains, "Dimz is very keen on embarrassing you when she's drunk."

"I hate her so much." You curse her as you roll away from him and hide into your pillow, willing your bed to suffocate you.

Matty just laughs at your reaction though and follows you over to the other side of your bed. He doesn't let you escape, instead he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you gently back into him as he says into your ear, "I wanna know what it's called and what it was about."

"Absolutely not, no, never." You mumble into your pillow.

After a few minutes of reassurance that he's not bothered by it, and he hasn't been put off by your deepest darkest secret, you vow that you're going to get Amelia back for her betrayal. Apparently he's known about it for a while and has never been fussed by the news, which might be the only blessing of the whole situation. Although you still would have preferred him to find out about it years, if not decades down the line.

Eventually, after a lot of coxing and playful kisses, he has you back facing him and you've relaxed against his warm body again. And you think your soul yearns for him once more when his nose rubs against yours as he whispers, "Obsessed with you baby."

"Obsessed with you too." You hum, a smile dancing over your lips which Matty can't help but kiss a few times.

Only when your kisses cease does he grin, "Oh, I know."

~*~*~*~ 7th March 2023 ~*~*~*~

Going to Los Angeles, for one of the most nerve-wracking weekends of your life, after having spent the best time with your family and your boyfriend was a change big enough to give you whiplash. Not to mention the horrendous jet lag that had messed up your schedule the first day in LA.

You and Amelia had been trying to fight the consequences of the change of time-zones, and the effects of your nerves when thinking of the upcoming events. At least you were able to be productive when you and your best friend were stuck being up during the night, and had started your practising of questions and notes about all the different people that would attend the Oscars After Party.

The day has been spent rehearsing, doing fittings for the content you were recording, and having a meeting with the Vanity Fair team. And though you've only done a few things, the day has felt so long; you could've shed tears of happiness when getting back to your hotel room. It is mostly because jet lag has been kicking your arse, so running yourself a bath and reading a book in the tub is your form of self-care tonight.

You do your skincare routine once out of the bath and let your hair air dry as you continue reading your book. However, your reading is interrupted when your phone starts ringing from where it landed on the bed after you tossed it as soon as you got back.

You almost don't go over to pick it up, but when you catch a glimpse of a silly photo of your boyfriend that you have as his contact picture, you almost throw the book over your shoulder and answer his call.

"How's your day going baby?" He says with a loopy smile as soon as you answer.

It's embarrassing the way your expression instantly falls into an enamoured one when you see his pretty face. For a second, you forget how draining the day has been, until you remember he asked you a question, "Yeah okay, thank you. It's just such a massive production, it's a lot to wrap my head around." When you think about it, you get nervous all over again, "I'm glad we got here a week before; lets it all sink in a bit more."

"Yeah and it's completely understandable that you'd need time to adjust to it," He can also see how tired you look, probably jet lag, and the nerves must be playing with you to make it worse. "Remember it's still only your third carpet like this and you've smashed it each time, so you're only gonna get better and better."

You roll your eyes at yourself because your insides melt when hearing him reassure you. A drunk-in-love giggle almost slips past your lips as you say, "Thank you baby, I hope so."

Matty is not having any doubt though, so he states, "You will."

If he keeps saying stuff like that, you will either cry because he's not next to you or simply manage to push those three words that keep coming to your mind when you see him, so you change the topic, "Well enough about me, how are your rehearsals going?"

You need the inside gossip on Saturday Night Live. Any and all details you'll happily eat up.

"It's okay, thank you. Just boring as fuck now the promo pictures and clips are done," The way he sighs and rolls his eyes in annoyance makes you giggle. He's a sassy one.

"Surely you get to see them practising the sketches," You reply excitedly, you had always been fascinated by the process behind SNL, "That must be cool."

He bursts your bubble by funnily pointing out, "No baby, it's so painfully American. Once you've seen it once. It's just shit."

"But you're so easily impressed," You joke with a smirk on your face. "How are you struggling?"

"Ha ha." He says dryly but a smile plays on those gorgeous lips, "You'd understand if you were here seeing it."

Your chest sinks a little as you say, "I'm sorry I can't be."

"Don't be silly, you're busy," Matty says quickly, taking it back because he did not mean to make it sound like that. There's a pout on your face though so to try and distract you, he continues updating you on his rehearsal process, "We're rehearsing for a few hours and then pissing about for the rest of the day."

That automatically piques your interest, "What have you been entertaining yourselves with?"

"Today I'm going to meet Caveh. Remember, he's the one I told you about that's basically fucked his marriage over the fact he's videoing every aspect of his life."

"Oh yeah. That should be interesting." The memory of Matty showing you about that man comes to the forefront of your mind, and after your boyfriend filled you in on some of the 'lore' behind him, you were very intrigued by him. So it would be fun to see what Matty could find out from meeting him.

Your boyfriend has been so fascinated by him that you can see his excitement through his expression, "Yeah, I'm looking forward to it."

"What else have you been occupying yourself with?" You further ask, because there is no way he has been able to stay in his hotel room doing nothing. He's full of energy, like a fucking golden retriever, and you know it very well.

Mysterious, as he always tries to be, he replies, "Something I actually need your help with soon."

You sigh, thinking back to the many things he had said prior to you parting ways, "Matty we've discussed this: I'm not sending nudes regardless of time difference."

"No baby, not that," He huffs funnily, before he backtracks and very honestly says, "Although I do want to FaceTime again later."

You narrow your eyes at him and deem him, "Filthy."

All smug, he shrugs, "You know me."

You shake your head at him, but your curiosity is itching you so you ask again, "What do you need me for other than your filthy habits?"

He sits up straight, and gets all serious, "So me and Jordan are filming some stuff, making it a bit of like a day-in-the-life thing but funny, hopefully. I was just wondering if you'd do the honour of editing it all together?"

You're so intrigued by him proposing the idea that he's essentially recording vlogs, not expecting that from him at all, so you're even more intrigued now as to which direction he will take when making them because there is no way it isn't for a bit that will become something bigger. While you try to think what he could be actually doing, you're silent so your boyfriend takes this as hesitancy and quickly adds, "No pressure if not, Jordan can manage just fine but I'd really love to have you involved in some way or another. And I know just how good you are, so I thought I'd ask."

You can't help but pout at him for being so cute, "I'd love to, might just have to finish it up properly after the Oscars."

He nods childishly, "Of course, that's fine."

Looking at your state, in your bathrobe while laying atop of the bed, you actually tell him, "You can send me stuff in the meantime, I'm not doing much when we aren't rehearsing, in fittings, or revising."

He tuts at you, "You should be out and about exploring LA."

You shrug, "Yeah but I plan to stay out here a bit longer so I can do that afterwards."

"I'm gonna fly out to you after SNL," Your boyfriend states.

Biting your bottom lip, you get a bit shy when you think you don't want to burden him by cutting short his very much needed rest before resuming his world tour, "You don't have to if you wanna go home."

He doesn't even have to think about it, "Why would I wanna be at home if you're not there?"

You press your lips together, holding back from the urge to screech at his words. Instead you let out an unconvinced, "Home comforts?"

He rolls his eyes, before staring at you through the screen, "You're my home comfort. Wherever you are is home, baby."

You can't hold it together anymore, covering your face with one of your hands and fully melting into the mountain of plush pillows, "I'm still too jet lagged for you to be cute, don't make me cry."

He coos, "Don't want you crying baby. I do miss you though."

"I miss you too..." you pout at him, and he pouts back while fluttering his lashes at you. You laugh at his puppy face, "God we're so pathetic, it's only been a few days."

He grins big and bright, "Ahhh but we're young romantics, it's the way."

You sigh, thinking ahead, "God help us when you go back on tour."

"Don't remind me," he groans, running a hand over his face. "I do hope you can come to a few of them."

You hum, as if you're considering it, but when you see him frowning, you giggle and assure him, "I'm sure I'll get to some."

In a shy little voice, he proposes, "You can book off our next UK tour."

"Well of course..." You say, because that was always the plan. You remember a very important aspect of a certain show though, "Just let me know when it'll be and I'll round up the family for your London date."

Your heart practically leaps from your chest when you see his face light up at the mention of your family and all those he had invited over to the shows, "Yes, I can't wait to have all the fam there!"

Something very important comes to mind when you think about his shows, so you feel the urge to say, "But can you do me a favour though and stop being a slut and pulling your top up when you sing? It's very distracting."

"I'll try," he quips back with a smirk. "Don't want to out you as my whore to your whole family, right?"

Your jaw is basically on the floor at his words, but you're quick to get yourself together and reply with rosy cheeks, "Okay, save those thoughts for later Mr. Healy."

His voice drops an octave when he says, "Baby..." with that smirk that makes your knees weak.

But you need to be strong so you look away and go back to something else, "Anyway, tell me more about your funny vlogs. And what elaborate title have you come up with for this series of videos?"

"I don't like the fact you know I've come up with a big name," He has the audacity to say with a frown.

You roll your eyes sarcastically, "You're so predictable." a smile playing on your lips that you can't quite hide.

He offers you a blank face and no enthusiasm as he says, "Gee, thanks."

"Come on, what's it called?" You urge, knowing that it's something ridiculous.

He sighs and lets the silence linger for a little, your curiosity growing and showing on your face, before he lets out, "A Theatrical Performance of an Intimate Moment."

You're so confused at first, the 'intimate moment' bit throwing you off instantly, so you quickly declare, "Yeah, I will definitely steer clear of actually being in these videos."

"Why?" He asks, almost offended.

You can't believe he's asking why when it's so obvious, "It sounds like a shit sex tape!"

He scoffs, shaking his head entirely in disapproval, "You're a little shit."

"L-" You catch yourself before you say it. A sarcastic 'love you' is not how you want to say those words for the first time. But you realise again just how much you need to say those words to him soon, it's getting painful to withhold them now. You laugh to disguise your previous mistake before saying, "Little shit I might be, but it does sound like a porno."

He thinks about it for a second, smirking when he gets your point, "Well, if you put it that way... You sure you don't wanna star in it baby?"

~*~*~*~ SNL Day ~*~*~*~

Matty is having an awful day. The worst in fact. For the most part, he tried not to let it show. He first battled his feelings by recording another section of the A Theatrical Performance of an Intimate Moment, but clearly being trapped inside a suitcase for a prolonged period of time left Matty to stew in his thoughts for a long while which made his mood worse when he eventually escaped his self-inflicted trap.

While the bits he directed Jordan to record of George slamming the now empty suitcase into a wall did make him laugh, the deflating feelings stuck around. And Matty would love to say the reason is solely because he's had enough of this week being trapped in America and being forced to be on the set of a show they weren't needed for five days of rehearsals for, he's lying to himself.

Matty knows and has buried the reason he's in such a foul mood now only hours before showtime is because he's not in America with you. He's on the other side of the country from you when all he's like to do is trap you in a never ending series of hugs and kisses. And to top the day off, he's barely had a chance to speak to you today with the time difference and the fact that you've been preparing and rehearsing yourself all day.

The only saving grace about today for Matty had been the meal that he had with his family and friends. The band, his Mum, Lincoln, and Jack and his fiance all had a big meal together in a lovely restaurant. But the actual saving grace of that meal was the fact it was the last time he spoke to you before he was whisked away back to Rockefeller Plaza for SNL.

You'd been telling him about your day which you'd mentioned had been really long, going over and over what was going ahead the following day. And then you told him that you were due a full dress rehearsal that evening which you were nervous for.

Matty reassured you endlessly, and he loved hearing your voice on the other end of the phone. It picked his mood up so much that when you eventually had to say goodbye because you were called upon, it left him longing for more. The last thing he wanted was to be overbearing, but maybe it was the mere fact that Matty knew he couldn't get ahold of you because your phone was in a green room in LA and not on your person just made you feel that much further from reach. His mood was back to being pouty and distant, the only thing he wanted to do was sit in the corner of his own green room in NYC and stare at pictures of you he had on his phone.

Whether that be the funny ones you'd snapped of yourself on his phone pulling a funny face when he wasn't watching just to fill his camera roll with nonsense, or the selfies he'd taken of you together in bed on lazy mornings. His favourites were the ones that just had you in it, the innocent ones that he'd take of you in his home, sitting reading away or cooking, or simply the ones of you giggling at something he said while he had his camera on you.

Matty adores every last inch of you, and he has your stunning faces memories down to the finest detail. How could he not when he's so irrevocably in love? All he wants right now is to be by your side cheering you on instead of hearing your prep day stories on the other end of the phone. Matty wishes he could actually be kissing your cheek instead of looking at his Lock Screen of him doing exactly that.

The singer releases a long sigh at the fact he can't do any of those things in the slightest and he won't be able to for quite a while. With another deflated sigh Matty locks his phone, closes his eyes and rests his head against the back of the settee. He planned on staying that way, maybe having a nap just to pass the time, until he felt a kick to the shin.

Opening his eyes, all Matty was met with is George frowning, asking, "Are you gonna get the stick out of your arse at some point today?"

"What?" He raises his eyebrows.

"You heard," The drummer tells him, "Pull the stick out your arse mate, you're in the worst mood."

Matty rolls his eyes at the drummer and mutters, "Sorry, I just want this to be over with now."

"It's alright, we get it, but come on. Can't have you looking like this when we've got America to impress."

He knows George is trying to make him laugh, but it fails. Matty shows no enthusiasm as he lets out a big exhale and his words come out defeated, "Yeah I know, I just wanna get it done."

"With a smile, I beg." Jamie pleads, putting his hands together to emphasise how much he would love for Matty to adorn that stage persona in another hour.

"Yeah, yeah."

Bless Adam, he hears and sees the lack of joy from Matty and he is quick to sit right next to him to offer, "You wanna talk about what's up?"

Matty sighs, allowing himself a deep breath to not let his mate be on the receiving end of his foul mood, "No Hann, I'm good. I don't even really know what's up, I just don't wanna be here anymore." It was just one of those days when everything felt wrong. He just couldn't be arsed anymore, especially with it being such an unnecessarily long gig, just so the only Americans who watched the dumb programme could go on twitter and ask 'who are these 1975 guys?'

However, Matty doesn't realise that everyone just knows he's in a bad mood because he's acting like a love sick puppy. "We've been here for days watching and waiting, and it's fucking boring at this point when we've performed these two songs almost a hundred times now."

Adam sighs, his hand coming to pat Matty's back in a show of reassurance, "I know mate, but after tonight we can go back home and be done with it."

Be done with it? God Matty can't wait for that moment. But going back home? While you're over in LA? Matty doesn't think he can do it at all. Not for another day. He can't begin to bear it. So after doing a bit of googling and seeing that no flight will get him there quick enough, Matty brings up a contact of a friend he's not long since left.

Jack, could I ask a massive favour please?

Matty doesn't have to wait long for a reply.

Course buddy, anything. What can I do for you?

After all arrangements are put in place not even ten minutes later, Matty locks his phone, his chest feeling lighter almost instantly and he disguards the device, "Right Jamie lets mess about, grab the guitar and I'll Google some chords, George you get the weed, Ross get the alcohol."

Ross scoffs and sarcastically asks, "Anything else sire?"

Matty groans, but a smile is still plastered on his face despite the fact that his following words sound slightly irritated, "Oh piss off."

Adam scolds Ross, pointing out, "He's smiling again, everyone do your tasks!"

In a few minutes, they're all sitting round the lounge area with Jamie playing the guitar, Matty using his phone looking for chords for different songs they all enjoy, George is rolling a couple spliffs, and Ross is pouring a few shots.

After the induction of alcohol and hearing Jamie Squire's phenomenal voice singing The Corrs, with everyone singing along to a bit of Shania Twain improv, Matty started to feel a lot better. Or that was until he got a tobacco craving and his usual security wasn't around to safely take him to where he needed. It hit Matty all over again then that he couldn't just go and have a fag in peace, he needed security, how depressing.

"Where's Mark?" He huffs like a little kid, the craving becoming an annoying itch he needs to scratch the more he looks around and can't find his security.

Ross is busy on his phone, so he barely looks up and shrugs to say, "Dunno."

An eye roll is all Matty offers the bassist, and then goes around the room and the hallways asking, "Anyone seen Mark? I wanna go for a smoke."

There is only so much the singer can go with getting the same negative response, especially since that irritation from earlier was creeping back on him and he was well aware of it. Matty ends up leaving their room just to see if the big man was standing guard outside, but unfortunately luck still isn't on his side as Mark's nowhere to be found.

With quick fingers, he messages Mark. Clear and straight to the point.

Mark, where you at man???

Wanna go for a smoke but you're not here to serve and protect?!?!?!!

Matty paces up and down the hall as he waits for an answer. He almost starts counting down the seconds it takes Mark to say something back after a few minutes, but before he can start cursing out to the wind, his phone pings in his hand.

Sorry Matty, had to go back to the hotel. Upset stomach from lunch, ain't a pretty sight.

He wants to pull the hair out of his scalp when reading that, groaning out loud at the news. There is no pun intended since his fingers move quicker than his thoughts when he replies: Shit man.

Mark has seen Matty grow up basically, and they are so far beyond regular human boundaries by now that it is a no-brainer for Matty to dial his phone number and wait for the big man to answer, even if he's in the bathroom.

Worried, the singer asks, "You okay mate?"

Mark very quickly lets out in that neutral tone he always uses, "Not really Matty. In a lot of pain."

"You on the shitter?" Matty snorts out at the end, still finding a bit of comedy in the situation.

He hears the man sigh loudly before scolding him, "You're a little shit. You've got Tim with you, I'll see you tomorrow."

Matty cackles at Mark's loss of patience, but he doesn't let him go without saying, "Jokes aside, I hope you're alright mate." Of course, as the kid he is, he cannot hold back from adding, "I'll buy you a new pair of pants for tomorrow."

"Get gone, you little fucker," Mark hisses down the line, making Matty erupt in a string of silly giggles. Hearing Matty's laughter always gets Mark, so he chuckles lightly before wishing the lad, "Good luck."

Mark definitely regrets being a nice person when all Matty does is quip back with, "Good luck on the shitter." The last that Matty hears on the phone is a loud huff that makes him cackle again, the echo of his laughter so loud in the empty halls that he misses any sound coming from the other side of the line before Mark hangs up.

Finding Mark's situation so hilarious lifts Matty's spirits, so he goes back into their greenroom with a loopy smile. Everyone is sort of shocked to see him smiling again, but they don't question it since they need him in the best of moods for the show.

Still craving a smoke though, Matty decides that instead of being a responsible adult and going to find Tim, he gathers the lads and takes the spliffs that George has so deftly rolled from the coffee table. Instead of being hounded outside and risking the full show going to shit, they opt for smoking into the vent of the bathroom ceiling in hopes that the smoke alarm doesn't go off. Matty can't help but also think that this is excellent material for A Theoretical Performance of an Intimate Moment so he asks Jordan to start filming too which ends up with the chosen few laughing loudly at the shit the singer spews from his mouth without any prompting.

Thankfully no fire alarm was sounded during the fun pastime, but each and every one of them smoking weed in the bathroom almost pulled a Mark and shat themselves when there was a loud knock on their greenroom door. Never had a spliff been put out faster than that moment, which when Matty, George, and Jordan all head back out to the lounge area to see it's only Denise and Lincoln at the door there's a silent groan for wasting the rest of a good smoke.

All that being said, the singer can't be annoyed seeing how happy his Mum currently looks as she makes Ross get up and give her a cuddle after she lets go of Adam. Once released from the hug, Denise turns to see the faint smile on Matty's face and declares it a far better state than what Adam told her it had been before. So she grins brightly and almost shouts, "Thank goodness you lot have got him in a better mood."

"You alright Mum?" Matty asks as he walks up to her and Lincoln.

"Good, thanks chick." Denise hums, and as she hugs her son, she adds, "You look like you're having fun."

Matty giggles, his eyes closing slightly as he gives her a squeeze, "Yeah it's been funny."

George is obviously the next target for Denise's hugs, but as the gentle giant hugs her, he realises his mistake when she all but freezes in his arms. He's not closed or moved away from the toilet door. Her keen sense of smell means that George gets a slap on the chest and a frown as she scolds both him, her son, and the photographer, "Have you boys been smoking weed in here?!"

Laughter fills the room then and despite the small plea from their surrogate mother to again quit smoking both nicotine and weed, they all fall into easy habits of entertaining each other. It was just like being back at the Healy Household back in the day. Denise mothering them and asking if they'd eaten, followed by random anecdotes, and tons of laughter.

That is only interrupted when Denise's nosy self sees a familiar phone lighting up with a picture of what she hopes will be her gorgeous daughter in law. So she announces, "Matt, your phone is ringing," from the other side of the room and holds up the screen so he can see it is you that is calling.

Matty practically runs for the phone, making everyone laugh. Ross teasing loudly, "Absolutely whipped!"

"Damn right," Matty replies proudly as he gets a hold of his phone, and then leaves to the adjacent bathroom to answer. "Baby, hey!" He greets you loud and excitedly.

You can hear the smile on his voice, and it fully melts your heart. "Hiya Matty, how's your day been?"

"Can't lie baby it's not been great, but I feel a lot better now. Especially because now I get to hear your voice." He wishes he could say see your face, but you have oddly not facetimed him this time; though, he is not complaining at all.

He hears you cooing and his cheeks burn at the sound, "You're so cute, I missed you lots today."

"Never more than I miss you," He is quick to refute because hearing you through the phone is definitely making the void in his chest grow. He wants you there with him so badly and very selfishly.

"I beg to differ," You quip back. Matty hums funnily and it makes you giggle as he continues, "Let's agree to disagree because we'll be at it all night, how was your day baby?"

"Really good thanks, it was nice being all dressed up for it. The after party carpet is stunning this year, like a royal blue." And his face lights up when you add, "I felt like a bit of a princess in my dress."

He smiles when hearing that, and he's so excited to get the breath knocked out from his chest at the sight of you, "I'm sure you'll look like one. I can't wait to see you in it." But knowing you won't give him more details on your attire for tomorrow, he instead asks, "What are you up to now?"

"I'm in a taxi heading back to the hotel to watch SNL," You explain, but before he can ask why you're going back on your own, you continue, "Amelia's gone out with a few of the crew for some drinks but I wanted to get back, got scared I was gonna miss the start of it."

He isn't fond of you missing out on some fun to watch a shit comedy show that will only have them on for a total of eight minutes. So he lets you know just that, "Baby you should go out. It's American drivel, and you've heard the songs a hundred times before."

"I'm watching it Matty, I'm not missing seeing you on TV." You say seriously, but Matty can hear your smile as he listens to you all but coo, "It's not every day you get to see your boyfriend on TV." The tone you use to say that makes him chuckle lightly.

"That's cute but I know you're watching for Ross," Matty jokes and he's delighted when he hears your snort of laughter followed quickly by a giggle.

You sigh happily, "You know me so well." And in your head, you can clearly see him shrugging with a smug look on his face when he replies, "I try."

"Yeah, I know you do." You grin, your tongue swiping over your top lip as if to try and hide just how much this man makes you smile and feel all gooey inside.

Just as you're realising you have absolutely no need to keep your smile to yourself, your call is unfortunately interrupted by another knock on the greenroom door. Matty opens the bathroom door and stands in the doorway to keep in check with what's happening. You hear the commotion on Matty's end of the phone, somebody scrambling to let someone in, and once they do, you don't quite hear what's said now the room has gone quiet but from the mere reaction once the chatter starts again, it's easy to tell they were just called to set.

Matty sighs looking at his watch seeing that it's now 11:46pm and he's just beyond gutted he won't get a chance to speak to you for longer. He's disappointed to say the least and you can tell in his tone when he says, "They're calling us to go baby, I'm sorry." Matty takes a seat on the leather sofa quickly, using his shoulder to hold the phone to his ear so he can multi-task and put his shoes on as you finish up your conversation.

"Why are you sorry?" You laugh a little, "You should be excited. In fact, you best be excited because I don't want to see you half-hearting it on TV, Matty."

"You really are my toughest critic." Matty says as the room starts buzzing around him with everyone getting their stuff together. But even as he has his shoes on ready to go, he makes no effort to move.

The singer stays seated, nodding and holding his finger up to people trying to make him get a move on, but he's not shortening the already limited time he has talking to you for the sake of an extra minute of a producer telling him what to do. And he's glad he didn't just end the call because he gets to hear your giggle through the phone and he can picture you nodding in your taxi as you say, "Well of course, I can't have you ruining my reputation... I need America to be swooning at my boyfriend's stunning voice."

"Don't forget my life changing good looks." Matty can't help but sarcastically add.

"Oh, I could never." Your boyfriend can tell that you're grinning as you say that, but you do get a touch serious when you continue, "Have the best time okay, and I'll be watching every minute, so I want you to know that I'm there with you every second of the way."

"Thank you, needed that... and to hear your voice again before doing this." Matty's sure his heart just grew in size at your words. He's positively obsessed with you, and he can't wait for the night to be over so he can be another day closer to having you back by his side.

"Miss you so much baby." Your boyfriend tells you and he once again gets the urge to just let those three words slip from his lips.

Needless to say, you're in the exact same predicament, wanting so much to express your love for him but stopping yourself is almost painful. "I miss you too baby..." Is what you settle for, but Matty can hear exactly what you mean when you softly whisper, "Obsessed with you." like it pains you to not say what you actually wish to.

A smile lights up your boyfriend's face hearing those words though, and he gently repeats them back to you, "Obsessed with you too."

You hear your boyfriend's name get called then, and a quick, "I'm coming." falling from his lips, so you know it's really time for him to go. So you manage to quickly add, "Dance for me baby."

"Promise," Matty grins, "I'll call you after the show."

"Can't wait." You smile, and just as you're both about to bid each other farewell, another question falls from your lips, almost in a panic, "Wait, you didn't slick your hair back, did you?"

Your boyfriend lets out a loud laugh at that, knowing by now just how important his hair is to you. But instead of answering you, he leaves you with, "Guess you'll just have to wait and see."

Almost offended he won't tell you, you're about to scold him, "Matty." but he doesn't leave you the chance to. "Bye baby." Matty giggles, and he only puts the phone down once he hears you laugh again and say your own, "Byeeee."

When everyone makes it to set, the producer gives everyone another overview of how the night will go and the schedule that needs to be stuck to. The band can't help but be thankful that they aren't doing the sketches too because it means a much simpler night for them, with only two songs to play, one at 20 mins into the show and the other at 40 minutes.

The show begins without a hitch, Jenna Ortega completing her monologue without any hiccups and it lands well with the audience so Matty thinks that the writers should be proud of themselves for doing their job correctly. The sketches also seem to go okay and before he even knows it, Matty is being ushered onto the stage to take their places and get their instruments all ready.

He can feel the audience watching wait for the adverts to finish so they can begin and he gears himself up as he would before every show. A few playful words with the other boys, a few bounces on the spot and Matty's ready and in the right zone to entertain. He has to deliver for you, put on a show for you that will make you want to call him as soon as he can get back to his phone.

Thinking about your reaction makes him feel goofy and playful, like he wants to dance enough that he'll have you giggling for an hour about it on FaceTime. Matty can't help but smile at the mere thought of seeing and hearing you so happy, so to please only you that little bit more he twists a few strands of his hair around his finger so his curls really are on show for you, and he hopes you'll be happy with the result.

Before he can do anything else, the runners all start scrambling back behind the camera, the producers ensuring Jenna is in the correct spot to introduce them and the lights are lowered as he and the band take their position. There's the ten second countdown back from the adverts and then after hearing the actress say, "Ladies and gentlemen, The 1975." the song begins.

The familiar guitar riff fills the room, and the singer falls into his performance easily. The joy the music fills him with shows on his face and he can feel that the energy lifts in the room, and he feels lighter when he sees the smiles on people's faces as he looks around the small audience in front of him.

He can see fans in their merch, ones he recognises and new faces he doesn't but most of all he's just feeling the music and trying to be as flamboyant and as playful as possible as you are still in the forefront of his mind. He's playful as he sings, changing his voice to make this performance that little bit different from the other times he's sang I'm In Love With You on the tours, and he's doing it because you're all he has in mind. How can Matty not be happy and dance around whilst he sings a song about being in love when he knows the woman he's madly in love with is watching?

When the song reaches the first chorus Matty can't help but notice movement in the top right hand corner of the room, and he almost frowns seeing what the open door reveals. The singer looks to the top row of the seats facing them, and sees his Mum and her husband wondering in late but they are dancing as he sings the song which almost makes him chuckle. They stay where they are though and make no effort to find their seat and Matty can't think why but he tries to pay less attention to them and focus on performing.

Playful is the only way the singer could describe how he's performing, and ultimately feeling in this moment. He's putting on his show for you, as promised and he hopes you're loving every second as he's well aware how much him performing affects you and makes you happy. And there's nothing more that Matty ever wants to do than be the cause of your happiness.

Just thinking about your reaction when he comes to LA to surprise you in the morning, he absolutely cannot wait for. He's dying to feel you in his arms again, to feel your kisses on his skin, the thought absolutely electrifies him. This hour of his life can't go quick enough, and as soon as he's performed Oh Caroline later he's running back to the green room to grab his shit and then he'll be on the plane before he knows it. And considering the singer hates flying, he's never been so excited to fly across a country in his life.

The top right corner of the room catches the singer's eye again just as the door opens again revealing Mark stepping into the room. Matty has to hold back a frown seeing his security guard walk into the room considering he was meant to be on the toilet back at the hotel. Still confused, he lets his eyes linger on his Mum now saying a quick hello to Mark, but it's when the singer notices that his security is holding the door open for someone. And when that someone walks in, Matty almost stops breathing.

You are the person that walks out through the door, you're there in your jeans and your Drive Like I Do hoodie, tote bag filled to the brim on your shoulder and you all but throw it to the floor, your bright eyes never leaving the band you start singing along to the second chorus. Matty can't help the giggle that falls from his lips as he sings, and he has to bat away the tears that threaten to spring to his eyes.

His heart is thundering seeing that it's really you there in front of him, singing the words to his own song back to him. You're here, in New York, when you should be thousands of miles away. You're here, dancing with his Mum, supporting him, smiling and blowing kisses at him.

Matty's heart can't take much more, so he just leaves it all in his performance, and knowing the bridge (your favourite bit of the song) is about to come up, Matty decides to push himself. The one thing the producers told him was no swearing in the song, which considering the show airs after 12am seems really fucking pathetic but thankfully Matty remembers and flicks his face away from the microphone as the words he usually sing start to come out.

His eyes focus on you, giggling at the way his curls land on his face, but Matty can't stop himself from doing what he's about to. As he sings, "It's like one, two, yeah. I'm in love with you." on the you Matty changes to falsetto and at the same time he points up to the love of his life who is dancing along and singing the lyrics right back at him.

The singer sees you grinning and you hug yourself for a second, your hand going over your heart before you lift that hand to your lips and blow a kiss down to him. It's needless to say the tingles Matty can feel throughout his body at that moment is nothing to do with the adrenaline rush of singing live. It's all you, and all of the emotions you evoke in his body waking back up now you're in front of him again making him feel like he's floating on air.

The rest of the song goes by in a blur, him falling in step with Adam and Ross as they simultaneously sway side to side to the beat of the song. At one point he turns around to George to keep in time with the music but Matty only does that so the cameras can't see just how stupidly big his smile has got. Making eye contact with his best friend doesn't even ground him again though because George has a smile on his face too, along with a knowing grin.

When Matty raises his eyebrows slightly, the drummer easily picks up on the silent question of, You knew she was coming? And from the the casual little shrug and smile from the drummer, the singer knows his best friend well enough to hear the smug, Of course I fucking did. Deciding that he would deal with his best mate's little betrayal later, Matty just shakes his head faking disapproval and turns himself back around towards the cameras and audience, but his gaze can't help but find its way up to you once more as the outro wraps up.

The singer tries to hold himself together, and not seem jittery or eager to leave the stage as he takes in the audience's applause and he manages to tear his eyes from you to smile and graciously accept the cheers for his band. The 5 seconds in which he takes a short bow seems to drag on for half a lifetime when all he wants to do is rid himself of his guitar and wrap his arms around you, but the calm and collected facade changes as soon as he hears, "And we're off air."

Turning quickly to put his guitar down, Matty gives a quick thumbs up to Polly and Jamie before nodding to the rest of the band. But before they can even smile back at him, Matty turns and gives the audience another wave before he jogs off stage towards the double fire exit door knowing he'd find his way to you. And the singer is certain that this is the only time that he's ever been thankful that Americans have adverts every five minutes because he's never moved faster in his life.

And suddenly he's so grateful he's been stuck in this studio for a week, because he knows these corridors like the back of his hand at this point. Yes, he's aware he must look like a mad man, running through the halls in a suit like he's a btec James Bond, but nothing and no one will keep him from finding you in the next minute.

Your boyfriend is so glad that you seem to be on the same wavelength as him because when Matty turns his next corner, he sees you exit from the door he saw you enter when he was on stage. He genuinely thinks his heart skips a beat when your eyes meet, never ever have you looked so angelic than right now.

Despite just being in mundane clothes, you look like you're absolutely glowing. The smile on your gorgeous face is huge and the way you start sprinting towards him is enough confirmation that you're just as down bad for him as he is of you. And the way you clash together like bullets finally hitting their intended targets takes the breath from you both, but the momentum and adrenaline has Matty having to pick you up to spin you so you can both slow down.

There's a small giggle that slips from your lips as your arms tighten around Matty's neck which almost has the man's knees giving out, he's missed the sound of that laugh in his ear so very much. His hold around your waist only tightens as he slows his spinning as you press excited kisses to his neck as you continue to hug him until your feet hit the floor again.

It's almost like Matty's in a daze when he releases you just enough so you can each pull back and see each other's faces properly. He can see the shine in your eyes much like you can see the same in his when he cups both sides of your face and asks in utter shock and disbelief, "What are you doing here?!"

The smile that brightens your stunning face even more has Matty's heart almost bursting from his chest. Your hand comes to rest over one of his that covers your cheek as you say, "I told you, I couldn't miss this."

"Baby." Matty sighs in joy, and he doesn't have it in him to stop himself from quickly pressing his lips to yours. The peck is only short because he can't stop himself from saying, "I can't believe you're here."

You giggle again at that, your own heart beating out of your chest entirely at the fact you're back in the arms of the man you love. Deciding you need to steal another peck from those pretty lips of his, you quickly do so before you explain, "I was meant to be here so much earlier but the flight got delayed."

You trap Matty into another crushing hug when you as you elaborate, "Was supposed to be at the meal earlier, but clearly it wasn't meant to be."

As gutting as that news is, Matty can't bring himself to care that the initial plans for the day didn't go as planned. He believes that showing up how you just did made the surprise so much better because he had absolutely no inkling that you'd planned this. Not when you have the biggest gig of your life in less than 24 hours... Wait.

"But what about the dress rehearsal?" Matty starts to panic, pulling back from the hug so he can look at your face as he realises what you're putting at risk by being here in front of him, "Baby, what about the Oscars?"

"Dress rehearsal was this morning," You put his mind at ease and explain, "It's all done and there was nothing to do for the rest of the day or tomorrow until we have to watch the awards in the evening." You chuckle as you tell him, "I've been trying to get on a flight all afternoon."

"I can't believe you've flown to New York for this shit show when it's the biggest day of your life tomorrow." Matty can't help but run a hand through his hair, his other one still on your waist as he can't let you go at all. "God baby, you're so perfect but so silly at the same time."

Shrugging as you laugh and nod, accepting the truth as it slips from his lips but you have no regrets. Being back in his arms is a dream come true. "I just couldn't miss this." You tell him as you bury your head into his neck again, hugging him tightly. You're sure at this point you could get some sort of high just from inhaling his aftershave, it might be your favourite scent ever. Squeezing him tightly you admit, "And I missed you so much."

"I missed you more," Matty promises as he kisses the side of your head as he hugs you back.

If there was any doubt in either of your minds that you were each other's soulmates, this would have confirmed it. This moment of just utter euphoria from being back in each other's arms, but an overwhelming sense of peace washes through you also. You imagine this is the closest you'll get to heaven on earth, and you're so lucky you've found it.

Pulling back from the hug, you look into those gorgeous brown eyes as you say, "Impossi-" but your words are taken from you when your boyfriend's lips find your own again. This time it's not rushed, if anything, it's entirely savoured. Matty gently rests his index finger under your chin and tilts your head up slightly so he has you exactly where he wants you and you're happy to give in completely.

He kisses you like he can't get enough, his hold so tight like you might disappear and you're certain you fall even further in love with him in this moment. Matty's hums against your lips as you let your hand slide up into the back of his curly hair. You can't help but grab ahold of his tie with your other hand to keep him from going anywhere. Something that makes Matty smile into the kiss and subsequently you do as well but you don't let him get away. Your lips find each other over and over, both releasing little pleased hums here and there just to further show how much you love the sensation.

You've missed this. You've missed how at home you feel in his arms, and how his kisses make you feel like the world has ignited around you. The way your heart yearns to be close to his says it all, you couldn't be apart for a week without needing to experience him again.

Your kiss turns into a few longer ones, which eventually shifts to the both of you giggling as you steal pecks from one another. Eventually your forehead rests against his and your gorgeous boyfriend gives you a soft Eskimo kiss which makes your heart stutter. A gentle giggle leaves your lips, you don't even hesitate with what you're about to declare, "I-"

"Matty!" A yell from down the corridor briefly interrupts the moment, and you don't have to look to know it's George.

This may be the first and only time you marginally dislike George Daniel for stealing the moment you were about to tell Matty that you love him. Equally though, when it happens you want it to be grander than in a random back corridor in a studio. But emotions are getting the better of you, and you feel it so so deeply now, you don't want to keep it to yourself for much longer.

Your boyfriend turns towards his best mate and hugs you into his chest as the both of you look down the corridor. The gentle giant waves at you with a smile on his lips but doesn't come any closer, instead he just tells Matty, "They need us to go over something really quickly in the green room."

"Give me two minutes G." Your boyfriend says as he holds you that bit tighter.

George nods, and then his eyes move to you and his smile gets that bit bigger as he says, "Good to see you Y/N/N."

"And you George." You grin, the smile you share is a knowing one, because he was the one you told first that you were making the trip over.

The drummer turns on his heel, briefly nodding to Matty in confirmation of those two minutes he gave him. And your boyfriend certainly makes the most of those two minutes. Arms wrap tighter around your waist and before you even realise you're hoisted into the air and span around which makes a loud giggle fall from your lips, and the joy that's on Matty's face has you spellbound. Stealing a few more kisses from the curly haired brunette, you don't want to let him go just yet so you make the most of every second.

When your feet return to the ground, you tell Matty that you're going to make the most of being at SNL and head into the studio again to finish watching the sketches with Denise and Lincoln. Matty nods, silently understanding that you don't want to feel in the way by going back to the green room with him when there's going to be a meeting of sorts, and that you may as well make the most of being here by seeing the show.

But your boyfriend has to ask, "How long has my Mum known?"

"Bless your Mum has been sorting everything out for me," You chuckle, "I told George but when he said that your Mum was coming I started liaising with her so you didn't get suspicious of George."

Matty pulls a face which screams betrayal as he asks you, "Who else has been hiding things from me? George, me Mum...You're all sneaky."

"Mark wasn't on the shitter," You laugh before divulging, "He was getting me from the airport." Overhearing that conversation in the car made you giggle, it was an effort not to tell him earlier when you were on the phone faking you were on the way back to your hotel in a taxi. You're just glad the roads here are as busy as the ones in LA so the background noise didn't give you away.

Matty scoffs at the news and shakes his head, "I'm surrounded by snakes." You just hum and nod before you lean in to kiss him once more. And you're certain your two minutes have long since passed when you eventually bid each other a brief goodbye and you head back into the studio as silently as you can.

The show seemed to pass by in a flash, the cringe of the sketches weren't as bad as when you were in the room watching them compared to when watching on TV so you found yourself having fun. But even more so when you got to dance with Denise again when the band came back out and performed Oh Caroline.

The gorgeous song was over before you knew it and you knew that there were only a few more sketches before the end of the show, so you were making the most of them until someone familiar took the free seat beside you. Before you can even congratulate him on a good show he's already cupped your face and leant in to kiss you cheek which just makes it so your smile is a permanent fixture upon your face. Matty scoots his chair as close to yours as humanly possible and he crosses his legs as he takes your hand and intertwines your fingers.

The sketches aren't as captivating as the way Matty's thumb strokes the back of your hand, you just end up watching him. You've missed the tiny things about him, like how he bounces his foot slightly as he watches the show, his small tell that he's not quite as comfortable as he makes out to be. You've missed the way he twists that front curl around his finger again absentmindedly as the world passes him by. You've missed everything about the gorgeous man beside you, but mostly, the overwhelming feeling of home he brings you. You lean your head down on his shoulder and smile brightly as you take a deep breath. There's no place you'd rather be than by this man's side, and you squeeze his hand a little to try and somehow silently convey that.

Feeling a gentle kiss being placed on top of your head adds to it even more, and when he leans his head down against yours you hear Matty whisper, just loud enough for you to hear over the sketch, "I'm so glad you're here."

Your heart flutters at that but even more so when he picks up your adjoined hands and kisses the back of yours. God, you love him so much. You both happy lose yourselves in each other's presence as you watch possibly the only decent sketch on this programme. The Weekend Update has both you and Matty in stitches laughing and you find that the laughter lingers even when they go into an advert break for the millionth time this evening.

A yawn is the reason your laughter stops which Matty pouts at and gently smiles, "You tired Baby?"

Nodding in confirmation, you also decide to tell him, "I'm gonna have to get the earliest flight in the morning. I need to be back in LA at the earliest opportunity, just to ease my mind." Because God only knows how you've thought about every way in which you might not get back to LA on time. But you're looking on the positive side, you're going to be fine and you'll get back with plenty of time to spare.

"I got you covered Baby," Matty grins, and he gives your hand another squeeze, "I was flying out right after this anyway."

Mark quickly taps your boyfriend on your shoulder to tell him he's needed back on set for the closing part of the show and you receive the loveliest kiss on the cheek before your boyfriend heads backstage. Five minutes later you're happily whooping and cheering for your favourite band as everyone is on set closing up the show.

And as soon as wrap is called, Denise and Lincoln show you the way back towards the lads greenroom and you're greeted with big smiles by everyone. Polly hugs you first, followed by Adam, Jamie, and George. But as Matty attempts to give you another hug, Ross swoops in and hugs you, taking you off your feet as he spins you around a little. He as you laughing in his arms as you hug him back, but the sheer surprise of it has you dizzy once your feet return to the ground.

Giggling, you tell him, "Missed you guys." And you look around them with nothing but love in your heart. They truly feel like a second family even after such a short amount of time. You can't believe that you first met these people just a handful of months ago, and now they aren't just your favourite musicians, they are actually your friends. And one is your boyfriend... You truly can't believe your luck.

"Never more than we miss you." Ross hugs you into his chest and you giggle at that.

Even more so when you see Matty is now perching on the arm of the settee and he's watching you and the bassist like a hawk, knowing his mate is trying to keep you all to himself to get under his skin. You feed into it though by squeezing Ross' waist tighter as you counter, "You'd be surprised, I've had years of longing for you all don't forget."

"Don't we know it." Matty chuckles and the lads and Denise laugh.

But Ross briefly lets you go so he can look down at you and he holds your shoulders as he grins, "And we all know I was your favourite."

Your smile matches his as you all but giggle, "Only because Matty was with Flo at the time." The room erupts in laughter then and the bassist quickly leans down and kisses your cheek before you go and take the seat beside where Matty is perching. Your boyfriend's own smile lingers for a while before he slides himself down into your lap and cuddles himself against you.

Both of you being entirely soppy, resting your head against each other, your arm moving over his waist as he presses his kisses to your temple, then cheek, then your lips. And you savour them all, stealing another kiss from those pillowy lips of his until you pull away feeling a little self conscious as there are way too many eyes in this room.

It's all a bit chaotic by the time everyone packs their stuff up. And by the time you're all ready to leave the room it's close to 2:30am. Denise and Lincoln wished you well before heading back to their hotel about 45 minutes ago and you're now ready to do the same, feeling completely exhausted after a long day. Matty smiles at you when you release a tired yawn, and he throws his arm around your shoulder to pull you into his body as he begins to drag his suitcase along with you towards the green room door. Everyone is loitering with their cases though so the both of you pause, waiting for the others to get their shit together.

It seems that everyone around you is so manic, that your quiet conversation goes relatively unheard. Matty turns towards you and smiles, "Let's go to the airport."

"What?" Your eyes go a little wide, "Like right now?"

"Right now." Matty nods with a grin. You shake your head a little, mostly confused because, "There aren't any planes to LA at this time, Matty."

"There are," He chuckles, "If you have a private one, and thankfully I have a friend who's not using his right now."

Your jaw falls open, and Matty can't help but glance at those pretty lips of yours. It takes everything in him not to kiss them. "Matty, we can't." You shake your head. No way can you impose like that. Taking a private jet just to benefit yourself, it's something from a story, not something you can actually do.

"We can and we are doing," Your boyfriend nods and smiles. And you know by the way he's looking at you that he's not taking no for an answer. You smile sweetly at him. Afterwards, you notice his eyes dart around the room, "Come on, where's your case?"

"Didn't bring a case." You shake your head, just patting the tote that's on your shoulder. "Didn't think there'd be much point when we haven't seen each other in over a week."

A cheeky knowing smirk tugs at your lips as you whisper, "Pyjamas wouldn't be needed, would they?" Matty's eyes darken a little at that, looking at you like he could devour you at any given second now. But he just lets his arm slip around your waist, "Oh, I'm going to be such a bad friend."

"What?" You frown, asking curiously, "Why?" Before Matty can respond, the room gets loud again as everyone starts moving into the hallway. Shouts about an afterparty in a different hotel are mentioned, everyone shouting who's coming and who's driving with who takes your attention as you turn to face the door again.

But Matty wraps his arms around your waist from behind you, pulling you back into his chest. Your heart thuds at the feeling but what makes it skip a beat is when you feel his smirk against your ear as he whispers, "I'm going to shag you on the plane."

~*~*~*~ Oscars Day ~*~*~*~

You had gone to a big hotel suite to get ready for the Oscars Vanity Fair After Party with Amelia, watching the red carpet as you got your makeup and hair done. It felt so odd to be pampered while feeling so incredibly nervous inside, because the drag of the straightener along your hair kept making your eyelids flutter shut, but your stomach kept doing somersaults and making you nauseous.

It kept making you nostalgic to look to your side and see Amelia getting ready next to you, sipping a Diet Coke as you both watched the red carpet like you have been doing together for years. This time though you're both being glammed up as you do so, about to meet those in attendance, this time just on the other carpet, maybe next year you'll be lucky enough to do the preshow one.

Thankfully you did sleep on the plane back to LA, so your make up artist didn't tell you off for bags under your eyes. And considering you spent the night and day beside Matty, you felt so well rested and happy that up until getting here you weren't too nervous. But now the clock is counting down and the anxiousness has crept back in.

It takes the two hours of the red carpet and a little into the ceremony for you and Amelia to be fully ready and prepared for the night. Once you're ready to be taken over to the Vanity Fair carpet, you have just under half an hour going around the massive hotel suite to take loads of pictures while you listen to the important stuff happening in the background in case any new questions could be asked to your guests on the carpet.

When you step out of the suite, the door closing behind you kick-starts a new round of nerves, making you grab your best friend's hand tightly. Amelia looks at you and you screech in unison as you head to the lifts. You have no idea how you're gonna keep from shaking like a wet dog on the actual carpet, but you hope that you manage to settle in time.

When the lift doors open at the lobby, you realise you had completely forgotten about a certain someone waiting for you there. Matty's eyes are gleaming when they catch you walking his way. He can't help but think that you look so fucking unreal, and his hand comes over his chest as if clutching it would stop it from beating erratically.

Your boyfriend briefly allows himself to look at Amelia, seeing that she's looking lovely in a sleek black dress with a curved neckline trailing up her shoulder to cover one of her arms. But regardless of your best friend's beauty, Matty is absolutely spellbound by yours.

You're walking towards him in a sparkly rouge v-neck dress which accentuates all of your stunning features. The neckline shows off your boobs in the most drool worthy way, it takes effort for Matty's eyes not to linger for too long. Not to mention the way you just look like a Disney princess, looking as gorgeous as ever, it's almost otherworldly. Even your skin has a sparkle to it.

"Oh my..." You hear him mutter as you finally reach him, but his arm snakes around your waist and pulls you in to kiss you. "Lipstick!" You manage to mumble against his lips, and when he pulls back, you laugh as you wipe the remnants of mauve off his lips.

Matty doesn't let go of you, nor stop giving you compliments the whole way to the venue. He's clutching you so tightly, you're blushing the entire time. Amelia keeps giggling and pointing out how down bad he is for you, to which he always proudly replies, "Fuck yes, I am."

When you get to the venue it's not long before showtime, so you leave the little backstage dressing room Vanity Fair gave you fairly quickly, but it feels almost painful to leave Matty behind. Before leaving though, you give your boyfriend a kiss (which you had been refusing all the way there for the sake of your lipstick), and he promises he will be all dressed up and ready for you by the time you're back.

You're a little jealous he can stay in his comfies for a bit longer than you, but the show must go on. So with lots of words of encouragement, Matty bids both you and your best friend good luck and goodbye before you head over to the corner of the iconic carpet Vanity Fair has set up for you.

You're so nervous seeing all the new faces walk past and up to you, but it's also just so much fun seeing familiar faces like Pedro Pascal and Sabrina Carpenter. There is a bit of pressure on you and your best friend since these interviews are happening on a TikTok live, but having her doing it with you makes it so much easier. You are just bouncing off each other, asking random and funny questions to throw your guests off and get good comedic moments.

Your faces light up when you and Amelia stop your chat once you see Paul Mescal from afar bowing to the two of you. You wave him over eagerly and he excuses his way over to you, grabbing the mic off a staff member helping your production, and stopping right in front of you.

Amelia chuckles, immediately pointing out Paul's actions, "I saw you bowing to us."

"From up there," Paul snorts at himself. You put on your best smirk and act smug as you reply, "Yeah, and we thought: thank you."

"You're welcome." Says the gorgeous man. He certainly looks the part of the heartthrob tonight. The black trousers with the white blazer and red flower pinned to his lapel. Since the ceremony has finished though he's swapped the shirt and bow tie for a white vest, making for a more casual look, but still very dashing.

Amelia bows to him as she says, "My king." You laugh to yourself and follow Amelia's bow, and just about you're standing back straight, Paul reciprocates with another bow, "My queens." You truly don't know how the both of you fight that flustered blush from your faces. Yeah, you may be taken, but you're only human.

"So what mood are you in? Are you in a party mood?" Amelia asks Paul, going straight back into interviewer mode. Paul thinks about his answer for a second, "I'm in a... Yeah, I think I'm in a party mood."

Amelia quirks, "Yeah?" And you follow with a silly question that you thought would be interesting for tonight, "Have you ever danced on a table?" Paul shakes his head but firmly states, "I'm gonna do that tonight." You and your best friend approve in unison, "Yeah!"

"I'm gonna dance on a table tonight."

Amelia is satisfied with Paul's decision so she continues onto another question, "Have you ever been-" But Paul cuts her inquiry short to put forward one of his own, "Are there any tables in there?"

You shrug and honestly say, "Dunno, we've never been." Your bluntness makes you all snort at the same time, enjoying your novelty in these types of events all together.

Amelia waves it off, like she's got the situation under control and swiftly says, "We'll get a table for you." Mimicking talking to someone on some earbud intercom, you say, "Excuse me, can we please get a table for Paul Mescal to dance on?"

Paul finds himself amused at you two, playing onto your joke with a cheeky grin, "Quick. Pronto." You click your tongue, "We've got you covered, Paul."

"You're here with your whole family right?" Amelia inquires after you saw his little sister Nell going in earlier. Paul nods, turning to look ahead at the carpet, "Yeah, I sent them in. They're in at the party and I'm waiting for-"

Amelia cuts in, playing into his presence with you rather than with his family, "And you had to come chat to us, obviously." He plays into it naturally, and it makes you smile, "I was like, I've got to do something really important. I've gotta chat to Amelia and Y/N."

You hum as you nod, "Yeah, it's really, really important." Amelia genuinely replies with, "We actually love chatting to you every time." And you love seeing Paul brighten up and reciprocate, "I love chatting to yous!"

"It's great," You grin.

Amelia, with her sudden changes of conversation as per usual, asks, "Do you identify as a heartthrob?"

"Do I?" Paul chuckles at the complete turn of direction in the chat, "Ermmmm... No, I don't identify as a heartthrob." You gasp, "You don't?" Amelia states quickly, "Well, we think you are."

"That's very nice of you to say," Paul replies rather shyly. And just for his sake, knowing that it will send him back into his shell if you two keep poking on his heartthrob states, Amelia goes, "Anyway, you've gotta go."

You have to bite your tongue not to burst out laughing. Even more so when Paul laughs but nods in agreement, "I've gotta go." You add to the joke, "You've reeeally gotta go."

"You're cool," Paul says wholeheartedly. You and your best friend quickly say the same back to him, because you truly believe it and he's one of your favourites, "You're cool."

Paul bids you farewell, "See ya!"

"Bye!" You wave with a big smile. Amelia quips before the Irish lad can leave, "I'll see you on the dancefloor."

"See you on the dancefloor," Paul says, and goes back to your early joke by adding, "On a table." You laugh, nodding in confirmation, "On a table, yup."

It's hard to wipe the smile that breaks on your face after that chat. Paul is one of the people you adore and you're so grateful to have met through your work, you love the friendship he has with you and Amelia, and it is a plus that he is such great friends with your boyfriend.

The thought of Matty makes you smile harder, becoming internally giddy at the prospect of finishing this interview section and finally getting to enjoy such a monumental night with the man that keeps your heart beating out of your chest.

Matty has been watching the interview on TikTok with a grin on his face and pride swelling his chest in the little backstage room you had been getting ready in earlier. Your boyfriend had been enjoying every bit of the interviews and laughing to himself like a fool, swooning over how beautiful you look, how much he loves seeing you smile and laugh, and just so incredibly ecstatic that you have gotten to this place in your career. He believes you deserve the entire universe, and he is so glad that you and Amelia are both getting the recognition you have always deserved.

Your boyfriend can see how happy you are at the moment, but it is perhaps just how bright your smile is that gives the next person to walk up to you the courage to be so upfront, and it makes Matty grow irate in a matter of seconds.

"Oh camera!" You point out in a gasp when an actor in a dark grey suit walks up to you, taking a disposable film camera from his pocket and turning it on. Both of you recognise the actor immediately. He's not an A-lister by any means but you've seen him in a few films so you're excited to meet someone new to bounce off. But almost immediately you know exactly what sort of man this one will turn out to be.

You hear his low hum against the mic before he says, "Yeah, pose for me."

Amelia and you pose for the camera, giving your best smiles and the flash blinds you slightly so you faintly see the lad pocketing it before properly grabbing the mic again. A smirk grows on the lad's face as he points out, "Taking pictures of the best moments tonight."

You want to giggle, and can't miss the chance to tease, "Oh, so we're a highlight then?"

If he'd have just agreed with you and looked at your both genuinely as he said it, you may have found this interview very different. But instead, you absolutely don't miss the way that his eyes linger way too long on your breasts before his eyes finally reach yours. Accompanied by a wink which is aimed directly at you, he replies, "You definitely are, love."

From your dressing room, that look and comment earns Matty's first scoff of the night, and though he shouldn't, he hates the fact that you look a little flustered as you reply with a shy, "Oh, okay."

But what the camera isn't showing is that you're not flustered because this man is flirting with you. You're flustered because you feel uncomfortable being objectified so openly like that, and on camera too. Not to mention, you can keep spotting telltale signs that the actor in front of you is extremely drunk.

Before Amelia can come up with a way to save you, the lad (very stupidly if you were to ask Matty) questions, "What are yous doing?"

One of your brow quirks at the nature of the question, before you can properly think about it, you just repeat his question almost mockingly, "What are we doing?" Amelia almost instantly goes, "Interviewing you."

The actor nods, "Right." swaying slightly on his feet. You almost want to huff because he is giving you nothing, so you go ahead and fire him a bunch of questions hoping to wrap this interview soon, "So what are you doing in there? Where are you going? Dancefloor, crying in the bathroom...?"

But you're not counting on him continuing with his heavy flirting. He takes a step towards you, grabbing your hand and squeezing it as he leans in a little to smoulder at you, "I'm going wherever you're going."

Whiskey. Whiskey is what this man in front of you has been drinking, and you know because it's all you can smell on his breath. It takes an extraordinary amount of effort not to gag in front of him or live on the show. You try to turn him down without being so obvious, while also trying to keep up with your usual awkwardly flirty persona. You squeeze his hand before gently slipping it free so you can ask, wide eyed, "Oh, so you're dancing?"

The man's eyes wonder to your chest again and you feel a little ill as you can't help the sensation of being vulnerable. Almost like you can't stop this from happening without seeming like an absolute cow in front of millions online. The last thing you want to cause is a scene, especially at an event like this. "If you save me a few dances, I will definitely join you," The smirk that tugs further on the corners of his lips makes you squirm in your place.

You should be glad to have not been a witness to Matty's second scoff of the night which was followed by an eye roll, and a hissed, "Silly prick."

You dismiss the actor gently and subtly again, "We'll see how the dancefloor looks when we go in." But he doesn't relent in the slightest, "Oh I bet you look good on the dancefloor."

It makes you chuckle sarcastically, and you're so glad you can roll your eyes at his antics this time, "Nice pun, Turner."

Elbowing you softly, Amelia reminds you to try to be merry and flirt, so to your boyfriend's and your own dismay, you smirk as you flick your hair and quip back, "I do actually look good on the dancefloor." You swear the actor's voice drops an octave when he says, "Can't wait to see that up close." and you don't miss the way his eyes fall to your body again and lingers before meeting your eyes again.

Hating that you're on a livestream and can't give Amelia a 'help me' glance is killing you, so you very awkwardly turn to your best friend and fully avoid the lad getting any ideas in his head by changing your own plans, "Think we're just gonna have some burgers actually."

"No dancing?" The actor tries again, smirk just glued to his face. Matty is fuming, wanting nothing more than to reach into the screen and slap that smirk off the guys face. He really isn't enjoying the fact that he won't stop staring at you, nor flirting with you. Not only that, but he also thinks the lad is a massive dickhead for fully ignoring Amelia next to you.

You shrug, languidly making eye contact again, "Depends who asks." He puffs his chest out as he says, "I'm asking."

Matty clutches his phone in a white knuckle grip.

Amelia quips into the conversation for what feels like the first time, "Which one of us are you asking?" But the actor doesn't even spare her a word, just intensely staring at you with fuck-me eyes that threaten to give you a bad case of the shivers.

Amelia shifts uncomfortably in her place, chuckling awkwardly before stating, "This might get a bit messy," knowing that your boyfriend is watching. Your very jealous and angry boyfriend who is very much tempted on going out to the carpet and decking the pretentious prick.

That need to break the actor's nose just peaks when he replies, "Hopefully."

You're at a loss for words, your mouth opening in shock. Amelia can only mutter a choked, "That's-" which gets lost in the wind for she has no clue what to actually say.

Luckily, the lad starts laughing loudly at your reactions, breaking the sudden awkward tension created and urging you to laugh with him just to leave the interview on a good spirited note. Amelia clears her throat and implicitly tells the lad it's time for him to go, "We saw some of your mates get in already, so we won't steal you any longer."

He gets the hint, but not with joy. His smirk falters and his shoulders fall, "Ah bummer." You give him the fakest smile as you say, "We'll see you inside." But it almost crumbles when he winks again and replies, "I'm really hoping you will."

Amelia tries to lighten the mood by joking about your plans, "Burger in hand." However, the actor is damn stubborn and continues to try and plan something with you, "We could have some burgers together, yeah." You stay quiet, letting Amelia take this one just so he knows that you're not even jokingly considering it, "Ooo, a picnic!"

When he looks at Amelia instead of you, your shoulders sag slightly in relief. Matty is seeing red though, he cannot fucking stand to see the lad's face any longer and even the harmless, "Sure, why not?" that he replies with, has the singer rolling his eyes and clenching his fists.

Amelia bids him farewell, "It was nice seeing you!"

"Likewise," he nods and waves as he returns the mic.

You smile big and bright, feeling finally free of your torment, "See ya'!"

And your boyfriend also feels relief starting to flood his system when the lad seems to turn away from you, but his anger is piqued yet again when the actor doesn't miss the chance of the goodbye to walk up far too close to you, hugging you by the waist and leaving a kiss on your cheek. Matty doesn't even note the fact that he does the same to say goodbye to Amelia, he's just furiously replaying in his head the way that his arms wrapped around you too easily and he was too slow and deliberate when planting his lips on the soft skin of your face.

What bothers him even more is the way you and Amelia giggle together once the lad is gone, as if you had enjoyed that. He doesn't want to keep on watching the livestream, and he has to remind himself that this is your job, but it doesn't make it any better.

It's ironic how that interview has made him feel just the exact way you're about to feel when you see who is about to walk into your little corner by the carpet. Dressed to the teeth in black, the woman in a high necked dress and wet look pixie cut steps in front of you.

"Halsey!" Amelia greets the singer all excitedly while you stand beside her trying your absolute best to put on your biggest smile and gather as much content as you can to appear as eager as your best friend.

But it is hard for you to formulate anything in your head that will allow you to make the interview good so you allow Amelia to take over for a little, that is until the woman unfortunately brings up the topic of dating. Halsey laughs a little as she looks between you both and says, "You've dated so many of my exes."

You hum, internally cringing but keeping a smile on your face. Thankfully, Amelia takes that one and says, "That is true. Wait, how many?"

"Erm..." Halsey trails off, cringing outwardly a little but making it playful by smiling, all while you feel like you've done something wrong. And you would hardly say two is 'so many'. You've only been on a chicken shop date with Matty and Yungblud.

Amelia realises her mistake and softly snorts, "Oh wait, okay, I know." To try not to seem too awkward about it, you chip in with a little joke that seems to also be the truth, "We all have the same type, love that."

"Yeah I know," Halsey widens her eyes to try and signify the awkwardness but at this point you can't quite tell if she's playing up to the fact the dates aren't real, or the fact that you're actually going out with Matty. The man she wrote many Tumblr blogs and poems about.

Amelia tries to lighten the situation by adding, "Damn, okay."

However, it is hard to keep it lighthearted when the singer says, "I'm sorry for you." The way she said it, and how she looked at you as she did made your stomach drop, so it is hard to reply with anything right away. It's harder to keep the smile on your face when she shows her true colours by saying shit like that as well.

"Yeah." Amelia says a little awkwardly at the same time as you go the other way and half laugh as you try to maintain your smile, "Oh, I'm quite alright."

"Maybe that's where we're going wrong somewhere on our chicken shop dates, me especially, is because we have the same type." Amelia keeps things jokey and playful as you try to get back into the swing of it after the shock the comment gave you.

"Imma give you some like real advice," she starts like she's about to give you two a TedTalk, "Yeah, that is where you're going wrong. Don't follow in my footsteps." She might see the way you can't hold your face from growing stoic and the quirk of your brows as if challenging her to continue.

You have quirky remarks ready to defend yourself, your previous dates, and especially your boyfriend. But thankfully the woman in front of you isn't as brave as she initially believed she was. The singer backtracks, "I'm just kidding, everyone is wonderful," but you're sure you can hear sarcasm as she sighs, "Everyone's amazing."

Amelia takes over for you yet again and jokingly attempts to make it obvious your dates are fake, "Everyone is wonderful, but like maybe we should change our type? Would you say maybe, not musicians?"

The singer, thankfully, takes her eyes off you to look up as she thinks, "Erm, well it depends what you're pivoting to because if you're pivoting to actors... also the same."

Remaining professional, you pitch back into the conversation with an easy smile as you chuckle, "Maybe just someone who's not going to be here tonight." She nods, looking between you both and saying, "You should find an accountant."

Amelia brightens up, "An accountant. You know what, that would also be a really useful thing."

"Yeah." The singer confirms. You hum, smiling but playing up to the joke as you say, "Maybe more useful than a lot of boyfriends."

The singer agrees again, "No, for sure," but backtracks again and tells you and your best friend, "No, you don't even need a boyfriend, you just need a therapist."

You can't help but snort, "Okay, cool." It's funny because if she's being a cow on purpose, this makes her look like such a petty bitch for saying this to you. If she's genuinely doesn't realise what she's saying though, it just makes her fucking stupid.

"A therapist," Halsey says again.

"Yeah. No, I could have another therapist," Amelia comments, "I have one at the moment, but I could double up." Halsey laughs at that one before joking along with you, "One to date, one to talk to." You cock your head in consideration, brows furrowing as you give her comment a thought, "Maybe yeah, maybe one to date."

She covers her face with one hand as she laughs softly at herself, "God, I'm giving terrible advice right now." You don't know how you refrain from raising your eyebrows and nodding in agreement. Instead you just mirror your best friend laughing.

Amelia is far too nice when replying, "No, you're giving the best advice."

"What kind of mood are you in tonight?" You bring the interview back to the default questions for the night, "Are you in the mood to party?" She considers the question and cocks her head before replying, "Yeah, I think so. This is kinda like a circus in the best way."

You nod because she is not wrong, "Okay." And Amelia agrees on it too, "Yeah." It feels like the tension has settled for a second, and it thankfully feels like this is the end of her interview. But, of course, you were too early in thanking superior forces for her leaving so fast because your heart drops as soon as she goes on to ask something you had long forgotten about.

"What word do I say wrong by the way?" Her challenging smirk is big on her face, the rise of her brows annoying you because it feels patronising. You immediately know what she's referring to but your brows furrow and you muster your best confused face as you quip, "Pardon?"

You swear you hear her scoff softly, giving you a roll of her eyes that most people would see as a joke but it just irritates you more, before adding, "On your date, you said that I say a word wrong? Lilac, was it?"

It sounds like she knows exactly which word she says wrong, so you hold back the urge to massively roll your eyes. Especially when she says it wrong again. So you nod, and emphasise the right way to pronounce the word as you confirm, "Yeah, lilac."

Then she goes again saying it weirdly, "Lilac," and you have to bite your tongue not to laugh. You take a shallow breath to calm yourself down since you feel like she's fully playing with you, before explaining, "No, it's one word, say it all together."

But she says it just the same again, "Lilac." You release a long sigh and try your best to appear as friendly and comedic as possible as you openly admit your lack of patience and her lack of ability in just saying the damn word correctly, "Yeah, no. This is not going to work."

Amelia diverts Halsey's attention from you to her as she lets out a hearty laugh, one that the singer very fakely joins into. You have to laugh along as well, before your best friend finally saves your arse and bids Halsey farewell, letting you feel just a bit of relief by having the girl out of your sight. But it would be a lie to say that the little awkward moment had not just ruined your night. It's a little pathetic of you to have let her rile you up so much, but from the shit she's written about your boyfriend in the past and now this passive aggressive interaction just set the tone.

It could've gone the other way entirely and you both laughed at the situation of your actually going out with someone she did. But no, you were met with silent animosity, sly digs, and looks that could kill. And to make matters worse, you're more than likely going to bump into her again inside, which pisses you off further. It makes you seriously debate just going back to the hotel with Matty and falling asleep in his arms. But you will absolutely not let that snake win.

Thankfully, the last few interviews manage to lift your spirits, Sam Claflin being the last person to step into your little corner. And the absolute gem of a man has you gigging instantly.

"British!" Sam exclaims when hearing you and Amelia say hello to him and welcoming him into the carpet. You and Amelia laugh and repeat with the same enthusiasm, "British!"

Sam lets out a sigh of relief at the familiarity of the accent, "That's so nice!" Amelia chuckles and jokes, "When British people see each other, that's what they do, they go: British!"

You and the man in the classic tuxedo say at the same time, "British!" And the three of you continue with your chorus of "British," until the word starts feeling odd when rolling off your tongue.

You point it out with a funny look on your face, "Alright, that's starting to sound like an odd word now." After a little laugh and Sam agreeing, Amelia points out, "We've seen a lot of your castmates."

Sam raises his brows, and looks around a little before saying, "See, I haven't seen them yet! And this is what I'm excited about." Amelia nods and continues with her line of questioning, "Yeah, we've actually seen them. So will you all be on the dancefloor together, do you think tonight?"

But Sam shocks you with his answer, "I'm not much of a dancer." It's a little hard for you to believe that he wouldn't be good at dancing. This man in front of you is so talented in so many ways, you're willing to bet money he's actually a great dancer. "Are you not?!" You say instinctively with a shocked expression on your face.

Sam looks devastated to bring the horrible news, "I can't say that I am."

Amelia follows up with a sad, "Are you kidding?!" The actor shakes his head, "No. Yeah, ermm..." Amelia does bring back what you had seen when he was approaching you, "When you came over, just now, I thought you're definitely a dancer!"

"Oh, I did dance over!" Sam chuckles, nodding a bit. "Yeah!" You say enthusiastically. But he adds, "No. I uh, I definitely have the posture of a ballerina. But no, it's not for me." Amelia snorts, "A posture of a ballerina. I love that."

To change the topic, you ask, "Are you fan of a burger? There's In-N-Out burgers."

"I do love a burger." Sam nods and his face lights up when he asks, "There's In-N-Out burgers?" You just get the excitement on his face and eagerly nod, "Yes!"

Sam delivers yet more sad news to the audience when he confesses, "See, okay, I've only had In-N-Out once in my life." But this time, you get it because you could probably count the times you've had In-N-Out with one hand, "Oh yeah, because we're British."

Sam almost pouts as he says, "We don't have it." The faint sadness shows in Amelia's voice as she adds, "That's true, we can't really have it."

It is absolutely hilarious when Sam turns to the camera and points at it as he says, "So, if you're watching In-N-Out, bring it over, over the pond." You look at the camera and point as well as you emphasise, "Over the pond."

Sam hums and continues, "And introduce us, properly." Amelia nods like a child at the camera and mumbles, "Yes, please."

It's hard not to laugh when you turn to Sam and hide your sarcasm to ask, "Cos you've just been having, what? You've just been having Sunday roasts?" Sam chuckles at the question and nods, "Sunday roast."

Amelia says, "Fish and chips." The tone that the both of you use makes Sam laugh again, "Yeah. Oh, fish and chips."

Because it's your brand, you can't help but mention, "We've been having loads of nuggets." Sam hums, completely lost at the random mention of chicken nuggets, "Those are good too."

Amelia seems elated at his agreement and is chipper as she continues, "Right? Can never go wrong with some nuggets." Bless him, he must think you're not eating well if that has been the main course of your diet as of late, but you let him go with a big smile and an eager, "Well, thank you Sam!"

Amelia smiles brightly, "It's been a pleasure." He offers you a sweet smile and says, "Thank you to you both." You give him a tiny wave as he goes to hand back the mic, "Have a great time!"

While Amelia says, "Bye bye!" into her microphone. Hilariously, before he leaves, he salutes you as he says, "British!"

And you and Amelia cannot hold back from saluting him back as the both of you say "British!" Sam laughs as he walks away, heading to the photo section of the red carpet, leaving you and Amelia to finally wrap up the TikTok live.

"On that patriotic note, we're gonna say goodnight to you all," You start the closing dialogue of your interview section.

Amelia finishes your sentence with, "And go get ourselves some In-N-Out burgers!" Playing into your brand, once again, you quip, "You think they'd have chicken nuggets?" Amelia hums, considering that to be better than burgers, "Cross your fingers."

Turning back to look at the camera, you bid all your viewers goodnight, "Alright, thank you for watching guys!"

"This has been Amelia," Your best friend starts saying. You grin, "And Y/N, at the Vanity Fair Oscars After Party Red Carpet!" In unison, you say, "Bye!"

And just like that, the live is ended by the staff behind the cameras and you have officially survived your Oscars weekend.

This should make you so incredibly happy, ecstatic to have accomplished such a thing, and have been able to pull it off like you did, but your brain is cruel and all that flashes back to the forefront of your mind is Halsey's interview. You try to shoo away the way it made you feel, her voice echoing in your head when she said, "I'm sorry for you". It just makes you want to crawl out of your skin to remember her tone, and her expression when saying that. Who the fuck is she to comment on your relationship like that?

It's really hard to focus on anything else while you're getting your mic packs taken off your gowns as the crew picks everything up before leaving. When you get the greenlight to go though, you remember your favourite curly headed lad waiting for you backstage, and that's when a smile comes back to your face. You cringe at yourself internally when you feel like you're following the light as you basically power walk your way back to Matty. Amelia cackles behind you when you loudly wince at your aching feet trying to keep up with your need to get to the backstage room yesterday at this point.

But feet pain be damned, you can barely even feel it when your boyfriend opens the door just as you're turning the last corner. And seeing him is just the thing you needed to calm you down. You can't help but grin as you look at him. He's changed into his black tuxedo, and has a crimson shirt underneath that matches the colour of your dress to a tee. He's got a few buttons undone and showing his chest tattoo, and the chain that falls over it adds to the whole look, so you don't know how to react. He looks so good with those curls bouncing freely on his head and you adore that he has a matching smile on his face as you all but run to each other.

"I'm so proud of you," Matty whispers in your ear after he catches you in his arms. You feel yourself melt into the embrace. He feels like home and it's such an overwhelming sense of relief that you feel like you could cry. Your voice sounds croaky when you softly reply, "Thank you baby."

He pulls back, pecking your lips quickly before analysing your face. He can see your eyes gleaming, slightly teary but that could just be the excitement of the moment, or even anxiety, so he makes sure to ask, "You good?"

Like a magnet, your lips are on his again, this time more of a proper kiss. One that says those three words you're holding in tightly to yourself. He hums tasting your mouth again, and it all feels so right. You pull back, give him the brightest smile, contagious as he mirrors it, and confirm, "I'm good."

Amelia's heels clicking closer make your turn slightly in Matty's arms, but it's her groaning at your displays of affection that makes both of you laugh. "Okay, you vile pair-" Amelia clicks her fingers at you both before she ushers you along, "Let's go party and get a burger before they run out of them!"

Matty snorts at her, "Burger first?" Knowing Amelia, he says that more as a statement rather than a question.

Yet, Amelia surprises him when she sighs, "No, let's head to the bar. I need some shots first."

Matty's eyes widen and you cackle at your best friend. Not entirely against her wishes. So the three of you waste no time gathering your belongings, sending the stuff you won't need back to your hotel, and heading inside to the big party.

The one thing you can think of when you step into the place is how Halsey was right saying this was a circus. You have to really put effort in keeping your jaw in place, because the amount of famous people you see walking around you so carelessly is insane.

You have to scorn yourself for still thinking about that conversation with Halsey, letting her words ruin such a monumental day in your career. But it proves quite hard when everything she said felt like a dig at you and your relationship. However, you do your very best to push the memory aside, focusing on enjoying this very moment with your best friend and your boyfriend.

When you come back to Earth, you see Amelia have the same look of disbelief on her face. Letting go of Matty's hand for a second, you hug your best friend tightly and squeal in her ear. A singular second of fangirling before you try and act cool so you don't blow your cover of 'fake it 'til you make it'.

Heading straight to the bar is a good way to fight that imposter syndrome. A shot of tequila helps you settle down a little, and sipping a fun cocktail on your way to your table rids you of your nerves. The three of you bump into Paul again, and you're all enthralled in amazing conversation for a while. People coming in to join you, and therefore meeting celebrities you had never thought you'd meet. It feels so surreal but you make sure to enjoy every bit of it.

That is until you volunteer to get the next round of drinks for you and Amelia. Matty had bumped into Kate Berlant, and after introducing you to her, you left him to chat with her while you went up to the bar.

In your giddy state, thanks to the alcohol making you feel warm and fuzzy inside, you miss the fact that a certain someone catches you making your way over to the bar. His voice alone startles you, the way he lowers his tone an octave when flirting with you. "Fancy seeing you again, gorgeous."

The icky actor who heavily flirted with you on the carpet is a few steps from you, and you're half sure he sees the subtle uncomfortable cringe you let yourself have. It's impossible for you not to look slightly horrified at the fact that he's back in your presence. You truly felt earlier like you were being preyed upon by a drunken fool. And if that's not enough, the awkward and cold tone in your voice should help. "Oh, hi." You turn away, hoping all the signs make up the clear message in his head.

Apparently, everything flies over his head. He swiftly takes a big step so he ends in front of you again. Massive smirk on his face as he continues his flirting, "Was hoping to see you in here."

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself to be professional. After all, he could be a Chicken Shop Date, and that has never harmed anyone. "Yeah? Thank you so much for coming over to chat to us before." You smile, trying to be genuine with the encounter, because content is content at the end of the day. "It makes it so much easier for us when people are chatty."

It's an attempt to sound friendly, but the step you take back so you're at a distance from him, added to the fact that you hide your hands behind your back should give off the vibe that you don't want him close.

However, Mr. Can't Read Social Cues does not catch that either. He leans in as he comes closer to you, "Well, I saw you in that dress and couldn't stay away." He makes the effort to grab one of your forearms to take your hand and kiss the back of it with a smile on his lips, "You look like a million dollars."

Mentally, you scold yourself because you feel your cheeks burning. More so from annoyance that he is not getting your offstandish ways. You pull your hand back as calmly as you can. You would hate for anyone to see this entire interaction and take it the wrong way, awkwardly you smile at him trying to appear as if you're flattered. Truthfully though, all you can smell is the alcohol on his breath and you feel your skin crawl.

Clasping your hands behind your back again, you smile softly as you accept the compliment, "I certainly feel like it, thank you." He smiles endearingly at you, and you cringe internally when you realise he might be taking this as you being shy. And from the way his eyes keep looking you up and down you know he's not going to give up.

And your point is proven because it becomes so much more obvious that he just doesn't understand a woman's demeanour when he goes even further with his flirting, "I'd certainly pay that much for your company. You'd be worth every penny."

You scoff in disbelief, but mask it with a giggle when he raises a brow at your reaction. Never in a million years would you want this guy to spend a penny on you, so you jokingly say, "Well lucky for you I'm free."

The way his face lights up at your comment makes your heart drop to your arse. "You're free?" He asks with a hint of hopefulness behind his lustry yet drunk voice, "If you are, I'd love to take you out sometime?"

Shit. Fuck. Idiot. You laugh over-exaggeratedly, trying to make it seem like it was a joke, "Oh I'm sorry, I just meant I'm free to chat now."

Relentless might be this guy's second name though, or so it seems, because he continues to list all the things he is willing to do for you. "I would though," His eyes never leave you, and the way his gaze runs down your figure makes you squirm in your place. It's almost like he's eating you up with his eyes as he declares, "Absolutely love to take you out, pamper you, not to one of your chicken places though. I'm thinking fancy restaurants, treat you to something that'll truly satisfy you before we finish the night in the best way possible."

It's really hard not to roll your eyes at him, or push him away from you. You sigh as softly as you can, thinking about how awful it will be for the girls who might fall for his love-bombing ways in the future. Spare them please, whoever you are up there. Mustering your sweetest, kindest, smile, you start letting him down easy, "As lovely as that sounds I-"

But he is quick to interrupt, words drunkenly stumbling out his mouth, "If it's an issue because you're going back home soon, that doesn't have to be a problem. You're more than welcome to stay here in LA with me. I can show you around and take you to all the lovely restaurants and sights we have to offer... Equally if you really have to get back, I have residence over in England so maybe you could take me around London?"

Kindness be damned, you can't even hold a fake smile when you say, "Thank you for the kind offer but I have a boyfriend."

His face falls entirely, almost like the fact has sobered him up, "You have a boyfriend?"

"Yes," You say quickly, cold and cutting. But it seems like not even a boyfriend will stop his advances, because he very easily asks, "Is it serious?"

This time it's impossible to hold back from letting out a mocking laugh at him. Sarcastically, you reply, "I'd like to think so."

You would have paid hundreds for someone to have captured your face when he adds, "Does he really have to know?" Your jaw all but falls to the floor after hearing that. Bewildered is an understatement, and it takes you a few seconds to gather yourself and declare, "I'm not a cheater."

He sounds to be very well versed in the art of cheating and its loopholes when he suggests, "Is it really cheating if only us two know?"

You truly can't believe the words you're hearing. Never in your life did you think this talented actor would be a drunk idiot who prayed upon women. Appalled and disappointed don't quite cover it. "Yeah it is," You nod with no sympathy left in you. "As flattered as I am, I'm not interested. Thank you."

You make an attempt to go around him, and head for the other end of the bar, but he catches you before you can even take a third step. Your skin crawls at the feeling of his hand on yours again but looking back you hold your ground, not letting him intimidate you in the slightest. His face is riddled with confusion when he asks, "But the flirting?"

To anyone observing the encounter, the smile you give him might appear sweet, but to those who know you well would definitely see that you're being nothing but cynical. And you hope the lad catches it as you all but spell it out for him, "It's part of my job. I'm paid to do it. Please take the hint."

His cocky mouth opens again and you'd already prepared for another quip back at him, but thankfully a saviour appears. "Baby, do you need help carrying the drinks?" Hearing Matty's voice floods your system with relief, and you're quick to escape from the actor's grasp to wrap your arm around your boyfriend's side. It's amazing how just his presence alone calms you, but you're just glad you don't have to speak to the prick who's looking at you knowingly now.

Holding Matty's hand makes you relax all-together, and it can be heard in your voice when you nod at him, "Please, that'd be great."

He's awfully tense though. His jaw locked, brows furrowed, killing stare aimed at the drunk and stupid guy from the interviews. Matty can't help but menacingly ask, "Everything alright over here?"

"It was," The actor quickly replies. And you're relieved that this is all over far too soon, because he then puts on the most taunting smile and asks, "So this is the boyfriend?"

Matty clenches his hands, forgetting yours is holding him tightly. But before he can say anything that might end badly, you go ahead and factually say, "This is my boyfriend."

Your boyfriend who had been giggling and enjoying himself while chatting with some friends he had bumped into. That was until Kate mentioned something that Matty thought you would like. When he turned his gaze towards the bar to look for you, and saw this bloke chatting you up again, he excused himself and dashed your way. Every step he took was accompanied by the memory of everything he had said to you during your interviews. All the stupid one-liners that you had laughed at and not really turned down as evidently as Matty would have liked.

It's her job, he'd had to remind himself. But you weren't on camera anymore, not on the clock, not your job to entertain him anymore. And by the looks of it, something must have happened. When he was walking toward you, he saw you smiling but it was like you were gritting your teeth to even be able to manage the facial expression. Something had happened, and clearly you've handled it well, so Matty is simultaneously biting his tongue and holding himself back from making a scene, just as you are. Though he's sure you were getting your point across, it seems the drunk fool in front of the both of you clearly isn't quite taking the hint. Matty's hopeful that his presence now diffuses the situation.

A certain line he said comes back to your boyfriend, and Matty can't go without ill-willingly letting the lad know he is the one you're with, "She does look incredible on the dancefloor, by the way. Enjoy your evening."

You would have laughed if it wasn't for the fact that the comment only causes the man to smirk widely, winking at you before saying one last thing before he goes, "Think about it."

The lad walks away with a swagger that makes you scoff and roll your eyes. But those words only make Matty frown and question their meaning, "Think about what?"

"Nothing," You brush away with a shrug. But before you can turn back around towards the bar, Matty comes closer to you and inquires again, "What did knobhead want?"

You sigh, already tired of dealing with the lad and the consequences of his drunken words, "A date."

Matty's brows furrow even more. "At a chicken shop?" He has no say when it comes to who you date for work or not. But he will definitely voice his annoyance before you think of bringing him on the show. For all he cares, Amelia can take that date.

But Matty sees red when you confirm, "No, an actual one." Everything the actor said was so stupid to you, so it's not a big deal for you to share the absurd idea the prick had when you said you were taken. You raise your eyebrows as you tell him, "And for me to cheat apparently."

The dead look Matty gives you then screams, are you fucking serious? And when you press your lips together, you silently answer with a look of confirmation. "Oh, absolutely not." That is the last nail in the coffin for Matty. His head snaps to the direction the actor walked off in as he says under his breath, "I'm gonna deck the little cunt."

He goes on his tiptoes, looking through the crowd for him but before he can make any move, you keep him in his spot. You grab his forearm before he can even take a step and you stand directly in front of him, your grip tightening ever so slightly. His gaze falls on you and you sternly say, "Don't. He's gone now, that's all I wanted." You're so over the whole thing, and you don't want to let the prick ruin such a special night for you.

"He's got some nerve," Matty hisses through his teeth, still looking through the crowded room for the silly cunt. You don't think you've ever seen Matty so enraged. Not in person anyway, but this is much different to the videos where he's speaking passionately about something he believes in. You can practically see his anger seeping through his pores.

And while you agree, you want the whole thing dropped, "Please leave it. It's finished. It's fine, he's just a bit too drunk and clearly doesn't know what he's saying."

"It's not fine, not at all," Your boyfriend says back. You can see his rage through his eyes, pupils blown, and trying to find his target. He scoffs when he can't find the awful head of hair the lad sports in between the sea of people in the place. "Asking you to cheat? Really? Fucking dickhead."

You sigh, dropping your head to take a few seconds because you know that Matty's got every right to be upset about it. But you just want it over with. You don't want to think about that creep anymore, so you take a few seconds to acknowledge your emotions and let them pass. It takes a few seconds, and you can feel Matty's gaze on you but after a minute, you feel so much lighter.

When you pick up your head, you say, "Let's just get our drinks, yeah? I don't want this to ruin what this is for us." The fury in those brown eyes you love so much thankfully flickers out into nothing. And you relax a little more when your boyfriend manages to slip his hand into yours. And with the way that Matty leans in to kiss your cheek before you're off to actually get the drinks, you're thankful that he's complying with your wishes. Yet, the hard stare he gives the bartender when he smiles at you before taking your order tells you an entirely different story.

Possessiveness isn't something you've noticed from him in the past. But you can understand it just after a situation like this and there's a part of you that appreciates the way he's so willing to defend you. But you'd much prefer for him to just be at your side while you ignore advances from people like that. Not that you get many of those advances anyway, thank god.

You notice Matty's still a bit tense even when you get back to your table. It's hard to get a genuine chuckle out of him as he chats to the people who have been catching up with Amelia. And you can't miss the way he so overtly glancing around the room, not even being discreet with the way he's on the lookout for the damn actor. But there's only so much of that you can take, so you make a show of dragging him to the dancefloor with Amelia.

Luckily, your curly haired brunette can't avoid the hold you have on him for long. His hands are on your hips before he can even think about it, and his lips are looking for yours as you move to the rhythm of the catchy songs the DJ is playing.

Having a boyfriend that loves dancing around on stage and a best friend that enjoys making TikTok dances is a god send at this moment. Because you've never found yourself laughing so much as you watch the silly dances they both challenge each other with. And hearing that adorably quirky cackle that's so unique to Matty, when Amelia busts out a few wild moves, is music to your ears.

Relief floods you, and letting go as you're celebrating such a big night with two of your favourite people ever is so easy. You're only human though, and you grow thirsty after putting off your bodily functions for a good half hour.

Matty volunteers to go to the bar for another round, and you're so grateful for the quick break from the attack your heels have on your feet. Amelia and you are giggling and chatting in loud whispers to each other's ear while you wait for your drinks, but she leaves you in a rush when she spots someone she knows around the edges of the dancefloor.

You watch as she runs towards the girl and how they light up at the sight of each other before hugging tightly. The whole scene makes you sort of nostalgic for a memory in the making, and you just need to take it all in for a second. Your gaze goes around the entire room, taking in every detail and committing it to your memory. You can't help but feel so overwhelmingly lucky. Being at one of these events even a few years ago was a fever dream, and now that it's your reality and you were actually paid to attend is something you'll forever be grateful for. And then your eyes land on the person who makes you feel complete and your heart melts all over again.

On his way back to the table, Matty locks eyes with your dreamy stare, and you just spring up from your seat at the sight of him. He can't help but notice the tears threatening to spill on your waterline as he gets closer though, and he becomes a little worried. He's carrying three drinks and you rush to help him with them. Not because you want to take a sip of your fun little cocktail, but because you need to kiss him and feel his arms around you desperately.

"Everything okay?" He asks, concern evident in his tone.

You nod and peck his lips before grabbing your and Amelia's drink, quickly making the short way back to your table and setting them there for the time being. Turning on your heels, you see Matty set his glass right beside yours, but he's so conveniently close, your hand cups his jaw and you trap him in a loving kiss.

He hums against your lips, an arm wrapping around your waist while he rests on arm at the edge of the table. His worry dissipates quickly, and he can guess you just got in your head a little and you let yourself have a moment to take in everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. Matty only hopes that you're as proud of yourself as he is of you.

Giggles come from you when he leans forward, threatening to tumble you backwards and onto the table. You feel his smirk on your lips, but neither of you dare break the kiss. It's too perfect to stop yourself, you adore the feeling of the butterflies in your stomach as you kiss the man you love.

Matty knows you're not one for PDA, so this is a surprise to him, and he would be crazy to even think of cutting the moment short. Your mouths move together so naturally, second nature to show all the emotions inside you that you haven't said in words just yet. But you're so close to letting them out. His tongue teases the three words that hang on the tip of yours as he deepens the kiss. It's impossible for you not to break the kiss as you throw your head back in a cackle when his hand comes down from your waist to grab a handful of your arse. Even that's a step too far for you though, so you gently move his hand back to your lower back.

You're about to tease him for his actions, but he gets in there before you, so he can say, "I'm so proud of you, baby."

Your chest swells at the words, tears welling up in your eyes again when hearing the sweet conviction in his voice. There's nothing you love more than getting lost in those gorgeous brown eyes of his, and you can see just how earnest his statement is because you can feel the love he has for you radiating from him. But you don't get a chance to reply when you feel a hand resting gently on your upper arm, drawing your attention away from your lovely boyfriend.

Out of everyone you could expect to ruin such a moment, the last you expected was the person who stands right in front of you right now.

"Hey, there's no cameras in here, you know?" Halsey says, the condescending tone seeping from her lips as she continues, poison lacing her words, "You don't need to do this."

You have no idea what else to say other than, "Pardon?" as you and your boyfriend detangle from each other, which makes the intrusion all the more bitter.

But the singer fully ignores you, her gaze now falling on your boyfriend, who she gives a bright smile and greets with a nod and a soft, "Matty."

Standing up straight, but bringing you with him as he still clutches your waist, Matty smiles back at her to make this a friendly situation, "Ashley, how've you been?"

"Okay, thank you." She smiles at him, "Saw your show in LA. Your tour seems to be going well."

"Yeah," Matty nods, "I'm certainly enjoying it, thank you."

And while this exchange is very pleasant for distant exes, you can't help yourself. You have to know what she meant when she first came over and interrupted you, "I'm sorry, what don't I need to do?"

The woman with the wet look pixie cut finally looks at you again now. The harshness of her dark eye makeup makes her stare even more jarring when she finally responds with, "Be all over him-" She nods at Matty, "Because you went on a filmed date."

"There's a 'no camera policy' in here." She smiles patronisingly at you, as if she wants it to come across like she's doing you a favour when she informs you, "No one will report on what you're trying to do... So you can relax, and just enjoy the party."

Despite the shock of that coming from absolutely nowhere, all you can think is, wow, what a dumb fucking bitch. For a start, you don't know how she's missed the fact you and Matty are officially an item. It's not as if either of you have been hiding it, and from the way you've both been prayed on by the paparazzi over the last few months, you know that media companies in America have had you in articles over here.

Secondly, if you and Matty were faking a relationship just to get more coverage in the media, who the fuck is this bitch to tell you what not to do? Who the fuck is she to get involved in yours or Matty's business at all?

But before you say anything, you want to hear her admit to this being what she thinks is going on. You frown a little, feigning confusion, "And what am I trying to do?"

"Oh, you know. The dancing, the hugging, the kissing..." She looks between you and almost laughs when she sees Matty's arm still wrapped around your waist. "You might as well be attached to his hip."

As annoying as it is to have your relationship questioned in this way, you can't help but find this whole interaction rather amusing. An ex getting a little too involved in a new relationship is genuinely hilarious to you, especially when Matty has (in the past) already stressed just how much he and Halsey were never an official item.

Before your boyfriend picks his jaw up to correct the woman he used to sleep with, you beat him to it. And Matty can't help but take pride in the way you're so nonchalant and sarcastic about it. "Oh right," You nod before dryly saying. "I wasn't aware that I needed permission to have a drink with, or dance with, or kiss my boyfriend but I'll certainly endeavour to get authorisation next time." You turn towards him slightly, laying a hand over his shirt as you ask, "Matty, any issues?"

Even from just this small shared look between you, the humour is so clear in both of your eyes just how amusing you're finding this.

"None at all." Matty smiles at you.

The smirk that finds its way to your lips has your boyfriend biting his tongue to stop himself laughing. There's certainly a silent conversation happening between you, and it's along the lines of, I can't believe you used to date this woman - yeah it wasn't my best decision making - I can't believe the audacity she has - Yeah, tell me about it. Why do you think it didn't last?

"Wait," Halsey brings you back to reality and the both of you glance back to her, watching as she blinks slowly, and there's something so satisfying about seeing the moment realisation seeps in. "This is real?" The singer points between the two of you, dumbfoundedly asking, "You two are actually..."

Letting your voice have that noticeable gravel drawl, you nod slowly, patronisingly, "As real as a heart attack."

"Since when?" She frowns, shaking her head as if she still doesn't believe you.

It's a pathetic question regardless. Her having a date won't make her believe your romance any more than she already does. Matty has to hold back a scoff, unable to believe how entitled she feels to information that is none of her business. Especially not when she approaches the two of you with a ridiculous superiority complex, "Since I asked her to be my girlfriend and she said yes."

The bitch inside you wishes she could add, A question that you never heard.

Before you could even have the chance to though, Matty wraps the interaction up for the both of you, "Now if you'll excuse us Ashley, we've got things to be doing." Your boyfriend quickly reaches behind you and grabs the drinks again before you start walking off. "Wish I could say it's been great to see you, but alas."

You're somewhere between wanting to scoff or laugh as you take yours and Amelia's drinks from Matty, pinching both glasses between your fingers, so you can take Mattys other hand in your free one. Ultimately, you just end up shaking your head a little when you look at the curly haired brunette, finally getting to voice, "She's actually deluded."

"Yeah, well. Nothing that different from ten years ago." Matty sighs like he can't stand his past self for ever going there. And you're sure you'll talk about it more at some point tomorrow when you recap your day, but for now, you're happy when he gives your hand a squeeze and smiles at you, "Come on, I swear I just saw George."

You grin, looking around yourself for the lovely gentle giant who's in this room full of stars. And it doesn't take you long to find the man in question, and when you do, you see that he's already found your best friend too. George - dressed in a lovely light grey suit - and Amelia are in deep conversation when you get to them, but what you fail to notice until someone else moves out of your way is that there's another special guest with them.

This man is wearing a dashing burgundy suit with a black shirt underneath, his beard groomed to perfection, and his hair tied back in that man bun that screams 'pull me'. It's absolutely no wonder that you slip from Matty's grip to go and say hello to the man you're so very lucky to call your friend.

"Ross!" You smile brightly, wrapping your arms around the tall bassist. And you take every comfort in the big hug that he gives you, "I didn't know you were here!"

"Yeah well, these two were coming so I didn't wanna be left out." He explains, "And Hann was going back home, so I just got on the plane with George instead."

You chuckle a little, but then realise again where you are and just how prestigious this place is. He certainly couldn't just come in with George, he'd have to be on a list. So you ask a little confused, "But how'd you get into the after party?"

"Oh," Ross grins at you then, releasing you from your hug before he takes a step back and wraps his arm around Amelia, "Courtesy of your best friend. I'm her boyfriend for the evening."

"Oh," Your jaw falls slightly, as you glance between them, smiles on both their faces. You can't stop yourself from nodding, "Lucky."

"Lucky who?" Matty asks, taking his place by your side once more having already said hello to George.

You briefly hum in amusement, "Don't ask questions you don't wanna know the answers to." Unsurprisingly, Matty pinches you then as the others start laughing at you. But with a quick playful slap to his arm, you promise him, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

"I know you are." Your boyfriend nods, pulling you tightly into his side for a moment so he can kiss your cheek, and deciding to throw caution to the wind even more, you steal a proper kiss from him. PDA be damned.

After your kiss, you slip from Matty's grip once more to give Amelia her drink and to greet George properly. You adore the bear hug he gives you, and it's an effort to pull away from the warm embrace. "Where have you been the past few hours?" You ask him.

"Charli wanted to be fashionably late," He explains with a big smile, "And me and Ross wanted a back door entrance."

"You could have come through with us ages ago." You slap his arm a little. You all could have been having a good time together so much earlier if you knew this. Already knowing Charli will look amazing, you can't help but get excited to see her again as it's always an amazing night when you're out with her. You hope that she comes and finds you all soon.

"You two ladies-" The drummer nods to you and Amelia, "Attract too much attention and the last thing we need is more attention."

George adds with a smirk as he looks at Ross, "Especially after last night."

You frown at that, not quite understanding, "Last night?" You're so confused, as the only thing you know that happened last night was, "SNL?" Even when you glance at Matty for some insight, he looks just as confused as you. He's none the wiser, so you're happy as the drummer continues divulging more information.

"The afterparty..." George smirks, his eyes full of mischief when he informs you, "Where several women had to be escorted out because they were fighting over Ross."

Your jaw drops at first, imagining that scene and being slightly disappointed that you missed seeing that unfold. But the fomo dissipates, and a shit-eating grin cracks on your face as you turn to your boyfriend to say, "I told you they like Ross more than you! I told you!"

All your boyfriend has to say about it is, "Bullshit." Clearly not wanting to let go of the heartthrob-of-the-band title but you won't back down when it's a fact now.

"He is, and he has been for a while." You nod, and you even look to George for back up when you add, "I bet they were all over him."

"Swear on my life, Matty." George mimes a cross over his heart, and the biggest smile lights up your face. Being right about it is just fueling your ego on another level, and it's even better when his best friend adds, "Never seen anything like it before." George's smirk makes giggles bubble up your chest, and you let them out childishly when he clutches the bassist's shoulder and sets on stone, "Ross MacDonald the last last single stud of The 1975, ready to be devoured at any given moment."

Devoured. The use of the word makes your face heat up, and it is then that intrigue takes over. It's impossible not to ask, "Did you show any of them a good time at least?"

"How dare you suggest such a thing." Ross fakes a scoff before wrapping his arm around Amelia's waist and pulling her into his side as he plays on their new fake dynamic, "I've got a girlfriend to think about." You don't know whether to be jealous or happy for your best friend. But watching her blush has you wanting to scream at the top of your lungs. Maybe it's time to suggest a foursome to Matty?

Instead, you smirk and switch up your inquiry, "Are you going to show her a good time?"

Ross smirks at you before looking down at your very flustered best friend, deciding to reply with a mysterious, "If we're lucky."

Matty and George shake their heads, pulling Ross away from Amelia as you just look at your best friend and mouth, 'you lucky, lucky bitch'. The grin on your face won't subside as she walks towards you and grabs your hand, saying a quiet, "Shut up, shut up." The giggle that leaves your lips is loud, but the smile from this point onwards never leaves your face. Taking your hand, Amelia pulls you to the dancefloor, clearly needing a moment where it's just the two of you and no friends around to embarrass her further. Although, you do make her blush once more by telling her to go for it with Ross. Even if it's just for a night, she's absolutely won either way.

Unsurprisingly the subject gets dropped, even though you see the way her eyes linger on the bassist as she gets a little more tipsy and as you dance with her you catch the way Ross' eyes linger on her. You hope the both of them end up having a wonderfully messy night.

All previous sour interactions have left your mind, each sentence that had made you feel bittersweet before has been switched for the sound of Amelia's giggles as you have a dance off with each other. Charli bestows compliments on you when she eventually finds you, about your makeup and dresses and there's so much laughter from you all, but especially from George when you start your fake advances at his girlfriend. Not to mention how happy Matty's kisses make you feel, and you can't help but love the way Ross' winks at your best friend. Every negative thought you'd had while being here thankfully completely disappeared. You feel like you're riding such a high, and you wish you could bottle up that feeling and never let go of it.

"Come on, dance with me." You ask your boyfriend, and he absolutely indulges in your wishes without a second thought.

Dancing with him, song after song, wraps it all together for you. The man of your actual teenage dreams dancing with you, kissing you every chance he gets, at a place that never in your wildest dreams you thought you would be invited to, surrounded by people you only ever saw through big screens or on stage metres away from you.

It's a little wild to you how many familiar faces come up to you while you're on the dancefloor to speak to you about your work. About how much they adore Chicken Shop Date, or about how they love the way you and Amelia are on camera, and even how they love your friendship. Everyone is so beyond kind to you, and you truly don't think your heart has ever been so full. These talented people come up to you expressing how brilliant they think your show is, the one that you and your best friend dreamt up back in high school. Not only that, but now these celebrities are saying that they would love to be on a chicken shop date when you propose the idea of them coming on the show.

A million emotions course through you, and sometimes you don't even know how to react to it all. You're grateful, first and foremost, but it becomes rather overwhelming after a few hours of greeting so many new-but-old faces. Imposter syndrome mixed with the cocktails, aching feet, and a damn long past few days, you can feel your social battery draining at an increasing rate.

Matty is the first to notice, and he keeps a close eye on you until you say something. Only that you don't. And he can see the fact that you would rather be anywhere else but here now, but the words won't come out of your mouth.

"You wanna get a burger and head back to the hotel?" He asks into your ear while you softly dance together to a slower song.

You perk up instantly, your tired eyes widening at the thought of some food and the comfy hotel bed. Nodding, you smile to agree, "I would love to."

Your boyfriend pecks your lips before he stands up straight. A smile comes to his face when he sees your shoulders fall in relief at the prospect of leaving, "Let's say bye to them lot, and we'll sneak off."

Goodbyes are quick with the boys, George and Ross both giving you a bear hug and they melt your heart when they say they're proud of you, and you kiss them on their cheeks as a thank you. Charli gives you a hug before she's dragged away by someone who only just found her, but that gives you more time saying goodbye to your best friend. You're sure it's a solid 2 minutes that you clutch each other tightly for. You're both swaying, refusing to release the other, whispering how much you love each other and how proud you are of each other. Without any doubt you know that at one point you almost make her cry, and it's when you just about choke out that you can't believe that you've both made it.

When you eventually release each other, Matty notes the glassiness to your eyes so you really appreciate the way he grabs your hand and pulls you into his side and kisses your temple. On your way over to the fast food stand, you get stopped by a few more people wanting quick chats, all of the encounters leave you smiling like a lunatic despite you growing more tired by the minute. Before you know it, your order is being bagged up for the both of you, and Matty has your hand in his as you both aim for the exit. You can't help but steal one last glance at the room filled to the brim with A listers and you feel beyond lucky all over again.

Pride fills your chest as you take it all in for the last time, and you can't tame the smile on your lips. But that smile turns to a full on grin as you turn to leave after spying your best friend and a certain bassist dancing too suggestively and far too close together. God certainly has favourites, and you and Amelia are certainly near the top of the pecking order.

~*~*~*~

Matty holds your big In-N-Out bag, leaning against the doorframe while you look through your little purse for your hotel room key.

All that is on your mind is taking your heels off, eating, taking off your makeup, and cuddling your boyfriend in bed until you fall asleep. You can't get in the room quick enough once the door opens, and Matty can't stop smiling at you. Your little list is stuck like a post-it to the forefront of your mind, and you tick the first item off it as soon as you open the door. Seeing where your expensive and borrowed heels fly to, distracts you for a few seconds from the very big surprise that awaits you sitting on the coffee table.

"Oooo flowers!" You gasp loudly, dropping your purse on the floor, when your gaze lands on the royal blue and white roses. There's so many of them it fills the table as a stunning centrepiece. "These are huge," you can't stop yourself from thinking out loud, wondering how many roses make up for the large arrangement. "They must've been so expensive for Vanity Fair to buy. I guess they've got the money though."

You chuckle hearing yourself, but before going back to your boyfriend and the delicious meal that awaits you, you notice the little envelope that pops out in between the flowers. It's been placed in such a way that you don't see the 'Baby' written on the back of it until you pluck it from the holder.

"Matty..." you say under your breath, knowing that this is his handwriting, and therefore, the flowers are his doing. As you go to open the envelope, a soft "What?" falls from your lips, but he just watches you with a smile so that you continue reading the little note.

'I never thought something we said on our first ever date would be so true. Thank you for showing me the art that is dating you. You continue to amaze me every day. I'm so unbelievably proud of you, baby.'

Your heart is hammering against your chest, begging to escape its humane prison to end up in his hands. Each word on the note branding itself on the forefront of your mind while your eyes can't stop going over them again and again. It's hard to tell if you're dreaming or not.

"You deserve them and more," your boyfriend says, snapping you out of your trance.

"Baby." You whisper, a lump almost forming in your throat at the emotions threatening to escape. But of course they do, your eyes fill with tears and a few fall slowly down your cheeks. Instantly, you walk towards him, your arms instantly wrapping around his neck and burying yourself into the comfort that is his body. Matty holds you tightly, but on your way over, he spied your glistening eyes. So he leans back a little, prying your face from his neck and cupping your cheeks in his hands so he can see his gorgeous girlfriend.

"No," He says softly, trying not to coo at your pouting face. Thumbs rubbing at your cheeks as he attempts to stop your tears from spilling, "No crying on me."

But it's actually impossible not to. Not when the flowers are insanely beautiful, not when his words make your heartbeat erratic. Not when everything you feel about him is coming over you like pouring rain, impossible not to become overwhelmed by their effect over you. "Thank you so much, I- I-" Your eyes leave his briefly, glancing back at the beautiful bouquet, your voice almost cracks as you explain, "No one's ever given me flowers before."

It's almost pathetic that you're crying over flowers, but it just feels so special and you feel beyond grateful for this charming man being in your life. Never have you felt so happy. Never did you think this sort of happiness was intended for you, and the fact you now have it makes it all the more precious to you.

You all but fling yourself at your boyfriend again, clutching him as tight as you possibly can which makes Matty release one of those wonderfully unique giggles of his. He smiles, leaning into you to place a kiss where your shoulder meets your neck before he says, "Well if you're going to cling to me like this, please expect them all the time now."

A teary giggle escapes your throat, but you don't let him go as you whisper a sincere, "Thank you so so much."

"Anything for you." Matty smiles, his hand rubbing up and down your back comfortingly. He gently tells you again, "I'm so so proud of you."

"I'm proud of you." It's a must that you say it back at him, because getting to witness all the things he and the guys are doing fills you up with pride. But there is also a tinge of regret when you admit, "I wish I'd brought you a present to New York now."

Of course, your boyfriend is adorable and says, "I had you as my present. And you're all I'll ever need." He kisses your cheek, and his lips brush the soft skin of your face as he declares, "Best present ever."

But that only makes you want to cry again. Your chin wobbles, and your eyes fill with tears, while your voice is just strong enough to let out a broken, "Matty."

"No crying." He smiles with a tiny shake of his head, and he makes an effort to be cheerier and to distract you a little so you're not ending the night crying, no matter if the tears are happy or sad. "Come on," Matty takes one of your hands in his and gives it a little squeeze before smiling brightly, "Let's eat. I don't know about you but I'm starvin'."

Sniffling a little, you wipe the remnants of your tears and move your gorgeous flowers towards the side so that Matty and you could set up your feast on the nearby glass table. You take your seats on either side of the corner, so you're facing each other and your feet end up knocking against each other as you set out your meal.

The food has gotten a little cold now, but it still looks amazing. And after such a long day, you can't wait any longer to dig in. After taking a big bite of your cheeseburger, you hum in content and dance a little in your place. Matty chuckles as he takes a bite as well, and it's when he grabs a chip that you get nostalgic.

The parallels between your first ever date, contractual or not, and tonight are all that you're thinking, "I feel like we're in a really fancy version of a chicken shop."

"Yeah, same." Matty agrees, looking around as he takes in the luxurious look of the hotel room and compares it to that chicken shop in London where you first dated, "Fancier venue too. The food is just the same and average."

You can't help but think about how much you would pay to go back to that first date. To tease him for being late, ask all the silly questions Amelia and you had come up with, to get him flustered and for him to get you flustered. Never would you have thought that it would have brought you here, to this very moment. And the conclusion you always get to is, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Your boyfriend gives you a sickenly sweet smile, and his eyes scream sincerity when he replies, "Me neither."

Your smile is huge just before you take a bite of your burger, but Matty's silent questioning has you explaining, "You're practically dressed the same as you were on our date."

Matty looks down at himself and chuckles, "Oh yeah." noticing only his shirt is a different colour to the white one he wore on the date.

"I feel like I'm on par with you now." You take his attention back to you, and his eyes drop to your exquisite crimson dress again and he can't help but smile.

"Hey," Matty raises his eyebrows as he eats a chip. He's unable to stop his smirk, "You looked amazing in those leather pants." The memory of it makes you giggle, and you're sure you'll never forget the way he looked at you on your official second date either when you wore the black ones just to toy with him. You make a mental note to get a few more leather pieces for your wardrobe when you get back home.

"Not as good as you in those black ones in the Love Me video." You grin, "Your arse is better now than it was back then, I need to get you in a pair again." Biting your lip for a second, you have to add, "Tight ones, preferably."

The snort that Matty releases makes a smile appear on both of your faces. "I knew you only wanted me for my body." You hum in fake agreement, with a playful roll of your eyes as you take another bite of your burger. Matty feeds you a few of his chips then which makes you giggle again but you gratefully accept them.

Relishing the moment you are sharing with your boyfriend is easy, but it's hard for you to wrap your head around everything that's happened tonight, "This still feels so surreal. I can't believe this is my life."

Matty, being the jokester that he is, can't help himself and says, "Baby, I thought you were over being starstruck by my presence."

You roll your eyes, and sarcastically laugh, "Ha, ha. You're a little shit." And though you would love to joke about it, like you know your boyfriend is trying to do, to make whatever ramble you're about to go on not as heavy on yourself, you can't help but let your thoughts leave you freely.

"It's just-, I don't know." It's frustrating how you can't find the appropriate words for your feelings, so you just continue talking, "A designer offered to make this dress for me. Vanity Fair and The Academy wanted Amelia and I as hosts for this carpet. People we have been looking up to for ages actually recognised us and said they love our work."

"I don't understand how this just happened. And it's not been overnight. We've been doing this for almost 10 years now. But... I'm just amazed by it all." Truth be told, you had never thought things would come to be this big for you two after such a long time trying to make it anywhere. "And I feel awful that I just wanted to be gone by the end of the party." You felt so ungrateful in the moment, and now you feel the need to apologise for it, "I'm sorry, by the way. For letting my energy get so low, and just not keeping up with the energy inside the party."

"Baby-," Matty starts, but you can't hear him say you don't need to apologise again.

"No, I-. You might have wanted to stay, but I was just drained." Admitting that is hard, knowing that you should've enjoyed every second of it. Imposter syndrome being exchanged for shame at yourself for not taking in every little bit that you're getting back now. "And I know you. I know we left because of me."

The look you give him makes him reach out for you, holding your hand over the table. Earnestly, he starts, "Baby, you don't have to apologise for that. Ever." You pout at him, unsure of how to truly feel; relieved by the reassurance that it's okay to have wanted to escape all that, or still guilty to have felt so overwhelmed by such a big night.

Your boyfriend knows how to get you to smile though, because he gives you a cheeky smile as he adds, "You know we'll always leave at the same time."

A snort comes from you, and you shake your head while fighting a big grin tugging at the corners of your lips to call him out, "Of course you had to do a self-reference."

He shrugs, squeezing your hand twice, "Made you laugh."

You hum, not wanting to actually acknowledge that, instead admitting, "Made me want to listen to Notes."

Matty grabs another chip, with the hand he's not holding yours with, and contently promises, "I'll serenade you once I'm done with my food."

Now that's one thing you'd love, so you smile brightly as you continue to eat. But Matty notices how your smile fades off as you silently continue eating, so it's no surprise when you show that you've been giving it all a thought again when you confess, "I know you just said I shouldn't apologise but I must confess it's become so much attention now, sometimes I think I'm not made for it."

He looks at you seriously this time, knowing how hard it is to struggle with fame. Having dealt with not only his own, but his parents' and the effect it had on his family. Even though he knows it's not the best thing to hear, he knows that the best insight he can give you is, "You sort of get used to it."

"What if I never do?" You ask genuinely, "Because I can deal with the dates, the promo for them, and these events. But only when it's on camera." A heavy sigh leaves you when you remember what happened earlier, another example of why that attention you're getting can be so inconvenient, "I was so uncomfortable when that guy came up to me inside."

"That prick?" Matty says straight away, but he notices what he's doing again, so he rephrases it, "The actor?"

"Yeah. He wouldn't get any of the things I was telling him. And then you came over..." The feeling of uncertainty that filled you at that moment comes back as a ghost that makes goosebumps break on your skin, "I didn't know what to do, honestly."

Your boyfriend pales, and stops eating. It's clear now how much of a dickhead he had been earlier, and he apologises for it, "I'm sorry for reacting like that instead of comforting you."

You don't want to make it a big deal, not wanting for that drunk guy to take away from tonight. And you know that Matty saw all the flirting on the livestream, you cannot judge him for being jealous when you would've been too if you were in his position, "It's alright, I get it."

But you sure appreciate how self-aware and thoughtful your boyfriend is when he continues, "No, I went defensive instead of making sure you were okay. And I know you can handle yourself, and you did handle it yourself but I should've thought of only you instead of wanting to get all macho man with the lad."

What you don't expect though, is for another apology to follow. "And while we're apologising, I'm sorry about Ashley's behaviour." It takes you a second to realise he's talking about Halsey but he continues, "You didn't need all of that today and certainly, especially on camera but even afterwards in the party." Matty can't help but shake his head as he frowns, "She never could bite her tongue if something was on her mind but that hit a new low this evening."

"Nonsense," You shake your head, picking up another few chips as you say, "You don't have to apologise for that, for her."

"I know I don't," Matty is instant and even pauses eating as he tells you, "But maybe if in the past, if I had left things a little better, you wouldn't have had to be on the receiving end of that today."

You can see the guilt simmering in his eyes, and that's something you never wish to see. Especially about this specific subject. There's nothing you want him apologising for. "Her not growing up and getting over it is not your issue." You very seriously say, looking into his gorgeous eyes as you promise him, "She didn't ruin my night, and you don't need to apologise."

You lean across the table and take his hand, squeezing a little as you smile, "Having you here with me tonight was one of the best things about it."

Matty can't help but smile as he intertwines your fingers. He tilts his head to the side as he playfully asks, "Not the best thing about it?"

"Oh no no," You can't help but smirk at him, grabbing another chip with your other hand and eating them as you grin, "You gotta know your place."

Matty can't help but laugh, but he indulges you, asking, "Do tell."

He's so beyond easy to wind up, it's a joke. And all it takes is three little words. Your curly haired brunette's face changes entirely when you smirk, "Seeing Ross, obviously."

"Oh come on!" Matty scoffs, pulling his hand from yours to playfully hit the table in fake frustration. It's beyond funny as you can see him wanting to laugh, but he manages to restrain himself. But you can't help but think back to the man who your boyfriend still doesn't believe is now more thirsted over than himself. One day you will show him the depth of stan twitter.

"Did you see him and Amelia when we left?" You have to question as you eat some more of your food, and you almost find yourself flushing a little when you ask, "I wonder if they left together."

Matty smiles, as it wouldn't surprise him after the way he saw his mate looking at your best friend this evening. But he can't help but plead, "Don't put a glass to the wall I beg."

"She's across the hall, so at least we're safe." You chuckle a little, but you can't help but let your mind go a little wild and your lips get a little loose as you add, "However, I'd do anything to be a third."

Never have you seen your boyfriend's jaw fall so fast than it did just then, and it takes everything you have to stop yourself from bursting out laughing. His dramatic leaning back in his chair, shaking his head and crossing his arms, "Wow, okay," makes it even harder to stifle your laughter.

"Oh don't get jealous." You purse your lips to stop your amusement from showing, but you're sure that you're not hiding it very well. "If there's a third, there would be a fourth. I'd bring you."

Matty raises his eyebrows, as he half laughs, half scoffs in disbelief, "Oh how gracious of you!"

You can't hold your laughter then, and it seems your boyfriend can't either. You both let a few laughs out, the last of your food long since forgotten in front of you, but Matty shakes his head as his chuckling slowly subsides, "I'm not sharing you. No way."

"Oh come on." You tease, the smile on your face never faltering as you carry on taking the mick, "Even with our best friends? We've all kissed before."

"What now?" Matty's eyes somehow get wider.

"Well," You chuckle as you correct yourself, "Me and Amelia, you and Ross. What's the difference?"

Your boyfriend shakes his head, "No." A smile is still tugging on his lips though, and you're adamant to get that grin back on his face.

"Come on!" You lean forward and poke his knee, trying now to annoy him into submission.

"No, I don't want them to touch you." Matty bats your hand away, shaking his head again, his curls going everywhere as he says, "No way."

Smirking, you sing-song, "You're jealous."

Matty wraps a curl around his finger a few times before he says, "No."

"Don't lie." You laugh, knowing full well that you're right. So you nod, repeating yourself, "You're so jealous."

You would've bet thousands on him not admitting he was jealous, yet he shocks you first when he easily replies, "Well of course I'm jealous." But it's far easier for him to say, "I love you."

You see his face change from the faux nonchalant demeanour he had put on to tone down his jealousy, to an expression of surprise at himself. But his face didn't fall in fear nor embarrassment. There was a shadow of relief, a sparkle of anticipation rather than dread for your answer. Because, truly, he's spent so many nights thinking about when the best moment to tell you would be. The struggle to keep in those three words has been excruciating, but the need to make it special has been even worse.

But now he's here, letting slip at such a random time, and though he should be worried he's fucked it all up by saying it now, he feels a weight lift off his shoulders. His heart beats freely inside his chest, content at the fact that it's all out in the open, just waiting for what you're going to say next.

A massive smile makes its way to your face, your cheeks will be hurting and you know it, because there's nothing and no one that will be able to wipe it off your face. "Yeah?" You giggle because the two of you saying these words to each other like this is so you. And you truly wouldn't have it any other way. That's exactly why you add, "I'd probably be jealous as well because I love you too."

"Give me a kiss." Matty's grin is unlike anything you've seen before, and he leans forward, needing that closeness once more. Of course, you're about to lean forward and kiss him, but a memory springs to mind which keeps you sitting back in your seat.

The smile on your lips is untamable when you say, "Can't reach."

Something in Matty's heart lurches when you say that. The image of you doing the exact same thing to him back on your first date is quick to enter his mind. He can't believe just how much has changed since that day. Never would he have imagined that agreeing to the date and asking for you back at the NME awards would lead to him being in the most meaningful relationship of his life. Never has he felt such love from another person, or has been so in love before.

So there's absolutely no hesitation from him when he smiles, "I can reach."

"I can't reach." You stay where you are, a massive smile still on your face as you sit back needing the past to repeat itself.

Smirking, Matty stands up, "I can reach." and he places his hands on the table dividing you, leaning closer, and he gently takes your chin between his thumb and finger and makes you look up at him. He leans in closer to kiss you but pauses a few inches away to promise, "I'll always reach."

And if you weren't already madly and deeply in love with him, you would have been then. You bridge the gap and kiss the love of your life like you can't wait another second.

You've kissed your boyfriend before a million times, every one of them releasing a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, but this time it feels different. His plush lips slotting between yours, the warmth of his hands cupping your face, the sound of his soft exhales as he moves with you. His tongue poking out slowly to tease yours, an invasion that you accept gracefully with a hum that makes him hold you a little tighter. But it's not rushed, it's not shadowed by lust or need; it's slow and deliberate, intense yet thoughtful, like both of you are trying to memorise what it feels to taste each other's mouth when the novelty of those three words is still fresh on your tongues.

Matty's smile is so soft once he pulls back from the kiss, despite having done reluctantly so. "Say it again."

"I love you." You whisper, needing him to know those words are only ever for him from this moment on. Your heart is his and it forever will be. Nothing will ever change that now.

Matty watches you say that to him, and he can't believe his luck. You're it for him, and he has every intent to cross every milestone with you. Give it a year and he has every intention to have a stone on your left ring finger.

He presses another kiss to your lips just before he promises, "I love you." The small giggle that leaves your lips in answer is one of pure joy. You can't believe that you're so lucky, that you have such a wonderful man who has been your crush for years declaring his love for you.

"Okay, I'm changing my answer," You say randomly, not really bursting the bubble of your moment but piquing at Matty's curiosity.

So he is quick to ask, "To what?"

You definitely get his heart racing when you make clear what it is that you're referring to, "Seeing Ross wasn't the best thing to happen today."

He smirks, prematurely smug about what you're about to say and how it definitely involves him. "Ah, really. What's the best thing now?"

Yet, you remind him of just why he fell absolutely and irrevocably in love with you when you say someone else's name instead of his, "Paul Mescal."

Matty cackles loudly, not having anticipated you saying that at all, but he plays along, "Now that's a crush I can get behind. We have similar taste with that one."

"See?" You grin, "That's why I love you."

~*~*~*~ The End ~*~*~*~

A/N: We're so damn emotional finishing this story. We never anticipated what it was going to become, but we thank you endlessly for all the love you gave it and allowing us to continue to have fun with it. Long live Baby and Matty, we'll miss them loads.

Taglist: @kennedy-brooke @faveficz @indierockgirrl @slutformattyhealy @kmsmedine @cecefaith @benkidgenius @avasjunkpile@spicyraccoonlordking@lizzylynch1 @ofbluesandyellows @kipperthedog2004 @slutforcoffein @madamedesmond @iamhallucinationnn @imagines4peeps @siwiecola @eaglestar31 @neverlieliliac @olliewhinchester @internetmultifandomfangirl @wellwellhereiam @dania7361 @kurdtbean @mawanji @jazzymariexoxoc @picklesandsprinkles @home-of-disaster @maelialuv @londonalozzy @ker0senebunny @golden-hoax @thouarntsage @belledawnidk @confusedcrayon @how2understand @harringt8ns @sheisaaantisocial @brumantrack @real-actual-human-person @eddiemunsonsgroupie @hemmings8376 @darlingbravebelle @defnotgracee @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @deamus-liv @itsjustsocialimplications @deamus-liv @itsjustsociallimplications @lauren--maex @ithinkivegonemad11 @stclen-sweethearts @stuck-in-fictional-worlds @befrwime @getbillzoned @hazskillerqueen @conanbeshifting @thereisaplaceintheheart @jasmine06blog @blancastans @luvrattyhealy @wendyspotatopeeler @oh-caro @journey-to-consistency @kizzywh @ihatemat-tyhealy @l0ve-0f-my-life @julezs-bl0g @geeksareunique @eddiemunsonsgroupie @procrastinatinglikeapro @inlovewrobin @houseofdilfs @wh0re4zaynmalik @qtheressurections @hrryshoney @sinarainbows @behindmygreyeyes @oliviahickson @strugglingsophieee

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man-im-so-high · 1 year ago

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matty is just so boyfriend material

#everytime i look at him i fall for him again #he's so cute #my husband #married for 5 years already #matty healy #the 1975 #satvb #still at their very best #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy fanfiction

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toomuchracket · 7 months ago

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girl of your dreams (d word matty x reader smut)

early days of the relationship, sneaky post-show hotel room sex. warnings for d word mention (duh), exactly one (1) spank, matty going down soft sound, unprotected sex (girly is on the pill tho), and creampies. enjoy <3

“yeah, yeah, goodnight,” matty smiles as his bandmates disappear into their respective rooms, entering his own when the locking mechanism clicks open. he's used to that sound now, used to quickly sliding the do not disturb hanger onto the handle, used to kicking his shoes off and placing the keycard near the door and yawning as he turns the corner into the bedroom proper.

what he's not used to, however, is seeing you there, sprawled out on his bed watching tv, wearing your glasses and a champagne-coloured satin nightgown that quite honestly makes him go weak in the knees.

he wants to get used to it, though. really, really wants to. he's determined to, actually. but first, he's determined to make up for being later to your rendezvous than planned. “hi, darling,” he smiles (how could he not, looking at you?), shrugging his jacket off en route to the bed. “i'm so sorry it took me so long to get here.”

“s'alright, baby, i understand. newcastle show and all,” you crawl to the end of the bed to meet him, and the way your tits swing as you do affects him almost as much as the pet name does; both of these things pale in comparison to the way you kiss him, though, all soft lips and quiet sighs, hand coming up to hold his face while you smile into him. when the kiss ends, you press your forehead to matty's, and it takes all his focus not to swoon. “your family are lovely, by the way. ‘specially your dad.”

matty laughs softly. “yeah, he was telling me how canny he thinks you are. says i should be paying you extra for the fact you're the one waking me up every morning.”

“oh, no, i like the kiss currency thing we've got,” you giggle, pressing one to his nose and sending his heart racing. “but were you really that much of a nightmare when you were little?”

“christ, yeah. he didn't detail it?”

“no, he was very sweet. maybe he was trying to make you seem cool,” your pretty face shifts into a smirk, and matty braces himself for the inevitable. “i mean, your family are all so concerned with when you plan on settling down - maybe he was trying to make you seem appealing to me.”

“take it you heard them asking me if i was seeing anyone, then?”

“yeah. was funny,” you peck his lips. “and your answer was very good.”

matty hums, thinking back to the there's someone, yeah, but she's too good for me so i'm playing it cool right now he'd placated his family with. which, to be honest, isn't a total lie. “good, good,” he gently lowers you so you're lying on the bed, crawling atop you and resting his arms on either side of your head; yours rest on his shoulders, pretty nails gently scratching at the back of his head the way he likes. “and was my dad successful?”

“at making you appeal to me? oh, yeah,” the playfulness in your eyes is addictive. “i’m really quite fond of you, matthew.”

god, the way you say his name! “feeling's mutual, gorgeous,” matty leans back, letting his calloused hands lightly skim up the sides of your torso. “love this outfit, by the way.”

“m'glad. bought it with you in mind,” the revelation sends matty reeling, and it's only worsened by what comes next. “dunno if you could call it an outfit, though.”

“why not?”

you smile, sweet as sugar. “because i'm not actually wearing anything else, darling.”

jesus christ. blood rushing in his ears, matty stutters out a response. “you serious?”

a nod, a suggestive bite of your own fingertip. “see for yourself.”

what a fool he would be to do otherwise. blood still pumping in his ears, and travelling more towards his trousers by the nanosecond, matty drags himself down your body and settles himself on the bed between your - fucking gorgeous - legs. with something almost resembling trepidation, he slowly pushes the silk up your thighs, jaw dropping in a groan as he takes in the enticing wetness pooling between them on your cunt. “fucking hell, sweetheart,” he moans, hand tracing up your slit and circling your clit as if on instinct, making you jerk with a whine and his dick jump as a result. when he brings his fingers to his lips and the delectable tang of you hits his tongue, matty's necessary next step becomes crystal clear. “please, please let me eat you out.”

your reply nearly makes him cum there and then - another thing matty's still unused to is the new nickname you've been trying out together, but it isn't half fucking incredible. “yes, daddy.”

matty thinks he breathed out a “thank you” as soon as the words left your lips, but he can't be sure; the only thing he can focus on is getting his mouth on you, licking upwards to your clit before wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves and flicking over it with the tip of his tongue, just the way he was elated to discover you like. he can't help but moan into you when he hears your little whimper of “oh, just like that, yeah”, smiling when you moan louder in response and clamp your thighs around his head - a second later, when realisation seems to hit, you go to loosen your grip with a half-whined “m'sorry, daddy”, but matty just shakes his head (which has you moaning again as his tongue slices across your clit) and shuffles himself around so he can wrap his arms around your thighs and keep them there. not out of masochism - well, part of it is - but more out of the fact that your thighs locked around his head is proof that this is really happening, and he isn't just dreaming about going down on you like he did for months after first meeting you.

of course, reality is so much better than those dreams: matty could never have imagined how good you actually taste when he's licking into you with nothing short of desperation, or how beautiful you look when you're all fucked-out, or the way your voice goes all shaky when you're about to cum. which, incidentally, is what's happening now - “m'close, daddy, m'so fucking close. wanna cum, please, please let me cum!”

seems as good a time as any for matty to take a breath, he thinks. pulling away from you just long enough to take in a lungful or air, he nods. “cum, princess.”

with a dazed smile so beautiful it breaks his heart a little bit, and a breathy “thank you”, you obey, body tensing and releasing a final time, accompanied by shaking limbs and broken whimpers of his name and his nickname and god only knows what else. matty kisses your inner thigh, resting his head on it and letting you come back down to earth in your own time; he likes watching you like this, anyway, worn-out from pleasure and a little bit haphazard. your hair's a mess, your glasses are askew (he's also far more into them than he initially thought, to be honest), and your nightgown is really quite crinkled, but he can practically feel the adoration for you emanating from himself.

you're so beautiful. and you're his. he still can't quite believe it's not a dream.

you rake a hand through his sweaty curls, and he's reminded that this is all real. he kisses your thigh again, and you giggle. “hi.”

“hi, darling,” matty rubs a little loveheart on your thigh with his thumb. “how you feeling?”

“so good. thank you, gorgeous,” you smile, while matty's cheeks burn at the compliment. “how are you?”

“i'm good, angel, i'm really good.”

“tired at all?”

he shakes his head. “not really. but we can go to sleep now if you want,” he smirks when you shake your head enthusiastically. “no? there's something else you wanna stay up for… princess?”

you bite your lip, nodding. he huffs out a laugh. “need you to tell me what it is so we can do it, sweet girl. come on,” he pulls himself up slowly, pressing kisses up your stomach and resting his head on your tits. “tell daddy what you want.”

“i - oh, fuck,” you whimper as matty tugs down the top of your dress and mouths at your nipple. “want- want you to fuck me, daddy. please.”

he knew it was coming, and yet matty still feels heat trickle down his chest right to his dick when you speak. “good girl. and how do you want to be fucked, princess?”

“in front of the mirror,” your voice is clear, sure, sexy; it crumbles when you talk again, but matty thinks your secret desire is even hotter. “wanna watch.”

the next few minutes are a blur to matty, which he reckons he would put down to some weird primitive horny instinct to just fuck you as soon as he can. he remembers kissing you, but nothing about how he got you on your hands and knees before the mirror or undressed himself; post-kiss, the only thing he can focus on is the feeling of inching inside your soaked cunt, watching your eyes roll back into your head, listening to the choked moan that leaves your kiss-bitten lips as he bottoms out inside you with a murmured “fuck”. he kisses your shoulder, smiling into your summer-scented skin at the way you giggle deliriously. “feel so good around me, baby. you want me to fuck you now?”

“please,” your jaw slackens as matty starts to move his hips; when he speeds up, groaning at how wet you are, how brain-meltingly tight, you whimper, and he has to force himself not to cum then and there. “daddy…”

“i know, sweetheart, i know. doing so well for me,” matty coos, eyes fixated on the reflection of your tits bouncing in the genuinely most perfect way with every thrust. christ, he's really lucked out with you, hasn't he? sweet, smart, fucking gorgeous… he's punching well above his weight. “my beautiful girl. want me to get you off again, princess?”

you nod, whimpering when his hand meets your asscheek; as he rubs the stinging skin, matty sighs. “words, baby, come on.”

“sorry, daddy. yes please.”

he leans forward to kiss the nape of your neck, moving to whisper in your ear. “good girl.”

his hips speed up, so much so that he can already feel the muscle aches he'll wake up with tomorrow. but it's more than worth it to see you like this, to make you like this, wanton and writhing and whining every time your bodies meet; the way you're beginning to clench around him in the way matty's learned is a sign that you're about to cum spurs him on, too, desperate to get you off and chase his own release. “c'mon, princess,” he pants, gripping your hips as tight as possible to keep up momentum. “need you to cum for me, yeah? cum, and i'll fill you up. know you fucking love it when i do that, don't you? love being a good girl for daddy.”

“yeah,” comes the broken cry in response. your cheeks are stained with mascara tears, streaming from your hazy eyes, and your whole body appears to be shaking - suddenly, it tenses, and matty hisses at the feeling of you vice-tight around his dick. “m'cumming, oh fuck, fuck!”

there's an influx of warmth and wetness around him, and matty can't help but follow in your footsteps. “shit, me too,” he moans, brain foggy but body still slamming into yours, syncopated now; he clings to you as he cums, eyes rolling back into his head as he finishes deep inside your cunt. your arms give out, and matty follows your fall onto the bed, draping himself over you without pulling out and pressing his lips to the back of your neck. “jesus christ, princess, you're so good,” he kisses your cheek when you giggle, a sweetness incongruous with the fact he can feel his cum dripping out of you. “y'alright?”

“yeah,” you turn to catch his lips with yours, a tender kiss that ends with you looking at him so adoringly he almost can't take it. “thank you, baby.”

“anytime. s'my pleasure. and yours, i s'pose.”

“you're so silly.”

“and you're into it.”

“i am, yeah,” you smile, and matty swears he can feel butterflies in his stomach. “i'm just very into you.”

“i feel the same about you,” matty strokes your hair, yawning. “shall we shower? or d'you wanna stay like this for a bit, darling?”

you beam. “wanna stay like this forever, matty. but,” you wink. “given that we're both working tomorrow, maybe we should limit it to, let's say, five minutes of this before we shower?”

god, he's so obsessed with you. “whatever you want, my girl.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #d word matty #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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god-has-entered-my-body · 5 months ago

Text

On a train (again) - Matty Healy x fem! Reader

A/N: oh my god hello im alive i think. classic abouttofillhisshoes era style banner im going back to my roots. mpind revival no one was ready for ❤️

content warnings: smut, blowjobs, fingering, switchy throughout for sure, fingering, sex in public spaces the fucking freaks cant wait, they get caught and its as terrible as it sounds

word count: 1.7k

This is a horrible idea, you're sure.

A cheap soap bar clatters onto the ground as you somehow force the door of the bathroom shut, squeezing you and matty into the cramped space. There's barely any room to stand, your knees touching his and foreheads pressed against each other, both of you panting heavily as Matty’s grin makes something stir inside of you.

“We’re fucking mental for this, you know that?” He breathes out, that stupid smile contagious as you roll your eyes at him, smashing your lips together in a heated, sweaty kiss.

The train rumbles underneath you and you can hear fellow passengers chattering outside, the danger of it all having you drip into your panties, soaked through in a matter of seconds. Hands roam aimlessly up and down your figure, clothes torn off haphazardly as Matty paws at your lacy bra, desperate enough to pull the cups down instead of unbuttoning it as he usually would. You dont have enough time for propriety, definitely not.

“Need you now, want you so fucking bad babe.” you moan into his ear, lips attached to you throat as Matty bites and sucks messy hickeys into the skin of your neck, his tongue finding the little charm of your necklace in an instant. The cursive M that dangles on a dainty silver chain, forever in plain sight drives the boy insane, his eyes glued to the metal while his fingers work at pulling your too-tight skirt up and over your hips.

His hands squeeze the fat of your sides, kneading and bruising the skin harshly as you whimper into his touch, hands scratching his back raw, red lines visible in the crooked mirror behind him. You see a light flicker, but pay it absolutely no mind when Mattys fingers finally pull your thong to the side, not even bothering to slip it off. No, he needs you just as much as you need him. Right. Fucking. Now.

The rough pads of his fingers swipe at your clit and you let out a whine, a hand quickly clamped over your mouth to muffle your noises. The door might be thick, but it isn't soundproof. The thought of someone walking in on you in this precarious position makes your heart thrum in your ribcage, and an excited smile creeps up onto your lips.

“Fuck, oh my god, Matty.” you whimper as he speeds up, curls obstructing your vision but not hiding the way Matty bucks his hips forward, back flexing in the mirror behind him in a way that makes your breath hitch.

You're breathless, Mattys fingers working at a dizzying pace and the feel of his cold rings grazing your walls makes you clench around him, earning yourself a proud chuckle. “You’re so fucking hot, angel. Got me rock hard for you, all f’you” Matty’s voice is raspy, low as he whispers filth into your ears, the knot in your core tightening with each syllable that leaves his spit covered lips. “Doing so good for me sweetheart, gonna make me come s’fast.” you slur your words, but the praise spurs him on, his non dominant hand holding you tightly and you can barely contain the pathetic moan that threatens to rip itself from your throat as the heel of his hand grinds against your clit deliciously.

It doesn’t take long until you're close, it can't, given the location you’re both currently in. You’re almost embarrassed at how quickly you whisper the words “M’xlose, fuck- please baby.” into his ear, burying your head into his neck as your orgasm washes over you in mind numbing waves, Matty’s tongue nipping at your earlobe driving you fucking insane.

And right when you think you're done, exhausted, Matty takes his slick covered fingers, and sticks them into his own mouth. The way he sucks on them is absolutely obscene, and it awakens something more inside of you. “Y’taste so good darling, like honey.” you’d cringe at his painfully cheesy comment if it wasn't for the lust filled look he was giving you, eyes filled with suggestion and willingness.

You dont think as you drop down to your knees, banging your heels against the door in the process. The position is cramped and awkward, yes, but all of that fades away the second you see the way he strains against his jeans, twitching at the way you look up at him, batting your mascara covered eyelashes.

“What's got you this worked up, hm?” you tease, a hand coming up to squeeze his ass firmly, making Matty yelp in surprise. “You’re a fuckin minx is what you are. Got me hard and now you’re teasing.”

“Jesus, you complain too much, don't you think?” you bite back before biting for real, taking the fly of his jeans between your teeth and pulling it down slowly, relishing in the way Matty threads his hand into your hair, tugging unintentionally as his fingers catch a knot, making you whine at the sudden strike of pain and pleasure through your body.

Matty whimpers and leans against the unstable sink behind him, gripping onto it with his other hand. The faint wet spot on the front of his boxers as you pull the trousers down makes you giddy, licking your lips in anticipation. Matty knows better than to say something now, not when hes so fucking close. “Please.” is the only word that slips past his pressed together lips before you take him out of his underwear, pressing a teasing kiss to the tip of his leaking cock.

You resist making a comment on how wet he is, wanting to make this last at least a few minutes before he spills down your throat. But its just too fucking good to pass up.

“God, you're just soaked for me, aren't you angel? Just need me that badly.”

Matty nods frantically, eyes screwed shut in ecstasy as you guide him into your mouth, the warm wetness of your throat sending him into a frenzy. He feels like he's reached some sort of other world, pure pleasure enveloping his body as you tongue at him, your little hums of satisfaction at his reactions making him louder and louder, threatening to expose the both of you.

Matty’s eyes widen as you guide his hand to push you forward, nodding slightly as he gives you a look of confirmation. “You’re a fucking wet dream, fuck.”

Your mascara flows freely down your cheeks as he grips your hair harshly, pulling you back before thrusting his cock back into your warm mouth, small gasps of pleasure filling the cramped bathroom.

The both of you freeze when you hear a quiet back from outside, scared to death it might be a knock. Ten seconds go by, then thirty, and you're sure the person had moved on once realising the door was locked. You shoot Matty a relieved look, and he giggled in return, whispering an exhilarated “Could you imagine if they had realised what we were doing in here? Id fucking die of embarrassment.

“You’re getting your dick sucked, how could that possibly be embarrassing?” you answer, raising your eyebrows at him, and a string of spit connects your lips to his tip. Matty doesn't take his eyes away from that spot the entire time you speak. “Yeah, in a train bathroom, it's all dirty in here!”

“Can’t be dirtier than what we’re doing, can it?” you grin, sticking your tongue out to lap up the precum drooling from his cock.

The feeling of him hitting the back of your throat over, and over, and over again makes you drip between your thighs, your hips shifting slightly to try and get some friction on the seam on your panties. Matty pants loudly, biting his lip as your eyes tear up even more, your makeup absolutely ruined in your effort.

“M’so fucking close, darling girl, fuck you feel so good.” He moans, tightening his grip in your hair even more, forcing you in place as he fucks your throat, hard. You can barely form a coherent thought, the sound and smell and taste of him filling every sense. You arent prepared when we finally does spill into your mouth with a guttural groan, holding you down as the taste of come lands on your tongue. You swallow, much to Matty’s satisfaction, but not before showing him the remnants of his orgasm.

“Gonna fucking kill me babe, that was amazing.” You grin at him, aching knees almost buckling underneath you as you get up to kiss him, his little whine a the taste of himself on your lips makes your head spin. The bathroom reeks of sex and sweat, your hair is a mess and Matty’s shirt is still half undone as you open the door and peer out, being met with a pair of piercing blue eyes.

An old man stares at you from a seat facing the bathroom, a look of disgust on his face as you pull back into the space, the horror evident in your expression telling Matty everything he needed to know.

You both do the walk of shame down the aisle, making uncomfortable eye contact with multiple passengers who you now know definitely heard you. God, were you embarrassed.

By the time you make it back to your still empty seats, both of you are red in the face, yet still giggling at the absurdity of the situation.

“Never again. We are never doing that again.” you force out, letting your head fall onto his shoulders.

The both of you burst out into a fit of laughter as Matty replies.

“Was hot though, you on your knees-”

“Never. Again. “

#omg hi #mpind matty #matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfic #matty the 1975 #the 1975 smut #the 1975 x reader

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think0fmehigh · 23 days ago

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prof!matty c*ckwarming while he’s grading papers 🤭

elle u are my fav ily

sooo you had been unbearably needy all day while matty was at work, thinking about how he’d most likely come home and lay you down on the bed—always spoiling his sweet girl. it’s become a routine you’ve grown quite accustomed to.

unfortunately for you, he comes through the front door looking flustered instead of relieved after his lectures. he quickly sheds his coat and toes his shoes off before walking over to you and giving you a sweet kiss. he mutters a little apology, explaining he had to finish some work and walks straight into his home office.

you follow him, because of course that just wouldn’t do. you’ve been waiting for hours.

“matty, you’ve been gone all day. you need a break, baby,” you coo, frowning when you already see him sitting in his chair and getting started on work. your hands travel across his broad shoulders as you come up behind him, just the smell of him making you need him even more.

he sighs, “i’ve got to finish grading these papers. i’d just be another hour or two, alright?”

you lean down, pressing your lips to his scruffy cheek and moving your hands to undo the top button of his shirt. “a little break might help you get through it though, no?”

he reaches for one of your hands, kissing it tenderly. “darling, if i get in that bed with you right now i’m not getting any work done for the rest of the night.”

you giggle, littering a few more kisses down his neck before you’re bending down to crawl under the desk.

he needs to get these papers graded as his students’ final grades were due in a few days. he simply couldn’t give you his undivided attention until this was finished.

“would you behave, please?” he mutters, shaking his head as he peers down at you. you kneel between his legs, squishing your cheek comfortably against his thigh.

“just let me get you off, daddy,” you breathe, reaching a hand up to palm his clothed cock. he groans, beginning to harden against your hand.

“fuck—” he grunts, grabbing your wrist to halt your actions. “such a little slut.”

you whine, looking up at him with the best puppy dog eyes you can muster up. he lets go of your hand to hold your jaw, his cold rings feeling like ice on your warm skin. he feels a bit guilty, truly not wanting to be apart from you any longer. he runs his thumb over your lips, his other hand now resting on his belt.

“how about you warm my cock with this slutty little mouth? show daddy you deserve to be fucked when i’m done with this, hm?” he raises a brow, smirking when he sees how fast you start nodding your head.

“please,” you moan, watching him give in, taking his hard cock out of his pants. your cunt drips in anticipation as the clanks of his belt fill your ears.

he curses as he frees himself, wrapping his hand around his cock. precum leaks out of his tip and you can’t resist leaning in closer to lick it. his ringed hand goes up to your hair, guiding you closer. your lips part for his length.

you gaze up at him as you take him into your throat, shifting on your knees. your panties had to be soaked through, pussy aching to be touched.

“good girl, that’s it,” he praises, already looking back up at his laptop now that he could see the hazy look in your eye. it’s hard to focus on anything other than the weight of his cock on your tongue and the arousal between your legs. “much better like this, huh, my sweet girl?”

he pets your hair sweetly as you nod against his thigh, now somehow feeling completely at ease. his hands shift through piles of papers on his desk and then his fingers fly across his keyboard, entering grades as you kneel there pathetically.

if you could think properly you would’ve been amazed at how focused he can be on his work while his cock was in your mouth, but you can’t seem to do anything other than moan at his periodic praises.

#professor!matty #asks #requests #matty healy smut #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #the 1975 fic

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secretl1fe0fm3 · 3 months ago

Text

can’t take it back once it’s been set in motion ~ matty healy x fem!reader

this is slightly inspired by my favorite ovulation song; oxytocin by billie eilish

warnings: smut, inexperienced!reader, service top!matty, slight power imbalance, excessive use of the word ‘love’, matty going down soft sound, aftercare, soft(ish) dom!matty, sub!reader.

18+ minors dni!!!

2.8k+ words

You sigh lightly as your phone lights up your pitch black room, mocking your current state of insomnia. You had set it down over an hour ago to try and force yourself to sleep, but even with a lack of the blue light, you were still wide awake. Sitting up, you reach for your phone and notice an unknown number calling you. Already being unable to sleep, you decide to entertain whoever could possibly be calling you at this hour. Ultimately, deciding to answer.

“Hello?” You speak slowly and softly, still somewhat tired despite being unable to sleep.

“Thank god you answered.” Said the voice, relieved, on the other end of the line.

“Matty?” You could recognize that voice anywhere, even though you were seventy percent sure you were hallucinating right now.

“Im sorry to bother you at this hour, love. I need your help.” Matty breathes out, his voice sounding rushed. You groan to yourself, barely audible. You and Matty had been friends for years, meeting through a mutual friend, but you haven’t heard from him in almost two years until now. He practically ghosted your friendship when he found himself in a new, yet toxic relationship. But, based on the headlines you had read the other day scrolling twitter, they had finally called it quits.

Sitting up, you put your phone on speaker, and sit it in your lap. “Matty, what the fuck do you need?” You’re pissed, but your voice not showing any more than a slight annoyance.

“I need you to come pick me up, take me back to mine. My buddies dragged me out with them to get over, well, you know. Long story short, they are all shit-faced, none of them fucking coherent, and my god damn car service app isn’t working.” He sounds genuinely stressed. “My phones about to die as well, which is bloody fucking fantastic.” Matty grumbles into the phone.

You sit there, momentarily debating your options. You could leave him there, make him figure his shit out on his own. But you also have a soft spot for him after everything, knowing, if anything, he’s not the same person who deserted your friendship a few years ago. A deliberate exhale leaves your mouth, choosing the latter.

“Yeah, okay. Just text me your location before your phone dies. I’ll be there soon.” You hear him start to thank you, but you hang up quickly, not letting him get another word out. Deciding to keep your satin pajama shorts and bra on, you throw a hoodie over and slide on your sneakers. Groaning while grabbing your car keys off the kitchen island, you set off to your car, driving to Matty’s current location.

As you pull up to the bar, you recognize Matty leaning up against the wall, taking a long drag of his cigarette. Nothing has changed. You also notice none of his friends are anywhere to be seen. Odd. Driving up next to where Matty is standing, you roll down your window and his eyes catch yours.

“Long time no see, love.” Matty’s lips twist up into a smirk. Nothing. Has. Fucking. Changed. You watch him stub out his cigarette on the brick wall and toss it into the trash can by him. He climbs into your car shortly after. “Missed your face, thanks for coming to get me.”

Letting out an immediate scoff at his nonchalant behavior, you decide to ignore his comment. “So, Im taking you back to yours, right?”

You feel Matty’s eyes rake over your body, burning into your skin. You can smell some alcohol on him, though you know he’s not a big drinker, only having a glass or two of wine usually, and choosing to stick to his cigarettes or weed. He’s not drunk, so why is he looking at you like that.

“Of course, love.” He speaks lowly, eyes still stuck on you. You decide to disregard his use of the pet name and put your car into drive, pulling off onto the main road.

The drive to Matty’s house was maybe fifteen minutes at most, and yet it felt like an eternity with his eyes fixed on you. It’s almost like he couldn’t believe you actually came to pick him up, not being able to come to terms that you were finally seeing each other after two years.

Pulling up to Matty’s house brought back so many memories, and important moments you two had shared over the years of your friendship. His driveway led you to his front door, as you put your car in park, you finally glance over at Matty, who’s staring attentively. Under the glow of the exterior lights on his house, you notice he’s wearing tight black jeans, a dark belt, blank tank top, and a satin dress shirt. His long curly hair is slicked back slightly, with his sunglasses sitting on top of his head.

“Like what you see?” Matty implies cockily, eyes never leaving yours.

“It’s a fucking Monday.” You glare at him. “Why were you out on a fucking Monday, don’t you think you’re too old for this bullshit?” Continuing to ignore his playful comments, you squint your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest. You slightly feel bad for picking arguments with him, but his remarks are starting to make you feel some type of way.

Matty laughs out loud at your comment, the sudden deep laugh makes you jump a bit. “Lighten up a bit, love.” He nudges his elbow into your arm. You continue to frown at him, clearly not finding anything amusing. Matty falls silent, realizing how upset you actually are. “Look, why don’t you come inside? I can make you some tea, and we could watch a movie like old times?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, waiting on an answer.

Your eyes bore into his. “Fine.” Turning off your car, you and Matty step out, walking up to his front door. He unlocks his door and steps to the side, motioning for you to come in. You take off your sneakers and set them on the mat, walking over to his living room and sitting down on his massive couch. He joins you promptly, sitting right next to you, a little too close for the amount of spots he could’ve picked from.

“Still a little bratty? Huh?” He asks casually, not once looking up at you as he turns on his TV.

“Excuse me?” Your eyes widen at his sudden judgement.

“Bratty. You’ve always been a little brat, love. It’s cute, though. Never minded it. Some things just never change.” He chuckles to himself, shaking his head.

Can’t take it back once it’s been set in motion

Your mouth is agape, taken aback by his words, struggling to make a counter remark.

“I see no one’s ever tried putting you in your place yet.” Matty hums absentmindedly, setting the remote down and glancing over at your shocked face.

You know I love to rub it in like lotion.

Pink flushes on your cheeks and neck as you stare at him with wide eyes, unsure of what to say next. "I- what?" You stumble over your words, mouth suddenly dry.

Matty moves closer, invading any personal space you were clinging onto. His hand falls on your thigh, squeezing as he keeps his eyes locked on yours. "Oh, you heard me loud and clear, love. Don't play stupid now." He whispers, eyes flickering to your lips momentarily.

You lose the ability to speak, eyes unable to leave his. "Matty-" He cuts you off.

"C'mon darling, I saw how you were looking at me in the car, and how eager you were to come pick me up tonight, even after all this time"

I can see it clear as day.

The blush on your cheeks deepens as you feel his hot breath fan across your skin, creating goosebumps up your arms. You grab onto his forearm, putting your other hand on his chest, trying to keep a small distance between you two. Matty was very attractive, you couldn't deny it. But your inexperience was making you hesitate, unsure of how to handle his advances.

Before you could react, Matty reached his hand out and placed it on your cheek, the other still resting on your thigh, squeezing tighter than before. His face was only centimeters away from yours as he breathes out, "Tell me to stop and I will. But you don't want me too, do you, love?"

You don't really need a break.

You close your eyes tightly, feeling flustered at his words. A warmth growing in your stomach, an unfamiliar feeling. You think about pushing him off, but your body ached for him, not wanting to stop this. Without any more hesitation, you look back up at him, shaking your head slowly, an invitation for him to continue.

Wanna see what you can take.

At your permission, Matty crashes his lips against yours, moving the hand that was on your cheek down to your neck. You let out a small gasp at the contact. He takes this as a chance to deepen the kiss, taking up every part of your mouth with his. The grip on your thigh moves up, closer to your heat. His fingers play with the hem of your pajama shorts, pushing them up slightly, almost exposing your underwear. You let out a pathetic whine as he breaks the heated kiss.

"God, Ive wanted to do this for years, you have no idea." Matty grumbles out as he pulls off your hoodie swiftly, pushing you down to lay back against the arm rest. He hovers over you, pulling down your satin shorts slowly, eyes never breaking contact from yours. "You're so fucking pretty baby, my perfect girl." You blush at his words, letting out a soft groan. Feeling like a prey under the gaze of a predator, you fix your eyes on the ceiling, unable to look at him.

You should really run away.

Matty notices this, and reaches his hand out to grab at your chin, directing your attention back to him. "Don't you dare look away, keep your eyes on me, yeah?"

Your eyes meet his again, his pupils blown with lust. He looks at you with a stern look, asserting his dominance as you nod silently. Matty smirks at your obedience, and starts rubbing small circles on your heat. You moan louder this time at the friction, pushing your hips up against his hand.

Other people wouldn't stay. Other people don't obey.

"That's right, love. Does that feel good? Do you want more?" Matty's eyes stay trained on yours. You feel small under his gaze, yet enjoying how he towers over you, his chain dangling in front of your face. You clench your legs together as his fingers rub at your clit, growing wetter by the second.

Your stomach starts to tighten, already close to an orgasm. "Im close, please, I can't." You cry out, throwing your head back on the arm rest.

His fingers suddenly disappear from your clit, and you cry out from the sudden loss.

"Do I need to repeat myself? I told you to keep your eyes on me, yeah? Be a good girl for me, darling." Matty reiterates, moving his other hand up to your neck again, applying pressure but not fully cutting off your airway.

You nod feverishly, not wanting him to stop again. Your eyes pleading for forgiveness. Matty chuckles and reaches his hand back down, his fingers barely grazing your clit again as he pulls your underwear down your thighs, exposing your wet cunt to him. The cold air against your core makes you shudder, the contrast in temperature sending a wave of pleasure up your spine.

Matty watches your reaction intently, reveling in how it doesn't take much to get you worked up. He releases your neck from his grip and places his lips against your neck, searching for your pulse point. You expose your neck more, giving him silent permission to continue.

I wanna do bad things to you.

"God, you really are a desperate thing, aren't you love? Tell me where you want me." He murmurs into your neck, planting kisses and bites around the sensitive area as he rubs tight circles on your clit. You flush at his words, letting out a whimper.

"Anywhere, please." You beg him, jerking your hips up to create more friction again. He lets out a soft chuckle into your neck at this.

"Your wish is my command, darling," Matty smirks and pulls away from your neck. He begins to move down your body, trailing kisses until he reaches your cunt. He breathes out onto your heat, then swiftly attaches his lips to your clit, sucking hard. You cry out from the new feeling, body squirming with pleasure.

Matty hums against your pussy at the cry you let out, creating a vibrating sensation. Your hands grip at his head, your fingers curling into his hair and pulling. You keep your eyes on him as he flicks his tongue against your clit repeatedly, mouth hanging open in a silent moan.

"So fucking perfect for me." He mumbles, wrapping his hands around your legs, keeping them wide open for him. His tongue teases your tight hole, licking thick stripes wherever he could reach before his attention is drawn back to your clit, sucking persistently.

Your back arches off the couch, fingers gripping at his hair and pulling hard. "Matty, fuck, Im gonna come, fuck-" You stumble over your words, feeling your stomach tighten at his continued abuse against your cunt.

Matty pulls away momentarily, "Go ahead, darling. Be a good girl for me and come on my tongue, yeah?" He picks up speed, mercilessly sucking and circling his tongue on your pussy.

I wanna make you yell.

Your legs clench together, affectively trapping him against your core as your body tenses up. You throw your head back, letting out an obscenely loud moan as you feel your orgasm wash over your body. Your hips buck up into his mouth, feeling even more wetness pool where his mouth is. Matty moans against your cunt, sending aftershocks from your orgasm straight to your heat again.

"You taste fucking unbelievable, love," He grunts out. Your body twitches from overstimulation as he finishes cleaning you up with his tongue.

Matty pulls away, his lips red and wet. You look at him with heavy eyes, feeling almost drunk from your orgasm. He looks almost as wrecked as you. You are about to sit up and reach for him when you glance down and realize he's still hard, but he stops you.

"I know you're tired. You don't have to finish me off. Another time, okay?" Matty speaks lowly, keeping eye contact with you as he stands up and grabs a blanket from the basket near the coffee table. He sits on the edge of the couch next to you, wrapping you up in the fluffy blanket. You blink up at him, exhaustion washing over your body.

Matty stares down at you, giving you a look filled with an emotion you couldn't quite pinpoint. You sigh out, feeling his body press up next to yours. He pulls you into his arms tightly, brushing his fingers through your hair.

"Thank you for that." You admit your appreciation shyly, a content smile on your lips.

Matty grins down at you, "Of course, love. Anything for you." He runs his fingers through your hair, brushing the strands out of your face. Your eyes flutter shut, unable to fight the sleep coming over you this time.

my masterlist

requests are open! <3

#matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 smut #Spotify

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sugar-coat-it · 11 months ago

Text

Know It's For The Better

CW: Girlie is drunk!!

Fem! Reader

Contains: George’s younger sister! Reader, Matty taking care of drunk girlie, mutually secret pining, SICKLY amount of yearning, they’re so in love but so stupid :(, reader is turned down because she’s drunk, sad sad sad

WC: ~4,300

—----------------------------

You get too drunk and Matty comes to take care of you. The lines of a longtime friendship are blurred.

—----------------------------

“C’mon…” Matty mutters, keeping you supported with an arm under your shoulders as he leads you out of the bar.

“Matty? Matty, what are you doing here, you’re supposed to be… doing music…” you giggle, almost tripping over your own feet as you lean into him.

“Yeah, I should be doing music, but right now I’m looking out for you,” he says, shaking his head as you laugh at nothing in particular, “you really got yourself into a mess tonight, hm?”

“What do you mean?”

Your brows furrow as you look up at him, pouting like you still don’t fully understand why he’s here. Matty uses one hand to open his car door, the other firmly wrapped around you. He shoots you a look, his eyebrows almost raising high enough to meet his hairline. There are a few beats of silence like he’s allowing you a moment to realize how ridiculous the question is. Your blank stare tells him all he needs to know.

“I mean you’re plastered,” he sighs, helping you into the car seat, your lack of balance making it somewhat difficult.

“Ohh… yeah,” you nod in agreement that you are in fact plastered, shitfaced, sloshed, and whatever he’d like to call it.

You slump back against the seat as your eyes flutter shut, smiling to yourself as you relish in the warmth of being so totally wasted, the world spinning just slightly. Matty is silent as he rounds the car to get into the driver's seat, now reaching to strap in your seat belt. You crack your eyes open just enough to catch the clench of his jaw.

“Andrea told me on the phone that you begged her not to call your brother to come and get you. Which is why I’m here instead,” he explains, not seeming too impressed.

Right. Your brother, George. That was the last person you wanted to come and get you, already knowing the lecture that would come with it. You vaguely remember insisting that Andrea call Matty instead, knowing he’d take good care of you like he always has. He glances over at you to make sure you’re still upright as he starts his car, the engine rumbling to life with a purr.

The drive is quiet as you stare out of the windshield, watching the street lights streak across the night like they’re melting. His hand moves across the center console to turn on the radio, the station already being set to his favorite, indie classics. He never did like silence, Matty fills it any way he can.

“What were you drinking anyways, darling?” he asks, sounding more curious than patronizing.

You love that about Matty. He’s older than you and certainly protective of you, but he doesn’t always fault you for wanting to act your age, for doing something on the wilder side. Some might call it a bad influence, he prefers “learning from the best”.

“Umm,” you squint like you’re trying to remember what was in the shots, “tequila.”

“Tequila! Wow, you really went for it, didn’t you?” he chuckles before clicking his tongue, knowing damn well that you only drink tequila when you’re trying to crash and burn.

You frown, sensing a slightly frustrated lilt in his voice. Maybe you had actually gone too far this time. You shift your body to face him, your cheek smushed against the headrest. Your stomach lurches at the idea of him being upset with you, especially since you’d been tying yourself in knots since you were a teen to appeal to him, to be the kind of girl he would want. Suddenly, you’re 17 again and you’re staring at yourself in the mirror, picking apart every piece of yourself that you think he wouldn’t like. Over and over. Anything for him to notice you. Your face is illuminated ruby by the traffic lights, the car rolling to a stop. Matty drums his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the soft beat of the radio.

“Are you mad?” you mumble, your chin tilting down slightly as you struggle to keep your head up.

“Mad?” Matty echoes, his eyes snapping to you with a newfound softness, a vastness of gentle, honey brown, “No, no, I just- what got into you tonight?”

Relief washes over you like the gentlest wave, you know even if he was mad, he couldn’t stay that way, not when you’re draped over his passenger’s seat. You’re proudly self-proclaimed to be his weak spot, it’s always been that way. A dazed smile pulls at your lips at the confirmation, and he just playfully rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to the road.

“I dunno. Was just having fun,” you shrug, toying with the strap of your seatbelt.

Matty knows better, but he doesn’t push for more details. Not yet anyway. You can practically see his thoughts racing as he stares at the yellow lines of the street, his lips pressed into a thin line. But, he can pick your mind about why you got so drunk later, right now he’s trying to focus on the main task: getting you home and safely in bed. He’s already mentally mapping where you keep your Tylenol so he can leave some on your nightstand for you before he goes. Now comes the fun part as he parks his car in front of your apartment building, he gets to take you up the stairs. Joy.

It’s a slow process, Matty instructing you to hold on tight and “don’t fucking let go, you’ll crack your pretty head open”. You laugh like it’s the most well-crafted joke he’s ever told but still abide by his word. Your giggles ring through the stairwell, a bright sound like a melody to Matty’s ears. One step at a time, you make your way up the stairs, successfully keeping your head in one piece with his hold keeping you steady. When did he get so strong? You almost wish there were just a few more steps so his hands could stay on you, ringed fingers firmly pressed into your skin.

“Stay with me here, we’re gonna get you to bed, okay?” he reassures, looking over at you every couple of seconds.

“Nooo, wait, I don’t wanna go to bed. I’m not tired,” you complain, protesting with pursed, glossy lips.

“Not tired, huh? You were about seconds away from nodding off in the car,” he chuckles, giving your shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

He doesn’t bother with letting you aimlessly fish through your purse for your keys once you reach your front door, taking the bag from you to stick his hand in and retrieve them. Matty keeps you steadily at his side as he unlocks the door, slinging the strap of your purse over his shoulder. The door pushes open with a creak and he ushers you inside, the hand on your lower back sending a shiver skittering up your spine. He follows behind you, watching as you wobble your way to the couch instead of to your bedroom. He rakes a hand through his curls streaked with gray before pressing his fingers into his temples, knowing this night was going to be longer than expected. You drop down onto the cushions with your head tilted back, a lazy smile plastered on your face.

“Darling, bed is this way, you can’t sleep on the couch,” he says gently, placing your purse down on your coffee table.

You ignore him as he approaches you, instead frowning as you reach to soothe your fingers over the red marks marred into your heels from your shoes. Without missing a beat and without a word, Matty drops to his knees in front of you, batting your hands away from your feet. He carefully undoes the straps of your heels, nimble fingers grazing your skin. You can’t help but stare at the spectacle of Matty Healy being on his knees before you, his muss of curls shadowing his tired eyes as he works. He places both heels to the side after sliding them off, giving your knee a pat before he stands up to his full height. Immediately, you grasp the sleeve of his button-down shirt, like the thought of him being any further away is unbearable.

“Stay? Chat with me. I’d like to chat,” you suggest, your fingers curling into the crisp fabric.

“You’re unbelievable, really,” he mutters, shaking his head, “Fine. But we’re not falling asleep here, okay?”

You nod eagerly, you’d agree to any terms he set as long it meant he’d stay. Matty sits down next to you, allowing you to curl up against him with your head resting on his shoulder, your arms loosely around him. A tentative hand snakes up your back to your arm, holding you there as he stares forward, knowing his heart might burst if he looks down at you all cozied up to him. His thumb gently strokes up and down against your skin, like he’s confining himself from touching you any more than just that. Matty asks if he can get you anything, but you decline, not needing anything other than this moment. Who were you to ask for more?

The gentle rhythm is lulling you into a bit of a daze, but you force your eyes to stay open to have the privilege of gazing upon him when he’s so close. So warm. So real. You find yourself studying his features, half-lidded eyes searching his face.

“I think I’m jealous of you,” you admit, your voice low.

Matty lets out a gasping sort of laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners with mirth. What on earth were you on about?

“Jealous of me? Why?” he smiles, an amused glint in his eyes.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Matty’s expression changes, shifting into something you can’t quite read. His lips part with surprise, but his words catch in his throat. You move your head off of his shoulder to get a better view of him, reaching out slowly to cup his face as you shift your body. His hand on your arm keeps you steady, knowing you could easily topple over. You’ve never been so bold as to touch him this way in your whole life. Matty clears his throat, a crooked smile forming on his lips.

“Guys can’t be beautiful, sweetheart,” he says.

Oh, but they can. You’ve been quietly admiring his beauty for so long, how could he say such a thing? You’ve watched him change over time, seen him grow from a gangly, unsure, freckle-faced thing to a confident man who slicks back his unruly hair and wears button-down shirts instead of faded band tees. You thought every version of him was beautiful in his own way.

Silently, you take one of your hands and begin to trace the features of his face, delicately drawing your fingertips along the bridge of his nose, the slope of his forehead, and the slight rosy hue of his cheeks. Every bit of him is perfection to you. He opens his mouth like he’s about to question what you’re doing, his eyebrows drawing together, but he doesn’t make a sound. He just stares back at the focused look on your face, noticing your quiet wonderment, your gentle, sparkling adoration. It’s like you’re dissecting him, and it’s making him feel so exposed to you, like you’ve stripped him of everything right to his very soul. He tells himself that you’re just drunk, you don’t mean any of it, but that doesn’t change the way his heart is intensely thrumming against his ribs faster and faster. No one had ever touched him that way before, so delicately, and he certainly hadn’t expected to like it so much. He feels like he could melt right into the cushions. He loves you. Loves you loves you loves you.

You let out a satisfied hum as you finish, sliding your hands off of his cheeks and down onto his chest instead, absentmindedly drawing little swirls with your nails against his shirt. His body shudders just slightly at the feeling, a tingly sensation erupting under your touch.

“You done feeling up my face and shit?” he teases, trying to play off how you’ve just flustered him to his bones.

You just beam at him, haziness written all over your expression as you let your head drop to his shoulder again. You chat a little longer about trivial things, Matty keeping the conversations simple so you can keep up. He asks you if your favorite color is still the same as it was when you were younger. When you mutter out a “yes”, suddenly, it’s like his whole world has been painted with it. You smile to yourself that he even remembered. His fingers gently trail up and down your arm, almost like his fingertips are ghosting over your skin. A few beats of silence pass before Matty goes for the heart of the issue, the question like a bucket of water over your head.

“Are you gonna tell me why you actually got so wasted?” he murmurs, glancing at you through the corner of his eye.

“... Was just feeling… sorta lonely, or something. Sorry for myself, and all that,” you sigh, not entirely sure why you’re telling him something that sounds so pathetic, but your words are tumbling out faster than you can process them.

Matty hums thoughtfully, feeling as you bury yourself further into his neck, like you’re trying to hide from him, from reality. He knows he’s dampening your fun a little, reminding you of why it all happened, but he just couldn’t leave it alone, not when he knew you were hurting. You distract yourself by drawing small, languid swirls on his chest, the beat of his heart keeping you grounded.

“What happened? I thought you were fiercely independent. A one-woman show,” he snickers, thinking back to the exasperation he was met with when he’d asked why you were still single (“I don’t need a boyfriend to be happy, Matty. I have aspirations, you know. I’m focused on more important things,” you’d preached.)

When you say nothing in response, the realization creeps up on him that teasing you isn’t the right approach at the moment. Clearly, even you weren’t above the lamentations of the heart. You didn’t need a jab at how your fierce independence was what led you to bed alone every night. He swallows thickly, as if literally swallowing his pride before he speaks again, his tone laced with what you could only label as tenderness from the normally brash man.

“What’s been on your mind?”

“I’m gonna fucking die alone,” you groan, covering your face with your hands, having totally forgotten that you were wearing makeup.

He stifles a laugh, both at how you’ve smudged your eyeliner and because of your intoxicated overreaction. Obviously, this wasn’t a joke to you, and he needed to get this right. He raises his hand slowly, brushing stray strands of hair away from your face. Your stomach swoops, you swear you’ve seen this in a dream before.

“You’re a lovely girl, sweetheart. Anyone who doesn’t see that is either stupid or blind. You’ll find what you’re looking for, and you won’t die alone, silly,” he says, punctuating the word “silly” with a poke to your side.

A lovely girl. He thought you were a lovely girl. One that wouldn’t die alone. That’s… comforting, you suppose, even if it’s in an odd way. Part of you wonders if you’ll die with your feelings for him held close to your chest. The other part isn’t sure if you could truly hide it that long, or if your devotion would spill from your clutches like water between your fingers. Would he drink it from your palms if it did?

“Do you ever get lonely, Matty?” you ask in return, your words slightly slurred.

Matty pauses. Seemingly, he didn’t expect this to be turned around on him. He makes an awkward “erm” sound as he evaluates the question. With countless adoring fans, many of them being gorgeous women, how could he ever feel alone? It wouldn’t make any sense. So why does the void never go away? Why does coming home after throwing himself into his work at the studio feel so totally melancholic? He’s supposed to be living his dream.

“I suppose sometimes I do. But that’s just being human, innit?” he shrugs, ignoring the pang in his chest.

Your fingers pause their patterns, stilling on his shirt. You allow your hand to press flat over his heart, feeling it thrum under your palm. What if this was it? You’re both lonely and after all, he just said he thinks you’re lovely. Urges rattle at the back of your mind, you’re replaying every single moment that he’s looked at you a little too long, every time that his touch created sparks from a lingering brush. It had to all have been real, you weren’t crazy. Your head is swimming, you’re moving before you can even fully process it, and it feels like the room is tilting with your body. With your hands on his shoulders, you wobble as you lift one leg over his lap to straddle him. Matty’s eyes go wide, he hastily reaches out and grasps your hips, trying to keep you steady. You feel like you’re burning up from the inside, you can only think about him, his cologne, his calloused fingertips, his mouth, his tattooed skin. Hot, liquid need is consuming you, eroding any bit of rationality left.

“We could help each other, y’know?” you suggest, your voice dripping with implication.

Matty glances down at your lips for a moment, but he tears his eyes away just as quickly as if he’d been burned. He looks stunned, his body totally rigid against the couch as his fingers dig into your hips, his blunt nails biting at your skin through your clothes. You look like a wet dream perched on his lap like that, but the very idea of this continuing when you were in this state made Matty’s stomach churn. He shakes his head, swallowing hard as he starts to speak, his voice strained as he tries to reason with you.

“Darling, listen to me-”

“No one would have to know. George wouldn’t know, it could be… it could be a secret,” you interrupt, biting your lip as you speak in a hushed voice.

The reminder of your brother’s existence just added to the urgency of getting you off of his lap. Hell, he’d probably wring Matty’s neck just for not immediately taking you to your room and promptly leaving. He didn’t want you to be a secret like you were some kind of dirty indulgence for him. No, you didn’t deserve that, and it frankly broke his heart that you would let him treat you that way.

“No. We can’t,” he asserts, his tone coming out much firmer.

Many people think “heartache” is just an expression, but they’ve never felt the actual squeeze in their chest. A sobering rush goes straight to your head as your heart clenches, shame flooding your body. You loosen your hold on his shoulders, letting your hands drop to your sides. You take a shuddering breath, stammering something that neither of you can decipher because of how scrambled your thoughts are. Part of you wants to beg, to tell him you’ll be the best he’d ever had if he let you. But you don't, you let everything come crashing down around you.

“You’re drunk, you’re not thinking straight. I absolutely will not take advantage of that,” Matty says softly, watching your face drop.

“But- but I… I just wanted to… wanted you…”

“I know.”

Matty gently slides you off of his lap, feeling like the biggest monster in the world. He knows he’s doing exactly what he should, but the look on your face has guilt gnawing at his insides. Silence settles over the two of you like a layer of snow, you wrap your arms around your body to shield yourself from its frigidity. He’s about to apologize, to tell you how much he’d love to quell your loneliness another time but you speak first, your voice shockingly even, like you hadn’t had a drop to drink.

“Can you just take me to my room?”

He’s quiet for a moment before nodding, sensing your almost palpable embarrassment and regret. Matty gets up off of the couch first, reaching his hands out to you to help you up. It feels bittersweet to take them as you stand, finding his touch both comforting and sickening. You want him near but also want him as far away as possible, it’s like the push and pull of the cruelest magnet.

He helps you sit down on your bed, your little black dress starkly standing out against your soft white sheets. You have a faraway look on your face, and Matty has no clue what to say or do to make any of this better. He knows he can’t pick up the pieces, but he slowly reaches out to rub away some of the mascara that’s smudged under your eyes. You’re trying your hardest to bite back tears, shaking your head as he asks you if you want to change or take off your makeup. You don’t know how to describe the feeling in your stomach as anything other than disgusting. You just want to sleep and forget.

“Oh, my dear…” he murmurs sympathetically, “I’ll let you get some rest, okay?” You find yourself a little panicked at the idea of him leaving your side, automatically grasping his arms. You coax him closer, despite the shame biting at your ankles, nipping at your skin. Quietly, he understands. He eases himself into your bed next to you, letting you curl up at his side, your head on his chest. You feel it rise and fall under your cheek with each breath. Slowly, your body becomes less rigid as you let yourself melt into him. Exhaustion is seeping in, but this time the physical kind.

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” you whisper, letting out a humorless chuckle at your expense.

“And why wouldn’t I be here?”

“Because I’m a mess. And I threw myself at you.”

Matty smiles softly, letting out an amused exhale through his nose. You’re laying there wondering how he isn’t repulsed by you, and he’s gazing down at you thinking about how beautiful you look in this light.

“You’re just drunk and a bit lonely. Nothing to kick yourself over, sweetheart, we’ve all been there. You were only bein’ a little affectionate.”

“Affectionate? I was trying to jump your bones.”

He laughs at that, a loud, uproarious noise that’s completely unmelodic, and yet it’s your favorite sound. His chest rumbles with his barking laughter under your cheek and you find yourself smiling, just a little. You can’t help it, even when it almost hurts to breathe. As his chuckles subside, he begins stroking your hair, running his fingers through the unruly strands. Your eyelids are getting heavier, it’s as if time is moving in slow motion, dragging on to an unceremonious stop. You’d daydreamed about falling asleep in his arms, but not like this. On the brink of slipping into sleep, your heart begins to pour out in a delirious confession.

“I know you'll never see me the way I see you. But that's okay. I can quietly admire you. I just want you to be happy. Even if that's with somebody else," you mumble.

You don't know why you’re doing this. You can hardly think straight. You just love him. You’ve loved and wanted him for too long. Longer than anyone should have to bear.

“What are you talking about?” he whispers, his smile fading.

"You know what I mean," you continue, the stream of consciousness making you feel somewhat lighter, "you're gonna... you're gonna marry a model... and be happy... and I'll find something... and I'll be fine.”

What you’re saying doesn’t make much sense to him, but it pulls him apart regardless. He can’t help but feel sick to his stomach that you don’t see yourself in his future. Matty gives you a soft squeeze, staring at the top of your head as you barely cling to consciousness. He wants to tell you how he feels so badly, it’s killing him. Everything inside is screaming at him to confess, but he can’t, not when you might not even remember it. He decides this will have to suffice.

“Sweetheart, I promise you, I would not be happy in that scenario. Not without you.”

“What?” you mutter, sounding dazed.

Well, sure, you’ll be there. You’ll go visit him in his house that’s far bigger than necessary and force a smile when you greet his impossibly beautiful wife. But… the way he said it… no. You shouldn’t delude yourself any further.

“Look, you need some rest. We can talk about this later, yeah?” Matty sighs, burying his nose in your hair as he kisses the top of your head.

“Yeah. Okay.”

You feel sleep’s forgiving embrace wrap her arms around you. If you’re lucky, maybe you've drunk enough so you won’t remember any of this in the morning. Blissfully unaware, you wouldn’t have to carry this weight. Whatever happens to you, you know it’s for the better.

Before you truly drift off, you say one last thing. Barely audible, but just loud enough to drive a dagger through Matty’s heart.

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

It’s like the air has been crushed from his lungs. You’ve left him alone with his rampant thoughts, his regrets. God, how he wishes this could have gone differently. After some time, he hears your breathing slow into a quiet steady rhythm, signaling that you’re sound asleep. Then, and only then does he softly speak into the silence of the night.

“I love you too.”

——————————————————————

… sorry?

Thank you to my lovely birthday twin Mads (@toomuchracket ) for previewing the early draft of this!!! Dedicated to you, I hope it’s half as good as your angst <3 <3

#matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy imagine #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy x y/n

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cryiingoutloud · 17 days ago

Text

☽〝 God has entered my body — matty healy!reader.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You weren’t supposed to end up alone with Matty Healy in a church-turned-recording-studio, especially not late at night. Especially not wrapped in his hoodie with his breath on your neck.

But there’s a confessional booth in the corner. And he wants to know what you’d say inside it.

What you’ve thought about.

What you’d let him do.

And once you start confessing—he won’t stop until he’s on his knees, dragging every filthy, aching, perfect sound out of you.

This isn’t forgiveness.

It’s worship.

warnings: NSFW / 18+ only. submissive reader. dominant matty. oral (f. receiving). finger fucking. confessional booth smut (yes, really). voice kink. degradation&praise. religious imagery kink. power play. consent-focused but dark-edged. filthy as hell (literally).

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

It was colder than you expected.

Even inside, the air still clung to the bones of the old church. The kind of chill that slipped into your sleeves and made your skin prickle. You rubbed your arms as you walked through the main hall, boots echoing against the cracked stone floor.

This was where he made music now.

A hundred years ago, this was where people knelt and whispered prayers. Now the pews were shoved aside to make room for cables, guitars, ashtrays, and a tangled nest of sound equipment. Candles burned low in stained glass sconces. A half-empty bottle of red sat next to an ancient Bible, warped and dust-covered.

The only thing that hadn’t changed? The confessional booth in the far corner. Still intact. Still ominous.

It was beautiful, in a strange way. Sacred and desecrated all at once.

You dropped your bag beside a couch and sat, sinking into it like you hadn’t slept in days.

Matty was somewhere in the back. You heard music faintly playing—a loop of something half-finished. Low drums, ambient noise, a few clipped guitar chords. It sounded like him: moody, hungry, and a little fucked up.

You weren’t strangers. Not exactly.

You’d met through mutual friends last year at a party in London. There’d been alcohol. Banter. A cigarette passed between your lips and his. He’d said something smart and cruel and made you laugh so hard you spilled wine on your shirt. He never apologized for staring.

Since then, it had been the occasional dms, a drunken call at 1am you ignored, a photo he reacted to with just the eye emoji. A few missed connections. A few near-kisses.

And now, this.

Jamie had said you could stay at the studio for a few nights while you figured out your next move. You hadn’t realized Matty would be the only one here. That the “studio” was this fucking place. That he’d look like that when he opened the door—shirtless, dazed, voice thick from whiskey and sleeplessness.

You hadn’t said much.

Neither had he.

But the way his eyes had flicked down your body like a slow lick told you everything you needed to know.

Now, hours later, the music stopped.

You looked toward the hallway.

Footsteps.

Then he appeared.

Leaning in the archway, cigarette hanging from his lips, curls messy, hoodie zipped halfway down over his bare chest.

“You comfortable?” he asked.

You nodded. “Kinda freezing.”

He grinned, stepped forward, and tossed a blanket at you. “It’s a church. Cold as God’s cunt.”

You snorted. “You’re disgusting.”

“I know.” He sat beside you, not touching, but close. “You staying up?”

You shrugged. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

He looked at you for a long moment. Then: “Want a drink?”

You hesitated. “One.”

The wine was cheap and lukewarm, poured into mismatched mugs. He didn’t offer a glass, and you didn’t ask for one.

You sat cross-legged on the old couch, swaddled in a blanket that smelled faintly like him—tobacco, cedar, something darker. Matty lounged beside you, one arm hooked lazily over the backrest, fingers tapping absently against the upholstery like he was counting seconds.

The church hummed with silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just charged.

“So,” he said, lighting another cigarette. “Why’d you really come?”

You looked at him over your mug. “Jamie said I could crash here.”

“Yeah, but you could’ve picked his place. Or any of the others. You picked mine.”

You shrugged. “It’s not like that.”

He gave you a long look. “Isn’t it?”

You took a sip, let the wine coat your tongue before swallowing. “Are you always this suspicious?”

“Only when I want to fuck someone.”

You almost choked.

He didn’t laugh. He just smirked, slow and dangerous, eyes still on you like he was waiting for something. A flinch. A retreat. But you held your ground.

“Then you’re either paranoid,” you said, “or projecting.”

“Oh, I’m definitely projecting.” He leaned in just slightly, voice dropping. “Don’t worry. I won’t touch you. Not unless you ask me to.”

There it was. The line.

Not crossed. Just drawn. Daring you to step over.

You shifted under the blanket. Your skin felt tight, flushed. He hadn’t even moved, and you were already thinking about his hands. His mouth. What he’d do if you asked him.

You didn’t say anything.

He let the silence stretch, like he liked the tension.

“You cold?” he asked eventually, softer.

You nodded.

“Come here, then.”

You looked at him.

He patted the space between his legs. “Just for warmth. Promise.”

You stared.

Then moved.

You settled with your back against his chest, blanket still around you both, the heat of his body immediate and dizzying. His thighs bracketed yours. His arms didn’t wrap around you—but they almost did. You could feel the ghost of a touch, just there, just waiting.

“Better?” he murmured near your ear.

You nodded.

“Good girl.”

The words sent a shock through you. You didn’t respond. Couldn’t. He didn’t say anything else either, just exhaled slowly, letting the moment sit.

The candles flickered. Somewhere, a pipe groaned in the walls. You heard the faint click of his lighter as he lit another cigarette and breathed in deep.

Then—

“Can I ask you something?” His voice was low, casual, like he was asking what time it was.

“Yeah.”

“You ever think about fucking in a church?”

Your breath caught.

You felt him smile against the back of your neck.

“No judgment,” he said. “Just curious.”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because you looked at that confessional booth like it owed you something.” He paused. “And because you’re letting me hold you like this, and your pulse is going nuts.”

You didn’t answer.

He let the silence hang, then added, “I think about it sometimes.”

You swallowed hard. “Yeah?”

He nodded against your shoulder. “Yeah. Not in the ‘naughty Catholic schoolgirl’ way. More like… I dunno. The idea of someone being that turned on in a place like this. Whispering filth where people used to pray. Makes you wonder what gets people off, doesn’t it?”

You shifted in his lap. He noticed.

“You’re wet, aren’t you?” he said, voice velvet-soft.

Your cheeks burned. “Matty—”

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s just us. No one’s listening. Not even Him.”

You should’ve pulled away.

Instead, you let your head fall back against his shoulder.

His hand came up slowly, fingertips brushing your jaw. Just that—soft, featherlight—but it made you shiver.

“Tell me something,” he said. “Something no one else knows.”

You bit your lip.

“I…” Your voice was barely audible. “I touch myself to things I’d never admit.”

He stilled behind you.

“Go on.”

You shut your eyes. “Sometimes… I think about being told what to do. Made to do things I shouldn’t want.”

He was quiet for a beat.

Then: “What kind of things?”

You shook your head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” he said, firmer now. “Say it.”

You hesitated.

“I think about being watched. Told to strip. Told to beg.” You exhaled. “Sometimes I think about being in a place like this. On my knees. Told to confess everything.”

You felt his cock twitch behind you. Hard. Real.

He let out a shaky laugh. “You’re fucking killing me.”

You turned your head slightly, looked at him over your shoulder.

His eyes were dark. Blown.

“I want to show you something,” he said.

He didn’t wait for your reply.

He stood, took your hand, and led you across the cold stone floor—barefoot, in his hoodie and joggers, candlelight dancing across his face—toward the confessional booth.

He opened the door and stepped inside.

Then looked back at you.

“Come on, sweetheart.”

Your heart hammered.

You stepped in.

The door creaked shut behind you.

The wood creaked beneath you as you sat, the small bench barely wide enough to hold your thighs. It was tight in the booth. Close. Lit only by the flickering glow of candles outside, leaking through the cracks.

Matty shut his side of the booth gently.

You couldn’t see him—just a silhouette through the tiny screen between you. But you could hear him. Breathing slow. Steady.

“You okay?” he asked, softly.

You nodded. Then remembered he couldn’t see you. “Yeah.”

“You sure? You can leave anytime. Just say the word.”

You swallowed. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Good.” His voice deepened, a slow shift. “Then we’re not playing anymore.”

You froze.

“Say it,” he murmured. “Say we’re not playing.”

“We’re not playing.”

“Atta girl.”

Silence again. Except for your pulse, thudding in your ears.

“Do you know what this booth is for?” he asked, slow and smooth.

You nodded again. “Confession.”

“Exactly. You come in here to admit what you’ve done. And what you want to do.” A pause. “So let’s start there.”

You licked your lips. “Start where?”

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

You hesitated.

“Tell the truth,” he said, softer now. “That’s what this is for.”

You exhaled shakily. “I want you.”

A quiet chuckle behind the screen. “Yeah? You’ve got me.”

“No,” you said. “I want you to tell me what to do. I want to not have to think. I want to be told where to put my hands. When to open my legs. When to come.”

A sharp inhale from his side. “Jesus Christ.”

“I want you to use me,” you whispered. “Just for a little while.”

The silence stretched.

Then, softly: “Take off your panties.”

Your breath caught.

“Right now. In the booth. And don’t make me say it again.”

You moved slowly, hands trembling as you reached beneath the hem of your dress, fingers curling around the waistband. You slid them down, legs shifting, panties dragging over your thighs, your calves, until they dropped to the floor in a soft heap.

Matty exhaled hard.

“Are you bare now?”

“Yes.”

“Open your legs.”

You hesitated.

He didn’t.

“Wider.”

You obeyed.

“Fuck.” His voice was barely more than a breath now. “You wet already?”

“…Yes.”

“Show me.”

You paused. “I—what?”

“Put two fingers in,” he said. “Let me hear it.”

Your hand trembled as you slid it between your thighs. The moment your fingers touched your cunt, you gasped—soaked. Your fingers slipped in easily, wet and hot.

You let out a soft whimper.

“Atta girl. Just like that.”

You could hear him shifting on his side, the sound of his breath getting faster. The edge in his voice sharpened.

“Now rub that messy little clit for me. Slowly. I want to hear how desperate you are.”

You obeyed, hips twitching as your fingers circled your clit in tight, slow spirals. The pressure was unbearable, the tension from earlier tightening into something sharp, something electric.

“You ever fucked yourself in a confessional before?”

“No,” you breathed.

“You ever shown anyone how you come?”

You moaned softly. “No.”

“Good,” he said, voice turning darker. “I want to ruin it for everyone else. I want to be the only one who knows what you look like when you’re about to fall apart.”

You were panting now. Heat building. Muscles twitching.

“Faster,” he said. “Sloppier. Don’t be polite about it. I want you to fuck yourself like you’re ashamed of how bad you need it.”

You did.

You rubbed faster, breathless, hips rolling against your own hand like you were chasing something violent. Something sinful. You felt dirty. Wrong. Perfect.

“Are you close, baby?”

“Yes—please—”

“Not yet,” he snapped. “Take your hand off.”

You let out a broken cry. “No—please, Matty—please—”

“I said off. Now.”

You pulled your fingers away, thighs shaking, cunt pulsing around nothing.

“You listen so fucking well,” he murmured. “God, I love how obedient you get when you’re this wet.”

You whimpered.

“Open the door.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Open. My. Door.”

Your hand moved without thinking, reaching for the latch on his side. It creaked open—and he was already on his knees in front of you.

Dark curls messy. Mouth parted. Eyes wild.

“You did so good, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Now let me give you what you deserve.”

He leaned in.

You gasped as his mouth met your thigh, soft and wet, tongue dragging up slowly.

Then higher.

Then home.

Matty didn’t start with your cunt.

That would’ve been too easy.

He kissed the inside of your thigh like it was holy, like he was memorizing it. Lips dragging along your skin, breath hot and uneven. His hands gripped your knees and pushed them further apart, spreading you wide like a fucking offering.

And he looked.

Really looked.

“Fuck me,” he breathed. “You’re soaked. It’s dripping, sweetheart.”

You squirmed under his stare, but his grip tightened.

“No. You stay open for me. Let me see what a filthy little thing you really are.”

He moved in slowly, lips so close to your cunt you could feel the heat of his breath, but he still didn’t touch you where you needed him.

“You teased yourself so pretty in there,” he murmured, licking his lips. “All pink and swollen. Just aching for it.”

“Please, Matty…”

He smirked.

“‘Please,’” he mocked, dragging a knuckle up your slit—barely grazing—just enough to make you twitch. “You think begging’s gonna make me merciful?”

You whimpered. “No—”

“Good. Because I’m not.”

And then his mouth was on you.

No slow build-up. No testing the waters. Just devouring.

His tongue flattened against your clit, hot and slick, then circled it in tight, maddening spirals. He moaned into you like he was fucking starving, like the taste of your pussy was better than any high he’d ever had—and he’d had plenty.

You cried out, hips jerking, but he grabbed them, slammed them back down against the bench, and growled, “Don’t fucking move. You take it.”

You obeyed, panting, legs trembling around his shoulders.

“That’s it,” he muttered between licks. “Be a good little mess for me.”

His fingers slid up your slit, teasing your entrance, and you clenched down empty, desperate for him.

“God, you’re tight,” he hissed. “Bet you’d choke on my fucking fingers.”

You couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.

He pushed one in.

Then two.

They slid in easy—your cunt so wet, so desperate, that it welcomed him with a filthy squelch. He groaned.

“Listen to that,” he said, fucking you with slow, deep strokes. “You hear how wet you are? How your pussy’s singing for me?”

You were already close.

The pressure was unbearable—his mouth sucking your clit, tongue flicking just right, fingers curling inside you like he was tuning you to the perfect frequency.

“Matty—fuck—please, I’m gonna—”

“No, you’re not.”

He pulled back.

You sobbed, cunt clenching around nothing, thighs shaking.

“Why—why—”

“Because I said so.”

He looked up at you, mouth and chin slick with your mess. He licked his lips slow, eyes locked on yours.

“You don’t come until I say. You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“Then earn it.”

He dove back in.

This time was worse. Better. Brutal.

He fucked you with his fingers hard and fast now, angling just right, mouth latching onto your clit and sucking—sloppy, obscene, relentless. You were gasping, twitching, clawing at the sides of the booth, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes.

“You gonna fall apart for me?” he growled, voice vibrating through your cunt.

“Yes—yes, please, Matty, please—”

“Then fucking do it.”

And you did.

You came with a scream, body locking up, muscles convulsing as pleasure ripped through you. It was violent. Messy. Your cunt gushed around his fingers, your thighs trembled against his head, your voice broke into something raw and high and real.

He didn’t stop.

He licked you through it, groaning like he couldn’t get enough. His fingers fucked you through every aftershock, wet and filthy and perfect.

When he finally pulled back, his face was wrecked—mouth red and glistening, hair sticking to his forehead, eyes blown wide.

He looked at you like you were fucking sacred.

“You just came like it was your first time,” he said, voice hoarse.

You couldn’t speak.

“Let me tell you something,” he added, crawling up between your legs, face inches from yours. “I’ve played a lot of dirty games in my life.”

He kissed the side of your mouth.

“But that?”

He kissed your jaw.

“That was fucking divine.”

Your legs were still open.

Panties forgotten on the floor. Dress rucked up to your waist. Breathing ragged.

Matty didn’t move at first. Just rested his head on your thigh, arms draped over your hips, face still pressed close to the mess he made. Like he was claiming it. Or catching his breath. Or maybe both.

You ran your fingers slowly through his curls, still dazed. “Jesus Christ.”

He laughed. Low and hoarse. “He wasn’t invited.”

You huffed a shaky laugh, your head falling back against the wooden panel behind you. The booth creaked under both your weights, like it might give out at any second. Fitting, really.

Matty finally looked up.

His mouth was wet. His cheeks flushed. But his eyes—those fucking eyes—were soft. Something unreadable curling in them.

“Come here,” he said, voice rough around the edges.

You blinked. “What?”

“Let me hold you for a second. Don’t make it weird.”

You didn’t argue.

You slid off the bench, your legs jelly, your body still twitching with aftershocks. He caught you easily, helped you down, guided you into his lap with an ease that made your throat tighten. Like he’d done this before. Like he knew what to do with you.

You curled into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you, one hand rubbing your spine in lazy circles. For a long time, neither of you spoke.

Your breath synced up slowly. His heartbeat thudded under your cheek.

“You okay?” he asked, voice softer now.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Did I push too far?”

You looked up at him. “No. You… you asked.”

“I did.” He smiled a little, but there was something behind it—something unsure. “Just making sure.”

You paused. “Why’d you stop me the first time?”

He raised a brow.

“In the booth. When I was close. You said no.”

Matty exhaled, looking at the stained-glass window across the room. “Because I wanted to take it from you myself. Not let you give it to your fingers. That make sense?”

You nodded, a slow flush spreading in your chest.

He looked back at you. “I wanted to ruin it my way.”

You smiled. “Mission accomplished.”

He laughed, bright and boyish. Then leaned in and kissed you. Slow. Deep. Tasting of you and smoke and wine. It wasn’t filthy. It wasn’t rushed. It was just… real.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. “You’re dangerous, you know.”

“You’re the one who dragged me into a confessional.”

“And you followed.”

You grinned. “Like a lamb to slaughter.”

He raised a brow. “You don’t look very slaughtered. You look smug.”

“I look satisfied.”

He laughed again. “Same thing.”

The candlelight flickered. Somewhere in the building, the ancient pipes groaned again. You sat there, tangled up with him on the cold stone floor of an abandoned church-turned-studio, bare and spent and weightless.

Eventually, he said, “Stay the night.”

You looked at him.

He shrugged. “Don’t read into it. Just stay. Warm bed, clean sheets. Minimal sin.”

You smirked. “Minimal?”

“Well.” He leaned in again, nipped at your bottom lip. “Depends if you’re still wet in the morning.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks flushing. “You’re awful.”

“I know,” he murmured. “And you fucking love it.”

#matty healy #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy imagine #matty healy smut #oneshot #smut #the 1975 smut #matty healy x you #matty the 1975 #blasphemy #gothicerotica

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didyoulookforme · 4 months ago

Text

walkabout

your teacher asks you to tutor none other than matty healy. the very beginning of the bf matty au.

warning: cheesy fluff. teenagers being dramatic. grammatical errors, typos.

au masterlist here

-----

you cannot believe your luck.

of all the people mr. davis could assign you to tutor, it has to be matty healy. matty, who sits at the back of the classroom, half-asleep, drumming on the desk like he’s got an entire band in his head. the boy who’s always late, looking as if he just rolled out of bed. the one everyone can’t stop whispering about. quiet, untouchable, with that mess of hair and a permanent slouch that somehow makes him even more infuriatingly attractive to every single girl in school.

“so, you’ll do it, yeah?” mr. davis asks, holding you both back after class, his tone practically daring you to argue. his eyes flick between the two of you, clearly expecting some kind of protest.

no. absolutely not. you want to say, mr. davis, i will do literally anything else. mop the floors. clean the whiteboards. just, please, don’t make me do this.

but instead, you say, “of course,” because that’s what good students do, isn’t it?

mr. davis turns to matty, who, by the way, hasn’t even looked at you once. not even a glance. “and you? will you actually show up?”

“yeah. sure.” matty shrugs, voice low, casual, not impolite exactly but not making any promises either.

when you leave the classroom, your brain is spinning. how is this your life now? you spend the rest of the day picturing every way this could go wrong. matty showing up late or not at all. matty being too quiet, distant, barely meeting your eyes. matty fidgeting in his seat, counting the minutes until he can leave, not paying attention whatsoever.

and after school, you unload all your frustration onto your friend, desperate for a shred of sympathy. but really, you should’ve known better.

“shut the fuck up.”

her voice slices through the air, sharp and disbelieving. she’s already sitting up, magazine abandoned, eyes wide like you’d just confessed you were moving to mars. “are you serious?”

“unfortunately,” you groan, covering yourself with your favourite pillow, your words coming out muffled. “apparently, someone thinks i’m a miracle worker who can make him care about school.”

“holy shit.” she leans forward, her grin stretching wider by the second. you can feel it without even looking. “you’re kidding. matty fucking healy?”

“yes.” you drag the pillow over your face wishing it could block out her inevitable reaction. “he doesn’t even try in class. now i’m supposed to magically make him care about algebra?”

“oh, who gives a flying fuck about algebra!” she waves a hand dismissively. “you’re gonna be sitting across from him. alone. for an hour. every week. that’s… basically the fucking dream.”

“oh my god,” you collapse further into the bed hoping the worn sheets beneath can provide some sort of comfort. “you’re delusional.”

“no, you’re delusional if you think this isn’t fate.” she’s practically vibrating with excitement now. “you have to find out everything about him.”

“he’s not some alien experiment,” you deadpan, lifting your head just enough to glare at her. “he’s just a guy who probably can’t add fractions.” still, the thought lingers. maybe you do want to know more. just a little. not because you care, obviously, but because it’s… curious. infuriatingly so.

“and yet, he’s also the hottest guy in school. don’t even try to deny it.”

you hesitate. she’s not wrong, exactly, but you can’t admit that out loud.

“there’s no—”

“don’t.” she cuts you off like a stern teacher catching a student mid-lie. “i know you. i remember. you had the biggest crush on him.”

you can’t help that your face burns instantly. “that was years ago.”

“doesn’t matter,” she sings songs, her grin practically glowing. “you were obsessed. you used to be like, ‘oh my god, matty’s curls looks so soft’ and ‘did you see how he dressed today?’ you were embarrassing.”

“i was twelve.” your voice cracks, too defensive, maybe too high-pitched. “it doesn’t count.”

“oh, it absolutely counts.” she leans closer, “plus, you’re really flustered right now.”

“i’m not!”

“you so are.” the smile plastered on her face is absolutely wicked now. “you still like him, don��t you?”

your stomach warps into knots. “jesus christ, no!” you practically shout, burying your face in your hands.

“sure,” she drags the word out. “but just so you know, louise totally made out with him at that party last month.”

your head snaps up so fast you’re pretty sure you strain something. “what?”

“uh-huh.” she looks far too pleased with herself. “she said he’s, like, weirdly good at it.”

“matty healy?” those two words don’t even make sense in your mouth and brain anymore.

“apparently, he’s super eager and… sweet. can you imagine? matty fucking healy being cute?”

you snort, because no. you can’t.

“right? same. but louise swears it’s true. she said he kept pulling her closer and saying, ‘is this okay?’ and ‘you’re really pretty.’”

your gut twists again, this awful, fluttery thing you refuse to acknowledge.

“you’re so full of shit.”

“she’s full of shit,” she corrects, laughing. “but honestly? if it’s true, it makes him even more confusing. how can someone be broody and sweet? pick a fucking lane.”

and there it is again. that thought you don’t want to have. matty healy. sweet. yup.

he barely talks to anyone, always hunched over a notebook or sketching weird little patterns on the edges of his papers. he’s quiet in this intense, self-contained way, like he doesn’t want anyone seeing too much. he doesn’t seem like the type to ask ‘is this alright?’ or let alone call someone pretty.

but what if he is? what if there’s something softer under all the sharp edges, something he keeps hidden on purpose? what if—

no. fucking. way. it’s ridiculous. you shove the thought down, locking it in the imaginary safe inside your brain. plus, he’s probably never even thought about you twice.

“he’s not like that,” you say finally, more to yourself than to her.

“oh, yeah?” she raises an eyebrow, daring you to argue. “guess you’ll find out, won’t you?”

“jesus christ, stop it.” you grab the nearest cushion and launch it at her, but she just laughs, catching it before it hits her face.

“hey, i’m just saying,” her grin is downright evil now. “if he’s a good kisser, you’re practically obligated to confirm it.”

“get out,” you groan, flopping back down.

but even as you bury your face back in the pillow, you can’t stop thinking about it.

what if she wasn’t wrong?

—

by the time the first session rolls around, your nerves are a complete wreck. your hands are clammy, you feel a bit lightheaded, and you’re already regretting every decision that’s led you here. the library is practically dead; just the low buzz of those ancient fluorescent lights and the occasional shuffle of someone flipping a page somewhere in the distance. it smells strange, this weird mix of dusty books and that lemony floor cleaner that somehow always feels sticky no matter how fresh it is.

your swear your bag is a million pounds, stuffed to the brim with textbooks and notes you’re not even sure will matter. every step toward the back of the room seems slower than the last, as if your feet are trying to talk you out of this whole thing. but you press on, your heart hammering, every instinct screaming to spin around and hide in the safety of the nearest aisle.

he’s already there when you stumble around the corner, looking exactly how you expected. his hair’s a reckless mess, all careless pieces falling into his face because gravity’s obviously playing favourites. his shoulders droop so far it’s a small miracle he hasn’t slid off the chair entirely. his tie’s hanging on by sheer willpower, slack and crooked, and his shirt—don’t even get started on the shirt—looks like it’s been wadded up at the bottom of a gym bag for weeks. yet by some ungodly miracle, he still looks stupidly good. you’re sure the universe must’ve bent the rules just for him.

you stop dead in your tracks, your stomach doing this annoying thing once again, but this time more from dread than nerves. he’s not quite intimidating but there’s something about the sheer disinterest radiating off him that makes you hesitate. you’re clutching your bag so hard your knuckles are white, and for one brief, tempting second, bolting feels like a legitimate option. but then he glances up, his eyes widening just enough to make it clear he didn’t think you’d actually show. the expression isn’t inviting, but it’s enough to stop you from finding the exit. barely.

“oh. hi.” his voice is soft, so quiet it takes you a second to register that he’s spoken.

you swallow hard, willing your nerves to calm, and walk over, lowering yourself into the seat across from him. “hi.” your voice comes out steadier than you feel, the single word hovering awkwardly in the air.

you pull your bag onto the table and set it down with exaggerated care, as if even the slightest sound might disrupt the fragile calm between you. he doesn’t say anything else, just shrugs, his movements loose and lazy, still half-melting into the chair.

“are you ready?” you manage, keeping your tone neutral, polite, professional even.

another shrug. “yeah. sure.”

his voice is low and rough. perhaps it hasn’t gotten much use today. it’s still not exactly rude, but it’s not encouraging either. you nod, your hands fumbling slightly as you flip open your notebook. you start simple, writing out a basic equation: 3x + 4 = 10.

“try this one,” you say, sliding the notebook toward him.

he picks up his pen, taps it rhythmically against the table for a few beats, then scribbles something down. x = 2.

“good,” you say before you can stop yourself, a flicker of surprise coloring your voice. you didn’t expect him to nail it on the first try, and the unexpected ease of it catches you off guard. “okay, what about this one?” you write out another problem: 2(x - 3) = 8.

he stares at the equation for a long moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he traces the numbers with his eyes. his lips press together in concentration and for a brief second, you think he might actually be invested in figuring it out. then he bites his bottom lip, and it’s glossy and pink when he lets go, and you have to snap your attention back to your notebook, pretending you didn’t notice.

“uh… x is… 11?”

it’s wrong, obviously, and you should’ve seen it coming, but something about the way he says it makes you bite back a laugh. instead, you shake your head, the corners of your mouth tugging into an involuntary smile. “not quite. here, let me show you.”

you walk him through the steps, breaking it down as simply as you can, and to his credit, he listens. his eyes follow your pen as you write, nodding slowly while he tries to piece it all together. his hair falls into his face as he leans in, the faintest shadow of understanding flickering across his expression.

“oh. so x is 7.”

“exactly.”

he leans back with a soft sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. his fingers catch in the tangles, but it doesn’t seem to bother him; it’s more automatic than deliberate. “right. makes sense, i guess.”

you glance at his notebook, curiosity tugging at the edges of your focus. it’s open, but not to anything remotely useful. instead of math problems, the pages are crammed with chaotic scribbles. tiny guitars, abstract shapes, half-finished stick figures tangled with half-finished sentences. words scratched out and rewritten so many times they’re barely legible, spiraling across the margins in waves of ink that don’t seem to lead anywhere.

you try not to stare, but it’s impossible to ignore the sheer disarray of it. it feels oddly intimate, a window into his head he hasn’t really hidden but hasn’t offered up, either.

“this one’s hard,” he mutters, pulling you back. his voice is quiet again, but there’s a faint sense of frustration as he frowns at the problem you’ve written: 5x - 2 = 3x + 6.

“it’s not too bad,” you say, leaning forward slightly, your tone gentle. “just move all the x terms to one side and the numbers to the other.”

he scratches something down, his pen pausing mid-air as he hesitates, then scribbles a little more. finally, he looks up, the faintest smirk curling at the edges of his lips. “x is… 4?”

you nod, feeling a flicker of warmth at the small victory. “exactly. see? you’re getting it.”

his lips tug into a smile and it’s not much, but it’s something. you look away, turning the page in your notebook, refusing to acknowledge the way your chest flutters for half a second.

the hour drags and flies at the same time. he tries, which surprises you more than anything else given that he has the attention span of a newborn goldfish. his foot taps a steady rhythm against the floor, and his fingers keep tugging at the frayed edge of his sleeve, but when you gently redirect him, he comes back.

the more time you spend with him, the more details start to sink in. the way his voice softens when he’s unsure of something. the way his nails are bitten down to jagged nubs. the way his lips part slightly when he’s thinking, his gaze flicking back and forth between the notebook and the table as if the answer might reveal itself if he stares long enough.

when the hour’s finally up, you take your time packing up, every movement drawn out and careful, watching out of the corner of your eye as he shoves papers into his bag. half of them are crumpled, a few look like they’ve barely survived, and none of them seem to end up where they’re supposed to.

“thanks for this,” he mutters, barely loud enough to register, his focus stuck on cramming his notebook into the disaster zone. “i mean… yeah. thanks.”

“no worries.” you aim for light, casual, as if your pulse isn’t doing that weird, too-fast thud in your chest. “that’s why i’m here. see you next week?”

he nods, barely, and there’s this tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth, a smile that doesn’t quite make it but lingers just enough to be noticeable. “yeah. see you.”

he walks off, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his bag hanging awkwardly from one shoulder, papers still sticking out at random angles. you’re just about to leave when your eyes catch something on the table. a crumpled piece of paper, left behind in his whirlwind of packing.

you pause, glancing around like you’re about to commit some kind of crime, but the library’s empty. no one’s watching. your fingers hover for half a second before curiosity gets the better of you, and you pick it up, smoothing the wrinkles carefully.

the handwriting is a mess. words scratched out and rewritten, lines twisted into tangles of uncertainty: and this is how it starts

take your shoes off in the back of my car van

you share my shirt, looks so good

when it’s just hangin’ off your back (???)

you stare at it, the edges still crumpled, the ink smudged in places where his hand must have dragged across the page. it feels too personal, but you can’t stop looking. your fingers hover for a second before folding it up and slipping it into your bag, your thoughts buzzing with questions you’re not sure you should even want answers to.

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ughgoaway · 2 months ago

Text

all those dreams where you're my wife

Word count; 10.8k (my longest fic ever??)

Content warnings; Swearing, being sick, excessive/unsafe drinking, fighting, many emotions, sex, unsafe sex (time is of the essence here), public sex, in this universe men wear engagement rings okay, jumping perspectives, mediocre writing, defo spelling errors however if I read this again I'll die, and hurt no comfort… (sorry not sorry).

Authors note; it's taken me fucking forever to write this monster of a fic, and it might be shit and all be wasted time, but at least I had a fun time doing it for the first time in a while. Hope you all enjoy <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

A cheesy pop song blasts in your ears as you watch your sister unwrap yet another thing with “bride to be” plastered across the front, and somehow she's still just as thrilled by it every time. She's wrapped up in the dressing gown you got her, once again with “bride” sprawled across the back, but you ensured her name was also embroidered on it, reminding her that she does still have an actual name that is unrelated to the man she’s marrying.

Matty sits next to her, faking excitement and feigning smiles with every unwrapping, cooing and beaming, putting up a pretty good act. But knowing him as you do, you can see in his eyes that all he wants is a cigarette and some peace and quiet. Still, it looks like he’s doing a pretty good job fooling the rest of the room judging by the swooning from the other bridesmaids. You hear the hushed whispers shared between your sister's so-called friends, trying not to roll your eyes as each word falls from their lips.

“Oh, isn't he just so sweet?”

“He can't keep his eyes off her!”

“Ugh, he’s so perfect. Does he have a brother? I need to find someone just like him”

The last comment cuts especially deep, and it takes everything in you not to mutter under your breath that she just needs to wait until her older sister gets a boyfriend and then simply steal him out from under her and marry him. But to make it authentic, she would need to make sure she told that sister throughout the entire relationship how awful and manipulative said boyfriend is. And finally, to really ensure accuracy, she would need to only wait 3 weeks after they break up to text him. That's how your sister found Matty, after all.

Not that you were bitter, or anything.

Despite seeing right through Matty’s devoted fiancee act, you can't deny that every smile that passes his lips is like a bullet to your chest. Each present is a new shot being loaded in the chamber, even tacky gifts like matching “his and hers” mugs and “Mr and Mrs Healy” engraved watches are agony.

You swear you could hear the click and spin of the bullets being slowly loaded in with every balled-up piece of wrapping paper. The shared coy grins hit you harder than anything, and if you looked down you were sure crimson would be spreading over your dress, distorting the dusty rose satin as the blood pools in your gut from the bullet holes left behind.

A shrill scream forces you to focus again, but every fibre of your being wishes you had left your head swirling in your nightmare. Matty's eyes are filled with something other than distaste for the first time in the evening, but not because they're meeting yours as you had hoped. Instead, he watches with a sly smile as his bride-to-be opens the present from him, a brand new Hermes Birkin bag. It’s a garish shade of bubblegum pink with silver hardware, the stiff leather detailed so carefully was almost taunting you, a perfect representation of your nauseatingly perfect sister.

The pure bliss on his face, matched with the tears pouring from your sister's eyes becomes too much, and suddenly you feel bile rising in your throat. You manage to slip away unnoticed, mainly due to the ear-piercing squeals coming from your sister's stuck-up housewife friends as they internally damn their husbands whilst acting happy for the future Mrs Healy.

You barely make it to the bathroom before the 6 glasses of champagne you downed unceremoniously come up again, gripping the cold ceramic basin as you vomit, tears streaming down your perfectly made-up face with each gag.

Slowly you stand again, head rushing as the blood pooling in your head trickled down your body. Too quickly you’re faced with your reflection, staring into the mirrored cabinet as you turn on the tap, letting the water wash away the contents of your stomach. You can't help but trace over your features as you stare, the bags under your eyes are decorated with smudges of black mascara and tears, making the deep purple they already were more obscured and sunken.

Snot drips from your nose, and you feel out of your own body when you see your hand go up to wipe it, but you swear you didn't move an inch. Your eyelashes are clumped together, sticky makeup gripping them harshly, and your once-freckled skin is caked in thick layers of foundation and concealer, hiding any sense of personality you have. Baby pink blush is delicately placed on the apples of your cheeks, faking laughter and smiles that you couldn't muster if you tried. Lastly, your eyes finally meet themselves, staring into your soul unwavering, it’s cruel and intrusive as you see your every emotion leak from them.

You bear your teeth at yourself, watching your cheeks wrinkle as they tug themselves into a grimace, fighting so hard to pull it harder into a smile, but your skin fights back. One day you'll learn how to hide how you feel, plaster on that grin in a way that doesn't look like a wince, but today is not that day. The wrinkles that decorate your face tell the story you can't, the story of agony and yearning, of missing someone you let go. Pink lipstick is pulled across your face, tugging your dull and lifeless skin as your hand smudges it on purpose, desperate to see colour back in your face.

The rose colour fills the smile lines on your face that were once deep and full of joy. Now, they're replaced by frown lines and crow's feet, sinking deeper and pulling any youth and joy left out of your face. Every day, more of each leak from your soul, replaced by envy and disgust, by the memories of the life you had, by watching the life you were meant to live being played out in front of you, with your sister in your starring role.

A harsh knock on the door pulls you away from dissecting each and every inch of yourself, a familiar voice ringing through the wood.

“You alright love? I saw you run off, guessed this would be the only place you'd be” Matty’s voice leaches through the barrier between you, and you can't decide whether you need nothing more than to see the pity in his eyes or if that would just be another bullet. Still, you unlock the door with a click, meeting his eyes with your practised smile, praying it's not the poorly guised scowl you did earlier.

His eyes flutter at the sight of you, fighting the cheap look of sympathy he wants to give. You watch his chest expand, his mouth opening and closing as his hand reaches out to yours. The warmth of his skin was so close to radiating on yours before it was snatched away, your sister swooping in and grabbing it, draping herself over his shoulder with a pouted lip and a look of pity covering her face.

“Oh god, what happened to you?” she asks brashly. Tact never was her strong suit, any thoughts she had always either decorated her face or simply fell straight from her lips.

Honesty tickles at your throat, and you feel the words clawing their way out, “I was so disgusted at the idea of you marrying the only man I've ever loved that I was fucking sick. And I'm so jealous and jaded that I can't even face myself one more day. Every time I see you both a part of me dies, and I don't know how much of me there is left to lose.”

But obviously, you push that honesty so deep down it once again becomes resentment, and you muster up a lie, “m’ so sorry. Someone at work has a bug and I think I've caught it. Had to run and make sure I didn't ruin your day.” your voice dripping with faux sorrow.

Matty's eyes narrow at you, his fingers fighting to loosen from the vice-like grip of your sisters, but she doesn't budge, cooing at you before speaking, “Oh dear! I hope you'll be okay by Saturday, you're doing the cake!”

For a second there you thought you were about to get actual sympathy from her, but no, just another selfish desire clouding any semblance of sisterly love left in her body. So you feel less bad when you answer her saying, “No no, I should be fine, but only if I miss your bachelorette tonight. I'm so sorry, but we can’t risk you getting sick too.”

Her full body cringes at the idea of getting sick before her big day, so she begrudgingly agrees to let you have the night off, but not before adding that you “owe her big time.” You have to fight the part of you that wants to say her stealing your boyfriend pretty much absolves you of any favours forever, but instead you nod and smile solemnly.

Sickly strong perfume swarms your senses as she wraps herself around your body, rocking you from side to side as if hushing a baby, “we’ll miss you so much! I'll have a drink in your memory, yeah?” she remarks as if you're dead already, gripping your shoulders so hard that her acrylic nails leave crescent-shaped marks in your skin. She pulls away a few seconds too quickly for most families, but honestly, any contact with her at this point makes your body practically break out in hives.

Before you can process it, a familiar aftershave overwhelms you, hands sliding behind your back just had they had done a thousand times before. Matty strokes your skin how he used to, 3 long drags across your back and a squeeze before locking his fingers in the hollow of your back, resting his chin on your head. Seconds drip like honey in his hold, and your eyes flutter shut as memories cascade over you.

But the cold unforgiving air rushes you soon enough, Matty’s hand once again caught in the stronghold of your sisters. Matty's eyes hold yours as he's dragged back into the garden, nodding at you three times to ask if you're really okay, the way he used to when it was just you two, the same caring look pooling in his eyes.

You don't nod back.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

The burn is familiar when another glug of tequila slides down your throat, the very last drops falling on your tongue as you shake the bottle dry, desperate to feel anything other than the pain caused by the shitstorm in your head. But whatever tequila you managed to force down your throat wasn't even enough to make you tipsy, let alone enough to start to forget. You're starting to think you won't ever forget, you know that physically he’s gone but he’ll never truly leave.

The cupboards in your kitchen rattle as you throw each and every one open, desperate to find another bottle of something. It could be half empty or full to the top, you just needed something to dull the everpresent ache. You’d never felt like this before, it's all so painfully new. But fuck, you wish it was somehow a familiar kind of new, maybe even the same new as it was when Matty first met you. A warm new rather than one so icy and cold you feel forever frozen. Empty cabinets taunt you, and eventually, you throw yourself on a chair in your kitchen, tapping the wood of the counter as exasperation fills your bones.

You try to stay where you are, alone in your empty house, your leg rattling the chair you're sitting on with every impatient bounce of your knee. But an empty house isn't ever really empty; it's simply sitting and waiting, just like you. Soon, the waiting becomes too much, and your inability to forget drags you from your house with your keys in hand, walking to the closest bar with the cheapest shots.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

The bell over the bar door jingles as you skulk in, moving straight to the corner, preparing to hole up there the rest of the night. But a familiar chortling laugh fills your ears whilst simultaneously filling you with dread. Slowly you turn your head, letting your hair obscure your vision in some delusional hope that you don’t know exactly who that laugh came from, and that when you turn your head your eyes aren't going to meet his.

But you turn anyway, pulling your hair away from your face and everything clicks just as you thought. A table covered in bottles and glasses, cheap crowns precariously placed on each head around. Raucous laughter poured from every drunk body sitting around the filled table, except for one. Matty’s ring finger traces around the lip of the half-empty beer he has been nursing all night, his eyes unfocused and staring off into the distance, his friends oblivious to him as they chant “Chug! Chug! Chug!” at George downing yet another cheap beer.

You want to move away from the vision before you, but you stay locked in, looking, staring, studying.

Waiting.

And then, he shifts his view, so subtle anyone would miss it, but you don't. Recognition gradually turns his downcast features, the light slowly filling them back up. You can't bear to see the relighting of whatever fire is still glowing inside him, so you rip your gaze away, spinning off the chair and ripping open the door to the smoking section, welcoming the harsh biting air.

The clatter of the door makes the few drunks outside scatter like cockroaches, avoiding your eyes as they filter back inside. Blood pounded in your ears, once obnoxiously loud music overshadowed by your heart's racing. Shaking hands make you drop the cigarette you had viciously ripped from the pack onto the cobblestones, soon trampled by your pacing feet.

Your vision begins to blur, the view of your body quickly unfocusing and focusing as if you're looking through a shattered camera lens. The familiar bile rises in your throat again, now replaced with the vague flavour of tequila compared to the cheap champagne of earlier.

Hunched over a plant you start to gag, fighting the urge to vomit with every fibre of your being, unwilling to lose the buzz you need to even think about going back in there. But a familiar hand on your back rips any tipsy feelings from you violently, sobering you up so quickly you're sure you could ace any drunk driving test thrown your way.

Your body rips itself away from his touch as if it set your skin ablaze. You’re sure if you looked at your back there would be a red and blistering burn in the shape of his hand, engagement ring brandished into your weeping skin, taunting you.

Silent staring is all you can manage, sucking in deep breaths of the smoky air, trying not to look like you're a deer in headlights, and failing miserably. Matty hides his shaking hands, forcing them into the pockets of his jeans, fiddling with the loose blunt in there and fighting the desire to pull it out and light it.

Someone has to talk eventually, but it physically can't be you, it feels like something is sitting on your chest forcing the air out of your prickly lungs. If you opened your mouth, it would be nothing but a discontented squeak, a measly attempt at trying to stop this before it happens, to undo this night and never see Matty again.

Is that what you really want? To never see him again? It hurts like hell whenever he's near, but you've come to find it a comforting sort of agony. The kind that makes you feel validated in your hurt, that you're not just making it up for attention. Seeing Matty feels like pressing on a bruise just to remind you the pain was always real. You can hear your therapist screaming at you in your head right now that this is not a “healthy attachment” but maybe it doesn't need to be healthy, maybe-

“Nothing to say, then?” Matty stops your internal monologue from spiralling any further, breaking the ice and plunging you both into the cold water below you. Fight or flight fills your body when you start to feel the metaphorical freezing water fill your lungs as you suck in desperate breaths.

But you choose to fight, Matty is blocking the doors, and scrambling over the bushes next to you whilst tempting, doesn't feel practical considering the state you’re in.

“Why are you here?” is the first sentence that rips itself from your chest. It's a stupid one, you know it is. You see the husband-to-be badge on his chest, you saw the gaggle of drunk mates that surrounded him at the table, all with the same half-askew crown that is sitting on his sea of curls.

He steps closer, sucking in a breath to speak, you can’t help but flinch helplessly, hot tears already brewing at your lash line. Fuck. You didn't want to be emotional, you wanted to be calculated, fierce, cutting. You wanted him to walk away with a hole in his chest no doctor or therapist could ever heal. They say you can't stare at your wounds forever, but you need him to be eternally marked by the memory of what was.

“Should be asking you that really. The smell of tequila coming off you doesn't scream “I'm deathly ill” so,” Matty shrugs, dying to inch closer but fighting the urge just enough so he doesn't have to see you flinch at the sight of him ever again.

You sigh heavily, looking down at your feet and tugging at your shirt, every feeling you'd had in the past 6 months rearing its ugly head all at once. He’s here. He's here and he feels real, his eye bags look more sunken than they had earlier, the harsh moonlight casting shadows on his faded skin. She isn't here attached to his hip or draping herself over him like an overattached mother at her son's wedding. Suddenly any chance of a simple goodbye flashes away, leaving only behind the horrible memories and questions of what was not even 6 months before.

“Do you ever think-” you stop yourself, word vomit scratching at your throat violently, but you swallow it down. Matty can't stop himself anymore, taking a single step closer, but you don't flinch, instead gazing up at him and letting whatever fills your chest pour from you.

“Do you ever think that I know you better than anyone will ever know you?” you say quietly, almost hoping he doesn't hear, but he does. You can tell from the way he shoves his hand in his pocket and pulls out a lighter to fiddle with, the same thing he always did when anxiety started burning his lungs.

“We can't have this conversation.” Matty sighs out, hovering his thumb over the flame and letting the black soot build up on his skin, the slight warmth of it reminding him what's real. Well, that reminds him, and the way the light of the fire gleams off his engagement ring.

“You really think we can just move on? Go to the wedding and play happy families for eternity? I lost my soulmate that day Matty. My best fucking friend, and the only person I wanted to tell that I lost you, was you. And every time I see you it all comes flooding back.” You whine helplessly. The blood is finally flowing, you had ripped open the wound you'd been carefully picking at for the past six months. Any healing was gone, the only way out was stitching it back up yourself or letting it pour.

“I'm engaged. You can't be my soulmate, it has to be her. Or at least we have to do an incredible fucking job of pretending she is.” defeated breaths come with everything he utters, accepting whatever fate he resigned himself to the second she messaged, the second he realised there was no going back.

“Please. You're just using her as fodder for your shitty music.” you huff like a teenager talking under their breath, kicking a loose pebble

Matty’s eyes harden, clenching his jaw before he speaks “Don’t do this. Start jabbing at me like it's going to solve anything. We aren't 18 anymore, no arguments are going to be solved by me strumming my guitar like a twat or your passive-aggressive comments that drag on.”

“Oh please, like you getting engaged wasn’t a “jab” to me.” You gesture wildly before crossing your arms and sighing heavily. Matty opens his jaw and starts pointing at you harshly, “No it-” but you speak over him without a second thought.

“You know, Sometimes I feel sorry for you.” you hiss, “I know how awful losing us was. But mostly, I’m just fucking angry. I went through exactly what you did, and I could never hurt you the way you did me.” shaking hands force you to shove them in your pockets, the anger making the very fibre of your being feel like an uncontrollable fire getting another log thrown on the blaze.

“I never did it to hurt you. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, I can't.” Matty says softly as if he's trying to placate you. It doesn't work. He lost every right to be a source of comfort for you the second he replied to that message.

“You wanna know what I hate the most? The part that makes me so angry I can't think straight? I hate that everyone knows but no one ever says anything. They act like it never happened. Like we never happened. Does what we have suddenly vanish from existence just because you're playing dolls with my sister?”

“Had,” Matty says quietly.

“What” you huff, tensing your muscles and fighting the desperate breaths that claw at your lungs, scratching at your throat to try and force them down.

“What we HAD. not what we have. You made sure of that. You always seem to conveniently forget that YOU ended this, it's so easy to make me the villain but don't pretend you don't remember that night in your apartment. I got on my fucking knees and begged for you to stay. You don't get to stab me and act like you're the one bleeding. You did this.”

“What, so you'd think we'd still be together if I didn't end this? You're fucking delusional. Surely if you're so in love with her, it would've happened eventually.” you spit “her” like its ash on your tongue, burning your mouth to simply say it. Silence hangs for a few seconds too long, your eyes magnetised to each other, helplessly intertwined.

“I buy her your favourite perfume you know�� Matty swaps topics so quickly it hurts your head, every ounce of air is huffed from your lungs as you ready yourself to interject, but he keeps talking, “She doesn't wear it all the time, practically never. But every once in a while when I close my eyes and night and pull her close, I recognise that smell and i can pretend it's you. And when the moonlight hits her engagement ring, I don't feel sick to my stomach.”

Fuck. the emotional whiplash suddenly feels all too real, every ounce of air is ripped from your chest and replaced with a crushing burst of realisation.

You caused this. Every crying session, every drunken night cursing his name, each hour spent stalking her social media. Every time he wished it was you in his arms at night, or even the times he pretended it was. It was all your fault. He wouldn't have let go, you left his life with claw marks left in your skin.

Before Matty can even process what he said, you sprint away slamming the doors behind you as the world spins in your vision. Everything wrong in your life is the cause of your own hand. Your feet feel unsteady, the wood below you shaking as if an earthquake is rocking only where you stand, following each step, rocking you so hard your nausea feels bone-deep.

The bones in your whole body feel wrong under your skin, tugging and poking, attacking you from the inside out as you slam the bathroom door behind you, shaking hands, fighting to lock the door but failing. Eventually, you drop your hands, giving up on the metal click of the lock so you can hover over the sink, staring at your wet cheeks and bloodshot eyes. It’s the image of someone whose very being has changed beneath them, someone you don't know if you'll ever recognise as yourself ever again.

Desperate, warm breaths fill your empty lungs. You’re drunk on oxygen, but still, you can’t catch your breath. Everything around you falls in and out of focus, the image of the stranger in the mirror distorts with each hungry inhale. Her face swirls and distorts, you feel like you’re trapped in a Picasso painting. Warped faces stare back at you, with some humanity trapped behind layers of paint and years of waiting.

Just as the focus pulls your eyes back, the door swings open, and you're met with Matty huffing as he stares at you hopelessly, wringing his hands nervously before slowly shutting the door, easily locking it with one hand.

He cautiously steps closer and closer, as if he’s trapped in a cage facing a lion, testing the waters and hoping he gets out of this alive. You stand motionless, fear and realisations wracking every nerve in your body, zapping you with taps of electricity, forcing your limbs to freeze in place and allow the pain to skittle through you.

Metres become inches that become centimetres; goosebumps begin rising on your skin, your heartbeat rushing and jumping to the same rhythm as how Matty used to laugh. Before your eyes can meet he envelopes you in a hug, his shaking arms wrapping around you. His familiar hands hurt your heart, sliding down your spine the same way they had one thousand times before.

“I wish I hated you,” you whisper, pressing your face into Matty’s neck and allowing your senses to be overwhelmed by him. The simple scent of patchouli, the familiar scratch of his shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his skin radiating onto yours. If you opened your eyes, you know what you’d see, what freckles dance across his skin where your gaze would meet it; you know every mark on his body forevermore.

Matty’s vocal cords feel frozen in place; all he can do is nod and pull you closer, letting tears flow down your cheek and drip onto his shoulder. Eventually, he tries to pull away, but your arms tighten. “I can't look at you,” forces itself from your lungs, the idea of facing the man you’ve spent the past five years loving so deeply it hurts your chest. They told you that kind of love for him would pass, that it always does.

It didn't pass.

Part of you regrets ever loving him, of ever letting him so deep into your soul that it has become hopelessly intertwined with his. Everyone who knows you knows him. And vice versa. The time passes, no matter if you’re together or apart, but you're never truly apart. There's no one without the other.

Your fingers loosen of their own accord, your mind unaware you're releasing the grip around the only body that feels as if it fits right with yours. Your gaze lingers on the room behind him, refusing to see whatever swims in his eyes. It feels exactly like it was, but somehow, it still feels so different, if you were standing in the same room with your arms around each other eight months ago, meeting his eyes would have been the greatest comfort you could imagine.

But everything changed, as it always does, and now the mere thought of looking into them makes the butterflies in your ribs that used to delicately flutter instead hammer against them as if they're trying to shatter you. Furiously trying to warm the heart you're now not even sure still resides there.

You hold his gaze. Just for one second, you tell yourself, but one quickly becomes two, which then becomes ten, even 15. They flitter away for a millisecond sometimes, but only to watch his lips that you could swear were inching closer and closer to you each time your gaze flicks down.

You only realise they had indeed been getting closer when they pressed against yours for the first time in months, slotting together as they had millions of times before, a heat you knew all too well. The voices in your head are berating you, screaming at you to take a step back, to shove him away with every ounce of your strength, but they all muffle at the very feeling of his body against yours, screaming as if they're trapped underwater and you're standing on the surface oblivious.

There’s no time for buildup, both of you terrified the other would soon realise what you're doing, as if there was some trance tricking you, forcing you to stand dead still against your will. A trepidatious press of lips soon becomes ravenous, hushed breaths and stolen moments finally rearing their head after being pushed down one too many times before.

Sharp fingernails dig into his scalp as you tug him closer, his moans reverberating against your lips as he walks you backwards, letting your back hit the sink behind you, pressing his whole body into you as far as he can, your limbs slotting together in familiarity. Wordlessly you jump on the hardwood, opening your legs and allowing him to come even closer. You have the realisation then that you’d let him inside your skin at this moment if it meant he could somehow just be closer.

Warm hands slip from your cheeks to the hem of your skirt, wrenching it up so quickly that you wouldn't be shocked if you heard the fabric tear in his vice-like grip. But you welcome him warmly, locking your heeled feet behind his back, somehow tugging him even more into your space.

Every tug of his hair forced his hips forward, groaning as the tent in his trousers brushes your panties, an involuntary move you remembered from evenings just like this one. Sneaking away from family dinners to find an empty store cupboard or stall to just feel each other, to try and stifle the ever-burning fires inside you both, it only got stoked with every shared glance and slide of your heel up his calf under the table.

Matty’s belt clinks as he wrenches it open, the soft leather tugging at his palms as he rips it off. The only reason he’d ever remove his hands would be fighting to get endlessly closer to you, every other second they’re blindly memorising every curve and dip of your skin. You follow suit, tugging down your panties as far as you could with your legs still locked in the hollow of his spine, tempted to just rip them so you don't have to disentangle yourself from him. Matty doesn't let you contemplate it for another second, ruthlessly tearing at the lace until that familiar ripping sound stops and you feel the fabric drop to the floor below.

He yanks down his boxers as best he can with his lips attached to yours, “Fuck, I need to be inside you, I need it” Matty huffs pulling away as if it pains him not to be connected to you, a magnetic force dragging you together. Messy top-lip kisses make you dizzy, his tongue pressing into your mouth and hypnotising you, but he has to tug himself away one more time, his eyes painful before they start roaming your skin as if he's studying fine art.

They dance across your figure, focusing on the small parts he never thought he’d see again. The familiar freckle on your inner thigh, the very place he kissed each time he ventured down between them, his self-professed favourite place in the world. Or the scar on your knee from childhood, he remembers you covering your reddening cheeks, telling him the story of how you got it. Falling whilst chasing a boy, desperate to kiss him despite his obvious non-interest, and all you gained from the experience was lifelong embarrassment and that very scar.

Suddenly, he needs to see everything; every memory of your body connected with his comes rushing back, and desperation fills his every vein. He wordlessly tugs up your shirt; his focus trained on the very spot he knew it would be, the rib tattoo he always warned you not to get exactly where you did. He was there when you got it, your carefully manicured nails digging into the flesh of his hand as you winced, leaving marks he wished had scarred so he didn't have to rely on his fleeting memories of you, instead, you could permanently initial his skin with those familiar crescent shapes.

He shakes his head, trying to focus on his words rather than the vision in front of him, “Shit, sorry,” he pants, “you deserve something more romantic, but all I can think is how badly I've missed you.” soft hands slide up your thighs, tracing a comfortable path over and over, thumbing those familiar marks.

“Y’know, I could have you forever and it still wouldn't be enough. You wouldn't be close enough,” he grunts, wrapping your legs tighter around him. It’s then he finally sinks in, your body welcoming him home, the familiar feeling giving you a comfort you thought you’d lost forever.

Your visions of a reunion never looked like this. They were soft and sweet, wrapped in white cotton sheets with hot sun flickering over your skin as it pierced through the trees. But this was fervent and desperate, hunger gripping your soul and tugging in his, no time for sweet words of adoration or full breaths. You simply gasp when you can, sharing his exhales in the few seconds Matty can bring himself to stop kissing you, only to lose your breath again with every thrust.

Whines and whimpers seem to travel through you into him, every cry you make is soon mirrored by an aching grunt from him, pressing himself as deep inside you as he can and sitting there, feeling your body contract and shake around him. His touch somehow coaxed you closer each time, his fingertips skittering down each bone of your back, swirling and pressing as he reminded himself of the feeling of you, the gentle warmth and softness of your very being.

Every unforgiving buck of his hips made your skin prickle, your whole body arching into his touch helplessly, magnetised to him. But his very presence was enough to lure you closer to that teetering edge. The rush of heat made your head swell, foggy with the heady and intoxicating feeling of the togetherness you’d been yearning for. Your heart thrummed under your skin, matching the pulses Matty felt around him, nerves igniting under your skin as you inch closer and closer.

Before you can feel that all-consuming rush Matty drags himself out of you, grunting as he watches himself disconnect, paining him so deeply he swears it's like a stab wound. But no complaints can slip from your lips before he's scooping you off the side and spinning you around, holding your body against his, your back pressed on his heaving chest, feeling each hungry breath he sucked in. He keeps you there for a few seconds, one hand on your hip the other splayed over your ribs. Your head falls to his shoulder, your closed eyes letting you fall into him.

Slowly his hand slides from your hip up to your shoulders, pressing you down until you're bent over in front of him, your overheated body pushed into his pulsing bulge, forcing a huff of air from his already empty lungs. Sluggishly, your eyes open, met with a reflection themselves, your blissed-out face, and your flushed glazed skin. They inch up, watching as you bite your ruby-woo-flushed lip when you finally see Matty staring back at you as a predator looks at its prey, hungry for something that's almost insatiable.

Almost.

Without warning he slowly starts inching himself inside you, so leisurely that if you didn't see the look on his face you would think he doesn't really care how quickly he can sink back into you. Your eyes flutter shut on their own as Matty brushes your walls, tugging at spots that would make anyone twitch and whimper. Harsh fingertips dig into your jaw, forcing your gaze back on him, his jaw ticking the second you refocus, a cheeky smirk tugging at his cheek.

That smile only growing when he watches your jaw shake, your eyes rolling so far back in your skull only the whites are visible, your hand clutching helplessly at nothingness as pleasure wracks through you. Eventually, his body melts into yours, filling you up so perfectly it feels as if his body was only made to fit with yours. Goosebumps rise in anticipation, dancing over your skin as Matty stays motionless, the seconds dripping like honey, dragging on so long it made your head fuzzy.

He groans heavily as he pulls out as slowly as he went in, teasing you mercilessly just so he can keep watching your jaw clench and your body tremble in his grip. But patience isn't his strong suit either, and when it's just the tip of him inside you, he can't help but drive himself into you, splitting you open with each vicious roll of his hips. Bending over to whisper in your ear, “Say thank you sweetheart” with a flash of that familiar cheeky grin.

“Thank y-” your first try ruined as a cry rips itself from your chest, Matty waiting until you open your mouth each time to bury himself to the hilt inside you, watching you stutter and fight the grunts leaving you. Eventually, you can force out a whisper, “Thank you fuck-” making Matty kiss the side of your head, groaning as he mercilessly fucks into you.

He planted kisses along your jawline, the sound of skin slapping skin almost overpowering the constant mumers and whines falling from your bitten lips. Pink flush danced across your skin, decorating your neck and chest and obscuring any marks on your body, the mirror in front of you was too steamed up from your needy breaths for you to see anything clearly, but your eyes were so far back in your head that you wouldn't be able to see your reflection anyway. “Fuck” you manage to whisper under your breath, using every ounce of energy in your body to form a word rather than incoherent pleads and begs.

Matty’s pace was erratic, not giving you a chance to breathe before jackhammering his hips and sinking back into you. You can't help but shudder each time he fills you up, your body shaking uncontrollably as pleasure skitters up your spine, pooling at the base as he pulls out, only to electrocute you as it shoots up with every merciless thrust. Death could come and get you here and now and you wouldn't mind. This is life and death, existence, non-existence, bliss, lust, love; it was everything wrapped up into a fuck in a bar bathroom.

Words were stuck in your throat, helplessly tugging at you but coming out as broken cries and whines, your hands gripping the cold porcelain basin as you felt the waves of bliss start growing. Matty always told you to tell him when you were cumming, you remember evenings spent with him trying to get you to utter that phrase as many times as he could in one night, with every forgetful moment punished with a deliciously painful slap to your thigh.

“Close” you force out with a grunt, biting the inside of your cheek so hard you’re sure you taste that familiar iron of your blood overwhelming your tongue. Your body writhes trying to hold it in, desperate to let the shockwaves of pleasure crash over your body. Hooded eyes eagerly force themselves open, your body needing to see that familiar nod, those three shakes of his head that meant you could let everything building up in you go.

Finally, after the clock seems to freeze and time ceases to exist, he nods, biting his lip and focusing on you, the very idea of looking away killing him.

You don’t try and hold back any noises, moans ripping out of your chest helplessly, your whole body writhing as the electricity you'd been forcing down finally starts shocking you, from the tip of your toes up to your scalp, unmissable and unmistakable. You savour each second of bliss, letting your hips stutter and your walls contract around him, pulsing and trying desperately to feel him fill you up.

“Fuck- I love you. Holy shit-” you mutter under your breath thoughtlessly, it falling from your lips as easy as it was to breathe.

Shit. Every part of you freezes at once, itching to know if he just heard what you said.

If he did, he's playing it off very well, not even faltering in his thrusts, keeping his laser focus on finally finishing with the woman he's spent months fantasising over. Visions of you swirl around his head almost constantly, even in moments he knows very well they shouldn't be, but it's impossible not to. When you're so effortlessly intertwined with his very being, how can he not spend each day affronted with the memories?

But none of that is in his head at this moment, he doesn't have to imagine you or think up what you'd be doing in this moment, you're here. Your body is in his grip and he's inside you, the very connection he had been yearning for.

You watch in the mirror as he finally empties himself inside you, one last thrust pressing every drop of cum into you, wanting the memories of this night to be stuck in his head forever. Huffs and groans fill the space around you, and it's then you know he definitely hadn't heard you, he's as oblivious as he always has been. The only emotion on his face is pure bliss as he pulls out, watching his cum drip from inside you, decorating that familiar freckle on the inside of your thigh.

Wordlessly he grabs a paper towel from beside him, wiping you delicately all whilst studying his cum painting your skin. You poorly stifle a laugh, and Matty finds himself smiling too, raising his eyebrows at you in the mirror as if to incredulously ask “What?”

You shrug, simply stating, “You're such a boy” with an eye roll. Matty pinches your hip teasingly, silently tugging your skirt from around your waist, trying hopelessly to make it look like he didn't just fuck you within an inch of your life in this random bar bathroom.

He tries to be sly as he bends down and pockets your destroyed panties, but Matty hasn't ever been known for his subtlety, and judging by the schoolboy grin on his face, he has them buried in his trouser pocket just as he wanted.

“C'mon, I'll call an Uber. Best we wait outside, I think someone banged on the door about 10 minutes ago, must want to fucking kill us,” he grips your hand, his effortlessly wrapping around yours as it had 100 times before, no baggage dragging you down.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

The Uber ride was quick, your apartment was realistically a walk away from this bar, but you were all too happy to spend the 8-minute ride with your tongue down Matty’s throat. He pulled away reluctantly only once, finally answering the slew of texts coming from his groomsmen back at the bar. You know you shouldn't, but every part of you needs to read the text over his shoulder.

You wish you hadn't.

Ross: where have you run off to? George is begging to down your beer, not sure how much longer I can fend him off.

Matty: sorry had to rush home, missus just missed me too much, see you on the big day x

Ross: Really? Can’t be apart for even one night? You two are sickening, see you then mate x

It made that familiar pit in your stomach start growing again, filling it with the knowledge that you’d just fucked your sister's fiance at his bachelor's party. And the worst part was, you didn't feel even slightly bad about it. In fact, you only feel bad about the fact you don't really feel bad, at all.

Just as you start to pick at the skin around your nails, Matty grabs your attention, his warm hand cupping your jaw and forcing your eyes to meet his. He flashes you a gentle smile before kissing you, starting slow but ending up with your hands tugging at his hair and his hand gripping any part of you he could hold.

You couldn't disconnect, keeping up your act all through your lobby, and in the elevator up to your place, ignoring the camera in the corner and the creepy man who was definitely currently watching the footage. But it was helpless, your bodies stuck together in perpetuity. So it continued throughout your apartment, clothes slowly appearing in rooms along the way, marked with the memories of tonight represented by a rogue shoe or shirt.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

Your vision unfocuses and refocuses as you blink heavily, trying to make sense of the darkness around you, moonlight pouring through your window, your curtains still pulled to the side. A smile creeps onto your cheeks when you remember why you're there, and why your bare skin is pressed against your blanket, your hand smoothly sliding to the other side of the bed, waiting to hit Matty's Body.

But they don't stop, instead, the only feeling under your fingertips is lukewarm cotton and wrinkles in the shape of his body. You have to hold in a sigh when you realise what this means, but you soon hear rustling, followed by a muted “fuck” when Matty stubs his toe on the foot of your bed whilst shrugging his shirt on. You close your eyes for a few seconds, deciding if this was really worth it, or if it would be wiser to just roll over and pretend you never noticed him leaving.

Is it better to have never spoken up and allowed him to slip through your fingers one more time, or should you speak up and risk the very thing you've spent the last months begging whatever god there might be to bring back?

Your voice breaks as you speak, cracking your eyes open just a few centimetres, staring at Matty’s shadowed figure in the doorway, “Please just stand there for a bit. Just- Please.” you see him falter for a second, his fingers stroking the handle of the door, slowly pressing it down.

More words pour from you before you can stop them, “Life feels long but it's not, it's so bitterly short. Just spend a few more seconds with me, even if it's so fucking uncomfortable and awkward, stay. I need it, you.” his fingers freeze at your hushed words, and slowly they slide off the shiny metal and his head turns. His features are shrouded in the 4 am darkness, but you know the look in his eyes. You always do.

He only stays for another minute, but those 60 seconds heal cracks in your soul that were so deep they felt irreparable. But soon enough, the doorway sits blankly and the figure once cloaked in darkness is replaced with the cherry wood door you know all too well. The pillows and sheets welcome you as they always had before, but this time the ghost of someone else lays next to you, the sheets still scrunched from the echos of his body.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

The light drips through the curtains, fingers of sun piercing through your room. Sleep was fruitless anyway, visions of the night before clouding your already muddled mind. If you slow your breathing and allow darkness to overtake you, you can still feel the warmth of Matty's body on yours. His hands gripping your headboard, sliding across your skin, marking you the way he always loved to. In the back of your mind, the mistakes made fade away with every breath you shared, each desperate kiss fixing things you thought were beyond repair.

Maybe this time would feel different, maybe this time it will just be different. Maybe there could be a this time.

The shrill ringing of your alarm reminds you of what today really is, and suddenly any chance of a this time starts to fade away. But you push that to the back of your mind, letting the familiar feeling of denial take over your brain.

It's just your sister's wedding, who she's getting married to is irrelevant. You just need to get ready, get to the venue and go. You can decide everything there, with him. It's finally time to stop letting things go.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

At the venue, people flutter all around you, talking on headsets furiously trying to figure out when the next flower delivery is set to arrive. You can't fathom where more flowers could fit, the whole place is already a sea of jasmine, roses, and lilacs.

Anger skitters up your spine when you see the delicately placed lilacs scattered around, the flower you’d held close as your favourite since childhood was now an accessory in the wedding of your nightmares. She knew it was your favourite, everyone did. The mural etched onto your ribs was reminder enough, your first and last tattoo.

Still, you sighed heavily, shaking the building tears on your lashline away and painting on a non-agonsing smile. You know your priority should be going to the bridal suite and gushing over your sister as she gets her hair and makeup done, but as you walk down the long winding corridor a different room is calling your name.

Matty had his own private room, you remember it was something he refused to compromise on in the planning stages of the wedding, making finding a venue almost impossible. You distinctly recall accidentally eavesdropping on an argument between the two of them early on in the planning.

Baby please, just stay with all your groomsmen like everyone does. You don't need your own room! I don't even get one and I'm the bride!” your sister winged like a child, tugging at Matty’s sleeve and pouting.

He sighed heavily before speaking, fighting the eye roll pulling at his eyes, “M’sorry love, but I can’t. You chose every other bit of this wedding, just let me have this one thing”

“Ugh. drama queen” she muttered under her breath, violently striking off another venue on her list, almost ripping the thin paper with her ballpoint pen.

Well, maybe not so accidentally eavesdropping. You took any chance to hear your sister to prove she was actually human, and not some perfect robot child here simply to make your parents resent you.

Your knuckles crack as you nervously pull your hand into a fist, all the breath in your body is wrenched out of you as you knock, nervousness tugging at every nerve. What would his face be when he answered? Would he even answer? If he knew it was you, would that change his decision? A million questions cascade through your head, repeatedly punching you in the gut, a vicious reminder this wouldn't be as simple as you'd deluded yourself into believing it would be.

But he does answer it, and it’s like you can breathe again when you see him, the dejected look on his face swaps for light filling his eyes when he realises it’s you on the other side of the hardwood, tugging you in wordlessly, and pressing the door closed with your body.

“Hi,” he smiles, bending down to peck your lips, the warmth sending you rushing back to last night.

“Hi,” you reply helplessly, your head too hazy to think of an original response, your brain would have parroted any words that came out of Matty’s mouth no matter what.

Neither of you can wipe the cheesy smiles covering your face, your features too lit up by the presence of one another. Matty’s hands slide a familiar path as he gazes down at you, sliding the silk of your dress over your skin, pausing them in all the places with the marks he remembered making the night before.

“How are you?” you say dumbly, staring up at Matty as if he hung the stars and the moon, as if he created every emotion you've ever felt, as if he made you as he knew you now.

“Better know you’re here,” he teases, bending down to capture your lips in a kiss, letting it drag on for too many seconds, your lungs desperate for another breath, but you can't drag yourself away from him, not even if you tried.

But biology gets in the way as it always does, forcing you just far enough apart for oxygen to fill your systems once again. But you stay gazing, admiring, memorising. Studying the way that singular curl drops on his forehead, or the way the bags that looked so heavy under his eyes yesterday have a certain new lightness today, the freckles that decorate them glowing through instead of being obscured by the darkness that was.

“Who would I be without you?” you say softly, watching as your hand cups his cheek, sliding that curl behind his ear and looking at it as it defiantly pops back out, springing as it falls back into place.

“Whoever you were meant to be” Matty answers, his smile faltering only slightly, quick enough that anyone else wouldn't have noticed, but you do. Before you can call him out on it, a harsh bang on the door makes you jump, Matty’s hand quickly sliding over your mouth to muffle the scream that came with it.

His finger goes to his lips in a shushing motion as he slides you behind the door before opening it, keeping one hand in yours behind the hardwood as he speaks to whoever is behind it.

You can’t hear whoever is speaking, but you can hear Matty’s replies, “Yup sounds good Adam.” Matty huffs, “What? No, I don't need to see it, Mate. Really I-” A heavy sigh leaves his lungs before agreeing.

“Ugh okay, let’s go then” he concedes dropping your hand quickly and closing the door behind him, trapping you in the suite of your nightmares, surrounded by reminders of why you were here, why you were both here.

You wait for the footsteps outside to stop before slithering out of his suite, your eyes shifting around making sure no one caught you. Luckily you got away unharmed. Or, mostly unharmed, your ego the only thing that took a bruise.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

You keep getting so close to grabbing Matty to talk all day, but every time you start someone drags one of you away. It starts with Adam grabbing him to confirm the seating, then another bridesmaid grabs you to calm down your sister, a task you'd rather die than do. A comedy of errors continued all day, the conversation broken up into one-word meetings before one of you got guided away for something totally unimportant.

But despite the conversation being broken up 100 times over, you both know what you're saying. Are we doing this? Is this wedding really going to stop before it's even started? You still don't have an answer, desperation to just know is clawing at your chest.

Finally, you catch him, miraculously alone in the entryway to the ceremony room, the flower-petaled aisle just starting at your feet. There’s no time for pondering and deep consideration, before you know it someone else would pop out of the woodwork and drag one of you away, so you go for it, no more room for subtlety left inside you.

“Well? Do you wanna leave? Go at the same time?” you almost whisper, playing with Matty’s fingers as his hand rests in yours, anxiety boiling over in your head. Your palms slowly grow clammy as your chest tightens, awaiting the response that would make or break this whole messed up situation. That would make or break you. Still, his eyes don't meet yours, laser-focused on your connected hands, his thumb brushing over your skin.

All it would take is a nod, half a nod, a movement so small it would be impervievable to almost every other person on this earth. This is the first time since you first met Matty’s eyes across a crowded room that you truly have no idea what he's thinking. His face is always decorated with his every emotion, clear as day. At least it always has been to you, feelings painted across his cheeks, swirling in his eyes, exposing themselves by how he licks his lips, or exactly how his eyelashes brush his cheek. Practically screaming at you.

But not now, something different is shrouding his features, some unreadable unknowable version of a man you thought you knew every facet of.

Finally, after what feels like hours, his tongue darts out and wets his lips, readying himself to give you the answer that decides if you’re just running, or if you’re running with him.

“I-”

“Matty!” a feminine voice behind him hisses, carefully manicured pink nails wrapping around his suited arm and gripping forcefully, tugging his hand from your gentle hold. It's then Denise slides into your vision, offering you a soft smile before returning to scowl at her son.

“I've been looking all over for you! We’re running late, let's get you where you need to go love, come on.” she gently tugs his arm, Matty following wordlessly, keeping his eyes trained on the floor below him as if it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen. “See you in there darling!!” Denise says cheerfully turning to you, winking with the biggest grin spreading across her features.

The oxygen in your lungs gets completely ripped out, and it suddenly feels like every limb in your body could collapse under you, he didn't answer. If it's not a yes, it's a pretty fucking clear resounding no. That means the past 12 hours were nothing but a slip backwards, something he regrets. You're something he regrets.

But before he reaches the top of the aisle, Matty calls your name lightly, wrenching his head as far back as he can, your eyes meeting his gaze immediately. It's then he nods, 3 times. Your sign. Whatever this is, is happening.

All of a sudden the anxiety comes rearing its ugly head, but now it’s nervous excitement fueling it rather than a gut-wrenching fear. A plan starts formulating in your mind of exactly what you need to grab, where you’re going, and how this is all going to unfold. Is this going to work? Will it actually be different? Has this experience changed you both enough to never let this go again?

Maybe you could go on their honeymoon? You're sure Matty paid every penny for it, so does that technically make it his? You could buy clothes when you get to Greece, the bridesmaid dress you're wearing now is comfy enough for a flight, plus you'll be too distracted to think anyway. The second he’s yours again none of this will matter, you can throw your phones in the ocean and forget it all. It can be fresh again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

Anxiety-ridden feet tap against the stones as you wait by the back doors, fighting the urge to check your phone for the thousandth time since you snuck out of the venue. It takes a long time to ditch your wedding, it's not like the movies. Or that's what you tell yourself when it's been 15 minutes and there’s no sign of Matty, and no noises of commotion coming from inside.

You decide that if it gets to 20 minutes and Matty still hasn't come out, you'll intervene. That must be around the “does anyone object” bit right? Or maybe you can just cause a general drama, pretend to have a heart attack, just something long enough to let Matty slip out unnoticed. But if you're honest, you think that might be impossible when you’re the groom.

Tick, tick tick. 20 minutes pass, and still no sign, not even a buzz from inside. With a huff you decide to sneak in, tiptoeing through the kitchen readying yourself to peek your head through the door, maybe he just needs to see your face again, a reminder of what's waiting on the other side of the ruin.

“-sickness and in health” you hear Matty’s voice before you see him, the microphone shoved into his face by the priest, something your sister insisted on, makes him echo through the whole venue.

When you finally step out of the kitchen, your world suddenly collapses in front of you. There he is standing up hand in hand, with not a single sign he's about to run for his life. He feels you enter the room, the way he always has. It's what happens when you spend every waking second together, something in your brain becomes fine-tuned to knowing when the other is near, and the tug between you starts.

But he flicks his eyes for only a second, avoiding any chance of seeing the look on your face, even though he could see it every time he blinked. Suddenly his tie felt tighter, tugging at the skin of his neck rougher than it was before, strangling him. The air felt thinner like he was climbing Mount Everest without an oxygen tank, his body starved of air. But he had to keep pushing, he couldn't look.

“Matty?” the priest prompts, and it's then Matty realises in his panic he’s missed some kind of prompt, looking around helplessly as if it's going to be written on the officiant's forehead.

“Your personal bit, honey” your sister hisses at him, quickly swapping her face for a calm grin and a giggle as she turns to the crowd, performing for them as she always does. She doesn't spot you standing in the corner wishing the ground would open up and swallow you, drag you down to the depths of hell that you’re sure would feel better than standing here watching your universe crumble.

“Oh right, um” Matty coughs awkwardly, his head darting to the side rapidly, fighting the urge to stare at you as he speaks, desperate to ditch the vows and instead blurt out an apology.

“You are my closest friend, my warmest love, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You are part of me, and you know me better than anyone I've ever met. Thank you for knowing me the way you do, thank you for loving me,” his voice breaks as he speaks, a gentle cough coming up as he tries to fix the waver in his voice.

The crowd coo at his emotion, Isn't he so sweet getting choked up over how much he adores her? But that's not the emotion clawing at his throat. Its guilt. It’s regret. It’s knowing he is honestly confessing his devotion, but he’s confessing it to the wrong person. It's knowing if he turned your head, he'd be facing exactly who he wants to speak to. But he can't. His head is glued exactly where it is, and if he moved it even one degree, he wouldn't be able to live with himself because of the look on her face, on your face.

The rest of the ceremony sounds like you're underwater, dragged under by the cold waves and forced to listen to muffled voices and cheers. Watching helplessly as he nods three times after saying I do, and studying the way his mouth meets hers when they say “You may now kiss the bride!”

Well, sometimes time changes everything. Sometimes it changes nothing at all.

#matty healy angst #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 angst #wedding angst #or maybe non wedding... you'll have to see ig!!!#if you hate this dont tell me it will be my final straw #im so fragile #this has taken me like 5/6 months so

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