#promptober75

[toomuchracket]

costumes (birthday party!matty x reader smut)

day 30 of promptober, and we're coming full circle on toomuchracket with some smut for these two! this is actually incredibly smutty, but kinda cute too - basically, matty's scientist halloween costume is really bloody doing it for you. enjoy! <3

"text me so i know you're home safe, yeah?"

"of course, babe. thanks for having us," your friend kisses your cheek, before being pulled away by her fiancé towards the waiting taxi. "and don't forget - bridesmaid dress shopping next week!"

"like you'd let me forget!" you shout after her. "bye, darlings!"

you wave until the gate closes behind them, and you're about to shut the front door when you hear matty call from the bottom of the steps down to the living room. "ah! wait a second before you close that door, please, sweetheart."

"why, baby?" your brow furrows, as your boyfriend walks slowly up towards you, the lab coat he's wearing as part of his scientist costume blowing slightly in the breeze from the open door. "d'you need fresh air, or something?"

matty smiles softly, leaning against the concrete wall when he reaches you and the landing. "nah. just wanted to look at you in the moonlight, s'all. you're glowing, babe."

"you- stop it, you're making me blush," you huff out; not in irritation, but rather slightly self-consciously, arms wrapping around your body as if to shield it from your boyfriend's gaze. you know he means it - he's complimented you in a similarly devastating way almost daily for the past eight months, after all - but you can't help but be overwhelmed by it. and by matty in general, actually.

the boyfriend in question giggles, and the love in his eyes is unmistakable even in the dim, pale moonlight. "but it's true! you're ethereal. apt, i guess, given the angel costume. which i still think is lovely, even if it is just white lingerie and a halo. not that i'm saying you shouldn't have worn it - not at all, my god, you look perfect - but i'd have appreciated a warning, sweetheart. thought my knees were going to give way when you walked into the kitchen earlier."

the memory of matty's face when he first saw you tonight crosses your mind, pulling a satisfied hum from your throat as it does. you'd suspected the white silk babydoll dress would have an effect on him, but not to the extent it did; he's pretty good at keeping his cool whenever you rile him up around your friends (inadvertently or not), but he almost dropped his wine glass in time with his jaw when you entered the room, eyes widening under his glasses.

those fucking glasses.

"mine almost did, too, baby," you gently close the door and walk slowly towards your boyfriend, swaying your hips very deliberately so your dress swishes and exposes your bare thighs.

just as you'd intended, matty's eyes lock onto your legs, pretty lips parting in desire - annoyingly, though, he snaps out of your little trance to look up at your face and smirk. "well, those heels are really high, sweetheart."

"i mean, yeah, but that's not the reason my legs almost gave out, baby," you smile as you reach matty, moving to lean your back against the wall beside him, looping your arms around his shoulders and tugging him into you. shifting your weight onto one leg (and winking at your boyfriend when he holds your waist to steady you), you cheekily slide the side of your foot up the side of his shin. "do you like my heels, though?"

matty's breath catches in his throat, which he has to clear before he speaks. "they're… yeah, they're sexy. i like them a lot. but," he regains control of himself again, which would irk you if he wasn't so sexy when he's self-assured. "if it wasn't the shoes that affected you, darling, then what was it? or who, perhaps?"

the smirk drops from your face, while a shit-eating grin appears on matty's. you sigh, twirling his curls around your fingers. "you're really going to make me admit it?"

"you know i like it when you tell me what gets you going, darling," matty's hands slide down your hips and up under your dress, coming (home) to rest on your ass. you shiver, partially from his cool touch, partially from the way his lips ghost up your neck. "come on. open up, gorgeous."

"it - oh, i like that," you whimper as your boyfriend sucks a bruise above your clavicle. "jesus, fuck… ok, fine, it was your glasses that got me."

matty's head snaps up to look at you immediately; you pout at the loss of his lips on your skin. "my glasses?"

"yeah," you look at the ground, feeling the heat of a blush creeping up your cheeks. "i think they're really sexy."

"really? in what way?"

you nervously peek at matty, expecting to see him smirking smugly at you - you're pleasantly surprised to see he looks genuinely curious. "promise you won't laugh?"

your boyfriend nods. "cross my heart."

"alright. well," you begin, smiling shyly at him. "this is kinda porny…"

you don't think you've ever seen matty's eyes light up so quickly in your life. boys, honestly.

"...but you look like a really hot nerd tonight, and i haven't stopped thinking about, like, pretending to sneak you into my bedroom so you can help me with my biology homework. reproduction," you giggle nervously at how daft you sound. "i know it's silly. but it's all i can think about."

matty's hands pause their gentle kneading. he stays silent, looking at you with an unreadable expression in his eyes and the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

that smile should make you feel alright about your fantasy, but it's matty. he's never quiet. neither are you, in this moment, panic making you babble. "but like obviously we've never tried roleplay and actually i don't know if i'd even like it i just think in theory it's hot and of course if you're not into it we can just forget i ever said anything and never address it again and-"

"darling," matty firmly cuts off your rambling, which you're actually quite thankful for given that your body's oxygen supply is rapidly depleting with every word. "does this make it seem like i'm not into it?"

his hands slip to the backs of your thighs and lift you up, eliciting a squeak from you as you automatically wrap your legs around your boyfriend's waist. he grinds his hips into you, as slow as dripping honey, and all nerves about his response to your admittance slip out of your mind, under the front door, off into the cold night.

matty's hard. really hard.

it's your face's turn to light up. "you like my daydream, then?"

"wanna make it a reality, sweetheart," matty smiles, kissing you - long and slow, just the way you like it. he blinks quite adorably when he pulls away for air. "right now, if you'll let me."

"please," you breathe against his lips. "been waiting for everyone else to fuck off all night so you could take me to bed."

"oh, sweet girl, you needed me that much?" matty coos, grinding into you again as he does. "let's go and do something about that, then."

with that, you set off, matty carrying you through the house to the bedroom with surprising speed. you don't know why you're surprised, though - you've done this too many times to count since that first night you got together. a happy little hum leaves your lips as you remember that night - the best of your life, it has to be said - and how desperate you were for matty to fuck you. nothing's changed on that front; you don't think it ever will.

he's gotten better at laying you down on the bed, though. instead of the graceless chucking of your first time, matty sets you down gently at the end of the bed and crawls over you, caging your body to the mattress and locking his lips onto yours. it's not a sweet kiss, by any means; his teeth sink deliciously into your lip, just the perfect amount of painful, and his tongue follows, soothing the bite and adding the pleasure. matty kisses like he does everything in life, with total conviction and determination, and you can't get enough. so much so that you can't stop yourself whining when he pulls away.

"oh, you are needy today, darling," matty smirks. "i love it. and i love you."

"i love you," you sit up on your elbows to kiss him again. "make me feel good, please?"

"always," matty kisses your forehead, hands trailing up to your shoulders, dexterous fingers sliding under the straps of your dress. "may i?"

for the second, but likely not the last time tonight: "please."

he obliges, sliding the straps and cups of your lingerie down, gently lifting your hips to slide the silk off your body and throw it carelessly to the floor. half-naked, you rest back on your elbows and just drink in the way matty looks at you with a cocktail of adoration and sheer want in his eyes; an odd mix, really, but you think it's delicious.

and as content as you are to have him look at you like that, you'd be more content reminding him of how delicious you are. careful that your stilettos don't catch on the bedsheets, you pull your knees closer to you and spread your legs. "i think i'm ready to begin my lesson now."

matty smirks. it's devastatingly attractive. "will you be a good girl for me?"

you steal his line. "always."

"that's what i like to hear. gold star for you, darling," he leans forward to kiss you again, but springs back quickly to gawk at you. "wait a fucking minute."

"what?"

that bloody smirk again. "this is all to do with your academic validation thing, isn't it?"

that's the thing about matty - he knows you better than you know yourself. shit. the blush returns full force to your cheeks, burning enough to heat your whole naked body on this chilly october night. "fuck. probably. is that a turn-off?"

"is it fuck," matty scoffs. he cups one of your tits, smiling at the way you jerk when he gently squeezes it. "i fucking love praising you, baby, almost as much as i love getting you off. and i'm about to do both of those things. yeah?"

"yeah," you reply breathily, as his other hand comes up to your other tit. "fuck, that's good."

matty hums happily. "lesson number one, gorgeous," he quickly pushes his glasses back up his nose, and you clench your thighs at the sight. "breasts. a quick lesson, because they're not too involved in the stage of reproduction we're learning about today, but," he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, smiling around the bud as you moan. "they're fun to play with during it. understand?"

your head is spinning, and he hasn't even properly done anything yet; you force it to nod, pre-empting his request for verbal answers and squeaking out a "yes". jesus. telling matty about this fantasy was a great idea.

he seems to think so too, sliding his hand down your body and beaming when he makes contact with your soaked underwear. "oh, sweetheart, i think i'm going to need a closer look at this."

"wait," you sit up quickly as matty prepares to shuffle further down the bed, carefully taking his glasses off and putting them safely on the bedside table. "there we go."

matty's brow furrows. "but i need those?"

you smirk. "not if you're going get up close and personal with me, you don't. feel free to put them back on later, though!"

"fair enough, darling," matty moves to kneel on the floor at the foot of the bed, tugging you towards him by the calves. "let me just… uncover the next specimen for analysis, yeah?"

with a giggle, you lift your hips so your boyfriend can slide your panties off; with a wink, he puts them in the breast pocket of his lab coat, and spreads your legs again. there's something really fucking hot about matty being fully clothed while you're naked, save your heels, and you feel the heat shoot straight to your core; it must show visibly, too, because matty groans as he looks at your cunt from millimetres away. "a fucking perfect specimen. and," he presses a kiss to your inner thigh as he looks up at you. "already nicely aroused. very nicely, to be precise."

fuck. this is doing it for you far more than you expected, probably because matty's committing to the bit so much. not that you'd expect anything less from him, but it's good that he's having just as much fun with this as you are.

the praise makes you preen. "all for you, baby."

"good girl."

another gush. matty's face lights up. "beautiful," he smiles at you, that full-face beam you'd do absolutely anything to see, and your heart feels like it might pack in from how much you love him. "and more than ready for our next lesson. are you happy to continue, sweet girl?"

"eagerly so."

"ideal. now, this section isn't strictly intrinsic to the act of reproduction, but i maintain that if you aren't including it you don't deserve to reproduce. or do anything at all, for that matter," matty says matter-of-factly, and you have to cover your mouth to prevent bursting into laughter and killing the mood. "female pleasure. i assume you're familiar with the sensation, darling?"

"extremely."

your boyfriend can't help himself. "too fucking right you are, my girl," he clears his throat and composes himself. "anyway. clitoral stimulation - often overlooked or deeply misunderstood by the male subspecies, a truth you'll unfortunately likely also be familiar with, but extremely pleasurable to the receiver and giver if done correctly. there are multiple methods of stimulation; one of the most common is digital. that is, with the digits, like so."

as his sentence draws to a close, matty's calloused thumb quickly finds your clit and begins circling slowly. as soon as he makes contact with the bundle of nerves, a choked moan escapes your lips, the first of a series of sounds your boyfriend draws out of you as he varies tempo and pressure of his hand movements. an epicurean symphony isn't the only thing matty manages to draw out of your body as he works your clit; after a few minutes and several rough kisses to your inner thighs, you can feel an orgasm building within your body, matty seemingly pulling pure pleasure out of your very bones through your clit.

agonisingly, just as you open your mouth to warn him of your imminent climax, he slows down his circling. "of course, other methods may be preferred dependent on the individual giver. for example, in my own personal opinion, the superior form of clitoral stimulation is… oral."

jesus christ.

you're barely able to inhale a full breath before matty's mouth is on you, and you lose it all anyway by screaming as his lips and tongue suck and lick and flick at your clit. he's relentless, all composure gone, tugging you impossibly closer to his eager mouth as he all but makes out with your just-as-eager cunt. the pleasure builds again inside you, faster this time, and you can feel yourself beginning to teeter on the precipice of orgasm when…

he fucking pulls away again. the bastard.

you whine, and matty kisses your lower stomach in what appears to be apology. "i know, sweetheart, i know," he coos, thumb feather-light on your clit. "you're being such a good girl for me, learning all your lessons so well. one more lesson to go, my darling, and then i'll make you feel good without interruption, yeah?"

"promise?" you croak out.

"i promise, sweet girl," matty nods. "because this is where it starts to get a bit more like the classic act of reproduction - we're introducing penetration. now," he slides two fingers up and down your cunt, covering them in your wetness and pressing them on the sides of your clit, making you jolt. "this can be done as an independent act, but i think it's a lot more gratifying - and fun - to pair it with the oral stimulation from before. start with the penetration," matty slowly pushes his fingers inside you and thrusts them back and forth, both your jaws dropping at the feeling. "my god, that's good - and then add your mouth back into the equation, like so."

he literally announced it was coming, and still the feeling of matty's lips on your clit as he finger-fucks you has you screaming. if you could keep your eyes from rolling back into your head at the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through your body right now, you'd maybe notice the way matty's concernedly flick up to your face to make sure you're alright - when he confirms your screams are the good kind, his eyes soften, but the black lust within them doesn't disappear. if anything, it gets darker the closer your boyfriend pushes you to the edge, the inaudible analytical murmurs of "you can add another finger for extra stimulation" and "hook them inside to stimulate the g-spot" and god knows what else vibrating through your clit and into your already-fraught nervous system.

it's almost too much for you to handle. your jaw is locked in place, throat muscles tightened to the point where anything but a strangled moan is unable to escape your lips, fingers practically threaded into the sheets themselves as if it's the only thing stopping you from floating away on a cloud of complete ecstasy. ironically, since he's the one making you feel so ecstatic, it's actually matty that's keeping you tethered to this earthly plane - his muscled arms are locked around your convulsing thighs as he sucks and finger-fucks you within an inch of your life. even then, you're still almost dipping in and out of consciousness, of reality, so strong is the buildup of pleasure within you.

you're not sure exactly what it is that finally triggers it, or how long it's taken you to get to that point. but matty does something, and you actually feel something twinge in your cunt as the buildup of pleasure erupts inside you. and that's it.

for the first time in your life, you squirt. you scream matty's name so loudly you almost lose your voice, as you cum so hard that you gush all over your boyfriend's hand and face, a motion you're only vaguely aware of in between split-second long blackouts as your body tries to recover.

matty quickly pulls his fingers from you, a string of excited swear words leaving his mouth as he processes what just happened. he's hovering over you within seconds of your orgasm ending, holding your face in his hands and speaking softly as you come to. "oh, my good girl, my perfect girl, that was absolutely incredible. fuck. how did that feel, darling? how do you feel now? are you alright? talk to me, sweetheart, please."

"felt perfect," you manage to breathe out, smiling dazedly at the gorgeous man above you. "feel so good. thank you."

"i love you," matty kisses you, short and sweet. "that was just… i don't think i'll ever be able to stop thinking about it. i know i say this about something every time i see you naked, but that was the hottest thing i've ever experienced, darling. honestly. i've never been more turned on."

"mmm, love you," you bring a shaky hand up to caress matty's cheek; he turns his head slightly to kiss your palm. "and i want you to feel good now. wanna have sex with you, please."

"are you sure you feel up to it?"

"i am. i do. i want you, baby."

"jesus," matty rests his head on your chest for a second. "alright. but i don't think i have the control to do another lesson roleplay, darling - need to fuck you too much."

you shrug. "i'm a kinesthetic learner anyway. show me what's what!"

matty laughs, quickly yanking off his lab coat and tie. "you're my favourite fucking person on the planet," he kisses your nose while he unbuttons his shirt and throws it to the ground too.

stretching, you sigh happily at the sight of his tattooed torso. "you're just saying that because you made me squirt all over you."

"nah, that's just a bonus," your boyfriend grins, kicking off his trousers. "i mean it, though, you really are my favourite. gonna marry you someday."

a gentle wave of love washes over you. "really?"

"really. but first," matty teases your hole with the head of his dick. "i'm going to fuck you."

he's inside you immediately after the words leave his mouth, sinking into you with a moan you echo in your slightly-broken voice. "shit, babe," matty moans, lips tangy with the taste of your arousal. "you feel too good - there's no way i'm going to last long."

"s'ok, baby," you whimper, legs on your boyfriend's shoulders. "you've made me feel amazing, s'about time you took a turn."

despite his exertion - he really is fucking you determinedly - matty huffs out a laugh. "sweetheart, that doesn't mean we won't be able to get you off again," he smirks, not unkindly, tenderly brushing a stray hair from your face. "if it's not too sensitive, can you be my good girl and rub your clit for me, make yourself feel good?"

oh, fuck. you nod, brain and voice taking a second to catch up to your head and neck. "i can do that."

"show me."

eyes locked on matty's, you bring your hand to your clit, and rub the same slow circles your boyfriend did on you earlier. "like this?"

"yeah, just like that, shit," matty's thrusts quicken; you speed up your circling to match, whining and clenching around him as another orgasm quickly approaches. "fuck, baby, are you gonna cum again for me?"

"yeah."

"do it then, sweetheart," matty pants, bringing his head down to rest in the crook of your neck. your free hand tangles itself in his hair, and he moans into your skin as he speeds up yet again. "whenever you're ready… cum."

still sensitive from your earlier earth-shattering climax, and driven to the edge by the combination of your own hand, matty's hips driving into yours, and his fucking voice, another orgasm crashes through you. it's nowhere near as strong as the first, but it's enough to pull your boyfriend to the edge with you. "darling," he manages to croak out, thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier the better he feels inside. "where can i cum?"

"on my face, please," you pant, chest heaving with aftershocks. "s'only fair, after i came on yours."

the mere mention of your earlier orgasm is enough to tip matty off the edge. groaning the sexiest groans you've ever heard, matty pulls out of your ruined cunt as you sit up closer to him, jerking himself to a finish all over your elated face. it's a bit depraved, but you fucking love it. you fucking love him.

once he's decorated you sufficiently, matty collapses onto your chest, breathing like he's just run a marathon. he's spent, you both are, but he still finds the energy to sit straight up and look at you with a panicked expression. "baby, you had your wings on that whole time?!"

"hmm?" you lazily turn your head to look at your own shoulder. sure enough, the elastic strap of your angel wings is still there; you tentatively lift it, to find the skin underneath red and tender. but still, you giggle. "oh, shit, that's fun! wait, i must still have my halo on, too, then."

"yeah, you do," matty smiles lovingly at you. "it's quite a sight, actually, baby, your halo askew and my cum all over your face."

"well, the wonky halo is thematic, i s'pose," you laugh. "considering what we just did wasn't very angelic."

matty kisses your jaw. "nah, you were a good girl for me. still an angel in my eyes, albeit a slightly slutty angel."

"your slightly slutty angel."

another kiss. "mine, all mine."

#mads muses #mads does writing #into the birthday partyverse #promptober75 #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy smut #matty x reader

[all-things-fic]

By The Fireplace // RM

A/N: First time writing Ross, could be the last time too! It's long (7k), it's smutty and it's a day late (sorry @abiiors). This is part of Promptober '23 and I'm not sure if I've written it right as it's set in November (as you can tell it's going well lads).

***

November 23 2023.

Six hours and forty-seven minutes.

It made sense for him to fly straight into Glasgow. It shaved almost two hours off the red-eye flight in comparison to London and another twelve hours in the car to get you to your destination.

This airport and this place weren’t something foreign to him either, he found himself popping up here more often than not just to get some advice. At times he knew he could pick up the phone, but nothing beat an actual, in-person conversation with his big brother in a normal pub with a cheaply priced pint without any pretence. 

As he walked to the carousel to grab his bag, he slid the second strap of his backpack onto his arm and immediately followed it with pulling up his hood. He was knackered, body achy from the cramped flight and blinking heavy from the lack of sleep.

His glasses-covered eyes silently followed the black tracking as it moved bag after bag past him. Inside his mind, he began to ridicule himself for not just flying with hand luggage. He didn’t need the extra items, only staying here for seventy-two hours before he would be back in America. 

Utah he thinks, or was it Oregon? He made a mental note to figure it out before he left.

Subliminally, he felt himself perk up when he saw his beat up silver luggage push through the black rubber flaps at the start of the carousel. Rather than waiting for it to meet him, Ross went to meet it dragging himself to the other side of the carousel. 

Plucking up the item with ease, his gaze quickly scanned the case. He made sure to spot the battered dragonfly sticker that represented one of his favourite bands, therefore knowing he was picking up the right case. Last thing he needed was to be on the phone to Glasgow Airport sorting out their mistake (or maybe it would be his).

Wheeling the case through the airport was easy, even at this hour. Hood still up, he was able to keep himself to himself as he headed towards border control. 

The queue shuffled along quite nicely, and he couldn’t help but smile as he read your texts that had been sent throughout his flight. The last one saying, “I’m standing beside the massive Christmas tree, it has mistletoe x.”

He was dying to kiss you, mistletoe or not. He didn’t need an excuse. 

Passport scanned and stamped, he softly smiled at the lady on the desk before letting his feet take him to you. His ears perked up at the sound of the accent around him, one that always filled him with the warmest of emotions. It reminded him of the soft lilt his nephew was beginning to pick up.

Walking past W H Smith’s, he weaved around what he perceived to be a couple greeting each other and let his eyes scan over the crowd milling around him.

Christmas tree, Christmas tree, Christmas tree.

He actually spotted you first, regardless of the size of the tree that you were next to. All flannel shirt (which he was sure was his), leather leggings (which he definitely knew were yours) and black boots. Ross gently smiled to himself, taking you in. 

You hadn’t noticed him, too engrossed with turning around to look at the flight board that was placed over your left shoulder and reading whether there was any delay with his flight. Truth was the stupid board wasn’t updating so it wasn’t the latest information and you couldn’t be anymore in the dark if you tried to be.

It was almost like slow motion when you turned back around, this sea of hair moving behind you as you looked through the crowd and found him. You knew your smile was megawatt, as you ran your gaze over his entire being; biting it away when you saw the way he had embraced his miserable, emo self and pulled his black hood up. 

You couldn’t blame him. 

Part of you could already see the heavy tiredness in his body, even though he was at least two yards away from you. Guilt was the heaviest emotion in you, relief was the second. You knew it should be happiness, and god it was there as a close third, but your thoughts were so strongly filled with how much he must love you to do these kinds of things for you.

Flying red eyes. Fucking his body clock up even more to see you for three days. Only to pack his shit up and do it all over again. 

Ross closed the gap between you both easily; long and strong strides making the most of his 6’4 stature. When he was in front of you, your hands found his abdomen with ease. Arms sliding underneath his hoodie, desperate to feel as much of his warmth on you now that he was here.

Your head buried itself into his neck, and his arms immediately anchored you to him; hand sliding up to gently cup at the back of your neck. Staying in silence allowed you to really breathe him in, he even smelt tired if there was a way to describe it.

“Where’s this mistletoe then?” He queried, voice wrecked from his time in the air, his lips at your temple.  

“Any excuse,” you playfully murmured, as you nudged your head back to look up at him. 

“I think you’ll find, you text it to me,” he jested, eyebrows raised as he looked down the bridge of his nose at you. You always loved when he looked at you with such a roguish expression, dimples framing his closed lipped smile. 

People often thought of him as sensible and he was, but the times that you saw his eyes light up in this way were some of the most alive times of your life. 

“Details,” you whispered, as he pulled you up to him with a know-it-all hum and a mumbled “I’ll give you details” leaning down the rest of the way to meet you. 

You’d missed his beard, that was the first musing that came to mind. It’s juxtaposing bristle and softness, always something that distracted you in the best way. 

His lips were of course a close second, especially in that moment as they tenderly plucked at yours in a way that heavenly sighed god, I’m glad to see you. 

This contented hum left you as he pulled away gently, his lips not done as they nipped at your jaw before he buried his face into your neck now. He started to sway the two of you as you hugged, your hands sliding up his back and gripping to the worn band tee that he donned. 

“How was the flight?” you asked, voice slightly strained due to your head being tilted upwards. 

The question hung around in the air for a while, before he lifted himself and pressed his lips in sponging kisses to yours once, twice and three times once more.

“Shit,” he let the word linger at your mouth as you heavily sighed, “but ‘s fine.”

With a deep breath, Ross raised to his full height once more, chest puffed out as he stretched, before asking, “Where’s the keys?”

“I’m driving,” you replied, quickly. He eyed you, right hand rubbing at his chest. You hated driving, especially in Scotland. He knew it, you knew it. The times you’d let out the girliest of screams when picking him and Rob up from Murrayfield were far too embedded into his mind to not tease you religiously about it. 

It was almost like you could hear his thoughts, reminding him of all the moments you’d panicked when on the roads up here. 

“I’m driving, Ross,” you stressed, cutting the thoughts dead. You knew he meant well but there was no way he was going to complete the almost six hour drive that you had on your hands after being sat uncomfortably on a plane for six hours himself and most likely only running off fumes. 

His lips quirked, amused at your tone which was so heavily laced with reprimand. “Alright,” he conceded. “After you, darlin’.” 

***

He had fallen asleep to Dreams by Fleetwood Mac about an hour and thirty minutes into the drive. You had assumed it to be because you had hit the A82 which was such a large stretch of road which you had to drive along for such a long period of time that it had bored him enough to nod off.

As you had slowed in traffic, you took the time to admire him while he slept. His glasses hung at the neck of the tee, never far away so that he would be able to see almost instantly when he woke rather than panic trying to find them. 

His arms were folded across his chest; his neck awkwardly propped up by his bunched up hoodie made into some makeshift pillow and placed between him and the car door. You knew he would regret it later - his body was about to remind him that he was a thirty-four year old man who needed a proper bed to rest in - but regardless you were glad that he had given in to his need to sleep. 

A soft smile lifted at your lips as you took in his slightly rounded chin, you just knew a double chin was hidden by his impressive beard and it filled you with such affection that you wondered if you needed an intervention at this point.

Eyes back on the road, you lifted your hand to turn down the music even further, not wanting anything to disturb him during his slumber, and concentrated on the journey ahead of you. 

“What a dickhead,” you muttered after a while, pressing the break harder than you liked and watching the navy car to your right almost cut you up without a care in the world.

“He had right of way.”

Turning your face to the left, you blinked in silence over at Ross, whose face was far too amused for your likening. He did not just wake up and berate your driving. How long had he been awake? 

“Easy to say when you’ve been asleep for just over four hours,” you commented, pulling off and taking the next left onto a road you didn’t catch the name of. “Must’ve needed the beauty sleep.”

The laugh that he gave you was sudden and hearty. He wasn’t afraid to let you know he was amused by your previous comment which was heavily petulant in its delivery. 

“M’necks fuckin’ killing me,” he broke the silence. 

“Karma.”

He meowed at you then, communicating he was heavily aware of your cattiness towards him. You cut your eyes to him, infuriated by the way his gaze sparkled before he winked at you to try and soften you up. 

Next his right hand moved to brush your hair behind your shoulder. He could feel the tension sitting at the back of your neck and across your shoulders without really touching you. 

“Ross,” you mithered, “I’m trying to drive.”

“Pull in ‘ere, let me do the last bit.” 

“Sweep in and take the glory, true United fan.”

“No,” he spoke, voice level. “I can feel your apprehension, and I want you to relax. Pull in.” 

Sighing, you felt your fingers reach for the indicator before you could stop them, signaling that you were moving to the curb. His belt was off him before you had actually stopped, an annoying beeping sound filling the car to signify someone wasn’t wearing their seatbelt as it was still in operation. 

You undid your seat belt slowly, watching him wait at the front of the car as traffic moved around. When it became clear, he rounded the car to your side, opening your door for you and giving you space to get out. 

“Any CDs in the glove compartment?” He asked when you were stood in front of him. “Driver's choice.”

You rolled your eyes knowing you were about to endure some scream-o band from the early noughties with heavily distorted guitar sounds and tons of drum snare.  

“On you go, Passenger Princess. I’m not changing my mind.”

You squinted your eyes up at him, as he patted twice at your backside. 

Watching him in your car, fixing the seat for his long legs always did things to you. It felt like an age since you had last seen him drive, hands moving smoothly over the steering wheel and placing the gear stick into first to pull off.

The finesse he showed was always far more attractive than it should be and you always remembered so vividly the first time he had taken you on a drive in America in this fancy old car that just wasn’t responsive. 

You had felt on edge the entire time. Ross? He was so calm. So in control. Taking it all in his stride. Not at all bothered about driving on the opposite side of the road than when you were both home. 

It weirdly comforted you. Made you feel safe, secure. Here was a man who was exactly everything you had ever wanted. A little bit geeky, a whole lot manly. Able to act the fool when he felt it, but sweep in and put the pieces back together when needed.

Grateful is what you were.

He must’ve felt it too, because as he pulled out back onto the road and got comfortable, his left hand found its spot atop your thigh. You quickly encased it with both of yours, weaving the fingers of your right hand through his before using your left to gently stroke at the top of his hand, knuckles and forearm. 

“Woah, what’s this wanker doing ‘ere?,” he broke the silence with his high pitched and incredulous tone, followed by “ya could fucking indicate, mate!”. You watched as Ross turned the wheel with his right hand alone and looked through his mirrors, almost asking himself silently if those around him could actually drive.  

“Doesn’t he have right of way?”

“No, he fucking does not.”

The delivery of his response was so deep and astute you bit back your laugh, before lifting his hand to your lips; giving in and chuckling against his skin.

Of course, he didn’t!

(He absolutely did). 

***

The Isle of Skye was renowned for its beauty. A hidden gem of sorts within the Scottish islands. Known for its rugged landscapes, picturesque fishing villages and medieval castles, the largest island in the Inner Hebrides was to be your home for the next seventy-two hours. 

The feeling you got when you drove over to the coast via the bridge that connected it to Scotland’s northwest was like no other. You heard Ross chuckle under his breath at the way you let go of his hand and clambered for your phone so you could film the scenery around you, mountains and hills that were awash of oranges and browns, with the odd bit of greenery clinging on even though you were fully in the throes of autumn. 

Panning your camera across the car, you filmed his profile as he drove with poise along the bridge, barely any cars in front of you giving an open road feel. He looked at you from the corner of his eye when he felt you filming him, this devilish grin lifting at his mouth as you watched him through the camera lift your hand to his lips then placing it against the side of his face.

“Eyes on the road, Romeo,” you replied to his non-verbal action, stroking his cheek with your thumb, before gently turning his head away to look through the windscreen. 

The rest of the drive had been quite a damp one, the heavens opening and rain battering down onto your car. With about fifteen minutes to go, you wrapped yourself up in Ross’ hoodie, glancing over at him to see him sat further forward in his seat as he wiped at the inside of the window which was misting up.

You fiddle around with the blowers to help him, blasting them up to the highest they would go and seeing the way the hot heat helped clear the windscreen slightly. 

The sat nav told him to take the next right, the car dropping down to 15mph due to the narrow streets that he was driving around and then it was the next left to take you to the cottage that was nestled in the village of Elgol. 

The beauty of Elgol was something the two of you had discovered and became captivated by over his short and sweet summer break after attending a wedding of his brother's friend. 

During those four days, you had spent time exploring the breathtaking coastline and ventured on scenic walks through the landscapes that were so often talked about when it came to Skye. 

When you had last been there, you had been able to experience the perfect balance of seclusion and adventure, which was exactly what you and he had been after for the longest time.

“We’re going to be rained off,” he mumbled, a little agitated as he pulled the car to halt outside your cottage for the next three days. 

“You say that as if there isn’t plenty for us to do inside.”

It was meant to be suggestive and you appreciated that he had picked up on it immediately, this smug smile plucking at his lips; the kind that was absolutely driven by a dirty thought or two. 

“I know how much you love a game of chess, babe.”

He glanced over at you unamused, as you laughed in such a dirty way, you were almost shocked a sound like that could leave you.

“Just love it, me.” 

His deadpan was second to none. It was definitely one of your favourite things about him: made the list of the top five favourite things ever. 

“Getting really good at it.”

“And who’s told you that?” He dropped his head back against the headrest and rolled his face to the side to look at you. He was currently on a losing streak, truth be told. 

“Hey, Waughy and I talk. Usually when I’m waiting for you to reply to my text but you’re too hungover to pick your head up off the pillow.”

“Oh, I see how it is, fraternising with the enemy. Giving him all my tricks.”

You rolled your lips into your mouth, breathing deeply through your nose. “Not all of them.”

Those words were weighty. 

There were some things John didn’t need to know about his friends. Things that were for only you and Ross. 

A silence fell over you both, filling the car. You kept your eyes on each other, Ross’ occasionally falling over your features and dropping to your lips. He’d stare at them for a while, before they’d lift and he’d start the process all over again. 

He did this a lot when he was away, sometimes in person like now after he had dared to take the flight, or other times through the phone when FaceTiming from California, or New York, or Perth. It was like he needed to memorise you in some way, just in case you changed by the time he got home.

You took him in too, his usual hair less sleek as flyaways made their presence known thanks to the damp moisture in the air. His skin wasn’t as perky as usual, a little sallow in colour but regardless he was still the most handsome man you knew. 

Under his loving gaze, you shivered. It was probably more from the cold than anything, but that didn’t stop the light blush invading.

“Best get you inside and warm,” he spoke. “Gonna have to make a run for it.”

You giggled to yourself as you opened your door, breath catching in your throat when the cold splashes of rain hit you. You turned briefly to see Ross using his long stride to his advantage, jogging to the blue front door of your cottage and moving from side to side to keep himself from going numb as the November cold whipped around him.

Car door slammed behind you, you held your bag in your hand and ran to stand next to him, both trying to cram yourself into the alcove under the thatched room.

Your hands shook as you fiddled with the keys. Trying your best to align it with the lock. He watched from the side of you as you shivered on the front door step, all-natural radiance and slightly sodden, swaying from side to side as you tried to keep warm. 

“Come ‘ere,” his deep voice chuckled, unable to watch you struggle any longer, gently taking the keys from you and pushing them into the lock. “How are you so fuckin’ freezing and you’ve even nicked my jumper?”

You didn’t answer him, instead opting to push the door open the minute he’d unlocked it and prayed that the owners had left some kindle for the open fire so that Ross would be able to sort it immediately.

***

One warm shower later, you stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the lounge, eyes moving over the scene in front of you. Hair thrown up in a messy bun atop your head, the tartan pyjamas you had purposely packed were loose against your frame.

Ross has disappeared into the bathroom about thirty minutes ago now to wash away the travel, his rendition of And She Was muffled but still present over the sound of the shower.

You’d spent that time going through the welcome pack that was filled with freshly baked bread courtesy of the owners, a burgundy white wine which boasted buttery tastes of peaches and citrus zest, and of course a bag of coffee that sounded completely to Ross’ fancy. 

With the bottle uncorked, you poured yourself a glass, quickly placing it into the fridge to keep it chilled. Regardless of it edging closer to winter by the day, there was nothing worse than room temperature wine.

Shoulder pressed to the door jamb, you sipped at the alcohol and rested the cool glass against your lips. 

The Nest as it was known, was definitely romantic. All thatched roof and spectacular panoramic views which overlooked Knock Castle and across the Sound of Sleat to the Knoydsrt mountains. 

Inside it was all vintage French fabrics and fine linen. With its sheepskin rugs and real wood fire stove, the cottage was described as the “perfect getaway for couples looking to explore and return to comfort after a day walking in the hills and mountains”.

While your exploring had only consisted of you carrying your items from the car and into the cottage, you were definitely ready to get cosy next to the fire and relax in the lived-in space.

“Forgot my clothes,” he spoke in a hushed tone not wanting to break the serene silence when he spotted you across the room. His voice slowly tapered off as he took in the particular tartan pattern that you were donning, recognising it to be that of his own family name. 

The smirk that lifted at his lips, and the flare of his nostrils as he inhaled deeply let you know he had caught on. As tribal as it was, you didn’t mind the way his eyes ravaged you. 

Your eyes ran over him without shame in return, his hair wet and sitting against his shoulders, lines of water dripping down his hairy chest and over the tops of his broad shoulders. The delicate chain that he always wore was decorative against his neck. 

His right hand held a white towel securely at his hips, clenching at the fabric as he glistened and walked closer to you. 

“Any of that going spare?” He nudged his head towards the wine, causing you to peel your eyes away from him and down to your own glass. When you looked back at him, he was so close to you you had to tilt your head back slightly. 

“Depends,” you started, watching his eyebrow quirk up at you with intrigue. “Are you planning on sitting around in that towel, or covering yourself up?”

The crackle of the fire cut through the room and your question.

“How’d you want me?”

***

Ross opted for clothes, which meant he had to pour his own glass of wine when he came back from getting dressed. Rather than giving him a verbalised answer earlier, you’d flirtatiously tugged at his right wrist trying to get him to drop the towel. 

“Towel stays on babe,” he had whispered against your lips, wet hair moving to almost curtain around you. “This cold won’t do anything for my ego.”

You rolled your eyes at him bringing up “winter penis”, which if you recalled correctly had been a topic of conversation a few nights ago when he had called you from Toronto. A conversation that had started with the guys, and one he thought fitting to continue with you. 

It wasn’t, but you’d rolled with it. Mainly because at the time of the call you could hear the stage whisky fuelled slur and wanted to humour him. 

You had fawned over him in that moment, openly discussing the size of his dick and before you knew it you were engaged in particularly erotic dirty talk while you sat and ate your Weetabix. Time zones were fucking bizarre, but you did what you had to to survive tour. That’s just how it was. 

“You know the other morning when you phoned me and started talking about your dick,” he hummed, wanting you to continue. “I was eating breakfast-“

“Was it any good for you?”

“The Weetabix? Ten out of ten.”

He laughed, his head falling back against the cushions as he sat on the floor with his back resting against the bottom of the sofa. 

“Cheers,” he bit back in good humour, looking at you upside down. 

You let your fingers run gently across his brow, thumb stroking at his forehead as you softly smiled. “You know how I feel about your dick,” you whispered.

“Do I?”

You hummed your response of “yes”, voice light and airy.

“Why are we whispering?” He asked. You shrugged. “They deliver cocktails to this cottage, did ya know that?”

You hummed again, watching him flip through the menu he was holding. His fingers tapping at one of the cocktail names, “Reckon I’d like this one.”

Leaning down and looking over his shoulder you read the title. 

Highland Fling. How predictable.

You chose to stay silent as you read the few lines explaining it underneath its bolded title. 

The Highland Fling cocktail is a bold, robust and a slightly sweet drink with a flavour of citrus. The smoky and rich flavours of the Scotch whisky are balanced by the sweetness of Drambuie and tart lemon juice. Mixed together they create a complex and satisfying taste experience. 

The cocktail is a popular choice among whisky enthusiasts and those who appreciate the rich history of Scottish culture. 

“Technically we’re not in the Highlands,” you paused, glancing over at him and seeing his rich eyes were already on you. “For someone who likes to think they’re Scottish, you’ve fucked it there.”

He raised his eyebrows. Touché.

“Spoilsport.”

You leant forward to soothe him with a peck to the lips, whispering against his mouth, “Get four of ‘em.”

***

Before you knew it you were both a few cocktails deep, glasses lined up either side of you on the floor where you sat. 

As he looked over at you, he knew you were at the very least buzzed by the soft flush that littered your cheekbones. He had zoned out at whatever it was you were talking about, too engrossed by the way you shone as you talked to him. 

He knew he was fucked, in more ways than one. Hopefully literally, at least later on, but that thought could wait for another hour or two. Loving someone and being in love were different things, and in that moment he knew he was in love with you. He knew a lot of things actually; like he knew he needed to ask you to marry him before the tour was out. 

He didn’t know how, he didn’t know when but he knew he had to make it happen. 

Maybe he could find some time in the new year, whisk you away somewhere warm to fight away the January blues. At least that’s what he would tell you. 

With your feet in his lap, you leant back on your right hand as you sat on the floor, left holding your fifth cocktail to your lips. It was something pink and fruity - watermelon or strawberry based, he couldn’t quite remember - but the way it was staining your lips was all too satisfying.

“I actually think he has a soft spot for me now,” you spoke softly, humming and closing your eyes as you felt his hands move to massage your feet. 

“Who?”

You spoke the name of his eldest nephew, seeing the way his eyes smiled at the mention of his brother’s son, when yours fluttered open and looked back at him. 

“He’s always liked you,” he reassured, hand rubbing gently along your calf. He liked you talking about his family so breezily, even if you were showing a need to be liked by his three year old nephew in this scenario. 

You shook your head, biting down at your lip. “No one compares to Uncle Ross.”

“Uncle Ross, is really fucking cool that’s why.”

He widened his eyes to emphasise what he was saying, wondering how he wasn’t cringing at describing himself as cool. 

“Pretty fit too.”

He looked at you over the rim of his glass as he stalled his movement to drink; holding your eyes with his he let his lips encase the rim of the glass. They were dark and smouldering, never leaving your face. There was no chance he didn't know what he was doing; he didn’t need to verbalise how much he wanted you at that moment. 

“How fit we talking?”

You breathed deeply, a blissful sigh leaving you on exertion. “So fit.”

He laughed down his nose, the additional sip of his cocktail he had taken now swallowed. 

“Really eloquent.”

“I know,” you played along, voice breathy. “The most eloquent, but tell me I’m wrong.”

In goading fashion you pressed your foot gently into his stomach, feeling his hand clasp around the top from your action.

“Behave.”

“Make me.”

Ross pulled at your leg then, hand curling under your knee, needing you closer. Your joyful squeal turned into a throaty laugh as you threw your head back and somehow found yourself in his lap. 

He was back against the sofa then, hands sliding up the back of your pyjamas and gripping gently to the nape of your neck. He guided your face down and towards him. His mouth smiled against yours, the two of you too happy to engage in a proper kiss.

Giving up, he slid his lips across your cheek and underneath your chin as you tilted your head back and breathed his name. He gently nipped at your throat, tongue licking and tasting your skin which was slightly salty due to the heat within the room from the roaring fire.

Your fingers were woven into the hair at the nape of his neck, pushing upwards underneath where his hair tie sat, to try and loosen his bun. His hair was still damp from where it had been tied up after his shower hours earlier, and the cool strands felt delightful to your fingertips.

“I fucking love you in this,” he confessed, face buried in your chest as he finally acknowledged you wearing his family tartan. His right hand had a strong hold on your back, hand splayed between your shoulder blades as you leaned back.

His left was fumbling with the buttons of your pyjama top, desperate to rid you of the clothing item. Your mind was telling you to help, but you were too engrossed by the feeling of his lips suckling at your sternum. 

“Babe,” you gasped, when you felt him nudge the fabric away with his nose, mouth wet along the top of your boob before he enclosed his lips around your exposed nipple. A satisfied moan left you, as you stroked down the back of his neck and lightly grazed your nails over his skin. 

His fingers were firm, deftly plucking at the remaining buttons of your top like the strings of a bass as he grew confident. Top now sat open, his hands were quick to encourage you to move yours from around his neck, so he could slide the sleeves off. 

Ross was so immersed in you, the smell of your skin and the way your breath got caught in your throat as he lapped at your nipple.

“Your tits are incredible.”

The comment was boyish and almost lost against your skin. It made you smile, teeth biting down at your bottom lip as he switched boobs.

“I missed you too,” you replied, humour lacing your words. 

From your response you felt him lightly trace his nose against your breastbone, he tilted his face back to look up at you, his chin resting at your chest. Your hands moved to gently cup at his face, Ross turning slightly to press his lips to the inside of your palm.

His eyes were imploring as they looked up at you, silently watching you slide your top off completely and aimlessly throw it away before welcoming you back to him by sliding his hands up your bare back and applying a small amount of pressure to your shoulder blades to pull you down to him.

He had missed you. He didn’t need to voice it literally at that moment. It was in his gaze, his touch, the way his fingers dug into your skin as he held you. 

You cupped his cheeks, the sound of both your inhales mixing just before your lips met and his face became blurred to you. He started off delicately, almost allowing you to process the feeling of his beard beneath your right hand, and his lips against yours. It wasn’t long until a fervent, urgent need overtook, building from this graduation of intensity that had you clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in your ever-changing world. 

Ross’ mouth was insistent as he parted your lips and it evoked a sensuality within you that you had missed the minute he had parted from you all those months prior. His tongue slipped inside your mouth, gentle but demanding, causing a swimming giddiness to overflow your being. 

You smiled at the smacking sound of your lips audible, like two teenagers necking on. Faltering lips and a low and muffled moan omitting against your mouth from him as you curled your fingers in his hair and lightly pulled. 

Fighting a losing battle, Ross’ lips moved messily down your chin and to your neck. He paused momentarily, holding you against his body before moving to lay you back against the sheepskin rug. It felt sleek and inviting against your skin and you looked down your body at him waiting on his next move.

“Thought about you fucking me on this carpet when I booked this place,” you softly voiced like it was some lewd confession and not one you were sharing with your long term boyfriend. 

This wicked glint flickered across his gaze and the smuggest grin you had sworn he had ever worn lifted at his lips; slowly he sat back on his haunches and started to unbutton his top. His eyes were everywhere; at your bare chest, on the sea of hair that haloed above you. 

“Did ya?” 

Looking down at him, you nodded happily wearing your soft blush and lifted your hand to try and reach for the bottom of his shirt to help him remove it quicker. 

“Lured me here under the pretense of wanting a nice little getaway,” he teased. “Really just wanted to have your way with me.”

His eyes took in the way you looked at him, all doe-eyed and biting gently down on your bottom lip. You weren’t going to deny it; why would you? 

You instead reached for his hand. The heat and wetness between your legs felt all too inviting, desperate for his touch. He palmed you over the top of your underwear so easily, dexterous digits swiping at your clit in the right way. 

“Don’t start without me,” he paused, as your eyes started to close from the feel of his fingers. His lips pressed to your warm cheek when he continued, “Let me go get some condoms.”

As he rose to his feet, he quickly stripped his lower half leaving him naked, unphased and all bare bottom as he walked away. It wasn’t lost on you the use of the plural. 

Starting without him was exactly what you needed, fingers caving and picking up where he left off: gently rubbing at yourself and spreading your wetness over your clit. 

“Hands,” his chided when back in the lounge, hearing a soft whine escape you and seeing your hands move to easily rid you of your pyjama trousers. When you returned to your place on the floor, you watched the strip of condoms bounce to the carpet next to you, from his relaxed throw. 

“Someone’s confident,” you casually commented, gazing up at him through hooded eyes and taking in the open wrapper that was placed between his teeth. He smirked around it, head dropped and looking down at his hands as they adeptly rolled the latex over his erection. 

Joining you back on the floor, Ross leant over and pressed a kiss to the inside of your left knee, his eyes finding yours from under his brow. He mumbled, “Some would say prepared…”

He stalled his words, lips now at your right knee. “…. Safe.”

“Sexy.”

“How’d you want me?” He queried in return, feeling your hands pulling at him. 

“You decide. Just want you.”

He moved so effortlessly between your legs, them pliant in his hands and accommodating. His weight above you was always welcomed, comfortingly looming and imperturbably virile. 

“Put me in,” he spoke, voice low and caught in his throat as slipped his tip between your folds. You whined around your bitten lips, reaching up to pull him down closer from where he was hovering over you. 

His lips were heavy on yours once more, all tongue  and hungry. He groaned against your mouth as you stroked him over the condom that he wore, hands sliding down your waist and angling your hips. 

“S’yours, you know.”

You slowly smiled at his slurred and barely audible words, mouth dropping open and head falling further into the carpet as he slid into you with no resistance, bottoming out in one long, smooth stroke and the manliest “fuck me”. 

Humming deeply, Ross bit around his smile as he started with shallow, teasing thrusts. A series of strokes that you found frustratingly sexy but knew as ones he wouldn’t be able to keep up due to his own insatiable desires. 

“More,” you craved to feel the power you knew he held. 

He listened, thrusts more measured - slow, hard and deep - knowing what you wanted and needed. Undulating and determined. 

He jutted his hips forward, knocking your body with more force as you lay relaxed below him, arms above your head and boobs bouncing with each swift jolt of his thrusts as he fucked into you.

“Yes, fuck me,” you breathily moaned, head pushed back further into the floor beneath you, hands moving to the rug upon which your lay, fingers grasping at the soft material. 

To think that all those hours earlier, you thought that neither of you were going to get warm. Now you almost choked around the thick air that consumed you within the room and from the roaring fire. 

Ross’ thrusts kept their measured in pace, more forceful than before and you couldn’t help the blissful sighs and heavenly cries that left you lips as he devoured your sweaty skin, licking and sucking at the curve between where your shoulder and neck met. 

The feeling of his touch let you know how sure of himself he was. You couldn’t disagree as your body welcomed him, receptive and pliant and willing. 

He frowned along with you when he felt you begin to go taught. When you breathily gasped his name, he scooped you into him and held you against him.

Your orgasm had crept up on you, causing you to cup the back of his neck and bring his face back to yours. He was muttering words of approval into your skin, something that you couldn’t decipher that had you opening your legs wider for him. 

He knew you liked it when you couldn’t quite figure out what filthy things he was saying to try and get you there. It summed up the mystique that peppered throughout your relationship. 

As you shook, he sloppily fucked you through your release, hand tilting your hips up as you become slack.

“God, I love you,” you desperately gasped when you came to, face flushed and feeling clammy from the mixture of the heat from the naked flame to your right and pure exertion.

“‘Think you love fuckin’ me,” he roughly spoke, his right hand seeking yours and lacing your fingers together against the rug. You looked at him with desperate eyes, a shake of your head to his words. “No?” He sniggered down his nose, his own skin taking on a pink flush.

His other hand wound underneath your lower back, as you arched slightly, liking the way he wanted to drag it out; to roll his heavy hips into yours this entire time and making it so your clit rubbed against his pelvic bone on every thrust. 

He watched your eyes roll back and your chin lifted upwards, him finding your spot once more causing you to clench around him. Ross groaned your name, begging you to look at him. Your hazy eyes found his shortly after he aired his request, hips snapping forward when you silently begged him with fucked out eyes to fill you up.

“Fuck, ‘m comin’.”

The sound of his voice was watery; choked as he groaned causing you to blissfully sigh when you felt him drop down to you, your arms enveloping his body and holding it to yours.

You ran your fingertips lightly down his back, listening to his breathing even itself out, you pressed a fluttering kiss to his temple and purred, “Welcome home, baby.”

#promptober75 #promptober #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonal fanfic #ross x reader #ross x you #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald smut #fluff writing #smut writing

[the1975attheirverybest]

A/N: sorry about the delay. Todays been hectic. This is day one of promptober

Prompt: meet cute

Warnings: none

——

“Jesus- fuck!! Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Matty hissed, reflexively pulling his hand away, and dropping the remainder of the half empty coffee cup that had not spilled all over him in a splat against the pavement. He leaned against the car, his coffee-soaked gym clothes adhering to his skin.

“Good morning- umm, you need some help?”

He heard a bright voice from behind him and instantly make an effort to put on a smile before turning around. He’d assumed the young lady with the hefty-looking tote bag hanging off her shoulder was a fan. Probably coming over to ask for a quick selfie or an autograph before she’d caught him cursing under his breath. He never wanted his mood or mental state to ever taint a fans experience of him or rub off on anyone else. So, with open arms and deep breaths, he approached her, ready to put aside his troubles and be present in the moment.

“No, I’m just English, and…it’s October. Los Angeles weather makes no sense to me, and-“ when she looked puzzled, stepping away as he got closer, Matty realized she had no idea who he was. “Oh, god. Sorry. I’m a fuckin idiot, aren’t I?”

“I…don’t know you well enough to answer that.” She laughed. “But it does seem like you’re having a morning.”

“It’s just that I’ve rented this car. And it won’t turn on. And I went to pull out my phone, you know, to call the agency but- the coffee shop over there was out of lids, and-“ he gestured vaguely in the air.

She nodded along sympathetically. “Sounds awful; I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“Well, I’ve got…hmm” she glance down at her phone, “fifty minutes. Okay that’s not bad. Let me help you out.”

“You don’t have to. It’s fine I’ll call someone and-“

“I’ve got somewhere you can get cleaned up and I know a guy who’s good with cars. C’mon.” She began walking up the street, taking for granted that Matty would follow her. So, he did.

***

“Let me- umm- help” Matty attempted to hold her tote bag for her as she wrangled her key into the door, but he was too late. She’d pried it open and walked inside.

“Welcome to my humble business.” She announced, feeling around the wall for the light switch. “We don’t behind open for another 45 minutes so please shut the door behind you.”

Matty made sure the “closed” sign was facing outwards before pushing the door shut.

“Alright, let’s see the damage that we’re working with here.” Her eyebrows raised, her head nodding towards his t shirt.

He pulled it over his head, slowly revealing his toned, tattooed torso. She couldn’t help but let her eyes linger for a moment, blushing involuntarily. He was beautiful.

“Thank you for this.” He muttered awkwardly.

“You bet.”

***

She’d finally emerged from the kitchen area of her bakery, smiling as she watched Matty pace around the room nervously. “You can sit down, you know.” She pointed towards one of the serving tables that still hand the chairs hanging upside-down from. “So, I have your t shirt soaking for a bit. I’ll dry it near the oven when it’s ready. But here you go. This is the car guy.”

“Thank you, really. You didn’t have to do all this.” Matty lowered a chair off the table, sinking into it and dialing the number she’d given him.

“Can I get you anything while you wait?”

Matty smiled, genuinely, for the first time this morning. “I could use some coffee actually. You know, one that isn’t being absorbed through the skin of my chest.”

She giggled. “How do you take your coffee? We’ve got fall flavors if you’d like a pumpkin spice.”

Matty rolled his eyes.

“Oh are you one of those men? You think pumpkin spice is girlie or gay or something? Lemme guess….you take your coffee black? Alright, grinch. One black coffee coming right up.”

By the time that she’d brought out his beverage, Matty had finished making his phone call.

“Here you go, sir.”

“Thank you- the grinch is for Christmas by the way. This is autumn.”

She giggled. “Whatever you say, grinch.”

“I never said I hate pumpkin spice.” Matty was on the defensive now. “I love it! It’s just- LA feels like summer. This…is not pumpkin spice weather. Feels wrong.”

“Okay so, you’re English. You hate LA. You…do jiujitsu- your stained shirt? It had the name of a martial arts academy printed on it - what else? You’re not actor are you?”

Matty sipped on his coffee. “Not an actor, no.”

“Thought so. You don’t look like one.”

Matty’s brows furrowed, he set down his coffee mug, resting his elbows on the table as he leaned in. “What’s that supposed to mean? Should I be offended?”

She chuckled, throwing her head back. “No. Trust me. You don’t wanna look like an actor in LA. They’re all over the place.”

“And you? Pumpkin spice is your full time job?” Matty winced at his own words. “Sorry that came out wrong. I’m a nice person, i promise. It’s the heat!”

She shook her head, smiling. “I’m really passionate about pumpkin spice.” She glanced down at her phone, then at the block-long line forming outside.

“Fuck! Oh shoot, shoot, shoot!!!” She jumped to her feet, rushing into the kitchen. “Unlock that door and let people in, would you?”

***

A shirtless Matty had found himself the host of LA’s finest caffeine- deprived bakery customers, eventually settling into his role by finding an apron to cover his nipples with, and working the cash register.

“Thank you for coming, enjoy that muffin, Pamela.” He smiled as the ancient lady with the cane eyed him from head to toes, winking at his biceps. “Watch your step now. Don’t want you falling. You’ve had enough knee surgeries for your age.”

He walked away from the counter once the first morning rush had died down, going into the kitchen. “I don’t think the scones are selling too well. Should I- I think we could start giving some away. With a purchase of large sized beverages.”

She stared at him, her mouth agape. It was difficult to focus on being dumbfounded by him when all she could think about is how beautiful his hair was, and how tightly that apron wrapped around him.

“I’m Matty, by the way.” He stuck his hand out for a handshake.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t think we’ve been properly introduced- like, officially.”

***

“Here you go. T shirt is now coffee free. And wearable again.”

“Sick!”

To her great disappointment, he undid the apron, pulling it off his body and replacing it with his original t shirt.

“Thanks for helping out. I feel bad though. Cuz, like, you could’ve been out there. Dealing with your car situation.”

“Oh, my car was fixed hours ago.”

#promptober75 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fluff #matty healy fic #matty healy writing #matty healy one shot #matty healy oneshot #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy x y/n

[abiiors]

autumn mornings 🍂 // matty healy x reader

promptober '23 - day 7

a/n: @kscheibles suggested i should try somno so here it is 🤭 cw: smut, somno (consensual is implied), handjobs lol, thigh riding if you squint wc: 900

all you know is the chirping of birds and the warmth of matty’s body as you snuggle into his chest. you have absolutely no intention of leaving his side or this duvet before at least 10 in the morning, later even, if he decides to bring you breakfast in bed. but for now, all you can focus on is the even rise and fall of his chest, his messy curls that lightly tickle your face and…

matty squirms against you just as you’re counting your blessings, mumbling something in his sleep. at first you’re annoyed at him for disturbing your peace, about to tell him to be still, until you listen closely to what he’s saying. 

“fuck, darling…” he mumbles, practically moaning your name right after. it’s so soft that you absolutely would have missed it had you not listened to him closely. 

“mmm, please,” he continues, still squirming in his sleep. well, not squirming per se. you now recognise that what he’s doing is subtly thrusting his hips. 

amusement washes over you a moment after the realisation hits. he’s having a wet dream. about you. you know what you’ll find if you trail your fingers down his chest and over his joggers. and you also know how he’s woken you up multiple times with his mouth between your legs. and now you get to return the favour, with the added bonus of—literally—making his dreams come true. 

you find the drawstrings of his joggers, loosening them quickly as his hips jerk under your touch. in his sleep, matty lets out a moan the second your hand slides inside the waistband of his underwear to find him already hard and dripping with precum. 

“please…” he whispers again, breathing sharply as your hand wraps around his base. 

in your hands matty is so reactive, bucking his hips before you’ve even stroked him properly, or spread his precum around his length. his eyes flutter, he’s almost awake but you shush him quickly.

“go back to sleep, baby,” you breath near his ears, pressing featherlight kisses on his jaw as he hums happily. “you’re still dreaming. dreaming about me.”

“dreaming…” he mumbles and groans lightly when your thumb grazes his slit. even when he’s half asleep, matty somehow manages to be the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen—gasping just the right way, that has you rubbing your thighs together in anticipation. 

you pepper a few more kisses on his jaw, tangling your legs with his, all while your hand moves up and down his length under the duvet, occasionally squeezing his balls that has him sucking in sharp breaths through his teeth. 

matty moans your name, eyelids fluttering. 

“fucking hell!” his breaths come in faster, back arching off the bed the faster you stroke him. he sounds so filthy and hot that can’t help but grind lightly on his thigh, enjoying the way the material of his joggers feels against all your senstative areas. the friction makes you moan, makes you jerk him off faster.

your body burns with the need to feel him buried deep inside you, to feel his hips knocking into yours at a bruising pace, and to hear all the praise that falls so carelessly off his lips. a whimper escapes you as you grind faster on his thigh and stroke him harder. 

he’s already twitching in your hands, so hot and heavy and almost awake now judging by the way his moans and curses sound clearer but matty still hasn’t fully opened his eyes. they’re still half-lidded, hooded with lust and practically rolling to the back of his head as pleasure courses through his entire body. 

“matty,” you moan in his ear, running your thumb over his sensitive slit, “need you to cum for me, baby. cum all over my hand. and then i need you to eat me out till i see stars okay?”

he nods fervently, legs spasming till that one vein on his underside pulsates before you feel warm cum gushing down your hand. it’s sticky and hot and filthy—exactly how you like it, exactly how you want him to feel every single time. 

matty cums so hard, he wakes himself up, blinking at the bright light and whimpering slightly when your fingers brush against his now oversensative tip. 

he’s breathing hard when he turns to look at you, eyes wide and no longer soft and sleepy. instead he looks properly fucked out. 

“oh my god…” is all he can say while you bring your cum covered hand in front of you, sticking the fingers in your mouth and swirling your tongue around them, moaning around them until matty has you flipped on your back and pinned under him. 

“you were having a nice dream,” you tease while he catches his breath, “so i thought i’d make it come true.”

“i was having a very nice dream,” he smirks, lowering to capture your mouth a searing kiss that leaves you wanting for so much than moments before. the ache between your legs feels desperate and urgent and he knows it. knows exactly what makes your body tick. 

“don’t think i didn’t hear what you said.”

“oh, i'm counting on it,” your voice comes out breathy as his hand drifts between your legs. 

his dark eyes stare into yours, full of lust and mischief and a promise of what’s to come. “now how about i make your dreams come true?”

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy@sierraeslaprincesa@harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet@thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies@sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied

add yourself to the taglist

#i'm not really here. this is queued :) #promptober75 #the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty x reader #matty x you #the 1975 fic #matty healy smut #smut writing #minors do not interact #the 1975 smut #ross macdonald #george daniel #adam hann

[everythingdenied]

promptober-13

leaves fallen sparse-dad!matty

a/n: lil blurb inspired by the fact that matty has been looking painfully dilfy atm...and also bc i am hormonal & freezing and feel like i haven't posted anything in agesssss. also promptober YAY!! tysm @abiiors u have reminded me i don't hate writing.

wc: 620

"Fuck me, i'm freezing my tits off. Can we not just...go home?"

I turned my head, walking a few paces ahead of Matty to try and keep up with the very enthusiastic toddler wobbling along the cobblestone in front of me. Amelie had only learnt to walk less than a month ago but, from the minute she'd figured out how, she'd been eager to use those little legs of hers, putting both me and her dad on pins whenever she decided to toddle anywhere near the edge of the coffee table at home.

"Matty..." I scolded, glaring at the man as he grumpily shoved his hand's into the pockets of his trench coat, kicking at a pile of dried, amber leaves at his feet. "You were literally the one who suggested this."

He rolled his eyes and puffed out a dramatic sigh, jogging the few steps forward to catch up with Amelie and I.

"Yeah. Didn't think it'd be this cold" he grumbled. "I feel like Scott of the fuckin' antarctic."

Matty dug his hands deeper into his pockets, pouting when he found no relief from the crips autumn air, nor any sympathy for me, who only breathed a quiet laugh at his melodrama and pulled him into my side. His teeth chattered, clicking against each other exaggeratedly, and he nuzzled into the crook of my neck, whimpering like a small child.

"You are such a man child sometimes, jesus christ" i giggled, but gave in to his fawning, placating him with a soft kiss to the tip of his rosy nose, only pulling back when I felt something bump against my leg.

Looking down, I noticed our nearly two year old had stopped dead in the middle of the pavement, crouched down to inspect something she'd found between the cobbles.

"Careful, baby..." I hummed, the momentary concern I felt dissipating when I squatted down beside her to take a proper look at what had captured her attention so desperately she'd felt the need to stop walking. "What've you got, Am?"

Clutched in my little one's hand was a leaf; a perfectly shaped, dried out, copper leaf, reminiscent of the one's you'd see on some slightly kitsch advert for a pumpkin spice latte. It wasn't anything particularly magnificent, it was just a leaf, the same you could find sparsely peppering every street in England after the month of October, and yet Amelie stared at it in awe, her mouth agape as if she'd just discovered a new planet.

"Leaf!" she giggled happily and held it out for me to take. Her eyes flit between Matty and I, presumably waiting for the two of us to catch up on the joy this leaf was supposedly meant to bring us, and she prompted me once more to take it from her.

"Well done, baby" I smiled and gingerly took the singular piece of foliage from her, careful not to crinkle it as she grinned toothlessly. "S'pretty, huh?"

Amelie nodded vigorously, her little mustard bobble hat threatening to tip off her hid, and pointed once more.

"Pretty leaf..." she babbled thoughtfully, gazing up at Matty as I settled her woollen hat back in its rightful position, sitting perfectly atop her mop of dark ringlets she could have only inherited from one place. "Daddy, look! Pretty leaf."

Matty laughed warmly, his heart swelling tenfold, and crouched down to pick Amelie up in his arms, hugging her little frame to his chest as her elated squeal bounced through the empty estate.

"Mhm...'s a very pretty leaf" he nodded, and reached out to grasp her tiny hand in his own, his lips brushing over her knuckles as she wriggled in his arms. "But not nearly as pretty as you, my littlest darlin..."

#matty healy x reader #matty healy #promptober75 #the 1975

[wrestletotheground]

~ promptober day 3 ~

scary movies - ross macdonald fluff

no cws just cute boyfriend ross

the buzz of the doorbell rang through the house, waking me up from my nap. I tapped on my phone to check the time. 7pm. 'shit', I muttered, jumping out of bed and hurrying down the stairs to answer. I swung the door open to see ross standing there with a huge smile on his face. he looked so adorable in his black hoodie and grey tracksuit bottoms, hair tied back into a clean ponytail, the leaves and trees of the garden framing him in red, brown and orange.

'hi baby', I said, diving straight into his open arms, letting him envelop me in him. I breathed in his scent, warm and comforting in the chill of the october air. 'i missed you darling', he said, pulling away slightly to look down into my eyes. 'I missed you too, the 9 hours you've been gone felt like too long', I replied truthfully. we'd been living together for 3 months and it still felt surreal, waking up beside the love of my life every day and spending more time with him than ever on days we had off from work (and in his case, touring).

it was then I noticed the shopping bag on the ground by his side. he saw me looking, and without me having to ask, said 'I thought we could have a little movie night to kick off the start of spooky season. I went to tesco on the way home and got all of our favourite snacks'.

my heart melted at the gesture. after the long week I'd had this was just what I needed. 'ross,' i cooed, pouting my bottom lip. 'what did i do to deserve you?' I asked, resting my chin on his chest. he smile at me before leaning down to kiss me gently. 'go in and pick a film love, ill get food sorted'.

~

10 minutes later he reappeared from the kitchen balancing a bowl of buttered popcorn, 2 cans of cherry coke, a bag of chilli heatwave doritos under his arm, sour cream dip and a bag of m&ms between his teeth. 'jesus, someone took advantage of their clubcard', I laughed, getting up to help him put everything down. 'I got it, I got it', he said around the m&m packet, squatting down to the coffee table. he flicked off the big light, leaving just the warm glow of the lamp in the corner and the tv screen. he then produced a lighter from his pocket and bent down to light the scented candle across from us.

once everything was set up he sat down beside me on the couch. the atmosphere was so cosy and cute, it truly felt like halloween season now.

I returned my gaze to the tv, flicking through the endless films under "halloween" on netflix. 'have you still not decided?' he asked. 'listen. there's a lot of options', I started, looking over to see him looking at me incredulously. 'fifteen minutes I was gone for, unbelievable', he replied, shaking his head. 'ten', I mumbled, pushing his arm playfully, still swiping through the catalogue of spooky films.

'what about one of them tim burton ones you have on dvd?' I snapped my head around, gasping theatrically. 'ross. you're a genius' I replied. I practically ran over to turn on the dvd player. I picked up the corpse bride, my favourite, and showed it to him. 'perfect, whatever you want darling', he said, grinning.

I put it on and sat back beside him. he put his arm around me and I lay into him contently as the opening credits played. I pulled the blanket down from the end of the couch over us and snuggled into him. his thumb rubbed up and down on my arm comfortingly, a constant reminder of his love for me.

I took a moment to look around the room. everything was perfect. ross, the film, the seasonal decorations, the pumpkin spice candle burning on the fireplace in our living room. our home. together.

{s/o to @abiiors for the cutest prompts I'm having sm fun reading n writing them 🤭}

#promptober75 #ross macdonald #scary movies #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald fanfiction #the 1975 #he's so bf coded #halloween #spooky season

[kate-inhaler-1975]

Apple Cider 🍎 🍂 // Matty Healy

A/N: A very VERY late Promptober No.2....I'm sorry 😭.

CW: Slight mature language and some hints of sexual activity, but you'd have to practically shut your eyes to see it xx

WC: 2,179 words

🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁

Amy would be lying if she said she enjoyed the concert. She truly didn't enjoy it as much as she would have if she had never met Matty, especially if he never gave her his phone number.

"AMS! COME ON, LIGHTEN UP! THIS IS YOUR FAVOURITE SONG!" Eve screamed as she grabbed Amy by the shoulders, shaking her vigorously to the beat of Amy's favourite song, Sex.

While Eve practically frolicked around the back of the pit, Amy stood still, bopping her head slightly while being completely transfixed by him.

His curls freely bounced as he shook his head back and forth, the plain white t-shirt hugging his small frame perfectly. He was hot, but also very pretty to her. Beautiful even.

She never heard back from him. She texted the number hours later. She even rang it in desperation to hear him call her love again.

But she got nothing in return. Not even an "Sorry, I'm busy, can't talk right now.". Nothing, she got nothing.

So, while Eve had the time of her life foaming at the mouth over Ross, Amy just felt deflated the entire night.

When the concert was over, and everyone left the Arena in massive groups, some people staying back because they didn't want to even begin comprehending that the night was over, Amy begged Eve if they could stay for just ten more minutes.

"Evie, please. I'm begging you. What if he gets someone to come get me, or he rings me back and then -"

"Ams, please. Let's just go. If he wants to text you back, he will, but let's not hang around here because we will get kicked out if we don't get a move on." Eve gripped onto Amy's right hand, sending her a sympathetic glance when she noticed how disappointed her best friend was.

Amy knew her best friend was right. If he wanted to, he would. He probably already forgot about her, and if that was the case, she doesn't really blame him.

Amy was just some baker with a large enough following in Ireland on social media and getting on with her normal day to day life. Where Matty is a rockstar having number one albums and touring the world, and probably needing or wanting a significant other that was on his level or close enough to it.

"Come on, let's go have a few drinks and get some food. I don't know about you, but I'm fucking hanging for a bag of chips with a shit load of salt and vinegar." Eve completely swerved from the subject of Matty as she pulled Amy by her elbow, linking arms with her as they walked back out into the cold and wet Dublin night.

"I just don't understand why he would even give me his number in the first place if he isn't going to bother dropping me even a short and simple text. What a dick!" Amy whined in dismay.

"Please, Amy Elizabeth Mitchell, I fucking beg of you. Stop talking about hi-."

"Wait! Shut the fuck up for a minute. I think someone's ringing me." Amy's eyes went wide as she searched for her phone that was buzzing in her small green handbag.

Her heart stopped beating for a split second when his name flashed up on the screen, her mind considering letting it ring out to return the favour of him, not answering her text or call.

"If you don't answer it, I will." Eve grabbed the phone out of Amy's hand. One slip of her thumb, and she would've answered the call.

"Hey! Stop! Give me that." With a forceful grab of the phone and accidentally jerking Eve forward with it, Amy retrieved her phone.

"Be normal!" Eve called out as Amy walked to a quieter area outside of the Arena.

"Hello?" She spoke in fake confusion. Pretending like she had no clue who was ringing her.

"Hiya, Amy. It's me, Matty. You doing alright, love?"

There it was. Love. Her new favourite word.

"Ahhh, hello! Me and Eve are just after walking out of the Arena. You guys were fucking amazing!" She looked down at her feet, trying to hide the giddy smile that was appearing across her face.

She felt like a teenager experiencing her first boyfriend.

"You didn't look like you had that much fun." He chuckled. He could see her from the stage because he was actively searching for her.

He looked as far into the seated part of the crowd as he could, but there was no sign of her. So then he turned to the standing area, quickly taking a good look at as many people as he could when the house lights came on at one point by his request.

And there she was, hair curled and perfectly framing her face with a black corset top and a large leather jacket, her tight black leather skirt with fishnets and heeled black leather boots.

She was a goddess.

She was mesmerising.

She was so mesmerising to him that he messed up the lyrics to It's Not Living (If It's Not With You).

"Wait, you could see me?" She gasped in embarrassment and shock, feeling so ashamed for standing there like a statue in a crowd full of feral fans (which she was once upon a time).

"As soon as I spotted you, I couldn't stop looking at you. That mate of yours seemed to have the time of her life, though."

"Don't tell her I said this, but I think she's slightly obsessed with that bassist of yours."

Oh, Eve would kill her if she found out she said such a thing to Matty.

"Well, listen, Ross is a man of his own. Everyone loves Ross."

"She definitely loves Ross. I can tell you that for love nor money."

The two of them giggled and chuckled like teens down the phone. Anyone who would listen to their conversation would think that they were totally in love and in the honeymoon stage.

"Amy, I hope it's not too late, but I'm staying in The Shelbourne Hotel on....is it Grafton Street?"

"No, St. Stephens Green. Close enough, though."

"Ah well. Anyways, would you like to have a drink with me at the hotel bar? If you want, you can bring Eve along with you, if that makes you feel more comfortable?"

For Amy, there was only one simple answer to that.

Yes.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Are you sure you'll be okay. You won't have a massive fangirl moment if he kisses you, and then you end up fainting or something like that?" Eve questioned one last time as she gave Amy a cuddle outside the beautiful 5-star hotel.

"I can promise you he won't kiss me. That'd be stupid of him."

"It would be stupid of him to NOT kiss you! Look at you! You are the sexiest and probably most fashionable woman to roam the streets of Dublin tonight! Now, go get your arse in their and make eighteen year old Amy proud."

Eve gave Amy a cheeky tap on her bum as she walked away from her. Leaving Amy nearly breaking out in a rash at the thought of anyone catching her best friend smacking her butt.

The doorman opened the left side of the door for her, giving her a polite smile and wishing her a goodnight.

Amy could only smile back at him and pray in her head that it would be a good night.

Amy had stayed in The Shelbourne Hotel before after getting asked to an event of some sort. She loved it, and it's interior, oh and of course it's history.

She adored history.

It was like something out of a romantic movie.

Meeting the handsome man in a fancy hotel bar, and if you add the rockstar part, it's even more unbelievable and movie like.

The bar, called No.27, was filled with casual elegance. The cocktails nearly sparkled in their glory while the neatly poured and precise pints seemed to be served with style.

Even though the pint of Guinness that the man sitting on one of the navy leather bar stools was drinking looked mouth wateringly appetising, the thing that shined and showed class the most was Matty.

He sat alone at the rectangular and heightened black marble table beside one of four large windows that faced the front of the hotel. His fingers messing with the condensation on the glass of his own pint of Guinness.

The kind woman at the front of house directed Amy to Matty when she pointed at him, the two of them walking towards him instantly catching his eye and snapping him out of his daydream that was about her.

"Hi." He smiled as he got off his chair, placing a hand on her shoulder as he leaned in to give her a kiss on both of her frost bitten cheeks.

"Hiya!" She spoke in a cheerful tone, returning the favour by giving him a gentle kiss on his left cheek.

"Here, let me get that for you." He quickly moved to pull the chair across from him out for Amy to sit on. His mind ran through all the steps he could possibly think of that made him seem like a true gentleman so he could impress her.

"Thank you very much. God, it's a cold one out there, isn't it?" Amy shivered as she took off her jacket. Rubbing her hands together aggressively, praying that the friction would bring heat back into them.

"It really is! Thankfully, it's nice and toasty in here. Oh, and I'm really sorry about earlier. I know it took me a while to reply, and I wasn't ignoring you or anything. I was just really busy getting ready for the show and-"

"Matty, please don't apologise. If anything, I should be apologising for coming off a bit needy. If, and only if you'd really like to make it up to me, you can buy me a pint of cider. Maybe even two." She hinted cheekily. Her eyes glistened with excitement and happiness.

"Cider? Why cider? I would take you more as a cosmopolitan kind of girl, but a cider drinker? No way." Matty teased, lightly kicking her foot under the table.

"Well, don't make assumptions about someone you know nothing about."

"Well, if I get to know you, then I won't have to make any assumptions. Will I, gorgeous?"

Matty lightly brushed her hand from across the table, sending her a quick teasing smile before heading up to the bar to order her a pint of her favourite cider.

The topics of conversation between the two of them were endless. Each of them learned about each others lives, their equal amount of love for music and literature, and Matty was fixated on her love for baking and how passionate she was about it.

He was completely drawn to the way she'd sit up straighter when she spoke about her job, or spoke about how her grandmother used to make apple tart every Sunday for dessert, or how it's basically therapy for her and she feels content and free of everyone and everything when she's in the kitchen.

"Actually, now that you've mentioned the whole baking on social media thing. I have a confession." Matty's cheeks ballooned slightly as he held in a laugh while thinking about George's excitement when the two of them finally found Amy's instagram and tiktok account.

"Oh god, go on. Spit it out." Amy cringed and tensed up in fear as to what he might say.

"George and Charli, his girlfriend, are fucking obsessed with your baking videos. He had a proper fangirl moment when he found out who you were."

"Wait! George Daniel and Charli XCX know who the fuck I am!?" Amy nearly spat out her cider all over Matty, her jaw dropping at what he'd just said.

"I'm being serious! The two of them were on the phone absolutely delighted with life. They're gonna love you when they meet you."

"When they meet me? Who said they'd ever meet me, Healy?" Amy held eye contact with him as she took another sip of her cider with a smirk on her face.

Her heart fluttering and an area further down south fluttering at his words.

"I guess I was just being a man and assuming that you'd like to keep in contact. Sorry about that." Matty stumbled on his words while trying to back track what he'd said. He was worried that maybe what he thought was a date wasn't anywhere near a date in her own head.

If only he could read her mind.

"You assumed correctly, Matty. I'd love to stay in contact with you more than anything. Might be a bit difficult, but I think that we should give it a go. See what happens, you know?" Her cheeks flushed as she felt a wave of confidence wash over her, leaning over the table to interlock their hands together.

Matty's calloused thumbs automatically tracing circles over her knuckles.

"How about I order us both another cider, and maybe we could take it up to my room. Just an idea, though." He spoke lowly as he himself leaned closer to her, their faces now only inches apart.

"You know what. I'll cheers to that idea, Healy."

#matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fluff #matty healy imagine #matty healy oneshot #the 1975 #promptober75 #halloween #trumanblack #matty healy x reader #promptober #the 1975 fanfic #ross mcdonald #adam hann #george daniel #the 1975 imagine #the 1975 oneshot

[toomuchracket]

falling for you (flatmate!matty x reader)

promptober day 10, and there was nobody else i could have written this for. a fluffy but slightly angsty pining lovesick moment, before the two of you are actually flatmates and you're just babies on nights out in manc. i hope you enjoy!

p.s. yeah, i know the pic is the wrong era for this, lol. but it's alllll about the vibes <3

matty's trying his damnedest not to stare at you right now.

he's failing miserably, though. the copious amount of alcohol in his body is rinsing all the sense out of his brain - well, what little you hadn't already stolen from him when you met him earlier outside your halls of residence, all made-up and glowing - and he really cannot tear his eyes away from you, saying bye to your friends at the door of the nightclub.

matty blinks, and self-awareness hits him like a freight train. nah. he's being weird. he needs to get a grip.

but then you turn towards him, waiting on behalf of both of you in the cloakroom queue, and you smile, and all thoughts about stopping looking at you fly out of matty's head. how can he be expected to focus on anything but that face of yours? the vodka's made your beautiful eyes softer, and a combination of marlboros and mac lipstick have made your lips pouty and kissable. well, more so than usual, matty thinks.

he's so distracted by your beauty that he almost doesn't hear the cloakroom attendant shout him up to the window. stumbling slightly - he'd say over his own feet, you'd say due to drunkenness (and you'd be right) - matty exchanges his two tickets for the jackets you and him had been all but forced to wear to prevent the freezing october air getting to you, and wanders over to you. wordlessly, in a well-rehearsed routine, he slings his own jacket over his shoulder as he helps you into yours.

you murmur a thank you. "you hungry?"

for you, yes. for a kebab, no, matty wishes he could say. but he can't, so he just shakes his head.

"neither am i," you say, helping him zip up his leather jacket. your dexterity has been diminished by your drinking, and one of the fringes on the sleeve of your own coat gets stuck between the metal teeth of his. clearly, your brain has also been affected by the alcohol; you frown at the zip, unable to see why it won't move. "huh?"

matty smiles, moving to help you. "got caught on your coat. sorry, darlin'."

"oh, s'fine. thanks," you reply, as you're unstuck once again. with a smile, you hold a hand out to matty. "shall we?"

like he'd ever say no to you. "we shall."

and the walk back to your uni begins.

if it had been raining, matty would have done the gentlemanly thing and sprung for a taxi. but it isn't, for once; actually, he thinks, it's kind of a perfect night. the sky is inky-black, devoid of any clouds, and the two of you are just drunk enough that the streetlights look just as pretty as the stars you can't see from so far into the city like this. he's more thankful for the cold air now than he was before the two of you went out - after the close heat of the nightclub, and the internal glow of the however many shots you did, the coolness is welcome. that, and it forces you to secure matty's hand in your own for warmth, which is maybe the most perfect aspect of the night, in his opinion.

naturally, then, a pang of heartbreak hits him when you break the hold to rifle through your handbag. when you procure a half-empty pack of cigs, though, it dissipates.

"want one?" you ask, holding the open end of the packet towards matty.

"no thanks, sweetheart," he says. he isn't lying: the thought of anything clouding his vision of you, even cigarette smoke, is unbearable. but then a spark of an idea crackles somewhere in his brain - whether it's in spite of or because of his tipsy state, matty isn't sure, but either way it tells him he shouldn't be so quick to refuse. so, tentatively, he continues speaking. "i'll gladly share one with you, though."

you take your time answering, slowly pulling a cig from the pack and shoving the rest back in your bag, then digging around for your lighter. matty chews his cheeks during this performance, terror that he's overstepped a friendship boundary of some sort beginning to creep up his spine. but then you shrug, and say "alright", and he's fine.

well, he's not fine, actually - the next words that leave your mouth are "need your help to light it, though, matty". 

fuck. his hands so close to your jaw, close enough that he could take hold of it and kiss you before his brain could convince him that it was too much of a risk to your friendship? that's dangerous.

god, he's so drunk. and so definitely in love with you.

what matty is first and foremost, though, is a good friend. shoving down any and all romantic and/or sexual thoughts about you and your lips as best he can (which is, admittedly, not very well), he turns to face you and takes the lighter from your hand. "c'mere then."

when you oblige, silently, and look up at him with your lips parted and those sparkly doe eyes of yours, matty bites the inside of his lip so hard he feels it bleed. christ. this was perhaps a bad idea.

but the cig is right there, waiting to be lit, so he takes a deep breath, cupping the lighter as he flicks the flame into existence and brings it to your mouth. the orange glow illuminates you quite beautifully, and suddenly matty's head is filled with thoughts of you across from him, like you are now, but sat at a candlelit, white-clothed table with a glass of wine and a fancy dinner before you. and, if he's being honest, also with thoughts of you underneath him, face blissful and softly lit by the candles dotted around the room as he fucks you slowly and tenderly.

for fuck's sake. you're his best friend. he can't be thinking of you like that. why can't he stop thinking about you like that tonight? maybe he's going insane. he has no idea. but whatever is compelling him seems to lessen as you step back and exhale the smoke. "thank you, babe."

babe? that's new. but not unwelcome, not at all. matty feels his heart flutter at the pet name.

"s'alright," he smiles. now it's his turn to hold out a hand. "shall we keep going?"

"mhmm," you quickly take another puff of the cig, before sliding it between matty's lips with a giggle and taking his hand; you have to tug him forward a few paces before he regains control of his brain, but he quickly manages it, and the walk home continues.

for the most part, it's uneventful, aside from the alien feeling of your hand constantly in matty's. that is, until he tries to be clever and inhale the cig mid-conversation, and ends up exhaling directly in your face when you turn to listen to him without him fully noticing.

you cough a little bit when the smoke hits you, and matty panics (and internally facepalms. what a fucking idiot he is) as he throws the cig on the ground and stamps it out. "shit! i'm so sorry, sweetheart, i didn't mean that! you alright?"

"s'ok, i'm ok, don't worry," you assure him, waving away both his fretting and the lingering smoke. when it clears from in front of your face, matty's heartbeat increases as he takes in your amused smile and your even-more-sparkly-than-earlier eyes. you're beautiful. you're fucking glowing. and you're tucking yourself under his arm and cosying into his side as you walk. jesus christ. "this is a lot better for us, don't you think?"

matty's cheeks lift into a smile. "definitely."

it really is better, matty thinks, walking towards the front door of your halls with you snuggled into his chest. much like every other aspect of matty's life, you fit seamlessly into his side - you just feel so right there, so natural, as if the two of you were biologically designed to be together. maybe someday, he hopes, you will be; not two best friends traipsing into uni accommodation for a post-night out sleepover, but a pair of lovers heading home after a date.

he doubts that'll actually happen, given that he'd have to go through the impossible task of telling you how he feels first, but still. it's a nice distant daydream, one he's still giddily thinking about when you unlock the front door and pull him through several more until you reach your bedroom.

you groan when you flick the light on and see the state of your bed, makeup palettes and hair products and failed outfit options strewn across it. matty immediately jumps into problem-solving mode; anything to stop you being unhappy, after all. "where do you want all this stuff, darlin'?"

"the fucking floor," you grumble.

"so… where i'm meant to sleep?"

your head snaps up, and you catch matty's eye in the mirror as you take your earrings out. "well," you turn to face him, your expression… nervous? "you could just, y'know, share the bed with me."

oh. matty can feel his heart pounding in his ears, diminishing the volume of your continuing (and frantic) monologue: "i mean, i know it'll be tight cos it's a single, and you've always insisted on sleeping on the floor even when i've offered to let you have the bed, but it's really cold tonight and i wouldn't mind the extra heat, and at least if we're sharing i know you won't be freezing and you'll be comfy, yeah?"

"ok," matty says, despite barely registering anything you said in his fugue state. he's drunk, and lovesick, but he's not an idiot. "yeah. we'll share."

your face breaks into a relieved smile. "ok. good. um, before that, would you…?"

"oh, of course," matty darts over to you as quickly as he can, while you turn to face the mirror again and lift your hair up. slowly, with fingers fumbling just as much from nerves as from alcohol consumption, he undoes the zip on the back of your dress. the perfume still lingering on the back of your neck clouds his brain with every breath he takes, and the organ threatens to completely shut down when matty pulls the zip down low enough to reveal a lack of bra clasps underneath your outfit. once he's finished undoing you, he steps back while he still has the ability to do so, turning away from you. "there you go."

"thank you," comes the reply from behind him, followed by the sounds of fabric rustling and drawers opening. matty busies himself with carefully clearing your bed, only turning back round when you tap his arm; he smiles when he sees you in a big t-shirt, hair shoved up messily and makeup half-removed, holding out a pair of sweatpants he recognises as his. "you left these here last time. i thought you might want them to sleep in. and i did wash them, before you ask."

you roll your eyes as matty presses the trousers to his nose anyway as a joke - when he registers that his clothes now smell like you and your washing powder, however, it stops being funny in favour of being lovelorn-inducing. but his smile quickly returns when he properly notices the design on the t-shirt you're wearing. "i cannot believe you're wearing a drive like i do shirt to bed. thought you were more proud of me, to be honest, darlin'."

"of course i am, but it's comfy," you protest, brow furrowing in the most adorable way as you frown. it softens wistfully as you continue. "and it reminds me of home."

weird, matty thinks. you're not from- oh. christ.

he's home, to you. 

what a fucking thought that is. matty's not quite sure how he's managing to stay sane, but he smiles, pulling you into a tight hug and stroking your back. "that's very lovely of you, sweetheart."

"s'just the truth," you reach up on tiptoe to pat matty on the head, before pulling away. he misses you immediately. "you wanna get ready for bed?"

does he ever. 

matty nods, kicking his shoes off and quickly undressing while you climb into bed. despite the fact you've seen him in shorts and nothing else before, he wonders if he should feel self-conscious as he strips to his underwear in front of you; something's definitely different with the two of you tonight, matty's sure of it, and he can't quite tell if that's a good or bad thing. probably good, although that might be wishful thinking on his part, just like the way he's convinced your eyes linger on his torso with interest in the mirror when he takes his shirt off.

anyway. clad in his sweatpants and no more, matty climbs into your single bed. he tries to get as comfy as he can, facing away from and without touching you - whether that's to ensure your space and comfort or to stop himself from agonising over how much he likes you, matty has no idea. he isn't comfortable in the slightest, but he'll endure it.

you, on the other hand, have other ideas. with a sigh of "daft boy", you move forward so your body is against matty's back, slinging an arm and leg over his front and spooning him. "is this alright? i figured it was the best way to keep us warm."

"it's perfect, sweetheart," matty replies, and he isn't lying. despite how much it hurts being so close to you and repressing how he really feels about you, matty's surprisingly chill about the way you're clinging to him. cautiously, but feeling compelled to do so, he brings his hand up to stroke your thigh; when you hum contentedly, matty rests it there. "goodnight."

"mmm, night," you yawn out, the blanket of sleep falling on you fast. "love you."

matty smiles, half sadly, half dreamily. "love you too, darlin'."

the next day, he writes a new song.

#mads muses #mads does writing #promptober75 #flatmate!matty #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fluff #matty healy angst #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

[insidemymind19]

Meet cute

Day 1 of promptober75 by my amazing friend @abiiors

As always any feedback is welcome it’s only short but enjoy babas!! 🫶

As she looks around the bar she shivers as the breeze from the open door catches her skin once more creating goosebumps on her arms, Autumn truly has hit she thinks.

“Glass of red when you have a moment love” she hears an entrancing voice speak from the other side of the bar as she looks up to the sight of an unruly yet beautiful head of curls, dark with traces of grey, a chest tattoo peaking out from his sleek white button up, a truly beautiful man, a rare sight for the bar she works in.

“I’ve not seen you round here before” she lets out as she slips the glass of red liquid across the bar to him, “no I’m just here for work” he lets out with a chuckle as he slips a large note of cash into her hand “keep the change darling” his accent making her heart flutter. “Thank you so much I really appreciate that..” she inquires his name “Matty” he lets out as he quizzes her own. “Y/n, lovely to meet you”,

“wow beautiful name for a beautiful girl” he lets out casually, their eyes meeting one another. “Well Y/n it’s lovely to meet you, how long is left of your shift” He inquires as she glances at the wooden clock situated above the roaring fireplace.

“only 45 minutes” she informs him, “well in that case I’d love to buy you a drink after your shift, if you’d be up for it” he asks nervously.

“I’d love that matty” she lets out, eyes catching once more.

#ahhh I’m terrified to post this #thoughts inside my mind #chats #the 1975 #matty healy #the 1975 x reader #matty healy x reader #promptober75

[cinnahmongirl]

apple cider.

0.6k words

10 large apples, quartered

a large bag of apples sit on the kitchen counter. crimson red, the colour of fall, freshly picked from the farmers' market. ross cuts the apples steadily in the kitchen. neat. clean. it's the only task you gave him so he goes above and beyond. each piece of apple is similar in size to the next.

1 orange, halved

now the scent of fresh citrus fills the kitchen. the last remnants of summer. the smell of oranges linger on your fingers and you dream of sweet kisses with ross. rolling around in crisp bed sheets and freshly squeezed orange juice in the middle of a hot summer day. you wipe the bead of sweat that trickles down his forehead in the beaming sunlight. he smiles under your touch and holds your hands to his lips. the scent of citrus fills his nose.

spices : 4 cinnamon sticks, 1 tsp. whole cloves, 1 tsp. whole allspice, 1 whole nutmeg

the beginning of fall smells of cinnamon and auburn leaves falling to the ground. its the smell of rain and the feeling of stepping on falling leaves. the world is silent in the fall. the season of gentle decay, you suppose. but then, fall also means the warmth of spices. the ones that warm your stomach, a new kind of content that nothing else can beat. gentle, warming, the spices flood your home. you think it can't get better than this. and your sous chef comes and envelopes you in a hug. you think this could be a contender for the feeling spices make you feel. no matter the season, ross smells just right. he smells like everything and nothing all at once. your mind empties itself of all words, leaving one behind. and so you have no choice but to describe his scent as home. it goes beyond that, you tell yourself but you've yet to find the right words to encapsulate how he makes you feel.

1/2 cup packed brown sugar

sugar, spice and everything nice. fall is for freshly baked cookies. the ones ross could devour in one sitting. he accuses you of adding some form of drug to keep him addicted and you laugh at the incredulity of his words. the gentle giant sits across from you with crumbs on his face and chocolate smeared across his lip.it’s a sight to behold, really. the “manly man” looking like a child, a boy, your boy.

serve apple cider warm

the smell of spiced apples fill your nose and both of you share a look that says the apple cider is ready. you rush to taste your new elixir. the spoonful of golden liquid meets your lips and marks the beginning of fall. you close your eyes for a moment and let the liquid slide down your throat. gold. it tastes like gold. and like a cliché from your favourite romantic comedy, a drop of apple cider falls from the corner of your mouth. ross, always staring at you with adoring eyes, is quick. his thumb meets the corner of your mouth. he wipes the cider away and his thumb lingers. fall is quiet. the kitchen stills. and he takes the chance to kiss you, stealing a cheeky taste of your shared creation. you look up at him and you watch his eyes crinkle at the corners. a slight tinge of red blooms on his cheeks. he leans in to kiss you again, fingers gently grazing your jaw. you taste of cinnamon and sugar and everything good in his life. your lips taste of the most intoxicating apple cider. fall can finally begin.

#promptober75 #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald the 1975 #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald #🖋️

[the1975attheirverybest]

The Greatest British Bake-off

A/N: Prompter day 12

Prompt: autumn treats.

Warnings: none

----

"are you...serious?" she rolled her eyes jokingly. "The theme was 'autumn, boys. You've all got brownie m=ingredients."

"Matty picked the challenge." George tattled.

Adam mumbled something about having warned them about this.

Matty cleared his throat as a pre-announcement before speaking authoritatively, "Brownies can be autumnal."

Ross whispered into Matty's ear, "I think you have a special kind of brownies in mind," and they both giggled.

"Baby, this is brownie mix. with this level of laziness, I don't think we can call this a bake-off." she eyed the ingredients he'd laid out on the counter with snobby judgement.

"I've got a few surprises up my sleeve. Just...just time us, okay? lets settle this once and for all."

the title of "Best Band Baker" was at stake. Matty's competitive side has always been both attractive and entertaining, so she'd invited Charli and Carly to collectively enjoy this madness.

"alright boys. find your stations and I'll get a timer going...."

Charli took that as her cue to pour the wine.

"Okay, everyone settled? ready...set...AND GO!" She grinned at the sound of butter packets opening, whisks circling, and Matty struggling to open his Brownie mix and crack and egg.

"You should all give up now." George stated, dipping a finger in to taste-test his concoction, "my brownies will destroy yours without a doubt."

"Less trash talking more baking, George." Matty mumbled, his brows furrowed, his tongue sticking out. "christ! I think I cut myself."

Charli chuckled reminding everyone that, as a general rule, blood in the batter disqualifies you unconditionally.

"Me, me, me! I go first! I've finished first!" Ross announced, ecstatic.

"alright, we've only got one oven, so we'll have to put all of your...uhm...masterpieces in together. it'll be a game of Tetris so let me do it."

"well, let the record show, I was the first to finish. That goes towards my final score, yes?"

She looked at her co-judges, nodding when Charli and Carly both confirmed. "Yes, Ross. It does."

---

"I think we should grade them in the order that they were finished." Charli suggested. "Which means...Ross MacDonald. You're going first."

Ross smiled luminously, cutting up three pieces for each of the ladies to try.

They watched the boys serious and apprehensive faces and decided to milk it, taking their time, whispering their comments to each other and pretending to look serious in contemplation.

"alright, so we all agree?"

"mhm...."

"well, Ross." She took a deep breath. "Upon first glance it might seem like a perfectly respectable Brownie....but, my friend, the edges are a bit too dry and crispy. You'd have to cut off a significant portion of this thing to enjoy a brownie-textured bite. so...7/10."

"George Daniel, you're next, bro."

"George....oh man. you see how it's still runny in the middle? it MIGHT have turned into a brownie at some point, if it ever finished baking. sorry, babe. 5/10."

In the background, Ross and George bickered over who would have the worst luck.

"Adam gets extra points for the presentation. Tell us, are those actual chocolate shavings on top? wow, alright...we might have a winner here. 8.5/10."

"last but not least, Matthew...." She squinted her eyes, looking up at her boyfriend. "I...this color isn't a good sign, babe."

Matty rolled his eyes, "would you just- fuckin try it?"

"you sneaky little...." Carly giggled. "he's added pumpkin to it!"

"AND cinnamon."

Matty beamed "Can't have pumpkin without cinnamon. Obviously."

"hmmm....that's smart. and on theme." Charli mused.

"But Adam's presentation is infinitely more appealing...."

"Right, cuz with the pumpkin added, the color of Matty's brownies...well, it's not the most appetizing."

"He does get points for creativity though."

The three ladies nodded amongst themselves.

"do we have a tie on our hands?"

Matty, watching their debate, began to get visibly worked up. "No! That's not fair! ties are not an option! Here, listen..." He drove the knife through the still steaming dessert, "take another bite! really think about it. let it melt, luxuriously in your mouth. Smell it! It's autumn in your kitchen!"

She smiled, teasingly, at the love of her life. "wow, you really don't like losing do you?"

"Please! we should bring someone else in! Polly will break the tie. Or...yo, Ross. Call John!"

"Hmmmm" Charli winked at them to go along. "Nah, I think if we're being fair, it's a tie."

Matty, finally unable to remain still, walked out from behind the kitchen counter. "The fuck is that fair? fuck no! I demand a re-match! Only ONE band member can be the winner. this is ridiculous! Adam and I can go again! I've gotta run to the shops, though, we'll start again when I get back...."

#promptober75 #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fluff #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader

[abiiors]

PROMPTOBER '23

hello, hello!! since october is right around the corner, i thought it would be fun to release a list of autumn/spooky themed prompts for people to use. i'm going to try my best to do them all but we will see how it goes!

i'm releasing this well in advance so people have time to decide which ones they want to do and plan + write them etc. anyway, i hope you guys participate and i would absolutely love to see your fics so pls tag #promptober75 if you use these <33

typed list of prompts under the cut

1] meet cute 2] apple cider 3] scary movies 4] long drive 5] elope with me 6] by the fireplace 7] autumn mornings 8] stress relief 9] sick days 10] falling for you 11] sweet touches 12] baking autumn treats 13] leaves fallen sparse 14] i wanna marry you 15] sneaking out 16] free space 17] stealing sweaters 18] in front of a mirror 19] hot chocolate 20] stay, stay, stay... 21] the perfect pumpkin 22] bonfires 23] pranks 24] candlelight 25] lights out 26] all too well 27] ghosts 28] black cat 29] begin again 30] costumes 31] halloween

#reblogs will be really really appreciated <3 #promptober #promptober75 #promptober 2023 #promptober 23 #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #george daniel #adam hann #october #writing prompts #autumn prompts

[peripheryofreality]

Ayo, here we go!

My day 1 of day 4 of Promptober 2023!

Today's prompt is "long drive".

Long Drives

Radio

soft singing, signs pass

Passing lights, a small show.

Yawn. Face pressed against glass.

The book in hand slips... so slow

I decided to try out a poem style called Bob and Wheel, it's a 5 line poem, ababa rhyming scheme with 2-3 syllables in line 1, then 6 syllables for the rest.

When I thought about "long drives" all I could think of is falling asleep in the back of my parents car after visiting family, and the surrealism of it all.

Hope you enjoyed!

#poetry #creative writing #promptober 2023 #promptober75