#''Is that what you’ve been doing for the past month instead of posting anything or talking to anyone? Reading fucking Star Trek fanfic??''

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

I have decided to see how much I can learn about Star Trek: Deep Space 9 solely from fanfiction on AO3

#someone remind me to reblog this with the punchline if I forget tonight/tomorrow #''Is that what you’ve been doing for the past month instead of posting anything or talking to anyone? Reading fucking Star Trek fanfic??'' #ye it was that. gaining weight. embarrassing myself at work. getting called a faggot. and not being able to sleep. full schedule sorry. #''Do you even watch Star Trek??'' no that's the whole point of the experiment weren't you listening. pay attention.

[moonchild1]

min yoongi fic rec list (Ⅵ)

she's back bet you didn't think i'd post another list this quick but since they've been building so much i figured why not soooo this week is yoongs and next week with be taehyung i've been reading alot lately so i wanted to share them asap so before my week gets hectic again i thought i'd post it, i honestly loved these ones i am exploring a little bit for with certain genres and i must say it like a whole new world i'm enjoying it and i hope you like them too. remember too always show lots of love and support to these amazing writers they dedicated so much time to writing these fics and they are absolute geniuses and deserve the world for sharing them with us so please follow them and take a look at their masterlists cause i will 100% guarantee that you will find your very own favourites there as well, leave the a little comment i know they will appreciate it so much and send them all the love in the world... i will reblog these through out the week and as usual minors do not interact i will block those who do.... happy reading everyone see you next week with taehyung's list and if you have anything you would like to share with me or you just wanna ramble about a fic you loved my asks are always open i love hearing from you🖤✨

a- angst s- smut f- fluff

series

stalemate by @shina913 f s a

↬"The truth is, I'm not afraid to take that gamble anymore...in the off-chance that I get lucky again and feel the way I felt when I was with you. I'd happily make that bet over and over."

oh, my darling by @yoongiofmine f s a

↬ starting your second semester at one of South Korea’s most prestigious universities should be stressful enough. Between juggling classes, good grades and a social life, your plate was full. Hoping to spice up your academic career, you thought it was a good idea to enroll as an assistant for your literature professor, whom you've held a very secret and very forbidden crush on for the past several months. What will happen now that you’re forced to work closely together? And what if your crush isn’t as one sided as you thought?

little bit of your heart by @/yoongiofmine f s a ft. jjk

↬You had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with Min Yoongi. You knew you and Yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything Yoongi couldn’t. Will Jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten Yoongi enough to do something about it? 

sinful lust by @oddinary4bts s a ft. jjk

↬ in an attempt to spice up your bedroom life with your boyfriend Min Yoongi, you suggest bringing another man into the action. Yoongi seems reluctant at first, but when you mention his friend Jeon Jungkook, he can’t deny his attraction. All that’s left to do is to convince Jungkook into participating...

after hours by @archivedkookie f s a

↬ staying after hours with Yoongi for months proves to be a mistake when your heart falls for him.

Vows by @hamsterclaw f s a

↬ You're five years into your arranged marriage with Min Yoongi, and he's never once retaliated for anything you've done to him. One day you realise you've lost your appetite for provoking him, and you set about trying to win his heart instead.

sutures by @farfromsugafanfic f s a

↬ There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

and so it goes by @prodagustd f s a

↬ You and Yoongi have been hooking up, having dates and spending most of the week together for almost seven months. He was comfortable without a title, until the last two weeks, when you couldn't see him because of your busy schedule, Yoongi can't understand why he misses you so bad if your relationship is just sex to him. Or maybe he does, but he's too much of a coward to admit it.

collateral by @theharrowing f s a ft. jjk & knj

↬ Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

till death do us part by @colormepurplex2 s a

↬ Marital bliss isn't always a guarantee, especially when you find yourself marrying into the family responsible for your own family's demise. Sometimes, marriage is just a game of kill or be killed. Even when there is love involved, bullets still hurt.

grey area by @blushoseoks s a ft. jhs

↬ you spent the days staring at your wrist and tracing the skin where your soulmate’s name would one day appear. the nights were for telling your wrist about your day, as if the person whose name would one day stain itself there, like red wine to a dress, could possibly hear you. for years you thought up countless scenarios, imagined numerous possibilities, formulated conversations and rehearsed them over and over, until your mouth ran dry. outcomes and conclusions performed in your head on a repetitive loop. but out of everything you thought up, out of all of the time spent towards thinking about your soulmate, about what could possibly occur, none of it could ever prepare you for what would actually end up being. none of it ever came close to the way it happened when you finally met him. and now, after it’s all been said and done, you were left asking yourself one thing, and one thing only: “was it really worth all of this in the end?”

isn't it romantic by @jeonqkooks f s a

↬ Many things in life have a polar opposite: left and right, night and day, yin and yang, you and Min Yoongi... Hopeless romantic meets gloomy cynic. The only thing you seem to share is a magazine column but even then, you still can’t seem to understand how Yoongi can be called ‘The Love Doctor’ when he is the antithesis of everything love represents.

Flux by @yoonia f s a ft. jjk

↬ One of them is your longtime secret crush, while the other is the man with whom you had shared many heated nights filled with lust and forbidden desire, forever kept as your biggest secret of all time. You had sworn that those sinful nights would end, and that your secret crush would remain a secret. (poly au)

mean yoongi by @jjkpls f s

↬ Min Yoongi asks you to take care of his plants when he’s gone. It doesn’t go as planned and well, he has to deal with your misbehaving ass.

pretend by @gimmesumsuga s a

↬ “You know what they say: the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?” idol au infidelity

naughty little kitten by @jungkooksxo s a ft ksj

↬ Jin figures out that you’re super into the idea of Yoongi listening in on you two having sex. Yoongi is super into listening to you and Jin having sex. Jin invites Yoongi to come play with his naughty little kitten.

babydoll by @jungcock s a

↬ Your childhood crush, now famous and successful, comes to visit you while you’re drunk and have a lot to prove.

eleven months by @bratkook f s a

↬ it’s been years of yoongi living his routine life, accustomed to his pace of living, going with the flow and simply existing. until you come along. yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, but he weirdly craves it. craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what's coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. and maybe you can help with that.

pause by @whatifyoulivelikethat s a

↬ Life is like a cassette tape. It seems like it’s constantly repeating, flipped from side A to side B, and the songs can’t be skipped. You can only pause, rewind, fast forward, play after you’ve already heard the song. After you’ve already lived it. All Min Yoongi knows is his own tape, until it smashes right at his feet, and then he has to learn to dance to a different beat.

darksided by @eoieopda f s a

↬ It all started with a bad joke and a bottle of Tanqueray.

three squeezes by @nomnomsik s a ft jhs

↬ Yoongi is notorious for his grumpy and emotionless behavior as director of an upcoming company. Yet, it’s a mystery to everyone how manager Hoseok always seems to soften him up. The truth is that the two are actually engaged. Unknown to this fact, you happen to take an interest in Hoseok… and he does too. 

one-shot

bad decisions by @jjungkookislife f s

↬ Jimin is desperate to get his apartment back to himself. He’ll move hell and earth, and even drop to his knees to beg you to take his brother, Yoongi, out of his hands. Who are you to say no to that pretty face and sinister grin?  

breakfast in bed by @joonbird f s

↬ “Min Yoongi, a grumpy Ikea employee, is wondering who you are and why exactly you’re sleeping in the display bed at his Ikea.”

Tricks of the Trade by @stutterfly f s a

↬ The convenience store across the street from your apartment carries your favorite energy drink. That's why you frequent it. It's definitely not because you have a big fat crush on the owner you've been flirting with for the better part of a year. Of course your brand of flirting can also be misconstrued as bickering. When a strange man wanders into the store, he thinks you need a little nudge to embrace the strings connecting you. Next thing you know you're waking up in a body that definitely doesn't belong to you. You can't decide if it's the best or worst thing that's ever happened to you.

threads by @yoonia s a ft. knj

 ↬ Life is full of surprises, just like how people are full of secrets. Just when you had thought you have been lucky enough to have your life figured out, life decides to throw you a curve ball when you least expect it. And there is nothing you could do to avoid it, except to hope that you could hold your secrets as tightly as you possibly could before everything blows up into smithereens.

under the willow tree by @orchidyoonkook f a

↬ The town outcast shows up in the one place you find solace from it’s residents. The people you force yourself to fit in with, even though you never want to be anything like them. Will he ruin your only place of salvation, or become the most unlikely friend?

mami by kithtaehyung s ft. knj

↬ you somehow have a conversation with yoongi, and you tell your roommate about a date date.

the devil wears valentino by @orchidyoonkook f s a

↬ Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm. 

angel by @sailoryooons f s

↬ Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences

a boy like you by @cinnaminsvga f

↬ for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you. {or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}

last nite by @tayegi s a

↬ This is a zombie apocalypse AU based on The Walking Dead, The Stand, World War Z, and elements of Attack of Titan

zombie bites by @luffles424 f s a

↬ Your friends have always been willing to assist you when you need a model to practice makeup on. And with the upcoming zombie film on campus is no difference. But something feels different this time, can a zombie movie be more than just a zombie movie? 

heaven's winter by @jksangelic f s a

↬ your duty as the village daughter places you in line for the season’s Offering; a tradition not to tread lightly upon. as the snow falls slow and heavy, and the seraph awaits in the shallows of the mountain, you fail to realize what the winter has in store for you.

heavy sugar by @kinktae s

↬ The Roaring Twenties were a time of great economic wealth and social change. But beneath the jazz music and colorful speakeasies were mafia led organized crimes and bloodstained cash. You knew this well, but try as you might, you just couldn’t ignore the dark and enigmatic gangster whose eyes lingered on you from across the room.

all that holly, jolly shit by @daechwitatamic f s

↬You haven’t seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if they’re not… where does that leave you?

calling the shots by @chans-room f

↬ College basketball captain Yoongi

until death by @kpopfanfictrash s a

↬ Jade has always shaped the island of Kekon. Mined from the mountains, it enhances the abilities of Green Bone warriors who wear it and allows them protection from outside harm. No one understands these threats better than you do, second-in-command of the mighty No Peak clan.  When a new danger appears, seeming to come from within, everything you once took for granted is called into question. Including the bonds you’ve made, some more dangerous than the others. None more so than Min Yoongi, head of No Peak and the only one capable of destroying your heart.

whatta catch by @aredheadedmess f a

↬ One, two, three strikes you’re out. When opposing opinions find you roughing it up with the university’s star pitcher, he makes it his mission to show that you’re wrong about college sports—and maybe your feelings about the player himself.

shatter me, embrace me by @95rkives s

↬you longed for him, yearning for love, yet all that awaited you was heartbreak.

you're losing me by @/archivedkookie a

↬ ❝ He’s losing you, and yet, he lets the flower die in front of his eyes instead of doing everything to save it. Alternatively, Yoongi and you are losing your love toward each other. ❞

spotlight by @back2bluesidex f a

↬ No matter how much you run away from Yoongi, Yoongi always comes right back to you.

all the wrong places by @mrworldwideshoulders f a

↬ After getting separated from your friends during a night out, you get stuck with a hefty bill – one that you can’t pay. So when a handsome, emotionless stranger covers your tab in a random act of kindness, you’re determined to track him down and pay him back. inspired by 24K Magic by Bruno Mars.

now we reign by @/oddinary4bts f s a

↬ when working on a collab together makes you and Min Yoongi seek comfort with the other, you discover there’s more to life than loneliness. Only, hurdles mark your path in Min Yoongi’s life, and it’s unclear what the outcome will be. Will you be destroyed by him and his world, or will you learn to reign over it, together with him?

stay by sugarwithtea f s a

↬ what happens when you get stranded in a remote town with no place to live except for a lodge owned by a dangerously handsome but annoying man? yeah, a lot.

when the stars align by @itskimtaehyung f

↬ With cuffing season approaching its end, you thought you had escaped the pressures of finding a boyfriend for the holidays. That is, until your friends set you up on a blind date that goes horribly wrong. This prompts you to enlist the help of your roommate, Yoongi, to fake a relationship so your friends will stop meddling in your love life. And it turns out Yoongi is a lot better at this romance thing than you originally thought...

egotstic by @pasteljeon s a ft. knj

↬ The timing was never right. He loved you when you were kids, knees scraped and cheeks red. You loved him when pimples bloomed across his skin, voice cracking and he found solace in the scribbled lines in his notebook. The stars never seemed to align for the two of you, but perhaps it was because you were meant for someone else.

on the court by @centerhaechan f

↬ As captain of your school's winning women's basketball team, it is only understood that you despise the men's basketball team and their captain. Your main rival, Min Yoongi, enjoys testing your patience while he attempts to lead his own team to a championship victory. Your coaches believe you both have problems with teamwork, and insist that working together will produce a promising solution.

sugar by @zehakoo f s

↬ desperately in need of sugar to make coffee in order to ease down your headache, you find yourself knocking on a strangers door who happens to be your best friend’s friend and the finest man you’ve ever encountered.

from the ashes by @fortunexkookie s a

↬ Someone is sobbing ugly, wrecked sounds that shatter the silence in the room. You need them to stop; it’s distracting and you need to focus. You need to clean the ash from his skin. You need to comb the knots from his hair. You need to dress his beautiful body in something befitting the king you know he is… but the sobbing is too loud, and your vision is blurry. It takes Yoongi wiping your tears away for you to realize that the gasping cries echoing off the stone are coming from you.

the dark by @/bratkook s

↬ your small town thrives on the occult, luring tourists in with endless themed festivities, but the only place you’re determined to see is the mysterious club that comes to life the week before Halloween. what makes The Dark so exclusive, and what secrets are they hiding behind closed doors?

Triplicity by @kainks ft. jhs

↬ Distance is a cruel thing, and when you find yourself going astray, they are there to help remind you of just where exactly you belong.

fermata by @jeongi f s

↬ fer·ma·ta: from fermare, it means to stay or to stop. min yoongi teaches you exactly how to let go.

private lessons by @dntaewithluv f s

↬ Your little sister finds it odd how you’ve been taking private lessons from her piano teacher for over a month now, but she hasn’t heard you actually play even once…

first love by @geniuslab f s a

↬You learn a lot of new things in your first year of university, including what it feels like to fall in love.

↬looking for other myg fics or the other bts members check out my library

#kiki!fic!rec #kiki's library #yoongi #yoongi fic recs #bts fic recs #bts yoongi #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi:fluff #yoongi:smut #yoongi:angst #yoongi:oneshot #yoongi:series #bts smut #yoongi series #yoongi smut #min yoongi #min yoongi fanfiction #favourites!myg #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #yoongi x yn #yoongi fic #yoongi bts #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst

[helenanell]

Contempt of Court || Challengers

Art Donaldson X Fem!Reader 

CW: 18+ MDNI. Alcoholism / substance abuse. Suicidal ideation. Mentions of car crash/ injury, infidelity (technically - Art is still married to Tashi, but they’re separated) Angst. Smut. A little toxic.

Wordcount: 10.8K

Notes: No use of y/n. Set after the events of the film. Reader is a Tashi stan (There’s too much Tashi Duncan erasure happening and I won’t stand for it.) 

Summary: Still recovering from an injury that put your tennis career on pause, your publicist has landed you a deal to be an ambassador for Nike. What she doesn’t tell you, is that so is Art Donaldson: the player who bad-mouthed you in a live, post match interview two years ago. You only find out once it’s too late. 

 (This story was inspired by the dynamic between Billy and Daisy in Daisy Jones and The Six. But…make it tennis.)

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

For eight agonising weeks, your wrist has been encased in a cast, but now that it’s finally off, you feel far from relieved.

 As the doctor had sawn into the plaster, producing a cloud of white dust like he was breaking into a bone instead of revealing a healed one, you had actually felt panicked. 

After the car crash, you had spiralled into a pit dug with your own self-pity and pain. And once you’d reached the bottom, you’d staved off the encroaching darkness with alcohol and too many painkillers. 

You’d taken drugs before at parties and drunk until you wiped your own memory, the consequence being waking up with your skull practically splitting open from pain. But there was something profoundly different about becoming intoxicated in the hopes of rendering yourself numb:

 You hated yourself whilst you were doing it, and once the harmful buzz wore off, you hated yourself a little bit more. 

You had become fast friends with shame in the past few months. 

You have been desperate to play again, screaming, crying and practically tearing off your own skin with the need to get back to work- to not let yourself fall behind or your ranking suffer. 

But, amongst the amalgamation of negatives there had been a sort of relief, too. Relief, because the choice had been taken away from you. 

The accident hadn't been your fault and nor could you force your bone to heal faster, so for a brief period of time, you had convinced yourself nothing was your fault. For once, you couldn’t be blamed for your own fall from grace. 

But now your bone had healed and if you didn’t give recovery your all, it would be your fault. If there was no triumphant comeback, it would be on you. 

Another thing to fail at. 

Another thing to lose. 

All of which only added to your bafflement over your publicist’s insistence on coming over this morning, in order to discuss ‘a major opportunity’ that wasn’t related to a competition. 

You had originally tried to worm out of it, but your coach had found out and given you the third degree. 

You’re already tired at the thought of it and you don’t even know what it is yet. You don’t want to think about anything but tennis. You don’t have the energy for it. 

In all honesty…you’re hanging on by a thread.

‘Drinking too much’ is a far too casual phrase for how you’ve been living: it has connotations of casualness- a glaring lack of stakes. For you, the stakes are unbelievably high.

You know you can’t afford to become alcohol dependent because even being a functioning alcoholic isn’t an option for you. The only way to function as an athlete—to maintain your career trajectory and the attain the US Open title—is to be at one hundred percent. 

Mixing your painkillers with straight vodka isn’t one hundred percent: it’s a cry for fucking help. Except you can’t let anyone hear the cry, you need to stifle it. 

It’s bad enough that pictures of you being rolled away from your totalled car in a gurney had been plastered over the internet for weeks after the accident. The alcoholic, pill popping tennis pro was a story that would never go away. 

It would morph into an ugly sort of infamy: you’d been in the exclusive club of American sweethearts and heartthrobs who had been hounded so much by the ‘devoted’, that it had driven them to substance abuse to drown out the noise and fortify against the flashing lights. 

So, no one could know. No one.

Which is why, as your publicist pulls into your driveway, you’re rushing to hide a half full bottle of vodka inside a hideously expensive—and also just hideous—vase that had been given to you as an engagement gift.

Two years ago, when your fiancé–and fellow tennis player–had been caught in 4k, kissing a barely legal actress from a HBO teen drama, you’d almost smashed the vase. But, something about destroying a gift from Serena Williams felt like spitting out the ambrosia a god had fed you from their very own hand.

So, while your ring had been thrown into a ravine (best not to dwell on that.) the vase had remained. 

The doorbell rings much sooner than you’re prepared for. Who knew a five-foot-two woman in heels could move so quickly? 

You run over to the door, chewing down on two pieces of gum you’d hastily shoved into your mouth to cover up the scent of alcohol. When you pull it open, you’re met with the stern face of your Publicist, Rebecca. She’s tiny but terrifying, her sharp features framed by a pitch black bob.

Sometimes, it does feel a bit like you’re talking to Edna Mode, but you’d never dare say that.

“Rebecca, hi!” You’re aware the greeting is too happy, and try not to grimace.

When you step back to allow her to enter, Rebecca frowns at you as she passes.

“Why are you fake smiling?” she questions. “Your cast is off, you should be actually happy.”

 You drop the toothy grin, wincing with embarrassment as you follow her into the kitchen.

“I am happy about that, obviously.” You clear your throat, overly aware of how disingenuous you still seem. “What I’m not exactly overjoyed about, is whatever this ‘opportunity’ is.” 

You watch as Rebecca grabs bottle of water from the fridge and then pulls out a stool to sit at the kitchen island. You follow suit, dropping down beside her.

“Well, you should be. I practically had to sell my soul to get them to pick you.”

You level her with an unimpressed look. “Wow, Rebecca, way to raise me up from rock bottom.”

She waves you away. “Oh, please! You hate when I coddle you.”

You huff, dropping your chin into hand and propping your elbow on the counter. “Okay, out with it then. What is it?” 

Rebecca’s cheeks split with a blinding grin. “Nike.” She declares gleefully. 

“Nike.” 

Her smile dampens, disappointed you haven’t burst into happy tears. “Yes, Nike. You know…Just Do It.”

“Yes, I do. I’d just prefer not, you know…do it.”

Your publicist looks just about ready to slap you. “You’re kidding. It’s Nike.”

“Oh, is it? You haven’t mentioned that.”

Rebecca’s frown becomes a scowl and you think about ducking when she angrily snatches up her water bottle. But she doesn’t throw it, just waves it around as she begins to rant at you: 

“Do you know how hard it was to get this?! They wanted Naomi Osaka but I convinced them to go for you instead. And christ knows they were hesitant after the US Open meltdown-”

“We agreed not to refer to it as a meltdown.” You cut in. “My therapist says it has negative connotations that, ‘make me feel a harmful degree of shame.’”

Rebecca scoffs. “You went to one session with that therapist and then fired her because you didn’t like that she drew you a diagram.”

“It was condescending: I’m not five, I don’t need visual aids.”

“Okay, just shut up!” Rebecca barks, smoothing down her still immaculate hair and taking a deep breath. “This isn’t actually up for discussion. You’re doing it.”

“I’m not doing it.”

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( Two Weeks Later… )

‘Just Do It.’ 

It’s the first thing you see when you walk into the Nike office for the photoshoot. 

The poster from a past campaign with Andy Murray has been blown up to ridiculous proportions and framed, hanging in on the first wall that greets anyone who enters.

“If they make mine that big I won’t be able to look at it. I’ll actually vomit. ” 

When Rebecca–who is the epitome of a chatterbox–remains silent, you turn you head to look down at her. She’s already peering up at you, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

Your eyes narrow with suspicion. “What have you done?”

Rebecca lets out a laugh laced with unadulterated fear. “Okay…so, any minute now you’re going to be super fucking pissed at me and you have every right to be, but remember that as you’ve already signed the contract, you don’t have a right to walk out of here.”

You stare her down, knowing it doesn’t take much intimidation for her to crack. 

You don’t end up needing her to blabber, however, because not even five seconds later, the door you’d just come through swings open and a lone figure enters.

 As you turn, you feel your publicist actually take a step away from you.

“Rebecca, I’m going to kill you.” 

You’re not looking at her as you spit out the threat, your eyes are already boring into the man who’s noted your presence and is lingering just beyond the doorway. 

Your history with Art Donaldson is far from extensive. In fact, while the trajectory of your careers have practically run parallel, the two of you have spoken maybe twice. 

But then, almost two years ago, the U.S Open had happened. 

Still dealing with the fall out of your fiance’s cheating scandal, you’d been in potentially the worst mental space of your life. And yet, you had still made it to the final.

 But, during the match…well you’d sort of lost your shit. And then you’d just lost. It had been dramatic and mortifying. 

Then, with the dust not even close to settling, things had gotten even worse. 

Having just clinched the men’s singles trophy for himself, Art Donaldson had sat down for his live post-match interview and one of the first questions he’d been asked, was about your ‘comportment’ during the final. 

You would never forget his answer: 

'Well, obviously it’s a massive disappointment. In so many ways the match between those two women today was legendary. But it always stings when you see someone get in their own way. Anger like that doesn’t belong on the court: it’s infantile and disrespectful to staff and to the fans. It threatens to overshadow what was otherwise a phenomenal game of tennis for both of them.'

When he had then been pressed for his thoughts on what should be done in regards to sanctions, Art had simply said: ‘I think whatever she’s feeling that made her act that way, is probably punishment enough.’

In a few minutes, Art had made you a subject of scorn as well as unwanted sympathy.  He’d made you sound simultaneously contemptible and pitiable. 

He was right, but he hadn’t needed to sound so sanctimonious when he’d said it. And telling the world your own mental anguish was probably torment enough, was just salt in the wound.

In your own defence, you had gone into the final right off the back of the announcement that your ex-fiancé’s new girlfriend was pregnant. And the dates had made it blindingly clear, that conception had happened whilst you were still with him.

 You’d never felt so worthless or dehumanised. And then, after you’d practically killed yourself playing the match of your life, only to lose, Art fucking Donaldson had felt the need to call out your behaviour. 

‘Anger like that doesn’t belong on the court.’ 

Anger ‘like that’ wasn’t something you’d brought to the competition in your overhead luggage, it was a parasite that had been poisoning your blood.

You’d thought that sort of self-cannibalising rage was in your past, bust as Art starts walking over to you, it rears its ugly head once more.

And he has the gall to smile at you. It’s an amicable, almost anticipatory smile. 

You barely even register when Rebecca ducks away, muttering something about finding the photographer. 

Art calls out your name as he stops before you, the corners of his eyes creasing as his smile intensifies. “It’s good to see you.”

“The feeling is not mutual.” You intone harshly.

Art’s smile doesn’t drop, it just becomes tighter, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “Ah- so you are still upset about what I said at the Open.” 

You glare at him, forcing yourself to stop gritting your teeth lest they shatter. “What could possibly make you think that I wouldn't be?”

Art laughs softly, running a hand through his short blonde hair. “Well, because your coach and your publicist both assured me that you weren’t.”

Those fucking traitors. 

It looks like you’ll be going into tomorrow with only your nutritionist and your physio left on your team.

“They lied.” You reply sharply. 

Art tilts his head, his gaze becoming brazen in the way it assesses your face. “Clearly.”

“Well, obviously this isn’t happening.” You gesture between the two of you. “I’m not doing a photoshoot, let alone an entire campaign, with you.”

“I don’t see why it can’t go ahead.” Art declares casually, his lips tugging upward as he observes your indignation. 

You take a step back, not trusting yourself not to lunge for him.

“Well, it’s a good thing I have little regard for your opinion then, isn’t it?”

Art's brows draw together, some irritation beginning to pollute his easy going demeanour. “You do care.”

“Excuse me?”

“You do care about my opinion, because f you didn’t, you wouldn’t still be this pissed over something I said years ago. 

“Pissed?” You almost choke on the word. “You made me sound pathetic. Weak. You insulted my entire career!”

“I seem to recall saying that your match was ‘legendary.’ Phenomenal, is another word I used.”

If there wasn’t so much anger writhing in your gut, you might have rubbed it in his face that for something he’s outwardly dismissing, he seems to remember what he said about you very well.

You step up to him, closing the distance in two strides.

“‘Whatever she’s feeling that made her act that way, is probably punishment enough.’ You said that about me in front of peers and fans in a live interview that was watched by thousands!”

“You’re telling me you don’t think you were out of line?” Art challenges, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning in. 

You know he’s not wrong: it hadn’t been your finest hour. In fact, the morning after, with your behaviour laid bare in the cold light and already being picked over by commentators and tabloids, you had been able to acknowledge it may very well have been one of the worst hours you would ever have. 

But you’d rather die than acknowledge that to Art.

“Oh, that’s fucking rich coming from you!” You hit back disparagingly.

Art’s fingers dig into his arms. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re a hypocrite, Art. I watched your match against Patrick Zweig at the…what was it- Phil’s Tire Town Challenger? Someone recorded it from the stands. Tell me, what emotion were you bringing to the court when you yelled ‘fuck you��� at him across the net?” 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“I’m not proposing a thesis, Art. This isn’t up for debate. I’m just telling you what I saw. And it seems to me, that you have some fucking anger issues of your own, so quit chewing me out over mine.”

“Chewing you out–” He splutters, his cheeks flushing with outrage. “Wow, you really do have a victim complex, huh?” 

“Fuck you!” You seethe.

Your exclamation doesn’t dissuade Art, instead he gathers momentum: 

“You’re acting like I should fall to my knees and beg for forgiveness over an entirely reasonable answer I gave to a question about your piss-poor behaviour. But I didn’t make you launch your racket across the court or cuss out the line judge. You’re not a tragic woman, or some wronged heroine, you’re a grown woman throwing a tantrum because I wasn’t very nice about her in an interview, two goddamn years ago!” 

“Well, I’m a bitch and you’re a hypocrite, looks like neither of us should be tennis’ poster child.” You snap, pushing past him and heading for the door. 

There was absolutely no chance you were doing this photoshoot. Nike could give Naomi Osaka another call. 

Just as you’ve got past him, Art is following you, snagging your wrist with his hand. “Hey! I didn’t call you a bitch.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone. Badmouthing people in public forums is your move.” 

You yank yourself out of his hold and with his eyes burning into the back of your head, you leave Art Donaldson alone in the lobby. 

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( Three Weeks Later… )

In the intervening weeks since your confrontation with Art, you have discovered just how airtight employment contracts can be. 

Nike should really give their lawyers a raise, because you have been assured that there is more chance of you sprouting wings, than being able to get out of the ad campaign. 

You’d been forced back to the studio a week later with your tail between your legs, but while you’d felt genuinely apologetic over the inconvenience caused to Nike’s team, your fury at Art had only compounded. 

Thankfully, the feeling had been mutual and the two of you had passed the entire shoot in utter silence. Neither of you had offered up so much as a hello or goodbye to the other, and while it had clearly been painfully awkward for everyone around you, it had worked out quite well. 

Unfortunately, you and Art had been called back for a day of what they were calling ‘action shots.’

Which is why you’re currently at a country club, dressed in all of Nike’s new gear, being forced to actually play tennis against Art. 

If it was anyone else, you would already have drawn attention to the fact that your wrist is in excruciating pain, but you refuse to falter in front of him. 

Besides, as much as you’re loathe to admit it, playing against Art is exhilarating. 

The team have just called for a break and somehow, despite the innumerable people that have been buzzing around you for the entire day, you and Art suddenly find yourselves alone at the side of the court. 

You’ve done well at remaining civil with each other, but that’s only because you only said ‘hello’ and ‘ready’ before you’d started playing.

Unfortunately for you, Art seems to be in the mood to antagonise.

“I don’t get why this is making you so miserable.” Art says, dropping down onto the bench beside you with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

You hold up the can in your hand, fingers biting into the condensation slick metal. 

“I specifically asked for Tangerine La Croix and they’ve given me Pure.” You mock. You couldn't care less about what you’re drinking.

“Funny.” Art deadpans. 

“And here was me thinking you’d jump at the chance to call me a diva.” You answer, donning a smirk of your own.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Some genuine anger colours Art’s tone and it only feeds the fires of your own.

“What?” 

Art grabs the can from your hand and maintains eye contact as he steals as a sip.

“You refuse to let go of a few critical, but very valid sentences I said about you in that interview and you’ve used them to construct a narrative about my dislike for you. I don’t dislike you.”

“Oh, you don’t? That’s good, because this amicable exchange is really making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.” 

Art groans, slumping back on the bench. He manspreads so wide that his knee knocks into yours. 

“Can you not just enjoy yourself? It’s a beautiful day and we’re being paid to do what we’re great at.”

You wrinkle your nose and try to snatch back the can, but Art tightens his grip and the metal crumples as you both tighten your hold. 

“Yeah, well, not everyone gets off on having their face on a billboard.” You sneer, almost falling back when Art suddenly lets go of the can.

It’s practically empty and completely deformed, so you slam it down onto the empty space beside you.

“How do you know that I do?”

“What?”

“How do you know that I get off on it?” He repeats glibly.

“Because, you’ve clearly wanted to retire for years and now that you have, you can monopolise on the popularity that your wife built up for you and live off clothing lines and ads for the rest of your life.”

“Being great at tennis built up my popularity.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you actually believe that, Art? So many phenomenal players go widely unknown for their entire careers. You are only The Art Donaldson instead of just plain old Art, because Tashi Duncan made you a brand. She’s responsible for your legacy.”

“She didn’t make me.”

“Maybe not, but she did mould you into what you are. You would have been just another generic Stanford whiteboy if she hadn’t decided to give you fucking form.”

“You talk about her like she’s God.” 

“Are you telling me that’s not what it feels like when her attention is solely on you?” You challenge, but you don’t wait for an answer. “You know, I actually played her quite a lot when we were teenagers– we always ended up being us against each other in finals– and even then…it was like trying to play against an elemental force. Every time, without fail, there was a tiny part of me that just wanted to fall to my fucking knees in front of her. But I never did, instead it made my game better. She made my game better. Tashi put all she had into you after her injury, the least you could do is acknowledge what she’s done for you.

“You don’t have to tell me what I owe my wife.”

You scoff, rising to your feet. “I’m telling you what you owe your coach.” 

You don’t actually know where you’re going as you walk away, only that you need it to be far from him.

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( Two Months Later… )

At the launch event for Nike’s new line, you’re standing in front of the massive poster that’s at the forefront of the campaign and swallowing down bile. 

It’s a great picture, you’ll give them that: Your feet are practically lifting off the ground as you throw up the ball for a serve, your expression is contorted with a ruinous passion that portends some sort of violence. And across the net, there’s Art: he’s dropped into a crouch, ready to pounce once you send the ball his way. In the face of your fury, his anticipation comes fitted out with his signature smirk. 

It’s not just a great photo, it’s phenomenal.

 You want to tear it off the wall. 

You’re on the verge of asking anyone if they have a pen so you can scribble over Art’s face, when the man himself appears beside you. In your peripheral vision you catch a glimpse of his sleek, all black suit, but you don’t turn to look at him. 

“I’m not sure you’d get away with defacing it in front of so many people.” 

Trying to suppress your eye roll would be a fruitless endeavour, so you turn to face Art, forcing him to bear witness to your indignation. 

“You should know by now that I have little regard for decorum. You certainly like commenting on my lack of it.”

“I thought you’d still be hung up on that.” 

“Yeah, well, some of us have follow through.” You give him a venomous smile. “How is retirement treating you?”

“Ah, I should have known.”

“Known what?”

“You see retirement is quitting. So, you’ll force yourself to continue well past the point you should, your game will get shittier and shittier, so by the time you’re forced to quit, people will be pitying you instead of remembering how phenomenal you were.”

There’s a compliment in there, but you’re not feeling generous of spirit enough to pluck it out of the insult. 

“I know when to stop, Art. It’s just not now.” You answer coldly.

“Okay, when? Like- give me your timeline. You must have thought about it.”

“Not yet.”

This answer seems to really frustrate him and he just stares at you, a muscle in his jaw feathering as he grips his champagne flute. 

“Do you think I didn’t notice how much your wrist was killing you when we played each other? Are you really going to wreck your body out of stubbornness?”

“You know, Art, what you did wasn’t bowing out at the perfect time, it was cowardice. You skipped right to the curtain call when you still had a last act left to perform. You never got that US Open trophy, did you?” 

Art sighs, his gaze moving back to the photo of the two of you. "Yeah well, something tells me you won't either. Have a good night."

Then he's backing away, his stare lingering on you even as he lets the crowd reabsorb him. 

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( One Month Later… )

Had Tashi Duncan not been one of the people in your life that you most respected and admired, you wouldn’t even have considered attending the fundraising gala for her and Art’s foundation.  

But you were, quite frankly, obsessed with her, so of course you had come.

 Sitting in an uncomfortably tight dress at a table of people you don’t know and with a fair amount of alcohol circulating through your system, is quite possibly the most painstaking thing you’ve ever gone through.

Apart from the car crash. That had been pretty bad. 

But you’re adamant you won’t think about the car crash tonight, or the fact that, somehow, your wrist seems to be getting worse; devolving to a state more dire than when the cast had first come off. 

The meal—which you hadn’t been able to stomach—had come and gone and now the auction is beginning. Tashi is up on the stage, dazzling in the way that only she can and Art is standing at the bottom of the set of stairs that lead up to the platform.

Unfortunately, your table is very close to the front and you’re positioned right in his eyeline. 

Art keeps stealing glances at you with an emotion you can’t place. You had tried to switch seats with the man across from you, but the asshole turned out to be a real stickler for assigned seating. 

If only to distract yourself, you whip out your phone, resting it in your lap beneath the table.

The moment you open up Instagram, your heart drops into your stomach. 

You thought you had expunged any remnants of your ex from your life, but it seems you’ve missed a mutual friend on Instagram, one who has just reposted his engagement announcement with his girlfriend and mother of his now one year old daughter. 

That bastard has broken your heart and wrecked your head, but while your life just keeps getting worse, the universe has seen fit to bless him with everything he’s ever wanted. 

The auction is already in full swing when you rise clumsily from your seat and weave through the tables, heading for the closest exit. 

It’s only as you push open the door and begin to sway, that you realise you’re actually quite tipsy. You might have drunk a little too much before you’d left the house. 

It’s freezing outside, but you can’t face going back for your coat, so, unsteady on your feet, you flee into the extensive gardens that surround the estate that’s acting as the gala’s venue. 

You walk well past the point where the lawn lighting disappears and clamber over a fence that has ‘restricted area’ prominently posted in front of it.

You don’t know where you’re going, but as you stagger down the hill, your sadness is alleviated very slightly by the sight of a massive pond that you’re sure is beckoning to you. 

You kick off your heels and drop down onto the bank, quick to put your feet into the water. Once you’re settled, you retrieve your hip flask from your clutch and begin to guzzle vodka in earnest.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

You turn and you find an incensed Art striding towards you. You’re more than a little delighted by the sight of mud splattered over the polished surface of his shoes. 

“I was having some time to myself.”

“You needed to walk all the way down here to get it?”

You laugh caustically, gesturing at him. “Well…no. Obviously I should have walked even further away.”

Art huffs, entirely unimpressed. He takes a few steps further down the bank and holds out a hand beckoning you over.

“Come on, you need to come back inside.”

“Why is that?”

“Because, you offered tennis lessons with yourself as an auction item and you’re up soon. You need to be on stage.”

Ah. You’d forgotten about that. 

“Why do I need to be seen? It’s not like they’re buying me.”

“You still can’t stay in there. Get out.”

“I’m not in it, Art. I’m just dangling my feet in the water.”

“Well, you can’t ‘dangle’ your feet in there, it’s a pond not a swimming pool.” 

“I can’t?” You feign a bafflement as you look at your feet, submerged in the murky water. “I sort of already am?”

Art moves even closer but falters, his bright eyes becoming an invading force: his gaze takes hold of your edges and peels them back.

He can see inside.

“What’s wrong?” He probes, the harsher edges of his previous words now nowhere to be found.

“At the moment, it’s you.” 

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not actually, but I’m getting there.” 

Art’s eyes flick to the metal object glinting in your hand. “Is that a hip flask?” 

“What a keen eye you have.” You mutter sardonically.

“Okay, I'm serious now, get out.”

“Oh, he’s being serious!” You mock, rising to your feet.

 But you don’t move away from the pond. Instead, you turn and start walking backwards into the water you wobble when your bare feet sink into the mud, icy liquid seeping into the thin fabric of your silk dress.

Art lunges forward, closing the distance until he’s standing at the edge of the water. His hand darts out and he grabs your forearm. 

“You’re too close to drunk to be near a body of water, let alone in one. You’ll drown yourself.” 

Art plucks the hip flask from your fingers with his free hand and tosses it into the grass behind him, all without taking his eyes off you. 

Then he seems to actually register where his hand is. He’s still gazing into your eyes as his thumb brushes over the scar above your wrist. 

“Compound fracture.” You say on a bitter breath. “The bone went right through. Fucking drunk driver. Funny that, isn’t it? He crashed into me, fucked my career probably permanently and then I became a drunk to cope.”

Some of the hardness in Art’s expression melts away, but it pools into the bags beneath his eyes and the shadows beneath his cheekbones, making him look almost distraught. Once you realise it’s sadness--no, pity--for you, you wrench your wrist out of his grasp and wade further back into the pond. 

You gasp, shocked as the frigid water wraps around your legs in an eager embrace. It’s like it’s clinging on, wanting to keep you forever. 

You find the thought of it quite peaceful.

You think on Art’s words from months ago: he’s right, about you being too stubborn to know when to stop. You won’t retire until you’re physically falling apart.

 But what if you just sink down into the water right now? You’d disappear and the memories would be of a great player gone too soon.

God, you didn’t realise you had such a large ego that you’d consider letting yourself drown just to save face.

Art is beyond unimpressed now. He’s furious. 

“Get out.” You just smile at him, stepping further back. The water reaches your navel and you let your fingertips skim over the water. “I’m not kidding, get the fuck out. Now.”

“Will you just back off!” You erupt. “We’ve done the campaign, we’re not friends, there’s no reason for us to be involved.” 

“None of that gives me a reason to leave you alone out here.”

“Why not?!” You protest desperately. “It’s not the ocean, I can’t be swept out to sea!”

“Get out of the water.”

“No.” 

“Get out.” 

“Get fucked.” You hit back, letting yourself sink back into the water. 

As you move to float on your back, another frantic laugh bubbles up as you're enveloped by its icy grip. Your dress becomes heavier, a five thousand dollar weight around your body, urging you to sink lower.

You turn your head to the side so that you can see the surface of the water:

This far out of the city, the stars are no longer choked by smog and so are able to tear through the darkness. The water perfectly mirrors the sky, so much so that it’s like you’re swimming in the cosmos. If you open your mouth, you could take some of it into yourself. 

You had struggled to get out of bed this morning, but now, in the quiet night, you have the chance to swallow a thousand stars–

Impudent splashing disrupts your peace. 

Your head shoots up, water running in eager rivulets off your hair as you watch wide eyed, as Art drops into the water. His jacket and shoes have been discarded on the edge of the bank. 

“What are you doing?”  

Art doesn’t answer, instead he drives through the water towards you, his strides producing ripples that disturb the reflected constellations. Shooting stars. 

You’re not very far out, so just as Art closes in on you, you plant your feet on the muddy bottom of the pond and stand up.

The fabric of your dress is dark and slick against your body like an oil spill. The breeze blows a tentative breath against you, causing your skin to pebble and your nipples to harden.

Art reaches for you but your hand flies out and you swat him away.

You push yourself further out, giggling at his expression as the water comes up to your chin. 

Then Art’s diving after you, the white material of his shirt submerged in the water. 

“Art, this is a pond, not a swimming pool.” You tease, amusement blooming.

In fact, you’re relishing the sight of his arms pushing through the water so much, that you forget to make another escape attempt. 

Before you know it, Art is right up in front of you, his breath coasting over your face as he wraps an arm around your middle beneath the water. 

You drive your feet into the mud, your smile growing as he looks exasperatedly up at sky. His fingers press into your side.

“This is so beyond funny.” He grouses, trying and failing to tug you closer.

Seeing as you’re not actually drunk, you’re not sure what comes over you, but you’re seized by a giddy, childlike urge. 

You decide to give into it.

Art’s eyes widen slightly as you rush forward, pressing your chest right up against his. Then, you place one hand on each of his shoulders and push.

There’s a brief moment, where your face rises above Art and he gazes up at you, droplets of water rolling off your face and onto him. He’s looking at you in the same way you had been gazing up at the stars. Perhaps you’ve become one of them. Wouldn’t that be something?

Art realises too late what you’re going to do. 

“Don’t you dare–”

You push all of your weight onto his shoulders and dunk him into the pond. His head goes under, short blonde locks floating up in the water.

You immediately let him go and when he comes up, spluttering for air, the hand not on your waist winds around the back of your neck, threading into the hair at the nape of your neck. He pulls you flush against him again.

When he speaks, it is a whisper you feel against your cheek. “You’re such an asshole.” 

Your hands fall onto his waist beneath the water. “I know.” 

You shriek as Art tips you back, his hand still cradling the back of your neck as he dunks your head into the water in retaliation. It feels like a baptism. 

When you come back up, he's chuckling as you gasp for air. 

“I had to do that.” Art defends.

 He notices you scrambling to push soaked strands of hair out of your eyes and proceeds to help you, his hand brushing over your cheeks and forehead before returning your sight to you. 

“I feel like you didn’t have to.” You splutter, fighting back a laugh of your own. 

You’re suddenly glad for his grip on you- you’re far too flustered to stand firmly on your own two feet. 

Art’s cheek’s dimple as he smiles, shaking his head at you. Your breath hitches. 

When he’s unencumbered by negative emotion…Art shines. 

He leans in again, his lips grazing the shell of your ear: 

“Don’t start something you’re not prepared to finish, sweetheart.” Your breathing becomes even more laboured as he draws away, his nose briefly dragging against your cheek. “Now…get out of the goddamn pond.” 

And then he’s pulling away, leaving you gaping after him as he moves back towards the bank.

 His touch is an absence you really wish didn’t feel so profound 

“Spoilsport.” You grumble. But you’re already moving after him. 

The alcohol you did have in you has disappeared; shocked out of your system by the frigid water and the feel of Art’s hands.

 You wade back towards the bank, your hip flask is nestled in the grass and glinting seductively in the moonlight. 

With Art’s back to you, you let yourself stare as he drags himself out of the water. His shirt is stuck to his body and entirely see through, settling into the ridges of his muscled chest. The moon’s light shines through the fabric hanging from his sleeves, making it look like the membrane of wings.

As Art kneels on the grass, you blink rapidly as if he’s a vision you can dispel from your sight. 

You can acknowledge he’s attractive- you’re not blind– but you can’t abide the yearning arising within you. You don’t have room for that in your life, for anyone, but especially not for him. 

You finally reach the edge of the bank and then Art is kneeling at the edge, holding a hand out for you to take.

You consider him for a moment and process the newfound ease on his face. He seems almost serene. 

You fight off a shiver that you blame on the cold and ignore his outstretched hand, pulling yourself out of the water unaided. 

“Really?” Art bites out irritatedly, watching as you wander over to your hip flask and sit down right beside it. You take it into your hand and unscrew the cap. 

When you bring it to your lips you look right into his eyes. “Really.” 

You throw your head back, the path the vodka burns down your throat is a welcome discomfort. You had felt far too peace just now, floating in a sea of stars with Art. 

But those weren’t stars, just a reflection of them. It was a trick. Nothing that could ever be real. 

When you drop the now empty flask into your lap, there are tears in your eyes. 

When was the last time you’d felt even close to the happiness you’d found in that water? 

It wasn’t real.

A traitorous tear is already rolling down your cheek as you drop your eyes to your hands. 

“Hey.” Art says softly. He kneels down beside you, one hand on your soaked back as the other plucks the flask out your lap. “What’s wrong?”

You make a noise that’s half sob, half laugh. “I already answered that question.” 

“Yeah, except I know you’re full of shit.” When you look up at him, Art’s frown becomes something gentler. “I know I’m not your problem.” 

You scoff, shoving his chest. He sways backwards, but drops down onto his knees, planting himself on the ground beside you. His hand is still on your back.

“Yes, you are actually.” You answer nastily. “You really are.”

“Just tell me.” Art whispers, ducking his head into your field of vision so you’re forced to look at him. His free hand settles on your cheek. “Tell me what’s wrong because this…is sort of scary.”

You lift your hands and clasp his cheeks, digging your fingers in. You’re overcome by a violent impulse to tear into his skin. 

It would be far easier to draw blood than confront how you’re beginning to feel about him. 

“Aww.” You croon. “Did I scare the poor little baby?” 

“Stop it.” He scolds. His hands move to grasp your wrists but he doesn't pull you away, not even as you press your nails further in.

But you won’t stop- can’t stop. Your feelings have become spiteful and unruly, running away from you at a pace which you can’t hope to match.

You can’t take the strain. And because Art is the contributor to that is closest to you, it’s him you’re going to lash out at.

“No, really, I didn’t think you’d be such a pussy.” You forge on, spewing venom. “I scared you by getting in a pond? Grow the fuck up, Art.”

But Art doesn’t rise to it. His jaw doesn’t clench and his grip on you doesn’t tighten. 

“This isn’t okay.” He says, tentative but assured. “You’re not okay.” 

“No, I'm not!” You snap wrenching your wrists free. “But it’s got absolutely nothing to do with you.”

You try to rise to your feet, but Art doesn’t let you. He moves so he’s kneeling either side of you, his legs pressing into your thighs as his hands fall onto your shoulders. You can feel in the way his fingers press into you that he’s fighting the urge to shake sense into you. 

You look up at him, slightly startled by his forcefulness. His back is facing the moon now and his drenched body is limned in silver. 

Before you can berate yourself for even thinking about it, you’re winding your hand around his tie and dragging him down, smashing your lips against his. 

You shouldn't be doing this, a large part of you doesn’t want to, but it feels like the only way to purge yourself of him. And what kills a bacteria faster than blazing heat?

Art lets out a warning groan, but your teeth nipping his bottom lip is all it takes to have him leaning in. Even your kiss feels like a fight, battling each other for control, pressing with bruising force.

Art crowds over you, guiding your back against the grass.

You let yourself fall. 

As your back presses into the earth, one of his hands settles on the side of your neck as he drags the other up your leg. When he peels up the sodden material of your dress, his hand exploring your thigh, the cold air bites tauntingly against your rapidly heating skin. 

Your hard nipples brush against his soaked t-shirt and the feeling is so tantalising, that you find your back arching, pressing yourself into him and chasing the sensation.

When you let out a moan into his mouth, Art draws back as if some unseen hand has pulled on him.

He’s still agonisingly close, his lips a hair's breadth away as he gazes down at you through heavy eyelids, water droplets running down his face from his hair. His breathing is ragged.

 Art’s eyes close and with his sight lost to him, his lips drift closer to you again and his teeth nip at your chin. After placing a ghost of kiss over where he’s bitten, he takes a deep breath.

Then his eyes open, and his expression is blank. It makes you feel sick.

You’re burning up with want, but you can already see the realisation of your transgression settling into the very bones of Art. He’s about to spurn you, disdain no doubt working its way to the surface. So you have to get there first. 

“Poor, sensitive Art, scared by a kiss.” You goad. The words are forced out and they feel malformed on your tongue. “Don’t worry your little head over it, it doesn’t mean anything.” 

Art drops his eyes from you, shaking his hand as he pushes himself off up. 

“Nice try, but I know what you’re doing.”  

He mumbles it and doesn't give you a chance to acknowledge it befores he’s on his feet and walking away. 

Tears prick insistently at the back of your eyes but you force them back, pressing the heels of your thumbs into them until it hurts. 

You sit up, feeling leaves and blades of grass sticking to your exposed skin.

You feel the air shift behind you, and are startled when you peer over your shoulder and find Art standing at your back. He has his shoes back on and is gripping his dry jacket far too tightly. 

You find your voice, but it’s weak: “What am I doing Art?” 

He doesn’t meet your eye, instead he opens up the jacket in his hands and settles it over your shoulders. You sit there, stunned as he tugs it around your body. Then he leans down and over your shoulders, his breath on the side of your face as he deftly buttons the jacket up. 

Art encloses you in the dry garment that carries the scent of him. 

“You’re doing the same thing as me.” He says quietly. It sounds almost painful for him to talk. “Running away. I guess we’re both cowards.”

And then he’s gone, marching back up the bank without another word.

You’re left sitting there, wrapped in his jacket and staring out at the pond. 

Not the night sky. 

Just a pond. 

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( Three Months Later… )

After your cast had first come off, Wimbledon had felt like an intimidating but still far off thing; a dark shape on the horizon, but one you had to squint to see. But then it moved closer, barreling towards you like a bat out of hell. 

You’ve made great progress in your recovery, you really have…but all your extensive physiotherapy hasn’t been able to heal the nerve-damage you’d turned out to have- at least not in a timespan that’s workable for a professional athlete. 

You’re done. Tennis career over.

And your worst fear has come true: it hadn’t been your choice. Injury has forced you out and the public discourse is rife with commiseration and useless, positive platitudes. 

Art has been proved right. Everything would be so much better had you known when to quit. You had preferred ridicule to this. 

But until you’d come to Wimbledon, it hadn’t really sunk in yet: you hadn’t had the moment of finality. 

What closure has ended up feeling like, is the final nail in your coffin.

As you had watched the first matches of Wimbledon from the stands, Rebecca glancing at you constantly–presumably to check you weren’t about to burst into tears–you had felt as though you were being buried: each serve and volley another hand tossing dirt on top of the coffin, sealing you beneath the ground for good. 

At least one part of your day has been successful. You have completed the challenge you’d set for yourself that morning, which was to not drink any alcohol until the evening.

 It has been excruciating.

Evidence of your victory lays in your trembling hands as you fit your keycard into the door of your hotel room. You’re desperate for what you know sits waiting for you on the other side. 

But then, just as the lock mechanism chirps to let you know you’ve been granted entry, someone calls your name.

Your keycard is left in the door as your fingers fall away from the handle and you turn to face Art. He’s stopped himself a safe distance from you and is gazing at you with what looks like…relief? 

Of course you knew he was at Wimbledon–you’d narrowly avoided crossing paths with him a number of times already today–but to hear his voice and having his probing stare directed solely on you, is as debilitating as you remember. 

You haven’t seen each other, or even spoken, since the night by–or rather in–the pond. 

The only place the two of you are still together in any capacity, is on the Nike billboards that are still occupying space throughout the world.

And as if Art’s thoughts align with your own, he says: 

“You pull an impressive disappearing act.” He steps closer.

“That suggests you went looking for me.” You counter, pleased with how detached you sound. “We both know you didn’t.” 

“No. I didn’t.” Art replies frankly. 

“So I didn’t disappear, did I? You just couldn’t see me.”

Art moves towards you some more, stopping an arms length away. 

“It felt the same.” He utters lowly. “You were gone.”

You shrug halfheartedly. “So were you.” 

Then you press your back into the door, fingers seeking out the handle, shaking now for a reason other than alcohol withdrawal. 

You really don’t know if you’re running away or urging him on, but when you push open the door and duck inside, you do know that you’re not angry when he follows. 

You put your back to the hallway door, expecting Art to move past you and head into the suite, but he doesn’t. At least not right away. Instead, he stops right in front of you, looking down at you as the door swings shut. 

You would barely have to lift your hand and you’d be touching him.

You hate that he looks so good. He’s in simple navy dress pants, a white shirt sitting snugly on his chest, the top few buttons undone. 

The two of you stand like that for a minute or so, and just as you realise that your breaths have practically synchronised, Art is moving away from you and wandering inside. 

It’s only then, as he ventures deeper, that you remember what you’ve been so eager to get back into the room for. You curse yourself, letting your head fall back against the wall behind you.

Even if he hadn’t already seen them, it would be too late for you to hide the line of alcohol minis that you’d gathered from the bar cart. 

You’d set them out earlier, the process almost meditative. It had been a promise to yourself: get through the day without drinking and you can have all of these once you’re alone.

But now they’re standing out in the open, displayed on the nearby desk like pieces knocked off a board in a game that you’ve been playing against yourself. 

You watch helplessly as Art walks right over to them, his hands in his pockets. Your face flushes with shame.

Art cranes his neck back to look at you. You’re still pressed against the wall, afraid that if you take one step closer, you won’t be able to stop yourself from taking ten more. And you don’t want to be close to him when his face shifts into pity or revilement. 

“You planning on drinking all of these?” Art asks, turning back to the bottles as if he knows his gaze is steadily undoing you and wants to grant a reprieve.

Eased slightly by the remarkable placidity of his tone, you’re able to answer calmly. But you still don’t move. 

“That was the plan.” 

Art lets out a non-committal hum. “Why?” 

You laugh awkwardly, wringing your hands together. “I don’t know, why does anyone drink?” 

“I don’t care about anyone, I'm asking about you.” His voice is firm, but the foundation of it is something less solid. His words shake on the way out. 

You’re overcome with the urge to be honest. It’s actually a lot easier when he’s not looking at you. 

“I drink because at some point in my life, every tiny thing became really difficult- like, embarrassingly difficult, to the point where I feel like a child again. And it turns out that ineptitude is easier to bear when you feel like you’ve imposed it on yourself. I drink because it makes me feel helpless…but, helpless by choice.”

The confession hangs suspended in the air, a horrifying, complicated marvel- like a beautiful butterfly now dead and pinned by its wings to a board. 

Art speaks into the silence, his back still turned to you. “Do you want to forget? Is that part of it?” 

“Forget what?” You’re struggling for breath now, his presence drawing all of the oxygen from the room.

He half-turns his head, blue eyes settling over you once more. “All of it.”

“There’s not enough alcohol in the world for that.” You say morosely.

You have learnt that getting drunk doesn’t rid you of all the thoughts that torment you in sobriety, it just pushes them further to the back. Even if you drink so much you can barely walk, the thoughts remain, banging on the barrier and demanding to be let back in. 

Art doesn’t respond to that. He turns back to the little bottles and you watch as he reaches out a hand and knocks over the one closest to him. He pushes it forward, sending them all toppling one after the other like dominos. His eyes are set on them as they roll around on the table, a couple falling onto the plush carpet. And your eyes are set on him. 

Then, he finally turns to properly face you, knocking the fallen bottles with his feet as he leans back against the table and crosses his arms against his chest. 

He’s waiting, you realise. Waiting for you to speak. Waiting for you to make the first move. Wanting you to come to him. 

You push off the wall and start walking towards him. “Why did you follow me in here, Art?”

He sighs, the corner of his lip pulling up with a melancholy smile. “Because you make me feel helpless.” 

That almost stops you in your tracks, but you recover quickly, barely a footstep faltering as you advance on him. Your heartbeat is a warning drum in your ears.

Once you reach him, Art widens his legs, allowing you to step between them.

As you settle your hands on his thighs, his duck beneath your dress and come to rest on the bare flesh of the back of your legs. He draws you closer, making you fingers dig into his trousers to steady yourself. 

You sigh, your eyes fluttering shut as he leans forward, brushing his lips against your exposed sternum. 

You’re still flushed and sweating from the uncharacteristically blazing English sun and you shudder as Art’s tongue darts out lapping at the moisture there. 

You rock forward, placing your chin on the top of his head, inadvertently pressing his mouth further into your skin. His lapping tongue turns into kisses, kisses that travel down onto the swell of your breasts and into the valley between them.

Even when he reaches the fabric of your dress, he doesnt let it stop him: Art’s lips close around your clothed nipple, wetting the thin fabric with his saliva. You let out a breathy moan into his hair as he moves onto the next one. 

As Art works his mouth against you, you push your hands higher, letting your fingers brush the bulge in his pants before they’re settling on his belt buckle. 

He says your name, each movement of his lips searing into your flesh. 

“Do I make you feel helpless?” He asks, his hands moving up to curl in the sides of your underwear. 

“No, Art. You don’t.”

As you undo his fly, he begins to pull your underwear down.

“Why?” He closes his mouth around your breast and bites down just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. 

You remove one of your hands from his crotch and use it to grab the back of his neck, you pull him away from your chest, forcing him to look up at you as your other hand disappears into his trousers, palming his hardness.

Even as you step out of your underwear and kick it away, you’re starting to stroke him. His mouth falls open, sucking in a breath as gazes up at you as if you hung the moon.

“How could I feel helpless?” You goad, leaning in and resting your mouth beside his ear to whisper. “When I have so much power over you?” 

Art’s initial answer is to buck up into your hand, chasing the friction you’re moving too slowly to give him, but when you laugh at his desperation, he’s surging up, wrapping his arms around your waist and spinning you.

In a flash, you’ve taken up his position: ass resting on the edge of the desk. 

Before you can catch your breath, Art has his hands on your knees and is spreading your legs, exposing your bareness to him.

But apparently he still hasn’t got you where he wants, because his fingers then wrap around the back of your legs and he lifts you, placing you further back onto the wooden surface. More bottles roll off the edge and drop into the carpet. 

Then, finally, Art’s eyes meet yours. His smirk makes a return. 

“So…” He begins, his hands gathering up your dress and leaving it to bunch up at your waist. “I have absolutely no effect on you? None at all?”

“No-” You can’t even finish your thought let alone the word before his fingers are running through the wetness between your legs. Your instinct is to shut them, but his hips are in the way, so you only succeed in holding him firmly in place. 

You are left to stare as he lifts his hand up, evidence of your arousal glistening on his fingers. Then, slowly enough that he can watch the realisation of what he’s doing dawn on your face, Art takes his fingers into his own mouth.

His eyes meet yours and do not shift away for even a second as he licks your wetness from his skin. 

The tightness in your belly becomes almost too extreme to bear, and a throbbing begins between your legs. 

“I want you to ask.” Art says, his fingers–now wet with his own saliva–drawing circles on your inner thigh. “I want you to ask me to fuck you.” 

“I thought you were here because I make you feel helpless?” You try to sound taunting, but your voice is ragged with want. “Now you want to be in control?”

Art leans down and you expect an abrupt, bruising joining of your lips, but instead he kisses you slowly, tenderness in every gentle movement. His mouth is is still aligned with yours as he answers: 

“It’s not about control, sweetheart. I just want to hear that you want me as much as I want you.” 

You begin to kiss along his jaw, your sentence formed with words cushioned between the press of your lips:

“I want you to fuck me, Art.” 

Art's fingers curl around your jaw, bringing your lips back to his as he frees himself from his pants with his other hand. Your kiss is languid but rapidly growing with force, passion driving pleasure ever closer to point of pain.

“Condom?” Art questions into your open mouth. 

With his fingers digging into your chin, you can't shake your head so you’re forced to gather enough of your wits to speak again:

“Birth control.” 

“Okay.” Art pecks your lips before lifting a hand and spitting onto it. Then he’s fisting himself in his hand and pressing inside of you. 

Your legs immediately wrap around his waist, hooking together to pull him in even further. 

Art lets out a shuddered breath, his head dropping to your shoulder as he settles himself inside of you.

He kisses and licks across your collarbone, only stopping when he comes across the thin strap of your dress. With a little growl, he takes it between his teeth, tugging it back and then letting it ping back into your skin. 

You laugh, still adjusting to the feel of him inside of you as you move to pull down the top of your dress. But Art has other ideas. He stops you with a slow thrust, rolling his hips just enough to have your hands wrapping around his neck instead. 

“Let me do it.” He’s giving a command and yet it sounds like a grovel. 

Then, in unison, his fingers find the straps of your dress and he’s pulling them away, tugging the bodice down and exposing your breasts to him completely. His hands fall onto them immediately, palming the supple flesh and lifting them up higher so that he can kiss them even as he begins to rock into you. 

Just as your heartbeat begins to find some sort of rhythm again, Art pulls out of you almost completely before driving back in. Your breath is knocked out of you and as he begins to thrust with controlled rapidity.

Your hands fall to his still covered ass and dissatisfied with the lack of contact, you push your fingers past the waistband and dig your nails into his naked flesh. 

Art moans into your neck, clamping down with his teeth as he picks up his pace yet again. 

“Art-” You call out, lost in the press of him inside you. 

The table begins to shake so much that it’s slamming against the wall, the noise perfectly aligning with the sound of your hips slapping together.

“Tell me this doesn’t make you feel out of control.” Art pleads, his movements growing frenzied. 

By this point you can hardly think straight, so you give in, his statement going unanswered as your head is thrown back in pleasure. Art chuckles, licking up the column of your neck. 

“I think I got my answer.” 

“Shut up.” 

When Art laughs at you again, you remove your hands from his ass and grip his face instead, drawing his lips back up to yours. He opens wide, panting into your mouth before your tongues start to move together.

You stay like that, mouths joined and breaths shared as his thrusts become messier,  his hands on your back beginning to tremble.

But you’re not close yet and he knows it. He reaches between you and presses his thumb into your sensitive bud, applying enough pressure that, combined with him driving into you, has you quickly coming undone.  

You break the kiss, crying out as your body is wracked with convulsions. 

Art smiles, his eyes drooping closed as he chases his own release. And it doesn’t take long. You’re still coming back to yourself when his hips stutter and his fingers dig into you. He lets go, spilling inside you. 

You both go still. You press your face into his chest–his shirt now dappled with spots of sweat–as he places a kiss on the top of your head. 

You’re both breathing heavily, reeling in the wake of your joining when your phone–tucked into your purse that you had dropped by the door–begins to ring

Still inside you, Art shifts, pressing closer as his lips begin to kiss a path down your cheek. “Don’t answer it.” 

You lean back just enough to meet his eye and smile. “I’m not going to answer it.” 

Art matches your grin as he leans down and gives your lips a peck. “Good. Because I’m nowhere near done with you.”

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #challengers movie #art donaldson smut #mike faist #tashi duncan

[roseykat]

TITLE: Play Tight

PAIRINGS: Bang Chan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Reader and Chan divulge their ‘excuse’ as to why they couldn’t make it to hot pot and barbecue dinner with their friends.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with me, my work, or page whatsoever.

TAGS: smut, porn with plot, swearing, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampies, fwb, some pillow talk (ish)

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3

🏷️ LIST: @chillichillicrabcrab23 @broken-glowsticks @ihatemen55 @boi-bi-ahaha @galamxy @weareapackofstrays @anglerfishiey @elizalabs3 @fr34k4c1dr41n @stayconnecteed @imnotjjini0325 @twinklix @meilix @livsposts @dawn-iscozy @princejisung @valibals @oiikaro @im-sinking-in-mud @aalexyuuuhm @baby-yongbok @/leftkittenface @20minsat180degrees @itsthatbri (if you want to be removed or added to the tag list, please lmk!) ⭐️

A/N: if you don't know what a refractory period is it's essentially about the ability of most women to cum back to back or one after the other in a short span of time between one orgasm and the next. Therefore, if it seems as though I've written about reader having multiple orgasms within quick succession, that's because she is and Chan is making the most of it. Also I really pushed the time limit with uploading this part bc I spent the last few hours trying to get the fan club which took fucking ages...

Hot pot and barbecue with friends - now that sounded fun. 

You saw the group chat messages from earlier, and the plan to all meet up at half past six. Had you not orchestrated other arrangements, you would be sitting with them right now enjoying nice meals and chats. Instead, your body remains to be railed thoroughly, right into the bed that belongs to none other than Chan. The owner of very capable hands who had just finished fucking you on his couch earlier on. 

He too missed dinner with everyone for the same reason. Selfishly being, to get laid. 

Chan presented half of a lie to the group chat, saying that his family was back in the city - which was true, and that he was going to visit them, so he couldn’t make it - not true. You on the other hand conjured the only fib you could think of and told everyone that you were going to be working past six.

Both of you felt relatively guilty for ditching the dinner. However, it would’ve looked ten times more suspicious if the two of you suddenly changed your minds at the same time and decided to show up. 

But why would anyone suspect anything? Nobody knew Chan was rearranging your guts every other night. Or so you thought. That dirty, slutty little secret was only kept hushed between you and Chan. These past couple of months you’ve spent at each other's houses, tainting the very last remnants of innocence either of you had. 

You wouldn’t have realised it at first until you experienced it for yourself, but Chan is and can get really horny. Before him, there was no such thing as ‘hard-paced’ or ‘nasty’ sex. It was fairly vanilla, which there’s nothing wrong with from time to time. But at the minute, that wasn’t the cup of tea you fancied. No. It was something much dirtier and riveting, something that makes you feel like you’re very much alive. 

Chan was able to achieve that in less than half an hour after you both hooked up one time after a night out. Sure there might’ve been alcohol involved, except neither of you were drunk enough to completely forget what an amazing time you both had. So much so that you and Chan decided to hook up again. And again, and again, until it became a weekly event. 

In saying that, there were a few layers as to why you and Chan started seeing each other regularly. You needed the de-stressor from work that had been hounding you for months, and among other things, there is nothing like a good dick down to make just about make every worry in your mind disappear.

As for Chan’s situation, it wasn’t as light. Having been cheated on by his long term partner, Chan entered what you refer to as his ‘hoe phase’ to which he was rather embarrassed to learn that it’s something that people tend to go through when they’ve broken up with their significant other. 

Nonetheless, you and Chan unexpectedly found each other in a way friends wouldn’t typically, and it was only limited to that. No strings attached, still remain good friends, and the best mind blowing sex. 

“Fuck - yes, right there!”

Chan’s hips ram unforgivingly into you from behind. Creating godly, euphoric waves that ripple throughout your body each and every time he does. His fingernails clutch themselves into the soft flesh of your hips, allowing him to use that small bit of traction to pull your body back onto his cock or for him to thrust forward mercilessly. 

This was way better than dinner with friends. 

“W-Wait,” you reach behind to the side of your body, trying to tap his arm and prompt him to slow down so you could get your message across without having it fucked right out of you. “Ride…lemme ride you.” 

Chan swallows and nods, taking a short breather, “yeah, yeah okay.” 

Whilst you’ve learned a lot of things about Chan since you’ve started sleeping with him, he’s also learned some stuff about you. Like discovering throughout your secret sessions with him that you seem to cum the hardest when you’re riding him. He doesn’t entirely see the appeal of it since he doesn’t mind picking up all the slack just so you don’t have to do any of the work. At the same time, however, nothing feels as good as fucking his frustrations into you.

But he also doesn’t mind them getting fucked out of him. It easily added to one of the reasons why he found it so hot to watch you ride dick. 

As he gently slides his cock out of you, moving into the next position where he now gets to lie back against his pillows. He watches you straddle him first, then take his length in hand before aligning it with your hole. Slowly, you sink down onto his cock. 

The ‘o’ shape in your mouth enlarges when the entirety of his length vanishes inside you. He’s big. Something you can’t always grasp every time you sleep together. The silver lining in that however is that the foreplay is amazing. 

“Christ,” you breathe out, lifting your hips up and down a couple of times, groaning as the pleasure already built up from before starts re-taking its effect to its highest extent. “Fuck, make me feel so full.” 

“So you keep telling me,” he responds with a cocky grin as his hand reaches up to one of your tits and gropes ravenously. “But that’s what you like isn’t it? Having a big cock inside you, yeah?”

Your hand claps right on top of his, the other stabilises your body on his chest as you start riding at a pace comfortable enough to build some momentum. It doesn’t take long until every part of your body feels like warm flames are tickling your skin, leaving tingly traces in their wake. 

“Yes, love it so much,” you pant breathlessly. “Love it when it makes me cum.” 

Chan is glad to hear that. Then again, he knows. He’s fucked you long enough to know what you like, what you don’t, and what type of pleasure can turn your mind inside out. With that in mind, and one hand still groping you, he uses the other thumb to find your clit and rub generously. 

“F-Fuck, oh my god, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you plead in anguish as you start to feel your orgasm shift into sight. 

It’s right there. The utmost pleasure and ecstasy at its apex swells from the pit of your stomach, to your toes, all the way into the crevices of your brain. Every part of you - physically and mentally, just seems to melt into Chan. His cock, which feels like it was made for you to use like this, glides frictionlessly until his tip kisses your g-spot so lovingly. Each time it hits, Chan earns extra centimetres of long red scratches down his abdomen, marked up by your fingernails. 

“Cum,” he demands through gritted teeth. “Fucking cum all over me.”

Brainless and vacant as you were in trying to respond to him, your actions seemed to speak for themselves. As Chan continues to move his thumb consistently over your clit and you bounce yourself still on his cock, your eyes suddenly screw tight shut - shuddering before a surge of relief gushes from between your legs. 

Chan grins sickeningly. 

The untapped pleasure squeezes and strangles moans out of your throat, yet, in the few spare moments when you had come back down to earth, your stomach felt like it dropped at some point along the way. The minute you open your eyes, breathing hard and heavy, your attention catches on to the mess you’ve made. 

Most of Chan’s abdomen is soaked with your juices, his taut torso gleaming with your cum. Droplets of it roll down his side and seep into the sheets below him. From there, the humiliation is quick to ensue. Chan even sees the panic fill your eyes. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” you whine apologetically. “I don’t know what happened! I was - I was caught up in-“

Chan ceases your babbling by grabbing the undersides of your thighs and just about throws you on your back as he moves to top you. His sudden movements catch you off guard, wondering for a moment what he was doing until he started fucking you again. 

“Chris!” you cry out, latching around his back. 

His head buries into the crook of your neck, “wanna feel you do it again. Wanna see you drip down my cock.” 

At his words of request, you knew it was possible with the way that his dick hits deeper, pressing against those sensitive spots inside you that have been milked of pleasure. It’s not difficult to feel it building up again. There’s zero refractory period, allowing you to cum in an uninterrupted procession. At this stage, Chan could just whisper dirty things in your ear and have you become a squirting mess on his bed for him to watch. He wondered if that was actually possible. 

After watching and making you cum an extraordinary amount of times this evening, Chan was about to witness another, this time, mixed with his own release of pleasure. He can never ignore that dense pressure stacking up in his cock, like a blocked pipe that’s about to burst with the help of the tension from your contracting walls. 

One hand at a time, he places each beside your head to lift himself up while still trying to maintain a consistent pace. Then he coils back, grabbing the undersides of your thighs again and leaning some of his weight down so that he can press deeper. 

Tears are pricking your eyes - not from any pain but from pleasure you’ve never felt. It’s so intense and has nowhere in your body to escape that the longer you hold it in, the more explosive it’s going to feel. As your emotions exude the ferocity of another orgasm, Chan absorbs your expressions, giving him a very clear estimate of when you’re about to cum. 

“Gonna give me another one?” he asks even though you’re in no state of mind to give him a verbal answer. “Gonna be a good girl and get my dick wet one last time?” 

You shake your head but only because you’re unsure if you can actually take that pressure that’s about to blow. Regardless of how high he has built your orgasms for you, you always take them well. It has you sobbing - screaming and clutching onto his bedding as you whimper that you’re about to cum. Chan could only just hear you over the sound of his skin slapping against yours. 

“You can do it,” he reassures you. “You always do.” 

At that moment, as if he just flipped a switch inside you, Chan had you gushing in an instant. Your upper body contorts to the left and stiffens as he fucks you right through it, right until his own orgasm slaps him on cue. Grunts mixed with whimpers force their way out from the base of Chan’s throat. His cock uncontrollably spurts his hot white cum, coating liberal amounts on your walls with a few hard, deep thrusts. 

"Fuck, oh my god," he groans through gritted teeth, satisfaction seeping through into his blood.

He pulls back to sit on his heels, looking down as he grabs the base of his cock now slicker than usual with milky, almost transparent liquid rings of white. The fact that both of your juices have mixed together does something to a sick part of Chan’s brain. His lower half is still dripping with your cum, forcing you to shy away into the bunched up sheets when you realise you’ve made another mess on him. 

Too weak to speak up about it, Chan had no trouble reading the room and caught onto your emotions. He was right to assume that you were embarrassed for it but fuck if Chan could experience it all again, he would. That then strikes an idea as he massages your inner thighs with the palms of his hands. 

“That’s never happened before,” he comments with a little bit of surprise, making you turn with embarrassment, all the while trying to ease you back down from your high. “So fucking hot.” 

His thumbs rub into your wet skin, inching closer to your pussy. Before you know it, the backs of his fingertips are brushing over your hole where his cum is leaking out of you. Semi sticky strings of it attach onto him when he pulls away and goes back in to smother it all the way up to your clit. He thumbs softly over the sensitive bud, setting fire again to the muscles in your lower half. 

You shudder a little bit from the faint stimulation, and finally muster the energy to talk, “yeah…d-don’t know how. Usually it’s - mm, just cause’…maybe you were hitting the right spot.”

Chan doesn’t meet your eyes, and by the preoccupied look on his face, it was clear that he had another agenda as his thumb continued to rub mindlessly. Although, he did hear you as he smirked and shook his head. 

“Nah, that was all you,” his mouth falls open slightly as he stares down at where his fingers begin to disappear. 

“Chan…” 

“I reckon you could give me one more,” he predicts as he starts to finger you slowly. “Just one more.”

“Please, fuck...” You whine loudly throughout the room. “D-Don’t think I can…please.” 

Chan moves to the side of you just a little bit, placing his other hand on your lower belly to apply just a little bit of welcoming pressure while he ignores you, “yes you can pretty. Only one.”

His fingers curl deviously inside you, forcing an automatic bodily response for your eyes to roll to the back of your head and back to arch clean off the bed. As he strokes over the spongy area, your fists are clenching on the duvet. Your body is beyond sensitive and squirms uncontrollably at the faintest of his touch. 

“Chris!” You sob, tears now leaking down the sides of your face from the euphoria. 

This was the closest replica to being high. It’s like the pleasure picked up where it left off from the previous orgasm Chan brought to you and nearly doubled in intensity to the point where you thought for a moment that you were going to black out. But it hits you harder than before since his fingers have a bit more precision to find and hit your g-spot rather than making you feel fuller. 

“That’s my good girl,” he says encouragingly. 

There and then, as Chan detects the tell-tale signs that you’re about to cum, he finger fucks you at a generous pace that doesn’t let up on the time your insides have to try mitigate the pleasure. It goes into overdrive, sending a bunch of all the right signals straight to your brain. 

“C-Cum…cumming…I’m-”

Chan appreciates the fact that he’s reduced you from crying and screaming his name to a silent, overstimulated mess. Alternatively, you’re surrendering entirely to the ecstasy which sweeps you under like a current. Chan doesn’t need to hold you in place for you to take what he’s giving you with his fingers. He just gives and gives, and gives until for the third time, he has you squirting. 

“Oh yeah, look at that,” he grins excitedly, watching his palm and all the way up to his forearm become completely drenched in your juices. “What a good girl.”

By that point, Chan was successful in running your body dry. His pace slows down, now gently stroking inside you. Your quiet, strained moans die down, along with a reserve tank of energy you had left. You were limp and helpless, a gorgeous mess on the bed for him to admire. 

Chan slowly takes his fingers out, gently massaging around your sensitive pussy, “fuck, so good."

You turn onto your side, processing all of that. For a few moments before, it felt like you had had an out of body experience, and maybe you were. Everything was so consuming and powerful that for a second you didn’t feel like yourself. But that wasn’t a bad thing, nor did you think of it that way. It’s just a new experience that you welcomed, one that made you feel good multiple times. 

Chan hops off the bed and kneels beside you onto the floor as he strokes and pats your head, “you okay?”

You nod then go to sit up, “mm, just out of it. Give me a few minutes.” 

“You - you shouldn’t move so much, not now at least,” Chan warns, then quickly spots the uncomfortable expression on your face as you realise that everything beneath you is wet and sticky.

“Your duvet,” you say to him, looking down and around at all the large damp areas.

“What about it?” 

“Well it’s all ruined-” 

“They’re not ruined,” he says defiantly like a stubborn child, almost like he was offended you even made that sort of comment. “It looks…fucking hot.”

“Hot,” you repeated with an airy chuckle. 

“I didn’t know you could do that,” says Chan, bewildered. 

“Neither could I to be honest,” you agree wholeheartedly. “It was really…intense and...strange.” 

“Strange?” He retorts. 

“Not a bad ‘strange’, just something I’ve always heard of, but never managed to do with someone else before,” you reply. 

Chan smiles to himself, looking at his bed before that grin drops off his face, “never managed to do it with someone else before? As in, you’ve done it before, just…on your own?” 

You blink up at him, quickly changing the subject, “reckon the others are still out?” 

“I’d imagine so,” he says, still thinking about what you said previously. 

“Hot pot and barbecue sounded so nice too…” you trail off, eyes going in and out of focus. Your body is starting to catch up to you.

“Well, luckily we live in the era of food delivery, right?” He responds confidently. “Let me clean you up first, then we can hop in the shower. After that, I’ll order it in for us, sound good?” 

Sometimes when you’re with Chan, you forget that at the end of the day, he’s one of your good friends and still acts like it after you sleep with him. He knows when to be your fuck buddy and when to be your mate. None of it is awkward or weird and nor does he strive to make it that way. 

Potentially it’s because of his nature to be a gentleman inside the bedroom just as much as he is outside, hence why you had a considerate amount of gratitude towards him for not being an ass like some of the people you’ve hooked up with or seen casually in the past. But that could never be the two people you slept with a few weeks back. 

Not Hyunjin nor Jisung, whom you’ve thought about ever since that night at his apartment. Although it was truth or dare that led you all to the events that unfolded, you would’ve still slept with them anyway without the game. Just thinking about the two of them makes you miss them. Makes you miss the way that they touched you. 

It was a different feeling to how Chan normally touches you. With him, he’s a friend with benefits. Someone who can call you or you can call him whenever either of you need each other. As a result, there isn’t going to be anything fond or loving between the pair of you - which you’re more than happy with. You made that clear to Chan at the start that you weren’t looking to enter into a relationship with him at any stage if that’s what he was thinking. 

Thankfully, he wasn’t either. 

But when Hyunjin and Jisung touched you, it was surreal. Almost natural, like they were meant to feel you that way and only them. That was the difference between them and Chan, not that you were comparing them since you saw them in separate positive lights.

There was just something about those two that left a strong imprint on your brain, something you can’t scratch without them…

I strictly forbid and do not permit ANYONE or any user on any platform to copy, re-upload, translate, remake, or pass off any of my work here on Tumblr or to any other online platform whatsoever. Doing so will result in having your account suspended, deleted, taken down, and or permanently banned.

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader

[yourmidnightlover]

Xavier x Reader piece where reader saw Bianca leaving Xavier’s dorm and assumes they’re back together after Xavier & reader would flirt here and there. Reader begins to ignore him and he’s confused as to why… idk could be cute, could be smutty just a random thought

SO CUTE AGHHH

rumors

pairing: xavier thorpe x fem!reader

summary: reader noticed xavier pulling away and tried to talk to him about it when she sees bianca barclay leaving his room looking more than satisfied.

warning: !not proofread! read the request ig, i also did add smut, oral (fem receiving), unprotected piv, VERY soft sex bc i’m a softy myself :)

a/n: i tried to follow the request as much as possible, and i hope i did it justice! i’m also so so sorry for the tardiness of the post, even though there isn’t a specific deadline or anything. i’m working my way through my requests and my series! i want to make sure everything has at least a half decent plot <3

you weren’t stupid. you had heard the rumors. those rumors being that xavier and bianca were back together.

now, you had also thought that wasn’t true. you and xavier had hung out on many, many occasions, going as far as you you ending up on his lap during a heated make out session. so, maybe you just assumed it wasn’t true.

but it was more than flirting and kissing with you. it was conversations about constellations and religion. it was cuddling until 1 am in his room because you didn’t want to be apart from each other. it was falling asleep on the phone for a few days when weems nearly caught you. it was more.

or was it all in your head?

it had been nearly 9 months since xavier and bianca had broken up. he seemed content with the breakup, mostly unaffected by it aside from his trust issues spiking like no other.

bianca, on the other hand, seemed furious. maybe about the breakup, maybe about seeing you with him. either way, she was mad and it seemed to involve xavier.

the past few weeks he had seemed distant. he wouldn’t call you as much. there were significantly less cuddle sessions. he wouldn’t kiss you as often. you know he doesn’t technically need to do those things. it��s not a requirement, you aren’t in a relationship or anything, but you missed it like no other.

so, when you were headed to his room to talk about everything and saw bianca leaving his room, you hid behind a pillar before she saw you. but you saw her. you saw her with that smirky smile on her face.

you basically knew what that meant. now, you knew why he was being so distant. bianca and xavier were probably going to get back together. he was going to leave you in the dust.

like any logical person, you decided that instead of letting him abruptly cut you out of his life, you would cut him out first.

this world is a kill or be killed, hurt or be hurt world. you were already hurt, but you definitely didn’t want to end up dead. yet.

“hey, y/n,” he called to you in the hallway as you were walking to your next class that you happened to have with him. “y/n,” he jogged to catch up with you. you didn’t even look his way. “hey, so i was wondering what you were doing later on today?” his shoulder nudged your own, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “y/n?”

you continued to walk to class, not even bothering to look up at the gorgeous smile that you were sure was beginning to fade. you sat in the back of the class, where there was no seat beside you, instead of sitting in your rightful seat beside xavier.

the one time you mustered up the courage to look at him during class, he had this puzzled look on his face as he was doodling something he would normally show you once he was done.

“hey,” enid sat beside you in your next class with a worried tone. “ajax and i were talking, and he said that xavier is confused about you. well, more confused about why you’ve been ignoring him? and i know it’s not really any of my business, but i was just wondering if you were okay? because you can always talk to me no matter what! off the record, too!”

“enid,” you smiled as she looked at you expectedly. “i’m okay… or, i’ll be okay. i just realized some things and now i’m dealing with the repercussions the best i know how. but if it ever becomes too much, i know who to come to,” she smiled as you did the same before running back to her desk beside ajax.

you knew she cared about you. but you also knew that she cannot keep her mouth shut. you love that about her, but it also means you have to be careful what you tell her. you know you made the right decision as you hear her loudly whisper:

“she said she’s okay and that she realized some things, but i dunno, jax! i guess she might need some space?”

you chuckled to yourself as the teacher began the lesson. she was a lovely girl, only doing what she thought was best for her friends.

the next day, it happened at dinner.

you had avoided his table at all costs, not even glancing at him as you saw him trying to wave you down out of the corner of your eye. you sat down at an empty table near the trash cans, one that nobody really wanted to even sit at and began eating quickly so you could leave.

your lunch was cut short when he plopped down beside you. you waited a few seconds, ignoring whatever came out of his mouth before standing. you muttered a small, ‘not that hungry,’ before tossing your food in the trash and making your way to your room.

“y/n,” he was rapidly knocking on your door. “y/n, let me in! i don’t know what’s going on but you have got to stop ignoring me,” there was a moment of silence where you contemplated opening the door, but all you could see was the look on bianca’s face showing you all you needed to know. “please open the door.”

it was when you heard footsteps walking away that you let the tears that you didn’t know were building fall freely. hunched over at your desk, sobbing into your hands, you let yourself truly feel what you had pushed down for days.

you truly fell for this guy over the past few months of knowing him. while you hated not talking to him, you knew it would hurt more if you let yourself stay attached only for him to break things off sooner rather than later.

it had been maybe fifteen minutes if you letting yourself sob into your hands when you heard a rapping at your window. you turned to see xavier, standing outside with his hands shoved in his pockets as he shivered in the cold.

“please, let me in, y/n,” his eyes were pleading with you. you never should’ve met them. “let me in.”

with a huff, you walked to the window and unlocked it, grabbing onto his arm to help guide him in. in all of the time you had been hanging out, he had never been so desperate as to climb up the fire escape to see you.

“what the hell, thorpe?” you scolded him, knowing he hated when you called him by his last name. “you’re an idiot.”

“yea, i might be an idiot,” he nodded as he sighed, adjusting to the warmer environment in spite of how cold you had been to him. “but i’m not the one that’s been ignoring my best friend for days.”

“you’re kidding, right?” you scoffed as you went to sit down on the edge of your bed. “i wasn’t sure you’d even notice, let alone care.”

“why the hell would i not care?” he threw his hands up in defeat as he began pacing back and forth in front of you. “god, do you not get that i care about you? you’re my best friend. of course i’ll notice and care when you ice me out!”

“you did it first!” you pointed your finger accusingly at him before taking a deep breath. “you stopped hanging out with me. you would barely come over. you barely even… god i sound like a moron.”

“i barely even what?” he froze at looked longingly at you as he awaited your answer.

“you barely even kiss me anymore,” you opted to avoid his gaze by finding interest in your own hands. “and i was going to talk to you about it a few nights ago when i saw bianca walking out of your dorm. and believe me, she looked more than satisfied so don’t worry about your own performance.”

“is that…” he was lost in thought before something clicked in his head. “you thought that her and i…” his brows rose insinuatingly.

“of course, i did!” you felt the tears well in your eyes again. “and i felt… i felt stupid. and i felt used. and then it made sense, why you stopped talking to me as much and why you were distancing yourself. it clicked. because you want to get back together with her.”

“y/n, i-“

“let me finish!” you snapped. “you owe me that much. you could’ve at least told me! you could’ve told me we weren’t going anywhere before i fucking fell for you! god, i don’t know if it was a game for you to see how many ‘bitches’ you could pull or what, but i don’t-“

his lips were on your own. his hands were cupping your face and his lips were kissing you passionately. your hands went to his wrists, almost to keep him there before you remembered why he had to kiss you to shut up.

“thorpe-“

“i love you,” he pressed his forehead against your own with a sorry look on his face. “she’s been trying to get back at me since the breakup. then, she noticed how i much i cared about you. she figured out how i felt and told me to stop doing… what we were doing or she would tell you. i didn’t think you’d feel the same way. i thought you would be freaked out by the fact that i was in love with you. i’m so, so sorry.”

you lightly pressed your lips to his, only for a short moment. “you could’ve told me, xay.”

“i’m realizing that now,” he smiled softly. “let me make it up to you?”

you nodded your head, “and how did you plan on doing that?”

“well,” he lifted you up by your ass, gently scooting you up on your bed. “before she blackmailed me, i was being distant because i was planning something very, very nice for you,” he began kissing down your neck, his hands now trailing up and down your body leaving goosebumps in their wake. “something romantic,” he sucked harshly on the spot that drove you crazy before one hand shot to his hair, the other going to his shoulder to draw him closer. “something a bit nicer for what i really, really want to do with you,” he emphasized with a gentle bite to your earlobe. “to you,” you moaned at that one, grinding up on his thigh that was between your legs.

“xavier,” you whimpered. “i want you… please?” he pressed his leg further into your core leading to you throwing your head back, giving him more of your neck to work with.

“let me take my time,” he worked his hands underneath your shirt, looking up at you for permission before you helped him throw it over your head. you tugged at his own shirt with a smirk.

“mmkay,” you nodded as he kissed up your stomach, sucking and nibbling on your skin to mark you more than he already had. “missed you so much, xay. missed you so much.”

“me too, love,” you lifted your chest as he unclasped your bra. “i missed you too,” once he disregarded the bra, he began to eagerly suckle on one of your breasts. he carefully teased the nipple with his tongue, letting his hand massage the neglected one, his fingers gently pinching your nipples just the same.

“please,” you continued to hump his thigh eagerly as he continued to switch his actions to the alternate breast. “please do more?”

“whatever you want,” he smiled before pulling at the waistband of your skirt. you lifted your hips to help him pull both the skirt and underwear down your legs. “so fucking perfect. and all mine,” his fingers danced around your pelvis before he got of the bed, putting your thighs over his shoulders to drag you to the edge, a laugh leaving your mouth.

“all yours, xay,” you smiled as he began to toy with the bundle of nerves at your center. “oh my god. that feels so… so good,” your hand was now playing with his hair, the other grasping his shoulder tightly. “i think you should know,” you huffed out a breath as his lips wrapped around your center. “oh fuck. shit, please keep going,” he let a finger slowly enter your center. “oh my god.”

“are you sure?” he momentarily stopped before you guided his head back to your center, nodding eagerly as your head swung back once more.

“i’m so fucking sure,” his tongue was gently massaging your clit excellently. with each tug and take your fingers did to his hair, another moan left his mouth. the vibrations worked their way through your entire body, making you feel everything.

“god, i can’t believe we’ve never done this. i think-oh fuck-i think i’m close. please don’t stop!” your thighs began to clamp over his head as your hips rutted against his mouth. “xavier! holy shit,” you had to pull him away by his shoulders.

“you like?” he chuckled as he pressed his lips to your own. he felt you continue to grind against his leg before you pressed your hand against his bulge to massage it. “y/n,” his forehead dropped to your own.

“i wanna do this with you,” your free hand went to cup his cheek. “only if you want to, of course. but you have my full, enthusiastic consent for all of it,” it was your smile that convinced him.

“i don’t-i don’t have any-“

“just don’t use one,” you pleaded. “i’ve been on the shot for a little over a year and i’m clean…”

“have i told you how much i love you?” he groaned before you worked your hand under his pants, pulling his hard dick out and stroking it a few times before he kicked his pants off. you lined it up with your center. “i’m gonna go slow, okay?”

“mmkay,” you nodded. “just… please?” he pushed his tip in, leaving your jaw dropped from the intrusion.

your arms went underneath his arms that were beside your head to hold him up, wrapping around his shoulders. you whimpered with each inch he pushed inside of you, your nails digging into his skin.

“jesus christ, you’re so tight,” he groaned as he bottomed out inside of you. “holy fuck.”

“uh huh,” you nodded. “feels like… your in my stomach,” your whines were filling his ears. “please move? please?”

his hips began to piston in and out of you. with each thrust, a symphony of moans we’re pulled from your throat. he pulled back to look at you lovingly, letting one of his hands cup your face before he pressed a kiss to your lips. he used this distraction to pick up the pace.

the sounds of his hips hitting your thighs began to resonate throughout your single, your moans only getting louder as you breathed in each others’ air.

he brought the hand that was cupping your face down to your clit, knowing he wouldn’t last much longer. with the way your pussy began to pulsate around his cock, he knew he was close to the edge.

“y/n,” he huffed out, his forehead resting against your own as you nodded.

“i know,” you held onto his arms. “me too. just-just do it inside, please? cum inside of me?”

“yea, yes,” he pressed his lips to yours once more before watching as you fell apart on his cock. your head was thrown back, but your eyes remained on his as he joined you in his own ecstasy.

“oh my god,” you held him closely as your bodies came down from the high. his hands cradled your body tenderly once you were both safely on the ground.

“oh my god is right,” he chuckled as he carefully pulled out, laughing a bit more as you winced from the sensitivity. he got up and went to your bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and dampening it so he could wiped up the mess between your thighs.

“i really do love you,” you smiled up at him as he pulled his shirt over your head. “like a lot,” you both smiled.

“i think you also really love how i made you cum, pretty girl,” a hot blush crawled up your cheeks. “you realize you were just naked underneath me, right?”

“yes!” you shrieked out. “i know that… it’s just-i don’t know. i get-i have the right to be vulnerable after having sex!”

“i know you do,” he smiled as he pulled on his pants, crawling into bed beside you before you opted to simply lay on top of him. “i’m just teasing,” he pressed a kiss to your hairline.

“meanie head,” you grumbled into his bare chest, his warm skin never feeling more comforted by anything.

“you weren’t saying that whe- ow!” you pinched his nipple and began to laugh at his whining. “what the hell?”

“stop teasing,” you said smugly. he could feel your smile against his skin.

“after that?” he scoffed. “i’ve learned my lesson,” he hugged you tighter as you littered light kisses to his chest.

“goodnight, xavier,” you let your chin rest on his chest so you could look at him with the cheesiest grin that’s ever existed.

“i love you,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your lips once more before you laid back down on him.

you fell asleep to the beat of his heart calming your own. he fell asleep to the lull of your soft breath. you both woke up with the warm embrace of your love for the other, which is how it would be from then on out.

#xavier thorpe fanfiction #xavier thorpe hurt/comfort #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe fic #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe fluff #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday #xavier thorpe wednesday #wednesday netflix #netflix #netflix series

[smileysuh]

comfort cuisine - TEASER

🌙 starring. Johnny Suh x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You’ve never felt a feral need like this before, but it’s not necessarily the primal type of drive. Instead, it’s a feeling of wanting to be close to this man- who you’ve been next to for so many years, but unable to touch. Except, he’s touching you now, and you want more.

tw/cw. unprotected sex, breast worship/massaging, big dick Johnny, fingering, pussy stretching prep, 'it's finger licking good,' praise, dirty talk, masturbation, multiple reader orgasms, cumming together, creampie, soft sex, longing, fluff, etc… I pet names: (hers) honey.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 10.8k

🍭 aus. aged up/widower dad!John, best friends to lovers, Chef!John, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I'm so happy that people loved Line Chef Mark in my fic Real Talk, I received so many messages about giving Head Chef John his own love story, and this is what I came up with in the past four months :) it's a little different from what I normally do, but I wanted to continue with that 'slice of life' theme and venture into a plot line I've never tried before with widower/single dad John :)

“So two line chefs called in, huh?” you prompt, tucking your legs up and making room for the large man on the sofa.

“I expected it from Haechan, but Mark’s generally pretty reliable. His girlfriend was on shift today, so I know he wasn’t skipping to be with her- I’m guessing they got pretty messed up last night.”

“They’re young,” you point out, accepting a beer from him. “We used to be young.”

“Used to be,” Johnny laughs, taking a swig of his drink. 

Looking at this man- this father, you realize maybe he never really got the chance to be young. At twenty five, he had a six year old, he wasn't running around blacking out and getting hung over, he was working his way up the employment ladder, dreaming about a better future for his daughter.

“You mentioned Mark has a girlfriend, I think I’ve heard about her a few times now, it’s interesting that she was in and he wasn’t.”

“I’m going to be honest, I love Mark, he’s a great kid- but, he can sometimes be peer pressured into things. Haechan has a hold on Mark unlike any I’ve seen, they bring out… interesting sides of each other.”

You laugh at the description, and it’s clear there’s more on Johnny’s mind, so you wait for him to continue. 

“It’s nice that Mark is young and in love, I can understand that- but at the same time, I just hope he doesn’t make the same mistakes I did. Not that Soonbok is a mistake, of course- I just mean that… life is fragile. You think you’re going to be with someone forever, and then you’re reminded of how frail things can be.”

You frown at his words. Even after all of these years, Johnny still holds so much pain about his lost wife. You want to do your best to help Johnny in every aspect of his life, especially emotional, but this is a topic you never know how to approach. He’s right for grieving, his ex was his first love, his true love- how is there anything you could ever say to make him feel better about her passing?

You open your mouth, only to close it, and Johnny watches you intently. Sometimes he looks at you, the way he’s looking at you right now, and you wonder if he feels the same level of connection with you that you feel with him. You wonder if he wants you to kiss him, if a kiss would make him feel better, if it would - if even for a moment - help him forget about the pains he’s faced in his life.

But it’s because of the pains he’s faced that neither of you can close the distance, you’d like to think about it that way at least. Even after all these years, it’s still too early, so you simply reach out and gently squeeze his hand.

Johnny offers you a smile, and you’re glad that in some small way, maybe you’ve helped him.

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taglist is limited, to ensure a tag please reply, reblog with a comment, or reblog, those who do one of those three options will be prioritized when it comes to posting day

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#johnny suh #johnny suh smut #nct #nct 127 smut #nct smut #johnny nct #johnny nct smut #nct johnny smut

[deathbecomesthem]

Anything We Want

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 3.4K Post season 4, Eddie lives.

Summary: A road trip with The Party is ill timed when a very sudden realization hit both you and Eddie. A lazy summer day at the beach, and the two of you want nothing more than to find a way to find some time alone.

Warnings: Scars are mentioned. Some suggestive scenes. Yearning.

Minors DNI - 18+ Only

A/N: It's almost summer, boys, and I need this.

---

Distracted. It’s been like that for the last few weeks, truth be told, but worse since you felt his eyes rake across your body earlier. Now you know, he wants you as much as you want him. It was unmistakable - the flash of desire in his eyes. When he walked into your bedroom expecting you to be ready for the day at the lake with the kids, instead finding you still soaked from your shower. He stood too long looking at you with your bathrobe tied loosely around your body, hair wet, water rivulets running down your legs, chest, cheeks.

The rest of the world seemed to fade into the background, just you and him seeing. If not for the sound of your front door being thrown open, you’re certain the distance between the two of you would have shrunk until –

“Hey, where are you guys?” It’s Mike. Not just Mike, you’re sure, because it’s too much noise. They’re early, but so is Eddie. Of all the days.

“Uh, I’m coming, hold up.” Eddie’s stumbling over his own feet as he turns to try to head of the boys from barging into your bedroom. You take notice of the red blooming high on his cheeks, because it’s undeniable. The moment happened. You both felt it.

When you enter the kitchen, you find the boys play fighting and digging through your cupboards while Eddie sits at the kitchen table with a glass of water. He’s unusually quiet. You’ve got your bag packed, and you push past Dustin to get into the fridge to get the sandwiches you made last night for everyone.

“Are we all ready? Suits on? Towels? Sunscreen?” You answer is a chorus of yes moms. You hate the nickname. It’s why they still use it. You can’t help the way you want everyone to be happy, be safe. How could you not after everything?

“Eddie –“ he starts, his name pulling him out of the daydream he was having. You know what he’s thinking about, his hand on your skin, his mouth on your neck, your smell in his nose, you’ve got to bring him out of that, “You ready to get going?”

He clears his throat, knocks back the rest of the water, and nods. “Let’s get moving, everyone’s gonna wonder what’s taking so long.” His attempt to save face, act like he wasn’t the reason everyone was still standing around waiting to leave, brings out smirk on your face.

The boys are shoving and pushing their way through the front door, you yell at their backs, “you little shits pile in the back, I’m riding shotgun,” they all groan in response to your demand. They’ll concede, but it’s easier for them to know the score before they even try it.

“How are we doing, Ed?” You loop your elbow in his while you steer him to the door, “do you need me to drive? You seem a little out of it.”

Your good natured and knowing ribbing seems to give him the courage he may have otherwise lacked. As you step to move your way through the front door, he pulls you back and pins you against the wall – out of sight of the rest of the crew.

He touches your still damp hair, rubbing it between his fingers. “What have you done to me?” As if you’ve done anything, you have no response to the question. You see the crease in his brow, the concern. He’s questioning his feelings, and it makes sense. You both have become something of parent figures for the kids in the last few months. So much pain and loss, you and Eddie have been the constants for them. You two are an unlikely duo, for so many reasons, but you’ve worked so hard to be consistent for everyone. Mutual sacrifice and mutual dependence on each other. This is the first time either of you have really looked at each other.

“What are you doing to me, Ed?” Your eyes are searching his. His lips are parted, as if he has something to say. Your mouths are drawn together, as if each set is magnetized to attract the other. His nose is rubbing against your own as he angles his mouth to meet you, the heat of his breath fanning across your lips –

*Hooooonk* *Hoooooooooonk* The sound of the horn from Eddie’s van has you jumping apart from one another. Two heads shaking away the fog of desire. What is going on with you two?

“I’m gonna kill those little assholes.” Eddie grabs the cooler and beach bag before slipping on a pair of flip flops at the door. He looks like a dad ready for vacation in his self-altered jean shorts while the bottoms of his sandals slap against the soles of his feet with every step. You feel giddy watching him like this. It’s a rare thing, Eddie being comfortable enough to shed his leather, his second skin, and you wonder when it happened. When he decided you were safe. It must have been when I wasn’t paying attention.

The sounds of Eddie berating Mike Wheeler can be heard over the roar of the van’s engine starting, and the blare of Iron Maiden cranking over the speakers. You grab your sunglasses and keys, before stepping into the heat of the summer day. You take your time locking the door, thinking about how just a moment ago you were lost in a moment with Eddie.

The vinyl passenger’s seat in the van sticks to your skin the moment you make contact with it, you turn to see your driver for the day’s adventure, ignoring the sounds of teenage boys bickering in the backseat. “Ready, Eddie?” You give him your best smile, and this time when he smiles back, you see that flush return to his cheeks.

“Born ready, baby.” His cheesy grin and teasing tone succeed in making you laugh hard enough to let out an indelicate snort. You feel giddy when he throws the van in reverse and slaps his hand against the steering wheel.

With the windows rolled down, the warm summer air beats against your arm as it hangs out of the window. You don’t mind the heat, the warm embrace welcome after the cold winter and spring at the edge of hell. The beach has been calling to you, and Eddie answered it by providing a reason to leave.

“I feel like this place is going to suffocate me,” you’d spent the first half of your day working at the community center and the last half sat at a desk at city hall fielding phone calls concerning revitalization plans for Hawkins.

Eddie sat with his legs splayed in front of him, tray of weed on the table in front him while you lay flat on the shag carpet of your parents’ living room, fingers weaving between the pieces of soft material.

“We can’t have that, you’re too important.” He’s concentrating on his task at hand, providing you with something to keep the nightmares at bay. It’s been bad, and like he said, you’ve become important to the community. It was unfair and exhausting.

“So, I guess running away would be considered bad form on my part, hm?” You angle your neck up to catch his reaction to your thought. You almost felt like if he told you to, you’d pick yourself off the floor and run out into the night, getting lost somewhere without the constant ringing of a telephone. Without the desperate needs of so many broken people filling your mind.

“No, probably not a great idea,” he sees your face fall, and it pings his heart, because he knows it’s not fair. He wants nothing more than to tell you to fuck this place and run off, but he’s on the list of the people that need you, “well, not a good permanent idea. How about for a day?”

It hadn’t taken much for you to be excused from your work for a day. Your boss and the volunteer coordinator could see the exhaustion on your face dragging your features lower with each passing moment. You weren’t just a hard worker, you’d lost everything and turned your pain into a gift for everyone around you instead of wallowing in your grief.

Right now, with the wind whipping through the cab of the van, the boys in the back laughing, Eddie drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, you feel alive. More alive than you have in a long time. The hours on the road move languidly, you spend the time watching the way the curls move with the air. The way the muscles of the arms flex with each turn of the wheel. The way lips move in sync with the words sung by the musicians on the cassettes playing in the tape deck.

He catches you several times, and you feel no shame. There has already been an unspoken acknowledgement between the two of you. Now that you could see, there was no going back. His eyes were better used on the road in front of him, but you could see him trace along the curve of your neck when you used a finger to draw your attention to the places you want him to kiss when you get some time alone.

It’s the crunching of gravel under the van’s tires that draws you back into the present moment. The halting of the brakes, the wind no longer moving his hair around his head. The sparkling sun high in the sky. You could hear the waves and you knew that as soon as you crossed over the top of the dunes, the wind across the lake would cool your skin already dampened with sweat.

You hand the heavy load of beach items to the 3 younger boys and share the task of carrying a couple of umbrellas with Eddie. You’re both slow, letting the boys get ahead and pick their spot. Even now, you’re both too caught up in each other, stealing looks and grins while your sandaled feet sink into the soft sand of the path laid out before you.

“How long do you think they’ll keep us here today?” Eddie’s asking, but his eyes are pleading with you. You haven’t even found a spot yet, and he’s already ready to shake the rest of them off his back. As if it wasn’t his idea to bring them along in the first place.

“Oh, I think we have at least a good 6 hours out here, Ed.” You knock your shoulder into his, “remember I packed lunch and dinner for us. You insisted we take our time and not rush back home.”

He answers you with a resigned groan, “I’m just full of great ideas,” he stops and turns you. Sweat was already beading on his neck, and under the bangs that hid his forehead, you’re sure. Without thinking, you reach into a pocket and pull out a hairband. On tiptoes, you reach up and tie his hair back into a low bun, hoping it provides him with some relief. It’s not until you look back into his face that you see the expression of yearning he has as he takes in your look of concentration.

This is bad. Unbelievably bad. The kids would pick up on this before you and Eddie even know what’s happening. You need to find a way to cool his jets, and your own, before you find the boys’ spot on the beach.

“Eddie, you can’t keep looking at me like that.” Your own eyes are pleading with him now.

“I can’t help it.” Exhaling a sigh, he brings a ring clad hand to his face, raking it down from forehead to neck as if he could wipe away the need he has written all over it. “Sorry, I’ll try. Stop being so fucking sexy and maybe we’ll get through this in one piece.”

Without letting you respond, he jogs ahead of you. He thinks I’m sexy. The thought alone makes you feel lighter and taller. The thought alone sets your skin on fire, and you’re sure you’ll both burn before the sun sets on the lake today.

Coming over the hill you see Eddie making his way to the spot, a little way from the shore. Robin, Nancy, and El should be here soon. The family. Your only family.

Towels are lain on the soft ground, umbrellas create a blanket of shadow, and you are opening the big beach bag that holds snacks, water, cans of soda, and sunscreen. You line the boys up in a row and help them get their hard to reach places before shooing them away from you. Eddie’s up last, and you can see the hesitancy he has as he reaches down and pulls his faded Metallica t shirt over his head.

He’s pretty, ink speckled skin with the still red scars scattered across his torso. You focus on the work, taking care to spread a thicker layer of lotion over the scars and his tattoos. The spots that are most sensitive to the harsh rays of the summer sun. His breath is ragged while you run your hands across his sensitive skin. You make mental notes of the places where the brush of your fingers makes his breath catch in his throat. For later.

“Hey!” Robin’s shouts from down the beach pull your thoughts back to the present, again, and you give Eddie a soft slap on the back indicating you’re done with him for the moment.

“Go play with your kids, I’ll be here.” You can feel the girls getting closer while Eddie stands stock still in his spot looking at you. His breath is still heavy, his chest flushed, and it’s enough to send a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

“Promise? I’m afraid if I take my eyes off you, you’ll disappear.” His brows are knitted together, and you understand what he’s feeling. Like this might slip away from both of you if you let it. You give him a half shy grin and nod just as El barrels herself into your back for a sneak attack hug.

He’s off, with a wave backwards, he runs down to the edge of the water. The new additions set up their own spots next to your own, while you watch Eddie and Will wrestle in the wet sand at the water’s edge.

The hours drift by lazily, the water is too cold for you to spend more than a few moments at a time letting it cool your too hot body. The heat of the sun dries your skin quickly, pieces of sand stuck to every piece exposed to summer air. Today, this is the only place that exists. Everything else has fallen away, it’s just you with your toes dug deep into the cool sand.

It’s late afternoon when you catch him staring again. Nancy and Robin are in the water, splashing each other while the rest toss a giant beach ball back and forth trying to keep it from getting caught in the wind. Your paper fan doing its best against the heat. You give up and grab some ice out of the cooler sat next to you, running it along your collarbone and up the back of your neck. When you look up, Eddie is standing a few yards away, apparently frozen by the scene in front of him. He’s watching you, and now you’re watching him back. You close the fan and rest it against your forehead while you dip the ice, down the valley of your chest.

“Not fair.” He throws his hands up in the air in frustration, while you laugh. He’s approaching slowly, looking over his shoulder to ensure that no one’s coming up behind him. “You’re doing this on purpose, and I fucking know it.” He’s standing over you, casting the shadow of his form across your body. You think, you wish, it was his own body draped across you right now.

“I don’t know what you mean. It’s hot, Eddie.” You bat your lashes at him, and he throws his body down next to you. He’s all arms and legs most of the time, and now is no different. The rest of the group is distracted, and he takes the opportunity to drape his chest, sticky with sweat across your own. As if he read your mind just a moment ago. It could be read as his typical playful wrestling, Eddie could always be counted on to make any of his friends his unsuspecting victims.

His hands find your sides, and he squeezes firmly, not a tickle. His face mouth is close to your ear, and he barely whispers, “I can’t wait until I can spend some time alone with you.” You feel his desire pushing against the outside of your thigh, and you gasp a little. You can see Mike look back over to the two of you, and you wiggle under him as a warning.

“Eddie.” You huff out as his nose nuzzles at your neck. He breathes you in deeply before adjusting his shorts and climbing off of you before he lumbers back down the beach.

The sun is a little lower in the sky now, and you know it’s time to start a fire, it will be no time before all of the gear is packed back up and everyone drags their tired bodies back to the parking lot. So, you get to work. And Nancy joins you, her eyes watching your face more than you’re comfortable with. She’s always been more perceptive than you appreciate, she always knows what you’re thinking.

You work silently with your closest friend. She lets you keep your secret. You call the rest over and settle in, it’s an easy beach dinner that takes no real effort to setup. Each person with a metal roasting fork for their hotdogs, with sun kissed cheeks and sand dusted legs. Your eyes can’t stop watching him, though. You’re both devouring each other with your eyes while the rest of the group devours their dinners.

Nancy must know, because she does something you never would have expected when the meal is over and everyone begins slowly clearing away their garbage. You might be the mom of the group, but Nancy is the manager. Nancy knows how to get everyone working together, she knows how to run an efficient ship.

“Hey, everyone,” she’s slapping her hands together to get the attention of Dustin and Mike – they started an argument about something you couldn’t even begin to comprehend – “you two, hey! Mike, Dustin, and Will are all riding back with us, we’re gonna squeeze in, and everything else can go in Eddie’s van. You’re all spending the night at my house anyway, and I’m sure those two won’t mind a quiet ride back after dragging your annoying asses out here for the day.”

The way she orders everyone around brokers no room for argument, and she gives nothing away about her true intentions. You could kiss her, but that would remind everyone that Eddie only lives a little ways from the Wheeler’s and Nancy’s plan doesn’t completely make sense, so you just shrug in agreement and try to tamp down the adrenaline surge coursing through your body. Your mind flashing to scenes of lips on lips, hands roaming across sweaty skin, your teeth sinking into the meat of his shoulder –

“Hey, you with me?” Eddie’s standing next to you now while you watch El and Will dragging the cooler down the beach. You’ve been standing here too long, lost in thought. He must have said something.

“Sorry, too much sun. What’s up?” His cheeks are tinted pink and you feel guilty for not telling him to add more sun screen at some point. He’ll be sore tomorrow.

“I said, let’s get the van loaded up, get them on the road, and we can, uh, stay for a little while. You and me?”

You put your arm through his elbow, something you do often, and you lead each other behind the rest of the gang. As they climb the top of the hill, and the tops of their heads disappear behind the dune, you stop in your tracks.

“Look, Ed.” You draw his attention back to the water. The sun’s slow descent in the western sky turning the water to a deeper blue, almost black color. It’s then that you decide, while the others load up the van, that this is alone enough. You draw his mouth to your own and close the gap between you. A prelude to the evening ahead. To the days and months ahead.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #Spotify

[glennrheesworld]

hiii! I love your writing so much <3

(s2 e4) when Glenn is getting ready to go to the pharmacy with Maggie, fem!reader goes and tells Glenn what she needs and Maggie gets jealous bc of how close they got.

thank you! :D

𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮~

genre: fluff

pairing: Glenn Rhee x fem!reader

summary: reader and Glenn got pretty close over the past few days, making Maggie jealous.

warnings: mention of jealousy

a/n: aww tysm anon! 😚kisses btw I've been very busy with school so I haven't had much time to work on other requests, hopefully, I'll post more next month!

The past few days, after having found the Greene’s Farm, both Glenn and you had gotten pretty close. Feelings growing over the times you’ve bonded with him over random little things or through moments you’ve shared together.

If you were honest, you had fallen for him a bit. Or maybe a lot. Either way, he was everything you wished for in a partner.

You and Glenn had spent a lot of time together; so much that everyone in the group could tell how much you both liked each other. It was nice, seeing two people bonding and falling love in the middle of a damn apocalypse. That was what everyone thought. Everyone but Maggie Greene.

The way she would glare at you after you talked to Glenn made you a bit nervous. You could just tell she hates your guts for getting to Glenn first. But there was still a possibility that she could get her chance of winning him over. Not if you kept Glenn interested.

— — —

Maggie and Glenn were getting ready to go on a run to a pharmacy nearby. You had been wanting some basic necessities that you haven’t been able to get your hands on. So this was perfect. All you had to do was make a quick list of the items and give it to Glenn.

You spot them both getting the horses’ saddles on their back, tightening the straps. So you ran up to Glenn with your list, written on a cute Post-it.

“Hey, Glenn!” You shout his name, getting closer to him as he turns his attention to you. Just at the sight of you makes a smile tug at the corner of his lips. The same smile you dearly love. A smile made just for you to see.

“Hey,” he utters breathlessly, your presence taking his breath away. You smile back at him, fidgeting with the Post-it in your hands as you stare into each other's eyes. “Um, I made a short list of some items I need.”

He nods, listening to you. His full attention was on you and that only made your heart race. “So, if you don’t mind, could you get them for me?” You tilt your head, biting your bottom lip as you ask him.

You hand him the list before tucking your hands in the back pocket of your jeans. “Yeah, yeah, sure.” He scans the list, smiling down at it. “Anything for you,” he blurts out, making you let out a short laugh.

Your gaze falls to the grass, smiling as he lets out a shy chuckle. “Thanks, Glenn.” He pats the back of his head, pulling down on the cap he always wore. He just nods, grinning, his eyes staring at your beautiful face. Oh, how he wishes he could kiss you and tell you how much he loves you.

“Are you coming or not?” Maggie’s Southern voice interrupts Glenn’s thoughts and that short moment you shared. Causing you to turn around, just to find her on her horse. Her eyes were only on Glenn, not wanting to spare you a glance. Not that you wanted her to.

Sensing her jealously, you sigh and ignore her. Your gaze falls back on Glenn, who by the way, isn't aware of the tension between you and her. “Be safe out there,” you remind him, your voice laced with gentleness all while staring into his eyes.

Maggie can’t help but roll her eyes, hating the way Glenn stared into your eyes. At that moment, she really wished it was her instead of you. She ends up turning her head to look away, her brows slightly furrowed. “So?”

Her jealousy was obvious, so much that it irritated you. Can’t she get it? Glenn and you were obviously interested in each other and maybe as well made for each other. However, this didn't stop her from making moves on Glenn. Somehow, he fails to see the obvious signs Maggie gives him.

Honestly, it made you feel bad for her.

Glenn breaks his loving gaze from yours to glance up at Maggie. “Oh, right. Yeah.” He shakes his head as he folds your Post-it and carefully places it inside his bag, not wanting to lose it.

He gets on his horse looking down at you as he fixes his cap, his short dark hair peeking out a bit. “I’ll come back.” His lips form a sheepish smile, “Uh, with your necessities.” He adds on. You really loved the way he stared at you, his eyes full of admiration and love.

“I’ll see you then,” you wave at him, starting to walk backward slowly, careful not to fall. “Yeah,” he turns around, patting the horse's head as it snorts, just making Glenn jump a little. You smile at the small interaction before he begins to make his way behind an annoyed Maggie.

#twd imagine #twd x reader #glenn rhee imagine #glenn rhee x reader #rick grimes #carl grimes #the walking dead #thank you for requesting! #ily anon #twd fanfiction #twd fluff

[thatone-brightstar]

Paint stained kisses -Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader-

a/n: Everyone say thank you to the sweet @beebslebobs for the idea on this oneshot that was originally just an insta post from my TB & TF universe!

Here's a little sweetness to alleviate the chest pains that chapter 10 may have caused on some of you. It's part of the same story, but it can totally be read separately if you'd like

BUT if you haven't read it and you wanna… here’s the link to that:

The Bear & The Fox -Carmy Berzatto x Fem! Reader-

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: Your and Carmy's day off.

WARNINGS: Smut ahead, oral sex (female receiving), p in v, dirty talk if you squint, reader is on birth control but isn't mentioned (wrap it up IRL tho), minors DNI but you'll do what you want so don't say I didn't warn you.

“That was the worst french toast I’ve had, like, ever…” You groan, kicking your soaked sneakers to the side as soon as Carmy throws the door open.

“My eggs Benedict were pretty good.” He answers from behind. 

You roll your eyes with your back to him and scoff. “Obviously, sis wouldn’t dare serve you something awful.” You turn to your boyfriend, a mocking smile curled on your lips. “‘Anything else I can get you, chef? I can also offer you something that isn’t on the menu…’ wink, wink.” 

The exaggerated kissing noises you make towards him pull a chuckle from his chest as he combs his fingers through the wet strands of hair. You roll your eyes again and pad to his speaker, soon filling the room with the soft notes of an instrumental song. The warmth of his hands brush over the sides of your waist and rest delicately over your navel as his chest presses to your back, causing the moisture of his sweater to transfer onto yours.

“So, what I understand is you’re jealous someone was hitting on me?” Carmen whispers between soft kisses on the valley of your shoulder.

“No, I’m jealous your food was better than mine-” You answer, swatting his hands away and earning another soft laugh that fills your ears with joy as you walk into his room.

You’ve grown used to the lovely sound, more common the longer you spent by his side, as if the walls he held up were slowly chipping away with your constant presence. You softly hum to the music from his stereo while you rummage through the drawer that holds a few shirts you’ve hauled to his place in the past couple weeks. 

He had emptied it out after finding your things bunched up and wrinkled inside your backpack by the sofa. You found it completely adorable when, in search of a shirt of his to sleep in, instead you found your own clothes - neatly folded in perfect squares- occupying the first drawer in his closet. He didn’t mention it and neither did you. Knowing Carmy and his silent acts of love, mentioning it would only shy him back into his shell and the progress you had made over the months of going out was something you weren’t willing to lose.

You pull out a blue washed out ‘The Original Beef of Chicagoland’ shirt that still smells like his body wash and pull it over your chest, then a pair of shorts and some socks to pad around his cold floor while taking out your supplies from the waisted tote bag inside your backpack. You only have a month or two until the showing and even though it might seem like enough time, to you it wasn’t. Every time you tried to concentrate on an idea for your set, your mind would go blank, thoughtless and frustratingly empty. You could blame it on the prospect of a deadline, maybe painter’s block, but you knew it was more than that.

You’ve used painting as an outlet all your life. Most of your favorite works came from a place of hurt, anger and most times sadness. But now they had all been shoved into a corner and replaced by a sense of calm and overall happiness and while you’re glad most of the dark thoughts have left, now it was harder to conjure up any idea that seemed good enough to be presented in front of hundreds of people.

You rub your face in frustration and pull your hair out of your eyes into a bun, then drop criss-crossed by the window of Carmy’s room, acrylics, brushes and sketchbooks flooding the floor. The gentle lull of the chords mix with the shuffling from the kitchen and a smile forms on your face as the source of your lack of inspiration walks into the room, shirtless and cradling a bowl of diced fruit in his hand.

“Here.” Carmy mumbles softly, passing the bowl to you and leaning down to place a gentle kiss over your hair.

You take it, mumbling a quiet ‘Thanks’ through your smile and pop a piece of the tangy peach in your mouth before setting it on his nightstand.

“How’s the brainstorming coming along?” He takes a seat in front of you, back leaning against his bed and lighting a cigarette.

Without answering, you stretch your arm to him, sketchbook in hand and stare mesmerized as he flips through the pages, lit tube dangling from rosy lips. You keep taking bites off the savory fruit to avoid biting your lip instead because the view in front of you is just that fucking good. Baby blues flicker towards you without bothering to lift his head and the way your legs twitch trying to close has a smirk forming over the cig.

“What?” You say defensively.

“Nothin’.” He accentuates with a raise of his brows. “What’s wrong with these?” He asks, giving you the book back turned to a page harboring a few sketches of the sea, shore and shells.

“They’re not good enough…” You admit, tracing your finger over the print his thumb left when it smudged the charcoal. “They don’t make me feel anything- art’s supposed to make you feel something. How can I call myself an artist if it doesn’t stir anything in me!?”

“Hey-” He puts out the smoke on the ashtray over his night stand and scoots to you, making a space for you between his arms. The heat of his naked chest and compression of his arms do wonders to dull out the rising pounding inside. “You’re overthinking it. Maybe take some time off… what do you do when you’re frustrated?”

“...paint.”

Carmy gives you a small snort, genuine and lighthearted, that blows a few wild strands of hair and has you looking up to his glowing face with a tiny grin. You suck the corner of your lip in concentration, the angle in which he has you cradled can only be described as holy. Strong jaw and nose angle perfectly into your line of vision and you have to refrain yourself from kissing the soft tip of it multiple times.

“How ‘bout you make one of those abstract paintings? Let the brush guide you- or whatever-”

“I could paint you…” The words escape your lips the second they materialize in your head.

He pulls his head back slightly, brows drawn up in confusion. “What, like one of your french girls?” 

“No!” You manage to answer through a fit of giggles that you’d be ashamed to let out if you hadn’t gotten so comfortable with him already. “Paint on you, as in over you.”

You strain your neck up to catch his lips in yours, the stubble that covers his chin scratching over your tender skin. He smiles into the kiss, very well feeling your intentions of trying to distract him with what you know he likes the most: you.

“It’ll help…” Sultry breath fans his lips and clouds his thoughts with the taste of peaches, fresh and sweet. “Yeah?”

Carmy can only nod, still hooked on the taste of your lips and the stretch of your smile when you get your way. He groans when you pull away, goosebumps rising over the exposed flesh of his chest as you move to take his pillow and sheet from the bed and place it over the ground, beside his legs. He sighs, but obliges anyway, unhooking his stiff thighs and laying belly flat over the hard ground.

“Can’t we do this on the bed?” He speaks over the soft material of the silk pillow sheets you had bought solely for him.

“I don’t wanna get paint on the bed.” You shrug. “Don’t move, it’s gonna tickle a bit…”

The first stroke of the brush gives him chills as the cold paint glides over uncharted territory. He finds it strange, but not uncomfortable and once he gets used to it, it even feels calming. Your soft hums to the tune of the music, the rain pattering outside and the rhythmic strokes have him slowly lulling away into an almost relaxed state, at least what he considered relaxation. 

You smile gently down at his long and slow breaths, tracing with your brush over the small beauty marks that map his pearly skin like constellations on an explorer’s map. While one hand holds the brush, you use the pads of your fingers to press down gently over the strained muscles that don’t seem all that relaxed, pulling a groan or two every so often and enjoying all the little sounds he makes.

You spend the time just admiring him. The way his shoulder blades flex when he wraps his arms under the pillow, to the two very pretty dimples that peek just above the waistband of his sweatpants. 

“You’re not doin’ much painting…” He mumbles, voice thick and groggy from sleep, while your nails rake rhythmically along his ribs.

“I got distracted…” You bite your lip and pull your phone from under the brushes to snap a picture of your wonderful view, then you lean down and place a sultry kiss where his shoulder blades meet.

“Fox…” He warns through your kisses, the pet name sounding at home between rosy soft lips.

“Bear…” You tease back with a smile, you knowing how much he liked you calling  him that.

In a second, you sink down your teeth over the plush skin and he visibly shudders under you. You barely hear him mumble something to himself, before he’s turning to his side and using one strong arm to pull you down to him. Your vision spins and a squeal comes out, only to be shoved back into your throat with the force of his kiss. You’re caged between his arms, torso pressing you to the ground and mouth roaming wet and mercilessly over your own. 

The few seconds of air you fill your lungs with when he separates to pull the thin shirt over your head can only do so much to alleviate the burning in your core caused by his strong stare. You raise to your forearms and his lips latch immediately to your exposed collarbone, starving and pleased with every whimper he pulls from you. 

“You wanna play chef, let’s play-“ He teases and without wasting time, pushes himself off you into a seating position, thighs spread out just enough for you to sit over them after pulling you to him again.

His enthusiasm is evident in the growing bulge that begins to rub on the inside of your thighs and with the help of your toes on the floor, you rock your hips forward enough to feel his fingers twitch over your waist, digging deeper into the flesh. A soft and shaky moan caresses your lips, motivating your movements as your fingers scrape up his neck and get lost in the messy strands. 

His smile stretches over your joined lips. “Anything for you… chef.”

You can feel his Adam’s apple bob with a chuckle as you kiss down his neck, sucking and nibbling hard just under a thin tan line where you assumed his shirt would cover it up, hopefully. His hips jerk upwards with strength, ripping a gasp from your chest, then another squeal when he wraps a secure arm around your waist and hoists you up and off the floor. Your knees squeeze over his hips and your arms wrap around his shoulders in surprise only for a moment, before feeling the soft sheets and the mattress underneath.

Carmy’s lips brush down the exposed skin of your chest, his wet tongue lapping over the hardened nipple of each breast has your knees separating and making room to fit his hips perfectly. He lets go of your tender skin too soon, peppering saliva stained kisses down the middle of your abdomen. As his knees fall to the ground, dexterous fingers pull at the hem of your shorts in a torturously slow fashion, making you lift your upper body on your elbows and direct an impatient glare. Your hair has fallen off its bun somewhere between the floor and the bed, glowing like a dark halo with the few rays of sunshine filtering through the open window and it’s gripping at Carmy’s chest.

“Baby, please…” You moan eager and annoyed, trying to shimmy your hips to quicken the process.

The cold air hits the bare flesh of your cunt and ignites goosebumps that Carmy kisses away as he finishes sliding the fabric over your feet.

“Fuck, so wet already. Just for me, huh?” He mumbles to himself, breath blowing over the exposed skin and causing a jolt of need to travel deep inside.

You swallow down the thick pool of saliva that drowns your mouth at the sight of his beautiful face between your legs. “Bear, please I need you to-” The phrase is cut short by your gasp.

Long digits rub tauntingly over your slit, coating in the arousal caused only by him. He’s too eager to continue teasing you, too entranced with the way your pussy glistens with the bare idea of him that all he can do is look up at you through his brows and lap at the wetness with a firm tongue. With just the first taste of you, he’s hooked, like a starving man afraid they’ll take away his only source of life. 

Your groan throws your head back with force and makes your eyes lose focus. Strong hands grip at your hips, rooting you to the mattress while your feet fall over his shoulders. Your hands try to find anything to hold on to- hair, sheets, pillow and even your own thighs- but the constant assault of his skillful mouth makes your fingers lose their grip on anything in your reach.

“Fuck baby-you’re doing so, so good-” Your praise makes his cock twitch inside his pants and he uses one of his hands to frantically pull the waistband down, stroking himself with a similar speed to his mouth.

Whimpers cascade from your lips and pool over your chest with every slurp and lick that echoes in the small room. You force your blurry eyes to focus down, only to be met by piercing black and a thin ring of deep blue staring up at you. His hand spreads over the sweet spot where your thigh meets your hip bone, digits concave the flesh in a way that reminds you of the ancient marble sculptures. There’s a predatory air about the way his jaw tenses in concentration while eating you out, hard muscle digging deep into you and curving your back off the sheets. 

Your nails dig into his scalp with every stroke of his tongue and the scorching sensation crawling over your thighs only grows with the bump of his nose over your swollen clit. A hard yelp scratches its way out through your exhausted lungs, motivating him to speed up his movements and add a finger into your dripping cunt. His groans and moans vibrate into your overstimulated area, causing the orgasm to hit you out of nowhere.

A chorus of ‘fuck’s that vary in volume ring inside Carmy’s ears -along with the pulsing walls compressing his finger and tongue- but he refuses to budge. Instead he continues to rub your clit with the bridge of his nose until your breaths have settled long enough for moans to turn into words and not the unintelligible mumbling that makes his chest swell with pride. He pulls his own hand from around his cock afraid he’ll burst before his favorite part, distracting himself by placing gentle kisses over your spasming thighs and rubbing along the lengths of them as he crawls over you.

There’s a blissful smile over your face that only grows with the sweet pecks of his lips making their way up your skin. You open your eyes when the mattress dips under his weight beside you and you prop your head up on your elbow, mimicking his stance. Your eyes are glossy with post-orgasm bliss as your hand lifts to his face and your middle finger traces over the prominent line of the nose you love so much. His skin is smooth with your slick and you can’t help but pull your finger back and pop the tip into your mouth, never losing his stare. 

His neck loses grip of his head, messy curls falling in frustration because, how is it that the smallest thing you do can rile him up so fucking quickly? A death between your legs, he thought, would be the happiest demise.

With the thought present in mind, he circles your waist tightly and drags your body over his into a seating position. You throw your leg over his parted ones in sweet anticipation, knees hovering over the sheets while your arms fall on his shoulders and you pull him up to your mouth. The taste of peaches and tobacco mixing with your arousal have you panting and grinding your folds over the firm head of his cock.

“You want me to fuck you?” He whispers in between kisses, using all his strength to not slam into you already. He just loved to hear you say it, have your pretty lips pout around the word that had been used to taunt him for so long, needy for you to give it another meaning. "I gotta hear it, baby, c'mon-"

“Fuck yes, chef- please fuck me-” Your thighs quiver with want, mouth completely disconnected from your brain as the words tumble down. “Please, chef? Pretty, pretty please?” 

His eyes grow soft and his dick hard at the way you whine your words, hips rocking along his length leaving him delirious and pussy-drunk before he’s even inside you. Carmy plants a firm hand at the base of your spine, using it to guide you down his stiff cock until the last bit of air is pushed out your lungs.

“Fuck-” You groan, throwing your head back then letting it fall over his shoulder as he lifts you up and lets you drop over and over again.

Your hands dig at his back, clawing over undried paint you’ve forgotten is there and smearing careless streaks of blue and pink over his chest. The beautiful sound of smacking skin and his breathy moans growing louder around you go straight to your core, igniting the tingling sensation that runs up and down your thighs once again.

His eyes can’t seem to look away from your face, too bewitched by the way your lips hang parted and the fine layer of sweat covering your skin. While his hand rounds your body and runs circles over your nub, his teeth latch onto the breasts bouncing in his line of vision, pretty bruises flourish and decorate the skin with his own personal mark.

“Bear- baby- fuck-” Fragments of a sentence is all you’re able to utter, pushed out and punctuated by the snap of his hips increasing in speed.

You feel every one of his thrusts too deeply inside you from that angle, along with the constant nibbling over your tender breast and you think you might just go mad from the overstimulation. You roll your hips along with his when the tension in your navel begins to grow. One hand circles his neck and buries inside sweaty locks while the other tries to grip onto the wall for any sense of stability. Your legs tremble, the tension builds and without warning, your grip on his cock pulls the air from his lungs as he feels you spasm around him and come with a gutural gasp.

Carmy digs into the skin of your hips lifting you up for a few more thrusts before the tightness of your walls grows too much. His neck flushes red with the force of his release, the groan vibrating next to your ear makes the thin hairs on your body rise with chills.

The drained energy finally catches up to you both and Carmy lets gravity pull him down to the comfort of the soft bed, holding you tight in his arms and pulling you down with him. You’re too blissed out to warn him about the paint still fresh, now pressing over the white sheets disparaging the bed.

It’s only when he turns to carefully place you beside him- arms secure around you- that you open your eyes and notice the array of smeared paint covering both your chests and around his neck. The laughs rippling from your chest are too contagious for Carmy to stay quiet, joining on once he gets a view of himself and the lilac prints around your face that match with the size of his thumbs.

“See?” He whispers once you’ve both run out of laughter, sapphire eyes dancing around your glowing face and hand traveling up to caress your cheek. “I was right about the abstract painting…”

"Yeah..." You grin back. "And so much for not wanting to get paint on the bed..."

**********

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry and that’s it lmao

#the bear & the fox #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy smut #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fx #the bear tv #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #the bear & the fox #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #jeremy allen white #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy x poc reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto the bear #the bear fic #the bear imagine #the bear #carmen berzatto fan fiction #jeremy allen white imagine

[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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[icantpickabiasugh]

Our Secret-yjw

☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

Our secret- yang Jungwon

Parring-Yang Jungwon x fem!reader

Summary- Dim lights and locker room vibes leave mutual friends in a bit of a situation

Word count- 1k+

Warnings- SMUT!! Hickeys, making out, awkwardness, like bit of fluff. Lmk if there is anything more!

Reading time-4 minutes (in head)

A/n. Heyyy so this is my first fan fic ever I’m kinda nervous ahhh. Sorry it took awhile it’s currently 1:30 am but I wanted to post something before I went to bed! I was writing the Han fic but hit a bit of a wall so I quickly wrote this I was planning on doing a pt. 2 but only if you guys want. Please please PLEASE send feedback I could really use it! Enjoy my loves-☺️😘

You didn’t like going out much, you felt that it was a waste of time to get wasted with a bunch of people you didn’t know in a hot gross frat house, instead you rather liked the idea of spending your Saturday nights on the couch with your favorite drama and some snacks.

“Come on y/n, it’s the pep rally you HAVE to come!”

“Do I though, do I really”

Your friend Yujin however loved going out and meeting new people.

“Oh come on party pooper it’s your second year here and away from home and you’ve only been to TWO parties, you know how sad that is y/n?”

“FINE fine! But as after I’m going home I’m not leaving to some party”

You’d meet up with all your friends and their friends at the pep rally and go find a good view with some drinks and snacks

You left to go to the bathroom.

Excusing yourself from the group you go to the locker rooms looking for the bathroom.

You’re just outside the boy's football team’s locker room near the bathrooms you see Jungwon exiting giving him a small smile and walking past a couple feet away he calls out your name.

“Hey y/n”

Slowly turning around to look at him a bit confused

“Y-yeah? Jungwon?”

Jungwon was a part of your friends circle but you never really talked you saw a lot of his posts and comments on insta though and you did have the occasional chat online but that was about it what would he want to talk about?

“I was wondering y-you don’t post about Changbin anymore, did d-did you guys break up?”

“Ah y-yeah we did about three months ago”

“Oh well I’m-im sorry”

“Ah no need to be it was mutual”

“Well in that case I was wondering if maybe you wanted to hang out… sometime?”

“That'd be great Jungwon id love to”

Hearing keys rattling and someone jogging you get startled as Jungwon quickly pulls you into the changing rooms

“Wha-“

“Shhhh, we’re not meant to be here. Quietly run into that shower stall”

He softly whispers into your ear.

Backed against the wall and Jungwon’s body you are stuck breathing in his intoxicating scent you watch as he peeks out of the small stall and out into the looker room

“I think they’re leaving”

A second after saying so he’s push-up against your faces mere inches apart. He puts a finger to his lips brushing yours in the process

Sighing in relief he straightens up his posture a little

“S-sorry I didn’t mean to-mhnp”

Quick to shut him up you pull him in for a kiss by the back of his neck

“Mmhm~mmm y-y/n we should~mmhm mmm s-stop”

Pulling away confused you look at him

“D-do you not like me!?”

"NO no I-I do I really do it’s just, are YOU sure you want to do this? I get it if you're not over your last relationship-“

“What are you on about of course I want this I've wanted this for 3 years”

Wha- t-three years!?”

“Yes okay, now shut up and kiss me”

“Fine by me”

You and Jungwon had been gone from your friends for like fifteen minutes now and since then things had gotten a little more heated.

Your hand where in his hair as he suckles on your skin just under your ear his hand held your waist as he kisses the span of your neck making a trail back to your lips he moans as you pull his hair.

“Fuck I want you so bad”

“We can’t, the game will be over soon and the others will want to leave”

“Fuck the game and fuck the others I want you here and I want you now”

“Hell Jungwon you're so hot”

Releasing a shaky breath he moves to pull up your dress.

Moving your panties to the side he runs a finger through your folds and up your slit you moan at the feeling

“Ohh shit, Jungwon please”

“Please what baby, use your words”

“Please fuck me, ahh please I need it”

“Good girl” he growls in your ear undoing his pants and pulling his hard cock out it hits his stomach with a slap

“Jump baby”

Doing so you jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. positioning his cock at your entrance he slides it up and down your folds teasing you a bit

“You sure you want this baby”

“Couldn’t be more certain, now hurry up and put it in”

“Nghhh fuck baby you're so tight”

Giving you time to adjust to his size you slowly start rolling your hips on his.

Now Jungwon wasn’t awfully long as he was thick with a long vein running from the base of his cock to his pretty pink tip

As he stands moving he starts finding a steady pace and angle after shifting a bit he hit a squishy spot inside of you that felt just oh so good seeming happy with the sudden loud moan he’s pulled from you he smirks

“Did I find it, baby”

To fucked dumb to give a response you babble out his name.

He soon picks up the pace hitting that spot fast and hard each time

“J-Jungwon I’m gonna-fuck! I’m gonna cum!”

“Do it baby cum all over my big cock”

“Ahh ahh fuck shit I can’t hold it!”

He whispers in your ear one last time holding you tight against him “cum”

He’s quick to follow suit cumming deep In you he fucks you both through your highs

Pulling out he replaces his cock with his two fingers

“Keep it In for me yeah?”

Nodding softly you catch your breath and let him take care of you

“You did so good for me, I’m so proud” he whispers kissing your teary cheeks

☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆

Walking hand in hand back to your friends you find them coming the opposite way

“Hey there you guys are we’ve been looking for you two for ages” called out Sunoo

“Hey why are you guys holding hands” Jake questions

“Y/n IS THAT A HICKEY on your neck!!?” Yujin yells running at you

“Shit” you mutter under your breath.

☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

#enhypen ff #enhypen jungwon #enhypen hard hours #yang jungwon #kpop #enhypen smut #kpop smut #enhypen #jungwon #enhypen x female reader

[ashisill]

My love

Warnings: Past relationship trauma, past sexual trauma, crying, panic attack, fear of oral. This is all handled very gently by our beloved Jacob.

This was written for myself to find comfort in. If you struggle like I do I hope this reaches you.

(Unedited I was in a hurry to get this posted)

~

Jake has never once asked you to do it. Except for some reason your so afraid of letting him down. Jake is the only person who knows everything you’ve been through. You were hesitant the first time you two were intimate. Instead of pressuring you he held you as you explained your past to him. Wiping away your tears when needed. It was only few months later when gave yourself to him. He treated you so gently that you shed a few tears when it was over.

“What’s wrong my love don’t cry?” Scared to death about your sudden outburst, but keeping it calm.

“I just love you so much. Your way to nice to me. I don’t deserve you.

“This is how you should have been treated all along pretty girl. You deserve to be loved”

He’s always so patient with you. Never once attempting to pressure you into anything. Which is why you can’t understand why you feel it’s so important to go down on him. He’s done it to you a thousand times. You feel as if it’s unfair for Jake. Though that’s never been a thought in his mind.

~

You were laying on his stomach while a movie played. You started to gain some confidence, and gently touch him through his sweats. You tilted your head up to look at him. “What’s on your mind sweet girl?”

“Can I?”

“Only if you feel comfortable sweetheart”

You nodded your head, and threw the blanket over you. You pulled down his sweats, and kissed him through his boxers. Everything was going smoothly until you freed him from his boxers. You hesitated, but continued anyways. He grabbed your hair, and started guiding you. You took him in your mouth, and tried to keep yourself calm. It was actually happening, but you couldn’t focus on him. We’re you ready for this? You were already doing it, but is this what you wanted? You pulled off, and started breathing heavily.

“You alright down there?”

“I’m fine”

You lied to him, but you didn’t want to tell him you were freaking out. You just continued on thinking as it went on you would calm down. Except you weren’t, and then he pushed you down you gagged around him. You immediately pulled off, and tears threatened your eyes.

“I’m sorry I’m just gonna go to the bathroom”

“No no sweet girl come here” he grabbed your arm trying to comfort you, but you pulled away. You locked yourself in the bathroom, and sat on the floor. You wrapped your arms around yourself, and tried to breath. It didn’t last long as you began to panic yourself.

Jake laid on the bed worried sick about you. He knew you needed your space, but he wishes you didn’t leave the room. The worst case scenarios popped into his head. Before he could stop himself he was knocking on the door.

“Baby” you didn’t respond. “Can you talk to me please? Let me help you”

“I’m fine Jacob”

“You only call me Jacob when your not fine. Please let me in”

You opened the door with watery eyes. “Pretty girl what happened?”

“I don’t know. I just freaked out. I don’t know why I always fucking do this.”

“Don’t be down on yourself. Your not ready, and that’s okay. Healing takes time, and your trying to rush it”

“But you”

“What about me? Have I ever complained about it?”

“No” you shook your head.

“Exactly. Your putting pressure on yourself. If you decide you never what to then that’s okay. I’ll be just fine without it”

“But”

“No no none of that. Let’s go lay back down, and your not gonna think about it anymore”

“I’m sorry”

“No your not. You have no reason to be. No more thinking remember?”

“I remember”

“Good girl. Let’s go finish that movie”

“I think I missed most of it”

“I did too silly girl”

#gvf #greta van fleet #gvf imagine #jake gvf #jake kiszka #jake kiszka gvf #jake kiszka blurb #jake kiszka angst #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka smut #gvf smut #greta van angst #greta van smut #jake kiszka imagine #gvf fanfiction #gvf fluff

[froggibus]

Stay A While - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff w a shot of angst

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: you’ve always been one to suffer in silence, shutting yourself in your apartment for the duration of your episodes. but Jason Todd doesn’t want to sit idly by and watch you suffer alone, even if it annoys you

CW: depressed! reader, mentions of depressive episodes, negative thoughts/self talk, Jason is overbearing, mentions of insomnia, reader struggles to eat, some violence (out on patrol), the rest of the family kinda sucks in this lmao

this is for the people who followed me expecting Batfam/DC content and didn’t unfollow when I didn’t post any for months 😭 I love y’all. also idk the idea of soft! Jason makes me so emotional. also I WOULD LOVE SOME DC OR BATFAM REQUESTS!!! if there’s anything you want me to write I will gladly do it 🫶🏼 (also let’s ignore the fact that this is like my 3rd angsty post in the past few days oops)

————

It was common knowledge around Wayne Manor that disappearing into your room (or apartment) for a few days meant something different for everyone. Usually, it wasn’t anything to worry about. 

Sometimes it would be Tim finally sleeping when he’s pushed himself too far. Other times, it was Dick working a case and refusing to leave until he knew what to do. For Bruce, it usually meant he was injured and trying to hide it from everyone. 

Jason was still finding these things out little by little, so when you suddenly disappeared into your apartment, he was worried. 

“Honestly, it’s nothing to worry about,” Tim tried to ease his mind. “Y/n tends to retreat when things get bad.”

“And you guys are okay with that?”

Dick shrugged, adjusting the ice pack he had pressed to his forehead. “We tried the first time it happened. After a while, we realized that alone time is the only thing that really works. If y/n needs help, y/n will reach out.”

And the topic ended there. Or at least, it did for Dick and Tim. Jason couldn’t stop thinking about it though—did they really just let you suffer in your apartment all alone whenever you had an episode? The thought made his skin crawl. 

He’s had a few bad episodes over the course of his life, and while he managed to deal with it alone, he didn’t think that you should have to. 

Maybe that’s what led him to your apartment at four in the morning with a bag of takeout. 

You open the door dressed in your pyjamas despite not having slept a wink. You're almost surprised to see Jason standing there with the paper bag. Didn’t everyone know to let you ride it out on your own? You thought they decided to stop bugging you ages ago. 

Still, you don’t think it was fair to slam the door in his face, and instead welcome him inside. “What are you doing here, Jason?”

“Just thought I’d check on you,” he sets the bag on the counter. “Haven’t seen you in a while and wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

You squint at him. Did he really think you were that dumb? You figured he would have asked Dick or Bruce right away if you suddenly fell off the face of the earth, and they would have told him about your situation. Jason and you had never been particularly close, either, so why was he here?

He raises his hands in defeat. “I just want to make sure you’re taken care of somewhat. Alright? I’ll leave you alone after that.”

“I mean, I’m fine aren’t I?”

Your words come out harsher than you’d like, but you can’t help but be annoyed at the sudden intrusion. Not to mention the implication that you can’t take care of yourself. 

“You clearly haven’t slept in a while so we both know that’s some bullshit.”

You sigh. He’s right, after all. You can’t remember the last time you slept, let alone for more than a few hours. Though used to staying up late on missions and patrols, you never went this long. 

“I just have a lot on my mind, I guess,” you admit. “But I can take care of myself, Jason. So while I appreciate the concern, you can leave.”

He doesn’t protest, instead grumbling to himself while you show him to the door and effectively kick him out of your apartment. He stands outside the door for a while, wondering if he should try harder. 

He decides against it, and thinks he’ll just have to check on you again tomorrow. 

—

You almost feel guilty unpacking the takeout he got you, but then again, there weren’t many days lately where guilt and stress didn’t weigh heavily on you. As soon as you felt that familiar flood of negative thoughts and emotions, you knew it was time to withdraw. Still, through all of your episodes, you were yet to experience one quite this bad. 

It’s nice that Jason checked on me, you think to yourself. At least someone thought of you. Sure, you’d told the others countless times over the years that solitude while you sort through your thoughts was imperative, and it was true. Regardless, it was nice to have someone check on you, even if it was annoying. 

You dish yourself a plate of Chinese food and sit down on your couch, looking out at Gotham city through the window. It’s a dim, rainy night and the weather does nothing to help your mood. You find yourself picking at your food, having only a few bites before packing it up and leaving it in the fridge. 

You didn’t eat much, but it’s a start. 

—

Jason tries to push back the thoughts of you on patrol the next night, but he can’t. He just thinks of the bags that line your under eyes and the way your voice cracked when you said you were fine. 

It’s only when he damn near loses an eye to a stray bullet that he realizes he can’t ignore it anymore. He ducks around a corner, ready to head back to his bike. 

“Hood, where are you going?” Nightwing calls after him. 

“I gotta go check on something!”

Red Robin scoffs, “y/n is a big kid, Todd. Just leave it alone.” 

He shakes his head at the younger boy. He wants to argue with him but for once in his life, Jason Todd bites his tongue and turns the other cheek. 

When you open the door, you’re unsurprised to see Jason Todd standing there in his Red Hood suit. “Jason?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, walking past you straight into your apartment. “I’m back.”

“I—welcome back?” You close the door behind him, spinning around on your heel and raising an eyebrow at the man in your living room. 

“Look, I know I said I’d leave when I knew you were taken care of but I don’t—you’re not. Like, seriously, y/n, just talk to me.”

You sigh and take a seat on the couch. “Do you really want to listen?”

“Yes,” he says and sits down next to you, dropping his helmet on the cushion next to him. “If it helps you, I’ll listen til my damn ears bleed.”

His words are almost enough to bring a smile to your face, the muscles twitching almost painfully. You nod slowly, drawing your knees into your chest. 

Jason analyzes your body language, seeing just how vulnerable and small you really are despite your usual front. He knows to tread lightly here. 

“I—,” you tug on your hair slightly, trying to think of how to verbalise it. “Have you ever been so tired, like beyond tired, that you can’t sleep?”

He goes to speak, but thinks the better of it. You don’t need to hear about his own problems right now, but the truth is he has. He’s been where you are before—guilt and misery weighing so heavily on him that he can’t breathe. 

“I don’t even know what triggered it. I was fine one day and then all of a sudden….” You gesture to your current state in hopes he gets the idea. “I really hate feeling like this,” tears prick at your eyes and your nose stings with every word, “but I’ve never really found a way to make it stop and—and—“

Jason is almost as surprised as you are when he sets a gloved hand on your shoulder. “Y/n,” his voice is soft, “it’s okay to feel this way.”

His touch helps ground you and you manage to take a deep, shaking breath. “I don’t want you to see me like this, Jason,” you say quietly, voice so soft he almost doesn’t hear.

“There’s no shame in the way you’re feeling.”

“I know that I just—can you just go? Please?”

He opens his mouth to speak, to argue with you, but thinks the better of it. You look so soft and sad and vulnerable. He doesn’t want to push his luck and push you further away from him. 

He grabs his helmet and stands up. “Have a good night, y/n. I hope you manage to get some rest tonight.”

You watch Jason Todd walk out of your apartment door for the second night in a row. 

—

Jason is surprised when his phone screen lights up with your picture while he’s on patrol. The last person he’d expect to call him at two in the morning was you, especially considering he hadn’t heard from you in a few days. 

He tried to come and visit you the next night, but he couldn’t bring himself to knock at your door. Y/n’s tough, he thought to himself. You don’t need his help. 

He can’t pick up the phone in the middle of a fight, though, and has to wait until the henchmen are in a pile on the ground. He doesn’t even retort to Damian’s comment on how long it took him to take them down—his mind too focused on you and what could possibly be wrong. 

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, pressing redial on your number. Please be okay, he thinks. 

You answer on the third ring, your voice sounding soft and defeated. “Jason?”

“Y/n? Is everything okay?”

“I-I just…” you sigh into the phone and Jason’s heart clenches at the sound. “I don’t really want to be alone right now.”

Jason considers this for only a second. “Alright, I’ll be there in 10.”

He hangs up the call and shoves his phone back into his pocket, making the walk back to his bike. 

“Todd?” Robin says in his earpiece. 

“Pipe down, brat. I have more important things to deal with tonight.”

“More important than protecting the city?” Nightwing says over the comms. 

You have no idea, he wants to say. But he doesn’t, opting to turn off the ear piece and focus on getting to you as quickly as he can. He said he’d be there in 10 minutes, but he’s at your apartment door in 7. 

You’re waiting at the door when he knocks, a blanket over your shoulders, curled in on yourself. As soon as you open the door, you’re wrapping your arms around him. 

His suit is damp from the rain, soaking into your pyjamas and making you shiver. Still, you don’t let go of him. It’s been a particularly rough day, and you needed some company to combat the thoughts filling your head.  

“Miss me?” He jokes. 

You say nothing, content to hold him as close to you as possible. He rubs your back gently before wrapping his arms around you and half carrying you back into your apartment. 

He closes the door behind him, awkwardly adjusting to hold you up with one arm. Not that it’s much of a struggle for him, considering he’s a lot bigger than you are. 

He’s torn, he doesn’t want to let go until you do, but he wants to talk to you and figure out why you needed him so badly. Lucky for him, he doesn’t have to make that choice because suddenly you’re pulling away from him and tucking your hair behind your ears. 

You look anywhere but him. “Um, thanks for coming…”

“Anytime.” 

You try to think of something to say after that, anything to break the ice and explain yourself and not make this a huge waste of time for him. Before you can speak, though, Jason goes first. 

“You don’t have to explain it to me if you don’t want to,” he says. “I know it’s hard.”

You nod slowly, every movement of your body feels sluggish and heavy. You got a few hours of sleep the other day, but only out of sheer exhaustion. Now, it seems the exhaustion is catching up. 

“I’m just gonna…sit down,” you plop onto the couch cushion and pull your knees into your chest. You pat the cushion next to you, inviting him closer. 

Jason takes off his helmet and jacket, laying them on the kitchen island before sitting next to you. “Have you slept much?”

You shake your head, resting your cheek on the cushion and looking into his eyes. “A few hours the other day but…nothing since.”

“Did you want to try while I’m here?”

His eyes are soft, a jarring contrast from his other features. It’s almost as if he’s pleading with you. 

“Y-yeah, okay,” you slowly rise from the couch, your damp pyjamas clinging to your body. You usher for Jason to follow you to your room. 

You dig through your drawers, looking for a pair of clean pyjamas. You settle on a t-shirt you stole from Dick ages ago and a pair of sweats you used for training. Jason looks away while you change, trying his best to respect your privacy despite the way his face heats up. 

You crawl into your bed, trying to rearrange the messy comforter to cover your body. “Do you…is it okay if you lay with me? It only has to be until I fall asleep.”

Jason knows he’s pushing his limits, his heart racing at the thought of being in bed with you. He shakes the thoughts away—this is completely innocent. He’s just taking care of you. 

“Yeah, I can stay a while.”

Jason lays down next to you, his broad frame taking up more than half of your bed. Your breath catches in your throat at his proximity, and his warmth draws you in. Somehow, for the first time in days, his presence is enough to let you relax. 

Jason lays with you for some time, just staring at the back of your head while you cuddle your pillow. You must have fallen asleep at some point, because your breathing is even and your body is relaxed. 

He smiles, it’s the most calm he’s seen you in days. He knows you’re sleeping now and he can leave, but he doesn’t want to. What if you wake up and he’s gone? He doesn’t want to risk upsetting you. 

You roll over in your sleep, your head landing perfectly under his arm and on his chest. His breath hitches in his throat at the contact. He tries to adjust his body to make it as comfortable as possible for you to lay on him. 

He wraps an arm around your waist, cradling you within his own body. Jason can’t help but think to himself in this moment that he’ll take care of you no matter what, even if you can’t take care of yourself. 

#dc #dc universe #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood #red hood x you #red hood x reader #jason todd angst #red hood angst #hurt/comfort #batfam #batman

[alatushours]

☆ 3:27 AM, featuring xiao — even during the tough times, he’ll always be by your side.

contents. fem! sick + insomniac reader, hurt / comfort + lots of fluff <3 xiao calls you “angel,” reader is rather clingy, self indulgent, xiao takes a bubble bath with you bc he loves you sm ♡ tw. illness, nightmares, crying, and non sexual nudity. word count. 1.6k.

notes. hey um… i apologize if this was not what you expected during the holiday season but i am have been sick + incredibly stressed this month (∩ ˃̣̣̥᷄ ᴖ ˂̣̣̥᷅∩) so i kinda needed this… on the bright side, i am so thankful for all of the positive feedback on my previous post! it makes me very happy to see you all enjoying my work ♡

thin beams of moonlight filtered through the curtains, illuminating your shivering form on the bed. it was several hours past midnight, yet you still lay wide awake, hair splayed across your pillow like a halo.

it’s cold, you thought, pulling the blankets tighter. why is it so cold? 

it felt freezing outside, yet your body felt like it was baking in an oven. that, and the dark visions swirling in your already throbbing head was enough to make you sob in misery.

you lifted your head slowly to check the clock on your nightstand. 3:27 am. 

you buried your head deeper into your pillow, as if that could take the pain away. oh, how you wished your lover was here. he always made you feel better, loved and cherished. 

as if on cue, the door clicked open and a lone figure stepped inside the room. 

“hey, angel,” xiao whispered. “i heard you call my name… are you doing alright?” 

you stayed silent. it would only trouble him if you told him about your condition. you didn’t want your boyfriend to worry about someone like you, not when he was already battling so much himself. 

unluckily, xiao seemed to be able to read your mind; or at least, he was awfully good at knowing when you were hiding something from him. 

“hey, don’t ignore me like that.” xiao made his way over to the bed, turning on the lamp on the nightstand before sitting next to you. “i know you’re awake, and something’s wrong. just tell me, what happened?” 

hearing his voice, so worried and gentle, was enough to make your determination break. you threw yourself into him with a sob, feeling his warmth envelop you as his arms immediately snaked around your waist. you started crying, confessing your bottled-up emotions to him. 

“i-i… my head hurts s-so bad a-and i can’t sleep and everything is j-just so hard right now and i can’t do th-” 

you were cut off with a soft kiss. it was short, just one peck on the lips, but it was enough to make you calm down just a little. your sobs slowly turned to sniffles as xiao gently stroked his fingers through your hair, whispering kind words in your ear. 

“shh, angel, it’s okay… i know things are difficult right now, but i’ll always be here… i’ll always be by your side, alright? as long as you need me, my love.” 

you nodded into his chest, burying yourself deeper into his warmth. “i… thank you…” 

“there’s no need to thank me. this is what lovers do, right? they look out for each other. you’ve cared for me so many times before, when i was injured or struggling with my karmic debt. it’s about time for me to take care of you.” he took one of your hands in both of his own, circling his thumbs over the back of your palm.

“now, is there anything i can do to make you feel better? a glass of water? some food? do you want me to draw a bath for you?”

“… a bath would be… nice…” you murmured. 

xiao pressed a kiss to your forehead. “i’ll get it ready for you, my love.” 

he started to stand up, but something triggered in the back of your mind, for you didn’t let go of him. “no… don’t leave me alone… i don’t wanna be by myself…” 

xiao sighed, but didn’t complain. instead, he picked you up, bridal style, and carried you over to your shared bathroom. he kissed your forehead again before setting you down on the toilet lid to fill the tub with nice warm water for your bath. bubble baths always seemed to make you feel better, xiao had noticed before, so he made sure to add extra soap to the water.

before long you were seated in the bathtub, which was filled nearly to the brim with bubbles. seeing you giggle at the sight brought a smile to xiao’s face, but he couldn’t help but still be worried. how did you deal with this when he wasn’t here? 

he’d discovered your insomnia a few months ago, and you’d assured him that you were used to dealing with it; but were you really okay by yourself? he’d seen the dark circles under your eyes. and the way you had broken down tonight… 

“xiao?” the sound of your voice brought him back to reality. “is something wrong?” 

he shook his head. “i was just thinking, darling. don’t worry about me.” he sighed, letting go of his doubts. “is your bath okay? do you want me to be with you?” 

you looked down at your hands, fidgeting under the water. “i’d like that, but… i haven’t been feeling well, and i don’t want to get you sick too…” 

xiao chuckled. “i’m a yaksha, love. i don’t get sick that easily.” he stood up from where he was, removing the mask from his belt. “just relax, alright? i’m here.” 

he undressed and joined you in the bath, foam swirling around his body. "come here, i’ll wash your hair for you," he gestured. you obeyed, making yourself comfortable by his side as he moved to grab the shampoo.

“it’s been a while since we’ve been together like this…” he sighed, feeling himself relax as he lathered the shampoo into your hair. “i missed doing this with you.” 

“me too…” you smiled softly, remembering how you used to wash his hair for him after he had a nightmare. funny how now it was you who was getting your hair washed instead. 

the feeling of his fingers massaging your scalp was soothing, as was the feeling of bubbles on your bare skin. 

xiao’s hands removed themselves from your hair, moving down to your back. a sigh left your lips as he massaged your shoulders. “is this nice?” he asked. 

“mhm,” you closed your eyes, leaning back against his chest. you both stayed like that for a while, held in each other’s embrace. you couldn’t stay there forever, though, as the water was starting to get cold. 

xiao got out of the tub first, quickly drying himself off before holding out a hand to help you step out. a big fluffy towel was draped around your shoulders, followed by a soft kiss to your temple. 

“did that make you feel better?” xiao asked quietly. 

you smiled. "yeah, i'm doing a lot better now…" you turned around, standing up on your tippy toes to kiss him. "...because of you. thank you, xiao." 

"of course," he replied immediately. "it's what i'm here for." 

he helped you get dressed in your pajamas, draining the bathtub and hanging up the towels before walking you back to the bed. "i know you said you were feeling better, but i don't want you to get worse tomorrow. i'm gonna get you some medicine, okay?" 

you hesitated. "y-yeah, that's fine…" 

xiao raised an eyebrow. "are you sure? the lamp will be on and i'll only be gone for a minute or two, but if you don't feel comfortable by yourself, i can take you with me." 

"um…" you looked around the bed, spotting your favorite rabbit plushie that xiao had bought for you as a gift when you first started dating. you grabbed it and hugged it close to your chest before nodding. "yes! i'm fine on my own, don't worry about me!" 

xiao chuckled, "that's my brave angel." he kissed your hand before standing up. "call for me if you need anything, alright? i'll be right back." 

he left the room, leaving you alone with your stuffed animal and the feeling of your lover’s kisses to keep you company. 

all was silent for a few moments. you were trying very hard to think happy thoughts; how grateful you were to always have such a loyal and caring boyfriend by your side. however, the darkness that lingered in the back of your mind were starting to push their way forward again. you squeezed your rabbit tighter as you tried to shake the thoughts from your mind.

 i need to be strong, you thought. for xiao. he’s been so brave for me, so i need to be brave for him, too. 

before long, xiao returned with your medicine and a glass of water atop a wooden tray. “i’m back,” he said, putting the tray down on the bedside table. “were you alright on your own?” 

you smiled at him. “yeah! it was a little scary, but i wanted to be brave for you.” 

“for me?” he sat down, measuring out your medicine for you. “you could’ve just told me you were scared, and i would have taken you down with me. come on, take your medicine.” 

you did as he said. xiao sat behind you, brushing your hair for you as you downed the bitter medication. 

soon after, you and xiao got ready for bed and climbed under the covers together. xiao pulled the blankets around your shoulders. “are you comfortable, love?” 

“mhm…” you mumbled sleepily. “can we cuddle?” he chuckled and pulled you closer to him. you laid your head against his chest, tracing the tattoo on his right arm down to his hand, which was intertwined with his other. 

“sleep. i’ll be here when you wake up.” xiao whispered. 

“do you promise?” 

“i promise.” 

“seal it with a kiss,” you joked. he did just that, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“there. now go to sleep.” 

"okay!" you giggled and snuggled close to him. slowly, the doubts from earlier in the night started to fade. although the fear wasn’t fully gone, having your boyfriend by your side definitely made it a lot less scary. 

"good night, xiao. i love you." 

"i love you more."

ending notes. edit, i wrote the first authors note about a week ago so i am not sick anymore lol but i still wanted to post this for those who are needing a bit of comfort this holiday season <3 also just bc xiao and forehead kisses >>> i hc to be taller than he is canon lol but anyways, there will be some special holiday posts between today and christmas day, so look out for those :)

© alatushours 2023. please do not copy, modify, or translate my work in any way, nor upload to any other platforms. in the meantime, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and comment! it helps a lot ♡

#໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა mari writes ! #xiao x reader #xiao fluff #xiao comfort #genshin impact xiao

[fallingforunrealisticromance]

Hold me - Sherlock x fem!reader

Request: "Can you one with the bbc sherlock x female reader? Maybe one where sherlock is touched starved but doesn't realise it. And then he meets the reader and it's all fluffy at the end please? xx"

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2156

A/N: I'm so sorry i haven't been posting!! I've had a hectic month and not much time to write but i'm getting back to it!! If you have requested something, I'm getting round to them slowly but surely. Thank you all <33

Requests

Prompts

Masterlist

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

Sherlock never realised how touch starved he was. It was never really something he ever paid any attention to. In his mind, physical affection was yet another unimportant custom most normal people liked to spend their time searching for. He couldn’t be bothered with that. That was, until he met you.

*******************************************************************

“Stop talking Anderson, it lowers the IQ of the entire street.” Sherlock hissed.

You let out a small laugh as Sherlock, slammed the door in his face. John and Lestrade both turned to look at you.

“Sorry. It’s just- well he’s not wrong.” You said, shrugging your shoulders.

“I very rarely am.” Sherlock replied without looking over at you.

You rolled your eyes “Okay, no need to get all cocky Mr detective.”

You walked past him, resting your hand on the shoulder, before quickly taking removing it. “Sorry.”

Sherlocks brow furrowed. “Why are you sorry?”

“I know you don’t like people touching you.” You replied nonchalantly.

Sherlock went to speak but the words died on his tongue. So instead, he opted for a sharp nod before turning his attention back to the dead body in front of him. He had actually rather liked the feeling of your fingers running along his arm, even if it was only for a second. You were right, normally he would hate people touching him. But he found himself wishing that you would do it again, only this time leave your hand there for maybe a while longer.

“Sherlock.” John’s voice snapped the detective from his thoughts.

“Hmm?” He mumbled.

“You found anything? You’ve been crouched there for a few minutes now.”

Sherlock stood up, brushing the dirt from his coat.

“It was her husband. He killed her.” Sherlock relayed to Lestrade before promptly leaving the room.

********************************************************************

“Well. That’s one way to get home.” You said breathlessly as you rested against the wall of 221b.

“Yeah next time we have a case sherlock, can we not chase the killer through London on foot? They have cabs for a reason.” John panted, flopping down on the sofa.

“A cab would have been far too slow Watson.” You answered, smiling at him. “However, I have to agree with him sherlock, less running next time yeah?” You said to the detective who was leaning on his desk.

“Oh I don’t know, I think it adds to the fun.” Sherlock said with a tight-lipped smile.

“Did sherlock Holmes just make a joke?” John asked, staring at you in shock.

“Oh god the bloods rushed to his head” You replied jokingly. Sherlock just scoffed at the pair of you.

“Right, it’s been fun boys but I should probably be off.” You went to take a step forward without noticing your shoelace was undone.

You tripped over, falling forward expecting to crash into the hard floor beneath you. What you weren’t anticipating was sherlock catching you. His arms wrapped around your stomach as your hands clung to his arms. His heartbeat increased rapidly as you rested against him for a moment, trying to regain your footing. You stood up still clutching his arms.

“That’s embarrassing.” You laughed looking down at your shoes, seemingly unaware of sherlocks hands planted firmly just above your hips.

Sherlocks head was spinning. The feeling of your body pressed against him was something he quite enjoyed, even if it was in an awkward position.

You patted sherlocks shoulder.

“Thanks mate, that could’ve been a lot more painful.” To sherlocks disappointment, you moved out of his grasp in order to tie your shoelace.

John furrowed his brow as he noticed the hint of longing held in sherlocks gaze before it quickly faded.

“Yeah. No problem. See you later.” He said before promptly leaving to go to his room.

You watched him leave, rather confused by his rapid exit. “Did he seem a bit off to you?” You asked john.

“Yeah a bit.” He replied honestly.

“Well check up on him, make sure he’s alright yeah?” John nodded at your words. “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow probably. Bye Watson.” And with that you left the infamous flat.

********************************************************************

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Since then, sherlock found any excuse he could to have some form of contact with you. Whether it was standing that little bit closer to you in order for his arm to brush yours every so often, or letting you hold his hand if you were ever scared. Your touch provided him with a sense of comfort he never knew he’d needed.

Currently you were sat in your flat, curled up under some blankets on your sofa. There had been a lot of draining cases lately and while you wouldn’t swap your job for anything else – it really took a toll on you. You’d barely slept over the past week and when you had it had been a restless, disturbed night. Your body felt as if it was going to shut down any minute soon and you were honestly hoping it would as it might allow you to finally get a decent rest. However, as this is your life and nothing is ever that simple, your phone began to ring. Reluctantly you pulled your hands out from the bundle of warmth you had created and lifted the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/n hi its Greg.”

You shot up. You loved Greg but he never called for a good reason, something was always wrong. You didn’t have it in you for another case right now, but that was what you were paid for. Your wellbeing would just have to wait.

“What is it this time? Please don’t tell me it’s another murder” You replied.

Lestrade chuckled stiffly. “Er no it’s not a case as such.” He fell quiet.

“Well?” You prompted. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s sherlock. He’s well I don’t really know.” Greg replied.

That did nothing to calm your nerves, if anything it set you more on edge. “

Is john with you?” You asked.

“Uh yeah, I’ll pass you to him.” You heard a small conversation before john’s voice came through the phone.

“Hi y/n”

“What’s wrong with him?” You asked, heart beating rapidly.

You knew he had issues with drugs and if tonight was a bad night, you needed to know. You cared immensely for the detective.

“Well nothing I don’t think. It’s weird, I’m pretty sure he’s gone into his ‘mind palace’ but he just keeps saying your name.” John explained.

You fell silent. Why would sherlock be saying your name in his mind palace? Actually why was he saying your name at all?

“My name?” You repeated.

“Yeah I don’t actually have a clue what’s going on, could you come over?” John asked.

“Um yeah. Yeah I’ll be on my way.” You hung up the phone before scrambling to get off of the sofa. This was really strange, but you just needed to know that he was okay.

After about 20 minutes you found yourself knocking at 221b as you’d done many times in the past, but tonight felt weird. Mrs Hudson opened the door, beaming at you.

“Oh y/n! How lovely to see you” She said pulling you in for a hug.

“Hi Mrs Hudson. I’m here for…well I don’t actually know. John asked me to come.” You explained.

“Yes sherlock’s been acting very strange tonight.” You raised your eyebrows at her. “Stranger than normal my dear. He was getting really worked up about a case earlier and he was doing his normal anticks. You know, pacing, shooting my wall, yelling at john – the normal. But he just went quiet, john said he went to his mind palace whatever that is. Apparently he keeps asking for you.” She explained.

“Yeah john said.” You replied quietly, looking up at the stairs.

“Well you better go up there dear.” She patted your back before returning to her flat.

You took a deep breath before making your way up the stairs. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous, but your hands were shaking tremendously. You pushed the door open, seeing sherlock, sat in his chair with his eyes closed.

“Hi” You said quietly. John and Lestrade greeted you. “So I’m here but what exactly am I meant to do?” You asked looking over at the detective.

“Not a clue. Just talk to him?” John suggested.

You sighed. “okay.” You made your way over to him. “Hi Sherloc-“

But before you could finish your sentence, the detective jumped up from his chair wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you into his body, holding you tightly. His head fell to your shoulder, burrowing it in the crook of your neck. That was the last thing you’d expected him to do. You stood wide eyed, your arms hanging either side of you. This was not like sherlock at all, not that you minded his sudden display of affection – but it worried you slightly.

“Hold me. Please.” He whispered, so only you could hear. His breath against your neck sent a shiver down your spine, your heart racing. He sounded so desperate; it almost made you cry.

“Okay.” You said softly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, slowly running your fingers through the base of his curls.

He sighed, and almost melted into your touch as you did so. You could feel his hands clutching your shirt, as if he was trying to calm himself down.

“You’re okay sherlock. I’m here, your safe.” You mumbled softly.

You had no idea what he was feeling right now, but it felt like that’s what he needed to hear. The two of you stayed there for a while, you just allowing Sherlock to do what he needed. John and Lestrade stood behind you, staring at the sight before them in utter shock. After a moment, sherlock pulled his head up to face you without releasing his hold on your waist. Your eyes scanned his own, trying to figure him out. His face was flushed red from having rested on you for so long

“Hello.” He said gently.

You smiled at him, arms still loosely around his neck.

“Hi.” You replied.

Slowly, sherlock reached a hand up to cup your face. His thumb moved gently across your cheek as he looked down at you. You were almost certain your heart was about to explode.

“Why won’t you get out of my head?” He questioned, more to himself than anyone else.

“I’m…sorry?” You offered not entirely sure what to say back.

He smiled at you.

“Don’t be. I’m more than okay with it. It’s just…strange. I’ve never craved another person before. But you.” His voice trailed off as he stared at you like you were the most precious thing to walk the earth. “You are all I think about. All the time. I want to be with you, near you. I want to touch you all the time.”

You were speechless.

“Not even necessarily in a sexual way. But just, feel you. You seem to calm me in a way nothing ever has before.”

You could feel tears threatening to fall. You weren’t sure exactly why, but just the raw emotion sherlock was willing to show you was overwhelming. In the best way possible.

“I’m glad I can help.” You voice was quiet, barely audible, but you knew he’d heard you.

“So can I-“ John’s voice interrupted.

“Get out. The pair of you.” Sherlock snapped, not even looking at them.

You laughed slightly, turning your head to face them. “I’d listen to him lads. I think I’ll be okay.”

Greg looked utterly baffled but didn’t question it.

“You do know I live here?” John said.

“Well go talk to Mrs Hudson?” You suggested, feeling sherlock becoming rather annoyed.

“Go.” He demanded.

With that, they left the flat. Sherlock gently pulled your head to look back at him. His eyes flickered down to your lips ever so slightly.

“I want to try something.” He said softly.

“Okay.” You replied, knowing exactly what he was going to do. He lowered his face to yours until you could feel his breath fanning across your lips.

“Are you sure-“

“Sherlock just kiss me.” You begged.

Without any hesitation, he crashed his lips against yours. He held your face gently as if he was scared, he would lose you while pulling you impossibly closer. His lips were soft as they melted against yours. Your heart was hammering in your chest, you were sure it would break free. Reluctantly, you pulled away to breathe, but Sherlock kept a firm grip on you as he rested his forehead against yours.

“I don’t know what this is.” He spoke softly, not wanting to ruin the moment. “But I do know, I don’t want to be apart from you. Will you stay with me?” He asked, eyes full of hope.

You grinned up at him as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Until you order me away.” You replied happily, before leaning forward to kiss him once again.

#sherlockbbc #sherlock bbc #sherlock reader insert #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock x you #sherlock x reader #touch starved #john watson #greg lestrade #x reader #fluff #fluffy #kiss #first kiss #benedict cumberbatch #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange

[thespacesoffalseandtrue]

Sleepover

jake x fem!reader

and i know it’s been long but here is this post from this anon! sorry i was mia, school and stuff. as usual my inbox is open for requests.

warnings: SMUT!!! virginity talk, jake fluff and sleep overs (:

“Come on baby, it’s already so late. Please just stay with me tonight.” Jake told you, grabbing your hand as you walked past him. You could see the moon shining brightly through the kitchen windows, casting a slight shadow along the tile. You did have to agree with him, it was late but you didn’t feel as if it were fair to do that to him. Sleep in his bed, in his arms, and not allow him to touch you.

“Jake I can’t,” you say as you sit on the couch and put your shoes on. The clock on the wall read 2:08am and you sigh knowing you won’t get back to your home until almost three. But you weren’t ready to leave when the movie ended, you were too comfortable with your head in his lap and talking to him. It wasn’t until he made a comment about both of you heading up to bed that made you jump up off the couch.

“Stay with me tonight,” Jake says again, his voice almost pleading. He moves to sit beside you on the couch.

“I don’t have any of my stuff,” you try. Knotting your hands up in your lap.

“Is that the only reason?” Jake leans forward and presses his lips to your neck. “Are pajamas the only thing keeping you from spending the night?”

“Well, I mean…” You begin to say something else, but then it’s cut off by a moan as you tilt your head back. His tongue is swirling, dancing, tasting the soft skin of your shoulder, and you all but go limp in his arms. “Face wash, toothbrush,” your words become jumbled as he moves his hand to cup your breast over your t-shirt. “Clean underwear.”

“Are the ones you’re wearing too wet already?” He asks you, his voice was deep and husky. You feel your cheeks warm at his words and the sensation of him all over your body. “Let me worship you tonight.” His fingers slide across your thighs causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

You ponder your options, you could stay with Jake, allow him to worship you, touch you, kiss you. You know that’s what he means. You have been dating for seven months now and he knows your boundaries and never pushes you past what you’re comfortable doing. But you’ve never spent the night with him before and you can’t help but feel nervous at the idea.

“Jake, I,” you shift slightly away from him so that you can look at him. “Jake I don’t know if, I mean I don’t want to put you in a-” you fumble over your words, feeling heat rise to your face.

“Baby,” He says, grabbing your face, cutting you off. “We don’t have to do anything, I will sleep on the couch and keep my hands to myself. It’s just so late and I know you’re tired and don’t like the idea of you driving so late.”

You peer into his deep brown eyes, so sincere, so full of love for you. How could you even think that he would push you toward something you weren’t ready for.

“Thank you,” you tell him, feeling like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. “I will stay tonight, but I don’t want you to stay on the couch.”

He smiles at you and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I have a toothbrush for you in the guest bathroom and you can wear my clothes, okay?” You nod and he stands up, grabs your hands pulling you after him as he ascends the stairs.

He opened the door to his bedroom, flips on the light and begins to dig through his drawers for clothes for you. You’ve been in Jake’s bedroom before, even napped in his bed before, but this was different and you know you should feel nervous or giddy. Instead, you felt calm and completely at ease.

He turned around and had an old shirt and a pair of plaid pants for you in his hand. He walks across the hall to the other bathroom and comes back with an unopened toothbrush. You take them from him and move to the bathroom to change and brush your teeth. You know that you should probably shower but you were too tired and swore you would take one as soon as you made it back to your house.

His clothes fit you just right and smelt like him, woodsy and masculine, and you wonder, as you exit the bathroom, why you were ever nervous about this in the first place.

Jake was laying in the bed, completely clothed, and was flipping through the television looking for something to watch.

“Hi,” you say, coming to lay beside him. He pulls you close, your head on his chest and your legs entwined with his.

“What do you want to watch?” He asks you. You didn’t care, you were just happy to be here with him.

“I don’t care,” you tell him and kiss his chest.

“I told you I was going to keep my hands to myself,” he says with a smile.

“Kiss me,” you tell him.

He kisses you deeply, pulling you directly on top of him, straddling his hips. His hands move to grip your hips and roam freely under your shirt. You breath hitches when his palm grazes your bare breast. He breaks the kiss.

“Is this okay?”

You should feel nervous, you should be apprehensive, but instead you sit up in his lap and raise your hands over your head.

His eyes widen in surprise. “ Are you sure?”

He has seen you topless before, but this was different, you both could feel it.

“I’m sure,” and you were. You didn’t know what would happen tonight but you weren’t going to stop anything from happening.

He grabs the bottom of your shirt and pulls it over your head. He doesn’t waste any time and attaches his lips to your neck and moves down to your collarbone.

You gasp and arch into him when his mouth latches onto one of your breasts. His hand moves to the other one and pinches the peaked nipple.

“Fuck,” you sigh and knot your hands in his hair.

He smiles against your skin as he takes his time loving your chest. Sucking the delicate skin, leaving sensitive red marks in his wake.

He eventually flips you over and slides on top of you between your legs. His hair was wild and pooled over one shoulder. His face was red and flushed. His eyes met yours, they were warm and soft.

“I love you,” you tell him. He smiles down and you and places a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I want to,” you say against his lips.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I trust you.”

He kisses your lips and then your cheeks and then your eyelids. You giggle at the sensation, he moves up and pulls his shirt over his head.

“You can change your mind at any time, okay?”

You nod up at him as he resumes the position between your legs. He kisses each of your hands, his chest was pressed to your skin, his was soft and warm.

His fingers were light as they played with the waistband of your pajama bottoms he lent you. You lifted them slightly so that he could slide them off. You weren’t wearing any panties and you suddenly became self conscious. You wrap your arms around your body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, grabbing your arms away so that he could see all of you. “I’m going to take my time with you, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for your response and moved to kiss your lips, your neck, the valley between your breasts, down to your stomach and stopping at your inner thighs. Your body aches with need as you watch him settle between your legs. You can feel his warm breath tickle your core and you move your hands to his hair.

His eyes don’t leave yours as he takes his first taste of you, and you gasp. The feel of his tongue dragging across your clit makes you cry out because of how good it feels. The small touch has your body going up in flames, and a level of need you've never experienced roars inside of you. It pushes you past your shyness, and pleasure dominates your thoughts.

“More,” you gasp out and start to lift your hips, but he holds you down so you can’t wiggle free.

“I am going to give you everything baby, no rush.”

His tongue circles your clit again, but this time he slides it all the way down to your entrance. When he pushes it inside you, you grip his hair tighter. He thrusts it in and out repeatedly, and you feel yourself clenching around him. You needed his hard length to replace his tongue, but right now you know you’re riding his mouth like you would his cock.

He pulls his tongue out, and you open your mouth to protest, only to let out a breath of relief when his fingers take its place.

“So damn wet,” he groans, thrusting them in and out of you.

When his tongue finds your clit again, you drop your head back onto the bed. He sucks, and you feel him flicking it back and forth with his tongue, and your body can’t hold back. Your orgasm explodes from within like fireworks are being set off between your legs and cascading to every inch of your body. You call out his name as the pleasure courses through you, all the way to your toes, but Jake doesn't stop. He keeps devouring you, and you’re not sure you can take much more. Your legs start to shake, and you can’t form the words as he thrusts another finger inside you.

“You’re taste so fucking good, I never want to stop devouring you.”

“I don’t want you to,” you say moving your hips closer to his mouth looking for some friction against your clit as his fingers work in and out of you. You feel smile smile against you.

“You’re mine, and no one else’s” he says sucking and nippling your clit. “Say it.”

“Yes, I’m yours,” you agree. “I need your mouth, Jake, please.” You don’t know what’s possessed you, being this bold, but the ache between your legs can only be eased by him.

“No need to beg, I will give you whatever you want,” he says before his mouth lowers once more. He hooks his fingers inside of you, and the feeling is so different and deep that your body has no choice but to respond. A few quick caresses and you go off once again, only this orgasm is different from the last. It’s like lava pouring on you, and my whole body instantly ignites, and you cry out.

Every inch of your skin buzzes as you melt into the bed and shut your eyes. You don’t even have the willpower to keep them open, and you’re not sure you'll ever be able to move again.

As you slowly come down Jake kisses you gently along the insides of your thighs and you know with your entire soul that you want him to be your first. He stands and removes his sweat pants, you can see his cock straining for freedom against the fabric, his eyes never leaving yours in the process. He climbs back and hovers over you.

“Do you still want this?”

“Yes,” you say and touch his cheek, “I have never been more sure of anything before in my life.”

His touch is gentle as he reaches up and brushes your hair out of your face. “Fuck, you’re beautiful, but it’s even more than that.” Your heart flutters as he kisses you. “I’m keeping you.” You wrap your arms around him, silently agreeing.

“I will go slow,” he says against the hollow of your neck. “Tell me if you need me to stop, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I want you, Jake.”

When he kisses you again, you gasp as his cock rubs against your clit. Your legs fall open on their own, and your body is already making room for him.

“I want you too. Too damn much.” He reaches between you and presses his cock to your opening. “You’re so wet.” You bite your lip, wondering if that’s normal. “You have no idea how much I love it.”

His words reassure you and make you relax as he pushes the head of his cock into you. You feel yourself clench around him, and he’s right. You were soaked.

“There’s no going back,” he says, and you don’t know if that’s a warning or a promise.

“I don’t want to go back,” you say and pull him to you. The moment his tongue entwines with yours does he thrust all the way inside you. You whimper against his mouth at the sting and stretch. He stills, allowing you to adjust to the fullness of him, all the while his lips never leaving yours. Soon the pain begins to fade and you are left with the feeling of fullness and completion.

“Jake,” you moan when he pulls out, and then you take all of him as he thrusts back in. The movement and connection wash away anything else and he’s the only thing in your world.

“Damn tight, baby,” he grits out, and you lift your hips to meet each of his thrusts.

The pleasure begins to build like fire in a volcano on the verge of an eruption. Jake is fighting for control and seeing him so strained turns you on. His brow is furrowed and sweat is beating his forehead as he moves at a slow and deep pace. Neither of you seems to want this to be over too soon, but the finish line is fast approaching.

“You gotta cum with me,” he says, and you whimper because you’re so close.

His hand slips between you and goes to your clit, his slow strokes of his thumb pull you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you say to him.

“Baby,” he says, hips faltering “I don't know if I can hold on much longer, where should I-”

“I want to feel you fill me up,” you tell him.

He moves his thumb faster and with a few strokes of his fingers you follow him into paradise. You cry out as the orgasm ignites in you and Jake groans your name. There’s a primal clench when you feel his release spill, filling you up. The pulse of his cock causes your body to react in ways you didn’t know were possible.

As the last of your orgasm fades, every muscle relaxes under him. You close your eyes and feel the happy smile tug at your lips as you realize that someone you love and trusted was your first.

Jake rolls you both over, and his cock slips free as he pulls you against him.

“Are you okay?” He asks, bringing a hand up to your cheek.

“I’m perfect, thank you,” you say look up at him. He smiles at you and tosses the bed sheet and covers over you both. He buries his face in your neck and you start to fall asleep. Your body is more relaxed than it’s ever been.

“Get some sleep,” he tells you, “because we aren’t leaving this bed at all tomorrow.”

You giggle against his chest and allow for the rhythm of his heartbeat lull you to sleep.

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