#first matty x taylor fic

[allylikethecat]

are people going to hate me if i write an omegaverse matty fic 🙈 because it seems like that is something that might be getting posted in the coming days... i mean... it can't be worse than my mpreg matty fic right?

[leona-hawthorne]

SELFISH / mattheo riddle

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary: he dreams of you after you leave him because of his addiction

warnings: angst, addiction, drug use, swearing, mention of vomit (super brief), established relationship, mattheo and reader live together, post-war

words: 4.4k

a/n: i went to the melanie martinez concert yesterday! yay! anyways here’s a depressing fic for you <3 also i can’t lie, this was kind of inspired by that one line in chloe or sam or sophia or marcus by taylor swift (included at the end)

navigation mattheo riddle masterlist

The dim light of the kitchen amplified the feeling of darkness threatening to take over your soul as you sat perched on the counter, silk robe slipping off your shoulder. The sweet scent of fresh cookies flooded your nostrils each time you took a breath, the tray resting on top of the stove. An ice pack was pressed to the burn you’d just attained as you were taking the cookies out of the oven.

It seemed baking was one of your many ways of running from your problems instead of solving them.

Mattheo would be home soon. And unbeknownst to the poor boy, you were currently contemplating how to do it. How to leave him.

Maybe you should just leave now, before he returns. No fuss. Or maybe you could spend one more night in his loving arms and then leave a note on the fridge and quietly slip out at the first cracks of light. But that seemed cruel. You knew what you had to do. You had to tell him face to face. That’s what’s right, isn’t it?

If only it wasn’t so hard.

At heart, Mattheo Riddle was a selfish man.

He was selfish when you kissed him for the first time and he greedily pulled you back in. He was selfish the first time he saw you talking to another boy and got his knuckles bloody because you were supposed to be his only. He was selfish when you gave him your body for the first time and he ravished it from dusk to dawn. He was selfish when he continued to love you during the war, knowing his very being compromised your safety. And he was especially selfish when he didn’t flush the powder down the toilet each time after you washed him of his own fucking vomit. He was even more selfish because he didn’t want to let you go.

You were the light of his life, and as much as he wanted to tell himself that he didn’t know how he’d managed to snuff out your bright candle, that was a lie. With each action he took, with each time he ignored your teary eyes as he grabbed the bottle, there was a gust of wind blowing your once fiery spirit out. He felt as though a knife was being stabbed into his chest over and over and over again, piercing the tissue of his heart and breaking him down. He just couldn’t stop.

“Matty, please,” begging, your whispers would break apart, your voice trembling even in the quietest of tones. He’d shrink down to the floor with you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as your palm clamped over your mouth to silence your whimpers, his glazed eyes would look back to the drawer, unable to stop himself from walking to it.

Guilt, guilt, guilt. It was the only feeling he’d known for a long time now. Guilt, eating away at him as he stumbled home with dilated pupils, your beautiful soul straying from judgment and instead leaning his arm over your shoulder. Guilt, gnawing at his quivering fingers as they drew a new line of white, your muffled sobs leaking through the bathroom door. Guilt streaming down his cheeks in the form of tears as he held you in the aftermath, whispers of false promises that both of you knew were fake but wanted to believe anyway.

The sound of the front door creaking open shook you from your daze, furrowed brows relaxing and pulling your nails away from your teeth. You don’t move. You don’t get up to greet him. Even him walking through the door was a rocky road of memories for you. Sometimes, he’d come home with a smile and a kiss. Other times, he’d return with red eyes and arms that refused to hold onto you for help walking.

”Y/N?” His deep, tired voice called out.

”Kitchen.” You yelled, eventually hearing his footsteps approaching you. Still staring at the floor, you see his feet come into sight as he stands in front of you.

”You’re adorable, you know? Making my favorite cookies for when I get home.” He commented, giving you a lazy smile and a long kiss on the top of your head. “What happened to your finger?” He asked, concern filling his eyes as he saw the ice pack on your hand. You ignore his question.

With a shake of your head, you finally look up so your eyes meet his. “Um… Matt, baby, we need to talk.” Your voice is quiet as you contemplate which words to use. His face sours, lips curling downwards into a frown. “Okay…” He swallowed nervously.

You take a moment to really study your boyfriend’s face and lo and behold, his eyes are red. No surprise. Your expression doesn’t morph into shock or horror or concern. This is your usual now.

“What did you and Theo do today, Matt?” The question sounds innocent but Mattheo knows it is anything but.

“That’s what you wanted to talk about?” He chuckled nervously in an attempt to dodge your question.

”No, but I asked you a question.”

His head tilts down, staring at his feet embarrassedly, and after a long moment of silence, he answers. “You know.”

You huffed quietly, the sound a mixture of a bitter laugh and a scoff. “Yeah, I know… That’s actually what I wanted to talk about.”

His head snapped back up in an instant, eyes filling with fear that he desperately tried to cover up as his feet shifted around, the wooden floor creaking under him. You averted your eyes, unable to meet his fearful gaze as you just decided to be straightforward with it.

“I can’t watch this happen anymore, Mattheo.”

He stumbled back a bit, as if your words were a physical blow. “What?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you continue. “I’m done.” You got down from the kitchen counter to walk away but his hands were already grabbing at your arms. It was like his blood had turned to gasoline, your words the match. He’d been speechless for many moments, his brain going blank as your words settled in and became the only thing occupying his mind, bouncing around the corners of his skull with a groundbreaking echo. Anger, despair, and most of all, fear. Fear that he’d finally pushed you too far, that you were finally leaving. His hands grabbed at you in a desperate attempt to ground himself, to lock you to himself. “No, please—”

“Stop, Mattheo.” You mutter, your voice breaking. His hand froze, his heart clenching in his chest as your voice hit his ears. He hated the way you said his name. There was no love or warmth in it anymore. Just a cold, sharp edge.

“We can talk about this.” He pleaded, his voice becoming low and desperate. “Please, Y/N. Just let me explain.”

“This isn’t something we can fix with a fucking conversation, Mattheo. Not anymore.”

“We can try!” He insisted, his grip on your arm becoming a little firmer. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, and he wasn’t going to let you go without trying to fix this.

“Mattheo, we have tried.” You let out a broken sob.

“I know I messed up. And— and I’ll do better. I’ll stop, I’ll do anything.” He said, the desperation seeping into his voice. “Please, Y/N, I’m begging you.”

If it weren’t for the fact that you’d heard similar words leave his mouth many times before, you may have broken and given in.

“That’s not how that works and you know it.” You utter quietly, teary eyes darting back up to his.

He swallowed, suddenly feeling a mixture of anger and hurt wash over him. “You’re not even willing to fix it.” He spat, his grip on your arm tightening.

He hated the way you spoke to him, like it was so easy for you to walk away. It tore his heart out of his chest. “You don’t get to act like you’re better than me, because you’re not. You’re just a coward, running away instead of facing this like an adult.”

With a sniffle, you bit your tongue and said, “Maybe. But I can’t take this anymore, so I don’t care.”

He flinched at your words, the pain stabbing at his heart as he realized that to you, it was that simple. A part of him wanted to say something more, to convince you to stay, but he knew he couldn't do anything to change your mind. He didn’t deserve for you to change your mind.

And so, with a frustrated, heartbroken glare into your eyes, he abruptly took a few steps back away from you, the walls he’d spent ages lowering for you closing back up, the years worth of trust and progress shattering within an instant.

“Fine. Go ahead. Run away. See if I care.”

You swallowed and walked to your guys’ shared bedroom to pack your things, hoping the walls are thick enough to muffle your sobs.

He watched you walk away, feeling like a dagger was plunging deeper and deeper into his heart with every step you took. He wanted to run after you, to hold you in his arms right then and there and sink down to the living room floor with you, but the cold reality of everything that had happened hit him, and he stayed rooted in his spot, unable to move.

Sitting against the gray wall, he couldn’t even look at you as you walked out the door with your bags clutched in your shaking hands. After you left, he sat there for what felt like hours. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think. His mind was filled with an overwhelming mix of anger, resentment, betrayal, but most of all, an excruciating amount of just simple childlike sadness. It felt as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

And hours later, still in the same dumbstruck position, in the hazy depths of his mind, he could swear he heard your pretty voice, felt your gentle fingers tracing the outline of his face as they’d done so many times before.

Finally, he decided that he needed to do something, anything to distract himself from the painful emptiness. So he did the only thing he knew how: he went to the white nightstand beside what used to be the both of yours’ bed to take out the one thing he knew would quiet his pounding head.

His fingers brushed against the bottle, and his heart leaped as he recognized the familiar feel of its cylindrical shape. He pulled it out, his eyes widening with relief as he held the bottle in his hands. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He hastily opened the bottle as he walked towards the door leaned against it.

Soon enough, a sudden lightheadedness washed over him, and he sat there for a moment, enjoying the light fuzzy feeling inside his head. It helped to erase all the terrible thoughts that were plaguing his mind, making him feel like he was floating. He reached for another pill, but as he was about to take it, a voice at the back of his head started scolding him.

“What are you doing?”

He flinched as he heard the voice in his mind, his hands still clutching the bottle. He looked around, even though it was clear that the voice wasn’t coming from anywhere in his room. He tried to ignore it, shaking his head and popping another pill into his mouth.

But the voice didn’t go away. It grew louder, demanding he listen to it.

“Stop!”

He began to recognize the voice as yours.

He let out a frustrated groan, rolling his eyes at the voice. “Please shut up, I need this right now!”

But the voice kept echoing through his head. “But Mattheo, you’re hurting yourself. You’re hurting me. Don’t do this to us.”

Jesus, had he really gone so crazy to the point that he started hearing voices and talking to himself in an empty room?

Reluctantly, he laid the bottle back down beside him.

“Good job, pretty baby. Go drink some water.” Your voice murmured in the back of his head.

He felt a pang in his heart at the way you spoke to him. He missed having your hand gently soothing his cheek, your soft kisses planted on his skin. He missed you, even though he was trying his best not to, to just be mad. Hearing your voice in his head, so soft and gentle, was making him crave you even more.

He sniffled loudly, blinking away his tears before they could fall. He couldn’t help but obey.

Without wasting another second, he stood up and huddled off to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. As the cold liquid flowed down his throat, he couldn’t help but feel like you were there with him. He could almost imagine you standing beside him, softly stroking his hair like you had done countless times before.

Sauntering back to the bedroom with his eyes glazed over, he laid back down in the bed, pulling the quilt over his body. The fact that it was riddled with your scent didn’t help to soothe his aching chest. A tired, defeated sigh escaped his lips as he sunk into the soft mattress. His body felt heavy and fatigue washed over him, making it increasingly hard to keep his eyes open. He couldn’t help but wish it was you beside him instead of your pillow, your body pressed against his like it usually was every night.

Just as he was about to close his eyes, the voice spoke up again. “Go to sleep, my love. I’ll watch over you.”

His eyes snapped open and he sat up a bit straighter, his heart racing. God, you’re not really here, are you? You can’t be.

He shook his head, trying to convince himself that it was just his mind playing tricks on him. But the voice continued, growing even more fond.

“Relax, darling. Don’t overthink it. Just rest and I’ll see you in your dreams.”

Your voice in his head was so gentle, a soothing balm over the wound in his heart. He hesitated for a few moments before laying back down. He let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift off into a deep sleep.

But before he lost himself to the dream world, he could have sworn that he felt a gentle pair of lips grazing over his face.

In his dream, he found himself in a beautiful garden, surrounded by bright, colorful flowers. The air was filled with the sweet, fruity scents, and the warm sunlight danced on his skin softly. He stood there, taking a moment to drink in the beauty of his surroundings, before seeing a familiar figure in the distance.

You were walking towards him, dressed in a simple sundress. Your hair gently moved with the wind, and your eyes shimmered under the sunlight, resembling a star in the night sky. You were gorgeous, more beautiful than any flower in the garden.

He couldn’t help but smile as you approached him. He reached out for you, wanting to touch you and see if you were real. But as soon as his fingers brushed against your skin, you vanished, leaving him standing alone in the garden, all silent except for the sound of the gentle breeze.

His heart sank with confusion and disappointment as he realized he was alone again. He let out a frustrated scoff, kicking the grass as he began to look around the garden for you. Finally, he spotted you again, standing under an elegant archway.

He quickly closed the distance between the two of you, his hands reaching up to cup your face. He was relieved that he could touch you again. He softly caressed your cheeks, staring into your eyes with admiration. “I missed you so much,” he whispered, his voice filled with longing.

But before he could say anything else, you vanished once again. He gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling within him as he yelled out your name. He began desperately running around the garden, searching every corner until he spotted you sitting under a cherry blossom tree.

His heart leaped in his chest as he ran towards you, but as soon as he reached the tree, you disappeared once more. He felt his frustration reach its peak and he let out a groan of annoyance, his fists clenching as he yelled angrily.

“Stop disappearing on me! Let me hold you, damn it!”

Just as he was about to give up hope, he suddenly noticed you standing behind him. You were smiling, a kind and loving smile gracing your lips as you said, “Catch me if you can, pretty boy.”

His eyes widened as soon as he heard your voice. He slowly turned around to face you, his heart thumping rapidly as he realized you had really appeared. He reached out to grab you, but just as he was about to wrap his arms around your waist, you suddenly sprinted off, your laughter filling the air.

Despite the initial shock, he broke out into a huge, boyish grin. Without hesitation, he began chasing after you. He was laughing, feeling more alive than he had in weeks. As time flew by, the two of you ran through the flower garden, chasing each other like little children.

Finally, after a long chase, he managed to catch you. He pulled you close, wrapping his strong arms tightly around your body. He let out a satisfied laugh, his eyes filled with warmth and affection as he whispered, “Got you now.”

His heart swelled with happiness as you wrapped your arms around him too, your body pressed securely against his. He buried his face into your hair and breathed in your scent, feeling overwhelmed with contentment.

He let out a gentle sigh before pulling away just enough so he could look down at your face. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before murmuring, “I love you, darling.”

You pulled away slightly to look into his eyes, mirroring his look of contentment. “I love you too, beautiful boy,” you whispered as you gently caressed his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, relishing the feeling of your fingertips against his skin.

But when he opened his eyes, he was met with the image of your figure fading away, a startled gasp escaping him. “No! Come back!” He called out, but you were gone. He frantically looked around the garden, only to find that he was alone once more. He felt your absence like a physical ache, and a sense of longing washed over him.

He stood there, his heart feeling heavy and lonely as he whispered your name, hoping for you to come back. But there was no sign of you, no response to his calls. He sank down onto the grass, feeling lost and desperate. The sun continued to shine, almost as if mocking him and his misery.

He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to regain a sense of comfort, but it wasn't the same. He missed you, longed for your presence. He couldn't bear being alone anymore. The garden around him, which had been so beautiful and filled with life, now seemed empty and boring without you.

He closed his eyes as he lay flat on the ground. Suddenly he felt a kiss on his cheek. His eyes snapped open to see you standing above him with a teasing smile.

A mix of disbelief and happiness washed over him as he saw you standing there, a playful smile gracing your lips. He sat up straight, looking up at you with a mixture of relief and confusion. “You’re back,” he whispered, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

“What do you mean? I never went anywhere?…” Your voice echoes through the garden as you tilt your head in confusion, looking down at him.

He furrowed his brows, a bit confused by your answer. He looked around at the garden, which was now eerily quiet, then back at you. “But you disappeared. I was chasing you and you vanished.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ve been here the whole time.” You giggled, toying with the straps of your dress.

The confusion in his eyes only deepened as he listened to your words. He was starting to feel a bit disoriented, like he was stuck in a twisted dream. “No, you weren’t,” he insisted. “I lost sight of you for a moment, and then I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“Oh, beautiful boy. Are you seeing things again?” Your gentle voice echoed throughout the open field.

As he heard the echo of your voice, he felt a pang in his chest. There was something amiss, something that didn’t feel right. “I don’t understand… Are you really here, or is this just my imagination?” he asked, his voice filled with a hint of desperation.

“I’m whatever you want me to be,” You murmured, looking out at the swaying flowers with an innocent smile.

Frustration started to bubble up in him as he heard your ambiguous answer. “That’s not an answer. I need to know if you’re really here or if you’re just a figment of my imagination.” He stood up from the ground and stepped closer to you, his eyes fixed on your face, searching for any signs of truth in your expressions.

Your innocent smile morphed into a playful smirk, angling your head up to look at him. “Catch me,” You say before running again.

He watched you run away, a mix of frustration and determination now etched on his face. He let out a huff and began chasing after you once more. He was tired of feeling powerless and confused, and he was determined to catch you this time.

As he ran through the garden, the flowers of different colors and shapes passed him in a colorful blur. He pushed himself harder, ignoring the occasional thorns and leaves that clawed at his skin. His focus was solely on you, his eyes locked onto your figure as you darted through the garden.

He tried to strategize as he ran, trying to anticipate your next move. You were nimble and elusive, like a butterfly fluttering just out of reach. But he refused to give up. He zigzagged through the garden, trying to cut you off. He was getting closer, he was sure of it.

Finally, he saw an opportunity to cut you off as you headed towards a narrow path between two rows of tall bushes. He pushed himself to sprint even faster and managed to get in front of you, blocking your escape route.

He stood there in front of you, panting heavily from the chase. His chest was heaving, his eyes locked onto yours. “Caught you, darling,” he said breathlessly, a hint of triumph in his voice.

“Come back to me, Mattheo,” You whispered.

The sound of your voice was like a bandage to his tired soul. He stepped closer, closing the gap between them. He reached out and gently took your hands in his, his fingers intertwined with yours. "I'm right here, darling," he whispered back.

“No… You’re not. This isn’t real.”

He furrowed his brows, confusion and a tinge of hurt evident on his face. "What do you mean? Of course, this is real. We're here together, talking, touching. How can it not be real?”

He looked down at your intertwined fingers and lightly brushed his thumb over your knuckles, as if trying to convince himself of your tangible existence. "I can feel you," he murmured. "I can feel your skin against mine. How can that be unreal?"

He lifted one of your hands to his chest, placing it over his heart. It was hammering against his ribcage, his pulse strong and steady. "Can you feel that?" he asked quietly. "Can you feel my heartbeat? That's real. I'm real."

“No, you’re not, sweet boy,” You whisper, your body slowly fading away.

His eyes widened in alarm as he watched your form start to disappear once again. "No, no, no, no, you can't leave me!" He clutched at your hand tightly, unwilling to let you go. "No, you must be real. You have to be!" Panic and despair welled up inside him as he saw your body fading. He gripped tighter onto your hand, desperately trying to keep you with him. "Please, don't disappear," he pleaded, his voice trembling. "I need you. Don't leave me alone again."

“Wake up,” is the last thing you whisper before disappearing from his grasp.

His eyes snapped open, and he jolted upright in his bed. He was bathed in sweat, his heart racing and his breaths coming out in pants. He sat there for a moment, disoriented and confused. It had all felt so real, yet now he was back in his cold, empty room.

He raked a hand through his messy hair, raking his mind over the dream he had just had, searching for answers.

He couldn't shake the feeling of melancholy that had settled over him. He could still remember the way you had felt in his arms, the warmth of your touch and the sweet melody of your voice. He could still see your captivating smile and the sparkle in your eyes. But it was all just a dream.

He ran a hand over his face, feeling both physically and emotionally exhausted. He looked around at his room, which now seemed even more hollow without your presence. He let out a deep sigh, feeling more lonely and empty than ever.

It was clear he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep in the bed you once shared so he ambled back to the kitchen sleepily and grabbed one of the cookies you’d left in one hand, a bottle in the other, chugging it with no reaction to the sting.

Stumbling to the sofa and collapsing down, now with his system in overdrive, he couldn’t help but selfishly hope you’d come back and save him from falling deeper into oblivion.

But he knew you wouldn’t and most painfully of all, he knew that he deserved it.

You needed me but you needed drugs more and I couldn’t watch it happen

I changed into goddesses, villains, and fools

Changed plans and lovers and outfits and rules

All to outrun my desertion of you

And you just watched it

If you wanna break my cold, cold heart, just say “I loved you the way that you were”

If you wanna tear my world apart, just say you’ve always wondered

— Taylor Swift

[kennedy-brooke]

Dress

George Daniel x (Fem) Reader

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

heavily based on the song dress by taylor swift

Word Count: 9.9k

Part 2

a/n: hello lovely people. after many setbacks, my George Daniel fic is FINALLY here! shoutout to @imagine-that-100 and @alovesreading for making me finish it and helping me when i got stuck (i would have given up without the peer pressure support). There is a serious lack of George Daniel fiction, so here is my shot at fixing this problem. I got extremely carried away, and though it was originally meant to be a oneshot, THERE IS A PART 2!! so no worries, the good stuff is on the way and will be here @ 12 est on monday, august 21st ;)

You had been friends with George Daniel for ages, long before the band had gotten big. The pair of you had been through all of it together.

You had been there while his hair was flowing and damaged, and you had cried when he decided to buzz it off - while he simply held you and laughed at your reaction.

Just as he had been there for your mid-life crisis, when you decided bleaching your hair was the only way to get through it, and he looked right at you and lied to your face saying that it looked good.

You’ve always been the closest of friends - and fame has done little to change that fact - but when it comes to your dynamic duo, there has always been an undercurrent of something more.

While you’re just as close with the other boys, your relationship with George has always been different. Friends don't banter quite like the two of you. They don’t openly flirt like you do. They don’t share longing looks with one another, or take any opportunity to make physical contact with each other the way you two do. It wasn’t normal. You knew it, he knew it, hell, everyone knew it - they watched as the pair of you danced around the connection, the overwhelming and obvious chemistry, waiting to see who would finally make the first move.

You would balance precariously along the tightrope marking the barrier between friends and something else, something more, slowly tilting towards free falling into the unknown, before hastily shifting weight and falling back to the safety net of friendship. It was painful to watch - the boys individually giving the pair of you shit for the obvious harbored feelings - but it was never as painful as it was to experience.

Being as close as you were, you watched as George brought home girl after girl, trying your best to be the supportive friend you were while simultaneously trying to keep your own emotions in check. Nodding as he went on to Matty about his latest shag, telling Ross you were fine as he looked at you with concern written across his face.

It wasn’t as if the two of you were together. Why wouldn’t you be fine?

George sat back and watched as guys came up to buy you drinks at the bar that you’d happened to stop at. He scoffed and looked away as you threw your head back laughing at something the new guy said - it couldn’t be that funny - and Matty shot him a knowing look that screamed go do something about it.

He never did, though. He watched and watched, and when he had finally had enough, he found a distraction in someone else.

The game went on for years. An uncomfortable, tension-filled game that was by no means enjoyable for any party involved; but recently, there was something that had shifted.

Just before the boys left for “At Their Very Best,” you and George continued to be practically inseparable, but it wasn’t in the same way you had been before. Where your secret moments in a crowded room had been subtle and the touches fleeting (or so you both thought), they were now blatantly obvious.

You sat pressed against him, his arm around your shoulders holding you close. He stood behind you, arms around your waist, gazing at you while you rambled to Matty about some book you had just read. You leaned against the doorway to the studio, looking on as George messed with the tracks, unknowing to your watching eyes. You played with the rings on his fingers while he chatted with the boys, not letting go even after you finished fiddling with the metal. He placed his hand on your thigh, too high to be a friendly gesture, as he drove you to Matty’s place to meet up with the rest of the band.

The tension had continued to build, leading up to the party being thrown in celebration of the release of “Being Funny In a Foreign Language”. The night hadn’t gone to plan for either of you - rather it was thrown off course by a simple interruption and only proceeded to go downhill from there.

Everyone had been having a lovely time, really. Shots had been taken, more drinks had been poured, and you had found yourself on the settee watching as Matty approached.

“Where’s your loverboy?” Smirking, Matty sat himself next to you and threw his arm over your shoulder.

“Hello to you too, Ratty.” Rolling your eyes, you offered nothing in response to his antics, watching as he threw his hand over his chest in mock offense. “He’s in the kitchen, I think, and he’s not my ‘loverboy’, Matty. We’ve been over this.”

He gave you a knowing look. “Ah, but you knew exactly who I was talking about, didn’t you?”

You brought your glass of wine to your mouth, swallowing down the last of it and leveled him with a glare. “I need another drink.”

“Y/n, come on now! Don’t be like that - I was only messing.” He shook your shoulder a bit before drawing you into his side for a hug. “I was just wondering where our Georgie had disappeared to and figured you would have the answer, seeing as I haven’t seen the two of you apart for weeks.”

Sighing, you pouted and let yourself relax into Matty’s side hug. You knew he was right, if anyone was to know where George had gone off to, it would be you - and to be fair, you did know where he was - but you also knew that Matty’s comment wasn’t as innocent as he made it seem.

He was prying. They all had been, and it didn’t help that you had made the drunken mistake to confide in Matty one night a few months back.

He knew how you felt. How in denial you were about having feelings for your best friend. How you were too scared to do anything about it because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship. He knew you thought it was ridiculous and cliched, and he knew that you hated it - but he also knew that those feelings weren’t going away and that the recent clinginess between the both of you was only making those feelings more intense - whether you wanted to admit it or not.

“How’s all of that going, by the way?” Matty prodded, feeling a need to break the silence since you had yet to respond.

You rolled your eyes again, “I’m not sure what you mean, Matty, seeing as there isn’t anything going anywhere.”

“You know exactly what I mean, y/n/n. Neither of you are exactly subtle.” At that you cut your eyes at him, to which Matty just chuckled. “I’m not wrong, and you know it.”

“Well, nothing has happened and it’s probably not going to, so maybe you are.” You huffed and sank lower into your seat, staring at your wine glass as if it would refill itself if you looked at it long enough.

“I highly doubt that. I know George and he wouldn’t just be acting like that for the fun of it. And I know how you feel - you’ve told me as much yourself. What I still don’t understand is why neither of you have done anything about it, it’s simple enough.”

You look over at Matty exasperated, “Matty, I love you, but he’s my best friend and it’s really not that simple. You don’t know the half of it and I wish you’d all just leave it be.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant-”

“I know, Matty, and I appreciate it - but I’d like to enjoy myself tonight and not talk about my pathetic love life.” You smile tightly at him before looking at your empty glass once more and pushing yourself up from your seat. “I’m getting another drink.”

Matty doesn’t utter a word as you get up and make your way to the kitchen - smart man, you think.

Sighing, you make your way around the other party-goers, finding yourself deep in thought. You knew that he had good intentions. Matty can be a dick, but he has a kind heart and has always been a good friend to you.

The issue was that everyone keeps talking like they know exactly what the problem is and how you’re feeling about it, acting as if your situation has an easy fix - when in reality they know absolutely nothing about whatever is going on between the two of you.

George Daniel has been your best mate for ages, you weren’t about to mess all of it up because of some measly feelings. Even if that meant pining in silence, reminding yourself that it’s for the best, trying not to think about what it would be like to be with him in that way. To hug him, but not as a best friend. To spend time with him, but not as a best friend. To kiss-

No. You weren’t going there tonight. You were going to enjoy your time with the boys before they went on tour. There would be no daydreaming about George Daniel and his eyes… and lips… and hands… and-

God. You needed another drink.

Reaching the doorway to the kitchen, you looked in and saw George having a conversation with Ross, his back turned towards where you were standing. He seemed fully immersed in whatever he was talking about and was completely unaware of your presence in the kitchen.

It would be so easy to scare him right now, and just as the thought came to mind, you decided to do just that.

Quietly, you sat your glass down behind the coffee pot and began to slowly walk towards him. Glancing up, you made eye contact with Ross, who quirked his eyebrow upwards. You quickly placed your finger over your lips in response, signaling for him to stay quiet as you crept up slowly behind George.

Realizing what you were trying to do, Ross swiftly looked away from you and began talking to George again, trying to distract him so you could carry out your plan. Once you made it directly behind him, assuring you were completely out of sight, you waited for the perfect moment. And as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, you struck.

You quickly brought up your hands, spreading them open just to snap them closed on George’s waist, aggressively whacking him on either side of his body and letting out a loud yell, “AH!”

“Fucking HELL-” George jumped up in place, swiftly spinning around and fighting off your hands’ attack on his sides by flailing his free arm, the other being occupied by his drink. His face showed nothing short of utter bewilderment, stunned by the sudden attack. His eyebrows pulled down and his mouth gaped open and closed like a fish, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

His reaction, and the expression of shock on his face, sent you into a round of obnoxious laughter - to which Ross joined in on at the expense of his best mate.

“You little shit,” unimpressed, George glared at your laughing figure, bent over at the waist and trying to recompose yourself. “It’s honestly not that funny.”

“Oh, but G, it really was. Your face - absolutely priceless. I wouldn’t have thought your sides would have been so sensitive - you practically levitated off the ground.” Slowly catching your breath, you smiled up at him.

Ross, wanting to stir the pot, gave his own input. “He definitely did - should have seen his face when you got him. Swear I’ve never seen him jump so high.”

George, looking completely unamused, was less than impressed with you and Ross teaming up against him. “I did not. You startled me is all-” He turned to look you dead in the eyes before continuing “-and you’re one to talk. My sides are sensitive, hm? Mine?” George began to smirk and sat his drink next to Ross as he slowly started making his way over to you.

The mischievous glint in his eye was alarming, and you immediately started backing away. You knew what he was up to, and you weren’t about to simply stand there.

With every step he took forward, you took one back, desperately trying to get out of the hole you had just dug for yourself. He kept moving forward, and you kept moving backward - until your back hit the counter and there was nowhere for you to run. However, that didn’t deter George from moving closer still. He continued to walk toward where you were standing, pushing his way into your personal space and pressing you further against the counter.

He looked down at you and smirked, “What was it you said about sensitive sides?” and that's when he struck.

He quickly brought his hands up to your sides, giving you no time to react before he’s started aggressively tickling you. You squealed and burst out laughing, releasing a loud cackling sound that you had no control over.

“George- G wait- GEORGE STOP-'' Your laughter enveloped the kitchen, and caused George’s smirk to slowly turn into a genuine smile. “no NO STOP IT I'M SORRY”

Laughing along with you, George continued his attack. “What was that, darling? I don’t think I heard you- you’re sorry?”

“Stop - STOP YES IM SORRY - IM SORRY PLEASE. George- GEORGE PLEASE NO MORE.”

“See? Was that so hard?” George chuckled at you as you tried to catch your breath and he slowly stopped his attack on your sides.

You looked up at the tree of a man in front of you, trying to hide your smile as you gave him your best attempt at a glare. As soon as you made eye contact, though, your smile broke loose and you couldn’t help but release a half-giggle, half-chuckle at the man you had grown to adore.

The eye contact went unbroken, developing from a look of amusement to a sticky sort of fond look that continued to be passed between the two of you.

“That was nasty of you, G.” You narrowed your eyes at him, pushing on his chest and looking away for a brief moment before your eyes unconsciously drifted back to your best friend.

“I wouldn’t say that I’m the nasty one here, love. Don’t try to sneak up on me next time and you can avoid this mess.” Completely unphased by your light-hearted shove, George simply moved closer, placing his hands on the counter top by each side of your waist, effectively caging you in and bringing your bodies closer than they had been before.

“It was too good of an opportunity, G. I had to.”

The new distance, or rather the lack of such, sent a nervous, giddy feeling straight to your stomach. You and George had been dancing around the tension for weeks, waiting for the other to break - to finally make the first move - but nothing had happened yet and you were getting antsy.

There’s only so much flirting without any effect that you can take before you explode, and tour was starting up in the next week. He would be out of reach then - untouchable until the band was back home for a break. Their return would be months after they leave for tour, and the distance would provide you both with no consistent communication, what with time zones and work.

The pressure was laying heavily on the both of you and the close proximity was making your head fuzzy and your stomach turn - or maybe it was the wine you had been nursing all night - you weren’t sure anymore.

The renewed eye contact had become too much to handle, so you diverted your eyes downward and came face to face with George’s neck and chest. You couldn’t help but slowly drag your eyes across his frame, taking in his chiseled jawline and letting them roam down the expanse of his neck until they caught on an unfamiliar piece of jewelry hanging around it.

Reaching up, you softly slid your finger underneath the necklace and pinched it between your fingers to get a closer look at the piece. It was a simple chain - nothing outrageously large or bulky, but rather a thin, lightweight gold that laid nicely around his neck and had been neatly tucked beneath his shirt.

“Is this new?”

George hadn’t been paying a bit of attention. He was too focused on the smell of your perfume and the soft look that had taken over your features now that you had finally calmed down. You were beautiful. You always had been, but God, if you didn’t look unreal standing so close to him. He was intently committing your features to memory, as if he hadn’t already done so many times before, when you pulled him out of his daze.

“What?” He glanced down at your hands, now holding the thin chain and examining it. “Oh - that? yeah I just got it last week. Hadn’t found a chance to wear it yet, decided tonight was a good time. Do you like it?”

“Mhm, it’s nice.” You weren’t lying, it looked good on him - more than good - but you couldn’t help but tease him a bit. With the chain still between your fingers, you hooked your index finger beneath it and gave a quick tug, bringing his face closer to yours. “- think I could pull it off better, though.”

“Is that so?” George glanced at your face and found you looking at the gold necklace, a small smile gracing your face.

“Oh, definitely. I could pull it off way better than you do.” Your smile turning into a smirk, you tugged on the necklace a bit more, looking up at George to find his eyes trained on your own.

“Mmm, I’m sure you could.” His eyes flicked down to your lips, the smirk there morphing back into a smile, and he couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel like pressed against his own.

You had found yourself in a similar situation. You caught him looking at your lips, causing a flush to crawl up your neck. Later, if anyone asked, you would swear it was because of the wine, NOT because your best friend was looking at your lips like he was dying to explore them with his own.

On their own accord, your eyes had drifted downwards and were staring at his own lips. They had a small upturn to them, a content smile gracing his face as he continued to look at your own.

“Y/n -” It was barely there, a whisper of sorts that you wouldn’t have caught if you hadn’t been intently staring at his lips to see them part as he spoke your name.

With that one breath, everything stopped. You were no longer in the kitchen at a friend’s house, and it felt as if there was no one else around you for miles. It was just you and George sharing this one small moment.

Without noticing, you had both started leaning in. Your stomach started tumbling - was this going to be it? Finally, it was finally going to happen - fuck the consequences - and there was nothing that could stop it, nothing at all -

“Ahem-” Looking positively sheepish, Ross broke the bubble the two of you had created.

In all honesty, you had forgotten that Ross was even there and once broken out of your daze, you realized how close your faces had become. The two of you quickly jumped apart, eyes diverting to look at anything but each other.

“So sorry for interrupting, um, whatever that was -” and to be fair he did look distraught for having been the one to burst your bubble, “- but Matty has been calling George’s name for a bit now and i figured you wouldn’t want him to be the one to break you two apart.”

You and George both grimace. He’s right, you definitely did not want Matty witnessing whatever just happened.

“Plus, it was getting a bit uncomfortable just standing there in silence while that played out.”

You stood there blinking, still trying to come back from your previous daze - which caused George to be the first to respond.

He looks panicked and more than a little distressed. “No- Yeah- I mean no, it’s alright. I- um I should go see what he needs.” And without sparing you another glance, George grabs his drink and walks away.

You watch him walk out of the room, your mouth hung open in disbelief. You had almost kissed. You and George had almost kissed and he just walked away. What the fuck just happened?

“Y/n, listen- I’m sorry for-”

“What? Oh, no it’s um- it’s alright, no worries- Have you, um, have you seen my glass? I don’t, uh, I don’t know where I set it.” You were beyond flustered, and a bit upset. George walked off and it all hit you at once.

You were in love with George Daniel, you had almost kissed him, and now everything was all sorts of messed up. You were absolutely screwed.

Ross, not knowing how to make any of this better and wanting to kick himself for interrupting the moment, just stood there and watched as you flitted about the kitchen - mumbling about where you may have set your glass.

After spending a few minutes half-heartedly looking for your glass, you stop and sigh. “You know, what? Fuck it.” And with that, you walk over to grab the full wine bottle sitting on the countertop next to Ross and hurry your way out of the kitchen to find somewhere else to drown your sorrows. So much for enjoying the night.

Helpless, Ross watches you with wide eyes, before looking around to see if anyone else had just seen that. He makes a mental note to check on you later to make sure you were okay, before walking out of the kitchen in the opposite direction - deciding to give you some time to process what just happened.

In the living room, the party was still in full swing and after being roped into a conversation with Adam and Carly, Ross had forgotten about checking in on you.

Almost an hour had passed, and Matty had yet to see you come back from the kitchen. He looked around the room once more, scanning the many faces to see if he recognized yours amongst them. When his eyes found George across the room and didn’t see you anywhere near him, he excused himself from the conversation and set off to find where you had gone to.

After searching the outside patio, the kitchen, one hallway closet, and two bedrooms, you were still nowhere to be found. Matty had absolutely no idea as to where you could be and was growing more worried by the second. He knew you could take care of yourself, and he knew you could hold your liquor - but if he wasn’t mistaken, you had been drinking red wine tonight and you tended to get yourself into unfortunate situations when red wine was added to the equation.

He began walking back down the hall, passing the bathroom before an idea came to mind. Backtracking, he went back to the closed door and knocked twice, calling out to see if anyone was inside. “Hello? Anyone in here?”

When there was no response, Matty tried the door knob and found it unlocked. He opened the door and stuck his face inside, glancing around the bathroom and finding it to be empty. He sighed and was about to leave the bathroom once more when he heard a scuffle come from the shower and -

“Shit.”

Matty stopped in his tracks at the all too familiar voice and pushed the door completely open. He slowly walked over to the shower, before grabbing the curtain and quickly pulling it back only to find your figure awkwardly curled in the bathtub, clutching a mostly-empty wine bottle.

“Um, hi?” You looked up at Matty with a guilty look on your face, giving your best attempt at a smile - one that was none too convincing based on Matty’s responding grimace.

“The fuck are you doing?” Matty looked at you expectantly, glancing from the wine bottle and back to your face.

“Well- you see… I don’t, uh, I don’t know. It was just so calm and quiet, Matty. And the wine was making me just a little dizzy and so was George and - Oh god, George - Matty I really want George but I think I just fucked it all up - oh god. ” You started rambling, your words beginning to slur together into a whine - and if Matty didn’t already think you were drunk when he first saw the bottle in your hands, he was sure of it now.

“Christ, Y/n - how much of that have you had to drink?”

“Only -” You brought up your free hand and pinched your index finger and thumb together, leaving a tiny space between them and squinting to look through it, “- thiiiis much.”

Matty sighed for what felt like the millionth time that night. Since when did he become the responsible one between the two of you.

He walked back to the door, shutting it behind him, before turning back around and sitting down next to the tub. “What happened, love?”

“Oh, nothing really - I just scared George in the kitchen and he tickled me and then we almost kissed but Ross interrupted and then G all but ran out of the room and i couldn’t find my glass and I really needed a drink and so i just grabbed the whole bottle and wanted to go somewhere quiet and so i came in here just in case I had to pee and i ended up in the shower and i can’t stop thinking about George an-”

“Fucks sake, Y/n. Take a breath for me.” You had started talking a mile a minute, gesturing your hands while still holding the bottle of wine and somehow managing to spill some of it down the side of the bathtub.

“Ah, shit. I’ve gone and spilt it again.”

Matty was staring at you with wide eyes, trying and failing to hide his shock. He hadn’t a clue what was going on and was sure this would be a shit-ton to unpackage later - but he’d already had a few drinks and there was no way he was processing any of this tonight.

And you - you were completely plastered and doing a poor job at hiding it. Not that Matty could blame you after everything that had just tumbled from your lips. He watched as you tried to clean up the mess you had made with the corner of your shirt before huffing and letting your head fall back harshly against the shower wall.

The contact made a loud thump, making both Matty and yourself wince. “Y/n, love, are you okay?”

You gave a short, empty chuckle in response and leveled him with a deadpan look. “Oh, I’m just lovely, Matthew. Thank you so much for asking.” You sigh again, lifting your head just to let it fall once more as you groan.

Reaching out for you, Matty stopped you as you went to lift your head. “Okay- maybe don’t be doing that again. Do you need anything? Want me to get you something? Some water maybe?”

“Can you get George for me pretty please?” You closed your eyes, opening them back up when Matty had yet to respond.

He was searching your face, trying to see if getting George was the best idea.

“Matty, please? I’m not gunna do anything stupid, ‘promise.” You gave him a dopey-looking drunk smile, and held up your pinky trying to convince him.

“But-”

“Just because I’m in love with him doesn’t mean I can’t act normal after a few drinks. Please? He’s my ride home.”

Matty’s eyes widen, not expecting that to come out of your mouth. You had never explicitly said how you felt about George before, only that your feelings for him went past platonic and that you were too scared to act on them. It didn’t seem like you were aware of what you had just said, though, so Matty decided to let it slide and store it away for a later time (along with everything else that had happened that night).

He sighed, yet again. “Yeah, okay. I’ll - I’ll go get him, but I need you to stay here, alright?”

Nodding sluggishly, you watched as Matty stood himself up and went to leave the bathroom - assuming he was going to find George.

Once Matty had left and shut the door behind him, you - carefully this time - laid your head back to rest against the wall and closed your eyes. The room had started to tilt and your stomach had started to turn; but you’d be damned if you threw up now.

You had overdone it with the wine, you knew that already, but who could really blame you? After almost kissing the man you were oh-so-unfortunately in love with (who also happened to be your oldest and closest friend) and having him practically sprint out of the room to get away from you, you figured you were entitled to get just a little drunk.

To be fair, you were much more than a little drunk - having downed the majority of the bottle of wine that was full once upon a time - but you needed to not think for a moment.

You didn’t want to think about George’s hands at your sides, or his arms caging you against the counter. You didn’t want to think about how he looked at you so fondly before staring directly, and not-so-subtly, at your lips. You didn’t want to think about his broad shoulders and chest, or that stupidly attractive gold chain necklace that was hanging so beautifully around his neck. You didn’t want to - yet here you were thinking about it anyway.

At this point, your head had started to pound. God, how much had you drank for your head to already be hurting before the hangover had even started? You went to open your eyes, but the lights were blinding and you immediately shut them again.

With the room silent and your eyes closed, you took a moment to look over your night.

You weren’t sure why you had almost kissed him, but you could have sworn he wanted it to happen too. It couldn’t have been all in your head - you were delusional at times, but that was too cruel even for your own mind. That didn’t explain why he had bolted, though. Maybe he was embarrassed to have wanted to kiss you, or maybe he was drunk and thought you were someone else.

The night had become a disaster, and you prayed everyone else was at least having a good time. You had come tonight so you could enjoy some time with your friends before they left on tour, not so you could wallow in self pity over the fact that you wanted your best friend in a completely non-platonic way. How you had managed to get to the point where you were spilling wine in a bathtub was beyond you, however one thing had become extremely clear tonight: you weren’t sure how much longer you would be able to hide these ridiculous feelings before you quite literally exploded into 1,975 tiny little pieces.

You huffed and brought your arm up to rest it over your eyes. This train of thought wasn’t helping your mood one bit. If anything, it just made you want to cry, but you were far too wasted to push yourself off the path of self-destruction.

When you heard the bathroom door open, you didn’t move an inch and kept your eyes closed, assuming it was just Matty again.

“Matty, I really just want George,” you mumbled into your arm that was still draped over your face, while the other hand brought the wine bottle closer to your chest.

“You have me, Darling. I’m right here.”

Your eyes shot open at the familiar voice that most definitely did not belong to Matty Healy, only to find your best friend leaning against the door frame.

“Georgieee-” And by that nickname alone, George knew you were extremely drunk.

Matty had warned him of your state, briefly telling him that you were far from sober - but he hadn’t said it was this bad. You only ever use that name when you’re wasted, it was G or George otherwise

“Hello, Darling.” Your insides turned to mush at the name, physically sinking further into the bathtub and whining.

“Oh God, don’t do that.” You drug your hand down your face, as if you could wipe away the alcohol’s effect. You had no control of what was coming out of your mouth right now, and you probably wouldn’t remember most of this by morning. It was a recipe for disaster and you swore his presence was only making you feel more drunk.

“What- do what?” George looked at you with genuine confusion. Had he done something?

“Do that thing. Y’know - with your eyes and your voice and the ‘Darling’.” you dropped your voice as low as you could at the word ‘darling’, mocking his voice before proceeding to groan loudly. “ugh- that thing that makes me really want you and your attention.”

George chuckled at your words, looking down at you with that same sticky sort of fond look that made you want to melt under his gaze. “You have me, love. I’m paying attention - promise.”

You groaned again, “No - Stooppp.” You immediately looked away from his face and threw your hand over your eyes.

Laughing at your childish actions, George reached over to pry your hand away from your face, smiling as you gave in almost immediately. “Stop what? I’m giving you what you wanted right? You wanted me and my attention - so here I am.”

Apparently you had become one to make many noises tonight, because you simply whined in response, weakly trying to pull your hand from George’s grasp. “No- George you don’t get it. I don’t want it like that. I don’t want you like a best friend.”

At that, he let go of your hand and stared. You obviously hadn’t registered your words, too drunk to realize what you had accidentally let slip, and George didn’t know how to react. He had a gut feeling that you had gotten this plastered because of him, and with it came an unwelcome feeling of guilt.

Of course he wanted to kiss you back in the kitchen, he would be a fool to have wanted otherwise. But he was drunk and you were his best friend. Just because he wanted to kiss you then and there didn’t mean he had the right to ruin your friendship over some complicated feelings.

He doubted you knew what you were saying, anyways. You were drunk. It didn’t mean anything.

“Alright, Y/n. Let’s get you home.”

Sighing and pouting slightly, you reached both arms outwards and made grabbing motions with your hands, signaling for George to help you up. George huffed out a laugh at your actions before grabbing your hands and pulling upwards to get you in a standing position.

Once standing upright, you started feeling dizzy and began to wobble on your feet. Yeah, you had definitely had too much to drink.

Reaching back out to stabilize you, George lightly held both of your hips. “Woah, there Y/n/n. You alright? Can you stand by yourself?”

As soon as the question left his mouth, you felt the room spin and you immediately started to shake your head. “Um nope - no, definitely not.”

George looked at you and sighed. “Okay then, hold on.” And with that, he bent down, placing one arm behind your back and the other behind your knees, before lifting you up bridal style and bringing you into his chest.

You gasped, bringing your arms up and around George’s neck. “What are you doing, I’m fine-”

“Y/n. No you're not, you can barely stand, much less walk. So I'm carrying you outside to get a taxi, and you are going to let me.”

You balked at him for a moment before responding, “yes sir!” and giving him a quick salute. You placed your arm back around his neck as he began walking out of the bathroom and through the house.

You barely registered his good-bye’s as he quickly made his way through the now small crowd of people. How long had you been in that bathroom?

As if he had read your thoughts, “You were in there for a while, most of them already headed home. Mainly just the boys left now.”

You nodded your head as George stepped outside, walking to the road where a taxi was already waiting on the two of you. He set you down, helping you maneuver your way into the car before sliding in next to you.

As soon as he shut the door behind him, you sluggishly slid over to sit in the middle seat and rested your head on George’s shoulder. You twisted, dragging your eyes to look at him, when they caught on his gold necklace again.

You slowly brought your hand up and started messing with the chain. “‘Really like your necklace, G,” you mumbled sleepily into his shoulder. “Think I want one for me, too.”

You glanced up at your best friend - giving him a small, tired smile - and found him already looking down at you.

The eye contact was soft, lacking the heat and tension that was present earlier in the night. George watched as you tried to hold it, but ultimately failed as you grew too tired to keep your eyes open any longer.

That’s how you fell asleep, with your head lying on your best friend’s shoulder and your hand on his chest, lightly gripping his gold necklace.

You vaguely remember being woken up so that George could help you into your flat and being led to your room where you quickly stripped out of your clothes and put on a t-shirt from the top of your drawer before climbing in the bed.

By the time your head hit the pillow, you had already started dozing off again; but you could have sworn you felt your hair being tucked behind your ear and a kiss being pressed to your face.

A soft, “Goodnight, Darling” was the last thing you heard before succumbing to a deep, alcohol-induced sleep.

• • •

When you woke the next afternoon, it was with a horrendous headache and no recollection of what had happened after you ran from the kitchen with a full bottle of wine.

Groaning, you had rolled over to look at the clock when you felt an unfamiliar weight around your neck. You brought your hand to the hollow of your neck, grabbing at the weight and lifting it far enough away from your chest to catch a glimpse at the item. What you saw made your breath hitch as you brought your other hand up to cover your mouth.

It was George’s gold chain necklace.

You checked your phone, finding one notification from George himself:

Don’t be mad - you kept saying how much you liked it, so I just left it with you.

I can always get another one

You softly smiled, thumbing at the gold now lying around your neck. You were absolutely, positively smitten with your best friend, and you hadn’t a clue what you were going to do about it.

That was two months ago, and while you wish you could say that you gathered the courage to make a move before the boys left for tour, you hadn’t been given the chance. Things had gotten busy for you at work and the lads had been preoccupied with tour preparations, leaving you all with no time to get together or speak before they were heading off to the states.

You had exchanged a few messages with them, of course, and you had tried to call when time and work allowed, but it wasn’t quite the same. You missed your friends. You missed George.

The two of you had messaged each other almost daily, however you never seemed to be able to catch each other at the right time - narrowly missing his messages and calls by mere minutes and then being unable to reach him again afterwards.

His gold necklace had found a permanent place around your neck, you rarely took it off - your friends joking that it may as well be a tattoo permanently etched into your skin - but it had become a comforting presence in the absence of George.

When you missed George - which was almost constantly - or when things became a bit much, you would find yourself gripping the necklace, rubbing the gold chain in search of comfort. It was nowhere near the level of comfort George himself brought you, but it did well enough.

You werent, however, moping about just because George was gone. You were a proud, strong, independent woman, and you could function perfectly fine without him. This wasn’t his first tour, and you weren’t new to the overall lack of George. Your world didn’t revolve around him - you had a job and a life outside of the boys - but that also didn’t mean you didn’t miss your closest friends when they went away.

You were fine, honestly, but sometimes you simply wanted to chat with the boys about nonsense or complain about your days like you often did when they were home. On their previous tours, you had been able to still talk to them - but your new job had made it almost impossible and you were struggling.

However, it was the barely missed messages from George that made this tour more difficult than the rest.

It was the simple “Miss you, Darling &lt;3” text that made you unbelievably giddy and the quick voice messages he would leave when you inevitably missed his call - each starting with a “Hello, Darling” and ending with “Love you, Darling. Talk to you soon.”

It was two long months of poor communication and getting flustered by the smallest bits of attention you would get from him. You had missed him before, but the longing that came with his absence this time was different and you were acutely aware of it.

You would tear up watching the clips from the end of their latest show as they bowed to the crowd, George wrapping Matty in one of his hugs that you desperately craved. Your stomach would turn, imagining him out at some club with a girl that wasn’t you, hugging a girl who wasn’t you, kissing a girl that was not you.

It was envy. It was jealousy. It was longing and wanting. You were in love with him, that much you had come to terms with, but it was two weeks before they were due back home that you came to the gut-wrenching conclusion that you weren’t okay with not trying something.

You decided that you couldn’t sit back and watch anymore - you were going to make him realize that you were a fucking catch. You were a fucking catch and you had been there the whole time, through thick and thin, for worse or for better, and you fucking loved him.

When you got a message from George, one inviting you out once they got back, you jumped at the opportunity.They were wanting to get a group together - you, the band, and some other close mutual friends - to go out for a night of fun a few days after Christmas and you were practically buzzing at the thought.

You hadn’t had a proper night out since before the lads had left for tour, and paired with the prospect of seeing your best friends again after months apart, your nerves were completely shot.

Never before had you been nervous to see the boys. You’d known them for years, and you were sure that it was mostly excitement that was keeping you awake at night, but there was still that small bit of anxiety that crept in when you thought about seeing George.

You were so happy to be seeing him again - but now that you were aware of how you felt about him, you were worried that things would change for the worse. What if you were awkward? What if you got flustered and embarrassed yourself? What if those messages were just to his best friend and you had been reading too far into them? What if you put yourself out there to be rejected?

You were spiraling. Why were you spiraling? It’s just George. Your George, your best friend. You were completely overthinking all of it. It wasn’t like you were going to confess your undying love the first time you see him after months. It would be fine - so long as you didn’t freak yourself out. It’s a get together with a bunch of friends, not the end of the world.

Even so, you couldn’t help but feel a bit of pressure to at least look your best. It wasn’t a need to impress anyone, honestly. You just wanted to get dressed up, to look nice after wearing the same boring clothes every day for work - and this outing just happened to give you that opportunity. George being there was just a happy coincidence.

Plus, it finally gave you a reason to wear the new dress you had bought.

You hadn’t intended to buy anything while you were out last week, you just wanted to get out of the house and do something not work related. But then you saw it through the window and you knew you had to at least try it on.

The dress was a far cry from your usual getup - not one for dresses and frilly things - but something about it was calling to you.

It was a simple, silky black dress with a deep v-cut in the neck that perfectly displayed your breasts. The top of the dress was lined with gold and the straps came up and around your neck before zig-zagging down your back and lacing up the dress, forgoing the struggle of any zippers. There were two meticulously placed slits above each knee, giving a clear view of the sides of your thighs and allowing for movement in the fitting material.

It was gorgeous, and you felt powerful in it. The way it emphasized your curves in all the right places, molding to your body and showing off all of your assets had you head over heels for the dress. Overall it was a relatively plain dress- but it fit you so well that it looked like it was intricately made just for you.

And maybe you had George on your mind when you tried it on, maybe you saw an image of it lying on the ground after he had taken it off of you. It wasn’t exactly the worst thought.

And so you bought it. You had no clue when you planned to wear it, you just knew you had to have it - in hopes that maybe, just maybe, that fantasy could come to life.

When George invited you out, you decided it was the perfect opportunity to wear it. So you put on the dress, along with a pair of heels that lace up your legs, and left your flat feeling more confident than you had in months.

All of which brought you to where you are now, at a table in the corner of the club, clutching your drink and watching on as George chats up some girl at the bar.

You watch as she places her hand on his bicep before laughing a little too enthusiastically at whatever it was George had been saying.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think they were getting on just fine and that George was going to have a successful pull tonight; but you do know better.

You see how his eyes go wide when she looks away for a moment, removing her hand from him to grab her drink. The way he looks at her like she's grown two heads and is likely thinking what the fuck is going on.

And when she places her hand back on his arm, you see how he tenses ever so slightly and doesn’t seem to relax.

The sight makes you grip your glass tighter. Any confidence you had when you left the flat had all but disappeared once you caught sight of your best friend. You had been so excited to see him, you didn’t stop to think about whether he would be preoccupied with someone else.

Someone else who is so conventionally pretty that you feel like your dress pales in comparison - even if George seems uncomfortable with all the attention she keeps trying to smother him with.

“If you grip that glass any tighter I think you might break it.”

The unexpected but familiar voice breaks you out of your sulking, if only for a moment, as you sigh before glancing at the man who was now cockily leaning against the post next to your table.

You look him up and down before sighing, “Matthew.”

His response is immediate, “Y/n.”

“To what do I owe the displeasure?”

Matty gasps, throwing his hand over his heart in mock offense and looking at you with wide eyes that show the amusement and mischief dancing in them.

“Now, y/n/n, is that any way to greet your dear friend after two long months apart?”

You shoot him an unamused look in response.

Matty, however, ignores you and continues on. “I couldn’t help but notice your brooding and decided that I’d come save the glass from imminent destruction.”

You roll your eyes and put as much sarcasm as possible into your response. “Wow, Ratty- you’re a true comedian.”

He simply smirks at your tone. “What can I say? I’m a natural.”

You huff out a laugh, unable to stop yourself. You had to admit, you’d missed having him around - regardless of how insufferable he could be.

Matty had a tendency to be so obnoxious that it easily took your mind off of whatever you were originally thinking about, and you knew he acted this way with that exact purpose in mind.

Coming up next to you, Matty smiles as he reaches his arm around your shoulders for a side hug and gives you a shake. “Oh, didn’t you just miss me so much?”

You give a good laugh at that before turning to look him in the eyes and giving him a deadpan look, saying, “Oh, yes. So much, Matty. Not sure how I survived these two, absolutely horrible, months apart.” with the most sarcasm you could muster.

Matty lets out a loud cackle and pulls you closer. “Oh, how I've missed your cheery self.” You can't help but smile at him. “How’ve you been, Y/n/n?”

You shrug, "Alright, yeah. How've you been? How was tour?"

And that question alone sends Matty into a long winded explanation of what they had gotten into during tour and what it was like this time around.

It was somewhere between his description of their Madison Square Garden show and the afterparty that you stopped listening.

It wasn't on purpose by any means, you truly did want to hear about how everything went this time around, but you were distracted.

Distracted because George was still talking to that girl - more like she was talking to him and he was being forced to listen - and he looked like he was growing more uncomfortable by the second. Couldn't she see that he wasn't interested?

Matty was still talking as you continued to watch them interact. You watch her say something and see George's eyes go comically wide as he looks around to see if anyone else was seeing this - or maybe he was looking for an escape.

You see her go to grab his hand and watch as he swiftly moves both hands

away to clutch at his drink. She seems to only pause for a moment before she decides to place her hand on his thigh. His thigh. And you see the way George stiffens under her touch, making you tense up yourself.

"You really might break that glass if you don't let go - that or you're going to burn a hole into that poor girl's head with all your staring."

You jump a little at Matty's sudden comment, not expecting him to direct the conversation towards you again. You look down at your glass, finally realizing that you had, in fact, been gripping the glass so hard that your knuckles had begun to turn white - and you immediately let go.

Looking back at Matty, you see both amusement and sympathy in his eyes, making you let out a scoff. 

"Don't know what you're going on about, Matty - what was it you were saying about the afterparty?"

Matty chuckles at your poor attempt at changing the topic, he wasn't letting it slide this time. "Oh don't go pretending like you were listening, Y/n/n. I moved on from the Garden afterparty a good bit ago, you just weren't paying attention.

You make an indignant sound at that. "That's not true, I-"

"Don't even try, love," Matty smirks at you before glancing over at George and patting your shoulder. "No worries, you were distracted - understandably so, he looks a bit cozy doesn't he?"

You scoff immediately. “No, he does not.”

Matty grins at you, “Oh?”

“He looks ridiculously uncomfortable right now, just look at him,” gesturing your arm over in George’s direction.

Matty directs his attention to his best mate, watching as the girl bats her eyelashes and lays her hand on George’s arm. He sees the way George tenses under her touch and the way his eyes widen to whatever she’s just said. 

“That’s the fifth time she’s tried to touch him, and he basically freezes every time.” You huff. 

“Five times, huh? You keeping count, y/n/n?” Matty turns to head to look at you, entertained by your mood.

You make an indignant noise at his words, “What? No- I- I'm just being a good friend is all.”

Matty nods his head exaggeratedly in false agreement, turning back to watch George. “Right, yes- a good friend… that you happen to be in love with.” Your jaw drops. “Definitely not jealousy.”

“How did you-”

He cuts you off, “Did you know, Y/n -” he briefly glances your way, “that red wine makes you rather talkative?”

You let out a loud groan, placing your head in your hands. 

Matty chuckles at your reaction, “Easy now, it’s alright- we already knew as much.”

“We? Oh my god, does George-” Your head shoots up in time to see Matty shaking his head. 

“No, you didn’t tell him and he doesn’t know - at least not unless you told him once we left you alone.”

You let out a sigh of relief, slumping into your seat and placing your head back into your hands. Being drunk wasn’t the way you wanted to tell George how you felt. 

Honestly, you had hoped to do it tonight, but any confidence you had to address the situation has long since disappeared. 

You keep your face in one hand while the other subconsciously starts fiddling with the necklace around your neck, thankful for its presence and the comfort it offers.

“He does look like he’s having an awful time doesn’t he?”

Matty’s words break you out of your head, and you look up to see George with his head thrown back and staring at the ceiling as if he was wishing for it to swallow him whole, paying absolutely no attention to whatever it is that the girl happens to be saying.

“It’s actually painful to watch.” You shake your head at the scene.

“If it’s so painful, why don’t you walk your perky self over there and help him?”

You turn to look at Matty, giving him a glare for his choice of wording. He really thinks he’s funny, doesn’t he?

To be honest, you aren’t sure why you hadn’t gone over there to help him yet. You’d been debating it for a bit now, and there’s every reason to go over there and get him out of the mess he’s found himself in - but there was something still holding you back. 

You sigh, “I don’t know, Matty.”

Matty purses his lips and looks back at the bar as his phone buzzes in his pocket. 

“Not sure what you think could go wrong - he’s definitely not enjoying himself.”

He makes no move to get it, even as it buzzes a few more times. You open your mouth to snarkily respond to his comment, but the short spaces of silence turn into a long, consistent buzzing sound - completely cutting you off.

The sound is beyond irritating, even more so because Matty still chooses to ignore the vibrations in his pocket. “For fucks sake, Matty. Will you answer your damn phone? At least silence it if you aren’t going to respond.”

“I’m sorry, is it bothering you, y/n/n?” Matty gives you a cheeky smile, to which you stare back unamused, as he finally reaches into his pocket.

He pulls his phone out and unlocks it with every intention of just turning off his phone for a bit - that is, until he sees who the messages are from. He pauses to read the incoming texts and lets out a loud chuckle.

“Well then, y/n. I’d consider this a sign if I ever saw one.”

You look at him confused. “What- What are you going on about?”

He simply glances up from his phone smirking and says, “Looks like your loverboy needs saving.” 

He turns the phone around to show you his phone screen where you see 23 messages from George, and you watch as one more comes through that makes you let out a breathy laugh.

Help

Mate seriously

Get me a glass of milk

Asap

Milk me, seriously

Help

Now

Please

At this point come throw a glass of milk on me

So she will fucking fuck the fuck  o f f

Matty I’m spamming you for a reason

I know you’re laughing

Stop it

Can you actually be a good mate for once please

Matty

Matt

MATTHEW

You fuckhead why don’t you have your phone on you

THIS IS WHY HANN IS BETTER THAN YOU. 

I need you to

HELP ME NOW

Cunt. just now

You read over his messages, laughing at the panic that you can practically feel emanating through the phone. “Oh you are absolutely gonna hear it later.”

“Yeah, yeah - I’m very much aware. It’ll be fine, he’s going to like my solution better anyways.” You’re still chuckling at George’s messages and you look back at Matty as he speaks, pulling his phone back. 

“What?” You watch as he quickly types something out, pressing send and putting his phone away. 

You’re still staring at him in confusion while he looks at you expectantly. “Well?” He huffs, “Why are you still sitting here? She’s on your man.”

And you don't have time to overthink what it is that you’re about to do before you stand up.

• • •

Part 2

a/n: Okay, that's it for part 1 of 2 - up next is the fun part and my personal favourite half of the story. I hope you guys enjoyed!! see you same time next week <3 xoxo - K

[amhrosina]

Afterglow (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Masterlist // Join My Taglist

a/n: another taylor swift song fic lmfao i just cannot help myself, this one is so angsty i almost felt bad for Matt just writing it (someone pls give that man a hug, he NEEDS one) also i feel so bad about not posting that i didnt even send this one to my beta reader i just posted it and hoped for the best lmfao

Summary: Matt and Reader have an argument that feels like it might be relationship-ending after Matt's hectic lifestyle as Daredevil catches up with him.

warnings: ANGST BRO SO MUCH ANGST, matty really just deserves the world, angry matt at the beginning, soft matt and foggy convo, matt doesn't know how to accept love, super soft matt at the end, some religious imagery i guess, happy ending

-

I blew things out of proportion, now you're blue

Put you in jail for something you didn’t do

I pinned your hands behind your back, oh

Thought I had reason to attack, but no

Fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves

Chemistry 'til it blows up, 'til there’s no us

Why'd I have to break what I love so much?

It's on your face, and I'm to blame, I need to say

The door slammed behind Matt in a fitful rage, and he was so pissed off, so intense in his anger that he wanted to turn around and slam it again, just to lash out a second time. It was so unlike him to be this way, so unlike him to allow the festering wound that was his soul show itself so plainly, but it had been a long night, long year, long life and he was fucking tired.

And you. You. You. You. You’d been caught in the crossfire. 

“Fuck.” Matt breathed, already regretting the argument that he’d started simply because he hadn’t been able to reel the Devil back in after a long night. The tight leash he held on the part of him that he hated, the part of him that you’d never seen because he’d hidden it so deep inside himself every night, was a ghost in his hands. The line between Matthew the person and Daredevil the vigilante had been blurring for months, but tonight was the first time he’d let it slip through the careful facade he’d been constructing around himself. He was a shattered window, ready to break at the slightest bit of pressure. 

The cold sliced into Matt’s skin as he stepped through the doorway at the front of his building, a sobering chill of wind that triggered the memory of your eyes welling with tears. He’d been relentless in his anger, and what for? Because he had a bad night? Because he couldn’t save everyone, and somehow that was your fault? 

Asshole is the word you’re looking for, Matthew.

Matt groaned and pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing Foggy’s number before he could talk himself out of it.

“It’s three in the morning, Matt.” Foggy said by way of greeting, voice still heavy with sleep. “You’re not somewhere dying are you?”

“Only metaphorically.” Matt replied, shuffling his feet. He lowered himself to sit on the stairs beneath him, huffing as his body settled against the concrete. The metal of the railing dug into his temple as he rested his head against it, an uncomfortable reminder that the only person to blame for this was himself.

“You okay?” Foggy’s tone had shifted from a sleepy annoyance to somewhat concerned. 

Matt closed his eyes. He didn’t deserve the love he received from his friends.

“I’m-” He started, but cut himself off when he realized he had no idea what he was going to say. Was he okay? No, he didn’t think so. 

“You’re kinda freaking me out here, man.”

“I fucked up, Foggy.” He deflated as he admitted it.

“With her?” Foggy pressed.

“With her. With everything.” Matt shrugged, blinking away the tears burning the back of his eyes. Your sudden return to his thoughts felt like whiplash, and he couldn’t catch his breath. “She deserves better than me.”

“Matt,” Foggy chided, and Matt could tell he was shaking his head, “Don’t say that. She loves you.” 

“Maybe not anymore.” Matt knew how ridiculous and juvenile he sounded, but the Matthew-Murdock-party-of-one pity party was in full effect, and he was leaning into the sad corner of his being so aggressively he couldn’t stop himself from saying it.

“She loves you.” Foggy repeated. “I don’t think anything could change that. What happened?”

“I had a bad night and yelled at her. It was stupid and I feel like an ass-”

“An asshole.” Foggy finished, and Matt couldn’t stop the chuckle that followed this observation. “Listen, did you tell her any of this?”

“Not yet.” The longer Matt sat, the more he hated himself for leaving. The words he had shouted echoed in his mind. “She should just leave. I’m never going to be able to give her what she deserves.”

“What about what you deserve, Matt?” Foggy asked, heated in the defense of his very best friend, “You deserve to be loved, too.”

Matt sat with Foggy’s statement for a second, letting the love wash over him for the briefest moment. Is this what it’s like for the kind of people who can easily accept the love of others? His body felt warm and fuzzy, an unfamiliar but comforting sensation that had him rubbing the heel of his hand across his chest.

“I should go apologize and hope to God she’ll take me back.” Matt sighed.

“She will, Matt.” Foggy assured him. “She will.”

Matt returned the phone to his pocket and turned, heading back into the place that held his entire aching heart.

It's so excruciating to see you low

Just wanna lift you up and not let you go

This ultraviolet morning light below

Tells me this love is worth the fight, oh

I lived like an island, punished you with silence

Went off like sirens, just crying

Why'd I have to break what I love so much?

It’s on your face, don't walk away, I need to say

Hey, it's all me, in my head

I'm the one who burned us down

But it's not what I meant

Sorry that I hurt you

When Matt reentered the apartment, it had only been twenty minutes since he’d stormed out, but it had felt like hours. You were in the same place that he’d left you - curled up in a sitting position on the sofa - except now your cheeks were coated with salty tears that permeated the air around you. Matt tasted them on his tongue the second he opened the door, a twinge of pain shooting through his chest as he realized just how bad the situation was. You were so deep in thought, cycling through the words Matt had spat at you, that you hadn’t noticed his arrival.

“Petal?” Matt called softly, alerting you to his presence in the room. You startled, turning to look in his direction. The silence before you responded was deafening and anxiety inducing, something Matt had never handled well. He wrung his hands together and took a step closer to you. Finally, you spoke.

“You came back.”

Not a question, but not really a statement either. A simple observation that left Matt stumbling over his words. 

“I uh…never really left. I was just downstairs.” He scratched the back of his neck. “On the steps out front. I didn’t go far.”

“I thought you weren’t coming back.”

Matt’s lip wobbled as he inhaled sharply and asked, “Do you want me to go?”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that question. He listened to your answer anyway. He would listen to any words you had to offer, even if they were words that might kill him.

“You said some terrible things, Matt.” You sniffled, sighing heavily as another wave of tears coated your cheeks. “You said ‘If you can’t handle this, I don’t think we should be together anymore.’ And the funny thing is, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be handling.”

“Petal, I-” Matt began, shaking his head.

“No, Matt.” Your voice had suddenly become very firm and very loud, all at once. Matt flinched. “I’m not finished.” You adjusted your body, leaning your head back against the sofa before continuing. “I don’t know who you are anymore. My Matty would never keep things from me or disappear for days at a time or yell at me. The man I fell in love with is missing, and I don’t know what to do to get him back.”

The hold Matt had on his tears was obliterated as you admitted your feelings to him. Warm tears fell down his face, every droplet an admission of guilt. You were right, of course. Matt hadn’t felt like himself in months, and instead of trying to get a grip on himself, he had been leaning into the suit every night, forcing his mind to focus on other things. He always took on the brunt of the pain in any situation - he’d been doing this his entire life - but he had not realized how much of that pain was being transferred to you every time he forgot himself.

“Baby, I’m- I can’t even say how sorry I am.” Matt sank to his knees in front of you, pleading. “You’re right about everything, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be good enough for you or come home to you after work like a normal boyfriend would and I’m sorry for the things I said. I never wanted to hurt you the way I did. I will never, ever, deserve your love.” He swallowed a sob as he admitted what he thought was the truest thing he’d ever said out loud. “Foggy told me I deserve love but I’ve thought and thought about it and I can’t imagine a world where your love will ever feel like anything but a gift to me.”

You sighed again, sniffling as you lifted your hand to cradle Matt’s wet cheek.

“I know I’m fucking it up. I’m sorry I can’t be more. This is all I have to offer, and I know it’s selfish to ask you to keep loving me but I can’t be without you. You’re all I have.”

“I don’t understand, Matty.” You shook your head, furrowing your brows.

“You’re the only thing that brings me home. And I don’t mean physically. You’re the only reason I can find my way back to myself. You remind me of the love the world is capable of. Not even Foggy can do that for me the way that you do. Can’t you see that you’re it for me? Without you, I am just a man walking hand in hand with the Devil. There is no point without you.”

“Matty.” You sighed, caressing his cheekbones as tears cascaded down his face. 

Matt wasn’t sure what he wanted you to say. That he did deserve love, or maybe that you weren’t going to leave him after tonight was over, or maybe anything besides ‘I don’t love you anymore’. 

“Don’t leave me.” He begged, barely above a whisper, so tired of the war raging in his mind. If there was anything he was capable of doing tonight, it was pleading with you for this. Beyond that, he was useless. “Don’t leave.”

“Will you lay with me?” You asked, and Matt nearly collapsed into your hold. It was not what he was expecting, but he would take it. The inevitable self-hatred and doubt about this moment echoed in the back of his mind, but he was ignoring it for once. All he wanted to do was lay with you, so that’s exactly what he did.

Tell me that you're still mine

Tell me that we'll be just fine

Even when I lose my mind

I need to say

Tell me that it's not my fault

Tell me that I'm all you want

Even when I break your heart

I need to say

I don't wanna do, I don't wanna do this to you (Ooh)

I don't wanna lose, I don't wanna lose this with you (Ooh)

I need to say, hey, it's all me, just don't go

Meet me in the afterglow

Matt was on the verge of tears again, lying next to you in the bed that you had shared with each other for so many nights. He was so afraid of losing this, losing you. He wasn’t entirely sure he would survive if you asked him to leave after this. He wasn’t entirely sure that mindset was healthy, either, but that didn’t stop him from contemplating it. He was here, and you were here, and if he was destined to live in this doubt forever, then at least he would die next to you.

Your tears had long dried up, but the ache deep inside you was palpable and overwhelming and he didn’t know what to do. The hand you had led him here with, the one that you still held, the only thing connecting your body to his was his safety blanket. This was what people called a safe space, he thought. For the first time in a long time, Matt began to silently pray.

He prayed for you, and he prayed for himself, and mostly, he prayed for love. He prayed that the night would last forever, so that he could lay next to you for the remainder of his life. He prayed for forgiveness, and begged for yours. He prayed for the strength it would take if you didn’t grant it to him. Because if you asked him to leave, he would. It would hurt and possibly - no, definitely - kill him, but he’d do it, because you deserved that, at least. The possibilities of the night were endless, and that was the scariest thing to Matt. Anything could happen.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, lightly squeezing his hand.

“I’m praying.” He murmured, squeezing your hand back.

“About what?”

“About you.” 

“Oh, Matty.” 

The smile on your face, the steady thump of your elevated heart rate, felt like a win. Comfortable silence overtook the room, and you were so still for so long that anyone else might’ve thought you had fallen asleep, but Matt knew better. You were thinking, contemplating every word that had been shouted, pleaded, and begged tonight. All the while, Matt prepared himself for the worst.

“The sun’s coming up.” You murmured.

“Yeah?” It was all he could muster. Everything hurt, and he never wanted this moment to end.

“Yeah.” You swept your fingertips over his cheeks, following the path of the sun as it draped itself across both of your bodies. 

Matt swallowed, opened his mouth to ask the dreaded question, and then closed it and swallowed again. The gentle caress of your fingers felt like a brand in his skin. Finally, in a thick voice he asked for the second time in a matter of hours, “Do you want me to go?”

“Oh, Matty.” You whispered, tears welling in your eyes, and Matt’s heart sank into the ground below him. He thought he could do this, but he couldn’t. He was just supposed to leave what you had built with him? After everything, he was just supposed to count his losses and move on? No fucking way. His breathing had picked up, and he was so focused on his pounding heart that he almost missed the rest of your sentence. “I never wanted you to go. I just wanted you to understand how lonely I’ve been without you. I’m upset with you, but I’ll always love you, and I’ll never be the one asking you to leave.”

Matt stopped breathing for a moment, soaking in the warm relief as it crashed through him. He didn’t have to go, and you loved him. You loved him. You loved him.

“Are you sure?” He forced himself to ask, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

You let out a small giggle and pressed your lips to his forehead before responding. “Of course I’m sure, Matty. But it has to change, okay? We can’t do this to each other again.”

Matt could hardly believe the words coming out of your mouth. He would do anything to keep you here, holding him, keeping him safe, loving him. Anything.

“I promise.” He murmured, grabbing at your face to pull it closer to his. “I love you.”

He pressed a million kisses into your face until you let out the melodic laugh that he felt he could get drunk on. He would do anything to hear that sound again, to be the one causing that sound. Anything.

-

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[graciegoeskrazy]

Matty Healy Daughter Headcannons

Pairings: Matty Healy x Daughter!reader

Warnings: Absent mother, mentions of drug use, mention of unplanned pregnancy, mention of bullying

A/N: I’m so glad I’m not the only person who was craving some Matty x daughter fics. Send in some ideas!

It was no secret you were a surprise to your parents

Your mom and dad dated very briefly in 2009 and broke up before your mother found out she was pregnant with you

Your father wasn't too happy about the pregnancy at first but he knew he had to do what was right and agreed to support his ex no matter what the decision was

Your mother decided to keep you and raise you as best she could.

Although everyone around Matty was in complete shock and ultimately had some concerns when they found out about the news, there was a big parade of people lined up to meet you when you arrived

The moment you arrived and Matty laid his eyes on you his entire outlook on life changed

He made a solom vow to give you the best life he could and love you forever

He was determined to become a great father

Your mother on the other hand wasn't too happy and chickened out as soon as you arrived

Matty could sense the concern and agreed to talk to her once things settled down a couple of hours later so it was just her, Matty, and you.

But she up and left before that chance came

A couple of months later there was an envelope that arrived at Matty's doorstep

He opened it

It said that once you arrived she realized she couldn't do it

She claimed she loved you too much to give you the life she was gonna give

Matty was furious

How in the world could someone leave such a beautiful, precious, and defenseless little thing?

He knew he could do this without her though

He had his family and his bandmates who became your honorary family (except George who became your actual family when Matty deemed him godfather)

Life went on and you started to grow up

You were surrounded by music constantly while growing up (obvi)

Singing anything from Disney hits to Taylor Swift to classic rock

You heard it all

You never got in trouble when you were little

Which was a pleasant surprise to those around you

Everyone thought that a Matty reincarnate wouldn't be easy to raise

But you were the sweetest goofiest little girl with such a kind soul

You had his sass and humor

And your smile was practically identical

Even as a teenager you never knew much about your mother

Your skin tone was different than Matty's so you assumed you inherited that from your mom

As you grew up you obviously had questions

“Why do some of my friends have a mom?”

“Why do some of my friends have 2 moms or 2 dads?

“Do I have a mom?”

“Where is she?”

Eventually when you wouldn't shut up about it during a recording sesh your dad and Ross sat you down and gave you a condensed version

Saying your mom had to leave because she didn't want to be a mom

But it didn't matter because “our little family is perfect the way it is.”

You just said “Ok” and continued your homework

As you got older you just realized that you would be perfectly fine without her

The more you grew up the more details your dad gave you

You just said she is missing out

Your dad was proud of you for being so resilient towards it

When you were about to turn 8 things changed

You may have been young but you certainly weren't dumb

You knew about your dad and his addiction

Youre dad was in the deepest part of his addiction and his mates finally decided to bring him to rehab

At the request of your dad, you stayed with George while he was away

He was in there for over a month but before you could even see him again he relapsed

You didn't know your heart could break as much as it did

You stayed with George for about 3 months

It took a lot of convincing on Matty’s part for you to come back home

You were scared of what he might do again

You telling him that you were ‘scared’ of him is a memory that will haunt Matty for the rest of his existence

But it was the final wake-up call that he needed

With the help of George, you finally gave in and decided to move back in with your dad

Time went on and you grew up some more

Much to your father's dismay

You and your dad became even more inseparable

Even though he was your father you told him everything

From periods to boys to drama all of it

Getting your period was something Maty dreaded since the moment he found out you had a vagina

But he handled it like a pro

You were never afraid to tell him anything and therefore you both trusted each other immensely

During middle school, you encountered some bullies

At first, it was just the usual taunting

But eventually, it got more physical

They would talk about anything to get you down

Your dad and his work, your clothes, hair, anything

As much as you told the school and as much as your dad threatened to punch the kid nothing worked

Matty pulled you out of the school and enrolled you in online school just for the time being

It was the middle of the school year so finding another school super fast was gonna be a problem

But the more you continued with online school the more you liked it

Matty had his concerns about friendships and stuff with the online transition

But you were able to maintain friendships and make new ones through your other outlooks

It ended up being the right move and Matty let you continue with it

Cut to today

The band is on another leg of their tour

And with your online schooling youre able to go with them

Months before the tour dates were even scheduled your dad sat you down and had a conversation with you making sure you were okay with him going on tour and okay with you tagging along with him

Matty made it very clear that if you didn't even want him to tour he wouldn't do that

You weren't sure how serious he was with that thought but still appreciated it

You were hesitant about how this was gonna go at first but were excited to travel with your dad and family

One time Polly had to call out of the show for like a week for a family emergency

And all eyes turned to you

You knew the basic chords to all the songs and (being a huge fan) knew all the words too

It was like a moment 15 years in the making

You had the time of your lifeeeeee

And Polly was so thankful you stepped in

Matty was so proud of you for stepping in

And proud of the young women you were becoming

It was just another reassuring moment knowing that he made the right decision in life

[baby-girl-e]

Christmas Tree Farm

Characters - Iceman x Maverick, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Summary -  Maverick and Ice have their first Christmas with Bradley after Carole’s death. Just a couple of new dads doing their best to raise a happy kid. 

Word Count - 3.5k

Warnings - Canon- Character deaths; Mentions of period-typical homophobia

A/N - Sorry for the wait on this one, I started it a while ago and then life happened you know? I hope this one is happy and Christmas-y enough for you, I added a sprinkling of fluffy angst because I can’t help myself! This is also my first Kazansky-Mitchell-Bradshaw family fic so let me know what you think!

Without further ado... Christmas Tree Farm based on the song by Taylor Swift

It was the first Christmas that Maverick had Bradley since Carole died. He would’ve taken the kid to his grandparents house but for all that he tried he just couldn’t get in touch with the Bradshaws. Carole’s parents had been dead for longer than he’d known her, but he always knew that Nick’s parents were around and had spoken to them many times before he had died. The number he had for them, that he wrote down at her funeral, was right but he got their machine every time. With no call back he just had to assume they were out of town. He didn’t dare to think it was because they were ignoring him, how could they possibly not want to be with the coolest kid in the universe on Christmas?

So here Maverick was, standing in the middle of Target staring at the coats looking clueless. Bradley had outgrown his last one and Ice had insisted he needed a new one before they went to the Christmas tree farm the next day. He reminded his boyfriend that they still lived in San Diego and it didn’t get far below 50 degrees fahrenheit, especially not in the middle of the day. Ice had lovingly reminded him that not everyone was raised in the midwest and that this kid went from living in Texas to living in California and wasn’t used to the cold. 

“Need some help?” A kind looking lady pushing a shopping cart with what looked to be a kid Bradley’s age next to it, noticed his confused gaze. 

“Oh, um I’m fine I just have no idea what I’m doing here.” He thought he may as well be honest with the stranger.

“How old is the kid? I’ve had a few myself.” 

“He’s uh six.” Wow, time flew. It felt like just yesterday Nick had handed him a tiny bundle that just blinked up at him, unknowingly looking at his future pseudo father. 

“Well then he’s probably the same size as Matty here. What size did you last get him?” He internally winced at that. He didn’t check the size on the one that didn’t fit and he wasn’t the one that bought it for him, Carole was. 

“I don’t know, this is my first year as his dad.” She gave him a weird look and he decided to add more to make himself not sound like a dead-beat. “His parents and I were best friends, his dad died two years ago and his mom this summer. So now he’s mine.” 

She gave him a sad look and boy was he sick of those. It wasn’t her fault, what else was she supposed to do when told that story? It’s the polite thing to do. 

“Oh I’m so sorry. Do you at least have your wife around to help?” He almost laughed. No, but he had an Ice. A boyfriend that stuck by his side through thick and thin and god was he so damn lucky. He didn’t have a wife, but he was better so Maverick found himself agreeing. 

“Yeah I do. She’s usually better at this stuff but she’s working late.” He really had to keep the laughter at bay by referring to Ice as his wife. He couldn’t wait to tell Tom about this later. 

“Well not to worry I can help. Does he look about the same size as Matty?” 

“Yeah I think so. I would’ve brought him but he was just having so much fun at his friends house.” It was actually the Metcalfs but how was he supposed to say he didn’t want to stop listening to Viper explain the mechanics of an F-6? Weird kid. 

“Oh I understand, I won’t shop with the kids if I can help it. He’s usually a size 5-6, a little tip is that they’re sized with the same number as the ages so if they’re average sized then you should be safe. For coats however I always go a size up so that it at least lasts for two seasons. Shoes are kinda similar, but you don’t want to go too big or he’ll trip.” 

Really he should’ve been writing this down, but he’s a pilot for god sake he can remember stuff.

“Oh thank you. I’ll have to remember this for when we need to get him new shoes. I don’t think he will for a while.” 

“Of course, we parents have to stick together. Maybe bring your wife next time so it’s less painless!” He’s one hundred percent sure his ‘wife’ would have wanted to be here today but the Navy didn’t give time off for clothes shopping for the kid you and your secret boyfriend share. Maverick was only here because he wasn’t yet trusted to do the paperwork side of TOP GUN. 

“She’ll be here next time I’m sure. I’m not usually allowed to even do the grocery shopping let alone this. I don’t know why she puts up with me.” He laughed as he said it but it was true. He didn’t feel like he deserved him at times. 

“I’m sure love has something to do with it. Good luck!” And with that the nice stranger left him in the coat aisle gaping. 

Eventually he picks what he thinks might work, a hat and gloves that match, and heads back to their little house. When he gets home he calls Ice to check in and also to see if he’ll pick Bradley up from the Metcalf’s. 

“Kazansky speaking.” Maverick had to stop himself from giggling at his deep voice, it never failed to make him swoon. 

“Hey babe, how’s work?” Pete could hear a sigh of relief over the phone, probably because he’d been expecting it to be a work call.

“It’s killing me baby. Just a few more minutes and I’ll be home free.” The way Tom had drawled through baby was making him sweat. 

“I’ll have dinner ready when you get home if you want to swing by the Metcalfs on your way and grab baby goose?” Viper and his wife had long since found out about their relationship, Pete accidentally using babe in the workplace, but they never bat an eye. After Pete’s inevitable breakdown his fathers former best friend reassured the couple that their secret is safe with him and if they’re comfortable they could come to Sunday dinners with his wife and really be a real couple. Small mercies. 

“Why in god's name is he at the Metcalfs without you?” 

“Because I had to grab something from Carrie after work and Bradley wanted to come. Mike was telling him about some F-6 and it was like pulling teeth getting him to leave. They offered to keep him until you got off so I said yes. I’m telling you Tom our son is so weird.” 

Our son slipped out of his mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was, Pete quite liked the little family he had made for himself. 

“Well that’s because he’s been spending too much time with you. I say we switch places and see which dad he takes after.” It seemed Tom thought it was natural too. Pete didn’t want to erase the kids memory of his real dad, but he also didn’t want him to grow up without one like he did. 

“You’d love that wouldn’t you? Just go get him and get your ass home so I can finally kiss you. I’ve been dying to since you thought it’d be fun to chew on that stupid pen.” The worst part about working with your secret boyfriend was for sure the whole keeping your hands to yourself part. 

“That got you going huh? Maybe I’ll keep it up.” He could practically hear the smirk. Oh god. 

“Not unless you want to be slapped with a DD. Good god I’m hanging up, Love you.” 

“Love you too.” Tom was laughing through his words but then the line went dead. Pete couldn’t help but laugh too. God he loved that man. 

///

About an hour later Pete could hear both keys jingling in the lock and a small six year old voice chattering on about some plane. He was still in the kitchen when the door opened and heard Tom remind Bradley to take off his wet shoes before he came flying in to say hi to him. 

“Pete! Hi!” The little boy was jumping up and down practically begging to be held. 

“Baby goose I just saw you a few hours ago, you can’t have possibly missed me already!” He was hugging Bradley tight as Tom came in and pressed a small peck to Pete’s lips. 

“I don’t care I missed you!” He was wiggling to get down already and Pete obliged. He called out to the boy to go wash up so they could eat and he heard something that sounded like “okay'' before he disappeared to his room. 

Pete shook his head at Tom before striding over to where he was drying his hands. He immediately took his face in his hands and kissed him. Resisting Pete was futile and Tom kissed him back with an urgency he was still getting used to. 

They made a point to not kiss in front of the kid, no more than a small peck, but with him distracted they took advantage of the moment. As they pulled back they mumbled greetings before Pete retreated back to putting dinner onto three plates. 

“Glad you’re home Tom. I missed you.” Tom blushed and set two out of the three plates on the table. 

“And you gave Bradley a hard time for missing you? You’re impossible Pete.” 

He just smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Can’t help it.” 

Once they get Bradley downstairs and eating Pete starts to notice Bradley seemed like something’s on his mind. Just picking at his food and being abnormally quiet. Tom picks up on it too because he gives Pete a look before addressing the kid. 

“Everything okay baby goose?” They were already worried about raising him, so anytime something went wrong they were both panicked. 

“Yeah, can I tell you guys something?” He looked up to them with wary eyes and Pete felt his insides freeze. 

“Anything Bradley you know that.” Tom reassured him.

“Well, this morning in class my friends were talking about their dad’s and I don’t know, I just wish I could talk about mine.” They looked at the kid concerned, they knew they’d have to talk about this eventually but Pete wanted to avoid it as much as possible. 

“Well you know you have a dad, he’s just not here.” The kid looks sad still and Pete looks to Tom for some assistance. Tom’s at just as much of a loss.

“I know, but I don’t know how to tell the other kids that. Would it be okay… Maybe…” He didn’t seem to be able to get out the words. Tom stepped in. 

“It’s okay kiddo, take your time.” Neither had been prepared for parenthood, least of all Tom. He had resigned himself to a life without kid’s a long time ago. 

“Do you think it’d be okay if I called you guys dad?” 

Tom looked to Pete, like he did in most situations, and Pete looked pale. He never wanted to replace Nick, but Bradley really did deserve to have a dad. 

“Oh baby goose, of course that’s okay. But you remember what we talked about with Tom right? That people can’t know we love each other like your parents did.” Bradley nods enthusiastically.

“I remember. But I can still call you dad?” Bradley looked so hopeful but not quite so sure of himself. Like he didn’t know that these men would give him their kidney if he asked. 

“Absolutely Bradley. Just as long as you don’t tell people you have two dads, at least for now that’s okay. Tom?” Pete wanted to be sure that he was also okay with it, it’s not like Tom had planned on kids so early into a relationship. 

“It’s okay with me buddy. I’m honored that you see me that way. Now go clean up and we’ll watch a Christmas movie?” 

He nods again and runs up the stairs leaving his dad’s flabbergasted but deliriously happy in the kitchen. They were a real little family and damnit if they weren’t both over the moon about it. 

///

The next day comes quickly, especially when they’re woken up by a little boy jumping on their bed. 

“Dad! Dad! We’re getting a Christmas tree today right?” It seemed Bradley wanted to start calling them dad asap. It might get confusing really fast if he doesn’t find another term to call one of them. 

“We are buddy, but we have to be patient and get decorations for it first. Your dad and I only have a few things.” He tried on the name himself and Pete was rewarded with a glowing Tom even this early in the morning. 

“Okay, I’ll go get ready then. But you need to hurry, not wasting time kissing. Yuck.” He makes a face and collapses into giggles when Tom does exactly what Bradley had requested they not do. 

It takes them record time getting Bradley out the door that day, normally having to stop for about a million things but it seems like the kid moved like lightning when he had something to look forward to. He did look cute all bundled up in his new coat, even if he’d have to take it off the minute he got into the car and into his carseat. 

They went straight to Walmart to find ornaments and lights and were delighted to walk right into them when they walked in the door. Bradley picked out a set of shiny red ones and even found an F-14 one. Perks of living right near a Navy base. 

“Dad! Look, it's the one you fly right?” He had made the mistake of grabbing an F-15 Eagle before and received a long lesson on who had better planes, the Navy or the Air Force. 

“That’s right Bradley, put it in the cart.” He did so and scampered off. Pete leaned in close to Tom to whisper to him after. 

“I hope he finds another name for one of us. We can’t both be dad, I’m already confused as to who the hell he was just talking to.” Tom laughs and nudges Pete along the aisle. 

“I’m sure he will. I wouldn’t mind being called Pops. I’m sure you two can find a joke in there somewhere.” He smiled and winked at Pete before turning towards the ornaments, not missing Pete’s lit up face. 

“I love this so much more already. Ice-Pops. That’s amazing.” Tom was laughing too but slowed when he stumbled upon a first christmas ornament. It was pretty generic looking, a tree with a banner below that stated “Our First Family Christmas 1988”.

“What about this one Pete? I know it’s not our first Christmas but it is as a family.” Pete takes it from his boyfriend to examine it. 

“It’s perfect Tom. I love it. Should we get one to commemorate our first christmas?” He turned to find another generic one and saw the perfect one. A red heart decorated with snow and candy canes, a similar banner but this one stated “Our First Christmas”. 

“I could write 1986 on the back? What do you think? Too obvious?” Tom examined it much like Pete had before placing it in the cart. 

“Anyone who doesn’t know about us will not be invited into the house during Christmas time I assure you.” Tom sounded so sure of himself that Pete left it there. They rarely had guests anyways. 

Eventually they get Bradley to decide on a star and the rest of the trimmings before Tom tells Pete to go out to the car with Bradley while he purchases the items. They wanted to get to the Christmas tree farm within a reasonable timeframe to maybe try and beat the crowds. They both so desperately wanted this to seem as normal as possible and with lots of people around they’d have to go back to pretending to just be wingmen and not lovers. 

As Tom pulled into the lot Bradley was screeching his excitement. “Dad!! Look there it is!!” 

“Which dad are you talking to kiddo?” They just needed some clarification already. 

“Both of you now, but I think I’m going to call Ice pops. You know, like the Ice cream?” He was giggling and Tom had a smug look on his face. It seems like great minds think alike. 

“I love it, baby goose. Let’s go choose our tree shall we?” Bradley was back to screeching and Pete couldn’t unbuckle him fast enough. 

The kid ran into the farm with his dad’s in tow, Tom by the hand, and ran right to the tallest one he could find. 

“This one Pops! This one.” He was jumping now, pointing as he went. 

“Kiddo that won’t fit in our living room, let’s look for a shorter one, yeah?” He re;ented fairly easily for his age and was quickly bounding over to the next one. 

He searched every row, multiple times too, looking for that perfect tree. Pete and Tom just looked on, hoping he’d settle on a decently sized and priced one soon. Eventually he did and it was Tom’s turn to get the attendant to wrap it up for them. 

Sooner rather than later it was strapped to the car and they were on their way home. Once they got there Tom started up on making soup to warm the chilly boy and Pete figured out how to get it set up and looking nice. 

Looking into the living room Tom couldn’t help but tear up. He really never thought that anything like this could ever happen to him, least of all with Pete. When he saw Pete’s plane fall into that flat spin back in 1986 he really thought that was it. That he’d never get the chance to tell Pete how he felt. And moreover, after learning of Nick Bradshaw’s passing he thought Pete would never be the same. 

Later, when Pete had admitted his feelings for him and all seemed right he still had a hard time believing it. Just when he had thought that maybe, just maybe they’d be okay, Carole Bradshaw had followed her husband. This was it, he thought. Pete is going to raise Bradley and Tom was going to become just a past fling, it wasn’t like he was going to have time for a relationship and a kid. But here he was. Watching the love of his life wrap lights around a Christmas tree with a child that calls him ‘Pops’. 

Later after the kid was in bed, tree decorated and Christmas movies watched, he and Pete sat on the couch basking in each other's arms and the glow of the fire. 

“Hey Tom?” Pete was quiet, not because he needed to be but because he didn’t want to disturb the peace they had found. 

“Yeah baby?” Tom was drawing idle patterns on Pete’s arm, also not wanting to disturb the peace. 

“I love you.” It was so simple, but Tom really wasn’t sure he would ever get used to it. 

“I love you too. You know I bought something after you two went out to the car.” It was random but it was in a small bag a couple inches away from him and he couldn’t help himself. 

“Oh yeah?” Pete turned slightly towards his partner and raised him a curious brow. 

Tom pulled the bag towards where they sat and pulled out a small sprig of mistletoe. Pete blushed and shook his head in laughter. 

“Babe, you know you don’t need that to get a kiss right?” He was already inching impossibly closer to Tom, hoping he knew where this was going. 

“I know, I just would like something to remind you. Maybe we can keep it up year round.” He was teasing Pete but it seemed he was growing impatient. He grabbed the plant from Tom and held it above their heads before pulling him into a hard kiss. Tom was kissing back in record time and they sank into it. 

Kissing wasn’t a new concept to them, obviously, but every time they did it never failed to make Tom’s heart flutter. Pete pulled away and set his arm down around Tom. 

They breathed heavily into each other's mouths and Tom broke into a smile. Pete was smiling too by the end and then they were laughing. This was comfortable, this was love. 

“Merry Christmas baby.” Pete had caught his breath enough to squeak the words out. 

“Merry Christmas Pete.” he hoped and prayed this was the standard for the rest of his Christmases. He finally had everything he ever wanted, a family.

[peeterparkr]

red; tom's version|one.

chapter one: sad, beautiful tragic. “Long handwritten note deep in your pocket”

pairing: Tom Holland x Reader (tom's not famous here) story summary: you’re reminiscing through your relationship months after the heartbreak and breakup. Wondering if it went wrong from the very start when Tom arrived at New York, and him being a cautionary tale or if the problems came along the way. Perhaps the key to find back your way to him is going back through the nice things before the heartbreak came. Or is it too painful to go all over again?

chapter summary: you haven't seen him since he ditched you, after months of wearing plaid you go out and realize he's back in new york warnings: angsty, I mean it's a breakup, swearing. word count: 7.3k playlist (updated after each chapter, including Red songs+ other for the chapter): Spotify | Apple Music

fic masterlist next chapter

a/n: Hi, I couldn't wait to share it so I said, screw it, I'm posting this. You don't know how excited I am to write this and share it with you. As you know, this is inspired by Red by Taylor Swift and will hurt. So I expect us all to be crumpled up pieces of paper wearing scarves by the end of this. (perennial is still coming, I'm just waiting on a few people who're reading it). SPECIAL THANKS TO @erodasghosts for reading it and hyping me up and helping me figure this all out. I hope you guys all like it as much as I did. The story is set in New York. Please give feedback!

One month after the breakup.

Strong whiskey, on the rocks. That was his drink of choice that night. The night before had been a beer. You knew you could imagine the taste of his lips by only looking at him. You wondered if he’d gone there for a second night for the same reason you had.

When you had seen him across the place the night before, you had tried to decide how to feel. We always think we will react one way or another when we see our official heartbreak walking through. Victorious as he is perfectly dressed, with his hair flowing.

He hadn’t brought her. Which you didn’t know how to feel about.

The day before you had not been alone, Jules, Matty, and Lula were there.

“Shit, the axolotl at 10 o'clock, you’ve got to be shitting me,” Lourdes, Lula, had whispered before sipping her drink, a Long Island Tea. “We are celebrating she’s doing better, can’t fucking believe this,” she hissed at Jules who only lifted her chin slightly to see who she was referring to. “What the fuck is he doing here? Ay, es que, con qué huevos se atreve a venir aquí? Que no mame.” [with what balls did he dare to come here? He shouldn’t fuck with us. ]

You loved hanging out with Lula and listening to her very refined Spanish cursing.

“It’s not him,” Julia said.

You tried looking back to see who they were referring to. “Who is—?”

“Y/N, wait I just noticed the haircut!” Matt pointed out, reaching over, getting your attention back to them and not at whatever they were referring to. “It looks great. It’s like a new you!”

This new you. The one that had been screwed over twice. Men really have the nerve when it comes to breaking hearts. They recklessly go in and let you believe love comes in all shades of colors, passionate red like the roses they send, and tender pinks like your sweet innocence that they end up stealing. But they never tell you it’ll be you all alone in a dark room with shades of grey under a flickering light that barely warms you.

The new you, which was still a bit lost. Your old self was a stranger to you now. You had no idea who this new you was, she was quiet now. Didn’t have a heart because someone had stolen it and broken it and left it behind a dumpster. Still trying to find it. The new you wasn't.. you.

Your friends were glad, however, they finally got you to go out again. After weeks of wearing plaid and watching Fleabag, and even considering watching Greys Anatomy, a low point, you had finally decided to come back to see if there was any sunshine left for you.

It’s important to point out that you had been broken-hearted and almost crazy when the breakup had happened. Very… delusional. You were not proud of the way you’d reacted. Although you wouldn’t have reacted any other way.

The city had been quiet, the red lights seemed to last longer, and the crowds would often swallow you. The city you once loved was now an open book of a relationship that seemed real, should’ve known it was all fiction.

In your dreams they’d be bright, colorful. The village is aglow. Cold days with warm hearts. Like his.

You’d been cold ever since.

“Ah, yeah, the haircut. Got it today. Lula’s idea” The haircut had come as the solution to a problem that would never be solved. As if cutting your hair meant there was something you had the power on. You didn’t.

How stupid was it? You couldn’t control your life.

“It suits her well, doesn’t it?” Lula admitted proudly.

You still had his picture engraved in your heart. You still dreamed he would come back and say it was all a nightmare.

“It’s nice, I’m glad to have you back,” Jules commented. Julia had probably been the most surprised with the news of the breakup, she had almost gone and killed Tom when he had….unimportant. She hadn’t, though, and she had yet to tell you the reason why. Julia had been mysterious since.

“I’m glad to be back,” you confirmed. You’d ordered a beer, and maybe you shouldn’t have. Stella Artois, his one favorite. You pocketed the beer cap. “Though I was not gone.”

Matt watched you, him and Julia had recently started dating. Best friends since kids who just recently confessed their feelings for each other, took them long enough. “How back are you, though?”

“Meaning?” You asked, taking a sip.

Matt shrugged, “I could introduce you to some friends from work, there’s this hot guy—“

“No,” you interrupted him, leaving the bottle down as you had almost choked. “No, no. Not in the dating area yet. Won’t be in a long time. Still healing.”

Lula still had her eyes glued elsewhere. “Healing from a bullet hole, y/n, whatever you’re doing isn’t working, and band aids won’t fix it—Jules it is, I swear to god it’s him.”

“It’s not him,” Julia rolled her eyes.

“Ay, que sí!” [he is]

“Who?” You asked.

Julia took your hands, “you know Lula,” she rolled her eyes. “I love that you ordered a beer.”

“Yeah,” you gulped. “Beer is universal language for men as in: ‘don’t get close to me.’” A lesson someone dear had taught you once.

Matt tilted his head in agreement, “Yeah.”

“Really?” Lula frowned, “should’ve ordered one. Next time I’ll ask for my drink but instead of a glass I’ll ask them to put it in a beer bottle.”

“Wouldn't it be easier to order a beer?” Matt suggested.

“But then I’d break our tradition.”

Matt watched her, “you really are something.”

You chuckled.

“Why is beer seen as not—feminine?” Matt questioned.

Julia shrugged. “It’s beyond me, really. It’s a drink.”

“Like does my drink make me less of a man?” Matt watched his glass, another Long Island Tea. A stupid inside joke you all had.

“No,” you admitted. “But you know how society is. Since it’s sweet, it’s got to be—“

“Oh, no, no, I love you, y/n, but tonight I don’t want you lecturing us on it, no, tonight we are having fun, ok?” Lula reminded you. “We will not talk about femininity or lack of a beer—or whatever your agenda is up to these days, which, hey! Why does y/n get to break the rule?” Lula questioned. “No Long Island Tea?

Julia glared at her, “Because she can do whatever she wants tonight,” she hissed and then turned to you. “But how are you feeling? It’s your first time going out in months, is it as fun?” Julia was the one to try to cheer you up the most.

No, it wasn’t fun.

“I—feel good!” You lied. Although you were not. But you guessed that’s the response they wanted after seeing you laying down on the ground and crying yourself to sleep. Staring at windows and walking down in the rain. They wanted you to feel better.

Your body was covered in scars.Though, they were from adventures.

“Bullshit,” Lula intruded. “You seem sad. Maybe I’ll get some shots,” she announced before going to get some.

“Well,” you chuckled. “My first time going out and you bring me back to the place where it all started?” You answered cynically but then shrugged. “I’m—I…no. I just—It’s weird. I still see him everywhere, and as I’m here it’s like watching a movie of our greatest moments,” you admitted. “Like hey, look over there, it’s Tom and Y/N’s greatest moments,” you stated, Lula got back. “Let’s start memory lane…”and you sighed and continued with the best presenter voice you had. “Here you’ll wonder how the hell did it go so wrong since they were so perfect, what the hell went wrong, when did it turn into some sad stupid love affair. You’ll be asking yourself hey, they seemed in love, over there, they danced! Over there… they sang a song together! See over there? There was a fucking jukebox in which they have memories! Oh they have memories there too! And you’ll ask yourself, he made it seem real, what the hell happened?” You sighed exhaustedly. “What happened? What the fuck happened? How was I so stupid?” You ran your hands through your face.

Your friends only watched you, with pity, sadness. Even Lula had turned her gaze guilty.

You cleared your throat, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Lula sighed, “it’s our fault for bringing you here. We’re fucking idiots. Besides he is—Julia I swear to god, he is there.” Lula raised her hand and Julia quickly pulled it down.

Julia bit her lip, “I—hadn’t realized how much Tom there is here.”

“Yeah.”

“He called me—“Matt had started.

“No, no, we can’t talk about him, baby,” Julia reminded him. Matt widened his eyes and nodded.

You blinked, “no, it’s—He called you? Tom?” Why had Tom called Matty? What for?

“Yeah, had a missed call,” Matt explained, ignoring his girlfriend. “I—it was this morning.”

You felt your chest twist. “Yeah, I get a lot of those too.”

Perhaps he wanted to talk to you and thought Matty was dumb enough to give you the phone.

Julia glared at Matt. “We promised not to—“

“No, hey,” you stopped her. “I—sorry, I brought him up.”

“But we shouldn’t talk about him,” Julia insisted. “Tonight is all about having fun,” she stated as she handed everyone their shots.

“No, it’s alright,” you said. “I’m fine talking about it.”

Lula turned her gaze to you. “Shouldn’t you hate him?”

Were you supposed to hate someone who gave you something so beautiful? Just because it’s over doesn’t mean you have to look back and hate it.

“No,” you answered simply.

Matt watched you. “Wait, really?”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m—I decided I’m thankful for everything. He really… I… I mean I knew from the start he was trouble. But he got me to get rid of Will. So I’m thankful for Tom. He showed me some beautiful things about him, about myself and… I’m thankful. Even the part when he broke my heart.”

It was a lie. Partly. You had been so full of doubts that you only tried wondering why it had gone so wrong. Or course, the lie was there. His lies. But how could any of it be a lie?

Julia smiled gently, “You’re really a grown up.”

“Or very stupid.” Lula commented.

“Thanks, Lula, I appreciate it,” you rolled your eyes. “I… well, I’ve gotta admit I was pretty stupid.”

Lula shrugged, “Hey, I don’t blame you, boy came in with an accent, he had a cute smile, he was hot, I must admit, and he wasn’t one of those Brooklyn fuckboys that take you to the rooftop and offer you a whiteclaw to watch the sunrise together,” Lula gave in.

“Oh, and they take candid pictures, and they say that their phone camera isn’t as good as their polaroid,” Julia laughed, “But hey, you’re lucky they took you to the rooftop, they never take anyone there, they took you there just because you’re…”

“Different,” Julia, Lula and you chanted.

Matt laughed, “You guys are the worst.”

“Anyway,” Lula said. “We should drink these,” she pointed at the shot glasses as she raised her own. “I came here to get drunk. So, to Y/N being thankful Tom was a piece of shit even when the boy had a dreamy accent?”

You closed your eyes, and let out a defeated dry chuckle. “Yes, to that.”

“To the piece of shit, then!” Lula grinned as the shots clinked and were downed. You instantly regretted drinking it.

Lula scowled as she had her eyes glued back at the bar, “It’s him, Julia, it’s him! What is he doing here? Pendejo, I swear to god I’ll go kill him.” She was furious, and you tried once again following her gaze.

The bar was crowded, red lights crossed around the place, with girls walking with tall heels, trying to smile and nod at guys who were talking to them but clearly were not of interest to them. Friends laughing, people flirting. You didn’t know who your friends were watching.

But the bar seemed to be enough of a reminder of him. How he had made you feel like crowds were never there, and how whenever you had been with him everything disappeared just to be with him.

“Who are we killing?” You questioned.

“Is new y/n a murderer?” Asked Matt. Matt and Julia were your oldest friends. The three of you grew up in Staten Island, and now moved to the crowded places.

Lula coughed. “Hope she is.” Lula, on the other hand, you’ve met in college, she was a very defined addition to the friend group. With more personality. A strong one. Lula, Julia and you shared a small apartment.

Julia cleared her throat.

“The fucking scarf,” Lula scowled.

“What scarf?” Matt asked. And you had the same question.

Julia whispered to her boyfriend’s ear who had turned cold. He lifted his head.

“But it’s not.”

“It is him,” Matt confirmed to Lula. “Jules, it is.”

And now your three friends were acting strange. Usually they did but this was strang-er. They all shared looks, Julia struggled with her hands.

They were watching you with pity but you’d gotten used to that. After the breakup they had been extra careful around you, kinder, you guessed.

Fools they were to believe that by not mentioning him you wouldn’t think of him. He was a memory that would haunt you for the rest of the days.

“So, y/n,” Julia was clearly hiding whatever Lula was seeing.

“Wasn’t he in London? What in this fucking world is he doing here?” Lula continued.

“Shut up!” Julia ordered.

“London?” You asked and you lifted your head, and any noise that was bustling before had stopped.

Tom.

Tom was there.

Thomas.

Tom who had broken your heart. In every possible way that he could’ve. Like he had planned it. Like he was aware.

He was there, on a stool with a beer in his hand and wearing a red scarf. The red scarf. As if he was mocking you.

Tom.

Did he pride on hurting you?

He had always said you were invincible. That you were unrivaled in matters of the heart. Was he proud he had beaten the unbeaten?

You’d always thought he would.

When we love deeply, getting hurt comes as a given. But when we love deeply, we are never expecting it to come. And when it does come the skies cannot turn grayer. Funny thing, you were a fan of the rain but when the rain doesn’t cease, the hope doesn’t perdure.

But he was back in your life. Or at least he had been in the same room as you after months.

What was he doing back in New York with your scarf?

You turned back to your own table, breathing in quickly, bringing your hand to your chest in an attempt to calm yourself down.

You saw your friends speaking but you couldn’t make a word of what they’re saying. Your heart was rushing. Thomas was there. Tom. Your Tom. And there was a part of you that had completely forgotten over the heartbreak and wanted to run to him.

Kiss him, try to fix it. Try to bring back the beautiful thing you both had. Because it was. And it hurt looking back.

You were having trouble breathing now, the heartbreak had come.

That’s the worst thing about heartbreak. You never saw it coming, though you should’ve. Though it was beautiful you’d known from the start you’d end up hurt. But when a lie is crafted so beautifully, how could you?

“It’s him.” The words had come in whispers.

You barely remembered what had happened next. You had only stood up, decisive to leave, you’d seen him try to walk his way to you. You’d heard him call your name, but you hadn’t turned back, you had seen Matty stop him from running to you.

It was blurry. You didn’t know how you got home. Desperately trying to understand why he was there and how the night had turned too badly.

Lula and Matt had come back later to find Julia trying to comfort you, hugging a pillow that you were sure he had slept on. Breathless.

But it was in the past now, you were there again. Same bar, both in stools far away.

You were almost sure he’d gone to that bar in hopes of finding you again.

Just like you’d gone again.

His eyes the night before were guilty. You only took a deep breath, you remembered trying to avoid his glance at any chance as you had walked out.

Why were you there again?

That feeling in your chest growing, like there was something heavy expanding. Yet your stomach falling smaller. The pain was but a shield, as if it was creating a special protection around your heart, and though it hurt it was enough for it to make your heart strong to leave the place.

You didn’t want to see Tom. You hadn’t talked to him since. Even when he’d tried to call. Even when you’d tried calling.

Not when you had replayed the breakup over and over and over again since he was gone.

Everyone deals with breakups in different ways. Yours, specifically, was avoiding it. Everything and everyone. Especially Tom.

It was hard when he was everywhere. In that tattoo he’d convinced you to get, in that ring he’d left, in that cereal box that you still hadn’t finished. Whenever you listened to a song he’d recommended. Whenever you’d open Netflix and that series you had started watching together was still recommended to you even when you’d deleted it.

Everywhere.

You couldn’t use your favorite colors because you could hear it, in the back of your head “I love how it looks on you.” “You should wear more blue, it suits you.”

Even your stupid laugh remind you of him. “Your laugh is the most wonderful thing I’ve heard, even if it’s so ugly.”

You missed the person you were when he was with you. How everything was happy. Who was that y/n? Who didn’t mind if she was slightly late to a place because he’d come with you? Who didn’t feel alone at parties when she knew nobody because you knew him?

A y/n that existed only for a short period of time when he’d been around and that he’d shattered like glass when he had the chance.

You missed that y/n.

The y/n that would sometimes lose her breath and catch it back when he walked into the room. A y/n that sang along to her favorite songs all day. The one that would give her heart in a rush to him. The one that watched movies no matter if they were good or not.

Life had colors back then.

Now you were full of regrets and of doubts. Wondering what you had done wrong? Where did it lead you?

You looked up at him then. He was staring down at his glass.

There was a slight trace of him still there, the Tom you once loved. The one with the silly smile and the gentle chuckle, the one with the jokes about everything.

You wondered how much of that y/n he saw too.

You were the same two people, in essence. But how different you were now.

The Tom you knew before finding out it was a lie.

There was still a hint. You knew. But there was so much of him in you that it was hard to see if you still were there. Or the Tom you thought you knew. Not the one with the lie. Or maybe this was the truest Tom he could ever be.

He had to move on, rather quickly, you recalled. If he ever did.

There was a stupid reminder of you in his hand, that red scarf from the very first day.

You still remembered how it all started, a stupid red scarf. He kept it, then, and he wore it.

You had ordered a beer, too. You pocketed the cap again.

But there was an image in your mind, maybe he had gone back and probably had his arm around her and he laughed at a joke she made. Maybe she was funnier than you. Definitely prettier, with her hair falling down all the way to her waist, her clothing accentuating everything you didn’t have.

You recalled having to leave the room when you found out. You had been a mess.

Leaning against a wall as you caught your breath before the tears came down, as if he had pierced right through it. A pain chest that had expanded all the way on your body, not sure how you were able to keep walking back to your place. Falling down to your knees when you did.

Pain. Words failed to describe such a deep sentiment.

But it was gone now. Not entirely but at least you could hold your breath fine when he was just across the room.

What went wrong?

You could ask him. He was right there.

Maybe even tell him how you had lost sight. He hadn’t walked up to you. He was nervous, but he seemed calm enough to see you were there. You were still unsure why you had gone there.

Maybe all the good things were enough to bring you there, maybe the fact that you still didn’t believe it was a lie brought you there. Maybe the fact that one of those pictures from that photobooth was still in a locket. So stupid.

He fiddled with the glass.

You waited and waited but he didn’t approach you. He took out a paper out of his pocket as he stared at it.

You wouldn’t approach him. No matter how happy he had made you once, you wouldn’t walk to him. No matter how beautiful it was. No matter if you were lonely and that when you dared to sleep he’d be haunting your dreams.

It was a tragedy now. What you both were, and not even worth enough to try and save it. You knew you were haunting him too. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here.

He was shakin, as he stared at you, nervous. He downed his drink, you guessed it was for some liquid courage and stood up, with the note in one hand and your red scarf in the other.

Your own courage for coming here was gone, as you saw his intentions, the urge to run you had the night before was becoming you. But he couldn’t walk. He had to sit down again, rubbing his face.

The courage that had come when choosing what Lula called the ‘revenge black dress’ was nowhere in sight. You were cold and regretting putting it on.

“I can’t do this,” you said to yourself and quickly let out some dollars to pay for your drink before picking up your stuff to leave.

You saw he panicked when he saw you leaving, he quickly called the bartender to pay for his drink.

You closed your coat as you were shaking yourself, punishing yourself for going there. Why had you gone there? The man had broken your heart? Were you really there to see him?

Was your heart foolish enough to ignore the warnings in your mind once again?

You walked your way to get to the subway station, how irrelevant you were through the crowds. You hadn’t felt this way for a while, caring for the crowds. But you had to get through them. There was a part of you that wished Tom was following you after. But the crowds didn’t let you see if he was.

Besides, you shouldn’t want that.

You finally managed to get to the station, you clung to your purse as you stared at the tracks, waiting for the next train to come. Peaceful it seemed, the station. As peaceful as New York could be. You guessed if you cried nobody would care.

“y/n!” You heard your name in the distance and you couldn’t handle it.

You took a deep breath and shook your head, angrily. Why had you gone? You could’ve easily kept ignoring his calls. You could’ve stayed in your apartment, crying as you watched SNL videos on youtube, or rewatching a cartoon for the hundredth time, letting your own sadness and self pity swallow you.

But you had gone to him. This was your fault. You should’ve taken a cab, instead, he would know you’d get at this station and he for sure would know what train you’d take.

“y/n, y/n!” He kept calling as he finally arrived next to you. “Sorry I would’ve gotten here faster but the damn MetroCard-”

“I’m not doing this, Tom,” you stated before he could go on rambling like the idiot he was. You couldn’t do it. “Not here, not anywhere. I don’t know what you’re doing here.”

“I…” His face was kind, and he seemed to be nervous. You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping, probably the jet lag.

You took a moment to look at him, he didn’t look as victorious as you had thought he was. His hair was messy, and his cheeks flushed, the buttons on his shirt were not buttoned right.

Seeing him again, with that signature look he had made you want to go down to your knees.

“Aren’t you supposed to be back in London?” You snapped. “With that pretty girl-”

“No, no, I’m-I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” Tom stuttered. “I was an idiot.”

You stared into his eyes, you were not ready for this. You were not ready to look into his stupid eyes. You looked away. “That’s all you have to say?” You tried walking away from him..

He shook his head. “No, no, no, no, I… No, I actually… I had this… I wrote down my apology,” Tom confessed. He showed you a sad, handwritten paper, now slightly teared up with the ink running. “I… I had….”

You looked down at it, his messy handwriting, crinkled with words scratched down. “You wrote it down?”

You didn’t know why you felt your heart warm. This kind of stuff was why you couldn’t understand what had happened. Someone like him, who writes his apologies down. Someone who stutters when he’s speaking.

“Yeah, I… but I spilled my drink on it after seeing you fled,” He explained, swallowing hard. “I… I… I had written it down so I wouldn’t forget it but now I realize how stupid that is… I’m… I’m really sorry, y/n.” .

You could hear the train coming. You were seeing him again. It hit you right there. And this was not the reaction you thought. You had said you would be delusional, crying and fighting and questioning him why the fuck he had done that.

Yet you weren’t. You were only watching him, eyes full of tears wanting to slide down but unable to. But there was that pain still in your chest.

How could he ever dare to hurt you that way? “I don’t want to talk to you,” you said. And meant it. “Please leave me alone.” You said before walking into the train.

“Y/N, please, no, please, please, listen to me,” He followed you in, the scarf still in his hand.

You tried sitting as far away as you could. Arms and legs crossed as you tried breathing in.

He sat beside you and you changed seats. He sighed but followed you again. “Please, I need to talk to you. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Well you did,” you snapped. “You did, and now you come here a month later with a handwritten note apology thinking I will be fine with it?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I had to solve-Please, would you listen?” Tom asked, knowing damn well he had to ask, and not just straight up blurt it out.

“Why would I, Tom?” You turned to him, with a tear traveling down your cheek. You were incredulous. “You’re kidding me, right? I… You… You think that just because you show up with that stupid face of yours and my scarf I’ll want to listen to you? You’re an idiot.”

He sighed and reached to give you the scarf. You ignored it.You were furious now.

The other people on the train were certainly getting a show. A guy with a backpack was trying to pretend he wasn’t listening but his reactions were giving it away. Another woman pretended to keep reading her book but she hadn’t turned any pages.

Tom took the scarf back staring at it. “I need to explain everything to you.”

“What if I don’t want an explanation?” You snapped. Though you did. You had been waiting for one, you wanted one. You would beg for it. But your pride was taking the wheel of the conversation. “Don’t you think it’s fucking late for it?”

“Is it?” Tom turned back to you.

“Yes!” You couldn’t believe him. But this seemed a bit too familiar of a conversation. “And beside no explanation would make me forgive you!” You stated, whispering, not wanting any of the attention you were receiving.

“I’m not… I… If you just listen to me,” Tom said.

You glared, “I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Then why did you come to the bar?” He asked.

He fucking asked.

Your eyes widened. He had gone there. He knew. He fucking knew you’d gone back because you wanted an explanation. Or so he thought. No, you’d gone back because… Yes, because you wanted an explanation. Because everything he’d done had been beautiful. Until the heartbreak. He had crafted and vexed his way into your cold stupid heart and then he had gone and pierced right through it, crushed it.

You wanted to ask why. Why did he do it so vehemently?

You didn’t answer, instead you moved one seat away. He kept his eyes on you.

“You wouldn’t have gone if you didn’t want an explanation,” he said. “Or to see me, at least. I know I did, I needed to see you.”

You saw the guy with the backpack purse his lips, knowing that Tom had got you. There was little context for them. The girl with the book directed a glance to you, trying to read your emotions.

If they knew, they’d be on your side and yelling at him as well.

He rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his face.

“I didn’t, it was a coincidence,” you answered coldly.

“No, it bloody wasn’t,” Tom scoffed and then sat up. “No, I’m… No, but you know, you went to the bar for a reason.”

“And I left for a million more,” you frowned.

Tom pursed his lips and took out the paper again, trying to make out whatever he’d written before. “I’m really sorry.” His eyes traced through the note.

“Are you genuinely trying to read it? Don’t you know what you’re supposed to apologize for?”

Tom looked up, “So you do want me to apologize?”

The guy with the backpack squeezed his eyes shut, knowing Tom had fucked up.

“You’re kidding, right? Yes, you have to apologize, what you did is really, really shitty!” You pointed out.

“But you won’t forgive me, then?” Tom watched you.

“I don’t know,” you said and he looked up, a beaming gaze. “No, I won’t.”

He wrinkled his eyes, “I… I know I’m supposed to apologize, not to expect you to forgive. I'm just…”

He gulped, and then sat back, staring at the dirty walls and lights. He had dressed up. Badly, but he had tried looking good, you could tell. You could smell his lotion, too.

He was fiddling with the paper, crumpling up and then it fell to the floor. You looked at it and somehow related to it, not sure how.

You took a deep breath so you wouldn’t kill him and turned to him. “I have questions for you, if you answer them I might consider listening to you.”

Tom’s eyes brightened up. “Yes, yes, anything.”

You eyed him up and down as he watched you with begging eyes. You avoided his gaze. Tom followed your gaze as you tried to figure out what was the first thing you could ask him. Why had he hurt you?

Why did he not stop and think before making you fall in love with him?

Why did he not stop and tell you the truth?

“Where are you staying?” You asked,

Tom blinked. “Is that… is that the question?”

“No, but I know you don’t know how to fucking get anywhere,” you said.

Tom gulped, “I… uh, again with Harrison,” he explained.

You sighed. You remembered Harrison alright. And though there was a petty part inside you, you would help him out. Knowing he’d always get lost in the city. Though you could let him get lost, so you’d have to go after him and spend a bit more time. With an excuse, because you didn’t seem to have any excuse to be with him.

It hurt. What hurt the most was trying not to look back at the incredible moments you had because none of them were true.

You sighed. “Okay, when we get down you’ll take the F train—“

Tom stopped you, taking your hand. “No, wait, I don’t care if I get lost, okay, I… I just.”

You snatched your hand away from his cold hands he had. You darkened your gaze at him.

“Please, Y/n, I just need a chance. If you don’t want to listen… maybe I’ll just…” He handed you the note.

You crossed your arms, and tapped your foot, trying to decide whether or not to give it to him. “Fine,” you took the note.

You've gotten to your stop. So you stood up.

The girl with the book and the guy with the backpack watched you both as you walked out, pitying they couldn’t follow the drama.

Tom followed after you, he licked his lips. “You… you had questions, right?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, taking yet another heavy breath. You turned on your feet to look at him “One, did you lie to me?”

Tom was taken back by this, his eyes, consternated, only watched you. He gulped. “What?”

“Did you lie to me?

“I… well.”

You were getting desperate. “Did you ?”

“I didn’t lie about how I felt,” he said. You knew he wasn’t lying about it. He couldn’t. He couldn’t have ever lied about how he felt because you knew he had felt it too, a bit, at least,

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“I mean it, I…” Tom gulped. “I really liked you.”

“Yeah, I know, you liked me yadda, yadda,” you started. Liked not loved. “Cut the bullshit for once, did you or did you not lie to me?”

Tom took a deep breath. “Yes. But I had feelings for you.”

You bit your inner cheeks. “Uh-huh, yes, okay, good, yes, you acknowledge it. So, we have two statements here, Tom. You say you had feelings yet you lied to me,” you squinted. “Sounds-”

Tom gulped and avoided your gaze. “I know yes,” he looked down. “But, if you give me-”

“Ah, buh-buh, nope, I’m just gathering my thoughts here,” you coughed. “I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me what you felt.”

Tom shook his head in confusion. “I—I’m”

“Go on,” you motioned your hand.

“Y/N,” he said. And the way he dared to say your name was like having a knife right through you. “I had—I have feelings for you,” he said looking right into your eyes.

He didn’t say what feelings.

You were not sure where you wanted to go with this. “Fine, my next question…” you really didn’t know where this was going. “So, alright, you…” You couldn’t even phrase it. “You… made me fall in love with you knowing….Well, we both know what you did. What you hid from me. You’re a liar who made me—“

Tom took a deep breath. “Yes, but I didn’t… plan that.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, so it’s my fault?” You stepped back. “Sorry for developing feelings for you. Sorry for ruining your life—“

Tom closed his eyes, “No, no, look, I… wasn’t. I didn’t come here expecting to meet you, I didn’t want… It just happened, okay, I never thought—You're making it sound like it’s some big master plan. I—I never planned—I never would’ve ever planned on hurting you.”

You watched him, incredulous. “Thomas you do realize what you did to me?”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t! You’re trying to make me seem like I’m crazy for not even wanting to talk to you!” You called him out.

“I’m not, I’m just saying that if you’re here—you must miss it too, you know it was too real, and you want it back, possibly—M-maybe not, but if you came to the bar tonight it was in hopes of finding me again because you knew I’d be there, and you want to feel how you felt before, and i just… you know I miss it and that you knew I didn’t lie—“

You glared at him. “You did lie!”

“Okay—yes, yes I did—But not entirely, I just happened to omit one truth—“

“One very important truth,” you snarked.

“Fine but—please listen,” he tried to convince you. “and I’m sorry, okay? I—I didn’t want to hurt you. But I never planned this. It just happened. I didn’t come here expecting to fall in love with anyone, I didn’t come here trying to date, and I never expected it to be someone as complex—“

“Complex?”

“Yes, I never came to New York trying to find the most mental relationship I’ve ever had—“

“Mental?” You snapped.

“Yes! I love you but you’re fucking crazy! And I am too! I’m fucking crazy and mental but I—I—I loved being crazy and mental with you! We are fucking mental! Driving to nowhere? Breaking into places? Getting a jukebox on the subway? That’s mental! But—but I love that about you, alright? Don’t you get it? I could’ve stayed in London, I could've been the asshole who just ditched you and lied to you—“

You scoffed. “Well that’s comforting!”

“But I’m—I’m here, ain’t I? And I know I fucked up, I know, I accept that, I’m the asshole here, and I know you’ll never—I hid it from you because I didn’t know what was going on, I didn’t even get it myself. I’m here to give you my version of it. I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you…I am…,I am in love with you, and I never planned that, I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with someone else, it just happened. I may have thought it was just—Some fling, initially.”

You laughed cynically. “A fling.”

He gulped. “And the moment I realized what was really going on—”

“You left, that’s what you fucking did, when you realized it was way too real for you, you destroyed the one real thing you’ve ever known,” you barked, he stepped back. “I fell in love with you, I—I—and then you ditched me, and I thought that was the worst thing you could ever do to me but then I realized that it wasn’t real! I—you were never mine, Tom! I simply was—a break you needed or—a fling.”

“It wasn’t that—“

You watched him. Looking so innocent, kind eyes and tender lips. You would’ve believed him had he come before.

“You used me!” You snapped, the words that had wanted to come for a while just blurted out. “I just can’t believe you,” you said. “You don’t feel sorry.” You shook your head, your voice was cracking. “You're not sorry because you don’t understand. You don’t know what I went through, and if you had come earlier, if you hadn’t left me, I probably would have believed you. But—No! No!” You stepped back. “No!”

“I did call! You never picked up the phone! I tried—“Tom started.

“Was I really expected to pick it up? Let’s get back to it. Shall we? The facts. Did you or did you not date me? And made me fall in love with you?”

Tom sighed. “I—yes.”

“Did you lie?”

“…yes.”

You nodded. “Was I the other one?”

Tom squinted his eyes. “No… yes, no.”

You took a deep breath. “Did you leave me without an explanation?”

Tom looked down. “I did.”

“Did you ditch me?”

Tom looked everywhere and nowhere. “Yes,” he answered, defeated.

“Now, do you think I can ever forgive you?”

Tom didn’t answer.

You reached for your purse, for the locket that dug deep inside. “I don’t know you,” you stated giving him the locket, the stupid locket you’d bought as a joke when making fun of other couples and now laughed in your face. “Whatever happened means nothing. Because that’s the thing Tom. Everything we lived was a lie, those two people in the locket are not us, because you weren’t who you said you were, no matter how much I loved it, it’s not true and though it was too many emotions all at once I’m—It’s not real, not for you. I spent this whole time thinking I wanted you to apologize but I don’t want it. That charming guy wasn’t truly you because you omitted one very important thing. You—What were you thinking? Were you planning to never say it? Or did you plan it like that? Just ditching me, hoping I wouldn’t find out—“

Tom took a deep breath. “No—No, I didn’t. I just—-I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you and I should’ve fixed it before—-“

“No, no you didn’t because it wasn’t enough for you.”

Tom gulped, “It was, it was—-the best thing I’ve ever had.”

“And you ruined it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“How little words mean when you’re a little too late, huh?” And that was the cue you needed to walk away. He silently watched you as you tried not to cry.

“I’m really sorry.” He said.

Was he?

“What if I try to prove it to you?” He asked as you were steps away from him.

You didn’t stop.

“If we go over this, you’ll see I never lied about it.” He continued.

“I already went over it, I remember everything, Tom, and maybe that’s why I don't want to talk to you.”

Tom walked behind, slowly. “I just happened to be very unlucky when it came to my own circumstances,” he reached over. “And I wish the timing had been better. But you’re right, it’s the one real thing I’ve ever had and I lost it because I hid something in fear of losing you. I lied because it was too good to be true. And I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me but I think you deserve to know why. But you went to the bar for a reason, and you had the locket for another.”

You stopped this time. Looking down at the floor and then at his hand, holding your stupid scarf. You shook your head, you really didn’t want to go through it all over again.

“I know you won’t forgive me,” he stated. “But I can’t let you go. You’re everywhere. And I miss the person I was when you were around, and I won’t stop fighting because you’re everywhere. Dreams, nightmares.”

Funny. You were his demons too.

“Am I haunting your nightmares?” You asked. Tom only watched you.

He took a deep breath. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I just need—I really need you to listen to my version.”

“Fine then, let’s go down this sad, beautiful tragic love affair.”

-

next chapter

want to be tagged?(please say it's for red)

tag list and some friends: @noorrussell @nocturnalms @xxconfettiitsaparade @annathesillyfriend @butterflies-glitter @tomkindholland @the-salty-asian @words-to-accomplish-something @harryhollandsgirlfriend @bibliophilewednesday @tomhollandsbitch8 @boiolay @wizkiddx @spideyssunshine @parkertommy @erodasghosts @onewithnomightypowers @sunflowersandaydreams @tomshufflepuff @uglypastels @lilacsandwhiskey @badhollandfluff @saintlavrents @enilemes @white-wolf1940 @mannien @softholand @youcompletemesk @ughdangs@obiwanownsmyass @sleepingdancer @lonely-sag @n-pg-pw @readheadwriter @parkersroses @petesrparker

[joaquinwhorres]

Fic Writer Tag Game

I was tagged by the embodiment of sunshine @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle, the queen of edits @sgtbuckyybarnes, and the master of puns @akabluekat

Also, as much as I love everything AO3 stands for, I find FFN more user friendly & I've used it longer, so I'm giving my stats on both.

How many works do you have on AO3? 14! (I have 17 on FFN though.)

What’s your total AO3 word count? 169,469 (274,779 on FFN)

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they? I've written for 12 fandoms: Harry Potter, Avengers, Stranger Things, Star Trek, The Umbrella Academy, Newsies, Inception, Covenant, Hobbit, SyFy's Alice, Riverdale, and Charmed.

What are your top five fics by kudos AO3?

The Dating Game (Diego Hargreeves x Reader) - 123

Dangerous (Steve Harrington x Reader) - 94

Gazes (Joaquín Torres x Reader) - 80

Public Knowledge (Sweet Pea x Reader) - 73

The Fool (Fred Weasley x OC) - 55

What are your top five fics by follows on FFN?

Parting Shot (Clint Barton x OC) - 572

Living Memory (Clint Barton x OC) - 129

Second Wind (Pietro Maximoff x OC) - 125

Whispers in the Dark (Reid Garwin x OC) - 122

The Fool (Fred Weasley x OC) - 75

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? It depends. If a comment asks a question or the person put a whole paragraph of writing into the comment, I'll respond. If it was something quick and surface level that didn't take a lot of thought, I'll generally just smile and move along.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I haven't written it yet but Volatile Measures gets pretty angsty towards the end because it's canon compliant.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest one you’ve written? I've only ever written one crossover and didn't really end up liking it, so--no!

Have you ever received hate on a fic? I've got some charity reviews on FFN cuz of Tumblr drama, but otherwise not really!

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? uh kinda? I'm trying to work up the courage to put it in my stories.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yup. I had some Stranger Things fics stolen and copied to wattpad which was really annoying and also the reason why I hate wWattpad.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope. If you want to, please let me know!

What’s your all-time favorite ship? Taylor Markham and Jonah Griggs from On the Jellicoe Road. But like in fandoms I usually like OCs better. Right now my favorite ship of mine is Mattie Crenshaw + George Weasley.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will? All of them. Although Mind Over Matter is one that I had great ideas and plans for and now just can't seem to find where they all went.

What are your writing strengths? What are your writing weaknesses? I'm pretty kickass at dialogue. And planning. I actually have each of my HP stories plotted on a calendar to make sure things unfold realistically and I remember canon events. My writing weaknesses? Actually writing and following through on my great ideas.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I do this in some of my fics, but I tend to only make it a few lines at most and easy enough to understand in context so the reader doesn't have to run to Google Translate or down to the notes. I try to only write in languages I speak or understand. Even then, I check what I write with Reddit to see if it's actually natural. Otherwise I note the language that's being spoken but keep it in English.

What was the first fandom you’ve written for? The first fandom I wrote for was Harry Potter because I co-wrote a fic with a friend, but the first fandom I ever wrote in by myself was Newsies.

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written? It changes day to day. My favorite completed fic I've ever written is Parting Shot, but that's also because it's the only fic I've ever completed.

I am tagging: @raith-way @hiddenqveendom @asirensrage @zeleniafic @barbied-wire @decennia & anyone who wants me to read their fic

[snarkwrites]

Song Fic: remember you young; matt saracen

Notes:

Again... I loved the Friday Night Lights tv series. Idk whether I like Tim, Landry or Matt the most though, oops rip. This got sent to the ask of my main and so, when I created this blog, i wanted to be sure it got moved here.

Summary:

The one in which Matt and Julie are over and Matt’s at a class reunion alone. Enter former classmate Cat, who he seems to slightly connect with. Awkward and cute fluff.

Warnings:

uhh.. angst and mentions of alcohol?

Pairing: 

Matt Saracen x OFC, Cat

Hey buddies that I grew up with

All straight laced and married up now

You ain’t foolin’ me, wasn’t long ago

We tore the roof off that one red light town

It just didn’t feel right. His eyes darted around the crowded gym and a few times, when his eyes met with someone he remembered from back then, he’d nod and wave and quickly divert his gaze. He was dreading it, the inevitable.

At some point tonight, someone was going to ask him what happened between him and Julie Taylor. Just thinking about it had his stomach churning. He turned, almost as if he were about to walk out of the gymnasium before anyone got the chance to do so, but he wound up colliding with Tim Riggins and his wife.

“Saracen! What’s good, man?”

… don’t ask about Julie, don’t ask about Julie… the thought repeated in Matt’s brain over and over. Tim seemed to realize something was up and he just kind of gave Matt the nod and sighed.

He thought for sure Tim wouldn’t ask, but after a beer or two five minutes later, while Tati was out on the dance floor with Tyra and Landry, Tim asked it, catching his gaze.

“It true Julie left you, man?”

Matt tried to shrug it off but Tim wasn’t having it.

“Sometimes shit happens. Sometimes people grow apart.”

… yeah, coming from a guy who found his other half… the thought echoed around bitterly in Matt’s brain. A gentle jolt from behind had him turning.

Tati was squeezing herself between him and Tim, pulling Tim into a laugh filled kiss. As the kiss broke, Tati cleared her throat and nodded at the blonde who’d bumped into Matt, directing her gaze at him. “You never met my friend Cat… Did you?”

“He probably didn’t, darlin, you met her in college.” Tim was pulling Tati closer and giving Matt a mischievous smirk as he added, “But Cat did go to Dillon with us. And you two kinda have a history…”

The blonde seemed to come out of her own deep thoughts and raised the wine glass in her hand to her lips, taking a long sip. Matt followed the path of the glass and chose to settle for gazing into her eyes rather than at her lips or the way the red from the wine seemed to tint them burgundy. It hit him then that he did remember her, Landry tried to set them up on a double date when he was dating Tyra.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.” Matt muttered, a tight half smile forming. He wanted to smile but it just.. It still didn’t feel right. He was still getting used to his situation as a whole.

…. it’s been a year, man. If she were going to come back, she would’ve… she’s moved on, why can’t you?…

Cat laughed. “Yeah, it has. I’ve been all over. This is the first time I’ve been back to Dillon since graduation.” she took another sip of her wine, taking the chance to sort of stare at Matt while he was distracted and lost in his own thoughts. She’d always thought he was handsome. The years had been kind to him. Very kind.

She almost asked him where Julie was, because the rumor mill put them as having been living together in Chicago, but something about the look in his eyes when his eyes met hers stopped her just shy of saying anything.

And it wasn’t her business anyway.

Someone called her name and she looked in that direction and quickly back up at Matt, giggling.

“I have to go collect this bitch before she starts table dancin.” Cat took a deep breath. Being around Matt, being reunited with all her old friends from high school really, it was just what she needed. She felt less alone. She bit her lip and flashed one last smile. “Okay, alright.. Lemme just go do a body shot with Tiff for old times sake, but Matt?”

Matt bit his lip as soon as he realized that she was stepping closer, her hand resting against his chest gingerly, almost as if she weren’t sure it was okay. He leaned in a little to hear her better over the music and the laughing and shouting of their peers. “Yeah?”

“I’m gonna find you in a little bit and we’re gonna dance our asses off, hon.” Cat wanted to pat herself on the back as soon as it left her mouth because if she’d been just a tenth of this smooth and self assured in high school then just maybe…

… maybe I would’ve gotten the guts to make a move back then before he got with Julie Taylor and they went on to have the train wreck they called a relationship… the thought finished itself in her mind as she skipped away, shoving through a crowd of her old friends to the front of the ‘bar set up’ at the front of the gym where her old friend Tiffany was about to do a few body shots.

Tim chuckled from beside him and gave him a nudge, nodding in Cat’s direction. “Always thought maybe if you gave ‘er a chance…” he shrugged mildly. Matt sighed, shaking his head. He felt conflicted.

“Do you really wanna just sit around and wait? Your whole life is gonna pass you by that way, man.” Tim pointed it out as he held out a beer to Matt. Matt took the beer and popped the top against the side of the table they were sitting at, taking a few sips as he thought about what Tim just said.

“No.”

“Then go over there, Saracen. Get your ass back in the game.” Tim coaxed, giving Matt a smirk as he stood and started to walk towards the area of the gym Cat vanished to earlier. It wasn’t hard to spot her, she was the one out on the gym floor barefoot with a bottle of wine in her hand, dancing with two or three other girls that Matt only vaguely remembered from his senior year. They were all laughing and talking over each other.

Her best friend with the red hair spotted him slipping up on Cat and she leaned in, whispering something into Cat’s ear. Cat turned and lazily wrapped her arms around Matt’s neck and drawled lazily, “Room’s s-spinnin, Matty.”

Matt snickered and gingerly put his hands on her waist to keep her on her feet as he leaned down and whispered against her ear, “You wanna take a walk or somethin, Cat?”

“I’d actually l-love that.”

And no matter how much time goes by

And no matter how much we grow up

For worse or for better, from now ‘til forever

I’ll always remember you young

The sun was just starting to come up. They’d been walking around town, they hadn’t stopped talking for hours. Now they were standing on Matt’s old porch. The air was full of crackling electric tension and Matt was trying to get himself to make some kind of move.

Cat rose to tiptoe and gingerly planted a kiss at the corner of his mouth, giving a quiet giggle. “Are you back in town for a while, Matty?”

“For a few weeks, yeah. Julie’s.. She’s comin back to our loft in Chicago to get her stuff. Said it’d be too hard for her to do this if she saw me there.”

Cat bit her lip and nodded, hugging against him a little more, pausing to look up at him. “For what it’s worth, I never really saw you two workin. And if I had a rewind button, maybe I would’ve tried to get to know you better when Landry was tryin to set us up… I wish I had.”

She was lowering back down and Matt wrapped his arms around her, pulling her off the worn wooden floorboards slightly, crashing his lips against hers. “It’s not too late, darlin.”

“No, it isn’t.” Cat mused, sighing into the kiss. “But maybe we need to take it slow. Even though God knows I don’t wanna.”

“Me either.”

[allylikethecat]

no but you know where the city is absolutely slaps tho. looking forward to the update <3

(and sorry about the heat, that sounds absolutely miserable)

Awww I'm so glad that you like You Know Where the City Is!! It's my favorite that I'm working on (even though I know we're not supposed to have favorite children...) but I know the whole Matty x Taylor thing has been very divisive in the fandom... even though I would like it to be known this fic existed before ~whatever~ that was between them!

I plan to have the update up within the next little bit! I'm just making sure the chapter is formated correctly on AO3 (I say as if I am capable of formatting it the way I want regardless- I am not good at formatting lol) You'll have to let me know what you think once its posted (please let me know what you think once it's posted...)

And thank you!!! It's monsoon season, and it has NOT MONSOONED yet, so everything is just building and building and getting hotter and hotter. I rode my horse at 5:30am this morning and it was already 91 degrees out and I wanted to die. It's just too hot to function currently, I basically just ride my horse in the dark, go to work, then come home and sit in the dark in the AC working on fic because its too hot to go and do anything else! But the fact that the weather where I live is absolutely perfect the other 9-10 months out of the year makes this little bit of misery worth it- I'm just going to complain about it a bit because I can!

Thank you so much for the ask and for reading and being generally awesome! I hope you enjoy the update!

❤️Ally

[allylikethecat]

You know, the more I see stuff on Twitter, the more I’m like !!! That I posted the very FIRST Matthew Healy / Taylor Swift tagged fic on AO3 and that I managed to do so BEFORE they started dating publicly. Like what are the odds?

[allylikethecat]

Please post the fic asap, the 1975 tag is inundated with t swift fics 😬😬😬

Haha I will soon! I'm now second guessing myself now that I am more awake and want to give it a few more read throughs!

And on the topic of Taylor fics... I do have a chapter of my Taylor x Matty 2014 Fake Dating AU that I'm hoping to have fully ready soon 😂

Thank you so much for reading and for your support! I hope you enjoy the next installment of the A&E fic - when I do post it you will have to let me know what you think!

❤️Ally

[allylikethecat]

just wanted to let you know I really liked the most recent instalment of On a Friday ! Hoping we get one one for you know where the city is soon! But whatever you provide us will be great!,,

Oh my gosh thank you so much!!! I'm so happy to hear that you enjoyed the new chapter! I had a lot of fun working on it and was really pleased with how it came out, so I've been EXTRA grateful and EXTRA excited about all of this lovely, wonderful feedback I have received. Thank you so, so much for not only taking the time to read my fics, but to send me an ask as well!!

I'm not sure exactly when the next You Know Where the City Is update is going to happen, but I was working on the new chapter today 👀 I came up with a little detail that related back to some lyrics and I was just like !!! staring at my computer as I worked on it lol BUT just because progress has been made, doesn't mean it will be post ready anytime soon. I'm actually not sure *which* fic is going to have its next chapter edited and finalized for Tuesday yet... just know it is NOT going to be the Christmas Fic because I think I emotionally damaged myself working on the last one and I am still healing 😂

Thank you so much for being so reading, sending in such wonderful kind asks, for the continued support and just being all around lovely!! I hope your Wednesday was as wonderful as you are, and I hope the rest of your week is just as great!!

❤️Ally

[allylikethecat]

hiiii ally hope you had a good monday

i was wondering how much of the ducklings you have outlined? and so you have plans to post a new chapter soon

im dying for some comfort among all the hurt fictional!matty has been experiencing

Happy Monday! I hope you had / are having a good days as well! At this point in time, my outline is at thirty five chapters for Make Way for Ducklings with various key plot points noted including the ending. However, things have gotten a little hazy - chapters twelve, thirteen, and fourteen were all originally one chapter according to the outline and they ended up NOT being one chapter, meaning that while I was planning for thirty five chapters, it will probably end up being a tad longer than that (unless I end up cutting some stuff which is also a possibility.)

I am working on the next chapter of Make Way for Ducklings - chapter fifteen is in the middle stages of completion (maybe about 45-50% finished), and it will hopefully be finished and post ready soon- my goal is by the end of the week!

I do however plan to post the next chapter of the A&E Fic tomorrow (I'm feeling weirdly attached to Tuesday updates for that one right now) and I have the next chapter of You Know Where the City Is (My Matty x Taylor 2014 Fake Dating AU that I started before whatever that April/May situation was) about 75% finished, meaning that will probably be up first!

I also want to apologize for all of the hurt fictional!Matty has been experience because the hurt train continues in the A&E fic, and the Fake Dating Fic (though it's from Taylor's perspective and she's oblivious) ... it also so far is continuing in the next Make Way for Ducklings chapter because Matty has a hard time getting out of his own way. 😬 I have a whole batch of prompt fill requests though I'm hoping to also work on this week/next week and those are for sure more heavy on the comfort part of the hurt/comfort situation.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading! I'm happy to hear that you're enjoying Make Way for Ducklings and can't wait to hear what you think of the next chapter once I get my act together! 🥰 I've said it before, but I was so nervous when I initially posted it, but the response has been so wonderful and kind, for which I am endlessly thankful! (Sorry this got really long!)

❤️Ally