𝙰 𝚃𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜
this is the prequel to this matt smith c.ai bot on my account. will probs turn this into a series idk.
me on c.ai
cw: fem!reader!singer, mattx reader, age gap. reader will be in her 20s and matt is 35 so if it bothers you this is your warning :)
Your pumps echoed through the marble floors of the lux apartment you were staying in. Your hair down your back in light blowout curls, the color of it perfectly complimenting your backless dress. You grabbed your earrings putting them on as your mom talked on facetime.
''I know ma, but I'm really gonna be late.'' you said putting an incredulous amount of your favorite perfume before popping a gum and placing everything in your clutch.
''Alright baby, just show me how you look and I'll hang up.''
You placed the phone down taking steps back to show your mom how you looked. A few compliments and a very repetitive request for you to be careful later, you finally managed to leave the apartment to go outside to the car waiting for you.
The event was months in the planning with you as the main performer. In all truth, it was something you felt proud of. It'd be more of a benefit, celebrities and socialites gathering and rich men donating to charity to feel like they deserved the money they had in their possession, even if it felt uncountable. Yet you'd be the one performing, the face of the charity, making sure you'd donated more than your voice felt good.
In the mean time, cameras flashed and clicked at the small carpet the led to the entrance of the building, big black cars stopping, celebrities walking out for the paps and the fans, posing, signing and entering. One of them being no other than Matthew Smith. He posed with his hand in his pocket before a little bit of talking and then entering the building.
"I swear flashes in New York are radioactive...''
The man said holding his eyes walking in by his manager, Michael handing him a bottle of water.
''Now, Claire is inside, you'll find her somewhere, and no comments with anyone about the-"
''Yeah, I know, don't worry. How long do we have to stay?''
''Three hours mandatory. and then more if you want to stay so.''
Matt laughed at the last part of Michael's sentence both of them knowing that wouldn't be happening. Mandatory only. Though both men averted their attention at the people outside getting louder at someone's arrival and when they looked back they realized why.
''Marketing? Yes, haven't heard anything about her being difficult in truth though.''
Michael informed his client on the girl walking the carpet before they turned back around to walk in the main hall.
You walked out of the car, momentarily keeping your head turned in the car's direction, avoiding the screaming of the paparazzi, who seemed to turn into animals ready to pounce whenever a young woman graced the small carpet. A few deep breaths and a polite smile, waves and signatures, some joking with fans and taking pictures with them before you found refuge behind the doors, hoping for a moment to gather yourself from all the commotion.
You walk in by your assistant blinking repeatedly, your eyes adjusting to the different lightings compared to outside.
''You'll have to talk for a video article by Vogue, Anna also sent you flowers in the room back there, it's like a makeshift backstage from what I was told. And the camera will be primarily on the left side of the stage, so have that in mind.''
''Why the fuck would the camera not be from the front if they'll be tables from left and right and none from the front?''
You and you assistant look at each both of you confused because Carla shrugs.
''You want me to go bitch?''
''No, it's fine, what is it with cameramen and making their lives miserable.''
''It's part of the tortured artist.''
Both of you chuckled walked to the back from the secluded part of the closed off venue. What you had believed to be a lighthearted night, started turning into full on work gigging, the number on your check that you just had to insist on being donated suddenly making sense. Video segments, singing and finally, after two hours of running around, champagne.
You walked around with your glass in your hand as Carla left to use a much needed break in the back for a smoke. You smiled politely at whoever did so, when finally, a face not only familiar, but one you'd talked to in the past.
''Oh my god, thank god you're here, I feel like I've been floating on my own.'' You awkwardly and with a very stressed and dry sense of humor hugged Claire Foy.
''Oh you were incredible up there, the little glance I got you looked good too.'' She laughs lightheartedly.
''They put you on the left tables didn't they?''
''Yes they did, why didn't they film from center front, the whole space was empty...?''
''I know! That's literally what I said!''
Matt and Michael held their own drinks in their hands, looking each other knowing glances from their commentary on you from earlier before Michael cleared his throat and extended his hand using your last name. You shook his hand with a smile.
''Michael Duff, agent, and this-''
''Matt.''
Matt cut Michael off as he looked you with his usual look of smugness as he shook your hand.
''Oh Prince Phillip, right. You did a wonderful job.''
There were a few seconds of uncomfortable silence before Carla showed back up slightly flushed, evidently having smoked a little bit of something other than simple cigarettes outside, though of course that would not be a topic of conversation.
The night continued into a sort of uncomfortable silence until you and Carla started roaming the room on your own again. It was wonderful having someone around you at such places always, she was trained to basically be your emotional support therapist best friend that helped you through such situations. And that being said, Carla was a very attentive person, meaning she knew what you were thinking almost always.
''Who?''
She asks sipping her glass of water unbothered as you sat by a bar set up.
''Who did it for you?''
She said looking at you expectantly, of course she knew. She somehow- miraculously even- always knew when you liked someone.
''Prince Phillip...''
You whispered sipping your drink, trying to look as if you weren't talking about the subject.
''He's 15 years older. Daddy will go bald.''
She chuckled to herself.
''I'm just saying... but if you like him...''
Carla left her words to linger in the air clearly holding info from you. You sat up a little straighter, as if your ears were perking up to locate the noise, which was what she hid behind her words.
''What? What do you know?"
''Michael asked for your number.''
You slouched almost immediately huffing in your glass before the liquid touched your lips.
"Michael's gay dummy.''
Carla looked at you amused, allowing you a moment of silence for you to piece the puzzle in your head. You furrowed your brows looking at her, before they raised, sound of the cogs working in your head basically audible. She held her glass towards you, knowing smiles on both your faces before you clang the rims of your glasses together and sipped.
''So, you got it?''
Michael handed his client a small paper in his hand under the table.
''Hopefully. What will you do?''
Matt pulled a cigarette out of his blazer tapping it on the box before they walked outside for a smoke and leave.
''I don't know..'' he lit the cigarette ''Text her?''
''That'll do it. Oh let me text the international popstar to come over my place for a good shag and the leave.''
''I won't do that.''
Matt said, his tone almost defensive earning a knowing 'cut the bullshit' look from Michael.
''I'll ask her for some coffee, she'll be in London working you heard her. She'll need someone to show her around.''
''Only a proper Englishman can show around Blighty properly.''
''Your ego is larger than you, you know that.''
''That's why I get the ladies Michael. I believe in me and they do too.''
