#♤: matty blurbs

[abiiors]

Do you have any plans to write smut ? 👀👀. I'm starving and begging for a crumb

.ೃ࿐ the jeweller's hands

(wrote this on my phone and it’s not proofed, sorry!!!)

cw: cheating, mean matty

“keep it down or i’ll fucking stop,” matty growls in your ear the moment your back hits the wall. 

fifteen minutes. that’s how long you lasted before seeking him out in the crowd—a risky fucking business considering you’re attending this stupid little charity gala with your husband in the first place. 

regardless, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. 

not that you’re even thinking about him right now… the man you came here with is the absolute last thing on your mind. your thoughts wander—first to matty in a suit, to his sleeves straining over his biceps and the way he wears no tie to this formal event. his shirt collar is open too, tattoos peeking out surrounded by a fine dusting of hair that’s gone slightly grey now, just like the grey in his curls. 

he’s a vision. and now he’s here. inches away. trapping you between him and the wall and grinding his pelvis against yours in a way that makes it very clear what he’s here for. 

matty hand tightens on your hips. 

“here?”

“oh, don’t act coy with me now.”

his voice drops down to a harsh whisper, voice full of venom and lust but he only steps closer and the heat in your belly burns hotter. 

so what if this is wrong… 

“didn’t think about that when you were making fuck me eyes at me out there, did you?”

no. you didn’t. 

but he can chase you a bit more. 

“someone’s going to hear us,” you all but purr in his ear, niping at his earlobe. matty’s hold on you tightens and suddenly there’s not enough air in this fancy, marbled bathroom. 

“then you’re just going to have to shut up and take it like a good little slut, yeah?”

there’s no way you would ever let anyone else speak this way to you. but matty is older, matty knows what he’s doing. matty, with his calloused hands and a fallen angel face knows how to make your blood sing.

he is the only one that gets a pass. 

“strip,” he orders and takes a small step back. 

you can’t help the small choked sound of protest that leaves you but then there he is again, spinning you around and undoing the zip of your dress before you can make another sound. 

“can you step out of your dress on your own?” his mouth lowers to your ears, warm breath cascading down your cheeks, lips brushing against your skin ever so slightly. “it won’t be pretty if i have to do it, love. it might end up on the floor in tatters.”

you swallow harshly and nod just once. 

he’s on you the moment the dress pools around your feet and you stand there, back pressed to the wall in just a thong. you don’t miss the way his eyes hungrily take you in—the curve of your hips and up to your stomach. then to your tits. 

of course, his eyes linger there—on your peaked nippes and then up to your neck. you resist the urge to squirm under his gaze. 

“are you just gonna stand there and watch me?”

matty clicks his tongue. 

“you’ve gotten bold, haven’t you?”

“only because you’ve gone soft,” you taunt. it has the effect you want it to have. 

matty crashes his lips against yours before you’re even properly done speaking. it’s a furious kiss—teeth clashing together on impact, your lipstick smeared all over your mouth. this isn’t a soft kiss. it’s not a lovers’ kiss. 

this is a kiss that stings.

“that what you think?” he speaks when he takes a moment to breathe and your heart leaps in your throat. oh he sounds angry. the kind of anger that he’s about to take out on you… 

“we’ll have to change that won’t we…”

“we—fuck!”

you feel a sharp sting as matty pinches your nipple between his fingers, taking advantage of the piercing, digging the cold metal further into your skin until your legs start shaking. wildfire runs through your blood, burning away any sane thought in its way, leaving you with just desire and lust and complete abandon.

“what was that? couldn’t hear you that well…”

this time you don’t try. 

“please–shit! please, matty!” you whine, trying to clench your thighs together, but he pushes his knee between them, his body holding yours against the wall. 

the bathroom somehow seems smaller now, hotter than it was before. the only thing between you and someone else walking in is a flimsy locked door. 

anyone could knock. anyone could—

“you’re thinking,” he tuts. he’s right though. you are thinking…

good thing he’s right there to fuck you dumb. 

“good little sluts don’t overthink,” his fingers hook harshly into the waistband of your thong and you already know what’s coming next. 

a ripping sound echoes in the room and your thong falls to the floor, ripped to shreds. 

“gonna send you back to your husband with my cum dripping down your thighs, darling, that what you want? hmm?” his words swirl around your brain at a dizzying pace making you nod involuntarily. 

that is what you want… to feel him so deep inside you that you won’t forget it for days. to have your lungs full of his cologne. to have your fingers shoved so deep in your mouth that you’d gag around them. 

your heart pounds in your entire body as you help matty undo his belt with shaky fingers. he’s already so hard under your touch, groaning as you palm him first through his trousers and then through his boxers. 

fuck. for a moment you wonder what he would taste like. if he would let you if you just dropped to your knees right here. but the desperation to feel him inside, hitting the spot over and over again, has you drooling. 

“spread your legs,” he whispers roughly and his fingers find your clit. 

lazily, he swipes through your folds and collects some of the wetness making you hiss in pleasure. your eyes roll to the back of your head—this is what it should feel like always, no thoughts, just him and his hands and—

without warning you feel the tip of his cock entering you and you bite onto his shouder, desperate to keep the screams in. 

“matty—”

but his mouth is on yours once again, swallowing every moan and scream and hiss of pleasure as he pounds into you mercilessly. 

his hips slam into yours at a bruising pace; urgent and desperate, like he can’t get enough. it’s feverish even, almost as if you might slip away if he lets go even just a little. matty lets out a string of curses between each kiss. 

somewhere in the back of your mind, you know your lips will be swollen and red by the time you’re done. you know you’ll have to find some way to look put together before going out again. but right now you don’t care… not when your entire body is full of ecstacy. not when matty makes you feel so so good.

sooner or later it will end, your mind reminds you. it will end and you’ll have to gather yourself and go out and play good little wife to a man you barely care about. 

it will end and you will go your separate ways only to find each other again in some shady corner or some brightly lit bathroom at some pretentious event…

matty’s breath hitches when you clench around him. 

the feeling in your spine is overwhelming—the tingles, the little electric jolts, the bursts of pleasure that build and build until the knot inside your stomach tightens impossibly fast. 

“matty—gonna cum–please…”

“feel so good, darling,” he replies. a rare praise coming from him but it intensifies the dizziness, the bloodrush. “let me feel you,” he coaxes. this time, his voice comes out much softer, almost…tender. 

“cum for me,” he speaks and pulls your thighs higher over his hip. suddenly he’s reaching so much deeper, hitting the spot harder and the trembling in your body increases tenfold.

your legs spasm, barely holding you upright and a wave of pleasure crashes over you.

the next time you open your eyes, matty’s face is contorted with pleasure, eyes half-lidded, jaw slack, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows harshly and you feel the warmth of his cum dripping out of your cunt and down your thigh. exactly what he’d promised.

if you look down, you’ll find his hands imprinted on your hips—red marks in the shape of his fingers that will no doubt bruise in the next couple of days. something of his for you to hold on to, long after he leaves. a welcome sting.

he does look down when he opens his eyes—looks down at the way your bodies are joined together, how your legs part around him, how your body fits into the crevices of his so perfectly. he almost smiles then but shakes his head slightly.

you expect him to say something, anything that would fill in the silence.

you were good, darling.

you were amazing.

come home with me.

he says none of those things. silently, matty zips us his trousers and fixes his belt. then he brings his thumb to your chin, softly wiping away the lipstick stains, up to your thumb so he can do the same there.

his eyes remain trained to your lips but you suspect it’s more cowardice this time than lust.

“get dressed,” matty speaks and his voice comes out brittle, devoid of feelings. “don’t want your husband to come looking for you.”

and then he steps away, as if none of this ever really happened.

[abiiors]

Veee could you write something with matty where reader is also an artist (a way less known one) and its just pure fluff with both of them being inspired by one another?

Feel free to ignore ofc!!🫶🫶🫶

muse - matty x reader

a/n: this took a very different direction than originally planned and got slightly existential sorry about that 💀💀 but i hope you like it regardless <33

divider by @/cafekitsune

cw: mentions of smut, talks of death, general fluff and sappiness.

the artist flicks through the feature.

her name is printed in big letters on the cover of the monthly issue, her face--smiling and excited--next to the centrepiece of her latest art collection: cupid and psyche. the painting is stunning, a riot of bold colours and patterns but the at the centre is a man, his face hidden, his jet black curls tousled. his body is relaxed, she thinks there's an air of carefreeness about him.

and she'd know that for sure, after all that day is etched into her memory.

when she feels a familiar pair of arms wrap around her, she smiles.

"you're rather proud of the feature, aren't you?" matty's voice holds a little teasing note. she's stared at the feature for close to thirty minutes now, discreetly pinching herself in the same spot on her arm. (it sports a tiny, barely-there bruise now)

"good," matty nuzzles his face into her neck, softly kissing the skin, "you should be. the exhibit was fucking gorgeous."

"mmm, because you were the centrepiece?" fondly, she teases back, but the memory flashes in front of her eyes--the bustling art gallery, matty in a corner, wearing a plain hoodie and jeans and a cap hiding half of his face, absolutely brimming with pride.

she remembers the journalists asking about the man in all the paintings, the one whose face no one can see. "he's my muse," she says every time, "this collection is dedicated to him."

"someone's going to connect the dots," matty walks around her, settling himself next to her on the sofa. instantly, they rearrange themselves into a tangle--her legs on his lap, his arm around her, her head on his shoulders, his head on hers. "if they looked carefully, they'll make the connection."

"matty, we have been each other's muse for years and no one's found out. i don't think they're going to start now. besides," she snorts, "i think the art world thinks i've made you up in my mind. won't be the first time an artist's gone insane."

matty laughs. "maybe you have. you always say i'm too good to be true."

when she can't think of a retort, she sticks her tongue out, shrieking away when he smothers her in kisses.

"seriously though, it's fun writing about you. singing about you. and i love seeing myself through your eyes." suddenly matty sounds all sober and serious. she thinks his voice even wavers slightly at the end. he blinks quickly though, and just like that the brightness in his eyes is gone.

"love it when you write about me too," she teases, "love being called a gemini and a sexy girl, such poetry."

"oi! i put my heart into that! it's a precious memory for me."

"the memory of us fucking in the new bath for the first time?"

matty giggles like a teenager, hiding his face in her hair. it's fun to rile him up like this, so she continues, poking him in the ribs. "or waking up the next day with a head cold because we stayed in the cold water for so long hmm?"

"you took care of me though, and so i think you deserve to have a song written about you. or a whole album works too i think." then matty tuts. "actually, no. don't wanna tell anyone it's about you, that'll ruin the magic."

"ruin the magic?"

"of being your muse and having you as mine. i think a hundred years from now, when people would see your art as the artwork of this generation, and my music as the tune of our times--"

"tune of our times..."

"yeah, quit laughing at me!" matty flicks her nose, quickly kissing it after. "so when my music becomes the tune of our times, i think people will see it then. they will make the connections."

secretly, she loves the idea--that their love might transcend time and space through their art. that decades from now their names might be whispered together, even though they aren't just yet.

"of course, we'll be buried together by then. same grave by the way, very romeo and juliet of us."

"that's morbid!" she laughs sharply, "what will the epitaph say?"

matty hums for a bit, thinking, his eyes flutter shut for a second or two almost like he needs to focus on the half formed thought until it's a complete sentence. then he excitedly clears his throat and gently holds her face between his hands.

"here lie the artist and the muse; inspiring each other in death as they did in life."

[abiiors]

glasses matty smutty blurb PLS🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

oh i LOVE his glasses 🤤😋 // minors dni!

matty with papers strewn in front of him—now that’s a sight you don’t see often.

it’s a late hour, almost coming up to midnight, when you got tired of waiting for him in the bedroom and decided to go in search of him. in the study of all places, at the desk that he barely ever uses (for work-related purposes anyway...)

matty sits in his pyjamas—well, he’s shirtless with a pair of joggers sitting low on his hips. that and his dishevelled curly hair with the greys peeking through and his glasses on the bridge of his nose. you could watch him like this for hours yet. but it’s midnight and you’re sleepy and impatient. 

besides, he was alerted to your presence the second you crossed the threshold. 

“you should be in bed,” he scolds lightly, looking at you over his glasses. fuck. it’s the stare that gets you. 

“you should be in bed! i got tired of waiting for you.”

he shakes his head lightly, pushing one piece of paper away from him and pulling another closer. “and so you came to distract me?”

“distract?” you tut, walking in closer with the blanket wrapped tightly around you. underneath it, you’re practically naked—only in a little cami and underwear but he doesn’t know that. “i came to keep you company.”

matty quirks an eyebrow skeptically. once you get closer to him, you take a look at the papers. it’s words. well, they’re handwritten lyrics. similar and yet different—multiple versions of the same song. 

despite his skepticism, his arm is already around your waist and pulling you onto his lap, where you settle quite nicely against his warm chest, wrapping the blanket around both of you. it would be quite the domestic scene, really. except matty keeps staring at you over his glasses, pink lips curled into a smirk. 

“company,” he mumbles. “let’s see how long you last.”

and well, that question is answered not even five minutes later, when you find your face buried into the crook of his neck. he smells of day-old perfume and cigarettes. somewhere in there is a faint hint of his body wash from when he showered a few hours ago (without you, much to your disappointment). and now that your face is buried there anyway, you might as well press a few kisses on his neck… 

matty chuckles and the sound reverberates deep within you. 

“that was a record, babe,” he teases, making matters worse by placing a hand on your thigh. 

against your will, a whine escapes you as his fingers creep higher, intensifying the buzz in your head. 

“go on,” matty whispers, lips right over the shell of your ear, “help yourself.”

it’s only then that his intentions become clear to you, well the lackthereof really. because he does not intend on helping you at all… the most he will do is offer his thigh that’s very conveniently wedged right between your legs. 

“matty!” you whine again, trying not to outright beg but clearly it’s not working very well.

“matty!” he mocks in a high-pitched voice. “it’s this or nothing, sweetheart. you pick.”

but before he’s even done speaking, you rock your hips back and forth, grinding on the thick material of his joggers and muffling your whines in the crook of his neck. grazing his soft skin with your teeth and lips until he’s gripping your waist tightly, helping you grind on him better. 

“i need more,” you grit out, frustrated and trying so hard to get into a good rhythm. to make it good enough. but this amount of friction simply isn’t working. or maybe it’s the fact that you don’t have his usual filthy words telling you what a perfect little slut you are… such a good girl for him. 

“then you can wait.” the nonchalance in his voice grates on you, making you double down and grind on him harder—to feel some friction against your clit, desperately clenching around nothing. 

and yet all that builds in the pit of your stomach is more frustration. all you feel between your legs is more ache. 

enough, that you tug his face down and kiss him hard, biting his bottom lip and conveneying your frustration through it until he hisses and pulls back. 

“oh you’re asking for it!” he warns. the glasses are now slightly askew and his hair even more messy then before. but matty breaths harder and his pupils are so dilated that his eyes are almost entirely black. 

“so punish me,” you challenge. satisfaction washes over you at the sight of his bitten lip—red and slightly swollen. 

matty laughs. it’s cold and deep and oh so slightly sadistic—the beginnings of a promise. his mouth lowers back over the shell of your ear again. 

“you might not remember your name by the end of this, but you will remember those words.”

his voice is whispery and hoarse and a chill runs through you, because you know whatever he said just now? those words are a promise. 

[abiiors]

Would love to see Matty and reader going to an award show together <3

I don't even know if this is what you wanted but here we go

warnings - PURE SMUT, MINORS DNI! Semi-public sex my god this is so horny, semi-public masturbation too, I’m sorry. Slight degradation, female reader.

Slit

The star of the show tonight is your dress. You’re sure of it. 

He hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you all night. Even with all the questions being thrown their way on the red carpet, his focus has never wandered away from you. Occasionally, George has to step in with some witty comment when Matty loses his train of thought halfway through a question. And all for fair reasons too. 

The high—very high—slit of your dress ends just at the apex of your thigh. The scarlet compliments and contrasts your skin perfectly, right down to the matching dark lipstick and nails. The fabric hugs every curve seamlessly, moves like water every time you move. And so he can’t control the fantasies that fill his head. 

‘You look stunning tonight, love,’ Adam’s voice brings him out of his thoughts. It’s an innocent compliment directed at you but he can’t stop the way his jaw ticks. For fuck’s sake, it’s his married best friend and yet he feels irrational jealousy when you give Adam a dazzling smile. But then your eyes come to rest on him and an insane amount of satisfaction washes over him at the way your pupils dilate. 

‘Matty,’ you breathe out his name, ‘I was waiting for you!’

‘Here I am,’ he tries to sound normal. But he can’t stop himself from stepping closer and leaning down close to your ear, ‘I’m going to tear that dress off you when we get home.’

To any passers-by, it would look like a normal conversation; just him making sure you can hear him over the loud crowd. But he doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches, the way your eyes almost flutter shut. 

‘Shall we?’ he asks like a gentleman and extends his arm. 

The lavishly decorated venue is set up with small round tables. An assistant guides you all to where your names are written on place cards and there are instantly several people to pull your chairs out for you and offer you champagne. But Matty insists that he pull out your chair for you and get you a glass. He wants to be a proper gentleman before he has you in his bed, acting like his favourite little slut. 

He feels your arm snake up his bicep and you tilt your chin up to look at him. ‘You know how this dress hugs my body so well?’ you ask softly.

He swallows roughly and nods once. Truth is, that’s all he has been thinking about this whole time but he wants to know where this conversation is going. 

‘Well, that means… I can’t exactly wear anything underneath.’ And just like that, you press a sweet, chaste kiss to his cheek and settle into your chair. 

Matty is sure he’s about to combust any minute now. The high slit, his unrestrained access to you, rests in his eyesight. But he’s going to take his time with you tonight. 

You, on the other hand, are enjoying all of this quite a lot. Even when you’re engrossed in deep conversation with George and Ross, you’ve got one ear trained on Matty and all his little reactions. Every time you cross and uncross your legs—something that is for his benefit as much as it is for yours—he seems to fumble his words. And that’s when you feel it. 

Calloused fingers rest on your knee, drawing tight, small circles before they snake up your thigh in almost a loving caress. He’s doing a very good job of laughing and joking with the rest of the table, but the fingers; the fingers run up and down. Just enough that they come to rest on the inside of your thigh before he drags them back down to your knees. 

‘Matthew,’ you chide lightly and he has the audacity to raise an eyebrow in confusion. ‘What’s happening?’

‘What do you mean?’ he asks as he cocks his head to one side. 

‘The cameras are on us, love,’ you speak through gritted teeth and resist a shiver as his hands come to rest on your thigh once again. 

He moves higher still, right until you feel his cold ring against your clit and a jolt goes through you. You barely resist the urge to moan, disguising it with a small cough instead. Involuntarily, you clench your thighs together, effectively trapping his hand between them and a smug smile crosses over his features. He’s gotten exactly where he’s been wanting to. 

He leans back, hand still where it was and winks at you, ‘the cameras are on the stage, love,’ he tuts, ‘and look, it’s your favourite artist performing too, isn’t it?’

He’s right, it is but you can’t give a single fuck about that right now. All that matters is his cold ring, resting against your heated cunt and the fact that it is simply not enough.

‘You’re so–so impatient,’ you gasp when his fingers move, ‘couldn’t keep your hands off me till we got home?’

‘Mmm, and why would I do that?’ he murmurs, ‘you look so pretty like this. Trying to get off to my hand under the table with other people around.’ His voice has turned mocking and taunting, the edge in it is clear and you even see his other hand creeping towards his own crotch. 

How the others haven’t noticed your little gasps and whispers is beyond you but they are all engrossed in their drinks and the performance on stage, in giggling and joking around while you feel like you’re about to scream in frustration. 

‘Matty…’ your voice is low, almost a whine, ‘please…’

‘Please what?’ he turns his hand and runs a finger through your slick, wet folds. Then he hums appreciatively, ‘well, this is a…situation.’

‘Please,’ you repeat, ‘I need you.’

The cocky bastard that he is, he only drags his fingers till they rest on your clit and begins to draw mind-numbingly slow circles. ‘Be quiet, now,’ he chastises, ‘we don’t want people finding out, do we?’

It’s as if you’ve woken up from a daze because, of course, there are people all around you. High-profile celebrities and their assistant, servers at the event and cameras. Oh god, the cameras. If even one of them happened upon you in this position…

You stand up abruptly, practically throwing Matty’s hand back into his lap. Your knee bangs against the table, a few glasses wobble precariously and five other pairs of eyes snap toward you. The flush that’s crept up your neck intensifies.

‘I’m going to use the loo,’ you announce in a squeaky voice and practically make a run out of there. 

The hallway you’ve found is nice and quiet. But most importantly, it’s a forgotten little thing behind the venue that no one seems to know about. You lean against the wall, heart still racing, cunt still very much throbbing and your hand finds a way between your legs. You rub slow circles just like he had been minutes ago but your fingers simply don’t work the way his do. 

Even the depravity of the situation is still not enough to get you off and you let out a muffled yell of frustration. 

‘Doesn’t feel the same, does it?’ his voice echoes in the hallway, startling you out of your mind. Your heart races faster, this time for a different reason. But watching him stroll in, hands in his pockets and collar unbuttoned makes your knees feel like jelly. 

‘It doesn’t,’ you pant slightly, ‘come here. Please.’

His grin turns devilish at the invitation. He’s so close, his body trapping yours against the wall, his hand half around your jaw, half around your neck. 

‘Aww,’ he whispers while looking you up and down, ‘look what a mess you are for me.’

‘Can you just—’ the words abruptly turn into a deep moan when he plunges a finger in. There’s no warning, no coddling. And once again, his cold ring sits against your clit making you shiver. 

‘Look at you acting like a slut,’ he groans as he moves his fingers in and out, ‘out in the open where anyone can walk in.’

His thumb rubs your clit, the callouses producing the perfect amount of friction, as his fingers increase their pace. Within minutes he has you whimpering and moaning his name, desperate for release. Your legs are trembling from the effort of holding you up and he has to firmly grab your waist so you wouldn’t slide on the wall. 

‘Such a pretty girl,’ he murmurs, ‘you’d cum for me, wouldn’t you?’ 

He’s ready to cum in his pants just by looking at your face, at your fucked out, half-lidded eyes and blown-out pupils. His fingers curl inside you, earning him a loud moan and then feels your walls clench around his fingers as you let go for him. Hard. 

It takes another couple of minutes till you’ve come down from your high, till his fingers finally stop moving and he pulls them out. They glisten in the artificial lights of the hallway, covered in your fluids and your knees go weak again when he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean. One at a time, slowly and deliberately, while maintaining eye contact

‘That was your first,’ he murmurs once he’s done. His mouth is close to your cleavage, his nose ghosting over your collarbone. ‘But I’m far from being done with you.’

[abiiors]

A small little blurb of Matty taking care of sick reader on a cold rainy day. (Im totally not sick and I’m totally not projecting)

because ik sicktember ‘23 is happening, i just thought i would use their prompt for today "sick in an inconvenient place"

hope you feel better soon, babe. sending you hugs <33

walking into work today was a bad idea. fuck, getting out of bed in the first place was an even worse idea. perhaps the worst one ever or so you’re convinced now that you sit at your desk shivering and sweating simultaneously. 

for some reason, cool air blasts out of the ac. the temperature is set so low that the whole area feels like a walk-in freezer. and then there’s the torrential rain outside on top of everything. 

you know, despite having an umbrella you will be drenched by the time you make it to the bus stop. and just the thought of being cold and damp while you feel like you're on the verge of death, makes you want to burst into tears. 

another sniffle from you. another glare from the new guy sitting across from you and you decide enough is enough. 

matty :( is the only thing you need to text him before he’s calling you within thirty seconds. 

in the background, you hear the same pitter-patter of rain, muffled and drowned out by other sounds and the riff of a guitar here or there. but it’s very much present. very persistent. 

“what’s wrong, darling?” he asks as soon as you pick up. 

when you pathetically sniffle some more, you hear him move. a door opens, then closes and the sounds behind him vanish. 

“hello?” he asks again, “you there?”

“i feel like shit,” you croak out. maybe you even speak for the first time that day because you surely don’t remember your voice sounding this dull and hoarse. 

“no shit,” he sighs. “you don’t sound all that well…”

“i don’t feel all that well…” you rub your face tiredly, massaging your achy temples. it’s only 3 in the afternoon. you still have 3 more hours of work to go. 

“can you pick me up? please i can’t, i feel so shocking, i–”

“sweetheart,” he interrupts. “go tell your manager you’re leaving. i’ll be there in fifteen.”

—

and he is there in fifteen as promised. his car is parked as close to the curb as possible and matty stands next to the open door holding out an umbrella, and holding out his other hand for your bag. 

the sight fills your entire body with relief, even as you watch him get half-drenched trying to hold the umbrella above your head, shielding you from any stray droplets. once you’re safely in the car, he closes the door, running to the other side to get in and tossing both your bag and the wet umbrella onto the backseat before he fully focuses his attention on you. 

matty tuts in sympathy. “oh you do look awful…”

you roll your eyes, annoyed and weirdly emotional but as soon as his cool hand touches your forehead, half of it melts away. 

“you’re really warm,” he frowns, bringing the same cool hand to your cheek and checking again. “lets get you home, okay? you’re practically falling asleep here.”

“i’m just really cold,” you complain in a small voice, wiping at your nose with the sleeve of your sweater like a small child. it makes him smile. 

“i’ll turn the ac off,” he says and leans over to press a kiss on your head. 

the car is mercifully warm after that and even though the chills are still there, at lease there’s no cold air blasting in your face. you know he must be uncomfortably warm under the flannel he’s wearing but the drive only lasts another ten minutes before you’re rounding onto the familiar street and stopping in the driveway of your home. 

matty turns around to get the umbrella again, stopping halfway to press another kiss, this time on your cheek, and hurries out the door to come to your side. you coax your achy body to move, to get prepared to make a dash inside. but the most you manage is a wobble up to the front door followed by wheezing and groaning. 

matty’s face falls in sympathy. “aww, c’mere baby,” he coos, letting you burrow your face into his chest while he unlocks the front door. he tries his hardest to walk like that, to let you stay close to him and steal some of his body heat while he gets your stuff inside. 

“can you tell me what hurts?” 

“everything,” you whine, “my head, my body. my throat hurts a bit too.” 

setting the things aside, matty cradles your face, bringing you both to the sofa to sit you down. 

“no more moving for you okay?” he speaks into your hair, seeing as how your face is once again tucked into his chest. “gonna take care of you.” 

you nod, closing your eyes and breathing in his comforting scent. 

“now how about you lay down. i’ll get you some stuff and we can just relax and cuddle for a bit. does that sound good?”

and you only need to nod once again to convey that it sounds absolutely fantastic. 

[abiiors]

cozy making dinner wt home/movie night blurb !!

oooohhh i love writing domestic fluff!!

the whole kitchen smells absolutely mouth-watering. what’s even more mouth-watering, however, is matty at the hob, flipping the chicken on the cast iron griddle. one side of it is deliciously golden-brown and crispy, and under his breath, matty hums some tune. 

so you sit there at the dining table and watch him in his element—quick deft movements as if he’s had a chef’s training. but this is not supposed to be anything special, just him cooking for you after what’s been a really hard week at work. 

fifteen minutes ago, he announced that all you need to do today is sit still and look pretty. he’ll handle the rest. 

“you always look pretty anyway,” he grins, “just need to sit at the table and talk to me love. let me take care of you.”

and so here you are, sipping on a can of coke and talking to him about some trivial work drama. 

“she won’t even acknowledge that it’s her fault!” you whine and matty hums in response, “and then me and my team have to clean up her messes, can you believe it? if this were my business, i would have fired her ages ago.”

“so stop cleaning up her messes,” his tone is nonchalant, and matty rests the spatula to one side. 

“babe,” he crosses the distance between you, standing right in front of you now and placing a little kiss on your head. “i’m serious. stop cleaning up after others. i don’t like seeing you so burnt out and exhausted.”

you take another, knowing what he’s saying is right. this is not your cross to bear. “yeah, i know, i know…” 

there’s a pause where the only sound is the chicken sizzling on the griddle. but then you sigh, softly nuzzling your head in his chest. “you’re right. you always are—”

“i’ll remind you of this the next time you argue with me,” he teases and you shush him with a playful glare.

“but! i’m not going to waste my breath on that. not when you’re being so sweet to me.”

his squawk of outrage makes you giggle. "i'm always sweet to you!"

at that point, it’s almost irresistible to control your impulsive thoughts. so just as matty turns to go back to the chicken, you slap his ass, laughing at the dirty little look he throws your way. 

“look at you, a proper house-husband!”

matty rolls his eyes, thoroughly unimpressed but at the last moment you see him crack a little smile and shake his head.

“go pick out a movie for us to watch,” he instructs and then winces, “but please baby… please! do not make me watch a hallmark christmas movie again.”

“i thought this was about making me feel better?”

he groans, defeated by that logic, and you stifle a giggle knowing you were on your way to do exactly that.  

ten minutes later, as you settle on the sofa under heaps of blankets and covered in the glow of the telly, matty appears with two plates loaded with pasta and garlic bread. his hair’s all over the place, messy curls everywhere, and his collarbone is visible from the way the sleeve of his jumper falls off his shoulder. but what melts your heart the most is his soft smile and even softer eyes. 

he sets the plates down on the coffee table and makes his way next to you under the blankets. his arm wraps around your waist and matty leans in to give you a quick kiss before handing you your plate. 

the pasta smells absolutely delicious and looks gorgeously creamy so it’s no surprise when you moan at the cheesy first bite, barely even paying attention to his laugh.

“that good?” he asks. 

“the best! when did you get so good at this, huh?

“oi!” he pokes your side, doing it again when you try to squirm away from him, “i’ve always been this good.”

he knows not to wait for a response because you’re already busy inhaling the food. instead, matty faces the telly again, groaning fondly at the hallmark christmas movie that’s waiting for him. 

[abiiors]

I’ve got a matty request if that’s okay? Just seen the video of matty singing about you with Carly at Finsbury Park and my heart is so full!! Could I request a fic where y/n comes to sing it on stage with matty and he’s all soft and cuddly and so in awe of her in front of everyone? No worries not, just love your writing and wanted to ask!!

something very small and mediocre at best but i'm trying haha. thanks to @toomuchracket for the name idea (you'll see which one 🤭)

god can you imagineeeee??? i had to look up the setlist of the show once again but i think it happens after they’ve performed the sound. you’ve been wired and you’re ready, waiting backstage, pacing nervously. five more minutes till you’re supposed to go on. a stage tech has already told you that and given you a little reassuring smile but it barely helps. there are fifty thousand people. fifty thousand. how are you even supposed to comprehend that number? let alone go out and perform in front of them all? so you just watch him on stage in his element. he’s dancing and singing and just being a star really. matty with a side of truman. your heart thumps in tandem with the beats of the sound, right in your fucking throat. 

the song ends, cheers go up, matty does something cutesy before his voice crackles in your ear. “ready?” 

you nod to yourself, throat dry, before realising he can’t see you. “yeah,” it’s barely a squeak. “yep.” 

there’s a very brief pause before he goes back to chatting with the crowd, being perfect as always. the people cheer along—it’s louder than anything you’ve ever heard before. matty knows you well though, because seconds later his voice is back in your ear. 

“you’re nervous,” he says. “it’s okay. so am i.” 

that makes you giggle a little. it’s matty fucking healy, this is what he does every night. yet you know he’s not lying when he says he’s nervous. the little tells are there; how he swallows roughly, and fidgets with the mic wire more than usual. on stage, jamie starts a melody on the piano. this is your cue, you realise. you’re supposed to walk on stage as soon as adam starts strumming the guitar. your body stays frozen on the side of the stage, and matty extends a hand, smiling as if it’s only you in here and no one else. 

you walk forward, only looking at matty and his outstretched hand, as adam starts strumming his guitar—a sweet acoustic tune. the cameras focus on you and matty, then zoom in a little to only show your face on the big screens—you in your flowy blue dress, complementing matty’s cream suit perfectly. a cheer goes up and stops abruptly as you look at the crowd for the first time. why did they stop all of a sudden? the reason becomes clear pretty quickly however. it’s not you, it’s the name that appears on the screen right below your face. 

your first name that everyone’s familiar with. and then healy. 

a collective gasp runs through the crowd before a cheer goes up so loud that you instinctively cover your ears despite having the noise-cancelling earplugs in. matty laughs and mouths something that vaguely looks like “the cat’s out of the bag” before he brings the mic up to his mouth and starts singing. 

“you are mine, i’ve been drowning in you.” it’s a beautiful acoustic rendition of then because she goes. really the most perfect song he could have chosen. and as soon as his arms are around you, you forget the crowd, the cameras. you forget the loud cheers and the thousands of voices singing along. all that stays is his voice and his arms and his smile. and the way he looks at you—eyes soft, almost pools of honey in the golden light that falls on him. it’s easier to sing this way when you’re just looking at him. 

it’s easier to the say “i love you” over and over again just to him. the easiest thing in the whole world. 

but matty knows how nerve wracking it is. and as your voice mix with each other, creating the perfect harmony, you sway in each other’s arms lightly, feeling each and every word of the song. you use your unoccupied hand to hold his, just something to ground you a bit more. and of course, he wastes no time bringing your hand up to his lips to press a kiss right above the ring you’ve chosen to wear so proudly today. a loud chorus of awwws goes up, making matty’s cheeks tinge pink. utterly adorable and heartwarming. 

and simply perfect. 

[abiiors]

self indulgent because i was sad last night and doing the math on time change it was about 9 hours between where i am and where matty is (lol do i have a problem?) currently being attacked before 10 am with his ripped shirt

but maybe reader had a tough day at work and was not as good with communication as they normally would be with their long distance agreements, and just tries to keep it together when matty can finally get a hold of her and ask what’s up and he’s so sweet telling her she can always complain to him about her crappy days he wants to be the one she can lean on when she needs the extra care

aww babe, i’m so sorry. i hope you’re feeling better now tho <3

just something small and fluffy!

you have not left the bed for a few hours now. 

in fact, you haven’t left the bed at all since coming back from work and throwing yourself onto it; work clothes and all. normally, the thought of being in bed with outside clothes would have made you cringe. today, however, exhaustion dictates everything. 

your phone, plugged into its charger, buzzes on the nightstand for the tenth time. you already know it’s matty, sending a reel or a funny tweet or even just a random message about something silly but the thought of extending your arm to pick up the phone is too much. everything is too much. 

and so, matty and his messages remain unseen. 

you close your eyes again, thinking of all the work piling up in your inbox at this moment. no matter how much you do, it seems unending—something new always getting thrown at you when you’re least expecting it. 

your phone buzzes again. and this time it keeps buzzing. it’s a phone call. 

groaning, you inch your body close to the nightstand like a pathetic worm and tilt the phone to look at the caller id. of course, it’s matty. and of course you can’t ignore him again. it would be cruel to make him worry about you when he’s all the way in america; on another continent, in a time zone hours behind you. 

“hi baby,” you answer with as much cheer as you can muster. it’s a facetime call and there’s no other option but to plaster a saccharine-sweet smile on your face. 

“hi my darling,” he smiles before launching into his story. “so you know how i’ve been making a set list for the next show? well, ross and i thought it’d be hilarious if—what’s wrong?”

it’s like his entire mood shifts between one word and the next, the cheeky smile fading away into a frown and you feel yourself grimace. 

“what?” you sit up, propped up against the pillows and acting like you have no idea what he’s talking about. “what do you mean, what’s wrong.”

matty’s lips press into a straight line. he’s not impressed, and he’s not happy with you either. because his eyes are trained on your soft grey blouse which is certainly not something you wear at home or to bed. 

“you’re playing dumb, love,” he scolds lightly, “what’s wrong?”

“i don’t wanna start, matty. i’ll get over it, i promise.” you feel your lip wobbling halfway through that reassurance. still, a deep, shaky breath composes you a little. “i want to hear about the set list. come on.”

but matty’s having none of it. “you can hear about it when you tell me what’s wrong.”

letting out a loud sigh you wonder if it’s worth getting into. this is going to lead to more frustration and crying and he’s not even here to hug you till every other worry disappears. no, he’s not here to dote on you and let you whine like a baby about every minor (and major) inconvenience. 

internally, you curse america and his stupid band and the stupid shows and probably everything else you can think of in the ten second span before matty speaks again. 

“talk to me, darling,” he urges gently, “you’ve not talked to me all day.”

it’s true. you have been rather shit at communicating today. sighing, you give in. 

“it’s work,” a dry laugh, “it’s always work.”

matty’s eyes soften in sympathy. he knows it’s been a bit hard lately. for him too, being on the road is never easy but he knows it’s worse for you. that being away for too long makes your separation anxiety start acting up. 

“tell me more.”

“i don’t wanna complain to you all the time, babe. it’s always the same thing. it gets too much, i get overwhelmed and come crying to you. the same cycle.”

if he were here right now, he would already be letting you cry into his chest, kissing it all better. but since he is not, you have to resort to smushing your face into his pillow and groaning in frustration. 

“okay you listen to me,” his voice is stern but his eyes remain soft and loving. “you never. ever. have to worry about complaining to me. ever. now tell me more about what’s bothering you at work.”

you swallow past the lump in your throat and sniffle lightly. “it’s just all so much, matty. the thought of logging into my emails tomorrow makes me want to cry. there are so many that i haven’t even opened yet.”

he stays quiet for a second, a pensive expression on his face before he breaks out into another smile. 

“alright, time to bring out the big guns.” he walks around his hotel room in search of something—his laptop, it becomes clear a moment later—before plopping down onto his bed. 

“tell me your login details.”

“what?” there’s confusion written all over your face. 

“i’m not doing anything stupid, love. just give me your login details.”

“not that i don’t trust you,” you reply cautiously, “but what are you doing?”

“offering you my precious personal assistant services,” he beams. “they are in high demand, mind you. now come on. login details. i’m just going to sort your emails for you.”

his words unleash the floodgates. through grateful sobs and quiet sniffles, you rattle off the email id and password—it’s his name and your anniversary date which makes him giggle and reveal that his password is almost identical. your name and birthday. 

once you’ve calmed down a bit and wiped your nose on your shirt sleeve like a child, you take a proper look at him—slightly tired, but happy and smiling. and handsome as ever. 

“thank you,” you whisper, “i mean it, babe. this helps so much.”

“anything for you,” he smiles and then narrows his eyes. “next time,” his finger is right in front of you, occupying the better part of the screen, “if you shut down on me again… i was almost worried, you know?”

“i’m sorry,” you pout, knowing it’s his weakness. he has no chance of keeping his resolve in front of the pout. he breaks; shaking his head while trying to contain his smile.

“now," you return his small smile, "tell me about this set list…”

[abiiors]

Can I just have a soft matty comforting his girl on her period I’m dying over here 😂

i hope you feel better soon!! <33 there you go.

wc: 900

you’ve been squirming in bed for quite some time now, trying to stay a bit farther away from matty so you don’t accidentally knock into him and wake him up after what was clearly a very physically draining show for him. 

you know he was asleep within five minutes of getting in bed and now as you lay here, tears prickling slightly at your eyes, you do contemplate waking him up more than once. the painkillers you took before getting in bed have been utterly useless so far—they haven’t put you to sleep and they certainly haven’t done anything to reduce the pain. 

and the joys of being in a hotel room so far away from home means you have no access to your trusty hot water bottle. so you just wiggle around a bit more and try to get into a comfortable position. a task that’s easier said than done. 

“babe…” you freeze in place as soon as matty’s sleepy voice reaches your ears. he sounds so scratchy and tired, so completely out of it that you feel guilty. not the ideal time. you don’t want to burst into tears in the middle of the night like a child. and yet he’s moves around slightly, a bit more alert. 

“can’t sleep?” he asks and you contemplate an answer. 

“just… yeah, no not really,” you try to hide a wince as another sharp cramp hits. “go to bed though, darling. i’ll fall asleep soon enough.” 

he nods, pulling you a bit closer and holding onto you tightly which would be fine under normal circumstances however his arms squeeze your stomach painfully. and this time when a cramp hits, you can’t help the whimper that escapes you. 

“babe?” he’s instantly more awake and alert, already turning you around to face you. “you alright?”

“i’m fine, matty. go to sleep.”

“no, you’re not,” he declares, holding himself up on his elbow to look at your face a bit better, which contorts in pain once again. great. 

“hey…” his voice is laced in concern, enough to make you give in immediately. there’s not need to hide it and make him worry because you know he won’t let it go. 

“ugh, period, cramps. that’s all, i promise. nothing i haven’t dealt with every month–fuck! yeah nothing i haven’t dealt with every month since i was thirteen.”

he clicks his tongue in response, “you sound like you’re about to cry.”

despite your protests, matty sighs deeply and slides the duvet off him. even in your sorry state, you can’t help but ogle at him lustily, at the way his boxers sit low on his hips. his curls are messy and his eyes soft and sleepy. he looks so fucking perfect. unfortunately, your body is incapable of doing anything else right now except slowly eat you from the inside. 

“where are your painkillers?” he asks, already rummaging through your bags but you just groan at him. 

“took some two hours ago, they were useless. and my hot water bag isn’t here, i don’t know how i forgot to bring that with me. i’m scared i’m going to bleed on these white sheets and i just can’t get… can’t get comfy at all.”

the more you speak, the more your voice gets clogged with tears because holy shit it hurts so much. it’s like someone has a fist around your uterus, squeezing it as tightly as possible. 

“aww, love, it’s alright,” matty comes up to you, helping you sit up in bed so you can be a little more comfortable. at this point, you’ve resigned yourself to the fact that tonight is just going to be hell. painkillers are out of the question, so’s a heating pad, the most you can get is some tea to soothe the nausea but that won’t do much. until matty’s eyes widen. 

“okay, hang in there, yeah? i’ll be back in a sec.”

through half open eyes, you watch him move around the room, finding a half-empty bottle of wine that makes you groan because how is alcohol going to help?! but then he takes it to the bathroom which just confuses you more. 

what follows is a splashing sound, a flush of the toilet, the tap running and eventually matty coming out with a look of triumph on his face. 

“there!” he announces proudly, “made you a hot water bottle.”

the moment it touches your stomach, all skepticism washes away, replaced by relief that slowly trickles into your body. 

“want some tea?” he asks and you nod eagerly, making some grabby hands at him so he would come closer to give you a kiss. 

“you’re an angel,” you murmur into the kiss, sighing happily when you feel him smile. 

once the warm mug of tea is in your hands, matty gets back in bed next you, wrapping his arm around you—much looser this time—and massaging your stomach a bit. you feel bad for making him get up in the middle of the night after being so tired. even now, he’s practically falling asleep while he’s trying to stay awake just to make sure you’re fine. 

“sleep, matty,” you caress his head softly, brushing away the curls. “i already feel much better, i promise.”

something in your voice must have shifted because he does believe you this time, nodding lightly. “wake me up, though, would you? if you feel unwell again.”

“i will, promise,” he hums again, body going slack within minutes as you continue scratching his head and playing with his hair, finally happy knowing sleep isn’t that far for you either. 

[abiiors]

hey! I loved your Matty sick blurb yesterday 🥺 idk if you’re still taking blurb requests but I’d love to read a Matty x reader one where the reader has hurt their foot/ankle or something and Matty gets really protective whenever they try to move and look after themself (as they do stubbornly do) rather than letting Matty do it

hello hello <33, this is the last blurb i’m doing for now so i am no longer accepting requests for new ones. i’m so sorry if i missed yours. sometimes, they just don’t inspire any ideas but it’s very possible that two weeks from now i’d come up with something for them. so idk, stay tuned? can’t make promises tho…

quite sappy, but what else did we expect from me...

“no, no, no, where are you going!” matty hurries over to you, arm instantly around your waist to help you sit back on the bed. 

he’s been like this since yesterday—the overbearing mother hen—ever since you got back from the a&e with a fresh cast on your leg; from your foot to your shin. 

“need to use the loo, baby,” you tell him patiently. he’s only worried about you, just being the concerned boyfriend. plus you are still in pain despite the painkillers so you don’t blame him entirely. yet matty has been watching you like a hawk. 

“so you need to call me!” he scolds, pulling you up again. “no pressure on your ankle, that’s what the doctors said.”

you sigh, giving in. he’s right and when he’s holding you, it hurts less. plus it’s nice being taken care of.

“get out,” you tell him gently but firmly when matty settles you on the toilet. “you’re not watching me pee, matthew, i am not a child.”

he looks like he’s about to protest, throwing his hands up like a teenager before he walks out. he stops at the door though, pointing a finger at you. “i’m standing outside, yeah? call me when you’re done.”

with narrowed eyes, you wait for him to leave. finally some peace. 

he’s been like this for 24 hours now, hovering and over-protective and frankly getting on your last nerve the more he insists on doing everything for you. so you take your time in the bathroom, breathing a sigh of relief and then immediately feeling guilty. 

he’s only worried. it’s not like he’s doing it deliberately. so you get up, grabbing the counter for support and flush the toilet, immediately cringing once you realise what’s about to happen. 

matty bursts in not even two seconds later. “i told you to call me! sweetheart, you’re going to hurt yourself again.”

the tone of his voice grates on you. irritation bubbles in your chest. 

“you could have at least knocked!” you scoff, hobbling over to the sink to wash your hands. his hands are on your waist a second later, steadying you. “what if i were still naked, huh?”

in the mirror, you see him roll his eyes. “i’ve seen you naked a million times.”

“and what if i was still on the toilet?”

“well, you weren’t.”

it takes saintly patience not to scream out in frustration, even more so when he insists on practically carrying you back to bed. six more weeks of this. and then four more weeks of physio after that. the irritation burns stronger. 

“i can walk!” you try not to push him away. “well… i can hobble.”

“absolutely not!” matty responds firmly, about to pick you up and that’s when the restraint snaps. 

“jesus christ, can you stop!” you snap at him, immediately regretting it when his face falls. one thing you know about matty is that he has the remarkable ability to look like a kicked puppy when he’s sad. and right now, it’s working too well on you, making the guilt grow. 

“no, i’m sorry sweetheart, i didn’t mean to snap at you,” you sigh immediately taking hold of his face. he’s just worried, your annoyance was entirely unwarranted. 

“it’s alright,” he tries to smile, “i know you’re in pain—”

“it’s not that,” you cut him off quickly. to your utter annoyance, a twinge of pain shoots up your leg right then, making you groan. matty is onto you immediately and you let him lift you this time, let him carry you back to bed. 

“it’s not the pain, matty…” you start explaining once he’s placed a pillow under your leg to make you more comfortable. “i just, you’ve been hovering, love. you’re crowding me a little…”

“oh.” his voice is still small, “um, sorry, i just. i thought you needed help.”

“i do,” you hurry to reassure him. “of course, i need help. i won’t be able to do so many things on my own for a few weeks at least. it’s just… i don’t need you being over-protective 24/7. that’s… i’m sorry, love, but that’s a bit annoying.”

matty listens patiently, nodding along. “you’re right,” he admits finally, “i should let you have some space. i just, i don’t like seeing you in pain.”

“i know, and i love you for helping me out so much since yesterday but i’m fine, sweetheart,” you reassure him once again, feeling a bit lighter when he smiles a little. “the painkillers are helping.”

“you’d tell me though, wouldn’t you? if you need help?”

you nod at him instantly, “i will, i promise.”

matty does smile then, a proper smile, bending down to kiss your shoulder. “do you need me to go for a bit? i can do my own thing. leave you alone if that’s what you want…”

surprisingly enough, you shake your head. “no, i… just stay. and cuddle with me. we can watch something. i do like your company, matty. i just don’t want you treating me like an invalid.”

“cuddles and netflix sounds perfect.” the bed dips as he gets in, pulling you into his chest. “won’t treat you like an invalid, i promise,” he smiles again, dipping to kiss your head. 

[abiiors]

I send this because this would be me in this situation: you go into labour in the middle of the night (early annoying have to still be at home they won’t let you in the hospital yet) and you don’t want to wake matty because who knows the next time that there will be a peaceful sleep in this house. so you go out into the living room and deal with it by yourself until it becomes a bit much and maybe you need a hand to hold or maybe matty wakes up because he can’t sleep without you beside him 🥺, either way once he’s awake and realizes what is happening he is kinda annoyed at you and your independence but also is ready to be the best dad and labour partner around.

a twinge of pain wakes you up. the closer you get to your due date, the more this has happened—braxton hicks, they’re called—so you’re not really worried about it for now. walking around a bit usually helps. you squint your eyes in the dark and look over at matty’s sleeping form. not long before a peaceful night’s sleep would turn into a foreign concept. 

you gingerly lift his arm off you and slide out of bed. it’s nowhere near as silent as you would have liked but he only stirs once and goes back to sleep. 

by the time you’re out the bedroom, a second, stronger twinge of pain hits. deep breaths, you tell yourself, three, two, one…you can get through this. so what if it’s nearly two in the morning, fifteen minutes and you should be fine enough to go back to bed and matty will be none the wiser. 

first, you walk to the kitchen and get yourself a glass of water; pacing slowly as you sip on the cool liquid. deep breaths…in and out. it’s not long till you meet your baby—it’s exciting and terrifying and everything in between but of god you are so ready to have this child out of you already! 

you finish the glass, about to put it in the sink when a third contraction hits. this one is the strongest yet and the glass slips out of your hand as you clutch your stomach. luckily it lands in the sink and not on the floor, but the clang it makes echoes loudly in the stillness of the night. 

shit shit shit! matty is hypervigilant as is. this would 100% wake him up. but more pressing is the pain in your lower belly and back. this time it lasts so much longer and breathing through it doesn’t help whatsoever. 

what if it’s real this time…

once the thought comes, it sinks into your brain and lodges itself firmly. fuck! It’s real this time! but your water isn’t broken yet, you would have known it. you’re still clutching your side, hunched over, when matty’s frantic footsteps get louder. he’s here, he’s here…

“darling!” he gasps and dashes over to you, immediately pulling all your weight onto him. the pain is slowly ebbing away, still you’re glad for the support. “what are you doing here? what was the sound? why didn’t you wake me up? wh—”

“matty!” you interrupt his train of questions, “i think the baby’s coming.”

now that you’ve said it out loud, you definitely know it’s true. your eyes meet his; wide and suddenly devoid of any sleep.

"but she isn’t due for—"

“three more days, i know!” you straighten again, slowly walking to the settee just in case. matty follows and watches like a hawk. ‘she doesn’t exactly follow our calendar, does she?”

“okay let me get the hospital bag. we’ll leave in five minutes.”

even through the pain his eagerness makes you laugh and shake your head. 

“my love, we can’t go yet,” you motion for him to sit next to you, “my water’s not broken yet. and we need to time the contractions.”

it’s when he’s finally seated with his phone in his hands and the timer on that his eyes narrow again. “you didn’t wake me up,” he accuses, “my baby’s coming and you were just going to let me sleep?”

“our baby! and in my defence, i didn’t know it was real real”

“what other kind of real is there?!” 

“well, i’ve had these other—ow!”

and just like that the exasperation disappears, replaced by worry almost instantly. “breathe with me, love” he instructs and guides you exactly how he was taught in birthing classes. 

you know the routine by now. in and out. but it’s a little difficult when your body is trying to make adjustments to push out another tiny person. 

a tiny person…

it won’t be long now till you meet her. 

“that’s it,” he encourages, hands rubbing soothing circles on your lower back which is exactly where you need it. 

slowly, the contraction fades away, replaced by a dull ache. and you smile at matty through tears. “shouldn’t be long till we meet her. shouldn’t be long at all...”

[abiiors]

my baby fever is also … atrocious. would love to see anything with matty and a baby (or a dad to be matty) if you’re comfortable with that!

Literally cannot stop thinking about a tiny baby with curly hair in a Paddington Bear onesie. Look at what you’ve done!!! 😭😭😭

(Do not take a shot every time I say onesie). I hope you like it :)

Matty x Female reader

Onesie

‘She already has a bunch of onesies, love,’ you tell him gently but he’s lost in his excitement

‘She can always have more,’ his voice trails off as he’s already making his way into the newborn clothes aisle.

‘She’s not even out yet and she’s the most spoiled girl ever,’ you laugh.

‘And she should be!’ he calls out.

This is the first time he’s left you alone all day. He’s always there with his hand on the small of your back, making sure people don’t accidentally bump into you, making sure he’s there if you are in pain or start to feel dizzy or nauseous or any other disaster that you’re sure he’s thought of.

You take advantage of this alone time as you wander over to another rack. You gently run your fingers over the clothes, make sure they are as soft as they look. You rub a hand over your belly and ask her what colour she wants. 

It’s not like she can respond to you but you love the idea that she’s contemplating the answer in there; that she will move and kick when you come across a colour she likes. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Matty debating between two onesies—a sage green one with daisies on it and a lilac one with bumblebees. Then he shrugs his shoulders and grabs them both. 

‘Look how excited Daddy is,’ you whisper to your stomach and start making your way to him. 

Just as your eyes slide off the last rack, you freeze in your tracks.

In a sea of darker colours, the white onesie stands out like a beacon. And it is the best thing you’ve ever seen. 

It’s patterned with little Paddington Bears doing various activities. There’s one that stands in front of Westminster Bridge, there’s one that’s leaning against a lamp post and there’s one that’s waving in excitement. 

You can already feel the flood of incoming tears. Just as the first soft sob comes out of you, Matty’s already there. 

‘Are you okay? Are you in pain?’ it’s the worry and concern in his voice that makes you cry harder.

‘No,’ you manage to take a deep breath, ‘it’s so stupid…but lo–look at the Paddington Bear onesie!’

‘Wha…ohhh,’ his face softens as realisation dawns on him. 

It takes him one look before he’s also fallen hopelessly in love with the tiny thing in front of him. He takes a step forward and touches it in a daze as if he’s already imagining caressing his daughter’s cheek, tickling her tummy until she can’t stop giggling. 

‘I think this one’s perfect,’ he whispers while trying not to sound all choked up. 

Almost as if in response, you feel a familiar flutter in your stomach. 

‘I think she likes it too,’ you laugh quietly while rubbing a hand on your belly. 

He turns around, looks at you with quiet joy radiating off of him. 

‘Is she kicking?’

‘Mm-hmm,’ you confirm and hold your hand out for his. 

He eagerly obliges, waits until you place it on the exact spot and then caresses the spot gently. It never gets old for him. He’s felt the baby kick countless times before. Often at night, he sings to her—sings to both of you—while rubbing your belly but he’s always eager for more. 

A few more tears escape your eyes as you think about what a good dad he’s going to be. He wastes no time in wiping them off and you focus on the callouses on his fingers, on the humdrum of the people, on this moment that feels like a core memory. 

‘Let’s get this then,’ he declares. 

‘Let’s get this,’ you confirm.

[abiiors]

OMG HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE!! 💖💖 also maybe for the bday concepts: matty buying u this rlly pretty set of lingerie and asking you to wear it under your dress when he takes u out on bday dinner, but THEN he has all these filthy thoughts in his head cuz he KNOWS whats under the pretty dress so he gets impatient and smth happens under the table or maybe when they are done with dinner and are back home🥰

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

THANK YOUUU (ik i'm replying to this a two days late but we will pretend otherwise!) smut-ish, so minors stay away

he has spent so much time visualising you in this set now that he actually, for one moment, considers ripping off your dress as you put on your perfume and some finishing touches. on the outside, you're in a beautiful silk dress with a sweetheart neckline that has the perfect plunge. it hits your mid thighs and makes your legs look a mile long; the perfect combination of classy and sexy but he knows underneath it, you're wearing a deep red revealing lingerie set that he selected so carefully over a number of days and now as you slightly bend to pick up your shoes off the floor, he catches a flash of red that is almost enough to drive him insane. and yeah, he does wonder if dragging you back to the bedroom is a good idea but your phone chimes with a text just then; your best friend telling you that she's leaving which means you need to leave too so you can both reach the restaurant at the same time. and just like that you're holding his hand and excitedly tugging him out the door and into the car. so like the gentleman that he is, he opens the door for you and tries to subtly...adjust himself.

anyway the restaurant is very beautiful, a place you've been wanting to go to for months and you finally let matty use his celebrity privileges to get you a reservation (not that he was going to listen to you otherwise). now that you're actually here, everything is so exciting and fun so you quickly settle down and start thinking about what you want to eat, completely unaware of what's going on in matty's head at that exact moment.

he has not stopped thinking about that small flash of red for the last 20 minutes. his hands hover so close to your thigh, simply waiting and wanting to feel the soft skin he has touched a thousand times now. the sweet breathy moans he would elicit at the barest touch of his fingers; hands dragging up, up, up, and legs parting to make space for him where he fits so perfectly. but first he would take his time ripping apart the pretty red thing with his teeth, with his hands, hear all your whines and pleads before giving you exactly what you want and more. he almost groans at the thought, the feel of you clenched around him is so familiar, your sweet taste on his tongue that he craves every single minute of the day.

'...matty? babe are you listening to me?' it's only when you click your fingers in front of his face that he realises that you've been trying to get his attention for a full minute now. your best friend and her date look at him with some degree of concern but they quickly go back to scanning their menus once he smiles at you sweetly. 'i asked if i should try the chicken or the fish,' you repeat and he has to actually clear his throat before he can answer. and then like a pathetic, horny teenager he wonders if he should go into the bathroom right now so he can do something about the ache between his legs. or...he could...

a soft gasp, just like he predicted in his head, as soon as he drags the hem of your dress to the apex of your thighs. your legs were already crossed but now you clench them tighter as he draws patterns with his calloused fingers. 'what are you doing?' you mumble just loud enough for him to hear while you pointedly study your menu. he doesn't answer, doesn't stop; he keeps moving his fingers inward, right towards your covered slit, so very close to the ache that's starting to form there. a swarm of butterflies erupts in your stomach as you think of how public this is, what if people can see? what if they can tell just from your faces. and although he looks all cool and nonchalant, you're sure your face is bright red. all thoughts fly out the window when his fingers tap your covered clit, just once but enough to send shockwaves through your whole body.

the server comes back, and the other couple gets busy placing their orders and asking questions while matty whispers right into your ear, 'how can i focus on food when all i want to do is bend you over right here?' a sharp intake of breath from you while he moves his hand to the nap of your neck, fingers slowly dragging over your pulse point, smirking at how fast it is just under your skin until you place a hand on his thigh and lean into him. 'i heard they have nice bathrooms...' and now it's his turn to swallow roughly as he quickly starts thinking of all the excuses he can give for you both going to the bathroom at the same time.

'you alright, love?' your friend's voice shocks you out of your thoughts and matty's hand stills in place. 'you look a bit red, are you too hot?' you almost choke at her words and quickly shake your head, no, just feel like i might combust... but you don't say the words that are on the tip of your tongue.

'actually, darling,' matty pipes up and then gives his most normal smile to the other two, 'i wanted to introduce you to the chef...she's my friend. how about we go say hi while we wait for the food?'

your friend rolls her eyes affectionately, such a celebrity, she must be thinking but you almost jump up at the opportunity and squeak out a yes. matty, ever the gentleman, has a hand on your lower back as he guides you around the table and makes sure to brush against you just enough, then whispers a quick, 'be a good girl for me and be quiet, we don't wanna get thrown out. the chef isn't actually my friend,' to which you laugh and try to leave the dining room with as much dignity as possible while you're on your way to fuck in the bathroom like horny teenagers.

[abiiors]

okay but imagine passing cigs between you and matty after a show one night and its you two outside leaning on a wall vibin and he is just admiring you and realizing he loves you and all the fluffy things in between. like a fic where its just his inner monologue and going through their whole future together idk

inspired by:

“on this night and in this light, i think im falling, falling for you” & “when the smoke is in your eyes, you look so alive”

And imagine the butterflies he gets when you ask to share a cigarette with him. 

It burns brighter with every drag you take. He’s careful not to smoke it deeply, for he wants it to last forever. He gets to be in your presence for as long as it burns, and then some if he’s lucky. 

You close your eyes and tilt your face up at the night sky each time you blow the smoke out. It’s these moments he treasures the most—moments when he can just stare and stare, moments when the glitter on your eyes sparkles like a whole galaxy, moments when his heart beats so fast, he thinks it’s going to leap out of his chest. 

So he just lingers on the cigarette dangling between your slender fingers.

When you pass it back to him, he admires the way your lipstick leaves a mark; on his cigarette, on his mind. Because he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about soft pink lips for weeks now. The way they curve into a smile at the sight of him, the way they part in ecstasy at his touch, the way they feel against his own; all these images that fill his dreams—the waking and the sleeping. 

A gentle breeze blows through your hair and washes him with the scent of your perfume. He inhales deeply, holds his breath like a stubborn child and wishes he could store the scent of you in his lungs forever. 

He’s so acutely aware of every reaction your body goes through in his presence that it’s ridiculous really. He craves the sound of your breath hitching every time he places a soft kiss on you. He craves the feeling of your fingers on his back, in his hair, tracing his jaw and landing on his lips. His fingers feel warmer the more the cigarette burns but he’s not afraid of the tiny embers. What are they compared to the molten lava that runs through his veins? 

The sky rumbles low overhead and darkens still. The impending storm looms closer. The gentle breeze turns into a strong gust. A drop of rain falls on your face and then another on his hand that rests on the railing. He knows you only have seconds before the skies open up and drench you both. The moment has come to an end after all. 

But you don’t move, you don’t run toward shelter. Instead, you open your arms wide and look up at the sky. And once again he’s left wondering if there will ever come a day when you won’t leave him breathless and speechless. 

The rain falls harder, the cigarette has long since fizzled out. But he has the whole night ahead of him. And the day after that. And the day after that. He has a whole lifetime ahead of him, a lifetime he’s determined to spend with you. 

For a man who holds such command of words, for a man who lives and breathes words, it’s the three simple ones that bring him to his knees at last.  

---------------------------------------------------

genuinely had butterflies writing this so thank you for the idea anon

[abiiors]

hiii, could i request prompts 44 n 54?? thank youuu<3

“If you walk out that door, then we’re done.” & “The stars will go out before I could ever forget you.”

Kinda woke up feeling a bit sad today so now you will have to suffer through the angst, I'm afraid. Also, she's quite short.

The Rooftop

The rooftop is cold tonight. 

The fur coat you have on is barely enough to warm you up but half of that is through no fault of the weather. 

‘This is it, you know,’  Matty calls out from his spot making you halt in your steps, ‘if you walk out that door then we’re done,’ he smiles, stating the obvious. 

Why has the night turned out this way? You search through the jumbling thoughts in your head, try to focus on one specific event through the ringing in your ears. 

You turn around to look at him one last time, perhaps the last time. His shirt is untucked, the collar open wide and askew. The tie he was wearing at the beginning of the night is now stuffed awkwardly in his pocket, bits of it hanging out. His eyes are flat, emotionless; filled with the blankness of acceptance. 

‘We have been done for a long time now,’ you point out, ‘This is just a formality.’ It’s not meant with animosity or as an accusation. It just is. A fact. 

You rake your brain for a reason, for one distinct point in time when things went sour. But you come up emptyhanded. Except there are the nights; nights full of passion spent intertwined in his arms, nights full of loneliness spent sobbing into his pillows. The highs that were so high that you couldn’t think straight for weeks. The lows that would pummel you straight into the depths of despair. 

‘A formality?’ he laughs and throws his head back for one brief second. The skin of his neck is  exposed, pale and still glistening from all the tears shed earlier. And there were many. You’ve never seen a man go through all five stages of grief so fast. So fast that they blend in together, chaotic and out of order. 

Even now, even this rhetorical question. What is it if not a form of bargaining?

Stay longer and answer pointless questions for me. Stay longer and talk to me, yell at me. Just stay. 

‘Why delay the inevitable?’ you shrug. 

‘Will you really go without giving me one last kiss?’ he jokes. It’s his usual mechanism at play, humour to cover up the sound of his heart breaking in two. Cruel laughter and sarcasm to mask the heartbreak. 

‘And then when that kiss turns into more?’ you ask, ‘and when I fall into your bed for just one more night? Because it always is just one more night, isn’t it? We are always doomed to repeat the cycle, aren’t we?’

The wind picks up, making ghoulish sounds to fill in the empty spaces of your conversation.

‘And so we just forget about us?’ 

You laugh drily. This is perhaps the first petulant statement he’s made tonight, you’ll give him that. But there it is. ‘That’s the plan, yeah,’ you shrug with as much casualness as you can muster. 

‘The stars will go out before I could ever forget you,’ he whispers in his drunk voice. Matty Healy has always been poetic, always had a way with words. But you’ve never doubted his words before. Never before.

You smile sadly at him, finally unable to control the welling tears and look up at the sky. You have spent the entire night on this rooftop and now dawn breaks over the horizon. Winks out the stars one after the other after the other as the sky turns pink. 

‘Goodbye, Matty,’ you close one hand over the door handle, clutching it tightly for support. 

But you linger. Unable to simply just go. 

‘Will you at least text me when you get home safely?’ he asks in a hoarse voice and fidgets with his lighter, about to light another cigarette. His shoes scuff against the floor creating faint lines in the dust. 

Home, You think to yourself, some cold, expensive hotel room. White and grey, full of flat, steely surfaces and perfectly made beds. Just one toothbrush in the bathroom, just one towel. 

‘I’ll text you when I get back home,’ you nod. It’s not illegal for exes to care about each other’s basic safety, is it? 

‘And will you?’ Matty lights the cigarette in his hands, ‘go home?’

So this is what it has come to. Thinly veiled questions that mean something else entirely and none of you can bring yourselves to say what’s truly in your heart. 

‘I will,’ you smile, finally open the door and step out, ‘I’ll find my way home eventually. Someday.’

-----

(Not writing part 2 for this)

[abiiors]

Fluff request: maybe you and Matty have recently bought a house in the countryside and now you’ve decided to put together a little vegetable garden or something? Very cute and wholesome?

oh my god SO CUTE!

i think as soon as the weather starts getting warmer, you have been consumed by the spring brainrot and you let matty know that you simply must frolic in cute flower fields in flowy summery dresses; it's not a want, it's a need. and he obliges because he knows that this cycle of touring has been a bit difficult on both of you and spending quiet quality time with each (most of which will inevitably involve a lot of lazy sex) would be just the thing you both need. so yeah, the plans are made, the bags are packed, you make him promise to be off the grid for the duration of it (a little more than a month). he's going to be making music of course, there's no stopping that, but he gives you his word that there will be no long zoom calls, no interviews, nothing "official" and thus it all begins.

the house, a cottage really, that you bought almost a year ago is the stuff of pinterest dreams (that was its appeal really) and it's just the complete opposite of his concrete city house (another huge added bonus but you'll never tell him that). anyway, you couldn't be happier to finally spend an extended period of time here just in each other's company. and as soon as you see the sprawling back garden you simply have to drag him outside and proudly announce that you're going to start a vegetable garden. "are you fully going in with the cottagecore housewife fantasies?" he teases and snorts when you poke him in his side but he's more than happy to indulge.

so there you are, wearing some cute overalls (of course), hair in two adorable braids (also of course) and he's enjoying this transformation thoroughly; teasing you all throughout like "are you going to start talking in a midwestern accent now?" and "do we join the local parish?" while you threaten to hit him with various gardening tools lol. but he is quite willing to get down and dirty with you (yeah, in all the ways 👀). anyway, so you look up all the ways to prep the soil and what seeds to buy that will actually grow properly during your stay, what kind of care and sunlight it needs. all very serious business. matty tries to throw in useless suggestions like "should we grow mangoes" or "should we actually quit the city life and become farmers" 🙄 to which you're like "my darling pretty boy, you were not made for field work" and he goes on a silly tirade of how he has "calloused hands" from "years of labour" until you grab his cute lil face and kiss him to shut him up. he pouts at your lack of faith in him but it doesn't last long because he gets kisses each time he complains.

ultimately, after much discussion and research and debate, the seeds are planted and watered and now all you have to do is give them some love and care and watch them bloom <3