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imightgetbetter · 9 months

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i'm not very good at this sort of thing

matty and the missus' wedding. a little smut, a lot of sweetness. i hope you enjoy. i am feeling very soft thinking about this era of their relationship. i would love to write more lovey dovey stuff like this. love these two forever and ever. thanks for supporting me and them and the blog. you're all a bunch of legends. love you forever and then some. warnings: some smut in the beginning so if you're a minor don't read ok thank you also lots of sweet stuff if you're looking for angst it's not here

Matty’s curls hang low in your face as his hips thrust against yours, rocking back and forth as your legs tighten around his waist, your hands cupping his cheeks as your lips sloppily meet in the middle amidst your moans and grunts. His cock is buried deep inside of you, and you can feel yourself nearing the edge of release, the pleasure building in your abdomen and your fingertips gripping the sheets beneath you. His words are murmured against your skin, rushes of “I love you,” “God, you feel so good,” and many moments of “fuck” grunted in your ear. His words alone could bring you there, but the feeling of him pushing into you, his thighs tense between yours, is enough to push you over the edge.

His orgasm washes over him as you tense and squeeze around him, your body growing lax beneath him as he kisses over your thighs and your stomach and up your chest, nuzzling in your neck and pressing tiny kisses into your skin. Circling your arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly to you, you can see your engagement ring shining with the sunlight piercing through the window. Matty had just gotten it cleaned for the first time, and it looks brand new, you’d say, almost too pretty to wear. Almost being the key word there, because you haven’t taken it off since he slid it on your finger. Matty lifts his head when you sigh, his lips pulled into a half smile that you adore so openly.

“Are your legs shaking?”

“Maybe,” you huff, slowly releasing your legs from around his waist and stretching them out against the crisp white sheets. Matty lifts his body from yours, with a laugh, slowly pulling out of you and lying beside you, stretching himself out before sitting upright and reaching for his phone on the bedside table. “Have you picked up our clothes from the dry cleaners?”

“I have to do that in an hour or so. Do you know what time everyone is coming over?”

“Around two,” you say, rolling onto your side and laying your head on his chest, closing your eyes to the sound of his heartbeat thrumming under your ears. “Can we go look at wedding bands, today?”

“Will we have time?”

“It’s only,” you say, pausing to look at the time on his screen, “half eight. I think if we’re out the door by ten we can grab our dry cleaning and look at wedding bands and be back and ready for the party by two.”

“Alright, darling, whatever you like,” Matty hums, kissing your forehead and setting his phone beside him, soaking in the last minutes of quiet before a busy day. “It’s supposed to be beautiful out, today. It would be a lovely day to get married.” Matty’s eyes meet yours for a moment. “I was kidding, love.”

“Are you?”

“I mean, yeah,” he says, patting your backside and nudging you away from him – the longer you’re on him the longer he’ll prolong staying in bed – swinging his legs over the side of the bed and reaching for a clean pair of boxers in the bedside table drawer. “I haven’t got anything ready for you. I haven’t planned the honeymoon or my vows or even what I want to wear. And God, I’ll be a mess when you walk down the aisle, I haven’t prepared myself for that.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you hum, admiring him as he slowly pulls trousers up his legs and settles the waistband just right on his hips. “I wouldn’t mind it, though.”

“Wouldn’t mind what, darling?”

“Just winging it.” There’s a sentiment in the air that you can’t quite put your finger on, an emotion you’ve never touched bubbling at the surface. More than love, more than genuine care, it’s almost a feeling of nostalgia, to be at time in your life where surprising your friends and family with a celebration of your love for one another would be reminiscent of the past, an ode to the times where you snuck around and hid in closets and bedrooms. Something new, untouched in your emotional toolkit. “I don’t think it’d throw our friends off that much. Our families wouldn’t mind as long as they’re there. It’d save us all a hassle, to be honest.”

“I can see the wheels turning in your head, YN.” Matty pulls a shirt over his head and lays his hands flat on the mattress, leaning over to press his lips to yours. “We’re not getting married, today, my dear.”

“But, what if we did?”

Matty puffs out a breath and kisses your temple, his lips lingering on your skin for more than a moment before conceding, “Then I guess we’re going to buy wedding bands, aren’t we?”

“I promise we can do the whole big reception and party and booze and hundreds of guests and friends and family another time, Matty,” you reason, grabbing his cheeks and holding his face flush to yours, your noses pressed against each other at the bridge. “But this, this I want to be just us and our immediate family. You and me. The guys. Our parents. Our siblings. Twenty people max. All in our backyard. We’ll get everyone here and tell them it’s the engagement party but when we go to make a toast, we’ll tell everyone to get in their cars and get on their way to the courthouse. And then we’ll come back here and celebrate. It’ll be just like we pictured it.”

“Just how you pictured it, darling.” Matty takes note of your softened and defeated expression. “Darling, will this make you happy?”

“I don’t want something big. I just want you and me.”

“I’m pretty sure I have to be there either way, my love.”

“Matty.”

“Look,” Matty says softly, adjusting his body to sit on the edge of the mattress, his face still held between your palms, his nose brushed against yours, “if this is how you picture our wedding day, then I’m in. It’s our day, sure, but you waited long enough for me to get my shit together, the least I can do is make sure it’s the day of your dreams.”

You lean forward, pressing your lips to his sweetly, a smile breaking apart where your mouths meet. “I love you massively, deep in the depths of my bones.”

“I don’t even think that’s possible.”

“It’s possible.”

“Alright, Madam Poetry, we have rings to buy and flowers to find all in the span of,” Matty checks his phone, “four hours.”

Kissing Matty once more for good measure, you push off the mattress, rattling about in your wardrobe to find your clothing. Matty assures you that you don’t have to rush, just put a little pep in your step, and that you don’t want to forget anything. You ask him to grab all the things for a marriage certificate (you’ve been researching in your free time) and you stand in front of the mirror, sure and ready with your decision. You have everything you need, in and including a note on your phone that you’ve been drafting over and over since the day after you got engaged.

“Are you ready, darling?”

“I am,” you say surely, tucking your things in your purse and grabbing his hand, following his lead out the door. He’s chattering about what garnish of metal he’s thinking about for his ring, and you can see the excitement beginning to fill his features, and you wonder if it’s always been there, the anticipation of marrying you, and you just never noticed. All the words you’ve been thinking of for the last twenty minutes sit resting on the tip of your tongue, and you don’t want to ruin the excitement, yet you know you need to ask. Matty’s question of what you’re thinking about draws you from your daydream and you blurt out, “Have you written your vows yet?”

///

Outside couldn’t have been better – a sunny afternoon with clear skies and warm temperament basking over everyone in the garden, two tables filled with family and the closest friends to you, glasses of champagne gathered around the place settings that will be filled with catered food later in the evening. Matty miraculously (although not surprisingly) pulled through on the surprise by only telling Jamie what was happening today (as he would be in attendance, of course) and the extra knowing hands allowed for you two to solely focus on buying the rings and the flowers and getting Matty’s suit dry cleaned and your dress properly steamed for the afternoon – a white, silk number that fit perfectly to your body. Matty nearly burst at the seams when George rang him to ask what he should bring to the party, and you kept a close eye on him to ensure the secret would remain just that – a secret.

Matty pulls you into his side, kissing your temple sweetly. “Is it time?” he whispers, waiting for you to meet his gaze and nod at him subtly, your peripheral vision catching the eyes of George and Ross in the corner. Carly stands close by, handing a glass of champagne to Adam (if Matty got to tell an important person, you got to tell an important person), and you smile, grabbing your own and holding it up for everyone to see.

“Matty and I wanted to thank you all for coming to our engagement party, today. All of us are only in town for a little while and we know you all have things to be doing, but it felt like the perfect time to celebrate the engagement and everything that it means from here on out,” you say, your eyes welling with tears at the thought of what comes next. It’s what you’ve been waiting for all these years, all the waiting and yearning for him behind closed doors, it’s coming to a close, and to a new beginning all at once. “I’m sure all of you were waiting for our engagement as much as I was,” you say, laughing with your friends and family as a surrounding sea of head nods and laughter fills your garden. “I just wanted to say a thank you, from Matty and myself, to all of you, for always loving and supporting us and seeing our relationship through just as much as we did. Your love and support have meant everything to us.” Matty’s hand squeezes yours.

“That’s actually why we told you all to dress up a bit more formally, today,” Matty begins, waving his champagne glass towards the friends and family all dressed in trousers and skirts. “’Cause it’s not just an engagement party, you know, why would we ever do anything so lackluster?” Matty smirks at his mother, who seemingly has already caught on, and is whispering in your mother’s ear as Matty gathers the courage to say what he really means. “What I really mean to say is, well, we’re getting married. Today, I mean. Cars are on their way to take us to the courthouse, and we’ve already done all the paperwork and things. You’ll all be a witness. A true family affair.”

“I know the whole wedding planning is the usual thing to do but, to be fair, it’s really not my speed and I’d much rather celebrate with just you lot. This is what we want to do,” you say, looking to Matty, who has a smile plastered from ear to ear. “All we want from you all is lots of pictures and videos. That’s all we ask. We have plenty of food and drinks and wine and dancing waiting for us for when we get back.”

“That’s it, then? We’re doing this thing?” George chimes in from against the wall, a grin spreading across his lips as he walks towards his best friend. “Are you going to play it?”

“Play what?” you say, turning your head towards George and Matty and pressing your lips together in a tight line, trying to read the facial expressions between the two of them. Matty nods and George claps him on the shoulder, kissing his cheek and hurrying inside to grab what you can assume to be an instrument. Matty kisses your cheek and pulls a chair out for you, grabbing the chair beside you and sitting in it himself. “Matty, what are you playing?”

Matty takes a sip of the champagne and takes the guitar from George, settling the strings in the right places and allowing Carly and George to gather everyone around where you’re sitting, everyone seeming to know exactly what’s happening besides you. “You are the last person to know about this,” Matty says, strumming the strings lightly, “mainly because I have been trying to find the words to write normal vows to you since the night we got engaged. I'm not very good at this sort of thing, as you know. I just couldn’t make anything sound right and I knew nothing would be comparable to what you’ve written, so I figured I’d do what I knew best, and George and I got in the studio, and we wrote. Well, I wrote. I wrote about you and what it means to be loved by you. And I wrote about how I think I can get better whenever I’m with you, because you make things better, darling. You make everything better.” Matty wipes the corner of his eye. “So, while I didn’t write a three-paragraph barrage of my love for you, I did write a three-minute song of it. I would like to play that for you, now, because I do think it would be very weird to pull out a guitar in the middle of a courthouse.” Matty laughs with you, and you can hear the surrounding laughter behind you. “Can I play my vows for you, sweetheart?”

And the only thing you can do is nod quietly, swallowing back tears as his fingers splay out over the strings.

“Our first kiss was Christmas in the Walmart toy department // She said, "I should take you with me when I leave" // When we were searchin' New York for a fancy, new apartment // She said, "Central Park is Sea World for trees.” Matty’s voice is soft, and the only thing you can hear besides his voice is the quiet chirping of birds far off in the distance, and you wish you could take a picture of the moment, of you and Matty and the loved ones around you, but you swear you’ll keep it all in your memory. “You ask about the cows, wearin' my sweater // It's somethin' 'bout the weather that makes them lie down // The only time I feel I might get better is when we are together. I like socks with sandals, she's more into scented candles // Oh, I'll never get that smell out of my bag // And it was poorly handled, the day we both got canceled // Because I'm a racist and you're some kind of slag.” Matty laughs breathily and you can feel yourself laughing under the tears in your eyes. “You ask about the cows, wearin' my sweater // It's somethin' 'bout the weather that makes them lie down // The only time I feel I might get better is when we are together, oh, together.” Matty takes a breath, “"I'm better at writing" was just a way to get you biting, oh // The truth is that our egos are absurd // I thought we were fighting but it seems I was gaslighting you // I didn't know that it had its own word // You still ask about the cows, wearin' my sweater // Said it's something 'bout the weather that makes them lie down // The only time I feel I might get better is when we are together.”

Matty sets the guitar in George’s hands and grabs your hands, pulling you into his lap. He gently wipes the tears from your eyes and says, “I know for a fact that I get better when I’m with you, and I want to spend every day for the rest of my life, and into the next one, getting better with you, darling. You are the better half of me. I can’t wait to make you my wife.”

Matty sighs when you grab his cheeks and kiss him, falling into your touch and blissfully ignoring the coos from your family around you, your friends hollering and whistling for you. Adam calls that the cars are here, and Carly begins ushering everyone outside for you. You take one more moment with Matty alone, soaking in what it feels like now, to be moments away from your wedding, from being his wife. You circle your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly, and whisper into his ear, “I’ve been getting better since the day I met you.”

///

Matty is holding your hands tightly as you stand in front of the officiant at the courthouse, all your friends and family adoringly taking videos and photographs, your excitement bubbling over in your grin and wide eyes, a mirrored expression on Matty’s face. His hands are shaking in yours, and you squeeze him tightly to reassure him that you’re there, that you’re never going anywhere. On your left, the officiant is saying many things about love and quoting great philosophers and therapists and people you’ve never heard of, all things you wish you could say you wanted to remember, but all you want to remember is this feeling, the feeling of Matty’s hands in yours and the smile on his face and the way his curls are falling in his eyes and the way your heart feels like it’s sitting permanently in your throat with nerves.

“It’s time for your vows, YN. Have you prepared your own, too?”

“I have mine, yes,” you say, looking at Carly nervously and smiling when she hands you your phone, your fingers fiddling with the screen to find the note that you’ve labelled honey for as long as you can remember. “Alain de Botton said, ‘Perhaps it is true that we do not really exist until there is someone there to see us existing, we cannot properly speak until there is someone who can understand what we are saying in essence, we are not wholly alive until we are loved.’ I have been loved my whole life, and I have loved my whole life, but until I was thirteen, I had never been loved by you. It’s a special thing, to meet the person you’re meant to share your life with at such a young age, because I have had the privilege of sharing my life with you for more than half of it. I do believe that I was merely existing before I met you, because meeting you had meant that I met my people. My best friends. My confidants. My family. My village. Because I met you, I found people that understood what I was saying, even when I didn’t exactly know what I was saying myself. Because I met you, I realized what it meant to really feel alive. I know that being alive feels like staying up until four in the morning talking and dancing and singing together after being awake for twenty hours. I know that being alive means crying together when things go wrong. I know that being alive means laughing at our mistakes and loving each other in spite of them. And I know that being alive means I get to love you unconditionally and without limit. Yes, perhaps it is true that we do not really exist until there is someone to see us existing. And if it’s you that sees me exist, I will be happy forever.”

Matty looks at the officiant and looks at you, smiling brightly. “This is why I went first.” George laughs and Ross shakes his head. Carly reaches over and hands you a tissue, always prepared and already ready. Matty looks to the officiant, again, and says, “I need her to be my wife, now. Quickly, if possible.”

Matty smiles when you laugh, and you can see that the sound of it alone makes his eyes light up with joy. Minutes go by and words are shared between you and the officiant and Matty, I do and Yes, I will and a Thank God before Matty’s mouth is on yours, kissing you deeply, his hands holding your cheeks as your body presses against his. He kisses you for what feels like forever, and you’re lost in it, in the feeling of him and his mouth and what it means.

You’re married. You and Matty are married.

“We’re married,” you whisper, pulling away to catch your breath.

“We are. You’re my missus, darling. Now and forever, you’re all mine. And, might I add, you’re absolutely dashing in all white.” Matty tucks his thumb under your chin, “What’s going in that brain of yours? Are you happy?”

“I’m so happy, I don’t know what to do with all of it,” you whisper, the tears overflowing in your eyes and creasing in the corners. “I love you forever.”

“And I’ll love you longer.”

#matty healy #matty healy fic #matty healy smut #love it if we made it series #matty and the missus #the 1975 #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic

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