#i think a story should be experienced as a story instead of descriptions

[borathae]

"If there is one thing you love to do, it is to pamper your boyfriend. So when Yoongi has been feeling especially stressed lately, you decide that it is time to treat him like the precious prince he is."

Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x Witch!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, polyamory!AU, domestic Fluff, Smut

Warnings: a stressed!Yoongi, she pampers him, casual nudity, this story consists of two parts: one fluffy and one smutty, the next warnings are for the smutty part, morning cuddles which lead to sex, sleepy & subby!Yoongi, service Dom!Reader, handjob in spooning position, little spoon!Yoongi heheh, neck kisses, gentle choking, praise, loving dirty talk, nipple play, blowjob, cum licking, overstimulation, a lil bit of gentle CBT, he is a painslut so he loves it, multiple orgasms for him, hand holding, he is sensitive & loves being touched <3

Wordcount: 10.4K

a/n: istfg i love men jfasjdfja okay that is a lie, i love men like mv!boongie <3 my precious prince <3 also lmao if someone tries to look up the definition of oral fixation, my name would show up ajdjfa like. can i write something other than oral sex? i don't fucking think so ahahah i'm telling you this stems from my childhood addiction of sucking my own thumb every chance i got until i was thirteen ahaha that shit shaped my frontal cortex or whatever part of the brain is in charge of kink development jsjdf

You like trying out new things. Especially when those new things involve surprising your amazing, wonderful, lovely boyfriend Yoongi.

Today, you left a little something in his wing to find. A letter, telling him of how much you wanted to be with him tonight including a very detailed description of your plans and your location shall he want the same.

Yoongi should be out for most of the day, training with Jungkook and later meeting up with some of his creations in town to go over future plans of strengthening the vampire community. With Namjoon’s followers mostly gone and their Creator hidden from the world, the community has been brittle. Attacks on peaceful vampire communities by hostile werewolves or witches became way too common in cities where peace was already brittle to begin with. Yoongi and his followers are currently creating strategies which will ensure the peace without cities breaking into a full supernatural civil war. Which means that he is a very busy man lately, coming home later than usual and with little energy left to cook. He feels really bad about it, even if you keep ensuring him that it was never his responsibility to feed you and that you can cook for yourself while he relaxed.

It worked for a little while until he began stressing out over not being able to cook on top of all the other stress he is currently experiencing. Truly, if he didn’t posses supernatural healing you are sure that he would have already greyed by now from all the stressing he has been doing these past few weeks.

But you want to change that tonight. You want him to feel so relaxed that stress ceases to be part of his vocabulary. 

By now, it’s already way past eight. Yoongi should have been home for at least thirty minutes. You want to check on him, but are scared to ruin the letter surprise this way. So you take out your phone and text Jungkook instead.

He answers you ten minutes later.

-          Baby ♡: I don’t know if he’s home yet. I’ve been home since six ♡♡♡

-          Baby ♡: I’m sorry baby ♡♡♡

-          You: It’s fine. Don’t worry about it ♡♡♡

-          Baby ♡: Are you scared that something happened? ♡♡♡

-          You: No, but I have a surprise for him ♡♡♡

-          Baby ♡: ooooooh *o* a surprise *O*

-          You: yeah… :D I wrote him a letter telling him to come to my wing if he wanted to have a spa day ♡♡♡

-          Baby ♡: wowie *^* spa days are so nice ♡♡♡ I’m sure he’ll be home soon heh ♡♡♡

-          You: yeah probably ♡♡♡

-          Baby ♡: hehe ♡♡♡♡

You send him one more round of hearts and then place the phone aside, turning your attention back to the task at hand. The surprise has been prepared, which means that you have free time and what better way to use said free time than to do some gardening in the greenhouse.

Only easy tasks like pruning the roses and picking off dead leaves from your wisteria. You don’t want to get too dirty in case Yoongi comes home.

The man of the hour comes home only a few moments after you texted Jungkook. You are currently in the back of the greenhouse, looking at the perfectly pruned roses when he calls out for you.

“___?”

Your heart flutters. He is here. Hopefully he read the letter first before coming here. It would make the surprise all the more exciting.

“My love, are you here?”

“I’m coming!”

You meet him in the middle. Right where you shared so many breakfasts together. 

Like always lately, the heaviness of a long and stressful day drags down his shoulders. It is so obvious to you these days, now that you know him so well. 

“Hello there, my prince”, you greet him, opening your arms. 

“Hey”, he says, falling into the hug gladly. He even buries his face in the crook of your neck and releases a loud sigh. It was the kind of sigh which sheds the heart of sorrow.

“Did you have a good day?”

“No.”

“Gosh, I’m sorry. Lots of stress?”

“Yeah”, he murmurs into you, tickling your skin with the timbre of his voice, “did you eat already?”

“I did. Don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t cook. I promise I’ll make time on the weekend. I just have so much to do and I just”, he stops talking to sigh instead, pressing himself closer to you, “I’m tired”, he confesses in a whisper.

“Don’t worry about it, my love. I don’t want you to think that feeding me is your job. I can cook for myself, okay?”

“I guess.”

“Well, I can”, you assure him and squeeze him gently, “did you get my letter?" 

“Letter?”

“Yes, I left it on your bed.”

“No, I wasn’t in my wing yet. I came straight to you.”

“Oh okay. Mhm sad, I wanted to surprise you.”

“I can go right now. I’m sorry, I have so much to do. I didn’t have time yet and I-”

“Hush, it’s okay”, you stop him, massaging his scalp gently.

Yoongi lets out a sound of defeat and murmurs into your neck, “I’m gonna cry. I don’t know for how long I can still do this.”

“Oh Yoongi, I’m sorry you feel this way”, you say and give him a squeeze, “do you have to work again tomorrow?”

“No, they’ll be gone till next week. But I have to do so much work at home. There’s so much shit to go through and, and people to call and I don’t wanna.”

“Okay, I see. At least you can plan your time how you want to tomorrow. Yeah?” 

“I guess.”

He doesn’t sound convinced, which you can’t blame him for.

“I prepared a few things for you if you want to. I promise it will relax you.”

“What do you mean?” he lifts his head, staring at you with bloodshot eyes, “why did you prepare something?”

“Because you’re stressed and I wanna spoil you.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? Because I want to and you deserve it.”

“Okay?”

“Mh-hm, now come along. I’ll give you the best spa night ever.” 

“Really?” he gets out, stumbling after you. 

“Yes, really.”

“But why me?”

“Because you’re my love.”

“Oh.”

You lead him to your bathroom. You talk as you walk. 

“It would make a lot more sense if you read my letter. I was being really cheesy in it and talked all about how I’ll make you feel like a king.”

“Oh. Okay”, he is shy. You know that he is.

“Yeah and then I told you to come find me in my wing. Which is why I asked you if you read my letter.”

“Sorry. I wanted to see you first."

“That’s okay. I should have figured. I’m just glad that you’re home safe”, you tell him and turn. You have reached your closed bathroom door, “close your eyes.”

“Okay?” Yoongi says and follows. 

“Don’t peek.”

“I won’t.”

You open the door and take both his hands afterwards. You guide him into the room. Yoongi sniffles instantly.

“It smells good.”

“Don’t look yet. Okay?”

“I’m not. I’m just saying.” 

You place him just a little away from the door so you could close it. Then you snap your fingers, lighting the dozens and dozens of candles in the room. Being a witch fucking rocks. You don’t even have to work for romantic lighting, you just have to snap your fingers. With a another snap of your fingers the record player starts playing Yoongi’s favourite album for relaxation. His lips curls into a smile. 

“I know that song”, he says with happiness in his voice.

“Yeah, definitely. Don’t peek.”

“For how long? What are you doing?”

“Soon.”

“You’re making it so suspenseful.”

One last snap of your fingers to turn off the main lights. 

“Okay. Open your eyes.”

Yoongi follows, looking around the warmly lit room. You filled the bathtub with water and rose petals, mixing in your most relaxing bathing oils. On the side table, a glass of his favourite whiskey cocktail is waiting and you prepared his most comfortable pyjamas to wear. You also created a big bouquet of flowers, which he knows for a fact you will want him to keep in his wing. You love getting him flowers and he loves receiving them even he gets incredibly shy because of it.

“Princess”, he gets out, looking at you with sparkly eyes. They look so close to tearing up.

“Surprise”, you say, stretching your arms above your head, “it was pretty obvious what I’ll do in the bathroom, but surprise.”

Yoongi looks away and at the room again, touching his own tummy as he does. His eyes sparkle in the candlelight.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes. Thank you so much”, he says and nods his head.

You close the distance and hug him. Yoongi hugs you back instantly, hiding his face in your neck like always. 

“I’m happy that you love it. I have a lot more prepared. So I hope that you’re ready.”

“I am”, he mumbles, “thank you so much.”

“Hm”, you hum and pat his butt, “you have to get naked for the bath.”

“I know. Can I do it alone?”

“Of course. I’ll be by the sink preparing the facial.”

“What did you prepare?”

“Just something nice. I looked up a tutorial. Trust me, I’m a professional skincarer now.” 

“Skincarer isn’t even an actual word”, Yoongi says in a laugh as he is slowly getting naked. 

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll give you the best facial ever.”

“You’re aware of how that sounds, right?”

“Oh, I know. If you had read my letter, you would know that I have prepared a spicy section too if you are still awake after my super duper king spa treatment special.”

Yoongi chuckles, “okay, I’ll try to stay awake.”

“No pressure though. Tonight’s about you. I can do it tomorrow too or whenever you’re in the mood.”

“Okay. Ah shit.”

You turn, “what happened?”

He is by the bath, buttnaked and with his toe wet.

“The water’s cold”, he says.

“I know. I didn’t know when you’d be back, so I filled it with cold water. Don’t worry, I’ll warm it up”, you say and hurry to him. You stick your right hand into the water and mumble the magical words. Your eyes glow golden for just a moment before your hand gets a fiery shine to it. The water warms up slowly and you only stop once it is giving of a gentle steam.

“Test it now”, you tell him.

Yoongi lifts his foot and lowers it into the water, “good”, he says and steps inside the bathtub. He lowers himself, pushing the water aside. It reaches him just a little over his nipples once he is submerged entirely.

“There we go. Are you comfy?” you ask him.

He is looking up at you with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms hugging them, “can I have it a little warmer, please?” he asks shyly.

“Of course”, you say, sticking your hand back into the water, “I’ll go slow, so tell me once it’s good for you.”

“Okay.”

Your eyes glow, your hand shines and soon the water begins warming up more and more. The relaxing oils activate with the magical heat, tainting the water milky and filling Yoongi’s nose with a wonderful smell. He feels droopy and oh so relaxed because of it. Yoongi lets you warm the water for a few moments, staring at your face with a fluttering tummy. He is so, so happy about the surprise and he loves it so much. Even if he is too tired to show his true excitement, he is bursting in it. Truly, he feels so lucky to be with you.

“Okay, stop”, he says.

“Got it.”

You stand up and dry your hand on the towel you laid out for Yoongi. Then you hurry to the back of him, placing your hands on his shoulders.

“Lean back.”

He does so without resistance, letting out a surprised gasp when his head sinks into a soft cushion. The water reaches him a little under his neck now.

“Huh?” he sneaks a glance at the pillow..

“Is it comfy?”

“Yeah, really. Where did you get that?”

“Internet. I purchased it a few weeks ago, but never got to using it. Do you like it?”

“Yeah”, he says and relaxes his entire body. He even stretches out his legs and closes his eyes, “thank you for this”, he whispers.

“Don’t thank me too soon. Are you ready for your super duper king special treatment facial?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice, just tell me if you need anything else. Your favourite cocktail’s on the table.”

“Yeah, thank you”, he says and reaches for it. He spills some water on the ground, but that doesn’t matter right now. He drinks his cocktail while you gather the skincare products. “it tastes good”, he tells you.

“Yeah? That’s good to hear.”

Yoongi places it aside and submerges his arm back in the warm water. Then he lets his head fall into the cushion, looking up at you that way. You place your hand on his forehead so you could brush his hair out of his face. You secure a headband around his head, making sure to reveal his entire forehead to you. His eyes fall closed instantly, his lips part as a relaxed sigh leaves him.

“I’ll get started now, yeah?”

“Just do whatever, as long as I don’t gotta talk.”

“Don’t worry, no more talking”, you assure him and smooch his forehead, “relax my love, I’m getting started.”

You start off the treatment by cleaning off the day with a gentle oil cleanser.

“Are you putting oil on my face?” he asks, trying to move away at the unfamiliar feeling, but you stop him with a firm hand on his forehead.

“Yes, it’s called double cleansing. Trust me.”

“Okay?”

“Trust me.”

“I am, just feels weird”, he mumbles as he relaxes again.

“It’ll help.”

Once you washed off the oil, you use a soft smelling foam cleanser. Yoongi sniffles vividly as you spread it on his face, voicing his liking for it with a low hum. You wipe the foam away with a warm towel, making sure to be extra careful around the eyes. 

Once he is clean and patted dry, you begin with the true treatment. You spread a soothing toner with a cotton pad on his face and follow it up with a serum. You know that physically it is impossible for his skin to show signs of exhaustion, age or stress. Hell, he can’t even get impurities because his healing powers prevent him from getting them. But you still believe that a good calming serum will do his skin good. Even if it’s just to help relax his mind. 

After the serum, a sheet mask follows. 

“Ah, hey”, he gasps and opens his eyes, “that’s wet”, he complains, trying to move away again.

“It’s a sheet mask. Close your eyes and stop moving.”

“Does all of that even do anything?”

“Yes, it’ll relax you and make your face glow. Close your eyes.”

Yoongi follows, even if hesitant at first, but begins to relax again when you run your fingers over his face in order to smooth out the mask. It tingles so nicely.

“Okay, that’ll have to stay on your face for twenty minutes. Do you want a head massage in the mean-”

“Yes”, Yoongi interrupts you.

You chuckle, “I take this as a clear yes”, you say and wash your fingers in the bath water. You dry them on the towel and then return to your spot behind him. 

You start off by opening the headband and keeping his hair off his forehead with a warm hand on his head. 

“I watched a lot of tutorials on head massages, so get ready for the best massage ever.” 

“Mhm.”

And so they begin. The most amazing and wonderful and perfect twenty minutes of Yoongi’s life. You weren’t lying when you told him that he will experience the best head massage ever, because he does. He really, really does. You not only pay attention to his entire scalp, you also make sure to massage his tense jaw muscles behind his ear and to loosen the knots in his tight neck muscles. By the time those twenty minutes are over, Yoongi hasn’t closed his mouth in ten minutes and he doesn’t even know that his mouth is open. He is entirely and completely relaxed.

You take off his mask without talking, placing it on the table for now. You waste no time, using the excess serum to massage his face as well. Starting off at his forehead and brows, you guide your skilled finger along his temples, massage his jaw muscles and tense tongue muscle along his throat and you make sure to target every single inch of his face. You even incorporate a gentle massage on the more tender spots, meant to soothe and not to relax tensions, and Yoongi is in heaven. He really is. This is more than heaven. This is his personal paradise, the reason why he exists. It feels so good. His body can’t stop tingling and he swears that he actually feels as if he is floating. He was so stressed, but he isn’t anymore. It soothes him so much to be so pampered. 

Once the serum has been massaged into his skin thoroughly, you begin putting on moisturiser, giving him a softer massage in order not to stress out his skin barrier. You go especially gently on his eyelids, kissing each of them after you finished spreading the cream. 

Once his face glows from being pampered, you spread a thin layer of scalp serum on your palms for one last round of a deep and relaxing scalp massage. 

By now, Yoongi is sleeping. There is no sugar coating the truth. Your once stressed boyfriend is slumbering peacefully with his lips apart and his face entirely slack in relaxation. He looks so adorable like this. 

You give his shoulders a thorough massage as well, ending it off by caressing his chest and then your massage is officially finished. Face glowing, scalp nourished and muscles relaxed he is sleeping in the bathtub while you gaze at him with fond eyes.

That’s what you wanted to happen. He finally looks relaxed.

You play with the thought of waking him for a moment. You really have to, don’t you?

You decide to clean up first. He should sleep as much as he can before you have to cruelly wake him again. You turn off the record player and even take a quick shower so you can change into your pyjamas. Afterwards you do your own skincare and brush your teeth. Yoongi is sleeping through all of it. 

Only then – and once you extinguished the candles – you return to him, cupping his cheeks to shake him awake.

“My love”, you whisper with a heavy heart, “my love, wake up.”

Yoongi begins responding after a few moments. First he huffs out air, then he whines and shakes his head until he finally opens his eyes.

He looks just slightly mad to be woken like this, but most of all, way too sleepy for his own good.

“I know. I’m sorry for waking you, but I need to get you outta the water and into your pjs”, you whisper. 

Yoongi makes a small sound and moves. It looks and feels robotic. You know that he is barely conscious and only really does what his muscles remember to do. 

He gets out of the bath with your help and plops down on the edge of the tub. You open the drain and just about manage to wrap the towel around him because then he is already falling against you, barely awake and so terribly sleepy. 

“-eepy”, he mumbles quietly, rubbing his cheek against your shoulder.

“Almost done, my love. We just gotta get you dry and into your pjs, yeah? Can you work with me? Please?”

Yoongi nods his head and somehow manages to get up and follow you to the pyjamas. He manages to put them on, even if his eyes were closed through the entirety of it. And then he stumbles into the bedroom with your hand tightly in his’ and his trust fully put into you. He doesn’t open his eyes even once, only when you tell him to get into bed.  

He sinks into the pillow, letting out a sleepy sound of relaxation.

You tug him in and get under your blanket. 

“Is nice”, he mumbles, reaching for you.

“Mhm, that’s good to hear”, you say before giving him a kiss on his temple. Afterwards, you roll over to turn off the bedside lamp. Now hued into darkness, you return to him and place your hand on his cheek to caress it softly, “sleep tight, my love”, you whisper and the last thing Yoongi does before he truly falls back to sleep is seek you out for nightly cuddles.

And if one thought that this warm, little snippet of your wonderful life together was over, one was mistaken. As the next part of this warm, little snippet is entirely dedicated to how you woke up with Yoongi as your little spoon the next day and how you made good of the promise you gave him last night. Shall one wish to live in negligence, one can stop reading now. However, shall one find themselves with a certain desire for Yoongi’s blissful morning hours, one shall continue to indulge in this warm, little snippet a little longer. Whatever path one might choose, one shall always know that Yoongi is truly and soul-consumingly happy ever since he is yours and he will continue to be truly and soul-consumingly happy for as long as he is by your side. 

Although you fell asleep later than Yoongi, you wake first. You don’t feel tired, as a matter of fact, you feel so well rested that you could definitely start off your day by running around. You know that it is because Yoongi radiated so much tranquillity throughout the night, which in return helped you rest as well. 

Smiling because you are so happy that last night’s plan worked, you pull him tighter against your chest and drape your leg over his hips. Now he can’t escape and you can get lost in the amazing feeling of holding him. He fits so perfectly into your arms and he is so warm and smells heavenly too. You nuzzle your nose deep into his hair and kiss the nape of his neck this way.

Yoongi cut his hair again. Not as short as he had it when you first met him, but it had grown to a length where he disliked it. So he cut it again and thinned it out at the back. Not that thinning out did a lot for him. He has the thickest hair even. Even all the thinning left behind enough to grab and hold and play with him. And also enough to get lost in. He seriously smells so, so good. 

You hug him tighter and inhale deeply, waking him with it. He makes himself known by letting out a deep and quiet hum. 

“Mhm, morning”, you answer him, rubbing his tummy. 

“Mhm”, Yoongi purrs. 

Nothing more is exchanged between the two of you. You continue to smell his soft hair and kiss whatever part of his head you can reach, while Yoongi travels between the world of the awake and the dreaming. He ends up staying in his dream world. You prop yourself up on your elbow and glance at his face. You have to remove your leg from his hip, but you don’t mind because you can feel his butt against your crotch this way. His head rests on your lower arm and his hand is mere inches away from holding your wrist. His fingers twitch as he very obviously dreams and it makes you wonder if he is currently dreaming about holding your hand. It would be so cute if he did. 

You move the arm you have draped around him so you could touch his hand. His fingers, knuckles and veins. He has the most beautiful hands. You caress his wrist for a little and then move to trace his face, using the back of your hand for it. His cheeks are so soft, his skin feels so healthy. You also think that it is glowing especially prettily this morning and you know for a fact that it is because of last night’s spa treatment.  

You were so happy last night because he took the surprise with so much enthusiasm. Truly, you have the best boyfriend ever. 

You lean down and kiss his cheek. 

“Mhm”, Yoongi wakes because of it, sounding a lot more energized than last time. Forty minutes had passed since then. Yoongi chases your kiss by moving his head so he could look at you, “morn’in.”

“Good morning”, you tell him and kiss his lips. 

He kisses you back, which means that he was actually awake this time around. He smiles sleepily as you break the kiss and rolls his head back into a more comfortable position. You rest back into the pillow, snuggling into him happily.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, really well”, he says, “you?”

“I did, yeah. You felt so calm in my arms tonight, so I feel really refreshed.”

“I slept so well”, he says. His voice is deep and raspy from sleep. “I haven’t slept that well in ages. I kept dreaming about all the stuff I gotta do, but tonight I didn’t dream of anything.” 

“Yes? That’s so good to hear. You deserved it, my love.”

“Mhm”, he hums and wiggles his butt so he was closer to you, “thank you for last night.” 

You smile and kiss the nape of his neck. His hair feels so soft there. You love the feeling of it against your lips. Yes, you are obsessed enough with him to love having hair on your lips. Oh truly, this man consumes your every fiber. 

“I didn’t know I needed it, but I really did. Thank you.”

“I’m just happy that I could help you relax, my love.”

“You did. I was so relaxed and it felt so good. I never experienced something like this before and I loved it so much.”

“Last night was your first time?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh Yoongi, you shouldn’t have told me that. Now I gotta start planning monthly super duper special king treatment spa days to make up for all the lost times.”

He chuckles sleepily, “I won’t stop you.”

“Okay, good”, you say and snicker, “just you wait, I’ll be the best skincarer ever.”

“This is so stupid”, he says in a laugh. The kind of laugh which shakes his shoulders and sounds like little squeaks for air. You love this kind of laugh. 

It always makes you laugh and smile with him. You end up smooching his neck as well, doing so happily. 

“You gotta admit, it has a ring to it.”

“Yeah, I guess”, he says and ends his giggles with a content sigh. He reaches for your hand and grabs it tightly to guide it to his lips. They feel soft as he kisses your knuckles. Once. Twice. Three and four times. Then a stub with his button nose, “thank you so much for this”, he says. 

“Yoongi…”

“I know I didn’t show it last night, but I was really moved by it and I was happy. Yeah. I was really happy. I’m sorry for sucking so much at showing it.” 

“Don’t apologise, my love. I knew that you loved it.”

“Good, that’s good. My love”, he says and pulls your arm tighter around him. 

You nuzzle into him, tightening your arm around him. 

“You’re so warm”, he sighs dreamily.

“And you’re soft”, you tell him, slipping your hand to his tummy to rub it softly. He loves tummy rubs. Only a few seconds of them and he vibrates in soft purrs. 

Today is no different. Rhythmic and terribly sleepy, he fills the silence with his happy purrs. You love that this is just part of him. It’s so relaxing to hear him purr. 

Only a few minutes later and he takes your hand to stick it under his shirt. You glance at him, he meets your eyes shyly.

“I like that”, he whispers, “don’t judge me.”

“I’m not”, you assure him, nuzzling your cheek against him, “I like it too”, you tell him and begin to caress his tummy.

It’s so incredibly soft. Not only because his skin is silken and perfect, but also because he has just enough tummy that he is soft. He is just grab-able enough that you can squish him. You like that because of how perfect he is to pet that way. And Yoongi likes it because he has the most sensitive tummy and when you rub it, he feels at peace. 

This morning however, he also can’t deny the other effects your loving touch has on him. He was way too exhausted to think about sex last night, but he feels rested today. Which means that your touches leave behind just a small tingle of desire in his tummy. Paired with your neck kisses and the incredible softness of your body behind him and Yoongi can’t deny it anymore. This is making him needy. 

The concept of being needy was entirely foreign and rather undesirable for Yoongi before he met you, but with you he really enjoys that feeling. Except for the aching boners he gets as a side effect. He doesn’t like them. Not at all. 

He tries to ignore it at first. You aren’t making any moves and the current situation is so comfy that he doesn’t want to ruin it by asking for more. But then you begin slipping your fingers under the waistband of his pants every so often and Yoongi is spiralling. 

He is aware that you are only doing it because his lower tummy is the softest and you enjoy the feeling of his happy trail under your fingertips. But it’s getting so unbearable to stay calm. You are so close to where he aches and yet you feel too far away. 

You are in the midst of running your hand up his tummy when he snaps. He grabs it, making you gasp in surprise because of how passionately he made contact. 

You lift your head from his neck, studying his face. 

Yoongi acts fast. In one swift movement he has your hand tugged to his cock. He presses you close, making you feel every single inch of his hard length. 

“Please”, he gets out in a whisper, grinding his hips into your hand. 

“Oh my god, Yoongi. Did this make you hard?” you gasp.

He glances at you, meeting your amused yet very excited expression. 

He nods his head and squeezes his cock with your hand in between.

“Please.”

“What do you need?” you ask, knowing very well what he needs.

“Your hand.”

“You’re holding my hand.”

“No”, he is pouting. It makes you smile, because it’s adorable, “I want it there”, he says and rubs his cock against your palm, “like this”, he says breathily, “touching me”, he sighs even breathier and with his fingers squeezing your hand. 

Your stomach clenches in arousal. He is so sexy when he is like this. Especially when he explicitly asks to be touched.

“Mhm Yoongi, you’re so hot like this”, you purr and give his cock a gentle squeeze.

He lets out a quiet sigh, rolling his hips into your hand.

“Do you want it like this?”

“Wanna take off my pants.” 

“Okay, do it”, you say, giving him space.

He manages to take them off until they sit around one of his ankles and then he gives up. That’s good enough. He needs to be with you again, feel your warmth and experience your touch. You fucking made him obsessed with it and now he can’t get enough of it. 

He returns to the previous position, wiggling his butt against you and giving you a boyish look over his shoulder. It makes you giggle and hug him tight.

“Comfy?” you ask after smooching his cheek.

“Yeah, comfy”, he says and looks at your lips, “kiss me.” 

He barely manages to finish his request and then he is already gasping as you use a bundle of his hair to tilt his head into a kiss. It is rough and passionate. Yoongi didn’t expect it, which results in his head to get dizzy with the first contact. His tummy also did a really, really intense clench. It was the most amazing feeling ever, even if it resulted in his cock to grow even harder. 

You moan into the hot kiss, feeling entirely consumed by him. His exposed butt is pressing into your crotch, his naked legs rub against yours and his hard cock begs for attention. He is so close to you. So utterly and entirely engrossed in your presence and now you can feel him up with all the time in the world. Oh, you are so desperate for him.

It gets too much. You can’t control yourself anymore. Without warning, you take his cock between your fingers and pick up an almost punishing speed. 

Yoongi reacts accordingly. He breaks the kiss to squeak in surprise. His body flinches and his legs press together. 

“Wait”, he gets out, looking up at you with widened eyes and his lips parting in a gasp. 

“You’re so hard, holy fuck”, you whisper seductively as your hand pumps his heavy cock. Fast. Rough. With the intent to make him shake. 

“It’s t-too much”, he gets out and gasps, arching his back which results in your contact to break. 

Not with you. You pull him back against your chest, sliding your hand to his throat afterwards. Like this, his head is on your upper arm while his throat gains a new necklace in the shape of your hand. 

You press your lips to his ear, keeping your voice in this one specific register which will always make him weak. 

“Is this too much, mhm? Should I slow down?” you ask as your hand around his cock punishes him quickly. He needs no punishment and yet you can’t stop. He is so fucking perfect when he writhes in forced stimulation. 

“Slow, yeah, slow please”, Yoongi begs.

“Okay. I’ll slow down. Like this?” you ask and stop your movements so you could massage him instead. You keep your hand around his tip, massaging him in smooth pulses and gentle squeezes.

Yoongi presses back against you, tilting his head to reveal more of his neck. You squeeze down on his veins, watching hungrily as he rolls his eyes back in bliss. They flutter closed a second later.

“Yes”, he sighs, following it up with a quiet, “holy shit ___, that feels so good.” 

“Yeah, you just keep sighing my name. Your voice sounds so pretty when you do.”

“___”, Yoongi sighs, placing his hands on your lower arm to squeeze. His fingers are just a little clammy, his touch is filled with no strength. He wants to simply feel you, make sure that you are real and that he is actually experiencing the pleasure you make him feel.

“That’s it. Keep moaning my name”, you encourage him, moving his head with your hand on his throat. Like this, you can kiss his cheek. It makes you so happy because you can feel how Yoongi actively chases your kisses by tilting his head closer. 

“___, ah.”

“My handsome love”, you whisper, “my pretty prince.”

Yoongi likes the praise so much that he moans your name again. Quietly. Like a breathy whisper. He is so far gone in this warm bubble of pleasure, comfort and safety that he can’t do much more than whisper. This is the best morning ever. He is so safe, so warm and so well-touched. Yoongi presses himself closer against you and sighs your name.

You abandon his tip for just a moment because you want to feel him up entirely. You go slow, pressing his cock against his tummy to run your hand up and down the underside of it. His skin is so soft, while his cock is so hard. The contrast of it feeds your obsession for him inch by fucking inch. With every second you touch him, the feelings you have for him get easier to bear. Not much, but at least you don’t feel like suffocating anymore.

Yoongi runs his hands up and down your lower arm, following it with his head turning as he tries to kiss you. His lips are parted, giving you a little sigh.

“Feels good?” you whisper.

“Yeah, feels…good…ah kiss me, p-please.”

“My beautiful Yoongi”, you whisper and kiss him, swallowing the happy sound he makes. He doesn’t really know how to kiss you at first. As if he forgot everything he ever learned because you are touching him so good that his brain turned into mush. You know that this is what is happening right now. 

It’s not often that Yoongi asks to be touched. So whenever he does, it means that he wants to be turned into a dumb, pleasure-drunk mess. No wonder he kisses messily at first, you’ve got him ruined. You slide your hand from his throat to rub his chest instead. It rumbles in deep purrs of enjoyment and his lips soon after find your rhythm. Slow, loving tongue kisses. The kind which leaves both of you so, so lightheaded.

Somewhere in the maze of loving kisses, you allow your hand to change course. You wrap your fingers around his length again and pick up a steady pace, jerking him off with the help of all the excitement he leaks. Of course he’s wet. Yoongi’s so easy to pleasure once he trusts you. He gets wet so easily.

The kiss breaks because Yoongi needed to gasp. Your eyes flutter open, meeting his gaze. It is hazy, blurry and filled with devoted submission. He can’t stop staring, even when so close to your face. His eyes keep switching between your left eye down to your lips and up to your right eye before repeating the route again and again and again. He is so obviously in love, which makes you want to never look away.

You haven’t noticed it yet, but you are mimicking his feelings. Your eyes can’t stop racing between his eyes and his lips and if it was physically possible, Yoongi is sure that your pupils would have turned into little hearts by now.

“Closer please”, he whispers and you hug him against you, placing your hand on his waist to keep him close. Yoongi has to moan at the contact, fluttering his eyelids for just a second before he begins drawing little triangles on your face again.

You are enjoying this moment with intense pleasure bubbling in your tummy. Truly, you don’t even need to be touched to feel satisfied. This is making you feel so fulfilled. And it is filling you with this warm desire to make him feel in paradise. You pick up your pace, watching in delight how Yoongi reacts.

He closes his eyes and scrunches his nose up, letting a quiet, “fuck” slip from his lips.

“Yoongi”, you press out, hugging him tighter. You lower your lips to his face, spreading soft kisses on every inch you can reach.

“I can’t hold it for much longer”, he confesses, pressing back into you to get as close as possible. Truly one may think that it wouldn’t be possible to be closer, but somehow Yoongi manages to merge even deeper with you. Warm back against warm chest, his hands holding your arm while you hold him and with your legs tangled into a mess which makes sense to you and him. You are so close in fact that you can actually feel how his body prepares for his high. He is tensing his muscles more and more and gains so much more warmth to his body.

“Did, did you hear me?” he tries with his voice just slightly higher than usual. Not much, but it is clear that he is struggling. He is breathing so heavily and his butt keeps rubbing against you as he squirms.

“I heard you”, you assure him, kissing his cheek, “does it feel good for you or should I change something?”

“More on the tip, please.”

“Okay. Like this?” you say, massaging his velvety cockhead.

“Yeah….” he gets out and rolls his head away to bury it in the pillow, “ah”, his voice is muffled by it, “ah god, ah.”

It goes on for about five strokes and then Yoongi gasps and turns his head again, looking up at you with so obviously faded eyes. He is so far gone.

“Soon.”

“I know, you’re doing so well”, you praise him, caressing the side of his ribs slowly.

“Tell me that you….ahmhm”, he gulps and tries to continue talking, doing so with his eyes glued to your lips, “that you love, ah, love me.”

Your heart flutters.

“I love you, Min Yoongi.”

“I love you too”, he chokes out and scrunches his face up as his high hits him. This is all it took. To watch your lips form his favourite words paired with your closeness and skilled touch, is all it took. He reaches up and pulls you close with his trembling hands gripping whatever part of your head they could reach. Your nose collides with his cheek and soon you feel his lips attempting to kiss, but failing miserably. You’ve got him climaxing so hard that it is impossible for him to do much more than keen quietly and fight for air.

“Good boy, you’re doing so well”, you talk him through it with loving whispers and little pecks on his pouty lips. And Yoongi swears his entire world lights up because of it.

He comes down way too soon for your taste, now merely shivering in your arms while his cock softens in your hand rapidly fast.

“Princess”, he gets out, hooking his arms behind your head to pull you into a kiss. It is sloppy and filled with gratitude. You love it so much, but you want so much more. You break the kiss, making him beg for more. You have to ignore him, even if you want to keep kissing him. He isn’t done yet. One wasn’t enough.

You roll him to his back and claim the emptiness between his legs. They are still wobbly from the intense orgasm you gave him, making it easy for you to pick them up and slide off his pants completely. You throw them to the side and lean down, picking up his softened cock to put him into your mouth.

Yoongi’s hips shoot up, his legs close around you and a surprised mewl rolls off his lips.

“What are you doing?” he keens, placing his hands on your head to tug you away.

You hum around him, licking and sucking off the sweet tasting cum coating his cock. The vibrations feel intense around his length, forcing his hips to lift again.

Oh how heavily he is breathing, how much he squirms.

“Please”, he gets out and mewls, “please, sensitive, please”, he pleads, trying to tug you off of him, which only ends in you taking his hands and pinning them into the sheets besides his hips. You put your weight on them, making it impossible for him to flee (one has to remember that he could easily lift a truck if he wanted to, he could very well flee but he doesn’t want to).

“Please, sensitive. Hurts, please”, he begs, coughing out a squeaky moan as his soft, little dick gets sucked clean by your hungry mouth. He is still so delirious from his first high and being brought over the edge in such an intimate, safe way and now he has you forcing his cock to remember what pleasure feels like. Yoongi was so ready to fall into the afterglow, but you are keeping him burning. It feels hot, fiery and torturous.

“Sensitive”, he gets out, wiggling his hands even if you pin them down with your fingers squeezing around his wrists, “holy shit, why do you wanna torture me?” he keens, kicking the sheets with weak legs.

You are high. You seriously are. This is the best feeling ever and he tastes so good that you wish to taste nothing but him from now on. His soft cock feels so good in your mouth. So fragile and sensitive and made to be ruined by you. He fits so perfectly in your mouth like this. So well in fact that he can fill you out comfortably while your tongue explores the softness of his balls.

“Oh god, please”, he is begging, squirming away and fighting your grip as best as his shaky arms allow him to. And despite all of that, he is starting to grow hard again. Rapidly if one may add. So quickly in fact, that after a few hungry flicks of your tongue against his balls, he is filling out your mouth so well that you can’t reach them anymore. You cup them in your right hand instead, using your left hand to caress his tensing tummy. It is so sticky and wet from his first orgasm. His hands reach for your head instantly, making you chuckle because it was so predictable.

“Nuh-uh”, you hum around his cock, pinning his hands into the sheets. He grabs your hands, squeezes them as tightly as possible and then lets out a high-pitched mewl.

“Please, this is too much”, he gets out, arching his back, “fuck, please.”

You moan around him, grinding your tongue against his cock as you bob your head up and down. He is almost completely hard again. Of course he is, because he loves it. You know your boyfriend. He might whine, but he loves being overstimulated.

You must admit that you never did it with your mouth before, at least not like this, but there is always a first for everything. After all, you love trying out new things with him.

Now swollen and hard in your mouth, it is difficult to fit him down your throat entirely. Especially in this position. You concentrate your attention on his first two inches. They are the most sensitive after all and you love having them in your mouth.

“A-ah”, Yoongi lets out, dropping your hands to instead twist the sheets. His hips are lifting off the mattress again, but this time around it wasn’t from overstimulation but pleasure. You got him hooked again. Even if his legs close around you and you have to push them apart.

“Mhm”, you hum and giggle, looking up at him with sparkly eyes and his cockhead on your tongue.

He is looking at you with his lids heavy and his cheeks flushed. His hair is a total mess, sticking to parts of his face.

“You’re hard again”, you say and lick him hungrily.

“It’s, it’s ‘cause you f-forced me to, to get hard”, he is stuttering, barely getting the words out.  

“I’m sorry, kitten. You’re so yummy that I can’t help myself”, you rasp and take him back inside, granting him one more second of eye contact before the position naturally breaks it. You close your eyes, sucking his tip and swirling your tongue as you move your head up and down slowly. He should really bask in those sensations.

“Fuck”, he gets out and moans shakily, dropping his head back in the pillow, “what did I do to deserve this?” he whispers and makes yet another sound of pleasure, sounding so good doing it that you have to look at him for a moment. You jerk off his cock as you do, pressing the thumb of your right hand down between his balls to give him just a small hint of pleasurable pain.

“Ngng”, Yoongi lets out, arching his back, “ah, a-ah, hah. Ah.”

“You deserve this because you’re my beloved, pretty kitten”, you tell him, increasing the pressure.

“Ah. Ah, ah hah, ah, a-ah”, Yoongi can’t stop making noises. What a total difference from the once reserved and quiet reactions he gave you during the handjob. You are soaking up those reactions like a woman starved.

“And because you’re my pretty kitten, you deserve to cum over and over again. Are we clear?”

“Thank you”, he mewls, because he doesn’t know what else to say. He feels so good. All he wants to do is thank you for making him feel that way.

Your heart flutters. He is adorable. And he looks so wet. His pink, velvety cockhead is covered in it. You have to taste him again.

You lower yourself back to his cock with the intention of not lifting yourself again until you have him creaming your mouth.

“Thank you…ah”, Yoongi moans, dropping his back in the sheets as his hands naturally reach for you again. Both of them. It’s so cute that he gets so touchy when he is being sucked off. He holds your head gently, but never once uses the grip to guide you. No, he merely wants to hold you because sometimes he doesn’t believe that the pleasure you make him feel is real and he has to make sure that it is.

Your mouth is so warm and soft, your tongue is even softer and so, so wet and your fingers know exactly where to squeeze and touch. You have also grown so confident in your skills.

Bear in mind, Yoongi always thought that your head game was amazing, but he can really tell that you are confident in it these days. Back when you started out, you only really dared to go further than his first two inches when you were drunk, but these days it seems to happen naturally. One minute, he has your tender lips kissing and sucking his cockhead and the next he is hitting the back of your throat while a deep moan vibrates in your chest. You don’t need to be drunk anymore to deepthroat him, it happens naturally.

And Yoongi hasn’t decided yet if he hates it because of how utterly ruined it leaves him or if he loves it because of how entirely blissed out it makes him feel. Maybe a little bit of both.

“Oh god, princess”, he moans, closing his legs again as hot pleasure shoots through them.

You chuckle around him before slipping off. You push his legs apart again, looking up at him with sparkling eyes.

“Stop closing your legs”, you tell him, following it up with your lips nibbling at his tip slowly. Every now and then you dart out your tongue, giving him a glimpse of warm, wet heaven.

“Sensitive, I can’t help it”, he says, eliciting a happy giggle from you.

“You always are”, you are teasing, “what’s with you?”

“It’s ‘cause you feel good”, he says and thrusts his hips, “more please.”

“Mhm ‘kay, but only if you don’t close your legs again”, you say, taking him back inside.

Yoongi rests his head back in the pillow, throwing his arm over his eyes as a breathy laugh slips past his lips.

“You feel so good”, he gets out and moans with a smile on his face, “fuck.”

He drops his legs on the mattress and wiggles his toes, meeting your warmth with a soft roll of his hips.

“Yeah, that definitely tops everything”, he whispers, placing his right hand on the back of your head to caress it.

You love how warm his touch feels and how gentle his thumb runs over your head. It makes you want to perform even better for him, go deeper and make him feel a thousand times more ruined. You slide your hand to his balls and begin massaging them as your mouth slowly but surely sinks down on his length.

“Yes, god”, he gets out, rubbing his legs against your body, “fuck baby, I’m sensitive.”

“Mhm”, you purr around him, which doesn’t help him at all. He just ends up twitching in your mouth while his legs rub against you in a desperate squirm.

“You don’t give a shit, do you?”

You shake your head, wiggling his cock down your throat that way. You hum when he is oh so deep inside you, sending a jolt through his legs. His fingers twitch on your head, trying their hardest not to push you down further.

“Fuck, you’re torturing me”, he gets out and laughs, arching his back.

You love when he is like this. When he feels so good and safe with you that he laughs during sex. To think about how he started off and how it’s going these days. You love this development, having to moan around him as your left hand slides under his shirt. You walk your fingers up his tummy and ribs, stretching them out on his pecs so you can rub his nipple.

His laughter stops, a loud gasp for air replaces them. He chases your touch, sliding his arm from his eyes to instead hold your hand through his shirt. He squeezes it gently, rubbing his legs against you needily.

“Fuck.”

There was no ounce of amusement or laughter in this word. Just desperate pleasure and the disbelief that something so amazing is actually happening to him.

“Yeah, god…that’s….fuck, princess.”

Maybe you like this kind of voice just a little more. Don’t misunderstand, you love when he laughs during sex. But when your touch hits just right that he feels so good that he can’t even find it in himself to laugh anymore to instead moan, definitely feels extra special. He spills his pleasure on your tongue with a throb of his cock. His taste is amazing.

You glide off of him until you can suck on his tip. Your lips fit so nicely around it. Like his cock was made to be sucked by you. He rewards your eagerness with new droplets of his sweetness. Truly, he tastes so good. You hum around him, sucking harder.

“___”, he moans, following it up with a roll of his hips, “___ baby…love, this is…fuck.”

You love that he just can’t stay still. He is an expert in lounging. Sometimes when you and he cuddle, you have to check on him because of how still he can get. And now he just can’t stop squirming and touching and rubbing himself against you. It’s so incredibly adorable to witness. 

You slurp up the saliva which has began running down his length and swallow it hungrily. There is just a little bit of his taste in it. Not enough for your liking and so you take his cock between your fingers and apply pressure on his swollen vein. You know just how to squeeze and rub that he leaks onto your tongue. 

Sweet like honey. There must be something magical in his taste because you get so needy for it that it gets hard to breathe. 

You slip your lips off of him, staring at his tip. It is deep red in colour, courtesy of you sucking his soul out of his cock. Your fingers glide to it and begin squeezing just right to milk him of his translucent goodness. 

“Fuck, jesus, you gotta- hrng”, he gets out and lets out a deep growl, throwing his head back as best as the position allows him to, “honey, fuck.” 

“You’re so wet for me”, you taunt and squeeze more out of him. You love how his cock looks when he leaks for you. So pretty and wet. How wonderful. 

And while he growls and gasps, you let out a chuckle. It is heavy in crazed pleasure. 

“You’re such a wet kitten”, you rasp and finally connect your tongue with his cock. You grind the flat of it over his slickened tip, ending it with a throaty moan and a flick of your tongue. You flutter your eyes at him, even if he isn’t looking, “you’re my fucking addiction”, you lull and sink him into your mouth as far as you can take him. 

Only once he is deep as you can go, you begin moving. Fast and harsh. You drool all over him, spill tears instantly and find it just a little harder to breathe but it’s so fucking worth it. 

Yoongi moans and he moans loudly. So fucking loudly. His hips roll off the mattress, his hands reach for his own thighs and squeeze hard to prevent them from falling closed. 

“Holy shit, holy fuck. Princess love. Fuck. Ah! Aha baby ah.”

Your left hand is working hard on keeping his nipples as sensitive as possible while your right hand holds his throbbing cock in place. If you wouldn’t, it would just be way too hard to keep the rhythm going.

“You have to stop or, or else I’ll- ah”, Yoongi throws his head back, arching off the mattress, “I’ll cum down your throat, please stop.” 

He is so polite. Even now when you are so clearly derailed in pleasure, he is trying to warn you. He is such a gentleman. Oh how you need this man to literally pump your stomach full of cum. Yeah, you are really derailed. 

You pinch his right nipple, keeping it between your fingers to massage it harshly. The pleasure swirls down his body and goes straight to his cock. 

“Please I have to cum, I don’t- ah”, Yoongi shudders and arches his back, “can I cum in your mouth?”

The switch up is so fucking hot. To have him go from begging you for a break to begging you for the chance to climax down your throat, it’s so hot.

You hum around him, nodding your head. 

“Really? Please. Ah- fuck, ___ please.”

You moan and go deeper, nodding your head with more vigour. 

“Thank you”, Yoongi croaks and drops into the sheets. A second later, you feel his seed shoot down your throat and his cock throb in your mouth, “holy fuck yes.”

You wanted to swallow everything, but didn’t take into account just how hard your boyfriend cums. It ends up spilling out of your mouth and you working quickly to try and slurp all of it up. You love every second of it, feasting on his taste with a pounding head. 

Yoongi pulls you off of his cock once overstimulation sets on.

“No more. Serious”, he chokes out, following it up with a breathless, “you’re fucking insane. What the fuck.”

You are so dizzy, nuzzling your nose into his soft inner thigh. 

“Fuck Yoongi, you taste amazing”, you lull in a raspy voice. Your throat hurts just a little from getting it creamed so good.

“I’m dizzy”, he confesses, rolling his head to the side, “princess…”

You kiss your way up his body, staying at his neck to cover it in gentle love bites. His taste still lingers on your tongue, making you dizzy. Yoongi purrs and rolls his head to the side, nudging your temple with his nose. A kiss follows.

“This was amazing”, he lulls, smiling against your skin, “you’re the best, my love.”

“Yeah?” you giggle, lying down beside him with your leg draped over his waist and his arm under you. He closes it around you, running his hand up and down your back. You can look at each other so well like this.

“Mhm, yeah”, he says, staring at your lips. He reaches up and swipes his thumb over your lower lip, “you got a little something there”, he says.

“Oh? Oops. Thank you”, you say.

“Mhm”, he hums and guides his thumb to his mouth to lick it clean.

“Hot”, you mumble.

Yoongi lifts his brows at you playfully and slips his thumb free with a bop of his lips.

“It’s the least I can do”, he says, giving you a lopsided smirk. He is so good at doing them.

You nudge his chest, letting out a very ungraceful snort. Yoongi thinks it’s the most beautiful sound you ever made, soaking it up happily.

“You’re dumb.”

“Why?” he asks in a chuckle.

“Because you’re being flirty, you know exactly what this does to me.”

“What? You gonna suck my cock again?” he jokes, making you snort again.

“God”, you fluster, dropping your head in the crook of his neck. You rub yourself against him like a cuddly cat, “Yoongi”, you giggle.

He chuckles deeply, sliding his hand to your lower back so he can press you closer to him. You feel so warm between your legs. He loves the feeling of it against his naked thigh.

“You know what we should do today?” he asks.

“Wait. I wanna guess.”

“Do it.”

“You’re gonna say cook together, eventhough I literally told your stubborn butt last night that you don’t gotta cook for me all the time.”

He laughs. Wholeheartedly and loudly. You join him, lifting your head so you can look at his happy expression. He laughs with his mouth open and his eyes squeezed shut. You love this kind of laugh on him.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” you stress, nudging his moving chest. It rumbles in his laughter.

“Yeah”, he says, nodding his head, “fuck”, he ends his laughter with a deep chuckle and a shake of his head, “why do you know me so well?”

“Because being loved means being known and I love you, which means I know you”, you say, grinning when he rolls his eyes at you.

“You’re so cheesy”, he says.

“And you love it, so stop rolling those eyes at me.”

He smiles, “sorry, you’re right”, he says and runs the back of his hand down your cheek, “my love”, he whispers and smiles, cupping your cheek.

You smile, leaning into his palm, “you’re my love too.”

He studies your face with lovedrunk eyes. A soft smile curls his lips. 

“Do you want me to return the favour?” he asks. 

“Mhm later, as a little break between work, yeah? I’m so hungry you have no idea.”

“I just fed you.”

You laugh. He laughs too. 

“I hate you for making me laugh.” 

“You loved it.”

“Yeah sadly”, you say and study his face. Especially his pretty lips, “okay actually. Can you give me one orgasm?”

He smirks. Fuck, he is so hot doing that. His eyes lower playfully.

“Of course I can, princess. Let me take care of you”, he says, picking you up to fix your positions.

[extremely-judgemental]

Subtext is completely lost in this fandom. I partly blame SJM for it. This is a rant from both reading and writing standpoint and leans towards the characters since I like to psychoanalyse them.

The one thing that tired me the most in these books is the excessive narration. I don’t mean the wordy description to support world-building but the never-ending monologues. SJM takes ‘show, don’t tell’ advice literally with the visual cues when it should apply to the characters and their personalities as well. Where subtext usually exposes depth of these characters and lets you decide who they are, SJM strips away that chance by writing it down for you word by word. The reason so many are going with 'in the book' argument is exactly this.

Here’s what I mean.

In real life, people don’t think linearly. They have an idea about themselves as much as they have about everyone else around them. There are self-imposed restrictions on their thoughts based on who they believe to be and who they strive to be. And it shows in their interaction with outside world. Say, when someone is ashamed of their actions, they will deny it for as long as possible. Someone who regrets something, they will sugarcoat it.

But in her books, her characters think clearly—way too clearly so that you latch onto the ideas she perpetuates. You don’t get to know them based on their thoughts, words, and actions, and see how these three support each other. You don't get a chance to draw conclusions as to if they are the hero/villain and good/evil based on their actions. If their behaviours match their words or if their choices are acceptable. Because SJM sets it in words for you. The characters come with a label beforehand. (Feyre, Rhysand and Inner Circle are good guys. Tamlin, Eris and Nesta, sometimes Lucien are evil.) It's why so many toxic and abusive themes are dismissed because it’s the 'good guy' or the 'morally grey guy’ who does it.

And so, her lead or ‘good’ characters fall flat since they have everything figured out. They know themselves inside out. They are never wrong about themselves, there’s no part they hide from themselves or the others. There’s nothing for you to read and identify the beauty or ugliness in the character. There’s no depth in them because they don’t contradict themselves, they don’t struggle to be someone they always believed to be. They don’t have to prove anything to themselves or others. They say what they think and they do what they say. They are very aware of their shortcomings and they all seem to know the exact consequences of their decisions.

Feyre doesn’t change in the three books. Her ‘rags to riches’ story doesn’t lead to much character growth. She starts out as an adamant, reckless child and ends up being arrogant, reckless woman with a crown. She doesn’t undergo a shift in personality but climbs up the social hierarchy. And that’s considered character development. Rhysand remains the same throughout. He starts out as a villain but later revealed as a good guy playing bad. Instead of growing into a hero—given his crimes, his ill deeds are negated with sympathetic backstory. And from there, it’s a flat line. There’s no growth.

In the end how does the character change in the aftermath of the events? Which of their beliefs are shattered and rebuilt? What is the emotional impact on the other characters? SJM does offer some closure on these regards but they are solely focused on a list of traumas and specific reactions set by SJM herself. And so readers refuse to think for themselves how these scenarios may play out and take the words relayed through the unreliable narrators who are essentially preaching SJM’s biases. Also, when they are so explicitly written down, there’s not much room for subtext. After going through pages and pages of justification, it tires you from using reason.

Even if we get past this (writing) flaw, there are other major issues. Story telling is a way of experiencing life. It helps build empathy, compassion and understanding of the world. Even in a fantasy book, when that world doesn’t exist, when the characters aren’t real, their journey are drawn from real life experiences. Relating to these characters is subjective and solely depends on the reader, but determining the rightness of their actions is not. This too is warped as SJM dictates which behaviour is acceptable and how far through her lead characters(Feyre vs Nesta imprisonment). Instead of allowing you to judge the choices, the verdict is spoon-fed through the ‘hero’. If the characters are forgiven, it’s not abuse. It’s a simple mistake. (It’s a mistake if it happens once and if there’s a changed behaviour after the apology.) If the characters are happy in the end, their acts are admissible. Unless SJM stamps the word ‘abuser’ and ‘bad guy’ in block letters herself(Tamlin), it's not even considered a possibility.

In short, ‘reading between the lines’ exists as long as it supports what the author preaches. When it contradicts ‘it’s in the books’. Logic is valid only if you use it to justify the fan favourites and applaud them. Empathy is conditional. Compassion is conditional. Critical thinking is so discouraged in this fandom that it’s pitiful.

[writingquestionsanswered]

i've recently started writing fanfiction, but even after meticulously planning everything out before starting, my writing feels very choopy, emotionless and passive for the most part, and if i try to include description, it feels i'm overdoing it. i mean, it is the firsts draft technically, but the low quality makes me demotivated to continue writing. i know i need to finish the first draft before reading back and editing, but seeing the state of it now, i feel like i should complete the first draft then rewrite it instead of edit it so i can frame sentences better. but i worry it will take too much time, time i cannot afford to spend for writing fanfiction as a college student. is this just a beginner thing? what should i do to make my writing interesting? or am i asking the wrong questions?

Fan-Fiction Writing Feels Choppy and Emotionless

I don't want to assume you've never written fiction (because you could be a writer of original fiction just beginning to write fan-fiction), but unless you are an experienced writer of original fiction--then yes, it's a beginner thing.

Writing fiction, for whatever reason, is something people think they'll be able to take a crack at for the first time and do brilliantly. Which is funny, because we never feel that way about anyone else. Most people don't pick up a guitar for the first time and expect to be able to shred the solo of Purple Haze. Likewise, people don't generally pick up a violin for the first time and expect to sound like Lindsey Stirling, or pick up a tennis racket for the first time and expect to win a game against Venus or Serena. But for some reason, people who sit down to write fiction expect to be able to do it really well right from the beginning, and it just doesn't work like that, just as it doesn't work like that with anything else.

The good news is this: the discord between what you're actually writing and what you want to be able to write means that you know how good writing should sound. That gives you a leg up on a lot of beginning writers. The bad news is no amount of knowing that or knowing what specifically to do to achieve that translates to instant amazing writing. Just in the same way that if you pick up a guitar for the first time, someone can tell you, "In order to shred the Purple Haze solo like a pro, you should do this, this, and this..." but that still doesn't mean you can instantly do those things. You still have to learn how to do those things and practice doing those things. Writing is the same way.

Choppy writing can be the result of a lot of different things... lack of planning, lack of structure, not knowing how to control pace and flow, and more often than not, just outright lack of practice. If you learn how to write your name in calligraphy, even knowing how to hold the pen and what strokes to make doesn't mean you're going to do it pretty the first time. Your early attempts will be choppy and rough, but every attempt will be better than the last. Same with stories. Luckily, these are things you can improve in revision.

Lack of emotion, too, can be caused by a lot of different things. Not knowing the characters well enough, not putting enough thought into how the character development connects with the plot (or what the character development is if you're writing a character-driven story), and not having a good grasp on bringing emotional and sensory details into the story. Passive writing can be sought out and changed to active writing when it makes sense to do so. Again, these are all things you can fix in revision. The next time you write a story, you'll have a better idea of how to implement these things the first time around.

So, ultimately, what I'm trying to say is do write the story despite how not great it feels. Then, use your revision as an opportunity to learn the things you need to know to make the story better. If it still feels choppy, read up on structure, pacing, and flow, then see how you can fix what's there. If it still feels emotionless and uninteresting, read up on emotional and sensory detail, and add it where it's lacking. This combines the learning process with practice in a targeted way... you're learning and practicing the things you specifically need to work on, rather than overwhelming yourself by trying to learn everything there is to know about writing.

The next story will be a little better, the one after that will be even better. ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[imagine-that-100]

Chicken Shop Date | Part 9 |

By @imagine-that-100​​ and @alovesreading​​

Description: Matty Healy x Reader (Female) | You and your best friend Amelia came up with a very simple idea of taking celebrities on awkward chicken shop dates, and somehow, it’s managed to become both of your jobs. In the past, you’ve found sitting across from some of the biggest stars on the planet and eating chicken nuggets easy. But then Amelia manages to score you a date with the man who you’ve been obsessed with since you were nineteen; Matty Healy.

Word Count: 38.8k

A/N: SURPRISEEEE!!!! We are so very sorry it's been so long but this is a long chapter so we hope you forgive us! You would have gotten this yesterday but turns out there is a limit on tumblr and we went over it and I wasn't going to post it elsewhere and leave us tumblr lot behind. So sorry for the delay but we're here! This is going to be so so so much fun, we really hope you enjoy it. We adore this chapter and we hope you like it as much as we do. Please let us know what you think, we won't keep you any longer, go enjoy! Thanks so much for reading x

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 |

| N’s Masterlist | A’s Masterlist |

After the Belfast show, you felt like you were on cloud nine. Matty and you could finally let yourselves be seen together without any worries, and despite not being huge on PDA, it felt so good knowing that you can just be hand in hand with your boyfriend without worrying about being seen by people outside your inner circle. 

The only downside to it all was the fact that the tour was over and you had to go home, only to leave it an hour later. You were not going home with your boyfriend this time, Matty was going back to Manchester with the lads for their Gorilla gig which you were unfortunately missing since your Copenhagen trip was stealing you away for the first three days of the month.

Knowing that you were an hour ahead of him, you made sure to be back from dinner early so that you were in bed and ready to indulge in the madness and properly let yourself react. There was no way you weren’t crying watching the videos people would post. And if you managed to find a livestream like you had for a handful of shows in the US, you knew you’d be an utter mess. 

Seeing the mess of tweets on your timeline had you getting nervous, and instead of letting it all out in the form of multiple distressed tweets, you decided to let it out in the form of a desperate message to your boyfriend: I think you should cancel Gorilla since I won’t be able to attend x

Unfortunately, he didn’t give you the answer you wanted because your phone vibrates less than half a minute later and you can almost hear him giggling as you read his message saying, I’m five minutes away from going on stage baby little bit late for that xx

You can’t stop yourself from scoffing and you know he definitely can picture your reaction when all you reply with is, Don’t care xxx

Matty knows how to get you though, because you bite your tongue when his text comes through and it says, Oh but you do and it’s very cute of you to pretend xxx

The only way you can think of getting him to pity you for missing this is by being entirely honest, so you quickly send, I would have cancelled this trip if I knew when you posted that insta story that it was gonna be a self titled show 😭 xxx

Reading him saying, Don’t worry I’ll play them again for you xxx makes you pout because you want to be in that crowd experiencing it for the first time like everyone else.

It’s not the same but thank you x is your first answer, in instinct, but then you give it a quick thought and your fingers quickly type, But since you so kindly offered I expect to be serenaded, I want candles, I want eye contact, I want my own acoustic set of self titled x

You laugh at yourself like a fool at just the image of that actually happening and so you finish your string of texts by adding, No pressure or anything though xxx

His answer is just, I’ll make a note x and you know exactly the way his face is contorted at his phone, with that smirk that’s almost mocking and his wide eyes framed by lifted brows. 

Thank you xxx you reply, biting your bottom lip, you miss him pathetically so and you wish even harder you were there, not only to experience what’s about to happen but to have him next to you again. After being joined at the hip for a month, it came as a heavy weight on your chest to be away from each other.

That weight gets heavier when you read he’s sent, About to go out baby, hope you’re having a great time with Dimz. Miss you lots, you’re here in spirit xx

Before he goes, you quickly reply, Miss you too!! I suppose I hope it goes amazing 🥺 Don’t fuck the lyrics up you grandad xx

Of course, his response to that is a, I make no promises xx that has you rolling your eyes and chuckling. He follows that with a sweet, I’ll text you after xxx 

Melting further into the bed, you send back a wholehearted, Stop texting me and play the album that made me love your music xx before you go back to Twitter to become part of the collective meltdown.

That last text made it almost impossible for Matty to stop smiling for the whole of the gig. It was an hour and a half of pure joy for him to be playing his first album again in Manchester of all places and he knew that he could come straight back off stage and you would be there for him to talk to about just how much he loved it. 

But the lovely surprise that he got was that his phone had been bombarded with texts already and seeing that they were all from you made him grin like a fool. Even when he opened your messages and he saw the first you send after you bid him goodbye made him laugh out loud. 

I’ve just found a link to a livestream and I can wholeheartedly say: I hate you.

You didn’t tell me you were putting a fucking box out from the self titled era. I hate you.

No. No. No. 

Something inside him aches when he reads another of your first spamming of messages. 

It’s like I’ve travelled back in time to your 2014 show but I’m not there to see it in person like I was back then, what the fuck Matty?!?!?!!!? 

It makes him wish that he found you back then. That you could have been together for so much longer than you currently have been. All he wants is more time with you and he already can’t wait to see you again. Even though you might be a little upset with him after how you’ve described his show. 

This is a cruel form of torture. 

Matty finds himself snorting when he reads one that came in just moments after the last, Why wouldn’t you professionally stream this you twat.

It’s a good idea from you to be fair. It makes him think that he should have actually done it to raise more money for War Child, especially since the whole show was being professionally recorded for the band's sake anyway. 

Before he can scold himself too much he reads your next text which again has the curly haired singer laughing out loud when he sees: I’m crying to fucking MONEY. The hold you have over me is insane. 

He can picture you crying to that song, probably as you try to sing along as well, and the scene he’s got in his head just makes it harder for him to stop laughing. In between giggles and half lidded eyes, he continues reading the following texts.

Did you really just get the lyrics wrong to talk you fucking muppet. It’s the easiest song you have. WHY DO YOU TALK SO LOUD!!! 

He knows for a fact he will hear shit from you on that front because he knows that tonight he was bad with the lyrics. But he will argue that he can’t be expected to remember them all when he’s getting older and he has more banging tunes in his repertoire to remember these days. And he hasn’t listened to self titled properly in full since the album listening party on twitter back in 2020 weeks before Notes came out. 

There must have been a small gap where you actually watched the stream you found, as you don’t send anything about Sex or Chocolate despite them being absolute bangers (if he does say so himself). He has no doubt you were either grinning like a fool as you sang along or probably crying and singing along if your earlier messages were anything to go by. 

Heart Out is still a fuckin bop, it’s awful it’s not on the setlist permanently.

That one has him smiling, but he’s grinning like a fucking moron in response to the next song on the setlist. He can practically hear you saying the following messages he received like you are in the room with him. 

Settle fucking Down. Holy shit Matthew! 

Still remember being so confused when the video to this first came out, I had no fucking clue what was going on but christ it’s such a good song I don’t care. 

Matty can’t help but find that one funny because there was definitely a vision for it that not everyone got but it made sense to him so he just ran with it. But it’s your next few messages that have him shaking his head trying not to grin at his phone like a fool.

You better do that high note!!

Do that fucking high note you slut!!!!

YASSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m crying again. Over a fucking high note. I need mental help. 

If you don’t wanna be with me after this I understand but you needed to know at some point how deep this obsession for your music ran. 

No I can’t handle Robbers right now you dick why would you do this to me?!!!???!

As endearing as he finds the warning of your obsession and his get out of jail free card, it wasn’t as if he didn’t already know what he was in for. You have a tattoo already showcasing that love for his music and he’d seen the way you lit up even during his soundchecks when it was practically just you in the audience and even then you looked like you were having the time of your life listening to his music. 

And it wasn't as if you don’t tell each other you’re obsessed with each other anyway. Matty knows what he’s in for and he’s certain nothing could scare him off at this point. 

Not when all his chest can do is ache with longing to speak to you when he reads your next chunk of messages.

I’m at she way out and I’m still crying 

Play this song more often!

Menswear goddddd!!! 

Did you know I’ve had an amaretto at every wedding I’ve attended in the last ten years because of this song? 

You’ve cost me so much money. And that’s not including your tickets and your merch. 

Matty chuckles at those but even more so when he realises the album must have finished and in response to that you decided to inform him.

I’m depressed now. What are you going to do about it??? 

But clearly you’re cured by the time he starts playing the next song because you’re even virtually singing along and he can practically feel the way you screamed it at your phone as you pressed send. 

SELLING PETROLLLLLLLLL

But then you clearly have a giggle with yourself as immediately after you were scolding him.

Your fave essential oil lmfao 

You’re an idiot for not knowing what an essential oil is.

The singer vaguely remembers the interview you're referencing. The miscommunication with an American somehow got him in the shit with fans at the time and clearly now with you which is almost unfair when the woman interviewing him didn’t even know what petrol was… So much for being a fan of his band when petrol is a literal lyric.

Your next few messages make him smile and his heart skip a beat. He really should have asked you to film yourself reacting to the whole gig because imagining your face when reading each message wasn’t enough.

Happiness slaps every damn time, you put something in that song I swear. 

And he can’t help but smirk at the compliment, and his smirk only gets bigger when he reads the next text. 

Definitely like you better when you take off your clothes 😜 

The heat that rushes through him is exchanged for amusement when his gaze falls on your next text and the laugh that escapes his lips is uncontrollable. 

BE MY MISTAKE AFTER ALL OF THIS ARE YOU FUCKING JOKING!!!!!!!!!

Prepare for a slap the next time I see you. I’m crying again. 

He imagines the slap will be even harder when he reads what you’ve spammed him with barely 15 minutes ago.

NOT ABOUT YOU 

MATTHEW TIMOTHY HEALY 

WHAT THE FUCKKKKK

Well the tears are streaming now well done. Hope you're happy.

You can’t leave it there. 

Are you kidding?????? 

Ending on about you?!??!?!?!!! After self-titled in full??!?!?! You’ve murdered a nation.

Hate you x

Matty snorts at that one. He knows you don’t mean it though because your next message is too kind and he can’t stop smiling at his phone.

Christ I hope you left your phone backstage lollll sorryyyyy xxxx 

Message me when you can xx Really proud of you xxx

Reading that makes his heart swell an embarrassing amount. It’s certain he goes all gooey inside, the buzz from getting off stage sweetened by the rush of joy that hearing from you causes him. 

Of course he thanks you and he apologises for upsetting you, and when you tell him not to he just apologises again to get a rise out of you, loving that you’re so easy to wind up. You tell him how much you loved it but you’re more keen to know if he enjoyed it.

He tells you that he did, but it doesn’t put a patch on the banquet records gig where he spotted you in the crowd and he told you that he missed having you there. 

Matty texts you on and off for the next hour, starting off with you telling him that you’d enjoyed the set but obviously he wanted to leave you to your fun with Amelia, so he tried not to bother you too much. And knowing that you were an hour ahead of him in Copenhagen meant that he knew you needed to get some sleep soon. 

That being said he couldn’t deny himself a bit longer talking to you whilst you were still coherent. He wishes he could ring you and hear your voice but people weren’t even leaving him alone to text you. He asked you how your night had been knowing you had your first brand event to be at this evening. 

You tell him how fun it was, and admit that you felt imposter syndrome takeover again but somehow managed to not let that become too unmanageable so it didn’t ruin your night. He could practically picture everything as you explained about how they had everyone congregate for a sit down meal, all of you wearing some of the brands new line of clothes so you could help them promote it, and how it was a lot of fun having free cocktails and food with your best friend and your stylist before coming back a bit early so you could catch the livestream. 

As Matty was chatting to you, he got another text from a number that was yet to be saved to his phone. It was curiosity alone by the image he could see that was attached to it that led him to click on it. And thank Christ he did. 

It turns out Amelia had acquired his phone number, probably from you at some point. But this was the first he was hearing from her and he’s glad he did because she was giving him such glorious content. Opening the text, Matty chuckles when he reads, 

I think I deserve compensation for you and your silly box band for having my best friend like this for the 7474526273743rd time!!!!!!!!!!

And yes she’s drunk

The picture of you that she’s sent makes him giggle. You’re sitting cross-legged on the bed with your laptop just in front of you, in one hand you’re holding an almost empty glass of red wine and the other is wiping away your evident tears from your cheeks. 

Matty giggles seeing that, but his heart goes out to you simultaneously because he of course doesn’t ever want to make you upset. However, Amelia is clearly the one that needs the next text.

I can arrange compensation for you 

Her reply doesn’t even take 10 seconds to come through.

Does that compensation have a first and last name??? Thinking beginning with R and M?????

The singer genuinely has to pause for a second there. That’s again another time someone has started pining for Ross and the maths isn’t quite mathsing in his head. People really like Ross this much?

Regardless, Matty quickly types back, Okay stop thirsting, your best friend is drunk

Her reply is again fast, but this time instead of confusing him it makes him grin like a lunatic, 🙄 Yeah I’m well aware, she can’t stop yapping about you

He feels all fuzzy inside at the mere thought of making you happy when you talk to each other. And the fact you tell your best friend about him just makes him think that he’s doing everything right. He feels like he definitely is, because he’s certain he would have heard from Amelia before now if he hadn’t.

Matty ends up responding cockily, Thought you’d be used to that by now?, before he adds your best friend as a contact and names her Dimz. 

It somehow has gotten worse, Matty reads her reply come through as he’s searching for the chicken emoji to put next to her name.

He can’t help but snort, Who would’ve thought????

After going back to chat to you for a little longer, Matty realises the car that's dropping him off is close to home now, not even two minutes away and when he tells you this, you decide that it’s time to bid each other goodnight. You tell him to send his family your love and you both promise to phone each other when you get up the following morning to properly catch up. 

It’s difficult not to carry on texting you when he makes it inside his childhood home. He’s so used to chatting to you before you go to sleep after the last month of being on tour together that it's a little strange for him. 

He stays awake chatting to his Mum and Lincoln for a little while before he heads upstairs knackered now after a long day of socialising and entertaining. He briefly sends some memes off to the group chat as he gets himself ready for bed before he sees in his notifications centre that he’s missed another text.

It’s from Amelia again and she only sent it 15 minutes ago, so the singer quickly taps on it as he gets himself into bed. 

Had to take her out to console her with her favourite coffee… 

Seeing the photo that she’s sent, Matty genuinely thinks his heart may burst out of his chest. He sends off a gooey response of love heart emojis back but after that he’s transfixed at the sight of you. 

In the picture you're laughing holding your coffee but you’ve managed to somehow get the whipped cream on your nose. The sight is adorable, you’re so cute and you easily have Matty’s heart longing for you, his pulse racing at the thought of being close to you again and making you laugh like that in person. 

It’s probably not good for his heart, getting into a relationship again when he’s due out on such a big world tour. Missing you is going to hurt him more than he could probably cope, but the moments with you are so worth the brief pain of not being with you for a bit. 

Looking at this picture of you, he can’t help but let his imagination run wild. Making you laugh and giggle like this in person on all the dates he’ll take you on in the future. He can picture you holding your drink with a diamond adorning your left ring finger too as you hold up your cup, and he’d take pride in knowing one day soon he’d get to marry the girl he loves.

He loves you.

God, he loves you so damn much. 

And it only dawns on him just how much as he stares at this picture of you giggling with whipped cream smeared on your nose. Obsessed truly isn’t the word anymore, he’s well and truly head over heels for you. 

Matty saves the picture in a heartbeat and quickly makes the picture his lockscreen so he can be reminded just how in love he is everytime he looks at his phone. And Matty falls asleep grinning like an absolute fool at the picture of his girlfriend knowing he’s deeply and madly in love with her. 

~*~*~*~

Your phone rings alive and startles you out of the conversation you were having with Amelia as you waited right by your gate. When you check the screen to see who’s calling, you smile and feel your insides be coated with the familiar warmth that your boyfriend brings to you whenever he’s mentioned, or when something reminds you of him, or he calls or texts you.

“Hey Matty.” You answer quickly, a big grin on your face that he can picture just from the pitch of your voice. 

He matches it, and his smile reaches his eyes as he greets you softly, “Heya baby, how are you doing? Hope you’ve had a nice last morning.” Amelia rolls her eyes and fakes a muted gag before going to her phone when she hears it’s your boyfriend calling you, it makes you snort.

“I’m okay, thank you. And yesss, it’s been good.” Remembering the lovely time you’ve had in Copenhagen makes your smile the tiniest bit bigger but then you remember the time difference and you’re frowning, “But why are you awake so early?” 

It’s merely an hour behind that he’s at but you know he appreciates sleeping in in the morning, just as you do, so you thought he’d still be asleep hence why you’d sent him a quick text that read, At our gate waiting to board! See you soon baby xx which he had yet to reply. 

Your frown dissipates and you’re left smiling like a fool again when his words, laced with sweetness, come to the admission of, “I get to see you in a few hours. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Stop it.” You let out automatically, your cheeks starting to heat up and hurt from how big you’re smiling. 

Matty doesn’t help your case trying to seem cool when he chats back with a smooth, “It’s the truth.” He’d seen your message come through and suddenly the day was perfect already.

You can see him shrugging and offering you one of his nonchalant smiles, and your heart squeezes in your chest picturing him with his face puffy from sleep and his curls messy, tired eyes trying to stay open and that loopy smile he gives you whenever you wake up beside him. 

“I hope you went to sleep early then.” You bargain for that, trying to feel less bad about him being up this early to check on you, or worse woken up by your text.

He hums softly in confirmation, “Accidentally did actually, weed knocked me out.” 

“Well I’m glad you got some sleep at least, but don’t wake up on my account.” He’s your boyfriend and all but you were still going to text him when you were boarding and when you landed so that he wouldn’t worry, he really didn’t need to cut his sleep short for you.

“Hush now,” He waves you off lightheartedly, “What’s your flight number and what time are you due back?”

“Due in at Heathrow at 11:25am,” You reply easily but a thought sparks in your mind and you giggle to yourself before you correct your actions, “One sec, let me actually send you a pic of the board because I know you’ll forget.”

“Okay, thank you baby.” He finds himself stupidly swooning over how easy it has been for you to pick up on his habits, the good and the bad. “I’ll pick you and Dimz up - and if it’s okay with you after we’ve dropped Dimz off we can head back to yours?”

His suggestion warms your heart but you really don’t want to be a burden so you easily reply, “You don’t have to get us, Matty, it’s okay. We can get a taxi.”

“No, I want to and I want to see you.” It’s not like he was asking if he should pick you up, he already was going to do that. He was just trying to suggest you two go back to your flat considering how much comfort that would bring compared to going back to his house after a month away from home. “Dimz too, obviously, but I wanna see you and I bet you are dying to sleep in your own bed again after a month away.”

“God, I really am.” Just picturing falling back into your own bed sounds so heavenly, your words come out in a softened moan that amuses him, and it’s when you add, “Might be more excited for that than to see you.” that he actually giggles.

“Oh, I see how it is.” 

“I’m joking, I’m joking.” You quickly say to take it back but Matty knows you actually meant it and he finds it so endearing. 

“You’re not and that’s fine.” He corrects you and the giggle that accompanies it soothes you that he can read you so easily.

With a sigh, you let out, “You know me scarily well.”

And it has him proudly adding, “Well you are my girlfriend. I intend to find every last detail about you, and you loving your sleep seems like a big part of your day.”

“Yep, now you know why your date was at two o’clock.” It’s probably the time of the day that has you admitting that, even though you know it might’ve been embarrassing to admit that before, it feels right to just share your train of thought back then. 

He hums softly, taking a few seconds to do a bit of maths in his head about how your day must’ve been leading up to the date, “Still must have got up pretty early if you got up and did your make up and trekked it all the way from Brixton to over my way and to set up and everything by two.” His brows raised when he reached his conclusion, knowing the effort it must’ve taken for you to wake up that early for it all, “You must’ve got up at like ten, maybe nine and that’s early for you.”

“I actually couldn’t sleep properly the night before our date so I think I got up around six.” It's almost like in a whisper that you admit that, and you giggle at the soft gasp he lets out.

“Six o’clock?! Wow baby you really must’ve been tired that day.” 

He hears you hesitate when you think back to that day, only being able to remember how it all started and your heart grows in size in your chest, “Nothing you didn’t wake me up from when you asked for that fucking kiss.”

“Hey, if I hadn't asked for that kiss then we wouldn’t be talking right now.” He quips back in a heartbeat, and he takes a moment to think back to that day with pride and so much appreciation for everything you’ve shared of yourself with him since then.

“Never said I didn’t appreciate the kiss.” It’s the first thing you say, just to clear up because there’s not one kiss of his that you’d never appreciate. And then you continue, “I just preferred the one outside where there weren’t any cameras or anyone else watching me kiss the guy who was my lockscreen for almost five years.”

Matty smirks when he hears that, but he plays on the past tense of your statement to tease you, “I best be your lockscreen again.” 

“My lockscreen is actually a picture of Ross from the gorilla gig.” You quickly reply, lying with ease to taunt him back.

And you have to bite your bottom lip to swallow a laugh when his voice drops to an unimpressed tone when he says, “You better be joking.”

You don’t relent in your effort to give him a taste of his own medicine and, nonchalantly, continue adding to your bluff, “Nope, he looked so good.” 

The only answer your boyfriend can give you is an ultimatum that makes you laugh, “You have until you get home to change it.”

But you play into his petition by asking him, “What would you prefer it to be?”

“I don’t know, a picture of us maybe or just one of me.” You shake your head and roll your eyes to yourself when he says that, knowing that if he was beside you and he’d seen Ross as your lockscreen, he would’ve taken multiple selfies in that very moment and chosen his favourite to replace his best friend.

You hum as if you’re deliberating whether or not that being a good call, eventually you come back to him with, “Ames will call me a simp.”

To which he wastes no time to answer, firm conviction when he says, “And you are one. You’re obsessed with me, remember?” 

“Mmm yeah, I guess I am.” You give into him, this game that you always get in with him giving you an endless rumble of butterflies in your belly that makes you wanna giggle. “Guess I’ll change it.” You end up giving in, a tone in your voice that tells him you’re being kind making that decision.

He overlooks the sassiness in your voice to comment, “Good because you’ve been my home and lockscreen for a while.” knowing that it would bring you out of your jokey state. 

Though, you still are in it because you chuckle and reply to that with a mocking, “Lucky you getting to see my ugly mug every time you’re on your phone.”

“Shut up.” He calls you out almost hissing under his breath, “You’re gorgeous. You’re everything.” There’s something laced around the last word he lets out and Amelia finally lifts her head up when she sees you dramatically letting your head fall back on the seat and you clearly flustered at whatever your boyfriend has just said. She squints when she sees the glimmering of your eyes being a product of the tears starting to pool in your eyes. 

Matty hears you sigh heavily and he’s the one to melt completely when you say, “Don’t make me cry this early in the morning, Matty.” A call for him to have mercy on your heart. You can’t believe he has you acting like this in the morning in the middle of the airport.

Amelia takes the chance to chip into the conversation, even though she can’t hear Matty, and she leans into your side so she can loudly say into the speakers of your phone, “Please don’t. You know what she’s like when she’s overtired.”

You roll your eyes at your best friend but she flips you off as she sits back straight, not managing to listen to Matty replying with a, “I do, indeed.” followed by him talking to you directly afterwards, “You best sleep on the plane, baby.” 

“I’ll try.” You halfheartedly promise. It’s only a 2 hour flight back so you don’t know if you’ll be able to catch sleep that quickly after boarding, and if you do, you’re afraid you’ll wake up all grumpy from only getting a fleeting rest.

“Okay, I’ll let you go now then.” Matty offers you softly, and knowing then that you’re so soon due back beside him makes his heart squeeze in his chest, “Can’t wait to see you soon baby, I’ve missed you.”

This time, you just can’t hold in your stupid little giggles and they slip through as you reciprocate, “Me too. See you soon, baby.”

Every minute that passed after the call ended felt infinite to Matty. It was like the seconds elongated cruelly and he couldn’t stop fidgeting around his house whilst he waited for the clock to strike a time that was logical for him to set off to get you and Amelia. 

It got even worse when he got there and he waited outside with a cigarette between his lips, hoping that every drag would soothe him while he eagerly waited for you to walk out. Hoodie up to hide his curls and sunglasses on the bridge of his nose to not garner any attention. Thank god it worked because everyone seemed to pass by completely ignoring him and he could peacefully settle where he was standing for a bit. The relief Matty felt when he watched your plane land on the tracker though was like nothing else, it would only be a short while before he got to be with you again. 

The feeling that washes over you when you walk out of the arrivals doors and Matty sees you is indescribable. The smirk he offers you makes the feeling increase tenfold inside you and fills you with warmth when he walks closer to you and Amelia and you hear him greet you with a cheeky, “Hello you.” over the noise of your cases rolling on the pavement beside you.

“Hiya baby.” You greet back with a loopy smile on your face, you feel your face heat up and the tips of your fingers tingle with the need to trap him in a tight hug.

“Dimz.” Matty says to your best friend who’s smiling beside you, a tilt of his chin in acknowledgement.

“Hello Matthew.” Amelia replies and she comically and dramatically runs to hug your boyfriend before you can.

You watch her case roll away slightly as she lets go of it and you hear the soft ‘oof’ Matty lets out when Amelia crashes on his chest but he still wraps his arms around her shoulders and sweetly clutches her to him. He keeps his eyes open and his smirk is still stuck on his face as he embraces your best friend so you slowly finish walking up to them and say, “Alright then, I see how it is.”

A giggle escapes you when he reaches one of his arms out and grabs your wrist to pull you in and includes you in the hug with a breathy “Get in here.” that he says in between a chuckle. You find yourself letting go of your case too and wrapping your arms around the two people in front of you.

Being so close to him, you can smell his scent again and you’ve never been more relieved to be drowning in the smell of cigarettes mixed with a hint of weed and his aftershave. It lights up your face, your grin only getting bigger when you’re met with his face merely inches away from yours, “Hi.” 

“Hi.” Matty says back and he leans over Amelia’s shoulder to close the distance and trap your lips in a quick kiss. 

You only get to relish in the feeling of his lips on yours again for a split second because when you lean back and your lips separate with a soft smack, Amelia is pushing herself away from you both and dramatically gagging. 

She scowls jokingly at you two, and acts like she’s fed up with the PDA, “You’re sickly cute, it’s annoying.” You know she’s joking and it makes you snort in laughter, Matty only smirks harder beside you as he snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you in close to his side.

Welcoming the feeling of his body melting against yours, you let your head fall on his shoulder and pucker your lips to drop a chaste kiss on his jaw just before he says, “Lucky I’m dropping you off at home Dimz, because it’s only gonna get worse.”

Amelia sighs but she sees on your face how hard you’re trying not to actually throw yourself on your boyfriend, so she calls Matty out to taunt you, “Hug your girlfriend properly, she’s missed you.”

Matty coos and, pressing his lips to your forehead, his lips brush against your skin when he asks, “You missed me baby?”

You feel your face heat up thanks to Amelia so easily exposing you but you know you can’t play it cool and try to hide it from your boyfriend so you pathetically mumble, “Always.” in response.

Just hearing the subtle despair seeping through your voice makes him quickly turn on his heels to properly crush you in a hug that you two so desperately had been needing. Your arms wrap around his neck and his go around your waist, fingers digging into your flesh as if he was preventing anyone coming and snatching you away from him. 

It’s clear what it is and you feel it just the same, your fingers coming up the back of his neck and you feel the goosebumps rising on his skin before your fingers get lost in his curls and you hum in bliss when having that feeling back. Barely a few days had gone by since you last saw him but god did you miss him. Your nose brushes the stubble growing on his face, and you feel his lips brushing the skin of your neck almost teasingly before he leaves a trail of pecks up your neck until he reaches your ear. You inhale deeply at the tingles that rush down your spine, thinking about how you don’t want to be anywhere else but here. In his arms. For as long as you can.

“Did you sleep on the plane?” He whispers in your ear and you have no idea if you want to laugh or cry at the fact that he knows just what to ask.

Sheepishly, you shake your head and mumble, “Nope…” 

And with that answer, Matty slowly pulls back to look at you and, as if it is the only important thing in the world, he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear and says, “God, let’s get you home to bed.”

~*~*~*~

Dropping your best friend off was quick and easy, and it left you and Matty to enjoy the rest of the trip back to yours. He left your heart warm even in the quiet moments when he did nothing but hum along to the tunes the radio was playing and rest his warm hand on your thigh. It’s silly how such small details could make you so happy but by god you really are.

The second your flat's door is unlocked, you come in followed by Matty and you all but run to your room. Dropping your stuff by the threshold of your room, you go straight to the bathroom and take a much needed shower. It feels so nice being back home and feeling the warm water rain down on you in the comfort of your own space is so soothing.  

When you come out, you find your boyfriend already waiting for you to get in bed so you quickly change into an oversized top (which is definitely Matty’s) and a pair of joggers (which you also stole from him), and blow dry your hair in a hurry to finally throw yourself in bed with him five minutes later. 

The moan of pleasure you let out at the comfort of your own mattress and being wrapped in your boyfriend's arms makes Matty chuckle. 

“This is heavenly.” You mumble against his chest, which is bare since he shed himself of it as well as his hoodie, and he clutches you even tighter to him.

“I know.” Matty agrees, letting his head rest atop of yours and he leaves a kiss there before whispering, “Finally.”

The breath of relief he lets out matches yours, and you let your eyes flutter close as a smile breaks out on your face. It just feels so right and you feel the way you just melt into the bed and his hold. The heat he exudes so familiar and just what you’d been craving all along. 

You’ve got no grasp on time or reality when you peel your eyes open again. The only thing you know is that you had squirmed in your place and subconsciously wanted to nuzzle into your boyfriend’s neck only to find your cheek squished against your pillow and the other half of the bed empty. 

Blinking your eyes repeatedly, it takes you about half a minute to come to your senses and sit up to look around your room. It’s when you’re squinting to see if his hoodie is still on the floor where he dropped it earlier that you hear a sound coming from your kitchen and you spring up quickly to head over there. Of course, not before snatching his hoodie from the floor and putting it on you, letting the fabric swallow you comfortably. 

Your bare feet softly and quietly pad through the hallway until you get to the kitchen and there you find him, with his shirt back on (unfortunately) and his back to you as he stirs something in a pot. The smell of cooked chicken fills the room and when you walk up to him and snake your arms around his waist from behind, you can see he’s made chicken alfredo. 

He tenses up for a second before he relaxes again and it makes you giggle before you compliment, “Oooo… Looks delicious, baby.” It also smells delicious and you’re bathed in this warm feeling that makes you wanna kiss him all over, so you leave a trail of kisses from his shoulder going up his neck until you go on your tiptoes to smack the last one on his cheek. “Thank you.”

Matty hums in response, that smile of his tugging at the corners of his mouth and it makes you smile just as big. He lets his head tilt to the side so it knocks into yours and he can’t help but feel all gooey inside when you hug him that bit tighter.

He turns off the hob and allows himself to glance at you as you walk over to the fridge. When you open it, you let out a soft gasp seeing it far different from how you left it back at the start of the year when he convinced you to join him on tour. It’s full, you giggle like an idiot when you see the cans of Tango lined up on one of the shelves and in the freezer you can see he’s gotten you a few tubs of your favourite ice cream.

“Thought I’d go to the shops for you whilst you rested.” Matty comments sweetly and a bit shyly. 

In an instant, you’re almost leaping towards him and crushing him in a hug. A hug that lasts a mere few seconds because you pull back and cup his face with your hands to trap him in a dizzying kiss that he welcomes gracefully. His hands coming to cup your arse and squeezing it makes you laugh so you break the kiss, and he takes advantage of the way you throw your head back in laughter to drop a bunch of kisses up your exposed throat. 

One last peck is left on your lips before your boyfriend pats your arse and instructs, “Take a seat for me, baby. Food is ready.”

The grin on your face grows even more and the apples of your cheeks start to hurt when you occupy one of the chairs in your kitchen. You watch attentively as he walks around the place so smoothly. He gets a pair of plates and then walks over to the fridge to get you a can of Tango, cracking it open before setting it in front of you and he doesn’t pass the opportunity of getting another kiss from you after you thank him for the drink.

His tongue sticks out slightly as he plates his creation and you bite your bottom lip as to not giggle when you see him puff his chest out at the sight of what he’s made for you. Matty gets cutlery for the both of you and brings the two plates over to the table. 

“Thank you baby.” You say sweetly when he places the plate in front of you, carefully getting the fork and knife from him and you wait until he settles on his own seat before digging in. 

Your eyes roll back and you let out a moan at the taste of the first forkful of pasta you get, and the pride in his face makes him look absolutely stunning. With a hand over your mouth, you swallow and let him know just how delicious it is, “This is so fucking good.”

Matty hums proudly and he digs in himself. He feels your gaze on him, waiting for him to agree on how good he’s done and when he swallows the bite he’s taken, he matches your smile, “I did pretty fucking good, didn’t I?”

The laugh that elicits from you is music to your boyfriend’s ears and he’s beaming at you as you say, “You really did.”

After that, you fall into conversation and, despite being at yours and the setting being so mundane, you find yourself thinking about how much this feels like a date and you fucking love it. 

You love being like this with him and finding the different aspects of him, and getting a taste of the sweet things he does for you makes your heart swell in your chest. Especially when he tells you just what he got you from the shops and you want to throw yourself at him and kiss every inch of his face when he tells you that you’d yet to see he’d gotten your favourite snacks. 

Time continues to pass as you talk about everything and nothing, gossiping and laughing and just enjoying each other’s company. The more the clock ticks, the more you find yourself thinking about how you could get used to having this forever. And it’s not as terrifying as it might’ve been before, now it’s exciting and it’s almost like you’re impatient for the rest that’s to come. 

It's warm and tender talking to him, and the both of you seem to not be able to stray too far from physical contact either because your legs are hooked around each other underneath the table and you're holding each other's hand across the table. At one point you can’t not take a picture of his hand beside his drink that he was clearly finished with because he put his fag dimp in it. You can’t really believe that the man with dad tattooed on his wrist is actually your boyfriend now, it still shocks you when you think about how long you’ve admired this man from afar and now he’s all yours. 

When you’re done eating, Matty suggests going out for a walk, thinking you might want some fresh air and maybe let out some of the energy you might now have after the rest you got. But it’s cold outside and, despite him mentioning that he has a spliff to share, you don’t wanna leave this bubble that you’re in with him. So you shrug it off and instead mention how you don’t mind smoking weed inside and it becomes a plan then, going back to your room and getting high together in bed. 

Considering he’s cooked for you and done your shopping, you offer to take care of the dishes and he reluctantly lets you while he cleans the table and gets you two the snacks you want to take with you. Once you do your bit and put everything in the dishwasher, you and Matty head back into your room. You’re both just feeling overly affectionate and cuddly with each other so it’s no surprise when you end up in each other's arms again. This time though, you don’t end up falling asleep, no instead you end up chatting each other's ears off. 

At some point, you’re not really sure how long passed before you got up and took the both of you a drink. But when you come back, instead of lying down beside him again, you lie across your bed and rest your head at the bottom of his stomach. 

“Tell me something I don’t know about you yet?” His words are just as delicate as his touch, his right hand, with which he’d just lit the spliff alive a minute ago, threaded through your hair and softly brushed it back and over his stomach. 

You let the drag you’d taken relax you even further by letting your eyes flutter close but you still enthusiastically try to get more of what he’s saying, “Oooo… like what?”

His sharp inhale reaches your ears and you smell the smoke lingering in the air as he throws a bunch of questions out, “Anything? What was your first pet called? Your first job? What crazy stuff did you and Amelia get up to in high school?” 

Pinning each question inside your mind, you open your eyes and reach up your hand for the joint, bringing it to your lips leisurely and taking a slow drag. You let it swirl inside your mouth and down the back of your throat for a few seconds before exhaling the smoke upwards, a blanket of bliss brought by the weed enveloping you nicely and it makes you smile as you answer, “First pets were goldfish I proudly won at a fair when I was little and I called them both Tom and Jerry.”

A short, but amused, “Nice.” is what you get from Matty and it makes you giggle, you pass him the spliff back and let your hands clasp together over your stomach.

You still show your pride at the chosen names for your (now very dead) goldfish, being smug when adding, “I know right. I loved that programme as a kid.” 

Matty hums in agreement, “It was a gooden.”

And then you remember the rest of the questions so you continue answering with ease, “My first job was in a cafe. Worked way too young.” He feels you shake your head on his stomach, your hair tickling his skin that’s showing as his shirt ridden up. “I worked cash in hand at fifteen so not even allowed to legally work. I stayed there for a while until I was eighteen then I went and worked in a bar but I hated it and I quit after three weeks by handing my boss a post it note that read ‘I quit’ with a little smiley face on it.”

A soft gasp comes from your boyfriend and it makes your smirk bigger, “No you didn’t…”

“I did.” You assure, proudly. You’d never been prouder of yourself than back then, and it had been so relieving to gain the courage and finally make that decision because that job made you absolutely miserable.

Matty chortles at the joy on your face when recounting the story but he’s still curious, “You’re so funny, what did your boss say? What did they do?” 

You shrug nonchalantly, much different to how you felt back then, and answered his questions, “They knew I hated it but they were very kind to me and took it and let me leave without giving notice.”

“That’s nice of them.” He points out, elated for your past self having had an easy time with that situation.

With a nod, you agree, “Yeah they were really nice.” You watch as he takes another drag of the joint, and after flicking the ashes on the ashtray he had placed on your bedside table, he hands it to you just as you’re trying to think of the answer to his last question.

“As far as crazy shit me and Ames got up to, it wasn’t interesting.” There’s no insanely crazy and out of hand story that comes to your mind, and you have to remain in silence and think about it really hard to remember something slightly crazy in your boyfriend’s standards. Inhaling a bit of smoke clears your memories up and you smile thinking about a memory that was now incredibly funny to you, “There was a house party once that ended up with flashing blue lights and everyone had to run home before we got caught underaged drinking.”

Curiosity shines on his face, he perks up atop of your pillows and rushes you to continue with an eager, “Do tell.”

You chuckle at his impatience and get right into your story, “We were at our friends house, I’d say we were fifteen, maybe sixteen, and it was a really good party, I think it was just for the girl’s birthday or whatever but that doesn’t really matter. It ended in disaster though when one of the girls who clearly couldn’t handle her alcohol tripped and went head first through the glass sliding doors.”

His loud gasp and the quick, “No.” that he let out in response makes you laugh even harder, squirming on his stomach and making him smile at the way your hair tickles his sides.

With a nod and taunting wide eyes, you continue after taking another drag before handing the spliff back to him, “Yes, and it was all Amelia's fault. Because this lightweight had spotted Ames having her first kiss outside and she ran to tell us and as she was running back to the back door she tripped and went straight through it. Turns out Amelia and this lad obviously closed the door so they could have some privacy but that turned into a scene from Casualty and I had to deal with a fuming best friend because she had her first kiss ruined and we all had to run home.”

“How selfish of the girl to purposely ruinthat for her.” Matty chuckles sarcastically, your head rising and falling a little as he laughs picturing your best friend being selfishly fuming.

You play along, holding your giggle but Matty can see and hear just how big your smile is, “I know right.”

“What were you doing as she was kissing her man?” Your boyfriend asks curiously, spliff held right by his parted lips but not closing around the filter just yet because his inquiries were more important to let out than taking a puff, “Who were you kissing?”

“Oh no I was inside talking to our friend’s Mum eating pizza.” You snort out in laughter faintly remembering that happening, but despite the weed making everything feel light and feathery, your amusement is still brief and the corners of your lips fall to turn your smile into a flat line, “I didn’t have my first kiss until I was nineteen.”

“Nineteen?” Matty’s eyes go a little wide in surprise, “Really?” He’s just a little confused because you’re so beautiful, and Amelia has shown him pictures of you when you were younger and you were just as pretty back then. How no one would have snapped you up he really doesn’t understand. Anyone would be lucky to be with you. 

“Yep,” You sigh, thinking back to it, “Perks of spending most of my teens struggling to figure out if I really liked boys and girls, and worrying that if I was ever caught kissing a girl someone would tell on me and I’d have to come out before I even truly figured it out myself.”

He has to take a few seconds to process what you’ve just said and his heart squeezes in his chest when thinking about you feeling trapped in such a dilemma when being your true self should’ve been always the obvious choice. He gets it though, it’s all easier said than done so he nods with a soft smile on his face as he looks down at you, “Completely fair enough baby.”

It wasn’t your intention to make things serious all of the sudden, though you know it is a piece of information that your boyfriend should know to know you even better, but you find yourself coming back around to what had come up before your bisexual trauma piece and you smirk as you carefully pick your words to get his curiosity rising once more, “Funny story, my first kiss was your fault.”

He frowns a little, “My fault?”

“Yep, it happened at your show.” You explain and chuckle seeing Matty looks absolutely dumbfounded. He makes you chuckle as you continue, “Yeah so there was a cute guy as I was in the pit for your show and we were chatting and flirting a little as we were waiting for you to come on.”

You make sure to turn your head to the side to look him straight in the eye when you get to the interesting part, wanting to perfectly see his reaction to the story, “Then you came out and everything was fine, I was loving it. And I think it was before you performed Sex you said ‘if you wanna get off with someone whilst you're here, this is your moment’ and once you’d started we sorta looked at each other all coyly before he kissed me. Was amazing, so yeah thank you for that.”

There’s a long few beats of silence that go by and you're left holding your breath and pressing your lips together not to burst out laughing. The only noise you hear is the burning of the spliff as he takes a long drag, his cheeks hollowing and a frown on his face when he holds the smoke in the back of his throat for a few seconds before exhaling. He then breaks the silence by letting out a mumbled, “I have no words.” that let his disbelief shine through pretty obviously.

“Shut up.” You say in between giggles, you shake from the laughter over him and your cheek is left pressed over his We Are Kings tattoo, which is peeking from the bottom of his shirt, the hair that adorns his lower stomach tickling your skin.

It’s almost like your boyfriend can’t stop himself when he quickly follows up with an important question, “Did you get with him?”

To his relief, you shake your head and shrug nonchalantly, clearly showing how little you actually cared about it other than the experience having been fun and very on brand for you. “Nope, never saw him again after that night. Never even caught his name.”

Almost like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, Matty sighs, but he still frowns as he admits the burning feeling scorching his insides and leaving a slight bitter taste in his mouth, “I feel like I shouldn’t be jealous, but I am?”

You can’t take him seriously though, so you cackle loudly, letting your head turn back so you lie there facing up to the ceiling. Only once you managed to control your laughter, you poke him on his side and call out a mocking, “Oh shut up.” before plucking the joint from his fingers and bringing it to your lips. 

The next few minutes are spent leisurely smoking after having fallen in a comfortable silence. The smoke lingering in the air over you like a warm fog that only had you two sinking further into the mattress, the warmth that your skin touching exudes is heightened under the influence of the weed, and the feeling of his fingers carefully brushing through your hair makes you hum in utter bliss. 

Like a film reel, you watch the day back and when you come back around to the stories you’ve just shared with him, your eyes go wide as your curiosity shocks you back to life like a bolt of electricity.

“What about you? What was your craziest house party? Did Denise ever tell you off for any?” The words come from your mouth in a hurry, stumbling behind the other and he flinches at the way you quickly shift in your place, startling him as he had his eyes closed and was relishing in the quiet that had drowned the room.

Matty blinks a few times before managing to realise what you’ve just asked, and he clears his throat before he can mindlessly say, “She was okay when it came to parties to be honest-” He cut himself off when a memory came rushing to the forefront of his mind and his eyes go wide when remembering what had happened, “Oh my god…” He mutters first and then he’s carefully recounting, “There was a time I got caught when she went on holiday.”

You’re definitely intrigued by his reaction, but you expect a wild story if it comes from Matty. You knew how much of a little shit he had been in his teenage years from interviews and stories you’d heard so far but getting to hear a new story excited you almost childishly, “Oh yeah?”

What you weren’t expecting was for him to follow up with, “Yeah, but I got caught two years after it happened.”

Matty sees your mouth open agape at the detail, your brain a mush trying to sort out the chances of that happening but you can’t so you quickly ask, “What? How?”

“It’s the stupidest story. Doesn’t even sound real but I swear it is.” He says as a preface and you become more intrigued by the second.

A loopy smile shows on his face, his eyes crinkling at the edges and his voice sounds amused like he’s holding back a laugh as he narrates, “I threw a party when I was seventeen when my Mum and Dad had gone away on holiday and they had this jeep they would never let me drive because I didn’t have a licence. So this party I decided, you know what imma drive this fucker while they can’t stop me.”

You can’t help but cackle at the way he talks about his defiance, it’s contagious as he chuckles along with you before he continues, “There were a few of us at this party right, they were all cheering me on except for Hann.” 

You almost want to coo at the mention of Adam being the only one to properly use his brain, “Of course, because he’s sensible.”

But your boyfriend scoffs loudly and refutes your point, “He was a fucking bore and a cock block.”

Another loud cackle slips past your lips, a smile appearing on his face despite his efforts to appear serious about the matter. He has to press his lips together not to giggle at the mischievous smirk that shows on your face before you say, “Matty, you shagged his cousin. He can't be that good at cockblocking.” 

Matty snorts at that, knowing Adam’s blessing meant nothing to him at one point in time when he was horrendously head over heels for his cousin. Matty just laughs, “Flo just couldn’t resist in the end, okay?” 

“Yeah,” You roll your eyes, knowing exactly what happened between him and Flo and that was certainly not the case. Sarcasm and disbelief is thick in your voice when you add, “I’m sure.” 

“Hey!” Matty frowns down at you, offended that you don’t think he’s irresistible. 

“I’m kidding,” You chuckle, taking the blunt off him and taking a puff before you prompt him to, “Carry on.”

“Right so, Adam was the only one to be like ‘no, don’t do it’ but of course I went and did it anyway.” Matty explains twirling a strand of your hair around his fingers, “Me, George, Ross and our mate Pete in the Jeep. Hann stayed at the house because he was a boring prick.”

You scoff at that, shaking your head as you declare under your breath, “So nasty.” 

Electing to ignore that comment, your boyfriend continues, “And we drove to the field just across from mine, opened the gate and started leathering it around this field doing skids and stuff. Then we got to the gate for the next field across and George got out and opened it for us and we went about in there too. But then we realised our mistake.”

For some reason you find yourself smiling in anticipation at that comment since you know it means that’s when the trouble started, and you look at him as you take another drag as he carries on to tell you the full story.

“There were horses in that field, so after we realised we headed back to the first field but George didn’t get back out and shut the gate and we spooked them too, so after we’d done more skids and turned back to close the gate, the horses had come into that field.”

As you laugh, the smoke comes out of your mouth too, making Matty watch you as you declare, “You idiots.” 

“No, what made us idiots was thinking we could on our feet herd up the horses getting them back into the other field.” The beginning of an embarrassed smile makes its way onto his lips now. He almost doesn't want to tell you, but he knows it’ll be worth it when he hears you laugh again if he does. 

Matty takes your offer of having the blunt back and he explains before he has another puff, “We did that for about half an hour and it was raining at that point and we were getting muddy. We went back to the car defeated but then because of the skids and the rain the Jeep got stuck in the mud and we were stuck.”

You can’t help the gasp that leaves you, “Nooo, what did you do?”

“We had to walk back over to the house and had to get Hann to help us.” Matty sighs remembering just how much shit Adam gave him that day, how he told him multiple times it would be a bad idea and he wouldn’t let him forget he was right.  

“Long story short, Hann made me call the farmer the next day and he towed it out. Then Hann, being the only one old enough to drive, had to take it to the car wash for us and we had it deep cleaned and he drove it back to its spot on the drive. And thankfully when Mum and Dad came back they never noticed.”

You laugh practically being able to hear in your head the way Adam had told him off for his silly activities. After being on tour with them and getting such a better insight to their whole dynamic you just know Adam wouldn’t have let Matty get away with random shit he pulled as a teenager, and that’s hilarious to you, the thought of Matty being scared of cute little Adam Hann. 

Matty can’t help but smile at the way you're giggling. God he actually loves you so much he thinks his heart just beats for you, his heart racing getting faster at the sight of you all happy and hearing your loud laugh. 

Your giggles die down but you can’t keep the smile from your face. You’re too happy right now, everything about this evening has been the best and you’ve loved this story so much. Hearing even the tiniest thing about his past makes you so happy, like you’ve got to know him even better and on a deeper level. It warms your heart massively. 

“Wait,” You pause for a second, remembering how the conversation started out, “You said she caught you two years after it happened? How? Did the farmer tell your Mum and Dad?” 

“No, it's worse.” Matty signs, not believing he’s about to admit, “A fucking areal photographer knocked on our door two years later and showed Mum the pictures he took years ago and the fucking Jeep was in the middle of the field with horses around it. I got bollocked. Me and Flo were upstairs in my room and we just heard a booming ‘Matthew!’ from downstairs.”

You let out a little giggle, unable to help yourself, and it warms Matty’s heart as he plays with your hair. You have to ask him, “Did you shit yourself?”

“Big time.” Matty smiles, “No clue what it was about until I saw the pictures and then I just had to accept my fate.”

“I bet Flo was pissing herself.” You look at him as you say that and you already know the answer from the look on his face. 

“She was. She bullied me relentlessly after it happened, especially since we never told her about that one.” He tells you as he stubs out the last of the blunt and waits for the drug to take full effect. 

You hum, “She wasn’t at the party?”

“No, she only came over from Sheffield in the summer and it was maybe like March when we did that.” Matty tells you, “She wouldn’t have condoned it anyway she’d have stopped us like her cousin tried to do.”

You accidentally cackle once more, entirely amused at the fact that he got caught the way he did. It’s so fucking funny to you, your uncontrollable laughter starts again, “I can’t believe you got caught two years later.”

Matty can’t help but join your giggles, “Me neither.”

A sigh comes from you when you manage to calm back down, and then you’re calling him out further, “And you all thinking you were cowboys and could get the horses back.”

He scoffs, offended, before he’s correcting you, “Hey, I look good in cowboy gear.” 

You make a hesitant noise, letting the seconds drag and making a show of acting like you’re really weighing his words. His mouth hangs open as he watches you and you have to bite your tongue not to laugh again before you conclude, “Now, maybe.”

Both of you end up quietly giggling, but then Matty tries to tickle you and you plead for him to stop, absolutely hating being tickled. Before you’ve let it slide but this time you fight back, managing to get enough distance between you so you can try and pin him down but as you know you’re going to fail you end up just leaning down to gently bite his bicep. 

With that, Matty stops in a little bit of shock. You look up at him, trying not to smile but failing miserably. Your boyfriend is struggling to keep his smile away as he asks, “Did you just bite me?” 

You completely fail not to grin, it being too funny to not, and you just shrug, “Maybe.” before letting him go and falling to the mattress just beside him. 

You turn on your side so you’re facing him and your boyfriend mirrors you, both of your heads sharing a pillow and you’re hopelessly grinning at each other. 

“Hey.” You start by saying, stupidly really, just as much as the grin on your face while you take in every little detail on his pretty face.

“Hi.” Matty says back, flashing you that crooked smile you adore so much.

Your heart swells in your chest as you grow nervous at what you’re about to ask, “I have a question for you.”

He nods and then prompts you to, “Go on.”

It’s stupid how you have to take a deep breath before you can ask him, “Will you be my date to our Valentine’s party?” 

Matty is your boyfriend and you don't need to be worried about him turning you down but you still grow even more nervous when he frowns in confusion and says, “Valentine's party?”

“Yeah we’ve done one for the last few years but this year it’s all about Amelia because I’m not single anymore.” You explain easily, wanting to hide your face behind your hands by the end though, because his smile turned into a smirk that made your cheeks heat up.

His hand reaches out for yours, intertwining your fingers and bringing your joint hands up to his mouth. He drops a peck on the back of your hand and his lips brush against your skin when he replies, “I would love to come, when is it?”

“The evening of the ninth?” Your answer sounds more like a question since you know he’s due to go to New York tomorrow, unsure of when exactly he’s coming back.

But to your relief, he clears it up for you, “I get home early on the ninth so yes, I’d love to come. I could come straight here so I could get ready with you?”

“Sounds perfect.” You state with a loopy smile coming back to your face now that you’ve got that sorted out. 

Matty can see you getting lost in your thoughts and he would let you so he can admire every bit of you as you do, but he has an inquiry of his own so he drops a few kisses on the back of your hand to catch your attention and when he sees your eyes widening slightly and focus back on him, he starts, “I have a question for you now.”

“Go on.” You say with a cheeky smile, copying his same words.

“Will you come to the Brits with me?” Your boyfriend asks, breathy words like he’s doing it just as a joke. 

He was so sure you’d say yes so it’s a complete and utter shock when you mutter a quick, “No.”

His brows shoot up and his eyes widen, he actually retracts and there’s a distance between you to accentuate his shock at your reply. His words come out filled with despair and confusion, “No? Why not?”

You want to laugh but manage to hold it back as you explain, “Because I’m already attending and interviewing.” 

Once you clear that up, relief washes over him and you feel him go from tense to letting his shoulders relax and melt back down on the mattress. It’s like a flip has been switched, his eyes grow a little dark and mischief is written all over his face, “Are you now?”

“Don’t get excited, you will be getting ignored.” Is your warning to him since you can almost see inside his mind and know that he’s planning to pull a number on you on that red carpet.

His answer is a simple, “No.” that you have to fight against yourself not to giggle about. 

You clear your throat, willing your amusement away before getting serious again and chatting back, “Yes. You’ll be treated like any other regular attendee.”

His exaggerated offended face is back on, jaw dropped and a frown to accentuate the way he says, “You could never. I’m your boyfriend.”

It’s your time to play with him, so you smirk and challenge with a cheeky, “Watch me.”

At this point, Matty knows you don’t play about when it comes to your job so he sighs, dropping his facade to actually find a way to work out how to have you with him that award night. “Well can you at the very least sit with me? Be my date at the table?”

You want to agree to at least that, but you have to ask, “What about Ames?” because you’re not leaving your best friend to fend for herself. 

“Dimz is more than welcome to join.” Matty smiles, not thinking for a second that Amelia wouldn’t be joining you, “There'll be plenty of room.”

Your smile is huge knowing you’re going to accept his offer, but you hum for a few seconds as if you’re weighing your options. But of course you end up accepting, “Okay then.”

Matty chuckles at your fake deliberation, and he leans in to quickly kiss you sweetly. After he does, he stays close and mumbles against your lips, his grin still huge, “Can’t wait for you to interview me again and for your facade to fail.”

“I will not break.” You pull back just enough so he can tell you’re serious when you demand, “You’re not allowed to flirt with me. I’m only allowed to awkwardly flirt with you.”

It’s Matty’s turn now to hum as if he’s thinking about it, but then leaving you with a rather threatening, “We shall see.”

“Matthew.” You raise your eyebrows, warning him.

But he just comes back with a playful, “Y/N.” that matches your demanding tone.

Leaving you no time to argue, Matty leans the short distance forward and attaches his lips to your own again. 

It’s slow and delicate, soft inhales coming from the both of you as your lips move in sync like you’ve got all the time in the world. The weed has lulled your senses and you find yourselves giggling in between kisses, lips smacking and smiling against each other’s mouth before going back in. 

His hand, which had been resting on your waist, easily trails a steady path up your body as his mouth continues moving against yours. The warm touch leaves goosebumps in its wake until he cups your jaw, wanting to keep you in place whilst he props himself up on his elbow and starts lifting himself up to hover over you. 

Once he’s on top of you, the curls you adore so much brush against your forehead once and your hands quickly move to the back of his neck and up into the locks so you can dig your fingers in and pull them however you please. 

Your fingers buzz with this energy like just brushing his skin erupts a sizzling electricity in between you two that has you feeling elated. He moans when you pull harder on his hair and your mouth parts wider to let out a whimper that he swallows. He tastes like the smoke you just shared, and it’s so inherently him it just makes you even dizzier. 

You love it so much, you start mumbling your sweet thoughts against his mouth. It’s a struggle to understand but it’s an even bigger struggle to stop kissing, the desperate urge to say what you’re thinking makes you pull harder so you can break the kiss. He groans at the sting of it but his heart soars in his chest when you let out a breathy, “Obsessed with you.” 

Matty barely manages to reciprocate with a rushed, “Me too.” before he dives back onto your mouth. It’s desperate when your lips crash together again but he melts into the same deliberate pace he’d set before when your tongues meet. 

At this very moment, you’re entirely his. Every single one of your senses are completely captivated by Matty, your sight, smell, hearing and taste bleeds into one and it’s all him. The man you adore so much, who makes you feel like you’re the most important person in the world and feel like you’re being worshipped. 

Everything about him consumes you, and you’re almost too busy realising how lucky you are to notice that his knee has come to rest between your legs until you roll your hips and the sudden friction against your clit makes you gasp. Pleasure overtakes you and your hips start grinding against him without you really thinking about it, the feeling so good that you’re whimpering and moaning into the kiss. Matty groans, feeling himself getting hard just from the sweet sounds you’re making and the way your pace picks up as you try to get off on his thigh.

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath, looking down and catching the erratic movements of your hips. His mouth dips down to your neck, starting to kiss and suck on your sensitive skin, only making your mouth hang open even wider and your throat drying as you continuously gasp.

Your hands fall down his neck and onto his shoulders, wanting to pull him closer to you, but when you dig your nails onto them and you feel the fabric of his shirt covering it, you’re whining out your instructions, “Take your clothes off.”

He chuckles, playfully digging his teeth on the side of your neck before lifting his head up to chat back, “You’ve got too many clothes on.” You’re the one wearing a hoodie over your shirt after all, so you win him over by a piece of clothing.

“Take them off me then.” You challenge him and the look on your face is enough to have him smirking. 

Your pupils are blown out in lust, chest heaving as you try to regain composure but he still takes the chance to taunt you by simply calling you, “Lazy.”

“I’m sleepy.” Is what you counter with, partially true since the spliff has made you sleepy but it’s mostly his presence and touch which has you dizzy and loopy out of your mind. Matty has you dazed and you’ve got no problem giving yourself up to his mercy at the moment, you just want him in any way he’d allow.

But of course, when Matty hears this he has to stop, his expression softening when your words reach his ears, his lips falling in a sweet pout of understanding, “Are you? Should we just go to sleep then, baby?”

A stern, “No.” quickly leaves your lips, and you add a shake of your head just in case. 

He’s still wary, his hand coming up to softly brush the skin of your cheek, “You sure?”

There is no doubt in your mind and you nod gently, a dopey smile on your lips as you tell him, “I want you.”

The smirk that pulls at the corners of his mouth makes you wanna roll your eyes and groan in pleasure, he looks so fucking good above you with unruly curls falling around his face like a halo, his eyes darkened by need and his lips pink, swollen and wet from all the kisses you’ve shared.

Mischievously, he dips down until your noses brush and his lips move tauntingly against yours in a ghostly but deadly touch when he asks, “Do you now?”

It’s easy to say, “I always do.” in admission when you’re wet and throbbing for him already. 

“Simp.” He quips, pushing himself up the bed so he can kneel on the mattress as he takes his top off. He comes back down with a smirk growing on his face, and when he’s merely an inch away from your face, he lets out a chuckle that hits your parted mouth.

Raising a brow, you take the chance to tease him back, playfully correcting his word choice, “Horny, more like.” Emphasising it by letting your eyes shamelessly go down his naked chest and taking in every inch of his skin, the sight just makes your mouth water and your brain fill with the most sinful thoughts so you catch your bottom lip between your teeth to muffle a moan.

With a shake of his head, your boyfriend resumes his attack on your lips, both of you giggling as he does. Soon the giggles die though when his fingers become more intent with their hold on your jaw, making you moan in response but when you go to continue relishing on that delicious friction you’ve created by rolling your hips on his thigh, you find he’s purposely moved his leg away. 

You whimper at the loss, almost like the start of a tantrum and he knows exactly why that is. The smirk that breaks on his face makes it impossible to continue kissing, yet you’re still desperately leaving wet kisses on his lips, before guiding them down his jaw and neck.

Your focus has been entirely taken by wanting to mark him up, to hear those addictive moans of his, to feel him shudder when you get to that sweet spot at the bottom of his throat; but you’re completely distracted from your task when his hand snakes down your body, into your joggers and he feels how wet he’s already made you. 

Mewling against his lips as he starts drawing circles on your clit through your soaked underwear, your small begs are thankfully heard. Your boyfriend moves the material that's separating him from you to the side and teases your clit again. 

You choke on your breath, the pleasure feeling more intense with your muscles relaxed and mind numbed from the weed combined with you not having been with him in a week. It’s all a little much, yet you need more.  

And you’re glad you’ve reached the point where you don’t even have to ask for what you want, he already knows. It’s sweet relief when after a minute Matty drops his hand and sinks two fingers inside you, euphoria taking over, the stretch so sweet you roll your hips trying to get more.

A loud moan gets stuck in your throat, your head thrown back and your mouth agape, your eyes rolling back into your head and your back arching when he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that spot perfectly, “F-fuckkk, Matty.”

“Right there baby?” He asks breathlessly, his own mouth opening agape just watching as you begin to crumble beneath him.

You hum, your eyes shutting tight and biting your lip as he starts picking up the pace. Your voice all pleasure stricken and raspy, “Oh fuck- Yes. Feels so good, baby.” 

Your arm wraps around his neck, nails digging in the flesh of his shoulder to keep him right there, not that he was going to move when he had you becoming a mess for him like that.

Matty leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, wishing he had taken off your hoodie to bite and suck and lick your tits, he could see your chest heaving and sweat coating your forehead, hair sticking to it as you gasp in pleasure.

“So fucking pretty, sound so sweet for me baby.” He mumbles in your ear, his hot breath making you shiver and clench around his skilled fingers. His voice still low as he praises,  “You like that? My sweet, gorgeous girl.”

There’s no shame in you that could have you denying that, you nod and it’s almost missable if it wasn’t for your soft hum of confirmation. Matty smiles, kissing you sweetly again as he presses the heel of his palm against your clit, sparking the pleasure that runs up your spine.

You’re drenching his hand already, the coil in your lower stomach tightening with each stroke of his calloused fingers. It’s not long that you've been together, but he already knows you so well, easily having you falling apart for him in just a few minutes. 

Stretching you out further, he adds a third finger and this time, your loud cries of pleasure come out of you with ease. It makes kissing him impossible, when so overcome with the euphoria running through your body, making you buzz with ecstasy, all you can do is whine for him.

Matty’s hot breath mixes with yours, your parted mouths right next to each other, your half lidded eyes trying to stay open so you can hold his gaze as you grow closer to your orgasm. A buildup that only gets more intense when he starts rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb as he continues pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt. 

“Baby you’re so wet for me. Makes me wanna taste you.” He whines, sharing his lustful thoughts with you, his lips pressing kisses at the edge of your parted mouth. You whimper in response, almost drooling in pleasure at the thought of that tongue of his dipping into your cunt and flicking your clit until you cum all over his face. “Gonna make you cum on my fingers first though. You’re so fucking good to me, you deserve to cum on them, no?”

“Yes.” You pant out desperately, licking your lips and nodding your head to agree with him. Tugging on his curls harder, you quietly plead, “Please baby. Feels so good.”

He hums and smiles to himself, his hips grinding softly against your thigh in an attempt to relieve himself as you’ve made him so hard. He finds his search for relief through you though, needing to make you feel every ounce of pleasure before he gets any. He kisses down your jaw, and hums into your ear, “I know, baby. You’re gonna cum, yeah? Gonna be a good girl and cum for me?”

Your walls clench around him as he continues with his filthy words, nodding to say that you will, silently promising to do nothing but be good for him. He can feel you so close to the edge and he will not stop until he has you convulsing beneath him, he whispers, “Drench my hand baby.”

You mewl as you start rocking your hips more intently, meeting him in the middle, fucking yourself on his fingers and your legs begin shaking as you near your climax. The filthy whispers coming from your boyfriend only pushing you closer and closer to your inevitable release. 

It’s not long before you’re letting yourself fall over the edge and fall apart beneath him entirely. Your brows furrow and your lips part to let out the prettiest moans he swears he’s ever heard, your back arching and making your chest press flush with his so he can feel your pebbled nipples through the fabric of your hoodie. Your legs shake and close to trap his hand there, but he uses his legs to keep you spread apart so he can ride your orgasm out. 

Blood rushes down to Matty’s cock, as if getting harder was even possible, but he moans back at the feeling and the sight and the way you entirely come to take over his senses. A warmth coats his insides and he can so easily pinpoint the feeling as it contrasts yet compliments the hunger and the need for you that burns within him.

When you fall limp on the mattress after properly coming down from your high, your boyfriend brings his slick coated fingers up to his mouth and lets out a low, pornographic moan when he tastes you. He does his best to clean his fingers up with his tongue, not wanting to waste a drop of your arousal and all he can think about is how he wants more. He needs more.

But first, he takes on the task of ridding you of your clothes. You’re sweating and there’s a hint of discomfort in your face that he attributes to feeling too hot so he takes your hoodie off first, throwing it somewhere behind him and then he moves back to peel your joggers from you.

The sight of your ruined underwear makes his mouth water, wanting nothing more than to taste you properly again. He dips down and starts kissing up your thighs, drinking in the way your legs continue to shake with his ghostly touch. Every exhale that hits your skin makes you shiver and the tingles that run up your spine from his proximity now that you’re so sensitive makes him want to push yourself over the edge again. 

So much so that when Matty gets closer to your cunt, he asks, “Can I have a taste, baby?” 

He’s almost hurt when you shake your head no and pull his hair to bring him back up to your face. Moving back up, you see he’s frowning like he’s despaired over the denied opportunity to eat you out and have more of your taste on his tongue. 

It makes you giggle, in return breaking his pout, and you cup his face carefully and you pull him in for a kiss that just screams thank you before you demand, “I need you to fuck me.”

The tone in which you say it makes it sound like a plea and Matty groans longingly hearing your wishes. There’s nothing he’d ever deny you, ever. And if you’re to ask for anything, he’d give you only the best. 

And so he’s intent with the way he kisses you. His tongue meets yours instantly and makes you loudly mewl when you taste yourself on it. His fingers digging in the flesh of your waist whilst his other hand comes to wrap around your neck, keeping you in place and eliciting more moans out of your when he presses on the sides so he’s deliciously choking you. 

You’re so sensitive though, you don’t think you can take any more without him being buried deep inside you so the moment he breaks the kiss and pulls back for oxygen, you beg, “Baby please, I need you.” Your hands cup his face with desperation that seeps through your pores, you whine, “Need you please, baby please.”

The guttural groan that rumbles from his chest and up his throat makes you clench around nothing. His lips come back on yours with force, it just screams passion and need, desperation to translate every feeling rushing through him in a way that you can understand without having to say those words he so badly wants to utter.

“My baby’s so fucking good, she says please.” He praises, his hand falling from your neck to join the other one on your waist and lifting your top up and off you so he can have you on show for him. “My baby’s so fucking beautiful and she’s all mine.”

His hot mouth instantly catches one of your nipples, your back arches in pleasure. One of your hands cradles the back of his head to keep him there as he sucks and flicks on your nipple, biting it before moving onto the next one, leaving you a moaning mess beneath him. Your other hand has a white knuckle grip on the sheets beside you, as you writhe under him becoming wetter than you already were after your orgasm and sending you into a frenzy as you feel your oversensitive self start going in the direction of another orgasm. 

It isn’t only his mouth and his touch that’s ruining you, it’s those words of his leaving you dizzy. You had no idea it could get better than before but right now it’s proving that wrong and you don’t know how to gather your bearings when it comes to it. So you let yourself go, of your fears and any inhibitions. 

“Baby, I need you.” You beg in between pants, “Please. You.” You don’t think you’d ever need anybody else. It’s him, and it’ll always be. You’re sure of it.

In a haste to prove that your wish is his command, Matty lets go of the skin he was attacking with a pop, licking it as if to soothe the abuse that is probably going to end up in a bruise. He starts a wake of kisses up your chest and neck until he finds your lips again and he kisses you with a sense of devotion that could make you shed tears. It’s reciprocated and he knows, in the way you hold him and how your body responds to him, the way you take your time and indulge in the feeling, the way your eyes flutter close and you sigh in utter bliss when he holds you. 

When Matty breaks the kiss so he can shed himself of his last piece of clothing, he watches as your eyes shine with adoration and he swears his heart explodes in his chest. His heartbeat is erratic and a mess, entirely out of control under your spell, just like he is as you’ve bewitched him, body and soul. All he can see, hear, breathe or feel is you and he finds that being entirely drunk on you is nothing but a dream. A dream he wishes to never wake up from. He loves you so so much. 

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby.” He promises as he hovers over you again, his joggers now discarded somewhere in the room. He’s propped himself up with his forearm pressed on the mattress and his other hand comes to wrap around his length, bringing it to meet your core and rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your folds. “My baby deserves it, yeah? Always so good to me.”

He watches as the precum on the tip of his cock mixes with your arousal and the sight is so lewd he could bust right then and there. But you snap him out of his trance, feeling like he’s doing this to taunt you, “Matty- Baby, please.”

There’s no actual worded answer, since he just captures you in another kiss but it is brief for when he lines himself up and starts sinking into you, your mouths go slack and you can’t do much more than moan into each other’s mouths. Matty goes slowly until he bottoms out and when you’re filled to the brim of him, you let out a shaky breath. 

Brushing the curls that are sticking to his sweaty forehead with a loopy smile, “Move baby, please. Need you.”

You’re still so sensitive and he can see it from the way your legs tremble around his hips, and he can feel it from the way you’re clenching around him. He doesn’t know if he’s gonna last if you keep talking like that, definitely not if you’re squeezing him like that and if you start drowning the room with those pretty sounds of yours. But god does he want to give it to you nice and slow, so you can feel every bit of each other, so you can savour every second and engrave it in your minds to never leave your memories. 

“Perfect for me.” Matty mumbles as he draws his hips back slowly, until it’s only the tip that’s inside you, just to fill you to the hilt steadily again. “Like you were fucking made for me baby.” He sets the pace, slow but delicious and your moans mix in the most gorgeously pornographic harmony. 

You can feel every vein and ridge, how he stretches you out and drags in and out is heavenly. He groans and moans with every thrust and when you start meeting him in the middle with the roll of your own hips, you both melt into absolute messes. 

“Fuck, Matty.” A mewl leaves you, eyes rolling back in pleasure when he picks up the pace just slightly and hits that spot over and over, “Don’t stop baby. Just like that.”

“Right there?” He asks thrusting deliberately again and when you loudly moan in response, he sighs in bliss, “My girl. All mine. My perfect girl.”

The room is charged with this sense of worship that speaks for the both of you, bringing you closer without a need to use words. In the air, a hint of smoke still lingers but it’s lost and faint in between the aroma of sex, the sounds you’re making and the creak of the springs of your bed. 

Your bodies stick together thanks to the sweat that coats them, the warmth that exudes out of your pores enveloping you together in the most staggering way, almost on the brink of being entirely overwhelming but not being suffocating, more like captivating in the way you’d only dreamed of finding. 

You feel complete, as if you two were meant to fit together and there’s nothing that has ever felt more right. The way his hips snap against yours, the sound of the faint slap of your skin when they meet, your fingers tangled in his curls, him hiding in the crook of your neck, being so close to each other you feel the beating of your hearts and knowing it’s just right when they sync. 

“Baby, I-.” You try to warn in between moans, your ankles wrapping around his lower back to keep him right there where he is.

Your boyfriend has no intention of moving though, being so close to the edge himself, “Me too baby. Fuck.” 

“Need you.” You beg. It’s all you want, all you need. You have to feel him all over you, within you in every sense, just like he already is.

He shudders at your petition, not knowing how much longer he can last with that image in his head. His brows scrunch up as he tries to hold out for longer. His slow but hard pace doesn’t falter for a second, to give you what you want, to make your wishes come true and to have you cum with him because he can’t hold out any longer. 

He groans, sweet nothings being drowned by the sound of your hips meeting, “Gonna give you all you ask for. Always.”

Matty’s hand moves under your thigh, moving it higher, opening you up more to him so his pelvis hits your clit and you jolt at the friction, and it only adds to make your approaching orgasm come faster and harder. Your back arches and you loudly moan in his ear as you cum, all you see is white and you can hear his moans far away like your soul has just exited your body. 

“Oh fuck, baby!” His hips stutter as he cums, but he makes himself continue as he spills inside you, needing to give you all he can so you can ride out your orgasms. He wants to give you his all, his absolute best. 

It hits him again all at once when he opens his eyes and sees you blissed out below him. He loves you so much, his heart beats entirely for you. Selfishly he wishes that all your smiles belong to him like this one does when you open your eyes and see him grinning at you. 

He can’t stop himself from leaning down to kiss you sweetly, hoping that you can somehow understand the I love you he’s trying to say without actually telling you. He’s half sure you somehow understand and he’s happy with that for now so after another peck he lets himself fall limp over you, hiding himself into you when you start blinking your eyes open again.

Nothing is said afterwards, everything being spoken through with actions. His lips leaving sweet kisses on your chest and his fingers drawing faint circles on the sides of your waist. Your fingers brushing his hair back and off his forehead, nails scratching softly at his scalp and making him sigh in content.

It feels like every piece has fallen into place then and you know in your heart what that means. Your brain is fuzzy and you feel the best you’ve ever have, so the smile on your face is inevitable. You wish you could just bottle up the feeling in this very moment and cherish it forever, take a sip of it whenever you’re away from Matty because you know you’ll need it in the future. 

However, you push those thoughts away, focusing on how perfect it feels to be held and cherished by him right now. Enjoying every second of this feeling that you know so well which you’ve finally uncovered with him.

A few minutes of silence go by, the only thing you hear is your settling heartbeat in your ears and you know Matty can hear it too, but you don’t mind. You hope he hears what he’s made of you, a fool for him and only him and you know you’d proudly admit it if anyone were to ask.

The feeling becomes even more prominent when he picks his head up and looks up at you with a loopy smile, one that you mirror before you even get a chance to hear him ask, “How does a shower and facemasks sound?”

“Sounds perfect.” You giggle, god this man knows the way to your heart, “Deal.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

There’s a chill in the air when you wake up, one that makes you want to sink back into your bed and never re-emerge. Half asleep, you turn over and pull your blanket and duvet further up so it covers your shoulders hoping to find refuge in the warmth you’ve created, but as you move, you’re pleasantly reminded you’re not the only one occupying your bed. 

Even in his sleep Matty adjusts himself to have you next to him, needing you as close as possible. And it’s when you feel his arm wrap around your waist and pull you that bit closer that you blink your eyes open just to see if he’s woken up yet, not wanting to miss a second with him remembering he was going away today. 

But he’s right there, next to you in bed with no intention of leaving anytime soon. His fingers digging into your waist as he holds you closer even in his sleep; not even deep in his slumber does he risk you getting away from his hold. 

Seeing him so peaceful, lying beside you with his mouth parted as he softly exhales and his curls spilled over the cotton of the pillow case, you feel your heart squeeze in your chest. In the silence of the room, you find yourself holding your breath like your shaky exhales could disrupt the notion that just became crystal clear: you love him. 

You deeply do, and it’s a love so easy that it just adds to the things that complete you. The way you love an iced coffee regardless of the weather, even if you scold yourself when your fingers go numb as you walk back home or to the office but your heart feels full at the taste of the cold bitterness running down your throat. The way you love listening to rain hit your windows when you’re hiding under your blankets in the warmth of your home. 

He’s become home. Possibly the most important part of it. Somebody you can be entirely yourself with, who seems to cherish you the way you dreamed of someone doing as a kid. Matty’s the one who’s made you believe that love is possible again, something you don’t have to be so scared of anymore. 

It’s strange, recognising the feeling you’d previously lost all hope of experiencing again after making peace with the fact that love was never destined for you. But now it’s resurfaced, and this time it's more intense, so much more overwhelmingly strong than it ever was years ago.  

It’s so relieving knowing that you can have it back and with him but it also terrifies you when the feeling is a bitter reminder of how it had escaped your grasp so long ago, entirely against your will, by someone else’s hand. It’s not like you’re expecting Matty to be reckless with your heart, but experience has led you to be wary and despite wanting so badly to freefall into it all blindly and just driven by the fact that you know you love him, you owe it to yourself to tread these waters carefully. 

You promise yourself that you’ll keep it to yourself for a while, make sure that this isn’t just a honeymoon phase with someone you really like and that you’re not just getting ahead of yourself. It’s difficult since after last night you know it all meant something more, maybe you just want that confirmation from Matty first. 

So you’ll let yourself feel it, protecting your heart a little by keeping silent, but you hope you can tell him in every way other than verbally. You love him so much. You haven’t been this happy in a long time. 

You know it’s a little selfish of you, but after realising you don’t want to waste another second of your time with him or not. You want to see his gorgeous brown eyes again, see that goofy smile you love so much and have him hold you like he never wants to let you go. 

So you don’t give it a second thought when you lean in to him and peck his lips a few times. And because that’s nowhere near enough, you start pecking his whole face in an attempt to wake him up and it takes no time at all. 

Not even a minute goes by until he’s tiredly blinking his eyes open, but even then you don’t stop your small attack. Not until that adorable grin takes over his face and he starts lowly chuckling, gently stroking the skin he’s found available to him on your waist. 

He looks as happy as you feel, your heart so full that seeing him like this makes you think you could melt. Something that you practically do when Matty puckers his lips and you give into the desire to have your lips against his again. 

It's slow and drawn out, but you would have him no other way. Kissing the man you love in bed fairly early on a Sunday morning, it’s everything you could ever want. If you’d have told your past self last year that this would be your future you’d have called yourself crazy, but you’re so beyond glad it’s real. 

You’re in love. And the man who owns your heart pulls you closer into his body where you bury yourself into his neck and wrap your arms around him. Both of you lie there quietly for a while longer pretending there’s no rush at all and you have all the time in the world to stay cosied up to the person you love more than anything. 

~*~*~*~

When you eventually get up, you both decide it’s a cereal in bed sort of morning, both of you opting for coco pops and a long cuddle after you finish. It feels bittersweet for both of you knowing he’s going which is quite sad of you both considering he’s only spending three full days away. 

As you’re both dressing for the day, you offer to drive him to the airport but despite wanting you with him until the last possible second, he planned on leaving his car there until his early arrival to get him back home faster on Thursday, and eventually back to you in time to get ready for your party. This gives you some time to think about something, which ends up with you pathetically overthinking about a little thing that you really shouldn’t be worried about. 

Yes it was too soon to tell him that you loved him, but giving him keys to your flat you thought was a small gesture to let him know that you trusted him enough that you want him to come and go as he pleases. Of course you would want that, you just didn’t know how to bring it up, so you put it off until the last possible second. 

“Matty, before you go…” You stop him before he has a chance to collect his bag. 

“Yeah?” He smiles, definitely glad that you’ve stopped him from leaving. He’ll take anything to stay around you for a little while longer. 

“Last night you said that you were due in early on the ninth?” You double check, your anxiety peaking making you not quite believe your memory. 

“Yeah,” He nods, “I think at like 3am.”

“I- I just wanted to,” You stumble on your words, before you take a deep breath and bite the bullet, “Well I wanted you to have these.” At that you dig into your pocket and pull out your spare set of keys and hold between the both of you. You can’t quite decipher the look on Matty’s face so you drop your gaze and play with the keys as you ramble.

“So you can let yourself in and, you know, come and go as you please. If you want them anyway.” Overthinking, you panic a little thinking he may believe you’re being selfish, “And I’m not giving you them so I don’t have to wake up to come and let you in- I just-” Pausing, you close your eyes for a second and after a deep breath you relax enough to say your simple truth, “Yeah, I just wanted you to have them.”

That was just about the cutest thing Matty has ever seen. Still avoiding his eye contact you don’t see how he’s started grinning like a fool. God he loves you so damn much, he wishes he could tell you already. 

Your boyfriend steps forward and gently grabs both sides of your face tilting your head up so he can see your pretty eyes again. When he does, his thumbs caress your cheeks as he grins, “You’re so damn cute, baby.” 

“I’m not,” You press your palm against your forehead, close your eyes and whisper, “That was so awkward, I’m sorry.”

“You're not awkward.” He giggles, wrapping his arms around your waist, trapping you in a hug, “You're adorable being all nervous.”

“Don’t embarrass me before you leave.” You mumble as you hide yourself into his neck, your arms wrapping around his waist and holding him tightly. 

“I’m not,” He grins, kissing the side of your head, “I just love it.” I love you. It’s all he wants to tell you. 

That statement has you chuckling, knowing just how much he likes to make you feel all flustered. But you can’t help but whine a little, “I feel like we've done things so backwards.”

Matty’s eyebrows pinch together a little, pulling back from the hug just enough to look at you curiously, “How'd you mean?”

“We’ve lived together for almost a month and now I'm nervous to give you a key to my flat,” Not to mention I’m in love with you is on the tip of your tongue, “It's weird.”

“We’re weird.” Matty grins, pulling you against him a little more and kissing you sweetly after he says, “Doesn’t mean I don’t love what we have any less.”

Your heart thuds twice as fast hearing him say that. It makes you want to tell him that your heart is well and truly in the palm of his hands. That you’re his, that he’s it for you. That you love him. 

But it's far too soon. Far too risky.

Matty graciously accepts the keys you once again offer him, and he quickly adds them to his own keyring as he teases, “Thank you for giving me them, baby. I promise I won’t sell them on the black market and leak your address.”

That has you giggling but you play along and nod sincerely, “Thank you. Appreciate that.”

Matty chuckles again, pocketing the keys again and wrapping you in another big hug. He squeezes you tight as he declares, “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you more.” You mumble into his shoulder, holding him even tighter not wanting him to go.

It's pathetic of you considering these goodbyes will probably be the easiest you face. Him only being gone for a few days instead of a few months at a time which you’re aware you’ll one day have to face. Today just feels that little bit more challenging because you’ve realised just how much he means to you and you’re scared to let him go. All you want is to wrap yourself up in bed with him again. 

“Doubt it.” Matty hums, knowing there’s certainly no way that’s possible. 

“We’re so soppy.” You giggle a little before scorning yourself, “Who have I become?” 

“A simp.” Matty declares, looking at you with a cheeky knowing grin, “But you've always been one of those for me, haven’t you?” 

Gasping, you grab his hands to try and pry him off your waist as you scorn him, “You know too much, get outttt!”

“But I don’t want to.” Matty whines, tightening his grip so you can’t get away and he’s pleased when you relent and let him keep ahold of you. He buries his head into your neck as he says, “I’ll cancel on Jack and stay right here.”

As much as you would absolutely love for him to stay here and kiss your neck until he’s bruised your skin, you don’t let him cancel his plans. Your fingers wind up in his curls and you tug a little on them so he shows his face as you try and make him feel better about his trip, “You’ll be back before you know it, and I’m only ever on the other end of the phone.”

“Promise you’ll answer?” Matty puts his best puppy dog eyes on for that question. 

You grin, “Always.” As if you’d ever ignore him. 

“Unless you’re asleep.” Matty adds, knowing you far too well.

But even so, you’d give up sleep to talk to the man you love. But of course you need to keep his ego under control so you don’t let him know that just yet. 

“Unless I’m asleep.” You grin, happily playing with the curls at the nape of his neck as you grin, “I’ve trained you so well. Such a good boy.”

Matty squeezes you tighter hearing that, a physical and verbal warning, “Don’t say that or we'll be going right back into your room.”

And as much as you would absolutely love to have him begging for you to praise him back in your bedroom, you’re all too aware he has to be on a plane in the next few hours. 

“Let’s not think about that before you're racing to catch your flight.” You chuckle, trying your best now to get him excited, “Come on, you've not seen Jack in ages, you'll love it once you're out there.”

“I suppose.” Matty sighs, but he has to stop himself from carrying on to sincerely say but not as much as I love being with you.

You hum and smile knowing you’re right and you adore the way Matty doesn’t seem to be able to stop himself from stealing a kiss and then planting so many more all over your face until you’re giggling like a schoolgirl. Hearing your laugh is one of his favourite sounds on the planet, and he’s glad he’s got to experience it one more time before he goes. 

Once the attack of kisses ceased, you go on your tiptoes to trap him in a proper one. A kiss to express what you can’t quite let yourself say yet but you hope he feels regardless. It’s sweet, certainly loving, and you adore the way you both melt into each other and drag it out not really wanting it to ever be over with. 

Unfortunately, it does end with Matty saying a bittersweet, “I’ll see you soon.” 

“Have a safe flight.” You smile, reluctantly slipping out of his grasp to get one of his bags for him, “Please text me when you’re boarding and when you get there.” 

“As soon as I’m downstairs I’ll be texting you, baby.” Matty smiles, “Don’t have to worry about that.”

For a minute you say that you’ll come down to see him off but he makes you stay put, not wanting you to get cold. That and he’s sure it’ll be easier to drive away from you if you’re not actually waving him off. 

After collecting his bags, and both stand at your open door, you whisper, “See you soon.” not wanting to actually say goodbye at all. Thankfully, you manage to steal one last kiss which your boyfriend is more than pleased about, despite it being that little bit harder to go. 

“See you soon baby.” He just about whispers against your lips before he pulls away and he heads out of your flat towards the stairs. 

Of course, you play the lovesick housewife for a second, watching as he leaves at your door. It’s simpy of you, yes, but you’re in love and you don’t even feel a little shy about it when he catches you. Matty glances back just before he’s out of your line of sight, and he blows a kiss at you which you catch and blow one right back to him with a little wave. 

The I love you’s stuck in each of your throats, neither daring to utter the words as you disappear from the other’s view.

~*~*~*~ 9th February 2023 ~*~*~*~

In the short time you were away from each other, rarely did you feel out of contact considering there was an ocean and a five hour time difference between you. Truthfully, you felt closer to Matty than ever. 

With nothing to do at home other than prep for the Brits, which at this point you’ve met most of the attendees at various events now, making your research light work, you’ve spent most of your time messaging or Facetiming your boyfriend. 

Daily pictures were sent of you both in your various get ups, Matty demanding ones from you even if it was the same joggers as the day before just because he wanted to see you. And when he sent you the multiple options he had to wear, asking you to please help him choose, you were more helpful about taking the piss about him packing so many clothes for a three day trip to New York. 

Matty would surprise you with pictures of random places around New York, ones he stumbled upon on his walks around the city, which were always accompanied by some text along the lines of Doesn’t this place look sick?! Saving it so we can come here next time we’re in New York xxxx

He was making it so hard for you not to call him just to yell I love you!!! 

Before you knew it, the days had passed by and he was at the airport waiting for his plane home. Something which you pretended not to be too excited about despite knowing you were about to get the man you love back. 

Sleep didn’t come easily to you that night, like it did most other nights. No, instead you were restless, tossing and turning all night, probably a little too excited that you were getting your man back. You thought sleep would help pass the time faster but instead it dragged it out, made the wait so much more antagonising. 

You think it might have been around 2am when you eventually got to sleep, which is painfully close to the time he was due to land which in the morning you would scold yourself for not managing to stay up for. But it would not matter soon, when he’d open your door with that key you gave him before leaving and he’d come to be the best interruption to your sleep.

Matty didn’t hesitate for a second to drive to your flat from the airport, wanting nothing more than to curl up next to you in bed and stay there for as long as possible. The drive felt longer with how tired he was, despite sleeping on the plane, but thankfully the 50 minute drive he managed to do in 35 thanks to the lack of traffic and breaking a few speed limits. 

A massive smile made its way onto his face as he pulled his keys from the ignition and saw the ones that would allow him into your home. He felt so lucky, it made him want to get you a key cut to his at the earliest opportunity. He’s a little disappointed in himself that he didn’t think of exchanging keys before you did. 

Despite practically running up the stairs to your floor when he opens the building with the fob, he’s extremely quiet when he opens your front door. He’s not surprised when everything is dark and silent in your living room, he expects nothing less than you being fast asleep in bed which when he finds is true, his heart soars.

Matty finds you all cosy in bed, entirely passed out, your heated blanket that he got you for Christmas wrapped up around you and he can’t help but grin at the sight of you. He’s so happy to be back but he can’t help but quickly and gently brush the few strands of hair that are over your forehead away so he can place a kiss there. 

He’s thankful when he doesn’t wake you up, knowing too well what you’re like without proper sleep. Not wasting more time, Matty strips himself down to his boxers and gently pulls the covers back and slowly eases himself down onto the bed in hopes of not waking you. 

However, the cold air hitting your skin must have made you stir because before Matty even has the chance to pull the covers up over him or turn towards you, he hears a tired but heartfelt, “You came.”

He could cry hearing how surprised you sounded, as if he wouldn’t come when he’d already promised. Matty grins as he shuffles closer to you, raising his arm as he sees you moving to him so he can cuddle you properly, saying, “Of course I did baby, you asked me to.”

Of course you come and steal a kiss, finding his lips surprisingly easily considering your eyes are closed and you’re still half asleep, and Matty would chuckle if he didn’t find you so damn adorable. Even more so when you practically lie on top of him, hiding yourself into his neck and declaring a mumbled, “Missed you.”

“Missed you so much more.” He whispers, pulling the covers up for you more so you don’t get cold, “Go back to sleep.”

He feels you hum against his neck, entirely satisfied with that instruction, and he’s sure there’s a faint smile on your lips as you mumble, “I’m so glad you’re back.”

Matty’s sure his heart leaps from his chest hearing that. It certainly beats faster and he can’t help but hug you closer and kiss the top of your head, “Me too baby, so much.”

It’s about 20 minutes before your boyfriend’s eyes start closing, but by then you’re long gone, back into the deep sleep he disturbed you from. So Matty thinks it’s safe enough for him to whisper, “I love you.” to the girl of his dreams. 

~*~*~*~

“You’re so pretty.” It falls from Matty’s lips for at least the third time in the past hour as he sits on the toilet seat lid and watches as you do your make up. 

His words never fail to make you smile like a fool, so you stop doing your eyebrows to grin at him through the mirror, “You’re too cute.” 

“No, I’m being serious, you're so stunning.” He insists, his curls bounce softly as he shakes his head in disbelief of your beauty.

Rolling your eyes, you sigh. It’s unfair how much of an effect he has on you, your stomach flips and your chest tightens at the amount of love you feel for him. “Stop making me flustered.” Is what you mumble before going back to stare at yourself to continue your makeup.

Matty is ready to go after he had taken a shower and put on a suit that had you biting your bottom lip when he walked back into the bathroom as you did your hair. So he’s patiently waiting for you to finish getting ready, just staring at you in awe and completely in love. 

At first, he had been on his phone as you loosely curled the ends of your hair but when you started doing your makeup, he quickly forgot about the device to gawk at you. After audibly voicing just how gorgeous you were and you jokingly asked for him to stop making you flush, he kept quiet and stuck to just drinking in every little thing you did. Like the way you softly and precisely apply your eyeshadow, how you hold your breath and lean in closer to the mirror as you apply eyeliner to your waterline, how you cock your head to the side to make sure you’ve done a good job with your highlighter. 

But soon a soft frown appears on your face and before he can ask about it, you’re the one to say, “Can you help me please?”

“With what baby?” Matty replies softly, quickly rising from his place to walk towards you.

Your boyfriend walks up until his chest is pressed against your back and he drops a little kiss on your shoulder, attentively listening as you explain, “You used to do really good smudged smokey eyeliner and I want a bit of that but I can’t do it.”

Another peck is pressed on the skin of your shoulder and then you feel the vibration of his understanding hum. He straightens up to look at you through the mirror and asks, “Do you have any vaseline?”

You break eye contact to drop your gaze on the mess you’ve made by the sink, “I think so… here.” 

Handing him the small container, he takes a short step back and wraps his hand around your waist to turn you around to face him. He’s so smooth with his actions and he knows it, a smirk plastered on his face when you come face to face with him, one that you kiss away with a short peck before hurrying him to work his magic. You’ve already put the eyeliner on but trying to smudge it out with your brush like you thought was the way to do it hadn’t worked so you’re just waiting for your boyfriend to do what he used to do for his own eyeliner back in the day.

Matty opens the lid and dips his finger slowly to gather enough for both of your eyes. Your eyes flutter close when his finger comes up to coat your eyelids with a bit of vaseline to rub on your eyeliner. He smiles feeling your hands clutching softly onto his waist, your fingers tapping his clothed skin in a rhythm that he can’t recognise. 

It takes about a minute or two for him to be satisfied with his work, and you smile when hearing him mumble to himself as he rubs delicately but precisely, trying his best to make both eyes look as similar as possible. 

At the loss of his touch on your eyelids and the silence that envelops you, you open your eyes slowly and meet with your boyfriend flashing you the sweetest of smiles. 

“Bit too much, here,” Matty uses the excess on his finger to run it along your lips, smoothing them for you and he smiles when they have a pretty shine to them and his job is done. 

It takes everything in you not to smile as he does it. But he can see the smile in your eyes as he watches you press your lips together to make sure they’re evenly coated. Your boyfriend grins, “Gorgeous.” before quickly dipping down and pecking your lips. 

“Thank you, baby.” You say before turning around to see yourself again, and to say you’re amazed with how well he did was an understatement.

Your mouth falls open in awe of how good it looks, and the giddiness inside you translates into a loud gasp as you smooth a few strands of hair off your face, “It looks so good!” 

Matty smiles bright and proud behind you, his hands on your waist squeeze there a little before he reiterates, “Look stunning baby.”

With the heat that rushes up to your cheeks, you’re not sure you’d need to apply any blush but you still do, and after applying mascara on, you’re ready to put on your party clothes.

Amelia and you had planned your outfits to be entirely Valentine’s day related, so while she was wearing a dress with hearts that looked like little balloons, you had decided to go for a little red number which consisted of a red corset and mini skirt. You had little white wings to go with it and knee high stockings that would be clipped to some garter belt suspenders to make your cupid look sexy.

Looking at your reflection in the full body length mirror in the corner of your room, you know you look hot but your boyfriend is staring at you like you’ve handed him the moon and the stars. Matty is shamelessly letting his gaze run up and down your figure, biting his bottom lip as if containing every sinful thought he’s having about you. 

You’re fully expecting some lewd comment to come from him with the way he’s looking at you, eyes dark with lust and hunger that make your insides melt in a familiar heat that has you excited to come back home already. Yet, what he says is a generous, “Want me to clip these for you?” pointing at the suspenders still unclipped over your thighs.

“Please.” Your nod is eager, matching the desperation underlying his words.

You have to suppress a laugh at the speed in which he leans forward as he’s sitting on the edge of your bed and starts clipping the suspenders to the top of your stockings. 

He does the leg closest to him first, keeping his touch slow and ghostly, making goosebumps erupt in your skin and tingles to run up your inner thighs and almost causing you to shiver. But to clip the ones on your other leg, he gets up from his seat only to kneel in front of you, making a show of looking up at you through his lashes as he blindly clips the one on the back of your thigh. 

Raising your brows at him, your tongue pokes out to lick at your lips and when the first clasp is done, he moves his hands slowly towards the front of your thighs earning a smirk from you. This time he has to look down to clip it, but when he’s done, his fingers dig harshly into your skin for a quick second before he groans, “God, you’re so hot.”

Before you can even register his words, which almost sounded like a moan, he dips his head into your leg and bites the flesh of your thigh. His teeth sink into your skin with a force that makes pleasure rush up your spine and you choke out a gasp. Matty hears you and you feel him chuckle against your skin, your words have completely died on your tongue so he drops a kiss over the bite mark he left and slowly lifts himself up to stand up in front of you. 

The corners of his mouth are lifted into a devilish grin that you know is only promising of trouble. The way he raises his brows expectantly is enough to snap you out of your trance and that’s when you scorn him, “What did I say about not making me flustered?”

If you had known what he’s about to say, you wouldn’t have asked. “I’ll stop as long as you’re fully aware I’m fucking you in these when we get home.”

Your jaw clenches in an attempt to stop it from dropping at his words, “You’re no help.”

Your boyfriend doesn’t say a thing, his hands go from your waist to the bottom of your skirt to adjust it merely an inch, but when he says “Turn around.” you still obediently listen.

Matty does the same when your back is to him, pulling your skirt in perfect place before dropping a trail of kisses from your shoulder up your neck until he reaches your ear and whispers, “All done.”

“Thank you.” You shiver against his chest, actually thinking about fully missing the party just to indulge in his touch and his kisses and that promise (more like a statement) he made just a few seconds ago.

“Anytime baby.” Matty grins at you, and just as you’re about to move to look into the mirror again, a hard slap to your arse stops you in your tracks. You gasp and look back at your boyfriend who’s grin has only got bigger.  

Before you can even get any words out, he defends himself, “You can scold me all you want, but you enjoyed it.” 

His teasing words have you speechless, and after not having a single comeback to throw his way you bite your tongue and carry on getting ready. Your stylist, Chloe, Facetime’s you at one point when you tell her that you’re ready once you have your ‘solemate’ Lamoda heels on which you adore because the base of them is a red love heart.

Thankfully Chloe approves of how both you and Matty look together and she even applauds Matty’s handy work with your smudged eyeliner. So much you know he’s going to give her a hug later to thank her, and now you’re just waiting for the chicken nuggets you put in the oven (yes, you’re self aware that that’s predictable and cheesy of you - Matty has already laughed at you for it) to be cooked before you book yourselves a taxi so you get there earlier than everyone else. 

As you wait, you make some final touches to yourselves before you ask Matty to take some pictures of you. He happily does and makes you giggle as he turns it into a full photoshoot. 

He makes you lie down on your bed, standing on your stool to get a good angle and he has an absolute ball directing you into positions he wants. At one point you get a little too into it trying to tease him and he tells you to stop before he ruins your makeup, which with his skills you have no doubt he would do. 

After that threat you end up taking cute couple pictures, a few with your Polaroid and film camera before you get as many as you like on your phones. Your selfies are adorable, you’re being unable to stop yourself from changing your lock screen immediately to the picture of you both smiling at your phone but Matty’s chin is resting on your shoulder, his grin is all gooey, and his mop of curls is messy and unruly just the way you love it. 

You adore the picture just as much as you love the man in it. Even a quick glance at it reminds you of the way he squeezed you so tightly from behind as you took the picture. He melts your heart entirely. 

As you’re thinking about which picture to post on your story, your boyfriend is being vain for a moment and taking his own mirror selfies to send to the boys. But once he sends it off and gets bullied for being a simp for you he pockets his phone and focuses on himself in the mirror. 

You don’t mind your view at all, you watch as your boyfriend moves his curls a few times trying to get it into the place he deems fit. He sighs, settling for what he thinks is mediocre, and he glances at you as he tells you, “I know your thoughts already but I really wanna gel my hair back right now.”

“No,” Your face falls entirely, not wanting to see that mop of curls scraped back, “Definitely not.”

“But why?” He whines, coming back up to you, pulling you into him in hopes proximity will persuade you, “Don’t you think I look good?”

“Matthew,” You sigh, fixing his tie so it’s a little more in line with his top button, “In that suit you’d look like Patrick Bateman if you gelled your hair.”

You were hoping that your statement would deter him from that cursed hair gel, but you watch as his eyes light up, and immediately you know you’ve said the wrong thing. The smile that grows on Matty’s lips is almost like he’s been told he’s won the Euro Millions, and although you adore it when he smiles, you hate that Patrick Bateman of all people has brought that to his face.

At the same time you say, “No.” Matty excitedly nods, “Yes.”

“Matty, no.” You say louder, as he practically vibrates in your arms. 

He excitedly grins, “I would look so fucking good as Patrick Bateman.”

“Yeah you would,” You admit, raising your eyebrows as you say, “But not at my fucking Valentine’s party.” 

Matty chuckles, pulling you firmly against him by his hand on the small of your back, and he smirks as he says in a low tone, “Halloween this year is sorted.”

You tut at that, narrowing your eyes slightly, sarcasm thick in your voice, “Oh, such a great couples costume.”

Your boyfriend grins now, cooing, “Awhhhh, you wanna do a couples costume.”

And it’s not just because you want to dress up together as a couple that makes him feel all gooey inside, it's the fact that Halloween is months from now and you still picture yourself with him. It makes him feel all tingly inside, and he’s so happy that by the time the both of you get to October 31st he will definitely be allowing himself to declare that he loves you openly and proudly. 

“Yeah well,” You sigh, grinning though as you say, “Guess I’ll have to ask Ross to do a couples costume now.”

Matty’s jaw falls at that, eyes narrowing in an instant as he tells you, “No.”

“Well then,” You chuckle, “No Bateman for you.”

“We shall see.” Your boyfriend smiles, looking into your gorgeous eyes that stand out even more now he’s done your eyeliner. 

He can’t help but lean in to kiss you, loving nothing more than you being in his arms and his lips against your own. He hopes he can feel how much he loves you, how content he is with you having his heart in the palm of your hands. 

And seeing your goofy smile when you both pull away from the kiss hits him like he’s just realised his feelings all over again. God, he loves you so fucking much.

Matty watches as you press your lips together for a second before you inevitably ask, “Can I please put some eyeliner on you?”

“So it’s a no to Bateman but a yes to emo me at your party?” Matty can’t help but teasingly ask.

It’s somewhere between embarrassment and shame that you find yourself hating to admit, “You looked fit as fuck with it on back in the day.”

It takes everything in him not to laugh, knowing that you still can’t quite stop getting too in your head about it when he reminds you of your obsession with him. He goes easy on you, just grinning at you before he kisses you once more. 

“Yeah come on then baby,” Matty chuckles, pulling you back into the bathroom so you can do his makeup in better lighting, “Lets make your dreams come true.”

You follow obediently, but not before half heartedly saying under your breath, “Arsehole.”

~*~*~*~

The moment you step foot in the venue, you’re blown away seeing your and Amelia’s vision come to life perfectly. Heart balloons take over every inch of the ceiling by the main entrance to the cafe, the strings attached to them come draping down like a curtain that you have to walk through to get to the main event. A few mirrorballs hiding in between the balloons, glistening in the lights and bathing the place with shimmer.

To your left you see the big red letterbox that you hoped your guests would actually interact with like Amelia and you had envisioned when you came up with the idea of having it at the party.

The bar is filled with spirits and mixers and you can see the coasters you’d made for the party all waiting to be used right by the endless amounts of Ciroc vodka bottles that you’d been sent after the brand had wanted to be part of your little soiree, all of them decorated with red, white and pink hearts and the name of your event on the side. 

There is a big square table with a blue velvet cloth where the big ice sculpture resides: it’s a giant heart with an arrow going through it, with ‘Amelia’s Valentines Affair’ written on it. That was the name of the event as you had thought, since you were no longer single, it would be only appropriate to make this party along with the holiday all about Amelia and play onto the fact that she was still looking for the one as she did when she went on your chicken shop dates. 

Naturally, your best friend had loved the idea of being the main focus of it all so even the photobooth that you had at the back of the cafe, hidden away in a corner, had been branded as ‘Amelia’s Valentines Affair’. 

It had been so much fun coming up with the names of the drinks for the party, and choosing the catering menu, as well as cake tasting for the triple tier cake that was hidden away in the kitchen of the cafe but for which you were so excited to bring out and share with everyone who would attend.

When Amelia comes out of the kitchen and sees you two, she runs to envelope the both of you in a hug. Instantly, you and your best friend start screeching like schoolgirls just because of how excited you are for the evening, and thankfully you don’t have to wait long because it’s merely fifteen minutes later that the first bunch of guests walk through the doors of the cafe. 

With the DJ playing good tunes that had everyone dancing as they sipped on their themed cocktails, sneaking away to the photobooth, taking shots of vodka out of the ice sculpture and taking loads of pictures and videos on your phone, the night slipped away. 

Before you know it, the gorgeous cake is being brought out by your best friend and she gets a microphone that she taps three times before she speaks into it. 

“Hello everyone! Thank you so much for coming and celebrating Valentine’s day with us!” Claps and cheers erupt in the room, wolf whistles that Amelia entertained by flipping her hair and fanning herself like the attention was making her flustered, “Thank you, thank you. I hope you’ve had a lovely time! I was hoping to find the one for me here, but it seems I’m still stuck third wheeling for this hot Cupid that was rudely stolen from me.” Your best friend rolls her eyes playfully while pointing at you and Matty. A chorus of laughter comes from the crowd, your own giggles getting lost in the sea of chuckles. 

Your boyfriend’s hand comes to squeeze your waist and you get all flustered at the attention you’ve got on you two after your best friend’s words. So many people had come up to you and Matty tonight, completely surprised to see you kissing and dancing, admitting that they thought it was a joke for the sake of the date you’d put out with him or something like Aitch and Amelia’s situation.

It would be an understatement to say it hadn’t filled you with a sense of pride to admit that you were in fact together and not for show, your heart bursting at its seams when Matty would smirk and look at you for a second before looking back at whoever was in front of you and saying, “Got incredibly lucky, didn’t I? Can’t believe she’s mine.”

Amelia’s hand waving in the air, as if dismissing your poor job as Cupid, and continuing her speech is what brings you out of your trance. “It’s okay, this just means I can keep taking hot dates to the chicken shops and it’s good that’s my favourite thing! Erm, yeah, that’s all. Thank you all for coming and, what did Marie Antoinette say? Let them eat cake!” 

The music resumes right after that, but a crowd gathers around the table as you and Amelia do the honours of cutting the cake. You two feed each other the first piece and end up laughing uncontrollably when you smudge a bit of frosting on each other’s faces. Soon after, you start handing out pieces for everyone to enjoy the delicious dessert and end the night in the best way. 

When you finally get home and take your heels off, your shoulders hang in relief. Matty scoops you up in his arms the second his own shoes are off, and he all but runs into your room, dropping you on top of your bed softly only to pounce on your lips with a delicious desperation that you welcome eagerly and match with ease.

The second the kiss breaks for you to take a breath, you quickly mumble, “Wait.” making him get off you and going back out your room to get your bag. 

Ever since you’d gone into the photobooth for the first time tonight, you’d wanted to go back home and put up the strips of pictures you took beside the pictures you already have littered around your room. 

Matty watches from your bed as you put the photobooth pictures up, and a huge smile breaks on his face when he sees you take a step back after you’re pleased with the set up and sigh in content at the moments captured in the printed strips. He pushes himself off your bed, taking two short steps towards you until he’s pressed flush against your back, dipping his head to attack your neck with kisses that you encourage as you tilt your head to the opposite side to allow him more space to burn with those lips of his.

A day celebrating love with you couldn’t be complete without properly worshipping you, hoping the kisses he leaves all over you skin as he sinks down to his knees in front of you are enough for you to know he loves you, he adores you, he would do anything for you. 

His mouth is tantalising as it roams your body, as well as his touch and the force in which his fingers dig into your waist when he guides you back on the bed where he makes you lie on your back for him. 

It doesn’t take long for your legs to be thrown over his shoulders, for his lips to leave a fiery trail of kisses up your inner thighs and make you a mess of desire, throbbing and aching just for him. 

Those three words itch on his tongue, begging to be left out, to let you hear them loud and proud but he swallows them the same way he swallows your moans when he traps you in yet another hungry kiss after he’s run up your body with his lips.

And you surely almost let the words slip when he brings you the most delicious pleasure and release over and over again, so intent and attentive to every one of your needs. Every sound you make only pushes him to get more out of you until tears run down your cheeks from overstimulation, ones that he kisses away so delicately your mind is spinning from the combination of it all.

There’s passion and hunger, desperation and lust; but there’s softness and intention, an attentiveness that could make you cry just by thinking about it all over again, and love, so much of it that has you drunker than any alcohol could ever have you.  

The smiles on your faces don’t leave you when you fall asleep in each other’s arms, your holds so tight as if there was any way of being snatched away from each other, your legs tangled too just in case. 

And you dream of each other because there’s not enough time in the day to spend together, your subconscious incapable of more, replete with each other. And you wouldn’t dare ask to have it another way ever again, not in this lifetime or the ones to come next.

~*~*~*~ 11th February 2023 ~*~*~*~

“Hi.” Charli says once she’s in front of you both with a microphone in hand.

You and Amelia wear the biggest smiles seeing the singer, she looks absolutely stunning and you know you’ll gush about it once the interview is over. The white sheer dress she wears hides nothing and you can only be in absolute awe of her confidence because you would never. A true legend and icon is Miss Charli XCX. 

“How are you?” Amelia beats you to ask.

“I’m good. I’m so excited because I'm here to win an EGOT tonight.” Charli smiles brightly and you have to bite your tongue not to giggle. She continues with her EGOT talk saying,  “I’ve won none…” 

It takes everything in you and your best friend to not burst out laughing when she says that.

“Yet.” The three of you say at the same time and smile at each other. 

You’re quick to put in your two cents about it, “But that’s- because there's a conspiracy against you!”

And you’re glad Charli agrees with ease, “I’m- There is! That’s actually true.”

But you wave her off like she has nothing to worry about, “And it's fine because I've brought my sledgehammer because I know you love… blood.”

Amelia can’t help the cackle she lets out after the second of silence passes after your words, laughter in which Charli joins with the same enthusiasm and you end up giggling like an idiot too. You love the popstar possibly too much, and after spending downtime with her on the boy’s UK tour you’ve never felt so close to her, it is truly no hardship at all to have this interview, after all it's more of a fun conversation.

Once you’ve gained back your composure, Amelia, looking lovely in her Union Jack dress, is the one to get things back on track, “Do you think an award show is a good place to fall in love?”

“Yes!” Charli doesn’t waste a second to answer and there’s a hint of a smirk on her face when she looks at your best friend and states, “And actually I think there is a real chance with you and Andrew Garfield.”

You hum and nod, completely on Charli’s side about it and so the singer adds, “It’s real, like I'm just like shipping it.” 

Before you can audibly agree and tease your best friend for the camera, Amelia looks at it and clarifies with that awkward look on her face she plays off so well, “I just wanna say that Andrew Garfield is not nominated for a Brit Award.” You see members of your crew laughing at that, and it takes everything in you to maintain your little persona. 

“Well, you should’ve brought him as your date.” Charli raises her brows as if scolding Amelia for that.

Amelia scrambles for an answer, mouth opening and closing as she struggles to find her words and the only excuse she can eventually find is, “I don’t have his number.”

The popstar gasps at the information but you’re quick to put your best friend on full blast, “We do have his manager’s number…”

That earns a scoff from Charli, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head, “Girl, you need to lock. That. Down. Immediately.”

“I agree.” You nod with a ‘told you so’ expression on your face that your best friend sighs about.

There isn’t another chance to continue teasing your best friend for she resumes the interview, introducing one of the things you’d planned for when it was Charli’s turn to show up on the red carpet with you two, “We actually got you a present.”

“Really?” The singer asks, puzzled by what of all the things you’ve got behind you on the shelves could it be.

“Yeah.” You nod as Amelia goes to retrieve the canned cocktail you’d picked out for her, a passion fruit martini sounded very Charli to you two.

“This is very me.” Charli says as she cracks the can open, holding it out, away from her gorgeous dress, you and Amelia grin at each other before flashing your smiles at the singer.

“Oooo, it’s fizzy that, isn’t it?” Charli says at the same time Amelia deadpans, “Oh my god.”

Taking a sip, both of you watch her intently to get her reaction and as Amelia hands her the mic back so that Charli can tell you, “Well, it's very warm.”

You press your lips together not to laugh, and Amelia stays silent for a split second before just offering her a meek, “Sorry.”

Charli still takes another sip of the drink, because it tastes really good despite it very much not being the ideal temperature. But then her eyes fall behind you to the trinkets you have lined up which somehow make sense to bring to the Brits’ red carpet, and that’s when she sees them.

Pointing behind you, Charli grins, “I love this! ‘I hate Matty Healy’ but I love him, but it’s like quite-”

Amelia reaches behind you to grab one for the pop icon, and she holds it out for her to reveal the full top. “That’s something I made.” Amelia announces, awkwardly smiling between Charli and the camera. 

“Did you?” The singer asks with a smirk, she stares at you as soon as Amelia nods and confirms with a quick and proud, “Yeah.”

“You seen him yet?” Charli is so amused by the way you’re avoiding eye contact by staring at the display of ‘I Hate Matty Healy’ tops.

To your left you hear your best friend reply, “No, he’s avoiding me.” and the soft, “Ahhh.” that Charli lets out, like she understands the situation.

But of course the singer wasn’t going to let the opportunity to tease you pass too easily, “I’m sure with your best mate around he’s bound to find a way to get over here.” A big smirk tugs at the corners of her lips, “Didn’t leave her alone for two seconds on tour.”

That’s enough to have you turning your head back to face her, a scoff escaping your lips before you quip back, “You act like you weren’t attached to George’s hip.”

“Oh yes, I was.” She says back as she flips her long hair behind her shoulder, “I’m a proud groupie, I will admit that.” 

Fortunately, she gets distracted by taking the top from Amelia and admiring the printed hate message on the front of the white top. She chuckles, “I might have to put this on if my nipples aren’t allowed on the cameras.”

You still shouldn’t have let your guard down that easily, because when she cheekily adds, “Do you sleep in one of these Y/N/N?” you’re fully taken by surprise.

Your jaw falls and Amelia snorts in laughter, which turns into a cackle when all you manage to answer is an out of character, “Get fucked.”

You know you should’ve been more careful when choosing your words when Charli turns them against you by quipping back with, “You keep one on when you’re doing that too?”

The loud gasp that comes from you is enough to send the two girls beside you into a fit of loud laughter. They’re so amused by it all that they completely ignore you as you scold the singer, “Charlotte!” 

Even your crew is laughing at you, so you have no backup from anyone. Jokes on them though, this will be getting taken out of the final edit. 

“Oh you’re going to fucking die when he comes over, he’s not going to play along.” The singer warns you when she stops laughing, patting under her eyes softly to make sure the tears that lined her eyes from laughter haven’t messed anything up.

You roll your eyes, “He’s getting no interaction.” And you really have to hold back from crossing your arms and stomping your feet like a child so she knows you’re serious when you say, “Can we get back to our interview please, bitch?”

She’s insufferable though, your tone only amusing her further so she plays on it by calling you out, “Oh, she's getting feisty.” 

With another sigh, you put on a bright smile again, ignoring the way Amelia and Charli snigger as you go up to the display behind you and grab something. “And to leave, I’ve just got some poppers.” You show it to Charli and the camera, an awkward but oddly proud smile on your face at the pun you know the singer and her fans will get when they watch the interview.

“Oh, oh fun. Fun.” Charli says with faux excitement, seeing the party popper in your hand. 

It gets even more awkward when you announce, “Which I will pop.” as you stare right into the camera, Amelia grabs the party popper you’re handing her and she does the same as you with her own awkward smile stuck on her face.

Charli nods and mirrors you and Amelia, “Okay.”

Your last frame with Charli is of the three of you smiling at camera as you and Amelia pop the party poppers, while Charli holds up her new top. It’s so underwhelming and the silence around you makes it so much funnier, you really try hard not to break character and ruin the shot. 

When the tiny confetti hits the floor, you and Amelia break the scene, turning to Charli and hugging her while thanking her for coming over. The two of you shower her in compliments which she gives back to you, she even makes you and Amelia twirl in your places to show her every bit of your dresses and you blush when she says she’ll be stealing you from Matty later. 

Sadly, her team tells her she needs to go, and after a promise of seeing the two of you inside when you eventually get to the table you’re all sharing, she sing-songs, “I love youuuu!”

You wave at her as she starts walking away, matching the tone she used to reciprocate the farewell, “Mmm love you too!”

A soft frown appears on her face as she points a warning finger, “Don’t flirt too hard with my boyfriend, I’ll cut you both!”

And as payback for all the teasing she put you through earlier, you sing-song back with the fakest smile, “No promises!”   

Charli flips you off behind her back and the last she hears before disappearing to the next media section of the carpet is your loud laughter. And your night continues on. 

This red carpet is particularly tricky, your little set being in the corner after the actual carpet where the celebs were getting photographed and where Roman Kemp and the other presenters were doing their bit for the livestream, but before the attendees made their way into the O2. So by the time people were passing you, it felt like they were mostly in a rush to get inside.

You got lucky with Charli, she knew you were going to be there because Matty had told her as she was getting ready with the boys. And you’re glad she came over because you truly felt at ease in your job for the night now. 

Before the queen of pop, you had the lovely band Flo and the girls were troopers, playing up to yours and Amelia's antics with shitty karaoke microphones you brought along. Kim Petras came over and showed you both some of her dance moves that she’ll be doing in her performance later on that you and your best friend embarrassingly mimicked.

In a weird and unexpected turn, Declan Rice made an appearance which was confusing at the music awards ceremony to have a footballer there. But you made the most of it and kindly offered the West Ham player a Manchester United mug which he unsurprisingly turned down but you got the best kick out of it. You might even offer it to Matty later to get him scowling at you. 

And after you interviewed the lovely Greg James, that was when Charli wondered over and you got bullied. Alas, the rest of the night must go on and now you are feeling fabulous. 

Aitch came next and you really don't know how you and Amelia kept it together when she offered him his fake box of belongings back. But despite the jokes that fired between the three of you there was a genuine sincerity there when you wished him luck this evening, and you had a little giggle with him after he handed the microphone back to your crew. 

Some guests tonight weren’t doing press, which was a little upsetting, but you both took it on the chin when you were denied interviews. However, a moment tonight that melted both yours and Amelia’s heart was when Ed Sheeran caught your line of sight and you waved at him. Despite his team telling you that he was strictly not doing press, he came over anyway, not for a recorded interview but for a friendly chat where he hugged you upon greeting you and chatted with you for at least five minutes. 

It was really nice, it made the both of you feel like you belong here a little more, and that you’re not fish out of water. You deserve to be here just as much as the journalists on the other carpet. 

Afterwards, comes people like Stormzy, Shania Twain, Jessie J, David Guetta, and you just interviewed Wet Leg when you spot a few familiar faces, but because you’d class one of them as your friend now you shout her name as she walks past. “Flo!” You shout across to her.

You smile when you see her head whip to the side in search of who shouted her name, and a second later when you move from yours and Amelia's little spot over to the edge of your area and wave does she spot you. And when she does she gasps and waves, which melts your heart entirely. The artist makes her way over to you, looking just as stunning as she always does. As soon as she’s close enough, she has a bright grin on her face as she says an excited, “Hey!” 

“Oh my,” She gasps as she stops in front of you and Amelia joins you at your side, “You two look gorgeous!”

You blush because a compliment from her means the world to you, but seeing her dress you can’t help but coo, “No, oh my god! You look amazing!” And she really does. Tonight, Flo is wearing a gorgeous lavender dress that flows gorgeously down to the ground and pools at her feet.

It’s a beautifully made dress, such a stunning shade of lavender that compliments her skin tone well, made from either chiffon or organza with ruching on the bust and thick ruched straps that hold the dress on her shoulders. The detailing just below her breasts makes the rest of the fabric drape down her body in the way you’d expect a disney princess’ too, and you also note that it cleverly hides her growing baby bump.

As she smiles, thanking you for your compliment, before you asks quietly, “How’s baby Turner doing?”

“They’re doing fineee…” Flo grins, running a hand over her stomach so the flowy material will reveal her bump outline to you and you can’t help but pull her in for a hug when you see how big she's getting.

“Don’t suppose,” You start once you let her go, grinning as you cheekily push your luck, “We can pull you for an interview…?”

“No,” She laughs, shaking her head slightly, “You don’t want me, but I’ll make the Monkeys come on for you.”

“They’re actually coming?” Your eyes go a little wide, Amelia’s too because you both knew they were invited but you never for a second thought they would actually show themselves, “I thought you were coming to sit with The 1975 boys.”

“No, believe me,” She laughs, shaking her head, “I wouldn’t have come to another of these if I wasn’t married to someone up for an award. Not after the last time.”

You’re smirking, about to respond with something witty about that night you remember so fondly watching at home on TV back in 2017. However, your friend's name rings out across the room. 

“Flo!” You all hear a male voice shout from not too far away.

Turning the three of you see none other than Harry Styles walking his way over. And you’re half sure your heart falls into your stomach, Amelia’s probably too, but thankfully his eyes are mostly focused on Flo.  

“Hey Florence,” You and Amelia watch as Harry reaches for the artist, “How are you?”

“Harry, hey!” Flo grins up at him, with a hint of something in her eyes that you can’t quite pinpoint. But you’re too focused on the conversation to dwell on that at the moment. The artist grins and hugs him, “I’m good, thank you. How are you?” 

“Great, thank you.” Harry grins, the black suit doing the man such justice, he almost looks like a god despite the huge flower adorning his chest. He pulls her into a massive hug as if they’re been friends for years, “It’s so good to see you.”  

Am I missing something? You can’t help but ask yourself. You’re more than certain though that Matty has never mentioned Flo being aquaintances or better yet friends with Harry fucking Styles. You’ll be having words with him for that later.  

“God, how long has it been?” Harry thinks out loud, still looking as charming as ever, his eyes never leaving hers. It really makes you feel like you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be. He wonders, “Five years?”

“Six, wasn’t it?” Flo corrects him, still asking despite her clearly knowing, “2016?”

“Right.” You spot the singer almost smirking down at the artist, “The last I saw you was Jamaica, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Jamaica.” She nods confirming and you’re almost sure you see a little embarrassed blush creep onto her cheeks. Flo continues, “Lots has happened since then. Congratulations on your albums, they’ve been amazing. I’m excited for the new one.”

As are you and Amelia. Never in your life have you screamed as hard as when you got your tickets to Love On Tour for one of the nights at Wembley. Except when you got your At Their Very Best tickets… of course. 

“Thank you, but I believe you deserve the congratulations, you’re married to Alex now, right?” The singer asks and the artist happily nods, her love for her husband shining through her eyes as she confirms Harry's thoughts. When she does, his smile is huge, “That’s amazing! I'm so happy for you both.”

“Thank you, got a little more to celebrate now too.” Flo holds her hand subtly against her stomach to tell him without actually having to explain aloud. “If you know what I mean.”

And of course he does. The genuine joy for her that seeps onto his face makes you want to melt when he pulls her into another hug. You and your best friend hear him say, “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you both.”

“Thank you Harry.” Flo grins, as she pulls away from the hug, but she then turns to you and your best friend, introducing you with ease, “Have you met Y/N and Amelia before? They’re trying to get me to a chicken shop but I think you’d be more who they’re trying to recruit.”

“Hey,” You chuckle, raising your eyebrows at her, “You promised me that date!”

“You’ll get it, my love. I’m going to send Alex and the lads over to you and I’ll see you in there.” She promises, quickly hugging the both of you before she embraces the popstar once again, “It was lovely to see you again Harry.”

“The pleasure’s been all mine, Flo.” He kisses her cheek, lucky bitch. “See you soon.” He waves her off as she wanders back over to where you now see the Monkeys' other wives are standing waiting for her before they head inside. 

But who really cares about them when you have Harry fucking Styles standing in front of you, looking you dead in the eye. You’re sure you could pass out at a moment's notice. You’d already been told that he wasn’t doing press, that pretty much no one would get any interaction from him as he would be surrounded by security when he wasn’t on the carpet for pictures. And he was, until he spotted Flo as a familiar face, and now he’s here talking to you and your best friend. And your inner 16 year old self might just pass out. 

“Nice to meet the both of you.” Harry smiles at Amelia and then yourself before he leans forward to kiss each of your cheeks. Immediately, the subtle hints of vanilla, ginger, and woody scent fills your senses, Christ he smells so nice. You’re also never washing your cheek again. And you’re sure your eyes go wide when he says, “I'm a huge fan of the show.”

“You’ve seen the show?” Amelia beats you to ask. And it’s funny, you glance at her and her eyes are just as wide as yours were. Pull yourself together Y/N/N. You weren’t this bad meeting the man you're in love with.

“Of course. I love what you do so much.” Harry makes both of your days when he says, “I think you’re both the best people doing interviews right now.” 

Amelia’s a little lost for words so she’s happy when you manage to get out, “Thank you so much.”

“It’s so impressive and you’re both so funny.” His smile is just as charming as he is, “I love watching your dates.”

Harry Styles loves watching your dates AHHHHHHHHHH!

“Funny you should say that,” Amelia gets her barings back and charismatically chips back in, “Because we love your music and think you should come on a Chicken Shop Date with us.”

Harry smiles at that, expecting nothing less from you gorgeous, talented women, “When the time is right, I’m all yours.”

You smile, appreciating that a lot, but you promise him, “We’ll hold you to that.”

This time he grins at you, “I don’t doubt you will.”

“We’re seeing you at Wembley in June.” Amelia tells him, letting her excitement shine through a little, which you don’t entirely blame her for. His music means a lot to the both of you. 

“Oh,” He smiles brightly, “It’ll be lovely to have you there.” 

You tell him truthfully, “We’re really excited.” But you won’t forgive yourself if you don’t casually plead, “Please play Only Angel again.” needing to hear that song live.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Harry grins before he gets ushered on by his security. 

Instead of following their orders blindly though, he turns back to the both of you with an apologetic look before grasping both yours and your best friend's hand and giving it a tight squeeze as he sincerely says, “Thank you both so much. Sorry I can’t chat for longer, but I’ll see you in there.”

And he takes your breath away when he kisses the top of both of your hands like prince charming, “It was lovely to meet you both.”

You and your best friend just about get your good lucks and goodbyes out as Harry starts being lead through into the main arena, and as soon as he’s out of sight you turn to each other, wide eyed and say, “What the fuck just happened?!” and, “Oh my fucking god!!” at the same time. 

Even when you turn back to your crew, they’re shocked by the encounter too, all not quite believing their eyes. It takes you all a good 5 minutes to recover before you get back into the swing of things. 

A few more celebs make their way over to you, but nothing sparked joy like catching the eyes of Alex Turner, who despite being on a red carpet, smiled at you and looked like he was (dare you say) excited for an interview. 

“Hello, hello, hello.” You greet the band as they walk up to you, all of them slowly walking into your little corner. Matt and Alex are the ones who have a microphone in hand while Nick and Jamie have their arms behind their backs but kind smiles on their faces.

Amelia beams at them all and greets the drummer, who she’d interviewed when you both were at Reading Fest, “Matt, lovely to see you again.”

“And you Amelia, Y/N.” Matt acknowledges the both of you with a smile and a nod of his head.

“How’ve you been boys?” You ask first to get them all talking, making them feel comfortable with you and Amelia before actually heavily putting on your characters for the interview.

It’s no surprise that you end up bringing up their new album The Car and you’re lucky you and Amelia are good at improvising because you hadn’t planned for these men to be here at all. Thankfully it paid off quite well and you both start rounding off their interview after a few minutes of you both making them laugh.

“Careful when you go inside, Charli XCX is in there.” Amelia begins and after a brief second adds, “She’s got a thing for cars.”

There’s a dazed look from the Monkeys so you deliver another punchline, “Yeah, if she gets her hands on your car she’ll crash it.”

Alex snorts at that, clearly understanding the reference to her album, no doubt thanks to Flo’s influence. The others laugh along, you hope understanding but you remember you have one more trick up your sleeve that will make the band, and you’re sure anyone who knows the history, giggle too. 

“Oh Al,” You turn to grab one of the t-shirts from the display behind you and hand it over to Alex with a subtle smirk, “Think this top is right up your street.”

He takes it and unrolls it, a chuckle making him shake when he reads, ‘I Hate Matty Healy’ printed on the front and he holds it up over his chest, looks at you two, hand on his hip as if modelling it. 

Amelia nods, “Suits you actually.” as you try to keep a straight face.

“Very fitting.” The singer nods as he mumbles into the microphone, before perking up when seeing there’s more of them displayed behind you. “Can I take one for Flo too? I think she’ll like it.” 

“Course.” You smile brightly, turning back around to get another. 

But when you hand Alex the top, Matt brings the mic up to his lips to ask, “You got any more?” 

Amelia raises her brows and asks rather amused, “You all want one?” and when the rest of the band nods, you can’t help but chuckle to yourself.

“Makes sense because they’re up for the same award as you.” You quip back, giving them a perfect idea for when to wear them, “If they win we will put the tops on for you. Rep the brand.”

Alex hums into the mic softly and nods before mumbling, “Shall hold you up to that.” 

You take that as a sign to end your segment with the band there and you bid them farewell with smiles and keeping up your awkward facades, asking them for a date when they leave your sight and making it an underwhelming moment for the sake of the interview. Amelia giggles as she lets her mic fall away from her lips and you giggle with her, a rush of joy running through your veins as you know the carpet is drawing to a close and the awards ceremony is nearing meaning that you’re so close to have accomplished yet another insane goal in your careers once this is over. You quickly reset your set with new ‘I Hate Matty Healy’ tops knowing it can’t be long now until your boys are due over.

You get a few more guests before the band you’ve dedicated so many years of your life to and who hold your heart (now even more so) in their hands appears in your peripherals, and you try not to look startled as you watch the four men walking your way. 

“Oh god…” You hold your breath knowing this is where things are going to get tricky for you. 

Amelia smirks, “This is gonna be good.” knowing that your boyfriend will have nothing good in mind once he gets to see you.

And he already has.

“Fucking hell.” Matty curses under his breath when you come into his view.

During your FaceTime earlier as you were both getting ready in your respective hotel rooms, you didn’t show him your dress, he only saw you getting your makeup done and he told you that you looked beautiful but then you told him he could wait to see your dress. And fucking hell, he wishes that someone would have forewarned him, his dick is already twitching just looking at you. 

You’re wearing a black dress that starts as a tight corset which dramatically emphasises your boobs. But the long skirt that runs down and reaches your heels only covers one of your legs, leaving the other on show, letting everyone see the stockings and suspenders you’re wearing.

Matty’s chest flares with want and need as he can’t take his eyes from you as your team hand him and George the microphones before all of them make their way in shot. And their order ends up being Ross, George, Adam, and then Matty, which you’re thankful for because your boyfriend is furthest away from you with his wandering eyes. 

As the other boys take in your set, Amelia can’t get the grin off her face as she notices Matty can’t take his eyes off you. She grabs the rest of their attention as she knowingly smiles, “Well, hello.” 

“Fancy seeing you here.” You chip in, looking at the stunning men in front of you.

Ross, Adam, and Matty all wear black suits with white shirts, bowties adorning their necks, while George with his freshly bleached hair looks amazing with his black silk shirt open, showing more of his chest and a stunning chain around his neck. Even yellow tinted glasses make him look like the star of the band, something that you’ll make sure you tell him in front of your boyfriend later.

In fact, what's stopping you right now? 

“If I didn’t know better,” You grin, “I’d think you’re the frontman, George. You’re looking very dapper.”

“Really?” The drummer smirks as he asks, catching the look on Matty’s face when he quickly glances around to the rest of them.

“Thinking I should’ve asked you on a date back then.” You clearly flirt but your awkward persona comes into play like the guys had been expecting since they walked over to you and Amelia.

Matty scoffs, “You’re all chat, you said the same thing about Ross.”

With a roll of your eyes, you continue playing into your joke, “Well, maybe I want them both.”

“No double date?” Amelia asks, trying to hide her smirk behind a puzzled look like the possibility of her joining you on a date with Ross and George was more important than wanting to laugh over the clear taunting aimed at your boyfriend.

When Amelia sees you shrugging, she scoffs and turns to the camera to call you out in the meekest tone, “She’s so selfish.”

“Three nominations boys, how are you feeling?” You ask, completely changing the topic of conversation in hopes that if you continue flirting here and there as the interview continues, you’d get some good reactions for the video from your boyfriend. You already can’t wait to edit all of this together.

“Very grateful.” Adam says humbly after George puts the mic close to his mouth as he sees him nod and mumble beside him.

Amelia is the one to turn to them and let them know of the plan you’d played about with the band that had just been in their places a few minutes before, “Just gotta warn you that if you win, we’ve started a new movement with Arctic Monkeys.”

“With the Monkeys?” Ross asks with a half grin on his face, like he’s suspicious of what you’ve been plotting with the band.

Almost immediately after, Matty asks, “And what would that be?”

But he gets no sign of an answer when you shrug nonchalantly, keeping your face blank and making them even more curious with a tantalising, “If I tell, the surprise would be ruined, no?” 

Matty goes to ask but you tut, “You’ll just have to win and see what happens.”

“Are you feeling lucky? I brought my lucky egg, you can rub it so you can find out.” Amelia says, always comically eager to have people rubbing on the lucky egg she brings to red carpets. She turns to grab it from the shelf just behind the bassist, and you really have to stop yourself from giggling at the way she proudly holds the egg up. It’s genuinely like watching someone care for a baby the way your best friend coos over this egg.

“How many people have rubbed this egg?” Ross asks, an eyebrow raised and his dimples showing faintly beneath his beard due to the smirk that breaks on his face. God, you wish Ross would look at you the way he’s looking at Amelia right now.

And you wish you could be as cool about it as she is, keeping her smirk soft and her shrug indifferent as she replies factually, “Most of Hollywood’s walk of fame.”

“So we’re the best?” Matty asks rhetorically, grinning, “I see.”

“If you do say so yourself.” You say with the hint of a smile on your lips, looking your boyfriend in the eye properly for the first time tonight. 

He looks so fucking good, and the lust in his eyes is so easy for you to spot. It makes you want to clench your thighs together, so you look away from him, back to Adam to maintain your on screen persona. You can do this Y/N. You can do this.

As difficult as it is ignoring the man you love, you push on for the sake of the bit. Amelia puts her egg down as you take the lead on your next question.

“You've been coming to the Brits since 2016 and you’ve won at least one award every year you’ve been.” You state the fact, giving way to the beginning of a bit that you hope gives you the reactions you were anticipating when you wrote it down with your best friend.

“Yes.” George and Adam confirm proudly.

Ross teases with a playful, “You’ve done your homework.”

To that Matty smirks, finding the perfect opportunity to pick on you, “With how obsessed she is with us, I doubt she even had to google that.”

You have to bite your tongue to backchat, sticking to finishing your joke as originally planned, putting on a pout as you fake pity for them when you say, “Be a bit embarrassing if you don't win something tonight, wouldn't it?”

A loud scoff comes from your boyfriend, whilst Adam and Ross giggle and George clicks his tongue softly before scolding you, “We won’t win with that attitude.”

“Ah, true forgot you were up against Harry Styles, sorry.” You wince sarcastically and deem it, “No chance there now.” before you give them whiplash again by randomly asking, “So who was your favourite member of One Direction?” 

They chuckle at the sudden ridiculous question, and you have to press your lips together not to cackle at the sound of George’s laughter mixing with the giggles coming from the rest of the boys. Amelia is the one who continues on the topic by warning them, “You better say Harry or I’ll tell on you when we go inside.”

Comically, they play on the joke and all of them start nodding feigning honesty when they start saying, “Oh yes, definitely Harry.” at different times, repeating their words as they look into the camera so it sounds and looks chaotic. 

“That’s right.” Amelia hums in approval, looking at the camera for a split second before turning back to the band with a new question, “Do you guys have any award show rituals? That you do to bring you luck?”

“Other than rubbing your egg?” Ross asks with an incredulous look on his face, it’s almost as if he’s holding back from laughing.

You sigh like the lack of answers is annoying you and roll your eyes to say, “Yes, other than rubbing Amelia's egg.”

To your dismay they shake their heads and all you do is give the camera a look of exasperation, Amelia is the one who makes you look back at them for she looks straight into Ross’ eyes and firmly replies, “Then I think you really should rub my egg.” She grabs it again and without hesitation offers it up to Ross with hopeful eyes. Something which you all end up laughing at.

Matty sees the way Amelia is looking at Ross and he makes a mental note to keep an eye out about it inside the venue. He knows you’re flirting with the bassist for the bit, and though he’s not the biggest fan of that, it’s keeping him the slightest bit amused; but Amelia is fully gawking at him and it almost seems like she keeps scooting closer to him as you all laugh. 

So instead of keeping the teasing for later, Matty starts taunting your best friend right then, “Sounding a little desperate there, Amelia.”

Your best friend surprises him when she goes from eye fucking Ross to glaring at him in a split second, spouting a stern, “Not more than you look.” towards him because she’s seen just how badly your boyfriend can’t keep his eyes away from your figure and how everything he wants to do to you is written all over his face.

Matty’s jaw drops at her words as the other three boys loudly snort at her publicly outing him, but before they can start bickering, you tut and call them out, “Okay pipe down, no cat fights on the red carpet please.” 

George and Ross can’t help their chuckles, Adam’s head hangs as he shakes his head trying to hide the amused grin on his face but his shoulders shake in silent laughter. Matty’s eyes flick from the fake little stare down with Amelia to you where he loses his breath all over again and he can’t help but look you up and down again. You’re so fucking hot.

Before you can break character, you bring up another question you had prepared, “Any collabs you’re looking to secure tonight?”

A chorus of thinking hum sounds come from your left and as Amelia abandons her lucky egg again, George is the first to break the silence as he honestly replies, “Not that we’ve thought of…”

Ross turns to you and Amelia to genuinely try to answer your question by asking first, “Who’s here tonight?”

But before anyone can give a genuine answer, your boyfriend is back to taunting Amelia by saying, “Maybe Aitch, you know. Just to get the group back together.”

You have to give your best friend props for she easily avoids Matty’s comment and acts entirely unaffected. She puts on a pout and there’s fake pity in her voice when she counters with, “Oh no, I’ve literally just given him his stuff back, that’d be awkward.” 

Turning to look at your best friend, you give her a look that you hope she reads because this could be fucking hilarious. You tap your chin with your finger and hum loudly for a few seconds, an exaggeration of thinking of something, before you start talking again, “You need someone that fits your vibes, you know. Someone that compliments you perfectly.”

“Oh, I know,” Amelia grins, offering, “Yungblud.”

It takes everything in you not to burst out laughing when you see your boyfriend’s face drop into an unimpressed look before he rubs his temple like he’s getting a headache from the mere mention of the name and curses under his breath, “Fucks sakes.”

Your blood rushes with excitement when you know exactly what to add to make this even funnier, “If my opinion counts for anything… I reckon it’d be the morally obvious thing to do.”

Knowing exactly what you’re referring to, George and Ross burst out laughing and they turn to see a smirking Matty that’s holding back his own laughter at what he admits was a good joke. You and Amelia, just like Adam, are trying not to laugh but the amused smirks on your faces give you away. It’s so hard not to laugh when George keeps giggling. 

Amelia manages to compose herself before you, but she completely makes your breath hitch when she turns to your boyfriend and asks, “Planning on kissing any fans at the after party?”

“Just the one.” Matty cheekily replies, a smirk on his face when his gaze falls on you with a hungry look on his face that threatens you to lose your composure. He shrugs nonchalantly as he adds, “Might take her to a chicken shop on the way home…”

You purse your lips as you hum, taking in what he’s saying but acting a fool, pretending not to get the hint and stating, “Lucky one.” with your brows raised in challenge. But Matty notes the hint of jealousy in your voice.

Of course, he wasn’t gonna give it to you easily, not when you’ve been teasing him and flirting with his best mates when you look like that tonight. “Wish I was taking you?” He asks, a challenging look of his own on his face. It only encourages you to play dirtier. 

“Wish Ross was taking me.” You quip back, biting your bottom lip when you see him clenching his jaw at the ease of your answer.

And thank god for Ross knowing exactly what you’re trying to do because he adds more fuel to the fire, asking with a raised eyebrow and a sultry tone, “In more ways than one?”

Even knowing that it’s just a joke, the bassist’s voice manages to get you flustered and Matty seethes seeing the effect Ross has on you even though it’s not that noticeable as you confidently reply, “Many more.”

For the sake of the bit (definitely not driven by the need to stop this and have Ross’ attention back on her), your best friend adds her two cents into the conversation, “But you gotta go on a chicken shop date first.”

“Is that a requirement?” Ross questions her with a brow raised.

“Yes.” Amelia says at the same time as you say, “No.”

Ross presses his lips together when the two of you frown at each other, trying not to laugh as he asks again, “So yes or no?”

“Yes.” Amelia says again and you gasp at her response, almost whining when you go against her words again, “No, she’s trying to sabotage me.”

“She’s dramatic.” Amelia sighs and rolls her eyes at the camera, another gasp coming from you when Matty mumbles a, “Yes.” into the mic.

Narrowing your eyes at your boyfriend for a few seconds, you turn to Amelia and say, “You wanna know drama? There’s drama?” You point an accusing finger Matty’s way and he of course feigns innocence. 

“Me?” He asks in a gasp, “Not me.” But Adam, George and Ross easily agree with you, nodding and concurring that your boyfriend is indeed a drama queen. 

“Without me your lives would be so boring.” The curly headed singer at the edge of the group says, an offended frown on his face that makes you want to laugh.

Ross rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Sure, what would we do without you?” Matty’s mouth falls open at his sarcastic words and Ross puffs his chest out like he’s not taking back what he’s just said. It’s so funny seeing them bicker like children. 

But before you entirely lose grasp on the dynamics of the interviews you usually conduct with Amelia here, you’re the one to ask yet another question. One that was completely improvised but that you hope you can steer into a funny bit. 

“Ross, will you be letting your hair down tonight?” You ask, silently hoping and praying the answer is yes. 

“Depends if we win,” Ross smiles and shrugs, “Could be on the cards.”

“You should, it looks very lucious.” Amelia proudly flirts, “Best hair in the band award would definitely go to you.”

You don’t miss the way the bassists cheeks turn to a hint of pink, and you’re half jealous that Amelia's gotten that reaction out of him. You can’t help but watch them like a TV show as you hear Matty scoff under his breath, “I don't think.” and God you hope the microphone picked it up.

“Speaking of,” To add fuel to the fire, you continue to ask the rest of the band with a smirk on your lips, “Quickfire questions for you… Matty’s worst hairstyle, go!”

The way Matty’s face falls is comical. He looks so offended you’ve even asked that, he’s never even heard you talk about his hair in a negative way except for your clear distaste for when he gels it back, hence why he’d left his curls alone tonight, all he’s done is style them a bit. 

“Easy.” George comes in straight off the bat, “When he looked like a mushroom.”

It takes everything in you not to burst out laughing at the comment and the way you see your boyfriend's head snap towards his best friend. The look of betrayal just gets more intense as your bit continues. 

“Ha, yes mushroom and microphone head over here.” Amelia agrees with George in a split second and you nod too, a wicked smirk on your face when you catch the look on your boyfriend’s face as you wish for this to continue.

“No come on, it was when he looked like a pot noodle for a few months. That was dire.” Ross groans at the memory of his blond long curls, shaking his head in disapproval as he makes eye contact with a very offended Matty.

Matty frowns looking at you and Amelia like you’ve just killed his dog as he complains, “This just turned into a slag Matty off fest or…?”

Holding back your smile, you’re thankful that it doesn’t deter the rest of the band from carrying on bullying their friend. In fact, Adam, the absolute legend, goes straight for Matty’s throat. 

“If we’re being real, that mohawk made him look like a brush,” The guitarist tells you, pulling no punches when he adds, “Was ready to sweep the floor with his head.”

The laugh that bubbles through you then is something you can’t hold back, and everyone but Matty joins in with loud cackles that make the scene feel so familiar, you almost forget that you’re at the Brits red carpet and not on the tour bus on the way to some city in the UK.

“Careful he’ll lock you back up in his basement Adam.” Amelia jokes and it makes the guitarist snort at the mention of a joke he’s seen around twitter so often.

Everyone’s attention is back on you when you tut loudly as you shake your head, “These are all very good answers but I'm afraid you’re all wrong. The right answer is clearly that rat tail back in 2020.” You fake a shiver that definitely would’ve ran down your spine if you were to see a picture of that hairstyle again.

Groans break out around the group, everyone nodding and siding with you but what you’re not expecting is for your boyfriend to narrow his eyes at you and threaten, “Carry on and it’ll come back.”

You don’t leave room for that to even become a possibility as you sternly state, “No it won't.”

Matty challenges you with a smirk on his face,“Wanna bet?” 

One that you match when you challenge him back, folding your arms, “Wanna lose a girlfriend?”

“You wouldn’t.” He says breathily, shocked at the way you just threw that out there.

Eyes narrowing again, you nonchalantly shrug and let him know he’s on, “Thin ice tonight.” and he feels the blood rushing through his veins heating up at the way you’re looking him up and down as if sizing him up.

“Why?” He frowns, questioning your words.

You shrug and your tone makes it sound like it’s obvious, “Your hair is styled.”

He scoffs entirely amused and his cheeks heat as he’s fully aware of everyone’s gazes going from him to you like a tennis match, “You expect me to win an award with my hair looking like I’ve just rolled out of bed?”

This is the only time you struggle to find your words, and your answer is so weak that it makes everyone hold back their laughter, “The fans would appreciate it more.”

It’s so transparent, Matty is the one to tease you for everyone with the most sarcastic tone he could muster, “Yeahhhh, the fans.” 

He knows damn well all that’s going through your head is how badly you want to pull on his hair, and he wants that too; for you to pull on his hair as he disappears beneath your skirt and you make a mess of his pretty face as you cum on it.

“Domesticsss.” Amelia sing-songs in the middle of it all, looking into the camera with an expression that will definitely make you burst out laughing when you’re editing this video.

As a joke of wanting to protect her from the bickering between you and your boyfriend, Ross hooks his arm with Amelia’s and pulls her away as they start shuffling towards the side of your interview area so they can escape, “Dimz, come with us.”

Your staring battle with Matty is cut short when you see them walking her past you, you wrap your fingers around her wrist and pull her back towards you, “She’s staying with me.”

Amelia giggles in the middle of the predicament she’s in, but of course Ross lets her go with an exaggerated sigh for the camera and mumbles something into the mic that you don’t catch before he lets Amelia free from his grasp and she happily scoots back closer to you. 

“Okay, that’s it I guess.” Amelia says with an awkward smile on her face, “Off you go.” 

She shoos them away and you wave at them with the same blank expression which makes them all laugh as they start walking in front of you towards your crew.And there’s a bit of relief that floods you when you know their interview is over. 

As you say a very flat, “Byeeeeee…” all you can think of is how glad you are that you didn’t break character and that it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be to ignore your boyfriend as much as you tried to.

It’s a relief it ended up being quite funny too and you’re so happy you got all that on camera despite definitely knowing that not everything was going to be in the final cut of the video. You can’t wait to edit all this tomorrow, it’s going to be so much fun. 

“What's all that then?” Ross asks as they’re walking away, finally getting to see the display of tops which slander his best mate that has been hiding behind you the whole time.

You turn slightly and showcase it by extending your hand beside it, “Our display, do you like it?”

Ross laughs and nods his head as he starts being ushered away, “Brilliant,” Is what you hear him say before he walks further behind the cameras. George hands someone beside your camera man his microphone and follows the bassist, not before giggling about the display and Adam does the same before following George’s path.

But of course, once he sees it, Matty can’t leave it looking like that. 

“Here, thank you.” He hurriedly says as he hands the mic back, before turning to you and Amelia and come back in shot to correct your set. He doesn’t hesitate to go behind you to your display while stating confidently, “I’ll fix this for you.”

With a speed that makes you want to laugh, he plucks the top that’s folded to show the ‘Hate’ so that it shows ‘Healy’ instead and places it under the one that says ‘Matty’, leaving your display to just say ‘I (blank) Matty Healy’. 

You and Amelia watch expectantly as he reaches for another place on the shelves, grabbing something you don’t really notice before going back behind you and it’s when he places it in the empty spot that you realise what he’s done. 

Matty has put a pair of heart shaped sunglasses in between the ‘I’ and ‘Matty’, leaving your display to say ‘I heart Matty Healy’ in an improvised attempt.

He gives himself a second to look at his creation proudly, turning to the camera and giving it a thumbs up before dashing away from the place you and Amelia take on the red carpet. 

“Of course.” You scoff into the microphone, both you and your best friend shaking your head as if disapproving the whole thing.  

Amelia makes her joke audible by saying, “He can keep lying to himself.” right after. 

But you can’t go along with the joke at your boyfriend’s expense because he comes back in a hurry.

“Now what?” You quickly ask, sighing like you’re exasperated by his return.

But you’re not expecting what he’s about to do when he snatches the microphone from your hands and breathily says, “Forgot this.” into it before handing it blindly to Amelia. 

In a split second he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and cupping your face with his other hand, catching your lips in a hungry kiss and he dips forward so your arms fly around his neck, he swallows the small shriek that falls from your lips.

Everything escapes you when his lips are on yours. Suddenly, the only thing that you know is that your boyfriend has you clutched tight against him and his mouth is moving eagerly with yours, his tongue teasing your bottom lip and you part your mouth to welcome him without even thinking that this is all happening in front of the cameras which are still rolling.

You don’t even hear the surprised, “Oh!” that Amelia lets out as your kiss grows hotter in a matter of seconds, but before it can all come back to you, Matty lifts and twists you to stand back up straight and pulls back. The smack of your mouths separating pierces the silence that has fallen around you, and he drops one last peck on your lips before he runs away once again, leaving you no time to even question what’s happened. 

Amelia pushes the mic into your hands, seeing that you’re too busy being dumbstruck after that steamy kiss to continue your job for the night. The feel of the mic between your fingers brings you back halfway, your gaze moving slowly from your smirking best friend to the camera where your cameraman behind it can’t help but laugh when you’re just blinking at the lenses like a fool for a good minute.

“Ermm… I think we can say tonight has left us speechless.” Amelia quips to the camera before elbowing you to snap out of your trance. 

Jesus Christ, your boyfriend is gonna be the death of you.

~*~*~*~

“Hey baby.” Matty greets you with a smirk, he can’t help but gawk at you all over again and his teeth sink on his bottom lip when he sees those stockings and garters you have under your stunning dress. He can’t wait to go home, after party be damned. 

“How’d it go?” He asks wholeheartedly when you take a seat beside him, his hand instantly coming over your exposed thigh to rub circles on your skin.

You scoff when he acts as if he hadn’t ruined your facade when he pulled that little stunt on you earlier, “Went great other than you embarrassing me.” 

“You loved it.” Your boyfriend rolls his eyes and refutes you with ease, smirking as he states, “The romantic in you wanted to be swept off your feet tonight.” He leans in closer to you and starts kissing from your cheek down your jaw until he reaches your neck and there he nuzzles his face into it, his curls tickling you and making you inevitably erupt in giggles. 

Proud of his effect on you, he leans back slightly and steals a kiss that you just can’t deny because you’ve been thinking of that mouth since he shocked you with that kiss as he was leaving the red carpet.

He’s got you dizzy even before you take a sip of alcohol, and your skin lights up in flames from his fingers tightly clutching your neck. You can’t help but be the one to deepen the kiss, to let him know you feel just the same need as him and even considering skipping the after party entirely just to have him the way you want all night and at the earliest convenience.

But when you pull back and he catches your bottom lip between his teeth, you know that he’s got no issues trying to have you even earlier. Right now. His hand slowly falls from your neck, down your shoulder and arm until he can intertwine your fingers together.

You clench your thighs taking in the lust that has blown his pupils, the way his tongue licks at his lips like he’s indulging in the taste of your mouth even after your lips have separated. He’s eating you up with his eyes and you know him so well, you can almost hear him saying all that he wants to do with you, especially in this dress.  

“Don’t even think about it Healy, I gotta give this dress back when the event is over.” You rest your finger over his lips and warn him with a smirk that you can’t hold back. 

“But-” He fights immediately, his hand squeezing yours like it can help convince you otherwise.

You tut, “No. This is archive Vivienne Westwood and so is Amelia’s. Imagine how much I’d have to pay if I even spill a drink on it.” You tell him as you move your hand away from his lips.

“I don’t care, I can pay.” Matty says easily, rolling his eyes and smirking like he finds your concern over its cost funny or even endearing.

“Sure you can.” You sarcastically reply, a chuckle falling from your lips.

Your amusement dies when he leans back in and his lips brush yours when he starts saying, “There’s no amount of money I wouldn’t be willing to spend on you, baby.” He only leans back a few inches to look you up and down, his eyes almost rolling back in pleasure and a groan rumbling through his chest when he has an eyeful of your cleavage. “Especially not if it means I get to taste you under the skirt of this pretty dress when you look like this.”

Before your boyfriend has a chance to laugh at the way you choke on your breath when he says that, his attention is taken by a familiar face. And you must admit, you're thankful for the distraction, because you think you’d be willing to let him take you somewhere in this huge venue and have his way with you after that comment. 

Alex Turner says hello to the table and eventually stops beside Matty where they hug again and just like you, Matty was surprised to see him here. He asks about where they’re seated and of course about Flo, and when he points out the table, not too far from your own at all, your previous interaction with the artist comes back to the forefront of your mind.

Matty waves over at Flo when Alex points out their table which is diagonal and just a table further in front of yours. You smile brightly back over to her, but then you remember who she introduced you to and you immediately go serious again when you turn to your curly haired brunette.

“You didn’t tell me that Flo knew Harry Styles.” You halfheartedly punch your boyfriend's arm.

“She doesn’t really…” Matty trails off, rubbing his arm and looks at Alex for confirmation of that and he nods, which confuses you even more.

You have to ask, “She met him here with you, right?”

You remember those Brits very well. It’s hard to forget the ‘that rock n’ roll ey’ speech and the shock of seeing who you thought was Matty's girlfriend kiss Alex Turner on TV.

“Yeah, 2014 Brits and I think that’s it.” Alex nods, entirely sure of himself as he has never recalled his wife mentioning that she’d met the popstar after then. 

But you’re not having it. 

Just as George comes up and says hello to Alex too, you think back to the encounter that you witnessed not long ago and tell them what happened. That’s not something you’d blush because of one previous interaction. 

“No, she blushed when he spoke to her. They definitely know each other.” Your eyes are wide and your tone entirely confident when you tell them. Perplexed and confused is the only way you’re able to describe their faces. You continue to tell the three men, “They talked to each other like they actually knew each other. Said that they last saw each other in 2016. In Jamaica.”

At that you watch both lead singers' faces fall entirely, and for a split second you're left wondering what you said wrong as they both gormlessly look at you.

The drummer tunes into the conversation, his eyes wide and shocked, “Did you just say Jamaica?”

You nod, confirming what you heard of the earlier conversation and the three men all look between each other and a few scoffs manage to escape from their lips. What the fuck is going on? You can’t help but think. George, Matty, and Alex all look at each other with their mouths wide and Matty says a quiet, “Surely not.” before Alex’s gaze falls back on you to double check, “Are you sure she said Jamaica?”

“He said Jamaica and she agreed.” You promise them, entirely confident in your response. 

 Alex looks at Matty and almost scoffs,“I can’t fucking believe it.”

Your boyfriend is entirely just lost for words, while George is the one who laughs in disbelief, “I can’t believe we finally know who Jamaica was.” 

“Woah, what?” Your voice raises a little now, a look in your eye that Matty knows means you need to know what's happening. 

Your curly haired brunette finds his voice again, and he’s the one who tells you, “Way back when, Wheels told us all that she signed an NDA on her holiday to Jamaica because she had fun with a celebrity she couldn’t name. And she’s never once told us who it was and now you’ve spilled the beans.”

No. Fucking. Way.

“You mean that Flo and Harry Styles have…?” You trail off, keeping your voice low, not quite believing what you’re actually alluding to. 

Surely not. Surely there’s not a woman alive who can be that fucking lucky. But all three men nod, still looking dazed. Your jaw falls and all you can think is, that woman is living her best fucking life. 

“You’re kidding.” You say, hoping you’re misunderstanding because you’re about to lose your shit.

“We’re not.” Alex tells you and it’s only then that you fully believe and process what you’re hearing. You hand flies over your mouth, “Fuck off.”

And you don’t even hesitate to start walking over to her, and you do so like you’re on a mission. Which you guess you are, a recon mission most definitely. 

“Florence. Turner.” You say in what you can only describe as a teacher's voice, and you sit beside her in Alex’s seat as you scorn her as quietly as you can, “You lucky little bitch, I want to be you. You lucky cow!”

She looks appropriately confused considering you’ve given her no context for your outburst. She chuckles, “What’s all this?”

“Alex Turner. Matty Healy. Harry fucking Styles!” You hold up a finger for each of the men she’s had sex with.“Florence, how do you get these men?!”

“Shhhhh!” Her eyes go wide, and panic is clear to see in her eyes as she whisper shouts at you, “How do you know about that?!”

“I asked the guys how you knew Harry so well and they were confused saying you didn’t. But you were blushing so hard back there so I-”

“I didn’t blush.” She interrupts, entirely adamant that she didn’t but you know better. 

And you don’t blame her for blushing. If you’d fucked Harry Styles years ago and the first time you were seeing him since was at an awards show, married, and pregnant, you’d be blushing too.

“Hun,” You give her a look of disbelief, telling her honestly, “You went as red as a tomato when Jamaica was mentioned.”

“Oh god,” Her hands fly to her temples, eyes wide and then she looks at you dead in the eye. She glances over at the 1975 table where her husband also is, but she turns back to look at you before she even gets to see them. Flo has to ask, “They all know?”

You press your lips together, feeling bad you accidentally split her secret to some of her closest friends, her ex, and her husband/baby daddy. “I’m sorry,” You apologise, but she waves you off, not offended that you’ve let it slip, she’s just mortified that something else related to who she's slept with has come to light at yet another Brit Awards. 

Flo can’t help but think, At least I’ll have the baby as my excuse never to come to another.

Interrupting her thought process though, you can’t help but ask, “On a serious note, is Watermelon Sugar about you?”

“Y/N/N,” Her eyes soften and she sounds as if she's trying not to laugh when she grabs a hold of your hand and starts, “I love you but-”

“No buts!” You stop her, this is serious and there’s no way you’ll be able to function for the rest of the night without getting some clarity. “It’s about you, isn’t it?”

“I’m fairly certain I’m not the only person he’s gone down on in the last six years.” She explains slowly like she was trying to make a child understand how time works.

But you’re far too gone in shock and you can’t help but chat back, “The song came out in 2019. That's enough time to have a song written about you.” A few beats of silence pass since she doesn’t answer and you’re left trying to get a grasp of what you’ve just discovered, “Can’t believe Harry fucking Styles has gone down on you.” 

Flo blushes again, but instead of turning into a stuttering mess, she owns it and coyly smirks at you, “He did more than that.”

Your jaw falls again, “I’m so jealous!”

She can’t help but laugh at that, but she shakes her head and rests her hand on your thigh, “Love, you don’t have to be jealous, Matty's tongue is just as good.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Ah, no buts.” Flo interrupts, not letting you go down that route when she knows just how lucky you are. But she can understand the shock and the need to know, so she promises you, “I’ll tell you all about Jamaica when we’re not about to be on TV, okay?”

You hold out your little finger, wanting her to pinky swear, and it may be childish of you but you think your blossoming friendship can handle it. The gesture seems to light up the artist's eyes because she doesn’t hesitate to hook her pinky around yours, a silent promise confirmed between you. Your little moment ends up being interrupted by a husband with a knowing look in his eye. Alex shakes his head at his wife in fake disappointment, “I can’t believe you.” He looks down and takes his wife’s free hand, “All this time and it was that obvious.”

Clearly past the point of being embarrassed, Flo just shrugs and smirks at her husband, “Sorry Shakespeare.” 

“Is that the reason why you wanted to come back this year, Angel?” You watch as Alex teases her when she stands up and wraps her arms around his neck as his wrap around her waist. His smirk is huge as he presses on, “Being that your fling is up for four awards.”

“You’re up for two.” She reminds him, her fingers deftly brushing his hair from his face. 

“Two that we won't win.” Alex hums, and you can’t help but see just how enamoured he is by her. 

He looks at her as if she’s the only person in the room. As if her smile lights up the entire universe and they’re the only two that matter. She’s his entire world, and it’s so clear to see. 

“Love you all the same.” Flo grins, her fingers routing into her husband's hair. 

His whole face lights up as if it’s the first time he’s hearing her tell him. And he doesn’t hesitate for a second to tell her, “Love you more Angel.” And he leans in to kiss his stunning wife. 

They are somehow cuter than Adam and Carly, and George and Charli. They are the epitome of couple goals and it’s making you long for your boyfriend. 

So before they have a chance to fully immerse themselves into their kiss, you quickly stand and ruin their moment. 

“You’re both disgustingly cute,” You tell them and they don’t for a second look like they mind the halfhearted insult. All Flo does is hug her husband closer and melt into his arms when he kisses her temple as she looks to you. 

You bid the couple farewell when you say, “I’ll see you at the afterparty,” but you look at the artist as you remind her of her promise, “Where we will be having a conversation.”

You turn to start heading back until you hear Flo tease you, “If Matty doesn’t take you straight home to get you out of that dress.”

“He’s already been told no.” You chuckle but you’re getting flustered all over again when remembering his words from just before this whole Jamaica thing had been brought to light.

Flo notices the way you take a deep breath and how it hitches in your throat, and she can’t help but find it funny. She can see it wouldn’t take much to persuade you, so she teases you further, “It’s never stopped him beforeeee.”

Knowing she’s talking from past experience has you losing your mind. Clearly, you’re going to be in for a night to remember when you get back home. But before you give her the chance to catch you flushing over your boyfriend and his horniness, you note that Alex is frowning at his wife after that comment which you can’t help but find funny considering the long history. 

You point at her and playfully sing-song, “I think you’re on thin ice.” as you nod to her husband. You hear her laughing as you turn back and retreat back to your table, where your boyfriend is waiting for you eagerly with a huge grin and his arm over the back of your chair. 

The night grows more and more entertaining as time goes on. The performances are amazing and the speeches make you giggle, as well as the interviews around the place that are fucking hilarious thanks to the Brits feeding alcohol to celebrities all night without being frugal with it. The absolute chaos the Brits bring is just so refreshing compared to American awards. 

All of which Charli has been capturing on her digital camera, the one you have been handed multiple times tonight to capture pictures of everyone around the table. Charli has taken so many of you and Matty, you and Amelia and many selfies that have had the boys creasing all night. You cannot wait to post them on your Instagram when Charli sends them to you next week. 

It was sad seeing both the 1975 and the Monkeys not taking the trophies home but you definitely gasped and yelled when Wet Leg won and they recited Alex’s infamous rock and roll speech from 2014. You started cackling more at it when you saw Flo cry laughing at it and cheering them on all while taking the piss out of her husband even more.

By the time Selin Hizli and Daisy May Cooper made it up on the stage and presented the nominees for Best Rock / Alternative Act, you’re messing about with everyone on the table. You, of course, cheer loudly when the nominees are shown and the two bands you’re rooting for flash on the screen but you’re not expecting either of them to win solely from how the night has gone so far. 

So when the envelope is opened and the winner is announced and you hear a loud, “The 1975!” you rise from your seat like the whole table does and throw yourself into your boyfriend’s arms. It’s a quick embrace as the room erupts in cheers, but you can’t help but cup Matty’s face softly and pull him in for a short sweet kiss followed by, “Congratulations, baby.” before you hug George and Adam. 

Ross is the furthest away so you manage to just blow him a kiss, but your boyfriend steals one more from you before he and the boys head to the stage to accept their award.

You can’t help but grin watching Flo stand up to hug the boys as they walk past. But you let out a loud cackle when Matty pulls back from the hug and cups her face and pretends to go in for a proper kiss, making Flo squeal and slap your boyfriend’s arm playfully. 

Adding to taunting Flo’s Brit experiences makes everyone laugh and when Matty waves the joke off and kisses her cheek instead she accepts it and moves him on so she can hug Ross. Despite that though you see Matty lean down and whisper into Alex’s ear, and when the singer laughs at whatever your boyfriend says it makes their table burst out laughing when Matty kisses Alex’s cheek with as much emphasis as he did Flo’s. 

As you turn to hold Charli while you watch the boys hug the actresses on stage, you glance back at Flo and Alex and cackle when Florence unfolds the top and puts it over her chest and sticks her tongue out at you. ‘I hate Matty Healy’ proudly being waved for all to see. 

Charli turns to see it too and laughs with you, catching Amelia and Carly’s attention who also join in the giggles. You, Charli, and Amelia grab yours from where you put them near the centre of the table and hold yours up to your chests too so you stand in alliance with the Monkeys like you promised. 

People around you laugh, and Carly takes a picture of the three of you like that, reminding you that you have to get a picture of the three of you and Florence in your tops before you leave. Looking back at the Monkeys table, you blow Flo a kiss that she reciprocates and Alex laughs as he shakes his head at his wife. 

Your attention goes back to the stage when you hear your boyfriend start talking and you put the top back on the table as tears well up in your eyes at the sight. You’re so fucking proud of him and the boys, all of them incredibly talented gifting everyone their art wholeheartedly every time without fail, their passion for what they do seeping through every song they make and that’s what you’ve always adored about them.

Your chest swells with pride and your eyes are teary, you manage to grab your phone and start recording as they get off stage and come back to the table. 

Matty hadn’t been able to tear his gaze off you when he was up there and he still isn’t able to stop looking at you, beaming at him with those eyes of yours gleaming under the lights. 

Oxygen escapes him all over again when all of you come back into view, and he’s so glad you’re still recording because he knows you’ll have captured the way you turn him entirely stupid at the mere sight of you. That gorgeous face of yours that he wants to kiss until you push him away, that neck that he’s dying to mark up, that body that makes him lose control of any logic, those arms and hands that hold him the way he’s been craving his whole life. 

He loves you so fucking much, his chest tightens at the thought of telling you right now. 

But before he can even open his mouth, you’re throwing yourself on his arms again and pouncing on his lips without a second to doubt your actions.

Your arms wrap around his neck and his wrap around your waist, the kiss tastes salty from the stray tears that have finally managed to run down your cheek and sweet like all the wine you’ve drank tonight. 

Despite the very large crowd you’ve got around you, you haven’t got it in you to hide away from the PDA this time. You kiss each other slowly and tenderly, like you have all the time in the world. 

And well, you do because Matty can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather than with you. Holding you like this, kissing you like this, sharing his proudest moments with you just like he has shared his struggles with you. 

He fucking loves you, adores you with all he has and nothing’s ever felt so right.

“I adore you.” He mumbles into your lips when he breaks the kiss, your chests rising and falling in rhythm as you take deep breaths.

“Adore you too.” You say back with a massive smile before catching his lips again.  Matty’s heart feels like it’s about to burst at its seams, and it’s nothing to do with the award that he won only two minutes ago. He’s got you and he knows that having you by his side will forever be more than enough. Nothing and no one can compare and he’s certain not a single thing could make him happier. He loves you so so much, all he can do is hope that when he says it, you will make his dreams come true by saying those three words back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: We really hope you enjoyed this one! So sorry it took so long, we promise that it won't take that long for the next one. Can't believe we're coming to the end of this fic, we'll be getting emotional over it soon ahaha. Thank you so much for baring with us and for reading. Please let us know what you thought and we hope you loved it xx

P.S: NRIACC girlies, hope you enjoyed this one too xoxoxoxox 

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[prototypesteve]

1994. A little story about my asexuality being misinterpreted (by a professional) as a disorder, and how that led to years of trouble.

Animation Description: An aromatic-asexual sense pride flag, onto which someone writes "So the thing is… I don't think I've ever had what my friends say would qualify as a real crush, and even after four years of college I still haven't started dating, but maybe the weirdest part is that I've never wanted to." Then, abruptly and violently black paint is spattered across the message and in white text someone superimposes the dismissive message "It's just low self esteem! – Expert opinion"

In 1994, I went to see a counsellor.

What happened was some friends and I were just talking about life. We were all in our early 20s, and so of course sex came up, and I confided that no, I hadn’t had it yet. In fact, I hadn’t even been on anything that would qualify as a date, yet.

I’ve always had good luck with friends. Instead of teasing me about it, one of them gave me the name of a counselling clinic, because they thought it might be worth checking that everything was okay, and there wasn’t something getting in the way. (It was the 1990s, and Generation X didn’t have taboos about getting help.) So I made an appointment.

I described what we’d now call textbook aromantic asexuality. I explained that I was 22, and hadn’t yet been in a relationship. I hadn’t even had anything like a crush. I hadn’t experimented; no kisses on a dare. I had pretty good friendships with guys and girls, but nothing closer than friendship. I felt “behind schedule,” especially because my friends all found it odd that I was still inexperienced.

The counsellor gently asked if I felt it was because I wasn’t allowed to be “experienced”. They noted that I referred to everything euphemistically. Experienced. Relationship. Spark. Feelings. Dating. I never said love, sex, aroused, boyfriend, or girlfriend. I never said romance. Was it because my parents had some strict taboos around seeing girls while I was just fresh out of college, when I should be focused on my career? (I’m half Japanese so that was plausible.) Was it because I felt I wasn’t allowed to love the people I felt attracted to, because I might have been gay or bisexual and hiding that? (Also a fair question, because, sadly, the 90s still weren’t a safe or fair time for my gay and lesbian friends—I didn’t know that I knew any bi or trans people at the time, although I’m sure I did.)

I thought about it. The honest answers were no. My family didn’t make me feel like dating was inappropriate or wasteful, and I just didn’t feel anything “special” for any of my guy friends (and I had guy friends who were comfortable telling me they were gay).

I went on. I explained that I felt happy. I didn’t see any obvious signs of depression or illness or anything. All I felt was a little embarrassed about being so far behind all my friends. Not dating, not “feeling the spark”, not having a “type,” and not having any thoughts on a future family all made me feel immature, and like maybe I had some kind of developmental thing going on. I knew what all those things were. I wasn’t some sheltered or repressed prude. I just wasn’t doing any of that stuff. Not even the perfectly innocent stuff like having a crush, or even really having a “type.”

But it was 1994 and counsellors didn’t have asexual or aromantic on their list of things it might be. So the best the counsellor could guess was that I just didn’t feel good about myself. It must have been low self esteem. (The early 90s still reeked of the yuppie success-or-die greedhead era.) Their guess was that I might have felt my sexuality was something I didn’t feel I had earned the right to access yet, evidenced by my using euphemisms to describe love, romance, and sexuality.

They suggested I read “Feeling Good, the New Mood Therapy” by David Burns, and not worry, because some people are just late bloomers.

And I left there, redirected away from a truth that neither of us knew about. And it would be nearly thirty years before I “reopened the case”, and asked the same questions and got a better answer: Some people experience little to no sexual or romantic attraction. They aren’t necessarily repulsed by sex, or driven away by trauma. They might even have perfectly natural responses to sexual stimuli either alone or with others, but they just don’t feel “I want that, and I want it with this specific person, or this specific sort of person”. They call those people aromantic and/or asexual, based on a presumption that romantic and sexual attraction can sometimes be experienced independently.

I learned that in 2022.

I needed to know that in 1994.

I know I’ll gradually get over that. But yeah. I feel a lot of things about it. Some of them are bad things. But what I’m going to choose to feel about it is grateful that the person who needed answers in 1994 made it to my answers in 2022, and didn’t fall apart in 2022 when I found those answers.

I didn’t let that lost time break me. I didn’t let the mistakes I made crush me. I didn’t find anyone to blame. (That counsellor in 1994 wasn’t hiding anything from me. The world just didn’t talk about people off the Kinsey Scale.) I didn’t let it derail my faith. Asexuality isn’t a curse, and our confusion and fear about the gift of being different like this isn’t the Gift-Giver’s fault.

I’m just going to keep moving. With answers. I’m looking forward to seeing what happens next.

[jjkamochoso]

The Perfect Fit

Overview: Levi Ackerman begrudgingly finds himself falling in love with the Survey Corps’ seamstress. Will they be able to own up to their feelings for each other? Or is their love doomed to fail before they discover the truths of each other’s hearts? This slow burn reader insert story will be filled with angst, yearning, and a bit of mystery as we slowly unravel the truths behind Y/N’s past… and explore her and Levi’s future!

Chapter 14

Series Masterlist

Chapter 13 linked here

Chapter 15 coming soon!

Levi Ackerman x female reader

Warnings: cussing, mentions of brothels, prostitution (nothing graphic), mention of wound infection, a tad bit of creepy men (again nothing graphic)

The thought of going into the depths of the Underground was enough to make Levi’s heart pound and skin sweat, even after all these years. Everything he saw down there, everything he experienced… would he even be able to focus enough to find you, let alone save you? Should he call for reinforcements instead of taking on this task himself? He frowned to himself. There was no way Erwin or Hange could make it in time from Wall Rose. Would your family pay the ransom? After talking with Mrs. Reimann, he learned that your family had made of name for themselves through exploitation and corruption. When she had spoken about your lineage, Levi felt his fists ball up involuntarily out his anger; he wasn’t sure if it was directed at your family for their heinous acts, or at you for reaping the benefits of it as you grew up. Rationally, he knew you weren’t at fault for any of your family’s crimes—you didn’t choose who you were born to, after all—but emotionally, Levi was falling apart at the seams. Your family were the people who kept people like him, people like his mother, stuck, living in the filth of the Underground with no other options. Then again, you had never mentioned your family once in all the time he had known you. If you were proud of their misdeeds, surely you would’ve mentioned it by now, used your connections to gain something or bragged about your immense wealth. Levi then remembered your cottage you used to live in all those months ago. That certainly didn’t exude any type of richness. Hell, his first meeting with you consisted of you almost in tears over your horse, unable to afford her medical care. Come to think of it, why did you leave the city in the first place? Why did you volunteer your time and efforts, helping the very same people who your family fought to keep poor? You were friends with Erwin long before you met Levi; with all of his trips he took with you into this city, he must’ve known your background, yet he stayed by your side as a trustworthy companion. You had run from your past and found a future in the Survey Corps, just like Levi had. He took an imperceptible steadying breath. You were still the same woman he had grown fond of and that woman was in major danger. Unfortunately, he couldn’t just rush into the Underground without some sort of formulated plan. Levi addressed the older woman once more.

“Mrs. Reimann.” His voice was firm. “Will y/n’s family pay the ransom?”

She shook her head, casting her eyes down. “I spoke with them already. They didn’t care she was taken. They will give no money.”

His expression hardened. “I see.”

Right as Mrs. Reimann went to continue her trek up the stairs, the front door to the shelter burst open, slamming against the wall. Levi had his knife out and ready to strike the person, but he hesitated when he saw it was a frantic woman.

“You’re Levi, aren’t you?” the mystery woman asked between shuttering breaths, clearly having gotten there in a hurry. He didn’t answer, instead eyeing her warily.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“Mina! Are you alright?” questioned Mrs. Reimann, hobbling down the steps. Mina gulped down some more air as Mrs. Reimann poured her a glass of water.

“You’re him, I know you are! You fit her description perfectly,” Mina continued saying to Levi. “Y/n sent me to find you. She’s injured but stable. She’s at a brothel in the Underground.”

Levi’s breath hitched in his throat as his worst nightmare was unfolding in front him but he couldn’t let his guard down at a time like this.

“How do you know y/n?” he asked accusingly.

“Her selflessness allowed me and my baby to survive when I was a prostitute. I was doing charity work of my own when I recognized her name and then her face.”

Levi turned to Mrs. Reimann who nodded.

“She’s not lying. She’s been working for me in the Underground.”

Satisfied with that answer, Levi put his knife away. “You said she was at a brothel. Which one?”

Mina told him the name and his blood froze in his veins. It couldn’t be the same one that he…?

“I’m going to get her. You two stay here.”

Mina began to protest but he shut her down immediately. “You don’t need to be involved in this any more than you already are. Don’t risk your child becoming an orphan because you want to help someone.”

His words were harsh, but she needed to hear them. He always worked better alone anyway.

Mrs. Reimann gave Levi a long hooded cloak to hide himself so no one could recognize him and copious amounts of money to cover his entry and exit from the Underground. What he really wanted was his ODM gear, especially with extra sharp blades, but that would be near impossible to bring in from above. If he got lucky, he might be able to buy some from the black market sellers below. He tucked that thought away for now and went back to task at hand, pulling the hood over his eyes and double checking his knife was easy to access.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Mrs. Reimann wondered, concern lacing her voice. “One person with one weapon isn’t much of a rescue party.”

“I’ve done more with less,” Levi responded, heading into the night.

As Levi made his way to the Underground entrance, he went over the plan in his head. It was extremely simple: get in and get out as quickly and quietly as possible. Take no lives needlessly, but if unavoidable, do so in a silent and hurried manner. The last thing he needed was MPs hot on his trail, even though he was itching to make quick work of the scum who dared to lay their hands on you. When he finally saw the entrance to the dirty expanse below the city, his heart rate shot up exponentially and doubting thoughts clouded his mind. Going back to the Underground meant facing all of the pain, heartache, suffering—it was too much for him to think about.

Get ahold of yourself, you idiot. You’re her only chance at leaving that shithole alive. You’ve lost too many people already; she can’t be another one.

The mental pep talk seemed to work because somehow he had already paid his entry fare and started descending down into the hellish place he used to call home. As darkness made way into the artificial illumination he hated with all his being, Levi felt a sense of dread wash over him. Never in a million years did he think he’d ever willingly step foot here again. He pulled his hood over his eyes a little further, hoping to find comfort behind the thick material. Traversing the maze-like pathways he knew all too well, he found himself getting hit with memories; some okay, some bad, many worse. He remembered flying above the rooftops with his first set of ODM gear and he thought about his initial meeting of Erwin (he could never rid himself of that disgusting feeling of dirty puddle on his cheek or the heaviness of Miche’s hand shoving him down into it). Levi kept his eyes low while he closing in on his destination, not wanting to be reminded of the other things that happened to him down in that good for nothing city: the spot where Kenny left him behind, the crude things said and done to a little boy who just wanted his deceased mother’s tea set back, his old residence where he, Isabel, and Farlan lived…

Levi clenched his fists.

Stay focused on the task at hand.

And so he did. He tried to clear his mind the best he could, no longer dwelling on the devastating past when he had something more important to worry about: saving you.

His future.

However, finding himself staring down the very same building where his mother died, and he almost did too, was leaving him feeling shell shocked. It was like all of the air had been punched from his lungs and some unseen force was choking him. No matter how hard he willed his feet to move, they wouldn’t listen, almost as if his body knew he should never reenter that building.

“First time? It’s just a brothel, boy, no need to be scared!” A hearty laugh came from a man next to Levi as he slapped a hand on Levi’s back. “They’re just women. They won’t hurt ya!” Another laugh as the man leaned in. “Unless ya want ‘em too!”

The man winked at Levi and stumbled inside the dimly lit doorway. Levi had just barely stopped himself from breaking the man’s unwelcome filthy fingers when they laid upon him but the interaction was enough to remind him of why he was here. A chill entered deep into his bones as he, too, made his way inside.

You didn’t know how much time had passed since Mina left you to get Levi. You didn’t know if she made it above ground, you didn’t know if she found Levi, you didn’t know if you were going to survive long enough to find any of that out. Your bullet wound, though shallow, had started bleeding through your gauze and the only bandage available was your makeshift gag from the two guys who kidnapped you. Unfortunately for you, you had thrown it on the mattress earlier and it had picked up all sorts of grime in the short amount of time it laid there. How could you tell? Because your wound was now extremely painful, sporting bright red streaks and seeping white discharge. You felt like you were about to puke and you couldn’t tell if it was from the infection, the mold on the ceilings, lack of food, or fear. The one thing that was going well for you was that your captors hadn’t negotiated your price with the brothel owner yet; or at least you didn’t think they had because no one had come into your room yet. You prayed to whatever higher being was listening that they would argue until Levi came to your aid. If he didn’t… you shuddered at the thought.

As if your prayers were heard and then thrown into the trash, the door to your room slammed open, the man you assumed to be the brothel owner coming in with a smile that made your skin crawl.

“Good news darlin’, you’re hired. I’ve got your first customer right here.”

Another man, with his face and body hidden under a cloak, entered the room and closed the door. You fought the urge to cry, not wanting to partake in any of this. You stayed curled up against the wall, your knees to your chest.

“Sir, I have a really nasty infection, I promise you don’t want me for the night,” you said, not looking at him. You heard his shoes clack against the floor as he approached you and you wiped away stray tears.

“Please, I’m begging you, don’t touch m-”

“Y/n.”

You raised your head at neck break speed. You knew that voice better than your own.

“Levi?” you whispered. He took off his hood, baring his gray eyes you hadn’t seen for but only a few hours yet felt like millennia. He stretched out his hand to help you up and you gladly took it, trying not to sob of happiness. You had been here far too long, gone through far too much, and you were ready to leave the Underground and even Wall Sina as a whole, forever. When you stood on your injured leg, you muffled a cry of pain into your arm, not wanting to sound suspicious to anyone who might be listening in.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Levi’s soft but commanding voice questioned. You shook your head.

“Good.” He had a haunted look in his eye ever since he saw you curled up on the ground, but you didn’t question it, instead letting him continue. “Can you run?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Walk?”

“Maybe.”

“Tch. That’ll have to work.” He took a step toward you that almost fully closed the gap between your two bodies, his face showing a pained expression before twisting into something more resolute. “I failed you earlier. I won’t fail you again. I’m getting you out of here.”

You mustered up a brave smile. “I trust you, Levi. Always have, always will.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he hesitated before saying exactly what you were thinking.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Chapter 15 coming soon!

Taglist: @blueeclipsepaperstudent @raginginferno267 @come-away-with-me87

[blindbeta]

I have a mostly blind main character/narrator in my ancient-Greece inspired fantasy setting. She is an epic poet. Though she experienced most of the story she tells, the story isn't about her and there are scenes that she didn't see herself. I want to show these scenes in the tradition of epic, in which the poet is omniscient.

Should the scenes my narrator didn't experience herself be described as if she had experienced them--blindness and all--or should she describe them as they've been told to her from the perspectives of others? Does doing the latter erase her blindness? Do you have a different idea? Am I overthinking this entirely?

I love your blog and appreciate any advice or critiques you have. Thanks!

I don’t think this would count as erasing blindness. It reminds me of a blind person writing or narrating a story or play, which would be similar to a sighted person doing the same. Omniscient point of view is fine for blind people, just as sharing a story told by another would be.

You can show your main character’s blindness in other ways, if she has any scenes herself inside or outside of the story she tells. Does she have a cane? How does her blindness influence or enrich her life outside of her poetry and storytelling?

You may also consider including her vision more in the epic. For example, if your character has central vision loss, the epic may not include descriptions of faces, while instead focusing on voice, tone, degree of warmth, color, or texture. Even if the story is told in omniscient point of view, the narrator’s influence could still be felt.

Lastly, while ‘mostly blind’ is a bit of a misconception of blindness, it sounds like your character has some vision, as most blind people do. Even totally blind people can describe events and people visually. With this in mind, she could use her residual vision without issue.

I think having a sensitivity reader would be helpful. Such as through me, @sensitivityreaders

If you feel worried about your main character’s blindness, perhaps portraying blindness in other characters would help. Given the setting, characters might be more susceptible to common causes of blindness due to having less access to healthcare, particularly modern treatment. Common causes of visual impairment and blindness, according to this page by the World Health Organization, include cataracts, glaucoma, uncorrected refractive errors, age-related macular degeneration, or diabetic retinopathy. Lack of access to healthcare could lead to higher rates of vision loss due. You may be able to use some of those, if that helps.

[palmviolet]

Hello, hello! Sooooo, i love your ST fic and I am in awe of your writing skills. Especially your deep pov writing. It reads so close, so visceral ... so mind blowing good. So let me ask you this: HOW!? I aspire to write more in a deep pov but fail at it. I'm able to tell a story from one pov (what characters are doing/perceiving/talk) but it lacks the depth of that inner world? Do you have any tips when to dive deeper, what to pull from? Is there a good ratio of doing/perciving vs. inner world? I'm grateful for any help/tips you would share. <3

thank you so much! i love answering writing questions and i shall endeavour to do my best with this one. most of my writing practice comes pretty unthinkingly, in that i sort of construct characters' interior monologue on instinct, but i've developed that ability over a number of years of work. the main thing i can say is just read as much as you possibly can — i often find that each thing i read imbues me with a different sort of style for a time, which is something i can bank in the repertoire. exposure to a lot of different styles means you can experiment, and eventually find what suits you best. no one style of perspective or narrative is inherently better than the others, and it definitely benefits you to try them all out!

that being said, it sounds like you're trying to go for an extremely focused third person, which is what i generally use. and my advice there is that on the whole it's a matter of balancing internal thoughts with actions. internal thoughts meaning not 'he thought [xyz]' but rather just [xyz]. for example, instead of 'he thinks about how difficult it will be to do this', something as simple as 'how is he supposed to do this?'

basically, you integrate what the character might be saying to themselves in their head into the flow of the narrative. thoughts and memories become combined into a flow that could be a monologue, just interior and in the third person still: 'how is he supposed to do this? he can't do this. he's the son of a con and that con, his father the con, his father said to him get out and now he's here, being asked to persist, being asked not to get out. stay in one place and don't run. but what he's good at, it's running, it's the thing handed down to him from a man who hated him who taught him things anyway-'

and so on. see how it contextualises the character's history and thought patterns — in this case eddie, who tends to let things get away from him, has a very scattered interior monologue — into what they're experiencing in the present moment. it's not, 'he thought about his father, who'd told him to leave, which made it difficult to accept that now he had to stay,' which is an equally valuable way of expressing the same ideas but evokes a greater sense of distance from the character's headspace, which is not what we're going for — instead we're experiencing the flood of eddie's panicked, scattered thoughts in the way those thoughts are delivered.

basically, in this style of writing, the medium is the message. but this is most important in the more functional bits of the narrative — passages like the one above should be used sparingly, to maximum emotional effect, since they can slow the pacing dramatically.

in general, try to imbue the syntax and the flow of details with the narrator's personality — such as in a moment of description, pick out only the things that are relevant to the narrator, the things that the narrator would notice, and do so with extreme prejudice. for example, in better by you, eddie's constantly noticing car models or band names; he might notice a side character's blond hair, square jaw, and general atmosphere of looking like they listen habitually to duran duran. so transmit the things you want/need your reader to know about the side character not only through basic detail (the visual of blond hair, square jaw) but also through your narrator's unique flair (duran duran listener, meaning eddie finds this guy unoriginal and beholden to trend cycles). contextual details of the narrator's life are key, and indeed it's in these fleeting moments of description that their character comes across most naturally — this moment, for example, tells us that eddie is a music snob prone to snap judgements. so in a single sentence we've established the side character's appearance and possible personality (which could be subverted later, owing to eddie's presumptions) while also reaffirming one of the narrator's key character traits.

all this is is also a matter of balance. you can't be trying to reveal character traits with every single sentence of your writing — a lot of those sentences are just there to get you from a to b, and to get bogged down in writing a personality is a surefire route to purple prose. i'd recommend trying this approach and then going through and paring back the internal monologue: phrases like 'how is he supposed to do this?' pack a punch and should therefore be sparing. i will say that my stranger things works tend more towards the YA side of things, which is a genre that encourages a strong, declarative internal monologue with thoughts written out on the page like that. i've been trying to move towards a slightly more understated style (but still focused 3rd person) in my works for other fandoms simply because ST is more of a YA show and the others... are not lol. but as a general approach it's better to throw everything on the page and then cut it down — just go wild. pretend you are that character. imbue it with every single thought they might ever have or have had and then, when it comes time to think about pacing and action, choose the juiciest, most concise bits to keep. you won't have realised it when writing, but just the act of trying to embody that character will have seeped personality into the most basic of action sentences, meaning the more obvious thought-statement ones become superfluous.

i hope this was helpful! it's late and i wrote about 4000 words today and replied to 47 comments so i'm sort of frazzled but i do love talking about my craft, so feel free to ask me anything else.

[naffeclipse]

*Arrives at Internet Explorer Speed*

Hey guys! Those new chapter of Lack of Light, am I right??!

FDKHKFGH Sorry I needed to make a silly entrance back in your inbox Naff XD

But aaaaaa I finally came back to read these and I'm here with a brand new comment!! For the two chapters I was missing no less! :D

So let's get to it!

Ok so first off I don't know if I'm just looking too much into it but I read this line: "You rely on your eyes to adjust to the darkness" from th first paragraph and it just felt significant to the rest of the chapter, you know? Very literal but metaphorical at the same time!

And oooh something I definitely have to praise in this is the amazing description of the anguish through all the physical sensations that the reader is going through. I think I've mentioned before that when I read reader inserts I don't truly put my real self in the story but rather try to imagine it through the main characters eyes, but wow did I feel this one. The way you detail all those physical effects that anxiety has on the body, beautifully described through images and comparisons, just made it seem so very real. I basically could almost feel them myself, just remembering times when I had definitely experienced something similar, even if the causes were different! I will always applaud your descriptions, Naff! Makes me want to take notes!

And AAAAAAA I gotta say that I absolutely love how just, hrrrr, I'm struggling to find the words to describe it, but I would say how there's a clear parallel between what both Reader and Eclipse are going through?

Because ok, first of all, is the matter of hiding right? Reader seems to be trying to hide (kind of like Eclipse does his true self), but through a mask instead of blindness. Even through previous encounters they have tried to present themselves a very specific way. The unshakable one. Unaffected by everything, at least in a way that goes beyond mild funny venting. And it feels like something they force themselves to do in their daily life, beyond the forest. It's just they're so used to doing it, that it became a part of how they perceive themselves and failing to do so feels to them like they're showing a part of themselves that is intolerable. And aaaaa then Eclipse also because clearly he must have enough experience having met other humans to know that even those that dared stay after learning of his presence ran away after seeing him. So both hide and hide while they wish for more and hate themselves for it, and might even think they don't deserve it.

(Sidenote: I love this description: "The mysterious being who exists in pure darkness, cast by the sun and the moon." Obviously because it references his name (be it a solar or lunar eclipse), but also because it reminds of his strange nature. Because an Eclipse is an event! A phenomenon that is not exactly a natural object, but something that can only be seen under the right conditions!)

And oooh speaking about Eclipse and hiding, I just love the contrast between Eclipse's darkness coming from being unseen vs the darkness born from emptiness. Because Reader so far hasn't been daring at all in pushing to see him, because they fear the latter. Eclipse's nature is intimidating, and it's often said that we fear not the darkness itself, but what we might find in it. But here it's the contrary! Both Reader and Eclipse fear that potential emptiness. They have found company in each other thanks to the darkness, but should something go wrong (pushing too much or scaring the other one away), they would find themselves staring into the void and nothing else.)

And that exactly leads into the doubts about what the other thinks once they've revealed themselves! And it's so interesting how they fear so intensely that the "flaw" they see in themselves, which are kinda opposite, is what will make the other regret meeting them. Like for Reader is that vulnerability, that inability to be perfect about everything that hits them in their daily life and dealing easily with it. They fear their "weakness" will disgust a great being as Eclipse. And for Eclipse is fearing that his form, great, strange, intimidating, monstrous, is what will leave him without his dear one. His very nature enough to drive them away. When in reality, it's likely those very things that made them initially appealing to the other! The Reader a precious little creature, that despite not having horns or sharp teeth lives their daily life bravely (enough to befriend a shadowy being). And Eclipse, a fascinating and fearsome creature, that despite it all demonstrates he's gentle and kind and capable of becoming that friend that provides the most comfort in Reader's life!

Ooooh I just adore how two very different beings, with way more differences than similarities, still have this experience in common. That fear and uncertainty about letting themselves be known, because past experience has thought them it's unwise, and yet they find relief from that terrible all-consuming anxiety when they let themselves trust that this time it will be different and that it is worth it, even if it is raw, to open up and let the right person in.

Now for Mothman Moon!

Just starting and the Reader is already turning the headlights on and off repeatedly jfhdsgkh Prime conditions for Mothman sightings! XD

Oooh I love how you build up the paranoia! Different situations, but it makes me think when it's late at night and for whatever reason you need to go out in a hallway of your home and you gotta reassure yourself that no, there's nothing lurking in the shadows of your home, be an adult and walk calmly jghdkfsj The feeling of being exposed and on edge is so very well achieved! But also all the little hints, like the raven falling quiet. And that instinctual feeling of being watched! Related to all this, I adore this line: "Your optimism slips in the slightest before you yank it back up by the throat and continue marching along." I felt that in my soul fkijhdfgkñjh

Aaaa I love how everything falls quiet at the flapping of wings! Everything knows to be quiet and freeze. And I love Reader is part of that everything. Like they are connected to the forest around them by virtue of not wanting to draw attention to themselves, something they share with all the creatures around.

And oooooo such a spooky sight when we finally get a glimpse of him!! Kinda gave me the urge to hold my breath as well as I read! Just the sight of the glowing red eyes coming from a shadow within the fog would paralyze anyone for sure! And then gjhfdkg poor Reader just shifts horror flavor from Creature-in-the-forest-that-could-kill-me to Stranger-Danger. Pick your poison and all that XD But man that instinct does seriously kick in when a stranger gives us bad vibes huh?

(As a sidenote, I love how you've given the different readers between chapters different responses to fear! Like the first chapter with Sun had Fight if I remember correctly, then the second chapter had Fawn, which I think it's trying to please to prevent from being harmed, even if the fear wasn't so much of Eclipse but of abandonment, and in this one we have Freeze! Which we see twice when Moon first appears and then when the car races towards them!)

Oh. My gosh??? The fact that Moon is just able to take on a car that's going full speed though?? Damn! And oooh he was not happy. He does not appreciate assholes/downright murderers in this area. (Btw I can't help but think that he did in fact break that second light slower on purpose to seem more menacing fjkhdaskjh)

Aaaa it's fascinating how he seems so perplexed by the Reader's response to everything that just happened! Like he doesn't quite understand the freeze response. It's something animals do as well, but I'm guessing if it doesn't work then most would ultimately run from the danger. It's probably the first instance of this he has encountered! And poor reader seems to just be very badly affected by it, physically as well as mentally judging by the lightheadedness.

(sidenote: "He looms, his wings flaring out beside him in magnificent flares of warnings and death." Me, helpless DCA simp, vivid image of the majestic view in my head: Um yes, hi, hello? 👉👈 GFÑLKDJHGÑLJ)

And aaaaa I loved the flight scene! I myself am pretty scared of heights so I likely would have screamed gkjhfdksj but! I love that we continue the theme of braving a bit of the fear to discover something wonderful! Despite my fear of heights I've always imagined how wonderful it would be to have wings and this scene just striked me as something terrifying yet beautiful because it really is an experience that Reader wouldn't get anywhere else! And despite the polarizing feelings of fear and safety just warring inside of them, the wonder was just so tangible as Moon carried them through the air!

And ooo I find it so interesting how he refers to multiple things as the "lights", which from his perspective must be the most notable characteristic of the stuff that emanates it! It's clear he's familiar with cars, and likely has witnessed what happens when one hits a living thing. And the light of the gas station tells him that it's a place humans go to. So he knows it's not just lights, but he still seems to perceive it as their most important characteristic. Aaaa I'm so curious about what the world looks like to him because of this!

And ough it's so sweet he keeps watch over them as they go trying to get the help they need. It seems to me he finds them really intriguing and the fact that he gave them his name could mean he hopes it will not be their last meeting!

And that's that!

Aaaaaa everytime I come back to your writing I keep being taken by surprise by how well you manage to make the reader immerse themselves in the story! Your descriptions are so vivid and your use of the language so *chef kiss*! Everytime I'm just dying to know what's the word that follows the previous one, what will happen, and when that tasty tension you build so well will reach it's snapping point! This little series was a delight to read and a very nice journey into what fear and darkness means to different people. And of course, meeting some very strange and fascinating creatures that make the unknown not as bad as it seemed <3

Thanks for this delicious chapters Naff! It's always a delight reading what you make! 

(Sorry if something is phrased weirdly btw, it’s kinda late as I’m writing this fgkjhdsk)

AHHH CHAOTIK! HI, HELLO! WELCOME BACK!!! I'm so glad to see you in my inbox again!!

Oh, I am rattling you so hard right now! I live for your analysis and I especially love that you caught how much Eclipse and Y/N complement and contrast each other—the same fears but different reasons. They are dear ones, your honor!!!

And Moon! My Mothman!Moon! He's so much fun to write! I'm really glad you enjoy his spooky entrance and his descriptions!

Also, with the readers, that's so funny that it changes from Fight, Fawn, and Freeze! I meant for Mothman's Y/N to freeze but I also think it's neat to explore different responses to fear, so I'm happy that stood out!

(He did break the second car light slowly—he's so dramatic lol)

He does have a different view of the world due to lights—humans have lights. Humans drive with them, live with them, and are afraid without them. Lights are just as foreign as those humans! But he does have a particular interest in Y/N—they were almost hit by the lights themselves. It's now every time he sees that, but he was curious from how they froze to how they were terrified yet in awe of flying. He even finds them cute but doesn't expect to see them again! But Y/N has plans of venturing back to the words with the mothman hehe

Gah, thank you so much, Chaotik! I love how in-depth you go and reading your thoughts makes my day, babe! <3

[brandycranby]

You have Ari wips? ☺️ if you're up for it, may we have a nibble of something ip?

hi needle ☺️🫶🏻 have a snippet from one of my oldest wips, arranged marriage a/b/o duke!ari x princess!reader AU, (asian/desi coded as always but no description)

His hands guide yours off your clothes but he doesn't try to loosen your skirts. Instead, he slides closer on the bench, pulling you onto his lap and enclosing you in the fold of his arms.

"This is a hug, sweetest. Have you… have you never had one?"

Muted by the cloak of his scent, you shake your head. His heart beats under your ear, a steady even pound that soothes the bristling creature in your head. It's so warm, so dark where you're pressed up against his chest, hidden away in his arms. Safe. You're so safe cradled here. It makes you want to nuzzle his neck and breathe in his thick musk until you’re lightheaded, take liberties with this kind Alpha without his leave.

The wetness of your tears doesn't register immediately, but when it does, it's with a jolt of panic that makes you twist away.

long rambling under the cut :^))

i've wanted to write a palace setting ever since i started writing fic, especially during quarantine when i was consuming stuff like bajirao mastani and a shitload of tvb historical dramas. i think about what it must have been like to grow up in a harem, to fight for dignity and respect that should have been given to you, to have to hide your softness and be strong and sharp and smart unless you wanted to get killed by another concubine.

i also think about how physical touch is something so forbidden in many asian cultures and how much im starved for contact. i think about how emotional i am, how many tears i can cry at a time, and how my mom never ever cries when things get tough because it's natural for her to process rationally and logically. she's not broken or missing anything in the same way that someone with autism isnt broken for experiencing life and emotion differently. im not looking to demonizing one culture or another and i definitely not making this into an east vs west white savior thing.

but growing up, i didnt know what to do. it was a big learning process solved by communicating what i needed. i recommend this comic by ruth chan which is very healing

so, this fic is an illustration of the balancing act i've finally kinda mastered after 20 years. duchess isnt there yet, she's still struggling to accept that she's more emotional than what her culture prescribes as proper and appropriate and that she can't control it. because she was never taught why or how and how to feel safe communicating this with someone she trusts.

i thought it'd be interesting to put all of this in the context of a/b/o which we know deals a lot with physical touch and instinct and emotions. i wanted to see how different origins and traditions create miscommunications. and ari is the perfect vehicle for this. it's going to hurt so much (sorry duchess) and then he's going to be a soothing balm for us all.

it's all so very very complicated and close to my heart. thats why it's taking so long :'))

i also understand that this is reader with a lot of personality, one that you (general you) may not vibe with and i say thats valid. jjst please move on if she bothers you or if you feel like you cant connect with the fic.

that being said, even if she's was not written for you, i hope you can still try to understand her and feel affection for her and the story

@punemy-spotted duchess mention <3

[ilikekidsshows]

wait where did astruc say that stuff about sailor moon now 😭 is that like a recent thing or??

---

There's a new interview out, or there's a proper translation for an older one, because I’d heard some of the stuff in it before, but Astruc could also just be repeating himself. The interview is for Astruc’s ego stroking, since he mostly spends it playing the pass the blame game for his contested writing decisions and trying to sound wise and experienced by pretending he’s seen critically acclaimed shows he actually hasn't. He also tries to hype people up for Miraculous being this never-ending show that just goes on and on by claiming he has only told 5% of the story he has planned. I’m just wondering, if he has so many story ideas, why didn't season 4 have a proper story and spent all its runtime setting up season 5 instead? He also claims season 7 will make you rethink season 6, which makes me think it's gonna be another season 4 where nothing actually happens despite this show being supposedly fully serialized now. Or they're going to make some more blatant retcons and pretend they're surprising and totally set up plot twists instead.

A lot of people are freaking out about Astruc saying there's enough of this sloppily-told story to last us twelve seasons, but I’m cringing at his claims that they have Gabriel and André’s backstories all figured out and they’d like to dig into that some more while giving André a redemption arc. He was really into the idea of an André redemption arc, because, as he puts it, André actually wants to change unlike Chloé, who Astruc really totally wanted to redeem, you guys, but she told him no :( 

I’m serious, by the way; he literally claims he wanted to redeem Chloé and gave her every chance to change her ways but she just wouldn't, because real people in her position wouldn't and they value realism oh-so-much, which is why Marinette can install a one-way mirror in the girls' bathroom at her school and not get a felony charge. He loves to act like he isn't the puppeteer holding the strings. I can hardly wait for some retroactive justification for how these rich, middle-aged white men’s abuse and neglect of their children is okay. The show didn't have enough abuse apologia in it yet! :D

Like, I expect writers to lie about how great their writing is, they're trying to sell you a product of said writing after all. I just think, if he's gonna claim he’s doing something new and unique, he should actually check the media he claims his show is related to. Every time he makes statements about shows, movies or comics, he makes it obvious that he doesn't actually know anything a person who’d seen them would know about them. Like, yes, Sailor Moon is the core Scout, but any decisions the Sailor Scouts make are made together or Luna gives them orders. Usagi is not the standard type leader Astruc makes it sound like she is when he says his Sailor Moon -like Miraculous AU would have Marinette “lead her own hero team”. Although I’d be interested in an AU where Marinette actually cares about what others think, Astruc has made it clear that's not what he's interested in, so his description of Sailor Moon is already incorrect before he says this version of Miraculous also wouldn't have a love story, because I guess he thinks the “Tuxedo Mask is useless” memes are the actual canon or something, which just proves that he hasn't seen the show, since from the first episode onward, Tuxedo Mask is an important, helpful ally to Sailor Moon. Just because he doesn't have flashy magic attacks in the first anime doesn't mean he doesn't contribute important insight or distractions or isn't actually physically capable.

Basically, Astruc can't say two sentences about a piece of media without all of it being incorrect. He's gotten way too comfortable thinking nobody in this fandom reads or watches anything not Miraculous-related, probably because, in all these years, the fandom at large hasn’t discovered that Marinette is clearly just Nikki Maxwell with superpowers all the way down to her character design. When you get away with plagiarism, it tends to make you cocky.

[jahayla-parker]

Hey so I was wonder if you could write a story with either kaz brekker x ADHD reader or freddy Carter x ADHD reader where the reader is struggling and ends up with haveing breakdown and is in tears with the fact that they can't stay focused and everything is slipping into a mess and they are struggling and they just comfort the reader .

I haven't been feeling very well lately and begin feeling overwhelmed and I love your work

Over It All : Freddy Carter x Reader

Hi! So sorry for just getting to this! Ironically enough, I was experiencing this myself over the last few months. I hope you’re feeling better! 🖤

I did both characters/people, but I broke it up.

In this one you’ll find Freddy’s version. Kaz’s version is coming soon (I’ll tag you in it)

Description: 1.9k wc, reader struggles with her ADHD to the point of breaking into tears, prompting Freddy to come to her aid. Hurt-comfort, angst-fluff

Warnings: ADHD symptoms and experiences discussed, neurodivergencies mentioned, mention of crying and sadness, negative thoughts of self, some angst but fluffy ending/comfort

Y/n sniffled as she aggressively wiped her face with the back of her hand. She couldn’t stop crying. Her ADHD paralysis had flared up and left her feeling hopeless and ashamed of herself. She knew it wasn’t anything she did nor a true flaw, but she could help the misery she felt.

She’d been trying to finish this project for her job since the early hours of this morning. Yet, she’d gotten practically nowhere with it. It was as if there were a million other things her mind would rather focus on. She had lost all control over her flickering thoughts hours ago.

Meaning she was now crying alone in her home-office as her latest attempt to start the project failed. Her husband Freddy was on set filming today, meaning if anything she should’ve had less distractions. But, instead her mind had begun thinking of different tasks she should do for him since he was out. She knew she was screwed when even those self-created tasks weren’t ones she could force herself to do.

Everyone thought ADHD was silly and fun. Sure, some of the behavioral ‘symptoms’ of the condition could be taken that way. But, most of the time one was either overly engaged or under engaged. It was a constant pendulum that caused havoc when it swung too far in either direction.

Today it had swung too far towards the direction of executive dysfunction. Executive dysfunction was a hard concept for many neurotypical individuals to grasp. As such, many neurotypicals saw neurodivergents who were experiencing the effects of executive dysfunction as lazy or inconsiderate. This of course didn’t help the fact that those with ADHD often struggled with their self image already.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to do the work project, and she certainly wanted to do the caring tasks she’d thought of doing for Freddy. Yet, she was stuck. Y/n was not able to get herself to even begin any of the tasks. Instead, she’d wasted the day away in her futile attempts to start them only to fall into self-directed frustration over and over again.

So it came as no surprise that once she’d officially given up on trying to complete anything she had wished to do, she begun crying. She felt like a horrible wife and employee even though she wasn’t. But the frustration she had towards herself and her predicament clouded everything else. Hence why she was willing to sit by herself at her desk as she shook from crying.

Freddy had been home for only a matter of five minutes when he noticed the absence of his wife’s presence. She always seemed to greet him when he’d return if she’d been working from home that day. He recalled having said goodbye to her in their home-office this morning, so why wasn’t she greeting him?

He slowly made his way to their office space to try and see if she was still working. As he entered the doorway, he noticed the way her shoulders were hunched over her desk. He furrowed his brows as he checked that the lights were all on and therefore not the cause of her face being so close to the table.

It was in that moment that he watched her body tremble and heard her faint cries. Once he’d recovered from the sudden sinking in his chest, he took a deep breath and rushed over to her.

“Darling?” Freddy panicked, his hand placed on her upper back delicately.

Y/n’s head snapped up but she didn’t turn to him. Instead, she wiped her face again and took a loud breath. It was clear she was trying to compose herself before she’d face him.

Freddy knelt beside his wife, his worry evident in his features. But he knew not to push her. She’d respond once she felt steady enough to do so.

It took a few moments of silence but she eventually did turn to face him, a fake smile on her face. Freddy shook his head at her blatant coverup and grasped her hand in his tightly. Y/n sighed softly when she realized he wasn’t falling for her pretend happiness.

She didn’t want him to feel sorry for her. Nor did she want him to know she hadn’t been able to accomplish anything today. She felt like a burden. Despite knowing how much Freddy loved and cared for her, she didn’t want him to see her in this state. But she also wouldn’t lie to her husband.

“I… I did not get the project done” she admitted shyly, her hand shoving the planning sheets across the desk towards him.

Freddy’s eyes briefly left her frame to scan the documents she was showing him. He noticed she had a bunch of stray marks and squiggles on the paper. However, nothing else had been added since he saw the sheets this morning.

She didn’t need to tell him what was happening. He knew of her ADHD and the highs and lows that came with it. As such, he knew how to best handle this situation on his end.

“That’s okay love, sometimes ideas don’t flow as easily as they normally do” he encouraged, neatly stacking the papers.

“It wasn’t just the ideas, I couldn’t even start the rest of it. I also…” she sighed as she trailed off and looked away.

Freddy sighed quietly as his heart sank further upon seeing her continued distress. “Y/n, it doesn’t matter what you did or did not do today, you-“.

“I was going to make you that soup you like” y/n interrupted, fiddling with her fingers, “but I couldn’t. I wanted to, but…”.

“But you weren’t able to get up and get started on it” he finished to her, tugging her hand back to him to calm her nervous fidgeting.

She nodded and sighed, “I wanted us to be able to have that soup, but then I began thinking about each step. Washing the dishes to get the ladle clean, getting out the ingredients, chopping the vegetables,..”

Freddy stood up quietly, prompting her eyes to snap upwards to see him. He wasn’t sure why there seemed to be a sense of panic in her y/e/c eyes. But he wished it weren’t there. He didn’t have to wait long to find out the cause behind it as she soon blurted out her worry.

“Please don’t leave” she begged.

Freddy gave her a sympathetic shake of his head, “‘m not, just standing to help guide you to the living room, my love”

Y/n visibly calmed but then began listing off the tasks she still needed to complete.

“Darling, those can all wait. You deserve to rest” he stated.

She shook her head, “no I don’t. I didn’t get anything done today. It’s embarrassing and I-“

“You don’t need to be ashamed” Freddy told her, stroking her cheek as he towered over her seated form.

“I don’t not what I’m doing anymore” y/n exclaimed, “I can’t do anything right”. She glanced up at her husband before continuing to try and explain what she was feeling. “I’m worthless, I can’t even focus on one thing for a mere second” she pointed out.

“Don’t put yourself down like that” Freddy pleaded, his heart clenching. He watched her sigh but nod as if accepting his request. As such he gave her a soft smile and tugged on her hand, “let’s go to the living room. What do you want to do tonight? Don’t worry about how we’ll do it, I’ll handle that. Just tell me what you’d like us to do”.

“I just want to be held for a bit” she admitted quietly as she rose to her feet before him.

“I like this” y/n told him as she snuggled further into his embrace.

Freddy chuckled lightly, “me too. I never want to let go, my love”.

Y/n let her husband hold her and offer her comforting words and back rubs while she tried to silence her mind. He had helped her not feel the deep despair she’d been feeling moments before he arrived. Yet, she still felt she should’ve done so much more today.

Freddy seemed to notice her quietness, his grip tightening ever so slightly. He placed a soft kiss to the top of her head as he hummed. “You don’t have to do it all” he whispered.

“But then people will be let down. If I don’t-“ she began, making Freddy notice the way her pace quickened from her emotions.

“They don’t matter. You matter, my love” he cut her off, carefully brushing his fingers through her tangled hair. “You’re all that matters, and right now you need rest. It doesn’t matter what they need or want” Freddy stated definitively. He smiled to himself as her muscles visibly relaxed.

Freddy was attempting to give her a long thoughtful compliment, but y/n was hopelessly distracted. She’d been staring at his dimples and then at the freckles on his face instead of focusing on what he was saying. She’d tried to listen, truly, but his face was just so beautifully distracting to her.

She broke her gaze from the patch of freckles on his cheek when she noticed she no longer heard his voice. Y/n glanced up at him as she silently hoped he hadn’t asked her a question. Fortunately, she could read his facial expressions and knew he wasn’t awaiting any response. However, she could also tell he had noticed her lack of attention.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, “I was listening.. at first. But then I… I wasn’t listening to you, I’m sorry babe”.

He shook his head, “it was I that wasn’t truly listening. If I had, I’d have remembered to use shorter sentences”.

Y/n watched him cautiously as she tried to let his words erase her guilt. It wasn’t until he smiled softly at her and placed a delicate kiss on her cheek that she accepted that her guilt was unfounded. Having realized this, she let her mind wander back to where it was before.

As such, she soon found herself tracing imaginary lines between his freckles with her pointer finger. She was acutely aware of Freddy’s eyes watching her do this. But her attention remained stuck on this unimportant but intriguing task.

“Are you playing connect the dots with my freckles?” Freddy grinned, his cheeks heating up.

Bashfully she nodded and giggled, “yes”.

He smiled widely, “see you focused and completed something”.

“On something minor, for short time” she argued.

“It’s still focus and you need to respect yourself for doing that. Today is just one of those days in which we need to have a more relaxed atmosphere” he stated as if it were the most simple thing in the world.

Y/n was so beyond grateful for her husband. He always seemed to know how to help her when she was in one of her downhill moods. She couldn’t understand how he comprehended her struggles with such ease and patience. But she was eternally thankful for it.

Unbeknownst to her, when y/n first struggled with her ADHD paralysis/executive dysfunction, Freddy had looked into it. She had tried to explain it to him but kept getting too emotional to effectively do so. Not that he minded. But, he took it upon himself to research the issue and see what ways to best offer her help. Clearly, the research paid off.

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[fuh-saw-t]

-How to Write Character Dialogue-

Part 2: Characterisation Boogaloo

One again beginning with the mandatory 'This is just my process with my writing style. I don't work on what is correct - I work on what I find is best in my opinion. You can take this advice, adapt it to your own style, stories and characters, etc'.

This post concerns the specifics of dialogue. The more open-ended advice can be found here, under the Macro-View.

The 'Micro-View'

Once again, I made that term up.

Every story, character, scene and method of presenting events, thoughts, feelings and expressions will inevitably be unique. Here, I'll explore different approaches, methods and considerations that you can take to heart whilst writing the dialogue of your characters.

-

Amount

In the writing of dialogue, your first consideration should be 'does this character need to say anything here?'

Oftentimes, I see dialogue which, if removed, has no change on ambience, the scene, character development, characterisation or any relevant interactions. Does your character need to input their opinion here? Not thinking of the usual 'who asked?' sort of way, but does it change, show or do anything? Do they need to exclaim "Woah!" or can that instead be described, or omitted entirely?

Too much useless character dialogue can sort of 'clog up' your page, if you get what I mean. What I'm referring to, however, in no means include things that you believe adds something to your character, a character relation, or the ambience and feel of the scene. I made a note of this in the previous post, but I felt this deserved an elaboration/secondary mention.

-

Emotions and Intensity

Dialogue in intense and emotional moments, especially in a dramatic scene, I think can do wonders. It serves to engage your reader and direct the scene, instead of just having people kick each other or cry. As dialogue should be separated through paragraphs at each person talking, it makes the scene move quickly - the reader reads it quickly, too. Kind of meta, isn't it?

Make use of syntax. Short sentences, pauses, ellipsis (the dots and omission kind), false starts, etc. All of these can show emotion and make your dialogue feel natural, without having to state it outright. E.g.

"I don't think this is working," he said. "It's not that I'm… ungrateful, that's just— that's not what I mean. We need to try something else, something new."

Not the best example I could give, but this post isn't exactly a Times Best Seller (as if that means anything).

Someone who is nervous ‐ for any reason, if they're in front of their crush, are experiencing fear, etc - may use a lot of these pauses and false starts. But it's good to remember not to overdo them. Read your text out loud. Seriously, it helps. Overusing pauses and false starts can really dampen their effect.

Also, people never stutter as much as you think they do, unless they have a speech impediment (which is perfectly valid, if that's a part of your character). Stuttering is fine, but don't overdo it nor use it in situations where it doesn't call for it, unless it's a recognised trait in your character. Even then, going "N-N-N-N-No" never looks good. Like, it genuinely doesn't look good on the page nor screen. Yes I do judge that.

Italics can also be used as emphasis to convey intensity. So can dashes. Use exclamation points wisely, punctuation marks can be easily overused.

As another note, please use description and character actions alongside emotive or intense dialogue. Dialogue is never separate to your descriptions nor your story. Think carefully about how you can use expressions, actions and descriptions of tones to further the feeling you're intending to show in your dialogue, or to change the meaning of what a character is saying in context.

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Informal Speech and Accents

Popular character distinctions can involve the written display of slang, informal speech and accents. Personally, I adore these traits, as they can add character and insinuate things that do not have to be explicitly said; the use of informalities can really distinguish your character and make them memorable and unique.

But, as with everything, things can go horribly wrong (in my opinion).

Rule one of dialogue: don't get caught up trying to make your dialogue grammatically correct. It's not going to sound natural. Slang and general, everyday informalities may not be in many dictionaries nor will it be accepted by autocorrect or grammarly, but that doesn't mean it shouldn't be in your writing. Different characters' uses of colloquialisms (such as, 'Heyo!' 'How's it hangin?' 'Darn it.') can add a certain quirk to them, whether this means they use general popular slang or no slang at all. Don't ever think of removing colloquialisms from a characters' dialogue for the sake of having correct grammar. This also goes for traits of AAVE. Use it when you see fit, whether or not conventional grammar agrees with it. All variations of English are valid. Moreover, I adore it when fantasy or other-world stories make their own unique slang, informalities or alternative vocabulary. It can say so much about the world they live in, and what some groups' ideologies are.

However, make sure you don't overdo the use of slang or divergent grammar and syntax. It's good to make your characters talk differently and have styles of speech that are distinct from one another, but what's even more important is that your reader can understand what you're writing. If you're using so much that someone has to have Urban Dictionary open while they read your story, that's not a good sign. This also goes for accents; it's sometimes beneficial to diversify speech, but if the spelling differences and grammatical changes get so prominent a reader can't read it or has to re-read to understand, you have a bit of a problem to correct. If they can't understand the dialogue, they don't understand your story. I've had to put multiple written works (published books, even) down because the use of slang and how they write in accents was so proficient I couldn't figure out what characters were saying.

Overall, I'd say not to write out accents (changing spelling with how words would be said). It can really make the dialogue unreadable, and can often turn out sounding like an offensive caricature.

-

Education

A common character dialogue difference which I also love is the distinctions between those who are educated and those who are not. Of course, this is very diverse among characters and can go beyond that black-and-white summary. A character's status may be at play, their ego, or even how they are educated - a character who is educated by people who value different things or hate another group may speak differently to one who is educated in another way.

Common distinctions made to show educational or cultural differences between characters include contractions and vocabulary.

Contractions (such as 'don't' or 'I'll') are something I often see absent in characters of high status or education. This, though often functional, can be overdone. I'll touch more on my other approach to this later, but the complete absence of contractions can make someone sound like a robot. Urgent situations may make even the most high-status, educated character use ellipsis (in the omission way, as referenced in the last post), contractions and other forms of shortening.

Moreover, in relation to vocabulary, the character may not use long words at every interval. They may be more articulate and expressive in their word choices, but that doesn't equate to using lesser-known or complicated words. If you want to diversify your character's vocabulary, though, always take into account pragmatics and general use, and if it sounds natural in the context. Again repeating to read your dialogue out loud and get a proofreader. It can save your writing, seriously.

On a mirroring note, if you're dealing with highly uneducated characters, be careful with how you present them. Just because someone is uneducated, or doesn't have an expansive vocabulary or a solid grasp of grammar, doesn't mean they're any less intelligent or expressive. The character may articulate their feelings in a different way, but that is not a lesser way. Let the character be creative with their words and how they lay them out. Remember that a lack of education in a character does not, in any way, equal stupidity.

Related: Educated characters who overuse big words in weird contexts sound dumber than any uneducated character ever will. Facts, ykno.

-

Character Limitations

There are a lot of ways you can accidentally limit the range of your character's expression through the writing of their dialogue. Here's things to look out for. And yes, these are all things I've seen before.

To do with typography (fonts, font sizes, bold and italics), I heavily advise against giving a character a distinctive typographic style of speaking. For example, doing this:

"I AM HERE!"

"HELLO!"

"What's the matter?"

This, in a way, limits your character extensively. A character who is consistently written to speak in all-caps or bolded lettering will always sound like they're yelling, and will not have room to express themselves in a more sympathetic, emotive or calm way. This is unless you forfeit the style, which is a problem in itself. It creates inconsistency: a writer's biggest downfall, in some cases. In fact, this use at all is inconsistent, as not all characters will have their dialogue written with the same method of typography. Also, it just kind of looks ugly on the page and can cause accessibility problems with those who have dyslexia or sight issues.

In addition to this, there is what I mentioned before to do with the use of contractions. A character who always sounds articulate and in use of an extensive vocabulary doesn't always have to be this way. Of course, they shouldn't break character, but if they're in a heavily-emotive situation where they don't have time to properly think out what they're saying, they're not going to speak as if they're reciting the Bible. There's nothing wrong with posh, well-spoken characters. It's just a matter of knowing how to diversify their own speech and having the confidence to explore other sides to their character through their dialogue.

This also goes for other characterisation decisions. You have a quiet character who speaks little, in small utterances? I love those character types! But don't limit their expression and characterisation by seeing that as the only thing they can do. An excited, wonderous character who asks a lot of questions and uses exclamatives often can have their quiet moments. An angry, usually violent character can become soft-spoken.

In fact, I'd say these changes in dialogue can really uplevel stories and characters. When a character changes their usual dialogue quirks (when the plot/scene calls for it), it can mark an incredibly pivotal and key point in their development and personality.

E.g, a rich, high-status character having a meltdown, swearing and mixing up their words; a quiet character talking for a long time to console their best friend on something they relate to; the excited character finally losing their spark and becoming serious when upset; an angry, violent character becoming docile when interacting or confessing to their crush. Choices in dialogue styles for different characters, depending on scenes and situations, can change the game entirely.

-

Overall, my advice in creating realistic, engaging and in-character dialogue that shows your character's distinct personality and characteristics is to read the dialogue out loud, don't bother too much about grammar and more about readability and get a proofreader or friend that'll be honest in their opinions to look over your story.

Even more, I'd highly recommend experimenting. This goes for everything in writing, honestly. Practise writing dialogue by writing conversations between your different characters, even if said conversations won't appear in your story. Practice writing scenes. Experiment with your style and how different characters talk. Lay out your characters personalities and think about how you can implement details into their speech that subtly show who they are and what they think. Consider punctuation - it matters more than you'd expect it to.

Grow your style at your own pace. Listen to constructive feedback, and openly search for people to show their opinions and give advice on your work. Make sure you understand your characters, their values and their quirks.

And, most importantly, have fun!

[buildarocketboys]

Just a couple of notes from things I've highlighted in Frankenstein chapters 4-8:

Chapter 4:

The astonishment which I had at first experienced on this discovery soon gave place to delight and rapture. After so much time spent in painful labour, to arrive at once at the summit of my desires was the most gratifying consummation of my toils.

I think the use of the phrasing "painful labour" is super interesting here - obviously labour can just refer to work, but the double meaning of giving birth, coupled with the description of it being "painful" definitely implies Frankenstein "giving birth" to his creation. Shame he's a terrible father.

Talking of Frankenstein being a terrible father...

No one can conceive the variety of feelings which bore me onwards, like a hurricane, in the first enthusiasm of success. Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world. A new species would bless me as its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would owe their being to me. No father could claim the gratitude of his child so completely as I should deserve theirs.

The idea that the species (thinking big there, Victor!) will and should be grateful to him just for being the cause of their existence is uh..very interesting. I think the fact that Victor is a man is very pertinent here, since women are expected to give birth to new life, but since Victor is a man, him creating life is a big and amazing thing the species should be grateful for. Even if you're a deadbeat dad.

(for whatever reason I didn't highlight anything in chapter 5 or chapter 6 even though they're pretty fucking important)

Chapter 7:

“Come, Victor; not brooding thoughts of vengeance against the assassin, but with feelings of peace and gentleness, that will heal, instead of festering, the wounds of our minds. Enter the house of mourning, my friend, but with kindness and affection for those who love you, and not with hatred for your enemies.

I just think Frankenstein should listen to the wisdom of his father, who's actually a parent. He knows what he's talking about.

I considered the being whom I had cast among mankind, and endowed with the will and power to effect purposes of horror, such as the deed which he had now done, nearly in the light of my own vampire, my own spirit let loose from the grave, and forced to destroy all that was dear to me

I thought the use of vampire was interesting here - I had a quick Google and in fact, Frankenstein was published a year before the book considered the first vampire story - The Vampyre by John William Polidori. However, The Vampyre was based on a story Lord Byron told as part of the same contest in which Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein. Anyway, previously to the popularity of the vampire novel, vampire basically just meant a dangerous spiritual entity that people believed could appear at rituals for the dead. So essentially a synonym for spirit, but specifically bad/dangerous/evil. Idk I could probably have some more coherent thoughts about this if I tried but it's just... interesting

Chapter 8:

The tortures of the accused did not equal mine; she was sustained by innocence, but the fangs of remorse tore my bosom and would not forgo their hold.

I mean like, I get what he's saying here, but he really does sound like a massive twat. Like, poor Justine is facing execution for a crime she didn't commit, and that you know she didn't commit, and you're all like "boo hoo I feel even WORSE than her because it's MY FAULT!" like maybe if you didn't immediately abandon the child you'd made because he was kinda creepy looking then none of this would have happened. My sympathy is limited for you here, Vicky boy.

Anyway, that's where I'm at for now @tumbleclub! It's fun to reread this after so long. Looking forward to the creature's chapters.. 👀👀

[randonauticrap]

A Letter to Myself ~ Chapter 1

Series Description: A 1st person POV Isekai Ikemen Prince adventure told by me, your narrator. Not all true stories are believable, and not all true stories are real. I have changed my name and the names of anyone who inspired these characters.

Chapter Description: Liliana goes to sleep after another disappointing experience with love, and wakes up inside a very strange dream.

Chapter Title: Dream Truths

Triggers: Negative self talk; vague mention of fatphobia

There are few things in this world I love more than singing, sleeping, and daydreaming. They’re the three things that can always reset my anxious mind, and push out all forms of mental clutter, if only long enough for me to focus on the task at hand. That particular evening, the task at hand was wishing that my situationship (who, after I admitted I had feelings for earlier that day, told me he didn’t actually feel that way about me, and saw me only as a friend) had instead been one of the dashing princes in my favorite otome game. I think everyone could agree that they would never. But the quiet of the night threatened to envelop me nonetheless; this wasn’t the first time I’ve been fooled by pretty words and flirtatious kindness. It wasn’t even the second or third, and I’ve begun to wonder who the real problem is. Am I simply misinterpreting this behavior? Was my perception truly that terrible? I didn’t think so, since I could usually nail down just about anyone I met: what their struggles were, why they acted the way they did, and so on and so forth. In fact, it was one of the things I was known for in my friend circles - being a mind reader. 

But for some reason, when love was involved, my radar was off; or broken; or just flat out missing altogether. It was something I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember; to be loved the way I love, but fate seemed to stand against me in that regard. What if I just wasn't meant to have my own love story? My heart clenched at the thought that plagued me over and over. It was no mystery that my body type was not one that was so popularly celebrated in many circles, and I'd experienced my fair share of backlash over it through the years. And while, thankfully, many women in this day and age were standing up and speaking out about it, I still received far too many judgmental eyes on me when I dared to eat in public; didn't matter if it was 4pm and it was the first thing I'd eaten since I woke up at 7am. 

So it should come as no surprise that the little voice in my head - that damn goblin - often added "overweight" to the list of qualities that left men… wanting, in regards to myself. But the laundry list was miles long by now, and not even the newest Whirlpool could scrub it clean. Besides, who could afford that much laundry detergent? Certainly not me. Not in this economy. 

Usually, I could stir up some comforting scenario with the handsome first prince and lull myself to sleep in his imaginary arms, but the trick wasn't working tonight. God, of course it wasn't. I had to be up in around 4 hours to go to rehearsal, and sleep had been evading me almost as much as men did. "Is sleep a man?" I pondered aloud to my quiet bedroom. "Would make a hell of a lot of sense." I grumbled under my breath as I reached for the Melatonin gummies on my nightstand. I popped two in my mouth and chewed begrudgingly until the almost-fruit tang flavor was gone from my mouth, then let my head fall unceremoniously back onto my pillow with a dull thud. 

Now my neck hurts. Of course it does.

I tossed and turned for awhile longer, praying the Melatonin would do its work, and at last, I felt the gentle tug of sleep calling the deep recesses of my brain. Thank God, now I can go see Jin. It was the last coherent thought I had before diving under, my subconscious brain taking over, my desires in tow. 

…

…..

…….

Birds. 

I was hearing birds. Is this a dream? Those birds don't sound like the birds outside my window normally do. Those sound like… what the hell is that? A weed wacker? It isn't Friday. Is it? This has to be a dream, there's no way I missed two days; I've slept for long periods of time, but never 48 hours straight, long. That's like, coma long. God, I hope I haven't peed the bed. 

I cracked one eye open slowly, noting the lack of crust around it. Thank God, I'm finally re-hydrated. I'd been dehydrated for pretty much my entire life, through no one's fault but my own, and I'd always wanted to be one of those girls who could tote around a cute water bottle the size of a milk jug and drink it all in one day. But alas, God had other plans when he made me. Maybe he was distracted, I don't know. But I had been trying to take better care of myself lately, so I guess it finally paid off! Hopefully this means no more headaches, and-

I opened my other eye to stare up at my ceiling. I wonder what ti- wait. "M'kaaaay, maybe I do have eye crust." I mumbled, rubbing my eyes with my index fingers. Cause that's not my ceiling. Have I gone blind? Oh God, am I blind?

I opened my eyes again and flicked my gaze around the room quickly. Okay, not blind. A relieved sigh petered out of my lungs, but it only lasted a second before I cast my eyes around the room again, in earnest this time. This is not my room. My head swiveled left; right; left again. Okay, so I'm dreaming. Damn it, I probably still have eye crust. I shook my head in disappointment as I sat up in bed. The room I was in was small; tiny, even in comparison to mine, which was saying something. There was a single painting on the wall perpendicular to my right, hung precariously on the dusty beige wall. It looked like a lush green forest with a river running through the center. Pretty. 

My eyes continued their journey right and landed on a small, rustic looking side table with an oil lamp on it, along with a well-worn book. On impulse, I picked up the book and stroked its spine while I read the words on the cover. "Liliana's Adventures" Funny. That's my name. Could my brain really not come up with anything better than this for a title? Jeez, and I call myself a writer. A sound between a scoff and a laugh escaped my lips as I set the book back down on the side table and turned my head to the left. 

There was a small table with two rickety wooden chairs and what looked like a sewing project neatly folded on the tabletop. Okay, is my brain trying to tell me to pick up a new hobby or something, or did I watch too much Lord of the Rings last night? I noticed that there was a simple mirror on the wall across from me that reflected the bland beige wall above my head, the door to the tiny room, and a single window, notched in the downward slope of the ceiling to my left. I didn't understand. Why did my subconscious bring me here of all places? And where even is here? I mean, it has to be a dream. I just "woke up" and the inside of my mouth doesn't even feel gross, and there's no way that's real. 

I pulled myself out of the small, stiff bed and padded over to the window, my feet bare on the chilly wooden panels. The most beautiful garden I had ever seen in my life sprawled out before my eyes way down below. Bursts of yellow, white, pink, and red lined a maze of pathways through the middle, and showcased the gorgeous flowers in bloom. Most of them looked like roses. Wow… now I understand the weed wacker. 

I could get lost tracing each walkway with my eyes, and apparently I did, because I didn't hear the angry footsteps stomping up to the door of my room until it burst open and an irate woman screeched through it. "Leisel, quit your dawdling, we are due in the kitchen in five minutes!" The door slammed shut just as suddenly as it had opened and I jumped hard, nearly knocking my head on the sloped ceiling in the process.  "Who the hell is Leisel?"

~

Tags for the Lovelies: @aquagirl1978 @rhodolitesroseforclavis @ikehoe @queengiuliettafirstlady @maries-gallery @nightghoul381 @judejazza @xbalayage @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @alvieeru @aria-chikage @tele86

[whoahoney]

glassy eyes, hazy afternoons pt. 5

Eddie Munson x anxious!stoner!Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: Y/n and Eddie pick up where they left off on Saturday night with another late night rooftop smoke session, complete with stories, shared joints, and mutual pining.

Content Warnings: descriptions/mentions of alcohol/drug abuse, recreational use of drugs, adult language, descriptions/mentions of traumatic childhood memories, fluff, a dashling of angst, mutual pining, descriptions of anxiety and depression, intrusive thoughts, & Eddie’s pervy thoughts

A/N: Thank you all SO much for all the love on my fics this lately, I cannot express to you how every single note makes me feel when I check my phone 🥺 You guys have made me more confident in my writing and I wouldn’t be diving back into this if it weren’t for your uplifting response. 🥹🤍

I hope y’all like a slow burn 😌 I want them to kiss so bad but just you wait 😏 this picks up where part 4 left off! Reader finally remembers to call Chrissy, thank god. Don’t mind me healing my daddy issues through Reader and Johnny, it’s fine.

Also, should I make a playlist for this series? 🧐 let me know!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/n and Johnny decided on lasagna for dinner that evening. The pair stood next to each other as they alternated the uncooked pasta with ricotta and meat sauce. Y/n’s stereo played at a louder volume, Led Zeppelin’s Good Times, Bad Times had both of them swaying to the beat.

Johnny’s usually stoic disposition masked his content smile, though it stretched when he noticed they were dancing in sync, swinging their hips side to side. “You’re alright, kiddo.” He said fondly, his heart swelling with pride looking down at her. Johnny felt the same way about both of his children; his love was no different for either one of them despite their differences, but he had always struggled with expression.

‘I love you’ was hard for him when he was small and lived with his parents, it was still uncomfortable when he met their mother, but when he met them both he couldn't help but only think ‘I love you’

He was convinced he’d never experienced real love until he became a father. Sam made him get himself together and Y/n encouraged him to keep going. Now that he had the both of them almost grown, he still found it hard to express it verbally.

But his kids knew exactly what he meant when he covered them up on cold evenings in front of the television, when he brought home the movies they had been talking about, when Y/n faked sick to get out of school and take mental health days, when his son turned into a shell of himself the day he got his heart broken, his efforts didn’t go unnoticed, not once.

Johnny was there for Sam that night, finding him quietly sobbing in the garage with a bottle of whiskey. Instead of scolding him for the alcohol and berating him for the tears, he held his son and took him to bed with a glass of cold water, sitting with him and talking about everything Sam needed to until he fell asleep.

Y/n hadn’t needed Johnny in a moment of crisis, but she knew she could go to him if she needed to, though she fought the constant internal battle of feeling like a burden. Her dad had held her hand every morning at elementary school drop off, until his kids started riding the bus in middle school— that’s when Sam would give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before they parted ways in the morning.

From time to time her dad will still reach over and give her hand a squeeze, which she’d return as an ‘I love you too’ whenever the affection occurred.

Y/n and Johnny watched the Dukes of Hazzard as they grazed their plates that rested on the TV trays in the living room. They had all of the windows open, the breeze trickling in and tousling the curtains gently.

She noticed the gradient of blue to pink the sky reflected this evening and ached to get outside. After wiping her mouth with her napkin, she stood from her seat and excused herself for a walk outside. Y/n admired the sky in every state it lived in, though sunsets were in her top two.

She observed how the trees in the distances stretched up to scrape the sky, prickling at the satin sweep. Y/n loved to get high and watch the sun disappear and see day fade to night, which is exactly what she did, high up on a branch along the tree line separating Piney Oak and Forest Hills.

She admired the periwinkle clouds that bounced pink reflections across the endless fields of cotton. She wondered for a moment what it’d feel like to lay on a fluffy cloud and decided it’d probably feel like a water bed or a pool floatie.

Johnny stood at the window and looked out onto the porch, watching how his daughter sat on the step with her hands folded under her chin, content with the view in front of her. He smiled and scrubbed harder at the casserole dish.

Y/n wound up back in her room for the evening, the day subsiding to deep blue outside and her room glowing orange with light. She dug around in her backpack for the slip of paper Chrissy gave her Friday.

She grabbed the yellow rotary phone and set it in front of her on the bed with a clank. It’d been a long time since she’d phoned a friend, let alone a new friend.

‘She’s just gonna ask about Eddie, it’s what girls do.’ Y/n thought.

‘What if she makes fun of me? People in her group seem to dislike him, what if she just wants me to tell her things about him she can use to embarrass him?’

‘Chrissy’s too nice, if anything she’d want to help me work up the nerve to do something about these weird feelings.’

Y/n shook her spiralling head and started dialing the number. It wasn’t long before Chrissy picked up, her cheery “Hello” ringing through the receiver. “Hey, it’s Y/n! Is now a good time?” She asked.

“Y/n! Oh, is it ever! We need to talk about you and Eddie, we’ve gotta make it happen.” She gushed. Y/n rolled her eyes playfully, fidgeting with the chord. “You were telling me about how you guys ended up at your house and then fell asleep?! In your bed?!” Chrissy whispered urgently into the mouthpiece of her pink phone knowing her mother would flip if she knew Chrissy had a friend who’s engaged in such activities.

“Yes, but it wasn’t as crazy as it sounds! We looked at the moon and talked on the roof for a while, and— I don’t know, sometimes we stop talking but it doesn’t feel weird, like I don’t feel the need to fill the air space, and he looks at me like… I don’t know,”

“Like he wants you to do something??”

“Ugh, maybe. I just wish I had the guts to.” She said, reaching over beside her and shoving her bedside window open to light a cigarette before she started a joint.

“So you are willing to admit you like him? Ugh, finally! When you get married please don’t forget to let me make a speech about how I got you two together!”

“Oh yeah, so you can tell my closest friends and family the story of how I hit up the head cheerleader to direct me to the nearest drug dealer that just so happens to theoretically turn out to be my groom? Love it.” Y/n scoffed before exhaling a plume of smoke out the window. The glowing blue lense over the outdoors sank into black, the only lights coming from orange glowing windows or street lights.

Chrissy cackled, “It’s the perfect story. Your kids are gonna love it! And if you have a daughter you gotta name her Chrissy!”

Y/n shook her head , “And If it’s a boy?”

“Easy, Christopher.” Chrissy said with a shrug of her shoulder and laughed with her friend on the other end. “You know… I’ve always thought that friend of his was real cute. What’s his name? Garrett? Jareth?”

“Gareth?!”

“Yes! With the fluffy, pretty hair. Ugh. I catch him looking at me like a lovesick puppy in every class I have with him and it takes everything in me not to wink at him.” She swooned.

“Chrissy!” Y/n hissed in a shocked whisper. “What about Jason?” She asked lowly.

Chrissy sighed, “I’ve known Jason for a really, really long time. Like, our parents grew up together, we’ve grown up together, and it’s like we’ve been expected to end up together since we were kids. And for a while it felt right, I had the biggest crush on him for years. But now Jason is just like his dad, you know? He acts so above everything, and he doesn’t even care about half the things I think or say… I think I’m just a part of some checklist, honestly. But I know one thing for sure and it’s that Jason has never looked at me the way Gareth does.” She sighed dreamily.

“Chrissy, if you’re not happy with Jason, then you should break it off. Other people's emotions aren’t your responsibility! So what if Jason gets butthurt? He has it coming! Maybe it’ll humble him.” Y/n suggested and then took a couple more drags on her cigarette before lighting a joint with the lit end of the cancer stick between her lips.

“True, but I’m more worried about my parents. My mother, specifically.” Chrissy said in a slow and careful whisper, which told Y/n Chrissy didn’t feel safe to speak on her own line as freely as she should. “I gotcha, maybe we can elaborate on that some other time?” Y/n asked carefully.

Chrissy sighed in relief, “That sounds nice! Thank you, Y/n/n. It’s nice to have a friend I don’t have to… hide parts of myself from.” She whispered.

“Me too, Chris.” Y/n smiled, her chest warming. “I feel like you’re gonna be a friend I have for a long time, you know what I mean? When the rest fall away after high school.” Chrissy said.

Y/n’s heart leapt, “Aw, thanks, Chris. I-I think our friendship is gonna be a lasting one too,” She nodded though her friend couldn’t see her and took another drag, “But, if you don’t name your kid after me, we’re history.” She joked, laughing when she heard Chrissy’s cackle over the receiver. “Of course I will! I hope Eddie’s ready for me to infiltrate his life as his best friend's girlfriend and his girlfriend's best friend, or whoever your future husband is.” Chrissy jokes, Y/n giving weak laughter in return while a snap resounded from the backyard through her open window.

She decided to shrug it off, not used to all the animals that roam around here at night quite yet. “Hopefully the future husband is on board with Christopher, or else it isn’t gonna work.”

“Who’s Christopher?” A voice asked from outside. Y/n gasped, raising the phone in her hand and poised to strike when she realized it was none other than the lovable figure of Eddie Munson leaning up against the side of her house with a cigarette between his lips.

“Y/n/n? Y/n! Is everything okay?” Chrissy shouted over the receiver, as Y/n collected her breath and burned red in the face with embarrassment. “Uh, yeah, I, uh forgot Eddie was stopping by, I’ll… talk to you tomorrow, kayloveyoubye.” Y/n quietly rushed out before hanging up the phone and turning her attention to Eddie.

He stood leaning up against the windowsill, his chin resting on his hands patiently. “Did I scare you, sweetheart?” He raised his eyebrows and nodded to the joint in her hand, a silent request for her to pass it to him which she obliged and took his cigarette to puff on in return.

Eddie stepped back to keep the smoke away from the interior of her room, shoving his other hand in his jeans pocket for warmth on the crisp night. “Oh me? Haven’t you noticed my nerves of steel yet, Munson?” She asked.

He smirked as he took another hit from the joint, “So, uh, who’s Christopher— Is it Christopher Lacey from the swim team? Who’s your future husband??” He asked in an eager rush, as if he were excited for her, though really he was bursting to get the question out as soon as he overheard her phone conversation. Y/n’s eyes flashed embarrassment, “No, no, I was—Chrissy told me to name my future kid after her and I told her I hoped my future husband was on board with it.” She shrugged, playing it off as no big deal when inside she was experiencing heart palpitations.

“Oh, well who’s your future husband? Not Christopher Lacey I presume?” He nodded to the joint he held out in front of her lips as she leaned her head further out. Y/n rolled her eyes playfully before closing them as she took a drag. Eddie’s stomach twisted when she went for it without hesitation, his shy girl was getting comfortable with him.

He wanted to know what it was like to run his hand down her neck, only stopping to squeeze his hand around her throat just a little, her neck too delicate for unnecessary roughness. He wanted to slip the straps of her tank top down her shoulders and pull the middle apart so she’d be left bare, but then reminded himself she was an ethereal being and not his to touch or objectify, then he felt icky.

‘Stop, you fucking perv. What are you, 12?’ He scolded.

Y/n inhaled and exhaled, smiling and shaking her head. “Uhh, Matt Dillon? I guess?”

Eddie scoffed and shook his head, “Matt Dillon, are you kidding me? That Neanderthal?!”

“Wha- He’s pretty! He’s so pretty, why do you have to dig at him like that??” Y/n defended with her voice raising an octave and embarrassed laughter spilling out in between.

“Is it cause of the Outsiders? Nah, cause if it was, you would’ve picked Rob Lowe… surely..” He trailed off as though he were thinking aloud, biting his thumbnail in contemplation as realization struck, “Of course you picked Matt freakin’ Dillon. You like the bad boy, the one everyone says ‘stay away’ from, huh? Tell me, did you bring home a lot of strays growing up?” He asked, amusement dancing behind his eyes as he watched her sit there and puff on the cigarette he brought and giggle madly, shaking her head in her defense with no words to back it up.

“You must think I’m pretty damn good lookin’, huh?” He smiled, his eyes glittering in the way only his could. Y/n bit her lip and shoved the window all the way open and leaned out on her elbows, her cleavage heavily accentuated as she towered over him the way he typically did her.

“What are you doing here?” She asked quietly, excitement exuding from her eyes in the form of a glint. Eddie’s mouth twitched into a smile when she didn’t deny it.

“Well, I was partaking in my nightly smoke, but sadly my view of the sky wasn’t as satisfactory as yours is. Thought maybe we could hang out and look together.” He shrugged, suddenly nervous.

‘Maybe this was a bad idea.’

Y/n grinned and bit her bottom lip, watching him fidget while he waited for her to answer. “I’d love that.” She said simply and took a drag from the joint, feeling the familiar warmth and buzz from the nicotine and herb.

Eddie’s eyes brightened, his normal goofy smile returning to his face. She ducked her head back inside to pull on a hoodie and grab her stoner bag before threading her legs through the window and hopping out. His eyes stayed on her as she moved and flipped her hair back over from where it had fallen over her face.

She’d insisted he go ahead of her up the tree, watching his careful movements and gingham boxers made her smile. When he stepped onto the shingles, he bowed to her with a cocky grin. “Very nice, I give it a ten out of ten for the graceful dismount.” She commended.

Eddie squatted down, readying his hands to catch the bag she held in her hands. Y/n threw the bag up to him, smiling when he caught it with ease and finding her grasp on the tree. “Y’know with skills like those, you should definitely try out for the basketball team.” She teased on her way up to the limb that acted as their bridge.

Eddie scoffed, “Oh yeah, because my true passion lies on the court, sweetheart.” His eyes never left her as she crawled across the limb and stood with a waiting hand, which she accepted. “There you are.” He whispered, lingering too closely to be considered friendly.

“Here I am.” She confirmed, looking from his shining brown eyes to his lips, and feeling his light breath fan across her face. He smiled and pushed some hair behind her ear before turning carefully to sit where they did previously.

“Y’know if I was a basketball player, you’d have to be a cheerleader?” He asked and looked over his shoulder at her for her reaction, still holding her hand. “W-Why?” She stammered, not understanding. “Cause it’s fair!” He shrugged as if that made sense.

“Pfft, I have no business jumping around or shaking pom poms.” She scoffed and set her now burnt out joint back between her lips to relight. Eddie rolled his eyes, the thought in his head unbearable. How he’d love to see her in that uniform, even if it was just for fun.

‘Maybe someday I can see her in Chrissy’s…’

“If I’m on the basketball team, you’re a cheerleader, it just makes sense!” Eddie reasoned and patted the spot next to him. Y/n sat down scooting closer to Eddie. She held out the joint for him to take, though it was too short for him to grasp. Instead he leaned his head over and took a drag, his lips brushing her fingers in a light kiss as he sucked.

The tingles crawled up her arm as he sat there inhaling slowly, her eyes trained on his profile and feeling his fingers take hold of her wrist under the guise of holding her steady, as always.

Eddie pushed her hand back towards herself to take a hit, though she decided against it and stubbed it out on the shingle. “So, you think my view tops yours? Over at Forest Hills?” She asked, nudging his arm with hers and taking the bag from his lap, which made him jump.

“Oh, absolutely.” He said, his eyes trained on his favorite view; his dream girl under the moon.

‘Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night and wouldn’t you love to love her..’

Stevie ran through his head as he looked at the girl lighting up next to him; shielding the small dancing flame from the breeze with her hand, wind swirling around her tresses and carried them gently to and fro. She ran a careful hand to tuck them behind her ears and handed over the new joint.

“Y’know, sometime I’ll have to show you mine—the top of the trailer, I mean. It isn’t as high up as this but it’s still one of my favorite places.” He shrugged and took a hit.

“What are your other favorite places?” She asked, leaning her head over on the brick to look at him. “There’s this spot out by the quarry that’s really nice in the spring and summer months, there’s flowers all around the water, everything’s green, birds are always talking to each other, and there’s this perfect tree…it’s almost magical looking, really.” His eyes projected excitement and wonder as he talked about his special place.

“It does sound magical… D-Do you ever take anyone out there?” She asked, her eyes on the joint between his lips. Eddie caught her glance and handed it back to her. She reached out to take it from him, but not before he could jerk it out of reach. Y/n looked to him with wide eyes, suddenly feeling the last wave of warmth roll over her, her previous tokes catching up to her.

Eddie smiled playfully and held it back out to her closer to her mouth. Y/n looked to Eddie for confirmation and noticed the hungry look returning to his eye as he nodded for her to lean in.

Y/n obliged him, letting her eyes flutter shut as she took a slow drag. Eddie watched the thick hem of lashes that framed her eyes and then traced his gaze down to her puckered lips. He resisted the urge to yank the joint away and crash his lips upon hers and absolutely wreck her quiet demeanor.

But he didn’t. Instead, he admired the way she looked at him when she opened her eyes, smiling around the filter when she noticed how intensely he was admiring her. “I, uh, I haven’t taken anyone out there before, but I think I will soon… if you’d want to see it.” He mumbled nervously. Y/n gasped in intrigue before she exhaled, the excitement draining from her face as the building, fluttery pressure swelled up in her chest and throat.

Eddie knew exactly what was going to happen and couldn’t help but laugh as he watched her eyes get wider than he’d ever seen. As she leaned over to the other side in a hacking fit, he fondly patted her back giggling innocently. “You got it, let it out.” He cooed, deriving joy from the contours of her back he could feel under his hand as he rested it there.

“My bad,” she squeaked as she recovered and wiped her face with her sleeves. “Can’t get off without the cough, right?” She said watching him take another drag. “I’m sorry, what?” Eddie asked in amused disbelief. “What? You’ve never heard that before?” She asked, looking almost offended. Eddie shrugged and shook his head. “Coughing helps you get high, something about your blood and oxygen circulation, makes it happen faster. I dunno, ‘s somethin’ our parents used to joke about. Sam told me what it meant back when we started smoking together, so it’s kind of like one useful thing we learned from her.” She laughed and rolled her puffy pink eyes.

Eddie gave a weak laugh at her dark humor, something he wasn’t unfamiliar with, something he typically enjoyed, but it was then he remembered where they left off in conversation before their evening was interrupted last Saturday.

“I hear that, my old man taught me how to hotwire a car when I was eleven.” he chuckled, bringing the joint to his lips, the nostalgia playing behind his eyes. “You’re shitting me.” Y/n gaped, accepting the joint when he held it out to her. Eddie laughed at her surprise and shook his head, “If you ever lose car keys, let me know, I’ll get her started for ya.” He winked with a shoulder nudge that sent her smiling for him. Y/n scoffed and thanked him, taking a deep drag, her eyes closing for a second. ‘Like a butterfly closing its wings for a moment or two,’ Eddie noted, allowing himself a sinful glance down at her puckered lips and hollow cheeks.

“Our car died on us during an.. impromptu road trip,” he began before he could slip further into madness at her unknowing hands. “W-We walked to this motel off the highway, an-and found an unlocked door. The old man always had his tool bag, which had a lot more than tools in it by the way, but he showed me the needle nose pliers and cutters I needed, how to pry the paneling off, which wires to cut, which ones to cross, you know, father-son bonding things.” He shrugged nonchalantly, earning a laugh from her as she handed the joint back to him and reached out for his cigarette, which he gladly handed to her.

“It was probably one of the only good stories I have about him. And it’s only good cause—“ he stopped himself, noticing he was sliding into the same comfort he’d been chasing since they parted ways Sunday morning. Y/n looked at him with her eyelids heavy, her slightly raised brows told him she was invested in listening, concern laid on her face bare.

“Cause why?” She asked softly, watching his lips to catch the words in case he didn’t say them loud enough. He took a generous drag and sighed his exhale, “Cause he wasn’t… angry. Felt like we were on the same team for a night, you know? Felt like a real son, just for a minute. You know?” He asked, looking at her finally.

Y/n nodded, her heart swelling. “Yeah, yeah I do.” She chewed the inside of her cheek nervously, her mind drifting back to the story she never finished on Saturday, wondering if he’d remembered or cared. “D-Did you have any moments like that with your mom?” He asked, his eyes gentle and softer than before. His hand on her thigh sent a crawling warmth up her body, flushing her neck under the sweatshirt she wore.

Y/n stared at his hand for a minute, trying to decide if she was just feeling more movement than usual due to her high, but she observed as he rubbed small circles on the inside of her leg and waited patiently without knowing he was driving her wild.

“I—not to my knowledge.” She said quietly, trying to slow her fast paced thoughts, feeling guilty for the way she felt while he wanted to share vulnerabilities. Eddie stopped his movements to both her relief and dismay, “Oh,” he said lowly, his mouth agape and eyes hiding too many thoughts to comprehend, though at the very least she knew he was floundering inside.

“It’s okay, though. Maybe there’s a memory somewhere in here I’m not remembering right now.” She shrugged, trying to reassure him. Eddies face lifted a little, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Well if you think of any, let me know. I’d love to hear about them.”

Y/n nodded, laying her hand on his, “I will, I promise.”

“Or anything else that you feel like sharing, good or bad, past or present, whatever’s good for you.” He rushed, his nervousness evident by the tremble in his hand. Y/n flashed him a smile, “Does that have anything to do with the story I didn’t finish last time we were up here?” She asked quietly, leaning toward him a bit to hand him his cigarette back, fighting the urge to put it between his lips for him.

Eddie’s facade melted immediately, only leaving a shy smile. “Ah, you got me.” He shrugged, taking a drag as she nodded, “Only if you want to finish it, don’t feel like you have to. But I can’t say I haven’t been thinking about it.” He revealed, her heart leaping in response. He was thinking about her unfinished story for days.

Y/n nodded reassuring him this time, “I can tell you, it’s not a problem, it can just be kind of embarrassing. The way things were, the story itself, so much of my life.” She rolled her eyes, trying to shake the uncomfortable feeling off her back so she could tell him the story of the last time she saw her mother.

“I didn’t get very far, did I?” She forced a laugh, rubbing her hands on her jeans to dry the moisture that started to prickle at her palms. Eddie’s hand found hers again, the stillness of the air allowed the faint sounds of her stereo to filter up to the roof, where they sat under the moon, Tuesday's Gone by Lynyrd Skynyrd played.

“You mentioned a ‘Tina’?” He asked casually, picking her hand up carefully and placing it in his own, thankful to the marijuana gods for this strain that calmed them so. “Oh, yeah. Her.” She chuckled dryly, keeping her focus on their intertwined hands.

Eddie noticed her breath quicken a bit at the act, a satisfied grin threatened to work its way onto his face though he kept it at bay by nodding at her to continue. “Tina was best friends with my mom. She was insufferably loud, by the way,”

“Tinas can be that way.” He shrugged, easing her back into relaxation, hoping he can use this time to show her how willing he is to listen to her life, how eager he is to comfort her if she needs it. Y/n chuckled and scooted closer to Eddie, her anxiety lifted like shrugging a jacket off your shoulders.

“So, my mom and Tina would sit around and get high all day, and Sam and I, we were in the back room with the other kids— back then that felt fun, does that one count? As one of those good memories? Anyway, we got to eat junk and watch whatever we wanted on tv all day as long as we stayed quiet and in the room… I can still smell the ammonia and cigarettes sometimes…” she trailed off with a sigh, looking to Eddie to see if he cared to hear more of the embarrassingly depressing story of her life. He nodded, his eyes soft and his hand stroking the skin of her palm.

“This time in particular, we climbed over the baby gate and tried to sneak to the bathroom because we hadn’t been checked on in forever. But I was so scared. The adults were always so shitty if we left the room, let alone made any other mistakes… Y’know like kids do,” She chuckled bitterly before continuing, “I couldn’t make it to the bathroom,” her laughter continued as tears formed on her waterline, the memory playing behind her eyes, though her voice didn’t waver. If he weren’t looking at her he would have no idea she was on the verge of tears.

“A guy was passed out inside against the door, and while Sam was trying to shove it open… I couldn’t hold it anymore. The floor was soaked, I was soaked, and Sam was so upset. But he never made me feel bad about it, not once.” She sniffled, Her face not visible because of the curtain of hair that now hung between them. “And I can’t tell you how many spankings he took because he ‘wasn’t watching’ me, as if it was his job! Isn’t that wild?” She asked in a faint half sniffling half giggly haze.

“Then our mom found us cause Sam couldn’t get me to stop crying. She was so pissed.. unbelievably pissed—and embarrassed. That’s something she kept telling me over and over was how much of a baby I was and all that shit.” She rolled her eyes and wiped her face. Eddie kept his eyes trained on her carefully, his tongue poised to intervene and tell her to stop.

“Dad ended up catching her when she tried to get us home and clean us up before he was supposed to get off work. But when no one answered the phone all day he came home early, so, that… sucked.”

Eddie felt like he’d been punched in the gut, seeing her so comfortably numb to her hurt, a weeping callous never healed properly.

“She was trying to convince him he was being crazy and irrational, but he insisted he wanted to talk to me and Sam, so when it came my turn, he asked me how many times I got taken to the bathroom that day and I didn’t know what to say cause the answer was none.” She acted annoyed with herself to Eddie’s dismay, his brow knitting together in disapproval.

“Then he asked if anyone ever hit me over there, and I knew the answer to that one, so I said yes, which my mom overheard and freaked out about, calling me a liar, and a lot of.. other things.” She trailed off, taking the joint from Eddie as he put out the cigarette they shared on a shingle, tossing it off the side of the house.

“They had their fight and got their licks in, then Sam took me to our room and turned some Heart on the Walkman before it got out of hand—full blast I might add. Gave me his headphones and told me ‘Just sit here and stay quiet for a little while, I’ll go find a snack.” She smiled at her brother's kindness.

She took a drag, tear tracks kissing her bottom lashes as she closed her eyes to center herself and savor the bitter taste. “She, uh, turned the whole situation on my dad, in the end. Talked about how he didn’t want to help her even though she was sick, yadayadayada..” she rushed, exhaling the toke fully before continuing. “So she claimed she was taking off to go ‘rest’ and ‘get better’ for a few weeks and then never came back.” She giggled bitterly, the story somehow humorous for her to tell, the ripples of her laughter extending into a full blown fit.

“Like, what the hell, right? Can you believe people actually do this shit?” She breathed, Eddie nodded, a small smile on his lips as he watched her, letting her react any way she needed to. “I-I’m sorry, Y/n. I hope already know this but none of it was your fault—the way she treated you guys.” He said softly, bringing her hand closer to his face and playing with her fingers, nodding assuringly as he spoke.

Y/n’s laughter had fizzled, Eddie’s words being the conclusion. “Y-Yeah. Yeah it wasn’t.” She said, though she knew it wasn’t her fault, she’d never had anyone try to make sure she didn’t believe it was. “Thank you for listening.. I didn’t mean to cry, I don’t know what that was.” She brushed it off.

Eddie brought his hands up to trace her tear stained cheeks, feeling braver the longer he sat with her. He angled her face up to his own, looking down at her with shining brown eyes that made her stomach flip.

“Eddie—“

“Don’t ever..” he said lowly and leaned in close—so close his nose touched her nose and her breath hitched, warmth flooding her core. Eddie's breath fanned across her mouth, her lips opened slightly like they were going to chase after his as if it were the only source of oxygen.

He looked into her eyes earnestly, “—ever, EVER, apologize for crying. Not in front of me, okay? I wanna be the last person you have to worry about impressing.” He whispered, trying to discern whether or not she was moving closer or if he was.

“I—okay. I won’t.” She mumbled, too high to figure out anything else to say the didn’t have to do with the burning desire she felt inside. “I think you’re…” his eyes searched the sky for the right word, second guessing whether or not now was the right time to do all of this.

“Everything.” He decided. The word shot right through her chest, the bricked layers of her heart shattering like dropped ceramic. “Everything?” She almost whimpered, looking for his eyes and holding his hand on her cheek. Eddie smiled and nodded, “Absolutely everything, sweetheart. The only person I can pour my soul out to and be unafraid. The only person I like sharing weed with. Hell, you’re the only person I wanna hang out with anymore.” He revealed, trailing his fingers down to her jaw that he traced with his thumb.

“I feel some pretty deep things for you, Y/n, I don’t know if that makes sense right now, but I do.” He said, his hands falling to his sides as his brown eyes bore into her. Y/n’s hand bravely grabbed his, putting it back next to her face. “I think you’re everything too, Eddie.” She managed in a whisper, leaning into his touch as he stroked her cheeks with more purpose, burying the rest of his hands in her hair.

She felt as though they were floating, as if time had stopped and they’d been transported back into their own little world again. Eddie’s breath caught, his lips parting in surprise. He resisted the urge to crash his lips against hers, and instead leaned forward slowly.

Y/n’s heavy lidded eyes watched his lips carefully, finally feeling brave enough to stand her ground as he began to pull her to him. Her body lit ablaze as she let herself melt into him.

“Y/n! Kiddo, you up there?” Her father called from her bedroom window, their eyes shooting open and bodies separating as if Johnny were already on the roof. “Uh, yeah! Just a sec.” She called.

“I-I, I’ll be right back, Sam probably called or something, I’m so sorry—“

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll be right here.” He whispered close to her face and held her wrist gently, giving her a reassuring squeeze as she turned to climb down.

Y/n’s heart hammered in her ears with each step down from the tree trunk, though she knew her old man didn’t suspect anything. “Hey, kid.” Her dad sat with a cigarette burning on the ashtray that rests on her windowsill. “Hey..” She approached the window, leaning against the house like Eddie had been not long ago.

“Just, uh wanted to say goodnight. I know I don’t always do that, so I thought I would tonight. Sooo… goodnight.” He nodded as though he was trying to remember a line and did with success. “Good night.” She nodded back, unsure if that was the end of the conversation or if he expected her to crawl through the window again. Instead Johnny smiled at her and stood up from the bed, taking the cigarette with him.

“Don’t stay out there too long, it’s getting colder at night time. The stars and the pot will still be here tomorrow.” He said before closing her door behind him. Y/n gaped at him, shouting a flustered, “Okay! No problem!” She backed up, noticing a head of curls perched just above her window, a satisfied Eddie smiling with a joint ready to be lit between his lips.

“Looks like we got the answer to our question.” He mumbled around the filter as Y/n laughed, thinking back to their conversation from earlier. “You, uh, wanna burn one more out so I can look at the stars longer or do you need to get to sleep?” Eddie asked as she climbed up the tree to be with him. “Well how could I say no to that?” She sighed contently, walking over to take her previous seat next to him.

When Eddie saw her figure up against the starry night sky he couldn’t help but think about her being his favorite star of them all as if she came from them and not this earthly plane.

She smiled at him, noticing his thousand yard stare and just chalking it up to his high sending him into a daze. “What are you thinking about?” She asked bravely. Eddie’s ears perked at her confidence and smiled. “Jus’ the stars.” He shrugged. Y/n snickered at his blushing cheeks. Eddie sparked the joint up and handed it over to Y/n, letting her have the first real drag.

Y/n took a slow and strong pull, hoping to cough enough she’d feel a tad bit more comfortable. She inhaled it through her nose, the thick cloud slithering out of her mouth and through her nostril, “Damn, okay.” Eddie said with an amused smile as she took a deep breath and broke into her coughing fit while he lit a cigarette. Once again he saw the opportunity to pat her back and comfort her. “You’re very brave, I admire you for that. I throw up if I cough too hard. But here you are, iron stomach and steel nerves and all. Are you a fuckin’ robot? Who are you really?” He rambled, the warm and fuzzy high mixed with love washed over him from head to toe.

Y/n’s coughs were interrupted with laughter, her lungs starved of oxygen, “Oh god..shut up—can’t breathe.” She managed through the laughter and focused on controlling her breath. “If I’m a robot, what are you?” She asked once she regained composure. “Easy, a clumsy hobbit and a raccoon in a trench coat.” He fired back with a smile. “A clumsy hobbit and a raccoon in a trench coat?? You’re not even wearing a trench coat, I’ve never even seen you wearing a trench coat.”

Eddie took a drag and shrugged, “Guess we’re just that good aren’t we?” He high-fived himself as Y/n broke into hysterics, causing him to break with her.

“Ah shit, you’re lookin’ a little blue, babe.” He chuckled, the pet name sending warm and fuzzy feelings to both her heart and her core, which made her shift in her spot uncomfortably as she forced out another chuckle. “Y’know one time—actually the first time Gareth and I smoked together, we were in the woods, behind my trailer, in the summertime, at night, mind you.” He started his hands already moving and eyes animated with the story.

“Basically, we were smoking out of a beer can, and I ask him, ‘This isn’t your first time smoking, right?’ and the kid says to me ‘Oh, no, I smoke all the time.’ and I think nothing about it. After the first hit he’s coughing like crazy, I think nothing about it, everyone coughs. But then we smoke about a gram, and it’s 2 in the morning, we’re drunk, we’re high, it’s still hot as hell outside, and he gets quiet on me right before I say we call it a night and crash in the house, when he looks at me nods, turns his head and—BLEH!” He exclaimed, his hands miming the projectile vomit he was describing from Gareth’s mouth. “Blows chunks everywhere,” he laughs, his eyes on the moon in front of them as he finishes the story as he relives it, “—takes three steps and falls over, knocked out cold.” He shakes his head. “I thought he died. I was terrified. I carried him in the house, got Wayne involved, but Gareth came to before I called the police on myself to get an ambulance out there. He gives me shit about ‘almost killing him’ all the time.” He laughed, settling back in his spot and took a drag of his cigarette before switching her for the joint.

“Holy fucking shit, I have to tell Chrissy about that, she’s gonna—“

“Why Chrissy?—Oh yeah, that’s who you were on the phone with earlier..” He cocked his head in confusion. “Yes! That’s who thought I was being murdered when you showed up at my window,” she chuckled as he made a face that imitated embarrassment and rubbed the back of his neck, “Oops.” He said quietly as she rolled her eyes playfully and nudged his shoulder with hers before continuing, “Anyway, we gotta play Cupid if she dumps Jason, cause Chrissy’s gotta crush on none other than the drummer of Corroded Coffin, himself.” She said with widened eyes for dramatic flair. Eddie gasped, practically shitting a brick, “I KNOW! But you gotta swear you won’t say anything to him or anyone else about it until after she’s ready to ask him out, okay?” She turned to him urgently, holding up her pinky for him to hook.

Eddie nodded without hesitation, wrapping his pinky around hers and kissing it, only thinking afterwards he hoped it went over okay with her. His eyes darted up to hers to gauge her reaction. Y/n smiled at their hands and then met Eddie’s gaze. “You wanna go hang out in my room? Listen to some music before I gotta go to bed?” She shrugged, playing with his rings absentmindedly.

“How can I say no to that?” He asked in response.

They quietly made their way into her bedroom, the blackness of night swallowed up by the closing of her lace curtains. Eddie entered first, standing by the window and helping Y/n through, squeezing her hand once before he let her go.

The look of an idea crossed Y/n’s face, “You wanna snack?” She whispered close to his ear. Eddie couldn’t deny his knees feeling weak as he nodded, “Yeah?” She asked with quiet excitement. “Would you wanna split a bowl of cereal?” She shrugged as she walked to her door and Eddie nodded, knowing he’d be ready to sharing anything with her; a joint, a cigarette, a drink, a meal, a bite, a piece of gum, his last breath if it kept her alive a second longer than him, maybe?

He sat on the end of her bed until she returned with a heaping bowl of Froot Loops, “Here, go ahead. ” She said in a whisper. He smiled, stepping out of his shoes and creeping over to her, his dark clothes contrasting beautifully with the glowing and homey oranges surrounding him as he took the bowl from her so she could lock the door as he took a big bite, sighing softly at the satisfying sweetness of the milk and cereal.

The gold knob on the dark wood door clicked softly. Eddie turned, watching her work at cozying the space and clearing off the nightstand and windowsill around her bed. Eddie smiled as he chewed when she brought out the blanket they took to the roof last, wondering if it still smelled like that night. He knew he wanted to live in the stale smoke and the scent of her perfume and laundry detergent forever.

“You wanna pick some music?” She asked as she spread the blanket across her bed and straightened her pillows. Eddie nodded, setting the bowl down on her nightstand and stepped over to the stereo, narrowing his eyes at the rows of titles in front of him. When she was satisfied with their space she joined him in his search. “I must say, I’m kinda in the mood for some Fleetwood Mac.” He retrieved the tape from its spot and grinned when he met her eyes, all puffy and tired looking behind the pink that contrasted so beautifully with her iris, the colors amplified in the warm light of her lamp.

“I love the way you think, Munson.” She smiled and took the tape from him, loading it into the deck and pressing play and adjusting the volume while Rhiannon trickled in.

“This one’s my favorite.” He sat down toward the end of her bed, more comfortably this time than last time. Y/n joined him, tossing him a couple pillows as she got under the blanket in the very corner opposite him. “Mine too.” She agreed, looking rather comfy, “Will you get the bowl, pretty please?” She asked quietly, contently. Eddie couldn’t help but smile, wondering what domestic bliss would feel like with her as he handed her the bowl.

They passed it back and forth between them for a little bit before finally getting shoulder to shoulder to pass only the spoon until they finished and split the milk. “At the rate we’re going we’re gonna get sick someday.” He joked as he set the empty bowl on the nightstand. “Then we just won’t share when we don’t feel good, simple.” She shrugged, settling in under her blanket, her thick fringe of eyelashes looking awful heavy now.

“You look pretty sleepy, sunshine.” Eddie teased softly as he leaned closer to her. She giggled and shook her head, “I’m not tired, my eyes are just heavy, there’s a difference.”

“Mmm, no, that’s what old people say right before they get in trouble for resting their eyes, you need to get to sleep.” He chuckled and bent over for his shoes. “No, no, stay for a little longer.” She urged in a whisper, one hand reaching for him as he turned around. He couldn’t resist the smile breaking across his face at the sight of her sleepy eyes. “Okay, just a little longer. You mind sparing some of this blanket though?” He nodded at the space next to her.

She smiled and opened up the blanket as an invitation for him to join her. He stealthily dove in, unable to resist pulling her close, his heart lurching when her hands found his shoulders while his arms found her waist. When he had the chance to overthink his decision he began to withdrawal, “Sorry, sweetheart—“

“Oh my god, Eddie, you’re freezing!” She exclaimed while taking his hands in hers and rubbing them and his arms the best she could and held them close to her without even thinking. Eddie thought he could keel over from their proximity and her touch alone, her mouth being close to his hands always did something to him.

“How’s this?” She asked, snatching him from his thoughts. “Th-That’s a lot better, thank you.” He mumbled, his eyes desperate to soak up every moment of her caring for him.

“Anytime.” She said, letting their hands rest between them on the bed, their fingers overlapping just the slightest though no one moved. “I think you might be the best friend I’ve ever had, Eddie.” She said, her eyes fluttering closed as she began to draw small circles on his knuckles with her finger.

Friend? The best of them all? Eddie smiled bitter sweetly at the girl in front of him. “I’m honored, Princess.” He whispered, matching her volume. “I wanna be the best friend you’ve ever had.” He whispered as he watched her breaths deepen, her jaw going slack and lips parting just the smallest bit, falling through the floor of consciousness and into sleep.

Eddie allowed himself a couple more minutes of soaking it all in, tracing the shapes of her face with his eyes, brushing a strand of hair off her face, trailing his fingers down her cheek softly and grinning when a faint smile crossed her face in her dream.

He sat up and retrieved his shoes as he tried to minutes before, slipping on the reeboks without lacing them. Eddie glanced down at her sleeping figure tucked under their blanket and smiled, wishing he could be there to tell her good morning.

He quietly walked over to her desk, spying a notepad and pencil cup to use at his disposal. He picked up the blank notepad and wrote quickly.

“Hope you sleep as soundly as you look like you are. Good night and good morning (: -E”

He nodded approvingly and set it on her nightstand next to her bed and eased across the end of her bed to open the window all the way for his escape. He tried to keep as quiet as possible so as to not wake the sleeping angel he was begrudgingly leaving.

As he stepped out into the unkept flower bed, the cold swarming him like a moth to a flame, he closed the window quietly. Giving her one last look, he pressed a kiss to his finger and stuck it to the glass where her head rested on the pillow. “See you tomorrow, friend.” He smiled half-heartedly and made the chilly trek home.

Part 6

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