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automaticllamacycle · 11 months

Text

I’ll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands)

Summary: You don't have much experience. Matty, however, does. A coffee shop AU.

Part one of two

Content: 18+, fingering, praise kink, hand jobs, first time, smut with plot

Word count: 11,059

It's not like you wanted to be a virgin in your mid-twenties. That was definitely not the goal. However, years went by, and no boyfriend was in sight. That is, until Matty entered the picture.

You met him at a coffee shop, the one you worked at. He caught your eye the moment he walked in during one of your shifts. It was cold and dreary, a typical December day in London, but you could still spot chocolate curls sticking out of a worn beanie. Wrapped in a thick knit sweater layered under a jacket, he placed his order.

"Hello, can I get a medium dark roast with a splash of soy milk?"

His thick Manchester accent piqued your curiosity, and so did his warm brown eyes. You tried not to stumble over your next words, sticking to your usual script.

"You got it. Can I get a name for the order?"

"Matty." He responded.

From then on, you saw him often. There wasn't a week that went by that you didn't see Matty at least once. Every time was the same. He would walk in with his gorgeous curls and pretty face and order the exact same thing, a medium dark roast with a splash of soy milk. His order became like second nature to you. When he walked in, almost a month after the first encounter, you were quick to speak.

"Still a medium dark roast with a splash of soy milk?" you asked, probably a little more nervous than you should have been. He had that effect on you every time he stepped through the doors. One glance with those brown eyes was all it took to make you shy.

"Oh, yeah that's it, thank you," he responded, with a quick smile. A smile you hadn't seen yet. A very cute smile.

Once you finished making the coffee, you called out the order, and he walked to the counter.

"Here's that coffee for you, Matty."

You'd thought that would be the end of the conversation, and he would walk right back out with a "thanks" like he always did. However, this time, he had something else to say.

"Thanks. You know, you already know my name, but I still don't know yours. That's bad manners on my part," he added with a chuckle.

A little caught off guard, you breathed out your name, sounding less than confident. It had been so long since someone took away your breath like that, and he seemed to be doing it every time he spoke.

"That's a lovely name. I'll see you around." he said with that same grin, and then strolled off with his coffee before you had the chance to say anything else.

—

It's fair enough to say after the most recent exchange, he took up way too many of your thoughts. You tried to convince yourself it was just a work crush, a normal work crush. He was a super cute so that's only a normal response, right? It's not like you would try to get anywhere else with him, anyway. Probably wouldn't work out even if you did try.

Well, the crush became ten times worse on open mic night at the coffee shop. Your coworker, Penny, begged you to switch shifts with her, some kind of emergency, so there you were. Typically, open mic nights were filled with out of tune guitars, pitchy voices, and slam poetry. Everyone at the shop avoided working on open mic nights.

Now, what you didn't expect was for Matty to walk in the doors with a guitar case in hand. His hair was more styled than usual. His normal curls were a bit frizzy and all over the place, but tonight his curls were well defined. He had on a knit patterned sweater, which was typical for him, and a black pair of trousers accompanied by black combat boots.

Oh God, this is about to be either really good or really bad for the state of my crush on this man, you thought to yourself. Nothing better than a man with curly brown hair that could sing and play the guitar.

He didn't approach the counter this time. Instead, deciding to sit at one of the tables and listen to the other acts. You watched him for a moment, but then went back to work. Before you could hear what Matty prepared for open mic night, you had to endure the other performers.

You weren't one to judge others for their creative expression, but they were so horrid. There were some decent ones in the bunch, thankfully. One guy played a cover song on piano, and it wasn't half bad. Most of the night was filled with a cappella covers and shallow slam poetry, though.

The moment you were eagerly waiting for finally arrived, and Matty grabbed his guitar case and took the stage. Waiting for it to be his turn was the longest hour of your life. He sat the case down on the small stage set up and opened it up. He fumbled with the guitar a bit while he sat down on the stool in front of the microphone. Nerves flashed through his eyes. They were evident by his hands slightly shaking as he adjusted the microphone closer to his lips. You were the only one watching his hands close enough to notice, anyway.

"Hello, I'm Matty," he spoke into the microphone, voice confident and smooth despite the nerves. "I'm a part of a band called The 1975, and I will be singing one of our songs called ‘Chocolate’.”

When he started to sing, what struck you first was the heaviness of his accent on the words he spoke. Even for a Manchester accent, it was thick on every syllable he sang, close to unintelligible at times. What struck you next was the fact that he was genuinely a great singer. His vocals and guitar skills were far too good for him to be playing in a random coffee shop among the mediocre slam poets and cover artists. Yep, this was only going to make your work crush worse.

Your eyes locked with his brown ones multiple times while he sang. With his eyes shining in the lights, a smile stretched across his face, and you returned it. He completely captured your attention for the entire duration of the song without trying. It was like you couldn't look away, even if you wanted to. When he finished singing, his performance elicited far more applause than open mic acts usually do. It wasn't typical for someone with serious talent to play at open mic, and the coffee shop patrons could spot the talent, too. Tearing your eyes from him, you went back to work. You didn't expect him to approach you at the counter after putting his guitar back into its case and leaving the stage, but Matty seemed to be surprising you a lot these days.

"Hey there," you said, beating him to the conversation, just as he reached the counter. "Your song was great. It's not every day that someone actually good plays here. I had no idea you were in a band."

"You can say it was shit, I won't be offended. I'm terrible at guitar," he states, rather bluntly. "But yeah, I've been in a band with a few of my mates for quite a few years now."

"Oh, if it was shit I would be sure to let you know," you added with a laugh. "Seriously, it was good. Now, can I get your usual started for you?"

"Actually no, not this time. I think it's a bit too late for me to be drinking coffee or I'll be too wired to sleep."

He had a point; it was around nine at this point. The shop would be closing within the hour. You continued, even though talking is not a strong suit of yours.

"So then, what can I do for you, Matty?"

"Since you asked, I do have a question for you," he responded promptly like he had been waiting for the moment to ask.

You quipped back, "And what might that be?" He seemed jittery, almost like how he was on the stage.

"I was wondering if I could get your number and take you out sometime. Maybe meet for coffee right here if you'd like?" His hands fidgeted on the counter as he asked.

Oh, he's asking you out, act natural, you thought to yourself. While it was common for customers to try and get your number, the interest was never reciprocated on your end. This time, the interest was definitely mutual.

"Yeah sure, that sounds like a lovely idea," you responded with a grin, reading off your number to him while he put it in his phone.

"I'll be texting you," he says while putting his phone back into the pocket of his pants. "See you soon."

Once again, he walked away, guitar case in hand. However, this time, the smile on his face was a little bigger than before, and so was the smile on yours.

—

After cleaning all the equipment and making sure everything was in order for the morning shift, you closed up the shop for the night. You resisted the urge to check your phone every single moment on the walk back to your apartment. The walk was already a short one, but the pep in your step made it even faster. When you walked through the door of your apartment, your dog Socks ran up to greet you. After you got her food bowl and fed her, it wasn't long before a text from an unmarked number buzzed on your phone.

Hey, it's Matty. You free anytime this week to meet for coffee?

You weighed the options of waiting a few minutes to not seem too eager or responding immediately, and the latter option won by a long shot.

Yeah I'm free Wednesday around 11:00 if that works for you?

He responded pretty quickly, too. Good to know it wasn't just you being eager.

That works well for me! I'll see you then :)

You responded once more.

See you then :))

You put down your phone on the coffee table with a huge grin across your face. You went ahead and finished your nighttime routine, washing your face and brushing your teeth. When you laid your head down on the pillow you couldn't get your mind off of Matty. The thought of his voice, his face, his mouth, and his hands slowly drifted you off to sleep.

—

The days went by entirely too fast and entirely too slow all at the same time. Before you knew it, it was Tuesday night. By 10:00pm, you had already ransacked your closet for something to wear, pulling out every article of clothing you owned. The pre-date anxiety wasn't helping you make up your mind. When 1:00am rolled around, you finally settled on an outfit, your favorite pair of jeans and a turtleneck sweater. Way too simple of an outfit for how long it took to pick out, but oh well. Finally, you crawled into bed, glaring at the clock on your nightstand. The numbers mocked your decision of staying up so late. You had an early shift tomorrow that would end a few minutes before the time you were meeting Matty. You had rationalized this choice in the moment before texting him. It would be better for you to already be there, and would probably lessen your anxiety, if only a little bit.

The alarm clock rang, and you hated everything. Still, you got up, put on your outfit, and finished getting ready. You kept the makeup light and styled your hair to the best of your ability. There was only so much that could be done at five in the morning. You fed Socks and gave her a pet before heading out. Once you walked out the door, the nerves weighed heavy on your chest, but you couldn't back out now.

Reaching the coffee shop, you put on a sarcastic cheery voice and greeted your two coworkers, Penny and Grady.

"Good morning, guys! Isn't it just beautiful to be up before the sun?" They groaned in unison. Tough crowd. "Well, I have something very important to tell you two. I have a date today."

"Oh my God, I never thought this day would come," Penny gasped, only half joking.

"Hey! Don't be rude! It's not like you've had much luck in the boy department either."

"Okay, stop bickering. Now, who's the man in question?" asked Grady.

"So, you know that guy with the curly hair that comes in at least twice a week?"

"Yes, we know, it's not like you've gawked at him for the past two months or anything," said Penny.

"He asked for my number at open mic night. Thanks for asking to switch shifts with me by the way, Penny. Can't thank you enough," you teased.

"Glad my car wreck could be of some assistance?"

You went through the motions of opening up the shop with Penny and Grady, and the place filled with customers all too soon. The hour was ticking closer and closer to when Matty would walk through the doors. You tried to calm your nerves, but the attempts were no good. When the clock read 10:50, you decided to go ahead and start his usual, ringing it up under your discount. You started on your coffee as well. Caffeine was a necessity.

The door to the shop opened, just a minute before 11:00, and you looked up to meet Matty's eyes. It had been two months since you first saw him, but his gorgeous eyes still left you dazed. Putting on a brave face, you decided to speak first.

"Hey," you began with smile on your face. "I went ahead and made your coffee," you said while handing him the cup.

"Don't I need to pay for this?" A confused look marked his face.

"Nah, I went ahead and put my discount on it." You walked out from behind the counter with your own coffee in hand towards him.

"Well, there goes my plan to pay for your coffee like a true gentleman." He said, heading towards an open table. He chose a booth beside the shop window. You sat opposite from him.

"I couldn't possibly let my discount go to waste," you insisted. "I get one coffee free per shift and everything else has a big discount. Truly, it's no trouble."

You looked at him while waiting for whatever he had to say next. He looked good, smelled good too. Has he always smelled this good? Since you were always separated by a counter from him, you hadn't been properly close enough to tell until just now. You quickly told your brain to shut up before you say something stupid. He spoke first.

"Okay, I'm going to start this off with my favorite ice breaker question. What's your favorite song?"

"That is a horrible ice breaker question. You couldn't come up with anything better? Something deeper, perhaps?"

"I'm a musician, of course I would ask a question like that. I think a person's favorite song can reveal a lot about oneself."

"I don't think I can choose just one," you continued by listing a few of your favorites. Definitely not a solid list. "So, what's yours, then?"

"Probably one I've written," he replies with a smirk.

"I feel like that's cheating, but I'll allow it. How did you get into music anyway? From what I heard before at the open mic, you're pretty good."

"My band mates are really good, I'm just average. Trust me, when I play with them it's obvious how shitty I am, especially next to my mate, Adam. He's legendary at guitar. To answer your question though, when I was younger, I always wanted to be a pop star. I was a huge fan of Michael Jackson. I started to learn a few instruments and then by the time I was in secondary school, my friends and I decided to form a band. I ended up as the singer somehow along the way."

"I should go see a gig soon, got any coming up?"

"Yeah, I think that could be arranged."

The small talk between you two continued and wasn’t painful like most small talk. You found yourself more enchanted by Matty the more he spoke. Everything he said, while usually laced with humor, was well thought out. It was clear he was a deep thinker, but any songwriter typically has to be one. You've realized in the time sitting across from him in the booth that you could sit and listen to him talk all day long. When you got around to looking at the watch on your wrist, you realized it had been over an hour and half since you two had sat down in the booth. As much as you hate it, you really need to get home and be productive with your day.

"I've had a great time talking with you Matty, but I think it's time for me to head out. I have a huge pile of laundry and a chore list that unfortunately will not do itself."

"Can I walk you home?"

"Isn't that a line you're supposed to pull out when it's dark to make sure I get home safe or something like that?"

"Oh, come on, you already bought my coffee. Let me be a gentleman for just a moment here."

"Okay fine, if you insist." The both of you stood up from the booth and he held the door for you on the way out of the shop. Penny threw you a wink while Grady gave a not-so-subtle thumbs up. You hoped he somehow didn't see them, but there was no way he couldn't have.

Matty kept you entertained on the short walk back to your apartment, telling you a funny story about his friend George. You found yourself laughing right along with him while he retold the story. You were thankful he did the heavy lifting during the conversation. It made it much easier on your part.

"Alright, this one's mine," you said, pointing to your building. "I do appreciate you walking me back, by the way, jokes aside."

"I was enjoying your company and wanted to make it last longer, what can I say?"

"It was very kind, thank you."

He kept looking at you, like he was deep in thought again. His gaze made you feel exposed. Originally, his eyes peered directly into yours, but they slowly shifted down to your mouth. As he stepped towards you, the air instantly grew thick. The tension could have been cut with a knife.

"You're not one of those girls that gets offended by getting kissed on the first date, right?" he spoke, almost in a whisper. Eyes still locked in on your lips, not looking up from them for one second. His face got closer and closer to yours.

"No, I'm not." His lips nearly brushed against your lips. The gravity becoming too much. Your eyes flickered between his eyes and his mouth.

"Good."

With that his lips met yours. Soft. Gentle. One of his hands carefully pressed into your lower back, bringing you deeper into the kiss. The other hand rested on the side of your face. Not knowing what to do with your hands, you placed them at his shoulders. He pulled away for a brief second, before leaning down once more to leave another quick kiss.

When he finally pulled away, for good this time, he had one last thing to say.

"I'll be seeing you," he said, giving you a wave and that same smile you had grown to adore before walking away.

You sat on the steps outside of your apartment for at least five minutes after the kiss. When you found it in you, you finally walked in the door and ran up the stairs to your apartment.

It's safe to say this was more than a work crush.

—

You walked in to work the next day with a beaming look on your face. Penny noticed immediately.

"Okay tell me everything from start to finish. Don't you dare leave anything out."

She didn't have to force it out of you. You were dying to tell anyone about your date at this point, so you went through every detail, including the kiss.

"Girl, he is so into you," Penny replied.

"Well, I would hope a kiss would mean he's into me. I personally don't kiss people I hate."

Work was slow that day. Not too many customers. Matty didn't walk in that day, which was probably a good thing for your sanity. He did however make his appearance once again, two days later. He walked through the doors in his usual attire, a sweater and a pair of jeans. His eyes lit up, just a little bit, when he saw you.

"Your usual, I assume?"

"Yeah, of course." A soft smile lighting up his face.

Instead of walking away from the counter like he usually did, this time he stayed right by it as you started making his coffee.

"Do you have any plans tomorrow night?"

"I think my schedule is open. You have a suggestion for me to fill it?" you said, a smirk on your face.

"My band has a gig tomorrow night; thought you'd might like to come and see it."

"Oh yeah absolutely! Give me the time and place and I'll be there." He pulled out his phone and texted you the details. It was at a small venue in downtown London.

"I won't be able to see you before the show starts but go up to security after it's over and tell them your name. They'll let you backstage."

You finished up his drink just as he finished his sentence. "Here's your coffee, Matty." You handed him the coffee. His hand brushed with yours, lingering longer than normal. Definitely on purpose. He was looking at your lips again. "I'm looking forward to seeing the show."

"And I'm looking forward to seeing you after the show." He winked and walked out the doors.

As soon as he was out of sight, Penny appeared right behind your shoulder.

"You have got to look hot for that tomorrow. I'm coming over after work to help you with your outfit."

"Where did you spawn from?"

"Oh, I was just in the back listening like any good friend would, of course!"

"I don't know if you listening is a comforting thought or a concerning one." A laugh making its way through your voice.

"Well, be thankful, because I am going to ensure you look hot."

Penny stuck to her word and walked home with you once both of your shifts ended. Right when she walked through the door of your apartment she went to the closet, completely ignoring Socks’ cries for attention.

"I think we have some things to work with here." Her hands full of clothes. She had you try on her first idea, a mini skirt with a button up blouse. Her reaction was immediate. "I mean you always look hot, but this outfit just isn't doing it for me." This went on for quite a bit.

"Penny, can you make up your damn mind before I lose my own?"

"Okay, okay, last thing. Try on this." She hands you a dress that had been laying in the back of your closet for who knows how long. It was black and had a collar alongside a V-neckline. The skirt of the dress landed at mid-thigh. Once you stepped out to show her, she nearly yelled. "Yes! That's perfect! Now time to put the other pieces together." From the large selection of shoes in your arsenal, she landed on a black pair of chunky Mary Jane style shoes.

"Is it to your liking now?" you asked.

"How about you wear these?" She held out a pair of fishnet tights.

"Penny. Absolutely not!"

"You'll look so good though, but fine, I'll accept defeat," she frowned. "Wear these instead." She handed you a pair of sheer black tights. Those you could manage with. She finished the look by gathering a few accessories. Picking out a couple of necklaces and rings. "The look is complete," she said, giving a quick bow.

"I actually really like it. You have good taste." You gave her a hug and thanked her. The two of you walked towards the door. She began to walk out before she stopped to say something.

"By the way, wear some cute underwear underneath that dress, you never know what could happen."

"PENNY! Go. Out the door, now. Bye!" You refused to let your mind go there, yet.

—

You woke up the next morning already antsy about the show that night. You tried to not think about it, but you couldn't get your mind off of it. When it was acceptable to start getting ready, you began with your makeup. Normally you went light with it, but today you decided to focus on your eyes. With a light hand you went in with a dark purple eye shadow, and then blended it out with medium tones. Next came the eyeliner, the scariest part. Keeping your hand steady as possible you drew a small wing onto both eyes. After more attempts than you care to admit, they were even. You finished the rest of the make up and went to put on the outfit.

You walked out the door and headed to the nearest train station. The venue wasn't too far, but it was far enough that you did not want to walk it, especially not in those shoes. When you made it to the venue, there was decent line to get into the place. You wouldn't have guessed the band was this popular from the way Matty talked about it. It seemed like it was nearly going to be a full house. Since Matty put your name on the guest list, you didn't have to have a ticket, very convenient.

After you were in the building, it wasn't very long before the show started. However, there was enough time for you to make it to the bar and get a drink. You'd hoped the liquid courage would come in handy later. The place was indeed packed. Since it was standing room only, you decided to stand more towards the back.

The set was fantastic. You could tell Matty was much more comfortable preforming with the band than he was by himself. Totally different stage presence compared to when he sang at the coffee shop, particularly when they played the same song "Chocolate". If there were nerves in Matty this time around, you couldn't tell. The bottle of wine in his hand while he sang likely played a role in that, though.

Once the show was over, people slowly filed out of the room, and you waited until you could make your way up to the security guard at the front. The security guard walked you backstage when you told him your name. Matty was right there when you made it backstage, engulfing you in a hug. He was sweaty and shirtless at this point, but you didn't mind. Not one bit. This was the first time you were able to see all his tattoos. He didn't seem like the type of guy to have a chest piece, but you stood corrected.

"I didn't see you out there, thought you bailed on me for a second." He joked, breaking the hug. "I'm so glad you were able to make it."

"I would have at least texted you if I wasn't able to make it. I was just in the back because I didn't feel like fighting the crowd to get closer. Speaking of which, when were you going to tell me your band was so popular?"

"I don’t think we’re that popular. People just show up when we have a gig. I don't get recognized in public that often."

"I think that's called being popular, Matty. Next time, I'll show up earlier so I can get a closer view. The set was great by the way. I'm going to have to look up the band when I get home."

"Want to meet my band mates?"

"Yeah, of course!"

His hand met your lower back as he walked you to the green room. He introduced you to his friends, Ross, George, and Adam. They teased Matty just a bit for bringing a girl to a concert. You felt your cheeks flush, and not from the alcohol from earlier. You didn't stay and talk for a long time since it was getting so late, so you said bye before following Matty out of the green room. He decided to put on a shirt by now, much to your disappointment. Once you exited the venue, Matty spoke.

"Think I could walk you home again?"

"Well, I took the train this time, I don't want you to have to go in an opposite direction just to walk me home. I'll be fine."

"I don't live too far from you, actually. About a ten-minute walk. We would probably end up taking the same train anyway."

"I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?"

"Sorry darling, but no."

"Let's start walking then."

The walk to the train station and the train ride to your apartment was filled with laughter. You were both slightly tipsy. You from the drinks at the bar, and him from the bottle of wine he kept on stage.

"So, now that you've seen the amazing Adam Hann at guitar, I think it's safe to say I am shit at guitar." Matty said, stepping off the train. You both made your way up the stairs of the station and walked towards your apartment.

"I mean he's better than you, yeah, but that doesn't mean you're shit at it. You should see me try to play sometime. It's fucking hilarious."

"I could teach you some chords. How to play ‘Wonderwall’ or something like that."

"Oh God, not ‘Wonderwall’. Anything other than that, please." He lets out a strong laugh at your comment, but you weren't wrong. ‘Wonderwall’ was so overdone.

"Alright, I'll teach you something else then. Anything you want."

You two approached the steps of your apartment, but you didn't want the night to end just yet. So, you had to think fast. "Want to come inside and meet my dog?"

"You have a dog? I love dogs. You should have told me sooner." He followed you through the doorway of the complex and up the stairs to your apartment. As soon as you opened the door, Socks ran to see you. When she saw Matty though, she was a bit confused.

"Her name is Socks by the way," you told him.

"Oh my God, what a cute name." Matty got down on his knees, held his hand out to the dog, and soon enough she warmed right up to him. You left the pair where they were and walked past them, going for Socks’ food bowl.

"Sorry to interrupt, Matty, but I have to feed her. It was too early for her to eat when I left for the concert."

"That's alright," he said, making his way over to sit on the couch. You were thankful you cleaned the place up before you left. You wanted to join him on the couch, but you had to change clothes first. Your feet were killing you and you hated the tights.

"Here's the remote for the television. Put it on whatever you want. I desperately need to change clothes. I'll be right back."

You went into your bedroom and shut the door, not noticing his eyes following you the entire way there. You changed fast, not wanting to be rude. From your dresser, you grabbed a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. Next you stepped into the bathroom adjoined to your room and washed off your makeup. When you walked back in the living room, you saw that Matty put New Girl on the television. Good choice. You took the seat next to him, leaving a bit of room in between.

You sat there and he sat there. Both absorbed by the awkward silence while the TV show played. Socks ate her food in the corner, the only sound other than the show. Matty quietly cleared his throat. Seemed like you were going to have to do the heavy lifting here.

"So..." You began, breaking the silence. "What kind of ideas do you have planned for our next date? Unless you want me to come up with something." His eyes left the television and turned to you. God, you wished his eyes didn't have such an effect on you, and the alcohol from earlier wasn't helping.

"I have plenty of ideas, just going to depend on if you want to do them," he said, a questionable look on his face. It was obvious he still had some alcohol in his system, too.

"Oh? Like what? That sounds a bit mysterious by itself."

"Well, I thought I could invite you over to my place next Saturday and cook something for you. Be all romantic and shit." The look on his face was kind and sincere. Either the alcohol made him have his guard down, or he was just comfortable with you. You couldn't tell which one for sure.

"That sounds like a good idea. I will judge your cooking skills harshly, though."

"I would have expected no less from you," he said with a small laugh. His cheeks were turning pink.

You felt the conversation begin to lull again, so you spoke. A cheeky idea in mind. "Any other plans besides cooking for me?"

"To be honest, I did not think that far ahead."

"I have an idea," you said without hesitation.

"What might that be?" His eyebrows raised and his body turned to you, awaiting your answer.

"Maybe we could do something like we're doing now?"

"Sitting on the couch while watching New Girl, struggling to make conversation?"

"No, I was thinking more along the lines of this." By the end of your sentence, you leaned in and connected your lips to his. Matty was caught off guard. You hadn't been so forward with him yet, but he was quick to kiss back. You broke away first. The both of you breathing heavy. "Sorry, probably should have asked you before I did that."

"No need to say sorry. I don't give a fuck," he replied, placing his hand on the back of your neck to pull you back in. The kiss was heated this time. His hand that was at the back of your neck went up into your hair. His other hand made its way to cup the side of your face, bringing you in closer. Both of your hands threaded through his hair. You've wanted to run your fingers through his curls since the moment you saw him.

His lips were warm and soft as they moved against yours. In an instant, his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth in response. His movements were slow as his tongue explored your mouth. As smooth as you tried to be, you trembled with nerves. You felt like you were going to explode. Matty broke away for a moment. His eyes bore into yours. Pupils wide and dilated.

"Are you alright, love? You're shaking like a leaf," he breathed. His thumb rubbing gently on your cheek.

You looked into his eyes for a moment before the eye contact became too much to bear, eyes shifting back to his wet lips. "Yeah, I'm fine." The warble in your voice didn't agree with the words you said, but you pulled him right back into the kiss. Without missing a beat, Matty continued to kiss you, becoming more eager. He moved his hands from your hair and face and relocated them to your waist. In one swift movement, he dragged you from the place next to him until you were sitting on his lap. Your knees were on either side of his hips. His hands, still on your waist, pulled you flush to his body. You tried to keep up with the movements of his lips and tongue, but your inexperience was showing. The movements of his mouth were skillful against yours. It was like he already knew all the places that would make you melt.

You were falling for him. Fast. His hands slipped under your shirt, grasping onto the skin of your hips and waist. He began to push your hips down into his, ever so slightly. You reciprocated the movement on your own, grinding your hips into his. He let out a small groan into your lips at the feeling of your movements. Part of you wanted to hear that sound again, but part of you knew this was about to go too far really quick without telling him what you knew you needed to. Somehow, the voice of reason in your head won, and you pressed lightly on his chest to break the kiss. His eyes stared into yours again, pupils wider than before. His lips red and swollen from the pressure of the kisses, chest rising underneath your hands like he couldn't catch his breath. Beneath the look of arousal on his face, he seemed worried.

"Did I do something wrong?" he breathed out, shifting his hips slightly. You could feel him under you. You were out of breath too. You really had no idea how to put it lightly, so you just said it.

"I'm a virgin." You didn't know how he was going to take that message. Men typically either didn't react well, or they thought you were something to corrupt.

"Oh." There wasn't any judgement in his voice, just a hint of surprise. "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, that wasn't my intention." He gently went to move you off him, back to where you were sitting at first. He tried to subtly adjust his pants, but it wasn't all that subtle.

"No, no, you didn't make me uncomfortable at all. I promise," you assured him, hands cupping his cheeks. The worry on his face eased a bit. "I just thought I should tell you before anything went further."

"Thank you for telling me." The smile on his face returned. Thank God you, thought to yourself.

"We can keep going, if you want to?" The anxiety was right back in your voice, your moment of confidence gone.

"As much as I truly would like to..." His eyes lingered on your lips before looking you up and down. "I can't keep going knowing that you’re even a little bit tipsy. I want to make the moment special for you, really." You were more relieved than disappointed. You didn't put on cute underwear out of spite to Penny's comment yesterday, and that decision came back to bite you in the ass.

Socks had perfect timing, saving you from another moment of awkwardness by jumping onto the couch. You and Matty finished that episode of New Girl while Socks sat between you, enjoying the pets from Matty. When the episode ended, Matty had to go. It was one in the morning at this point. You got up and walked him to the door. Before he left, he grabbed your waist gently, and pulled you in for a soft goodbye kiss.

"Next Saturday at 6:00pm we are having that date at my place. I'll text you the address." With one last kiss and a smile, he walked out the door.

—

"YOU WHAT?"

"Penny, oh my God, shut up. We are at work."

"How did you expect me to react to you coming in here and telling me you and Matty dry humped on your couch last night?"

"PENNY."

"Am I wrong? Is that not exactly what you said?"

"I didn't say it like that."

"That's what I heard."

"It seems like you have selective hearing."

"I swear to God, if you don't wear cute underwear this time."

"I am not talking to you about my underwear at work, Penny."

"I'm just saying. Oh! Don't forget condoms!"

"SHUT UP!"

—

The week leading up to the next date was uneventful. Matty came in mid-week like normal. You didn't even ask if he wanted his usual and started his coffee right when he walked in the door.

"Not going to make sure my order hasn't changed? What if I've become an oat milk guy since I came in last?" He walked up to the counter with a grin on his face.

"You can't go changing up on me now, Matty."

"I would never," he laughed. "So, are we still on for Saturday?"

"Yeah, of course. What are you planning on cooking, by the way?"

"That's going to stay a surprise."

"Is that another way of saying you have no clue?" You handed him the coffee cup. His hand grazed yours.

"I'm not going to answer that."

"You still haven't given me your address."

"Oh shit, sorry," he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "There. Now you’ve got it," he said with a smile on his face.

"I'm looking forward to it. Just don't give me food poisoning."

"I'll try my best."

—

Saturday rolled around fast. After rummaging through your closet yet again, you chose a simple outfit, a hoodie and a pair of jeans. Once you fed Socks, you went out the door, trying not to be overcome with nerves. The walk to his apartment was just about ten minutes, like Matty had said before, so you didn't have too much time to dwell on those nerves. Reaching his door, you gave it a quick knock, and it swung open after a moment.

"I wasn't expecting you to be early."

"Matty, I'm five minutes late."

"Fuck, you're right," he said, looking at the time on his phone. "I must have lost track of time. Come on in. I'm still cooking." You stepped through the door into Matty's apartment, and you were met with chaos in the kitchen. Seemed like he hadn't even started yet. Two big pots sat on the stove top, and multiple cans of tomato were stacked onto the counter. He stood next to the counter, wearing an apron. Very cute.

"What are you even trying to make?"

"Uh... spaghetti?"

"Do you want some help?" You didn't want to be rude, but you wanted to eat something edible tonight.

"I want to say no, but I know if I do it will be a disaster." You walked into the kitchen and stood next to him, looking at the recipe he had printed out. The kitchen wasn't big. You were practically standing hip to hip. He was staring at the recipe printed out on the counter like he had no idea where to even begin. To be fair, the recipe he picked out wasn't an easy one.

"Matty, I think you managed to pick the most complicated spaghetti recipe I have ever seen. Go ahead and start the pot of water while I work on the sauce." Matty filled the pot with water, placed it on the stove, and then turned to you, watching you start the sauce.

"Sorry. I was supposed to be the one cooking for you."

"I love to cook. It's no trouble. Next time though, go for the pre-made sauce. Making it yourself is a pain in the ass."

"I'll redeem myself next time, promise."

The rest of the cooking went smoothly, for the most part. Matty almost burned the bread, but it was salvaged before the damage could be done. The both of you filled up your bowls with the spaghetti and went to sit on the couch.

"This is really fucking good," Matty said, after eating some of the spaghetti. It was true, you outdid yourself.

"I couldn't have done it without you."

"Oh, yes, you could have."

"Boiling the pasta is a very important job, Matty." He let out a strong laugh at your reply. He then reached over to grab the remote to the television off of the coffee table and hand it to you.

"Here. As a repayment for basically cooking all of dinner, you can put on whatever you would like."

"You're giving me a lot of power here."

"Choose wisely."

You racked your brain for a moment for a good movie to put on, and then it hit you. "Oh! I have the best movie in mind." A devilish smile spread across your face.

Matty watched as you searched for the movie, until you finally landed on it. "10 Things I Hate About You? Really?"

"What? It's a classic."

"It's cheesy."

"All classics are cheesy. You're the one that gave me remote control power here."

"If it's what you want to watch, then I guess it’s alright." Matty got up for a moment as you pressed play and took the empty bowls into the kitchen to put them in the sink. When he returned, he sat right next to you on the couch. You were already nervous, and he hadn't even done anything. As the movie played, you both made small talk about certain parts of the movie.

"It may be cheesy, but Patrick serenading Kat with the school band is a cinematic masterpiece."

"Okay, maybe the movie isn't as bad as I remembered." Matty took the opportunity to stretch out his arm around your shoulder and pull you into his side. With that simple movement, the movie was the last thought on your mind. All you could think about was the weight of Matty's arm wrapped around your shoulder, holding you close. Matty turned his face towards you. His eyes locked onto yours, and his lips were mere inches apart from you. "Are you paying attention to the movie?" He shifted, eyes staring at your lips before you spoke.

"Not really." Your voice held up under the nerves.

"Me neither," he paused. His brown eyes jumping back to meet yours. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes."

His lips met yours. At first, they moved soft and slow against your lips. Both of his hands cupped your face, and your hands made their way around the back of his neck. You were more confident with your movements against his lips than the last time, but he still left you dazed. Your breathing picked up, desperate for more of his mouth.

When his tongue flicked against your bottom lip, the kiss intensified. He moved one of his hands from your face and threaded it through your hair, firmly holding onto the back of your head. His other hand held your hip, and you made your way onto his lap, just as you were a week ago. Matty pulled away from you, but before you had time to react his lips connected to your neck. His lips and tongue worked in tandem, pulling small gasps out of your throat. Your heart was pounding onto your rib cage. Hands trembling behind his neck.

Matty could feel the tremors in your hands. Lifting up from your neck, his eyes met yours in sincerity. "Relax, sweetheart. I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to. You're safe with me." His words calmed you, as he continued to suck on your neck. Suddenly, his lips were replaced with the graze of his teeth, making you jolt. "Is that okay?" His voice was muffled against your neck before he relocated to another spot near your collar bone.

"Mhm," you hummed in response. You didn't want to know how needy your voice would sound if you tried to speak out your answer. His lips were hot and unrelenting against your neck, leaving marks behind. His tongue ran along all the places he bit and sucked at, soothing them.

Both of his hands moved to hold your thighs that straddled his hips. Fingertips digging into them. His grip tightened as you carefully began to move against his hips. Matty broke off from your neck, looking you deep in the eyes. His hands slipped underneath your hoodie, tracing the skin underneath it. His touch on your bare skin drew a small sound from your mouth. Your skin was fiery from the contact of his fingertips. The touch was careful and hesitant, but it was clear what he wanted.

"Can I take this off?" His voice was timid and out of breath. He didn't want to go too fast.

"Yeah," you whispered. Your voice was in the same shape as his. Apprehension was laced in your words. As soon as you gave your answer, his hands slipped your hoodie right off. His eyes bore into you as he looked down at your body, panting through parted lips.

"Fucking hell. Did you wear this for me?" The gaze of his eyes was so intense you had to break the stare. You rested your face in the crook his neck at his comment, losing courage fast. You did indeed listen to Penny this time, and bought a lacy black bra and underwear set earlier this week.

"I was worried it was going to be a little bit much." Face still hidden away from him.

"No, no, it's not. Don't hide your face," he said, fingers clutching your chin and guiding your face, so it was inches away from his, forcing you to be eye to eye once again. Matty removed his own shirt before connecting your lips back together, giving you the chance to run your hands down his bare chest. Your fingertips traced over the tattoo in the middle of his chest, and his reaction was immediate. His tongue worked its way into your mouth, pulling all the air out of your lungs as you continued to grind your hips onto him.

Without warning, Matty pulled you up from the couch by your hips and led you back towards his bedroom. His lips locked against yours until you made it into the room. The back of your legs hit the bed behind you, and then he broke away. Matty held eye contact as he sunk down to his knees in front of you, holding onto the back of your thighs. His eyes passionately looked up into yours, alternating between your wide eyes and your lips, completely enamored by you. He couldn't look away. Your lips were puffy from the previous kisses. You stared right back as his hands traced along the top of your jeans.

"Can I take these off?" he asked. He meant it when he said he wouldn't do anything you didn't want to do. He was going to make sure everything he did was okay. You hastily nodded in response to his question, but that wasn't enough. He needed more than that. "I need to hear you say it, love." He gave the skin above the waistline a small, open-mouthed kiss before looking back at you.

"Yes, you can do whatever you want." he chuckled slightly at your eagerness, but he was just as desperate for you. His hands slowly undid the button of your jeans before he pulled them down over your hips and thighs, keeping his eyes connected with yours as his hands removed your jeans. By the look of desire on his face, and the budge in his pants, you could tell he enjoyed your choice of underwear. The black lace against your skin was a sight he would have to commit to memory.

He stood back up and sat you down on his bed. He stayed right in front of you as he took off his own jeans with haste; pupils wide and blown. His lips were swollen and red, a sheen of saliva on them. You reached out for him, anxious for his touch. Hands running up into his brown curls pulling him down to kiss you, tugging the brown locks.

At the feeling of you pulling his hair, he groaned into your mouth. Unsure of what to do next, you let one of your hands glide down his chest, towards the growing bulge in his boxers. Before you made it, though, he intercepted your hand with his own. His hand completely covered yours as he pulled back to look at you.

"Did I do something wrong?" you asked.

"No, darling, you didn't do anything wrong," he reassured you quickly. His other hand came up to hold the side of your face, brushing your lower lip lightly with his thumb. "I just want to take care of you tonight. Is that alright?"

"If that's what you want to do."

"It most certainly is." Matty moved to sit up on the bed, but he didn't sit next to you. Instead, he sat towards the top of the bed, sitting against the plush headboard. He leaned back against it with his legs spread. "Come here. Lay back against my chest." Your confusion must have shown on your face as you stayed where you were sitting for a moment. "Stop thinking about it so hard, babe." His voice was teasing, but his face was genuine as he motioned you over to him. You listened, and crawled towards him on the bed, turning around so your back laid against his bare chest. The contact with his skin made you shiver. His thighs were on either side of your hips. You could feel yourself pressed into every part of him.

The nerves you thought had calmed down flared back up as you waited for Matty to make his next move. He began by taking his hands and placing them on your thighs. Matty rubbed up and down the lengths of your thighs before he pulled them away from each other to spread your legs apart, mirroring his own. His lips found your neck again, leaving kisses and small bites from the back of your ear all the way down to the crook of your neck. His hands moved from your thighs, dragging them along your hip bone until they spanned across your stomach. He decided to speak again. His breath hot in your ear.

"God, you look so good in lace. Going to be a shame to take it off." Your breath hitched as one of his fingers dipped under the waist band, but he made no effort to remove the undergarment. His hands moved again, this time towards your chest. "I think this can stay on as a compromise," he said with his hands over your breasts. He was teasing you. One of his hands glided down your stomach back to the waistband of your underwear. The other hand gripped you around the waist, pulling you in so you were against his groin. "Feel how hard you're making me?" You pushed your ass back against him, forcing a groan leaving his lips from the pressure.

"Is this okay?" he asked, fingers toying with the waist band. All you could manage was a gasp. "Use your words sweetheart." His voice was firm, but still gentle as he ran his fingertips tentatively underneath the waistband.

"Yes, please," you replied in a whimper. He trailed his middle and ring finger down to tease at your inner thighs before he finally placed them over your clothed clit. Matty planned to drag this out as long as possible. He pressed down in small, very slow circles, causing you to jerk back against him. A moan slipped from your throat.

"That feel good?" He left another hot, open-mouthed kiss on your neck before he trailed his fingers down lower, feeling your arousal through the underwear. "Already this wet for me? You must want it bad, huh?" His fingers continued to move against your clit over your underwear. You were growing restless, practically whining as your hips moved against his fingers, craving his touch on your skin, but he was unyielding. He wanted you to ask for it. "What? You need something else?" he asked, voice thick and sultry.

"Matty, please."

"Please what? If you want me to touch you, you're going to have to tell me with your words."

"Touch me. Please touch me. Please, please, please." You were gasping for air. Your chest moving up and down at a fast pace. You wanted him. No, you needed him.

"Such a good girl. That wasn't so hard, was it?" His comment made the blood rise to your cheeks. "I'm going to take these off now, alright?" He grabbed the waistband of the underwear and pulled them down your thighs. You stifled a gasp when his fingers pressed against you. One of your hands reached behind you to thread through his hair, while the other went to cover your mouth as he began to circle you in a fast motion. Matty wasn't going to allow that. His free hand coming up to pull your hand from over your mouth. "I want to hear how good I'm making you feel.”

You don't think you could have held back your moans even if you tried, whining at the movement of his hand. Your hips moved aimlessly against his. The constant movement against his erection was becoming too much. His groans were hot against your ear. His arm wrapped around your waist and pinned it to him, ceasing your movements. "This is about you sweetheart, remember?" he added, voice strained. He trailed a finger downwards, gently circling your entrance. "Can I?"

"Please," you begged. You wanted as much of him as he would give you.

He slowly worked a finger into you, waiting until you were comfortable before thrusting deep in and out of you at a careful pace. "Fuck, you're so wet," he breathed into your ear. By this point, his other hand moved its way past your breasts and rested around your neck, giving your neck a gentle, but constant squeeze. You choked out a moan at the pressure on your neck, writhing against his groin once again. Heat spread across your skin. You knew he wanted to be careful with you, but you couldn't take the slow pace of his movements. You needed more.

"Matty, please put another one in and go faster. I'm not going to break, please." you begged. You were desperate, you didn't care if you sounded that way.

"Eager?" he replied. You didn't have to beg again, though. He wanted to please you. Matty pushed another finger into you and increased his pace, curling his fingers up so they brushed against a spot that made you jerk against him.

"Oh, fuck," you cried out, tightening your grasp in his hair. Your head fell back against his shoulder as his fingers thrusted in and out of you, going deeper and deeper with every stroke. The heat began to build in your lower stomach, wounding tighter with each of his movements. His hand left your neck and rested below your navel. He pushed down onto your lower stomach with his hand while his fingers continued to move. A choked sob left your lips. The tension within you was growing tighter.

"You like that?" he asked as if he didn't already know the answer, picking up the pace of his hand. You pulsed around his fingers with every stroke inside of you.

"Matty—" you rasped. His name was the only thing you were sure of right now. His fingers hitting every spot you needed them to. The heat in your stomach was reaching a breaking point.

"Something you're trying to tell me, love?"

"Please. I'm so close, please."

Immediately, he drew his hand from your stomach and began to circle your clit. The sensation from both hands was too much. Your hips stuttering against him. Electricity began to run through your skin as your hands went down to grasp at his thighs for support. Nails digging into the skin.

"Go on, sweetheart. Don't hold back," he murmured. His lips reattached to your neck, sucking hard on your pulse point.

His words, the feeling of his tongue, and the prodding of his hands sent you over the edge. You cried out his name at your release. Your muscles tensed around his fingers as the pleasure enveloped you, trembling in his hold.

"That's it. That's a good girl," he whispered into your ear, continuing to rub your clit to help you come down.

You stayed against him, trying to catch your breath as he removed his fingers from inside of you. Your skin still buzzing with pleasure as his other hand held your chin to pull you in for a kiss. Wanting to deepen the kiss, you turned around to sit in his lap, but he held back your face before your lips could meet his. His fingers that were inside you came up to prod against your lower lip.

"Clean them off for me, yeah?" he asked. His pupils were so wide you could barely make out the brown ring around them.

You did what he asked, opening your mouth to take his fingers in as far as they would go. Your lips closed around his fingers while your tongue pressed against them; you could taste yourself on his fingers. He slowly dragged them out of your mouth, never breaking eye contact with you. You craved more of him.

"Please fuck me," you begged, voice shaky.

Matty sucked in a sharp breath. He wanted all of you, but he was determined to wait. His hands held both sides of your face before he spoke. "Next time, but not tonight, okay? I just wanted to take care of you tonight, to take things slow."

"I want to make you feel good, too. Please, Matty." Your hands were on his chest, raking your fingernails down him softly. The only thing separating your bodies was the thin fabric of his boxers. He was still hard against you, straining against the fabric.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," he insisted. Although, he was losing composure fast at the feeling of you against him with nearly no separation.

"If you won't fuck me..." you breathed out, moving your hips. He winced as you ground down against him. "Is there something else you'll let me do to get you off? You can use my mouth if you want." He groaned at the thought of your lips wrapped around him but pushed the image aside. That would happen later, not tonight.

"Fucking hell, I'll compromise. You can jerk me off. That alright?"

"Yes," you replied with a quick nod. "I'll do anything you'll let me."

"Go ahead," he prompted, voice thin. You went to move off of his lap, kneeling beside him. You gradually ran your hand down from his chest tattoo until you reached the bulge in his underwear. You splayed your hand over his clothed erection and pressed down carefully, looking him in the eye. His hips jerked against your hand as you continued to apply pressure. "Fuck," he groaned. You moved your hands upward to hook around his waist band, pulling the garment down.

He was big. A bead of precum formed at his tip. Your hand trembled as you grasped around his cock. Your fingers barely made their way all around him. His chest moved up and down as he breathed deeply, watching as you held him in your hand. Unsure of exactly how to do this well, you looked up at him.

"Do you want some guidance?" he asked without you having to say anything. His eyes were glazed over as they looked back down on you. You nodded hesitantly in response, and this time he didn't pry at your lack of words. "Alright." His hand moved down until it was wrapped around yours over his cock. His hand completely encapsulated yours, making you feel small next to him. He began to guide your hand to move up and down his shaft at a careful pace. His breath picked up at the feeling of your hand around him, struggling to speak out his next set of instructions.

"Just start out slow, don't press too hard at the tip." You continued to follow the movements of his hand, occasionally glancing up to see the look on his face. His lips were parted, still puffy. Pieces of hair hanged down over his forehead. He removed his hand from yours to let you touch him on your own. You were still careful with your movements, but held him firmly in your grasp, using his precum to glide your hand at a faster pace.

You were still unsure of yourself. "Is that good?" you asked, meeting his dark eyes.

"Fuck. Yeah, that's good keep going just like that." His words only egged you on. You increased your pace, giving the head of his cock a gentle squeeze. His head fell back against the headboard as a choked sound left his lips. You took his exposed neck as an opportunity to attach your lips to his neck, sucking right above his collarbone while continuously moving your hand. His hips jerked when your lips met his neck. "Shit, love. You're so good. Fuck."

He was getting close. His lower stomach was tensing, and his cock pulsated in your hand. Strained sounds were coming out of his mouth. You removed your lips from his neck and moved your freehand to the back of his head, forcing him to look you in the eyes. The eye contact was all it took. He spilled over your hand while you continued to stroke him through his orgasm. His first instinct was to pull you in by the back of your head for a quick, but heated kiss.

"Here, let me get you some tissues," he said, reaching for the box of tissues on his nightstand to clean up the mess on your hand. You stopped him with your clean hand.

"No, I got it," you replied, eyes dark. You took each of your fingers into your mouth, licking them clean while he watched with his mouth wide open.

"Shit. How about we do this again, same time next week?"

“Is that gonna be the ‘next time’ you mentioned earlier?”

“You’ll have to find out, won’t you?”

#matty healy #the 1975 #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty healy fanfic #the 1975 fanfic #smut #writing #this is cross posted to ao3 so go give it a kudos pls #hopefully this isn’t bad #reposted this on here to make it aesthetic

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lizzybeth1986 · 6 years

Text

Nuestra Familia (RCD MC: Astrid)

Book: Red Carpet Diaries

Rating: G

Pairing: Astrid-centric, minor Seth x Astrid

Summary: Astrid realises she doesn't know her family as well she had thought. Minor crossover with The Freshman/The Sophomore/The Junior.

Author's Note: This is a bit late for MC Appreciation Week, but I figured I'd put it out there anyway. This is my origin story for Astrid Ortega, my second RCD MC, who is involved with Seth. There's a cameo of one character from TF/TS/TJ in the end and I have a feeling you folks have already figured out who it is 😅 I used (of course) the "crossover" prompt from this list for my fic. I'm tagging @choices-mc-rules, in case they would still like to reblog this.

Translations:

Nuestra familia - "our family" in Spanish.

Chanclas - slippers/flip-flops

Tres leches cake - Typically a very moist chiffon cake soaked in a mixture of evaporated milk, condensed milk and heavy cream. Tres leches literally means "three milks".

Abuela - one of the terms used for ‘grandmother’ in Spanish.

Ita - Short for Abuelita, also used for grandmothers. Astrid calls her grandmother the former, her mom Teresa calls her grandmother the latter.

Manda Huevos - Can mean a lot of things according to context, but generally used to express a range of emotions, such as annoyance, disappointment, contempt or disbelief. In this context, Teresa means “it's not fair”.

If I've gotten anything wrong in terms of references, please do tell me, and I'll definitely fix it in the fic.

“One more foot inside my kitchen and it'll be my chanclas for you later.”

Teresa Ortega said these words to her daughter Astrid, in the same tone one would use to offer a guest some tea.

It wasn't that her mom didn't allow her kids to help with the cooking. She did. Salome was too young to do much but set the table yet but Astrid (and her big sister Letitia, whenever she was home) often pitched in to help with the meal.

But heaven help anyone who tried to help Mom with her tres leches cake.

This recipe was from Mom's Ita’s faded little diary, passed down to her by her mother on the condition that she would learn its recipes off by heart. It was her pride and joy, Mom would often say. Her baby before her actual babies came along.

And today it was even more essential Mom get this cake right. Astrid's abuela was visiting, and ever since Astrid's mother insisted on naming her Astrid (“She’s already named my first and last - at least leave the middle one to me!”) she could do nothing right.

Perhaps it would've been easier to handle if Dad wasn't Abuela's only son, if Mom had someone she could jointly ignore Abuela with, if they had cousins they could play with while the adults sorted out their issues. Or perhaps not. Still, it would have been nice to know.

“Easy, mom, I'm not going to touch your precious cake,” Astrid said, grinning, “Lemme demolish it at lunch instead.”

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't tempted, though. She could get the scent of baked cake wafting in all the way from her bedroom, and her mother was already starting to combine Carnation milk, condensed milk and 1/4th of a cup of heavy cream into a thin, but somewhat creamy, mixture.

Mom raised her eyebrows. “Why are you here, then?”

Astrid felt the muscles around her neck tense up, but schooled her face to a look of injured innocence. “What, can't I just want to talk to my mom once in a while?”

She craned her neck a little further behind Astrid, a tiny frown beginning to form between her brows. “What's that you're holding behind your back?”

Ding! The cake was ready now, just in time for soaking. Astrid let out a sigh of relief. She wanted Mom to see this wedding card, yes - it was why she came to the kitchen in the first place - but now was probably not the time for questions. Questions about family or about secrets. Not when she knew how important it was for her mother to get her weekend cakes right.

“Family” was always a big deal around the Ortega table. Dad was his mother's only child, and Mom’s parents passed on long before any of them were ever born. Her father was as annoyed by Abuela's antics as her mother was, but it never stopped him from having her visit every Sunday because “she's the only family we have left”.

It was as if he needed her to keep himself rooted, as if without her he would be floating aimlessly, no aim or identity, taking his wife and children down that path with him. Abuela knew this. By God, did she know this.

Or so I thought, Astrid said to herself, gripping the wedding card tightly and creating new creases where the word Ortega was written.

Mom was gritting her teeth now, carefully pouring the three-milk mixture over the cake and muttering to herself. “One more word about dry cake this time and I'll give her soggy toast, I swear I will.”

Astrid would have stood up last week and said something to Abuela, if only Mom would let her. It was probably a good thing Leticia wasn't around, she'd fire shots at Abuela for less. She was protective over all of them and often in the heat of the moment she'd forget she’d be landing them all in further trouble.

She was still muttering. “Wants chiffon cake. Screams bloody murder if I use box mix. What, Teresa, looking for shortcuts again?” Mom's voice was raised in an accurately nasal imitation of Abuela's voice. It was almost like she'd forgotten Astrid was there. “Then I make it from scratch like she wants. Then it's Oh Teresa this is so dry oh Teresa it tastes like sawdust. Why else do you think I use box mix, eh? You want it from scratch and you want moist. ¡Manda Huevos!”

The diatribe kept Mom occupied while she finished pouring, so Astrid kept silent. Mom needed this. This wasn't something she can say in front of Letitia (resulting in another Sunday screaming match) or Dad (what would he do?) or Salome (no way would the kid ever take Salome, language! seriously again). Mom needed someone to have her back, no matter how silently or secretly. And that someone had better be her.

“If only Linda had stayed…”

Astrid froze. “What did you say?”

Mom looked up, blinked twice, then stiffened. “Nothing. Nothing.”

Silently, Astrid handed over the card she'd been holding, all this time. She found it while searching for her dad's treasured García Lorca poetry collection, hidden between a page that exalted love and a page that mourned loss.

Mom took it from her, her eyes widening as she read the words.

LINDA ORTEGA

and

DOMINIC SANDOVAL

request the honour of your company at their wedding.

“Dad always told us he was all Abuela has, right,” Astrid said, “The only Ortega for miles around."

Mom answered by busying herself with more activity than ever. Keeping the soaked cake in the fridge. Pouring the remaining milk mixture into two glasses. Washing her hands. Washing the dishes.

“I'll do that for you,” Astrid took a plate from Mom's hands, “Just talk to me.” She grabbed a sponge and dish washing soap, cleaning vigorously. “All this time, Dad's been telling us Abuela's the only family he has, Mom. Like, he has no one else. Like, we have no sisters or brothers besides the three of us. Was he lying?”

“You're wrong,” Mom said, her voice suddenly sounding sharper, harder, “Abuela's the only family he has left. Your father didn't lie.”

“Just omitted the truth, yeah,” Astrid wished she knew how she felt about this. Right now there was so much she was feeling that she didn't exactly know where to begin. “There's no “together with our parents” above their names either. Not like yours’.”

Mom sighed, picked the card up, then held up two glasses of milk-mixture in front of her. “Take one and give the other to your sister. I have a lot of work to do.”

On any other day, Astrid would have grabbed that glass and relished its creaminess, wiping the milk-moustache off her mouth with a flourish. But today no amount of sweetness was going to take away that weird metallic taste in the roof of her mouth.

“I'm not done asking about this,” Astrid said, scowling, “to you or to Dad. If I have aunts and cousins out there, that's something I wanna know.”

Astrid did try in the weeks to come. But she never saw the wedding card again, and neither Mom or Dad ever responded when she raised the topic again. Still. It felt nice to dream.

Every time Abuela made a snide remark at lunch, she imagined her cousins there. A snarky younger girl who’d make smartass comments. A strong boy her age who’d shut Abuela up with just a glare. A nice aunt who’d take Mom's mind off all this nonsense. It didn't help much, but it felt nice.

It felt nice knowing she had company out there. Somewhere.

6 years later.

“Donuts, Iowa?” Seth’s eyes were gleaming at the prospect. He was more a bag-of-chips kinda guy most days, but he also liked having massive sugar rushes before a comedy gig.

“As long as the insides of six of those are practically spilling over with fruit jam, I'm game,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. It felt exhilarating, freeing. She hadn't felt this normal in a while - normal enough to kiss her boyfriend without worrying about paparazzo jumping out from a bush. There was a guy in a leather jacket she didn't recognize - three blocks across - looking at her like he wanted to talk, but not in a way that made her feel unsafe.

That was the nice thing about Northbridge. People looked, sure, but they were less likely to make you feel like an exhibit from a zoo.

“Wait here, yeah?” Seth said, planting a kiss on the lips instead, “I'll be back before you can finish spelling “OHIO” with your arms.”

Astrid laughed. Seth said the most Ohio things sometimes. Neither of them had had this much fun since she was offered a lead role in Tender Nothings, which was why Seth always jumped at a chance to take up gigs in Northbridge, and why he always offered to take Astrid along when she was free.

The guy from before stepped forward a few minutes after Seth entered the donut shop. The summer heat must have been too much for him - his leather jacket was now slung over his shoulders. “Um, hello. Astrid Ortega?”

He stood with his hands in his pockets, mouth pursed into a thin line, a tiny curl slipping carelessly from his hair and resting on his forehead. She caught a peek at the tail end of a bird tattoo (Owl? The tail looked pointy) on his left arm.

“Yeah,” Astrid said, wondering whether it was her or Seth he wanted to talk to, “but I don't know what your name is.”

“ Zigmund. Zig for short,” he replied, looking behind him from time to time, “My sister Lucy’s a big fan. Asked me to help her get an autograph from you.”

“Is she here?”

“Yeah. But she doesn't want to come out. She's shy.”

Ah. So that was the cherry-red blur barely hidden by that building. She learned long ago that no matter how friendly you appeared, your image would precede you and intimidate people anyway. Autographs were great, but somehow she didn't want to stop at just that.

“Would she come out now if I asked?” she gave him her sunniest smile, “Tell her I won't bite.”

Zig hesitated, then nodded. Astrid watched him walk to the other building, move his hands expressively as he tried to convince his sister to join him (from that angle he almost looks like Letitia, Astrid thought), and return with a curly-haired, starry-eyed teenage girl.

“H-hey,” she said, then blushed, clearly embarrassed by her nervousness. Silently, she hands over her autograph book. She keeps her eyes studiously away from Astrid's face. “I, um, I like mystery films, and I really, really liked Tender Nothings.”

A girl after my own heart. “Maybe you'll like Sunset Boulevard, then,” she said, smiling.

Astrid could have just signed and left it at that, but there was something about these two. Something about the way they stood together, or exchanged glances, or something, that reminded her of home. Which was silly. But it didn’t change the fact that she wanted to leave a good impression on them.

“What would you like to be when you grow up, Lucy?”

Lucy didn't miss a beat. “Ballet dancer. Like my brother.”

Astrid smiled, particularly at the look the girl gave Zig. Yes, she could see on second glance that even though some people would say he didn't have the body of a dancer, he held himself with a certain grace, a certain lightness that belied a stronger core. Hit by a sudden rush of inspiration, she quickly scribbled a little note to go with her signature, and asked Lucy to read it.

To Lucy and Zig, future (hopefully!) best ballet dancing duo in America. Be sure to save me a seat when you folks get famous. Love Always, Astrid.

“Wowwww,” Lucy whispered. Zig suppressed his smile, trying not to let how he felt show, and failed. A corner of his mouth lifted upwards, revealing an almost-invisible dimple.

The two left before Seth brought his box of donuts,but they thanked her at least thrice as they walked away.

“Wait till I tell Mom about this,” Astrid overheard Lucy tell her brother as they left, “I told you she'd be really, really nice.”

“You did,” there was a note of indulgence in Zig's voice.

"Ortegas all around the world. Wherever we're from, we're nice.”

Had Seth come out a moment later, Astrid would have probably walked up to them and asked. Perhaps asked them where they were from and their parents’ names.

But Seth was here, with donuts, and there was never a moment she could take her eyes off either.

“Do you know those two?” Seth asked her, passing her a tres leches cake donut that was claimed to be one of their best, “They looked familiar.”

“”No,” Astrid replied, closing her eyes in bliss. Mmmm. The treat was taking her back to Des Moines, back to home, back to her mother's little kitchen. “But I wouldn't mind meeting them again.”

#fanfic #red carpet diaries #the freshman #the sophomore #the junior #rcd mc #astrid ortega #seth levine #zig ortega #lucy ortega #seth x astrid #playchoices crossover #seth x mc #mc appreciation week

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