#r is dead now ig | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

okkotsuus · 2 years ago

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PLEASE i need that dealing with ur ex as ur boyf but for barou cus i KNOW that man would GO OFF!

ex encounters (bllk pt.2) !

no because barou would beat the shit out of someone. i'm jut gonna include the rest i wanted for pt.2 with this <3

features: barou s. jingo r. rensuke k. meguru b.

contents: bad exes. ig hurt comfort. kind of comical. barou tries to fight someone. raichi actually fights someone. barou, raichi, and kunigami are physically imposing. bachira pretends to be cray cray (is he really pretending tho?). they're adults bc i said so. 1.9k words.

tw for the exes: copying you. light implied obsession. second choice. gas lighting. being physically imposing. cheating. implied love bombing. stage 5 clinger (derogatory). extremely mild stalking? (can't think of a better word for it).

pt.1 — pt.3 — pt.4

barou would be so bothered, he would verbally degrade the poor dude to tears. not to mention how physically imposing the man is, the ex would be SPRINTING away.

it all started about three years ago when you broke up with your ex, because you just didn't love him anymore and didn't want to keep him trapped in a loveless relationship.

you always felt bad about it, but never bad enough to get back together with him. especially not after barou had barged his way into your life, conquering your heart.

you were sitting on a bench in the park while waiting for him to come back from getting ice cream for the two of you. y'know, not expecting to see your ex, you were minding your business and scrolling though tiktok.

"y/n, hey!" you looked up to see your ex, at first you were confused because frankly, you didn't recognize him. he had changed a lot about himself, physically, dying his hair and dressing different.

part of you already had an idea where this was going. so, you just smiled at him and tried your best to be polite.

"oh, hello." yep, polite, but not nice so that it would lead him on. he stated blabbing on about how he had changed a lot lately, talking about things from the food he liked to the music he listened to. you noticed that it was all things that you had done or liked back when the two of you were together. it was kind of creeping you out.

"i guess what i'm trying to say is: will you please give me another chance. we should be much more compatible now-" you watched half in amusement and half in shock as a cone of ice cream was sat on his freshly coiffed hair.

your ex whirled around in anger, but immediately when dead still when he saw who did it: your boyfriend, barou. he was now holding only one ice cream as he stared down on your ex.

"you dare to speak to MY servant? begone from my sight, you filthy donkey." his words were spat with a venom as he threateningly stepped towards your ex who ran away.

he grumbled and handed you the ice cream he didn't shove on your ex's head, watching as you looked at him with stars in your eyes. he just huffed and ruffled your hair, looking away to hide the slight flush on his cheeks.

"he won't bother you again, but you better share your ice cream with me as a thanks."

jingo would swing on sight. i’m being so deadass he would sucker punch them and spit on them before looking at you all smiley and walking out while holding your hand.

while on a date with raichi, you had lost him in the aisles of the target that you had chosen to torment. you and him had been having a grand time while terrorizing everyone there with your boisterous cackles at any little thing that slightly amused you.

you had looped around an aisle to find him after walking too fast and he was no where in sight. at first you thought he was hiding from you as a joke so you jumped at the beginning of every aisle to try to catch him off guard. but no one was there.

well no one except your ex. because of course he was there. why wouldn't he be in this random target while you just happened to by separated from your boyfriend?

he wasn't a terrible person per say, but he just had a tendency to choose other things or people over you. that was just something that gnawed at you until you snapped which lead to this big fight, where he accused you of making everything up. that was the last straw for you so you broke up with him and never spoke to him, ignoring his calls until they stopped coming.

but here he was, standing directly in front of you, a wobbly smile on his lips that didn't match the look in his eyes. "hey, honey. how've you been? i've been really bad without you..."

you didn't answer and just stared at him while backing off slightly. he just continued, taking a step forward for every one you took back.

"i really miss you, you make me complete"

"you don't really mean that." the words flew from your lips before you could think, speaking the cold and harsh truth. he knew that as his expression turned in anger, taking a bigger step towards you.

but he was immediately thrown back by a fist ramming right against his cheek. he flew back and stood there stunned, taking in the sight of your boyfriend. his widened eyes, sharp teeth, and muscular form. raichi was cracking his knuckles as he growled at the guy.

your ex was about to swing back only to be punched straight in the nose, falling to the ground, being temporarily knocked out. raichi spat on him and turned to you, grimace turning into a sweet grin. he held your hand as an employee kicked you out of the store.

"we're definitely banned, don't regret it though angel, there are other targets."

rensuke would be just annoyed. he knows what he looks like compared to most men and just stands behind you while looking at the guy, doesn’t even have to do anything.

you were sitting at a table in your favorite restaurant while kunigami went to park the car, wanting to optimize the time that it would take to wait for a table. surprisingly, it wasn't very packed so you were able to get one as soon as you asked the hostess.

so, here you sat, sipping on your water as you waited for your boyfriend to come back to join you.

what you didn't expect was to feel an unfamiliar hand on your shoulder, turning to see your ex. he wasn't anything special; the typical cheater. he was so sweet to you at the beginning of it all, treating you as if he was your world almost instantly. that really should have only clued to you that he was hiding something.

he cheated on you with not only one person, but THREE. so he was the furthest from someone you could get back together with. so when he started doing the same sweet lines that he had given you during the beginning of your relationship, a familiar sense of dread set in.

"hey there pretty, missed ya so much, why don't i join you here?"

you just shook your head as you noticed rensuke approaching from the front of the restaurant. you had stopped listening to your ex and you watched his form talk to the hostess.

she pointed in your direction, and you watched as his gaze moved upon you and the predicament you were in. he sent an apologetic smile your way as he walked with a slight haste you way.

"...and those are the reasons why we would be perfect if we got back together." he finished off a long spiel that you, frankly, weren't listening to. you just nodded, watching as rensuke settled behind the guy, waiting for him to notice.

"that's nice and all, it's just: i already have a boyfriend. plus, you cheated on me." your ex just sighed and began to start complimenting you, saying he was such a fool.

rensuke cleared his throat as he stood with his arms crossed, a brow quirked. he was kinda hot like this, to be honest. your ex just turned around and when he saw him, you saw his eyes widen.

your ex just looked between the two of you, acknowledging your loving gaze at the other man, he just sighed and left. rensuke snickered and sat across from you, flipping through the menu.

"can't take ya anywhere, can i, sweetheart?"

meguru would go like feral. he would start talking to the monster in front of the dude and just make him think he was batshit crazy. i mean, it worked, so whatever.

you were sitting with bachira on a bench while he idly chattered about bees. you just smiled as you listened to him list off all sorts of things that you couldn't understand through the jumbling of his words from excitement.

suddenly, your pleasant afternoon was interrupted by a voice shouting your name. you turned to see you ex running up to you with a smile. he never really left you alone, even after you had broken up. always happy to see you and insert himself into anything that you were doing. like a nosey dog. somehow, he was everywhere you were, like he knew you'd be there.

"heya! how've you been, missed you!" he went in for a side-hug but you scooted further into bachira's side, skirting away from it. bachira had long forgotten his beloved bees, instead scrutinizing your ex with a hollow, yellow gaze.

"hey..." you trailed off, lookng away as he sat down, squeezing into the two person bench, legs against yours. so you leaned further into bachira, relishing in the arm he draped over the back of the bench to rest around your shoulders. you also saw the glare your ex shot his way.

"just wanted you to know that i've really missed you, and i'm practically begging you for another chance!" his tone was chipper as his eyes glared harshly into your boyfriend, holding all but friendliness.

bachira suddenly burst into laughter, cackling like a maniac. he looked at the ground in front of the two of you, as if something was there.

"d'you hear the never of this guy? flirting with my partner right in front of me?" he spoke to nothing, it took you a little aback at first before remembering about his 'monster.' your ex just looked at him with wide eyes, clearly freaked out.

bachira nodded at the spot, mumbling agreements. he suddenly turned to your ex, looking him dead in the eye, piercing into him. his face was blank, eyes wide and empty, the only expression was a smirk on his lips.

"the monster in me says that the world would be better of without you... and i agree." your ex jumped up and muttered a goodbye to you before speedwalking away.

you turned to bachira and watched him shake his head like a dog, expression returning to normal as he looked at you with sparkly eyes and a genuine smile. your heart returned to normal as he kissed your shoulder.

"i may be crazy for you, sweet thing, but i'm not actually crazy. yet..."

okkotsuus 23

#bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #barou shouei #barou shouei x reader #barou x reader #jingo raichi #raichi x reader #jingo raichi x reader #raichi jingo #rensuke kunigami #rensuke kunigami x reader #kunigami x reader #meguru bachira #meguru bachira x reader #bachira #bachira x reader

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ahhhwomen · 2 months ago

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How did R’s react when he ate sweets for the first time and how did Natasha and Wanda react?

a/n: I am very close to calling this its own chapter given the fact that it is 4.5k and I lost my mind trying to write it. Is it good? I don't know. Did I proff read it? Fuck no, I'm over this shit. Anyway, enjoy the girlie's first kiss ig.

Contains slight spoilers for unreleased chapters of Vampire Empire

Warning: Implied force-feeding, talk of vomit, food anxiety, gay simps

The goop inside your bowl is scarcely edible.

At least that’s what you think, not that it matters, you don’t have opinions.

Half of it clings to the sides of your bowl, strangely solid yet somehow entirely liquid, the other half of the sustenance is spilled and hanging off the bent metal´s side. The closer it gets to midnight, the worse it looks.

A whimper echoes against hollow walls and joins the wails of fellow prisoners as the shattering pain inside your jaw bares its ugly teeth at the thought of creaking itself open for the sludge that could be mistaken for concrete.

In the first few hours, it had a color close to desirable. Now, the color reminds you more of the ground stained with your bodily fluids, because much like your blood, dried grab slathers itself against the cold outside of your bowl.

Picture perfect representation of your life story: desired, if only for a moment.

The scarce portion left on the inside is like a heap of coagulated blood, it jiggles and splatters against the metal beside your cracked hands. You could almost swear it has a pulse of its own. Gasping for the same chilled air that burns your lungs, the traumatizing, grey, something, moves up and down- breathing.

Footsteps of a handler emit in the empty air, heavy like the raging rain, the clash of his boots forces you to move faster. Much like a hurt deer, you drag your body across the ground until you are close enough to grasp the cool metal and force its insides down your closing throat.

Your broken jaw shrieks and cracks as you use both your hands to split it open with a sickening crunch.

If only they cut away your sense of smell too, that way you might not gag as much while the thick liquid, with the stench of a dead body, gurgles itself down your throat. It's like swallowing a handful of sand mixed with the guts of a diseased fish.

At this point, starving yourself would be the better option, but there was no point. Unless you wanted a tube stuck down your throat tonight, you would have to stomach it yet another day.

Manicured nails wrap around the delicate throat of a wine glass. Red liquid, which will never quench her thirst, swirls gently as she rotates her wrist in a circular motion. The glass is chilled and smooth against her fingertips, a soothing distraction from her twisting thoughts.

It's almost humorous, most would be concerned if their pet didn’t eat, yet here she was, concerned that you did.

A frustrated sigh builds within her, crawling up her stomach until she has to fight the air she breathes, in an attempt to not startle you as you rest beside her outstretched feet. It's not that she wasn’t happy you ate her food, or that your lack of pickiness angered her, it was just weird.

No matter what she put in front of you, you would eat it but rarely look like you enjoyed it. Even the most lavish of meals would be regarded with horribly hidden cringing. With a sigh, Wanda leans forward slightly, being extra careful not to disturb you as she changes her position, she rests her elbow on the plush cushion to her left and mulls it over.

There had been multiple instances where you would end up serving the food right back up again after finally getting it down, a clear sign that you either didn’t like it or ate too much of it.

A frown settles over stern features at the memories.

Even after you would throw up, you would attempt to consume it again with a grim expression adoring your pale features. Luckily Wanda was always there to remove it before you could try a second time, but then you would look like a scolded child and hide yourself away for the rest of the day.

It's as if the very idea of leaving the damn food alone gave you a whole crisis.

So, that’s how she finds herself now, in dire need of a solution as your weight has been dropping rapidly due to the reverse your stomach so often does. She needs to find a way to make you understand that it's okay to dislike something and that it's also okay to express pleasure for certain foods.

With a huff, Wanda continues to swirl her wine gently, it swishes against the sides and glides into thick droplets before merging itself back into its voluminous state. The irony isn’t lost on the older redhead, she supposes it’s slightly amusing that the only drink she deems worthy of her time resembles her most addictive poison.

Drifting her gaze over to your sleeping form she can’t help but admire your neck for a moment, the smooth skin jumping up and down with the quirk of your sensitive pulse. Your vein is so close to her, ready at her disposal. Of course, she would never bite you, not until you were ready, yet she couldn’t help but fantasize every now and then…

Your heady taste coating her tongue and throat, Wanda inhales deeply as she watches you sleep, your scent burns like sweet bourbon. Much like your smell, she imagines your taste would be similar; rich, and sweet… Sweet.

Wanda almost has to refrain from an incredulous laugh as the thought strikes her like lightning, the most obvious choice of them all; sweets.

However, even with such a lethal weapon up her sleeve, there were still certain challenges that would follow.

Due to her preference for keeping your diet strict and healthy, she imagined you were quite unfamiliar with the concept of anything remotely sweet. She would have to do this carefully, not wanting food to become a point of stress for you, more than it already was, she needed to introduce the new taste with something you are familiar with.

Twirling the glass around Wanda stared down at the deep red in thought, her knitted sweater irked her slightly as it slid across her skin, following her motions. With a huff, she took a sip of her fruity wine, as it lathered itself against her tastebuds, a bolt struck her for the second time that night.

Fruits.

Wanda had seen Natasha attempt to introduce you to the foreign concept before. And though it ended with a rather grumpy you after Natasha tricked you into trying a lemon, you had seemed… happier with the simplicity of it rather than your dinners.

To be fair Natasha had only managed to convince you to try the simplest and most universal fruits, such as bananas and apples, and of course, that lemon- but that one also set Natasha’s progress back by a week as you refused to try anything else she offered you.

Wanda’s eyebrows knit as she thinks it over… so you do know how to deny food?

Then how come every time Wanda served you breakfast or dinner you would eat until you threw up?

Amid her deep loophole of theories, a cramp hit Wanda’s leg, unconsciously she moved it slightly to the left, toward you. It wasn’t until she watched your sleeping form arch away from her by instinct that she realized you truly don’t trust Wanda. At least not the way you do Natasha.

She really shouldn’t be surprised.. she had seen it endless times by now, but the idea that you would push your body to such lengths because of her was more devastating than she could ever imagine.

It pained her to think that you deemed force-feeding yourself the lesser evil of the situation.

Yet, that would have to be a problem to punish her mind with at a later date, the important thing now was to help bring stability to your life and diet. Even if you don’t trust her, you do seem to have some resemblance of trust toward Natasha, or well, at least after she swore never to trick you again, you do.

And though she can use that to her advantage, it doesn’t give an immediate resolution; Natasha was scarcely home before your bedtime and wouldn’t be able to serve you your breakfast or dinner, and it was important to Wanda that the routine they had built for you stayed solid as sudden change had caused quite a few mishaps in the past.

So, as the businesswoman Wanda is, she starts mentally preparing a game plan for tonight and sends a quick text to Natasha, asking her to pick up a little something before returning home.

If this worked in her favor, it could strengthen your trust in her, which would in return at least start the path to recover some of your weight.

A few hours later, you and Wanda had long since abandoned your napping spots on the couch in favor of slipping into your own corners of the house. The older woman in her office and you, most likely, under a piece of tucked away furniture where you knew you wouldn’t be disturbed.

The door opens with a silent twist of the expensive, vintage, handle. Natasha cringes as her boots drag across the carpet, she had warned Wanda against installing it right next to the main door, but her wife wasn’t easily persuaded. Sure enough, as soil splatters itself in distinctive Natasha-pressed footprints, Natasha knows she will be in trouble in about ten seconds.

1…

Nat discards her dirty work shoes on the little shelf to her left, leaving another muddy print on the metal.

2…

Fixing the grocery bag around her shoulder Natasha wonders what wicked plan Wanda has planned for the three of you tonight.

3…

The older redhead didn’t have to tell her wife that she was hashing out a plan, Natasha could figure it out just due to one of the items she was instructed to buy.

4…

It’s not as if her wife doesn’t like this item, it’s just that she never really requests it, and least of all so late and out of the blue.

5… 6… 7…

As the seconds tick by without a single sound from her wife, Natasha gets a little confused. Usually, Wanda would always be there to welcome her home and reprimand her for bringing in her dirty shoes.

8… 9…

Today, however, it seems her wife must be preoccupied with her little plan.

10.

“What have I told you about bringing your dirty shoes inside?”

Natasha almost jumps out of her skin when she feels the words breathe down her neck. Turning around in a millisecond, she sees Wanda smirk at her while she leans against the door.

“Jesus Wanda, you really have to stop doing that! One day I am going to have a heart attack!” Rich laughter travels through Natasha’s ears as Wanda sinks deeper against the door in her fit of indulgent giggles while she shakes her head at her wife’s spooked expression.

Pushing herself away from the expensive oak, she slides her hands around her wife’s waist and nuzzles into Natasha’s neck, mouthing the words against her, “Darling, you don’t have a heart.” Natasha huffs but leans her head more to the left, giving Wanda space to kiss and bite as she sees fit.

“Not true…” The younger redhead mumbles it mostly to herself and Wanda simply hums against her as she drags the point of her canines slowly down from beneath Nat´s ear and down to her thoracic outlet.

Red, angry, lines form as she can’t help but add a little pressure behind the drag, feeling Nat’s pulse jump and hammer right beneath her tongue. Barley refraining from sinking her teeth in, Wanda releases Natasha with a sigh and one last kiss to the junction between her neck and shoulder.

Natasha attempts to lean back in hopes of gaining contact again, but there is no point. Before she can even blink, Wanda is halfway across the hallway, holding the bag Nat just had within her grasp.

“Not fair.” The younger woman whispers to herself and pretends not to see the smirk her wife sends her way.

Dark red heels click against the marble flooring as the rustle of plastic echoes within their space, “Find kitten and bring her to the living room, please.” The plea is more for show than anything, Wanda is more than aware that her wife can’t say no to her.

The grumbled, “Yes, ma’am”, is ignored as Wanda has already made her way out of sight before Natasha can get the words out.

With a huff and a quick check of her watch, Natasha makes her way upstairs to find the little culprit.

If anyone were to ask you, you would say Natasha Romanoff was a witch.

It’s the only palpable explanation as to how she always knows where you are, at least that’s what you think as you can hear her knock on the dresser you were napping under.

The bone knocks against the wood in a ticking manner, one knock, two knocks, and at last a rasp against the oak as she lets her hand drag across the dresser. It’s a heavy yet light sound that calls out to you as you are tempted to peek your head out and question her on her witch-like abilities.

You refrain from doing so and for a moment your body is unsure whether to be impressed or panicked at how easily she can predict you.

The cold floor beneath the dresser is tempting to melt into and never return from as you can hear her light steps drag across the floor beside you, any second now you know you will see her eyes look right through the darkness and find their resting place on you.

Facing the world wasn’t something you wanted to do at this moment.

And yet, it never comes…

When you turn your head and expect to see cat-like eyes staring back at you from outside the dark corners surrounding you, you are surprised to instead see her sock-clad feet with strange plastic eyes plastered onto them.

The little black pupils rattle against her movements as she curls her feet in a manner that makes the strange sock creature look as if it’s been caught and feels guilty. It looks a little silly and you honestly don’t know how to react to the absurdity of it, so without realizing it a sweet giggle slips out before you can stop it.

Oh no…

When the realization of what you have just done settles within your storming thoughts you have half the mind to slap your hand across your mouth and pray that the older woman didn’t hear it, but as you hear a pleased huff of breath above you, you know you have been caught.

Natasha kneels down until she can peek under the dresser to where your scared eyes study her. She knew to keep her reactions to a minimum, but as soon as she heard your gleeful expression, Natasha had to use every ounce of willpower not to coo.

“Hey baby,” Nat smiles at you as you bite your lip, unsure of her reaction to your slip of judgment, you hold back the pleased grumble building within your chest at her smooth tone.

It ends up being one hell of a task to get you out of there, Natasha has to swear up and down that, your little slip-up didn’t anger her, and then she has to spend the next ten minutes waiting for you to peak your head out.

But, after a bit of coaxing, Natasha can hear your palms lightly slap against the flooring as you follow her a few steps behind. The dig of the wood beneath her feet lets her know that they should invest in some more carpets, or perhaps mats, as this could surely not be good for your weak joints.

The redhead walks in a leisurely stroll, letting you stay close yet still have the desired distance as you pitter-patter behind her.

When the plush carpet molds itself to her stance, Natasha’s movements come to a halt. She stops short of the couch, watching her wife sit in a rather relaxed pose. With her hands stretched out at the top of the cushions, she sits with her chin held high and her rump sunken low.

Natasha almost snickers at her wife’s overly dominant presence, but something about the look in Wanda’s eyes tells her to sit this one out and wait for further instructions.

Wanda observes the both of you as you present yourselves before her watchful eyes. You stay low, crawling forward just enough to satisfy the scary lady. The older redhead’s skin itches with the need to smirk as you crawl toward the both of them, something primal within her, pleased.

Humming, to soothe both her wife and you, Wanda directs her attention to Natasha as her wife waits for an explanation.

She wants to drag it out and make Nat guess as much as you will have to.

This will be a game of trust after all. The need to tease her wife is strong, so, Wanda does as she pleases.

Lifting her pointer, she waves it around in the air for a moment, building a little suspense as the whirlwind swirls around her aura, and then she points over to the living room table.

Atop the table is a plate of sliced apples covered in chocolate, placed deliberately outside of your view.

As Natasha directs her sight to whatever it is Wanda is showing off, you can’t help but try and sneak in a peak yourself. However, much to your disappointment, the item, or whatever it is, is sat just high enough on the table to where you can’t see from your kneeled-down position.

Someone may call you paranoid, but to you, it all seems awfully intentional on the clan leader’s end.

The waving pointer is redirected to you as Natasha smirks for whatever reason while she turns back toward her wife. With a pleasant, and a little scary, smile, Wanda eases your tension as she tilts her head to the side in adoration before ordering her wife to, “Give her a taste, darling.”

Your eyes travel up to the redhead beside you as she moves away for a moment only to return with a platter with some sort of brown rocks on top of it. They make a strange crackling noise as Natasha places it down on the small table in front of the both of you.

Then, a hand comes into view as Natasha heeds her wife’s commands.

Pale, cold, fingertips are wrapped around the strange item that you figure must be some sort of food given the clan leader’s figure of speech, but you aren’t entirely convinced as you view it with uncertainty.

However, the fight is futile as you look up to the tall redhead in questioning hesitance, she smiles gently and as much as it annoys you, you are what the two older women have previously referred to as a “goner”.

Taking a hesitant bite, the crunch of the apple is slightly muted by the strange crackling layer of chocolate. It takes a few bites before the flavor hits you. Chewing slowly, it lies bare for your raw tastebuds to reap, gliding and emerging with your senses.

As your jaw creaks in displeasure, you focus on the heaviness of the treat.

It’s rich at first, almost overwhelming you with its sweetness. It reminds you of wintertime when the bakery just a few streets down from the shelter would emit the most beautiful of smells. It brings you back to the cold nights when you would lay, naked and bruised, beneath your red lamp and envision yourself inside the bakery. Stuffing your face with whatever you might desire.

Weak bones fight themselves as you gorge on the sugary addiction, it sticks to your gums and sneaks its way into the most stubborn corners of your teeth, making a distinctive smacking noise as you bite down repeatedly.

Then the flavor settles, it’s a more muted and pleasantly balanced mix of delightful, creamy, sugar and slightly sour apple. Your jaw works deftly, moving up and down in an unsure manner.

It tastes… good.

It tastes wonderful.

Amazing even.

Perhaps the best thing you have ever eaten. Which all makes you feel like a fool…

It tastes like everything you were ever denied.

Therefore, you sit and wait.

While Natasha and Wanda sit before you with bated breaths, slightly confused by your lack of reaction, you just look at them with beady eyes filled with… betrayal?

It cuts deep, as if your emotions slice through any physical or emotional armor that may surround the two not-so-human creatures. Pain oozes inside their slowly beating hearts as the ice perishes and hot molten burns through their veins until horror takes place.

Wanda is on the ground in front of you before you can even blink.

“Oh, baby…” She leans forward, shifting her weight onto her palms as she rests them beside her bent knees, lowering her torso toward the wooden floor as she crawls toward you. Her shirt rolls up at the action, untucking itself and riding up her back until a sliver of pale flesh showcases itself, but she doesn’t care, instead, she keeps going, slowly.

You tense at the movement, unsure of yourself, you cower away from her, for every inch she advances, you slither back. Deep down you know Wanda would never hurt you, but you also know that if she ever were to desire your misery; she would be far worse than Master.

Calm eyes track your motions as you crawl away from her in a rather desperate fashion, the fact that it does not seem to deter her from getting any closer makes the panic, creeping up your throat, raw and painful as the taste of acid coats itself over sensitive tastebuds.

Sensing your oncoming panic, Wanda stops, for the time being, sitting back on her heels, she makes a show of resting her hands on top of her thighs. Her fingers glide over the material of her fancy-dress pants silently, the ruffles and stretching of the material calm you for a reason you cannot explain.

Little confused, wooden tiles burrow into you as you settle your rump down against them, letting the anxiety simmer and calm before seeking eye contact in an uncertain question. Your head tilting slightly to the left, you wait for her to illuminate her sudden display of surrender and levelheaded dominance.

Perhaps she just wanted first-row seats to your pathetic reaction.

Whatever they put in the dessert is sure to kick in soon.

“Ah…” Wanda hums as she views your saddened eyes up close.

“Natasha. Hand me that would you?” Natasha, who had been sitting rather shell-shocked for the past few moments as her wife hunted you down, shakes it off and tilts her head in confusion for a moment before realization settles in.

With a huff, something mixed with relief and disbelief, Natasha hands over the half-eaten chocolate-covered apple slice that had just been fed to you.

The half-melted chocolate covers the expanses of Wanda’s fingertips as she holds it out for you to see. Then, before you can get nervous about having to eat another piece, it disappears as Wanda puts it in her own mouth instead.

For a moment after you just stare.

Watching as her jaw works before your very eyes, you still can’t help but wait for a sudden change, a frown to deepen, or a foul sound as the flavor takes over the older woman’s senses.

Yet, it never comes.

Small crinkles form around Wanda’s eyes as she chews, they move up and down, changing together with her muscle’s expansion and retraction. They stay consistent with every motion, never faltering in its path.

Like tiny wrinkles on a sheet of paper, it smoothens once she finishes her piece. Letting out a pleased sigh as she does so, clearly delighted by the sweet treat.

And like the snapping apple piece.

You break.

It’s like raindrops against a windshield, almost a question of what tears will win as riveting streams trickle down your chin at an alarming rate. It’s nothing like the few traitorous tears that the redheads have been privy to, no it’s like a raging storm as you hiccup in sorrow at the prospect of respect.

At the sight, Natasha draws in a weary hiss, yet Wanda doesn’t seem to change much at all.

There is no pity in her eyes while she closes in, only determination as she slides another apple piece halfway inside her own mouth and lessens the distance. Too distracted by your own sudden outburst, you don’t even realize what is happening until chocolate grazes your lips as the redhead waits for permission while resting her lips only a few centimeters from your own.

The sudden action shocks you to such degree that you have nodded consent before you understand what that may mean.

Smooth, soft, lips press against your chapped ones, a sweet delight getting slid into your mouth and mixing with the rose that invades your nostrils. A slight string of spit is split between the two of you as Wanda uses her hot tongue to push the piece all the way into your mouth. You both stay like that for a moment, Wanda gazing into your eyes while you stare bashfully into hers.

Yet, just as quick as it happened, it’s gone again… And much to your own surprise, that may be the saddest part of the entire day.

But you can’t be sad for too long as gentle fingers wipe your tears away and a deeper voice asks if you want another piece.

So, this is why the two redheads like kissing so much. You think to yourself as Natasha kisses you with just as much worship as her wife had while the chocolaty goodness seems irrelevant.

They continue it like that back and forth. Wanda gives you one piece, then Natasha, then they share a piece, and so on. It still takes you a while for the tenseness inside your muscles to loosen, but toward the end, you are eager for each piece and wait with impatient eyes as the redheads share some.

It may not have been an immediate fix, but Wanda is more than happy with the result of her little test. For now, Wanda will lessen your portions until you seem happier, and she will have to look out for signs of your dislikes, but if all goes according to plan, with a little help from a secret sugary treat, and maybe a kiss here and there, your trust in her should build to be strong.

Even stronger than Natasha’s if Wanda gets her way.

Which she always does.

#wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat x reader #dark!natasha romanoff #vampire!natasha romanoff #vampire!wanda maximoff #dark!wandanat #vampire empire

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pubbybutch · 1 year ago

Note

i don’t know if this is a weird request but it’s also my first one.

but i had the idea of abby coming home from a long shift at work, and she finds reader trying to make themself cum?

it just popped into my head and i need it to come to life 🙏🙏

No anon cause I love this trope so much, thank you for trusting me with your first request (ur doing great sweetie!)

(Hope you don’t mind an AU btw <3)

Word Count: 1600 (technically not a drabble ig)

CW: Doctor AU, Abby is a sexy doctor, Strap usage (R! Receiving), AFAB reader, Feminine nicknames used, cowgirl position, tried to keep it race/ethnicity inclusive, mentions of Abby trying to keep you healthy and sleeping well.

No Minors, Men, or general Cunts.

If you see spelling mistakes, no you didn’t. 💚

Abby is tired. And pissed off. But mainly she’s tired, with sore feet and a pounding headache, not helped by the wind howling outside the car causing the rain to beat down heavily on the wind screen. From having to prevent a kid with a broken arm from crying a flood as he called his mom to stopping the blood pouring out of a woman’s intimate parts in the emergency department. It was a very long day.

After running into the house from her now parked car, she pushes the trainers off her feet and takes in the dark hallway, walking back into the kitchen she notices a plate of chilli chicken and rice with a little sticky note attached to the cling film covering the food, ‘gone to bed, eat before you come up <3’ .

She smiled at the note and placed the food in the microwave, yawning as she watched the orange glow and the spinning of the plate in the little metal box. Bed couldn’t come soon enough, but she definitely wasn’t going to face the wrath of a wife scorned by her not eating her delicious food. Made with love, by her love. The blonde was always a bit love struck when sleep deprived.

Inhaling the food and making the executive decision to leave the dishes until the morning, the blonde trudges up the stairs with her feet heavy and her head even heavier. It’s not until she gets to the top of the stairs does she hear the creaking of a bed and hushed whimpers coming from your shared bedroom. She pulls her phone from her pocket and checks the time, ‘00:37’. You should be fast asleep by now.

Peaking her head around the door, not even having to push it open due to you leaving it ajar, she captures what can only be described as a beautiful sight. Abbys pretty little wife lays there. With one of your hands pumping her fingers in and out of your sopping wet cunt with such force your breasts and tummy jiggle lightly with each movement. Your other hand draped over your eyes, shielding you from Abby’s piercing blue gaze. She stands there and watches, leaning against the door frame, enjoying the view and appreciating every little huff and moan leaving your lips.

Finally deciding you’d had enough fun, Abby clears her throat. You jump. Your hand pulls away from your cunt, a shiver running through you as your body yearns to be full again.

“Mrs Anderson,” Abby starts, “you couldn’t wait for me to come home, could you?” Despite her phrasing, it is not a question. It’s an order.

The blonde continues, “Did I not tell you that you were to catch up on sleep, Mrs Anderson?” She tilts her head this time, prompting you to answer. “Yes, Abby…”

“And did you follow the doctor’s orders, pumpkin?”

“No, Abby.” The heat rising up your neck and slithering across your cheeks is a dead give away to Abby as she takes your face in one of her hands, her long, thick thumb rubbing soothing circles onto your cheekbone.

“Since you’re already up, it must mean you’re not tired? Am I right, sweetheart?” The blonde releases you face and takes a step backwards to take all of you in once more.

“Abby I-”

She interrupts you, “Well. Im tired. I’ve had a very long day, sweetheart so if you want to get off, it’s on my terms, we got a deal?” As she speaks she shrugs off her undershirt and undoes the button on her jeans. She watches as you nod and reach out for her, arms outstretched and hands making little grabby motions to try and get her close again. Be grudgingly she steps forward and out of the jeans pooling around her ankles.

Abby is left in her boxer briefs and a white cotton bra as she wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you away from the center of the bed and dropping you on the edge of the mattress. Gripping your chin and pulling your face so that your gaze meets hers, she smirks down at you. “Stay there. Don’t move okay, baby?”

You nod and watch as she goes to the build in wardrobe, her broad shoulders flexing as a hand moves to take the elastic band from the end of her braid, as her hand reaches into the drawer looking for something.

With her hair loose and a harness in her hands Abby slides the leather straps over her hips and into place. Turning back to you, you’re able to see the cock she’s chosen. As she walks forward you come face to phallus with nine inches of dark purple silicone. “You wanna get it wet for me, baby?”

Instead of answering, you slip a hand around the harness and pull her close enough so you can take her length into your mouth. Abby smiles warmly as she watches you only managing to get about half way down the strap, her blue eyes creasing at the edges as you wrap your hand around what you can’t fit in and start rubbing along the shaft. The sight sends a low moan rumbling from Abby’s chest. With a pop, your mouth lets go of the blonde’s cock as she takes a step back and watches as a line of spit connecting the silicone to your bruised lips breaks.

Abby kisses your forehead and sits down on the bed beside you, a blink and you’ll miss it ‘good girl’ falls from her lips as she situates herself against the pillows at the head of the bed. Her finger makes a curling motion, calling you over. Sliding up to sit next her, a hand grips your hips, “Get on top, sweetheart.”

“Abby, I want you to be on top-”

“And I want to go to bed, but since you’re being a needy little brat and not waiting for me to come home before fucking yourself.” She gives your hips a squeeze and continues, “And not listening to me when I tell you that you need more sleep. So now, you’re going to get to cum, but on my grounds. On doctors orders. Okay, baby?”

You nod and move to get straddle Abby’s hips, only to have her reach up and yank you down by the nape of your neck. “I said ‘okay, baby?’ It wasn’t rhetorical.”

“Okay Abby.” She kisses you square on the the lips and let’s you climb up on to her hips, she leans back and watches as you line yourself up with her cock and lower yourself onto the plastic. A tight smirk graces the blonde’s face as she listens intently on the hasty breaths you give out as you become re-accustomed to the stretch that this particular dildo always gives you. As you move your hips up and down, mewls and pants come flooding from your mouth. That knotting tension that never truly left your abdomen from your solo session had returned with what can only be described as a vengeance.

Bouncing up and down on Abby’s cock, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer. Blue eyes scan your whole body, one large rough hand resting on your hip as it helps guide your movements, the other holding one of your tits squeezing the flesh and every so often tugging the hardened nipple as her thumb ran over the sensitive flesh.

Abby’s hips remain surprisingly still, despite your pleas and begging, her stance stays unwavering. This entire session was most definitely on her grounds. Though her body remains relaxed yet unmoving, Abby’s eyes are burning with intensity you can clearly see it, the bubbling want and desperation underneath the stoney exterior.

“Abby-” you huff, exhaustion hits as your desperate moans are met with nothing but raised eyebrows and the occasional ‘yes, princess’.

“I wanna cum, please can I?”

“You’re asking permission, baby? And without being told, oh sweetheart, you can cum anytime you want.”

Without another word your hips slam down against Abby’s, the strap hitting impossibly deep inside as you cum, you rest on top of her. Folding over, you find your head resting underneath your wife’s chin as thick fingers come to the back of your head and her short nails give gentle scratches to your scalp, relaxing you further into the blonde’s firm, broad chest.

Pulling yourself away from Abby and off of her hips you see a creamy ring coating the hilt of the strap as you pull away from your wife. A heat rises to your cheeks once more as Abby sits up properly in the bed and yanks you down into her arms. “Thank you, baby. You did so good.”

Snuggling into her side, you kiss her cheek and strong square jawline as she loosens and slides the harness from her hips.

“Long day, doctor?” Your teasing brings a soft tired smile to Abby’s face as she lets herself yawn. “Like you wouldn’t believe, sweetheart.”

She turns to you, blue eyes staring into yours, deep icy pools that hold such love in them you can’t imagine them ever being cold, “I’m sorry if I was too pushy.”

You laugh and pull the covers up to surround the two of you, “Abigail. We have a safe word for a reason.”

“I know it’s just that-”

You shut her up with a kiss, and once you break it she seems to be content that you had enjoyed the evening, even before she got home. Content and with reassurance, Abby falls asleep and her little wife too.

☘️🦖☘️🦖☘️🦖☘️

Remember Reblogs make the World Go Round

REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN 💚

#abby anderson #tlou x reader #abby anderson x reader #drabble #abby anderson fan fiction #abby anderson smut #anon ask

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the-kr8tor · 5 months ago

Note

Idk why I hadn't thought of this before but uh, this my 2nd request:3

Bitter Orange for Hobie with💧who thinks he escaped alive with R (from wherever it's up to you but i can suggest like after getting some supplys or being stuck somewhere for a while because it was infested with zombies) and got back to their base safely but little did he know, they didn't tell him that they got bit ;3

I'd like to add to the request I just made (Bitter Orange Hobie w 💧) and uh, this can be optional ig? but can they be best friends who've been pinning over each other but now Hobie never got a chance to confess his feelings n stuff and maybe they do it in those last moments?

Thank you for requesting this heart wrenching fic lmaoo hope u like it!! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader

Word count: 1k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Zombie apocalypse AU, Zombie AU, CW blood, CW injury, TW death. Angst.

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

Hobie comes back to you after three days, he's drenched in sweat and grime. But it's all worth it for the two bags full of supplies that you two need. They're at least a month worth of survival, a month without needing to go out and put yourselves in danger. He could've brought you with him if not for your raging fever and cough, he had to go alone. A part of him was glad that he went alone, he was stuck in a warehouse for an entire day while waiting for the hoard to pass by. You would've hated waiting in the dark and damp place especially with your sickness.

You said you were fine to be left behind, that it was just a simple cold that you can fight with the leftover meds. But when he opens the unlocked door that he specifically told you to barricade, the rotting smell of flesh and decay greets him instead of your smile. It tells him that shouldn't have left. It tells him that his greatest fear has come true.

The bags he painstakingly heaved from the city to the cabin in the woods where you two had been surviving in for months now drops like a death knell on the dilapidated floors. It was home for you and Hobie, he still remembers the day you found it. His heart hammered in his chest when he turned around only to find you gone. And then your scream turned him into the fastest man alive, only to find you jumping for joy in front of the old hunter’s cabin.

He knows exactly why he was so afraid that day, even though it was just a second of you not by his side— he has never been without you. Through the years, way before the world ended, you've been by his side. Always latching on to him, always smiling at him. Or was it the other way around? Was it him latching onto you like paint on a wall? Or was it him who always smiled at you? Nevertheless, he loves you, he loves you even when the world ended. He loves you enough to drag himself across town to come get you while the world around him was burning and crumbling.

But he shouldn't have left, he shouldn't have stayed a day more to find you that bottle of shampoo you have always been on the lookout for. It was a surprise, a happy one this time, none of the walking dead jumping at you from a corner. He would do anything to see you smile again, just like when you found the cabin. You've been trying hard to stay positive for him, but he knows, and you knew that it was all to reassure him. He takes care of you and you take care of him, he wouldn't like it any other way.

Grief already clings to him like a vine snaking along a tree. It grips him tighter with every step he takes. Hobie's hand shakes as he reaches towards your shared bedroom door. He hoped that the smell would be gone by then, but it only persisted as he got closer and closer to the last place he saw you.

He should've told you he loves you.

Your milky white eyes are the first things he sees. He grips the door for balance, chest heaving, heart plummeting to his stomach.

You growl at him, skin no longer bearing life, skin shrunken around your nail beds, claws reaching towards him in a rush.

Hobie freezes and awaits your teeth tearing into his flesh, he'd join you, would that be so bad?

Yet, death doesn't come for him. Chains rattle behind you as you growl and desperately try to tear him apart. Hobie, now realizing what you've done to yourself, cries at the sight of your ankles bound on the bed. Your deathbed. You died alone and sick, you died without him by your side, you died crying for him. But it still crossed in your hazy mind to tie yourself down so when he comes home he doesn't face the same fate you had.

His sobs echo among your inhuman groans, tears streaming down his cheeks as you relentlessly try to grab him even in your bound state. Hobie refuses to look at you any longer, refusing to remember you like this. His eyes flick down at your feet. There's medicine scattered along the floor and bedside table. And there's still water left in your glass. A bloody bandage is still tightly wrapped around your thigh. A testament that you fought to stay human until he gets home, that you tried to cure yourself even though you knew it would be futile.

“Why didn't you tell me?” He asks in a broken voice, a voice he doesn't recognize as his own. “I could've stayed for you.” He knows that you didn't stop him because you didn't want him to see you slowly ebb away into a husk. That your death will break him apart right in front of you while he refuses to let you go. That his sorrowful face would be the last thing you ever saw. “I could've been here for you.”

You spared the both of you pain and suffering.

Hobie doesn't know what to do now, you're dead and gone. And there's no one left.

“I should've—” he inhales, slipping down from the wall to the floor. “I love you. I hope you knew that.”

You continue to slash at the air, chains rattling, bed frame pulling you away from him. Hobie sees a resemblance of you behind your foggy eyes, he can't help but think if you're still in there, that you're still fighting inside. He thinks you knew he loved you, he thinks that you might've felt the same after all those years with him. But that's all from his mind, all he wants now is to hear your voice again.

He just stays there on the floor, grief sinking him further down, eating him alive with every guttural growl you yell.

He shouldn't have left.

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umeqii · 7 months ago

Note

What r your headcanons for dating Varian? 😋

I'M SO HAPLY SOEMONE REQUESTED YHID JAHSJSJAHSAH (shinobu is me rn >_<)

also for the sake of my hyperfixation; i'm yur older sister in this story ;33

also tw some mentions of death ☆

fandom ; rapunzel tangled the series

character ; varian

reader ; gn

creator ; umeqii

okay, varian is the sweetest ever ^_^

ym would have met after his villain arc, and probably through rapunzel (ofc she's the mc)

you and raps met when she was on her adventure trip thingy for the black rocks

by the time something went wild bc whenever the rocks are involved, something always goes wrong, you guys definitely got very close!

and you guys frfr clicked into older sister and younger sibling

speaking of older sister (lmao this is where the best character and person ever comes in)

you have an older sister mari 😙🙀😋😘

okay so long story short, mariya's only a few years older than you, so she's 17-18

she took you in bc idk ur parents left you or smth and you went to an orphanage and got adopted by mariya

well she didn't take you in, her older sister rosalyne did :3

but rosalynes dead now xoxo

so that's when mari stepped in to fulfill her older sister's dream of eternity and bringing peace between people !!

you were 12 when rosalyne died; when you first met mari, she seemed really intimidating and angry (like younger shinobu, so that's why i added her as the photo :3)

rosalyne however, was very gentle and kind and she saw the best in everyone (like rapunzel !)

the reason why she wanted her eternity was because of how her husband died and he said she was pretty like his eternal love for her or smth idrk i'm literally dying of laughter rn writing this sorry

but idrk how rosalyne died, she probs js tripped on a knife and it stabbed her or sum but she's dead for the sake of the plot ☠️☠️

but yeah, mari stepped in and basically mimicked everything about rosalyne and kept her anger to herself (shinobu kinnie guys xx)

anyways, back to varian

once you were back to rapunzel's palace so you could meet all of her friends, varian saw you

he wasn't the type of boy who believes in love at first sight; but let me tell you somethin' !!

since he was the royal engineer, one of his inventions went kinda wrong and he was walking around to greet rapunzel with black smoke on his face, but not on his eyes thanks to his goggles, and messy ass hair ://

he was originally gonna find more mechanics to use but he heard raps' voice so he went to go see her

and then he saw you

oh my golly goshers

HIS JAW DROPPED 💯💯💥💥💥

you were smiling at rapunzel so sweetly and your eyes were so beautifully detailed??

were everyone's eyes like that?

this was the first time he ever stared at someone so much, not even when he had a puppy crush on cassandra

and the way the golden hour's light shone on one half of your face, it made you look angelic !

and when you opened your closed eyed smile, the light was obsorbed by the swirls of your iris (idk wtf an iris is i js saw it once in a book i thibk)

and then raps n you saw varian just standing there like he witnessed two people having the devils tango 😨😨

you ended up giggling slightly due to his current state and you brought your hand out, whilst introducing yourself, for a handshake

"hi there! i'm y/n!!" AND BROOO THE WAY YOU LOOKED AT HIM >

you looked at him so purely

AND MF KNEW THIS WASN'T A CASSANDRA TYPA CRUSH 😭😭😭💯💯💯

he was down bad lowkey

"o-oh!! h-h-hi varian, i'm y-y/n..NO WAIT, I-i'm varian, nice to meet you y/n."

i got 2nd hand embarrassment for writing that much stutters goddamn .

he thought he was cringey and just ruined all changed to talk to you

but you thought it was cute and dorky

and you have a thing for dorks

anyways, you guys got close after talking about alchemy ig idrk my head hurts like crazy

and when he frfr realised he was inlove with you was when he was trying to sleep, and he looked out of a window and saw a pretty flower

"hm. y/n would like that."

then he clocked it

why tf was he thinking about you 😭😭??

i mean who wouldn't :33

then he was just all like "oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh" as he stuffed his face into his pillow

oh and you knew you liked him from the first time ym met, bc dorks r cute idk

you asked him out though after about 6 months of being best friends

it don't matter if you get scared of rejection, your amazing older sister threatened that if you didn't ask him out, you wouldn't live with her anymore !!

(common mari W)

and yeah, you just said it randomly when he was working on a potion or whatever it's called

"hey y/n, this is an example on why you shouldn't put too much of this substance in-"

"i'm inlove with you, varian."

"WHAT"

and cue the explosion because he infact did put too much of the substance inside his potion.

"oh crap, my bad."

"but if you don't like me in that way, please just forget this whole conversation happened."

BUT HE DID?!?×??!?!

and yeah, since you guys are 14-16, you just hugged him and he spun you around as he kissed your cheek with a red face >3<!!

he's always so sweet and precious with you!!

dare i say rapunzel n mari made a bet to see who would ask the other out first

"ha. pay up, blondie."

"awh..fine."

rapunzel was rooting for varian and as already discussed, mari voted for yeewwww :333

varian however loved how enthusiastic yu were and how excited you were when talking about yur silly little interests >_<!!

whether yur a girl, guy, nb, or all of them, you fr taught varian skincare types of things to help with his eyebags

varian’s love language wld defo be acts of service and words of affirmation, so expect alot of that!1!

you would definitely hug and praiss him alot for his inventions, and even dating, he would always get stiff and flustered whenever any of this happened ^_^!!!

#umeqii #varian rta x reader #varian x reader #varian #varian tts #varian tts x reader #sighs and explodes my silly child #rapunzel tts #mari carried btw

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graciegoeskrazy · 6 months ago

Text

she's begging you to stay stay

Matty Healy + preteen!lost!daughter!OFC!r

warnings (buckle up): angst, little fluff, language, absent father, dead mom, cancer, children's home, R IS TWELVE, foster care, insomnia, a lot of these things are mentioned but aren't in graphic detail at all. R HAS A NAME IM TRYING SOEMTHING

a/n: I got this request and was lowk kinds unsure but I just started and couldn't stop typing. im nil a lot of that I post is super short but this like literally like 7 thousand words which Ig is pretty standard but whatevs for me its crazy. I might actually hate this I genuinely haven't decided yet. anon depending on what you think im ether sorry or you're welcome lol <3

You sit on the edge of your bed, staring at the peeling wallpaper, a million thoughts racing through your mind. You feel a mix of grief and numbness, a strange emptiness you can’t quite shake. The scent of mold and old candles is an odd comfort to the starkness and uncomfort of the room around you. You hear the faint sound of Nora’s voice drifting through the thin walls. You don’t move, just keep staring at your hands in your lap, the same position you’ve held for 3 days now, pretending not to hear the voice on the other side of the wall.

“Is this Matthew Healy?” she says, her voice steady.

“Depends. Who’s this?” The voice on the other end is wary, guarded.

“This is Nora from Wess Hill Children’s Home in London. How are you today?”

She could hear shuffling on the other side. “Fine. What’s this about?”

Nora takes a deep breath, glancing at your continuing. “Mr. Healy, on Tuesday we got a call asking for an emergency placement for a girl. Her mother passed away. She’s 12 years old, name is Matilda Moss - does that ring a bell?”

If you were right next to Nora you would have felt the unamusement in his voice. “‘Fraid not, ma’am.”

Nora’s expression tightens slightly. “Interesting. What I find really interesting is that on her birth certificate, it lists you, Mr. Healy, as her biological father.”

There’s a long pause. “I’m sorry, what?”

Nora sighs, her eyes softening as she looks back at your door again. “I’m sorry you have to find out this way, truly. But I have a home that only fits 24 and a long waitlist of children, so I need to know if I need to send this child into foster care or tell her that her father will be coming to see her.”

“W-Wait a minute. How are we even sure it’s my child? There could be thousands of other white blokes in London with the same name. How can I even believe you? How do I know you’re not a scammer or some idiot trying a prank?”

Nora’s voice remains calm, but there’s still an edge. “Does the name Florence Moss mean anything to you, sir? Ring any bells?”

The line went silent.

“I need to know what it’s gonna be, sir. I’m not trying to inconvenience you either way; I just need an answer.”

You hear a long sigh on the other end. “I-I don’t…I don’t know—”

“She was sick, Matthew. Cancer.”

There’s a heavy silence. Then, Nora speaks again, her voice gentle but firm. “Her will clearly states that in the unforeseen circumstance of death, She wanted her daughter to be placed with her father, you.”

Another pause. “What’s her name again?”

“Matilda George Moss-Healy.”

“And she’s 12?”

“12 and 2 months.”

A soft exclamation, almost a whisper. “Wow. I’ll be there at 3.”

It didn’t matter what Nora could do or say or give you to make you feel better, There was nothing that could be done in order to make the past 3 days not feel like a living hell. There was nothing you, yourself, could physically do to make the permanent ache in your heart disappear. The only thing, you thought, that could make this all go away, that could make this nightmare end, was your mother. But she was gone, and there was nothing that could be done. Your heart pounds in your chest as you realize that in just a few hours, you’ll meet the man you’ve wondered about your entire life.

—-------

If there was one thought that was evidently clear in Matty’s mind, it was that he needed to call George.

His hands trembled slightly as he fumbled for his phone, the sleek device feeling unusually heavy in his grasp. He pressed it to his ear, each ring seeming slower and slower as it rung. He paced the small, cluttered room, his mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

Finally, George’s voice crackled through the line, casual and unbothered. “Sup, dipshit.”

“I just got the strangest call,” Matty said, his voice strong, skipping over the usual pleasantries.

“‘Kay?” George’s tone was wary.

“From a woman working in a children’s home?” Matty continued, his mind still reeling from the conversation.

“What charity they want you to perform now?” George asked, his voice light but curious.

“No, it’s not that.” Matty paused, taking a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s about Flo? Florence Moss?” Matty’s voice wavered slightly, the name stirring up a flood of memories.

There was a noticeable pause, the air thick with anticipation. “Woah! That’s a name I never thought I’d hear again!” George finally replied, his tone shifting to something lighter, a huge comparison to Matty’s frantic state.

“So that’s a yes?” Matty pressed.

“You kidding? I LOVED Flo. She was like a sister to me! Shame though, innit?” He said, refurrging to the breakup Matty and Florence went through. “Anyways, what about her?” His voice softened.

“She died, George. Couple days ago. Cancer.” Matty’s words were blunt, but they carried a heavy weight.

Another long pause followed, the silence almost deafening. “You doin’ a bit? ‘Cause it’s not funny, mate-”

“It’s not a bit. And she had a child.” Matty’s voice broke slightly, the reality of the situation hitting him.

“What?” George’s shock was palpable, even through the phone.

“Who has my name on the birth certificate?” Matty continued, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach.

“You’re shittin’ me.”

“Not shittin’ you.”

George was in pure disbelief. “How can you be sure?”

Matty ran a hand through his hair, his frustration mounting. “Um, ‘cause Flo and I were together for like two fucking years and we broke up like 12 years ago and the girl’s age is 12?”

“It’s a GIRL? Oh mate, you’re fucked.” His bluntness would usually make him light, but this time it made him nearly question his entire life.

“Not the sentiment I need right now.” Matty snapped, his patience wearing thin.

“What are you gonna do?” George’s voice was calmer now, but still tinged with concern.

“I-I feel like I have to go get her? Right? Otherwise, she’s off to foster care? I mean, she’s my child. Right? I don’t know. Maybe not.” Matty’s words tumbled out in a rush, his uncertainty evident.

George sighed, a long, weary sound. “I think you’re fucked either way.”

“Oh, thanks sooooo much, Uncle George,”

“No. I mean, if you bring this girl with you, raise her, be a dad, do whatever the fuck, your life is gonna change, right? If you call that woman back, tell her to send her into foster care, although that woman might legally have to tell you ‘Okay. Thank you,’ we both know you would never forget her and maybe even end up regretting that choice.”

Matty stood in silence. He knew his friend was right. No matter what he chose, his life was about to be irrevocably changed. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility settling heavily on his shoulders, pressing down with a relentless force.

—-------

“Hi, um, I’m looking for Nora?” His voice echoed slightly in the wide, institutional hallway.

“Ah, you must be Matthew. Nice to meet you.” Nora’s voice, though warm, had an undertone of weariness, like someone who had spent years navigating the complicated emotions of others. She shifted uneasily. “I informed Matilda of your…arrival today…and she’s not the happiest about it.”

“Meaning?”

“She won’t come out of her room.”

“Oh. Great.” Matty ran a hand through his hair, worry clear on his face.

“Just…keep in mind she’s still mourning.” Nora’s sing-song voice couldn’t hide the gravity of the situation. She led him down a narrow hallway, the walls adorned with children’s drawings and faded motivational posters. The scent of old wood, cleaning supplies, and the faintest hint of sadness hung in the air.

“Tilly! Someone’s here to see you.” Nora’s voice called out cheerfully, a futile attempt to coax you out.

“Matilda! Come on out, darling, it's alright.” She paused, listening for any sound of movement. “You know I have the key right here; I can just open it if I wanted to.” Nora said, voice comedic for the times. “Tilly, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

After a silent few seconds, she took her ring of keys and picked one to unlock your door.

Inside your room, you sat curled up on the bed, hugging your knees to your chest. The peeling wallpaper, once probably a cheerful pattern, now seemed to close in around you, a suffocating reminder of the world outside your door. The scent of mildew and the faint smell of your mother’s perfume clung to your clothes, creating a strange, bittersweet comfort. Nora’s voice penetrated the cocoon of silence you’d wrapped yourself in.

“Tilly, this is Matthew.” Nora’s voice softened, a hint of sympathy in her words. “He’s here to take you home, my love.”

You visibly winced at the word ‘home.’ Home was a concept that had shattered the day your mother died.

Nora took a step towards your bed, slowly rubbing your back in order to coax you to come out. “Why don’t you sit up, my love?” Nora said gently. You didn’t move.

She sighed. “C’mon, Tills.”

With a heavy sigh, you slowly uncurled yourself and sat up.

Matty felt out of place, a stranger in a place that was the closest thing you had to refuge.

“I’ll just leave you two alone for a moment. I’ll be right outside.” Nora closed the door softly, leaving you and Matty in an awkward silence.

He took a tentative step closer, his eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and uncertainty. The room seemed to shrink around him as he struggled to find the right words. “I know you’ve gone through a lot in the past 48 hours,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his own emotions was evident, and he hesitated, unsure of how to bridge the gap between you.

You looked up at him, your eyes red from crying. The raw pain and vulnerability in your gaze made his heart ache. “You don’t have to take me with you out of…guilt,” you said, your voice trembling. “You don’t have to be here now just because you didn’t want to be here before.” The accusation hung in the air, a heavy reminder of his absence in your life.

He winced, the truth of your words cutting deep. “It’s not guilt, Matilda,” he replied, taking another step closer. “I genuinely didn’t know. If I had, things would have been different. I would have been there for you and your mother.” His voice broke slightly, the regret palpable. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m here now because I want to be. Because you deserve better than what you’ve been given.”

You studied his face, searching for any sign of dishonesty. His eyes were earnest, the sorrow in them mirroring your own grief. “Why didn’t she tell you?” you asked, the question that had been gnawing at you since you learned the truth.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the unknown. “Maybe she thought it was for the best. Maybe she was scared. I wish I had the answers, but all I can do now is be here for you.”

The silence stretched between you, filled with unspoken questions and the ghosts of what might have been. “I’ve spent my whole life wondering about you,” you finally said, your voice barely audible. “And now you’re here, and I don’t know what to think.”

He nodded, understanding the turmoil within you. “I can’t change the past, Matilda. But I can promise you this: I will do everything in my power to make sure you’re safe and cared for. I’ve got a house, with a nice room, food, and I think staying there would be better than the rotting twin mattress you’re sitting on in the smallest room I have ever seen that’s probably infested with black mold.”

“Everywhere in London has black mold,” you muttered, a hint of defiance in your voice.

“Mine might have less?” He offered a tentative smile. “Come home, Matilda.”

“I don’t have a home. Not anymore.” Your voice was barely a whisper, the pain of loss weighing heavily on your words.

“I’m not saying this has to be forever. If you want to leave and go live with someone else, then that’s fine by me, but if you don’t come with me tonight, they’re gonna put you in foster care with a family who more than likely won’t give a shit about you.” He paused, gauging your reaction. “She didn’t tell you that, did she?”

You shook your head, the reality of the situation sinking in. “I don’t want you to go somewhere without knowing that you’ll be safe.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He looked surprised, almost disbelieving.

You paused once more, “...Okay.”

—-------

Matty let you be for a moment as he told Nora about the news. She was overjoyed and surprised as well. They let you know that Matty would be taking you home. As they talked, your mind wandered, a turbulent mix of emotions swirling within you. You glanced around the room, noticing every detail—the worn carpet, the sagging ceiling, the chipped paint on the window sill. Everything felt surreal, as if you were trapped in a dream you couldn't wake up from.

You tried to grab his attention, your thoughts racing. You almost called out saying ‘Dad’ but stopped yourself just in time, the word feeling foreign and heavy on your tongue. The idea of calling him that seemed too intimate, too close for someone who had been a stranger just hours ago. Your mother had always been careful with her words when you asked about your father. She painted vague pictures of him, always avoiding specifics. Now that he was here, standing just a few feet away, the reality of his presence was overwhelming.

Would ‘Matty’ be awkward? He was indeed your father, but calling him that didn’t feel right either. You had no shared history, no foundation of familiarity. The name felt too casual, too friendly for someone who had suddenly appeared in your life amid the chaos and grief. You felt a pang of frustration, unsure of how to bridge the gap between you.

As you struggled with your thoughts, you offered a simple “Hey,” to get his attention instead. Your voice was soft, almost tentative, as if testing the waters of this new, uncertain relationship. He turned to you, his expression a mixture of relief and anxiety, mirroring the storm of emotions within you.

He responded with a gentle smile, his eyes searching yours for a connection. "Hey," he replied, his voice warm but cautious. In that moment, you both stood on the precipice of an unknown future, bound together by circumstance and the fragile hope that perhaps, in time, you could find your way to each other.

“I’m all ready to go, I think.”

“Awesome. I’ll get your things in the car.” He moved to gather your suitcases, his movements quick and efficient.

Nora hugged you tightly, her smile warm and genuine. “I’m happy for you, Matilda. You’ve been through a lot these past few days, and you’re doing so good.”

“Thank you for your help, Nora.” Your voice was soft, but there was a hint of gratitude in your words.

Her smile deepened as she led you from the desk to the front door. “I hope you know it comes from a good place when I say, I hope I never see you again.” The words made you laugh for the first time in three days, just a little, but it was a victory Nora cherished.

Matty muttered a few words when joining you in the car after bidding farewell to Nora. You didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at him.

“You allergic to dogs? I’ve got one. His name is Mayhem. Weird name for a dog, I know, but it suits him—not that he’ll be a problem or anything. He’s a good boy.” He tried to fill the silence, his voice almost nervous.

“Do you usually not talk this much?” You shrugged, your eyes fixed on the passing scenery.

“Only when my mom dies.” Your words were blunt, a stark reminder of the grief still fresh in your heart.

Oh, so she definitely has my humor. Matty thought to himself, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. The drive was filled with awkward silences and hesitant attempts at conversation, but beneath it all was a shared sense of loss and a fragile hope for something better.

—-------

The moonlight filters through the window, casting a soft glow over the cluttered room. You continue to scroll on your phone as you pull the worn, thin blanket back over your shoulders. A yawn crosses your features. It wasn't your plan to be up at 3 a.m., but insomnia has become a close friend since your mother passed away. It's been three weeks and four days since you moved in with Matty. He made it very clear from the beginning: if you didn’t want to live with him, that was fine. He was in full support of whatever you wanted, as long as you were safe. He was ready and willing to have the conversation with you as soon as possible. Having your mother die of cancer, meeting your father for the first time, burying your mother, adjusting to a new life you had no clue you would be living just a month ago, and so on and so forth took its toll. You started to worry that the waiting game of seeing how long this quiet could last was starting to run out.

The footsteps walking down the steps and into the kitchen pulled you out of your drowset state. It was matty, dress in blue lounge pants and shit, complete with a random flannel that you would bet he just picked up off the floor and threw on before he come downstairs,

"Good morning," he says with a yawn, his voice low but still awake, a stark comparison to your drowsiness.

"It's 3 a.m.," you reply, your voice tinged with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.

"Yeah, it's the morning," he says, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. He holds out a steaming mug, the rich aroma of coffee wafting towards you. "Want some?"

"Sure," you say, accepting the mug and wrapping your hands around it, savoring the warmth that seeps into your skin.

You take a sip, the bitter taste jolting you awake. You look anywhere except his direction."You a musician?" you ask, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," he nods, taking a seat across from you. "You?"

"No," you reply, shaking your head. You watch him, trying to piece together the fragments of your mother’s stories with the reality in front of you.

“Do you know why my mom used to tell me I was named after my father and an ‘old friend.’"

"‘Old friend’?" he echoes, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, my middle name. Matilda came from ‘Matty’,you knew that, but where did my middle name come from?” you continue, feeling a strange sense of vulnerability.

"What's that again?" he asks, leaning forward slightly, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. Also trying to not secretly swell with love as he was reminded of your similarities.

"George. Matilda George."

"George. Your middle name is George?" He looks at you with an expression you can't quite read.

"Jeez, I know it’s a guy's name but you don’t have to be a dick about it—" you snap, feeling defensive.

"No! No! It’s not that I just…" he trails off, shaking his head. He grabs his phone out of his pocket and walks towards you. "This is George." He shows you a photo, and judging by the state of Matty’s facial hair, it’s a semi recent one. The pair are on what looks like a stage, together. Drum sticks in George’s hand, and a Guitar in your father’s.

"You know him?" you ask, your confusion deepening.

He smirked. "We’ve been best friends since we were 13. Him and your mother were friends since practically birth. He introduced us to each other." He pauses, seeing the confusion etched on your face. "She never mentioned him?"

"She never mentioned you, so," you retort, the bitterness in your voice surprising even you.

You stare into your coffee, the steam rising and swirling in the dim light. You decide to speak up, trying to change the mood hanging in the air. "She also said my father traveled the world a lot, loved his friends, and loved me, but couldn’t take care of me," you say softly, repeating the words your mother had told you countless times. "You travel a lot?"

"Something like that," he replies, his eyes distant as if he's seeing a different time and place.

—-------

Matty didn’t like leaving you for too long, so he kept to working from home as much as possible. Today, he said he needed to help George with something and then he would be back with dinner from your favorite restaurant. He’s done this a few times before and each time, again and again, the urge to play the stunning grand piano situated in the corner of his office grew more.

You kept away from it. There were even spots or rooms in the house that you kept away from. Even though you and Matty were so much more comfortable, it still felt like there were boundaries, unspoken lines you weren’t sure you could cross. His office was one of those places, a domain you didn’t feel entirely comfortable invading. The grand piano, with its polished ebony surface and ivory keys, seemed like an artifact from another world, a world that you weren’t quite a part of yet.

Today, though, was different. The house was unusually quiet, the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway amplifying the stillness. You wandered through the rooms, your footsteps echoing softly on the hardwood floors. You paused by the door to Matty’s office, your hand resting on the doorknob. You glanced around, as if expecting someone to stop you, but the house remained silent.

You pushed the door open and stepped inside. The office was bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun, casting long shadows across the room. The grand piano sat in the corner, almost beckoning you. You walked over to it, your fingers grazing the smooth surface. You hesitated for a moment, then gently lifted the lid.

Taking a deep breath, you sat down on the bench. The familiar scent of polished wood filled your senses, bringing back memories of when you used to play. Your fingers hovered above the keys, and then, almost instinctively, they began to move. The first notes were tentative, but as you continued, they grew more confident, filling the room with music.

You closed your eyes, letting the music take over. The melody was a blend of old memories and new emotions, a testament to the changes in your life. The piano seemed to respond to your touch, the sound resonating deep within you. You lost track of time, immersed in the music, the outside world fading away.

You didn’t notice the front door opening or the soft footsteps approaching the office. Matty stood in the doorway, watching you with a mixture of surprise and admiration. He had come home earlier than expected, and the sight of you playing the piano was both unexpected and heartwarming. He leaned against the doorframe, not wanting to interrupt this rare moment.

Once the last notes sounded, he spoke, startling you as you took your hands off the keys. “Sounds beautiful,” he said softly.

You jumped slightly, your fingers slipping off the keys. You turned to see him standing there, a gentle smile on his face.

“When did you get home?” you asked, a bit flustered.

“Just now,” he replied casually, stepping into the room.

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked, feeling a mix of embarrassment and curiosity.

“Long enough to realize you lied to me,” he said, his smile turning into a teasing grin.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“You’re a musician! You play piano.”

You paused, thinking, then continued. “Well, you lied to me too.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“You never mentioned you were in a band. A really famous one!”

His expression changed. “I didn’t lie to you, I just didn’t tell you.”

“Why?”

He took a deep breath, his expression softening. “Well, what do you say when you're meeting your 12-year-old daughter for the first time? I don’t know, but I do know it’s definitely not ‘Nice to meet you, I’m famous,’ I’ll tell you that.” You couldn’t help but smile at his honesty. “How’d you find out?” He asked.

You adjusted your posture and spoke. “I finally told my friends, and we did an internet deep dive in English class.”

He chuckled. “And I wonder why that’s the only class with a B.” He said, leaving the room as he did so.

You followed behind him, the both of you now making your way to the kitchen. “Is that why she said you traveled a lot? Because you were on those tours?” you asked, the pieces starting to fit together.

“I can only guess,” he replied, shrugging. You sat on one of the bar stools, across from where he was unpacking the groceries and starting to prepare dinner.

“Have you ever met Beyoncé?” you asked, your eyes wide with excitement.

“Only in passing,” he said nonchalantly, keeping his focus down.

You sat up in shock. “Really?!” You asked, mouth agape.

“I mean, yeah. It’s hard not to go to the Grammys and not walk past her and Jay-Z’s table.”

“You’ve been to the Grammys?” you asked, amazed.

“Yeah, we were nominated.”

You honestly couldn;t believe it. While spending that time on the internet earlier, a lot of the pieces were starting to come together. It’s just that you didn’t expect your own father - I guess I should start calling him that now - to be this huge ‘star’. “Shut up! Did you win?”

He laughed and looked you in the eyes. “Do you see a shiny gold trophy in our home? Should’ve though.” You shook your head in amazement. “How long have you been playing?” he asked, after a moment.

You became a bit quiet again, not impressed by the fact the conversation was heading this direction. “I don’t know,”

“What was it that Miss Julia said? About being open and honest with each other or something like that-”

“Ten years,” you interrupted, shooting him an unimmpressed look. He just smiled.

“Wow. How the hell did your mother get a two-year-old to stand still?” He asked.

“Well, I was an angel,” you said, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Really? What happened then?”

You rolled your eyes and let out a slightly dramatic sigh. “Those dad jokes kicked in real fast, didn’t they?”

The room seemed to grow warmer as the two of you shared this moment. The room grew quieter, but it felt different than before. It felt, comfortable. The kind of comfortable silence you only felt with your mother. Even if it wasn’t exact - even knowing you might not ever feel that exact comfortable silence ever again - this one felt nice. It felt…right.

“You know, you’re really good,” He said.

Your eyes followed back to him after his voice took you out of your own thoughts.

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks after deciding to not turn the compliment into something cheeky.

“I mean it,” he continued. “You have a natural talent.”

You just hummed. And he was glad to see you smile a true smile for the first time.

The lines that once seemed so rigid began to blur. The house, with its many rooms and hidden corners, started to feel less like a maze and more like a place where you could both find and create new memories together. Life started to feel hopeful. And even if it was for just that moment, it would be nice while it lasted.

—-------

Matty paced back and forth in his living room, phone clutched tightly in his hand. The sun had barely risen, casting long shadows across the room, but the day had already brought an unsettling sense of dread.

“She’s gone,” Matty said into the phone, his voice trembling with panic.

George’s voice crackled on the other end. “Who’s gone?”

“Matilda.”

“What do you mean she’s gone?”

“She’s left,” Matty said, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I got an alert from her school that she didn’t show up today. I looked in her room, her duffle bag was gone and some clothes were off their hangers in her closet. I think she ran away.”

“What? Okay, don’t panic. Are you sure?” George’s tone was urgent but tried to stay calm.

“Yes!” Matty’s voice rose, frustration and fear mingling. “I don’t know where she could’ve gone!”

“Okay- it’s okay. Calm down. We’ll find her.” His voice was firm, trying to ground Matty’s spiraling thoughts.

Your father heard Adam’s voice from the back. “How are we supposed to know what we’re looking for? We’ve never met the kid.”

“It’s my face, with my hair but longer, on the face of a pre-teen girl,” he said, his voice breaking slightly as he tried to scramble to find his keys. Just then, his phone rang. “I’m getting another call, hold on.”

He hung up George’s line and answered, hopeful it was an answer to getting you back on the other end.

“Hi, I’m calling from the London Police Department. I’m calling for a Matthew Healy?” a calm voice said.

“Yes, this is he.”

“Hello, sir. We’ve got a report for a runaway juvenile by the name of Matilda Moss-Healy,” the officer said, his tone professional and steady.

Matty’s stomach dropped, a cold fear gripping him. “Yes, that’s my daughter. Is she okay?”

The officer’s voice remained calm. “She’s safe. A concerned citizen noticed her alone. She’s here at the station.”

Relief flooded through Matty, making his knees weak. He let out a shaky breath. “Thank you, thank you so much. I’ll be right there.”

He hung up, immediately calling George back. “She’s at the police station. She’s safe.”

“Thank God,” George muttered. Not that Matty could see it but his face showing visible relief.

“Let’s go get her,” Ross said, already heading for the door, determination in his stride.

Adam leaned into the phone for Matty to hear him. “We’re with you, mate. We’ll come pick you up and then we can head there.”

—-------

There was a group of officers in uniform huddled near the front desk. Matty ran straight for them, his friends not far behind. His heart pounded in his chest, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Hi, I'm looking for my daughter, Matilda. I got a call saying she was here,” he said, the urgency in his tone barely masking the anxiety coursing through him.

One of the sergeants, a tall man with a stern but kind face, nodded and spoke. “Right this way.” His voice was steady, a professional calm that contrasted sharply with the turmoil inside Matty.

As they walked, the sergeant began to explain. “A biker a few miles away noticed a young girl using an ATM and riding the metro alone. Thought it was suspicious for a 12-year-old.” The sergeant's words were clear, but they blurred together in Matty’s mind, his focus elsewhere. He kept nodding, mumbling a simple ‘mhm’ at intervals. His mind raced with thoughts of you—how you must be feeling, what you must be thinking. All he could do was silently hope you were okay. However, he wouldn’t hesitate to punish anyone who would even try to lay a finger on you.

He unconsciously quickened his pace, causing the officer to lengthen his strides to keep up. The hallway seemed endless, the sterile scent of the station mingling with the adrenaline that coursed through his veins. Finally, the sergeant’s voice broke through his thoughts. “She’s right in there. Take all the time you need, or no time at all.”

Matty nodded, his throat tight, and the sergeant walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts for a moment. Ross, Adam, and George appeared from behind, having finally caught up with their friend. They all stood before a large glass screen, its dark tint revealing it to be a one-way mirror. You couldn’t see them, but they could see you.

“That’s your face alright,” Adam said softly, causing Matty’s lips to twitch into a short, bittersweet smile. His eyes never left the glass, never left you.

He turned around to face his friends, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. “Just give us a minute, yeah?” The three nodded in understanding, sharing a look of solidarity and concern, and walked back to the front reception desk.

Matty took a deep breath, steeling himself before he entered the room. His heart ached with a mixture of hope and fear. He pushed the door open slowly, his eyes landing on you immediately. You sat there, looking small and lost in the large, sterile room, your eyes wide with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

You didn’t notice the metal door creak open. Too lost in your own anxious state of mind. “Matilda,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. As your eyes met his, he felt a wave of emotion crash over him, almost overwhelming in its intensity.

You bolted toward him, your shaky legs propelling you forward as fast as they could. The moment you collided with him, it rocked him back on impact. You clung to him, your small frame trembling as you buried your face in his chest, sobs wracking your body. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your dirt-streaked hair.

He took in your state, his heart breaking at the sight. Your hair was matted slightly with grime, and you smelled of cigarettes and the harsh streets of London. But despite your disheveled appearance, you were safe. Not a scratch or mark on you. Relief washed over him, mingling with the overwhelming urge to protect you from ever feeling this kind of fear again.

“Tilly-” he began, his voice choking with emotion.

“I’m sorry,” you interrupted, your voice muffled against his chest.

“It’s okay-” he started to say, but you cut him off again.

“I’m so, so sorry.” Your sobs intensified, your words tumbling out in a desperate rush.

“Tilly, it’s okay, just calm down-” His voice was soothing, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling inside him.

“I was just so scared.” Your voice was small, filled with a vulnerability that shattered his heart.

“It’s okay, baby. Breathe,” he murmured, his hand gently rubbing your back in a comforting rhythm.

“I won’t do it again! I swear! I just—”

“Matilda. Look at me.” His voice was firm yet gentle, his hands cupping your face as he tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

You nodded, tears still streaming down your face but your breathing began to steady under his calming influence.

“Let’s go home, yeah? We’ll talk about it later, just let me take you home.” His voice was soft, filled with a promise of safety and comfort.

You nodded again, a small, broken “okay” escaping your lips. He hugged you tightly once more, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

He guided you to the front where the boys were waiting anxiously. Your head remained bowed, avoiding their concerned gazes. He gently sat you on the opposite end of the row of chairs, his touch soft and reassuring. “I’m gonna talk to my friends real quick, alright? They came with me, they wanted to help find you.” Your gaze drifted to the three men on the other side of the room. More specifically, to George, remembering the things Matty had told you about him and your mom and remembering his photo. “I also need to thank the policeman before we leave. I need you to stay here for a minute, can you do that for me?” You nodded silently. He gave you a short smile, and kissed your cheek before standing to find his friends.

As you sat there, lost in your thoughts, he turned to his friends. You were well prepared to space out again, but not before your eyes drifted to George one more time. His eyes met yours and gave them a smile. You smiled back.

“Thanks for coming, guys,” Matty said, his voice low but filled with gratitude. “I’ll get us home, we can catch the tube or grab an Uber or something.”

Ross, ever the practical one, nodded. “No problem, mate. We’re here for you. Just glad she’s okay.”

Adam’s eyes were filled with empathy as he glanced at you, then back to Matty. “Yeah, anything you need. Don’t hesitate to call.”

George, however, wasn’t ready to leave so easily. “Matty, let us at least make sure you guys get home safe. You shouldn’t have to handle this alone.”

Matty shook his head, though he appreciated the sentiment. “I know, George, but It’s fine. I swear.”

George sighed, his concern evident. “Alright, but if you need anything, call us. Anytime.”

Matty nodded. “I will.”

With that, the three men exchanged solemn glances, their concern for Matty and you clear in their eyes. They began to walk out of the police station, their footsteps echoing softly in the quiet space.

As they left, Matty turned back to you, his heart aching at the sight of your small frame hunched over, your head still hung low, anxious of what was to happen next. He walked over and sat down beside you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s get you home, okay?”

#PART 2???????????#AHAHAHAH SORRY BITCHHHHHH #thx anonss!!#the 1975 #x daughter!reader #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy x daughter!reader #matty the 1975 #matty x reader #george daniel

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