#teenage dream!matty

[sugar-coat-it]

Teenage Dream

Let you put your hands on me in my skin-tight jeans

Be your teenage dream tonight <3

Contains: Drive Like I Do!Matty, slightly subby Matty, first times, young love 🥲, dry humping, hair pulling, Matty being a down bad dork, giggly little mishaps, guided fingering, unsubtle dirty talk, protected penetrative sex, hand-holding during sex, Matty fighting for his life not to cum, first L word

Fem! Reader

WC: ~7.8k

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2007ish: Completely inexperienced but so eager, Matty and his girlfriend have their first time

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Matty can hardly shut the door before your hands are on him, you’re all over him in every sense of the term. You crush your lips to his, making him stumble slightly from the force of your kiss. He smiles against your mouth at your impatience, his chuckle swallowed by the eager locking of your lips. You feel your head swim, almost dizzy at the passion being exchanged as trembling hands reach for everything they can touch, it’s almost like your brain is dripping down your spine. Matty’s fingers knot into your hair as he walks you backward until you’re pressed against his front door. You can practically feel his adrenaline thrumming in his veins, rushing to his every nerve as he licks into your mouth with fervor. He’s still brimming with the rush from his gig, and you’re reeling from the memory of watching him perform. It’s honestly a miracle you’d made it inside his house at all considering the frenzied heat burning you both up from the inside, the flames fanned by the knowledge of what’s planned for the night. Every kiss is sealed with the promise of more.

You can feel the heat radiating off of Matty’s body as he keeps you trapped between his lanky frame and the door, your teeth slightly clashing with his from the intensity of the kiss. He pulls away to catch his breath, panting hot fans of air over your lips as he grins at you widely, toothily. 

“What?” you prompt, breathless, pursing your lips playfully.

Matty swallows thickly, seemingly frozen for a moment as his eyes search your face, quietly observing your touseled hair, swollen lips, cheeks tinged a lovely shade of pink: his new favorite shade of pink. He shakes his head, his thick, dark (and messily side-parted) hair swaying. 

“Nothing, nothing. Sorry. I just–” he pauses, glancing away for a moment like your stare is burning a hole into him, “I dunno… you look very pretty tonight.”

Something sparks in you at that, the realization that Matty, your Matty, was getting a little shy, trying to hide it by looking everywhere but at you. When he finally glances back, finding you a little awestruck, he just smiles fondly, his lips almost a little wobbly. He makes a surprised noise as you pull him by the collar of his shirt into another heated kiss, his hands pawing down your back to hastily grasp the curve of your ass through your jeans. He presses himself impossibly closer to you, his hips flush against yours as excitement thickens the air around you. A tingly shiver rushes through you, leaving blooming warmth in its wake as you feel the tenting in his pants protruding against you. Matty pulls away from your mouth, beginning to press wet, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. You can feel the sound of a low groan rumbling through his chest as he licks a stripe from your collarbones to your jawline.

His hips make a sudden, reflexive jump forward as you tighten your grip on his hair, tugging just enough to draw a wanton moan from his lips. Matty chokes, a new, fizzling sensation arising in him as he realizes just how damn good that felt. Tentatively, he tries again, rolling his hips into you and immediately cursing under his breath at the feeling. Your eyes go wide as the seam of your jeans catches on you just right while he begins to mindlessly search for friction against you. You let out mirrored, breathy moans as Matty lifts his head from the crook of your neck, the both of you staring at each other in awe of your little discovery, sparks flying like stray shooting stars. His gentle, dark eyes twinkle as he watches your expression closely, kiss-bitten lips parted and shining. 

“O-oh shit,” he murmurs, his eyes rolling back slightly as he continues to grind into you. 

The friction is dizzying as you begin to rock into him, matching his slightly stuttered rhythm as you sigh out, giving his dark tresses another pull with the fingers intertwined in his hair. Matty reaches for your thighs, grasping at the back of them pointedly to get your attention. He’d seen it in a music video before, one that his mother wouldn’t approve of him watching on late-night MTV. The girl had jumped up to straddle the guy's waist while they kissed passionately against the wall. That little scene had been nestled in his mind ever since he saw it, he was frankly a little obsessed with it. How hard could it be to replicate? “Straddle me,” he pants, his greedy fingertips digging into the denim of your jeans. 

“What? How?” you whisper, feeling almost lightheaded at the suggestion. 

“Just- erm… jump, I’ll catch you, yeah?” 

You just laugh, shaking your head with a bit of uncertainty, but Matty seems anything but uncertain. He stares back at you with determined eyes, his hands twitching like they’re ready to hold your weight up at any moment. With nothing to lose (except your tailbone in one piece), you jump and wrap your legs around Matty’s slender hips with a squeak. His eyes go wide as he wobbles slightly, but his hands firmly grasp your thighs to keep you upright, seeming absolutely petrified at the idea of dropping you. Your eyes lock and you share a triumphant, breathy laugh while you place your hands around his neck, Matty beaming at you boyishly. 

Heat prickles at your cheeks as you realize just how much more distinctly you can feel him through his skinny jeans in this position. Experimentally, you rock your hips forward, relishing in the way Matty’s mouth drops with a gasp, his brows drawing together tightly. His head bows forward, his forehead dropping to your shoulder with a resounding “fuck”, the pressure in his pants only getting achier. You can feel him twitch beneath the measly layers of fabric. 

Within only seconds, you’re both eagerly moving against each other, gasping as the heat between you gets more intense with every needy roll of your hips. Matty whines, his face buried in the crook of your neck amidst the frenzied chase for sensation, he could swear he’s never been so hot and bothered. Neither of you is thinking, you let your bodies speak everything your hazy minds could never express. You’ve never felt so insatiable in your whole life. Hot, liquid need is corroding you, it’s building to new heights, it’s–

 Suddenly, Matty’s whole body tenses against you, a strangled noise tearing through him that sparks a flutter between your thighs. He presses his hips forward hard as if trying to pin you against the door with his body so tightly that you wouldn’t move, his blunt fingernails biting into your skin through your pants. Your eyes go wide at the way your boyfriend has just about seized up, your body going stagnant against his.

“Wait-wait, fuck, just slow down a second, I-I’m actually gonna cum in my pants if you keep doing that. Fucking hell,” he rambles, barely able to get the words out as he gasps for breath, utterly flushed.

The revelation washes over you like an electrifying wave, your lips parting with surprise. The knowledge that he’d almost creamed his skinny jeans just from some kissing and grinding makes you feel almost… powerful. Pride warmly simmers in your chest as you gently pet his hair, watching him with a bit of fascination.

Matty desperately clutches at your thighs, his breath hot and heavy against your neck as he wills his body to get back under his control. He’s internally cursing himself for getting so carried away, almost letting this end before it had even begun. He mutters out a breathless apology, his soft lips grazing your skin. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t suppressing a giggle at the moment, forcing your lips not to crack with a smile. 

“Fuck me! You’re a menace,” Matty groans, biting at your shoulder in retaliation. 

“What is wrong with you!?” you protest, giggling as he lightly sinks his teeth into your skin, grinning while he does it. You’d argue that if anyone’s a menace, it’s him. 

He soothes over the mark he left with his tongue, finally loosening his vice grip on your legs now that he’s not seconds away from embarrassing himself. Matty lifts his head up, gently pressing his forehead to yours, gazing at you quietly while you toy with his hair, rendering his brain practically useless with how nice it feels. His eyes are searching yours, staring back at you with pupils so blown, his eyes look almost black.

“Do you wanna go up to your room?” you whisper, the implications making Matty’s breath catch in his throat.

He doesn’t even let the question hang in the air for an entire second before he replies, practically tripping over his words. “Yeah. Yes, absolutely,” he says, his voice cracking slightly as he tries to contain his excitement. 

You smile at him, ruffling his hair just to watch him keen into your palm. Matty slowly eases you back down onto your wobbly legs. He snickers at the way your knees buckle slightly, earning him a smack on the arm as you start to chase him up the stairs, bounding your way to his bedroom as fast as your legs can carry you while his loud laugh echoes through the empty house. 

Once you reach his door, Matty insists that you let him go inside first to set things up. You snort at the way he opens the door just wide enough for him to shimmy through the slim crack, not wanting you to see his room unprepared. You shake your head at his pure, unbridled dorkiness, but really, you can’t ignore the way it affects you to know how much he cares. Many boys your age would have already finished up with you in their dingy room after a sloppy affair of shallow thrusts and a faked orgasm on a bed with no sheets. 

What you can’t see beyond the door is Matty fishing in his pockets for his lighter after setting out candles he’s “borrowed” from his mother’s bathroom. He’d picked up a few small, unscented candles from the ledge of her bathtub, wrinkling his nose at the intense, unsexy aroma of jasmine and mahogany ones they were surrounded by. Matty carefully lights each of the scattered candles, trying his hardest to control the slight nervous quiver in his hands. He nods, satisfied at the way the amber glow hazily paints his walls (girls dig stuff like that, right?). 

He watched the gentle flickering of the flames for a moment, making sure nothing was going to catch fire before he moved to his next task, reaching into one of his cluttered drawers for a CD he’d burned for the occasion. He thought it’d be far too cliche to actually write “sex playlist” on the disc, instead opting for the more tasteful scribble of your initials put together. He’d spent hours trying to compile the perfect list of songs to soundtrack an intimate moment, getting a little lost in imagining how your gasps of pleasure would intertwine with the music.

Matty grins to himself as he glances around the room, everything set in place how he’d imagined it, perfectly organized teenage boy chaos. He’d even made his bed for once, flannel sheets tucked back and smoothed the best that he could.

Just as he was about to open the door, a particular piece of wall decor caught his eye: a magazine cutout of a topless model glaring from the corner of his room. He gives the nameless model a once-over, hesitating for a moment before crossing the room and tearing it off of the wall, the scotch tape flaking away bits of paint. It felt cool at the time, very cool. But now he’s pretty sure he’d rather fling himself from the window than let you see it, god forbid compare yourself to it. 

A soft grunge song plays quietly in the background as Matty swings the door open, arching his eyebrows at you boyishly. You roll your eyes and push past him, admiring how unusually in order his bedroom is, grateful to not be slipping on a t-shirt strewn on the floor as you cross the room to his bed. As you take a seat on the edge of it, Matty trails behind you, watching with a love-struck, dorky smile pulling at his lips. He almost trips over his feet to sit down next to you when you motion for him to come, curling a finger in his direction. Matty kicks off his beat-up sneakers and slips his graphic t-shirt over his head on the way, revealing his lean torso. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same giddiness bubbling inside you, unable to suppress a fond smile as the bed dips under his weight. 

“Cute candles,” you whisper, drawing him closer, “are they for me?” “Nah, I have them out all the time. It’s kinda a new thing I’m–”

You stop him mid sarcastic quip by pressing your lips to his (with no protests from Matty). Between exchanges of sweet kisses, Matty reaches out for the hem of your shirt, his eyes searching your face as he waits for your permission, his breath bated. You nod at him, watching as he shudders with excitement, bursting at the seams. He pulls the fabric upwards while biting his lower lip raw, ogling you as more and more of your soft skin is exposed to him. 

Matty’s eyes nearly pop out of his head as he spots the lace of your bra, revealed to match your panties as you squirm out of your jeans, letting them crumple to the floor in a heap. He swiftly lifts your shirt the rest of the way off, carelessly tossing it over his shoulder. His Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. 

His brain might as well be short-circuiting, his hands frozen in place, hovering by your sides as he shamelessly stares at the way your breasts look, snug in the intricately patterned lace, the heart locket he’d saved up to get you for your birthday sitting perfectly between them. Your heart thrums against your ribs as you watch his hungry eyes rove over you, heat simmering at your cheeks as you wait for him to do something, anything. The silence from the normally motor-mouthed boy feels like somewhat of an accomplishment. 

Slowly, a pleased smile spreads across Matty’s face, one of his hands gingerly moving to trace a single finger across the lace of your bra, delicately running over the cups with pure awe written all over his face. 

“Oh my god… did you get this for me? Shit, that’s so mint,” he beams, his eyes twinkling. 

“Please don’t say “That’s so mint” when we’re about to have sex.” 

Matty’s eyes flicker up to your face with a start, his thick eyebrows shooting upwards as if he’d just realized the words that had come out of his mouth, his hand pausing its gentle exploration. 

“Erm, right. I meant incredibly hot and sexy and beautiful and hot. Yeah. Did I mention hot already?” he clarifies, smiling sheepishly, “Can I touch more?”

You let out an amused exhale through your nose before permitting him, watching his pretty eyes light up. When you’d bought the set at the mall, you imagined his hands would be all over you, tearing it off like gift wrapping the first chance he got. A beautiful first impression left forgotten on the floor of his bedroom. But he doesn’t. Matty carefully brings his palms to your breasts, his breath hitching as he cups them, feeling their weight. Experimentally, he gives them a squeeze, a shudder running through his lanky body. He smiles up at you giddily, his cheeks flushed as he looks at you like you’re nothing less than his entire world. 

“Can… can I kiss them, too?” he whispers tentatively. 

A soft pant is stolen from your lips at the question. Wordlessly you bring your hand to the back of his head, your fingers entangling in his hair as you guide him forward. Matty’s eyes swim with wonderment as he brings his mouth to the swell of your breast in a tender kiss. He moans softly, lashes fluttering as he trails his lips along the edge of the lace, mouthing a slow line up to the satin strap as his hands continue to knead your chest. 

A slight smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he sees the blissful look on your face, quickly wiped away as you gently tug on the strands of hair caught between your fingers. Matty’s eyebrows draw together, running his tongue over his plush bottom lip before he dips his head down to the valley between your breasts, pressing a kiss to your gold locket. Somehow, it feels even more intimate than his lips on your skin. 

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispers against the pendant. 

Matty’s nimble fingers snake up your back, feeling over the warmth of your skin almost with reverence. He leans his cheek against the softness of your chest, nuzzling his face into you as his hands work to undo the hooks of your bra. You feel him blindly fumbling with the band for a few moments before it comes loose, allowing him to fully trace his fingertips down the expanse of your spine. 

Slowly, Matty eases you backward, laying you down onto his sheets with such gentleness that your heart aches, the straps of your bra sliding down your arms at gravity’s manipulation. He slots himself between your legs, his slim hips settling against yours before finally allowing his gaze to drop to your bare chest, sucking in a sharp breath. You feel him twitch against your thigh through his skin-tight pants as he breathes out something strained and incoherent.

Matty begins to lean down, in turn accidentally pulling on your hair that’s trapped under his palm. You jolt, quickly reaching to grab his wrist with a hiss. He freezes above you for a split second before pulling away, staring down at his hand like he’d been seared. He looks absolutely petrified as he glances back at you, apologies spilling from his lips like opened floodgates, asking if you’re alright. You can’t help but giggle at the pure horror on his face as if he’d ripped out a section of your hair.

“Matty,” you whisper, smiling warmly as you reach and cup his face, running your thumbs over his burning cheeks, “it’s okay, I’m fine!”

You watch the tension slowly melt away from his rigid posture as he nods slowly, a sheepish smile pulling at his lips. It isn’t long before he’s giggling along with you, leaning his forehead against yours as you laugh, Matty’s music playing quietly in the background.

“You’re… so perfect,” he murmurs in between laughter, his breathless giggles making his tone sound giddy, “I mean that… you’re just so-” he doesn’t finish as he dives forwards, silencing himself by pressing his lips against yours.

You’re both smiling into the kiss, barely able to move your lips because of the way you’re grinning, ending up bumping teeth more than making out. Matty’s hands envelop your breasts, gently thumbing over your pebbling nipples, making you sigh into his mouth happily. He groans against your lips, the heat between you spiking again and he pulls away just enough to speak, his lips brushing against yours as he continues to flick his thumbs. 

“Fuck. Can I finger you? Really want to make you cum,” he murmurs, his eyes darting over your face.

Your eyes widen at his blunt question, heat flushing through your body as your breath gets stuck in your throat. How can he just say that so casually?

“Christ, Matty!” you whisper-shout, your fingers tensing at the sides of his face.

He tilts his head at you, blinking much like a clueless puppy, clearly not having a grasp of the nuances of subtle dirty talk. Though he certainly hadn’t spun his words with any flowery language, there was something about his lack of finesse that was… a little hot. He was saying exactly what he was thinking, and you suppose that rawness has its own kind of appeal. 

“Is… is that a no?” he frowns, tilting his chin down dejectedly as he looks up at you through his lashes, his hands slowing to a stop.

“No– no babe,” you answer quickly resuming the gentle running of your thumbs over his flushed cheeks with a breathless laugh, “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”

You realize that you don’t have much of an answer for him, not when he’s looking at you with such sweetness, such eagerness to make you feel good. You shake your head softly, leaning up to kiss the tip of his nose, causing his face to scrunch up with a chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Yes, you can touch me,” you whisper, watching a slow grin spread across his lips. 

Matty places a quick kiss on your lips before sitting up to slowly hook his fingers into the waistband of your panties, gently tugging them down your legs with the aid of you lifting your hips off of the mattress. He sucks in a breath as you slowly spread your legs for him, a burning feeling swelling inside you as you let yourself be exposed to him, to anyone, for the first time. Insecurity rattles in your head and gnaws at your insides, but when you see the look on your boyfriend’s face, the whole world stops.

Matty lays on his side next to you, his hand coming to your inner thigh as he gently strokes his thumb over your soft skin, eyes unable to stay in one place as he gawks at the sight of you naked in his bed. His girl. In his bed. No clothes. He’s not entirely sure that he’s not dreaming. 

Tentatively, Matty allows his hand to skim up your thigh, swallowing hard as he feels more of the heat emanating from between your legs the higher he goes. You force yourself to keep breathing, watching his trembling hand as he musters up the courage to cup your heat, listening to his gasp as he feels the slickness at his calloused fingertips. Tingling sensations flood your senses at the contact, a throb resounding between your legs at the uproar of unfamiliar feelings. You’re hyperaware of each of his fingers as you feel him experimentally dip them into your pooling arousal, the sight of Matty’s hand between your thighs alone is enough to make your face burn, your heart race. 

“You’re so wet,” he whispers, the word “wet” coming out like a secret just between the two of you.

Matty glances up at your face, watching your expression carefully as he slowly begins to move his fingers, sliding them back and forth through the wetness, feeling your honeyed folds spread under the gentle pressure of his fingertips. You meet his gaze as your lips part with a shaky breath, his pupils blown wide as he continues his exploratory grazes. 

With his slick middle finger, he feels over you till he finds your slit, slowly pushing inside of you. Matty moans lowly as if he’s the one being pleasured, his gaze transfixed on the sight of his single finger sinking into you, easily being taken into your tight warmth until he’s knuckle deep. His hips instinctively jerk forward, rutting his clothed erection against your leg as you share a mirrored, shuddering exhale. Matty’s fingers feel starkly different than your own, they’re thicker, and longer, with guitar calluses at each of his fingertips that graze your velvety walls. 

The sensation feels foreign, but not uncomfortable as he begins to gradually pump the digit in and out of you, the both of you watching his maneuvers with widened eyes. He doesn’t have much rhythm, but he’s trying his best to learn as he goes. And god… the look on his face. He’s eager, so eager. 

“Is- is this good?” he asks hesitantly, his eyes searching your expression for approval.

You bite your lower lip, not fully knowing how to walk the fine line between guiding him and embarrassing him. The feeling of his finger inside you is enough to make you pant, to make heat stir inside you, but certainly not enough to make you cum. “It’s good, babe. But, what feels really good is when you touch…” you whisper, beginning to gently guide his thumb to your aching clit, “Here.”

Matty’s lips part with an “oh”, his cheeks flushing slightly at your correction. He allows you to direct his hand, lightly brushing his thumb over the swollen bundle of nerves with gentle uncertainty. You jolt slightly at the fizzling spark of pleasure that courses through you. That’s much… much better. 

You feel Matty shudder as you place your fingers over his thumb, pressing the digit down more firmly as you guide him to move in slow, tight circles in tandem with the pumping of his middle finger. Sighing out, you begin to roll your hips against his hand in search of more friction. You can feel Matty’s stare burning into you even as your eyes squeeze shut, the boy focusing so intensely on your every reaction to gauge if he’s doing a good job. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” he asks, sinking a second finger inside you as he lets you puppeteer his hand, studying your face.

“Yes… yes,” you gasp, your lashes fluttering as the heat and tension whirl, coiling tighter in your belly. 

“You sound so pretty,” he murmurs breathlessly, looking like he wants to bottle up all the noises you make and keep them for himself, “Can I try on my own?”

Your eyes flutter open hazily, catching sight of his flushed features, his widened eyes. You nod at him, slowly pulling your hand back and resting it on your stomach. Matty bites his lip with concentration, doing his best to mimic what you’d shown him. Silently, he promises himself that one day this will all be muscle memory and he’ll know how to effortlessly make you feel good whenever you want him to, be at your beck and call.

His thumb works against you diligently, drawing those same tight circles as you’d shown him while he continues to work you open with his fingers. He’s so entirely focused and excited that absolutely nothing else matters at this moment except making you fall apart and finding out what you look like when totally lost in pleasure. Will you call out his name like you do in his daydreams? 

“Matty… breathe,” you remind him, smiling fondly at your hell-bent boy. 

Matty blinks up at you, his ministrations faltering for a moment before he lets out a breath that he didn’t even realize he was holding. A bashful smile twitches at the corner of his kiss-bitten lips. 

“Right, right… can’t make a girl finish if you’re passed out,” he murmurs, leaning to kiss the top of your breast sweetly.

Matty suddenly curls his fingers inside you, crooking them forward just in time for them to catch against your sweet spot. Instantly, you mewl and rock into his hand a little harder. He shudders as he feels your walls clench around his digits, imagining what that would feel like around his– he shakes his head quickly, trying not to get ahead of himself. 

“Here? Right here?” he gasps, watching in awe as your expression twists with bliss.

You nod frantically, your eyes squeezing shut again as the sensations begin to crowd you in the best way possible. You feel it throbbing, reverberating between your thighs, threatening to crash over you with every thrust of his fingers, every swipe of his thumb. It’s not perfect, but what he lacks in skill, he makes up for with pure determination.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, Matty. Keep doing it just like that,” you beg, chest heaving.

“Fuck…” he mutters, grinding himself against your leg a little more heedlessly as he does just that, making sure not to let his eagerness get the best of him. 

You reach down to grip Matty’s wrist in warning as the tension inside you crescendos, knowing you’re only moments away from tipping over that familiar edge that you’ve only ever known in the privacy of your own room. Your head lolls back against the pillows as the rocking of your hips becomes more frantic. 

“Please… please…” he whispers, his gaze intense, “Please, I n-need you to…”

“Matty, I-” you pant, your eyes rolling back before your orgasm crashes over you in a wave of release. 

Your mouth parts with a silent cry as your body tenses, back arching off of his bed as you feel your walls spasming around his fingers. Your nails are digging into his wrist as you begin to pant with breathy whines, riding out your orgasm against his eager hand. Pure satisfaction washes over your body as your lovely boyfriend watches in complete and total awe, continuing to aid you through your climax, wanting you to feel every drop of pleasure he could possibly offer you. 

Matty whimpers as he watches you fall apart for him, his free hand snaking down to the front of his jeans to grasp himself for any kind of relief, his erection aching so badly that it’s starting to hurt. He’s almost lightheaded as he watches you thrash, thinking to himself that this might be the most beautiful that he’s ever seen you, which is a tough battle to win considering that he thinks you look beautiful all the damn time. But this? You at your rawest, at your most vulnerable? Yeah, he’s going to need a minute to recover because there’s an actual angel in his bed with him. 

You grit your teeth as the sensitivity starts to overwhelm you, pulling Matty’s hand out from between your thighs with a whimper before going limp against the pillows. You can’t help but smile, chest heaving and skin glowing with sweat while Matty stares down at his fingers in disbelief at the glinting arousal coating them. Without thinking, he brings them to his mouth, sucking and lapping up the sweetness to savor the taste of your pleasure. The sight makes you blush to your very roots. 

“That was… that was so fucking hot, oh god, when can we do that again?” he mumbles around his fingers. 

After releasing his digits with a wet pop, he scrambles to sit up and get out of his jeans, unable to take it any longer. Matty sighs with relief as he starts to wiggle out of his jeans, the fabric feeling so tight and constricting at his crotch that he thought the zipper might pop off. You watch, amused as he grunts and struggles to get out of his skinny jeans that are likely a size too small. 

The moment they’re off, he’s flinging them across the room and crashing his lips to yours in a messy, blissful tangle of teeth and tongues. Matty licks into your mouth with heated desperation, not even letting you get a word in as you come down from your high. 

“I want to fuck you so bad, I-I think about it all the time,” he mumbles against your lips, cupping your face with trembling hands, “please, please can I be inside you?”

Your mind is still spinning as you quickly nod, barely recovered but still ready for more, for all of him. Your fingers reach for your locket, toying with it, feeling the engraved swirls etched beneath your fingertips. 

“Do you have a…?” 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah. Hold on.”

Matty moves faster than he ever has in his whole life as he gets up and rummages around in his closet for the box of condoms he’d stashed away. He’d bought them earlier that week at the corner store while his mates snickered behind him (“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I don’t see you wankers getting any!”, he’d sneered, sticking out his tongue petulantly). He plops down onto the bed next to you while ripping open the rather large box, your eyes widening as you catch the number “50” printed on the side of it.

“Christ! Why do you have so many?” you gape, doing a double take as you make sure you’ve read it correctly.

Matty shrugs, pulling out a comically long string of silver packets from the box before setting it aside, eyeing them as they glint under the low lighting. It looks like a goddamn party streamer. “What? Gotta be safe, yeah?” 

“You’re not going to break 49 condoms.” 

“I dunno, babe! Maybe I’m a fuckin’ animal and we’ll go 50 rounds, no breaks.” 

You roll your eyes with a snort, giving his shoulder a playful shove as he grins at you toothily. 

“You’re so ridiculous, oh my god.” 

“Nah, but really, they won’t go to waste. I promise you that, babe,” he smirks, waggling his eyebrows as he waves the string of condoms in front of your face teasingly. 

He’s an idiot. However, the idea of using up all of those condoms together makes you a little dizzy, heat sparking through your veins at the thought. You reach out and snatch the packets from him, laying the strand across your chest like a ribbon while you tear one off. You stare up into his eyes, blinking at him prettily as you place the wrapper in your teeth, holding it there with a flair of sensuality. This feeling, the one that makes you feel like you’re desirable, sexual, is one you could damn well get used to. 

Matty’s mouth waters, almost drooling at the sight of what must be every teenage boy’s most depraved daydream: a vixen sent to devour him whole. He wants to burn the sight into his memory forever, his stomach twisting in a tangle of arousal as your lips curl seductively around the foil. He can already envision how this memory will play inside his mind on a loop when he’s alone in his bed.

“You’re going to kill me,” he accuses, shakily taking the wrapper from between your teeth.

You just smile, watching as he fumbles with the foil for a moment before tearing it open, sitting back on his heels as he slides his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers. You allow your gaze to skim down the light spattering of dark hair from his navel to the bulge in his underwear, licking your lips as you eye the sizeable pool of precum that’s soaked into the fabric. Matty glances away, awkwardly clearing his throat as he begins to ease the elastic down his slim hips, kicking his boxers off once they reach his ankles.

Your heartbeat feels as though it’s hammering in your ears as you take in the sight of him, a rush of heat making your hips squirm involuntarily. He’s beautiful and he doesn’t even know it. You want to kiss and bite every inch of his scrawny body. You want to taste his pale skin. You want to feel him, real and warm under your fingertips as they dig into him. But more than anything, you need him inside you. 

Matty lets out a breathy groan as he strokes himself slowly, gathering the precum bubbling at his tip before dragging it downwards with a shudder. He slowly rolls the condom down onto himself, feeling over the latex to make sure it’s secure before glancing up at you, his cheeks a shade of bright pink as he notices your intense stare. 

Your boyfriend settles himself between your legs, gingerly spreading them so he fits above you, his arms on either side of your head, his Mortal Kombat tattoo inches from your face. You reach upwards with an uneven exhale, placing your hands on his chest which rises and falls with shallow breaths. His cock brushes against your inner thigh. Matty looks like he might combust. 

“You’re sure about this?” he whispers, his breath bated. 

Your heart is pounding in your chest, anticipation wrapping her hands around your throat. You want him more than anything. 

“I’m sure… please, Matty,” you say softly, rubbing your thumbs over his collarbones. 

“If it hurts or you wanna stop, you tell me. I-I don’t give a fuck if I’m literally about to cum, you just shout at me or something, alright?” he rambles, using one of his hands framing your face to gently tuck your hair behind your ear. 

“Okay,” you whisper, managing a slightly nervous smile. 

Matty swallows hard, bringing one hand down to his length, guiding it forward till his tip meets your slicked center. You both shiver as he begins to run himself back and forth against you, the realization that you’re about to lose your virginity seeming to hit you both all at once. He shoots you a jittery look, searching your eyes for any sense of regret or discomfort. When he finds none, he begins to carefully line himself up with you, firmly gripping himself to avoid the embarrassment of missing. 

“I’m going to… yeah,” he mumbles. The pinnacle of eloquence. 

Your breath catches in your throat as he begins to push his hips forward, feeling your velvety walls stretch to accommodate him. Matty’s face screws up as he feels your warmth enveloping him bit by bit, panting softly as he experiences an overwhelming tightness around his cock that his own hand could never offer. He makes a choked noise, internally reminding himself that he needs to last long and do a good job for you, to not cum the second he’s inside. 

“F-fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-” he mutters, his teeth gritting as he tries not to completely lose his goddamn mind. 

 You hiss at the intrusion as he slowly inches inside you, the unfamiliar feeling being somewhat like getting split open. Almost involuntarily, you reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with a comforting squeeze. Matty pauses, his eyes blinking open, flashing with affection as he squeezes your hand back, finding solace in the familiarity and simplicity of your touch. You nod at him softly, running your thumb over his knuckles as you breathe through this initial, slight discomfort. His eyes are lidded as he watches your expression closely, wanting to kiss away the bit of tension on your features. 

“You’re so tight… so fucking�� oh fuck,” he babbles, brows knitting together as he continues sliding inside of you, trembling. 

He can’t seem to stop rambling and cursing, squeezing your hand a little tighter before finally reaching his hilt, filling you entirely as your hips meet. Matty’s head dips forward with a deep groan, feeling himself pulse inside you. He didn’t immediately cum the moment he was fully inside you, which he considered to be a win at the moment considering how fucking incredible this feels. 

“Feels so fucking good… oh my god- oh my god, you feel so good…” he rambles breathlessly, his hand wrapped tightly around yours.

You breathe deeply, the stretch creating a low, simmering feeling in your walls as you try to fully relax and adjust. Matty gazes down at you adoringly, panting as he clenches every muscle in his body to try and stave off his already impending orgasm. The urge to move and thrust and fuck is urgent, but he forces himself to stay still, needing to make sure you’re comfortable. 

 “Baby, are you okay?” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your forehead, quivering from his head to his toes, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

“I’m good, love. Are you okay?” you giggle, raising your eyebrows at him.

“I’m… I’m– yeah. Best. Best ever. You feel amazing, you’re amazing,” he grins, laughing breathlessly.

Matty feels like he’s drunk, intoxicated by everything about you. The way you look, the way you feel. Oh god. He’s never felt so good in his life. You’re just as bad, smiling up at him like he’s given you not only the moon but also all of the stars. Joined at the hips, intertwined at the soul. 

“You can move,” you whisper, the tinge of burning fading into something warm, something to thirst for. 

He nods above you, squeezing your hand like making a promise: I’ll take care of you. He begins to slowly, almost delicately roll his hips against you, the movement making you gasp for breath, gripping his shoulder tighter. Matty’s lashes flutter as he lets out a whimper, staring down at you with tenderness as he sets a gentle rhythm, allowing the both of you to ease into the deep intimacy. It’s almost an out-of-body experience for Matty, watching you below him, his hazy vision creating a sort of aura around you.

“You’re… you’re doing so good. You look so pretty. Made for me,” he gasps, barely stringing together coherent sentences between rocks of his hips. 

Matty’s thrusts are shallow despite how restless he’s growing, practically overheating above you. He continues to murmur about how good and tight you feel, the praise spilling from his lips without much thought, simply pouring from his lungs as he gets lost in the overpowering feeling of you. 

“Ohh, fuck,” you murmur, a spike of heat rushing straight to your cunt, clenching around him as your nails rake down his back.

Matty’s hips stutter as the breath is stolen from his lungs, almost making a wheezing sound at the back of his throat. His skin erupts with goosebumps under your touch, your nails leaving a pleasurable sting in their wake. He gathers himself enough to speak. “Holy shit. C-can you do that again?” he stammers, feeling like every nerve of his body is firing at once.

A hazy smile spreads across your lips as you clench around him again, feeling him twitch within your taut walls. Matty doesn’t just moan, he whines at the feeling, involuntarily bucking into you with more force, driving his cock deeper inside you. You pant at the entirely new feeling, your body lighting up with crackling sparks. Suddenly, the gingerly pace he’d set wasn’t nearly enough as liquid need fizzles in your bones. 

“Matty… more,” you moan, your eyes shining.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His eyes nearly roll back at every noise he pulls from you, the sounds only spurning him on further, driving his body forward into yours harder, faster. His head drops forward to your neck, burying his face there as he pants raggedly against your skin.

What had started out as gentle, loving gazes and polite rolls of hips has quickly become somewhat of a frenzy. The two of you hold each other close as you buck and rock and sweat, needing to help each other see stars to the sound of the bed's creeks. Matty shakes like a leaf as you wrap your legs around his pretty waist, drawing him in deeper. Before you can process it, he’s snaking his hand down between your glowing bodies to hastily swipe at your clit with his fingertips. You cry out as the pleasure courses through you, building even faster than before, rendering your brain fuzzy and wonderfully useless as you rock to meet his pistoning hips. The sound of skin on skin makes your face burn. 

“Please, please, love. I-I need– need to-” he babbles pathetically, desperation radiating off of him, “I-I’m not gonna last,” he shudders, a lilt of panic in his tone.

“It’s okay,” you pant, digging your nails into his back to make him groan, “Let it feel good, baby.”

Matty whines pitifully, his hips losing their rhythm entirely as he begins to thrust as quickly and frantically as he can, continuing to rub at your oversensitive bundle of nerves, setting a growing fire beneath your skin. “Y-yeah feels so good. So good,” he nods.

“Close, Matty,” you gasp, your back arching off of the plaid sheets as the flames curl and lick inside you. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna– gonna–” 

Matty can’t even finish his sentence, biting down on your shoulder as his body goes completely stiff for a moment, his hand clutching at yours even tighter before he shudders with his release, spilling into the condom. You follow closely on his heels into the depths of pleasure, trembling as your eyes roll back in your head, your walls spasming around Matty as he pulses inside of you. His head stays buried in the crook of your neck as he moans wantonly against your skin, his hips sporadically jerking against you as you both get lost in pleasure so great, you’re not sure how you ever went without it. 

The only sound that can be heard in Matty’s bedroom is heavy breathing. He stays collapsed on top of you, your legs dangling lazily over his hips as you hold each other, fingers still interlocked. Neither of you has said a word yet as you simply bask in the afterglow. 

Afterglow. You realize why it’s called that now. It feels like you’re shining from the inside out and you swear you can see the same light within him as you run your fingers through his damp hair. And in this moment, you and your boy are untouchable, nothing can reach you when he’s holding you this way. 

“I love you…” 

The words are faint, they ring hazily through your head, and for a moment you’re not sure if they were imagined. But he says it again, quietly, delicately, to be absorbed. 

“I love you.”

Your chest swells with warmth, it spreads from your heart to your fingertips and beyond. You swallow the lump in your throat, a grin spreading across your face so wide you think you might crack. 

“I love you too, Matty.”

Slowly, he lifts his head from where it rests, his eyes misty as he meets your gaze. He sniffles, rubbing his thumb against your hand with sweetness, the both of you acutely aware of how you’re still intertwined. 

“Oh god,” he mumbles, embarrassed as he rubs at his eyes. 

You coo at him, tucking some of his hair behind his ear before leaning in to tenderly peck his lips. You simply gaze into each other’s eyes, realizing how badly you want this to last. To beat the odds of young lovers. To scream in the face of getting older, of growing apart. But right now, this is enough. 

“I love you so much,” he whispers again, smiling like he’s trying out the words on his tongue, giddy at the way it feels.

This is more than enough. 

[sugar-coat-it]

EEEEEEE STOP

THE CAFE JOB 😭😭😭

@sugar-coat-it now i’ll always think of you and teenage dream matty whenever i see this photo ♥️

[kate-the1975]

Every day I wake up and wish I came up with the Teenagedream!Matty because the amount of ideas I have for him has me awake at night 😭😭😭😭

[berryblonde1975]

hot girls cried when they found out matty healy is engaged. (i’m hot girls)

[sugar-coat-it]

STOP IT OH MY GOD

IVE NEVER SEEN THIS BEFORE HE LOOKS SO FUCKING CUTE

AGHHHGGHBBGHBB OH I COULD CRY I THINK

GET AWAY FROM ME IM GONNA KILL MYSELF OH MY GOD @sugar-coat-it LOOK AT HIM 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 HE IS SO BABY IM GOING TO END IT ALL WHAT THE FUCK

[la-girlblogger-avec-toi]

I’ve gone through my ATWTMVTV and TSMWEL guy where is my so high school guy and/or my begin again guy

[mattybsgroupie]

sleepover | matt sturniolo

contents: established relationship; handjob (m receiving); thigh riding (f); p in v; creampie; mommy kink; sub!matt

- ♡ -

notes: i wrote two dom!matt fics in a row i do not recognize myself. back to the sub!matt agenda, somebody has got to do it, i am the chosen one!!! (please it’s a trump meme) this is a silly little one i wrote cuz i’ve been dreaming some weird things these last few days and i’d very much like to fuck matt afterwards. not proofread but hope you enjoy it. always so thankful for every like, comment, reblog and follow, love y’all sm ♡ btw next week i might post a chris request i got idkkk

- ♡ -

i woke up out of breath, sweat dripping from my forehead as i tried to calm down. it was a nightmare - a terrible one, where i no longer had matt and no matter how much i’d scream, my voice wouldn’t come out. my phone buzzed, the screen lighting up the ceiling and part of my room. it was 3am.

i reached for the nightstand, first taking a sip of water and then grabbing my cellphone, checking my notifications. i had one missed call from matt and two other messages, which only read “babe, you up?”

i felt as the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders, my chest gradually lowering as i got more relaxed. i smiled and speed dialed the first number on my list.

“why are you awake!” matt picked up in a surprised tone, not really waiting for my answer. “i just texted you, did you feel it coming or something?” he giggled.

“hi, babe” i said, my voice still shaky. “i just woke up, actually”

“what happened?” matt asked me once again, clearly concerned as he heard how i sounded. i gulped and gave a few taps on my chest as i rested my back on the headboard. “what is it, hm? bad dream?”

“uhum” i nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. he knew i’d soon be curled up between the sheets, trying to fall asleep again. “what about you babe? can't sleep?” i asked, already knowing the response.

matt sighed and i could picture him running his fingers through his hair, trying to not upset me “anxious”.

“i’m sorry to hear that, matty” i pouted from the other side of the screen. “do you wanna facetime?” i suggested what we had done plenty of times. we’d be facing each other, talking nonsense until one of us fall asleep - of course, when things didn’t take a turn to either matt’s or my own horniness.

“actually… was thinking about coming over” i smiled, but he couldn’t see it. he always made me feel like a teenage girl, changing the reason of my nervousness to something silly, like him coming over.

“no way, you’re not getting the road right now” i said, playing hard to get.

“what?” matt sounded confused. “why not?!”

“it’s late and i worry about you” i responded. “don’t you have something schedule for tomorrow?”

“i don’t give a fuck” matt said, “i wanna be with you right now, do you wanna be with me?” i nodded and as if he could see me from there, he continued. “please, mommy?”

“i’m waiting!” i jokingly hang up on him after gasping by the nickname, as if it was too bold of him to call me that.

- ♡ -

i heard three knocks on my bedroom door and didn’t bother getting up. i rolled myself on the bed, waiting for him to join me.

“did i take too long?” matt asked, biggest smile on his face. he locked the door and quickly came next to me, lying down by my side.

“yeah, you know mommy doesn’t like to wait” matt widened his eyes, gulping at my words, realizing what he had done over the phone.

“i just said that so you could let me come over” he said, acting tough as he rolled his eyes before resting his head above my chest, snuggling into me.

“oh, that’s too bad” i pouted, my fingers running through his hair. “you got me all worked up…”

matt quickly raised his head, blue eyes staring at me in surprise, grin growing on his face. “did i? really?”

“of course, my good boy always gets me going” i teased, matt’s cheeks turning red. “why? you came here to sleep?”

“i mean” he started, grabbing my waist, turning my body over and changing our positions. he was now under me, his hands resting on my hips while i adjusted myself in order to get comfortable on his lap. “not anymore”.

matt leaned in for a kiss, holding the back of my head and bringing us closer. i could feel his beard slightly tickling my face as he deepened the pressure of his lips against mine, silently asking to go further by sticking his tongue and teasing me. i opened my mouth and matt’s tongue quickly slid in, the wet sounds taking over my darkened room.

one of matt's hand moved to my breasts, massaging it over the shirt. i gasped for the sudden contact, pulling away from the kiss, which led him to go to my neck instead. he trailed his lips down, altering between biting and licking my skin. my hands went to his hair once again, tangling my fingers on his curls.

matt lowered his head and stopped right above my nipple before looking at me with needy puppy eyes. i nodded vigorously, but instead of removing my shirt, matt hid his face underneath it, streching the cloth in order to fit inside. i felt his wet tongue teasing my nub and since i could no longer pull his hair, i rested my hands on his bare thighs. as matt started to swril his tongue, i threw my head back and couldn't help but start to move my hips forward, trying to get some friction to my already wet pussy.

i let out a moan when his free went to my other boob, his thumb circling the hardened nub that poked through the shirt. i wanted to look at him - wanted to see how his beard looked like rubbing against my skin, which color the hickeys he left would be, how much would the saliva run down my torso.

with my eyes closed and feeling matt sucking my tits, i tried to touch the hem of my shirt in order to remove it, i couldn't stand one more second without looking at his eyes again - however, my palm met something harder, covered by a soft fabric. i groped his shaft and received a muffled moan from matt, still busy in my tits. now with my eyes open i could finally take my clothes off, revealing matt with his messy hair, beard wet from rubbing his face against his own kisses, lips swollen.

“look at me baby” i called and carressed his cheek, “you said you wanted to sleepover and now look at you, already a mess for mommy...”

“i'm s-sorry, mommy” he started, ���can't help it, you taste so good”.

“yeah? did you miss me?” i teased, starting to drag myself over his thigh once again. “we saw each other two days ago”

“it's too much” matt complained, hands going to my hips, helping me set a proper pace. “needy again”, he glanced at tent on his shorts, where my palm rested.

“is mommy's baby needy?” i almost mocked him and he nodded pathetically, but still not letting me take full control as he started to pump his legs' muscles, making my pussy clench. i opened my mouth, but nothing came out of it. matt's grip tighetned and he forced my body down, completely leading my movements.

“mommy seems needy as well” matt spoke, smashing his lips against mine. i let out a frustrated whine, wanting to feel more - i needed him inside of me. “aren't you?”

“yes- fuck” i said, trying to come back to my senses regain control of the situation “babe, be a good boy for me hm?"”

when i finally stroked matt's boner, his hands rapdly went to my ass, both palms groping it harshly as i entered inside his pants. i wrapped my fingers around his aching cock, and being the good boy he was, matt lifted up his hips, allowing me to pull down his shorts and reveal his hardened dick. he touched my waistband in response, silently asking if he could do the same to me. i mimicked his moves, letting the fabric slide down my legs.

“thought i had told you to not wear panties to bed” he said, pulling the strings of my underwear. “isn't mommy supposed to be good as well?” matt was driving me crazy with all the teasing.

i suddenly started to move my fist up and down, quickly jerking him off. matt was used with me starting slow and building up his excitement until he climaxed. but tonight, it didn't seem like he wanted to be treated kindly. matt threw his head back and closed his eyes, groaning loudly “f-fuck!”

i brushed my thumb over his tip, matt’s body immediately reacting, jointing his hips forward into my fist. i dragged my finger on his slit as matt’s nails dig into my skin, spreading the pre-cum down his shaft. his breathing got heavier, chest rising and falling quickly while he bit every inch of skin he could reach.

“not talking back anymore?” i asked, gradually stopping my motions, receiving a groan in response.

“mommy, don’t be mean” he pleaded as his sneaky fingers made their way to my entrance, pulling my panties to the side. he kissed my neck, making my eyes roll as i melted into his touch.

“matthew” i caught his attention since i didn’t really use his full name often. “stopping teasing so fucking much and just fucking say it”. he widened his eyes before letting the grin grow wide on his face.

“please, please, please” he said, “ride me, momma”i immediately got out of his thigh, adjusting myself to be in between his legs. i could feel matt’s cock being lazily dragged against my now bare pussy, panties removed as soon as i got up.

i lowered myself on his shaft, nearing my throbbing cunt to his leaking tip. both of my hands went to matt’s shoulders, looking for balance as his grabbed my hips, helping me fully sit on his length. matt’s dick was huge, stretching my walls as he hid his face on the crook of my neck, tickling beard making me giggle as i tried to adjust myself to his size.

“wasn’t so hard, was it?” i asked, getting comfortable to move my hips up. as i started riding, matt wouldn’t say a word, only muffling moans in my ear. he denied with his head, whining as i fastened my pace.

“c-close” he said, gripping tighter. “mommy- fuck”

“hold for me baby” i spoke, already out of breath, bouncing harder on his dick. matt decided to stick his face on my boobs and dragged his tongue along my skin, biting my nipple and holding me by my waist, jointing his hips forward in order to reach his high quicker.

“yes baby, just like that” i praised, matt now pounding mindlessly into me. “good boy, good boy” and that’s what took for him to snap, groaning loudly as his cock twitched and he released the knot on his lower belly, spurts of his warm cum filling my insides.

his spasms brought me closer to the edge, but i wouldn’t stop riding him. i kept on bouncing on his cock, now in search of my own climax. “mommy- mommy, fuck!” matt cried from the overstimulation. his whimpers got louder and so did my moans as my orgasm washed over me, mouth hanging open with my trembling body as i came over matt’s shaft.

i was too tired to remove myself, letting my weight fall over him. matt rolled us over, both of us laying in my bed. he turned to the side and pulled out, the mix of our realeases running down my legs and staining my sheets. matt let out a chuckle as he wrapped his arms around me, bringing me closer to his chest.

“should we sleep now?” i asked, running my fingers through his tummy.

“kid” he called, pointing to my bedroom widow. “the sun is already up” he spoke - as if this was gonna stop us from sleeping till noon. “but that’s why i came here, right? sleepover”

“of course, you’re always so clever” i rolled my eyes and giggled, allowing my body to relax next to his. i closed my eyes and knew that, while matt was around, the bad dreams would no longer come.

- ♡ -

taglist (drop a 🌸!): @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @her-favorite @bugeyedgrl @mattswhore-44 @sturncakez @riowritesitall @joemamaaa42069 @mattttypooh @sturnsmia @sturnthepot

[toomuchracket]

Office nerd sending nudes (photo/video) for the first time.

well his dick is too big to fit in one frame so there's that lol - he calls you in a panic like "darling how do i do this i'm so sorry i can't fit everything in the pic", terrified of disappointing you and unfulfilling your very hot very polite request for nudes (you left some on his phone too teehee), but actually realising your boyfriend is so hung he can't even take a normal dick pic... that turns you on more than any photograph lol. but you talk him through it, sultry and sexy, guiding him to get into the positions you like watching him get off in-person in most and taking pics there, and once he figures it out... incredible. mind you, he's an art critic, so he knows the power of angles and lighting and composition and all that artsy shit, and the nudes you end up getting from him are works of art in themselves, erotic masterpieces lmao. in terms of video - you just ask him to film himself the next time he wanks without you there, so he's at his most natural/comfortable, and you're overjoyed and turned on to an insane level when your phone pings with a video of matty in the shower, phone propped up on the bathroom counter and glass door open as he fucks his hand the way he fucks you. he's beautiful, dripping wet and hard and moaning your name and "thinking about fucking you instead, darling, FUCK, wish i was inside you right now. soon, though, i promise, promise i'll fuck you so good, make you cum all over this dick. s'not mine, really, s'yours, all yours. girl of my fucking dreams"; when he cums, so do you, gushing all over your fingers before giggling like a lovesick teenager at him blowing a kiss to the camera before ending the vid. yeah. it's good <3

[abiiors]

7. late night talking - matty x reader

a/n: this is very...abstract?? if you could call it that?? in my mind this feels exactly how late night talking feels tho

cw: drug use (weed), suggestive content, shotgunning kinda, yapping (a lot of it)

smoke curls around your fingers in the moonlight. it’s 2 am on a summer night, the heat’s not blistering but it’s warm enough that you sit on the balcony with barely any clothes on, matty’s hand on your thigh, your hand around a spliff. 

“d’you think if we were on a different plant, or–or the moon, i dunno, you think we’d be on a balcony somewhere, pointing at the earth?” his voice sounds deeper to your ears than it usually does, the words floating through your veins as sluggishly as the blood. 

it’s a thought that takes your mind to interesting places. 

you snort. “you’re so high right now.”

he mimics your snort, eyes crinkling. “and you’re so far away right now, c’mere.”

you want to point out that your thighs are touching, your knee nudging his every few seconds when one of you moves. but then matty’s fingers trail up, up, up—roughened pads of his index and middle fingers against the smooth skin of your thighs and suddenly you understand. he’s so far away. 

it’d be nicer if you could climb inside him and make a home in his chest cavity. right below his beating heart. 

“thoughts,” he taps your head, “so many of them. what are you thinking?”

“about you, about your chest.”

“my chest?”

matty turns fully now, facing you, body angled towards yours while his face looks half-amused half-confused. instead of answering, you take another drag of the spliff and hold it in your throat until it burns. until your body forces a release. 

“you’re so high right now!” he mimics your words from before in a high pitched voice. a poor imitation. 

“oi! you thought we could have a balcony somewhere on the moon!”

“i still think we would,” he smiles. you watch him, enamoured all of a sudden, shivering when his thumb traces your bottom lip gently. “a house just like this. for the two of us. and i think i’d point at the earth, say ‘look at that, look at you and me—’”

“we’d somehow be on earth and on the moon? at the same time?” 

your amused tone makes him roll his eyes. “two versions, darling. keep up please. now where was i?”

“look at you and me—”

“ah yes!” his hand wraps around yours, lifting it up until both your fingers are pointing at a random star in the sky. “look at us, happy and content and tanned from the sun. you’d have blonde hair, i think—”

“you think i should have blonde hair?” you gasp at him, mock offended, “you don’t like my hair the way it is?”

“i love your hair. i’d love it even if it was red or blue or green or purple. but that’s not the point, the point it you’d have blonde hair because we’d be in the sun all day, gardening or keeping bees or—” and this time matty waggles his brows like a teenager, “fucking.”

you giggle. it’s a pretty thought, a distant dream. but in that instance, it almost feels…touchable. with your finger pointing at the star you grab, curl your fingers until your hand closes into a fist and you feel the pulsating core of the fading dream in the centre of your palm. he smiles too, and brings the back of your hand to his lips. 

“we could do that, be the earth version of ourselves instead of the moon version. i could dye my hair y’know? oooh! we could dye it at home.”

“absolutely not.” matty dismisses the idea quickly before your weed-addled brain can make any plans, and takes the spliff away from you. you don’t protest though—it’s a different kind of joy to watch him indulge, to watch it dangling lazily between his lips until he tilts his face up to the sky and exhales. 

“mean,” you tut. “you’d think for a man with such a sweet tongue you’d be less mean to me.”

“oh, you think a lot about my tongue, do you?”

a flush creeps up your cheek. it’s the heat in the air running inside you, crawling through your veins. it’s the beginning of a summer thunderstorm, zapping through your blood. 

“i do. i think about you. all the time.”

“even now? when i’m right next to you?”

“especially now. when you’re so close and so far away.”

then you feel matty’s hand on your waist, a small nudge, and suddenly you’re in his lap, head tucked into the crook of his neck. your cheek right next above his beating heart. 

“better?”

“much.”

“stay like this then. stay forever.”

you smile at the thought of forever, of the two of you growing old and frail right here on his balcony, tangled up exactly like you are, his fingers running through your grey hair, your hand on his wrinkled cheek.  

“open your mouth,” he nudges your chin with his thumb, parting your lips. a moment later smoke surrounds you—exhaled from his lungs, inhaled into yours. warm and charged and sweet. 

the faded dream comes to life, this time tinged with the promise of forever. you smile and bury your face into his neck. 

then you close your eyes. 

[leavesfallensparse]

Cigarettes & Wine | M. Healy | 1

'I want a photo of you in my bed, to carry with me when I go out west.'

In which Sadie and Matty have a very brief, very awkward, and very anxious encounter, Sadie gets very flustered but quickly finds herself fitting in with the group of rowdy boys and too many feelings are felt for her teenage brain.

warnings: drug use, implied alcoholism, implied parental neglect, my sweet angel sadie being a sweet angel.

word count: 8.5k

a/n: soo .. hiiii! i am juniper and im begging you guys bear with me i have Never posted on here before. BUUUUTT i am vvvv nervous and excited to be posting this but it's been in the works for tooooo long. begging and screaming to be let out of the word doc its been confined to. so here we are i guess. pls enjoy sadie and matty they are my Children. if the title wasn't hint enough.. this is only part one.

Sadie has had the most stressful morning of her entire life. Her tie is untied around her neck and the only thing she cares to grab hold of is her camera. Her entire life is on that thing, and although she may be merely 14, her camera is her child. She hears her mother huffing at the bottom of the stairs and straightens up to catch a look of herself in the mirror, a mess, as she suspected. Her shirt is buttoned up wrong, her skirt is half tucked into her tights, she has on one Mary Jane and her backpack’s contents are strewn messily across her bedroom floor. With some swear words muttered along the way she is in the car within five minutes and her mum is chewing her out for being late to her first day of Year 10, which she couldn’t really care less for.

“I’ll see you tonight, mum! Love you!” Sadie slams the car door before she can hear her mums reply and heads into the school she’s grown to know quite well. She’s fallen into a friend group with some girls that she thinks will do for her high school endeavours, but Sadie already knows she’s destined for bigger than the small town of Wilmslow. Somebody else who thinks this way is Matty Healy, the boy who’s just gone into Year 11. Sadie has noticed him before, they both tend to frequent the music department, Sadie finds it visually appealing for her photo collection, whereas Matty finds it appealing to the ears, especially his own guitar strumming. Any time their paths cross Sadie bows her head and pretty much runs in the opposite direction, face as red as the wine her mum drinks when the sky gets dark.

As Sadie enters the front of the school she signs in late at the front and heads to her class, putting her camera in her backpack as she approaches her English class. She sighs and opens the door with stuttered apologies for being late, Sadie might be confident and come across as such but that doesn’t mean her 14 year old brain isn’t scared of high school teachers and their strictness. She stumbles to her seat and sits down, accidentally throwing her bag at her feet once she gets out the book the class are in the middle of silently reading. Even though she doesn’t know why the class is reading on the first day she’s thankful for it because it lets her mind wander, her dreams of being a famous photographer is what her mind favours over ‘A Tale Of Two Cities’, Sadie finds Dickens to be boring. She prefers the Brontë sisters.

When lunchtime finally rolls around Sadie is where she can normally be found, the music department. Her camera is lazily slung around her neck, her backpack having been left with her friends in the library. She favours avoiding the gossip for finding inspiration in the usual practice rooms, the ones she hasn’t found inspiration in for a while now. She spent every day before the Summer holidays begging whoever might be looking down on her for something to take a photo of. Somebody else had been wandering the same corridors as Sadie. Everyone in her year talks about Matty Healy, “the boy in the year above with a natural affinity for the guitar he’s always carrying around the school carried a naturally mysterious air.” Sadie can’t think of a single girl in her year who wasn’t utterly obsessed with every move of Matty Healy. Including herself, even if she’s very hesitant to admit it, an admirer from afar per se. She likes to think of him more in the sense of ‘his appearance is inspiring to her camera’.  Sadie was looking down at her feet, frowning at the scuffed shoes she wore for the entirety of Year 9 when she felt a larger figure bump into her. As she looks up and sees Matty with a guitar case in his hand she can’t help the pink tint that rises on her cheeks.

“Oh! Erm, sorry!” Sadie somehow manages to force the words out of her mouth. She seems to have the same shyness about her when talking to Matty that she does when looking her English teacher in the eye. An interesting discovery. She loses herself in overthinking the tone she just took with Matty when she hears him reply to her, something she wasn’t expecting in the slightest.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t paying attention, my bad.” He meets her eyes and genuinely seems like he couldn’t care less about her mistake, he seems to take more notice of her camera, his head tilts and his eyes squint in the direction of it hanging limply on her neck. She seems to grow more confident in herself when she realises he’s looking at her camera, she knows she’s good at photography, that’s something she could talk about endlessly. Matty lifts a finger and points to said camera. “You any good?”

Her eyes widen slightly at the question, and she clears her throat at the same time her head begins incessantly nodding, she is acting crazy. She then begins to overthink her nodding. Why is she overthinking so much? Maybe she’s just having an off-day. She decides that she nodded like that because she knows she’s a great photographer, why would she not be overconfident about it? Seems normal enough.

“Cool. Can I see any?” This is when Sadie’s heart rate picks up. She doesn’t know why; she doesn’t want to know why. She also does not want to know why he is asking her this. Matty’s question has sent her brain into full blown panic mode, maybe she does want to know why he’d like to see her photos. What could possibly intrigue him about her? The squint tie around her neck? Her incredibly dirty Mary Janes? In her 14-year-old brain she decides he fancies her. She’d come to find out in many, many years that she was, in fact, right.

“If you want? I’m bringing my hard drive tomorrow for my art class, they’re letting me use my photos this year, meet me at the library?” She says this with a coy smile on her face, in her head she is feeling a lot less coy because of the way Matty is smirking at her. What she doesn’t know is that he is looking down at her with a smirk because her face is so red that he thinks there’s something wrong, maybe it was something he’d said? After a beat of silence, he blinks down at her with a nod, and they bid their goodbyes. Once Sadie is sure Matty has turned the corner she lets out a silent squeal before quickly bolting to the school’s library and sitting down at the table her friends are at, she might not view them in any light, but they do love gossip. She takes a moment to catch her breath before turning to her friend sat beside her, “Matty Healy wants to see my photos. I have no idea why.”

Suffice to say Sadie didn’t sleep a wink that night. She sneaked through to her dad’s office to edit photos on the family computer at midnight when she was sure everyone was sleeping and when she was sure the photos were on her hard drive she went back to bed and tried to sleep. Unsuccessfully. She then had to drag herself to school the next morning, early, to meet Matty before classes. She had no energy to even be nervous, the eyebags on her face spoke for themselves. She all but flopped down on the seat next to the boy who held in his laugh at the sight of her. “Don’t laugh! I had to edit some of these photos before you saw them, and my bloody dad wouldn’t get off the computer last night, so I had to do it after he was sleeping! Anyways, wanna see?” When Matty nods with a smile she rifles through her backpack for her hard drive.

After silently looking through her photos for, like, three whole minutes, Matty turns to Sadie with a single nod. “So, I’m in a band. I think they’d love these. How about you come to our next practice and take some photos of us? See if they like what you do?” Sadie is now a mere puddle in her computer chair. She doesn’t speak in fear of her mouth betraying her, what would she even say? She nods for a while; she doesn’t know how long she nods for, but she knows it’s been a while.

“Yup, sounds good. Yeah, cool. Cool. Where do you guys practice?” Sadie doesn’t know what the fuck is coming out of her mouth. She is word vomiting all over Matty’s shoes. She wants to apologise but she isn’t sure she remembers the English language. Why is she so nervous? Oh, probably just because the guy that every single one of her peers fawns over is currently asking her to make him and his bandmates her next subject of inspiration. Her next muse. What even is her life.

“At my house. I’ll write the address down for you, hang on.” Sadie’s mouth has gone dry. Now she’s truly forgotten the English language. This can’t be real, and this certainly can’t be happening to Sadie. Matty Healy is writing down his home address for her to have. Not to even mention his literal famous mum and dad. She reaches her hand under the computer desk and pinches her thigh over her wool tights, it doesn’t hurt but she’s now sure this is actually happening. Sadie takes the paper from Matty and tries to process the date and time he’s reciting at her. They’re interrupted by the morning bell and when Matty holds the library door open for her she waves goodbye, bows her head and speedwalks away from him.

Sadie really tries to focus in her classes that day but it doesn’t work in the slightest, all she can think about is Matty Healy and she curses him for it. She tries to read some romance novel when she gets home but she starts picturing the characters as her and Matty and has to put it down. He has unknowingly taken over her brain, and she resents him for it. Can’t a girl even read in peace?! She took pride in being the only girl in her year who didn’t have a crush on Matty, now she can’t even hold that above his head.

By the time Friday rolls around Sadie is already over school, she never tended to like school, but she already knows that Year 10 is going to be dreadful. The one saving grace might come in the form of a boy in the year above. She leaves school and runs home to get changed before she heads to Matty’s address. She has cherished the crumpled piece of paper that held his address since she got it on Tuesday morning, she taped it to her mirror and that is where it will stay. It isn’t like she hasn’t come home every night from school and studied it, she knows exactly where she’s going.

Her shaky hand knocks on the door of said address about an hour later, she biked over from her house and actually enjoyed the ride, the early September sun was shining on her face and lighting up the bumpy country road she took to get here. Her thoughts are interrupted by a lively woman, quite aggressively, swinging the front door open. Sadie smiles up at her with squint eyes because of the sun attacking them, making the blue of her irises look probably insane. “Um, hi? I’m Sadie, Matty invited me to watch his band practice and take some photos of them.” Sadie lazily points to the camera around her neck with an awkward smile. She is coming across very poorly. But alas the woman opens the door wider.

“Oh! He never mentioned, he doesn’t tend to tell me these things though, typical teenager! I’m Matty’s mum, just call me Denise though, sweetheart. They should be in the garage.” Denise walks Sadie to the garage door where she can hear the loud laughter of teenage boys and obnoxious drumbeats. She smirks slightly and thanks Denise, accepting her offer of a can of coke. Once she takes it she enters the garage, and the laughter dies down. “Sadie’s here, boys, she’s very lovely so I don’t want to hear of any teasing or making fun.”

Sadie looks down at her feet as Denise defends her, even though the boys haven’t yet uttered a word. She hears the garage door close behind her and Matty gestures her over to him. He very casually, like it’s nothing, throws an arm over her shoulder and begins introducing her to the three other boys in his garage. She already knows George from a couple of her classes due to them being in the same year, but she lets Matty speak at her anyways. “So, Sades, this is Adam, he plays guitar and he's in the year above me, basically he’s old. That’s Ross, he does the bass, but I think he just pretends to know what he’s doing. And that’s George, obviously he plays the drums, but he just makes a fucking racket.” Sadie flushes at how casually he gestures, how casually his arm is around her, how casually he swears, and how casually he calls her ‘Sades’. That’s a new one.

“Um, hi, I’m Sadie it’s nice to meet you guys. Matty was singing your guys’ praise on Tuesday morning. Been looking forward to this since.” Sadie’s forearm has suddenly become very itchy, and she busies herself in looking around the garage in an attempt to avoid eye contact with any of the aforementioned boys. She notices a few posters on the exposed walls and a couple of guitar cases strewn across the floor, the last thing she notices is a battered leather couch against the wall, facing all of the boys and their many instruments and poor cable management. Sadie leaves Matty’s side and takes a seat on it, placing her coke on the floor and taking the lens cap off her camera.

The practice is well under way and Sadie’s mind has been racing with thoughts of how she’d shoot the band at an actual show. She finally gains the courage to stand up and has failed to notice Matty’s eyes on her the entire time he’s been singing. None of the other boys seem to notice either, Matty doesn’t even realise what he’s doing. When they finish up the last song they wanted to practice (for probably the tenth time), they start chatting about things they should do differently, and Sadie busies herself by looking at her photos on the couch. She gets caught up in them and doesn’t feel the sofa sink next to her, she looks up and sees George looking over her shoulder. “Any good photos of me?”

Sadie can’t help the pink on her face as she nods and turns her camera to him, showing him the few photos she got of him. She found it difficult to get good angles of George considering the size of the garage they were practising in, him being shoved into the back corner. As George was flicking through photos Sadie couldn’t help but study his face, his brows were slightly furrowed as he fiddled with the buttons on her camera, not knowing how to work it. He smirked at a few photos and his eyes scanned over the rest, when he looked up Sadie was suddenly very interested in the opening of her can of coke. She has no idea why she can’t look at any of the boys without her heart rate picking up and her face going bright pink. Maybe because she thinks they’re actually quite cool and she has no idea why she would possibly be sitting in Matty’s garage with them all. But she is.

The next time she has a run in with the band is a week and a half later when they all spot her in the lunch hall and wildly gesture her over. She had spotted them first and tried to look around to avoid them. She really wishes she knew why her subconscious was forcing her away from the boys. (She’s terrified she’ll embarrass herself. That’s why). She gets herself together and heads over to the table they’re sat at, awkwardly placing her bag at her feet. She murmurs something that could be perceived as a “hi” but honestly it could have been anything. “Have you edited the photos yet? We are highly anticipating them.” Sadie nods her head excitedly, glad that the topic is on her photos, something she actually is passionate about.

“Yeah! Yeah, they’re on a hard drive that you guys can have, I forgot to bring it with me today though. I’ll bring it tomorrow?” Matty nods and falls into conversation with the boys, who also include Sadie, sitting there helpless, unsure if she should get up and go to her friends. She dares to glance in their direction and when she sees them blowing fake kisses because of the curly haired boy she’s sat with she rolls her eyes and turns back around. She reminds herself that they are her surface level friends, they have nothing in common whatsoever, they’re too caught up in gossip. Sadie is too caught up in her camera. They don’t gel.

Sadie manages to fall into a conversation with Ross about English and their mutual enjoyment for the subject, she finds it incredibly random but she’s glad to have something in common with one of the boys. She relished in the conversation not being surface level drama that brought a yawn out of her throat, she also relishes in her slight ranting about her passions actually being listened to. Sadie likes Ross and his listening skills. When the bell rings she finds herself bewildered at the fact she doesn’t want to get up from the table, she’d quite like to stay and timidly laugh at the boys’ jokes and general noisiness. But, alas, she must head to the aforementioned English class, she makes a joke to Ross about how she’d rather go anywhere else. They share a hatred for Sadie’s teacher, him having had her for the previous school year. She finds herself falling into step with George, they’re already five minutes late.

They wave a goodbye to the rest of the boys who all disperse into different classes and walks silently with George. They pass by a few people that make them share glances to each other, grimaces present on their faces. Anytime this happens they both laugh and shove into one another until they reach the fated English hallway and George reaches into his bag and pulls out two sheets of handwritten papers. Sadie’s face basically turns into a question mark. “What? It’s the homework?” Upon seeing Sadie’s heart basically fall to her toes George can’t help but let out a baffled laugh. “Don’t tell me you haven’t done it.”

“Shit, George.”

The colder the weather gets the more Sadie begins to feel like an integral member of the group. She’s the one to tell the boys to shut up when they’re talking too loudly. She’s the one to shove Matty anytime he makes another member of the group the butt of his jokes. She’s also the one to tell him when his singing sounds shit. Sadie has been quite the talk of the town recently because of this, her old friends are spreading all kinds of rumours due to her gradually dropping them in favour of the boys. Although anytime Ross catches wind of these in the school corridors he’s quick to shut it down, whether it be defending her or physically getting involved… at least he's there!

The band are meeting up for their last practice before Christmas Day and Sadie is beside herself with excitement, she hasn’t seen the boys since the school broke off for the holidays on the 17th. She wakes up that morning already excited but when she opens her curtains and sees snow she swears under her breath, she couldn’t possibly drag her bikes weak tyres through the thick snowfall. So, she slides her panda slippers onto her feet and heads downstairs, finding her mum in the kitchen with a cup of tea and a cigarette in hand. “Morning, mum! Would you be able to give me a lift to Matty’s later? I was gonna bike over, but it must’ve snowed pretty hard last night.” When she hears the sigh escape her mum’s mouth and the slight thud of her palm on the counter she knows she’s not getting a lift.

Denise was expecting Sadie, she’d grown to expect the young girl’s presence around the house at any given time. But what Denise wasn’t expecting was to open up the door to Sadie, bike in hand, tears staining her bright red cheeks, and no hat on her head. This just wouldn’t do. “Oh! Sadie, sweetheart, what happened? Come in, out of the cold now, just dump the bike, that’s fine. Why did you bike here?” Sadie tries to speak but her brain seems to think that letting a sob rack her body is the smarter way to go about this.

“Mum wouldn’t give me a lift, said she had more important things to be seeing to. Had no choice.” Denise immediately puts the kettle on and wraps the girl up in a blanket, rubbing her shoulders after forcing her to take a seat at the kitchen island. Sadie can hear the boys upstairs and is glad of Denise calming her down and talking to her before she has to face them. After Denise gives her a telling off for not, at least, putting on a scarf, she turns to Sadie with an eyebrow raised. She just sighs. “She does this all the time. Feel like a nuisance at that house. Always in the way.”

Upon hearing this Denise circles the kitchen island and crowds her into a hug which she can’t help but accept. After a beat of silence occasionally broken up by Sadie’s sniffles, the two part, Denise keeping her at arm’s length. “You shouldn’t feel like a nuisance. Listen, any time you come here I’m delighted, probably because you balance the testosterone levels a bit, but not just that, you’re the kindest young lady I’ve ever gotten to meet, and it’s always a pleasure to have you at the house, you keep my boys in check. Now, if you ever feel like this again, phone my number from your house phone, and I’ll come pick you up, can’t have you biking in the snow anymore.”

Sadie nods her head at Denise’s words, letting out a slightly weepy laugh anytime she makes a dig at the boys. She feels strangely warm inside, despite the subzero temperatures she was just faced with, and she doesn’t know why. She’s never felt safer than when Denise took her hand on the kitchen island. Matty’s house is now her safe space she’s decided. Speak of the devil, Sadie hears a clatter from the stairs behind her and when she turns she sees Matty’s eyes light up. “Sades! You made it! I thought you weren’t gonna come because of this snow, glad to see you though, George is chatting shit about your English teacher again. Something about holiday homework, help me take some juice up?”

Sadie takes the blanket with her and with a smile in Denise’s direction she waddles over to the fridge. She makes sure to finish her tea before grabbing a can of coke. Another thing she likes about the Healy house is the constantly stocked fridge, anytime she needs a drink there seems to be one on hand. Almost akin to Mary Poppins handbag. She takes one of the cans Matty is juggling with a giggle and bids goodbye to Denise before heading up the stairs. Matty entertains this journey by telling her that his dad had taken Louis, his younger brother, out to build a snowman a half hour ago and Sadie laughs at the image of his rosy cheeks and tiny hands grasping at snowflakes. She dotes on Louis, always having wanted a younger sibling, she treats him like her own brother.

When the door to Matty’s bedroom opens she smiles at the sight, three boys strewn across the room in one big, lazy mess. They all seem to perk up at the sight of Sadie, George especially. “Thank fuck you’re here, need help with this homework, my mum told me to have it finished before Christmas. And Ross, miserable bastard, is refusing to help me. Have you done it?” Sadie sets down Adam’s can of coke on the desk, cracking her own open before sitting criss-cross on the floor beside George. She nods at him over the can, and he can’t help but cheer and push it towards her, struggling on the carpet. “You’re so much better than me at English. Read what I have.” She sets down her can and skims over what George has written.

“Oh dear, I’ll help you after practice.” At this the boys all glance at each other and the room falls silent. Did she say something? I mean, they’re here for practice, right? Right. Sadie has just missed it, her treacherous journey to the Healy house took longer than usual, and she left late. “Have you already practiced?” When faced with four nodding boys, Sadie sighs and nods too. “That’s okay, we can just hang out, then.” Matty looks at her with a sympathetic grimace. He overheard more of her conversation with his mum than he originally let on.

Matty decides that changing the subject entirely is the best thing he can do in this situation, he doesn’t want to force her to talk about why she was crying to his mum. “We liked the most recent photos you took, really cool. Think you left some of your ones for art on the hard drive, there was a random shot of some leaf in the middle of Ross’ closeups.” Sadie shakes her head, feeling her eyes roll involuntarily. “I mean it was a good leaf photo, I just don’t think it’s our vibe.” Her head is thrown back in a giggle as she takes another sip of her coke.

“You should consider yourself lucky, getting to see my leaf photos. They are very close to my heart.” All Matty can do at this is scoff, he is now the one rolling his eyes. Sadie’s attention is diverted by a sheet of paper being waved in her face. She turns to George with a slight glare, and he backs into himself a bit. “Fine. What do you not understand? It’s just English.”

“I just don’t get it. English doesn’t make sense, I think you’ve forgotten that I am a well-travelled man, Sadie. I’ve been all over the place.” Sadie fixes the boy with a sigh, a straight-faced sigh. She lets his sentence linger in the air as she readjusts on the bedroom floor. She lays on her front as she reads what George has written. It’s not bad, but it’s also not great. And so, she tells him such.

“I mean, it’s not bad, but it’s not great. You could maybe, I don’t know, sprinkle in an adjective here or there, don’t think that would hurt.” Is all she manages to get out before a pillow is lobbed, quite forcefully, at her head. In retaliation she throws the paper back at George. “Well, you can do it yourself then, can’t you?”

“No, no, no! Sadie I didn’t mean it! My hand slipped!”

As the day turned to night the boys gradually left until it was just Matty and Sadie left sitting on his floor, sharing chips that Denise had cooked for them. Sadie put one in her mouth and glanced out the window, noticing it was snowing again, the sigh that came out of her mouth wasn’t meant to sound quite as pathetic as it did. Matty stopped strumming on his guitar and turned to her with furrowed brows, at the sudden silence she met his eyes. “I can’t bike home in this weather.”

“Why did you even bike here in the first place? And why were you crying?” Sadie shakes her head and breaths out a laugh. How does she even answer this? She could be honest, lay her cards on the table, and tell him all about her mum. Or she could be partially honest and tell him that her mum just doesn’t make time for her. Or she could blatantly lie, she’s on her period or something like that. As she weighs up her options she lets out a barely audible hum and Matty cocks his head at her.

“It’s just my mum. She never makes time for me. Refused to give me a lift and I didn’t want to cancel so I biked here. That’s all, I’m okay now, spending time with you guys makes me okay.” Matty’s head falls to rest on Sadie’s shoulder silently. He doesn’t know what to say to her, so he just starts strumming the guitar again. A smile rests on Sadie’s slightly pink cheeks as she hums along to the song Matty is playing, she doesn’t know it to name, but she definitely knows it. “I didn’t think I’d actually make friends in high school.” Matty doesn’t say anything for a minute, processing Sadie’s words.

“Of course you were gonna make friends. I think you’re too good to just be our friend, frankly I’m shocked you put up with our bullshit.” Another beat of silence falls upon the pair. “Just come here if your mum’s being a pain, we’ll cheer you right up.” Sadie smiles at this and feels tears brimming her eyes, and she doesn’t know why. At the sudden sound of the door opening Matty lifts her head and Sadie rubs at her eyes.

“Right, Sadie, I’ve just tried phoning your house phone three times to no answer, so the spare room is set up for you, let me know when you pair decide to sleep.” Sadie doesn’t hear much of what Denise said after hearing that her house was phoned three times, and nobody answered. What if something had happened to her? She sighs and smiles up at Denise from the floor, thanking her before picking at the loose pieces of carpet on the floor. When the door shuts, the tears flow. Matty has never been more panicked in his entire life, he thinks. How the fuck do you comfort your crying best friend?!

“Hey, hey. Come here.” He wraps an arm around her shoulder and all she can do is sigh. She knows if she speaks it’ll end in even more tears, her voice will refuse to work. She gives in and leans into Matty’s touch, the weather outside is a stark contrast to how she feels under his arm. After a few minutes of her silently crying, she dares a glance up at him and sees him staring at the wall across from him with slightly widened eyes, the sight makes her giggle, breaking him from his trance. He looks down at her and joins in the laughter, not knowing why they’re laughing but glad she’s not crying as hard anymore. Yet his eyes widen again when she stops laughing and opens her mouth.

“I want to know why they don’t care about me. I haven’t done anything.” Matty sighs at this, a sick part of his brain wishes he could relate just so he’d know what to say. He looks down at Sadie who is now lying on his floor, upside down from where he sits. He lays down next to her, top and tail, both teenagers looking up at the ceiling, feeling things too big for them to even comprehend, things they shouldn’t have to feel. “Sorry, I feel like the mood is ruined.”

“What mood? You’ve been off all day, making me feel sad. I wish I could make it better.”

“I wish you could, too.”

Sadie has no desire to celebrate her 15th birthday that following Summer. But she’s been faced with no choice. In George’s words they “had to because you only turn 15 once.” George had turned 15 earlier that year and didn’t seem to share that sentiment on his birthday, all they did was go to Matty’s house after school and sit in his living room for six hours. But he was insistent that the group had to go out for dinner, he’d gotten Denise on his side which ultimately led to Sadie agreeing. Her mother wasn’t best pleased, but she’d grown to not care, and her mothers grown to know she can’t fight her anymore.

She got dressed in rapid speed, desperate to get out of the house and reunite with her best friends. She hadn’t even gotten as much as a card from her parents and that says more to her than any words could have, she isn’t even sure they know her birthday is today. Pulling on her jeans, probably quicker than the speed of light, she grabs her jacket and runs down the stairs, she shouts a bye to anyone who cares and hops on her bike to Matty’s house. They’re all meeting there for some big surprise before they go out to dinner.

The August sun is beaming down on her face, she pauses and squints up at the sky and notices how blue it is, she smiles and looks back down at her bike. She decides that draping her jacket over the handlebars is a better idea, her backpack is half on her back because she was in such a rush. When she bikes the familiar back road she takes note of how the trees have turned from pathetic twigs to bright green scenery, she shuts her eyes for a second and let the Summer air infiltrate her lungs. She is grateful to be alive.

When she biked round the corner at the end of Matty’s road she could see all the boys engaged in a water fight, her urge to turn right back around grows stronger the closer she gets, George’s pathetic screams and Matty’s maniacal laughter grow louder, and she can’t help but laugh to herself. She hears Denise scolding Ross for going too rough and shakes her head as she throws her bike down on the driveway, climbing off and running away from all the boys who immediately turn on her with their water attacks. “Hey!! Stop, it’s my birthday!”

George laughs louder than Sadie had ever heard someone laugh before, probably because the boys weren’t targeting him anymore. She squeals and tries to run into the house, but Adam blocks the door, and she feels more water shooting at the back of her head. She hits his chest and tells him to move at least fifty times, but he doesn’t budge so she runs. She runs round the house to the back garden where she knows Matty keeps the water guns, just as she suspected there’s a pile of them, half-full, on the grass. Sure, they’re the shit ones, but they’ll do the job.

She hears a gasp behind her. “She’s found the pile, run.” She laughs and whips herself around, gun in each hand, to the pathetic squeals of four boys who run back around to the front of the house. There’s a knock on the kitchen window which distracts Sadie for a second, she sees Denise waving wildly at her, she waves back and sees her saying “Happy Birthday!” She laughs and runs round the house to get the boys back.

A half hour later Denise calls out the front door for them to come in. They all race into the house, Matty being shoved by George and Sadie laughing so hard she stops in her tracks. She gets stopped in her tracks even further when she sees the pile of gifts under the TV. She gasps quietly and barely hears everyone wishing her a happy birthday in unison, the tears pricking her eyes are stinging the back of her throat. This is the most anyone’s done for her birthday. George puts an arm round her shoulder and shakes her slightly, then slightly shoves her to the presents. “Save the one with the pink wrapping paper for last.”

Sadie’s bottom lip wobbles and she lets out an exasperated laugh. “Guys, this is too much. I don’t even know what to say.” She moves towards the gifts as if they’re going to jump out and scare her. She sees the three cards on the top and picks them up, sitting down on the floor in front of the TV. The boys, Denise, Tim, and Louis are all scattered across the couches and the floor too, just watching. She opens the one from Denise, Tim, and Louis first and smiles through teary eyes at the kind words written on the page. She has the same reaction to the other two cards, one from all the boys, one from just Matty.

After a while Sadie’s face is wet with tears, she’d laughed at some of the funny gifts, and with her new necklace round her neck she looked at the last gift, the pink one, cautiously. “Is it alive? Am I gonna be scared?” Matty laughs and shakes his head. She lifts it into her lap and looks at the tag, it reads that it’s from the boys. Before she opens it Denise cuts in.

“They all saved up for this on their own. Came up with the idea and everything.” Sadie looks to the group of boys on the other couch who all look very smug, she rolls her eyes at their faces and turns back to the gift. She carefully unwraps it and can’t help the sob that comes out of her mouth. The new Sony camera is sitting in front of her. When she gets hold of herself she opens the box and gasps at the sight of it. “Guys, oh my god. I can’t take this, you’re kidding.”

“Well, none of us know how to use it.” Sadie tackles the four of them into her arms, jumping on top of them all on the couch, muttering a hundred thank yous under her breath. She doesn’t even know how the boys managed to afford it, maybe some of Matty’s odd jobs he was doing helped, or Ross’ job down at the shop. She didn’t know, but she knew she would never forget this. Sadie felt that same feeling again from earlier. She was grateful to be alive.

By the time Matty’s 18th rolls around, the rest of the group have a plan. They’ve all saved up enough money to buy tickets to Leeds festival, and they’ve all chipped in to get one for Matty’s birthday. Sadie wasn’t allowed to go before, but Denise gave in this year and let her tag along with the group. She makes all of the parental decisions for Sadie now, since she pretty much lives at the Healy’s house. Denise’s reasoning was that it would be after her 17th birthday, deeming her old enough to go. Matty, Ross, Adam and Jamie had gone last year but all they had talked about when they came back to Sadie and George was how excited they were to go next year, the full group.

Ross, George and Sadie were currently sat in Matty’s back garden, waiting for Matty and Adam to get home from work. Sadie and Ross were sharing a cigarette and talking about the lineup for Leeds. More like arguing. George was observing with a cigarette of his own, he’d only spared one to the duo because he’s stingy. “No, Sadie. Nine Inch Nails are more exciting than the fucking Smashing Pumpkins. Think of it, you’re in a muddy field what would you rather listen to.”

Sadie looks at him like he’d grown a second head. “The Smashing Pumpkins.” Ross just groans, George laughs loudly. “What?! I would!”

“You’re actually fucked in the head, Sadie. George, please back me up.” He passes the cig back to Sadie who takes it and looks at George with a raised eyebrow. He takes a sip of his coke and looks away from the pair, whistling at the sky. Sadie laughs and passes the cigarette back to Ross. He tells her to finish it, so she does.

“No, to be fair to both of you, I’d rather be at Paramore. If I had to choose.” Sadie and Ross both share a look and collapse into each other laughing.

“Okay, one, Paramore is on Sunday, we’re talking about Friday. And two, they weren’t even in the equation to begin with.” Ross nods at Sadie’s words and George just sticks his middle finger up at the pair, who laugh at him again. They hear the back door opening and turn to see Matty, they shut up about their prior argument quite quickly. The trio share a look and have to hide their laughs.

“Hello boys. And Sadie.” They nod up at Matty who cracks open his coke and pours it over the ice in his glass. He looks at the three that have gone silent and squints his eyes slightly before taking a sip of his coke and lighting a cig. Sadie looks at the other two who are giving her looks as if to say, “Say something.”

She turns back to Matty, who turns to her. “How was work?” George lets out a barely audible groan and she looks at him incredulously. Matty nods around his glass and then kind of shakes his head.

“It was okay, not busy, boring. I like it there, though.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome for getting you that job. I’ve been there for like a year now. Remember when I walked in one day and George was just standing in the kitchen? That was stupid.” George laughs at her and she turns to him. “No, I was so confused.”

“I was working, where did you want me to stand?”

“It would’ve been nice to know you were working at the fucking place?” George shakes his head.

“Wanted to surprise you.”

“Some surprise that is, George!” He, yet again, sticks his middle finger up at her. This time she does it back. Matty scoffs and leans his head back with a sigh, he stretches his arms and one of them comes to rest on the back of the bench behind Sadie.

She points up at the sky, the sun is setting behind the clouds which cast a pink hue down on the group of four. They stay outside until the sun is probably in the middle of the sky in Australia. Adam arrives not long after Matty and Sadie gives him a subtle nod and thumbs up, trying to tell him that they got the Leeds tickets today. He looks confused at first, but he gets it after a minute. When Matty goes inside the four speak in whispers about how they have to tell Matty, because George is unable to keep it a secret. The back door swings open again and the four sit up straight. “Right, you guys are hiding something from me.” Sadie can’t help herself.

“We’re going to Leeds.”

Leeds was a fucking nightmare. Everyone fought. Everyone made up. Then they fought again. They all got so high they probably couldn’t see. Ross and Sadie ended up seeing Nine Inch Nails together after losing everyone else, and despite being in the clouds, Sadie remembered to act like she didn’t want to be there. Until she actually started enjoying herself. And George got to see Paramore. Almost. He passed out and Sadie shouted at him in the medical tent after he just came to because she was missing out, she was forced to take him to the medical tent.

Sadie was sick on some girl’s shoes at the Kings of Leon set. It was her, George and Adam having the time of their lives until some older girl started flirting with George, obviously he was loving it, but Sadie was already having a bad high and when she saw the way that girl was looking at George she just couldn’t help it! It all kicked off when George and the girl teamed up and tried to fight her. George was forced to take her to medical and as she was thrown over his shoulder he was yelling about how she’d ruined the weekend.

Safe to say the drive home was silent. Matty had the biggest hangover behind the wheel and Ross was cradling Sadie in the backseat as if she were his child, George was practically hanging out the window on the other side of Sadie. The one memory she has in the car is when they were all sat on the grass, ages away from any music, when Matty turned to the boys and said, “Reckon we’ll be on one of these stages soon?” The question was ringing through Sadie’s mind.

A few days later the group were all sat in Matty’s garden (like usual) with drinks in hand, reminiscing on the festival after they’d all taken some much needed time away from each other. Anytime Matty’s eyes caught hers she felt her heart stop. She isn’t sure he remembers but the day after they got back Sadie jolted awake with a vision of her kissing Matty. She doesn’t know when or if it actually happened, but it seemed too real to be something she conjured up in the middle of the night. Ever since, she’ll wake up in a cold sweat with visions of Matty’s lips on hers. She remembers it being a life-changing kiss, though, so there’s that at least.     

Sadie makes a point to be the last to leave Matty’s house, she’ll probably end up sleeping here tonight, like usual. It’s a rare sight to see Sadie sleeping in her own bed these days, it probably occurs once a month at most. When Adam shuts the door behind him, Sadie feels her heart fall out of her ass, the silence is less than comfortable. If she can feel the shift in energy surely Matty can. He sits down beside her and turns to her. “Do you remember?”

Sadie feels like she’s died in her seat. Her eyes have practically fallen out onto the dining table. She spins her glass on the table awkwardly, thinking of what to say. What would he say if she lied? Would he pretend it never happened? She decides not to lie, because when his face is as close to hers as it is right now, she thinks she’d like to kiss him again. “Yeah… Do you?”

“Wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t, hmm?” Sadie feels like her 14 year old self, meeting him for the first time. Her face is flushed pink, she’s picking at the tracksuit bottoms on her thighs, and she’s avoiding eye contact. She wishes the ground would eat her alive, because one thing about Sadie is she doesn’t know how to flirt. “Hurt me seeing you kiss that other guy the next day.” As he says this his hand has come up to play with the loose strand of hair that had fallen out of the front of her ponytail. She looks up at him through her eyelashes. Her voice is no louder than a mutter.

“Sorry, didn’t know what I was doing, don’t even think I knew where I was.” Matty laughs softly at this and looks down at his lap, but his eyes catch Sadie’s nervously picking at the loose thread on the seam of her tracksuit. He feels his heart skip a beat as he grabs it. This makes her face him, looking into his eyes. The silence around them is suffocating and Sadie feels like she might pass out on the floor. When he makes the move to shuffle slightly closer, she smirks at his face. She doesn’t know where she grew the confidence but when she mutters, “Just do it.” He breaks the distance.

The butterflies in her stomach feel cliché, the way the kiss picks up in pace feels even more so. His lips on hers feels like coming home to your own bed after you’ve been abroad for a week. It feels like the smell of your own house after being away for a while. She knows that when her hand comes up to the back of his neck that it holds an ulterior motive, this is confirmed by his hand on her hip, guiding her closer. She wants to consume him in this moment. When they break away for a breather, Sadie doesn’t open her eyes, she doesn’t want to face this moment, but when she feels a squeeze on her hip she can’t help but open one eye. Matty laughs and leans his forehead to hers.

“Sleep in my room tonight.” That’s all that Sadie has ever wanted to hear.

The slight fling between Sadie and Matty didn’t really last for very long. The group all moved into a flat together and the flame between them just kind of flickered out. George noticed the change in Sadie’s demeanour ever since. He was the only other person who knew about Matty and Sadie, but because he was the best friend of both he had to be there for both. It was eating him alive. He was laying in Sadie’s bedroom, joint between his lips. They were sharing it.

“He fucks anything with legs. But I can’t move on. What’s with that?” Sadie plucked the joint from George’s mouth, and he rubs his eyes his face with a groan. He watches the smoke leaving Sadie’s lips intensely, staring at the way it clouds up in the air and dissipates into nothingness, this is how Sadie and Matty’s relationship felt. He sits up slightly on the bed with an indignant sigh.

“His way of coping, I suppose. He didn’t exactly get an explanation as to why you stopped sleeping in his room. Now he just needs someone sleeping there to fill that void for him.” It’s Sadie’s turn to sigh now. She knows George is right, but she doesn’t like the answer and she doesn’t want to hear that he’s suffering. He’s being a bitch and he should just come and speak to her. Silence falls over the duo and George stubs out the joint gently before opening his arms for Sadie.

She isn’t feeling very grateful to be alive.

[sugar-coat-it]

Teenage Dream: Firsts

Original fic: Teenage Dream

HEYYY welcome back to teen dorks in love <3 <3

Contains: Matty meeting her parents/seeing her room for the first time, making out, cute inexperience, guided handjob, oral sex (M receiving), having to be quiet, Matty losing his fucking mind

WC: 5.3k

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FIRSTS: the first blowjob (Pre Teenage Dream!)

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Matty’s POV

Matty pulls at the collar of his button-down shirt, the heat of June has him sweating down his back. He wipes his palms onto his pants, cringing at the moisture that had gathered on them. The summer heat wasn’t the only reason he was almost overheating as he stood on your front porch. He eyes your door like it’s a fifty-foot-tall beast from a video game he’s played, practically feeling himself shrinking before it. He shakes out his hands, blowing a puff of air out between his lips before picking up the box of cookies his mother had shoved into his arms before he left, berating him about going to someone’s home empty-handed. This was worse than any stage fright he’d ever felt. 

He curses under his breath, willing his hands to stop trembling as he reaches for the doorbell, pressing once, hearing the muffled chime from the inside that follows. His breath feels like it’s been sucked from his lungs as the door creaks open, his spine and shoulders stiffening rigidly. He glances between your parents before he spots you, sitting on the staircase, smiling at him. His heart skips a beat, it’s as if time itself has slowed. You had been waiting for him.

A wobbly smile pulls at his lips as your eyes lock, and suddenly, he can breathe again. His hand extends outward.

“Hello, lovely to meet you both, thank you for having me.”

—--------------------------------

Your POV

It’s an odd feeling, having Matty in your house. There’s a sense of giddiness that he’s here, but you keep it under wraps, knowing you both have to be on your best behavior, playing charades on the same team. You quietly observe him interact with your parents, tucking your hair behind your ear as you watch what feels like an interview. Does that make him your candidate? You suppress a smile at the thought. 

You don’t have to see Matty’s hands to know that he’s picking at his nails under the dinner table. Amid your father’s long-winded story about his music festival days, you dare to look over at him, seeing him looking so focused on listening that his eyebrows are drawn together slightly, nodding along. He’s trying so hard not to embarrass himself. 

You stare until his eyes flicker over at you for just a fraction of a second, feeling the weight of your gaze. You swear you see his eyes brighten just slightly, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips, threatening to give him away. 

Silently, you reach out towards him under the table, blindly feeling until you find his hand resting on his knee, making a mess of the skin around his nails, just as you’d expected. Matty flinches slightly at the contact, sparks crackling under your fingertips at the lightest touch. Slowly, so slowly, he turns over his palm, allowing you to intertwine your fingers beneath the shield of your dining room table. Excitement sparks in you, unbridled and wild. It’s like your secret connection, so simplistic but it’s yours to share. You watch as he visibly relaxes, gently guiding his thumb back and forth over the back of your hand, eyes lighting up when your father mentions a band he likes.

“You saw them live? That’s so cool,” Matty beams, “Did they totally melt face?”

Your mother chuckles, knowing that Matty had opened a can of worms that was hard to reseal. You exchange a look with your mom across the table at the passionate discussion this had just sparked between your boyfriend and your dad. You were just glad that Matty didn’t look like he could spontaneously combust anymore. 

Dinner continues smoothly, Matty’s hand resting comfortably with yours as he chats with your parents, making them fall in love with him, of course. How could they not when he thanks your mom for such a lovely meal and laughs at all of your dad’s jokes? His smile beams when his manners are complimented, his cheeks tinged a light shade of pink. He chimes in on banter like he’s an old family friend. You like this. You really like this. He looks like he belongs here, in your life, at your table, under the gentle lighting of your kitchen. 

You’re getting ahead of yourself, you know it, but you can see a world just beyond your fingertips, one where you and him can hold hands every night under your own dinner table. His hands will be bigger, and stronger, but he’ll still intertwine your fingers just the same. Something warm blossoms in your chest as the chatter fades into the background… until a pointed question from your dad makes your ears prick up, your head whipping in his direction:

“So, what are your intentions with my daughter?”

Matty sputters, his heart beginning to race as his smile falters. He blinks at your father for a moment, his eyes widening as the question hangs in the air. 

“My intentions?” he echos softly, his hand tensing against yours as he quickly glances at you.

“Dad! Oh my god,” you chastise through gritted teeth. 

“I’m kidding, I’ve just always wanted to say that,” your dad grins, earning a shake of your mother’s head. 

Matty lets out a nervous chuckle, his eyes flickering to yours. You shoot him an apologetic look on behalf of the stupid joke. He smiles softly, reassuringly squeezing your hand as if to say “It’s okay, don’t worry”. You try not to, hoping your father doesn’t have any more comments up his sleeve that will give your boyfriend a heart attack. 

When the meal is over, Matty insists on helping to clean up despite being excused from the table. Your heart swells in your chest, he’s just so good to his very core. A tingle goes down your spine as your hands brush while clearing the table together. He smiles at you like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. 

It’s not long before you’re bounding up the stairs together, you leading the way to your room. You glance back at him before opening the door, a sense of thrill rushing straight to your head that you can’t quite explain. You catch the way his eyes sparkle in just the brief moment that your gazes meet, and you just know he’s feeling the same thing. 

The two of you step inside, standing in the middle of your shaggy carpet to allow him to take it all in, every photograph, book, and poster. Matty turns in a circle twice to see everything, his eyes wandering over all the little pieces of you that you’ve collected over time. Other versions of you still live here. He loves all of them even though he’s never met them. 

“Wow,” he breathes, “You have a lot of stuffed animals.”

Matty crouches by the edge of your bed, looking over each of them. Quietly, you join him, sitting on your knees next to him, highly aware of how your legs brush slightly. It’s like he’s feeling the essence of you through your trinkets, from childhood and otherwise. You hadn’t expected how vulnerable this feels.

“Ah, yeah I guess. Just don’t have the heart to donate them,” you admit softly, your eyes shifting between the small crowd of plush animals, “I think I’m a little attached to them.” Matty smiles. He can’t help but fall in love with you all over again at your sentimentality. He carefully picks up a dog, scooping it into his hands so he can feel its soft, synthetic fur. Watching him treat your things so gently has warmth blooming in your chest, noticing how gingerly he runs his fingers over the fluffy fabric.

 Matty turns to you with the stuffed animal in hand, moving its head and putting on a high-pitched voice to make it seem like it’s talking instead of him.

“Don’t put me in the bin!” 

You scoff with amusement, taking the dog from his hands and petting its back protectively before setting the plush back down with its friends. It’s quiet for a few beats before Matty speaks again, softer than before.

“Do they, um, have names?” 

You nod, pointing at each and telling him the names you’d given them long ago. You look over, catching the way Matty mouths each of their names after you say them like he’s trying to commit them to memory for a test. 

“Did you say this one is named Frog?” he squints, pointing at it.

“Yeah?”

Matty blinks at you, then the stuffed animal, then at you again. 

“It’s a cat.”

“I was five!” you defend, making his eyebrows raise with amusement.

“You should know your animals by then, no?”

You elbow him in the side, just enough to make him jump, a yelp escaping his lips as you tell him not to be rude, he is in your room after all. Matty raises his hands in mock surrender, a big, boyish smile on his face. He can imagine you as a young girl donning each of them with a name that meant something to you like you were knighting them (even if they didn’t make the most sense). 

Matty glances at you when you suddenly get up to your feet with spritely energy, his eyebrows furrowing slightly at your enthusiasm. 

“This is the best part,”  you grin, making your way to the wall and raising your hand to the light switch. 

The moment you shut the overhead light, your bedroom is bathed in the gentle, warm glow of both twinkling fairy lights strung across the walls and little plastic stars stuck to the ceiling. Matty feels a surge of wonderment as his eyes leap up to the glow-in-the-dark stickers, murmuring a “woah”. You’d hoped he wouldn’t think it was childish that you still had all of these things in your room, but he doesn’t seem to mind one bit, not with the way he looks at you, breathless at the way the lights illuminate your features. 

The two of you lie side by side on your bed, looking up at the glowing, plastic stars stuck to the ceiling. They might be fake, but the comfort is real. He holds your hand in his, running his thumb back and forth over one of your rings. Matty breaks the comfortable silence first, choosing to whisper because it just feels right. 

“I was nervous,” he confesses.

“Hm?”

Matty clears his throat, stealing a glance at you as his thumb pauses its gentle stroking. 

“About your parents. I was proper terrified, actually. You know. About making them think I’m a bad influence or something.” 

“A bad influence? Are you kidding? You were like the picture of politeness. Shaking their hands, saying what a lovely home they have. Kiss ass,” you chuckle, turning to face him, your head propped up on your hand. Matty mirrors you with a laugh.

“Hey! It’s called making a good first impression, miss.”

“I know, I know. You were great. They really liked you,” you whisper, reassuringly squeezing his hand.

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

Matty sighs, relief flooding over him. He can practically feel the last bit of tension draining from his body, finally allowing him to fully relax after being so self-conscious all night. Now that you’ve managed to untie the knots in his stomach with just a few words, he gets to marvel at how it feels to be in your space, on your bed, searching the depths of your eyes (and occasionally glancing at your lips). He wouldn’t mind staying here a long time. 

“I really wanna kiss you right now,” he whispers, his voice laced with the softest adoration. If he’s being honest, it’s all he can think about, it’s almost overwhelming.

“I really want you to kiss me right now,” you answer with a breathless laugh, not missing a beat. 

Matty grins at your immediate response, his cheeks dusted a rosy shade of pink. You shake your head at how dorky he looks. as if he’s just now realizing your proximity to each other. Your pulse is racing with anticipation. 

“Are you gonna do it, or–” you start, only to be cut off by him closing the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours softly. 

Your eyes flutter shut as sensation washes over you in a fizzling wave. You feel your heart sigh as Matty squeezes your hand before letting go, his fingers trembling slightly as they find your waist, resting there while he gently slots his lips against yours. Matty shudders as your hand climbs from his back into his hair, knotting into the thick, dark tresses. You feel him gasp softly as your tongue slides over his bottom lip, immediately responding by opening his mouth to you, eagerness seeping from his kiss. You allow him to draw you in, his lanky frame warm against your body as the kiss continues, heightening the need for intimacy, for closeness, to forget the world that lies beyond this room.

You’ve lost track of how long you’ve been kissing when you withdraw your hand from his hair, reaching between the two of you for Matty’s belt, curling your fingers against the buckle. Instantly, his body goes taut, pulling away from the heated lip lock with widened eyes. You stare back at him with a heaving chest, your hot breaths intermingling in the lack of space between you. Matty licks his lips, tasting the residue of your flavored chapstick. Cherry. His favorite of your collection. 

“What?” you whisper, eyeing his swollen, shining lips. Your heart threatens to sink in your chest at his hesitation.

Matty rushes to collect himself, his mind jumbled with thoughts, feelings, desires, and you. Mostly you. His eyes find your bedroom door nervously, his hand tensed at your waist as he pants, silently weighing the risk. 

“Your parents…” he murmurs before swallowing thickly. 

You shake your head, taking a firmer hold on his belt, feeling the way Matty’s breath catches in his throat almost violently. His reaction only makes you want this more, want him more. 

“They’re downstairs. They won’t hear anything.”

He glances again at your bedroom door, closed, but he couldn’t remember if you’d locked it. He chews at his bottom lip, looking at you through his lashes as he tries to ignore the obvious straining against the seam of his jeans, the feeling urging him, whispering in his ear tantalizingly, telling him to just do it. 

“Are you sure? Is it really okay?”

You trail your hand from his stomach up to his chest, pressing your hand over Matty’s heart, feeling the way it’s madly racing beneath your palm. Gently, you let your head tilt forward, resting your forehead against his as he attempts to calm his breathing, his eyes nervously flickering over your face.

“I’m sure,” you whisper, running your thumb back and forth over the fabric of his shirt, “Can I…?”

Matty’s breath shudders, his eyes fluttering shut as he gulps, trying to focus on the subtle gentleness of your forehead resting against his. He nods slowly, reassuringly squeezing your side. 

“Yeah. Please.”

You place one last sweet, soft kiss on his lips before untangling yourself from him and sliding off of the mattress to kneel in front of the bed. Your hands tremble slightly in your lap at the thought of exploring this new territory. You’d never gone beyond kissing and getting a little handsy in the bathroom at school or in the backseat of his car. You’d pretend not to notice the way he pulled his shirt down to try and hide his “problem” after the fact. But now, you’re at eye level with the noticeable bulge in his pants when he awkwardly shifts on the bed to sit in front of you. Matty’s lips part with a breathless squeak of “Oh, god” as you reach up, smoothing your hands over his thighs. 

“Are you… are you really gonna…?” he trails off, his face bright pink. 

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?” 

“I-I dunno, I just—“ Matty pauses, letting out a wavering breath while bringing a hand down to cup your cheek, “God, you’re amazing.”

The pure adoration in his eyes makes your heart skip a beat. Or five. You’re not quite sure. You lean into his palm, pressing your flushed cheek against his hand with a bashful smile. Matty bites his lip, nervously grinning like he just can’t contain himself.  

“You look… so good,” he muses, running the pad of his thumb over your plush bottom lip, causing you to pant softly. 

His breath hitches when you kiss his digit, marveling at the sight of you with what feels like hardly any oxygen in his lungs. Slowly, you dip your head down, maintaining eye contact as you press your lips over his clothed erection. Matty’s eyes go wide, a strangled gasp escaping him as his cock jumps beneath the fabric at the heat of your mouth. He’s pictured this exact scenario over and over, the fantastical figment of you down on your knees, your eyes piercing into him while he slid his hand down the front of his pants at the thought. 

Instinctively, his hips jump forward at the pressure. You smile, gently placing one hand on his hip to keep him still, rubbing little circles over his hip bone with your thumb. Matty’s hand stays at your cheek as you kiss and mouth over the hardness in his pants. You can feel your face burning, your mouth watering at the warmth and pressure beneath the fabric as Matty struggles to maintain some semblance of composure, his head falling back against the wall. You watch his free hand strangle your bedsheets, his whole body slightly tremoring with the urge to move and grind against you. You pray these are all good signs.

“Shit… babe, please,” he pants, tenderly running his thumb over your cheek, “I’m so fucking hard it hurts.”

Matty whines quietly as you place one more kiss over his tip before pulling away, smiling at the satisfaction of drawing such sounds from his pretty lips. Fumbling slightly, you undo his belt with quiet clinks, carefully placing it to the side as you listen to his heavy breathing. Heart racing, you reach for his zipper, trailing your fingers over the seam of his trousers before pulling it down. You chew at your lip as Matty groans with relief at some of the pressure being taken off. The two of you share an anxious glance as you hook your fingers into the waistband of his pants, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as he tries to give you better access. He doesn’t yank his pants down, he waits. He waits for you to take the time you need. 

With bated breath, you peel down his trousers along with his boxers, just enough for his erection to spring free, the tip wet with precum. You feel a pang of molten desire resound between your legs at the sight. Your mind which was previously roaring with thoughts goes stunningly blank.

Matty swallows nervously as you stare at him, his mouth dry, his cheeks red as he shimmies his pants the rest of the way down his legs. Oh god, what if you think it’s ugly? It’s not that bad, is it? He’s never thought about it too much before, but now he’s so exposed. He knows none of them are “nice”, but at this moment he thinks he might keel over and die if you thought he was unattractive, or even worse, repulsive below his belt. A thought crashes into him of you changing your mind, pulling up his pants again, and calling it a night. His stomach twists with a whirl of insecurity. He finds himself desperate for a reaction, anything.

“Is… is it okay? Am I… okay?” he asks. His voice is barely a whisper, almost like he’s afraid to know the answer.

You snap out of your haze, noticing the almost queasy look on your boyfriend’s face, his eyes downcast. You quickly shake your head, adoringly squeezing his hip. 

 "More than okay. Wow, you're–” you exhale shakily, admiring him, "big.”

Matty’s eyes widen, precum leaking from his tip at the unexpected praise, his ego sufficiently fluffed. He feels like his face is on fire, his heart pounding in his chest, thrumming against his ribs because oh god, you just said what he hears in his wet dreams of you.

“You really think so?” he whispers, bleeding vulnerability.

You nod slowly, glancing up from his lap to meet his widened eyes. Truthfully, you’re not sure if he’s “big” without any point of reference, but the way he reacted when you said it... you’ll happily continue to say so. Besides, just by eyeing him, you’re pretty sure you could use two hands, and that’s more than enough to make nervous excitement bubble up inside of you. You lick your lips. You’re not a greedy girl, but for the first time, you have the intent to devour something. Him. 

“How do you like it?” you ask quietly, your hands running up and down the soft, pale skin of his thighs. 

 “I-I don’t know, I’ve never…” he trails off, chuckling nervously as he rakes a hand through his hair.

“Oh,” you whisper, your cheeks prickling with warmth. You could have guessed it, but he’s just as new to this as you. You don’t have to compete with the memories of other experiences, yet, a silly part of you still wants to take first prize with flying colors and be the best he’s ever going to have.

It’s quiet for a few moments. You can’t hear anything except the echo of your heartbeat in your ears until Matty delicately takes one of your hands into his, guiding it toward his lap. He stops short of his weeping erection, you can feel the warmth of him just a fraction of an inch from the pads of your fingers.

 “You can… like this…” Matty mutters, his tongue darting out over his pink lips. 

Your heart leaps in your chest as he slowly wraps your hand around himself, enclosing his fingers around yours. Your mouth drops, the both of you shuddering at the contact, feeling the weight of him against your palm. 

Gently, Matty guides both of your hands upwards with a moan. Your breath catches as the slickness of his precum coats your palm before he directs your fist back down.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers.

Both of your stares are completely transfixed on the sight of your hands working together to stroke him, Matty’s fingers curling a little firmer around yours, tightening your grip. He curses under his breath, legs trembling. Your hand feels so much different than his, he’s almost lightheaded from how good this all feels.

“Is this how you do it when you…?” you whisper, stealing a glance at his flushed face. 

“When I touch myself?” he finishes breathlessly, his cock twitching in your fist, “Yeah. Yeah, something like this.” 

He groans as he steadily increases the pace, rolling his hips up into your hands. There’s something surprisingly sweet about the way his hand is wrapped around yours, it was something that felt familiar, something grounding amidst the rush of your combined effort. He gently rubs over your knuckle with his thumb.

“It’s always to you. You know that? I-I can’t unless it’s you,” he whispers lowly, his voice scratchy between soft pants for breath. Your heart flutters at the admission. He’s more perfect than he could ever know. 

The eye contact is dizzying as he withdraws his hold on you, leaning back on his hands to watch instead, his undivided attention on you. Inhaling steadily, you maintain the pace he had set, paying extra attention to the tip of his cock the way he seemed to prefer it. You look up at him with twinkling eyes, pleading for approval. What you find are Matty’s brows drawn together, his pretty lips parted with his heavy breaths, and his eyes lidded and dark, almost black with lust. You’re glad you’re on your knees, the sight of him like this could have swiped your legs out from under you. He nods quickly, not daring to open his mouth because he doesn’t trust himself to speak properly.

“I-if you could use your hand t-to, um, twist, that would be really– ah shit, really nice,” Matty stutters when he finally manages to get his melting brain to operate.

“Twist?” you repeat, tilting your head at him.

“Mm. Like you’re… like you’re um…” he hesitates, realizing he doesn’t have an analogy to help explain, awkwardly trying to recreate the motion in the air, “Fuck me, I can’t think when you’re touching me like– don’t laugh, just let me show you!”

The both of you try to stifle your giggles, beaming at each other with shining eyes. You copy the motion he had made, maneuvering your hand with a bit of uncertainty. Your lack of sureness quickly fizzles out when Matty grunts, causing a flutter between your thighs as you watch his expression shift from amusement to bliss. 

“Fuck, that’s good,” he mutters appreciatively, his voice becoming more ragged, desperate, “You’re doing so, so good.”

The praise has you sticky between your thighs. You pause, taking your hand off of him momentarily to lean in and spit into your palm as politely as possible. Matty squirms, practically writhing when you resume pumping his length, twisting your wrist like he’d shown you. The slick, obscene noises fill the silence of your bedroom, the sound causing heat to flush through your body. 

“Does that feel nice?” you whisper, confidence sparking within you as you watch him melt into your mattress.

Matty whines, nodding again vigorously as his hips jerk upward. At that moment, Matty knew he was ruined forever. He’d never be able to get off again without comparing it to the way your hand feels, longing for the touch he can’t replicate on his own. He opens his mouth to speak, but can only seem to stammer, his lashes fluttering with pleasure.

“Jesus fuck, baby. How’d you learn that?” he pants.

You can’t remember how, and Matty can’t find it in him to care too much because he’s repeatedly counting upwards and downwards from 1 to 10 in his head to try and distract himself from his impending orgasm. His eyes are squeezed shut tightly, he knows it’ll only be worse if he watches the way you’re working him. He can’t let this be over yet, he needs this a little longer, god please, just a little longer. 

“Look at me,” you urge softly. You’ve never spoken that way before, the silky voice that comes out doesn’t feel like your own quite yet. 

 Matty’s eyes blink open hazily as you brush his hair away from his crimson cheeks. He feels all sorts of high at the moment, his chest heaving as he tries not to cum on the spot at the fucking daydream that is you on your knees for him. His perfect girl with her perfect hand wrapped around his cock and– oh.

You lean down, your gaze unwavering as you kiss his tip, a pearl of precum spreading onto your lips. He freezes, every muscle in his body taut as you gently slide your tongue over the head of his dick, tasting the warm saltiness. It feels obscene, pornographic, indecent, and any other word that would contradict how good it feels, the way heat stirs in you. You want more.

Matty’s eyes roll back, his mouth opening in a silent cry, the sensation almost too much to bear as your head sinks lower, your pretty lips tight around him. His hand unthinkingly flies to your head, knotting into your hair like he’s desperately trying to have a hold of anything to keep him anchored to the ground. His other hand claps over his mouth to muffle a shocked moan as you begin to bob your head, a look of pure ecstasy gracing his features. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my fucking god,” he gasps, seemingly every inch of him trembling. 

Humming around him, you feel an aching in your very bones to hear every sound from him unfiltered, to grab his hand and let every syrupy moan pour from his mouth, dousing you in heat. But you know if he ever wants to look your parents in the eyes again, he has to be quiet despite how overwhelmed he is by sensations. 

“H-holy shit. Please, keep… keep doin’ that, oh god. That’s amazing,” Matty babbles with his hand firmly over his lips, feeling like his head is barely attached to his neck. 

His hips twitch with little bucks as he fights the urge to unconsciously thrust into your perfect, wet mouth. Cheeks hallowed, you watch as he stares at you, completely and totally awestruck. You’ve heard of guys that push heads down when receiving oral, but not him, Matty shakily, gratefully pets your hair like he’s trying to thank you without the words that he couldn’t find if he tried. Not when your head is between his legs. 

Matty’s muffled noises get higher in pitch as he almost entirely forgets what a number is, his strategy to last longer gloriously failing him (in his head it sounds more like 1, 2– oh fuck jesus fucking– 3, um. God. I’m not gonna last, it’s over, it’s over she’s so beautiful–). He tightens his grip over his mouth, fingers digging into his cheek as he desperately tries to keep his voice down and not buck his hips.

“Baby. Baby, you’re gonna make me fucking cum,” he whimpers, both in warning and in compliments to you as he feels the pleasure build to a high. 

He expected you to take that as your signal to pull away and finish him off by hand, but you dip your head lower, doubling your efforts as you stroke what you can’t reach with your mouth. It’s only moments before Matty body arches with a stifled cry as he comes undone, spilling into your mouth. You gag slightly when his release hits the back of your throat, holding onto his quivering thighs for stability. 

Matty’s head tilts back as his whole body tenses with relief. His long, dark hair sweeps away from his face that twists with pleasure as he twitches in your mouth. He’s an absolute vision illuminated by the gentle, golden glow of the lights.

You swallow around him before slowly pulling away, sitting back onto the floor feeling fuzzy. You lick over your lips, the taste of him heavy on your tongue as you both catch your breaths. Matty slowly lets his hand fall from his mouth, revealing a lazy, sated smile that stretches across his face, his head still lolled back. He looks dazed out of his mind.

“That was… fucking intense,” he chuckles dreamily, sliding his boxers up his legs. 

His eyes crack open, his heart swelling at the sight of you looking up at him, your chin shining with drool. He lets go of your hair to wipe away your saliva with his thumb, panting softly as he admires you. Matty cradles your face with both of his hands, sliding off of the mattress to kneel on the floor with you. He simply stares at you for a moment, his eyes sparkling with unadulterated affection. Your breath catches in your throat. Neither of you can seem to speak, so he tells you everything he wants to say with a kiss instead, pressing his lips to yours with such tenderness that your whole body swoons. 

“Thank you… thank you,” he murmurs shakily, “I-I– you’re so perfect.”

“‘M not perfect,” you insist, smiling against his lips between kisses.

“God, you are to me.”

He pulls you closer, making you giggle as he dips you backward, supporting you at your back as he kisses you, tasting himself on your lips. He swears when he gets the chance, he’ll repay the pleasure you gave him tenfold, give it to you until you can’t take anymore because you deserve nothing less. 

“It was good?” you ask softly, your forehead pressed to his. 

“Oh, baby. I’m never gonna be the same. I'm done for," he grins, searching your eyes with wonderment. 

He means it. He’s going to be thinking about this night for a long, long time. 

[didyoulookforme]

walkabout

your teacher asks you to tutor none other than matty healy. the very beginning of the bf matty au.

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

au masterlist here

-----

you cannot believe your luck.

of all the people mr. davis could assign you to tutor, it has to be matty healy. matty, who sits at the back of the classroom, half-asleep, drumming on the desk like he’s got an entire band in his head. the boy who’s always late, looking as if he just rolled out of bed. the one everyone can’t stop whispering about—quiet, untouchable, with that mess of hair and a permanent slouch that somehow makes him even more infuriatingly attractive to every single girl in school.

“so, you’ll do it, yeah?” mr. davis asks, holding you both back after class, his tone practically daring you to argue. his eyes flick between the two of you, clearly expecting some kind of protest.

no. absolutely not. you want to say, mr. davis, i will do literally anything else. mop the floors. clean the whiteboards. just, please, don’t make me do this.

but instead, you say, “of course,” because that’s what good students do, isn’t it?

mr. davis turns to matty, who, by the way, hasn’t even looked at you once. not even a glance. “and you? will you actually show up?”

“yeah. sure.” matty shrugs, voice low, casual, not impolite exactly but not making any promises either.

when you leave the classroom, your brain is spinning. how is this your life now? you spend the rest of the day picturing every way this could go wrong. matty showing up late—or not at all. matty being too quiet, distant, barely meeting your eyes. matty fidgeting in his seat, counting the minutes until he can leave, not paying attention whatsoever.

and after school, you unload all your frustration onto your friend, desperate for a shred of sympathy. but really, you should’ve known better.

“shut the fuck up.”

her voice slices through the air, sharp and disbelieving. she’s already sitting up, magazine abandoned, eyes wide like you’d just confessed you were moving to mars. “are you serious?”

“unfortunately,” you groan, covering yourself with your favourite pillow, your words coming out muffled. “apparently, someone thinks i’m a miracle worker who can make him care about school.”

“holy shit.” she leans forward, her grin stretching wider by the second. you can feel it without even looking. “you’re kidding. matty fucking healy?”

“yes.” you drag the pillow over your face wishing it could block out her inevitable reaction. “he doesn’t even try in class. now i’m supposed to magically make him care about algebra?”

“oh, who gives a flying fuck about algebra!” she waves a hand dismissively. “you’re gonna be sitting across from him. alone. for an hour. every week. that’s… basically the fucking dream.”

“oh my god,” you collapse further into the bed hoping the worn sheets beneath can provide some sort of comfort. “you’re delusional.”

“no, you’re delusional if you think this isn’t fate.” she’s practically vibrating with excitement now. “you have to find out everything about him.”

“he’s not some alien experiment,” you deadpan, lifting your head just enough to glare at her. “he’s just a guy who probably can’t add fractions.” still, the thought lingers. maybe you do want to know more—just a little. not because you care, obviously, but because it’s… curious. infuriatingly so.

“and yet, he’s also the hottest guy in school. don’t even try to deny it.”

you hesitate. she’s not wrong, exactly, but you can’t admit that—not out loud.

“there’s no—”

“don’t.” she cuts you off like a stern teacher catching a student mid-lie. “i know you. i remember. you had the biggest crush on him.”

you can’t help that your face burns instantly. “that was years ago.”

“doesn’t matter,” she sings songs, her grin practically glowing. “you were obsessed. you used to be like, ‘oh my god, matty’s curls looks so soft’ and ‘did you see how he dressed today?’ you were embarrassing.”

“i was twelve.” your voice cracks, too defensive, maybe too high-pitched. “it doesn’t count.”

“oh, it absolutely counts.” she leans closer, “plus, you’re really flustered right now.”

“i’m not!”

“you so are.” the smile plastered on her face is absolutely wicked now. “you still like him, don’t you?”

your stomach warps into knots. “jesus christ, no!” you practically shout, burying your face in your hands.

“sure,” she drags the word out. “but just so you know, louise totally made out with him at that party last month.”

your head snaps up so fast you’re pretty sure you strain something. “what?”

“uh-huh.” she looks far too pleased with herself. “she said he’s, like, weirdly good at it.”

“matty healy?” those two words don’t even make sense in your mouth and brain anymore.

“apparently, he’s super eager and… sweet. can you imagine? matty fucking healy being cute?”

you snort, because no. you can’t.

“right? same. but louise swears it’s true. she said he kept pulling her closer and saying, ‘is this okay?’ and ‘you’re really pretty.’”

your gut twists again, this awful, fluttery thing you refuse to acknowledge.

“you’re so full of shit.”

“she’s full of shit,” she corrects, laughing. “but honestly? if it’s true, it makes him even more confusing. how can someone be broody and sweet? pick a fucking lane.”

and there it is again—that thought you don’t want to have. matty healy. sweet. yup.

he barely talks to anyone, always hunched over a notebook or sketching weird little patterns on the edges of his papers. he’s quiet in this intense, self-contained way, like he doesn’t want anyone seeing too much. he doesn’t seem like the type to ask ‘is this alright?’ or let alone call someone pretty.

but what if he is? what if there’s something softer under all the sharp edges, something he keeps hidden on purpose? what if—

no. fucking. way. it’s ridiculous. you shove the thought down, locking it in the imaginary safe inside your brain. plus, he’s probably never even thought about you twice.

“he’s not like that,” you say finally, more to yourself than to her.

“oh, yeah?” she raises an eyebrow, daring you to argue. “guess you’ll find out, won’t you?”

“jesus christ, stop it.” you grab the nearest cushion and launch it at her, but she just laughs, catching it before it hits her face.

“hey, i’m just saying,” her grin is downright evil now. “if he’s a good kisser, you’re practically obligated to confirm it.”

“get out,” you groan, flopping back down.

but even as you bury your face back in the pillow, you can’t stop thinking about it.

what if she wasn’t wrong?

—

by the time the first session rolls around, your nerves are a complete wreck. your hands are clammy, you feel a bit lightheaded, and you’re already regretting every decision that’s led you here. the library is practically dead—just the low buzz of those ancient fluorescent lights and the occasional shuffle of someone flipping a page somewhere in the distance. it smells strange, this weird mix of dusty books and that lemony floor cleaner that somehow always feels sticky no matter how fresh it is.

your swear your bag is a million pounds, stuffed to the brim with textbooks and notes you’re not even sure will matter. every step toward the back of the room seems slower than the last, as if your feet are trying to talk you out of this whole thing. but you press on, your heart hammering, every instinct screaming to spin around and hide in the safety of the nearest aisle.

he’s already there when you stumble around the corner, looking exactly how you expected. his hair’s a reckless mess, all careless pieces falling into his face because gravity’s obviously playing favourites. his shoulders droop so far it’s a small miracle he hasn’t slid off the chair entirely. his tie’s hanging on by sheer willpower, slack and crooked, and his shirt—don’t even get started on the shirt—looks like it’s been wadded up at the bottom of a gym bag for weeks. yet by some ungodly miracle, he still looks stupidly good. you’re sure the universe must’ve bent the rules just for him.

you stop dead in your tracks, your stomach doing this annoying thing once again, but this time more from dread than nerves. he’s not quite intimidating but there’s something about the sheer disinterest radiating off him that makes you hesitate. you’re clutching your bag so hard your knuckles are white, and for one brief, tempting second, bolting feels like a legitimate option. but then he glances up, his eyes widening just enough to make it clear he didn’t think you’d actually show. the expression isn’t inviting, but it’s enough to stop you from finding the exit. barely.

“oh. hi.” his voice is soft, so quiet it takes you a second to register that he’s spoken.

you swallow hard, willing your nerves to calm, and walk over, lowering yourself into the seat across from him. “hi.” your voice comes out steadier than you feel, the single word hovering awkwardly in the air.

you pull your bag onto the table and set it down with exaggerated care, as if even the slightest sound might disrupt the fragile calm between you. he doesn’t say anything else, just shrugs, his movements loose and lazy, still half-melting into the chair. 

“are you ready?” you manage, keeping your tone neutral, polite, professional even.

another shrug. “yeah. sure.”

his voice is low and rough. perhaps it hasn’t gotten much use today. it’s still not exactly rude, but it’s not encouraging either. you nod, your hands fumbling slightly as you flip open your notebook. you start simple, writing out a basic equation: 3x + 4 = 10.

“try this one,” you say, sliding the notebook toward him.

he picks up his pen, taps it rhythmically against the table for a few beats, then scribbles something down. x = 2.

“good,” you say before you can stop yourself, a flicker of surprise coloring your voice. you didn’t expect him to nail it on the first try, and the unexpected ease of it catches you off guard. “okay, what about this one?” you write out another problem: 2(x - 3) = 8.

he stares at the equation for a long moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he traces the numbers with his eyes. his lips press together in concentration and for a brief second, you think he might actually be invested in figuring it out. then he bites his bottom lip, and it’s glossy and pink when he lets go, and you have to snap your attention back to your notebook, pretending you didn’t notice.

“uh… x is… 11?”

it’s wrong, obviously, and you should’ve seen it coming, but something about the way he says it—hesitant, unsure—makes you bite back a laugh. instead, you shake your head, the corners of your mouth tugging into an involuntary smile. “not quite. here, let me show you.”

you walk him through the steps, breaking it down as simply as you can, and to his credit, he listens. his eyes follow your pen as you write, nodding slowly while he tries to piece it all together. his hair falls into his face as he leans in, the faintest shadow of understanding flickering across his expression.

“oh. so x is 7.”

“exactly.”

he leans back with a soft sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. his fingers catch in the tangles, but it doesn’t seem to bother him—it’s more automatic than deliberate. “right. makes sense, i guess.”

you glance at his notebook, curiosity tugging at the edges of your focus. it’s open, but not to anything remotely useful. instead of math problems, the pages are crammed with chaotic scribbles—tiny guitars, abstract shapes, half-finished stick figures tangled with half-finished sentences. words scratched out and rewritten so many times they’re barely legible, spiraling across the margins in waves of ink that don’t seem to lead anywhere.

you try not to stare, but it’s impossible to ignore the sheer disarray of it. it feels oddly intimate, a window into his head he hasn’t really hidden but hasn’t offered up, either.

“this one’s hard,” he mutters, pulling you back. his voice is quiet again, but there’s a faint sense of frustration as he frowns at the problem you’ve written: 5x - 2 = 3x + 6.

“it’s not too bad,” you say, leaning forward slightly, your tone gentle. “just move all the x terms to one side and the numbers to the other.”

he scratches something down, his pen pausing mid-air as he hesitates, then scribbles a little more. finally, he looks up, the faintest smirk curling at the edges of his lips. “x is… 4?”

you nod, feeling a flicker of warmth at the small victory. “exactly. see? you’re getting it.”

his lips tug into a smile—small, tentative, almost reluctant—and it’s not much, but it’s something. you look away, turning the page in your notebook, refusing to acknowledge the way your chest flutters for half a second.

the hour drags and flies at the same time. he tries, which surprises you more than anything else given that he has the attention span of a newborn goldfish. his foot taps a steady rhythm against the floor, and his fingers keep tugging at the frayed edge of his sleeve, but when you gently redirect him, he comes back.

the more time you spend with him, the more details start to sink in. the way his voice softens when he’s unsure of something. the way his nails are bitten down to jagged nubs. the way his lips part slightly when he’s thinking, his gaze flicking back and forth between the notebook and the table as if the answer might reveal itself if he stares long enough.

when the hour’s finally up, you take your time packing up, every movement drawn out and careful, watching out of the corner of your eye as he shoves papers into his bag. half of them are crumpled, a few look like they’ve barely survived, and none of them seem to end up where they’re supposed to.

“thanks for this,” he mutters, barely loud enough to register, his focus stuck on cramming his notebook into the disaster zone. “i mean… yeah. thanks.” 

“no worries.” you aim for light, casual, as if your pulse isn’t doing that weird, too-fast thud in your chest. “that’s why i’m here. see you next week?”

he nods, barely, and there’s this tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth—a smile that doesn’t quite make it but lingers just enough to be noticeable. “yeah. see you.”

he walks off, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his bag hanging awkwardly from one shoulder, papers still sticking out at random angles. you’re just about to leave when your eyes catch something on the table. a crumpled piece of paper, left behind in his whirlwind of packing.

you pause, glancing around like you’re about to commit some kind of crime, but the library’s empty. no one’s watching. your fingers hover for half a second before curiosity gets the better of you, and you pick it up, smoothing the wrinkles carefully.

the handwriting is a mess—words scratched out and rewritten, lines twisted into tangles of uncertainty: and this is how it starts

take your shoes off in the back of my car van

you share my shirt, looks so good

when it’s just hangin’ off your back (???)

you stare at it, the edges still crumpled, the ink smudged in places where his hand must have dragged across the page. it feels too personal, but you can’t stop looking. your fingers hover for a second before folding it up and slipping it into your bag, your thoughts buzzing with questions you’re not sure you should even want answers to.

[butyou-callmewhenyourebored]

When We Are Together - Matty Healy

Summary: In which Matty falls in love with you in stages his entire life. He knows everything is better when you're together but the two of you are oblivious to the fact you're in love with each other.

Warnings: Swearing. A small section of smut in flashback 2. Unfortunately it's not with Matty. It's with George because I am a whore. Mentions of The S*n. Mentions of Matty going to rehab, obviously we don't know all the personal details apart from the fact there was an intervention after the ilwys era ended and he went and now he's in recovery.  

Author's Note: Self proclaimed 'Not a Matty girl' just wrote 12K lol this has legit taken so long cause I procrastinate but hope you like it!  Really fucking long because I tend to let my mind wonder, I don't even know if this is any good but I'm trying to get better. I thought the concept was cute anyway. So enjoy! Let me know what you guys think and if you liked it x

Word Count: 12K

Your life had always been surrounded by the boys. So many moments in your life that their fans could only ever dream of knowing about or being involved in but you didn’t know any different, it was just your life. You had no choice in the matter when your brother and best friend in the entire world was the bassist in the band. That’s right; Ross MacDonald was your big brother and you seemed to be somewhat of a legend amongst their hardcore fanbase yourself for putting up with their antics for as long as you had! Not that you really had a choice when you were tied to them via blood but they had also hired you as their personal assistant so you could follow them around the world and so none of them had to part from you for too long.

You had personal relationships with all of the band, not just your brother who genuinely was the best big brother you could have ever asked for. He was your best friend and had been since the moment you were born. Sometimes it irritated the others how annoying the two of you were when you both got into silly moods, with all your inside jokes and side looks that nobody else understood. Especially Matty who always wanted in on the joke. But Ross was a ride or die kind of guy and you were the same. If it came down to it you would fight over who took the first bullet.

Adam Hann. Adam truly was an angel of man sent to earth to be your bestie and you don’t think you could love him anymore if you could. Someone you could geek out about The Office with on the tour bus and who brought you coffee when he could see you needed a pick me up. The most level headed of the boys, you know he’ll always be on your side. Someone who’s come to your rescue during many nights out both pre and post fame and took your hand, pretended to be your boyfriend with no questions asked and got you away from creeps more times than you would have liked. You couldn’t be more grateful for a selfless friend like Adam Hann.

George Daniel. Your ‘little’ Georgie had been in your form at school, so apart from your brother until you were much older and started hanging out with them more, you had spent the most time with him. So it’s fair to say that the pair of you were close. So close that you lived with him and Matty in your early twenties. Even a small indiscretion on his 23rd birthday much to your brother’s dismay didn’t change the course of your relationship. Now that you were both thirty two and you were still working for him, clearly the two of you didn’t care that you had seen each other naked. If anything your night together all those many moons ago had brought you closer together. You would trust him with your life.

Then there was Matty. Matty was something else. If you asked his fans, depending on if you were asking old or new fans. He was something else in two senses of the word. To you he was just Matthew. Your big brother’s best friend who was a bit of a weird kid, transitioned into a somewhat cool teenager who you had a bit of a crush on when you were seventeen, to the most annoying person you’ve ever laid eyes on. But also he was your best friend. An old married couple is what George labeled you both and he wasn’t wrong, the pair of you did have a bit of a domestic life together when he wasn’t busy being a rockstar. 

I think the fans would be shocked to find out he likes doing the mundane things in life like doing the food shop with you and fighting at the tills that it was his turn to scan his club card. Or walking the dog, drinking a good cup of tea at his Mam’s house or cooking with you over a glass of wine with Donny Hathaway playing in the background on the record player.

He had done so much for you over the years and you always thought it was just Matty being Matty and looking out for you. Hiring you as the band’s assistant, so you could see the world with them so you weren’t stuck in a stuffy office job in England. Even though you had graduated from uni with a first class degree in photography. Moving you into his home when you broke up with your long term boyfriend in 2020 so you weren’t wallowing in self pity. It was probably then, that George cemented your “marriage status” because you did do everything together and apparently you had been oblivious your entire friendship until now.

It was in this moment in Belfast on the last night of the UK tour that your head swimming with all of the moments in your life that led you to here with Matty, tears brimmed with tears. That you realised that it was him the entire time.

April 2007

You pulled the front of the white tank top you were wearing down, allowing the frilly cups of your red bra to peek out the top. Your top tucked into a short black mini skirt, paired with a big chunky belt and hoop earrings and some wedged sandals on your feet. You actually felt good about yourself for once! You, Sarah and Rebecca ready to get drunk and dance your asses off with all of your friends as you celebrated Matty’s birthday.

Matty’s 18th birthday party was being held at his house. A classic Healy house party yet you still wondered how Denise and Tim were somehow trusting him enough for the night to not burn the house down so he could celebrate his birthday with his friends without parental supervision.

You of course had yet to turn eighteen, as had your brother who was only eleven months older than you. So you turned to your lord and saviour Adam Hann who went to the local off license and bought you a pack of Bacardi Breezers for the party.

When the three of you arrived; you immediately got swept away by your other school friends, giggling at the thought of getting drunk with all your friends and making out with boys your brother would definitely disapprove of was the motivation you needed to open your first drink of the evening.

It was after a few drinks, definitely too many shots of whatever George had proclaimed Matty’s Dad’s had left for the birthday boy. You were starting to feel the effects of the alcohol you had drunk that evening when you spotted Max. Tall, brunette, curly hair and a killer watt smile that made you weak at the knees, talking to George.

Silent motivation from Phoebe as she ruffled her hands through your hair and pushing your tits into a good position as Sarah dabbed on some more lip gloss before pushing you in the direction of the boys, slapping your ass with a quick “Go get him tiger!”

Shooting her a grin over your shoulder, you strutted on over to where George and Max stood clutching their beer bottles as they conversed about god knows what. Hoping to catch his attention, you threw on your best smile as you stopped in front of the two of them. 

“Hello boys!” You beamed a the two of them, eyes lingering on Max a little longer. “Having a good night?”  You asked, twiddling the straw around your drink as you waited for their answer.

“Even better now you’re here gorgeous!” 

Your heart fluttered for a moment. Max was flirting back.

“Your tits are looking mega tonight babe!” 

George broke your eye contact with the tall brunette as your eyes flitted towards him. The blush flushing across your cheeks at George’s compliment, “Ohhh thanks G!”  You laughed awkwardly, catching his eyes fall to your tits once more just as Ross walked past the three of you.

“Dude! That’s my sister!” He punched him in the arm; a scowl on his face and immediately pulling you away with him and far away from the boys and into the crowd of people dancing in Denise and Tim’s living room.

“You’re no fun!”  You huffed.

“You can do a lot better than Max sis. Believe me! I’m just looking out for you.” 

He smiled softly at you and you sighed, knowing you couldn’t ever stay mad at him. He knew you better than anyone else and always looked out for you no matter what. “Thanks bro.  I know. I’m just going to get some fresh air, it’s a bit stuffy in here.” 

You sent him a smile, squeezing past him and all the other sweaty bodies to head out the sliding doors at the back of Matty’s kitchen. Letting out the breath you hadn’t realised you had been holding as the cool spring air brushed over your skin. Taking in the serenity of the night air, you didn’t realise anyone else was out there until you heard a cough causing you to snap your head towards the noise.

Matty was leaning up against the back wall, cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Alright birthday boy! What you doing out here by yourself?” You laughed lightly as you approached; leaning next to him as you took in the slightly solemn look on his face.

“Bit overwhelming in there. Thought I’d like the attention but there’s too many people. Half of them are just here to get drunk, they don’t care about me.” He laughed bitterly; blowing smoke into the air. “Anyway. What are you doing out here?”

“Just needed some air. It was a bit stuffy in there. Too many people.”

“Ahhh so we’re alike in our thinking.” Matty laughed. “Wish it was just you and the boys to be honest.” He mumbled, shuffling his feet.

“Hey. You know if you want we can have a do over. Come over to mine and Ross’ tomorrow. We’ll order pizza and watch True Romance. I’d hate for you to not look back fondly at your 18th.”  You smiled softly as you spoke.

“You’re brilliant.” Matty’s eyes bright as he looked at you. “I’d really like that. Thanks sweetheart.”  Matty shot you a genuine smile for the first time since you stepped outside.

A brief moment of silence settled across the two of you before Matty spoke again.

“You look incredible tonight.”

“Ohhh.” You looked down at your feet, unsure of how to take the compliment.

“Hey.” Matty lifted your chin up. “What’s all that about? You’re the most beautiful girl in the room.” He said earnestly; swiping at the apples of your cheeks and holding your jaw in his hands.

“Just didn’t think anyone could look past the fact I’m Ross’ sister. Nobody ever calls me beautiful.”

“Not even Josh? Didn’t you date him for nearly a year?”  Matty asked as you shook your head.

“Then he’s an idiot. You’re always the most beautiful girl in the room darling.”

“Matty.” 

It came out a whisper as you both stared into each other’s brown eyes. Matty’s eyes dancing across your features, settling on your lips before looking back up and catching your gaze already on him. Matty leaned in, his face getting closer to your own as your mind started racing. 

Did you want to kiss Matty? Kinda, yeah! 

Should you kiss Matty? No, definitely not. Ross would kill the both of you. 

Did you kiss Matty? Yes.

“We shouldn’t.”  You whispered, lips mere inches away from his own.

“But a birthday kiss is all I want this year.” 

His words came out of a whisper, you didn’t say anything else just pushed your lips against his and allowed him to pull you closer as his mouth moved against the softness of your glossed lips. His hands moving from your face, dancing down the sides of your body and landing on your waist before he reluctantly pulled away, forehead resting against your own.

“You’re good at that.” He pecked your lips once more.

“Mmmm.”  You hummed; opening your eyes as Matty held you close. You quickly opened your mouth to say something and promptly shut it again when you caught the way Matty looked at you. “Fuck it!” You mumbled and slammed your lips back against his own.

The birthday boy now pushing you up against the wall, hands impossibly tight on your waist as he pulled you as physically close as possible. Your hands uprooting themselves in the hair at the back of his neck and tugging as you snogged him like your life depended on it. Like you weren’t pushed against the back of his kitchen wall in his garden, where any of your school friends could come out and catch you. Or worse; your brother but you didn’t care because the way Matty was kissing you made your whole body tingle.

Tugging his hair again as his tongue moved against your own. Matty groaned loudly; finally pulling away. “Fuck settle down! You know I can’t be found with you and if you keep doing that, someone is going hear us.” He groaned as he continued to pepper kisses up the side of your jaw.

“Hmmm, don’t feel like being murdered by my brother right now.”  You sighed; leaning back against the wall to take him in. Lips swollen and eyes bright as he watched you.

“I don’t want to be murdered by your brother either. Worst birthday ever!” He chuckled; hands dancing across your waist. “But that was my favourite birthday gift! Thanks sweetheart!” Matty grinned; watching you push yourself off the wall and smooth yourself down before heading back towards the house.

You paused for a moment; your foot on the last step, your hand lingering on the handle to the back door for a millisecond as you looked over your shoulder one last time at Matty who was just watching you. You sent him a soft smile, your hair falling in front of your face as you laughed before leaving him the dark as you rejoined the party.

A kiss with Matty who was your big brother’s (and your) annoying friend, someone you had an innocent schoolgirl crush on once he started becoming a tiny bit cool as the lead singer in their band. Something you didn’t think was an overly big deal, after all people kiss people they shouldn’t when they’re drunk all the time. Turns out it was the starting point of the trajectory of how your’s and Matty’s story begun.

March 2013

In the midst of releasing a series of EPs and gigging around the country and building up their hardcore fanbase. You had managed to get the boys all to just relax for a moment and celebrate the release of their Music for Cars EP and the fact that it was George’s 23rd birthday this weekend. And how did you celebrate? The only way you lot knew how, a dirty ole’ house party just like the good old days.

You had managed to squeeze God knows how many people in little flat you shared with George and Matty. As far as flatmate’s go, they weren’t all that bad. You had moved in with them straight after university so you had definitely had worse.

You had just downed what you believe was your fifth vodka shot of the evening and decided you needed to pace yourself a bit more if you weren’t going to stumble into your room and pass out any time soon. So upon spotting Ross, you wondered over to your brother who was sat talking to Hann; wiggling your way in between the two of them with a giggle. Ross automatically lifting his arm for you to slip under as you nursed the rest of your wine at a slower pace until your glass was empty.

After your head stopped spinning a sufficient amount, you found yourself milling about the flat and smuggling yourself into Matty’s embrace as he poured you another glass.

“Enjoying yourself sweetheart?” 

“Mmm. Have you see the birthday boy?” You felt Matty’s lips pressed to the top of your head as you asked.

“You leaving me already?”  He chuckled. “Think he popped out the back for a cig.” 

He motioned towards the back door. You immediately unravelled yourself from him, a kiss smacked against his cheek, catching the corner of his mouth. Not that you noticed in your flurry but Matty did. The longing for the feeling of the two of you had shared in his back garden prickling at his chest as his eyes locked onto your retreating figure as you rushed through the throng of remaining people in the kitchen and exiting the flat.

Matty was right. You found George smoking out the back in your little tiny back garden under the dying glimmer of your shit security light that was attached to your back wall. Turning in your direction at the sound of the back door shutting, George automatically opened his arms for you to slot into his side, arm hung loosely over your shoulder as he let out the smoke he had just inhaled. Wordlessly placing the cig in your mouth to let you take a drag yourself, you passed it back and forth between the two of you in silence.

Stubbing the end into the brick, George dropped it into the bucket of dirty filters before breaking the silence. “God what time is it?”  He asked as you watched him push the balls of his hand into his eyes.

“Nearly 2am! Why you need to go to bed Grandad?!”

“Fucking maybe?! How many people are left?” The now blonde motioned towards the house.

“Only a few. Heard Sally talk about some of them heading into town on the way out and Luke and Helen have to be up early so they left nearly a hour ago. Just the band and about three other now. You ready to head in birthday boy?” You asked; holding out your hand for him to take with a smirk.

With a silent nod George didn’t hesitate to grab onto your hand as you tried not to trip over the many plant pots that were littered across your garden path. “You given me my birthday present yet? I can’t remember?” You turned to look at the drummer. An amused look on your face because he had given you the brightest smile when he had opened the personalised drumsticks you had gotten him earlier. “Or are you my present? Wait is this an ambush?” George gasped. “Please be an ambush!” He grinned at you.

“You should be so lucky!”  You scoffed; before shooting him a smirk as you opened the the kitchen door.

“Your tits look mega in that dress by the way!” His tone smug as he closed the kitchen door behind him. Your only response being the cackle that left your mouth as you left George to watch you walk away as you joined the rest of the band in the living room.

Lucky indeed because once the remaining guests left about twenty minutes later. You had snuck into George’s room to say good night and wish him a happy birthday and it’s how you found yourself currently with aching arms. As they were locked either side of George’s knees, his hands tight on your waist as you bounced on his cock.

You weren’t sure how long you had been in this position. You do know he had already made you cum twice though. Once on his tongue and once with his fingers but my God were you spiralling towards your third. The thick drag of his cock between your legs as he stretched you out was delicious but you needed to cum quick because you weren’t sure how long you could stay in this position for.

“Jesus Christ! So fucking good George!” You wailed; as George’s thumb swiped through the slick between your legs and rubbing at your clit.

“Feel good baby?”

“Yes. Shit! So good!” You panted. “Arms hurt though, fuck.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” He said; pulling you forward.

You fell forward at full speed; having to catch yourself on either side of his face to stop yourself from head butting him as his large hands moved from your hips to grab on to the globes of your ass before plowing up into your cunt so fast you saw stars dance under your eyelids. All you could do was shake and babble out a string of, “So good. So good. So good.” As George made you cum again.

Pulling out quickly. You had no time to recover as George flipped you over; face already in his pillows as he pushed back into you as he chased his own orgasm. The drag of his cock made you feel delirious at the speed in which he was fucking you back into the mattress.

“Fucking hell. You’re so good G! Yes! Yes! Yes!”  You screamed into the mattress, really not caring that your mutual best friend was on the other side of the wall.

His name fell from your lips like a chant. You hadn’t been fucked this good in forever, if at all and the fact it was your Georgie made your head spin.

“Come on baby. One more and I’ll give it to you.” He whispered in your ear, kissing the back of your shoulder before pulling you back on to his cock at rapid speed and sending you hurtling towards your fourth orgasm of the night (well morning) and George to fill you up with a satisfied groan.

Pulling out; your gentle giant rolled over, the pair of you catching your breath after fucking for a good hour. Rolling your head to the side to take him in, you pressed a kiss to the top of his shoulder with a chuckle. “Happy Birthday G!” 

The now blonde let out a loud laugh as the pair of you snuggled into each other’s arms, like you would normally do under any other circumstances as George pressed a kiss to the side of your face. The temporary bliss shielding you both from the circumstances you’d have to face in the morning.

When you did manage to wake up the next morning, George was still fast asleep but his alarm clock read 10:12 and you knew you’d have to get up to tidy the flat because Matty certainly wouldn’t. As you looked around George’s room, you scrambled to find anything to hide your dignity as you moved around to clean up. As you pulled the shirt George was wearing the night before over your bare body, you didn’t have chance to register the other voices on the other side of the bedroom door.

“Where is she? She’s not answering her phone? She’s not in her room either.”

Matty didn’t answer Ross’s question, just grumbled into his arms before flinging himself down onto the dining room table dramatically.

“What’s the matter with you? You look like shit Healy!” Hann shoved his shoulder with a laugh as he threw himself on the sofa.

“Well you’d look like shit if you didn’t get any sleep cause you could hear George fucking at all hours of the night too.” Matty snapped at the two of them.

“Who was he shagging? I thought he wasn’t seeing that blonde anymore?”

Unfortunately for you, this was when you decided to make your grand appearance. Walking out of George’s room in nothing but his shirt and your knickers from the night before. The three of them silent as they took in your appearance.

Adam’s jaw slack as he looked on in shock as everything clicked into place before his very eyes.

Matty looked pained as he ran a hand through his curls before pushing himself up off the dining room table and shuffling into the kitchen, silently flicking the kettle on.

Ross looked angry. You could see it simmering in his eyes. The vein on his neck pulsing as he starred you down.

“I’ve been trying to ring you. Why were you in George’s room? ”

“I’ve been asleep. I’m here now aren’t I? Everything alright?” You brushed past him, trying to avoid talking about the inevitable. You hated when Ross was angry.

“Why do you have George’s shirt on?”

The two of you competed in a stare off. The both of you silent. Neither of you making the next move. If there was one thing you MacDonald siblings were, it was stubborn. Adam was watching on in anticipation. The only noise to be heard was Matty shuffling around the kitchen in the background. Your brother asked you again. Why was he asking you questions he didn’t want to know the answers to.

“Don’t make me say it bro.”  You sighed; annoyance flashing across his features.

“You slept with my best friend?”  Ross immediately started raising his voice. He already knew the answer, he didn’t need your confirmation. Not that he waited for it because he was already storming towards George’s room and right on queue, the door swung open to George just in his boxers.

“Ross. Stop!”  Your voice loud and going ignored.

“YOU SLEPT WITH MY SISTER?!”  

Ross was seething. Hann was immediately by your side ready to intervene. Matty still off and away from the drama (which was very unlike him) that was about to unfold. He was unlawfully quiet but you couldn’t think about that when Ross was squaring off with George in the doorway to your rooms. The shouting sounded like you were under water as you zoned it out. This was a disaster. It was only when Hann touching your arm, whispering if they should intervene or not that brought you back to reality and had you storming right in between the two giants.

Pushing your way in between them. You stood with your back against George’s chest, a hand on your brothers and looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Ross. Please. Fighting George isn’t going to solve anything.”

“You slept. With my sister. What about fucking bro code?! Not cool dude!”

“It was me.” You shouted over the top of his booming voice, all four of them turning to look at you as you very rarely raised your voice. “It was me. I initiated it. So if you’re going to be mad at someone, shout at me because it’s my fault.”

“Babe you don’t have to defend me.” George touched your shoulder gently. “I know, we shouldn’t have done it.”

“Don’t touch her!” Ross zoned in on George’s hands upon your shoulders. He quickly lifted them up in surrender.

“George, we’re both consenting adults.” You addressed him before turning back to your brother. “I’m sorry but if you’re going to sulk about it, blame me because I started it. Ross you know I love you more than anything in this world but you can’t hate everyone that goes near me.”  You reached for his hand to give it a squeeze. “It was literally a one night stand. Promise it won’t happen again.”

Ross tried to pull his hand out of yours at your words, the vein in his neck twitching at the fucked up thought of his little sister casually sleeping around. “I’m not fucking happy about it. Fucking bro code dude.” He threw his hands up dramatically before turning towards the door. “I’m going for some fresh air.” 

Ross quickly yanked open the front door, Hann hot on his tail, muttering something about checking on him which left you with Matty and George. The three of you standing in silence for a moment before George popped a kiss on top of your head and mumbling about a cig and heading out the back.

Matty disappeared again into the kitchen as you plonked yourself down at the dining room table with a groan. The ticking of the clock the only thing to be heard as the two of you were now the only ones left in your tiny flat. Sitting down next to you, Matty didn’t say anything. Just pushed a mug of coffee towards you and sipping his own.

“You don’t hate me do you? You haven’t said anything all morning.”

Matty took a sip of his coffee, a look of contemplation on his face as his eyes flitted towards you. The silence deafening and the thought of him being upset with you made your heart ache.

“You never offered me that on my birthday.”

You blinked rapidly as you stared at him. That was it. That’s what he chose to say.

Matty tried to say it with a joking lilt to his words. A smirk hiding behind his mug of coffee as you took in his words. But he knew deep down that there was a seriousness to it. It was true, you’ve never done anything with him other than when you kissed at his 18th, on his birthday or otherwise. Apart from one drunken weekend about two weeks later. He wasn’t sure why the thought made his heart pang. But it did. You opened your mouth to respond, quickly shutting it again as a flush rushed to your cheeks as you remembered the night in his garden five birthdays ago.

You let out a shaky laugh, not knowing what to say, shoving his shoulder playfully as you settled back into your chair, steaming coffee ready to be drunk.

“I don’t, you know.” 

You turned you head to curly haired man beside you confused at what he was saying. 

“I could never hate you.”

2014

You weren’t exactly sure where you were. What state you were in. What time it was or how much you and the band had to drink or what drugs Matty had taken tonight but you were fucking exhausted. You had been following your brother and your best friends around the world for the best part of just over a year, ‘acting’ like their personal assistant. 

You were essentially a glorified baby sitter for these four man children. You wouldn’t change it for the world though, you got to travel the world with your best friends and take cool photography in the cool cities you visited but it was all catching up to you. All whilst they were busy being rockstars, some more than others but that was a different story.

You wanted nothing more than to be in the dingy little flat you shared with Matty and George in Manchester, catching up on washing, going down to your local Sainsbury’s and doing the weekly shop. Anything that didn’t require going to bed post 3am.

But you were currently in a club in Atlanta or was it Nashville? You didn’t know but what you did know was that you were bloody tired and the thought of travelling on the tour bus to the next state with a hangover was genuinely about to send you into a downward spiral if you didn’t get yourself back to the hotel asap.

Tucked neatly underneath Hann’s arm, his arm loosely hanging over your shoulder as you rested your head upon his shoulder, you prayed for your brother to round up the other two quicker than he was because you were actually asleep standing up at this point. You didn’t think it was possible to be asleep with your eyes open but you were positive at this precise moment in time it was currently happening.

Ross finally reappeared with George in tow but there was no Matty trailing behind the two of them. You groaned loudly as you clapped eyes on the two of them. Ross looked defeated, tiredness set his eyes too. George smirked when he heard your groans.

“Not the usual type of groans you make when you see me baby.”

“I’ll punch you so hard before Ross even gets the chance to if you don’t shut the fuck up Daniel's. Where’s Healy?”  You huffed, scowling at the boy in front of you.

“Mumbled something incoherent before refusing to leave.” Your brother grumbled.

“Give me two minutes.” You sent Hann a soft smile, before removing yourself from the bubble the two of you’d created at the end of the bar before pushing your way through all the sweaty bodies until you found him trying to chat up some blonde model type near the DJ booth.

Gently placing your hand around his bicep to get his attention, his curls whipped in your direction to see who was touching him. The first thing you noticed apart from the bright grin he was now sporting were his dilated pupils. So he had taken coke again, brilliant. 

The sigh that left you so deeply rooted, you’re surprised he didn’t pick up on it. You hated the way it made him feel after the high was over.

“Hi darling! Hasn’t tonight been amazing? Wait where are the others? Can you believe your brother tried to make me to go back to the hotel? How sick was the gig tonight? Do you want to dance? Hey let me introduce you to…” He spoke at a hundred miles a hour as he spewed out utter nonsense, turning to realise the blonde he was chatting up was long gone.

You watched Matty’s shoulders sag, sad eyes now back on your own. “You fancy coming back with me? I’m dead on my feet and don’t really fancy nursing this inevitable hangover whilst being stuck on the tour bus for over six hours with you lot without at least four hours of decent sleep.”

“But I don’t want to go home yet.” He pouted.

“You come with me now, I’ll let you stay in my bunk tomorrow and I won’t complain about how clingy you are. Promise!”

“Like a sleepover?!”  Matty’s face lit up again.

“If you like, yeah!” You laughed at his childlike enthusiasm.

“Come on then, let’s go right now!” He started to drag you through the crowds. “I’m sharing with Ross tonight. I think he’d rather kill himself than watch you throw yourself at me!” 

“I don’t throw myself at you.” You laughed at the frown he was pulling at you.

“It’s been known to happen Healy! I don’t mind though. My bunk tomorrow. Pinky promise.”

“Tomorrow.”  Matty sent you a soft smile; his pinky looping around your own before you started to tug him back towards the boys. “I just want to clarify, I don’t throw myself at you I just like lying on your tits is all!” He said, pulling a laugh out of you as you approached the rest of the band. Your brother already leading the troops out the club as he saw your approach, eager to get out of there and into bed.

You had currently been on the road from Atlanta to Raleigh, North Carolina for the past two hours and the hangover was showing no signs of disappearing. You had already watched half a season of The Office with Hann and had taken a half arsed nap with Ross but it was hard trying to sleep in the lounge, when your head was knocking off his shoulder every time the bus hit a pot hole.

Not to mention; if Matty made one more fucking sound, you were absolutely positive one of you was going to throw him out the window. It was a toss up between you and Hann, whoever got to him first I suppose. But he was getting on your last nerve. He was annoying at the best of times but there was something about his come down today that was irritating you to no fucking end. He so much as breathed too loudly and it was sending you spiralling into deep pit of annoyance.

You and the band were up back in the lounge area, some Adam Sandler movie playing quietly in the back ground that you were pretty sure none of them were even paying attention to. When Matty threw his phone across the bus, swearing something incoherent under his breath and it was the last straw.

Standing up abruptly, you managed to startle both Ross and Hann at the speed in which you moved. Pulling down George’s hoodie that you had stolen, so it covered more of your ass over the pair of gym shorts you had on. You turned back towards your brother and Adam, irritation etched across your features, scowling at Matty as you eyed him out of your peripheral, as he moped about next to George. 

Just the image of him, made you want to roll your eyes.

“I’m going to my bunk before I fucking throttle him!”  

You sent them both a sarcastic smile before storming off to your bunk. You can’t have been there ten minutes before your peace was interrupted by Matty who was peering around the curtain and asking if he can join you. You let out a big sigh before silently nodding your head as he lumbered on into the small space.

Immediately wrapping his arms around your waist; his head found home upon your chest just like it always did when he wanted a cuddle. Your hand that was wrapped around him made its way up to his head, where it settled in his curls, finger tips running across his scalp. The sound of his soft sighs automatically calming down the irritation that had been bubbling inside you since he had awoken this morning.

You weren’t entirely sure how long you had been lying there in silence. You only broke the silence when the coldness of Matty’s fingertips slipped underneath your hoodie to touch the warmth of your skin. His thumb rubbing circles across the softness of your hips as he snuggled further into your tits as one of his legs started pushing its way in between your own as he got comfy.

“Matty?” Your voice gentle as you tried to get his attention.

“You said you wouldn’t complain.” His voice muffled as he spoke into your covered breasts.

“Your fingers are fucking freezing that’s all.” Your chest vibrated with laughter.

“Sorry sweetheart” Matty moved the slightest bit, to kiss the underside of your chin before snuggling back into the warmth of your hoodie.

“I don’t mean to, you know?”  He whispered softly.

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t mean to make you angry.” 

His voice was barely above a whisper, that you nearly missed it.

“I’m not angry. Why would you think I’m angry at you?”

“You looked like you’d rather die than be anywhere near me before.” The hand that was weaving through his curls stopped. “I hated it. Hated that you looked at me like that. Made me feel even more shit than I already do.”

“Healy look at me.” Matty didn’t move a muscle, head still tucked underneath your chin, no effort in moving at all at your words.

“Babe. Look at me.” Your voice more stern, wiggling away from his grip so you could look down at him properly. “I could never hate you. Ever.” Your eyes flitted across his features, hardened by the late nights on tour and the hardcore partying. “I hate what that stuff does to you. I would never stop you from having fun but when you do that stuff, I hate how it makes you hate yourself the next day. I don’t want you doing something you’re going to regret because believe it or not Healy. I’m quite fond of you and I don’t think my heart could take it if something happened to you. Neither would my brother’s or Hann’s or George’s. We love you a stupid amount you know.”

Matty blinked at you as he took in your words, his brown eyes glossing over before shoving his face into you neck, the grip around your waist becoming impossibly tighter. Your body shaking as his vibrated against yours, soft sobs leaving him as he chanted; “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Over and over again.

All you could do was hold him closer and reassure him, that he had nothing to be sorry for and you were just looking out for him because anything else, you were afraid it might break you and you’d cry too. As your best friend was breaking his heart and wetting the hoodie you were wearing.

“Don’t apologise for having fun. I just want you to be careful. All I ever want is for you to be okay and sometimes what you do with all those people you don’t know isn’t good for you sweetheart.”

You squeezed him tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. As he mumbled how “I’ll be better, I promise” into your neck, pressing multiple kisses in quick succession to just under the right side of your jaw before settling back into silence where the two of stay for some time.

The soft regular movement of Matty’s thumb rubbing circles on your hip stopped, his hand significantly less colder than they were before he had them up your hoodie, moved across the expanse of your lower back and rolling you over so you were now draped over him instead and tucked into his side. 

“You know sometimes I feel the only time I might get better is when we are together. You ever feel like that?”

It was now your turn to nod silently, a soft hum leaving your mouth as you pressed a quick kiss into his skin as you settled into a slumber.

2017

You had been pottering about your flat most of the morning, doing a deep clean of the place before you were supposed to be heading to meet the boys for Sunday dinner. Your boyfriend of nearly a year Michael, once again opting out of spending time with you and your family, claiming he had better things to be doing that sitting about and listening to the boys talk about what they had been getting up to in the studio again.

Personally you think it was because George let slip last time Michael could actually be bothered to join you all for a drink, that he had slept with you in a drunken ramble, much to the dismay of your boyfriend, your brother and yourself. And Michael didn’t take too fondly to the fact you were still close with George after the confession.

You were in the middle of folding the last bit of the washing that you had dumped on your bed when your phone pinged with a text from Hann.

‘Did you get a letter in the post this week? x’

‘I get a lot of stuff in the post Ads! Off who? x’

‘Matty x’

The moment you saw his name, your heart got stuck in your throat. None of you had heard from him since he he had left, something to do with his recovery. So the thought of contact from him had you dropping your phone on the bed and rushing from your room, shouting at Michael about the post you had received this week. Only receiving a mumble from him about the fire place; had you dashing to the living room, where you rifled through the post sat on top of the mantelpiece. 

There slotted in between this months Rolling Stone subscription and a local take away menu was a white envelope addressed to you. 

A Barbados post mark sitting in the top right corner.

Dropping the rest of the mail on the coffee table, you rushed back to your bedroom, locking the door immediately before sitting at the edge of your bed and taking in Matty’s scrawl of a penmanship. Running your fingers over the ink; your mind flashed back to that day. 

The day you realised he wasn’t okay. 

How completely out of it he was as you watched him at their last festival gig of the iliwys tour cycle. How utterly miserable he looked as he threw himself about the stage, looking just the shadow of the man you knew and loved.

You knew something wasn’t right as you watched from the side of stage with their manager Jamie. George ever the professional, had even broke his concentration bubble to catch your eye several times during their festival set, worry set in his features. 

The way your gentle giant walked straight up to you, stopped in front of you and just by the look in your eyes. Your face never one to hide your emotions. George wrapped his arm around you and without a single word, the pair of you knew you had to speak to the other boys about it. You needed to talk to him.

The night of the intervention. The way he screamed and shouted at you all. He admitted to using but he didn’t do it quietly. The way Ross stepped in front of you in defence when he swore at you. Hann’s hand wrapped tightly around your own, George’s hand squeezing your shoulder in support as your brown eyes glossed over as you took in the man in front of you. He wasn’t your Matty and you hated looking at him like this. 

You didn’t want to look at him at all and it broke your heart.

Slipping your finger into the envelope you finally tore it open, slipping out several pages of paper. You weren’t sure how long you were holding them before you actually unfolded them but it felt like a lifetime of contemplating before you managed to finally take a deep breath and compose yourself enough to read his words.

‘Darling,

As part of my recovery, I’ve been tasked to write a letter to everyone I’ve hurt and yours is the last one I’ve got to write. Not because you mean the least to me. Quite the opposite. Yours has been the hardest to write. Harder than Gabby. My Mam, Dad & Louis & the boys because you mean the absolute world to me. 

This is actually the third time I’ve attempted to write this. Admitting that I’ve hurt you is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. You know what I’m like, I’m a stubborn twat at the best of times but I needed to do this because you deserve this apology probably the most.

You’ve never once judged me and the fucked up things I do when I’m on one. Since we were kids you’ve stuck by my side, defended me when I really didn’t deserve it and loved me endlessly from the sidelines and I’ve definitely not deserved your love but you gave me it anyway.

Do you remember that time we were on tour in 2014 and I was fucked up on coke for god knows how many days in a row and you couldn’t even be in the same room as me that day on the bus when I was on that god awful come down on the way to North Carolina?

Yet you still didn’t say no when I selfishly came crawling to your bunk to interrupt your peace and quiet with my tail between my legs, asking to come lie with you. You could have told me to piss off but you didn’t, you let me squish myself into your bunk and your arms and let me sleep off my hangover in your arms without complaining once. I would have complained but you didn’t, you let me and my cold hands snake their way into your personal space like I hadn’t gotten on your last nerve just ten minutes prior. 

I’m quite a selfish person. You my darling are the most selfless person I know and I don’t deserve the good grace you’ve given me time and time again. Especially seeing as I dragged you along for the ride and then you’ve had to babysit me because I can’t control myself when it comes to drugs and showing off because I want everyone to like me.

You could have taken the tough love route, told me I’m a big fuck up and judged me for my drug use and tried to get me to stop (which probably would have have had the opposite effect out of defiance) but you didn’t. You silently kept an eye on me and made sure I didn’t end up killing myself. Until I took it too far.

I’ve seen you look at me with distaste over the years. Yet nothing compares to the way you looked at me that day you guys staged your intervention. I didn’t think you guys had noticed. I thought me and Miss H had this great big secret going on and I didn’t want to let any of you guys in on it because it would ruin what we had.

Yet you know me better than anyone. You and George both just knew that day. Of course you did. You’re my best friends. But you don’t know how happy I am the four of you staged that intervention and told me I needed to get my shit together.

When I think about the way I lashed out at you. The way your big brown eyes that usually sparkle with mischief when we’re with each other, glossed over as you just stood and took it and didn’t even raise your voice at me once. I can feel the lump in my throat tighten as I write this.

I deserved it you know. I deserved whatever fury was bubbling inside you because I was a class A cunt that day! I’m truly surprised Ross didn’t knock my head off and I wouldn’t have blamed him either if he had done!

I’m just so glad you did something because the thought of losing every single one of you shatters my soul so much, I would cease to exist without you.

I could sit here and write down the list of all things I’m sorry for but physically we don’t have the time or enough paper! But you should know that I am.

I’m sorry. 

For everything.

I’m doing okay. The best I’ve been in a long time. The only way being here might get better is if you were here too.

I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I’m begging for it because the thought of you hating me and not being able to trust me anymore kills me.

You really an angel on this earth.

I don’t deserve you.

I love you.

Yours Matthew x

p.s I cannot wait to be reunited with your tits! I’ve missed them!

You let out a chortled laugh as you read through the last line of the letter. Your hands quickly making their way to your face as you wiped the tears that were streaming from your face. The cuffs of your hoodie wet from where you’ve tried to stop the flow of tears. Pressing the letter to your chest, you took a few deep breaths to try compose yourself before you left the confinements of your bedroom.

Hurriedly shoving the letter into your handbag, so there was no chance Michael could stumble across your letter. He didn’t like Matty as it was, you didn’t want to give him ammunition to say anything. You grabbed your car keys and rushed out of the house without a word to your boyfriend and heading straight to Hann���s.

2020

You had broken up with Michael.

The red flags should have been there from the start really. He always had less than nice words to say about you and your relationships with the boys. He didn’t have a lot of nice things to say in general but you were blinded by love and the man he was when you first met that you didn’t see the red flags being waved right in front of your face until your heart (and self confidence) were already broken.

Your brother didn’t like Michael, he thought there was something off about him from the off but you put it down to Ross doing his job as your big brother but his opinion didn’t waver once in the four years you were together. George never liked how possessive he was and the fact he became even more so and tried to stop you from speaking to him after he found out about your night together. Which just fyi happened three years prior to meeting him, so he (everyone) was flabbergasted as to why he was so bothered! Hann. Your sweet angel of a bestie had even voiced how he didn’t like him and he was never one to be rude which should have also been a clue you were dating a dickhead.

Then there was Matty. Matty hated him. The feelings were mutual. Michael had told you plenty of times over your four years together that he hated your best friend but he would never tell you why. Matty told you it was because ‘he was a twat who didn’t deserve you’. You were obliged to agree because that mother fucker cheated on you!

Multiple women across the last two years of your relationship. 

To say you were stunned was an understatement yet it somehow made sense and fell into place so easily when you thought about it all. Yet that didn’t make it hurt any less. But a friend of yours sending you the evidence whilst you were on the last night of the UK tour was the final nail in the coffin that was your shitty relationship with him.

You weren’t sure who wanted to kill him more. Your brother? Matty? Or George? The three of them were raging amongst one another at their after party which should have been a celebration whilst Hann sat with his arms wrapped around you as you cried to him and Carly. You didn’t think anything would make you feel better apart from getting obliterated with your favourite people and forgetting about Michael and the impending doom that was about to be bestowed upon the entire world.

Matty was your saving grace.

Asked you to move in, without even hesitating. Naturally you said yes, sitting in your flat all by yourself whilst you cried over your douchebag of an ex during lockdown did not sound appealing to you. It was giving ‘Emma Pilssbury crying to Celine Dion in her car from Glee’ and you weren’t quite ready to hit that stage of your breakup depression just yet.

Two weeks turned into two months and then four months of lockdown but quite frankly you had never been happier. Living with Matty again, surprisingly was just as good the second time round if not easier. Except this time you weren’t poor, your kitchen roof wasn’t leaking and there was a 95% less drug taking which made your life a whole lot less stressful.

It was just easy with him. At some point whilst the world stood still, Matty and Tahliah broke up and then it really just was you two; doing your washing, fighting over who’s turn it was to use their club card during the weekly shop at Tesco and raising his (both of your’s) new dog, Mayhem.

The two of you had been getting ready to move into a studio tomorrow with George after four months of just the two of you playing house, the pair of them just itching to get back to work. You were aware that Matty had been writing already but you knew it would be full steam now Notes had been released and you wanted to make use of the time you had left just the two of you.

Only because you knew as soon as you got your hands on George. That was it! Not a chance Matty was getting any attention. You had missed your big friendly giant more than anything and you knew from your FaceTime with him last night whilst you couldn’t sleep that he was more than excited to see you too.

All three of you were sunbathing in the garden. Mayhem by your side as the two of you soaked up some much needed sun. The heatwave the UK was currently in the middle of was doing wonders for your skin. You had been lying in silence for the past thirty minutes, a book covering your face to block out the sun as you tried to read. Matty’s head in your lap as you presumed he was napping when you suddenly felt him turn over in your lap, now on his side and looking up at you.

Lifting the book ever so slightly, so you could peek underneath at him, you cocked an eyebrow as he watched you with a gentle gaze. “Yes?” Your tone rich with sarcasm as you stared back at him. “Anything actually going through that pretty head of yours Healy? What you thinking about?”

“Us.”

“Us?” You laughed. “What about us?”

“You remember my eighteenth birthday?”  He asked; peering up at you with a soft smile.

“The party?” Matty nodded. “I remember Ross stopping me from getting with Max! Remember him? I was gutted!”  You laughed. “Why?”

“You know that’s not what I meant?” Matty frowned slightly as he pouted at you.

“Of course I do.” You put your book down, your hands automatically reaching for what was left of his curls,“What about it?”

“You ever think about it?”

“Sometimes. Think we’ve done a fantastic job at keeping it from my brother! Especially with your big gob!”  You smiled down at him as you ran your hand through his curls gently.

“Funny!”  He sent a glare your way, causing you to laugh loudly at his attempt to be intimidating. 

“What’s got you thinking about that kiss from a million years ago anyway?”

“Wanking material.” He somehow managed to say without cracking smile.

It was your turn to shoot him a glare at his crudeness. It wasn’t long though until he was grinning up at you from his place in your lap. You pushed his head away from you in fake annoyance. God you couldn’t stand him sometimes!

“Ohh come on darling. I hear you sometimes! We all do it, you’ve got to think of something!” Matty tried to lighten the mood.

“Yeah I think about G’s 23rd birthday.” You smirked. Your vibrator was good but it wasn’t George. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a good orgasm and thinking it might have been before Michael makes you want to cry. Your confession/kind of a joke caused the grin to fall from his face and you almost felt bad, knowing he doesn’t want to hear about the incredible night you had with George because if anyone asked him, he absolutely did not want to relive it.

“I’m joking!” Your hand reached for his curls again. “Seriously though, what’s got you reminiscing about it. It’s been a long time.”

“Just thinking about how much I love you is all.” His confession made you stop. “What would have happened if we’d said fuck it and we ended up together.”

“I don’t think Ross would have been too happy. You saw how mad he got about G!”  You laughed nervously as you thought about stopping your brother from knocking his band mate out.

“He’d have gotten over it.” Matty was now leaning up on his arms, leaning forward to press a light kiss to your bikini clad torso before pressing several kisses in quick succession up your stomach until he was hovering over your chest and looking down at your face. “If we were happy, he’d have been happy. You know he would have been.”

His actions made you hold your breath. It being strangely intimate and probably the most intimate you’d been since you were teenagers. You wondered if he was actually going to kiss you again but he just looked down at you fondly.

“You know I’d do anything for you right?”  You nodded. “You’re one of the only people who makes me truly happy.  I’d literally go too far just you have you near. I’d go blind just to see you!”

You rolled your eyes at the dramatics of his statement but the sweet sentiment made you smile, you reached up to hold the side of his face in your hands. Your thumb sweeping over the apple of his left cheek. The pair of you just basking in the warmth of the sun and each other. Unsure how long you hadn’t said anything, Matty broke the silence in the most Matty way.

“Literally anything you need. I’ve got you for life sweetheart. A cuppa? A joint? An orgasm? I’m your man!” 

A chortle left your mouth as he cheekily beamed down at you, waiting for what he knew would be a somewhat sarcastic response. He didn’t realise he’d really set himself up for what you were about to say.

“Don’t worry I’m good. I’m seeing G tomorrow!”

The way his eyes narrowed at you made you cackle even louder as he finally jumped up off you, to walk back inside without another word. “I’m sorry!”  You laughed. “I promise not to shag George when I see him. I’m good with my vibrator I promise!”  You manage to sputter out through your laughter. “Stick the kettle on whilst you’re in there love.”  You shouted after him.

Matty threw you the middle finger over his shoulder which made you laugh even more as he went though the back door, Mayhem hot on his heels; knowing fine well he was going to put the kettle on and make you a brew just how you liked it because for as long as he can remember he’s never been able to say no to you and he didn’t think he’d ever will.

2023

The 1975 in Show and Concert was possibly your favourite tour that you’d been apart of with the boys. There was an accumulative of factors; the fact you weren’t the only girl on tour this time round, Carly had joined Adam with their son and Charli had come to as many shows as her own schedule permitted. You also had a little part to play at Matthew’s request (obviously!) donned in a white lab coat, you brought Matty a hot honey and lemon on stage every night and pottered about with the rest of the crew, making sure your brother and the rest of the band were all good before slipping off to watch the rest of the show from backstage.

Or it could have been that you and Matty were closer than ever. Ever since lockdown and the pair of you had been living together, everything seemed so simple that since restrictions were lifted, you just carried on living together. I think when George removed the last box of things from your old flat to take to Matty’s did it for him, that he just shook his head with a laugh. 

“You guys really are an old married couple!” He chuckled; slamming the boot close and jumping in the car before you could get a word in edgeways.

He wasn’t wrong, you guys did essentially everything together apart from have sex. Not that you hadn’t thought about it. Somewhere between moving into the studio with him and George and then your brother and Hann joining them to start recording their fifth studio album. You hadn’t shagged anyone in over a year and there was only so many times you could use your vibrator before you got bored and there wasn’t a cat’s chance in hell you were ordering a new toy to the studio because Matty didn’t have boundaries and absolutely would have opened it before you could even get the chance to get your hands on it.

You had also promised after day one; after one too many jokes and essentially mounting George at any given moment just to have him near you that you wouldn’t sleep with him. Even though a repeat of his birthday from seven years prior was literally so so temping to you! So what the hell were you going to do? The thought of dating apps made you want to vomit and hanging about bars really didn’t seem that appealing.

But Matty being Matty; was being overly affectionate one night after one too many glasses of red after a show, had the two of you giggling like teenagers and wondering if the two of you had gotten better at kissing since Matty’s 18th. Curiosity getting the better of the both of you, had you surging towards one another in a flurry of horniness after the kiss, was how you found yourself straddling his lap and snogging him like your life depended on it! Until you physically had to pull away to get your breath back and a rush of sense flashed through your brain. The two of you went to bed separately.

Neither of you spoke about it again.

Nor did you ever think about how the two of you were always drawn to each other no matter what shit storm was going on around you until now. You were just tying up the end of the UK leg of the tour, you and the band were in Ireland and Jamie had just told you that *The Scum* were running a horrendous article about Matty. This had in turn resulted in an argument after their penultimate show between the boys. 

You knew he did things in the heat of the moment whilst he’s on stage or says shit without thinking and it comes to bite him in the arse almost every time but he’d never do what they’re accusing him of on purpose.

But seeing your brother hurt by Matty’s stupid actions; the repercussions for not just himself but for the rest of the band, your brother, yourself just by association. It was enough for you to step in, in defence of your brother. He came before everyone else, every single time.

This you didn’t realise; had as big of an effect until you were stood frozen on stage in front of your brother, Matty in between you and Ross. Apologising to him, crying in front of thousands of people. How Ross hadn’t broke the facade and took him in his arms was beyond you because your brother’s face was currently blurry to you and he was stood a foot in front of you. Tears filled your brown eyes and were threatening to spill as Matty let his vulnerable side show in front of everyone. Something he never does.

You had done so well until he apologised once more; removing his hand from Ross’s arm and reaching behind him blindly to grab on to you. The tears automatically fell; the action enough to make Ross twitch in an ache to comfort you. Something he couldn’t do until the band had come off stage at the end of consumption.

After the final song of tour; the boys usually head on out for the after party. Tonight you had Matty back at the hotel in your room on his knees and begging for you. 

Begging for you to not leave him. Begging for you not to move out. Begging for you to stay by his side. Begging for you to still love him.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked down at the man in front of you; on his knees as his hands grasped at your legs, pulling you close as he hugged you as physically close as possible as he sobbed against your legs. Instinctively you reached for his curls, running your fingers through them softly.

“Baby. Look at me.” The softness of his curls tickled your thighs as he stayed pressed against you. “Matthew. Darling look at me.” 

You managed to loosen his grip enough to slide down on to your knees in front of him, taking a hold of his face in your hands as you eyes flitted across his face, smiling softly at him as he tried to calm himself down.

“I can’t lose you. I can’t lose any of you.” He shook his head, curls flying in front of his face. “But I can’t lose you darling. I can’t.”

“Matthew. Look at me. Why do you think you’re going to lose me? You’re never going to lose me. You’re kinda stuck with me!” You laughed. “And even if I decided to fuck off, my brother being your bassist kind of means I’m stuck with you anyway.” The grip on his face got tighter as his hands reached up to hold on to your wrists.

“But last night…”

“Ross and I just want you to use your brain sometimes before you do stupid shit! You’ve not lost either of us. I promise.”

“Promise?”

Your heart jumped into your throat at the swell of tears in his eyes and his lip quiver.

“Life. That’s how long you’ve got me for Healy. Promise.” As soon as you stopped speaking; Matty threw himself at you, arms around your neck and squeezing you so tightly you nearly stopped breathing. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you” Being repeated in your ear over and over as you squeezed him back, pressing your lips to the side of his face in consecutive kisses until he abruptly pulled away. Eyes red and looking at you so softly you thought he was going to cry again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. You know I do.” You smiled at him warmly.

“No. It’s always been you.” He said as he reached for your hands and it felt like you had been hit in the chest. The sting of tears trickling up your face and threatening to fill your eyes as you silently took him in. You went to open your mouth but nothing came out.

“I know I always talk too much but just listen to me. I love you. Since we were kids I reckon, I was just too chicken to ever do anything.  When you kissed me on my 18th birthday. When you saw I needed help,  you saved my life sending me to rehab. Every day, I thought about getting home to you.  It’s what got me through every day. You make me a better man darling. When you take my shit when I don’t deserve it. When you make me a brew in the morning just how I like it. When you roll me a joint when you realise I’m too tense and in my head without me even having to ask. When you tell me to shut the fuck up before a situation escalates. When we go to big Tesco and walk the dog or do all the washing together. I fucking live for that shit because it’s with you. Fuck I’ve been writing songs about you for the past decade! You are intertwined with every era of this band sweetheart. I mean 60% of the last album is about you! ” He chuckled softly.

“What?” Managed to escape you in a gasp.

“Come on sweetheart. Some of this music has literally been out for ten years!”

“I - Just never - Why have you never said anything before now?” Your voice horse with frustration.

“I love your brother too much. But thinking I’d lost the two of you, just made me think fuck it. You deserve to know. You need to know.” Matty shrugged casually.

“That’s stupid.” Your deadpan tone, stunning him silent.

“Sorry?”

“Wasn’t it you that said to me that if Ross knew I was happy. That we were happy he wouldn’t care. He’d have gotten over it? And you’ve just subliminally been telling me you love me through music this entire time?”

“Yes?” 

You cocked an eyebrow at his hesitation, the questioning tone as your eyes flit across his handsome features. Cheeks tinged with pink due to his tears, his chest falling up and down rapidly at his confession as he awaited you answer. You still didn’t say anything, thinking about how to respond until you found the perfect response.

Surging forward you pushed your lips against Matty’s. Hands reaching for the curls you loved so much. Waiting for him to reciprocate felt like a life time but your Matthew was well equipped in the art of kissing you back so realistically it was 0.2 seconds after he had gotten over the shock.

You kissed him over and over again, not wanting to stop the feeling of how your lips moved against his, how his tongue felt against yours. You felt like you were on fire, he was intoxicating. He always was but fuck was he more than ever. Finally finding the strength to untangle yourself from him, chests heaving as you both got oxygen back in your lungs you said the words, the way he’d been wishing to hear for the past sixteen years.

“I love you too.”

When he was finally seen in public two days later on the eve of their Gorilla gig in Manchester. The fans noticed Matty was in higher spirits than he had been two days prior when his breakdown was caught on camera. You had been nervous to tell your brother but Ross claimed he already knew Matty was in love with you, he was just waiting to see if he’d actually grow some balls or not! Then he hugged you so tightly and whispered he was happy for the both of you, which in turn had you and Matty crying backstage in their green room as you found yourself in a 1975 sandwich! 

You don’t think you had seen Matty look so happy on stage in a long time. He loved touring but it was gruelling but seeing him on stage in this tiny venue with his best friends and his girl watching and waiting for him side stage. He couldn’t stop beaming. The fans noticed, the comments already flying in online about him. They increased tenfold when he jumped offstage, not waiting the ten second walk backstage before kissing you like his life depended on it.

The blurry picture of Matty holding your jaw in his hands as he kissed you in the shadows of the stage was on a 1975 update account within minutes.

Captioned: If you know you know. Finally 🖤

You were obliged to agree.

[onceamadhouse13]

Thoughts on TTPD and how it relates to Dead Poets Society and queerness

(Spoilers for DPS ahead.)

I saw DPS a long time ago and rewatched it before TTPD came out, thinking there could be a connection just by virtue of the similar titles. (This connection was, of course, confirmed with the inclusion of Ethan Hawke and Josh Charles of DPS in the Fortnight music video.) The thing is, before I rewatched DPS, I remembered that Neil Perry kills himself because he is gay. It had been a long time since I’d seen it, and that was what I remembered. While rewatching it, I kept waiting for Neil to try to kiss a boy or come out to his dad or something. But he doesn’t. No one in the film ever says ANYTHING overtly about queerness. There are references to Whitman and Tchaikovsky (both presumed to be queer). Neil wants to be an actor and gets his start playing a literal fairy (Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream). But never does he overtly express any attraction to someone of the same sex, and never does he identify himself as gay or queer. But as a teenager watching this movie, the implied queerness was so obvious to me that I later REMEMBERED THE MOVIE WRONG.

And that’s the same way that TTPD is queer. The queerness isn’t overt. It’s not obvious or clear to everyone who listens to it. But it’s there, baked in, and undeniable when you really dissect the lyrics. Queer themes of the world not accepting your love, feeling trapped, the closet, religious trauma, and feeling judged are obvious in the album. And the genius of Taylor’s lyrics is that they can be attributed to Matty Healy (A Man™️), they can be attributed to queerness and the queer experience, and, I think, they can be attributed to both of those things at the same time.

[graciegoeskrazy]

“and i do make art ty very much”

Matty Healy x Teen!Daughter!reader + lil bit of george

a/n: random thought the popped in my head. enjoy this cute lil blurb :)

As soon as you walked in the door you were expecting to follow your usual routine - burst through the door announcing your presence, grab a snack, tell your dad all the details and mundane facts about your day, then go upstairs and hide for awhile until your dad yells at you to do your homework or makes you come downstairs to get dinner. Today, however, that didn't exactly go to plan.

“I’m Home!” You said, but instead of being greeted my your dad or uncles, you were met with silence. “Hello?”

Nothing.

“Dad? George? You here?” You didn't worry and just headed up to your room deciding to shoot a text to your dad to make sure he wasn't dead. Before you could hit send though, you found your father when you walked into your room.

“Jeez! You scared me!” You yelled.

Instead of a ‘sorry’ or ‘oh my bad’ he kept a straight face when asked, “What’s this?”

It took you a second to register exactly what he was worrying about, but eventually you realized it was your journal. Like your father, you kept at least 2 journals going at the same time. You however had 3. One for your usual ‘dear diary, blah blah blah’, one for the stuff your therapist makes you write, and another for the lyrics and poems you jot down in your spare time. And that just so happened to be the one your father held in his hands.

“Something you weren’t supposed to find.” You shyly replied.

You weren't mad at your father one bit. You tell him everything anyways, it’s like there isnt even a need for a diary because he a human version of one. Filled with all the knowledge of your hopes, dreams, stupid habits, and crushes. This, however, happened to be one of the rare things you kept from your father.

He looked at the pages again, “When did you make this?”

You quickly diverted the conversation. “Why are you going through my journal!?”

“I was cleaning.” He replied.

“You never clean.” You said, looking at him quizzically.

He shrugged and smiled. “You’re right. George told me you got high the other day and I was looking for drugs.”

“Ugh! That bitch!” You said, throwing your backpack on the ground.

“But screw that- this is really good! When did you make this?”

“That one was like a year ago? I don’t know.” You said crossing your arms, suddenly feeling a bit insecure.

“Can you stop reading my private feelings and thoughts please?” You tried to grab the book out of your dad's hands but he pulled it away before you had the chance.

“Is this one about your crush on June?” He said tauntingly.

“Dad!”

“Awe! You’re in love!”

You finally grabbed the book from him and held it tight to your chest.

“Why did you never tell me about this?” he asked.

“Because I didn't want to embarrass myself. Duh.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dad, you're a Grammy-nominated musician and I’m an angsty teenager who writes about teenage love. There’s a fine line and I don't want to embarrass myself by crossing it.”

“Darling, those were good! Hell, those are fucking great!”

“Thanks?”

After an awkward silence he continued.

“You should record those-”

“No-”

“It would be really good-”

“Get out-”

“I know some peopleeee.” He said smiling.

“Get out!”

He smiled and left the room, not before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

When he got downstairs, he was greeted by George in the kitchen. “What was happening up there?”

Matty got a drink from the fridge, “My baby is a songwriter.”

“Hm?” George asked.

“She wrote lyrics, George. And they're good too.”

George looked confused. Matty continued,

“We need to get those songs she wrote and make her record them.”

“Mate, you can’t force your daughter into the business.”

“Yeah, you’re right…”

“But I’m her uncle so it’s okay if I do it.”

Matty just laughed.

[wreckedandpolemic]

Regret me matty save me please

Now, would girlie and him go to see the oasis reunion?

oh you’re both absolutely buzzing. matty finally gets you to admit that oasis are better than blur with a giggle and a kiss and a promise to buy you both tickets for a couple shows <3 but of course, because you’re you, you can’t resist throwing a jab that they must’ve started bonding again over how much they hate you.

matty shoves you lightly. oi. still pulled you, didn’t i? you scoff, brushing his curls out of his eyes. eventually. took plenty of hating your guts first. he rolls his eyes, muttering fuck you as he leans down to kiss you. you chatter idly, speculating on the set, reading out tweets that make you laugh (look, there’s already about fifty about you) and enjoying your slow morning.

you end up spinning definitely maybe to soundtrack your morning, oh-so reminiscent of your misspent youth and yet sweetly domestic in a way you wouldn’t have dared to dream in your twenties. you can’t help dreaming about going to a stadium gig with matty, being completely invisible in a heaving crowd, at a show where you could almost be teenagers again. you deserve a do-over, you think. but you can only hope oasis stay reunited long enough to give it to you lmfao