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toomuchracket · 3 months

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secret admirer (dad!ross x reader fluff)

day 1 of valentine's week by bff @abiiors!! in this one... the kids want to know how you and ross got together. cute as shit. enjoy <3

it's at dinnertime when you're first asked the question.

ross is quietly coaxing keir to finish his peas, to minimal success. eilidh swallows a mouthful of gravy-soaked mash and turns to look at you curiously. “mummy… how did you and dad meet?”

“you already know, bean,” you take a sip of your wine and smile at her. “met dad and your uncles when i helped design the stage for one of their first shows.”

ross takes a break from lecturing your son about the merits of eating your five-a-day to look at you and wink. there's a warmth in those dark eyes of his - the same one that got you hooked on him in the first place, actually - and you know he's thinking about that fateful first meeting too. “yeah, when i had to save mum, eilidh,” he chuckles. “from matty talking about his vision at a hundred miles an hour. her eyes were proper glazed over and everything, you know.”

“they still go like that when he talks to you now sometimes, mummy,” keir adds, still pushing peas around his plate. his dad and sister laugh, while your jaw falls open at the fact you've been clocked by your four year old.

he's not wrong, though.

eilidh's giggles fade into soft hums. “but how did you end up being boyfriend and girlfriend?”

ross’s eyes meet yours again. he smirks, taking a sip of his own wine. “d'you want to tell the story, love?” he asks, foot sliding up your leg under the table, flirty. “or shall i tell them how i swept you off your feet?”

“oh, is that what it was?” you tease, trapping his leg between your own.

“of course.”

you laugh. “you and i remember it differently, then. but alright,” you stretch, shuffling in your seat before looking at your kids’ anticipated little faces. “here's what happened…”

2013

“should we do something different for valentine's day?”

you turn to look incredulously at matty, exhaling your cigarette smoke. “is further context required there, or are you asking me out? because absolutely not, if so.”

“oh, charming. thank god i see you as a little sister and no more,” matty winces, taking a drag of his own cigarette before he speaks again. “i mean for the show on the 14th. we could do, like, pink lighting instead of white, or something.”

you hum. “i don't hate the idea. but i think sticking with the black and white thing is maybe a good idea for now. cohesion, recognition, establishing identity as you gear up to release the album, all that jazz, yeah?”

“good point.”

“i do like the pink, though. maybe we could do something with it in the future?”

“yeah. i'll keep it in mind. usual staging it is, then,” matty turns to face you, resting a shoulder on the brick wall. “so, given that you've theoretically rejected me…

you roll your eyes.

“... who are you seeing on valentine's day?”

“nobody. we've got a gig, remember?” you ash your cigarette glumly. “i'll be selling t-shirts with your face on them up the back of the venue all night.”

“and i love you - platonically - for that,” your friend grins. “but what about after the show?”

“after?”

“yeah.”

you ponder. “probably just going home to shower off the residual weed smell i'll inevitably take on, to be honest.”

matty laughs; his face drops when he realises you're not kidding. “oh. you're serious.”

“mhmm.”

“but,” he looks baffled. “you're twenty-three. you're cute, objectively. you're sweet. you're fun. there's really nobody you want to spend valentine's day with?”

well… your lips part of their own accord as if to speak; you quickly snap them shut before you make a sound. no. you can't tell anyone. especially matty, of all people.

apparently, though, you don't close your mouth fast enough - your friend notices, and giggles, eyes lighting up. “who is he? go on, tell me. promise i won't tell anyone, honest.”

“not a chance.”

“pleeeeeeeeeease?”

“no, matthew,” you take a final drag of your cigarette before stamping it out. “i'm never telling anyone, because it'll never go anywhere between me and him anyway, and thus i am perfectly fine just letting the crush i have fade without acting on it. i'll develop another one soon, anyway.”

no you won't. you've never fancied someone as much in your life as you fancy…

“there you are. was wondering where you'd gotten to, matty,” ross wanders round the side of the building, relief evident on his face. it seems to light up when he sees you, but that's most likely your brain playing tricks on you. “oh. hiya, love. didn't know you were in today, s'nice to see you.”

love?!

shut up. it's ross. he calls everyone that, dipshit.

you clear your throat. “hi, ross. s'nice to see you too. you look… well.”

you pray neither of the boys noticed the awkward pause while you came up with an alternative for “devastatingly attractive”, or that your voice didn't sound as small and squeaky as it sounded to you.

thankfully, neither of them mention it. ross just smiles, and all you can do is focus on not squealing at how cute his dimples are. “thanks. you look good. hair's nice like that.”

“oh,” you self-consciously touch the ponytail you hastily shoved your hat-messy hair into earlier. “thank you.”

he smiles again. “so, what are you gonna develop another of? were you talking about work?”

you say “yes” at the same time the gobshite next to you says “yeah, but then we moved onto talking about how she has no valentine's day plans but she also won't tell whoever she has a crush on that she wants to shag them because she thinks it’s unrequited.”

for fuck's sake.

sighing, you facepalm. ross blinks. “fair enough.”

“you don't think she should tell him?” matty looks aghast.

“what i think is that you should stop pestering her about it,” ross looks pointedly at matty, then turns to you. “but - and i don't want to overstep the mark here, love…”

“no, no, it's fine.”

“... you’ll never get what you really want unless you ask for it,” he finishes, a pleasant smile on his face. “what have you got to lose by doing so, anyway?”

this. our friendship. potentially my job, if i fuck it up enough.

“yeah, i suppose,” you murmur hesitantly. “i'll consider it.”

and you do - in fact, you're still considering it when you next see ross, during setup for the gig on the big day itself. he appears when you're pushing the box light into position on the tiny stage, quickly laying down his bass to run and help you, despite your protests that you've got everything under control.

seeing his arms flex as he works, though, and the way the stark white light somehow manages to warm up those dark eyes? you most definitely do not. still, you refuse to say anything to him then. or before the show, when he automatically passes you a beer so you can be included in the pre-gig cheers. or afterwards, when he risks being pounced upon by drunken fans just so he can help you pack up the merch stall, cracking jokes despite his tiredness.

it's only when you're loading the boxes of t-shirts into adam's car that you actually start to think that mentioning the crush to ross might not be a bad thing. you close the boot with a weary sigh, turning to face ross and high-five him - like you always do - with gratitude. and then he does something… strange.

he hugs you.

it's not a long hug, and definitely one of the “thanks, mate” variety, but still. it's not a common thing to happen between the two of you, ross’s arms wrapping around your shoulders and your waist and pulling you into his chest. it's warm. cosy. safe. and as soon as he lets go, you miss him.

before you get a chance to dwell on that, though, he speaks. “you coming to the pub with us now?”

“us?” your brow furrows. “who's us?”

“everyone except adam and waughy,” ross grins. “you're not the only one with no valentine's plans, love,” his face contorts into panic. “wait, fuck, i just assumed, because you said last week-”

“ross, relax, babe,” you smile, beating yourself up internally for the way the pet name just slipped out; you blame the joy that fizzed up in your stomach when he essentially admitted he's single. “i'm coming to the pub.”

he smiles again, relief evident in his eyes. “alright. good. i think we'll have a good night.”

you do, actually, despite matty monologuing the whole walk there about “you should just phone that guy you like and tell him. for the love of god, at least one of us needs to pull tonight. s'depressing if we don't”. it's actually george who manages that first, disappearing after the first round with a redhead and returning, lipstick-stained and gleefully dazed, half an hour later. matty's next, chatting up girls at the bar and collecting phone numbers by the handful, pointing out vaguely handsome men to you with “yes? no? maybe?” to no avail.

ross doesn't pull at all.

not for lack of trying from the female clientele in the pub, though - every time he leaves the table, you watch heads turn in his direction, and some bodies following. envy tinges your vision green whenever a girl approaches him, but you needn't worry; no matter how pretty or persistent or personable the girls are, ross politely chats as he waits for the drinks, bids them goodbye, and comes back to you. well, to the table. where he sits next to you.

it makes you feel good. so good, in fact, that you decide to tell him how you feel, right then and there. you take another sip of your wine - dutch courage and all - and rest your elbow on the table and your head on your hand, facing ross. “i'm glad i came out tonight.”

“so am i,” he mirrors your pose, smiling. god, you love his dimples. “it's been a good night.”

“yeah. not a bad valentine's day at all.”

ross giggles. “as good as it gets for singles,” he takes a sip of his pint, then looks at you a bit more seriously. “you spoken to that guy yet? the one you like?”

you bite down a giggle, shaking your head. “d'you think i should? ask him out?”

“if you really like him, yeah.”

“but,” you look down at the table, absentmindedly running your index finger round the rim of your glass. “what if he doesn't like me?”

“why wouldn't he?” ross's voice is soft - so are his eyes, you look up to discover. “you're great.”

“really?”

he nods. “really great.”

your heart glows. your face does the same. “thank you, ross.”

he shrugs. “i'm just telling the truth, love. now,” he grins, tapping your phone. “ask him.”

bless him.

you exhale, smiling. “alright,” you turn round to compose yourself, then look back at ross with a smile. “would you like to go for dinner with me?”

for a second, you falter as ross's brow furrows. “what, now? like a kebab- oh,” his jaw drops, and he blinks a few times. “really? it's me that you have a crush on?”

“yeah,” you bite the inside of your cheek, nervous. “is that… really bad?”

“hmm? no, no, not at all! just surprising, s'all,” ross takes your free hand in his own. he looks dazed, but he's genuinely smiling. “i had no idea you liked me like that.”

“and here i was thinking i was doing a shit job at hiding it.”

ross laughs, softly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb; warmth erupts under your skin wherever he touches. he looks at you, so tenderly you want to look away. “yes.”

your turn to be confused. “yes i was doing a shit job at hiding my crush on you? or…?”

“no, love,” ross chuckles, squeezing your hand. “yes, i'd love to go for dinner with you. tomorrow too soon?”

you feel weightless, joyous, positively giddy. but you have to stay cool, so you simply beam at him. “tomorrow's perfect.”

present day

“...so, we went for dinner - pasta, before you ask, keir - and that was it. dad said he wanted to be my boyfriend before we'd even gotten to the tiramisu,” you smile at the memory. “and then we were like that for a while, and then we got married, and then we had you two. and now, here we are.”

“that's it?” keir frowns at you, then looks up at his dad. “but you said you swept mum off her feet.”

ross snorts, ruffling his son's hair. “yeah, not literally, keeks. i just meant that she was very impressed by me.”

“i don't get it.”

“well, ask matty to explain metaphors to you when you next see him, then.”

you wince (ross laughs at that), turning to your daughter, preoccupied with petting ash the cat, who climbed onto her lap halfway through your talk. “thoughts, eils?”

“hmm,” she makes a face. “it's not a very exciting story, mum.”

“cute, though, no?”

“kind of, i guess.”

“wow, you two are hard to impress,” you sigh, turning to ross and smiling despite your kids’ boredom. “worked out well for us, though, didn't it?”

“absolutely, love. couldn't have worked out any better,” ross leans over the table to kiss you; you return it with relish.

“ewwwwwwww! gross!”

“dad, please don’t do that to mum in front of me ever again.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #dad!ross #eilidh #keir #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fluff #ross x reader #valentine75

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bigger-bluer-moon · 10 months

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i've been absolutely in love with obscura vn ( @rottenraccoons ) since i played the demo, the worldbuilding and all the ROs are so *chefs kiss* so obviously i had to draw my big ginger boyo

#obscura game #keir obscura #keir #obscura vn #rotten raccoons #visual novel #its about the asshole whos secretly a softie trope for me #also he /big/#but thats secondary #fanart

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ndhy · 9 months

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Sorry for the machine translation.

All the characters are lovely.

Both the soundtrack and the plot are great.

And I painted the interaction between Vesper and Keir.

ヽ(=^･ω･^=)

#obscura vn #vesper (mc)#fanwork #keir

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charon-cries · 3 months

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this is my character keir, he's the evil king of shadow, and he runs the cult i'm in

#bats ocs #artists on tumblr #digital art #digital artist #oc art #original art #original character art #fantasy art #my ocs #my art #vampyrbats art #oc stuff #procreate art #fantasy oc #fantasy original character #oc design #keir

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acourtofinkandpapyrus · 7 months

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My Little Shadow (Azriel X Reader)

Warnings: Toxic abusive family, arranged marriage, entitled males

This is my first fanfiction! I hope you all enjoy this fic about Azriel rescuing Y/N from their new "fiancée"

Edit! Part two out now here: Part two

I walked through the crowds, struggling not to spill my full glass of faerie wine as I forced my way through the crowd.

This was not how I had wanted my night to go.

After a huge blow out with my family, I had made a quick escape. My father was an angry man, and a powerful one. With a standing right below Keir in the hierarchy, and knowing that if Keir made even one false move, my father would step through the bloody mess and take his place.

As long as he continued to hold his current standing of course.

And that required status. He had come home talking about a great opportunity for the family, which of course meant him.

Draven had asked for my hand in marriage. Most likely because the male couldn’t find a family that would release their daughter to him, considering his horrible reputation in the way he treated women.

And that was saying a lot considering this was Hewn City.

I had completely refused, which was unheard of in our family.

I was the perfect daughter. The one who calmed him when he went into an abusive rage and looked for one of my sisters to take it out on.

So when I said no, he laughed it off, saying, “That was my first reaction too, but then you should have heard what he was offering! I never thought you’d fetch such a high price girl.”

I had been so angry, felt so helpless- It was the first time I had ever told him what I had thought of him.

Everyone had been so stunned that I had enough time to rush out the door before the bellowing started. I had made a beeline for this party, knowing my father would rather choke on his own blood before making a scene in such a public place.

Especially when the high lord was visiting tonight, his high lady was right up there with him.

Maybe I could approach the throne, plead to be set free of this damned city. But I knew better.

The citizens of Hewn City stayed in Hewn City.

Except for the beautiful Morrigan. Sometimes I was inspired by the female who had escaped the cruelty of this nightmare. But sometimes there was a spark of envy, knowing I would never have that same freedom.

“Hello, pretty thing.” The slimy voice of Draven came from behind me.

I jerked forward, spilling my wine on some dancer in the crowd. They yelped in angry surprise, but I didn’t get a chance to apologize as Draven dragged me backwards, spinning me around.

“Your father told me all about your little outburst, are you really that hot and bothered over me?” He asked, his breath reeking of alcohol.

I went to shove him away, but he only gripped me tighter.

“Let go of me Draven.” I hissed, fear rising as I realized that there was no one looking over, not one of the party goers noticed the scene unfurling in this corner.

Not like anyone would intervene anyway.

He chuckled. “I don’t think so sweetheart.” He said, his grip tightening to the point it was painful, and I forced myself not to react, but only to stare him down.

He didn’t like that.

He let go with one hand and raised it, and I instinctively flinched away. But the hit never came.

I looked up to see some sort of darkness wrapping around his wrist, keeping him from delivering that blow.

His look of rage and confusion melted into one of slight terror as a silky smooth voice spoke. “What’s going on over here?”

My head whipped around, and I strained my neck upwards to see one of the armor clad males hovering over me, the Shadowsinger who was glaring at Draven with sharp hazel eyes.

My throat closed up, not knowing how to explain the situation in a way that Dravon couldn’t twist it.

“I was having a discussion with my fiancé.” He said, calmly, his smirk back, pretending not to have a care in the world.

But I could tell he was enraged from the bruising grip he had on my hand.

The shadowsinger ignored Draven, looking at me for answers.

I shifted uncomfortably, speaking softly, “I was just enjoying the party when this male approached me. I have no clue what he’s talking about.”

Draven started to protest, but from one look from the shadowsinger, and he let go of my wrist, rushing off to some nasty corner of this place.

I let out a sigh of relief, letting my shoulders slump as I calmed myself.

“What’s your name?”

I jumped, having forgotten the shadowsinger was still there.

“I- uh- My name’s Y/N.” I said, hoping he didn’t realize who my father was.

He nodded. “I’m Azriel. Are you alright?” He asked, staring pointedly at my wrist, which I had started to rub soothingly without realizing it.

I stopped, trying not to make eye contact with him. “I’m fine, thank you.” I said, my common sense returning as I lowered my head, fully the demure female. This male was more powerful than even my father, if he decided to take over where Draven had left off, no one would be coming to save me.

“I should be heading home. My father is expecting me.” I said, turning and rushing away before he could speak again.

As I got farther into the halls and away from the party, I became more and more sure no one was following me.

I knew I would have to face my father eventually, but for now, I settled on resting against the wall, dipping my hand into the shadows I loved so dearly.

I couldn’t help but smirk as they crawled up my arm lovingly, curling around me, sensing my negative emotions.

Azriel wasn’t the only Shadowsinger in the night court, and it may just be the key to my escape.

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karokawwo · 16 days

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obscura sketches.. face hcs + kari doodles

#obscura vn #obscura fanart #doodles #keir #oleander

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rynilarts · 4 months

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I may or may not finish this but I HAD to get it out of my brain Keir from Obscura by @rottenraccoons

#keir #obscura #obscura vn #fan art #digital art #sketch #rynil art

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miragecounseling · 27 days

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happy trans visibility day ♥

○ tiago, khi's academic rival and secret love (he/they) ○ fleur, fox's love interest but she doesn't know their secret!!! (she/her) ○ callista, my cute modremvari (they/them) ○ keir / harrison fox, the pirate captain turned good that is also secretly a dragon (he/him when presenting as human solely to keep up the ruse, but any pronouns are fine)

#i finally decided on a name for rawry #i like keir for her dragon form cus it just sounds cool.............#but harrison fox made me laugh cus its like ... hairy fox........ foxes are furry #anyways #w his disguise hes mostly referred to as fox almost no one calls him harrison #my content #gw2 #callista #mordremvari #tiago #fleur #keir

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rottenraccoons · 3 months

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I see you connected the dots there tall man, even though I never got a proper answer. Anyway, I got question and I think you'll be quick to answer this one, properly, hopefully. What's the difference between an elephant and a matter baby?

(In reference to this post.)

"What's a matter ba—"

"..."

#rotten raccoons #obscura vn #keir

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kataraavatara · 27 days

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am i insane or is it mentioned that keir performs calanmai duties for rhysand. and if so why has he given Known Daughter Beater and Resident Super Misogynist sex magic duties.

#uhhh rhysand #what’s going on #calanmai #hewn city acotar #keir acotar #keir

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saffein-e · 1 year

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So he's in his mid thirties?? 👀👀👀💦💦💦

#obscura #obscura keir #fanart #my art #obscura vn #keir

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toomuchracket · 4 months

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little idea for the 3rd part (in the event you decide to make one)

maybe mrs mac and ross are doing one of those cute anniversary vow renewal things. for a 5 year anniversary or something. matty and girlie both go after not seeing each other for a couple of months and they both figure out the other one has broken up with their partners. (or to make it more angsty, matty and taylor broke up but girlie is still with her bf and maybe he came with, but she still misses matty a lot.) either way maybe girlie ends up going home with matty (after breaking up with her bf if she still had one.) and he spends the whole night making it up to her (a little arguing beforehand though.)

i edited this slightly, and the making up is still yet to come... but this part has a happy ending, i promise. hope you enjoy <3

gone four weeks, part 3 (d word matty x reader angst/fluff)

the breeze lifts your hair from the nape of your neck as you check your phone one final time, just to make sure you're at the right address. it's nice, the warm early summer wind, but you quickly make your way inside the restaurant and follow the signs towards the function room and your friends.

music - billy joel, you think - spills out of your destination through the half-open door; you can see ross swaying to it with baby keir in his arms, smiling at his wife cooing at the little boy. you smile, too, speeding up and hurrying over to join them. “hi! happy anniversary, you two! you look amazing!”

mrs mac cheers when you appear, hugging you and kissing your forehead in an extremely big-sisterly way. “thank you, beautiful girl! god, look at you,” she tugs the floaty skirt of your dress gently, face wondrous. “look at this dress! gorgeous.”

“thank you, lovely. hi, ross,” you hug him quickly before diverting your attention to keir. “and hello to you, sweetheart. oh, i've missed you! well,” you grin at his parents. “i've missed all of you while i've been away, but you and your sister most of all, keir, definitely.”

“speaking of,” mrs mac scans the room, while her son giggles at you adorably. “where is eilidh?”

ross tilts his head towards the back of the room. “busy teaming up with her cousin to terrorise hann.”

you turn, giggling when you see adam sandwiched between his son and eilidh at one of the tables, the two toddlers having an animated conversation across him. he smiles and waves when he sees you, though. so does carly, half-standing with an almost empty aperol spritz in one hand; she raises her eyebrows, pointing at you and then the glass, and smiles again when you nod and mouth a “thank you”. after briefly scanning the half-full room, you turn back to the macdonalds. “nobody else here yet?”

“nah,” ross shakes his head. “surprised you're here by yourself, actually.”

“what?” your brow furrows. “but i told you nothing developed between me and mi-”

“no, no, we know that. just figured you and matty might get a lift in together, you know? since he'd have to go past yours to get here and all.”

your stomach tenses involuntarily at the mention of him. “oh. no. i haven't spoken to him in couple of weeks, actually.”

thought about him every day, though. been wracked with guilt at the memory of him crying as you drove off. cried at it yourself, too.

you dig your nails into your palm to snap yourself out of it - he'll be here soon, after all - and try to focus on what mrs mac is saying. “you fell out, or something?”

“something like that, yeah.”

“about him mugging you off and flaunting his relationship with taylor in front of you? or something else?”

did he tell them? no. he can't have. he wouldn't even tell them - his best friends - that you were together. fuck, you are so confused. you must look it, too, because she keeps speaking. “well, we all thought that after new year, you and matty might… become something.”

“especially after the body shots you did off each other,” ross interjects. you give a small smile at the memory, tinged with sadness like all of your old ones involving matty are.

“the body shots, yeah. christ,” his wife shakes her head. “but seriously - we thought he was really into you. i felt a bit blindsided when he just started seeing taylor, to be honest. didn't want you to feel like he'd led you on, you know?”

bless her. “it's not that, no,” you hug her. well, you suppose, it kind of is. but your friends don’t need to know that. “we just have, um, opposing ideas about stuff, let's say.”

ross smiles. “which is code for he was an arsehole and had a tantrum, isn't it?”

his wife sighs. “ross, the baby.”

“sorry, sorry - he was a not very nice person and had a tantrum.”

“better. thank you.”

“i was trying to be diplomatic,” you giggle, covering keir's little ears. “but yeah, basically. although, in fairness, i was a bit of a bitch to him in return.”

“you? never,” carly slots into the conversation, handing you your drink and kissing your cheek in greeting. “who's the him in question, by the way? that american boy?”

ross shakes his head. “matty. who could do with people being bitch- brutally honest with him, sometimes, actually.”

you suck air in through your teeth. “i made him cry, though.”

carly blinks in surprise, then waves insouciantly. “he's been crying a lot lately, i wouldn't worry about it.”

of course, you do. “he has?”

“yeah. moping about everywhere since he got home two weeks ago,” she sighs. “he says it isn’t the breakup with taylor, he's adamant about it, and i actually believe him. but he's definitely sad about something, something that he can't bring himself to talk about.”

shit. you take a long drink of your cocktail. and then another, for good measure.

“well, i'm sure we'll find out soon. or he'll get over it,” mrs mac shrugs. “you're all back to work next week, anyway. he'll feel better then.”

her husband and carly murmur in agreement, but you keep your mouth shut. months of international flights and hotel stays with you in tow? feeling better isn’t a likely thing for either of you. you wince at the thought.

carly notices; thankfully, she mistakes it for something else. “i know, darling, sorry for reminding you about work at a party! come on, we'll sit down and you can tell us all about what you got up to in new york.”

“yeah, ok.”

and that's exactly what you do - omitting the sections about matty and the breakup and the tears and the arguing, and doing your best to field eilidh's many questions about the horses in central park, you tell them everything. about orla's show, your apartment, taylor’s party (which stings a little, you have to admit), the shows you saw on and off-broadway, the food you ate, the people you met.

unfortunately, it's during the latter section that matty appears at the table, preceded by george and charli, who slots herself in beside you and hugs you as tight as she can without injuring eilidh on your lap. george reaches behind her to ruffle your hair and tell you how happy he is to see you. matty stays silent, diagonally opposite you, his only indication of you a curt nod which you respond to with a weak smile. you do your best to ignore him while you talk, which proves nigh on impossible; you've never been able to resist sneaking glances at him as it is, and he looks good in the slightly flowier than usual white shirt he's wearing. depressed, admittedly, but - as he does with anything and everything - somehow managing to make that look ridiculously sexy.

you can feel his eyes on you, too, but his gaze is always elsewhere whenever you look his way. and you know you shouldn't care, you know, but something inside you wonders if and hopes that he thinks you look good. it's nice to think that at least one of his opinions or thoughts about you might be a positive one.

still, matty doesn't give any indication of how he feels about you; that is, until you mention that you stopped things with michael before they could even develop, and his head shoots up to look at you so quickly you fear for his neck. “wait, really?”

you meet his eyes for the first time. something funny happens to your heart when you do. “yeah.”

“so, when you left the studio to go to that bar…” matty’s voice trails off, almost like he can't bring himself to finish the sentence.

you understand. it's a painful memory for you, too. shaking your head, you reply. “i didn't go. went back to the apartment, told him i wasn't in the headspace for the date,” you smile faintly. “or any date, actually.”

something seems to flicker in matty's eyes, an emotion you can't quite name. “and that was it? done?”

you nod.

matty nods too; he looks… satisfied. “well. i'm glad you made the right decision. for you and your wellbeing, i mean.”

“thank you,” your smile falters. “he was a bit miffed, to be honest. got quite angry over the phone, called me a selfish, cold, ungrateful… well, i won't say, because of eilidh. but i was glad i was going home the following night.”

“did he threaten you?” adam leans across to look at you, his pleasant face set into a stern expression. “he better not have.”

“no, it was just,” you look down at the table, busying yourself with fixing eilidh's pigtails and trying not to focus on the sight of matty's knuckles, white from how tightly he's holding his pint. “i didn't want to think about the fact that he was right.”

your friends clamour into conversation all at once, overlapping voices disputing your statement and reassuring you and berating michael. nothing really takes hold in your bowed head, until a specific voice cuts through. “darling, look at me, please.”

there he goes with that fucking pet name again. and there you go, reacting to it out of nothing more than muscle memory and something emotional you'd rather not address (again); your breath catches in your throat when you look up to see matty looking softly at you for the first time in months.

he smiles - really smiles - and your brain turns to mush. “those things he said… none of them are right about you, yeah? he got you all wrong. remember that, alright?”

thank fuck. thank fuck he's on the same page as you again.

you nod, smiling shyly (but genuinely) at matty. “okay,” you exhale. “now, can we please talk about something else?”

thankfully, george takes over the conversation with a mention of the next gig in dundee, and soon enough the chat devolves into ranking scottish bands from best to worst, which in turn devolves into ross having to mediate an argument between his wife and his best friend about the merits of cocteau twins and the blue nile. since you kinda-sorta made up with matty, the tension is dissipating from both your body and the atmosphere, but some of your anxiety remains; you think he might be feeling the same, because neither of you make any attempts to instigate conversation with the other. but it's better than it was - you can at least make eye contact with and smile at each other, and you're content enough with that, for the time being, at least.

eilidh, though, has other ideas. she sits bolt upright on your lap when the intro to atomic kitten's cover of the tide is high plays, wriggling - uncomfortably, but you'd never admit that to her - to sit on her knees on yours. “oh! matty?”

he leans across to his goddaughter. “yeah, bean?”

“dance with me?”

he grimaces. “to this?”

“uh huh,” her little pigtails bounce as she nods. “i like it.”

“well, alright then,” he stands, holding out a hand. “come on!”

you unclasp your hands so eilidh can climb off your knee. she grabs one of them once she's safely on the floor. “you dance too!”

your jaw drops. “me? really?”

eilidh nods very seriously. matty catches your eye and shrugs behind her.

“well, i did really like this song,” you sigh, standing up and letting the toddler pull you onto the dancefloor. “think i was about your age when it came out, actually, eilidh.”

“it's that old?” matty shakes his head. “christ. i feel ancient.”

eilidh smiles at him. “you are.”

despite the weirdness of the situation, you giggle. matty smiles knowingly at you, before turning his attention back to eilidh. “alright, miss. show us what to do, then.”

“okay!” eilidh starts doing a little toddler two-step thing that makes you and matty giggle; she grabs each of you again and frowns. “you too!”

“alright, we're doing it,” you grin, copying her and giggling again when matty does the same. “like this?”

she tilts her head exactly like her mum. “you hold hands too.”

you blanch, and open your mouth to protest - matty grabs your hand before you can, sending shockwaves up your arm to your brain. he brushes his thumb feather-lightly over your skin, and you relax immediately. “like this, bean?”

“yeah.”

“alright,” he turns to you, face placid. “you alright?”

“i'm alright,” you smile at him, then at eilidh. “means i don't have my hands free to teach you the dance from the music video, but whatever.”

matty throws his head back and laughs loudly at that; you quickly glance over at the table of your friends, all visibly dumbfounded by his change in mood. “you learnt the official choreography? at what age?”

“four, i think,” you shrug. “mum might still have the video.”

“i hope she does,” he squeezes your hand. “i bet it's adorable. you were so cute in those photos you showed me at your gran's.”

you look for the sadness in his eyes when he says that. but there's none, just… fondness. it makes you smile, lower your guard a smidge more, and reply with a joke. “cute past tense? god, i picked out the swishy dress so i'd match the most adorable person in the room and everything,” you shake eilidh’s hand, making her giggle. “but there's no catching up to you in those stakes, bean, is there?”

“nah,” eilidh shakes her head, grinning when you and matty all but collapse into giggles.

“i like the dress. it's very, well, you,” matty looks at you almost shyly; your stomach erupts into butterflies at the sight. “don’t think i'd describe you as cute, though.”

you deflate slightly. “no?

he shakes his head. “no. but i do think you're gorgeous.”

there he is.

“thank you,” your cheeks burn as you smile at him. “i think you look really handsome today, by the way. like the shirt a lot.”

“oh, thanks. got it in a vintage shop last week,” matty’s cheeks go pink, too. “you'd have liked it in there, i think.”

you nod. “maybe you can show me when we stop there for tour?” your voice is small, tentative.

he smiles, squeezing your hand again. “of course, darling. whatever you want.”

a wave of emotion washes over you at the familiar phrase - not a negative, painful one, though, rather something… reassuring. the weirdness still lingers between the two of you, but you know that your matty, the man who loved and cared for and about you so deeply, is still in there somewhere.

and, as proved seconds later, when the song changes to something slow and eilidh drops your hands with an “ugh, this is boring. daaaaaaad!” and runs off… your matty is closer to the surface than you originally thought.

he huffs out a laugh as he watches his goddaughter speed off, then turns to you. his eyes, those beautiful eyes, look at your still-conjoined hands and then trail up to meet your own. with another squeeze, he speaks. “considering she's left us out here on the dancefloor like this - shall we dance? i know you like this song, too.”

nostalgia floods your senses as you recognise the paolo nutini song playing. memories of sharing it with matty for the first time flash into your brain: the way the evening sun hit off the glass door in his living room, the welcome coolness of the concrete floor under your too-warm body, the unmistakable smell and hazy happiness from the joint the two of you passed back and forth, the adoration on matty's face as you sang and mime-played along and told him it was one of your favourites.

you zone out, lost in all of that, only coming to when matty nervously speaks again. “you can say no, of course, i just thought it might be nice. but no hard feelings if you don't want to.”

“i do,” you take his other hand comfortingly. “i just got distracted thinking about the first time i put this song on at yours.”

relief crosses matty's face, followed by wistful happiness. “that was a good day. wanted to dance with you then, too,” he blushes again. “but i was too high to move.”

you laugh. “you've got full range of movement today?”

“yeah. look,” he twirls you, grinning. “i won't let you fall.”

too late.

“right, then,” you clasp your hands behind his neck, and his slowly, tentatively make their way onto your waist; the contact sends sparks through your entire nervous system, making you stand up straighter and forcing you to look up into matty's eyes with a nervous smile. “lead the way.”

matty smiles back. “alright.”

with that, he starts to move, swaying softly from side to side, eyes still locked on yours. the old adoration is faint within them, growing as you blush and giggle nervously. “why are you looking at me like that?”

he shrugs. “can't help it. maybe you're just too gorgeous.”

“oh, stop it, please,” you hide your face in the crook of his neck on sheer instinct, and feel the terror building when you realise what you've done.

it dissipates before it even starts, though, because matty only laughs and pulls you closer to him - pulls you home. a content silence falls over both of you, both of you happy to listen to paolo and continue swaying; matty breaks it with a happy hum. “this is nice.”

“yeah.” you aren't lying.

“i miss this, you know,” matty moves his arms, so they're hugging you rather than holding you. a beat passes. “i miss you.”

your heart aches. you open your mouth to reply; matty, feeling your jaw move against his body, keeps talking before you can. “i know you'll have things to say, too, and i want to hear them, i really do, but please let me just say what i need to say first. please?”

you nod against him.

matty exhales. “thank you, darling. alright. well, first, i want to apologise,” his fingers trace little patterns into your dress, the way you know he does when he's scared. “i’ve been nothing but a cunt to you lately, and i'm truly, truly sorry for both just being that and for not realising it sooner…”

you quirk your eyebrows in agreement.

“...and i know you probably hate me, now - to be honest, i wouldn't blame you - but,” he sighs, and sniffles. “i love you. i really, really love you, darling, and i know this is going to sound silly and out of touch or whatever, because i know i made you feel like it was the opposite, but i do want you. just you, as you are, nothing else. that's my actual dream, you being with me and in love with me. always has been. i just didn't properly realise it, and i am so incredibly sorry that i thought and made you think it was anything else, and for the damage i caused in that.”

fuck. your jaw shakes as you speak, still trying to comprehend matty's words. “but you were just so adamant about the kids thing. and so quick to-”

“i know, darling, i know,” one of matty's hands comes up to stroke your hair. “i think i only reacted that way because, well, that was only my dream because i was dreaming about having them with you. so when it seemed like you were doubting it…”

“...you were scared i was going to end it, so you just, sort-of, sped up the process?”

he sighs. “yeah. it's a fucking stupid defence mechanism. but i'm working on it, in two hour-and-a-half-long sessions a week,” he laughs uncomfortably. “m'not trying to make you feel guilty, or anything, by the way. just wanna be honest with you.”

“i know, matty,” you gently pat his back. “thank you for telling me. and i'm sorry i ever made you doubt me, and worry, you know?” you sigh. “i wish i hadn't freaked out so much initially. then we wouldn't be in this mess.”

“no, darling, you were right in what you said to me in new york,” matty all but coos. “it’s a big conversation, the starting a family chat, and i did spring it on you - you weren't wrong reacting in the way you did. honest. and like i said,” he clears his throat. “that wasn't the real dream. you were - are, still. everything else is just, like, add-ons.”

you kiss his cheek, turning your head so it rests more on his chest and bringing your hand up to rest beside it. his heart is beating quite quickly, matching yours beat for beat. “it's a nice dream, though, with the add-ons. i had it recently, actually. when i got home from new york. dreamt we had a baby girl,” you say. you're so close to matty that you can see his chest tattoo through the fabric of his shirt, and you begin tracing it out of habit. “i'm not upsetting you by telling you this, am i? i can stop if you like.”

matty kisses your hair. “no. tell me about it, please.”

“well, she was perfect. your hair, my face, little chunky baby legs,” you smile, but your eyes are filling with tears. “it was so tangible i could actually feel her when i lifted her from her crib, and feel your head on my shoulder when you were talking to her and making her laugh,” your voice breaks. “and then i woke up, and neither of you were there. and it hurt. i forgot i couldn't just roll over and tell you about it excitedly; when i remembered, i couldn't stop crying. and thinking about the fact she wasn't real just made it worse,” your tears are turning matty's shirt transparent, and you do your best to compose yourself. “i love you, too, and i want you, us, again - that's basically what i'm trying to say. but i'm also trying to say that i’d happily start a family with you, if you still wanted that. i'm sorry it took me so long to realise.”

matty exhales shakily. you look up and meet his gaze, just as teary as yours. he smiles at you, though. “i want whatever you want, darling. but,” he carefully wipes the pooling tears from your lashline. “i really would like it if that baby girl from your dreams was real. at some point, that is. whenever we feel like we're ready. we can figure that out later, yeah?”

“absolutely. we'll take our time. that said, though,” you whisper, suddenly shy. “will you please, um, come home with me tonight? not like that, necessarily - i just, you know, sleep a lot better when you're beside me. haven't slept very well for the past few months, to be honest.”

he hugs you as tight as he can. “of course i will.”

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