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abouttofillhisshoes · 29 days

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What time you coming out? - M.H x Reader // pt.1

A/N: Lenas writer debut??? Omg??? This has a bunch of references to fics like the cellophane house (written by the lovely @vinylandcoffeecollection, srsly check out their work!). It's a bit angsty? Not really but angst will come this is a chaptered fic. Based off fallingforyou, hence the title. Thank you @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for beta reading and putting up with me xx

wc: 11k

part two

February, 2008

“I'm not sure we should be doing this, neither of us is a professional hairdresser in any capacity”

Mötley Crüe’s ‘Public Enemy #1’ blares through the small speaker set on top of the toilet lid, the music reverberating off the bathroom's tiled walls. Matty attempts to brush the bleach onto your hair, narrowly missing your eyebrow for what felt like the sixth time. You'd prefer to not come out of this situation looking like 90s madonna if you could help it.

“Could you maybe not get the stuff on my face? I'm not sure I'd look as amazing as I do with bleached brows,” you say, flicking Mattys hand away from your hair, straightening your posture on top of the sink. Your elbow accidently knocks into the faucet and you curse out loud.

“You're right love, you'd look well hideous without brows” Matty retorts, laughing in your face. He's right, doesn't mean he has to say it.

“At least I have any sort of eyebrows, I'd get yours filled in if I was you.” Now it's your turn to laugh at him, his jaw hitting the floor at your comment. He clutches his chest with his hand, bending over for dramatic effect as if to say: “You wound me”. You fall into each other's arms, fighting over the ipod once again.

The song changes, and Matty resumes his attempts at bleaching your hair properly, failing once again. It had been a stupid, stoned impulse decision to buy the bleach at all. The local drugstore sold it for cheap, and you had some pocket change on you. Matty wanted you to buy the red dye, and you dismissed him immediately, because even he knew you'd look absolutely terrible as a redhead.

You hum along softly to David Bowie's “Suffragette City”. Bowie was your Idol. The song reminds you of him. Of Matty. It reminds you of when you first met.

—------------------------------------------------------

You were 15, pacing the street late at night, your boyfriend was blowing up your phone. Insincere apologies and “i love you”’s filled your screen. 4 missed calls. Tears were streaming down your face, making you not quite able to see straight.

The song playing, was blaring in your headphones, almost deafening. The song didn't fit at all to your current situation, but that didn't bother you.

It wasn't long before you reached a bus stop, sitting down. You didn't even know where you were.

Suddenly, like it was out of your control, you let out broken sobs, no longer silently crying. How fucking embarrassing.

You're not sure how long you’d been sitting there, in the dark, shivering in the cruel November weather.

You hadn't even noticed the person walking up to you.

He’d positioned himself in front of you, twisting his neck to get a look underneath your hood.

“You alright?” his voice sounded soft, concerned even. Through muffled sobs, you managed to look up at him.

He had a thick, fluffy jacket on. Oddly feminine for bloke, and you were pretty sure it was a women's coat. It basically swallowed him whole. You almost laughed at the sight. It almost made you forget about the night's events.

You’d had yet another fight with your boyfriend, Phillip. The two of you fought a lot, but never like this. Sure, he’d said some hurtful things, things you maybe shouldn't have forgiven as quickly as you did, but he had never, ever, gotten violent with you. Until tonight.

You'd barely registered it when it happened, your brain not properly processing his actions. In the midst of his screaming, he raised his hand. Raised. his. hand.

It came down with a crash against your left cheek, the sound echoing through the house. Because he did, in fact, have his own flat. Because 24 year olds usually have that.

Everything hit you at once. You'd managed to pick yourself up off the ground at a speed which would have given even world record holders a run for their money. You didn't bother grabbing anything else, you just needed to get out, now.

You could faintly hear his voice calling out from behind you, begging you to please, please come back. And what? Let him put his hands on you again? No way. A rare moment of clarity.

Fucking cunt

You’re brought back to reality by the sound of the stranger's voice.

“I’m Matty.” he offered his hand, and you shook it. “What're you doing out here in the cold? Its fuckin’ freezing.” He's right, it was cold. It hadn't occurred to you to take your coat with you.

You stuttered out a pathetic response of your name, barely making eye contact with him. A few beats pass before Matty starts ruffling around in his coat pockets. Raising your eyebrows, you watch him.

You can hear the faint sound of keys in his right pocket, and it's not long before he pulls out a joint from his left. It looks crumpled and old, like it had been there for a while.

“Spliff? It looks like you need it more than me.” He chuckles, and it somehow makes you feel better. He makes a move to sit next to you, and you twitch slightly when his shoulder touches yours. The bench is quite narrow, so you know it's not on purpose. It doesn't bother you quite as much as it should, given he is a stranger.

He takes out his lighter. It looks old and used, the black plastic chipping off around the top. It looks like it's a miracle it even works. You can see white writing along the side of it. M.H. Initials? His initials? Matty H something.

He starts burning the tip. Rotating the joint to get an even burn, you watch his movements closely, taking in some of his features.

His hair was curly but frizzy, you could tell he didn't pay it much mind. His features seemed soft, almost feminine. He was clean shaven, his pale skin a stark contrast to the dark brown of his hair.

Matty lets you take the first drag, stating “The first hit’s the best, and I've always been a gentleman”, flashing a grin your way. That made you laugh. You take a drag, letting the warm feeling spread through your body.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked timidly, his voice lowering.

“Absolutely not.” You mutter, looking him straight in the eyes for what seems like the first time that night. A smile.

—-------------------------------------------------------

“D’you think I'd look good as a blonde? I feel like I'd smash it,” Matty says, inspecting his hair in the mirror behind you. He has gorgeous locks, and you're constantly telling him to try and take care of them, he just doesn't listen. You study his features before giving him an answer.

“Maybe. Either that or you'd look like a bad hooker,” Matty gasps, shoving your shoulder in protest. The movement makes your elbow bang against the faucet again, but you ignore the pain this time

“I'll let you know i'd make an amazing hooker, thanks very much,” He proclaims quite loudly, making the both of you burst into a laughing fit.

You take the brush from Matty, twirling in your hand. George had taught you how to do that. An idea pops into your head.

“We could give you a few blonde highlights, just to try it out. There's no need for you to go full Elle Woods immediately” A giggle escapes your lips, picturing Matty with long, blonde hair. That’d be a sight.

“Let's do it, right now,” he breathes, visibly excited.

“Really? Adam’d take the absolute piss out of you, you know.” Matty rolls his eyes obnoxiously before he speaks. “Well then let Adam hold on to his toxic ideas of masculinity, I need a change.” This piques your interest. Matty? Need a change? Weird.

“What, did some bird break your heart this time? That's new, even for you Matthew,”

You can see him visibly cringe at your use of his full name. You know he hates it, and that is exactly why you do it. Getting a rise out of him is your favorite pastime.

“Switch with me then,” you say, and he obliges, letting you hop off the counter. You mix up a new batch of bleach and part off his hair into small sections. Little pink hair bands hold his curls in place. You shoot him a look and he nods, giving you the go-ahead. The bleach goes on smoothly, your practiced hand much less prone to mistakes than Mattys.

It doesn't take long before you're both sitting on your bed with foils in your hair. You manage to snap a picture of Matty on your polaroid camera. The light reflects off the foils, distorting the picture slightly. Matty demands to see it, but you decide to keep it for yourself. Can't get everything you want.

It's Mattys' turn on the music.

You've decided on a turn system for music when you're together, to avoid the gnarly fights you used to have over who gets to control the ipod.

He picks the latest Deftones album. It's not really your taste, and you tell him as much.

“S’not my fault your music taste consists of pop trash. Get well soon”, now it's your turn to shove him, and he almost falls off the bed. Your fights over music happened frequently. He insisted on listening to real music, while you couldn't care less if it sounded good.

The timer dings and you both get up to wash your hair in the sink. Water splashes everywhere, absolutely soaking the bathroom. You don't care. It's just water.

Towels litter the bathroom floor, soaking up the mess. Matty helps you dry your hair after you promise to help with his. The warm air feels nice on your neck.

“I like it, it makes me look camp,” Matty states, admiring himself in the mirror. Of course he'd say something like that.

“You look great, now get dressed, I've messaged Hann. He's picking us up at half 11”

Adam was one of your best mates, and the only one who had a car. You and Matty were still in school, along with George, another one of your friends. Adam and Ross shared a flat on the outskirts of the city. Adam's mother had gifted him a car for his 18th birthday last year. A bright red Kia. Bumper stickers littered the back, your favorite reading ‘Vehicle of legends”

Matty had borrowed one of your tops, specifically, a mesh top you'd gotten from Hollister a few weeks prior. It was adorned with a black tank top underneath, paired with the black skinny jeans you're convinced have fused with his legs at this point.

His hair had dried, dark curls now in contrast with blonde streaks. They framed his face. He looked good.

You’d gone for a more colorful ensemble, opting for baggy jeans instead of skinny ones. The bottom had already been well ripped up from years of dragging them on the ground. You paired said jeans with a wine-red off the shoulder jumper, the black strap of your bralette peaking out. You’d always loved that color. It reminded you of your favorite flowers, red roses.

The window closed softly, and you silently thanked God you lived on the first floor. Adam was already parked down the road from your house, impatiently waiting for the two of you. The radio was playing as you got in. Matty immediately started going on about how pop music has ruined the music scene and how it was all 'soulless, meaningless droning' and 'had no feeling anymore'. He always did this, and you'd learned to tune it out by then.

The drive was short, and you arrived at your destination not long after you’d set off. The air smelled like water and wet pavement. It had been pissing down earlier in the day.

‘The spot’ was an abandoned paper factory, affectionately renamed “Caroline's house” for any eavesdropping parents.

Carolines had been abandoned for well over 5 years before you started hanging out there, not many knew about it.

The three of you had already made your way through the back entrance. The front had been blocked off years ago, a futile attempt at keeping kids out. There was one specific room you always went to, and that was the office. It had a huge terrace with an amazing view of the city below. The glowing lights made you feel small and irrelevant in the vastness of the world.

The night was bright under the full moon, making it easy to see outside. Adam always brought an emergency flashlight with him when you went to Carolines. He was the voice of reason in the midst of the chaos. The responsible one. He always made sure everyone got home safe, talked your way out of situations with coppers on multiple occasions, and knew when to tell the bartender to switch drinks to water or juice. You’d always thank him the morning after.

“What even is your shirt, mate,” Adam asked with a grin on his face. He loved to take the piss out of Matty for his camp-ness. No harm no foul, Matty would do the exact same to him when the opportunity presented itself. Eyeing him up and down, he shook his head and went back to picking at his nails.

“She let me borrow it for tonight. Looks good, yeah?” Matty shoots back.

“Yeah sure, that and those white streaks in your hair make you look like a proper girl, you know”

You have to laugh at his statement, because it does ring true. From a certain distance, anyone could mistake Matty for a woman.

“You wish I was a girl, it’d make you feel less guilty about your sex fantasies, innit?” Matty cackles at his own words. Adam chucks a lighter at him, and misses. It instead bounces off the railing of the terrace and clatters down onto the ground somewhere behind you.

That was your cue to take out the small baggy from the pocket of your jeans. Going to look for the lighter Adam had just thrown, you turn around to see he’d already snatched your papes and weed, and started to roll a spliff.

“Oh come on, I look away for a second and you steal my weed. What, are you too broke to buy your own?” You huffed, sitting down on the floor next to him.

“Girls don't roll their own spliffs. You should know that by now, love” he said with a wink.

Cue eye roll.

“Oh thank you so much, what would I ever do without you, Hann? Fuck off.” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. This was never a display of chivalry, it was simply Adams' way of trying to get under your skin. Your stubborn self wouldn't let him, of course. Flashing him an award winning smile, you lay back on your elbows and eye him as he rolls your joint for you.

Matty was preoccupied with gathering enough cardboard so he could sit on the floor comfortably. The three of you couldn't be arsed bringing in furniture from the office, so you were left with the cold, unforgiving concrete floor of the terrace to sit on.

The minutes ticked by and Adam took his sweet time, presenting the spliff with a look of pride. You reach for it, seeing as you already had the lighter in your hand. Instead of handing it to you. Adam shakes his head.

“Girls dont light their own spliffs, either” You scoff at that, though deciding against smacking him upside the head. You hand him the lighter.

Mattys giggles can be faintly heard over your bickering, and Adam finally lights up. The distinct earthy smell fills up the air around you. They both let you have the first drag, stating something along the lines of “Ladies first” another eye roll.

“Fucking wankers”, you mutter under your breath, and finally, you inhale. It hits you almost immediately, a soft, fuzzy feeling that reverberates through your veins into every inch of your body. The two of them let out a laugh at your expression, utterly euphoric.

Adam takes the next drag, hitting him just as hard as it did you. He leans against the glass sliding door, letting his eyes droop closed.

“Fucking hell, this is some strong weed.” He lets out a rough cough, “Where’d you even get it from?”

“Oh y’know, just some guy. Same as always I s’pose,”

Matty spoke “What, d’you shag him or something? No one just gives out this type of premium stuff on a whim,”

This makes you chuck the grinder at him. It hits him square in the chest. You hum contentedly, grinning at him in amusement when he doubles over in pain. You bicker back and forth, calling each other names. Adam passes the spliff back to you, and you take another hit.

Time passes slowly. The clouds slowly reveal more and more of the full moon. It is quite beautiful tonight, you notice.

Adam produces a bottle of tequila from his ‘gay-ass tote bag’ as Ross calls it. You take turns taking swigs straight from the bottle, Matty managing to spill some onto his mesh top, making quite literally everything reek of alcohol.

You felt good. The high mixed with the healthy amount of tequila made you feel like you were floating. You could tell Matty was just as hammered as you, seeing as he was now straddling Adams lap, trying to kiss him.

After multiple attempts at getting him off, Matty stood up on his own, stating that he didn't want Hann to pop a boner au cause de his womanly features.

The three of you laugh and laugh until you finish the spliff. You’d never had a good tolerance for anything, whether it be weed or alcohol. You weren't particularly small, it just always hit you way harder than Adam or Ross. Even Matty managed to pull himself together when the situation called for it. You, however, were stumbling and tripping over your feet the entire walk home. It had been pissing down the entire morning. Puddles littered the streets, not an ideal weather for someone who was too wasted to even have any sort of depth perception.

Adam had to leave suddenly, picking up a last minute shift at the shop he worked at. It was in the opposite direction of where you came from, leaving you and Matty to walk home.

It wasn't a long walk, 30 odd minutes or so. It was made significantly longer by your inability to walk in a straight line to save your life. Echoing laughs filled the streets as Matty helped you trudge along. Your pants dragged on the floor as usual, which meant they were also dragging through the numerous puddles, soaking them.

You stop suddenly, looking down and pouting at the darkened material of your pants. For some inexplicable reason, this made you stomp your feet like a child. Matty broke out in uncontrollable laughter, tears forming in his eyes. You were actually acting like a child.

“I don't know why you insist on wearing those insanely baggy pants. Look at me! My pants don't get wet AND my ass looks phenomenal in skinny jeans” He twirls around you, making you feel slightly dizzy.

“Oh fuck off!! Not everyone is an attention slag like you, have some decency for once in your life!” You retort, shoving him out of your line of sight. Due to your state, Matty quickly catches up to you.

The steps of your house come quicker than expected. Both of you make your way to the east side of the first floor, where your bedroom window remains slightly ajar. You'd wedged an old shirt between it to keep it from closing all the way. You'd gotten sneaking out down to an art, always knowing when, where and how. Your mother had caught you once. It was your first time. You knew not to make those same mistakes again.

Matty helped you hop onto the windows ledge, his hands grabbing at your sides. While he looked frail, Matty was actually quite strong, lifting you up without breaking a sweat.

You're sitting on the edge, slightly taller than him now. Peering down, you reach your arms out. The two of you hugged tightly, whispering quiet “goodnight”s and “sleep well”s. Saying goodbye after a night out often felt strangely melancholic, you never wanted the other to leave.

You've been attached at the hip since that night. He’d convinced you to break up with Phillip, stating he was a bastard who shouldn't be allowed near women ever again.

Matty went on to introduce you to his mates after you’d found out you went to the same highschool. That was nearly 3 years ago now.

Late nights often make you wonder what would have happened if you hadn't gone to that specific bus stop and met Matty. If he had ignored your crying instead of offering you weed and sitting down next to you. He’d always been charming, like a magnet, he attracted everyone around him. Sure, he was a bit pretentious at times, but everyone has their faults.

You roll over and try to sleep, slowly coming down from your high. You made a mental note to take it easy next time, maybe pace yourself. It was hard to know your limits when it came to substances, and Matty was the same way. Adam was the ever responsible one, never too drunk or high, always the parent. You were grateful for him, knowing what situations you'd be stuck in if Adam had not been there to smooth things over.

The tiredness hits you in waves. Glancing at the clock left of your desk, it read 3:26 am. Fuck. You try to ignore the fact that you had to be up in about 4 hours. You close your eyes, welcoming the rest.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

A harsh knocking sounded from the direction of your window, scaring the shit out of you. You bolt up, pissed at the disturbance. Turning to face the window, and are met with a familiar grin. Matty.

It takes all of 5 seconds of him being in your room before you start cursing at him for waking you up like that. He simply shrugs his shoulders and sits in his designated chair. A maroon sofa chair in the corner in front of your bed. It even has M.H carved into the wood, because Matty had some sort of fetish for carving his initials into things. A sign of ownership? It made you wonder.

Shuffling around the room, you kick your still wet jeans off into the corner, instead picking up a denim skirt. You’d wanted to wear that same red top to school, but seeing as you had fallen asleep wearing it, you chucked it into the same corner as the pants.

A pink baby tee caught your eye from the chair Matty was sitting in. You silently point at it and he passes it to you. This isn't the first time you've changed in front of him. It didn't happen often, but what was the point of kicking him out? It's not like he was actively staring anyway.

After quickly changing, you go to put on some makeup. Makeup made you feel pretty, pretty enough to go outside. The only person who sees your bare face regularly is Matty. Maybe George. You didn't go anywhere without it.

You can feel Matty looking at you from the corner of your eye. Raising your eyebrows at him, you ask him what he's staring at.

“D’you reckon i can try some of that?” he gestures vaguely at the eyeshadow brush in your hand “I think i’d look class with my new highlights.” he twirls his hair around his finger, giving you a look.

You look at him skeptically, before breaking out into a smile. Matty smiles back. It's not long before he’s sat in front of you, wincing whenever the brush makes contact with his eyelid. You tell him hes just not used to it, and to just stay still, for fucks sake.

Once you're done, you take a step back to admire your work. You have to admit, he looks good. Really good. His eyes were lined with a dark purple shadow, making them appear slightly bigger. He takes his fingers, slightly smudging the out corners, giving him a catty look.

“I think you might even look even better than me,” you say, looking him up and down. This is one of those rare moments where you can't read Mattys' expression at all. Finally, he opens his mouth

“No one could look better than you, trust me,”

A beat of silence before he speaks again

“I do look ravishing though, d’you reckon Adam'll like this more than the highlights?” He always manages to make himself laugh. Then in typical Matty fashion, he pulls out a beat up looking joint from the pocket of his too tight jeans.

“Fancy a spliff?”

“Matty, for christ's sake, we have school in about an hour, and you want to smoke now?”

“It's the only true way to get through Mr. Henderson's maths class, you know it'll be unbearable if we don't.” translation: please smoke with me. He gives you a look, because you know he's right.

It was too late to protest. He’d already made his way to open your window, knowing how much you hate stinking up your room.

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, and you find your place next to him.

The wind and rain had calmed down, so Matty had no difficulty lighting it. The smell filled your senses, almost overwhelming you. You were thankful for the fresh air.

He placed the spliff between your lips, watching you intently as you inhaled. Your orange lip gloss had rubbed off the filter, and transferred onto his lips. The weed wasnt as strong as last nights, but still, the sight of Mattys glossed lips made you break out into a fit of giggles. Time seemed irrelevant up until the point you had to run to catch your bus. Sweaty and out of breath, you sat down in your usual spot.

You can hear comments and insults being thrown at Matty from the back of the bus, but neither of you paid much mind. Matty was high as a kite, and too loopy (hungover) from the previous night to offer up one of his witty retorts. Instead, both of you gave them the bird from over the seat.

Matty was leaning against you, his arms hooked into yours. Neither of you spoke, listening to the soft rumbling of the bus. You stank of weed, anyone could smell it on you. Remembering a perfume bottle in your handbag, you take it out and douse yourself, as well as Matty in it.

“Oh for fucks sake, now everything smells like Jimmy Choo Illicit!” Matty whined, burying his head in his hands. “Couldn't you have picked a manlier perfume? I'm already walking a very thin line with all of this” He vaguely gestures to himself.

“Would you rather get kicked out after coming to school smelling like a fucking dispensary? Think ahead, Matthew!” He cringes visibly

“No need to get out the full government name, jesus” he shuffles up against you, and you can see his eyes are a light shade of red. There's no way the two of you would get through first lesson unnoticed.

George was already waiting for you guys at your stop. Greeting him with a hug, you try to avoid eye contact, yet somehow, he knows.

“Hey, you alright-?” He cranes his neck to get a better look at your face

“Are you–? Are you high??” He laughs out loud, smacking your arm to stabilize himself. You shoot him a death stare, but you can feel a laugh coming too. Matty let out a sarcastic haha before kicking George as a way to say get on with it, we have class.

The walk to the room through the sea of people in the halls feels like a claustrophobic hell. B.O ridden teenagers rub up against the three of you, some even (quite violently) shoving past.

It's a miracle you make it without Matty losing his mind at one of the hecklers. School was actual hell for Matty, and by proxy, you. Insults were thrown at him without a second thought, and the makeup he’d adorned today surely didn't help the comments.

He never let it truly get to him. He didn't care, and that's what you loved so much about him. This part of the city was set back about fifteen years in terms of acceptance and progressivity, so his flowery backpack and femininity wasn't exactly welcomed.

Adam had always taken the piss out of him for his outfits since they were boys, but he never, ever meant it seriously. They were like brothers, those two, and no amount of shit from other people (irrelevants, as Matty would put it) would be able to break them apart.

The way the room was set up, there were six tables of four, with two people always facing another two. You had sat in the seat next to George, with Matty sitting (well, more like laying) across the other two chairs opposite you. Mr. Henderson had given up on trying to get Matty to sit right a long time ago, instead just flat out ignoring him. It was always easier to fail than to teach.

“Fucking poofter, that one,” you can hear someone saying from behind you. You know they mean Matty.

Matty blows them both a kiss before getting flipped off by the shorter one. He loved taking the piss out of the people who insulted him, throwing them off.

George questions mattys makeup, and you tell him it was his idea. George had always supported Matty, using his insanely tall stature to fend off anyone giving him a hard time.

The lesson was going by at a snail's pace, with Matty being his usual self, interrupting at every possible moment. It was so obvious he was off his tits, and Mr. Henderson looked suspicious. A particularly loud laugh from George had prompted him to throw you all out. You couldn't care less, getting up immediately.

Matty picked up his things from the floor, making a show out of bending over in front of the two boys that had insulted him earlier. They both scrunch their faces in disgust, muttering under their breaths. A giggle escapes you as they stare daggers.

“Fucking cunt,” one of them says, and now it’s your turn to blow them a kiss.

The three of you trudge down the halls, slowly but surely coming down from your highs. George suggests going to Ross and Adams flat, seeing as it's just a few bus stops away from the school. They share a flat above a Sainsburys, which is optimal for late night munchies. Adam even works there, so there's always opportunities to sneak a packet of crisps or a can of cola.

The bus stinks of sweat and mildew, as did all buses in britain. You get used to the stench after a while, your legs propped up onto George and Mattys laps. The back seat was always your favorite, giving you ample space to stretch a bit. You and George share headphones while Matty takes a quick power nap. He always lets you pick the music, and today it was Radioheads ‘No Surprises’. The music plays softly as buildings and trees pass by the window. The day was quite sunny, the light reflecting off of the windows of houses and offices. You'd sobered up enough to be able to think clearly by now.

These days were the best. They felt calm, like you could forget every other fucked up thing in your life. Your mother, your coursework. Nothing else existed in your little bubble except the people you were with. It felt peaceful, like a breath of fresh air.

Matty stirred awake as the bus halted to a stop, yawning for dramatic effect. He loved to exaggerate, ever the performer. George was the quiet, brooding type, trying desperately to go unnoticed, which proved rather difficult. Although he was barely coming up on his 18th birthday, he had grown to a staggering 6 '4, with a voice at least 3 or so octaves deeper than Mattys.

It had proven useful, you aways had someone to send into the smoke shop to buy fags or liquor, even if it always took a pep talk to even get him through the front door. George was convinced he didn't look older, even though he had never been carded. Ever.

Usually it was Adam who bought it for you, even though both Matty and Ross were also already 18. Matty had already been banned from most liquor stores in the area, so he proved rather useless in situations needing a bit of booze.

Mattys violent knocks against the flat door brought you back to reality

“C’MON OPEN UP ITS US,” his voice booms through the hallway. You can hear banging and shuffling coming from the other side of the door. It's so obviously Ross bumping into every available surface because he hadn't turned on the light yet. He was an avid day sleeper, mostly working night shifts. A particularly loud crash is followed by glass breaking.

Matty taps his foot impatiently, waiting for the door to finally open. Ross emerges, looking disgruntled and tired of Mattys shit.

“Mate, tell me, what possessed you to come knocking about at this hour, don't you have school-? I swear you're going to be the end of me one day” he rubs his eyes, getting the sleep out of them before moving out of the way to let the three of you in.

“First of all, it's like 11am, so not exactly the ungodly hour you were describing,” Matty starts “Second of all, we’ve been kicked out of class, so where better to come than here?”

The inside of the flat reeks of cigarettes and laundry detergent. Ross refuses to smoke on the terrace, deeming it too cold even in the middle of summer. Adam always smokes on the terrace, scared of staining the walls like in those addiction documentaries. A futile attempt, but at least he tries. Matty immediately lights a fag, sighing happily when the nicotine hit his system. School had always been an endurance test for him. Getting him to sit still for 2 hours without going for a cigarette proved nearly impossible. He was already itching by the 45 minute mark.

“What did you even do to get kicked out before 12?” He looks at George, who tells him exactly what happened with tears of laughter in his eyes. Matty rolls his before sitting down on the comforter located to the left of the TV, ashing into one of the various ashtrays situated around the house. George sits on the sofa next to Ross, and you make your way to your favorite spot, the table. Sitting cross legged on the table made you all face each other, which you quite liked.

“Brew?” George asks, looking up from his Ipod. Everyone nods, and he gets up to put on the kettle. Idle conversation fills the air, and Matty starts chatting about the new “groundbreaking” Metallica album. Matty was, if anything, a music snob. No one could stop him raving on about albums or artists, whether he was praising or criticizing them. Once he started, you couldn't stop him to save your life.

Minutes tick past when George brings back mugs of tea. Mattys mug has got the words “I ❤️ cum” on it. Ross has his usual Macclesfield Town mug, and you and George have the plain green ones Adam bought in an attempt to make the flat seem somewhat civilized.

Hours pass and Matty finally shuts up. You end up on top of him, sitting on the arms of the comforter. You're all watching Skins on the telly, and Mattys hand makes its way to your back, keeping you steady. He’d always been touchy like that, so it didn't bother you. You look at the sofa and see Ross passed out, drooling onto George's jumper. George, polite as ever, lets him sleep. It was a miracle Ross hadn't started snoring already.

You suggest to Matty that maybe it was time to get going, seeing as you lived on the other side of the city. George's place was right around the corner, so he decided to stay and look after Ross a bit before Adam got home from his shift. Britain's sweetheart.

Getting up as quietly as possible, making your way towards the door. Ross stirs as Matty almost knocks over his mug. The two of you make eye contact, silently laughing at Ross’ position, basically on top of George. He flipped you off, rolling his eyes and reaching for the remote, turning down the telly.

It was still fairly dark inside, so gathering everything proved a bit of a challenge. The curtains were drawn shut, the yellow material of them painting the house in a warm yellow hue.

You had spotted Mattys flowery bag in the corner next to the stove, and grabbed it along with a bottle of cola that was set on top of the kitchen counter. Hydration was important, after all, even if you knew Adam would be livid that you were stealing his shit again. What are mates for?

Matty grabbed both of your coats, mouthing “lets go,” before making his way towards the front door.

The bright light of the hallway burns your eyes. How do they survive coming out here when that fucking flat is always so dark? You think to yourself. You wonder if Ross has a vitamin D deficiency from the inherent lack of sunshine in his life, yourself excluded.

The bus ride home is rowdier, filled with kids from surrounding schools. The both of you hid in a corner towards the front, away from the dickheads that usually sat in the back row. You were both too tired to deal with anyone but each other.

He was right, everything did smell like jimmy choo now, and maybe you shouldn't have sprayed so much.

His hand wanders to his eyes, rubbing a bit of the eyeshadow off.

“Does it still look alright?” he asks, looking up from your lap. It had smudged a bit, melted off after a full day of wear. It's not like you used your expensive waterproof stuff, after all.

“You look fine, pretty actually,” You give him a tired smile, stroking his hair absentmindedly

“Can you even call a guy pretty? Isn't that, like, inherently degrading?” Matty mutters, a grin spreading onto his face.

“It's only degrading if you let it be. You Matthew Healy, are pretty. Pretty like a girl”

A laugh escapes you, imagining Matty as a woman. Knowing him, he’d be into it.

“Does it bother you? Y’know, me being feminine and wearing makeup.” The question surprises you. It's a rare thing seeing Matty this vulnerable. He doesn't care what other people think, but he does care what you think.

“You know I don't care, I actually prefer you this way.” you assure him.

“Though it's still my mission to convince you that the backpack is not the move you think it is.”

That earns you a frown from Matty. “It is! I'll let you know the lady at the store told be it very in this time of year” its always funny watching him get defensive over his fashion choices, even if he knows he’s fucked up and its hideous.

“Yeah maybe it's trendy... for 8 year old girls! But you do you mate, don't let me judge you,” that gets you an elbow to the gut.

The walk home is one you always take together. Arms hooked into each other, walking, sharing headphones. It's your turn on the music, putting on ‘This Charming Man’ by the smiths.

“You know, Morrissey sort of reminds me of you. You're really similar in your campness” Matty choked on air, shooting you a faux offended look.

“Did you seriously call Morrissey camp? He'd have your head for that.”

“You're both attention slags, so there's at least one similarity.” Matty doesn't say anything, knowing your words do, in fact, ring true. Matty loves attention, and man, is good at getting it.

He draws people to him like moths to a flame. Always the loudest, always the most interesting.

That one saying; “You can't be the prettiest girl at the party, but you always be the drunkest” is a personification of Matty. He tips back wine glass after wine glass, not caring about the stains on his shirt or the red ring around his lips. He then makes it a poor Hanns job to make sure he doesnt get into a scrap with three much bigger guys (which actually did happen last summer outside of a pub in london. Matty got out scot free, while Adam nearly suffered a heart attack).

You hug Matty goodbye, giving him a peck on the cheek.

You always dreaded coming home.

They say your biggest critic is your mind, but yours was your mother. You knew she had already gotten a call from the school saying you cut class. The moment you stepped into the living room, the yelling started. “How can you do this” and “What are you even doing with your life” turned into “Look at yourself, you look like a whore and you're going to school like that?” or “Were you out with that little gay boyfriend of yours again?”

You try to tune it out, not letting it get to you. She's been like that for as long as you can remember, never letting up for even just a second. You weren't the best kid, but she sure isn't helping you “get on the right track” as she liked to say.

Tears well up in your eyes when you finally shut your bedroom door. Your first instinct is to call Matty. He picks up after two rings, immediately hearing the quiver in your voice.

He tells you he’ll be there as soon as he can.

Minutes pass by slowly until you hear a familiar, although uncharacteristically soft, knock at your window. Matty.

Your puffy eyes meet his and he can tell you’d been crying. No words were exchanged as he took you into your arms, his hands soothingly stroking your hair as you let out muffled sobs into his chest. It broke his fucking heart to see you like this. You were extensions of each other, the others' pain was always your own.

“It's all so shit. Why cant she just be normal one fucking time.” your voice audibly shakes, partially out of anger and partially out of exasperation.

“I know i suck, I know I'm a bad daughter but-,” Matty cuts you off. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” His words only make you cry harder.

He holds you close, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, the sound of his voice similar to the way he spoke to you that night. His hands feel cold against your skin, and you know he’d rushed to your house without grabbing his coat. You look up at him, seeing his hair was unruly, curls falling into his face. The blonde highlights littered his dark hair and he ran his hand through them, brushing them to the side to get a better look at you.

“D’you want to sit down? We can listen to music. Whatever you want, and won't even comment on how shit it is, promise,” He knew you didn't want to talk about it then, you never did.

You sit in silence, your face still in his chest, staining the light blue material of his shirt. You quietly apologize, knowing how much he loves that shirt. He tells you to shut up, and that it didn't matter.

He had gotten it in Barcelona at some tourist shop for 50 quid. Insane price for a tshirt that just said “Barcelona” on it, but he held it dear to his heart. It reminded him of his childhood summers.

“There's a bottle of um…,” you trail off, gesturing to the second drawer of your nightstand. Matty understands, and reaches over you to open it. The drawer is filled with half eaten granola bars, bracelets, jewelry, the odd vape for when it was too cold to go outside. Matty always took the piss out of you for having them, saying they were ‘so fucking girly it hurt’. After a second of rummaging, he took out a half drunk bottle of Bacardi. It always sat in your nightstand for when you needed it, and you definitely needed it now.

“Only you'd have a giant bottle of rum in your nightstand,” Matty says softly, searching your expression. The corners of your mouth tug upwards at his words, and you crack a smile.

He opens it for you, and grabs an abandoned cup from your desk. The cup he had gifted you on your 17th birthday. It was covered in flowers and stars, very Matty. Very you. Pouring a healthy amount into the glass, he hands it to you.

“To shitty situations” He raises it, clinking it against your cup. He takes a swig straight from the bottle. You down the whole thing in one go, wincing as the alcohol burns down your throat.

“You feel better?” he asks, pouring more into your cup. You nod, before taking another drink. “I just need to get drunk and forget,” you sigh. Matty starts to speak again.

“That's an unhealthy way to go about it. Soon enough I'll be picking you up from corners because you can't handle your liquor. It's a recipe for alcoholism, innit?” you cackle at his words prompting Matty to raise his eyebrows at you.

“Oh come off it!,” How many times have you been so drunk you couldn't find your own dick if you tried. Sort yourself out before criticizing my drinking habits.” you scoff

You decide ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis is the right soundtrack for the night. You lay down next to Matty, your shoulders and thighs touching each other. You look up fondly at the dozens of yellow stars littering your ceiling. Reminiscent of your early childhood, you couldn't bear to take them down. You still felt like a child, your heart yearning for the same innocence you no longer possessed. A distinct naïveté you missed dearly. After your breakup with Phillip you'd realized that the world wasn't all it was cut out to be. People wanted, and they took. It didn't matter to them if they hurt others, because as long as they were satiated, nothing else mattered.

You turn to your left, draping your arm over Mattys stomach. He let out a deep breath, raising his right arm to draw light circles onto your back. His nails had grown out longer than usual, but the sharpness of them was comforting through the thin material of your tank top. The edge of your small twin bed dug into your back.

The two of you laid like that for hours before sleep took over your body. The stars on the ceiling blurred as your eyes started to shut. You let out a soft hum, settling into Matty even more, holding him close.

You don't know how long he stayed, but he was gone when you woke up. You feel a sticky note attached to your forehead, the glue rubbing off on your skin. You could barely read Mattys erratic handwriting. The note read: you fell asleep, hope your hangover isn't as bad as mine. left you some Advil on your dresser xx.

Your hand reached next to you, feeling two tablets. You wash them down with water from the sink. Your cell phone lights up with a text from George

“We’re meeting at Hanns flat, be there in 30,”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The windows were rolled up, trapping the smoke inside. Your eyes were glazed over, barely able to make out Ross’ face in front of you. Watching as Matty took another hit, you made a ‘give it here’ motion at the zoot, prompting him to hand it to you. Rhianna blared through the radio, a far cry from Adams usual taste in music, but no one seemed to care. Even Matty had managed to keep his mouth shut, instead moving his head in time with the music.

Adam was sitting in the driver's seat, as always. He’d never let anyone else drive his girl, not even Ross. He was insanely protective over his car, even if it was an old piece of junk.

George was in the passenger seat, holding a pink, polka dotted ashtray in his hand. The colorful ceramic proved quite the contrast against his dark clothes and messy blonde hair. It was a gift from his older sister, and the only ashtray he ever used.

You were perched in the middle seat, your elbows on the console between Adam and George. Matty sat on your right, and Ross on your left.

“No joke, I once had a bird offer to give me a footjob. Can you imagine that?” Adam spoke loudly, almost too loud. Ross let out a disgusting snort, the mental image of Adam getting a footjob making him properly lose it. You make a face.

“That can't feel good at all, innit? Aren't the soles of feet rough?” you ponder. “Only if you have George's hobbit feet, that is,” Matty said, ducking to avoid yet another lighter being chucked at him. You were going to run out of lighters at this rate.

“I'll show you hobbit feet you fucking cunt,” George retorted, sticking out his tongue like a child.

“I had a girl once who wanted me to properly bite down on her nipples, like hard. Can't imagine how much that would've hurt.” you share. She’d been quite the odd one up until she was in your bed, so you were already expecting some sort of weird kink. Nipple biting was definitely not on that list. Not that you were kink shaming.

George spoke first: “What d’you mean girl? You're telling me you've been with girls?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Erm, yeah? Didn't I tell you-?” Everyone shook their heads except Matty. You had already told him this story months before, the both of you laughing at your misfortune. Smiling at the fond memory, you meet Ross’ eye.

“We didn't know you were like, proper gay,” he says quietly, not wanting to sound abrasive. You suck in a deep breath before answering. “I'm not proper anything, and besides,” you point at Matty sitting next to you, “This one’s snogged loads of blokes.” A collective “What???” fills the car, with everyone's eyes now on Matty.

“What if I have? It's not my job to notify you of all my sexual endeavors, innit?” Matty looks slightly uncomfortable, giving you a look. You frown at him, and he shakes his head. Slight signs of a smile linger on his face. It's fine he mouths at you, resting his arm on your shoulder.

The three of them talk loudly over each other, with Ross asking some very explicit questions on the mechanics of gay sex.

“How do you even, like, properly shag? It's not like you have anything you can shove into the other girl,” Jesus christ.

Matty taps Ross’ shoulder, bringing the attention to his hands. He brings them up to his mouth, sticking his tongue out between the V-shape his fingers had made. Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, the whole demonstration makes Ross visibly cringe.

The car suddenly starts. Adam makes the short drive to Carolines, stating that the hotbox was getting to be too much for him. George has a go at his age, calling him an old man. Hann was in fact, about 2 and a half years older than George, and a solid year older than the rest of you. Old man was right.

You had rolled down the window on Mattys side, hoping some fresh air would help Adams driving skills. The erratic swerving had begun to make you sick.

Finally trugding up the stairs to the terrace, Matty says something about it being too fucking cold. Ross says “That's the price of being built like a male Kate Moss,” and Matty nearly shoves him down the stairs.

It is colder than usual, and you had opted for a dark gray zip up, the material hugging you tightly. You were pretty sure it was Mattys. A pair of green wash jeans hung low, revealing the lightning bolt tattoo on your right hip bone. It was a copy of Bowie's on the cover of ‘Aladdin Sane’. You had gotten it done by another one of your mates, Rome, who was an aspiring tattoo artist. It looked a bit shit, the lines slightly crooked, but it was yours.

You had convinced George and Ross to carry the sofa from the office onto the terrace. They were the tallest and strongest, and Mattys arms would have snapped like twigs if he tried to carry anything, you said to them. George laughed his octave defying laugh, while Ross let out an annoyed grunt, shoving past you.

Adam was right behind them, carrying a small wooden coffee table. “For you- I know how much you hate sofas,” he says quietly. You called him a softy, but inevitably thanked him for bringing it out. He had his rare sweet moments, and you appreciate them

Once you had all settled, you took out your tobacco and papes, starting to roll your first cigarette of the night. You honestly needed a break from all the weed, because jesus.

Matty let out a groan, taking the piss out of you for bringing all that instead of just buying industrials.

“I know you think you're better than us for rolling, it's quite pretentious.” he sucks in a breath before talking, moving his hands erratically “Don't tell me it ‘tastes better’ because that's simply bollocks, it all tastes the same!”

“Pretentious? Her? That's rich coming from someone who raves on about William Burroughs like anyone knows who is!” Matty looks hurt, and you give Ross a look that says you really don't know who William Burroughs is?

The conversation continued without you, too preoccupied with rolling to add anything. All was well until George decided to open his giant mouth again.

“If you're not fully gay,” he started, “how do we know you're not secretly crushing on any of us?” he raised his eyebrows, looking at you expectantly.

You let out a snort, it slowly morphing into laughter until you look at him, his expression deadly serious.

“You can’t actually mean that?” your voice is slightly hoarse. “For all we know, you could be harboring secret affection for Matty with the amount of times you’ve slept in the same bed.”

Mattys perks up at this, shooting George a glare that could kill a man. He told him???

You don't know what came over you. Maybe it was the weed, maybe you were just groggy from the lingering hangover. You lick the cig closed, setting down next to the others. Uncrossing your legs, you get up and walk towards Matty. You can see the grin plastered onto his face, and he is definitely not sober.

You stumbled over Adam's foot, kicking it out of the way. Ross moved away from Matty, giving you some space.

The terrace was dark, but the moonlight illuminated some of Mattys features. Specifically, his eyes. They seemed to glow, following your every step toward him. I'll show you secret affection you thought to yourself when your hand made contact with Mattys face. The stubble on his chin scratched your fingers. He never could grow a beard, and the faint shadow was as long as it would get.

He sat with his legs spread, skin peaking out through the single rip in his jeans. His arms rested on the sofas back, splaying out to the side. He wore a black v-line jumper, the knit of it almost see-through.

The makeup from the previous day was still smudged on his face, giving him a rockstar-esque look. The eyeshadow framed his eyes, glittering in the faint light. Your hands cupped his face, lightly stroking his jaw. The grin had been wiped off his face the moment you had settled between his legs, kneeling on the edge of the sofa.

You didn't think, just moved, your lips smashing against each other. It seemed to take Matty by surprise, and it even took him a second before he kissed you back. One thing nagged at you. Why did you like it?

There was no time to think when you heard George wolf whistle at the both of you.

You want a show, I'll give you a show you thought, slipping in your tongue and taking over the kiss. He seemed into it, but then again, Matty would fuck anything with a pulse. You smile against his mouth at the thought. It suddenly felt hot, even though you were outside. His hand snaked its way into your hair, tugging slightly. This didn't feel platonic. Was it?

“Alright, alright, we didn't sign up for a porno,” Ross says, his hand covering his mouth. You were the one who broke the kiss. Matty let out a soft groan when you parted, loud enough for only you to hear. His eyes pierced yours, and you moved to get off of him.

Your heart thrummed against your ribcage, and you felt dizzy. What the fuck?

You wiped your mouth, your lipgloss having smeared all over your face. Wiping the back of your sticky hand against the sofa, you turned and walked back to your spot on the table.

“See! Absolutely no ‘secret affection’ as George so kindly put it.” you say to the group, going back to your pile of fags, taking one and lighting it. If you had looked at Matty instead of being preoccupied with Hanns bickering about the prissy new manager, you would have noticed a faint shade of red caressing his cheeks. He felt around for his own cigarettes, and took out a pack of parliaments. Spotting the lighter next to you, he reached for it, lighting the cig as he inhaled the smoke eagerly.

It was already half two when the five of you finally piled back into Hanns car. The prominent stench of weed made you scrunch up your nose. You decide to light a cigarette in the car despite various protests and threats to your life if you even dared to ash onto the leather seats. Switching seats with Matty, you ash out the window instead, resting your head against the rim of the car.

Ross and George were having yet another meaningless debate on whether mixing ketchup and mayo was a cardinal sin or totally acceptable. Every other word was an insult, and you knew they would never come to an agreement, ever.

You had already established that you’d be sleeping over at Mattys, saving Adam time and petrol not having to drive both of you home separately. Denise and Tim were out on a press tour, so he had the house to himself.

His room was dark, the curtains drawn shut. If you knew Matty, you knew he hated the big light with a burning passion. Instead, a small lamp was turned on in the corner, illuminating the various posters that littered his wall. Band posters, prints, tapestries, the occasional quote. Everything screamed Matty

His room was filled with so much music. CD’s, vinyls, even the odd cassette tape. His purple record player sat on top of a dresser next to his desk, surrounded by various small trinkets of his. It was his prized possession, a gift from his mother for his 14th birthday.

You had already helped yourself to a cola from his fridge downstair. His house was huge, way bigger than your own. Your parents weren't actors, after all. The walls of his room were stained towards the corners, just another side effect of Mattys near constant chain smoking. His bed was big, and you both fit comfortably on it. The wardrobe next to it had a pile of your own clothes in it, but none to sleep in. Your eyes dart around the room looking for one of his to wear, landing on his bright pink durex t-shirt. He had worn it once to school, promptly getting kicked out of literature class by a very conservative Mrs. Sexton.

Soft music was playing in the background as you unloaded your bag onto Matty’s insanely cluttered desk. Out came multiple pens, makeup, not one, not two, but three lighters, and finally, makeup wipes.

You sat on the ground in front of his full length mirror, wiping at your eyes and face. Matty was making the bed, giving the both of you each your own duvet, a must after too many fights over the blanket. You weren't a peaceful sleeper, constantly tossing and turning, occasionally even kicking Matty in the back.

Washing your face, you hear the bathroom door click open. Matty went and sat on the closed toilet lid next to you.

“Hand me my toothbrush, will you? And some toothpaste.” he asked, stretching his hand out. You do, even wetting the toothbrush for him.

He sat there, brushing his teeth and flipping through a recent issue of playboy while you put moisturizer on, and then a serum.

“I dont get how you can be arsed to put all that shit on your face, it takes way too long,” his comment makes you roll your eyes at him in the reflection.

“Not everyone is naturally blessed with clear skin like you, people like me have to put effort into their appearance, knobhead.” A wave of insecurity hits you as you inspect the acne on your face.

You had been a chronic face picker in your early teenage years, and the consequences of that were gnarly acne scars covering most of your face. They were not prominent, but they were there.

Matty was fortunate enough to have had maybe three zits ever, his clear skin the stuff of dreams.

Matty watches you pick yourself apart in the mirror. He hated when you did that. It made his heart ache in his chest. He wished you could see what he saw. What did he see?

“You’re quite beautiful, really,” he says, making eye contact with you through the mirror. You’re taken aback, not quite sure how to respond. You open your mouth to speak.

“Oh bugger off,” you say, your voice breathy and annoyed. You didn't want to sound annoyed, it just came out that way.

Matty raises both his hands in defeat, and spits the toothpaste into the toilet bowl, flushing. The hairbands sitting on the bathroom counter eventually end up in your hair, holding together two braids on either side of your face. You stare at the mirror one more time, examining yourself. The pink fabric of your (well, Mattys) shirt clung to you like it did Matty. Taking off your bra, you go back into his room. He had changed into a loose Kiss t-shirt and black boxers. The light of the corner lamp helped you find your phone, sitting on the nightstand next to you.

The atmosphere was calm, calm enough that you’d almost forgotten about the kiss. Almost.

Matty reached over to turn the lamp off, lighting a candle for light. Cinnamon.

“You know it's dangerous to sleep with candles lit? We could catch on fire and die,” Matty had rolled over on his side, now facing you. A grin spread onto his face.

“If it kept me from ever seeing Hanns ugly mug ever again, i’d gladly let cinnamon spice scented flames burn me to death,”

You giggle at his words. Poor Adam, always taking the worst of Mattys jokes, if you could even call them that. Accepting his decision to keep the candle lit, you pull the blanket over your shoulders. Your eyes shut and you can feel butterflies in your stomach. Butterflies, really? Jesus fucking christ.

You're scared to open your eyes, scared to even look at Matty. Maybe it was a mistake. He's your best mate. That kiss didn't mean anything, especially not to him.

A million thoughts race through your head, and you shove them into a small corner of your mind. Ignore ignore ignore, it didn't mean anything. He's just some wanker who picked you up at a bus stop three years ago and somehow became your best mate. He's just some guy you share a bed with sometimes. He's just some guy who lights your spliffs for you. He's just some guy who you kissed on a terrace overlooking the city.

Fuck.

#look at me trying to write #cringe #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #drive like i do #matty healy x reader #matty healy angst #matty healy fluff #slow burn #eventual smut #friends to lovers #fallingforyou #dlid #matty healy x you

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toomuchracket · 3 months

Text

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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bellarkeselection · 4 months

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You're Good Together, Man

Anonymous request - Joey's friend comes to town, and everyone's shocked that Joey doesn't like her in a more than friend way. When Chandler gets nervous during a conversation and leaves upset, the reader follows him to see what's wrong.

Tags @lover-of-books-and-tea @rosie-posie08

Walking up the stairs in the building I finally found the right apartment door knocking three times on the door until it opened, revealing Joey, my best friend. "Hey Joe, I finally made it."

"Hey y/n. I can’t believe you could come this weekend. Oh you've got to meet my friends across the hall." He told me closing the apartment door behind him.

Nodding my head, yes I followed him across the hallway. We entered the apartment seeing a few different people all hanging out on the couch. There was a blonde girl, another with black straight hair and finally a third girl with light brown hair. I saw there was one guy that was wearing a bright blue shirt but had similar hair to one of the girls meaning they were siblings. “Hey guys this is my friend Y/n from school.”

“Hey everybody.” I raised my hand with a smile.

The girl with dark black hair came over to me. “I’m Monica, so how do you two know each other?”

“We met when he was first looking for acting jobs. My father was holding auditions when we met. And this guy knows how to have fun watching movies and ordering pizza.” I shrugged my shoulders nudging Joey.

The girl with light brown hair came up and hugged me. “I’m Rachel. So Joey, have you two ever dated or anything?”

“Me and Y/n.” Joey started laughing.

Covering my mouth I couldn’t help but laugh along with him. Joey and I had never considered being in a relationship together. Hitting my hands on my knees I was still laughing. “We would never work out. He’s like a brother to me. Always has been always will be.”

“Yeah. How you doin’ don’t work on her.” Joey replied with a cheeky smile.

The guy that was wearing a blue sweatshirt and sat on the couch spun around joking. “Was it because of your snoring or was it because you're crazy enough to not go out with your friend.”

“I’m not afraid of asking her out.” He replied to the other guy.

Clasping my hand together I sit down at the table. The last guy that looked like Monica came over to me suggesting a nice offer. “Hi I’m Ross, Monica’s brother. Well how about I take you out to dinner while Joey is at his audition.”

“No! You’re with Rachel or whatever is going on between you two.” Joey pointed his finger.

Ross throws his hands away from his side. “What’s wrong with me taking her to dinner.”

“Because you are with Rachel.” He said.

Rachel made a face. “Joey, we’re not together now. I broke up with him a few weeks ago.”

“But then you 're telling us how much you missed him after a few glasses of wine.” The blonde named Phoebe teased her.

Rachel started getting nervous and I could tell there was something going on between them. Joey had told me that he had two friends who had an on and off again thing. “Guys, I don’t like Ross anymore.”

“Sure that’s what they all said before you wake up in the middle of the night and scream oh my gosh I love Ross.”

Ross rolled his eyes. “Not helping Chandelier.”

“Oh sorry I was talking about pizza.” Chandler chuckled at him.

I smiled, shifting my gaze over to the Chandler guy. It had been a while since I had been on a date. Since my father was an actor most of the guys that seemed interested in me were ones who wanted a part in his shows or movies. If they didn’t get the part then I wouldn’t see them again. “Chandler, do you have a girlfriend?”

“Uh no I prefer being alone and horny.” He answered my question by rubbing the back of his neck. “Are you seeing anybody or just pining over Joey?”

Joey throws his hands up. “Stop hitting on her.”

“You’re just denying your feelings for her.” Phoebe smiled.

Joey stomped around the apartment pointing fingers at his two guy friend’s being all dramatic over their teasing on whether or not we had feelings for one another. “There’s nothing going on. You aren’t dating her and you aren’t dating her.”

Chandler got up from the couch walking up to him. “Wait why me. I get Ross but me. Am I so crazy that no girl would go out with me?”

“You and Ross repel women all the time.” My best friend explained before I watched Chandler move past him and shut the door quickly behind himself. Watching the door for a second I don’t know what came over me but I get up to my feet slipping through the door and across the hallway.

Shutting the door quietly I noticed that Chandler was laying on the couch and there was half of a pizza missing from a box on the floor. “Hey, are you open to sharing some of that pizza with me?”

“Actually Joe, I want this pizza for the rest of my life.” He sat up hearing me laugh at his comment. “Y/n, oh sorry sure.”

Kicking my shoes off at the door I went over to him I plopped down on the couch beside him. We ate pizza in silence until I remembered what he had said earlier. “So is this how you get all the girls to your apartment huh. Mistake them for your best friend and then apologize with pizza?”

“Actually, no. I have decided that I would rather die alone.” He replies to me.

Shaking my head I nervously smiled. “You joke a lot.”

“Yeah sorry I started using jokes as a safety measure after my parents got divorced. It works on the ladies at first but here I am sitting with you shoving my face with pizza.”

“Oh you mean like this?” I throw pepperoni at his face.

He shakes his head smiling and throwing some at me. I leaned forward trying to grab a full on slice and throw it across his face. But I fell off the couch when he tried to catch me and we tumbled to the ground together. “Oh geez Y/n.”

“Awe sorry for the mess.” I apologize seeing that we were both covered in red pizza sauce and cheese now laying on the floor with him on top of me. “Crap it’s late and I have to take two different trains to get home.”

Chandler focused his attention onto mine and he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to date you. You had a fun side that was easy to get along with. You didn’t find his nervous joke gag weird. “You could stay here tonight if you want.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude. This is your apartment.” I sat up where he offered me his hands helping me to my feet.

He laid down on the couch with open arms telling me to lay down with him. “I live with Joey. Trust me your company would be less crazy. I’ll even stay up with ya till you fall asleep.” I nodded laying down with him on the couch curling up on his chest. He wrapped his arms around my waist so I wouldn’t fall on the floor and we remained that way until we fell asleep together.

A few hours later the apartment door opened again and Chandler lifted his head up quickly waking up seeing Joey was back. He panicked feeling Y/n fully asleep on his chest so he couldn’t run away like he wanted. “Joe, it’s not what it looks like. I’m not messing around with her I swear.”

“Shhh you’ll wake her up.” Joey raised a hand to his mouth.

Chandler eyed his roommate confused. “Aren’t you mad after you said we couldn’t date her?”

“Nah man. She has been through some bad relationships in the past that’s why I said no to Ross.” Joey smiled reassuringly seeing a smile on your face when she snuggled up against Chandler more. “You two would be good together.”

Chandler went to move his arm shocked that he said the words. In such a short time he had found himself wanting to spend more time with his friend. “You’re not gonna be mad if I ask her out?”

“Ask away brother. Don’t wake her up now..” Joey crossed the room pausing outside his room before leaving the pair alone. That next morning you were more than happy to say yes to a date with Chandler.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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heyidkyay · 1 month

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And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-One

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors Note: This is a long one, it took me a while but hopefully the waits been worth it? EMOTIONS is all I'm going to say.

Warnings: Lots going on- talks of car crashes, alcohol abuse (both in the past) also some previous thoughts on trauma and different coping mechanisms

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

It takes a second for change to implement itself, though it can take a while longer for its realisation to truly hit.

…

I could hear him.

Bustling his way around my kitchen, singing quietly as he worked on the breakfast he’d promised the night before. Tins clattered, the kettle whistled, and the fridge door rattled closed, all whilst I padded my way towards him, pausing in the entryway to simply take in the sight I’d been gifted.

I grinned over at Teddy, who was currently tiptoeing on the wooden stool I had tucked away for whenever he felt inclined to help me cook, and then at Matty who seemed happy enough with making him giggle whenever he chose to lean in close to sing by his ear.

“Thinking this through… It's like, one,”

“..TWO!” Teddy laughed back when Matty pointed at him, beaming brightly at the sight of the man’s all too amused face.

“Yeah, ‘cause I'm in love with you-”

“I-I-I-I!”

It was something I’d never thought to even picture, let alone see, my son staring up at a man with such adoration and pride. The two of them simply belonging. The whole scene made me ache with a wanting for it to never stop, but even the best of things had to come to an end I supposed.

Matty turned, a smile painting on his features, only to pause when he caught sight of me, watching them from the doorway. He narrowed his eyes, then gave me a sly smile, before he placed the plate he’d been holding down on the counter and shuffled on closer, arms stretching out towards me as he continued to sing along to his own song. I mean, the ego on him.

“… I’m in love with you.”

It was hard going, attempting to dampen the grin that pulled at the corners of my mouth, especially when Matty wrapped his arms around my hips and started to sway us to and fro. He raised his brows up at me, fully expecting me to finish off the song for him, so I rolled my eyes and laughed the final line out, accompanied by a much louder Teddy, “I-I-I-I-I.”

Matty leaned in close to press a quick kiss to the corner of my mouth, his tangled hair tickling my cheek. He chuckled lowly to himself when I wrinkled my nose at the feeling and tried to escape from his hold, but did eventually let me go.

“What are you even making?” I asked the pair of them around a fond smile, crossing the kitchen to ruffle Teddy’s curls and open up the little window there. I sniffed lightly. “Did you end up burning something too?”

Matty rolled his eyes at that and shook his head with a tut, before he moved to pick up his plate once more, sliding past Teddy and I to grab at the toast which had just popped up. “No.”

“Liar.” I laughed with Teddy, picking him up and settling him on my hip whilst Matty turned his back on us to start buttering the bread. “What’s with the big breakfast then anyway? I thought you had to record today.” I asked him, praising Teddy quietly for the way he’d spooned some sugar and two teabags into a pair of matching mugs for us.

“Later on,” Matty answered me in a quiet murmur as I peered over his shoulder to nick a fresh piece of toast. “Oi!”

Grinning around the bite I’d just taken, I was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t completely charred. “Better than the last batch.” I told him honestly and with a wry smirk.

Matty just shook his head at me, but even as he turned back to the task at hand I could see the tiny beginnings of the smile he wore. “Said I could cook.”

With a sarky hum, I could only reply, “Does toast even count as cooking?”

I was simply swatted away with a tea towel in hasty retort and Teddy squealed, wriggling to be let down.

“Okay, okay!” I relented with a laugh of my own before I slid on over to press a grateful kiss to the side of Matty’s neck. “It’s very good, merci mon amour.”

I pulled away with a grin when I felt him tense beneath me, gesturing to Teddy for him to go ahead and grab the milk for us from the fridge whilst I began to pour the hot water into the tea he’d started.

“What are you up to today then?” Matty asked after having cleared his throat, tossing the butter-covered knife into the sink before he looked over at us. He thanked Teddy proudly when the little monster hurried back from dumping the tea bags in the bin to point at the man’s given cup. “Lifesaver!”

Teddy giggled happily.

Matty’s question had me chewing on the inside of my cheek as I went about lifting Teddy into his usual seat at the kitchen table and laying a plate in front of him. I smoothed down his tousled hair and didn’t quite look in Matty’s direction when I finally said, “You know, the usual… Quick trip to the shops, phone mum, speak to Finn, maybe pop into the park. I hear they’ve put in this new little greenhouse by the pond, you know, just across the bridge?”

I’d thrown it in there, hoping that he might just brush over it. But then Matty didn’t offer me an answer of any kind, so with nothing else to occupy myself with I slowly peered over to where he still stood, propped up against the kitchen counter.

He was staring down at the bowl of fruit he’d prepped sometime earlier, almost as though the grapes had suddenly grown legs and the banana pieces had turned purple. I sighed quietly to myself and felt my shoulders drop an inch before crouching down to whisper in Teddy’s ear, “Go turn on the tele for me, yeah? We can eat on the sofa today.”

Teddy’s entire face lit up at the very prospect and was so eager in his haste to hurry into the living room that he almost toppled out of his chair. I chuckled in fond exasperation, helping him down and handing him his plate with a quiet caution before allowing him to run off.

It was then that I turned my attention back to the main issue at hand.

We hadn’t spoken much of Finn and what had happened back at the studio. I’d given Matty his space after it had all gone down, allowed him the time to mull it over and hopefully forget the words that had been said, but I knew that had mostly been wishful thinking on my part.

Still, I was kicking myself for it now. We’d been good. Things had really been looking up; at work and at home, with Teddy and Matty, and then with Matty and I. Stupidly, I had thought that this might just be something we could have simply plastered over and left to settle, because admitting to the fact that things weren’t alright between two of the most important people in my life just wasn’t something I was ready to face yet.

I’d been selfish in that regard though, it seemed. Because of course Matty had taken the brunt of it all and pretended to shrug it off like it was no skin off of his nose. Leaving me to realise all too late just how much this whole thing had affected him.

“Matty.” I called to him softly before I gently rested my hand on the crook of his arm, testing if I was welcome. When he didn’t immediately shy away from my touch, I slid in behind him so that I could press my forehead to the curve of his back, to where that little dip in between both of his shoulder blades resided.

Thoughtlessly, my fingers trailed over the hem of the jeans he’d thrown on that morning, toying with the two belt loops which sat at the very centre.

We stood there for a long moment in the quiet space of the kitchen, the food going cold but neither one of us really caring. It was only when I felt some of that tension finally ebb in his shoulders that I slowly wound my arms around his middle, smiling slightly when I felt his hands take hold of mine at his front.

“I hate this.” I admitted to him, voice so faint it was muffled by the fabric of his t-shirt. His fingers squeezed my own.

“I know.” He told me after a small pause and I felt him raise his head to gaze out of the small window sat opposite. “I know, Squeaks. Me too.”

I squeezed back.

“I’m sorry we haven’t spoken about it either. That I let it fester. I just wished, hoped even, that you might not linger too much on it, that things would- I don’t know, just end up working out. But I was stupid.”

Matty heaved a weighted breath and I let my eyes slip closed at the motion before he carefully turned in my grasp. He stopped to stare down at me, lifting a hand to tuck a strand of stray hair behind my ear, thumb brushing over a whitened scar I had yet to hide with makeup.

“Don’t. There’s no need.” He murmured to me, though his gaze was focused on the slow movement he’d just made. “Talk to him. He’s your mate, it’d be weird if you didn’t. But, I don’t know. Reckon I just might need some time. That alright?”

I was already nodding before he could even finish his sentence, more than okay with that. “‘Course it is. Though I don’t know much about talking with him, I’m betting on a screaming match. I’m still fuming with how it all went down.”

Matty gifted me a soft chuckle, and although it was hollow he had tried and that was what mattered most to me. It would take time to move past this, I could understand that. “Let him explain first, yeah?”

I frowned, brow pinching with it. “What do you mean? What’s he got to explain?”

He smiled, one of those soft dopey ones of his, the kind he often gave me whenever I’d said something silly or he was humoured by my confusion. “I get it, Mouse.” He sighed quietly, “I don't like how he went about it, it was cheap, shitty even, but he was just looking out for you, babe.”

My frown deepened and I didn't care to give his words much thought. “There’s looking out for me and then there's being a massive prick, Matty.”

With a huffed breath of a laugh, Matty trailed his thumb down my jaw to skirt over the bottom edge of my lip. His eyes finally met mine. “He went about it the wrong way, but he’s been good for you, baby. Looked after you and Teds for years, got you through some hard times, and so for that I give him a little leeway.”

My expression softened.

Matty’s fingers pinched my chin as he coaxed me back up to meet his gaze.

“Do that for me?” He asked, and who was I to say no to an ask like that?

Instead of answering him though, I simply leaned in and kissed him sweetly, cradling his jaw in my hands so that I could thumb over the tops of his cheeks. I wondered, momentarily, where I’d gotten so lucky.

–

A kid in the studio had both its perks and disadvantages, Matty had soon come to see.

Squeaks had been messaging Finn not long before he’d gone to set off, slowly pulling out some clean clothes from the ever growing pile he kept adding to each time he went round to her flat, whilst Teds completed his phonics, sat on the bed.

He’d kept calling out to Matty whenever he’d stumble onto the next, asking him to sound it out for him before trying to memorise it himself. Matty had enjoyed it- enjoyed all the time he spent with the little monster as a matter of fact- but helping him with the lessons he knew that Teddy would soon carry on further into his life… He didn’t know, it just settled something within him. Made him feel needed.

He hadn’t ever felt much of that.

Anyway, Squeaks had come into the bedroom just as he’d been tugging on a jumper, one she had said she’d liked the last time he’d worn it, and mentioned that she had to get ready to drop Teddy off round Adi’s so that she could head on over to meet Finn.

Matty had tried to keep his expression fairly neutral each time she mentioned the man. Because he hadn’t lied earlier when he’d asked for her to give her mate the benefit of the doubt. But it still irked him. The whole situation did, in truth. See because he knew that he was running on fucking borrowed time here with her. He’d never claimed to have been a lucky man either, so he knew that something was bound to happen sooner or later. He was merely praying that he’d be able to hold onto this small bubble of peace he’d found for himself for as long as he possibly could.

Teddy had appeared put out by the fact that he would have to head on over to Adi’s, who still lived with her elderly grandmother. All pouty and sweet looking, proper cute in actuality, and Matty had honestly gone and spoken before his mind had even had a chance to catch up with his massive mouth.

Mouse had been just as surprised by his offer to let Teds tag along with him down to the studio, spilling out claims that it would be fine with the guys (who’d yet to even meet the tyke) and that they weren’t actually working on anything too big that afternoon (just recording the ending of a session). And even though Matty hadn’t exactly asked the lot of them beforehand either, he figured it to be true enough.

And with the relief that had visibly fallen off of Squeaks at his reassurance, Matty hadn’t had it in himself to regret the offer. So with that, he’d set to helping her get Teddy ready for the day and then headed out the door.

Thing was though, the last time he’d ever gotten the tube with a little kid had been years before when his mum had visited with Lou. And back then she’d been the one to worry over his every move, not wanting to lose him in the crowd or have him swept under a carriage. Gruesome yeah, but it was a real fucking fear Matty realised.

This time around it had been his turn though, and God, did he feel sorry for all the shit he’d given his poor mum throughout the years. Was this why parents looked so tired all the fucking time?

Teddy was good enough though, curious sure, always asking questions and pointing at everything, but he listened, held onto his hand and didn’t ever wander off. He’d enjoyed counting the stops on the train too and didn’t think much of the few stares they’d gotten on the platform and again when they’d sat down.

By the time they’d made it to the studio, Matty had felt as though he’d just gone and ran a half marathon.

It was only when Teds had crowded into his trouser leg upon first walking through the entrance that he realised that this was just as new to Teddy as it was to him, and the fact that he was now being forced into an unknown setting probably didn’t make things much easier for the kid.

Still, he had managed to perk up on the small tour Matty had given him. Wanting to ease his nerves before they ventured much further, it had just been the two of them wandering the halls aimlessly and simply nodding or smiling at the very few people who passed them by.

It was only once Matty had figured it time to head into the room the band usually booked did Teddy quieten again.

“Where’ve you been? Only texted you like twenty times!” Matty heard George huff from around the short corner they were hidden behind after he’d called out to let them know that it was just him.

Matty paused by the door to cast a glance down at Teddy, but the kid was already looking at everything the walls had to offer; the big plaques with the even bigger names, the posters and many album covers that dotted the dark paint. It was only when Matty crouched down to level with him did Teddy glance back.

“You alright, monster?” He asked quietly, wanting to give Teds a second to wrap his head around things. Matty noted that he was back to chewing on his lip again, eyes wide and unsure, but Teddy gripped onto the hand Matty silently offered him.

After a moment, Teddy nodded at the question and Matty gave him a hopeful smile. “Good, ‘cause imma need you to kick this sorry lot into shape for me, alright? I mean, I know I’m good but they can’t just depend on me for everything, can they?”

He was gifted a quiet giggle, one which eased Matty’s mind a tad.

“Matt!”

Matty rolled his eyes at the shout of his name then shook his head mockingly at Teddy, who seemed to have jumped a bit at the beckon. “Told you, didn’t I?” He tutted playfully to the boy, rolling his eyes too for added effect, “Fall apart if I’m not here.”

Teddy was back to smiling now, “Like mum.”

Matty laughed at the comparison, certain that Squeaks would say that she had a much harder job with the show than he did here in the booth. But Matty wasn’t too inclined to disagree, she worked far too hard in truth.

“Exactly, mate.” He replied anyway, then nodded in the direction of the many voices that were bouncing their way towards them, watching as Teddy peered round him once more, “You think you’re gonna be okay?”

Teddy blinked and then looked over towards him, it was in moments like these which Matty saw just how much he resembled his mum, he reckoned it was those big eyes of theirs that held so much emotion.

“Yeah.” The boy finally breathed out and so Matty squeezed his hand just once in support, before lumbering back to his feet. He stole a quick breath for himself and then started leading them both further inside.

George was stationed where he always was, by the decks, surrounded by laptops and many a monitor. Ross was sprawled out on the beanbag they’d lugged in on day three, fiddling with the bass he held in hand. Hann, however, had chosen to sit nearest to the door and so he was the only one to glance upon at their nearing footsteps.

Matty watched on as a flash of surprise flickered across his mate’s face. Brows rose and a slow blink was seen before Adam finally smiled, looking every inch the father Matty knew him to be.

“Just who might you be then?” Hann greeted cheerfully whilst tucking his mobile back into his trouser pocket. He didn’t make a move to get up off the settee corner though, something which Matty felt immediately thankful for, it seemed neither of them wanted to crowd the kid just yet.

It was with that greeting though that Ross’s head finally shot up and George turned to face them in his big fancy chair. The pair of them flicked both alarmed and shock filled gazes to Matty, who did his very best to ignore their all too familiar mugs.

“This is Teddy.” Matty acknowledged, crouching down once more so that Teds could lean further into his side whilst his wide eyes surveyed their way about the rest of the room. Matty wondered what it must’ve felt like for him, struggling to recall moments from his own childhood when his mum and dad had brought him along to their interviews to sit in the audience.

“Teddy love, these three doughnuts are my mates. You remember, the ones I’m in a band with?”

Matty let Teddy have a second, waiting quietly as the little boy dragged his gaze back towards him with parted lips, he blinked and then nodded, hands wringing the sleeve of Matty’s jumper.

Matty merely smiled, bringing the kid in closer to press a quick kiss to his head of hair. “Look, Teds. See that one there, with the funny face? That’s Hann.” He was delighted to hear Teddy’s soft laughter, however muted it was, even as Adam scolded him with an unimpressed glare. “Then in the corner there, that guy?” Teddy dipped his chin, eyes trained on the bearded bloke who was grinning away like a twat, “That’s Ross, he looks like a giant but cries when he’s hungry.”

“I do not!” Ross shot back scathingly, narrowed eyes pointed at Matty which only proved to fuel Teddy’s quiet chuckles.

“Yeah alright, MacDonald.” Matty ignored whatever else Ross attempted to say after that, rolling his eyes theatrically towards Teddy before he gestured over to where George was sitting in his chair, pushing those pretentious sunglasses he often wore up onto his shaved head. “And that one there, that’s G.”

Teddy leaned in close again to whisper in Matty’s ear, “Drums.”

Matty chuckled despite himself, loathing the fact that of course Teds would have remembered the drummer. Most did. “Yeah, mate. That’s him.”

George quirked a brow at the hushed conversation shared but said nothing on it, at least not then. Instead he just waved Teddy on over, “You want to come see? Got a ton of buttons you can press.” He added as though he was trying to entice the kid.

Matty dampened the mirthful grin that crawled up onto his face when it seemed to work though, even as Teddy tugged him along by their joint pair of hands.

By the time Matty finally got around to stepping into the booth to record a few verses a while later, Teddy felt comfortable enough to wait for him just outside the door with the three giant idiots he’d left him with.

–

A stalemate.

That was where we were currently sat.

Even with everything that had gone down, him starting this whole mess, I had been the one to go to him. To his loft where he worked most days when he wasn’t with clients, or visiting galleries.

Finn had welcomed me in with his usual hello through the intercom, buzzing me up into the building and then meeting me just past the front door. He’d been kitted up when I’d entered, still in his apron and covered in paint, the latter of which he was trying to wash off when I first spotted him.

He’d had the kettle already going and he smiled slightly after asking me how I’d been. I’d been truthful, said that I was doing good- all things considered.

There’d been an awkward pause at that, the two of us unsure on where we should then go with the encounter, but the kettle had whistled and on instinct I had turned to grab the mugs.

He had nodded gratefully, but then gestured me over to where his colourful sofa sat by the large open bay windows, joining me with two steaming brews not a minute later.

“How’s Teds?”

I licked at my lower lip at the question, peering into the still swirling mug. “Good, on Easter break soon enough.”

“What have they been working on then?” Finn asked next, because we both knew this was a safe topic, an easy starter.

“Phonics at the moment,” I replied with a small smile that couldn’t quite be helped, recalling the way Teddy had puttered around after Matty this morning calling out each sound he’d needed to learn. “He sounds them out after breakfast most days and then again at night.” We shared a brief smile, before I mentioned, “Matty’s been helping too.”

Finn hummed.

I pressed my lips together to keep from blurting out everything I wanted to say at the sound of it, attempting to stick to the plan I’d formed on my way over here. Letting Finn open up on his own, rather than come in all guns blazing.

“How is that going then?”

My brow pinched as I peered over at him from across the settee, “What, with Matty and I?”

Another hum, though this one was accompanied by a slight nod.

I was wary of how to answer Finn, especially after having learnt what the man truly thought about our whole relationship, but figured I should at least be honest.

“We’re happy.” I love him. “He’s good for me, I think.” It terrifies me. “He brings out a part of me that I haven’t seen much of since- I don’t know, maybe my first year of uni?” I let go of a breathy chuckle, picking at the wrinkled hem that sat at the knee of my jeans. “It’s been, really nice.”

When I chanced a glance back up, it was only to find Finn already looking back at me, his expression carefully set, almost as though he was trying to suss out any sort of lie in my answer. I waited a second and then he smiled. Nothing less than genuine, and I felt my whole body relax at the sight of it.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted.” Finn spoke softly, placing his cup down on a side table to slide on a tad bit closer. He rubbed at the back of his wrist before settling his hands in his lap, “I shouldn’t have gone about it the way I did, I just- You know I care so much, Mouse. And this is me in no way asking to be let off the hook or anything of the like, but, you have to remember I was there through it all.”

Frowning slightly at his words, I followed Finn’s prior motion, putting my own mug down so that I could pull a leg up under me, settling nearer.

He let go of an exhale, “I was there when you found out about Teddy, I was there before that and then after. I saw the line of broken hearts you left in your wake, chasing this thrill you sought so hard to find, and all of the games you wanted to play.”

He took my hand then and I just let him, thinking on his words, on how it must have seemed to someone else looking in from the outside. I knew I’d been a right mess after leaving home.

In truth, I’d been a mess since the night of the accident, when my whole world had been flipped on its head, turning me into this scarred little kid. Leaving me not only alone, but wanting to chase after everything I felt I’d missed out on because of it the second that I’d gotten the chance. Which had meant finding friends and casual sex, bar hopping and clubbing for days on end, looking for the next best thing to simply entice or excite me.

Finn had been there.

He’d been there through most of it, if not it all. He had watched me jump from guy to guy, get my stomach pumped at the local A&E, not just once but three times. He’d been the one I had turned to in my lowest moments, when I’d felt dirtied, when I’d just wanted to cry, or to merely laugh. He was there.

I could understand what Matty had meant now.

‘He looked after you and Teds for years, got you through some hard times, and so for that I give him a little leeway.’

“I can still picture your face, you know.” Finn murmured, stare fixed on the tight hold I now had on his hand. “That night you turned up at mine after finding out that you were pregnant. You looked a fucking state, soaking wet from the rain and wearing only your pjs.” We shared a light chuckle that echoed before drifting off. “It broke me, to see you like that.”

“I know.” I whispered in a rasp, emotions clinging to the back of my throat.

Finn only smiled sadly. “But it worked out. Enough that you seemed happy enough with what you had. And I know that Teddy will always be enough fro you, but you deserve so much. You deserve to live and to love, to have that family you’ve always dreamed of.” I went to protest but he just shook his head, “I know it’s what you want, Mouse. You don’t have to say anything for me to notice the looks you give other parents in the park, or the kids who meet their mums and dads in the school playground. I can see how much you want that, and not just for Teds. But for you too.”

I swallowed thickly, feeling all too seen suddenly.

Finn squeezed my hand, forcing me to meet his gaze once more. I hadn’t even realised I had shied away. “Does he do that? Does he give you that hope?”

The inside of my cheek had practically been bitten raw these last few days, but it didn’t stop me from chewing on it again as I looked over at Finn with a watery stare. “I think so.”

With a slow, albeit fond, tilt of his head, Finn hauled an arm over my shoulder to crowd me into his side. The two of us huddled in close on his artsy sofa that would look so out of place anywhere else.

I smiled at the thought.

“If he means that much to you, then I’ll make up for what I did. What I said.” Finn reassured me, his voice quiet in the large expanse of his loft. I hadn’t actually expected it to go this way. “But I do want to know. I want to make sure that he knows that he’s not just getting you out of this, that Teddy isn’t a deal breaker here. That he’s grown enough to understand the implications and repercussions of his life and whatever the fuck goes on with it. That he is clean-”

I opened my mouth, guard jumping right back up. But Finn just tucked my head under his chin, hand gripping at my shoulder enough to keep me there with him.

“Sobriety is hard. I understand that. When it finally comes to light that he actually is with you, that means Teddy too, and it’ll be a fucking mess. I want to make sure that he won’t fuck up and throw it all away the second shit gets hard.”

Inhaling, I could only nod. I knew what he meant, it was something I had thought about an awful lot. Too much in fact, I’d worried enough over it that I was still so wary over whether or not to broach the topic with Matty himself. But I hoped, for the first time in a long while.

And that had to be enough for now.

–

Finn’s had been an emotional affair, but not a place I’d lingered too long after our initial apology. We both still needed some time to process and to lick over our wounds.

I’d been more than thankful for it though, it had been a real weight off of my shoulders in truth, because knowing that there was a chance to move on past it without having to pick and choose, or divide my time, was something I hadn’t really held out hope for.

I was a pessimist at heart.

But that being said, I’d been quite optimistic about Teddy’s few hours spent with Matty- alone. Which should’ve been daunting in retrospect, insane even, and had probably once been, but Matty had quickly come to prove himself not only to me, but to Teddy too. So although I’d been cautious, I hadn’t necessarily been quick to stamp out the idea.

The last little excursion the pair had been on without me had gone down a treat, with Teddy having been tuckered out and fast asleep the second he’d gotten into bed, and Matty having bonded further with him somehow.

Then there had been the whole ‘I love you’ mess.

And God, if anyone would’ve told me that I’d have been the one to say it first I would have laughed in their face. Cackled loudly enough to be heard three streets over and on the very urge of wetting myself. But then exactly that had happened.

The words had been lingering in the corners of my mind for a few weeks before last night. Tittering, almost. Having started popping up around Christmas time, with the unannounced gift giving ceremony we’d shared and the incredible bond Matty seemed to have formed with my son. And had then settled in not long after that demo I’d received and the midnight visit where Matty had turned up at my doorstep in a downpour.

I hadn’t loved.

Not really.

I’d loved people, friends and family. Sure.

But someone to keep? Someone that I could call mine?

No, that had never really felt like much of an option for me. And Matty… he’d sort of come out of nowhere, hadn’t he? This mess of a man, but so very wonderful in his own way. He had really crept up on me, and looking back it almost felt as though it was bound to happen. Us, I meant. It felt strange to imagine it any differently.

Messages now

I’m here! Come get me, it’s freezing!!

It didn’t take long before his telltale pop of curls emerged from the main entrance to the same studio I had found him perched outside of during the aftermath of the big mishap with Finn. It almost felt like coming full circle with our decision to have me meet the pair of them here after just having talked with Finn.

Matty’s grin was infectious as we moved to meet one another in a quiet hello, his arms catching themselves around my middle whilst I buried my face into the curve of his shoulder.

He was warm, that was my first thought even as he pressed a chaste kiss to my head, enough so that I didn’t mind the fact that he kept me tucked up under his arm as he pulled away to lead us back inside the building.

“You get here okay?” Matty asked me once the door had rattled shut behind us, his voice travelling in the sparse lobby like area I’d yet to get acquainted with.

Humming, I answered his question with a nod, “Yeah, walked most of it, Finn had a client call out of the blue.”

Matty’s cheeks hollowed a tad but he hummed too before tilting his head over to the right, we started to walk that way. “It go alright then?”

I let go of a heavy breath, eyes surveying every inch of the studio as we wandered further inside, “As well as it could have, I ’spose. It’ll take time, I reckon, though he wants to make it up to you, too.”

Matty appeared to blink at that, the words seemed to have caught him by surprise, but he didn’t falter in his wandering, leading me down a narrow walkway.

“Are you up for that?” I pushed.

He wet his lower lip in thought, dipping his head at a maintenance worker who passed us by before looking back at me. “Told you, I’d give him a little leeway. But I wanna know more about what you spoke about first. If that’s alright with you.”

I was nodding away before he could even tack that last bit on, “Of course, I wouldn’t think not to, in truth.”

I was gifted a sweet smile and quick peck to the cheek before Matty paused, his hand catching on the handle to a heavy door. Soundlessly we slipped past it, Matty closing it slowly behind us to stop it from banging against its hinges and alerting the rest of the room’s occupants to our sudden arrival. Not that it would’ve been all that easy a task, what with the noise that consumed you the second you entered.

Matty smirked at the look that must’ve crossed my face at the sound before he held a finger to his lips, signalling me to keep quiet. I rolled my eyes but took the hand he held out towards me, the two of us creeping over to the corner that gave way to the real chaos that greeted us beyond.

First thing I took notice of was the loudmouth four year old who had seemingly taken charge of the band’s rehearsal, a sight which had me biting my lip to muffle my sudden hysteria.

George was seated by a stretched desk full of slides and buttons, elbows rested on the tops of his thighs whilst he listened animatedly to Teddy’s thoughts on whatever he had Ross and Hann tinkering about with.

The latter two were just holding onto their instruments, Ross stood with his bass and nodding along to what strings Teddy pointed at, whilst Hann was told to ‘look happier’. Something Matty had immediately snorted at, endlessly amused by Adam being told to liven up by a kid who’d only been out of nappies for a little over a year and a half.

The snort seemed to catch George’s attention though because his head shot over at the sound, which in turn forced the rest of the room to follow.

I heard Teddy’s gasp before he came bounding over, wearing a pair of sunglasses that probably cost more than my monthly rent.

“Alright, lovie?” I laughed, swiping up an excited Teddy before he could barrel straight into my legs. “You been having a good time?”

Teddy’s enthusiastic nod was enough to assure me of that but then Ross spoke up, “Should hope so, been hounding me to get this bassline right for ages, ain't you, mate?” He smiled at the giant grin he received in turn before nodding over towards me, “He’s got a proper good ear though. Should get him into it soon, especially if he likes it.”

Blinking, I could only look back down at Teddy, who was now informing Matty on everything he’d missed out on in the sparse moments he’d been gone in a tangent like ramble.

George sniffed as he made to walk on over to us which forced me to glance up again. Hann had started to take off his guitar strap whilst Ross went back to fiddling with his strings once more. Seeingly wanting to get whatever he was working on down before he had to leave for the day.

“He’s a good kid.” George commented to me, watching on as Teddy reached out to be taken by Matty, the man not even second guessing the motion of catching the boy under his arms and settling him on his hip. “And Ross ain’t wrong either. He seemed to really enjoy himself, had him messing about with the console for a bit and Matty even got him to play a couple chords on the guitar for us.” He chuckled lowly, a soft sort of smile breaking up his typically stoic features.

“Hope he wasn’t too much for you guys, Matty reckoned you’d all be alright with him tagging along but I didn’t even think to double check.” I mentioned, eyes caught on the way Teddy was now so enthralled by the story he was telling both Matty and Hann, arms stretched out wide as he exaggerated something or other.

George was shaking his head when I glanced back at him, “It was nice. Having him here, but seeing Matt with him too.” George’s mouth thinned when he lifted a hand to tug on his ear, “I didn’t think he could be like that. It’s strange, him letting someone else hog the limelight whilst he’s sat on the outskirts.”

We both shared a fond chuckle, because I could see what he meant but also, “He’s taken to Teddy better than I expected, really. It’s something I’m most thankful for, as well as the fact that Teddy seems to really like him too.”

My smile was warm, I could tell, and when George caught a glimpse of it I got to watch him almost mimic the gesture, as though he was thankful for it all too.

“You’re good for him.”

My breath caught a little at that, but I kept on smiling as I peered over at Teddy and Matty who were giggling between themselves whilst Hann, and now Ross, had seemingly taken to shaking their heads at the pair in indulging amusement.

“He’s good for me.”

…

The walk home from the studio had been spent hand in hand. The three of us just padding along the narrowing pavement, Matty more often than not trailing alongside the curb so that we could keep it up.

Teddy seemed to enjoy it though, even more so when Matty and I had started up a game with him, lifting him up off his feet so that he could swing back and forth in midair for a few brief moments.

By the time we’d made it home we were all just content to find something to eat and curl up in front of the tele, me listening to Teddy tell me all about his day with Matty whilst Matty pulled my feet into his lap.

He put Teddy to bed not long after, upon the boy’s sleepy request, and had returned about fifteen minutes later, having read a story and bundled Teddy up under his duvet covers. It had been then that I’d gotten to tell Matty more about the conversation I’d had with Finn, rehashing his words and even delving a little deeper into my past with him.

“How long have you known him again?” Matty asked me, thumb trailing back and forth over the jut of my knee whilst the tv played on low.

“Only since the first year of uni.”

Matty appeared quite surprised by that, he said so too. “Seems like longer.” I grinned tiredly at his musings, eyes squinting with it as I leant further into his side.

“It does a lot of the time, but sometimes it doesn't. Wasn’t lucky enough to have been gifted a group of bandits and made to start a band.” I teased, not unkindly, appreciating the way his hand travelled up to run his fingers through my hair. I peered up at him, “They’re all so lovely, you know.”

He answered me with an airy titter, the sound soft enough not to echo out of the living room and down the hall to where Teddy slept, “You’ve never been on tour with them, sweetheart.”

I laughed then too. “Maybe, but Teddy likes them. And I like them too.”

“I’m glad.” Matty whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. When he pulled away, I moved to capture his hand in my own. “You have anyone like that?”

I shook my head minutely, not wanting him to disturb his position, “No, wasn’t in school long enough to make any lasting friendships and then I guess when you reach a certain age it always feels a little harder.”

A quiet swept over us then and I took the time to simply admire the few tattoos Matty's forearms held; the passport number, the box, the postcode on his inner elbow.

“Was that because of what happened?”

His voice was cautious, which was unusual for Matty and more than likely the cause which had me peering up at him, rather than his ask that had gone and broken our peaceful bout of silence.

My nose wrinkled, “What, with my scars?”

Matty gave a soft hum of assent, watching me from under a careful gaze, obviously anxious not to overstep or force my hand on the matter. I smiled at his care and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, it shook me a lot. I mean, I spent weeks in hospital and then after that, I was on strict bed rest whilst at home.” I explained to him, fingertips trailing over the faint grooves in his palm. “I was homeschooled for a long time too and when I did finally go back, well most of my class didn’t much care for me beyond the horror story they’d been told. It grew old quickly enough though, but even so it was hard to connect with people beyond the basic level.”

Matty’s thumb had begun to trail over the skin of my wrist, settling once or twice on my pulse point before going back to stroking again. “What did happen? I mean, only if you’re alright with saying anything about it, I know sometimes shit can still be hard.”

I breathed out an airy chuckle, turning my head to hide my enamoured smile in the wrinkle of his jumper. “I don’t mind. I don’t like mentioning it with strangers much, which is why it’s not really public knowledge unless you go digging. But it was a car accident.”

I felt Matty tense beneath me but his touch didn’t stray, only became that bit bolder, the hand in my hair coaxing me to glance up at him so that he could kiss me sweetly, nose nudging at the curve of my cheek before withdrawing. I hummed happily.

“My dad was with the local police. High up, but a drinker. Only started though after this one case, and then it spiralled. My mam worked night shifts sometimes at the hospital, which was a good way away from where we lived, so it would just be him and me until she got home.”

I took a breath, realising it had been quite sometime since I’d actually spoken about the crash, or even thought of it really. The scars were a constant reminder, yes, but the crash itself was something that had occurred almost two decades ago now, so I’d had time to sort of come to terms with it. As much as I could.

Not to say that it still didn’t wear at me, it had been a big event in my life, changed things in more ways than one. Because it had also been the spark which had sent my dad packing.

“It’d been raining that night, I remember ‘cause the water had been leaking in from under the backdoor. My dad had sworn up a fucking storm when he’d noticed it but could only really stick a couple towels down, claiming that he’d fix it on his next day off.”

A light chuckle escaped me at the vivid memory my mind made up, his tall figure, the odd phrasings he would use, but nothing of real substance. I couldn’t quite recall his face, or the depth of his voice, seeing as I hadn’t looked over old videos or photos we had since I’d visited mum back home.

“It had been a bad storm, had the tides reaching the cliff peaks if I remember rightly. Which meant that the hospital had started to flood, at least the north ward where mam had worked.” I continued, enjoying the delicate caress of Matty’s thumb as it trailed up my arm, “She’d been sent home after they’d managed to move most of the patients on the ground floor westward, but her car broke down about a mile out.”

I could hear the call even now, the sound of my dad’s heavy footsteps when he’d come to wrap me up in a coat, murmuring that we had to go and pick her up.

“The winds picked up, I guess. Dad didn’t have a car seat, that was what we used mam’s car for. So he just sat me in the front seat before setting off.”

Matty’s touch faltered slightly, probably having suspected where I was headed with this before it picked up once again. “The rain was relentless and we weren’t too far from the shore so it almost felt as though it was just thick sludge falling from the sky. It was hard to see past the first metre or so.”

I swallowed, noting how the light from the tv screen stretched out across the floor and flickered each time a scene changed.

“Our town wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to warrant a couple T-junctions and the odd roundabout. There was a fourway, just up past the old baptist church, a road mostly used for when you were coming off the main motorway or headed out towards the airport. Dad had been drinking, you could smell it on him some days, but at night it was always stronger. He blew through it, the traffic light teetering on amber before it finally turned red.”

Staring blankly out across the living room, I could almost picture it. The downpour which had clouded the windscreen, the old dash of my dad’s car, the familiar scent of his preferred brand of tobacco.

I licked at my lower lip, mouth suddenly dry. “A van had been crossing. On the passenger side.” I added quietly, appreciating the grip of Matty’s hand as I carried on, “All I really remember after that are headlights and the blare of a horn. Woke up a couple days later, having missed my seventh birthday and my dad nowhere to be seen.”

I huffed a small chuckle, reaching up to rub at my eyes before turning to face Matty. I wasn’t quite prepared for the wet gaze I’d been met with or the single tear that had seemingly escaped and come to a pause on the bridge of his upper lip.

I lifted a hand up to wipe it away, smiling when he kissed the pad of my thumb.

“You’re incredible, you know that.”

I’d been called many things, but I don’t think incredible was one of them.

I leaned in to kiss him, wanting nothing more than the feel of having him close, even if that meant tasting the salt of his tears or enduring that careful way he held my face. It was everything I had needed then.

–

After the little moment I had shared with Matty the previous night, I’d gone to bed feeling a little more drained that usual, but I’d put it down to the exhausting day I’d had and the fact that Matty’d had to head home so that he could do a skype interview early the next morning.

I’d almost been tempted to say that he could do it here in the flat, but with Teddy you could never tell when the kid would be coming or going, so it was safer for Matty to stick to his typical routine.

But I’d woken up all sniffly and foggy headed the next morning. The pounding at the base of my skull had forced me up out of bed in search of painkillers, as well as the fact that it had just gone ten, which meant that Teds was already up and mulling about.

I took a couple of nurofen I had tucked away in the medicine cupboard with a glass of water and figured I’d be better getting a move on with my day than heading back to bed. I knew that Matty would be popping round sooner or later too, so I attempted to sort through a load of washing that desperately needed to be done as well as tidy away the mess we’d created last night.

Teddy had helped himself to a banana from the fruit bowl at some point but was already asking for breakfast by the time I’d stuck the washing machine on- unaware of how close to crying I’d been after I’d gone and dropped a wad of detergent on the floor.

Even so, I’d set to start on a pot of porridge, knowing he would enjoy it with either some jam or spread, but I was surprised when I heard the front door rattle shut not long later, having not heard a knock nor Teddy answer it. I went to scold him, frowning at the fact that he thought he could just answer the door to anyone when Matty appeared with a few Tesco bags in hand.

“I knocked on the window, so he saw me before he let me in,” Matty was quick to rush out, grinning down at Teddy who had since spotted his breakfast and made a dive for it. “Figured I’d grab some stuff before stopping in, knew you mentioned feeling crap last night before I left so..”

He shrugged, moving over towards the kitchen before I could even think up a reply, a little bewildered by the fact that anyone would have the foresight, let alone the sincerity to do something like this for me.

“Matty.” I breathed out, so utterly warmed by the gesture as I followed after him, “You didn’t have to.”

Matty rolled his eyes at me, settling the bags down on the counter, “Shut up, you idiot. Just let me feel like an adult for once, yeah?”

I laughed, unable to help myself, even as he gestured for me to take a seat at the table, claiming I looked a little warm and confirming it when he pressed his hand to my rosy cheeks.

“Do you ever stop?” He questioned around an exasperated smile, settling some basic cold medicines down as well as a few sweet treats. “Washing machine’s already going, the kid’s been fed, floor seems to have been swept too. How’ve you not dropped?”

I rolled my eyes at his ever growing eccentrics, though was still wearing a rather pleased smile. It was nice, I deemed, having someone look after me for once.

“I can’t stop, babe, got things to do, a tiny person to look after!”

Matty just shook his head at that, obviously not too happy with my retort, “Guess we’re just gonna have a lazy day then, yeah? Got snacks, popcorn even. Reckon Teds will enjoy it. I can even take him out to the park for a bit, just to let him run off some of that energy.”

I blinked at the maddening man stood before me. Wondering what I’d done to deserve all of the things he'd done for me. And without having even been asked.

“Haven’t you got stuff to do?” I queried, content to simply watch him unpack the shopping he’d bought.

Matty shrugged a single shoulder, wrapping up a carrier bag and tucking it into the stash I kept hidden beneath the sink. “Nothing important.”

“The interview went alright then?”

He hummed, putting a couple tins of soup away in a cupboard just above his head. “Yeah, fine. Hann did it with me, other guy was in Paris or some other, I think. Definitely French though.” His phone sounded then, but it seemed he’d left it in the pocket of his jacket which he’d gone and thrown over the back of a chair upon walking in. “Look at that for me, would you?” He asked, peering down at a carton of something or other, probably pondering over whether or not it went in the fridge.

I was only a little surprised by his request, but did so anyway, trying to find the phone in one of his many deep pockets. “Definitely French?” I prompted, smirking smugly over at him before my fingers finally found the device. “You sound so certain, Healy. Almost as though you’ve been taking notes on the French dialect, or something like it.”

Chuckling to himself, Matty flashed me a big smile from over his shoulder before turning away with a wink. “The French are fit, baby.”

I laughed lightly with a halfhearted shake of my head, then peered down at his phone, “Password?”

“0709.” He told me, and so with a slight pinch in odd wonderment I typed it in.

“Why that?” I couldn’t help but ask, only glancing up again when I heard the shuffle of his feet. I raised a single eyebrow. “What, is it like the death of your guinea pig or something?”

Matty’s face pitched itself into a hearty grimace that made me cackle. “My guinea pig? Who the fuck owns a guinea pig?” He shook his head at me, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort and instead said, “It’s the date we met.”

My eyes widened considerably. “Actually?”

With a light huff, he turned back to putting things away, “Thing gets lost or nicked more times than not, so I’m always changing my passwords. Figured I’d remember that one.”

“Matty!” I all but awed, honestly feeling the love. “You can be such a sap sometimes, you know that. The day we met!”

I received a glare in retort but I simply laughed at him before turning to look down at the message he’d just received. My forehead furrowed.

“You said you had nothing going on today!” I was quick to accuse, eyes flashing up to meet his somewhat startled face, “George’s party is tonight!”

Matty’s mouth formed a little ‘o’ before he merely shrugged, “G will get over it if I can’t make it. You need me here more, and besides, his birthday isn't even for a couple more days. They’re only throwin’ it tonight so that most people can make it.”

I looked heavenwards, hoping that the second pause would give me a little bit of strength. Did it fuck. “Matty, you’re not staying here with us when George, your best mate might I add, is out celebrating his birthday! He’ll want you there.”

“Squeaks, you’re sick. He’ll underst-”

I shook my head, “No, you’re going. I’ve got a little cold, nothing that’s gonna kill me. What will kill me though is you not going to be with G on his special day.”

Matty narrowed his eyes a tad, “Don’t guilt trip me.”

My next bout of laughter couldn’t be helped. “I’m not!”

With a scoff, Matty turned to put the carton he’d held in the side door of the fridge, shaking his head as though I was the one being outlandish. “It’s fine, alright?” He said once he’d spun back around, “I’d much prefer being here anyway.”

My head dropped to the side as I looked up at him, “Babe, please go. It would honestly mean a lot to me, but even more so to George. You know, who’s birthday it is. Go on. Please?”

Matty sighed and ended up dropping himself into the opposing chair, I slid his phone on over to him. “What about you though, and Teddy?” He asked and it was sweet, how much he cared.

“We’ll be fine.” I assured him, reaching out to take his hand, “The party isn’t til later anyway, so how about we stick with your lazy day idea and then when you need to start heading out, I can just pop Teds in the bath and get him ready for bed.” When Matty still didn’t seem too keen on the idea, I squeezed his hand a tad and added, “You can even head back here after if you want.”

He perked up at that, but was still a little resistant to the whole idea of leaving.

“I promise we’ll be fine, love.”

And oh, did I wish that had been the truth.

103 notes · View notes

lottiecrabie · 10 months

Text

crablurb masterlist

matty healy

eat me like a good boy – request

go back to sleep – request

call me when you’re bored – request

bi threesome and continuation (w other girl)

cheating

halloween

ghostface

studio (w george)

pray for my soul

cockwarming

morning sex

sex toy

fight

cross

drunk and morning after

matty’s parents

defending

boyfriend

sore

vacation

girlfriend and its twin

first date

proud

trick or treat

winter

don’t fuck the line cooks

cockwarming

threesome (w bartender!george)

fire escape

caught in the act

cat

virginity

socmed

to dust and bones

cockwarming

prequel

jealousy

stars

handcuffs

rockstar girlfriend

studio eating out

brits

professor!matty

cockwarming

raspberry

cyosa!matty

cuddle

galatea!matty

concert

ross macdonald

play me a song – request

george daniel

how’s your itch – request

thigh riding

studio (w matty)

bartender!george

threesome (w linecook!matty)

intense

lottiecrabie deep cuts, as a birthday treat

crabie quiz

how well do you know lottiecrabie fics

which lottiecrabie fic are you

#masterlist #writing #imagine #smut #angst #fluff #blurb #requests #the 1975 #matty healy #george daniel #ross macdonald #crabie #crablurb

434 notes · View notes

all-things-fic · 7 months

Text

By The Fireplace // RM

A/N: First time writing Ross, could be the last time too! It's long (7k), it's smutty and it's a day late (sorry @abiiors). This is part of Promptober '23 and I'm not sure if I've written it right as it's set in November (as you can tell it's going well lads).

***

November 23 2023.

Six hours and forty-seven minutes.

It made sense for him to fly straight into Glasgow. It shaved almost two hours off the red-eye flight in comparison to London and another twelve hours in the car to get you to your destination.

This airport and this place weren’t something foreign to him either, he found himself popping up here more often than not just to get some advice. At times he knew he could pick up the phone, but nothing beat an actual, in-person conversation with his big brother in a normal pub with a cheaply priced pint without any pretence.

As he walked to the carousel to grab his bag, he slid the second strap of his backpack onto his arm and immediately followed it with pulling up his hood. He was knackered, body achy from the cramped flight and blinking heavy from the lack of sleep.

His glasses-covered eyes silently followed the black tracking as it moved bag after bag past him. Inside his mind, he began to ridicule himself for not just flying with hand luggage. He didn’t need the extra items, only staying here for seventy-two hours before he would be back in America.

Utah he thinks, or was it Oregon? He made a mental note to figure it out before he left.

Subliminally, he felt himself perk up when he saw his beat up silver luggage push through the black rubber flaps at the start of the carousel. Rather than waiting for it to meet him, Ross went to meet it dragging himself to the other side of the carousel.

Plucking up the item with ease, his gaze quickly scanned the case. He made sure to spot the battered dragonfly sticker that represented one of his favourite bands, therefore knowing he was picking up the right case. Last thing he needed was to be on the phone to Glasgow Airport sorting out their mistake (or maybe it would be his).

Wheeling the case through the airport was easy, even at this hour. Hood still up, he was able to keep himself to himself as he headed towards border control.

The queue shuffled along quite nicely, and he couldn’t help but smile as he read your texts that had been sent throughout his flight. The last one saying, “I’m standing beside the massive Christmas tree, it has mistletoe x.”

He was dying to kiss you, mistletoe or not. He didn’t need an excuse.

Passport scanned and stamped, he softly smiled at the lady on the desk before letting his feet take him to you. His ears perked up at the sound of the accent around him, one that always filled him with the warmest of emotions. It reminded him of the soft lilt his nephew was beginning to pick up.

Walking past W H Smith’s, he weaved around what he perceived to be a couple greeting each other and let his eyes scan over the crowd milling around him.

Christmas tree, Christmas tree, Christmas tree.

He actually spotted you first, regardless of the size of the tree that you were next to. All flannel shirt (which he was sure was his), leather leggings (which he definitely knew were yours) and black boots. Ross gently smiled to himself, taking you in.

You hadn’t noticed him, too engrossed with turning around to look at the flight board that was placed over your left shoulder and reading whether there was any delay with his flight. Truth was the stupid board wasn’t updating so it wasn’t the latest information and you couldn’t be anymore in the dark if you tried to be.

It was almost like slow motion when you turned back around, this sea of hair moving behind you as you looked through the crowd and found him. You knew your smile was megawatt, as you ran your gaze over his entire being; biting it away when you saw the way he had embraced his miserable, emo self and pulled his black hood up.

You couldn’t blame him.

Part of you could already see the heavy tiredness in his body, even though he was at least two yards away from you. Guilt was the heaviest emotion in you, relief was the second. You knew it should be happiness, and god it was there as a close third, but your thoughts were so strongly filled with how much he must love you to do these kinds of things for you.

Flying red eyes. Fucking his body clock up even more to see you for three days. Only to pack his shit up and do it all over again.

Ross closed the gap between you both easily; long and strong strides making the most of his 6’4 stature. When he was in front of you, your hands found his abdomen with ease. Arms sliding underneath his hoodie, desperate to feel as much of his warmth on you now that he was here.

Your head buried itself into his neck, and his arms immediately anchored you to him; hand sliding up to gently cup at the back of your neck. Staying in silence allowed you to really breathe him in, he even smelt tired if there was a way to describe it.

“Where’s this mistletoe then?” He queried, voice wrecked from his time in the air, his lips at your temple.

“Any excuse,” you playfully murmured, as you nudged your head back to look up at him.

“I think you’ll find, you text it to me,” he jested, eyebrows raised as he looked down the bridge of his nose at you. You always loved when he looked at you with such a roguish expression, dimples framing his closed lipped smile.

People often thought of him as sensible and he was, but the times that you saw his eyes light up in this way were some of the most alive times of your life.

“Details,” you whispered, as he pulled you up to him with a know-it-all hum and a mumbled “I’ll give you details” leaning down the rest of the way to meet you.

You’d missed his beard, that was the first musing that came to mind. It’s juxtaposing bristle and softness, always something that distracted you in the best way.

His lips were of course a close second, especially in that moment as they tenderly plucked at yours in a way that heavenly sighed god, I’m glad to see you.

This contented hum left you as he pulled away gently, his lips not done as they nipped at your jaw before he buried his face into your neck now. He started to sway the two of you as you hugged, your hands sliding up his back and gripping to the worn band tee that he donned.

“How was the flight?” you asked, voice slightly strained due to your head being tilted upwards.

The question hung around in the air for a while, before he lifted himself and pressed his lips in sponging kisses to yours once, twice and three times once more.

“Shit,” he let the word linger at your mouth as you heavily sighed, “but ‘s fine.”

With a deep breath, Ross raised to his full height once more, chest puffed out as he stretched, before asking, “Where’s the keys?”

“I’m driving,” you replied, quickly. He eyed you, right hand rubbing at his chest. You hated driving, especially in Scotland. He knew it, you knew it. The times you’d let out the girliest of screams when picking him and Rob up from Murrayfield were far too embedded into his mind to not tease you religiously about it.

It was almost like you could hear his thoughts, reminding him of all the moments you’d panicked when on the roads up here.

“I’m driving, Ross,” you stressed, cutting the thoughts dead. You knew he meant well but there was no way he was going to complete the almost six hour drive that you had on your hands after being sat uncomfortably on a plane for six hours himself and most likely only running off fumes.

His lips quirked, amused at your tone which was so heavily laced with reprimand. “Alright,” he conceded. “After you, darlin’.”

***

He had fallen asleep to Dreams by Fleetwood Mac about an hour and thirty minutes into the drive. You had assumed it to be because you had hit the A82 which was such a large stretch of road which you had to drive along for such a long period of time that it had bored him enough to nod off.

As you had slowed in traffic, you took the time to admire him while he slept. His glasses hung at the neck of the tee, never far away so that he would be able to see almost instantly when he woke rather than panic trying to find them.

His arms were folded across his chest; his neck awkwardly propped up by his bunched up hoodie made into some makeshift pillow and placed between him and the car door. You knew he would regret it later - his body was about to remind him that he was a thirty-four year old man who needed a proper bed to rest in - but regardless you were glad that he had given in to his need to sleep.

A soft smile lifted at your lips as you took in his slightly rounded chin, you just knew a double chin was hidden by his impressive beard and it filled you with such affection that you wondered if you needed an intervention at this point.

Eyes back on the road, you lifted your hand to turn down the music even further, not wanting anything to disturb him during his slumber, and concentrated on the journey ahead of you.

“What a dickhead,” you muttered after a while, pressing the break harder than you liked and watching the navy car to your right almost cut you up without a care in the world.

“He had right of way.”

Turning your face to the left, you blinked in silence over at Ross, whose face was far too amused for your likening. He did not just wake up and berate your driving. How long had he been awake?

“Easy to say when you’ve been asleep for just over four hours,” you commented, pulling off and taking the next left onto a road you didn’t catch the name of. “Must’ve needed the beauty sleep.”

The laugh that he gave you was sudden and hearty. He wasn’t afraid to let you know he was amused by your previous comment which was heavily petulant in its delivery.

“M’necks fuckin’ killing me,” he broke the silence.

“Karma.”

He meowed at you then, communicating he was heavily aware of your cattiness towards him. You cut your eyes to him, infuriated by the way his gaze sparkled before he winked at you to try and soften you up.

Next his right hand moved to brush your hair behind your shoulder. He could feel the tension sitting at the back of your neck and across your shoulders without really touching you.

“Ross,” you mithered, “I’m trying to drive.”

“Pull in ‘ere, let me do the last bit.”

“Sweep in and take the glory, true United fan.”

“No,” he spoke, voice level. “I can feel your apprehension, and I want you to relax. Pull in.”

Sighing, you felt your fingers reach for the indicator before you could stop them, signaling that you were moving to the curb. His belt was off him before you had actually stopped, an annoying beeping sound filling the car to signify someone wasn’t wearing their seatbelt as it was still in operation.

You undid your seat belt slowly, watching him wait at the front of the car as traffic moved around. When it became clear, he rounded the car to your side, opening your door for you and giving you space to get out.

“Any CDs in the glove compartment?” He asked when you were stood in front of him. “Driver's choice.”

You rolled your eyes knowing you were about to endure some scream-o band from the early noughties with heavily distorted guitar sounds and tons of drum snare.

“On you go, Passenger Princess. I’m not changing my mind.”

You squinted your eyes up at him, as he patted twice at your backside.

Watching him in your car, fixing the seat for his long legs always did things to you. It felt like an age since you had last seen him drive, hands moving smoothly over the steering wheel and placing the gear stick into first to pull off.

The finesse he showed was always far more attractive than it should be and you always remembered so vividly the first time he had taken you on a drive in America in this fancy old car that just wasn’t responsive.

You had felt on edge the entire time. Ross? He was so calm. So in control. Taking it all in his stride. Not at all bothered about driving on the opposite side of the road than when you were both home.

It weirdly comforted you. Made you feel safe, secure. Here was a man who was exactly everything you had ever wanted. A little bit geeky, a whole lot manly. Able to act the fool when he felt it, but sweep in and put the pieces back together when needed.

Grateful is what you were.

He must’ve felt it too, because as he pulled out back onto the road and got comfortable, his left hand found its spot atop your thigh. You quickly encased it with both of yours, weaving the fingers of your right hand through his before using your left to gently stroke at the top of his hand, knuckles and forearm.

“Woah, what’s this wanker doing ‘ere?,” he broke the silence with his high pitched and incredulous tone, followed by “ya could fucking indicate, mate!”. You watched as Ross turned the wheel with his right hand alone and looked through his mirrors, almost asking himself silently if those around him could actually drive.

“Doesn’t he have right of way?”

“No, he fucking does not.”

The delivery of his response was so deep and astute you bit back your laugh, before lifting his hand to your lips; giving in and chuckling against his skin.

Of course, he didn’t!

(He absolutely did).

***

The Isle of Skye was renowned for its beauty. A hidden gem of sorts within the Scottish islands. Known for its rugged landscapes, picturesque fishing villages and medieval castles, the largest island in the Inner Hebrides was to be your home for the next seventy-two hours.

The feeling you got when you drove over to the coast via the bridge that connected it to Scotland’s northwest was like no other. You heard Ross chuckle under his breath at the way you let go of his hand and clambered for your phone so you could film the scenery around you, mountains and hills that were awash of oranges and browns, with the odd bit of greenery clinging on even though you were fully in the throes of autumn.

Panning your camera across the car, you filmed his profile as he drove with poise along the bridge, barely any cars in front of you giving an open road feel. He looked at you from the corner of his eye when he felt you filming him, this devilish grin lifting at his mouth as you watched him through the camera lift your hand to his lips then placing it against the side of his face.

“Eyes on the road, Romeo,” you replied to his non-verbal action, stroking his cheek with your thumb, before gently turning his head away to look through the windscreen.

The rest of the drive had been quite a damp one, the heavens opening and rain battering down onto your car. With about fifteen minutes to go, you wrapped yourself up in Ross’ hoodie, glancing over at him to see him sat further forward in his seat as he wiped at the inside of the window which was misting up.

You fiddle around with the blowers to help him, blasting them up to the highest they would go and seeing the way the hot heat helped clear the windscreen slightly.

The sat nav told him to take the next right, the car dropping down to 15mph due to the narrow streets that he was driving around and then it was the next left to take you to the cottage that was nestled in the village of Elgol.

The beauty of Elgol was something the two of you had discovered and became captivated by over his short and sweet summer break after attending a wedding of his brother's friend.

During those four days, you had spent time exploring the breathtaking coastline and ventured on scenic walks through the landscapes that were so often talked about when it came to Skye.

When you had last been there, you had been able to experience the perfect balance of seclusion and adventure, which was exactly what you and he had been after for the longest time.

“We’re going to be rained off,” he mumbled, a little agitated as he pulled the car to halt outside your cottage for the next three days.

“You say that as if there isn’t plenty for us to do inside.”

It was meant to be suggestive and you appreciated that he had picked up on it immediately, this smug smile plucking at his lips; the kind that was absolutely driven by a dirty thought or two.

“I know how much you love a game of chess, babe.”

He glanced over at you unamused, as you laughed in such a dirty way, you were almost shocked a sound like that could leave you.

“Just love it, me.”

His deadpan was second to none. It was definitely one of your favourite things about him: made the list of the top five favourite things ever.

“Getting really good at it.”

“And who’s told you that?” He dropped his head back against the headrest and rolled his face to the side to look at you. He was currently on a losing streak, truth be told.

“Hey, Waughy and I talk. Usually when I’m waiting for you to reply to my text but you’re too hungover to pick your head up off the pillow.”

“Oh, I see how it is, fraternising with the enemy. Giving him all my tricks.”

You rolled your lips into your mouth, breathing deeply through your nose. “Not all of them.”

Those words were weighty.

There were some things John didn’t need to know about his friends. Things that were for only you and Ross.

A silence fell over you both, filling the car. You kept your eyes on each other, Ross’ occasionally falling over your features and dropping to your lips. He’d stare at them for a while, before they’d lift and he’d start the process all over again.

He did this a lot when he was away, sometimes in person like now after he had dared to take the flight, or other times through the phone when FaceTiming from California, or New York, or Perth. It was like he needed to memorise you in some way, just in case you changed by the time he got home.

You took him in too, his usual hair less sleek as flyaways made their presence known thanks to the damp moisture in the air. His skin wasn’t as perky as usual, a little sallow in colour but regardless he was still the most handsome man you knew.

Under his loving gaze, you shivered. It was probably more from the cold than anything, but that didn’t stop the light blush invading.

“Best get you inside and warm,” he spoke. “Gonna have to make a run for it.”

You giggled to yourself as you opened your door, breath catching in your throat when the cold splashes of rain hit you. You turned briefly to see Ross using his long stride to his advantage, jogging to the blue front door of your cottage and moving from side to side to keep himself from going numb as the November cold whipped around him.

Car door slammed behind you, you held your bag in your hand and ran to stand next to him, both trying to cram yourself into the alcove under the thatched room.

Your hands shook as you fiddled with the keys. Trying your best to align it with the lock. He watched from the side of you as you shivered on the front door step, all-natural radiance and slightly sodden, swaying from side to side as you tried to keep warm.

“Come ‘ere,” his deep voice chuckled, unable to watch you struggle any longer, gently taking the keys from you and pushing them into the lock. “How are you so fuckin’ freezing and you’ve even nicked my jumper?”

You didn’t answer him, instead opting to push the door open the minute he’d unlocked it and prayed that the owners had left some kindle for the open fire so that Ross would be able to sort it immediately.

***

One warm shower later, you stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the lounge, eyes moving over the scene in front of you. Hair thrown up in a messy bun atop your head, the tartan pyjamas you had purposely packed were loose against your frame.

Ross has disappeared into the bathroom about thirty minutes ago now to wash away the travel, his rendition of And She Was muffled but still present over the sound of the shower.

You’d spent that time going through the welcome pack that was filled with freshly baked bread courtesy of the owners, a burgundy white wine which boasted buttery tastes of peaches and citrus zest, and of course a bag of coffee that sounded completely to Ross’ fancy.

With the bottle uncorked, you poured yourself a glass, quickly placing it into the fridge to keep it chilled. Regardless of it edging closer to winter by the day, there was nothing worse than room temperature wine.

Shoulder pressed to the door jamb, you sipped at the alcohol and rested the cool glass against your lips.

The Nest as it was known, was definitely romantic. All thatched roof and spectacular panoramic views which overlooked Knock Castle and across the Sound of Sleat to the Knoydsrt mountains.

Inside it was all vintage French fabrics and fine linen. With its sheepskin rugs and real wood fire stove, the cottage was described as the “perfect getaway for couples looking to explore and return to comfort after a day walking in the hills and mountains”.

While your exploring had only consisted of you carrying your items from the car and into the cottage, you were definitely ready to get cosy next to the fire and relax in the lived-in space.

“Forgot my clothes,” he spoke in a hushed tone not wanting to break the serene silence when he spotted you across the room. His voice slowly tapered off as he took in the particular tartan pattern that you were donning, recognising it to be that of his own family name.

The smirk that lifted at his lips, and the flare of his nostrils as he inhaled deeply let you know he had caught on. As tribal as it was, you didn’t mind the way his eyes ravaged you.

Your eyes ran over him without shame in return, his hair wet and sitting against his shoulders, lines of water dripping down his hairy chest and over the tops of his broad shoulders. The delicate chain that he always wore was decorative against his neck.

His right hand held a white towel securely at his hips, clenching at the fabric as he glistened and walked closer to you.

“Any of that going spare?” He nudged his head towards the wine, causing you to peel your eyes away from him and down to your own glass. When you looked back at him, he was so close to you you had to tilt your head back slightly.

“Depends,” you started, watching his eyebrow quirk up at you with intrigue. “Are you planning on sitting around in that towel, or covering yourself up?”

The crackle of the fire cut through the room and your question.

“How’d you want me?”

***

Ross opted for clothes, which meant he had to pour his own glass of wine when he came back from getting dressed. Rather than giving him a verbalised answer earlier, you’d flirtatiously tugged at his right wrist trying to get him to drop the towel.

“Towel stays on babe,” he had whispered against your lips, wet hair moving to almost curtain around you. “This cold won’t do anything for my ego.”

You rolled your eyes at him bringing up “winter penis”, which if you recalled correctly had been a topic of conversation a few nights ago when he had called you from Toronto. A conversation that had started with the guys, and one he thought fitting to continue with you.

It wasn’t, but you’d rolled with it. Mainly because at the time of the call you could hear the stage whisky fuelled slur and wanted to humour him.

You had fawned over him in that moment, openly discussing the size of his dick and before you knew it you were engaged in particularly erotic dirty talk while you sat and ate your Weetabix. Time zones were fucking bizarre, but you did what you had to to survive tour. That’s just how it was.

“You know the other morning when you phoned me and started talking about your dick,” he hummed, wanting you to continue. “I was eating breakfast-“

“Was it any good for you?”

“The Weetabix? Ten out of ten.”

He laughed, his head falling back against the cushions as he sat on the floor with his back resting against the bottom of the sofa.

“Cheers,” he bit back in good humour, looking at you upside down.

You let your fingers run gently across his brow, thumb stroking at his forehead as you softly smiled. “You know how I feel about your dick,” you whispered.

“Do I?”

You hummed your response of “yes”, voice light and airy.

“Why are we whispering?” He asked. You shrugged. “They deliver cocktails to this cottage, did ya know that?”

You hummed again, watching him flip through the menu he was holding. His fingers tapping at one of the cocktail names, “Reckon I’d like this one.”

Leaning down and looking over his shoulder you read the title.

Highland Fling. How predictable.

You chose to stay silent as you read the few lines explaining it underneath its bolded title.

The Highland Fling cocktail is a bold, robust and a slightly sweet drink with a flavour of citrus. The smoky and rich flavours of the Scotch whisky are balanced by the sweetness of Drambuie and tart lemon juice. Mixed together they create a complex and satisfying taste experience.

The cocktail is a popular choice among whisky enthusiasts and those who appreciate the rich history of Scottish culture.

“Technically we’re not in the Highlands,” you paused, glancing over at him and seeing his rich eyes were already on you. “For someone who likes to think they’re Scottish, you’ve fucked it there.”

He raised his eyebrows. Touché.

“Spoilsport.”

You leant forward to soothe him with a peck to the lips, whispering against his mouth, “Get four of ‘em.”

***

Before you knew it you were both a few cocktails deep, glasses lined up either side of you on the floor where you sat.

As he looked over at you, he knew you were at the very least buzzed by the soft flush that littered your cheekbones. He had zoned out at whatever it was you were talking about, too engrossed by the way you shone as you talked to him.

He knew he was fucked, in more ways than one. Hopefully literally, at least later on, but that thought could wait for another hour or two. Loving someone and being in love were different things, and in that moment he knew he was in love with you. He knew a lot of things actually; like he knew he needed to ask you to marry him before the tour was out.

He didn’t know how, he didn’t know when but he knew he had to make it happen.

Maybe he could find some time in the new year, whisk you away somewhere warm to fight away the January blues. At least that’s what he would tell you.

With your feet in his lap, you leant back on your right hand as you sat on the floor, left holding your fifth cocktail to your lips. It was something pink and fruity - watermelon or strawberry based, he couldn’t quite remember - but the way it was staining your lips was all too satisfying.

“I actually think he has a soft spot for me now,” you spoke softly, humming and closing your eyes as you felt his hands move to massage your feet.

“Who?”

You spoke the name of his eldest nephew, seeing the way his eyes smiled at the mention of his brother’s son, when yours fluttered open and looked back at him.

“He’s always liked you,” he reassured, hand rubbing gently along your calf. He liked you talking about his family so breezily, even if you were showing a need to be liked by his three year old nephew in this scenario.

You shook your head, biting down at your lip. “No one compares to Uncle Ross.”

“Uncle Ross, is really fucking cool that’s why.”

He widened his eyes to emphasise what he was saying, wondering how he wasn’t cringing at describing himself as cool.

“Pretty fit too.”

He looked at you over the rim of his glass as he stalled his movement to drink; holding your eyes with his he let his lips encase the rim of the glass. They were dark and smouldering, never leaving your face. There was no chance he didn't know what he was doing; he didn’t need to verbalise how much he wanted you at that moment.

“How fit we talking?”

You breathed deeply, a blissful sigh leaving you on exertion. “So fit.”

He laughed down his nose, the additional sip of his cocktail he had taken now swallowed.

“Really eloquent.”

“I know,” you played along, voice breathy. “The most eloquent, but tell me I’m wrong.”

In goading fashion you pressed your foot gently into his stomach, feeling his hand clasp around the top from your action.

“Behave.”

“Make me.”

Ross pulled at your leg then, hand curling under your knee, needing you closer. Your joyful squeal turned into a throaty laugh as you threw your head back and somehow found yourself in his lap.

He was back against the sofa then, hands sliding up the back of your pyjamas and gripping gently to the nape of your neck. He guided your face down and towards him. His mouth smiled against yours, the two of you too happy to engage in a proper kiss.

Giving up, he slid his lips across your cheek and underneath your chin as you tilted your head back and breathed his name. He gently nipped at your throat, tongue licking and tasting your skin which was slightly salty due to the heat within the room from the roaring fire.

Your fingers were woven into the hair at the nape of his neck, pushing upwards underneath where his hair tie sat, to try and loosen his bun. His hair was still damp from where it had been tied up after his shower hours earlier, and the cool strands felt delightful to your fingertips.

“I fucking love you in this,” he confessed, face buried in your chest as he finally acknowledged you wearing his family tartan. His right hand had a strong hold on your back, hand splayed between your shoulder blades as you leaned back.

His left was fumbling with the buttons of your pyjama top, desperate to rid you of the clothing item. Your mind was telling you to help, but you were too engrossed by the feeling of his lips suckling at your sternum.

“Babe,” you gasped, when you felt him nudge the fabric away with his nose, mouth wet along the top of your boob before he enclosed his lips around your exposed nipple. A satisfied moan left you, as you stroked down the back of his neck and lightly grazed your nails over his skin.

His fingers were firm, deftly plucking at the remaining buttons of your top like the strings of a bass as he grew confident. Top now sat open, his hands were quick to encourage you to move yours from around his neck, so he could slide the sleeves off.

Ross was so immersed in you, the smell of your skin and the way your breath got caught in your throat as he lapped at your nipple.

“Your tits are incredible.”

The comment was boyish and almost lost against your skin. It made you smile, teeth biting down at your bottom lip as he switched boobs.

“I missed you too,” you replied, humour lacing your words.

From your response you felt him lightly trace his nose against your breastbone, he tilted his face back to look up at you, his chin resting at your chest. Your hands moved to gently cup at his face, Ross turning slightly to press his lips to the inside of your palm.

His eyes were imploring as they looked up at you, silently watching you slide your top off completely and aimlessly throw it away before welcoming you back to him by sliding his hands up your bare back and applying a small amount of pressure to your shoulder blades to pull you down to him.

He had missed you. He didn’t need to voice it literally at that moment. It was in his gaze, his touch, the way his fingers dug into your skin as he held you.

You cupped his cheeks, the sound of both your inhales mixing just before your lips met and his face became blurred to you. He started off delicately, almost allowing you to process the feeling of his beard beneath your right hand, and his lips against yours. It wasn’t long until a fervent, urgent need overtook, building from this graduation of intensity that had you clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in your ever-changing world.

Ross’ mouth was insistent as he parted your lips and it evoked a sensuality within you that you had missed the minute he had parted from you all those months prior. His tongue slipped inside your mouth, gentle but demanding, causing a swimming giddiness to overflow your being.

You smiled at the smacking sound of your lips audible, like two teenagers necking on. Faltering lips and a low and muffled moan omitting against your mouth from him as you curled your fingers in his hair and lightly pulled.

Fighting a losing battle, Ross’ lips moved messily down your chin and to your neck. He paused momentarily, holding you against his body before moving to lay you back against the sheepskin rug. It felt sleek and inviting against your skin and you looked down your body at him waiting on his next move.

“Thought about you fucking me on this carpet when I booked this place,” you softly voiced like it was some lewd confession and not one you were sharing with your long term boyfriend.

This wicked glint flickered across his gaze and the smuggest grin you had sworn he had ever worn lifted at his lips; slowly he sat back on his haunches and started to unbutton his top. His eyes were everywhere; at your bare chest, on the sea of hair that haloed above you.

“Did ya?”

Looking down at him, you nodded happily wearing your soft blush and lifted your hand to try and reach for the bottom of his shirt to help him remove it quicker.

“Lured me here under the pretense of wanting a nice little getaway,” he teased. “Really just wanted to have your way with me.”

His eyes took in the way you looked at him, all doe-eyed and biting gently down on your bottom lip. You weren’t going to deny it; why would you?

You instead reached for his hand. The heat and wetness between your legs felt all too inviting, desperate for his touch. He palmed you over the top of your underwear so easily, dexterous digits swiping at your clit in the right way.

“Don’t start without me,” he paused, as your eyes started to close from the feel of his fingers. His lips pressed to your warm cheek when he continued, “Let me go get some condoms.”

As he rose to his feet, he quickly stripped his lower half leaving him naked, unphased and all bare bottom as he walked away. It wasn’t lost on you the use of the plural.

Starting without him was exactly what you needed, fingers caving and picking up where he left off: gently rubbing at yourself and spreading your wetness over your clit.

“Hands,” his chided when back in the lounge, hearing a soft whine escape you and seeing your hands move to easily rid you of your pyjama trousers. When you returned to your place on the floor, you watched the strip of condoms bounce to the carpet next to you, from his relaxed throw.

“Someone’s confident,” you casually commented, gazing up at him through hooded eyes and taking in the open wrapper that was placed between his teeth. He smirked around it, head dropped and looking down at his hands as they adeptly rolled the latex over his erection.

Joining you back on the floor, Ross leant over and pressed a kiss to the inside of your left knee, his eyes finding yours from under his brow. He mumbled, “Some would say prepared…”

He stalled his words, lips now at your right knee. “…. Safe.”

“Sexy.”

“How’d you want me?” He queried in return, feeling your hands pulling at him.

“You decide. Just want you.”

He moved so effortlessly between your legs, them pliant in his hands and accommodating. His weight above you was always welcomed, comfortingly looming and imperturbably virile.

“Put me in,” he spoke, voice low and caught in his throat as slipped his tip between your folds. You whined around your bitten lips, reaching up to pull him down closer from where he was hovering over you.

His lips were heavy on yours once more, all tongue and hungry. He groaned against your mouth as you stroked him over the condom that he wore, hands sliding down your waist and angling your hips.

“S’yours, you know.”

You slowly smiled at his slurred and barely audible words, mouth dropping open and head falling further into the carpet as he slid into you with no resistance, bottoming out in one long, smooth stroke and the manliest “fuck me”.

Humming deeply, Ross bit around his smile as he started with shallow, teasing thrusts. A series of strokes that you found frustratingly sexy but knew as ones he wouldn’t be able to keep up due to his own insatiable desires.

“More,” you craved to feel the power you knew he held.

He listened, thrusts more measured - slow, hard and deep - knowing what you wanted and needed. Undulating and determined.

He jutted his hips forward, knocking your body with more force as you lay relaxed below him, arms above your head and boobs bouncing with each swift jolt of his thrusts as he fucked into you.

“Yes, fuck me,” you breathily moaned, head pushed back further into the floor beneath you, hands moving to the rug upon which your lay, fingers grasping at the soft material.

To think that all those hours earlier, you thought that neither of you were going to get warm. Now you almost choked around the thick air that consumed you within the room and from the roaring fire.

Ross’ thrusts kept their measured in pace, more forceful than before and you couldn’t help the blissful sighs and heavenly cries that left you lips as he devoured your sweaty skin, licking and sucking at the curve between where your shoulder and neck met.

The feeling of his touch let you know how sure of himself he was. You couldn’t disagree as your body welcomed him, receptive and pliant and willing.

He frowned along with you when he felt you begin to go taught. When you breathily gasped his name, he scooped you into him and held you against him.

Your orgasm had crept up on you, causing you to cup the back of his neck and bring his face back to yours. He was muttering words of approval into your skin, something that you couldn’t decipher that had you opening your legs wider for him.

He knew you liked it when you couldn’t quite figure out what filthy things he was saying to try and get you there. It summed up the mystique that peppered throughout your relationship.

As you shook, he sloppily fucked you through your release, hand tilting your hips up as you become slack.

“God, I love you,” you desperately gasped when you came to, face flushed and feeling clammy from the mixture of the heat from the naked flame to your right and pure exertion.

“‘Think you love fuckin’ me,” he roughly spoke, his right hand seeking yours and lacing your fingers together against the rug. You looked at him with desperate eyes, a shake of your head to his words. “No?” He sniggered down his nose, his own skin taking on a pink flush.

His other hand wound underneath your lower back, as you arched slightly, liking the way he wanted to drag it out; to roll his heavy hips into yours this entire time and making it so your clit rubbed against his pelvic bone on every thrust.

He watched your eyes roll back and your chin lifted upwards, him finding your spot once more causing you to clench around him. Ross groaned your name, begging you to look at him. Your hazy eyes found his shortly after he aired his request, hips snapping forward when you silently begged him with fucked out eyes to fill you up.

“Fuck, ‘m comin’.”

The sound of his voice was watery; choked as he groaned causing you to blissfully sigh when you felt him drop down to you, your arms enveloping his body and holding it to yours.

You ran your fingertips lightly down his back, listening to his breathing even itself out, you pressed a fluttering kiss to his temple and purred, “Welcome home, baby.”

#promptober75 #promptober #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonal fanfic #ross x reader #ross x you #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald smut #fluff writing #smut writing

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tonguepiercedanyway75 · 21 days

Text

a/n: This picture is doing unspeakable things to me.

summary: imagine waking up and first thing is having a make out session on the couch.

warnings: 18+ mdni

masterlist

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“Morning,” you murmur, leaning against the doorway to the living room. Ross is in a short black sports shorts and a black t-shirt. His hair is in a mess which means he hasn’t got ready yet. It’s the same with you. You’re only wearing a (Ross’) shirt and only panties.

Ross gives you a sleepy smile and puts his phone on the table in front of him. “G’morning love, sleep okay?” He asks and you move a little closer to him. His hands find your thighs and he rubs slow circles into them.

“Slept amazing,” you hum. It’s always a pretty late night, even when he’s home from tour or if he has work. But when he comes to bed, you fall asleep almost immediately after his arms find his way around your waist.

“Yeah?” He grins and pulls you into his lap. You giggle as your legs settle next to his thighs. “Yeah,” you say, “how long have you been up?” He places his hands on you waist, kissing your head as you rest it on his chest, hiding your face in his neck.

“Couple hours, had to work for a bit,” you just hum at his response and close your eyes but he lifts your head by cradling your face. “Tired much?” He laughs but you just shake your head.

You notice how his beard is at the perfect length and you bite your lip down as you think about the feeling of his beard between your thighs. “Or not,” he chuckles as he sees your blushing.

“C’mere,” he says as he grabs your hips and moves them a bit higher, the action causes you to let out a small whimper at the friction you’re gaining.

Ross rolls his hips up into you, continuing to kiss you, softly biting down on to your lip. You can feel him, hot and heavy against you and you roll your hips again, taking what he’s giving you. This time he groans into your mouth, one of his hands leaving your hip to grasp the base of your neck and pull you even closer.

You spend the next ten minutes in this position, grinding, panting and kissing. Groans and whimpers fill the air as his bulge presses into your core. You feel like you need to pull away as soon as possible because it’s embarrassing of how fast you could come.

You let your head fall back and Ross just moves down your neck. His beard tickles against your collarbone as he leaves wet kisses down your body. “Shit,” you pant.

You stop your moves and pull his head back from you. Your breathing sounds like you ran a marathon and you sure as hell feel like it. “Fuck,” He whispers breathily, once you both stop moving, hot and sticky under your clothing as you both lean into each other.

Ross’ pupils are dilated, his mouth is parted and his lips wet. The sight makes you melt and sink into him even more. “Sorry,” you say but he’s quick to speak.

“Don’t be darling,” he cups your face and gives you a kiss on the cheek, “you need a break?” He asks and tilts his head. You’re unsure, you just need him.

You shake your head and pull him in again, grinding your hips down again, earning a groan. He smiles into the kiss, “Jesus,” he says and starts to guide you by your hips. “Insatiable.”

#ross macdonald #Ross Macdonald blurb #ross macdonald smut #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald imagine #the 1975 #the 1975 fic

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abiiors · 1 year

Note

Cute domestic Ross fluff please🥹

She's short and sweet but her filthy older sister is coming in 20-ish minutes

Morning Routine

You spit toothpaste back into the sink just as Ross, sleepy and tired, walks into the bathroom.

His t-shirt rests unevenly on his shoulders and his eyes are barely even open but his mouth splits into a sweet dimpled smile at the sight of you.

‘Morning, my love,’ he mumbles and presses a kiss to your sleep-tousled hair, ‘are you excited for today?’

You bend down to rinse your mouth, put your toothbrush back into its place and then beam up at him in the mirror. ‘So excited!’

Because today, after months of being separated by the tour, is the first time you get to just walk around the city with him. The plan made half-asleep and in the middle of the night is finally coming to fruition. You turn around in his arms and pull him into a kiss.

‘So,’ you say, ‘we’re getting coffee and breakfast, then going to the farmers’ market, then to the cinema?’

His smile widens with each item you list. Your excitement is contagious and tired as he is, he can’t wait to spend the whole day with just you. But for now, he nods and goes in for another kiss; this one longer than before. You can feel the sink digging into your hips and his beard tickles a bit but then his hands squeeze your waist to hold you in place and all the other sensations melt away.

When you finally manage to pull apart, he closes his eyes and sighs in sweet bliss. Strands of your hair separate themselves from his beard when he steps back.

‘I left you something on the bed,’ he says, chuckling a little when you make a beeline out of the bathroom.

The sheets are still messy and rumpled from last night’s shenanigans. The sunlight streams in and illuminates small particles of fluff in the air, and his neatly folded cream jumper sits on the bed.

‘Ross!’ you shriek in delight, ‘I can borrow your favourite jumper?!’

His laugh echoes in the bathroom as he walks out, toothbrush in his mouth and a bit of paste on the corner of his lips. ‘You can borrow my favourite jumper,’ he confirms.

You run up to him, wrap your arms tightly around his middle. ‘Thank you thank you thank you!’

He laughs around the toothbrush in his mouth and strokes a hand down your spine.

You let him walk back into the bathroom to clean up as you busy yourself getting dressed. Because of the giant that he is, his sweater swamps you completely. The sleeves extend a good few inches past your fingertips and you have to bunch them up a bit (okay, a lot!) to make it fit comfortably. But it smells just like him; a woodsy, spicy scent mixed with something that is just Ross. You sit on the edge of the bed and bring the sweater-covered hands in front of you to inhale deeply.

All the while, Ross leans against the doorframe and watches you with a soft smile on his face.

‘Sweetheart,’ he pushes himself off the doorframe and walks in, ‘you look adorable.’

You grin at him through the mirror and open a tube of lipstick to put on. It’s something Ross has seen you do countless times before; you putting on your makeup. Yet he stops in his tracks and watches the whole thing mesmerised. The way your fingers blot away the excess lipstick, the face you make when you put on mascara, your small excited jiggle when you get your eyeliner just right.

‘I missed this so much,’ he mumbles to himself when you put the makeup bag away.

‘What?��

‘You,’ he smiles, ‘I missed you so much.’

#ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald #ross x reader #ross macdonald x reader #ross fluff #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald fic #ross the 1975 #domestic fluff #morning routine #just fluff #fluff fic #the 1975 #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fluff #matty healy #adam hann #george daniel

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kennedy-brooke · 9 months

Text

Dress

George Daniel x (Fem) Reader

Summary: You’ve been best friends with George Daniel for as long as you can remember, but your relationship has always suggested something more. The pining and waiting quickly becomes too much to handle, and you finally decide that something has to be done. A night out with your friends is the perfect excuse for you to wear the dress you bought, with the only intention of having him take it off.

heavily based on the song dress by taylor swift

Word Count: 9.9k

Part 2

a/n: hello lovely people. after many setbacks, my George Daniel fic is FINALLY here! shoutout to @imagine-that-100 and @alovesreading for making me finish it and helping me when i got stuck (i would have given up without the peer pressure support). There is a serious lack of George Daniel fiction, so here is my shot at fixing this problem. I got extremely carried away, and though it was originally meant to be a oneshot, THERE IS A PART 2!! so no worries, the good stuff is on the way and will be here @ 12 est on monday, august 21st ;)

You had been friends with George Daniel for ages, long before the band had gotten big. The pair of you had been through all of it together.

You had been there while his hair was flowing and damaged, and you had cried when he decided to buzz it off - while he simply held you and laughed at your reaction.

Just as he had been there for your mid-life crisis, when you decided bleaching your hair was the only way to get through it, and he looked right at you and lied to your face saying that it looked good.

You’ve always been the closest of friends - and fame has done little to change that fact - but when it comes to your dynamic duo, there has always been an undercurrent of something more.

While you’re just as close with the other boys, your relationship with George has always been different. Friends don't banter quite like the two of you. They don’t openly flirt like you do. They don’t share longing looks with one another, or take any opportunity to make physical contact with each other the way you two do. It wasn’t normal. You knew it, he knew it, hell, everyone knew it - they watched as the pair of you danced around the connection, the overwhelming and obvious chemistry, waiting to see who would finally make the first move.

You would balance precariously along the tightrope marking the barrier between friends and something else, something more, slowly tilting towards free falling into the unknown, before hastily shifting weight and falling back to the safety net of friendship. It was painful to watch - the boys individually giving the pair of you shit for the obvious harbored feelings - but it was never as painful as it was to experience.

Being as close as you were, you watched as George brought home girl after girl, trying your best to be the supportive friend you were while simultaneously trying to keep your own emotions in check. Nodding as he went on to Matty about his latest shag, telling Ross you were fine as he looked at you with concern written across his face.

It wasn’t as if the two of you were together. Why wouldn’t you be fine?

George sat back and watched as guys came up to buy you drinks at the bar that you’d happened to stop at. He scoffed and looked away as you threw your head back laughing at something the new guy said - it couldn’t be that funny - and Matty shot him a knowing look that screamed go do something about it.

He never did, though. He watched and watched, and when he had finally had enough, he found a distraction in someone else.

The game went on for years. An uncomfortable, tension-filled game that was by no means enjoyable for any party involved; but recently, there was something that had shifted.

Just before the boys left for “At Their Very Best,” you and George continued to be practically inseparable, but it wasn’t in the same way you had been before. Where your secret moments in a crowded room had been subtle and the touches fleeting (or so you both thought), they were now blatantly obvious.

You sat pressed against him, his arm around your shoulders holding you close. He stood behind you, arms around your waist, gazing at you while you rambled to Matty about some book you had just read. You leaned against the doorway to the studio, looking on as George messed with the tracks, unknowing to your watching eyes. You played with the rings on his fingers while he chatted with the boys, not letting go even after you finished fiddling with the metal. He placed his hand on your thigh, too high to be a friendly gesture, as he drove you to Matty’s place to meet up with the rest of the band.

The tension had continued to build, leading up to the party being thrown in celebration of the release of “Being Funny In a Foreign Language”. The night hadn’t gone to plan for either of you - rather it was thrown off course by a simple interruption and only proceeded to go downhill from there.

Everyone had been having a lovely time, really. Shots had been taken, more drinks had been poured, and you had found yourself on the settee watching as Matty approached.

“Where’s your loverboy?” Smirking, Matty sat himself next to you and threw his arm over your shoulder.

“Hello to you too, Ratty.” Rolling your eyes, you offered nothing in response to his antics, watching as he threw his hand over his chest in mock offense. “He’s in the kitchen, I think, and he’s not my ‘loverboy’, Matty. We’ve been over this.”

He gave you a knowing look. “Ah, but you knew exactly who I was talking about, didn’t you?”

You brought your glass of wine to your mouth, swallowing down the last of it and leveled him with a glare. “I need another drink.”

“Y/n, come on now! Don’t be like that - I was only messing.” He shook your shoulder a bit before drawing you into his side for a hug. “I was just wondering where our Georgie had disappeared to and figured you would have the answer, seeing as I haven’t seen the two of you apart for weeks.”

Sighing, you pouted and let yourself relax into Matty’s side hug. You knew he was right, if anyone was to know where George had gone off to, it would be you - and to be fair, you did know where he was - but you also knew that Matty’s comment wasn’t as innocent as he made it seem.

He was prying. They all had been, and it didn’t help that you had made the drunken mistake to confide in Matty one night a few months back.

He knew how you felt. How in denial you were about having feelings for your best friend. How you were too scared to do anything about it because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship. He knew you thought it was ridiculous and cliched, and he knew that you hated it - but he also knew that those feelings weren’t going away and that the recent clinginess between the both of you was only making those feelings more intense - whether you wanted to admit it or not.

“How’s all of that going, by the way?” Matty prodded, feeling a need to break the silence since you had yet to respond.

You rolled your eyes again, “I’m not sure what you mean, Matty, seeing as there isn’t anything going anywhere.”

“You know exactly what I mean, y/n/n. Neither of you are exactly subtle.” At that you cut your eyes at him, to which Matty just chuckled. “I’m not wrong, and you know it.”

“Well, nothing has happened and it’s probably not going to, so maybe you are.” You huffed and sank lower into your seat, staring at your wine glass as if it would refill itself if you looked at it long enough.

“I highly doubt that. I know George and he wouldn’t just be acting like that for the fun of it. And I know how you feel - you’ve told me as much yourself. What I still don’t understand is why neither of you have done anything about it, it’s simple enough.”

You look over at Matty exasperated, “Matty, I love you, but he’s my best friend and it’s really not that simple. You don’t know the half of it and I wish you’d all just leave it be.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant-”

“I know, Matty, and I appreciate it - but I’d like to enjoy myself tonight and not talk about my pathetic love life.” You smile tightly at him before looking at your empty glass once more and pushing yourself up from your seat. “I’m getting another drink.”

Matty doesn’t utter a word as you get up and make your way to the kitchen - smart man, you think.

Sighing, you make your way around the other party-goers, finding yourself deep in thought. You knew that he had good intentions. Matty can be a dick, but he has a kind heart and has always been a good friend to you.

The issue was that everyone keeps talking like they know exactly what the problem is and how you’re feeling about it, acting as if your situation has an easy fix - when in reality they know absolutely nothing about whatever is going on between the two of you.

George Daniel has been your best mate for ages, you weren’t about to mess all of it up because of some measly feelings. Even if that meant pining in silence, reminding yourself that it’s for the best, trying not to think about what it would be like to be with him in that way. To hug him, but not as a best friend. To spend time with him, but not as a best friend. To kiss-

No. You weren’t going there tonight. You were going to enjoy your time with the boys before they went on tour. There would be no daydreaming about George Daniel and his eyes… and lips… and hands… and-

God. You needed another drink.

Reaching the doorway to the kitchen, you looked in and saw George having a conversation with Ross, his back turned towards where you were standing. He seemed fully immersed in whatever he was talking about and was completely unaware of your presence in the kitchen.

It would be so easy to scare him right now, and just as the thought came to mind, you decided to do just that.

Quietly, you sat your glass down behind the coffee pot and began to slowly walk towards him. Glancing up, you made eye contact with Ross, who quirked his eyebrow upwards. You quickly placed your finger over your lips in response, signaling for him to stay quiet as you crept up slowly behind George.

Realizing what you were trying to do, Ross swiftly looked away from you and began talking to George again, trying to distract him so you could carry out your plan. Once you made it directly behind him, assuring you were completely out of sight, you waited for the perfect moment. And as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, you struck.

You quickly brought up your hands, spreading them open just to snap them closed on George’s waist, aggressively whacking him on either side of his body and letting out a loud yell, “AH!”

“Fucking HELL-” George jumped up in place, swiftly spinning around and fighting off your hands’ attack on his sides by flailing his free arm, the other being occupied by his drink. His face showed nothing short of utter bewilderment, stunned by the sudden attack. His eyebrows pulled down and his mouth gaped open and closed like a fish, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

His reaction, and the expression of shock on his face, sent you into a round of obnoxious laughter - to which Ross joined in on at the expense of his best mate.

“You little shit,” unimpressed, George glared at your laughing figure, bent over at the waist and trying to recompose yourself. “It’s honestly not that funny.”

“Oh, but G, it really was. Your face - absolutely priceless. I wouldn’t have thought your sides would have been so sensitive - you practically levitated off the ground.” Slowly catching your breath, you smiled up at him.

Ross, wanting to stir the pot, gave his own input. “He definitely did - should have seen his face when you got him. Swear I’ve never seen him jump so high.”

George, looking completely unamused, was less than impressed with you and Ross teaming up against him. “I did not. You startled me is all-” He turned to look you dead in the eyes before continuing “-and you’re one to talk. My sides are sensitive, hm? Mine?” George began to smirk and sat his drink next to Ross as he slowly started making his way over to you.

The mischievous glint in his eye was alarming, and you immediately started backing away. You knew what he was up to, and you weren’t about to simply stand there.

With every step he took forward, you took one back, desperately trying to get out of the hole you had just dug for yourself. He kept moving forward, and you kept moving backward - until your back hit the counter and there was nowhere for you to run. However, that didn’t deter George from moving closer still. He continued to walk toward where you were standing, pushing his way into your personal space and pressing you further against the counter.

He looked down at you and smirked, “What was it you said about sensitive sides?” and that's when he struck.

He quickly brought his hands up to your sides, giving you no time to react before he’s started aggressively tickling you. You squealed and burst out laughing, releasing a loud cackling sound that you had no control over.

“George- G wait- GEORGE STOP-'' Your laughter enveloped the kitchen, and caused George’s smirk to slowly turn into a genuine smile. “no NO STOP IT I'M SORRY”

Laughing along with you, George continued his attack. “What was that, darling? I don’t think I heard you- you’re sorry?”

“Stop - STOP YES IM SORRY - IM SORRY PLEASE. George- GEORGE PLEASE NO MORE.”

“See? Was that so hard?” George chuckled at you as you tried to catch your breath and he slowly stopped his attack on your sides.

You looked up at the tree of a man in front of you, trying to hide your smile as you gave him your best attempt at a glare. As soon as you made eye contact, though, your smile broke loose and you couldn’t help but release a half-giggle, half-chuckle at the man you had grown to adore.

The eye contact went unbroken, developing from a look of amusement to a sticky sort of fond look that continued to be passed between the two of you.

“That was nasty of you, G.” You narrowed your eyes at him, pushing on his chest and looking away for a brief moment before your eyes unconsciously drifted back to your best friend.

“I wouldn’t say that I’m the nasty one here, love. Don’t try to sneak up on me next time and you can avoid this mess.” Completely unphased by your light-hearted shove, George simply moved closer, placing his hands on the counter top by each side of your waist, effectively caging you in and bringing your bodies closer than they had been before.

“It was too good of an opportunity, G. I had to.”

The new distance, or rather the lack of such, sent a nervous, giddy feeling straight to your stomach. You and George had been dancing around the tension for weeks, waiting for the other to break - to finally make the first move - but nothing had happened yet and you were getting antsy.

There’s only so much flirting without any effect that you can take before you explode, and tour was starting up in the next week. He would be out of reach then - untouchable until the band was back home for a break. Their return would be months after they leave for tour, and the distance would provide you both with no consistent communication, what with time zones and work.

The pressure was laying heavily on the both of you and the close proximity was making your head fuzzy and your stomach turn - or maybe it was the wine you had been nursing all night - you weren’t sure anymore.

The renewed eye contact had become too much to handle, so you diverted your eyes downward and came face to face with George’s neck and chest. You couldn’t help but slowly drag your eyes across his frame, taking in his chiseled jawline and letting them roam down the expanse of his neck until they caught on an unfamiliar piece of jewelry hanging around it.

Reaching up, you softly slid your finger underneath the necklace and pinched it between your fingers to get a closer look at the piece. It was a simple chain - nothing outrageously large or bulky, but rather a thin, lightweight gold that laid nicely around his neck and had been neatly tucked beneath his shirt.

“Is this new?”

George hadn’t been paying a bit of attention. He was too focused on the smell of your perfume and the soft look that had taken over your features now that you had finally calmed down. You were beautiful. You always had been, but God, if you didn’t look unreal standing so close to him. He was intently committing your features to memory, as if he hadn’t already done so many times before, when you pulled him out of his daze.

“What?” He glanced down at your hands, now holding the thin chain and examining it. “Oh - that? yeah I just got it last week. Hadn’t found a chance to wear it yet, decided tonight was a good time. Do you like it?”

“Mhm, it’s nice.” You weren’t lying, it looked good on him - more than good - but you couldn’t help but tease him a bit. With the chain still between your fingers, you hooked your index finger beneath it and gave a quick tug, bringing his face closer to yours. “- think I could pull it off better, though.”

“Is that so?” George glanced at your face and found you looking at the gold necklace, a small smile gracing your face.

“Oh, definitely. I could pull it off way better than you do.” Your smile turning into a smirk, you tugged on the necklace a bit more, looking up at George to find his eyes trained on your own.

“Mmm, I’m sure you could.” His eyes flicked down to your lips, the smirk there morphing back into a smile, and he couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel like pressed against his own.

You had found yourself in a similar situation. You caught him looking at your lips, causing a flush to crawl up your neck. Later, if anyone asked, you would swear it was because of the wine, NOT because your best friend was looking at your lips like he was dying to explore them with his own.

On their own accord, your eyes had drifted downwards and were staring at his own lips. They had a small upturn to them, a content smile gracing his face as he continued to look at your own.

“Y/n -” It was barely there, a whisper of sorts that you wouldn’t have caught if you hadn’t been intently staring at his lips to see them part as he spoke your name.

With that one breath, everything stopped. You were no longer in the kitchen at a friend’s house, and it felt as if there was no one else around you for miles. It was just you and George sharing this one small moment.

Without noticing, you had both started leaning in. Your stomach started tumbling - was this going to be it? Finally, it was finally going to happen - fuck the consequences - and there was nothing that could stop it, nothing at all -

“Ahem-” Looking positively sheepish, Ross broke the bubble the two of you had created.

In all honesty, you had forgotten that Ross was even there and once broken out of your daze, you realized how close your faces had become. The two of you quickly jumped apart, eyes diverting to look at anything but each other.

“So sorry for interrupting, um, whatever that was -” and to be fair he did look distraught for having been the one to burst your bubble, “- but Matty has been calling George’s name for a bit now and i figured you wouldn’t want him to be the one to break you two apart.”

You and George both grimace. He’s right, you definitely did not want Matty witnessing whatever just happened.

“Plus, it was getting a bit uncomfortable just standing there in silence while that played out.”

You stood there blinking, still trying to come back from your previous daze - which caused George to be the first to respond.

He looks panicked and more than a little distressed. “No- Yeah- I mean no, it’s alright. I- um I should go see what he needs.” And without sparing you another glance, George grabs his drink and walks away.

You watch him walk out of the room, your mouth hung open in disbelief. You had almost kissed. You and George had almost kissed and he just walked away. What the fuck just happened?

“Y/n, listen- I’m sorry for-”

“What? Oh, no it’s um- it’s alright, no worries- Have you, um, have you seen my glass? I don’t, uh, I don’t know where I set it.” You were beyond flustered, and a bit upset. George walked off and it all hit you at once.

You were in love with George Daniel, you had almost kissed him, and now everything was all sorts of messed up. You were absolutely screwed.

Ross, not knowing how to make any of this better and wanting to kick himself for interrupting the moment, just stood there and watched as you flitted about the kitchen - mumbling about where you may have set your glass.

After spending a few minutes half-heartedly looking for your glass, you stop and sigh. “You know, what? Fuck it.” And with that, you walk over to grab the full wine bottle sitting on the countertop next to Ross and hurry your way out of the kitchen to find somewhere else to drown your sorrows. So much for enjoying the night.

Helpless, Ross watches you with wide eyes, before looking around to see if anyone else had just seen that. He makes a mental note to check on you later to make sure you were okay, before walking out of the kitchen in the opposite direction - deciding to give you some time to process what just happened.

In the living room, the party was still in full swing and after being roped into a conversation with Adam and Carly, Ross had forgotten about checking in on you.

Almost an hour had passed, and Matty had yet to see you come back from the kitchen. He looked around the room once more, scanning the many faces to see if he recognized yours amongst them. When his eyes found George across the room and didn’t see you anywhere near him, he excused himself from the conversation and set off to find where you had gone to.

After searching the outside patio, the kitchen, one hallway closet, and two bedrooms, you were still nowhere to be found. Matty had absolutely no idea as to where you could be and was growing more worried by the second. He knew you could take care of yourself, and he knew you could hold your liquor - but if he wasn’t mistaken, you had been drinking red wine tonight and you tended to get yourself into unfortunate situations when red wine was added to the equation.

He began walking back down the hall, passing the bathroom before an idea came to mind. Backtracking, he went back to the closed door and knocked twice, calling out to see if anyone was inside. “Hello? Anyone in here?”

When there was no response, Matty tried the door knob and found it unlocked. He opened the door and stuck his face inside, glancing around the bathroom and finding it to be empty. He sighed and was about to leave the bathroom once more when he heard a scuffle come from the shower and -

“Shit.”

Matty stopped in his tracks at the all too familiar voice and pushed the door completely open. He slowly walked over to the shower, before grabbing the curtain and quickly pulling it back only to find your figure awkwardly curled in the bathtub, clutching a mostly-empty wine bottle.

“Um, hi?” You looked up at Matty with a guilty look on your face, giving your best attempt at a smile - one that was none too convincing based on Matty’s responding grimace.

“The fuck are you doing?” Matty looked at you expectantly, glancing from the wine bottle and back to your face.

“Well- you see… I don’t, uh, I don’t know. It was just so calm and quiet, Matty. And the wine was making me just a little dizzy and so was George and - Oh god, George - Matty I really want George but I think I just fucked it all up - oh god. ” You started rambling, your words beginning to slur together into a whine - and if Matty didn’t already think you were drunk when he first saw the bottle in your hands, he was sure of it now.

“Christ, Y/n - how much of that have you had to drink?”

“Only -” You brought up your free hand and pinched your index finger and thumb together, leaving a tiny space between them and squinting to look through it, “- thiiiis much.”

Matty sighed for what felt like the millionth time that night. Since when did he become the responsible one between the two of you.

He walked back to the door, shutting it behind him, before turning back around and sitting down next to the tub. “What happened, love?”

“Oh, nothing really - I just scared George in the kitchen and he tickled me and then we almost kissed but Ross interrupted and then G all but ran out of the room and i couldn’t find my glass and I really needed a drink and so i just grabbed the whole bottle and wanted to go somewhere quiet and so i came in here just in case I had to pee and i ended up in the shower and i can’t stop thinking about George an-”

“Fucks sake, Y/n. Take a breath for me.” You had started talking a mile a minute, gesturing your hands while still holding the bottle of wine and somehow managing to spill some of it down the side of the bathtub.

“Ah, shit. I’ve gone and spilt it again.”

Matty was staring at you with wide eyes, trying and failing to hide his shock. He hadn’t a clue what was going on and was sure this would be a shit-ton to unpackage later - but he’d already had a few drinks and there was no way he was processing any of this tonight.

And you - you were completely plastered and doing a poor job at hiding it. Not that Matty could blame you after everything that had just tumbled from your lips. He watched as you tried to clean up the mess you had made with the corner of your shirt before huffing and letting your head fall back harshly against the shower wall.

The contact made a loud thump, making both Matty and yourself wince. “Y/n, love, are you okay?”

You gave a short, empty chuckle in response and leveled him with a deadpan look. “Oh, I’m just lovely, Matthew. Thank you so much for asking.” You sigh again, lifting your head just to let it fall once more as you groan.

Reaching out for you, Matty stopped you as you went to lift your head. “Okay- maybe don’t be doing that again. Do you need anything? Want me to get you something? Some water maybe?”

“Can you get George for me pretty please?” You closed your eyes, opening them back up when Matty had yet to respond.

He was searching your face, trying to see if getting George was the best idea.

“Matty, please? I’m not gunna do anything stupid, ‘promise.” You gave him a dopey-looking drunk smile, and held up your pinky trying to convince him.

“But-”

“Just because I’m in love with him doesn’t mean I can’t act normal after a few drinks. Please? He’s my ride home.”

Matty’s eyes widen, not expecting that to come out of your mouth. You had never explicitly said how you felt about George before, only that your feelings for him went past platonic and that you were too scared to act on them. It didn’t seem like you were aware of what you had just said, though, so Matty decided to let it slide and store it away for a later time (along with everything else that had happened that night).

He sighed, yet again. “Yeah, okay. I’ll - I’ll go get him, but I need you to stay here, alright?”

Nodding sluggishly, you watched as Matty stood himself up and went to leave the bathroom - assuming he was going to find George.

Once Matty had left and shut the door behind him, you - carefully this time - laid your head back to rest against the wall and closed your eyes. The room had started to tilt and your stomach had started to turn; but you’d be damned if you threw up now.

You had overdone it with the wine, you knew that already, but who could really blame you? After almost kissing the man you were oh-so-unfortunately in love with (who also happened to be your oldest and closest friend) and having him practically sprint out of the room to get away from you, you figured you were entitled to get just a little drunk.

To be fair, you were much more than a little drunk - having downed the majority of the bottle of wine that was full once upon a time - but you needed to not think for a moment.

You didn’t want to think about George’s hands at your sides, or his arms caging you against the counter. You didn’t want to think about how he looked at you so fondly before staring directly, and not-so-subtly, at your lips. You didn’t want to think about his broad shoulders and chest, or that stupidly attractive gold chain necklace that was hanging so beautifully around his neck. You didn’t want to - yet here you were thinking about it anyway.

At this point, your head had started to pound. God, how much had you drank for your head to already be hurting before the hangover had even started? You went to open your eyes, but the lights were blinding and you immediately shut them again.

With the room silent and your eyes closed, you took a moment to look over your night.

You weren’t sure why you had almost kissed him, but you could have sworn he wanted it to happen too. It couldn’t have been all in your head - you were delusional at times, but that was too cruel even for your own mind. That didn’t explain why he had bolted, though. Maybe he was embarrassed to have wanted to kiss you, or maybe he was drunk and thought you were someone else.

The night had become a disaster, and you prayed everyone else was at least having a good time. You had come tonight so you could enjoy some time with your friends before they left on tour, not so you could wallow in self pity over the fact that you wanted your best friend in a completely non-platonic way. How you had managed to get to the point where you were spilling wine in a bathtub was beyond you, however one thing had become extremely clear tonight: you weren’t sure how much longer you would be able to hide these ridiculous feelings before you quite literally exploded into 1,975 tiny little pieces.

You huffed and brought your arm up to rest it over your eyes. This train of thought wasn’t helping your mood one bit. If anything, it just made you want to cry, but you were far too wasted to push yourself off the path of self-destruction.

When you heard the bathroom door open, you didn’t move an inch and kept your eyes closed, assuming it was just Matty again.

“Matty, I really just want George,” you mumbled into your arm that was still draped over your face, while the other hand brought the wine bottle closer to your chest.

“You have me, Darling. I’m right here.”

Your eyes shot open at the familiar voice that most definitely did not belong to Matty Healy, only to find your best friend leaning against the door frame.

“Georgieee-” And by that nickname alone, George knew you were extremely drunk.

Matty had warned him of your state, briefly telling him that you were far from sober - but he hadn’t said it was this bad. You only ever use that name when you’re wasted, it was G or George otherwise

“Hello, Darling.” Your insides turned to mush at the name, physically sinking further into the bathtub and whining.

“Oh God, don’t do that.” You drug your hand down your face, as if you could wipe away the alcohol’s effect. You had no control of what was coming out of your mouth right now, and you probably wouldn’t remember most of this by morning. It was a recipe for disaster and you swore his presence was only making you feel more drunk.

“What- do what?” George looked at you with genuine confusion. Had he done something?

“Do that thing. Y’know - with your eyes and your voice and the ‘Darling’.” you dropped your voice as low as you could at the word ‘darling’, mocking his voice before proceeding to groan loudly. “ugh- that thing that makes me really want you and your attention.”

George chuckled at your words, looking down at you with that same sticky sort of fond look that made you want to melt under his gaze. “You have me, love. I’m paying attention - promise.”

You groaned again, “No - Stooppp.” You immediately looked away from his face and threw your hand over your eyes.

Laughing at your childish actions, George reached over to pry your hand away from your face, smiling as you gave in almost immediately. “Stop what? I’m giving you what you wanted right? You wanted me and my attention - so here I am.”

Apparently you had become one to make many noises tonight, because you simply whined in response, weakly trying to pull your hand from George’s grasp. “No- George you don’t get it. I don’t want it like that. I don’t want you like a best friend.”

At that, he let go of your hand and stared. You obviously hadn’t registered your words, too drunk to realize what you had accidentally let slip, and George didn’t know how to react. He had a gut feeling that you had gotten this plastered because of him, and with it came an unwelcome feeling of guilt.

Of course he wanted to kiss you back in the kitchen, he would be a fool to have wanted otherwise. But he was drunk and you were his best friend. Just because he wanted to kiss you then and there didn’t mean he had the right to ruin your friendship over some complicated feelings.

He doubted you knew what you were saying, anyways. You were drunk. It didn’t mean anything.

“Alright, Y/n. Let’s get you home.”

Sighing and pouting slightly, you reached both arms outwards and made grabbing motions with your hands, signaling for George to help you up. George huffed out a laugh at your actions before grabbing your hands and pulling upwards to get you in a standing position.

Once standing upright, you started feeling dizzy and began to wobble on your feet. Yeah, you had definitely had too much to drink.

Reaching back out to stabilize you, George lightly held both of your hips. “Woah, there Y/n/n. You alright? Can you stand by yourself?”

As soon as the question left his mouth, you felt the room spin and you immediately started to shake your head. “Um nope - no, definitely not.”

George looked at you and sighed. “Okay then, hold on.” And with that, he bent down, placing one arm behind your back and the other behind your knees, before lifting you up bridal style and bringing you into his chest.

You gasped, bringing your arms up and around George’s neck. “What are you doing, I’m fine-”

“Y/n. No you're not, you can barely stand, much less walk. So I'm carrying you outside to get a taxi, and you are going to let me.”

You balked at him for a moment before responding, “yes sir!” and giving him a quick salute. You placed your arm back around his neck as he began walking out of the bathroom and through the house.

You barely registered his good-bye’s as he quickly made his way through the now small crowd of people. How long had you been in that bathroom?

As if he had read your thoughts, “You were in there for a while, most of them already headed home. Mainly just the boys left now.”

You nodded your head as George stepped outside, walking to the road where a taxi was already waiting on the two of you. He set you down, helping you maneuver your way into the car before sliding in next to you.

As soon as he shut the door behind him, you sluggishly slid over to sit in the middle seat and rested your head on George’s shoulder. You twisted, dragging your eyes to look at him, when they caught on his gold necklace again.

You slowly brought your hand up and started messing with the chain. “‘Really like your necklace, G,” you mumbled sleepily into his shoulder. “Think I want one for me, too.”

You glanced up at your best friend - giving him a small, tired smile - and found him already looking down at you.

The eye contact was soft, lacking the heat and tension that was present earlier in the night. George watched as you tried to hold it, but ultimately failed as you grew too tired to keep your eyes open any longer.

That’s how you fell asleep, with your head lying on your best friend’s shoulder and your hand on his chest, lightly gripping his gold necklace.

You vaguely remember being woken up so that George could help you into your flat and being led to your room where you quickly stripped out of your clothes and put on a t-shirt from the top of your drawer before climbing in the bed.

By the time your head hit the pillow, you had already started dozing off again; but you could have sworn you felt your hair being tucked behind your ear and a kiss being pressed to your face.

A soft, “Goodnight, Darling” was the last thing you heard before succumbing to a deep, alcohol-induced sleep.

• • •

When you woke the next afternoon, it was with a horrendous headache and no recollection of what had happened after you ran from the kitchen with a full bottle of wine.

Groaning, you had rolled over to look at the clock when you felt an unfamiliar weight around your neck. You brought your hand to the hollow of your neck, grabbing at the weight and lifting it far enough away from your chest to catch a glimpse at the item. What you saw made your breath hitch as you brought your other hand up to cover your mouth.

It was George’s gold chain necklace.

You checked your phone, finding one notification from George himself:

Don’t be mad - you kept saying how much you liked it, so I just left it with you.

I can always get another one

You softly smiled, thumbing at the gold now lying around your neck. You were absolutely, positively smitten with your best friend, and you hadn’t a clue what you were going to do about it.

That was two months ago, and while you wish you could say that you gathered the courage to make a move before the boys left for tour, you hadn’t been given the chance. Things had gotten busy for you at work and the lads had been preoccupied with tour preparations, leaving you all with no time to get together or speak before they were heading off to the states.

You had exchanged a few messages with them, of course, and you had tried to call when time and work allowed, but it wasn’t quite the same. You missed your friends. You missed George.

The two of you had messaged each other almost daily, however you never seemed to be able to catch each other at the right time - narrowly missing his messages and calls by mere minutes and then being unable to reach him again afterwards.

His gold necklace had found a permanent place around your neck, you rarely took it off - your friends joking that it may as well be a tattoo permanently etched into your skin - but it had become a comforting presence in the absence of George.

When you missed George - which was almost constantly - or when things became a bit much, you would find yourself gripping the necklace, rubbing the gold chain in search of comfort. It was nowhere near the level of comfort George himself brought you, but it did well enough.

You werent, however, moping about just because George was gone. You were a proud, strong, independent woman, and you could function perfectly fine without him. This wasn’t his first tour, and you weren’t new to the overall lack of George. Your world didn’t revolve around him - you had a job and a life outside of the boys - but that also didn’t mean you didn’t miss your closest friends when they went away.

You were fine, honestly, but sometimes you simply wanted to chat with the boys about nonsense or complain about your days like you often did when they were home. On their previous tours, you had been able to still talk to them - but your new job had made it almost impossible and you were struggling.

However, it was the barely missed messages from George that made this tour more difficult than the rest.

It was the simple “Miss you, Darling <3” text that made you unbelievably giddy and the quick voice messages he would leave when you inevitably missed his call - each starting with a “Hello, Darling” and ending with “Love you, Darling. Talk to you soon.”

It was two long months of poor communication and getting flustered by the smallest bits of attention you would get from him. You had missed him before, but the longing that came with his absence this time was different and you were acutely aware of it.

You would tear up watching the clips from the end of their latest show as they bowed to the crowd, George wrapping Matty in one of his hugs that you desperately craved. Your stomach would turn, imagining him out at some club with a girl that wasn’t you, hugging a girl who wasn’t you, kissing a girl that was not you.

It was envy. It was jealousy. It was longing and wanting. You were in love with him, that much you had come to terms with, but it was two weeks before they were due back home that you came to the gut-wrenching conclusion that you weren’t okay with not trying something.

You decided that you couldn’t sit back and watch anymore - you were going to make him realize that you were a fucking catch. You were a fucking catch and you had been there the whole time, through thick and thin, for worse or for better, and you fucking loved him.

When you got a message from George, one inviting you out once they got back, you jumped at the opportunity.They were wanting to get a group together - you, the band, and some other close mutual friends - to go out for a night of fun a few days after Christmas and you were practically buzzing at the thought.

You hadn’t had a proper night out since before the lads had left for tour, and paired with the prospect of seeing your best friends again after months apart, your nerves were completely shot.

Never before had you been nervous to see the boys. You’d known them for years, and you were sure that it was mostly excitement that was keeping you awake at night, but there was still that small bit of anxiety that crept in when you thought about seeing George.

You were so happy to be seeing him again - but now that you were aware of how you felt about him, you were worried that things would change for the worse. What if you were awkward? What if you got flustered and embarrassed yourself? What if those messages were just to his best friend and you had been reading too far into them? What if you put yourself out there to be rejected?

You were spiraling. Why were you spiraling? It’s just George. Your George, your best friend. You were completely overthinking all of it. It wasn’t like you were going to confess your undying love the first time you see him after months. It would be fine - so long as you didn’t freak yourself out. It’s a get together with a bunch of friends, not the end of the world.

Even so, you couldn’t help but feel a bit of pressure to at least look your best. It wasn’t a need to impress anyone, honestly. You just wanted to get dressed up, to look nice after wearing the same boring clothes every day for work - and this outing just happened to give you that opportunity. George being there was just a happy coincidence.

Plus, it finally gave you a reason to wear the new dress you had bought.

You hadn’t intended to buy anything while you were out last week, you just wanted to get out of the house and do something not work related. But then you saw it through the window and you knew you had to at least try it on.

The dress was a far cry from your usual getup - not one for dresses and frilly things - but something about it was calling to you.

It was a simple, silky black dress with a deep v-cut in the neck that perfectly displayed your breasts. The top of the dress was lined with gold and the straps came up and around your neck before zig-zagging down your back and lacing up the dress, forgoing the struggle of any zippers. There were two meticulously placed slits above each knee, giving a clear view of the sides of your thighs and allowing for movement in the fitting material.

It was gorgeous, and you felt powerful in it. The way it emphasized your curves in all the right places, molding to your body and showing off all of your assets had you head over heels for the dress. Overall it was a relatively plain dress- but it fit you so well that it looked like it was intricately made just for you.

And maybe you had George on your mind when you tried it on, maybe you saw an image of it lying on the ground after he had taken it off of you. It wasn’t exactly the worst thought.

And so you bought it. You had no clue when you planned to wear it, you just knew you had to have it - in hopes that maybe, just maybe, that fantasy could come to life.

When George invited you out, you decided it was the perfect opportunity to wear it. So you put on the dress, along with a pair of heels that lace up your legs, and left your flat feeling more confident than you had in months.

All of which brought you to where you are now, at a table in the corner of the club, clutching your drink and watching on as George chats up some girl at the bar.

You watch as she places her hand on his bicep before laughing a little too enthusiastically at whatever it was George had been saying.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think they were getting on just fine and that George was going to have a successful pull tonight; but you do know better.

You see how his eyes go wide when she looks away for a moment, removing her hand from him to grab her drink. The way he looks at her like she's grown two heads and is likely thinking what the fuck is going on.

And when she places her hand back on his arm, you see how he tenses ever so slightly and doesn’t seem to relax.

The sight makes you grip your glass tighter. Any confidence you had when you left the flat had all but disappeared once you caught sight of your best friend. You had been so excited to see him, you didn’t stop to think about whether he would be preoccupied with someone else.

Someone else who is so conventionally pretty that you feel like your dress pales in comparison - even if George seems uncomfortable with all the attention she keeps trying to smother him with.

“If you grip that glass any tighter I think you might break it.”

The unexpected but familiar voice breaks you out of your sulking, if only for a moment, as you sigh before glancing at the man who was now cockily leaning against the post next to your table.

You look him up and down before sighing, “Matthew.”

His response is immediate, “Y/n.”

“To what do I owe the displeasure?”

Matty gasps, throwing his hand over his heart in mock offense and looking at you with wide eyes that show the amusement and mischief dancing in them.

“Now, y/n/n, is that any way to greet your dear friend after two long months apart?”

You shoot him an unamused look in response.

Matty, however, ignores you and continues on. “I couldn’t help but notice your brooding and decided that I’d come save the glass from imminent destruction.”

You roll your eyes and put as much sarcasm as possible into your response. “Wow, Ratty- you’re a true comedian.”

He simply smirks at your tone. “What can I say? I’m a natural.”

You huff out a laugh, unable to stop yourself. You had to admit, you’d missed having him around - regardless of how insufferable he could be.

Matty had a tendency to be so obnoxious that it easily took your mind off of whatever you were originally thinking about, and you knew he acted this way with that exact purpose in mind.

Coming up next to you, Matty smiles as he reaches his arm around your shoulders for a side hug and gives you a shake. “Oh, didn’t you just miss me so much?”

You give a good laugh at that before turning to look him in the eyes and giving him a deadpan look, saying, “Oh, yes. So much, Matty. Not sure how I survived these two, absolutely horrible, months apart.” with the most sarcasm you could muster.

Matty lets out a loud cackle and pulls you closer. “Oh, how I've missed your cheery self.” You can't help but smile at him. “How’ve you been, Y/n/n?”

You shrug, "Alright, yeah. How've you been? How was tour?"

And that question alone sends Matty into a long winded explanation of what they had gotten into during tour and what it was like this time around.

It was somewhere between his description of their Madison Square Garden show and the afterparty that you stopped listening.

It wasn't on purpose by any means, you truly did want to hear about how everything went this time around, but you were distracted.

Distracted because George was still talking to that girl - more like she was talking to him and he was being forced to listen - and he looked like he was growing more uncomfortable by the second. Couldn't she see that he wasn't interested?

Matty was still talking as you continued to watch them interact. You watch her say something and see George's eyes go comically wide as he looks around to see if anyone else was seeing this - or maybe he was looking for an escape.

You see her go to grab his hand and watch as he swiftly moves both hands

away to clutch at his drink. She seems to only pause for a moment before she decides to place her hand on his thigh. His thigh. And you see the way George stiffens under her touch, making you tense up yourself.

"You really might break that glass if you don't let go - that or you're going to burn a hole into that poor girl's head with all your staring."

You jump a little at Matty's sudden comment, not expecting him to direct the conversation towards you again. You look down at your glass, finally realizing that you had, in fact, been gripping the glass so hard that your knuckles had begun to turn white - and you immediately let go.

Looking back at Matty, you see both amusement and sympathy in his eyes, making you let out a scoff.

"Don't know what you're going on about, Matty - what was it you were saying about the afterparty?"

Matty chuckles at your poor attempt at changing the topic, he wasn't letting it slide this time. "Oh don't go pretending like you were listening, Y/n/n. I moved on from the Garden afterparty a good bit ago, you just weren't paying attention.

You make an indignant sound at that. "That's not true, I-"

"Don't even try, love," Matty smirks at you before glancing over at George and patting your shoulder. "No worries, you were distracted - understandably so, he looks a bit cozy doesn't he?"

You scoff immediately. “No, he does not.”

Matty grins at you, “Oh?”

“He looks ridiculously uncomfortable right now, just look at him,” gesturing your arm over in George’s direction.

Matty directs his attention to his best mate, watching as the girl bats her eyelashes and lays her hand on George’s arm. He sees the way George tenses under her touch and the way his eyes widen to whatever she’s just said.

“That’s the fifth time she’s tried to touch him, and he basically freezes every time.” You huff.

“Five times, huh? You keeping count, y/n/n?” Matty turns to head to look at you, entertained by your mood.

You make an indignant noise at his words, “What? No- I- I'm just being a good friend is all.”

Matty nods his head exaggeratedly in false agreement, turning back to watch George. “Right, yes- a good friend… that you happen to be in love with.” Your jaw drops. “Definitely not jealousy.”

“How did you-”

He cuts you off, “Did you know, Y/n -” he briefly glances your way, “that red wine makes you rather talkative?”

You let out a loud groan, placing your head in your hands.

Matty chuckles at your reaction, “Easy now, it’s alright- we already knew as much.”

“We? Oh my god, does George-” Your head shoots up in time to see Matty shaking his head.

“No, you didn’t tell him and he doesn’t know - at least not unless you told him once we left you alone.”

You let out a sigh of relief, slumping into your seat and placing your head back into your hands. Being drunk wasn’t the way you wanted to tell George how you felt.

Honestly, you had hoped to do it tonight, but any confidence you had to address the situation has long since disappeared.

You keep your face in one hand while the other subconsciously starts fiddling with the necklace around your neck, thankful for its presence and the comfort it offers.

“He does look like he’s having an awful time doesn’t he?”

Matty’s words break you out of your head, and you look up to see George with his head thrown back and staring at the ceiling as if he was wishing for it to swallow him whole, paying absolutely no attention to whatever it is that the girl happens to be saying.

“It’s actually painful to watch.” You shake your head at the scene.

“If it’s so painful, why don’t you walk your perky self over there and help him?”

You turn to look at Matty, giving him a glare for his choice of wording. He really thinks he’s funny, doesn’t he?

To be honest, you aren’t sure why you hadn’t gone over there to help him yet. You’d been debating it for a bit now, and there’s every reason to go over there and get him out of the mess he’s found himself in - but there was something still holding you back.

You sigh, “I don’t know, Matty.”

Matty purses his lips and looks back at the bar as his phone buzzes in his pocket.

“Not sure what you think could go wrong - he’s definitely not enjoying himself.”

He makes no move to get it, even as it buzzes a few more times. You open your mouth to snarkily respond to his comment, but the short spaces of silence turn into a long, consistent buzzing sound - completely cutting you off.

The sound is beyond irritating, even more so because Matty still chooses to ignore the vibrations in his pocket. “For fucks sake, Matty. Will you answer your damn phone? At least silence it if you aren’t going to respond.”

“I’m sorry, is it bothering you, y/n/n?” Matty gives you a cheeky smile, to which you stare back unamused, as he finally reaches into his pocket.

He pulls his phone out and unlocks it with every intention of just turning off his phone for a bit - that is, until he sees who the messages are from. He pauses to read the incoming texts and lets out a loud chuckle.

“Well then, y/n. I’d consider this a sign if I ever saw one.”

You look at him confused. “What- What are you going on about?”

He simply glances up from his phone smirking and says, “Looks like your loverboy needs saving.”

He turns the phone around to show you his phone screen where you see 23 messages from George, and you watch as one more comes through that makes you let out a breathy laugh.

Help

Mate seriously

Get me a glass of milk

Asap

Milk me, seriously

Help

Now

Please

At this point come throw a glass of milk on me

So she will fucking fuck the fuck o f f

Matty I’m spamming you for a reason

I know you’re laughing

Stop it

Can you actually be a good mate for once please

Matty

Matt

MATTHEW

You fuckhead why don’t you have your phone on you

THIS IS WHY HANN IS BETTER THAN YOU.

I need you to

HELP ME NOW

Cunt. just now

You read over his messages, laughing at the panic that you can practically feel emanating through the phone. “Oh you are absolutely gonna hear it later.”

“Yeah, yeah - I’m very much aware. It’ll be fine, he’s going to like my solution better anyways.” You’re still chuckling at George’s messages and you look back at Matty as he speaks, pulling his phone back.

“What?” You watch as he quickly types something out, pressing send and putting his phone away.

You’re still staring at him in confusion while he looks at you expectantly. “Well?” He huffs, “Why are you still sitting here? She’s on your man.”

And you don't have time to overthink what it is that you’re about to do before you stand up.

• • •

Part 2

a/n: Okay, that's it for part 1 of 2 - up next is the fun part and my personal favourite half of the story. I hope you guys enjoyed!! see you same time next week <3 xoxo - K

#its about to get filthy #the 1975 #george daniel #george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #team george #george daniel fic #george daniel smut #george daniel fluff #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #K's 1975

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jackles010378 · 4 months

Text

Saturday night special

(Jensen Ackles x you)

When Jensen over hears you singing, he works out a way to get to sing with you in front of a live crowd......

Y/n stood amidst the chaos that was the aftermath of yet another supernatural convention. As always, she found herself tasked with the duty of cleaning up the mess left behind by the boisterous crowd. Armed with a trash bag and a broom, she went about her work. But this time, something was different.

Lost in her own world of melodies, Y/n had her trusty headphones on, with her favorite tunes blasting through them. She was singing along to the music, oblivious to the world around her. Her voice resonated through the empty halls as she danced, completely absorbed in the joy of the music.

Unbeknownst to her, Jensen Ackles her favourite actor had returned to the convention center to retrieve his wallet he had absentmindedly left in the green room. As he approached the door to the green room, he heard a voice that captivated him. He followed the sound, drawn to the angelic tones that filled the air.

Peeking through the slightly ajar door, Jensen was stunned to find Y/n there, sweeping the floor while pouring her heart into the lyrics. Unable to tear his gaze away, he marveled at the raw emotion in her voice. It was a moment of vulnerability that struck a chord in his own heart. She was singing one of his band's songs, "Ain't no tellin" if he could hear it right. He stood there, continuing to watch through the gap in the door as she finished the song,

Knowin' you see me

When I'm 'round the way

Just remember

It'll be alright

And if it's only

Stealing another day

Well then find another time along the way

And ask yourself

Who are you holding onto now?

Oh, who are you holding onto now?

Tell me, who are you holding onto now?

Oh, who are you holding onto now?

(There ain't no tellin' no)

Oh, who are you holding onto now?

(There ain't no tellin' no)

Oh, who are you holding onto now?

(There ain't no tellin' no)

Who are you holding onto now?

Ohh yeah

There ain't no tellin' no

Far away

Every night and every day.....

Jensen let the door close slowly and softly so you wouldn't hear it and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Dialling a number as he walked away the person the other end answered "hey Cliff, I'm gonna need you to do some detective work for me" he said with the biggest smile on his face.

The following night, during the highly anticipated Saturday night concert, Jensen whispered to his co-star and friend, Rob Benedict. A mischievous smile played on his lips as he shared his desire to sing with Y/n. Rob's eyes twinkled with excitement as he agreed to help set up the surprise performance.

As the concert reached its peak, Rob made an announcement to the crowd, his voice filled with anticipation. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special treat for you tonight. Our very own Jensen Ackles will be gracing the stage with a special guest!"

Y/n, who had been enjoying the concert from the sidelines, felt a mixture of surprise and nervousness as she realized all eyes were on her. Y/n was never usually allowed to watch the concerts, with her just being a cleaner she never had the same perks as the other staff that were around to help, but tonight her manager asked for her to be present in the main hall just in case of any mishaps. She felt a gentle tap on her shoulder and turned to find Rob smiling mischievously, pointing towards Jensen who stood on stage, microphone in hand.

Her heart raced in her chest as Jensen extended his hand, his eyes filled with a glimmer of hope. A shy smile adorned Y/n's face as she mustered the courage to take his hand. With a mix of elation and trepidation, she found herself walking towards the stage, feeling the weight of the crowd's anticipation.

As the lights dimmed and the spotlight shone upon them, Y/n and Jensen shared a moment. The beginning chords of Shallow echoed throughout the room as y/n recognised the song. As small smile graced her lips as this was a favourite of hers. She stood in awe, watching as Jensen sang.

Realising it was her turn she took a deep breath. The crowd went silent as her voice filled the room, bouncing off the walls. The entire room fell silent as she sang, Jensen standing by her side listening to her as if it was the first time he had heard her. Thinking back to the moment he stumbled upon her first time round. He thanked himself for leaving his wallet in the green room that night.

The chemistry between them was electric, their voices resonating through the venue, captivating the hearts of everyone present.

In that enchanting moment, Y/n's shyness melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of joy. She realized that sometimes, it's in the moments of vulnerability that our true talents shine brightest. The crowd erupted in applause, their voices melding with Y/n and Jensen's, creating an atmosphere of pure magic.

From that night on, Y/n embraced her musical talents with newfound confidence. Her collaboration with Jensen became the stuff of legends, their duets continuing to captivate supernatural conventions for years to come. Jensen would always see if she was available to sing with him when he returned and she'd always say yes.

As she stepped off that stage that night, she knew that sometimes, the most extraordinary moments in life happen when we let go of your fears and take a leap of faith.

TAGLIST: @k-slla @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @janineb86 @deans-daydream @alternativeprincess94 @nescavaneck

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abouttofillhisshoes · 6 days

Text

Do you wanna dance? - Matty Healy

A/N: i couldn't help myself, these two deserve to be happy forever and ever xx

this is a part two to this request i did earlier, but can also be read separately!!

wc: 3k

content warnings: mentions of drugs (weed), cursing, typical MPIND banter, kissing, a touch suggestive?

May, 2009

“I’m so fucking boreddd, kill me now.” you drag your feet on the ground, letting yourself be pulled along by Matty, his hand tightly clasped against yours. He rolls his eyes, begging you to walk properly, and that you would find something to do soon.

“Carolines?” he suggests, pointing in the general direction of the old paper factory, it being maybe a 25 minutes walk from where you were currently at. You raise your eyebrows at him, a skeptical look on your face. “Really?” you ask, whining about how your feet hurt and you didn't want to walk any further.

“Pretty please, I promise I'll make it worth your while.” he lowers his voice, winking at you cheekily. A groan leaves your lips, and you shove him off to the side, taking a swig from a freshly opened bottle of cheap tesco wine.

“I’d do alot for you,” you burp, making Mattys face scrunch up in disgust “but i am not shagging you on a terrace, not a chance in fuck.” he laughs like music to your ears, a gross snort slipping out.

You suggest calling your other mates, inviting them for a few drinks on the balcony, just like old times. That small platform just off the main office held dear memories, good and bad. Matty immediately shakes his head, bringing your hand away from the phone in your pocket. “Just you and me, no one else.” He sounds different, you couldn't quite place it.

“Carry me.” you joke, pressing a dramatic hand to your forehead. Imagine your surprise when you feel a firm hand press against your back, and another wrap around the back of your knees, hauling you up. Your hip hits the bare skin on Mattys chest, another ‘stylistic’ choice of his, only being covered in a thin, see through black shirt.

“Jesus, fuck, let me down!!” you scream, attempting to push him away.

All he does is giggle at your struggle, only pulling you closer, planting a sweet kiss on your lips.

“D’you think I'm too weak to carry you?” you huff, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“I’m too heavy, you’ll proper hurt yourself-” he laughs again, almost in disbelief. “Oh, come off it, I'm pretty strong, you know!” you roll your eyes, shooting him a worried look. He nods, leaning in to give you what you think is another kiss.

Instead, he fucking licks across your face, making you squirm away at the odd feeling.

“Perv.” you spit, turning your head away from him. He nuzzles his face into your freshly curled hair, humming contentedly as he starts walking down the sidewalk. You notice him adjusting his hands a few times, trying to get a better grip, so you ask to be let down. He refuses, like he’s trying to prove something to someone. It was no use, he was going to see this through, apparently.

It was wet, the rain from a few hours prior making everything smell like damp concrete. It was barely sunset, the sky painted several shades of blue, purple and orange, clouds sparsely littering the sky. Trees were finally starting to green again, and the warm air kissed your skin, warning you of the hot summer to come. It was late May, breezy and comfortable, even if it was pissing it down most of the time, you didn't mind it, rarely getting sick anyway.

The back entrance was covered by stacks of cardboard, soggy and flimsy from the rain. Matty tries to set you down gracefully onto a rock nearby, miserably failing as when trips over his own feet, sending you both flying down onto the soft, grassy ground.

Laughing at the stumble, he kisses you while you're still under him, gripping your cheeks between his fingertips. The moment doesn't last long, wet dirt sullying the back of your shirt, making you whine like a small child. He reluctantly rolls off you, offering a hand to help you stand. Wobbly on your very impractical heels, Matty takes a jab at your choice of footwear.

“Who wears heels to go walk around? You've got fucking ankles of steel or something, thats mad.” he laughs, gesturing at your red platforms, thin straps the only thing keeping them attached to your feet.

“They’re platforms.” you correct him “You’d know that, if you knew anything ever. Fuck you, you’re just jealous i’m taller now.” It was true, you towered slightly over him, even if only a few inches, it gave you a sense of power.

Twirling your hair around your fingers, you let Matty lead you up the stairs, hand firmly gripping your wrist. His nails were painted black to match, though they were significantly more chipped than yours, the nail polish peeling off in chunks.

Still, you found it endearing how he always wanted to use the things you did, whether it be makeup, clothes, even colors. What was yours was his, and what was his was yours, evident au cause de the blue top you were wearing. The stupid tourist shirt, his prized possession.

The wind had died down a bit by the time you reached the smashed glass door leading to the terrace. Ross had managed to fall through it one night, absolutely wrecked off half a bottle of tito’s, no mixer. The four of you spent hours afterwards trying to pick small shards of glass out of a blacked out Ross, utterly convinced he was dying of alcohol poisoning. Fucking drama queen.

Orange light floods the terrace, painting the worn down sofa in a warm hue. Matty smirks slightly as he plops down onto it, patting the space beside him, asking a silent question. You smile, the sight of him making your heart swell up with love. God, he looked beautiful, it was almost too much. Thicker chunks of his hair were now dyed blonde, streaks of pink peeking through. Impulse decision, though a good one, the bit of color really suited him.

“You got any?” he asks, tucking both his hands behind his head, spreading his legs, his shirt riding up slightly. A suggestion.

“What do you take me for?” you giggle, already pulling out your weed. He never brought his own, insisting that if you wanted to roll them yourself, you’d also buy it. His logic was deeply flawed, but honestly, you loved him too much to tell him.

Rolling the spliff, flashes of memories flip through your mind, you hear Hann’s voice.

‘Girls don't roll their own spliffs’ God, he was such a dickhead.

“Girls don’t roll their own spliffs.” you giggle, grinning at Matty as you lick it closed, admiring your work. George had given you a few tips, and you’d actually gotten better. Mattys angelic laugh fills your ears, bouncing off the concrete walls.

“Fuck yeah, I'm your girl.” he says proudly, brushing tangled curls out of his face, slightly more tan than usual, the sun having branded his fair skin. Your eyes roll of their own accord, and you nudge him with your elbow, muttering quietly.

“Shut up mate, honestly.” he lets out a dramatic gasp at your words, pressing a hand to his chest is faux shock.

“Do mates do this?” You jump as he snatches the spliff out of your hand, grabbing your face just like he did on the grass before, pressing a hot kiss right beside your mouth, just missing it. Biting back a moan, you feel his tongue slip past your lips, running across your own.

“Okay, fuck off now, thanks.” you smile, unable to stop yourself. Not when he looked at you with such joy, eyes glimmering in the warm light.

He hands the joint back to you, your hands brushing against each other. It felt loving, purposeful, real.

Grabbing the lighter from your right pocket, you run your fingers across the worn rhinestone, fondly remembering the day he’d made it for you.

The way he was reluctant at first, only giving in after you physically dragged him through the doors of the hobby shop, forcing him to pick out decorations. His concentrated expression as he tried to pick off the cheap stones, having to let you help him do it after numerous failed attempts. It was one of your favorite days with him, wishing you could relive it a thousand times over.

Laying back, you hold it in front of you, rotating it over the flame to get an even burn. The smell flooding your senses, you close your eyes, bringing the spliff to your lips. Inhaling deeply, you feel Matty shuffle next to you, shifting and making the sofa creak under him. You try to ignore it, keeping your eyes shut as you feel the drug hit your system, a warm, weightless sensation enveloping you. It was when he moved for the third time that you snapped your eyes open, going to complain.

“Christ, will you stop moving around like tha-” your words get caught in your throat, dying out.

He wasn't in the spot next to you anymore. No, he was on the floor. On the floor, on one knee, holding a small, red velvet box in his right hand. Your breath hitches as you notice the expression on his face. Anxiety. You could speak, hell, you could barely fucking think. Matty was in front of you, kneeling, holding a white diamond that was shimmering in the light, like a goddamn dream.

You watch as he opens his mouth to speak several times, closing it before any sound comes out. His eyes fill with panic as you sit up, eyes wide in shock. He was proposing. Properly proposing, with a ring and everything, down on one knee. You’re convinced this is a dream, of a fucking hallucination, something more believable than what was actually happening in front os you.

“Marry me?” he forces out, hand slightly shaking as you look him up and down, mouth completely dry. You felt tears stream down your face. Obviously, with Matty not being able to read your mind, his eyes dart around your features, trying to gauge what your reaction meant.

“Holy shit, what the fuck is wrong with you.” are the first words you say, hands coming up to shield your face. The panic only grew as he tries to speak, only things coming out being bits of words and ‘sorry’.

Shaking your head violently, you reach out your hand, presenting your ring finger. Tears well up in Mattys own eyes, dangerously close to rolling down his puffy cheeks.

“Yes, oh my god, I fucking love you so much.” you scream, bouncing off your spot on the sofa, lunging towards a very emotional Matty. You catch his lips in a kiss, wrapping your arms around him tightly, not daring to let go

“Really? You’ll marry me?” he says in genuine disbelief, his left hand gripping your lower back, pulling you close.

“Of course i’ll marry you Matty, christ.” he pushes you away, giddily slipping the silver ring onto your ring finger, planting a soft kiss to the metal.

“Fucking hell that is a boulder.” you look at the diamond in awe, the stone basically blinding you. He grins from ear to ear, grabbing the fabric of your top, kissing you softly, a gentle warmth spreading throughout your body as your lips make contact.

“Only the best for my wife.” giggles leave his lips, delirious and ecstatic, disbelief still evident in the way his eyes rake over you, settling on the ring. Pressing a hand to your cheeks, he thumbs the tears away, kissing all over your face. Your heart thrums against your ribcage, threatening to burst out of your chest.

“Bit early, innit?” you comment, sucking in a deep breath, eyes glued to Mattys. You're both on your knees, concrete digging into the skin of your legs. It was cold, uncomfortable, but you truly couldn't care less.

“Never too early, Mrs. Healy” he smirks in that cheeky way of his, both hands settling onto your shoulder, rubbing small shapes into your skin. The moment doesn't feel real, nothing does. You hope to god that this isn't a dream, that that this was really happening.

“Can Hann be the flower girl?” your inability to be serious for five fucking seconds shines through, the both of you falling into each others arms, uncontrollably laughing. Mattys eyes crease as he giggles, the feel of his hands on your body is heavenly, l of his hands touching your skin makes you truly believe you've reached a higher plane of existence.

“Only if he wears the dress.”

“Deal.” you say, knowing well that getting Adam Hann into a dress would require months of begging, maybe even bribery. You would probably need to buy him a fucking house to get him to even consider it.

More laughter, more kissing, more planning a future neither of you had ever actually thought possible. A future with each other.

Matty fumbles around in his pockets, pulling out his Ipod, initials erratically scratched into the metal. You raise your eyebrows at him, asking a silent question of ‘what the fuck?’

“Do you wanna dance?” he asks, smirking at you as he swiftly stands up, extending his hand. This is so incredibly cliché, and you know that yourself, but you can't bring yourself to care.

His fingers press one earphone into your ear, before doing the same to his own. He smiles sweetly, expression softening. This was true, raw, unbridled love.

“Can I choose the song?” you ask, fingers trailing down Mattys jaw as he settles his hands onto your waist. Nodding, he hands you the Ipod, letting you select whatever you wanted.

“I love you so much, my darling girl.” he mumbled into your hair, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Stop being such a sap,” you laugh, quickly adding a “I love you too.” as to not offend him. As if he would be offended.

Suffragette City blared through the headphones, the music filling every corner of your being. Your hips swayed, and so did his, guiding you lightly with the hands gripping you tightly.

You didn't speak, letting Matty spin and twirl you around, breaking out into fits of laughter when you almost tripped over your ridiculous heels. Fuck, they were really a bad idea.

Stopping for a second, you reach down to unclasp your shoes, kicking them off without a second thought.

“Already taking your clothes off? We haven't even said our vows yet-” he teases, being met with a sharp look and a hand threaded into his hair, pulling him into a deep kiss.

“Don't ruin the moment, you wanker.” you mutter against his lips, licking into his mouth as you let him take back control of your movements.

You don't know how long you dance for, but by the time the two of you finally come up for air, the sun had almost completely disappeared behind the tall buildings of the city.

Your life together flashes through your mind. That very first kiss. That night in The Sound. Ruby. The drugs. The lighter, smashed into little bits. Your fight with the guys. The night he had called you, shaking and crying, scared. The photos. The sight of him, down on one knee.

This was it. Everything that had happened; every mistake, every fight, every passionate kiss, every gasp of pleasure when skin met skin, every tear shed since that night at the bus stop had been leading up to this final moment.

You and Matty,

Matty and you

Forever.

Properly this time

The music faded, the sound of rainfall pattering loudly against the metal roof replaced it.

A Suffragette City, A Suffragette City

Quite all right

A Suffragette City

Too fine

A Suffragette City, ooh, A Suffragette City

Oh, my Suffragette City, oh my Suffragette City

Ah, Suffragette

Suffragette!

#i actually cried during this #its so sweet #no smut for once surprise surprise #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy angst #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfiction #the 1975 smut

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