#God Mr Healy...

[stayininmylane]

Healy has two lines of dialogue and I'm absolutely obsessed with him. It's embarrassing.

At least Morgan had an entire conversation >____< I mean bro...

...Ok that's not fair actually, Healy has his own connections to the main plot and is the near sole focus of one of Carl's most heart-wrenching episodes in the whole series, while Morgan was adopted and has 5 different colors on her outfit.

...still, I love them both as much as Carl himself, which I find very funny considering Healy will appear in 5 episodes max and we will never see Morgan again.

[toomuchracket]

you would cook, i'd do the nappies (birthday party!matty x reader smut)

honeymoon. babymaking. need i say more? enjoy <3

“shit, shit, matty, i'm close, m'so fucking close - oh, fuck!”

your husband groans happily into your core, hands latched onto the sides of your shaking thighs, dragging you back and forth over his face to catch the last of your orgasm. you release your grip on his hair, softly carding your fingers through it as the aftershocks subside, and release your thighs’ grip around his head; matty quietly says “nooooooo” when you climb off him and lie back down, and laughs when you roll your eyes.

for a couple of minutes, the two of you do nothing but peacefully lie side by side and catch your breath, listening to the ocean and the call of seabirds outside. once he's regained his, matty rolls over and rests his head on your bare chest, kissing the soft skin between your tits before he speaks. “morning, wifey.”

“hi, my love,” you pout your lips, and matty meets them with his own immediately. the tang of your own arousal on his lips makes you beam. “thank you for the lovely start to the day.”

“i should be thanking you, darling,” matty kisses you again. “letting me pull you onto my face when you were still half-asleep and all.”

you smile bashfully. “like it when you wake me up like that, baby. you know,” you can feel your cheeks burning. “you could wake me up by, like, actually fucking me, too, if you want.”

matty tilts his head to look at you properly. “really?”

you nod. “i think starting my day full of you would be the ideal way to do so.”

“christ,” matty buries his face into your chest - when he reappears, his pretty face is stretched into a shit-eating grin. “yeah, you're just desperate to be full of me, aren't you? i remember what you said last night, sweetheart.”

“oh my god,” you cover your face in your hands.

“ah! don't you hide from me, mrs healy,” matty pulls your hands from your face and takes them in his own, smiling; his love for you is evident in those beautiful eyes of his, and his excitement to finally be married to you is even more evident in the way he says your shared name. “it was hot as fuck, you telling me you want me to get you pregnant. i want it too, darling - starting a family with you has been a dream of mine for a long time, you know.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” matty kisses your nose. “a kid that's half you and half me, the best writer and the best frontman in the world? they'd be messianic levels of cool. and good-looking.”

you cackle, stroking his cheek with the side of your finger. “you're an idiot, you know that, yeah?”

“but i'm your idiot.”

“too fucking right, baby,” you beckon matty up to you with your index finger, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and connecting your lips to his. he kisses you back eagerly, whining into your mouth when you bite his lower lip and soothe it with your tongue - his hips begin to grind down into yours as the kiss deepens, want for you clear as the september morning itself. smiling against matty's lips, you reach for his left hand and the cool metal band on his ring finger. “you're mine, and i'm yours. forever.”

“fucking love the thought of that,” matty moans into your open mouth. “fucking love you.”

“i love you,” you whisper, moving your hips up to meet his. “and i want you. please?”

“shit,” comes the gasping reply - much to your irritation, though, matty’s hips slow to a stop. “i wish we could, baby. but we've got a brunch booking to get to.”

you whine. “but you've already eaten!”

matty laughs. “but you haven't! and you need to, darling - can't have my wife not being properly nourished, can i?”

“ugh, fine,” you frown; it drops from your face, though, as you look at your husband's rock-hard dick and an idea pops into your head. “can i have a starter now, though? promise i'll be quick.”

he smirks in response, shifting to lie back against the pillows with his hands behind his head. “by all means, sweet girl.”

***

humming happily, you lean your head back to rest on matty's chest, turning it to look up at him lovingly. “god, you really do have very talented hands.”

“well, i try,” matty pecks your lips, moving said hands from between your thighs so he can wrap his arms around your waist. the warm water of the bath sloshes further over your body as he does. “can't keep them off you, to be honest, sweetheart.”

“good. i don't want you to,” you sit up slightly, moving onto your knees to face your husband, beaming when he moans softly at the sight of your bubble-covered chest. his hands find your hips and pull you close to him - you both laugh at the way your knees slide on the slippery bottom of the bathtub, laughs that fade into a contented silence as you look into each other’s eyes. you rest your arms on his shoulders. “i love you.”

“i love you, my perfect girl,” matty presses his lips to your forehead, then to your own. “shall we get ready for bed now?”

“you're tired?” you giggle, tracing little patterns into your husband's shoulders. “s'pose it has been a long day.”

“no, i just want to take you to bed.”

“then take me,” you smile. matty opens his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it. “yes, that was a deliberate double entendre. who do you think i am?”

matty drops his head and nuzzles it into the crook of your neck; he drags his tongue up it, kissing over your jaw and cheek so he can whisper in your ear. “you’re my wife.”

the combination of matty's words and sultry tone send shivers careening across your body. has anything ever been so erotic? you doubt it.

“fuck,” you whine, hands clutching at the nape of matty's neck and at his side. “yeah, let's go to bed, baby.”

“whatever you want, wifey,” matty kisses you sweetly a final time, releasing his hold on your hips. “stand up for me, please, darling.”

you oblige, using him as leverage to move off your knees and blushing when he looks up at you and says “yeah, i like this view” - matty only laughs and pulls himself up to stand, leaning in to kiss you quickly before stepping out of the tub. he holds his hands out, and you gratefully take them as you step out too. the next little while is spent drying off, which really equates to you and your husband pressed up against each other while wrapped in a single plush towel, tenderly rubbing the other's skin and languidly making out. you've been desperate for matty to fuck you since he woke you up this morning, and these acts of intimacy - of pure love, actually - have you aching for him.

still, though, you prolong going to bed with him; once the two of you are suitably dry, you detach yourself from matty. “you go ahead through, baby, i need a second.”

matty's eyes fill with concern. “you alright, darling?”

“yeah, i'm fine,” you nod, smiling. “can feel a spot developing on my chin - just need to look and see if i packed spot gel or not, so i can put it on before i get… preoccupied.”

he giggles. “the realism of domesticity and married life. amazing. i'll meet you out there, sweetheart.”

“see you in a second, lover.”

a final wink, and matty leaves you alone in the bathroom, closing the door behind him. as soon as it clicks, you crouch and reach to the very back of the cupboard where you've stashed your skincare and makeup bags, not stopping until your fingertips make contact with a smooth cardboard box. carefully, you lift it over the bags, catching your spot gel with your middle finger and lifting it out too - you might have fibbed to matty about the main reason you stayed back in the bathroom, but you weren't kidding about the spot on your chin - and laying everything in your hands on the countertop.

after quickly applying the spot treatment and washing your hands, you lift the lid off the box and pull back the layers of tissue paper inside, revealing the most delicate piece of lingerie you think you've ever seen. it's new and custom-made for you, ivory-coloured and beautiful; the thong and babydoll dress are mostly silk, with ribbons for shoulder straps and a soft chiffon skirt-thing that does absolutely nothing to protect your modesty. you love it dearly, and you have a sneaking suspicion that matty will too. 

he's also going to some effort for tonight, it seems - while you slip into the lingerie, you hear him connect his phone to the sound system in your villa and shuffle through his intimacy playlist, and it makes you smile. when he finally settles on otis redding's these arms of mine (a favourite for slow dancing in the kitchen at home, and also for subsequently having sex on the table), you take a deep breath, pull the claw clip from your hair, and step into the bedroom.

matty doesn't look at you right away, sat at the end of the bed tapping at his phone (likely queuing more songs of this ilk to soundtrack the romantic evening you have ahead of you). but you don't mind, not in the slightest; it just means you get to look at him undisturbed, freshly-tanned skin almost glowing in the dim light of the bedroom and curls made wilder by the steam from the bath. his wedding ring catches the light as he reaches to put his phone on the bedside table, and the sight of it sends a flush of lust right through you.

he's so beautiful. and he's yours.

“hi, darling,” matty starts as he sets the phone down, still not looking at you. “d'you find the- fuck me.”

you giggle as your husband looks at you and your outfit for the first time - half because of his swift change in conversation, half because the way he's looking at you is so overwhelming. 

those eyes of his are filled with nothing short of wonder. it's like you've entranced him, actually. matty makes no attempt to move, or speak, or even blink until you've wandered over to stand in front of him; only when you softly cup his jaw does he move - to smile - and speak. “i am, without a doubt, the luckiest fucker on the planet. look at you, sweetheart.”

“you like my outfit, then?”

“like?!” matty scoffs. he brings his hands to your hips, sighing happily when you card your fingers through his hair. “it's beautiful. and it's so sexy. you look like fuckin, i don't know, aphrodite or something.”

you chuckle, leaning down to kiss his head. “thanks, baby,” you straighten up, and matty's gaze doesn't leave your chest for a second as you do. “oi, healy, my eyes are up here.”

he goes bright red - god, you love that you still have the ability to fluster him - and grins. “sorry, healy - fuck, i love saying that to you - but they were right there! what else was i meant to do? you know i'm obsessed with them.”

“well, do you want to see them now?” you say, hands moving to the ribbons on your shoulders.

matty laughs. “you're eager tonight, wanting to take your pretty outfit off as soon as you put it on.”

“mmm,” you kiss him, pulling back just as his tongue starts to swipe at your lower lip. “just been thinking about having sex with you all day. m'needy.”

“believe me, i know - two orgasms already today, and you want more?” matty tuts, but he can't keep the smile from his face. “don't worry, gorgeous, you'll get them. gonna give you everything you want, my love.”

“everything?”

you don't specify exactly what you mean, but matty nods slowly in understanding anyway, a small smile on his pretty face. without breaking eye contact, he lifts the skirt of your dress up and kisses your bare stomach. “gonna put a baby in there tonight, sweetheart.”

fuck.

“promise?” you say, shakily, breathily, legs on the verge of giving way from the plentiful desire striking between them.

“promise,” matty nods, still pressing gentle kisses to your belly. his hands move to the backs of your knees, tugging you forward to straddle him. “but i think we should do it again tomorrow, just to make sure. and the day after that, and so on, etc etc. you'll be flying home pregnant, i'll make sure of that, sweetheart.”

“hope that won't be too much of an effort for you,” you tease, giggling when he blows a raspberry into your neck - it turns to a full-on cackle when matty leans back and rolls you both over, caging your body into the mattress and continuing to blow raspberries into the bits of your exposed skin that he knows are ticklish.

“nah, it's a treat when you've got a wife as beautiful as i have,” your husband pulls himself up slightly to look in your eyes. there's nothing but love in his gaze, and you know yours is the same. “can i tell you a secret?”

“ooh, yeah.”

matty kisses you deeply, a proper head-spinner of a kiss, before murmuring against your lips. “i love making you cum.”

“that has got to be the worst-kept secret of all time.”

“well, let me tell you another one, then.”

“alright.”

another kiss, less gentle than the last; matty takes your lip between his teeth, dragging it to release as slowly as honey dripping from a spoon. “i really want to make you cum now.”

“again, obvious,” you pant out, body tingling with want. “can feel how hard you are, baby.”

matty laughs breathily, rolling his hips into yours almost as slowly as he released your lip. “and i can feel how wet you are. maybe we should take that pretty underwear off before you ruin it, yeah?”

“and then you'll ruin me?”

“of course, darling,” matty giggles, kissing your nose. “will you shuffle back and get comfy on those pillows, please?”

you nod. “d'you want me to take off my dress first, or…?”

your husband thinks for a second. “may i?”

“of course,” you smile. “just pull the end of the bows on my shoulders, and…”

“obsessed with that. you're like a little gift i get to unwrap,” matty beams. “well, you're already a gift. but you know what i mean. anyway,” he giggles excitedly as he undoes the straps of your lingerie, then moans softly when it falls down enough to reveal your chest. “fuck, you're so hot.”

“back at you, gorgeous,” you wink. “now - please get me naked and get inside me, baby.”

“as you wish, my love. what is it they say, again?” matty’s brow furrows in thought as he carefully pulls your dress and thong down - tapping your hip so you can raise it and he can slide them off - and lays them at the bottom of the bed. “happy wife, happy life?”

“yeah, think so.”

“well, mrs healy,” matty grins, leaning down to make out with you again and wrap your legs around him. “i'm about to make us both really bloody happy.”

you moan when he slides the head of his dick through your folds, gathering the abundant wetness. “sounds good- oh.”

“christ,” matty hisses as he slowly pushes into you, your body rearranging to welcome him home. he smiles down at you once he's bottomed out. “feel fucking perfect, as always.”

“shhhhh,” you giggle, hiding your face in his neck. “you know i can't take compliments. but,” you smirk. “i can take you.”

matty laughs, throwing his head back before kissing yours. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

“well, in that case,” your husband pulls his hips back, almost fully leaving you, before thrusting quickly back in. you sigh happily at the feeling, and matty smiles. “feel good, my love?”

“perfect,” you breathe out, dopamine clouding your brain more and more with each precise thrust of matty's hips. a particularly pointed one has you keening. “oh, do that again, please.”

“this?” matty repeats the movement, over and over, groaning when you cry out and clench around him. “fuck, sweetheart, m'gonna cum if you keep doing that.”

“good.”

he smiles. “no, not yet, it isn't. wanna get my sweet girl off again first before i fill her up.”

there's another gush to your core. matty notices, of course, and laughs slightly deliriously. still fucking you borderline-animalistic, he leans down to take one of your nipples in his mouth, dragging his tongue up your chest and neck so he can talk directly in your ear. “you like me talking about that, darling? how i'm gonna pump you full of me, get you all sticky and dripping, with a baby in your belly? my baby? our baby?”

every muscle in your body is taut with pleasure; your throat is so constricted that you can barely speak, but you manage a whimper. “please. want…”

your brain is too cloudy to finish the rest of the sentence. somewhere in its recesses, you worry that matty will give in to his slight sadistic streak and make you finish it, but luckily, today, he understands. of course, that might be because he's just as fucked out as you are - he certainly looks it, eyes black and heavy, jaw slack, a sheen of sweat glistening on his pretty face. he's gorgeous, though, and he smiles shyly when you tell him as much. “i love you, my girl. gonna make you cum soon, yeah?”

you nod enthusiastically, softly reaching up to caress his face with your left hand. matty turns his head slightly, still fucking you, and kisses your rings, those pretty signifiers of the two of you belonging together and to each other; you smile as he does. “love you.”

“you're so fucking cute,” matty kisses you passionately. his leaning forward lets him thrust deeper inside you, and he moans into your mouth when you suddenly jolt and clench like a vice around him. “that the spot?”

“yeah.”

“in that case, then…” matty leans even further forward, quickly detaching your legs from his waist and resting his elbows beside your head. incongruous with the feral way he's driving his hips into your own and hitting that spot inside you, your husband tenderly brushes your hair from your face and smiles. “feeling good, darling?”

“so good,” you lift your head to kiss him, teeth sinking into his bottom lip in reaction to a particular thrust sending shockwaves through your nervous system. “m'getting close, baby.”

“good girl.”

shit. your eyes roll back in ecstasy at the phrase, and you cling to matty in a wordless plea for him not to stop. wordless, because your jaw is shaking too uncontrollably from the electric pleasure in every nerve ending on your body for you to talk. he knows, though.

and he knows exactly how to blow the fuse. “taking me so fucking well, sweetheart. will you cum for me?” matty coos, fucking you impossibly faster and deeper, dragging whines from your lips. “need to feel you, darling, need you to cum on my dick like a good girl and make me cum, make me fill you up with our baby. you'll do that for me, won't you? cum for me, so i can get you pregnant?”

you will. and you do, so quickly after the words leave his mouth that it would be embarrassing if you weren't so in love; your entire body tenses, so hard your muscles will surely ache tomorrow, and then releases. your limbs quiver, flailing wildly against the mattress, and your chest heaves as you cry out your husband's name. he cries out yours in reply, before crashing his lips onto yours, still erratically fucking into you even as you feel him spurt hot cum deep in your cunt.

matty all but falls on top of you once he's finished, your sweaty, satisfied bodies breathing heavily in rhythm. neither of you make any attempts to move for a while, aside from you gently stroking the back of his head and him pressing soft kisses to your collarbone - neither of you dare, lest you let any cum spill out of you instead of doing what it's designed for. you like being like this with matty, anyway, as physically and emotionally connected to him as possible, and you know he loves it too.

he's the first to move, though, lifting his head to kiss you softly before sitting back up onto his knees as best he can without slipping out of you. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” you smile sleepily, stretching your arms with a yawn. “loved that. i think babymaking is my new favourite kind of sex.”

your husband laughs. “same, definitely,” he smiles, manoeuvring your legs so they're at a 90° angle to the rest of your body. “can i stretch your legs back a little bit, sweetheart? think it'll be the best way to pull out but still keep my cum in you.”

you nod, pulling your legs back enough so your backside lifts off the bed, while matty sucks air in through his teeth and pulls out. he grins. “that actually worked! god, i am so smart. right, let me just run and clean myself up

“ok, baby,” you smile as he speeds to the ensuite, sliding your hands under your backside to keep it up. giggling, you push it up and rest on your elbows in a sort-of shoulder stand. “feel like this is also quite smart, actually.”

matty peers around the doorframe and cackles. “you are literally doing gymnastics to keep my cum inside you, you weirdo.”

“your weirdo,” you tease, as matty comes over and carefully wipes the wetness from your entrance. he flops on the bed beside you, kissing your cheek. “but what can i say? i just really want to have your baby.”

matty rolls onto his side, stroking your cheek. “i want that too, darling,” he murmurs softly. “i really hope it happens soon.”

“i think it will,” you kiss him sweetly, then smirk. “if it's a boy, are we still naming him after you?”

“oh, fuck off.”

[wreckedandpolemic]

Reread regret me this weekend and now thinking about them having soft, loving sex which blows their minds because they've never actually done that before

ohhh wonderful… i was thinking about the wedding night, matty not even getting your dress off before he’s on his knees for you; it’s short and simple enough that you can pull it up around your waist, let matty drag your panties down with his teeth, kissing and licking and worshipping you, moaning helplessly into your cunt.

he drags you to your peak, a hand fisted in his hair, and right as you tip over the edge… stop. matty looks up at you, lips and chin soaked. i wanna cum with you, you murmur. i’ll hold on, i wanna cum with my husband, you moan.

fuck, matty gasps, spinning you around so fast you’re breathless and fighting hard against the buttons of your dress. he kisses down your neck. my wife. god, you’re my fucking wife, he sighs, finally pulling you free of the dress. you’re on your back on the bed faster than you can think, matty kissing between your boobs and shoving down his boxers. s’this how you want it, baby? when i fuck my wife for the first time, i need it to be perfect, he groans.

yeah, please, give it to me. c’mon, healy, you know how i like it. you writhe as he brushes the tip of his cock over your hole. alright, mrs. healy, whatever you want, matty groans, choking on a moan when he slides into you. i never— fuck— never said i was changing my name, you tease, but all the levity melts away when his hips meet yours, matty’s gaze burning on you. i love you, he breathes. i love you so fucking much, i’m never letting go of you again.

your entire body is electrified, even with matty holding still inside you. i love you more than anything, you smile, stretching up to kiss him. ‘til death do us part, right? matty laughs, fucking deep into you. you think dying could keep me away from you?

[graciegoeskrazy]

and too much racket

matty healy + teen!daughter!r (ft. george)

warnings: r does drugs!!!, nothing in graphic detail, mentions of mattys addiction, yelling, crying, shit ending but cute?

a/n: mention of a specific drug that starts with a k that i can’t fully say so inside the street name cuz i don’t want tumblr banning me even do its weird cuz they block my angstyfluffy healy things but there’s litteral prn on thier site anywhooooooo im a lover not a fighter. thx to anon who requested! had to do research cuz ive never done drugs aeha

The house was quiet. He was anticipating another night alone in the house while you were out with friends. The silence was broken by the sound of a call. He snatched up the phone and answered it immediately. 9 times out of 10 it was just you checking in or saying hi.

“Hi, baby. Everything okay?”

“Mr. Healy?” The voice on the other end was hesitant, unsure. Most importantly, it wasn’t yours.

“Kate? Where’s y/n?” The worry in his voice intensified, his mind racing through all the possible scenarios.

“Mr. Healy, we’re getting ready to drop y/n off. Are you home?”

“Yeah. Why? Is she okay? Is she that drunk?” He laughed a little at the thought. He knew you liked to drink on occasion and sometimes even use weed and he was usually fine with it as long as you were being safe and called when you needed him. He always said he would drop anything in a heartbeat.

“No, she’s not drunk. She’s...high...on something that...isn’t weed.” Kate’s words hung heavily in the air, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

“What? What was it, Kate? You can tell me.” His voice was laced with confusion and urgency.

“I don’t know. She left the room awhile ago, said she was going to the bathroom, but when she came back she was clearly on something. Something a lot stronger.”

“Oh god.” He ran a hand through his hair, his mind spinning.

“Somebody said she had mentioned Ket, but I don't know where she would’ve gotten it? We don’t do that type of stuff—I barely drink!” Kate’s voice cracked, the fear and confusion palpable.

“I know, I know, Kate. It’s gonna be okay. Where is she now?” He forced himself to stay calm. He could tell your friend was starting to panic even more.

“She’s asleep in the car. We just left.” Her voice softened, the exhaustion and worry evident.

“Alright, bring her here. Drive carefully. We’ll figure this out.”

As the call ended he sent frantic texts to the only other people who he knew loved you almost as much as he loved you, begging them to come over. George, residing the closest, knocked on the door not even 10 minutes later, worried about the vague text Matty sent. Ross came in not long after, with Adam, Carly, Charli, and Jamie all trailing from behind. He explained everything he knew, and before they knew it a knock sounded at the door.

—————

Your heart pounded as you stepped out of the car, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. You couldn't believe Kate had brought you here, to your own house. You barely remembered getting in the car. Now - you were wide awake. "You brought me to my house?!" Your voice shook with disbelief.

Kate, her face a mask of concern, tried to reach out to you. "It’s for your own good, Y/n. We called your dad, he’s gonna help—"

Your eyes widened in horror, and she took a step back in fear. "You called my DAD?!?!"

Kate flinched at the volume, "We were just trying to help, Y/n."

"Well, just stay out of it—" You shot back, voice breaking.

The front door swung open, and Matty stood there, his face set in a grim expression. "Y/N," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Living room. Now."

You felt a surge of defiance but knew better than to argue with your father when he was in this state. "Dad—"

"Now," Matty repeated, his voice stern.

With a final, furious glance at Kate, you stormed past her and into the house.

Kate’s eyes filled with tears as she confronted your father, filled with worry and guilt. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Healy! I should have kept a closer eye on her-”

“It’s not your fault, Kate. We’ll get through this.” He managed a small, reassuring smile before turning his attention back to y/n.

Matty followed her inside, closing the door behind him with a heavy thud.

You were met with most of your aunts and uncles as soon as you walked in, mentally groaning and rolling your eyes. The room is tense. You glance around, taking in the faces of family and friends, all summoned by your father. Their presence only amplifies your frustration. You turned to your father as soon as you heard his familiar footsteps grow closer.

“You called everyone?!” you exclaim.

Matty’s expression is stern, unyielding. “We need help with this one, babe”

“Oh my god— I got high one time. I need some water and Advil, not a fucking intervention,” you retort.

“Sit down,” Matty commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Reluctantly, you drop onto the couch, your arms crossed in defiance. Matty takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “Weed and a couple of Trulys are one thing, y/n, but this?!”

You roll your eyes, a gesture that seems to cut through the tension like a knife. It’s a bold move, especially aimed at your father. Even in your age of defiance, you never once dared to act like this in front of your father. He doesn’t flinch, his gaze piercing as he presses on. “Where’d you get it?” You shift uncomfortably, weighing your options. “Tell me. Now,”

You let out a resigned sigh. “A friend—”

“What friend?” Matty interrupts, his patience wearing thin.

“She was prescribed it for her anxiety or something,” you explain, trying to maintain some composure. “Now she’s just been dealing it to people.”

The room remains charged with tension, but a different kind now, more personal, more painful. You sit, feeling the weight of your father’s disappointment. The silence hangs heavily before Matty finally speaks again.

“Those girls were scared, y/n. You should’ve heard Kate; she was terrified! I could hear it in her voice,” Your dad says, his voice strained.

“She’s fine,” you reply dismissively.

Matty’s eyes narrow. “You better pray they forgive you.”

“Oh my god— it’s not that big of a deal!”.

“You scared the shit out of ’em, love!” Matty’s voice rises, echoing through the room.

“You think everything was fine after I quit? I lost friends, y/n. I almost lost every single person in this room, and I probably would’ve if I hadn’t gotten my act together.”

“Well, good for you. You’re doing so great now,” you retort sarcastically, the bitterness evident.

Matty’s expression shifts from anger to confusion. “I just don’t understand what caused you to act out like this?”

“Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the fucking tree,” you shoot back, your voice trembling with barely contained emotion. He knew what you were referring to. They all did.

“Y/n!” George’s voice breaks the momentary silence, his tone a mix of shock and reprimand.

“Take it back,” Matty demands, his dangerous. “Take it back right now, y/n.”

“You can’t be that surprised, can you?” you challenge, meeting his gaze without a flinch..

“You heard of the things I went through!” Matty’s voice cracks, a raw edge to his words.

“Are you kidding? I fucking saw the things you went through! The things you put me through!” Your voice rises, the anger and pain you’ve held back for so long spilling out. “The nights you chose that shit over me! The weeks and months you left me with George because you were too high or too irresponsible to take care of me! Your daughter!”

The room goes silent. Matty’s face is a mix of guilt and helplessness, but it soon turns to anger. “Go upstairs,” Matty finally says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stand up, your movements brisk and fast, and head towards the stairs. Each step feels like a mountain, the weight of the confrontation pressing down on you. As you reach your room, the door closes behind you with a soft click, cutting off the world outside.

—————

The next morning, you wake up to an empty house. Your father and George must have left early for the studio, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The silence is heavy, a stark contrast to the tension of the previous night. You sit on the edge of your bed, the events replaying in your mind, and decide to call George.

After a few rings, he picks up, voice chipper. “Well, look who’s up and out of her intoxicated state!”

You roll your eyes, though a small smile tugs at your lips. “I called to ask how your day was going, not to hear about my mistakes.”

“Awe, she cares!” George’s voice is teasing, but there’s warmth in it too.

“I always do,” you reply softly, the sincerity clear in your tone.

There’s a brief pause before George speaks again, his voice a bit more serious. “Your dad misses you. Won’t stop moanin’ and groanin’ about his girl.”

“You sure he’s not talking about another girl?” you ask.

George sighs. “You both said things you regret, babe. Fix it. Whatever is happening right now, it’s not worth it.”

“I know,” you admit, the guilt gnawing at you. “Thanks, George.”

“And if you ever do that tom-fuckery again, I will have your head in an old-fashioned guillotine.”

“Noted.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then you muster the courage to say, “I never said thank you for taking care of me then. So…thank you. For everything.”

George smiles a bit. “Just doing my duties as best uncle.”

“Hm.” You smile.

After hanging up, you sit quietly for a moment, absorbing the conversation. George’s words echo in your mind.

Later that day, you hear the familiar sound of the front door opening. Matty’s voice calls out, filled with tentative. “Baby girl? I’m home.”

You rush out from where you’ve been anxiously waiting, tears already streaming down your face. As soon as you see him, you crumble into his arms, mumbling through your sobs. “I’m sorry I mess up and I’m sorry for the things I said and the things I’ve done and I’m sorry you’re stuck with me and I’m sorry that I’m not the perfect kid but I really try to be and try to be that perfect kid for you and for everyone but it all just got a little much and I was trying to make things better and be an adult I guess and I got carried away and I’m sorry Daddy I’m just so sorry.”

He smiles, trying to hide his laugh at your words and ranting. He wraps his arms around you tightly, his voice soothing. “It’s gonna be fine, baby—”

“No it’s not,” you interrupt, your voice cracking with the weight of your guilt. “I messed up, I messed up bad. I made a mistake.”

“A mistake which you will never make again, correct?”

“I promise,” you whisper, your tears soaking into his shirt.

“Good. You’re not perfect, y/n. And thank god you’re not. Do you know how horrible I would feel if I had a perfect child? God, I could never keep up with you. You are smart and funny and so charismatic, and if it weren’t for you being my child, then you might have been perfect…” The tension starts easing. “But I don’t care,” Matty continues, his voice tender. “Because you are mine, and that’s all that matters to me.”

“I love you,” you say, your voice steadying as you look up at him.

“I love you most... but I will throw you in a river if you do that shit again,” Matty replies, a teasing glint in his eyes. Now, maybe, just maybe, healing can begin.

[tillthelandslide]

Insufferable Arsehole Part 12 : (When In Rome) : I'm Just Fine 'Cause I Know That You Are Mine Insta AU (pt.1)

a/n: hiiiiii everyone, this is a little sneak peak into the next chapter of IA I guess (i'll probably post it tonight <3) hope you enjoy.

Taglist: @scooby-doodoo @thereisaplaceintheheart @theoriginalwhatsername @eaglestar31 @thefrontofmymind @fallingforel @partoftheairforce @procrastinatinglikeapro @poisonmedaddy13 @xthe1975 @all-things-fic @jstbeeingme @rossgirly @juliardk @you-muppet @moodyyyychickx (add yourself using the link in my bio 😊)

Series Masterlist

Previous Part

thisislou:

thisislou alexa play 'oh daddy' by fleetwood mac

Liked by charli_xcx, mynameismia, rass1975, trumanblack and 439,102 others

trumanblack you're insatiable

↳ thisislou you love me

↳ trumanblack i do

mynameismia ew gross...

↳ thisislou just block me at this point

charli_xcx i swear to god, this rat better count himself lucky

↳ trumanblack i do, trust me

trumanblack:

trumanblack Amore mio @thisislou

Liked by thisislou, jamieoborne, rass1975 and 672,198 others

Comments on this post have been restricted

thislou I love you so much Mr Healy

jamieoborne poor bloke had to silence his comments

↳ trumanblack too many comments saying she's too good for me... as if I dont already know

↳ thisislou ignore them my love, you're perfect for me

rass1975 come back, starting to miss you both over here

bedforddanes only one worthy of her is you mate

1975adam <3

healytymd you think you're cool for writing the caption in Italian... have to agree with the haters that say she's too good for you bro :P

↳ trumanblack 🖕🏼

thisislou:

thisislou the only one worthy of my love is you, you have redefined love itself and exceeded every fantasy i ever had of true love. You are my person, always. They don't know the Matty I know, the Matty the boys know. The Matty that loves his friends so deeply, the Matty that worries about his fans and whether they got home safely after a gig, the Matty that wishes he could call his mum more or visit her and hug her more. The Matty that hugs his brother too tight every time he sees him so he doesn't forget how it feels. The Matty that loves me, so fiercely every. dam. day. That's my Matty, the one who deserves my love @trumanblack

Liked by trumanblack, rass1975, bedforddanes and 891,284 others

Comments on this post have been limited

rass1975 our matty

bedforddanes we love you mate

healytymd love you bro

densie_welch thats my boy

1975adam couldn't have said it better

trumanblack you're the best of me, my love

trumanblack:

trumanblack my beautiful girl

Liked by thisislou, 1975adam, charli_xcx and 568,129 others

View all comments

thisislou missed opportunity for the caption: you share my shirt, looks so good

↳ trumanblack not using my own lyrics as a caption love

↳ thisislou booooo bad boyfriend

↳ trumanblack you're annoying but I love you

the1975updates GUYS SHES WEARING A RING ON HER RING FINGER OF HER LEFT HAND. THIS IS NOT A DREAL

↳ trumanblack it's flipped, I promise you we didn't get engaged or married (much to my disappointment trust me)

charli_xcx you lucky lucky man

thisislou via her stories:

caption: my love @trumanblack

thisislou:

thisislou Italy has been one of the best experiences of my life. This moment right here was a beautiful one, Matty and I saw an old couple on the beach with this really old camera (he went on about how cool it was and how it was rare... I didn't care but he rambled and it was cute). The couple came over to us and (despite the language barrier) explained how they took some photos of us and how they wanted to gift them to us... We gave the address of the place we were staying at and two days later the photos arrived. This is our favourite. I'll never be able to truly thank the couple for this moment, it was beautiful. They said our love is L'amor che move il sol e l'altre stelle: The love that moves the sun and the other stars. I loved that. To my Matty, I love you more than words can ever describe, thank you for the best holiday ❤️

Liked by trumanblack, mynameismia, rass1975 and 783,118 others

View all comments

trumanblack I love this so much

trumanblack I love you

mynameismia the best couple

bedforddanes this is cute... cant wait to see you both

[not-alien-girl-v]

Mrs All American (Matty Healy)

warning: mention of dick sucking, tw mention of his fuckass mohawk circa 2013

note: god i’m so lonely.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

he had been at the studio all day. it’s something you’re used to, him being a musician and all, it’s just a little unfortunate that because he’s always so ‘in the zone’ during his time at the studio that he never texts. it’s not impossible to get a message to him, but most of the time you have to call, which is a lot of work.

he left before you woke up this morning. you don’t live together, you have your own place but if you don’t spend most of your time at his house, you’d almost never see him.

today, once he left, you simply didn’t go home, spending your day lounging around his shared house with george, who was also away at the studio all day.

it’s around 6 in the evening now, you’re at the dining room table, headphones on blasting a catchy song by an australian pop rock band that you adore, and your back is to the door, so you don’t even notice a change in the house when the door swings open, two men entering.

you do notice, however, when a pair of arms wrap around you from behind, a warm breath onto the shell of your ear, a loving sigh, and a tight squeeze from the arms. the red bracelet, the ‘dad’ tattoo, the smell of tobacco on his breath.

popping out your earbuds, your eyes are still trained on the laptop but you touch your palm to his forearm, squeezing it. “hey, baby.”

“how’d you know it was me?”

“i can tell by the stench.”

he rolls his eyes, the sunset catching a curl against his cheek, causing the dark brown to glow golden for a moment, and he looks too beautiful.

“i’ve told you before, love, you’ve got to stop referring to any scent as a ‘stench.’ it makes it seem like i smell bad.”

you open your mouth to release a snarky remark but he predicts it. “ah! and i do not smell bad.”

you smile back at him. george enters, grabbing a soda from the fridge and cracking it open, not even paying attention to this lovers quarrel, he knows better than to by now.

“what can i say? you’re a boy. you’re stinky. and you have cooties.” he snorts and you hear george, against his best effort, conceal a giggle from across the room, leaving you feeling like a real comedian. they should start paying you for this comedy show.

“i do not have cooties, you stupid girl. you don’t even know.” he’s still hugging you from behind and the position is awkward for a full conversation so you peel him off and turn to face him in your chair.

“trust me, i know what i’m talking about. i spend all day in this house, and let me tell you, this place reeks of male energy. and cooties.”

he hums, not quite ready to let you have it. “you probably have cooties by now, then. shouldn’t have agreed to marry me if you’re so worried about disease.”

you grin and you don’t want to fake argue with him anymore, so you wordlessly turn back to the laptop. he leaves a parting kiss on your cheek, and it’s a bit wet with saliva so, like any intelligent woman would, you fake gag and wipe it off.

he gasps, loudly, stumbling back and placing a hand over his chest like he’s been shot, such a drama queen. “did you just wipe off my kiss?”

playing dumb, “i don’t know, did i?”

he lunges forward, smooching your cheek again, you wipe it off just as fast. it’s instantly become a battle that you’re committed to winning. he kisses again, you wipe it again. he kisses one more time, you wipe it off.

once more, he kisses your cheek and just as you’re about to wipe it off your face, he forcefully grabs your wrist mid-air and uses this leverage to yank you up out of the chair.

you’re chest to chest with him and for a split second you’re worried he’s genuinely lost his temper, but the thought is dissolved from your mind immediately when you remember this matty you’re talking about, and he loves you too much to ever lay a wrong hand on you.

he drops your wrist and instead gently takes your face into both of his hands, leaning in slowly to kiss you sweetly. this time, you decide it’s best to just enjoy it, you’ve been clingy and missing him all day and this is the first bit of attention you’ve received from your lover since last night.

after your normal, romantic kiss, he pulls away and with a silly smile, leans in again, catching your lips and releasing them with a big ‘mwah.’

“well, i got some candy for you my dear, but i understand, since i’m so gross and have cooties, i’ll just have to eat it all myself.” he walks away, grabbing at the plastic bag you’ve only just noticed had been dropped to the floor by your chair, and he disappears down the hall.

“wait! i’m sorry!” you holler and scamper down the hallway to catch him before he eats your candy because knowing matty, he may actually do it.

you find him sitting on his bed, trifling through the bag of sweets. “what did you get me?”

“you? oh, i didn’t get you anything. i got me a bar of chocolate and another twix bar in case i’m still hungry. twix is your favorite, isn’t it? ah, that’s too bad it’s all for me, then.”

you pout and approach him on the bed. “i’m sorry, please, you don’t have cooties, i love you. if you give me the twix, i’ll suck your dick so hard your stomach will cave in like a juice box, i promise.” you put your hands together and grovel.

“i’ll hold you to that,” he sighs and hands you the twix bar, it’s a left twix.

you giggle, giddy like a child given candy. it’s not far from the truth. he stands and stretches out, groaning and joins cracking. he pulls off his t-shirt, glancing at the hamper across the room and then to you. “think i can make this shot?” you put your candy down on his nightstand.

“no.”

“prepare to be wrong, baby.” he crumples up the fabric into a ball and makes a proper shot at the hamper, missing it by about 2 feet. the shirt lands helplessly on the floor. “shit.”

you burst out laughing, falling back into the bed in a fit of giggles. “that was embarrassing, stop laughing.”

he crawls over and lays down beside you, settling down on top of the black duvet. it’s when you both finally still that your neediness snakes it’s way back into your brain like an evil worm that tells you to kiss him all over.

you steal glances at him through your lashes, admiring his beauty, specifically his soft, dark curly hair. you scooch closer to him, pressing your body against his, propping up on an elbow and reaching out to brush your fingers over his hair.

like a puppy, his eyes flutter shut. “this is getting long.”

“it is. do you like it?”

“of course i like it. but do you want to keep it like this. wanna let me cut it?”

“if you like it, then i won’t cut it.”

“i like your hair all the time. except for when you had that fuckass mohawk, that sucked.”

he sighs, “i know, baby, i won’t do it again,” he sounds like he’s being scolded for something and you’re glad. you hated that fuckass mohawk.

“missed you today,” you keep a hand threaded into his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp with the very tips of your nails.

“missed you too. promise i’ll be home more often, hate being away for so long.”

“it’s fine. i know it’s your life. it’s one of your things.”

he opens his eyes again, looking at you with a deep sense of purpose all the sudden. with his one hand, he places it on your forearm, rubbing gentle with his thumb. “just don’t think i don’t care. don’t think i don’t miss you just as much every time i leave. it’s not hard to love you, it’s the easiest thing i’ve ever done. and the best thing, as well.”

you don’t know why, but tears begin to well up in your eyes and you want to look away from him and his intense gaze. it’s like he senses every thought in your mind, so he pulls you into his arms, chest to chest again, his nose brushing against your exposed collarbone.

he works his hands up and down your back, pushing under your shirt to graze across your bare skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind.

any sense of urgency in your clinginess is instantly lost as he holds you like you’re falling out of his arms.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

taglist: @indierockgirrl @itssimpleanditgoeslikethis @milkluvr8 @americanangel @butyou-callmewhenyourebored

[fruitcoops]

So I was just watching Matty Healy’s “celebrity school run” interview from BCC Radio One, and my mind jumped right to imagining Sirius with a couple awestruck hockey kids in the back of his truck, navigating questions as he drives them around (maybe to hockey practice instead of school??)! Congrats on finishing finals!! <3

Fic O'Ween Day 9: Sugar Rush! Cap credit to @lumosinlove and fest credit to @noots-fic-fests <3 Cutie patootie start to the weekend!

“Ask him!”

“I don’t wanna ask. You do it.”

“Everything alright back there?”

A small boy in a blue shirt dropped an elbow into the side of his, equally small yet significantly blonder, companion. “How does the internet work?” the blond boy blurted.

In the front seat, Sirius Black frowned at the road. “Quoi?”

“I told you it was a dumb question!” a redheaded little girl whispered across the seat.

“The internet,” the blond boy repeated, twisting the pocket of his cargo shorts into a nub in his fist. “How’s it work?”

“Uh…”

“My mom said the government tells you on your first adult birthday,” the dark-haired boy informed him as he leaned forward onto the console. “So you’ve gotta know, ‘cause you’re totally an adult.”

“Your mother is right, Ethan,” Sirius agreed. His eyes darted to the small camera stuck on the car’s dashboard. “That’s—yes, you’ll have to wait until you’re eighteen to find out. I can’t tell you. It would be illegal.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “But you’re Canadian, so American laws don’t apply to you.”

“It’s international.” Suburban homes rolled past outside, surrounded by fresh spring foliage. “The UN decided on that rule.”

“Aw, man.”

“Are you really getting married?” the redheaded girl piped up.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Summer.”

“But when?”

“Summer,” Sirius repeated with a laugh.

“What day?” She poked her head between the front seats as well, bumping shoulders with Ethan. “Can we come?”

“Definitely not. Both of you, sit back, you’re going to get hurt.” Sirius glanced into the rearview mirror as he turned onto another narrow street. “Look at Jacob. He’s doing it right.”

Jacob preened, shooting each of his companions a Cheshire grin. “Lydia said you’re getting married to your boyfriend. Is that true?”

“Fiance, but yes.” Sirius reached back to shoo Lydia and Ethan back into their seats, one hand on the wheel. “Why do you know so much about my wedding? Aren’t you supposed to ask me hockey questions?”

“We have time. School doesn’t start for an hour.” Lydia folded her hands in her lap and squinted to look out at the road. “Also, my sister plays hockey and she was telling me that her team was telling her that you're gonna be the first married hockey player ever.”

“That’s…that’s not true.”

“Of course it is.”

“There are so many married hockey players!” Sirius laughed.

“Oh yeah?” Jacob challenged. “Who?”

“James Potter, Pascal Dumais, Sergei Ivanov, Adam Fox, Mika Zibanejad, Brad Marchand—I think most NHL players are married, actually.”

“Is the Earth actually round, or is the government lying?” Ethan asked, picking at the back of Sirius’ seat.

Sirius pressed his lips together for a moment. “Ah,” he began, coughing through a laugh. “Nope, it’s definitely round. People have known that for a long time.”

“My uncle says the government lies a lot.”

“Well, my uncle works for the government,” Jacob scoffed.

“Well—”

“Why is the Earth round?” Lydia butted in. “I think you’re lying. If it was round, everything in Australia would be upside down.”

“Oh god,” Sirius muttered. “Okay, new rule: no flat Earth discussions in the car.”

“Cause you’re lying?”

“Cause Galileo is spinning in his grave.”

“Isn’t that the bird from the movie with the girl and the volcano and the lizard and Russell Crowe and that one lady?”

Jacob gasped and turned to her. “My mom loves Russell Crowe! Y’know, Mr. Sirius Black, you kinda look like Russell Crowe.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“He kinda does,” Ethan admitted.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Nuh—”

“Okay,” Sirius announced as he paused at a stoplight with a thousand-yard stare. “We’re not doing any ‘nuh-uh’s until you are safely at school. Do you act like this when your parents are driving?”

All three children stared at him from the backseat. For a singular second, their fidgeting paused. “Like what?” Lydia asked, clearly bewildered. “The lady with the camera told us to ask you questions.”

Sirius seemed to process that for a beat. His fingertips drummed on the steering wheel while they waited for the light to change. “I’m starting to realize I don’t spend enough time with kids to know how you’re supposed to act.”

“Isn’t your brother a million years younger than you?”

“Six years.”

Lydia gave him a skeptical look over her glasses. “I’m only eight, so that’s basically forever.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“How come clouds have different shapes?” Ethan asked. “Is it because birds fly through them and turn them all thin after they’re fluffy?”

“No, the wind does that.”

“Why?”

“It’s the wind, it doesn’t have reasons.”

“How do you know.”

“Because I’m an adult. Hey, look, a pigeon.”

All three children lunged toward the window, straining at their seatbelts and booster seats. Sirius glanced at the dashcam with a small, pleased smile and made a smooth left turn onto Main Street. “Where is it?” Jacob asked eagerly. “Was it big? What color was it? I don’t see it.”

“Oh, I think it was in the parking lot back there,” Sirius said casually. “Keep an eye out, see if there are more.”

“I’m never allowed to ask adults this many questions,” Lydia gushed, swinging her feet above the floor of the car. “Do you pay taxes?”

“Yes.”

“How do they work?”

“Good question. I have no idea.”

Ethan, apparently tired of pigeon-spotting, sat up straight and began peeling a sticker off the side of his booster. “Do you speak French?”

“Ouais.”

“Can you say something in French?”

“Ouais,” Sirius repeated with a grin.

“Please?”

“I just did.”

“Way,” Ethan mimicked. “Ha! That sounds like a duck. Wah-wah-wah-wah—”

“Yellow punch buggy.”

A flurry of movement and stifled ‘ow’s followed on swift wings; Sirius winced, but didn’t seem particularly regretful. “So,” he tried again. “What do you guys like to do at school?”

“Have lunch.”

“Read.”

“Recess.”

He nodded with a light laugh. “You know what, that’s fair.”

Jacob cocked his head to the side. “Did you like school?”

“I loved school.”

“What was your favorite subject?”

“Math.” A simultaneous false gag from three different mouths made him jump slightly, glancing over his shoulder. “Jesus—”

“I hate math,” Lydia declared. “We started multiplication and it makes my head hurt.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Ethan’s nose wrinkled. “I like math, but it’s definitely not my favorite. Hey, do you have tattoos?”

“No.”

“Can we see them?”

Sirius’ brow knit. “I just told you I don’t have any.”

“You’re a hockey player, you gotta have tattoos. Thomas Walker has them, Cole Reyes has them, James Potter has them…”

“James doesn’t have tattoos,” Sirius snorted. “Where are you getting your information?”

“My brother. He knows everything.”

“How old is he?”

“Eleven.”

Sirius nodded slowly, biting the inside of his cheek. “A wise age.”

“How many teeth are you missing?”

“None, dude,” Jacob interrupted. “Didn’t you see earlier? He has perfect teeth. Hey, Mr. Sirius Black, did you have braces?”

“No.”

“Your teeth just grew like that?”

“Mhmm.”

“I just lost a tooth last week.”

Sirius stopped at the corner, looking over his shoulder at them. “Oh, really? Your first?”

“Nah, my fifth,” Jacob answered, as jaded as a third-grader could get. “It’s boring now. I got a quarter for it, though. My sister wanted to tie it to a doorknob, but my dad didn’t let her.”

Lydia nodded solemnly. “My cousin lost her first tooth when a piñata hit her.”

“I lost mine while I was eating a tuna sandwich,” Ethan added. “Then it was a blood sandwich. It was crazy.”

“Gross,” Lydia said with great approval.

Apparently satisfied with the direction the conversation had gone, the car remained near-silent for almost fifteen seconds. They headed past several gas stations (and their pigeon-filled parking lots) before stopping once again at a red light.

Ethan let out a loud gasp. “Tim Hortons!”

Sirius turned as if on instinct, craning his neck, before he seemed to realize the danger of the situation. Lydia slapped at the back of the driver’s seat with an excited hand, bouncing in her booster. “We gotta go, we gotta go, we gotta go.”

To his credit, Sirius spared a half-second to consider it. “Absolutely not.”

To his demise, Sirius spared a half-second to consider it. They fell on him like miniature wolves to a downed caribou.

“Please,” Ethan begged. “Please, please, their hot cocoa is so good, you don’t understand.”

“I’m Canadian, I understand better than you do.”

“Then we have to go!”

“There is no world where I get three kids on a Tim Horton’s sugar rush before school.” He shook his head and began turning off Main Street. “Not in this lifetime. Your teachers would hunt me for sport.”

“You’re Canadian! You’re—you’re Queb—” Ethan made a frustrated noise and turned to Jacob. “What’s the word for Quebec people?”

“…Canadians…?”

“Quebecois,” Sirius informed him. His eyes widened slightly. “Wow, is that the first question you’ve asked that I can actually answer?”

“You’re Quebecois,” Ethan continued, stumbling over each syllable. He made it there in the end, but not before everyone else in the car made a pained face. “That means you have to take us to Tim Horton’s.”

“No.”

Lydia’s eyes were fever-bright in the backseat, as if she had knocked back a handful of jellybeans and Red Bull. “Timmy’s, Timmy’s, Timmy’s…”

“Please, no.”

Jacob and Ethan brightened immediately, because of course they did. Sirius watched the road in mournful disbelief, like he was driving into his personal hell with no exit ramp in sight. “TIMMY’S, TIMMY’S, TIMMY’S—”

“I’ve never having children.”

“TIMMY’S, TIMMY’S, TIMMY’S, TIMMY’S—”

The shouting came to an abrupt halt. Sirius parked the car under the shade of a large oak tree and waited for several seconds, until all three kids started to exchange wary looks. The silence dragged on. Polyester and cotton rustled.

Sirius rested his elbow on the console and turned to the backseat, one eyebrow raised. “Are we done?”

“Are you gonna turn this car around?” Jacob whispered in quiet horror.

“Non. I have a deal for you, though.” Instant curiosity overcame their concern. Sirius held three fingers up. “One: don’t kick the back of my seat. Two: don’t yell in my car, it’s very distracting. Three: Count five pigeons by the time we get to school. I will ask your parents if I can bring you Timbits—”

Gasps of delight filled the car.

“—if you promise to do all three of those things.”

Jacob tucked his hands under his legs, all but vibrating with anticipation. “Can you get cinnamon ones?”

“Can you find five pigeons?”

“Of course I can,” he whispered.

Sirius nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Do you make a million bajillion dollars?” Lydia asked.

“Non. But I do have money for Timbits for nice kids who ask cool questions.”

Ethan’s mouth fell open. “We’re nice kids who ask cool questions!”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius gave a teasing hum. “I don’t know. Think you can prove it in the next five minutes?”

“What kind of dog do you have?” Lydia asked without hesitation.

“Oh, that is a good question.” The car rumbled to life, and they pulled onto the road without issue. “I don’t know. She’s black, and she has pointy ears.”

“How long do you want to play hockey?”

“Oof. A while. Maybe ten more years? We’ll see.”

Ethan finished peeling the sticker off his booster seat and reached over Lydia to stick it on Jacob’s. “Is being an adult fun?”

“Yes.”

“Is it hard?”

“Yes.”

“If you could get in a time machine and be eight again, would you do it?”

“No.”

Jacob frowned. “How come?”

“Because I like being able to make my own dinner, I would miss my friends, and I wouldn’t be able to get Tim Horton’s whenever I want to.”

Lydia started to kick the back of his seat in boredom, but quickly tucked her foot behind her other leg. “If you were eight and went to our school, do you think we would be friends?”

Sirius smiled, moving slowly past a wire fence. “Sure.”

“Can you say more French stuff?”

“Comme quoi?”

“Um—can you say ‘hello’?”

“Bonjour.”

Jacob chewed on his lower lip. “Can you say…this school is super cool?”

“Cette école est très cool.”

“Is ‘cool’ the same in both?”

“Ouais.”

“Okay, stop, stop, you gotta do English now,” Ethan said hurriedly, waving his hands. “I don’t speak French.”

“That’s okay, you can learn,” Sirius laughed. They rolled to a stop in a mostly-empty section of the parking lot; he waved to someone outside, and the children quickly followed suit. He propped his arm on the console again and raised his eyebrows. “I think your parents are ready to have you back. Any last questions?”

“Do you like books?”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“What kind of Timbits do you like?’

“Have you been playing hockey since before we were born?”

“How does electricity work?”

“Do you kiss your boyfriend? Oh, yeah, how do cars work?”

“How come the sky changes colors but the ocean doesn’t?”

Sirius didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, blue, all of them, yes, I think it’s something with electrons and metal? Yes, engines and combustion, and because the sky and the ocean are made of different things.”

“Okay,” Jacob said with a decisive nod. “Cool! Thanks!”

“Thank you, this was lots of fun.” Sirius unbuckled his seat belt and stepped out of the car, then came around and opened the backseat door for them. They spilled out in a pile, each meeting his gentle fist-bump with incredible enthusiasm that only grew when he feigned injury at the strength of their hands. Their booster seats came free with little finagling. “Alright, go see your parents. I can carry these.”

“Wait!” Lydia yelped, turning on her heel halfway through a step. “What about the Timbits?”

“Nobody kicked my seat or yelled,” Sirius mused, gathering the boosters in his arms. “Pigeons?”

“Two on the sidewalk, one in the parking lot, and two at the Gas ‘n Sip,” Jacob announced.

“Then they’ll be here when you get out of school,” he promised. They shook on it, tiny hands dwarfed by his palm, before they were off at a sprint once more. “Be safe! Don’t trip on the concrete!”

[bedforddanes75]

I want Gabs “Mrs. Healy” belt 😔

u want WHAT. I DIDNT KNOW ABOUT THIS ?!?!??!?!??!?!?!??! OH MY GOD BITCH ME TOO ???

[danime25]

Santa Baby

ao3 // normal masterlist // christmas masterlist

*Summary: The Nice Guys Agency was on the case again. This time to get a lead, Healy dresses up like Santa Claus. Hijinks ensue for him

*Rating: T for Teen

*Content/Tags: Crack, General Holland Mischief

*Status: Drabble/Complete

“You look fine. No one’s gonna know.” Holland said, waving his hands around

“I look like an idiot, March.” Healy gave his partner a look. ‘If this wasn’t for an investigation, I’d kill you’, that kind of look

“You just look like a normal mall Santa Claus.” Holland lit up a cigarette, leaning against the tiled wall, “Now let’s go before we lose track of our lead.”

“March I swear… fine. But isn’t going to look a little fucking weird if I’m dressed up like Santa and walking around the place, and you’re dressed like it’s just another fucking day in LA?”

“Yeah.” Holland shrugged a little bit, “But I didn’t bring anything else.”

“Fuck. You.”

---

“Here. This way, Santa.”

“You’re on real fucking thin ice.” Healy muttered under his breath

“Now that’s no way to talk. What if a child heard you?”

“Then I would apologize. You? I care less about.”

“There you are! About time you got back from lunch.” One of Santa’s elves came and pushed Healy away from Holland

“Shit.” Holland said between gritted teeth. “Healy,” every call for his partner getting more frantic and desperate.

“I think you got me confused.” Healy tried to tell the worker

“Listen I’ve got 50 screaming brats wondering where the hell Santa went, now get your ass back over there.” The worker looked into Healy’s eyes without a shred of compassion

“Okay. Fine.” Healy sighed and followed the worker. The kids screamed at the sight of Healy pretending to be Santa. He sat in the big chair and waited for the first kid to get through the line. A little girl practically hopped into his lap and started listing off all the gifts she wanted.

“You promise I’ll get everything?”

“Uh…” Healy darted his eyes back and forth, “I promise to try?”

“Okay, thank you Santa!” She smiled and hugged him before the two posed for a picture. Then they paraded the next kid in, and the next one. Healy didn’t ever want to hear the words jack in a box or raggedy ann again in his life. The next person walked in and Healy nearly lost it in that instant.

“March what the fu…”

“Fudge! We love fudge here at the North Pole!” One of the workers tried to cover up Healy’s swear

“What do you want,” Every word of Healy’s was punctuated by the air sucked in between his teeth

“Well,” Holland starts to say before sitting on Healy’s lap. They both realize as he makes contact that Holland has a bulge in his pants

“What the fu…dge. I swear to… Mrs. Claus.”

“All I want for Christmas… is to spend the day with my partner and daughter.”

“That sounds really nice for your partner and your daughter.” Healy replied

“Thanks Santa.” He hugged the other man as the camera flashed. They guided Holland out and towards the table where he could buy prints of the photos. Healy’s eyes followed after Holland for a while until they sat the next kid down on his lap. A boy, who clearly didn’t want to meet Santa. Healy tried to laugh, but that only seemed to bother the kid more. So much so that Healy felt a warmth spread across his leg and he lifted the kid up. The mom took her son into her arms and scolded him quietly, before turning to apologize to Healy.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Matthew, apologize to Santa.”

“Sorry.” The kid mumbled

“It’s fine.” Healy sighed and got up, “I need to clean up.”

“Okay. Five minutes.” The cameraman tells Healy. Healy gets up and walks away from the set. He gets around the corner where Holland laid in wait.

“Jesus. Fucking scaring me March.”

“Thought you’d want your clothes back.” Holland lifted a stack up into the air, which Healy yanked from his grip quickly. He went to the bathroom and shoved the Santa costume into the trash on his way out. Holland dangled something in Healy’s face and Healy squinted to look at it

“March. What the fuck is this?”

“Our picture. Something for Holly.”

“I swear to god March, you better sleep with one eye open from now on.”

“It’s not that bad, you’re even smiling!” Holland smiled, definitely not helping his case

“Give that to me.” Healy tried to wrestle the stupid picture out of Holland’s grasp

[talleyuh]

the amount of lyrical parallels in this album is insane.

“i was a functioning alcoholic until someone noticed my new aesthetic.” she ACTUALLY had champagne problems - fortnight

“i founded the club she’s heard great things about.” the tortured man’s club group chat with joe alwyn and phoebe bridger’s ex-fiancé paul mescal. - so long, london

“but i’m not the one.” in the 1, she says “it would’ve been sweet, if it could’ve been me.” - so long, london

“at the park where we used to sit on children’s swings wearing imaginary rings” “green was the color of the grass where i used to read at centennial park.” - fresh out the slammer

“i keep recalling things we never did.” the rumors of taylor and matty healy dating even though they were only seen together a couple times - guilty as sin?

“you don’t get to tell me about sad” a line that was rumored but eventually revealed from a doctored clip of taylor and joe arguing in a restaurant - who’s afraid of little old me?

“so tell me everything’s not about me, but what if it is? they say they didn’t do it to hurt me, but what if they did?” in the reputation era taylor was isolated with no one but joe while everyone was attacking her

“you caged me and you called me crazy.” it was just taylor and joe living in private together until the pandemic ended and the eras tour began.

“They shake their heads saying, "God, help her" when I tell 'em he's my man, but your good lord doesn't need to lift a finger.” directly parallels call it what you want because in both songs she doesn’t care about what people said about them.”

“mr steal your girl, then make her cry” taylor left calvin harris when she met joe alwyn - loml

“it wasn’t sexy once it wasn’t forbidden” this ties into when the two of them kept their love affair a secret, but once folklore dropped taylor was more outspoken about their relationship - the smallest man who ever lived

and finally, “but you are what you did” directly contradicts innocent. even though they’re about two different people, he’s no longer an innocent - the smallest man who ever lived

[toomuchracket]

PLS PLS PLS GIVE US POLLY KICKING D WORD MATTY IN THE SHIN LORE AHHHHHHHHHHH *that’s me screaming at the top of my lungs omg*

buckle up, babies, it's lore time.

basically, on tour, when there's no show on a sunday (or even if there is, you'll do this before or after), you and the girls (polly and gabi, and if charli and mrs mac and carly are around they'll join in) congregate in someone's room to drink wine and eat snacks and gossip and watch a movie. sunday sesh. and you all agree to make a point of continuing it after tour each week or every couple of weeks, just for a catch up, alternating whose house you're all meeting at. the first sunday after tour ends, it's your flat at 6pm. cute, nice, fun.

unfortunately for you, quite literally as soon as the plane landed back in london, you and matty sped back to yours and have been holed up in the flat doing nothing but fucking (catching up on all the sex that was impossible to have on a packed tour bus), so fervently that to be completely honest neither of you have any idea what day it is anymore. so, yes, as you can imagine, sunday comes around, and you're practically none the wiser.

anyway, you and your boyfriend order a takeaway for dinner. the intercom buzzes, and nobody speaks, so you figure it's the food. matty - shirtless, literally wearing grey sweatpants and nothing else - says "babe, you get the plates, i'll go to the door for the food", and you - wearing underwear and one of his t-shirts - agree.

the door goes. matty opens it and goes into a coughing fit. because, as you've probably guessed by now, it's not the food at all, it's the girls. all of them. and they look HORRIFIED. carly nearly drops the literal box of wine bottles in her arms in shock, but gabi grabs them before they hit the ground.

nobody really seems to know what to say, until matty decides to awkwardly lean against the doorframe in an attempt to be casual and asks "so... what are you doing here?" - charli folds her arms and says "you answer that question first, healy", and he's like "um. hanging out". polly squints at him (she doesn't have her glasses on) and says "is your face wet? why?", and matty literally cannot resist smirking and saying "you're really asking me that? they could revoke your lesbian card for that, mate"; she scoffs and kicks him in the shin like "don't be such a twat" (but she does it harder than she means to and he's genuinely like "ow! pol!"), while the rest of the girls start groaning in exasperation at him being crude like "oh my god, i can't believe she's fucking you" and "give me strength" and "well, the slut uniform makes sense now" lmao.

meanwhile, you're back in the flat wondering why matty's taking so long, so you pad into the hallway like "baby? everything alright?", and when you hear what is unmistakably mrs mac screech "baby? what the fuck?" you blanch as you realise what day it is and run to the door to save your boyfriend from the wrath of the girls. like, you stand in front of him protectively (he puts his arms around your waist it's very cute) and muster up a smile like "hi girls. forgot it was sunday. soz. how are things with you all?", and mrs mac is like "don't deflect, sweetheart - explain. now", and you sigh like "you'd better come in. matty, babe, could you wait for the food while i talk to them for a second?", and he says "of course, darling", and kisses your nose to further noises of disgust (and an "awww!" from carly lol) as the girls make a beeline for the living room.

anyway, you're like "can i have two seconds to make myself presentable?", and charli's like "absolutely not. spill" - you take a deep breath, and you tell them everything. i mean, not the d word stuff, but the rest of it; you're like "first of all, just to preface, because i know you all worry about me - it's serious. very. we're in love, guys", and despite themselves everyone smiles. gabi's like "how long have you been, y'know, a thing?", and when you're tell them that it's been like 7 months "but we wanted to wait until tour was over to say, so nobody thought it was like, i don't know, just a fling while we were away together, or that he was taking advantage of me" they're all like "jesus. alright".

matty comes back into the room just as polly says "you've seemed a lot happier on this leg of tour, to be honest. so has he, actually", and he giggles when you quip "yeah, well, it's nice having someone to fall asleep with in hotel rooms. and the other stuff that happens in there". mrs mac takes a long drink of wine and winces as matty snuggles in beside you and digs into idk chow mein or whatever, and she's like "the realisation that all of your sex stories were about matty... i feel a bit ill. i should not have asked for details about the hot tub. or the time i caught you having phone sex on the bus. or the time i heard you through the wall and you told me it was the best sex you'd ever had. christ"; matty's like "best sex you've ever had? aww, babe", and you roll your eyes while he kisses your head but you smile and kiss his hand. carly giggles like "you guys are actually really cute, you know. adam thinks so too" - matty sits up straight like "carly you did not tell the boys please tell me you didn't", and charli's like "of course we did. had it in the chat before your girlfriend even appeared. also they're on their way over, squizz and john and all, so i'd put some clothes on unless you want them to rip the piss out of you even more than they're already going to". you giggle while matty groans and trudges off to get a shirt and some leggings for you, and on his way back mrs mac corners him in the hallway and says "you know i love you, and i'm actually really glad you're happy and you're dating someone who's not a dick. but i love her just as much as i love you, and i promise you that if you ever hurt her, healy, i WILL castrate you with a pair of nail scissors. got it?"; he's like "jesus alright. but i won't hurt her, mate. she's it for me, really. gonna marry her one day. m'serious", and she beams like "oh, that's lovely. still. i'm keeping nail scissors in my bag from now on. just in case" lol. but yeah! that's how everyone finds out about you and matty lmao

[missyourflight]

some stuff i read and watched in june:

taskmaster (s1-5): haven't done an early seasons rewatch in so long, s4 and 5 are basically perfect 2 me. incredible that mark watson manages to be both my favourite type of taskmaster guy (hopelessly despairing) and also nearly won the thing lol. nish forever obviously

silo: got well into this! probably at some point apple will stop throwing millions at sci-fi shows but i'm going to enjoy their folly in the meantime

mission: impossible ii: hadn't seen this one! the weakest of the lot but the john woo of it all is undeniable

mission: impossible iii: PSH outrageously good as the villain, hi keri russell

mission: impossible - ghost protocol: so much fun, especially the sequences where you can see brad bird's animation brain going

mission: impossible - rogue nation: ILSA my beloved, the opera sequence is so gorgeous, no notes!

mission: impossible - fallout: it's good when henry cavill reloads his arms, it's better when tom cruise is sprinting around london rooftops and breaking his ankle etc, my most basic trait is that i Love when they're in london like oooh tate modern. anyway i'm very ready for dead reckoning

asteroid city: the bits about making art really got to me! the vending machines were cool!

joint security area: crash landing on you prepared me for this, blank check weren't lying when they said it was homoerotic, song kang-ho forever etc

dodie smith, the town in bloom: the most delightful narrative voice i've read in Ages and v funny. easy to sell me on 1920s theatrical shenanigans

k patrick, mrs s: So hot and butch, i liked the butch friendship stuff almost more than the sex stuff. more sexy lesbian novels Please

kj charles, the secret lives of country gentlemen: another winner from KJC, my most reliable romantic comfort reads. this time it's smugglers!

alice slater, death of a bookseller: sticky little thriller about being poisoned by true crime, great sense of place, So many pints of dark fruits

laura kay, wild things: bisexual disaster in love with her best friend, tragically very me- and also george russell-coded, god i want to swim in a pond again

SOME STUFF I SAW AT ROCK WERCHTER

the dj on the first nigt who played a mash up of i'm gonna be (500 miles) into temperature and then the 1d cover of one way or another into little lion man (deeply cursed fandom flashbacks etc)

weyes blood with candelabras and glowing hearts and amazing adam curtis projections on the big screen behind her

king princess sending the gay girls of belgium absolutely wild - "you wanna hear a sad lesbian song?"

matty healy is a dickhead but he's very good at being the frontman of the 1975. like if ben whishaw was straight and kind of disgusting

stormzy!!! literally the rain was pouring during blinded by your grace pt 2

mumford and sons - this whole festival was like being borne back ceaseless into the past but the cave still fucks me up, marcus really in his ken marino era, face-wise

PUP - i do believe if this tour doesn't kill you, i will to be a wholly perfect song, they had a trans flag on stage, best vibes of the festival

sigur ros - sometimes you just want to be in a massive barn with thousands of people with your faces turned up in the dark feeling like you're inside the sound somehow

muse - fucking incredible live band still!! every time i'm see them i'm floored by how hot chris the bassist is and then i forget about it and then i see them again and i'm poleaxed etc. they had a tech meltdown during knights of cydonia at the encore so we got showbiz instead!!

christine and the queens - beautiful and terrible as the dawn

jacob collier - asked if we wanted to get funky then put on a special hat, bit george russell-coded in the face

arctic monkeys - sometimes you just want to be in a field with one of your oldest friends singing the songs of your youth!! i love the 70s act actually! there are so many sexy songs on AM!! the skies finally cleared for the beautiful full moon, thank you belgium, good night

[the1975attheirverybest]

can we also talk about how sweet he was for jumping off the stage to hug a fan who'd been crying during I Always Wanna Die Sometimes and then jumped/ pulled himself back up. Very strong, Mr Healy, I'm impressed

It was so so so so so sweet of him. Sure yeah the jump was very sexy and all but oh my god my heart burst at his lovely it was that he went out of his way to hug her.

[abiiors]

this last hour has been the most stressful hour of my life my hair is falling out i'm so serious MATTHEW WHEN I FIND YOU MATTHEW YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING TIT oh my god

matty healy is responsible for like 5 years being taken off all our lives tbh THIS IS SO STRESSFUL

MR HEALY HAVE YOU NO COMPASSION FOR MY NERVES

[beachesgetpeaches]

in retrospect this post would have been funnier if i would have been able to attach a photo of me meeting mr healy somewhere in the streets but alas i have angered the gods and was not allowed these simple joys of life

walking around amsterdam and saying "matty healy, matty healy, matty healy" every 20 minutes as if he's fucking beetlejuice and will appear behind me

[maxverstappensflatbrim]

Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [13]

chapter thirteen, act two: anobrain

masterlist

November 1st 2013

Tommie has always felt like out of all the places in America, New York would be scariest. It's big and that's where all the big American crime drama shows she watches are set, with things like the mafia or random serial killers.

But no, LA, is by far, the scariest place she has visited.

With people screaming as you pass by, strangers trying to sell you CDs and monks handing out bracelets. The dress up characters (something she used to be afraid of as a child), getting handsy as you walk through the touristy parts creeped her out, and if one more person tried to hand her a flower she was going to scream.

Not even Times Square was this bad.

Her anxiety was getting the better of her and the deeper they got into the walk of fame the more she clung onto Matty’s arm.

He’d sensed her anxiety a while back and had kept closer as the other three oblivious men (of course men, what anxieties do they need to have while walking down a street in the night) walked on ahead.

“Do you want to turn back?”

She shakes her head, “I’d rather not go back through all of them.”

He grins as they get closer to the loud music of this pub a friend had recommended, “Almost there anyway, we’ll get a taxi back from right outside when we’re done, yeah?”

She nods quickly, “Okay.”

His hand lifts to play with some strands of her hair, she’d had a shower before they left and hadn’t had time to dry it, so it was a curly wavy mess.

“I like your hair like this.”

“Really?”

He nods, pulling on it and watching the curl bounce back into place, “It’s messy but put together at the same time, like you. It suits you.”

Tommie stuck by him all night, they both shared a drink, they only did one shot, a couple ciders, and had two G&T’s.

About an hour after Tommie had finished sipping on her orange gin and tonic she and Matty had ordered an uber from right outside and gone back to the hotel, leaving the other three in the bar, all of them too far gone with John running around after them.

In the lift Tommie sighs, leaning back against the wall as she kicks off the heels that George’s date for the night had let her borrow.

She leans down to rub at her left foot while struggling to undo the strap of the right one at the same time.

Matty gives a lopsided smile and kneels down to help her, he taps his knee and she holds her weight on the railing so her aching foot doesn’t take all the weight.

It’s a little hard in her tipsy head but she manages to hold herself upright.

He carefully undoes the strap, slides off the heel, and then delicately places her foot back down, his hand following his movements up her bare leg slowly as he stands.

Her shoes now in his free hand until she stands upright and shoves it into the pocket of his skinny jeans.

“God,” She groans and grimaces, “Did you see that one couple?”

He nods, “The ones that were practically having sex on the table?”

She nods trying to rid the image of the girl lying flat on her back with the guy on top of her, “What ever happened to hello?” She wonders.

“Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together; sophistication demands that they submit to sex immediately without proper preliminary talk. Not courting talk — real straight talk about souls, for life is holy and every moment is precious.”

She rolls her eyes, “Stop quoting that book all the time, you twat.”

“Can’t help it,” He shrugs, “Read it so much it's engraved in my brain. Like you with fantastic mr fox. Guarantee you could quote that film word for word.”

“I can’t.”

He nudges her hip with his, “Don’t lie, you definitely can.”

She shrugs her shoulders, “Maybe a few scenes.”

She looks him up and down, “Are you not hot?”

“I’ve been told I am.” He says cheekily leaning to her.

She rolls her eyes, shoving him out the lift when it stops on their floor, “I meant warm, physically, it’s bloody boiling out here.”

“You just think that ‘cause you’re ginger.”

“No, I think that ‘cause I’ve sweat through three t-shirts today.”

She groans as she tries digging around in her pocket, “What?”

“I’m sharing with Ross, he has my key card.”

He pulls his from the back pocket, “I was supposed to be sharing with George until he ditched me for that bird he met a couple days ago, so I have a free bed.”

She smiles, following him inside, “Life saver, you.”

She faceplants the first bed she comes across but he tugs at the foot that hangs off the bed, “Uh uh, my bed’s always the one closest to the door.”

“Why? You gonna fight off any attackers with that pigeon chest?” 

He laughs sarcastically, “I was thinking more if anything goes wrong I can run out the fastest.”

“My knight in shining armour, you are.”

He says nothing, just aggressively throws her a pair of shorts an old the cure t-shirt, she’s halfway through pulling it, looking at her tired face in the bathroom mirror that she realises it's her own shirt she lost about four months ago on the tour.

“Hey!”

She rips open the bathroom door and he looks up, “What?”

“I’ve been looking for this top.”

“It’s mine.”

She shakes her head, “No, Adam bought me this when you guys went to that concert a couple years ago. It was my christmas present, my mam spilt wine on it and it stained, look!”

She shoves the stain into his face and he leans back, pushing his glasses up on top of his head.

“Well, it looks better on me anyway.” He says, holding back the smirk.

She grins and pushes him so he falls back on the bed, “Ow, not funny, think I landed on the remote.”

He winces and she feels slightly bad, slightly.

“Pull me up so I can get dressed.”

“Get up yourself.”

“Think it’s only fair after the attempted assault I just endured.”

Rolling her eyes she holds her hands out and he grips them both, he starts pulling himself up but he uses all his body weight to fall back and pull her down with him.

She laughs, bending his arm awkwardly to hold him down, “Tap out.”

“No.”

He tries to twist around but only ends up with her overpowering him even more, “Tap out. I’ll break your arm, Roddy, not even joking.”

He flips her off and they play fight for a while giggles and tickles being passed around until eventually she pinning his arms above his head and panting heavily.

She grins down at him but there’s no humour on his face, his eyes are lidded, head slightly tilted back to stare up at her.

“I won.”

“Mhmm.”

He bites down on his lip and she watches as he has some internal battle behind his eyes as they flicker around her face.

She leans back a little, grip loosening, “Matt-”

He moves forward quickly, sitting up, one hand holding him up on the bed, the other circling around to her back to hold her there as his lips land on hers.

It’s a quick and harsh peck, his bottom lip between hers, their noses pressed into each other's cheeks creating indentations of each other.

He pulls back, doesn’t say a thing as he looks at her, assessing her.

He knows her.

He knows that the softness of her eyes means she at least didn’t hate it. Knows that the crinkle on her one eye means she’s thinking it over.

And he knows that that smile… he knows that that smile will be the death of him.

She moves forward, both her hands in his hair as she brings him closer, leaning backwards until she’s lying flat on her back and he’s on top of her.

His hands are everywhere all at once.

She’s addicting, her taste, her sound, everything about her, he can’t get enough.

One moment his hands are threading through her hair, the next they’re on her face, thumbs rubbing across her round cheeks, then they’re travelling down her arms, down her rib cage, her waist, he wants to touch parts of her no one's even thought of touching before.

He wants to know everything. 

He opens his eyes, moving back so he can look, like really look, not like his usual fleeting glances where he’s afraid he’ll get caught.

She lifts herself up on her elbows, trying to chase his lips but he stops her, “Wait, I want to see you.”

She giggles, “I’m right here, Matty.”

“No, I want to see you.” He moves to kiss her cheek, “Explore you,” A kiss on her jaw, “See the way you work, the way you move, hear the way you sound when you cry my name.”

She slaps his chest, but then curls her hand around his white t-shirt to bring his lips back to hers, he mumbles into her lips, “You’re so addicting.”

“That’s just the oxytocin, darling.”

He groans into her ear, biting down on her bottom lip and pulling back, “Call me that again.”

“What? Darling?”

He nods, leaning back to pull his t-shirt off and toss it across the room, “Come here, darling.”

He smiles into the kiss as he pushes her back, their teeth clashing together as he pushes her top upwards.

She doesn’t have a bra on, and he feels himself grow harder when his hands meet her breast.

She arches her back, pushing her hips into his own, “Matty, I’ve-”

He moves his kisses to her neck, “I know. We can stop.”

She shakes her head quickly, hands gripping his shoulders, encouraging his arms to go higher, “No, no,” She shakes her head, the words leaving her lungs in one breath, “Please.”

He moves his kisses to her collar bone, tugging down on the neck of the t-shirt but still telling her, “One word, one word and we’ll stop, Tommie.”

“Just go slow,” She says, chest pushing into his, her hands squeezing his upper arms, “Be gentle.”

“Always with you.”

When Tommie thought of losing her virginity she didn’t think it would be in a hotel room in LA with her cousin’s best mate.

She thought it would be a drunken one night stand with a complete stranger to get it over and done with.

She’s glad it’s Matty.

She trusts Matty.

He finally peels the t-shirt off in a painstakingly slow manner, letting out a low guttural groan at the sigh of her bare chest in front of him, “God.”

 His hands move to her shorts, tugging them down and throwing them to the pile, “One word, Tommie.” He says again, moving further down the bed to pull her underwear off too.

She doesn’t say anything, lets herself get lost in the  feel of his hands and the fabric pooling at her ankles.

She doesn’t say a single thing until his hands are on her again, “Please.”

He nods, “Gonna go slow, baby,” He kisses her between her thighs, “Nice and slow.”

It was slow, and gentle, but fast and rough at the right times.

It was a mix of his moans and her loud screams of his name as they both allowed themselves to come undone around one another.

It was a mix of hands and mouths roaming each other’s bodies, exploring across freckles like stars on a constellation map.

At one point, when Matty had flipped her over, a pillow beneath her stomach, his hands pushing her shoulder blades down he’d leaned forward and quietly whispered (while still inside her). ‘You have a group of freckles shaped like a moon.’

He’d slowly traced his finger around the crescent shape on her shoulder and then leaned forward to place a kiss there.

“I know.”

Then his lips had moved to the tattoo on the other shoulder, her own words from her poem and coincidentally their song lay there.

He kissed the tattoo, lips slightly open and pushing into her skin before he dragged his bottom lip up towards the nape of her neck.

Only glancing back at the words once more before he pushed himself deeper into her.

‘I love you, don’t you mind?’

But now they lie silently beneath the covers of the bed closest to the door, he pushes the hair from her face, kissing her temple as she allows herself to nuzzle deeper into him.

“Matty?”

She yawns and he carries on playing with her hair, “Yeah, baby?”

“You know what I was saying like oxytocin and serotonin and stuff?”

He hums, “It’s not the chemicals.” She mutters quietly, “Just you.”

He smiles to himself, listening to her breath even out as she finally falls asleep, he pulls back to look down at her, head tilted as he gives her forehead one last kiss. “Good night, beautiful girl.”

Then, shifting further down the bed so he can comfortably rest his head on her chest just above her heart, he allows the sound of her to consume him until he falls asleep.

taglist

@thereisaplaceintheheart

@indierockgirrl

@sofaritsalrightt

@julezs-bl0g

@eaglestar31

@sophinthealpss

@if-my-heart-bleeds

-let me know if you want to be added :)